Over the Edge (M'ta

[dragon]

It was a long ways down. Which made it a scary spot to be, but also a very intriguing one. Not at all worried about heights - especially not when his dragon worried enough for both of them and was down there ready to catch - C'oar was standing near the edge of the cliff and looking down on the Weyr. Some people thought that such a position was really close to flying ... all that empty air below. But C'oar knew better ... it wasn't like flying at all. Of course, it helped that he had a dragon who could fly him all over the place. But, no. It was a different feeling. When riding a dragon, there was that security of those huge wings beneath oneself. Here on the edge of the cliff ... even for someone who flew regularly, it was still a sensation that got one's adrenaline up. One that all at once promised freedom at the same time it promised death if one gave in to the allure. Humans couldn't fly, after all, and the ingrained reactions were few. Either plain terror, in which one wouldn't be there to see. Or fascination. Very few people could stand on the edge of a cliff ... and not care.

Though it was kinda funny to look down and see his brown looking back up all in a flutter of a worry.

Stepping back away from the edge of the cliff, C'oar looked behind himself, at the forest there, always wary. Between feline attacks and Benden attacks ... it seemed like C'oar had completely forgotten how to relax. That and every last person he'd known randomly one by one vanishing or dieing. Wound up was an understatement. Seeing nothing much there to be wary of, C'oar took one more look over the edge before ambling along the edge, a few feet back. Close enough he could see, but not close enough to fall to his death should something or someone surprise him.

Beneath, Frosstyth started moving, too, still looking up and watching, worried. That was until he walked into a tree and about knocked it over. The brown flailed for a moment before managing to extract himself from the branches. By which point he had fallen behind and couldn't see C'oar anymore ... which caused a flurry of worry in where the dragon looked all over to make sure that C'oar wasn't actively pitching headlong down the cliff.

[Requiem]

Perhaps one of the few people who honestly didn't care about being on the edge of a cliff was M'ta. Of course, currently he wasn't on the edge of a cliff at all. He was streaking through the trees, Behruth's amusement rumbling through his mind.If you had Checkoth's with you...you wouldn't be lost. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled. You'd think, after five turns, he would have become familiar enough with the area to stop losing his way, but apparently that was too much to ask for. Or his sense of direction was horrible. He knew, though, that if he just kept going this way, eventually he'd clear out of the trees.

The trunks streaked by him on either side, his boots hardly stirring the leaves - likely because he wasn't heavy, for all that he was very decidedly past puberty and built stronger (for his size) than a fair percentage of men, and undoubtedly because he was a streetbrat and relative silence was something you learned quick. Even in so foreign an environment. The brownrider was, to say the least, not entirely prepared when the trees suddenly gave way to open ground, not even thinning first. It was just jungle one moment, then blinding light and the open air, and...

Shardit!

He leapt, twisting his body and planting a knee into the ground, the long dirk clearing its sheath and plunging deep into the ground to stop his forward momentum. M'ta felt the blade catch, bend, begin to break, and managed to drive his longer dagger into the ground with the other hand right before it gave. He skidded to a halt with one leg partially dangling over the edge of the cliff, his chest heaving from the sudden adrenaline rush of nearly flinging himself over a cliff, of all things, and not the headlong dash.

Pulling his leg back in, he glanced over his shoulder at a sound behind him, staring up at a tall man who looked...vaguely familiar but he couldn't really place. M'ta visibly winced as he eased back on his seat, fingering the shredded pantleg and torn up knee. At least he wasn't lying in broken pieces at the bottom of the cliff though. Kinda stung. "So...nice weather we're having?" Brief, sheepish smile. One glance at the broken dirk, and he tossed it over the cliff. Psht. Good blade, that.

[dragon]

Having someone come blasting out of the forest not far ahead of him was exactly the last thing ... and exactly what ... C'oar had expected. As convoluted as that might be. Considering the speed at which it happened, C'oar didn't really have time to do much in the way of react other than to suddenly stop walking forward and step back instead. He started to reach for the hilt of his sword, over his shoulder, but arrested the motion just as soon as it started as said individual continued on in a most perilous direction ... right over the cliff.

How said person managed to arrest such flung out pitched attempt at a flying lesson was really interesting, to say the least. As M'ta started to pull himself back up on top, C'oar started forward again, toward the spot. "M'ta?" He asked, astounded. C'oar started to offer the other brownrider a hand up back atop the cliff, but by the time he got in range, M'ta had already managed to get himself up. So instead C'oar offered him a hand back to his feet instead. "What are you doing leaping off of cliffs like that? One day your knives are gonna fail you, you know." He pointed out. "Kinda like that one tried to do." He nodded in the direction of the falling broken knife.

