Captured (R'wign)

[glamourie]

Most likely. Mine makes flying jokes way too often – people respond so oddly. Especially Yours. He loves to pick at yours. It makes him very happy, Checkoth explained amiably. He didn’t know why His found it so amusing but he knew that he did and well – whatever made His most happy was okay with Checkoth. Crooning, he gingerly uncurled himself from around Behruth and stretched, his wings flaring almost directly upward over him and his tails both sticking out straight – no doubt in quite the comical pose. The only prize is knowing that I beat R’wignmine. He’s very sneaky, though, you see. I think he makes words up in order to win. He doesn’t like losing very much so he plots wickedness. You should help me come to triumph over him, you and Yours. Of course, as I say that he’s amused – he doesn’t think Yours can beat him at words either. He thinks he’s sooooo smart. It’s just a time-passing thing though, because I don’t like the SmellyPlace. It reminds me of bad times. So when he goes there, I make him talk to me, when Phremath is not around. Phremath plays with me though.

Twisting, Checkoth turned and literally rolled until he was in the surf of the water. His tails twitched and he crouched down, moving backwards on his feet, until most of his body was submerged – and then playfully, he swung his wings forward, splashing at Behruth. The glint in his multifaceted eyes was decidedly mischievous. Playful, even. See what I can do. Operation distraction commenced.

His rider, ever-naughty, didn’t even bother to disguise the smirk that flashed over his features at M’ta’s question and he suggestively eyed his weyrmate. He didn’t make much effort to hide that yes, he very much enjoyed being bound and tied up from time to time. So yes, he liked the idea of a leash... very much in the literal sense. He pressed himself against M’ta as the smaller man grabbed his collar and let that suggestive look pass over his face, one hand coming up to stroke his weyrmate’s jaw while he spoke – uninterrupting, for there was no need to speak the thoughts dancing through his mind. M’ta knew him more than well enough to be able to guess and there was something incredibly sexy about a mystery anyway. He did so love to tease his M’ta.

“It always rolls around in the mud when I’ve had a decided lack of weyrmate attention all day. You neglect me terribly, I will wither away at the rate you’re going,” R’wign playfully said with a pout. He wasn’t quite as bad as all that. Most of his comments were meant to distract M’ta. Just as Checkoth was trying to distract Behruth from his obvious upset, R’wign was trying to get his weyrmate’s mind off the things bothering him. An upset M’ta was a very upsetting thing to him. On the subject of food once more, R’wign tilted his head and hummed thoughtfully to himself – the corridors were becoming more and more familiar; he didn’t need to even watch where he was going. Probably for the better considering he had one entire blind side to deal with (and his depth perception took a turn to fully recover from that injury, too). “I don’t like salads much. I only eat them if I’m too lazy to make anything else. I mean, I can make you one if you really want one but I find them tasteless and just plain boring.” He crinkled his nose. “I prefer the pizza because it’s cooler, and has a generally more flavorful appeal. I guess it depends on what you really want, but not being hungry when you’re out in the heat isn’t that odd. It’s a biological defense mechanism since your body temperature goes up and that can lead to vomiting. Cool, hm?”

[Requiem]

Mine says he knows plenty of words, and can make up what he doesn't just as easily as the next person, Behruth responded, clearly amused by the reaction of His to the information he'd shared. Competitive streak? ShortyHis? Never. Crooning softly in remembrance of how little he liked the Smelly Place, as Checkoth liked to refer to it, Behruth nuzzled his clutchbrother lightly in passing. The smaller brown moved toward his favorite dragon a couple of steps, tail sweeping the loose earth of the riverbank in a movement that had a distinct feline feel to it. The brilliant luster that was a distinguishing characteristic for the male had almost fully returned.

Behruth mirrored the crouch, his own wings sweeping forward in a belated attempt to shield himself from Checkoth's water attack. Letting his wings fall, the brown's jaws parted slightly in a playful baring of his teeth while the water that had managed to penetrate dripped down off his snout. A low, rumbling growl sounded in his throat, the smaller dragon gathering his muscles into a spring and batting playfully for Checkoth's head. It was more to distract him, however, as his tail swept forward, dragging through the water in an attempt to splash the male's left side.

A light snort at the clearly naughty look was all R'wign got for his troubles...well, that and an almost thoughtful expression that ended with a sudden - and subtle, if you didn't pay close attention - flush to his features. One that terminated pretty swiftly when the focus shifted to their usual teasing. Easy to ignore the interesting inappropriate turn of his thoughts when R'wign was busy whining about neglect. His eyes slitted, an elbow nudging firmly against the taller man's ribs. "I'm half-tempted to truly ignore you for a bit, so you figure out what neglect is," he grumped harmlessly, a pointed sniff punctuating the words. "Shouldn't give me reason to stay away. Now I know it makes you horny."

