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Post by dragon on Dec 31, 2008 14:38:15 GMT -5
Cloar just looked at T'rid's boots for a moment, not at all feeling like moving or getting up. He couldn't even hear. After a moment he did look up at the Weyrleader that was barely older than himself ... and weighed less. He could see T'rid's mouth moving, but couldn't hear what was being said.
Shards. He really needed to learn to lip read. Not that he really wanted to know what the idiot bronzer was saying, anyway. By the expression on his face, it was nothing pleasant. Nothing pleasant EVER came out of that mouth. Anyway ... Cloar hung onto his head for a moment more, almost wishing he would die so the pain would go away.
He was glad when T'rid walked away again, watching the boots go. Finally, he managed to get himself upright, grabbing a hold of the bed as he went. He managed to stagger around the end of the bunk, hanging onto it. He shot a glance at Corinth that dripped with hatred. But after that he ignored the swirling bronze's eye, and looked at T'rid. More than likely, part of what T'rid was still blathering on about was a rather rude demanding of an explanation. And Danar didn't look to be saying very much... Cloar really couldn't hear to tell, anyway.
So he thought he'd fill in the gaps. Inspiration had just struck him, and he hoped that Danar would follow along. The only problem was ... Cloar still couldn't hear anything except his own pulse, which sounded like a pounding gong inside his brain.
"Stop yammering like an idiot, it's rather unbecoming of a position such as yours!" Cloar started, talking loud enough to be considered yelling. But he wasn't, really ... he just couldn't hear, and thus couldn't tell how loud he was talking. "We weren't doing anything to deserve any of this treatment! If anyone should be yelled at, it's that idiot lizard there!" Cloar pointed rather accusitorily at Stupid. "That ring is Danar's. I don't know if it's got any real value to it, but it's an heirloom of his families, so you had best rescue it from that little theif, and give it back to him sooner rather than later! Danar was telling me stories about his family ... this is our barracks, we're allowed to be here! And that little runt came running in here and stole that item, right out of the trunk! So naturally, I shut the trunk, to try and catch him before he could run off with it! Give it over, and take that little pest out of here ... he doesn't belong here, we do! And stop chewing Danar out! He did nothing wrong!"
The only clue Cloar had that he was yelling was that his voice was starting to hurt. Which made him think about it. He could only sort of tell what he was saying himself, due to the low hum inside his jaw when he spoke. But he still couldn't hear. Wincing, he messed with his left ear again. When was his hearing going to come back?
Storm popped up out of Cloar's shirt, and climbed up onto his shoulder. There he sat up and glowered over at Stupid. If Cloar could stand up to T'rid with no fear, then Storm could stand there and face Stupid down, as well.
And truely, Cloar had lost all his fear of T'rid. T'rid was a pansy who wasn't worth his weight in mud, in his opinion. Barely older than Cloar himself, the Weyrleader acted younger. The only thing T'rid had going for him was having been lucky enough to impress Bronze. And that wasn't a lot, in Cloar's opinion.
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Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
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Post by Avu on Dec 31, 2008 15:32:05 GMT -5
So it was the not-so-cowardly idiot's ring. T'rid closed his fingers around the gleaming object, much to Stupid's disgruntlement, the brown 'mandyr slinking to curl around the bronzerider's wrist, his eyes glued to the finger that held the ring. His mother's ring. Hmm. T'rid...had no particular sympathy for him. He'd had a mother, sure, and a fostermother, too, but he hadn't cared about them and had nothing of theirs. And he was just fine. Nevertheless, he opened his hand, pulling the ring off his finger and considered it briefly, started to open his mouth to say something - he really would have given it back. Really. Just because he wanted to antagonize the boy a bit first didn't mean he wouldn't have. He had no use for a ring and while it was pretty, he would probably have ended up dropping it somewhere and leaving it anyway.
