Untitled Document

All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyright © Anne McCaffrey 1967,2000, all rights reserved, and used by permission of the author. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with permission. Use or reproduction without a license is strictly prohibited. For more information, visit the Worlds of Anne McCaffrey.

« Previous | Main | Next »

23-01-02: Homecoming
A business trip to Telgar had Lydiere away from home for some time; when she returns, G'wain is waiting.

Swinging her riding jacket over one arm, her shirt untucked in disarray, Lydiere ambles into the weyr with a yawn, lugging a small sack behind her. It's been a long few sevendays, whilst she's been away; she looks tired, although her face brightens as she enters. "I'm home!" That much, at least, is obvious.

Indeed it's been a long few sevendays, for G'wain. And he missed Lydiere every moment of each one. Given some warning that they were back by Ahreluth, he's managed to get up - Even if it is late afternoon - and wash his face before she enters. Standing there waiting, he breaks into a grin and moves towards her. "Missed you." He intones, moving to fold her in a hug. She doens't know how much.

[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Ahreluth 's mindvoice speaks of elation and joy on his part as he welcomes his mate home. << Welcome home. >> It's not eloquent, but it is heartfelt as he waits for her to find a spot and settle to the ledge. <> Aww.

Lydiere wraps herself into that hug, moving more rapidly towards it - and him - in relief, her jacket and sack dropped unceremoniously as she skirts the distance between them. "I missed you, too. Very much. " is responded, mostly muttered into G'wain's shoulder as she more or less clings, holding tight. "I'm never agreeing to do *that* again."

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth's trill is bright and bountiful, moulded of silver moonlight and soft touches of purple, through the icy gleam that is her very own. << Home is a wonderful place to be, >> she responds, settling in comfortably upon the ledge, tail outstretching companionably. << It was cold. There was no water. Here is better. >>

G'wain just hold Lydiere close, breathing deeply and savouring the smell that he only was able to remember for the time that she was away. "And if you did, I'd go with you." Sure he's got responsibilities... but he doesn't care. And is it just you, or is he fitter than he was? "Ahreluth was worse than I, though. He'd just sit there and look towards Telgar every night." So G'wain joined him most of the time, but it was just to keep company, right? Right.

[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Ahreluth never was vocal - at least to make a physical noise, but a low rumble can't be suppressed. << Perhaps we should go for a swim? >> He offers, moving to get up, but rather than move towards the sea, he moves towards Llysereth. << Later, maybe. >>

Lydiere nuzzles her head into G'wain, holding the hug for as long as it will last - although she ends up lifting her face to move towards bestowing a kiss to its proper position. "That's settled, then. I *did* miss you." The emphasis is unmistakable, and she's almost - but not quite - surprised at her own response. "I didn't imagine I'd miss you so much. -- Oh, did he? That's very sweet."

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth responds to Ahreluth's movement with another flick of her tail, shifting her position so that she can whuffle softly towards the bronze. << We shall - later. I *would* like that. >>

G'wain smiles, and wasn't going to be so forward, just in case. But since she's the one initiating everything, he can only follow along. Poor thing? Not quite. Responding in kind, his meeting of lips is passionate and somewhat raw... if there's anything to guess, he missed her just as much. When (if?) the kiss finishes, he stays close, murmuring softly, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder?"

[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Ahreluth isn't going to be bothered restraining himself. They're in the weyr, and he's missed her so much... he moves to nuzzle her scandalously. << Then we shall. >> His tail reaches for hers, and in his haste, doesn't really give her warning. If she thinks about it, she might see that it's so sweet... but hey. It's Llysereth.

Lydiere's kiss is equally vehement: desire, evidently, gets the better of the woman, and it takes some time before she's willing to break away. Breathing, even through the nose, is difficult. "Absense," she retorts, tone dry, "Does a lot more than that. But it's a good start." Her face has broken into a brilliant smile, her shoulders dropping in relief.

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth's hesitation is - very briefly - obvious, but she responds to the nuzzle with something akin to, for her, reckless abandon. She's *home* - and it's worth it. She allows her tail to twine about Ahreluth's, noting softly, << Lydiere missed yours. I missed you. You'll have to stay. >> There's no fight, anymore: Llysereth, evidently, has accepted this as the status quo.

