Fan Dancing (F'lix)

[rii]

F'lix didn't exactly flinch at the tone directed at him, but his eyes did narrow and quickly snap aside to avoid the Fortian's gaze. Muscles tensed on their own accord, but he was tired and he didn't want to argue, didn't want to talk anymore. No one would really mind if F'ur left a Bendenite out on the beach, of this F'lix felt certain. Maybe waggled a scolding finger at the Fortian, but little more. For his part, F'lix wouldn't care if F'ur left him. He expected that kind of treatment. It just confused him more that F'ur didn't leave. F'lix wouldn't tattle on him. If the man wanted to be alone so badly, disgusted by the mere sight of him, then he should just go. F'lix, however, didn't mention these thoughts, merely replied in a dead-panned tone of sarcasm. "That might be uncomfortable."

Upon noticing F'ur's proximity, F'lix began to lean away to avoid touching the man, but his actions were too late, too slow and he found himself being lifted. Out of necessity for balance his arms wrapped back around F'ur, unintentionally smearing blood and sand on the other's shirt, over the shoulder and down the adjacent scapula. His right arm hooked around F'ur's neck, anchoring himself enough to lean away. F'lix did not like being carried–he was a proud creature, and a bit of himself was starting to stir in the back of his darkened mind. The younger seemed to swell, tensing, preparing to strike out–and then it all faded in one exhaled snort of disapproval. Fine. F'lix glared before pulling himself in close, wrapping arms more tightly in a rough hug as he set his chin on the top of F'ur's frame, pointedly placing his face in a spot where he didn't have to look at the other. He'd allow it, for now, just because he felt absolutely drained of energy.

Not forgiven. F'lix tightly shut his eyes, right fingers curling into a fist as his unstable mind rationalized this from F'ur's words. It made sense to the younger, to why he apologized. Obviously he had broken something metaphorical, stepped out of line, and F'lix had been.. molded to accept blame. Bad things happened because he brought it on himself. "For making you hit me," he muttered, thinking that sounded close enough to the reason. F'lix didn't fully know himself. It was true enough. The intention of the kick had been to make F'ur respond.. in a way F'lix better understood: Violence. "I didn't think you'd hit me that hard." the soft admittance followed, directed down at F'ur's shoulder. Meekly he added, "I'll dodge next time." Apparently F'ur expected him to not get hurt. How odd.

Frowning with his own confusion, although his own was not quite as troubling as F'urs, F'lix turned his head to lay the side of his face against the warmth. "You're wearing a shirt." Really, he already knew this, but it didn't really matter until that moment. F'ur was usually in a state of undress, afterall. Regardless, the other was.. comfortable. Especially with F'lix being exhausted, it was perfect enough that he let himself relax, letting out few pointless 'mhms' to make the other believe he was still awake. But within a couple minutes of the swaying motion accompanied with walking, the younger was out cold–as he should have been from the start.

Saboth was seething, in his own fashion, on the infirmary ledge. His body had gone rigid, alarmingly so that he appeared more like a statue than a living dragon. Was that bluepair playing some sort of cruel joke? What were they doing with his bonded? Were they really out by the ocean? Or did they expect Saboth to fly out there and find nothing? He didn't trust them. Not one bit. Why did His always get himself into such trouble? And what did Inocenth mean it wasn't safe to fly. Flying would be better! Anything where His was with him and not with them was better. But the fact remained that he couldn't detect where he bonded was, so he would have to wait. Stew with his distrust, but be patient and wait all the same.

And, knowing His would be angry with him for it but doing it anyway, Saboth told Ciceroth his version of the situation. Just in case, if something did happen to his bonded, the blue wanted someone to be responsible for it. Punished, even. He didn't know what game they all were playing, but he would much appreciate if it didn't involve His.

[ ooc: Not ending thread. He'll be normal next post, yay? >>; ]

[Requiem]

F'ur said nothing, merely adjusting his grip as F'lix moved. Realistically, it was a good ways back to the weyr, and he couldn't carry another man - any other man - that far without a rest. But that was only one more reason to start now rather than waiting until later. The jungles could be dangerous during the day, but at night... Getting Inocenth to fly them might be a better idea. It really might. Still, if something really was loose and rattling around in there, flying would only jar him more. F'ur did not want to be responsible for scrambling the brains of another Selenitas rider. On a personal level, yes, F'lix was Benden (which was, in the end, likely the sorce of the bluerider's confusion) but on a professional level, he was a comrade, and F'ur was very much too Fortian to wish any true harm on someone who he needed to trust to cover his back. Fort was not like Benden. Loyalty...was something cultivated in everyone. Even rebellious (yes, even wild) riders like F'ur.

