Is it weird, now?

In which Lis, somewhat stale from her bizarre premeditated adultery, encounters the accomplice.

Star Stones
With Thread in full swing and fall charts so common, this old sentinel is a bit of a charming antiquity, a monument to history: lichens eat at the stone in crevices not latey scrubbed, and firelizards perch in the unblinking socket of the Eye Rock.  Only snow lands often on the broad, lower ledge, and only wind climbs the short stair to the top, but the view for the curious is worth it and more, as all the mountains of the Reaches' range spear the sky above, and the Weyr itself lays below, its ring of spires like some great titan's discarded crown.
  It is a spring midmorning.
To the west, you see Cairhoth.
Balanced in the Eye Rock is Arson.
Bronze Jhanath and blue Kearneth are here.
You notice Sarhai asleep here.
R'han and Rianne are here.
Obvious exits:
Spires' Sky

R'han lies stretched out against Jhanath, brooding Jhanath, holding light conversation with Rianne. His basso drawl is a wonder of wry deprecation, picking up where the woman's lighter voice ends. "Fort Sea Hold." Even the name holds the tang of the region's accent: elongated vowels, rounded consonants. "Far enough away that living here is a definite inconvenience."

Lis pauses at the exit to the Star Stones, using the moment she needs to catch her breath - a challenge to get up those stairs with a baby, but easier than bugging Alymath - to peek out at the stones. Eyes widen as she spots R'han - or at least notices Jhanath's palpable bad mood - backpedaling down a step. Perhaps it's not to late to flee?

Far too late. Jhanath's paranoia is the lock on that door; the bronze angles his heavy head around and telescopes, wingspars lifting in recognition. Eyes open, and turn blue. /You/.
 
"Yes. From Ista it's even worse...." Rianne says. And then Lis lands. Oh, dear... oh, dear, dear dear... Her lips twitch as she looks between the pair from under her lashes as discreetly as possible. Whatever is /this/ about? As Lis starts to back away, she calls out sweetly, "Hello there, greenrider! How are you today? Come to join us in the sun?" Rianne asks from where she sits next to R'han and his brooding sort of bronze.

Lis' shoulders slump in defeat, but she squares them as she steps forth into the open with a cheerful smile on her face that defies any sort of awkwardness. "Morning!" she trills brightly, closing the door behind her and waving to Rianne - and R'han; she might as well. "Thought I might. I've got a bit of a soft spot for the Star Stones, too."

"And a soft spot for us as well?" wonders R'han of nobody in particular. If Lis affected him as he and his affects her, the moment is long gone, pressed into bronze hide and the newly coquettish curve of the dragon's neck. He turns his head to follow where other attentions have gone; one blue eye, the right, focuses on the newcomer with bright and unblinking welcome. "Good morning."

Lis waves a hand at R'han as she unfolds her own blanket, brought up under one arm, and catches the package of pastries that its been rolled around. "Perhaps," she admits, settling down to untie the twine and unfold the covering fabric. "Bun?" is asked as she offers the basket towards the others politely.

R'han reaches out to accept one, ignoring with dignity the uncharacteristically malevolence-free croon Jhanath throats through the rock. "Thank you. -- Sit," he invites, waving an arm towards the open expanse available. "Stay a while. Keep me -- us -- company."

"Yes.. especially since I really do have to go," Rianne says with a smile as she stands. "Well. It was nice to meet you, R'han. And good to see you, Lis, as well... and so soon atfter Khory's little party." She smiles at them with a bit of a laugh in her eyes as she moves towards her own dragon with a wave of farewell. "Goodbye!" she calls cheerfully and mounts up onto her dragon to fly away.

Rianne is able to make their way up Kearneth's neck with his gracious help and to settle in in relative comfort
Kearneth takes off.

Taking one for herself as well, Lis nibbles idly on the crust as she scoots across the rock towards R'han more deftly than she should be able to this far along in pregnancy. "I don't see why not. After all, a day with you can't be any worse than a night," comes her tongue-in-cheek comment as Rianne leaves.

Some minute change in the man's posture -- a shift of shoulders, a darker shadow in the jaw -- betrays the lazy sprawl of indifference; the smile, though, stays the same, matched by the light sweep of hooded eyes. "From what little I recall, you sounded as though you were enjoying yourself quite well."

"Turns of practice." Lis deflects the compliment and any of its implications around a mouthful of dough and fruit filling, brushing the crumbs from her bodice and belly. "People tend to appreciate a little enjoyment, so one does what one can."

The answer prompts a laugh from Rin, whose ego is of a different sort. He flicks a crumb towards his lifemate, marring the polished scythe of a talon; the rest of him breaks off an edge of muffin, and feeds it piecemeal to the winds. "How far are you from birth?" he wonders, glancing sidelong at the swell of her stomach. "You look imminent, or is that my feeble male imagination?"

Lis brushes more crumbs off of the bulge in question, eyeing it thoughtfully as she counts back the months. "A few more sevendays at least. Not quite a month, I would hope. Mine tend to be later than earlier." A fact she clearly resents. "I'm not going to drop my sprog here, if that's what you're worried about," she assures the man in a business-like manner.

"Jhanath can catch," yawns Rin, pillowing his head again in folded arms. The bronze's leg shifts, dropping him a few degrees lower; his voice lurches with it, moving on, unconcerned. "I can coach. Exactly how many more of these sprats are you intending on dropping into the world, if I may ask?"

Lis turns to look at R'han with a mask of utter innocence; worse, somehow, than any leer or lascivious grin. "Oh, I don't know... can't I have one of yours?" It's delivered deadpan, and she watches him for reaction without - hopefully - too much tell-tale laughter in her eyes.

R'han is unmoved. "Go away, if you're going to go mad," he orders, flapping a disinterested hand at the very notion of seeding more life on Pern. And with /her/, to boot. "It's a long drop down; I'd be loathe to hurl you. You might not bounce."

Lis' face falls as she fails to get a rise out of the bronzerider, but she's also - twistedly, sickly - disappointed in some way. A bothersome pest of a firelizard blinks into view in front of her, Healer-banded. Knowing /why/, the greenrider sighs and starts to get up. "A pity; I suppose a shall. Keep the muffins - I've been putting off a Healer appointment."

"Do you want a ride?" wonders R'han, not moving. Jhanath swings his head to inspect the greenrider's bulk critically; he could carry her. He could. One forearm inches forward, speculatively.

Lis shakes her head, unlatching the door and sneaking past it again. "Thank you, R'han, but it's not necessary. And after all, you wouldn't want people to think you'd got a soft spot for me, would you?" And with that, she disappears into some worn weyr warren.