hide-and-seek [ zeis! ]

[Kilnarak]

The hall was almost eerily quiet around early evening - quiet and empty. This time of the day, most were busy - finishing up their chores for the day, taking their dinner, changing watches - and N'raan had chosen it for that; he knew no one would be here. He had watched for the better part of two weeks after Canph had told him where the rooms were, watching the comings and goings of nearby residents, taking note of who might or might not be around. Since then he had visited on a number of occasions, playing the ghost - unseen and unheard, look but don't touch, leave things just as they were so no one was the wiser.

He hadn't been intending for tonight to be any different, when he slunk silently into K'huna's empty room. As on most of his excursions, Teimoph had been left behind - the growing hatchling slept, but even had he been awake, the hall connecting the rooms here were nearly too small for him, would make it difficult for him to move comfortably. If he were to be truthful, N'raan would have to say he was glad for the red's absence tonight - Teimoph had gone to sleep in a foul mood, the smoldering cinders of his temper ready to flare at the slightest provocation. The young red's temper was difficult to deal with, particularly now that N'raan had realized he was not wholly immune to it. So once he had the chance, once Teimoph had fallen asleep, he had changed out of his dusty clothing and into a plain dark tunic and slacks - easier to blend in with the shadows of the Eyrie's many halls and crevices - and then he had crept out for the night.

N'raan had intended to only observe, as he had on other visits. However, as he made his way out toward Canph's ledge to admire the view (it was, he felt, particularly nice - most of the Eyrie spread out before it like a map) something poking out of K'huna's rumpled bedding caught his interest. The end of a leather-wrapped haft poked out from beneath a pillow - the hilt of a weapon? While N'raan had heard of soldiers who slept with their swords, he had never actually met one. While better judgment told him not to touch anything, curiosity eventually won out over it and he dug the object out from beneath it's coverings. It wasn't a sword or a dagger, or any other bladed implement, rather, it was a... riding crop?

N'raan frowned curiously at the crop as he lifted it from out of the bedding. Why did K'huna have a riding crop in his bed? He didn't think the man owned a horse, and it certainly couldn't be for Canph - he doubted the feathered giant would even be able to feel the thing, let alone allow K'huna to strike him with it. N'raan's brows furrowed slightly as he toyed with the crop, absently testing its weight against his palm. It was an interesting toy, at least - he had never seen the things cause much damage to a horse (although he had never actually been around the large animals much), and he wondered what damage it might cause to human flesh?

He had already broken one of his rules in touching the thing, and he was considering breaking another in swiping it when he heard a heavy footfall out in the hallway. N'raan fell still all of a sudden, frozen in place as he listened - would the footfalls lead away? But no, they seemed to be coming closer. No one should have been in the halls just now! He hissed a curse softly to himself, and discarded the crop - dropping it haphazardly back onto the bed. He couldn't be sure who was walking outside - if they would pass by, or if it was K'huna coming back to his rooms early - but neither could he be too careful.

N'raan looked around briefly, assessing the man's room for possible hiding places - there weren't many, really. He could hide beneath bedding, or discarded clothing, but that would be far too obvious; and K'huna didn't seem to own much furniture aside from a few, small, spare items that would not provide nearly enough cover. After the briefest few seconds searching for a potential hide away, N'raan finally decided upon a dark corner of the room - out of sight from the doorway and heavily shadowed. If he was lucky, his dark clothing and complexion would spare him from notice. If he was very lucky, whoever it was in the hall would simply walk on past and render the act of hiding unnecessary.

[zeis]

The redrider's day had not been a good one. Earlier this morning word had come on the back of a sweeprider, a letter from Chydyn addressed to the Wingletmaster himself. Mail from the outside settlements was uncommon enough for the Eyrie, but a letter from K'huna's father, Aldon, was altogether unheard of. Normally it was his mother, or brothers that sent him sparse letters, perhaps three or four a year. But his father? It had been with a growing sense of dread that he read the letter, his father's hand stilted and awkward. Come now, something wrong with his mother.

Expecting the worst, he had gone at once with Canph to Chydyn to find his mother ill, but still alive. Tense and on edge, something his father said, which at this point he didn't care to remember, had sparked some heated words. Words he regretted then, and was still regretting now. He sought refuge elsewhere in Chydyn, only to have Canph tell him in slightly tentative tones that a girl nearby was a potential candidate. And as if that wasn't enough, though the girl said yes, her mulish family had been extremely difficult about the whole thing. It took all of his patience not to start shouting, and the ride back to the Eyrie had been an uncomfortable one with a headache pounding away in his head.

