Relax & Rewind [Open]

[irbre]

Tenmor shifted restlessly, eyes fixed unblinkingly on his feet. It was a nice day, of course. It always seemed to be a nice day here. The sun was warm and soft on his back while a cool breeze swirled up off of the river. Moisture beaded on his skin, partly because of the humid atmosphere and partly because he was sweating. He moved his hands forward, shaking off the clinging sand and the numb feeling that so often accompanied sitting still for too long. He continued to watch the water swirling around his feet, blinking slowly, content to sit still for awhile longer. He knew there were chores to do, and a good many at that.

With a soft sigh he straightened, leaning back and tilting his head to the sky, blinking quickly as the sun caught him full in the face. His hand rose to finger the leather wrapped around his throat, the red bright as blood in the sunlight. It brought back bittersweet memories, of times when life had been simple. Even now he could remember his days at Benden, before the 'incident'. His mother, always smiling and warm, his father stolid and caring. That all had ended, of course. Tenmor stirred more restlessly, pulling his feet out of the water, all-too-aware of the cold of the water and the sheen of sweat on his face.

He forced his mind away from the depressing past, focusing on the present. Of course, matters in the present weren't all that cheerful either. In his biased mind, Benden was behind it all. Everything was panic and chaos underneath the tightly-stretched surface of calm and peace. It couldn't last, of course, however much Tenmor wished it. Spitting bitterly to the said, he sent his thoughts away again, focusing on the river before him, watching the shifting swirls of color, deep blues and crystal whites, all blending flawlessly together. A smile quirking his lips, he thought of what it would be like to be something simple and unfeeling, always cheery. A firelizard, maybe. They always seemed to be happy and carefree.

He cast a furtive look around, tempted to act like a flitt. Of course, such things were foolish, but he couldn't help but desire to try them nonetheless. He leapt spryly to his feet, brushing sand off himself. After a moment's thought, though, he decided against it. It was down right silly to run around like an idiot, acting like a winged, over-eager creature. Even he wouldn't subject himself to such humiliation. Snorting lightly, Tenmor cast a glance at the water again. It was warm, that was blatantly obvious. Surely a swim wouldn't go amiss?

This time he didn't bother to look before he casually stripped himself of his tunic. He lacked the tenacity to take off his breeches, but didn't mind it anyways, knowing that the heat would dry him off fairly quickly. The afternoon was wearing steadily on, the heat increasing even as he stayed on the beech. Huffing to himself he waded into the water, let his breath out in a sharp hiss. It was a bit colder than he had first thought. Steeling himself he dove forward, disappearing quickly beneath the placid, shimmering water, only to reemerge at the other side of the swimming area, spraying water in all directions.

[Requiem]

"I don't think they ever found out," Mutasim murmured softly to Jabari. The brown firelizard was now adult size, and quite conspicuous as he quite literally draped himself around the candidate's shoulders. Crooning quietly, Jabari nuzzled his humanpet's neck. The slaying of Trenlor as the dragonhealer terrorized his candidate captive and systematically beat the stuffing out of the Weyrleader had been overshadowed by all that had happened the day of Threadfall. Mutasim had no love for Auryn, truly. It was no twisted sense of loyalty that had caused him to act. He simply despised men like Trenlor. And S'rei seemed completely incapable of doing what had to be done. To say that the small candidate had no respect for the Weyrleader was probably mild. Weakness...was not something Muta understood. The Bitran survivor would never be so foolish as to expect an enemy to act with honor. Especially a man from Benden who had ridden a bronze. And with S'rei and Salenth's history at Benden, it made the man seem like a dimglow at the very least.

The boy of sixteen turns trudged along the bank of Selenitas river. Chores and lessons had been discharged for the day. After two bouts of the same lessons, he'd more or less skipped most of them this third time around, anyway. Mutasim had the sort of memory that could dredge up what had been said verbatim at whim. Though the darkness that always seemed to surround the candidate was still there, he'd softened somewhat since he came to Selenitas. That much was obvious in how he spoke of things like this aloud to Jabari, heedless of who might be close enough to listen. Or maybe it was the firelizard that had softened him?

