Love you to Death (Z'ves)

[Requiem]

Though he usually woke instantly - and did this time as well - he hadn't slept the night before and he felt the late hour in a certain sluggishness of thought. Or...early hour might be the more appropriate designation. Wrapped in his blanket, he glanced at the body close enough for him to feel the warmth off it. Slid the dirk from its sheath in silence and oiled it with a certain mindlessness as he thought. Considered. There was nothing to decide, though. The true question was only if he could. But there were many things he'd done lately that he'd once promised himself he'd never do again.

He didn't think he'd woken the teenager as he slipped out the door, though it didn't really matter. Padding barefoot down the hall, he even took the blanket with him, bed-tousled and dull-eyed enough to be merely a curious sight. For an intense person, it was lacking as he slipped into the room he'd left earlier that evening.

Should the expected snarl come, he was prepared to ignore it. Just as he ignored any unconcerned questioning from the man in the bed. And why should he be concerned, after all? A man could only be threatened so many times before it lost its power and he recognized it for what it was: bluster. Reasons might have shifted somewhat in the intervening months. The man swathed in his blanket who sunk down onto Z'ves' bed had a curious habit of loyalty, even to those who didn't deserve it. And, well, he couldn't ignore that the bluerider was perhaps the only reason he was still alive right now. A war of strange morals and emotions, none of them clearcut, twisted in his gut.

Fingers threaded through Z'ves' hair, lips pressing against the other man's. Not because they were intimate but because they weren't. And the shock of a first kiss when M'ta had drawn back in revulsion from any gentler touch from Z'ves served as adequate distraction. The blanket slipped from shoulders as the dirk struck. Only...no. M'ta had never been the sort to stab someone so unsportingly, not someone he knew, and instead the dirk hovered at the bluerider's neck. Not quite touching it. "Stay, Lucith. I will kill him for 'Ruth." Ironic. That comment had more than one meaning.

The scars on the shorter man's bare torso, far too many for a man so young, told the story of the unconventional relationship between the two. Part of it, anyway. The nipple ring told another part. Though that second part even M'ta didn't understand. He tried not to think about it. "Don't think I won't," he murmured to Z'ves, eyes narrowing slightly. But he already knew how unlikely it was that the bluerider would take him too seriously. The older man had already decided that M'ta couldn't bring himself to kill the man who used his body to satisfy his bloodier sadistic cravings.

And why should he? M'ta had come to Z'ves. Not once but every time. He'd tried to kill the bluerider before. Earlier that sevenday, in fact. For a fighter, his showing had been impressively poor. Z'ves was right. Didn't mean M'ta had to admit it.

[Rei]

He was in a pretty deep sleep by the time his visitor slipped into the weyr. Even so Z’ves certainly wasn’t that slow to wake. Mostly because the awareness that was Lucith flooded his brain immediately, goading him awake as always. Even without the blue’s help he would have awoken anyway. You learn to sleep with heightened awareness when you deal with the things the bluerider did on a regular basis. Besides M’ta had been making increasingly common visits for the last month or so. The man didn’t really move from his position much. Just enough to sit up and fix M’ta with an irritated look. One that was becoming increasingly commonly given. Except this time there was curiosity behind it as well. The man had ran off in a huff earlier. So it was a little strange, even for M’ta, that the brownrider had returned tonight.

The expected snarls were of course given. Lucith’s lips peeled back to reveal teeth in the same loud threat he pulled almost every time M’ta arrived unexpectedly. The threat was not completely idle either. Should he have the clearance the dragon would have absolutely no qualms with ripping into the man or his brown dragon. Sad that his would not let him. With the raising of one hand in a signal from his rider Lucith kept silent, although the soundless snarl still was on his face, tail lashing as he regarded M’ta from his spot in the dragon area of the weyr.

Head titling as he shifted to sit up more properly Z’ves regarded the approaching brownrider before he spoke, the tone just this side of weary. “And yet this time you surprise me. I didn’t expect you back? Can’t sleep?” For being slightly irritated the words didn’t really convey that. Instead they held weary curiosity as M’ta sank onto his bed. The young man had been spending a few nights there. Ever since their little spat a four days ago that and ended up in M’ta being forced to submit and Z’ves’ leg injured. The long and deep gash in his thigh was healing well, although the pain was still not very easy to ignore considering he kept aggravating the area. Pale blue eyes widened in surprise as his bedtime visitor suddenly leaned forward and threaded a hand into his hair before kissing him. Whatever Z’ves had expected it certainly wasn’t this.

