Log: No Games
Who: Hattie, P'draig, Elaruth, Jekzith
When: day 22, month 5, turn 21 of Interval 10.
Where: Secluded Beach, Ista Weyr
What: P'draig's chilling out a little ways away from the Weyr. Hattie had similar thoughts. Where they wind up is probably a surprise to both. (+tag scene). Continued in Mutual Understanding.
Secluded Beach, Ista Weyr(#733RJ)
Surrounded by dense jungle is an empty beach that provides just enough space for two or three dragons to land. Velvety black sands are swept relentlessly by waves, stark white foam sliding seaward after the receding waters. Ista's main beach lies somewhere to the north, but it's impossible to see from such a secluded cranny on the coastline. The jutting fingers of the Weyr are still visible beyond the dense jungle canopy, but there is the illusion that here and now there is no one else on all of Pern.
The dry spring season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. At the height of mid-day, clouds interrupt the sky and a good, stiff breeze cools the Weyr.
It's the end of the day, the sun's sliding downward, bathing the beach with the ruddy light of Rukbat's setting. Ista's weather is lovely in late spring: warm, but not humid like it will be in just a few weeks likely. It's a lonely little stretch of beach a little ways away from the Weyr, cupped by verdant jungle and bracing arms of rock, though an intrepid soul could walk the whole way along black sand. Jekzith is out far over the water, dipping down to skim the waves' surface with wings or talons then wheeling up high again, tireless. P'draig meanwhile is indulging in rare solitude and relaxation, woodworking set aside on the blanket where the brownrider lounges, hands pillowing his head, eyes closed. It could seem that he sleeps, though one leg drawn upward still bears enough tension to perhaps put the lie to that assumption. Shirtless, with just a pair of old shorts for swimwear, the Weyr's most recent former Weyrlingmaster at this moment in time presents an image of idleness beyond compare.
Elaruth rarely makes a scene about landing and today is no different, save for her winding herself right back into a pale oval the moment all four paws have touched sand and the startled blink when she finds find the beach not as empty as she was perhaps expecting. She might be quiet about it and goes very still, making it more difficult for her rider to clamber down from somewhere within that coil, but Hattie is not quiet in her scrambling or particularly neat about it, boots hitting the ground with a good solid thud. She leans back against her queen, arms folded, and eyes the brownrider without saying a word.
The scrambling earns a cracking open of gray-blue eyes, Paddy's head turning within the pillow of his hands. Jekzith's seen the coil of gold landing on dark sand and bubbles of thought float cheerily towards the queen: << Hello! Nice day isn't it? >> Polite and energetic, thoughts edged with electric blue. "Hattie," P'draig pronounces after a moment and he pushes up into a sitting position first, dusts sand off his arms and rises, padding over towards the goldrider. "Ista's duties and all that. Looking to get away from things for a little while?" the brownrider queries with a warm smile, welcoming.
Hattie still looks as if she can't quite decide what to do about this turn of events and stays leaning there against Elaruth for a moment, until the gold has to uncurl a little to peer out across the ocean and find Jekzith. << Good evening. >> Quiet, ripples in shallow water still fading out after being startled. << It is a nice day. Not too warm. >> Her rider finally unfreezes and finds her voice. "P'draig. Fort's duties to Ista." Despite that smile, she doesn't manage to summon one in return and says, almost defensively, "A little while," as though she believes she's being accused of slacking. "Congratulations on the graduation of your most recent class. I must stop by to see Nenita some time."
Bubbles pop in sequence, releasing images of light flickering on water, breeze winding through trees and the happy call of children. Maybe that's from earlier. << It's nice to see you again! Will you be coming out to fly, or staying to enjoy the warm sand? >> Taking in Hattie's manner, Paddy comes to a stop a few steps away, hands sliding into pockets and his grin goes lopsided. "Can't blame you. Sounds like things are rough at Fort these days," he says quietly and looks out across the water, the wind ruffling through dark hair. "Thanks," he adds about the weyrlings. "Think she'd like the visit. She's been really busy with things going the way they have here."
<< To swim, >> Elaruth responds, relaxing little by little and allowing faint sunlight to drift through her words. << And fly, perhaps. Or float. >> Hattie shrugs and turns to start pulling straps from her lifemate, yanking down a pack that hits the sand and rolls. Better hope there's nothing breakable in there. "It's nothing we can't handle," she says over her shoulder, but is that a pause for breath or does her voice hitch? "It must be difficult, to have that knot so soon. I remember that she's not exactly fond of paperwork." Straps coiled up, she lobs them after the pack and gives Elaruth a gentle nudge to see her off, the queen taking steps towards the shore. "She'd like to swim. We can be gone pretty quick if you want the place to yourselves, though."
<< Oh both are fun! >> Jekzith replies with honest enthusiasm. << Would you like to come with me? I can dive pretty deeply. It's /interesting/ down there. >> Motley brown hide catches the ruddier hints of the setting sun as he turns, the long, loose-limbed brown tucking to dive towards the water. "I worry some," P'draig confesses. "Fort... was home for a long time," he says slowly and r eaches to try to help with unstrapping. "Want a hand?" Breath out a nod. "Yeah. It's a heavy load to get a big knot young and almost right out of Weyrlinghood. At least Griere's around for her to lean on some." His hands return to his pockets as the queen is freed and Hattie nudges. "Company's welcome," Paddy notes lightly, gestures towards his blanket. "So long as you don't mind some wood shavings."
"Don't," Hattie responds, just a bit sharply. "Worry. If anyone else keeps on with it, the place'll implode. Or explode. I don't know..." Her voice trails off and she stares out at the ocean, one hand caught midway in a run through her hair. "We're handling it," she quietly insists, animated again and pacing towards her pack. "What're you making?" she asks, with a glance up and towards the blanket. Elaruth keeps on taking slow steps to the shore, pace quickening only when the ocean changes the consistency of the sand. She's shoulder-deep in water by the time she replies, head tipped up to watch the brown's dive. << Yes, >> she decides. << What is down there? >> A few more metres into the sea and she spreads her wings to float for the time being.
P'draig watches those shifts in the goldrider, brow furrowing just a little. "Can't help but think about people I know and care about," the brownrider says with a little roll of his shoulders and backs up a pace or two, turns back to the blanket to sweep the little curls of wood out of the way. "A big mixing spoon, actually. It's for Nenita as a matter of fact. Something I'm hoping will both make her laugh and also be a reminder that she doesn't have to be the Weyrwoman all the time." Jekzith splashes down fairly neatly really, making waves out where it's deep and he paddles in place, noses water towards the shore, though it' a largely futile gesture. << Fish. Plants. Rocks. Scuttly things. Bigger fish to hunt. They taste good but you have to mind their teeth. >> Enthusiasm again.
