Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on May 9, 2010 21:07:20 GMT -5
Thwap.
The bow lowered, M'ta squinting at the target. Was his eyesight...? Completely missed. I think you're trying to pin my tail on purpose, Behruth commented from one side. His tail flicked, brushing over the arrow half-sticking out of the ground not far from him. "Yeah, course, that's high on my list of things to do," M'ta grumbled to himself, though of course Behruth was just as much privy to it out of earshot as if he'd been right beside his rider. For throwing things as well as you do, you sure can't shoot the pointy sticks very well. "Takes more strength." Uh huh. Drawing another arrow back taught against the string, he aligned his sight down the shaft. "Different, in other words."
Sneak chirped helpfully from his decidedly unhelpful position coiled around M'ta's left bicep. Clearly if His just pulled back further it would fix all his problems. The brownrider glanced at his firelizard. Yeaaaah. Why had he brought his mindmates with him? As if on cue, PMS dropped down from his position in a tree overhead, plopping onto M'ta's shoulder. He jerked, sending the arrow...high. And overshooting by a good twenty feet, though at least this time it was relatively straight. "Stop that," he growled at the blue, a growl that turned into a hiss as PMS scampered down his left arm, projecting very clear thoughts as to his desire to steal The Shiny. Not to be confused with less important ear danglies.
Bow fell into the gritty sand, M'ta snatching for the mandyr and catching him around his trunk, lifting him with a glare. "We've already discussed this." PMS stared at him, sending anxious waves to Behruth. Save him from the glaaares. The brown merely huffed in response. The little sky shiny was on his own for this one, apparently. "Go on, bother someone else. Vex maybe." M'ta dropped PMS, even as Sneak curled tighter around his arm with an inquisitive fluting. Vex? Where? He sighed, glancing sidelong at the flit yet again. "Creeper," he grumbled.
M'ta slipped the bow over his shoulder and began trudging down the bank, collecting all the fallen and wildly off-target shafts for the fifth time since coming out here. He didn't frustrate easy, but this bow thing...beginning to think he'd never get the hang of it. Crouching low near the target, he glared it into submission for a good twenty seconds. Attract the arrows, attract the arrows. This set Behruth off into a series of rumbles. I like this new method. You should do it more often. Power of the miiiind. "Shut up."
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Post by glamourie on May 10, 2010 4:06:48 GMT -5
Bossy Shortymine’s. Bossy, bossy. Being mean to bigflyer not needed. Why here, asks mine? Coming, coming.
The green salamandyr climbed up onto a small rock and flared her frill up at M’ta pleasantly. In most creatures it would’ve been a threatening gesture but from Vex, it was anything but: she looked quite happy to see M’ta. Her wings flapped and she stood on her hind legs before turning to look up into the sky, her beady little eyes glinting happily. Hers~
Vex’s presence was quickly explained by a shadow that started out small and rapidly spread out to form large beating wings and a pair of double tails that twisted together absently – even in the shadow that spread out over the sand. The shadow shifted form as Checkoth came to land several paces away, far enough to not toss sand up around himself, and the brown proceeded to gracelessly flop on the ground, legs spread out in an entirely boneless appearance. He crooned quietly, though the sound was hard to follow simply because it was barely audible in the first place. The dragon relaxed, head between his claws, and eyed Behruth calmly. No audible greetings were necessary. He adored his clutchbrother, after all. Did he need to express the obvious fondness? ( <3 )
“How did she beat us here?” R’wign mused quietly to himself as he removed all of his riding gear from Checkoth; it was more habit than anything else. He thought it must have been uncomfortable, though Check consistently said that he was fine. Then again, R’wign wasn’t sure he’d have liked the idea of someone riding around on him either and Check seemed fine with it. Different philosophies. Either way he’d have preferred his dragon to be comfortable. Stroking Check’s neck, he crinkled his nose. “I get the feeling she cheats. Somehow.” Checkoth rumbled in response – apparently amused – and R’wign shrugged. “You’re not going to tell me how she won, are you?” No response. Apparently not. “Fine. Keep your secrets. Traitor. You like her better, blah blah – all that stuff.” Feigning a dramatic sigh, R’wign reached up to scratch Checkoth’s eyeridge (and Checkoth nudged him in what was a very obvious display of affection). Over the past few sevendays, the two of them had grown a lot closer – ironic, since nothing big had happened, save for Checkoth actually throwing a hissy fit at R’wign (that was well-deserved).
Your matething makes a fool of himself. Why is he trying to shoot pointies at things? What is the purpose of that? the brown inquired, swiveling his head around to inquire of Behruth, Why is he shooting pointies, Ruthmine? Are the ones he carries not enough? So many pointies. I don’t understand…
“Ask Ciceroth why his rider’s damaged,” R’wign replied dryly before spinning on his toes. Across the beach he plunked (for there was no other way to describe the lazy half-walk half-skip) before R’wign lazily flopped down in the sand next to Vex, right on his stomach, not at all caring that he got himself covered in dirt in the process. The weather was finally tempering out some. Tilting his head up, R’wign eyed M’ta curiously before pointing at him. “Arrows? Really? Even for Ka’rys, that one’s excessive. Or is this bout of paranoia entirely yours?” He crinkled his nose, then added, “You didn’t show up for your shift and you missed bringing me lunch. And I noticed. I came to tell you I noticed, because I am proud of myself for not dumbly working for hours on end. Do I get a reward for that?” The quiet laughter in his voice made it clear he wasn’t upset about anything. What was there to be upset about? Aside from M’ta being, well, odd. “So what’s Ruth saying that merits insults? Vex says you’re being mean to him.”
