Doing Nothing for a Day [Symlet]

[Avu]

T’rid was hungry. He shouldn’t have been surprised, as so far, he’d gone without eating for roughly an entire day, but he didn’t want to be hungry. He wanted to just lie there, staring at the ceiling, ignoring Corinth, and doing nothing. ‘Hunger’ was not an option, and yet it was gnawing at his stomach relentlessly. “Go away,” he mouthed at his stomach, eyes still closed in a futile attempt to keep his appearance as ‘dead.’ His stomach refused, uttering a low growl.

Oh, that was just not fair. The Bronzerider scowled miserably, opening his eyes and pushing himself up with a ragged sigh. Oh. The hunger was worse than he’d anticipated, and a dizzy feeling ran over him at leisure, slipping down his spine. How wonderful…he sighed, mentally calling for Corinth to take him to get some food. He didn’t think he could manage to walk all the way down there…all alone. All dizzy. All hungry and sick and sleepy and…

I’m coming, said the bronze. Why ’re you so mad, anyway? he added, as he dropped onto the Weyr ledge, peering into the room at T’rid, who stifled another yawn, dragging himself up and towards Corinth. “I’m not mad,” he said out loud. “I’m just determined to do nothing.” He didn’t really have a reason for not wanting to do anything—he was mainly doing it because he had no reason to do anything else.

Dragging himself onto Corinth, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes as the bronze dropped from the Weyr ledge, unfurling his wings and then heading towards the Main Hall. He really didn’t want T’rid to accidentally loose them between in such a befuddled state. Landing a few minutes later, he watched the Bronzerider walk inside, reasonably straight-backed, without any sign of the nausea that he felt. Corinth sighed. Don’t hurt yourself, he warned. I won’t.

Instead of his normal seat in the open, T’rid claimed a seat tucked carefully into one corner, his hazel eyes still refusing to open entirely as he sent a Drudge for klah. As he waited for its return, he sighed. There was really no reason why he felt so slow and sluggish today of all days. He just didn’t have the motivation to do anything…anything at all. At first, Corinth had tried to help, but the Bronzerider had rejected it. Right now, he just needed something to do that wouldn’t loose his interest after the first five seconds.

[glamourie]

Juliya lounged. Some people sat, some perched, some squatted; Juliya lounged. Selenitas was so much more laid back than she was used to and in the time she'd been there, she had developed more than her share of quirks. Being able to relax without fear of repercussion was a delightful sensation that she basked in every chance she got. Thus when she sat down she sprawled, stretching her arms high above her head, her legs out as far in front of her as she could (short of kicking someone) and then half-sprawled over the tables when she waited for whatever she happened to be in need of; be it food, drink, or if she was alone, simply time to herself. That particular day she was waiting for klah and she made herself more than comfortable, arms propped up on the table, chin resting on her hands as one of the drudges hurried off to help her. It was strange, the difference in how quickly people moved to help at Selenitas. They worked quickly but straight-backed and proud. The change was definitely nice.

Don't hurt yourself.

That voice belonged to Corinth, Juliya knew, and she quirked her eyebrows up, listening more intently. She'd taught herself to ignore the idle chatter of most dragons - but she couldn't block out a lot of talking. The closer it was, the harder to block out, and she had a great deal of trouble tuning out the voices she didn't hear that often. Since she did not spend very much time around T'rid or Corinth, his was an unfamiliar one, but not unpleasant. She cocked her head to the side, then turned and looked over her shoulder as T'rid entered the main hall and... wandered to the corner? Was that normal behavior for a wingsecond? She raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask, as her klah arrived and the drudge scurried off to help the bronzerider. As the lady passed, Juliya stopped her by grabbing her wrist and leaned over to whisper so as not to be heard by anyone else.

"What did he ask for?"
"Klah, greenrider, same as you. Why?"
"I'll take mine to him - he seems kind of down. Can you bring me some more? And some fruit?"
"All right."

Juliya watched the woman scatter back toward the kitchens and then stood, a ruffle of fabric. She threw her long brown hair over her shoulder and then wound her hands around her mug before turning and walking right across the main hall. A feeling of instant regret filled her, but she didn't hesitate as she stopped in front of the bronzerider's table. He didn't look northern. In her experience, T'rid didn't act overly northern. That meant he wasn't that likely to be a threat. At least, she hoped not. Bronzeriders in her experience were dangerous, even the ones who looked as if someone had taken their toys away from them a little too early, as the closed-eyed wingsecond before her did. She put her mug of klah (untouched) down on the table and nudged it over toward him, for T'rid to take, and frowned slowly. "You look like you've caught your death, wingsecond, all respect meant. Are you all right?"

[Avu]

He had been waiting and waiting, and yet his klah had yet to arrive. T’rid sighed impatiently, tapping his fingers as he stared at the table, concentrating on nothing at all. Not ‘nothing’ as in between-nothing, just nothing. Nothing at all. Corinth kind of snorted in his mind, and shifted uneasily, but didn’t say anything. He’d been trying all day, and the only answer the bronze had gotten was a blank silence, occasionally, if he was lucky, a snort. But that was it.

A shadow fell over T’rid, who assumed it was the Drudge—that was quick. He didn’t look up, although as the mug of klah was slid towards him, he took it gratefully, mumbling an almost indiscernible “thanks” before he drank deeply. Do you feel better? Corinth asked anxiously, and T’rid finally pushed himself to answer. Um. Yes…? Good.