Narna had left with the death of N'vis. For a moment, Mutasim had almost felt regret, but then the familiar anger arose. Why she insisted on bringing attention again and again to the rape, he had no idea. It was not an easy thing to deal with. In a moment of weakness, he had offered her comfort directly following the assault. She never seemed to recover, though, wallowing in self-pity, and his patience had grown strained. In all truth, it was probably the subject matter that had him on edge, rather than her refusal to heal, but regardless, he'd avoided her for tenday upon tenday. Now she was gone. Things were...unsettled at Selenitas. Somehow, it frightened him more than the streets of Bitra had. Selenitas cast the illusion of peace upon a mind. At least with Bitra you had no illusions.

That same illusion brought him upon the other candidate his own age, Mutasim grinding to a halt as he realized he was walking in plain view of the lad. Muta was not a sociable sort. His friends were few. Z'hin. Narna. Gina. No others. And Z'hin was struggling with his own demons right now...Narna was gone forever. As for Gina? He'd more or less used her naivety to keep his scars and his past a secret. The term 'friend' might be just a bit too generous in her case.

Yes, he had softened.

His dark eyes narrowed, instantly recognizing his fellow candidate, though they'd had little contact. This one wasn't as annoying as some. He tended to keep to himself, though not as fastidiously as Mutasim. The Bitran fugitive cut a small figure, he did, but a masculine one, at that. And a flashy one. Unlike those who wore all the wild colors to catch attention, though, Muta donned them to warn people away. He was distinctive with his dark skintone, his tiny stature and strange dress. Add Jabari to that, who rarely left the boy's shoulders, and Mutasim could easily be identified and marked as one to avoid long before newcomers ever came within notice of the lad. He liked it that way.

It was obvious the other would see him. How could he not? Mutasim wanted to speak to Z'hin. Z'hin wasn't available. Most of him wanted to continue his walk and ignore the other lad, but a small part suggested that maybe he should do...something...Since he didn't know what that something could possibly be, Mutasim simply found himself rooted to the spot, drilling the boy he recalled as Tenmor with his unwavering gaze. Tenmor. Sounded a lot like Trenlor, didn't it? The small smile that briefly stole over the candidate's face was as chill as river water fed by snowmelt, and darker than the darkest night.

[irbre]

Mind set on the past and other matters, Tenmor hardly noticed the new presence until a good deal after he had arrived. The water was comfortable, the sun warm, his numerous cares and worries discarded into the back corner of his mind, a corner he had sadly been occupying too much as of late. Events had become...complicated. Especially now. Weyrling deaths, and Benden rider's were responsible? Tenmor's lip curled up in disgust and he let a small hiss escape his clenched teeth. No, he had told himself that he would not worry about such things, not now. It was not for a lowly Candidate to worry about. Such complex matters were for the high-ranking people of the Weyr, more specifically, the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader.

Still brooding and dwelling on darker thoughts, Tenmor tilted his head up, blinking rapidly when he saw another figure on the bank. It was hard to ignore a person who wore such eye-burningly bright clothing, after all. The clothes alone led Tenmor to know immediately who it was, but there was also that shadowed nature, one he didn't particularly care for, and the ever-so-common presence of the brown flitt. Mutasim was shorter than Tenmor himself; boyish, in fact. Although he paid attention upon occasion, Tenmor didn't know exactly how old Mutasim was. For all he knew, the other's boyish appearance could have well been a farce.

Tenmor righted himself warily, searching his memory for more about the boy. He could be astute, at times, but this one always escaped him. Withdrawn and isolated, that was the only way Tenmor could describe Mutasim. Along with that he was pessimistic and cold, as the flickering smile told him. The smile wasn't pleasant, that was for sure, and Tenmor didn't particularly enjoy having it directed at him. Still, it was company, and it was best to treat the other Candidate as such.

With languid calm Tenmor paddled closer to Mutasim, stopping when his feet could brush the sandy bottom. The occasional swirl of the river current swept the granules out from under his feet, his feet sinking. He relished the feeling, actually, as the sand rose up around his feet and swelled between his toes. Still, comfort was not the issue of the moment. Tenmor looked at Mutasim, giving his characteristically genial smile, if somewhat morose. He wondered vaguely it Mutasim thought him a fool, but dismissed such thoughts immediately. It really didn't matter, did it?

"And how are you today, Mutasim?" Tenmor asked after a few more moments of quiet, words slow and concise. The smile was still there on his lips but it had faded somewhat, sucked away by that brief, wicked smile. Arms fanning to keep himself steady, Tenmor took a step forward onto higher ground, pulling his feet free of the sinking sand. He felt awkward making conversation with Mutasim, however trivial. He knew full well that he failed at starting such conversations yet even he would become lonely after awhile. The slightest bit of conversation did a great deal to spark his interest, and the fact that Mutasim was a relative unknown to him did even more to spark his curiosity.

