Smeared black ink [F'ur]

[rii]

I don't get it. The blue dragon observed his peculiar rider with one whirling, scrutinizing eye. In the middle of a small clearing, surrounding a narrow stream, sat rider on an upraised rock, then dragon–laying flat in the water and trying to not be so painfully obvious. Not an easy task, being too big for the stream, the water barely covered half of his body and his bulk blocked the flow, causing a minor flood in the grasses around him.

"I don't either," F'lix chuckled lightly, but his golden eyes remained downcast on his current task. Freshly sharped dagger in hand, he traced–with his eyes first–a pattern over the his bared right foot. Pant legs were rolled up to the knees, the left leg dangling over the rock and into the water, the right bent upright and positioned into the light. His torso was slightly curved around his right leg, not in his usual leathers, just the nearly skin-tight dark colored shirt he wore underneath them. The hot weather was really starting to aggravate him. Especially since being moved off of his nightly shift. Too many riders had passed with the plague, and so F'lix had been reassigned to a more 'useful' position. Thus being awake during the day.. much to his dislike. Too hot. At least cutting his hair had helped with some of that problem.

Then why do it? "Do I need a good reason?" Yes. I don't know why you are trying to color yourself. "I'm not trying to be appealing. I just want to try it.." Then can't you use something more.. colorful? "Not like anyone is going to see it. Why are you so worked up over it?"

Saboth huffed, but left his rider in peace, opting to raised his head high and keep a watch on their surroundings. It wasn't the most wide of clearings, and he really wished his bonded would stop going into the jungle. Felines aside, the unknown attacker had never been discovered, and about a sevenday ago his bonded had suffered an injury to the head–briefly damaging their connection. To say the least, Saboth let his more protective side show through; refusing to let F'lix go too far out of his sight. He wanted His to stay in the Weyr, but being crowded in with all the others made His irritable and broody. He'd settle for letting His do the odd things he does, as long as it kept his mind occupied.

F'lix gave the blue a smile before concentrating back on his foot. The dagger was dipped into a shallow dish of black ink thickened with tree sap. Feather-light he drew the sharp edge over the pale skin, moving with the invisible pattern he saw in his mind's eyes. Black ink mixing with red when a small amount of blood rose from the carefully shallow cuts. The design was nothing specific, at least for now; just a test to see if the ink would remain. F'lix re-dipped the tip and went back to work, mind completely on his movements. He barely noticed Saboth had risen to skulk down the stream to try and find a deeper spot–the blue didn't want to watch. F'lix could draw, had an eye for it really, but it was such a useless talent, in his opinion. It didn't show too much in the thin swirls and curls befit the movements of the water or air–but rather in the skilled way he held his 'brush' and let the movements translate through wrist and fingers. Not a single mistake. Of course, it helped that he couldn't feel the pain that should have accompanied the actions.

"See," He paused, a teasing note to his voice–talking to Saboth without realizing the blue was not nearby. Golden eyes were busy criticizing the dark red-black lines. "You make it sound worse than it is.."

[Requiem]

"He hasn't been around," F'ur commented quietly, flicking at one of the pebbles on his weyrledge, the which clattered noisily down the canyon walls. No. Hardly a reason to ask which one His meant. Sighing, the older man moved to stand, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking out into the trees moodily. He did hit his head pretty hard. Probably didn't really want to be around you at all. Wouldn't blame him. Inocenth turned his head to regard F'urHis slyly. Thought you wanted to be left alone?

"I do."

The man disappeared into his weyr, briskly finding a loose-fitting white shirt and settling a vest of stiff, dark leather over it. Wouldn't do much against claws directly, but glancing blows would mostly be deflected. Slipping a hunting knife into his boot, he strapped a long dirk to his thigh and made sure the belt dagger was still secure.