G'wain had almost thought that his feelings wouldn't be returned when she got back. His worst fear over the sevendays, to be honest, and his retuning smile is equally brilliant - This is not the case, it seems. Chuckling softly, he nods. "Doesn't make just the heart fonder, to be honest. But that can wait. How was it up at Telgar?" He's interested in how she want up there. "That is, if it's not too hard to talk about." He grins. "It couldn't have been /that/ bad, really..."

[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Ahreluth's contentment is tangible - he was quite restless without his mate here, however adaptable he might be. << I'll stay for as long as you want. Forever, if that is what you would like. >> It's so heartfelt... << And G'wain feels the same. >> Gah. Give the man's secrets away, next time! << I'm glad you're back now. >>

"I think," confides Lydiere, arms still tightly wrapped around G'wain in comfortable bliss, "My parents get worse and worse, every time I see them. Telgar itself was fine, though," she adds, "Weyrwoman Thagonia isn't so bad, although I find the whole Weyrwomanly thing deadly boring. -- it wasn't /that/ bad, it was just not fun." To say the least; Lydiere spent most of the sevendays restlessly nervous, and that can only make things worse. "And it's *cold*. No one to snuggle with, either." Aww. Poor dear.

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth, mind touched in ripples of gold and lavender, croons softly. << Good. I'll like that. Lydiere--will *very* much like that. >> Naive manner nonetheless allows her to add, << She's very peculiar like that. I don't understand her. >> But there's no resentment - Llysereth is, for the moment, perfectly happy. << I'm very glad to be home. >>

G'wain nods his head as he listens, and after a moment, nods. "I should go to see my mother..." Not father, mind. "She was nice then?" He asks, considering. "A nice WeyrWoman. There's a concept. Last time I say Lymera, I got a scalpel thrown at me. I might have deserved it, though..." He shrugs. Not his fault. Never his fault. "I'm sure though, if it was say... here, and you had things to do that you cared about? Maybe that'd be better? I can at least help with the snuggling. It's not so cold here, but I'm sure we can find an excuse." He grins, and move for another quick kiss before she responds.

[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Ahreluth is a little melancholy and deep, the plucking of a double bass evident. << He would never tell her himself, though. Or at least, I don't think he would. >> He'd know, too. <> They're both so naive. Perfect match.

Lydiere responds to the kiss wholeheartedly, pulling back softly, a broad smile upon her face. "It's probably a nice thing to do," she agrees dubiously, "Mine, however, wants me to transfer to Telgar and be Senior when Thagonia retires, so that she can point to people and say that I'm her daughter. " Ooh - she sounds bitter. "Lymera's a completely different kettle of fish. She's *odd*." Nose wrinkles, although she shrugs: "Maybe. It's certainly not my ambition, though. The snuggling, on the other hand..."

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth's cello resonates thoughtfully, music made as she twins voice about Ahreluth's. << They are peculiar, things. I would tell her--but she would be upset at me, I think, if I tried to make things right. >> More thoughtfully still, she adds, << Perhaps they don't have any words. They can't--express imagines, or emotions, like we can. >>

G'wain nods his head to each of her statements before resoponding to a couple only. "Lymera... I havn't met. But each time that I did, something happened. Scalpel, Dragon... getting drunk and making a fool of myself... I'm beginning to think that each time I meet her something... wierd happens. Not that Ahreluth was wierd... But it was unexpected, at least." Satisfied with that explanation, he nods his head. "You should do what you want, not what they want." Good advice. "I wouldn't want to be a... trophy, like that." Moving back towards the bed slowly, he grins, "Lymera looks quite healthy, so don't worry. If she didn't, I think I'd be more frantic than you - You've at least got some experience..."

[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Ahreluth bobs his head slightly in the approximation of a human nod. << Mayby she would. Maybe I could tell G'wain that she'd be happy? Maybe he'd be mad at me, too... >> He drops his muzzle to the cool earth and lies there a while. <> He's quite serious. <>

Lydiere admits, "I'm not sure if I'd get along with Lymera, if I didn't have to. We're too different." Nodding, as she leans comfortably up against G'wain, following him easily, "Thank fardles she is, too. -- Ah, yes. The way Llysereth is acting...It could spell doom for you, if it was a senior flight. Then again, one can never say anything for certain. But I'm getting the impression that for a homecoming, we're talking far too much...serious stuff. Tsk."