M'ta cocked his head curiously to one side, then apparently decided that R'wign really only needed one arm. He wrapped himself partially around the other one shamelessly, resting his head against his weyrmate's shoulder. "Hm. Yeah, pretty cool. If that's the case, I'll probably get hungrier later...and I can distract you longer if we're making pizza," he added contentedly. While falling into their usual picking, teasing roles was easy and comfortable, M'ta wasn't feeling that mischievous presently...not enough to start anything himself. The contact and the company was more than enough for him, the brownrider simply leaning into his best friend. "Maybe Jazz would be willing to take Teri for another night - or Meira - so we can make up for lost time uninterrupted," he murmured, just loud enough for R'wign to hear over the sound of many bodies moving back and forth.

[glamourie]

Yours really does just walk right into his traps. I can see why R’wignmine picks on him so much. There was definite laughter in that response – not unlike the way R’wign laughed at M’ta when he puffed up and got indignant. Checkoth, too, found the way that ShortyRuth’s responded to be amusing – though not quite for the same reasons that R’wign did nor to the same level. R’wignmine also says that he needn’t talk through you when they are standing right next to each other – and as Checkoth spoke to Behruth, R’wign may or may not have “accidentally” pinched M’ta’s backside, - but I think they’re funny. HEY! Hey, you’re not supposed to splash back. That was not part of the game! Despite the protest, it was fairly obvious that Checkoth did not mind in the least that he was splashed. In fact, he was quite amused by it. Silly BehruthHis, trying to be sneaky! He rolled over in the water – literally – and used both of his tails to splash at Behruth. Laying on his side as he was, he looked more like a playful weyrling than a fully grown dragon, and the whirl of his eyes emphasized that childlike quality; playing, playing, playing. These were the things that made Checkoth most happy, yes yes. The only thing that could be improved upon would be to have His out there being doused too – but he was buuuusy.

Buuuusy making M’ta bluuush. R’wign resisted the urge to smirk smugly at his weyrmate, having definitely noticed that ever-so-slight pink tinge to his cheeks. He was most definitely corrupting his M’ta and in that moment, R’wign did not care at all. So maybe he took a little bit of pride in being able to make M’ta squirm and think naughty, naughty thoughts without trying. Maybe. But at least it was harmless. There were a lot worse things he could pride himself upon, after all. The threat was disregarded as empty because R’wign knew that it was; if he tried, he was pretty sure M’ta couldn’t tell him no to much. Especially not when he launched into full-on affection mode. Hell, R’wign was pretty sure if he asked nicely M’ta’d have a hard time saying no. (This being because he didn’t often try that route – he usually settled for being sneaky/manipulative/evil. That was more entertaining and it left the polite, sweet route ever-so-effective in case of emergency. R’wign was manipulative beyond words, after all.)

“Staying away. Coming around. Coming and going. Grumpy and happy. Whatever. Abusing me.”

Nudging M’ta back, R’wign wrapped his arm tightly around his weyrmate and kissed the top of his head in innocent affection. Public or not, he really had no problem just... touching, touching, touching. R’wign was a very physically affectionate individual and always had been. He was happiest getting to cuddle or hold hands, and as long as he had that, he was not likely to have any serious complaints. A lot of little whiny ones, but no real ones that were liable to explode into big, catastrophic events. R’wign was pretty passively happy anymore, too, though. Very content with life.

“You’ll be ravenous later, actually, from all the energy you’ve extended. You’re just not feeling it because heat is gross. And yes, you can distract me longer if we’re making pizza,” R’wign replied drolly before nuzzling his weyrmate’s hair. “Does your sister have time to babysit?” He didn’t really talk to Jazheera much, mainly because he had the distinct feeling that she did not like him. He couldn’t fault her: he had her brother’s attention most of the time. He’d have been jealous too, but he was the one coming out on top so hey, nothing to be jealous over. “I think Meira probably has more time, but Teri and Riaren don’t get along that fabulously.” Teri didn’t seem to like sharing toys or attention much. Riaren was so easy going that it was also hard to see him defending himself. “And it’d do Teri good to be around females, making up for lost time aside. Sometimes I worry she’s going to grow up and act just like some weird fusion of us. Which basically means we’d have another Kale on our hands. Yikes.”

[Requiem]

Mine is a grumbly, easily irked little ball of harmless twitches. I pick on him often when Yours isn't, Behruth responded, his own amusement nearly matching Checkoth's. He says Yours is perfectly capable of opening his mouth and talking to him, too. There were several other comments there, a few regarding that pinch, but none particularly appropriate or worth repeating. So Behruth determined. At any rate, he was enjoying his game with Checkoth more, and not paying a terribly large amount of attention to His. The smaller brown hopped back slightly, not avoiding the second splash at all, his neck arched and the gentle swirl of his eyes quickening with their game. I will remember that next time. Checkoth's game involves splashing his poor little clutchbrother, who is not to do anything but sadly stand there and drip a puddle lake. Right now, though, we are playing my game. So saying, he pounced on his brother's tails. Hah, try to splash him with them now.

M'ta squinted up at R'wign in open confusion. What was he talking about? It sounded like he was channeling one of the less comprehensible salamandyrs, just throwing out words. The smaller of the brownriders mentally shrugged. Most likely it was something with dirty undertones; it usually was. "I might be more worn out than I thought. You're making no sense to me," he commented dryly.

