It's a small crime [W'yn]

[rii]

It looks odd to me.

"Quiet you." F'lix growled, not for the first time that evening. Saboth rumbled from where he laid on the warm sands, curled into a loose feline-like ball and being ever so amused by his bonded's grouchy responses. The young bluerider let his irritation flare, freely expressing it in a visible bristling–shoulders hunching, teeth gritting–then it all dropped with one sharp exhale. He felt ridiculous enough without Saboth criticizing his actions.

Absently his fingers twirled the two slender, blackened daggers as he reflected over the motions in his mind's eye. He had been working to alter the style he had watched, right there on the beach, to transform it into something more suited to his edged taste. Not for practical use, hardly, but the flow of motions were meant to help clear his mind, to help get back into the smooth, dance-like movements. Sitting around the Weyr with so little to do aside from play nice, and brood, made him feel overly stiff.. slow.. something he came to realize after a couple of grappling lessons. Selenitas made for lazy riders..

"This is pointless." Even as he demeaned his own actions, F'lix sheathed the daggers–one at his back, the other on thigh–and fell back into a starting stance. Bare feet sunk into the shifting sands. He closed his eyes, slowly expelling any distracting thoughts and began, slowly, to work through the motions. First through the ones he remembered clearly, getting the feel for them; the steps, the sweep of arm, the flare of.. well, it was just a flick of his wrist, he didn't have a fan, nor did he want one–as if he wasn't embarrassed enough already!

He only mimicked the moves a short way into the form before pausing, then stepping back into the beginning stance. Mentally he altered the moves before starting over–this time with a touch more speed, and the motions more sharp and exaggerating the stroke of arm through the air. It all made more sense when he got to a certain point in the form and he drew one of the daggers, the strokes began slashes, a carving through the air itself..

That thought alone make F'lix drop his arms in defeat. It probably didn't look as bad as he imagined, but he had never been one to practice.. without live targets. Without the spill of blood, painted over the pale sands and himself, he couldn't see the beauty in any of it. Oh he could watch someone else do it, and it would be a work of art, but if he himself tried.. the lack of confidence showed. Not a soul around to ridicule him, and still F'lix felt humiliated enough that his golden eyes glanced side-long at the waves rolling up the shore with thoughts of drowning himself.

Not really, but the idea amused him, quirking a smirk onto his lips.

The dagger again found the sheath and F'lix sprawled backwards over one of the many boulders littering the coast line. He folded his arms up over his face to shield against the sun, blocking out the world around him and merely listening to the sound of the waves. Saboth glanced once at his moody rider before boredly using his tail to flick small shells out toward the water.

[lyrath]

W'yn was thoroughly sick of Selenitas. He was unsure of what he had been thinking, leaving Benden for such a pathetic Weyr. It had been his pride though. Losing the Queensflight to an outsider and just watching everything he had believed in crumble little by little. They were catering to the weak now, changing things so life was 'better.' Wyn's lip curled in disgust at the thought. He should've just snapped J'loren's sharding neck when he had the chance.

Selenitas though...it was like walking into some bleeding nursery. He had claimed he was repenting and that all he had done was under C'leon's influence. Truth be told, he felt if he could not win a Flight against such a paltry lot he might just kill himself out of shame. This was torture though. If he had to smile at some simpering idiot one more time he was going to scream.

They should be ashamed of themselves. Weaklings, the lot of them. W'yn had felt his patience wearing thin lately. He'd nearly killed some stupid serving wench the other night when she'd dropped a plate. She'd even tried to laugh about it, smiling at him like they were equals. He'd merely shouted at her to leave though the back of his fist itched. Women like that deserved to know their place.

He'd flown out then on Grinth, needing to get away. The skies were clear and the feel of the wind across his face calmed him a little. Grinth was silent as ever, knowing instinctively where W'yn desired to go. He frowned though as they swooped down towards the beach when Grinth spotted another dragon. Some sickly looking blue with an even scrawnier rider. W’yn exhaled sharply in disgust. Even the sharding beach was not free.