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on May 15, 2010 20:06:45 GMT -5
That had to be a Vex. His eyes flicked toward her, not at all surprised to see a PMS coiling around her in what looked like a comic adaptation of a circular stalking motion. The blue brushed her mind cheerfully. Had she heard His tell him to go bother her? Was that why she was here? He had yet to acquire The Shiny, but once he did he would give it to her, since it was a special shiny given to mates and she was his mate. Would she like that? Sneak, too, was watching them, out of the corner of his eye. Fascinating salamandyrs they were. He subconsciously tightened his hold on M'ta's arm as the man crouched, earning him a mental prodding to stop trying to strangulate the brownrider's limbs. He had need of those.
"Bossy, maybe, but he's the one being mean. You came without R'wi-?" His voice trailed off as he noted the growing shadow. Behruth crooned, long before Checkoth was close enough to hear, tailtip flicking almost cattishly. The smaller of the browns rose, stretching his spine slowly, neck arching as his wings swept out in a brief display that was clearly stolen from watching flirting greens. M'ta brought palm to face, still watching from between his fingers. "Not a green." No, I'm a brown. As are you, Mine. Yet Checkoth's Flies you often, and you Fly him often. It is possible. "After four turns." Flatly. Late bloomer? Flicking his fingers dismissively at his dragon, M'ta leveled another stare at the target. That didn't keep him from commenting, however. "You're just frustrated cause you haven't had any since Peppeth."
Behruth offered him a loving croon before walking sedately toward Checkoth, and if his tail just so happened to trip up his rider, well...oops? Perfect timing the dragon had; R'wign had just finished with his straps when Behruth curled companionably into his side, nuzzling his only remaining clutchsibling. He watched His roll onto hands and knees, hissing several choice curses, with casual amusement. Mine thinks Yours doesn't have enough to do, so he gives him work by sticking himself with needles to make himself sick, and learning how to put more humanlies in the infirmary, Behruth responded silkily. He lapped at Checkoth's snout. His next words were more serious. Ciceroth's wants them to shoot the pointies. Of course, I think he intended for them to shoot the pointies well.
By this point M'ta had found his feet again, looking like a rather sweaty sand-monster, enough hair having come loose from his braid to partially conceal the clearly aggravated expression on his face. An expression that didn't dim much, despite his small amusement at the weird skippy gait of his weyrmate. Only as R'wign spoke did it change. He'd...shards, how long had he been out here? Just several candlemarks while you continue to threaten the sand and my tail with your arrows, Mine, that's all. He growled directly at his dragon. "He's been taunting and picking at me constantly for...quite awhile now." Candlemarks probably.
Peering down at R'wign, he pushed the hair from his eyes. "Ka'rys's idea. I have no need for a bow," he added testily. "Range might not be as far but what good is it if I can't hit anything anyway? Sharding-" He kicked the sand at the target...definitely the target's fault. "Sorry. Lost track of time."
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Post by glamourie on May 16, 2010 7:15:05 GMT -5
Not mean, Vex protested; it was not at all unusual for her to argue with M’ta. She flared her frill at her mate personably as he circled, not bothering to respond with words; he didn’t usually talk, so she didn’t see much point in wasting her time. Her acknowledgement of him was pleasant enough, albeit curious – what shiny did he mean? So strange, he was, at times. She was content without a shiny, no need to cause problems by taking one from His if that was the case. Silly blue-hers. She spared the smaller brownrider a pleasant look before chirping; she very rarely ventured too far from R’wign but she didn’t need to ride on the Checkoth brown to get place-to-place. Running was good for her! And satisfying, yes yes. Besides, it was a race. He was big and bulky, she was small and sneaky. And she’d won. Never far is preciousmine. Silly small-slave. Missed you, he did. Missed missed. Elliegold was looking too, but hatchlings distract. Ellie was so easily distracted by the sight of babies of any kind. Vex found it hilarious – R’wign found it annoying. Ellie didn’t much care what either of them thought though. Tch.
The green salamandyr’s antics were ignored by her larger, flying cousin. His eyes whirled a myriad of colors, mostly amused at Behruth’s antics, and as the smaller brown moved closer, he turned and literally wove himself around his clutchbrother possessively. One wing spread out and flopped over Behruth to further the unspoken claim. He’d always been very fond of ‘Ruth – even as hatchlings he’d all but idolized the smaller dragon – but in adulthood, now that their clutch siblings were all gone, he was downright clingy. He missed his sisters – Oquith especially – and it was lonely without them. Stubbornly, Checkoth refused to forget them. He was going to remember them until the end of time because someone had to, or their lives were meaningless. It was a sentiment he’d no doubt picked up from R’wign, but it led to him being ridiculously attached to the sibling he had left. He didn’t want to be alone. And he adored Behruth. Nuzzling the other brown, he crooned throatily, two eyelids falling closed in contentment. His.
R’wignmine says Ciceroth’s is damaged. Yours shouldn’t make himself sick. Mine worries a lot when he’s sick, and he gets very upset, and that is very upsetting to me. Flicking his left tail, Checkoth turned to look at M’ta absently. Mine has utmost faith that yours will soon be able to shoot the pointies well, though, if it makes him feel any better.
“Good to know someone picks up the reins when I’m not around,” R’wign said pleasantly; he didn’t turn back to Behruth because he was sure that the brown would be able to detect the approval in his voice. He didn’t need the accompanying smile. “To be fair, you probably deserved it. You’re way too fun to pick at, you grumble and scowl and grump and it’s hilarious. I do it every chance I get just to watch you fuss and make threats that you won’t follow through on, that you think I actually believe because you’ve got it in your head that you’re oh-so-frightening.” And his tone made it clear that he didn’t think for one second that M’ta was at all scary. He actually never had – even before they knew each other, he’d just thought of M’ta as that grumpy candidate who was as much of a failure as him (heh). At the time it was arrogance. Now? Now he just got a kick out of needling M’ta. He liked it. He had to, putting up with it from both sides.
