there will be no white flag (shiny!)

[Avu]

So lovely the sea, what grace shimmers across each wave, the blue observed, eyes bright as they skimmed across the coast. A mirror of a different kind; a spill of liquid glass—such secrets must be murmured in every crest. To drown, such bittersweet beauty, such is life… His voice hummed, crooning high as if to follow the path of a sea darter whose wings curved above them, drawing circles into the sky. The dark blue dragon yawned, slow and deliberate, and stretched, settling his body more snugly along the sun-warmed sands. Molten silver, richness yields aplenty does her majesty—look, his head tipped to one side, eyes glittering with calm greens, Sky and sea dance for an eternity, always touching, never parted…

A pause, the blue’s head turning away from the sea and rotating against the warm scratchy sand. …KaMine, surely you can spare me attention, short though yours may be. Rhiiseth’s tone was gently chiding, rather than offended. It was rare Rhiiseth was actually offended, after all, and even when he was, the blue was good at hiding it. Treat enemies and competition with the smoothest politeness, and the victory would be ever the more sweet. And speaking of victories…

“You’ve been waxing poetic about everything since Feyrianth’s Flight,” a mound of sand informed Rhiiseth with a sound rather akin to a yawn. The pile shifted, grains skittering down sharply inclined sides. “I really doubt you’re saying anything new. ‘S gorgeous, yeah…” A hand emerged from the pile of sand, waving aimlessly in a circle, and then was swiftly retracted under the pile of sand again. “Mm. You wouldn’t believe,” the words muffled but articulate, “how comfortable this is. Can I sleep here? – ouch, fuck you, Rhii, get off me!” The voice climbed half an octave and ended in a high, indignant whine, as the blue’s tail draped calmly over the middle of the mound.

Cease and desist, KaMine, Rhiiseth interrupted coolly, ignoring the sand’s aggravated huff of breath, barely loud enough to be audible. Temper tantrums suit not the smallest toddler nor do they you. As it is, blankets and sand are not conducive to the process of oxygen inhalation. I had intended to unbury you once you passed into unconsciousness. The words, infinitely calm and unworried, were accompanied by a flash of teeth, the blue’s lips curling backwards in a macabre mimicry of a human smile, the blue’s tail slithering sideways to push a heap of sand away from the pile.

“I bet you say that to all the pretty girls,” the sand pile sighed, and gave an odd squirm. “Mph. Just as long as you do unbury me eventually. Know how to give CPR, do you?” it added hopefully.

Certainly, KaMine. Shall I demonstrate mouth-to-mouth? Rhiiseth suggested dryly, and snapped his teeth shut in an audible click. The pile of sand shivered, and the blue crooned smugly. Since I have your attention…the sea. The pile of sand groaned loudly. Or perhaps those who our path chose, and towards us drift, would be of better interest to you. The pile of sand was momentarily still, and then gave a slow, thoughtful hum. A minute later, a corner of the pile lifted slightly, and out from under a checked blanket, two eyes flicked into being, blinking sand from lashes and peering intently out at the world.

[Shiny]

Your actions are illogical, mine.[/color] Syrene glared from thickly kohl-rimmed eyes at the innocent landscape before her as Wridelth spoke. She knew he wanted to explain himself further but expected a response from her first, and he undoubtedly knew that he would get it. The darkly-dressed girl trudged with a vengeance through the sand, responding to the Blue following her footsteps without looking back at him, voice lacking any sort of interest. How so. You have an allergy to sunlight and yet you willingly take a long walk through territory where shade is a scarcity at a time when sunlight is at a maximum.

A long, annoyed sigh escaped Syrene as she readjusted the hood over her head to try and block out more of the light. How was it she got stuck with such an infuriating dragon again? First of all, Wridelth, it's a mild allergy. The worst thing that will happen is I will get itchy, and I'm not itchy yet. Reaching into her sleeve, she scratched at her arm. Sharding dragon put the idea in her mind and now she was itchy. Second, I would rather be so itchy I scratch all of my skin off than be stuck in that Weyr with those idiots. I need to be alone, and this seems to be the only place I can achieve that status. The pale dragon trotted smoothly along behind His, tail swinging like a metronome at the pleasantness of it all - the opposite of Syrene, who looked as though she wanted to murder each and every grain of sand that made walking so difficult. Another highly illogical decision that I have witnessed is your choice of clothing, Syrene mine. Black absorbs all of the wavelengths of sunlight, thus heating your clothing to uncomfortable temperatures. It is winter, but with warmed clothes and the internal exothermic reactions that power your movements, there is an increasing risk that you will overheat. As much as Syrene hated to admit it, the Blue was right; it was getting very hot under all of these black clothes. Still, she wouldn't let him know it. I only have black clothes. There was nothing I could do.