His mind got a sharper view of the bluepair on the beach as Grinth swooped a little closer.

Benden.

It was true. W'yn did not really recognize the bluerider. He rarely deigned to speak with younger riders, especially blues or greens. However, he just knew the boy was from Benden. Probably some simpering weakling who couldn't cut it and went crying to Selenitas like the rest.

He was short and small and just begged for...

Grinth swooped down and landed with a thud on the beach, kicking up a cloud of sand. W'yn vaulted off his back smoothly, loosening the straps of his staff casually. He smiled ferally at the other rider. "Nice day, isn't it?"

[rii]

The image of a bronze flying over head entered his mind and F'lix stiffened against the rock. Silently he hoped it wouldn't land, but the heavy thud shaking the beach brought a sneer out of the bluerider. With a resigned sigh, F'lix sat up on the rock, one leg hanging loosely over the edge while the other knee bent to keep his foot firm against the boulder. Saboth gave a low rumble, his tail sliding across the sands as he warily eyed the bronzepair.

Golden eyes glance toward the blue before returning to W'yn, unconcerned. F'lix remembered the bronzer, and his reputation at Benden–not a subtle one, that man. Of course, none of the men there had been discrete about their savage nature. F'lix had been little different, though not as brutish as others, he had still spoken the same language: Violence. So it came as little surprise that F'lix returned the smile, his own more mocking than wild. His eyes slitted, feeling decidedly pleased by W'yn's arrival.

"I think it just got better," F'lix tone was light, and nearly purred at the older man–purposely flirting with something dangerous, a part of him wanted to irritate the bronzer. Toes, of the stretched leg, dug into the sand beside the boulder. All together F'lix looked perfectly at ease, leaning back on palms and regarding W'yn with interest.

Hn, F'lix had been in need of a reminder to not trust people. That beyond people's polite exterior, beyond the skin of their farce, was that inner nature–the greed, savage, lustful and violent. And if F'lix was reading the body language correctly, pairing it with his past knowledge of the bronzer, the man was looking to inflict pain of something–anything. No reason needed. The bluerider always seemed to attract that attention.. and none of them seemed to acknowledge he was not as harmless as he appeared. Ego tended to do that.

All the better.

"You've been keeping a low profile, W'yn." No need for the other to even bother trying to play nice. F'lix hardly believed that Selenitas would have calm down a man like him, not when he smiled like that. Never trust a smiling man. "Or are you just getting soft?"

[lyrath]

W'yn felt a stab of disgust at the suggestive tone of F'lix's voice. Shards, this one probably liked men too. Disgusting. Behind him, Grinth stretched his wings before taking back off into the sky to circle around.

No one nearby. Good.

"You've got me at a disadvantage," W'yn said. He wasn't sure exactly why. Perhaps it was the months of pretending and holding himself back, but the desire to hurt the bluerider in front of him was overwhelming. He could practically taste blood.

He tried to remember, the younger man he seemed familiar but W'yn couldn't possibly see how this person would have been of any importance. He knew who W'yn was though and from the almost provoking tone, the boy was asking for it. W'yn flexed his left hand, hearing the knuckles crack. W'yn had never really liked blueriders. They were almost as pathetic as greens.

His eyes flickered to the dragon lying in the sands behind F'lix. He was almost twice the size of other rider and even if the sharded dragon tried to interfere, Grinth would be able to take care of it. "Soft? Coming from you?" the words had a dangerous tinge as he took a step closer, in range now to strike with his staff if he so chose. "What's your name?"

He waited almost a second before he swung his left hand. The backhand seemed lazy but there was enough force in it to knock F'lix's head to the side, leaving faint red marks from the metal clad knuckles. "Since you seem to know me so well."

[rii]

F'lix arched a slender brow at the approaching man, smile still in place. At first he had no intentions of letting W'yn get too close. He was a big man–had a superior strength, reach.. and the staff only added to that range. A morbid curiosity made him remain lax against the rock, foot still in the sand, and he didn't move if only to see how close the bronzer would get before striking.

