even the best fall down [s’rei]

[Avu]

You promised me you’d sleep.

And I expect you could sleep if there was someone staring at you? Kyrahth responded testily. The green flared her wings experimentally for what had to be the fiftieth time in as many minutes. The right responded easily, sending green shadows dancing across the stone of the weyr, but the left was still painful when fully extended. Kyrahth pushed it open entirely anyway, and A’emi hummed sympathetically as a twinge of the dragon’s pain made itself felt in a phantom limb. He rolled his shoulders absently; her snappy question went unanswered. It was only not being able to fly that made her temper flare, but Kyrahth had more or less ignored most of the Healers’ orders.

Stay on the ground. That had been torn to pieces when she’d come up to the ‘ledge that had been given (temporarily, in all probability) to A’emi. The greenrider couldn’t sleep without being able to open his eyes and see Kyrahth, and the green’s fuse had been shortened by the constant rustlings and sounds in the Infirmary, so she’d gone between up to the ‘ledge, and used between excessively to catch her own food and take A’emi wherever he wanted to go.

The cuts down her spine had mended, stitches still holding the hide together, but generally unnecessary. Or they would have been unnecessary if Kyrahth hadn’t been as active as she was. Three of the four jagged lines would scar; the fourth had been glancing, and only one of those three would be a prominent scar. The wing was stiff, but operable, and Kyrahth was always, always pushing her limits.

“You stare at me all the time and I can ignore that…” The words were almost musing, A’emi’s gaze flicking around the unfamiliar weyr, empty and dull and blank and alien, unwelcoming and unfriendly. One foot jiggled absently against the floor, before he looked back at Kyrahth, quirking one eyebrow. “Most of the time, anyway.”

/I/ don’t make faces when I stare, dearest. Kyrahth’s voice was vaguely impatient. Surely you have /something/ better to be doing. She stretched on the ‘ledge, keeping her left wing stretched as far open as she could. People to be traumatizing, toys to be played with…? They both knew – it went without saying – that the ‘toys’ that Kyrahth spoke of were not of the inanimate variety, and a corner of A’emi’s lips twitched into a playful smile.

“The way you say it makes it sound like such a bad thing…anyway, no, I don’t, I’m terribly bored. If you’re not going to sleep, can’t you entertain me…?” He pushed himself into a cross-legged position on his bed, leaning forward and propping his elbows onto his knees. “This whole Weyr is boring. I want to do something. Pleaaaase, Kyr…” He wasn’t actually whining yet, but it was a close thing. “Nobody here wants to talk to me, I’m the bad guy. And it’s great if they’re predisposed against me and all, but most people won’t even look at me.” A frown. “Wonder if Ar’ren’s been having quite as much fun?”

Kyrahth closed her wings again, exhaling loudly. Ysaloth’s is unimportant. I am not going to be entertainment. There is no need. There is someone outside.

A’emi shot up like a puppet on strings. “What?”

You should learn how to shut doors properly if you wish company to avoid you, my dearest.

[Requiem]

The bronzerider strode purposefully down...one door from the weyr he'd stolen as his office. Not that A'emi would know that. In fact, few people did. To most it was simply another vacated weyr (he had an office where Weyrleaders traditionally had their offices, after all) but this was the one he retired to when he didn't wish to be disturbed by anyone. If it was important, that's what dragon-to-dragon communication was for. As such, it was no coincidence that A'emi was quartered one room down. (Ar'ren had been far more willing to work with them. He was very devoted to his brown, and the thought that Selenitas healers might not give Ysaloth aid was, apparently, enough to loosen his tongue quite satisfactorily. He was already out from under direct scrutiny; S'rei had little doubt that there would be enough people with their suspicions to keep him in line. He'd made himself known to the largest portion of the Selenitas population, after all.)

The wings were mostly set. Ka'rys's choices...by and large S'rei didn't have a problem with them. Iskierka and Elysia he'd seen firsthand. E'rro he'd suggested himself. Ar'ren would be a good addition so long as he proved loyal - which he might to Ka'rys if not to S'rei. Fort loyalties ran deep in most of the older Fort riders who had spent the majority of their careers pre-R'anatar. Evrgarde he could see, though she didn't quite fit the pattern of the rest of Ka'rys's choices. M'ta S'rei found questionable, but as Ka'rys had worked with him since he joined the wings and S'rei hadn't, he was willing to defer to the other man's judgment. A'emi, though...he wasn't sure he wanted that greenpair involved in anything, much less the mission he'd given Ka'rys. Hm.