We're going hunting? A touch of dark excitement behind the question. Inocenth liked the game, especially when His lured them out into the open for the blue to pick off... "I'm bored," the man stated, answer and explanation. "Might find someone interesting out there, anyway. People don't just disappear into thin air." That sort of hunting. F'ur laughed. "Hey, just keeping an eye open. You'll get to sink your claws into some feline. No worries."

The pair took to the skies, wending circuitously toward a point upstream with Inocenth noticed him. Saboth. Banking, he moved low along the horizon using the trees for cover. "What...?" I get tired of your brooding. Just go. Inocenth didn't wait, wending through the trees to approach Saboth from upstream. Distraction, anyone?

F'ur mentally shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and strolling through the trees. It was peaceful here, anyway. He caught sight of the hunched form by the river, frowning slightly. Going barefoot was common for him when out in the forest...left less of a trail and minimized the noise. The bluerider approached the younger man silently, careful not to cast a shadow and peering over at what the Bendenite was doing. "Worse? What is it?" he asked curiously, genuinely interested and not guarding his expression for once. F'ur reached down...apparently unconcerned in the presence of the dagger...and traced a finger just outside one of the bloodied, inked lines.

"Most people use paper." He glanced at F'lix's face. "Almost didn't recognize you with all that hair out of your face." A pause. "Short suits you better."

[rii]

Slender head plunged under the water to nose aside a large rock. If the stream wasn't deep enough, then Saboth would fix that problem. With claws he dug into the soft, muddy soil–ripping it up and shoving it onto the grassy bank. Working on creating his own little eddy kept Saboth preoccupied well enough from trying to make sense of his rider. He didn't like what F'lix was doing. Not one bit. Although he couldn't remember exactly why he disliked it. He just did.

A noise from upstream drew Saboth's attention. The blue went very still, standing half-way on the shore. His wings had arched, spread just enough that with one quick downward sweep he could leap into the air or thrust himself backwards to avoid any pouncing nuisances. He stared long and hard into the trees, the shadows beyond making it difficult to see anything, but Saboth focused more on trying to detect movement. He waited patiently for a sign—head suddenly snapped around in response to his bonded's alarm—

Still being partially deaf in the left ear did not help matters. Absolutely unaware of F'ur's approach, F'lix reached down toward the ink dish with intentions of adding another curving line. Hearing the voice made him startle–badly. Hand and dagger came down into the black ink, the little dish being knocked away, flinging its contents as it spun aside. Left foot kicked out through the water, sending a crescent spray across the stream. Whether F'lix was more surprised at someone being there, or the fact he knew to who the voice belonged, was still up for debate (truthfully, recognizing the voice did keep the dagger from arching around in defense). Heart knocked frantically against his ribs, adrenaline flooded his system–clearly caught completely off guard.

Then F'ur was there, beside him and touching his foot. All F'lix seemed able to do was stare at the man's face. Lips slightly parted with intentions of speaking but lacking the words. Golden eyes narrowed, not into a glare, but to regard F'ur with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. The comment toward his hair made F'lix blink and absently raise hand–still holding the dagger–to brush fingertips through the short black strands. Leaving a thin trail of ink across his cheekbone in the process. He didn't know how to decipher the words–compliment or insult; probably neither. He'd be silly to take it in a positive light (and really quite incapable of such). F'lix knew he didn't cut his hair to look better; sort of a way, by exposing the scars, to make himself less appealing, less approachable. Maybe that did make it more suitable for him?

The rest of F'ur's words finally registered as F'lix adrenaline rush began to wane. The moment for reactions had passed and the time for thoughts now settled in. It took a stretch of speechlessness before F'lix made.. very little sense of the situation. What is it? F'lix finally pried his gaze off F'ur's face and examined his own foot. What was the design? Or what was it he was doing? He opted to try and answer both.

