Smeared black ink [F'ur]

[Requiem]

F'ur didn't bother to put any pressure behind the hold...it was secure enough as it was so long as he didn't let his arms be shaken loose. F'lix's lack of motion didn't really bother him much, though it was somewhat unexpected in that the kid usually didn't hesitate when he got something in his head. Or hadn't from what little F'ur had seen. He caught his breath after a moment...something that would have been easier to do if he didn't have a man on his chest. Not that F'lix was heavy, but that didn't change the fact that it would have been easier.

His eyes flicked toward F'lix. "You act like I had nothing to do with it," he commented dryly. So perhaps he had chosen to put the boy in this particular hold because it would protect him from any chance mishaps when they struck earth, but if that was true, it was subconscious. Nor would it have been surprising...as a teacher, he had to put his student's well-being first. The kid got hurt and that would slow down the instruction. F'ur wasn't someone who tended to do anything halfway.

Wincing slightly as F'lix's heel dug in, he twitched, but otherwise didn't make a move. The pressure was gone soon enough anyway. Perhaps it was...too trusting...but he really didn't think that the kid would be stupid enough to go for the groin - at least deliberately. After all, that would only result in a very annoyed F'ur who still had F'lix in a rather difficult hold to squirm out of. "Just fine," he muttered. Other than the rock digging into his shoulderblade, which was decidedly uncomfortable.

"That's not going to..." But it looked like F'lix had already figured it out. "...work." F'ur wondered what else the bluerider would try, patient enough to let him go through several attempts if that was what F'lix wanted to do. The nip at his arm came as something of a surprise. He shifted his hips awkwardly, his hold on F'lix's arms naturally tightening in response. "Brat," the man commented, without ire.

He grunted at the kid's request, releasing him, rocking the other bluerider off of him with his hips before sliding on top of F'lix, his arms spread slightly so the other could mimic the hold. "Go on. You learn visually, and I'm not good at describing things."

[rii]

"You shouldn't." F'lix eyebrow twitched, a faint scolding–if it could be called anything–subtly tying in with the ever quiet words. "If I do something stupid, I should get hurt for it, not someone else." The younger felt positive that F'ur could have spun them around and used him as a landing pad instead. It'd teach F'lix a lesson to not be so reckless. Maybe, not really, long ago pain had lost it's original meaning. Part of him grumbled, causing him to grind his teeth with the inner annoyance. If other people got hurt for his stupid actions, probably would do to teach him better to not act in such a manner–but still.

After being dislodged, F'lix made a motion to sit up and half-choked when F'ur came down on top of him. Hands were held up, palms out to press at the space of back between the man's shoulder and keep him from coming any closer. Fortunately he caught his reaction before giving in to the impulse to shove the other away. F'lix hadn't been prepared to have the roles switched, although it did make complete sense, and the explanation F'ur gave made F'lix's arms fall back; accepting the weight. A slight a grunt sounded. No, F'ur wasn't all that heavy, but he was a solid weight–seeming little more than a tightly bound frame of whipcord muscle. A very collected weight.

Hesitantly he wove his arms under F'urs and locked his hands behind the other bluerider's head. Tentative at first, to make sure he had limbs in the right place, and done while ignoring any straying thoughts about how decidedly odd it all felt; curling arms around F'ur, fingers in the man's hair–that feeling would disappear just as soon as they got back into the motions and he could expel such problematic musing.

F'lix quickly tightened the hold–wouldn't do to make it easy for F'ur, even though the purpose was to teach and learn. If there was to be a demonstration, he wanted the full extent of it, not a gentle play of motions. Make it real. His legs too, came up; left one pressing low across the abdomen with heel pressed near the right bony point in hip, to try and counter any twisting motions. The right leg wrapped around F'ur's leg on the same side, applying a slight downward pressure to keep the knee from bending.

[Requiem]

F'lix was a bit slow to respond, but then, it seemed he'd surprised him a little. The Fortian wasn't sure why it was surprising for someone to show you when you'd asked to be shown. It wasn't as if there was someone else around he could get to hold him so F'lix could just watch, even if F'ur had been inclined to teach in that manner - which he wasn't.

F'ur shifted his hips a little to more evenly distribute his weight, noticing the warmth at his back at a distance. His muscles twitched in response to the confinement as F'lix tightened his hold. The Fortian couldn't help but chuckle when the other man proceeded to wrap his legs around him, as well. That definitely made things a little more interesting...though it didn't change much ultimately. "Not going to make it easy for me, are you?" he teased the other man quietly.

He remained still for another couple of seconds, but then he began moving all at once. Undulating downward with his hips to ground them (F'lix had unwittingly given him more leverage by coiling around him as he had) his right leg remained pinned and set him at an angle as he tucked his left leg underneath him. The man's arms weren't very mobile, but they could bend at the elbow, and his hand brushed down the right side of F'lix's jaw, using the coiled leg to make it easier to reach and digging his hip into the flesh of the boy's leg.

The hand moved up swiftly, finding the bundle of nerves just behind the ear. Admittedly, you weren't likely to end up in this sort of hold unless they were attempting to control you - not kill you - for whatever reason. But, in some ways, F'ur found it more important that a man know how to get out of these situations rather than the fatal ones. For one, they usually led to the same ending, but he'd never so much as considered being taken alive...not with the dragonless slave trade alive and well. And, just because they were now Selenitas, that didn't negate the possibility. Better to be killed than used.

Keeping the pressure on F'lix's leg - and his own knee to some extent, but not enough to be more than just a bit uncomfortable - he applied his knuckle to the nerves briefly. It closely mimicked a sharp stab, and the boy would definitely feel it. Invasive sort of pain. Thus the reason for the brief touch. "Just keep it up until their grip loosens, and you can pretty much do what you want from there." There were other ways...but none more efficient.

