Stress Test

Participants:

D'lan.jpg Mahlie.jpg

Date: 2011.06.14
Location: EW - Living Caverns & D'lan's Weyr
Synopsis: D’lan, out and about earlier than usual, gets re-acquainted with a young woman he’d met a few turns earlier.
Rating: PG18 - Adult innuendo and situations.
Logger: D'lan

Mahlie
Mahlie stands about five foot seven, strong body well-trained by years of hard work. Her frame is thick with generous curves in all the right places. She gives off the appearance of softness while still carrying herself with a well-honed strength. Long blonde tresses can often be spattered with colorful foodstuffs from the kitchen, used as an art to decorate more than mar her beauty. Blue eyes are the drawing feature in Mahlie's bright, normally-cheery face.

Mahlie wears functional clothing: a tan tunic spattered with the day's meal or drink, paired with a useful pair of trousers in darker brown. She wears thick boots on her feet, both for utility and personal preference.

It's pretty early in the morning. The sun is rising slowly over the edge of the caldera, and many riders and other assorted weyrfolk are still asleep. Not so the kitchen staff. They are hustling about the kitchen, preparing food, setting it out in the cavern carefully, finding that one place where the geothermal energy bubbles up just enough to keep the warm things warm without spoiling the cool things. Mahlie is running between the two places, her arms laden with trays, pitchers, rags and buckets, or whatever it takes to make the prep run smoothly. "No!" She chides another worker. "Not beside the cream. You do that and the cream'll curdle within two candlemarks. It needs to be able to stay fresh the whole morning." She situates things to her liking, and steps back, hands on her hips, rag in one hand. "Perfect."

Though most would assume that D’lan due in part to his notoriously lazy brown, is not an early riser, they would at least this morning, be wrong. For there he comes sauntering into the living caverns as if he were Weyrleader himself. The hustle and bustle of the morning’s preparations are noted with passing interest as he moves in closer to try snagging himself something sweet to snack on. That’s about when Mahlie’s last word reaches his ears. Moving in right up close behind the blonde the grin is easily audible in his lowered tone, “Why thank you.” Er what?

Mahlie startles, but is not easily flustered. She keeps her hands on her hips, and rotates slowly on the spot. "Brownrider, I'll thank you not to invade my space so summarily. Not while I'm on duty. Now, off-duty's another matter." She flicks the towel at his chest, and tilts her head toward the table. "What'll you have this morning? Sweetrolls? Klah?" Riders have odd hours, she's found, and it helps to have everything ready when they do start to filter in. His comment is either not heard or completely ignored.

Rather than look chastised by the mild scolding coming from the blonde, D’lan lifts a brow in amusement and a sly light enters blue eyes. “Off duty, hmm?” cue the assessing and appreciative flow of eyes over ample curves and assets. Laughter rather than the words that jump to mind greets Mahlie’s flick of towel and offer of sustenance. There’s the just the faintest hesitation before the brownrider states, “Both,” and moves off to a nearby table, his expression more contemplative than openly roguish.

"Alright." Mahlie moves to fill a plate with sweetrolls and a mug with klah, scurrying with practiced efficiency. "What wakes you up this early, rider?" She winks saucily at the man as she deftly carries the plate and mug to him, nodding with her head toward the table, silently asking if he'd rather sit down or carry the food and drink himself.

Watching as Mahlie bustles about a devilish grin appears, “To wake up, one first has to be asleep, do they not?” The wink sent by her draws a low chuckle from D’lan as he reaches for the plate and mug prepared seemingly happy to carry them himself. “So tell me fair maiden,” teasing, “when does ‘off duty’ occur?” Reaching the table food and drink are set down and then the brownrider sprawls into a chair, “Or is that just a line you feed us poor brownriders to keep us happy and manageable while you work?”

Mahlie chuckles quietly, and lets go of the fare, stepping back. She takes a moment to scan the room, make sure there's nothing else requiring her attention, and then moves to sit down beside the man. "Well, it really depends. Once we get everything laid out properly…" She gestures grandly toward the food laid out on the table, "we're free to go for a couple hours. We try to rotate who comes in for breakfast every few sevens so that … nighttime activities can be planned." It's probably not the only reason, but two can play at this game, and she's pretty good at it. "Me, I'm off shortly, since I helped prepare. Any particular reason you're asking?" Mahlie leans forward, resting her head on her hands, elbows on the table. It gives a pretty good view, if he's looking.

