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Post by dragon on Apr 27, 2009 18:36:16 GMT -5
The packing wasn't going very quickly. More to the point, it wasn't going at all. He was seated out on the weyrledge, shoulder and head leaned against the edge of the wall there. The weyr was completely silent for it, other than the sounds filtering in from the canyon, from life out there. Other than the two flitters, one bronze and one brown, sitting together and shifting occassionally, there was no movement inside at all.
The big pale blue presence that had been there just a few days before was gone, and would never be back. Kindrith was gone, forever.
E'yan ... or Emoyan as he was now again ... hadn't even gone down to the weyrling barracks to see him, before they had hauled his body off and dropped it between. He just hadn't had the heart to do it. More to the point, he felt like he didn't have a heart at all anymore. There was just this big, empty, glaring hole in his soul. It was as if a huge chunk of him had gone and died, along with Kindrith. A presence that had so pressed in on him that the lack of it was as glaring as the sudden lack of the roar of the ocean's surf. Having grown used to it, the lack of it was more painful than anything he could have imagined.
He had nearly died, that night, as well. He had wanted to ... slumped against the wall in that dark corridor, when his dragon had left him. The only thing that had stopped him from simply ... stopping ... was the pressures his two flitters had put on him to stay alive. They were still there. And they had pulled him out of his stupor just in time to avoid really losing his life on an attacker's knife.
Having to fight for his own life so soon after having lost Kindrith's was not something he had looked for. But he had lived, if only by stumbling all over the place unpredictably until someone else had taken care of the problem.
And now he had to pack up his things, what there was of them, and move out. He was no longer a rider. A whole segment of his life was now over, and his weyr was for a dragon. But though things were pulled out and partially in that direction, he hadn't gotten very far before completely losing heart again...
And wandered out onto the ledge. He'd contemplated jumping for a moment. But a ruckus from the two flitters had nipped that idea in the bud. So instead he'd merely sunk back to the floor and stared out at the sun-bathed Weyr, completely active beneath him.
He didn't seem to be in any hurry to get up and move, nor did he see what was before him, sunk within himself.
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Post by glamourie on Apr 29, 2009 20:40:07 GMT -5
Ka’rys leaned his shoulder against the frame of the door and crossed his legs at the ankles. The broken leg was healed at last and the first thing he’d done upon being allowed to move around again was hunt down the Weyrleader with an inquiry: What was being done about E’yan? Or -- Emoyan as his name would be from there on out. The bluerider was on his wing and therefore his responsibility, at least in Ka’rys’s eyes. He took the lives and happiness of his wing riders very seriously, despite fighting against being a wingleader every chance he got. A lot of people from his wing were killed: Wynmuri, R’non, and Z’hin. E’yan -- Emoyan, he mentally corrected -- wasn’t… but he may as well have been. He owed the bluerider - formerly - to see to it that he had some place to stay, something to do. They couldn’t very well ship him back north, and Ka’rys was loathe to ask him to stay at the Weyr with nothing there to offer him. That had spawned the idea -- and he’d already gotten approval from K’roi; hence hunting him down to ask. All that remained was talking to Emoyan himself… and that was going to be rough. Ka’rys didn’t like talking to dragonless people very often. They made him feel highly uncomfortable, in part because he knew if anything happened to Ciceroth… that would be the end for him. He wasn’t strong enough to go on without his bronze, and he couldn’t imagine how it felt to anyone who had lost their wings… so to speak.
He drummed his fingers on the doorframe for a brief moment. Ophelie, who was perching on his shoulder, gave his chin a gentle nudge and a flood of comfort washed over him from Ciceroth; the bronze mourned Kindrith the way he would a friend. They were from the same clutch, after all. The green flit gave a quiet chirp, then launched herself off of Ka’rys’s shoulder. She swept through the air, circling around, and then came to land at the weyrledge directly in front of Emoyan. Her wings flared and she gave a sweet chirrup, as though to draw attention to herself. Even for a green, she was recognizable: her aquatic sea-flower green hide was enough to make her very memorable. She almost possessed a blue sheen, very unique among her color. She was the only fire lizard with that look, and anyone who knew Ka’rys was bound to recognize his little companion. It wasn’t often that she separated herself from her bonded, after all.
“What will you do now?” Ka’rys asked from his spot in the doorway. Even though his leg had healed, his arm hadn’t, probably from the constant use of it. The bronze rider pushed off the doorframe with his good arm and slipped across the empty weyr before crouching down next to Emoyan. “Do you intend to pack and move into the wherfolk apartments…? Or do you have somewhere else you’re going?” Eloquence and politeness weren’t his specialty. Ka’rys wasn’t a nice individual - plain and simple. The fact that he’d been raised essentially on bloodshed and other people’s lives being lost meant he wasn’t one to bother with formalities often. It probably would’ve been better to try for comfort, but he wasn’t good at that, either. Ka’rys was much better at destroying than he was at fixing. Turns at Selenitas hadn’t changed that about him, and he doubted that he could say anything to take away the pain that Emoyan was feeling anyway. It wasn’t as if he could replace the man’s lost dragon, and he wasn’t fool enough to try.
That was why he didn’t bring Ciceroth with him. It would’ve been salt in the wounds. He’d left the bronze in Savitri’s weyr to sleep, or flirt with Hepaticath -- whatever it was he did when Ka’rys was away. Odds were, just two humans would be easier than seeing Kindrith’s clutch brother, and Ka’rys was trying to be considerate. Emphasis on ‘trying.’ He’d never been very good at minding other people’s feelings, but he was putting forth the effort.
