Mini Corinth ftw? (Toy stall, Open)

[Rei]

F’lyn walked through the gather slowly, his mind preoccupied. The blue rider looked particularly sober in a navy blue tunic and dark pants picked out especially for the occasion. He had left Terilyn at the creche despite the howl she set up when he left. It wouldn’t do to drag her all the way here. She was only four months old and he didn’t want her to grow ill from cold or the like. Teri the terror he had nicknamed her. But despite the nickname he adored her. So much it scared him. When he had first “adopted” her, the blue rider had been self conscious and even scared. Now it was getting easier to balance the baby’s needs with her wants. For all purposes Terilyn consumed F’lyn’s life right now and it was strange, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He had grown to love her. Yes the babe was not his get but all the same he loved her.

Raylin would be happy. Happy that her baby wouldn’t lack a father figure. The only thing she would lack was a mother and that worried him a bit. Perhaps he should ask Farryl if she would mind spending more time with the little girl. Terilyn needed a female presence in her life and wet nurses from the creche didn’t count. Not really. F’lyn had already decided she would grow up knowing he wasn’t her real father. It would not be fair to T’rid. The babe would know that her parents where gone from a young age. He didn’t want her confused as she grew older. The blue rider intentionally avoided using the words “daddy” or any combination around her. Instead she would know him as F’lyn or uncle.

Pandorath helped as well by passing on images that Ebolath had given him. Images of T’rid, of Raylin, of Ebolath and Corinth, the first time her mother held Terilyn in her arms, and memories of a happier time long past. The images where played for the babe when she was extremely upset, and before she slept most nights. The repetition kept them ingrained in Pandorath’s memory. The blue remembered things well, but only those things he saw as important. Both Ebolath and Raylin had impressed those as particularly important. Terilyn seemed to have a particular fondness for Corinth. Probably because he was shiny, F’lyn had noticed that things that had there own sheen drew her like a moth to flame. She loved watching Piper when he was freshly oiled and Pandorath to.

Thus F’lyn decided she needed something of her own to cling to for Piper grew tired of being manhandled quickly. The blue rider had seen the dragon plushies at other gathers and rather hoped this one would have them to. He was looking for something specific. A plushie that was as close to Corinth’s hide shade as possible. Her own mini Corinth to drag around. Finding the toy stall wasn’t hard. He inclined his head politely to the owner and frowned at the pile of plushies on a near table. There where a lot of them to dig through. Shards but this was going to be a pain.

[tarra]

The bustling crowd made little leeway for the bronzerider's advance, and he pushed through them with his typical good humour, lending a hand here and there to guide some straying passerby out of his path. Crowds were rarely polite in any manner, and S'kor was accustomed to the daily routine of dealing with them: Weyr, Gather or otherwise. Slipping between two tall man debating on the best set of wher leathers at a stall, he leaned up against the tent wall of another booth for a quick breather.

The Gather was in full swing, a kalaidescope of colour and noise fit to assail the senses and send one spinning with the resulting riot. A child beside him wailed, and was promptly picked up and carried off by her harried mother. At the next stall a group of young girls plowed through a sea of woven cloths, their lips moving and voices inaudible above the din. From somewhere at the end of the row, a flare of orange drew his eyes: someone had lit a bonfire, and the flames flew high a moment before settling down. It was a cheerful place in spite of the chaos, and he felt a grin plucked at the edges of his lips. Better this any day than the melee of battle, the cries of men and beast, and the hiss of dragon flame. There were men who preferred the field of war, who were more at home in the heat of skirmish than in their weyrs. Men who feared social situations like the plague because they were just not good at dealing with them. S'kor was not one of them. Were he given a choice, he would have chosen the melee of the marketplace over the battlefield any day.

The crowd flowed and pulsed past him, and he reached a hand to his collar to tighten his cloak. The dark-hued material ran heavy over his shoulders and arms, flowing in sinuous curves to his very ankles. Red trimming ran the length of its hem and edges - bright crimson the colour of blood, for the riders who had been his friends the night of the Selenitas Seige. A high starched collar formed its neckline, framing his head with a round-half-cone of black and red. The heavy cloak, with his navy long tunic and dark brown leggings, made an imposing figure of the bronzerider's tall frame. It was an impression that was strengthened by the long knife at his belt.

S'kor made his way into the crowd again, taking his time to filter through the jostle and push of it. He was in no hurry - he had all day, and no inclinations to hasten the day for anything. Morreliath had been bathed and oiled, and his duties to Weyr, weyr and stomach settled for the rest of the afternoon. He was here to enjoy the Gather, and enjoy it he would as long as no emergency called him back to the Weyr in a hurry.