“Checkoth thinks I’m being mean to you.” Sniffing indignantly, R’wign drew an odd circle in the sand with one finger. “It’s fine; for what it’s worth, it was kind of busy today and I’d have felt bad ignoring you. But you owe me a nice dinner in our weyr later.” Tilting his head, the healer regarded the bow before continuing, “You’ll be able to hit something soon enough; don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s like hunting isn’t it? I don’t know much about bows, but it’s probably more about controlling how much you pull back than anything else. They require more upper body strength than I’m fond of. Have you hurt your fingers or anything? It looks like that would hurt if it snapped...”
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on May 24, 2010 22:57:10 GMT -5
Ruth was more than content within the coil of his larger clutchbrother's body, nudging his snout out past the cover of the wing and licking Checkoth's shoulder affectionately. His Checkbrother. Oh, he called many of the younger dragons sister and brother - terms of endearment - as Behruth adored most any creature younger, smaller or more innocent than himself. But there was only one Checkbrother...only one clutchsibling left, in fact. And none but His ranked higher. Of course, right now he was irritated at His, so in that respect Checkoth was currently winning in the Ruth favor department.
Mine follows whatever Ciceroth's says like a little drone. Whether he wants to or not. Usually grumbling about it - if not aloud, then internally - the entire time. He does not wish to upset Yours, but it is 'orders,' apparently. Behruth huffed softly. Checkoth had hit directly on one of the things that most irritated the brown about this new wing of theirs - apart from all the training to fight and kill. Behruth understood defending oneself, defending the littles and the innocents who couldn't take care of themselves, but still the idea of tearing apart another dragon just following orders like he and His were...sat uneasy on his stomachs. He didn't like it, and couldn't understand why dragons couldn't simply get along. This was a human war anyway, right? They should all just refuse to involve themselves.
Behruth crooned, both in response to Checkoth's comment, and also to R'wign's assessment. Even if the other brownrider wasn't precisely - correct. Unlike Checkoth's human, Behruth was picking at His with no real intention of amusing himself.
M'ta's eyes narrowed on R'wign, not at all amused. He did not deserve it, and he didn't know how his amusing other people equated to deserving their messing with him. He let out a small huff. "Not my fault if you don't know what to be afraid of and what not to be," he responded with a touch of irritation. "I do too follow through on threats. Sometimes." Almost never. "Bite me," he hissed at Behruth. Not masochistic. "...where did you even pick up that word?" Your mind, obviously. Or from your weyrmate. I forget. Does it matter? Whatever.
"You're really good at this reassuring thing," M'ta stated dryly. "Oh, don't worry about it, we were just really busy when you were skipping your shift. And I do hope you mean procuring, rather than making. For one, I think the drudges would chase me out of there." Glancing sidelong at R'wign, he nearly rolled his eyes. No, he'd only been doing this for candlemarks, had no clue that it had something to do with angles and the amount of force on the bow. No clue at all. Knowing that his weyrmate was trying to help, though, and most of this was his frustration talking, he resisted snapping at him. "No...yes." He blinked down at his fingers. When had they started bleeding?
Wiping his hand on his pants, he strode over to plop down beside R'wign. "Okay, I'm done. Before I start having fits." Reaching out with the hand that wasn't bloody, he flicked at the hair in front of his weyrmate's face. "Sorry. More irritable than usual." Or, rather, Ruth was irritable, too, and that rarely ever yielded good results.
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Post by glamourie on May 28, 2010 12:03:16 GMT -5
Checkoth leaned over and nuzzled Ruth’s back contentedly. For all appearances, he was as happy as any dragon could be. His eyes were whirling his obvious affection and yes, he was very pleasantly curled against his clutchbrother as if nothing else in the world affected them. But those who knew him well (namely his human counterpart, so contentedly playing in the sand with Behruth’s) would notice the slight twitch in his tails, the ever-so-slight hesitation in his nuzzling, and that the happy shades were whirling slower with touches of worry amidst them: he hated seeing Behruth upset. The only entity whose upset bothered him more was R’wign and R’wign was at utter peace (for the first time in as long as Checkoth could remember – a near miracle, that, as his rider was usually conflicted and brooding over something). So it was that Checkoth was growing steadily more concerned with how to calm his beloved clutchbrother down. He didn’t like seeing Ruth sad, no he did not, and it was his job as Checkoth (best clutchbrother ever) to make him feel better. This required sufficient plotting. He would have to borrow R’wignHis. He was very good at plotting. So was the Vexling. Hmm hmm hmm.
You don’t like that Yours follows him? But isn’t Ciceroth’s a good human? Ciceroth’s helped mine when the bads came. Is he bad now too? Checkoth tilted his head to look at Behruth curiously. He didn’t believe Ciceroth’s was bad. He went out of his way to help His even then – and he’d been one of the few people able to make His see that it was worth it to talk to him about things. Checkoth very much liked Ciceroth’s. Not as much as he did Ruth’s, but he thought he was a good humanling. He reminded Checkoth of Ruth’s in many ways, except that Ruth’s wasn’t quite so broken, as Ciceroth put it. Sometimes it is good to question, R’wignmine thinks. He likes to question too much, but I think if he didn’t question at all, he would learn less, and get less done. Yours should question anything he doesn’t like. At least then he would understand.