It was then that he realized that whoever had given him the klah was still there. Unmoved. “You look like you’ve caught your death, wingsecond, all respect meant. Are you all right?” Did Drudges usually care about him? Not particularly, as his sarcasm wasn’t exactly inviting. T’rid sighed, raising his eyes, and they automatically sought the place where knots would be worn—and to his slight surprise, found them. Most Drudges—well, he wasn’t exactly sure if they just weren’t given knots, but he had yet to see a Drudge wearing knots. Oh, thinking hurt.

Oh. She wasn’t a Drudge. A Greenrider. The Bronzerider shrugged, running his hand through his hair. “No offense taken,” he said, for once honestly. He was too tired to take any offense at time being, because offense always led to a squabble or a fight and he didn’t have enough energy or will to partake in either. You love to squabble, Corinth said reproachfully. How dare his Rider not be himself?

“Umm.” T’rid considered the question as he closed his fingers almost defensively around the klah. “Yes…no…I don’t know,” he answered, confused. Was he all right? Well, he wasn’t hurt or sick. Just lethargic and sluggish and unwilling to move…but did that make him not all right? He tilted his head slightly, unconsciously, still thinking about it. “I’m fine physically,” T’rid offered finally, content it was a sound answer.

What’s wrong with you? Corinth asked, his mind voice now slightly frantic. Where was the sarcasm? The arrogance? The sharp cutting mocking coldness? It wasn’t just gone? The bronze’s voice pricked a bit of guilt in T’rid. I’m all right, Corinth…don’t worry…I’m just…tired. Yes. Tired. Tired was a good excuse. Tired was an excuse he could always, always use, and nobody would care because people were always tired…right?

Waspishly, the bronze hissed. You’ve been lying around all day, doing nothing! Do something!

[glamourie]

The biggest problem with being able to hear all dragons was that, simply put, she felt like an eavesdropper. There was no way around it. She always overheard private conversations when she was nearby. Some dragons had learned that she could hear them and would be more secretive; they could prevent her from hearing if they wanted to. Most didn't. As far as Juliya knew, Corinth was unaware of her ability. She'd never spoken to him as she had no reason to do so. She didn't talk to bronzes if she could help it because they tended to intimidate her; she was Fort-bred and that meant bronzes were usually bad news. Salenth and Ciceroth were exceptions, both of whom had been at Fort at one time. Salenth she liked well enough... but she tried not to talk to him anymore. Ciceroth was extraordinarily nice.. but he never spoke back. They were the only bronzes she'd addressed, and she was not apt to make a change. So she listened to one side of a conversation, and felt as if she was invading personal space. She kept her opinions to herself and gazed down at the obviously confused bronzerider in thought.

Juliya quirked an eyebrow at the answer T'rid offered, and smiled slightly before plopping down in the chair next to him, rather than across from. It was probably a slight invasion of personal space, but she was trying to get better about not being so easily spooked. Since he didn't seem eager to go for her throat, she decided that meant she was okay to talk to him, and tried to make herself forget that the boy in front of her (he was barely a man at all, at least in age) was, in fact, a bronzerider and a wingsecond. She pushed the fact that he ranked her in every way out of her mind. If she could forget, maybe she could talk to him normally. She had no problem being polite and formal to bronzeriders, but she always treated them... distantly. She recognized the flaw, and Juliya did try to fix those traits if she could help it. She did.

"Then what's the problem?" she said softly, turning her head to the side to get a look at his face. Her own remained a playful smile, meant to encourage. She didn't know T'rid at all, but Juliya was fairly good at appearing at least moderately easy-going. She'd been told she was easy to talk to but she didn't know; she never spoke to herself. Hmm. She decided to try anyway, offering with an undeniably jovial tone, "Tell me? Maybe I can help. If not, I can always help you plot the demise of whatever or whoever is causing it. That's always fun."

You might be less pushy, Juliyalove, Eriannath commented to her rider, from where she was sprawled out on the sunning sands near the river. Or you could just stuff him full of food. That always makes me happier. But then, Eriannath liked to eat. It was a wonder she wasn't pudgy with how often she wanted to frequent the feeding grounds.

The green's timing could not have been better, for the drudge Juliya had asked for food arrived and pushed her cup of klah to her, along with the skin she'd brought. A bowl was set on the table, filled with a few fruits and a small bread roll, and she bobbed her head politely to both Juliya and T'rid before leaving. The greenrider watched her go before pushing the bowl toward T'rid and indicating one of the redfruits with her index finger; she never quite touched it, as some people were excessively picky on who they allowed to handle their food. She had enough respect for other human beings that she did her best not to be inconsiderate of their preferences on most fronts.

"Eriannath says I should stuff you with food; that it makes her happier." She assumed if he wasn't okay emotionally, it was depression. Considering all that had happened at Selenitas, she couldn't have blamed the boy if he was down. "I think you're capable of deciding what to eat yourself, though. You look a bit pale - you should eat some."

[Avu]

She didn’t say anything in response to T’rid’s confusion, which was probably good because it would end up making him even more confused than ever. His stomach threatened, and he stifled it with another gulp of klah, wondering what to do or say. And then Juliya sat down next to him, which was surprising. Did she mean to stay? Well, fine. Maybe he could amuse her for a bit. As long as you promise to oil me afterwards, Corinth said in mock-stern tones, relieved when a faint grin stretched T’rid’s mouth.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to do something. His stomach, for one, felt better.

