Calming Rhythms

Writers: Noli
Date Posted: 2nd June 2025

Characters: Aynia
Description: Aynia wakes after a night of booze and carousing
Location: Barrier Lake Weyr
Date: month 5, day 21 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentor Approved by Heather

Aynia

Aynia lay still in the semi-darkness of her weyr, listening to the even, steady breathing emanating from the sleeping form beside her. She tried to focus on the rhythm of the sound-- _1,2,3 inhale_, _1,2,3 exhale_-- and let it calm her racing mind. Her head throbbed painfully, making it difficult to keep count. Her stomach vied for her attention as well, complaining about the unacceptability of its contents and demanding to be relieved of them. Aynia did her best to ignore both, and willed herself to keep tracking the breaths of her bedmate. _1,2,3 inhale_, _1,2,3 exhale_.

Reaching carefully over to the small wooden table beside her bed, Aynia's hand quested for the small glowbasket that resided there, intending to open it just a crack. But her hand never found its target. Instead, it knocked against the mug that had been hastily plopped down there several candlemarks before and sent the offending dinnerware crashing loudly to the floor. Its contents, a small amount of now-warm bitterale, spread accusingly across the floor of the room. The smell of the alchohol was the final straw; her stomach refused to be ignored any longer. Aynia leapt clumsily from the bed, barely noticing the no-longer-sleeping man who bolted upright at the sound of the crash and the wild movements that immediately followed it. Her mind, so recently resisting her attempts to center it, was now entirely focused on a single goal: _privy_.

She returned a few minutes later, her nausea sated but her headache even worse now. Shards, why had she allowed herself to imbibe so deeply? She was not a drinker normally; she hated the feeling of the lack of control alcohol gave her over her own body. She preferred to be full possession of her senses and her bodily functions at all times. Well, except for mating flights, she acknowledged to herself. _No one_ could be in full control then. But outside of Nalath's risings, Aynia could count on one hand the number of times that she had allowed herself to reach the level of abandon she had this night.

"Are you alright, girl?" The voice was still slightly gruff with sleep, and it punctuated the relative silence in the weyr pointedly. Aynia startled slightly and her eyes struggled to locate the speaker in the darkness. Then she saw the figure on her bed rise to a standing position. It carefully encircled the bed, moving steadily towards her, and paused at the same table from which the ale had fallen to successfully open the basket containing the glows. Aynia clamped her eyes shut as light flooded the room. Immediately, the man hastily readjusted the basket to dim it to a lower, more manageable level.

When Aynia dared to peek her eyes open again, he was standing before her, concern etched on his face. She peered up at him, trying to place him in her memory. He was obviously several decades older than her own 24 Turns. His face was handsome in a rugged, wizened kind of way, and the slight scar did not at all detract from his appearance. His body, too, was the kind that she found attractive-- fit, but not over-muscled; darker in shade with minimal hair interrupting the still-smooth skin. She realized he was nude, and hastily averted her eyes from yet another attractive feature possessed by this stranger in her bedroom.

She realized that she had yet to speak. "Yes, I'm fine." The words came out in almost a croak. Her throat was dry, and she could still taste the acidic remnants from her recent expulsion in the privy. "I'm sorry to have woken you. I... don't normally drink much."

The man chuckled and placed a gentle hand on her lower back, intending to guide her back towards the bed. As his skin touched hers, Aynia had another shock: she was also naked. Faranth, how had she failed to notice _that_? She swore to herself she was never going to touch ale again.

As she sank gratefully onto the edge of the bed and tugged the blanket over her lap, her partner returned to the other side of the room and began rummaging around where Aynia couldn't see. When he rose, he was holding two things: a pair of men's pants, and a large flask. The ease at which he managed to clothe himself with one hand betrayed many instances of practice. Fastening his trousers without even looking, he approached Aynia again, proffering the flask like a gift.

"Here, drink this." He smiled kindly to her, waiting patiently as she hesitated.

