Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
|
Post by Requiem on Sept 28, 2009 1:02:19 GMT -5
M'ta hissed openly when R'wign jerked away from him, the smaller brownrider stepping back, eyes narrowed. He didn't say anything as the healer stumbled away. Fine. Just...fine. He'd been controlled about what he said, right then, and he didn't understand the response. Yes, it was clear he'd been upset, but everything spoken since R'wign made that first claim hadn't been accusation. It had been M'ta explaining to R'wign as best he could - without the distance of time to think about it - why he was so bothered and why it was hard for him to accept what R'wign was saying. That the healer somehow found this offensive...enough to jerk away like that...only seemed to reinforce it. His dark eyes never left the man.
He gave the healer the courtesy of allowing him to talk, the brownrider visibly flinching before his face lost all expression again but for the smoldering of his eyes. Didn't shove his insecurities at him? So what if M'ta believed he was a monster? Had he ever, since they'd started hanging around one another, had he ever once attributed that to R'wign? No. Because he hadn't felt that way. R'wign was...he was one of the only people who didn't seem afraid of him, no matter what he did. And it wasn't that he was too stupid or naive not to notice, either. If he thought that M'ta didn't notice how he avoided certain topics with him, he was a fool. No one treated M'ta like R'wign did. The insecurity may well have been unreasonable in this situation - though he still didn't believe it so - but something had definitely prompted it. That the healer could belittle that only stoked the building anger.
He felt...betrayed...on some level. He knew it wasn't reasonable for the most part, but events had conspired to keep him here, and he couldn't shake it. Wasn't sure he wanted to. Right now he was just angry.
M'ta stalked over toward him, as R'wign looked away - noting the retreating figures and grateful for that. He wouldn't have to censor himself. The brownrider crouched in the sand in front of R'wign. "Stop it. You're a sharding coward. If you've got something to say, out with it, and don't bury it back down, cause I'd much rather know what you really think." The expression had regained fluidity, but it was no less confusing for all that. The anger was there, but so was confusion, and there was an odd tick in his jaw. "I didn't think you judged me, R'wign...and I can't blame you for hitting a nerve you didn't know was there, but until that point I never did think you judged me, and that's why I responded like I did. It blindsided me."
He wanted to be angry. Part of him was. But it wasn't coming out quite as he expected. It sounded more like...regret. "You're a fool. You know that? An utter fool. What would give you the impression that I'd like you less because you're not like Ka'rys, or Kalierre, or me? Ka'rys disgusts me. I didn't realize until today how much. Even if the ends are good ones, he's capable of doing anything to achieve them. Manipulative bastard. He should have let me leave, because I shouldn't be allowed to talk when angry. Kalierre's a bitch. I have no desire to be around her. And if you think I like myself..." He laughed, then, the sound bitter. "R'wign, I like you because you're not like us. I'm not capable of playing the little 'I'm a fool, watch me and laugh at my antics' games like you are. I couldn't live with someone I don't like. All I'm good at is shutting down...other than that I'm all too readable. I know this and accept it."
The crouch turned into a kneel. "I would tell you anything you asked of me, R'wign, because I trusted you. And I trusted - trust - you because you don't ask. You're not stupid enough not to realize, and I'm not blind enough not to notice when you intercede for me, or avoid the topic." He sighed, then, rubbing at his nose. "But you're never open. I like to think I can read you, but I'm not confident in it. If I didn't care it wouldn't matter what you thought of me, R'wign. It just wouldn't. Shouldn't have gotten upset...but I won't apologize for it. I won't apologize for what I feel."
He leaned forward, wrapping his arm around R'wign's knees. "I want you to stay you. I do. I don't want you to become like me, or Ka'rys, or Kalierre, or any of them...of us. But I also don't want to lose you. Am I allowed to be seflish, too? I don't want someone to take you from me. You want this, don't you? You want to be strong enough...that people don't have to do stupid, idiotic things to protect you...don't have to sacrifice themselves for you? Maybe strong enough that you don't have to watch them taken from you? I've been there. Too often. You're so stupid sometimes, R'wign. I just want to be able to come here with you a turn from now, and not be standing here on the beach remembering the friend I used to have."
He could probably claim later that it was impulsive, but that wasn't entirely true. It was ridiculous, really. A jest. And it was more convenient for him to pretend that fear had seized him, turned his stomach. It was fear, but a different sort. Because...what he'd felt...hadn't been terror. And that, in and of itself, terrified him. He leaned forward, his hand coming up to R'wign's cheek, and kissed the healer gently, for longer than could ever be mistaken as a joke. And, really, a joke had no place in this setting anyway.
M'ta pulled back, rolled to the side and tucked his legs under him, not looking at R'wign. The heat was high in his face, but he attempted to ignore it. "Don't...don't think I want anything from you, R'wign. Just...I just want you to still be here, okay? I don't want to have to bury anyone else." That I love. But he knew better than to voice that...it scared him too much to, anyway.
|
|
|
Post by glamourie on Sept 28, 2009 6:44:07 GMT -5
Did he have something to say? Something specific? Not really – R’wign just… wasn’t good at expressing himself and that was why he was keeping himself curled into a little ball. Eventually, emotions burst inside and he exploded… usually in private but things did bubble up to the surface from time to time; he wasn’t that great at keeping everything under wraps for extended periods of time and – and he was being kissed, which effectively made all of his rampant thoughts and mental responses to M’ta’s words come to a skidding, screeching halt. His shoulders tensed and he… froze. Probably the worst kiss that he ever participated in, that one was, simply because he froze. Not fear, though; he was shocked into complete and utter silence and even after M’ta moved away, it took him several seconds before his brain kicked back into functional-mode… and even then he was having trouble actually thinking at normal mental capacity because his thought process revolved around a handful of key factors, most of which could be summed up in the single query that kept popping back up into his mind like a broken record:
Did he just kiss me?
Obviously saying that out loud would be stupid, so he responded in a way that was very typical R’wign – with a wildly inappropriate joke to try and break the ice. “I’ve always preferred the idea of my body being burned if it’s all the same to you.” He actually did, though much of that stemmed from healer anxiety; he knew exactly how many diseases that bodies carried and it was his dire ambition to prevent them from being spread by his corpse if it could be helped. Ridiculous? A little. His head slowly turned back toward M’ta and R’wign managed to bury most of his anxiety with a slight frown. “You’re right. I am a coward. I’m not going to deny that. But I am trying. I’m just… a slow learner when it’s things out of my element.” That probably sounded a little bit too much like an excuse, but he defensively added, “I’m not giving up. I’m not… not trying. I’m just – most things come easily to me. Everything I’ve tried at came easily. Then suddenly I try this and it doesn’t come easily and it’s hard to go from the opposite of what I normally do. I’m not… trying to be difficult. I’m just having a hard time…”
Not open…? Well, he wasn’t, not even with Checkoth. R’wign just wasn’t the kind of person who felt right talking about his emotions. His head bowed and he crinkled his nose slightly.