“Then what’s the problem? Tell me? Maybe I can help. If not, I can always help you plot the demise of whatever or whoever is causing it. That’s always fun.” Well, yes, plotting downfalls did make T’rid cheer up most of the time—not to mention that he was quite good at it. But he doubted that Juliya could help, since he didn’t even know why he felt sluggish today.

Emotionally, he felt fine. No mood swings. No suicidal or homicidal desires. He was just…bored. Bored beyond moving. That probably wasn’t the answer she’d be expecting, but at least maybe she could be shaken up a bit. Maybe. It was a rather big ‘maybe,’ as she had already succeeded in surprising him by even coming over to see if he was dead or not in the first place. Don’t be silly, Corinth protested, relieved that T’rid had stopped blocking him out. It made the already protective bronze positively frantic when he was blocked out.

“I’m bored.” Finally, the words got out. T’rid had been turning them over and over in his head, trying to make them sound more dramatic or something. Nothing came. So, two simple words. “I’m just…bored out of my mind.” There was nothing to do…actually, he could probably set himself to chores if he was that desperate, but he preferred to be depressed and do nothing as opposed to put himself to task. That would have to be stupid. “There’s nothing to do except oil Corinth, wash him, lie around, eat, and there’s only so many times you can do things in one sevenday before it goes stale.”

He fell silent as the Drudge approached. No need to make her loose her probably vivid imaginings of the other reasons he was ‘down.’ She probably figured that he’d a) lost a Flight; b) done something stupid and almost killed someone; c) hurt his dragon; d) something else exciting. No, there was no need to deprive her of such imaginings.

As she pointed to the redfruit, he considered it briefly. The sharp gnawing of his stomach convinced him to release his klah and pick up the fruit, turning it over in his hand as he listened briefly to her speak. “Eriannath might be right, then,” he responded. He was trying to perk up. It was half-working…at least talking to someone you didn’t know well would make life a bit more interesting.

So, um. What was her name? T’rid considered, rooting through his memories. He’d probably crossed her in the halls or corridors without knowing it, but other than that he was completely clueless. Hmm. Corinth? The bronze was delighted to be finally acknowledged by T’rid. Yes? Eriannath of…? he pressed. …Eriannath of Juliya? Thanks. I think. The bronze rumbled in amusement.

“Um, I’m T’rid—of Corinth,” he added, realizing he’d forgotten to introduce himself as well. He took a bite of fruit, so she couldn’t berate him for not doing it, and then went on after swallowing. “Corinth tells me you’re Juliya?”

[glamourie]

He wasn't going to send her away, from the looks of things, and Juliya smiled slightly before pulling the mug of klah the drudge brought her over to herself. Her hands folded around it and she brought it up to her lips, taking a slight sip. Mm. The greenrider cocked her head to the side, her smile widening at his revelation. Bored. The bronzerider was bored. She could think of a few things to entertain oneself with but Juliya was an expert at keeping busy. Most of what he seemed to have a problem with was repetition. She could relate to that. Juliya wasn't a creature who enjoyed things repeating themselves over and over again; that was why she made a habit of doing everything out of order in an organized fashion. It worked for her, but then, she preferred what most people deemed boring -- compared to the north, Selenitas was a holiday, and she was finally coming off the constant worry that someone would be sent to fetch and kill her. Hmm.

The fact that he didn't know her name amused her, and she reached out to Corinth - almost hesitantly, as if she was worried the bronze would be offended. Some were. Is he usually this bad at remembering names, or am I simply special? It was teasing, and with an undeniably amused lilt; she did not know if Corinth would respond or not, but she couldn't resist commenting. Since the words were meant for him, she simply said it directly. Eriannath could have relayed, but... why bother?

"Juliya of Green Eriannath. She's lounging on the sunning sands and informs me they're exceptionally warm today, if Corinth is bored," Juliya said with a wry grin. "But she's likely to get agitated if he casts a shadow over her - she's quite fond of her warmth, silly creature. I know who you are, wingsecond - I make a point to remember all ranking riders. It's nice to know you've manners though." She would have offered to shake his hand, but he was busy eating and she didn't want to stop him. "Bored, you say you are. Hm, what to do to remedy that?" She scrunched up her nose slightly, running options through her mind. Most were pushed aside - he was like a child, so that eliminated the usual way of relieving boredom. Hm, indeed.

An idea occurred to her, and Juliya put her mug down before half leaning over the table, brown hair falling over her face, a wicked grin coming over her features. "Well, what shall we do to remedy that boredom? Are you seeking active entertainment or something to pass the time? I'd offer to hop onto the table and sing but I'm rather poor at it. We could arm wrestle if you don't mind the risk of being beaten by a woman." She was just trying to be funny, honestly. Making conversation. She didn't expect T'rid to actually follow through on that suggestion, though she'd happily beat him at armwrestling if he wanted to. (She wasn't entirely sure she could but she wasn't above stepping on his foot if he started to win.) "After you finish eating, that is - would want to make sure you've got your strength up, right?"