No, it had not been a good day at all. There was nothing that sounded more appealing to K'huna then a comfortable night spent in his room. Maybe he'd crack open that bottle of Sayaie spirits he'd been saving. Get nice and drunk, and spend the night out on the ledge with Canph. He had left the great bird at the feeding pens below to sate his hunger, and flirt with a few of the greens. The walk back to his own chambers seemed longer than it was, every step punctuated by a painful pulsing in his head. The cure for that was a few glasses of liquor. Maybe give himself a headache in the morning, but at least he'd feel better tonight.

He stalked down the hall and through his doorway, taking of his thick leather gloves even before he entered the room. He stuffed the gloves into one pocket, and reached up the pull off the goggles pushed high up on his forehead. These he tucked carefully away into a breast pocket, before shrugging off the great riding coat all together and mantling it over a chair back. He strode over to the large wooden chest at the foot of his bed, reaching behind him with one hand and undoing the tight bun he kept his hair in whenever he flew. The red-rider ran one hand through his now free hair with a sigh of relief, already feeling better now that he was physically alone. Are you okay?

It was an unexpected question from the red, though K'huna welcomed it. Canph could test his patience, but whenever the Wingletmaster was actually angry he got in line and behaved. It was a welcome feeling of comfort in his mind, a concerned voice. I'm fine. How's dinner? He asked as a distraction, dropping down to a crouch as he popped the top on the trunk. Good. Alpacas are really tasty. I thought you said they were too hairy. This one was shaved. K'huna chuckled in spite of the ache of his head, and quickly rifled through the contents of the quest until he found what he wanted. Wrapped in a few protective cloths at the bottom of the chest was a short, long necked, squarish bottle, filled with finely aged liquor. He'd picked it up on a trip to Sayaie a year ago, saving it specifically for hard times and special occasion. He'd only poured from the bottle on the night of the Koxi attack all those months ago, and the day after the feast, once the first lesson was over in commemoration of the hatching. Perhaps this was a moment of weakness, but it felt like hard times.

He pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth, spat it into the lid of the chest, and took a quick swig. It was a crime to drink from the bottle so fast and not savor it proper, but at this moment he didn't much care. You coming up soon? I want another alpaca, but I'll be there, okay? Okay. K'huna stood slowly, and wandered over to the doorway to the ledge, leaning there, and taking another drink. His eyes turned briefly to the lights in the other eylings, making out and recognizing the distinctive forms of simourv, before lifting to the stars. He could entertain these worries tonight, but that was it. Tomorrow there were lessons, and other work to be done. Work, as always for K'huna, came first.

[Kilnarak]

When K'huna stalked through the door, N'raan gave a mental curse as his hope that the footsteps would simply continue down the hallway, passing the room. He could feel Teimoph stirring slightly as the sharp edged thought broke the relative silence of their bond - but the young red didn't wake. Outwardly N'raan remained completely silent, watching K'huna stride purposefully across the room to a chest on the other side. N'raan had peeked into it once before, although he hadn't seen anything particularly interesting on the surface and hadn't felt it particularly wise to dig through it in search of more interesting (or incriminating) belongings. Now that K'huna seemed so interested in it, however, it made him curious.

The dark-skinned boy remained crouched and silent for some time, holding near completely still - not quite holding his breath, but drawing slow, silent breaths. He watched K'huna withdraw the bottle and drink from it. He watched K'huna move away from the chest, toward the simourv-ledge. And he watched K'huna stand there, just inside the doorway, and drink - oblivious to the rest of his room. It was as good a chance as any to make an escape - the man's back was turned, N'raan could be out the door and down the hall before he'd have time to turn around.

His bright amber gaze flicked away from K'huna a moment, gauging the distance between himself and the door, and then back. Slowly, silently, he began to creep out of his corner - slinking low and carefully, and stopping dead still at the slightest shift in K'huna's posture. When he lifted the bottle to take another swallow, when he turned his head to gaze across the lights of the Eyrie - every slight movement and N'raan's attention shot back to the man, holding his breath. It made progress particularly slow and tedious - the idea of being caught was unpleasant, but to an extent it also thrilled him. His heart beat accelerating, adrenaline coursing through his veins, it was exhilarating and addictive.

It was also the reason why he slowed to a halt as he neared the door. Only a few feet between himself and the freedom of the hallways, a quick dash and stealth wouldn't even be necessary anymore - and he had stopped, turning his attention back to K'huna, back to the chest. His eyes narrowed, glancing from one to the other. He wondered how far he could press his luck - luck didn't seem to care for him much tonight, but where he lacked luck curiosity might carry him. Curiosity killed the cat, would he share that fate?

