Meeting of the Titans (Rei/Rii) L15

[Requiem]

Shouldn't I call them? The man lay sprawled on the edge of the steep dropoff, his chin supported on his crossed arms. "Why? They know who they're supposed to meet, and when. If they can't keep track of time or find a huge bronze coiled around a tower...they're already hopeless." The Weyrleader was far too busy contemplating the jungles and missing weyrmates to bother with concerning himself overly much with whether or not a couple of weyrlings would be showing up for their instruction. As far as he was concerned, this was a privelege. A privelege they had earned, yes, but still a privelege, and as such he didn't intend to make it easy on them. But then, why should he? S'rei was far more concerned with bringing up reliable leaders - even if that meant letting the mediocre ones fall flat on their faces to get lost in the shuffle - than being nice. Riders could be coddled to some extent; the only prerequisites were Impressing and not getting yourself killed during weyrling training. Leading wings was a different matter entirely. You had to learn to develop a thick skin, to command respect, to work to control what you could and let go of what you couldn't. And you had to learn that no one was going to hold your hand.

All that aside, it wasn't really the reason he was so disinterested with making it more clear as to where the bronzepair was. Aliscia was missing. He was fond of her, in his way - what that way was, exactly, tended to be pretty difficult to pin down - but it was the children he was more concerned about. Shoal was none too pleased that his father didn't lactate, for one, and S'rei found it a little awkward, leaving his son off with a wet nurse so often. He wasn't terribly shy, but there was no way that 'hey, do you mind nursing my child' would be a very comfortable thing to ask of anyone. By now the rumors had to be out, if they hadn't started circulating already when she stopped showing up to Ephemerae wing drills. Was Fort still wandering the jungles? Or had Aliscia simply gone mad with so many children? The greenrider had been jealous of her own son, to the point that S'rei had felt it necessary to leave the boy in the creche the first sevenday or so after he was born. That didn't seem a particularly stable mentality, now did it? Though, if she were crazy, you'd think Tanith at least would have responded to Salenth - or contacted someone.

Oh well. He really didn't have the time or resources to go searching for a missing weyrmate. After what had happened last time, he really didn't want to. Either she'd return on her own, or...well if there was an or then she was probably already in a state where she wouldn't be coming back and finding her wouldn't do him any good. So, for now, he was operating under the assumption that he was now a single father of three. A blind boy, a hyperactive daughter, and an infant. (That wasn't including the nephew currently living with K'lir who still frequented S'rei's weyr and office often, or Shei, who had been left with his eldest brother's widow on the outskirts of Southern.)

Sighing, he laid his head on his arms to catch a peek of bronze hide. "Which ones were they again?" The only two they could be. The bronze that caused all the trouble at the graduation of the class before them and who got himself gutted in that mandyr...thing. And the brown you sat on. "Tch." He closed his eyes, feeling the pressure building behind his sinuses. Perfect. It was only for two months. And hey...there was always the off-chance that they'd both prove utter failures early so he wouldn't have to deal with them for very long. (In all truth, they did need more people who could take on responsibility, and having two he'd trained personally who he knew well enough to place in the right place would be very beneficial - he just didn't have his hopes up. Finding anyone with leadership potential these days seemed to be rather like trying to kill a feline with a wooden spoon.)

[rii]

"This isn't funny."

Down on knees and supporting his torso with palms against the stone floor, R'ven lowered himself to peer under the bed. Upon not finding what he sought, the smith snorted and moved to sit back on his heels – one being booted and the other bare. A wrinkled formed on his brow. Normally his boots were placed right by the door. Why, out of all the days, did one have to go missing now. Hazel eyes swept back and forth across the room.

Why not just go without them. "Because it's cold." Then go with the one you found. "I'm fairly sure that it wouldn't be a good impression if I show up with one boot on. Nothing says wingsecond material better than a man that can't manage to put both boots on in the morning." I don't understand how boots add to your worth. R'ven sighed, heavily with palms laying flat on his thighs. "Just help me find it, would you? I don't want to be late. Has Salenth told you about where we are suppose to go?" No. I assume we go where they are. "Which is.." Where Salenth normally is.. ?

