Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
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Post by Avu on Dec 22, 2010 20:45:15 GMT -5
“I thought deserts were supposed to be warm,” A’emi muttered, hunching his shoulders in an attempt to block the wind currently whistling around his ears. “It’s got to be like, negative five hundred and two degrees out here.” He puffed out his breath experimentally. Too dark to actually see whether or not his breath was visible, but he was sure it would be. If, you know, there was light. (Not that they didn’t have light, period. They did. Or rather, K’sel did—A’emi was too busy trying to stay not-frozen to bother with silly things like candles and lanterns. Who needed them.) At the moment, he was kind of expecting to break his leg tripping over a tunnelcat hole any second now, but that was okay, too. He was too cold to care about anything.
Darkling whistled next to his ear, the green firelizard rustling her wings in quiet irritation; her body was twined so tightly around his neck, an occasional shiver vibrating against his pulse, that he probably looked like he’d just grown a particularly large and misshapen tumor. At least she provided some little warmth, though. The green was not usually with A’emi anymore, too busy having her own adventures without the restraints of a Weyr and the Weyr’s rules. So many silly animals to scare to death, probably. But when it got cold, she came fleeing straight to him so she could try to burrow into his neck and glue herself there.
Love, you’re stupid, Kyrahth announced, ever-cheerful. I thought you decided to go for a walk because you /couldn’t sleep/. It’s not likely you’re going to fall asleep if you’re being turned into an icicle. Especially with Pettahth’s there to spew nonsense at you too. You may as well come back and be warm. Ever-reasonable. Or she would be, if her tone had not had a decidedly irritated note to it, a tight note of worry threading through her ‘voice’. Not entirely unexpected, given it was Kyrahth; A’emi didn’t think the green was quite capable of not worrying about him, even if she usually showed it by telling him he was stupid.
I love you too, Kyr, A’emi replied dryly, and turned to K’sel to complain about Kyrahth. Since he was complaining about everything else, it seemed fitting. “She’s like—” Cut himself off with a blink. “Was that the wind? Okay, she’s literally driving me crazy. How long does a walk have to be to constitute as a walk and not as a failed attempt at a walk?” He’d been hoping, maybe, that if he kept running his mouth it would warm him up. Wasn’t working, more was the pity—but then, that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? He felt Darkling shiver again, and he could see the glow of her eyes in his peripheral view, gleaming yellow in the darkness.
She wiggled against his neck, turning her glance briefly back towards K’sel, and whistled reproachfully at him. Hurry hurry hurry. Walk faster.
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Lotty
Shiny Hoarder
Rider Mi?rah Rider K?sel Rider Osnat Healer Raebeli
Posts: 1,020
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Post by Lotty on Dec 22, 2010 22:56:02 GMT -5
I think K'selmine, that this is a bit.... oh what is the word for it? Over doing it a bit?
K'sel didn't just have a candle, no, he was nature boy deluxe and took his primal desire to play with fire to the obvious if ridiculous conclusion. The kid had a torch for the love of Faranth! Having wrapped agenothree doused rags around a piece of driftwood, the brownrider was sure that this was a suitable kind of lantern for short adventures around the campsite. While one (aka Pettahth) may bitch or moan about the flame being a dead give away to their presence, their lone existence out there in the barren desert, K'sel had a very pointed message for critics such as those: Fuck you. He was not exactly privy to the idea of stepping on a desert variety tunnel snake thank you very much. This was not even mentioning the collection of other creepy critters like those head-sized gossamer spinners or the gecko-like little crawlers that seemed to stick their stupid little suction cup feet on everything. The fire also did a job of killing off a few buzz flies who had most definitely been eating the young man alive today.
So yes, K'sel would like to meet the reject rider who got assigned to patrolling the desert for renegades, because you couldn't be too much of a threat if you screw up enough to pull a shift in this Pernese Hell, and as such he was more than confident that A'emi and himself were completely alone out there. Well not counting other dimensional beings anyway. Not that he typically believed in such things... for a guy who was most definitely not superstitious and didn't even regard Faranth as anything but a stuuuuupid sort of feel-good legend, it was a peculiar fact that a few small parts of his childhood upbringing still stuck with him. It spoke a little of his buffet style belief system, but the fact of the matter was that to this day he was a sucker for a well told ghost story. Thats all they were... just stories right?
Still trying to bury his chin in a Bedouin's scarf for added warmth, he was able to mutter out his own muffled reply, "This is worse than between... at least there I don't have to worry about sand in my boots..." Could he just take a moment now to mention that sand was the worst here? It seemed more than happy to take rides in the wind and work it's way easily into ever crevasse and every fold of just about everything that the three of them collectively owned, which wasn't much mind you, but he'd hate to think that even their meager belongings would be ruined. Marching forward in their hastened shuffle, he pinched his expression together at the greenrider's next comment. Was that the wind... Hmmm? He didn't brush the comment off, he turned to meet A'emi's eyes however difficult that was in their blackened surrounding, "Wait... was what the wind?" He let the question hang for a minute before dismissing it himself, "All I've been hearing is Darkling's whistling. You haven't been throwing any of those funny desert plants on the fire have you? The smoke clouding up your brain? Licking the poison crawlers?"