Crossing a swath of momentarily open space, he found himself confronted with a stack of pushies of every shape, size and hue. A toy stall no doubt, as confirmed by the wooden pull-toys ringing the pile of softer oddments at their center. He idled a while to watch a child and his mother sorting through the stack, aided by their eager salamandyr who, if it stood still long enough, might actually have been mistaken for a toy itself. He had just turned to move on when his eyes fell on a sight that gave him reason to pause again.

There was a man, quite alone, sifting through the pile of plushies. The bronzerider raised a brow, not quite comprehending the sight. Grown men did not plow through mounds of soft toys - not least of all dragonriders, if the black-haired man was indeed who he thought he was. He had never found much occasion to speak to the rider of the mute blue dragon - they were from different Wings, and in a sense lived in different worlds. But that did not mean he had not seen him from afar, or not noticed him. It was hard to miss someone so unworthy of Morreliath's direct speech that the bronze pointed him out at every chance. Not that S'kor shared his dragon's views - they were rider and dragon, not man-dragon, and entitled to their own opinions on some matters. Moving gently around two more children and a young father with his babe, he came up beside F'lyn and began pulling at the stack of toys himself.

"Second childhood, I believe?" he murmered to the bluerider, "I suppose it happens to everyone."

[Rei]

"Second childhood, I believe? I suppose it happens to everyone."

The softly spoken words caused F’lyn to jump. Not normally the nervous type the blue rider was just a bit embarrassed by the fact that he no doubt looked silly. A slight questioning brush against his mind had him soothing his nervous blue. It was just S’kor of Morreliath. Pandorath’s soft snort of amusement was felt though the bond and the dark haired man couldn’t help but smile lightly. Yes one of the bronzes who thinks you are less than capable. Ah well we show them every fall don’t we my friend? Just because you can’t speak doesn’t mean you can’t fight. F’lyn felt a surge of pride from his blue and then a quick pulse of love before the midnight dragon faded to the back of his mind.

Shaking off his blank expression he returned his attention to his new companion. Nervously he began. “It’s not for me really. It’s for my foster daughter Terilyn. She is back at the weyr. To young to drag around still. Oh I see women with their babies carting them around like it’s no big deal but I’m paranoid she’ll get sick. So I left her at the creche.” F’lyn paused in his nervous explanation as he realized how extremely nervous he must have seemed. Offering S’kor a sheepish smile he shrugged. “Sorry for the long winded explanation. “I fear I am just a bit embarrassed by my current predicament.” Seriously he had to be caught by a bronze rider? Why couldn’t he be a green rider? At least they didn’t make him feel as awkward.

Continuing his search F’lyn pulled a orangeish colored bronze from the pile and turned it over in examination. To light. Corinth was a bit darker than this. Wasn’t he? A quick prod to Pandorath supplied the needed mental image and the rider returned the toy. Hmm maybe he would need to have it custom made. A bother but it would be worth it to see the excitement on Teri’s face when she received it. “So you looking for anything in particular or have you just some to haze a nervous rider?” The words where offered in jest and F’lyn offered a smile to make sure his words weren’t taken too seriously. If S’kor was here the bronzer was probably bored and although F’lyn wasn’t perfectly comfortable, he was friendly and amiable.

[tarra]

S'kor could only imagine how they must appear - two men pulling at a mound of toys in the midst of a busy Gather. He was not a man easily embaressed or concerned about his personal image, but the humor of the situation impressed on him nonetheless and forced him to choke a laugh back down his throat. F'lyn, however, did not seem to share it, if the bluerider's startle was anything to go by. He looked, in S'kor's opinion, rather like a boy caught in michief (or a wherry caught unawares, for that matter). Quite clearly he had not expected to be disturbed at his task.

“It’s not for me really. It’s for my foster daughter Terilyn. She is back at the weyr. Too young to drag around still. Oh I see women with their babies carting them around like it’s no big deal but I’m paranoid she’ll get sick. So I left her at the creche.”

"I see," the bronzerider smiled back at him, easy and casual, "Well, I agree that weyrbrats are best left out of this crowd."

“Sorry for the long winded explanation. “I fear I am just a bit embarrassed by my current predicament.”

"That's fine - though you don't have to be. I was joking about the second childhood," he chuckled, "It's a Gather isn't it? We're all out to unwind."

F'lyn had turned back to his searching, and S'kor left it to him as he lounged against the rack, eyeing a lime green dragon plush near his fingers. The bluerider's words had given him food for thought, and he chewed on them even as his unwitting companion tugged out a bronze-looking toy for inspection. He hadn't known that Pandorath's rider had a foster child - hadn't known that he even had a weyrmate in the first place. The lives of the blue and green riders were little concern to the bronzeriders; but S'kor, though he would never admit it, missed the easy and honest comradeship that had graced the beastcrafter days of his youth. Life as a ranking rider was political by nature, and while the rider of Morreliath had his dragon's uncanny wits for living it, he still felt subconciously the draws of an open friendship, a genuine word.