Unhelpful, all of them. Bonne chirped from her nook. "Don't even start," R'ven rolled his eyes up to her. "Unless you know where my boot is." At once, as if Bonnie had just been waiting to be asked, a series of images played before his mind's eye. R'ven was up on his feet in the next instance, prowling out into the hallway to see the original source of Bonnie's message. Ca'tauri, his overly large feline, playing with the laces of the missing boot where she had dragged it out near the stairs.

It only took a short hustle afterward before the brown was backwinging to land near the drumtower. The smith dismounted, straightening his jacket out as he glanced in the weyrleader's direction. Right.. here.. now what.. Paying little mind to his rider, Trilaranth folding his wings back, settling down while turning his head toward the bronze. Greetings Salenth.

[Rei]

Mavenath arched his neck and pranced slightly as he waited on his ledge. Hurry Crymine. You take far to long and we do not want to be late. As always you cut it to close. Reliable we must be or no one will take us seriously. Yeah, yeah keep your pants on! I’m coming. Lacing up his last boot and throwing his riding jacket on the bronzerider hastened to the bronze’s side. In a few more moments he was astride the beast and clipping himself in. Took you long enough. The bronze remarked before throwing himself from the ledge and coiling upwards. No need to go between to get to their destination. The drum towers where close enough. Everyone with any sight knew that Salenth spent a lot of his time there. With a rumble Mavenath straightened out and started in a glide towards the distant towers.

Remember now my idiotlove. Your best behavior and do try not to show your stupidity or arrogance to much. I do not want to look like a fool because of you. Cr’oph snorted dryly. Wow thanks for the confidence in me you huge ass. The dragon banked into a glide and replied choosing to ignore the insult. Well you do not have a good track record when it comes to intelligence so far. You do well when you /have/ to but you are far too lax in some areas. I do not need or want to look a fool because of you. I chose you for a reason. I know that we can do anything we set ourselves to. As long as you gain the capacity to listen and…. You are ignoring me. What? The bronze growled softly. Forget it. No what? Nothing turn your attention to the lesson.

Back winging the bronze offered a croon of greeting to Salenth and Trilaranth before bespeaking both. The more formal greeting going to the elder bronze. Fair skies Salenth. Good day Trilaranth. Folding his wings along his back ridge Mavenath positioned himself so he could see both males clearly. Cr’oph in turn offered a polite head nod to the respective riders but stayed silent. No sense shouting anyway. For the moment the bronzeweyrling ceased to dismount. If S’rei wanted him off he’d likely say something.

[Requiem]

So formal, the male commented, decidedly amused. His eyes remained fully lidded. I will give you a hint, young ones: Mine has never stood much on formality. This first lesson - and the ones after - he will be more curious to see how you handle yourselves. Lids unveiled, the calm colors swirling behind them slowly. If you wait for direction, you will miss your chance. Note this well. Better to act and make the wrong decision than to remain paralyzed by indecision. If you cannot show him that confidence, you have already failed. A leader may be cultivated, yes, but he is not made. He is born. Then, softer. Do not be nervous, younglings.

Too accomodating. Am I? the bronze questioned his rider privately. To them we are something they can hardly fathom, whether they realize it consciously or no. It has been too long since uncertainty ruled to judge it fairly in others, I think. But mostly you are just ill-tempered this morning. Shoal would not sleep. Human hatchlings miss their dams. Yes. Try not to scare them completely, Mine. Just a little is okay then? Salenth huffed softly, eyes shuttering again. If the dragonpairs couldn't figure out from their obvious separation that they would not be riding - at least not right now - Salenth could do little for them.

The Weyrleader rose up on one elbow, his eyes turning toward the two men. They skirted over the pair before focusing on the closer one, S'rei waving him forward. He was tempted not to even give that much indication of what he wanted, but...Salenth was right. They would learn how they were to act soon enough, he was sure, but expecting them to know that right away was perhaps a bit much. Perhaps.

It didn't mean he'd give them much, though.

Trusting that they'd both come over, he returned to sprawling on his stomach, eyes looking out over the sprawling cliffs that housed the weyr. If there had been any question as to why he and Salenth spent so much time on the heights, it was partially answered by the view; most of Selenitas unfurled before them from this vantage point. His first words were directed to R'ven, who had naturally arrived first, being closer. "Join me, if you will." A slight pause. "Tell me, R'ven - " No, he had not forgotten them, for all that his temprament was as fickle as a stallion's this morning. "-what is it that you see?" He nodded toward the Weyr. There was no right answer, thought it would be too much to say there weren't any wrong ones. Mostly, he wanted to hear how the man thought.

