Practice makes.. it worse [ Avu ]

[rii]

What the--

F'lix thrashed against the arms restraining him so.. effectively. If he would just remain calm he may have found a way to free himself, or knock them both into the river. Yet, being fueled by his anger that raged at being blind-sided and held from behind, F'lix jerked and twisted much like a frenzied animal--giving his captor quite the handful. Only when his anger subsided (relatively quick, his temper flared and plummeted in the span of a heartbeat at times) F'lix relaxed to catch his breath, gold eyes downcast to stare vacantly at the water. Only then did he notice the red tinge swirling in the calm eddy, slowly making a trail away from him toward the main current.

A coldness settled over him, muscles tensing, F'lix angled his head further down to try and look at himself. He hadn't felt any pain, still didn't, but sure enough he saw the gash in his shirt. The cut traced just under his navel to the point of his left hip. He couldn't gauge the damage done, and with his hands hanging limply in the air, he couldn't do more than glance at it. And then the voices brought him back to the situation and F'lix twisted his head a bit to get a look at his captor---and promptly began to go for a second round of thrashing. Not quite as wild as his initial reaction but F'lix tried his best to put distance between his body and F'ur's. Gah! Not good. Where the hell had he come from? Too close! And to catch F'lix soaked, clothes clinging to his slender body, F'lix felt quite naked. Damnit, it wasn't fair. But he refused to get flustered over his new predicament, that damn man would probably get a kick out that.

Then R'ahre's voice cut in and F'lix body instantly stilled, going lax as he honed in on the youngest man present. He stood peacefully in the awkward positioning, fingers flexing as he calmly waited (for the moment) to be released so he could fly at the cocky weyrling. He didn't need Saboth's help to take other out. Oh no. And it didn't matter F'lix had no weapon in hand or leathers on. He didn't fear getting hurt. Wounds would heal. Oh how he wanted F'ur to let him go--let him rip the younger male apart. F'lix feet were posed, subtly, in such a way to launch the moment he felt any sort of slack in F'ur's arms.

Saboth, on the other hand, lazily laid back down and laid his head on the grass..

[Requiem]

"Maybe it's not your claws we should be worrying about," F'ur commented to F'lix, as he noticed the blood. The older bluerider did, indeed, have to struggle to hold onto the squirmy Bendenite, but he didn't count that as a negative, really. Especially in consideration of spreading crimson puddles. Energy was good. F'ur didn't trust the other enough to release him and examine the wound, though he did cast a sidelong glance at R'ahre as the weyrling started commanding him. Oh, honestly.

Some days, he really missed Fort. Weyrlings didn't talk down to full riders there, no matter how 'lowly' the color dragon they rode (and, anyway, F'ur only saw blues here), especially not ones with as much more experience as the eldest of the three commanded. His wiry form hidden even beneath the sodden clothing, F'ur still managed to convey something like disdain in the thrust of a hip to one side, regarding R'ahre from beneath his lashes.

"Hmmm. An interesting proposition." His hands unclasped, sliding down to cross F'lix's chest and pull him snuggly back against F'ur. He peered around the head of the slightly shorter male at the tall kid and wrinkled his nose slightly. "Although I really don't see what's in it for me, aside from a little amusement. After all, I've claimed his blood as mine. Would be a shame if someone else managed to kill him first by a random stroke of luck."

Whether that was true or not was hard to say. He did have a bloodfeud with the man, no doubt there, but there were other ways to exact turns worth of vengeance that didn't necessarily involve death. (He wasn't exactly off to a bad start, either, was he?) "You're going to have to do a little better than that, kid," he added, just in case R'ahre was a bit slow on the uptake. As if F'ur was about to be ordered around by a child half his age. Utterly ludicrous.

"Hey, kitten. You really think he's worth the effort?" F'ur murmured the words for F'lix's ears only.

[Avu]

Oh, look. Blood.

R’ahre’s gaze caught the torn shirt, the cut beneath, and then flickered automatically towards the water, where the rusty-colored swirls were already dying from view. His blade was clean, most likely because he’d plunged it into the water when he was getting out of the river, and the cut wasn’t as effective as he might have liked (courtesy of F’ur, mostly; he hadn’t the time to make it deeper or painful enough for F’lix to have to move), but hey. It was still blood. His lips twitched sideways thoughtfully. Any other time, he would have been content with first blood, but this was different. Did F’ur have to have chosen to drop in at that moment? Annoying. Another thirty seconds and R’ahre was sure that F’lix would have been off of him, unless he liked being gutted. Either way was good for him.

He wasn’t going to let him go. Eyes narrowed slightly, but R’ahre straightened, both hands lowering before he replaced one of the dirks to his belt, his freed hand rising to brush impatiently at his hair. Probably fortunate for him (though he’d never admit it) that F’ur didn’t release F’lix on him; lack of oxygen was never good, and as it happened, R’ahre wasn’t good as far as water went. Oh, he could swim, but he didn’t like it and therefore he’d never learned how to hold his breath properly, and currently, he wanted to just flop back and catch his breath again. Certainly not a good way to start out a battle of any kind, let alone one with a clearly experienced fighter. The other blade dropped, too, and he rubbed the flat of it against his leg absently. Wet. Wet was bad. He’d have to dry both of them properly later, hmph. One hand ran down the front of his shirt as he considered both F’ur and F’lix, shedding excess water, before he shrugged, turning to look in the direction of the Weyr proper. Ahth was probably already back in the Weyrling Barracks; the hatchling was ridiculously fast and graceful considering how clumsy hatchlings were supposed to be. Well, fine. If Ahth was fine, then he’d leave it. For the moment, anyway.