Perhaps Kyrahth was just driving her rider crazy, and K'sel was more than happy to just leave the discussion at that. He was sure that he was going to be the next one to go that way himself, and blissful they could all be in their little schizophrenic worlds they were constructing for themselves, "I always heard that a walk was picking a destination and returning from..." his words were cut off and he pivoted his body around to look behind him. The flame of his torch huffed in protest to the sudden jerk before the rider turned back again to explain to A'emi, "Sorry, a bug must have decided to drop on my shoulder..." because it certainly wasn't one of his firelizards - even if Mojo was a big enough jerk to pull a ploy like that - and he wasn't willing to even suggest that it was something unexplainable. The paranoia was simply up, the adrenaline rolling. He was just feeding off of cues with the greenrider. This was what he was telling himself.
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Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
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Post by Avu on Dec 23, 2010 10:45:58 GMT -5
“Nothing.” He couldn’t help the flicker of doubt, though, and certainly couldn’t help the thrum of his pulse speeding up ever so slightly. It hadn’t really sounded like the wind, but it hadn’t sounded like a person either. Some kind of small animal, maybe. Didn’t matter—nothing smart would approach with the torch so close. Which meant it wasn’t worth lingering on. A’emi’s hands pushed deep into his pockets, wiggling in a hapless attempt at warmth. “No plants. But hey—never heard of licking a poison crawler. Does it work?” Not that A’emi was looking to get high or anything. Of course not. Simple curiosity, that was all. (Maybe they could sell poison crawlers like illegal drugs—guaranteed to get a great high, ten marks apiece or something. Fresh; still alive!)
His eyes narrowed at the cut-off of K’sel’s words, though, a shiver that was not entirely due to the cold sliding down his spine. “A bug,” he echoed skeptically. “I thought the point of the torch was to make bugs go away, not attack you.” Darkling punctuate the sentence with a high fluting sound, close enough to A’emi’s ear to make him twitch in slight surprise. Eerie sound. He’d stopped moving by now, pushing his toe at the skull of a small creature of some sort left on the ground, sun-bleached white. “You know,” he observed absently, because if he was going to get twitchy over his own firelizard, he was definitely going to make sure K’sel was equally twitchy, “I bet people’ve gotten lost here before. It’s a pretty big desert, isn’t it…and I doubt there are like, water stalls along the way.”
Don’t be silly, love. Your ghost stories have gone to your head. You’ve lasted this long, haven’t you? Kyrahth’s unhelpful hiss slid through his mind. The green sounded kind of miserable. Probably from extended exposure to Inocenth and Pettahth. Or something.
“My ghost stories have not gone to my head,” A’emi corrected her out loud. Because it was true that he was on a ghost story streak, but that didn’t mean anything. He’d had a poetry streak a while back (and could still quote some of it, even if he only had the vaguest idea what it was supposed to mean). Ghost stories were an improvement to that. And he knew a lot, most of them remembered from childhood, a few of them invented happily in his own mind and more often than not spewed out to whoever was closest, be it K’sel or Kyrahth or Darkling or even F’ur, just because he could. The greenrider frowned slightly, turning back towards the direction they had been moving. “We should probably go back s—”
It occurred to him that maybe it was just the universe’s sick idea of fun—not letting them finish any sentence—but only in the back of his mind, because most of his mind was more fixed on the fact that Darkling’s gaze went abruptly red, the firelizard gave a sharp eep, and vanished between, leaving his shoulders feeling strangely light and his neck very cold. A’emi blinked twice, licked his lips warily, and finished, “Soon. Before we get lost or something.” Yeah, or something. Like a ghost ate them or something. Which, considering that Darkling was never scared of anything, and had certainly never ditched him in that manner before, was rapidly turning into a definite possibility.
Maybe paranoia was just what he got for dawdling around an ice-cold desert in the middle of the night with a torch for lighting and K’sel for company. “I can’t believe my scarf just left me,” he added with a sigh, brow furrowing slightly as he cast his gaze behind him to look for their footsteps.
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Lotty
Shiny Hoarder
Rider Mi?rah Rider K?sel Rider Osnat Healer Raebeli
Posts: 1,020
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Post by Lotty on Dec 29, 2010 22:11:54 GMT -5
Frankly K'sel had never thought all too hard about whether or not the sharding little crawlers could get you high or not. Some of them did seem to drip with an unhealthy sort of toxic color and were glossy to the touch as if smothered in ill-will... and then the canines... he'd seen a few foam at the mouth when they catch the little leapers in their jaws, but they didn't seem all too much worse for wear so he couldn't help but make some connections. The brownrider though, was willing to sell his little observations and caprices as scientific fact, and non-chalantly shrugged in response, citing, "Well... I was sort of hoping you were just going so say yes so that my theory could be confirmed, but I guess this is something we'll just have to test on someone else," because K'sel was no dummy either, if all you got was a case of distemper - which considering how wolf like he was looking lately, seemed completely feasible - then it wasn't worth his time.
A piece of silence before A'emi began again and the rider was forced to justify his bug. His logic was on a faulty foundation and the explanation was almost non existent, but to him it made tons more sense than any words that spelt out ghost, "An anomaly of a bug... certainly they can be as stubborn or dumb as any of us," and then stopping at the sight of the long abandoned and picked clean carrion he added, "Or that poor creature for example, but what fear of getting lost do we have? We hadn't really figured out where we are going, soooo is it possible to actually get off track?" There had to be enough water in his canteen, and as long as they had their torch they could trace their own steps in the sand back to home base; as cold as it was and as wild as their imaginations ran he couldn't fathom how they could actually have gone very far.