"It's just an outline of what could be," He answered lightlly, almost cautiously. He faintly shrugged, because even he didn't know what it would become in the end. Nothing specific, something more general. Black and red lines swirled, some starting between his toes, like rivets of water flowing up from his step, curling around his ankle–at least until he had stopped 'drawing'. The dagger was set aside, showing that the younger bluerider had grown more.. at ease.. around F'ur. Good or bad? A little bit of both. F'lix twisted about to reach down and retrieve a clean strip of cloth. He began to wipe away the blood and ink; couldn't wash the cuts yet. If anything, it kept his mind and hands occupied.

"Saw a man once with brands on his arm. Never did ask him what they were called.. " Because he had been dead at the time, and in Bitra–two things that should have made the body art less attractive. But he found them interesting all the same. "Theory is.. that as long as I don't cut too deep, at least not the point of scarring, when it heals, the design will remain."

F'lix tilted his head, letting golden eyes shift side-long to examine F'ur's profile. A dozen questions flitted through his mind, none of them traveling past his lips. F'lix didn't know how to respond to the man's presence–at least without irritating the older man. Except.. the younger seemed to do that without trying. Their explosive, handful of interactions a good testimony that any calm that hung in the are was likely to be short-lived. "Out hunting?" He inquired softly, just his nature to be quiet–not meek. F'lix meant to tease the other about actually living in the jungle and not the Weyr, but an outrage spillover from Saboth distracted his thoughts–drawing his gaze upstream.

[Requiem]

Startled him, had he? On some level, this pleased F'ur, that he could still come upon people unawares. Or maybe he just liked to see people when the adrenaline was rushing through their veins. Part of his daredevil personality? Perhaps. It would be a flat-out lie to claim that F'ur wasn't something of an adrenaline junky. He found that state of hyperactivity addicting...and just as addictive to produce it in others. His flirtatious nature could probably be blamed on that truth. Not that he intended to flirt with this one. Certainly not anymore. There were dangers in that he'd rather not explore.

The line of ink caused F'ur to smirk slightly, though he hadn't really been watching the younger man's expression closely enough to see all the play of thoughts across it. Nor would he have had any idea how to go about reading it if he had. Glancing at the inked and bloodied dagger, the man stared at it in bemusement. Hrm. "So you're carving on yourself, more or less? I knew some guys who did that...only they used hot iron shaped into something by an artisan." He settled his foot beside F'lix on the rock and leaned forward over his knee. still tracing the design idly. "I imagine this is less painful. And risky. Blister up and you don't even get a design for your troubles."

Then, perhaps noticing what he was doing, he drew his arm back up, resting it over his knee and glancing at the water beyond. "Not that I really understood why then either. It's easy enough to get all the scars you could ever want without doing it to yourself." F'ur was pretty indifferent about his own. They marked turns upon turns of survival...and mistakes. He didn't see them really as an addition or a subtraction from his appearance, so much as part of the whole. It had been a long time since there had been so few that he could actually sit there and count them in a moment of idleness.

Inocenth slipped through the water quietly, not attempting to sneak up on the other blue so much as to keep the fact of where he'd emerged from secret. Saboth's he trusted, to a point, but not so much the dragon himself. Anyway, His could handle Saboth's if it came to that. Much as Ino adored F'urHis, he wasn't the match for an angry dragon. The midnight blue swam sinuously, going with the current. He turned his body to stall his forward progress upon catching sight of Saboth, however.

You'll cause the river to flood like that, the blue remarked dryly. His head dipped, the natural slyness of his features exaggerated in the half-crouched position. Inocenth had effectively put himself between Saboth and Theirs...the larger of the blues not so capable of making his way through the jungles as the much smaller Inocenth was. Sure, it could cause alarm in Saboth and Saboth's, but Inocenth wouldn't mind a fight. He hadn't been involved in a decent battle in...ages. Of course, it would be better if such a thing didn't take place. F'urHis could be a true bitch when annoyed.