Leaning more fully into R'wign, there was little doubt M'ta was more than content to be touched. (Truthfully, the smaller of the brownriders was exceedingly tactile, which was probably why it bothered him so much to be touched by anyone he didn't fully trust, particularly men. Women fell under a slightly different category. The man was, yes, sexist as most men - and women - actually were. He had few qualms touching one of the 'gentler' sex in a comforting gesture. But the truth was the genders were different, touches meant different things, and if people wanted to call it sexism to acknowledge those differences and treat the genders differently as a result...then well, you might as well call it prejudice to deal with one friend differently than another, too. People weren't the same. So why should they be treated the same?)

"Hm. I'm not sure, but it can't hurt to ask. Dhavalth adores babies of any kind, and Teri's taken to my sister a lot." To be fair, though, Teri seemed to like everyone she'd met thus far. Such a happy, energetic little girl. A bit attention-demanding, yes, but that was more than common for a child of that age. As long as genuine bad behavior wasn't reinforced, he found no reason not to give her most of the attention she wanted. Besides, he and R'wign were busy enough that she spent enough time in the creche and with other people not to be completely spoiled rotten. It was...important...to M'ta, to make sure Teri knew how loved she was, important for her to have a lot of contact with her parents and her relatives. To a street 'orphan' there was little more important than that in the raising of his daughter. "From what I've seen, they get along okay...but yeah, she's a bit of an attention hog. I prefer to leave her with Jazz, anyway." He did. He didn't voice it, but Teri wasn't R'wign's biological child, and she wasn't Meira's. Not a problem in and of itself, but involve Riaren in that equation and, well...M'ta preferred to leave her with someone where she didn't come out second every time. Intentionally or no.

He loved R'wign, but the favoritism could not be denied. And M'ta had an irrational need to make up for it with Teri whenever around Meira and Riaren. It had long since become a mildly uncomfortable set of circumstances that he tended to avoid.

A chuckle escaped him. "You have to be a little fair, now. We didn't get ahold of Kale until she was seven. There's a heavy Ka'rys influence involved in there, and probably her mother. Teri's likely to be worse," he concluded, nipping at R'wign's jaw teasingly.

[glamourie]

Mine knows. He says you take up the reins when he isn’t there and for that he is very pleased. He claims with you around he never has to worry about Shorty becoming rigid, Checkoth revealed, sneakily. He also knew very well that His was ‘eavesdropping’ on their conversation – doubtlessly snatching snippets up to use against M’ta later. The fact that Behruth was calming down also pleased R’wign for more than just the obvious fact of him being attached to (and thus upsetting by proxy) his weyrmate. Checkoth knew – even if he’d never say it – that His was quite fond of Behruth. Not as fond of him as Checkoth was, but still very fond. It was a good feeling to the two-tailed brown, knowing that His liked his clutchbrother almost as much as he did. Behruth was his best friend after R’wign. He understood that concept. His had tried to explain what it was like to ‘love’ to him to no avail – but friendship and fondness, he could grasp that. His said it was close enough, and he believed him. Considering that R’wign rarely formed opinions about other people’s dragons (beyond mild irritation with Jingth, despite his constant flattery of her – but R’wign did not like queens, not even Millieth all that much, for things that happened long before he hatched), that he liked Behruth was yes, yes, yes, a very good thing indeed.

Squirming, Checkoth turned and playfully swatted at Behruth with his foreleg, while trying to jerk both of his tails free. First he tugged on the left. Then the right. Then he did the draconic version of full-fledged pouting. Tail-thief.

Few could compare to how much R’wign adored M’ta though. It was a touch ironic considering that no, M’ta wasn’t his first weyrmate and before him, he’d also been convinced that he was very much straight. He still thought he had to be mostly-straight, that stemming from the fact that there was not a single male on Pern that he was attracted to other than M’ta nor did it ever dawn on him that he could find any other man remotely appealing. Flirting with Sel’n aside, he honestly didn’t even think of men that way, though he did stop to consider whether women were pretty or not. That might’ve made him superficial; he honestly was not sure. It wasn’t like he considered anyone for more than a second of ‘She’s nice to look at’ though – so he liked to think he was entitled to being a little shallow. Okay, a lot shallow.

“Do I ever make sense?” The question was half to himself, half to M’ta. He honestly didn’t know how much sense he made on a regular basis because, shock, awe, R’wign tended to just say whatever came to mind when it came to M’ta. Other people, he censored himself heavily. His weyrmate just brought out the natural R’wign – for good and bad. (And if he complained about it, R’wign would definitely kick his ass.) “You could always ask Ruliana if she wants to help. I don’t know if she likes children or not, but she and your sister seem to be friends.” R’wign did not claim Ruliana as his sister, not in any typical sense of the word. He was nice enough to the girl, and he’d never have disowned her to her face, but he didn’t think of her as his family. He thought of her as a northern girl who didn’t know how to handle herself at all – it was probably not the kindest opinion to have of one’s only relative on the same continent (aside from his son), but it had foundation. He’d gotten into a fight trying to get her out of trouble... and she hadn’t spoken to him since. Tch.