[rii]

F'lix was.. glad that he was behind F'ur at the moment, because when the other chuckled the younger bluerider reflexively curled closer–tucking his face close to the back of F'ur's head as if he meant to hide. The reason being he already felt silly and more than a touch skittish, and the laughter (although in no way sounding like ridicule) made his cheek bones and the tips of his ears turn a noteworthy shade of pink. Without his long bangs to shield his expression, he felt even more idiotic–open, vulnerable. No, he had no idea what he was doing, but he was trying. That had to be painfully obvious to F'ur. A sterner tone or harsher words wouldn't have phased F'lix, he was attuned to such mannerisms; the quiet teasing was really.. such things he had yet to learn to ignore; they snaked inside of his mind worse than any insult. Stop.

"Won't learn well if it's not somewhat realistic and don't want you getting bored." He answered in a similar quiet tone, not quite managing to get the sarcasm across. Truth none-the-less, even if it came from his insecurity about the whole ordeal. A terrible thought, spawning into a dozen more and F'lix was thankful when F'ur began to move–all conscious thought got shoved aside.

He tightened the grip further, using a bit of pressure to see how a person moved or yielded to the touch. The brushing of his jaw though, made F'lix want to twist his head down and to the side to bite at those fingers. Strange, he barely acknowledge the digging into his leg aside that it was happening, but the part that caused a more immediate response from him was not pain, but the touch of fingers. And, when the knuckle pressed against that pressure point, F'lix growled–he should have bitten that hand when it had still been within his reach.

The growl turned into a chuckle though, and F'lix loosened his hold on the other bending his leg under him to get the weight off of his leg. It amused him, greatly, that just a touch would work to get out of such an effective hold. "That's it?" He mused, unwinding an arm to reach up to where F'ur's hand still hovered, touching first where the hand was, then moving to the spot he had pressed. It had not really hurt, but he had certainly felt it, even instinctively tried to move away instead of stubbornly fighting against the sensation.

"I like to think I know the best places to open a vein, what tendons to sever to render a limb useless or paralyze someone.. but, that–" He reached down, trying to find the spot on F'ur's head. Not to jab, just study the location on another person. "What.. pressure points, right? Those.. then knowing which way to twist and arm or a leg. All that. It's an entirely new area of expertise, takes a different line of thinking.."

He grunted, rolling his back and bit and pushing lightly at F'ur, at least enough so the younger could sit up himself. He pulled his legs back and absently bent them under himself, perching back up on the balls of his feet.

[Requiem]

The involuntary twitch was proof enough he'd found it. People who had been doing this awhile wouldn't be phased by most pressure points...not enough to relinquish a hold...but there was always that first involuntary response, even when you knew it was coming. That brief window of a second or two that allowed a man to break free. F'ur didn't, because this was merely playing. Training, yes, but not hardcore. A taste. The two getting a little more familiar with one another. It was clear F'lix had something of a competitive streak, which was good, but the man was all too quick to back off. No matter. That could be addressed later.

F'ur's head naturally tilted to one side at F'lix's touch, giving him more access to his neck and that side of his head. It was more of an instinctive reaction than anything else...an enemy wouldn't move like that. Still, it served the function of satisfying the former Bendenite's curiosity. "Not so different," the Fortian responded quietly. He didn't fight with blades much himself, but you had to know what sort of damage you could take and what you should avoid, because sometimes evading an attack altogether wasn't an option. Especially if the odds were stacked against you, which was the norm for Fort when it came to fighting Benden. "Nerves tend to run along tendons and arteries, and arteries themselves make good pressure points at times. Not as painful, but they'll deaden a limb."

He yielded to F'lix's light shoves, rolling to one side and coming up in a crouch, his arms draped lightly over his knees. It was a particularly comfortable position for him...he'd spent hours just this way, waiting. "You'll have to learn most of them. We can do that later, though." He'd taken F'lix's actions as a desire to stop. Frankly, his foot was still bleeding due to the movements, and while it wasn't really producing even so much as discomfort, he figured it was likely best to stop aggravating it. If only because hungry critters tended to gravitate toward the smell. F'ur didn't mind a bout with a feline or two to get his blood pumping, but he didn't want to end up defending anyone. That's where most of his scars came from, anyway...trying to protect the people who just weren't fast or strong enough. He took losing a wingmate personally.

After a moment, he straightened to his feet. "You've got a decent start, you know. Is that common?" He didn't come right out and ask if Bendenites usually had such a good foundation as far as grappling went, but his meaning had to be clear enough. "I haven't noticed it if it is." Then again, in all honesty, if he'd been pitted seriously against a good number from his home Weyr, he likely wouldn't notice with them, either. F'ur didn't believe in giving people a chance when it came to that sort of thing if they couldn't make it for themselves. After all, drawing something out just increased the probability that a random fluke would land him in some real trouble.

A good dance of wits and skill was fun, yes, but it wasn't so much fun when toting around broken limbs or pouring blood from a few nasty holes. "Are you still interested?" he asked, almost as an afterthought...and there was just the slightest trace of uncertainty behind the question. He was getting interested in seeing where this could go - F'ur had never really worked with a true natural before - but F'lix seemed tentative at times and what was that about boring?