Only dimly aware that Inocenth was near Saboth, F'ur wasn't distracted like F'lix was. He answered the younger rider, oblivious. "Yeah. We were thinking felines. Inocenth won't deign to help with anything else, really - too easy he says." The man stole another glance at F'lix's leg. "Also thought I might stumble upon...something...anything. The disappearances are unsettling." Just because nothing ever seemed to be left. People would vanish...one moment their dragons would be perfectly peaceful, then suddenly the death keel and no body. Never any body.

[rii]

His eyes fell back down to his foot, trying not to pay much mind to the touch tracing the lines, but following the movements all the same. Thoughts were strictly kept to the topic, not being allowed to stray too far. It was more than a bit difficult to keep his thoughts skimming the surface and not allow them to slip and plunge deeper. Despite the effort, it didn't stop a thread of confusion from stitching itself somewhere inside of his chest.

"I find this to be more colorful, more of an art than searing flesh.." His nose wrinkled in distaste. Burns tended to damage nerves, causing the loss of feeling, not to mention it smelled horrid. F'lix still wanted to be able to feel–obviously his pain receptors were askew but he still felt things, an important sense–despite that he currently attempted to ignore afore mention sensation. "And scars tell a different story, and are earned by different means. It's just.. different." Golden eyes glanced at F'ur's chest. Even though the other wore a shirt, he remembered the near illegible history written over the man's body. "The blood is misleading," He half-mumbled reaching down to pull the skin taunt and display that the design he had drawn barely nicked the surface. More of a scratch than anything else. No potential to scar, the inking acted more like a permanent paint. F'lix gave a gallant shrug, leaning back on palms while stretching out his leg to see the foot from a distance. "I like it, I don't think I need a better reason than that."

Secretly, a morbid part of him liked see the etching of darkened blood. Art indeed.

F'lix, only then noticing F'ur's upraised foot, peered down at the bared flesh next to his side. His eyes began to track a hidden design over the man's skin, eyebrows rose in thoughtfulness. Slowly a smile began to show and F'lix shifted his gaze upward, giving the Fortian a playful look. A jesting offer, one he didn't put much seriousness behind, but there all the same.

"Mm," The bluerider hummed thoughtfully at F'ur's words. Head tilted away, chin inclining a bit while golden eyes continued to regard the Fortian with veiled interest. "Last time I started having a conversation with someone about the plague and disappearances, a.. man showed up. We didn't see him, only the salamandyr got a glimpse, but.. I'm more than sure he was not of this Weyr. So maybe if you talk about it enough, it will attract attention." Part of him was serious, the other half was merely teasing. F'lix merely felt.. patient on the matter. Others were searching and scrounging for any clue. They had found nothing, why would it be different for anyone else? "Probably find something when you don't expect to."

—

Saboth wings twitched with aggitation, a low rumble sounding deep within his chest as he gazed at Inocenth. The Benden dragon was not well versed in the ways of combat. Had been in very few fights in fact. His bonded was another story, but as for himself, he really didn't know how to fight. Maybe act intimidating, but he made a point of trying to avoid conflict! His aggression was of the passive sort. There was little he could do now without making a chaotic scene–and he may not like it, but his bonded seem safe and content enough..

Turning to fully face the dark blue, Saboth weaved his head left and right before.. a trace of green whirled in his eyes and his tail whipped forward. Not nearly close enough to strike Inocenth, but that was not his intention. He struck a skimming blow to the surface of the stream and sent a well aimed splash at the dragon's head.

Ha. Take that.

[Requiem]

Inocenth stretched his wings, the calm of his eyes betraying nothing. Then again, they likely wouldn't. He wasn't nearly as expressive as most of his brethren; it came with being an utterly cold creature. Standing straight, the light patch of blue encircling one eye made it pop just a little more, and perhaps this was why he had gotten into the habit of presenting that side more than the other. It tended to be more distracting.

Then Saboth made his nearly fatal mistake. The half-crouched position of Inocenth's had been adopted for one purpose, and one only...he took to wing almost at the same instant that the water hit him. instinctively putting the power of the jump into his front legs, which resulted in the rear swinging forwards, stained claws slashing downwards. You don't play with a fighting dragon without making it perfectly clear that it's a game. That slash was purely defensive, as Inocenth naturally expected an attempt to blind him to be followed with an attack. When his claws didn't tear apart skin and muscle, he banked tightly.

