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.

11-02-02: Dinner and a song
G'wain organizes a romantic dinner for himself and Lydiere that goes completely wrong... and then completely right.

Off to one side of the Living Caverns, there's a table set up, just for two people, and they've even gone to the trouble to try and keep the entire place clear. Candles set up, G'wain's fussing over something or other, making sure everything is /just right/. Heading back towards the kitchens, he's forgotten those match-things, and so turns around to retrieve them, looking restless and like he's pacing. Which he's doing.

And that surprises Lydiere, rather dramatically. Looking - well, at least slightly uncomfortable, in a dress for once - she strides into the caverns, stopping short. That's when the smile - amused, surprised, pleased - crosses her face, and she rapidly moves across the caverns, heedless of her skirt to grab for G'wain's arm. "Well."

G'wain's arm is caught and he whirls around. Definately restless, and are those cuts on his fingers? "Lydiere!" He near cries, hastening to move her towards the table to sit down. This has to be perfect. It just has to... "Sit down..." He gestures to the table. He even got one of those bottle things for the wine to go in. "Everything's almost ready." It just /has/ /to/ /be/ /perfect/.

Lydiere's lips twitch - now she's really amused, at his fussing, although she follows directions rapidly. She sits, smoothing down her skirt and then resting hands upon the edge of the table, eyes resting expectantly upon G'wain. "Er--thank you. It looks--wonderful." She schools her face, as if deciding that amusement is not the right emotion, allowing her features to reflect only delight - which is no less a truly felt emotion, nonetheless.

Of course she's amused. He'd be amused if he wasn't so determined. And those /are/ cuts on his hands. Moving around behind her, he takes the bottle from the ice bucket thing - he doesn't understand the use. It's a nice white. Hope she likes white... and if one was to check the label, hasitly scrawled, it's Benden too. "I... just wanted to do something for you..." He says, his delight in her delight serving to calm him, if only a little. Pouring the wine with a slightly less than steady hand (Not enough to spill, of course) he pours some for himself as well, pausing to explain. "I'll just go and get the first course." There's more than one?

"And it's perfect," she responds, expression no less gleaming than before. "Absolutely. No one's ever done anything like this for me before." Even if she does have to wear a dress, which gets another tug. "/First/ course? Wow." Her eyes catch upon the cuts on G'wain's hands, and she hesitates, but evidently finds it not quite right to make comment, instead, reaching for her wine glass, fingers wrapping about it, thoughtfully.

G'wain disappears into the kitchens, and after a while, he returns with a salad. Crisp leaves of some vegetable or another - G'wain didn't take the time to learn the names of them - are tossed with small red tomato-looking cubes, as well as rings of what seems to be onion, and through it all are slivered nuts. In his other hand is the dressing, a slightly viscous vinegarette, herbs floating within. Since he disappeared so quickly, he really only caught that it's perfect, the rest lost in his haste. Setting down the carved wooden bowl with the salad, and the glass jug with the dressing, he seats himself - nothing else is cooking... it's all just being kept warm, or cold, as the case may be. "Here..." He offers the serving utensils to her, relaxing... It's getting easier as he goes.

And again, Lydiere is impressed. "Faranth's toenails, you must have gone out of your way for this," she comments, accepting the serving utensils to serve herself, offering them back as she lifts up the dressing. "It looks wonderful. I--really don't know what to say, honestly." She lifts up her fork, then waits for G'wain himself to be ready to eat, adding, very softly, "Except, I suppose, thank you."

And he has been to a lot of trouble for this, it seems, though he does accept her compliment gracefully. "You look like you went to a lot of trouble yourself. You look... stunning." Taking up the enlarged wooden spoon and fork, G'wain serves himself some of the salad. Not much, since he's not a salad man, really, but enough. "You're welcome." This isn't just for Lydiere, it's for /Lydiere/.

Lydiere glances down at her outfit somewhat ruefully, giving the dress another tug with an uncomfortable motion. "I do? Oh...thank you, then. I guess, for what it is--" For whatever reason, she rather rapidly stops that particular line of conversation - quite possibly because it doesn't quite seem right, in such a--romantic setting), insted forking up a solid mouthful of her salad, which is rapidly deposited in her mouth, and chewed. "Tastes as good as it looks!" For salad.

