As it is [Micah]

[rii]

He'd always hated the heat. Even in the cooler months, under the cover of night, didn't seem to lift the warmth to the air. Although, to be honest with himself, he had been spending a great deal of time in the north away from the comfort and warmth a weyr provided. Returning to Selenitas still dressed fully in his riding leathers made the difference all that much more noticeable. It was an amusing thought to think that on nights like these he use to shift in more closely to –

His lips tightened at the corners as he lifted a hand to open the front of his jacket. At the far corner of the training field he sat; near the trees and where a line of grass had manage to grow tall. Having already checked in with the watch dragons are parted ways with his silent dragon, F'lix just didn't feel the need to immediately return to his empty weyr. It wasn't any more home than the camp he made while scouting. Instead he remained mostly hidden by the shadows and his dark leathers with golden eyes staring up at the star-lit sky.

The wind stirred, brushing the grass against his face. F'lix made to brush the green blades aside when he noticed the dark stains on his hands. Blood - dried now; not his own, or at least he didn't think so. Earlier that day he had a surprising run in with a Benden lookout. It had ended quickly, but not fast enough to stop the man's dragon from screaming. Thus F'lix returned to Selenitas to lie low for a bit. Ja'kin would want to talk in the morning..

Again his lips twitched in distaste as a torn feeling rose in his chest. It would be best not to think about it - for now. Presently he put his mind on the dried blood splattered across his hands and leathers. It'd do good to wash up and turn in for the night. It was then, as his eyes shifted to the distance, he caught sight of movement. All too much like a predator his movements froze and his gaze half-lidded to intently watch. It was a man; whether rider or weyrfolk F'lix couldn't tell from the distance and darkness. The part that drew F'lix cat-like curiosity was the fact this individual was moving away from the weyr past curfew (of which F'lix was breaking himself, but he'd gladly welcome anyone that wanted to pick a fight with him over it). Ever so slightly F'lix head tilted to the side with silent questioning.

Where do you think you're going..

He waited until the man was nearly gone, then stood from the grasses to move along just inside the tree line in the man's general direction. Slow, quiet steps with an easy stride; in no hurry to catch up to the stranger. Nothing wrong with a little curious investigation..

[Requiem]

He'd been right there. Right...there. The trader's pace slowed the further he got from the Weyr. One of these days. One of these days he'd forget why he was waiting at all. Ah. Yes, yes, he knew. Near silent movement wasn't the same as silent movement. He'd had a lot of practice on the big cats that seemed to have deserted the immediate area surrounding the Weyr. They liked to trail you at a distance, too, assuming you didn't know they were there.

The older man increased his pace just a little bit to make sure he was out of line of sight. Out of earshot. Then he simply circled wide around a bush and came back to lean against a tree along the path he'd taken. Just out of sight of the trail he'd left. This was not the night to be creeping along after him after dark. Alone. Micah had no love for the dragonriders and his frustration was growing. One wouldn't be missed. Not right away, anyway. His eyes narrowed.

Wouldn't be the first to disappear since the caravan came into Selenitas.

He stepped out after the shadow of a man passed. Definitely riding leathers, from what he could make out in the heavy darkness. "Do all of you dragonriders trail after ghosts alone? I'd think you'd learn after the first one." First, but not last. Z'ves had been lucky; his blue could have identified Micah. And the trader had to admit that he'd taken a certain pleasure out of dumping him in the middle of the Main Hall. Unfortunately, no one had challenged him directly. A shame.

[rii]

F'lix movements lengthened, still smooth but no longer trying to stealth because he wasn't aiming to catch the stranger unaware. At least he hoped that the louder motions of his boots faintly scuffing against the ground would be noticed. All that much more fun when the person knew they weren't alone. The innocent and harmless didn't wander out at this hour, after all, and F'lix would be a liar if he didn't admit he was banking on the notion this stranger was a potential source for trouble. It got lonely after so long. A nice spirited interaction with someone might be just what he needed to.. live again - just a little.

In the darkness and trees F'lix lost track of the shifting shape that had been the man. He didn't stop, moving on with lips spreading into calm smile. He almost spoke then, only the movement of the air and the voice sounding behind came first. The pause was only slight, but F'lix didn't give in to the impulse to look back and still kept a slow pace forward. Impatient prey – didn't like to be stalked. Very well, F'lix could play that game; knew it quite well. His steps move subtly toward the heart of the jungle, down the paths he knew by heart, moving further away from the weyr.

"Ghosts only seem to come out at night when we're alone. If we don't chase them, how else are we to know whether or not what we saw was real?" The words spoken in a playful purr. Didn't know what the stranger was referring to about the first one, but the unspoken threat was clear enough. F'lix couldn't be more delighted. The scarred half of his face turned to gaze back over his shoulder, all the while listening for any fore-warning sign that this man was more than just a little impatient. "So where's your ghost?"