Tilting his head, Ka’rys looked out over the mostly-barren Weyr. The infirmary was totally gone… and so were the wherhandler apartments. Rebuilding was a slow process. They’d get everything put back together, but how soon was a mystery. With a clutch on the sands, they’d have a lot of work to do… but Millieth couldn’t have picked better timing. The gold had clutched just in time to give hope to a mostly-shattered Weyr. Whether or not that hope remained was another story. The weyrling barracks were probably a source of nightmares for Aslath’s last clutch. He didn’t want to imagine how they must have felt, having to pack up their belongings to move out, but at least they didn’t have to stay there anymore. Not for long, anyway. Ka’rys squinted, bringing one hand up to rub the small strip of bandage on his face under his eye, where he’d been slashed. So much had changed…
“Do you need help packing…?”
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Post by dragon on Apr 29, 2009 22:39:31 GMT -5
A flutter of green, and then a chirp. Emoyan blinked, and looked down at the seagreen flitter sitting before him looking back. Pulled from his inner world of darkness and loneliness, he was able to focus well enough to figure out who she was. And with that realization, he had to wonder what the shells she was doing sitting in front of him. And looking like that. The question was answered soon enough by sounds he heard from behind him, coming from the weyr.
Sounds that had previously gone unnoticed entirely due to his brooding state. On the bed, Voyager and Rascal both watched first Ophelie, and then Ka'rys in silence. Emoyan turned his head slightly when Ka'rys asked him what he was going to do now, but didn't answer directly. That was something he didn't know yet. Something he hadn't even tried to think about. It meant accepting that Kindrith was gone. All he was doing was existing, so far, and doing as he was told. Which entailed getting the heck out of his weyr. Which was hard to do.
Finally, he let out a slow sigh of a breath. "I don't know what I'm going to do." Finally, he lifted his gaze to look back at his former wingleader. "I didn't expect to see you again." He said, honestly, before looking around at his half-hearted attempts to pack. "For now, I guess, I was going to go down to the weyrfolk places, yes. No where else for me to go, yet. I haven't anything..."
That statement hurt, as much as anything he had thought before... he hadn't anything. How true that was. Nothing that mattered. Before, before he could have said that he hadn't anything, but Kindrith. Which had always been enough. But now ... he didn't even have that. Well ... not entirely true. He still had Rascal and Voyager. In truth, they were why he was still around. The stubborn critters had refused to let him fade out. Had kept him from getting murdered, as well.
In truth, Emoyan appreciated Ka'rys' forthright and blunt nature. He said what he had to say, without any flowery mess to have to sort through. Which, in his current state of mind, would have been nearly impossible to accomplish. The man said just what he meant to say, and that was good.
After hearing the question about packing, Emoyan barked a short cough of laughter. He shook his head. "There's not much to pack." He turned slightly, to lean his shoulders against the wall instead of the just one. "Most of my things ... related to ... to ... Kindrith." The sentance trailed off until the dragon's name was just a whisper. But then he inhaled, and started anew. "Harness, oils, stone, riding gear, all that. I won't be needing it. Ever again. All I've got that was actually my things ... " he gestured at a few items of clothing strewn on the bed. Where also lay a skin folder of music parchments and his gitar. "That's about it." There were a few other things. But they hardly counted. And he was just as liable to let them go to the past as the rest of it. "All I have to do is bundle it up."
And then a thought occured to him... was that why Ka'rys was there? Was he taking too long to pack his stuff together and get out? Had the wingleader turned up to expedite his departure?
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Post by glamourie on May 1, 2009 23:49:41 GMT -5
Well… that was something of a predictable answer. Ka’rys wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Some kind of plan? He would have had one, if he thought he’d survive Ciceroth’s death. In the north, he’d had a plan. Of course, Ka’rys was a pessimist - more so than the average person. He went into every fight expecting to die; it always left him pleasantly surprised at the end. As it was, he knew if something happened… he wouldn’t have been strong enough. He’d have just killed himself, if he survived the shock, and that was a very big if. The initial shock would probably have killed him. In some ways, Emoyan was much stronger than him. Not that Ka’rys was able to admit that out loud. Like most bronze riders, he possessed a certain amount of pride, and that meant he wouldn’t admit his own weakness. Not for anyone, not even to comfort someone who probably desperately could use it. Selfish? Perhaps; then again, Ka’rys was a very selfish individual. He had no problem confessing to that, either. Still, it would have made him feel better if the former blue rider said he had some kind of plan. A mission, something to keep him going… maybe because he hated the idea of seeing anyone so… so empty. It made him feel empty inside, too.
Cocking his head to the side, Ka’rys turned his gaze to the weyrledge. The sounds of life filtering below were comforting to him. Diminished, though. He liked listening; one of his hobbies was to lay on his weyrledge right next to Ciceroth and just listen to the sounds of the dragons and people of the Weyr. After the attack, the sound of movement below, the chatter of talking and the sounds of the dragons -- that was an extreme level of comfort where the bronze rider was concerned. None too long ago, he wasn’t sure anyone at Selenitas would survive… and slowly, things were getting put back together. Slowly. For most people, anyway, but that thought made him flash on Savitri and… well, things were going a lot more quickly for him than he was sure he liked. No time to address that, though, and Emoyan was not the person he wanted to talk about that with anyway. They were far from friends.
