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Post by rii on Sept 9, 2009 10:58:26 GMT -5
Saboth rose in altitude, turning in tight circles on a small thermal. As the sunlight feel over his hide it shifted hues with each turn–darkening into a rich dark blue then fading in a calm gray-blue. When she dropped the first time, Saboth gave a quick thrust with his wings to propel him forward, then a second pump with just the right–both wings curling around his body as he twirled down after the green. He went further down, flaring his wings open just above the tree tops–large wings easily managing the strain of the sudden change in motion. His limbs and tail sagged a bit with the momentum, catching leaves and twigs before he was gliding forward, a sharp turn then he was rising up once more.
She had chosen, and Saboth just rumbled to himself–not upset, but it was a bit of laughter. If she had not been so 'busy' he may have thanked her for the flight. It had been fun. The blue gave a lazy barrel roll through the air, falling back down toward the trees, again stopping just before impact, his wings manipulating the force to shoot him back toward the river—
—Feet dug into earth, skidding across loose rubble as F'lix crouched to firmly plant his hands against the ground to provide even further friction. His entire body arching against the forward momentum. The rocks dug into his bare hands and feet, pin pricks of pain mingling with slick blood made themselves known in the back of his thoughts, but certainly not felt. He snarled, the actions all F'lix and not Saboth. He did not want to jump off into the water. Saboth did, the blue was not afraid, he liked diving and the water–but F'lix did not like swimming.
He shot a glare up into the sky, shoved back away from the cliff. He expected the blue's drive to fill him again, to give him the motivation to dive over the side into the waters below. But no, the flight was over, Saboth's gentle mind didn't invade again, but instead faded from his conscious. The bluerider remained crouched, lifting his palms up to examine the caking of blood and dirt, concentrating on the stinging the pain to bring his mind further back to reality–at least until his mind acknowledge he was not alone.
Golden eyes narrowed and snapped onto the two men. His eyes drifted over F'ur's posture, thoughtful, then the gaze flicked at R'el. No. F'lix did not take flightmoths, and he certainly wasn't going to be one. Not when he was more or less in the right state of mind. He gripped a handful of rocks and ground them roughly between his torn palms, his eyes flashing darkly as his mind latched on to the unpleasant sensation and rolled, twisted with the blood. The youth rose to his feet and briskly set back up the path, Wiping, smearing the sides of his pants with blood as he went.
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Post by rii on Sept 8, 2009 3:09:13 GMT -5
"Alright."
Be quiet and he could watch. F'lix was certain he could manage such a thing, even though he had been doing that exact thing when the bird started up a fuss, then a the whole flock. And then–oh, arms around him–Felix leaned back, back of his head tilted to rest against F'ur's shoulder. "You've got feathers in your hair." A hand reached up, went for a feather but paused before touching the man. F'lix frowned, went to reach again with the same sudden apprehension, and in the end he lowered his empty hands back down to his sides.
"I figured I deserved it. You know, for making you angry. I obviously was doing something wrong but you weren't telling me. So then I really did something bad. It's suppose to make things even." He blinked, looking confused. "I don't think it worked. And my head really hurts, I think I should of dodged. That's a bad side of my head, why do they always hit there.." He wrinkled his nose at the other. "And you're not pretty. I didn't let you hit me 'cause you're pretty. You're good looking, but not pretty. I did it because.. well you know. You're the one in–" He paused, looking downtrodden for a moment. "–No you're not. Why do I keep thinking that? You're not anything like that. He's just got that stuck in my head. Keep seeking it out. Makes no sense. Can't help it."
His chin slowly sank down, gaze trailing lazily across the ground. He nodded mutely to F'ur's question.
Saboth unfurled from his nap upon hearing Snarly in his head. Mine is always broken. What happened this time? The dragon craned his neck around, trying to reach his rider but only feeling a sadly familiar darkness. Safely he assumed F'lix was in the infirmary, again, because that just made sense. He had not felt any distress from his bonded's end, and Inocenth didn't exactly say he needed to fetch him. So it made perfect sense. Seems he is knocked out, he mumbles in his sleep sometimes. I'm sure as long as he is one piece, he will fix himself, or the healers will. Always gets better does Mine.
F'lix peered up from his newly acquired sitting position, eyes nearly yellow in the bright sunlight. Again he rubbed at his ear, it was getting hard to hear out of that side. The ringing had faded, but now he couldn't hear the constant crashing of the waves on that side. Squishy. Fingers were getting coated with blood. Hm, he peeked a quick glance at the Fortian. Looked away with a frown. Must not have been quiet enough to watch. Hn. F'lix eyed the warm, pale sands with an odd smile. A nap sounded nice. Oh, no, but then he'd miss it. F'lix trained his eyes back on F'ur with a determined interest. But soon he swayed, eyes unfocused–only to jerk back and re-align his sights.
