[PRP] Ruminations and Kindling [Sam'kel, K'lar, Dragons]

[Prism Shine]

It’s an odd, sombered feeling that settled over the Weyr after Fall had finished. Losing a rider was never easy, but such a sacrifice was to mourn. One less face at the table, one less brilliant set of wings in the sky. It.. hurt, even though Sam’kel had never really met the pair himself. There was a lot of carnage, but only one death. Sam’kel had somehow, somehow had escaped the brunt of this fall mostly unharmed. His leg is still warm, his throat sore from the dragonfire that had gotten too close for comfort. Kinitarth’s shoulder still warm and aching. Yet luck had been on the blue’s side, as he had been so confident before fall.

I told you. It’s a soft point, and the exhaustion in Kinitarth’s voice was evident. It had been a hard fall, and the wind battering around the small blue had exhausted him. Healers had seen to rubbing salve into the over-exerted wing shoulder, and now smelled a bit oddly of salve. At least for the next day or so, when he was cleared of the heated joint. I had confidence in us. I always have confidence in us, and our wing.

Yet it stops Sam’kel in his mental tracks.. Yes, his wing. The image of Z’tir and Siloth body-blocking a clump of thread to save them was something that was still burned into his mind, and the agonizingly long moments of keeping up formation while waiting, and waiting, and waiting for them to return had made his heart utterly race. It was something that he had not really wrapped his head around. Sam’kel eyes the wine glass in his hand, at the dark reflection of himself in the deep maroon surface. He was.. A wingrider. While he was grateful to him for the save for Kinitarth’s sake.. It didn’t make sense. Z’tir was a wingleader. A bronzerider. Was he grateful for the save? Yes. Did he feel worthy to almost have been the cause of death for one of the more important figures at the Weyr? …

Ease your mind. You’re getting lost. Kinitarth gently nudges his rider, warmth caressing their bond. We live, but they also live. You’re riling yourself up over the possibilities when fall has ended for today. Calm. Why not strike up conversation? Perhaps that wouldn’t be a bad idea. They had checked in with some of their wing members, but not all. And after the loss today… His eyes cast around the Weyrbowl, looking for the larger blue from his perch on his ledge. Mnereth, would you like some company? The day has been long and exhausting.. Especially after losing one..

Sam’kel gently nodded to himself, rubbing the side of his neck as he peered around the lower caverns. There were people smattered around, low conversation that his ears couldn’t quite pick up. No one he quite recognized off the top of his head, the glass he’d drank not quite helping either. Just enough to take the discomfort of the day off, even if it.. wasn’t quite helping now. But one person did look quite familiar, and one that Sam’kel should’ve followed up with after they’d landed..

Gathering himself up, drink in hand, Sam had wandered over to the familiar, willowy form of his fellow wingrider, ne friend. His knuckle gently raps on the table surface, not wanting to startle the other man. There’s a half smile that manages to crawl on his face. A touch forced--exhaustion is leaking through. But spending time with the handsome rider was a nice touch on a somber evening, even just to see how K’lar was. “How’re you holding up?”

Tsunake

<3

 

[Tsunake]

The Fall had been wildly successful, all things considered. The Wings of High Reaches had risen to combat the enemy and successfully protected the lands under their jurisdiction, fighting with valiant bravery. In fact, only one pair had been lost Between even in the harsh conditions--a true testament to the training and dedication of the Weyr's inhabitants. K'lar's red, aching eyes had little to do with the minor scores he and Mnereth had received. A drink was currently in front of him, but the tall, wiry man didn't even see it. Cheza. Poor, poor Cheza and Zurath. He hadn't known them well (he hardly knew anyone well), but he and Mnereth felt the loss all the same.

They died protecting our Queen. Mnereth offered gently, his presence soothing and calm as it wrapped around his tired, distraught rider. Though exhausted as well, His needed him. They will not be forgotten. They fought bravely. So did we..

K'lar nodded unconsciously at that. They had fought well, much to his surprise and delight... but Cheza...

Mnereth stirred quietly on his ledge when he was reached out to, considering the offer. Yes. He said simply, arching his neck to search for Kinitarth. There. He knew that the smaller blue had strained his wing, and so he pushed himself to his feet to glide easily across the Weyrbowl towards his wingmate's position. Seeing no need for words, he carefully lowered himself down next to the other, offering a polite, if tired rumble of greeting.

