So Not Afraid of You! (F'lix)

[Requiem]

It...looked weird. Little hunched nomad man, leaning on his staff with a small purple/blue live feather perched along the slope of the peaked hat. Even the clothing had the look of poverty about it, but that had more to do with the fact that his knee liked to swell until fabric was tight and it was unbelievably hot as it was. So in a fit of pique...off went the pant legs in ragged tatters at about the level of mid-thigh. Then because the southern summer was clearly attempting to kill him, off went the sleeves of the tunic, too. The corded muscles of the arms were strong enough. (Well they should be; he got bored and the things he tended to do with a bum knee employed them more often than not.) The knee itself had been wrapped. Then bound with belts. It actually was doing okay, but the heat didn't like it much, oh no. He was being good for once and keeping his activity on it normalish. But only because another month immobile would likely kill him with cabin fever.

If it hadn't already. Between the knee, his other injuries, and another sevenday's worth of illness as he went through withdrawals once he'd gotten away from the healers and their constant fellis administration - after which he'd been so weak and shaky that he'd spent still more time in bed - the bluerider needed out. And he'd gotten out, quite a few times. Now, though, he had a new concern. His life was changing. The knee he wasn't sure about...it still hadn't fully healed. But the pull on his chest, that he could already tell was different. Even with his ribs better, even simply doing something like pull-ups that didn't involve his legs, fatigue settled in quicker. Nor was it his muscles that gave first. Initially he figured that was just lack of conditioning. It had improved gradually just as his strength did. But the plateau had been found a couple sevendays ago. That...was that. He knew it would effect his running, his movement, his endurance. Which rankled. But what could he do? What he'd always done. Adapt.

And...yes, he was feeling just a little giddy. It almost felt like a great accomplishment, trekking out here to the stables (nevermind how sad that was when you thought about it). Coming upon the building, he'd initially meant to go past it, but he could hear the evil beasts stirring and knickering to each other, planning evil things. "I'm not afraid of you," he muttered, leaning on his staff. "You're stuck in there, and you can't do anything to me out here, devil beasts. But even if you did get out..." Here he kicked the staff, twirling it forward. "I would fight you to the death! Ha!" Terror crouched lower, sending little worried thoughts in the direction of His. Careful careful, that rock looked like it would turn underfoot, and did he see the eyes looking out at them? So scary. F'ur faltered but then tightened his jaw, the staff spinning easily in a defensive pattern before he settled it behind his shoulders.

A runner whinnied. "Yeah, that's right. Hide."

[rii]

"Who are you trying to scare?"

F'lix's light tone teased, having only caught the last few words as he neared the curiously garbed individual. Golden eyes swept over his weyrmate, not complaining in the slightest. It was actually.. very nice to see F'ur out and about. Being stuck indoors did not suit the man. It had taken a good while to find the older rider – and only by chance that he caught a glimpse of the staff and peaked hat by the stables.

Thumbs hooked into the sides of his criss-crossing belts, F'lix came up alongside the other man and casually looked over the terrain. Dark hair pulled back in a high runnertail, the trailing end nearly brushed the base of his neck with how much it had grown. The shorter, more jagged pieces falling in small groups around the sides of his face. The younger rider didn't seem to be as bothered by the heat; pants, boots, and a pale colored shirt with sleeves only rolled back to the middle of his forearm (and a good guess it was actually F'ur's as F'lix's clothing ran in the darker shades).

Another whinny from within the stables drew F'lix's attention, and he turned his head to give F'ur a curious glance. Was there actually someone hiding in there? Because why would F'ur have been talking to himself? The curiosity turned to suspicion, almost accusation as F'lix set back into motion – this time heading for the entrance of the stable.

[Requiem]

It was a testament to just how nervous F'ur was, the man actually startling slightly at the sound of F'lix's voice. He was already spinning, instinctively pivoting on the uninjured leg, the staff rounding for the man's head and adjusted at the last moment to speed just above it with a sharp whipping sound. It switched hands and twirled at his side to stop the momentum, before he flipped it back behind his shoulder. "I know I've told you before not to sneak up on me," he murmured, just enough annoyance mixed in with the light, teasing tone to make it apparent he was serious. "Unless you want me using your head for batting practice?"

He wasn't really upset enough to keep on that topic, however; like as not F'lix was safe with him. His reflexes were still fast enough, for the most part, to prevent him from doing anything too damaging before he noticed who it was. And he'd never hurt his weyrmate intentionally. Obviously. "I've got a stalker," he added, amused, and he reached over to flick F'lix's topknot. "A stalker with a tail, despite whining at me about needing to cut my hair." He actually liked F'lix's hair long, though. Made it easier to play with, especially when it was up as it was now. Yes, he could grab F'lix at any time, just by catching ahold of that topknot.

