Thinking it's a sign.. [ M'ta ]

[Requiem]

The brownrider's eyebrow rose, face twitching into an expression that was queer enough to be nearly unreadable. His voice came flatly. "Cover up the disappearance of dragonriders? Of former weyrleaders?" Clearly ridiculous. All the dragons knew when another Betweened. "More likely, if it isn't natural, the plague was introduced to keep us busy with all the sick. We're undermanned. Weak. The Weyrleader's dead, the infirmary staff is stripped. Riders are sick. The dead count is rising. Pandemonium. Confusion. No one's had any time to really investigate the disappearances... We have no idea why, who... and I wouldn't rule out an attack while everything still is in confusion, even by someone not behind either event."

Yes...he was insanely paranoid. Enough that it was probably laughable, but the problem was M'ta's reasoning wasn't entirely unreasonable, even if you did laugh him off. And right now that selfsame paranoia was distracting him from the topic of P.M.S., who had notably vacated M'ta, scampering up high into the branches of the nearby tree. His eyes were tainted a worried orange, and he flattened himself against the wood.

The brownrider himself relaxed visibly, apparently dismissing whatever had originally caught his attention. Turning back towards F'lix, something flew from behind the bluerider, whistling by M'ta and opening up the man's arm just below the bicep. His eyes snapped to F'lix, the brownrider stiffening. "I'm close, aren't I?" he hissed then, eyes narrowing, his lips quirking into a half-smile that was distinctly feral. "Too bad your aim is so off. I'm not anything like T'rid."

Both blades on his hips leapt into his hands, clearing the sheaths before the sound even traveled the small distance between the two riders. He burst forward from a standstill. Kill or be killed was a law he understood better than most anyone, and that knowledge was reflected in the grim smile that didn't reach his eyes. His right arm came from F'lix's left side in a vertical slash for the man's face...anything from the weak side and near eye level almost always caught people's attention. Meanwhile, M'ta crouched low, the second, shorter dirk coming in low and headed straight for F'lix's gut.

[rii]

"I think you're over–"

The whistling of a blade – F'lix reflexively shifted sideways to present a smaller target–better to take a piercing wound to an arm then the chest. It passed, but instead of looking to where it flew, F'lix tried to peer in the direction it had come. Who–he didn't have time to wonder. M'ta had drawn blades and was already coming at him with that look in his eyes; prepared to kill. F'lix glare iced over. He knew he shouldn't have placed any sort of trust in the brownrider. Give people the slightest leeway and they always disappointed him.

So it was all some sort or ruse? Lure him away from the river, into an ambush in the trees where Saboth couldn't help? Pathetic.

As fights usually happen where blades were involved, F'lix didn't have time to draw his own before he was being attacked. He still reacted without a moment's hesitation. The bluerider stepped into the attack with his right foot, dropping the sheath he held in favor of both hands moving simultaneously to counter each of M'ta's attacks. He caught the left arm against his neck and shoulder (having stepped in past the blade) His own left arm snaked around the brownrider's to temporarily prevent the youth from bending the elbow by putting pressure against the joint, and also jarring it enough to not let the dagger slide back into his neck–the high collar of his riding leathers would only protect so much. The right shot down to catch M'ta's forearm just above the wrist, putting a bit of weight into the block and altering the course to open a gap to M'ta's body–enough for a slender one like F'lix to act upon. The instant his hands touched M'ta, F'lix brought his left knee forward toward the brownrider's face–the other's crouched position making it an easy aim.

Not waiting to see if the blow would incapacitate, F'lix brought that same left leg down to step wide to the side--left hand sliding back to seize around wrist near his neck and bring the other's arm along for the move. The right arm was released, hand snapping over to seize the left's elbow as F'lix ducked under the limb, twisting it behind M'ta's back then applying pressure. A move once used on him; that Fortian proved to be a rather interesting teacher–among other things.

