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Post by rii on Sept 26, 2009 11:33:57 GMT -5
A small shadow sailed across the top of the grasses, a curious shaped cloud passing through the light. High above, circling aimlessly, glided Saboth on wide-spread wings. He had been raptly watching over the clearly from the position. The new bluepair landing in the spot drew his attention, but since they were not him he didn't disapprove of their presence. A gentle nudging went out over the bond connecting him to his rider, a soft nuzzle-like action to rouse His–who had fallen asleep. Mine?
The downbeat of wing rustled the plant life around him, and paired with the voice in his mind, F'lix eyes snapped open, though he made no sudden movements. Shards, he mentally cursed with a scowl and let his golden eyes sweep over his surroundings. He didn't immediately see anything, but he sat with his back against the boulder, in the shade and arms folded over the tops of bent knees. Saboth's amusement trickled down, supplying the image of the bluepair that rested on and next to the boulder at his back.
Thanks for telling me sooner. F'lix grouched. Not a feline, not a threat. Saboth stated simply, the humor clear in his message. F'lix held back a derisive snort and carefully unwove his slender limbs from the stiff position–trying to remain as soundless as possible. On one hand he didn't want to make noise enough to started the stranger, on the other hand making some sort of noise to announce his presence seemed wise. Habit, however, won over practicality; it was in F'lix's nature to try and remain inconspicuous as long as possible.
Carefully he rose, crouched on toes, and peered over the lip of the rock to view the quiet woman and her lounging blue. Odd, he noted the coloration of the dragon–similar to his own gray-blue dragon gliding above. Saboth had nearly died while a hatchling and had never fully recovered the blue-blue sheen of others. Vaguely wondered about this other dragon. But, brushing the thought aside, F'lix examined the woman. He didn't know her.. really no surprise there. F'lix did not socialize much and made it a point to avoid interaction, which consisted of often removing himself from the Weyr itself. Despite doing that, it seemed company always found him; and F'lix was a curious creature.
Silently he rose to his feet, slipped onto the edge of the boulder and sat cross-legged. Arms folded over his chest and he waited for the stranger to feel or notice his presence. She appeared.. meditative, and he felt no need to really disturb her, but best if she did know he was around. The lazy, narrowed look he leveled on her would soon enough illicit a response. If not that, his words would likely earn an acknowledgment. "Amusing," Softly spoken, just a hint of a rasp, or perhaps growl to the tone. "In no matter where I go, thinking I am alone, it seems company always finds me."
There was no hostility to the words, in fact his tone was rather bland. Patiently he waited to find or meet her gaze before offering a quiet, almost pleasant, "Hello."
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Post by rii on Sept 26, 2009 10:41:14 GMT -5
Quintresk's long, slender tail made a curious pass over the floor in front of him, making a soundless sweep as it curved, wrapping around his front claws. Pleasantly occupied by his study of his green clutchsister, though his gaze was nothing short of a polite acknowledgment reflecting as dark royal blue–not much brighter than the rest of the room. Her greeting had bemused him, and she now had his curiosity, because (having no other interaction with her) her manners and emotions were new to him. A modest show of gratitude came with his brief response: She too looked well in the night. Has Hers taken well to the bond?
The grin stretched across lips and Quintrell gave a lofty shrug of one shoulder. "I was sittin' on the floor justa moment ago." It was true, he just didn't add that he had tried to hid from notice. Another bounce of his swinging foot as Trel took to subtly studying Yoalla's features–a near mirror to the way the brown viewed the green. Only, the theif had a harder time because the brief share of images that Quintresk shared held more emphasis on his pale clutchsister and the green design masking away from her eyes; rather than give his bonded a focused image of Yoalla.
Would be nice to know how lovely she looks. The theif mused, but only got a rather non-judgmental reply: All females were lovely, were they not? It certainly seemed true, from what Quintresk could sense in his bonded's head. His wasn't picky. Yes, they are, but still would like to know. The more lustrous the more interest Quintrell had in a person of any kind. The brown, mistaken Trel's comparison to mean glow of hide commented the fact that Yoalla didn't glow, but Yosk did–No no, silly brown, Quintrell summed up the image of a woman draped with jewelry. That kind of luster.
Confident one, Trel noted happily about his fellow Wherling, he liked a gal who had swagger. Really, as the brown had pointed out, Quintrell liked any kind of female–it just so happened he favored most whatever one currently shared his company. He grabbed a second piece of fruit and deftly tossed it back and forth between his hands as he gave his full attention to Yoalla (A feat considering the usual scatter-brained demeanor he showed). There was an accent somewhere behind her words, but it seemed masked over by.. one who was properly taught–so why had she, as a child, had to put up with moldy fruit? The wondering toward this mystery may or may have not been his own, or perhaps shared sentiment between he and the brown.
"You? A luv such as yourself had to deal with mold? Ye dun sound like one who had to dig through the bins ta eat. Not offense or such, just sayin' – I came from a poor family muhself, did a lot of travelin' and scroungin'." And his statement seemed affirmed by his strange accent, compiled of bits and pieces of north and a touch of the south blended together in a rather unusual drawl; more prominent when he wasn't babbling mindlessly in boredom. "If ya did, well then, you've come out quite the lady. How long have you been 'ere?"
