Log: Turnover Promise
Who: Hattie, P'draig
When: Past midnight, day 1, month 1, turn 25 of the 10th interval
Where: Hattie's Weyr, Fort Weyr
What: After a long night of obligation and celebration, Hattie comes home to find Paddy sacked out on her couch. When he wakes up, he has a turnover gift for her.
It's very very late, or early, depending on which way you look at it at Ista, which could explain why P'draig's actually asleep on the couch here in Hattie's weyr. It's likely he retreated from Fort's festivities some time ago to take a little break and didn't mean to conk out, but there he is all sprawled out with one arm folded behind his head, one leg slumped off the side of the couch and snoring lightly. Happy turnover?
Asleep on the couch has to be one better than asleep on your feet, which Hattie looks to be getting towards given the not too steady nature of her footsteps and the fact that she simply goes throwing things such as her shawl and one hairpin after another to the floor in an uneven trail as she finally gets home and wanders through her weyr. The Weyrwoman slows to a halt as she discovers P'draig on her couch, simply watches him for a moment or two, then reaches to unceremoniously yank her boots off and hops up onto the arm of the couch, peering down at the brownrider. "What are we going to do with you?" she murmurs, not necessarily loud enough to wake him.
It could be long-ingrained habits from being a weyrlingmaster for so many turns, or being a father of young children, but Paddy stirs at the sound of that murmur and the snoring stutters to a halt. His eyes open after a moment, one hand sweeping upward across his face and he tilts his head up, focusing on Hattie slowly. The brownrider's face splits into a goofy, fond sort of grin and he reaches up to slide his arm at a somewhat awkward angle around her. "Hi ..."
It's a weary, somewhat silly (for Hattie) smile that P'draig receives in return, though as he reaches to slide an arm around her, she shifts, meaning to find her feet again, telling him rather bluntly to, "Budge up," before she goes to fold herself down into whatever space becomes available. "I got stuck talking to an incredibly dull Harper," she explains. "If you think I'm oddly organized, you should meet him. Nobody needs to know his plans for the next ten turns in that much detail. Especially not on turnover."
"Huh, sounds like my brother," P'draig quips as he gives the goldrider a little squeeze, then lets go as she shifts. The brownrider masks a yawn, one-handed, then slides to the side a little, arm held out to welcome Hattie to his side. "Sorry you got stuck with the not-fun-guy. Give me a minute and I can try to make up for it by being the fun guy?"
Pausing only to sort out her skirts, Hattie just curls up right up against P'draig, eyes closing for a little while. "It's all right. Part of the job. You only really get to have proper fun when everyone else isn't meant to be enjoying themselves on your watch," she says quietly. Another smile gets hidden against his shoulder, soft laughter escaping her. "You're going to be the fun guy, huh? Sound like the semi-conscious guy to me," she teases.
"Mm. I know. Still can feel sympathetic about it. Empathize too. Weyrlingmasters don't usually get to have fun after hatchings either," he says with a low chuckle and turns his head to brush a kiss to her temple. "Well, see, I'll grant I'm not much fun when I'm asleep, unless you like the sound of snoring. But I'm awake now ... and even semi-conscious, I'm told I have a very active imagination," he deadpans, hand running lightly up along the edge of Hattie's arm invitingly. "I'd love to distract you for a little while ... though I do have something for you, before we get too distracted to pay attention to much else."
"I don't know... Finding different ways to wake you up can be a considerable amount of fun," Hattie murmurs, reaching to once again stop her skirts from tumbling over the edge of the couch. "And, to be honest, I think even in sleep your imagination must be very active," she deadpans, tipping her head back a little to press a kiss to his neck. "Go on then. I think you'd better distract me with something else before we get too distracted with other things."
"Pretty skirts," P'draig notes a little absently as his eyes slide closed again in reaction to the touch of lips to neck. A quiet murmur of enjoyment passes his lips. "I'm very distractible," he confesses, then clears his throat a couple of times and sits up a little so he can reach for the jacket he abandoned on the floor just shy of the couch. From the inner pocket, he draws out a small, wrapped package and offers it to Hattie. "I'd meant this ... well I'd meant it to mean something different when I started making it. But now, given how things've changed, I'd like to offer this as a symbol of how I feel about you. What we've committed to," Paddy says quietly.