But M'ta was not his only concern. Someone else had thrown the knife. Reaching with his right, F'lix took one of the blades from the brownriders open, extensive collection and he pulled back, silver point ready to drive down into M'ta's neck–he really should too. Practical to eliminate one threat before moving on to the next, but part of him whispered a hesitation, made him pause then change plans. Instead he threw the knife in the direction in which he judged a second attacker to be. Around them the sound of trees snapping filled the jungle, Saboth–eyes blood red against his blue hide–was attempting to dig his way through the thick foliage to reach them. His deep bellow alerted any of those nearby; the dragon a bit too furious to make the message into words.

The words M'ta had spoken shortly before attacking only now registered in F'lix head and he released the arm, but didn't back off–the brownrider would have the upper hand if they were at a distance. "M'ta, I didn't throw anything. I'm not—the disappearances—It's not me. Someone else is–" How do you explain in the middle of a fight that you were not an enemy?

[ ooc: let me know if it's too much ]

[Requiem]

He was excellent at knife play. There was really no arguing that, just taking into account pure survivability. But M'ta had absolutely no formal training in hand-to-hand and the lack showed. (Admittedly, he was pulling up his speed a tad, but that didn't necessarily mean F'lix would have had much more trouble.) The brownrider knew he'd made a mistake - perhaps a deadly one - almost instantly. But there wasn't time to worry about it or chastise himself...merely react. The hands immobilized his arms, holding him in place so that he couldn't dodge the knee coming for him.

His reactions were quick, however, and he arched his back, turning his head to one side. The knee clipping the side of his face and catching part of his ear still managed to smart enough to bring water to his eyes, but at least he wasn't gushing blood from a broken nose or split lip. M'ta instinctively stepped inward, pressing his side against F'lix's stomach to give him no more room to manuever those legs. It would have been more effective if the bluerider hadn't released his wrist to twist his other arm behind him, however, as the close proximity only made it easier for the Bendenite.

M'ta was forced to one knee with a growl. It was unfortunate. The brownrider had overestimated his own ability, and F'lix was too much of a threat when fully engaged for him to avoid doing serious damage as he'd first intended. Behruth wasn't going to be happy. The show was meant for their unseen attacker, in the event that there was more than one, but it was decidedly not a show with him pinned and F'lix drawing one of his blades. The brownrider was fully ready to break his own arm...better that than death. He doubted he could survive another slit throat. The dirk in his freehand shifted to a dagger position, poised to plunge deep into F'lix's thigh to stop the downward plunge of M'ta's own knife...when the bluerider whipped it at the trees.

Then his arm was free. Those two actions were the only things that saved F'lix from taking a knife to the leg. He palmed the ground immediately while the bluerider was still trying to explain (impressed despite himself with the other man, but unable to express it by anything more than the determination not to hurt F'lix if he could help it) and spun into a low spin kick that connected solidly with the bluerider's ankles. "Not a fool," he snarled, launching himself on top of F'lix, his knee planting firmly in the man's gut. He leaned close, deliberately leaving his chest open for the bluerider, the pose clearly one that gave the impression he planned to finish F'lix. His words came swiftly beneath his breath. "I know. But as long as we're at each other's throats, they won't feel the need to attack. Not sure how many."

Hopefully P.M.S. would remain focused enough to discover that for him.

[rii]

Once deciding not to kill M'ta, F'lix ability to fight the other diminished. He really meant what he said about not being the sparring type–that required pretending to want to kill someone. The bluerider either killed–and did it quickly, or maybe even set out to purposely maim–or he didn't; especially when it came to people. 'Accidentally' killing a flit could be over-looked, but a person? Not a chance. So it came as little surprise that F'lix didn't counter when the foot caught against ankles. He fell back, catching himself with a hand planted firmly against the ground–a position he quickly abandoned as M'ta's came at him. Both hands flew up to catch each of M'ta's forearms–control the weapons–and with the other's weight pressing down, F'lix roughly met the dirt with his back while emitting a short, low growl.