Reflexively, F'lix pulled back, elbows bending to move himself away from the blow, but only just. He didn't counter, only avoided the hit to the head–having a recent fracture to the skull was incentive enough to dodge instead of stubbornly taking the abuse. F'lix didn't fear pain, and he would have likely put up with it, if not for the injury. W'yn obviously seemed bent on hurting someone, and well.. F'lix would rather it be him than someone else. At least it didn't bother him, could almost enjoy it in fact.

Golden eyes flickered with amusement and the smile took on a more feral touch; challenging. He had expected more, almost insulting that all W'yn spared him was a backhand more fit to a woman. "I'm so honored, W'yn." The words dripping with sarcasm. "You want to know my name."

Not at all surprised about not being remembered. F'lix preferred it that way, as most people didn't know how many lives he had taken during his time back at Benden. Mostly of those of fellow comrades, rather than the enemy. If C'leon didn't kill the men himself, he liked to still remove those that had the potential to grow into an threat. And who better to deal with such people but a disposable bluerider. A tool, and well aware of this, F'lix had preferred being in the shadows and unacknowledged. People over looked him, and deemed him harmless. That, and he had been property of Ja'kin–also a bronzer, a man eight turns F'lix's elder; and one to be feared. That man was too smart, and viscous, for his own good. He took great pleasure in the torture and time it took to completely break a person. Enjoyed practicing his craft on the young weyrlings as a pastime. Ja'kin tended to be very possessive over his current choice of playthings. He never openly claimed anything, and discreetly kept his activities out of public view, but he did make a point of turning his 'attention' to anyone that marred his toys more than necessary.

It was flattering; in a strange, twisted way.

Kicking his foot up, F'lix send a wave of fine sand up toward W'yn's face. At the same time sliding forward off the rock to–not put distance between them, but to close it. Not touching the other, but F'lix got in close enough to make any straight man uncomfortable. And F'lix slide right into that personal space with a feline's ease and comfort. He had played this game many times, but W'yn was really a tall man. Too tall. Sort of took the fun out of it. One hand hung loose at his side, dagger had been drawn during his move, but he kept the blade flipped back and pressed to the inside of his wrist to keep it out of sight. Besides, the distraction went more to his other hand, which had reached forward, fingers trailing down the end of the staff jutting out from the side of W'yn's back. F'lix had chosen to move forward so the staff didn't have the reach or proper swing on him.

"I'm sure you can think of a suitable name for me."

[lyrath]

Something about the other man's tone just made W'yn's hackles rise. He almost went to hit him again but at that moment, F'lix had kicked up the sand. Uttering a curse, W'yn shielded his face and tried to move backwards a step or two, but the sharding boy was fast and kept on him.

"Dead men don't need names," W'yn snarled, annoyed that his guard had been so lax. He pushing at F'lix's arm to get his hand off his weapon, and pushed back half a step on one foot, sliding the staff out with one hand and swinging it in an arc. It was a sloppy move and easily dodged but earned W'yn some space.

Someone had once questioned W'yn's choice of weapons, claiming that staves were for squeamish weaklings who couldn't stand the sight of an open wound. W'yn had laughed later when that person had lain on the ground with his bones shattered, begging for a blade to end his agony. It was not practical weapon in short really for dragon riding or in general but he had compensated for the weapon in hand-to-hand combat. Most people didn't realize that W'yn hit harder with his left fist than he ever would with his right and not just because of the iron plate on his glove. He generally attacked with the staff and anyone who got past that was met with a fist to the face.

The boy was fast, W'yn gave him that. Speed was not really something W'yn was good at. He was also...mildly surprised at the retaliation. Usually people of F'lix's size started begging. "You're Benden born, aren't you? I bet you're dying for a taste of real blood," W'yn said, regaining a pinch of composure. He swept the staff in an arc, trying to gauge the other's reaction.

If nothing else, the anticipation of a fight had the blood singing in W'yn's veins. This was the kind of thing he relished.

[rii]

Tsk, not even a nick name.

