Two for the Price of One. {Fade in/K'lir & T'rid}

[glamourie]

Mmm. K'lir stirred slightly and rolled over onto his back, one hand slinging up to put his wrist over his eyes. He stretched, his other arm reaching up above his head, while his legs stretched down against the furs. His right leg kicked to the side, pushing the furs off of himself and he slowly sat up, in the process moving back so that his back rested against an unfamiliar headboard. That was curious. He clicked his tongue, then dropped his arm to his side and opened his eyes as a flood of memory came rushing back to him along with the knowledge that the bed he was so-comfortably lounging in was so not his own. He mentally felt around for Calistoth and - finding the green still asleep (typical, no backup!) - exhaled. Relax. Calm down, he told himself silently, and forced his nerves to still. Waking up in someone else's bed wasn't necessarily a bad thing (such had happened on numerous occasions when he was younger, particularly after too much wine), but it took him a moment to remember where he was. He remembered being very angry at Rath. So very angry. Which meant... that he was in R'non's weyr.

Ha ha ha ha ha.

Blinking to himself, K'lir smirked. R'non's weyr. That meant eventually, the former Junior Weyrleader would come back. He made a mental note to stay put and make quite a show of dressing when he bothered to return. Vindictive, who, K'lir? Not that he had much right to be, but making bronzeriders squirm was one of the few joys he got out of life and he took excessive delight in it. R'non was one of the more uppity bronzeriders in his experience, too, which made him even more entertaining.

But wait. He was in R'non's weyr, but R'non wasn't there. He distinctly remembered being annoyed (and, sheepishly he recalled, breaking a lot of R'non's belongings) at that fact. Z'hin also wasn't there - though, K'lir was privately grateful for that fact, as the brownrider was not one of the people he found most attractive at Selenitas. No offense meant to him, but K'lir had a type and it was usually the uptight and uppity, given a choice; the ones who squirmed the most. Z'hin was too flirty. But he was gone. He'd been at the Hold too. Which meant it was someone else sharing his furs. His head cocked to the side and he slowly turned to look at whoever he'd snagged and his eyes widened to the size of small saucers. Was that - could it be - had he - HE DID!

The look on K'lir's face was one of blatant delight as he rolled over so that he was half-draped over T'rid, both arms propping him up so that he wasn't completely on top of him. Doubtlessly the movements would make the bronzerider stir but he didn't care much. What were the odds of him managing to scandalize not one but two bronzeriders with a single flight that neither of their dragons had won? Some part of him wanted to kiss Calistoth and he made a mental note to oil her excessively well later. No doubt she too would be extremely pleased with herself and he would probably get yelled at by the Weyrleader or Weyrwoman for Calistoth causing a fuss at the Gather, but for the moment, he honestly did not care. He'd managed to wrangle himself a bronzerider and in his experience they tended to respond very amusingly when they realized they were sharing furs with another male. Fun fun fun.

"Good morning, sunshine," K'lir purred, leaning his face close to T'rid's... which essentially made escape impossible, as was his goal. No running, not before he got his own entertainment. How he loved that devilish green of his!

[Avu]

Sleepy. He was very sleepy. T'rid was semi-conscious at present time, mentally reviewing what exactly had occured while still clinging to the last vestiges of warm sleep. Corinth. Chasing. Chasing Calistoth. (Stupid bronze.) Not getting mauled, unlike some of the suitors. Good. That was good. Kind of. Winning...had he won? No. No, Corinth hadn't won. He'd...lost, then. Yes, he'd lost. But...he...he'd...? Won. Kind of? Confusion. Cor... Sleep well? The bronze sounded amazingly smug for one who'd lost a Flight. Umm. Why? Well, considering... The thought was cut off as someone rolled on top of T'rid, effectively making the Bronzerider stir into wakefulness, irately shifting sideways, keeping his eyes closed. He didn't want to wake up yet. Go away. Shoo. Calistoth's can't read your mind like I can, you realize?

A pause.