Wridelth stopped behind His as she did, and watched her take off a boot to dump the sand out with blank eyes. Blinking with a layer of transparent eyelids, he looked up and over yonder; something appeared to have caught his attention. Sharp eyes inspected a shape not too far from where they stood. I have just received a broadcast from that solitary Blue dragon sitting at an approximated distance of twenty five meters from our current averaged position. Your point? We are obligated to help if he is in need of our services; I see no rider, and suspect it the causation of the problem.

"This cannot be happening to me..." Syrene growled under her breath. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to keep her temper under control. With a sharp "fine", she stormed in the direction of the lone dragon at a pace that actually allowed Wridelth some decent usage of his legs. The faster they got there, the faster they could dismiss whatever the dragon's situation was, the faster she could finally be alone.

[Avu]

Why is she wearing… He trailed off, not quite sure how he wanted the finish that sentence. …that? Then, decisively, She looks like a Northerner. Not that he didn’t, Ka’aen supposed. Certainly wasn’t blonde and blue-eyed, but at least he didn’t immediately hear ‘winter’ and dive for black clothing anymore. (Had, but he’d gotten over that the first time he felt like dying of heat stroke in the middle of the winter—one for the records, that would’ve been.) The sand covering him—which had, ironically, also been courtesy of Rhiiseth—gave a little hapless squirm, the bluerider peering out intently again as the dragon and Rider pair grew closer. Very young, the blue—one of the Weyrlings. What were they doing all the way out here?

Rhiiseth swept his tail idly over the mound of sand, head tilting towards Wridelth and his approaching Rider. Greetings to you and Yours, the gaze flicked to Syrene, the smooth words broadcasted to girl as well as dragon—shy Rhiiseth was not. Quite early the day and long the path for such a journey, is it not? His tail curled and uncurled, a purr thrumming through his throat. Eyes half-closed lazily, Such speed, skim over sand and sea, let the sun and sky envy thy grace, so? Though it ended on a quirky uplift to indicate a question, Rhiiseth did not intend for it to be answered—in fact, he had not even intended for his words to particularly make sense.

I am Rhiiseth, he added, tilting his head to one side and flicking his tail against the sand. His eyes gleamed blue and green, pleasant; I am the night dancer, story weaver; I paint the stars into the sky and the moon sings my songs. The sea wakes under my wings; the wind whispers its secrets to me. To whom have I the honor of speaking? Because, let’s face it—Rhiiseth didn’t usually make sense if he could avoid it. He didn’t introduce himself as a story weaver for nothing.

With that speed of walking…it wasn’t long until Ka’aen popped his head up out of his sand-pile, foregoing an ankle grab on account of the fact that she might as well fall flat on his sand pile and yeah, that would hurt like nobody’s business. “Boo,” he commented amiably, still buried chest-down in sun-warmed sand. His grin hitched slightly at the look on Syrene’s face—someone was in a bad mood, weren’t they—but there was no backing out of this. He was fairly sure that emerging from his comfortable sand nest required some kind of explanation, given most people did not wrap themselves up into blanket burritos and burrow into the sand. (He didn’t understand why they didn’t. It was terribly warm.)

“Hey, c’mon—you’re at the beach. You might as well act a little happy.” He quirked a grin up at her, softer. “Lie to yourself until it’s true, you know?” He didn’t say, I’m pretty good at that, even if it was true. Too much information, too little friendship. (Or no friendship; Ka’aen wasn’t a total masochist and even if he got along with most people, he preferred the company of those who were relatively amiable.) Folding his arms over the pile of sand, Ka’aen brushed one hand through his hair, dislodging a small shower of sand grains. Hmm. Maybe that was why people tended to avoid burrowing.