How did he feel? Truthfully, awkward. Very,very, very awkward. M’ta was his best friend, and… he didn’t know how to react to… being kissed. By a man. More over, it bothered him that the main reason for him being perturbed was M’ta’s gender; he always thought himself above that level of pettiness. He didn’t mind Tr’esn, did he? But Tr’esn was flight-wrought, not anything else and it wasn’t as though he’d ever have acted on that outside of feelings caused by Checkoth and he was being stupid – stupid – but he thought M’ta liked Meira. The teasing was for a reason. So many conflicting messages. He wanted to ask but asking would have been beyond awkward. He had the distinct feeling that M’ta would resent being put on the spot and… maybe he was being stupid and responding weirdly? So hard to say. He settled for looking down.
“I don’t – It’s not personal, I just…” It sounded weird, trying to explain why he didn’t talk about things, but… “I don’t like to burden people with my problems or feelings, so… I don’t. I’m better at listening to other people.” His hands settled on the top of his knees, and he stared off into space for a moment before giving M’ta an awkward look. “I wanted to learn to fight because the man who took my eye took Religna’s eyes. He killed her. That’s… why I wasn’t able to fight more; I was in shock. I don’t plan to die, M’ta, and I do want to learn… but it’s very difficult for me to change who I am, and what I’ve been all my life. I’m trying and I’ll get it, but please try to be patient with me… okay?”
He didn’t really know what to say to Ka’rys disgusting M’ta. He was fairly sure the bronzerider would find that hilarious, but… the assessment wasn’t inaccurate. “Ka’rys saved my life when I was little,” he said absently; part of him felt obligated to defend Rys, even though he was sure that he wouldn’t care. “When I was nine, I ran away from home. He found me in Ruatha, dehydrated and starving, and took me to Healer Hall. He’s not a bad guy – but you’re right, he is very cutthroat. He’s not ashamed of it either. That’s… probably why I’m not making much progress; he’s always lecturing me, because I’m not as… well, as much as him…”
|
|
Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
|
Post by Requiem on Sept 29, 2009 8:19:03 GMT -5
His legs crossed at the ankles, his knees came up, arms draping bonelessly over them as he stared outward into the silence. Probably shouldn't have done that. The words would have been enough, wouldn't they? R'wign's stiffening still lingered at the back of his mind, and he couldn't help but wonder how long he'd have to move out - who might be willing to put him up for a night or two before he could make the arrangements. Strangely, Fiona was the one to come to mind, and her...mostly because he wouldn't really have to explain with her. She might ask, but she was easily put off. Of course, that carried its own set of distasteful problems, and he really just shouldn't have kissed R'wign, even if the healer was likely to disbelieve him otherwise and argue until they both were ready to throttle one another. (As if they hadn't reached that point already.)
When the man spoke, it came as something of a surprise, partially because M'ta was getting used to the silence. He snorted softly out his nose. Sharding idiot. His head fell forward onto the arms now crossed over his knees, and he glanced sidelong at R'wign. At least the healer still looked awkward enough that it wasn't quite like being brushed off entirely. Still, he had a tremendous desire, despite the relief needling at him, to just get up and walk off. Was that really R'wign's only response?
Listening to what the healer said, he tapped his fingers along his leg, a play of nervous energy that was unusual for him. Well, of course everything came easy to R'wign. He almost smirked. The man seemed a natural at most everything. Definitely smarter than M'ta was, which was - unusual - but the kid (and yes, the whining tended to make him think of his weyrmate as a child) really just didn't get some things. "People would be less likely to think you're not trying, R'wign, if you didn't argue about it. Sounds like you're making excuses," he commented neutrally. But he didn't want to fight about this. It was just the healer being the healer...had to argue with everything. "Probably our fault to try to reason with you. Still not convinced most of your problem isn't in the head."
And he really didn't know how to fix that other than give R'wign ways to look at it differently. If only the sharding healer wouldn't argue with all of them.
M'ta listened in silence, watching R'wign, a mild frown on his face. He...didn't really know much about Religna, could hardly recall spending much time around her at all. Another one of the candidates who came and Impressed at their first Hatching. It hadn't even occurred to him until now how similar the names were...and...oh. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, his frown the frown that hid more than it revealed. Mild. Knew what that type of shock felt like firsthand, didn't he? Didn't want to think about that, though. The familiar feeling of being covered and unable to get it off, all the blood, gripped at him, and he resisted the urge to go scrub himself raw.
The topic of Ka'rys, at least, he had no trouble talking about. No trouble at all. "Don't think he's a bad man, R'wign," the brownrider responded quietly. Though it was interesting - even a little surprising - to hear of the connection between the two. He'd wondered how that had happened, after all. Didn't seem a likely pairing. No, M'ta didn't think Ka'rys was bad per se. "Just would rather not be in the way of any goal he has in mind," the teenager added wryly, a trace of amusement behind the words...even though they were pretty serious. He was convinced that if he ever stood in the way of something Ka'rys wanted or felt needed done, the bronzerider wouldn't hesitate. Ends justify the means to the nth degree.
Not that M'ta was so very much different. He'd just be likely to feel worse about it while doing the same things. Heh. Maybe he should be more like Ka'rys.
The brownrider stood, brushing the dirt from his trousers, before closing the distance and reaching down to grip R'wign's hand solidly, his other going to the healer's elbow. "Come on, then. Get up." The younger man rolled a shoulder in an awkward shrug. "Submission sometimes is your best option. If you'd fought..." He didn't finish it. "But I can try to help you so that you won't be in that situation again."
Yes. They could just ignore...everything. It would be comfortable. And at least now R'wign wasn't arguing with him about whether or not M'ta was using him...wasn't accusing the younger man of all manner of things. Better, right? "How do you want to learn, R'wign?" Probably should have asked that a long time ago. There had to be something he'd tried with Ka'rys that worked better than the other ways, right?
|
|
|
Post by glamourie on Oct 2, 2009 7:05:24 GMT -5
Not making any progress tended to make people think he wasn’t trying, arguing or not. He argued because he was insecure – at least, most of the time. Sometimes he argued because he didn’t like losing, but… when it came to fighting, he was out of his element. He really was the type to run away from a fight given the opportunity. He wanted to learn. He wanted to very badly. However, he wasn’t getting anywhere and… he knew how it looked. He knew how easy it would be to believe that he wasn’t trying, and… part of R’wign felt as though such an accusation would not be without foundation. He wanted so badly to believe that M’ta thought he was doing his best – he needed others to know that he really was, even if for all appearances it looked as though he was busy not-trying. He wouldn’t have asked Ka’rys to teach him if he wasn’t prepared to do his best. R’wign didn’t like wasting other people’s time. His failure was making him feel insecure and… and in his insecurity, he was rambling and arguing to try and prove how hard he really was trying. Did M’ta have even the foggiest idea what it felt like to try so hard and make no progress? He wasn’t arrogant enough to assume that he didn’t, but it was frustrating.