[rii]

At first F'lix didn't respond, keeping his opinions concerning the differences to himself. He knew what he meant, so explaining it to someone else didn't interest him. Not that he was any good at putting anything into words. But, after a second, a doubt jabbed at his conscious and he figured that if F'ur was teaching him.. it would probably do better if the man knew. "A blade doesn't need power, only touch." He eased the subject softly while extending his arm out, underside up. It gave him something to focus his attention on, as he couldn't seem bring himself to look at F'ur. One finger traced over the inside of his elbow. Slice, damage done. He drew another example, opening the arm wrist to elbow. Again, done and over with. "A move is made, and it's finished. I can commit to it because I know the ending I want. And when it's done, it's over with. I don't have to worry about maintaining control, or pressure, or working toward a more dominant position."

The arm bent up, fingers going to his dark hair as his golden eyes adverted elsewhere. Perhaps that would explain why he backed off after a move, or paused between motions with the Fortian. "I'm not insulting anything. Don't take it the wrong way, I admire what you do. I just.. " F'lix further tucked his head down to avoid any eye contact. He firmed his lips together before he could embarrass himself any further. Flipping a hand to the side to dismiss whatever he had been trying to convey. Obviously he was lacking the skills for grappling, aside from the actual grapple part, and worried that F'ur would give up on him after the brief demonstrations. F'lix had never had a teacher before, and asking someone to be patient with him seemed to be expecting too much.

Common? F'lix rolled the question over in his head a few times, catching the full weight behind the words. Yet the man's following comment suggested that it didn't matter either way. After a while, F'lix gave a half-hearted shrug, "Some of the higher-ups trained with each other. Those that have lived through the war tend to stick together. There is no real.. organized training. Whatever you do, just don't become something to be seen as a threat. To start off, it's more along the lines of you learn, or you die." Learn to be ruthless, to shed the shackles of a humane nature, to stuff all those emotions and compassion into a dark corner, to survive. He didn't add on that it threaded out most of the weak. Those not from Benden just didn't seem to understand the concept. Kill or be killed, that's all it was, simple and to the point.

"If you can't tell," A note of sarcasm. "I seem to attract trouble." And at some point it had changed to where he invited it. It wasn't just his attitude, but his smaller size and less than masculine features. "Had plenty of time to learn." On a more cheery side–which only consisted of him glancing side-long at F'ur with a faint smirk. F'lix held out his hands, wiggling all ten fingers at the man. "Learned well enough, anyway. I still have the appropriate amount of parts." Of course, every single one of his fingers had been broken at some time or another but, obviously, they worked just fine.

The question caused a bit of panic to leak into his system, throwing up his pulse a notch. It's not like F'ur could hear his thoughts of regret toward letting it known he wanted to be taught–by the Fortian in particular. Nor could the man know that in a way, it bothered F'lix–very much so–to be allowing himself to be on a more personal level with F'ur. They weren't friends, or anything really, aside from living at the same Weyr. Yet whatever closeness F'lix felt toward the man, unrequited as it was, proved to be a bit too much for the younger bluerider's comfort. It was distracting, made him stupid, feel vulnerable–the list went on.

"Yes." Truth, even though F'lix looked at ground–not a hard feat, since he had stayed crouched while the other had risen. And no. "I just need to work out some problems."

[Requiem]

F'ur listened, nodding after a moment. Yes, blades could make things quicker in a fight, he'd give the kid that much. The bluerider was at a point where his efficiency was such that he could kill bare-handed with a speed that rivaled blade fighters, but as far as the initial stages? Knives definitely would get you a quicker kill, and sometimes that was the difference between life and death in the field. He'd just never been good enough with them. It was hard to practice with something like that, he'd always been worried about really hurting whoever he was training with, and even if he could hold his own against most Bendenites with a blade...compared to the better Fortians he was a flatout joke. They just weren't natural for him. There was a strange drag on the arm and...eh.

"Not insulted. You're right...especially given what little you've seen. This method takes more effort." To learn and to execute. "But it also gives you a one-up on most bladefighters once you get better. Think, F'lix. Have you ever seen people just wrestling in the middle of a battle? It's not a matter of finding the dominant position and keeping it...that's just teaching you how to control yourself and others in a small way. It's about momentarily neutralizing their attack, their strength, their speed, or gaining that second of surprise that will allow you to kill them and move on to the next." And it was a good deal more personal for him to get up close and smell their fear, taste their sweat, than let the knives do all the work.

"In that way there's not much difference at all, I should say."

F'ur nodded mildly. He tapped his teeth lightly with one finger, then shrugged. "That's true for everyone, though. We didn't have to worry about our own, for the most part - aside from an accident here or there. But neither did anyone have any compassion for people who couldn't hold their own. The dead were too weak to survive. That's just how it was - is." People liked to think they were different from one another, but the only difference F'ur could see between Benden and Fort was Fort understood the necessity to try to pull everyone up. Otherwise, they'd get overrun. Benden seemed to have limitless resources as far as manpower went. Fort had its own darkness...in abundance. Didn't lessen the man's general contempt for Benden, but he didn't tend to find northerners to be too different from one another. There was a common strain of ruthlessness...

Maybe it had a lot to do with the fact that F'ur tended to respect all true warriors, and he wasn't so blind that he couldn't find some of them in Benden's ranks. There were people worthy of respect from that Weyr...and yes, he'd tended to take care of them personally when he saw one. Partially honoring the person's ability, and partially to be certain the interrogators didn't get them. There were people worthy of disdain at Fort, as well. He couldn't bear the thought of a man nearly unmatched pitted against other men, a true fighter, rendered helpless and reduced to something less than human. Probably because that was one of his own greatest fears. He'd much rather die than break under interrogation and sell out everything he thought for and everyone he cared about. Because everyone had a breaking point. Everyone. Anyone who claimed otherwise was a self-deluded fool.