Not that romantic, really, but he tried. He had to keep it close to the kitchens, and he couldn't think of anywhere else. All rather open. Taking up the dressing, he uses a liberal amount, probably to disguise the taste of the greens. At least she's being nice about his cooking. I really didn't know what to do. He had to come in and ask a cook. She, however, didn't say she liked it. But he's not that observant. He's just happy she seems to be happy. "I heard that Qyh's going to be unavaliable for a sevenday or two. We'll have to postpone that picnic." He doesn't really know what to do now he's here.

Better than a normal dinner, bunched in with everyone else in the caverns. Besides which, it doesn't take much to make Lydiere happy, and she /is/ happy, by her expression. She's also evidently hungry, and nearly gulps down her salad - perhaps she's just impatient for the more interesting parts of the meal. No sense of dignity; she's got elbows on the table, too. "Oh? That's a shame. I suppose in terms of the weyrlings, though, a sevenday or two won't make much difference. Still, as soon as she's available again, we ought to make our move."

G'wain nods his head. "You're right, as usual..." He smiles as he picks up his wine, swilling it in his glass before taking a sip. He doesn't want to rush, but Ahreluth's outside with a sign around his neck. Well, that, and G'wain is somewhat at a loss for what to talk about. Getting her here was one thing.. "I heard the the weyrlings will be flying soon, and I wanted to get up there before they could between themselves. I would have preferred earlier than them flying, but... It's the thought that counts, right?"

"'As usual'? I thought I was usually wrong," retorts Lydiere with a grin of sorts - although she, too, is beginning to find herself at a loss of how to keep conversation going. Such an odd feeling. She, too, gathers up her wine glass, and takes a sip, murmuring, "Nice. Well...I'm not really a fan of the berry flavours, even if the newly cut hay isn't bad." That must have been a joke. Of sorts. "It is. And you were good to think of it, at least in my opinion."

G'wain's never really been at a loss for words, and all the formality is... killing him, to a point. Looking down and shaking his head, once he lifts it, he's all smiles. "You know what..." He starts, sure she's probably just as uncomfortable, "How about we just give this up. It's not... /us/." She knows what he means by that - she must. "I don't know what else we can do... But there most be something less... Uncomfortable."

Lydiere's sigh is a release of pent up air, and a definite sign of relief. "Oh, Faranth - I didn't want to say...But yes." She drops her fork to her plate, hands moving to rest against the edge of the table. "It /was/ a good idea, but you're right. It just doesn't seem to feel...comfortable. Sitting here. Being formal, sort of." Stretching her shoulders, she hesitates, "Why don't we take the food - or some food, anyway - and go somewhere we can relax a little. Be ourselves."

G'wain's smile is broad. "Most of my ideas are... good in theory, but in practice... They don't seem to work too well. Can't say I didn't try, though," he shrugs, only a little disappointed that it didn't work. "There are carry cases that were made by the PlasicCraft, I think, that are supposed to keep food warm, or cold, so that's no worry. My dragon is your..." Chariot. Only they don't exist. "dragon. Where would you like to go?" He asks. He might not be great at planning things, but he's the master of imporvisation. Kind of.

"It's the thought that counts?" suggests Lydiere, nudging at her fork with a thoughtful finger. "And I appreciate that much. Very much. Probably, for lots of other couples, it'd be a wonderful idea. We're just peculiar." That seems, oddly, to satisfy her. "Ooh, ooh, I get to ride /your/ dragon? See, that makes the whole evening worthwhile. Do you know how rarely a person gets to ride someone else's dragon?" Perhaps there's a note of teasing in there, but her grin is honest. "I have no idea. Somewhere private, and out of the way, I suppose. Any ideas?"

G'wain stands to move around to Lydiere, holding out his arm regally. "You... wouldn't want to change first?" He asks, grinning, knowing that yes, she probably would. And that gives him time to get things ready. And get that stupid sign off Ahreluth, that'll let people back into the Living Caverns. What /does/ that sign say that kept /everyone/ out? "Something you can swim in. I know just the place, I believe."

And again: tug, tug, at the dress, Lydiere's face brightening many times over at the thought. "Oh, excellent! I have to tell you, dear, that I'll do many things for you - but dressing up is one I prefer to avoid, if it's at all possible." For future reference, perhaps. "Wonderful. Shall I get changed, and meet you outside, shortly?" She pauses.

G'wain waves Lydiere out to get changed, himself heading towards the kitchens. "See you soon." This is turning out better than planned.