And he wanted very badly to ask what that kiss was about. He wasn’t stupid – he just… mentally rejected the initial mental explanation. Because it made no sense. M’ta couldn’t – couldn’t possibly – he liked Meira. R’wign was sure that he did. Or… he was… it made sense, didn’t it? He seemed to fuss more about her, anyway. R’wign had always thought that it was clear who M’ta preferred of the two of them and most of the time he didn’t mind – he wasn’t prone to jealousy. But then – what – it confused him. Yes, confused. He didn’t quite know how he was supposed to feel. Part of him wondered if… maybe it was meant to be reassuring? Meant to be comforting? Certainly had the opposite effect (he was baffled, and he hated being confused) but it would be more typical of M’ta to do something for those reasons and – and he didn’t know. He just didn’t know.
Had he ever kissed a male before? Did he ever kiss Tr’esn?
Shaking those thoughts from his mind (literally), R’wign uncurled and scratched the bridge of his nose. His head tilted upward and he cocked it to the side before letting M’ta help him up. “Ka’rys wouldn’t hurt you unless you did something to really, truly deserve it – even you’d agree with him on what would qualify for that,” he said as he dusted himself off. “You’d probably have to hurt his family to get him to actually do something to you. He’s a jerk, and he’s capable of a lot of things, but you’re important to a few people he actually cares about, regardless of what he’d claim. Moreover, he’s claimed you. You’re on his wing for a reason and Ka’rys doesn’t put people on his wing unless he’s willing to die for them… and he actually has a choice on who is on his wing, until Millieth rises again. So he did it intentionally. He’s… also softened since coming here. A lot.”
When he first met Ka’rys, he was pretty sure the man was more than capable of killing someone and not breaking a sweat, or even batting an eye. After the Siege, it was true that Ka’rys fussed more over Kalerary and Savitri, but it was obvious he was shaken by the amount of death. Yes, part of him had changed, even if Ka’rys himself didn’t acknowledge it; R’wign was smart enough to know exactly what the signs were. He was glad for the change.
Once he was done dusting himself off, he glanced over at M’ta. “If I’d fought, they would have turned to the one who wasn’t fighting, and the one who wasn’t fighting was Tr’esn. He wouldn’t have been able to handle it; he was messed up enough watching me bleed. Better that it’s my blood than his.” He actually meant that – an eye he could live without but a male greenrider in the hands of Benden riders? That just screamed mistake waiting to happen. “I still feel pathetic for it – and - …” How did he want to learn to fight? He… didn’t know. “I just want to learn to defend myself. Not… attack others, but just… defend. I’m not really good at being aggressive. I’m never going to be. And you stepped out of the circle without me licking you or anything so I think that should count!"
|
|
Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
|
Post by Requiem on Oct 4, 2009 17:42:09 GMT -5
Did they really have to talk about Ka'rys. He was M'ta's wingleader and the brownrider would rather keep it at that, nice and simple. Follow orders, defend him if needed, support him otherwise. And beyond that just return to the weyr, his weyrmate, the baby, Meira, the dragons...and not have to think about the ex-Fort bronzerider. R'wign was probably right, given the healer clearly knew the man much better than M'ta did, but the shorter man still got chills around him. He didn't like being uncomfortable, and he didn't see how he'd ever be anything but with the bronzerider. He wasn't really that rational, even compared to R'wign. Most of what he reacted to were feelings - intuition, some would call it. And he didn't like how Ka'rys made him feel. But how to tell something like that to R'wign? It sounded ridiculous. (This was why he didn't talk about feelings. It always sounded stupid to him.)
"You're likely right," he responded. There. That should get them off that subject.
He glanced up at the taller brownrider, frowning mildly. It was...an uncomfortable topic for him. He could draw too many parallels, and he didn't like that much. R'wign seemed to feel the need to explain it, and saying he did understand might stop the explanations - but it might also raise questions he'd rather not answer. So he just let R'wign exhaust that subject, too. He hated, really, that he hadn't been there, because it was R'wign and Tr'esn...he'd gotten Fiona out, but there was no reason he couldn't have gone back for them. He knew where they'd been. Too late, of course, and the what-ifs were pointless. No one knew what might have happened. Could have been much worse, right? Possibly.
If M'ta was a little slow to release R'wign's arm, it probably wasn't noticeable. The healer seemed pretty shaky anyway. He was thinking about the brownrider's problems when R'wign's words registered, the shorter man leveling a pointed glare at him. "Do you really want to go there?" he growled, with a distinct lack of menace. "Don't think that pissing me off is going to get you out of changing diapers. Even you have to see how illogical that is."
Out of habit, one of his dirks cleared the sheath, twirling idly through his fingers as he frowned at the trees. "I'm not a defensive fighter. I don't know that I can teach you that. Only people who have really been trained well can take on someone else of similar skill, neutralize them, and not hurt them." And he certainly wasn't well-trained. Pretty much everything he knew was self-taught and learned the hard way. Very few people he'd ever drawn blade against actually surv-
No. Not quite true. He'd scared people off before. M'ta suddenly smiled. Now that wasn't a terrible idea, and R'wign shouldn't have a problem with it, when learning would only make it more and more possible to defend himself without hurting anyone. Unless he needed to, in which case he'd be capable of it, which satisfied M'ta well enough. "You could always learn to throw. I have plenty of extra daggers, and if you get your aim good enough you may never have to hurt or kill anyone at all. Scare them off, pin them, something." He cocked his head to one side. R'wign would agree to that, right?
|
|
|
Post by glamourie on Oct 8, 2009 15:24:18 GMT -5
“Yes. I do.” R’wign offered M’ta a wide, dorky smile that very clearly said he wasn’t remotely embarrassed about bringing up the ‘bet.’ “You never said I couldn’t piss you off, you just said I couldn’t lick you. You should always account for my foot-in-mouth syndrome.” His smile wavered slightly, even if his tone was distinctly amused. However, as the smile faded, he looked down to the sand again, clearly sheepish. His fingers laced together, anxiously curling and uncurling – it was R’wign’s expression of nervousness. “For what it’s worth… I really didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.” There. See? He apologized without launching into a long tirade. It was extremely tempting to try and explain, defend himself somehow, but he didn’t. He just… swallowed it; he had some self-control after all… and he owed it to M’ta to give him a straight apology. No explanations. No justifications. Just a straight up apology, with no attached strings. M’ta was his best friend – he didn’t mean to hurt him. He also didn’t mean to blow up at him, even if he did have some things on his mind that he wasn’t addressing (namely that he didn’t feel like very many people wanted him around but – that was neither here nor there). R’wign rarely apologized – but when he did, he usually meant it.