He was ready to step over that abysmal reminder of their mortality when A'emi blurted out - in what K'sel was going to go ahead and assume was nothing more than a reply to his dragon - that spiel about ghost stories. Ah yes, A'emi had been awfully fond of them lately, and he couldn't help but reply whether the greenrider wanted to hear it or not, "You're right they haven't gone to your head, they've all ran right out your..." he was distracted again and notably by whatever it was that was also distracting his companion; this is where he began to swear he was going crazy. Maybe it was the fever, maybe that flu he contracted those few turns ago never really broke and was instead in remission waiting for the most inopportune time to strike.
No. No. No. It couldn't be. This is silly, this is all silly. Sharding A'emi has me... Has you talking to yourself? Pithy beast aren't you? However did you pick me? I did not hatch like this I don't think. I merely got the habit from you. I think if you were my child I would be kind of proud of this revelation. Hmmmm, yeah probably not the time to be thinking about this though.
Especially not with Darkling flipping out like that and the hair on his rising on end. Yeah, it was time to head back, even if the whole exercise did little in the way with helping them go to sleep. This all seemed to be a big giant fail operation, "Yeah, lets get out of here, creepy place is creepy or whatever..." rumbled in his naturally grumpy tone to offset the truth of the statement. He really didn't find it agreeable to be hanging around there anymore, and lowered his torch to let the light rake over the hills and valleys of their own steps. See they'd be fine as long as...
Not so fast...
A whisper and the wind, rushing past hearing and weaving through flame to take the fire's breath away. It was gone with the gust... their light had been effectively extinguished with the deserts cold sigh and an exasperated man could only say to the darkness, "Son of a bitch."
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Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
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Post by Avu on Dec 29, 2010 22:39:15 GMT -5
Ha, ha. Test it.
A’emi clung to the mental image of dropping a poison crawler into some snoring person’s mouth as a brief respite from the slow crawl of anxiety up his spine. Typical snarky K’sel, most of what he was saying. Not manly to admit to fear, was it? The greenrider snorted softly, squinting in the flickering light at his companion, shrugged his shoulders and pushed his hands into his armpits for warmth. Creepy place is creepy, sure. He rolled his eyes dramatically, huffed a dry laugh, swallowed. Would’ve been just fine if he’d thought there was a gang of desert bandits or something hanging out behind the cacti, but ghosts, even if neither of them had done anything but heavily implied their presence—ghosts did not sit well with him.
Read: Ghosts terrified him.
Not the stories of stupid sad women ghosts or crazy giggling headless ghosts; they were just fine and A’emi even figured they’d make pretty amusing company, but ghosts of actual people he had actually known—the very idea made him shiver, especially in the current atmosphere. Not admitting it, of course. “Sure,” he said, voice a shade too light to be genuine in such miserable conditions, ghostliness aside, and he’d just turned back towards wherever they’d come from when they were abruptly plunged in darkness. He froze instinctively, hand snapping onto the hilt of his stiletto, a sharp surprised noise strangling in his throat at the pitch blackness. The words following the torch’s lack of cooperation earned a choked laugh from A’emi, the greenrider turning slowly towards the direction he though K’sel was in and waving his hand vaguely outwards.
“Dude, come on,” he said, blinking as his eyes slowly adjusted, “Really? Next time I carry the torch.” Next time, next time…there would be no next time, judging by the feeling of his skin attempting to crawl off of his body. “What does the desert have against glows, anyway, I can’t see a—ouch, fuck my life. A thing.” The completion of the sentence came in a decidedly put-out tone from the ground, the greenrider having tripped over something (knowing his luck it was probably the same skull he’d been kicking around a second ago) and toppled over in a display of grace that would, no doubt, have been stunning had there been light to see it by.
A’emi blinked awkwardly, trying to rid his eyes of the burning afterimage of the torch, and curled into a sitting position on the ground, groping around until he could grab K’sel’s ankle, oblivious to the shock that might have come with such an impromptu action. “You know what? I think I’m going to crawl. It’s safer by, like, a lot.” And yeah, so he ran at the mouth a little when he was stressed. It was understandable. They were as good as lost in the middle of a freezing desert (oxymoron, much?) without even the moons being out and there were a bunch of ghosts surrounding them . Or no, wait. No ghosts. Ghosts, A’emi reminded himself firmly, did not exist.
Except that they did, evidently, because torches did not just spontaneously give up normally. “I think we need to lodge a complaint with the resident ghosts of this place,” he said casually. “‘Dear ghosts, we are trying not to die, life is nice and it sucks to be you, please seek a mindhealer ASAP, love, A’emi and K’sel.’ Are you decent at chatting up ghosts?”
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Lotty
Shiny Hoarder
Rider Mi?rah Rider K?sel Rider Osnat Healer Raebeli
Posts: 1,020
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Post by Lotty on Dec 30, 2010 18:45:34 GMT -5
K'sel snickered. It wasn't like A'emi holding the torch would have made much of a difference anyway, that gust had been relentless in it's quest to exterminate their light, so the comment did nothing but roll of his back before he could even think to respond to it. There were after all, more important matters to worry about like the lack of light for instance. He was having enough trouble distinguishing his hand in front of his face, but at least his hearing was intact and he had heard the thump that was his companion landing on the sandy ground as well as that distinct stretching of the voice that came when sound began to move away from you. He'd laugh if he wasn't afraid that he would shortly end up on the ground too.