"Hey.. " He lifted a hand to touch F'ur's leg, but the same thing happened as it did when he reached for the feathers. Fingertips paused before contact, hovered, then slowly curled into his palm. That same look of uncertainty in his eyes. Something else stirred there, focusing and F'lix brows began to crease in a faint scowl–then it was gone. Golden eyes hazed, drooping to gaze at the sparkling sands.
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Post by rii on Sept 8, 2009 0:50:37 GMT -5
F'lix felt quite shocked when his foot connected with F'ur's ankles. He only had that tiny moment of regret before Fur came at him in a flourish of color and motions. As the fan's snapped, so too did F'lix head, snapping to the side with the blow that struck just above the junction of his jaw, but below the temple. His body tilted to the side, forcing him to brace with an arm. It didn't come as a surprise really, and it hurt, enough that he couldn't ignore the sensation. At least this time he had been punished for his transgression. But oddly he didn't feel it evened out matters at all. He still felt terrible.
He gently licked the corner of his lips, a coppery flavor, and with a light touch he tinged his fingertip with red. Gingerly he opened his mouth, stretch the jaw muscle out and hearing a grinding sound echoing in his skull. A faint ringing in his ear. He blinked almost in a dumbfounded way up at F'ur, having trouble focusing on the man–who had lost his usual composure. Oh no, F'lix thought strangely, he broke him. What a strange thought. The younger bluerider shook his head, trying to put the thoughts back into proper place and perspective. Slowly F'lix reverted to siting in a lazy half-crossed legged pose, hands hanging limply in the sand. MmMm, he felt so liiight.
"Oh."
Quite the intelligent response in a light tone. "I guess feeling important enough for someone to want to personally kill me was nice. I know it's stupid. I don't get it either." He smiled, then winced, bringing a hand up to the side of his face, confused at the feeling of pain. "I know you hate me, but I needed a reminder, huh?" Idly he rubbed the soreness radiating near his cheekbone. He must have done something really wrong to deserve it. "That's one of the reasons I left, you know." His tone was drifting, and his gaze not quite staying on F'ur's face. "Always fighting, day and night, couldn't trust your own shadow. I got tired of fighting, but I guess I can't stop – eh? – Torture? Why would I want that? Ja'kin did something like that. He got weird, use to be nice. He was just a liar though–about the nice part. Nice people are liars."
Yes, defiantly something knocked loose in his head. It was tickling his ear too, F'lix began to itch at it, fingers coming away more red than they had been before. Really, the Fortian had just been unlucky to strike an old wound, a fracture in the skull that had healed poorly in his childhood. And likely a light concussion as well, if F'lix child-like ramblings were any clue. His eyes re-focused in on F'ur's face, and he seemed to brighten. "Hey–oh–you want me to go? But, I just came here to watch you. You're really good. Can't I just watch? I'll be quiet." Squinting, he tilted his head trying to figure out F'ur's expression. "I made you mad?" His own expression became crested-fallen, sad. "I'm sorry. Can't seem to get it right, can I.. but you don't make it easy, you know."
He glared, half-heartedly before blinking a few times. "Sure I can't stay? You said you don't like being alone. I know I'm not good company, but at least I am company, you know? Kind of like.. at least bad attention is still attention, right? Heh." F'lix wobbled, raising one foot up, bracing with an arm, then slowly rising to his feet. "Don't look so so.. whatever that face is. Alright? I'll go I'll go. Sheesh. Kind of got dark fast anyway." Yes, despite it being bright out without only a few clouds in the sky. Right, now which way.. F'lix spied the tree line and veered off in an awkward two step at a time pace.
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Post by rii on Sept 7, 2009 21:59:22 GMT -5
"They're deceptive." Not the most flattering word, to most, but his opinion none the less. He couldn't make sense of the flowing movements, a casual flick of the wrist turned into an expression, or maybe even an attack. If F'ur had been difficult to read before, now he became near impossible. "Graceful, took time to hone that skill. It's alluring to watch in action." F'lix gave the other a pointed look, never once really talking of the fans, but leaving his words to be translated accordingly.
A reasonable question. What did he think F'ur had in mind for him. Death, yes, most certainly in the end. Other than that, the man gave him nothing but dislike, insults and threats–but these things he almost cherished. Knowing better, surely, but firming to the belief that hatred would always be more reliable than if he was liked. He had been shown nice before, but it had only been a ploy, a manipulation, a lie. Like was given and easily lost. But hatred, the hatred was loyally there, always would be. A dark view, and F'lix knew it, didn't enjoy it, but knew it all the same. There would never be anything more for him. He didn't pity himself, it was only the truth. He either accepted it, or wallowed in misery trying to deny it.
