Welcome to Gaia! ::

In the cold of the fast-approaching mountain winter, the Trespassers’ Wingleader was even further gratified by his ownership of a private bath. Few things relaxed his tense muscles as well as a scalding hot bath with salts and oils. He’d stayed in as long as he could stand it, and when he stepped, half-dressed and damp, back into the cooler main space of his weyr, his bare skin literally steamed. The cold that almost hurt before felt so soothing after such heat that he couldn’t help but share the pleasure with Yisketh, who had never had a hot bath in his life. The bronze, curled up on his couch on the other side of the wall, reveled in the lovely sensation. I wish I could fit in a bath, he sighed wistfully.

He’d just settled into his soft, comfortable armchair with some reports when he heard Zenobiath’s voice, announcing her and Alumet’s arrival. The sounds of hide brushing the floor and walls came from the direction of Yisketh’s couch as the bronze roused and went out to meet Zenobiath. The man let slip a small snort. Yisketh was so unenthusiastic about his rider’s interest in Alumet, but – and rather hypocritically, K’ienn thought – didn’t seem to feel any hesitation about making nice with her gold, now that Zenobiath was coming into her own.

He heard the tap of the girl’s knuckles on his door, and nearly invited her right in. He glanced down at the umber ripples of his bare torso, considered the idea again for a moment, and thought the better of it. She was still under certain restrictions, best not to... overwhelm her. He pulled his white fur cloak off the back of the chair and draped it over his shoulders as he stood to properly greet his guest. “I’m here, Alumet. Come on in.”

Yes, Yisketh had been quite unhappy with his rider’s choice in chasing after a weyrling. K’ienn could see a gilded future full of structure, success and harmony in that girl… with that girl, though it would likely take a dozen turns or longer to manifest. The bronze had struggled to picture it working out, after what he’d gone through with Fianth. Over the last few months, he was surprised to discover that Zenobiath would spare him a second glance, and occasionally more, as she did today. A preening gold, especially one as elegant as she, made Yisketh’s eyes soft and his hearts begin to melt. So, with tentative joy and a strange sadness that he kept hidden from the young gold, he decided that perhaps he could pursue… would pursue. For himself. Not for K’ienn. If she would choose him… maybe everything would be all right again.


Not much could distract K’ienn from his duties these days. One thing, however, was becoming a bit of an exception. As Alumet entered his domain, he forgot about the reports, eyes locked on her radiant form. She had been beautiful before, but now, she was something more. She had the distinct air of a princess entering into her rightful station as a queen. And though she had taken to more practical style of dress as a rider, not even a dusty old burlap sack could disguise those sensuous curves.

His breath caught as her hand brushed against his. She did so love to do that every chance she got, ever since they first met that day in the records room. He smirked as she turned her back to him on her way to steal his armchair. Her flaxen hair had gotten so long, he noted. The longer, the better. He’d gather it in his fingers, delighting at its softness, and--

He cleared his throat.

“Troubled? Whatever for, Alumet?”

K’ienn listened to the woman’s concerns, the smirk on his face fading, then coming back as a somewhat softer smile. For as free as she’d been with her body in her former life, she was still so… innocent. It struck a chord, somewhere inside of the dark-haired bronzerider, and he found himself taking a knee to bring himself closer to her level, his hand resting on the arm of the chair just shy of touching Alumet’s. “You will be fine,” he said. “You are smart, well-educated, and you know what’s expected of you. And your self-control is… commendable. Honestly, Alumet, I don’t believe you will make any of the mistakes you’re afraid of making.” He quirked a brow. “...Unless you’ve got some sort of plan that I’m not aware of?”

Still kneeling, his heart began to race. Without so much a single suggestion, Alumet was following the script he’d written in his mind four months before. She was more fixated on him than he’d ever expected… or was that… hoped? As her fingers entwined with his, his focus was complete. He was silent, but his thoughts blazed. People only thought she favored him? Didn’t she? Didn’t she come to his weyr day after day of her own accord, unannounced and without a chaperon, and look upon him with those bewitching blue eyes that gazed so deeply into his even now? What other reason would she have to do that?

She lifted her other hand to stroke his cheek, and her touch was like fire on his skin. Alarm bells sounded in the back of his mind even as he reacted, his dark fingers tightening around hers, so pale and delicate. His chin lifted as he leaned over her slowly, yet without hesitating even for a moment. Once would be enough. Just once. And then the bells became deafening.

He froze, his lips so close to hers that he could feel her breath on his face. He was suddenly very aware that the edge he was balanced upon in that moment was treacherous. Everything he’d worked for could have been ended in a single moment, but for the space of a finger’s breadth.

K'ienn sat back on both knees, regaining control over his thoughts and impulses. “A Weyrling… must follow certain rules.” Then he stood up and took a few steps back from the chair, out of Alumet’s reach. But he did not look away.

“Very, very strict rules. For the safety of their dragons. And if you are concerned about people talking... If you are concerned about rumors you may have heard about my past... I admit to you that I made some mistakes on the way here, and I regret them." His dark eyes flashed with pain. "My biggest regret… is Olliah.”

