Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Sept 21, 2013 20:47:47 GMT -8
3075.10.16| late Breakfast (mid-morning)
T’kar had long suspected that breakfast was a firelizard’s favorite time of day. Never mind that his firelizards always ate early, much earlier than most. Threadfall, they even ate earlier than him, and this was actually his second meal of the day — though the first didn’t really count, consisting only of a handful of meat stuffed between the halves of a roll, and grabbed immediately before practice. T’kar reflected, briefly, on the fact that if he had a wingrider who acted like he did, he would have to hand out discipline to teach that individual not to abuse their body. The reflection was doomed to briefness, because Wamarna chose that moment to land right beside his plate and stick her nose in his klah.
After rescuing the little Dream from the nearly-scalding liquid and diverting her with a small piece of meat, T’kar leaned back in his chair, quite content to take a break from responsibility for a few moments. It wasn’t often that he and Rilora were able to eat breakfast together, normally they shared dinners instead. He had plans for the rest of the day, which, elegant in their simplicity, consisted of successfully sharing all three meals of the day with Rilora. He wasn’t needed as often with the Wherlings, and had already talked with the other riders who were helping with the training, arranging to have the evening off too.
Pulling a blank sheet of paper out of his pocket, he folded it and passed it across the table to Rilora. “Have you seen your schedule for the day?” he asked her, indicating the sheet.
Unlike T'kar, Rilora's klah was free of firelizards. In fact it was in her hands, overly warm to touch but perfect for drinking. And it was wonderful in that way that little details you are often too busy to notice are wonderful. She had actually been able to sleep in that morning. She still wasn't sure how it had worked out that way, but it had happened. She would not argue with it.
Rilora took another slice of fruit and then returned the hot klah mug to her hands. She even held the cup up to her face for a moment to feel the warmth on her cheek. Though the seasons were less pronounced in the jungly Weyr than in her home Hold and amongst the farms, it had been cooler and dry before and was changing into what would be called spring at Golden Flight this time of Turn. But for this morning it was still, comparatively, cool, and so Rilora held the mug close. Perhaps this would be a good day to get another cup, do a bit of work by a fire, and then cuddle. She liked that plan.
"Schedule?" She looked up. She had just been thinking about... With a laugh she exclaimed, "T'kar, this is blank!" Surely this day could not be that kind, to offer her the liberty to do whatever she could devise to do. Surely he was joking...but a part of her wanted to hope he wasn't.
She’d gone into the Infirmary for something routine, what it had been she couldn’t even remember now. While there, the Senior Wherhandler had complained of being ill of late and a bit tired—moreso than was usual—and the Healer had insisted on poking and prodding at her. Then next thing Dalonia knew, the woman was grinning at her like she was about to come to some glorious conclusion. Tables had been flipped and Dalonia had stormed out of the Infirmary with an expression so thunderous that it sent people skittering out of her way. One of the guards veered towards her to ask a question only to have the hand that reached out to touch the woman’s shoulder twisted violently until he cried out.
With a growl, Dalonia demanded to know where the Weyrleader was and after getting a stuttered response, shoved the middle-aged man away and stormed across the Weyr towards the Dining Caverns. She was beyond livid; if she was capable of admitting it, she was terrified. As she stalked in through the entrance and paused to let her eyes adjust to the more comfortable dimmer lighting, Dalonia was deaf to any greetings tossed her way and after several people got a glimpse of the look of sheer feral animosity on the woman’s face or the way her pale green eyes were fixed on the raised table a hush began to descend.
It was no secret that the Weyrleader and the Wherhandler often butted heads and there was more than a little speculation about the tension between them. For the most part, gossips never questioned the woman’s loyalty no matter how much grief she gave T’kar; she had gotten stabbed to protect him from that crazed candidate that had gone after the Abyss weyrling after all. And there had been some spectacle a couple months back when something had happened in the barracks that had started whispers about the woman’s past but her loyalty to the weyr and its leaders hadn’t been called into question since the kidnapping debacle.