Not his fault the other was too green to know to press his advantage when he had it. What are you doing? That familiar chilly edge caused him to tuck his legs in, streaking past Saboth harmlessly. Inocenth allowed himself a soft hiss, twisting as he landed behind Saboth and spraying water in all directions. Your pet's blue thinks he can take me. It's Selenitas. Dragons don't attack each other here...and they didn't at Fort either. Cool it. Inocenth didn't particularly remember Fort. Still, he settled for eyeing the other blue narrowly.

---

F'ur suppressed the sigh. They really didn't belong here...not at all. Inocenth may have been more obvious about it, but F'ur was just as much on edge, ready for a fight that simply wasn't coming. Selenitas was too calm. What did fighters do when there was nothing to fight? They trained, play fought, hunted...and more or less stewed. He almost wished one of the northern weyrs would attempt another full-on attack, just to get a chance to stretch his muscles. Glancing at F'lix, he found the odd practice intriguing enough, if still something of a mystery to him.

Shrugging mildly at the younger man's words, his left hand fiddled with the blade at his thigh. "I get bored easily," he responded, as if that was answer enough. Truly, it was. "Not nearly old enough to want things to start slowing down." Not that the kitten really had any clue as to what getting older meant. This brought a wry smile to the man's lips. Still, he couldn't be oblivious to how sleepy Selenitas seemed by comparison.

Back to this odd hobby of F'lix's. It was different enough to be of some interest to the Fortian. "So basically...it's like drawing on yourself, only permanent?" There might actually be something to be said for something that would allow you to choose how your body was marked. The offer hadn't slipped his attention, either, the man glancing down at his own narrow foot. He wiggled his toes, eyes drifting back to the Bendenite. There was risk-taking...and then there was pure stupidity. His reasonable side stated that someone who should be an enemy near him with a knife when there was no possible way his admittedly fast reaction time could stop whatever the other chose to do...F'ur had seen men hamstrung before. Not pretty.

It was official. He was much too bored.

The Fortian trained his eyes back on the river. "I've no problem with it. Only request is that you refrain from imitating the images I drew on your face. Just one of many reasons drinking isn't a good idea," he commented lightly. Better if F'lix didn't realize that it actually was something of a big deal, the older man putting himself into a situation where he wasn't in control. He still claimed boredom, though. Any other suggestions would have been laughed at.

[rii]

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.

[Requiem]

And how old are you? Inocenth responded, the words lacking any emotion or real context to determine if the question was a genuine one or merely mocking. The small creature settled into the river, letting the water rush past his legs for a moment as he watched the other blue closely. His was right, of course. It hadn't been an attack. This didn't necessarily please Ino, however, particularly since His didn't seem all that interested in pursuing the hunting trip they'd set out upon. Bothersome creatures, this other blue pair.

Sliding past Saboth, he deliberately passed close enough to allow the other dragon to take exception to him, if only to relieve the unbearable boredom. At least at the Weyr there were plenty of people and creatures to watch and mock, an amusement that Inocenth sometimes grew weary of...but it was one he kept returning to, just the same. Nothing truly interesting around here.

Coming up on the bank, the Fort-bred blue curled up tightly along the edge of the trees, not so close as to be an actual threat while still close enough should anything strange happen. He wasn't very pleased with His. Letting Saboth's near him with sharp objects...no, not very pleased. F'urHis ignored the disapproval radiating off the blue, however, and Inocenth drew himself even tighter.

---

"True that," F'ur responded, his grin downright cold, though decidedly amused just the same. F'lix remembered that comment, did he? He blinked at the man's next comment, though. Was he really so...well, yes, he supposed that was true enough. He did spend a good deal of time outside the Weyr, between the morning routine of a run to the beach, playing for awhile by himself (truly boring, but how many people could really give him a challenge anyway?) then a return to the Weyr, drilling, what other duties he might have for that day, and usually out again later to entertain himself in one way or another. Hm. The older bluerider shrugged mildly.