Quintresk pushed off with his back legs, muscles coiling under his dark hide and bringing him up into a smooth glide of pads over the wooden floor boards. Tail stretched long in an effortless grace of his slender, lean body. He quietly came up to the counter, moving into a better viewing position before settling down–tail politely curling out of the way by going back around his seat–and he looked up at Yoalla. A fresh image was given to Quintrell, and the thief's smile only grew; dimples forming in his faintly perma-red cheeks. She was quite the looker, Trel couldn't quite place the origin of her rather exotic features.
"Eeh, I'm not really fond of the idea of bein' a creature of the night. Not many people around ta talk with, an' those you run inta are usually grouches. Just got yelled at earlier for bein' too loud coming across the bridges. The whole people are trying to sleep thing," He waved his hand dismissively through the air. As if he cared he woke anyone. The lot didn't keep quiet while he was sleeping. "I guess I'm doin' better than some of the others. Haven't talked with them much to know and I think all of us look tired if we hafta go to those lessons." Here he snorted, remembering their last class. "I'd rather eat my boot."
Pleasant one moment, then suddenly Quintrell swung forward. One hand curling over the edge of the counter, nearly laying parallel with the table top as he smiled cheerily down at Yosk. "Just want to say, you have a lovely glow hun. I bet it looks even better under the moonlight." No ruse, Quintrell liked to compliment creatures and well.. from Quintresk's observations (their bond being very close and strong, Trel felt the brown's observations as if he himself had made them) she seemed rather self-conscious. In a way it reminded him of Sprite–Anz's green mandyr. So ridiculously shy. Trel loved to gush at her too.
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Post by rii on Sept 25, 2009 13:38:22 GMT -5
To say F'lix was disappointed would be.. accurate. F'ur had made an offer and the younger bluerider had rose to the challenge–albeit in a more mild manner; but he was there all the same. He knew F'ur could play.. but what did he have in mind? Aside from being spurred by F'ur challenging demeanor, F'lix now felt the curiosity draw him even deeper into trouble. He should just turn away while he had the common sense to do such a thing. The foot, however, made him do entirely the opposite. Was that suppose to be a warning to keep his distance? F'lix leaned into it, making it more than just a firm pressure.
Stubbornly he kept hold of the rag, making a face in a mixture of distaste and confusion. The ink stained into the fibers could not be the least bit appetizing. Hn, but F'lix wasn't going to let go–paranoid the Fortian might turn it back on him to draw more silly things. He was mostly clean, if still wet, and he'd like to stay that way (only drier).
The youth suddenly twisted at the hips, the foot he had been leaning into now slide harmlessly across his abdomen. In the same moment F'lix had moved further up the boulder, the other leg sliding over to straddle the Fortian. Slightly raised on knees, to avoid full contact, F'lix had his lower half of his legs folded flat to the back of his thighs. The one hand continued try and tug the rag out from between F'ur's teeth. The other had come down to rest against F'ur bicep, putting some weight behind it–maybe a.. fraction of an attempt to stall the man from getting off a quick counter attack (though in the back of his mind he laughed darkly at a notion. Restrain? F'ur? Far too amusing). If anything, he wanted a better reaction out of the man other than jeering. F'lix was anticipating.. anything, everything, so while his posture was slack, his reflexes were waiting on pins and needles.
Well aware he was always at a disadvantage when it came to F'ur, F'lix dipped low with little concern that he was tempting pain. Physical harm had never warded him away in the past. "You have my attention." He mused, a faint purr to the words. What? Kitten, if the man wanted to call him that, he'd get one crawling right into his lap. No inhibitions there. Play, play? "So stop stringing me along."
He pulled the the rag taunt, golden eyes narrowing on F'ur's features. "No, not really." Admitted easily enough. Couldn't be offended by the truth. Although, all the sharp objects around.. a few still on himself and the ones on F'ur–F'lix could illicit a more immediate response out of the battle-hardened Fortian if he wanted. It wouldn't be a good one, but a reaction none the less. His eyebrow rose, "But, since you are the teacher here.."
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Post by rii on Sept 24, 2009 23:30:39 GMT -5
F'lix bristled upon feeling the wet droplets hit him–not that already being wet they should make any difference to his sodden state. They still felt cold and F'lix response laid more in reaction to F'ur's dog-like shaking than anything else. He turned, idly mopping at his wet cheek with the cloth while he eyes carefully watched F'ur's slow movements. Strange, that one, F'lix didn't know what to make of it.
All the subtle (really not so) challenges were getting to F'lix. As much as he tried to ignore them.. he couldn't. Eyes were slowly becoming more fixated on F'ur with a near frightening intensity. A mere snort was given to the flirtatious words. Still, the aspect of a game.. or playing.. whatever F'ur had in mind, appealed to the Bendenite. So when F'ur walked away, it was F'lix turn to follow, albeit cautiously. He did this, crossing his arms over his chest, warily eyeing the other as his subconscious urged him to go back in the opposite direction.
Silently he observed the lounging Fortian, weighing out his choices.. but stubbornly.. he couldn't turn down a challenge. A fault really, easily baited into a situation, but F'lix was still alive and.. mostly.. well, so he would manage. "Don't kick me." He gruffly warned the man–since his eyes were closed. F'lix leaned against the side of the boulder and reached over to touch the carved foot to carefully examine the lines. Slowly his brow knitted as he kept his attention on the foot, yet his mind roved wildly, torn between what he wanted to do, and what he should do..
