Truce

Writers: Eimi, Yvonne
Date Posted: 31st July 2006

Characters: Firsa, K'far
Description: Firsa and K'far share a quiet picnic
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 12, day 2 of Turn 3

K'far sat on the bench, a container of klah beside him, just waiting.
His knees bounced up and down impatiently and he turned to look over his shoulder to see if she was coming. She had said after the evening meal. That was rather vague. Perhaps she ate her meal later than others. He had rushed through the line, grabbed klah and mugs and flopped down on the bench nearly a candlemark before. Obviously either she was not in quite the hurry to meet him, or she was not coming at all...

"I didn't think you'd be here." Firsa had come around the bend of the path while he was looking the other way. She had a small, cloth-wrapped bundle in one hand, and a carefully impassive expression on her face. "Waiting long?"

The brownrider almost jumped at the sound of her voice. He got to his feet and turned to face her with an almost relieved smile. "I was beginning to wonder if you had changed your mind."

"No." She held out the bundle. "You wanted a pastry."

"I did," he nodded, picking up the decanter. "And I have klah to go with it. Please, have a seat and I'll pour us a couple mugs."

She sat silently, leaving the pastry on the bench between them, as he poured. When he pressed a mug into her hands she murmured her thanks and raised it to her lips - then made a face. "You have been here long. It's stone cold."

"Well, dinner is a rather vague space in time. I thought it was better to err on the side of early rather than make _you_ wait."

Firsa didn't know how to reply to that, because no matter what she said she'd end up feeling like a heel. She pointed to the bundle on the bench between them instead. "Well, I brought you a pastry, anyway. I didn't know what you liked so I brought a redfruit one, and a berry one."

"Ladies first. I truly have no preference. I like them both."

She chose the redfruit pastry, and struggled to think of something to say. She had so many questions, but the beastcrafter couldn't force any of them past her lips. "How is the foal doing? The chestnut colt with the small dam," he asked, trying to stick to a safe topic to start out with. Runners seemed to always be safe between them.

Firsa grinned. "Well. He's growing like a weed, and gets into everything. I named him Lock."

"Lock? That's a nice name. I like it," K'far nodded approvingly. "Is there a story behind it? Or did you just like the name?"

She shook her head. "Not really. His dam's name is Key, though, so it sort of seemed to fit."

The brownrider found that rather amusing. "I like that, actually. Lock and Key, it does seem to fit perfectly."

"Makes it easy to keep track of genealogy, too."

"True," he nodded. "But what his children be? Door? Jam? Hole?"

She arched an eyebrow and picked at her pastry. It peeled apart into thin, sugary strips. "Hole?"

"I don't know too many parts to a lock." K'far chuckled as he thought of all the possibilities. "Yeah, 'I love riding Lock' sounds so much better than 'I love riding Hole'..."

Firsa rolled her eyes. Men. Honestly. "Pervert."

"Are you telling me the thought hadn't even flashed through your mind?" K'far asked, somewhat skeptically.

"Which, fucking a runner, or naming my animals something that would get small children's' mouths washed out by irate foster mothers?"

K'far's eyebrows rose in appreciation. She certainly wasn't squeamish or stood on propriety. It was refreshing that she would speak her mind to openly. "I don't know, which came to mind first?"

She shot him a black look. "Eat your pastry."

"You know, you're a really hard woman to read," K'far said as he picked up the berry pastry. "I'm trying to figure out what it takes to make you laugh."

"That's the wrong question; everyone knows that I am entirely humorless." She tore another strip off her hapless pastry. "You _should_ be asking, what does it take to make her happy."

"I'll ask that question later," he shrugged. "Right now, I would be much more interested in hearing you laugh. I don't think I ever have."

"I can't laugh on demand."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking how it is I can pull one out of you. Unless that's something I'm just going to have to discover for my self over time..." He wondered if she would even give him the chance to get to know that small quirks in her personality over time.

The Stablemaster shrugged. "What's with the fascination with my laugh?
I'm not asking how to make you cry."

"I appreciate that. I'd rather not cry. It spoils the whole mood."

"Indeed." She smiled slightly. "That brings me to the question, however... what sort of mood were you going for?" "Well, I was just hoping you'd actually decide to show up," K'far chuckled. "Now that you're here... I want to get to know you better. That can be accomplished in a variety of ways. I'm ready, and quite willing, to try a different approach, if that's what you're asking."

"Maybe I am." She was fairly certain that she knew what he was implying, and anyway, anything was better than feeling like a specimen under a microscope.

K'far took the hint and leaned in to kiss her softly. "Shall we move this conversation inside?"

The beastcrafter stood and scattered the remains of her pastry on the grass behind the bench. The insects and small animals would enjoy the snack. "I'll follow you," she said.

He poured the remaining klah out of his mug and began cleaning up the remains of their small picnic. "Your weyr, or mine?"

"Yours." It was an easy choice; there were secrets that she still wished to keep.

Last updated on the August 3rd 2006

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Truce