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Post by rii on Sept 21, 2009 17:23:27 GMT -5
No. Yes. No. Yes. Nononono.
Quintresk nudged his head against the back of Quintrell's thigh, causing the thief to stumble forward, dramatically flail his arms and plop face-down on the ground. Really, the brown nudged at His' mind this time, knowing he was not hurt, the antics were wholly unnecessary. No one else was around to watch. Quintrell lifted his head, scanned the darkness, then hopped up on his feet, dusting off the front of his chest. "You never know–" Another mental nudge and Quintrell responded with a whine. "I really don't want to go. You teach me just fine."
Flattery won't work, the brown lead the way, and the wayward thief followed close behind. Quintrell wrinkled his nose and squinted at his quiet companion. "You want to go." Maybe. "Then go without me! I don't mind. Really. I insist." The wher just slowed to a halt, lowering his head and curving around to give His a effective look–along with a faint brush of annoyance. Quintrell softly sighed, dropping his resistance to go to the class. The brown wanted to go watch and learn, and Quintrell just dreaded.. having to be stuck around all the others and be expected to behave.
"Race you!"
Quintresk already had began to gracefully lope by the time the words left Trel's mouth–the thief, too, ran before speaking. Bah, couldn't get a headstart on the brown when it could feel the intentions in his mind. The pair slowed as they came closer to the class area. The brown sent a pleasant, polite greeting to his golden clutchsister, giving a slight bow of his head to her, then next to Yosk, equally delighted to see her. A similar, but formal greeting went to Roisk. Then the pair sat, on the edge of the area. Quintresk preferred a position in which he could see all the others, to watch them.. and when Trel sat down, the brown coiled his thin, whip-like tail around the thief's arm. It looked affectionate, but done for an entirely different reason–to keep the youth still. Quintresk settled, lying down, front claws tucked close together to provide a pillow for his head.
"Hello! hello–hi, hi" He directed greetings to each of those present, waggling his fingers at them in an enthusiastic greeting. Oh a question? Something to do! "No flying for us. I think in the end we rely more on our Whers just because without them this whole being in the dark thing? No way it would work out. Oh! And they don't speak in words–what?" A look was shot out at the brown at his side. "I'm sure others are suppose to answer, but I was here first and the sooner we get this over the sooner we can–Oh." The thief frowned. Quintresk reminded him he had been speaking out loud for everyone to hear. Eventually he was going to teach his to put a damper on the words that flooded out from that mouth. Obviously words were a hindrance in comparison to how Wher's communicated with their bonded. At this thought, Quintrell smirked.
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Post by rii on Sept 21, 2009 11:59:52 GMT -5
Numbly he felt the touch and after a delayed second, in which he intently studied the bleeding lines, he turned his head to look at F'ur, as if the other had tapped his shoulder to gain attention. Blink. Huh? None the wiser, F'lix thought nothing more of the phantom-like sensation skimming around in the back of his mind and quietly listened to the list. Slowly his eyes narrowed, a light scoff. "You're no help. I should make it into a kitten playing with a ball of string."
Eyes traced the winding 'string' of a pattern, smirking that he actually could see such a silly thing on the man's foot. Yes, the inside series of lines illustrated something deadly, and the outer impression was utterly ridiculous. Tempting, but no. As a joke it would have been great, but as a public show of his artwork, it would not. Cats, dragons, blood, gore, flowers and eyes.. riiight. F'lix mentally grumbled to himself while trying to pick out a suitable image to subtly mask the written pattern of F'ur's fan dancing. Not that anyone would be able to read it, but he didn't want anyone trying. It was for F'ur only.
"I'm well aware that my common sense diminishes when I get around you," He muttered, feigning offense, now responding to the comments as they replayed in his mind. "But I was weeell out of your reach when I toyed with the idea. More worried about you throwing something.. Mm, but good to know you would have noticed the sound didn't belong." Pause. "I'll have to think of something else now."
A smirk twitched, F'lix purposely keeping his face downcast to avoid snickering–which he probably would if he looked up at F'ur. The complaint was.. highly amused, but in the wrong area of subject to start teasing. Overly snuggly, but quite lethal, Fortian muttering nonsensical threats to imaginary enemies in his sleep. How.. endearing. F'lix briefly pondered over that person's reaction to that. Of course, they probably didn't realize the danger that came with F'ur. Did anyone really know? Still, that single image, F'lix bite down on the tip of his tongue, chest cavity shaking a bit as he held down the laughs.
Mentally, F'lix had come to the end of his memory that had been replying F'ur's form on the beach. He didn't want to start over.. or pick and chose moves to finish off the trail–but it still needed to be longer. Brows knitted and F'lix bent over F'ur's foot and began to draw–and that would be a more fitting description of how he finished off the pattern. Forming the lines into something more smooth, longer, sweeping low up the front of the ankle, turning up the bottom of the shin bone then doubling back in a gentle arc. The end split off in a forked tail.
As he worked a soft smile lightened his features. Since his mind didn't have to replay the memory of F'ur's method with the fans, nor translate it into the abstract art, it freely wandered to other things. Hm, yes there he could use the flaring fan arcs as extending claws.. the winding around the ankle a tail.. near the middle a curve of a long neck.. then down lower a different tail.. a coiling haunch.. A lot of work. Would need to thicken a lot of the lines. Should save it for another day so F'ur's foot didn't turn into a bloody mess.. was running low on ink anyway..