His face took on a distinctly confused expression as M’ta started twirling the blade, and he visibly deflated at the idea of M’ta not being able to teach him defensive fighting. Ka’rys hadn’t been too good at that either and in retrospect, he believed much of Rys’s problem stemmed from being too quick to do massive amounts of damage; he was very… efficient. He’d complained endlessly that R’wign didn’t want to hurt people. His excuse was “People will not care what you want to do; if they’re determined to kill you, whether you fight or not is going to make no difference for them. You have to be willing to kill or be killed.” R’wign couldn’t do that. He just wasn’t able to. Hearing that M’ta couldn’t teach him what he so badly wanted to know was very disheartening and R’wign visibly deflated, head bowing. He didn’t want to be incompetent forever… but he wasn’t willing to be as hard and cruel as Ka’rys could be, either. He just wasn’t.
Wait, what? He could always learn to throw…? R’wign glanced over at M’ta curiously. Throwing… knives? It had some potential, the way he worded it. If he could learn to throw well enough to scare people he wouldn’t have to actually hurt them – but how many people got scared by blades? He didn’t know; he would have been but R’wign was pretty easy to scare, all things considered. Maybe the pinning had some virtue. Regardless, it was the best suggestion thus far and he wasn’t willing to knock a good idea just because he was squeamish. If it kept him from falling on his backside quite so often, he’d try it out. Worse come to worse, he’d suck and M’ta would join Ka’rys’s “Hire a bodyguard” bandwagon. That was sort of a ‘worst case scenario’ option. He needed to stop being quite so pessimistic…
“How hard is it?” he asked, genuinely curious. His head tilted to the side and he looked at M’ta, one hand coming up to rub his bloody nose. “It’s not – I’m not going to accidentally cut off fingers or anything am I?”
Because if anyone could pull off cutting fingers off with throwing blades, it was R’wign. He wasn’t naturally clumsy but when it came to blades and other things that related to fighting, he was pretty close to incompetent. The thought made him bring one hand down to his stomach where the feline claws left jagged pink-red lines that curled over his hip and up his back to his spine. They were quite ugly to look at when fresh, but going on five turns old, the scars were pale enough to be ‘average.’ He remembered that ‘fight’ very well. He’d been rolling around and ended up smashing a numbweed jar on one of the creature’s heads. Incompetent, yes, he was… and he was glad that he didn’t end up in that situation very often.
“You won’t get too mad at me if I’m really bad to start with? I’m not used to throwing things around, and well – my aim is probably close to terrible.” There was an obvious reason as to why: he had no left eye. “How do you even practice that…?”
|
|
Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
|
Post by Requiem on Oct 9, 2009 10:40:52 GMT -5
M'ta visibly twitched. Clearly, the incident was too fresh for him to have much of a sense of humor about it presently. Nevertheless, he gamely responded - even if the tone was rather droll, "I'll keep that in mind next time." Actually, he was very rarely pissed off with R'wign. Irritation wasn't particularly uncommon, but anger was, so the healer's words really didn't carry much weight. Of course he wouldn't have thought to add that. R'wign couldn't have deliberately been trying to anger him, because M'ta was fairly sure the healer didn't know what actually did. The shorter brownrider had a high tolerance when it came to his friends the majority of the time, at least as far as anger went. Annoyance was another matter. And annoyance with R'wign usually just encouraged the healer, so he'd gotten quite good at masking it unless he didn't mind R'wign keeping up the needling.
Which most of the time he didn't. Stretching his mental muscles against someone better at such banter than he was had its ups. Namely, he could talk circles around most people now because of it. Thank you R'wign for the lessons in BSing.
M'ta's wry musings came to an abrupt halt at R'wign's apology. He regarded the healer in what was clearly veiled astonishment, the expression only growing more amusing as the smaller dragonrider realized that....no explanation or excuse would be following it. He got the queer impulse to feel the healer's head, check for fever. A simple, stark apology from R'wign? That was unusual. Part of him suggested that maybe the kiss was involved in there somehow, that it had shaken the other man enough to bring about this strange change. The apology probably also was R'wign's oblique way of saying that the feelings weren't returned. That was fine by M'ta, though. More comfortable even. (And he'd already got that impression when the kiss was ignored entirely after R'wign went completely stiff on him. Kind of obvious. No apology necessary.)
Sparing R'wign any wisecracks that might have come to mind - and there were a few given the novelty of the situation - M'ta merely nodded in acceptance.
The question of throwing knives was a much more familiar, comfortable topic for M'ta. He snickered at R'wign, just couldn't help it. "Cut off fingers? Not unless you try really hard to do so. Throwing knives really don't have that sort of...leverage." He'd have to saw at his hand to achieve that. "Anyway, I just cut up my palms, mostly, when I first started." He might appear pretty graceful and natural about things now, but he definitely wasn't as a young child. "It works better to grasp the blade with your fingers, rather than the hilt, and until you get used to it..." This was followed by a mild shrug.
He eyed R'wign for a moment. "Actually, everyone's terrible when they start. Unless you have perfect eye sight...most people have a dominant eye and it throws off their aim. After you throw enough you learn to mentally compensate." He drew five blades in swift order, four between the fingers of his right hand as he tossed the one in his left idly. "If you'd started earlier, you'd have to relearn, but in this case you're on the same footing as any beginner. Learning to compensate for a dominant eye."
The knife was caught by the blade as it came down again, M'ta whirling and placing the blade in the center of a knot in a tree some good distance away. It was really too far to even see it particularly well, considering the treeline was up the beach a ways. The other four were juggled into that hand, circling the first blade in near perfection. He cocked a brow at R'wign. "It's mostly muscle memory, not actual aiming. As long as I know the direction..." He shrugged.
"Throw enough on your free time, and you'll find your eye isn't an issue."
|
|
|
Post by glamourie on Oct 12, 2009 17:30:33 GMT -5
It was really tempting to laugh right in M’ta’s face. Really tempting. His apology was sincere enough but wow – M’ta’s face. He looked so… so shocked. R’wign bit his tongue to avoid even smiling, instead watching M’ta with a look that was very carefully schooled neutral (and thus would probably be easy to read, but oh well). He looked as if he’d never heard an apology before and R’wign was quite sure he’d apologized at least once. Maybe not as seriously, but he’d never upset M’ta as seriously before, either – the apology was supposed to fit the crime, right? Honestly, he wasn’t that bad. From the shock, one would think he’d sprouted a second head and that it resembled Marra or something. Which, really, would have frightened him more than M’ta, but that was irrelevant. The other brownrider was being very silly. R’wign had manners enough not to scoff in his face or laugh or anything of the sort (no matter how much M’ta was asking for it) and he instead turned to look at the river. It was getting later, the sun was setting and the water looked distinctly golden as a result – thus reminding him that he probably needed to check in to the infirmary at least for a few moments… he’d need to sleep but R’wign had taken two hours off and he wanted to make them up. Obsessive? Just a tad. Oh Faranth did his nose hurt.
