I'm staying.
Another monstrous log that has been split into parts.
Reyce returns from Benden, but his welcome back is full of blips. There's a small fight, a big revelation, some sex, a few presents, and a short discussion of other pregnancies.
Day 18, Month 7, Turn 3 (Reyce, Issa):
Issa's Weyr
Sumptuous warmth counters the bitter cold of a High Reaches winter, delicious browns and flushed bronzes cloaking the drab stone of the walls. Rich russet curtains cover the arched entrance from the ledge, either hanging heavily to keep out the cold or pulled back with a strong rope. Immediately to the right from the ledge, is a hearth, surrounded by a small sitting area. As for seating, there's two choices: a long couch, worn to a faded rust color, placed at an angle with the hearth, and a chair, high-backed and upholstered in smooth copper. The rug beneath them is an intricate weaving of sand and sage, forming a tangle of vines that culminate in the center, where a large wooden chest conceals the most convoluted loops.
The hearth itself is a meager one, tiny in the large stone wall, dominated by the tall tapestry that hangs above it. On the tapestry, a light green, rather disproportioned shape that resembles a dragon sinuously flames at nothing in particular, locked in by a scrolling knot pattern around the edges.
The entirety of the wall opposite the hearth is taken up by the dragon couch, with flattened furs and riding straps strewn across it, infringing on the center space of the already cramped and cozy weyr.
The last splash of color comes from a curtain concealing the deeper alcove, mirroring the larger curtains across the entrance in color and position. Through it, a glimpse of a tall bed can be seen, covered in a pile of disheveled furs and pillows dyed to a deep mahogany.
A blue dragon winks out of between in the early morning of the eighteenth, circling high above the bowl while he answers the watchdragon's challenge. Permitted to land, the blue cants into a sharp angle downwards, coming to a quick but neat landing outside the Caucus barracks. His two passengers dismount immediately, the rider going to fetch down the luggage that he has strapped to his dragon while the Bendenite he transports waits just a few steps back and out of the way. As soon as the bag's handed off, said Bendenite retreats out of the way of the dragon's wings when he takes off. Rather than go back into the barracks where the rider left him, Reyce waits out in the bowl with his chin tilted up, scanning the sky for a particular green form, hopefully less glowing than he left it. His bag looks more full than it started out and he looks nothing short of exhausted.
Early though it is, Issa's been up and working since earlier, and it's from the direction of the weyrling training cavern that the bright (but not too bright) little green flies, shallow and slow toward the waiting Bendenite. Though they must have been in contact with the watchdragon on this appointed morning, Reyce has had to wait a good quarter of an hour by the time Oshisyth's talons touch down to the ground a little ways away. Issa smiles at him from her seat in the straps, a pleasant expression though it seems a trifle empty. Her hair is drawn back in a short braid, though tendrils sneak free around her face, and the sweat that marks her forehead attests to the set of drills she ran with the weyrlings in the hours before he arrived. But if she hasn't gotten the entire morning off, it seems she has time for him now at least, for she dismounts leisurely, waiting until she's grounded again to turn to him with a greeting. "Hi," she says simply. There's no running, no jumping, no kissing. With a jerk of her head she motions him over, stepping up to wait by the fastenings that will hold his bag for the short trip up. "Welcome back," she adds, that smile still in place, her voice light and insignificant. It was only six days, after all. "You look tired."
Reyce spends that quarter of an hour brooding silently over the sky, occasionally pacing a few steps as though a small change of location could bring the awaited green magically into his line of sight. His bag has long since been dropped to the ground, left in a heap which he skirts but ignores as his pacing takes him past it again and again. He does not expect to see Issa coming from the weyrling training cavern, though perhaps by this point he should have learned this is a possibility given her new job, and it isn't until he recognizes the sound of wingbeats coming towards him that he turns, caught in the middle of a pace, and lifts his posture while he waits for Oshisyth to arrive. The shadows under his eyes grow deeper, however, when Issa makes that leisurely dismount and greets him in that restrained manner: he lets his chin drop back down and his eyes cast sideways. He misses the gesture at his bag, but he knows the routine when it comes to luggage anyway, and steps forward to attach the bag by himself. "Hey," is the only return he gives for her comments, his dulled attention focused on the straps. He fumbles at the clasps but manages to get them fixed, stepping back with the quick touch of his palm that has become his custom when Oshisyth gets stuck carrying something for him. Once out of the way, however, he waits with his hands in his pockets, his eyes sinking tiredly to the ground.
Oshisyth has turned her head back to watch the progress with the bag and gives a quick, sighed croon, much warmer than her rider's demeanor for sure, in response to the flat and fleeting touch her gives her. Issa touches him at last once the bag's secure, but it's a casual hand at his elbow, patted down briefly in a way that's far from the sliding, suggestive caresses that are her usual. "Come on," she urges, "up you go. I have off until a couple of hours before dinner, but I've got a stack of hidework to flip through in the meantime." Already beginning her climb, she nods to said stack, tucked in near her seat, though all that's visible is an entirely blank cover page. So much for plans of a romantic morning of leisure, it seems.
The touch startles him, and Reyce's muscles tense, suddenly awake, when he becomes aware of Issa's hand on his elbow. He shakes it off, though - literally giving himself a shake - and climbs up after her as directed, dipping his thumbs under the straps to hold himself in place once he's mounted on the green. Last to get up, he is the first to get down when the green takes them to her ledge, and as soon as his feet hits the floor he turns towards the inner weyr. He has forgotten, of course, his bag, and gets no further than three steps before this occurs to him and he gives a faint, dissatisfied snort. He doubles back to Oshisyth's side to collect the bag, all the while shying clear of Issa's dismount.
Issa hops down, hides in hand, and moves to brush a streak of dust from her pants, a furtive glance spared while she does so for Reyce's face as he frees his bag. But she doesn't interfere. At least not yet. She jerks the covering curtain open just wide enough for a person to pass, then drops her hides off on the trunk in the middle of the seating area. For all her professed work, however, she doesn't seem too diligent, immediately walking back to wait at the wall just to the right of the curtain. She waits for him to walk through before her hand reaches out to grab at his jacket and reorient him to face her, her smile swept up into a smaller but more genuine curve, full of an (almost) apologetic impishness. "I think," she says slowly at first and much more feeling, though her volume has dropped. Gently, she reaches up to guide the strap of his bag off of his shoulder, letting it fall to the ground before her other hand will join the first in gripping at the front of his jacket. "That I forgot to tell you how glad I am you're home." Her eyes skip swiftly, once, over his face, then she draws him down for the makings of a heavily tongued kiss.