The conversation between the dragons was half-projected to R’wign because Checkoth did not make any effort to hide his feelings. R’wign, on the other hand, was pretty good at it; while he was ‘listening’, he resolved to not comment unless Checkoth asked him for anything. It wasn’t him who needed to help Behruth – that was M’ta – and he knew better than to get involved in dragon-rider affairs. They were the only ones who could fix their apparent problem. That thought in mind, M’ta’s commentary made him smile. “I fear the things I should fear. You’re not one of them, no matter how much you might think you should be.” He trusted M’ta completely. It was kind of surreal, especially since of late he’d gotten better about voicing his emotions without hesitation, but he did trust him. And M’ta didn’t like it when he buried things. Put two and two together and voila: sharing and caring.
... except he was being ignored for an argument with a dragon. R’wign clicked his tongue, uninterrupting. He wasn’t in a hurry. He did smile though at the half of the conversation he could hear before he kissed M’ta’s forehead (about time he came close enough for that) – ever so gentle; chaste. “I meant eating dinner with me that I’ve cooked, lover. Relax. I know better than to ask you to cook. Give me your hands?” he asked, then gently took M’ta’s wrists. He didn’t acknowledge the blatant grumpiness; he was busily pretending that M’ta’s sulking had nothing to do with anything that he knew anything about. Yes, obliviousness was fun to pretend. If he needed to know, M’ta would tell him. “Don’t wipe them on your pants. We’re going to need to clean them and you’ll need to take a couple days of a break, lover. You’re just going to keep hurting them at the rate you’re going. That’s a common archery injury, unfortunately. I’ll bandage them up when we go inside. Do you want to now, or were you intending to stay out here a little longer?” He didn’t release M’ta’s wrists, namely because he didn’t want him messing with his hands again. They’d be really sore at the rate he was going. “Far be it from my weyrmate to be irritable. Whatever shall I do? My heart breaks at your cruel barbed words.” Sarcasm as always. Typical R’wign. “I love you too much to be put off by your sulking. Besides, Checkoth’s about as hard to see through as finely cleaned glass.”
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on May 28, 2010 21:09:25 GMT -5
Behruth nuzzled Checkoth, his tone taking on a tired feel to it. No, Ciceroth's isn't bad. I know the poisoning thing is to get a little sick now so they can't get very sick that way later, and I know why all the training. But Mine gets himself in trouble all the time without being on a wing where he's going to be expected to. He doesn't know when to stop. He coiled tighter against Checkoth's side. The ichor took sevendays to get off my claws, he added quietly. I wanted the feeling, the jerk, wanted to tear her limb from limb for coming near any of ours, for being connected to the ones hurting Yours. Mine tells me that was him, not me, but I don't think that's completely true. I don't want to be like the dragons who don't care anymore, who don't keen when our brothers and sisters go Between.
He didn't want to feel the gaping darkness that was absence of emotion, the one lingering in the memories of His. Was it terrible that he was more concerned about whether he felt or not, than the killing itself? Was he already corrupted? It was so easy, though, to get angry, so easy...Checkoth was his only remaining sibling. It shouldn't be that way. It shouldn't. Behruth turned his head, catching His with his eyes upon him. Almost as if the meeting of eyes was what connected them, he felt the careful separation bridged, felt the full embrace of his rider's mind and allowed it to swallow him for a moment.
Only half-listening to R'wign again. In fact, he noticeably jerked, eyes refocusing abruptly at the hands closing around his wrists. It was little more than a twitch, though, not accompanied by any stiffening or an attempt to retreat. Indication enough that, even completely engaged with Behruth, M'ta was at least marginally aware that the one touching him was the only living person he really trusted. Don't wipe them? Oh, right, the hands. His fingers curled slightly in response. "No one said learning archery was going to keep me from doing what I'm actually good at," he grumped, eyes flicking toward Ruth for another moment, before he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think I'd best go back...he's tired." Perhaps willing to stay if it was just the two of them, but the brown had little energy for anything but cuddling.
M'ta likely could have broken free long enough to express his irritation at the sarcasm more physically - it was a genuine apology, and again he was far quicker to annoy lately so he let it go, let it go. "Then you've likely got a better idea of what Behruth's actually been telling him than I do," M'ta commented drolly. He didn't need that, though. The rider still hadn't drawn back to their familiar distance, the weight of Behruth's confusion and depression settling heavily upon him, even as he kept his love for the brown foremost in his mind. And yes, it seemed to help lesson the negative feelings somewhat. "You haven't already made dinner, have you?" he questioned curiously, sliding closer to make their positioning less awkward.
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Post by glamourie on May 28, 2010 22:33:20 GMT -5
Checkoth crooned quietly, the worry in his eyes becoming more prominent. He remained quiet (other than that one noise, meant to comfort) while Behruth spoke, and only once he was finished did the larger of the two browns respond. His reaction was to curl more tightly around his clutchbrother, clearly protective of him. His wings spread, acting as a shade, folding over the pair of them before he swiveled his head down to nudge it against Behruth’s. An onlooker might have been confused by the so-blatant show of affection but then – it was Checkoth. He was a very affectionate dragon in general, and he’d always treated Behruth differently. Even when they were hatchlings. He was his favorite, and Checkoth didn’t try to hide it. Hiding things was for people, not dragons, that was his philosophy... and Behruth sounded so upset. It made him simultaneously sad and angry – sad that Behruth was upset; angry that someone had upset him so much. It was a strange feeling, much more like His than anything he was used to, and only the blatant contentedness from R’wign kept him level-headed. Strange, His being the calm one for once.
