My Valuable Hunting Knife [Opennnnnn]

[Lotty]

It was hard to tell sometimes if K'sel was fighting his way through the illness or just drunk. To be honest the weyrling didn't know what he was either, but he'd rather err on the side of drunk, since in stubborn determination he refused to believe that he, Ka-sharding-ella, could come down with this imaginary disease. Statistically speaking, the chances of him not catching the ailment were slim to none, after all he cuddled with the afflicted. He looked at the risks and gave it a lewd gesture before diving straight into the sickness; sharing close space with Nephele the other night was not the wisest of choices...but in truth...he already had it anyway. She just made for an excellent scapegoat.

The mornings were filled with punches from that bottle he hid under his cot, just enough to cure the gulps from the night before. The drinks he used to mask that deep bone ache and to explain the spinning room and late night sweats. He swaggered about the weyrling barracks, going about his business in a drone like way, excusing himself from his dragon's bath to hurl in the latrines or lay down for a moment on his bed again; the sheets were still festering with disease. By midday he was functioning again...it was just a hangover...that was all it was...

But without having had a bite to eat, he decided that he was quite hungry and in his confusion, in his sickness, in his drunkenness, whichever reason you want to lay the blame on, he had stumbled his way down to the the feeding grounds, probably not the safest location for him to be in, but he had himself convinced that as long as Pettahth was with him, then he couldn't be mistaken for an arrogant wherry, which was much more common than you would think!

The before mentioned dragon was right behind him, every step of the way, there for the boy to prop himself up against, and much too concerned about his rider's welfare to worry about feeding himself...take one eye off of the black haired youth he called His and there would be trouble...and what do you know? There he was being a stupid little man, brandishing his knife. What is it that you think you are doing little man?

"Hunting," he held out the knife in front of his face, admiring the gleam, rubbing the large wooden grip. This knife had killed people... he mused to himself as he twisted it in the light, picking up his reflection in the broad blade. Being the innately practical type, he was never one to do this, never one to use the family heirloom for anything but it's purposes. He normally wasn't such a showoff. He normally was a little more sane too. Put that away! You are going to hurt yourself stupid!

He snapped around - any faster and he would have fallen over from dizziness - pointing the end of his blade at the dragon, "You are NOT my mother!" His attention turned back to a far off huddle of herdbeast. They would taste good? He played with his knife again, plotting how he would get one of those on his dinner plate....him and his valuable hunting knife...

[Avu]

MineLove?
What is it, Qui?

The green dragon circled the Feeding Grounds, each stroke of her wings steady as she cocked her head first to one side, and then to the other, before crooning in confusion again. Her hide was not lacking in brilliance, the emerald green shades flawless – there was no denying that Tr’esn spent an inordinate amount of time oiling and bathing her, something he did less out of necessity and more out of seeking a distraction from the disease sweeping through the Weyr nowadays. Neither Vashti nor K’iel had fallen ill, and nor had M’ta, but R’wign had, and that thought terrified Tr’esn. He wasn’t strong – physically; the greenrider doubted his immune system was very strong, either. He’d had his fair share of diseases back at Lighttower Hold – ranking as a Drudge did that: The menial labor certainly wasn’t conductive to good health. Tr’esn, thus, would have been happy to curl up in a corner of his weyr and hide, but he needed to eat. Avia needed to eat. Moth needed to eat. Oquith needed to eat. And Dolphin needed to be found; the green whersport had vanished and Tr’esn suspected that she was about to Run or Fly or whatever whersports did. As long as she didn’t bring back any eggs, he was fine with that. If she did, he’d drop them on K’iel and Vashti.

I don’t – what is he doing, Tr’esnLoveMine? He doesn’t…I don’t understand –
Who’s doing what? Tr’esn replied, utterly bewildered. His eyesight wasn’t as good as Oquith’s, after all, and her neck was in his line of vision anyway. A pause, and then – Aren’t you going to hunt?[/i] the greenrider asked. The dragon crooned beneath him and then dropped, circling down slowly until she was only a few dragonlengths above the ground. Her tail flipped in confusion and she crooned loudly to Pettahth. She couldn’t recall if she’d ever met the brown before, but chances were she hadn’t; Oquith was usually a shy creature and tended to stay in the company of those she knew more than those she didn’t. Her tongue flicked out anxiously before the green backwinged to land. Very neatly, she could maneuver; Oquith was nothing short of graceful when it came to landing because she’d practiced it so many times. Twisting turns and other aerial maneuvers, however, tended to elude the green, but she’d take what she could get. Lowering her neck to the ground to allow Tr’esn to slip off, the green shot a curious look at Pettahth and His.

Excuse me, the green said softly to Pettahth, nervously, I hope you don’t mind – but – but what’s Yours doing? Is he…human people don’t eat the herdbeast here, do they? Does he want one? I could get one for him…? Oquith bounced for a moment before she turned to appraise the herds, eyes falling onto an elderly-looking, thin herdbeast. She was hungry, after all; she could talk to Pettahth while she was eating, surely? The green was a merciful killer: She struck quickly and efficiently, fast enough that the herds would not be sent into a full-out panic and would calm quickly, and picked off the weaker creatures instead of the fat, young ones; a swift pounce took her onto the back of an older one and she dragged it back to Pettahth and K’sel, depositing it a dragonlength or so away and then flopping gracelessly onto her stomach with a soft hopeful croon. There – she’d done right, hadn’t she?

