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Harper's Tale 2 - Tuesday, October 29, 2002, 

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The Vor Imperium
Grey granite vaults upwards to form the high cathedral ceiling of the main part of the weyr, cool, solid and undecorated. Refracted light sparkles from the quartz veins streaking walls carved partially by the hand of man, partially the forces of volcanism. The standard large raised couch is located off to one side, sheltered from the winds of the short access tunnel. The wall across from it houses a massive 'hearth'. A braided rug, quartet of elderly 'chairs' and a wine-crate-turned-coffee-table stand in front of that, while pegs and shelving appear alongside. Near the back, the ceiling height drops rapidly, a demarcation between human areas and draconic. Heavy 'curtains' in a conservative pattern provide privacy to the 'inner weyr', drawn back partially to permit glimpses of the mystery within.
Masculine and feminine mix in an equal partnership of fine whiskey and subtle cologne, citrus and redwort, all against the cool backdrop of ancient stone.
On the ledge, you see a blue dragon.
Peering from a crevasse in the wall are two firelizards.
You see Grey Leather Satchel, Old Marble Chess Set, Lianta's Forest of Fangorn, Hearth, and Chairs here.
You notice Lianta asleep here.
Obvious exits:
Inner Weyr     Ledge     Shadow'd Crevasse

Wyn is at home. Wyn has noticed the desecration of her weyr, and the removal of all scatter pillows from therein. Wyn, however, is oddly serene about the whole thing, seated in one of the freshly-righted chairs by the hearth, with a snifter of good brandy in one hand. The weyr is already back in perfect order... one of the advantages of being a bit of an ascetic. Lianta is out, and the little bluerider has the look of one not expecting company.

Expecting or not, Wyn's getting. Company, that is. In the form of a rather shy N'sync, who ducks nervously into the weyr, one hand smoothing down his hair (which looks supiciously neat) and the other tucked behind his back. "Wyn...?" he calls tremulously.

"Come in and take a seat," calls Wyn back, not looking up from the leaping flames while she ponders various forms of Doooooom to be inflicted upon pillow-stealing Candidates. "Care for some brand-- oh!" She looks almost startled for a moment, not expecting to see N'sync, much less a shy one. After a pause, she finishes, carefully. "Care for some brandy, N'sync?"

N'sync shakes his head as he steps forward, slowly. "No... no, I'm fine," he states with a short glance around her weyr. "Didn't.. didn't you used to have pillows?" he questions with a wrinkled brow before he shakes his head, steps forward, and then, like a child presenting weeds to his mother, extends a fresh bouquet of flowers that only Southern could produce - it wouldn't be surprising if Wyn had caught their strong frangrance even before they appeared.

"The Candidates have them now." sums up Wyn with a brief twitch of her lips and a delicate sip of her brandy, before her eyes widen at the flowers. She's not the sort of woman to fall gladly upon them, squealing, but there's a little intake of breath from the bluerider, before she schools her features to cool steadiness once again. "Lovely." she pronounces. "Why...?"

N'sync's expression eases slightly with Wyn's intake of breath - a small sign, but all he needed. "Because.." He pauses and clear his throat, stepping forward to stand directly in front of her. His hands are still outstretched, offering the flowers as he speaks, softly. "Because I want to be very clear about what I'm accepting, here, and why," he explains.

Wyn's free hand moves out to accept the bouquet, and then, with grey eyes suddenly dark with questions, closes just short of them. It remains extended as she gives the brownrider a guarded look, though. "And what..." she asks, pausing cautiously. "Are you accepting, and why?"

N'sync seems remarkably confident in his words, given his earlier appearance, and he crouches downward to bring himself to her eye level. "A chance to prove to you that I'm serious about this. And that I'm not what you think I am. Because I think that it's as important for you to give this a chance as it is for me to try." He pauses, fixing brown eyes on grey ones. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Wyn. I just want a chance."

Grey eyes search brown eyes for hints of guile, Wyn's expression still distantly guarded as she considers the matter, the brownrider, past history and future possibilties, moving only to take another sip from her snifter. Finally, she sets the glass aside on the end table, and stills again. And the distance in her expression fades slightly, as she permits herself a little nod, and accepts the flowers. "...Let it never be said." she offers quietly. "That I didn't give you a chance. One week." she murmurs.

N'sync nods, the movement no more than a slight incline of his head as her glass is set aside and flowers are removed from his grasp. "A chance... is all I'm asking." Many lesser souls would falter here, wondering what to do with the offer so glibly laid before him less than a sevenday ago. N'sync, however, has far too much experience - and has dreamed about this far too many times - to waste this moment. His head inclines forward with the intent of renewing that teasing kiss she'd left him with - and pushing it much, much further.

"Then that's what you'll receive." murmurs Wyn, low alto tones a trifle more hoarse than usual, before she inhales and wraps one hand behind his head, raising her face to his, and leaning herself into the embrace with a fierceness one wouldn't suspect from one so controlled. The lovely bouquet of flowers is quite forgotten by this time, clutched loosely in her remaining free hand and in danger of being crushed.

N'sync has quite forgotten about whatever gesture the flowers were meant to represent - and for all his talk about wanting Wyn to get to know him, he doesn't seem to object in the least to having her in his arms, clutched tightly in an embrace that promises a very entertaining night to come. Maybe... in the morning... he'll show her a new side of him. Tonight, he's interested in a side she's already seen. His lips angle over hers, deepening the kiss, and his own arms sweep around her until thought ceases, and there is only sensation.

**Fade to Black**