“I was being facetious; I’m just sure I’ll end up hurting myself. Though, at least I won’t have a bleeding nose… hopefully,” R’wign said, rubbing the tip of his nose. “Hurts something awful. You and Ka’rys both say he doesn’t hit hard but my nose begs to differ. Is it still bleeding?” Without waiting for a response, R’wign tilted his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing. Would he need to set it? Probably. Ka’rys really did quite the number on him. Unintentional though it was, it hurt. “You’ll show me how to hold the blades so that I don’t end up mangling my hands? I kind of need them. I’m decent enough at cutting things though I imagine that’s… different.” He was actually a wiz when it came to cutting up herbs into interesting shapes (boredom strikes) but he was fairly certain that a standard kitchen knife and throwing blades wouldn’t work too similarly. Pity.
The idea of everyone being equally terrible was reassuring. R’wign really wanted to try. He was open to pretty much any idea so long as it didn’t involve him badly mangling people, and he was pretty sure he’d have some progress with throwing blades since it didn’t mean he had to throw them at people to learn. He didn’t voice that thought to M’ta because he was pretty sure it would just upset him again (he hadn’t meant to the first time, but he was going to complain a lot less if it kept them from fighting). How expensive were throwing blades? He’d have to get his own eventually; using M’ta’s forever would drive him insane. He hated borrowing other people’s things. Additionally, he was fairly certain that M’ta would miss them. That was something to look into getting at the next Gather if he could afford it after spoiling his son rotten. Riaren really did have him wrapped around his little finger already.
Wait, what? He had blades on him still? R’wign blinked as M’ta removed the knives from his person and he carefully reached over to take one of them from him right after the other brownrider threw the first blade. The entire thing would have been impressive if R’wign understood the difficulty. But he didn’t. The healer weighed his stolen blade out in his hand while the other boy spoke before frowning. “Dominant eye is a bit of an understatement,” he said with a wry smile; he only had one, after all. “I don’t really – how much free time is needed to learn something like that…? You know my shifts; I’m lucky if I can get two or three candlemarks off a sevenday.” He made it sound like it wasn’t his fault but… it was R’wign who made the shifts. He could easily work nine candlemarks a day instead of twelve and not have any problem, or eight – but R’wign was stubborn and he wanted the full half-day. He didn’t trust the other healers very much. “I want to learn though… maybe I can just sacrifice sleep some…”
He held the blade back out to M’ta before scratching above his right eyebrow. “I’m willing to try, if you think I can do it…”
|
|
Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
|
Post by Requiem on Oct 12, 2009 21:30:35 GMT -5
Neutral expression. M'ta ignored it. Probably about to laugh at him or something, but what could he say? A R'wign apology with no strings attached was rare, and he didn't often school his expressions with R'wign. The healer always knew he was hiding something, after all, even if he probably didn't always know what.
"I don't know how you expect me to tell with your arm blocking your face," M'ta commented dryly. He shook his head. "He doesn't. I hit harder than he does..." The brownrider didn't bother explaining to a healer that some parts of your body were more fragile than others. Of course R'wign knew that. Although...why Ka'rys had felt the need to punch R'wign in the face was beyond M'ta. Or maybe not, considering a blow to the torso made it so the healer couldn't breathe. There really wasn't a good place to hit him, was there? Unless you counted kicking at his ankles like a weyrbrat. Somehow...he didn't think that would be an effective training method.
He couldn't really see what R'wign was doing from this angle. The wonders of being overwhelmingly short. "Of course, I wouldn't punch you in the face. Not tall enough." He wasn't even sure if he could manage it jumping. Sometimes, M'ta really did wish he wasn't quite so vertically challenged. Most of the time he accepted it, but...
"Yeah, I'll show you how to hold 'em." Obviously. Such a queer question. "Probably wrap your hands, too. Wish I'd done that." Not that there was much material to come by, but eh. He didn't figure they'd actually be doing much practicing today, considering R'wign had to have been out here for awhile already. And was nursing a busted nose, by the looks of it. Why did he randomly want to walk up to Ka'rys and return the favor, even knowing that the junior weyrleader hadn't meant anything by it other than to try to teach the healer? Probably good Ka'rys was gone.
Taking the blade back from R'wign, M'ta smirked at him. "If you want to do it and put the time into it? I think you could probably do just about anything." Mild shrug. His gaze was just a touch reproachful. "And don't think I don't know you can't make the time if you want to. You start looking like a stringbean with half-moons under your eyes, I'll sit on you and force you to sleep." He pondered the question of time committment for a moment. "A candlemark a day would do it, I think. Less once you start getting better. It's muscle memory, as I said."
|
|
|
Post by glamourie on Oct 13, 2009 2:28:04 GMT -5
“If I move my arm, the bleeding will get worse. This is my way of trying to stop it from bleeding so much,” R’wign replied mildly. Oh he understood just fine what M’ta’s point was, but… “If you hit harder, you must not have been trying – the face hurt way more than your punch.” Of course, the location probably had a lot to do with that but R’wign was ignoring that. Technically the face bled more, but it shouldn’t have hurt more – his chest was damaged enough that it should’ve hurt a lot more to be socked in the gut. He didn’t specify that because it might upset M’ta. He’d done enough of that so far. His hand dropped away just the same and he turned his head to look at M’ta as he spoke, giving the other brownrider his full attention, for better or worse. The height joke notwithstanding, R’wign wasn’t really sure where M’ta could acceptably hit him… he hated being hit in the face, it always bled terribly and it was harder to hide. For example, it was quite easy to disguise the bruises all over his back – he was pretty sure most people had no idea about them. Or the slowly forming one on his stomach, thankfully. Face… well, short of a mask… “You’ll just kick me in the shins, right? Common short person attack tactic. Quite evil in my opinion. Shin-kicker.”
His hand dropped down and he leaned forward, toeing the sand. M’ta’s explanation was listened to but his eye dropped down to his feet. The compliment was… flattering, he supposed. R’wign had a problem with sticking with things if he didn’t display an immediate talent. Healing was something that mostly came natural to him – especially herbalism. He’d specialized for a reason. Trying to learn something that did not come easily… well, his natural instinct was to give up; if he wasn’t a natural, it obviously wasn’t worth effort. That was his usual philosophy, which… didn’t work. How was he supposed to stay alive acting like that? He wouldn’t be able to. M’ta’s comment was flattering though. He just wished that he believed it; R’wign didn’t really have all that much faith in himself. He was better at letting people down than he was at living to expectations. Part of him was frightened by the vote of confidence and he could feel his heartbeat increase. He deliberately turned his head so that one of the loose locks of black hair hid his face; maybe M’ta wouldn’t notice the slight anxiety in his posture. One could hope, right?