The Weyrleader rapped on the door once, but it was merely a courtesy, as he stepped inside immediately afterwards. Privacy was something earned. "A'emi," the man rumbled, in his usual quiet manner. S'rei was rather unassuming in demeanor the vast majority of the time, and his dress reflected that. Casual. No knots. Nothing whatsoever to indicate authority except for the self-assuredness that seemed to radiate from him. That or the gray that had begun to liberally spread from his temples, sweeping back past his ears. Even the short haircut could no longer hide that fact.

Pulling up a chair to the bed, S'rei settled on it, straddling it and leaning his elbows on the back of the chair as he fixed A'emi with a searching look. Then the rather deceptive polite smile touched his lips. He'd given the greenrider a whole sevenday to stew...knowing that most of Selenitas would want to have nothing to do with him. "I've been reorganizing the wings," he commented without preamble. S'rei was often very direct, so long as it suited his purposes. "Your former wingleader has already told us...probably more than you yourself know. He worried for Ysaloth. I have a wingleader who is...willing...to take you, along with Ar'ren." Which said much, because he knew for a fact that S'kor wouldn't...and S'rei himself didn't find A'emi trustworthy in the slightest.

"But I'm not going to give him anyone who I can't trust to operate in Selenitas's best interests. A shame, really. It's a small wing...mostly northern veterans. Fighting wing veterans. A couple of our own who are...unique among southern-hatched dragons. If you won't tell me what we already know, to convince me that you're Selenitas to stay - no, I don't expect your loyalty, but Fort will crucify you if they know you spoke and you attempt to return, which is motivation enough to me to realign your loyalties - then I'm afraid I'll just have to leave you here to rot of boredom." A mild shrug.

[Avu]

Oh, it was a S’rei.

A’emi watched the older man with interest, pulling himself into a more upright position on the bed and crossing his legs. His elbows pressed against his knees, fingers interlacing and used as a rest for his chin. His face had fallen solemn, expression closed; he was fairly certain he knew why S’rei was there. What had taken so long…? He’d been waiting and he’d been so bored. Did Selenitas do torture? Part of A’emi almost hoped so; it would be one-upping this monotony. Unfortunately, he doubted it was true; surely Ar’ren would’ve given him a little warning.

“ – er…?” The noise was involuntary, one eyebrow twitching upwards. He’d begun reorganizing the wings. So…what did that have to do with him…? Oh. Oh. Huh. No wonder they hadn’t been pulling out torture devices; Ar’ren had already spilled. Everything, it seemed. How annoying. He probably would’ve done the same for Kyrahth, but they hadn’t asked; they’d just swept her off to the Infirmary and A’emi had just kind of trailed behind, bemused. Still, what little description he did get of the wing in question made his attention prick, and A’emi leaned forward slightly before a wry smile crossed his face.

“So it’s basically spill or go into boredom-induced coma,” he commented dryly; it wasn’t a question and he turned his gaze on Kyrahth, pretending to think about it. In all honesty, A’emi didn’t think there was anything to think about. He’d stuck around at Fort for lack of better options, not because he was a fanatic Fort loyalist, and if Ar’ren had already blabbed (and he suspected the man really had; stupid Ysaloth, getting shredded like that) then he wouldn’t be telling them anything new. Or maybe he would. Depended whether or not Ar’ren had lied. Also depended on how much, exactly, was ‘more than he knew’, because A’emi did know a lot.

Whatever. They weren’t his secrets to keep, anyway.

“So, S’rei – am I allowed to call you that, or should I be all formal? – Faranth forbid I rot of boredom for the rest of my life. Where should I begin? And – before I do…” His eyes narrowed slightly, the greenrider leaning back and pressing his hands onto the bed behind him to support his weight. “If our stories don’t match up, if one of us is lying…who’re you gonna believe, me or him?” He was fairly certain that the truthful answer (though whether or not the Weyrleader would admit it, A’emi wasn’t sure) would be that they’d believe Ar’ren. More reason not to lie, the brownrider had had. And he did intend to tell the truth, but…it was still a question he wanted to ask.

