And from your lips she drew the hallelujah (Els)

[Avu]

You know what they say don’t you, about things that go bump in the night? Sparath flicked his tail, wings flicking out to dance shadows onto the ground at his feet. The bronze dragon was half-oiled, a trickle of it running down his shoulder; he rumbled, voice dropping secretively, Don’t follow the light Minething, it leads to the deepest parts of the mire and then when you step wrong poof! You’re done forrr… He rolled the r out as long as he could hold it, Or you pull yourself up and come back like a mud monster and the villagers are ever so terrified and slaughter you thinking you’re the Mud Thing. It’s a very peculiar situation Minething, isn’t it.

“That’s not the only thing that goes bump in the night,” Ce’thian pointed out, and reached up to tug on Sparath’s riding straps, pulling the bronze’s head down to wipe off the streak of oil. “You’re very selectively knowledgeable. I thought you wanted to actually be serious,” he added, slapping an oily palm against Sparath’s cheek to shove him away when the bronze aimed a lick at his face. The man was sitting in the Weyrbowl, half-shaded by a large rock and completely shaded by Sparath, long legs arranged into a crossed position with one foot hitched up into his opposite knee half-heartedly.

Oh yes thaaaat, Sparath drawled. I guessss. Well there’s just the Council, you know. Isn’t Romeoth a lucky baby, bright new thing and everyone’s favorite pretty face of the week? It wasn’t construed to be an insult; very few things with Sparath were. Should talk to his humanthing, Wasteland and all. He dropped his head into Ce’thian’s lap without aplomb, searching for the oiling to continue. And that other one, the one that looks all green. Hag-something, isn’t it. Betcha he’ll be pushing too.

Mouth twitched into a grin as Ce’thian rubbed oil into the rugged curve of Sparath’s head knobs. “Mm.” Noncommittal. “Crude, Spara. You don’t talk to other people like this, I hope.” He pushed at the bronze’s head to make him shift, and ran his fingers down the hollow of Sparath’s throat. “Go on,” he added, “Keep on with your monsters. You’re snobby when you’re after bronzes, you know. And if monsters are supposed to be some subliminal comparison, you’ll have to be clearer.”

He lifted his head just as Sparath snuffled into his shirt and rolled over, and—hey. There was a green he recognized. Ce’thian poked Sparath on the snout, nodded. “Sister of yours.”

[Rei]

Dressed in a loose shirt and a pair of ragged and frayed looking pants with her hair tied back into a runner tail, from which a few loose and unruly strands had already escaped, Elysia wasn’t looking her very best. Though even in her state of current dress there was nothing about her that was off-putting. She was graceful and beautiful as ever. Or perhaps that was mostly Onyth’s biased point of view. Hers never appeared to be anything other then completely beautiful to the dragon. Strong. Graceful. Perfect. If a little bratty. The greenrider raised an eyebrow at her dragon as she finished sanding the green’s back and slipped off her. “You going to admire me looking like a hot mess all day or are you going to make yourself useful and actually rinse? I can’t oil you all sandy.” The woman remarked with a hand on her hip as she used the other one to make a shooing motion at her dragon.

Are you sure you do not have a fever? You normally drink in compliments. Onyth teased lightly as she rose and slid into the water. Elysia snorted and dipped a rag into the bucket of oil near her feet. “I feel perfectly fine. Now hurry up and rinse.” The green rumbled in amusement as she dipped beneath the surface of the lake and then exploded out of it flaring her wings and flinging water in large drops all around the area. “Hey! Watch it.” The benden woman exclaimed as she tried to sidestep most of the downpour, some of it raining down on her despite her best attempts to prevent it.

“You keep that up and I won’t oil you or your shiny couch ever again.” Idle threats Minelove. You wouldn’t neglect me and you like oiling Salenth. Impressive beast isn’t he? The dragon asked hers smugly as she exited the water and flicked her tail. Elysia snorted. “He’d be more impressive if there was less of him to oil.” She grumbled as she moved over to the green and climbed up onto her again to start applying the oil to her back, concentrating on her wing joints first. "Besides you are horribly biased and you know it."