No retort from Hattie, only the set of her jaw to give anything away. Rummaging around, she finds a towel big enough to wrap somebody twice her height in and then pads to set it down beside the blanket, tying her shirt up to just below her chest somewhen before she sits down. "Is it just to make her laugh or could she mix a big cake with it?" she questions. "'Cause, you know, I'm sure cake makes paperwork more bearable." Elaruth paddles out to deeper water, then folds her wings in a movement quite quick for her, sunlight reflecting off water clearer than the ocean - or is the sunlight just that bright? - sent Jekzith's way. << Scuttly things. >> And then she's gone. Yes, that would be 'Scuttly things. Bye' as the little queen dives beneath the surface to find them, tail left poking out of the water and waving encouragement for a few seconds.
"Both, yes," P'draig says with a smile over his shoulder at the Fortian goldrider and sits back down himself. "And ... I didn't mean to offend. I know Fort's leaders are capable. It can sometimes be -- well weird. Being split between more than one place you call home, or used to," the brownrider explains, picking up the long piece of wood and holding it out towards her. "She still likes to cook sometimes, I think. So you know. Figured when the chips get down, she can either use this to whack people over the head with, or go take her frustrations out on some batter." Jekzith needs no further encouragement on that score, zinging orange and lemon highlights threading through electric blue with excitement as he upends himself to dive down after Elaruth and meet her down where it's deeper, darker, and there's lots of odd varieties of spiderclaws to watch.
"It's alright. You didn't offend. I promise you that you'd really know by now if you had," Hattie says dryly, reaching back to study the spoon in progress. "I have to say, of the two options, I'd go for the whacking people over the head one, personally. Plus, with a spoon, you could hardly be accused of premeditated intent to harm." She unlaces her boots and sets them down on sand; starts to roll the cuffs of her trousers up. "Safriath's a bit young to go up any time soon, isn't she? Well, then I guess I thought that of," a nod toward where Elaruth /used/ to be, "and she didn't plan on waiting." Once she's dived down deep, it takes Elaruth a little while to adjust to new surroundings; hesitation there, then more paddling. She picks one spiderclaw in particular to watch and aligns herself above it, meaning to follow by all appearances. Except, well, there's quite a size difference there and it involves not a massive amount of movement from her, which gives her time to seek out Jekzith and tap the tip of her tail gently to his flank.
"Fair enough," P'draig replies quietly, taking the spoon back and setting it down. Both of his knees draw up partly towards his chest, arms wrapped around and one hand clasping the wrist of the other lightly. His chuckle is merry enough when it comes. "I'll make sure to tell her that you recommend the whacking ... and yes, it'll be a while, unless she's out of synch," the brownrider notes about Safriath. No hesitation from Jekzith as he eels more than paddles through the water, making good use of the long, lean shape of his frame. There's a playful tap of tail in return as he glides alongside, though their shadows incite panic in the critters and really send them scuttling along the bottom.
Hattie flops back to the sand and just breathes in and out for a while, her eyes closed. "Me, I think I'd hit people with books, but then there might be damage done to pages and that'd be a waste of a good book," she murmurs. "Though I imagine they'd knock people out quite nicely." She probably shouldn't be smiling when she says that. "So, what do you do when you're not herding weyrlings?" Elaruth keeps track of that one spiderclaw, paddling once every now and then to keep up with it. On its journey, it's joined by another and the two scuttle off in the same direction. She traces their path with pale light and looks over at Jekzith as if to suggest racing the fleeing creatures, pointing out which one is hers.
"Mm. Got a punching bag?" P'draig asks with humor in his voice again a s he tilts a look over at the goldrider. "Go back to a wing," the brownrider answers that question straightforwardly. "When I did this before at Fort, I didn't though. Downtime between clutches, but that was never more than about a month or two back closer to the end of the Pass," he explains further. "It's more time between now. So. Regular shifts. Family time. Cooking. Spending time with him," a nod out towards where dragons are not visible, but presence felt. "And maybe soon building a beach house up a little ways from here." One hand frees itself and gestures in the appropriate direction. Catching on quick, Jekzith's agreement is conveyed by a slight increase in the brightness in his mind. Then he's darting in to that suggested race.
"Used to. But then my weyrmate left and I-" Hattie falls silent, eyes open now and staring up at the sky. "I'm not saying that my weyrmate /was/ the punching bag, just to be clear," she says more quietly. "But a beach house," brighter, "sounds interesting. When you say build, do you mean you'll build it yourself or plan it and get others to?" There are ripples back in Elaruth's mindtouch, something akin to 'go, go, go!' not that the little critter she's supporting can hear or understand her. It's probably just shadows looming and dragon noses being reasonably close that have the spiderclaws scuttling with every belief that their lives depend on it, one gaining on the other when it seems to grow weary. But then, maybe real racing would be more fun and the queen suddenly shoots off ahead, peering back at Jekzith as she goes.
"Know how that goes," P'draig says with quiet sympathy, but doesn't elaborate for now. "And I didn't think that's what you meant," he adds, nods about th ebeach house. "Mm. Myself. I can see how I want it to be. Someplace where all my family can get together. Hammocks on the porch for all the kids to sleep in. Big kitchen ..." he trails off, chuckles lowly. "Big interval plans." In the air, or in the water, Jekzith's not one to to not get into a race. The spiderclaws get to relax for a bit, save in the knowledge that they're not about to become a dragon snack as the brown shoots on after Elaruth, very nimble in the water.
The weyrwoman remains silent again, for longer this time, though she eventually takes a breath and replies, "You could pass it down through the generations, I guess. The house. That might be nice. Might need a /lot/ of hammocks in the end though." Hattie smiles slightly and closes her eyes again, flinging one arm back to prop behind her head. Elaruth might not be all that fast in the water, or particularly agile, but what she lacks in one area, she makes up for with another, able to position herself well with regard to underwater currents and how the other life in the ocean affects the movement of the water. Headed further and further out to sea, she breaks for the surface and dives back down again.
"Mm, could," P'draig says with a little nod. "Though in the end, wouldn't be strictly mine. It'd be on Weyr land," the brownrider points out then laughs. "Four so far," he notes mildly. "Ten total with Mic's kids." Paddy looks up at the darkening sky for a moment, the edges of the sunset tinged pink, then he scoots down to lie back again, both hands folding behind his head once more and falling into a companionable sort of silence. Jekzith on the other hand, is both speedy and agile and knows the waters pretty well too. Eventually he needs to take a break for air too though. << It gets deep very quickly, >> he points out and indeed the island's shelf is dropping away fast, deep dark water beneath.