He hesitated a moment longer, then decided to find out. Carefully, he began to pick his way back into the room - perhaps a bit less careful than he had been in his brief flight. Half the thrill was the idea of getting caught, and when he reached the chest he paused to watch K'huna again - making certain he would not turn. He absently ran his fingers about the lid, thoughtful - but really, he knew he could get in here, the chest would be there later. He glanced down at the box that he had previously assumed to be simply a wardrobe, frowning at it, and then took his hand away from it and began to continue, picking his way carefully toward K'huna. He didn't make it far - this close he didn't watch his feet, only the target - and he didn't notice the discarded cork beneath him until he stepped on it. His balance was off and he staggered heavily - easily audible - and loosed a softly hissed curse as he caught himself on the edge of K'huna's bed.

Well, he had to be caught some time, didn't he? His narrowed gaze flicked immediately up to K'huna once he had his feet under him again, his body tensed. He was ready to move, to flee, although he wasn't entirely certain he really wanted to.

[zeis]

K'huna was normally fairly observant. By all means, he should have noticed the displaced crop in his room, should have heard the footfalls and the breathing in the room with him. But he didn't. His mind for now, was clouded with today's troubles, and plans for what he would have to do tomorrow. So he didn't hear until the intruder made a mistake, slipping behind him and collapsing with an audible shuffle of steps and a hiss somewhere behind him. The red-rider, never one to like being surprised, especially in his personal chambers, reacted quickly to the perceived threat.

He whirled to face the intruder, and his hand darted to the blade hanging still at his belt even as he was turning, drawing it cleanly from the scabbard with a hiss of metal. Whatever thoughts he had been entertaining were replaced immediately with those familiar cold calculations of battle, and his face was impassive and cold. He stood with his side to N'raan to present a smaller target, with his shortsword held out ready and gleaming before him in one hand. The other still clutched the bottle of spirits, which he hand come damn near close to dropping, though he lifted this to slightly, ready to use it as an improvised weapon. Somewhere down below outside, Canph gave a sudden and worried roar to the sudden change he felt in his rider's mind.

This whole transformation lasted only a few seconds, before he realized who it was that had snuck up on him. N'raan. Just N'raan. K'huna's eyes narrowed, and he slowly but decisively sheathed the weapon he had been so ready to use. If there was any danger still left in the Winglet, Canph would have sensed it, and warned him. He sighed in exasperation, and lifted his now free hand to rub at his temples, easing the headache there while he mentally eased his red's fears. "What the hell are you doing here?"

It was then that he noticed the few displaced objects in the room, particularly the crop that lay tossed idly on the bed. K'huna was not the type of man to be embarrassed, and the sight of it for whatever reason both irritated and amused him. Irritated him, because it meant the little punk had been going through his things, with possible thieving intent. Amused because the object had apparently interested the winglet so much, and irritated further still that it managed to amuse him at all. His eyes looked back to N'raan, suspicious and tired, and he made no move to help the younger man up off the floor. He took a drink absently, and murmured with sullen grumpiness. "If you wanted to crawl into my bed so bad, that ain't the way to do it..." It may have been a joke, but there was possibly some truth to it, and that annoyed him too.

[Kilnarak]

N'raan had caught himself on the edge of the bed, and had been about to push back up to his feet he froze - his eyes following the brief flash of a drawn blade, noting the soft hiss of steel on leather as it was freed from its sheathe. When K'huna turned, the dark-skinned youth didn't look particularly frightened - alert, yes, a touch wary, but more as if he were considering the drawn weapon. He had been in worse situations, there were plenty of things lying about the Wingletmaster's room that could serve as improvised weapons if that sword was turned on him. After a few moments, as K'huna moved to re-sheathe his weapon, N'raan allowed a brief but entirely too amused smirk play across his lips - biting back on the sudden urge to laugh.

Now that the drama of drama of drawn blades with their hard, sharp edges was over - at least for the moment - N'raan found that he really could not recall what he intended to do, once he regained his footing. And so, instead of getting up as he had planned earlier, the younger red-bonded settled back to sit on the bed - making himself comfortable. It wasn't like he had any reason not to, if the Wingletmaster hadn't kicked him out into the hallway yet he probably wasn't going to - at least not until his question was answered. And the thief remembered how they had met - even if it felt so long ago now - and he remembered the things Canph had told him... So N'raan offered his broadest grin, mocking and amused, as he answered simply: "Lookin'."

As he said it, N'raan did just that, pointedly turning his gaze away from K'huna to survey the room, as if it was the first time he had done so. As his eyes flicked from one sparse item of furniture to the next, that hint of mocking amusement continued to cling to his expression - he didn't look bored, at least, even if there was little enough for him to look at. "No?" he offered by way of response to the man's second comment, his voice holding a faint, purring quality and his lips curving into a sly smirk. "Wha' 'd be a better way t' go 'bout 't, then? Should w' have brought flowers? Sweets?"