"You have something in mind?" He queried softly, voice raising at the end with a show of mild interest. Better to know what F'ur was thinking instead of trying to guess.. not that he would get a straight and cohesive answer either way. His touch receded and his gaze traveled up to F'ur's face; watching, expecting to be shown something–not prattled at with more teasings and taunts. Actions spoke louder than words.
And, following that motto, F'lix raised his leg, setting his knee firm against the boulder to hoist himself up beside F'ur. One arm braced against the rock as he leaned over the older man, the other hand reached out to slide the ink-stained cloth over the tip of F'ur's nose. There, F'lix smirk at the black mark left behind, he accepted F'ur's challenge. "But, if you want to take a nap instead. I understand." He clucked his tongue, pulling his touch away. "We youngsters have too much energy for one as.. aged.. as yourself to manage."
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Post by rii on Sept 24, 2009 22:22:50 GMT -5
By the sounds of the sputtering, the splash must have made a direct hit. The satisfied smile–more of a smirk–returned. The younger kept his back firm to the Fortian as he sloshed up on shore, kicking out his wet, slightly muddied feet in the process. He wasn't worried about F'ur making a sneak attack from behind because.. being stealthy and quick through water just didn't work. He stole a glance at himself on the reflective surface of the stream–tch. "At least it's something original now."
For a long moment the Bendenite simply stood, limbs held away as he.. dripped, and nothing more. F'ur voice, however, spurred him into motion–clear by the way he almost flinched out of whatever discomfort had caused the rigid stance. He spun around, stalked over to the rock while keeping his eyes well away from the Fortian. He doubled at the waist and riffled through the small pack–being sure to stay over an arm's length away from F'ur in the process. He paused only long enough to steal a few quick glances at the man's foot. The ink design seemed to be holding well enough. A couple of days would tell if any damage had been done due to F'lix antics. He just couldn't help himself..
.. just as he couldn't stop himself now. Casually wringing out the front of his shirt then flicking the water droplets at the Fortian. Grudge against water? Here, have some more. "You deserved it." Golden eyes flickered up briefly, making an unplanned stop on F'ur's torso before moving up to his face. He narrowed his gaze for emphasis. What he was trying to stress was beyond him. In his opinion, F'ur had started it. A smirk quirked at the corner of his lips when he noticed the ink mess still clinging to F'ur's neck and part of his face. F'lix certainly looked the more ridiculous out of them both, but he still felt pleased, to an extent, that some of it was on the older. F'lix gaze, even though slitted, took on that feline amusement–secretive and silently laughing at another's expense.
The last bit of clean cloth was retrieved from the pack and F'lix shuffled around, making a wide circle around F'ur to reach the edge of the stream–a clean spot not muddied by their footsteps. Examining his reflection, he began to wipe away the smearing on his face. It wasn't going so well, but at least he didn't look like such a mess. His drenched clothes were another matter, F'lix stood and with a pained expression, began to wring out the dark material. Squeezing as much as the excess water he could from the front before just fanning the shirt. What he wouldn't do for a decent breeze, he sulked–glaring out over the stream.
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Post by rii on Sept 24, 2009 20:21:00 GMT -5
A smug smile that had formed during the action was quickly wiped away when the arm seized around him. F'lix made a sound similar to a strangled yelp and tried to arc away from the impending doom of the stream. Noo, he didn't want to get wet. One leg slid back, arms were extended–he did manage to stall their fall for a brief moment, but it was all to no avail. Balance would not win out when it seemed F'ur was purposely falling back and going to take him along for the ride. Mental note to self: Quickly step away from the Fortian after daring to shove him.
Accepting the fate of the approaching water, F'lix pushed away from his losing ground of the boulder, latching onto the man as if the fall was a matter of life or death. One would have to wonder if he was afraid.. or couldn't swim. Neither really, the younger just didn't enjoy water as much as others. Especially cold water. Splash. If F'ur moved away, F'lix didn't notice, once the fall ended he was on his feet, waist deep in water and shoulders hunched and arms raised high so they didn't touch the stream. He wanted to scramble up the boulder, but it was out of his reach and he didn't want to move.
In retrospect, pushing F'ur into the water wasn't the smartest of ideas. Aside from getting dragged in himself. F'lix should have been more concerned about the art he had fussed over. In his defense, he had thickened the ink with sap so it wouldn't be easily washed out or bleed in with other liquids. And if the design did get a bit faded in parts, F'ur would just have to endure another day of carving to fix it.
F'lix turned, thoroughly drenched and looking oh-so-fit the part of an unhappy, wet cat. His scowling carried no effect in such a predicament (not the mention the ink smearing along his cheeks, and not that he was angry, not in the least, glaring is just want F'lix did)–this is why he took to wearing his leathers more often than not, being small and slender didn't help the intimidating factor. And, oh hyne, F'lix didn't know what was worse. The man running around half-dressed, or wearing a thin white shirt and soaked to the bone. Even the diluted blood on the sleeve added to the effect. F'lix eyes slitted, such a problem that, and now was the man.. angry.. or.. ? He hadn't said anything yet so F'lix had to wonder. Silence on F'ur's end never seemed to bode well in the past..