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth considers, but at last settles down to companionable relaxation. << Perhaps. I suppose it's better to leave them be. >> She's not sure of this, but it seems like the Right Thing To Do. << They...I suppose they do. >>

G'wain nods his head. "And that's why I love you. You're different to all the others." This is about as close as you'll get, at least for now. "What do you mean... the way Llysereth's acting?" He has to ask, though he doesn't seem to pay much attention to his comment. Laughing softly, he moves to sit on the bed and draw Lydiere into him. "Maybe then... we shouldn't talk?" Not until you answer his questions, though!

Lydiere hesitates, a warm flush coming to her face at the word 'love'. "And why I--" there's an audible pause; it's well known that Lydiere debates the idea of love, to a point - and yet..."love you, too. Because you're not like the others, either, if in a different way." Okay, there's more to it than that - this is the soppy version. "I don't know. She's...almost affectionate. For about the first time. She likes Ahreluth." She's more interested, however, in settling herself happily against G'wain. "Maybe."

[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Ahreluth gives the mental equivalent of a shrug, and nuzzles softly once more. << They'll work it out eventually... I think. See? >> He's even eavesdropping on G'wain. << There's something, at least. Progress. G'wain's been practicing that for at least three days. >>

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth is amused by this idea - practicing before one says something, and admits, << Lydiere has thought about it. She didn't know what to say. She's...odd like that. Hesitates, even when she knows something is right. >>

G'wain took a risk, and while awaiting her response - even if there was a pause in it - he looked on concerned. Breathing out in a sigh of relief, releasing a breath he didn't realise he was holding, G'wain enfolds Lydiere in a tighter hug than before. He is quite buff. Been training, perhaps. He doesn't talk, raising a finger to Lydiere's lips. "Shh." Replacing finger with lips, he isn't as insistent as he was before, more tender... caring.

Lydiere has noticed the - new and improved buffness of G'wain, but now, lips are occupied in other matters than complimenting him on it, responding with ardent - but undeniably tender - interest. Without breaking the kiss, she shifts her position, comfortably settling herself closer still. Aww. "Fine," she murmurs, between kisses, "no more talking."

[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Ahreluth's smoky tendrils of laughter waft over. << That's why G'wain was practicing. >> He confesses for his rider. << The first few times, he looked... wrong, like he didn't like the words. He wanted it to be perfect. >> Proud, Ahreluth? Nah...

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth is amused, a flutter of icy water suitable and soft. << So I see. She should have practiced, too. It would have been better. G'wain did will. >> Evidently, Lydiere's thoughts have coloured her own - << Very well. >>

She doesn't have to compliment him on it, not at all. She just can enjoy it if she likes. Grinning, he whispers softly, "Always have to have the last word, hmm?" He barely manages to get that out in the space between one kiss and the next, but he manages. Guiding Lydiere to lie down on the bed, he's gentle and he doesn't break off the kiss.

[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Ahreluth shakes his head slightly on the ground. << G'wain didn't mind, I don't think. That she said it was enough for him. She did just as well as he. >> His own thoughts are coloured by G'wain rising emotions, and he tries to move a little closer to Llysereth. <> Is this leading somewhere?

Lydiere's response is - as is often the case - wry, but possibly not as interesting as the kisses themselves, which actually take up far more of her attention. It's funny, that. "Of course I do - I'm a woman." Down she goes, settling herself upon the covers whilst still straining up into that kiss - kisses, really - expression warm. Well - why wouldn't it be?

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth accepts this, thoughts swirling in an array of pretty colours and textures, the faintest scent of lavender evident to encourage the colour that so often finds itself within her mind. Movement she accepts, settling closer to Ahreluth with something of a peaceful nature, adding, << They shouldn't mind anything. They're-- >> That she doesn't finishing, adding, <>

G'wain rolls his eyes where she can see him and doesn't speak, content to her her have the last say, though he does mutter something inaudible, even at such close proximity. Maybe he's not so content to give her the last word... Though his really wouldn't count. She looks awfully hot in those clothes... Maybe he should get her out of them - and he proceeds to do so, but the need to kiss her hinders him somewhat.

[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Ahreluth's mindvoice is now tentative, though at the same time it manages to be pure and flowing - much like honey, a bronze-gold thickness. <> He can't find the 'words' so he carefully allows Llysereth to feel a little of what he feels. << Like that. >> Locked off is she to the feelings for her he harbours.