[Shiny]

Confusion flitted over Syrene's face (as much as emotion could flit over her face) as a foreign dragon's voice spoke in her mind. Not only was the phenomenon strange, but the dragon made no sense. The confusion morphed into a murderous look as Rhiiseth talked. The dragon clearly wasn't in trouble if he was talking like that (well maybe he was, mentally, but that was beside the point). It occurred to her that she could turn around at this point and walk away, but she wanted to give the dragon (and the Rider, too, if he or she was there) shit up close for interrupting her on her walk for no reason.

Your speech pattern is intriguing, Rhiiseth, but also quite illogical. Speaking in such a poetic fashion only consumes precious time. My name is Wridelth, and my grouchy bonded is Syrene.[/i] The girl stormed at Rhiiseth, mouth opening to scorch him with flames of hell, when a "boo!" made her jump. A hand immediately flying to the closest blade on her, she fixed her black eyes on a mostly-buried person. Reluctantly, Syrene pulled her hand away weapon-free and took a deep breath to try and calm her stimulated nerves. "Idiot. Don't scare people like that, especially if they're blade-happy," she snapped, briefly inspecting the boy. He wasn't someone she'd seen before; thus, he was pegged a Wastelander. She was still very bitter about being strip-searched by them upon their arrival, and did not intend to show mercy to them in any shape or form.

"Act a little happy?" She repeated, eyes narrowing at him. Clearly, he didn't know who she was. She tilted her head as if considering his words. Lie to yourself until it's true. "I'm completely alone. I'm completely alone. I'm completely alone," she muttered to herself, turning away from the buried Rider and the fully-grown Blue. She wouldn't just lie about it; she'd make it come true.

The girl only got one foot in front of her before Wridelth's tail wrapped around her ankle. With a swift pull - "Agh!" - Syrene was flat on her ass. "Why did you do that?" She barked angrily. I foresee socially interacting greatly benefiting you, my lovely Syrene. Let us stay and commence a dialogue with these individuals.[/color] Really, by "us", Wridelth meant "Syrene". He didn't particularly want to chat up Rhiiseth, but he would if it meant getting the girl out talking to people.

Why are you out here?[/color] asked the pale Weyrling, tail still wound around his bonded's leg to keep her there.

Syrene's posture slumped forward in surrender after she briefly half-attempted and failed to wiggle her foot from Wridelth's grip. So she was stuck here with this guy. Great. Black eyes stared up from a down-turned head at the male buried right next to her. "What're you even doing, anyway? A gust of wind could blow sand into your eyes." And with that, she half-heartedly blew at him.

[Avu]

Time, purred deep in his throat, stands still, stretches to the edges of forever. No beginning and no end, and yet has no existence; therefore, his words dropped into a near mental caress, Is only what we make of it, an illusion for those who allow themselves the luxury of it. Close your eyes, dreams sweep you off your feet, silver lies and golden deceptions…Wridelth, Rhiiseth rolled the name across his mind like he was tasting it, How does time differ when one life…invariably lasts a single lifetime only? The uplift at the end of his tone carried into a rumbling purr, the blue’s eyes half-lidded, lips curling back into a canine-flashing smile

Ka’aen couldn’t help the amused snicker. So very grumpy. It was interesting, kind of, watching people storm around and fuss and fret, because it was so rare that he did; he was too lazy to get worked up much. It was tempting to call “You’re getting the hang of it!” after her, but he resisted—blade-happy, right? And it wasn’t like he didn’t know how to defend himself—you didn’t stay in Benden and not learn, even if you were lucky enough not to need it, like he’d been—but he was kind of at a disadvantage, what with being buried in sand. He’d—his eyes flew open and his mouth dropped in a helpless huff of laughter at the small blue’s tripping his Rider.

In any case, her attempt at, what, dignity, pretending she hadn’t just tumbled to the ground in an extraordinary display of utter grace, earned an amused smile. “I was sleeping, up until Rhiiseth got bored and buried me,” he said casually, and wiggled a hand out of the blanket to offer it to the girl. “Ka’aen, by the way, since Rhii neglected to introduce me—Syrene, according to your Wridelth, right?” He didn’t exactly expect her to actually shake his hand; it seemed like the small pettiness, the refusal, that he associated with people who were just utterly disconsolate. He added, unable to help himself, “You know, I bet wearing all that eyeliner makes the sun worse. What’s it for?”