Regardless, just because F'ur seemed to have gained the upper hand.. and F'lix wouldn't be able to get close again without instant suspicion or retaliation.. he sliced his hand through the water, a quick motion to send a flying wave of water at F'ur. Yes, splashing a thoroughly wet person made perfect sense. Then, with the unappealing sensation of mud sucking at his feet, F'lix waded toward the shore. Best to flee before suffering any repercussions from his bold actions.
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Post by rii on Sept 24, 2009 17:19:18 GMT -5
Company.
Quintrell, upon hearing someone approach and the announcement from the young wher, had ducked behind the counter. It didn't matter that Quintresk had recognized the scent of his clutchsister, and that he had informed the thief of the coming arrival of the green and her bonded. Still the young blonde had hid. The brown sat not too far away, dark brown hide a near shadow in the darkness. If not for the dim lighting giving his rusted stripes a subtle glow, his stillness while seated would have gone unnoticed. He did not understand why his hid from view. Yosk's was a lovely female, was she not? Why did His shy away? If His liked females he should go interact with them.
Shooting a stern glance at the brown, Quintrell put a finger to his lips in attempt to shush the .. silent wher. He liked females well enough, thankyouverymuch, and he was certainly not shy. A persistent questioning from the inquisitive brown only made the thief stubbornly cross his arms. Why did everything have to make some sort of rational sense to the brown? Surprises were a good thing!
Quintresk head canted to the side, not understanding why His wanted to put any sort of fright in the greenpair. So, since he wasn't the one hiding, Quintresk sent a pleasant greeting to Yosk as she came into the kitchen with her bonded. Did she and hers come to eat as well?
Noo, curseable brown, he gave away their position. Fine, since they no longer had the option of slipping by unnoticed, Quintrell stood–or rather, hopped up onto the counter, one leg folding beneath him while the other dangled; kicking at a slow beat. Oh rats.. what was the girl's name– Yosk's. –No, shardit, that was not her name. Quintrell shot a look over his shoulder at the somber brown, then turned a smile on to Yoalla "Evenin' luv, how fairs the night for you?"
A cheery bounce of his foot, Quintrell plucked one of the native fruits out of a nearby basket and offered it to Yoalla. "I dunnae about you," He gave a nonchalant shrug. "But the fruit 'ere in the South far beats the stuff they have in the north. There's also some meat rolls o'er yonder." He pointed to a covered tray a drudge had prepared and left for the purpose of those that lurked the night. Quintrell had flitched quite a few from it.. a bit in excess but he couldn't help himself. Unattended items were usually snagged out of mere habit than actually need.
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Post by rii on Sept 24, 2009 15:22:54 GMT -5
"That's the problem friend, you don't wear it like anythin'." Smiling, as Quintrell was nothing but friendly unless he chose to be nasty, the thief held a section of Dmitri's hair and flapped it through the air (not tugging on it) to demonstrate the nothingness of the style. "Ever think of tyin' it back? Or braid'nit?" The thief promptly ceased rocking, hands rummaged through numerous pockets until a leather tie was produced–obviously not for his short, near white hair. Where he got the items he toted around was always up for question, but he usually did have various knick-knacks on him; never know when they might come in useful. The tie was held up, not for Dmitri to see, but more out to the side for Dmisk to view. It was dark out, and Quintrell didn't know how well the tall youth could see. His sight came from Quintresk so he assumed the same for Dmitri (the differing angles were odd, but after a while his mind wrapped around them easily enough. Quintrell was a very adaptable creature). "No, I meant me if my hair was that long. It's nearly as long as I am tall." Slight exaggeration, but who was going to actually measure? A gallant shrug followed the words. None of his business how the other wore his hair. He didn't care, just speaking his mind. If Dmisk's quiet ways and lack of inflection were cause for concern, Quintresk didn't seem to notice. He hadn't had much interaction with his clutchsiblings–aside from Anzask, whose constant energy was almost too much to tolerate paired with his bonded's bounciness. Then there had been his bronze brother, getting upset over nothing at the hatching. Quintresk could no longer remember what it had been about, but was sure it had been pointless. His may be.. all over the place.. but at least he didn't get irrationally emotional over anything. Dmisk was a welcomed change to Anzask's constant wanting to play. An agreement was sent to the blue, indeed the music maker would learn, Quintresk was confident in his clutchbrother's ability to teach. To answer the question, an impression was shared–coming in a translation of dark blues and deep violets, shifting back and forth between the peaceful hues. It was a very calm center, unaffected by it's surroundings. Emotions were but small slivers of other colors, dealt with in a quick, calculated manner. It was a mystery how something he could sense inside of Quintrell came out in such a strange show of excessive energy. A very curious thing. Quintresk would figure it out. Just as quickly the colorful interpretation vanished, leaving something dark in it's wake. Dmisk's too was a bit of a puzzle–and from Quintresk, this came as a compliment. "I suppose she coulda been an evil glittery mastermind–" a faint scolding came from the young brown who sensed the heavy sarcasm behind the words (but showed little, if at all, in the tone itself). Quintrell ignored it, musing that he didn't think whers were stupid. And that was their mother, he should be more respectful. "–but even so. I can't imagine life without Quintresk. It feels like he has always been there. So to have him actually by