[Requiem]

He summed it up rather nicely, the ex-Fort greenrider. Had S'rei any interest in forcing information from anyone, he likely would have gotten Ka'rys to do it. Purely logical. The man had once headed up the interrogators at Fort, who were the best of any on Pern. (To be perfectly honest, however, S'rei didn't find torture to be a particularly useful tool, aside from using it as a preventative measure. Push someone far enough - scare them enough, hurt them enough - and they'd tell you whatever they thought you wanted to hear, whether it was true or not. Highly unreliable.) Yes, he found it better to find other means of persuasion. Like boredom. Most dragonriders didn't handle being cooped up well; it was an active lifestyle, breeding active people.

Merely nodding at the question regarding his name - S'rei wasn't much for titles - a brow rose mildly in silent encouragement to continue with whatever line of thought A'emi had started upon. He let his head rest on his hands, eyes half-lidding as he considered the question the other man asked him. "My first inclination would be to believe Ar'ren," he responded after a moment. "Stronger motivation, less time to form fabrications." An honest answer, but he also didn't believe in leaving replies incomplete. If he wanted A'emi to speak to him, he had to offer something in return...that was how these things worked, right? "However the person I'm most likely to believe is the one who told me things that match up with what happened." A mild shrug. If either of them expected him to accept anything on faith alone, they were crazy. S'rei was very much an analytical person, even if he didn't make a habit of showing it.

Trusting that this was answer enough, he twined his fingers together. "Okay, let's start simple. Clearly you came for the High Reaches riders." And Sel'n, but they'd get to that later. "I have little doubt that they told the truth when they said Fort came to wipe them off the map. Say they're defectors all you want; there's no way Fort didn't know they were there for quite some time. So what prompted the sudden annihilation...what was so important that you'd chase the handful of survivors halfway across the planet just to finish the job?"

[Avu]

Ar’ren. Right. Sigh. If only there’d been no Ar’ren; if only he’d been the only one that had been left behind. He was fairly certain he could spin a decent yarn, A’emi was. Too bad the truth always, always, matched up better than lies, however well crafted. A’emi gave a slight, thoughtful noise in the back of his throat in response to the bronzerider’s words, before he sat upright again, preparing for the story that he’d almost definitely be telling. If he had to tell it, he was definitely going to enjoy the telling of it. A pity S’rei already knew the ending (didn’t they all?); that ruined it all – but that was okay, okay; he could work around that~

“You could’ve just said, ‘start at the beginning’,” the greenrider commented, playfully, as he crinkled his nose slightly, thinking. “Okay, I’ve got it, kind of? It goes like this…” He shifted slightly backwards on the bed before he began to speak again, voice automatically adopting the lilting singsong quality of a storyteller. “So once upon a time, there’s this Wingleader, and he’s like – like, I don’t know, the – ideal bronzerider? He’s in his early thirties or something, and he’s tall and everyone obeys him and respects him mostly and he’s just great. So then he gets himself gutted, practically, in this aerial battle.” A’emi always spoke with his hands, and this was no exception; the greenrider sat up a little straighter, running one finger lightly down his own abdomen for illustration.

“And his bronze barely got him back to the Weyr. He was practically dead, but he was like, a great Wingleader, so the Healers tried, and right before he died, someone else died, too, and the organs that he needed, or something, to live, that other person had them intact and all. So I guess it started then, and the Healers got this – burst of inspiration?” One hand flicked towards the sky, as if the ceiling were responsible for said inspiration burst. “So they’re like, what if he could’ve gotten that guy’s insides and lived? So they started experimenting. Usually with people who were gonna die anyway and prisoners of war and stuff.” His hands drew the same absentminded line down the center of his abdomen.

“But we don’t often get Benden people dropping by for a cup of tea,” and one hand made a spiraling gesture mid-air, though what it was to indicate was probably known only to A’emi, “so, you know. We – they, the Healers – needed more people, more bodies to cut open with their little operating knives, since the ones they got hold of just died.” His fingers curled as if grasping said operating knife, and A’emi waved his imaginary knife around in the air as he went on. “So yeah, there wasn’t really any grand conspiracy against Fort or anything, and even R’anatar isn’t bipolar enough to spontaneously want to blow a Weyr off the face of Pern. They were just there. And pretty helpless. It was really easy, in and out, except your seven took off.”

