To Tame A Bronzerider - 2010.07.15


Indira.jpg E'ro.jpg

Date: 2010.07.15
Location: Eastern Weyr: Kitchen
Synopsis: Indira catches E'ro up to no good. And sets about 'punishing' him ;)
Rating: Warning: Adult Situations
Logger: Indira

A typical Weyr kitchen, this room contains a small section for immediate storage, large stoves, pans and containers of immense size, and continuous activity. The cooks and Bakers claim their domain, utilizing almost every bit of space in this smallish kitchen. Hooks for cutlery and pans stick out of the walls, and the gleaming polished countertops usually boast plates and platters full of various kinds of food.

Early morning sees little to few people actually up and about. Rukbat hasn't crested the horizon yet, and darkness envelops the Weyr. But that doesn't mean there's nobody doing any work! Eastern's overnight chef has been busy starting preparations for the morning meal. She's been rolling out dough and boiling water for the stew, preparing fresh vegetables and making sure there are ingredients available for other dishes. It would be tiring work, horribly boring, if it weren't for the presence of company. "Nah, I don't believe you, you're joking with me," E'ro turned towards the tall chef and cocked a brow. "Did she?" Peoni just bobbed her head enthusiastically. "Yea, she did, and I bet she didn't notice everyone's faces either. They were horrified!" Her audience shook his head pitiably and leaned forward onto the counter, "So what're you going to do now?" She replied, "I suppose I'll have to fix it myself. Don't have near enough time in the day though." E'ro shrugged, "I could help you out. Look, before you complain, you know I'm a good hand in the kitchen and secondly, no one's around to complain." She eyed him for a brace of seconds, then sighed as she gave in. They'd been knowing each other since Igen, when they both had stood for the same clutch and unfortunately, Peoni didn't Impress. "Fine. Wash your hands first and don't sneak a taste of any of the sweets!" E'ro beamed proudly and shooed her off, but when she had exited the area and left him all alone, his grin fell as he got down to business. He had three small pouches in his pocket, one of which he opened to sprinkle the contents into the stew pot. But that wasn't all! Another powder from one of the pouches, some kind of pink chalky mess, he mixed into the pie filling. Lastly, he open the last pouch which contained a miniature jar of.. numbweed! On which he paused as he gazed around the kitchen, actively thinking. What next?

No matter how early it may be, the Weyr is her responsibility as are the goings on, as Indira sees it. As such, it’s no surprise that the tall blonde Headwoman is already prowling about the caverns, preparing for the day ahead. In a passageway riddled with deep shadows due to glowbaskets being opened the bare minimum, Peoni passes the Headwoman by without even being aware of her presence. Dark eyes narrow and follow the overnight chef’s path for a moment or two before altering the path she’d initially been on. Heeled boots she may wear, but this woman has become rather adept over the turns at masking her footfalls. As such, her arrival and the lazy lean she affects against the doorway, might go unnoticed by E’ro as an intent gaze pins onto him, watching his actions in the same way a wild feline does prey it’s about to pounce on.

What the bronzerider is doing has no bearing in rightness. It looks shady, it is shady, and the end result will probably be shady. Just the same, it's hard to tell what he's doing aside from the numbweed - both the white and pink powders have dissolved and left no trace. To implicate him, one would probably need some sort of evidence, so why not have some external dialogue? "Laxative in the stew, sleeping powder in the pie. Half the Weyr will be shitting and the other half will be sleeping. Perfect. Now what did I want to do with the numbweed," he mumbles to himself, unaware of the presence of another. Sure, he's sneaky and troublesome, but he's not always that aware, just lucky. "Oh, right, the fish to cover up the smell." Then he gets to it, lifting the cover off the fish which has been slowly smoked over the hearth fire.

If Indira had a tail, it would probably be flicking side to side in agitated warning. Instead, dark blonde brows hike up as E’ro gives voice to his list of foul play and then drop over eyes that have narrowed to slits despite the contradiction that comes in the form of an amused twitch of lips. She waits until he’s got that cover off of the fish, imaginary tail swish-swishing before noting in a deadly quiet voice, “You sure you want to waste numbweed like that? Because in about two seconds, I’m going to stick my boot so far up your ass, you’re going to wish you’d smeared it all over your cheeks instead!”

The hand, the one over the fish, stills. Silence reigns as the internal war begins. That is not a voice he is accustomed to hearing, so it can't be J'cobi, Alara, or - ha! - Randi that caught him in the act. Whoever it is has to be of lesser authority, which means his chances of getting away with it are greater. "I assure you that whatever it is that you think I'm up to, you've got it wrong. I was just checking the food for the cook. She had an emergency and I was available to help," E'ro murmurs before slowly turning around, numbweed still in hand. Guess he forgot about that part. "Headwoman," he says and nods his head in polite acknowledgement. "I'm sure we can figure this out. No need for violence." He tops it off with a charming smile - he can play nice!

She stays where she is for a heartbeat or two, shoulder leaned up against the doorframe and arms crossed over her chest. Silence as the Headwoman pins a steady look onto the bronzerider only breaking away to drop briefly onto the pot of numbweed in his hand and then back up to his face again. Finally, she unfolds herself and pushes away from the lean. A calculated air of laziness in the smile that starts to form and in the slow swaggering steps that carry Indira right up close and personal into E’ro’s space. A hand lifts and fingers come to chuck him under the chin, purring, “Such a bad, bad boy.” That just seconds before both hands flatten firmly against his chest and shove him up against a work counter. Still wearing the mask of seductive predator she prowls in closer, hands planting to the counter top on either side of the bronzer. Aha! Trapped little mouse! This, is punishment? Not unless he’s noticed the subtle coiling shift in her posture, like a snake readying to strike. That ass kicking may just be about to begin.