F'ur snorted and shook his head at F'lix. Yes, appropriate amount of parts, indeed. Nevermind that people who lost parts didn't tend to last much longer anyway. At least, such was the case when said parts were significant. Like those fingers the man was wriggling at him...important for a blade fighter. Not so much for one like F'ur, though he'd definitely miss it if he ever lost one. Didn't plan on it.

He frowned slightly, moving over to crouch in front of F'lix. "Problems? Anything I can help with? I know you have some issues with being touched, but it really is the best way to learn and I don't have any pretties to demonstrate on." The 'pretties' slang for those one held in contempt - idiots, more or less - was more common to Benden than Fort, but F'ur had taken a liking to it awhile back. Even if it rarely left his lips.

[rii]

Most of what F'lix knew of F'ur's style, had come from their first meeting. Watching the other with the fans had added to his knowledge, but originally F'lix had been able to see the control in just how F'ur had handled himself that day. The man never did more than necessary, never gave away the depth of his skill, or exactly what the skill was–it had simply been the control that F'lix had seen. In a way it almost made him sick to think about it. He did know control, had suffered under the hand of it for a few turns. That kind of level of control not only in body, but in mind, he could recognize. That methodical, lethal..

Dark thoughts, F'lix quickly flicked his eyes up to F'ur and concentrated on the words–drive away any of his own inner musings. He didn't comment, because in time he would either learn the truth of F'ur's words, or hit a stone wall in his training. The returning opinion from F'ur, did make F'lix brow wrinkle with thought, his eyes once again straying off to examine various rocks and blades of grass. The younger never really thought about Fort–but he had not been part of the war as long. He had fought more against his own people than the 'enemy'. What did he think of them.. that Fortians liked to think of themselves high-and-mighty. They weren't any different than others, no man could escape that inner nature, but those of Fort enjoyed their lies, their farce. But no, he didn't see others as much different–acknowledged that others viewed him as something terrible, something to disdain. He accepted it, others could deny the own truth in themselves, but it was pointless to be offended by the truth.

What what? F'lix grinned as he folded his arms over his knees. Men at Benden liked to play games where they chopped of fingers, or tried to snap them off, so yes, he had learned well enough to avoid that. Especially so when he often found himself the target for random abuse. The expression quickly waned when F'ur moved down to his level. Golden eyes narrowed at the question, searching F'ur's face for any sign of a ruse. F'ur knew the problem already, why was he asking? Offering to help–what the shard kind of joke was that? Tch. But.. no, it seemed the other was being honest. Or a really good actor, just wanting to make F'lix uncomfortable–and the younger was definitely in that position.

"I know a pretty you could use. Would amuse me to see him thrown around," He joked with a quick smirk. Yes, when in a state of discomfort, make sarcastic remarks. F'lix gave into a sigh, letting his head hang a brief moment before raising his golden eyes to the Fortian, expression frank. "It's not the touching that bothers me. It's the intention." Would that suit for an answer? F'lix adjusted his stance, fidgeting. He didn't know how to put it into words, and a demonstration was out of the question. He thought he had explained it partially before, don't grab him like that. "Anyway, that's not really the problem."

Again he squinted at the other, suspicious–F'ur knew. "My problem, F'ur, is that I like you." Not a confession, just stated in a matter-of-fact manner. This was already known, after all. He rose to his feet, stepping away and going for his scattered items still strew about the boulder. All the while continuing his reasoning. "It makes me worry too much about what you're thinking. That interferes with learning."

Crouching in front of the rock, F'lix began to stuff his items back into the pack for the sake of doing something other than listening to the thoughts darkening in his mind. "It's a problem I'll deal with because I do want to be taught by you." He thought that it would help if F'ur would stop acting nice or civil with him. But F'lix wasn't so sure he wanted F'ur to be mean either. Didn't want him to be nice, didn't want him to be mean. If F'lixe just didn't care, it wouldn't matter either way. He tossed the pack aside. There, random need for aggression adverted.

[Requiem]

F'ur cocked a brow at him, running a hand through his hair for a moment, the nonverbal quite clear. He hadn't grabbed the former Bendenite by the hair, so that was hardly the issue. And the intention was simply to teach. He didn't see where the problem was coming from, but he'd finally warmed up to the idea, and here F'lix looked like he might just talk himself out of it. There were few enough people to amuse F'ur these days. You could only prank and humiliate so many of them, and after over a turn he was getting lonely again. There'd always been someone around he could relax a bit with. Even though this was Selenitas, his nerves had him on edge. It had been quiet too long, and maintaining that tight control that kept others from noticing the dark, bloodthirsty madness that was F'ur's...He didn't love killing so much as the fight, the art, but killing was a large part of it. The danger, the adrenaline. He loved it perhaps too much...enough to be disdained by some of those who had noted it back at Fort. Everyone was expected to be dispassionate, military, controlled. So he'd learned that control, but there was less danger in amplifying the madness than otherwise, because then his rebellious streak would be obvious. And Fort was not so soft as most assumed. Just because rape wasn't a common occurrence and they didn't usually spill each other's blood...

F'lix's comment had F'ur cocking his head, the thoughts slipping away. He blinked. What? No, he knew, of course, knew that the young man seemed to have some sort of crush on him - puppy love or something similar - but he'd rather forgotten. They were training, after all, little more, and that shouldn't get in the way, should it? Then again, most people weren't as good at locking things away as F'ur was. Even if he appeared far more open than his younger companion usually did, glaring and smirking all the time.