However, his decision was changed as Cloar staggered to his feet and started yelling at him. At first, he was distinctly amused, and it showed in his quirked eyebrow as he turned slowly on his heel to face the Candidate, curling his fingers around the ring again. Yammering, was he? He'd hardly said more than a few sentences. Well, I /was/ loud, Corinth began, almost apologetically. You deafened him? Congratulations, Corinth. You just made my day. There was, remarkably, no sarcasm in the answer as the bronzerider grinned openly at the Candidate's rant. Stupid's fault. Hmm. Funny, that, considering the brown 'mandyr was most emphatically telling him it was not. Besides which, the story was definitely lacking in some essentials. For example, what on Pern was a ring doing sitting in a trunk, precious as it supposedly was to the kid, while the trunk was, not only open and gaping for all to see the contents, but empty of all else except the ring? Second of all, Stupid had been dead asleep when he'd left the brown, and he didn't wake up that fast of his own accord.
He waited indulgently while Cloar finished his little rant - quite a long one it was, and he had accused T'rid of yammering? - and then spun on his heel again, placing himself in front of both Danar and Cloar. "Shall I give you some advice? One, if someone has something of your friend's, I would definitely not advise calling them an idiot and yelling at them, especially if that someone ranked you. Second, I don't advise blaming the victim. I'm not stupid, and neither is Corinth, and believe it or not, we both are very much aware of what goes through Stupid's mind. For example...why, if he was asleep, would an image of a ring in a trunk, in the middle of Barracks he's never been in before, come to mind? And besides, if this ring is so precious to you, why would you put it in its own trunk, and leave the trunk open and on its side? Don't lecture me on where Stupid should and shouldn't be. As long as I am Weyrleader, you have no right to tell my pets where they aren't allowed to go. If he wants to bloody come in here and maul you, I'll give him the go ahead. He did leave a few marks last time, didn't he?"
The Weyrleader was still furious, and as usual, his rage was not cooling off quickly. In fact, he was all but worked up to a cold fury. His anger was transferred to Stupid and Corinth, the latter of which rumbled again, anxiety and anger lacing the bronze's tones - and Stupid? The brown 'mandyr shrieked defiantly at Storm, frilling as he reared back on his hind legs, tail twining his humanpet's wrist to keep himself on. UGLY! UGLY STUPID DIE! he snapped at the bronze fire lizard. If not for his pitiful choice of humans, then for being so, so stupid in general. Who stood up to someone when they had so obviously won the game, and won it well? Nobody intelligent, but then - well, this was a fire lizard, and they weren't exactly known for their intelligence. Not half as smart as, say, a Salamandyr.
"As for this ring?" Grinning rather maliciously, T'rid exposed the silver ornament for a minute before he shrugged carelessly, pocketing it. "I would have given it back, but if your friend here wants to scream lies at me, I don't see why I should. Besides, if it's really all that valuable sentimentally to you, I'd say it's a pretty good punishment to take it away in any case." He crossed his arms absently as Stupid streaked for his pocket and reemerged, triumphantly clasping the ring in teeth and foreclaws. He managed to squawk his defiant joy around the ornament. Win! Win! Stupid win! he proclaimed, and a tight smile stretched across the bronzerider's face as he glanced at the other Candidate. Corinth. Yes? Which chore do you think is worse? Cleaning the herdbeast pens, or cleaning chamberpots?[/b] Umm...? Chamberpots.
Very good. "You, the one with the fire lizard. What's your name?"[/size]
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Rei
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Post by Rei on Dec 31, 2008 20:30:28 GMT -5
Danar’s mouth practically fell open as Cloar lit into T’rid. Shards why was he screaming so loud? Then it dawned on him. Cloar had been by the window. Corinth’s bugle must have rendered him temporarily hard of hearing. The lad listened closely to Cloar’s explanation but shook his head. His story wouldn’t work there were to many holes. Being a weyrbrat Danar had grown adept at lying, unfortunately it seemed Cloar lacked training in that department.
The candidate wasn’t surprised that T’rid was able to pick out the holes in the story so quickly and thoroughly. Shells there was no getting away from it now. He glared at the Weyrleader however for his remarks. As long as he was Weyrleader? Well hopefully his poor display would end when Aslath next rose. As for the statement about letting Stupid maul Cloar, the boy rather doubted Shmee would tolerate that no matter what T’rid’s position was. If worse came to worse he was sure Aslath would intervene being the most powerful creature in the weyr. He doubted she wanted candidates hurt, it lessened her offspring’s chance of impressing and so living past hatching.