The surprise faded though to be replaced with not fear but strong amusement as the blade was pressed to his throat at the same time. Clever. Automatically Z’ves’ eyes fixed not on M’ta’s face but his body, and the story they had written there together. One of pain and torture. The bluerider still considered it all his art. Beautiful. A story written in flesh. His story. The corners of his lips twitched upwards in a smile as M’ta threatened Lucith and then the smile became a chuckle.

M’ta was right. You could only threaten someone so long before the threats became little more than idle bluffing. It had become a game now to Z’ves. A very amusing one of denial. M’ta wouldn’t kill him because M’ta couldn’t kill him. Not many people had an easy time killing someone they loved after all. And M’ta surely loved him. But curiously, that didn’t seem to stop the brownrider from playing his games of delusion. Muscles subtly twitched as Z’ves shifted weight, but he didn’t act immediately.

Instead the bluerider regarded M’ta with an amused look and spoke. “Come now M’ta. This is pointless. You know it and I know it. Put down the blade and ask me what you want like a normal, sane person.” Oh Z’ves was pretty sure he knew what brought this on this time. Before it was Terilyn that had started the previous spat. This time it was someone else. “Maybe if you beg me and act like a good boy I’ll listen to you.” Or not but hey. M’ta wasn’t in any place to make demands. Not even with his knife pressed to the bluerider’s throat apparently.

Lucith obeyed M’ta and stilled, a low growl in his throat and tail tip twitching in the barely surprised desire to move. The slate blue was as sure as his rider that M’ta would do nothing. But only because Z’veshis said the man would not. Despite himself the blue had his small anxious doubts however. Hard not to with a knife being held to your rider’s neck.

[Requiem]

Z'ves really didn't give him enough credit. The brownrider may indeed make his threats as sort of a default setting, a throwback as many of his behaviors were throwbacks to a time before Selenitas and Behruth and...R'wign. Some days he believed he'd follow through on them more than others. What the bluerider didn't know was M'ta had only been fierce enough to lend credit to the threats so he wouldn't have to make good on them. How he was treating Z'ves was nothing new. It was Z'ves who was different than the others, Z'ves who was too arrogant to take M'ta at face value. But maybe that shouldn't have been surprising.

No, he knew the bluerider wouldn't believe him. M'ta won his occasional battles with Z'ves, not physically, but by being clever. He'd sold out some but kept most of what he found important. The brownrider expected the older man to dismiss him as much as a person could with a weapon to their throat. It was the rest of the gamble that was the game. It just...wasn't a game he really wanted to win. The conflict was making him faintly nauseous.

Expected the dismissal, the disdain, the patronization...how could he be thought of any differently? It was a pathetic person who needed pain, abuse and torture to bury the more visceral pain of what he'd lost. Because he and 'Ruth were spiraling and he couldn't afford to grieve if he wanted to keep 'Ruth. And he couldn't live without 'Ruth, couldn't be there for the daughter he loved more than anything. Trapped. Pathetic, a person who could stop all of it at any time but let Z'ves trample all over him anyway. More pathetic that of all the people here the one that wanted nothing from him but his pain, his pride and eventually his life...was the closest thing to a friend he had here in this hell.

So why shouldn't the man look at him like he was curious, unfathomable scum? It was true enough. That he expected, but the smile and the eyes that so casually traced his torso like there was no threat between them...revolting. M'ta suppressed a shudder enough to keep his arm steady, but he couldn't keep himself from groping for the fallen blanket with his other hand and awkwardly draping it back around his shoulders. Not covering everything, but some, at least.

"I'm not insane." Almost like a knee-jerk reaction, the response. Even if M'ta didn't sound terribly sure about that. He didn't bother disputing normal. Or the futility of what he was doing. Did Z'ves not understand that he already knew it was futile? No, no, because if he did, he'd have cause to be more nervous than he was currently, if he truly understood. The words had their own temptation, though. He could just lower the weapon now and put aside all this madness. Wanted to. 'Ruth's presence gave him some strength as well as angered him. Just another way out. But M'ta loved Behruth, and he could only hurt him so much.