Out of reflex F'lix tensed, hand flying up to seize around F'ur's wrist. His eyes narrowed, but grip loosening as the man drew him close, teasing him. Tricky fans, tricky man. One brow rose, daring the other to finish, lips even parting slightly as invitation. Yet, even as he absently turned to lessen the blow against his chest–intimacy follow by pain–F'lix wore a satisfied smirk. He absently ran his tongue along his bottom lip, again shaking his head in response to the Fortian's actions. F'ur would never follow through. F'lix was not even sure if he was disappointed, or relieved of that fact. Torn, for certain. "I can't change what I've become."
His golden eyes followed F'ur, peering out the corners, head turning slightly to keep him in sight. "But I can learn." Lightly he clucked his tongue, the semi-amused smile still on his features. He playfully cocked his head to the side, shifting his gaze back toward where Inocenth laid. "Unfortunate for me, no one willing to teach." Not to this feral feline. They would have to endure both claws and teeth of retaliation.
"Mm.. " The younger bluerider pondered over F'ur answer, measuring it for truth. It sounded fitting enough. "Then I guess someone nearly beat you to it. Wouldn't that have been a shame–" F'lix dropped low, sweeping his right leg back at F'ur's ankles.
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Post by rii on Sept 7, 2009 19:07:42 GMT -5
The fans were distracting. Their flare open, the coloration, F'lix couldn't keep his eyes from darting off to the sides each time F'ur flicked them open. The bizarre weapons were more eye-catching than the flash of steel, and because he couldn't keep his eyes firmly on the Fortian, that alone made F'lix slide back–light on his feet in case he learned first hand how the weapons were meant to be used in a pair of skilled hands. Only a matter of time, F'lix chided himself, just because he wasn't in pain yet meant very little. But how did they work? Blunt or edged F'lix understood. But, fan.. ?
"Hiding yo–" F'lix snapped his gaze out toward the ocean, the end of his tongue pressing into the sharp tip of his canine. Must keep better control on that thing. Another flick, F'lix eyes returned to F'ur, giving him a curious look over as the man appeared to fan himself–strangely like a person might use a regular fan, casually eyeing someone with a harmless flirt. And how fitting it seemed, F'lix mused with a faint shake of his head at the Fortian. Albeit, the look on the man's face was anything but. Yes, that usual smile was strangely absent. F'lix didn't know what to make of that..
"No," A bland response, paired with a faint narrow of his eyes. He didn't like the fans. Would never touch them if given a choice. "But watching how you use them, yes." Talking far too much, but slowly F'ur seemed to be advancing on him and F'lix had no means of escape. And–F'lix stopped backing up, actually leaning forward to F'ur for a moment; the growl dipping back into his tone. "You've been the one turning up unexpected, not me.
"And you've made your intentions toward me very clear. It sort of removes the worry over what ifs if you know what I mean. Just the how remains.." A sudden expression of seriousness wiped his face. In the next second his eyes were searching F'ur for an answer, again that faint accusing and suspicion rose. "It's just between us, right, you wouldn't get someone else involved, would you?" A odd question, but their.. interactions had been anything but normal, so maybe the question wasn't so strange.
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Post by rii on Sept 7, 2009 16:50:54 GMT -5
Yes, the world had it in for him. The chorus of wing beats and squawks sounded oddly, in a very twisted way, like the land's childish laughter, mocking him for his foolishness. F'lix didn't even take notice of the sound of fan hitting bird, no, he was too busy trying to earth meld into the sand. Sad to say, it was not working. The younger bluerider, upon hearing F'ur land on the boulder, could no longer deny the arrival of his ill-timed fate, and lowered his hands into his lap while slowly sitting upright.
His eyes studied F'ur's bloodied bare feet until the fan touched against his chin, raising his line of sight to meet with the narrowed gaze of the Fortian, a look the younger matched without hesitation. Vaguely F'lix pondered, feeling the fan firm against his jaw, would the odd weapon serve as a creative method to end someone's life? Perhaps. But now would probably be a bad time to inquire such a thing. F'lix laced his fingers together, idly rubbing right thumb against the side of his index finger. He lifted his chin away from the fan, stalling an answer as his eyes flicked to and fro from the scratches to feathers scattered over F'ur. It did make a rather comical image paired with the man's glare, and the corner of F'lix lips did twitch in a near smile–but he quickly erased the motion before it could inspire immediate punishment.