Tr’esn, however, stayed farther back, staring blankly at K’sel. The brownweyrling was not a particular friend of his (actually, Tr’esn didn’t even know his name or the first thing about him), and people with knives were generally scary people. He tended to stay away, but…Oquith was confused and curious and he was, too, a little. He’d just…watch. Carefully, from a distance, because…well, he didn’t want to be chopped up into little tiny pieces and he was socially awkward at best. Oquith could handle it…his eyes dropped to the herdbeast that Oquith was nudging at curiously, and then he jumped visibly, nearly tripping in his surprise, as a gust of cold air and an excited chatter announced the arrival of Avia. The green firelizard darted past him, pausing only to trail her tail affectionately against his cheek and jaw, before she slammed into the herdbeast, nearly flipping herself clear over it in her enthusiasm, and began to tear into the tender stomach, crooning through mouthfuls up at Oquith and then at Pettahth and K’sel. Shameless, who, Avia?

[Lotty]

Pettahth was much more relieved to see others than he would ever let on. Finally, someone to bear witness to this insanity, someone to back up his claims of K'sel's odd behavior. But when he bugled a greeting at the green it was rather neutral, not too excited, because frankly it was a little embarrassing that all he could do was stand helplessly as the weyrling continued to make a fool out of himself, light flickering off of the edge of the freshly whetted blade as he tried twirling around the knife in his hand. It was a wonder that the boy hadn't managed to cut himself open doing this, but even if he did, would K'sel be lucid enough to notice? Or would red blood stains just prove to be another piece of flair to add to his wardrobe? The brown was sure maroon would compliment those dark eyes nicely, but please let us be careful for a change!

Greetings... the dragon started, he could be so horribly formal at times, especially with those he was unaccustomed to, but he was convinced that a little politeness here and there would go a long way, I don't....K'selmine believes that he is hunting... He looked down, by now K'sel was crawling about in the taller grass, trying to stalk the herdbeast despite being much too far away from them for the creatures to ever take notice. His knife was clenched between his teeth. He looked like a regular Rambo... but before Pettahth could look back over to Oquith, she was gone and dispatching a lame beast and even bringing it back over to where they were. How nice....

K'sel. Get off the ground! They brought a herdbeast to you. You don't need to hunt now. The dragon stomped at the ground around his bonded, in reply he got another sharp glare. How dare the brown disturb his hunt! It was bad enough he was already at an advantage...having wings and teeth and talons and all. He lethargically pulled himself up, only far enough sit on his rump and to take a peek at the others who had gathered. Who were these people? Unfortunately, he had something of a bad filter on his words in his current state. Removing his knife he grumbled quite loudly, "What do you want? Can't you tell that I'm hungry?" His brain flickered back and forth out of it's stupor, and he took his eyes off Oquith and company to look down at the slaughter. It was just a little bit weird to eat without cooking it first wasn't it? There was a certain nagging feeling that told him that maybe he shouldn't have been there. Regardless he didn't want charity. He wanted his own herdbeast. He wanted the biggest herdbeast, because he had the biggest appetite. Throwing up all morning did a number on his stomach.

"My hunt is utterly ruined..." he said to the greenrider. He must have belonged to the green that Pettahth had been talking to. He wiped away some sweat onto his sleeve, and continued to hang onto that sharding knife like it was his life, "nice kill..." he said in reference to Oquith's own hunt, before attempting to introduce himself. Names were so funny. He couldn't remember for the life of him why he had two, and which one to use when. Was he still Kasella? Hmmm, "I'm K'sel?" Sounded good.

[Avu]

Um, um…what?

Oquith gave a low confused croon as she stared at K’sel, before the green sprawled out on her stomach and rested her chin on the ground, staring in avid curiosity after the brownweyrling. Clearly…clearly something was wrong. You just didn’t see people hunting. Not in the Feeding Grounds; they were too little (Tr’esnHers especially) and the herdbeasts were too big and they would get squashed and hurt and that was so terribly painful. And the Infirmary was so full of sick people nowadays, too. The green’s tail swept back and forth across the ground, the herdbeast abandoned between her forepaws. Only Avia seemed to express any interest in it; Oquith had been officially distracted by K’sel and showed no signs of returning to her meal anytime soon. Um…what was she supposed to do, exactly…? She’d never seen a human hunt, and despite herself, she wanted to see. Was that terribly wrong? She crooned reassuringly to Pettahth, not even quite sure why she did so – all she knew that if Tr’esnHers decided to ‘hunt’ spontaneously, she’d be worried. So…so Pettahth might be, too. Right?

I thought humans hunted in the kitchens, the green commented, nudging the dead herdbeast absently with her nose. At least, that is what MineTr’esn does all the time and he never goes hungry. And…humans cook their food, don’t they? It was very odd to see a human with blood dripping out of their mouth, it was. Oquith had never seen any, nope. Is Yours – does he – is he special that he hunts, is it normal? I don’t – I have never /seen/ him trying to hunt /before/… Had she seen him and forgotten? But hrnn; seems she would’ve remembered something that…out of place. Even if she hadn’t, surely HerLove would have? Her head tilted at an angle and she stared with rapidly whirling eyes at K’sel as the brownrider turned to look at them and then…oh. Humans only talked like that when they were angry, didn’t they? Did that mean she’d done something wrong? Agitation flashed into her gaze and Oquith whined softly, crawling backwards on her belly in order to look at K’sel from a safe distance.