It was probably fortunate F'ur wasn't paying attention to F'lix's expression, though he'd deliberately looked away for that purpose. The Fortian could be whimsical on occasion, but he knew it would take very little to change his mind in this case. It wasn't the most reasonable thing for a man to do, after all. Not by a long shot. He chuckled, though, picturing the strange doodles made by a drunken hand. "Mmm. I can imagine. Though I still like the idea of whiskers." Deliberately picquing F'lix's curiosity, or merely teasing him? Hard to say.

He made toward the river with a shrug, rolling up his pant leg nearly to his knee as he let the water wash over his foot. Cool. Should have cleared his head, you would think, and impressed upon him the foolishness of what he was doing. Should have. Instead, he just found himself enjoying the coolness. He lifted his foot and rubbed at the sole with one billowing sleeve, making sure that the caked dirt had been cleared away, before vaulting back in the direction of F'lix's boulder, his landing light.

He crossed his left leg under him and cocked his head to one side. "You're the artist." A trace of amusement behind his voice. "How do you want me?"

[rii]

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.

[Requiem]

Having a little hissy, was he? Inocenth was more than just a little amused at that, earning him a long-suffering look from His. The blue flicked his tail rebelliously. As soon as Saboth took to the air, however, Ino stretched out cattishly, flexing his claws and arching his back. Much better, with no ridiculous water-splashing dragons to bother him. Though it would have been more amusing to watch Saboth interact with another dragon, yes indeed, especially if that interaction went less than smoothly. Ino loved to conjure up conversations between two creatures when he couldn't hear them. An odd sort of practice for a dragon who generally lacked in imagination, but he liked it just the same.

Thus thoroughly stretched out, he curled again, head falling over the base of his tail as his first set of eyelids dropped to cover his eyes. He watched the strange happenings of the two men narrowly. It seemed wholly purposeless...and an absolutely needless risk. F'urHis didn't trust Saboth's enough to be doing this, and yet there they were. Huffing softly, the dark creature settled in to wait, still keeping an eye out for the other dragon. Just in case Saboth pulled anything funny.

---

Another mild shrug from F'ur. He still found it funny, and he was most definitely sober presently. Then again, F'lix probably didn't know why F'ur called him kitten, so the majority of the humor would likely be lost on him. There were few men who could pull off dangerous, casual grace - not to mention the way the kid had the habit of narrowing his golden eyes into slits - while still giving off the impression of being...well, basically harmless. Aggression from F'lix inevitably seemed more like playing, or at least like a young little thing attempting to flex his muscles when he was still too much of a lightweight to be of any real concern. Unless, of course, you opened yourself up and invited him to take advantage of you, F'ur amended wryly.

Oh, bother. The wince was likely obvious, mild though it was, when the Fortian realized that the phrasing had come out...wrong. Too many turns of constant flirtations apparently had made it second nature. It would have been just as effective to ask F'lix if his current position was okay, rather than asking how the Bedenite wanted him. Oh well. He wasn't going to sit there and analyze every phrase that left his throat. Waste of time. The older man simply nodded and shifted around, resting back on his palms. He glanced up at F'lix, a brow quirked. Defensive?

The dish was already in his hands, though, and, truly, the younger man wasn't stupid to give him something to hold onto. F'ur still instinctively moved backwards, legs spreading to keep from touching the other man, his hands coming close to his chest even though there was really nothing to protect his core from at present. All as a matter of reaction. "In general, a more detailed warning would be appropriate," F'ur commented dryly, voice utterly calm. It wasn't his reaction to F'lix so much as turns of training. F'ur himself didn't really mind the younger man with his back to him, as it were, even if it did mean he couldn't really see what was being done to his foot. Seeing wouldn't change the fact that he wouldn't be able to react in time if F'lix decided that etching in his skin was a little too dull for his tastes.