F'lix smiled as his touch left the staff, and he made a step of his own, moving backwards to avoid getting hit. Part of him wanted to move with W'yn, step for step, aggravate the man into using his hands. The younger didn't know much about guarding against W'yn's particular choice in weapon–though it made his mind momentarily skip back to a memory, stored with all those other ones he was desperately trying to erase. Perhaps he would look into learning that art.. maybe he could find a new teacher.. His golden eyes narrowed, curiously scrutinizing W'yn. Yes, he would watch this one, and learn.

"You and I both know no one is going to die here," F'lix flipped the dagger around, letting it be seen as his gaze dropped, admiring the sharp edge; the finish a dark shade so as to not reflect any light. It slid quietly back into the sheath on his thigh. "Selenitas doesn't stomach violence well, let alone one rider killing another."

His eyes flickered with something, anger perhaps, at W'yn's words. Yes. Benden. Wasn't it just so terrible that F'lix had been born and raised there? Nearly everyone thought that, how convenient they shunned him for something he had no power over; spit it at F'lix–but W'yn didn't. No, a fellow Bendenite. Not former, because no matter what they would always be from Benden. It had been silly of F'lix to think he could shed such things, be something other than what the brutal northerner Weyr had bred into him.

As for the taste of blood..

F'lix waited for the staff to pass by before moving forward, not in a quick fashion–merely approaching W'yn with steps light over the pale sands. No, the young bluerider did not respond in a typical fashion to violence, and he didn't heed to threats or pain. It helped that he could barely register pain until it became something utterly incapable of ignoring. Benden had numbed him to such things. He did want to taste blood, to see it on the sands, even if it would likely be his own.

With that half-crazed look in his eyes, he closed in on the large man–a very comical sight really, the difference in their builds and the fact F'lix went right into the other's hands unarmed. One would have to wonder if he had a death wish..

[lyrath]

"Yes, Selenitas would cry if their precious home were tarnished with blood," W'yn sneered, masking any surprise he felt at the display of the dagger. He hadn't noticed that. "Were you one of them, then? The pathetic whiners that went crying to Selenitas because Benden was so big and scary?" There was a cold fury under W'yn's words. Anytime he met someone from Benden here it was the same story.

He narrowed his eyes as F'lix advanced, wondering if the boy had a death wish. Swinging his staff back sharply, the smaller man simply avoided the second blow, not stopping his assault. Stupid, W'yn decided then. Stupid or insane, or both. It didn't matter though, W'yn knew what he wanted and he was going to get it one way or another.


W'yn let the staff drop as F'lix got closer, then darted forward to grab the smaller man by the front of his shirt. He lifted the bluerider up off the ground with just his right arm, jerking him forward so that their faces were inches apart. "You know me so well, don't you? I guess you must just be dying for it." W'yn threw him to the ground then, drawing up his boot to kick F'lix in the side. "The quiet eats at you doesn'it? You think you want the peace...that you're different from us. But deep down, you can't hide who you are."

He wasn't sure what he was doing now. W'yn was just overcome with the urge to push the younger man until something snapped. He could smell a fight and that was just the thing that W'yn needed. If nothing else, beating him black and blue should alleviate some of the built up frustration.

[rii]

The grin only seemed to grow more.. pleased; that wild cheshire-like smile that found amusement in the most oddest of things. F'lix did not fight like this, no, but he did play in this fashion. W'yn needed someone to vent upon and F'lix.. well, he just wanted pain; violence–it could mean so many different things to him. His eyes trailed up the man's impressive height, "Yes, Benden is so big and scary."

F'lix expression waned, taking on a more serious hue when W'yn lifted him from the ground. His own hands curled over W'yn's right one to keep the fabric of his shirt from tightening around his neck. Although the man would probably like that–probably got a kick about of those that squirmed and pleaded. If F'lix did that, it would be too easy, and he liked to present himself as a challenge.

Upon meeting the sand, F'lix quickly rolled to the side as the foot connected with his ribs–the bluerider taking the hit, but moving with the blow enough to lesson the damage. He had been playing this game for a long time, knew how to avoid taking a full hit. Broken ribs were too much trouble to nurse, interfered with too many activities. Before W'yn could fully pull his leg away, metal slice through the air in an upward track to skim along the man's calf. Not aimed to damage–more of a twisted exchange of benden pleasantries.