You could never be like them, Ruthmine. You sound like R’wignmine, too. That statement made him lift his head, so that Behruth could see his face; His was always talking about eye contact or some such. He didn’t really understand the point but maybe if it helped, he’d try it. He was very scared to learn to use the pointies. He didn’t want to; he kept telling me, he became a healer to save people, not hurt them. He kept telling everyone that. But R’wignmine could never hurt someone, not unless it was to keep himself safe, and neither could you, Ruthmine. Those creatures, not dragons in Checkoth’s mind; that was probably the first indication as to how he felt about the attack. He hadn’t spoken about it to anyone but R’wign for a reason, but his rage had been nearly unparalleled; it was very likely that he’d have killed any and everyone from that place had they come near his jaw range, following the attack. His had been so scared, so unbelievably scared and he was furious in response. They wanted to hurt us, ours. It’s not the same thing, Ruthmine. You’d never hurt anyone unless you had to, and you’d always wish there was another way. Sometimes there isn’t though – it’s not okay, but you can’t blame yourself for what others do. When those people were here – I wanted to kill them too. I wanted to eat the ones who hurt R’wignmine, but I’m not one of those dragons like in the north. Neither of us are. You’re my Ruthbrother.
R’wign’s response to M’ta’s jerking was only to bow his head; it led to his hair half-hiding his eye from view, but that was good enough for him. He didn’t respond to the half-grumbly response either, but he rarely responded to grumping from M’ta; it was very normal to him for his weyrmate to be complaining. He rose to his feet, mostly gracefully, and wound his arms around M’ta’s waist in a blatant show of affection. Once upon a time, the public displays would’ve been insecurity. Right then, it was really anything but. M’ta seemed upset, Behruth definitely was and he wanted to help without having to say how much he was able to follow, thanks to Checkoth’s responses. It wasn’t really his business, and if M’ta wanted to talk about it with him, he would.
“I haven’t made dinner yet, no, but I know what I intend to make. Do you want to come down to the kitchens while I work, or bathe? It shouldn’t take me too long to whip something decent together if you want to get cleaned up. It’s up to you.” He was actually making the offer in case M’ta wanted some time to himself to think; he naturally preferred M’ta coming with him to the kitchens, but he didn’t want to intrude on whatever was going on between Behruth and his weyrmate. It felt weird to be the awkward fourth wheel (since Checkoth seemed moderately at ease in the situation – or at least, he was part of it since he was talking to Behruth) – he didn’t really know what he could do aside from try to make M’ta laugh. Which wasn’t working so well, but eh, try, try again. “Whatever we do, we need to get your hands cleaned up and you’ll have to go a bit easier on them for a few days, or you risk infecting them. And if you infect them, then they’ll hurt too much to use them at all. Injuries are just wonderful, aren’t they?” Wry smile. “Hand injuries especially. C’mon?”
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on May 30, 2010 18:31:58 GMT -5
Behruth was grateful for the closeness of his Checkbrother, coiling tighter still to make it easier for the larger brown to completely encircle him, his tail sliding over Checkoth's flank, his head and neck partially draped over the other male's shoulder. Grateful for the closeness, and grateful for the wings that mostly obscured them from view. He wasn't the most prideful of dragons, no, and of course he wasn't ashamed about his affection for his only remaining clutchsibling; this was not the first time they'd cuddled openly and it certainly wouldn't be the last. A daily sight to anyone who glanced up at their ledge, really. But Behruth was rarely distressed, and some part of himself felt that it was wrong for him to be so. If he couldn't be calm, the next best thing was for his clutchbrother to shield him from other eyes, so that only they would know. Behruth didn't want to bother other dragons that might have passed overhead...some of the young ones, especially, would be upset to see him like this. Something he would never want.
Checkoth's words were gradually calming him down. It was a little strange, really, how you could be almost okay when you didn't talk about it - as soon as he'd said something he'd grown steadily more upset instead of just uneasy. But he knew from His that the upset had to be there to get rid of the uneasy, he'd just...he could feel the irritation of His, the frustration. And it made him feel bad. He knew His was trying to help, and wanted to be comforted for him, but ShortyHis couldn't comfort, or even really understand. It had been the same with Checkoth's. So Behruth's problem had grown in silence. Checkoth, though, seemed to understand. He made sense, too.
You're right, Checkbrother. You are not like them, and still you wanted to eat them for hurting Yours. If Checkoth could want to hurt or kill, then maybe it wasn't so bad that Behruth had wanted to...there was no way Checkbrother could ever be bad or evil. It's just...I don't believe all the 'others' really want to hurt us, either. What if they are just scared for Theirs? I do not like these wars. They are human wars, not dragon wars. Why must they fight, why must they make us fight?
M'ta naturally got up with R'wign, leaning against him and wrapping his arms around his weyrmate in return, burying his face into his shoulder. It crossed his mind, yes, to talk to him about Behruth. About how he couldn't seem to comfort his own mindmate, and how completely inadequate it made him feel, but...getting emotional on R'wign was something M'ta didn't like to do if he could help it. Not because he didn't trust his weyrmate; he did. R'wign got upset, seeing M'ta upset, though. In this case, he really didn't see what R'wign could do about it. Behruth would have to come to terms with the fact that, Ciceroth's wing or no, he was probably going to end up facing dragons again. Hurt them. Kill them. Or be killed, and much as M'ta hated distressing Behruth, the thought of losing him was so hard to bear he couldn't contemplate it. And Ka'rys and Ciceroth were the only ones he trusted to teach Behruth what he needed to survive if this war really did migrate south.
A small, half-laugh, but it was something. He squeezed his weyrmate tighter for a moment before pulling back, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "I figure that if my hands get infected when I'm living with the Weyrhealer, they were simply destined to be infected," he teased quietly. M'ta was bad about pushing himself too much, but R'wign made that hard, most of the time. He'd try to be good. Really. And of course his hands were actually stinging now that he'd noticed their state. Of course. He curled his fingers in toward his palm, glancing around to make sure he wasn't leaving anything. M'ta knew one thing, though...he didn't want to be alone right now. Candlemarks left to his thoughts, a bow, and Ruth had frazzled his nerves. "Must really be worried I'll start sparring with your bronzerider friend or something, to put up with me in the kitchens with you," he commented dryly, flashing a smile. "You're always complaining about how distracting I am. I think I'll take advantage of the offer before you think better of it."