The weyrlingrider’s comment made Tr’esn scurry forwards till he was level with Oquith’s head; one hand touched the green’s eye ridges uncertainly before he blinked twice, confusion written across his face as he shrugged one shoulder helplessly. “Isn’t – shouldn’t – the kitchens would probably be a better place to…to hunt,” he suggested softly, before he glanced sideways at Oquith and Avia. The latter twittered happily at K’sel, and then snatched another bite off of the herdbeast’s entrails – a little hole had been burrowed directly to the insides, from which Avia was happily eating. The sight made Tr’esn’s stomach flop over; that his adorable little green was capable of such an attack on a herdbeast was always bewildering. Averting his eyes back to K’sel, he added, “I’m…I’m Tr’esn.” Probably not a good idea to comment that the other didn’t seem too sure about his own identity; was something wrong with him? The thought alarmed Tr’esn and he edged a step sideways, pressing his leg against Oquith’s neck.

Dragonriders were never insane. No. Their Bondeds kept them from that, or if they did go insane…the dragon went between, didn’t they? But…they did become delirious. Qui, ask Pettahth if His…K’sel, I mean, is feeling…okay? I don’t – he – I don’t like knives. The uncomfortable, lame explanation was to keep Oquith from panicking; if the green thought that Tr’esnHers was in danger of becoming sick, likely she would have fled with him: There was nothing she feared more. The green crooned anxiously at K’sel; the compliment to her hunting was acknowledged with a soft snort – and then she bespoke Pettahth again. I don’t – MineLove wants to know if Yours feels okay? He does not like knives very much; it worries him that Yours is trying to hunt… Because humans didn’t hunt. They just didn’t.

[Lotty]

Pettahth. These people are weird. He mentioned to the dragon, staring at the others in his odd, feverish gaze; bags under his eyes and red shot through the whites. The irony goes without saying. K'sel looked like hell, and was acting like an uncivilized caveman. Which, oddly made sense considering he so often championed the idea of nobility in embracing primal behaviors, that being said he had never before tried to hunt herdbeast or roll around in the grass like a disabled feline. Well, at least not since he was about seven turns old, but he and his friends were pretending, and right now he honestly thought that this was the only solution to his hunger issue.

The brown didn't share the same sentiments. These two, Tr'esn and Oquith, were perfectly normal. It was K'sel that was acting weird...and that was a bit of an understatement. Pettahth knew that something was not right with his, he had shared - on a level - his bonded's dizziness and sensed the bouts of nausea he had been dealing with. That wasn't even mentioning the cough. It wasn't quite as frequent as some of the other's afflicted, but it had that same fluid marred crackle; a sound that came from the lungs...but the boy would still say he was perfectly fine, so what exactly was Pettahth going to say to Oquith? It seemed a little like betrayal to spill the beans, but then if it was the only way to help? He rumbled softly, which was the closest thing he could come to a sigh.

No need to be afraid of him... the green's recoil from K'sel was not lost on him, he is normally rather... well, peaceful wasn't the term, tame wasn't quite right either, harmless. He eats in the kitchen...cooked food. I have never seen him act this way before. Eyes whirled with a bit of worry for His, he wasn't going to stay this way right? Miserable was a state that His usually was in, but Pettahth wouldn't approve of this.

I do not think mine is doing so well... the boy was whirling around in place, grinning, but so sore, so achy, hardly able to sit up, fiddling with his knife still, and refusing to put it away. Why should he be the one unarmed? K'sel! Put away the knife! It is making everyone uncomfortable. K'sel sneered defiantly, "Why should I? What is their problem with my knife?" Then realizing that he could ask directly instead of through a middle man he re-worded his question, unafraid to offend anyone, "Why should I put my knife away? You're not a wherry. I'm not out to get you...we could even be friends." Or did they just want him vulnerable? Were they enemies? He looked at them through squinted sight, mouth twisting as he examined them, they didn't look like Benden...

[Avu]

He /says/ that His is harmless, Oquith reported, the note of uncertainty in her voice and the wave of the same emotion making it apparent that the green was not entirely sure that what Pettahth had said was true. Oh, maybe he hadn’t intended to lie, but he’d said normally and – and, well, Oquith didn’t think this was what His normally acted like. She never saw why dragons would pick anyone except Hers (and Vashti, K’iel, R’wign, and M’ta, but that was beside the point) but surely no dragon would pick a…a crazy person. Because that just didn’t work. It was…they surely wouldn’t be allowed to Stand, even, and if she remembered correctly, Millieth’s last clutch (her mother’s; Pettahth was her half-brother, a fact that Tr’esn knew and understood and Oquith just knew) hadn’t gone up into the Stands at all, so…he had been Standing, and surely he hadn’t been crazy then. Surely. The green’s tail flicked uncertainly, before she turned her head to lick Tr’esn, as reassuringly as she could – the greenrider was still blatantly staring at K’sel’s knife.