"Just put a big, cleverly-worded, subtly-possessive sign up. People would soon get the idea," Hattie jokes quietly. "Even if it wasn't exactly legal." Quiet again, it's a minute or two before she utters, "Faranth, everyone seems to be breeding like there's no tomorrow." The prospect of deep, dark water is enough to make Elaruth hesitate and drift to a stop, trying to gain her bearings instead of barrelling on ahead. << Oh... >> is her single syllable exclamation. << There will be many different things in the deep... >> A lot to process, potentially, and she still doesn't move.
"Think so?" P'draig says with a grin up the sky. "Mm. It'd be like weyrs, I guess. They're yours so long as you live at the Weyr, but they don't /belong/ to you," the brownrider continues thoughtfully then he laughs. "Well. Mic ... he really gets around." Jekzith's drawn ahead of the gold and has to 'brake' sharply as she stops. << There are. We can chase big things to eat down there. >> There's a beat as he processes that hesitation. << Or I can race you up into the sky! >> Giving her the out in cheery fashion without remarking on that lack of movement.
"Shells, don't go reminding me - do you have any idea how long it took for me to think of my weyr as any kind of mine?" Hattie laughs. She's still laughing, more dryly and it's with a rueful smile that she declares, "I miss sex." Her other hand falls across her face and she's quick to add, "Tell anyone that I ever said that and I promise there will be consequences," not-quite-mock, not-quite-really threatening. Elaruth paddles around in a little circle and lets the waves bob her about a bit, then she decides, << The sky, >> with a grateful edge to her voice. The sky that she's peering up at with more curiosity than the open sea.
"Heh, something along the lines of nearly a turn?" P'draig suggests about the amount of time. "Ever been in the weyrlingmaster's weyr at Fort? I swear, it's even cushier than the Weyrwoman's weyr," the brownrider says with a grin. "Did eventually wind up feeling like it was mine ... it was hard giving it up." His head turns at that admission and the brownrider just smiles. "Promise. Won't tell a soul." He hesitates for a moment, then slides one hand out from under his head, reaches across for hers, aiming to lift it up out of that facepalm gently. "Being alone after being /with/ like that ... it's tough," Paddy adds quietly. Voice of experience. Jekzith pops up out of the water like a cork really and his wings stretch wide, shaking drops off them that glimmer in what's now full on twilight. Muscles bunch in a moment, he's airborne again, wings beating strongly to lift him into a hover. << C'mon? There's a great air current just over there that really just tosses you /right/ up into the sky. >>
"Sounds about right," Hattie agrees, words garbled due to her hiding oh-so-successfully beneath her palm. She lets him unwind her from it and looks across, laughter gone and voice back to quiet. "For a long time after, I didn't want anybody any kind of close. Still don't, in a lot of ways. But that doesn't mean I don't want..." The goldrider grimaces and wrinkles her nose. "Shells, I don't even know what I want. Too long in a Hold, not enough time in a Weyr, who knows." The pale queen stretches out as much as she can, then curls back to coil up and release once her wings catch the air. << Let's go. >> Almost cheerily, still shaking off the last of that apprehension, Elaruth makes to eagerly follow after.
Slightly sandy fingers squeeze the goldrider's gently and he nods. "There's different kinds of close," P'draig answers, eyes crinkling up at the corners just a little along with the warm smile he sends her way. "Some don't ask as much from a person as other kinds," he adds on, tone mild. And unless she draws it away, he keeps her hand in his. "Mm. It's okay though, to feel that way. You'll figure it out, what you do and don't feel comfortable with," Paddy says with a note of confidence in his voice. Jekzith slip slides to the side, snakes his head around to look back at Elaruth and lets out a bright warble. Flying and flying faster. This is good. It's a simple joy as the last light goes and stars come out far above.
"But whatever kind it is, someone can always take from you. Hurt you if they choose. That's the problem. They've got you then. Trapped," Hattie tells the sky, though she doesn't draw her hand away from his even if she can't really look at him when she says that. "And, in the end, what if it's nothing? What if I'm not comfortable with anything and I'm always assuming somebody is going to sell me out?" Her head drops back to the sand and this time she flings her whole arm across her face like it'll shut her up more effectively. "Just tell me to shut up, seriously, I'll bet it was a nice quiet evening before I got here." If there's one thing that Elaruth can do well, it's fly. Confidence growing, she attempts to catch up and fly in a slow loop over Jekzith as the last of the light fades from the sky, her wings catching a current to send her soaring higher again.
"Only if you let it hurt, in the end," P'draig says slowly, pushes up onto one elbow as she goes flopping back so. He hesitates for a moment, then scoots a little closer, tucks her nearer hand, against his chest, the back of it facing him. Then he reaches across, palm reaching to run up her arm and lightly circle her wrist. "Hattie, you don't have to hide. And you don't have to shut up. If you need to talk to someone ... can be easier with someone you know but aren't quite so close to, right?" Jekzith warbles again, delighted by how Elaruth gets into the swing of things. << It's just here! >> And he waggles his wings a bit, slides sideways and /whoosh/ up he goes.
"I'm not hiding. I'm... shielding my eyes from the glare of the stars," Hattie insists in a weak voice, a tremor of laughter following after. She lifts her arm a little and peeks out from beneath it, up at him. "You know, I found myself wishing she'd rise the other day, just so I'd have the excuse? That I didn't make a stupid decision? And I had /every/ intention of not letting him hurt me and still he somehow managed it. It wasn't a matter of /letting/ him." Taking a deep breath, she then exhales slowly and closes her eyes for a moment. "There. I think I'm done." If unplanned outbursts can be planned, she's sure giving it a try. Elaruth is still staring at where Jekzith just was when the same current catches her and she belatedly tucks herself into a more streamlined arrangement as it carries her along. She spins round a little once she's free and slows to hover. << That was fun! >>
"Yeah, I get that. Though -- don't think you need me to tell you it probably wouldn't really be the same thing," P'draig replies and aims to gently draw that arm down a little, fingers releasing after a moment. "And I said that badly, it's not that it doesn't hurt when -- when people leave. When they get close and then they go. But you don't have to let it take away from you." Paddy fumbles a bit with the words. "A lot of sad love lost songs are all about how much the other person took from the one who lost," he cites and looks down at her with a little wry grin. "Truth is, no one can take anything from you that way." He pauses for a moment then chuckles. "I find that the heart hurt gets better with a good amount of rum and time. And sometimes a little friendly company along the way." This time he dares to brush fingers gently against her cheek, no more than that, but it could be considered something of an overture, easily enough ignored. Jekzith bounces up high and uses the tail end of the momentu gained to zoom forward. << This way! >> Boundless energy on that brown. << And it is! So much fun. Want to go higher? We could catch moonbeams. >>
"No. I know it wouldn't," Hattie murmurs. "But at least then I could say it wasn't my fault and nobody would have any kind of power over me." She doesn't insist on continuing to shelter beneath her arm and allows it to be drawn down without much of a fight. "...I suppose that's right in a way," the goldrider quietly admits. "Not so much something that was taken, more making it abundantly clear what I'm not capable of." Those last few words might sound a bit vicious, though beyond that she only freezes and stares up when his fingers brush her cheek. "So far, I've learned that the drinking helps," is all she can seem to find to say at that moment, not all that evenly. << Moonbeams? >> Elaruth echoes, rolling lazily into another loop. << Are they not a long way away? >> And she's looking and looking and looking, head tilted.
