[prp] Just a p***k [Ar'din/Nyara + dergs]

[Sweet Symmetry]

Whatcha doing?

I don’t know… something stupid, probably. Knowing me.

Mictecath let out a yawn, stretching- for the umpteenth time that day- on her brand new overly large ledge. Yes, she still had some growing to do, but leaving the weyrling barracks had been a devastating blow to the young queen. Now there was no one she could sneak up on and cuddle at will.She would have to fly and visit them, and that would ruin the impromptu gift-sharing of her love!

Stop your fretting, my love. We’re going to go visit Alquemieth and his. I just want to find something really… daft… ah, there. Yes. That’s perfect.

Is that a… tea set? Didn’t you buy that as a present for your mama?

Yes, but I decided she needed something nicer. And handmade. So I think it will go lovely in Ar’din’s weyr, what do you think? He can entertain all of his guests.

Why are you saying his name weird like that? Mictecath probed, both confused and mildly curious.

Because he’s an idiot and he will hate this gift.

... I really… Okay. You know what? I won’t argue with you this time, only because I think your brain is broken and seeing Alquemieth and his might actually help somehow.

Don’t lie. You’re just excited to get out of this weyr and into somebody else’s.

That has also crossed my mind, yes. But I really am concerned about you.

Nyara couldn’t be forthright like this- it was still… strange to have the ban on physical intimacy lifted. And as far as Mictecath was concerned, platonic love and… well, sexual love… it was all just love to her. Sure, she would Rise one day- and no doubt she understood the fundamentals… but did she really understand?

Of course I understand. You like that he’s big and tall and brooding and you want to see if he seems as mean if you hug him as he normally appears.

Nyaranau froze, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks. It was an odd look for her- a deer caught in the headlights kind of moment. It took a great deal to faze the great Nyaranau. Mictecath knew all the cracks in her armour- well, why wouldn’t she? They shared minds, thoughts, feelings, hearts and souls. The dragon knew just which heartstrings to pluck to stir some feelings. Gah.

You could just ask him, you know?

This is much funnier. Much more of a laugh. She answered, her grin returning to her once more. Come on then. She bundled the teaset up into a protective cloth, and vaulted her dragon with growing excitement.

Mictecath did not need to be told twice. As soon as her Nyara was safe, she spread her wings and leapt into the air, powerful muscles doing the work the wind was not. Alquemieth, we are coming to visit. It wasn’t so much a request- nothing with Mictecath ever came with a hint of question, so certain she was of herself.

As the gold settled on the ledge, Nyara slid down her side and patted her with a free hand. As soon as her rider was steady on her feet, Mic moved forwards to nuzzle her bronze brother, happiness and love whirling in her eyes. Though the vaguest memories of his earliest transgression still lingered in Nyara’s mind, he had proven himself capable and protective of their family, and had won back her trust. I am pleased to see you looking so happy and well! How are you finding your new weyr? The excitement eased into the musical lilt of her voice, a sweet, enthusiastic song.

Nyara entered the weyr without a second thought. “Hey, Ar’din. Hope you don’t mind that we’re stopping in. Thought I’d come and surprise you- keep you on your toes, and all that.” Really, if people were not used to her eccentricities by now, they never would be.

Poor Ar’din.

medigel

Finally got to it haha. I can edit, just lmk!

 

[medigel]

Let’s set the scene.

Ar’din’s weyr had yet to get anything particularly striking added to it. The weyr’s walls were a little lumpy towards the door, in one place just low enough for the ceiling to caress his hair even, and it gave the impression of the hole being one giant open mouth, the ledge a tongue. The space was more than adequate, but he would have traded it for something smaller if it meant being higher and away from the ground. Aside from the bed, which he really needed to talk to the quartermaster or headwoman about because it was too small, and aside from the dragon cushions, which Alquemieth didn’t prefer over looming at the ledge most days, there were his blankets as issued in the beginning for the winter (a mess at the foot of the bed), a cabinet that was lined with herbal remedies and bottles not far from that, a desk adjacent to that, and pretty much nothing else. Everything of the senior weyrling’s seemed allocated to just the one corner, and the rest was the barren inner cheek of a stone monster.

Ar’din himself was at the desk and shirtless.

It was hard to tell why exactly he needed to be shirtless to write a letter to Gregor. Knowing him, it was possibly entirely on purpose that he didn’t bother looking more presentable when Alquemieth alerted him to incoming visitors. Or maybe it was just too hot: there was a bit of sweat hanging on his skin. Or maybe he had been doing something else entirely and had gone to the desk to look casual: the medicine cabinet wasn’t latched closed, and a slip of a map of Pern stuck out along with pages of previously graded homework; there were also stone weights scattered about.

He really needed more storing space. Maybe a curtain.