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Post by rii on Sept 20, 2009 21:42:08 GMT -5
F'lix rolled his shoulders, twisting a bit in discomfort as the shirt continued to cling. Hopefully sitting in the sun would at least dry it.. then he could flick the mud off, or such. His gaze remained on F'ur, a faint curiosity there about the odd subject. Brows peaked in the center of his forehead at the second pout, giving the other an (also teasing) look of.. one who worries about another's sanity. "You're right," Near dead-pan. "I can only just barely resist."
Pouting, hn. F'lix didn't pout.. sulked sometimes, that had to be the closest he got to such an expression. And his version of sulking involved.. glares and growls–maybe cute to the odd person. The younger was positive he didn't even know how to manipulate his facial expression to even mimic F'ur's pouting. He slowly shook his head at the very thought and turned his eyes down to his lap. A wry smile crossed his lips, not even going to try it. Probably send children shrieking to their mothers.
"Complaints, hm?" An eyebrow arched, questioning. What, did F'ur put people in holds while sleeping? An amusing thought. F'lix didn't raise his gaze, but smirked none-the-less. He shrugged in initial response to the explanation. Filling the information away, but not thinking too much on it. Not at the moment. Really he was trying to slowly clear his mind so he could go back to the carving. Couldn't do that stewing with troubling thoughts. "It's fine." Though he didn't really get how combat reflexes tied in with touch that didn't even vaguely relate to an attack. But F'ur had said mostly, and F'lix wouldn't pry any further.
A stern look was shot at the wiggling toes, then past them at F'ur's face. F'lix slightly raised his own knee before casually reaching up, grabbing the underside of F'ur's ankle, and guiding the foot to set down against the make-shift 'work table'. It would be easier that way for him to get around the ankle. Maybe a bit uncomfortable for F'ur, but tch.. F'lix was more concerned about getting the design right rather than the Fortian's positioning. A side-long glance casted toward F'ur. "I was tempted to surprise you, the day I saw you running into off toward the beach. Not jump out and say boo! mind you. But just.." He whistled, a good imitation of a bird not from the south, but a northern song bird. "–just to see if you'd notice."
Despite talking on the rather tangent line of conversation, F'lix mind was drifting as he trailed over the pattern already inked into F'ur's foot. Slowly pulling his mind into the trace, line by line, move by move.. flick of wrist, sideskip, flare.. The small blade found the ink dish and he went back to work. Moving the pattern back and over the vulnerable Achilles tendon–careful to be especially light in that area, not just because of the weak spot, but touches there tended to earn reflexive twitches. F'lix went slowly, hand more tense there than usual so he could pull away if F'ur did flinch.
Slicing tendons would be bad.
Once past the tendon, F'lix absently used his fingers to wipe away the blood–not thinking much of the action. He blinked at a sudden thought, "What do you want this to look like in the end.. the .. general picture? Anything you like in particular.. ?"
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Post by rii on Sept 20, 2009 19:42:31 GMT -5
"If you're goin' to short'n it, call me Trel 'cause he's Quintresk. Don't wanna get confused." The youth winked, aware that the gesture was lost in the dark but doing it anyway. He gave Dmitri's hand one last squeeze before the harper could escape, the pressure done with purpose.. so when their hands were apart, the harper wouldn't notice the full loss of pressure.. and that Trel thumbed a new ring down to join his collection.
Quintresk, noticing this–not seeing anything, but sensing the smug satisfaction in his bonded's mind, send a questioning to the thief; probing almost in an obsessive manner to figure out why. Quintrell absently thumbed the piece of jewelry: that. Why? The thief may have answered, but found himself easily distracted by the piece of web that seemed to clinging to his other hand (the one once touching Dmitri's elbow). Yuck spiders! Flailing would properly describe his next action. Off off! Apparently it had gotten snagged by the rings on that hand. Bleh! Quintrell swiped with his free hand to knock the web away..
.. only to realize that piece of webbing was connected to Dmitri's head, and that the 'web' was a piece of hair instead. A sheepish, apologetic grin spread over his boyish features. "Ahaha.. uh.. sorry? Thought it was.. yeah.." Quintrell carefully plucked the piece of hair away from where it had snared around one of the gemmed rings. "That's some long hair you've got friend. Why do you wear it like that? If I had hair that long I'd likely always be stuck in my rings or probably trip over it.."
The brown silently came up, near Dmisk but not enough to crowd. Quintresk did not show it, but he was a bit put off that he didn't understand why His had taken something belonging to the music maker. Again he brushed at his bonded's mind. A mental shrug from the blonde: because he could? Quintrell gave a side glance toward the shadows in where he felt his quiet companion. It's a game, to see how long it takes for them to notice. Hm, Quintresk would have to closely watch this further to understand. For the moment, he sent a friendly questioning to his cluchbrother: How was he, and how did he fair with his chosen? Behind the words also came the polite compliment about the music they had heard. Both the questioning and compliment neatly wrapped together, yet separate in a one single delivery.