Lydiere's out of her seet within a moment, heedless once more of her skirts - which probably deserve to get a good tear in them - as she makes a dash for the door. "I can hardly wait," she calls back, laughing, as she gives up and gathers up the skirt in her hands to hold as she runs. There. Much more comfortable.

There's a sign around Ahreluth's neck, the dragon parked in front of the main entrance to the living caverns. It reads, "Lymera on the rampage in the Living Caverns. This has been a general service announcement." Lets just hope that no-one that really /matters/ saw that... It is rather late in the evening.

G'wain slips out of the Living Caverns, a glaringly bright foil looking thing under his arm. It's meant to keep the heat, or cold, in. And against the cold of between... He mills around, waiting for Lydiere. He's discarded his more formal clothes for his usual leather vest, the bundle under his arm cradled carefully. Hurry up... Though if dessert melts, he can just take it between to re-freeze it.

Lydiere, perhaps, was in a hurry - she's not gone merely for casual, she's gone for tatty, and looking rather the more comfortable for it. Striding back down the ramp, she notes, "Lymera'll kill you, if she finds out about that sign, but I rather like you for it, methinks. A good touch." She skips - well, almost; she's a little too old for that, now - down towards G'wain and Ahreluth, digging hands deep into her pockets. "I'm ready."

G'wain nods, and has since taken down that sign, a grin on his face. "I needed something that would keep people out without too many questions. That seemed to fit... Even R'yn'd stay away if he say that. Though if Lymera saw it..." He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know what I'd do." Gesturing to her 'chariot', he waves an arm. "Up you go." He'd help, but he's going to pass up the food.

"Depending on her mood, she might even have found it amusing," declares Lydiere with a wry grin, hands dug out of pockets again. "I rather think we'd have found that much out, though, if she had." Her head tips towards Ahreluth, as she moves towards him, mounting easily; "One needs just a slight bit less pull than with Llysereth. Nice."

[Atop Ahreluth]

Achingly pure, a soft, feather-like touch descends on your mind, tendrils of smoke curling ever so carefully to speak to you in a faint, but noticable echo of G'wain. << Keep hold, Lydiere. >> Even in that, there is something quivering, an undertone of unsurety, yet his moves speak otherwise as G'wain mounts, oblivious to the contact.

Lydiere blinks several times, as she settles herself, her hand touching against neckridge as she finds her--"Faranth's nosehair," she murmurs, surprised. Then, very softly, her tone almost hesitant: "I'm holding." Another few blinks follow, as she holds out her arms to take the food, should it be required.

Ahreluth is high up, and G'wain has to half mount before he can pass over the food, so in the end, he just manages to mount singlehandedly. It's no easy task, that is, until Ahreluth helps him out leaning over so that G'wain's got a less steep gradient to scale. Settling as Ahreluth rights himself, G'wain pats the bronzen neck under himself. "You know where to go." Indded he does.

You spread your mighty wings and leap into the air, surging upwards.

G'wain looks back to Lydiere, a short warning of the coming between before all three disappear.

Away from Ahreluth, Ahreluth suddenly disappears -=* BETWEEN *=-

Between

Darkness and cold like you can't imagine. Nothing to see, feel or hear, except the beating of your heart.

Then, as suddenly as you entered the emptiness...

White Sands Cove(#3167RAFJLeh)

Away from Ahreluth, Ahreluth suddenly reappears from -=* BETWEEN *=-

G'wain swings down from Ahreluth's neck.

You step down from Ahreluth's back.

"Feels odd," says Lydiere, peering about at the cove in obvious delight. "Not being the one to signal between. And Ahreluth flies differently from Llysereth. Not, of course," she adds, for the bronze's sake, as she dismounts, "That that's a bad thing. Just different. Thank you, Ahreluth, for taking us."

Ahreluth flies around the cove carefully, his arc allowing for a view of the cove before he makes his descent, allowing the riders to dismount. The rememberance of a smell of smoke and shadow never left, the whole journey, yet now they retreat, the barely noticable touch fading, << You're welcome. >> G'wain is still quite oblivious - he doesn't follow Ahreluth's every thought - and finding dismounting easier, he falls to the sand. "Maxanth told Ahreluth of this place. I've never been here... But Ahreluth recommended it from what he knew."