His eyes slitted as one of the evil beasts made a noise, and then F'lix was heading that way. Wait. No! What were they, devilish land syrens? He was not letting the evil ones trample his weyrmate. Bounding forward with aid of the staff, he caught hold of F'lix's sleeve. "What are you doing?" the older bluerider questioned anxiously. No, he wasn't allowed. Bad, bad kitten.

[rii]

The only outwardly reaction from the younger had been to tilt his head away from the incoming blow. F'lix knew well enough the potential risks of catching F'ur flatfooted. That didn't stop the smile from springing to his lips because of how rare it was to come up undetected by the ever watchful Terror. As the air rushed by F'lix couldn't help but be reminded of spar – it had been a good while since they had last played around in a dance. F'lix missed it.

"The hat was gone." He explained simply as he moved forward, tossing a narrowed look over her shoulder as he did. "It means you're up to no good – and without me. I should be upset." Facing forward, F'lix could feel the hanging tail of hair touch against the skin of his neck. He couldn't really rationalize a reason to why he had not cut his own hair. It was a mixture of enjoying the feeling of having it tied back (and he rarely let it down other than to wash it), the feeling of it brushing the back of his neck, and some odd attachment about having worn it that way turns upon turns ago and only now was free to do it again.

"Your hair gets too curly and shorter is—" F'lix had been half way through teasing his weyrmate, hand even raised to waggle his fingers back at the man when he found the binding sleeve of that arm snagged, and a very earnest F'ur upon him. F'lix faltered on the spot, words clashing on his lips to make him studder into a awkward silence. W-what was he doing? What did that even mean? The confusion was written clear as day across F'lix's features. What was he doing here? Oh sure it had crossed F'lix's mind that maybe F'ur didn't want company. That sort of thinking fed the gnawing rat of a troubling thought that had been on his mind for the past month – that F'ur was keeping something from him..

Another knicker, and F'lix's head swung back toward the barn. Something was in there. Or perhaps, someone – someone told to hide while F'ur feigned being surprised at having company (because, as mentioned, F'ur was near impossible to sneak up on with Terror around). A touch of hurt wormed it's way into F'lix's eyes as the unbidden thoughts came in a rapid succession. What was he doing – going toward the stable with an anxious F'ur trying to stop him.

"Going to see who is in the stable," the words growled in a low tone. F'lix slipped away, not wanting to be stalled into allowing time for anyone to escape. A few steps more, the rising anger expressing itself in the sharp movements.

[Requiem]

He'd flashed a devilish grin at F'lix a moment ago, at the comment of his being up to no good, but that grin was far from in evidence now. He was frowning at F'lix, eyes darting toward the stalls briefly. His pupils dilated, gaze returning to the younger man, whose confusion seemed to be shifting to something else.

Used to F'lix's growls as he was, this particular growl was different. Nothing playful about it. F'ur took a step back, blinking rapidly. What, because he'd touched him the kitten was getting pissy? Why? Seeing who was there...? "F'lix! There's no one there." He didn't think. It didn't sound like the evil beasts were in the process of ripping human flesh off the bones of live victims, anyway. Of course there was always the possibility that they were devouring the remains of a corpse, or even that one of the evil runner whisperers who'd sold their souls to Between was in there, directing the runners in their evil deeds...

The moment's hesitation gave way to a few more vaulting steps, using the staff to propel him forward at a much quicker pace than he could have managed without it. Quicker even than F'lix's brisk stride. (Which was rather the point, wasn't it?) Then, without so much as a warning - or an extra second of thought - he cast the staff aside and dove, catching F'lix around the waist and planting his good shoulder into the man's lower back in a full tackle. He hoped it didn't hurt the kitten, but he was much, much more worried about the runners. His hat slid back in the motion, causing Terror to cheep and leap off into his hair.

"Don't go in there," he hissed softly. Wincing at the pain in his knee, he managed to awkwardly sit on the back of his weyrmate's thighs. It was for his own good, really. F'lix just didn't know it. "They'll kill you. I don't know why you want to go in, but..." Here he swallowed, gathering his resolve. "If you have to know if there's anyone in there I guess...I can...look." A slight shudder. Runners. Shards, how they terrified him. (Never so much as they seemed to now, but he wasn't really registering that.)

He settled more firmly on F'lix. "But you're not going in. No, no, no. Not now, not ever, don't you think it, don't you do it." A note of hysteria entered his voice. "They'll get you and how will I find another F'lix? I won't, I wont." His voice faded into mutterings - to himself?