"Doesn't have to be about power either," P'draig adds with a shake of his head. "Give and take on equal footing," he points out and his fingers curl just under her chin for a fraction of a second, then retreat when she freezes so. "Have to be careful with the rum though," Paddy notes with some humor. "Too much and you wind up being able to down bottles of the stuff in one go." There's something wry in his voice there, poking fun at himself. << Right there, see? They come through the clouds, >> Jekzith shows where a slanting ray of silvery light is peeking out from cloud and a sky truly gone dark now, except for the light of both moons and the stars around.
The dry spring season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. Tonight, a blanket of clouds dominates the black sky and a good, stiff breeze cools the Weyr.
"I'm working on that with the whiskey," Hattie replies in a similar tone of voice, eyes unfocused, having gone roaming after his fingers for just a few seconds too long to be idle study of movement. She snaps back to focus, but it's too late to stop her from blushing, maybe hidden in the dark. "Everything is about power. It's just sometimes not so obvious," she quietly counters. << Oh... >> Elaruth lets momentum carry her down a touch in a spiral, let her drift beneath the nearest cloud instead of above it. << They're beautiful. >> She waits, patient, and doesn't make any kind of further movement towards the two she can see through her cloud.
"Try not to let it go too far, with the whiskey," P'draig says quietly. "It -- got to be my personal companion. Whiskey." Even in the dark, his own focus returns to her face, something about his expression giving away the fact that he's maybe trying to get a read for that reaction and not quite catching the blush. There's another pause before his hand shifts, grazes lightly over fabric and this time, fingertips slowly trail up along the bared skin of her midriff. "Where's the power in this?" P'draig asks with sudden bluntness. << Almost wish we really /could/ catch them. But you can't catch light, only see it for a little while, >> Jekzith answers thoughtfully, wich counters the possible idea that he might be a little thick. << It's pretty on hide ... I'll bet you'd look all silver in one of those! >> It's not a sophisticated compliment, but certainly it's earnest.
She might have been about to say something hopefully reassuring about the whiskey, yet Hattie's focus wanders off again no matter how many times she tries to blink and drag it back somehow. There's nothing but silence from her for a long, long time, however eventually she admits, "I don't know," low-voiced. "Because I could ask you to stop and I think you would, but then there'd be you getting me to ask in the first place. Or you asking that question at all and whether you mean to prove me wrong in something..." And if her eyes are closed, they can't give her away. << Let's go see, >> Elaruth invites, a little quiet and shy for the compliment, still waiting a way away from the moonbeams and letting the air turn her round every now and then. << If we could get our riders to remember them for us, perhaps that would be a kind of catching? >>
"Yes, I would stop," P'draig answers simply, voice low again. "And I wouldn't think of it as getting you to ask. I guess it's not so much something to prove as just believing that people can be honest about what they want without playing games about it and sometimes if those wants match up, it's just something shared." His hand stops just shy of that knot in her shirt, flattens out and remains still. "I guess it's also ... sometimes it's okay to let people give you something without obligation beyond what you've already given too, in return." He stops there, silent for a moment, then laughs a little. "Shells, you know, I am /not/ usually this philosophical," the brownrider pokes fun at himself. Jekzith's exuberance returns, agreement conveyed in the beat of wings, angling towards moonbeams. << I'd like to see! And yes, I have a lot of things put away in P'draig's head. >> Down below, Paddy leans in a little closer, a light kiss aimed just slightly off-center so it would land more towards the corner of the goldrider's mouth rather than straight on unless she turns her head.
Hattie remains still enough to let that kiss land; waits a breath or two to say, "In my experience, everyone plays games. Perhaps not all on purpose or with conscious effort, but still..." in a murmur. "How philosophical are you usually?" she questions barely louder than her previous utterance, a hint of a smile curving her lips, maybe teasing. And if she leans and if her mouth catches his again, well, it's dark. Very dark. Elaruth finds the closest moonbeam and hovers in its light, peering up at the cloud and back along one flank as she does so, trying to catch a glimpse of the light itself and the silver glow to her hide at the same time. << Is it good? >>
"Guess that's a difference of point of view then," P'draig answers candidly, though his voice isn't quite as steady as it was before. "Can't really come up with a game if you're not doing it consciously." That hint of teasing earns a low chuckle in response. "I'm kind of more moment to moment. Though things will wander through my head, usually when I've just spent a day thinking," he notes with further humor until her mouth tilts up to his this time. Very dark. Dark enough no one can see his hand lifting from where it rested a moment ago so that fingers can carefully tug that knot in her shirt free. Jekzith slides through a couple of beams of light and his crazy patchwork quilt hide isn't really improved much by this sort of shade. Sunset served him better with all its ruddy hues. He comes about though to look at Elaruth and again, it's a straightforward compliment: << /Stunning/. >>
A low murmur of a noise escapes Hattie and from somewhere she finds the sense to say, "You have a weyrmate. And I'm not supposed to--" Any number of things, perhaps, from how she can't immediately finish that argument; eventually not finish it at all. That still doesn't stop her hands sliding and reaching for his hips, fingers curling, or prompt her to put any kind of distance between them. In the sky, Elaruth darts from beneath her beam and drifts closer to Jekzith, close enough to touch the tip of her tail to his and try and make his tailtip glow with the sheen of her hide, even if she can't manage much else. << There. >> Even if she's not entirely successful.
Knot released, buttons next and this time it's her forehead that P'draig kisses gently. "T'mic doesn't understand monogamy, or why anyone would want it," is his shorthand for explaining the nature of his weyrmate. He pauses though, for whatever she meant to say after 'supposed to' but when the words don't come and she reaches for him instead, Paddy meets her halfway. "No promises, no demands," he murmurs quietly before cutting off his own speech by kissing her more than soundly. Maybe later he might have something of his own recent difficulties to share, but for now, out under moons and stars, there's only the moment. Aloft, Jekzith is touched and that glimmers as an infusion of rose across cooler blue. << Thank you, >> is the still simple and straightforward response, but then there's more moonbeams to chase and wisps of cloud, until it's time to return to that beach to curl up near their riders.
