Flowers To Boot


Ciara.jpg L'ron.jpg

Date: 2010.08.27
Location: Weyrling/Candidate Barracks
Synopsis: Leron has wet boots with a flower in each and a spare foot for his mouth.
Rating: PG13
Logger: Leron

The humidity is almost stifling this morning, the overcast weather combined with the heat not helping matters. Ciara, used to such conditions, is just waking up, stretching and trying to find the energy to lift her head. Most early risers have risen and gone already, the girl finds when she just manages to look about with bleary eyes. "Ugh." She starts to sit up, readjusting her crumpled nightclothes for dignity.

Ciara isn’t the only one late to rising and chores. Backwoods holdbred he might be, but it appears that the communal living of a Weyr bears little to no fuss for Leron who in an attempt to stave off the currently humid conditions is wearing little more a pair of sleeping shorts and….socks (?), and sprawled face down on his cot with long arms dangling over the edges. If one didn’t know better, one might assume he’d been on some or other drinking binge, hit the edge of his cot with his knees and summarily passed out the night before.

Ciara manages to get to her feet, but it takes her a moment to find her balance before she can move round to her press. As she does, she catches sight of Leron sprawled on his bed in an…unusual position. Ci patters over there, eyeing the clothing combination. The socks in particular get a puzzled wrinkling of her brow. Um? And then, without many reservations, she prods him firmly in the middle of his back. "Hey."

"Purple…" Leron mutters in his sleep for the prod at his back, not moving much other than to flap a dangling hand as if batting at something. The clothes he'd been wearing before collapsing the night before are hanging off the foot of his cot, with his boots…nowhere to be seen. Or perhaps that's them over theeeere, with a flower in each?

Ciara prods a few more times in quick succession when the first poke fails to get the desired response. "Come onnn, I can't do this all morning," the girl moans, but she's smiling even as she says it, too amused to actually be annoyed. Shaking her head, she surveys the state of his little sleeping area. What on Pern?

"Yellow, blue, red," Leron utters at each successive prod and then laughter muffles into his pillow as he rolls over and peers up at Ciara, the mischief in his eyes suggesting he'd been awake at that first prod but simply not bothered to actually, you know, get up. Perhaps it's his rest day today? Amusement lingers further as states the obvious, "You're late."

Ciara is just opening her mouth to say something else when Leron starts laughing. The girl rolls her eyes, shifting back as he rolls over. "So're you! You look like you barely made it to your bed. Late night?" She's all sweetness, but the look in her eyes is as devilish as his. Her arms cross over the front of her long night shirt.

Arms lifting and pillowing under his head, Leron grins up at Ciara, "Not late," he denies but doesn't qualify that statement just yet. Brown eyes dance up and down the girl's long night shirt and then he's chuckling as he finally moves himself enough to throw long legs over the bed and into a somewhat slumped sitting position as he peers about his sleeping area. Grinning widely now, "At least I made it to my bed and didn't fall over onto hers," the prim and proper, uptight girl from Southern Hold, "Could have been a problem then." As to why he'd been so tired, shoulders starting to fill in with muscle shrug easily, "Went for a run. Oh, and I found some flowers!" suddenly ducking his head down and peering under his cot in search of something or other. "Can't remember where I put them though."

Ciara perches herself on the edge of the empty cot next to his, rumpling the neat bedsheets. Oh well. Her eyes are still on Leron, amusement clear on her face. "Ah, there's a her is there?" She teases, grinning. Then, slightly confused: "you went for a run with a lady?" As to the flowers, she nods to the boots. "Not in the best place, I think."

Straightening out of that lean forward, Leron’s shakes his head, “Nope, Scrappy’s a boy.” Huh? As to where the flowers might have gotten to he twists about when Ciara points them out and his face breaks into another grin as he pads over to them in socked feet and carefully carries the boots back and holds them out to the girl, “Saw them and thought of you, all bright and cheerful and such.” And then he draws one of the boots back and peers into it, “There was water in there,” a light frown forming, “not sure where it went though.” Dunce!

Now Ci's really puzzled. "Wait…who's Scrappy?" She laughs as he finds the boots, shaking her head once again. That is, until she looks faintly embarrassed when he presents them to her. "Oh…you uh, might want to keep the boots, though." She does take the flower out of the boot he's not looking into though, rolling it between two fingers and watching the head spin. "You put water…in your boots?" She peeks into the other boot and grimaces, before looking up at him with a smile. "Thank you. Er. I hope your boots are gonna be okay?" She's still pink-cheeked.