[rii]

Mave, Trilaranth returned the greeting, but continued to curiously regard Salenth with a single eye. The brown stretched out before fully settling on the ground, wondering with a faint amusement why the bronze thought him, or his, to be nervous. Sounds strange to me, holding the position of weyrleader and not expecting formalities from weyrlings. He already knew that his would treat the weyrleader no other way – even if his didn't exactly have a very high opinion of the man..

R'ven cast a side-long look at his brown, then Cr'oph before moving forward toward the sprawled weyrleader. Had met the man only once and it wasn't exactly a dazzling first impression. It became clear that S'rei wasn't going to stand up. Join him. Right. R'ven drew in a breath before sitting down, one leg bent in toward himself while the other stayed straight.

The question directed at him was even more peculiar, and for a long moment R'ven simply regarded the weyrleader with silence; despite hearing Salenth speak about being paralyzed with indecision. What did that question even mean – and what was the point. His hazel eyes swept over the view, wondering if in that moment he was suppose to make some impressive observation.

Quite simply, R'ven lightly shrugged. "Home."

[Rei]

Mavenath rumbled at Salenth’s return comment his tail flicking before coiling around his haunches. To formal? How could the older bronze expect that he would be anything less than formal. This pair where the leaders of the entire weyr and elders besides. The formality was necessary in the young bronze’s mind and he tilted his head before dropping into a crouch to allow his to dismount. As his rider left him Mavenath arched his neck and sprawled out in a sphinx like position.

Your words have been noted. I do not profess to say I am nervous. At all. I see nothing to be nervous about. Folding his wings slowly he considered before adding. Yours may not care much for formality but I seek to give respect where it is needed and expected. To not greet you in a way indicating your status seems terribly rude to me. There explanation even if such was not needed.

Awake and alert Mavenath did not move to drowse, instead he fixed whirling eyes on Trilaranth momentarily before turning his attention from his brother to the humans. The bronze had always been something of a people watcher and he always kept track of what his was doing and learning at all times. The young male found he learned things far easier this way. On top of that he could exercise a mild control on his reckless rider when such was needed. Currently it seemed unnecessary but the bronze was curious.

Cr’oph in turn had dismounted upon the suggestion to his mind from Mavenath and S’rei’s beckon. It was easy enough to catch up to R’ven, however the red head paused momentarily as they where waved forward. Even as the Weyrleader turned back to his sprawled position Cr’oph stepped forward behind his classmate. As the brownrider sat the bronze rider remained standing, eyes drifting over the canyon and the openings that marked the weyrs of the riders housed at Selenitas.

Blinking as S’rei spoke the young man turned over the question in his own head even as R’ven gave his answer. Home. Hmm. Could he to say the same thing of Selenitas? It had been home in a way since he and his brother had fled Benden, sisters in tow. It was where he had impressed Mavenath and where any that he could call friends or family lived. So yes it was home. in the end Cr'oph stayed silent watching the canyon with mild interest.

[Requiem]

Any bronze with wings to fly may hold such a position, Salenth remarked dryly, uncoiling from around his tower with a flick of his own wings, perhaps coincidental, perhaps as illustration. Mine requires only obedience. Respect is earned. He has little enough patience with empty formalities. The male ambled closer to the two young dragons, seating himself as his eyes found the trio of riders ahead. His wings tested the air for a moment before he mantled them, certain now that there was room enough for the three to take to wing without bothering one another. His gaze shifted toward Mavenath with amusement, though his words remained for both. You will find that rudeness is of little concern to us. Now. Tell me of what Ioth and His teaches of late.

The shift of weight nearby was noted by ear and through his peripherals; S'rei's attention remained captured by the weyr below. The answer pleased him, on some level - it was not a question with a right answer, though there were a few wrong ones. He wished to know how these two thought. One word was hardly enough to gauge that, but the word itself carried some interest. "Is it? I was born here, with my brothers and my sister. Salenth was hatched here. I've taken two weyrmates, had four children between them, and yet still sometimes..." Voice trailed off, the flicker of a half-smile on his lips as his eyes slid toward R'ven. "You are holdbred." Not a question. "No doubt our customs and lifestyle seem as strange to you as that of the holds seem to me. But, whether you see this as home or not, it is now your life. A man cannot lead what he doesn't feel he possesses. What is yours, R'ven? What do you safeguard, or what do you wish to claim?"