A’emi blinked, tilting his head slightly as he looked at S’rei and smiled, playfully. “So yeah, we went after them ‘cause we couldn’t afford to have them running here – which they did, and which we failed, but it was mostly because we didn’t want them warning y’all down here about it. I mean, yeah, that’s a lot of bodies and a lot of organs or brains or whatever it is they’re after, but after they’re gone…” The words trailed off, deliberately, and A’emi dropped his hands to his lap, flashing another pleasant smile. “Detailed enough? What next?”

[Requiem]

A brow rose as A'emi began, spinning it like some sort of bedside story - and perhaps it was, at Fort. There had been stranger things to happen. The bronzerider listened in silence, the mild upturn to his lips that wasn't quite a smirk but still was more of a default expression than anything remotely genuine remained in place throughout the telling. Detailed enough? S'rei nodded in silence. "The way you speak," he commented quietly, "makes it sound as if Fort took High Reaches Weyr to be its own personal organ farm. There aren't enough healers to manage that much dead. Surely I just...misunderstand...your meaning." Surely A'emi was attempting to feed him bull, actually, but that was fine. If he wanted to play that way.

"Keep what from us?" he questioned. "That you'd attacked them? Because we'd do what then...come to Fort Weyr and nip at your heels? State how very disappointed we were in you for using a bunch of druggies to play mad surgeon on? Perhaps I've been away from the south too long, but last I checked we don't get teary-eyed over cutting into corpses. You may want to try again, greenrider." Yes, he may well want to try again. S'rei wasn't a child, to take something at face value merely because it was shocking. (Which it wasn't. He had already spoken to Ar'ren.)

Before A'emi could try another tact, however, he held up a hand. "On second thought, I rather resent your wasting my time. So let's just move on. What really compelled you to follow the High Reaches riders to Selenitas - what information did they have that could make Fort that nervous? Why did you want Sel'n as well? When he disappeared...was it to play your little games? Because yes, I could see us getting a little upset about using live people for your experiments, and we've had a very large number go mysteriously missing for quite some time now. Maybe that's something you could enlighten me on. Or you can conveniently leave out details to twist it again if you want - no skin off my back. I'm not the one stuck here. You've enjoyed relative freedom, A'emi, but it doesn't have to stay that way."

[Avu]

Now that wasn’t fair. He’d answered S’rei’s questions – skipped around most everything else, true, left things intentionally hanging and vague, but he’d still answered them. Pfft. Silly bronzerider, didn’t understand the concept of telling a story. A faint frown of mock disapproval creased the greenrider’s chin, pulling the corners of his lips into a somewhat more somber set. He leaned forward, pale blue eyes solemn on S’rei’s face, and his head tilted to one side slightly. “I’m trying to tell you, you know,” he commented softly. “Haven’t you ever heard of foreshadowing? Cliffhangers? If I’ve gotta tell the story, figured I might as well actually tell it. Facts are boring; I’m trying to make it something worth paying attention to.”

His nose crinkled before his attitude switched again, the greenrider lounging back onto his bed and peering through half-lidded eyes at S’rei. “We followed them because we didn’t want ‘em warning y’all about what had happened,” he said, repeating his previous words. “’Cause then some genius down here might figure out that High Reaches wasn’t our only ‘personal organ farm’, get it now? Selenitas was a great one, too, I expect. Rookies got sent down here, little missions to make ‘em feel important. Come down here, scout the perimeter, if you see any idiot wandering around, kill them and bring them back to Fort for the Healers. Later it started being more like, incapacitate them and bring them down, ‘cause apparently dead organs don’t work too well.”

