Chitchat (Tag S'van)

[Tashe]

What am I doing? Casting his gaze upward, E'rro sighed as he stared at the top of the steps. He hesitated a moment before beginning his assent, for some reason he felt a little nervous. Back when he was at Benden, he had shared a weyrledge with S'van, they had been friends despite their difference in age. E'rro had actually looked up to him, although he didn't often take the older man's advise until he was older and more injury ridden. He probably doesn't even want to speak with me. Why should he? Running his hand against the wall, the Brownrider continued to climb, taking each step as slow as he could without seeming like he was trying to stall. Maybe he was just nervous that S'van would hate him, but then again... he had never felt like that before. It was a different change in pace from the paled emotions he felt almost constantly, it felt weird and he didn't like it. He hadn't made any good friends since being at selenitas, and ones he had made at Benden made him feel anxious now. They had been enemies for over a year after all.

He reached the First Level landing, picking up his feet (although he felt like dragging them) the young Rider paced down the hallway. He had heard from a small, little Blue Mandyr that the Bluerider lived in the fifteenth Weyr on this level. Currently he was the only one in the walkway, so his boots made a soft clicking noise as they fell on the rock beneath him. Closing his eyes, E'rro relaxed the muscles of his face, returning them to the place they normally lay. He had to do something about this odd anxiety. So what if the Bluerider didn't find him as a friend anymore? He didn't care if he didn't. "Yeah..." Crossing his arms as he came to a stop outside of S'van's personal weyr, he briefly debated retreating back into the shadows and pursuing a conversation at another time. Clearing his throat, E'rro stepped closer to the entrance. "S'van. You there?" He was slightly surprised how husky his voice had been, he hadn't meant to sound so... gruff?

[nightingale]

The sound of his name on another person’s tongue drew the bluerider’s attention immediately. He didn’t flinch, likely because that reflex had been beaten out of him long ago. What he did was lift his head sharply from the repairs he had been making to Rifashth’s riding straps. He fixed E’rro with a hard and emotionless stare he had spent years perfecting, but the practiced expression flickered uncertainly as he suddenly recognized the boy. “Hey.” He said after a short moment, scrambling to re-wire his thought process from defensive to polite.

Lifting his head from his couch, Rifashth crooned a soft greeting to the boy. He’s grown.The blue commented, glancing toward his weyrledge for any sign that Ismaroth might be landing. The rider agreed wordlessly, recognizing the extra pounds and inches he seemed to have put on since they had flown together at Benden. It had been hard for him to notice the last time they had spoken –high fevers tended to skew one’s perception- but the boy just had a far healthier look about him now than he used to. It was a change that S’van was rather pleased to notice.

He set down the leather he had been reinforcing and rose to his feet, turning to face the young brownrider. “Do you need help?” It was a question asked out of habit more than anything else. Living at Benden, he had gotten used to the idea that having things often went horribly wrong. During the early years –back when E’rro tended to get himself beaten or whipped on an almost daily basis for various infractions on Weyr policy- S’van had taken to crossing their weyrledge at night to ask the same question. He knew that things were probably different around here. After all, he hadn’t received anything worse than the occasional dirty look or murmured insult since arriving, but breaking up behavioral patterns was easier in theory than it was in practice.

[Tashe]

"Hey." Looking past S'van to Rifashth, the Brownrider uncrossed his arms and raised his hand in greeting. After a moment he returned his gaze back onto the older man. It was weird though, in the time they had been apart he had grown taller than the Bluerider, so he had to look down slightly or stare at the other man's forehead. Crossing his hands behind his back, E'rro rocked back on his heels slightly. "Well, I was actually coming to see... if you needed anything. But it looks like, you've settled in already." He felt his Dragon stir from his slumber, and as on cue, his voice entered his mind. /Ermine?/ I'm talking to S'van. /Oh really? I will come then!/ Wait, huh? He knew it was too late to call Ismaroth back, the Brown had decided and he was going to come. Having literally grown up next to the Rifashth, the younger Dragon was genuinely more open around the Blue.

"So, um... How are the arms?" He made a small gesture toward S'van, remembering well the day they had been 'reunited' of a sorts. He and Jermayan had patched the pair up, and the thought of that reminded him of the Blue's condition as well. "And how is Rifashth? Are... his sutures taking well?" He felt so awkward, he probably looked like it too.