He rolled up onto the balls of his feet, remaining crouched. The dagger rose to face level as F'lix eyed the smear of blood on his fingers. With golden eyes flicking back to W'yn, F'lix sucked the red stain off the side of his finger. "Everyone is like us, we just don't bother trying to hide that people are little more than savage beasts. The truth is an ugly thing."

The dagger went back into the sheath, blood and all, F'lix would clean it later. He always took good care of his blades. Fingers curled in the sand and he slowly sifted it between his two hands, the grin working back up on his angled features. "I thought Selenitas was only getting a bunch of bendenites that couldn't stomach violence. And yeah, I know you well enough W'yn, you were slowly inching you way up C'leon's list." The bluerider slid his thumb across his throat in a universal gesture. Not that C'leon had an actual list, but sooner or later the man could be viewed as a threat. The best people to keep around were those that could be controlled.

"But why the shards did you come here?"

[lyrath]

The pain as the blade knicked his leg was almost pleasant. How long had it been since W'yn had been in a true fight? He hadn't bloodied anyone outside of the occasional whore recently. They never fought back either, just screamed and cried. Pain would keep his mind fresh. His lips twisted in mild disgust as he watched F'lix suck his finger. "You're just a complete twisted freak, aren't you?"

At the comment about C'leon, W'yn felt a sharp stab of anger. He didn't like the implications. He almost went to kick the other rider again, but instead used his foot to kick his staff into the air to catch. "I'm supposed to believe you knew anything about what C'leon wanted?" W'yn sneered.

It was a bit of a sore spot with him. He had admired C'leon's drive, his ferocity, yet never managed to make it to his inner circle. The idea that this...weakling had was annoying. It had to be a lie.

"Why? A change of scenery," W'yn said, moving forward and crouching before F'lix. His voice took on a mocking tone, "I felt terrible for all those horrid things I did while C'leon led Benden. I even," W'yn gave a horrified gasp, "hurt people."

He leaned forward then and grasped F'lix face in his left hand, "Can you imagine that horror?"

[rii]

F'lix couldn't help but to laugh. It started as a muffled noise in the back of his throat but worked it's way out as a soft chuckle, then a full throated laugh. W'yn was calling him a freak. So much for being from the same Weyr. Nothing wrong with a little taste of blood but oh–that slitted-eye smile returned; could practically see the tail playfully flicking back and forth behind the bluerider–this bronzer was so easy to rile up.

Although F'lix knew if he didn't start keeping his tongue withheld behind teeth, he was going to earn himself more than a few bruises. Alright. Fine then. F'lix casually rolled his shoulders as he watched W'yn. Perhaps he was being a bit too eager to get himself hurt. Pain just seemed like a good way to forget. At least W'yn hated him, and only wanted to hurt him–it made sense. Perfect understanding, and F'lix wouldn't tattle on the other having to vent some pent up aggression. It didn't bother F'lix, and no one cared–he wasn't being self-demeaning, it was just the truth. Whatever came of this, it would be due to his own choices. He accepted the consequences.

"Everyone knew what C'leon wanted, and we were but his tools to achieve his goals." He had no personal loyalty toward the man, but W'yn's words struck F'lix as a bit odd. They sounded a bit too personal in regards toward the former Benden Weyrleader. Who cared to really know what C'leon wanted? It had all been an existence of Listen, or die. C'leons way, or a quick, brutal removal of life.

F'lix had the strange desire to roll over on the sands and stretch out on his back just to further mock W'yn; in his own bizarre fashion. Just smile and swat up at the large man–the image brought a wry smile out of F'lix. Hyne, he really had gotten his head knocked around a few too many times. He was just so oddly content at the moment. Probably kick himself later for it. Wonder why he was so twisted..