He actually had no idea whether eyeliner would make the sun worse or not, but in his own logic, it did, so there. And in any case, Ka’aen was not overly concerned with makeup—he just didn’t understand why someone would smear it all over their eyes like that. So unattractive—but then, he’d always preferred girls that looked natural, nice without trying.

So noisy at the Weyr, Rhiiseth murmured, gaze sliding towards Wridelth; the words were almost distant, distracted. Life in static flashes, colors and motions and noise with black to mark the turn of pages. Such a loud heartbeat has Selenitas, so uniform. It is… He paused on a low, thoughtful hum, Sky-sea blue, wind-whispers; it is calm. One can, at last…breathe, and the word was drawn in on a long inhale. Rhiiseth barely paused on the death of the words before, Of course, I could ask the same of you. A far way from home wanders the flightless…

[Shiny]

Wridelth simply sat like a statue as he observed Rhiiseth, his calculating mind a glint in his blank eyes. Logically, time does indeed exist. If it did not, everything as we know it would not exist, and we would never have committed this dialogue. Although time is not a constant, the differences in it that we acquire as individuals are negligible; understanding that it passes at an approximately equivalent rate for all life forms suggests that time is precious in that death will occur at some point in time for each and every organism. Being efficient in communication saves time for other purposeful activities.[/color] With a flick of his tail, Wridelth decided that he was done with this conversation. It in itself was a waste of time. This Blue was being illogical, and frankly, Wridelth could care less if the dragon didn't see the truth. As long as he didn't catch the wordy disease, Rhiiseth could carry on with his flowery language.

Syrene shot Ka'aen a death-glare as he laughed at her. "Shut your face before I shut it for you," she threatened as she brushed sand off her clothes, a light, embarrassed tinge of pink sprinkled across her cheeks. She bent forward to remove her boot, socked toes wiggling uncomfortably in the sand that was trapped there. As she worked to untie it and pull it off, Ka'aen introduced himself, to which he got a disinterested "mm". Sitting upright to pour the sand out of the shoe next to her, an outstretched hand caught her eye. Black eyes flicking at the male's face with an expression of really?, she turned her attention back to her boot. "I don't shake hands." She quickly put the boot back on her foot and smacked the pale blue tail that still had her ankle in a bind on the way back up. Wridelth's tail snaked away from the captured ankle, a non-threatening warning brushing Syrene's mind. If she tried to run away again, Wridelth would bring her down a second time, whether that be via tail-tripping or full-out tackle.

Syrene snorted at his reply but didn't say anything. It certainly wasn't too smart to be sleeping out here where something or someone could attack you, but she could understand trying to get away from the Weyr. She huffed exasperatedly at Ka'aen as he started trash-talking her eyeliner. Clearly, someone wasn't very educated on these matters. "You're wrong. Kohl makes it easier to see in intense sunlight." Her eyes narrowed at him as an idea came to mind. "You should see for yourself." Almost as fast as she could produce a blade, she had a stick of kohl in her hand, and she was leaning forward ominously.

"Hey!" she yelled, watching the boy retreat into the safety of his blanket at the sight of the stick. "No you don't. Get your ass back out here. Don't make me come find you." With a slight, evil-doing grin, the black-clad girl grabbed the edge of the blanket and started to lift it so she could crawl in and draw on Ka'aen's face.

Wridelth turned his head to look at His. It was odd behaviour for Syrene, especially considering he hadn't thought she'd been in a playful mood at all. Perhaps she was suffering early symptoms of heatstroke. It was probably because of all that black she was wearing. The young Blue snorted. Trust Syrene to not follow a wise dragon's advice.