"He's my friend," Leron states nodding his head solemnly over his acquaintance with the scrawny Weyr mutt that's taken to following him around. If he notices the embarrassment he doesn't comment to it. Then again, maybe he does for with a light shrug he explains, "You took me fishing, and I wanted to say, thank you." Never mind that it was a good few sevens back. And then pointing to the yellow one (simple meadow flowers they are) still in his boot, "S'like your smile. Cheerful," he states again. Plucking that flower out and holding it toward Ciara, he nods again, "Yup, flowers need water or they'll die. Like a fish," this as he tips the last few dregs of water out of the boot. A sheepish grin starts to form over the condition of his boots and he looks a little stuck for what to do or say. Clearly the lad hadn't quite thought the whole thing through.

"I see…." She doesn't, and her still puzzled tone says it, but she'll leave it at that. She's got some being awkward to do. "Oh. I wanted to take you fishing, you didn't have to get me anything!" She takes the second flower, her blush now more obvious as her embarrassment only grows. A man is giving her flowers. She holds one in each hand, looking from one to the other, and finally back at Leron again. "You can't keep flowers in a boot…you wouldn't keep a fish in one!" Ah, a joke. Last refuge of the awkward! "Ummmm."

Leron’s mouth forms around a warm and slightly awkward smile, “I wanted to,” he states simply. And then he’s dragging his trousers off of the end of his cot where they’d landed up and pulling them on over his sleeping shorts. Yeeeah, so maybe he’s not quite that comfortable with all out nudity enough to be stripping off and exchanging sleeping shorts for normal underwear. At least not in front of Ciara, or maybe it’s out of consideration for the girl. Who knows? Laughter follows hers as he reaches forward for one the flowers she holds, if she gives it up, he’ll try tucking it behind one of her ears (here’s to hoping he doesn’t poke her eye out in the process). A soggy boot is taken up and peered into once again, a grin flashing over to her, “Maybe a really little fish?”

Ciara glances away when Leron starts to get dressed, at least sort of - it's only trousers going on, but…still. Holder respect for privacy and all that is strong in her. When he laughs she looks back, letting him take the flower he's reaching for. "I think your boots'd need to be more watertight for that," she says with a little grin, voice quieter, looking shy at the flower being tucked behind her ear. "We'll have to go fishing again…after the hatching and everything," she adds, voice still soft, managing to force herself not to look down at her bare feet but at Leron's face instead.

And that’s about as far as he gets with dressing, or else his brain just burped and he’s forgotten about a shirt. Which is more than likely. But then there’s the problem of his boots being soggy and let’s face it, clean and dry socked feet being put into wet boots…not so much of the fun. Leron sits there quiet for a moment as he contemplates this small hitch before an entirely wicked grin forms and he’s on his feet again and moving three cots down where…he swaps his boots out with Janshu’s. Pulling them on he wanders back Ciara’s way a finger held to his lips in a ‘Shhh, don’t tell anyone’ gesture. Upon his return, he plonks himself down next to her on the empty cot a far off expression on his face to talk of another fishing trip and he nods slowly, smiling to that and then somehow correlates that to the upcoming Hatching, “Are you scared?” Let’s hope her brain can do the sideways hop like his does.

Ciara's mouth drops open when Leron goes to take Janshu's boots. She does grin and nod at his gesture though, happy to keep the secret safe. She adjusts the bottom of her nightshirt, drawing her legs up to tuck them under her in a more comfortable position on the cot. The jump in the conversation brings a little blink but…it means the blush fades a bit as they move to different ground. "I dunno. I have no idea what a hatching's like, or what to expect out there." She shrugs. "What about you?"

Chances he’s just borrowing the boots for the day and plans on swapping them out for his again. One hopes in any event. Leron’s eyes drop briefly to her legs as she draws them up and then politely flicker away again to that distant point ahead before turning onto Ciara’s face with an odd little smile that’s gone as quickly as it appears. “Me neither,” he gives on not knowing what a hatching’s like,” and then bumping his shoulder lightly against hers, a grin forms, “You can hold my hand if you’re scared?” that as he holds a hand up as if in demonstration. Because he absolutely isn’t a little scared of the whole idea of being around big toothy golds and sharp taloned hatchlings, noooo. Mmmhmm.

Ciara misses Leron's glance at her legs, which is probably for the best or she'd be as red as a…well, redfruit. She puts her head a little on one side at his smile, but shakes her head just slightly and says nothing of it. "Glad I'm not the only one," she says quietly about the unknown experience of a hatching. She rocks at the bump, and starts to grin back. "Sure. Just don't drag me in front of any hatchlings, yeah?" She holds up her own hand to look at it, comparing the size of hers and Leron's thoughtfully.

Once again Leron goes quiet, slipping into a similar study of their hands as Ciara does until he moves his to lay it palm flat against hers if she doesn't jerk away and then grinning at the size difference puts to her somewhat stoutly, "I'll protect you." Ummm yeah, as long as he doesn't trip over his feet and face plant in the sand in front of her. Good luck with that. Suddenly as if out of nowhere, he glances up from said sizing up of hands, "What color you think'll choose you?"