The sudden grab once again takes Reyce by surprise, and his first response is to pull against, though his weight gets no further than a simple lean before he realizes her purpose. His eyes drop down to her smile, fixing there and allowing her to do whatever she wants with his bag, roll it off his shoulder, drop it to the floor, whatever. It lands with a heavy thud that seems to jar him out of his reverie, and he jerks his head with a sudden snort, nostrils remaining flared as he looks at her. He's fully awake now, whatever earlier indications may have been, and watching carefully until she goes in for that kiss. There he jerks back, lifting his mouth abruptly out of her range, and stares down at her from a heavily raised angle. "You shouldn't have," he tells her sharply, dragging himself away from the hold she has on his jacket. As he does, he's already bending down to retrieve his bag from the floor.
Issa sinks into the wall again when he pulls away, smile fading steadily as her blue eyes watch him carefully, letting a slow and regret-filled breath fall from her lips. "I am," she ventures, all shades and hints in her tone done away with in favor of frank, vulnerable honesty that leaves her voice heavy and quiet. "Glad you're back." Hesitantly penitent, her gaze drops to her hands as she picks idly at a hangnail on her thumb, a paused beat spent there before she lifts her eyes again. "I missed you," she states simply; though she may chase him with her eyes, her voice never lifts from that same quiet level.
"Missed you," he answers, but it is not the gentle, warmth-filled response it could be. This is because it's spoken as he walks away, and spoken briskly at that. He sweeps aside the curtain to the bedroom, giving his bag a careless toss that sends it skidding audibly across the floor. It hasn't even thunked into the wall before he's turning, taking a few steps towards the couch before he checks himself and moves at a sudden angle towards the wall where she stands. The heel of his palm knocks into the wall above her shoulder and he leans forward, his face now on a level with her own as he stares at her closely, eyes flicking back and forth across her features. They settle on her eyes when he speaks again, however. "Missed you, needed you, wanted you with me, I come back and you're brushing me off. You're pissed at me leaving and you're pissed at me coming back, the fuck you think I needed that?" He manages to hold in place for a second more, attempting to keep up the eye contact, but he breaks away with a sudden spin and goes to his crates of beer stacked against the wall, yanking one out and cracking the cap off on the edge of the case.
Issa's eyes widen as he slams into position in front of her, brows tugging on the brink of a worried frown, but she meets his gaze steadily. Until he demands an answer from her, then they drop away sharply, lids falling to conceal her downward gaze. Even when he steps away, she stands there staring at the floor for a good long moment. "I'm not pissed at you," her voice comes at last, barely discernible from the quiet that preceded it. Her lashes lift and her eyes skip past him before moving on to the rest of the weyr. "You just left like it..." she attempts, voice gaining strength, but then stops and redirects her effort. "And I missed you," she stresses more emotionally this time, then echoing his own sentiment with a quieter, "needed you." Her gaze tracks back to him, but only briefly before she rolls her shoulders off of the wall and turns away from him, toward the ledge, as if to find Oshisyth though the green has long since disappeared with a quick beating of wings. "It scared me, okay?" she utters in a rushed, quiet and almost angry mutter as she turns, arms crossing once she has herself situated at the very edge of the entrance and looking out.
Reyce tilts back his beer bottle and chugs from it immediately, but his eyes dodge around it to find her face when she starts speaking. He pauses for a moment when she lets that sentence trail off, the lip of the bottle held against his own lips while his brow furrows at her, his eyes squinted up. More beer gets tossed back when she stops, however, his adam's apple bobbing visibly with every swallow. It slows as she continues, the loud sound of his drinking dulled into smaller gulps, which eventually fade away entirely, after she's turned. He moves towards her after a beat, the beer bottle still clutched in his hand, and comes up to the place on the wall she just vacated. Leaning his shoulder against it, he lifts his gaze over her shoulder, watching the empty sky. "The fuck it scare you?" Although watching the sky, his attention remains close enough to her to return if she looks back at him, but in the meantime he just takes a quick sip from his beer and hangs onto it.
A glimpse of that same faint frown can be caught as Issa tosses back half a glance at him settling along the wall behind her, though her eyes never come close to meeting his. Her head shakes lightly, curls shivering with the motion, and if he places her mannerisms correctly he'll know that she's probably rolling her eyes for that question she doesn't want to answer. She does, in the end, but not before a long pause where it seems like she won't, and her tone when she does is dull, flat. "Because you left like it wasn't anything, just six days, didn't matter. Because I realized I'd miss you more when it isn't just six days." There's the vague sound of rote to it all, but he's certainly never heard it before; it must have been in her head those nights here alone that it got so much repetition.
Reyce draws in a deep, quick breath, his eyes dropping abruptly from the sky down to his bottle. Though only just opened, it's already near empty due to all the chugging he did just minutes ago. He does another chug now, finishing it, then lets out a silent, alcohol-laden breath behind his hand while he watches her again. "Know what you mean," he answers, shifting his shoulder restlessly against the wall. "Used to think on that, days you had Fall or something. Just days. Day after that want to fuck you, be with you, much as I can." He pauses and drops his eyes to the beer bottle, clearing his throat to let her know he's not done speaking yet, though it takes him a second before he attempts it again. "Get what we can, yeah? Before I go; but, Issa, I don't even know, I mean, you don't have to do that. 'H -" Whatever the word was about to become, he stops it before it becomes more than a breath. He grips the neck of the beer bottle in both hands, then draws his eyes up to hers with a sniff. "I talked to my father," he says.
Issa finally tears her eyes away from the bustle of dragon wings seen across the bowl and rocks back into place on the stone wall, both of her shoulders falling flat against it as he questions her. Her frown has quieted to a much more vague sort of tension by then, but eye contact is still elusive and she spends the majority of the time he takes staring down at the edge of the rug where it runs at an angle with the back of the couch. But his ending comment sparks enough idle surprise to draw her gaze up to find him, her face turned his way only slightly. "About what?" she questions quietly, more curious than suspicious by far, though both motives color her tone.
Reyce purses his cheeks into his mouth, lifting the beer bottle to gesture with it in a vague circle before he drops it to his side, ignoring the light whack it deals to his knee. "Staying," he spits out, there being only the one way to say it. He breathes out heavily, shifting his angle harder into the wall and leaning his weight against it. "I'm staying." When the side of his face tips against the cool stone he closes his eyes for a moment, but in the next he forces them open again so he can stare at Issa, his mouth settled - with an effort - into neutrality.