The bluerider couldn't resist a chuckle. "I'm sure it will be mostly negligible, F'lix." He wasn't exactly a glutton for pain, but he'd been through enough of it that it usually didn't phase him...though, admittedly, most of the time he was pumped full of adrenaline during those times. Right now his pulse was at it's usual crawling pace. "Nothing's worth doing unless a little pain is involved," he added, his tone lowering into something vaguely reminiscent of a growl. Was there a suggestive tone in there? Quite possibly. "It's how we know we're still alive." Something he very adamantly believed. No one ever achieved anything without being willing to shoulder some pain in the process.

"Looking for excuses to be near me again?" the older man teased mildly. "You know, I didn't accept the request to teach you just to get you to shut up." Admittedly, he'd cursed himself afterwards for making the offer, but, truly, there was no reason not to now that he was aware of the younger man's interest. And maybe being around F'ur a little more would allow the novelty to wear off, and F'lix could turn his attentions elsewhere. It would certainly relieve some of the boredom.

Reaching around F'lix, he offered the dish, pressing it lightly against the Bendenite's stomach. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were stalling," he added, a challenging note very definitely clear behind his words. It was still just as unreasonable, but F'ur would see it through. He wasn't the sort to back down from a challenge, any more than Ino was. Even if the challenge was simply ignoring the paranoia that stated it was stupid to let F'lix take a knife to his body unchecked. Ever the daredevil was F'ur.

[rii]

"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?"

[Requiem]

F'ur's eyes narrowed slightly, the stark smile that was faintly chilling (not to be confused with the smile that concealed irritation, which he'd more or less dropped with F'lix) back on his face. A banged up F'lix leaking blood out his orifices...you couldn't be too surprised if he was a bit too familiar. People acted strange when their brains were scrambled as a general rule. When the younger man had gotten so at ease around him when in his right mind, the Fortian had no idea, but he didn't really approve of it. Mostly because he had the nagging suspicion that it would take more than bluffing to reestablish the necessary distance...and F'ur wasn't the sort to engage in more aggressive behaviors.

He expelled the thoughts in a slow exhale. Whatever the reason, clearly F'lix was overly comfortable with him - probably because the truth that F'ur wasn't going to (at least deliberately) do anything to actually harm the Bendenite had to be relatively obvious by now - and there was no point in worrying over it. What was done was done. It was definitely a little odd to have someone wrapped around his leg, however, when their relationship was only this side of civil. Or so the Fortian classified it as. They sure got in enough minor skirmishes on a regular basis that 'friendly' would probably be overly generous.

F'lix's sudden freezing produced a similar stiffening in the other man, F'ur's eyes tracing the position of the other warily. Oh. Just what he'd said, huh? "Not the most straightforward person," F'ur agreed quietly. It was, in truth, at a point where he wasn't even sure what he wanted or what he was saying or intended half the time. On some level he did. It just wasn't always a conscious one. "But there's no reason for me not to teach you. A man can only benefit from - " A pause at the small bite of the blade, but he continued the thought after the initial prick. " - the people around him being competent. If more than competent, all the better. And I do get bored."

Originaly he'd had no intention of watching, but the trace of pain that was more mildly uncomfortable than ought else - it did sting after a few moments - was traveling so swiftly, and the sensations were odd enough that he found himself curious. He arched forward, at first avoiding touching the younger man as his head came to rest on his knee. Graceful, skilled hand, that he had to admit. The consistency and control was enviable, particularly in one so young. Eventually, though, his muscles relaxed as he allowed himself to get drawn in by the queer lines, and he stopped keeping himself well away from F'lix. The touch was light, but a touch nonetheless as F'ur came to fully lean against his knee.