---

Leaping off of his ledge, Ismaroth furled his wings and caught an updraft, gliding on it for a moment before pumping his wings. He rolled in the air as he rose to the higher levels, looking for a familiar Dragon, the Brown slid his gaze onto every Blue that passed beneath him. It took only a moment for him to locate Rifashth, he circled once before angling downward so that he could land. Spreading his wings, he slowed himself until he could drop down onto his back legs, landing near the edge of the Blue's double ledge. /Rifashth! Do you mind if I lay here? Ermine told me that he was here talking to Yours, so I came to talk with you./ Ruffling his wings happily, Ismaroth let his tail hang over the edge of the rock, twitching it much like a canine would.

[nightingale]

Rifashth rumbled welcomingly, inclining his head ever so slightly in E’rro’s direction. The small blue slowly rose to his feet. While it would be some time before his injuries healed, there was little doubt that he would fly again. He was already well on his way toward making a full recovery, and his attitude in particular seemed to be brightening as the days went by. Stretching his neck and tail languidly, the dragon gave his wings a gentle flap and moved out onto the weyrledge to await Ismaroth.

His rider bobbed his head in another quick nod, as there were few other reactions so hard wired into his consciousness. “Yeah, I’m doing alright.” He offered, lifting one shoulder in a sort of half-shrug. “It still feels weird though…just being here. It’s like I missed something important and somebody is going to whip me for it later.” For S’van, everything about Selenitas Weyr just seemed too good to be true. The fact that nobody had tried to kill him yet was suspiciously fortunate enough. That the weyrfolk also seemed egger to feed, clothe and employ him was another set of surprises altogether. He had always been a firm believer in a proverb that stated if something seems too good to be true, it probably was. Right now he was perpetually on guard, waiting for the catch that would inevitably show up and remind him why he had once called the weyrfolk enemies.

Tell him that I’m feeling much better, and thank him for asking. Rifashth prodded his rider upon recognizing that he had been brought into the conversation. He sang a welcome to Ismaroth as the brown swooped in to perch on the edge of his weyrledge. You know that you’re always welcome on my ledge Ismaroth. The blue assured him, advancing a few paces so that the sun could spill across his powder blue hide. Laimieth isn’t usually here during the day, so there’s plenty of room for the two of us. How are you faring old friend? You look a lot bigger than I remember you.

“The arms are good –still functioning anyway.” S’van answered as something that might have been a very small, very hesitant smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Fash says he’s feeling a lot better, thanks for asking.” He eyed the young brownrider strangely for a moment, then made a wide gesture with his head toward a small dining setup on the far side of his living quarters. “You wanna come inside and stop acting like some kind of beaten kitchen drudge? I’m not gonna put a knife in you.” This time it was a smile that touched his lips –small and obscure, but definitely present. He started toward the nearest chair.

[Tashe]

"I know the feeling." When he had first arrived at Selenitas he had found their reactions toward him confusing and unexpected. They had been so... willing to accept him, that it had made him almost afraid that they'd suddenly turn on him. Of course, Ismaroth trusted the people far more than he had. "Its a feeling that'll stay for a while. These people are quick to forgive as long as you stand with them and show that you're willing to work." He shook his head slightly, suddenly missing the locks of hair he had recently cut back from his face.

/I am fine, thanks! And yourself?/ He stilled his dancing wings with a happy rumble. /I should hope so! We are not Weyrlings anymore. Even Mine has grown much taller./ Shifting so he could lay down, Ismaroth looked eagerly at Rifashth. /We are Wingseconds now! Though, our wing is an odd comprise of ex-Benden and Fort riders. Even our wingleader is an ex-Benden Rider. Perhaps you know of Ciceroth?/

"Thats good... and he's welcome." There was a moment of silence that settled between the two before the Bluerider spoke up again. Beaten kitchen Drudge? He probably looked like it, the way he was kinda slumped forward with his hands in his pockets. He made a noise that sounded like a short laugh, a small smile of his own made an appearance on his face. So maybe S'van didn't hate him after all. "Sure, why not..." He stepped forward, following the Bluerider into his Weyr.