“You were on my wing,” Ka’rys replied uncomfortably; he didn’t want to tell Emoyan outright that he viewed everyone on his wing as his and therefore his responsibility to look out for. Somehow he doubted that the other man would appreciate being looked at almost like an object. He didn’t mean it as an insult, but… Most would probably take it as one, and he couldn’t say as he’d blame them. “I don’t really want you to leave, but if you have to, I don’t want it to be without… without a goodbye.” How many people were alive that he’d known as long as he did Emoyan? Very few. Most of their weyrling class was either still at Fort or dead. The majority of the people he’d known before he came to Selenitas were gone. He’d never been a socialite, and never would be, but it was nice knowing - knowing he had someone there. And he didn’t anymore…
Ka’rys casually slouched down into a sitting position, his legs arched in front of him. His good arm wrapped around them as he turned to watch the former-blue rider with a look of distinct interest. It was almost alarming to meet someone with less personal belongings than him. Savitri and Kalerary saw to it that he had more than his fair share of objects. Clothes, or trinkets from his daughter. Before either of them came into his life (or back into, as the case of the seven-turn-old was), he’d only owned his blades and clothes… but the blades themselves would’ve taken a long time to pack. Ka’rys kept a small arsenal in his weyr, after all. Better safe than sorry and safe was never being caught unarmed. Which reminded him: he owed Lennae a dagger.
“That’s rather sad. Your new rooms are considerably more lavish. We’ll have to get you something to decorate them properly once you’re settled in. I’m sure I can find you a nice, big instrument of some kind at the next Gather. I’d forgotten you were a harper, to be honest,” the bronze rider admitted with a half-shrug. Nothing about his words gave away where said ‘rooms’ were though. “Need to get you a proper desk, too… How long has it been since you wrote anything?” Was Ka’rys up to something? … Maybe…
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Post by dragon on May 2, 2009 14:58:24 GMT -5
Emoyan looked at Ka'rys again, as the man mentioned that he had been on the bronzerider's wing. Well ... duh. They both knew that. Though, he had to admit to a small amount of comfort from that small peice of obvious information. Ka'rys was not here to hurry him up, kick him out. Instead, he was here ... maybe out of duty, maybe out of kindness. Emoyan didn't know. But he was touched, slightly, anyway. Which, in and of itself, was a mild shock to him. First, that he was still capable of being touched, and second ... that someone gave half a thread about him, beyond his dragon. It made him look on Ka'rys in a whole new light, if only slightly different from before. It was still different. "I was." He said, simply. Both in agreement, and also becuase he felt that past tense inflection like a knife. Was. Were.
Was that all he was going to be, from here on out? A shadow of a shadow? A flicker of the past? But then he was disturbed from that train of thought when Ka'rys sifted down to sit on the stone floor, too. And he was talking again. Not about dragons, as one might have expected from such a visit. But instead about rooms. Attention focused again, Emoyan waited and listened as the man spoke.
Why were rooms that important? And what exactly was he talking about? The last time Emoyan had checked, regular weyrfolk apartments were by far smaller and simpler than weyrs were. Maybe because they didn't have to house a dragon in them, but ... something. Yes, Ka'rys talked as if he knew exactly where Emoyan was headed.
Which, was both interesting to Emoyan as well as disturbing. He didn't know where he was going, by Faranth. How did Ka'rys?? Rooms? Plural? More lavish than a weyr? Emoyan had to suspect for a time that this was merely a stunt being pulled to get his mind off of Kindrith. And he had to admit ... for the moment ... it was working.
"I take it you know something about my future that I don't?" Emoyan remarked, simply. To the point and blunt at the same time.
Get him a new intsrument? What was wrong with his gitar? A desk? What the shells did he need a desk for? Write something? "Actually ... I was in the habit of composing new peices regularly." Thus the skin full of parchments with scribbled notes all over them. "Unless you were referring to something other than music?" He asked. This whole conversation was decidedly weird and somewhat circular. As if it was a feline circling a suspiciously easy prey ... as if it might be a trap.
Voyager hopped down off the bed, trundled over a heap of half folded clothing, and tried to sneak up behind Ophelie. The young bronze crawled across the floor with his head and shoulders down on it, rump in the air until he was in range to swat at the end of her green tail playfully.
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Post by glamourie on May 3, 2009 0:26:28 GMT -5
“Yep,” Ka’rys replied, unabashed. One hand moved down to trace small circles on the floor with the tips of his fingers, large and small; were there any dust it would doubtlessly be interesting patterns where his nails passed. He was intentionally being vague, and perhaps it was unkind, but Ka’rys… liked the emotional reaction. He liked getting a reaction. The more worked up he could make Emoyan, the better, because that meant he was still whole enough inside to feel. Provoking him into asking questions, even if it was half-agitated (and Ka’rys strongly suspected he was touching on the other man’s nerves) was better than watching him waste away in misery. The more he felt - the more drive he’d have to live. That was Ka’rys’s logic, anyway. Sometimes, he didn’t make all that much sense… but he thought he was doing a good thing. At least it was distracting the other man from what was doubtlessly an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. The kind of person Ka’rys was, he couldn’t care less if someone hated him -- especially if they came to hate him over him doing something he thought was right and good. The lines between right and wrong were blurred for him, but sometimes he hit on the right side. Sometimes.