[rii]

Of course there was no one inside the stable. F'ur just really didn't want him looking because there was nothing at all to see. That made perfect sense. F'lix resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It became more of a matter of curiosity, really, than any desire to uncover any imaginary tryst hiding in the hay loft. He trusted F'ur, explicitly, but that didn't detour the fact that something or someone was in the stable and causing the runners to react.

F'lix heard F'ur's approach (hard not to), but he didn't anticipate the arms that encircled his waist; nor the force that pulled him toward the ground. A hand shot out in attempt to catch himself – palm tearing as it slipped along the loose rocks. It didn't register as the side of his chin scraped against the ground because he was too busy growling (a sign he had caught himself enough with the other hand to keep from being winded) as a flare of white-hot temper had him nearly striking out at his weyrmate. That had been uncalled for, and cheap tackling from behind..

It wasn't a full pin though, and F'lix eased up on an elbow, twisting his torso around to give a look at F'ur that made very clear he was not happy. "What the shards are — they'll kill me?" He ended his snarl with an incredulous question. It only took a few seconds for F'lix to process the strange gleam to F'ur's eyes and the tone of the senseless rambling. Stark. Raving. Mad. F'lix's lightly bleeding hand shot up, fisting the loose collar of F'ur's tunic to suddenly yank the older rider further down to almost achieve a face-to-face quality.

"I swear to Faranath if the healers have been trying to slip you more fellis or something new I am going to skin someone alive. And just how long have you been out here in the sun?" Flitters and mandyrs had been dropping left and right from heatstroke. It might take a little more, but the shard-blasted heat wave could be just as dangerous to a person. At least for the moment F'lix had forgotten about the ghost in the stable.

[Requiem]

Oops, bloody hand. Bloody. Hand. Nausea briefly swept through him, the familiar sensation of everything spinning and shutting down abruptly, and suddenly there was a quietness in his mind. Terror had fainted once again. F'ur blinked, not processing as quickly as normal for the sole reason that half - if not more than that - of the impetus behind his near hysteria had suddenly just...vanished. He glanced down at F'lix.

With a startled snarl, he found himself violently yanked down, his palms finding the ground and sending a twinge through his chest. F'lix's snarl had him blinking dumbly, though, the lip lowering to cover his teeth again. "The healers aren't getting anywhere near me," he stated, partly irritated and partly earnest. He didn't doubt that the kitten meant exactly as he said, and the last thing they needed were screaming, skinned healers. "And not that long. What, am I an infant now?" Then, just to illustrate how vastly mature he was, the bluerider licked F'lix's nose. "Now stop trying to strangle me." He didn't wait, though, instead loosening the man's grip by taking his hand and pressing his thumb into the meaty intersection between thumb and forefinger to loosen the grip through the pressure point.

Sitting up, he eased off F'lix's legs, glancing at the stables again as his eyes narrowed. "Stupid beasts. Shifting about just to put me on edge," he grumbled beneath his breath. "Hate runners." His eyes slid toward his weyrmate, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Let me help with your diagnosis. Don't fear anything when bonded to Terror...he gets a foothold and you start going crazy." Running a hand through his hair, he caught the limp creature, depositing him in the pouch at his side. The older man nodded briskly to F'lix's hand, freezing for a moment and shooting a glare as another one of the quadripeds whinnied from inside the stables. He returned his attention to the kitten. "Should wash that."

He folded his legs neatly beneath him and pulled his hat back up onto his head, balancing the staff across his knees. "If you ever wondered what I'd be like once I start losing my marbles..." he quipped dryly, shooting the man a small smile. "Seriously, though, do you have to go in there? Sharding beasts are dangerous. Like to kick and trample, skittish, tempramental creatures." He knew how odd it was for him to have this fear of runners, but F'ur couldn't really help it. Touching one in the presence of the Weyrwoman hadn't cured it either. Not in the slightest.

[rii]

Sane. Crazy. Sane. If F'ur had been intending to thoroughly confuse F'lix so he could make neither heads nor tails out of the situation, then he had succeeded beautifully. It would have been more understandable if fellis or the heat were to blame – but they were not at fault. All of it was F'ur – doing what? Playing at some sort of game? See how much F'lix could take before snapping? See how much of it he'd believe? Decide how easy or difficult it was to delude him? With anger still freshly present, and every bit of playfulness long gone, F'lix sneered as he jerked his head aside to avoid being licked; at the same time shoving at F'ur's chest. The spoken words, laced with irritation, only had F'lix bristling further. Lowly his own voice spoke in slow, steady pattern that didn't match the brimming anger in his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder.

The implied get off was clear enough without F'lix spitting out the words. His fingers released the shirt, snapping away before enough pressure could be applied to remove the limb. As soon as room allowed, F'lix swiftly moved off to the side, putting a good distance between them in that short moment before halting in half crouch – his back facing F'ur. Whatever quiet phrases or looks that were cast his way, F'lix was having none of it. Deaf to the words, F'lix attention instead turned to the stinging in his palm. Gently a few small rocks were eased out of the shallow wounds.