[Avu]

The way she considered him was slightly startling. So he was bored. T’rid had expected her to laugh at him for a bit and then walk away. Or lecture him about how dragon care was never boring and so exciting and how he shouldn’t complain. Or something else like that. You’re usually quite good at not complaining, don’t worry, Corinth assured him, a note of amusement in his tone at his Rider’s rather sour thoughts. Besides, he had no reason to be grumpy. She was actually considering helping him, wasn’t she?

Corinth fell silent briefly at the foreign touch to his mind, as if considering the weight and meaning of the words as well as who spoke them. Bad at remembering names? T’rid? I think he makes it a point to forget Riders names, the bronze finally decided, But he can probably name every dragon in the Weyr by sight. He was already resigned to having to make sure T’rid didn’t blurt out the wrong name, so he didn’t think much of it. But of course, he added, amusement now lacing his tones, He does remember certain names…if he didn’t, he might be cast out from the Weyr.

T’rid shrugged, mentally questioning Corinth. The bronze didn’t reply, only sent a feeling of irritation at T’rid. He knew enough to figure out what that meant. “Corinth’s probably had quite enough fun making fun of me while I’ve been doing nothing to last him at least two more sevendays,” he returned and the bronze sent him a stronger feeling of irritation. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t translated accurately what he’d thought the bronze meant. He sighed. “Plus, he’s overprotective and apparently doesn’t want me to choke or something while he’s gone.” No irritation, so he’d translated correctly.

Wait. He knew her? T’rid blinked, eloquently displaying his bewilderment. That was a new one. Most people didn’t take care to memorize Wingseconds as well as Wingleaders. Or was it just Bronzeriders? The idea of memorizing either Wingseconds or Bronzeriders made him feel sluggish again, so T’rid dismissed that. Instead of talking, he took another bite of the fruit and then picked up the mug of klah, sipping at that. Eating gave such a nice excuse for not talking.

Her grin made him put down the mug of klah very quickly. Just in case something strange happened and perhaps Juliya decided to nail him with a fruit, or step on his foot, or—something painful that would make him drop the klah and spill it. Corinth, deciding that silence was probably safest, stirred with a tolerantly amused feeling in T’rid’s mind. He returned a sharper irritation. Was it his fault he was paranoid? Too many childhood pranks did that to someone. (Although, of course, it had been him pulling said pranks, not on the receiving end.)

Juliya’s suggestions were…interesting. The Bronzerider blinked at her, and then a wry grin twisted the corner of his lip. “Beaten by a woman, sure…if it makes you feel better, go right ahead thinking that.” She wouldn’t beat him, of course…or would she? He cast her an appraising look. No, he could still beat her. Hopefully. “But I’d rather not embarrass you in front of everyone—so I think I’ll skip on that one.” He caught the subtle suggestion to eat faster and did so, cramming the last of the fruit into his mouth and washing down the remainder of klah.

You should eat more, Corinth said critically. And you should eat some vegetables. The young man picked up another fruit anyways, more resigned about being forced to eat now. It wasn’t so bad—not as boring as lying on his bed doing nothing, and not as bad as forcing his body to move fast when he didn’t want to. Now that would be hard. And painful, too, especially if his body didn’t feel like cooperating.

[glamourie]

Does he? Juliya replied with no small amount of amusement. Well, at least he remembers the proper names. Eriannath just numbers people if she can help it. Person one. Person two. Person three. For the record, T'rid is person thirty-two. Juliya didn't remember every rider's name, either, but she did know all the dragons by heart. She had a reason for that though, far different from the bronzerider's -- she could hear them and it was simply rude to not recognize names to voices. Not that most of the Weyr knew that. In fact, as far as she knew, no riders knew, only dragons, most of whom were blue or green in color. Plus Salenth, Ciceroth, and Corinth. Her secret wouldn't remain a secret for long, though, at the rate she was going, and some part of her longed for that. She didn't want it to be a well-known fact, but keeping something about herself secret out of fear was annoying. She highly doubted that the Weyrwoman was going to attack her in the night for being able to speak to Aslath if she needed to. It wasn't like she had any reason to feel threatened by her at all. ... Shmee wasn't Kamerai.

Corinth was amusing to talk to, too. She didn't regret addressing him, though she wondered, privately, how he felt; some dragons felt it invasive for her to speak to them. Ciceroth never replied. She got the mental cold shoulder from one of the friendliest dragons at Selenitas, although in person he was plenty affectionate and nice to her. She had the distinct feeling he just refused to speak to anyone that wasn't that icy rider of his, and she supposed she could understand that. The best way to find out how Corinth felt though was to ask - and she chose to do exactly that: If it makes you feel awkward for me to speak to you like this, tell me? I mean no offense.

"Choking would be rather embarrassing, but I think I could help you if you decided you were going to gag on the fruit," Juliya commented dryly. "It's good he cares so much. Me, if I refused to eat, Eriannath would just tell me to suit myself and it would serve me right when I became a skinny hag no one wanted to talk to - or fainted in the air. She's very brutally honest with me." That was a partial fib. Eriannath would probably not have commented immediately, but she would have eventually, or she'd have convinced half the amiable greens to talk to Juliya and make her see sense. She was not above seeking help if she was unsuccessful in her own endeavors. Juliya, however, was not prone to self-destructive behavior very often. She ate regularly, exercised regularly, socialized (mostly with people of similar rank to her out of fear; she was still adjusting to Selenitas lifestyle in some ways) and she generally took good care of herself. Eriannath had no reason to ever complain. From the looks of him, the bronzerider probably did most of the time. Or maybe he was just naturally healthy. He looked like he was young enough for that to apply. She squinted slightly before smiling, definitely teasing. "If I had to guess though I'd say you're in relatively little danger of choking, considering you're eating so slow. You're a rarity among males! I'd begun to believe most of your gender just inhale food with their eyes and then move on, it vanishes from in front of them so quickly."