Hmm, composing musical tunes. That, he supposed, counted as writing. Not what he’d meant though. Ka’rys shrugged one shoulder, then pushed himself up to stand with his good hand. Toward the end of the weyrledge he walked, until he was standing in the sunlight, and his gaze turned back up toward the clouds. “I did mean something other than tunes, but I suppose those would work,” he said, watching a particularly fluffy white blob roll by. It was shaped like a dolphin, how curious… “I went and talked to the Weyrleader in regards to you. I wanted to know what was intended… where you’d go.” Slowly turning around, Ka’rys rocked on the balls of his feet. “Nothing was, so I made a suggestion… a suggestion that was actually well-received…”
Little Ophelie was distracted. Her gaze was snared on Emoyan and she twittered quietly to him, trying to encourage; often, the green could be a very considerate creature. She was never loud, and when she did make noises, it was sweet and like music; she had a very pretty ‘voice.’ She was hoping that by ‘talking’ to him, maybe he would feel better…? Hers was very concerned, and it wasn’t like him to be concerned about anyone but the girl with the evil white nuisance and the hatchling-Hers. It made her nervous, hers worrying about someone else and she would have landed on him to fuss, but he wasn’t Hers, and she didn’t want to be rude. That line of thought kept her from realizing that she was being sneaked up on. She was blissfully unaware of anything amiss until something swatted her tail. That one touch made her squawk (a sound she normally did not make) and the green jolted forward before tumbling across the floor in an awkward roll.
Catching herself (at last), Ophelie hopped up into a sitting position and peered at the bronze with eyes whirling her confusion. Chittering, she bounced forward, then flared one wing out next to her, head cocked over to the side. What was he doing? She hopped around Voyager daintily, as though to examine him. Never had she been pounced by a bronze before. Her Bronze usually just laid there like a lump (that was his role, she was convinced: lay there like a lump and occasionally scold Theirs so that she didn’t have to). This one was unusual. Hmm…
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Post by dragon on May 3, 2009 14:10:16 GMT -5
Ka'rys did know something. Okay, good. But ... again, he was refusing to say. Whatever game Ka'rys was playing, he was good at it. Emoyan continued to just sit there and look at the man, even as he doodled on the floor and then got up to wander out to the weyrledge. He seemed to have one of those weird compulsions that wouldn't allow him to sit still. That, or whatever it was he was working so hard on not saying was really eating at him from the insidea out.
Wait. Ka'rys had made a suggestion? On his behalf? And it had been well received? That really had Emoyan's attention, then. What in the world was the bronzer schemeing about this time? And he also did not miss another bit ... Ka'rys, of all people, cared enough - shock!- ... about him ... - shock!- ... to go and not only think something up, but to go to the Leadership with it.
Wait. Was the earth moving? Was the sky turning green? Something was off balance, Emoyan was sure. Everything ... so far everything that Ka'rys had said since arriving ... or at least most of it ... was earth-shattering material. To come from Ka'rys' own mouth! Something really weird was going down, that was for sure. And it was doing a decent job of distracting him from the persistant ache in his chest, the huge empty spot in his soul. It was still there, was still being felt. But he wasn't dwelling in it for the moment. Instead, his mind was being forced into engaging again, to try and think through all the weird loops and twists that were suddenly being thrown at him.
His mind wasn't quite up to the usual par, either, but it was working again, nonetheless.
Finally, Emoyan made a sound. A grunt. That was it. He didn't say anything else, more or less ignoring the singing that Ophelie was doing for him. But then she squawked, and tumbled across the weyr so suddenly that it spooked Emoyan to his feet. "What the -?!" He demanded, startled.
Voyager, for his part, was pleased with the reaction he got. He was a first class stalker after all, despite what Rascal thought!! Sitting up proudly, he wrapped his own tail around his haunches. And then he caught sight of Emoyan's expression. That made him wither a little bit. But then Ophelie was back, and looking at him. Oh! Must impress the pretty green! Puffing himself up, Voyager lifted his wings a little bit to strike what he hoped was a dramaticly impressive pose. Head turned slightly to watch her as she circled.
Shaking his head, Emoyan leaned on the wall again, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Flitters." He muttered, before taking a deep breath and attempting to concentrate again. "What else besides tunes would I possibly have to write? You're the wingleader, not I." Emoyan replied, finally. He didn't bother to ask about what the idea presented and well received was. Ka'rys would get there, in his own time, eventually. The man would not have taken the time or trouble to walk all this far, to turn around and leave without saying it. Emoyan was pretty sure. And if Ka'rys could be difficult, so could Emoyan. Though he was going to have to practice some at it ... he wasn't in the habit of being difficult.
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Post by glamourie on May 4, 2009 23:52:29 GMT -5
Hmpphhhh! Was he preening for her? And after he’d startled her! Hah! Bronzes. Ophelie fluttered her wings and eyed Voyager skeptically. Behind him she stopped, sitting daintily, her tail swiveling around her legs. She folded her wings and looked at him with a deeply curious look, and she was unable to prevent the slight twitch at the very tip of her tail. Her eyes whirled inquisitively before she threw her head up defiantly, not-quite-looking at him. She was waiting for an apology, she was; he’d startled her, and he needed to make amends for that, he did. Though, she did glance quickly at him, just to make sure he’d noticed her indignant pose. The movement only lasted a second but made it clear she wasn’t really mad; she was just faking being indignant because she could… and she wanted to see if she could convince him to apologize. It really wasn’t very polite to grab her tail, after all…
The word ‘flitters’ made her cock her head again and she looked up at Emoyan inquisitively, obviously wanting to know exactly what she’d done to merit that tone. She was Ophelie; didn’t he know that she was one of the smartest fire lizards on Pern? Hers told her so daily. Hmm. Her tail twitched more, but she didn’t make a peep. She watched Emoyan with the intensity of a predator, eyes whirling; he had stolen her attention from his bronze, for better or worse, and she was most interested in what he was going to do. Hers was still very concerned for him, after all… and his bronze swatted her tail. Surely he intended to do something about that? Teach him not to swat tails? Hmmphhh.