Meat-breath. Meat-breath, meat-breath, not good…

Tr’esn twitched visibly, glancing up at Oquith before he smiled weakly at the green, aware she was trying to make him feel better. Which was more than K’sel or Pettahth were doing, to be honest. Probably because he trusted Oquith much more than he did either brown or Rider, but…still. He rubbed his arm against Oquith’s neck absently, and then wound his arm around the green’s upper neck before he squeezed and then released her; the green’s head rose and she crooned quietly at K’sel again, not quite sure what to reply to Pettahth as Tr’esn edged forward until he was level with the dead herdbeast so he could stoop and scoop up Avia who, upon gorging happily, had flopped contentedly on top of the dead creature, burping cheerfully to herself. She was smeared with blood, and Tr’esn cautiously wiped it off of her body before cocking his head and twitching his nose curiously at K’sel.

The question made him blink twice, and both eyebrows rose uncertainly before he shrugged, letting Avia clamber onto his shoulder and drape herself there, as good as drunk. “I – um, friends would be nice,” he agreed, before he shrugged. “I just don’t – I don’t like knives; they…they hurt – are you – why are you hunting? Isn’t that – that’s your dragon’s job, hunting here…” His head bowed to hide the flush of confusion, and pale gray eyes flickered upwards towards K’sel. “I mean, shouldn’t you be in the kitchens if you’re hungry?” Surely the boy wasn’t just there on a dare or something? Trying to charge a herdbeast was not a good idea – decidedly so; just because they didn’t have claws didn’t mean they couldn’t hurt. “I don’t think this is safe,” he added, more firmly, indicating the herdbeasts with a wave of his hand. Or tried to be firm, anyway; Tr’esn had never been really good at that: He left authority to those who could back it up with rank, something he couldn’t do before and didn’t want to do now.

LoveMine and I would be accompany you and Yours, Oquith added helpfully, addressing K’sel directly; the green had absolutely no problem bespeaking people – a direct result of her chattering happily to Vashti and K’iel as often as she did Tr’esn and their dragons; she’d never understood why some dragons were so touchy about it and certainly she didn’t expect humans to be taken by surprise because of her. If you want us to, that is. I’m not so hungry I can’t wait. Humans are much more prone to hunger, I think, so I wouldn’t mind waiting for you to eat first. I think it would make Yours feel better. Made sense to her, see? It’d make her feel better if Hers was not hungry to the point of trying to stalk down a herdbeast. Surely it’d make Pettahth feel better too!

[Lotty]

K'sel wasn't crazy, not now and not when he stood for clutches. Of course being the weyrbred child he was, he never got formally searched...never got a stamp of approval from anyone. He reguarly passed a physical, but that was hardly much of a screening for mental health. He could have had a screw lose and gone unnoticed, but he didn't. Maybe a little cynical, maybe his attitude didn't give him the best odds in the books of the weyr's gamblers, but it was a good thing that their opinions didn't matter. He had Pettahth now, and he needed him, and the dragon was unconscious motivation to fight through the illness. He couldn't live with himself as the aging candidate as it was, if he were to come down with this then? Well, he'd be writhing on a mattress in the infirmary cursing Faranth and looking forward to his own demise. He had someone to impress now...funny how priorities change like that. He never thought he would ever change, but in this way he did. Little jerk was growing up after all, or we'd see if he survives.

Anyway, being that he was more than a little...disoriented, as opposed to insane, he could be one to reason with. It was a slow process taking in what Tr'esn had to say, and it was interrupted by wincing and a pair of fingers rubbing at his temples, but he was still listening. He began to ease his grip on the weapon, though still slightly weary of his newfound friends (well, as close as he could get to friends for the time being). K'sel even started putting it away, slowly into it's home on his belt. There was nothing sneaky about the brownweyrling in that regard, as popular as it may be to keep another blade up one's sleeve or in a boot, that was hardly his style. One was enough, and if it came down to needing another to pull out of reserves, he figured he was screwed anyway.

"I don't know..." he trailed off, why exactly was he here again? To eat? Why didn't he just go to the kitchen like the greenrider had said? Hmmm really makes you think. Especially since this was not the safest idea for him to be hanging out here. Why, oh why, would he try and take down one of those? He turned his head to look at the foreboding looking herd bull, and cringed at the thought of getting gouged by one of those outrageously large horns. He was jolted back into conversation by the green, though he was obviously used to speech from a dragon by now, he still never expected to be addressed by anyone other than Pettahth. It was nice to hear something different for a change...

"I suppose the kitchens are a good idea..." and he tried to get up, but his body just wasn't cooperating, It felt like he had grown into the weeds in the short time he had spent on the ground. The brown was right after all, even with the knife, K'sel was rather harmless. He probably couldn't have attacked if he wanted to. Pettahth crept forward and tried to coax his rider off the ground - poking him with his snout and projecting for all to hear, Get up, bag of bones. Get up! We're taking you to eat. The young man groaned irritably, "Give me a minute," before grabbing a hold of Pettahth's speckled nose and pulling himself up onto uneasy legs.

[Avu]

He didn’t look good. He really didn’t. Tr’esn blinked, fidgeting uncomfortably, and then bit his lip, one hand rising to paw at his hair, trying to get it out of the way. He’d started to cut some of it off, but Tr’esn hadn’t wanted to cut too much off and between Oquith and Avia informing him they liked his hair long, he’d ended up just pulling it back in a loose runnertail. Unfortunately, the strands were curly enough to look strange in a runnertail, not to mention that the front was still too short and hung in curling strands around his face, still occasionally obscuring his view. And with someone acting so weird, it made him…want to be able to see. Unfortunately, his hair seemed to have other plans…plans which were driving him crazy. The greenrider’s head tilted as he watched K’sel slowly sheath the knife, and he relaxed visibly, shoulders slumping momentarily, as soon as the brownrider’s hand left the hilt. Much, much better…even though he was still completely unarmed. Tr’esn didn’t carry weapons; they frightened him, especially after the Siege.