[mangotango]

His steps were aimless. He could hear running water, and hoped it was the river he'd been told about. Alviar was lost. It was a pleasant kind of lost, and he couldn't actually say he didn't enjoy it. He'd never been lost at home. He'd gotten turned around in the mines more then once, but that was different. There he was so frightened that it hurt when his heart beat, and he strained every sense at his disposal searching for a way out. A breath of wind, a flash of light, or the hollow echo of picks digging into the rock could lead him home. There it was technically possible (though unlikely) that he'd starve to death before he was rescued or found his own way out. Being lost here wasn't like that at all. The sun shone brightly and there was enough air and light and warmth. And more people then there had been in the twisting passages. Even if he got hurt someone would find him. So he smiled at the world and tried to whistle.

The Weyr was everything he'd dreamed of. Physically, anyway. The few people he'd interacted with in his time here seemed to not be as happy as he'd anticipated. The fact that there might be unhappy people was a dose of reality that Alviar wasn't quite prepared to accept just yet. He must have just caught them at a bad time.

He ran his fingers through his hair. His neck was sweating under the length of it, and he was starting to itch. Perhaps he wouldn't get a sunburn, at the moment it hardly seemed worth it. Shouldn't it get cooler the closer to the water? That seemed to make more sense. Unfortunately, it seemed the temperature was not interested in what made sense to Alviar.

When he reached the river, he nearly walked into it. He'd been distracted by a passing bird of an undetermined variety. Alviar put all of himself into everything he did. And when that force was not being applied to anything in particular... Few people could be as purposefully aimless as Alviar. It was a special skill. Still, he was at the water now. A drink from it would be nice, but where he stood it was too muddy.

Alviar then displayed his ignorance. Logically, if he'd wanted a clear drink he should have gone upstream. Instead he turned and walked downstream, not thinking that the current would carry the silt with it for quite awhile downstream.

Still, perhaps luck was with him. Or fate. Something like that, anyway. He hadn't gone far when he noticed other people. He grinned widely and hurried along, slipping occasionally on the soft sand. It had a habit of sliding down from under his foot and into the water if he strayed too close to the bank. It didn't bother him though. Perhaps if he actually lost his balance and fell in, it would matter.

"Greetings!" Alviar burst into the scene with all the dignity of an excited puppy and social grace comparable to a large herdbeast in a small stall made of glass. The rather strained feeling in the air wasn't even noticed. He took in the scene at face value only- the bright colors of Mutasim, the fact that Tenmor was still in the river. Some would find it odd that the young man didn't get out of the water to greet someone else might have struck others as odd. People with a more discerning nature would probably have edged away from Mutasim. Alviar's gaze locked on the firelizard, however. "Wow! He's very pretty!" No, he wasn't. Not pretty, anyway. Handsome would probably have been a better word to use.

After a long moment, Alviar realized he hadn't even introduced himself. He took a mental step back, adjusting his mind a bit more clearly. "Forgive me." He spoke to include Tenmor as well, shifting his stance to face the area between them (and thus hopefully both of them). "That was impolite. I am Alviar. I hope I did not interrupt anything." No, barging up and complimenting someone without a word of introduction or explanation was not interrupting at all!

Still, the smile that lifted his thin lips was sincere. He was sure that, since he'd asked forgiveness, they were sure to forgive. The idea that they might not actually want him around didn't come up.

[Requiem]

Whatever his ever-present inner voice had intended, Tenmor was now making his way toward the bank. Mutasim's hand strayed to Jabari's skull absently, stroking the brown firelizard in a careless sort of way that nevertheless came across as tender - if one could get past the decidedly predatory glint in his gaze. His upbringing left him distrusting. The details of his not-so-distant past had turned a naturally wary and cynical creature into something that was one step away from being entirely inhuman. It was this face that he invariably showed all near-strangers, and that was likely the reason that they remained strangers.

A killer's thoughts were at the forefront of his mind, though it didn't seem to bother Jabari any. The brown merely crooned and snuggled still closer to his bonded. He couldn't help but think about how easy it would be to walk up and slit the boy's throat, leisurely as you please, while Tenmor struggled to regain his balance in the sands. Normally, Mutasim didn't cross into that realm of his mind unless he perceived a threat, but his association of Tenmor with Trenlor, unfair as it might have been, put him firmly in that mindset. He blinked at the sound of the other candidate's voice, his hand pausing in its motion, before resuming its earlier course.