Danar watched as Stupid frilled at Storm and he wished the bronze was bigger so that he might teach the little brat some well deserved manners. No matter Stupid was what his name suggested unintelligent with a flare for creating problems. The thing was a menace just like his master. Speaking of his master Danar spun around to face him as the fate of the ring was made known. “Give it back.” He stated calmly but with enough venom in his tone to revel his displeasure. “ I don’t care what demeaning stupid chore you have me do. Just give back my property. Or are you a thief as well as an dishonorable horrid excuse for a human being?” Ever word the candidate spoke made clear his distaste and hatred for the man standing before him. T’rid would be the downfall of the weyr yet.
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Post by dragon on Dec 31, 2008 21:05:09 GMT -5
Cloar could tell they were talking. He could see thier mouths flapping. And looking more and more pissed, the whole lot of them. Cloar sort of wished he could hear what was being said ... he was so out of the loop, right now. And more than likely, his fate was being sealed, too. And he couldn't tell what it was to even protest it at all. Garr! But then ... on the other hand ... he was kindof glad he couldn't hear T'rid's annoying, snide remarks. The kid ... yes, Cloar decided, T'rid was a kid ... was a royal pain in the trousers. How he had survived this long without getting murdered in his sleep was beyond Cloar ... though that big honking lizard roaring outside probably had a lot to do with that. On that thought, Cloar wondered how many people Corinth had eaten so far...
But body language speaks a lot ... and Cloar could tell when T'rid decided not to hand over the ring. And that pissed Cloar off. It was Danar's ring! The irritating SNOT! He almost opened his mouth to speak (or yell), again, but decided better of it. As much as Cloar wanted to snatch T'rid up off his feet and pound him into a bloody pulp ... oh yes, and don't forget, Stupid, too .... Cloar managed to reign himself in.
One might think he was being irrational ... it was just a ring, after all. But it wasn't just a ring. Not only was the ring of sentimental value to Danar - which Cloar was completely capable of understanding such emotion, unlike T'rid - but it was more along the lines of T'rid being T'rid, and going out of his way to make everyone around him miserable. Cloar had had his fill of T'rid, and really didn't want any more of it.
And all that without even being able to hear a word said. There was a light ringing in Cloar's ears, and he wondered if that was his hearing coming back yet ... it would be nice, to be able to sling appropriate curses back at the irritating snot. Cloar wouldn't mind a battle with T'rid ... Cloar was well aware he was bigger, heavier, and more than likely a lot stronger than T'rid was. And he was armed. Granted, T'rid was liable to be armed, too ...
In truth, the only thing that kept Cloar from that kind of action was that dragon sitting outside. The Bronze would be liable to tear the building apart, to rescue T'rid. Which was just not fair.
Yes, Cloar was pissed. Pissing Cloar off was really hard. But over time, T'rid had managed it. And Cloar very much wanted to slay T'rid, right now. His fists clenched tightly, as he struggled to contain himself.
The anger wasn't conained in Storm, however. The young flitter was practically hopping up and down on Cloar's shoulder, eyes swirling in red and orange colors, ready to attack at the word, when it came. He wouldn't bother T'rid ... he knew that was Cloar's prey. But Stupid was fair game!
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Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
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Post by Avu on Jan 1, 2009 12:09:18 GMT -5
Funny how much he wanted to rip this pair of idiots limb from limb at present moment. His dirk, fourteen inches, saw actual practice all too rarely; mock battles were always stopped at first blood - and it had never been so tempting to draw and turn on the Candidates. Either of them. Both of them. Some distant, aloof part of T'rid recognized the desire to maul as Stupid's, knew that the viciousness was not normally a part of his fury, but that part had no voice in the overwhelming anger. He swallowed the ruthless savage desire, felt Stupid vibrate against him in the intensity of his snarl, the brown 'mandyr biting down hard on the silver ring as his eyes flushed with his white fury as he glared at the fire lizard bronze, and then spat viciously in Danar's direction, smugly looping his tailtip around the ring. A quick glance around, and then the brown 'mandyr touched Corinth's mind with a - for once - private query. The bronze dragon rumbled his assent, and Stupid scrunched down in T'rid's pocket, eyes darting around the room.