The sudden tap was still enough to make K'lar jolt with surprise, nearly about to scramble to his feet with embarrassment until he realized it was Sam'kel. "Oh. Oh, Sam'kel--" He gave his head a shake, allowing himself to relax... if only a little. Sam was hardly a strange, and he surely wouldn't judge K'lar for looking uncharacteristically ragged and unkempt. "I... We survived. Which is more than I can say for all of us." He glowered bitterly at his wine for a moment, pausing to take a long drink.

Talk with him. It wasn't a command, but a carefully disguised plea. Mnereth knew the companionship of another human would be the best thing for His right now.

With a sigh, K'lar set his glass down, rubbing his face with his hands. "....I'll be alright. But what of you, of Kinitarth? I saw Z'tir and Siloth dive for you and I..." He'd been both ready for and terrified of the worst. Thank Faranth that their Wingrider was one of the best... if not the best.

Prism Shine

<3!

 

[Prism Shine]

There’s a twinge in Sam’kel that he near instantly regrets disturbing his fellow rider. K’lar looked like everyone else who was shuffling around post-Fall. Battered, exhausted, mussed; but that he wasn’t in his usual state of handsome immaculation had him both unsure and sure that talking to the other was the best choice -- for them both. It's an odd twist in his stomach, seeing his wingmember so distraught. How the light tap made him start, seeing the red in K’lar’s eyes… The impulse to hug the other man is strong.

They had survived. Sam’kel nods, but unable to help the wince at such a bitter tone. Without the courtesy of asking to join, he settles next to the other man. The urge to help, to comfort -- its strong but muddied, and a hand gently finds itself on K’lar’s shoulder, squeezing gently as they take a long pull of their glass. “You survived, and I’m all the happier for it.” But the admission is soft, and a little wonder if Sam’kel had actually meant to say it, or keep the thought private.

Kinitarth’s eyes brightened a touch, seeing the familiar form of Mnereth approaching his ledge and trilled a tired greeting in return. It's all he can do to shimmy over, make as much room as he can for the larger blue. With his injury, he’s lounging in a less dignified manner. Wing splayed out a bit, the bandage unable to let him tuck it to his side. It’s a warm feeling in his hearts, and he gently nuzzles against the warm hide of Mnereth’s shoulder. Kinitarth has always been a talker, yet no words come readily to mind. The night had fallen, blanketing the Weyr in an odd silence for him. The stars glimmering in the great deep blue sky. Yet he pulls back, a gentle worry whirling into his eyes. You okay?

His gaze had diverted to his glass momentarily, watching the gentle movements of the wine slip and slide. It was rude to stare, after all. But worry nettles his heart, and there’s a gentle warmth of encouragement from Kini as he slowly comes to realize he just wants to try and ease the pain in K’lar.

...which is dashed at the reminder of Z’tir and Siloth. Of the guilt that came screaming back in that K’lar’s presence had quieted. Some little part of him is curious, of what had been trailed off from. Yet, all Sam’kel can do is set his wineglass down, rubbing the side of his neck nervously. How did he properly explain the sheer anxiety he’d held for so long? Of the perpetual survivor’s guilt that wanted to sink teeth in, despite that their wingleader was alive. It sounded inane to him, it would make himself look mad in K’lar’s graces.

...that wasn’t a thought he was expecting to hurt.

Not answering him doesn’t make the better impression, either. Kinitarth gently reminds him privately, yet his tone is soft, encouraging. Trying to banish the darker thoughts before they nest.

He clears his throat, the deeper rumble of smoke inhalation had lessened from when he had first landed. “We’re honestly a lot better than I expected.” It was about then he’d realized his hand was still on K’lar’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing small circles meant to soothe. His face reddened more than the bit of wine had allowed to bloom, grinning apologetically that didn’t quite meet his eyes. The phantom warmth in his hand is.. odd. Comforting in a way he isn’t sure he’s allowed to have.

“Had a close call with another dragon’s flame. Brieteth saved our hides then. I got a bit toasty, breathed too much in. The wind really knocked Kinitarth around and wrenched his shoulder, but healers said a few days of light gliding at most and he should be back to normal.” Was he avoiding the actual question? Yes. Sam’kel had stared death down in the face twice that day, and it’s a sinking feeling he tries to hide. “Z’tir and Siloth.. Faranth do I likely owe them our lives. That thing had been right over me..” Planting his elbow on the table, Sam scruffs a hand through his hair. Anything to distract from the odd turbulence of emotions. Yet he grins, if hollowly. “Can’t think of a time I was more relieved to see them reappear.”