my side. Iunno–" Quintrell slurred the word a bit as he again shrugged. "It just feels right." The thief went from quietly thoughtful to suddenly leaping foward–hands upraised and clawed like he was an attacking monster. " That–" he roared the single word. "–or their leechiness works like brain washing. We are but slaves to their whims~!" Quintrell nimbly hopped back, recrossing his arms behind him; spinning the new ring around his finger. It was a bit too big so he could spin it. The frown didn't go unnoticed, but that was more due to Quitnresk's rapt observation than his own. The images in Trel's head actually seemed to put more emphasis on the subtle changes. Something he had said or done? Trel made no show of noticing–just continued to grin in an unshakable cheeriness. His eyes suddenly light up, interested. "So that's why they call you music maker. Met a few harpers in my travels. Fun sort to traverse the roads with. Silver-tongued sly canines your lot. Pipe and sing the panties right off the ladies, eh?" He winked. The trick of wooing women into the furs was the only part that truly interested the thief. Music was nice and all, but Quintrell was something of a vouyer and a teenage male. "Can't imagine we have to stay 'ere and if we leave we'll die or be in some sort of agony. I'd like to still do some travelin', even if it's done only at night. As long as Quintresk has shelter during the day and we can find food, no one can tell us no. It might not be as comfy as livin' snuggly in a Weyr, but that's part of what travelin' is." Wherries.. eat people? Quintrell snickered while turning to lead the way–Quintresk excused himself and quickly moved forward to travel alongside his bonded; guiding him through the darkness. "Wary Wherry So contrary What will you seek today? A lizard's nest, or a snakey pest? Or will you just soar away?" The thief chortled again, amused at the verse of a rhyme fit for a babe suckling at the breast. He reached out and snapped off a low hanging branch, brandishing it about as he spoke. "They're awfully skittish, more so in the North than here, but they ain't nothin' but scavengers. I've run into them a few times, think they expect to be fed or snitch your food while you're not lookin'. But I've always just–" Here again he threw up his arms over his head. Think big scary monster. Stomp stomp! "–Act like I'm going to eat them and they always fly off. I'm sure if they were in a pack they might get brave.. but we got a pack of our own going on. They ain't gonna mess with us."
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Post by rii on Sept 23, 2009 23:52:37 GMT -5
Which game would have best suited the situation? F'lix took a moment to reflect, filing through his memories on what he had observed or endured at Benden. He didn't actively practice the sadistic activities, but he had seen enough to know how. If he wanted to, F'lix could torture a man–but it really didn't sit well with him. He didn't get enjoyment out of it. At least not the long, drawn-out process.. but, smashing in a man's nose for getting on his nerves–that he would do. Break a finger or two to get someone to let go, yes. F'lix knew violence, grew up with it, so it became so.. strange to be at Selenitas. He just didn't understand these people. Likely he never would.
Oh, right, which game? Breaking fingers, yes. See how many fingers it took before T'san shut his mouth. If that didn't work, move to cutting them off, top knuckles first, one by one, then move down the to the second row.. always leave the thumb last so he might be a fraction useful and have something to pawn himself with at night.
A gentle nudging came from Saboth, again F'lix glanced out over the river. Silly dragon. Saboth may not show much emotion, but when he did.. in the faintest way, it always meant more than it seemed. I'm not going to hurt him. Calm down I don't like where your thoughts go. Remembering a few things isn't going to do anything. It always starts as one. I thought /I/ was the pessimist. I'm just being /realistic/.
F'lix gave a snort of his own, more to Saboth's answer than to the returning look T'san gave him. A single eyebrow arched–he had been trying to pick out any further tell-tale signs from the man's posture, not giving him an appreciative once over. But, better to have his actions be mistaken as flirtations–that part F'lix did not mind. He gave a look, disappointment; 'seen better' so to say.
No longer interested in a game (because T'san had offered that there was a game involved, but frankly F'lix did find anything of the sort. An empty offer–what a shame.) F'lix stepped over behind the sitting T'san. If the brownrider didn't mind physical contact than the bluerider would press the matter. Walking away without a word did appeal to F'lix, but he was bored and he did like to get reactions out of others; be them good or bad. Preferably bad. (Admittedly, his earlier musing about torturing made him become more touchy-feely. Nothing like feeling the lifeblood thrumming under fingertips before flesh was open and blood spilled.) He began with a touch to the top of T'san's head, threading fingers through hair to run the touch down the back of the skull.. curling lightly to grip the strands and gently tilt the brownrider's head back, only slightly, to better see his face. His other hand touched the side of T'san's neck, tips settling over the palpable pulse..
"You need a purpose, because otherwise you wouldn't have to act. Like right now, you admit you like to annoy people and behave like a dimglow, and even though you let me know this, you continue. I don't really understand the perks of letting everyone think you're an idiot all the time." He lightly shrugged at the words. "Don't worry T'san, if you keep behaving like a moron, as soon as we get more riders to replaced the ones that died, you can go back to being.. lazy?" Irresponsible? Useless?
F'lix tilted his head down at the brownrider. "Your accent pins you as being from the north." Usually, from his experiences, northerners tended to be more.. wary. "Decide to take a vacation, or do you have a good reason for being here?"