And he nearly did, his heart jumping and clinging to his ribs as that hand wrapped around his leg, "OH SHIIII!" The first thing that came to mind as he instinctively drew the remnants of his torch back like he was in a home-run derby. Common sense had to convince him that the living dead had not crept up from the desert floor and it was none other than A'emi clinging to him. Really there was no reason to beat him senseless with a makeshift club, but that didn't stop from shaking his leg to get the guy off of ankle, "Listen dude...bro.... bro dude. Get off me, you are a grown ass man... " Which would be a relevant argument if the greenrider hadn't been crawling around on the ground like an infant.
Giving up on the matter didn't seem to help at all either. What good was it to bespeak the ghosts? K'sel didn't really understand, and when A'emi asked as to his own ghost whispering skills he froze dramatically and raised his hands to his temples. Rubbing them he stuttered out, "W-w-wait. They're speaking to me.... they... they say...." he caught his breath and stood in silence for a few swollen seconds before hesitantly pressing on, "they say... we are a couple of rubes for trying to reason with the UNDEAD!" Duh! If he were to ever come back to haunt somebody then he wasn't going to sharding lay off because they asked nicely. That sort of defeated the purpose, and between the two of them he was sure that they had enough dead friends and enemies to account for these unfortunate circumstances.
Crossing his arms defiantly, the brownrider was not content to just crawl back to their camp despite the fact that their torch was not going to spontaneously just re-light itself. Hmmph. Nothing like navigation by starlight, "I just wish that these ghosts would get their jollies some other way than this. Always too cowardly to come out during the day... I wonder why that is..." it was decided, when he died he definitely would set a precedent and do all his work when people least expected it. He shook his fist at the darkness and yelled, "Kiss my ass!" one more time before hankering down onto the ground to form a plan. A plan than instead turned into story time, "Anybody in your past you've particularly pissed off that may be out here haunting us right now? Maybe we should start apologizing..."
The wind whistled again. Lovely.
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Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
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Post by Avu on Dec 30, 2010 21:08:37 GMT -5
He couldn’t help it, really. A’emi snickered. The snicker rapidly evolved into a full-blown laugh, the greenrider releasing K’sel’s ankle in order to smother his amusement at the brownrider’s expense with his hand, and if after a while the silent huffs of laughter had a slightly hysterical tinge, it was only to be expected. He composed himself into seriousness after a minute, blinking straight ahead into the darkness, because even if he couldn’t see, he couldn’t act serious without looking serious, too. Just didn’t work. “At least they’re reasonable enough to bother telling you anything at all,” he said dryly, “Maybe they burn up in the sunlight. Poof, gone. Screwed-to-hell life is still better than no life, right? Whers deal just fine.”
The rather sudden shout earned a full-out twitch from A’emi, the greenrider responding automatically, “No, thanks,” even though he was ninety percent sure K’sel was not, in fact, talking to him. If he was, they had a problem, because the existence of ghosts? Totally not his fault. (Although it was his fault they were even out there at all. Technicalities.) The change in K’sel’s voice a second later had him dropping his gaze from somewhere above his head to roughly eye level. Sit here and apologize to ghosts all night, sounded like a blast. Arranging himself into a moderately more comfortable position, A’emi hummed thoughtfully. “Okay, let’s see. I guess I should start from my birth, right? Might as well work my way up to present day.”
A long pause, and then A’emi said, clearly and as sincerely as he could manage (not very; a definite sarcastic, story-telling note clung to his voice), “Dear Mother, I actually have no idea if you’re still alive, since I don’t think you remembered me, but assuming you’re dead, I’m very sorry for making you go through labor again, I’m sure it sucked enough the first time. But, I would also like to point out that I actually didn’t ask to be born, thanks and lots of love.” He paused, trying to remember people with actual names he could apologize to for his sins, “Dear R’qen, I’m sorry you’re dead and all but this is just creepy, and while I recognize that I am amazing and interesting, I’m sure there’s someone else you could, as a ghost, be stalking. Like, come on, go spy on some hot girl or something.”
Have you /actually/ gone insane? Kyrahth asked, sounding a perverse mixture of awed and utterly horrified. Pettahth, Yours has permission to beat A’emi into unconsciousness with whatever may be closest at hand if his insanity proceeds. I am sure that he will make much better company if he is not running at the mouth talking to people that do not exist.
A’emi opted to ignore the words themselves, but he brightened at her voice. “Ah! Dear numerous anonymous Benden Riders whose names I will never know, I’m awfully sorry that you had to encounter the pointy edges on my dragon, she Hatched like that and I swear I only fed her firestone because I was cold—like freezing like this stupid desert cold—and wanted her to make me a bonfire. She’s not that nice, of course. You probably already figured that out, though.” He rubbed his palms over his biceps, trying for warmth again. “Aaaand…you know what, this is just a mass apology for everyone that I forgot about. Or whose deaths I don’t know about, I’m sure there are a few of those too. Hi, Mom! Your turn,” he finished brightly, waving a hand in K’sel’s vague direction and managing to clip the brownrider somewhere—hopefully his shoulder and not his face, but eh.
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Lotty
Shiny Hoarder
Rider Mi?rah Rider K?sel Rider Osnat Healer Raebeli
Posts: 1,020
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Post by Lotty on Dec 31, 2010 0:50:15 GMT -5
Well. The rider blinked a few times, and just maybe the whites of his eyes could be visible in the darkness, flashing with every flicker of his eyelids, but this was all assuming that he wasn't bloodshot from the dry, arid, air. If ever there was a time to invent Visine then it would be now, but this was but a tangent. The point was that he hadn't completely expected the greenrider to actually comply. Shards, for a second there he was even starting to think that the idea was stupid, yet A'emi was embracing it well enough if hesitantly at first.