No, as far as Juliya was concerned, he was eating too slowly. Oh, but there was that bronzerider ego she'd expected to prick. She smirked slightly and raised her eyebrows before indicating the fruit. "Oh, now you have to. Eat up, bronzerider; I won't challenge you on an empty stomach and hear complaints about how I took advantage of you in a weakened state. Once you've eaten, we've got to have a go. I'm fairly certain I'll win, if you're up to the challenge." Half-teasing, half-serious, entirely baiting was her tone, and she knew it; still, she couldn't bring herself to let it go, especially since he sounded like he really did think he could win. "I'll even wager to oil Corinth for you if I lose. How's that for stakes? But you have to oil Eriannath if I win. Hm?"

[Avu]

Corinth rumbled in amusement. It seemed T’rid wasn’t the only one with an odd way of remembering names. I don’t plan on passing that on, the bronze stated. He’d probably be angry at not being number one. The mental equivalent of rolling his eyes was passed to Juliya as well. He was well aware that T’rid was an idiot sometimes, but he didn’t mind. Idiots were at least fun to be around, as opposed to human numbwits or icicles. Dragon numbwits were kind of fun to be around—or so Corinth thought they would be if he’d ever met one—as the idea of a dignified dragon rolling around in the dirt giggling madly was rather amusing. Icicles were never fun, though.

He stirred out of his contemplative thoughts and was promptly put back into them as he registered Juliya’s question. Well, she was polite. That made a lovely change. Corinth considered briefly and then responded, I don’t mind. Actually, it’s nice. T’ridmine gets predictable after a while, and I was bored today anyway after watching him do nothing all day. Which was true, although he over-exaggerated subtly. Watching T’rid do nothing had not been boring. It had made him nearly frantic at first, and then it had numbed his mind beyond recognition. But had Juliya thought that it was offensive to him? Of course not! He wasn’t that haughty. Was he?

T’rid resisted the temptation of sticking his tongue out. Decided to choke, no less. “I’m glad you think you can help, but I’m going to pass testing you,” he murmured wryly through the next mouthful of fruit. He couldn’t help being amused at the thought of a dragon ignoring her Rider’s needs, though. “Mm. You make me almost prefer Corinth’s motherly hovering,” he admitted. ‘Almost’ being the key word, of course. Corinth’s “motherliness,” as T’rid teased him, got annoying at times, specifically when he got overly anxious about something T’rid was certain he could do.

He wrinkled his nose indignantly at her comment about his eating speed, though, deliberately making a show of chewing. “Would you prefer me to eat without tasting?” he asked innocently, swallowing. “I’m sure Corinth would prefer I make my appetite—which is mainly nonexistent for time being—known to the entire Weyr.” T’rid did regularly ‘inhale’ his food, but only when he was in a hurry to do something, and occasionally when he was teasing Corinth by making the bronze frantic with worry lest he choke. You’d have thought that what with five Turns of not choking, his worry would ease up some, but no.

The Bronzerider stirred at the challenge in Juliya’s voice. Fine. If she thought he was going to loose so easily, fine. T’rid was sure he was in good shape, what with wing drills, oiling and caring for Corinth, arguing with the bronze—today was not one of his better days, but it wasn’t as if the food hadn’t helped. Come to that, Juliya had probably helped, too, what with her challenge. He grinned recklessly. “You might want to make sure that you’re up to the challenge, not the other way around.” Corinth sighed, tolerantly amused.

The wager was settled in a flash; T’rid crammed the remainder of the fruit into his mouth, wiping his fingers on the napkin and rubbing his right palm on his trousers out of habit. “Hell yes.” Even if he lost, he could oil Erianneth in no time. After all, what was oiling a green when he was used to oiling a huge bronze dragon? That would be no problem—and either way, he wasn’t going to loose. He would win and steal a day without worry about Corinth’s hide cracking or if he should oil it now or later, because it was going to be done for him.

This day was turning very nicely to his advantage.

[glamourie]

Typical man, Juliya teased, with no small amount of amusement in her 'voice'; every male she'd met in her life needed to be number one in every thing. It was really quite ironic, since if she was to be totally on, none of them merited number one in anything for her. But Juliya, like most northerners, distrusted men. It wasn't personal by any means. In the north men were the enemy, for the most part. A handful of decent ones did not by any means make up for the sheer amount of abusive, cruel men in the north; not that it was entirely their fault, given that they were raised that way for the most part, but the distrust of the opposite sex that she harbored lingered well into her time at Selenitas. Just because she could be nice to some - no, most of them - did not mean she was in any hurry to become beyond casual associates, even if her behavior toward T'rid may have suggested otherwise. In all honesty, she was mostly being nice to him because he seemed to need someone or something to entertain him. He truly did look miserable, and that level of restlessness was not normal by any means. Someone else might have suggested seeing a mindhealer, but Juliya had enough brothers to know what a futile suggestion that was to most males. She settled for entertaining him herself. Would it comfort him to know that I am number one to her? It's certainly not personal.