F'lix blew a quick puff of air at feather stuck at the end of the fan, watching it twirl aside. "You know what they say about curiosity." He shrugged lightly, an innocent creature to the whims of a human mind. F'lix slowly began to rise to his feet, ever cautious that his life expectancy shortened according to how close he stood to the Fortian. "I saw you running by, carrying those," A flickering glance down at the fans. "and I–" The younger bluerider attempted a retreating step back. "–followed you."
Switching stances, F'lix folded his arms and gave the Fortian a near accusing glare. Oh yes, he was a defiant one, scowling back at the face of death. "I wouldn't have to sneak if you didn't hide." He shifted his weight to his left foot, not exactly nervously, but on edge–and for a good reason. "I was interested in what you were doing. It's rather.. unique."
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Post by rii on Sept 7, 2009 15:16:42 GMT -5
And what was F'lix doing all the way out to the coast?
Scouting. Or, at least he had been–and in a different area–until he had seen the Fortian run by carrying a set of.. unusual items. He had only watched him go by, curious, but ignoring it for a least a short while. F'lix had taken to watching people lately. After his and M'ta's brush with an unknown assailant, F'lix had wanted to know everyone's habits–more particularly those that braved the jungle, and not just the safer thinned trees toward the Weyr, but deeper, further into the wild darkness. He would find out who had been responsible for that day, or at least spy someone who did not belong. An old set of habits he tried to suppress since coming to Selenitas, yet there he found himself. Watching. Learning. Set on gathering information by pure observation.
But that curiosity festered, and even though F'lix had sat hours in the same tree, he couldn't shake it. Eventually he dropped down and followed at a loping pace, noting the direction lead toward the ocean. F'lix didn't really think he'd find out what the man was up to–scolded himself for even indulging in the curiosity. Yet when he came upon the more open area of the beach, he froze. Constant cover gone. And, with a brief scan of the beach he realized not only had he indeed followed the right set of paths, he had a slim chance of getting closer; Inocenth's dark hide stuck out like a sore thumb against the pale sands. Sneaking up on dragons was bad. Sneaking up on dragons like Inocenth? Very, very bad. Without any proper cover, F'lix garb would do the same as the blue's hide. The dark brown pants with a loose black long sleeve shirt that F'lix wore did well to hide in shadows in the jungle, it would work quite the opposite in such an open, pastel landscape.
So.. he settled for watching from a distance. Why? Because watching F'ur was an excellent.. learning opportunity. Golden eyes followed the movements with rapt interest–but soon grew annoyed that he couldn't really see. A series of boulders closer to the other bluepair would serve as a better view. Mm, yes. Putting as much stealth as he could in the movements, F'lix angled the rocks between himself and the dark dragon and slowly, creeping along on all fours, foot and hands making little to no noise as he moved closer.
He must have a death wish. F'ur was going to kill him, if Inocenth didn't get to him first.
The boulders were still a decent distance away from the bluepair, but at least now F'lix could actually see the full extent of F'ur movements with the.. fans? F'lix absently set his chin on the gray rock before him and silently observed the rather.. exotic technique. Hm, the man was full of oddities. Yes.
As if out of habit to check his surroundings, golden eyes flicked aside, noting the bird's nest, complete with eggs, sitting in the crack of the adjacent boulder. On cue, mother bird returned, settling on the smooth stone and regarding F'lix with suspicion. F'lix slowly sneered, waiting for it–sure enough, as all animals seemed to react violently toward him, the bird started squalling and flapping her wings in a way meant to intimidate. Annoyed that she was drawing attention, F'lix swung his arm out at her, missing, of course. His second swipe caught her, a loud caw sounded, a puff of feathers, and she took to the air.
Oh shards..
F'lix, feeling his on-coming doom, sank behind the boulders with one hand up and palming over his scowl.
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Post by rii on Sept 7, 2009 11:32:32 GMT -5
It was F'lix mistake, really, for regarding M'ta as anything other than an enemy. By the time the bluerider realized this slight, along with M'ta's intention, the time to react had passed. He had not expected such an move, it didn't make sense to completely incapacitate a person on the same side. F'lix didn't utter a cry. The bile rose in the back of his throat and he slowly clenched his jaw against the pain. The world momentarily swayed around him, making F'lix side step to firm his stance. Calmly, while remaining doubled over, F'lix sheathed his dagger at his back. M'ta had already slipped away, and was.. oh, F'lix didn't give a blasting shard at the moment. He waited until the brownrider had dashed off into the underbrush before softly thumping to the ground then rolling over onto his back.
