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Post by glamourie on Aug 19, 2008 14:03:04 GMT -5
Nodding mutely, Ka'rys finished mopping up the blood with the towels as best he could. Getting rid of the towels was going to be a chore but he'd figure out what to do with them, he supposed. Probably throw them out and then just filch some more from supplies, and state his had been destroyed, without any real explanation. No one was bound to care anyway, it was just towels. At least, that was what he told himself, though he had the worst impression he was going to be interrogated for suspicious behavior. He blamed the heightening paranoia on blood loss and exhaustion, as he hadn't slept nearly enough. Couldn't possibly be anything else - like the sudden surge of emotions he was not mentally equipped to deal with, primarily stemming from the fact that Ciceroth was angry enough with him to snap. That didn't happen very often and Ka'rys did not know how to respond to it at all. The only instinctive response he had was to avoid the bronze until he calmed down - which meant not going back to his own weyr. Not facing Ciss. Somewhere else, then.
Ka'rys stood up and cast a half-glance toward Savitri and Mutasim. Nothing else was said, though, as he took the healer's distraction as a good excuse to literally flee down the hall. Though it was at least moderately graceful, there was no denying that he was doing exactly that, even as he disappeared down the stairs. He'd find somewhere to throw the bloody towels away and sleep in the main hall or something - anything... although he was more likely to go find a secluded, abandoned corridor. Somewhere out of sight where he could sleep without having to face Ciss.
Back in his weyr, Ciceroth snorted again, and then curled up into as tight a ball as he could possibly muster. He was too annoyed to fight with Ka'rys; His had done what he said, so he left it alone. He didn't want to argue with him about the logic of sleeping somewhere else, since there were plenty of secluded places to hide in a weyr mostly underpopulated, and if it made His feel better to avoid him, fine. He'd deal with Ka'rys's sulking when he woke up.
[ pitifully short, but figured since he fled, will leave you guys~ <3 ]
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Post by kysseh on Aug 21, 2008 2:56:06 GMT -5
Mutasim was tolerating her handling of him rather well, Savitri noted, though that could have been just general weakness from blood loss. His foot was... malformed, at best, but most of that was just swelling. Her carefully probing fingers and experienced eyes had already located the two--yes, two--sources of the problems, and she grimaced slightly to note that they were on adjoining bones... and not outside ones, either. It would make it more difficult to set them, but Savitri had no doubts she could do it. Her only doubts were whether Mutasim could stand the pain without screaming, thrashing, or losing consciousness.... the latter being the most worrisome.
She was concerned for Ka'rys and turned to see if his silence meant that he had slipped into unconsciousness, but he was not in her immediate visual range. Then she caught sight of a figure exiting the area, and her heart sank. That had not been a dismissal! It had been an end to that train of conversation before she ended up in tears, true, but...
Her back straightened, chin lifting as she wrestled with her emotions and decisively won, for now. Stupid, insensitive bronzeri-... well... maybe not. His words said one thing, his actions said another... but his reaction had been genuinely surprised enough that she wondered if he was just the typical clueless male when it came to female emotions. Perhaps. Men were not especially known for their empathy or sensitivity. Well, whatever the case, the freshly-stitched weyrleader was a closed issue for the moment whereas Mutasim remained a much more present and pressing one. Shards, but that foot was ugly!
She was surprised when he began deliberately removing his weapons from within his reach, watching in silence as he removed the belts across his chest and set aside all sorts of sharp, stabbing objects. Where did he hide all of that... or not hide it, for that matter?! Well, he could do that all he wanted while she was busy rolling up his pant leg a bit to give herself space to work. She noticed some scarring there and was curious, but her gentle fingers avoided it. That was a subject for later... later, when neither of them was tired or hurt. She gently scooted closer to him and knelt, sitting back on her heels and resting his lower leg across her knees. One hand rummaged through her bag to find the rest of the necessary implements, and then she slathered salve very gently--if very liberally--across his foot. It wouldn't numb the whole appendage, but it would at least dull the pain enough that he was less likely to lash out... for that was probably why the weapons were being set aside.
"I wouldn't be surprised if you did pass out or scream or lash out. That ought to at least dull it a little, but... this is going to hurt while I set both of the bones. I'll be quick and merciless and won't stop for anything," she said quietly, looking at him with as much sympathy as she could muster. She did not give him time to cringe or brace himself, since tensing made it worse, and then she simply grasped the first broken bone near the toes and the ankle and pulled them slightly apart until she saw and felt the broken ends naturally realign. The next one was nearer the middle of the bone and took more finessing, but she managed it quickly enough and did not look at his face as she put on the first round of bandages.
The immobilizing rods came next, and she spaced them so that they were on either side of and between the two bones: three on top of his foot and three below. She scarcely worried about him walking awkwardly on them. By the time the foot healed enough for weight, the rods could be removed from the bandaging. A few sevendays ought to do it, she reasoned, and she started applying the second round of bandaging, careful to not make it so tight as to cut off circulation should his foot swell more. Thus far, the process had taken under five minutes, but... to someone in pain, that could be an eternity, and she had been carefully blocking out any noises he had been making in order to get the job done. Now, however, she was concerned. "Mutasim?" Her tone was even, but the softness of it betrayed her worry. "Mutasim?"
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Post by reqqy on Aug 21, 2008 22:34:02 GMT -5
She hadn’t said anything. He could be grateful for that, at least, though as the girl lifted his leg to balance it on one of her knees, his throat caught for a moment. His foot was throbbing constantly, but every little movement was sending up jabs of pain. Closing his eyes for a moment, he willed his breaths to become more even, forcing back the pain until it was something at the edge of consciousness. Dissociating. Everyone who went through a lifestyle similar to Mutasim’s and survived it with their sanity intact knew how to dissociate, though some didn’t do it consciously. The candidate had always been very much in control of his mental processes on that front; he frequently employed mental defenses, and just as often knew that that’s exactly what they were. Muta had never been particularly good at lying or shielding himself from anything.
The young man looked to Savitri again, watching her spread the salve over his foot and feeling it as if from a great distance. He blinked, almost dazedly. This was perhaps working well enough…Savitri’s words cut into his thoughts. Muta frowned at her a little, not liking the sound of that much. He’d never broken a bone – well, other than a few fingers, but he hardly wanted to discuss or remember the circumstances surrounding that – before coming to Selenitas. And he’d certainly never had them set. The candidate had absolutely no idea what to expect, which didn’t sit well with him. Jabari tightened around his arm in response to his unease – then let out an ear-splitting screech the moment Savitri began to work.