Oh D’lan’s looking alright and doing so without shame from behind his raised mug as a careful drink of the steaming brew is taken. All kinds of inviting comment once again spring to mind but what the brownrider lends his voice to a question instead. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Because I know I would have remembered.” Mmhm. And once again Mahlie is set with that contemplative look though it might come across as more that of a feline stalking prey given the enticing smile that’s attached.

Mahlie catches him looking, but doesn't say anything about it. A slight flush does creep across her cheeks for just a moment, though, and she gives a slight shrug. "I haven't been here long. I lived in Lemos before. Da's a woodcrafter." That says it all; Lemos and its trees are pretty famous. "I'd been working up in the hold proper when I got in trouble for being friends with a loudmouth bastard." She chuckles again, belying her harsh words. "Oh, H'rralt's alright, I guess." She admits, but doesn't elucidate. She stands up for a moment, looking toward the food to check again. It's habit. "I think I'll grab myself a plate as well." She sashays toward the food table and grabs herself a few things to eat and a mug of klah for herself. It isn't too many minutes until she's returned and reseated, this time with her own plate of food. She winks at D'lan again, and takes a sip of the klah.

Aaah, and there’s his reward in the form of a blush. That of course serves to have D’lan leaning back in his seating with a satisfied smirk creasing a line down the one side of his mouth. As Mahlie proceeds to touch on her roots a glowbasket unlids in the brownrider’s memory and his grin turns wider as a connection is made. But rather than share the revelation he sets the blue-eyed blonde with an enigmatic smile and comments nonchalantly, “They make some good furniture up Lemos way.” Taking a bite of one of the sweetrolls, laughter traps in his throat and rumbles down into his chest for talk of trouble and a loudmouthed bastard. Washing the mouthful down with klah, blue eyes track Mahlie’s swaying rear as she goes for her own plate of food. Quiet a moment or two after catching that wink D’lan pulls his legs in under him and makes as if to stand as he gathers his plate and mug up, “Take aways?” The question coming with purred invitation attached as he sends a quick glance about to ascertain the likelihood of her being able to slip away for a bit.

Mahlie is just settling in to eat, but considers his offer for a long moment. "I think I could manage that…" She grins at the mention of her father's furniture. "Wait…" Light is starting to dawn, maybe. She drains her mug, and chews on her sweetroll for a couple minutes as she thinks. The smile, and the flash of blue eyes seem very familiar, as does his confidence in his 'skills.' "Oh, yeah. I can get away." She remembers. She stands up again, leaving the now-empty mug, and gestures toward the door. "Give me a moment to tell them I'm taking off." Someone else can sit here and watch the table and serve as necessary. It's not a fixed rotation, anyway. She hurries again, stepping into the kitchen to tell whoever's there her plans. As she steps back out, she's fussily attempting to straighten her tunic and brush the flour from her hair.

Another bite of sweetroll washed down by another healthy drink of klah and blue eyes dance with mirth as D’lan watches the kitchen worker piece things together. Yeah, he’s amused. Low laughter follows in Mahlie’s wake as she goes off to organize taking off with him. When she returns the brownrider is to be found leaned up against the archway leading out to the bowl, what remains of his food and drink left on the table. The smile that emerges as she does is warm and followed with an equally warm, “Long time, no see, Mahlie.” A player he may be but he never forgets a name, or, a pretty blonde for that matter.

"D'lan," Mahlie breathes, catching up to him, and leaning in to him. "Yeah. It really has been a long time." Not so long that she's forgotten her first, but long enough that he's not her only anymore. "It's good to see you." She grins widely and sets her plate down, snatching the last of the sweetrolls on it to take with her. She wraps her arm around his waist. "How've you been, hmmm?"