Turning his attention aloofly back to Rhiiseth, Wridelth's tail flicked, sending the tip of a sand dune to a misshaped death. This Weyr was much more peaceful before it was besieged.[/color] The fact that Rhiiseth didn't seem bothered or upset in some way seemed to indicate that he was part of the party that had done the besieging. Although he automatically disliked all Wastelanders for separating the pair in the middle of the night and stripsearching His, he knew there was nothing he could do about it at the moment, logically speaking. Mine requested to be solitary; as a result, I accompanied her to a quiescent location.[/color]

((Avuvu, if you aren't okay with me powerplaying Ka'aen retreating under the blanket, let me know and I'll edit it out. I just remember you mentioning something about it in the cbox, so I put it in to save us some time. xD))

[Avu]

Was it any surprise Ka’aen ducked, really? He was male, and being attacked by a girl with eyeliner. It wasn’t like he could hit her! Although, he supposed, she could hit him, but she didn’t look really very strong so that was okay, he guessed, given she didn’t manage to kick him in the crotch by some wild acrobatics. And Ka’aen was fairly sure she couldn’t—his crotch was, after all, very much under his pile of sand and also pressed against the ground, what with his position, and it would take some doing. If she managed it, he’d have to congratulate her on managing to break the laws of physics after he stopped wanting to die of acute mortification and agony.

The bluerider clung to the edges of his blanket, intent on keeping Syrene out, wiggling backwards rapidly until sand poured over his feet—he’d run out of blanket. Dammit. “Mercy! Uncle! I give up! Surrender! Please,” ended up spilling out of his mouth, Ka’aen crossing his arms and attempting to burrow his face into his forearms, never mind that breathing actually was getting difficult, between the fact that he was shaking with silent laughter and that he was being effectively smothered by his own blanket and a pile of sand. What a way to go. “This is my white flag—look,” he groped around until his thumb hit a seashell, held it up defensively in front of him like it could magically possess Syrene to stop.

Too bad you couldn’t really see when you were effectively buried alive. Who knew. (Then again, who knew Syrene would actually try to crawl into the blanket after him—she hadn’t struck him as being moved enough by anything to do that, but hey, who was he to judge—this was kind of fun in a terrifyingly hysterical kind of way. And kind of humiliating, since he had nowhere to go and would probably end up with an eyeliner mustache. Sexy.)

So practical, the little one, and where was the fun in that? Rhiiseth purred softly, the blue curling around himself to peer curiously at Wridelth. His gaze lingered briefly on the tail that had skimmed dangerously close to KaHis (and although it amused him that KaHis was so terribly amused by the antics of Wridelth’s, he really did not wish for KaHis to end up smothered by sand), skimmed back over the sea casually. The almost-accusative words of the Weyrling earned a brief sideways look—one of quiet amusement rather than regret; Rhiiseth did not regret. They lived in a war; it would do no good to anybody to wish they could reverse time, or decisions that weren’t his to make to begin with.

There is beauty in tragedy; love in heartbreak, if you have eyes to see it. There is isolation amid multitudes; companionship in the hum of the wind and the curl of every wave. Our world is a gorgeous paradox. You and Yours… His eyes slitted on what he could see of Syrene, presumably busy marking up KaHis’ face with her strange little stick of black, The sounds are few; the sights are many; here there is time to breathe. Are you, really? One wing trembled at the tip; Shh—listen. His eyes fell half-shut, glancing along to Wridelth again, a lazy curl of amusement coloring his gaze green. Silence has such a lovely melody.

[Shiny]

Maliciously amused black eyes squinted to see the target of the assault in the smothering pocket of blanket and sand. The blanket was sealed quite tightly to the ground by the Bluerider in an attempt to cocoon himself from danger, but alas, no blanket was a match for Syrene. Crawling in further on her forearms with kohl in hand, she paused when Ka'aen muttered his surrender and held up a shell. Syrene lied on her belly silently for a moment, a curl of cold pleasure twisting her lips. Oh, how it was fun to watch the boy squirm.

So he produced a white flag. Did he really think she was someone to play fair? But she would use it to her advantage, make the other Bluerider think that she was letting him get out scot-free. "Fine. Get up." It was quite stuffy in here; if she didn't retreat to the open air soon, both her and her victim would run out of oxygen to breathe. And that would be no fun.