Below, Frosstyth saw the whole flying-man show from a whole other perspective. Followed shorty by the twinkle of the falling blade. He paused a moment to wonder what it was as it rapidly got closer to him, twirling and twinkling down the face of the cliff. At the last moment, he backed off out of instinct, just in time to miss getting slashed by the falling item. Leaning forward again, the brown dropped his head and sniffed it with curiosity. That was odd ... C'oar didn't have any knives that looked like that. At least ... not that Frosstyth was aware of at any rate. Lifting his head, he looked upward again. Who had that flying man been? It hadn't been C'oar ... not big enough.

Nice weather ... C'oar actually laughed at that comment. "Yeah. Nice weather." He agreed. "Not quite enough of an updraft, though, for flying."

[Requiem]

M'ta looked up at the talking head for a moment, shaking his head mildly. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. I changed my mind," he quipped, still trying to place the other man. Who knew him apparently. Not that he was altogether surprised...he was easily distinguishable from most people, after all. The brownrider didn't believe this what's-his-name had meant the questions seriously, given that would just be stupid. No one planned a swan dive off a cliff. At least, not without a safety net.

Taking the offered hand, he put weight on his leg gingerly. And yes, looked like his ankle was bruised, too. Not surprising, but he hoped it was just something mild that would go away before R'wign noticed. He didn't mind his weyrmate's touch - heh, a suggestion of otherwise would have been ludicrous - but he preferred touches that didn't involve bandaging up ankles and were likely to include lectures.

"Well, no, even if I am the size of a gnat." He actually wasn't sure what the size of a gnat was, but it sounded right. M'ta...had changed a good deal since he'd Impressed Behruth over two turns ago. He wasn't precisely at ease with the stranger who apparently wasn't a stranger, but as long as the man was being friendly his nervousness was kept to a manageable, non-aggressive level. It helped that M'ta knew he had to be Selenitas, even if he couldn't place him immediately. Probably another candidate who had Impressed before or directly after him.

"Speaking of which, has anyone told you you're...obscenely huge? If they haven't, they're just being polite. What do you eat?" Okay, so maybe he was compensating a little for his twitchiness by being overly friendly, but at least it was better than getting knife-happy. Especially considering he wasn't sure how far he could walk on this ankle.

[dragon]

C'oar hauled M'ta to his feet easily, and then looked at the cliff for a moment, before nodding. "Prolly a good idea you changed your mind. I haven't perfected my flying skills yet." He surmised. "Haven't been practicing a lot, lately." He admitted, continuing on with the rather strange conversation of jest, yet with a perfectly straight face as if it really was serious. Even when there was a dragon down below, watching and ready ... the chances of successfully getting caught weren't the best. That and dragons had these interesting things on their feet that could poke all sorts of interesting holes in a body... not the most comfortable way to spend a day. Or the subsequent month, for that matter.

"Was there someone chasing you?" C'oar asked, just to be sure, as he looked at the forest again. The last thing Selenitas needed was yet another attack. At least this time he was armed properly for fending off a pack of knife-wielding riders. There was only so much a wooden stick could do, after all. Seeing nothing, he returned his gaze to M'ta. But the tension didn't leave his shoulders for seeing nothing ... after all, he hadn't seen M'ta coming either until the little man was right on top of him... and then past and over the edge of the cliff. That had certainly been a most interesting thing to witness, that was for sure. Even just thinking about it after it was over with, done and gone.

"That doesn't look good." The bruised ankle had not escaped his attention in the least ... especially not the tender way in which M'ta applied pressure on it. "I hope it's not cracked." C'oar commented, before trying to think. There was something that you could do for new bruises, that made them not quite so bad ... something to do with a leaf. But which one? This was something covered in one of the weyrling classes, but that hadn't exactly been the most successful class he'd ever attended. He'd nearly flunked that one, if it hadn't been for Saeo coming to his rescue and cooking his results for him. Upon the thought of Saeo and realizing the direction his thoughts were taking, C'oar carefully redirected them. Thinking about her wasn't going to get him what he needed. He looked at the forest, hoping to see what was needed. Unfortunately, the leaves all looked like ... well ... leaves. To him. Any medicinal value they might have had was entirely lost on him. He was a smith, after all, not a healer. "You're not quite that small." He told M'ta.