"Alive," he responded dryly, baring his teeth in the semblance of a grin, however there was something distinctly feral about it. No joy, in that expression. In Bitra, his den would have laughed at such an answer. In Bitra, such an answer was extraordinarily appropriate. If you were alive, it was a good day.

Jabari's head lifted to regard this newcomer, dipping back down to its earlier position after a few seconds. As a rule, the candidate was fairly impassive, but you could venture a good guess as to his moods by watching the brown firelizard. Mutasim didn't find Tenmor to be any sort of threat. Now that left a new challenge. What was he to do? The stubborn side of Mutasim refused to allow him to end the conversation there. He'd committed to this encounter by answering Tenmor at all. "Swimming," the candidate commented. It obviously wasn't a question. Another moment passed as the small young man, a dark shadow of whiskers lurking on an otherwise boyish face, searched for something else to say. "Is it...fun...?" He stumbled over that last word, not entirely sure if he could really discern just what fun was.

The sound of a herdbeast crashing through the foliage along the riverbank drew Mutasim's gaze to the source. No. Not a herdbeast. This man was tall and solid, and most certainly older than the two of them. A candidate, or so it would seem, but Mutasim had never seen him before. Either he was new, or Benden was up to more of its tricks. Though there was no visible change in Muta, a strange stillness had settled over the boy. Oh, he'd been motionless before, aside from the fingers moving along Jabari's head. They still moved absently. It would be hard, truly, to pinpoint the difference, but it was there nonetheless. A casual stillness had quite clearly given way to something far more tense.

The smallest of the candidates along the river regarded this newcomer warily. Jabari had drawn himself up, also eyeing Alviar. Too...close...The man was far too close. Tall men always left Mutasim feeling distinctly nervous. At his comment, this time Muta visibly prickled. What?! Surely he was speaking of Jabari. Surely. Yet the candidate's free hand still drifted behind him, where an old and well cared for dagger nestled against the small of his back. The small one's gaze never left Alviar. He didn't respond to the man's apology, either, simply drilling him with that unwavering stare, his fingertips brushing the hilt of the dagger.

This newcomer had best not make any move to close the distance between himself and Mutasim.

[irbre]

Tenmor watched the repetitive movement of Mutasim's hand almost hypnotically, his eyes following the stroking of the brown flitt's head. He glanced at Mutasim's face, flinching backward slightly at the look those eyes held. Whatever safety he had felt had just fled, driven away by whatever wicked thoughts gleamed behind those eyes. In all truth, Tenmor didn't wish to know what the other Candidate was thinking. He shifted, suddenly all too ware of his lack of cover and maneuverability out in the water. He wasn't quite sure how such thoughts had come to his head, but they had come nonetheless and left him feeling defenseless.

The answer was simple and somewhat depressing, yet no more than Tenmor could have suspected, he supposed. The answer was appropriate but was probably more so in other places or contexts. As it was, the word left him feeling even more awkward, a feeling which was increased tenfold by the feral parody of a smile Mutasim flashed him. His growing unease only led him to want to get out of the water quicker, but he settled for a polite, if brief, nod.

What Mutasim said next, or attempted to say, surprised him. A soft, warm smile curled Tenmor's lips up. Swimming? Yes, it could be fun, but that wasn't the reason he was swimming. He took a more delicate approach, almost fearing to lose this sudden conversation point. "It is relaxing, to be sure," Tenmor said placidly, careful to keep a large amount of emotion out of his voice, even though some happiness leaked in. "It helps me forget about everything," he added with a slight sigh, shrugging his shoulders. "If you wish, you could-"

Tenmor was cut off abruptly by the snapping of foliage as something came blundering at them. Like Mutasim, his first thought was that it was a herdbeast. It reminded him distinctly of a time when his father had sent his after an errant member of the herd. An innocent, young (and somewhat foolish) Tenmor had gone bounding around looking for the beast, and had happened across it in the form of the escapee attempting to charge him down. It had sounded almost exactly like that when the herdbeast had come bursting through the undergrowth at him. Not a pleasant reminder at all.