"But C'leon is dead. Benden is dead. There's no place in Pern for people like you," His head canted to one side, amusement flaring up in those golden eyes. "Or people like me." F'lix eyes gave a slight narrow of suspicion when W'yn came down to his level. The action piqued F'lix curiosity–what did this man have in mind. "Hurt people? You? That is terrible. You're a monster, W'yn."

F'lix leaned forward as his chin was grabbed, bracing his stance with a hand to the shifting ground. He tilted his face up toward the other man, letting the underside of his neck extend in a full show of open vulnerability. It would be so easy to open up his throat right then, or smash his windpipe, and F'lix knew this. He enjoyed laying down the bait and seeing what reactions it would produce. One day F'lix would get himself killed, he really would. But he felt confident enough in his assumption that W'yn wanted to play. If the man had wanted to kill, they wouldn't be there crouched in front of each other as they were. It was just a game.

"You poor thing. Suffered so much. A shame you had to live there so long.." He raised his own hand, in a casual motion to show it was unarmed and not moving to strike. He gently ran his fingers, starting at the base of the glove and running up the vein on the inside of W'yn's wrist and arm.

[lyrath]

There was truth in F'lix's words. Truth that bothered W'yn, but there was a part of him that was curious about the rider before him. Weak and small, possibly completely insane, but they spoke a similar language. He was the truest Benden W'yn had met, unlike the other pathetic whiners.

C'leon's death and J'loren had left the natives homeless without direction. Learn to play the new tune or face the consequences. W'yn was too old to learn new tricks. It was irritating at times, but he would find a way to take over Selenitas.

He almost thought about letting the rider go, despite whatever annoyances. Perhaps another couple of bruises just so he didn't think W'yn had gone too soft. He loosened his grip slightly. Then F'lix touched him and W'yn felt that disgust rise back up within him like bile.

It wasn't the touch itself, but the way the rider touched him, like a caress. W'yn dropped the staff and grabbed ahold of the offending fingers with his freed hand. How dare this bluerider touch him like that. "What do you think you're doing?" W'yn snarled, dragging F'lix's hand off his arm, his grip like a vice.

He shoved the younger man back, twisting his arm behind him so that F'lix's chest was pressed into the sand, with W'yn's knee pressing against the small of his back. The disgust he had felt earlier for F'lix was back in spades. Tightning his grip, W'yn snapped back the ring finger, hearing a resounding crack. He let the hand fall then stood up, pushing F'lix over roughly with his boot. "I am a monster," W'yn spat, picking his staff back up. "You'd best remember that before I break more than a finger."

He swung the staff at F'lix's body, not caring whether or not it hit him, just wanting to hit something.

[rii]

Being shoved face down into the sand, and having a man of W'yn's temper behind him–the knee digging into his back–it made F'lix tense up. A brief flicker of fear crossing his eyes, the emotion followed by a firm scolding and a venomous narrow of golden eyes on the beach. His arm gave an involuntary spasm at the powerful sensation running up his nerves. Pain. F'lix only felt a diluted trickle of the damage done–and part of him felt relieved that a broken finger had been W'yn's only intention.

F'lix complied with the push of boot, rolling over onto his side while he quickly snaked his hand protectively to his chest. His other hand forced the askew digit back into the alignment. Not a single cry of pain as bones shifted, but the smile was no longer present, a more apathetic expression falling over his features. He had gotten an answer to his unvoiced question; one concerning control.

A foot came up to intersect the swinging staff, not to completely halt the arc, but to advert its path enough to pass harmlessly over his body. His injured hand came forward, curling his good fingers around the wood to stall a counter swing. His other had passed over his thigh, blade in hand and point moving to drive into W'yn's hand–to pierce in through the palm so the man either had to take the damage, or relinquish the weapon.

It really was a pain, not his hand, but being at Selenitas. F'lix still did not do well when it came to sparing.. because he seemed utterly incapable of avoiding taking damage. A strange series of habits ingrained in him over the years. Something where he felt he had to take the hits, or else the attacker would get further upset and do more than just hit him or break fingers. He should have just defended himself from the beginning. But.. F'lix brand of defense involved neutralizing his attacker. This is why being at Selenitas was a pain for him, because he didn't know how to do that.. aside from kill the man, or seriously maiming him..