"M'ta st–umphh–" F'lix gritted his teeth against the sudden impact against his stomach that forced the air from his lungs to gush out in a strangled cough. And–what?–what? Golden eyes flickered with ire, jaw firming to hold back his tongue. The colorful curses that flew his mind very clear on his expression. M'ta knew? Snarl. Oh he and the brownrider would need to have a little talk later. For the meantime, F'lix kept hold of M'ta's arms, making a show of a struggle but his gaze had drifted, looking far away. Saboth, he had to make the blue stop.

Stop. An outraged bellow was the blue's response, but the blue did back away from his splintered path. Nearly there. Saboth argued, but felt the disapproval from his bonded's mind. A deep rumbling vibrated through his core before he jumped back then sprung into the air. Angrily he swept his wings to hover over the canopy. Find them. Kill them. Yet his mindmate wanted him to stop trying to help. Saboth didn't want to leave–why was His sending him away? ..Maybe he could squeeze in through the trees from above.. Then what? Be unable to fly back out? Rip a wing while trying to land? Just be ready to get someone in case this goes.. badly. I still don't know what is going on–he could be playing some game still. I don't want to stir up the Weyr over a prank. Stubborn is Mine. Never backs down. You'll get hurt, you always get hurt. Saboth skimmed in tight circles over the treetops, peering down to try and spot anyone besides the tangled pair.

The conversation was over in a few seconds, F'lix eyes focused back in on M'ta's face. Hm, so the other wanted to stall matters. Fine, but when the time came to deal with any outsiders, F'lix wanted to be on his feet. Hips and torso twisted sideways, forcing M'ta's knee to slide off–placing M'ta to the side of him instead of over. F'lix released his grip, flipped the rest of the way over and quickly slipped backwards to get away from the brownrider. A darkened blade appeared in his right hand, tucked close along the inside of his forearm, all before he rocked back, crouched low on his heels.. giving M'ta a brief second to rise.. before closing the distance again.

"You're mad–fever finally get to you?" F'lix hated dueling.

A blur of motion that came as a upward slash, angling from right hip to left shoulder–quickly changing motion, pulling his blade back across in a horizontal slash at M'ta's throat. All the while F'lix kept only his side facing M'ta, his empty left hand folded close to his chest, ready to respond in defense. Little knew that F'lix actually was left handed. He was ambidextrous enough to use both, but he often led attacks with his right, preferring to stack his strengths to guard himself..

[Requiem]

Grabbing the wrists again? M'ta was glad...though it was unlikely to show...that he'd told F'lix, because the rider simply fought different than M'ta would. Definitely not trained on the streets. The brownrider didn't break the grips immediately, though it would have been simple enough, not wanting to distract F'lix from whatever it was the man was doing. That vacant look was familiar now after five turns at Selenitas.

Slipping off the bluerider, he rose slowly, one blade twirling in a lazy circle that almost managed to mask the fact that it had a purpose behind it aside from looking pretty. Both dirk and long dagger back into a standard grip now, he watched F'lix through slitted eyes, stance sliding slightly wider with his left taking the majority of his weight.

Before he'd fully shifted, F'lix was pressing forward, M'ta moving nothing but his left hand. A flick of the wrist deflected the blade just enough outward to leave nothing but a shallow line of blood in a diagonal from hip to shoulder. He skipped backward form the horizontal slash, seeming to retreat...but it was really only one step back, his leg coming around sharply in a spin kick that would seem to be meant to shatter F'lix's wrist...though in this instance it was the hilt of the blade he was aiming for, right above F'lix's grip.

M'ta slid slightly, digging in his heels to stop the momentum, and swiftly changed directions, darting in fast and low with a vicious slash at the bluerider's knees from his left hand. It was actually something of a compliment from the brownrider that he didn't pull the slash any; from the measure taken of F'lix so far, he trusted the bluerider would be fine.