Starting slightly, Tenmor was slow to realize that it was not, in fact, some sort of creature. It was a human. If he could guess anything, a Candidate, maybe, though one he had never seen before. Curiosity piqued, Tenmor straightened up, taking a few steps up the steep bank, the water swirling above his knees. The boy was certainly...eager. Tenmor couldn't help but arch an eyebrow at Alviar's exclamation when he saw Jabari. Either this newcomer was a dunce or very easily excited. Tenmor certainly hoped that it was the later.

Introductions first, he noted. So the other's name was Alviar. Tenmor dipped his head in reply, waiting a moment to see if Mutasim would introduce himself first. The shorter boy didn't and Tenmor took the challenge upon himself. "I am Tenmor," he finally said with a quirk of his lips. He found this boy...humorous. Of course he would never say something of the sort out loud, but the loud, brash boy was far from normal. He wondered vaguely what type of dragon one would Impress, if any. Again, he did not voice such opinions out loud. It would be considered downright rude.

[mangotango]

Alviar was not the most astute observer, but then again you didn't have to be to realize that Mutasim didn't like Alviar. All it took was the incredible stillness that seemed to settle over him like a cloak. Alviar found himself unwilling to meet his eyes, like a subservient Canine dares not look at the alpha for fear of it being mistaken for a challenge. That same kind of uneasy feeling caused Alviar to turn away slightly, looking to Tenmor for the stability in this situation. All he'd wanted to do was meet new people- perhaps at the outside of his thoughts had been making some new friends.

"Um... I don't mean to be rude, but could you please not look at me that way?" Alviar asked meekly. It was probably rude to do so, but... It was making him twitchy. He finally gave in and glanced over his shoulder. Sand, crushed foliage from his entrance, and the river. Hardly anything to warrant such intense interest. Which meant Mutasim really was looking at him that way.

Maybe it would be better if he could convince them to let him leave and come back to try this whole thing again.

Tenmor was given an apologetic look and a one shouldered shrug. Alviar would have really liked to talk to him too- he seemed very nice (at least in contrast). But trying to carry two separate conversations at the same time seemed insulting to both of them. It's not like they wouldn't know.

[Requiem]

He didn't wish. Once, he'd decided to swim in public. Once. But he couldn't hide his scars that way, and there was always someone who would ask. The last, an idiot of a girl, seemed to think that they must have had a similar past because they both had scars. Nevermind that hers were obviously the result of lashings and his were confined to neck and wrists, chafing scars. Nevermind that he spoke with the subtle northern accent, and, if you were well-versed in the sounds of northern speech, it would be obvious he was Bitran. Nevermind the stench of death and blood and despair and sorrow that clung to him so thickly he was sure it must be a clarion call. Most with a brain in their heads seemed to notice, and some with nothing at least noticed something. Not that he cared if she was ignorant. But her question drew the attention of the others, and he could tell, by their eyes, that they were much closer to the truth.

He most certainly didn't wish.

Luckily, he never had to answer the question that was never quite asked. Lucky for Tenmor, at least. Mutasim wasn't really the gentle sort when it came to conversation. A simple, brusque, "Shells, no," would likely have been his response, completely disregarding how that might effect the other candidate's feelings.

Unluckily for Alviar, the young man had captured the majority of Mutasim's attention. Gawky. Awkward. Probably a complete imbecile. All of these observations would make most people disregard him. The smallest candidate, however, viewed them as strikes against Alviar. Anything that had the potential of disarming Mutasim was something decidedly dangerous. And, of course, on a purely physical level, this newcomer far outstripped Muta. The teenager could hold his own. He knew this. But only if he was wary and avoided walking into a trap.

No, Mutasim was quite aware that this was ridiculous thinking for Selenitas. Or it should have been. Why he himself might be targeted was a mystery, but there was Trenlor and the surprise attack/execution of the senior weyrlings. Nothing could be taken for granted anymore.

Poor wherry. He seemed to be quite confused as to how to carry on a conversation with two people. Mutasim might have taken pity on him and told him flat-out that he didn't care to converse with Alviar, but then, that would be talking to him, now wouldn't it? At the older candidate's plaintive request, Muta's gaze never wavered, though the unease was by now giving way to a cruel sort of pleasure. How often had he frozen in stark fear of men like Alviar? Too often. Making one quake as he had - as he still did - appealed to Mutasim.