He didn’t really prefer Terilyn to be with M’ta’s sister, because M’ta’s sister didn’t like him. Meira tolerated him, maybe even liked him, but she at least never spoke ill of him. He didn’t trust M’ta’s sister that much, but R’wign also was smart enough not to give voice to that insecurity. He was determined not to be a wedge between them – no matter what the bluerider seemed to think.

Their arrival at the kitchens had him gently unwinding himself from M’ta with a wry smile. “This is true. Teri won’t have Ka’rys’s secretive streak, she’ll be blunt about how she thinks she’s better than everyone else. Such a shame,” he teased before kissing his weyrmate’s nose. “Let me know what your sister says. And lemme go so I can cook, distracting fiend.”

[Requiem]

Yours is very welcome. ShortyMine isn't nearly as fun stiff. He could tell that His had, by and large, directed most of his attention to Checkoth's due to a lack of response to that comment. Not that Behruth truly needed it; he was quite content to have captured his clutchbrother's tails, a soft growl punctuating his acquisition. The growl swiftly turned toward a croon. But Checkbrother is ever so unfair, he responded, almost silkily. Hoarding all the tails for himself. Why is it that he needs two? I think my Checkbrother is the one who is the tail thief. I, as you see, have only one. His tail swept over the ground in punctuation, just as he released the larger brown's tails and pounced him, licking his neck and snout. I claim you as my dragonMine. What shall you do now?

M'ta snorted quietly. "Given I just said I must be worn out since you're making no sense? Context, R'wign. If you don't ever make sense, then I must not make sense in the same way." He nuzzled his shoulder, the words quiet with contentment and containing little else in them. His weyrmate's insecurities were, by and large, receding. But they were by no means alien to him. R'wign had stopped questioning a lot of things he used to question, and grown comfortable enough not to need to try to hide the discomfort. M'ta could tell that he'd steadied. Significantly. And it made him glad, not because R'wign was easier to deal with - though he was - but because he seemed...happy. Checkoth. Anyone else causing this stability he might have been jealous of, but not Checkoth.

"Yes, they're friends." He glanced upward toward R'wign's face for a moment. Though he'd sort of thought that his weyrmate wasn't seeing Ruli, M'ta hadn't been sure until now. The brownriders didn't spend every waking moment together, despite what R'wign's earlier words might have suggested. Mostly just the late afternoon and evening (and of course the nighttime hours), apart from shared infirmary shifts. When M'ta wasn't missing them due to an obsessive need to fruitlessly shoot pointy sticks at things. So no, he didn't know everything R'wign was up to, and had no need to know, either. People had to have a life separate from their weyrmates, in M'ta's opinion...if only because it made the time they did share together that much more peaceful. Anyone could annoy you after extended exposure without a break.

The smaller man whimpered in protest, clutching onto his arm for an extra moment - if only to prove he could - before reluctantly releasing his weyrmate. For now. His eyes briefly clouded, followed by a rapid blink. "She'll take Teri, and plans to ask Ruli to help." Leaning up against the counter opposite R'wign, he shook his head slightly. "I have a hard time believing anyone who lived with you could have too vast an ego. Mr. Refuses to Lose." M'ta had taken to studying the bloody ends of his fingers, before curling them into his palms again. "Pride is quite efficiently squelched and shown its place."

[glamourie]

I have two because I am Checkoth, and Checkoths must all have two tails, the larger of the two browns replied, in what was an obvious case of “dragon logic.” It simply was that way because it had to be that way. Once upon a time, he’d been very insecure about his tails. They weren’t normal and how could he have two? They’d made learning to fly difficult because he was off-balance, and yes, Checkoth thought something was wrong with him for the longest time because of the tails. He’d gotten over that as a weyrling though, mainly because of His. R’wign had told him time and again that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him and that having two tails just meant he was able to turn twice as fast. He’d certainly never gotten complaints from any dragon that mattered. Some of the northern ones seemed to scorn him – but how much of that was because of his personality and how much was because of his two tails, he couldn’t say. When it came to the mean dragons though, Checkoth simply avoided them. He didn’t chase greens that blooded, and he didn’t talk to the violent dragons. Simple, really.

And all Behruths must have one tail because they are Behruths. This is why stealing mine brings you to three and that is simply unacceptable. He squeaked in response to being pounced (having been mid-explanation and mid-tug of his tails, thus almost falling on the smaller brown) and responded by quite deliberately nudging Behruth’s neck. The touches were so affectionate as to draw a few odd looks – yes, odd looks. He didn’t care, making no effort to hide the very obvious affection he felt for his clutchbrother.

Snorting, R’wign poked M’ta in the shoulder. If asked, he’d have said very seriously that no, M’ta did not make a lick of sense. What kind of person fell for someone like him? He was a jerk more often than he was nice. Tch. But he didn’t give voice to that because it was beating the long-dead runner: he may not have understood it but he didn’t question it just the same. It was disrespectful to question. And pointless. No matter how much M’ta explained, he’d never understand and he didn’t want to anymore. He was happy in the knowledge that he was loved. It didn’t have to be something that he understood. In many ways, it was better because it wasn’t.