"No." That word, at least, had some conviction. "You won't. You always want something in return, and I have nothing you want." Nothing that he'd give Z'ves. You'd think that begging was beneath the proud young brownrider, but he would have if he'd thought it would do any good. Z'ves would just find it amusing. "I can't just let you destroy her. Even if I wanted to, Behruth won't let me." Truth. Though without 'Ruth's influence...he was more likely to sell another part of his soul to help her rather than this. "I know she tried to kill you. But so have I. She's more harmless than I am. You saw how sloppy it was. Her heart wasn't in it and never will be. What makes us any different?"

It was stupid, really. M'ta still hoped he could talk Z'ves out of it, that the bluerider wouldn't force him... Yet he knew already what sort of response he would receive. It was not his business. She'd tried to interfere in what wasn't hers. Only it was hers because M'ta knew - had always known - that she did it for herself and not for him. It was just easier for her to say otherwise. For her own conscience. People did what they had to to live with themselves. She wanted out, and M'ta gave her the permission that left her conscience clear because he understood...and because he felt responsible for everything.

And maybe he wanted out, too.

The items on the dresser behind him. That was why his argument carried so little value. If this continued, one day the ring Z'ves had forced back on him would join that collection, or most likely end up at the bottom of the pile of all the others kept away somewhere...the ones that meant less. M'ta had to fight. It was who he was. Didn't mean part of him didn't wish for it. Better than waiting for his brown to finally leave and suffer that horror...that terrified him far more than anything Z'ves might do to him ever could.

The point, of course, was invalid because if they were the same then Z'ves would only be doing what he was already doing to M'ta. Yet the bluerider didn't always see things as clearly as M'ta did, and sometimes these arguments that didn't hold weight did on the surface to the bluerider. M'ta got away with things occasionally. He was, unfortunately, too intriguing and too stubborn to be broken and killed quickly.

[Rei]

Z’ves regarded M’ta with an almost unreadable expression. Here in the dark it was hard to see anyway. But the fact that the brownrider felt the need to cover himself and his scars was distinctly amusing to the older rider. Amusing and perhaps just a little pleasing. He couldn’t help the comment that came to mind. “Come now M’ta. You hurt an artist when you treat his work like that. Cover it up as if it’s terrible. I like to see it. You should show it off more.” The slight caressing quality to his tone was intentionally. Z’ves loved the reactions M’ta gave him. It was the only reason he had kept the younger male for so long. His reactions and return actions to things were not ones most normal people would give. Despite the torture both, mental and physical, that he had put the brownrider though in these past month’s since R’wign had died, M’ta continued to come back. Sometimes simply to talk to him and even to sleep in his bed.

Now if that wasn’t a queer reaction Z’ves didn’t know what was. The only others that had come back like that were the ones he had owned. Mind, body, and soul belonged to him. Although M’ta continued to venomously deny that the bluerider had such a claim over him. Denied that he in fact loved him. When they both knew that the poor short man was living in a world of delusion. Z’ves was primarily still very unconcerned. The rider gave a smile. “Of course you are insane M’ta. What normal person holds a knife to the throat of his love?” Pale blue eyes watched for a reaction before he continued. “You're right in one thing though. You do have nothing that I want. But maybe if you ask nicely darling I’ll listen. I have before.” Not terribly often and never completely but the bluerider was looking for enough distraction to get the upper hand back. Shouldn’t be too hard.

Ah and finally the reason for M’ta’s bluffing was proved to be, as Z’ves so rightly thought, Lovely. “Who cares what your dragon thinks? This isn’t your dragon’s issue. It’s mine. It wasn’t her place to interfere. The fact that she even attempted it, sloppy or not, condemns her. I don’t take serious threats against my life lightly.” The man’s tone made very clear that he didn’t consider what was currently happening serious at all. “What makes you and Lovely different is that you love me. She doesn’t.” He didn’t have the same level of control over Lovely that he had on M’ta. Not at all. Heartfelt or not this time, that might change as the bluerider finally completed the cycle with M’ta. No she had to die. Nobody ever was allowed to survive after they attempted something like that. Lovely would join the rest. And the silly brownrider wouldn’t be able to talk him out of it. This was likely only an act to make M’ta feel better about it anyway. Then when Z’ves killed her he could at least pretend that he had tried. At least that was what Z’ves believed. Silly M’ta.