Lydiere sticks out her tongue - briefly, only - with amusement, otherwise distracted, as G'wain's efforts are given the eyerolling treatment, not that she manages much better on her own first attempt. It's a matter of disentangling one's self, which becomes more difficult. Kisses, rather, tend to take her attention; evidently, she'll leave the more finicky clothes for *him* to figure out.

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth considers these thoughts, images accepted into her consideration, as her own mind attempts to find that which she terms an appropriate response. Icy moonlight is hers, to play with, soft and almost gentle, << 'Love' is a peculiar thing. It--has many meanings. It's-- >> She falters, instead expressing her own thoughts with a soft nudge of muzzle to muzzle.

The finicky clothing for G'wain? Why is it always up to him? Managing because lust is driving him, any longer and he would have just ripped the clothes than undo them. They're discarded though, his own following suit.

Because he started it. Or--because he's in a better position to do it. Yes, that's right! Clothing discarded, lust rather much taking presedence, there's little room left for thought. And that's probably for the best.

[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Ahreluth leans into the nuzzle his eyelids closing. <> And he does. Not saying another word he lies there almost embarassed at his show of emotion, though not regretting it in the least. After a long pause, as if he's considering what to say, he remains silent and moves his neck to rest it over the top of Llysereth's.

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth comfortably leans up against Ahreluth, accepting his closeness as a thing of good fortune - his response is met curiously, but she's far better in her languid position, resting companionably.

[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Ahreluth isn't uncomfortable, but at the same time, he's not entirely comfortable either. He just likes being close to her, almost protective. << How was Telgar? >> He already knows that it was cold and there weren't any lakes to swim in, though he wants to know more. << What did you do there? >> What kept you away so long...

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth has captured a glimpse of this discomfort, soothing the contact with a warm whuffle; her relaxed contact suggests *she* missed home near as much as Lydiere, to some degree. << The other queens gossiped, >> she elects to say, at least - disapproving. << There were too many greens. >> Green-flights, that is, perhaps. << 'Snow' is interesting. Sand is better. *Water* is better. >>

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth projects to Llysereth . o O ( What did they gossip about? >> He asks, wondering. He's not a gossip, not really... Just a green in Bronze skin at times. <> It seems like the right thing to say. << Snow? )

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth is hazy on this - she doesn't listen. << Crude things. Who is-- >> she has to think, finding the word that was used, << 'boffing' who, and...Other silly things. >> Deep down, there's a belief that queens should be above that; she, afterall, is. << Greens are silly. They don't know how to behave. >> They have flights. She--okay, skip that. << Snow. Frozen water, Lydiere said. >>

[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Ahreluth considers this. << You didn't gossip, though. >> Like she would? << Greens have their merits at times. Just not all the time like others. >> Like you? << Frozen water doesn't seem that interesting... What does it look like? >>

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth's very disdain, pictured somehow within her voice, is answer enough to this. << No. >> Like: Ew. << They are very nice, when they are not doing crude things. >> Like Llysereth. Of course. << It's hard. But soft. Wet, but not properly so. >>

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth projects to Llysereth . o O ( Show me? ) He asks, wondering if she forgot that images are as easy to send as thoughts. )

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth hesitates, but soon after projects her image, a snow covered weyr-bowl slightly like that of Ista's, with young children throwing balls of the soft, white stuff. << Like that. >>

[DTU/Project] Llysereth senses that Ahreluth pauses a moment to take in the scene that he's recieved. << If they throw it... wouldn't it hurt? >> He asks, a little confused. Of the frozen water he knows, that would /hurt/! << They must be silly to throw it at each other. >>

[DTU/Project] Ahreluth senses that Llysereth's own mind forms a question, which she considers. <> Not a good idea. << It is slightly...softer, than other frozen water. In little pieces. >>

[OOC: the next day; IC: the next morning]

G'wain is lying on his side watching Lydiere in silence, smiling softly down at her, his elbow in the pillow, hand propping his head up. Keeping his eyes on her face, he shifts slightly towards her to wake her with a kiss, (Some day my prince will come...?) that is, if she's not awake already.