R’wign ignored the look and whimper – despite urges not to – and then turned to gather supplies for their meal. M’ta seemed distant (possibly asking?) and he used it to his advantage to spread out the ingredients over the counter. A bowl of clean water was also retrieved in the split second it took before M’ta answered and he bobbed his head agreeably. “Wash your hands, so that you can help me with this,” he teased with a light elbow to his weyrmate’s side. It was very much a companionable, affectionate gesture. “Whether or not I destroy egos notwithstanding, I’m honor-bound to let a girl win from time to time. You’re not a girl so I don’t have to let you.” There was a hint of laughter in those words as he moved to follow his own instructions – washing his hands and then moving to rinse the broccoli in the bowl of water. He’d gotten some creamed cheese out too – to warm to room temperature and be workable no doubt. “I’m glad they’re friends. I don’t have much to do with Ruliana. I think R’ahre and her talked a lot before – well, before R’ahre went missing...”

[Requiem]

I think having three tails is perfectly acceptable, as long as two are Checkoth tails. Checkoth is mine, so his two tails are already mine. I'm supposed to have three, he concluded, licking at Checkoth's maw as he shamelessly leaned full against the other dragon. The smaller then attempted very gamely to push his clutchbrother over into the water, pushing his shoulder into his flank and growling playfully. You are not swimming so well, CheckbrotherMine. Did you want some help? Another rather hefty shove followed, at least for a dragon of Behruth's size. Suddenly he stopped, a croon sounding in his throat as his eyes snared on the pretty riverstone gleaming in the shallows not far away. He considered it for a long moment, trying to decide whether or not he should add it to his collection.

"Yes, Master," he responded dryly, washing his hands off and watching the water turn faintly pink for a moment. He flicked the water droplets at R'wign. "I also don't need you to let me in order to win." Pulling out a cloth, he set about using the water to clear the sweat and dirt from the parts of his body not covered by clothing. R'wign's thing about a sweaty M'ta not withstanding, he doubted the man wanted sweat and dirt in his food. Just a hunch.

A flicker of a frown crossed his face for a moment. R'ahre. The one from the Main Hall, acting like M'ta was raping a drudge right there out in the open. And a jackass besides. R'wign's half-brother. He hadn't seen much of him, no, but they'd never been on the same wing and M'ta really rather disliked him so it wasn't like he ever saw much of him. Disappeared, hm? "I'm sorry." He knew R'wign and R'ahre weren't really close or anything. R'wign hadn't wanted to admit they were related at all. Still, the whole family thing was really important to some people (M'ta's sister included) and it was kind of presumptious to think R'wign didn't feel anything at all. "Are people still disappearing regularly? I haven't noticed." The frown deepened. You'd think Fort would have stopped such practices a turn ago. You'd think. Then again, he really couldn't see how Selenitas could stop them.

Scooting in closer to R'wign's elbow, he began poking - physically poking - at the various ingredients, as if that would somehow help in identifying them easier. (Which would have been unnecessary, anyway, because he wasn't that much of a stranger to the kitchens and food preparation. Nevermind that his role was usually repairman or simply the resident pest.) "Pizza requires dough." No shit. He grinned broadly, though. Dough meant flour. R'wign should know better than to let him near flour. A flour-coated finger found the man's nose and left a white smear down from the bridge to the tip. "Racing stripe. Now you'll be faster." He stuck the flour-coated finger in his mouth and turned back to the ingredients, possibly to find more things to bug his weyrmate with.

[glamourie]

I think your logic is flawed, Behruthmine. You are mine, not the other way around. You see, I claimed you a long time ago. Silly, silly clutchbrother. Checkoth’s amusement was undeniable as he nuzzled his clutchbrother’s jaw faintly. He obviously liked the attention, if the rapid cheerful whirling of his eyes was to be used as an assessment, and why shouldn’t he have? The only entity that he favored more than Behruth was R’wign and R’wign was too busy. Gentle touching and affection was one of the few things that always – regardless of his mood – relaxed him. Words couldn’t compare to physical contact. It was likely that he’d learned that from R’wign though – since R’wign was very much the same way. (The proof of that lay in the way that R’wign periodically clung to M’ta just for the sake of clinging – Checkoth would do the same thing to R’wign or Behruth when he was in a bad mood. He wasn’t right then though. He was actually very content.)

And in response to the gentle pushing, he replied, Noooo~ Sneaky Ruthmine. Crooning loudly, he flopped over in the water and rolled around before nudged his clutchbrother’s stomach firmly – fully intending on pushing Behruth into the water as well. You bribe me with affection and then launch a sneak attack. Most naughty, most naughty. I will have to teach you a lesson for that. I should sit on you.