The very idea of leaving anyone in F'lix's condition alone in the wilds was downright distasteful. Vile even. And part of him managed to be insulted by the implication that he would. Because he was not a terribly cruel person. Manipulative. Deceptive. Willing to humiliate and prank at other people's expense, if only for his own amusement. But he was who he was because the men you flew with should never have to worry about whether or not you'll have their back, whether or not you're capable of holding your own. And he was as deadly as he was because an enemy - even hated - is respected. Better to give them death in battle than turn them over. He really was just a simple soldier. Nothing more or less.

Losing control wasn't acceptable, particularly over something so small. But he wasn't going to argue with a half-delusional bluerider. That would hardly do any good. "Yes. I'm wearing a shirt," he agreed, puzzled at the comment. "You've gotten it dirty, too." Seeing as how it was already wet and covered with feathers, though, he didn't really care. As F'lix fell asleep, F'ur picked his way through the trees, moving as smoothly as he was able with his hands full. It was almost too familiar, this situation, the Fortian retreating into his head to brood. You could almost forget, really. You could almost forget.

And that was what bothered him most. He shouldn't be able to forget.

The dark blue uncoiled from his position, stretching. He could either shadow His to be sure he made it to the Weyr fine, or return himself. In the end, Inocenth trusted His enough that he didn't feel he needed to hover. The beach was of little interest when the dragon was alone, however, and the blue was a touch put off by the lack of response from Saboth. If something was brewing...he wanted to know.

F'ur had never really been vulnerable from outside enemies, after all. There was a reason Inocenth spent most of his time simply watching the dragons and people who made up Selenitas; it was the ones who were supposed to be closest to you, to be loyal to you, who possessed the most potential for destroying you. Strange for a dragon to think such things, but he didn't forget a grudge. And those at Fort? They'd betrayed them. Inocenth wasn't making the same mistake again.

[rii]

Darkness. So thick, pressing him down.. down.. Almost comforting, but it didn't fully embrace him like sleep. He was aware. The pain, yes, he could feel it–throbbing inside his head. Each sharp stab blossoming in the darkness in hues of scarlet. Dripping, flowing, bleeding.. hm, yes, he was bleeding. With a roll of his tongue he could taste the coppery substance inside his mouth. Pain, concentrate on the pain. Something familiar. His mind curled around the sensation. It was real, unlike the sinking void engulfing him. Concentrate. Control it. He allowed the pain to course through him, building with each beat of his heart. Sharp now, splitting his mind in half–

–F'lix let out a soft moan, a faint whine in response to the pain. He shifted, pulling himself more tightly against F'ur, turning his own face to press into the side of the Fortian's neck. Brows knitted together, waiting the pain to go away. But, as much as he wanted to drift back down into the darkness, a stubborn part of himself urged himself to wake. It nagged him to find the source of the pain. To sleep before treating a wound could mean death. Had to get up. He wasn't ready to surrender. Not to that.

The younger bluerider pressed his forehead more closely to the warmth of F'ur's neck and registered he could smell the man's musk.. it wasn't too bad, but it still.. smelled. A mixture of ocean, sweat and.. F'lix wasn't really sure, but his eyes did finally slit open. The world around him blurred in and out before focusing in on.. F'ur's jawline. The man was carrying him–heartrate doubled–why? The memory came at once, quickly and causing a fresh wave a pain to radiate from his left temple; a strong reminder of what had transpired. The Fortian had struck him. Surprising, yet.. not.

The next series of reactions were all instinctual. Expression became guarded, as usual when around F'ur, and F'lix's entire body steeled, coiled in anticipation of.. something. He didn't know–thrown? dropped? casual disposal of his once unconscious body? a snack to be left out for the felines? The glare hardened which each paranoid-driven suspicion. He jerked away from the other, head snapping up, hands lifting away so only his arms held onto the man, the fabric of shirts between them. He was not suppose to touch F'ur. Bad. Very bad. Eyes flickered with emotions then–with a soft, faintly growling sigh–the expression dropped and his gaze quickly fled to the nearby jungle. Although his body still remained rigid in the man's arms; waiting for the violent reaction that, without a doubt in his mind, would happen.