Lydiere sleeps - no, correct that: she slept - as innocently as a child, breathing heavy and even, her hair a rumpled mess about the paler hue of her sleeping face. K

Lydiere sleeps - no, correct that: she slept - as innocently as a child, breathing heavy and even, her hair a rumpled mess about the paler hue of her sleeping face. Very sweet - but not for long, for the kiss, as it meets, draws a fluttering to her eyelashes, a stirring movement, and then eyes opening properly as a smile moves to broaden upon her face. "Morning," says she, softly, as she rouses.

And so comes the reason why he did what he did in the first place. At a loss for words at the smile, he returns it while leaning back to his former position. Smiles soothe the savage beast? Finding voice he answers the greeting softly. "Good morning." And it is. "Sorry to wake you," he offers with a mischevious grin, not really meaning it.

"No you're not," is Lydiere's retort, still soft as the last whisps of sleep are dispelled from her mind. "But I'll let you off the hook this time." And every other time, for that matter - for is there any better way to wake? She settles herself upon the pillows comfortably, lethargic in her position - eyes fastened securely upon G'wain. Mmm.

G'wain grins somewhat boyishly and shrugs his shoulders as best he can. He's not sorry, and they both know it. "You know, for a minute there I was worried. What would have happened if I /wasn't/ let off the hook?" He flops softly back onto the pillows, rearranging them with one hand while gazing back at Lydiere. She's so beautiful to him... But he won't say that. He's too emotionally... restrained.

Lydiere's eyebrows waggle as she thinks up a suitable response, feet meanwhile reaching through the rumpled covers to rest by G'wain's - footsies! "That's a very good question, which has a very good answer. Needless to say, it would have involved *some* kind of payback, in some form or another. But since you're off the hook, it doesn't matter."

G'wain rolls his eyes. "And here I thought you were going to do something bad." Cold feet, anyone? G'wain senses the movement and clamps cold feet onto Lydiere's, not letting them go without a fight. All the while his face remains civil, as if nothing's goingon under the covers. "But I'd have to know for next time, you see. I wouldn't want to do that again and end up... I don't know.... tied to the bed."

"Did I say it *wouldn't* be bad?" Lydiere's turn to roll her eyes, mirthful expression set into her face by way of her grin. Cold feet ensure a brief deviation of expression, and a wiggle ensues, although her feet don't end up moving. Death by frozen feet, alas. "Tied to the bed? There's a creative idea...But not really my style, I don't think."

G'wain shakes his head, his feet warming as they absorb the heat from Lydiere's. It won't be all that uncomfortable after a little while. Even so, he tried to tickle the underside of her feet with his, and he bites his lip in concentration before speaking. "You wouldn't do that to little ol' me, now, would you?" He asks, raising an eyebrow endearingly. "I didn't want to be tied to the bed anyway." Nod.

Lydiere's foot wiggles promptly - evidently quite ticklish - although she makes no mention of it, feet finding some kind of comfortable position. "Oh, wouldn't I?" A low chuckle follows, before her head shakes as much as it can, being set up against the pillows. "I wouldn't. --You're sure? Good. No need to tie anyone to a bed." At least that's settled.

G'wain doesn't bother with the foot contortion any longer, contenting himself with wrapping his legs around Lydiere's. "Of course you wouldn't. I'm too cute." That's said with a grin, and he tilts his head for a kiss, a quick one. "You probably don't have any rope in here, as it is." He grins. Seacrafter, not having rope?

Lydiere's expression continues being oblivious to the feet - and now legs - entangling themselves beneath the covers. Instead, she returns the kiss, and, as it ends, retorts, "'Cute'. Of course. Being cute saves you from absolutely everything, I'm sure." There's no question to cuteness, however. "G'wain, dear, there are two things that you have to know about seacrafters. One is that there is always alcohol of some kind around, and two, a rope is *always* handy."

G'wain chuckles softly. "Of course. Being cute is the ultimate defense. At least when you're being told off by women, or men who are interested. R'yn wasn't fooled. Shame." He shrugs. No big loss. Rolling his eyes, he looks around. "So, where is this rope? And the alcohol? I thought there was a third, though." He doesn't clarify, just yet.

"Only women can use the defense of being cute with R'yn, I think." Lydiere considers this, then nods her head, "He's too much of a ladies man to notice your cuteness." She punctuates this with a firm nod of her head, somewhat serious - if in a lazy way. "A seacrafter doesn't give up her secrets. It's all here. -- A third? Oh? And what would that be?"