"I'm sure what she was suppose to do is spill your guts out over the sand. I'm glad all she did was treat you like a couch. She's okay in my book!" The theif folded his arms behind his back and began to rock, heel to toe, bobbing up and down to some internal rhythm he just couldn't seem to stop. "As for my leech, he's over by your leech, probably talking about leechy things and sharing leechy secrets. Gotta say though, this seein' in the dark thing is fun. Although it does kind of put a hamper on having a social life. I mean, how many people do you meet wanderin' around in the dark? Most people that do you don't want to run into."
The brown gently reminded the thief of the question Dmitri had asked, since Trel's mind had gotten side-tracked by.. many things. "I'm from everywhere! Oh yes. Travelin' since I was but a babe sucking at mother's teat. Been all over the north, sailed the sea, trekked the jungles of the south. But er.. guess I'm kind of stuck here though, eh?" the last part carried a tinge of sadness, but Quintrell recovered quickly, grin doubling in size. "Quintresk wanted to see more of the Weyr, wanna come along?"
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Post by rii on Sept 20, 2009 18:57:20 GMT -5
F'lix heard the snort to his comment, but paid little mind to it. He saw more there than just a fighter, although that was a big part, but let the man take it as he saw fit. F'lix wouldn't force his opinion on the matter. He grew up in Benden, after all, now there in laid monsters. Men who no longer acknowledged other beings as anything more than objects. Where torture was not done to gain information, but to sate a sick twisted hunger for pain and blood. To those unfortunate enough, a quick death would be considered a mercy. And that was behavior outside of battle.
Eyes narrowed on the moving shadow, slyly watching F'ur's approach–but F'lix expression widened (just for a brief moment) when the other removed the hand from hair. The younger had not realized he had still been gripping it in that fashion. Guess his mind had been too busy reflecting, but—
Best not to think about it, he didn't want his thoughts going down that path any further than they already had. Shove them back inside the darkness and hope they were never given light. Fortunate for him, F'ur provided a very decent distraction. Oh, he figured it was an act to cover over other things, but at the moment the bluerider didn't mind. He scoffed, "Hard enough though." What if he wanted to be bitten again? Hn. F'lix eyebrow arched at the.. was that a pout? He let his eyes 'casually' drift down to his blade, examining the inked tip while trying not and let the amusement brim too brightly in his eyes. "Now that's a scary look."
Two steps brought him back to the boulder, he gave the other a brief glance–silently, sarcastically communicating that 'warning' he was suppose to give before making any sudden movements. Then he hopped up, crossing his legs underneath himself and pulling the ink dish closer. No intention of reaching for the foot, or scooting closer. F'lix didn't want a replay of the last event. He'd wait for F'ur to give him.. the foot. It was just a foot. Before he could stop himself, he spit out the question. "Do you not like being touched, or am I just a special?"
F'lix kind of.. leaned away after asking it. Hoping not to get kicked for it.
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Post by rii on Sept 20, 2009 18:06:11 GMT -5
No flinching, what an odd one–said pot to kettle.
"So it seems," F'lix drawled, eyebrow arching as he eyed the brownrider, of who showed no concern about stretching long in front of him. Either in some odd arrogant display, or foolishness, the bluerider felt the urge to land a quick strike on the solar plexus. A gentle reminder, if anything. Instead, F'lix continue to try and read any sort of hidden clue to bring clarity to the situation. He had not given T'san any reason to behave anything but.. hateful toward him. Oh, the bluerider did occasionally do his random acts of kindness (under a glare, and mean guise) but he had not done such a thing to this one. It all had to be a ruse. F'lix would simply have to test his own patience and wait it out. "Let's say I'm.. undecided.. about my luck today."
Arms still crossed, left fingers lightly tapped against right arm. The different emotions that changed so quickly on T'san face were just.. ridiculous. F'lix had heard the phrase of wearing one's heart on their sleeve, but this was just a tad over-excessive, right?
"Oh, are you having fun with me then?" Only Faranth knew how. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not a very entertaining individual." F'lix eyed his own sleeve, then idly flicked away an invisible spec of dust. Mhm. Very boring. "But since I'm here, might as well make the most of it. What do you do for fun?"
Saboth tilted his head, his whole neck curving with the action. I don't think so.. but I like to fish in the water, not flying above it. The gray-blue rose and slipped back into the waters, pausing in the shallows to gaze back at Dsoleth–silently communicating for the brown to follow.
I like to herd them.. they respond well to reflections. Saboth arched his back up, just enough for Dsoleth to watch his motions.. of flicking his wings forward so that the pale undersides seemed to 'flash' with the sunlight. It took some practice, but I can get a fairly decent group gathered.. then you move them into a small section of the river, trap them in and catch as many as you can.
Saboth lightly sent a splash at Dsoleth before slipping into deeper waters.
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Post by rii on Sept 20, 2009 12:22:10 GMT -5
F'lix flinched, but F'ur was too fast, too effective, already pinning him to the ground. Slightly muddy ground at that, cause being from Saboth's earlier damming of the stream. Despite being a bit perturbed at the feeling of soft, wet earth molding against his back, the younger did take notice that the end result of F'ur's move wasn't painful–more of a means to keep him from moving rather than be threatening. F'lix responded to that by remaining lax, not trying to fight F'ur off. That sort of physical contact didn't fuel his temper–although it still remained, lightly flaring with each heartbeat, simmering in his eyes as he continued to glare at the Fortian's.. confusion?