Running his fingertips across the sand and essentially doodling as he listened, he couldn't help but first of all laugh at some of the guy's comments, he certainly wouldn't think to apologize to his mother for putting her through labor... even though he did miss that cheek pinching, motor-mouth, busy-body that Marina tended to be. Hmmm he didn't even know exactly if all those whom he had wronged in the past few turns were dead or just missing in action, and K'sel definitely did not want to make the mistake of saying sorry to someone who was still alive and well so his list would have to be carefully refined.
'Sellamine, it was most definitely a name used only when the dragon wanted his rider's full and undivided attention. A hard thing to get a hold of considering the young man was shuffling through a laundry list of bad memories, Kyrahth has told me that you have permission to knock out Her's. If that suits you though, I do not know. The idea wasn't even so much as considered, I would have to be able to see him first... and I'd rather not drag dead weight back to the cave. Dead weight? Permission was never granted to kill him. I just.... no. Ah well Pettahth would just have to break the sad news to the green, Lady Kyrahth... He had a very specific nickname for every green dragon he spent considerable time with. For example he also had a Nuothfriend and a Fey-one as well, Mine regrets to inform you that the darkness puts him at quite the inconvenience. Pummeling simply can not be done... but I suspect that Mine has fallen to this crazyness too. Contagious.[/i]
Yes clearly this was a textbook case of folie a deux, because here K'sel was throwing in his own share, "I think I'm gonna work my way backwards. Karou... you're a creeper, I'm sorry I didn't realize that was a psychological condition and no fault of your own. L'ka.... no wait... you deserved that punch in the face...I'm NOT sorry for that one," he had taken to scratching his chin by now as he continued to think, "Ah! My long lost weyrling class! D'nar... so sorry I always gave you a hard time just because you were a bronzer, but you were also kind of a dumbass so... anyway, sorry Thora, that I tricked you into a dance lesson, I actually was kind of trying to cop a feel...." well what did anyone expect? He was eighteen turn old hot blooded male at the time (still).
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Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
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Post by Avu on Jan 1, 2011 18:37:32 GMT -5
Has he, then. A question without a question mark. The green’s words were flat and disapproving, less because of Pettahth and more because of A’emi. And K’sel, of course; just because she had exactly zero influence on the brownrider didn’t mean she couldn’t radiate waves of irritation in his general direction and hope he picked up on them. Kyrahth huffed quietly, and then, registering that the contagion apparently had spread, if A’emi was passing what K’sel was saying correctly to her (with a kind of horrifying glee—see, he wasn’t the only one that believed in ghosts at least a little). This is me disowning you both, the green informed him casually, Although I may keep Pettahth. I hope you don’t die miserably in the desert. Good night.
Sleep well, lovely, A’emi answered sweetly, and then pushed her away in order to listen to K’sel repent his terrible sins to the dead. When he drew to an apparent close, the greenrider hummed thoughtfully, would’ve nodded approval if K’sel could see it. “Shame on us both,” he commented regretfully, even though he was pretty sure copping a feel of some girl was considerably less horrible than being put in the same piece of sky as a pissed Kyrahth, but who knew. Then, sifting his fingers through the sand, “Is this the part where our torch magically relights itself and we go home and make peace with our pasts? It’s not working. Who did we miss?”
It must be a ghost’s fault. He didn’t believe his luck was this bad. He refused to. If it was luck, they’d both be skeletons by morning. Therefore, it must be a ghost. (Logic, thy name was A’emi.) He frowned to himself, straining to remember who else he’d offended that was now dead. And—nope. He was empty. A’emi sighed disappointedly, still poking at the sand dejectedly. A night in the desert was good for the soul, maybe, he told himself—in that by morning the soul would be all that was left, assuming whatever predators roamed the deserts did not also eat souls. They might. You never knew. Presumably they could also see in the dark. This was going to be such a fun night. He just couldn’t wait for the next time they had a sleepover like this.
“So I never wrote a will,” he said abruptly. “Kyrahth won’t be around to collect on my things if I die, so this is me officially saying, if you live through the night and I don’t and I’m like, not a pile of bones, you should totally make a creepy ‘Keep Out’ sign and hang my body on it and stick it on the edge of the desert, I think that would be a pretty useful way to be dead, right?” And considerably less romantic than I would like my ashes to be scattered into the sea or Please bury me beneath a willow tree and plant a rosebush above me, but hey, couldn’t have everything. “Also, more in the actual will-thing, I don’t know what you’d want with the crap I’ve got, but have at it anyway, maybe you can sell it—‘Genuine Hobo Artifacts’ .”
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Lotty
Shiny Hoarder
Rider Mi?rah Rider K?sel Rider Osnat Healer Raebeli
Posts: 1,020
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Post by Lotty on Jan 7, 2011 23:34:22 GMT -5
K'sel had waves of disapproval sent his way on an almost regular basis, so whatever emotional forces radiated by the green was for the most part ignored if at all noticed. Instead he stared at the torch - or the outline of what he assumed was his torch - trying to suddenly come upon the power of pyrokinesis and bring flame back to the end of the stick. It wasn't working, nor would it ever work, for as much fire as he could spit when strung out on rabid rants, he simply had nothing in the way of supernatural powers. Well, save maybe the ability to dodge death time and time again, but was that really a "power" as much as a curse? Giving up on futile dreams of summoning ignition, the brownrider snorted and resigned to leaning back and reaching his arms behind him to prop his upper body up. He was coming to terms with spending the night out there little by little.