Cr'oph received no such questioning. Cr'oph had not yet spoken, had followed, silent as any wraith, and even after the echoes of R'ven's word faded, he said nothing. So long, the red hair, streaming out along the wind with every gust. S'rei's father had hair like that, shorn close but just as deeply red. S'rei himself had only hintings of it, though some of his children had taken after their grandfather. It was a vanity, of sorts, and reminded him most of the runner stallions, their hair streaming out behind them. Stallions were of no use to S'rei before they were tempered, and his arm shot out as he shifted to one elbow. Shouldn't be able to grasp a man's hair, unfettered, from his lounging position. That he could spoke much for Cr'oph's vanity. Fingers fisted in a knot around the strands, the man yanking down hard as his belt knife - honed to a sharp edge - slashed through the offending hair less than half-a-foot from the scalp.

The Weyrleader cast the feet of hair over the edge of the cliff and watched it float languidly down. "You come, clearly intending to ride, without so much as a runner tail." A cloth was tossed at Cr'oph's face, wettened - though when it had been moistened was anyone's guess. "When you have earned your place in the wings, perhaps then we will permit you to let the khol blind you as it runs. Get the crap off your face." His eyes were cold as they found the bronzweyrling. "A shiny dragon does not a leader make, or even a rider. By the time your pretty mane grows out again, perhaps you will have learned to tie it back." A small huff through his nostrils, and he dismissed Cr'oph with hardly a glance.

[rii]

You mean to say that Mavenath may one day hold that position? Trilaranth sharply flicked his wings and tail as if perishing the thought, then laid his head out on the grass with one half-lidded eye watching the two bronzes. His wings smoothed back along his fawn hide. The topic of formalities dismissed; asking his rider to change wasn't a matter up for discussion. His jaws parted in a short yawn. Formations, flaming thread, to fly like a blue..

Could you at least try and care? When something important arises, perhaps.

R'ven turned his gaze from the view to the weyrleader, feeling no need to respond to the majority of S'rei's words. It sounded like the bronzer answered his own implied questions. No reason to bother giving insight to someone that seemed to have made up their mind already. If it was the wrong impression.. R'ven didn't really care – which might have concerned him if he took notice. The apathy was more Trilaranth's doing than his own. Collectively though, his interests in life were narrowing and the smile and nod routine was becoming more and more of a mask.

These were terribly personal questions (in R'ven's holdbred opinion), and the former smith couldn't help but privately comment that not only respect had to be earned – so too did trust. R'ven neither trusted, nor liked, S'rei. However, the weyrleader was not a man that could be ignored, or politely told it was none of his business. Thus so, R'ven relaxed the even look he had settled on the bronze rider.

"Trilaranth is mine," the only thing he could lay claim to. Everything else could be taken from him, but the brown and himself were one in the same. "As far as safeguarding goes.. " He shrugged mildly. "I grew up with five sisters, I became protective of them.. and that's something that extends to anyone regardless of who they are."

In evidence of the way, shortly after speaking. R'ven nearly rose to his feet as S'rei pulled the knife to slice through Cr'oph's hair. That hard look that he had vanquished moments before was back in spades. Was that really necessary? Another round at the dominance game? Maybe S'rei should just use him as a chair again. Disgust welled up inside of him, and R'ven did well to train his eyes onto the jungle canopy below the cliffs.

Simmer down, Trilaranth grumbled at the spike in emotion inside his rider. Not like hair serves a true purpose other than to mask your soft heads.

[Rei]

Mavenath regarded Salenth with calm whirling eyes. I understand. Obeying was something Mavenath could do easily. It was his bonded that had problems in that department. However with prodding his did better. He was learning. It was slow going and his bonded unlike the bronze was an emotional creature. If the rider was fire than the bronze was ice. Calm and stoic was the bronze where Cr’oph was hot and passionate, despite the clashes they often got into it went well enough when one or the other chose to bend. The young bronze however was a very unbending sort.