A very long, very awkward pause, as T'rid struggled mentally, trying to make something click. But you lost... Yes. That's right. Jessereth caught Calistoth. Well then, what do you mean 'Calistoth's'? Jessereth's was, you realize, absent. There was a Gather, which was the place where I presume most of the Riders were at the time of the Flight. Another pause. It was not ended by a sudden realization of what had occured. Rather, it was ended when K'lir chose to lean very close to T'rid - close enough that T'rid could feel his breath - and speak. "Good morning, sunshine." Funny how effectively those three words jolted him into complete consciousness faster than Corinth yelling at him for five minutes on end could.

His eyes snapped open as the pieces finally fell into place. "SHARDIT!" T'rid quite literally twitched, jerking himself sideways in a fruitless attempt to evade K'lir. Shard his weight. Shard Calistoth Rising. Shard Corinth. The bed was, unfortunately, not quite narrow enough for him to simply fall off on purpose and hopefully be able to rid himself of the Greenrider's weight and he found himself...completely trapped. "Get off of me!" he hissed, trying to unpin his arms as to push K'lir off.

CORINTH! This was actually not my fault. I didn't catch Calistoth, did I? DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE? IT'S YOUR FAULT FOR EVEN BEING IN THE SHARDING FLIGHT! Oh, scorch it - what had he done under the influences of Flightlust? Sharditsharditshardit! He had slept with K'lir. Who was a male. I did tell you I'd get my revenge. Argh! What did one say in response to something like that?

[glamourie]

Tension beneath him told him that the bronzerider was waking up, and K'lir smiled. His expression resembled a feline who got at the cream and there was certainly no denying that he was very, very happy with himself. K'lir was very easy to read in some senses; certainly his anger and happiness were blatantly obvious even if his motives were not (typically as a result of K'lir not understanding why he did half the things that he chose to do; he never claimed to be consistent, just serious). When T'rid's eyes flicked open, it took every bit of his self-control not to laugh in the bronzerider's face. The back of his mind was distinctly aware that mocking someone who ranked him and was, technically, his wingsecond was not the best of ideas, but K'lir wasn't thinking with the logical side of his brain (did he ever?). No, his mind was latched onto the fact that T'rid looked outrageously embarrassed and from his hissed response, that was how he felt too. Every part of the greenrider was aching with maniacal glee, except for a tiny voice in the back of his mind that was annoyed -- annoyed because if either of them had a right to complain, it was him. He'd bottomed, not T'rid. Pfft.

Get off of him. K'lir smirked slightly, his mind instantly warping those words to mean something completely different and he leaned forward to lick the very end of T'rid's nose, defiant as ever. Showoff and Calistoth were obstinate for a reason and half from exposure; K'lir was never one to give in easily. He was comfortable where he was, especially when it was blatantly obvious that T'rid was not. He wasn't hurting him, he was just... providing him with a little bit of discomfort and embarrassment. As far as K'lir was concerned, T'rid deserved it for naming his salamandyr Stupid. Part of him took a sadistic glee at the thought of S'rei's green Running too. Fun fun fun fun fun.

"Why ever would I do that? Darling, we're just getting started. You're not going to walk out now that you've been satisfied? How horribly inconsiderate of you," he purred, neatly ignoring the fact that he had absolutely no complaints whatsoever. Putting on a mock pout - and the most girly expression he was capable of (he was being deliberately excessively feminine in hopes of making T'rid uncomfortable; K'lir was typically bratty, and yes, feminine in most of his ways, but no part of him was girly) - he cocked his head to the side and spoke softly, "I thought - I thought we had something. Surely you felt it - surely?"

He was almost certainly going to get slugged, but fortunately, his position on top of T'rid would make it hard to hit him without him being able to move. His arms were neatly in the way, after all. No real force. Really, K'lir didn't much mind being hit, though. He had no problem with it, particularly when he was being snarky, and the embarrassment he was certain the bronzerider felt was more than worth it. How many chances did he get, really, to embarrass either S'rei or T'rid? Showoff handled the former quite beautifully, and T'rid - oh, he was half-tempted to kiss Z'hin the next time he saw him just on principle. This - this was well worth missing the Gather for. He could go shopping any time. Getting the chance to make T'rid want to drown himself was priceless. Absolutely priceless. Maniacal glee welled up inside of him that he bit back from showing on his features as he brushed his nose against T'rid's in what could be taken (and was intended to appear) as affection.

