Hot and Bothering

Writers: Iluva, Sia
Date Posted: 28th June 2024

Characters: R'fayne, O'rosin
Description: Obrosin isn't used to the lack of a dress code at Dolphin Cove Weyr
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 9, day 25 of Turn 11

R'fayne

O'rosin

The Weyr was stressful.

Nudity didn't bother Obrosin. He'd seen naked people before, but it was purely utilitarian. He'd changed diapers and got his younger siblings dressed. It was close quarters on the ships, and _hot_ below decks. It wasn't anything like it was at the Weyr, where any layer of clothes seemed more like a suggestion than basic decency. Even in the Dining Hall, amongst all the riders and crafters and _people_, everyone seemed like they were in some state of undress.

Obrosin tried to keep his eyes focused on his plate in front of him. He glanced up, periodically, trying hard not to let his gaze linger over anyone's bare skin, and not being entirely successful.

Across the table Rilfayne wondered what sort of game he'd unwittingly taken up. Despite S’fayal insisting they weren’t late, it had been well into the evening meal when Tioruth finally dropped him off and with his hair still damp with the surf and sea, he couldn’t say he’d afforded much thought to which seat he finally claimed.

The dining hall was nothing but a thick hazing of the senses, equal parts crowded and stifling. So, every inch tired, lax, languorous, he chatted with a few of the others about an afternoon of getting splashed by his brother’s bronze and riding waves of wind on his neck.

Except every now and then - a faint impulse. Somewhere just beyond knowing. Each time his eyes flicked back the others had already run. It was a little amusing actually, and when a few others finished he stopped ignoring it. Rifayne asked, “Prefer something else?” with an incredibly vague nod to Obrosin's plate.

"Hm?" Obrosin asked, almost entirely unaware of who was talking until he glanced up again. Oh. Oh no. He tried not to let his eyes focus too hard on the damp curls and bronzed skin. He didn't know _exactly_ what Rilfayne meant, but he doubted it was anything to do with the tubers on his plate. He stabbed them a little too hard with his fork. "You're gonna be sunburned."

That nearly pushed Rilfayne’s lips into a smirk. “I am? Funny, it doesn’t hurt.” He was neither surprised nor skeptical as he straightened out of his slump and split an already open shirt. Examining where sore muscles met heated skin, he debated what was burned and what was flushed beneath the hair, though it was a little hard to tell. "Hm, yeah maybe.”

“You've spent a lot of time outdoors.” Given the freckles, the shaggy bleached hair, the roughened skin, it was obviously not a question. Rilfayne looked at him much longer than Obrosin had, and then took a long drink of water, rivers of condensation sliding down the glass. “What were you doing? Before getting Searched?”

Obrosin inspected where Rilfayne's hands led with all the acuity of someone who may not be entirely focused on sunburns. His own clothes felt rough and uncomfortable by comparison, and his face burned in an embarrassed flush. "It's on your shoulders and face." He said lamely as he looked up. "Probably on the top of your head, too." He paused for a moment, unsure. "I'm a fisherman." He added.

Rilfayne’s hand slipped up to where Obrosin’s eyes worked. The furrowing of brows was so brief it might as well have been a blink, despite the hot prickling of sensation. “Hmm. Might need to rub a salve on it.” He muttered. The air hung so heavy with heat, there were a few reasons for his shirt to stay agape.

That same hand then roamed along his scalp. As Rilfayne looked back up at Obrosin he said, “Oh, the water,” like he might have recognized it in his face. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it certainly fit. He glanced at the other man’s rough hands, as if to ensure those words agreed with the rest of him. “Mm. Must be hard. How many Turns were you on your… boat - or were you on a vessel with some ranks?”

"No ranks in nothing." Obrosin said. That someone could have 'ranks' in just about anything was new to him. His Ma was able to weave clothes and cook without any nods to a craft. He followed Rilfayne's eyes down to his hands and quickly looked back up, uncertain. "Just on my Da's boat. Probably…six turns, now? Since I was big enough to help haul the nets. What were you doin out on the water today? The ships aren't comin' in on a restday."