“Of course you don’t,” R’wign replied indulgently, the tone implying that he was really only saying it to placate his weyrmate. Which he was, so it was okay. R’wign thought he won plenty often but R’wign was also prone to forgetting anything that didn’t fit in his perfect black-and-white world of R’wign being awesome and everyone else worshipping him, half the time. He knew very well that it was one of his bigger flaws, too. Did he care? Not a lick. M’ta didn’t gripe about it too much and he was happy most of the time. Besides – if he challenged him it’d be funner in the long run for them both. R’wign? Manipulative? Whatever would make you think that about someone as innocent as him? Tsk. “My mistake, lover, my mistake.”

The apology about R’ahre was flat out, blatantly ignored. R’wign didn’t want to think about it. He’d only mentioned it because it related to Ruliana – not anything else. R’ahre and him had never really spoken much and the younger man very obviously disliked him. In R’wign’s mind, his only sibling was Religna and Religna had died in the Siege turns ago – died to the same man who took his eye. His sister was gone. He shrugged in response to the question because he honestly didn’t know; R’wign was more focused on those close to him and since M’ta, Terilyn, Meira and Riaren were all fine, he didn’t really care all that much about what was going on around him. Someone could argue his mentality was selfish. R’wign would’ve agreed with it, too. He was incredibly selfish and totally, completely unapologetic about it. He was happy to care only for the people who he saw regularly. It meant less hurt in the end. No, R’wign didn’t want friends.

He was distracted by that thought until he felt M’ta’s finger sliding over his cheek. His eye narrowed and he turned before smearing cream cheese on his finger and down M’ta’s jaw in the shape of a heart. “Something to sweeten your mean self up. If I get faster, you’ll be left wanting.” Lewd was R’wign’s middle name. As an almost after thought, he tacked on, “Pumpernickel.” Find something that rhymed with that, hmph.

[Requiem]

It is your logic that is flawed CheckbrotherMine. We can both claim each other all at once, don't you know? Behruth liked being claimed by his favorite of all dragons, after all, and saw no need to refute that! But that didn't mean he was giving up his own claim, not at all. There need be no either/or situation here. They could claim each other. In fact, they should claim each other. Why not? Theirs had. Vex and PMS had. It only made sense that the brothers should possess each other as well. Nevermind that the others Ran and Flew. Claiming and mating didn't have to be the same thing. His claimed the TeriLittle, after all, and it would have been very weird and wrong, he extracted from the mind of His, to mate with her. (Behruth wasn't sure why except that she was young. Maybe it would be okay when she was older.)

Checkoth very much surprised Behruth. Possibly because his mind was occupied with matters of claiming and the pretty shiny. He went plop rather gracelessly, half on top of his clutchbrother. But you'll most definitely squish me flat if you do that, Checkbrother, he stated, wriggling in a show of trying to scramble up before Checkoth could make good on his threat. And if his wing just so happened to whack lightly against the side of the other browns head, why, of course that was an accident and not planned. He wasn't sneaky, after all! Just misunderstood.

Still perusing over the available options to him, the feel of something decidedly stickyish smearing over his cheek caused M'ta's eyes to narrow. Oh no he just hadn't. "Mean now, am I? Would hate to disappoint." Cue causually upending a bowl full of chopped celery down the back of R'wign's pants. There, now that he was fulfilling his role as resident meanie... Ignoring the lewd comment, he instead scrunched his nose up at this apparent random word game that R'wign had started. "Hyacinth? Cornflower? How bout sawgrass? I've never seen any...I don't suppose it actually acts like a saw, though that would be pretty sweet." With an elbow he slid the cottage cheese out of reach of his weyrmate, smiling up at him innocently.

[glamourie]

No no. You are mine, therefore, I have staked my claim. Simple really. Logic that sounded suspiciously like R’wign’s, that. Oh, he knew very well it was possible to ‘joint’ claim, but having been spending what could easily be dubbed ‘too much’ time with R’wign meant that Checkoth wanted to win – and winning meant somehow managing to out-argue. He didn’t really have the orneriness that His possessed though; he couldn’t hold out long arguments just to make a point. The proof of that came in the way that Checkoth quite literally flopped himself over, half-sprawled on Behruth despite the wing to the face, and he took to licking his clutchbrother’s head adoringly. It was hard to really upset Checkoth. To date, the only times he’d gotten really bothered involved R’wign getting hurt, R’wign keeping him out, and Behruth almost drowning – the latter he remembered so vividly that he got worked up any time His spoke to Millieth’s. He liked Millieth but he really hated the idea of Behruth ever being hurt – ever. Yes, if there was anyone he liked almost as much as R’wign, it was Behruth. (But no one could come anywhere near close to the love he felt for his rider, sadly.) You hit me in the face. You should be my pillow to make it up to me. I don’t think you would be crushed, Ruthmine, not at all. You’re not that much smaller than me.