Ciara lets him put their hands together, staring at the now-very-obvious differences. "Oh…." She doesn't seem to know what to say to the promise of protection. The return of her red cheeks says quite a lot, though, and she ducks her head, a girlish smile that's quite unlike her aimed coyly at Leron. She stops the girly look when he suddenly asks a question. "You make it sound like I'm definitely gonna Impress," she says, half accusing. "You?" Their hands are still pressed together but…she isn't drawing hers back.

There comes a twinkle to brown eyes for the blush and coy smile, a wider one sent to Ciara in return and his fingers fold at the knuckles to lace lightly between hers. Just practicing for the sands, see? And then he states in a tone of small wonder, "Your hand's real small." Like he not noticed before when they were fishing. Leron's shoulders lift and fall in a light shrug, "Why not? You're a good person, you're funny and kind. Why wouldn't a dragon want you?" Seems simple enough to him. At the return question his smile broadens into a grin, "Blue!" no hesitation there, "They're fun." There he goes with the fun thing again and that over confidence that could quite likely see the young man crushed to some degree should he not in fact, impress.

Ciara swallows when Leron laces their fingers, staring at their hands. "No, yours is big," she comes back with, though the rejoinder is soft. Then she shakes her head at his analysis of her. "I think there's more to it than that. Like…they're looking for something people can never describe, not even riders." She shrugs, not looking too bothered about the whole thing. She does laugh at his enthusiasm about blues though. "Not bronze then? Though I reckon that'd be boring as anything, having to give a good impression all the time. Or being Weyrleader." She grimaces, just a little. She still looks somewhat entranced by the hand thing.

“Big?” Leron queries and lifts his other hand. Nope that one’s the same size too. “Maybe…you just didn’t eat enough when you were younger?” teasing a little and then chuckling as he adds, “But little’s good. I like little.” He announces with a firm nod of head. His nose wrinkles slightly as he gives Ciara’s words some thought over what it is dragons might look for in a person and then gives over to a belly laugh that has him flopping onto his back, their hands still entwined. Once he’s got his breath back, high humor still at play across his open features, “Me, Weyrleader?” more laughter, “You’re as crazy as I am.” Yup, he’s quite happy to poke fun at himself.

"Pfft," Ciara dismisses that with a grin. Which quickly wavers into several different expressions of surprise and embarrassment when he adds the next. Before she can say anything Leron's flopping onto the bed, and Ci is dragged by the hand with a small squeak of surprise. Her legs are half off the bed, and it's lucky her shirt is still on properly, really. What would the other candidates think? Even if she is lying beside Leron, not on him or anything. "I didn't say you had to be Weyrleader!" She protests, a little breathlessly, using the other hand to try and wriggle onto the cot in a better position and simultaneously pull her shirt straight.

Leron turns his head towards Ciara’s when she lands next to him and grins widely, “I could be, Weyrleader,” he suddenly decides and tries on a stern look which just ends up being ludicrous on his person. And then as she shifts to try and pull her shirt straight, so does he, except to poke a finger lightly at her ribs as if to tickle the poor girl as he states, “You get gold and I’ll get bronze,” like they could have a choice in the matter, “And we’ll rule the Weyr together. Fun and games everyday!” Ooooh boy! Trouble like Pern has probably never seen it before.

Ciara isn't falling for that stern look. "You have to Impress a bronze first!" She reminds him. She wriggles at the poking, not giggling but squeaking a little in protest. "Hey!" Her shirt is adjusted to her satisfaction at least, as best as it ever will be as she gets herself so that she's lying on her side, legs more on the cot now. "I don't think Weyrs work like that," she laughs, before adding: "what about green and blue? I think that'd be more fun than being in charge."

His only return to Ciara’s notation of his then needing to impress bronze, is to stick his tongue out at her. Leron looks anything but apologetic for the poke to her ribs and in fact simply lies there flat on his back, head turned her way and grins as she rolls over toward him. His free hand to his stomach he stares up at the ceiling and another nose wrinkle of fake disappointment forms, “Weyrs don’t work like that? They should you know. Everyone would just be so much happier if they did.” And then his gaze comes down and settles onto the girl, “Deal. You on green and me on blue. We’ll have a ball.” This conversation between the two currently way late for chores or wherever they’re supposed to be and lying talking on an empty bed, fingers of a hand each, laced together, Leron wearing trousers and someone else’s boots and Ciara still in her nightshirt. Those not knowing either of the two very well, might…get the wrong impression.