"Shame you didn't get to see an awful lot of them until now," Hattie says dryly, voice still held low. She moves a little when P'draig does, shifting to lean back against the armrest a bit and make accepting and starting to unwrap the offered package a more elegant affair than it might have been. As she unwraps it, her gaze lifts to focus back on the brownrider for a few moments, head turning to brush her lips to his cheek this time. "And now you're sounding terribly eloquent this evening," she tells him gently, though she pauses to amend, "Morning."
Paddy's gaze shifts back to those skirts briefly, but lifts up to Hattie's face as she takes the package and starts to unwrap it. He smiles when her lips brush his cheek and his arm slides around her shoulder. "I can be when I have a mind to be," the brownrider answers simply, laughs a bit at that amendment. "Definitely morning at Ista." He turns slightly, so he's quasi-facing the goldrider. "Happy turnover, Hattie," the brownrider says softly, though his tone carries deep affection, belying the simplicity of that wish. Inside the package is a seemingly simple medallion of wood, most of the center carved out so that it's a ring encircling the curved shape of three cat-tail headed reeds, bending in the wind. An angled S-curved implies water flowing from one side of the circle and around the base of the reeds. The edges of the wood have been dipped in gold to ward against wear and tear. On the back, carved along the upper curve of the circle are their two names, while below is this turnover's date.
Fingers trace lightly over reeds and water to gradually make their way around the whole outer ring before Hattie carefully turns the medallion over and traces almost exactly the same pattern as she did only a second or two ago. She's quiet the whole time and, when fingers have completed their journey, turns it over a second time. Instead of reaching for P'draig or trying to hide behind something of a distracting nature, she tilts her head a little and casts her gaze up again, seeking his. She takes another breath and is still silent for that moment until she manages to say very steadily for all its quiet, "I love you." Even then she doesn't look away or try to find something else to say to quickly move on from the words she rarely finds herself able to utter at all.
P'draig remains silent while Hattie explores the contours of the piece, his gaze meeting hers steadily when her eyes lift to his. When she speaks, he smiles again and his hand lifts to her cheek, curves there gently. "I love you too," the brownrider answers and waits a moment longer before tilting his head to offer a kiss that's intended to be sweet, rather than distracting. When he draws back: "There's a chain for the loop there, it's probably caught in the fold ... would you like me to put it on you?"
Even after she's drawn back a little way from that kiss, Hattie's gaze remains fixed on the brownrider for a few moments, as though conducting some sort of quiet, if entirely obvious, study. She nods several times in response to his question, maintaining her silence for a while longer, fingers curling and uncurling carefully around the medallion resting on her palm.
Without making a fuss about it, Paddy reaches into the wrapping to extricate the fine golden chain and then gently threads it through the loop intended for that purpose. Once done, he lifts the medallion out of Hattie's palm, shifts to brush her hair out of the way and drapes the jewelry around her neck, fumbles with the clasp on the chain for a moment or two. Finally, it catches and he arranges it carefully so it doesn't snag in her hair. Drawing back a little, he subjects her to some scrutiny of his own, gaze ... full. A few seconds later, whatever willpower was restraining him crumbles and he reaches to pull Hattie into his arms tightly. "I'll never leave you," he murmurs lowly, but with an intensity that lends strength to the words: he really, really means it.
Hattie remains still as the chain is dealt with and jewellery arranged, save for the span of a breath when she lifts to pull the last of the pins from her hair and restore her to more or less herself rather than the more formal Weyrwoman mode. Her arms go just as tightly around P'draig when he reaches for her and /still/ she's silent as she burrows in close in such a way that few to none would expect her to be capable of. Despite the strength behind his words, something makes her ask, "...Really?" in a voice that doesn't sound like her at all, like she needs to hear it again rather than doubts him.
P'draig's fingers curl into the fabric at the back of Hattie's dress. "Never," he repeats, voice a bit rougher this time. "What's not Jekzith's, body, mind and heart, I'm yours," Paddy promises with deep conviction and holds the goldrider close for some time longer, though his grip relaxes somewhat to something more comfortable after a few minutes.