That Danar tried to get his ring back made T'rid grin sardonically at the boy. "If you really want to, I'm sure we can arrange some demeaning chores," he answered sweetly, his hand straying to his pocket, but at this point, Stupid put his plan into action. With an ear-popping shriek, the brown launched himself from his mindmate's pocket, dropping to the floor and then shooting out the door, the ring clamped tightly in his jaws. His tail whiplashed under the door and out of sight, the Salamandyr adding triumphantly, HA! MINE, STUPIDS! Corinth rumbled, this time amused as his eyes flashed briefly blue at T'rid's hiss of surprise as the bronzerider rocked back on his heels, watching blankly as the 'mandyr vanished, presumably down to the safe haven that Corinth's wings offered.
You agreed to let him run off to you! T'rid accused the bronze dragon. He wants the ring. It's no good to you. You don't want to give it back. I don't see what the problem is, Corinth answered, unperturbed. Fine. Can't you give me a bit of warning next time? What next time? It's purely hypothetical, Corinth.
He sighed, rolling his eyes at the bronze's snort of amusement, audible even from inside the Barracks, as Stupid apparently made it unhindered to the bronze and skittered up his foreleg, rearing on top of the bronze's head, just outside the window, and shrilling his delighted defiance as he clutched the ring between teeth and foreclaws before he dropped to a safer, sturdier position on the bronze's neck, where the riding straps kept him from falling and gave him something to cling to. T'rid watched the 'mandyr's actions dispassionately. Is that how he /usually/ says 'thank you for saving my life'? The whole life-saving thing kinda wears off after you need to be saved fifty times a day... With an irritable frown, T'rid returned his gaze to Danar and Cloar.
"Really, I'd love to give it back," he commented sarcastically, "Because, you know, I absolutely love it when people call me names, but apparently, Stupid has other ideas. Go beg the Candidatemaster to get it back, if you want; whatever. He won't have it long. Soon it'll be in the possession of some random green dragon in the Weyr, and if you're desperate, go hunt down that green dragon. I don't care. It was," and the light emphasis had a poisonous malice, "your ring. Not mine. Besides, you ought to know by now..." He smiled mockingly. "If you use something as bait, you've got to be prepared to loose it. Haven't you ever gone fishing, Candidate? And, you, Candidate. You haven't given me your name yet."
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Rei
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Post by Rei on Jan 1, 2009 12:55:00 GMT -5
Danar just glared coldly at T’rid as he agreed to his offer on the demeaning chores. As long as it got the ring back he was willing to go along with it. It wasn’t as if the bastard would come up with anything that the lad hadn’t been assigned to do previously for fighting. The lad totally ignored Stupid’s hissing and spiting. Storm was much more muscular than the mander if it came down to a fight Stupid would die even if Storm sustained injuries they wouldn’t be to bad. As much as he wished death on Stupid the candidate rather hoped Cloar kept a handle on the Firelizard. T’rid would probably kick them out if Stupid got hurt.
Danar screamed in a wordless rage as Stupid escaped with the ring and reappeared moments later on Corinth’s massive head. “You Sharding bastard! Give me my ring before I tear your silly looking head off your body!” That was the last straw Danar had lost all control if Cloar didn’t hold him back he was set to chase the mander all over the weyr and rip his head off his head. If T’rid didn’t like it piss on him. The man was a poor excuse for a human being. Anything T’rid was saying was drowned out by the red fury in Danar’s head. He would KILL the mander. The ring was more precious to Danar than anything. His mother had given it to him on her death bed as the burning fever consumed her mind and sent her into a coma from which she would never wake. He could not and would not lose it.
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Post by dragon on Jan 1, 2009 15:54:48 GMT -5
As mad as Cloar was, as ready to kill T'rid as Cloar was, he wasn't totally red-vision predatory yet. Cloar didn't even know if he could get that way... he hadn't ever done it in his life ... yet. And even though he was so pissed, he wasn't in capable of thinking. And even though he still couldn't hear anything, he saw Stupid make off with the ring, and saw Danar's reaction to it. And he knew that Danar was much more of a dangerous wild canon than Cloar himself was ...
If Danar went berserk, the lad was going to die today. And a part of Cloar's personality that was stronger than his current anger was his hardwiring to protect that which he cared about. And Danar was his friend. Sort of. But enough so that when Danar started moving, so did Cloar.