[rii]

Blood. F'lix narrowed his eyes, annoyed that M'ta had allowed the attack to connect. And yes, he fully assumed the brownrider did it to make the fight seem genuine. A nick to the arm would have done just as well. It still irritated F'lix. He didn't want to weaken his ally (Albeit he was still suspicious of the other) before a real fight. And if their sparring fooled anyone, F'lix would laugh.

His first instinct to the kick–and it showed–was to point the edge of the blade at the oncoming foot to give him a nasty reward for the blow. Instead, at the last moment, F'lix altered the angle and his wrist so the kick brush just underside; dagger dragging lightly over boot. The little moments of hesitation, of changing one's reflexes, fueled his annoyance. Those were the type of things that got a man killed. It required too much of a fighter's mind, slowed reactions. And M'ta proved to be a quick one–F'lix never thought less of the other.

Again he stepped into the move instead of dodging. First with his left to catch against M'ta's outer forearm–stopping the blow before it could even get mid-swing. It stung, a dull sensation to his nerves and only noted in the back of his thoughts were the rest of pain recognition went. The rest of F'lix motions flowed without pause. His body came in around M'ta's side and back with a sweeping right step. His own left arm snaking down and around M'ta's stalled arm in a similar locking move he had done in their first exchange. His right, with the blade, came around in a wider than normal arc, sharp tip plunging directly for the junction of M'ta's throat and chest–if it didn't get blocked, well.. F'lix would be disappointed.

Mad more than anything else, but still, maybe just tiny bit sad.

He arched the shorter male back against him by stepping in with his right, using the side of his hip to press into M'ta's back. His lids lowered so it appeared as if he was glaring down at M'ta, but really he was peering at the surroundings through his lashes. F'lix jerked them in a one-sided struggle, changing the angle every so often to scout for onlookers. As he moved his grip became loose, and only from the outside it even look as if he was really even holding onto the brownrider any more.

He had his face close, nearly pressing into the back of M'ta's head to mask the sight of him talking–or rather, lowly growling at the younger. "I can't dance, and I don't do foreplay." His description of circling each other with blades and exchanging nicks and cuts. F'lix hoped it was becoming clear he couldn't fake it. A true fight would have ended already, they couldn't drag it on long before whoever had spurred the confrontation noticed. "You're pest find anyone yet?" Yes, F'lix had noticed the creature not screaming insults at him, threatening him to die, so assumingly it was being put to actual use. "Saboth can pick us up at the river."

[Requiem]

Okay, that was irritating. The growl that left his throat wasn't even feigned. F'lix liked to put people in holds, now didn't he? But the hold was of less concern than the blade plunging downward. His dirk came up before his chest, catching the falling blade with a hiss of metal on metal. He kept the up and out movement, pushing the blade away and circling his arm around F'lix's at the elbow. Fine. If they were going to hold onto each other, he was claiming an arm too. Of course...now they were kind of in lockstep. How...delightful...

Then the hip was pressing against him and M'ta remembered why he usually didn't bother with holds. (Aside from the necessity of actually touching someone, which was faintly distasteful if you didn't know them, and more than just a little distasteful when it was a stranger out for your blood.) The brownrider was solid for his height, but he still wasn't very heavy, and with the leverage of the hip he found himself on tiptoe, more or less helpless. A brief surge of panic caused him to writhe...before he clamped down on it. No, he didn't know F'lix, but even if he had it wouldn't have changed anything. Fear wasn't allowed in fights, though, had never been, and he managed to batten down the gut reaction long enough to think rationally.

Sharding bluerider. The talking was not helping. He was able to somehow keep himself against F'lix despite the loosening grip (even if it did make him faintly ill) releasing the man's arm. But it wasn't to reciprocate. Crouching low and stepping back while the other man was just finishing his question, M'ta brought his elbow up sharply between the man's legs. He didn't care anymore. It didn't matter if F'lix knew or not...in the brownrider's mind, he deserved it. And, really, being from Benden, he should have at least had an inkling of a thought that maybe it wasn't a good idea to press so close to a Bitran and talk about foreplay.

Besides, P.M.S. verified just one.

