Tottering & Feverish [Pod/Zen]

[Zen]

Podrell

“Honestly… do you really think that poorly of me that I wouldn’t be at all concerned about someone else’s wellbeing?” he asked, mildly affronted when she didn’t seem to understand why he might care about her health. Of course there was more to it than a casual concern for a fellow human, but he wasn’t about to admit that to her. Perhaps that spoke more to how much she felt about him, in the end. Which was apparently not at all. Well, he envied her if that was the case. If all she felt for him was some base lust, she was lucky. At least she wouldn’t care when this ended. This… whatever this was.

Her weak pushing against his chest was futile but if it would help wear her out so she would sleep sooner, she could keep at it all she wanted. He didn’t really know what to say, for once, when she pointed out that he didn’t really have a right to a say in the matter. There was no real reason his opinion on how she should be taking care of herself should matter. She may be acting like a child but she was a grown woman capable of making her own choices… even if they were bad ones. He was… nothing to her. So why did he get a say? He could come up with several excuses that would probably make her angry, or annoyed at the least, but he was trying to get her to calm down, not rile her up further. He sighed, “I just believe that everyone deserves to be taken care of when they’re ill. I’m sorry that the concept seems to offend you so.” At his mock apology, his tone took on a note of sarcasm despite his best efforts.

A soft, genuine laugh escaped him at her muttering, and he managed a bit more of a heartfelt teasing, “Perhaps I’d be more enthusiastic if you didn’t look like death warmed over.” He hadn’t really thought about it until now, but he imagined if she was well they’d both be naked by now. That’s how it seemed to go with them when they were alone, anyway. He shook his head slightly; it was easy enough to banish such thoughts, sex was the furthest thing from his mind right now.

She seemed to consider the options, which was surprising. She’d avoided truth every time so far, besides the one time he’d dared her to pick it. Then again, with how sick she was, he could see why she might hesitate to choose an action. Was she actually showing some sense for once? That was the real surprise. Her refusal to pick dare drew another soft laugh from him, “What a relief, it seems your fever hasn’t completely melted your brain yet if you could still figure that out. Perhaps there’s hope for recovery after all.” His arms relaxed around her just a little as she wrapped her own arm around his waist, resting her head against his chest, but he found it a bit hard to believe she had really given up on her endeavor to get out of bed so he didn’t drop his guard completely.

So she chose truth, and he was left wondering with some amusement what sorts of questions might get him ‘shoved between’. He wasn’t sure if the most pressing question in his mind would count or not, but he supposed he would soon find out. “...Why are you afraid to see a healer?” he asked softly after a moment’s hesitation. He wasn’t sure it was something he should ask her right now, if it had something traumatic attached to it. Her reactions to him wanting to fetch one to see her had seemed a bit extreme. If it ended up upsetting her too much, perhaps she’d let him change the question.

kevna

[kevna]

Siorreya - Green Amagetith

Podrell hadn’t seemed concerned when Asirikai had led her away from the feast, and yet every occurrence Asirikia and she had had with him, Pod had ended up getting between them. As if protecting her from his uncle. So, what had changed? From before the feast, to the feast, and then to now? “Honestly, I don’t know what to think of you!” She responded asking her head; the edge of panic laced with exasperation of her own.

She noted his sigh, and while he may have started off genuine, his apology was derisive, and she couldn’t help but respond in kind. “How magnanimous.” Her own sarcasm just as apparent. She couldn’t understand the pain in her chest when he’d mentioned that everyone deserved to be taken care of. How often did he find himself in this situation? And why did she care? Her struggles were fewer and farther inbetween, the feel of his arms continuing to soothe her. They were stalwart and secure.

His gentle laugh only seemed to put her more at ease, and she felt a responding curve of her own lips. “At least I still look better then you.” She said lightly, turning her face away to let out a cough the tickling in her throat had instigated. She was giving as well as she got, even if she knew it wasn’t true. He looked as handsome as she remembered. Asirikai had been wrong at least with that, she was glad he hadn’t broken his nose or scarred Podrell’s ‘pretty face,’ as he had said.

Sio enjoyed the feeling of his laugh under her head after her refusal for a dare, the rumbling sounded funny beneath his chest, even if he was mocking her more. She angled her head up to look at him, glaring. “I curse you with this illness, oh ye the tormenter. Let’s see how fever feels on your brain.” Then she pursed her lips and blew air up toward his face in an effort to share her germs. She had felt him relax his hold on her, and she had a moment of temptation. If she was at full strength and agility, she probably could roll out of his arms and be on the floor before he realized her intention of escape. She had little hope for that in this sharding condition, so she gave in and focused on preparing herself mentally for the question.

She hadn’t been that subtle she supposed, but it didn’t stop her from stiffening in his arms again. Out of all the questions he could ask, that was what he had chosen? Her fear of healers? She angled her head down to make it more difficult for him to see her face. She didn’t fear talking about healers, but the basis of the fear was personal. No one, except maybe the old headwoman at Benden weyr knew… Why did he care anyway? She forced herself to relax taking a deep breath. She could pass on this round as he had… She didn’t want to. What would a little personal information hurt?

She sighed, "I learned at a young age that where healers work, death follows.” She tried to shrug, but it was awkward in her position, so ended up just using the shoulder of the arm wrapped around him. She cleared her throat. “My mother was attended by many healers, yet she still managed to die, and she did it alone. I don’t… Want it to happen to me.” Her voice was short and she had to work not to say the last through clenched teeth, which was a mistake because it set off another bout of coughing. She turned her head farther down and her legs attempted to curl up as the violent attack shook her body. When it had subsided, she left on leg on top of his, and took a moment to appreciate the pain in her ribs. It also gave her an excellent reason to be as stiff again and holding her breath, waiting for his response. Would he think her weak? Pity her?

“Your turn. Truth or dare?”

[Zen]

Podrell

“Honestly, I don’t know what to think of you!”

Well. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He thought back on all the interactions they had had since his arrival at Mavros, trying to consider them from her perspective instead, and realized just how very confusing his actions had been when taken altogether. Inconsistent, as she had said. But that meant she probably had no idea how he really felt, which was for the better. He preferred her confused to knowing the truth. His feelings were his problem and there was no reason to give her what he was sure would only be more fodder for their banter. She returned his sarcasm, which he honestly expected, but was happy enough to let that particular subject die.

“Pff,” he made an amused sound, not quite a laugh, at her retort and rose a brow at her, turning her own insult back on her, “If that’s the case then you have incredibly odd taste in men.” If he looked worse than a sick Siorreya then that said more about her for her attraction to him. Any denial of her attraction would be a flat out lie, considering how quickly things turned intimate between them. Suddenly she was looking up at him and he had a moment to roll his eyes at her ‘curse’ before she was suddenly blowing up at him and he turned his face away in disgust, “Were you not taught basic manners as a child? Shells. Perhaps I’ll bring you some mint tea later, ungrateful woman. If anyone is the tormenter here it’s you, taking advantage of my compassion. I can hardly retaliate against an invalid.”