Deep, measured breaths likely let on attempts to slow a racing heart, Hattie's grip taking that bit longer to relax, tension slowly, slowly draining from her along with the strength in her even with her relatively small frame. There's nothing beyond that eventual relaxation to acknowledge that she's listened and understood, her eyes closing as she keeps tucked close with her face hidden against his neck, breaths beginning to even out again.
Be it the benefit of age and experience or just knowing Hattie very well by now, Paddy understands well enough to leave the moment alone and just continues to hold her until she's relaxed and beyond. The fire pops and crackles during that interval and his head lifts when a particularly bright shower of sparks illuminates the room briefly. Drawing back slightly, his hand lifts to trace the contour of her cheek once more and without saying anything further, he tilts his head to kiss his mate, with slow-building fervor that's likely to lead to the distraction they both mentioned before but have been distracted from distracting each other with.
Before she can get too caught-up and too involved to think of anything but pressing close to P'draig as that kiss slowly deepens and goes on, Hattie draws back a little to murmur, "Bed," somewhat breathlessly, one hand going to tug at the indigo laces of her dress. Leaning back into him, she kisses him again, starting right where she left off, only to draw away more suddenly this time and hold out hands his way as she starts to abandon the couch, bare feet touching down on the cool floor. "Bed," she says again, more inviting than insistent, enough laces undone to make her dress start slipping at one shoulder.
Breathless, Paddy makes a low murmur of protest that promptly gets cut off by Hattie's return. This time there's heat enough to burn with in that kiss, even if it's ended all the more abruptly. "Shells ..." Paddy breathes out, gaze focused intently on Hattie's face. That focus shifts as she draws away and her skirts go cascading off the couch, swirl around her ankles and laces loosen enough to expose skin. She doesn't have to repeat that invitation a third time. The brownrider pushes to his feet in a swift, smooth motion and kicks off his shoes. Already loosened at the collar earlier, he shimmies out of his shirt, pulling it off over his head. Then he takes Hattie's hands, pulls her against him and lifts one hand to trace along the line of that slipped sleeve right before he kisses her again. His turn to make an abrupt break, this time to swing Hattie up into his arms and carry her off to that bed, to make short work of sliding that very lovely dress off of her and tossing his trousers pell mell off into a corner and make sure that neither of them is going to forget this night any time soon.
When: Past midnight, day 1, month 1, turn 25 of the 10th interval
Where: Hattie's Weyr, Fort Weyr
What: After a long night of obligation and celebration, Hattie comes home to find Paddy sacked out on her couch. When he wakes up, he has a turnover gift for her.
It's very very late, or early, depending on which way you look at it at Ista, which could explain why P'draig's actually asleep on the couch here in Hattie's weyr. It's likely he retreated from Fort's festivities some time ago to take a little break and didn't mean to conk out, but there he is all sprawled out with one arm folded behind his head, one leg slumped off the side of the couch and snoring lightly. Happy turnover?
Asleep on the couch has to be one better than asleep on your feet, which Hattie looks to be getting towards given the not too steady nature of her footsteps and the fact that she simply goes throwing things such as her shawl and one hairpin after another to the floor in an uneven trail as she finally gets home and wanders through her weyr. The Weyrwoman slows to a halt as she discovers P'draig on her couch, simply watches him for a moment or two, then reaches to unceremoniously yank her boots off and hops up onto the arm of the couch, peering down at the brownrider. "What are we going to do with you?" she murmurs, not necessarily loud enough to wake him.
It could be long-ingrained habits from being a weyrlingmaster for so many turns, or being a father of young children, but Paddy stirs at the sound of that murmur and the snoring stutters to a halt. His eyes open after a moment, one hand sweeping upward across his face and he tilts his head up, focusing on Hattie slowly. The brownrider's face splits into a goofy, fond sort of grin and he reaches up to slide his arm at a somewhat awkward angle around her. "Hi ..."
It's a weary, somewhat silly (for Hattie) smile that P'draig receives in return, though as he reaches to slide an arm around her, she shifts, meaning to find her feet again, telling him rather bluntly to, "Budge up," before she goes to fold herself down into whatever space becomes available. "I got stuck talking to an incredibly dull Harper," she explains. "If you think I'm oddly organized, you should meet him. Nobody needs to know his plans for the next ten turns in that much detail. Especially not on turnover."