F'lix's anger abated somewhat at the lack of animosity from F'ur. "I don't get you either, so we're even there." He retorted under his breath. Warily F'lix let his gaze slip over F'ur's face while listening, trying to find any sort of ruse behind the words. His brows began to knit together, thinking, but for the moment his lips remained closed. Besides, anything he was preparing to say got shoved to the back of his mind when F'ur neared. The words he shared were dangerous, but.. in a twisted way, flattering. But at least F'lix had gotten the idea behind them–just needed to ignore the other was too close. Before F'lix could let feeling delve too deeply, to start hating the fact he was attracted to this older man, F'ur rolled aside–distance. Distance did good to clear the mind.
Laying there, F'lix remained silent and for a long moment stared up at the sky. Replaying F'ur's words for a second listening, without any misleading tangents of actions involved. Then, quite suddenly, F'lix was on his feet. Standing a bit rigid, back facing the supine Fortian. Shoulders were slightly hunched, hands held slightly away but still loose at his sides, still on edge. That, or loathing the way his muddied shirt stuck to his skin. Perhaps a mixture of both. Absently, during his rise, F'lix had flipped the small blade around to hug against the inside of wrist and forearm, but fingers were still open, very easily hiding it, completely inconspicuous if he had been facing anyone.
"You have a strange way of making a compliment sound like it's a bad thing." Not quite an insult, but F'lix had definitely gotten the impression that his memory was not a good thing. "I learn well enough by watching." And that had been one of the reasons he wanted to watch F'ur. If the man chose not to teach him, F'lix was still determined to learn from him–one way or another. Just so happened F'lix was a visual learner. The younger enjoyed learning, even though it just was not the same as if he was being taught. There was a great difference, to him, between learning a move from a teacher–the why and how, than just observing it in a demonstration. The latter way he had to guess and just incorporate it into his own use–not knowing the full extent of it.
"But you're giving it too much credit. I can't do what you can do.. " A touch admiring of the other's skill. F'lix didn't even entertain the idea ever becoming that good. Even if he could remember it all and mimic the motions with little err, he lacked the.. passion.. that seemed to tie itself in the way the Fortian moved. Part of which made it so appealing to watch the man."I'm sorry it bothers you. I can't turn it off. I don't mean to do it.." His free hand raised, dismissively waving through the air. He understood, somewhat, the idea that F'ur did not like to be.. figured out. But really, F'lix didn't know much of the man at all.. "If it's any consolation, there's more to you than just your fighting style."
Hn. Scowling slightly to himself, and the empty clearing ahead of him, F'lix curled his arm back to pick at the shirt clinging to his frame. Dirty. The younger didn't mind blood, but anything else.. especially mud, and the way the fabric clung to his skin. He wanted it off. "I'll finish it." He finally decided, the words soft. "But," The tone took on a dark note, the hand snapping up to fist in his short hair–similar to the way F'ur had done to him, but with a more violent edge. "Don't–" his fingers curled further, almost going white with what made him so angry about the action. "–grab me like that."
Then, as an afterthought, "Please." It came out in a near growl, but at least he said it.
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Post by rii on Sept 19, 2009 22:13:51 GMT -5
Hearing the growl, F'lix quickly retracted his touch from F'ur's leg–realizing his mistake. Touching F'ur always had dangerous results, albeit the younger had no idea why. Yes he had been practically wrapped around the man's leg moments ago (and was trying to move away now), but that had been mostly necessary. The tracing of where he wanted the pattern to go, apparently, had been too much. The realization came too late, because that hand was already in his hair.. but now that it was shorter, F'lix could slip away.. he could..
Instead, a strange obedience made him stiffen, freeze in his motions, and allow the man to guide his head. Eyes narrowed to thin slits as a guarded demeanor wiped the rest of the expression off his features. The only thing left to translate his inner mood were those golden orbs, and they burned. His temper had been brushed, by one touch, sparking that flame, and F'lix wanted–badly–to get right up in F'ur's face; to meet and challenge the man's dangerous, cold demeanor with that fire. But he fought the urge–mostly, F'lix couldn't completely stop himself from leaning toward F'ur, slightly up on his hands, body twisted just a fraction– a distinct impression of coiling, almost as if he had intentions of pouncing the man (but not in fun and games). Luckily, he didn't make it quite far enough in the motions to make it a full, or truly threatening move.
F'lix, fighting with himself, forced himself to draw back, internally seething, and focus on the words rather than responding instantly to his temper. Anger, often enough, made him go deaf to speech–actions before thoughts. He did not appreciate being handled that way. Last time F'ur had done it, F'lix had left a nice impression of his teeth on the man's hand. Anywhere else he didn't care, but when it came to his head and neck, F'lix tended to snap–violently (Had he not broken F'ur's finger during a bought of anger from a simple touch to his facial scars?).
"Yes, I have an excellent memory. So?" Hostility. The anger had to vent one way or another. His gift of memory was more of a curse at times. There were so many things he'd rather forget, not re-live in perfect detail. F'lix was completely away from F'ur now, not off the boulder, yet, but no longer making physical contact. Did he not befit the part of an abused animal?–bristling with anger, ready to fight, but still shying away from the hand it knew to strike. The glare glanced at the foot, before returning steadily to F'ur's face. Shards. What was that man's problem? "I don't want to dissect you," He spat the word, clearly insulted by F'ur's implication. "You wanted me to do this, and I was trying to do something that might appeal to you, that Faranth forbid, you might like. I'm not going to finish it since you don't. Why would you–willingly–want something on you that makes you.. whatever this is."