“Too long,” D’lan agrees with a fond smile appearing as he pushes away from his lean, Mahlie put under closer inspection as any changes the past two turns might have wrought in her are taken in. “Looking good,” comes rumbling free. Real good if the tone used is anything to go by and then with her slipping her arm about his waist so the brownrider wraps her up in both of his in what might seem like a bear hug to any that might be looking on curiously. How has he been…There’s a short moment of silence before D’lan sets her with a quick smile to go with the slightly evasive reply given, “Living life and misbehaving.” Now, releasing her from that tight embrace, the brownrider with an arm still about her shoulders, steers Mahlie in the direction of the bowl, “And you? Looks like you’ve been having yourself some fun, hmm?” deduced by the brief outline she’d supplied earlier.

Mahlie flushes at the praise, ducking her head for just a moment before gazing back up into his blue eyes. His assessment of her words gets a wry snort, and she shakes her head a little. "You could say that. I had to get out of that house." She shudders slightly, remembering some of the arguments between her mother and herself. "So, I got set up working in the Hold kitchens." Which she mentioned. "I was doing pretty well there until H'rralt came along and started mouthing off." But that's the way the old blue rider is. She gives D'lan a bright grin. "So…" She wants to know what's on his mind, or rather if she's understanding what's on his mind. She doesn't want to ask, though. Probably her mother's training still showing up. "How's Wyncrath?" Stupid small talk. But it serves its purpose.

Blue eyes meet those of a like colour, D’lan’s gaze turning slightly searching as a rarely seen frown starts to form when a brief flash of guilt sets at thought of the troubles Mahlie had experienced at home perhaps being of his doing. “I’m sorry to hear that,” genuinely so. And just as quickly it’s gone and amusement is back in place followed with a measure of approval, “You put a bluerider in his place for mouthing off?” Interpreting her words to mean as much as they leave the Weyr proper and step into the soft morning sunlight a sidelong look sent Mahlie that’s laden with all kinds of wicked intent. “So,” he echoes in seductive tone, “Want to see how well Lemos crafted furniture is holding up?” Just that open but then he doesn’t see any point in beating around the bush, not with Mahlie. “You know Wyn, just as cheery and full of the joys of spring as he always is,” fondly teasing sarcasm for his surly brown draws a snort from the lump of ‘rock’ sprawled in the sun nearby.

"No, no. I got ostracized for being H'rralt's friend. Or, I guess, for H'rralt being a friend of the family. I kind of agreed with him… long story." And Mahlie is not talking about that. She allows her other arm to curl around the front of his frame as they walk, moving on his abdomen slowly. "Oh, yes. I'm sure it'd be extremely helpful to stress test the furniture. Do you have some specific test in mind?" She flirts back. "If not, I'm sure I can think of a few…" She laughs outright at his sarcasm, her full, throaty laugh echoing around for a few seconds.

"There's nothing quite like a rainy southern evening with a bottle of wine shared and a good story told," D'lan puts out in invitation for Mahlie to take him up on at a later point should she so desire. His hand tightens minutely about her shoulder in reaction to her winding herself closer about him as they draw up to the lounging Wyncrath. Her throaty laughter and enticing words serve to further feed the heat that fits a smouldering gaze onto the blonde and the brownrider pauses at the dragon's side. His arm drops away from her shoulders, hands setting boldly to her hips as a thumb brushes idly up and down and a brow goes up, "One or two," he states with amusement on stress tests, "but I'm rather more inclined to see what sort of…tests young Mahlie might conduct, hmm?" And while he teases, he does so with approving recognition attached for the fact that she's no longer the blushing innocent he'd come across back up in Lemos.

Mahlie seems to think about his offer of a willing ear. "Maybe." She's not sure exactly who to trust with all of this, yet, and so far, he's been a good — company for an evening or two — but not someone she'd trust with her dangerous secrets. Not yet. Maybe as they go along. "Oh, I don't wonder if they're somewhat similar. Good frames should be tested for resiliency and lack of movement in the frame while there's … movement elsewhere." She grins and shivers happily into his touch. "We could compare notes? Or perhaps just see which tests seem most appropriate at the time. I'm pretty open to flexibility." She winks again, and leans into him a little more.