—
Saboth did a tight twirl through the water, wings wrapping around his body, as graceful in the river as he could be in the sky. He rumbled in amusement, the vibrations traveling through the aquatic environment better than it did through the air. Easy to catch fish when they are scared toward you, herding them is something else.. Such small targets, easily darting any direction instead of the single plane a herdbeast ran.
Your turn. Saboth playfully snagged a stunned fish out from under Dsoleth's wing before snaking away to re-surface and take in a new chestful of air. Don't have to scare them back at me. But chasing them is more fun than catching them, I think.
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Post by rii on Sept 23, 2009 20:18:52 GMT -5
Taste. Flix never thought much of the taste, although truth be told it was a familiar one. He liked.. blood was best when pouring from a fresh, deep slash to the bare flesh. Warm to the touch. Slit a man's throat from behind, place a hand over the gash so the arterial spray didn't paint the walls. Could feel a person's very life slipping away as the blood gushed over fingers. So black, glistening in the moonlight—No—F'lix eyes flashed, narrowing, grateful that he had kept his gaze adverted to the foot. Thoughts were halted from delving any further. Neither the time, nor the place for such dark musings.
"Mm.. " F'lix managed, not having much more to say on the matter, and he didn't have to since F'ur had complied with the request. He nodded slightly to the question. "Having the full weight on a foot can alter it." F'lix too, rose, crossing his arms and fixating a heavy, scrutinizing gaze on the digit. Part of him did want to see how it would look when standing, and also how someone else would see it from the same standing angle. He took a step closer, chin tucked to chest–a common enough stance for him, except usually he had his long bang to mask his face from view.
Golden eyes momentarily raised to observe F'ur's mimicry. A slight smirk twitched on his lips. Not many made the connection between careful brush strokes of art to something related to style and control in fighting. But, of course, fighting was a type of art to the Fortian, was it not? It certainly came out in such a way, in F'lix's point of view. A masterful piece of art, that, complete with scarring.. Hn. Another line of thought that was not allowed to be pursued.
"Thanks," He said quietly, albeit a bit gruffly. F'lix didn't say what for but it shouldn't matter. Besides, the younger didn't take compliments well, if at all. And coming from the Fortian, such things seemed to cause more damage than good to the Bendenite. Brush it off. F'lix, tilted his head, now he slightly bent forward though, "F'ur.." Brow knitted–was there something wrong with design?
"I thought I.. " The words were quiet, more than so, purposely done because soft words had the tendency to draw people near.. to lean in closer in a subconscious action to hear. And.. really, F'lix knew better than to make any sudden movements around F'ur. The man was not comfortable around him, nor would he ever be–mused the younger. But a bit of turn-about was fair play.. only F'lix was not as sneaky as F'ur. F'lix was, for all intents and purposes, Benden–thus having a much more straight-forward approach to matters (if with a touch of subterfuge). Maybe in time F'lix would learn to do otherwise, but for now F'lix wasn't going to sulk that he couldn't repay the 'generous' act of whisker painting (beside that it would unoriginal) because F'ur's.. mixture of dislike and reflexes.. didn't allow F'lix to get close enough, and F'lix's touch was cause for instant suspicion.
It had to be direct and surprising, maybe with an unvoiced prayer and a little warning. F'lix couldn't deny his appeal to the danger he placed himself into–but he did trust F'ur–still–not completely, but more than he should. Obviously his common sense did vanish around the Fortian. But, again, he couldn't just let the Fortian win without putting up a fight. And sure, likely F'ur would highly annoyed. But–honestly–whiskers?
".. said no one was getting whiskers." The only form of warning he gave before smoothly arching up to F'ur. No real bodily contact, but F'lix was good at getting intimately close without actually 'touching'. The body language was confident, he knew what he was doing; a flirtatious, challenging way that reminisced his actions in their first meeting.. complete with other intentions in mind. His body may not have touched the other, but F'lix nuzzled the side of his cheek up F'ur's neck and part of his face–smearing inky whiskers along the way. Kitty kitty, yes, lapping blood and pretty claws. F'lix even trilled his tongue–purring–at his to-be teacher. Then the other reason to why he had asked F'ur to stand became very clear. F'lix hooked an ankle with his own, then put his weight into a shove that would push F'ur backwards into the stream.
That was the plan, at least.
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Post by rii on Sept 23, 2009 16:10:20 GMT -5
Quintrell had already taken to plucking up the various plant life around him. Mostly blades of grass that he started laying the long blades over each other in an unseen pattern. A small pile was beginning to form in front of him, maybe he could start it on fire, yes.. with what? The thief peered at the brown, receiving a disdaining mental huff in return–whers didn't breathe fire. Quintrell frowned, but his disappointment went ignored. Fine fine, Quintrell shifted his attention momentarily to the new arrivals.
He gave a longing look over at Anz and his blue–more particularly the blue because he wanted to play. Trel wanted to play too! He gave a cheery wave to his room mate. "Where's spriiite?" The thief loved the ridiculously shy salamandyr–even if she was being moody. Her manners of speech were too adorable for him not to gush at the odd green.