Either by practiced motion or coincidence, Ar’din was just about to reach for a shirt from the pile of dirty ones when Nyara entered from the ledge entrance. If it irked him that the goldrider pair just waltzed in everywhere like they owned the place, he didn’t show it. He grabbed the shirt and began wiping at his face. “Consider me surprised,” he said, half muffled and wholly unsurprised. “Welcome to the mouth of the beast.”

Alquemieth had immediately made room for their arrival once his sister touched base, and he bowed his head slightly to them both in greeting. One would rarely call the bronze “happy”, but for a gold as wonderful as Mictecath, he was more than eager to serve and it showed in his eyes. < How could I not be pleased to see you? I apologize for the lack of commodities, > he said as they nuzzled, allowing himself to share in her love and happiness if for a moment. < Should it not be to your liking, we might fly elsewhere. The Heights are popular this time of day. > And while Alquemieth wasn’t one to thrive in the crowd, he wouldn’t argue against Mic’s whim.

Sweet Symmetry

u good!

 

[Sweet Symmetry]

medigel

And there it was- everything that made him all the more irritating in one room- it stabbed and irritated in the back of her mind, but she didn’t let it show. This pernicious lack of care, even (or especially) for himself… still, there was a grin on her face, still, her brown eyes twinkled with their usual hint of mischief, lips curling into a smirk. What had he been doing? Half-naked, writing letters? Well, a woman might admire for a moment or two.

As he bid her welcome, she strolled into the room, peering around with exaggerated interest. “I brought you a present…” She began, her voice soft, the stirrings of a great joke hidden in the word present. “But, to be honest, you look like you’ve been robbed. Do you not usually own things?” She sat down on his bed, gently unwrapping the tea set with a growing grin. “I’m sure it’ll go just lovely with your… wardrobe, or something.”

No, dear Alquemieth, your ledge is quite lovely, I assure you. Truthfully, Mictecath’s happiness depended more on the company she held than the state of the rock beneath her. Though sunshine appealed to her, she did covet time spent alone with her siblings and clutchmates. Perhaps soon you might visit mine? I must confess to being uncertain as to how to decorate it… I might need to visit Mama and see what she has done with hers. Her tones rang with a sweet note of jubilation- the prospect of visiting Fianth was adding to her overall happiness, and she was already close to bursting.

How are you and yours? No complaints? No problems in classes? She snuggled closer against him, decidedly not shy about the physical contact. No troubles of the hearts, either, I hope? It was hard to subdue that strong natural desire to nurture pretty much every dragon she came into contact with- and Alquemieth was no exception to that rule. Though she knew he was a little bit more… standoffish in his affections at times, Mic believed his hearts beat warm blood beneath that icy veneer.  

[medigel]

She brought a what? Ar’din tossed the dirty shirt aside and looked at the tea set like it was a foreign object. Alquemieth nudged him to be more presentable, and he fished for a clean top normally saved for working out. Nyara was given a long-suffering look as she sat on his bed, knowing from the moment they had decided to visit that no place would be sacred. Joy.

“Didn’t have stuff before,” Ar’din said simply. It hadn’t really seemed weird to him in the barracks, where each of them had only so much space; now it was more obvious how little he owned that wasn’t weyr-given. “I got searched for the double clutch, so no time afterwards either.”

He made a vague gesture for her to put the tea set on the writing desk, though not before removing Gregor’s letter to fold up and come back to later. “I’ll try not to break it within a sevenday. Uh. Thanks.” It was almost a question. Something in his demeanor said he was expecting Nyara to ask a favor in return.

< You need only say the word for me to be there, > Alquemieth said to his sister with the same intense energy he had for everything else, earnest and loving. < Mother would love it if we consulted her, I am sure. She misses us fiercely. > It was why he touched base with her whenever he could, if not outright visited. He didn’t wish he was still a dragonet—if anything Alque was more than ready to be an adult already, with all the privileges and options available therein—but he would always find time for Fianth as he would for either of his golden clutchsibs, if they asked.

Though he would never lie to them either, Mictecath’s questions provoked a pause. He had no need to give his hearts out like some others were so eager to trip over themselves for, whatever snide and catty clutchsibs said, and he would never think to burden his sister with his private arguments with Ar’din. But denying Mic was a lot like trying to plug a dam with a finger: sooner or later the water would burst forth regardless. Alquemieth shifted idly, accepting her touch but stiff when it came to returning it so openly, though he wouldn’t tell her no.

< Out of all of us, I know that we will be tapped for weyrling wingsecond, should V’mel request for one, > the bronze said after a moment, an edge of pride in his voice. He mentally tapped Ar’din so that he would at least hear that, causing the young man to cross his arms and shrug it off. < Mine has done well in his studies, better than before, and I have no complaints on my progress. There are qualities of a leader in him, if he would but step forward and take ownership of them. >

Stop gushing in front of your girlfriend already, Ar’din grumbled.

Across their bond was amused affront. As if such a tiny word could define his sister.

< How have your lessons been? > Alquemieth asked in turn.

Sweet Symmetry