The bluerider rose slowly, though he didn't pursue F'lix. That hardly seemed like a good idea. The man shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced out toward the water, obviously thinking. He didn't know how to fix that one. If it was a lover saying such things, the fix was easy. Just make it abundantly clear what he thought. F'ur was a possessive sort, and quite direct in such situations. But F'lix wasn't a lover. He was...a companion. A comrade of sorts. He didn't even make F'ur nervous anymore, mostly because it was clear the kid wasn't suddenly going to turn around and force the older bluerider to hurt him to protect himself.

Nor could F'lix ever really be more than a comrade. F'ur's mental block could not get past Bendenite. Simply couldn't. Nor was he sure he wanted to. There was something inherently traitorous about it. Fort would work with whoever they had to in order to accomplish the mission, put the Weyr and its leaders before anything else. In this he wasn't breaking with the deeply engrained doctrine. But to get too personal with someone who came from the place responsible for so much...he couldn't. It was wrong.

That this was probably the only thing preventing him from exploring his options with F'lix...friendship or beyond that...was in itself frustrating. But it didn't change the truth.

And he wasn't one to lie to someone. He couldn't just tell F'lix that he liked him well enough and that wasn't likely to change. Moreover, even if he did and it held even a smidgeon of truth, the other was unlikely to believe him. Finally, he shrugged, hands still buried deep. "The novelty will wear off soon enough, and then all you'll have to concentrate on is what you're learning." This he truly believed. Of course a Fortian would be interesting to a young Bendenite who seemed to have a strange attraction to pain and danger. He was sure once F'lix began to see more of him, he'd grow tired of F'ur. The Fortian didn't find himself all that interesting.

F'ur flicked a half-smile F'lix's way. "My intentions are simple enough. You want to be taught. I'm bored. You're an excellent source of entertainment...or at least better than idly counting leaves or skipping stones. It's purely selfish on my part." That should help, hopefully. "As to what I think of you personally? I don't know. I don't think it matters. Skill should be acknowledged and cultivated regardless of personal opinion - especially when I may need it to cover my back."

He paused, then. "My only opinion on you right now is you're not a bad sort...but far too reluctant if you hope to learn everything you can. I hope you get it sorted out soon." Because it certainly appeared like F'lix was about to disappear, didn't it? Gathering everything together. He mentally shrugged.

[rii]

"I hope so," F'lix commented softly as he braced one foot against the boulder and strapped the dark leather sheath to his thigh. Another sheath was tucked behind his waistband at his back, the shirt pulled down over the barely visible hilt. Having the blades on him provided at least a shred of comfort, as it would be the only kind he would ever get. He stepped up onto the rock, moving toward the water's edge before sitting crossed legged. His arms folded tightly around his torso, and he sat straight with his eyes closed in a the meditative, if very closed posture.

He really did hope that whatever he felt toward F'ur would fade. There was no novelty to be infatuated with, as what F'ur had shown him from the beginning was very different than how the man behaved now. True, at first it had just been an attraction to something dangerous, that the man knew how to play the game–had that level of self-control. Along the way F'lix's perception had become contorted, perhaps influenced by the F'ur he had seen while the man had been delusional. Then observing the other training, the passion in those moves, certainly alluring–F'lix did see the killer there, and that only drew his interest more. He wanted to see the man in action, he really did. Even now, the patience and quiet words, F'lix liked those as well (even if it made him utterly confused) and nothing seemed to detour those feelings. The younger bluerider was a fiercely loyal creature, not often did he genuinely like another (and for good reasons), and detaching from that part of himself would not be easy, if at all possible. So he honestly did hope that the feelings would pass on their own. Surely all he needed to do was find someone else. A nice girl or such..

F'lix lips twitched, barely avoiding a sharp frown. He didn't have much experience in the area of relationships outside of what he had with Ja'kin. Any attention he received came to him, not the other way around. Albeit, there had been that one green rider, mousey thing. F'lix had liked him, been nice to him.. and Ja'kin had his bronze kill the boy's green. Last F'lix knew the boy had been sold off into the dragonless slave trade. Benden didn't tolerate male green riders well, if at all–if it hurt F'lix in the process, that had just been icing to the cake for the bronzer. Besides, it had been F'lix fault, right? He shouldn't have been stupid. See what happened when he did that, other people got hurt. It just went to show that such things were not meant for F'lix. Only fit for hate.

Only fit to be a source of entertainment for another person.

F'lix tucked his chin down, brows knitting as he quietly sat by, listening to F'ur's words. F'lix had suspicions about why F'ur had agreed to teach him, and even though the words affirm the doubts, remind him that his feelings were misplaced–and again he had put himself in a position to be nothing more than a toy to amuse a bored individual. That's really all F'lix was good for, in the end. He had been hoping F'ur would prove to be different. But no, just the same but with a new face. Only humoring F'lix because he was bored and it amused him to do these things. F'lix was only slightly more interesting than counting leaves. This is what he got for being hopeful. It hurt to hear, and F'lix had been.. somewhat happy.. to just ignore the big bronze dragon in the room. But he had needed to hear it all the same. Couldn't go on pretending, after all, foolishly being hopeful to think of maybes and what ifs. No matter what the situation, the circumstances, he was bound to be on the losing end.

He felt something wet slide down his cheek and his brows knitted further into a scowl. He made no motions to wipe his face, as his back was turned to the man and he didn't want to bring attention to his troubled emotions. Shards, he really was pathetic, wasn't he. Utterly disgusted with himself for willingly putting himself in the situation. He knew better, shardit. Selenitas had softened him too much. It had been so much easier at Benden to shed such useless feelings.

"Thank you," Soft words, steady enough not to betray any inner turmoil. "I'm dense sometimes, get silly ideas in my head. A reminder now and then helps." Only at the end did his tone twist into something toneless and hollow. Just another Bendenite, worth nothing more than a body count. A toy to be pushed and twisted around until broken. Silly F'lix, thinking leaving Benden would change anything. He couldn't escape that fate. Another wet trail, silently tracing down the opposite cheek. "I think you should go now."