A tightening on the tail around his arm. Focus. A solemn expression momentarily waned Quintrell's smile and he went back to observing the rest of his classmates and clutchsiblings–er, whers. The teacher was speaking again–the thief latched onto the words as if they were a life line. It was something to keep his mind from running away. "I unno, the queen rolled on 'im, and she looked preeetty big to me–but he's fiiiine. Well he was the other day I saw 'im. Maybe. Kinda.. Hey, Dmitri, you okay? Why didn't you just walk? Youra kinda big and Dmisk a bit young to be makin' 'im drag you around.."
Babble much? Just a tiny bit.
Right, okay they were nocturnal because.. Quintrell looked inquiringly at his brown for insight. They called wher's photophobic, but Quintresk wasn't afraid of the light. "Hurts the eyes." The theif raised both of his arms, though one drooped due to the brown tail coiling around his forearm. He dramatically waved his fingers at Roivao–ooooh, big scary light beaaaaams! OoOooh! Flee the liiiight. "They can go blind. And ya'know, that would ruin the whole seein' in the dark thing. And aren't they used for in the mines or sumthin? Probably bred that way over the years?"
Mute button? No, don't see one. Did he care that the question was for the entire class? No. They weren't as bored as him. He needed to ramble or he'd have to resort to other means to keep himself busy.. Quintresk might be content to sit and watch the exchanges between everyone, but as for his bonded.. it would take work to calm that one down.
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Post by rii on Sept 22, 2009 1:28:53 GMT -5
Should have taken the opportunity to strike him.
F'lix smiled at the other, a very playful glow to his golden eyes as he met and kept the brownrider's jovial gaze. He gave a patient nod to the words. Yes gray–jaded to the point of not caring either way. Really, T'san should have been the one wondering about his luck that day. F'lix could be quite entertaining, but, unfortunately, the humor would only be for his benefit.
Sure, yes, F'lix admitted the fact that he and T'san were on the same side–but his views on that were far from being normal considering his Benden origins. It didn't matter that they lived in the same place, fought on the same side–and F'lix knew he was no longer at Benden, but he had spent his entire life there. Hard to forget it. There no one trusted each other. A person didn't test another's patience unless they were picking for a fight. T'san was just.. asking to be hurt.
Eyes narrowed slightly, but it only seemed to add to how amusing he found the words. Plaything. The brownrider didn't even pause before spitting out the derogatory term. Did F'lix, on some subconscious level, advertise he was a toy to be played with? He must. Ja'kin had shaped him well. The smile took on a more wry touch. A worried brush from Saboth, I promised Dsoleth you would not hurt His. Hn, F'lix broke eye contact and gazed over the river. Did you mean it? No, but..
F'lix could feel it, Saboth didn't want to hurt Dsoleth's feelings. Annoying, couldn't his dragon be a tad more apathetic and anti-social? This brownrider was just.. begging for it too. F'lix shifted his attention back to T'san, smile still in place but to a lesser degree. He gave the man a slow head to toe look over, "I don't think you have the capacity to play the games I like for fun." He tsked, shaking his head once to each side. Challenging the other? A bit, but F'lix didn't think T'san would bite at the bait. He hadn't before. "Although, you are certainly acting some sort of role. What is the purpose behind giving off the impression of being an idiot?"
—
I've had a lot of time to practice. Since his preferred being out alone in the jungle rather than deal with those living in the Weyr. Drawing in a deep breath, Saboth plunged into the deeper currents, legs tucking in close to his body as he used mostly his folded wings and long tail to steer him through the water. He touched against the bottom, turning his head back to watch Dsoleth.
Stay still here. I'm going to gather some and scare them back your way. Eyes whirling with amusement, Saboth set off against the currents. He knew all the spots the fish liked to collect. And so he began, curling around large boulders and flashing his pale underside against the light to scare them in a particular direction. They were easy to follow, their shiney scales communicated between them.. and Saboth had figured out how to use that against them.
Spotting a larger one hugging the slow bottom current, Saboth herded the fish around, collecting the big one into the mess and then shooing them back toward Dsoleth. Incoming.
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Post by rii on Sept 22, 2009 1:00:16 GMT -5
"Thought I was the little spy." A half-smirk, but the expression quickly faded. "Wasn't picking a fight. Not a real one.." F'lix muttered, the taste of ink on his tongue making his expression distasteful and words a near growl. "Wanted him to leave and he really wasn't getting the hint." If he had wanted to hurt the kid, he would have. "The.. pushing him in the water.. just wanted to leave a lasting impression on him to not bother me again. Which, failed, in case you were vaguely wondering."
Ah, finally got that little glob of ink out of the groove. The touch, was.. odd. Unprovoked, and definitely sliding along his cheek–suggesting wet fingertips. Usually if F'ur wanted his attention, F'lix would find his chin seized or .. anything really, but with a firmness behind the contact. Not a light brush. Paranoid mind went to work out a reason of why–f'ur toying with again obviously. Not fair at all. But why? And, then his mind did it, drawing up the image of F'ur's restrained amusement, then the brush that had been on his other cheek. But, and F'lix was rather proud of himself for it, he didn't give any indication toward the suspicious inkling of a hunch he had formed..
F'lix glanced at his hand, then to F'ur's blood soaked sleeve–eyes lingering there a moment before raising to F'ur's face. "Didn't realize.. see a cut, on the hands at least, tend to.. suck the blood off. Didn't really think about it.. until I tasted ink." Why did that sound so weird when voiced. F'lix shrugged the thoughts aside, expression oddly blank on the matter. He didn't have a problem with blood. It could be a rather fascinating substance at times. So?