Syrene waited until Ka'aen raised his head to attack. With an evil-doing grin she lashed out with her stick of kohl, attempting to hit anything she could reach without fully immersing herself under the blanket with Ka'aen, even managing to mark up his shoulder with the first wild slash. She brought the black stick back down to slide across Ka'aen's face - swung again and again, back and forth. "Hmm, all dolled up now," she purred with darkly sarcastic approval, the smirk and glint in her eye making her look like something to be feared. "Why don't we take a looksee in the light." After all, it was pretty hard to even see her masterpiece underneath this blanket. Slithering backwards, the girl pulled out from underneath the camouflaged shelter and pulled her black hood up, waiting just outside the edge of the blanket for her victim to emerge. She inhaled deeply, audibly. Perhaps this was incentive enough to get Ka'aen out from his hiding place. "Fresh air, oh how it feeds my lungs..."

The pale blue weyrling flicked his tail as he watched the disturbed sand piled on top of the blanket sift away in response to the human battle going on. Syrene's current attitude would seem surprising at first, but Wridelth knew the Blueweyrling well enough to know that it wasn't completely impossible behaviour for the girl. She was getting her daily dose of torture, after all. The Blue's white eyes stayed focused on the backs of Syrene's legs. Wridelth was hardly interested in Rhiiseth; he was taking up psychoanalyzing his Bonded instead. Although he did - in a somewhat detached manner - carry on the conversation for a lack of other brain stimuli. This world is indeed fascinating, I must agree with you.[/i] His mindvoice was cold as frost but smooth as silk as it flowed between them. We appear to coincide in our opinions on silence; it is intriguing that our views intersect in such ways, Wastelander.[/i] Even if he wasn't right, Wridelth would venture to call them Wastelanders. Based on the Blue's given observations and the fact that he was never wrong about anything, he was fairly certain his claim was true.

[Avu]

Wait, what?

Really?

Ka’aen cautiously peered out from his protectively crossed arms, blinked in owlish surprise. Was it really that easy, waving a shell around…? Suspiciously, he squinted at Syrene for a minute before he began to wiggle out like a turtle that had gotten stuck inside of its own shell, and wow, he was getting sand in places where sand should never go. He was going to have to take a very thorough bath later. “Thank you,” he started carefully, still squinting suspiciously up at Syrene and feeling distinctly like he was being laughed at. “For not—” The words dissolved into a startled yelp, Ka’aen instinctively writhing backwards into his blanket again, at the not-so-surprise attack.

His head quickly found the relative safety of blanket and arms again, the bluerider flashing a narrow glare up at Syrene for good measure before he vanished into his own arms, huffing in audible distress as he attempted to scrub the eyeliner off of his cheek with the heel of his hand. Ka’aen only succeeded in smearing it comically—he probably looked like he’d walked straight into a door. Making a small disgusted noise, the bluerider cautiously licked his fingertip and scrubbed at his cheek again. It smeared again, remained stubbornly attached to his skin. “That’s not nice,” he said, his voice probably incoherent and muffled thanks to the blanket that Syrene was no longer beneath.

He’d just stay under here, then. But…the thought of fresh air appealed enough that Ka’aen reluctantly lifted the edge of the blanket, sending sand spilling down into his little pit; gray eyes stared accusingly out of the dimness of the sand-blanket-cave at Syrene. Ka’aen wasn’t really upset; and what little true upset he was feeling was tempered by amusement, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t play aggravated. Because he kind of was aggravated; he didn’t particularly enjoy being all eyeliner-covered by a girl he’d met all of five minutes ago, if that. “Does this stuff even ever come off?!” the bluerider asked, piteously indignant.

No, Ka’aen, it didn’t—permanent eyeliner, didn’t you know?

If Rhiiseth noted Wridelth’s lack of focus, the blue did not deign to show it, but that was hardly a surprise for those that knew the blue—Rhiiseth was good at being observant, but only when it suited him, and even when he did, he was rarely obvious with those observations. It was easier not to be. Suited him. And in any case, he was far too laid-back to bother being upset that a hatchling blue was not fawning over him. Rhiiseth, young one, he corrected smoothly, although he did not deny that he was, indeed, Northern; Rhiiseth wasn’t ashamed of it at all. Night dancer, spell weaver, singer of the song of stars, if you will.

The blue’s head canted to one side lazily, a wide yawn curling over his teeth. See, the oil already begins to mix with the water, whisper-quiet rainbows. In time, perhaps two opposites may at last come together as one. A low thoughtful purr, rumbling deep in his chest. But then again…