“Fine,” he said softly. One word, his voice receding from the venomous snarl into his normal quiet tones. The dirk remained out – namely because he didn’t want F’lix to know where he kept it; he was pretty sure that the bluerider hadn’t been paying attention when he was twisting around trying to get a hold on it. His nose crinkled slightly at F’lix, and he moved, sloping past both blueriders towards the Weyr again, following a path almost exactly parallel to Ahth’s. He doubted F’ur was planning on gluing himself permanently to F’lix; he could wait until the other bluerider was out of the way. Let F’lix underestimate him if he wanted to; it would be his loss. His palm twitched slightly, and he glanced down at it, almost surprised to see the bruise forming – along with a slight scuff where his hand had caught against one of the river’s rocks. Not bleeding, but still annoying.

“Have fun in the Infirmary.” The words came out of their own accord just as he passed F’ur and F’lix in the direction of the Weyr, brown eyes flicking up at both blueriders and then back to the Weyr. Softly, he spoke, without a hint of venom or sarcasm. No good hating F’lix now, not when he couldn’t do anything. Although…he was annoyed. He was wet; he had to change, and by that time the Drudges probably would have stalked him down. Yuck. R’ahre’s head tilted slightly, and his path was altered almost imperceptibly so he could watch keep both blueriders in his gaze. He hadn’t before namely because Sylph had been looking for him. The green was gone now. As was Ahth. They were safe; he wasn’t…that made him priority now. What a nice change.

[]

[rii]

Was it bad that F'lix felt flattered that F'ur wanted to personally kill him?

Stubbornly F'lix angled his body away from the older man so that only his shoulders pressed back into his chest. It put him in poor footing, but F'lix had abandoned the hope F'ur might release him. At least F'lix had stopped struggling and resorted to silently seething. A rather comical sight, soaking wet with long black bangs plastered to his face. He would almost look adorable in a sulk if not for the malice in his eyes; thin golden slits fixated completely on R'ahre. F'lix would have to re-think his methods for this one. Selenitas did not allow maiming or murdering of others, regardless of their obnoxious self-grandeur. But exactly how to get revenge, other than killing a person, was an unfamiliar task.

At F'ur's private words, F'lix exhaled deeply--seeming to deflat as his head tucked down to his chest. No, he knew R'ahre was not worth the effort, but it didn't change the urge to slit the weyrling's throat. That satisfaction would not be enough to accept being banished from the Weyr either. So F'lix had a temper problem. Honestly, he would be fine if people didn't find some idiotic amusement in taunting him; knowing he can do very little in retaliation without suffering more dire consequences.

F'lix reached up and gently pulled at F'ur's hands in a silent request to be released. He was calm enough to not launch himself at R'ahre and gouge his eyes out. At least he was, until the prat had to spit out one last thing before walking away. Arrogant little--without realizing it F'lix had dug his fingers into F'ur's hands. His jaw clenched as he bit back his retort. No, it was over. No need to kick the corpse.

Saboth's tail twitched, offering to knock R'ahre back into the water. F'lix chest swelled as he mentally weighed the option, at least for a laugh. He eventually let the air go in one sharp exhale and lightly shook his head. As soon as the weyrling was out of ear-shot F'lix brought a fist down to hit F'ur's upper thigh--nothing hard or bearing any anger. Just a physical reminder that he wanted F'ur to let go.

You should thank him.

What!? Why?

I don't like to see you hurt, but more so he prevented you from getting in trouble. Do I have to remind you we have no other Weyr to go to?

His motives have nothing to do with that. That detail just happens to be in our favor. F'lix wiped the bangs out of his face, the action laced with unmasked irritation. He would not thank the man! Never. The younger blue rider grumbled to himself and lifted the bottom of his shirt to expose his lower abdomen and prob gently around the slashed skin. It was deeper than he thought but nothing of real concern. Certainly not enough to merit a visit to the infirmary, at least as long as he kept it clean. He had some bandages back in his room.. now if only F'ur would just let him go so he could make an escape.

[Requiem]

For his own part, F'ur wasn't terrible at ignoring pain, either. He hardly even noticed the fingers digging into his hands, though that might have had more to do with the hatching of nasty little plots in the bluerider's mind. As far as humiliation went, F'ur was no neophyte. Far from it. It was, in a way, a matter of survival when it came right down to it. Being small and Impressing to a blue put F'ur at an immediate disadvantage, so he'd had to make up for it by being twice as smart and deadly as the bronzeriders strutting around. Fort didn't condone open fighting, but there were still power struggles and it was dangerous in its own ways. F'ur had found that completely humiliating others to the point that they didn't test him - and doing so in ways that suggested it was entirely accidental - was a rather effective method. (It was either that or hop furs, and F'ur was no one's bitch.)

Unfortunately for R'ahre, the child had managed to annoy F'ur enough in just the brief exchange that the bluerider wouldn't mind assuaging his boredom by making the weyrling miserable. It really wasn't all that difficult to be polite, after all; everyone was just pretending, anyway. How much effort did it really take?

"Though I can see where a man might be tempted to drown him," F'ur commented cheerfully, flashing a smile and a jaunty wave at the weyrling, just in case R'ahre actually bothered to look back. He would have released F'lix right then had not the man decided it was the perfect time to thump him in the thigh. So demanding, the scrappy kitten. "Now, now. Who said you were allowed to grope?" F'ur quipped, pushing F'lix forward with enough strength and suddenness to catch most people off balance, which he trailed with a cuff to the Bendenite's ear.

"Behave yourself."

With that, he turned and, thrusting his hands deep in his pockets, F'ur padded lightly through the shallows of the river, apparently finding it amusing to walk ankle-deep in water rather than stick to the shore like the average sane person.