Only after the wave of temper receded did F'lix tune into F'ur's voice – and just as soon he felt the anger beginning to crest for a second crashing. "No. That would be pointless to do now, wouldn't it." If someone had been in the stable, F'lix had been stalled long enough to give the person ample time to slip away. It was just strangely ironic that F'ur was, again, perfectly sane. And the best excuse he could come up with was a supposed fear of runners!? F'lix wanted to believe his weyrmate, really did, but it was so... so.. ridiculous. F'ur. Afraid of runners. (Blaming the matter on Terror was just as silly, F'ur had long ago conditioned himself to deal with the blue salamandyr's constant stream of fears.) The younger rider felt mildly insulted his weyrmate thought him gullible enough to believe anything. And worse yet, F'lix wanted to blindly believe everything..

Part of F'lix knew that the whole present matter was not why he was upset, but he certainly was using it as a means to vent a displaced irritation. Smoothly he rose to his feet, curling fingers into his torn palm to keep the blood from marking the white shirt. For a long moment he eyed his weyrmate – or at least what he could see of the man's face from around the brim of the peaked hat.

"I don't know what you are playing at.. " His weight swayed over one foot, more than a little tempted to turn and leave without another word. Golden eyes slitted and ventured back toward the stable, a finger touching the scrap on his chin as he looked. "Did you really feel it was necessary to over-play some – No. Just.. just forget it. I'll go, and you can go back to.. whatever." His fingers flicked at the air to emphasis the vagueness of the last word.

[Requiem]

F'ur frowned at F'lix openly. "Since when did you get so pissy over a couple scratches? I'm sorry, okay?" Sounded more irritable than sorry, probably, but what more was he supposed to say? It's not like he could help it. Though now he knew that bringing Terror with him near the stables probably headed the list of 'bad ideas'. That and expecting F'lix to understand. Lilli and Simper didn't really effect the bluerider, maybe, but you'd think he'd be a little more sympathetic. It wasn't as if he wasn't trying to fix it, after all. (Nor was he playing it up or whatever the kitten was claiming in an increasingly irritating stream of veiled and not-so-veiled accusations. Yeah, like he deliberately got distracted by Terror when Fort attacked, cause it just seemed like an awesome idea, getting half-eaten by a dragon.)

F'ur advanced on F'lix, in his awkward hobble, a cold anger behind his dark eyes. "Yeah, that's right. I'm playing with you. I thought to myself, ah, my weyrmate should be showing up any time now, let's put on a show, see how gullible he is. Wonder if he'll believe that I'm afraid of runners. But wait! Can't make it too obvious. I should act like a fool instead, try to keep him out of the stables without mentioning the sharding beasts. He'd go for that, right? Or did you think someone's in there? Because this would definitely be the best time for me to start up getting a little tail on the side, when I have enough trouble getting around I have to use...this." He shook it at F'lix. "When you have to treat me like a sharding invalid as it is. I'm just anxious to show everyone else how far I've fallen, too."

He dipped his head, forcing the gradual rising of his voice back to a normal decibel. Lower, even, the tones so soft they would be easy to ignore if F'lix chose. "Is it so hard to believe that something might make me nervous? I was born at a weyr, F'lix, fostered out to a hold having never seen the creatures before, okay. I can't explain it. Just always been afraid of them. There are other things that scare me, too." His eyes flicked toward his weyrmate's. "Can't imagine why I wouldn't be anxious to list them all off so people know I'm not faking."

Dark eyes sought out the younger man's. "Or is it you playing the game here? Gotten tired of me, tired of dealing with an injured has-been with the maturity level of a teenager, looking for an excuse? A way out? At least do me the courtesy of just fucking coming out and saying it, okay? I'm not going to stop you. You want to go, be with someone younger or just get out of my shadow, do it. No one is stopping you. Tell all your friends I was cheating on you if it makes it easier...shards, tell yourself that. You're obviously good at convincing yourself of ludicrous things. Don't I have enough faults without you concocting more for me? And don't you dare stay with me out of guilt just to put us right back here a few months from now. I can't play this damn game with you."

He turned, cursing colorfully when it nearly resulted in his toppling flat on his face. A whinny from the stables caused him to jump, to hiss back at them. His eyes stung, but shards if anyone but him was going to know. He couldn't deal with this right now. Not on top of everything else.