G'wain chuckles a little. "Their mouthes are fouler than..." He shakes his head. "No, I don't think that it applies in this case. I certainly don't find your mouth foul." And to emphasise his point, he moves to meet his own mouth with the aforementioned mouth, again only brief. "Nope. Not foul in the least."

Lydiere's lips twitch in amusement for a brief moment, before they're otherwise occupied within the kiss, but she retorts, "I'm becoming civilised. It's part of the whole retired territory, or something, I imagine." Her toes comfortably run up and down G'wain's leg, whilst she leans upon her pillows, watching the leg's owner. "Shame, too. Foul mouths are surely very attractive."

G'wain grins and shakes his head. "A foul mouth is decidedly unattractive, unless it is used sparinly and in a sexy manner." He seems to be be quoting something... possibly himself. "Though I must say, I like your mouth however it is, be it foul or not." And to show that he indeed does, he leans forward for a longer kiss. See? He's not joking.

Lydiere positively beams - at least, she does after the kiss finishes. It's rather hard to smile, otherwise. "Good," is all she says, lazily. "Because I rather like my mouth, as it is. Not to mention yours."

G'wain yawns, and covers it with his hand. "Really?" He asks, though it comes out more of a 'Roooeearry?' He's not tired, it's just that he's lying in bed... it's the location. "I'm glad you like my mouth. I mean, what would you do if you didn't? Bite my lips off?" He winks, chuckling the whole while. The last came out as 'Bite mwy wips off', since he's made it look like he's got no lips by curving them over his teeth.

Lydiere regards G'wain for a long, thoughtful moment. "Are you going to fall asleep here, on me? Will I have to wake you up, too? Tsk." Head shaking, she explains, "I'd go to the healers, and see if they couldn't do something about. I imagine they could do *something* - even if it was just sliting the edges, to make it wider." Curiously, she frowns, adding, "I really hope you don't have a wip you want bitten."

G'wain shudders a little at the mention of slitting the edges. "That sounds painful. I think I'm quite glad you like my mouth the way that it is." He nods his head, much relieved - or at least, acting like he is. "I think falling asleep and being woken up might be nice. Though knowing you, it'd be with a bucket of cold water, not a kiss."

Lydiere smirks, although the very idea seems less than delightful to her own mind. "Yes. Feel *very* lucky. Not only would it be painful, but I imagine it'd look pretty awful for ages, *and* be completely unkissable until it healed." She flutters her eyelashes innocently, complaining, "You don't trust me! Although--what do you say to warm water?"

G'wain laughs. "Sorry. Couldn't do that. Totally unkissable... That's not doable. Though the rest of me would be fine..." He muses a grin on his face, before chuckling and shaking his head. "I do trust you. You know that. Just not when it comes to waking me up with /cold/ water! Warm water though... it depends. Is this warm meaning scalding hot, and do I have to clean up the bed afterwards?"

Lydiere - leers? - teasingly, but admits, "I think I'd miss the kissable part. So we're entirely better off without any modifications." She considers, fluffing up one of her pillows with an idle hand as she comes to some kind of conclusion. "Oh, I see. You trust me absolutely, without a doubt, except when there's water involved. Fine. And since when did 'warm' mean 'scalding'? You'd better darn well clean up the bed - I don't like wet sheets."

G'wain raises his eyebrows. "Hey, what's this? I get to clean up the bed, even though you tipped the water all over me? And you know that I trust you absolutely, without a doubt, all the time." He's at least serious there, though he becomes light again quickly. "If you don't like wet sheets, then don't pour water in the bed? I won't clean it up." He grins. "Unless I was the one that was pouring the water." Ping. Idea.

"What happens, then, if we *both* pour water on the bed?" Lydiere is sensible enough to add, "Although the reason why we would do such a thing is clearly beyond me. I don't get the impression that beds need watering to make them grow." She could, however, be wrong. "You'd have to clean up, because you caused the need for bed-watering. But as long as you trust me, all is good."

G'wain laughs, short and sharp. "Me? I caused the need for the bed-watering? How did I do that?" Talking as if it's already happened? "What about you, actually doing the deed. Still, I'm sure we could get a drudge in here..." He grins. "Then neither of us would have to do it."