It was immediately clear that while he could ignore most of the pain with effort when it was just throbbing, the boy wasn’t a match for the sudden agony exploding in his head. His body jerked spasmodically, and he bit down on his lip to keep from screaming. Shockingly enough, the worse the pain, the less likely he was to acknowledge it, and his body lost all tension in the next instant. An old, old habit that he didn’t care to analyze. He couldn’t see straight, could hardly breathe, but his face went slack and expressionless, eyes glazing over. Only the slight curve to his fingers and the undeniable distress of Jabari indicated his struggle.
The brown exploded upwards on a flurry of wingbeats, determined to end its minepet’s torture, but Mutasim used what mental strength remained to him to harness Jabari in his own will, to keep the firelizard from defending him. Unfortunately, that was only the first of the bones. Splitting his concentration made the second wave far more disastrous, the blood immediately draining from the boy’s face as lights exploded behind his eyes and the world tilted sickeningly. His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed into an all-too familiar darkness. Jabari creeled piteously, circling down to drape himself over Mutasim’s chest and nip and scratch, trying to bring him back. In the end, he just curled in a ball and quivered.
The brown hissed accusingly at Savitri’s voice. Muta himself didn’t stir beyond a small twitch of a finger, his body having crumpled awkwardly over the arms that had supported him.
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Post by kysseh on Aug 22, 2008 1:54:04 GMT -5
He had passed out.
Savitri's face tensed with anxiety as she noted that her friend was unconscious, and she paused in her bandaging to use her free hand to check his pulse on the ankle of the uninjured foot. Pulse... pulse, he was alive! His face was pale, and he was obviously out for the count, but he was certainly alive. She had been irrationally frightened for a moment and silently cursed herself for her foolishness. She was just... concerned. He was a friend, and that was the reason for her inability to emotionally distance herself from the plight of her patience. She wanted to soothe him now, but... well... she had to finish.
Luckily, finishing the treatment of his foot did not take long. There was little left to do but finish the bandaging of it and secure it as it was. It was not a pretty-looking bandaging job, but it was... efficient and would not come off. She cared little if it looked attractive and would rather it just do its job of helping keep those bones in place until they could heal. With the way the breaks were, though, if he kept off it, the tighter inner layer would help keep the foot stiff enough to let the bones heal. The immobilizing rods could go within about a month... perhaps less if he did very well. He would have to stay off it, though, and she wished he would cooperate on that count. But... then again, this was Mutasim.
It had not escaped her notice that Jabari was curled atop Mutasim's chest, and she gave the brown flit an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. It was for his own good," she said quietly, feeling a bit foolish for speaking to the flit. Her tone bespoke her apology for making him pass out, but... it was done. She carefully eased his foot off her lap and set it down and then set to work packing up her supplies, keeping a cautious eye on the boy and his flit. Mutasim did not so much as twitch, that she could see, in response to her calling of his name, but Jabari was appropriately dismayed. The poor thing could not be blamed for that; she was distressed too.
He looked so awkward lying like that. So... young. Childlike. Vulnerable. Her mothering instincts took over, and she carefully scooted over to sit beside his torso. Mindful to not disturb Jabari, she carefully--and with a little bit of effort--lifted his torso and moved his arms to drape them across his abdomen. Then she was sitting cross-legged, his upper half cradled in her arms and lap. Her left arm curled around beneath him to support him, and her right hand could not resist stroking his hair from his face, as she would do to comfort a child. Awake, he would never allow her this, but... she needed to reassure herself that he was fine. Besides, she had to wonder when the last time was that anyone had shown him any sort of affection. Of course, this was affection as a mother would show to a child--she liked to think that, anyway--so he should find no reason to feel awkward about it when he awoke. She was just... trying to soothe him. If she could have fixed the pain, she would. But, hopefully, pain would keep him from using that foot and hurting it worse, so dosing him unconscious with fellis for a full month was not exactly an option. Very well. She'd have to suffice for stern lectures then... if she could keep herself from melting like this again. That thought made her wrinkle her nose slightly. She was getting soft in her old age.
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Post by reqqy on Aug 22, 2008 19:59:45 GMT -5
He came out of it swifter than most likely would have, though in all likelihood that could probably be attributed to the frantic tug of Jabari's mind on his. The brown didn't like Savitri much, and continued to growl at her in a low rumble whenever she moved, particularly as she touched Muta. It wasn't apparent whether or not he did nothing more because he sensed she didn't mean to hurt the candidate, or due to Mutasim's obvious desire that she remain untouched by the flitter prior to his loss of consciousness. Either way, the brown remained where he was, nudging at the boy's chest in obvious distress. Mutasim had never passed out on him before. It was an entirely new feeling, and a frightening one. Jabari's growl died into something more reminiscent of a whine.
The young man may be clawing his way to consciousness fairly swiftly, relatively speaking, but the disorientation was so profound he was just scared as he became aware of things, one by one. First, the pain. A strong, general sensation that had him immediately thinking he'd been captured and beaten. His mind reverted to the time evading the Lordholder's guard in the street. Next, he noticed that he was being supported somehow, but that didn't make him feel any better. The boy had remained motionless, soundless, then very delicately began to tense and release every muscle in his body, as he'd learned to do while waiting in the silence if you didn't want to cramp up, but couldn't be seen moving. Thus he found the source of the pain, and it confused him. Because he could now tell he wasn't bound, and that the thing beneath him was a person. Could feel their hand...
Jabari's relieved croon broke through the rest of his disorientation, and he remembered, relaxing slowly. This was - that was silly. What would she be doing with him in her lap? What would anyone be doing with him in her lap? As the terror slipped away, the pain grabbed a stronger hold, though it was nothing compared to what had sent him over the edge; he could ignore it. Mostly. Cracking open one eye, he waited for her face to come into focus. Savitri. Then it was her. He didn't want her seeing him like this, much less - whatever it was she was doing. Mutasim didn't have a mother, at least that he could remember, and the strange stroking gesture was unfamiliar to him. He knew it was meant to be...soothing? Like he did with Jabari. But Mutasim wasn't Savitri's Jabari.
He reached for her hand, grasped it. This was just...strange. Mutasim liked it, in a way, but he hated weakness. Especially his. Savitri was - a friend. She was not Shitaki. He was not weak for anyone but Shitaki, because that was what the girl needed...and because they'd been close enough that he could trust her to guard his weakness as fastidiously as he did. Weakness got you killed, and weakness as a leader in a world as dark as Bitra could devastate the children he'd...Not a good subject to think on. But because he'd seen how Savitri reacted to her kindness being rebuffed, and because he didn't want to cause her more distress, he looked up at her, and smiled...weakly. Shardit. Again with the weakness!