It had been quite some time since F'lix had felt such gut twisting pain. Back at Benden there had been plenty of individuals that delighted in causing others pain, to watch them squirm and cry. F'lix had made sure to either quickly cause and prevent pain, or not show a reaction to it. They usually lost interest in him. He wasn't immune, but he did have a high tolerance. Oh, but what M'ta had done.. hurt.
Slow breaths. F'lix stared distantly up at the canopy. Don't let them see the pain. They liked to see the pain. Swallow it down. Always get hurt. Quiet you. The soft teasing was enough for F'lix to push the rest of his discomfort away. He sat up, rising to his feet with a noticeable degree less than his usual feline grace. His mind jerked back to the scene and F'lix gave a half-hearted glance in M'ta's direction. No, best to avoid the brownrider at the moment, F'lix felt too much like returning the gesture.
Hm..
F'lix pivoted and walked in another direction to track down the knife thrown by the unknown assailant. He turned the foreign blade around in his hand, nothing really distinct about it, but F'lix tucked it away none the less. He then foraged around until he found the one of M'ta's he had thrown. Circling back to the original spot, he picked up the abandoned sheath, and only after that did he finally pad over to M'ta.. who still appeared to be having troubles with the lodged knife. While the brownrider struggled, F'lix silently shouldered a nearby trunk (well away from M'ta) and began estimations of possible height of the stranger according to where the knife stuck in the wood and the piece of sleeve it pierced.
The entire situation was very.. odd. And F'lix kicked his thoughts to mull over possible whys and whos instead of entertaining the idea of smashing M'ta's face into the trunk. Finally he sighed, a hand coming up to pinched the bridge of his nose. "See what he looked like..?"
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Post by rii on Sept 7, 2009 8:48:49 GMT -5
Blood. F'lix narrowed his eyes, annoyed that M'ta had allowed the attack to connect. And yes, he fully assumed the brownrider did it to make the fight seem genuine. A nick to the arm would have done just as well. It still irritated F'lix. He didn't want to weaken his ally (Albeit he was still suspicious of the other) before a real fight. And if their sparring fooled anyone, F'lix would laugh.
His first instinct to the kick–and it showed–was to point the edge of the blade at the oncoming foot to give him a nasty reward for the blow. Instead, at the last moment, F'lix altered the angle and his wrist so the kick brush just underside; dagger dragging lightly over boot. The little moments of hesitation, of changing one's reflexes, fueled his annoyance. Those were the type of things that got a man killed. It required too much of a fighter's mind, slowed reactions. And M'ta proved to be a quick one–F'lix never thought less of the other.
Again he stepped into the move instead of dodging. First with his left to catch against M'ta's outer forearm–stopping the blow before it could even get mid-swing. It stung, a dull sensation to his nerves and only noted in the back of his thoughts were the rest of pain recognition went. The rest of F'lix motions flowed without pause. His body came in around M'ta's side and back with a sweeping right step. His own left arm snaking down and around M'ta's stalled arm in a similar locking move he had done in their first exchange. His right, with the blade, came around in a wider than normal arc, sharp tip plunging directly for the junction of M'ta's throat and chest–if it didn't get blocked, well.. F'lix would be disappointed.
Mad more than anything else, but still, maybe just tiny bit sad.
He arched the shorter male back against him by stepping in with his right, using the side of his hip to press into M'ta's back. His lids lowered so it appeared as if he was glaring down at M'ta, but really he was peering at the surroundings through his lashes. F'lix jerked them in a one-sided struggle, changing the angle every so often to scout for onlookers. As he moved his grip became loose, and only from the outside it even look as if he was really even holding onto the brownrider any more.
He had his face close, nearly pressing into the back of M'ta's head to mask the sight of him talking–or rather, lowly growling at the younger. "I can't dance, and I don't do foreplay." His description of circling each other with blades and exchanging nicks and cuts. F'lix hoped it was becoming clear he couldn't fake it. A true fight would have ended already, they couldn't drag it on long before whoever had spurred the confrontation noticed. "You're pest find anyone yet?" Yes, F'lix had noticed the creature not screaming insults at him, threatening him to die, so assumingly it was being put to actual use. "Saboth can pick us up at the river."
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Post by rii on Sept 5, 2009 17:33:06 GMT -5
Once deciding not to kill M'ta, F'lix ability to fight the other diminished. He really meant what he said about not being the sparring type–that required pretending to want to kill someone. The bluerider either killed–and did it quickly, or maybe even set out to purposely maim–or he didn't; especially when it came to people. 'Accidentally' killing a flit could be over-looked, but a person? Not a chance. So it came as little surprise that F'lix didn't counter when the foot caught against ankles. He fell back, catching himself with a hand planted firmly against the ground–a position he quickly abandoned as M'ta's came at him. Both hands flew up to catch each of M'ta's forearms–control the weapons–and with the other's weight pressing down, F'lix roughly met the dirt with his back while emitting a short, low growl.