[rii]

Why did he have to go an open his mouth like that? F'lix mentally chided himself. One arm remained crossed while the other raised to press fingers into his temple. F'lix had closed his eyes, unable to meet the anger painted all over his weyrmate's face. Not that he could escape it, the words alone carried well the irritation. Why couldn't he just come up to F'ur and say 'hey, something's been bothering me lately'. So stupid. Instead he let it fester and found himself make small snips at the older man until it became too much.

It stung, a lot, not the scratches, but each rhetorical question and scenario. F'ur always had a knack for turning things around and making a person feel like an utter moron without breaking a sweat. The young rider almost shrank away as F'ur approached, instead his jaw firmed and brow furrowed as he continued to keep his eyes closed – his hand and fingers spanning over the top portion of his face to keep it that way. Hearing, and partially feeling, the movement of the staff did earn a reaction. A mild one, of F'lix raising one shoulder as a brace to take a blow (certainly wasn't about to dodge it). Flinching out of reflex, despite knowing F'ur wouldn't hit him. Probably anyway. Anger tended to make people do strange things that were later regretted. F'lix had his fair share of those moments.

"Leave you," F'lix let out a humorless chuckle as the arm finally came down to join the other in a tight embrace of his ribcage. Injured, has-been, immature, find someone younger, how far he's fallen – the little toss outs were not lost on F'lix. It was hard to think of F'ur having any form of self-doubt. "There's a thought. Why didn't I think about leaving when you were dancing with death and I was practically living at your bedside. Nearly broke the arm of the apprentice girl that said I should leave." There was no longer a question if the two blueriders were together. The single weyr they were recently assigned was enough proof of the detail. At least Saboth didn't seem to mind – as much – about sharing a ledge with Inocenth. "But sure, it makes sense. My feelings for you are so shallow that I can't stand to be beside you any longer. I've clearly stuck around this long out of some form of pity, or a game. I love making myself an emotional wreck over a game."

His hand made an angry flick through the air for emphasis. Albeit a useless one, but he could no better stop his hands from moving than he could hide his moods from F'ur. "Yes. It is hard to believe you are afraid of runners. It's been nearly a turn since I last saw you jumping at shadows because of bonding with Terror. Here and now you were fine one moment, a rambling lunatic the next with no fever, fellis, or heatstroke to explain the change. Only you, F'ur, who goes back to perfectly normal like nothing happened. It confuses me. Nervous is one thing, tackling me in some full-on panic is entirely different. I'm sorry. It's been a long time since Terror's gripped you that badly."

But what did it all matter. F'ur had already turned his back in a sign of finality on the matter. F'lix could feel his fingers twitching where they laid against his ribs. He was thoroughly rattled with the thought of having lost the older rider. "You've been lying to me." In the worst kind of way; one he loathed above all others. The words were quiet, eyes still narrowed but empty of the former anger and directed at the bottom of F'ur's staff. "Putting on that act, that smile. ~Nothings wrong, nothing here~ Like you think I can't tell the difference between when you are genuinely happy, playing.. and when you are putting on a show like you want to dissuade me from asking questions. I hate the masks people wear for others, and hate it even more that you've put up one for me. That you feel it's necessary to lie to me like that."

Much like a curiosity that went un-indulged. It made him restless, crazy even, until he figured it out. "I find myself trying to find a reason–" He spoke the last word angrily at himself through gritted teeth. Golden eyes shot over to the stable as if to make a point. "–for what, because why. And the worst part about it is not even about what I don't know. It's simply not knowing.. and you not telling me." Pushed aside. Humored even, while being kept in the dark. He couldn't help but form a few doubts that wouldn't be pushed down like all the others. Yet, again, not that it mattered any more. F'lix expected to have his worry torn apart and feel even further like a fool. It made him wonder if he should ever bring up his concerns with F'ur if this was how..

.. well, it didn't matter if this was indeed the end.

Shifting his weight, F'lix partially turned – unsure if he was suppose to leave and pack his things or. Hn, was there really an or to the situation? He didn't want to leave.

[Requiem]

F'lix didn't want him to answer the line of questioning. His jaw clenched, hands tightening around the staff. When had he lost his ability to simply...show nothing where F'lix was concerned? He'd never had trouble like that with anyone else. Not once. Here he was blowing up at someone. Imagine, losing control like that? What sort of person left someone while they were dying? Not anyone who expected to have a free conscience when they went to bed at night. Not anyone who expected to sleep well...unless they had no humanity at all. Nor was it really fair to point out that it probably was pity, or at least so he could look at himself in the morning, instead of skipping out the moment F'ur wasn't...himself anymore. Downright cruel to comment that F'lix had always been an emotional wreck. Shouldn't ask questions you didn't want the answer to. Because all F'ur kept coming back to was the reality that F'lix would rather fixate on what he was trying to hide than find another explanation. When had he ever given the other man reason not to trust him? F'lix was...they'd practically been attached at the hip since getting together nearly a turn ago now. It hurt. And all he could think was the kitten was looking for a viable reason to leave that wasn't 'well, he's not the man he was, and I'm just not interested anymore.'