"I was stupid, wasn't I?" he asked, though it wasn't really much of a question. A touch of bitter humor in his voice. Mutasim pressed back into her a little to get a better look at the now bandaged foot. He'd been out at least that long. Didn't sit well with him, being dead to the world...anything could have happened. The boy tried to flex it experimentally. He grimaced, but found that it was fairly well immobilized, which - was probably what it needed. Much as that irked him. "Jabari chased," he admitted, out of the blue. Mutasim was grateful he couldn't see her face from this position, however, as it would likely have shut him up quickly. For some reason he just didn't want her to think that - what? That he made a habit out of going into weyrs at night? That he was normally idiotic enough to think wandering around a room while someone was sleeping was a good idea?
"Right as I was finishing up. He...distracted me. There were only three left to do." Mutasim finally turned his head, looking up into her eyes. "I just thought I could be in and out quick without having to explain why it didn't get finished to the Headwoman." He pushed the hair from his eyes, careful to avoid the stitches. "Ka'rys has been softened by the south, but the truth is that I have, too...There was a time when I would have expected to be attacked entering someone's weyr at night. It just didn't - occur to me. Shouting, sure. Confusion, definitely. But one moment I thought I was in the room with a sleeping man, and the next...he was trying to disembowl me. Then instinct took over and -"
The boy glanced away again. "And I'm sorry to worry you. You should be with Hepaticath right now, not patching up a couple of idiots up here."
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Post by kysseh on Aug 24, 2008 15:07:27 GMT -5
The fact that she had made a new little enemy was not lost on the healer, though she chose to not acknowledge Jabari's dislike in case that should cause the situation to escalate. Besides that, Savitri could scarcely blame the little flitter for being distressed. Shadow had been inconsolable at first when he had realized of her wounds, and firelizards and salamandyrs lacked the intellectual capacity of dragons to fully understand. Whether Jabari was holding back out of fear, Mutasim's restraint, or his realization that she was trying to help... well, that was up for debate. But she was thankful to not get a new series of scratchmarks or punctures. She had plenty of scars as it was, and pain was not something she really enjoyed.
At all.
Jabari's growling turned to whines, and she wished she could soothe the brown that his person was alive and--hopefully--going to wake up soon. She expected him to be out for a bit longer, mostly because people tended to stay out for at least half a candlemark once they went down from an overload of pain. Thus, the sudden croon from the flit came as a pleasant surprise, and Savitri arched an eyebrow as she saw an eye open. Ahh, so he was waking up! She was both relieved and annoyed. She had hoped he would stay out longer so as to not attempt to ruin her bandaging job so early. But... then again, seeing him awake and obviously more his snarky self was quite reassuring. She let him take hold of her hand with no protest, just giving him a wry sort of smile as he started to speak.
'Stupid' was probably the best word for it, though 'foolish' ran a very close second. Wandering around the weyrs of adult male riders t night was ill-advised. At his explanation of the chores and Jabari's Chasing of the little gold firelizard--Shadow had 'told' her of that briefly in between spying on the weyrleader's exploits--she felt... at least slightly sympathetic. It was still a stupid idea, but he already knew that. She returned his gaze and didn't protest when he fussed with his own hair. He was awake; that was his job now. She had just been trying to soothe him, though it seemed that Mutasim was not entirely comfortable with affection. Savitri was not comfortable with it either, so she could not blame him on that matter. He did not want her touching him, so she would stop.
"'Idiots' is a good word for the two of you," she remarked, rolling her eyes slightly. He probably would've been disturbed if she went all sweet and reassuring on him, so, luckily for him, Savitri lacked the capacity for those sort of behaviors. "Wandering around someone's weyr at night was fairly foolish, but him pulling a knife on you wasn't especially brilliant either. I'm just glad you're both... mostly in one piece." There was a touch of humor in her smile and voice, and she moved their joined hands to tap him beneath the chin to refocus his attention on her. "I consider you a friend, and I help my friends. Don't worry about Hepaticath. She can survive a candlemark without me, and she's resting now so she can bother me later." 'Bother' was not the right word, perhaps, but it would suit. Hepaticath, for all her lack of visible vanity, had no doubts that she was, in fact, a queen. Savitri privately thought that Hepaticath held herself above Aslath in many regards, though she would probably never, ever act that way. The little gold weyrling was very careful to maintain a calm and dignified bearing... or, as much of it as she could with the clumsy, growing little golden body she had.
"By the way, I saw that look, and you'd better not try to move that foot. If I have to set it all over again because you're being ridiculous, I'll be very mad at you," she told him quite bluntly, though it was softened by the fact that she was still smiling a bit. Boys. What idiots they were! "Do you need another few minutes to rest before I help you back to the barracks?" Pouring his wounded body into bed and dosing him liberally with fellis were high on her priority lists, though she did not want to have to carry him. She was not that strong, and just cradling his torso in her lap, she could tell that he was heavier than he looked, shard him. It had to be muscle... pure muscle.
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Post by reqqy on Aug 25, 2008 1:07:13 GMT -5
Mutasim frowned mildly. He didn't much like Ka'rys, but he thought that had more to do with the fact that the man had given him his first real shock in over a turn and - well, yes, that instant fight or flight reaction could do nothing but remind Mutasim of himself. More, almost everything about Ka'rys reminded Muta of Muta. The young candidate wasn't so clueless, certainly, but almost everything else fit the pattern. The initial assumption that he was being attacked, the fighting style that relied heavily on speed, the smaller size, the aversion to being coddled, and the instinctive response to push away anyone who got too close. In the end, Mutasim didn't much like himself, though. It was one of the reasons he'd begun to change, albeit gradually; he didn't like the candidate called Mutasim. There was a time when he would have pitied the creature he'd become. So...closed off. So fearful. Fear...was something he despised. That couldn't make him change completely, but it was this desire to be what he had been on the streets of Bitra before - everything else - that warred with his paranoia and made everything so confusing to the people around him. And to him.
"You think Ka'rys protecting himself from what he thought was a threat was foolish?" the boy questioned, his tone soft, but genuinely surprised. "It would be foolish not to react that way where we came from. I can't blame him...even if I'd gladly let him bleed all over the floor a few extra minutes out of spite." The smile that she would never see was distinctly humorless. "He wasn't trying to kill or seriously hurt me, you know. I had no trouble crippling him if that's what it took, but...no, you shouldn't blame Ka'rys. Completely my fault. I'm the idiot who went into his weyr and violated the one place he feels he should be allowed to be vulnerable." If nothing else, Mutasim was never less than honest about things - though he didn't always paint the whole picture, and sometimes he was speaking lies that he himself believed.
