1st of Vhalar 722
The Empire waited for no one, and neither did morning drills.
The past five or so trials of Kalif's leave were spent wrapped in the constant company of Lotema. The lion's share of that time spent in his quarters, or else flying around the parapets and vaulted towers of the Aerie, chasing each other like children. He couldn't deny that this was something he'd been missing for much of his life. Not only the physical satisfaction of a female that accepted his embrace, but that he had no need to fight off bigger, stronger, fitter avriel for her affection. There was no need to exemplify all the terror and ferocity that was needed to make up for the size difference between his diminutive form and all of the males he had to compete with in Athart.
Here, there was just them, and Weep to care for every other mundane need. He'd enjoyed his leave from the army more than he cared to admit.
He felt the glossy blue feathers of her wings graze his face, awakening him with the scented oils that covered them. His eyes opened, and he turned to find her asleep, merely tossing in her slumber. It was yet dark out, the suns having fallen for the first time in a season since Saun began, last night. He rose to a sitting position on the bed, and looked at her a few moments. Carefully, lest he disturb her, he slipped next to her, into the embrace of her blue wing, and traced her lips with his fingers. He enjoyed this, as her lips reacted to the touch, smacking and then shutting, her face turning to the side. Every motion she made he drank in.
Yet even as he admired his companion, he knew this couldn't work. Not the way she wanted, probably, or the way he even wanted. His life belonged to Delroth, just as Navyri had warned him. His waking thoughts were consumed with plans and thoughts of vaulting Delroth ever higher in importance in the world. Collecting things for his glory, and making him proud above all. There was hardly room for more than one in any relationship that involved Delroth. Even Kalif someday would disappear in the wake of Delroths' glory. And then there would be only the Winged Calamity.
These somber thoughts prompted him to move out of her orbit. She reached for the empty space where he'd been, but he was already out of reach when her eyes opened. He was part of the way toward the door, slipping on a sleeping robe, when she spoke to him. "Did I give you leave to depart, Kal?" She asked playfully. She did this game, where she played at being in control. He indulged it at turns, at other times turned the tables, just enough to keep her entertained and guessing. But now he was not in the mood for games. He had a serious mind for what the day would bring.
"Leave is over. I'm going to Morq's Aerie, to the south. They'll be going through basic drills for the new recruits." He said, halting for a moment, but then deciding to make no excuses. He stepped toward the door, slowly.
She called again, "Come back, Stalwart 'Elmdor'" He could almost sense her eyes on him, and hear the motions as she stretched on the bed. "We'll rehearse some drills of our own, here." She said, artlessly. Truly she needed to work on her lines. Kal harumphed, and kept on toward the exit to his quarters.
"When you find it in your lazy bones to get out of bed, have Weep attend you. She will bathe and feed you, and find you something suitable to wear."
So saying, he left without giving her a moment to speak, shutting the door behind him. He spent the next few breaks eating, getting ready for the day, and finally having Weep equip him with his armor.