M'ta took only enough steps forward to be out of immediate reach of angry stabbings and slashings from the bluerider. Before his dirk hit the dirt, the throwing knife was drawn and slicing with deadly accuracy through the brush. A sharp cry had the brownrider cursing. And, sure enough, at the end of the short sprint that took him through bushes and low-hanging branches...just a blood scrap of clothing and a knife buried in the wood far enough that it would take some doing to pull free. Blasted man must have been moving already when M'ta threw...that's what you got for relying on a salamandyr for sight.

They could track him, but just because he was alone here didn't mean he would be wherever he was headed, and M'ta wasn't precisely sure how tractable F'lix would be. Hrm. He settled for planting a boot against the tree and tugging at the knife, which remained lodged in the wood stubbornly.

[rii]

It was F'lix mistake, really, for regarding M'ta as anything other than an enemy. By the time the bluerider realized this slight, along with M'ta's intention, the time to react had passed. He had not expected such an move, it didn't make sense to completely incapacitate a person on the same side. F'lix didn't utter a cry. The bile rose in the back of his throat and he slowly clenched his jaw against the pain. The world momentarily swayed around him, making F'lix side step to firm his stance. Calmly, while remaining doubled over, F'lix sheathed his dagger at his back. M'ta had already slipped away, and was.. oh, F'lix didn't give a blasting shard at the moment. He waited until the brownrider had dashed off into the underbrush before softly thumping to the ground then rolling over onto his back.

It had been quite some time since F'lix had felt such gut twisting pain. Back at Benden there had been plenty of individuals that delighted in causing others pain, to watch them squirm and cry. F'lix had made sure to either quickly cause and prevent pain, or not show a reaction to it. They usually lost interest in him. He wasn't immune, but he did have a high tolerance. Oh, but what M'ta had done.. hurt.

Slow breaths. F'lix stared distantly up at the canopy. Don't let them see the pain. They liked to see the pain. Swallow it down. Always get hurt. Quiet you. The soft teasing was enough for F'lix to push the rest of his discomfort away. He sat up, rising to his feet with a noticeable degree less than his usual feline grace. His mind jerked back to the scene and F'lix gave a half-hearted glance in M'ta's direction. No, best to avoid the brownrider at the moment, F'lix felt too much like returning the gesture.

Hm..

F'lix pivoted and walked in another direction to track down the knife thrown by the unknown assailant. He turned the foreign blade around in his hand, nothing really distinct about it, but F'lix tucked it away none the less. He then foraged around until he found the one of M'ta's he had thrown. Circling back to the original spot, he picked up the abandoned sheath, and only after that did he finally pad over to M'ta.. who still appeared to be having troubles with the lodged knife. While the brownrider struggled, F'lix silently shouldered a nearby trunk (well away from M'ta) and began estimations of possible height of the stranger according to where the knife stuck in the wood and the piece of sleeve it pierced.

The entire situation was very.. odd. And F'lix kicked his thoughts to mull over possible whys and whos instead of entertaining the idea of smashing M'ta's face into the trunk. Finally he sighed, a hand coming up to pinched the bridge of his nose. "See what he looked like..?"

[Requiem]

Bother. M'ta took a step back and glowered at the dagger, as if that would somehow loosen it. He could always dig at it, but that was likely to chip both blades involved, and he wasn't aggravated enough yet to start doing damage to the daggers. He didn't spare F'lix a glance, even though he half-expected the man to express his displeasure quickly and messily. The brownrider had little doubt he'd have time to react, even if it didn't do him a whole lot of good, and staring at the bluerider was hardly going to change much of anything.

Actually, it was mildly more unsettling that F'lix didn't seem to react, to be honest. M'ta had firsthand knowledge of that sort of pain - most recently from the siege - and it was hardly something people tended to ignore. Probably planning something. Well, fine. The brownrider didn't really care. He just wanted the blade out of the tree, which was proving near impossible when the blasted thing was quite literally over his head. It had come at about chest height, but flown wide. That meant the man was what...average height? Sometimes he wished he wasn't so short.