He felt her go a bit rigid at his question, so he was surprised at how easily she answered. But it seemed to him she was trying too hard to be casual about it, particularly since her aversion apparently had something to do with her mother’s death. “I see…,” he murmured, to acknowledge her, mostly. He wasn’t really sure what else he could say. It had happened many turns ago and he doubted she would appreciate generic platitudes about it. A young age, she said. He wondered just how young. A childhood trauma like that would certainly explain what he had considered unnecessary panic.

He couldn’t relate. He’d never lost anyone he was particularly close to, and certainly not during childhood when the loss would be deeper felt. Was that why she was so wild, because she didn’t have any parental guidance growing up? He realized how little he really knew about her. Had her father been there? He was pretty sure she was weyrborn, he had learned that about her at some point, hadn’t he? Or maybe he only inferred it because she was a dragonrider now. He wasn’t sure. There were plenty more things he wanted to ask her, but he’d already used his truth and he doubted she would be very forthcoming outside of their game.

She fell into another coughing fit when she’d finished her explanation and he frowned. Would she turn down medicine if he brought her some? With her so close, he could feel the heat radiating off her. Surely she would at least drink an herbal tea? Something to help bring down her fever and soothe her cough. Absently, one of his hands rubbed gently at her back in a slow motion, his voice soft, “I’m no healer, so will you at least stop fighting my care? I just want to help you, Siorreya. I… if you don’t want my help, I’d be happy to get someone you’d prefer instead…. I think we agree on one point, at least. No one should be alone when they’re sick.” He wished she would just let him take care of her. It was the least he could do after he’d left her to Asirikai’s mercy. Shells, in his concern for her he’d about forgotten.

She was apparently ready to continue their game, and he sighed lightly, unhappy with his options. He didn’t particularly want to be forced to admit anything to her and yet he could hardly complete any dares right now if he wanted to ensure she remained resting in bed. He could just continue to lose but it irked him to think about. He couldn’t make winning so easy for her. He’d already given her one round ahead of him. The last truth she had asked him hadn’t been anything terrible… perhaps she would stick with that line of questions. “Truth, I suppose,” he finally answered, half curious and half dreading what sort of question she might ask.

kevna

[kevna]

Siorreya - Green Amagetith

Odd taste? Her smile widened, and her nose scrunched. “I can live with that.” She was a green rider, with a dragon like Amagetith. Odd might as well have been her middle name. All the better to keep Pod a little more humble. She shivered and pressed further into him. She was deriving too much comfort from him, but it was all physical, she tried to convince herself. 

It was his own fault when she cursed him; he was egging her on. Her curse seemed to have the desired affect as he rolled his eyes and turned his face away in disgust. She let out an amused sound at his words directed at her affront. “First: of course not, I never sat anywhere long enough to have been taught them. I mean did you see what I did to Knox for cutting in front of me during evening meal, all those turns ago?” She couldn’t remember if he had been there that year or not, but she had sneakily snuck purple dye into his 'special dark sand, just for his hair' and effectively turned his hair, and part of his face (not at all part of her plan, but a nice side effect), purple for a whole month. “If I had known, ‘please don’t do that, Knox’ was an option, lives would be that much duller. Thank goodness I have no manners to speak of.” She smirked, still proud of that prank and that she had gotten away with it, at least with the masters. She was sure other’s had figured it out. “And second; you are the one forcing me to accept your ‘compassion,’ and it’s torture.” But she couldn’t stop the smile and the eyebrow raise she directed at him. “Oh, and third; if you call me an invalid again, you won’t make it out of this bed alive.” She really tried for a serious face. Really.

As lighthearted as their teasing was, and as fun as it was, it didn’t stop her from feeling the guilt. She was going to pick truth, and he knew it, hence their back and forth, but her assumption was he’s ask her about Asirikai. She wondered if it would hurt him, knowing they had kissed. Or would it make him angry? Would he leave then? Her assumption was incorrect, surprisingly, and once the uncomfortable part of giving her truth was over, and the nasty coughing fit, he surprised her again. His simple ‘I see,’ was thoughtful, but not condescending, nor did she detect any pity from him. Just simple thoughtfulness. What, that was it?

Surprise segued into the general confusion that was her constant companion when she was with Podrell, as he laid out his seemingly earnest request. She tilted her head back up to see him more clearly, and that other companion, the pucker between her eyes when her eyebrows descended, joined in. Was he done with her again? Was he trying to make his escape by asking if there was someone else she’d be willing to have take care of her? Or did he really just want her comfortable? Maybe he was just trying to manipulate her into saying that she wanted him to stay. She did, though. She wanted him to stay.

“Okay…” She said slowly again, nodding just as slowly. The way his hand rubbed her back had her melting into him, and it was a little embarrassing how good it felt. “I’ll try not to fight you, but no promises. You bring out the fight in me.” She gave him a lopsided smile. He really did know how to push all her buttons. “I’d rather you not bring anyone else into this, I’m comfortable enough with you.” That seemed like a safe enough way to beg him to stay and keep her dignity over being afraid to be left alone in this state. Plus, it was the truth. He was very comfortable, literally.

Both her eyebrows rose when he picked truth, and she had to take advantage of it. “Afraid to lose another dare?” She smirked, and then chewed on her lip in thought. She needed to see his face better to ask this question, and so she slowly got up on the elbow beneath her, moving her arm from around his waist to his chest to prop her into the best visual position. A shiver ran through her at the position change. Would the fever ever give? She contemplated a moment more, the hand on his chest moving up and her fingers moved as if to brush over the split in his lip. “Why did you start a fight with Asirikai?” She asked softly, her eyes monitoring for an expression. Her question was a gamble; If Asirikai lied about the whole thing, then it was a waste of a question, and it would give much of her away. It would either way, surely. But if Asirikai was telling the truth, then she cut to the heart of the matter in one fell swoop, which is why her wording was so direct. Or so she hoped.

[Zen]

Podrell

Of course having odd tastes suited her just fine. Conventional Siorreya was not, and Podrell was sure if he said she was she would be happy to argue otherwise against the insult. When she pressed against him a bit more, he drew his arms a little tighter around her without really thinking about it. She then launched into a bit of a tirade that he was somewhat surprised she got through without another coughing fit interrupting her. Whatever incident she spoke of he had no recollection… perhaps it had happened after he’d gone back to Cove. He wasn’t sure he wanted to ask. He was sure she had found plenty of creative new ways to be obnoxious back at the crafthall, since that’s about all he remembered about her before their… reunion.

“Shells,” he muttered softly to himself at how dramatic she was being about him trying to take care of her while she was sick. “Yes, my deepest apologies. I can see now how my trying to make sure you’re properly rested and hydrated has been such a hardship for you,” his words were drenched in sarcasm as he rolled his eyes once more, though her threat amused him. He was very tempted to see just how she would respond if he called her invalid again, but then he reminded himself that he was actually not trying to work her up for once and he held his tongue, “And how do you plan to kill me? Argue me to death?”