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Post by glamourie on May 31, 2010 1:35:50 GMT -5
Because people are stuck in their ways. They have fought this way for Turns; they are not like us, who know better. This is all that they know. It is very sad, Checkoth crooned softly to his clutchbrother, his head nuzzling the smaller brown between his shoulder blades. R’wignmine described it once as ‘victims of circumstance.’ The dragons, they don’t know any better because it’s all that they have seen, and the riders are the same. They don’t know their way is wrong, that there is better ways, and we can’t just tell them because they won’t believe us. The best we can hope for is to keep ourselves safe – and ours – and those that we care for, and hope that someday they see that our way is the right way. Checkoth nuzzled Behruth more insistently, his eyes whirling. His brother’s upset bothered him in the sense that he wanted to fix it – he really did. He would do most anything to make Behruth feel better – because Ruth was his. His brother, his best friend. I think it’s normal to be furious when people hurt Ours, or those we care about. It’s normal to be willing to fight to protect those who are important to us. And as long as it’s to protect, and not pointless harms, we will never be like those ones... because we do know the difference. I don’t think you should worry, Ruthmine. You are too wonderful to ever be like those ones.
The really sad part? Checkoth believed what he was saying so completely that he didn’t think Behruth could doubt him. He had a hard time imagining anyone he knew as monstrous, but most definitely not his Ruth. He was probably way worse – he didn’t feel any regret at considering knocking that Creature off the ledge for hurting His, and not even Behruth’s blatant upset made him question his judgment. The man would’ve deserved it. When he picked R’wignHis, it was a promise to love and protect him forever –the only thing he would have changed was how (un)successful he’d been in that regard. Those outside the infirmary not only deserved what they got – but so much more. They were the Monsters. Not RuthHis.
“Like I can stop you from using them. My M’ta is very stubborn,” R’wign lamented, his lips brushing so gently over his weyrmate’s hair as to almost be imperceptible. His arms moved around the smaller man’s shoulders, equally gentle; he could easily squirm away if he wanted. He didn’t think that M’ta was going to be in any hurry to escape his touches though. He rarely was. “You do need to go easy on them though – hand injuries are some of the most frustrating, and the more you mess with them, the more sore they’ll become, until using your hands at all will be almost impossible. Then you’ll sulk, lover, because you’ll be close to helpless. While I don’t mind the idea of you needing me to tag along and help look after you, you will. Listen to the healer~ I have experience with hand wounds. They suck.” He’d had fingers broken during the Fort attack. Yes, they definitely sucked.
His expression changed to a pleasant smile after a second and he tilted his head down to press his forehead against M’ta’s, the expression completely, genuinely content. “I’m having weyrmate withdrawals. You didn’t come to shift, didn’t bring me lunch – I missed you.” His lips moved down to press to the tip of M’ta’s nose before he turned, deliberately tugging him along toward the stairs that led into the Weyr. “It has nothing to do with worry over you and Ka’rys doing some weird macho mating ritual, which by the way, I am totally in favor of if it brings you back to me covered in sweat.” He tsked before smiling. “You’re not allowed to touch anything in the kitchens, of course, but I’m fine with you being in there with me. You can be my taste-tester – let me know if anything I make is any good. Sometimes I worry that I’m biased...”
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on May 31, 2010 17:53:07 GMT -5
Behruth was...uncertain. He loved his clutchbrother to distraction, there was no denying that, and he wanted to believe everything Checkbrother said - wanted to have faith in anything like that - as unwaveringly as he did. But he kept on running into the same snag. Behruth didn't believe he was better than 'them.' Or different. Checkbrother might be, because Checkbrother never doubted, saw everything so clearly. He could only wonder if the other dragons weren't saying the same things about them. And if they didn't do things this better way, as Checkbrother said, didn't that make them just as much 'victims of circumstance' as the others? Sure, now it didn't sit well with Behruth or some of the other dragons at Selenitas, but in a few turns? A few more clutches? He didn't want to fight the other dragons because they had their own ShortyMines, their own Checkbrothers who would be sad if they were gone. Didn't they? That didn't mean he wanted to risk his ShortyMine or his Checkbrother, but he saw no end to it. Just more death. It made him very sad.
And he didn't want to be part of that.
How far did you go to protect, after all? ShortyHis believed offense was the best protection, striking before others could. Not waiting for them to plan so that they could hurt you easier, more. He understood how that made sense. When did it stop being protection, and became...pointless? I worry how far to go to protect...I'm sorry, Checkbrother. I know you're right. I do. But I don't see it ending and it makes me sad. Although, strangely, less upset now. It was almost a tired sadness that he felt. Behruth nuzzled his clutchbrother lightly. "It makes me angry and sad that they make me hurt Theirs to protect Ours. It is not a very fair thing to do."
M'ta knew that R'wign was right, the smaller man nodding slightly in response, but mostly just stood in his weyrmate's embrace and enjoyed that while it lasted. It helped, more than he'd likely admit, just to be held. "I will try," he responded simply. Honestly. He would. It might not be enough, given how easy it was for him to forget, but he would try, if only because he didn't like snapping at R'wign and he was bound to do so if forced to rely on the other man for virtually everything. Pride, perhaps, but it was a pride he wasn't about to be rid of any time soon. Nor did he believe that much of anyone liked to be that helpless. Tch.