[Requiem]

"I probably should."

The voice came from directly behind F'lix, the Fortian having slid silently toward the other bluerider when the words and tone wormed their way into a suspicion. Why did it have to be so hard with this one? F'ur rarely had trouble dealing with people, producing whatever result he most desired, but F'lix didn't dance the same dance. An enigma. A crying enigma, which stirred him strangely in ways that F'ur couldn't really define. He hadn't meant to hurt the kid.

How could anyone be more than just a little infatuated with someone they hardly knew?

He reached forward from his crouch on the rock, hand brushing beneath F'lix's chin, his other hand lingering close to the sheathed dagger just in case. Instead of urging the boy's face up, however, the touch was more to keep his head from dipping when F'ur angled around him. Yes, crying. The Fortian sighed. "I would have thought it was much too early for you to develop anything more than a crush. Didn't they teach you to hate us?" It wasn't the first time someone had been interested in him when he couldn't return the interest. But it was the first time that he had to admit he had his own set of softer feelings involved, and it was getting everything all tangled. So much easier to take care of things the way they should be - with minimal fuss - when you weren't conflicted yourself.

A small crush was manageable. It would fade. Or, if it continued, it could be neglected by both parties. But F'lix wasn't someone who just randomly started crying over small things...F'ur knew that. It would only have been more unusual if he had randomly started leaking, as Ino liked to call it.

"I don't know what you want from me." Not true. He let his hand fall, his body coiling on the rock as he glanced down at the ground disturbed by the two men. "I don't know what you expect, more like. Would it really be that much easier if I told the full truth instead of picking and choosing? You can't be more to me than a pasttime, F'lix, something to relieve the boredom, a comrade when I need someone to cover my back." He rubbed lightly at the bridge of his nose, tempted to leave it at that.

It was probably a mistake to say anything more, but the tears bothered him. He was no better with tears than the average male. They flustered him.

"Because it doesn't matter if your mix of aggression and nervousness is endearing - and frustrating. It doesn't matter that you're cute, or quick to learn. It doesn't matter that I've only ever trained like this with people I was intimate with. It doesn't even matter that you're my type, which you are. None of it matters, because I'm prejudiced." He let out a soft, self-mocking chuckle, his eyes sliding over toward F'lix before falling back. "Even knowing that I shouldn't be - even being capable of getting past most of it as far as day-to-day things go - my mind can't go beyond simple companionship without throwing it back up...where you're from. It shouldn't matter. But it does. I can't F'lix. I used to think I was better than that, but in the end I'm just as bad as most everyone else."

His leg dropped, and he swirled his toe lightly through the sand. "It was supposed to just be a matter of enjoying your company. It was supposed to be a crush that would go away when you found someone else who was more receptive. Then we'd never have to have this conversation." Because F'ur didn't think it was altogether that helpful to know. Yet the tears seemed to draw it out of him anyway, because he hated being the cause of them. And because, if F'lix was simply born elsewhere, if Saboth had Impressed elsewhere, he'd likely have the kid in his arms right now.

Sometimes he truly did despise himself.

"It has to just be a pasttime for me," he repeated softly, his voice less firm than he wanted it to be.

[rii]

F'lix wanted to hurt something–carve it into a bloody mess, hear the sound of bones grinding, snapping. And in his head, that something was a person, not any one in particular, but he just wanted to cause pain. One of the things he had adopted from his environment. How Benden of him, when he couldn't properly express his emotions, his desire was to inflict that pain and frustration onto someone else. So when the voice sounded, too close, F'lix's fingers–his hands had been resting flat along the sides of his chest–dug into his rib cage, fingers curling in over the dried, slightly muddied shirt and raking along palpable bone.

The touch to his chin made the muscle in his jaw flex, but he didn't jerk away or tense up, though the desire to do such a thing was there. The younger kept his eyes closed, waiting to hear–ah yes, there it was, the sigh. Yes, he was crying–not full on, but the few tears that had escaped the corners of his eyes were enough to earn disgust; the act itself must have been a pathetic sight to behold. When F'ur spoke, F'lix turned his chin away, not wanting his face to be seen.

Perhaps it was just a silly crush, because F'lix didn't–couldn't–know the other well enough to really like him. But the younger bluerider did have the habit of looking beyond the exterior, of seeing something.. pulling it apart.. laying out all the pieces in front of himself.. memorizing it and being able to put it all back together. All in a subconscious practice, as he had done to F'ur fan dancing, translating it to the carving on the man's foot. Was it really any wonder if he had done it to the man himself, even if there was bad along with the good, whatever he saw there, he liked.

What did he want? Expect? F'lix eyes slitted open, just the barest hints of dark gold between dark lashes. He didn't even know the answers to those questions. No, he never expected F'ur to return his feelings, never really expected anything from the man–at least nothing positive. What had caused all this? Jealousy. Maybe. The idea held potential, and F'lix attempted to rationalize the source. He had felt envious toward how F'ur felt toward that Ylt'ra. Yes, F'lix would admit (to himself) that he wished someone would care for him that much. Wanted what he couldn't have, really. If that held any truth, F'lix couldn't be sure, just thinking that he might be that deplorable made his stomach twist further with self-loathing.