Again, Lydiere gives Ahreluth a somewhat surprised glance, her head tipping towards the bronze in acknowledgement of his words, although she makes no audible reference to it. "I've never been here, either. I swear J'ran knows all the best places - he's been everywhere, it seems." Her boots are kicked off comfortably, as she takes a step forward, remarking, "Much more--still, I suppose, than the beaches back at Ista usually are."

G'wain chuckles softly, spreading out the foil lined package on the sand. Ahreluth doesn't seem to acknowledge Lydiere further, though those that know him better would swear he was blushing. "It /is/ white sand instead of black. Almost exotic?" He jokes, setting everything up. Now it's just a picnic, nothing traditionally romantic about it, though the setting, and the parties involved might make it so easily. "The food is still good, though." Should have brought some firestone... Ahreluth could cook! "I think it's still hot."

"Oh, very exotic," agrees Lydiere with a chuckle, moving to sit upon the white sand, her toes digging in to the still-warm grains beneath her feet. "Different. But I like it, the whiteness." She stretches out, making herself quite comfortable, her eyes seeking out the food: "We'd better eat it, then, before it cools down too much. Besides which, I'm hungry." Was that her stomach rumbling? Oh, very romantic.

G'wain sits close to Lydiere, his smile as he takes the main couse out of the coverings clear that the salad was nothing, to him. "Well, you had better have some." Hope he bought plates, as well as utensils...? He did. There. Placing the fish onto a plate, the white flesh is suprisingly still steaming. It might not be presented all that well now, but the smells coming from it might be eticing. "It's stuffed with mushrooms, peppers, herbs, and the like." Just hope that she likes fish.

Lydiere's eyebrows raise, as she watches the removal of the coverings, regarding the fish with honest interest: "Wow. I've never heard of doing fish with that kind of thing. It looks incredible." A seacrafter who doesn't like fish? There's got to be something wrong with that particular possibility. On the contrary, as she sniffs the plate, her smile is approving. "Did you make it all yourself?"

G'wain nods his head quickly. That's what makes it so special. "The cooks gave me the recipes - One in paticular, actually. She was cleaning up, and since I'd done it all before, I gave her some tips. She lent me the recipes. She watched, but I did /everything/." He's paticularly proud of that fact. Even cleaned the fish himself. His firelizards caught /them/. That's probably were all the cuts came from - gutting the fish. Dishing up his own piece of fish, he hands over the knife and fork to Lydiere. He knew fish would be pretty safe. "Baked, too. Not grilled, or fried."

Lydiere's head shakes, as she comments, "I didn't know that you could cook. I mean...I guess I don't think of it as a common ability in people, because I don't seem to converse with many...non riders who aren't otherwise occupied in their time. If you know what I mean. But you did good, if the smell is anything to go by." Knife and fork are accepted, as she begins to cut up her piece - which falls apart perfectly; she's even more impressed.

G'wain tries to brush it all off, "I worked in the kitchens at Ista before I was even searched. You don't stay in there without learning /something/," He indicates. "While I was peeling tubers - even through candidacy - I'd hear them talk. Do this. Do that. You learn a lot from that. I also did most of the cooking when I was with my old company. Had to go and find them a few sevendays ago, for some re-training. J'ran's orders. I'm going to have to go away to them soon, or try and get them to come here." He pauses in his talking to attack his own fish - he's rather hungry, too. His fish didn't work as well as hers, and for that, he's greatful. It was for her, not him - he's more enjoyng her enjoyment, than the meal itself.

"Don't be modest," retorts Lydiere with amusement, as she begins to devour - although with slightly less speed - her fish. "I hope you can get them to come here, then," she comments quickly, between mouthfuls. "Or rather - Ista. You better be able to, anyway." She adds, returning to the original subject, her tone thoughtfull, "I never really learnt - never had to. Candidate chores, certainly, but besides that, I was always doing different chores, as an apprentice, and before then."

G'wain nods his head, eating his fish carefully. She'd better not choke. Nah-uh. The fish rapidly disappearing from his plate, there's only a couple of stray bones that he had to pick out. He's almost suprised at himself. "You've pretty much seen all that I'm good at, though. You'll have to take me... Sailing." He says, grinning as he finishes off his fish.

Lydiere finishes her fish at much the same time, the last mouthful happily swallowed with a smile of contentedness. "Huh. I bet there's plenty more that you're good at that I'll come across, over the turns." That much earns an affirming nod, as she puts the plate down, smiling lazily. "Sailing, yes. We must do that at some stage."