There was still of course the issue of this blade at his throat. With a lazy and calm gaze he regarded the smaller man. “Seriously M’ta. Let’s just be rational now. Put the blade down and lets talk this over like sane people.” His tone was gentle, encouraging. All the bluerider needed was one moment of hesitation. When it came, whether in regards to his words or a different thought, Z’ves reaction was almost instantaneous. With a quick movement the bluerider moved his head and attempted to knock the blade away from his throat with a quick strike of his forearm against the blade. He was likely to obtain a small nick but small price to pay for keeping his jugular intact. Then he lunged forward grasping the smaller brownrider by his knife wielding arm and his other elbow, attempting to overpower him and pin him to the bed using mostly his weight and forward momentum. Ignoring his injured thigh’s protests of movement Z’ves struggled to get the upper hand on his midnight visitor. “Just give it up.”

[Requiem]

The brownrider was doing his best not to listen too closely to what it was Z'ves was saying. It would just upset him, and then he'd have to try to hide that upset or the bluerider would continue poking at it until he got a rise out of M'ta. The problem with not paying attention to the words, though, was he ended up concentrating almost completely on the tone behind them. Which could be worse. Was often worse, actually. The blanket was clutched tighter around his shoulders.

Flippant use of those endearments. Even had it been someone who actually meant them, they would have seemed strange to the younger man. R'wign had called him brat, after all. With affection of course. These were just too sickeningly sweet. Perhaps that was the reason Z'ves used them. They were just so...incongruous. And, sure enough, endearments or not, the bluerider dismissed everything he'd said, just as M'ta thought he would. Why? Can't you just be...human for once? For your own sake? But apparently the older man wasn't telepathic.

"I don't love you," he stated flatly. He had yet to discover where Z'ves was getting that one from. The bluerider's shifting tone caught him a little flatfooted again, the gentleness behind the words momentarily causing him to think on them. Or maybe it was more his desire to believe that something could be worked out now before it was too la-

As if on cue, Z'ves was suddenly moving. He caught M'ta completely by surprise. Or, at least enough that the lunge caught M'ta and knocked him onto his back. Strong for his size as he might have been, the bluerider definitely had weight on him and M'ta was already at a disadvantage on his back. A moment of panic more powerful than when Z'ves had pinned him to the wall, half-strangling him, gnawed at his stomach. M'ta thrashed beneath the bluerider. Weight on him. Pinned. His legs wrapped around Z'ves's waist and he attempted to throw him off with a powerful twist of his hips. But that power was limited with his upper body almost completely immobile. Eventually his energy began to wane, the brownrider forcing himself to acknowledge, to remember that Z'ves had no interest in him that way. Not his type he'd said, multiple times. Forcing himself calmer, it was something else that drew the last of the fight out of him.

He felt warm blood dripping down on him in slow droplets. His eyes went to the man's arm. Not deep, but deep enough for the blood to get on M'ta. "You're bleeding," he murmured, in the flat tone that sometimes indicated upset and sometimes indifference. Dark brown eyes met Z'ves' pale ones, the knife falling from his fingers. The bluerider would likely make something of the comment and subsequent action, something to fit into his picture of M'ta's supposed love for him. Irony. It was over, then. He'd known this was how it would end from the moment he stepped into the room.

"You couldn't just let it go," he commented, a touch of bitterness tainting the words. "I'd be surprised if she ever actually kills a single person." Which was much more than he could say for himself. Such a stupid reason for all of this. M'ta sighed, legs unhooking from around Z'ves' waist. "Can I ask you a question?" Which was rather a stupid question to lead off with. So he didn't even wait for an answer. "Giving back the nipple ring..." And here he paused, suddenly realizing that his torso was exposed again after the struggle. He worked to regain his equilibrium. Nothing he could do about it now. "What does it mean?"

[Rei]

The fight from M’ta was not something that was unexpected. Z’ves rode it out without comment, ignoring the angry protests from his thigh. Highly annoying that. Pain helped him to concentrate on nothing but the task at hand though. Which was keeping the upper hand. Not that the bluerider really expected M’ta to stab him or anything. But accidents happened and the man beneath him was panicking a little. He could see it in his expression. As hard as M’ta tried to hide some of those expressions, things leaked through. The panic was tempting though. To push or not to push? Before he could really decide the small brownrider beneath him stilled and his chance mostly fled. Well darn. Ah well there would always be other chances.

Calmly blue eyes traced back to the shallow wound as M’ta spoke. With a soft snort Z’ves gave a half shrug, keeping his grip on the other rider tight for the moment. “Your point? I’ve bled a lot in my time.” The words were unconcerned, dismissive. “You can kiss it and make it all better if you want?” He said with a grin. The sudden change in M’ta’s mood was very apparent. The bluerider didn’t always understand the younger man’s fluctuations in mood but he did enjoy them. He preferred fiery to subdued though.