And now the excuses started up. Why? Why was he playing at this? F'ur...he wanted to get out before it cut deeper than it already did. Shards if he was going to tell F'lix that in all likelihood he'd panicked because it was F'lix going in there. Because yes, more than runners, the fear of losing F'lix was potent. Losing him. Silly, wasn't it? He already had. Didn't matter that losing him to runners didn't make sense. F'ur would like to see anyone else deal with Terror and two fears at once. He most definitely would. Tell F'lix that, though? Maybe before, but not now. The kitten...shards, even upset he still couldn't rid himself of the pet name. His shoulders hunched and he began to walk away while F'lix was still speaking. Not sure if it was anger or pain clogging his throat, but knowing that staying any longer wasn't an option.

And then he faltered, head turning just enough to eye F'lix out of the corner of his eye. A good thing the shadow of the hat and the angle concealed his expression, because if it had been angry before, now it was murderous. Was F'lix really going to pull that one out, that he'd lied to him? If anything he'd been too fucking honest with the kid, let him in and this was what he got for it. Maybe it was better, having lovers in the north, where most of them died before they could betray you - before they could stamp themselves on you deeply enough to make you nauseous as you watched it falling apart. Disgust welled up. Done. The kid's stuff was going over the weyrledge if he didn't get back first. (Strangely enough that decision did nothing to stop the roiling in his gut.)

How he managed to continue listening at all was a wonder, but he did. F'ur half-turned, staring at F'lix. What? He slipped the hat back, tilting his head to one side and outright studying the younger man. "Most people would assume I was just hurting or frustrated about being cooped up so long," he commented quietly, with just a touch of questioning behind the words. The anger had vanished almost as if it had never been. Can't blame someone for being suspicious when they knew you were holding out on them, right? Just...he'd never imagined F'lix would be able to tell. "I'm not unhappy all the time, F'lix." He moved toward the kitten, wincing at his knee, but drew up short of touching him.

"What was I supposed to tell you? I hate being injured. It drives me crazy. I hate that you have to do things for me, that I can't walk like a normal human being, much less do anything I used to. But what good does it do to complain about any of that? It can't be helped." He ran a hand through his hair. "And I don't see how it would do either of us any good for me to tell you about how I think I'll probably never be able to do the things we used to do together. Healers say my knee might support a sustained run eventually if I'm lucky. My endurance is shot. That I know already. And I'll never get it back. One of us worrying about that is enough, and...I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to stay. I saw how you watched me, F'lix. I'm not...I'm not stupid. This wreck isn't what attracted you."

He reached for the man's cheek, fingers curling just before he touched him. "That's what I'm afraid of. Enough to make me panic inside. That's why...I've gotten better with Terror, you're right, but I can't handle two fears at once with him. I'm sorry. That I made you bleed." A brow raised. "Why didn't you just ask me, kitten? I would have told you. No one notices, though - no one did - and I thought it would be better...not to worry you."

[rii]

The tone had changed, but F'lix couldn't bring himself to lift his gaze any higher than where F'ur's fingers curled mid-staff. Unable to meet his weyrmate's gaze in apprehension of the cold anger still being sharp in those dark eyes. "Most people," F'lix echoed softly – a vague hint of an explanation he couldn't summon up the words to speak. Convinced, really, that if he talked at length he'd end up shaking like a leaf from how rattled he felt on the inside. Obvious enough F'lix wasn't like most people, other than the fact of being quite close to F'ur. His version of connecting the dots may be askew – adding in a few points of his own before drawing lines at a seemingly random whim to create a picture, a conclusion, that often only made sense to him – he did see things differently, noted things that others would dismiss. And, quite frankly, being as close as he was to F'ur, suddenly being shut out of a part of the other man's life was hard not to notice.

F'lix shifted his weight as F'ur approached. His line of sight forced to move further up, focusing instead on the ragged edge of tunic where a sleeve once existed. Against his better will he felt his teeth clenching as the hand near his face. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to be touched right at that moment. The snuffed anger still left him somewhat bristling with unease. Part of him didn't want the comfort the touch would bring and to keep the intangible pain fresh in his mind. Remember it. As if he could forget. Recall, reflect, and try not make the same mistake.

It wasn't until the mention of blood that F'lix began to unweave himself from the tight, defensive posture. Blinking, he loosened his arms and pulled his hand away to mildly frown at the red spots staining the white shirt. The unimportant wounds had been completely forgotten. "After you showed up at the weyr, drugged with fellis, I spoke with the healers since you wouldn't be going back to the infirmary. They told me, in detail, the extent of your wounds. The risks of you not staying there, what to expect, what not to expect, all the good stuff." Golden eyes briefly flicked up to catch a glimpse of F'ur's face. "I know what it means, F'ur, and to tell you the truth... I'm not worried."