Even now Mavenath watched with slight interest as Trilaranth made a sharp movement. Had something Salenth said upset his brother? It was interesting to believe so. Perhaps not however. Unlike some other browns, his lighter colored brother had never been one to want the leadership role. No Trilaranth seemed perfectly content with taking and following orders to perfection. Mavenath had never heard anything besides complete obedience the few times he had asked the brown for his help. The bronze quite valued his brother for that.

To Salenth the young bronze responded with a slow tail flick. Ioth teaches us what I suppose most of the Selenitas weyrlings are meant to learn. Thread drills, flying in formation, flaming, working in camaraderie. Mavenath trailed off. One has to wonder when we will learn to fight to survive in this war we where born into. Whirling eyes then flicked to his bonded as a flash of white hot anger came racing across the bond. A few moments later things seemed to have relatively cooled and Mavenath gave a rumbling chuckle. I am amused. You must thank yours for me. I have been trying to get mine to rid himself of that particular vanity for as long as I can remember. Shifting in a slight stretch the young bronze snorted and turned his eyes back to the humans noting their stiff and angry posture. Hmm leave it to the human males to turn this into some kind of testosterone fest. Humans made everything complicated.

Cr’oph stayed silent through R’ven’s answer. He didn’t offer anything and instead thought over how he would answer. His answer would be different from his classmate’s. Cr’oph claimed his friends and family. He was even mildly surprised R’ven didn’t mention anything besides Trilaranth. Didn’t the man have a friend or two? The bronzerider would strive to protect those he cared about. However that was it. For example if his class where to be attacked it would be X’rx he would protect and only X’rx. If the rest met their end. Well then it would be upsetting on some level but the bronzer would lose nothing in the end. Perhaps it was his Benden upbringing or just selfishness, but this was how Cr’oph thought. If it wasn’t connected to him in some way he found it hard to care about it. If it was his or was attached to his heart there was a difference. That being said the weyrling still had some morals but if some stupid bitch or kid came at him with a knife they where going down. There was no mercy in war.

So involved was the red head in his thoughts that he was caught off guard by the flash of steel. In response Cr’oph actually growled his hand going swiftly to his belt knife. The white hot anger that flashed through him as he stumbled back in shock (Feeling a bit lighter for his lost hair), was immediately pounced upon by his bronze.

Stop it! He did not hurt you. Don’t you dare draw that knife. But. He. No excuses. He is the leader you are but a pawn for now. Stay your hand. He is more experienced than you anyway. You would have no chance. Now use your brain and obey. At least until you no longer have to. He is the Weyrleader Crymine. The redhead caught the towel thrown his way and grimaced. Fine. Whatever. What a prick. The bronzer felt the dragon withdraw slightly even as he started to rub the kohl off from around his eyes.

R’ven’s reaction had also dulled his anger a bit. It had surprised him that his classmate had reacted at all. Cr’oph had been under the impression that the other man had hated him. Seemed that was not true. That was interesting information to have. Perhaps one day after lessons he would offer the other man a drink and conversation. Who knew at the very least they could both gripe about S’rei. A mild glare was shot at the older bronzerider’s back. Tch.

[Requiem]

Yes. There was only a small hint of amusement at Trilaranth's exaggerated trepidation. Or you, if she doesn't show her usual vanity. Mine says she once chose a brown, though a bronze caught her when she faltered, despite the choice. Checkoth also holds her favor. Not enough to win her last Flight, perhaps, but Millieth was as capricious as usual for those of her color, and Salenth did nothing to curry or keep her favor. Most like her next Flight would see a new Weyrleader. The answers of the two dragons seemed to amuse Salenth no less than the brown's first response, though he paused long enough to take note of the bristling as S'rei remained at ease, apparently oblivious. As you said, ReiMine; the class is close. Even amongst the quarrelers. And so they must be. You have become the enemy. Amusement filtered back to Salenth. Indeed. Only in the south could hair accomplish that. If they came seeking a friend in me, they were greatly mistaken.

Leaving His to his games - games were for humans; dragons needed no such smokescreens - the bronze considered the words of the two younglings. Dragons of our size fight best with Ours. The northern views teach little respect for dragons of blue and green, but it is they who are best built for battle. Our claws rend deepest. Our blows strike hardest. But they are of little use if the smaller dragons are too swift to be touched. Nevertheless, come. At least you shall know how to fight a dragon of similar size while Ours finish their business. Then, Mine assures, you will be shown how bronzes and browns fight. It was as good a place to start as any, filling the gaps in learning that the Weyrlingmasters had left. One could not lead when they didn't know how to do. Salenth took to wing, circling above as he waited for the weyrlings to join him.