Issa blinks. As if the meaning of that simple word escapes her for a second. And then she does it again as she catches on, her gaze drifting from him to land, unfocused, on the other wall straight ahead. Her mouth falls open, just slack at first, but then there's the sense that it might, somehow, form a word or two in the near future. A breath puffs out of her, shoulders slumping down as it leaves, and then her voice comes tumbling out with an emotional quiver. "Fuck, Reyce, I'm horrible. Why would you..." The last is muffled, as she pivots and sways into him, hiding her face against that shoulder he has pressed against the wall. Her arms drop free from their crossed confines as she does, hands finding the edge of his jacket and curling onto it, though her attentions go no further than that at the moment.
Reyce takes her into his arms as though it were not refuge she sought but comfort, wrapping her up in a crushing hold that could almost squeeze the worries out of her as well as her breath. "I'm staying," he says again, almost stubbornly, and one of his hands falls quickly to her waist, drawing her tightly against him and making it impossible for her to hang on to his jacket. "Been thinking about it; I decided. My whole life it's been Benden, I even come here and it's still Benden, and I've got maybe my whole life to spend there. Need to step back, it's not just you, /I/ need to step back. Go where I'm best at." He shifts the beer bottle in his grip, lining it up along the curve of her spine. He holds her there, flattened against him, as he falls silent and waits on her answer.
Issa blinks. As if the meaning of that simple word escapes her for a second. And then she does it again as she catches on, her gaze drifting from him to land, unfocused, on the other wall straight ahead. Her mouth falls open, just slack at first, but then there's the sense that it might, somehow, form a word or two in the near future. A breath puffs out of her, shoulders slumping down as it leaves, and then her voice comes tumbling out with an emotional quiver. "Fuck, Reyce, I'm horrible. Why would you..." The last is muffled, as she pivots and sways into him, hiding her face against that shoulder he has pressed against the wall. Her arms drop free from their crossed confines as she does, hands finding the edge of his jacket and curling onto it, though her attentions go no further than that at the moment.
Reyce takes her into his arms as though it were not refuge she sought but comfort, wrapping her up in a crushing hold that could almost squeeze the worries out of her as well as her breath. "I'm staying," he says again, almost stubbornly, and one of his hands falls quickly to her waist, drawing her tightly against him and making it impossible for her to hang on to his jacket. "Been thinking about it; I decided. My whole life it's been Benden, I even come here and it's still Benden, and I've got maybe my whole life to spend there. Need to step back, it's not just you, /I/ need to step back. Go where I'm best at." He shifts the beer bottle in his grip, lining it up along the curve of her spine. He holds her there, flattened against him, as he falls silent and waits on her answer.
Issa's hands fall flat against his chest as she's crushed against him, elbows tightly bent, but a second later she drags them around, under his jacket, to his back where they press in with a desperate clutching at his shirt. Her head, turned to the side along his shoulder, lifts a few seconds after he stops speaking and she pulls back just enough in his squeezing embrace to see his face. "You're still going to try for Benden, yeah?" she inquires softly, eyes squinting slightly with confusion as to what exactly this staying situation means.
His muscles tighten underneath her hands and he lifts his face, turning to look out the narrow opening still left in the curtain. His nostrils widen, but if he's breathing he is doing it silently. "No," he says, his gaze suddenly returning to her. In the space of a few seconds, he has withdrawn from her, though he still has her wrapped up in his arms - less tightly. "Not 'trying' for anything right now, said I need a break from Benden so I'm taking one, doesn't mean shit if I say that and I'm still thinking like I'll be there." Noticing the beer bottle in his hand, suddenly, he gives it a shake as he steps back from her, lifting his arms off her and transferring the bottle to his other hand, his head already turned away as he scans for a place to leave it.
Issa's grasp loosens as soon as he shows signs of extricating himself, drawing back when his embrace pulls away though her fingertips linger just a second longer along his hips before leaving entirely. Concern tensing further in her expression, she looks down to her feet, allowing him to retreat and find a resting spot for that empty bottle. A moment later, she speaks up again, her voice tentative, gentle. "Reyce." Her chin lifts again, bringing with it her gaze. "If you're doing this because... of the baby..." Her voice cuts off suddenly with a swallow and her head shakes faintly. "Don't."
Reyce has opted to set his empty bottle on the floor by the crate he took it from, taking himself across the room and staying there when she speaks. He takes advantage of the wall again, this time turning his shoulders fully back against it as he faces Issa, his boot raising to prop him on the edge of the beer crate. His lips drawn down at the corners, but he holds silent while she tries to speak. "Think I don't know what I'm doing," he answers softly, digging the side of his boot into the crate and making it scrape across the floor towards him. "Know what I'm doing, know it better than you, so don't tell me I'm doing wrong. Done with that." He draws his body into a curl, shoulders tilted down towards the floor and knee still drawn up on top of the crate. He makes it shift again, more sharply this time, sending a crack of noise across the room.
"Sorry," Issa mutters, her eyes darting to the wall beside her then tracing over the stone all the way to the ground. Her boot lifts and taps sideways into the wall she watched a second ago, marking time for the pause she takes before she repeats, "Reyce, I'm sorry," more emphatically. She steps across the distance and curls her fingers around the bend of his elbow, drawing him to her. "I'm really... really," she stresses as she does, letting a wry breath puff acknowledgement for the obviousness of the statement, "happy." Her smile even spreads slowly again, though it's brief, dimming again with a shake of her head. "I just don't want you to regret something because of me," she adds, quieter still, leaving the subject of the baby alone for now.
Reyce remains where he stands as she walks across the room, though his cheeks puff with a heavy breath when she apologizes. His eyes lift when she gets near to him, flicking back and forth across her face before settling, when she touches his elbow, on hers. "Don't," he suggests, stepping into her. His hands go in opposite directions, one sliding all the way down to the top of her thigh and the other going to tilt her face up to his own. "Tell you something." But whatever it is he's already distracting her from it, squeezing her lower body against him and gently stealing a kiss from her mouth.
Issa lifts easily into that kiss, one hand falling to the side of his face, though when he pulls away she doesn't press for any more. Instead she simply breathes a settling sigh and drops back to her heels, murmuring an assenting, "Okay." Her hand drifts down to his, pressing briefly to reaffirm the hold on her thigh before rubbing a caress up his forearm.
Reyce's other hand follows the first, sliding down just below her ass and giving a pull that knocks her off balance, leaving her nothing to do but be caught by his arms. He gives a small grunt as he heaves her up, his shoulders tilting back against the wall once more while he shifts her up comfortably over his waist and gets a better hold on her body. "Always wanted to fuck you," he says, "out on the ledge." He heaves his shoulders backwards, pushing off from the wall, and begins to walk her towards the ledge, catching her mouth if he can for another, longer kiss.