Her hesitant agreement to stop fighting his care was met with surprised relief, until she continued. He shook his head with a soft laugh, “Yes, I’ve noticed that. Normally it’s quite entertaining.” Her admission that she didn’t actually want someone else taking care of her, that she was… comfortable with him, shocked him into a thoughtful silence for a long while. Surely there had to be someone else she preferred, someone she was closer to, cared about, who she knew cared about her? It stirred up some vain hope that maybe she did feel something for him and that was the last thing he needed. As if this needed to become even more complicated with either of their feelings. He tried to force that hope away. She hadn’t meant anything by it. He was just… already here. She probably just didn’t want to bother anyone else? Yeah, right, like Siorreya ever cared if she was bothering someone. Ugh. Why had she said that?

She taunted him for picking truth, a welcome distraction, and his eyes narrowed, “Where’s the fun in a game I refuse to play?” Surely that was speaking her own language, with her need for fun and games all the time. She shifted positions and he watched her curiously, waiting for her question. She shivered and he stopped rubbing her back to pull the blankets up higher around her. As he settled his arm back around her, her hand started moving up his chest, distracting him for a moment from the fact that she was about to ask him something. Hazel eyes darted back to her face as she spoke, taking a moment to comprehend that she knew. “What? How did-...,” he went rigid with the realization that Asirikai had told her about it. Of course he had. Why wouldn’t he? How else would she know? How dare he go back to see her after… after…. Well, after what he might have done. It wasn’t like he hadn’t realized with all his time to think about it that his uncle might very well have played him.

He could only imagine what Asirikai had told her. Why did he have to drag her into their rivalry? He refocused on her, watching him, but he struggled to fight back all the anger it all brought up. And the shame. If he had just seen to her himself at the feast, none of it would have happened. He had chosen to protect his public image over her and he’d been regretting it ever since. If he’d made the opposite choice would he be regretting it just as much? He doubted it. It had been a selfish choice, that was for sure, and he wasn’t proud of it.

She was waiting for his answer. His gaze shifted away from her scrutinizing eyes as he tried to decide just how to word his answer. He drew in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down first before he spoke impulsively. Clearing his throat lightly, he looked back at her before he spoke, “I accused him of taking advantage of you while you were drunk. He didn’t deny it.” He looked down at her, concern drawing his brows together, “Did he?” There was a hint of a plea in his tone that he hadn’t meant to allow. How was he supposed to forgive himself if she said yes? He knew there was still every chance his uncle hadn’t done anything, that he’d just let him believe he had to provoke him, but he couldn’t get it out of his mind. The wondering had tortured him every waking hour since his fight with Asirikai, alone in his room with nothing to do but think on his failures. Concern for her health had given him his first respite from wondering about it since, but now that she’d brought it back up again… he needed an answer.

kevna

[kevna]

Siorreya - Green Amagetith

His sarcasm was unending. She accosted him with the best glare she could manage. “You know, I heard somewhere that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.” It was the best she could whip out, never mind she enjoyed sarcasm as much as he did. Her throat felt raw, and she tried to clear it, but only managed another round of coughing. She turned her face away to let loose her lungs, and trembled when it finished. When he asked his amused question, she was only able to turn back to him with a half smile. “I’m creative, and naturally spontaneous, I’m sure I’ll think of something.” She wondered briefly if she could breath fire, of what her throat and lungs could possibly look like to make her feel this way. Maybe she had chewed too much firestone in her sleep last night.

His soft laugh at her concession of her natural fighting response to him, the way his hand moved slowly along her back, it all made her body respond. It wasn’t a sexual, needy response, but more of a craving for more. She wanted more of this gentle side of Podrell she had never seen or heard before. Possessiveness. The thought filtered in, and she swallowed back the apprehension that followed, with denial. She was sick, tired, and afraid, and it was messing with her brain. Making her think she wanted something she didn’t want. Something she knew didn’t exist. She could see now how women got drawn in though, the feeling it inspired, even if it was fleeting. What she did know, was the longer the feeling was indulged, the worse the pain. Was this really that feeling? 

“I’m so glad I amuse you.” She said with mocking sweetness, then stuck her tongue out at him. Her mind awhirl with the thoughts and fears the plagued her. The game, it was all around safer, then any admission to herself about whether or not she really did have any feelings of any sort. 

Her movement had distracted him momentarily, but it assisted in showing his shock, the way his eyes snapped back to her’s at her question. She watched the recognition in his face, felt the tensing of his body under hers as his question trailed off. Anger there, maybe a little for her, but most assuredly at Asirikai for revealing him. There seemed to be a long silence, as if he was creating the perfect way to say whatever he had to say. What was there for him to hide?

“I accused him of taking advantage of you while you were drunk. He didn’t deny it.”

He looked so concerned, and she had to look away for a moment; then realizing what that might look like, like an admission, she looked back up at him. “He told me you made assumptions, that you came swinging at him as if you didn’t trust him with me…” Her voice trailed off when she realized what she was about to say was, ‘But then why did you leave me with him in the first place?’ But that sounded as if she couldn’t take care of herself, and she could. As if she thought it was his job to come and protect her, and it wasn’t. Instead, “But you don’t brawl. It’s not you.” The last was a statement, but there was the hint of question, confusion. He had always been the one to use words over fists, his wit was as sharp as any weapon, both the best offense and defense. Podrell had been the annoyingly calm, cool, and collected lordling back at the Glasscraft Hall. But this admission had to mean something. He had thrown the first punch, as Asirikai had said, but it didn’t match up with his character.

His simply worded question seemed to reawaken the guilt, the quiet plea in it surprising her, as if he needed to know. Did he truly care? Was it a Lord and Lady thing? Surely, he had to know all maidenly honor she may have had was lost to her with Amagetith’s first Rising. She had been as mentally and physically inebriated then, if by her connection to her bonded instead of alcohol, as she had been at the feast, but she wouldn’t have changed anything. She wasn’t a lady.

“He said your assumptions were false.” Her voice was soft but resolute, conveying her unconcern of the subject. Her wording was as much of an admission that she couldn’t remember then just saying it out loud, yet it still felt easier to say, and truer then outright saying no… The kiss, what if Asirikia told him first? Would it hurt him? Would it anger him? The voice inside her screamed that it shouldn't-didn't matter, she could kiss whoever she wanted. It didn’t stop the guilt from telling him. The desire to face the fallout herself. “There was a kiss, Podrell...” She said it warily. She was grateful that this next coughing bout hit her then, that she was able to twist away from his face, so she wouldn’t have to see that reaction. Her torso twisted and she let loose the coughing, feeling the vibrations through her whole body. Her gratitude was short lived, for with the end of the coughing came the burning pain in her chest, and her ribs felt like they had been kicked. Her head felt like it was pulsating from the pressure, and she felt dizzy. “Shells.” She croaked. She twisted back around and settled her forehead on his chest, hiding the pain she was sure could be seen in her face. Slowly she sunk back into her first position, her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, her hand fisted in his shirt on his chest with.

“I’m going to pick truth again.” There was a stubbornness there, an anger at herself and him for the guilt, a defensiveness from their last subject matter, and maybe even fear she felt that he would get up and leave. It was also the best way to change the subject, even if it meant broaching more uncomfortable subjects. At least they would be different uncomfortable subjects. 