No, his stare didn't break. He simply waited for Alviar's eyes to find his face again, and then he smiled. It was more a splitting of the face than a smile, baring his teeth, the eyes cold, unfeeling. A growl would have fit that expression well enough, though he didn't make a sound.

[irbre]

Although Tenmor could easily tell that Alviar was getting uncomfortable, there wasn't much he could do. Trying to split a conversation two ways was awkward, especially for one such as himself. He was hardly proficient at speaking as it was and Mutasim made all conversation awkward, it seemed. Tenmor was sure that he had pretty much gotten the gist of what Mutasim's reply might have been from the look in his eyes and the shift in his posture. Of course. Not many people liked to swim anyways. Well, he hoped that was the reason, at least.

Tenmor sneaked a glance at Mutasim and noticed that his gaze had, if possible, doubled it's maleficent content considerably. Feeling more uncomfortable, Tenmor got out of the water as quickly as possible, pausing only to pull on his tunic as quickly as possible. At least they were now on the same level, relatively speaking. One taller, one shorter, and them himself, right in the middle. Was he always in the middle? Tenmor hadn't really noticed, to tell the truth. He shifted uncomfortably to his other foot, keeping his face as neutral as possible.

The way Mutasim was smiling wasn't exactly reassuring either. Tenmor didn't blame the newcomer for being uneasy. He understood the feeling far too well himself. For a moment he wondered if Mutasim was thinking of killing Alviar. Well, if he killed Alviar, why wouldn't he kill Tenmor as well for being a witness? Tenmor quickly brushed such thoughts from his mind, still watching the two with a placid expression on his face, betraying the turmoil inside his mind. He believed in the better part of people, that was for sure. He just hoped that this shone through on such an occasion.

[mangotango]

What he really needed now was a streak of brilliance. Some witty remark to pull out of the air and break the tension. He'd seen the things a quick, bright comment could do to a bad situation. Unfortunately, the mines weren't exactly the best place to pick up such skills; when you're blacker then Between from coal dust, have no idea what time it is, and every muscle you possess is sore, the mind just kind of goes numb. Even if he'd been trained as a Harper, though, Alviar was too literal minded to be able to think of the double-meanings at the drop of a hat. It was a failing that came up rarely, but it was always serious when it did.

If he threw a strip of meat at him, that might distract the younger lad long enough for him to escape... Alviar immediately recalled the unkind thought. Comparing Mutasim to an aggressive Canine wasn't a good thing to do. Besides, a smile was a smile, no matter how unnatural it seemed. That was a step in the right direction! Besides, it would be cruel to judge Mutasim on the beauty of his smile... He couldn't help being odd looking! Alviar's smile returned, a bit tentatively but putting on a brave show. Maybe Mutasim wasn't so bad. Not talking could easily be explained by being shy, and perhaps he had a bad childhood or something. No one had ever seemed to have explained to him how smiling was supposed to go. Of course, that made a lot more sense then hate on contact!

Alviar ran those arguments through his mind several times, until self-induced brain washing had quieted the instinct for self preservation.

"I'm new here." He tried to go back to the introductions. "I came from Hyphon Hold, actually. I was a miner. I mean, not a very good one. Not that I was bad, really, I just won't be missed too much. Well, my father and brother will, but the work won't suffer. And that's what's really important when it comes down to it. Where are you from, Tenmor? And... you?" That incorporated both nicely! His smile broadened, and he fell back into his normal stance, right forearm clasped in his left hand behind his back. He gazed traveled from Mutasim to Tenmor, who had now gotten out of the water for some reason.

[Requiem]

His eyes flicked to Tenmor for the briefest of moments as the candidate continued to move, a strange laxness coming to his stance. Mutasim always went lax before the attack. In a moment, his nimble mind had calculated the odds, deciding that his best bet was a couple of flung daggers and then a rather ungainly flight in the opposite direction. Who knew how many more there were? Blinking, the candidate attempted to thrust aside this thought process. Perhaps it was the fact that these were males that had him in full fight-or-flight mode. More likely, however, it had to do with the strange goings on at Selenitas, thrusting him back within himself to a time where he had been a force on the Bitran streets. It was thinking like this that had always saved him and his.