Part of him was desperate to get the topic off of himself. He didn’t like the idea of someone he cared about… believing in him. It was queer, backwards, but he hated letting people down. He’d let everyone important down to him as a child and his response to that was to run away – run all the way to Healer Hall from Nerat, because he could never be the fisherman son that his father wanted. He could never be the protector that Religna needed. He’d made sure not to get attached at Healer Hall and coming to Selenitas, he tried very hard not to give anyone a reason to… to believe in him. It was easier if people just thought he was a playful, silly clown – someone to laugh at but never take seriously. People didn’t take those who were as inappropriate and wildly playful as he was seriously. M’ta apparently did and the entire thing boggled his mind. He pulled his knees up to his chest instinctively and rested his chin on the top of them.
“I don’t think you sitting on me would be exactly effective,” R’wign pointed out, and if his voice had a slight nervous edge, what of it? He was hoping that M’ta wouldn’t comment on it, and the other boy probably wouldn’t. Hopefully. “I think a candlemark is fine – I mean, I mostly just work, go home, take care of my pets, and bathe, then sleep. I don’t really have much in the way of a social life aside from… well, you…” His arms tightened slightly. It was true in many senses. He had a lot of people he talked to once in awhile – some he’d call friends. Ka’rys, K’lir… then there was Meira and M’ta, and the infirmary staff. Hardly the most booming social life.
It worried him that M’ta seemed to… have so much faith in him. The last person to believe in him enough to say that he could do anything was Marra… and she was dead. She was also the last person that he felt as comfortable with as he did M’ta. The thought unnerved him; Marra was more than just an associate, they were weyrmates in truth and – and M’ta had just kissed him, too. His stomach did an interesting flip and he rubbed his nose before glancing over at M’ta.
“Why’d you kiss me?” Subtlety, thy name was R’wign.
|
|
Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
|
Post by Requiem on Oct 14, 2009 23:32:08 GMT -5
M'ta wrinkled his nose at R'wign. No...he'd gut-punched the healer. Avoiding bones and other things that tended to feel it more. It wasn't like he was actually capable of putting his full force behind a blow directed at the other brownrider. (Perhaps that was why he was so willing to accept that R'wign couldn't engage people in the sort of combat Ka'rys and M'ta himself did. He didn't strike people unless he planned to kill them or otherwise take them out most of the time - even when sparring. The only spars he'd participated in involved blades, and was mostly just him taking the defensive. Likely his skill level had plummeted significantly due to that, but M'ta didn't enjoy hurting people. Blood in particular had the potential to make him squeamish if he wasn't careful. Too many memories tied to it.)
Behruth's disapproval of violence in general might have something to do with how much less likely he was to get aggressive these days, too. The brown's concern wasn't what some might think, however. His main reason for hating violence as far as M'ta was concerned...was M'ta had a habit of taking on more than he could reasonably handle to protect the people around him. Ruth understood it, but it didn't mean the dragon had to like it.
"I don't usually kick people in the shins, no," M'ta responded, a touch of amusement behind his voice. Though he had with R'wign on occasion. In fact, R'wign might well be the only person he kicked in the shins. Even then, more as an expression of annoyance than anything that was likely to do more than sting.
He cocked his head to one side, eyeing R'wign openly. Had he said something wrong? The healer seemed inordinately bothered by his comment about the older brownrider's capabilities. "You can, you know," he added quietly, with a touch more force. It seemed so obvious to him. There was nothing that seemed to be hard for the healer...unless his thoughts got in the way. M'ta really hadn't met anyone that intelligent. (Before R'wign, he'd never doubted his own intelligence, but just being around the other brownrider sometimes made him feel like he was on the other end of the bell curve.)
He might have commented on R'wign's social life - possibly - or stated the fact that he wasn't really as small as he seemed, silly healer...but R'wign's question caught him first. M'ta frowned, a bit surprised. What? The timing was so strange. Why ask that now? The obvious time would be right after it happened. His first instinct, of course, was to assume that the healer meant it as something rhetorical, like 'why'd you have to go and kiss me?' or something, which made his stomach clench. The nervous fear that R'wign would be creeped out and want him out of the weyr was rebirthed...and died almost in the same breath. People's perceptions are always colored by what they expect, but the inflections were wrong.
Wrong enough that it seemed...but how could R'wign not understand? How many reasons were there? If he wanted to deny it, he could, he realized now. And the healer would likely believe him if it made things more comfortable. Maybe. Except M'ta was a terrible liar, and why should he have to, anyway? It was a bit annoying that R'wign was forcing him to actually...talk about it. He would have thought it obvious.
"I've wanted to...for awhile." More than kiss him, too, but kissing was all he was even remotely comfortable considering presently, much less acting upon. M'ta felt the blood gathering in his face, and he looked away, digging at the ground idly. "But, you know, you like Kaegan and were with Marra - and I don't know what you and Meira have going. It's just weird anyway. I'll admit it. Tried to shake it, but...didn't work. I wasn't going to let you know, because we're friends and I didn't want that to change. Didn't want you to get freaked or something. Today, though, I...I thought you'd convince yourself I was using you, because you do things like that, and then I'd lose my friend anyway. You don't listen to words very well, either. It seemed...the best way to make you understand."
He glanced up at R'wign, a note of defiance behind his voice. "I'm sorry if it bothers you, but I'm not sorry I did it." Not sorry at all. Because R'wign going stiff on him like that...might just help him push the feelings aside. They were inconvenient and didn't make sense and the healer couldn't return them anyway. Easier for all involved if they died quietly.
|
|
|
Post by glamourie on Oct 15, 2009 0:38:36 GMT -5
He really needed to stop insisting that he was… more than he was. R’wign wanted to curl up and shrink away from the reassurance; he didn’t know how to respond to someone having such… such faith in him. He was used to being underestimated and he liked it better. As it was, M’ta saved him from having to comment on that by answering his question – and he was both happy and upset; he didn’t want to explain his discomfort (M’ta would almost certainly get annoyed with him) but… the answer was not one that he expected; or at least, not one he was entirely sure he knew how to react to. R’wign turned his head and looked at M’ta silently, not speaking and not interrupting. He kept his face somewhat blanked – there was definitely surprise. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to keep that off his face and with each word a thousand new questions half-formed in his mind, none of which R’wign gave voice. It seemed disrespectful to interrupt M’ta when he was talking, and… he’d asked. He wanted to know the answer unabridged, without any kind of prompting on his part. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure he knew how to respond to that answer. Or what he wanted his response to be. His boot nudged the sand and R’wign gave a curt nod of understanding – signifying that he was listening more than anything else.