"One of these days," His voice was back to the soft, faintly growling tone of normalcy.. at least for him. "I'm going to find myself.. in a normal situation with you." Sarcasm? Yes, if one could detect it underneath the growl and glare, which currently directed themselves side-long at F'ur. "Mark my words." Ooh, scary.

His body tensed again, ready to be thrown on the ground. He wanted down, but hoping to be set down nicely was expecting far too much.

[Requiem]

As soon as he felt the Bendenite stirring...snuggling close and then stiffening...a small half-smile twitched at his lips. "Welcome back," he commented drolly. Nice to know F'lix was back to being utterly repulsed by him. That was normal. Perhaps it was because of this reaction that F'ur elected to continue carrying him, just to be difficult.

Besides, just because the mind seemed to be working more normally didn't mean that F'lix could manage the distance back to the Weyr on his own two feet.

He didn't look at the younger man in his arms. "Mark your words?" A small chuckle. "What, exactly, would be a normal meeting? You're some sort of strange masochistic freak with a death wish, and I'm a loner who masquerades as a people person who just wants to have fun. Yes. That's a perfectly normal combination right there." Strange for F'ur to be so blunt, but F'lix probably wouldn't remember anyway. And if he did he might just get the hint and poof. That would be nice.

This was when he glanced sidelong at F'lix, a brow raised mockingly. "Point and case? You want there to be a next time. Bet you've still got a nasty headache - you are still bleeding. Most sane people would turn tail and run as far away as they could get. But not you. You just talk about next time. Kitten, I really worry about you sometimes. Aside from being so fragile as to fall apart at the merest touch, you're drawn to people who are likely to make your life miserable as a moth to flame. Not very healthy."

The Fortian showed no sign of letting F'lix down, though. Maybe he was worried the kid's ankle would shatter or something. This drew even more amusement from F'ur. "Not all attention is good attention, you know." He vaulted up onto a log and began stepping lightly down it past some more congested vegetation. "In Fort, too much attention meant a trip down below to visit the nice people who like to ask questions. Why are you so insistent on putting yourself near someone who has every reason to hate you...and is capable of doing whatever he wants to you? That doesn't make much sense."

His knees absorbed the shock as he hopped back down from the log. "Or did you already break your head once before?"

[rii]

F'lix brow arched, eyes narrowed questioningly. Why had F'ur not tossed him to the ground? The Fortian must have a motive in mind. It would reveal itself, given time, and F'lix would be ready for it. But for now, he relaxed a bit to avoid a muscle cramp. Still on edge with intention of reacting in a self-preservation fashion. Of course, he noted to himself, the closer he got to F'ur, the more those survival instincts got thrown askew. And being carried by the Foritan certainly counted as too close; danger, danger. But, aside from the matter of pride, F'lix was vaguely aware that F'ur.. didn't like to be touched? At least not by him. Every time he had done it in the past, the man responded by.. putting him in a restraint, or lashing out in some way. So, it became an unspoken rule in F'lix's head. Do not touch.

The younger gave a humored snort, soft and a slight smile twisting on his lips for the briefest of moments. Naturally the man painted himself out to be some misunderstood rogue of sorts, charming but aloof–and F'lix got to be the twisted monstrosity. Masochist, yes, somewhat. But it wasn't about the pain. It revolved around control, of giving someone control and trusting them not to hurt you. F'lix didn't give that.. privilege.. to just anyone. Only one. Oh, he had likely chosen poorly (if the throbbing in his head was any sign), but in the end, he had made a choice. Rectifying it would not be an easy task.

The younger rolled his eyes, shaking his head at it all. "You've got it all figured out, have you. And oh, I don't know–" He carefully flicked aside a feather from F'ur's shoulder. "–probably something dreadfully boring. Beware." Did he prefer meeting F'ur under such strange conditions? No. But realistically, he doubted (very highly) that anything normal would ever transpire between them. What would they do, have a pleasant conversation over klah? The very idea of it made F'lix face twist with distaste. Depends on the conversation he supposed.

