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Harper's Tale 2 - Sunday, June 30, 2002, 2:03 PM

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The Inner Weyr
A small space, one perhaps might even term it cozy when the curtains are drawn closed to wall off the massive outer weyr, leaving a cool blank wall of the off-white sail canvas. Furnishings are simple, but with a calm elegance that speaks of good taste, even in the complete absence of ostentation. A bed rests in one corner, designed for two, therefore leaving its single petite occupant ample room to sprawl. The thick mattress is covered with linens in a crisp white, edged with black piped ribbon and topped by a duvet in a ghost-grey cover. Pillows are abundant and fluffy, and underfoot, a soft carpet in greys, creams and blues shields feet from cold stone floors, as small glows in wall sconces provide a muted, intimate glow. A dresser and endtable are clean lined, wood covered in black laquer. The entire space is crafted as a somatic delight, a carefully selected indulgence by its ascetic owner.

Alain shifts a little--he's not asleep really, just dozing with one arm, thrown across the bed, probably around a Wyn, and the other resting palm-down on his chest. For a moment it looks like he's going to wak--er--stop dozing, but he just shifts a little, and settles back into that nice deep doze.

Wyn is awake and even fairly alert, curled comfortably under Alain's arm, one hand clasping his and the other trapped by a lightly-pillowed head. Wyn rarely drowses, switching smoothly from sleep to waking with little pause in between, but Wyn is.. calm. And far too comfortable to care much about moving, although she moves her feet out of the way as Jack the feline returns and reclaims her spot at the foot of the bed. She just watches Alain doze, shifting a little more to pillow her head on his shoulder instead.

Wyn's shifting has a bit of a surprising effect. Alain jerks a little and comes awake with a start, blinking quickly down at Wyn. After a moment of peering at her, the inevitable recognition comes and he sinks back into a relaxed state again. "Morning." he murmurs, yawning widely and stretching his arms and legs, likely much to Jack's chagrin, before flopping back on the pillows again and dragging Wyn over to lie flush against him.

Oh, we don't want to upset Jack. Jack has claws, a taste for human blood, and the nickname The Beast From The Catacombs attached to her. Fortunately, Jack is feeling playful, and merely attempts to pounce on the shape of a foot moving under the covers with a cheerful growl, and then drops off the radar to go frighten Vorkoroth, as Wyn sighs slightly, and lets herself be pulled into a proper cuddle. "Good morning yourself," she greets quietly, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose, before yawning herself. Contagious things, yawns. "Want breakfast, before we sneak back down to Ista?" she inquires, not making a move to leave the bed.

Alain shakes his head, "I'm not hungry." And don't ask him when he eats. It's a secret. "Are you hungry? We could get you something if you like." he offers, ever the gentleman, even when cuddling in bed with a girl that's...not technically his--by any stretch of the imagination. "Feline or tunnelsnake stew? Or if you're really hungry I recommend omlettes." he chuckles, glancing around for his own gold pest and glad to find her missing.

Wyn, if you think about it, probably only keeps one male around that she'd not swat for referring to her as 'his'. And he's big, blue, and currently out on the ledge, no longer sulking, although Alain likely doesn't know that. But the lucky Alain is at least a step or five above her usual flings in the hierarchy. They don't get cuddles. "Mmm, I'm just fine," she allows with a friendly purr, resting herself on top of his chest so that she can prop herself on her arms and regard him more easily. "So... when's your first class that I have to sneak you back by...? I've decided that you were here on the very official business of bringing me some scrolls that I requested." she allows, fashioning an albi even as her hands lightly caress the planes of his chest.

Alain wriggles his shoulders a little as her fingers splay across his skin, and shrugs a little, "I have to teach a class around midday. Ah, the joys of being senior." he heaves a mockingly ecstatic sigh, and then chuckles softly, moving a hand to trail his fingers through her hair. He regards her for a long moment, then a little grin makes the corners of his mouth twitch and he asks, "Hey, aren't you supposed to punch me now or something?" Maybe old habits really do die hard.

Wyn's eyes sparkle a quick and mischevious silver, as one hand removes itself from Alain's chest, balls into a fist, and then, in slow-motion, is sent towards his jaw in a playfully-pulled roundhouse that lands with about the force of a swatting kitten. Her own lips twitch, and she cocks an eyebrow teasingly. "Tradition taken care of?" she inquires.

Alain rolls his eyes, slipping both his arms around her waist and dragging her up to plant a firm, warm, somewhat moist kiss on her lips. He nods a little, tilting his head to nibble at her jaw for a moment, then sighs and drops his head back to the pillow, arms still lightly about her waist. "I probably should be back." he murmurs, eyes travelling once around the room, likely to spot his clothes, before returning to Wyn's face. "I hate to eat and run..."

"I figured as much," agrees Wyn with her usual logic, after a suitably warm response to the kissing. "Well, how about you let me locate wherever my leathers landed last night, and Vor and I will blink you back home," she allows, sitting up and straddling him a moment, letting her hand cup his jaw as she, too, surveys the room for shed clothing. "Jack, get off that." she orders, spotting her tunic sporting a ginger-feline adornment. Jack blinks innocently. Make me.

Alain chuckles slightly, hands sliding to her waist as she moves away, but not quite leaving her skin, yet. An evil little glint shows in his eye, though, and he quirks a brow up at her, murmuring, "Well, we should have done this last night, too." Ahem. Apparently three times just isn't enough. He shoots her a grin, though, and wrinkles his nose a little, "Actually, I'm amazed at your patience--I know I'm hard to deal with sometimes."