"Unless you count a muddy mandyr image a good look, no, not really. Clothed to blend. That's about all I can tell you." Okay, he needed better leverage here. Grabbing hold of the hilt, he walked up the tree, getting his balance before straightening sharply. The dagger came out, all right...and completely dislodged the brownrider, who landed on his seat with a grunt, dust rising in a cloud around him. "Waste of time," he grumbled.

His gaze flicked in the direction of F'lix. "Got anyone who wants to see you dead, bluerider?" There was no reason that this had to be related to the kidnappings at all. Nor was it likely to have much to do with M'ta directly, if only because he'd been here long enough that you'd think anyone after his blood would likely have already made the attempt. They hadn't. (With the notable exception of the Junior Weyrleader, but he hadn't tried again in turns, so M'ta was pretty certain Ka'rys wasn't involved. Not tall enough, anyway.)

[rii]

Watching M'ta struggle with the knife was a humorous scene, and the more the brownrider failed, the more clear the amused smile became on F'lix's lips. To keep from chuckling, he lightly bit down on the inside of his lip. Though a snort of laughter temporarily snuck through when M'ta technique landed him on the ground for all his trouble. The smile masked, F'lix rose an elegant eyebrow at the fallen youth–eyes momentarily glancing over the cut tracing over M'ta's torso. "You alright?"

The bluerider pushed away from the tree and circled around the brownrider. The piece of bloodied garment was picked up and examined. F'lix glanced in the direction the man had went. He had no desire to track the stranger. If it had been someone at the Weyr, their identity would become known given time, but if indeed was someone connected to the disappearances, F'lix opted to first report the incident to Ka'rys instead of rushing head-long into the jungle into a possible trap. The bluerider did have a sense of self-preservation. It only seemed to vanish when around that damn Fortian. And–hearing M'ta's question–F'lix thoughts continued to circle around that man. His lips twisted into a distinct frown. "You could say that." He shook his head, a part of him refusing to consider that possibility. "Doesn't really fit though.."

Being from Benden did not make him friends. Being unfriendly didn't help either. Yet the entire thing seemed very surreal. Hn. F'lix let the piece of cloth fall from his fingers. "Are you sure we were meant to fight?" His tone was soft, but a hint of tease laid under the words. "Perhaps they just.. missed. Where do you get it in your head to attack someone you know nothing about?"

He raised his hand, thumb and index finger held out displaying the phrase of this close down to the brownrider. M'ta had been that close to being nonexistent. Yes, F'lix acknowledge that if M'ta wanted to kill him a thrown dagger from afar would have done the job quick enough, but up close the odds were stacked in the bluerider's favor. Especially when the damn idiot didn't tell him he wasn't serious about his attack. If F'lix had not listen to that moment of doubt, which was usually ignored, he would of had one dead brownrider on his hands. With his luck, it would turn out to be everyone's favorite little brownrider too.. The world just liked to laugh at him like that.

Another cautious gaze was swiveled around them. "We should get back to the Weyr." Who knew if the man would return, alone or with others.. F'lix didn't want to stick around to find out. "You need to get that cleaned." He gave the brownrider a faint, scolding glare before turning and heading for the river. "I'm going to report this to Ka'rys."

[Requiem]

M'ta didn't particularly trust F'lix still, not moving from his position in favor of concentrating his senses on the bluerider's movements, even if his eyes remained on the spot on the tree where the blade had lodged. Yes, F'lix had stopped. There was that. Fortunate for him, too. Stupid of M'ta, but M'ta would still visit the consequences of his stupidity on someone else before allowing himself to be killed. He was just selfish enough to do that. Most people were. But if someone had attacked him, serious or not, he would be wondering if it wouldn't be better simply to make sure they never had the chance to do so again. Naturally F'lix was expected to have the same sort of temptations. Nor did men like getting an elbow to that region of their body. Ever.

