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Well, at least he hadn't put up an argument. Not in public at least. But even Idri had been a little perturbed by the shift in his expression and was unable to decipher what the darkening of his eyes accounted for. But she had followed complacently, taking a moment to admire the weyr as she stepped in. It was tasteful, surprisingly so. She had seen the interiors of a few weyrs in her time and the higher the rank was, the easier it was to fill it with gaudy tat as an exorbitant flaunting of their wealth.
"It looks like you've settled in well." It wasn't a dig or even remotely close to an insult. It was as close to a compliment as it could be, made all the more evident by the appreciation on her face. She took a seat on the couch, carefully and neatly setting one of the cushions to one side so that she could sit comfortable, albeit a little primly.
And that name, ringing through the air between them, was the only word she needed to say. The change in his demeanor was visible, and his dark eyes instantly stormed over as all the complicated mess of feeling he had for his weyrwoman -- he refused to say 'former' -- rolled over him.
((Vastolth. Get back here now.)) The voice was insistent and left no room for negotiation. He could feel the bronze grumbling, but starting to shift his weight and move.
"Follow me..." he turned away, relieved to face away from her while he composed himself. Was she going to tell him to leave her alone? He wouldn't do that, not unless Tyne asked him to, and he would ask for a transfer anywhere at that point to not have to be so close and so far from her again. Whatever this healer had to say, he was going to make sure that she knew he was there to stay.
He led her to his weyr. A sevenday or so had passed -- S'ryll stopped counting the days as they no longer mattered -- and he'd settled in nicely. It was not, as he'd made it sound, a weyr the size fit for a blue, but nor was it a huge weyr. Regardless, it was already outfitted as if he'd lived there for a Turn. The whole thing screamed casual comfort, from the floor coverings, to the small touches in the decor. It was sparse of 'things,' the little knickknacks that some riders had, but those that were there were nice. The central table had what was obviously dragon shell on it, the edges cast in silver and made to stand on edge. A couple paintings even adorned the walls, artist abstracts or some strange perspective of a runner in one, or a dragon in the other. Fluffy pillow replaced the standard ones on the couch, and a soft blanket was thrown over the back. And it all fit him, his personality, even at just first glance, so nicely.
"Have a seat where you'd like, Healer Idri," he said as they entered. He heard dragon wings beyond the chamber, and the bronze gave a rumble to announce his arrival.
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
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I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!