With his empty hand he gestured vaguely to F'ur's face. "You might as well try to wash some of the ink out before it sets in." He muttered, a softer more calm tone as his anger receded–not completely, as all it would take was a single gust to make it blaze wildly one more. He unfurled and began to remove himself from the boulder.
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Post by rii on Sept 19, 2009 16:34:30 GMT -5
If the other was close, F'lix didn't notice–too engrossed in his work. Even after he stopped, spoke, his eyes and mind were solely on the inked lines. Tracing and re-tracing. Absently he took the rag and lightly pressed it over a section of the pattern, soaking up the blood that had risen and welled up on the skin–hiding the lines underneath. For a few long, silent moments F'lix didn't respond. Face blank and eyes narrowed; brimming with the intensity of his concentration. He had heard F'ur speak, but in a distracted sort of way, his mind storing the words aside until he had a free moment to replay them. Slowly they began to trickle in to his conscious..
Despite the.. slightly demeaning way F'ur had voiced about opting to teach him, F'lix let a faint smile grace his features. No delusions of self-grandeur, not this Bendenite. The younger bluerider was confident, prideful–when it came to his faith and understanding in himself–but when it came to other people and what they thought of him, his self-confidence crashed and burned. Hate was much, much more reliable. That, at least, he could understand. They couldn't think much worse of him if they already loathed him. But F'lix didn't mind any of this. He would be grateful for any opportunity to learn from the man.
Drawing out of his daze, bit by bit, F'lix blinked and turned to view the side of F'ur's face. Golden eyes then trailed back down to the carving, voice soft. "It's a bit of a.. 'in the eye of the beholder'.. for me it's.." He traced, through the air just above, the tip of the blade over one of the lines–then lifted his arm and slowly demonstrated the sweeping motion with his arm, just one part of the movement he had wanted to illustrate. Knife came down again, F'lix brought attention to a small, sharp half-arc coming off of the winding pattern. This one he showed, quickly flicking his wrist in the way F'ur had done to flare a fan. He couldn't really show all of it without standing.. and even then he wouldn't even come close to what F'ur did–and really he'd feel entirely too silly to even try. He only hoped that the Fortian might begin to see all the movements translated into the design..
He let the silence stretch, wanting to give F'ur a chance to recognize the movements, then figure out what was being conveyed through the series of flowing, dancing lines. All the better when the person could see it for themselves rather than trying to force them to see it from his perspective. A part of him was pleased that F'ur had been able to see beyond the outer level, just that one big picture. In the end F'lix would form it into something whole.. just so when other people looked at it they saw something, but hidden within that image would be something personal, a description and interpretation all on their own–not anything that just anyone would be able to glance upon, read and understand; if they tried likely it would be misread. Even those parts reminded F'lix of F'ur.
"It's a.. translation of what you were doing with the fans." He said simply, gaze flicking down–this time in a nervous gesture. "What do you think of it?" If the other didn't like it, he wouldn't continue. But if F'ur didn't mind.. "I want to curl it up around the ankle," He trekked a finger back, then around, curling up toward the front and up the bottom of the shin bone, a faint trail of red being left behind from the smears on his fingertips. "Like an anchoring point.. that could be turned into a tail of sorts, depending on what you would like it to look as in the end."
The younger went quiet, waiting for a verdict.
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Post by rii on Sept 18, 2009 22:23:59 GMT -5
"But that would ruin the surprise." The last part he said wryly, illustrating that he was well aware of the fact that catching the Fortian unaware was not a wise move. He chuckled softly, arching back a bit–close, but as usual, never making full contact with the man. He turned his face toward F'ur's, smirking. "What should I have said? Hopping into your lap now, please refrain from breaking my neck?"
Settling back down, F'lix unraveled the tightly bound leather strips from the new blade. Once revealed looked more like a surgical tool, very slender and easily hidden in a skilled hand. A tool for someone who could get in close to use it to it's full extent; between the ribs or through the eye. F'lix could, just because people did view him as harmless. That subtle allure he had helped, drawing them in close, or allowing him to pass into personal space that no one but a lover should know. He examined the delicate tool, holding it lightly as if it were a brush. Yes, this would do well enough..
F'lix's slender shape arranged itself around F'ur's up-bent leg. Back curving, right arm hugging around the limb, chin resting against the side of knee cap. Both hands were down on the foot, along with his calculating gaze. The positioning allowed him to be close to the digit, while also being able to feel any forewarning of movements–in case F'ur did twitch. Men could boast all the want about being able to stand a little pain, but F'lix didn't want to risk easily slicing the Fortian open with the sharpe edge because it itched/tickled/etc. F'ur could see what was going on, if he leaned forward. F'lix was not secretive about his work, and didn't get nervous when watched, maybe because he tended to phase out when he did draw.
