Timing is Everything

Writers: Heather, Yvonne
Date Posted: 3rd October 2025

Characters: Esiah, H'run
Description: H'run nurses a hangover while Esiah makes his move
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 6, day 27 of Turn 12
Notes: Comes after 'DFW: When The Lights Come Up'
Mentioned: K'mai, Z'kim, I'serin, Saibra, N'vanik

Esiah

H'run

H'run woke up and immediately wished that he hadn't. His mouth tasted rotten. Blinking sent stabbing pains though his skull. His stomach roiled unhappily as the room lurched in uneven circles.

**Faranth, I am hungover.**

It was the Hatching Feast. He remembered how carefully he'd prepared in case a certain bluerider happened to show up, and then his mixed emotions at seeing K'mai. How proud he'd been that things were... better. Sort of. But then there was also that show that Z'kim and N'vanik had put on, and his chat with Z'kim afterward where the greenrider had insinuated some very _specific_ things.

It was hard to recall exactly what he'd said, but he did remember Z'kim asking about K'mai, and how the light sparking off K'mai's fair hair across the Dining Cavern felt like a slap to the face. He remembered the way jealousy twisted like a knife in the innards, and how much he'd wanted to tell Z'kim _everything_. How delightful it would be to hurt K'mai by spreading some nasty rumors about him and I'serin. And how likely those rumors were to start anyway, and K'mai was likely going to think that he was the originator.

He groaned and put his hands over his face. His stomach contemplated emptying itself, or perhaps the pain was just hunger pangs. Panitath using him as a doormat would have left him in better condition.

Esiah heard his guest and figured the bluerider had finally woken. Bright sun filtered into the Master Harper's quarters, just the way he liked. He rarely used curtains or drapes if he didn't have to. Leaving his small dining nook, he approached the couch. "There's a bucket there beside the bed if you need it."

**Ah.** H'run pressed a hand over his eyes and desperately tried to remember when he'd met up with Esiah. "Thank you for the couch. I hope you forgive me if I don't immediately get up."

"Take your time," Esiah cautioned. "I have some hangover-cure breakfast items over here when you're ready."

H'run peeked through his fingers. "Like what?"

"Well, I wasn't sure if you were the greasy-salty cure type or the pastry-sweets sort, so I brought both. Also, this friend of mine in the lower caverns makes this green drink that typically helps. I brought a glass of it if you're feeling brave enough to try it."

The bluerider considered how noxious his insides felt versus how awful the drink was likely to be. The drink won. "It couldn't make things worse. I... thank you. I can't... remember much from last night..." he admitted cautiously.

"I saved you from burning your tunic," the healer told him as he handed him the hangover cure.

The tunic in question lay crumpled in a heap next to the bucket. H'run eyed the drink dubiously. "Pity."

Esiah laughed. "Well, you can still burn it, if you want."

The smell of imaginary smoke was enough to make H'run gag. "Perhaps not," he said. "I have already imposed too much on you to fill your very delightful weyr with smoke as well."

"We could always make it a beach bonfire." The harper studied the bluerider. "You're too good for the person who broke your heart, you know."

"Hold that thought." H'run held up a finger, then downed the entire contents of whatever was in the so-called 'cure' in one gulp. He turned green, then white, then sipped at his water and hoped that he wasn't going to throw up on Esiah's feet. "Farnath, that was _vile_. Are you sure you're not mad at me? Because that tastes like you are."

"In my defense, I'm a harper, not a healer." Esiah reached down and picked up a salted, fried piece of porcine and took a bite. A piece of fruit went down next.

He hadn't said that he wasn't angry. H'run swung his feet to the ground and steadied himself as the room lurched around him. Shells, he hadn't had a hangover this bad in turns. "Ah... did you have a good time last night?"

"Yes. Check this out," Esiah said around a mouthful of pastry. The harper brought out the painting he'd done from the evening before of the Hatching Party. The painting was a swirl of vivid colors, courtesy of the spectacular garments worn by the partygoers.

"Oh my!" The colours swirled dizzyingly. H'run squinted at the canvas, both impressed by the artwork and relieved that Esiah hadn't told him he'd done something regrettable. He still wasn't sure if Esiah was mad. "That looks like the Weyrwoman? I love the way you've reflected light in her dress. And... is that N'vanik... dancing..."

Esiah snorted. "No, I would never put the Weyrleader and whatever _that_ was on my canvas."

Relief made his knees weak. Just a man in a pink tunic, which was really more of a lilac now that he looked at it. His own preoccupations were clouding his judgement. "It's lovely, Esiah. It was a lovely Hatching and you've captured it beautifully. I am again in awe of your bushwork."

“Perhaps you will agree to be my canvas sometime,” the harper said with a flash of teeth as he smiled.

"You mean subject...?" H'run trailed off, then managed to find some bravado through the nausea. "Unless you care to find out how ticklish I am?"

"You've already been my subject once before," Esiah pointed out, referencing their meeting on the beach. "The brushes can be ticklish," the harper acquiesced, "but I am very good at what I do."

"I believe you, Master Esiah--" His attempt at being suave failed as H'run grabbed for the bucket. "Oh sweet Faranth..."

Last updated on the October 12th 2025

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Timing is Everything