The look that she was directing at the weyrleader now, however, superseded all of that.
Taking off towards the dais, head slightly down like a feline stalking prey, she circled around the edge of the room then climbed to the raised table. Silent as a shadow though she very nearly radiated hostility, she stalked directly up to T’kar where he was grinning and making merry with his little goldrider and hauling back, her balled fist shot out and connected with his cheek. Those that hadn’t been aware of the seething wherhandler were now very, acutely aware. There was a collective gasp and in that silence, the crimsonhandler snapped.
“Ya did this! Ya foul, arrogant, vile man! I could kill ya!” Her voice was low though towards the end it cracked and she growled, hands curled into fists at her side, so tightly clenched that her knuckles were white. “I hope yer shardin' happy, dragonrider; ya finally managed to ruin m' life.”
Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Nov 5, 2013 10:51:11 GMT -8
“Well, yes, I do believe it…” Whatever he’d been about to say next was lost as a fist connected solidly with his cheek, snapping his head to down and to the side. Wide eyes already narrowing, T’kar spun around to face his attacker, ignoring the cloud of hissing firelizards that had appeared above his head.
“Calm down!” T’kar snapped, straightening slightly from his combative crouch. “What are you even talking about?”
Then Dalonia stormed in. Like the sudden heavy rain and lightning of the worst summer storms she became angry and T'kar spun from the chair. The morning's juice, which had been a pleasant accompaniment to the meal a moment before, stuck in her throat as she had watched Dalonia's fist connect with T'kar's face. Rather than choke on it her body decided to spray it about the table as she sputtered and tried to continue breathing. She was relieved T'kar asked her business, or whatever this madness was, as her eyes were watering and she was still catching her breath. She felt like she should stand but her lungs had a different idea so in the chair she remained. Finally she added, still with a rasp in her voice, "Yes, what is the meaning of this?"
Dalonia's own small horde arrived minus Klutz which still secretly bothered the woman though no one without intimate access to her mind would ever know. Pest and Thief hovered in the air, the later nipping at the former any time he tried to dip down and land on the irate woman. Gradually he was learning though he still clung to her any chance he could get away with it.
Oblivious to the cloud of furious little vermin above their heads, Dalonia's lip curled in a far too wher-like manner. Truly she was a wild creature, barely tamed to take food from the hand; a product of upbringing and necessity that would likely never truly be far from the surface. She hissed, about to snarl her accusation at T'kar when his little woman chimed in and her words dissolved into a growl as she cut a venemous look at the woman. "This don't concern you, so back off!"
Turning her thunderous pale eyes back to T'kar, she seemed tense as though waiting to strike. "Ya put a roll in th' oven, ya've sewn yer seed in fertile land, ya got me pregnant!" The last was more growl than shout but with the hall having quieted as much as it had, it was mostly audible to the first several tables and spread like a wild fire to the rest. The weyrleader and the senior wherhandler. Some were shocked, other's confused--didn't they barely tolerate each others presence?--and a certain few actually laughed.
With one final snarl and resisting the urge to punch the man again for looking so bewildered and shocked, she spun around and stormed out of the dining hall; but not before cuffing one of the laughing men--a guard--upside the head. Pest darted after her while Thief lingered briefly, hissed and then winked out only to reappear with his woman and guard her rear.
Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Feb 18, 2014 19:28:33 GMT -8
T’kar dropped back into the chair, staring. He couldn’t even make any sense of his thoughts, or his feelings. He knew he probably should offer her a quick trip between, but, his kid. Only, Dalonia. How can something, not even really a dream, but wished for sincerely, end up almost a nightmare?
Confused, Star settled on T’kar’s shoulder, resting his head on his human’s soft black hair.
Finally, T’kar turned to Rilora, his mouth opening, though no sound came out. He had no idea what to say. This was not the sort of situation in which he’d ever pictured himself.