Issa brings her hands up to the tops of his shoulders, helping him heft her up along with the tightening of her thighs at his waist. By the time he leans forward to catch her in a kiss, she's had the same idea and is leaning forward to meet it forcefully, her arms tossed tightly around his neck. "Oh, Reyce," she murmurs on breaking, pressing her nose into his cheek as she heaves once, breathlessly, "I love you." Apparently that's her assent, because she simply squeezes him in her embrace after it and sinks into another kiss that lasts them all the way past the curtain and out into the cloud-dotted sunlight of the morning. The calls of drills echo from the opposite side of the ball, but the bustle nearer to them is restricted to the occasional dragon winging up to sun on one of the higher ledges for a moment of leisure.
One hopes those dragons don't look down too much. If they did, they would see Reyce hastily dropping to his knee once he gets outside, depositing Issa on her back and giving a quick tug at her pants, drawing her attention there but leaving the rest to her as he goes for his own. He has, as usual, work enough of his own there, and by the time she gets her pants off - and she can expect a knock on her knee if she doesn't seem to be doing this - he's only just got the fastenings down. There's no pause for reflection, though, as he simply crawls on top of her and begins with a shove, reaching down to grab one of her legs and forcefully wrap it around him. His mouth finds hers in a hot, moist grab, lips closing over her entire mouth and dragging off only to grab at her again, and again, in time with the thrusts that rub her back against the hard stone of the ledge, bruising her shoulders over an old gash left by some dragon's claw long ago. Six days of no Issa rush up and through him and out in heavy grunted shoves that sound straight into her mouth and shake beads of sweat off onto her cheek. He hangs onto her mouth all the way till he finishes, his lips slipping free with a hard groan as he cups his shoulders above her. He remains that way for a long moment, eyes squeezed shut and muscles frozen, before he rolls off her with a weaker groan and reaches down to find how far his pants have fallen so he can pull them back up. Not before he groans again, however, her name this time worked into his breathing.
No need for urging, Issa begins to fight with her pants even before he retreats to take care of his own. Her boots must be kicked off, but once that's done the process is fairly quick and she leaves both pants and underwear in a rumpled heap to one side. The leg he tosses over him is swiftly joined by the second as she uses them to leverage her hips up to meet his, shoving her shoulders even harder onto the bump-riddled stone with a short grunt. His heavy grunts are met by her own muffled moans hummed onto his lips. She keeps her hand in his hair throughout, curled into a hard fist until she comes and it flattens over the entire back of his head. Even that slips away, then, trembling, as things quiet, that hand brought in to slide from her forehead and down the front of her torso before being swung wide again, landing with a light bump on his chest, knuckles down and fingers languidly curled up. "Mmm," she sighs, his praise, before dragging herself into a sitting position, shoulders stretching achingly, to retrieve the underwear that was tossed aside. Weakly they're tugged up to cover her again, back set to stone again as she lifts her hips and stomach-- maybe it's just the absence of six days, but the small bulge there seems to have gone from faint to definite on her thin frame in such a short time-- into the air to finish the job. That done, she moves up to crawl over to him, legs tossed over him in a lazy straddle as she uses him as a cushion this time. Arms tucked close against his sides, she plants her chin firmly in the middle of his chest and stares down at him with contentedly drooping eyes, her now-mussed braid draped over one shoulder.
If he notices the change, Reyce must be doing his best to ignore it, for his eyes drink in the arch of her body as she yanks those underpants back on without pausing more than a second on her stomach. His attention trakcs up to her face when she rolls over him, a hand following to cup her cheekbone and press back into her hair, his fingers bumping down the braid (and probably mussing it further) when he reaches it. "Like that," he comments, giving the tail a small shake and letting it drop back to her shoulder. His hand does the same, but travels to the other shoulder and gives her body a small rock before letting her settle. Meanwhile, his eyes have begun roving over her face, drinking in every one of /those/ details.
A small smile tilts up for his comment and Issa responds, her voice rich with relaxation, "I thought you might. It's finally long enough." She nuzzles down then for a lazy bit of silence, nose and mouth pressed into the front of the shirt while she breathes in slow and blinks even slower. "Come on," she finally says, words muffled warmly into his chest before she pushes up and drags him with insistent fingertips into a sitting position with her. He's rewarded with a soft, lingering kiss should he follow, her hand pulling through his hair and down onto his jaw. "Let's move to the bed," she continues softly. "You can tell me what happened in Benden. I can get naked. Or put something on, if you want." She puts her face right up next to his again and leans her forehead up against his, eyes dancing as they meet his, their noses bumping lightly. "I can give you your presents." An amused breath for the plural she uses snorts out of her nose and onto his face, her lips spreading into a slightly wider smile.
In the silence, after the sex, the exhaustion that dogged his return this morning returns, and it doesn't take a second before his eyes drift closed and he nearly falls asleep out on the sunny ledge. Her words warn him, however, and he struggles out of sleep with a few blinks even as she pulls him upright, not quite managing to muffle the yawn that comes out of him before her kiss lands. /That/ wakes him up, at least, perhaps more than is helpful as he continues to lean after that kiss when it retreats, seeming almost disappointed that more words (not more kisses) follow. But he settles his expression, watching her levelly save for the blink it takes him to refocus when she moves her face in. "Can do all those things," he confirms, eyelids lowering into a small, amused squint after he says it. He gives her hip a nudge with his hand, though: they'll need to get up if they're to do any of them.
Reyce takes her hand when it's offered to him, but he still uses his own, free hand to push most of his weight, and Issa's arm need only deal with a slight pull as he lifts to join her. His fingers remain closed over her wrist for the duration of that squeeze, but he lets her trail away when she goes to recover her pants and boots, opting instead to simply watch her, his eyes tracing the lines of her near leg. When it starts moving away, he moves with it, slipping through the curtain without any more than stirring it. Her sudden reversal takes him by mild surprise and he grunts when her arms go back around him, though his are pleased enough to follow suit and swing low over her hips. Despite persistent darkness underneath his eyes, his reaction to the suggested sleep time is a clear negative, his expression simply tightened up with distaste. Those hides, though, remain to be done at some point, and his negativity fades reluctantly while he considers this. "Need sleep," he admits, swing her hips around him so it's her with her back to the weyr outside. "Wake me up." He gives her a gentle push back towards the curtain, giving her ass a light slap to send her on her way, then turns to haul his clothes off, toss them in his corner, and climb naked as ever into the bed, where sleep hastily claims him.