In the back of his mind, he felt Calistoth stirring awake, and her confusion - followed by amusement. She did not speak, though, as she made herself comfortable on Rath's weyrledge (considerably larger than her own) as if she owned the place. Once Hers got rid of Corinth's, they would talk. As it was, the green stretched out and laid her head on her claws, half-tempted to take up residence on the weyrledge. Rath owed her for hurting Jessereth in her flight. She didn't care one wink whether or not those two fought but doing it in her flight was inappropriate and she wanted to rip her claws through them as a result. How rude.

[Avu]

He. Was. Furious. At the whole Sharding world. Screw the Gather - it had just so happened that because of a bunch of flower-obsessed idiots, he'd ended up with K'lir instead of Z'hin waking up with the annoying Greenrider. T'rid almost snarled in his temper, completely and acutely aware he was red in the face and still nude. With K'lir on top of him. Shard his luck...CORINTH, COME - The start of his mental yell was cut off as he realized he wasn't in the Flightrooms. Which meant he was...where? Weyr. A Weyr. Someone else's Weyr. K'lir's? No, it was a much larger weyr...Bronzerider. R'non. He really did snarl there, twitching as he tried unsuccessfully to jerk away from K'lir. R'non had to come back sometimes, and when he did, T'rid hardly wanted to be in his bed, still nude, with K'lir still on top of him. If he'd any say in it, he would be far, far away. Scrubbing himself with sweetsand until he could forget everything.

The whole 'furious and embarrassed' thing only intensified as K'lir licked him. He. Was. Going. To. Murder. K'lir. No you're not. GO AWAY! T'rid was hardly in an angelic temper at present time, highly considering knocking K'lir out with anything he could get his hands on that was hard enough to deal a blow and light enough to wield from a lying-down position, and Corinth listening in to his thoughts and laughing fit to burst was not helping. Nor was K'lir helping much (although T'rid was completely aware the Greenrider wasn't trying to help). The only response the Greenrider got was a hiss, although his expression was tempting T'rid very badly to hurt the Greenrider. A pity he couldn't really punch in his present state. Well, getting K'lir off of him was a good start, too. Unfortunately, he didn't exactly know how to go about doing just that. One of his arms had gone to sleep on him and he was more likely to end up banging it on the headpiece of the bed than anything else, and the other hand was trapped beneath himself - and he was, naturally, unable to get up due to K'lir's weight.

He hissed again through gritted teeth as K'lir brushed his nose across T'rid's in an affectionate manner. "Get off!" he insisted, his voice little more than a snarl now. Faranth, what wouldn't he give for a lovely, thick metal bar in hand right now...ideas. Ideas, he needed ideas. How to get K'lir off of him, how to get into his clothes, how to get to his weyr, and most tempting of all, how to punch K'lir. No, he wasn't offering up much of a chance for conversation, but then there really wasn't much to be said except for "get off," and "good-bye." Unfortunately, K'lir's being on top of him wasn't really allowing him to exercise the latter very well. Surely, though, it wasn't normal to end up being pinned forcefully to the bed and taunted by a Flightpartner? That was just wrong - especially if that Flightpartner in question was undeniably male (yes, as much as T'rid wished he hadn't, he had seen enough to be sure of that).

Calistoth is awake. I don't care. Why should I care? T'rid spat back sharply, trying to extracate his arm from underneath himself. A difficult task indeed when he was doing his best not to do anything that could be possibly taken as suggestive.