If R’wign had any response to M’ta’s words, it was cut off by a yelp as he bounced around in his spot and wiggled, flailing his arms at his sides. Cold cold cold – sharding – fine. FINE! If M’ta’s intention was just to annoy, he likely got more than he bargained for, for at that moment, R’wign quite literally moved his hands from where he’d been chopping to unfasten his pants and yes, drop them to the floor in the middle of the kitchens unhesitatingly. What, nudity? What was that? If it dawned on him that the drudges might not like him flashing around his lack of pants, he didn’t seem to notice, actually stepping out of them to rinse some of the vegetables before gathering more celery the food. Brandishing some of the celery pieces at his weyrmate, he scowled.

“Rascal. Debacle.” He didn’t wait for a response to that, instead lining the vegetables up on the counter with the knife. Crouching down, R’wign gathered his pants and shook them until all the celery pieces were out, adding, “You suck at this rhyming game. See, I told Checkoth you’d suck at it, but you just insisted – tch. It’s okay. You’re at a disadvantage, being that you have the mental capacity of a two-turn-old. I forgive you. If you wanted me out of my pants, lover, all you had to do was ask. Now you can chop the celery you forgot, or you’re getting whatever the drudges are cooking for dinner.” There was definitely an edge of sternness to those words – he didn’t like chopping vegetables and he was quite exasperated with M’ta dumping them down his pants. But odds were it was an empty threat. He couldn’t really tell M’ta no to anything, after all.

[Requiem]

Are you saying you're not mine then? he questioned in an intimate brush of minds that was almost not an exchange of words at all. Unlike all the other males that made up the quartet, Behruth was simply enjoying the game...he had a Checkoth and that, alone, meant he'd won. Didn't keep him from playing the game, but it was easy to feel his amusement behind his actions and words. The smaller male squirmed, sending up a spray in the shallows as his tail came down hard on the river surface. Checkbrother is salivating me, he stated in a near whine, huffing softly and churning his legs in the water. Are you suuuuure? I think I'm going squish. Maybe the wing was an accident. You did surprise me, you know. Despite the string of complaints, his tail twined around one of Checkoth's legs as he wriggled.

He blinked once, twice then just kind of glanced down at the pants pooling around R'wign's feet. Not sure whether he wanted to snicker or yank the pants back up - his parts thank you much - M'ta settled for staring at his weyrmate incredulously with just the barest hinting of a smile twitching at one corner of his lips. "Is that what that was supposed to be? Rhyming? Hm, yes, surprising I'm sucking at a game I didn't know we were playing." Plucking pants and knife out of the hands of his weyrmate, he tossed the pants toward one of the young drudges blushing and giggling behind her hand, winking at her and nodding toward the exit. Twirling the blade through his fingers, he pointed the hilt at R'wign's nose. "You and your word games. I didn't forget anything. They all went right where I wanted them to go."

Chopping vegetables wasn't much like throwing knives - or the stars his weyrmate had gotten for him - or blade fighting, but it was about all they'd let him do for the 3-4 turns as a candidate and a weyrling, so it shouldn't have been too surprising that the celery was getting chopped at an almost alarmingly fast rate. Chopping, dicing, peeling and other such prep work was about the limit of his culinary ability. He burned pretty much anything he touched, and baking - now that was a joke. "Medical, methodical." He arched a brow. "Or are the words we're working with hidden in some sort of verbal puzzle?" Catching up the bowl one-handed, he swept the celery in using the flat of the blade, setting it down and presenting the knife back to R'wign hilt first, a teasing smile on his lips.

[glamourie]

Of course I am yours, but you are mine first. That is the way that it must be, Checkoth said resolutely. And fibbing does not become you. You meant to whap me, and I mean to use you for my pillow now. So final, those words. Splashing and squirming or not, Checkoth meant to use Behruth as his pillow and the smaller brown was simply not getting away from him. That was that. Checkoth nuzzled Behruth’s neck lightly, eyes whirling as two layers of his eyelids fell closed – enough for him to look sleepy, but not actually be asleep. His tails snaked around to brush over Behruth’s legs, neatly teasing his clutchbrother, and he made no effort not to sprawl on the smaller brown. He did keep his weight off of him though, conscious of the fact that he was bigger. He didn’t really see why it mattered since His was much bigger than Ruth’s and he laid on him all the time, but it did matter. It mattered to Ruth and that was enough to Checkoth. He’d be careful, he would. You make a very good one, my Ruthbrother. You should try fluffing up a little though and holding more still. Lick lick lick. You make it hard to sleep on you.

M’ta was apparently a pants-thief. R’wign quirked an eyebrow, amused. He didn’t comment on whether or not his weyrmate knew they were playing. Excuses. He’d been eavesdropping on the dragon conversation so he knew full well that they were not only playing, but what the premise of the game was. Since his pants were being handed off, he reached down and tugged his shirt off at the same time, then tossed it off to a different drudge. He’d intended fully to put them back on, but hey, if M’ta wanted him to be completely naked, he was more than happy to oblige. R’wign was comfortable enough in his own skin that he really didn’t need layers upon layers of clothes to feel secure. Most of the time he wore clothes because it was the socially acceptable way to behave, not because he felt he needed them in any way. R’wign was fine without them. M’ta always seemed to get twitchy at him for wanting to walk around naked at Selenitas though. And yet he was encouraging it? Hypocrite.