Shifting around, F'lix set the ink and knife down on the ground, purposely doing it near the water's edge just so he could get a quick glimpse. Oh.. that sneaky bastard. The younger moved back up, turned back toward F'ur, still not giving away that he knew about the whiskers. His brow was knitted, but eyes down on the freshly carved design, thoughtful about their appearance. F'lix made a gesture toward the sunny side of the rock. "Would you stand up, there in the light.. I want to see how it looks when the ankle is bent.. might make adjustments so it doesn't appear scrunched."
Yes. Such a fussy artist, worried about how his artwork would look.
"To answer your question, no." F'lix shrugged, still keeping his gaze on the foot. He never thought about marks, rarely spent any, and the idea of.. sharing his artwork didn't sit well in his stomach. "The skill itself is useless.. just a pastime."
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Post by rii on Sept 21, 2009 23:40:52 GMT -5
"Don't tempt me."
F'lix shot a mock glare up at the Fortian. It was only meant to be a brief glance, but he did notice the suppressed laughter in the other's gaze. Golden eyes narrowed further, suspicious–and exactly what did he find so amusing?–but F'lix soon adverted his gaze to other things. He sat straight and lightly nudged for F'ur to remove his foot rather than just shove it aside. "I want it to heal, see if this part comes out decently before I go about even.. further than entertaining the idea of a kitten." He cracked a smile, the humor of it was not lost on him. F'lix had not really decided what to make it into; he couldn't give a definite answer. So, he gave a faint shrug of one shoulder to communicate the unspoken information.
"Oh yes," F'lix mused with a subtle roll of his eyes–which came out more of his eyebrows raising then lowering in a quick succession. "I've been secretly plotting all these silly ideas just to.. " Pause, blink. "What were you doing there that day? Intervened at a rather convenient time."
The ink dish was slid out of the way, the knife set aside, as F'lix rose onto his knees with a single hand planted ahead of him so he could lean over F'ur's leg (not touching!) and reach for one of the oiled rags he had used earlier to clean off the thickened ink. He then drew back to his original position, moving a bit away from the Fortian and re-crossing his legs, back slightly turned toward the man.
Suddenly going quiet, F'lix kept his gaze to himself and went about cleaning the slender blade. Surely now F'ur would go off.. hunting or such. No reason to stick around since F'lix had voiced being done with the inking. Not that the younger wanted him to go, but.. he didn't like to dwell on those thoughts. But they came unbidden. Shardit. He wasn't clingy, despite F'ur made it sound as if he stalked the Fortian around thinking of ways to get his attention. Actually, lately, he felt the need to just leave F'ur alone. Vaguely he remembered things from when he had been.. knocked silly. And like the subconscious rule he had about not touching F'ur, a new one had risen since that day: leave him alone.
So this F'lix did now, despite that he didn't want to.. but since they were done, he left F'ur alone.
But was he really to blame, this time, that F'ur had been the one to approach. F'lix softly sighed to his own thoughts, eyes on the blade.. perhaps annoyed at the spot of ink stuck in one of the groves. Brows knitted and he rubbed more vigorously at the spot. Slowly growing more irritated with himself, already his thoughts had shifted his mood to a darker note–very clearly brooding on his end of the rock. And, getting too wrapped up with his inner musings, F'lix couldn't seem to bring himself to give more than a dismissive snort to the subjects.
A slight frown creased his features when he noticed the ink and blood coloring his hands. Without thinking, F'lix popped the side of his knuckle into his mouth to clean off a smear of blood. Neh, tasted like ink. He needed to wash his hands.. and his shirt..
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Post by rii on Sept 21, 2009 17:56:16 GMT -5
The little thing had gone back toward the kitchens? Silly thing. Quintrell waited, crossing one arm over his chest, the other arm bent upward so he could fiddle with his earrings. His foot tapped, impatient, always impatient. He didn't care to actually go and watch the salamandyr.. do whatever it was doing. The thing was small, trying to observe it's movements would just be.. annoying. Like studying how a runnerfly buzzed around the stables. Quintrell grinned oddly at the image, then began to spin in a slow circle, head tilted back in mimicry of watching a said fly.
Ah, Showoff was back, Quintrell kick out his foot, doing a quick spin around before hunkered down to peer at the bronze. A hand rose and began to rub at his chin, a very overly thoughtful and appraising expression etched on his features. In the back of his mind he snickered. Spoon dummies. He'd have to remember that one.
"I thought you were a collector of shinies? That's food.. not very shiney.. So no, I don't see why you are better.. " He frowned at the creature, so utterly baffled by how food was better than shinies. "That's not much better than the yums I got.." A sad shake of his head, a sigh of disappointment and then Quintrell rising to turn sharply on heel. He torqued his body around to waggle his fingers purposely at the little bronze, a wave goodbye, or mocking him, who really knew. Quintrell was far too up-beat for anyone to really decipher what he truly felt. "I'm going to go do some real treasure hunting. Spoon dummies aren't much of a challenge."
Bounce in his step, Quintrell began to hum merrily while heading toward the bridge that would take him toward the barracks. He'd go check out the girl's level. They usually had jewelry.
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