Tsunake

<3?

 

[Tsunake]

The weight on his shoulder is a comforting one, and had it come from anyone but those select few he considered friends, K'lar would have shied away in an instant. As it is, he only sighed--and glanced over at Sam when the admission came. His lips twitched a little, feeling oddly flattered that someone felt that way. "Yes, well. I can say the same for you." Again, that heart-stopping moment when he though Sam'kel and Kinitarth were going to take that huge clump of thread directly...

K'lar didn't shudder, but it was a close thing.

Yes. The blue offered simply once more, slowly extending his neck to offer a nuzzle against the other's neck. We fought well. Though sad, loss was not expected. Such words were an understatement, but Mnereth never wasted words. In fact, he was proud that he could convey what he wanted in such a short manner. His whirling eyes took in his fellow blue's injuries, and Mnereth rumbled quietly again. He was glad that the damage was not worse.

It didn't take a genius to pick up on Sam's sudden shift in emotion, and K'lar turned to better face him with a frown. Surely the man wasn't blaming himself? But before he could think to prod, the man spoke again... and blushed in a way that was utterly, infuriatingly cute.

Shards and Shells.

He listened in silence, nodding quietly. His own face was still burned from the ash that had blown back at him, but fortunately, it was nothing serious. Only his pride was really wounded. "Me too." He admitted, pausing to take a draw from his glass. Once it had settled on the table once more, that same hand reached out to clap itself on Sam's shoulder.

"But even if they hadn't," He said slowly, staring directly at his fellow wingrider, "They would have died doing their job. You're a brililant wingrider, Sam'kel. Shards, you saved Mnereth and my hide out there. But you're only one man. You can't be--perfect." It galled him to say such a thing, he who prided himself on always appearing as though he had everything under control.

The greying rider closed his eyes for a moment, his head swimming pleasantly from the wine. "So. Don't blame yourself. Everything turned out all right--but even if it hadn't... things would have turned out alright." He didn't know what he was saying, but he vehemently opposed the thought of Sam'kel beating himself up for someone saving his life.

Back on the ledge, Mnereth sighed quietly. They need this. He confided to Kinitarth, feeling somewhat satisfied. It would be good, for both of Theirs.

Prism Shine

 

[Prism Shine]

The notion makes Sam’kel’s heart flutter some. It’s an odd feeling, and it's hard to not immediately want to dissect it. After all, K’lar’s relief could be taken in many ways. Death in the Weyr was never easy to handle, and it’s with resolve he doesn't quite linger on the possibility K’lar and Mnereth would have been lost. It had been bad enough losing Cheza and Zurath, but the flutter in his heart threatens to clench at the thought of---
No, no more. They were safe.

The offer was taken happily, Kinitarth nuzzling into that expanse of neck like a tired feline. The physical comfort from having Mnereth so close is one that he hadn’t realized would bring him such joy until Kini had the other dragon right there. Warm and close, and grounding after such a turbulent day. He extends his own neck as his head rests near the other dragon’s shoulders, hopeful to return the offer of physical comfort. I am glad you’re okay. And shards does he mean it, too. His crush would never come to light, never fruit--but the fact Mnereth was safe? It was good enough for him. Yet, he pauses, eyes whirling slowly as he contemplates. Fight well, fought bravely. Zurath would never dance upon the breeze with them again, and his many hued eyes take on a gentle sadness for it. No, not expected. But we fight, so there will be no more loss. Kinitarth relaxed against their side, shifting his injured joint slightly. He would do his best to be easy on it, so when thread fell again, he would be ready.

His hand idly picked at his glass as he had talked, but abandoned it as he jumps slightly at the clap on his shoulder--even as he saw it coming. But startle quickly turns into grounding under the other man’s palm, and the odd flitting in his chest both flusters and feels like he can’t fly away without the aid of dragons. A bit like a pinned firelizard, he imagines. His eyes flit gently over K’lar’s face, frown tightening briefly as he eyes the ash burns. At least it wasn't threadscore, yet internally he’d wanted to save his friend from the pain of it. Its an idle thought, yet resolute; he’d take on the brunt of thread if it meant keeping others from hurting. But as the other man started talking, Sam’kel was drawn in. The praise is.. unexpected. Sure, he had heard from their wingleader that they all did good jobs. He was a wingrider, he was important to protect the people of Pern who couldn’t protect themselves against the parasite.