Though he didn't react visibly, the move for the belt knife and the brownweyrling's twitching did not go unnoticed. He didn't go for his own dirk. S'rei was not the best fighter, and he wasn't in the most advantageous of positions, but 'not the best fighter' would have no trouble with whelps such as these, and that was only if they took leave of their senses enough to actually attack him. Unlikely. Cr'oph might have some skill given his upbringing, but it would not match a man trained in the north for near twenty turns. Simple logic. R'ven had no training at all. S'rei's voice was flat. "Not just words, for once." His eyes flicked toward R'ven with a brief, appraising glance. People often spoke big. Rare it was that they actually matched action to syllables.

"When you've finished your sulking, boy, I pose to you the same question: What do you see?" Again, he tested the weyrlings, looking to perhaps get a feel for them beyond rumor and the whisperings that made up the vast array of his background knowledge of those at the Weyr.

[rii]

Trilaranth watched the rather anti-climatic exchange between humans with detached interest. A pissing match his rider so delightfully called it, followed with something about letting the other two piss into the wind all they wanted. A malevolent laughter rolled over R'ven's mind, a private amusement from his dragon. Quite the mood his rider was in, delighting Trilaranth with the dark thoughts kept in the far back of the mind.

The dragon's eyes began to close, looking for all the world to be preparing to nap under the mid-morning sun. At least until the new subject caught his interest; black claws dug slow, shallow furrows under his mass. Light blues whirled through his eyes that now focused on the rising bronze..

The flexing of claws was matched with the narrowing of hazel eyes as S'rei regarded him with both words and a look. R'ven met the gaze evenly, expression unchanging aside from the faint narrow of eyes that made it clear that they were not friends. Again he gave the weyrleader little more than silence, finally shifting his gaze to Cr'oph to see what the red-head made of the queer question. The brownrider's shoulders hunched a second before..

.. Trilaranth burst into the air. Launching off powerful limbs and a massive down stroke of wings that rushed air over the grounded men. He didn't even bother waiting for Maventh's undoubtedly polite acceptance to the lesson before flat out launching an attack on Salenth – going for one of those large wings. Of course it wasn't meant to hit. Trilaranth wasn't fond of sitting around and talk of doing things. He wanted action, and thus made it.

[Rei]

Mavenath have a rumble of acceptance as Salenth spoke and then took to wing. No words where needed. Flaring his massive wings he made to leap but stalled at the sudden threatening display coming off his brown sibling. Quietly the young bronze waited until Trilaranth had risen to attempt his strike at Salenth. There was no disproval or anger in his whirling eyes as he leapt upwards after the other male pair. He could learn from this outcome. A violent entity Mavenath was not. He preferred to solve things with his mind and words when such could be done. He would fight if necessary but not before. As such the bronze merely climbed upwards and steadied his wings, circling as he waited the outcome of his brother’s attack.

Cr’oph said nothing as he wiped the last of the kohl from his eyes. The wind from the down sweep of Trilaranth’s wings caused him to shield his eyes with an arm. Once the stinging wind died down he lowered his arm and worked to relax the tenseness in his shoulders. S’rei’s question was accepted with a short sharp nod. Turning the bronzer examined the view before him. An inward debate raged before she suddenly decided the truth was better than naught.

“What do I see? Not home that is for sure. I was born and raised in Benden. But even that place I can’t call home. They say home is where the heart is. But my heart has always been with those I love. My brother, my sister, the friends I have gathered. This before me is Selenitas. A place I reside in but not one I call home. Still I would fight for this place if only in order to protect those I hold close to me."

Slowly Cr'oph turned towards S'rei and R'ven. "What is see is not home but a place I am bound to by my dragon and the ones I love who choose to call this place home. A weyr is what I see. One that has a long way to go to be truly considered safe. Improvements have been made yes. But you can’t change the people who live here.” Cr’oph trailed off then and ran a hand through his much shorter hair. There S’rei had his answer.