His head turned back to Savitri's in response to her prompting, and he found himself - confused. Not by what she was saying. Instead that he couldn't seem to shake how close their faces were, and the moment he thought that, other things started getting to him. Mutasim was beginning to fully come to about now, and the fact that he was half in her lap, his hand clasping hers, hit him rather suddenly. This was not how he interacted with people. More, when he did engage in any form of touching, it was either brief and casual, or generally his offering some form of comfort. To be held was distinctly...unfamiliar. And as such a touch frightening, though not in a way that would have him looking for his daggers or starting and trying to run. It was frightening in an entirely different manner. First, Savitri had seen him at a weak point that was low enough to compel her to offer him this. Second, that Mutasim had become open enough in his interactions with her that she didn't resist the impulse. And third, that he genuinely...didn't mind it so much. The thought of it, yes, but the truth was that if he didn't like it, he would have already reacted negatively.
Then her words distracted him - fortunately? - and he knew his expression was far too unguarded. She would easily be able to tell that he was surprised again, as he could feel his eyes widening, his face going slack despite himself. Mutasim struggled to mask it, if only because he wasn't ready to be that easily read. Wasn't secure enough with himself and the nagging voices that told him, clearly, that he shouldn't be allowing her to get this close, because, in the end, it would only hurt her. His lips pulled up in a wry expression. "Your taste in friends leaves much to be desired," he returned. The words didn't quite have the sting to them he'd wanted, though, and he couldn't force himself to let go of her hand or move away from her warmth.
It was just the weariness from the day and the lingering, throbbingly powerful pain. That was all it was. People normally sought out comfort in such situations, right? Yes. Mutasim could believe that was it, and so he told himself these things, and it made him relax a little more. It didn't...mean anything.
His lips pursed in a small moue of distaste. "I'll be mad at me. That wasn't exactly a picnic." The attempt at humor fell a little short, simply because it was completely true. By this time Jabari had allowed himself to slide into Muta's lap, where he nudged at the candidate's inner thigh and generally loved on his humanpet, more than just a little relieved to be rejoined. The brown had always been particularly dependent. Mutasim's free hand stroked Jabari with an affectionate absentmindedness. It had started with the flit, really. That was when people began to notice that the candidate wasn't as - heartless - as he projected, and as they became harder to scare off, Mutasim became more willing to adjust and maybe not try so hard to distance himself.
Concern and definite dislike of her next suggestion lurked clearly behind his eyes before he offered her a shrug. Yes, he had to get back to the barracks sometime, much as he wouldn't mind just...staying here. And the fact that he didn't mind it impressed upon him that the situation needed to be changed before he went too far in this strange vulnerable state he found himself in. What bothered him, really, was that, while Savitri wasn't delicate, he didn't know if she could - or should - help him by herself. Then again, he didn't want anyone else to, either, and there was little doubt that he would need some help.
"I suppose it won't bear any weight?" he asked her, rather plaintively - hoping that he was mistaken. Then he just let out a small sigh, resting his chin on their joined hands for a moment. "It won't stop hurting any time soon, so better to get started sooner than later. But...aren't you still hurt yourself? I'm not...light. Definitely not as much of a lightweight as I seem." His eyes searched hers with genuine concern. He could...crawl...if he had to, he supposed. The thought of anyone touching him but her made his skin crawl.
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Post by kysseh on Aug 26, 2008 14:48:52 GMT -5
He was trying to defend Ka'rys suddenly? "I never said he was foolish. I just said that pulling a knife on you and continuing to fight was not among his most brilliant of choices," she said dryly, sighing softly. "I suppose I'm just not used to that sort of violent reaction to anything. And no, you aren't in the right. But I don't think he is either." Then again, who was she to judge? She could mull on that later, when the issues of Mutasim's health and safety were not primary on her mind. No, Mutasim had not been right to invade Ka'rys' weyr at night as he had, but could Ka'rys have really seen Mutasim as that much of a danger? Perhaps so. She looked down at the boy in her lap, wondering over his face in the dim lighting. He was not... well, he was a curious mixture of child and adult, that was for certain. Maybe Ka'rys had really felt his life was threatened.
His words startled her, as did the open and unguarded expression on his face. He seemed so... surprised, by everything. If he wanted her to stop, he had only to ask. She had stopped in her stroking when he took her hand, and she would not renew it without permission. Perhaps.... was he just surprised that she found him to be a friend?! His words certainly implied that, and she wondered if he felt not nearly the same way about her. His words should have hurt, but considering how right he was, she could not offer up a single argument to them. "Apparently so. But that doesn't change it at all," she said with a gentle shrug of one shoulder, smiling a bit wryly down at him.
He was at least admitting to the fact that it had been a mess of epic proportions, and Savitri could not resist a mild chuckle, distracted by the snuggling that Jabari was doing to Mutasim. The little brown was obviously more relaxed now that his humanpet was awake, and that relieved Savitri. She had not intended to distress the poor flitter in trying to help Mutasim, though that had been an unwanted side effect. Mutasim was comforting the little flit as well, and she could not miss that particular detail. He was not as much of a brat as he seemed, then.... couldn't be, if he cared for his flit with any measure of kindness and concern. At least Jabari had stopped growling, for which she was immensely grateful.
His words had her thinking harder, and she touched on Hepaticath's mind with a request that the gold dutifully relayed. She was going to need help. She was strong, but... she was not that strong. And he certainly could not hop all the way to the candidate barracks, not with the boats and stairs to contend with. A dragonback hop would be best."It won't bear weight for now. I'm not going to be able to carry you, no. I... I thought I could help you walk along, but that isn't going to work. We're going to fly down to the barracks. I've asked for a little help," she said mildly, failing to mention that she had done so via Hepaticath. Certainly, he could figure that out. "You wouldn't mind being carrying out to fly down, would you?"
The sound of quick, heavy footsteps distracted her, and her question became more rhetorical as a tall figure came into the area of the hallway illuminated by the glowbasket. The brownrider stopped a good few paces away, his brown eyes flickering over the pile of weaponry and the... rather odd scene before him. He tilted his head to one side. "I wanna know, but I'm just not going to ask. Deniability and all that," he told Savitri with a soft chuckle, eyeing Mutasim in her lap. "How bad is it, kid?" His tone was at least sympathetic, mostly due to the bandaging still present on his left hand. He knew how it was to be injured. "Never mind; that's a dumb question. Gotta be pretty bad. Well, Dohulth says he can carry all three of us heavyweights so long as we don't take all night," he added a bit more cheerily, crouching down to get a better look at the two. "Lucky boy, you are. Half the bronzeriders in the weyr would be falling all over themselves to land right there." He ignored the glare that Savitri sent him, simply chuckling. She was just too easy to tease.