F'lix let his eyes fall back to a close, feeling another droplet trek down the moistened path on his cheek. The man slid the dagger in, and F'ur just couldn't resist twisting it. And in silence F'lix again listened to it all, not bothering to shield himself from their effect. He could taste the bile rising in the back of his throat. It served him right, for being stupid. Nothing mattered. No, didn't make a difference if, Faranth forbid, he might even be like-able if not for that one thing he'd never be able to change. F'lix really wish he could see a source of good in the words, that F'ur didn't mean any harm by them. But, the former Bendenite was utterly incapable of seeing the light. Too much time living in darkness and his mind conjured negative comments and repeated them in an endless loop. Hadn't he been foolish enough by being hopeful, of trying to be positive?

If someone didn't outright break him down completely, he'd eventually do the job himself.

F'lix felt the hostility skimming beneath his skin, a faint buzz of energy urging his muscles to respond. Violence seemed a good response to anything, because F'lix didn't know how to respond to the situation. He didn't want to talk. Words would fail him, double edged things that they were. He wanted to punch F'ur, shove him off the rock; something, anything. His fingers continued to move, restless, itching to do something other than rub at the material of his shirt. But F'ur wasn't leaving.. how could the man expect him to talk about it? Hadn't he done enough damage?

"I don't know what I ever did to any of you other than exist." He spoke softly while his eyes opened half-way, remaining narrowed on the water. The only people, in his opinion, that had the right to hate him were other Bendenites. It had been their blood that stained his hands most. "I could bore you with countless stories about times I wished I had been born elsewhere, but what would be the point."

"I've accepted that everyone needs someone to blame, someone to hate. You don't need a reason, and neither does anyone else." His voice was weakening, and F'lix had to stop before it could quaver. Even Benden needed someone to hate. F'lix thought he was use to it, and he'd rather people direct their hate at him because he had an resistance to it, but right now it did bother him. He wasn't as immune as he thought. "But I haven't–I don't want to–accept that I'm just a toy. That I am here just to amuse you because you're bored. That all I'm good for is to pass the time. I've had more than my fair share of that, and it's just so.. ironic–" He paused, laughing softly, the hollow sound quickly dying. "–that I seem so willing to put myself back into that position."

"Before you say it, I already know, It's my own sharding fault. I told you, it's a problem I'll deal with." F'lix ended the words with a firm finality. His head tilted slightly and his shoulders firmed in a gesture that seemed he had turned away from F'ur all over again. F'lix wanted to leave.. but F'ur was in the way and the only other option was splashing into the water. Getting wet all over again wouldn't do to improve his mood.

[Requiem]

He flinched, glancing at F'lix, his jaw tightening. "I'm not pretending it makes any sharding sense," he growled quietly. But he listened anyway, even though he probably shouldn't have. Felt guilty enough about the whole thing. It shouldn't matter. F'lix was too young - obviously not the sort that he'd faced for so many turns, a creature likely dismissed and used at Benden - to have been one of those who'd hurt F'ur. One of those who had taken. Because, even knowing you were at war, that someone had to die, the brothers you fought beside were still your brothers in every way that mattered. And it hurt to lose them. Not a hurt easy to forget. Or to forgive.

A wound constantly torn at for turn after turn after turn. The name of the place made his gut twist with hatred. Almost as much as the name of R'anatar did. Because the only thing worse than that constant pain was the sharp, unexpected pain of betrayal. Fort didn't turn on one another like that. It simply didn't. He'd never felt the need to guard himself in that direction, and the wound still stung.

F'ur was silently fuming at F'lix, a rare enough thing for him. The stirring of the sand continued in slow circles. What right did the kid have to judge him? What right? F'ur had been fighting since before the child's balls dropped and he stopped sucking at his mother's teat. (Perhaps a slight exaggeration, but upset doesn't usually bother about accuracy.) Of course, acknowledging upset meant acknowledging the truth behind it. Yes, it was a blanket hate, a defense mechanism that had turned into an almost insatiable drive. He'd been warped. Ino had been warped. But without the hate there was only the emptiness, curling up in a corner somewhere and not caring. At least he didn't actively hate those who didn't deserve it. He couldn't just turn himself around on a mark, though. No one could. He'd elected to still feel, and that meant the whole spectrum of emotions.

Warped as they were.

The reaction was instantaneous, a clenching of muscles that released before F'ur thought about it. He backhanded F'lix, the anger behind the movement clear...even if it was equally clear that he'd pulled the force behind it, diminished it. "Shut up," he hissed. His voice softened, but the anger behind it still lingered. "Is everything so black and white to you? You're not a toy. I don't despise or hate you. That would make it easier to play whatever game you wanted to play, to be whoever you wanted me to be."

His hand fell, fingers trailing down F'lix's cheek. Blood...from his nails. He should cut them. F'ur popped a finger into his mouth, sucking it clean without considering the action. "I am trying, F'lix. I didn't think you were so indoctrinated that you wouldn't understand. To me, someone to cover my back isn't a toy. I don't ask that of people I don't like or trust. Can't you just accept that much?" Without sharding breaking out into tears? It was a big step for F'ur as it was, but apparently that wasn't enough.

[rii]

F'lix mind simply halted, his expression slack as he simply stared straight ahead. He thought to rise to his feet and simply wade out across the water; to leave, but his limbs remained locked. What had he done to deserve being.. slapped. Here he had been doing good, keeping his violent urges in check, being neutral–quietly accepting that it was all his fault. His own stupid folly. F'lix remained in that stiffened posture, hearing the words but it would be a moment before he heard any of it.

Of a sudden he whirled on the other, on his knees–straddling over F'ur's lap. The stone ground against bone, but he didn't feel it, just remained there, moving right up into F'ur's face. He didn't touch, but his hands did hover near the lower sides of the man's head. There, in his scowling expression and vibrant eyes was that all too familiar temper.