“Inimical, hysterical,” he continued before pointing at M’ta. “Now I’m naked save for shoes. That’s an attractive look. I hope you know I intend to make you do something about that later. Honestly, whine about me wearing leather pants in public and then hand my pants off to drudges. I was going to put them back on. Tactical. Chop the cauliflower and make yourself useful, slaveman.” R’wign took the bowl and ignored the offered knife to get back to work (whoever said R’wign couldn’t multitask was wrong), mixing the vegetables with the cream cheese carefully; he then moved on to quickly work on the crust, humming to himself. “Well, at least I know you’re enjoying the view~”

[Requiem]

I merely said that it might have been an accident, not that it actually was. So little faith in my innocence, Checkbrother. Behruth let loose a piteous whine, his eyes betraying how content he actually was to be pinned beneath his clutchbrother. The brown still made a show of it, scrabbling at the dirt intermittently as if testing to see if Checkoth's position had any weaknesses. Never said you could sleep on me. Wriggle. Wriggle. Dragons are not meant to be fluffly, CheckbrotherMine, or to not move. You should ask Yours to get you a dragon-sized pillow if you want something comfortable. His head coiled partially up around Checkoth's neck, the male struggling less and less.

Nope, he wasn't surprised that the shirt soon followed suit, leaving his weyrmate unclothed apart from the collar and the shoes. M'ta's eyes narrowed slightly on R'wign, but he didn't spend too much time allowing himself to be distracted. The making of food was a necessary precursor, after all. Wouldn't do to delay that. Well then. The blade dropped a hair, M'ta catching it by the hilt. "Slave man, is it?" R'wign should know better. Ducking under the man's arm, he planted his feet firmly on both of R'wign's, leaning forward enough to push his hips back into him while he moved the cauliflower directly in front of where R'wign was playing with the dough. "I've use for your shoes." A flick of a glance over his shoulder. "And the collar, too, if you keep it up."

Slicing quickly into the cauliflower, he settled his weight back against R'wign shamelessly. "Rhetorical. Debatable." A soft snort. "I'd say everyone's enjoying the view. Your bony ass looks better in leather, though, I think." It wasn't actually bony, at least by M'ta's standards, but anything that would irritate R'wign in return was clearly open season. The cauliflower chopped, his free hand snaked up, fingers sliding between collar and skin to fist around it, and he pulled down just enough to sink his teeth into his neck and leave a mark. "Palatable," he commented teasingly.

[glamourie]

Checkoth wriggled above his clutchbrother, effectively pinning him down. A low croon sounded in his throat, soft and sweet. He knew that he wasn’t hurting Behruth. He knew his clutchbrother pretty well, even if he pretended to be oblivious. Checkoth was good at faking not knowing things, actually. He didn’t outright, he just rarely revealed his full hand. It made people – and other dragons – underestimate him. He leaned down to lick Behruth’s head, eyes whirling pleasantly as he relaxed his weight, careful not to put it on his clutchbrother beyond pinning him down. He had the advantage of being larger and yes, he intended to use it as much as possible. Maybe that was unfair but life... life was unfair. And he liked winning almost as much as R’wign did. The difference, of course, being that he could handle losing as well. And R’wign couldn’t. You did not have to say. I don’t recall asking for permission, clutchbrothermine, and he says I have a dragonsized pillow. It just protests like his humanpillow and its mindmate, Checkoth happily explained. Behruth was his pillow. And his best friend, after R’wign. But mostly his pillow right about then. I’m glad I’m not small, I don’t think I could handle being pinned like this.

“Is that a promise?” R’wign baitingly replied, unbothered by M’ta standing on his feet. Maybe he should’ve been, but eh. His response was more to press himself completely against M’ta’s back, taking advantage of being taller to lean over his shoulder and press his cheek against his weyrmate’s all-too-gently. His hands never stopped working, though. He was actually pretty good at multitasking, no doubt as a result of having spent way too much time doing so in the past. And teasing while working was rapidly becoming one of his specialties. He did it when he was in the infirmary with M’ta all the time (and frequently denied any knowledge of what he was doing – yes, R’wign’s middle name was definitely ‘Tease’). “I can think of some uses for the collar, too. And our pretty restraints back in our weyr. But it won’t be me wearing them, because I am being good. You’re the one who needs punished, my love.” The teasing edge to his voice dropped a note – to something a little more personal, a little more intimate; it promised what his words implied.

Despite the jab about his ass being bony (it so was not, thank you), R’wign’s playful tone never changed. “Containable. Sustainable.” He paused, then turned and ran his tongue over the shell of M’ta’s ear deliberately before whispering something against it that would no doubt have made the nearby drudges blush. He allowed himself to be pulled down and shivered before retaliating by pressing more firmly against M’ta – effectively holding his weyrmate against the counter whether he liked it or not. “Don’t start something you’re not willing to finish in a public place, lover; you know how much trouble you have telling me no when I’m being difficult.” It was the only warning he was going to give; M’ta knew he liked being bitten. And he wasn’t at all averse to an audience. It wasn’t him who was shy.