Soon after, two firelizards enter on the scene, the largest two that G'wain has, his bottomless stomachs, Giles and Willow. Where /did/ he get the names? Passing a small parcel to each, he gets Ahreluth to instruct them, and struggling only slightly, the enter into between and come back out again, switching places with each other. Was that choreographed? No matter, what was there has re-frozen, and G'wain passes one of the cold parcels to Lydiere after opening it. "Redfruit sorbet." Did you think you were getting away without something redfruit?

Lydiere pauses, eyes flicking upwards to watch the pair of firelizards curiously - their movements obviously not comprehended in context for sevearl moments. The frozen package, however, is met with a lit face: "Ah! I should have guessed. Redfruit." Ubiqutious, but good-tasting all the same. "Good taste, there." She grins, sitting back more comfortably, adding, "Good trick with the firelizards. Mine'd never listen to me - or Llysereth, for that matter - and manage it."

G'wain chuckles softly. "I've always been good with the animals, but.. They seem to lisen to Ahreluth. Not me. He just asks them to do things, and they just do them. I don't understand it, but I like it." He shrugs his shoulders, and unwraps his package. "That wasn't my trick, however. Jessamy - she's a cook at Ista - said that the other cooks sometimes did that. There's a risk of the 'lizard dropping it, but... it's minimal. I didn't have an extra, so I just told Ahreluth to tell them to hold on tight." He grins, and digs in. This guy just likes redfruit too much.

"I think I should buy you a redfruit tree for your next turnday," announces Lydiere, having nodded as she listens to the explanation of the re-freezing trick. "Then you'll never even have to leave the...ledge, I suppose, to get your fix." She's noticed the redfruit fixation, she has. For the moment, however, she, too, digs in to her sorbet with obvious relish, digging her toes deeper into the pale sand. "I'm glad they didn't drop it," she comments, at last, "It's good!"

You know what - that's probably the best idea for a present that /anyone/ could give him. Ever. "I... was denied them as a child. Looked forward to eating one for so long, that when I had it, it was better than I could have ever hoped." He chuckles. "Couldn't stop eating them. For a time, I actually ate them for all three meals... But when I started to.. well... get ill," He dances around that carefully, "I had to have them with meals. It's like an addiction! But I'm over that." He should join RedFruit Lovers Anon. "I'm glad too, becuase then /I/ wouldn't have got any." At her insistance that it's actully edible, he grins, setting his down to get the wine out again. "I could't leave this in the Living Caverns. Wonder if they culd take that between too, to chill it.." He muses, considering the risk.

Next turnday gift decided upon. That was easy. Lydiere nods. "I can see why you'd want to! And they /are/ good; there's just something about them. All juicy, and...sweet, but without being cloying. It was something I delighted in, when I ended up down at Ierne: they were far more plentiful, than up Tillek, Telgar of Fort-ways." Lips twitching, she adds, "I'm very glad you got over the three-meals thing before /I/ knew you." Her eyebrows lift at the wine, then she considers, thoughtfully, "It's perhaps a bit heavier. But...Hmm. Possible."

Very easy, actually. A redfruit a day keeps G'wain... at bay? "I don't care what it is about them, really," He says, grinning. "I just love them. And I suppose that I always will. But you have to be careful of the soul. IT's like wine. If it's Tillek, it can be acidic. Here, they're sweeter. It depends." Bespeaking Ahreluth, G'wain's firelizards make a reappearance. "They can list this, right?" Grabbing a hold of each side of the small carry case, the 'lizards rise up. "Careful now..." He cautions, and they disappear.

"Yes," argues Lydiere, "But there /has/ to be something about them that makes you love them. To my mind, anyway." Her shoulders shrug, as she continues to lick at her spoon, the sorbet disappearing quickly enough. "Ah, yes. Because the soil is richer, here - all the volcanic stuff, I suppose. And it's warmer. More sun." Her eyes lift upwards, watching the firelizards carefully: "Here's hoping it comes out in one piece!"