[glamourie]

Such pretty colors. K'lir smirked, gleeful. It was hard not to find it amusing how angry T'rid was getting - angry and flustered. And clearly unaware of anything about K'lir's personality. Had he played along and relaxed, there was a good chance K'lir would have climbed up and let him go. Teasing was no fun when the person on the receiving end of the teasing played along and didn't much mind. Only when they got uptight and angry was it entertaining, and T'rid, in typical bronzerider fashion, was not disappointing. His skin distantly resembled a redfruit, in the greenrider's opinion, and he was tempted to point that much out. He was surprised that the other male didn't scream, high-pitched and terrified. The fact that he failed to do so just tempted him to try harder, see what it took to make T'rid scream bloody murder. Maybe groping him would cause him to screech? A nice, deep kiss? So many possibilities, so little time; he strongly suspected he was going to get bitten soon enough. Bitten or kicked or something. Not that K'lir much cared. Pain just meant he'd been successful, and he would have quite the blackmail material to lord over T'rid... starting with an intimate knowledge of his anatomy. Evil? Oh, yes. Yes he was.

The hiss in response to his actions just made him snuggle closer against T'rid, not at all ashamed. It could have been worse; he could have been under the blankets, skin on skin, and part of him regretted that slight mercy... but then, he was in R'non's weyr, and if the older bronzerider returned, there'd be the perfect opportunity to scandalize him, too. Small sacrifices had to be made for the greater amusement good. He was willing to forgo the very-intimate contact. Besides, licking seemed to have the desired effect.

Get off? "I did," K'lir replied sweetly, his tone clearly implying that he meant something other than physically removing himself from on top of T'rid's body. Lewd and suggestive, who, K'lir? Never! "As far as I remember, so did you, quite happily in fact. No reluctance whatsoever, I'm so very impressed. If I didn't know any better, I'd have mistaken you for experienced with other men. Harboring a dark secret, wingsecond? I'll have to tell S'rei; I expect he'd be grateful for the information. I'm sure that Lauranna can collaborate my story. Didn't Corinth catch Reysalth before?" Oh, he was just being decidedly nasty. Not that T'rid did not deserve it. The bronzerider could have been a little more gracious. K'lir may have been male but he was still a flight partner and from the other teenager's behavior ... before... he was certain that T'rid had no complaints at the time. In fact, he'd been quite satisfied, as far as K'lir remembered, and he was arrogant enough to believe that the other male could have no real complaints. Well, aside from his gender, but really, it wasn't like it had mattered at the time, so why should it matter now?

Leaning up slightly, K'lir moved his legs so that he was straddling T'rid's waist, though his arms remained in position against the furs. Cocking his head to the side, still leaning over T'rid, he sniffed indignantly. Several long, wispy strands of dark red brushed over the other rider's face. "If I move my arms, are you going to punch me?" he asked, the tone undeniably catty. "I think you are, so I don't see why I should let you go. I'm comfortable. How often does someone like me get to claim a bronzerider? I think I'll keep you. You're adorable. Are you always this fidgety? No wonder you don't have a weyrmate... I can't see as anyone would put up with your attitude for very long. Don't worry, I'll forgive you just this once. It's because you're positively adorable. Tell me, are you up for round two?" Oh, he was definitely going to get hit, even if T'rid lied to him... but that was okay; for a shrimp, K'lir could hit hard, too, and he had no problem punching out his wingsecond. It'd just be all the more embarrassing for him in the long run. Heh.

[Avu]

At least he's happy, Corinth noted, distinctly amused that His had forgotten to block him in his anger. GO AWAY! The snarl was not only mental, but also curled from his lips, his teeth bared as T'rid fumed. How he wanted to hit K'lir. No, not hit him - just stab him. Naturally he didn't have a knife with him now, but the next time he had a knife on hand and K'lir was alone with him, he was quite sure he could stab the man. So. Annoying! Remind you of anyone? Yes, you. Now GO AWAY! From Corinth's amused rumble, it was clear the bronze found His' predicament very amusing. Shard him, shard the entire world...how he wished his hands weren't trapped. It was sorely tempting to just knee K'lir, too, but for the fact that he couldn't really reach anywhere particularly tender. Bruise him? Possibly. Make him get off? Less probable, unfortunately.