Giving M’ta a rather bored look Z’ves loosened his grip and readjusted to a more comfortable position, not quite sitting up just yet. “See now. We both knew how this would turn out. But I suppose you needed to throw your little fit.” Really if M’ta hadn’t made some sort of pointless spectacle then perhaps the bluerider would have been more worried. No he had expected something to happen. Maybe a verbal spat and an attempt at some type of pointless deal. This wasn’t exactly what Z’ves had expected but then M’ta had always been good about surprising him.

Like even now for instance. One eyebrow raised as the bluerider moved to sit up. Finally releasing the smaller man beneath him. “Let it go? Why should I let it go? An attempt is an attempt. I don’t care what you think. Desperation does funny things to people.” M’ta of all people should understand that one. As the legs loosened from his waist Z’ves straightened up and merely glanced at the shallow wound in his arm which had, by this point, mostly stopped bleeding. Blue eyes flicked briefly to the irritated Lucith before moving back to the man still sprawled on his back on his bed. Was going to say sure why not, but he had went on without the obvious answer anyway. Almost without thinking about it the bluerider’s eyes drifted to the ring in question.

With a smile he flicked the ring lightly, finger just barely avoiding touching skin. “What does it mean?” He repeated and then made a show of considering. “Why should I tell you? And furthermore why does it have to have a meaning?” Oh it did. One that likely made sense only to Z’ves but why should he share that information? Finally the rider gave a grin. “It was a gift.” Meant M’ta was his. That he could take it back whenever he wanted to. “I no longer need that ring to hold onto you as mine. Because that is what you clearly are. One day I’ll take it back. But you aren’t ready yet.” Like R’ril wasn’t ready. Like Nadine hadn’t been. One day when Z’ves was ready to end the cycle he’d take it back and it would join the rest. It was the ones like M’ta that he oftentimes found himself remembering the most after all. “But why worry your silly head over things like that?” The bluerider asked with gentle humor, leaning down to lick M’ta’s forehead with a grin.

[Requiem]

No point. No point at all but the slow-acting poison used as a sedative smeared on the blade. In two, maybe three candlemarks' time it would put Z'ves to sleep. That much he was sure of. Ingested that was all it would do. In the bloodstream...it would likely stop his heart. M'ta couldn't know for sure. Couldn't have done it if he did, but the likelihood was high. The brownrider was a clever man. He knew the limitations, the risks, and himself. Could kill Z'ves directly but wouldn't. He also knew that Z'ves hated having anything less than full control, that even if he didn't believe M'ta would do anything...he'd still have to take control back. It was tempting to say something about it. The brownrider was even morbidly curious what Z'ves' reaction might be. But M'ta's life meant something (to a lot of people who weren't him) and he kept silent.

Even if part of him was withering beneath the knowledge that for the first time in his life he'd just planned and executed the death of someone who meant...something...to him. What, he wasn't sure, but something. Maybe Z'ves would survive it. Yeah. Maybe. M'ta's eyes focused somewhere over his shoulder, not really hearing the response to words not actually meant for the bluerider in the first place. If he could have just let it go he wouldn't have had to die. Idiot.

The question was a matter of curiosity, of course, but also voiced to change the line of M'ta's thoughts. He didn't trust himself not to say something aloud. The brownrider crumbled beneath guilt all too easily. Like the one time he'd gone out with the full intention of cheating on R'wign just to get back at the man (a laughable concept given M'ta's myriad of hangups with phsyical intimacy, but the intent was real enough). R'wign had known everything within a candlemark. Guilt just wasn't something the small man handled well at all. Focusing on the nipple ring helped a little.