[lyrath]

W'yn had carved the staff himself from the trunk of a large ironwood tree back at Benden. He'd had the smiths fit the steel tips onto it and had spent ages perfecting the weapon. He'd met a trader guard in Bitra ages ago that had shown him the weapon when he was a teenager and had since spent ages practicing it.

When F'lix grabbed at the staff, W'yn growled and tightened his grip, noticing the dagger arcing toward his hand. He attempted to pull it back, but surprisingly the bluerider's grip was stronger than he expected. The point of the dagger sunk into his hand about a quarter inch before W'yn grabbed at F'lix's wrist with his free hand stopping it.

That didn't stop the bluerider however from twisting the blade viciously. W'yn practically snarled, ripping the dagger from his hand and jerking the staff back into his grasp.

"You're dead!" W'yn growled, and drove his foot hard into F'lix's stomach with one foot. He would've kicked him again but Grinth's concern for His being poked full of more holes cut through the haze of rage that was fogging W'yn's judgment. He he danced back a few steps, wincing at the pain in his hand that was steadily streaming blood, staining the sands under him red. He tried to ignore the pain, focusing instead on breathing steadily. He simply tightened his grip on the staff, afraid that if he let go he'd be unable to pick it up again.

As much as kicking F'lix repeatedly in the side until he coughed up blood appealed to W'yn, the man was armed and the angle made it hard to defend against those tiny sharding daggers. "Get up."

[rii]

Yes, as soon as his dagger bit into flesh, F'lix twisted the metal as far as he could before natural instinct made the large man jerk away from the pain. Similar to the way F'lix reflexively curled against the kick, moving enough to take the blow against the hard point of his hip rather than the soft tissue of his abdomen. It would bruise.. but risking a broken bone was better than rupturing an organ.

The dagger came around, intent on finding W'yn's Achilles tendon if he kicked again.. but perhaps the man sensed this, because he dance away out of reach. F'lix quickly flipped around, remaining low on knee and one foot, simply eyeing the brute. A smirk quirked at his lips. W'yn sounded quite.. serious about the simple threat. And F'lix thought he himself had an easily sparked temper. Everyone must have their igniters; pain wasn't one of F'lix's, but for W'yn it may as well be. "Just a little cut, a bit of pain, have you forgotten what it's like to bleed?"

Golden eyes followed the red rivets slowly working down the length of the staff, a rather pleasing sight, in F'lix's opinion. The blade was flipped around, the dull edge pressing back into his wrist as he slowly rose back to his feet. As the sand sifted off his pants and shirt, F'lix idly noted the soreness in spot where W'yn's boot had connected. "Maybe you've been growing a bit too use to people who don't fight back."

As often enough, people did pick a fight with him for his rather.. harmless demeanor. Not that F'lix really fought back; more of an exchange of blows with him. W'yn had broken his finger, after all, and F'lix reserved the right to return the damage–to make it even. A pierced palm hardly equaled a snapped finger, but since it aggravated W'yn in such a manner, F'lix felt it balanced out things well enough.

Slowly, as his rider casually circled to the left, Saboth had been edging toward the two Bendenites. It was a subtle enough motion.. for a big blue lump.. and he continued to cast wary glances up toward the bronze circling high above. The other dragon made him nervous, but.. the blue just wanted to make the two humans stop fighting. He was tired of his getting hurt. They left Benden so His wouldn't get hurt anymore! This wasn't Benden!

"Well?" F'lix kicked his barefoot forward, sending more sand up at the brute. It may have been childish, but F'lix knew he didn't have much of an advantage against W'yn's size, strength, reach.. and the fact that F'lix wouldn't kill him. Even if the man stood there and promised him death, F'lix had felt no desire to take his life. Annoying, F'lix could do annoying though.. another kick of sand followed that thought. Then a large wave of sand hit them both, the source being from a sweep from Saboth's tail. Foolishly dropping his guard, F'lix turned his head to glare in the direction of his dragon.