An Impulsive Gesture of Friendship (2/2)

Writers: Estelle, Iluva
Date Posted: 20th October 2025

Characters: Z'kylo, R'fal
Description: After waking up together, Z'kylo and R'fal go for a drink
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 8, day 17 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: N'vanik

Z'kylo

"I think I had a white one." R'fal made a mental note; next time Marlath chased a green, he should pay attention to what clothes he had on, or perhaps develop a unique style. As far as underwear, he was just guessing. He got up, found a pair of trousers and held them up against him - too long. "These must be yours?"

Z'kylo now had his shirt and a pair of underwear on (whose? He didn't know, and after the sheer intensity of the flight and how well this was going it hardly mattered). Cautiously his let his eyes take in R'fal, hair still a mess, holding the waist of his supposed pants. "Oh, yes. Erm, thank you." Still, Z'kylo reached across the bed with a grateful nod. His awareness of himself had him hurriedly pulling them on, tightly tying the waist up with a small, steadying sigh. At least he -- _they_ weren't completely naked, anymore. He could breathe.

The whole room was like the aftermath of Threadfall, ruins strewn from one wall to the other. Boots had been torn off as if they'd been set ablaze, and were still missing in action, but as Z'kylo turned around, he did spy a white shirt lurking just under the bed.

"Oh, here you are." He handed it to the brownrider with a preemptive sigh of relief, now just trying not to stare at his chest.

"Thanks." R'fal had managed to locate his own pants, crumpled in a heap against the opposite wall, and with them came a flash of memory. Tearing them off and flinging them aside, wild and desperate for the greenrider's bare skin against his... He pulled the shirt over his head, grateful for the moment to hide his confusion, and raked his fingers through his dark curls. There was one boot in the far corner of the room, missing its laces, and he picked it up, wondering what had become of its pair. Kicked off on the way here?

They wouldn't pass muster at a Wing inspection, but should be good enough for the dining cavern, he hoped - considering what little the weyrbred riders sometimes wore. He glanced at the bed, sheets rucked and rumpled, and suppressed the urge to straighten it out. "So...klah?"

Z'kylo hesitated, first following R'fal's gaze to the mess that was the bed, and then darting away -- anywhere else. "Yeah, absolutely. I'd just hoped to have my boots..."

But a final sweep of the room turned up nothing, leaving a long, awkward pause. Reality started sinking into place, heavy and strange -- it felt odd that beneath his stretched and misshapen shirt, Z'kylo wore the scent of a man he hardly knew. As pleasant as their exchange was, everything was still dancing a little close to the surface for his liking. The nearness to the flight felt unbelievably... scandalous, like something Weyrfolk might do all the time. But he did not know what he was doing.

At the door, Z'kylo paused, self-conscious. He pushed pale hair from his forehead then reluctantly admitted to R'fal, "It's probably just the flight, but I think I'm still a bit too hot from everything for klah right now. Can I assume the offer still stands if it's something cold?"

He stepped neatly into the corridor -- only to immediately stumble over a boot. His boot, this time. "Crackdust." Z'kylo muttered in a huff, scooping the lone thing up, the laces broken and dangling between his fingers. "This is ridiculous. If we don't find the other ones, are you alright with no shoes in the dining hall?"

"Sure." R'fal, following him out, had to smile as he held up his own boot, caught between two fingers in the mirror of the greenrider's gesture. "Looks like we have a pair between us at least, unless it's two left feet. Maybe someone picked them up." With some embarrassment, he imagined the Headwoman's efficient staff, gathering up discarded clothes and footwear and placing them discreetly back outside the owner's weyr.

As they entered the dining hall, he half expected everyone to turn and stare at them, but of course green flights were nothing out of the ordinary to weyrfolk and the kitchen worker who fetched their drinks hardly gave their bare feet a second glance. The place was half-empty in any case, since it was too early yet for dinner. It felt odd and luxuriously guilty to be there, when he'd usually have been at his duties, but of course they'd be excused today.

"So, um..." Now they were both dressed and sitting at a table, drinking together like a perfectly ordinary pair of fellow dragonriders, he found himself unsure what to say. Recalling Z'kylo's transfer, he seized on that topic gratefully. "How are you and Veth finding Dolphin Cove? I mean, apart from..." He flushed, hoping that hadn't sounded like fishing for compliments on the flight. "Is it much different to Dream's End?"

"Veth? She really likes it, though I'm positive she'd be happy anywhere as long as it's crawling with male dragons." Z'kylo smiled a rare, fond smile for her here.

"Dreams End's... colder than here, obviously, so the dress code isn't quite as lax." Z'kylo made an incredulous face, something between pained and amused as he paused, trying to remember the place he usually tried to forget. "I don't think I've ever been anywhere quite as hot or as humid as here. I didn't know it could even get this hot. It's a lot like here, though the Weyrleaders..." would never dance the way N'vanik and his greenrider friend had at the Hatching Feast, for one. The thought was mortifying all on its own and Z'kylo gulped his iced tea like he might be able to forget it entirely. "The leaders seem more... hide-bound than here, I guess. And there aren't any blue Weyrlingmasters or brown Wingleaders at Dreams End. Not while I was there. I think there might have been a green 'third."