Eriannath was, by most respects, a typical green. She was friendly, she was affectionate, and she had a playful streak. She was not unintelligent but she was not a genius by any means. She remembered Juliya's name but most often referred to her rider simply as mine for sheer laziness sake. Because the green preferred blues for the most part, most of the blueriders had the early numbers; it was easier to remember them than anyone else. Not that she had a particular problem with handsome browns or lovely bronzes either. She wasn't a flirt, but Eriannath wasn't stand-offish intentionally - never was she that.

Predictable? How ... drab. I bet I can make him highly unpredictable, Juliya added playfully. Oh, she wouldn't hurt T'rid or do anything aside from poke his ego. She wasn't that kind of person. But she was betting she could make him flail, either in a slight prod to his pride (all bronzeriders could use their egos popped from time to time), or embarrassment. The question was, how much was she willing to do to a perfect stranger for the sake of entertaining him and his dragon, and would either of them realize her behavior was more for their benefit than her own? Unanswered questions; she would doubtlessly find out soon enough, though. It wasn't as though she had any intentions of walking away. He was entertaining her, too, at least for a little while.

She would have responded to his comment about eating (in her opinion that was one of the most important parts of the day, but Juliya had become quickly infatuated with the quality of the southern continent's food and vegetables), had he not grinned like that at her. Oh, such a typical man. She smirked, unable to help herself. T'rid reminded her vaguely of her younger siblings back at Ista Hold and she deigned to treat him much the same way she did them. He was around the same age as her youngest brother, too... although Jalin would have known better than to ever challenge her to armwrestling, or accept such a challenge. Growing up one of the older girls in a family full of boys had taught her to survive and flourish; boyish habits were not unusual in Juliya growing up and though she had, for the most part, grown out of them, there were some things she would never stop enjoying. Like winning.

"So confident," she teased, smirking. "You want to go now, then, or eat another fruit? I'd hate the excuses." She lifted her right hand and propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin on top of her palm. Ready and waiting. "I have no intentions of losing to you." She decided that yes, if he started to win, she would stomp on his foot. He was the one who failed to lay down the ground rules, after all.

[Avu]

Corinth didn’t answer immediately, considering that. T’rid—typical? Well, perhaps a little bit…not that it was a bad thing, just the truth. I suppose so, he agreed wryly, Although he won’t appreciate you calling him that. The bronze sighed indulgently. T’rid’s quirks, such as assaults on cuteness, dislike of salt—were far from ‘typical,’ but barring that, he could see where that…insight came from. Would you be offended if you weren’t ‘number one’? Like, say, if she’d seen another Candidate before you and decided you were number two, even though you were her mindmate? It was about then that the bronze realized he’d failed to answer the question. Um. He probably…wouldn’t mind as much…? It was rather hard to guess what T’rid was about to do, unfortunately. It made protecting him all the harder.

He stirred in amusement at her comment. Actually, the reason he’s predictable, mostly, is because I know he’s not going to do anything I think he is. He’s a fairly good liar. Corinth spoke in very matter-of-fact tones. He was used to it, it was just another fact of life. Besides, unpredictable can get boring sometimes—you know they’ll try to suicide just to make you hyperventilate sometimes. Now he sounded exasperated—anyone could guess it had happened recently. Not that he’d let T’rid suicide anyway—or, for that matter, let him so much as stub his toe if he could help it. Sometimes he couldn’t, but most of the time he could, and what he could do to make sure his stupid Rider didn’t hurt himself, he would do.

Juliya’s lack of response was amusing in some way, although T’rid couldn’t quite place it. He wasn’t going to push her into a conversation, although he wasn’t quite sure why she’d cut it off so suddenly. Perhaps she couldn’t think of anything to say. Corinth was silent, too—he felt the bronze send him a feeling of smug amusement, but before he could ask what was so funny, he had withdrawn again. Stupid spastic bronze. He never could get a straight answer out of Corinth if the bronze felt like being playful and elusive for whatever reason. I am not. Can I go find some food? I don’t want to see you get beaten. I’m not going to get beaten, thanks. Besides, you just ate; and what’s MORE, stick around. You’re going to be oiled in a bit.

He returned his attention to Juliya, eyes narrowing as he smirked back, calculatingly. “Why wouldn’t I be confident?” he retorted. T’rid wasn’t sexist, but he was sure that he could beat a girl arm-wrestling. Juliya had to be strong from her dragon-riding, but he was strong, too. “Let’s go.” Lifting his right elbow onto the table, he offered her his hand, his smirk still in place. “Your call.” He went on carelessly, “Just because you don’t intend to loose to me doesn’t mean you won’t.”

Oh, Faranth, Corinth sighed, and T’rid got the impression that the bronze would have hidden his eyes if he was with them instead of outside. Thanks for that ringing faith in me, Corinth. You’re betting off oiling duties, and you expect me to have faith in you? T’rid rolled his eyes. You’re big. Oiling takes time. It’s not fun for me, just for you. You don’t care who oils you anyway. A long pause. Then: Do you have a point?