"Very true." He replied idly about pain, voice a bit distant and his fingers and wrist making fluid strokes through the air. Practicing the cuts he wanted to make. No room for mistakes. The actions came to an abrupt halt, F'lix head even lifted slightly. "You're going to teach me.. ?" Eyebrows knitted, the thread of confusion burning inside his chest. He gaze slipped to the side, trying to see F'ur on the reflection of the water. "I never know what you really mean, F'ur. You're hot then your cold. You say one thing, then in the next moment it's another." The bump to his stomach interrupted his thoughts, drawing his gaze down, he took the dish with a quiet thanks and set it next to F'ur's foot.
To the challenging tone, F'lix grunted, snapping his teeth at the side of F'ur's leg. Not stalling, just letting the other know the added details. Tch. The younger male settled back down against the limb, closing his eyes for a moment to re-imagine what he had in mind. Choosing something he hoped would appeal to the older man, because once done, could not be undone–unless F'ur had no problem with flaying off his own skin. Hand began to mimic motions in the air. Fan dancing, is what F'lix was remembering, at least the amount he had watched at the beach. He had an excellent memory, seeing everything as it had been, there was a reason why F'lix learned so well from demonstrations.
Golden eyes opened, hazed, blade dipped into ink, then he began just below the pinky toe. Small, smooth lines, curving– moving– dancing. Some lines twined together in an intricate, tight and fast move. Others arced away from the serpentine trail, half-arcs to represent the flaring, the blind. Periodically the sharp edge dipped back into the dish, but the movement never stopped for a moment. Feather-light, never cutting too deeply, or hesitating. F'lix only pulled away when he started leading the design up and around the jutting side bone of the ankle; half done. He examined the inked lines, noting those areas that were meant to be shaded in at a later time. All together, even just being an outline, taking it in as one design it came off a very sleek.. something serpent.. draconic.. feline.. He wasn't sure what to make it in the end. It was smooth, flowing, deadly. Abstract, of course, but F'lix could see all the small pieces that made up the whole.
"Would you get me a piece of clean cloth from the pack behind you?"
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Post by rii on Sept 18, 2009 20:52:10 GMT -5
F'lix scowled lightly, thoughtful, as he straightened his posture. The grin and cheerful demeanor of the brownrider seemed genuine. T'san hardly even reacted, except to chuckled. It made the bluerider want to prod and poke at the man just to prove that nice people were a myth–all just an elaborate act. Humans were born as selfish, needy creatures. Politeness, compassion, all that had to be learned. Yet, despite giving in to the usual whim of curiosity often enough, F'lix felt no desire to pry into T'san to find any inner demons. The brownrider wasn't really doing anything. Passive in a way, cracking off jokes..
I told you, he seems nice. How sad.
Arching an eyebrow, F'lix quietly observed the man's antics. Help? Hn. The Bendenite reached over and.. lightly dusted at T'san's shoulder–just to see if the other would flinch away. F'lix had to hold back a grimace at the new nickname. He was starting to get the feeling that T'san was making them purposely horrible. Almost worked to make F'lix give his real name just to avoid hearing any more.
Responding to the question, F'lix absently turned the bruised side, also being the scarred half, of his face towards T'san. The ocean was certainly not a much quieter place. Even there F'lix managed to find himself trouble–although he let himself get hurt. Not the smartest move on his part, but when it came to that Fortian.. F'lix lightly shook the thoughts from his head. Saboth tail twitched with agitation that His was thinking of that one again. But, simply, they were at the river because it was closer–and his dragon usually didn't urge him to join with cheery strangers.
"But then I would miss out on the opportunity to meet with such humorous brownriders such as yourself, T'san." Spoken in a normal tone, nearly without a hint of mockery. Although that name, after speaking it, sounded familiar. F'lix fixed his eyes back on the taller man, searching his face for a clue. Only a moment, before the golden orbs slitted playfully at the other. "Unless, you want me to leave? And here I thought were were starting to get along."
Saboth lifted his head from the grass and playfully fanned his wings as he looked at Dsoleth. Do you like to fish?
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Post by rii on Sept 18, 2009 16:44:46 GMT -5
Aw, Quintrell lightly pouted, Mihkal didn't even ask if he was okay. The thief did just fall from the top bunk–and it didn't matter that he had done it on purpose. Not like the other boy knew that. Quintrell had long ago perfected his act. Nearly flawless. He was such a 'klutz'. But, those thoughts flew aside, he was not one to linger on a single idea. Deep thoughts? Not this one.
"I'm Quintrell. You can call me Quin, or Trel. My sister would call me Quinny and Trelly when she wanted to annoy me, but it never worked, so whatever you prefer." Cheery and bright, dimples flashing in a broad grin, the thief sat up and seized Mihkals hand and gave a few firm pumps before releasing the limb. No rings, not interesting. He listened to the other's share of information, glad that the candidate kept it short. "Sounds like one big caravan family." Blink, train of thought switched tracks. "I want to find a nest of firelizard eggs to sell."
Of course he didn't mention that his uncle wasn't a mastersmith, nor his father a seller–and his sister couldn't carry a tune to save her life. Lies were much more fun. He nodded in earnest at the fact that Mihkals' boot was unlaced. A finger pointed at the laces for emphasis. Gee the other was giving him a snotty look (in his not so humble opinion). Harumph. "Here, let me tie it for you. Musta not have tied it tight enough." And Quintrell did just that, not waiting for permission. His fingers easily and quickly re-did the laces and he beamed up at Mihkal once finished.