Feeling an odd mixture of contentment and guilt, he followed after R'wign, only to laugh aloud at the queer comment. "Macho...what? He'd be twitching right now to hear you say that." Probably. Maybe. Ka'rys wasn't too bad about the homosexual thing, but yeah, he definitely seemed awkward about most things alluding to the topic. Unsurprisingly. "I think I'm sweaty enough right now to suit your needs," he added slyly. "Seeing as how I haven't bathed all day. Maybe we'll get lucky and my stench will clear out the kitchens for us." He pressed into R'wign's side. "I think I like the sound of that job."
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Post by glamourie on Jun 2, 2010 13:18:50 GMT -5
Only as far as they make you go. You know, sometimes I think that you are a lot more like R’wignmine than either of you realize. You are thinking too much – analyzing it too much. You’re looking for a reason to feel bad, and you will find one if you keep hunting. You can find anything if you’re looking for it. You’re not like them, Ruthmine; I know that. Not you and not ShortyYours, not me and not mine. We are different, and we only do what we have to do to survive. They may too – but it is better to survive than let others kill you. Will it end any time soon? In our lifetime? I don’t think so. I want to believe it will but it has been going on much longer. R’wignmine remembers things from long before I hatched that were just as bad. We can only change small things – starting with what we do. And we don’t hurt unless we are forced.
Checkoth nuzzled the back of Behruth’s neck gently, his tongue coming out to flick over the smaller brown’s hide with a tender affection that was undeniable. He believed what he was saying. Maybe he was something of a pacifist – he certainly could never attack someone first – but he wasn’t completely. If his choices were to let something happen to R’wign, or fight... he’d always choose fighting. Because those were strangers, and they would mean to harm, and R’wignHis would never intentionally harm someone first. It was such a simple mentality that some might have laughed, but Checkoth truly, completely believed it. His would never hurt anyone – so anyone meaning to hurt His was bad. Black and white was his affection for R’wign. Yes, he saw some flaws in His; there were times when he tried to ignore them, but he couldn’t permanently. Regardless, though, he knew that he loved His unfailingly... and he knew His better than he did himself. He was starting to think that Behruth was much the same case. He obviously didn’t know that he was wonderful. Silly RuthHis. Checkoth had utmost, total faith in him unfailingly. Just as R’wign would never hurt anyone unless they deserved it, neither would Behruth.
Black and white, yes, was Checkoth’s mentality with those that he liked. He most definitely liked Behruth.
“He’s just never around when we need him to be, is he? Tch,” R’wign commented, rolling his eye. He was pretty sure Ka’rys was getting used to his commentaries, actually; he wasn’t exactly subtle, ever, and he’d made more than one jab about the bronzerider’s obvious fondness for his wingsecond. (“So how’s your boyfriend E’rro today? Oh wait, I can ask him myself, heh.”) He was probably getting close to numb to it – then again, possibly not. He was a northern bronzerider and he took it ridiculously personally. He didn’t seem to be too upset over other people participating in homosexual activities, so long as he didn’t have to witness them, but talking about him doing it tended to make Ka’rys stammer and react oddly. Or, it used to. He mostly just gave dirty looks. He was numbing to it, yes, in his own way. “We are going to have to put a leash on him so that he can be here when we want him to amuse us. You buy it, I’ll get him to wear it.”
R’wign stroked his hand down M’ta’s arm before curling his fingers through his weyrmate’s. It was probably silly but he took express care not to touch his fingertips – they were bound to be quite sore. He leaned close to M’ta and smiled before planting a light kiss to the top of his head. “Most definitely sweaty enough, but I’m betting that you haven’t eaten and I won’t have you fainting on me while I get my fix.” He actually was pretty sure that M’ta needed time to relax, ‘cool off’ as it were – even if M’ta didn’t acknowledge it, being outside all day was probably exhausting in its own way. And he was very obviously tense. Cooking and flirting ridiculously with one another was sure to make M’ta feel better, and that was his goal. Checkoth could handle Behruth. He’d fix the one that he was sure would appreciate his meddling – if he even figured it out at all. “Besides, you never turn down food from me. Don’t tell me you’re starting now. You’ll hurt my feelings.”
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on Jun 3, 2010 0:34:02 GMT -5
One thing, for sure, Checkoth was right about: they really couldn't control what anyone else did. He was probably letting too many of the fears of His in. ShortyHis, who refused to stay around people when angry...not because his words were sharp like some assumed, or at least, not entirely. Because when ShortyHis got mad, sometimes he just lost all concept of what he was doing. Was it the same anger? Yes, yes, he thought it was, but last time they hadn't lost the sense of where they were, or lost purpose. Even hurting Kyrahth...that was to protect Rinagth, wasn't it? And so what if part of the anger had been because they could do nothing for Checkbrother and His? It was still to protect Rinagth. He held onto that thought while it still lingered.
If it is only to protect...then it can't be bad, Behruth agreed, with just the barest hint of questioning behind the words. I am sorry, Checkbrother. I am being silly. He nosed his clutchbrother's shoulder lightly, entwining his tail with Checkoth's and relaxing slightly. What has the Checkbrother been doing while I watch ShortyMine attacking the sand with arrows? Sometimes, though he knew why it couldn't be, he wished he could have his clutchbrother with him for drills. He truly did. While he could have gone to find him instead of stayed on the sands today...a lack of motivation, perhaps. Behruth crooned to his brother quietly.
M'ta snorted softly. "I would like to see how you got Ka'rys to wear a leash. You, on the other hand, apparently already have one that goes with that collar. One of these days, I'll steal it from Kalierre, and then we'll see how easy it is for you to scurry off on me," he concluded teasingly. M'ta was just as careful with his fingertips as R'wign had been, though it didn't keep him from holding his weyrmate's hand quite firmly; he had no intention of letting go anytime soon, clearly. In fact, the Weyrhealer might just have to make dinner one-handed, the way M'ta was feeling presently, because extracting his hand was going to take quite a bit of coaxing, bribery, and possibly deception.