“Don’t…know…?” he repeated softly, the questioning note in his voice making it clear he was just as bewildered (if not more so) than K’sel himself was; he paused before he stared blankly at K’sel, watching in complete silence as the brownrider’s dragon pushed and poked at him a while, and then broadcasted. He barely reacted to the foreign voice in his mind, so accustomed was he to being bespoken – admittedly, those who addressed him were generally more soft-spoken, sweeter, familiar, but…it was still basically the same concept. He bit at his tongue, and then offered uncertainly, “I…Oquith could carry you, if you’d like…I don’t know – in her mouth? She’s…very careful. I mean, she slobbers a little, but…” She’d carried Tr’esn before, when she was in a hurry to get somewhere (though she knew he didn’t like it; the green was always most contrite afterwards), and once she’d snatched up K’iel in her mouth and dragged him to Weyrling Lessons – she wouldn’t mind carrying K’sel.

I could, Oquith agreed, still trying to be as helpful as she could, before she nudged at the dead herdbeast again. Best not to eat it if she’d be carrying people; then he’d complain about her breath and Oquith would be upset. (Hers said her breath already smelled like meat, but what could she do?) I would not hurt you, and you’d only get a little bit wet. I wouldn’t at all if I’d help it, but I can’t. She crooned again, and then nudged the herdbeast, her gaze falling on Pettahth, whirling rapidly. I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind if I take Yours. I don’t know – your Weyrling class – have you flown yet? If you want to wait here, it’d be quicker if I just flew him and you could eat too, she added, before she blinked, embarrassed pink tingeing her gaze. I mean, if you’d like me to, she added hastily, before she turned to nudge Tr’esnHers (very lightly; once when she’d nudged him too roughly he’d toppled over). I’d understand if you didn’t… She certainly didn’t want anyone carrying Hers anywhere; what if they stole him, after all?

Squirming forward on her belly, Oquith crooned, and then extended her nose towards K’sel, brushing her muzzle against his hand before she retracted it again, resting her chin upon the ground. Whirling eyes appraised the brownweyrling’s reaction anxiously; he certainly felt warm. Humans were not supposed to feel so warm, were they? How…scary; was that fever or was he just…baked because of the sun? Tr’esnMine… she started hesitantly, but the greenrider shook his head quickly, cutting her off: That one gesture made Oquith’s suspicions take actual form, and the green dragon flipped her tail in agitation before questioning of Pettahth: Yours – he is – is he sick? The Sick? It’s – the Sick – it got R’wignCheck’s, almost. Is it? Had this – she hadn’t – hadn’t let Hers chance becoming sick, had she? Scary, scary. Barely managing not to creel in distress, she plopped her head onto the ground and stared anxiously at K’sel. Please don’t be sick, please doooon’t…

[Lotty]

I can fly, after all, they were only but a month away from moving into their own. Wait. He should re-iterate. He could fly...and K'sel could craft some good straps. Yes, K'sel could be quite proficient at things when he put his mind to it, and besides, he came from a long line of dragonriders. It was practically the family craft! Despite this, the pair weren't exactly flight approved yet. Pettahth could stretch his wings and fly around all he wanted, but carrying his bonded was a different story. But I am still much too young to be carrying him around... so as much as the brown...and the boy were not too keen on the idea of a ride...in a mouth..that seemed like the only choice. Pettahth relented and agreed to the idea, urging K'sel to climb on in. Now be a good sport about all of this..

Hey, it's no big deal. All he would have to do is sit on a tongue. A slimy, wet, dragon tongue....what if he fell back? What if she suddenly swallowed? Or if she flinched for even a moment, those jaws could crush him. He pondered all the horrible possibilities, in stunning, morbid, detail as she examined him with her snout. He nearly keeled over when she made contact, he was hardly sturdy as a fit, young man should have been, but picturing yourself being eaten by a well meaning green dragon wasn't exactly helping his stomach settle down. Gross. Good thing there was nothing left in his stomach to yak up, maybe eating would be a disaster...but stew or crackers...that wouldn't be bad. So let's get this over with, if he died on the way there, then so be it. It was that way or getting gored by a raging herdbeast, and since when was fear of physical harm something that ever came into play for the guy?

He saw her rest her head against the ground and wondered what the big hold up was. Com'on! Let's go. If he didn't get his daily supply of potassium he'd die (or so he was told, but that was a completely different story). With heavy steps he closed the distance between himself and Oquith, nearly falling forward on top of her before literally knocking on her, as if she was a door. At least he was something of a gentle wrapping, "Let me in..." he called to her, "I wanna eat..." Was the kitchen relocated to her stomach now or something?

K'sel! What do you think you are doing?! The pair were now trading indignant glares and scoffs. For beings that shared a psychic connection, they had an awful lot of weird little communication break downs, "What does it look like I am doing? You told me to be good about this..." You just hit her in the face. Pettahth cut off his rider, he was just so embarrassing! This would be a matter that would be dealt with, the weyrling would not forget about what a little snot His was being. Fortunately, sickness could be used as an excuse as least, I am so sorry. I believe that mine is sick, yes. But maybe just a little bit? Can you just have a little bit of the Sick?