In the moment that he decided to dismiss his survival instincts, a visible change came over Mutasim's face. His expression hadn't changed in the normal sense. Even now, his eyes lingered unwaveringly upon Alviar. But, instead of the intense scrutiny that had been behind them before, they seemed to have turned inward, and there was a quiet, almost soothing darkness that clung to him now in lieu of the deadly aura. The smile faded into a frown that was somehow far more welcoming. Jabari, who had been watching both boys intently, uttered a soft creel and buried his head in Muta's neck. For the first time since Alviar arrived, the small young man made a sound.

"Hush Jabari." His fingers ran delicately along the creature's spine. The brown, pressing himself closer to Mutasim, wrapped his tail about the candidate's wrist, holding the boy's hand where it rested along Jabari's back. "You're all right," his bonded continued quietly. But he made no move to extract his arm from the firelizard's grasp. "Hush now."

Only then did Mutasim notice that he'd been foolish enough to avert his gaze from both his companions. They hadn't moved, though, since last he'd looked at them. Fortunate, that. A weariness seemed to have settled over the small candidate. Alviar was talking. Quietly, he supplied, "Mutasim." Almost curiously, he watched to see if anyone had spoken of him to this new candidate. Alviar was sure to react if they had. "It's Mutasim," he repeated, slightly louder. And then, because Tenmor hadn't spoken in the slight pause - perhaps surprised that Muta had finally broken his silence - he decided to actually answer the newcomer's question.

It should be obvious enough that he had relinquished some of his wariness, given that one of his arms was firmly tied up with Jabari. "Bitar, in the north." It was not something he told many, but enough knew that it was likely common knowledge by now. Mutasim was quite sure there were several rumors floating around about him, with varied levels of truth. That he was from Bitar was likely one of those.

[irbre]

Tenmor watched Mutasim warily, his whole body tensing when something dangerous flashed into the other Candidate's eyes. Was it death, murder, or merely contemplation, perhaps? Relief flooded him when the look disappeared, replaced by one much more calm and comfortable. Tenmor relaxed slightly, turning his attention abruptly to Alviar. The taller boy also appeared to be uneasy, though he compensated with a smile and a question that could involve both Mutasim and Tenmor himself. Tenmor paused for a moment, considering an answer. Should he?

His thought was disrupted surprisingly when Mutasim spoke, announcing his own name in a hushed tone. He repeated it and almost immediately told more, shocking Tenmor profusely. Was this a sudden change of thought and heart? Tenmor had been too busy thinking himself of how to answer while Mutasim had been having his own realization. Tenmor tilted his head slightly, listening intently. So Mutasim was from Bitra. As much as he hated to leap to conclusion and generalizations, this explained a great deal. Tenmor nodded slightly, blinking when he realized that Mutasim had finished speaking.

His turn now. Tenmor hesitated, shifting to his other foot. He could not deny it. He was ashamed of where he had come from. He had no love for Benden and never would and always sought to disassociate himself from the brutal Weyr. Tenmor took a breath, steadying his words, attempting to keep them as bland as possible. He failed, of course. "I am from Benden, originally," he said finally, biting the Weyr's name out with undisguised venom. He clapped his mouth shut, eyes narrowed and defiant, almost daring the two to say something.

He hated Benden with a passion. He despised the place to the very core of his normally pacifist being, wishing only the worst upon those from the Weyr, more specifically bronzeriders. Even after the 'incident' which had robbed him of his mother, he still had a respect for riders. He merely did not like, respect, trust, or even want to see another Benden rider, of whatever color or make. He could not forgive them and nor did he ever want to. He knew full well that many others shared this philosophy, but took little comfort in it. He was ashamed of his hate, but unable to rid himself of it. It was his burden to bare and dispose of on his own.

[mangotango]

Alviar's eyes slowly became two round "O"s. Bitra? Benden? These names were just sounds to him- sounds to be cursed under one's breath, to be denounced in outrage (but not too loudly).

Benden was half the world's down-fall! It was said to be evil and controlling. It was willing to launch dragon against dragon! And, while Alviar deeply admired the strength of the convictions that could drive someone to that, he believed just as deeply that they were misled. Benden was some ode to the downfall of the Riders.

Bitra; if half of what was said about THAT place was true, Alviar might never stop blushing. Most of what he heard was passed along indirectly- it was the word of the boy who lived next door, and the older men in the mines. It was violence and hate and filth and desperation. Alviar couldn't even envision what it would actually look like- his mind's eye was too clouded to see anything but blackness. He'd never thought it would be that bad. Tales were just tales, after all! And no news that reached Hyphon Hold was fresh. Things changed in the telling. But, somehow, looking at Mutasim, Alviar felt his faith in the unfaithfulness of the word-of-mouth method shaken.