The truth was… he didn’t know how he felt. M’ta was his best friend and the only person who seemed to have the strength to deal with his… withdrawal from everyone. Yes, he knew he was doing it; he didn’t admit it out loud but he knew that he was pushing people away. Sometimes when he closed his eye, he saw Marra’s bloody form and he wasn’t sure he could live through that again. He just did not know if he could. Part of him thought he’d just shatter and break, so it was easier to avoid people. Easier. Safer. Happier. M’ta didn’t seem willing to give up on him though… and he didn’t want M’ta to; he was glad someone put up with it. Part of him felt very lonely, part of him was relieved. So conflicted.
Wait, Meira…? He thought something was –
“Nothing is going on with me and Meira,” he said with the barest touch of amusement in his voice. “Riaren… was conceived when Meisk decided to chase a wild wher. We’ve just been letting people assume otherwise because I don’t know if Meira could handle the general public knowing what really happened. She was mortified, and… yeah.” He shrugged; M’ta was one of the only people that he’d tell the honest truth of what happened. Otherwise he was fine with the reputation of having seduced sweet, innocent Meira – it wasn’t like he cared what people thought of him. As it was, the only person who knew the truth outside of him and Meira was M’ta. Even Ka’rys and K’lir didn’t know the truth; he’d never told them or Kalierre or anyone. He didn’t want Meira to feel embarrassed. She’d apologized so profusely and seemed so guilty… even he felt bad. “Honestly, Meira’s – well, she’s a sweet girl, but she’s a kid. Extremely mature, yes, but she’s a kid in many ways. I’m not interested in her. Not as anything more than a friend. She’s so meek, I’d constantly feel like I was taking advantage of her anyway. I do that enough as it is…”
He hoped that explanation was enough. Meira was definitely not on his list of people to pursue. Kaegan, on the other hand… Kaegan was. Trying to deny that or dissuade M’ta from that impression would have been a lie, and he didn’t quite know how to respond to that statement. He didn’t think he had a chance with Kaegan. She seemed very… she didn’t seem too interested in him when he’d mentioned it, and he didn’t talk to her much; he’d been actively avoiding her. Thinking about Kaegan stung. R’wign didn’t want her to know it was him who liked her… he didn’t like that he felt awkward around her. She probably hated him. Probably. He decided not to comment on the subject of her, though – the mention of Marra possibly stung worse and alarmed him. He’d felt that way since Marra was alive? She’d been gone over a turn…
How had he not noticed?
“I’m not freaked,” he said with a lot more confidence than he felt. “I’m surprised. Bothers…? Bothers… I don’t think I’m bothered, just… baffled. Marra’s been gone for over a turn.” He glanced at M’ta and fidgeted nervously before looking down at the tops of his feet. The pain in his nose was all but forgotten. “I’m kind of wondering how I didn’t notice... if you’ve felt like this for that long.” He shook his head and looked over at M’ta before saying honestly, “I’m not going to lie – I don’t really know if I feel the same way, and I’m sure you don’t expect me to say I do. I don’t really – I’ve never thought about you as more than a friend and… I’m fumbling this really badly, but I guess what I’m saying is – if you’re wanting – if you want – I need some time to process this. If you want us to be more than friends, that is.” He rubbed his nose; he didn’t know if that was… thoughtless or cruel. It felt like it was. But he didn’t want to lie and claim he felt something that he didn’t know if he felt or not. “I’m not freaked out or anything though. I think you’d have to do something a little more severe to freak me out; I don’t panic easy.”
|
|
Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
|
Post by Requiem on Oct 15, 2009 1:46:50 GMT -5
He didn't understand why R'wign looked...surprised, when he looked up. He really didn't. At the kiss, yes, but... Maybe M'ta had things all confused. To him a kiss only had one meaning. The context might color the meaning differently, but it still only had one. That R'wign had to ask was strange, and left him wondering if this was just another one of those things he simply didn't understand. Like the whole sexual concept that had eluded him until Fi threw herself at him. Again and again. Even if he couldn't respond as she wanted, it at least reinforced the idea that not everyone but him could be wrong...there had to be a reason people liked it. Nor could he deny that with R'wign he did...want...which was strange.
Behruth didn't find it strange, though. Ruth seemed to be fairly tickled pink by the whole thing, and clearly thought that it was right for His to - love - Checkoth's.
M'ta's surprise was likely humorous, when R'wign explained the thing with Meira. He could barely fathom it. Of course people acted differently during Runs and Flights (obviously) but he still couldn't picture her throwing herself at R'wign. It was so against her normal nature. He wasn't sure what he'd thought, actually. They didn't seem to be a couple. Friendly enough, yes, but not together - though he had so little experience with such things he thought maybe they'd just been keeping a low profile around him? Shy or something. Well, it made sense, and he found himself nodding to R'wign's assessment of Meira. Initially she'd been safe (and he would have bet marks if he'd fallen for anyone, it would be her). But Ruth was changing him. He knew it, even though he didn't think about it much. Meira's docility was endearing - but also disturbing. Sometimes he worried for her.
He knew he'd never be content with someone like that, where he'd spend too much time wondering how much of what she did she actually wanted. M'ta was...insecure enough with such things without adding that to it. A friend. A little sister. Nothing more, though.
Not that R'wign seemed any better. Feelings didn't listen to reason, though, at least not in this case. Or maybe it was simply a defense mechanism. If he wanted another man who didn't - couldn't - want him, he'd never have to worry about the topic, now would he? Not that it was a conscious thing, if it was true - and M'ta really couldn't be sure if it was or not. If it was a subconscious way to keep himself from going there, it was buried deep enough that even his dreams didn't acknowledge it. Rare for him to dream...he colored at the thought of them.
M'ta frowned at R'wign, confused for a few moments. Oh. Oh. He shook his head, not knowing how to answer immediately. R'wign thought...? But the other words took precedence. As the brownrider spoke, the light uneasiness in his stomach grew, M'ta finding his eyes going to his fingers, which plucked at the ground almost convulsively. He hadn't...thought R'wign would even consider it. The healer sounded so apologetic. M'ta hadn't even entertained the notion that R'wign would do anything but turn him down - likely in disgust - maybe gently if he was lucky.
It had kept him calm, knowing the outcome.
Now he was nervous all over again, not knowing what he wanted. Part of him clearly wanted...but his mind kept on flailing. The feelings didn't make sense. "Good to know you're not going to run for the hills the moment I turn my back," M'ta managed weakly, the joke an honest attempt, at least. He dug small furrows in the ground with his fingers. He'd kind of asked a question, but M'ta needed to think before he could answer, so he addressed R'wign's other comment. "I didn't...if I did, R'wign, I didn't know it. Only realized maybe a month ago..." he finished, voice trailing off. Realized a month ago, yes, but he knew it had to have started long before then. Probably when R'wign nearly died on him. Probably. Not that M'ta would have any real luck pinpointing it if asked...he didn't feel any different toward R'wign, really, in any way that mattered. Just...now his mind kept on drifting. Sometimes when he saw him, sometimes when he was alone. And the dreams were disturbing.