[Avu]

Ooh, so he could…er, couldn’t…could?...couldn’t, Oquith decided; couldn’t fly His around. Well then. She swished her tail idly across the ground, the tip flipping over in a dizzying whirl before Oquith curled it around her haunches again, still staring in something very much like panic at K’sel. Sick. Sick sick sick. That one word echoed in her mind, and the green almost backed away at that moment; certainly she didn’t want Hers getting anywhere near sick people. That he wasn’t as frightened as he had been before didn’t seem to register upon the green; she only knew how frantic she’d feel if Hers was sick and she knew she couldn’t do anything, and Pettahth – didn’t seem to be panicking. She would be panicking. Was that why browns were superior to greens? She didn’t think Checkoth had panicked – not really, not at the beginning, had he? If he had, she couldn’t remember it; she only remembered good things about her friends – and Pettahth wasn’t. How strange. The green made a thoughtful mrrp sound in the back of her throat, clearly nervous at the idea of picking someone she didn’t know up in her mouth and taking off with him. She wouldn’t hurt him, of course. He wouldn’t be comfortable, but he didn’t seem capable of actually vaulting to her neck, and this was the fastest way. So Hers wouldn’t have to be a temporary crutch. Because that…was bad.

The green almost jerked her nose back out of K’sel’s way out of pure instinct, and barely managed not to; she stared down at the boy in a blatant confusion before she crooned reassuringly at Pettahth, and offered uncertainly, I don’t – I think we should take him to the Infirmary. It would – it’s better. The Healers; they know. They can help. The green nosed curiously at K’sel again. I am sure they have food, she added (addressing K’sel this time as well as Pettahth; he’d be interested in food, wouldn’t he?), before she leaned down to nudge Tr’esnHers again, and said privately, licking his palm as she did so, I don’t want you coming to the Infirmary. I will take him alone, yes? Wait for me here, please, LoveMineTr’esn? The Avia will keep you company and if you’d like I can call Dolphin back. I don’t know – I think – that he will probably follow us. I would. She nudged at him once more before she lowered her head and carefully closed her teeth on the back of K’sel’s shirt, shifting until she felt the cloth actually snag on her teeth. She didn’t plan on dropping him, but…oh! An idea flicked through her mind (suggested helpfully by a vaguely amused Tr’esn) and Oquith crooned apologetically. Can you hold on if I put you on my back? I can. It would be more comfortable…

…oops?

Tr’esn stared from Oquith to K’sel, half-expecting the brownweyrling to burst out laughing. He’d never actually seen anyone delirious before, and it stunned him. His mind didn’t accept that it wasn’t a joke, that this was a real, very serious condition; on an intellectual level, he knew – on a more primal, straightforward one, he assumed simply that the brownweyrling was joking around. Which – well, he wasn’t. Right? Right? Oquith’s agitation was sobering, and the greenrider pushed both hands through his hair, interlocking his fingers awkwardly around the back of his runnertail, a habitual gesture that had been made ridiculously difficult due to the way he’d pulled his hair back that day. Hrmph. Avia bounced onto his shoulder, and then flopped all over his shirt, smearing what little blood was left on her from her meal all over the ragged off-white cotton material; Tr’esn turned his head silently, awkwardly, preferring to let Oquith handle K’sel and ‘the Sick’, towards Avia, and the little green licked his chin, bombarding him instantly with questions: What was going on? Who was this? And the dragon? And why wasn’t the big green one eating? Oughtn’t she to be? Wasn’t that why they’d come – ?

“She doesn’t have straps,” Tr’esn said softly, cutting across Avia’s plethora of questions – he’d answer them later, or maybe never; likely the little green’d forget them in minutes anyway – before he indicated Oquith’s neck. “I don’t – she flies really smoothly and she lands really well too; it shouldn’t be too much of a problem…and she’ll be careful. She’s always careful…” Always; she rarely had accidents anymore, except with flame – she was still working on that. The first time she’d eaten firestone, she’d almost sneezed fire onto him. If he remembered correctly, Checkoth had actually set R’wign on fire almost directly afterwards, so Oquith’s mistake paled in comparison. Fortunately, no firestone was involved in this simple trip to the Infirmary. “I think – is it okay – if she takes you the Infirmary? I mean, I know they have food there” – he’d worked there for a time; they had to have something to feed the patients, after all – “and I think – I mean, have you been there recently…? Everyone” – he winced inwardly at the white lie, but he really didn’t want Oquith to get stabbed if K’sel panicked or something – “has to go for a checkup, and – um, is it okay…?”

[Lotty]

The infirmary. Why ever would he need to go there? He was K'sel. He was invincible...as was common for young men to think. At nineteen turns old it was easy to believe that even if he couldn't live forever, that he would never get old. The brightest flames, they burn out the fastest don't they? Of course. K'sel thought his life would be short and punctuated with an exclamation point. He'd never fade away, he'd leave Pern kicking and screaming, the same way he came in. He wasn't going to the infirmary to fade away. Oh no, he scowled at this very idea feeling almost betrayed by everyone on the scene, there was a bit of that hurt that leaked into his voice when he began to plea with Pettahth, outloud, as privacy just was not a thing that occurred to him in his state, "Pettahth, why would we go to the infirmary?" he coughed..such perfect timing, "I am fine..."