In response to A'emi's comment he quirked an eyebrow. He couldn't think of anyone else, maybe a few attackers, but he had little sorrow for ridding Pern of another faceless, nameless, warrior. The only guilt left on his heart was in regards to his father; a subject that was hardly touched on, the young man hardly ever uttered the older rider's name. It was as if pretending to have been spit up on shore from the angry, unforgiving, depths of the sea and adopted at the age of eighteen was an easier explanation than to admit his parentage, and ironically it was through no fault of their own. He was just being...
Well he was just being K'sel was all, an admission that produced a funny sort of huff out of himself. He was particularly amused at his own juvenile anguish sometimes and desperately wanted to share with the greenrider that yes, he had forgotten to apologize to one being, and that he felt bad. He felt bad that he never got to spend time with his father for the last few Turns of the man's life, and doubly bad that he was jealous of his brother for getting to do exactly that. He wanted to say this and share it like it was a funny little anecdote and that they would both laugh and have a grand ol' time giggling there in the dark about relatives and friends. But hey, he knew that wasn't how things too often turned out, and instead switched quickly over to the subject of wills and final wishes.
Because that was a much less morbid subject...
"On the edge of the desert eh? So you expect a night out here to kill us, but leave me with enough strength to drag your ass around?" K'sel wasn't exactly sure how privy he was to handling his dead friend for any longer than a passing moment - if that - but he did appreciate at very least the humor with which A'emi handled the situation. The brownrider suspected that with Pettahth's help he could hold up his end of the bargain and make quite the effective little welcome sign for the badlands, "All right, all right... I suppose it will be worth it if I even make a little bit off of the Genuine Hobo Artifacts business..." with a wistful chuckle he added, "I heard that kind of stuff if coming into vogue these days you know..." then he took a moment to contemplate his own fate. Certainly he had nothing quite as clever in mind, "As for myself, at least leave me with the things I've got on me... the rest you can have," he reached to feel for a feline tooth necklace around his neck, "I know someone who may get a little ticked by seeing her handiwork out on the market..."
Then again he didn't know. With some people it seemed like their wants and desires changed with the wind.
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Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
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Post by Avu on Jan 10, 2011 19:56:30 GMT -5
“Kill me, not you,” because this was clearly a point of utmost importance. He didn’t expect a dead K’sel to drag his equally dead self around come morning, he just thought it would be kind if a very much alive K’sel would drag his very much dead self around a little, that was all. “Thanks.” It was almost genuine; A’emi didn’t really like the idea of being a sun-bleached skull five hundred years into the future. He’d much rather be a sun-bleached skeleton dangling from a sign. (What, that wasn’t normal?) He smiled faintly into the darkness, slowly lapsing into a sleepy half-terrified frozen contentment. It was an odd feeling, to be sure. “Noted,” he agreed. “I’ll make sure you die in high fashion—some people work to look like they’ve been on the verge of dying of starvation and bug bites for weeks, we got it without even trying because that’s just how awesome we a—HOLY FUCK.”
The sudden shriek was the result of a sudden weight curling chokingly tight around his neck, the greenrider instinctively going for his knife with one hand, the other snapping upwards to peel off the whatever it was, his entire body jerking sideways in shock; he tipped almost off balance and managed to land half on top of K’sel, barely even registering that he was effectively using the brownrider to brace himself against his invisible assailant.
The minute he heard Darkling’s delighted twitters in his ear, A’emi actually whimpered in horror, curling in on himself as the dark green firelizard’s eyes shone bright blues, her body pressing against his neck in a show of gleeful affection; she’d made him screech so loudly. Funny, so funny. Her tail curled securely around his neck again, a contented happy sound in her throat. It had been some time since she’d managed to reduce A’emi into incoherency; he’d become mostly accustomed to her springing out at random and it was just easier to scare random people into screaming that didn’t have a mental link to her—but this. This was amazing. This would go down in history. She would have to share it with every firelizard, wild or not, that she knew—this could not possibly be forgotten, ever.
“Oh my fuck,” A’emi said after a minute after he’d scooted off of K’sel, voice muffled and his forehead pressed against his knees, curled in an upright fetal position, and he didn’t usually swear but he was allowed profanity right now, thanks, “I Impressed a monster. I can’t even—mmnghhh. Excuse me while I find myself a corner of this stupid desert so I can cry. And, uh, sorry. By the way. Oops.” Yeah, oops. Right. A’emi closed his eyes, inhaled deeply in an ineffective attempt at calming his heartbeat; the flash of adrenaline left him shivering slightly. As if he wasn’t already practically vibrating from the cold. He felt like he’d managed to inhale a week’s worth of caffeine or something. Thanks a lot, Darkling. He really appreciated it.
You’re alive, and the fact that Kyrahth had even decided to bespeak him at all after her previous ‘good night’ wishes meant that the green had to have been frantic with worry at the sharp spike of fear. A’emi grimaced against his knees; he hadn’t meant for her to feel that but then…well, he’d been fairly sure he was about to die. He wasn’t particularly focused on his mental shields at the minute. Another oops for the record books. You’re alive— and then, just when he thought he might get a concerned, loving, upset green, Why are you so STUPID?
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Lotty
Shiny Hoarder
Rider Mi?rah Rider K?sel Rider Osnat Healer Raebeli
Posts: 1,020
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Post by Lotty on Jan 11, 2011 23:29:37 GMT -5
Mortification!