"It's probably a fine Weyr. But I... I couldn't handle Veth's flights there at all; I just panicked the whole time." Z'kylo admitted, more easily than he thought it would be. "Didn't choose Dolphin Cove with much thought, really. I just needed to get out of there. It is better here, though, if that's what you're asking." He gestured between them and was hit with a strange mixture of embarassment and gratitude. "Us having a drink would never happen."

"I'm glad we're both here, then." R'fal relaxed, with a sudden, natural ease in his manner as he sipped his klah. "The first time Marlath won a green, it didn't go so well for me, either." _That_ was an understatement. "But afterwards I got to know her rider and now we're really good friends. It's a strange way to meet people but somehow, here, it works. Maybe it's hard to be any more embarrassed than you already are, at least if you haven't grown up with it..." He smiled. "It's good that you like it better here, anyway. And that I haven't made you want to leave again!"

"No, definitely not," Z'kylo returned the smile. "Now, when Veth comes out of her coma and won't leave Marlath alone for the next few days and nights, you might be singing a different tune," he teased.

R'fal's posture lost its tension and Z'kylo found himself looking him over, wondering if he'd had even some small part in that shift. He hoped so.

At least it wasn't the customary post-flight panic attack and breakdown in his weyr again.

Z'kylo felt his face warming quickly at the thought -- not just with the memory of how utterly disastrous it had been at Dreams End, but the notion that it could quite possibly go _well_ for him (for either of them? _Both_?) on a regular basis in the future. That he might be able to _expect_ it sometimes. He doubted he would feel so warmly with every person he woke up next to, though.

"So," he said, glad R'fal was deaf to his absolutely surreal thoughts, "I know that you're Searched like me, and how long you've been in the Wings, and that you're a good guy making this a lot easier for me. But -- do you like chess?"

The brownrider's brow lifted in surprised recognition. "Oh, I haven't played that since I was little! My grandda taught me. Sometimes he used to play this old farmer who held the land alongside ours, and I'd watch them, and then they'd talk about the game afterwards. But then he died, and I was fostered, and my da was more into cards, really. I probably wouldn't be very good. Do you like it?"

Z'kylo's couldn't hide his own enthusiasm after all that, feeling more at ease. "Oh, yeah. It's _great_," he nodded emphatically. "I'm weaver-trained so who knows, that could be part of it. But what I like is that it's a game of time. Well, patience, might be better. You get to take your time because you're constantly weighing the potential outcomes for every move you and your opponent make. You have to pay attention. That's part of the game. If you rush through you'll get nailed. It... mm, it doesn't actually sound that fun when I'm saying it outloud like this, but it is," he assured R'fal with a chuckle, "if you like games of strategy."

Taking a sip of his drink, he gave a little smile-shrug. "This is also quite biased of me, but it's one of the few things you can do one on one and people don't constantly try to interrupt, even at a Weyr. Veth thinks it's very dull." His eyebrows twitched up in humor. "But you could learn it fine, R'fal. I mean, you already did once. Would, erm- would you like me to show you sometime?"

"I'd like that." R'fal's eyes lit up, perhaps at Z'kylo's confidence that he could learn the game, or the simple gesture of friendship. "That explains a lot about why I didn't get very far when I was young. My Ma says I wasn't exactly the most patient of boys, but I hope I've improved since." When he thought about it, all the difficulties he'd got into since coming to the Weyr had begun with an impulsive and reckless decision, without thought for the consequences. Perhaps if he'd kept practicing he wouldn't have got into half so much trouble. "If you want, we could try it now? I could see how much I remember."

"You've become a dragonrider since then. I do think you're going to do alright with chess," The greenrider said, with sincerity. "It's all patterns up there, and it's the same on the board." Privately, Z'kylo sometimes wished he hadn't saved his one impulsive decision for his Search -- he wondered had he branched out in smaller ways before his Impression if he might have had more exposure to life, and some actual danger before they were suddenly in the path of Thread. Maybe it wouldn't feel quite so unnatural to be spontaneous now.

The board got set up fairly quickly, with Z'kylo so utterly absorbed in the task that he almost forgot the circumstances of their meeting earlier that day until he looked up, smiling shyly. A freckled hand gestured smoothly over the two arranged suits in offer. "Okay, R'fal. Most important right now: your choice."

"White's first, right? Grandda always used to hide a piece in each hand and choose, or sometimes toss a mark." R'fal had been glancing over the pieces, reminding himself of how each one moved, and he looked up at Z'kylo, sharing his smile, then took a seat by the black pieces. "But maybe you'd better go first this time, and I'll follow."

"So, you _do_ remember." Z'kylo thought so. Pleased, he methodically cracked the knuckles on one hand. "Okay, brownrider, try to keep up."

Last updated on the October 28th 2025

Welcome to Triad Weyrs!

An Impulsive Gesture of Friendship (2/2)