[Zen]

Podrell

Her verbal prod about sarcasm had him raising a brow at her to tease back, “Oh? Is that why you utilize it so much?” In truth sarcasm flowed between them quite often, so Podrell couldn’t really escape including himself in the insult, but he could at least drag her down with him. He only shook his head at her cryptic remark on how she might kill him, more concerned about her coughing. He’d really like to get her something for it but… she still had the water on her bedside table if she wanted some form of relief, as little as it would help, and that was the best that could be done for now. Her mocking sweet tone had him laughing again, it sounded so unnatural coming from Siorreya, and he nearly let fly a chauvinistic response that he didn’t at all believe and was sure would get him hit, but managed to hold it back. She didn’t need to be expending unnecessary energy when she should be resting.

“You should be flattered, I’m not an easily amused man,” he settled for something just a little less antagonistic. It was true anyway, at least when it came to his interactions with people. People in general tended to bore him quickly, with little interesting or new to say, and with the company he tended to keep he figured it was likely even worse, with everyone hiding behind etiquette. In truth, if he thought back, the most interesting people he’d met were probably during his time at the crafthall. People like Siorreya, that he had shunned at the time in order to focus on walking the tables. He wondered at missed opportunities because he had been too single-minded in his pursuits. He felt like he was falling back into that pattern here, in his pursuit of the lordship of Mavros, and Siorreya was the only thing keeping him distracted. Now he wasn’t sure if it was a bad thing or not.

At his answer to her question, she looked away, and his concern spiked for a moment until she looked back up at him again. Well, she was right there. He didn’t trust Asirikai with her. “No… I don’t brawl....,” he agreed quietly, his voice hard with hints of both anger and shame. That was why he had lost. That and letting his emotions rule him. If he’d just stayed calm and cool headed about it, perhaps he would have fought smarter. Of course if he’d stayed calm and cool headed he probably wouldn’t have started the fight to begin with. He was an entirely different man where Siorreya was concerned. He had carefully built up a persona to show the world, but somehow she inspired him to be more… real. Sometimes that wasn’t entirely bad. He enjoyed it when it was just the two of them. But she had also inspired him into a fist fight with his uncle.

Now he felt like he needed to explain further, to give her a reason behind his uncharacteristic actions that didn’t reveal him completely. “I know you can take care of yourself,” he prefaced his explanation, looking at her seriously, and a hint of a smile pulled at one corner of his mouth, “You’re a dragonrider… not a lady that needs protecting, as you enjoy pointing out, but….” He sighed, “The only reason Asirikai keeps coming back to you is because of me. So I feel responsible for anything he says… or does, to you. He’s always been antagonistic toward me, and our rivalry here for the lordship has only amplified it, it seems. I….”

He trailed off as he was about to admit more than he’d like, but then he figured there was no harm admitting that much, was there? Wasn’t it already apparent by his being here and trying to take care of her? “I care about you,” he finally said after a long pause, “We have… an odd sort of… friendship, but it’s come to mean something to me.” He struggled to find the right words for whatever their relationship was. Friendship certainly wasn’t right, but he wasn’t about to use anything stronger or just use the vague ‘relationship’ and let her think he meant more. “My uncle has read far more into it but… he knows I care about you. So he’s using you against me. It isn’t fair to you. You don’t have anything to do with our rivalry.”

It was admitting far more than he’d like, and getting far too close to the truth, but he felt like he owed her more of an explanation since he had gotten her involved in this nonsense. “So… no, I don’t trust him with you. And neither should you. I find it difficult to believe he hasn’t had ulterior motives in any interaction he’s ever had with you.” He glanced away briefly, mildly embarrassed, “Besides the first, perhaps.” Until he’d stormed in and given himself away like a complete fool, anyway. His uncle had certainly seen right through him. Siorreya was generally a perceptive woman, it was a wonder she hadn’t confronted him outright about his feelings yet.

He was still anxious for her answer to his question, afraid she might not answer and leave him wondering. Her answer was… somewhat unsatisfying, as she seemed to be telling him what Asirikai had said, rather than giving her own answer, and that was worrying. But her tone did more to put him at ease. She didn’t seem concerned over whatever might have happened between the two of them. His assumptions were false. He relaxed, just a little, even though that just meant he’d let Asirikai lead him to false conclusions in order to bait him into a fight his uncle was confident enough he’d win. And he had. He wasn’t normally so easily led astray, but his judgment was clouded where Siorreya was involved. And Asirikai knew it.

She admitted to a kiss, but before he could feel any sort of way about it another coughing fit struck her. He closed his eyes, trying to sort it out while he waited for her fit to subside. She had seemed… concerned at the admission? Was she actually worried about what he would think? Or was it that Asirikai had stolen it from her, and she hadn’t been willing? Shells, he didn’t know what to think. He wanted to give his uncle the benefit of the doubt, he really did. He didn’t want to believe his own kin capable of the things he had been worrying over the last several days. Though he’d made a fool of himself, he much preferred that Asirikai had led him on in the belief to it being true, for many reasons.

She shifted again once her fit was over, her head on his chest, clinging to his shirt, and he wrapped his arms around her again as she chose truth before he could even ask. He had no idea what to ask her. He had too many things to ask her. From how she kept telling him about things that had happened through Asirikai’s words, he gathered that maybe she didn’t remember a lot about that night and wasn’t sure asking much more about it would be worth it. She hadn’t seemed upset, though, when he’d asked if his uncle had taken advantage of her. So surely… nothing terrible had transpired? They had kissed, apparently, but if that was the worst that had happened then it was far better than he’d been imagining. So was there really any more to ask about it?

A question did occur to him and he debated for a moment whether he should tease her with it or not. But their conversation had taken an unusually heavy turn and he thought it might do them both some good for him to ask something more lighthearted. “Well then… which one of us do you prefer to kiss?” Were they not playing their game, he felt certain she would claim to prefer Asirikai regardless, but this was her truth. It was a bit of a gamble as he hardly wanted to hear that she did, in fact, prefer his uncle, but she might not even remember the kiss that well, just that it had happened. He’d already asked, there was no going back now.

kevna

[kevna]

Siorreya - Green Amagetith

“I’ve already said you bring out the worst in me, what more do you want in explanation?” She said as innocently as she could, blinking up at him while biting her lip to suppress a grin. She did blame him for everything. She felt more childish and more like a woman with him, bringing out what he had called ‘contrary’ in her. He made her feel challenged, and she found it difficult, no, impossible, not to challenge right back. The thrill of winning wasn’t what it cracked out to be with most people, especially when the competitors lacked the substance needed for a proper challenge. Podrell was as close to her match, and while she craved the win with him, the journey was just as riveting.

She only rolled her eyes when he told her she should feel flattered by his attention, letting him know just how flattered she was. The pain behind her eyes when she completed the act had her close her eyes briefly till the pain receded. She allowed herself briefly to wonder if he deceived others in his attempt to remain amused with those who didn’t captivate his attention but pushed the thought away. There was no way to know, and so no need to question. It was better just to remain wary of every word. She never trusted a man before, and it wasn’t time to start now, feelings be pushed between.

