Hedonistic Tendencies
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: Sia
Date Posted: 26th March 2026
Characters: Varethos, M'thos
Description: Varethos gets ready for his 'date' with Sybana and Zaphare
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 8, day 10 of Turn 12
Notes: Precedes "Descent into Depravity"
Mentioned: Zaphare, Sybana, Tamerel, H'lem, T'mhas, M'rhas
The weyr was quiet in the early evening. Tamerel and T'mhas were in the dining hall. M'thos was a bit more of a wild card, with weyrlings nearing graduation, but it was worth the risk to sneak in and steal what he needed.
Varethos stood in front of the little polished metal mirror sitting beside the washbasin, turning his head side to side while attempting to convince his hair to behave. It had firmly decided not to.
The jar in his hand was not his.
It was a small clay pot with the faint scent of spiced herbs, one of those fancy hair waxes that came from a tropical hold. It was supposed to help shape that gently tousled windswept look without a dragon to do a gentle circle around the 'bowl.
He'd done a quick look through the box on his father's dresser and pulled out a few bottles of cologne and skincare, too, and those balanced awkwardly next to the washbasin as he gently and determinedly ran his fingers through his hair. He had his own things, back in his tiny bachelor apartment in the lower caverns, but a newly-walked journeyman didn't have much in the way of finely made and expensive things. His harper blue shirt was nice and freshly pressed, at least, even if he'd spent twenty minutes debating on whether or not to leave the top button unbuttoned and whether to wear the leather cord around his neck that he liked. He decided no to the cord, but now the button looked silly undone. But buttoned up made him look like a creche-teacher.
(He was a creche-teacher. Zaphare and Sybana didn't need a reminder of that. He already had a wrist brace from taking that fall and then too many hits on the ice.)
He'd tried not to think too hard about what he'd agreed to do that night. Normally it wouldn't have been that big a deal for him. It was just sex, after all. He'd had multiple 'weyrmates' when he was a child in the creche, and had beat his dads to 'the talk' by having a boyfriend already and making it to [canon compliant second base] (though what that meant wasn't entirely accurate to the real metaphor).
But he knew what it was like in the holds.
He remembered how much it had pained T'mhas, even if his father had long since carved out some uneasy peace with his own parents and extended family, even if Varethos still found it preferable to make himself scarce than spend any time with them (if, for some reason, he went back to Standing, he doubted they would come now that all the 'real' grandchildren had Impressed). Hold traditions had teeth that didn't easily let go.
He couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Zaphare and Sybana growing up with that hanging over them.
He couldn’t fix any of that.
But he could at least show up looking like he took it seriously.
He wiped his hands on a towel and picked up one of the bottles he’d liberated from his father’s dresser. The glass was heavy and cool in his palm, etched with tiny Harper-blue vines around the neck. It _looked_ fancy, at least.
He sniffed cautiously.
Cedar. Warm, clean. Not too strong.
He dabbed a little on his wrist, then rubbed it against the other. The scent bloomed faintly in the air. Hopefully it meshed well with the spicy scent in his hair. Made a nice, manly smell. Was it a manly smell? What made a manly smell? He'd never received any complaints before, but he'd never tried just this hard, either.
His gaze drifted back to the mirror. For a moment he just stared at himself.
He reached for another bottle from the little lineup he’d assembled beside the basin, turning it over to read the label. He was carefully measuring out just enough moisturizer to combat the dry cold outside when he heard a faint noise somewhere further inside the weyr. He looked back into the mirror and nearly leapt out of his skin when he saw M'thos' reflection behind him.
Varethos tried for dignity.
“Hi.”
M'thos’ gaze traveled slowly from his carefully tousled hair to the nice shirt, to the stolen bottles, then back up again.
“…You look nice.”
That was worse somehow.
“Thanks.”
A pause stretched.
"Do you not have this stuff at your place?" M'thos asked.
"...I do. Not as nice."
M'thos made a vaguely agreeable noise in the back of his throat. "For…Zaphare?"
The young adult urge to try and feign nonchalance was strong, even if just to try and protect his partners, but it was too late for that. He was already caught trying too hard. And it wasn't like his dad didn't know about his sort-of relationship with Zaphare.
"...yes."
"So, it's getting serious?"
Varethos didn't really know how to answer that. He knew that he wasn't her only partner, and she wasn't his. They had been hot and heavy for a while before her weyrling training, and aside from a few instances of jealousy that had been frankly hot at the time and this recommendation that he was 'the best' to Sybana, he hadn't given a deeper relationship that much thought. Zaphare didn't seem interested in tying herself down, though he didn't really know much about this relationship between her and Sybana and what that meant for all three of them.
If Sybana was trying hard to keep this all secret, though, he didn't think she'd appreciate him telling his father that was also her _weyrlingmaster_.
"...I don't think so." He managed so casually instead. "I just wanted to dress up nice tonight."
"Ah. For no reason?"
"Nope. No reason at all."
M'thos looked skeptical. Varethos tried to keep his face neutral and so nonchalant.
"...do you think Fianwyth would take me?"
M'thos' eyes took on that faraway expression he had when he conversed with his dragon. Annoying. It took far too long for just a simple question, and Varethos was certain they were gossiping about him instead. The stupid grin tugging at his father's mouth made it even worse.
"You'll have to ask her, but I'm sure she would. You're her favorite." M'thos finally said.
"Mmhmm." Varethos said with typical disbelief. They _had_ been gossiping. "She says that about all the kids."
"Mmhmm." M'thos echoed. "Have fun."
Varethos gave him one last suspicious look, then reached for his jacket and slipped it on. M'thos stepped back to let the poor boy escape from the bathing room and out towards the ledge to the relative safety of a silent (but amused) green dragon.
**I don't know how I feel about this relationship.**
}: You did a great job hiding that. :{
Last updated on the April 1st 2026