Just the sound of A'emi's voice soar in a sudden discordant cry was enough to put the brownrider on red alert and any moment of reflection or contemplation he may have been on the verge of was abandoned as he reached forward for the torch; his new makeshift club and an easier reach than his knife. At very least he could bludgeon the attacker to death, but what he didn't expect was to be virtually smashed in the process. Worse yet was that in the darkness, he was unaware that it was even the greenrider that had landed on top of him. He was clearly the target of a second assailant, and his displeasure was made known in a loud, hair raising, death howl. Banging his fist against the ground his eyes locked with the other man's as he let loose his, "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
Processing the situation - oh it was just A'emi - didn't do anything to calm his heart and the yell morphed until it was the greenrider's name that he was yelling, "AHHHHHHHEEEEEEEMMMMMMMIIIIII!" Cut off by a lack of breath the brownrider began panting frantically and shoving the other man off as a result of the shock, an action he immediately regretted as the man was reminded by how unapologetically cold it was outside, he honestly wouldn't have minded keeping close for warmth at this point. A hand caught his chest as he tried to lull his heart back into it's normal rhythm, "Oh shit. Oh man. Oh sweet baby Faranth in her golden cracked egg...." he finally rolled over onto his stomach and covered his face.
As if summoned by the spirit of mischief itself, Mojo flickered in from between to silently land on K'sel's back. He felt his whole body try to jolt out of his skin again with a cut off gasp before the bronze bounced off to flute at Darkling. It was a most marvellous prank it was, and he would be sure to retell the legend to fair after fair of firelizards. Being quite the prankster himself, the bronze deeply approved of the younger flit's little act. In fact, he was bowled over by it in awe, and not to be outdone, started plotting all kinds of little tricks he could pull on his in the near future. Not to mention.... ah yes, Mojo's eyes swirled with a rainbow of color as he took to the air and swirled around the riders' heads... Darkling and he... they should be partners.
Mine.... K'sel? Are you alright? ..... Do not give me the silent treatment. "Words, I have none..." he said aloud to the dragon and his companion alike as he rolled onto his back again. This was all too ridiculous, which could be expressed no better way than the total speechlessness that had come over him of all people. He couldn't even blurt his typical mouthiness or curse all the firelizards on Pern. It was all behind him... for the first time in his life he thought that he might die.... killed by a revenge bent ghost. Instead they were merely out to embarrass and humiliate the snot out of the two of them.
"So we agree to never talk about this night ever again right?"
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Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
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Post by Avu on Jan 12, 2011 16:04:17 GMT -5
It took a minute for him to make sure he wasn’t having a heart attack, but something about Mojo’s appearance and the very vivid memory of terror had A’emi’s shoulders shaking in laughter. It progressed into outright hysteria, the greenrider rocking slightly in his little pathetic pit of sand, forehead against his knees and silent laughter choking in his throat until he was actually crying of laughter. He shivered, panting for breath and control, hands curling over his ribs and pressing flat across his own abdomen. It was starting to hurt to laugh, but it had just struck A’emi how unbearably, ridiculously foolish they probably sounded (and looked) and ohgod, he could absolutely not stop laughing. He finally took a shuddering inhale, flopped flat back into the sand, sending Darkling a-wing with a faintly indignant squeak, and carefully inhaled again.
“Dude,” his voice was breathless and choked and sounded kind of like he was crying, but then, he also kind of was. He raised one hand to press the heel of his palm into his eyes. It had been a long time since he’d laughed so hard he’d cried. Hm. Said something for hysteria, didn’t that. “Man—this never ever ever happened.” Except that it had and A’emi was so horrified with himself that he wasn’t. “We spent all night fighting off felines in the dark, if anyone asks. With rocks. And won, because,” he paused to catch his breath, voice still strained from laughing, “Because—because, that’s what manly men are supposed to do, right? Wrestle giant kittens—oh, man, seriously. In like, fifty years, we’ll look back upon this fateful night and laugh ourselves stupid, I swear.”
Orrr they could go ahead and do it right now, as previously demonstrated. Or they could wait fifty years and then continue to turn bright red whenever the mention of ghosts came up, because, again: That was what manly men did, right? A’emi made a sound in his throat that sounded kind of like the hybrid of a whimper of humiliation and a giggle, took another shuddering breath, and turned still-watering eyes to the sky.
Focus on the stars, A’emi. They aren’t laughing at you, you see? The whole world does not, after all, get off on your humiliation. There, doesn’t that make everything better? (No, it actually didn’t. A’emi was sure that everything sentient was laughing its ass off at them right about now, so having something that was not actually alive not laughing didn’t really mean much. But sure, the stars aren’t laughing even if they’re watching. Creeper stars. Awesome. Why was everything funny?) Probably because of Darkling. He would just blame Darkling because Darkling was very…blame-able. She was laughing. And preening. On his chest, shamelessly, like she’d just managed to throw up the cure to cancer on accident or something.
At least Mojo’s appearance stopped her from that.
A’emi would be considerably less grateful to the bronze if he knew just why Darkling had stopped her preening, of course, but he didn’t, so all was right with the world. The green firelizard instead flared her wings, sitting up on his chest and tilting her head coyly to the side in consideration. Partners. Hmm. She’d never had a partner in crime before, unless you counted A’emi, which she didn’t purely because she pranked him as much as she did anybody else, if not more, sooooo…of course. Approved much of Mojo, did Darkling; they would make beautiful partners and the entire world would cower in fear of where they would pop up next to commit their pranks. Smugly, the green hummed approval at Mojo. They would be partners, and Theirs would never feel safe sleeping again.
This would be fantastic.