On the ledge with Zenobiath, Yisketh was also poised in wait for his rider’s answer, confused by the sudden melange of emotions K’ienn was feeling. The previously cool, collected mind was in turmoil. K'ienn? What are you doing?

I… I’m not sure. This… wasn’t supposed to happen.

A wound thought to be long healed had been split open and bled afresh. A wound that had been smothered with the palliatives of strife and forward momentum, willfully suppressed as a hindrance, irrelevant to the present… wasn’t it?

As his lips uttered that name, he realized just how deep he had gone. Without even comprehending what he was doing, he’d given this… girl… access to his innermost hurts. Bruised pride, a sundered heart, absolute enslavement to victory in exchange for what…? Nothing more than distraction from the pain. He looked around at what he had won. This weyr, so large and well-furnished that he could almost have hosted a gather in it. This title, one of the highest achievements and honors that could be earned by a dragonrider. His wingriders, who looked to him for leadership and guidance. Twenty turns of sweat and toil, furtive acts, and venomous politics, the last eight of them suffered alone, finally culminating in a monumental leap toward the attainment of his ambitions.

She was so innocent.

This child, whose only worry was about whom she bedded. As if that had any effect on anything, aside from drawing prying eyes and fueling loose tongues.

“Alumet… I do regret hurting Olliah. Every day of my life. If things had gone differently between us, you might be talking to the Weyrleader right now.” He paused to draw a deep breath, trying… and failing… to ignore the aching in his chest. “I am ambitious. In fact, I’ve been set on rising to Weyrleader since I was just a boy. And it is not a goal I am willing to give up. But if I could go back and tell myself what I know now… I would have made more time for her. I wouldn’t have burdened her with my own troubles. I would have taken her burdens upon myself, instead. I would have given her the love she deserves.”

He had exposed everything, the absolute misery of his past with Olliah, the one thing he kept so close that he had never shared it with anyone. And it felt like it had gone absolutely unacknowledged, Alumet’s accusals heaping upon him like so many slaps to the face. Resentment boiled up into his throat, unspoken snarls humming against the walls of his mind. Had he not come to know her so well these past months, if his own heart wasn’t in such turmoil just then, he would have crushed her. Just a few words to shatter that lofty idea that she, a mere weyrling, could be so shaffing important that a High Reaches Wingleader would sacrifice so much of his valuable time to hand-hold, allow her to flaunt rules of decency, and essentially risk everything just to get into her good graces.

And yet… here he was.

Yisketh crooned with relief as his rider’s mind quieted, his own wings relaxing, the red in his eyes fading back to a level yellowish-green. Though he felt everything K’ienn did, the bulk of his concern was for Zenobiath, knowing that whatever his rider said next might very well make her leave… and poison her spirit. As you love me, please be gentle, he implored.

The dark-skinned man wanted to laugh, at the situation, and himself. How in Faranth’s name had he gotten here? I’m trying, Yisketh. I just… don’t know what to say.

Say the truth, then. Just… gently. As you love me.

He met the young woman’s stony gaze, almost excruciatingly aware of Zenobiath’s large, whirling eyes also staring at him. “The truth, Alumet, is that – as dedicated as you are to your duties – there is very little you will actually have any true influence over. Not for a long, long time. It was ten turns before Olliah was chosen as Weyrwoman Second, and twenty for me to work up to Wingleader, by sweat, blood and will alone. Even if you wanted to help me…” He shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s really what you want to hear or not… but there is no way I could use you to further myself, even if I tried.”

Oh, shards… she was crying. The Wingleader took a step toward her, only to stop and shake his head at himself. Not only was it awkward to have a woman crying in his weyr, it was doubly so because there was little he could do to comfort her. Naturally, an embrace was the first reaction, but now Alumet was emotionally volatile. He’d already told her where he stood, what his goals were; he would not risk her responding to his touch the wrong way. Not that he really thought it was wrong, but… again, he cursed the timing of this encounter. He sighed, letting his arms hang loosely at his sides as he gazed at the lovely, tearful girl with a subdued, barely-visible smirk.

“Feelings? For me?”

Honestly, K’ienn wasn’t surprised in the least. She’d not hid it well, if it was meant to be a secret. She certainly knew how to snare his attention with her movements and touch. And, as Alumet had said, there was already gossip about them floating from the mouths of those who were so inclined. He was a little surprised that V’mel hadn’t said a word to him since she started visiting him in private. He knew the Weyrlingmaster had no fear of rank, and that he was fiercely dedicated to protecting his students. Another concern came into his mind at that, but he would grapple with it later.

A bit more gently, now: “I’m sorry that you’ve had to see such things, Alumet, and I’m sorry that what you saw in me frightened you. I’m also sorry that you’ve had to hear about me from people who clearly aren’t my friends. And you’re right… certain goals require sacrifice. Not a lot of people are willing to give up what’s necessary to get what they really want. I’m not going to be one of those weak ones who back down and spends the rest of his life dissatisfied and jealous of those who kept going.” He took a breath, glancing over toward their dragons– a traditional, magnificent gold and bronze pair. “I am a Wingleader, and you will probably see me make some necessary, but harsh decisions down the road which you may not understand. But you don’t need to be afraid to talk to me about it. My door… as you well know… is always open.”