Anyone with eyes could see the marked differences between those from the north and those born in the south. The bronzerider still held onto the belief that fighters where born not made. He would fight to protect M’kai, Meagan, X’rx, and possibly a few select others. But as far as an emotional connection to this place? The red head valued people. Not places. Maybe it was selfish of him, but in the end it was what it was.

[Requiem]

No verbal response, and no warning apart from what his own senses gave him, but Salenth hadn't really expected any different. In truth, he didn't have expectations of these two at present. Having never really been a big part of the curriculum for weyrlings, he wasn't even sure precisely what it was they should have learned, so... The bronze was easily one of the largest at Selenitas, and size had more disadvantages than advantages in a lot of cases when it came to aerial battles. What was endurance when most fights lasted mere seconds? That didn't mean he didn't know how to use what he had, though, and well he should; the dragon was older than the boys these young ones had bonded to. His wings mantled, the male rotating into the direction of the attack with a slash of claws for Trilaranth's snout as he plunged past the brown. A warning that would have laid his face open and likely blinded him had it been a real fight. The displacement of air in the wake of the large body would drag on Trilaranth's wings and throw him off, if only for a few heartbeats. With bulky frames, best to attack from height and keep your legs close to protect your underbelly, he instructed serenely.

His wings flared above the ground, halting him completely in a direct hover over the riders. Another lesson that he didn't state aloud. Use what cover you could, even if that cover came in the form of putting the other dragons' humans in the line of fire so they wouldn't attack. Mavenath and Trilaranth both were above now. Instead of rising into their grasp, Salenth angled over the edge of the cliff. You'll have to come at me together, weyrlings. He stretched his neck and tail, folding his wings tight against his flanks as he streamed down the cliff face, skimming the waterfall and letting the push of the water increase his speed. The bronze suddenly torqued, lashing his tail in the opposite direction to complete the turn. Not so nimble as a blue or green, but it was a tight turn, using the flick of the outside wing to drag on air and fling him about faster. Water geysered where his tail had caught the falls, momentarily masking his movements as he shifted to speeding up the side of the cliff in half-strokes, which allowed him to hug the rockface more closely even if it meant expending more energy. His claws and jaws flashed for the weyrling or weyrlings caught unawares by the temporary smoke screen, careful to stop just short of wingsails.

Still trying to impress? The words were flowery enough, even if it didn't seem he'd quite thought them out before they started, since they seemed to dance around what he was trying to say. Well, if nothing else it at least said that Cr'oph's ego wasn't insurmountable, if he was still eager to please after their small face-off. What was he bowing to? Age? Rank? Did it matter? As long as it could be used with more than just S'rei - as long as he could follow to some extent instead of fighting for his head constantly - Cr'oph could be used. Some would find that thought offensive, but a dragonpair without use was worthless...from the smallest weyrling to the bronzepair that led Selenitas. All were tools in their fashion.

Even as the dragons pounding the air around them had stirred nothing but his clothing, S'rei's form remained serene. He summarized. "You see the place where some of those you care for are." A single nod. "To change anything, you first have to change yourself, Cr'oph. R'ven. People follow confidence. Even when all you have is doubts, and nothing seems like it's working...you can't show them. And that's easier when you actually are confident. Which means finding your weak points and strengthening them, and finding those who can shore you up where you can't improve or you're improving too slowly. We'll start with finding your confidence. Individual skills first. Flying. Fighting. Anything else you have questions about. You'll come to my squad-specific drills twice a week and see how small drills are run. And on the fifth day you'll come to the full wing drills, for the squad mock-skirmishes. The first week you'll participate. The second you'll serve as my seconds. The third you'll divide my squad between you as two separate squads and give the orders. They won't listen to dragonriders wet behind the ears unless you prove yourselves. Now, questions? And I'll take suggestions for anything you want to learn for the months you're with me, as well. We have three."

[rii]

Trilaranth snapped at the claws that raked the air in front of his face. If someone wanted to claw him there, he was going to take a few of their digits, if not all, for their trouble. The muscles on his chest strained as he powered through the pull of air from Salenth's passing. Could have tucked a wing and move in to follow the stream that Salenth created and launch a following attack on the bronze's hindquarters – but he had made his initial point clear enough that he wanted to learn aerial combat.