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Lotty
Shiny Hoarder
Rider Mi?rah Rider K?sel Rider Osnat Healer Raebeli
Posts: 1,020
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Post by Lotty on Jan 16, 2011 18:47:45 GMT -5
At very least, he could give a good hearty laugh before putting his own humorous spin on their situation, "Yes, in fifty turns as we age gracefully in our wooden rocking chairs we will raise our canes in excitement and tell of our feline hunting exploits to the weyrbrats who, mind you, will all look suspiciously like our once upon a time Weyrleader S'rei. With hair growing in our ears and age spots forming on our wrinkly asses, we will never... ever... ever mention ghosts in the form of our demonic little flitterbys..."
And that was that... in the turns to come they will now have a script by which to follow whenever they were asked about their adventures. As far as K'sel was concerned he was going to claim some post traumatic stress from it all and continue his streak of negative brooding, whispering that he left the weyr a man, came back as a monster, or that he didn't follow his dreams, he stalked them. Both would of the lines made perfectly good hooks for a novel based upon his life and the lies he was going to disseminate upon the children of the weyr. Well, this was all assuming that he was going to make it back alive. The queasy sounds of his stomach were reminding him that it had been a good while since he had eaten anything really, and well he very much looked like a contestant on some kind of Pernese version of Survivor. Not that his company was doing all that much better. He felt some consolation in the fact that he was not alone.
Curling up for warmth, he sighed, while trying to ignore the annoying chatter of the firelizards around them. Mojo was all too pleased with the agreement that he and Darkling had come to, and in the darkness broke out his all too creepy imitation of a human chuckle. Just the type of thing to send the chills down K'sel's spine all over again, before the sound ceased and the bronze - nothing more than a blackish, ambiguous mass out there - decided to land there next to the green whether that meant landing on the rider's chest or not. With an evil sort of creel he uncurled his long tail out in search of hers as if to shake on the deal. Partners... cue the imaginary lightning bolts and thunder.
One thing still bothered the brownrider though. Of course Darkling had managed to collectively scare the pants off of them, but, still where did all those sounds they heard originate? And the wind... how could a gust so strong knock the light right out of their hands and then... not even a breeze licked against his bare skin? Baffled, the dark haired man mused, "So uhm... are you still kind of wondering what the deal is with all of those noises... and the wind? Because firelizards only account for so much..." and if they discovered how to control the weather, well then they had much larger problems than ghosts.
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Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
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Post by Avu on Jan 16, 2011 19:32:03 GMT -5
A’emi managed a breathless laugh at K’sel’s addendum, the sound trailing into a sigh that was, if not content, at least resigned to a night in the desert minus the company of ghosts. His arms folded under his head, a vague attempt at a semi-comfortable pillow, A’emi tucking his legs under himself. It was a decidedly awkward position, but he was trying to balance warmth and comfort, here, and it was kind of really hard with a rock digging into his spine, two firelizards on his chest, and the fact that it was still freezing cold out here. He squirmed slightly, retracted one arm from under his head to grope awkwardly at the blob he thought was Darkling, managed to run almost-numb fingers down her back in a gesture that was absently affectionate, even if she had managed to scare the living daylights out of him not long ago. He forgave her.
Or at least, he would pick a better time to harbor a grudge. Like, when he could see, and Darkling was not at a ridiculously huge advantage. As it was, the green only spared him a brief croon before she swung her tail out to meet Mojo’s, curling the two together and pumping up and down in a mimicry of a human handshake, a decisive, delighted motion. Partners forever and always; the world would soon hear of their misdeeds. Darkling gave a chirrup that was decidedly too sweet for comfort, leaning forward to brush her head over Mojo’s shoulder in pleased approval. They would have to get plotting as soon as possible if they wanted their reputation to spread…and of course they could arrange something with wild firelizards that hung around, right? She was sure they could come in handy when it came to scaring Theirs. And—
The planning was interrupted. A’emi sat bolt upright, leaving Darkling to claw at his shirt before she squawked in dismay and vanished between again, presumably to somewhere that was more stable and less prone to earthquakes, so to speak. A’emi didn’t notice her going; instead he peeled off his jacket and whipped it as hard as he could at the larger K’sel-blob’s head, huffing indignantly, “Don’t even go there, man, it was totally a freaky nature thing. Or a couple of stupid owls who thought we were crawlers or something, we’re not ghost-hunting until it’s day and we can see and we won’t get frostbite in the middle of a desert.” He paused for moment to consider, and then added, “And maybe not even then.”
He punctuated the rant with a very visible shiver, flopping back into a prone position over the sand, winced and shifted sideways as he fell right back onto that stupid rock. Another momentary pause, and then he added, a little more plaintively, “Can I have my jacket back?”
He probably should’ve thought through the whole flinging-clothes thing a little more, but really. And—you know what, “So, uh, dude. Seeing how this never happened and all…” Hum, how exactly was he supposed to propose this. “You know, what with heat transfer and all, we’re going to be icicles by morning but…” He nudged out with one foot until he could kick K’sel lightly, “You’re warm. Ish. Warmer than the sand, I mean. We could. You know.” A’emi waved a hand between the two of them demonstratively, hedging, “Stay warm. Warmer. I don’t know about total warmth but…” Since they were never going to speak of it again. And since he was about to burrow into the sand in an attempt to get warm and A’emi was sure that wasn’t going to turn out well. “Yeah?”
It would’ve been much easier if he could’ve just propositioned K’sel, honestly. Why was it that that was so much easier than suggesting…this?
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