Storm shreiked, and took off into the air, zipping out the window the moment Cloar started moving. Cloar grabbed Danar, and somehow managed to drag the lad in a circle before managing to stop him. He then promptly threw all his weight on the boy, knocking them both rather uncerimoniously to the floor. Cloar pinned him down, holding his upper arms in his vice like grip as he leaned low toward Danar's face.
"Later." Was all he said, very very quietly. Which was really remarkable considering he was still deaf. His gaze was locked on Danar's eyes, burning intensely. He, too, wanted to smash T'rid flat, and rip Stupid limb from limb. But Cloar also knew that if this tack was persued ... especially with tempers running so hot, everyone was liable to end up dead by the end of the day, not just T'rid and Stupid. When Danar struggled, Cloar shook him slightly, pushing him back down to the hard wooden floor. "We'll get it back. Later."
And then he turned his steely black gaze on T'rid, still holding Danar down. If T'rid didn't leave now and take his victory - such as it was - and split, there was no telling what Cloar would do next. Every line in his muscular body was tense and hard, his face completely frozen as his eyes burned hot.
This was not over. Oh, no. It was not over at all. T'rid would get his come uppance. Even if it had to wait a turn. T'rid would get it.
Outside, Storm flew swiftly and quickly, diving and twisting through the air. He zipped in a bronze blurr right past Corinth's head, and into the dragon's wings, hot on Stupid's tail. Uttering a shrill cry of challenge, Storm tangled with the much smaller 'mandyr in the folds of wing. He aimed for a bite to land on the back of Stupid's neck, right below his head. If he had been adult, that kind of bite would kill. But Storm wasn't adult yet, and couldn't actually kill Stupid ... yet.
And it really didn't matter. While Storm would love to kill Stupid, that actually wasn't his mission at the moment. His mission was to retreive that shiny. That shiny was not Stupids, and Storm aimed to get it back! So he was instead hoping to startle the 'mandyr into letting it go, so that Storm could fly off with it.
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Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
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Post by Avu on Jan 2, 2009 12:14:18 GMT -5
The boy's scream as Stupid took off made T'rid's lip lift in a silent snarl, his body tense as he whirled around. It was a ring. A ring. No matter what people said, it wasn't little ornaments like that that brought back memories of the dead, or whatever; it was the memories themselves. No inanimate object could hold memories in it, and people who fooled themselves into thinking that they did were merely delusional, fooling themselves because they couldn't bear to think of the memories as fancies, as ghosts that couldn't be felt. End of story. The bronzerider hissed, new rage shooting through him as the boy actually started screaming about killing Stupid. Was the Candidate an idiot? Did he not know anything? A snarl rose from his throat, a sound more animal than human, as his dirk sprang to his hand, the fourteen-inch blade held low and steady. Even as Cloar tackled the boy, the dirk remained free of its sheath.
The bronzerider was not stupid. He knew his limits. What he could and couldn't do with the blade. He was good enough that he'd survived Benden Weyr's previous attack on the Hatching Sands without any ill favor, good enough that he rarely lost the first-blood duels. While it was rare that he'd ever fought two at the same time, but they were Candidates, and dragonriding had built his strength, while his natural body frame lent him agility, and besides, Stupid and Corinth were undoubtedly quite willing to join in on the killing. He kept his voice venemously soft, fury building behind it. "Faranth help me, Candidate, if you so much as look sideways at my Salamandyr ever again and I hear of it, I will cut your throat. I don't care what rank you hold when you do it, be it Candidate, Weyrling, or Weyrleader. I will kill you."
Even as his hiss fell silent, Stupid had flinched violently backwards from the young bronze fire lizard's attack, shrieking at the top of his voice as the bronze's jaws closed, not around his neck as intended, but on the 'mandyr's frill, which had been in the way of the attack and mid-flare when the fire lizard had chosen to attack. Nevertheless, the agony shot like dragonfire through the tiny creature's body and he uttered a scream of pure rage, digging his teeth into the ring as he thrashed, his voice earsplitting. OFF! OFF! OFF! OFF! His words were shirll, insistent, furious, and T'rid, who had spun on his heel to leave, starting to sheath his dirk, stopped dead, lip curling in another snarl as Corinth snapped his wings open, his neck craning as he roared at Storm. RELEASE HIM NOW AND /LEAVE/, OR SO HELP ME I WILL KILL YOU! For once, the bronze's tone carried no warmth, only hatred. His eyes flamed viciously red as his roar became a screech of fury, the sound leaving even T'rid with a headache.