When: day 22, month 5, turn 21 of Interval 10.
Where: Secluded Beach, Ista Weyr
What: P'draig's chilling out a little ways away from the Weyr. Hattie had similar thoughts. Where they wind up is probably a surprise to both. (+tag scene). Continued in Mutual Understanding.
Secluded Beach, Ista Weyr(#733RJ)
Surrounded by dense jungle is an empty beach that provides just enough space for two or three dragons to land. Velvety black sands are swept relentlessly by waves, stark white foam sliding seaward after the receding waters. Ista's main beach lies somewhere to the north, but it's impossible to see from such a secluded cranny on the coastline. The jutting fingers of the Weyr are still visible beyond the dense jungle canopy, but there is the illusion that here and now there is no one else on all of Pern.
The dry spring season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. At the height of mid-day, clouds interrupt the sky and a good, stiff breeze cools the Weyr.
It's the end of the day, the sun's sliding downward, bathing the beach with the ruddy light of Rukbat's setting. Ista's weather is lovely in late spring: warm, but not humid like it will be in just a few weeks likely. It's a lonely little stretch of beach a little ways away from the Weyr, cupped by verdant jungle and bracing arms of rock, though an intrepid soul could walk the whole way along black sand. Jekzith is out far over the water, dipping down to skim the waves' surface with wings or talons then wheeling up high again, tireless. P'draig meanwhile is indulging in rare solitude and relaxation, woodworking set aside on the blanket where the brownrider lounges, hands pillowing his head, eyes closed. It could seem that he sleeps, though one leg drawn upward still bears enough tension to perhaps put the lie to that assumption. Shirtless, with just a pair of old shorts for swimwear, the Weyr's most recent former Weyrlingmaster at this moment in time presents an image of idleness beyond compare.
Elaruth rarely makes a scene about landing and today is no different, save for her winding herself right back into a pale oval the moment all four paws have touched sand and the startled blink when she finds find the beach not as empty as she was perhaps expecting. She might be quiet about it and goes very still, making it more difficult for her rider to clamber down from somewhere within that coil, but Hattie is not quiet in her scrambling or particularly neat about it, boots hitting the ground with a good solid thud. She leans back against her queen, arms folded, and eyes the brownrider without saying a word.
The scrambling earns a cracking open of gray-blue eyes, Paddy's head turning within the pillow of his hands. Jekzith's seen the coil of gold landing on dark sand and bubbles of thought float cheerily towards the queen: << Hello! Nice day isn't it? >> Polite and energetic, thoughts edged with electric blue. "Hattie," P'draig pronounces after a moment and he pushes up into a sitting position first, dusts sand off his arms and rises, padding over towards the goldrider. "Ista's duties and all that. Looking to get away from things for a little while?" the brownrider queries with a warm smile, welcoming.
Hattie still looks as if she can't quite decide what to do about this turn of events and stays leaning there against Elaruth for a moment, until the gold has to uncurl a little to peer out across the ocean and find Jekzith. << Good evening. >> Quiet, ripples in shallow water still fading out after being startled. << It is a nice day. Not too warm. >> Her rider finally unfreezes and finds her voice. "P'draig. Fort's duties to Ista." Despite that smile, she doesn't manage to summon one in return and says, almost defensively, "A little while," as though she believes she's being accused of slacking. "Congratulations on the graduation of your most recent class. I must stop by to see Nenita some time."
Bubbles pop in sequence, releasing images of light flickering on water, breeze winding through trees and the happy call of children. Maybe that's from earlier. << It's nice to see you again! Will you be coming out to fly, or staying to enjoy the warm sand? >> Taking in Hattie's manner, Paddy comes to a stop a few steps away, hands sliding into pockets and his grin goes lopsided. "Can't blame you. Sounds like things are rough at Fort these days," he says quietly and looks out across the water, the wind ruffling through dark hair. "Thanks," he adds about the weyrlings. "Think she'd like the visit. She's been really busy with things going the way they have here."
<< To swim, >> Elaruth responds, relaxing little by little and allowing faint sunlight to drift through her words. << And fly, perhaps. Or float. >> Hattie shrugs and turns to start pulling straps from her lifemate, yanking down a pack that hits the sand and rolls. Better hope there's nothing breakable in there. "It's nothing we can't handle," she says over her shoulder, but is that a pause for breath or does her voice hitch? "It must be difficult, to have that knot so soon. I remember that she's not exactly fond of paperwork." Straps coiled up, she lobs them after the pack and gives Elaruth a gentle nudge to see her off, the queen taking steps towards the shore. "She'd like to swim. We can be gone pretty quick if you want the place to yourselves, though."
<< Oh both are fun! >> Jekzith replies with honest enthusiasm. << Would you like to come with me? I can dive pretty deeply. It's /interesting/ down there. >> Motley brown hide catches the ruddier hints of the setting sun as he turns, the long, loose-limbed brown tucking to dive towards the water. "I worry some," P'draig confesses. "Fort... was home for a long time," he says slowly and r eaches to try to help with unstrapping. "Want a hand?" Breath out a nod. "Yeah. It's a heavy load to get a big knot young and almost right out of Weyrlinghood. At least Griere's around for her to lean on some." His hands return to his pockets as the queen is freed and Hattie nudges. "Company's welcome," Paddy notes lightly, gestures towards his blanket. "So long as you don't mind some wood shavings."
"Don't," Hattie responds, just a bit sharply. "Worry. If anyone else keeps on with it, the place'll implode. Or explode. I don't know..." Her voice trails off and she stares out at the ocean, one hand caught midway in a run through her hair. "We're handling it," she quietly insists, animated again and pacing towards her pack. "What're you making?" she asks, with a glance up and towards the blanket. Elaruth keeps on taking slow steps to the shore, pace quickening only when the ocean changes the consistency of the sand. She's shoulder-deep in water by the time she replies, head tipped up to watch the brown's dive. << Yes, >> she decides. << What is down there? >> A few more metres into the sea and she spreads her wings to float for the time being.
P'draig watches those shifts in the goldrider, brow furrowing just a little. "Can't help but think about people I know and care about," the brownrider says with a little roll of his shoulders and backs up a pace or two, turns back to the blanket to sweep the little curls of wood out of the way. "A big mixing spoon, actually. It's for Nenita as a matter of fact. Something I'm hoping will both make her laugh and also be a reminder that she doesn't have to be the Weyrwoman all the time." Jekzith splashes down fairly neatly really, making waves out where it's deep and he paddles in place, noses water towards the shore, though it' a largely futile gesture. << Fish. Plants. Rocks. Scuttly things. Bigger fish to hunt. They taste good but you have to mind their teeth. >> Enthusiasm again.