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Post by reqqy on Aug 28, 2008 21:33:31 GMT -5
The puzzled expression never left his face. Savitri's words clearly suggested that Ka'rys had another choice he should have taken, or that the fact that it was Muta that he was facing made his choice less than bright. And the candidate simply couldn't see it. If you were in danger - or felt you were - there was nothing left to you but to face it or flee. Ka'rys was not in a position to flee. His first reaction might have been tempered sometime between the point that he had awoken and the moment Mutasim drew blade, but clearly the Weyrleader had no choice once the candidate chose to engage. Admittedly, Mutasim had no choice but to engage the moment he'd been attacked by Ka'rys, but...No, he couldn't see them doing anything differently than they had, other than Muta's decision not to kill Ka'rys at the end. The boy figured, however, that she probably had a point somewhere, and that he just couldn't see it due to - well, everything else. So he said nothing.
Between her surprise and the strange expression, he knew he'd bothered her. Mutasim didn't want to bother her right now, not when he was looking at being holed up in the barracks for - a good while. The candidate didn't do well with little to no human contact, and he was finally at the stage that he was ready to admit it. He could count the number of people he'd want to see - and would be likely to bother to come by - on one hand. Not a problem for a tenday, but if this extended much beyond that, he'd be driving himself mad with boredom. Savitri was one of that number.
He squeezed the hand he held lightly. "Hey. I'm just being snotty again. No, I can't see why you'd decide to count me as a friend, but I'm not complaining." Small, decidedly quirky smile. "It wouldn't be a good idea to argue with you right now in my present condition, right?" Mutasim could have said that he saw her as a friend, too, but that should have been obvious. If she knew him at all - and certainly if she knew of his reputation, which she'd been here long enough to be aware of - Savitri surely would know that he must see her as a friend. Putting that into words didn't sit well with him, because it gave that truth still more power, and it was something of a frightening one for him.
Watching her intently, his brows furrowed, then he began to sit up straighter, determined to show that he could do this without being - carried. Savitri already said she couldn't do it, and he sincerely doubted she was talking about a woman doing the lifting. Jabari fluted softly, moving up and fully into his lap, the eyes whirling a distressed yellow. Mutasim froze as he heard the footsteps, still mostly reclined. That was far faster than he would have liked. He bit his lip lightly, though that particular sign of his discomfort melted immediately into a blank, neutral mask the moment he saw the brownrider by the light of the glow the man carried. His body had stilled to complete immobility, a strange sort of stiffening when, prior to that moment, no one would have said he'd been moving. Clearly, though, he must have been, if only imperceptibly, for now he was as stone.
Eyes emptying of all emotion but for a flicker of irritation at K'von's initial question, Mutasim desperately wished for his blades right about now. He couldn't show weakness. Couldn't show fear. Yet he was weak and the fear ate at him so strongly it was all he could do to keep from trembling violently. It didn't matter that it made no sense. Of course nothing would happen with Savitri here, but...Mutasim couldn't change the physical and emotional reaction to the close proximity of large males. He just couldn't. The more familiar ones that he trusted, and that had only been one, were hard enough, as he had to fight himself every step of the way. But strangers? He was practically paralyzed with fear.
That was, until K'von brought himself closer by crouching. Mutasim drew himself up and shrank back against Savitri so fast it would seem as if it hadn't happened at all if his position hadn't clearly changed. Ironically, his face was even less expressive now than before, though he'd let go of Savitri's hand, his hands on her thighs in a way that was anything but sexual. His intent stare never wavered from the browrider, even as Jabari hissed, flaring his wings at the man. "I'm not letting that touch me," he stated coldly, his words flat and expressionless. If he'd had any inclination to try for the sake of not distressing Savitri, it had fled the moment K'von made the clearly suggestive comment.
Perhaps because of his sense of utter helplessness - or perhaps because he was so overwhelmed by emotion and pain that he couldn't quite keep up the forbidding mask - Muta added, "Please." His eyes flicked toward Savitri, distress lurking behind them for that brief second. "Don't let him." Barely above a whisper. The brown never stopped his threatening stance in regard to K'von.
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Post by kysseh on Aug 31, 2008 4:44:58 GMT -5
Whatever he was contemplating, he did not give voice to, and Savitri had to wonder. She was sure he had plenty of opinions on the fight and how it could have or should have or would have gone, but... she was almost glad that he did not tell her. It would have resulted into an argument that would have delayed his return to the barracks, and she did not want to keep him awake any longer than necessary. He needed to lie down, put his foot up, and sleep for... at least most of the night. It would help him to recover from the shock of what had happened, and it would give his bones the chance to at least make a tentative start at healing. Plus, it would make her feel better that he was not actively seeking other problems. Not that he tended to seek them, she thought, but... well, things seemed to come to him. Wherries.... knife fights.... cranky goldweyrlings....
He certainly had lousy luck.
She was surprised when he squeezed her hand, and her smile was meant to reassure him that she was not angry or... too upset. She was a little miffed, but she would get over it quickly. He was trying to make peace, and that counted for much more than she would ever tell him. It'd be a poor idea on his part to pick a fight now, but regardless of how much of a snot he was to her, she was still going to look after him. It was impossible for the young woman to do otherwise for a friend; he meant too much to her to just let him flounder on his own with such a debilitating injury.
It did not escape her attention that he froze and straightened a bit in her lap at the approaching footsteps, and she offered him a quick smile to reassure him that all was well. K'von was... the most trustworthy male dragonrider that she knew, and he was probably one of the few males that could handle the weight of a teen without a thought. He was a big man in height and breadth, but she knew he was as gentle as they came. He just lacked the aggression that most northern males seemed to have, which was incredibly odd but certainly beneficial. Well, she would owe him after now.
Then Mutasim was shrinking against her, his face a blank mask, and she blinked in confusion at the way his hands came to rest on her thighs. She would have been insulted and a bit annoyed by his boldness were it not for Jabari's display of aggression. It made her frown. Was Mutasim...? He seemed angry, and the coldness in his voice only reinforced that assumption. She opened her mouth to tartly inform him that he had no option in the matter when he tacked a 'please' onto it and gave her the most pleading look and statement. Was he..? He was afraid! Of K'von, no less, and she wanted to laugh, except she knew it wouldn't help.
Instead, she gently stroked a hand along his arm, trying to soothe him in his distress. "It's all right, Mutasim. He isn't going to hurt you, and he certainly won't with me here. Please trust me on this. He'll carry you out to his dragon, and they'll fly us back. I wouldn't do it if there was another option," she told him bluntly, though her tone was soft in an effort to ease his discomfort. He was honestly afraid? He seemed it, anyway, though K'von was hard to be frightened of.