His wide brown eyes looked from Tenmor to Mutasim is a new kind of awe. He'd never thought they'd have such exotic pasts! He was in the presence of people who'd really been out there and had done things (probably) that he could only dream of! And, they'd survived to come to this very Weyr...

He wasn't quite sure what to say! He'd never met any people so... different from himself.

[Requiem]

Mutasim's brow arched at Tenmor, not bothering to hide his reaction. Benden. Okay, he did hide his reaction, actually, but Jabari made it perfectly clear that Muta's apparent curiosity was anything but. The brown's head twisted toward Tenmor, hissing sharply, before he pressed himself even tighter against His. Tenmor from Benden. Any more parallels between him and the dragonhealer, and the candidate who had already been left standing two times - doubtless because he was too messed up for a dragon to ever want - might be tempted to slit the boy's throat. As it stood right now, however, he simply found it a strange coincidence.

To say that Mutasim hated Benden Weyr was putting it mildly. As horrible as Bitra Hold had been to him and the few he cared about, it was the Benden dragonriders who had a tendency to frequent the gambling houses. Benden bronzeriders, especially, had Mutasim's undying hatred. Shitaki...He pushed the train of thought aside.

Alviar seemed quite awestruck, given the looks he kept sending them. Mutasim smiled darkly. It wasn't a nasty smile, but he apparently found the boy's wonder amusing. That was when Jabari decided that he was done with the tense atmosphere. The brown latched onto Mutasim's earing - the boy wore only one, because after piercing the first one himself, he honestly couldn't remember why he'd wanted to at all - and tugged. Muta yelped, muffled curses escaping him as he tried to pry Jabari's jaws apart.

"What's the matter with you?!" The brown whined around the mouthful of metal, but he didn't let go. No longer caring if the creature tore his ear up, the candidate pushed at the small body, trying to dislodge the flit. Jabari simply wrapped his tail around the boy's neck. Only when Mutasim stopped trying to push him off did he release the earring, crooning and rubbing his head against His. Muta simply glared at him. "Don't think that's going to make it better." The brown whined again. He hated it when His got too emotional. Now there was just annoyance. Jabari liked annoyance far better than the scary emotions of before.

Despite Muta's glares, he didn't send Jabari away. His gaze came up to snag on Tenmor and Alviar, as if daring them to comment, but the smallest of rueful smiles touched the corner of his lips. Blasted brown flit.

[irbre]

Almost as immediately as he had said it, Tenmor regretted telling them that he had originally been born at Benden. It wasn't his fault, shard it! He despised Benden with a passion, and, as much as he hated to admit it, Benden deserved every ounce of disgust. They were murderers and destroyers, killers and scoundrels, as well as quite a few words that a prudish Tenmor didn't even care to speak. His life at Benden had been nothing special. He regretted it every day, but he knew full well that he couldn't dwell on the past. He had been too young to do anything, too young to convince his parents to leave, too young to save his mother.

And here Alviar was astounded, almost delighted in the fact that he had such a...colorful history. Tenmor couldn't help but feel that Mutasim's history explained the strange boy a bit too well. Bitra would have been an extremely hard place to grow up and Tenmor was relieved that he hadn't grown up there, not that Benden and traveling had been higher on his list of chosen lifestyles. Tenmor's gaze flicked to Mutasim for a moment, then dipped down, ashamed of himself. He knew full well that he should not jump to conclusion under any circumstances.

The brown flitt's hiss caught him completely off guard, though. He had never expected for a firelizard to react with such vehemence, much less comprehend what he was saying. Yet another mark on his record, Tenmor thought morosely. He had caught the cynical boy's glare quite nicely, and he didn't like it one bit. The sudden noise of protest caused him to look up, noticing that the flitt was apparently attempting to leave and drag Mutasim with him. Mutasim protested, even though Tenmor didn't have the slightest idea of what it meant.

Some of the anger vanished from the boy, and Tenmor could have sworn that Mutasim's smile was less dark, more rueful than anything. Tenmor managed his own sad semblance of a smile. Whatever anger he had momentarily felt had drained away, replaced by the constant dredges of sadness. Benden. Why, of all places, had he been born there. His gaze flicked somewhat hopefully between the two, as if wishing for someone to speak so that he wouldn't have to go and make a complete fool of himself again.