((Part 2))
Reyce returns from Benden, but his welcome back is full of blips. There's a small fight, a big revelation, some sex, a few presents, and a short discussion of other pregnancies.
Day 18, Month 7, Turn 3 (Reyce, Issa):
Issa's Weyr
Sumptuous warmth counters the bitter cold of a High Reaches winter, delicious browns and flushed bronzes cloaking the drab stone of the walls. Rich russet curtains cover the arched entrance from the ledge, either hanging heavily to keep out the cold or pulled back with a strong rope. Immediately to the right from the ledge, is a hearth, surrounded by a small sitting area. As for seating, there's two choices: a long couch, worn to a faded rust color, placed at an angle with the hearth, and a chair, high-backed and upholstered in smooth copper. The rug beneath them is an intricate weaving of sand and sage, forming a tangle of vines that culminate in the center, where a large wooden chest conceals the most convoluted loops.
The hearth itself is a meager one, tiny in the large stone wall, dominated by the tall tapestry that hangs above it. On the tapestry, a light green, rather disproportioned shape that resembles a dragon sinuously flames at nothing in particular, locked in by a scrolling knot pattern around the edges.
The entirety of the wall opposite the hearth is taken up by the dragon couch, with flattened furs and riding straps strewn across it, infringing on the center space of the already cramped and cozy weyr.
The last splash of color comes from a curtain concealing the deeper alcove, mirroring the larger curtains across the entrance in color and position. Through it, a glimpse of a tall bed can be seen, covered in a pile of disheveled furs and pillows dyed to a deep mahogany.
A blue dragon winks out of between in the early morning of the eighteenth, circling high above the bowl while he answers the watchdragon's challenge. Permitted to land, the blue cants into a sharp angle downwards, coming to a quick but neat landing outside the Caucus barracks. His two passengers dismount immediately, the rider going to fetch down the luggage that he has strapped to his dragon while the Bendenite he transports waits just a few steps back and out of the way. As soon as the bag's handed off, said Bendenite retreats out of the way of the dragon's wings when he takes off. Rather than go back into the barracks where the rider left him, Reyce waits out in the bowl with his chin tilted up, scanning the sky for a particular green form, hopefully less glowing than he left it. His bag looks more full than it started out and he looks nothing short of exhausted.
Early though it is, Issa's been up and working since earlier, and it's from the direction of the weyrling training cavern that the bright (but not too bright) little green flies, shallow and slow toward the waiting Bendenite. Though they must have been in contact with the watchdragon on this appointed morning, Reyce has had to wait a good quarter of an hour by the time Oshisyth's talons touch down to the ground a little ways away. Issa smiles at him from her seat in the straps, a pleasant expression though it seems a trifle empty. Her hair is drawn back in a short braid, though tendrils sneak free around her face, and the sweat that marks her forehead attests to the set of drills she ran with the weyrlings in the hours before he arrived. But if she hasn't gotten the entire morning off, it seems she has time for him now at least, for she dismounts leisurely, waiting until she's grounded again to turn to him with a greeting. "Hi," she says simply. There's no running, no jumping, no kissing. With a jerk of her head she motions him over, stepping up to wait by the fastenings that will hold his bag for the short trip up. "Welcome back," she adds, that smile still in place, her voice light and insignificant. It was only six days, after all. "You look tired."
Reyce spends that quarter of an hour brooding silently over the sky, occasionally pacing a few steps as though a small change of location could bring the awaited green magically into his line of sight. His bag has long since been dropped to the ground, left in a heap which he skirts but ignores as his pacing takes him past it again and again. He does not expect to see Issa coming from the weyrling training cavern, though perhaps by this point he should have learned this is a possibility given her new job, and it isn't until he recognizes the sound of wingbeats coming towards him that he turns, caught in the middle of a pace, and lifts his posture while he waits for Oshisyth to arrive. The shadows under his eyes grow deeper, however, when Issa makes that leisurely dismount and greets him in that restrained manner: he lets his chin drop back down and his eyes cast sideways. He misses the gesture at his bag, but he knows the routine when it comes to luggage anyway, and steps forward to attach the bag by himself. "Hey," is the only return he gives for her comments, his dulled attention focused on the straps. He fumbles at the clasps but manages to get them fixed, stepping back with the quick touch of his palm that has become his custom when Oshisyth gets stuck carrying something for him. Once out of the way, however, he waits with his hands in his pockets, his eyes sinking tiredly to the ground.
Oshisyth has turned her head back to watch the progress with the bag and gives a quick, sighed croon, much warmer than her rider's demeanor for sure, in response to the flat and fleeting touch her gives her. Issa touches him at last once the bag's secure, but it's a casual hand at his elbow, patted down briefly in a way that's far from the sliding, suggestive caresses that are her usual. "Come on," she urges, "up you go. I have off until a couple of hours before dinner, but I've got a stack of hidework to flip through in the meantime." Already beginning her climb, she nods to said stack, tucked in near her seat, though all that's visible is an entirely blank cover page. So much for plans of a romantic morning of leisure, it seems.
The touch startles him, and Reyce's muscles tense, suddenly awake, when he becomes aware of Issa's hand on his elbow. He shakes it off, though - literally giving himself a shake - and climbs up after her as directed, dipping his thumbs under the straps to hold himself in place once he's mounted on the green. Last to get up, he is the first to get down when the green takes them to her ledge, and as soon as his feet hits the floor he turns towards the inner weyr. He has forgotten, of course, his bag, and gets no further than three steps before this occurs to him and he gives a faint, dissatisfied snort. He doubles back to Oshisyth's side to collect the bag, all the while shying clear of Issa's dismount.
Issa hops down, hides in hand, and moves to brush a streak of dust from her pants, a furtive glance spared while she does so for Reyce's face as he frees his bag. But she doesn't interfere. At least not yet. She jerks the covering curtain open just wide enough for a person to pass, then drops her hides off on the trunk in the middle of the seating area. For all her professed work, however, she doesn't seem too diligent, immediately walking back to wait at the wall just to the right of the curtain. She waits for him to walk through before her hand reaches out to grab at his jacket and reorient him to face her, her smile swept up into a smaller but more genuine curve, full of an (almost) apologetic impishness. "I think," she says slowly at first and much more feeling, though her volume has dropped. Gently, she reaches up to guide the strap of his bag off of his shoulder, letting it fall to the ground before her other hand will join the first in gripping at the front of his jacket. "That I forgot to tell you how glad I am you're home." Her eyes skip swiftly, once, over his face, then she draws him down for the makings of a heavily tongued kiss.