"Huh, sounds like my brother," P'draig quips as he gives the goldrider a little squeeze, then lets go as she shifts. The brownrider masks a yawn, one-handed, then slides to the side a little, arm held out to welcome Hattie to his side. "Sorry you got stuck with the not-fun-guy. Give me a minute and I can try to make up for it by being the fun guy?"
Pausing only to sort out her skirts, Hattie just curls up right up against P'draig, eyes closing for a little while. "It's all right. Part of the job. You only really get to have proper fun when everyone else isn't meant to be enjoying themselves on your watch," she says quietly. Another smile gets hidden against his shoulder, soft laughter escaping her. "You're going to be the fun guy, huh? Sound like the semi-conscious guy to me," she teases.
"Mm. I know. Still can feel sympathetic about it. Empathize too. Weyrlingmasters don't usually get to have fun after hatchings either," he says with a low chuckle and turns his head to brush a kiss to her temple. "Well, see, I'll grant I'm not much fun when I'm asleep, unless you like the sound of snoring. But I'm awake now ... and even semi-conscious, I'm told I have a very active imagination," he deadpans, hand running lightly up along the edge of Hattie's arm invitingly. "I'd love to distract you for a little while ... though I do have something for you, before we get too distracted to pay attention to much else."
"I don't know... Finding different ways to wake you up can be a considerable amount of fun," Hattie murmurs, reaching to once again stop her skirts from tumbling over the edge of the couch. "And, to be honest, I think even in sleep your imagination must be very active," she deadpans, tipping her head back a little to press a kiss to his neck. "Go on then. I think you'd better distract me with something else before we get too distracted with other things."
"Pretty skirts," P'draig notes a little absently as his eyes slide closed again in reaction to the touch of lips to neck. A quiet murmur of enjoyment passes his lips. "I'm very distractible," he confesses, then clears his throat a couple of times and sits up a little so he can reach for the jacket he abandoned on the floor just shy of the couch. From the inner pocket, he draws out a small, wrapped package and offers it to Hattie. "I'd meant this ... well I'd meant it to mean something different when I started making it. But now, given how things've changed, I'd like to offer this as a symbol of how I feel about you. What we've committed to," Paddy says quietly.
"Shame you didn't get to see an awful lot of them until now," Hattie says dryly, voice still held low. She moves a little when P'draig does, shifting to lean back against the armrest a bit and make accepting and starting to unwrap the offered package a more elegant affair than it might have been. As she unwraps it, her gaze lifts to focus back on the brownrider for a few moments, head turning to brush her lips to his cheek this time. "And now you're sounding terribly eloquent this evening," she tells him gently, though she pauses to amend, "Morning."
Paddy's gaze shifts back to those skirts briefly, but lifts up to Hattie's face as she takes the package and starts to unwrap it. He smiles when her lips brush his cheek and his arm slides around her shoulder. "I can be when I have a mind to be," the brownrider answers simply, laughs a bit at that amendment. "Definitely morning at Ista." He turns slightly, so he's quasi-facing the goldrider. "Happy turnover, Hattie," the brownrider says softly, though his tone carries deep affection, belying the simplicity of that wish. Inside the package is a seemingly simple medallion of wood, most of the center carved out so that it's a ring encircling the curved shape of three cat-tail headed reeds, bending in the wind. An angled S-curved implies water flowing from one side of the circle and around the base of the reeds. The edges of the wood have been dipped in gold to ward against wear and tear. On the back, carved along the upper curve of the circle are their two names, while below is this turnover's date.
Fingers trace lightly over reeds and water to gradually make their way around the whole outer ring before Hattie carefully turns the medallion over and traces almost exactly the same pattern as she did only a second or two ago. She's quiet the whole time and, when fingers have completed their journey, turns it over a second time. Instead of reaching for P'draig or trying to hide behind something of a distracting nature, she tilts her head a little and casts her gaze up again, seeking his. She takes another breath and is still silent for that moment until she manages to say very steadily for all its quiet, "I love you." Even then she doesn't look away or try to find something else to say to quickly move on from the words she rarely finds herself able to utter at all.
P'draig remains silent while Hattie explores the contours of the piece, his gaze meeting hers steadily when her eyes lift to his. When she speaks, he smiles again and his hand lifts to her cheek, curves there gently. "I love you too," the brownrider answers and waits a moment longer before tilting his head to offer a kiss that's intended to be sweet, rather than distracting. When he draws back: "There's a chain for the loop there, it's probably caught in the fold ... would you like me to put it on you?"