“Letters?” Ka’rys inquired curiously. He was sure the question was rhetorical, but that didn’t stop him from answering. Truthfully, he didn’t really know; he thought Emoyan the type to write notes to himself, that sort of things. Tunes would work though - it meant that his wrist was in shape enough that writing other things wouldn’t lead to cramps and discomfort. “Being a wingleader is distinctly strange, if you want my opinion. I expect K’roi will have me moved to wing second for someone more competent later on.” The new wings hadn’t yet been decided, and Ka’rys fully expected to be demoted. He wasn’t exactly the perfect picture of friendliness, and most people didn’t seem to like him much. As far as he knew, his wing didn’t complain, but that meant nothing; they were primarily intelligent enough to let him catch them. He wasn’t usually one to test where temper was concerned. “I’m not sure I oppose; I’ve never been much good at leading, in comparison to others.” Shmee made it painfully clear he was a terrible Weyrleader… and he was betting she’d have said he was a bad wingleader, too. Ka’rys wasn’t sure he disagreed.
Brushing one finger over the end of his nose, the bronze rider shifted uncomfortably. Ciceroth’s probing thought amused him; evidently the bronze did not understand why he was taking quite so long to spit the statement out and truthfully, neither did Ka’rys. Maybe he just wanted Emoyan to ask. It would have made him feel better if he asked. As it was, he was fairly sure that the other man was curious, so he decided to divulge why he came.
“We’re out a candidate master. Someone to teach the little brats to treat the queens with respect, who the official figures of the Weyr are, etiquette - that sort of thing. W’ri isn’t really an option anymore, having proven himself unreliable.” Turning around, Ka’rys brushed a stray brown lock from his face and shrugged his shoulder. “Like I said. I don’t want you to leave. I’m not sure where you’d go - the apartments? You deserve better than those tiny, compact spaces, and you’re better than the average person here at Selenitas. You don’t deserve to be kicked to the background to be ignored. You know the score, you know what’s expected of candidates. I can’t think of someone who would be a better candidate master… and it’ll give you something to do, something to keep busy.” Awkwardly fidgetting, the bronze rider looked over at Emoyan, meeting his gaze squarely. “Like I said. I talked to the Weyrleader. The choice is ultimately up to you… but the position is yours if you want it, and the Candidate master’s rooms are much more… well, more. Can’t say as I’d blame you if you wanted to pass it up though. I doubt I’d have the patience for such a job -- but then, I don’t get along with people.”
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Post by dragon on May 8, 2009 19:14:16 GMT -5
Valiant continued to try and puff himself up for as long as he held Ophelie's attention, completely and totally ignorant of what it was she wanted from him. He was young, and quite inexperienced in these things. All he knew to do was to try and look impressive. After all ... he'd graced her with attention, yes? The whole charade was making Rascal wish he never knew the young squirt. Dropping his head to the furs, Rascal covered his head with both forepaws, wishing he were invisible. Clearly, Voyager knew nothing yet of how to garner the positive attentions of a green!
Emoyan just looked at Ka'rys for a moment like maybe he'd drunk something spiked with looney juice or something. Letters? Really! That was an absurd notion! "How many letters to back home do you write?" He asked. He doubted any transfered in or originally foreign peoples at Selenitas ever wrote home ... that was a sharding fine way to get labled a spy. Even if the intentions were nothing quite so dark. And it didn't help any at all that a vast majority of the common peoples were half illiterate. Sad to say.
The news that they were out a Candidate master was no news at all to Emoyan. But the bits that followed that were news. Ka'rys had nominated him? For Candidate Master? It was a shock, in more ways than one. However, he had to admit - after he thought about it for awhile - that it did make some sense. He was, after all, a Harper. And he had been a rider (gosh how that past tense thought hurt), so he knew the game, such as it were. Also, he no longer had the obligations to ride, meaning he would be there full time for the youngsters. Not to mention the work would definitely keep him busy... and possibly his mind more or less off his loss. Hopefully
One never knew about these things, after all... talk of dragons and impression and all the rest of Rider life might only serve a constant reminder. Or would it? He didn't know. All he knew at the moment was that his loss hurt, and he had no where specific to go. And he had thought no one really cared, either. This bit proved different. Ka'rys wanted him to stay. The Leadership agreed. They were offering him a job - something to do, a place to stay. It was ... quite interesting and quite a soothing thought, when it came right down to it.
He had come to Selenitas to find a new home ... and apparently had found it. That was a nice thing to know. This ... was home. And with that thought, he knew he couldn't leave.
Emoyan looked at Voyager, and then at Rascal, and knew that both of them would also be unhappy to leave. The Weyr was the only place the pair knew... it was thier home, too. And they were why he was still alive. He looked back at Ka'rys, meeting his former Wingleader's gaze full on. And for the first time in days, felt a bit of solid ground beneath his feet.
There was a chance at a life here, if he could find his way through his internal darkness. "To be honest, it sounds like a better plan than any I half hatched." It was strange to see Ka'rys fidgiting. Very strange. "I'm honored." He answered, truthfully. "I'll do anything I can to serve." And thus was his affirmative answer given. Youngsters, he rather felt he was good with... this might just be his ticket to sanity!