Headache, right, injured. F'lix brought up a hand up and touched the side of his bruising features, then to the wetness sliding down from inside his ear. He knew right away the extend of his injury and gave a dismissing sigh to it. The pain had at least receded a bit. "I'm not fragile." He shot a glare at the man's face before quickly looking away again. "What can be said? You are one of the more interesting things around here." He spoke in such a way it sounded as if he was quoting a certain someone..

When F'ur jumped, F'lix reacted by pulling himself closer–righting himself to help with balance instead of being a lump of dead weight. Both arms curled low around F'ur's neck, bringing his own face up next to the older man's. Too close. He could feel the heat off the other, and as his eyes moved from the jungle to F'ur.. he lost his train of thought. Golden eyes noticeably moved over the other's face, then upon realize where his thoughts nearly dipped, F'lix pointedly looked aside, glaring and tilting his own head to bring raven strands down to cloak the sides of his face, or rather, hide the faint pink tinge at his cheekbones. Being close to F'ur was bad. Very bad. Stupid bodily reactions. Need space.

He didn't hear a thing F'ur said until the last question. He latched onto it, speaking quietly. "Yes, twice actually." Maybe that was why he was so weird? Perhaps. F'lix didn't know, didn't care, just wanted his train of thought down a different set of tracks. "First when I was nine. I think? Guy was hasseling my mom. I stuck a roasting fork in his leg for it." He faint smirk quirked on his lips. "Least to say he didn't appreciate that." Babbling, yes, just keep talking. Surely that would get rid of the damn flushing. He wasn't embarrassed, he had no reason to be, really. Damn Fortian. Carrying him like such. If there had been teasing involved F'lix wouldn't have responded. Hn. "Second time, somewhere around fifteen turns.. someone wouldn't take no for an answer. I guess it just never healed properly. It's a fracture, splits in the ear canal, down the jaw.. nothing too bad.. won't be hearing out that side for a couple weeks..

"Can I be put down now?"

[Requiem]

"I'm not a good person to bore," F'ur commented wryly. No, that was when he started thinking up pranks and going hunting and finding fans to practice with. It was dreadfully dull at Selenitas after spending all his life moving from one fight to the next. More or less. One lover to the next. One corpse to the next. Strange, when you managed to outlive even the people who could slap you around a sparring circle. Of course...now there weren't too many of those. There had been, though. Quite a few. It went from trailing after the good ones like a pup, just glad to receive any attention from someone that gifted, to seeking out talent in younger ones. Cultivating them. Attempting in his own minor way to make them into someone who couldn't be taken from him. But he never quite succeeded, did he?

The brownrider...now he'd been close. Younger than F'ur, less experienced, but something of a genius. Then suddenly in a routine Threadfighting run...flamed. There was no reason for any Fort dragon to accidentally flame another of his wing. Simply no reason. Thus now he was at Selenitas. And maybe it just had a little to do with the fact that before it had always been Benden that stole from him. F'ur didn't take kindly to that sort of thing. Not kindly at all. He still wanted Fort to be stupid enough to attack directly...oh yes. Just throw some of that leadership his way. But then, they wouldn't, would they? Just the lower - the lesser - colors, using them for fodder, and he didn't know if he could just... Probably he could though. Self-preservation didn't tend to know friends.

F'ur sniffed pointedly at F'lix's statement that he wasn't fragile, but otherwise didn't comment. Likely because the next statement distracted him. That sounded vaguely familiar, didn't it? His brow knotted briefly before smoothing again. No matter. If he couldn't remember, it couldn't be that important. He didn't really notice F'lix's movement much, except it made it easier on him, but when his gaze again found F'lix it was a little hard not to notice the blush. F'ur kept walking, but his face took on a strange neutrality. Blushing. Really?

He almost laughed at himself, then. Of course. All the weird reactions to F'lix made sense now. F'ur normally had no trouble noticing when someone was interested, but he hadn't wanted to know that this one was. Which was why he kept on insisting on thinking of him as a Bendenite. It made sense now.

Then F'lix started babbling. That's all it could be called, really, babbling. Attempting to cover up all that embarrassment. The blush that wouldn't be covered by words. F'ur listened, a muscle in his jaw twitching slightly. He'd never liked Benden all that much because of things like that. Sometimes Fort saw it too, though much less frequently. Grunting in response to F'lix's request, he settled the younger man on his feet, an arm still looped around his chest and shoulders. For support, of course. "You've got it bad." He chuckled, the sound itself tainted with just a touch of disbelief. "Don't you? Silly little fool."