[glamourie]

Juliya got the distinct impression that T'rid, at least from what Corinth was describing, was a very typical teenage male. She did not enlighten the bronze. The fact that the boy clearly did not like being called 'typical' and did not like being anything but number one, as well as was easy to provoke (at least in a playful sense) all lent credence to her theory. Young men were very entertaining individuals if only from the standpoint that it wasn't hard to predict how they would react, no matter how special and spectacular they seemed to think they were (and most of them were quite convinced of their own fabulousness; it was comically endearing at times). Not that she'd have changed a thing about that. There were some parts of growing up that were fun - and pricking the egos of teenage males was one of them. She wasn't a child anymore, though, and her playfulness extended only as far as trying to keep the bronzerider from sulking for very long; she would have otherwise left him alone. Still, it was fascinating that Corinth seemed to think he was so far from average. What was he hiding beneath the typical sulky boy surface? She was intrigued... and slightly amused. Then again, wouldn't his dragon always think he was the best?

I don't think I'd mind if she liked someone else as number one, Juliya deduced, with a few seconds of thought. Her reasoning for that was that she and Eriannath often thought of one another in terms of two parts to one single whole, and in turn, it wouldn't have been an insult for her to like some separate entity the best -- Juliya would always be her other half. Confident was she in the affection her green held for her, fathomless beyond words. Simple terms of endearment did not make or break their connection in any way.

As if I would be so fickle. Eriannath's response was slightly sulky, and no doubt hinting at offense, though in truth she was not that bothered. She was very easy-going most of the time. What did she care, truly, for words? Like Juliya, she was exceptionally comfortable with the connection she and her rider shared. Juliya could talk to any dragon she wanted, but she would always be Eriannath's -- what was there to be unhappy about, knowing that? Besides, it was doubtful Corinth meant offense, and if he had, it wasn't as though she much cared. The wingsecond wasn't a dragon she spent any amount of time conversing with, after all. The situation is not the same, really. Why should your rider take offense that he is not number one to me, when he surely is to you? That is like JuliyaMine taking offense at you not deeming her number one, isn't it? She was confused, and it traced into her voice. Maybe they both can be number one, that way no one is offended.

Temporarily ignoring Eriannath (and Corinth, but not meaning to be rude), Juliya lifted her chin from her hand and reached over to wrap her fingers around the bronzerider's palm, flexing slightly to make sure she had a good grip. Her expression was nothing shy of amused. "We'll see, wingsecond. I'll enjoy watching you oil Eriannath," she teased, smirking; was he one of those riders who did so without his shirt on? If he was, she would enjoy it all the more; he wasn't bad-looking, after all. "Do you want to count it off, or shall I?" It made no difference to her, really, but she hoped he would, since she was moving her right foot on the floor beneath the table. If he was stronger than her, she'd find out just how strong his toes happened to be...

[Avu]

Well, the bronze observed, At least you, unlike Ridmine, don’t seem to constantly explode against Yours. Okay, that was exaggerating, but just a little bit—because T’rid did sometimes…err…‘explode.’ I.e. Get irritated when Corinth forgot to pass on a message, or—well, something along those lines. The bronze got more worried about T’rid when the man was calm and placid as opposed to prone to snapping. It meant he was probably plotting something, and plots meant nothing good.

As Eriannath spoke, Corinth considered and then responded, I wish it could be that simple—but he does have some things in common with a typical person and he does enjoy being ‘number one,’ and special. It’s nothing personal—if he had it his way, every dragon would love him. The bronze rolled his eyes mentally, although his voice was affectionate. T’rid was accepted by him the way damaged goods were accepted by poor Holdless folks—with ill but grateful acceptance. But yes—he is number one to me. And he is satisfied by that—it’s not that he isn’t—but he would like being number one to others as well, you see?

T’rid smirked in reply to Juliya’s smirk. “Keep dreaming,” he said evenly, “Corinth needed to be oiled anyway—spare me the task.” He grasped her hand, adjusting his fingers carefully, placing his elbow in a more strategic position on the table. This was going to be fun. Perhaps not easy—but still fun! At least he could wriggle his way out of doing any chores or oiling Corinth, getting soaked, struggling to peel off his trousers back at the Weyr when they were determined to stick to him—the list went on. Yes, oiling Corinth was a chore he’d gladly pass up. Well, gee, I love you, too, came the sulky reply.

“I’ll count off,” he shrugged. It shouldn’t make much of a difference and dawdling wasn’t going to help. “I hope you’re ready—five.” He paused, weighing down the word. “Four.” Another pause. “Three.” Longer pause. “Two…” And yet another pause. “One—go.” He closed his fist in as hard a grip as he could manage and shoved sideways, the muscles along his arm tightening with effort. Even if she did give up in two seconds, it couldn’t hurt—whereas if she was very strong, it would help. Right? I hope you don’t mind if I support Juliya, Corinth commented cheerfully. Why? T’rid asked, confused.

Because, Ridmine—I want to see ever-so-humble you oiling a green. The bronze snickered. T’rid very seriously considered kicking him after he won the match.