"M'ta st–umphh–" F'lix gritted his teeth against the sudden impact against his stomach that forced the air from his lungs to gush out in a strangled cough. And–what?–what? Golden eyes flickered with ire, jaw firming to hold back his tongue. The colorful curses that flew his mind very clear on his expression. M'ta knew? Snarl. Oh he and the brownrider would need to have a little talk later. For the meantime, F'lix kept hold of M'ta's arms, making a show of a struggle but his gaze had drifted, looking far away. Saboth, he had to make the blue stop.
Stop. An outraged bellow was the blue's response, but the blue did back away from his splintered path. Nearly there. Saboth argued, but felt the disapproval from his bonded's mind. A deep rumbling vibrated through his core before he jumped back then sprung into the air. Angrily he swept his wings to hover over the canopy. Find them. Kill them. Yet his mindmate wanted him to stop trying to help. Saboth didn't want to leave–why was His sending him away? ..Maybe he could squeeze in through the trees from above.. Then what? Be unable to fly back out? Rip a wing while trying to land? Just be ready to get someone in case this goes.. badly. I still don't know what is going on–he could be playing some game still. I don't want to stir up the Weyr over a prank. Stubborn is Mine. Never backs down. You'll get hurt, you always get hurt. Saboth skimmed in tight circles over the treetops, peering down to try and spot anyone besides the tangled pair.
The conversation was over in a few seconds, F'lix eyes focused back in on M'ta's face. Hm, so the other wanted to stall matters. Fine, but when the time came to deal with any outsiders, F'lix wanted to be on his feet. Hips and torso twisted sideways, forcing M'ta's knee to slide off–placing M'ta to the side of him instead of over. F'lix released his grip, flipped the rest of the way over and quickly slipped backwards to get away from the brownrider. A darkened blade appeared in his right hand, tucked close along the inside of his forearm, all before he rocked back, crouched low on his heels.. giving M'ta a brief second to rise.. before closing the distance again.
"You're mad–fever finally get to you?" F'lix hated dueling.
A blur of motion that came as a upward slash, angling from right hip to left shoulder–quickly changing motion, pulling his blade back across in a horizontal slash at M'ta's throat. All the while F'lix kept only his side facing M'ta, his empty left hand folded close to his chest, ready to respond in defense. Little knew that F'lix actually was left handed. He was ambidextrous enough to use both, but he often led attacks with his right, preferring to stack his strengths to guard himself..
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Post by rii on Sept 5, 2009 0:54:33 GMT -5
"I think you're over–"
The whistling of a blade – F'lix reflexively shifted sideways to present a smaller target–better to take a piercing wound to an arm then the chest. It passed, but instead of looking to where it flew, F'lix tried to peer in the direction it had come. Who–he didn't have time to wonder. M'ta had drawn blades and was already coming at him with that look in his eyes; prepared to kill. F'lix glare iced over. He knew he shouldn't have placed any sort of trust in the brownrider. Give people the slightest leeway and they always disappointed him.
So it was all some sort or ruse? Lure him away from the river, into an ambush in the trees where Saboth couldn't help? Pathetic.
As fights usually happen where blades were involved, F'lix didn't have time to draw his own before he was being attacked. He still reacted without a moment's hesitation. The bluerider stepped into the attack with his right foot, dropping the sheath he held in favor of both hands moving simultaneously to counter each of M'ta's attacks. He caught the left arm against his neck and shoulder (having stepped in past the blade) His own left arm snaked around the brownrider's to temporarily prevent the youth from bending the elbow by putting pressure against the joint, and also jarring it enough to not let the dagger slide back into his neck–the high collar of his riding leathers would only protect so much. The right shot down to catch M'ta's forearm just above the wrist, putting a bit of weight into the block and altering the course to open a gap to M'ta's body–enough for a slender one like F'lix to act upon. The instant his hands touched M'ta, F'lix brought his left knee forward toward the brownrider's face–the other's crouched position making it an easy aim.
Not waiting to see if the blow would incapacitate, F'lix brought that same left leg down to step wide to the side--left hand sliding back to seize around wrist near his neck and bring the other's arm along for the move. The right arm was released, hand snapping over to seize the left's elbow as F'lix ducked under the limb, twisting it behind M'ta's back then applying pressure. A move once used on him; that Fortian proved to be a rather interesting teacher–among other things.
