Poking the Pit

[kevna]

A few days after:Heat of the Vase

Siorreya - Green Amagetith; Kekoa - Candidate

She looked up, angling her head and narrowing her eyes. “Will you stop that?” She growled, interrupting the quiet music and the man playing it. Winter was so much more boring than spring, summer, and even fall. It was hard to do much of anything outside, and so often she found herself either in the Glasscraft hall, or wandering around the caves of the Weyrhold, or drawing, as was the case now. The man’s face twisted. “It’s hard not to look at you when you are so obviously distressed.”

Her eyebrows shot up and she huffed. “I am. It’s because you keep moving. I thought you said you could play in one position for multiple candlemarks.”

“Ah, yes, but it is made extremely difficult by your blinding beauty and suppressed fury. I feel like you are going to pounce at any moment.” He had stopped playing his gitar and propped himself up on the couch he had been laying on with one elbow so he could look at her more directly, raising an eyebrow. His change in position had her growling again, throwing her half-done sketch aside and throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“You are unbelievable.” She puffed, folding her arms.

“Something I like about you Sio, is that you wear your heart on your sleeve. When you are happy, you are happy, and when you are angry you are scary.” His comment was made so simply and naturally, that it took her a moment to realize he was reading her. He could tell. But how?She looked at him sideways from her position on the chair. The weyr commons was bustling with the normal activity, but they were in a corner, unbothered, and seemingly alone. Their conversation would be hard to listen in to with the flurry of activity.

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m fine.” Her voice was stiff.

“See, you can’t even lie well.”

“Are you trying to make me angry? Because it’s working.” She snarled, and Kekoa put his gitar down and waved his hands in supposed surrender.

“I’m just trying to figure out what has got a thorn in your side.” He sat up and leaned back in the couch, slinging his arm over the back of the couch. His golden-brown eyes sought to dissect her, and she stiffened. “I like it better when you are trying to get me into your bed.” She muttered, looking away from the searching eyes.

“Well, I could go back to that… I really wouldn't mind you pouncing on me.” His lips curved up sensually, and he leaned forward, placing his arms on his knees. He looked like he was about to pounce. Her eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed angrily. He had been trying to get a reaction, and she doubted he had missed his success.

“Ah, see, that’s what I thought.” His voice had turned thoughtful, and he leaned back into the couch again, resuming his arm-slung position. It accented his chest nicely, and she wondered if he knew it, and thus so sat so. Probably. “I've been very patient dear flower, I thought some music would help, I was even quiet, letting you think and sketch, but I still feel the tension rolling off you in waves.” She rolled her eyes, and opened her mouth to snap at him, but he raising his free hand up to stop her. It didn't. "You wouldn't stop moving! You were like a child unable to stay still.

He ignored her words. “A lesser man would think it was because you were unhappy with his earlier, directed flirting. But I think it’s because the flirting reminded you of something, seeing as the flirting was some of my top-notch material.” He tilted his head at her, smiling softly despite his words.

Siorreya sought to slow the racing of her heart and the smooth her face. “Really, Kekoa, it could just be your flirting. I find it lacking.” Her words were sharper then her tone, and she shook her head. It didn’t seem to cut him. “Tell, me what’s bothering you, my sunny flower. Is it your man?”

His voice was so soft, so gentle, but the words rocked her. A small gasp escaped, and she looked over at Kekoa, glaring balefully, a sneer on her lips. “I don’t have a man.”

“Really? What about that soft kissing gentleman?” She hadn’t mentioned him since their first meeting, and she was shocked he remembered the conversation. She hadn’t brought him up again. Not with anyone. She made to stand, shaking her head.

“Did I say he was a gentleman? I take it back if I did." Her words were biting, too much so, so she tried to brush it off. "He was nothing, a no one.” She snapped as she rose to her feet, her hands making a sharp motion, even as she readied herself to flee the conversation. This was not fun. When Kekoa had teased her, it had brought that pit in her stomach back, but she hadn’t thought she was being so obvious about it. She had just expected it to go away, and if Kekoa hadn’t been poking the pit, it would have. Why did men have to be so sharding difficult?

“Wait.” He moved lightning fast, his hand snaking out and catching hold of hers, and he pulled her to him. Stiffly, she stood before him, and he sat on the edge of the couch, caressing her hand. “If you really don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. Do you want me to make you feel better, at least for a little while?” His eyes never left hers, even as his lips teased the skin of her hand, and then her wrist. She understood what he offered. She could even understand the point of it. Siorreya found herself tempted.

Kekoa was very plainly open and honest about his interests, and how fleeting they were. He wasn’t looking for an attachment, he was just overing to give her something else to think about. If the pit in her stomach wasn’t making her feel nauseous, if giving in wouldn’t appear like weakness, maybe she would have. His hand turned hers over, his mouth tracing over the sensitive skin of her inner wrist until she pulled away. He let go just as quickly as he had grabbed her. “I don’t need you to make me feel better. I’m fine. I… I just feel a little sick, that’s all. There’s nothing else going one, despite what you may think. It's all in that grandiose, delusional head of yours.” Her voice was firm, then maybe a little sarcastic, which she tried to twist to teasing; she just couldn’t help it when she was feeling defensive.

“I’m going to join Ama in that nap after all.” She gathered her sketching materials and walked away. He hadn’t said anything, had just let her leave. She hoped she had been convincing, but even now as she walked away she could feel his keen gaze on her retreating figure. She would have to avoid him for the next few days, just until this moodiness was over. It still felt so fresh though, as if she had just come out of the fire, and the heat still made her glow. She had expected some relief by now. It was starting to affect Amagetith, and now that others could pick up on it? She should have let Kekoa have her. Maybe she still would, just later, when the pit was gone and she was reveling in the anger or the relief stage.