“So you looking for anything in particular or have you just some to haze a nervous rider?”

F'lyn's voice brought him back to the present. The brief openness in his eyes fell away, and the mask of the bronzerider - hazy-eyed, calm-faced - came up again. The lower ranking riders were always so uneasy around the bronzeriders that it made him almost wistful at times. It took effort, too, to remember he had to be an authority whenever he was aroud them, social situation or not. Nonetheless, Pandorath's rider had been right to say he was bored, since he was; but he had no wish to make anyone uncomfortable. Still smiling, he glanced up at the stack of toys, which easily came up to the height of his waist. The bluerider had phased it as a joke, and S'kor would respond in kind; but the reminder of their distance and rank would not be forgotten.

"No - nothing in particular; and no intent to haze anyone," he said mildly, "I didn't know you had a foster daughter though. A weyrmate's child?"

[Rei]

F’lyn shook his head. “No not a weyrmate’s child. She is the child of a friend. Raylin of Ebolath was her name. Weyrmated to T’rid of bronze Corinth.” The bluerider fell silent as he examined a plush and held it up to the light. To dark. “Once T’rid disappeared she was a mess. She caught the plague not long after giving birth and I couldn’t leave Terilyn to the creche. I adopted her. It was her mother’s last wish so to speak.” The sadness in the man’s tone and gaze was unmistakable. “I do my best by her but really fatherhood is much harder than it looks.” Shrugging F’lyn idly wondered what possessed him to just rattle on to his new companion. Ah well it is not as if he had anything to hide. Most people knew he was caring for T’rid’s daughter by now. T’rid had not been well liked but F’lyn wasn’t doing it for the absent bronzerider. He was doing it for Raylin and Terilyn herself. The baby seemed genuinely happy and really that was all that mattered.

Absently he stroked the soft material of the plush toy he had grabbed. The rider had almost decided to just have one custom made when another orangeish tail caught his eye. Rescuing it from the pile F’lyn mentally checked with Pandorath. Yes this one would do quite nicely. Mini Corinth indeed. “Well I found what I was looking for. Do you need any help or did you just decide it would be nice to keep me company?” The bluerider offered S’kor a friendly smile.
Pandorath sent a wave of amusement to his bonded. He was speaking to bronzeriders now? First a goldrider albeit a young one and now a bronzerider? Brave his was becoming. F’lyn chuckled lightly and then quickly regained his composure. “Sorry about that Pandorath tends to crack jokes at odd times.”

What a odd situation he had found himself in. F’lyn didn’t often speak to bronzeriders. Not because he didn’t like them but because they ran in different social circles so to speak. Oh sure his Wingleader was a bronzerider, and a highly respected one, but he wouldn’t exactly call Ka’rys a friend. No he was a leader. Someone to be admired and respected not someone he could ever imagine sitting down to tea or the like with. S’kor also fell into that category. One of the elite, so to speak, so talking with him was…..different. Not bad, just different.

[tarra]

S'kor glanced at F'lyn, surprise sparking briefy in his eyes as he explained his relationship to the child he was now risking his diginity for. The child of a friend? Now, that was rare: the bronzerider could count on his fingers the riders who would take interest in raising a weyrbrat; and this bluerider, as far as he knew, was probably the only one who would care for one that was not even his. Faranth knew that S'kor wasn't even aware if he might have sired any, mainly because he didn't want to know. Looking back now, he reckoned he should have; one never knew, after all, if one or two of them might turn up someday, seeking his acknowledgement (and support).

But the rider of Pandorath was rapidly gaining respect in his eyes; even if some part of him argued likewise that the man was being irrational. Hearing him talk about fatherhood with a child he had not fathered - it was enlightening, to say the least. It also showed up, again, just how out of touch with Weyr life he was: he had known that T'rid had had a weyrmate, but not a child. He watched as the bluerider pulled out an orangish-looking bronze from the stack, and a smile lit his eyes. It looked so much like Corinth, as he himself remembered the bronze.

“Well I found what I was looking for. Do you need any help or did you just decide it would be nice to keep me company?”

His smile spread from his eyes to his lips, mildly, "Well, I'm not the one choosing the toy; no insult meant, I just thought to as you why you were choosing one."

F'lyn's chuckle brought his glance up, though his smile widened at the explanation. Toying with the lime green dragon plush, he shrugged.

"You don't have to - some days, I think Morreliath needs to, too," ignoring the pulse of irritation at the edge of his mind, he lobbed the green plushie in F'yn's general direction. If he recalled correctly, T'rid weyrmate had been a greenrider. He just wished he had known then that her name was Raylin, of Ebolath.

"You might want to get Terilyn a green too - for her mother. So that she'll remember her."