But M'ta was not his only concern. Someone else had thrown the knife. Reaching with his right, F'lix took one of the blades from the brownriders open, extensive collection and he pulled back, silver point ready to drive down into M'ta's neck–he really should too. Practical to eliminate one threat before moving on to the next, but part of him whispered a hesitation, made him pause then change plans. Instead he threw the knife in the direction in which he judged a second attacker to be. Around them the sound of trees snapping filled the jungle, Saboth–eyes blood red against his blue hide–was attempting to dig his way through the thick foliage to reach them. His deep bellow alerted any of those nearby; the dragon a bit too furious to make the message into words.
The words M'ta had spoken shortly before attacking only now registered in F'lix head and he released the arm, but didn't back off–the brownrider would have the upper hand if they were at a distance. "M'ta, I didn't throw anything. I'm not—the disappearances—It's not me. Someone else is–" How do you explain in the middle of a fight that you were not an enemy?
[ ooc: let me know if it's too much ]
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Post by rii on Sept 4, 2009 22:22:05 GMT -5
"Seeing you prancing around like a nymph or such doesn't help me believe you aren't sick."
They came up to the outdoor kitchens and Rulven went straight for the bridge that would take them up to Main Hall, and then eventually to the infirmary. A few odd looks were shot his way, but Rulven didn't seem to notice. He kept up the same brisk pace as he listened to Dmitri's words. He didn't hesitate, even though the reasoning did make sense. He knew his choices, and he had already made one. "Either way, if you died, I would feel bad. So I have to either face you dying but I had tried to help, or you died and I had not tried to help."
Wait. Rulven's expression twisted with his own confusion. "And since you've survived this long, maybe you already have it and are not going to die either way. So if you already have it, it won't hurt to go to the infirmary.." At the top of the bridge, Rulven doubled to set Dmitri down–and was quick to lay a strong hand on the youth's shoulder, step around behind him and lay the other hand on opposite shoulder. Yes, he planned to march Dmitri the rest of the way.
"But sure.. I'll ask someone to go get one of the healers. But I gotta say.. odds are it will be Kalirre, so I ask you this: Do you want to make Kalirre come to you, or do you think it's a bit wiser to go to her?" He waited for a response, keeping a firm grip on the harper should he try to make a mad dash. That woman was.. spirited. Yes. The smith did want to annoy her any more than necessary–and he was sure he'd get a brow-beating for the inconvenience. A small sacrifice to sate his concern for the troublesome harper.
"I swear," His voice lowered into a dangerous tone. "–and you best trust me on this," Rulven bent his head low, speaking darkly to Dmitri's ear. "If you try to run, I will break your legs. Then you will have no choice but to go to the infirmary." He moved back, reverting to his original cheery self. "Soo, what do you think?"
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Post by rii on Sept 4, 2009 20:57:03 GMT -5
A light snort sounded at M'ta's words. The act didn't even things out, in his head–it was too.. nice. Such a strange sentiment, that, and F'lix mistrusted the gesture as if indeed the blade had been coated with poison. No good deed goes unpunished. F'lix absently tilted his head, turning it away in such a well-practiced fashion to hide the scars even further. Such a small, almost pointless gesture, yet it bothered the bluerider so. "Thanks." A single word spoken no higher than a whisper.
Later he would figure out what M'ta wanted.
F'lix brows drew together, creasing between his eyes as he gave M'ta a thoughtful look. When he tried to combine the two incidents together it created a rather unusual situation. "Someone hoping no one would take notice of a few extra disappearances if there was plague?" It seemed like a stretch. And even so, people did take notice of the odd vanishings. F'lix lightly shook his head. It would be a very poor way to cover tracks. He felt more worried about the disappearances than the disease that had run rampant through the Weyr. The plague would pass, but they had yet to find a single spot of blood of those unaccounted for.
The bluerider shook his head for a second time. He usually didn't mind when people made assumptions about why he defected from Benden, not like he was willing to discuss all the little reasons that had piled up over time. "More or less." It had been the last bit of convincing he needed to finally leave. His lips parted as if to say more, but instead they pressed back together into a thin line. No, he wouldn't elaborate any further. So his mind rolled, reluctantly, over to the topic of the blue salamandyr.
Brows rose, a faint nod of agreement. Yes, he knew very well the little pests could be nothing but pain. About to comment as such, the words fell away from his mind when he noticed the change in M'ta. It had been subtle yes, but plainly obvious from what the brownrider had been a second before. F'lix own stance loosened, fingers of his left hand absently brushing against the inside of thumb. Someone there? Golden eyes flicked to the corners, toward the river, before returning to M'ta to wait for a sign. Was the other playing some sort of game? F'lix touched Saboth's mind–the gray-blue in turn opened his eyes, not lifting his head from the tall grasses, but peering through the thin stalks toward the trees..