The sudden grab once again takes Reyce by surprise, and his first response is to pull against, though his weight gets no further than a simple lean before he realizes her purpose. His eyes drop down to her smile, fixing there and allowing her to do whatever she wants with his bag, roll it off his shoulder, drop it to the floor, whatever. It lands with a heavy thud that seems to jar him out of his reverie, and he jerks his head with a sudden snort, nostrils remaining flared as he looks at her. He's fully awake now, whatever earlier indications may have been, and watching carefully until she goes in for that kiss. There he jerks back, lifting his mouth abruptly out of her range, and stares down at her from a heavily raised angle. "You shouldn't have," he tells her sharply, dragging himself away from the hold she has on his jacket. As he does, he's already bending down to retrieve his bag from the floor.
Issa sinks into the wall again when he pulls away, smile fading steadily as her blue eyes watch him carefully, letting a slow and regret-filled breath fall from her lips. "I am," she ventures, all shades and hints in her tone done away with in favor of frank, vulnerable honesty that leaves her voice heavy and quiet. "Glad you're back." Hesitantly penitent, her gaze drops to her hands as she picks idly at a hangnail on her thumb, a paused beat spent there before she lifts her eyes again. "I missed you," she states simply; though she may chase him with her eyes, her voice never lifts from that same quiet level.
"Missed you," he answers, but it is not the gentle, warmth-filled response it could be. This is because it's spoken as he walks away, and spoken briskly at that. He sweeps aside the curtain to the bedroom, giving his bag a careless toss that sends it skidding audibly across the floor. It hasn't even thunked into the wall before he's turning, taking a few steps towards the couch before he checks himself and moves at a sudden angle towards the wall where she stands. The heel of his palm knocks into the wall above her shoulder and he leans forward, his face now on a level with her own as he stares at her closely, eyes flicking back and forth across her features. They settle on her eyes when he speaks again, however. "Missed you, needed you, wanted you with me, I come back and you're brushing me off. You're pissed at me leaving and you're pissed at me coming back, the fuck you think I needed that?" He manages to hold in place for a second more, attempting to keep up the eye contact, but he breaks away with a sudden spin and goes to his crates of beer stacked against the wall, yanking one out and cracking the cap off on the edge of the case.
Issa's eyes widen as he slams into position in front of her, brows tugging on the brink of a worried frown, but she meets his gaze steadily. Until he demands an answer from her, then they drop away sharply, lids falling to conceal her downward gaze. Even when he steps away, she stands there staring at the floor for a good long moment. "I'm not pissed at you," her voice comes at last, barely discernible from the quiet that preceded it. Her lashes lift and her eyes skip past him before moving on to the rest of the weyr. "You just left like it..." she attempts, voice gaining strength, but then stops and redirects her effort. "And I missed you," she stresses more emotionally this time, then echoing his own sentiment with a quieter, "needed you." Her gaze tracks back to him, but only briefly before she rolls her shoulders off of the wall and turns away from him, toward the ledge, as if to find Oshisyth though the green has long since disappeared with a quick beating of wings. "It scared me, okay?" she utters in a rushed, quiet and almost angry mutter as she turns, arms crossing once she has herself situated at the very edge of the entrance and looking out.
Reyce tilts back his beer bottle and chugs from it immediately, but his eyes dodge around it to find her face when she starts speaking. He pauses for a moment when she lets that sentence trail off, the lip of the bottle held against his own lips while his brow furrows at her, his eyes squinted up. More beer gets tossed back when she stops, however, his adam's apple bobbing visibly with every swallow. It slows as she continues, the loud sound of his drinking dulled into smaller gulps, which eventually fade away entirely, after she's turned. He moves towards her after a beat, the beer bottle still clutched in his hand, and comes up to the place on the wall she just vacated. Leaning his shoulder against it, he lifts his gaze over her shoulder, watching the empty sky. "The fuck it scare you?" Although watching the sky, his attention remains close enough to her to return if she looks back at him, but in the meantime he just takes a quick sip from his beer and hangs onto it.
A glimpse of that same faint frown can be caught as Issa tosses back half a glance at him settling along the wall behind her, though her eyes never come close to meeting his. Her head shakes lightly, curls shivering with the motion, and if he places her mannerisms correctly he'll know that she's probably rolling her eyes for that question she doesn't want to answer. She does, in the end, but not before a long pause where it seems like she won't, and her tone when she does is dull, flat. "Because you left like it wasn't anything, just six days, didn't matter. Because I realized I'd miss you more when it isn't just six days." There's the vague sound of rote to it all, but he's certainly never heard it before; it must have been in her head those nights here alone that it got so much repetition.
Reyce draws in a deep, quick breath, his eyes dropping abruptly from the sky down to his bottle. Though only just opened, it's already near empty due to all the chugging he did just minutes ago. He does another chug now, finishing it, then lets out a silent, alcohol-laden breath behind his hand while he watches her again. "Know what you mean," he answers, shifting his shoulder restlessly against the wall. "Used to think on that, days you had Fall or something. Just days. Day after that want to fuck you, be with you, much as I can." He pauses and drops his eyes to the beer bottle, clearing his throat to let her know he's not done speaking yet, though it takes him a second before he attempts it again. "Get what we can, yeah? Before I go; but, Issa, I don't even know, I mean, you don't have to do that. 'H -" Whatever the word was about to become, he stops it before it becomes more than a breath. He grips the neck of the beer bottle in both hands, then draws his eyes up to hers with a sniff. "I talked to my father," he says.
Issa finally tears her eyes away from the bustle of dragon wings seen across the bowl and rocks back into place on the stone wall, both of her shoulders falling flat against it as he questions her. Her frown has quieted to a much more vague sort of tension by then, but eye contact is still elusive and she spends the majority of the time he takes staring down at the edge of the rug where it runs at an angle with the back of the couch. But his ending comment sparks enough idle surprise to draw her gaze up to find him, her face turned his way only slightly. "About what?" she questions quietly, more curious than suspicious by far, though both motives color her tone.
Reyce purses his cheeks into his mouth, lifting the beer bottle to gesture with it in a vague circle before he drops it to his side, ignoring the light whack it deals to his knee. "Staying," he spits out, there being only the one way to say it. He breathes out heavily, shifting his angle harder into the wall and leaning his weight against it. "I'm staying." When the side of his face tips against the cool stone he closes his eyes for a moment, but in the next he forces them open again so he can stare at Issa, his mouth settled - with an effort - into neutrality.