The personal commendation has his throat tightening, however. Sure, he’d saved them--well, no. Sam’kel didn’t spit fire. Kinitarth had saved them. Z’tir and Siloth would have died in the line of duty, like their green sister had. Its an idle thought if he’s showing his cards more than he normally does--if wine were the cause, or just a small part of him wanted to show his hand a bit.
His eyebrows quirk slightly, near grimacing when he’d just tried to go for a smirk. That ability to keep everything pushed down was failing a bit in the face of someone actually seeing him. “Saved your hide, yet you got some good ashing.” Sam’kel’s eyes trailed once more over K’lar’s face, avoiding direct eye contact in the fear that the odd feeling in his chest might utterly break. A hand rubs over his own face, drink abandoned as he chuckled softly, humorlessly. If his fingers drew wetness from the corners of his eyes, well. Sam’kel drew no more attention to it. “I suppose you’re.. right though. Far flung from perfect, at the very least, ha.. But the world still marches on, and even if.. things had gone worse, they would still carry on.” On either side of that mark. Another day to fight thread, another day to protect the planet. Yet his mind is still full of festered thoughts, and he can almost be certain that his dreams would be reliving such horrendous events that the day had drawn.

“You feeling alright, K’lar? Or do I have cups to catch up to you?” Its a touch of levity and concern mixed together, trying to avoid thud in his heart. Deflect, deflect… Yet he raises his hand without much of a thought, touching the sensitive skin of his wrist to the other man’s forehead to see if he could catch a fever -- mindful of the burns, however.

They both do. Kinitarth gently sighs, somewhere in the middle of enjoying his snuggles and keeping gentle tabs of Sam’kel’s mental state. It would be a rage quietly at the night kind of evening elsewise, but with company? Perhaps it was high time his rider found comfort in those around him, and the gentle happiness that His could help Mnereth's as well.

Tsunake

 

[Tsunake]

The stocky blue did not respond verbally to that sentiment, but he opened his mind to allow his unfettered warmth roll back against his fellow. They were born and bred for this life, and though the loss of a companion was enough to make him want to keen again at the mere thought.... they had performed admirably. No, more so--they had protected Pern, protected the humans and dragons that called it home, despite Turns and Turns of peace. Unlike some of his brethren, Mnereth had easily accepted the return of Thread without blinking a multi-faceted eye. Come what may, he would be there to face it for His.

Sam's pitiful attempt at a smirk was enough to make him cluck his tongue. "Don't you start." He straightened himself up, putting on his best mock-offended expression. "It isn't every day I have men heroically rescuing me from inevitable danger. I admit, I was flustered enough that my wits were slowed!" K'lar didn't expect to suddenly feel the cool, soft skin pressing lightly to his brow, swallowing unconsciously to try and stave off the flush rising to his cheeks.

"Many cups." He agreed a bit faintly, reaching up to touch his greying temple, wondering just how much wine he had consumed. Surely that was why his head was suddenly spinning. "He lifted his own cup--but offered it to the younger rider instead, with an open smile. "So why don't you start catching up to me, huh? Faranth knows that we have plenty of hours in the day..."

And he didn't just spend his time willingly with anyone, you know.

It must have been the wine, he reasoned, because now he felt far too hot, to boot. "You think I'd learn, Sam'kel." He groused, reaching out to briefly drag his fingers across the man's forearm. "I can't hold my liquor, but it never stops me."

prism shine

short ahhh"

 

[Prism Shine]

His hearts ease from the loss and the exhaustion that sets in, feeling such warmth soak into him from the other dragon. It can’t quite be helped when his lids close slightly, allowing his own mind to open and share such warmth. They had performed quite well that day, and while one death was saddening.. They protected their home from thread, had allowed the day to be safe. Kinitarth knows this, just as he knows his hearts have no place here. But Mnereth is a good dragon, and he soaks up the warmth of such physical and mental comfort that he can for this moment--albeit a tad selfishly.

The admission makes Sam’kel start for a second, shifting slightly towards the other man as he’s clucked at--and Sam chuckled softly. Perhaps he was transparent tonight.. His knee finds the warmth of K’lar’s, and had to idly wonder if the man just.. radiated heat. Or was it that he felt too cold? Mysteries… “We’re in the same wing, I’m supposed to look out for you.” It was true, but his face heats all the same. The simple statement had left him soft, gentler than what was truth between wing members. His gaze lingers over them, at the red rising to their face to match the heat under his wrist, almost a tad lost in the other man. Perhaps his wine was catching up to him at last, or he was truly seeing just how attractive the older rider was.