Offhandedly, both to the lack of rank and being on his father's boat, Rilfayne remarked, “That's too bad.” His eyes trailed down again, less in assessment this time, momentarily caught by curiosity at the hands hewn by the hard work - even though most things were all hard and all work. This guy didn't look that much older than him. No need to ask what brought him to Dolphin Cove. A dark brow quirked at the question, “My brother,” his chin rested in his hand, “His Tioruth likes to chase fish as much as he does greens. We flew along the west coast. The waves were mercilessly rough in some spots, what with all the crags and rocks, but it's great.” Rilfayne said. “Better when your ship has wings.”

"Oh. Did Tioruth…catch anything?" He tried to imagine a dragon (any dragon, really) trying to fish. Did they paddle around like waterfowl or dive straight down like wherries? Obrosin tried not to shudder at the idea of being atop a dragon as it dove straight down after a fish. E'tariax had laughed and said his Aphirith was 'smooth sailing', and that experience was enough to last him until he had to try it with his own potential future dragon. "And…did you bring a life buoy or anything? What if you fell into rough water? One wrong move and you'd be up against the rocks."

“Not that I’ve seen. He is huge.” Rilfayne snorted, “Maybe if he brought a net,” He paused, unsure whether the influx of questions triggered annoyance, or that it took the other man’s words for him to recognize things he hadn’t at the time.

From Tioruth’s neck those wings seemed to stretch as wide and as far as the sea. The thought of them failing never entered his mind - at least not when they’d been flying between the desperate crashing of waves and the raw jagged cliff face and the worst parts had been harsh spray, the sting of salt across the eyes. A similarly cold weight sank in his gut here too, but the fleeting feeling of fear Obrosin described had really been nothing but mindless thrill.

“The roughness is the best part.” Which technically was true. Rilfayne’s dark eyes squinted slightly, the embarrassment making it hard to think in this heat. “And it’s either that or get eaten by Thread. So, if it’s not riding rough waves, what’d you like about being on a boat?”

"It's not about liking being on a boat." Obrosin said incredulously. Honestly, he hadn't ever thought about that before; sailing had been something he had to do, and he did it without much consideration about whether he liked it or not. "It's getting the job done and getting it done safely. You can't defend against Thread if you're dead against the rocks."

“You almost sound worried about me.” Despite the wry smile, it was difficult not to feel tense, as any sense of invincibility had soured into feeling reckless and stupid. Rilfayne arched a brow. “Mm sorry, maybe I should have asked _what_ is there to like about being a boat? Anything?”

"Not _worried_." Obrosin said with a little too much defensiveness. He barely knew this guy, aside from seeing him in some candidate classes. "It's not about _liking_ it, either. A job's a job. Whatever needs to get done."

“Right.” Rilfayne stared back a moment, more than a little incredulous. Any other time his eagerness to prove a point would have been embarrassing - and surprising, really, given how sudden the impulse was to win at something here, if nothing else.

He stood and glassed Obrosin one last time, making absolutely no effort to guide his shirt. He couldn’t blame him, he supposed. Whatever sort of life was led out on the ocean, or tucked so tightly into corners of the world the human body itself was a revelation, didn’t sound like much of it. Where, unlike here, even looking or being caught looking at certain ones was traitorous, too much. If only he didn’t look so smug saying, “And _you_ only sit in the dining hall for the _food_. Right?”

Obrosin felt his face heat up again. His eyes flicked down from Rilfayne's face to the lack of a neckline of his shirt, then went back down to his plate. He didn't like the tone in the other man's voice and didn't really register the why of it, just that he grabbed the tray with his half-finished meal and hastily beat a retreat before either of them could get anything stupid out.

Last updated on the July 1st 2024

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Hot and Bothering