F'ur caught F'lix's chin, meeting the Bendenite's golden eyes as he leaned forward. He didn't pull the other back into him. Truly, his intentions were only to make sure F'lix didn't fall and split that fracture all the way open. "You have to be at least ten turns younger than me. Are you even twenty yet? I've lived all my adult life killing Bendenites...whose sole purpose, it seemed, was to kill the men I fought beside. You're from Benden. That doesn't really matter to me as far as flying on a wing is concerned, or having a normal conversation. Fort betrayed me too. But you've latched onto the wrong person if you think I can look past where you came from beyond that."

He meant it. He really did. Just as he meant to pull away then, since F'lix seemed steady enough. But apparently the part of his brain that was perfectly reasonable was only controlling his words, because F'lix's face was right there. And he found himself kissing the man, the kiss itself very nearly chaste. His arm slipped from the Bendenite and he turned aside, shoving his hands into his pockets before continuing on in the direction of Selenitas. His head bowed, concealing sight of his face, which wore a mild frown. Thoughtful.

[rii]

Really? It had been that easy? F'lix blinked a few times, feeling bewildered when he found himself standing upright on his own two feet. Not thrown, or dropped. All he had to do was ask? That alone surprised him enough that he didn't immediately distance himself from the Fortian. A mistake, he scolded himself, snapping to and narrowing golden eyes when the man again took his chin. How foolish of F'lix to think he would get off so easily–but what the shards was F'ur even talking about? Got what bad? The confusion showed, not quite in the eyes, but in the way the bluerider's brow furrowed with inner questioning.

"Older," He growled–reverting to hostility because he didn't understand the turn in conversation. He was.. twenty-two turns now? His birthday had been that month. Not much older, but he felt the stubborn need to answer. F'lix arched an eyebrow at the man, a single, rhetorical question clear: So? He didn't care about the age difference. It never even crossed his mind. Why did it matter? F'lix jaw tightened as he focused on F'ur's unprovoked set of chiding words.

Or.. they must have purpose. Had F'ur noticed the blush? Curses flew through F'lix head. No, no, and no! F'ur was getting the wrong idea. Yes, and no. Maybe. F'lix refused to dwell on it, because he knew the truth in the man's words. F'lix knew he had found himself drawn to the wrong person. Knew that F'ur would blindly shun him because of his Benden origins–the younger rider had stated this in their first meeting, had he not? About to restate that truth, F'lix paused, noticing F'ur drew even closer. F'lix should have turned away, pushed the other, but instead he stood his ground; firm belief that: No. F'ur wouldn't. He'd stop. He never followed through on his teasings. He wouldn't..

.. He did.

Not the first time F'ur had kissed him, no, but it was certainly different, since the older man was not delusional. Then to turn away, not even sparing a taunting remark or smile, could the man be anymore confusing? That simple brush of lips contridicted all the man's words. How was F'lix suppose to interpret that? Unpredictable. Misleading. Frustrating. F'lix loosely wrapped his arms around his slender waist, fingers brushing reassuringly against hilts as his expression once again became guarded. He turned and followed after F'ur. It would be excessively stupid of him to stubbornly lag behind just because he was irritated with the Fortian.

"I know there is nothing there." The words came out quiet, but firm. F'lix didn't need a reminder that the other looked down at him for being Benden. This he already knew. The younger glared as he carefully stalked, his pace just a tad slower and every few steps he paused, swaying slightly before he could recover his full balance then press forward. "I don't have any delusions about that. I don't expect you to like me, ever." Had to clear up that misunderstanding, right? "But I didn't follow you because of anything like that. I came to watch you.. to maybe learn something. You have all this skill and.. can you really blame me? Really? And yes, I know, you want nothing to do with me, but I still want to learn.. from you."