No retort from Hattie, only the set of her jaw to give anything away. Rummaging around, she finds a towel big enough to wrap somebody twice her height in and then pads to set it down beside the blanket, tying her shirt up to just below her chest somewhen before she sits down. "Is it just to make her laugh or could she mix a big cake with it?" she questions. "'Cause, you know, I'm sure cake makes paperwork more bearable." Elaruth paddles out to deeper water, then folds her wings in a movement quite quick for her, sunlight reflecting off water clearer than the ocean - or is the sunlight just that bright? - sent Jekzith's way. << Scuttly things. >> And then she's gone. Yes, that would be 'Scuttly things. Bye' as the little queen dives beneath the surface to find them, tail left poking out of the water and waving encouragement for a few seconds.
"Both, yes," P'draig says with a smile over his shoulder at the Fortian goldrider and sits back down himself. "And ... I didn't mean to offend. I know Fort's leaders are capable. It can sometimes be -- well weird. Being split between more than one place you call home, or used to," the brownrider explains, picking up the long piece of wood and holding it out towards her. "She still likes to cook sometimes, I think. So you know. Figured when the chips get down, she can either use this to whack people over the head with, or go take her frustrations out on some batter." Jekzith needs no further encouragement on that score, zinging orange and lemon highlights threading through electric blue with excitement as he upends himself to dive down after Elaruth and meet her down where it's deeper, darker, and there's lots of odd varieties of spiderclaws to watch.
"It's alright. You didn't offend. I promise you that you'd really know by now if you had," Hattie says dryly, reaching back to study the spoon in progress. "I have to say, of the two options, I'd go for the whacking people over the head one, personally. Plus, with a spoon, you could hardly be accused of premeditated intent to harm." She unlaces her boots and sets them down on sand; starts to roll the cuffs of her trousers up. "Safriath's a bit young to go up any time soon, isn't she? Well, then I guess I thought that of," a nod toward where Elaruth /used/ to be, "and she didn't plan on waiting." Once she's dived down deep, it takes Elaruth a little while to adjust to new surroundings; hesitation there, then more paddling. She picks one spiderclaw in particular to watch and aligns herself above it, meaning to follow by all appearances. Except, well, there's quite a size difference there and it involves not a massive amount of movement from her, which gives her time to seek out Jekzith and tap the tip of her tail gently to his flank.
"Fair enough," P'draig replies quietly, taking the spoon back and setting it down. Both of his knees draw up partly towards his chest, arms wrapped around and one hand clasping the wrist of the other lightly. His chuckle is merry enough when it comes. "I'll make sure to tell her that you recommend the whacking ... and yes, it'll be a while, unless she's out of synch," the brownrider notes about Safriath. No hesitation from Jekzith as he eels more than paddles through the water, making good use of the long, lean shape of his frame. There's a playful tap of tail in return as he glides alongside, though their shadows incite panic in the critters and really send them scuttling along the bottom.
Hattie flops back to the sand and just breathes in and out for a while, her eyes closed. "Me, I think I'd hit people with books, but then there might be damage done to pages and that'd be a waste of a good book," she murmurs. "Though I imagine they'd knock people out quite nicely." She probably shouldn't be smiling when she says that. "So, what do you do when you're not herding weyrlings?" Elaruth keeps track of that one spiderclaw, paddling once every now and then to keep up with it. On its journey, it's joined by another and the two scuttle off in the same direction. She traces their path with pale light and looks over at Jekzith as if to suggest racing the fleeing creatures, pointing out which one is hers.
"Mm. Got a punching bag?" P'draig asks with humor in his voice again a s he tilts a look over at the goldrider. "Go back to a wing," the brownrider answers that question straightforwardly. "When I did this before at Fort, I didn't though. Downtime between clutches, but that was never more than about a month or two back closer to the end of the Pass," he explains further. "It's more time between now. So. Regular shifts. Family time. Cooking. Spending time with him," a nod out towards where dragons are not visible, but presence felt. "And maybe soon building a beach house up a little ways from here." One hand frees itself and gestures in the appropriate direction. Catching on quick, Jekzith's agreement is conveyed by a slight increase in the brightness in his mind. Then he's darting in to that suggested race.
"Used to. But then my weyrmate left and I-" Hattie falls silent, eyes open now and staring up at the sky. "I'm not saying that my weyrmate /was/ the punching bag, just to be clear," she says more quietly. "But a beach house," brighter, "sounds interesting. When you say build, do you mean you'll build it yourself or plan it and get others to?" There are ripples back in Elaruth's mindtouch, something akin to 'go, go, go!' not that the little critter she's supporting can hear or understand her. It's probably just shadows looming and dragon noses being reasonably close that have the spiderclaws scuttling with every belief that their lives depend on it, one gaining on the other when it seems to grow weary. But then, maybe real racing would be more fun and the queen suddenly shoots off ahead, peering back at Jekzith as she goes.
"Know how that goes," P'draig says with quiet sympathy, but doesn't elaborate for now. "And I didn't think that's what you meant," he adds, nods about th ebeach house. "Mm. Myself. I can see how I want it to be. Someplace where all my family can get together. Hammocks on the porch for all the kids to sleep in. Big kitchen ..." he trails off, chuckles lowly. "Big interval plans." In the air, or in the water, Jekzith's not one to to not get into a race. The spiderclaws get to relax for a bit, save in the knowledge that they're not about to become a dragon snack as the brown shoots on after Elaruth, very nimble in the water.
The weyrwoman remains silent again, for longer this time, though she eventually takes a breath and replies, "You could pass it down through the generations, I guess. The house. That might be nice. Might need a /lot/ of hammocks in the end though." Hattie smiles slightly and closes her eyes again, flinging one arm back to prop behind her head. Elaruth might not be all that fast in the water, or particularly agile, but what she lacks in one area, she makes up for with another, able to position herself well with regard to underwater currents and how the other life in the ocean affects the movement of the water. Headed further and further out to sea, she breaks for the surface and dives back down again.
"Mm, could," P'draig says with a little nod. "Though in the end, wouldn't be strictly mine. It'd be on Weyr land," the brownrider points out then laughs. "Four so far," he notes mildly. "Ten total with Mic's kids." Paddy looks up at the darkening sky for a moment, the edges of the sunset tinged pink, then he scoots down to lie back again, both hands folding behind his head once more and falling into a companionable sort of silence. Jekzith on the other hand, is both speedy and agile and knows the waters pretty well too. Eventually he needs to take a break for air too though. << It gets deep very quickly, >> he points out and indeed the island's shelf is dropping away fast, deep dark water beneath.