He stepped closer, not touching, but almost as if he wanted to share a hushed secret with the older rider. His arms remained folded low over his stomach as he spoke in a purposely low tone. Afraid, still, that for one reason or another that the things between them were coming to an end. "I didn't ask because.. I think it's your choice whether or not to tell me." Other people may not see it that way, but he did. "I don't need to know everything. And we don't have to talk about it. But masking it, hiding it completely.."

His head bowed slightly, knowing his mind only needed to grasp at a one suspicious thread to unravel an entire situation; make a outright mess of it all. "But like I said, I'm not worried." He braved a smile, a touch of playfulness making it back into his voice. "You would of gotten bored of those things anyway. You're always looking for a new things to do, or a new way to do something old."

His voice dipped to a low purr as his arms lightly brushed against the other rider. "You saw, F'ur, but don't see. Why do you think I came out here?" It was no secret that F'lix found it to be something of a turn-on to watch F'ur go through the forms and motions. "I don't get to see as much as you as I do when you are in motion." Sure, anyone could learn a move and practice it to perfection. But F'ur's way always held a personal touch that no one else could recreate. A passion behind the moves that everyone else seemed to overlook. The style had changed, but it was still the same artist putting a piece of his life into what he did. If F'ur thought the attraction purely physical, he was wrong. So very wrong. F'lix just didn't see things like other people did. "This may have slowed you down now, changed how you'll approach things, but I don't believe anything – short of death – can stop you from being.. you."

F'lix lightly clicked his tongue as if tsking the older man for being the ridiculous one. "I'm not in love with your fan dance, F'ur." Close enough. Sounds from the stable drew F'lix golden eyes aside, and he tilted his head as his gaze returned to his weyrmate – still weyrmate, right? "Want to get some shade? It's hot.."

[Requiem]

His brow knitted, a bitter laugh wanting to worm its way up, but he didn't let it. Of course. Why would he have thought any different? Of course F'lix had gone to talk to the healers...and whatever had happened during the month following the attack, apparently everyone now was clear as to their relationship. Being assigned the shared weyr was clue enough of that, and why wouldn't he ask? F'ur would have if the situation was reversed, after all. It simply hadn't occurred to him - stuck in his own world, maybe. Though, to be fair, most people didn't think well drugged, and he did worse with substances than 'most people.' If it had occurred to him, he may not have gone out of his way to mention it, no, but he wouldn't have skirted around it either. Feeling a little foolish now.

The frown faded slightly into an openly quizzical expression. Not worried about what? There was nothing really life-threatening or anything about his prognosis - that the healers had told him - nothing to worry about. His lung wasn't going to collapse again out of thin air, he was told he was a healthy man, healthy enough that his recovery would be quicker than someone his age had a right to. This pleased him, but didn't surprise him. It wasn't the first time he'd been hurt, after all.

F'ur shook his head, not sure whether to be amused or annoyed. "You get really odd ideas, F'lix. It's not your business to ask me about it, but it is your business to ask the healers about it? I know why you did, and I'm just silly for not realizing you had, but...odd. If this was supposed to be some sort of test, I suppose I failed it, hm?" He arched a brow questioningly at the younger man.

The next words made him blink and forget about that line of questioning, however. That's what he wasn't worried about. F'ur simply stared for a long time, weighing the words in silence. Or he would have, had F'lix not brushed up against him, F'ur hooking a leg around the staff to hold it in place as his hands found F'lix's biceps, resting there lightly. He didn't understand really. Oh, he understood some of what F'lix was saying (only some, because he really didn't see what was so very interesting about watching a man hobbling around and threatening runners, but to each his own) but the vast majority of it slipped by him. F'ur looked at him in open confusion. Stop him from being him...whatever that was supposed to mean. He was what he did, in F'ur's mind. His body, Inocenth...those were his strongest assets and what had always defined him. To the older bluerider, it wasn't just not being able to pivot as quickly or run as far...he was losing what defined him as a person. Yes, part of his mind was already exploring what needed to be done to help bridge the wide gap, the staff instead of the cane most people would have used indication of that. He could use it to propel himself, to keep a distance that would make his slower reaction time not as much of a problem. But it would be a lie to say that he'd seriously begun exploring any of it. Because a large part of him chafed at the necessity, and the moment he put all his efforts into it, that would be admitting...everything. Heh. Funny how people could knowingly delude themselves, hm?