Wyn offers another wickedly off-colour smile, before looking demure and giving a pristine little comment of "I suppose it will simply have to wait 'til next time..." Innocent blink, which then turns rapidly evil before she leans down to deliver a sound kiss, slipping out of the bed afterwards to pad across the floor with a lazy grace, hunting down bits of her clothing in her unashamed skin while offering a quick, soft little smile. "Well, that may be... But I like you. So therefore I can put up with you. After all, I try my hardest to be obnoxiously serene."

Alain rolls over onto his side as Wyn dismounts (sorry, I couldn't resist) and props his head up on his hand, watching her move about the room. "Well you're not." he states after a suitable pause. "Obnoxious I mean...serene, yes...obnoxious, not really. Besides, you punched me once, remember? I'll probably never think of you as serene for the rest of your life." And after that the little evil glint returns, "And where did you learn to make noises like that?"

Wyn has her back to Alain, currently engaged in picking a breastband off of a protuberance in the rock that it stuck on and dangled from after impact. She turns to look over her shoulder, favouring him with a rare, and fleeting grin. Punch him for that last comment? Why, that would be so... expected. And Wyn loathes being predictable after all. So she simply grins, and offers an airy "Benden Weyr, my dear Alain." before slipping into her underthings and continuing her hunt for her leathers.

Alain would fall of the bed if he were sitting up. Good think he's not sitting up. But he does burst out laughing, shaking his head and scrambling to his feet. Trousers are duly gathered and donned, along with his shoes and tunic, before he turns back to Wyn. "Is it safe to go out there?" he asks, a good rest seeming to have diminished his shock of being mentally assaulted by a large blue dragon.

Wyn wriggles into her leather breeches, the motion analogous to that of a woman donning a pair of clingy Levi's, before shrugging her jacket on, and pulling on a pair of polished boots, buffing a spot on the tip of one with a sleeve as she laughs and assures that "It's quite all right, Alain. " And here her smile turns a little amused, in a warped way. "He has a tendancy to listen in, in intimate moments. And he approved of you."

Alain facefaults, gives Wyn one of those, 'you really didn't have to tell me that' looks, and murmurs, "Great...I made love to a dragon...three times in one night. Faranth. What'll they think of next." He shuffles toward the door, pulling the curtain aside and waiting for Wyn to go through first. "You know, next time..." and he trails off, shaking his head, seeming at a bit of a loss after all.

Wyn quickly brushes her hair into its usual precise order, before giving Alain a serene smile. "And here I thought you were all keen on the idea of threesomes..." she drawls, quickly ducking out the curtains before he can swat her. Wyn is quite aware of the fact that, draconic memories being what they are, Vorkoroth won't remember a thing about the actual *ahem* details. But Alain's so cute when he's squirming.

Alain steps through the arch after Wyn, shaking his head and muttering under his breath, then adding louder, "And for your information, that is not my idea of a good time. I'm not really into that, you know." Threesomes and all, he means, of course. "So is that why riders weyrmate? So you can have merry little foursomes all the time?" but he grins just to prove he's at least half way joking.

"Something like that," agrees Wyn with a light laugh, before whirling and planting a teasing kiss on Alain. "You should stick around for a flight some day." she winks, drawing back and continuing along the tunnelway, relenting at last and turning her head with a soft smile. "But to be honest, I'm teasing you. He was listening, but not participating, saw only my side of things, and thanks to the gaps of a dragon memory, doesn't remember a thing except that he now considers you fit company for me. So be easy. My dragon isn't a pervert."

Alain coughs lightly, something that sounds suspiciously like 'that makes one of you' but just grins innocently as he follows Wyn the rest of the way out onto the ledge. "Just remind me to bring a jacket or something next time we're going to hop through the coldest reaches of existance on my way home, eh?"

You head out to Vorkoroth's Staging Area.

**TRAVEL SPAM**

You glide gracefully down to the Courtyard.

Slithering down the straps-ladder, Wyn slides from Vorkoroth's neck and gently touches earth.

Hynolonie walks down some steps which lead to the great doors and the Hold.

Alain slides down Vorkoroth's shoulder, too--even if it didn't look like it *cough*--and lands with a little spring. He turns, wrapping his arms around the bluerider and hugging her tightly. "Come back and see me again some time, huh? If you ever get bored and decide that three's a better number than two." Ahem ahem. He steps back, grinning at her with a wrinkle of his nose.

Nezdarvyth goes home.

Hynolonie slams the hold doors behind her. She wasn't realy trying. Honest. Its the wind. The proof that she wasn't trying to slam the doors closed is that she jumps and blinks at the doors like they were trying to bite her. "Bah!" Something along the lines of idiot girl anyway spills off her lips as she tugs her shoulderstraps on her sack a little tighter. She spies Alain and Wyn and waves to them a bit before beginning a march across the courtyard, ready to make a long journey in the rain.

Wyn returns the hug with a little smile, likely causing death from shock in anyone witnessing the scene who happens to know the bland ex-Healer, before she begins to casually pad towards the doors, rather like her feline in her thoughts about rain. "I'll certainly do, Alain," she assures. "And... let me know when you're due to get a Journeyman's knot, hmm?" Ahem as well? "But go on, teach your class. I think I'll hang about the Hold and try and scare Jathen." A wave to Lonie, before she ducks into the Hold.

Alain rolls his eyes after the bluerider, offers Lonie an enthusiastic--though passing--wave, and jogs up the stairs into the hold.

Alain walks up a few small steps and passes into the Hold through the great doors.