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Post by glamourie on May 9, 2009 14:11:06 GMT -5
None. But Ka’rys had no family in the north. He didn’t reply to Emoyan’s question because it went without saying. He had no one. So… naturally he didn’t write. Not that he’d done so when he did have someone (namely, Kalerary) in the north. Letters were viewed badly. He hadn’t meant writing letters to the Weyrs, though… For all he knew, the harper wrote notes to himself to remember things. There were people who did that. Ka’rys tended to keep a lot of notes. Not just on wing-related information, either; he kept notes on other things, too, like copies of records. His weyr was filled with them, in trunks, locked by keys and fashioned with hidden compartments. He liked having a place to store records of everything he could possibly use, and even Turns later, he found himself fond of making copies, too. Writing was therapeutic. Much more so than brooding on his thoughts. Then again, in comparison to the average dragon rider, Ka’rys was ridiculously productive: he didn’t sleep for long gaps, and when he was bored, he worked, rather than socialized. Always had, always would. Hence being socially awkward under most situations.
The surprise that the former blue rider offered pleased him immensely. Not because he was trying to be stunning, but because it meant that he hadn’t considered the option -- so he wouldn’t immediately disregard it. It mattered to Ka’rys that Emoyan at least consider the offer. They really didn’t have any better options, as far as he was concerned. Dragonriders didn’t make good candidate masters, in his opinion, because they had obligations to their wings as well as their dragons. That meant the amount of time they could dedicate to helping their students was severely limited. But normal weyrfolk who had never Impressed were not proper candidates for the job, either. Emoyan was a perfect fit, if he could handle being around young dragons… but hatchings were a time of life, a reminder that the world moved on. It would be hard, doubtlessly, but… maybe. Maybe.
“Ciceroth and I can help you move your belongings down to the candidate barracks, if you’d like. They’re moving them after…”
After everything. The bronze rider resisted the urge to fidget. He’d normally have offered to carry things himself, but his arm was broken and very much out of commission. Savitri had bound it to immobility on purpose, to keep him from breaking it… again. Jarring the injury continually seemed to be a habit of his. It wasn’t really intentional, but going without both arms was just… difficult on him. He had a habit of using the arm the second he could, even if it hurt, because he could. At least his leg healed, though. Going without that was maddening. He’d been on the brink of breaking someone’s face as retaliation, so furious he was… and it wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Ka’rys just couldn’t stand being immobile. He was a creature constantly in motion, constantly busy. That was just who he was.
“It’s up to you. I can’t really help you much with just one arm though.” He shrugged his shoulder and then turned to gaze at the fire lizards. “You sound so excited now. Wait until you deal with your first class. I guess I should buy you a bottle of wine now. You’ll need it. Candidates tend to be mind-bogglingly irritating.” Half of him was joking, but only half. Ka’rys was definitely not a fan of the more recent weyrling classes or candidates. He found them irresponsible… but Ka’rys was a judgmental sort. “Do you like red or white?”
Ignoring the two humans, Ophelie watched Voyager curiously. Her tail twitched. The more he puffed up, the more amused she became, until she finally turned toward the bronze. Forward, the green bounced, her wings flaring at her sides to keep her balanced. Once she was right in front of him, her eyes went mischievous shades, whirling rapidly. The color change was the only warning before she flung herself forward to pounce the bronze over, using her full weight. He was bigger than her, despite being younger, because he was a bronze (and she was a deceptively small green to start with). So she had to try but oooh, he needed to be pounced. Someone had to deflate that ego, and that someone would be her, yes it would. He had it coming, swatting her earlier. He deserved to be pounced!
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Post by dragon on May 9, 2009 17:42:45 GMT -5
Ka'rys and Ciceroth would help him move? Now that was an offer not made every day. Regardless of the situation. And more so because of who it was that was making the offer. He'd be out of his mind to turn them down ... for many reasons. Not only because it was plain handy to have that kind of help, but it would also be quite rude to turn them down. Emoyan glanced around the weyr for a moment, and then heaved a slow sigh. "That would be good, I guess ... but it means I have to hurry up with the packing..." Running his fingers through his tousled hair, he looked it over one more time before nodding. "I think I can do that."
A broken arm ... "No, don't. I'm not ... not an invalid. Just ... anyway. My limbs all still work fine." Emoyan assured the wingleader before pulling his trunk over and opening it. First he emptied it of riderly type stuff - most of it anyway. Some of the more obscure, smaller items he would hang onto. He wouldn't divest himself entirely of Kindrith. The dragon had been a big part of him, for a very long time. He would not be easily forgotten ... or entirely.
The subject of wine ... that had been something of a small hobby of Emoyan's, though he didn't often indulge it. "Either works ... though I think reds apply to more occassions than white." He admitted with a shrug while dropping a stack of regular old clothes into the trunk... he then hesitated for a moment. he wouldn't be needing his riding gear anymore. Or would he? Finally deciding that there might be instances, and that they were fitted ... he might as well hang onto them. Folding the fleece lined soft leathers, he stuffed those down into the trunk, too. Just in case. Someday he might need them...
Once the trunk was more or less emptied of such items, Emoyan started putting real effort into gathering his things together. Focusing on the task, the work, the prospects of the future. And keeping his mind deliberately off the past. Or, at least, as much so as he could. But he had a purpose again. A place to be. Something to do. Something ... important. Something bigger than him, again. And that was a good thing. Such as it was, it did not take him long to gather up his few items and pack them all into the single trunk. Even his gitar fit into the trunk. Neatly ensconced in sheafs of his written music, it was cushioned nicely from his other, harder, coarser belongings. Grabbing one end of the trunk, Emoyan dragged it toward the ledge, but not all the way out.
Ciceroth would already be a bit put out to land on a blue's ledge. There was no sense in crowding the space up farther by sticking a big trunk out there before he landed. "I think that's everything ... barring those two imps." He straightened, and gestured loosely at his flitters.