Normally he wouldn't have been so furious. The outburst was proof positive that T'rid's fury did affect the bronze, affected him badly; besides which, the fire lizard's attack would easily have killed Stupid had he been full grown, and had the brown 'mandyr's frill not gotten in the way. And still he clung tightly to the dratted ring, his foreclaws probably scratching the surface of the shell shard mounted on the ring of silver. Besides, if Stupid had died, or even been severely hurt, it would impact negatively on T'rid in much the same way that Corinth's death would. RELEASE HIM! the bronze insisted, his screech melting into a snarl as he brought his head close to the fire lizard, growling dangerously as his tail lashed. RELEASE HIM, AND IF I EVER SEE YOU NEAR HIM AGAIN, I WILL GET MINE TO /KILL/ YOURS. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD, WORM?
With a wordless snarl, T'rid spun, heading out the door, though he paused to sheath the blade. "If that little bronze worm is still there when I get out there, I swear to Faranth I'll get Corinth to scare him permanently between!"
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Rei
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Post by Rei on Jan 2, 2009 17:43:09 GMT -5
Danar was momentarily disoriented as Cloar grabbed hold of him. Part of his mind realized it was Cloar but another part of him wouldn’t accept restraint. His breath was momentarily knocked from his chest as the pair tumbled to the floor and he had to focus carefully on what Cloar was saying. Later? Shard it he wanted to kill that mander now.
He struggled briefly but quickly realized there was no way he was going to get free. The candidate resigned himself to Cloar’s hold, taking a few deep breaths to replenish his air supply and calm his rage. After a few minutes that felt like hours, he managed a nod to the other boy. “Would you please get off me now?” He asked in a breathless tone.
T’rid’s voice brought him quickly back to reality but by now he had gotten a hold on his temper. Tangling with a enraged rider wielding a blade was not on his things to do list. Having no weapon or dragon Danar was at a huge disadvantage and he knew it. He glared death at T’rids back as the supposed Weyrleader began to leave the room. Corinth’s screech of rage stopped everyone in their tracks and Danar saw Cloar’s face go pale. Suddenly Danar realized the problem...Storm. He must have gone after Stupid!
As if to validate his thoughts he heard T’rids threat as the horrible man walked from the room. Danar gripped Cloar’s shoulder to regain his attention. “Call him back quickly before he eats eaten or worse.” T’rid was leaving that was a good sign if they hurried they could get Storm out of danger and plot revenge for later.
T’rid had stomped on to many toes. He had made to many enemies with is poisonous personality. The weyr was quickly crumbling under his and Shmee’s leadership. Things were to lax, to out of control. Shmee’s part in the collapse was not all her fault. With her weyrmate in ill health it was only human for her to be stressed and preoccupied. T’rid had no excuse. Danar closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths willing Cloar to do something and soon.
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Post by dragon on Jan 2, 2009 22:22:52 GMT -5
Cloar was glad when T'rid finally left. But he didn't realize what else was happening for some time after that. Already deaf for the most part, his ears ringing like gongs, he only barely heard Corinth's fit outside. Seeing that Danar was more or less sane again, he grinned lopsidedly and apologetically at the other lad, and got up off him, giving him a hand up.
And then he noticed that Storm was missing. Reaching out for his flitter's mind, Cloar realized where the little bronze was, and dashed over to the window, almost pitching out of it he hit the sill so hard. "STORM!!!" He yelled, scared for the life of his little friend.
Storm hissed angrily, at being ordered around like that, but he had no choice ... he would leave. But FIRST ... he would get that ring!
Letting go of Stupid happened, but just as quick as that happened, Storm lunged forward and latched onto that ring with both front feet ... and snapped between for the very first time in his life, taking the little shiny ring with him.
He reappeared in the most familiar place he knew ... Cloar's bed. And he hid underneath it, shivering and shaking. But he had the shiny! He looked at it for a moment and then flew out of the door of the barracks, behind the backs of the lads who thought he was still with Corinth and Stupid.