Much. Too. Close. T'rid twitched again as K'lir snuggled down, clearly not intending to get off. Another low, irritated hiss. He wanted to flay K'lir. Or at least, if he was that determined to be feminine, he could just castrate him - and then flee. Fleeing was good. He would have loved to flee. It wouldn't have made a good impression, but Wing Drills were going to be awkward as it was with Stupid purring at all of the green dragons, being worried that he'd Chase Worm whenever she ran, and now this - T'rid was quite honestly considering demanding a wing change. (That wouldn't help with Stupid, obviously, but at least the idiot brown wouldn't be sat upon by Calistoth or something equally dreadful; and he'd have much less contact with Worm.) Running from K'lir, tempting as it was right about now, would not help, although at present second, he didn't really care.

He was momentarily confused by K'lir's reply. He'd - oh. The flash of confusion was replaced by another snarl, T'rid grinding his teeth together in fury. "You know exactly what I mean, and that isn't it!" he hissed, his eyes narrowing. The Greenrider couldn't honestly be this stupid, although he wouldn't put it past him to be that obsessed with sex. "Tell S'rei whatever you want, I don't care, just get away from me!" He emphasized that by trying to squirm out from under K'lir again, to scant success. Scorchit. (Besides, it wasn't like S'rei would believe such a far-fetched story, right? Right.) Lauranna, though - he probably would believe what she said (unless he, unlike most people, it seemed, actually knew that their sisters were not the sweet innocent little dears they seemed to be). That only made him thrash all the harder, though, already imagining the satisfaction that punching K'lir would bring. "Never mind who Corinth's Chased!" he snarled. I liked Reysalth. I DIDN'T. /What/ a surprise.

...and now he was being straddled by K'lir. T'rid hissed inarticulately, although the hiss was quite eloquent. Talking. He was talking. ...punch him? "No, I won't punch you, I'll just bolt," he responded sardonically, "find my knife, and then perhaps I'll come back." Having K'lir's hair draped over his face was not helping; nor was being called 'adorable'. The Bronzerider jerked his face sideways - at least he still retained free movement of his neck - and was pleased to note that he was no longer being tickled by the sharding hair. "I am not up for 'round two', so wouldn't you Sharding get off before I'm tempted to strangle you!" Not that he wasn't tempted already, he thought viciously, although he didn't deign to mention it. Corinth twitched in alarm from wherever he was - most probably seven weyrledges down, sunning on his own lovely place. It wouldn't make a good impression if you killed a Wingrider. Does it honestly seem like I'd /care/, Corinth? There was a dubious pause, and then - I'm coming down. /That/ should make a lovely change.

As he'd said, Corinth landed lightly on the weyrledge bordering Rath's a second later, dipping his head with a croon of greeting towards Calistoth. It probably wouldn't be best to disturb her by claiming a position on Rath's weyrledge for time being. May I join you, Calistoth? Whether he'd come for T'rid's safety or K'lir's was questionable, since if T'rid did hurt K'lir, no doubt Calistoth would try to...avenge K'lir. Which would end up in Corinth's being hurt, which was not good. But then, Corinth had never particularly liked it when people were hurt very badly.

[neeuqtar]

I am not landing on my Weyrledge. R'non snarled. He had been having a VERY bad day. Most (all) of it was Rath's fault, and the dragon's orneriness was really beginning to irk the bronzerider. Or would have, except that he had passed way beyond "irk," into "towering rage."

Why on Faranth's sharding golden egg NOT?? he yelled at the bronze, who only tucked his head under his wing, content to spend the rest of however long it took Calistoth to forget him on the isolated mountain ridge he and R'non had hidden on so long ago. Fuming, R'non hiked the rest of the way up to his ledge. The presence of the green who was the ultimate cause of his problems on his weyrledge did not go unnoticed. He glared at the green dragon, then froze suddenly at the sounds of conversation coming out of his wyer. Calistoth + angry-sounding-man = bad bad things.

The bronzerider rubbed his temples, rage draining out and leaving him just... tired. He was very tempted just to turn and walk off of his weyrledge. But, with his luck, he'd just land in the river and get the wind knocked out of him. Drowning didn't sound nearly as simple of a way to die as hitting the ground after a long fall. With a sigh, R'non saluted Calistoth and walked inside. He paused at his doorway, then flung open the door. The sight that greeted his eyes was only about half as bad as he had imagined.