The click of the tongue brought him back to the present, F'ur blinking F'lix's face back into focus. Wait...what had he just said? A small smile flickered over his lips. "A shame. That's something I should still be able to do once my knee stops thinking it prefers to be the size of my head," he commented lightly, sliding his arms around his weyrmate. Which probably made it far too easy to feel the stiffening at the sounds from the stables as F'ur turned his head just slightly and watched it through narrowed eyes. "Not in there," he responded. He smiled wryly at his weyrmate, flicking the hat back onto his head and pulling back to lean on the staff. "I'm going to need to ice this soon, before it really does get to be the size of my head."

[rii]

The question of a test only had F'lix mirroring the look of confusion. "Why would I need to ask you about something I already knew? I didn't know what you were trying to keep from me, but why would it be something I'm not worried about?" Nothing was going to change. Oh sure, it was painful to watch F'ur be cooped up – and irritating to be poke and prodded to do things for the lazy oaf (Or so F'lix played at. He didn't mind at all and tended to find it highly amusing on occasion). The wounds would heal. F'lix just didn't see what troubled F'ur. And.. judging by the puzzled expression on his weyrmate's face he had been unable to explain the fact that this change.. wasn't really changing anything. F'lix didn't view F'ur as being any different than before the attack. What, was the man worried about the hobble that everyone else focused on and couldn't look past? Hn, since when did he care about what other people thought – as far as F'lix knew F'ur spent a vast majority of the time deliberately detouring people from seeing beyond the presented guise.

"That's just a perk," F'lix mused, already feeling more at ease with F'ur's smile and the arms around him. F'lix leaned into the touch, keeping his weight over his own feet but drawing in close enough reflect that redwort was not longer one of the scents clinging to his weyrmate. "I know I'm ridiculous, but that would be pushing it just a little too far."

Swaying back over his heel, F'lix partially turned and waited for F'ur to lead. He preferred to match the man's pace rather than set one and end up having F'ur analyze it – too fast and it might be seen as pushing, over compensating for wanting to slow down. Too slow and F'ur might feel insulted. He wasn't that immobile. "Could sit on the river bank with your leg in the water." F'lix wasn't interested in returning the the weyr. Being stuck in a room was bad enough, add in F'ur's degree of restlessness and F'lix couldn't help but want to remain outdoors.

"But really F'ur.. " He turned a bit further, head bowing as he shot his werymate a teasing look. "You were telling the runners to hide.. ?"

[Requiem]

He could feel the tension ebbing, and he was very glad for it. Unlikely that he'd admit it - partly because he and F'lix didn't tend to talk about any of the more emotional parts of their relationship, and he was just fine about keeping it that way - but the idea that F'lix still didn't trust him after a turn had been very upsetting for the older man. Perhaps unfairly, too, considering how many games he did play with almost everyone else. But he kind of expected it to be acknowledged, when he chose someone to be open with, because that sort of choice wasn't an easy one. And F'lix didn't get his games. Most of the time. It seemed that white lies - omissions, really - to keep the kitten from worrying about things he couldn't change would also have to be banished, though. Because better to worry him a little and F'lix be confident he wasn't hiding anything than to spark all these odd paranoid wonderings. (Sometimes he forgot how convoluted the younger man's mind was, since they had almost no trouble with it these days. Almost hard to imagine how this F'lix could be the same as the one who doubted everything, skittish and twitchy throughout the first part of their associations. It was almost as if he'd believed that someone simply wanting him around with no ulterior motives beyond enjoying his company was impossible.)

The suggestion earned a smile from the older man, and he reached out to flick at F'lix's runner tail again. "As annoyed with being cooped up inside half the time as I am, hm? That should work just fine." They were close enough to the source of the water, and the river was shaded enough, that it wasn't warm even in the tropical heat. Nice and cool water flowing over his knee appealed. A good deal. And he had missed being outdoors, most definitely. He never spent that much time inside, either drilling or engaged in something in the jungles surrounding Selenitas. Or weyrledge hopping, though he'd stopped that after the first crazy thought he was trying to assassinate her. Which was...amusingly arrogant of her.

Stepping out, he used his staff to lengthen his stride and steady his step, though he didn't rely on it completely. Which was probably another reason his knee liked to swell up as often and large as it did. But F'ur was determined to use it, not let it go stiff and become even more of a problem. Healers be damned. He knew his own body better than them, anyway. Faltering slightly at F'lix's question, he glanced sideways at him. "They can smell your fear," he said, his tone sounding completely and utterly serious. The eyes gave him away, though, and then the small, wry twist of his lips. "So maybe I was playing around just a little, too. It really is a silly fear to have, but...eh, I can't get it to go away. Might as well mock it for my own amusement. And yours, as it turns out." He reached out and flicked the younger man's nose.