"Just put a big, cleverly-worded, subtly-possessive sign up. People would soon get the idea," Hattie jokes quietly. "Even if it wasn't exactly legal." Quiet again, it's a minute or two before she utters, "Faranth, everyone seems to be breeding like there's no tomorrow." The prospect of deep, dark water is enough to make Elaruth hesitate and drift to a stop, trying to gain her bearings instead of barrelling on ahead. << Oh... >> is her single syllable exclamation. << There will be many different things in the deep... >> A lot to process, potentially, and she still doesn't move.
"Think so?" P'draig says with a grin up the sky. "Mm. It'd be like weyrs, I guess. They're yours so long as you live at the Weyr, but they don't /belong/ to you," the brownrider continues thoughtfully then he laughs. "Well. Mic ... he really gets around." Jekzith's drawn ahead of the gold and has to 'brake' sharply as she stops. << There are. We can chase big things to eat down there. >> There's a beat as he processes that hesitation. << Or I can race you up into the sky! >> Giving her the out in cheery fashion without remarking on that lack of movement.
"Shells, don't go reminding me - do you have any idea how long it took for me to think of my weyr as any kind of mine?" Hattie laughs. She's still laughing, more dryly and it's with a rueful smile that she declares, "I miss sex." Her other hand falls across her face and she's quick to add, "Tell anyone that I ever said that and I promise there will be consequences," not-quite-mock, not-quite-really threatening. Elaruth paddles around in a little circle and lets the waves bob her about a bit, then she decides, << The sky, >> with a grateful edge to her voice. The sky that she's peering up at with more curiosity than the open sea.
"Heh, something along the lines of nearly a turn?" P'draig suggests about the amount of time. "Ever been in the weyrlingmaster's weyr at Fort? I swear, it's even cushier than the Weyrwoman's weyr," the brownrider says with a grin. "Did eventually wind up feeling like it was mine ... it was hard giving it up." His head turns at that admission and the brownrider just smiles. "Promise. Won't tell a soul." He hesitates for a moment, then slides one hand out from under his head, reaches across for hers, aiming to lift it up out of that facepalm gently. "Being alone after being /with/ like that ... it's tough," Paddy adds quietly. Voice of experience. Jekzith pops up out of the water like a cork really and his wings stretch wide, shaking drops off them that glimmer in what's now full on twilight. Muscles bunch in a moment, he's airborne again, wings beating strongly to lift him into a hover. << C'mon? There's a great air current just over there that really just tosses you /right/ up into the sky. >>
"Sounds about right," Hattie agrees, words garbled due to her hiding oh-so-successfully beneath her palm. She lets him unwind her from it and looks across, laughter gone and voice back to quiet. "For a long time after, I didn't want anybody any kind of close. Still don't, in a lot of ways. But that doesn't mean I don't want..." The goldrider grimaces and wrinkles her nose. "Shells, I don't even know what I want. Too long in a Hold, not enough time in a Weyr, who knows." The pale queen stretches out as much as she can, then curls back to coil up and release once her wings catch the air. << Let's go. >> Almost cheerily, still shaking off the last of that apprehension, Elaruth makes to eagerly follow after.
Slightly sandy fingers squeeze the goldrider's gently and he nods. "There's different kinds of close," P'draig answers, eyes crinkling up at the corners just a little along with the warm smile he sends her way. "Some don't ask as much from a person as other kinds," he adds on, tone mild. And unless she draws it away, he keeps her hand in his. "Mm. It's okay though, to feel that way. You'll figure it out, what you do and don't feel comfortable with," Paddy says with a note of confidence in his voice. Jekzith slip slides to the side, snakes his head around to look back at Elaruth and lets out a bright warble. Flying and flying faster. This is good. It's a simple joy as the last light goes and stars come out far above.
"But whatever kind it is, someone can always take from you. Hurt you if they choose. That's the problem. They've got you then. Trapped," Hattie tells the sky, though she doesn't draw her hand away from his even if she can't really look at him when she says that. "And, in the end, what if it's nothing? What if I'm not comfortable with anything and I'm always assuming somebody is going to sell me out?" Her head drops back to the sand and this time she flings her whole arm across her face like it'll shut her up more effectively. "Just tell me to shut up, seriously, I'll bet it was a nice quiet evening before I got here." If there's one thing that Elaruth can do well, it's fly. Confidence growing, she attempts to catch up and fly in a slow loop over Jekzith as the last of the light fades from the sky, her wings catching a current to send her soaring higher again.
"Only if you let it hurt, in the end," P'draig says slowly, pushes up onto one elbow as she goes flopping back so. He hesitates for a moment, then scoots a little closer, tucks her nearer hand, against his chest, the back of it facing him. Then he reaches across, palm reaching to run up her arm and lightly circle her wrist. "Hattie, you don't have to hide. And you don't have to shut up. If you need to talk to someone ... can be easier with someone you know but aren't quite so close to, right?" Jekzith warbles again, delighted by how Elaruth gets into the swing of things. << It's just here! >> And he waggles his wings a bit, slides sideways and /whoosh/ up he goes.
"I'm not hiding. I'm... shielding my eyes from the glare of the stars," Hattie insists in a weak voice, a tremor of laughter following after. She lifts her arm a little and peeks out from beneath it, up at him. "You know, I found myself wishing she'd rise the other day, just so I'd have the excuse? That I didn't make a stupid decision? And I had /every/ intention of not letting him hurt me and still he somehow managed it. It wasn't a matter of /letting/ him." Taking a deep breath, she then exhales slowly and closes her eyes for a moment. "There. I think I'm done." If unplanned outbursts can be planned, she's sure giving it a try. Elaruth is still staring at where Jekzith just was when the same current catches her and she belatedly tucks herself into a more streamlined arrangement as it carries her along. She spins round a little once she's free and slows to hover. << That was fun! >>
"Yeah, I get that. Though -- don't think you need me to tell you it probably wouldn't really be the same thing," P'draig replies and aims to gently draw that arm down a little, fingers releasing after a moment. "And I said that badly, it's not that it doesn't hurt when -- when people leave. When they get close and then they go. But you don't have to let it take away from you." Paddy fumbles a bit with the words. "A lot of sad love lost songs are all about how much the other person took from the one who lost," he cites and looks down at her with a little wry grin. "Truth is, no one can take anything from you that way." He pauses for a moment then chuckles. "I find that the heart hurt gets better with a good amount of rum and time. And sometimes a little friendly company along the way." This time he dares to brush fingers gently against her cheek, no more than that, but it could be considered something of an overture, easily enough ignored. Jekzith bounces up high and uses the tail end of the momentu gained to zoom forward. << This way! >> Boundless energy on that brown. << And it is! So much fun. Want to go higher? We could catch moonbeams. >>
"No. I know it wouldn't," Hattie murmurs. "But at least then I could say it wasn't my fault and nobody would have any kind of power over me." She doesn't insist on continuing to shelter beneath her arm and allows it to be drawn down without much of a fight. "...I suppose that's right in a way," the goldrider quietly admits. "Not so much something that was taken, more making it abundantly clear what I'm not capable of." Those last few words might sound a bit vicious, though beyond that she only freezes and stares up when his fingers brush her cheek. "So far, I've learned that the drinking helps," is all she can seem to find to say at that moment, not all that evenly. << Moonbeams? >> Elaruth echoes, rolling lazily into another loop. << Are they not a long way away? >> And she's looking and looking and looking, head tilted.