He blinked at the request, having almost forgotten the man attached to the blade. Perhaps he was just a bit morbid after fifteen turns. There was a stark simplicity about a life and death struggle, and blood was the medium in which that story was painted. This wasn't the same, but it was close enough that he found himself intrigued. "Mmm." F'ur reached behind himself without looking, fishing out the rag and handing it to F'lix while still studying the lines. "What...is it supposed to be?" The questioning wasn't at all judgmental. There were suggestions there...suggestions of beauty and sharp angles and subtle power...but he'd never seen anything like it. To him, drawing was pictures that could be identified. He liked this better, but he still wasn't sure what it was.

"I mean...it's more like...a description in the flow and movement of the blade and the lines by extension...then a rendering." Finally looking away, he cocked his head curiously at F'lix. The stinging, too, he approved of, perhaps because he could feel the Bendenite's work, instead of just see it. Kind of gave it a certain life.

[rii]

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.

[Requiem]

The Fortian was openly frowning at F'lix, though it was from the act of concentrating on what the younger man was trying to show him and not an actual expression of disapproval. His brow knotted slightly. He followed the trace of the arm in the air, the knot deepening, but then there was the wrist flick. That he recognized instantly, if only because there were very few other things it could be. The opening of a fan. His eyes widened, gaze darting to F'lix's face almost questioningly before the moved back down to the cleaned foot.

Even when F'lix began speaking, he didn't acknowledge it right away. He was reading the lines from the perspective of the sweep of an arm, rather than anything else his mind might have concocted without that small demonstration of the Bendenite's, and it was becoming just a little unsettling. Not that the younger man had been interested in it enough to recreate it in this odd way...the whole point of fans was the distraction, the subtle enticement. It was supposed to draw the eye and capture interest.

What had the pensive frown on his face was the fact that it was so accurate. Read this way, not only was he imitating the motion of the fans and the body directing the fans in the...human carving...but they were right to the smallest detail. After watching just once. Because no one knew this movements as intimately as F'ur, and here they were, written on him. A mixture of emotions and thoughts whirled in his chest and mind. It was creepy, endearing, curious and all manner of other things at once. That someone could see something and not only remember it but imitate it with that amount of accuracy was downright scary. Thrilling too, to a point. To teach someone like that...hrm. F'ur knew there were geniuses out there...people with native ability so strong that they made all those who trained every day of their lives look like nothing...but he'd never actually met one.

But that meant that if he did teach F'lix, in short order he was likely to be surpassed. The only reason he could abide the kid's presence as it was...was more or less the simple fact that F'lix couldn't touch him if he didn't desire it. Then again, maybe it was just an odd gift for human carving. F'ur almost snorted at the thought.

The finger tracing up his shin feather-light felt strange. He growled softly, his hand coiling in the boy's hair. F'ur drew the head up...no fast movements, never those, as the point wasn't to startle. He searched F'lix's face for a long time. "You memorized it. After seeing it once." No question in his voice. He could see that, now that F'lix had shown him the key to reading the lines. Nearly forgotten was the etching itself. "Do you always do that, kitten? It's quite a skill." A definite cold touch behind the words.

He released the young man's hair now that he had his full attention, wriggling his toes slightly. "Ballsy kid," the man added quietly. F'ur snorted then. "Please. Continue. I want to see what you apparently saw. It's only fair, really. They say you can see into a man's soul through his art, and seeing as how you seem intent on dissecting me..." Wry litle twitch of the lips there. "Quid pro quo."

It seemed that this one was more dangerous than he seemed, perhaps precisely in that he didn't seem dangerous. Most likely it would be a mistake to trust him at all. Most likely that didn't much matter, because if he had a mind like that...F'ur was already royally screwed if F'lix decided to use it against him. A more paranoid man might have marked the Bendenite for death right then, before any damage could be done. It wouldn't be very hard, really. Not hard at all, with the man so close. F'ur wasn't the type, however, to ever kill someone without giving them a sporting chance...nor would he do so simply because they might become a threat.

[rii]

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.