She watched him carefully, hoping his expressions would give away more then his words, and was surprised when he angrily agreed that he didn’t brawl. Then why had he?! She tried to keep her face neutral, not give away the frustration and apprehension she was feeling. Siorreya was starting to wonder if this question had been a mistake.She listened to him expound, trying to plaster neutral over her face, but she found herself reacting, a narrowing of eyes here, a pursing of her lips there, as her brain sought to comprehend his meaning.

“I care about you,” His words had her wince, and she felt something akin to the feeling of watching Thread on dragon back as it dropped toward her, too close for any reaction to save them from scoring. Terror. She swallowed, her eyes dropping. She desperately wanted to put her hand over he his mouth to stop him from uttering more. Wanted to tell him to stop, to tell him she understood she was just a part of his game. She clenched her jaw, unwilling to show her knowledge, any weakness, she could play this game too, even if it pulled at her chest in that foreign way. She was glad when he continued, labeling them as a ‘friendship,’ then he had to ruin it by saying that it meant something to him.

Something like what? Shards, why did fear and excitement have to have the same body reactions? She didn’t realize that her brows had descended until he mentioned that Asirikai had read more into it then was absolutely true, and her brows rose in something akin to relief. Sio did her best not to react again, except giving a small, mirthless smile. She caught his embarrassment at the end and shook her head.

“You’re right, I can take care of myself. And I do not fear him,” Not like Podrell inspired fear in her, fear and that strange craving, “And you should not take full responsibility for his actions, I antagonize him as I antagonize most. I’m fully capable of bringing mischief like him into my life without your assistance. I don't understand why he brings out this...” She racked her brain, but found nothing, he had started with acknowledging her ability to fend for herself, yet still he held fast to his need to protect her. “Asirikai can’t hurt me, and even with whatever is between you, I don’t believe his intention is to harm me, only you.” She raised her hand, in case he wished to disagree, a stray thought teasing her. Did Podrell react to Asirikai this way with other friends, and vise versa? It mattered, she realized, though didn't understand why. She believed Asirikai only wished to drive her away, and as he had read more into Podrell’s feelings and she had no intention to cling to Podrell, no harm could therefore be dished out in the end. “Ulterior motive or not, so far he has only told me the truth, or what he believes to be the truth.” She gave him a measuring look, thinking of everything Asirikai had thrown at her so far. Pondering them as a whole. In many ways they were much alike, honorable, with tongues of sharp steel, proud, and ambitious. Yet Asirikia lacked the edge of wit Podrell had. It would make him a better Lord Holder. “Be all that as it may, I only trust myself when it comes to what I will believe.” She said it lightly, giving that half shrug, wondering if he would glean that she knew what Podrell was just as capable of. He could lie with the best of them.

His arm wrapped around her after her coughing had subsided, automatically pulling her closer and loosening some of the leftover rigidity from her coughing fit and her automatic defensiveness over the subject matter. The leftover tension remained in her jaw, and the hand fisted in his shirt. There were too many feelings coursing through her with his silence, and still a foreboding feeling continued even as she sought to change the subject by choosing truth. His question took her by surprise, her head jerking back a little, her eyes wide, and a half gasp half chortled exclamation escaped her lips; “What?” The remaining tension left her, and she chuckled, feeling a surge of relief.

“You two really have issues.” She murmured, shaking her head minutely, and raising an eyebrow, thoroughly amused. She pretended to contemplate the question, but for her there was no debate. There was a fire that ignited within her, a passion, a hunger she hadn’t experienced with any other outside of dragon-lust. While she could barely remember the kiss, she shared with Asirikai, she was sure he hadn’t sparked anything in her. It was something hard to forget.

“Hmmm, if I had to choose… I guess I’d choose you.” She murmured, and she let the hand on his chest trail back down to his waist. If she had the energy, she would show him just how much she preferred him, but the shiver that caused her body to tremble was all the reminder she needed that that would be a bad idea. It would be a nice distraction though. “Okay, your turn, truth or dare.” She was exhausted, and her lids sough to droop, sought to close, and she fought it. There was still the concern of waking up if she drifted off, having the nightmare take hold, and being alone as it overwhelmed her…

[Zen]

Podrell

He brought out the worst in her. It sure did seem that way most of the time with how argumentative and combative she got with him in every interaction. It could be entertaining, yes, but… it wasn’t sustainable, was it? Why would he want to enter into a relationship with someone he brought out the worst in? That wasn’t how relationships were meant to work. Just another reason to forget these nonsensical feelings that plagued him. There really was no future for them no matter how he looked at it, no matter what choices he made, so why couldn’t he just let it go? Of course, love cares not for reason.

He couldn’t tell if she was trying to reassure him or if she was only being stubborn about being able to handle herself, or perhaps a bit of both, as she responded to his explanation of just why he had gotten himself into a brawl over her. He was left wondering when she trailed off and didn’t finish her statement, but he did agree with her to an extent when she continued. “I still think it’s an odd coincidence that you happened to meet him in the first place,” he muttered unhappily. Asirikai’s goal was indeed to hurt him, not her, Podrell just wasn’t sure how far his uncle was willing to go to do so. He had never had a weakness like Siorreya to exploit before. He silently cursed himself again for giving it away so easily. If only he’d just kept walking when he’d seen them on the beach, Asirikai would have no idea and she would be safe from him. Of course their… fun on the beach wouldn’t have happened either, and wouldn’t that be a tragedy?

Trying not to think on the memory for too long, he refocused on her words instead. What had his uncle told her so far? He itched to know, and yet asking would be a terribly childish and insecure thing to do. What did it matter, anyway? As Siorreya had said, she could form her own conclusions regardless of what anyone might say. Somewhat dissatisfied, he forced himself to let the question go. He just hoped that whatever Asirikai might have said to her about him, she’d take with a grain of salt. Or a whole pound, preferably. For a moment he wanted to assure her that she could trust him, at least, but that was a lie. He was keeping things from her and he’d outright lied when he had said that Asirikai was reading too much into how he felt for her. He’d lied to her on the beach when he’d had to explain his ridiculous reaction to seeing her with his uncle and he was sure he would lie to her again in time, perhaps even today. He found that he wanted her to trust him, wanted her to be able to trust him, but trust had to be earned.

The question he had finally settled on had the desired effect. She laughed, seemed to relax, and he did as well. It was just so unusual for things to be so serious between them, and he was afraid if they kept up that line of conversation things would just get… deeper. He didn’t need to be dragged in any deeper with her. They weren’t in a relationship. He didn’t need to know any more about her past or her family. Whatever it was they had, it was fleeting, and in a few short sevendays it would be over. These heavy conversations would only weigh down what little time they had left to enjoy where their whims might take them. They didn’t need to know more about each other than they already did… it wouldn’t matter for much longer. Best not to waste time.

“Hm,” he made a soft, amused noise as she stated that he and his uncle had issues. He could hardly deny the statement, though he stubbornly thought that the issues lay mostly with Asirikai. Of course it wasn’t all his fault he was a maladjusted adult, what with what Podrell knew of his uncle’s relationship with his grandfather. Perhaps if Asirikai had gotten more fatherly affection growing up he wouldn’t be so obsessed with tormenting him every chance he got. He honestly didn’t know what he had ever done to draw so much ire from his uncle. He was the first grandchild in the family, perhaps he had stolen attention away from Asirikai when they were both young and it had bred persisting resentment? He had no idea.