Ciara responds by sticking out her own tongue, snorting in amusement. "You reckon? You'll have to suggest it to the Weyrleaders. or the Weyr council." She nods firm agreement at the compromise on Impressions. "What d'you reckon your dragon'd be like?" Now she's not saying anything about 'if' Leron Impresses. It sounds like more of a 'when' kind of question.

The Weyr council? That draws Leron up short as he blinks over at Ciara a little wide eyed and then shifting his shoulders against the mattress curls his free arm up under his head and gives with a grin and a wink, “Bunch of stuffed shirts,” said in conspiratorial tone. That his opinion of the Weyr council. Thank Faranth not everyone in life thinks the way he does. “My dragon? Dunno. Maybe a funny dude that tells jokes all the time? Or is really good at making shapes out of rocks,” never mind Thread fighting skills or the likes thereof, “He’ll be real fast too!” Okaaay. And then turning his head back the girl’s way, “What do you reckon your green’ll be like? Little like you?” Seeing as how they’re making assumptions here.

Ciara grins at that opinion of the council, but doesn't offer her own. She's more interested in the talk of dragon personalities. "I think that'd fit you well. And he'd be nice, too?" She says, a little coyly, as if hinting that's, just maybe, what she thinks of Leron. As for her green: "yeah…it'd be weird if she was really different. I think it'd be nice to have a small, fast dragon, maybe. I think doing tricks in the air might be fun. And I'd want her to have a sense of humour."

Lifting their joined hands to use his thumb to rub at his temple (perhaps forgetting their hands are thusly joined?) Leron turns a grin that carries a pleased edge to it in response to Ciara’s words, “Yup, he better be or I’ll have to kick his butt. No rudeness or meanness allowed,” this stated very firmly. One of his legs dangling off the side of the cot swinging back and off the former stablehand listens as she tells of what her green will be like and chuckling turns over onto his side, facing the girl and notes before his brain has fully engaged, “My blue’ll be faster and catch her just like that,” thumb and finger snap together and then…he’s going a lovely shade of red when the implications of that fall into place. Clearing his throat quickly and turning back onto his back again, gaze firmly fixed to the ceiling he mumbles quietly, “Sorry.”

Ciara lets her hand be lifted, so used to the contact now it's…almost natural. She doesn't even seem to look embarrassed about the closeness of her hand to his face. "Gotta keep dragons in line," she teases. She looks at his eyes when he faces her again, but when what he's said sinks in, she's suddenly wide-eyed, and then looking about, anywhere but him! Her face goes red all over again. "Um. Don't worry about it." She tries to get herself sat up, using their entwined hands to help. She manages to get herself sat up, legs tucked under her. She looks sideways at him, still flushed and unsure what to say now.

Well now that they’ve got a lovely duel blush going on, the room temperature’s probably gone up a few degrees from the heat of reddened cheeks. As such and still trying to get his foot out of his mouth, Leron’s fingers straighten and shift as he removes his hand from Ciara’s, for surely that’s the last kind of contact the girl wants after such an elephant has been shoved into the room, right? And he too sits up, not looking at her either but instead reaching for his tunic hanging over the edge of his cot opposite and pulling it over his head, a light frown in place. That done, he stares down at the tips of his ‘borrowed’ boots for a while and then glances back up to her, quite unsure himself of what to say. Because honestly, what is there to say to that without making things worse? “Guess we should get to chores,” is finally all he’s able to give a quick smile coming and going as the color finally starts to fade from his cheeks.

As Leron takes his hand away, Ci's fingers twitch as if perhaps to maintain the contact a little longer but…they're both all flustered now. She smoothes her nightshirt over her knees as the silence extends. She almost jumps when he suddenly speaks, turning her head to look at him. "Yeah, probably a good idea. And…you'll still hold my hand at the hatching?" She asks, still blushing brightly as she says it.

Making his cot up now in rather haphazard form, anything to keep busy as that silence spreads out, Leron turns and puts a hesitant smile out to Ciara for her question, “You still want me too?” And it’s clearly evident what he’d like her answer to be.

Ciara slides off the cot and starts to patter back over to her own. When Leron asks her a question she stops, looking back. A smile slowly appears on her still-pink face. "Yeah…yeah, I would." And, now blushing intense red again, she hastens to her cot to grab clothes, shoes and a towel, wrapping the latter around her before she heads out, no doubt for the bathing pools.

Letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Leron’s smile notches up a watt or three into a pleased grin and his head dips in a quick nod, “Good, then it’s decided. I’ll hold your hand at the hatching when we greet our dragons.” Because he’s already decided this is how it will be. Daydreamer on aisle four!! And with that brown eyes regard Ciara as she dashes off to the pools that same grin still in place.

Closing Credit: John Denver - Sweet Surrender

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