The brown circled sharply around Salenth's idling position, little care to the dirt storm their riders were forced to endure from the collective down beat of large wings. He followed the slip over the cliff edge, knocking his back legs against the rocky surface to send a few chunks falling after the older dragon. Leveling off from there, Trilaranth checked Mavenath's position in the sky. Work together, hm. There is not much room for three of our size without collision, I would think anyway.

And he didn't care to test those airs and learn from the result of a broken wing. Still, he nudged his brother to approach from a different direction while he continued on his tangent angle – lagging behind to make a sweep at Salenth only after Mavenath had made a pass.

R'ven soon turned his gaze back over the view, an arm raising slightly to protest his eyes from the swirling dirt as the dragons played out their lesson above their heads. Cr'oph's answer was something of a let down. Pointing out and repeating R'ven's very short answer in a lengthy fashion – R'ven had to wonder the purpose of it. Couldn't he have been more original, say he saw trees or something..

The energy rolling off of Trilaranth was hard to ignore. It was like a shot of testosterone had been added into his system – the aggression it rose inside of him hummed just beneath the surface. At least S'rei had dropped the whimsical line of questioning. (Yes, what next great weyrleader, did you want them to pick shapes out of the clouds?) R'ven kept his grumblings to the tightness in his jaw.. and the way he pinched at the bridge of his nose to try and clear his mind from Trilaranth's.

A week was a short time to learn what was needed to know, could that even be done? R'ven had spent all this time in weyrling lessons and he felt as if he still knew next to nothing. "How to block out a dragon," R'ven muttered in half jest. His hand dropped back to his side. What else could they learn from the weyrleader that wasn't already going to be covered in lessons. R'ven gave a brief glance in Cr'oph's direction before looking to S'rei. "Holdbred doesn't get a base training for fighting. Knocking out some mouthy lout isn't the same as kill or be killed." Not that he had hesitated when the moment came; nor regretted it. "There doesn't seem to be many people training fighting around here, and none around my own size."

[Rei]

Angling his wings into a dive at Trilaranth’s slight prod and Salenth’s words, Mavenath watched the older bronze with calmly whirling eyes. Yes it only made sense to attack from above and from what he was able to pick from his riders mind which wasn’t much he had at least a base idea of the areas to protect. Shame most of the battles his bonded had witnessed had been with human eyes and between blues and greens. Mock battles. Much like this one. Still Mavenath had one trick in his arsenal that not even his brown brother could pull. Thanks to his lovely mother and her genetic ‘help’. This required getting ahead of Salenth though. On thing that currently he could not do. Maybe in time. Folding his wings the bronze dropped after the other males.

Unlike Trilaranth however Mavenath was conscientious of the humans and did his best to make sure back wind from his wings was minimal in their direction. No need to blind them from mock enemies on the ground. Powering his large wings he responded privately to his brother. You are right not much room at all to maneuver. Need to push him into open air. Having thus spoken the young bronze dove, keeping his rear legs tucked up against his belly as he strove for Salenth. The sudden turn caught Mavenath unawares and he had to pump his wings hard upwards to avoid the teeth that snapped for him. In return he lashed out with one set of foreclaws the other still kept tightly tucked against his belly.

Arching in a turn the bronze powered upwards careful to keep both Trilaranth and Salenth’s locations in mind as he strove to follow above and behind the older bronze. Once they broke into open air and they had more maneuverability Mavenath had a feeling things would change a little. Pumping his wings hard he examined Salenth’s form for an opening. Perhaps if he was lucky Trilaranth could create one for him.

Cr’oph listened in silence to S’rei’s words and gave a brief sharp nod. It didn’t sound all bad and if there was anything the bronzer did have it was confidence. Enough of it that he came off as horribly arrogant at usually the best of times. Almost lazily he regarded R’ven as the brownrider spoke and well he just couldn’t help it. The bronzer wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t get at least one jab in. Giving a small mocking chuckle the red head shook his head.

“We learned to block dragons out like our third lesson as weyrlings. Where were you? Sawing logs in the back or making eyes at our pretty female classmate no doubt.” Making a tsking sound and keeping one eye on R’ven, yeah he wasn’t quite that stupid, Cr’oph shrugged to S’rei. “I’ve got plenty of blade training at Benden. I’d like to learn more about hand to hand I guess and betweening without being astride Mave. Other than that I’m not to worried. With what we will be learning I think I’ll have things pretty covered. As far as questions go right now I can’t think of any.”