Onyth half lidded her eyes in contentment and gazed lazily around the weyrbowl, taking in the scenery, before her gaze fixed on one pair in particular. Tilting her head she spoke in an almost curious tone. That bronze is here today. “What bronze?” Her rider returned in a slightly distracted tone. The one with the rider you avoid as if he has the plague. “You’ll have to be more specific then that I’m afraid.” The one who you remember from the other place. “Again Ony. There are quite a few I know from…” The bronze with the silvery markings. That got Elysia’s attention and her gaze moved from Onyth across the bowl to where the bronze pair was sprawled.

“Ce’thian. Yes.” Going back to her work the woman tried to push down the flood of memories. Memories of a dorky fifteen year old boy with a kind smile and even softer words. Comforting her without even asking where she got the bruises, puppy dog like trotting by her side at lessons, making her laugh even when she didn’t feel like laughing. Then he had impressed. Bronze. Betrayed her. He was one of them. To Elysia's young mind it had been the ultimate irony. The very world taking and destroying whatever small friendship she had stupidly allowed herself to have. And so she had spurned Ce'thian. Acted like he was no more then a wraith. She hadn’t seen him for turns. Heard his name but….she hadn’t gone looking to see if the rumors were true. Partially because, though she wouldn't admit it even to herself, she had maybe been wrong to treat him as she had.

But all Onyth chose to take from the flood of memories was the fact that she knew the bronze once upon a time. A sibling in fact? That was curious enough to her to warrant further investigation and before Elysia could prevent it the green had already reached out to the bronze, her tone pleasant. He was looking right at her after all. Would it not be rude to ignore him? Good afternoon Sparath. It seems ours have the same idea today no? The green’s tail tip flicked across the ground as her rider immediately smacked the oily rag against the dragon's shoulder in frustration and hissed. “Did you have to do that?”

Why yes. Yes she did.

[Avu]

So neutral Minething…sister of mine, classmate of yours? Purring, teasing. Sparath didn’t have any boundaries when it came to Ce’thian, after all. Or something more, something like love? Oh fickle affections, Minething, did you liiiike her? The bronze made no show of looking towards Onyth, head inclined towards Ce’thian as he studied green and Rider. Were you sooo terribly shy you never even spoke to her? Did you stutter Minething? You could have used one of your awful pickup lines, how do they go again, something about concavities…

“Sparath.” Affectionately, absently exasperated, Ce’thian’s fingers slowed on bronze hide, the man glancing sideways at the greenpair again. No doubt Elysia’s presence was accidental; he hadn’t been this close to her since Weyrlinghood and that was by necessity. After that…well, she’d been scarce. Deliberately, Ce’thian suspected, so sure, he’d let her be scarce. Couldn’t imagine that she’d changed her mind over fifteen years later just because. “If you don’t remember anything, how d’you figure you didn’t alienate Onyth by being a dick of epic proportions?”

Becaussse, Minething, /she/’s talking to /me/, Sparath answered smugly, Can’t help but notice your forget-me-not lovely isn’t. He flipped his tail, spreading out onto his belly to tilt his head at Onyth with a flash of blue in his gaze, a flutter of his wings. Sister dearest… rumbled pleasantly to the green, So it seems…such a happy accident, no? They’re being ever so awkward aren’t they…so impolite of Minething to ignore your lovely. Come along Minething, including Ce’thian now with a devious undertone, I spy company, and it’s been soooo very long hasn’t it?

“Your face is long,” Ce’thian grumbled at him, and then, more seriously, “Sparath. This isn’t something that you can fix by being obnoxious.” He was pretty sure Sparath was the one that had broken it, indirectly, by being bronze instead of blue or brown. If it wasn’t that, then he hadn’t the faintest idea how what it had been, and that made it just as impossible to fix as dying Sparath blue permanently. “And don’t tell me ‘I can fix anything’ because no, you can’t, you’re probably the most accidentally destructive dragon I’ve ever met.”

Which did not actually stop Sparath from rolling to his feet and practically prancing over to Onyth, ridiculously half-oiled. Ce’thian blinked after the bronze, huffing in resignation. He’d never intended to push this—this thing because hey, drama was one thing he did not need, and Sparath had never been struck with inspiration to push it for him until now. Apparently he was usually very good at forgetting Elysia, provided she did not actually invade his range of vision. Which, also apparently, she was very good at not doing, up until now.

The bronzerider stood, wiping oily hands on his pants, and followed in Sparath’s wake.