The offer's been put out there and D'lan not one to push such things, not when it comes to things of a more personal nature (forgive the way he makes distinctions), leaves it as it stands - open. Giving Wyncrath a tap with the side of his boot to get the lazy brute to be more accommodating so as to make mounting easier, he turns first a grin onto Mahlie and then affects a look of deep thought at the suggestions she makes. "And noises," he adds on to her list of tests to be carried out, "A frame should definitely not make any noises while in use." Those using said frame however, different story and though it's left unsaid it likely transmits in the devilish grin attached. "Ah," dipping his head down as the blonde leans in closer to him, the brownrider breathes against her ear, "Now, flexibility…that I can work with." And unless she pulls away he'll put a brush of lips against the soft skin of her neck before drawing back and sending a wink of his own down to her, "Come on then, less talk, more action." He didn't!? Well he did, but there's laughter that follows that bold comment as he'll then set about helping Mahlie up onto Wyncrath.

Mahlie's full-throated laughter returns at his rejoinders. Including the blunt 'less talk, more action.' She's come a long way, and it shows. "What about the occupants? Can they make noise, or do you prefer the silence?" She's pretty sure she knows what the answer is, but she offers the question out there to play with him a little more. She gives a pleased groan at his breath in her ear, and leans forward a little more, hoping to reach his own with her sultry whisper. "Oh, good." She chuckles again, more softly this time, and then lets him help her aboard the brown, snuggling back into him once he's mounted behind her.

Well now, the girl is just full of surprises. Good ones if D’lan’s grin is anything to go by. “The occupants? Hmmm, let me see…” and he indeed appears to be giving that one thought too though is distracted for a moment by the wash of warm breath against his ear, eyes sliding shut for a moment and a sound of approval rumbling out. Where was he? Oh right. Occupants, sounds, allowed or disallowed. “Silence,” the brownrider takes up once Mahlie is settled in before him “is for the dead.” Spoken as he draws her back in close against his chest for the short flight up to his weyr for safety reasons, see? Mmhm. A trip where little gets said but where the brownrider’s lips continue to do the talking by placing kisses down the back of the kitchenworker’s neck and anywhere else where he can find skin exposed to do so. Mile high club, anyone?

Mahlie stretches lazily, her whole body screaming satisfaction. "Mmm." She smiles coyly at D'lan, keeping her body close enough to his to maintain skin contact. It just still feels good. "That was better than I remember," she sighs happily. "And I think, if I can clear my head enough, that I didn't hear a single squeak. Of course, it may take more testing at a later time." She shrugs the shoulder away from her bedmate. "If you need a willing tester." She chuckles low, amused with herself and the world.

From D’lan comes a less intelligible rumble that’s trapped somewhere between a sound of amusement and deep satisfaction. And no, he’s not opening his eyes just yet for that would require effort, effort that he’s beyond making just now. Instead he wraps an arm about Mahlie and draws her in closer against him, turning his head into the mass of blonde hair and inhaling her scent. Amusement is now more evident than before in the low chuckle that spills, “Miss Mahlie’s been a bad girl, since I last saw her.” He states approvingly. Or very good depending which way you look at it. Now he cracks an eyelid and casts a look over the young blonde snuggled up against him, “Nope, no squeaks. Then again, you could strike a man deaf, dumb and blind without even trying too hard.” Charmer. “More testing?” the other eye comes open now and a lazy grin appears, “There’s an armchair over there that might need replacing soon. Perhaps we could see how much life it still has in it yet, hmm? Any plans for…lunch?” Now that ‘breakfast’ has been taken care of that is.

"A very bad girl, I'm sure." Mahlie agrees, giving an involuntary groan at his touch. "It doesn't sound like it bothers you much, hmmm?" Maybe the reverse is true. She shifts a little in his arms, getting more comfortable. She lifts a hand to tap a finger to his nose gently. "Flatterer." When he offers to keep her there for a while, she thinks quietly for a moment, and then responds. "If that's what needs tested, sure." She gives another low chuckle, and eyes the chair. "Mmm. I didn't give them a return time, and I worked all my last rest day, so I'm sure I'll be okay. The baker's got ways of finding me if she needs me." Namely a borrowed firelizard that can peck the ever livin' daylights out of the person she needs. "So, no, no plans for lunch. Just as long as I'm there for the evening rush, or let her know I won't be, I'm good."