It was about that time that the weyrling noticed the pull at his shirt. Oh she was so lucky this wasn't his favorite shirt, not that he could stay mad at a dragon...a green dragon at that. He had a weird sort of soft spot for the creatures, well most draconic creatures fell under that rule. He couldn't really hate any of them, maybe except salamandyrs, but he hardly thought they counted. Anyway, Oquith had him captured, and he was too too tired to put up much of a fight. "Wha-what are you doing?" he asked as he felt himself be lifted. He could have sworn he felt the fibers in his shirt stretching and creaking from stress. Before he could beg to be released he got his wish. But even the slightest movements knocked him over, and he was in the dirt.

At least he wasn't being completely pathetic. He did get back up, if only to prove that he wasn't sick, unfortunately he wasn't very convincing. K'selmine. You need to go to see a healer. Oquith's is right, you could use a check-up...and I'm sure they will give you candies if you are a good boy? Pettahth was nosy and picked K'sel's brain for that one. Sweets were for the ones who didn't fuss too much...

K'sel flicked his hand at the dragon's comment, and relented, "We can go....but they won't find anything wrong with me...the healers will yell...they'll just think I'm a waste of time," because he was clearly healthy as an ox. That is exactly why a boy that had been tossing firestone sacks was having so much trouble climbing on a green dragon. He looked at Oquith like she was a mountain..."Wanna help me out?" He'd hang on from there on out he swore.

[Avu]

Oh, oh. He was unhappy. Whether or not it was with her, Oquith didn’t know, but the result it produced was the same. The green’s eyes were tinted with agitation, and she pressed her belly more firmly against the ground, nosing uneasily at the grass beneath her; a low rumble emerged from her throat that displayed her upset confusion very accurately. Didn’t he want to be not-Sick? Because the Sick was very bad, it was; nobody wanted to be Sick and the Infirmary-place made it all better. Okay, maybe it only did some of the time, but that was better than never, right, right? And if it made you smell strange, it was okay. The smell came off, it did! Was that why he was worried? She nosed at K’sel again gently, her tongue flickering out to lick his palm softly. Unfortunately, that one affectionate gesture left a trail of saliva – much as Oquith didn’t mean to, she did have a slobbery lick. Which was why she didn’t really carry many people around except for K’iel and Hers in her mouth; she drooled and they didn’t like it. Hmm, hmm; how to make him want to go to the Infirmary…?

I am sure it will only take a minute, she offered helpfully, crooning. And if you ask I think they can give you a…a…um, a cookie? Because, yes; that was definitely sufficient bribery. Cookies – and candy. Yes, yes, that would make him want to go, right? Or pie. Or cake. Or – or…if they don’t, we can. Or, Mine can; I can’t fit in the kitchens… Not without knocking things over, anyway. If nobody was there, Oquith probably could fit; she was small enough to. But she couldn’t…but that was beside the point. But – oh, oh, he agreed! Oquith crooned and leaned down, picking K’sel up by the back of his shirt again and swiveling her head to place the brownweyrling on her back. Nosing him once more into place, she crooned and then flipped her wings open, taking a few steps back as not to disrupt Tr’esn, Avia, or even Pettahth when she lifted off.

How odd, watching someone else ride his lovely green. Tr’esn tilted his head up at Oquith and K’sel, and then glanced awkwardly at Pettahth before looking back at the pair. His silence was obviously one of discomfort; he didn’t like the idea of someone else riding Oquith. It was awkward and felt strange, as strange as he felt at the idea of riding someone else’s dragon. Even if it was K’iel or Vashti – they were his friends, but they weren’t Oquith’s and that made it strange. Even wrong; it made him feel very uncomfortable and he averted his gaze purposely, turning his head to look at Avia again. The green licked him on the chin and purred happily, oblivious to his discomfort. Not that she could do anything about it even if she did know, Tr’esn realized wearily before he tilted his head upwards, hair falling into his eyes (something he didn’t resent; it hid his expression and even if K’sel was too out of it to notice, Pettahth wasn’t) before he shrugged and turned to pull himself onto the fence, legs dangling.

“Just – just tell Qui when you’re ready,” Tr’esn called, his voice barely carrying. “She’ll – she’ll take care of you…um…” He shrugged one shoulder awkwardly, and then waved. What – well, what else was he supposed to do? “Um…hope you’re not sick…” Because, yes. People definitely acted like that when they weren’t sick. Of course. He almost rolled his eyes to himself, but caught it; he didn’t know whether or not Pettahth would care if he did, but better not to chance it. And then came the whersport, appearing from between just over Oquith’s head. Her ugly head tilted to examine K’sel and a croak that was definitely a defiant rejection emerged form her throat before Dolphin swooped down to land neatly on the fence next to Tr’esn, butting her head against his hand affectionately and completely ignoring Avia’s excited squealing. Miss her, miss her, had he missed her? Back now, she was; the big green thing had called her back to keep him company, and why on Pern was she carrying that two-legged? So silly.

[Lotty]

K'sel wasn't sure why everyone and everything liked licking him so much....but he wanted to know how to harness this power for good (evil). It wasn't exactly a pure thought, but was there anything that ever popped into a young man's head that was? Either way, he would just had to embrace the fact that apparently he was just delicious and move on with his life. Unfortunately life was taking him in the direction of the infirmary. Not his first choice. He frowned a bit at the slobber, but didn't rush to wipe it away on his pants, instead doing it casually before he felt that familiar tug again. Lifted.