"Anything can be fun. Could go swimming, could go looking for firelizard eggs, could go sneak a peek at the Wher clutch, could go steal people's clothes from the bath houses, could go eat, could go see if one of the dragons will give us a ride, could go watch the weyrlings, could go–"
Someone stop him, he could go on for hours with the random nonesense.
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Post by rii on Sept 18, 2009 16:23:14 GMT -5
Work halted by Inocenth, Saboth watched the dark blue go by, tempted to nudge the other out of the way. Fortunately, for his own safety, he didn't act on the urge and calmly went back to concentrating on his task. How old? Saboth arched his neck to peer over at the tight ball of blue. He didn't know how old he was, and didn't understand the meaning behind the question, what did it matter. So he sent a mental shrug to the other dragons–letting it mix in with his jaded sense of concern.
The faded blue plopped down in the water, but huffed with irritation that it still was not deep enough to fully cover his body. Muddy too compared to the actual river. Tail sloshed noisily through the water as Saboth rose and climbed out onto the shore, fanning his wings to dry. He glanced at the unsociable dark blue, huffing again, then swiveled his head around to view the two riders. Fine, if that bluepair were going to stay, Saboth was going to.. find something else to do. His bonded had been in more dangerous situations with the man, and that man, this was rather.. tame in comparison. Saboth didn't like it, but he didn't feel all that worried over His' safety. Little he could do to prevent harm if it did occur. Best to ignore it.
The blue lauched himself into the air, pumping strongly to tightly circle high into the sky..
—
"Whiskers." F'lix repeated with a hint of incredulity. He peered at the man from under lowered brows, lightly shaking his head at the man in jest. A smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. "You were right." he purposely paused, wrinkling his nose at the man. "Your sense of humor isn't very good when drunk." Although, F'lix did find it amusing, in the cute sort of way he wouldn't mention to a war-hardened man like F'ur. Hn, but he really shouldn't tease at the other, even if it was all light sarcasm, toned down with a faint smile, and borderline caution. He didn't want F'ur to take it the wrong way. A sliver of worry pierced his chest, and suddenly F'lix didn't want to go through with his own offer. But (perhaps foolishly) he brushed the feeling aside. Quietly he added, "No one is getting whiskers."
The last comment, however, made F'lix's brows raise and a sly smile curve on his features, golden eyes flickering with amusement. Too easy, the man was practically handing that one over on a silver platter. The younger politely refused, at least to verbally respond, merely letting his eyes make a suggestive pass over the Fortian–all in a playful manner. F'ur already knew that F'lix held an attraction toward him, but the younger knew it was an unrequited feeling. A dead end path. Wouldn't tease in that direction, not on a conscious level anyway. Those were dangerous waters, at least they were for F'lix. Liked the man a bit too much to play that game. A more appropriate answer was given instead, F'lix made a motion for F'ur to turn and sit facing the sun.
He hopped over to the side of the boulder and moved himself around to stand in front of the Fortian. "Hold this please," the ink dish was handed over. A shadow cast over F'ur's foot, and well aware of this, F'lix didn't seem to show concern over the matter. He was looking directly at the Fortian's face, very solemn in expression, waiting to catch the other's gaze. "Don't go all defensive on me."
That was the only warning he gave before hopping up on the rock, sitting with his back facing F'ur's chest, then pulling the man's foot to set just in front of his lap–putting the leg in an bent, upright position like he had his own earlier. This was the angle he wanted, to look down at the foot from the proper perspective so when F'ur viewed the tattooing it would make sense. As much as F'lix had it in his head not to touch the Fortian, that rule had to be broken for the time being. The younger knew he was rather.. vulnerable in this position–but maybe the fact that F'ur could easily plunge a dagger into his back, or snap his neck from behind would put the older in a state of calm? F'lix did worry about the man's seemingly-automatic combat reflexes..
F'lx waited, slightly tensed, until he figured F'ur would tolerate the arrangement. "I don't know how well you tolerate pain, and I can't tell you how much it will hurt. It does, I assure you, but I don't really feel pain unless it's.. really bad. So please try not to jerk.. or kick me. Tell me to stop if you're going to move." Experimentally F'lix touched his fingers against the top of F'ur's foot. Being ever so cautious of the man. Treating him more like a feline, casually eyeing him approach but ever ready to act within the blink of an eye and able to rip him apart if he felt the need.
"I have an idea or what I want to do, but if there is anything you like, or prefer, tell me now." The marks would be permanent, afterall. "Whatever I start now, likely won't be finished in a day. I won't tolerate half-finished work by my hands, so you'll have to put up with me again in the future." Just a quirk of his, almost an obsessive compulsive–such as seeing bad handwriting made him cringe and want to rewrite entire archives.
Anything else? F'lix scrounged his mind, slightly torquing his body so the side of his face directed toward F'ur behind him. But he only saw the man out of peripherals, because he was staring distantly out over the stream as he thought. He wanted to get everything out in the open before he started. Give the man one last chance to back out, because F'lix did have F'ur's interests in mind. The younger wasn't about just 'carve' away because the Fortian whimsically gave him permission. He wanted full, complete permission and understanding before he took action. It came out of his respect for the older man.
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Post by rii on Sept 18, 2009 3:10:20 GMT -5
Really?