Rascal peeped out past one paw, and then covered his face again with a low groan. Quite glad that he was not related to that silly young bronze, he still wished he could comment that he wasn't associated with Voyager. Alas, that was not to be, though.
Voyager watched with interest as Ophelie moved toward him, and he did not miss the mischivious glint she got before she jumped. He was not prepared for the onslaught of little green flitter, though, however. And he squeaked in surprise and rose up on his back legs as she came at him. Which only in the end aided her in bowling him completely over onto his back in a fluttering mess of wings and legs and tail. Cheeping in surprise at the impact of landing on his back, he reached for her and grabbed a hold of her legs with his own.
His green!!
Still laying on his back, he fluttered his wings a little bit, poking at her shoulders with his snout, still hanging onto her legs and hoping she wouldn't be able to wriggle free. Crooning, he was completely tickled to have her attention... regardless of what type of attention it was.
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Post by glamourie on May 10, 2009 14:50:48 GMT -5
“You don’t actually have to hurry,” Ka’rys corrected with a half-shrug. “I don’t want you to feel rushed. It’s not like Ciss has anything better to do with his time. All he ever does is lay there like a lump and absorb sunlight.” Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. While Ciceroth was doubtlessly a lazy bronze, he did, at times, move around. He was very fond of swimming and with Hepaticath fully grown, he had to practice continuously to keep his record as biggest splash-maker. It was important to the bronze, for some reason. At times, Ka’rys thought his dragon highly immature. After all, what full grown beast felt the need to throw himself into the river with as much force as possible, thus creating an abnormally large splash? That was a weyrling behavior - but Ciceroth did it continuously, and without a hint of shame or remorse. Sometimes, Ka’rys was tempted to deny that Ciceroth was his bonded, because of such behavior. It really was unbecoming. However, while the bronze could at times be convinced to do… some things other than sleep, typically lounging about was his favored course of action. He justified the behavior as logical: who worked when they could sleep, really? And of course, the only answer was Ka’rys. He liked working. Ciceroth continually informed him he was abnormal. Very, very abnormal.
It took some doing, but Ka’rys reminded himself that the invalid comment was not a jab at him. He wasn’t an invalid, even if his arm was broken. Even if he did feel like one. Being robbed of his proper mobility led to a very grouchy wingleader most of the time and yes, Ka’rys often worked whether he was hurt or not. More than once he’d made himself sicker than he needed to be because of that habit. Most notably, he’d caused himself to be unable to stand let alone function not long after Aslath’s flight, simply by trying to work (with an ornery Weyrwoman who hated him) through a cold that rapidly became much worse. It was only out of respect for Savitri that he hadn’t tried to use that arm again… and respect in that instance translated to a lack of desire to listen to her fuss at him.
“I think it depends primarily on the individual,” he corrected absently; wine was one of the few things he spoiled himself about. “And the meal being served. Richer foods are complimented better by the bitter red wines as opposed to sweeter white.” Though, Ka’rys was an exception. White wine was for cooking, nothing more. He couldn’t stand to drink it. Typically red meat was what red wine was served with, but Ka’rys didn’t eat red meat at all. It made him throw up - always. His stomach just couldn’t process how rich the meat was. “If your preference is to red, though, I actually have a few fine bottles of Blossom red. I personally like it better than the Benden variety.” Benden’s assets were in their white wine, but most everyone at Selenitas (including Ka’rys) was uncomfortable with accepting anything from Benden, and for good reason.
His gaze followed Emoyan as he packed, oblivious to the fire lizards nearby. It looked like most of the former blue rider’s belongings already were packed. Yes, he really was quite pitiful. Ka’rys would have to buy him something to put in his new rooms. Like a plant. Yes, a plant would do well…
Ophelie gave a startled chirrup as she was pulled down by Voyager, and she squirmed awkwardly. Her tail thrashed about and she pushed him down as much as she could, as though to pin him. His position kept her from being able to squirm loose, much to her chagrin, and the green actually flipped one wing defiantly in response. He wanted to hold her, did he? Haaarumph. He was too big for her to lift, too, or she would’ve taught him a lesson for that, yes she would. As it was, her eyes whirled and she butted her head against his - gently, of course, to prevent harm - and then gave a low, amused squawk. It was half-scolding. Exactly what was he doing? Hmph! She was completely oblivious to Rascal - partially because Voyager had her full attention. She didn’t even notice Hers paying her much mind!
But as Emoyan spoke, Ka’rys’s gaze turned toward Ophelie and Voyager and he winced. “Wish she’d take a fondness to a fire lizard. She keeps getting caught by S’rei’s salamandyr.” There was a definite edge of disapproval in Ka’rys’s voice, that left no doubt to whether or not he liked that fact. S’rei wasn’t one of his favorite people and continually having to bed him was not a good thing to Ka’rys. Especially since he was aware the whole time.
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Post by dragon on May 10, 2009 18:16:09 GMT -5
Emoyan looked over to where Ka'rys was standing, and poked both hands in his pockets. "I've never had any Blossom red." He admitted. That might be interesting to try. But mostly, he was really taking the distraction for all it was worth. Focusing his mind to think about something. Anything. Anything other than Kindrith, anyway... wine was the topic? That was fine and dandy. It served well as any other topic. Though ... he'd have to be careful with the wine for awhile, to avoid getting himself hung up in the bottle. That would not be good for his physical or his mental health. For sure no. He cracked a small, crooked smile. "Right now, I think most people would prefer runner urine to Benden anything."