But seeing that smile makes Sam’s heart stutter, and his own face rises to a redder shade.

Oh, very attractive..

His gaze dips to the offered cup. It would be rude to resist such an offer, wouldn’t it? “Plenty of hours, but I’ll catch up. No worries.” Sam offered a brighter smile this time, heart near fluttering. Gently, his hand cradles around K’lar’s around the cup, bringing the rim to his lips to drink. The wine is dry in his mouth, but the taste is sweeter than what’s left in his cup. Whether K’lar was drinking a different variety or the moment left a sweeter taste on his tongue was yet to be decided. Fingers across his arm pull his attention, and finally Sam pulls the cup away. His tongue chases away lingering drops, humming gently.

His own hand gently trails down the side of K’lar’s face, fingers gently brushing against soft hair. His whole body felt utterly too hot, yet Sam is entranced and rather unwilling to pull away quite yet. “What’s wrong with indulgence, K’lar?” Sam’kel’s thumb gently brushed over the man’s temple, suddenly finding the distance between them wasn’t quite so large. “Certainly not when it’s something you like..” Sam’s gaze flits between K’lar’s own gaze, to the other man’s lips, and back again.. before he finally sealed the dwindling distance, sealing his lips to K’lar’s.

Tsunake

<3

 

[Tsunake]

Far be it from selfish. Mnereth, too, was weary from this day, and Kinitarth's company was quite welcome. He took comfort in the presence of one who understood just what they had gone through. His hearts held nothing but fond, friendly feelings for his fellow wingmate... and he was oblivious to anything more. After a moment, the blue spread one wing out to gently rest it over his smaller friend before he allowed his eyes to begin to droop. He wouldn't fall quite asleep, not in case K'lar needed him... but he was very tired.

K'lar hadn't expected a hand to wrap around his own, watching with no little bit of enchantment as Sam easily lifted it to his mouth to drink. He was aware that he was staring, but in that instant, something about the wingrider seemed--different. K'lar was a man too obsessed with how he appeared to others to ever even consider that someone might actually... appreciate that.

For half a heartbeat, the older man forgot to breathe as calloused fingers slid with surprising gentleness down the side of this face. Was this truly happening? Had he already passed out and was having a very realistic, if pleasant dream? The words were a muted buzz in his ears, and suddenly, Sam'kel was kissing him.

The cup fell from his hand and was forgotten as K'lar wrapped an arm with surprising strength around the younger man, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. His head was absolutely swimming with hazy heat, but if this moment stopped too soon, he was fairly certain he might just die.

Prism Shine

 

[Prism Shine]

With a softer exhale, Kinitarth near sighs as he adjusts. Angling himself so that if Mnereth needs to, he can leave without being hindered by Kinitarth’s own body. The other blue was warm, and he was exhausted after this trying day. A gentle noise, a rumble more like a purr, rises from his throat as he feels a wing cover him. It was a deep feeling of safety, one that had his exhausted eyelids finally beginning to slip shut until he was out like the last rays of daylight.

Wine had definitely played a bigger part in boosting Sam’kel’s confidence. Never would he have had the drive to actually chase after an attraction to his wingmember, instead pine from afar as his last heart’s desire had gone. His own dark fettered thoughts are nothing compared to the entranced look in K’lar’s eyes as he drank from the other’s cup--the stunned response from his gentle touch down his face. Something curled in Sam’kel, pleased and preening that he could cause that kind of reaction in anyone, but the fact that it was K’lar…

What he never expected was that kind of reaction out of the older rider.

The cup is all but forgotten, the noise ruffling out of him more akin to a squeak than a hum as he’s pulled in closer. Sam’kel’s arm slipped up, fingers threading through the older man’s hair, making the unkempt locks even more mussed. He near melts as the kiss deepens, his other hand cradling the side of his head. The man’s kiss is heady, and what little thoughts that had flooded Sam’kel’s mind of any semblance of being seductive is gone in an instant. The younger man kisses like he’s had his breath stolen once more that day--and K’lar may be his final hint of air. Sooner than he would have liked, he pulled away--only enough to catch a breath, heavily addicted to the man’s warmth. Close enough that it wouldn’t take much to kiss him once more. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now..”

Tsunake