Saboth ducked off to the side, but the action much too slow to be serious, and he would have been mauled if Inocenth had not stopped. He didn't really know how close he had come to getting ripped open, because he had not given the other a reason to react so violently. It didn't make much sense to him. What an odd one. Guess the dark blue didn't like getting splashed. Just water. He didn't have to get all dramatic about it. Saboth rumbled at the dragon, eyes whirling curiously, almost questioning why–but, Saboth didn't care much anymore. In the end, the dark blue was out of his way.
Splashing back into the middle of the stream, Saboth headed back down to his original spot. Where he could see His and.. try to ignore the other two. He wanted the bluepair to go away, but his bonded.. didn't. Very annoying. Tail tip swirled irritably through the sluggish water and the blue turned back to his original distraction–pushing the rocks and soil away to make a deeper pool. Stew privately and pretend other two were not even there.
—
"And you're not a good person to bore," F'lix quoted with a playful undertone, then lightly bit the inside of his bottom lip but a half-smiled came through none-the-less. Returning the shrug, the younger looked back down at his foot, quickly resuming an interest in the design. "It is rather dull down here, compared to the north. I know I keep coming out here with hopes of finding something.. interesting. And you.. I don't think I've ever seen you in the Weyr." Besides the incident in the infirmary. That didn't count, or at least F'lix tried not to think about it.
Golden eyes, widened slightly with surprise, went from F'ur's wiggling toes to his evasive gaze. The man was going to allow him to.. take a dagger to his skin? F'lix carefully kept his expression calm, and mostly blank–although he felt like positively beaming at the older man. "Lucky you, I never did get to see what you drew. Although I got a few funny looks when I left.." An skeptical eyebrow raised, almost questioning what the drunken drawings had been, but not. He'd never think to do such a thing anyway. These marks were meant to be permanent, if anything, F'lix wanted to make it worthwhile–such an opportunity wouldn't come by a second time.
Twisting around, F'lix slid off the rock and stood on one foot–keeping the right raised to avoid getting dirt in the cuts. "Clean your foot." He suggested lightly with a vague nod toward the stream. F'lix pulled his dagger off the boulder to clear a space for F'ur, then hopped over to find the tin that had been knocked aside. Fortunately it had landed upright and still held enough ink for what F'lix had in mind. Back to the side of the boulder, he folded his right leg up behind the left knee, easily balancing as he bent to dig through the small pack he had carried out with him. A smaller, clean blade wrapped in leather was retrieved and place in his waistband. Next were some ragged pieces of cloth, a bottle of oils.. which F'lix combined to clean off the sappy ink from dagger he had previously used.
Once done taking care of the blade, F'lix sheathed it and shifted his attention back to F'ur, a patient look. F'lix didn't want to appear too eager, or likely the Fortian would change his mind. Highly possible the man still would, but.. F'lix was being a tiny bit hopeful.. in the back, far corner of his mind.
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Post by rii on Sept 17, 2009 17:57:26 GMT -5
Saboth had more fun watching Dsoleth's reactions than observing the two riders. The brownpair must have a strong link, he thought without a hint of emotion. His own bond with his rider had suffered too much over the years. Saboth couldn't remember what it use to be like. Stronger, surely. That or he had merely grown jaded to his rider's antics, hardly reacting to situations unless absolutely necessary. But, watching the large brown, Saboth couldn't help but let a few green spirals whirl through his eyes. Could practically read the man's reactions through his dragon. These Saboth subtly watched, under half lowered lids, for any warning signs..
The smile remained in place, golden eyes all but glowing with an inner, dark pleasure. Being close, personal, was exactly where F'lix liked to be when he killed a man. Get in past his defenses, intimate, then the warm spill of blood. Lucky for the brownrider such exchanges were discouraged. No marring those youthful features. Nice eyes too. F'lix once knew a man that liked to cut such pretty things out.
Hn, but this one didn't seem uncomfortable with the close proximity and the borderline flirtations. Most quickly distanced themselves. At least the smart ones did. Then the nickname, to this F'lix raised an eyebrow. Pretty? Although it brought out suspicions, F'lix would have thought the brownrider to think down a different line. To call him pretty, with the scars so painfully in view–must be meant to insult. Such a pretty little thing. Ah, but the blade was sheathed. Good brownrider, F'lix mentally praised him.
With fingers still pressing against T'san's wrist, F'lix lean toward the taller rider–bringing his face close to hover in the warmth by the other's neck. Not touching, but it was hard to believe he wasn't making any contact, the action very close to being a nuzzle. "It's not easy," the words were quiet, purring, and even though his lips were close to T'san's ear, the other would have to listen closely to hear each one. "So.." fingers roamed up from wrist, moving just past the elbow. "..very.." the other hand skimmed over the shirt covering T'san's abdomen–moving to the same side as the first hand. ".. tempting."
Both hands seized the arm and F'lix turned quickly on the spot, stepping back into T'san's stance–kicking out one of his feet in the process. Making the man unbalanced enough to pull, using hip as a fulcrum point, to throw the taller rider clean over his shoulder. F'lix crossed his arms, remaining doubled at the waist to look down at the brownrider–expression empty of the previous playfulness and replaced with something akin to apathy. "You shouldn't let strangers get so close."
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