[Requiem]

F'ur laughed, the sound itself almost...cruel. Yeah. Nothing there. More like, he couldn't understand why there was anything there and what on Pern was wrong with him? One way or the other would have been fine. Complete repulsion was easy enough to deal with. He could quite nearly take someone to the furs with him while trying to keep down his bile. Admittedly, he couldn't follow through, but still. When things were that clear-cut, it was easy to act like he was interested, to manipulate and cajole. Interest in someone with no regard to their past, with nothing in the way, was very easy to. It was the fact that he was repulsed on some level and interested on another level and all that mess that made it so...impossible. F'lix was very undeniably his type. Lying to himself was pointless. But for some reason that didn't negate the Bendenite part. Neither did the Bendenite part take away the attraction. It was just wrong, and the idea of everything being this muddled all the time around the kid was...well, he didn't want it. Plain and simple. Things were out of his control -clearly - and that was not something he liked.

The Fortian glanced back at his young tail, eyes narrowed, the expression on his face not so dissimilar from when he'd discovered F'lix hiding behind the rocks. That the younger bluerider knew enough about him, had seen enough to determine that, was a testament to just how much control he'd lost in the situation. Even during the siege he'd managed to make it look more like luck than skill. People feared what they didn't understand, and the south could hardly understand men like F'ur. And what people feared? They were eventually led to destroy. This was why Benden had to fall eventually. It was only a matter of time.

"Don't blame you," F'ur responded gruffly, without actually answering the question. That request was impossible. Simply...impossible. He didn't teach. He humiliated - had humiliated - unruly weyrlings whose heads were growing to be too large. And...he taught the one - yes, one at a time - who he wanted to keep. Because if they were strong enough, he'd never have to see them flown Between. It was probably because that was how it started for him. He couldn't quite remember when he'd stopped becoming the student, when exactly the reversal had taken place, but it had. Fighting was very intimate for F'ur. He revelled in it. His style reflected it. No weapons. Fans, sometimes, but mostly skin on skin. It was personal for him. That was the way he offered his respect to those at Benden who crossed him, the warriors. No distance. None whatsoever until he took their lives. So maybe he was a little sick...but the truth was the truth. No sense in denying it.

Impossible. Teaching F'lix was simply...impossible. And yet his mouth moved ahead of thought, sharp and cold and not much like the F'ur that most saw. It was the F'ur who glanced at an enemy and read weaknesses, read angles, read injuries, read speed and which side was favored and how much power was behind their build. "You need distance, is what you need. A knife is good, but it will only get you so far. Many men will still have reach on you. You're small. Easily broken." Yes. Easily broken. No matter what the Bendenite said. All too easily. But then, most people actually were. Human bodies were weak. Oh so weak.

F'ur darted forward, stepping up on a log, using it as a springboard to half run up the trunk of a nearby tree, grabbing a branch and swinging himself up to another slightly higher that came loose under his weight, snapping sharply. He hit the ground in a tight roll, sweeping to his feet, the branch swinging forward against another tree and breaking cleanly, the end with the leaves falling away. Almost perfectly straight, it was, and about six feet long. Stepping back into a more clear space, he twirled the branch languidly, feeling it out, before it whirred swift in a circular motion that left almost no room for penetration. Certainly not by an arm or a leg. Catching it with a slap against his left hand, he tossed the branch at F'lix.

"Then maybe you'll stop getting knocked upside the head. I was told that some have mastered the weapon...in such a way...that you can throw a bucket of water at them and it will deflect every drop. I'm not that good though." He smiled briefly. "That's my suggestion, if you want to learn. Take it or leave it." Wasn't F'ur's strongsuit. Not at all. But he knew enough to teach someone else enough to use it with enough skill to be deadly. They'd tried to get him to go that route but, in the end, he'd rejected it. F'ur didn't like distance in a fight.

(Perhaps that was what made it so appealing. He wouldn't have to get close to F'lix.)

[rii]

The laughter made F'lix's mind tense, thicken that intangible metal barrier in preparation of being turned down. It was hard not to be paranoid, to assume the worst and expect F'ur to behave the part of an arrogant superior; retort with spits on how he didn't teach weaklings. F'lix couldn't find it in himself to be hopeful. If he anticipated the worst, then he wouldn't be disappointed when it happened. Which explained a bit why F'lix found himself surprised when people were even relatively kind toward him. Surprised, then instantly suspicious.

All that aside, F'lix had meant what he said. Even if the man refused to humor F'lix, the younger would still find a way to learn from him. Stubborn as he was. F'lix had yet to see anyone match what he saw in the Fortian; not so much the combative skill he demonstrated, but other, more subtle signs. No, he didn't know the extent of F'ur's skill, but.. in the end it didn't matter. F'lix already accepted and acknowledged that F'ur's skill far surpassed his own, that should be enough.