Lydiere, mock-seriously, explains, "By falling asleep, you ensure that there is a need for bed-watering," not bed-wetting, however, at least, "Thus making it your fault. But...Yes, all right. A drudge could handle it quite well, I think. Although it'd certainly make us look eccentric."

G'wain shakes his head, grin fixed. "Eccentric? This is Ista. I kissed you on the hatching sands in front of many people and I didn't even get a blink of an eye. Well, almost. W'yn just laughed, and R'yn was appauled... But other than that, people just thought, 'Hey, it's Ista'. They expect eccentricity."

Lydiere points out, lips once again twitching, "You did a lot more than that on the hatching sands - but I don't think anyone actually saw *that* particular occasion. But I do still think there's a difference between surprise kisses and very, very wet beds." Well..yes.

G'wain gestures to the air with one hand, "They'd probably pity one of us," And the other hand points in the other direction, "thinking that the other was incontinent. They'd probably end up offering advice and remedies." He grins at this. "Can you imagine, the Weyr thinking that." Snicker.

"As long as they thought it about you, not me, I'm sure I'd find it very amusing," kids Lydiere, with a wink. "I do have to wonder, however, how we manage to get onto these odd conversations. Two people, lying quite comfortably in bed, talking about...wet beds. Does that not strike you as odd?"

G'wain lifts the shoulder that's off the bed in a shrug. "Not in the least. That's what I like. Can talk about anything at all, and neither of us really cares. Some people would... just stop talking of embarassment, or something. You don't. I rather find it funny. And it's not odd, dear. It's eccentric."

Lydiere's eyes roll, although her agreement is certainly well evident. "At least it brings some amusement into your life. I shan't complain. Eccentric. Surely that's just a different - if nicer - word for odd? Not that oddity is something bad."

G'wain chuckles. "It's what odd people call themselves to feel better." He explains, with a wink. "So, we're eccentric. Big deal. Not as odd as some, though. As long as we have fun, I'm not complaining."

"At least I don't attempt to break your feet, like Lymera does to R'yn," agrees Lydiere conversationally, shifting her position once more as pillows are fluffed up. "No complaints from he, either. To be truthful," and she grins, "I don't mind *what* we do are say, as long as it's 'we'." Aww.

G'wain blinks at the revelations. "She breaks his /feet/?" He asks. Apparently there are acceptable levels of eccentricity... and not so acceptable levels. "Geez... How does she do that?" Scooting across the bed, G'wain wraps his arms around Lydiere. "That does inclue Ahreluth and Llysereth, as well, of course..." But he can't get off the feet thing. "Feet? Really? How?"

Lydiere shifts her position, nestling into G'wain comfortably as his arms wrap about her. "Attempts to - sometimes. Steps on 'em, I guess. I saw it, once. They're...not really a couple, I suppose, but sometimes R'yn tries to be. Of course it includes Llysereth and Ahreluth," she adds in agreement, leaning bcakwards. "You really don't like the feet, do you?"

G'wain would facepalm if he had a free hand. "Feet... I don't believe it. That's just... wrong. She tries to... break his feet?" He starts to laugh at this. "I'll have to keep an eye out... this is something I've got to see for myself." Settling, he holds he close. "I like not having to get up. It's nice. Hmm... Say, what did you mean about them not being a couple?"

"Agreed," says Lydiere cheerfully, "But we all know that our Weyrwoman is more than just eccentric. Ooh, just stay around them for a little while, and they'll be sure to fight it out somehow. Feet may, or may not, be involved." She mmms, snuggling in against G'wain, adding, "Me, too. Very nice. -- Oh. Well, R'yn's pretty much head over heals for Lymera, but she tends to fight rather than anything else. He says that she won't have him, although I don't know for sure."

G'wain shakes his head as if to clear it. It's all so confusing. "Oh well... I suppose that they'll work it out eventually... Or perhaps not. Who knows, really... Maybe Lymera's baby..." He shrugs a little. "Might calm her a little if she keeps it. She might foster it out, though. Up to her." Tread carefully, G'wain. "Maybe he's provoking her to fight because he's not really ready for that sort of relationship... It might not be Lymera's fault..." All these theories.

Lydiere shifts her head to stare up at G'wain, eyebrows raised. "Or maybe not. Truthfully, though, I don't much care - it's all their business, not mine. Even if it is wacky, and probably quite bad for both of them." Especially their feet.