He shrugged, raising one finger peremptorily to keep S’rei from interrupting – bronzeriders would do that, he thought absently, interrupt – “Figure that’s how your Weyrlingmaster ended up down there, or something like that, and luckily for him, ended up being the one who wasn’t killed for organs. Guess they ran out of almost-dead people, I don’t know. Thing is, though, he lived. Shocker, I know, but yeah.” His eyes had fallen shut, though he continued to talk. “So they stitched him up and I’m not really clear on what happened then. Maybe they didn’t know what the hell to do with a living person after having so many dead people, or something. Figures Healers wouldn’t have the first idea about someone who survived. Anyway, either he got away or they sent him away, but yeah.”

A’emi sat up abruptly, eyes flicking towards S’rei before he smiled, pleasantly. “Then they were like, ‘Oh scorch it, we need him, why did he live?’ because all of their other patients? They kept dying; he was the only one to live. So I guess he might’ve spilled, but since people kept getting plucked out of Selenitas skies, we kept taking ‘em.” One hand rose languidly to make a little grabbing gesture for illustration. “So yeah. Epic battle, epic fail on our part, landed us here. What next? See – I’m trying, at least let me have some fun while I’m doing it.”

Believe it or not, love my dearest, I don’t believe how much fun you have is really on his list of Things to Care About, Kyrahth commented sweetly. Do have your fun at a /safe/ level. Entertainment he may be, but he’s not a /toy/.

[Requiem]

He listened utterly placidly, a quiet, almost fascinated expression on his face. Was he fascinated by the story? Hardly. He'd heard it before, and what he hadn't heard he'd pieced together. This was solely an opportunity to take the measure of the greenrider in front of him, give him one more chance to actually, maybe, possibly impress the bronzerider enough that he didn't feel like shoving him in a dark hole in the ground somewhere and leaving him there until he starved to death. And no, that wasn't a matter of his not wanting to kill A'emi directly - he actually preferred the idea of the Fort rider wasting away. Wouldn't Selenitas be surprised to know the thoughts of their Weyrleader, hm? He was a very possessive man, S'rei was, and Ar'ren was tolerated on some level because he couldn't go back and knew it and was adjusting to that. A rider who had no remorse, and worse, was too stupid to know when he was pushing too far and had no cards to play? Couldn't even be bothered to play the game, this one. Well, here was A'emi's chance to prove otherwise.

And yes, how the greenrider was using that chance was very fascinating to the northern-trained bronzerider. Was this the sort of person Fort turned out under R'anatar?

"Fun..." He cocked his head to one side, settling his weight more firmly on the chair. "I'm curious what your idea of fun is, actually. Personally, I wouldn't find being stuck here mostly alone all that fun. Yet you're acting like that's what you want. This interests me. Almost enough to send for a mindhealer, but, eh, she's just too bouncy for me, you know? Feel like bouncing her right off the weyrledge and seeing if she bounces as well off the rocks."

The chair suddenly slid forward, hands grasping the edges as he flung it just to the right of A'emi's head, close enough that if he so much as twitched in the wrong direction it would clip him and likely knock him loopy for at least a couple minutes. But that wasn't the purpose of the flying furniture. Oh, no. The tall bronzerider had three things going for him right about now. First, A'emi was in a reclining position. Second, chairs going past your head were extremely distracting. Third, S'rei moved much faster than people his size were expected to move. He had the greenrider under the arm in an instant, levering him up and flinging the slight man at the wall on the other side of the bed with no small amount of force, springing down and stepping on the wrist closest to him before he crouched over the greenrider.

A slow smile touched his lips. "Just thought I'd show you my own little version of fun, since we're on the subject." He stroked a hand through the blonde hair, waiting for the eyes to focus on him. "Your people stole my riders. You personally invaded my weyr with your wing. Fought our riders. Probably killed a few people, but even if you didn't, you intended to. I'm not in much of a story-telling mood, or even a merciful one. So cut the frills. I'm going to ask you a couple questions, and you're going to give me succinct, factual answers. Understand the rules?" He waited for a moment. "Did you attack High Reaches because a Fort rider defected there? Were your orders to get information from our healers and kill them regardless of whether Selenitas complied or not?"