Up, up into the tree he went, unnoticed by any and all. And he hid there, as he stashed the ring in a very safe place, yes. In the crotch of two big limbs, he dug out the soft masses of decayed leaves and moss that was in the hollow there, placed the ring in the small hole, and then replaced the moss and leaves. Tamping it down nicely, he went between again, and reappeared under Cloar's bed.
"STORM!!" Cloar yelled, again, out the window, hoping to see his little bronze leave the big bronze dragon.
Storm peeped curiously, still frightened, from under the bed. But Cloar never heard him.
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Avu
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Post by Avu on Jan 3, 2009 12:04:11 GMT -5
Corinth growled at the fire lizard again as it seemed to hesitate - and then Stupid's wrath was exploding inside of both bronze dragon and rider, his scream pure fury as the ring was wrenched from his grasp, his claws scraping hideously against the shell, and quite probably chipping off a piece as fire lizard and ring disappeared, his stream of insults directed at everybody that he had previously had a disagreement with - namely, Storm, Cloar, and Danar. UGLIES! STUPID WON, WON, STUPID WON, LOSER UGLY DUNGBUTT STUPID ASS BASTARD STUPID UGLIES! DIE! DIE, MAUL, STUPID KILL! His voice ripped through an octave as, trembling with rage at his own inefficent wings, the brown 'mandyr dove to press against Corinth's foreleg, wrapping his tail around the bronze dragon's wrist and hissing, commenting miserably on a private link to His and Corinth, Idiot stupids, Stupid's shine took gone poof!
T'rid was positively seething as he threw himself down the stairs, grabbing Stupid on the way and demanding, "Frill. Frill, let me see your frill, damnit!" The brown obediently frilled, pressing against His' palm, for once content to curl his tail around the Weyrleader's finger and close his eyes tightly, his breath leaving him with a sigh. The bite had left two holes, piercing completely through the fragile frill, and T'rid hissed a quiet curse as he gingerly touched it, his finger coming away with smears of ichor. He will not bleed to death, T'ridmine, Corinth said softly, his head pressed against His' side. T'rid exhaled violently, leaning against Corinth's warmth. "Should we take him to the Infirmary?" he murmured, holding the 'mandyr for the bronze dragon to appraise the wound. No. Numbweed and redwort it, and then just make him rest. He'll be fine. It'll heal in no time.
The bronzerider nodded slowly, and Stupid peeped curiously at him. Home? Sleep now? he asked. "Yes. Yes. And for future reference, Stupid..." T'rid glared at the 'mandyr. "If you take off after a shiny anything in the future, I'm going to pitch you headfirst down the waterfall." Trilling his amusement at the idea, Stupid loosened his hold around the bronzerider's finger, diving into his pocket and curling up there. "...I don't think he got the point," T'rid muttered, as he felt Stupid fall asleep almost instantaneously, pain and loss forgotten. Thanks be to Faranth that Stupid didn't collect shinies like some 'mandyrs were alleged to, or think that his life spun around a single ring. He'd get over it in no time, no doubt. T'rid, on the other hand...a decidedly feral hiss emerged from the young man's throat. There would be a reckoning with those two idiots. Especially the one who'd threatened to kill his Stupid. Only he could do that. If it ever came down to a battle between himself, and the boy - whose name was unknown - T'rid knew the outcome, assuming both of them were armed and fit. He would win. Undoubtedly. He'd had more training, was stronger and knew what to look for, knew how to fight.
The boy was a fool.
His emotions affected you more than you know, T'ridmine, Corinth said softly, pressing his muzzle against T'rid's chest lightly. Don't do anything you'll regret, Mine. Calm down. Thanks for backing me up, Cor. You're not half bad sometimes. The bronzerider grinned crookedly at the dragon, and Corinth huffed in amusement. Let's go. Let's. T'rid pushed the bronze's muzzle away, vaulting onto the dragon's neck. The straps went ignored - he didn't need them; it was just going to be a short trip between, and - let's be frank - he could hold on perfectly fine. Corinth would have a hell of a time trying to get him off, truth be told. Corinth rumbled at the thought as he launched himself into the air, transferring between.
Away from this mess.
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Rei
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Post by Rei on Jan 4, 2009 13:06:55 GMT -5
Thread closed <333333
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