K'von cringed as he too realized that he was the source of the problems now. Whoops. That had been entirely unintentional. He was a playful and joking sort of man, not a mean one. Then again, he was not exactly small in build, and that tended to intimidate people until they saw the frequently-present smile pasted across his cheerful face. He was... not known for being serious, in most instances. He preferred to make people laugh. "Sorry.... didn't mean to make things weird. She just asked me to help you out, so... well, may I? It'll make her happy, and it'll keep her from chewing both of us out for letting you sit around with a busted-looking foot." He absentmindedly rubbed his left hand. Stupid, sharding 'mandyr. That was probably why the flit had him keeping his distance. Memories of Lust chewing on his hand were... well, disturbing.
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Post by reqqy on Sept 1, 2008 23:04:08 GMT -5
He tried. He really did. Savitri's clearly shocked expression when he - shardit all - had pled with her was almost enough to get him to pull himself together, if only out of anger and frustration with himself for being so weak. Showing fear...Mutasim was disgusted with himself. Oh how he tried to thrust the terror back down, telling himself all sorts of rationalizations, though he didn't relax a bit. Couldn't. Savitri trusted this man, which meant he couldn't be all that bad. He was a brownrider, and Z'hin was a brownrider - not a small one, either. It was possible that this K'von might be as safe as Z'hin, right? That one wasn't so rational, given he knew that not all brownriders were safe. Nothing would happen to him while Savitri was here, though. No, she couldn't overpower the man. Impossible. But he wouldn't risk a witness, if he was smart, and trying to handle two teenagers couldn't be a simple thing, even for so large a man.
Mutasim tried to rationalize it, but he couldn't...change his response. It was always the same thing. He was okay - if quite wary and decidedly dangerous - with his blades at hand, because then at least he could do something if things took an unexpected and disastrous turn. It might have been less violent, the staggering fear, if he hadn't just come out of a knife fight, that nice feeling of safety he'd been rather enjoying yanked right out from under him in the seconds it took for him to evade having his insides spilled at his feet. No illusion of safety anymore.
No means to defend himself if he had to. Mutasim had no illusions; he could put up a fight unarmed, but K'von was stronger, and he couldn't hope to flee with his foot as it was if he should manage to break free.
The boy was reacting very much like a wounded animal backed into a corner. He couldn't stop the trembling in his arms anymore. Part of him was very much disgusted. He didn't like displaying his emotions at all, but especially not fear - particularly when it was unjustified. Why couldn't he stop this?! Muta nearly leapt out of his skin when Sav's hand stroked his arm, hissing sharply at the pain that suddenly stabbed from foot to hip at the unexpected movement. "I know he won't. I do," he murmured, not wanting it to reach the brownrider, though he knew the man could easily hear if he truly wanted to. "I just...can't." Vocalizing that relieved a certain tension, though now he had to restrain himself from turning into her and hiding his face like a little weyrbrat in the vain hope that if he didn't see K'von, the man simply wouldn't be there anymore.
Jabari snarled angrily at the brownrider's words, hopping a little forward and snapping at the man. Mutasim, who had been watching K'von unwaveringly since that brief glance at Savitri, revealed nothing in his gaze, though his trembling limbs and the brown's clearly defensive posture indicated his reaction beyond the shadow of a doubt. The boy seemed as if he wouldn't respond to the dragonrider's request at all. His easy, almost arrogant demeanor was gone - as was any sign of annoyance. Mutasim looked much like the child he no longer was, so small and frightened, despite the shadows of a man that had worked their way into his appearance over the last couple of turns. In the end, though, he shook his head, refusing.
Again, softly - and not including K'von, even though the man was definitely close enough (sharding man!) to hear - the candidate spoke only to Savitri. "I can't. He can't. Sav...I'm trying, but I can't..." His eyes flicked to her, before darting back to K'von, the boy afraid to take his eyes off him. "I know it's stupid, but I can't stop it. Please." He would go into a fit. Mutasim already knew it. The man hadn't even touched him yet and he was practically already there. Humiliating enough as it was. And in front of Savitri, too - if he hadn't been so terrified he would already be wishing he could melt into the floor to get away from the embarrassment.
His hands tightened on the goldweyrling. She had to understand! Mutasim would lose himself if K'von touched him right now. He'd rather walk the whole way on a broken foot than be completely overtaken by fear and memory. "Please, Sav. Anything else."
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Post by kysseh on Sept 2, 2008 0:47:09 GMT -5
He could not seem to stop trembling, and Sav had to resist the urge to wrap her arms around him and just hold him close until the shaking stopped. She would have too, but he needed to rest, and rest was not possible here. He had to get back to the barracks and sleep. This would not do, and she made a noise of apology as he jumped beneath her touch. Her stroking continued, though, just a gentle movement to try to soothe his terror. And it was terror. She recognized it as that. He was very, very frightened of K'von for some reason that she could not fully comprehend. K'von was a big man, surely, but he was too playful to be taken as a danger. Annoyingly playful, but he wasn't dangerous under any normal circumstances. He had never hurt her, anyway. And judging by his expression now, he was as bewildered by Mutasim's fear as she was.
Jabari's aggression was eyed nervously by both the brownrider and the goldweyrling, but Savitri's attention was focused mainly on her frightened friend. His gaze flicked quickly to her and then back to K'von with such intensity that Savitri wondered if... oh, shards, had he been abused once?! That would explain his fear of large men, though couldn't her presence be seen as protective... safe? She was honestly trying to comfort him, but it wasn't working. His grip tightened on her, in fact, and she wished she could do something more. He was nearly inconsolable now. "There isn't any other way, Mutasim. I can't carry you," she said softly, wishing she could do it, if only to keep her friend from being frightened.
K'von watched the scene with slightly sad eyes. He hated being feared. Sure, he wasn't small, but he wasn't violent or abusive by any means. He didn't have it in him to hurt anyone, and young people deserved special protection. The boy was not going to make this easy, though, and K'von knew he would not give in. They could stay like this for days... sevendays, even, and the boy--Mutasim, he had to think of him by name!--would still refuse to cooperate in his terror. Very well. There would be a lot of flailing, and K'von anticipated being bitten and scratched by the flitter, but... well, here it went.
He leaned forward and quickly slipped his left arm beneath the boy's knees, the other behind and beneath his back. A quick shift of his weight, and he rose and took the boy with him in his arms, ignoring Savitri's small noise of surprise. As soon as he had risen, he braced himself for the flailing and protests that would ensue. He knew they were coming, and he just stood to wait it out, watching as Savitri got quickly to her feet and hurried to his side with an annoyed expression all over her face. "Sorry, Savitri, but he wouldn't have given in otherwise. Besides, it's done now. It's all right, Mutasim. Dohulth is just a few ledges over."