"This isn't easy for me either, F'ur." The words came out calm, and in his soft growling tone–the pained anger they carried could not be mistaken for anything else. "I'm sorry that I like you, alright? I'm not asking anything from you. I expect nothing. I like you and I can't just stop, but I accept that you can't return those feelings. I'm not fighting you on this. It's nothing new for my origin to be an issue, but those people hate me. I don't have friends, I don't have lovers, I have people who hate me. So I don't know what to think about you. The last person that claimed to like me just wanted to use me as a toy, to see what it took to break me apart. So forgive me or not, but I'm downright paranoid when it comes to people being even mildly nice to me. It would be easier for me to assume you loathe me."

He growled, fingers reflexively curling into his palms with force enough to leave half-moon crescents indented in the skin. He woldn't strike F'ur, even though the man had struck him in such a.. demeaning way. F'lix wasn't angry, really, just wanted F'ur to listen. "I'm not playing a sharding game with you!" He momentarily shut his eyes, tightly as his expression twisted deeply in a scowl before smoothing (albeit slightly) and he resumed glaring. "I do appreciate how far you are willing to come–that you were even willing to teach me!–You've been patient enough, and I know I'm not easy to deal with but–"

F'lix paused, blinking as he drew back, hand rising to smear fingertips through the drops of blood that had welled up on his cheek. He stared at the scarlet stains, running his thumb over the color; almost confused to why the blood was there. "–but it will take me some time to get it sorted out. It's a problem for me, it's my problem and I'll work it out." His eyes narrowed on his fingers, they went back to his cheek to try and feel for the damage dealt. Quiet again, he slid off to the side, swinging his feet around to settle against the ground. The scowl slowly formed back on his features. Stupid, stupid F'lix, he scolded himself, why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut. Just let the matter drop, just walk away, just end it.

[Requiem]

It shouldn't have been surprising that F'ur was caught completely flatfooted. If F'lix was going to react to the abrupt act of violence, it should have been right after it happened. The sudden movement was met with an obvious flinch backwards, F'ur palming the rock at his back and digging his fingers into it to prevent that first impulse, the impulse to neutralize the threat. Bite of hard rock into his fingertips under the strength of his grip. Wide-eyed, nostrils flaring from the shock and the wild animal reaction rushing through his veins - all things that the expression and tones of the younger bluerider did nothing to diminish. He bit into his lip, ducking his chin, but he couldn't quite get himself to look away, dark eyes trapped by F'lix's, even through the veil of lashes.

His foot drifted up defensively, coming to rest against the flat of the rock, not quite touching F'lix with his leg. So he could move back if need. Much too close. Much, much too close, when he could feel the kid's breath. Kid? No, not a kid. If he could just turn aside his face - but F'lix knew, clearly, because his hands were there. Forced into near immobility. Couldn't escape, wouldn't fight, and the strange oddity of helplessness stirred things within him that ranged from rage-mingled fear, to unease, to... He forced his breathing to slow, forced his face back into less revealing planes. Neutrality. But F'lix was more than close enough to see the result of a heart that refused to obey him.

A snarl twisted F'ur's lips at the growl, vanishing swiftly. His fingers dug in more, raw now, using the pain to keep him grounded. The smell of blood so close had odd effects on him. He hissed as the boy brushed against his thigh when he sat back, F'ur's leg falling back to the ground now that even his more bothersome reflexes and instincts had decided the boy didn't represent a threat. Or, rather, that there was little point in worrying about such things now given F'ur had given him every opportunity when he kept himself from reflexively reaching out and snapping the man's neck. His first instinct.

The words themselves didn't really register with F'ur until F'lix had rolled to one side, the majority of the distraction gone. He didn't move, though. Just mulled over the words in silence, feeling his pulse returning to normal, the flood of adrenaline fading from his system and leaving him...weary. That weariness was reflected in the soft, growling words that followed. "Lies." His head remained dipped, and he didn't bother to look at F'lix. "You might believe that...but it's a lie."

What was a lie? He settled onto one elbow, facing the former Bendenite, turning the younger man's face toward him. His thumb brushed over F'lix's cheek, smearing blood from the light scratches, but tracing over the water trail. "If you didn't expect anything - if it would be easier if I loathed you and only cared to use you for my own amusement - then these wouldn't be here, would they?" It was perhaps cruel to call F'lix on that. But F'ur wasn't feeling particularly merciful presently. The man loved to push him, it seemed, push his boundaries, and F'ur wasn't amused.

"I told you to warn me...why don't you listen?" he growled, irritated. He could have easily killed the fomer Bendenite just a moment ago. How many times did he have to say that surprising him wasn't a good idea? His hand fell from F'lix's cheek. So much blood mingling, effecting him almost like a drug. Or maybe it was the moment of emotion-charged helplessness. Either way, he shook his head. "It isn't just your problem." He couldn't get his head on straight.

Part of him was revolted that he'd even consider it. Another part was disgusted that he could be revolted by something so petty. The small part that felt the attraction, however...wasn't quite so small anymore. Fuck it. Just fuck Fort and Benden and all that stupidity. One counted him enemy, the other counted him an insane tool to be used and disposed of when he became inconvenient. Fuck them all. He was Selenitas now, and so was F'lix. There was no sharding conflict.

"I don't care anymore," he muttered. What was the point, putting them both through this up and down garbage? F'ur rolled over onto F'lix, pinning the younger man's wrists, pressing him down. He kissed the carotid, sucking lightly. Pulse. Blood. Life. The bluerider growled softly. "They betrayed us, so why are we still letting them control us?" Him, mostly, but that was neither here nor there. He released F'lix's arms. The kiss that followed was possessive. Pulling back after a moment, he searched F'lix's eyes almost questioningly.