Mostly because he'd imagined two, not one, naked men, in his furs. The fact that his entire room was ransacked only struck him a couple moments after the image of K'lir's naked butt burned itself into his retinas. He's not nearly as dark as H'krel. R'non shook the thought away, just as Rath sent the inevitable query. I'm not talking to you, remember? he reminded the dragon. Rath snorted and shifted, spreading his wings to catch dying rays of light. R'non put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the scene in his rooms. Sleeping in those furs was clearly not an option, but he was tired.

He also had the insane urge to mess with T'rid. It hadn't really been that long ago that he had been consistently ribbed about H'krel, after all, and Benden ribbing was quite... dangerous. Maybe it was just the urge to spread a little bit of the hate, but he was quite willing to do so. "T'rid!" R'non said in mock-surprise. "I wasn't aware that you and K'lir were such... good friends," he smirked at the duo. "Why don't I just leave you two here, and come back in the morning. I'll just sleep in one of the extra weyrs."

[glamourie]

... He just didn't get it, did he? The more he twitched, the more upset he was, the more it amused K'lir and thus the less inclined to cooperate in any imaginable manner he was. As a rule, K'lir was an exceptionally difficult individual; it wasn't exactly hard to deduce, either. Part of him took a sadistic glee in how bothered T'rid was, too, since in his experience, the bronzerider seemed to think it was perfectly okay to rub discomfort in other people's faces. He was very fond of you get what you give logic (which was why, despite his questions, K'lir didn't really mind getting hit; he was perfectly capable and willing to take it exactly as he dished it). Apparently, T'rid didn't have a big enough pair to take it exactly as he dished it out, though. That was funny --- and it elevated him to number one on K'lir's to torture list. The more angry he got, the more inclined K'lir would be to deliberately make him uncomfortable. Considering the greenrider was near-shameless, he was pretty sure that his wingsecond would not be able to do anything to actually upset him either. He could bruise him, but that was about it, and if he actually hurt him, Calistoth would eat his face. Always a comforting notion.

Boo hoo, the more flustered T'rid got, the more amused he found himself and he couldn't help but cock his head to the side. He did not for one second believe that the bronzerider would not attempt to attack him if he released him. In fact, the way that T'rid was behaving only emphasized the concept to him and he shrugged before sprawling himself quite comfortably on top of him. His arms remained in place, but it was clear he was making himself extraordinarily comfortable and had no intentions of going anywhere.

Corinth's arrival, however, was a distant awareness in the back of K'lir's mind, sparked by Calistoth lifting her head and twitching her tail in agitation. She eyed the bronze critically before replying in what was an undeniably icy tone, No. If I have to rip my claws through Yours, I don't want you getting in the way. He would do well to remember that I have no hesitation in tearing him to bits if he so much as bruises Lirmine. He should be grateful; he won't be the one in pain for days like Lirmine is. Yours is making me very mad, Corinth, and it is rarely wise to make me mad. That she answered at all was a miracle, as most of her was tempted to move inside and roar straight in the bronzerider's face. K'lirHers was amused but she was not. She had no tolerance for stupidity. In her opinion, he should have been glad to have been Flown, instead of acting like Hers was not good enough. The arrogant little twit didn't deserve to be Flown at all. He was the one not good enough. Make him stop or I will make him wish he was never hatched. I can do it. The bronze noisemaker listens to me.

"You might want to stop threatening me, T'rid; Calistoth is considering mangling you, Corinth, or both," K'lir commented slyly, but he meant the warning with no small amount of sincerity. Under normal circumstances he could keep his green in check but if T'rid actually hurt him, he was spiteful enough not to completely try. Sad, but true. "You are over-reacting, handsome. It's not like anyone else is --"

-- here. Unspoken as Calistoth relayed R'non's arrival and his devious glee was slightly lessened as he warned her to calm herself; calm herself and stop snapping at Corinth who probably did not deserve it. The additional needling that the older bronzerider offered was amusing, but K'lir was not in the mood to share; his plaything, not R'non's. He scowled, then looked up before letting his gaze quite deliberately sweep over the older man before smiling in what could easily be described as wicked amusement. "Oh, no, bronzerider; we're not so close as to keep you out. You are completely welcome to join us," he purred; his needling was not selective nor personal. "If you're not too old to keep up with us, that is."