When his attention finally returned to the Wingletmaster, he looked the older man up and down, before finally focusing his gaze on the bottle he held. He nodded toward the bottle, canting his head slightly to the side and leaning back on his hands before flicking his gaze back to K'huna's face. "S'ppose yer na' gon' be s' kind as t' share? No?" he laughed softly, the sound rich and dark, and looked away again. This time, his attention turned to the bed itself, and the item on it. N'raan carefully picked up the riding-crop, absently toying with the item, and glanced briefly back to K'huna - his eyes glinted deviously. "S'ppose y've had stranger thin's in yer bed, haa? Wha's 'nother?" he laughed once again, before returning his attention to the crop. "S', wha'ever 's this for, hmmm?"

[zeis]

K'huna snorted at the man's answer, and watched carefully as the cheeky intruder seemed to just make himself at home. Sure, why not? Look through my things, maybe you can borrow some of my clothes. He thought sourly, unknowingly voicing these snide comments to a much relieved Canph. The red in question was lost somewhere between amusement and shame as he saw through his riders eyes what had caused the rush of adrenaline. That boy, N'raan, was finally paying his rider a visit, and hopefully, with the mood K'huna was in, he would not find out about what Canph had told him. Hopefully.

"I'll tell you when you're older." He took another pull of the liquor, and eyed N'raan curiously. Just what was he doing here anyway? He said he'd been looking around, but it was a bit of a trek up here from the Winglet's barrack. Plus, Canph or any number of other riders and their simourv could have noticed him. Did he really just show up at the right time to catch both him and Canph out? That seemed like a really big coincidence. Was it only his room, or was the Winglet snooping around others as well?

"N'raan? Asking for things? Maybe you are learnin' something." K'huna sighed with a shake of his head, and strode forward a few steps before crouching down to snatch up the discarded cork. He replaced the seal as he crossed the room, but he did not offer N'raan any. Instead he put the bottle safely back in its place in the the wooden chest, then closed the lid firmly. He turned, and gazed sternly at the Winglet. "No dice, though. You know you're not supposed to be drinking." The way he said this made it clear the Wingletmaster through the younger red-rider probably didn't adhere to that rule at all whenever eyes weren't on him.

At the strange thing in his bed notion, he made no comment. However he was steadily resolving to throw the Winglet out on his ass. He was too tired and irritated to deal with him appropriately right now, and to make matters worse he was reading something in N'raan's eyes that interested him. When he quite frankly, couldn't afford to be interested. He raised an eyebrow when N'raan started toying with the riding crop, then walked over to where he sat on the bed and took the thing from the other man's hands. "You're gonna find out unless you move your ass. Off the bed. Now."

[Kilnarak]

The younger red-rider made a decidedly indignant noise as K'huna declared him too young. The man hadn't seemed to take issue at his age before - of course, before he hadn't been bonded to a fiery-tempered monster. "Y' can't be tha' much older 'n me, hunter," he drawled, offering another knowing grin up to the Wingletmaster."An' y' certainly didn' have problem with th' idea b'fore," he purred, leaning back on his hands to watch K'huna stride across the room. For a moment, he wondered if the older man actually was going to share his drink; but then K'huna stopped short, put the bottle away, and N'raan made absolutely certain the man saw the mocking pout that played across his lips. "Tha' ain' n' fun, hunter."

As the Wingletmaster paused to apparently consider what to do about the intruder to his room, N'raan only shifted into more of a lounge - rolling onto his side and reclining on the rumbled mess that was K'huna's bed. His smirk only broadened as he made note of K'huna's deepening glower, reading the man's frustration like it was an open book. And while he could not truly ascertain what exactly it was that caused it, he did at least understand the obvious fact that he was at the root of it - the idea amused him. He stretched languidly, absently humming to himself and rapping the riding crop upon the edge of the bed. He was rather amused by this new toy as well, and the implications that arose from it.

Of course, then K'huna strode over and took the toy from him, snatching it away. N'raan frowned briefly up at the older man, making a hurt face - really, if K'huna hadn't known better, it might actually be believable. At the orders, however, the dark-skinned youth did not do much more than snort lightly and strike a more languid pose. "Au, really? Yer gon' strike m' with 't, hunter? Wha' 'f I don' move? 's real comfy here..." he trailed off, smirking up at K'huna. He wondered if the man would actually carry through with his threats, if he'd kick him out into the hall. He supposed he would have to leave then, but of course that wouldn't stop him from returning later...