Siorreya finally gave her answer, and he thanked Faranth she hadn’t said Asirikai. As he had thought before, there was every chance she had simply been too drunk to remember their kiss properly to have an opinion, but so long as he didn’t have to listen to her claim preference for his uncle he would take it. It was her hand suddenly trailing lower that banished all thoughts of Asirikai at last, though when she neared his waist he almost reached to stop her from going any farther. She stopped herself first, thankfully, but shells… she was cruel to tease him like that. She needed rest not… exertion. She turned the game back on him and he huffed in mild frustration. Couldn’t she just go to sleep already?

Afraid of what she might ask after all that he’d already admitted and not at all wanting a return to more serious conversation, he decided to take a chance, “Dare.” If he had to take a loss again then, well… so be it. Refusing a dare was one thing, refusing to answer a truth was about as good as giving an answer in the first place. He was mostly hoping she would dare him to do something that would have to be done later, so the game would stall as it often did until one of them could complete or fail their dare. If the game stalled, maybe she’d finally get to sleep. His arms encircled her a bit tighter for emphasis as he spoke, “If you want to be boring, go ahead and dare me to leave again, because I’m still not going anywhere until you’ve properly rested. And if you ever want to be rid of me I suggest you rethink your position on getting some sleep.”

kevna

[kevna]

Siorreya - Green Amagetith

He sounded like a… a jealous lover, the way he had muttered his discontent over Asirikai and her meeting. She rolled her eyes at him, only letting out a vexed sound, feeling disconcerted herself that she would even make that connection. Hadn’t he already been plain? Asirikai had read more into Podrell’s feelings, and that was what she needed to remember. Still, the little voice inside nagged her, reminding her that ‘he was the best of liars, wasn’t he? Asirikai was the one telling the truths here.’ Yet the implications of that voice were far more terrifying then denying them, and being pressed up against Podrell, with a raging fever and a headache, made it impossible to think of him that way, as a liar.

She had watched him as carefully as any adept scholar, a sick and feverish one at least, would as she spoke her side of things, but being the true politician Podrell was, she couldn’t divine anything from him. Nothing of substance, which, while frustrating, was probably for the best. The… feeling, she had had, still plagued her, and reading into a facial expression would do nothing for it.

She was a little surprised he picked dare, and her brows rose, both in surprise and thought. Before she could come up with something he started talking again, and she gave him an annoyed look, which she used mostly just to cover the spark of fear his words had ignited. Sleep? She was so tired, and nothing sounded better to her enervated limbs then restful sleep. But her brain understood what her body did not, and with sleep came nightmares. What if she did fall asleep, and Podrell left, his job done because she was ‘resting’? What if he didn’t leave, and the nightmare woke her up in a panic? Which of the two was the greater evil? Being found vulnerable, or a full out panic attack that could affect Amagetith too? Her nightmares alone caused enough agitation in the emotionally volatile green, she couldn’t even imagine what a panic attack would do… She had been so close this morning...

She swallowed the lump that was trying to form in her throat, and worked on breathing in and out evenly, which set off another coughing fit. Instead of twisting away, which seemed too impossible for her to accomplish at this point, she pulled a little away and buried her head in the arm that was smashed up against Podrell’s side. When it finally subsided, she felt like liquid, and her head was pounding in sync with her heart. She bit back a groan, and merely replaced her head back on his chest. Though she angled her chin down so again it was difficult to see her face, or so she hoped.

She sighed, “Well we,” Her croaking took her aback, and she cleared her throat and tried again. “Well, we can’t have boring, can we?” She sounded resigned, even to herself. She was too fatigued to be afraid of what her body was demanding and what would follow, and sleep was the most probable outcome. “Tell you what, I’ll think of a good one while you tell me what by Faranth’s name drives you to want to be Lord Holder. And if it bores me enough to sleep, so be it.” She removed her arm from around his waist long enough to grab the blanket that had shifted during her coughing fit, pulled it to her chin, and then replaced her arm, belting him in place again. She refused to look up at him, didn’t want to see pity or whatever else his hazel eyes might carry. She hoped his voice would carry on, even after she fell asleep, chasing the darkness from her dreams.

[Zen]

Podrell

The fact that she didn’t seem all too eager to think up a dare for him was telling, as was her tone, and her words were a stubborn way to tell him how tired she was without actually outright admitting it. He relaxed his hold on her a bit and resumed his gentle rubbing of her back with one hand, hoping it might further soothe her to sleep. Her question had him considering his answer in silence for several long moments. Were she well, he likely would have refused to answer on the grounds that he had chosen dare, not truth, not because the answer was anything he was trying to hide, but simply on principle, and to annoy her of course. But were she well, he wondered if she even would have asked. Some part of her must be curious, sick or not, or she would have asked something else.

A soft breath of laughter escaped him, “I shall endeavor to describe my aspirations to you in the most boring manner possible, then.” That she might find the explanation behind his ambitions to be boring was yet another way in which they were so very different, and another reason they would never have a future together. He dug deep for his answer, wanting to be able to speak on his reasoning for a decent amount of time, hoping he would indeed bore her to sleep. He spoke softly so his voice wouldn’t have the opposite effect they were going for, and slowly, all the easier to draw it out, “It started as a childhood dream. Growing up in my grandfather’s household, getting to see how everyone listened to him and respected him… well, as a boy, I admired that… wanted it. Of course, my chances of inheriting Cove are slim to none, which my mother was quick to inform me, dashing youthful dreams rather early on.”

He thought about her gentle chiding and how she had pushed him toward the glasscraft because it fascinated her so. It had seemed a little odd to him, as a child, that his mother had been so passionate about his becoming a glass-smith while his father was far less so. He knew now that his mother had been trying to live through him in a way, since she hadn’t been able to become a glass-smith herself despite her passion for it due to the limitations his grandfather had placed on her for being female. There were few crafts that Lords seemed willing to let their daughters pursue, if they allowed any at all. It was a shame because he was sure his mother’s passion could have led her to be quite skilled at the craft.

“My father comes from a long line of glass-smiths and the craft had always fascinated my mother, so she pushed me to try it instead, and it seemed natural to do what my father did… that is generally how things go, in Holds at least.” He’d never actually admitted what he was about to say to anyone before, and so he paused, considering whether he would keep it to himself now as well, but finally sighed and just said it, “But I’ve never been terribly passionate about the craft, to be honest. I find some enjoyment in it, the technical aspects, and I don’t dislike it by any means, but… it has never exactly felt like what I’m meant to do.” There was some strange relief in finally admitting it, though he was sure he was only doing so because Siorreya was probably falling asleep already and either wouldn’t hear or wouldn’t remember anything he was saying anyway. It would be too boring for her, surely.