He sighed then. "I suppose you're asking me where I want to take this, aren't you? Guess that's fair." Even if it had him nervous enough he couldn't meet R'wign's eyes. Anyone who saw him likely would think he found the dirt terribly interesting. "I'd like...I'd like to be closer to you." That was it, wasn't it? "I trust you. You're my best friend, who I care most about, and I don't...when you touch me, I don't want to pull away." His glance was shy. "I want to trust you fully, and I'd like to make you happy. So if you're happiest just being as we are, then that's what I want."
It was...fairly simple. Hopefully R'wign understood, because he didn't know how to explain it any better.
|
|
|
Post by glamourie on Oct 15, 2009 3:13:11 GMT -5
Okay, that was slightly reassuring; it pleased him to not be the only person who was surprised. M’ta’s response to the revelation of Riaren’s conception was priceless. He trusted M’ta not to tell anyone – probably the only person he trusted that much, actually. When his own happiness and reputation were on the line, he worried less, but Meira was a different story. Meira was so shy, so innocent… destroying her reputation was cruel. People already had outlandish ideas about him, he was fine with that. Most people were worthless in his eyes anyway. Those who he cared about knew him well enough… or… he’d thought. Part of him was a little anxious as he wondered, briefly, if M’ta thought he’d taken advantage of Meira or something. He didn’t like the idea of M’ta of all people thinking that. He wanted to believe that M’ta knew him well enough to know he’d never do that to Meira… or anyone, actually. The amount of people he’d been with outside of flights or runs was a grand total of three, and Cezine… he could hardly be qualified as having seduced Cezine; she’d practically torn his clothes off, and Kalierre didn’t count as normal either. So… so… Why was he making excuses in his head and justifying it? It didn’t sound like M’ta minded. He pushed that thought from his mind forcibly.
“Of course I’m not going to run away,” he said, a lilt in his voice indicating definite playfulness. “You’re faster than I am so I wouldn’t get too far, would I?”
Joking felt very strange to R’wign, probably because he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. He had a talent for putting his foot into his mouth and the last thing he wanted was to unintentionally offend M’ta. Anyone else he’d worry less… but M’ta was his best friend. He wasn’t ready to give that friendship up, either, not for anyone. So he had to think before he spoke, at least for the moment. Think and analyze what he was saying without making it too obvious that he was doing so (he didn’t think M’ta would respond well to him focusing so much on what he was saying and how he was saying it). He was worried, yes, that he would say something that would unintentionally hurt M’ta’s feelings… he didn’t know how to go about relationships very well, and he certainly wasn’t used to people liking him. The only person he knew of that did was Marra, and that entire situation was awkward. He and Marra thrived on offending each other for the most part. M’ta wasn’t like Marra at all though. That was good, too, though, because… because he hadn’t loved Marra. Not the way he should have after being with her for Turns. She was important to him, but he didn’t love her, and that thought made him feel guilty fairly often.
M’ta’s so-soft explanation brought a prominent shade of red to R’wign’s face and he stammered, “O-oh you meant – oh – oh – well – erm, yes…” He’d meant that he was only interested in women. Duh. Stupid moment. R’wign turned to stare pointedly at his feet in an attempt to hide the red from his face; he didn’t want M’ta to know how positively idiotic he felt… and relieved; he wasn’t sure he could live with the idea that he’d missed something like M’ta having feelings for him for over a Turn. He’d have felt terrible and inconsiderate. Stupid, though; he should have realized what M’ta meant. How could he be so dumb? His idiocy was reaching new all-time highs, really.
His rambling thoughts came to a skidded halt as he processed what M’ta said. Leaving it up to him. How helpful. Well, at least he had an answer of what M’ta wanted – the problem really was that he didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t really have any idea. Part of him was appalled that he was even considering anything; the part of him that was still a boy from Nerat was balking. The part of him that was M’ta’s friend wanted to at least think. Most of him was just confused, which he registered was partially because he was surprised. The mental reassurance from Checkoth was enough to relax him; if M’ta really did want whatever he wanted (and wouldn’t be mad or hurt if he decided he preferred to just… just stay friends), then he had time to decide what that was. He didn’t have to make a decision right then. Which was good, because he couldn’t.
“Okay,” he said softly, glancing at M’ta. “Well, I guess I should figure out what that is, then, shouldn’t I? In the meantime, I need to get my nose checked out by someone who can actually see what they’re doing. Do you want to come with me to the infirmary…?” It felt wrong to run off so quickly, but his nose was hurting quite badly, and he wanted to make sure it wasn’t going to heal wrong and leave his face even more disfigured. Which begged the question of how M’ta could find him remotely attractive – he looked like a mutant. That thought was kept to himself. He was pretty sure he wasn’t ready to hear an answer to that question. Not yet anyway.
|
|
Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
|
Post by Requiem on Oct 15, 2009 23:27:48 GMT -5
R'wign's quip had been met with a smile that was almost shy and a faint nod. Yes, he was faster. Not that he'd chase R'wign down, as like as not, if the healer did decide to run from him, but that was of no consequence. Just jokes anyway.
He hadn't meant to embarrass R'wign at all. Clearly he just hadn't been precise with his explanation, even though he'd tried to be. But M'ta figured it was best just to pretend he didn't notice his friend's blush. They'd just ignore that particular failure in communication. Anyway, he really couldn't be definitively sure that...it was possible. Unlikely, yes, but it seemed to just be a natural outgrowth of their friendship. Nothing had changed really. Not noticeably, so it was possible that, even though R'wign had misunderstood him, the healer wasn't necessarily wrong. But this was disturbing enough to M'ta that he didn't say anything to that effect.
Figure out...what he wanted. Such an odd concept. M'ta nodded mutely, still trying to process the thought that R'wign was actually considering...He glanced up at the healer's offer, flashing a smile that definitely had a hint of apology behind it. This was awkward enough. Yes, he appreciated how the other brownrider was making sure that M'ta didn't mistake his return to the Weyr as an attempt to escape. He did. But the shorter man didn't feel he could handle much more of this awkwardness.
Shaking his head slightly, he nodded toward the trees on the other side. "You go ahead. I have to get the daggers. Might be better if you had time to yourself, anyway. I'll have food out when you get back." He had brought it out for R'wign, after all, but events had conspired to leave the packed items forgotten, still nestled in their basket. So maybe he was a little obsessive about making sure the healer ate, but R'wign forgot way too much, and until he didn't feel like randomly walking up and using the brownrider's ribs as a washboard, he'd continue to shove food at him.
Reaching out, M'ta touched R'wign's arm lightly. "Thanks." He was up and moving in the next instant, partly because the flush was coming back into his face, and partly because he couldn't tell anyone what the thanks had been for if he tried. M'ta removed the blades from the tree, lingering over them for a few extra moments. His careful assessment of the blades was calming in its almost ritualistic nature. No nicks. No warping of the metal. Satisfied, he returned them to their sheaths.
|
|