Issa blinks. As if the meaning of that simple word escapes her for a second. And then she does it again as she catches on, her gaze drifting from him to land, unfocused, on the other wall straight ahead. Her mouth falls open, just slack at first, but then there's the sense that it might, somehow, form a word or two in the near future. A breath puffs out of her, shoulders slumping down as it leaves, and then her voice comes tumbling out with an emotional quiver. "Fuck, Reyce, I'm horrible. Why would you..." The last is muffled, as she pivots and sways into him, hiding her face against that shoulder he has pressed against the wall. Her arms drop free from their crossed confines as she does, hands finding the edge of his jacket and curling onto it, though her attentions go no further than that at the moment.
Reyce takes her into his arms as though it were not refuge she sought but comfort, wrapping her up in a crushing hold that could almost squeeze the worries out of her as well as her breath. "I'm staying," he says again, almost stubbornly, and one of his hands falls quickly to her waist, drawing her tightly against him and making it impossible for her to hang on to his jacket. "Been thinking about it; I decided. My whole life it's been Benden, I even come here and it's still Benden, and I've got maybe my whole life to spend there. Need to step back, it's not just you, /I/ need to step back. Go where I'm best at." He shifts the beer bottle in his grip, lining it up along the curve of her spine. He holds her there, flattened against him, as he falls silent and waits on her answer.
Issa blinks. As if the meaning of that simple word escapes her for a second. And then she does it again as she catches on, her gaze drifting from him to land, unfocused, on the other wall straight ahead. Her mouth falls open, just slack at first, but then there's the sense that it might, somehow, form a word or two in the near future. A breath puffs out of her, shoulders slumping down as it leaves, and then her voice comes tumbling out with an emotional quiver. "Fuck, Reyce, I'm horrible. Why would you..." The last is muffled, as she pivots and sways into him, hiding her face against that shoulder he has pressed against the wall. Her arms drop free from their crossed confines as she does, hands finding the edge of his jacket and curling onto it, though her attentions go no further than that at the moment.
Reyce takes her into his arms as though it were not refuge she sought but comfort, wrapping her up in a crushing hold that could almost squeeze the worries out of her as well as her breath. "I'm staying," he says again, almost stubbornly, and one of his hands falls quickly to her waist, drawing her tightly against him and making it impossible for her to hang on to his jacket. "Been thinking about it; I decided. My whole life it's been Benden, I even come here and it's still Benden, and I've got maybe my whole life to spend there. Need to step back, it's not just you, /I/ need to step back. Go where I'm best at." He shifts the beer bottle in his grip, lining it up along the curve of her spine. He holds her there, flattened against him, as he falls silent and waits on her answer.
Issa's hands fall flat against his chest as she's crushed against him, elbows tightly bent, but a second later she drags them around, under his jacket, to his back where they press in with a desperate clutching at his shirt. Her head, turned to the side along his shoulder, lifts a few seconds after he stops speaking and she pulls back just enough in his squeezing embrace to see his face. "You're still going to try for Benden, yeah?" she inquires softly, eyes squinting slightly with confusion as to what exactly this staying situation means.
His muscles tighten underneath her hands and he lifts his face, turning to look out the narrow opening still left in the curtain. His nostrils widen, but if he's breathing he is doing it silently. "No," he says, his gaze suddenly returning to her. In the space of a few seconds, he has withdrawn from her, though he still has her wrapped up in his arms - less tightly. "Not 'trying' for anything right now, said I need a break from Benden so I'm taking one, doesn't mean shit if I say that and I'm still thinking like I'll be there." Noticing the beer bottle in his hand, suddenly, he gives it a shake as he steps back from her, lifting his arms off her and transferring the bottle to his other hand, his head already turned away as he scans for a place to leave it.
Issa's grasp loosens as soon as he shows signs of extricating himself, drawing back when his embrace pulls away though her fingertips linger just a second longer along his hips before leaving entirely. Concern tensing further in her expression, she looks down to her feet, allowing him to retreat and find a resting spot for that empty bottle. A moment later, she speaks up again, her voice tentative, gentle. "Reyce." Her chin lifts again, bringing with it her gaze. "If you're doing this because... of the baby..." Her voice cuts off suddenly with a swallow and her head shakes faintly. "Don't."
Reyce has opted to set his empty bottle on the floor by the crate he took it from, taking himself across the room and staying there when she speaks. He takes advantage of the wall again, this time turning his shoulders fully back against it as he faces Issa, his boot raising to prop him on the edge of the beer crate. His lips drawn down at the corners, but he holds silent while she tries to speak. "Think I don't know what I'm doing," he answers softly, digging the side of his boot into the crate and making it scrape across the floor towards him. "Know what I'm doing, know it better than you, so don't tell me I'm doing wrong. Done with that." He draws his body into a curl, shoulders tilted down towards the floor and knee still drawn up on top of the crate. He makes it shift again, more sharply this time, sending a crack of noise across the room.
"Sorry," Issa mutters, her eyes darting to the wall beside her then tracing over the stone all the way to the ground. Her boot lifts and taps sideways into the wall she watched a second ago, marking time for the pause she takes before she repeats, "Reyce, I'm sorry," more emphatically. She steps across the distance and curls her fingers around the bend of his elbow, drawing him to her. "I'm really... really," she stresses as she does, letting a wry breath puff acknowledgement for the obviousness of the statement, "happy." Her smile even spreads slowly again, though it's brief, dimming again with a shake of her head. "I just don't want you to regret something because of me," she adds, quieter still, leaving the subject of the baby alone for now.
Reyce remains where he stands as she walks across the room, though his cheeks puff with a heavy breath when she apologizes. His eyes lift when she gets near to him, flicking back and forth across her face before settling, when she touches his elbow, on hers. "Don't," he suggests, stepping into her. His hands go in opposite directions, one sliding all the way down to the top of her thigh and the other going to tilt her face up to his own. "Tell you something." But whatever it is he's already distracting her from it, squeezing her lower body against him and gently stealing a kiss from her mouth.
Issa lifts easily into that kiss, one hand falling to the side of his face, though when he pulls away she doesn't press for any more. Instead she simply breathes a settling sigh and drops back to her heels, murmuring an assenting, "Okay." Her hand drifts down to his, pressing briefly to reaffirm the hold on her thigh before rubbing a caress up his forearm.
Reyce's other hand follows the first, sliding down just below her ass and giving a pull that knocks her off balance, leaving her nothing to do but be caught by his arms. He gives a small grunt as he heaves her up, his shoulders tilting back against the wall once more while he shifts her up comfortably over his waist and gets a better hold on her body. "Always wanted to fuck you," he says, "out on the ledge." He heaves his shoulders backwards, pushing off from the wall, and begins to walk her towards the ledge, catching her mouth if he can for another, longer kiss.