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Post by rii on Sept 4, 2009 14:21:47 GMT -5
The smith casually hummed to himself, ignoring the cries of protest and squirming. He felt the nails, but the attack only made him lightly chuckle. Girls usually had longer, oddly sharper nails.. and went for his face with harpy-like screeches. Dmitri was mild in comparison. Oh, but harpers had their tongues, and the faux-candidate put it to use–but Rulven only seemed to grin wider.
A calloused hand caught one of the kicking feet around the ankle before it could strike somewhere painful. The other foot planted kicks along the outside edge of his body, not doing any serious damage. Rulven didn't have a third hand to restrain it so those would be endured for the greater good. The smith gave a mocking snort at the harper's words. "No. I will not. And it was more like prancing than walking. I'm not going to chase you skipping over the stones."
The smith purposely re-adjusted the harper on his shoulder, giving the youth a bumpy, unpleasant ride the more he demanded to be put down. "And what if you are sick, and I didn't bring you to get checked out because you were so stubborn, hm? What if they could have helped you, but instead, you died." Rulven spoke the words openly, letting his genuine concern and potential guilt touch at his words. He would feel down-right awful if Dmitri died. Blame himself really for not taking him to the infirmary when he had the chance. Because in Rulven's mind, the healers had the ability to treat anything.
"We'll let the healers decide." Rulven didn't want to annoy the staff, but one of them would eventually indulge him and check out the harper–even though there were so few healers left healthy. Kalirre maybe? He didn't understand over half the things the woman said, but.. she'd understand, right? She'd at least make a decision whether or not Dmitri was sick, he hoped. If it turned out the harper was not ill, Rulven would simply let him go free and all of it would be over. It really was that simple in the smith's mind.
Thick-skulled? Rulven's grin returned. "I'm not putting you down." Nope. Not unless Dmitri found some way to flail and squirm free. Once the smith had something in his head, little to nothing could change his mind. "I don't doubt you are going to make my days here interesting." Really, what could Dmitri do besides maybe taunt him about trying to kiss boys? Rulven could take it with a grain of salt.. and a frown. "But I'm still taking you to see a healer."
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Post by rii on Sept 4, 2009 13:32:58 GMT -5
F'lix carefully balled the strips of leather into his fist–the pieces might have a future use. No, the bluerider didn't know what for, but he didn't like to waste. The cheap blade still was moderately functional as well, suited for the less than ideal tasks. As he tucked the strips into his pocket F'lix eyes rose to study M'ta's actions, curious to why the brownrider removed one of the daggers until – hm. Subtly the bluerider's body swayed away from the tossed item, his eyes regarding it as it were a small, rotting carcass.
He distrusted the gesture all together, and after a long, analyzing moment he set inquiring eyes on the other male. People always expected things in return, so what did the brownrider want? If not now, surely M'ta would expect a favor or something in the future. F'lix didn't like owing that kind of debt, but he had nothing on himself to give back and make things even. Very peculiar this Bitran. F'lix tucked his own worn blade into his belt before cautiously crouching low over heels to carefully pick up the new blade. He remained there, idly brushing the dirt off the leather as he silently eyed the shorter male. F'lix would be unable to accept such.. generosity. He didn't like what, in his eyes, it implied.
He rolled the question over in his head, as his hands did a similar action to the small sheath. "You think someone is directly responsible for it?" Truely, F'lix did not quite understand the question. An a hint of confusion touched his words. "The jungle breeds such diseases on it's own, and then we have people constantly streaming in from far off regions.. put that together in one place, sweating, festering together. Sooner or later a natural order of things is bound to be triggered." He never really gave thought that someone might be responsible. To him such sickness was a force of nature, culling out the surplus of creatures before their numbers grew too epidemic. The world had an unsympathetic way of regulating itself, but therein laid truth, an ugly thing. "But–" A single brow rose, as he continued in a lighter tone. "–if you are asking me if I think Benden has a hand in it, my answer is no.. or it would be. I don't know how much has changed with J'loin in charge. Enough time has passed for things to have changed there, for better or worse, I'm not sure."
A lofty shrug of a single shoulder before F'lix gracefully rose to his feet. Upon seeing the mandyr, F'lix lips twitched in a brief frown. It was frilling at him, and the bluerider didn't know how to translate the action. He anticipated it to start hissing and spitting half-wit words at him within a few seconds. What.. vermin. He gave a slow nod at the creature, not wanting to offend M'ta–people were so touchy about those pests. Silently he hoped it wouldn't talk, because a faint headache threatened to throb behind his eyes at the idea of having to listen to such idiocy. He lifted a brow at the name, "That stand for something in particular?"
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