“I rushed toward journeyman hoping the freedom might ignite more passion for it, and barring that, I would at least have more time to spend doing what I wanted… which ended up being a bit of everything. I studied so many different things, but none of it ever seemed… quite right. I suppose, perhaps, because I never quite let go of that boyhood dream. I’ve dabbled in a bit of everything, but nothing has ever made me feel a true passion for it…. Nothing has ever really felt challenging enough? Becoming Lord of Mavros? Fixing its problems and working to see it flourish? Being the one coordinating all the different parts to make it all run smoothly… is a challenge I’d really love to tackle. And it’s a challenge that never ends. Maybe then, finally… I’d feel like… I was doing what I was meant to do?” His voice softened further as he finished on a question that currently had no answer, glancing down at her and hoping she was already asleep. The truth was, he didn’t know if he would feel fulfilled as Lord of Mavros, but what else was there for him to try? He thought he would, he was pretty sure… but he didn’t know. And it was frustrating. He wanted more than anything to find something in life that made him feel as passionate as… well… as Siorreya made him feel. No wonder he was so addicted to her.

kevna

[kevna]

Siorreya - Green Amagetith

Siorreya bit her lip at his soft laugh, closing her eyes as she allowed herself the enjoyment of the sound, the feel of his chest vibrating under her head. She liked that sound, the feeling, way too much. Maybe that was why she answered as she did. “I don’t think you’ll have to try all that hard.” It was a wry comment, one she couldn’t allow herself to feel guilty about, even as she started to feel it all the same. The rider needed to be able to distance herself from him mentally, as physically it was impossible. She needed to be able to differentiate between her illness and the way her body responded now to the reality of their situation.

The current sickly reality was that she was extremely curious, and his explanation would give her another reason to stay awake. Yet as he spoke she felt her body respond to the gentle cadence of his voice, the way the words swirled in and lulled her closer and closer to sleep. She couldn’t truly fight it, not for very long. So she marked the words as best she could. Maybe it was her desire to hear him, maybe it was the fear of what true sleep could bring, but even as she fell into a sleep of a sort, she could continue to hear his words. It was like a dream, there was darkness all around her, but it was the peaceful kind that swirled with the voice of Podrell. She couldn’t open her eyes, couldn’t move, just trapped by his honey-like voice.

It was almost as if she could see him as a child, hopes dashed, moving through the motions. The lack of passion as he entered the craft, the race towards a freedom she couldn’t comprehend, the need for knowledge she could comprehend, and all of that somehow leading him to the strange conclusion that Lordship was still the answer. So strange. This non-dream dream. A sigh escaped her, quiet and peaceful, her body totally submitted to it’s desperate need for sleep. She tumbled further into her slumber, the darkness swallowing her whole.

---

A couple days later:

It was like a weight, the darkness that shrouded her whole. There were beds scattered all around her with individuals just as trapped as she, and in one she could almost see her mother. All of them just as shrouded as she, just as restrained by the darkness. If she turned her head she could see light, it wasn’t too far away. If she could just get up, just move, she would reach it. No matter how she twisted and turned her body, the black tentacles seemed to wrap tighter, pulling her further, suffocating her. The light suddenly seemed so much farther away, and no matter how she turned her head, she had lost site of the others. She called out, but no sound seemed welcome here, and it was swallowed up in the empty. Trapped. Lost. Alone.

No. Not alone. Never.

Siorreya started, her forehead damp with perspiration. She was sitting with her back pressed up against her green dragon who had curled around her, and who presently was watching her with swirling lavender and yellow eyes.

“No, never alone.” She croaked in agreement, working to control her breathing and her heartrate which had picked up to an uncomfortable rate. This is often how she woke up the last few days, at least it was when Podrell wasn’t with her. He had left, as she knew he would, but had stayed much longer than she had expected him too. And then he had come back. Her best rest came when he did, probably because he made sure she was in bed, and as long as she wasn’t alone, that was fine. Still, the nightmares came, and the first time she had had a nightmare in his presence, she had started awake much as a scaredy flit would, panicked and alert. She had tried to play it off, hoping to hide the embarrassing fact, lashing out rudely. Yet he kept coming back, kept staying, unheedful to her acting like an old, wherry cocked, sun-crazed wher. Shells, the worst part was she wanted him to come back. To wrap her up in his arms and hold her.

It frightened her, whatever it was he had awakened in her. He confused her and made her feel like her walls weren’t as strong as she had once thought, that maybe she was more foolish then she had realized. She knew the truth of it all logically. He would either become Lord Holder of Mavros, or he would move on, but in the end, it always came down to the fact that whatever she felt would never be enough. Asirikai had warned her, hadn’t he? It wasn’t too late. She wasn’t in too deep. Podrell’s game was increasingly unclear, she would just have to make her own rules to win, push the right buttons. She just had to think of the right button to push, the one that would get him to do what he already planned on doing. Leave...

Do you need more rest?

The sound of her green’s concerned tone brought her back from the spiral she had gone down, and she wondered if Ama had followed the spiral, then considered her rider delusional.

“No, I just needed to rest my eyes.” Why had she needed it again?

Are you sure we shouldn’t call out again? Sio’s eyes snapped open, she must have closed them to think, in realization. Threadfall.

“Shells, no. Two days should be plenty. We fly when thread is in the sky.” Her voice cracked a few times, and then her shoulders shook as a coughing fit hit her again. Amagetith didn’t move, and she could feel her green’s unease.

Are you sure, mine?

Well, it was either they get out, or she sleep, and the remnants of the dream clung to her, and drove her to her feet.

“Quite.” Again, the cracking made the word hard to recognize, and she had to fight the dizzy spell getting up too fast had caused. Her whole body still felt heavy. How long had she slept?

Not long, mine. Distress apparent in the words. Siorreya waved her off, and decided the best way to go about easing her emotional green was by showing her. Shells though, she moved slow. Gathering and dressing in her gear took far longer than normal. She gathered the green’s gear, considering how she would go about getting it on her, and feeling exhausted just thinking about it. “Maybe I’ll just put it on once we’ve gathered with the rest.” She murmured, sighing. Maybe she could get someone to help her, though she winced at the idea.

Shall I meet you there? Apparently the ruse she had made had worked on the green, who sounded a little less concerned and a bit more intense at the prospect of fighting thread. She leached some of that intensity, resolving herself. Surely, she would feel better if she did this? They would just have to be fast enough not to go between too often, the icy cold of between sounded awful. She shivered, from the thought, not the fever… So she hoped.

“Yeah, I might go get some klah. Warm me up a bit first. I’ll meet you there.”

Yes, yes, we fly when thread is in the sky.

Her green departed first, and Sio followed, taking the weyr entrance. She moved haltingly, her goggles on her head seemed to be increasing the pressure in her head quite painfully. She did her best to ignore it, skirting the wall as she practically crawled down the hall, her resolve the only thing keeping her moving. She was looking down at her feet, willing one after the other to move. Maybe she should have just strapped Ama up, and strapped herself in. Now it sounded a lot easier then making her way to the dining hall. Was Siorreya’s own hall always this long? She was so tired, she didn't even think about the fact that Ama's fighting gear had been left behind...