The.. critic.. was kept in the back of his mind. Watching F'ur suddenly dart up a tree currently drew more attention. A questioning eyebrow rose, but F'lix said nothing, merely observed the interesting display. The younger came to a halt, swaying until his weight rested over one foot, arms still low over his torso. He visible cringed at the sound of the branch cracking against the tree. A spear of pain shot through his head, leaving a slight frown to linger on his features. And what—

F'lix's arm snapped out, catching the faux-staff with his left hand. Automatically he shifted the grip more toward the middle to balance out the ends.. then switched it over to his right hand. His eyes fell to the long branch, scrutinizing every inch through a narrowed gaze. Was F'ur serious? Or was he trying to purposely be unappealing in hopes that F'lix would drop the subject? Slowly, obviously not use to such an item, F'lix twirled it once in a careful mimicry of F'ur's demonstration. It felt so awkward in his hands. F'lix preferred edged, to speak his moves with the spill of blood. This thing was.. blunt.. and.. completely different. Again he moved it, making a slight adjustment to make the motion more smooth. Then, feeling silly, he held it horizontal in both hands in front of himself.

Golden glare raised, blood still running down the side of his neck, ever defiant. "I'll learn."

F'lix would not back down. Nor would he be disrespectful and argue over the possible opportunity. Part of him, the part that refused to trust anyone, wondered if F'ur was playing a game. Maybe, maybe not. But, if these were F'ur's conditions, the younger would accept. A trainee did not get to pick and chose what he learned. Of course, as a slight wobble altered his stance, F'lix doubted he could learn anything right at the moment. If F'ur pressed, F'lix would do his best, but really he just wanted to stumbled back to his weyr and curl up under the covers.

Another stab of pain and something buzzed instead of his head. F'lix features betrayed the hidden inner cringing. But he could.. feel Saboth. Not hear him, but a fuzzy link re-formed between him and his worried blue. It would grow stronger as the day passed, but for now, just having Saboth back with him gave him a slight comfort–although, also made a constant pain throb behind his eyes. F'lix again looked down at the branch, unsure of what to do with it, then back up to F'ur. Was it a joke..?

Back at the Infirmary, Saboth had quickly taken to the air and was winging with haste toward the jungle..

[Requiem]

F'ur closed the distance between them in four steps, extracting the branch from the kid's hands deftly. He cast it to one side in a rustle of leaves. Most likely he'd come to his senses later and simply put F'lix off, so the thing was hardly needed, and if he did decide to follow through it would be easy enough to make another...better...one. If he chose.

He stepped into F'lix, dipping slightly to thread his arm beneath the Bendenite's and around his back, anchoring at the waist. F'ur settled the kid's arm over his shoulders. "Why did you ask to be let down? Honestly. Tch." More trouble than he was worth. Way more trouble. F'ur had to see him all right, if only because he was, in the end, responsible for the state the other was in, but it really was rather irritating. Of course, it was normal, too. Men had a habit of being unreasonably stubborn when it came to their own health. That or pathetic and whimpering at every hangnail or headache.

Couldn't trust the other man to continue to walk without collapsing, now could he? The wiry Fortian found no issue with this posture. It was familiar, normal. He'd helped women, bronzeriders, any number of people in such a way. Normal. Glancing at F'lix, he knew the little git would be tensing on him again. Tensing and flushing all the time, glaring then that look that was painfully young. It seriously didn't help F'ur that F'lix couldn't seem to react the same way twice. He growled in his throat again. "If you don't want a stick, don't use it. I really don't care what you learn..." The style had to be something he was comfortable with.

And...talking about that kept him from thinking other things. Fighting was a safe enough topic. Blood on him. He'd have to wash his clothes. Hrm. "Just show up if you want. When you want. Doubtless you'll have no trouble finding me," he added wryly. Sneaky little spy that F'lix was. Here, Ino? Saboth comes. It would probably be best not to be there when he arrives. No shit. The rider urged the younger man out into the glade, stepping out into the sunlight. He brought F'lix to a small outcropping of rocks, then stepped back, hands returning to his pockets.

"Nuisance," the man commented finally, through narrowed eyes. His cue Saboth's approach, he turned and made for the edge of the trees. Not his problem anymore. Not his sharding problem.