Voyager still didn't get the hint, merely hanging on tight and crooning still to his pretty, and trapped ... green. Would he let go? Of course not! Then she'd fly away, and he'd have to chase her! It was much easier to just hang on, yes yes. Twisting his neck around, he rubbed his head on hers, quite pleased with himself. He'd caught his first green! The silly young bronze didn't know the half of what he should.
Deciding to ignore Voyager completely, Rascal gathered himself up and flew across the room to land on the trunk near where Emoyan was. Sitting down there, he ruffled his wings and folded them up neatly, staring out into the Weyr that could be seen from there. Where was Lamb, anyway? He'd not seen her in a very long time ... mostly because his priorities had shifted from her and thier goose to his ...
Emoyan looked at the two flitters wrastling on the floor, and shook his head. "It seems all flitters have thier own peculiar quirks." He replied. He wasn't going to try and delve into the rather awkward topic of Ophelie's favorite partnering. Nor was he going to try and explain why his bronze was acting like such an idiot. That was just ... Voyager. Idiot seemed to be his other name.
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Post by glamourie on May 11, 2009 1:56:43 GMT -5
He’d never - how had he - how did one survive on wine at Selenitas without trying the Blossom variety? The majority of their wine import came from Blossom, simply because of its proximity and good relationship with the Weyr. How had someone been at Selenitas for any period of time and not indulged themselves in the fine Blossom variety? The idea made his head spin. They had wonderful red wine, but also the sweetest red fruit wine that he’d ever had, and if he had to be honest, he would have chosen the red fruit over anything else on Pern. It was just that good. The potency of the drink was also very low; he had to go through an entire bottle to become intoxicated, and Ka’rys was a very small man to begin with. Definitely a delicious beverage.
“I don’t think they’re the ones who poisoned our stores.” It was almost a half-thought, spoken without thinking. After he said it, Ka’rys immediately regretted doing so; it wasn’t exactly the most considerate time to bring that up, nor was Emoyan the right person to do so with. He doubted very seriously that anyone but S’rei would understand the implications of his words, and the logic. For some reason, only the two of them seemed to think like the attacking Weyrs -- something alarming to be sure. There were plenty of former-Northern riders, but… Ka’rys strongly suspected that he and S’rei were the ones most involved in Northern politics. At the very least, they were deeper involved than anyone else still alive. R’non would’ve understood, doubtlessly… probably N’tia too, but the rest? They were likely all raging at Benden, convinced they were the ones responsible for it all.
But Benden poisoning their stores made no sense. It was a forewarning. If they hadn’t been poisoned, Selenitas would not have been prepared for an attack at all. They wouldn’t have expected it. That would have given Benden more of an element of surprise. In a conflict, the element of surprise was desperately sought after, as it allowed for landing the first attack without any protection. Benden would’ve wanted that. C’leon wasn’t totally stupid. Which meant someone else poisoned Selenitas. An insider trying to warn against Benden? Possibly. Fort? Possible also. High Reaches…? Eh, unlikely; Ka’rys didn’t know what they were doing but he was betting it wasn’t anything dangerous to the other Weyrs. More likely they were just obsessing over themselves. Weird Weyr, that one. The most likely option seemed to be an insider, trying to warn…
Ka’rys pushed that thought from his mind forcibly and brought one hand up to rub his nose. It was his good hand. His gaze lingered on Ophelie and Voyager, and he shrugged his shoulder absently. “I lost my other green,” he admitted; he missed Liette terribly. Ophelie was much more obedient, but Liette was hard not to like. She was just… adorable.
Ophelie was considerably less cute much of the time. For example, she didn’t faint at the sight of shinies, and she most certainly was not one to become flattered by attention. Voyager being a bronze had little effect on her. She squirmed in his grasp, trying to free herself, and leaned forward to nip the end of his nose very lightly (to avoid hurting him; she wasn’t a violent fire lizard, after all). Her hope was that the slight pressure would convince the male to release her, but if that didn’t work, she was going to screech right in his face. That almost always worked! Why was he holding her anyway? Chattering her interest, Ophelie flipped her tail at him. What was he dooooing! His head rubbed on hers and she froze before fluting musically up to him. Strange, strange, he was! Hmmm…
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Post by dragon on May 12, 2009 17:21:16 GMT -5
"Maybe they did, maybe they didn't." Emoyan replied, simply, allowing the topic to drop if it so wished. He'd meant the comment as a joke, but apparently had failed horribly. Was he that out of sorts? That he no longer could tell when a joke became a jab at a sore spot? Ach, he shouldn't have said it. The poisonings - regardless of who was actually responsible - were still a sore spot. And drop on top of that the recent attack ... no such joke should have been made. At all. If ever.
Some Harper he was turning out to be, in the wake of his dragon's death. Emoyan just hoped that he somehow would manage to get his head back together again, and before it was too late!
Emoyan looked up at the comment on having lost a flitter. "Oh. I didn't know that. How is Ophelie coping?" He asked. Something he was interested in ... and hopefully wouldn't touch on Ka'rys' own sore spot of having lost. "Voy! Let her go, you idjit." Emoyan instructed, sternly, when the bronze seemed to be blatantly ignoring - or ignorantly completely missing - the signs.
Voyager warbled, cooed, and let go of Ophelie's legs, flaring his wings out to hold him still and watching to see what she'd do next. Interesting little green! Rolling over onto his belly, he sat up. For a moment he looked around, at Emoyan, chirped at question; at Ka'rys and a slight tilt of the head; at Rascal - promptly ignored; and then back at Ophelie again. Always center of attention! Chirping again, he got to all four feet and stood there, still, waiting to see what she'd do.
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