"Doesn't have to be about power either," P'draig adds with a shake of his head. "Give and take on equal footing," he points out and his fingers curl just under her chin for a fraction of a second, then retreat when she freezes so. "Have to be careful with the rum though," Paddy notes with some humor. "Too much and you wind up being able to down bottles of the stuff in one go." There's something wry in his voice there, poking fun at himself. << Right there, see? They come through the clouds, >> Jekzith shows where a slanting ray of silvery light is peeking out from cloud and a sky truly gone dark now, except for the light of both moons and the stars around.
The dry spring season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. Tonight, a blanket of clouds dominates the black sky and a good, stiff breeze cools the Weyr.
"I'm working on that with the whiskey," Hattie replies in a similar tone of voice, eyes unfocused, having gone roaming after his fingers for just a few seconds too long to be idle study of movement. She snaps back to focus, but it's too late to stop her from blushing, maybe hidden in the dark. "Everything is about power. It's just sometimes not so obvious," she quietly counters. << Oh... >> Elaruth lets momentum carry her down a touch in a spiral, let her drift beneath the nearest cloud instead of above it. << They're beautiful. >> She waits, patient, and doesn't make any kind of further movement towards the two she can see through her cloud.
"Try not to let it go too far, with the whiskey," P'draig says quietly. "It -- got to be my personal companion. Whiskey." Even in the dark, his own focus returns to her face, something about his expression giving away the fact that he's maybe trying to get a read for that reaction and not quite catching the blush. There's another pause before his hand shifts, grazes lightly over fabric and this time, fingertips slowly trail up along the bared skin of her midriff. "Where's the power in this?" P'draig asks with sudden bluntness. << Almost wish we really /could/ catch them. But you can't catch light, only see it for a little while, >> Jekzith answers thoughtfully, wich counters the possible idea that he might be a little thick. << It's pretty on hide ... I'll bet you'd look all silver in one of those! >> It's not a sophisticated compliment, but certainly it's earnest.
She might have been about to say something hopefully reassuring about the whiskey, yet Hattie's focus wanders off again no matter how many times she tries to blink and drag it back somehow. There's nothing but silence from her for a long, long time, however eventually she admits, "I don't know," low-voiced. "Because I could ask you to stop and I think you would, but then there'd be you getting me to ask in the first place. Or you asking that question at all and whether you mean to prove me wrong in something..." And if her eyes are closed, they can't give her away. << Let's go see, >> Elaruth invites, a little quiet and shy for the compliment, still waiting a way away from the moonbeams and letting the air turn her round every now and then. << If we could get our riders to remember them for us, perhaps that would be a kind of catching? >>
"Yes, I would stop," P'draig answers simply, voice low again. "And I wouldn't think of it as getting you to ask. I guess it's not so much something to prove as just believing that people can be honest about what they want without playing games about it and sometimes if those wants match up, it's just something shared." His hand stops just shy of that knot in her shirt, flattens out and remains still. "I guess it's also ... sometimes it's okay to let people give you something without obligation beyond what you've already given too, in return." He stops there, silent for a moment, then laughs a little. "Shells, you know, I am /not/ usually this philosophical," the brownrider pokes fun at himself. Jekzith's exuberance returns, agreement conveyed in the beat of wings, angling towards moonbeams. << I'd like to see! And yes, I have a lot of things put away in P'draig's head. >> Down below, Paddy leans in a little closer, a light kiss aimed just slightly off-center so it would land more towards the corner of the goldrider's mouth rather than straight on unless she turns her head.
Hattie remains still enough to let that kiss land; waits a breath or two to say, "In my experience, everyone plays games. Perhaps not all on purpose or with conscious effort, but still..." in a murmur. "How philosophical are you usually?" she questions barely louder than her previous utterance, a hint of a smile curving her lips, maybe teasing. And if she leans and if her mouth catches his again, well, it's dark. Very dark. Elaruth finds the closest moonbeam and hovers in its light, peering up at the cloud and back along one flank as she does so, trying to catch a glimpse of the light itself and the silver glow to her hide at the same time. << Is it good? >>
"Guess that's a difference of point of view then," P'draig answers candidly, though his voice isn't quite as steady as it was before. "Can't really come up with a game if you're not doing it consciously." That hint of teasing earns a low chuckle in response. "I'm kind of more moment to moment. Though things will wander through my head, usually when I've just spent a day thinking," he notes with further humor until her mouth tilts up to his this time. Very dark. Dark enough no one can see his hand lifting from where it rested a moment ago so that fingers can carefully tug that knot in her shirt free. Jekzith slides through a couple of beams of light and his crazy patchwork quilt hide isn't really improved much by this sort of shade. Sunset served him better with all its ruddy hues. He comes about though to look at Elaruth and again, it's a straightforward compliment: << /Stunning/. >>
A low murmur of a noise escapes Hattie and from somewhere she finds the sense to say, "You have a weyrmate. And I'm not supposed to--" Any number of things, perhaps, from how she can't immediately finish that argument; eventually not finish it at all. That still doesn't stop her hands sliding and reaching for his hips, fingers curling, or prompt her to put any kind of distance between them. In the sky, Elaruth darts from beneath her beam and drifts closer to Jekzith, close enough to touch the tip of her tail to his and try and make his tailtip glow with the sheen of her hide, even if she can't manage much else. << There. >> Even if she's not entirely successful.
Knot released, buttons next and this time it's her forehead that P'draig kisses gently. "T'mic doesn't understand monogamy, or why anyone would want it," is his shorthand for explaining the nature of his weyrmate. He pauses though, for whatever she meant to say after 'supposed to' but when the words don't come and she reaches for him instead, Paddy meets her halfway. "No promises, no demands," he murmurs quietly before cutting off his own speech by kissing her more than soundly. Maybe later he might have something of his own recent difficulties to share, but for now, out under moons and stars, there's only the moment. Aloft, Jekzith is touched and that glimmers as an infusion of rose across cooler blue. << Thank you, >> is the still simple and straightforward response, but then there's more moonbeams to chase and wisps of cloud, until it's time to return to that beach to curl up near their riders.