And they emerge... Bottle intact. Phew. Lets just hope that it's not frozen, either. No, it's not. "That was lucky." He motions, grinning. "I don't think that I want to do that again." There's some left over fish over in the packages, and G'wain 'fishes' it out, handing it to the 'lizards. "Thanks, guys..." They can fight over it. If they can get it out of the packaging. They'll manage. "Thanks Ahreluth." That sorbet disappeared quicker than G'wain thought, and he sets the empty bowl down to rummage for some wine glasses. "A-ha." There they are. Pouring a glass each, he hands one to Lydiere with a slight flourish. "This was a better idea than staying there."

Lydiere tilts her head towards the firelizards, and then G'wain, agreeing: "Lucky, yes. Also just a good idea, which we trusted in. Thankfully, I don't think either of us would have been horrified at the loss, if it hadn't been so lucky." Putting down her own bowl, Lydiere accepts the glass, lifting it up for a toast of some kind: "A much better idea. I'm having a good time." It's hard not to, of course, but she's truthful in her response, adding, "Of course, it was simply a good idea in the first place. You were--sweet, to think of it."

G'wain smiles, and with a nod of his head he agrees. But, she can speak for herself about not being horrified at the loss. Do you know how many marks went into that bottle, and that wine? It's a /darn/ good vintage -- or so he was lead to believe. Lifting his glass, it's hard to tell, but is that a blush there? "To us?" He asks, and considers adding more before leaving it at simply that. Yep, it's a blush.

What Lydiere doesn't know can't hurt her - and thus, blisfuly aware, she lifts her own glass up in agreement, "To us, then." Pause. "You're blushing!" She evidently finds that cute, and grnins, downing a sip from her glass to cemenet the toast. "For--as long as it can last, and longer."

What she said afterwards was far nicer, and much more meaningful than what he was considering. "To us." And yes, he is blushing, and trying to hide it too. "It's the wine," He comments, and takes a sip. Farath's talon-clippings, it is. She called him sweet, and said his ideas were good. Moving around the makeshift picnic, G'wain sets himself up behind Lydiere, his legs out to either side of her. If she leans back, he'd make a nice couch.

How can Lydiere resist such a comfortable couch, right there at her service? Grinning, she leans back, settling herself comfortably as she takes another sip of her wine. "Oh, the wine. I believe you. -- I still haven't seen you drunk, you know. Do you just turn red, or is there more to it than that?" What a charming way to end the evening, not.

She can't resist, obviously. "I go red. I get loud... Not good. I got drunk when Lymera was announcing J'ran's wing, and I just kept shouting... Or so I was told." He goes an even deeper red at that. "I couldn't remember a thing." He sighs somewhat dejectedly, and sets down the empty wineglass after draining it, wrapping his arms around Lydiere. Content.

"Maybe I'm better off not seeing that, then," muses Lydiere, resting her own hands atop G'wain's comfortably, as she lazes back. Her own wine is finished, with a gulp - some classy drinker is she, not - and placed down, as she adds, "Me, I feel just the same as ever, except that I can't get my words out properly."

G'wain chuckles softly, and didn't quite mention that he also gets amorous? Brushing her hair out of the way, he bends his head slightly to kiss her neck. "I wish it had that sort of effect on me," He says, between the soft little kisses. "But it doesn't." Shame, really. Maybe it's the redfruits, and the night, and the fact that he's not in a crowd, but he's not getting loud, and that's a good thing(tm).

Isn't he /always/ amorous? Almost. She doesn't quite wiggle upon application of kisses, although the first earns something resembling a wiggle; perhaps she's slightly ticklish? Movement ceases after that first, however, as she adds, "Each to their own. I was always rather disappointed at not being...loud and obnoxious. Perhaps I was that, anyway. In those days." Indeed - the quietness is rather better than loudness.

Nah... not always. Just... most of the time. Hey, he's young. That, and we don't see Lydiere complaining at all, dop we? The kisses continue, oblivious to any wiggling. "I have always been loud... and at times, obnoxious. Ahreluth helped, but." The constant silence grows on you. "Ahh, the memories?" He says, with a grin. "Our first kiss... How... memorable."

Lydiere, complain? Point taken. "Lucky. I think I stopped being obnoxious," refutable, debatable, "with Llysereth. She's too sweet. As for being loud, well..." She pauses, her face breaking into a smile, although that's potentially difficult to discern, from G'wain's position. "What, on the hatching sands? Before Ahreluth? You could say that. The second wasn't bad, either, I'll have to say." Again, on the hatching sands. This is tradition, obviously.