The bluerider might have been surprised, actually, that he was only confirming what M'ta already suspected about it. Not so hard to read, Z'ves. There was no reason for him to give the ring back unless he was certain he could take back his 'trophy' whenever he wished. The concept had bothered M'ta precisely because it was true. Addiction was the wrong word for it. There was an abject loneliness in the man that Z'ves had somehow helped ease over the last months. So yes, he was attached, if only because he'd be alone again with R'wign's ghost and Behruth's depression, with the responsibility of a daughter and weyrlings, with the work that he abhorred because R'wign was everywhere and achingly absent in the infirmary. And in the weyr. Too much pressure for one person and no one to help relieve it. So what if Z'ves was a monster? He was the type of monster M'ta understood. Pitied, on some level, because the bluerider was more broken even than M'ta was, and he'd never get a chance to repair that brokeness now. So what if Z'ves was a monster? The brownrider didn't care if control was taken from him. It was a relief. You weren't responsible for anything if you weren't in control. Weren't responsible for your dragon Betweening, your child being orphaned, the weyrlings looking up to you and expecting someone who had his shit together and wasn't being self-destructive and hovering on the brink of collapse day after day. He had to stop thinking about this. Or tomorrow would seem...too difficult to face.

He was trembling. His breath was coming raggedly as he fought for control with himself. The lick was actually welcome, because it jolted him from the train of thought and from the sudden urge to let the complete hopelessness out in tears, the familiar defensive reactions kicking in like old friends. Revulsion tightening in his stomach at the too-familiar gesture against any other feelings it might have produced. The flare of anger behind eyes, mirrored in a flaring of nostrils. Emotional defenses. M'ta pushed Z'ves away forcefully in one of his frequent, sudden mood swings.

"Stop that," he hissed. Not that it would make Z'ves stop at all. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, not trusting the bluerider enough to turn his back to him. More familiar concerns. Comforting in their familiarity. And then he fought, because fighting...well. It meant you didn't have to think. "You'll never take it back, Z'ves. You can't yet because you don't have me yet, isn't that right? Even if, for the sake of argument, I were to admit that you have a part of me, you don't control everything I do and I'm not broken. Nor will I be. You think you can do in a few months what others couldn't do with four times that..." Fucking idiot. Why was he just shooting his mouth off now?

Oh. Right. What would it matter? In a few hours Z'ves would most likely be dead, and honestly he'd probably have gone back to sleep in less than an hour. It didn't matter anymore, did it? Z'ves could know everything. And never be able to use it against M'ta again. That was pretty liberating, yes. Of course, it didn't entice M'ta to spill. He simply narrowed his eyes on Z'ves, then reached for the dirk recklessly. Slipped it back into the sheath, wondering if he'd see a reaction other than amusement. Even just the tiniest flicker of doubt or apprehension would have pleased him.

[Rei]

Z’ves watched M’ta curiously as the man trembled beneath him, his breath coming in ragged gasps. What had the little man so upset? That he had lost this attempt at whatever? Had he really expected to win? Laughable. What was so special about the girl? Nothing. She meant nothing. So why then did this man care what happened to her? Regardless it changed nothing. Whether M’ta was upset or not she would die and that would be that. Life would go on as it always had and the brownrider would get over it. Just one more sore spot for Z’ves to poke at when the situation arose for it. And oh would he enjoy poking at that spot. Just like he had all the others. After the lick was complete the bluerider actually grinned as he started to pull away. Here we go. There came the reaction he was more used to. The flare of anger and possibly frustration in those eyes. The flare of nostrils. Like that of a pissed off herdbeast.

Much better. The older rider took M’ta’s sudden and forceful shove with a laugh. “So violent. Tsk. If you wanted me off you, you could have just asked.” Z’ves admonished with no small amount of humor, one of his hands coming up to needlessly rub at his chest, as he shot the younger man a mock wounded look. His head tilted as M’ta finally pushed himself up into a more upright position. However his blue eyes didn’t focus on the other rider’s face. Instead they went to his chest and the scaring and the ring. A soft chuckle was given. “Delusional. One day you’ll just accept that.” With a sudden movement the rider reached forward and seized the nipple ring between two of his fingers, his tone bordering on icy. “How many times do I have to explain things to you before they sink into that thick skull of yours. Until you accept it?” He slightly pulled the ring before simply letting it go.

“I will take it back. You’ll beg me too like they all do. In their own way.” A grin was offered to M’ta then. “I control more than you consciously realize. You’d do anything I asked given the right situation and mood.” And he would to. M’ta would dance. Like they all danced. His version of the dance was different but then in ways they all performed differently. Z’ves may not always understand M’ta’s actions but in the end he knew and honestly believed that they were all borne out of attachment, affection. Just like Lucith’s were. It was the way of things.

With a mild shrug he flicked M’ta’s nipple and pulled back, eyes focusing on the other man’s face with a smile. “I don’t think. I know. Time plays a role yes. It always does.” But in the end there was no escape. “Those others are not me darling.” No they obviously didn’t have the hold and power that Z’ves did. He was cocky enough to believe that no one did. And he had the track record to prove it. M’ta was a rather difficult and interesting toy. He just held more amusement than most of the others. Made of stronger stuff.