[Avu]

Okay, so maybe he was being irritating. Part of A’emi knew that he was, but another part of him couldn’t care. Selenitas was so…so slow, and he wanted to go back to Fort and sharding – so yes, when he was annoyed, he got annoying. Cause and effect. Most of the time he had the brain-mouth filter necessary to keep it from showing, but eh…Selenitas wasn’t a place he associated with order, generally speaking. Apparently that was wrong, though; he’d forgotten that some lovely Northerners went south. He gazed through half-closed eyes at S’rei as the bronzerider spoke, only half-paying attention to what he was saying; he didn’t care about some Mindhealer and –

Well, hello, chair.

A’emi’s eyes widened, but the greenrider didn’t move; if anything, he sank back deeper against the bed. Except the bed was not there anymore. Stupid bed, why was it hopping out from under him? Kyrahth’s low growl of fury sounded in his mind as he instinctively twisted away from the wall (inanimate objects here, really – he liked Fort’s inanimate objects so much better. Actually, he just liked Fort better, period). The soft hiss of pain couldn’t be stopped from sliding through clenched teeth as his right elbow and back made contact with the wall, but the greenrider didn’t linger on the pain; he appraised the foot planted on his wrist, inhaling softly to quench the rush of adrenaline.

The eyes that turned eventually up to S’rei had pupils that had contracted, the greenrider repressing an actual smile with effort and keeping his features blank instead. The sting of pain in elbow and back (they would probably bruise, but little else) – it actually excited him, and A’emi almost wanted to push it, see what else the larger man would do – but Kyrahth’s sibilant hissing in the back of his mind (fortunately mental only; the green wasn’t stupid enough to take a snap at the Weyrleader, even if she could stick her head into the weyr proper) made him hesitate.

Calm, darling heart, he crooned to her mentally. Don’t strain your wing.
Calm, my dearest, she mimicked, cruel in her anxiety. Don’t get yourself killed. I hear it’s bad for you.

A’emi blinked at S’rei’s questions. Er, what? “If we did, I wasn’t told,” he responded after a moment of consideration. No single rider was that important, were they? Faranth, a bloody gold had taken off to High Reaches and they hadn’t massacred everyone because of her. “I doubt it, but eh. Our orders – ” were not ones he preferred to share, but whatever. Ar’ren apparently had spilled everything already. Thank you, Ar’ren, for making a choice that much easier “ – were to get what we came for – those seven, your Weyrlingmaster, information from whoever took care of him – and leave. Maybe the dragons that took on the Infirmary were planning on murdering the Healers anyway; I don’t know.” They weren’t murderers. Well, they were, but they weren’t just mindless murderers.

He decided that probably wasn’t the most encouraging thing to say, though, and kept it to himself; that his hair had been touched had A’emi nicely distracted and he actually turned his head to stare at S’rei’s hand as if he were seriously considering biting, never mind that he hadn’t even attempted to get up yet. Hated people touching his hair. Couldn’t stand it. He brushed against Kyrahth’s mind silently, to see if the green had calmed, and got a wave of emotion – hate love protect – before the green commented sharply, still bitingly, Oh, yes, Faranth forbid he mess up your /hair/. Dearest, whatever /shall/ we do if /that/ happens?

[Requiem]

A'emi's reaction was...amusing. No, not just amusing. S'rei actually chuckled at him, cool greys narrowing into a less than entirely pleasant smile. "At least some things never change...peons are still kept in the dark." Condescending? Definitely, but S'rei really didn't care about the greenrider's feelings. So sue him. He flicked at a strand that had come loose from that slicked back style the rider wore, not missing how it seemed that that was what bothered the rider about the whole series of events. "If you came here for seven to keep us from knowing, kid, what makes you think you wouldn't be sent merrily on your way to High Reaches to try to prevent them from knowing? It's not the weyrs your leadership is worried about. They've got a lovely Hall to keep happy...a Hall they wouldn't want to lose the services of. Too bad for them they kind of failed. Epicly. Understand?" A slight mocking tone.

Straightening, he commandeered the bed, allowing the other man to get up at his leisure if he chose. Sitting just on the edge of it, he draped his arm over his knees. "I'll just leave it up to Ka'rys. You're free to join his wing drills, and attempt to impress him - which I suggest you do. If he doesn't want you, our transitional wing will be your home - probably for a good long while. Consider it motivation. I'm a lot more laidback than Ka'rys." A cold smile touched his lips. "Good luck." That said, the tall man stood, waved to the green, and left the room without a backward glance.