Savitri began to stroke Mutasim's hair, trying to soothe him. "It's all right. It'll be quick, and as soon as we're back to the barracks, you can sleep and be alone. i promise, all right?" She moved solely on impulse and leaned in to kiss the uninjured part of his forehead, letting her hand rest lightly on his head. "I'm going to gather up our things, and then we can go." With that, she gathered up her bag, shoving his weapons into it as it was now much emptier. Her shoulder was weighted down by it, but she moved to Mutasim and K'von as the brownrider began to move off at a quick walk, glaring to make sure K'von did not jar the boy around too much. One hand stayed in contact with her young patient-friend, unwilling to stray too far from him. "Just a little more," she murmured, following as K'von moved into an empty weyr and toward the ledge, seeing the gray-brown dragon perched on the ledge outside.
She just hoped Jabari did nothing dangerous...
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Post by reqqy on Sept 2, 2008 9:09:54 GMT -5
Savitri’s words made sense. They heightened his abject fear, but they made sense. He knew, then, that it was going to happen, that his pleading had been for nothing. It couldn’t work. Simple as that. Mutasim was too heavy for the goldweyrling – or most women – to support for a long distance, yet alone carry. He wasn’t exactly a heavyweight, but he’d always been deceptively muscular, and the turns at Selenitas with decent food and better living conditions had only made that more true. Men like the Weyrleader, even, would probably struggle with him after a short distance. Recognizing all this – truly, everything about the situation was practical, and even most of Muta was, but his body and emotions refused to agree with his thoughts – in an instant, he made one last desperate attempt to throw up his defenses and withdraw from the situation before he could completely go to pieces.
In the end, though, it wasn’t enough.
Maybe it would have been if K’von hadn’t moved so suddenly. Maybe not. But Mutasim instinctively lashed out at the man’s chest with a hand, and in that one movement made it clear that he’d gone beyond reason. There was no true value to striking at the brownrider’s chest. Strangely, he didn’t make a sound after an initial low cry – one of surprise more than ought else. No, he silently thrashed, and rather ineffectually at that, as the arm closest to K’von was pinned and his legs couldn’t reach much of anything. It became a twisting, bucking dance in a rather futile and short-sighted attempt to make the man lose his grip on him, but then the memories crashed in on Mutasim, no longer capable of being held at bay with the brownrider’s strong arms holding him helpless. His eyes widened, the pain in his foot more or less forgotten, the candidate struggling all the harder for a span less than a quarter of a minute before subsiding completely, his body going limp but for a few intermittent, residual shudders.
Jabari, who had lashed out at K’von’s arms the moment the man took Mutasim, was still on the ground and screeching with a mixture of rage and confusion. His bonded wanted to be away, was afraid of this man, and yet he didn’t want to hurt him and he…wasn’t afraid? The brown couldn’t sort through the range of emotions and memories from the past that had mixed into the present. He hopped toward the brownrider, then retreated, clearly agitated. Finally, though, he took to wing, nestling himself up against Muta, beneath the boy’s chin, his body flared to protect his humanpet’s neck and upper chest. Jabari hissed again at K’von, but he didn’t attack. Mutasim’s mind had gone…blank. Nothing but a conflicting swirl of emotions. The brown nipped at him, but it didn’t change anything.
The words didn’t reach him. The candidate was in a world of quiet darkness – protective darkness. It was a world he had created turns ago that allowed him to separate himself from the abuse, where he mostly didn’t feel, didn’t see, didn’t know. Not unconsciousness, but something else, an altered state of awareness that was unresponsive. The pain in his foot was there. He felt it. Yet it came from a distance, just as – everything – had come from a distance, once he managed to find this place inside himself to retreat to. The hand on his forehead was vaguely noted, just as the arms that rendered him helpless were. If he thought really, really hard he could understand who and why, but Mutasim didn’t care to try. The whole point of being in his haven was not to think, not to understand. His mind floundered at the next sensation, however, unable to match it with the situation. Comfort? From outside? Despite himself, he whimpered at its absence, his body curling in K’von’s grip until he was nearly in a fetal position, shivering.
Soft touch. Quiet words. The voice wouldn’t let anything happen, he realized, almost…dazed by the realization. Mutasim blinked slowly, tentatively releasing his grip on his mental escape. Fear assaulted him again full-force, but he clamped down on his limbs, tension bringing out every line of his musculature. His hand moved to Jabari, the boy issuing a wordless croon to the brown, though his eyes still darted wildly from Savitri to K’von. He didn’t have the time to feel humiliated; everything else was more immediate. A weak, weak smile was directed at the goldweyrling, an obvious attempt to comfort her when he himself was beyond such, but it looked more like a grimace in his face than a smile. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Mutasim hardly noticed the dragon, as he was trying not to notice the bed in the weyr, knowing just looking at that would set him off again.
The candidate focused on Savitri’s face as if she were his only lifeline, his hand leaving Jabari for a moment as he reached out to touch that face with childlike simplicity, as if to reassure himself that she really was there. And she was. Jabari made a small, distressed sound, and Mutasim went back to stroking him. “S’okay,” he whispered to the brown. It truly seemed as if he meant the words as much for himself as the flitter, though. “S’okay. Don’t be afraid. He’s just-“ An uncertain pause. “-big. Not his fault. S’okay.” Somehow, between Savitri and Jabari, Muta managed to bring his fear down to a manageable level, although much of his reason had fled with the onset of the past. He was simply drawing strength from the goldweyrling and comforting his bonded with the simple mindlessness of a young child.
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Post by kysseh on Sept 2, 2008 17:01:45 GMT -5
K'von had been anticipating the hard smack to the chest and the ensuing desperate attempts to get free. He had actually expected a fist to the nose as well, but the low noise of surprise and fear replaced it. There were no vocal protestations, no screams and desperate cries, no pleadings. It had just been the thrashing, and K'von had held on and braced himself. Shards, but the boy was heavier than he looked! Now that he held him, he could tell that most of it was muscle. A tough one, then.... which was completely at odds with the picture he painted when he finally stopped and just went limp. That just made him dead weight, but at least he wasn't thrashing. Truthfully, K'von would have felt far better if Mutasim had continued to struggle. Right now, he felt like a complete monster for frightening the boy, and he gave Savitri a pitiful look.