"Uh, no, thank you. I'm sorry, I just don't think I could handle--"

"It's water, with just a tiny drop of fellis juice," he reassured her. As she accepted the offering, he sank on the bed next to her. "I could tell that you weren't a tavern regular. I filled it for just this possibility." And he patted her back reassuringly as she sipped the contents of the flask in a caring, almost fatherly way.

The fellis immediately began to relax her, and her headache improved rapidly with the hydrating effects of the drink. She drank deeply, incredibly grateful for the foresight of this still-nameless stranger who was now cleaning the mess of spilled ale from her floor. She watched the muscles on his back ripple as he crouched and tugged the bedcover around herself a little tighter. When he stood, she looked away hastily so as not to be caught staring.

"Better?" He returned to her side and took the now-empty flask from her hand, tossing it casually out of the way onto a pile of clothing-- theirs-- a few feet away.

"Yes, thanks," she answered truthfully. "So... ah... I'm so sorry, I don't remember much. I'm not sure... I mean..." She fumbled for words to explain her predicament.

The man began to chuckle. "You wish my name, right?" His smile widened at her tiny embarrassed nod. "It's fine. Don't look so glum, woman. I'm not offended." He winked at her. "I'm Gr'nal, rider of bronze Cularth, from Dreams End. We met at the tavern. I like to visit this region occasionally, especially in the evenings when its cooler. And you're Aynia, right?" She nodded again, a bit more firmly now. "It's a pleasure to meet you again."

Aynia was feeling much better now, both physically and mentally, and took a moment to consider the new information she had just been presented. Pieces of the evening were now returning to her-- she remembered going to the tavern alone to escape the torment of her thoughts; remembered the crowd of riders who had pressed around her as she drank more and more hoping for her attention; remembered this dark stranger standing outside the doorway when she stumbled outside to escape their advances. She remembered his attentive concern over her safety as he helped her mount Nalath. And she remembered calling to him as he bid her farewell and started to return to the bar, asking him to see her back to her weyr safely, intent on bedding him. It appears she had succeeded.

"Gr'nal. I appreciate your kindness, really. It's still a bit hazy, but I have a pretty good grasp of how we got here." She smiled up at him. He reached out, his pinky finger gently tracing the curve of her jaw, continuing around to the base of her neck and finally tracing her spine down to where it disappeared under the blanket just above her tailbone. The touch was electrifying.

"It was my pleasure. Twice," he quipped, and he winked good-naturedly at her.

Aynia felt a surge of guilt suddenly take hold of her, and she unconsciously stiffened as the bronzerider continued his caresses on her exposed backside, clearly questioning for an encore. As he felt her muscles tighten, he immediately dropped his hand. "I apologize. I didn't mean to presume."

Aynia nodded, unable to speak, unable to offer any explanation for her sudden withdrawal to this kind rider who had helped her get home and nursed her back to health from her own poor judgement. She hated herself for her own silence as he finished dressing and called for his dragon to retrieve him. As he mounted the magnificent bronze, he gave her one final, warm smile. "I really enjoyed meeting you, Aynia. I hope we have cause to cross paths again soon." And without waiting for a reply which they both knew would not come, he disappeared from view as his dragon dropped gracefully from the ledge.

Aynia closed the glows and laid back down in her bed, desiring to go back to sleep for a bit. She did not want to think right now. She did not want to dwell on memories of family members, or brownriders, or children who were never born. She did not want to recall the excitement of mating chases or the pleasure of its final ecstasy. And she certainly did not want to confront the growing hole in her heart that she had tried to fill with a midnight escapade with a stranger who separated from her in equal parts by Turns and distance. She could not bear it tonight.

So instead, she forced herself to focus on her breathing. She carefully modulated her intake and output, timing them, attempting to match the memory of Gr'nal's soothing pattern from a candlemark before. And finally, she began to calm as her mind latched onto that familiar rhythm. _1,2,3 inhale_, _1,2,3 exhale_. Aynia drifted off into the sweet nothingness of sleep.

Last updated on the June 8th 2025

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Calming Rhythms