Scratch that. He clearly wants to be killed. Growling, Calistoth flopped over onto her side and twitched her tail irritably. Do not let Yours hurt him badly. If he is mangled I will be upset. Hmph.

[Avu]

T'rid was quite seriously considering throwing himself off of a Weyrledge as soon as he got K'lir off of him. Yes, that was how humiliated he was right about now. Corinth found it highly amusing, perhaps, but his life did not revolve around how satisfied Corinth was (luckily), or he'd be standing upside down and turning flips. He was, unfortunately, affected by the bronze's emotions to the point where he was slightly tempted to start laughing - while the other side of him (the dominant side) opted to stay angry. Needless to say, this confusing mix of emotions was not helping him at all - his mood was growing worse and he wasn't thinking quite straight. Perhaps he might have stopped to try to think it over before reacting, since quite obviously demanding things of K'lir was not getting him very far, had Corinth not chosen to pipe up precisely at that moment. Aren't you /glad/ I Chased, T'ridmine? You and K'lir seem to be getting along /so/ well. Back to raging internally.

The internal raging only grew worse as K'lir decided to sprawl all over him again - and he still couldn't get free. K'lir seemed to be highly enjoying himself - he obviously didn't do this very often. If he'd known the Greenrider adored humiliating Bronzeriders, T'rid would have dragged Corinth off to Blossom Hold at once. No, he didn't like Gathers, but Gather was a better option than this. The Bronzerider hissed through his teeth, which were bared despite his attempts not to snarl at K'lir. Calling Stupid to attack the Greenrider seemed a very good idea, but unfortunately, T'rid was wholly aware that more likely than not, the stupid little brown 'mandyr would plunge right towards the Weyrledge, to Calistoth and, therefore, to a certain death that he seemed unable to appreciate. He felt the brown 'mandyr stir at the thought of Calistoth, and then a question: Pretty? NO! NOT pretty. STAY. Whether or not Stupid would listen was beyond him, but it couldn't be helped. Unfortunately.

Corinth flicked his tail, torn between amusement and irritation at Calistoth's obviously angry response. Oh, dear. Be as that may, I'd rather not let him get shredded, he pointed out quietly. But if you don't want me to share the Weyrledge, I'm quite satisfied where I am. It wasn't so very far from where His and Calistoth's was anyway. He could potentially grab T'rid if he reacted quickly enough. Possibly. Besides, he really didn't need to make Calistoth want to bite his head off as she probably would put thoughts into actions and he preferred himself with head intact, thank you very much. I can try to make him stop; whether or not he'll listen to me is doubtful, he added, amusement flickering across his eyes. The dragon paused, blinking as he digested the last piece of information. Bronze noisemaker? ...sure. Whatever. T'ridmine, stop please, before Calistoth decapitates either of us. Stop what? Stop trying to get K'lir off of me? Er. Yes. NO.

Well, he hadn't really expected it to work anyways.

T'rid was spared answering K'lir's warning by the door opening and R'non coming in. At first, a surge of relief. Surely R'non would take his part and get K'lir off of him? The Sharding greenrider was - oh. Faranth, he had to be kidding...T'rid, as well as he could from his very awkward position, stared at R'non, at first in surprise and then in growing anger, eyes darkening, but of course, he seemingly was not allowed to get a word in edgeways, for K'lir was already answering. And um. Teasing R'non. Well, it was preferable to the Greenrider teasing him, naturally. Well, he might as well - You do realize you're only encouraging him when you fight back, don't you? Corinth observed. ...am I? Just don't let him bother you. Is that possible? ...and /you/ said you were an actor... Oh. Right. Of course. Well.

The bronze dragon dropped his head to the stone weyrledge, muzzle and foreclaws dangling from the edge as he regarded Calistoth solemnly. He will not hurt Yours, he promised. If he does, /I'll/ be upset with him, too. If K'lir was hurt, who would bother T'ridhis later, after all? Simple logic.