When M’ta narrowed his eyes and reached for the dirk Z’ves simply grinned and waited. Blue eyes set unflinchingly on the man, predominantly amusement dancing in their depths along with curiosity. Really? Were they really going to go in another pointless round? But apparently not. The bluerider was almost disappointed when M’ta sheathed the dagger, and he waved off Lucith’s loud growl with easy indifference. “See it’s better this way. Just accept it. In the end you’ll be better off I promise.” No more silly people to muddle things up. Z’ves quite liked that idea. “Now then if you are quite finished with your tantrum?” The man let the sentence hang.

[Requiem]

Yeah, asked. M'ta shrugged off the laughter. It was almost too bad that Z'ves wouldn't know, actually. Would he be laughing, then? Irritated, the brownrider's eyes narrowed further. "You think you know me better than you do." Anything else that might have been said, however, was arrested by the fingers on the ring. The younger man went still. His eyes focused on the bluerider's face with a certain defiance. Yeah, just pull it out again. Like that ever made a difference...

His dark eyes actually took on a hint of amusement when Z'ves let it go. Rules, rules. Even the bluerider had rules, had to follow his own game. "That's nothing special," he returned softly, and, yes, with a hint of mocking behind the words. "Given the right situation and mood, anyone could do anything. Or did that escape your notice? The question is whether you're smart enough to figure all those motivators out. Which you haven't. So what's your point again?"

No, those others were not Z'ves. Most he hadn't known by name and didn't take much interest in him beyond the moment. The others were more human...for the most part. Doing a job. They weren't Z'ves, but Z'ves didn't have the time he needed even if it was possible, because M'ta wasn't chained to a wall. He wasn't defenseless. He wasn't a fourteen-turn-old the size of a ten-turn-old. It was the bluerider who was at the greater disadvantage now. A wry smile greeted his words, though there was another flicker of irritation at the use of 'darling.'

"Better off," M'ta repeated. Ironic. Yes, yes, he would have been better off without Erilena's interference. It made everything that much more complicated. How many times had he had to run interference for her, make compromises he wouldn't have otherwise had to make because she freaked out over a touch to her stomach? A look? If losing Feyrianth wouldn't have hurt Behruth so much...well, conscience would get in the way. But the truth was they would have been better off. As usual, though, what was better for M'ta was put way at the end of the line. Instead he was killing a man in cold blood and assisting in his own suicide cause yeah, that was life. Apparently.

Bitter a bit?

His jaw worked slightly. Tantrum, hm? "Yeah. I did what I came to do." Unless some miracle of constitution saves you, you'll be dead before you wake. Would the words disturb Z'ves any? Obviously he hadn't convinced the bluerider of anything, but no...too arrogant to be put off by something that subtle. "Should be more careful what you let cut you," he added, perversely, a dark, mocking smile touching his lips. "With all the blood shed in this room, did you really think I was suddenly squeamish?" M'ta gathered up the blanket and moved to stand. Curious to see how long it would take for Z'ves to put it together. If he did.

[Rei]

Was Z’ves really surprised that even now M’ta found cause to argue with him every step of the way? Not really. It was almost something comfortable by now. The brownrider liked to go on and on about how this was wrong. Or how the bluerider missed this or didn’t understand this. It was tiring really. Z’ves comforted himself with the fact that in the end none of M’ta’s denial or pretests would matter anyway. He would one day he shown, quite clearly, why he was so very wrong. They didn’t always get it half the time the bluerider noticed. Then again perhaps it was just harder to see on the inside where things were a bit muddled by the circumstances you were in. At any rate the man just passively smiled at M’ta. Shaking his head lightly as he let the short man get out all he wanted to say. Mood swings. That’s what it seemed to come down to. Sometimes he wondered if M’ta really even realized just how bad some of his shifts in mood were?

Shifting to move his cramping leg to a more comfortable position Z’ves’ eyes stayed trained on M’ta as he repeated his words. Better off. Yes. Much better off. He couldn’t really read what was going on in the small brownrider’s head. But he was willing to bet it was whatever was easiest to accept. Whatever would help him to accept the greenrider’s death more easily. He had no wish to interrupt his little metal session really. Although he was honestly curious if the result would be a M’ta that was more willing to except the inevitable. That would be actually kind of disappointing. He liked the fight. Had actually hoped for a bit of a spat. It would make the whole thing beyond fun later. So many sore areas to poke at. And if he could get those who loved the greenrider to backlash at M’ta….well then all the better. Even more fun for him.