The goldweyrling had expected the struggles as well, but when he suddenly went limp, Jabari curled beneath his chin and hissing at K'von, she desperately wished that her comforting did some good. Mutasim seemed largely unresponsive to it, though after a time, he did seem to tense suddenly. He moved to stroke Jabari, and she took the opportunity to look toward Dohulth, trying to sort out how best to carry the boy down to the barracks. Then she felt a hand briefly touch her cheek, and she turned back to him as the hand made its way back to the brown flit.
Oh, but his whisperings nearly broke her heart, and she was glad that K'von did not seem to hear them. Someone had abused him, then. A large man, probably. Father? Uncle? Just a stranger? The intensity of his reaction implied that it had been a particularly traumatic experience, and she just continued to stroke back his hair, feeling furious at the very thought of someone hurting her friend like that. She had seen a few instances of it at the hold, but... those had been isolated cases quickly dealt with. The children, though severely and permanently traumatized, did not seem to have this sort of reaction. Mutasim's experience had to have been particularly awful... or repeated, in which case Savitri was tempted to demand names so that some retribution could be made. But, that would have done little good but to upset him further. So, she was silent as they approached the waiting brown, and she flicked the dragon a grateful smile.
The rider paused and thought how best to get his heavy burden up onto Dohulth's neck. Even with the brown lowered as he was, it would be... interesting, to say the least. He sighed and opted to just go for it, awkwardly settling the boy between two of the dragon's ridges. "Legs on either side of his neck, and hold onto the back of my shirt, all right? We'll make this a quick hop," he promised before turning to assist Savitri in mounting-
-only to find the young woman already hopping astride behind her friend, arms wrapped securely--albeit not tightly--around the boy's waist. She leaned forward a bit to whisper in his ear as K'von settled himself just in front of Mutasim and gave Dohulth the signal to fly. "I won't leave until you're settled, all right. You can hold onto my arms if you'd rather do that. I don't mind." She yelped softly in surprise as the brown dragon opened his wings and flapped them to get airborne, circling almost lazily downward toward the candidate barracks. She had never quite got over the odd sensation of flying, though she was working on it. Dohulth was so much bigger than Tanith, and he moved considerably faster, if only because his wings were so massive. She held a bit tighter to her friend as the brown settled on the barracks platform, just to make sure neither of them fell, and then released him, sliding off Dohulth's neck and holding out her arms to help her friend down.
Dohulth curved his neck around to eye his dismounting passengers with quiet curiosity. He was a patient sort of beast and had no problems ferrying little injured ones about. The boy's upset hurt His, though, and the brown made sure to touch on his rider's mind to ensure that there would be no further upset. K'von was a bit depressed by the boy's reaction to him but was otherwise fine. And apologetic. Dohulth decided to intervene. Mine is sorry for frightening you. He and I hope that you heal quickly. he broadcasted very quietly to the boy, crooning softly aloud at both of the young people.
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Post by reqqy on Sept 2, 2008 21:17:22 GMT -5
Her hand moving through his hair was comforting - familiar, though he wasn't sure why or how. Mutasim simply continued to console the firelizard. In all likelihood, having something to do was calming him, and calming Jabari by extension, but it seemed as if the comforting undertones were helping the brown and that helped push aside some of that depressingly helpless feeling. Once or twice he reached up to touch the hand, but mostly he concentrated on Jabari, just as startled as the brown when he was suddenly deposited on the dragon's back. The flitter growled, clinging to Muta's chest, but soon both he and the candidate had settled again.
This probably had more to do with the arms lightly encircling the boy's waist, though. At first he'd stiffened, a stab of fear running through him, but then he noticed that this most definitely was not...a man...holding him. Mutasim pressed back into her to reassure himself of that knowledge, her feminine body behind him bringing more comfort than she could possibly know or understand. With her there the fear of - of that - couldn't persist. He shrunk back a little from the brownrider, though, not wanting to touch the man, his thighs tightening around the neck of the dragon. The candidate was returning a little bit to normalcy. A dragon between his thighs, ironically, helped, seeing as how it was a dragon who had taken him from Bitra in the first place. With Sav at his back, and Dohulth beneath him, Mutasim was beginning to feel - very foolish. Humiliated at his terror-stricken behavior. Part of him wanted to flee so badly, as he knew Savitri wasn't an idiot, but another part couldn't tear himself away from her. Besides...he wouldn't get very far.
Although he hadn't taken either K'von or Savitri up on holding to them, he grabbed the girl's arms the moment the brown tensed to spring, though he didn't do so very hard. Tanith had surprised him, truly. This brown - Dohulth - wasn't nearly so abrupt, and his fingers simply curled around her wrists in a loose hold as soon as he realized it would be a relatively smooth flight. Jabari was far less calm about it. Mutasim welcomed the pain in his chest, though, as it distracted him from other things. He didn't want to see the goldweyrling's face. All he wanted was to remain like this until he could get off to himself and sleep this off, though Savitri had said she'd stay with him until he was settled.
Just...wonderful. If she asked any questions... Mutasim wasn't at all a fool, and he knew Savitri wasn't one, either. He'd efficiently fended off the Weyrleader when the man was trying to gut him. His personality was not one of someone easily frightened, and yet he'd very clearly gone into a state of panic there; if she didn't connect the dots precisely, she'd at least know there was something very, very strange up. What would he do if she asked questions? Normally, he could tell his little half-truths and fend off any curiosity that way, but that method likely wouldn't be available to him. The goldweyrling was definitely stubborn enough to keep pestering him should he try to avoid the topic, or simply refused to answer her questioning. That left...Hopefully she wouldn't ask tonight, and after that he could avoid her. Mutasim had lots and lots of practice when it came to making himself scarce.
He released her the moment they'd settled, the sudden absence of Savitri's warm presence leaving him feeling distinctly bereft and exposed again. Mutasim cast a quick glance at K'von. "I'm sorry," he murmured to the brownrider, not even sure if he'd hurt the man or not. That was all he could bring himself to say. He probably owed K'von an explanation, but that definitely wasn't going to happen. Considering the ground, Muta wondered if he could dismount without Savitri's help, now that she was facing him again, but he decided that was risky and the last thing he needed was either to offend her or crumple, so he took her help, stolidly avoiding her gaze.
Luckily, it was too dark to note the crimson flush, most likely.
Blinking at Dohulth's words, the candidate was silently grateful for the distraction. Using the brown's side, he moved a little away from Savitri, pitching his words softly and only for Dohulth. "It's not his fault. Be sure he knows that, okay? I can't - explain it - but he's been a help, and I'm grateful." Mutasim normally wasn't this forgiving about such things, but the brown had spoken to him, and he knew how rare that truly was. Muta's gaze flicked up to the rider again, but just the sight made him nervous, and he faded back toward Savitri.
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