G'wain almost has a coughing fit. Llysereth? Sweet? << She is... >> Ahreluth chimes in. He thinks so, too. Reaching up a hand to Lydiere's chin, G'wain attempts to turn it so that he can see her a little more clearly. "I honestly couldn't believe that I did that. And then, when I did, that W'yn laughed. Even if R'yn wanted to kill me..." He trails off, leaning his neck forward to kiss Lydiere if he was successful maneuvering her chin.

It isn't actually the most comfortable of positions for Lydiere, but she rather easily allows her head to be moved, adding, "Don't look like that. She /is/, except when anything 'nasty' is involved." That's when she's the raging demon type. She leans up to the kiss, comfortably responding to it, although, as she finally breaks away, she adds, "You rather surprised me. Like...hugely. At least it made the whole thing memorable."

It might not be the most comfortable, but he soon lets her go, returning his hand to where the other lies, across her stomach, and he doesn't start up those little kisses again, either, seemingly content to just sit there. "It was a bet. Ly'ette kissed me - on the leg, mind - and in return I had to kiss you. But I got a bump on the head, and forgot, finally remembering as having to kiss the Weyr. Got a few people, too. S'er, Magi, Kasholan, and a few others."

"She was proddy?" asks Lydiere, thoughtful, twining her fingers through G'wain's. "I do remember you kissing S'er. He was /not/ impressed, to say the least. But I didn't have a clue what it was all about. Somehow," she grins, ruefully, "everyone forgot to tell me that much. I suppose it would have spoilt the reaction."

G'wain nods his head. "Yes, she was proddy. Her dragon put a gash in my leg." He's got the scar, too. "I got her to kiss it better, but only if I'd kiss you. S'er was not impressed because I licked him." Snicker. "I would have ruined it, though, if you had of been told. I'm glad you weren't. Created a stir, /that/ day." He grins. "Who would have known it wuld end up like this, though."

Lydiere laughs. "Ayath always was an odd one. Especially when proddy. Seems a /long/ time ago, that I was a weyrling with her." Her head tilts into a nod, as she agrees, "It would have. Even though I was trying desperately to be--well behaved, and somewhat formal. I wanted everything to go perfectly, and then you kissed me, and Br'ce Impressed. A stir and a half, I'd say." Smoothing her fingers over yours, thoughtfully, she grins: "I certainly never imagined it. Not for a moment."

G'wain nods his head in accord with Lydiere's words. "Yes, she is. Doesn't like men at /all/. Only Ly'ette hadn't realised that Ayath was proddy, so she asked me to help wash her." He rolls his eyes, probably not visible. "I don't think you'd have that problem with Llysereth -- Not knowing, that is." He grins. "It did go perfectly, though. All the hatchlings impressed - I found Ahreluth, very few got hurt, and nothing untoward happened."

Well, nothing untoward in /G'wain's/ view.

"Ly'ette was never the brightest glow in the bucket about proddiness," agrees Lydiere. "She was horribly nervous about the whole thing, whereas I was rather...well, eager for it all." Again, she nods, adding, "I don't think Llysereth could catch me unawares. I'm entirely lucid, then, just...I can still remember that headache. Painfully." She smiles, her lips twitching; "Depends upon your definition of 'untoward', I suppose."

G'wain chuckles softly at Lydiere's assessment of Ly'ette. He'll have to remember that. "You were... eager?" He asks, with a grin. "I'm sure that Llysereth dissuaded you of that in short order..." He says, the chuckle still resonanting in his voice. "I'll help you with that headache, though I'm not that good at it. Mother was better. Maybe it'll be different now Ahreluth's there? Who knows. I couldn't believe that Ahreluth won, though."

"Ah, that was the whole thing, see. I'd just spent more than a turn and a half celibate, and Llysereth was horrified at my wanting to have casual sex with anyone. So...I looked forward to it, hoping that she'd lighten up, somewhat." Lydiere's tone is wry, and with amusement. "It didn't work exactly as I planned, I admit. -- You did well, last time, as I recall. I hope it /is/ better. I guess we'll find out...sooner or later." She grimaces, adding, dryly, "I couldn't believe that he did, either. You weren't even graduated - and I felt old. But I'm glad he did."

G'wain laughs. "I assure you, you didn't /feel/ old," he says ever so softly, and in a deeper voice than normal. "And you certainly don't feel old now." He may have been a weyrling then, but now he's not. "Ahreluth is just... more mature than he lets on." And that certainly is true, if ever he would open up and to the other dragons. Even Llysereth hasn't gotten to the bottom of him yet. "Though I'll admit, he has no comprehension of the /strangest/ things."