[Zen]

Podrell

Podrell had been able to feel victorious that he had managed to get Siorreya to sleep. He could imagine her pushing herself to passing out in her strange avoidance of it, and was glad to have avoided that outcome… at least for one day. He probably should have left her after she’d gotten to sleep, but he really hadn’t wanted to, and besides that didn’t want to risk waking her again considering how she was pressed against him. But for once in her life she was so peaceful and holding her just brought up those obnoxious feelings. It was stupid how much he enjoyed having her in his arms. He’d even dozed off himself for a bit until she’d suddenly jolted awake, startling him awake in the process.

And the peacefulness disappeared just as quickly as she almost instantly became defensive and combative. He could only assume the fever or her childhood trauma had brought on nightmares, perhaps both, but she obviously had no want to confide in him about it. He liked her independence, he really did, but he also wished she could just relax and let him take care of her while she was sick instead of trying to put on a strong front all the time. Why did she always have to argue over everything and start needless battles constantly? It seemed the only time she was ever at peace was when she was asleep. At least when he was around, anyway.

Since she had admitted to being comfortable with him helping her while she was sick, and hadn’t asked for anyone else, and he was quite confident she would not continue to choose to rest on her own considering her aversion, he had decided to check in on her in the coming days as well, which predictably provoked more arguments from her. He was determined to see that she rested, however, and if he had to hold her in the bed every day thereafter to ensure it, well… he had no complaint about that. Those thoughts had him constantly considering asking Maz’ru to look after her instead, because continuing to take care of her just felt like he was digging himself in deeper, but he never did. Another bad sign.

He sighed to himself as he headed for her weyr to check in on her again today. He’d brought more of the herbal tea he’d asked the healers for to try to help alleviate some of her symptoms, the little pack of herbs tucked safely in his jacket pocket. Something for fever, something for her cough, and something to help her sleep. Since she wouldn’t go and be seen by a healer herself, and he doubted there was much more they could do for her anyway, it was all he could really do to try to help her get over her illness any quicker. That and the rest.

He stopped suddenly as he spotted the shuffling gait of the sick and clenched his jaw in frustration at the sight of Siorreya… and was she in flight gear? He hurried over to her, his frustration mixing with worry in his tone, “Just what in Faranth’s name do you think you’re doing? You look like you’re about to collapse at any moment.” Why did he care so much about this foolish, stubborn woman? He didn’t hesitate, reaching out to scoop her up into his arms before she really did collapse, “You’re going to undo any progress toward your recovery with whatever flitterbrained idea you’ve come up with now. Shards and shells… how am I supposed to-” He cut himself off before he could finish, letting out a frustrated huff instead. Worrying about her was already distracting enough without adding her trying to do… whatever she was doing to the mix. How was he supposed to focus on winning the holders to his side when he was constantly wondering if Siorreya was being ridiculous and irresponsible with her health? What did he have to do, move into her weyr? Babysit her like she was some child? She really was being childish about this sickness. “You are obviously nowhere near ready to return to normal activities. Do you have ash for brains?” He looked down at her as he continued on toward her weyr, wondering what sort of argument she would have this time.

kevna

[kevna]

Siorreya - Green Amagetith

His sudden voice made her jump, and she looked up to see Podrell quickly approaching her, anger clouding his face. In some ways, the anger made him more attractive, with the way his jaw clenched and his hazel eyes flashed. Her brow furrowed in her own anger, whether at the direction of her thoughts or his words seemed to matter little. “I do not.” She put her hands on her hips, but even that move was exhausting. “We fly when thread is in the sk-“ She ended in a squeak as she was scooped up into arms, her own arms coming to steady herself around his neck.

Siorreya unwound her arms from his neck to push against his chest. She was not flitterbrained! It was her duty, shell it all! His swearing had little affect on her, but her eyes narrowed as he cut himself off suddenly.

“How are you supposed to what?” She bit out warily, curiosity warring with her anger. Had he been about to tell her whatever his 'plan' for her was? Why did he keep coming back? What did it matter to him? His previous words when he had lain with her, that he ‘cared for her’ came back, but she only shook her head, not liking that prospect and not trusting it at all.

She growled when he asked if she had ash for brain, but it only stirred her into another coughing fit. They were closing in on her room by the time she finished, and she unfisted her hands from his shirt, embarrassed to find she had clung to him while coughing. Shards and shells, what was he doing to her? “I have a sense of duty.” She muttered defensively trying not to wince at the rawness of her throat, giving her best glare. “I need out, we need to be with our wing." There was a desperation in her voice, so she growled again, more successfully, "I can’t keep stewing like this, it’s driving me flitterbrained.” She threw her hands up in the air in frustration. “Why do you care?” She muttered, but her question was more for herself then for him, quiet and thoughtful, as her piercing blue eyes studied him suspiciously. It didn't matter what he said, did it? He could lie with the best politicians. 

[Zen]

Podrell

Podrell only let out a soft, derisive snort as she refuted his claim of how weak she looked. She’d been shuffling along like it was taking all her energy and concentration to keep moving forward. “You’re lucky I found you before you did collapse and someone came along to take you to the infirmary.” In his arms, she fought against his hold but he didn’t care as it had little effect on him. Wait had she said something about Thread? Thread. That’s right, he had heard that Thread would be falling today, that the Weyr was readying to fight. “Do you have a death wish?” he snapped, fury born from fear flashing through him as he could imagine her trying to fight Thread in her current state, not being able to react properly, and… and not coming back.

A moment later reason returned to him as he really thought about it, and doubted any decent leader would let such an obviously ill rider fight. She would only be a danger to herself and others, surely. His hold on her had tightened without him realizing it, and relaxed again as he drew in a deep breath and let it out to release that brief flash of anger. If she wasn’t sick he just might shake her to try to knock some sense loose from somewhere.

He wished she’d just let it go when he’d cut himself off, but she prompted him about it, so he just made something up, “How am I supposed to make sure you stay in bed? Tie you to it?” He raised a brow down at her, teasing, hoping it might be enough of a distraction that she wouldn’t question him further. Not that he was about to tell her how much he worried about her, even though he’d been making it rather apparent. That didn’t mean he had to admit it. Shells.

She fell into a coughing fit and he sighed as she clung to him, wondering if his sustained time with her would indeed get him sick as well in the end, which would put a further strain on his ability to win the Lordship. But it had become quite clear that she meant more to him than becoming Lord Holder, and that was a problem because he couldn’t have her either way. He should be focusing on things that were within his reach, not just outside of it, yet here he was, risking it all the same.

He frowned down at her, eyes narrowed as she tried again to insist that she should be fighting Thread. He could understand that she was feeling restless, she wasn’t one to just lay about doing nothing, after all, but there was no helping it if she wanted a quicker recovery. They reached her door and he took her back inside, “Your sense of duty is admirable, but you’re not going to be any use to anyone like this. You’re just going to get hurt, or worse. And if your wingleaders would let you fly like this then I question how Mavros has survived this long with such poor judgment. The more you rest, the sooner you’ll get better, and the sooner I’ll leave you alone and let you get back to your duties.” He pretended he hadn’t caught her muttered question, since he had no desire to answer it, and deposited her on her bed. Taking a step back, he frowned at her flight gear which hardly seemed comfortable to sleep in. Should he help her remove it? Or maybe he should just brew her the tea he’d brought and let her do it herself since she would probably fight him on it anyway.

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