Reaction to that soft groan is instinctive with D'lan's hand sliding across smooth skin in idle patterns. Lifting his head slightly Mahlie's face is brought into better view, "Why should it?" Bother him that she's clearly had other liaisons since he'd first met her. "There's nothing wrong with enjoying someone's company, sweetheart. Love is overrated," jaded much? "This way," his hand slips down lower in seductive tease, "everyone wins." Or at the very least, learns how to run fast when someone's spouse comes after you. An unapologetic grin slips into place when she calls him out on his flattery and then turning over onto his side and tracing the outline of her mouth with a thumb his smile takes on a rueful line. "I've got morning drills," darn that stuff called Thread, "but I can meet you back up here for lunch?" The look the brownrider slips over the blonde's curvaceous form suggesting just what it is he thinks the menu should compromise of. And then almost out of the blue and in total contrast to the blissful haze that pervades the weyr, "So how did you wind up here?" At the Weyr, not in his bed, though she could take that either way.

Mahlie is blissed out enough to consider telling him the whole sordid mess, but something holds her back from completely spilling her guts. "Completely overrated." She agrees with his sentiment. Not so much jaded for her as young, wild and carefree. "Mmm. I know I feel like I won." She waggles her eyebrows a couple of times, and then nods. "I can do that. I can help out a bit cleaning up there. Might have you — " She's a little embarrassed to ask this now, but she knows she's got to. "And maybe later, you and Wyncrath can take me somewhere…" She's attempting subtlety, but tries to get her point across. She really doesn't need a brat right now. "But lunch together sounds … delicious." Her voice is nearly a purr. She shifts a little more in the bed, considering how best to answer him. "I needed to get away from Lemos fast, and it seemed like one of the few places needing help in the kitchens was here. I was raised …" She frowns, unsure of how to phrase this. "You've met Mitschell." Her father. "He's about as Traditional as they come." This part, she can tell, though she's not sure why she shares it now. "So, it's been kind of odd to be so close to Landing and all the fuss…" She's still fairly traditional herself, at least she thinks of herself being that way. "But I like it here. The people I've met so far have been — interesting, to say the least."

Easy laughter greets that waggle of brows coming from Mahlie. “I wonder, is it possible to have two winners?” D’lan asks rhetorically and then a warm smile curves about his mouth and a kiss is pressed against the young blonde’s temple, “I know a really nice little cove you just have to see.” The question answered as subtly as it was asked for a family man he most certainly is not. Not as far as he’s concerned anyway. The manner in which Mahlie shifts about in the bed draws a low rumbling sound of warning that if she keeps that up he might just consider missing drills especially given the enticing purr to her tone. “Lunch it is then.”

Watching her closely as she speaks of having to leave her home fast, blue eyes narrow slightly and while D’lan doesn’t push her on the matter he does ask, “Because of this H’rralt fellow?” Rolling over onto his back and taking her with him if he can, his gaze casts to the domed rock ceiling of his weyr and a soft snort is uttered before he offers out a rare piece of personal information, “I don’t think you get much more anally retentive than harper born and bred. Have you been to Landing yet?” mind switching tracks quicker than a runner on a race course. His enquiring mind and sense of adventure having long since put him into the bracket of being more progressive than traditionalist.

"Harper? I never would have guessed. And I don't know. Da is pretty strict. He has to be. There's seven of us running around." Mitschell has a gently firm hand, but it's Charillatee who wields the wooden spoon with impunity. Mahlie won't talk about Mum, though. "Indirectly because of him, yeah." She doesn't want to give him the wrong idea, but the truth is hers to keep for now. "I haven't been up to Landing yet. I should go soon. If for no other reason than to be able to tell my siblings I've been there." She grins, face in a teasing tone.

Having dealt with the tough stuff, she returns to the pleasant thoughts. "Two winners, eh? I'm sure there are some things in which everyone can win." She chuckles again, and sighs. "That would be lovely." This to his understanding and offer. She grins at him, and then moves to stand, preparing to get dressed for now. "Well, the sooner you get off to drills and get them taken care of, the sooner we can return for lunch." She leans back toward him, kissing him softly on the cheek. With a feline stretch, she finally moves from the bed, disentangling herself from him with a disappointed moue. It doesn't take her long to dress again, and she waits to be ferried back down to the bowl to busy herself until he returns.


Theme Music: Nelly Furtado ft Timbaland - Promiscuous


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