Even after she's drawn back a little way from that kiss, Hattie's gaze remains fixed on the brownrider for a few moments, as though conducting some sort of quiet, if entirely obvious, study. She nods several times in response to his question, maintaining her silence for a while longer, fingers curling and uncurling carefully around the medallion resting on her palm.
Without making a fuss about it, Paddy reaches into the wrapping to extricate the fine golden chain and then gently threads it through the loop intended for that purpose. Once done, he lifts the medallion out of Hattie's palm, shifts to brush her hair out of the way and drapes the jewelry around her neck, fumbles with the clasp on the chain for a moment or two. Finally, it catches and he arranges it carefully so it doesn't snag in her hair. Drawing back a little, he subjects her to some scrutiny of his own, gaze ... full. A few seconds later, whatever willpower was restraining him crumbles and he reaches to pull Hattie into his arms tightly. "I'll never leave you," he murmurs lowly, but with an intensity that lends strength to the words: he really, really means it.
Hattie remains still as the chain is dealt with and jewellery arranged, save for the span of a breath when she lifts to pull the last of the pins from her hair and restore her to more or less herself rather than the more formal Weyrwoman mode. Her arms go just as tightly around P'draig when he reaches for her and /still/ she's silent as she burrows in close in such a way that few to none would expect her to be capable of. Despite the strength behind his words, something makes her ask, "...Really?" in a voice that doesn't sound like her at all, like she needs to hear it again rather than doubts him.
P'draig's fingers curl into the fabric at the back of Hattie's dress. "Never," he repeats, voice a bit rougher this time. "What's not Jekzith's, body, mind and heart, I'm yours," Paddy promises with deep conviction and holds the goldrider close for some time longer, though his grip relaxes somewhat to something more comfortable after a few minutes.
Deep, measured breaths likely let on attempts to slow a racing heart, Hattie's grip taking that bit longer to relax, tension slowly, slowly draining from her along with the strength in her even with her relatively small frame. There's nothing beyond that eventual relaxation to acknowledge that she's listened and understood, her eyes closing as she keeps tucked close with her face hidden against his neck, breaths beginning to even out again.
Be it the benefit of age and experience or just knowing Hattie very well by now, Paddy understands well enough to leave the moment alone and just continues to hold her until she's relaxed and beyond. The fire pops and crackles during that interval and his head lifts when a particularly bright shower of sparks illuminates the room briefly. Drawing back slightly, his hand lifts to trace the contour of her cheek once more and without saying anything further, he tilts his head to kiss his mate, with slow-building fervor that's likely to lead to the distraction they both mentioned before but have been distracted from distracting each other with.
Before she can get too caught-up and too involved to think of anything but pressing close to P'draig as that kiss slowly deepens and goes on, Hattie draws back a little to murmur, "Bed," somewhat breathlessly, one hand going to tug at the indigo laces of her dress. Leaning back into him, she kisses him again, starting right where she left off, only to draw away more suddenly this time and hold out hands his way as she starts to abandon the couch, bare feet touching down on the cool floor. "Bed," she says again, more inviting than insistent, enough laces undone to make her dress start slipping at one shoulder.
Breathless, Paddy makes a low murmur of protest that promptly gets cut off by Hattie's return. This time there's heat enough to burn with in that kiss, even if it's ended all the more abruptly. "Shells ..." Paddy breathes out, gaze focused intently on Hattie's face. That focus shifts as she draws away and her skirts go cascading off the couch, swirl around her ankles and laces loosen enough to expose skin. She doesn't have to repeat that invitation a third time. The brownrider pushes to his feet in a swift, smooth motion and kicks off his shoes. Already loosened at the collar earlier, he shimmies out of his shirt, pulling it off over his head. Then he takes Hattie's hands, pulls her against him and lifts one hand to trace along the line of that slipped sleeve right before he kisses her again. His turn to make an abrupt break, this time to swing Hattie up into his arms and carry her off to that bed, to make short work of sliding that very lovely dress off of her and tossing his trousers pell mell off into a corner and make sure that neither of them is going to forget this night any time soon.