Settling back in his bed Z’ves regarded M’ta in silence. It was extremely late and he was rather tired. But still he wouldn’t sleep. Not with the brownrider there and his leg throbbing besides. Did what he came to do? Which was what exactly? Make this whole pointless spectacle in protest of him taking the life of one silly invaluable female? Really it made little sense until you factored the dragons into it. The again perhaps not. The bluerider had made some pretty graphic threats before that had set M’ta off as well. At any rate the statement, while it didn’t really confuse the bluerider, seemed pretty pointless. The next words had his eyes narrowing slightly though.

Careful with what he let cut him? Squeamish? What was that supposed to mean? Almost without thinking Z’ves’ fingers caressed the small wound on his arm. As M’ta stood and gathered up his blanket the bluerider regarded him through those narrow eyes. Something wasn’t quite adding up. But still there was that area in the older man's head that told him that M’ta was just being M’ta. Unclear and still playing who knows what game just to be irritating. “You might have to clarify that for me. I don’t quite understand what you are hinting at. It’s been a long and tiring day. Why don’t you just speak plainly.”

[Requiem]

There was some intelligence there. M'ta glanced back at him. He wasn't really upset at Z'ves, though. More at the girl for being stupid, his dragon. Forcing him into corners. He just wanted to curl up in a corner somewhere and feel this empty hole R'wign had left behind without any interference. Instead he was playing games. So tired of his mindmates choosing him and loving others more. There was something wrong with him, something deep down that had nothing to do with all the things people liked to blame their issues on. People must know it on instinctive level. He wasn't...worth anything.

The desire to lash out and hurt someone, anyone, just because he was hurting faded. He took pity on Z'ves. "Just go to bed," he told the man wearily. Maybe Z'ves deserved the pain more than others, but he seemed to be the only one M'ta could spare. Irony. He leaned down and kissed the man's forehead with surprising tenderness. He'd loved people like Z'ves, so twisted they didn't know there was anything wrong with them. Inhuman. "Goodbye." He turned before the bluerider could make a grab for him, striding across the room and slipping out the door.

M'ta thought about going back to his empty weyr at the ghosts. Rubbed his hand over his chest, lost in thought. He decided not to tell Erilena. She'd probably figure it out, but he couldn't deal with her joy right now. The brownrider headed back down the hall. It would be the last time, he promised himself, slipping into the weyrling's weyr. He didn't need a scandal right now. But if he went back to the weyr...well. He knew himself. And some things simply couldn't be shouldered alone.

[Rei]

Z’ves blinked as M’ta spoke. Just go to bed? Well that wasn’t anything close to what he expected. Not at all. He was only further confused when the brownrider approached and then leaned over to kiss his forehead. It was completely unlike the kiss the man had offered him when he had held the knife to his throat. For once the bluerider found himself….completely at a loss.

M’ta did some strange things on occasion. But this night perhaps topped some of those. Before the older man could work out a way to react to this, the other rider was drawing away with a goodbye. Z’ves didn’t move to follow, it was late and he would further rationalize it later. Instead the bluerider simply uttered an almost grumbling return. “Yeah now that you have kept me awake. Goodnight M’ta.” He waited till the man had slipped out of his weyr before simply rolling over and allowing his lids to slip shut. Lucith’s presence watching him like always.

It wasn’t till a few candle marks later that the dragon realized with a start that something was wrong with the way his rider was sleeping. Too deep. Too peaceful. A note of panic flared though the dragon as his rider’s heart ceased to beat. And then an almost abstract and welcome calm enveloped Lucith. Peace. Freedom. Was this what it felt like? Throwing his head back towards the dark sky above the death keen that left the dragon’s throat was strangely lacking in pain. Instead it was almost relieved, peaceful. With one sweep of great wings the sinister blue leapt into the void, the echoes of his final cry still reverberating through the canyon.

Back in the weyr a tiny blue mandyr curled up upon his rider’s unmoving chest. A soft Bye offered the silent place before he too joined the others beyond. Z’ves of blue Lucith looked strangely peaceful in death. His smile for once ironically lacking the coldness it had worn in life.

{End Thread~}