"Obscenely huge?" C'oar asked, blindsided by the comment. "Er ... no. No one's ever mentioned it. But yeah, I know. Comes from swinging a heavy hammer and eating lots of meat." C'oar commented, distracted. Whatever that leaf was, it still wasn't coming to him. "Lots, of meat." Like any other lad, he'd loved to eat. That was for sure. Compounded by his high-calorie burning craft of choice... yeah, it hadn't been hard for him to get bulky at a younger age. Piled on top of the height he inherited from his father ... yep. "Comes in handy, occasionally ... " C'oar decided that he'd probably better call Frosstyth up, if M'ta didn't call his own brown. Because he'd really rather not have to carry the shorter fellow all the way back because of an ankle that may or may not be fractured. He well remembered the last few times he'd run into M'ta ... he hadn't been nearly as friendly as he was being now. C'oar didn't want to find out how long that was going to last ...

It was a shame Saeo wasn't there ... she'd know just what to do.

[Requiem]

There was such a thing as taking a joke too far. It had passed humor and now was dwelling firmly in the realm of 'stupid.' M'ta let the comment pass, hoping C'oar would drop it when he didn't continue. He was more interested in studying his ankle, anyway - what little he could see of it - flexing the muscles in his boot to test just how sore it was. Unfortunately, M'ta was no stranger to injury, and had a fairly good idea of which ones could be ignored and would do well enough on their own...and which ones needed to be babied. This seemed only like a mild sprain. He could walk on it just fine if he wrapped it...and not walking on it would probably result in its going stiff. Such experience told him.

"Chasing me?" He glanced up, frowning at the brownrider. Really? If there was someone chasing him, didn't C'oar think he might be a little more concerned? People didn't stop chasing you simply because you'd nearly done a nosedive off a cliff. Psht. "No." He somehow managed to keep the disbelief at C'oar's apparent stupidity out of his voice, though it took some effort. On a purely pragmatic level...he might need the other man's help if his assessment of the ankle was off, and, as such, it wouldn't do him much good to alienate C'oar. M'ta didn't know how far down the cliff they'd have to go before there was enough room for a dragon to land...even a dragon Behruth's size. The trees were too close where they were now.

"Meat, huh? That explains a lot, I suppose." M'ta had no lack of strength - or muscle definition - but he didn't eat much meat at all. (Of course, it also likely had to do with who his parents were, but not knowing them at all, the shorter rider couldn't say definitively.) Food had been hard to come by at Bitra, but especially fruits and vegetables - and spices. Which was probably why he had a particular craving for fresh growing things and spicy food, as opposed to the meat and bread that so many men seemed to prefer.

He plunked down right there and tugged off his boot, feeling lightly at his ankle with his fingers. Taking the end of his pant leg - the one with the hole in the knee - he tore it briskly, tearing more strips and quickly winding the material over his foot and around his ankle. He eased the boot back on for further support, lacing it tightly. "No, I don't think it's cracked. My bones aren't so delicate," he added, flashing a wry smile up at C'oar. Just because he was small didn't mean he was fragile. Anything but, really.

[dragon]

At the word that there was not, after all, a pursuit in progress, C'oar stopped worrying about what else might pop out of the woods. One could never be too careful these days. He stepped back and let M'ta work on his injured ankle, holding his silence for the most part. He couldn't feel the thing, so he had no way of making any kind of assumptions about it. Especially not considering he'd flunked first aid, and was certainly not a Healer to any degree. "Should I send for some numbweed?" He asked, finally. A lot of people used numbweed. Personally, he detested the stuff. But M'ta was not C'oar. So he thought to offer anyway. Storm could easily move a container of numbweed, so long as it wasn't a huge one.

C'oar crouched, nearby but not too near, just watching as he rested elbows on knees. Normally a quiet, solid sort, small talk was not his forte. Especially not when the other said person was engrossed in taking care of something important - like an injury. Finally, though, curiosity drove him to speak again. "Why were you running headlong through the trees like that?" Fast enough to miss a cliff until he was already over it. People didn't usually ... do that. Not unless they were being chased, or were scared half out of their wits. And M'ta had said he wasn't being chased ... and he certainly didn't look scared of anything.

"Just speculating." C'oar offered, with a shrug, when M'ta answered he wasn't so fragile. So far as he could tell, what he'd learned about life ... humans were quite fragile. More fragile than they knew. Granted, some were tougher than others, but still. Though he did wonder how M'ta had managed to hurt his ankle leaping off a cliff. Unless he'd smacked it off rock when he'd landed against the face. It seemed that his shoulder would have been in far more danger, having to catch and stop all that flying momentum. But he wasn't going to question it. M'ta knew better than anyone where he hurt, after all. "I don't suppose you paid any attention in the first aid class of lessons, did you? I remember there's a leaf that could help ... but that's all I remember." He added, finally. Maybe if M'ta could jog his memory, C'oar could go find the said plant. If it wasn't dormant this time of turn. There was always that chance.