Trapped? Little mouse? Can we even call it trapped if the mouse wants to be eaten? E'ro can feel his back hit the counter and his heels come against the solid surface. There's no moving - not that he wants to. His blue eyes have widened in surprise, shock, at the antics of the Headwoman. Slowly the surprise turns into amusement and delight, his mouth tugging into a lopsided smile and his stance becoming more relaxed. Unfortunately for them both, when she pushed, the numbweed fell and the jar broke on the ground. So now he's shoved up against a counter, she's leaning against him, and the room stinks of smoked fish, numbweed, and fruit. Lovely. It's the perfect seduction. "If I had known this is what you wanted, I would have made it a point to come to your office ages ago," he replies with the widest of grins on his bronzed face.

Empty kitchen save for the two of them? Check. Too early in the morning for there to be much worry of discovery? Check. No one to hear a bronzer scream? Double check! The pot of numbweed falls, the sound almost deafening in the heavy silence of the kitchens. Tick, tock, tick, tock, time drags on with Indira leaning away a little to put an openly assessing rake of eyes over the younger bronzer. Laughter, low and husky spills from the blonde as she shakes her head with amusement at E’ro’s cocky words. “I think I like you,” she states as hands slide off the counter top and she steps back, allowing her ‘catch’ to escape if he wishes, “So here’s how it’s going to go down. I’ll fix the mess you’ve made and in return….” Sly, sly, sly the smile that spills out, dark eyes gleaming, “You’re going to owe me one.”

E'ro releases his breath in a huge whoosh, a sound that echoes in the cavern. It's his turn to hold onto the edge of the counter as she steps away, his eyes boring holes into the Headwoman. Not in the angry way, but in the desire way. She got her way if that was her intent, because he's sweating it now. He's barely even surprised when she suggests that she fix his mess and he give her an IOU. "Really? I was kinda liking the direction this was going in, but I guess you're the boss." Passing a hand over his face, he pushes away from the counter and gives his waistband a tug. "As long as you don't tell J'cobi or Alara, I'll owe you whatever you want. Though I have a few suggestions." He's still giving her that 'I want you on the table, right now' look. Life as a bronzerider is tough.

Ooooh, she knows –that- look, revels in it even, Indira turning out a deep smirk for it. Yes, punishment is a bitch wearing heeled boots and a mane of tousled blonde hair, standing with out thrust hip and breathing perhaps a little shallower than would be considered ‘normal’. Perfecting a pout of lips, the Headwoman’s hand moves to stroke a light touch of fingers down E’ro’s jaw, “Aw, poor baby. Perhaps if you’re really good,” or bad, take your pick, “I’ll let you live long enough to see if you’re ever able to make good on those, ‘suggestions’” The audible air quotes making it plain that she knows –exactly- what those are likely to be.

The touch, as simple as it may be, makes his jaw tense and a muscle in his cheek jerk. "I get it. You play a hard game, Headwoman." E'ro releases another breath and with it, his jaw. He's got to turn his head to the side, perhaps to not have the vision of such a tousled-and-heeled woman in his direct sight, to clear his head of undesirable thoughts. "I'll keep my game out of your caverns. I hope," as he turns to look at her again, this time with a much more regained composure, "whatever favor it is that it won't be too out of sorts. I'm up for a lot of things, but raid Fort's stores, I'm not." There's a wary eye for the woman - he's quickly learning that she's leagues above as far as he's concerned and he doesn't know what to expect. Well, besides what he DOES want to expect, which is too graphic to be spoken aloud. So he just stands there, waiting on her next move.

Indira’s expression says it all - Wound up bronzerider. Delicious! A soft tsking sound spills out as she moves toward a bucket of rags in the corner, “Games, bronzerider, are what make life worth living. Reminds us we’re still alive.” Is she talking about his pranks, or the games he’s accused her of playing? Hard to say. Tossing a rag E’ro’s way, “Clean up this mess,” the sticky one from the broken pot, “And then I want to see you in my office after duties to discuss those favors you owe me.” Is that an invitation, maybe? Only time will tell.

At least for the dragonrider, the area is filled with tension. "Oh, I well know I'm alive," E'ro says as he watches her walk towards the bucket. "That's not the problem." Unspoken is the problem with her, how she's taunting him with all her hair he wants to run his fingers through and her seductive actions. He's only a man and a weak one at that! What's unexpected is the invitation to her office, or is it the having to clean up after himself? Catching the rag, he takes a step towards the mess of glass of numbweed. "As you wish, Headwoman." Such easy obedience from such a troublemaker; it could either bode good or bad for Indira.

Back to where it all began, Indira, leaned up against the doorframe once again, watching the bronzerider bend to the task. Probably only too well aware of the tension created, that unspoken desire to twist his fingers up in her hair, she gives it a light toss before handing out a last low spoken taunt, “There’s a problem, bronzerider?” She doesn’t even know his name yet. Lips twitch, threatening to form into a smug smirk of triumph for the show of obedience from E’ro. One final long, looong thread of dark eyes over the man on his knees and then she’s gone from the doorway, as if evaporated into thin air, just her words lingering on the air through a low chuckle, “Definitely like you.”

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