But M'ta remained in place just the same, willing to be reactive in this instance. It was his mistake, after all. Seemed that the bluerider would settle for mocking him instead. M'ta was fine with that. He lived with R'wign, after all...mocking was normal. He was willing to trust that if F'lix didn't believe that this person who might want him dead was behind it, he probably wasn't, only because the bluerider seemed to have enough paranoia to have good reason to dismiss the possibility. M'ta's eyes flicked up to F'lix at the question.

"Didn't seem that bad at the time. I can be impulsive," the brownrider responded with a mild shrug. Either way, it would have distracted an attacker long enough for P.M.S. to find them, but he didn't say that. No real reason. Just as he didn't respond to the obvious suggestion that F'lix had nearly killed him. This was true, but it also wouldn't have happened regardless. The bluerider didn't need to know that, though. If they ever did cross blades seriously in the future, M'ta wanted every advantage he could get.

"Doesn't seem likely anyone would want to kill me like that," M'ta added quietly. Something he didn't care to elaborate. But anyone who knew him...those who had been on the other side of the siege included, which meant most spies would know, too...knew his skill with a throwing knife. Lyam did too. Killing him that way would be difficult. He knew the signs better than anyone of a blade in the air. People tended to notice you when you stole the junior weyrleader's daughter back from under the werysecond's nose. As the three missing fingernails on his left hand attested to. "Unless they were ignorant. I prefer to give people the benefit of the doubt in that department. Better to be disappointed."

Pushing himself to his feet, he brushed himself off, plucking at the slashed shirt. Definitely not deep. Then again, he hadn't intended it to be, had he? "Sounds like a good idea." The cleaning...eh. He should. R'wign could handle it, though. M'ta normally wouldn't have bothered, but he was pretty sure the fever that had him down for months had been a result of infection from the extensive wounds sustained in the siege, and it couldn't hurt to be a little careful, he supposed. "I suppose you'll have to mention my name," he added dryly, pulling a face. He didn't relish his wingleader asking questions. Ka'rys probably thought he went out looking for trouble.

[rii]

The two daggers belonging to M'ta dropped to the ground next to the brownrider. F'lix didn't pay much mind to the verbal responses. To the bluerider's ears, all the words sounded carefully guarded and lacking in any real substance. Evasive, even, in the way M'ta shrugged the matters aside. "Hope that's not a problem." Whatever. F'lix showed his full concern by.. continuing to walk away. He made sure to take a diagonal cut through the brush, putting tree trunks between himself and the blade-flinger. He had already given the brownrider one free cheap shot, wouldn't consciously give another.

His steps cracked over the splintered remains of trees, a path Saboth had been tearing in hopes of reaching him. A frown marred F'lix face as he noticed the color and stench of.. ichor. A mental scolding went out to the blue, and Saboth responded with one of his own. Not bothering with a show of grace, Saboth landed heavily, wings snapping shut as he came up to his bonded, rumbling deeply as he moved. His head craned down, nearly butting at F'lix, multi-faceted eyes whirling first with red and oranges of anger and worry, but soon shifting to greens and blues of his usual amusement.

F'lix kept a steady glare on the dragon, crossing his arms until, stubbornly, Saboth sat down and lifted his left fore-claw to reveal the source of ichor. A rip on the underside of his leg opened during his rampage on the trees. Nothing serious, but having his dragon hurt instead of himself, annoyed F'lix. If he chose to do something stupid, he didn't want others hurt in the process. Not for him, anyway. When it came to revenge, F'lix didn't take on such.. 'thoughtfulness'.

His dragon not here? No, but I don't care to wait.

F'lix frowned, the expression more of an annoyed scowl than anything remotely relating to sad. Surely the brownrider would be capable of taking care of himself.. if he decided to linger in the jungle. It didn't seem likely the unknown assailant would be returning so soon. Thusly, with this in mind, F'lix climb onto Saboth's back. The blue was more than ready to leave, pushing off the dirt with a powerful sweep of his wings before F'lix even had a proper grip.