[glamourie]

If Juliya hadn't been quite determined to keep her ability a secret, she probably would have grinned at Corinth's statement. No, she didn't blow up at Eriannath; in fact, she rarely if ever became unhappy with the green. Eriannath saw her through more dark times than Juliya could count, and she understood the concept of gratitude. She couldn't bring herself to be bitter or angry whenever they disagreed -- but Juliya and Eriannath were an exceptionally close pair. Most of the time if Juliya felt strongly about something, Eriannath was swayed in the same direction. It was a perk, to always have someone on her side, always have someone who agreed with her. In fact, if Eriannath ever did disagree, Juliya would probably change her opinion to side with the green, simply because it would strike her as so unusual. No, she kept those feelings to herself. In her opinion, Corinth and T'rid were very, very funny - and cute, by way of their connection to one another. She doubted the bronzerider would like being termed cute.

She was distracted, though, and did not respond to the bronze, as her attention was more focused on his rider. She flexed her fingers slightly and smirked at his obvious confidence. Was he always so stuck on himself? Ooh, how his ego was going to dent when she won. Her expression was nothing shy of resembling a feline who got at cream and anyone who knew her would know to back off, that she was up to something and it couldn't be good. But T'rid didn't know her.

As he counted off, she braced herself and as soon as he said go, she leaned her arm as far to his side of the table as she possibly could. She used the strength of her arm, rather than her wrist, as experience told her that would wear her out easier. Just as she'd expected, though, he was a lot stronger than he looked, and she felt her arm leaning backwards despite herself. Her eyes narrowed slightly as her foot slid slightly under the table, but a surge of strength held their arms in a dead lock. He was stronger than she was by quite a bit, and she had to admit she was a little impressed. Should she kick him? Would it really be cheating? Probably. But he was the one who failed to specify. What, had he thought she'd go in without a game plan? Like she wanted to oil a great big bronze. Not that she had a problem with oiling, but it would be nice to pop the bronzerider's obviously inflated sense of self worth.

Eriannath was quite content to talk to Corinth, and blissfully ignored her rider's strategic planning, replying with an undeniable mirth, He is cute. No, she didn't care that most males did not like being called cute, just as she didn't much care if the bronzerider was distraught at her not thinking him the most amazing individual to ever grace Pern. She crooned, though Corinth surely couldn't hear her, given how far away she was. I think someone should give him a canine. Juliyalove tells me that they are very faithful pets and always think that their masters are the most important people in the world. Maybe one of them would make him quite happy. Her eyes whirled, and she crooned again, pleased at her reasoning. If only her Juliya was listening, she would have made the suggestion to her, but alas, she was quite distracted by the strange and silly bronzerider.

And Juliya was hellbent on winning the armwrestling match. Even if it meant cheating. All at once, she lifted her foot and slammed down on the end of his toe with all of her body weight, before putting every ounce of strength she had into pushing her arm against his. She could already hear the whining that was doubtlessly going to ensue.

[Avu]

Corinth regarded Juliya through T’rid’s mind curiously. The look on her face reminded the bronze curiously of T’rid when he’d thought up an ingenious plot, but he decided not to mention this to T’rid, who was quite busy at time being. The Bronzerider smirked as he felt Juliya’s arm shift backwards, his eyes concentrating on their hands as if by staring alone he could win the arm-wrestling match. The smirk tightened around the corners of his mouth as their hands steadied, ceased moving. He shifted his elbow slightly to a more hospitable position, completely and stupidly oblivious to whatever was happening below the table. Corinth poked at him. Well, this deflates you a bit, does it? the bronze suggested. If you were half as strong as you thought you were, I think you’d have won by now.

T’rid didn’t bother with an articulate reply, as he was still concentrating on winning at time being. Corinth slipped away from him, and responded to Eriannath instead. I’m glad you think so, but I doubt he would be, the bronze commented, amused by the choice of adjectives. T’rid was afraid of cute and fluffy things. To be called cute himself would be unendurable to the Bronzerider. Not that he had anything in particular against cute things—they hadn’t truly harmed him at all—he was just repulsed by them. No, to be called ‘cute’ would probably make T’rid very irritated, if not liable to exploding.

The idea of getting T’rid a canine made Corinth rumble in genuine amusement. Unfortunately, he dislikes ‘cute’ things, the bronze commented. He promised me he’d get two fire lizards instead of a kitten and a fire lizard, he added smugly, But I don’t think he likes fire lizards very much either. The bronze sighed. He so did like fire lizards and kittens and canines, but he had to…accommodate…his Rider and if he were to force a kitten or canine on him, the creature in question would probably not have a very happy life with T’rid, who would undoubtedly ignore them pointedly.

As he felt something change, T’rid’s eyes flickered automatically up from their hands—unfortunately too late. A sharp pain exploded in his foot and he yelped, automatically releasing the muscles in his arm in an attempt to grab his toe and find the cause of the pain. Seeing as Juliya didn’t let go—in fact, she kept pushing—he felt the back of his hand land on the table. At time being, he was a little more preoccupied with his foot, though, and his head dropped to look as he swiveled in his chair, forgetting the arm-wrestling match as he dubiously examined his boot and then tugged at it, wiggling his toes. It hurt.

Corinth was laughing so hard at him that he felt the wild urge to laugh, too. Repressing this, he looked up and realized exactly what had happened. Oh, great. So now we could stomp on our antagonists’ toes in order to make them loose an arm-wrestling match? He sighed, wiggling his fingers to get the feeling back into them; they tingled slightly. “Sorry, when did we agree that if we thought we were loosing, we could stomp on the other person’s foot?” T’rid asked, keeping his tones even and pleasant as he massaged his foot, wincing. Corinth was still laughing fit to burst. Stupid dragon.