The ground came out from under him, and his shirt pulled up under his arms. It was awfully uncomfortable for that brief little moment while the world swirled around him and he hung limply like a ragdoll. He didn't even bother to struggle. As much as he didn't want to go to the infirmary, he knew it would be a requirement if he tried to fight his way out of this now, not that he had much time to do so. As soon as he was yanked off the ground he was set on the green's back...clinging in a childlike way for dear life. The green grass below just looked so much further away than it should have, and it was spinning... He closed his eyes. That seemed to help a lot....and mmmmmm pie. Pie might be good. Better than herdbeast, and he didn't have to go and hunt those down. But if the infirmary didn't follow through...and he didn't get anything out of this, well then Tr'esn and Oquith would never hear the end of it.

Pettahth looked on. He wasn't nervous per say. The brown didn't get nervous and he definitely wasn't the type to worry, but there was a quiet apprehension about seeing his rider on another dragon. It really couldn't be helped he knew, but that was exactly the problem in itself. This made the brown feel so helpless, and he didn't like that feeling at all. Things should be tackled head on and by yourself. There was a little bit of rugged individualism in him, so to have to lean on the help of a stranger (even if this stranger was a half-sister), seemed like a grave betrayal of his code. Hmmf, at very least he would be gracious and return the favor. Someday he would. Be careful with mine? He usually doesn't break easy...I should know... K'sel was something of a punching bag for him sometimes.

On a final note he added, I will remember not to forget your kindness.

All the while K'sel continued to keep his eyes shut and huddle down as close to Oquith's hide as he could, "Let's go and I'll promise to try not to vomit on you..."

[Avu]

I will not let him get hurt, Oquith assured Pettahth earnestly, crooning at the larger dragon – for he was larger than she; Qui was nothing short of tiny. Only Peppeth stood a chance of dwarfing her, and even then it was by only a few inches. The green was slightly self-conscious about her size, but being around Wymeth and Qualuth made her feel better about it; she was much smaller than the both of them and they still loved her just the same, after all. Still, she’d never had the slightest trouble carrying Tr’esn; the greenrider was small enough in stature not to pose any difficulty for her, weighing only a few pounds over a hundred. K’sel…wouldn’t be too difficult; Qui was full-grown, after all, and the green wasn’t of the slender, dainty kind, small though she was; the muscling was visible beneath her hide and she’d practiced flying endlessly until she’d gotten the hang of turning without the aide of a split tail. Oh, she added, You needn’t to worry about – about repaying me or anything. I /like/ to help, the green explained, before she flapped both wings and raised her head curiously to feel the wind. I will let you know if Yours needs to remain in the Infirmary, was her last note.

She permitted herself a low reassuring croon to K’sel before she crouched and then sprang into the air. That one motion was probably jarring, and Oquith dipped one wing in order to change direction, flipping her wings up at an angle to climb higher into the sky, carefully. Her flight was as balanced as she could make it as not to make K’sel fall off; that would upset her greatly, it would. Fortunately, the skies allowed for a straight flight, and Oquith crooned once more, sides vibrating with the sound, before she settled into a rhythmic, steady pace; it was tempting to turn her head around to make sure K’sel was still okay, but doing so would almost ensure crashing headlong into a tree or something; she wasn’t that high up, just to make sure that if K’sel did spontaneously slip off before she could correct it, he wouldn’t die. No no no; very bad and she’d be absolutely torn up about such an event. She hadn’t lied with Pettahth; Oquith liked helping people very much. It made her feel needed and appreciated, something that she didn’t normally feel. She wasn’t the most adept at maneuvering and she’d almost set fire to Tr’esn the first time she tried to flame but when she was helping people she could forget that, and she liked it very much.

“Uh.” Tr’esn squirmed awkwardly on the fence, scooping Avia off of his shoulder and placing the green next to him on the fence with a firm mental command not to flutter up to Pettahth and bother the brown before he clicked his tongue and pursed his lips in a chirp at Dolphin, an almost perfect mimic of her greeting, something he’d perfected in all the times he’d spent with her and Avia. There was some difference in the firelizard and whersport sounds, obviously, but they were alike enough that he could whistle and chirrup at them and they’d understand it well enough. The green whersport ruffled her wings proudly and chirped back before she crawled into his lap indulgently, allowing him to pull his legs up, hooking one around the wooden fence to keep himself balanced and reaching down to stroke the whersport gently. She’d never Bonded very closely with him, but he was still very pleased at her return – and it provided a relieving distraction from the gut-wrenching dismay at the sight of Oquith flying off with another Rider aboard. He knew the reason, but that didn’t stop the twinge of upset he felt.

After a moment, Tr’esn cocked his head to peek up at Pettahth, and then indicated the herdbeast that his Qui had left behind. “I don’t think she’ll be coming back to that – you can eat it. If you want – if you’re hungry,” he offered uncertainly to the brown. “I know she won’t mind, and – and if – K’sel? – is sick, you at least shouldn’t be starving yourself…” His nose crinkled slightly; he felt strange preaching to a dragon that wasn’t Qui, Wymeth, or Qualuth. It just felt wrong. Not as wrong as seeing Qui fly off with another Rider, but wrong, still. Not right, not natural…

((So, are we ending this here, or do you want to make keep going?))

[Lotty]

((hmmm it doesn't matter to me either way...can't you tell I'm indecisive?))