Wrinkling his nose slightly at R'wign, he tsked audibly. "I just said that I liked the sound of taste-testing...now how is that turning down your food, hm?" He pressed carefully into the other man's side. "For the record, though, I would not faint if you got distracted on the way. So little faith." M'ta didn't mention that it was his weyrmate who got very shaky when he hadn't eaten, mostly because that wasn't really a teasing matter. Not to M'ta. "What will we be making, then?" Yes, he'd said 'we.' No touching was a suggestion in his mind, that it was. M'ta wasn't very good at the no touching rule, although that usually applied more to R'wign than the food.
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Post by glamourie on Jun 3, 2010 8:53:29 GMT -5
It isn’t, Checkoth insisted, nuzzling Behruth’s side affectionately. He seemed like he was calming down some – which was good. Checkoth didn’t like seeing RuthHis upset. You are silly, but you shouldn’t apologize. I like silly. Look at who Mine is. There was definite ‘laughter’ in those words. R’wign had to take the cake on being silly and ridiculous and just odd. He was entirely unique and yes, Checkoth loved him unfailingly because of it and in spite of it at the same time. Behruth was much the same situation – though admittedly, his affection for R’wign was definitely higher than the love he felt for his clutchbrother. R’wign was His, after all. The question made him rumble, and his eyes whirled. R’wignmine was in the Smelly place. So I was outside, staying with him. He and I have taken to trying to one-up each other in rhymes and he wins because he knows more words. He answered one of the apprentices with the answer that he meant to be for me. I said ‘Cripple’ and he said ‘Nipple’ when they were asking about something relating to healing. He found that highly amusing and was trying to blame me. They didn’t believe him though.
It was close to impossible to truly embarrass R’wign – so the comment had led to him flailing a little, then laughing it up; Checkoth was immensely amused. Of course, the brown didn’t really understand why ‘nipple’ would be an inappropriate response to a question, “Where is the extra redwort stores?” either. At least not inappropriate enough to merit such laughter and awkward stammering. R’wignHis hadn’t explained it either but it was one of those things that Checkoth thought better than to probe for. Humans were very odd. Do you want to swim with me, Ruthmine? It is very warm. It might feel better to go swimming~
“She’s got a leash for it?” That surprised him, though why he couldn’t say. R’wign reached up and rubbed his nose before his hand dropped to his collar and adjusted it. “Do I scurry away from you a lot? I thought we were practically attached at the hip, personally. People are always commenting that we need to go back to our weyr.” There was definite laughter in his voice. “I do question why she keeps a leash for me though. You’d think she’d get more use out of it – I do a lot of scurrying away from her. Probably hasn’t dawned on her. Never fear, if I ever see this elusive leash, I will steal it. I’d much rather you haul me around by one than her.” That had so many kinky undertones that he couldn’t help but snicker to himself. Yes, he was completely okay with his weyrmate hauling him around by a leash and other things. Kalierre... not so much. He liked to joke with her, but that was all it was; joking. Meh.
Leaning closer to M’ta (he was obviously okay with having his hand enslaved), R’wign laughed. “It sounded like you were thinking of taste-testing something other than my food, babe,” he teased, though there was a definite thread of seriousness under his voice. It had sounded like that. M’ta knew how much he liked him all sweaty, so hmph. He didn’t argue the fainting point because it wasn’t centered on the lack of food, but rather the very obviously exhausting thinking process that he’d obviously been doing. No sense rubbing his nose in that fact when he seemed adequately distracted. As for what they’d be making? “I’m going to guess ‘sweet love’ is an inappropriate response. I was thinking something lighter, like that vegetable pizza concoction from before. Too hot for anything heavy. You got an opinion?”
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on Jun 8, 2010 18:33:16 GMT -5
Behruth couldn't help but be amused. Yes, Checkoth's was definitely silly at times; he made ShortyHis laugh (or huff) quite often as a result. Feeling a good deal better - though Checkoth hadn't erased all his anxiety - he listened to the other brown's description of the cripple nipple incident with similar befuddlement. Perhaps it has something to do with Flying? Humans are unusually awkward about Flying. And he knew that His liked being touched there so it seemed a safe enough guess.
Checkoth's suggestion was met with a delighted croon from the smaller brown. Yes, it would be nice to get out of the heat, and the cool water should soothe the ache in his muscles left over from drills - if not the phantom ache that pulling on the bow had produced in ShortyHis. Nudging lightly to be freed of his clutchbrother's full-body embrace, Behruth asked, This rhyming game. Is there any prize for winning, or is it just to pass the time? It might be fun to play, I think. The light curiosity behind the words should make it clear enough that the majority of the young brown's distress had dissipated.
R'wign didn't know about the leash? Now that was amusing, and M'ta couldn't resist the small smirk in response, even if he'd had the inclination to. The smaller man reached up, tugging lightly on the collar. "You mean I don't already have you on a leash? Not doing my job nearly well enough. Clearly." He didn't comment on R'wign's habit of avoiding uncomfortable topics (both physically and otherwise) because his weyrmate was getting better about that. General rule of thumb: if they're working on it, don't bring it up as an issue.
Bumping against R'wign lightly with his hip, the brownrider tsked. "Your mind is most definitely rolling around in the mud today, isn't it? Yes, that's inappropriate." He lowered his voice as they began navigating through the more crowded sections of the Weyr. "When have I ever not taken care of you? Cool it down a bit." Not that it wasn't obvious from the ripple of laughter lingering behind his words that M'ta was both amused and just a little pleased. "I like the vegetable pizza a lot. Honestly, a simple salad would be fine, too. I'm not as hungry when I spend the whole day outside, odd as it seems." M'ta leaned against R'wign companionably.
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