Issa brings her hands up to the tops of his shoulders, helping him heft her up along with the tightening of her thighs at his waist. By the time he leans forward to catch her in a kiss, she's had the same idea and is leaning forward to meet it forcefully, her arms tossed tightly around his neck. "Oh, Reyce," she murmurs on breaking, pressing her nose into his cheek as she heaves once, breathlessly, "I love you." Apparently that's her assent, because she simply squeezes him in her embrace after it and sinks into another kiss that lasts them all the way past the curtain and out into the cloud-dotted sunlight of the morning. The calls of drills echo from the opposite side of the ball, but the bustle nearer to them is restricted to the occasional dragon winging up to sun on one of the higher ledges for a moment of leisure.
One hopes those dragons don't look down too much. If they did, they would see Reyce hastily dropping to his knee once he gets outside, depositing Issa on her back and giving a quick tug at her pants, drawing her attention there but leaving the rest to her as he goes for his own. He has, as usual, work enough of his own there, and by the time she gets her pants off - and she can expect a knock on her knee if she doesn't seem to be doing this - he's only just got the fastenings down. There's no pause for reflection, though, as he simply crawls on top of her and begins with a shove, reaching down to grab one of her legs and forcefully wrap it around him. His mouth finds hers in a hot, moist grab, lips closing over her entire mouth and dragging off only to grab at her again, and again, in time with the thrusts that rub her back against the hard stone of the ledge, bruising her shoulders over an old gash left by some dragon's claw long ago. Six days of no Issa rush up and through him and out in heavy grunted shoves that sound straight into her mouth and shake beads of sweat off onto her cheek. He hangs onto her mouth all the way till he finishes, his lips slipping free with a hard groan as he cups his shoulders above her. He remains that way for a long moment, eyes squeezed shut and muscles frozen, before he rolls off her with a weaker groan and reaches down to find how far his pants have fallen so he can pull them back up. Not before he groans again, however, her name this time worked into his breathing.
No need for urging, Issa begins to fight with her pants even before he retreats to take care of his own. Her boots must be kicked off, but once that's done the process is fairly quick and she leaves both pants and underwear in a rumpled heap to one side. The leg he tosses over him is swiftly joined by the second as she uses them to leverage her hips up to meet his, shoving her shoulders even harder onto the bump-riddled stone with a short grunt. His heavy grunts are met by her own muffled moans hummed onto his lips. She keeps her hand in his hair throughout, curled into a hard fist until she comes and it flattens over the entire back of his head. Even that slips away, then, trembling, as things quiet, that hand brought in to slide from her forehead and down the front of her torso before being swung wide again, landing with a light bump on his chest, knuckles down and fingers languidly curled up. "Mmm," she sighs, his praise, before dragging herself into a sitting position, shoulders stretching achingly, to retrieve the underwear that was tossed aside. Weakly they're tugged up to cover her again, back set to stone again as she lifts her hips and stomach-- maybe it's just the absence of six days, but the small bulge there seems to have gone from faint to definite on her thin frame in such a short time-- into the air to finish the job. That done, she moves up to crawl over to him, legs tossed over him in a lazy straddle as she uses him as a cushion this time. Arms tucked close against his sides, she plants her chin firmly in the middle of his chest and stares down at him with contentedly drooping eyes, her now-mussed braid draped over one shoulder.
If he notices the change, Reyce must be doing his best to ignore it, for his eyes drink in the arch of her body as she yanks those underpants back on without pausing more than a second on her stomach. His attention trakcs up to her face when she rolls over him, a hand following to cup her cheekbone and press back into her hair, his fingers bumping down the braid (and probably mussing it further) when he reaches it. "Like that," he comments, giving the tail a small shake and letting it drop back to her shoulder. His hand does the same, but travels to the other shoulder and gives her body a small rock before letting her settle. Meanwhile, his eyes have begun roving over her face, drinking in every one of /those/ details.
A small smile tilts up for his comment and Issa responds, her voice rich with relaxation, "I thought you might. It's finally long enough." She nuzzles down then for a lazy bit of silence, nose and mouth pressed into the front of the shirt while she breathes in slow and blinks even slower. "Come on," she finally says, words muffled warmly into his chest before she pushes up and drags him with insistent fingertips into a sitting position with her. He's rewarded with a soft, lingering kiss should he follow, her hand pulling through his hair and down onto his jaw. "Let's move to the bed," she continues softly. "You can tell me what happened in Benden. I can get naked. Or put something on, if you want." She puts her face right up next to his again and leans her forehead up against his, eyes dancing as they meet his, their noses bumping lightly. "I can give you your presents." An amused breath for the plural she uses snorts out of her nose and onto his face, her lips spreading into a slightly wider smile.
In the silence, after the sex, the exhaustion that dogged his return this morning returns, and it doesn't take a second before his eyes drift closed and he nearly falls asleep out on the sunny ledge. Her words warn him, however, and he struggles out of sleep with a few blinks even as she pulls him upright, not quite managing to muffle the yawn that comes out of him before her kiss lands. /That/ wakes him up, at least, perhaps more than is helpful as he continues to lean after that kiss when it retreats, seeming almost disappointed that more words (not more kisses) follow. But he settles his expression, watching her levelly save for the blink it takes him to refocus when she moves her face in. "Can do all those things," he confirms, eyelids lowering into a small, amused squint after he says it. He gives her hip a nudge with his hand, though: they'll need to get up if they're to do any of them.
Reyce takes her hand when it's offered to him, but he still uses his own, free hand to push most of his weight, and Issa's arm need only deal with a slight pull as he lifts to join her. His fingers remain closed over her wrist for the duration of that squeeze, but he lets her trail away when she goes to recover her pants and boots, opting instead to simply watch her, his eyes tracing the lines of her near leg. When it starts moving away, he moves with it, slipping through the curtain without any more than stirring it. Her sudden reversal takes him by mild surprise and he grunts when her arms go back around him, though his are pleased enough to follow suit and swing low over her hips. Despite persistent darkness underneath his eyes, his reaction to the suggested sleep time is a clear negative, his expression simply tightened up with distaste. Those hides, though, remain to be done at some point, and his negativity fades reluctantly while he considers this. "Need sleep," he admits, swing her hips around him so it's her with her back to the weyr outside. "Wake me up." He gives her a gentle push back towards the curtain, giving her ass a light slap to send her on her way, then turns to haul his clothes off, toss them in his corner, and climb naked as ever into the bed, where sleep hastily claims him.
((Part 2))