Lydiere echoes the laugh, fingers still smoothing over G'wain's. "Just mature and wordly wise, right?" she teases, at her own expense, although she admits, "I feel much younger, these days, even though I'm older. That's odd, to my mind. -- He is, evidently. He's...I don't know. I suppose I don't know him all that well at all, either." She pauses, adding, "Like what?"

G'wain chuckles softly. "Well, he understands quite a lot, without me having to explain it. Love, for example. He knows the difference between brotherly, and the way that I love you." There's a signifigant pause there. "But, take for example..." G'wain searched his mind, "When he was young, he couldn't understand that the meat that I hacked up for him used to be a herdbeast." There's a shrug of the shoulders there. "Strange. And there are other things, too, but I can't really remember. I just explain them to him, and he doesn't ask again. Good memory, for a dragon."

Lydiere's grasp upon G'wain's hands tightens into a squeeze, perhaps a wordless reciprocation of his own sentiments, as she nods. "Ah. That is...peculiar, I suppose, and yet, it doesn't seem that bad. He can see and feel love, in you, but the whole meat thing, he couldn't draw things together with." She hesitates, and then adds, as if to be safe, "I suppose. Llysereth tends to just pick things up, sometimes. She deals in emotions, more than words, a lot of the time."

G'wain rests his chin lightly on Lydiere's shoulder, not wanting to hurt her. "i don't know what it is, really. He seems to just not talk. I mean, he will if it suits him, or of he needs to, but most of the time, he's silent... But constant." He shrugs his shoulders once more, and reasserts his grip arund Lydiere. "I don't think that I understand Llysereth. Maybe one day. Ahreluth thinks she's sweet, too, but I can't really see it, when she's most of the time, grumpy?" He half asks. "Perhaps that's just her manner. I like her, though." Of course he does.

Lydiere lifts one hand to move up and smooth at G'wain's cheek - here's hoping she has good aim, and doesn't go for a good poke in the eye, instead - as sh enods. "Dragons strike me as being peculiar, sometimes. Ours especially." Or perhaps it's just that she knows Llysereth and Ahreluth best. "She's very sweet, very...gentle, desperate to please, except for the fact that she doesn't much like the idea of sex, or even, to some point, romance. So perhaps she's not quite her usual self around you." She pauses, and then laughs. "You better like her!"

Of course her aim is right - she knows him well. "Well, I suppose that it is because they're peculiar. Each one is different, and each one has different bits and pieces that only their riders know about. Their riders then let people in on some things, but the others they just take for granted and forget about. Then there's the stuff that everyone knows. Ahreluth is silent, and thinks he should be small..." Pausing, he takes what Lydiere has said into consideration. "Maybe I should have a talk to her via Ahreluth one day. I want her to like me..." he says softly. That would be bad, Llysereth not liking him. "Oh, I do like her."

Thankfully. It'd be horribly unromantic, if she decked him one by accident. Instead of responding vocally, she makes a 'mmm' sound, finally adding, "You could try that, yes. Talking to Llysereth, via Ahreluth. Or you could try talking to her, directly, although I don't know how she'd respond to that. No one's ever tried." She smiles, adding, "I don't think she dislikes you, per se, just the--way my mind becomes, thanks to you." Hot, sweaty, and probably not all that virtuous.

Who needs virtuosity, afterall. "Not all the time..." He offers, with a pout. "I hope I'm not than just a sex object!" He teasingly voices, though if you're listening carefully, that's quite insecure. Heading onto another topic, he considers waht she's said, once more. "I might, at that. Get Ahreluth to relay the answers. Might be better."

Lydiere reaches up to plant a kiss upon G'wain's cheek, finding herself unable to quite reach any further without moving too much - which she'd rather not do. "Of course you are, dear. A person doesn't love another person /just/ for the sake of sex. And no, not all the time. That'd get quite boring." She nods once more, adding, "I think she'd be pleased at that. You taking the effort."

G'wain nods his head. "Then I will." It is decidedly so. He's also lost that insecurity, at Lydiere's words. "Some of the time, though..." he grins, slowly moving around to the front of Lydiere. "I'm sure you don't mind it." It's the wine, really.