[Requiem]

The pause. It was the only real sign that Micah had surprised the man at all. Strong nerves. Had to give this one that much, at least. There was something about the voice. That purring nonchalance, the dark amusement... Micah's eyes narrowed. Mocking, was he? That must be what was stirring up the anger that lay smoldering in the pit of his stomach. Which no doubt was the man's intent, so Micah wasn't going to give him the pleasure.

Shadows shifted. Glancing back over his shoulder? Yes, the voice was coming straight at him now. It really was dark here with the branches blocking out the light of moons and stars. "Not here." The words came out slightly clipped. Not here. "Everywhere." Sometimes it seemed like he carried it with him, seeing it superimposed over everything. "Does it matter?"

Why was he indulging the man's strange musings with genuine answers? Possibly because it wouldn't matter. Micah had already decided that this one would not be returning to the Weyr. His manner was only cementing it further. "I'm real enough. What did you expect to see when you went slinking after your ghost?" The trader wasn't going to let the conversation stay focused on him. He wasn't the one stalking people, after all.

This time, anyway.

Sliding his hands into his pockets, he lengthened his stride enough to come alongside the other man. Micah wasn't much for playing with people. Satisfying his curiosity, however, was an occurrence that only happened infrequently because so few caught his interest. There was nothing about the other man that suggested he wasn't aware of the threat Micah posed. So why was he so calm? "Do you often spend your nights ghost hunting?"

[rii]

The man didn't sound all that certain in his answer. Amusing. F'lix could only imagine why the man sounded a bit defensive. It may have been a further attempt to come off as hostile, but F'lix could only smile at how childish it sounded on his ears. Likely an attempt to scare people off. A shame the man didn't realize that hostility and threatening words didn't bother F'lix in the slightest. In fact he did impressively well under those circumstances.

F'lix brow rose when Micah moved up to walk alongside of him. A peculiar choice, most would stalk from behind or pointedly try to ignore him by walking on ahead. Beside him felt too much on equal terms - and they were most certainly not anything near friends. Regardless, F'lix kept the majority of his gaze forward and his stride smooth. The half smile never quite leaving his lips. "Just a curious whim, because some non-rider slipping out under the cover a darkness after curfew could only be up to trouble. I found what I was looking for, besides.."

Of a sudden his arm extended, empty and open to harmlessly swipe his fingertips across Micah's arm. "As you said, you are very much real." He clucked his tongue. "Ghosts are much more frightening."

[Requiem]

The darkness prevented Micah from reading the other man's face - or really discerning any of the features at all. Not that he necessarily would have been able to read the man had it been broad daylight. Most would say that Micah definitely wasn't the most sensitive of people. Nevertheless, he could read a tone well enough, and hear the judgment in it. A wry smile twisted the lips of the hunter. You don't know me, kid.

His hand flashed out and caught the other's wrist just as his fingers brushed Micah's arm. "I know a couple of airheads who'd agree with you. Though, as far as references go, you could do a lot better." There was amusement in his voice, rather than the usual mocking tones. This one was making him more curious as time passed, rather than less. How queer. "If there were ghosts, I'd never get a good night's sleep," he concluded dismissively. Micah would have a whole army haunting him. He didn't make a habit of believing in anything he couldn't touch for himself.

Pushing the rider's hand back, he let the wrist go. "So I guess the question is, now that you've found me, what do you plan to do with me?" The smirk could definitely be heard in his words. "I don't really see how isolating yourself works to your advantage, but..." A shrug that the other was more likely to feel than see in this darkness. "To each his own, I suppose."

[rii]

The reflexive reaction from the stranger was quick, but in the end it didn't amount to much at all. F'lix kept the bone of wrist angled against Micah's thumb just in case he needed to break the hold, otherwise he remained lax. The purr worked into F'lix tone once again, aiming to stir up a defensive reaction, "And yet here you are. Not sleeping and slipping away from the weyr - for what purpose I still am curious."

Maybe. Not really.

The clearing wasn't too far off now. The vegetation already thinning to let in a bit more of the moon's light. In the back of his mine F'lix wondered if this man – should he learn his name first? – knew what blood looked like under the moonlight. The absent thought drew F'lix hand up after it had been released, his gaze slipping down to track over the dried blood still flaked over his skin. Even being surprised by the lookout it hadn't been much of a fight. Was it silly of him to hope this stranger would prove to be more? Likely.

As for Micah's question, F'lix merely smirked in return and increased his pace. There was no reason to put the answer into words – didn't they both know? Granted, F'lix could have been over-estimating the perception of his late-night company. Besides, the following words spoke otherwise. Quite the ego on this one, thinking F'lix needed some form of support of those of the weyr to handle this.

He inclined his chin to the stranger, smiling, "Just don't disappoint me."

[Requiem]

Still curious, was he? Perhaps. Perhaps not. More likely just seeing if Micah would rattle. How far the nerves might stretch sort of thing. Only the joke was decidedly on him; Micah felt more comfortable than he had in months. The clearing was close now, and the time for talking would soon be ended. He wondered if the stranger had ever fought beneath the light of the stars before. It was somehow more intimate, almost surreal. Like courtship. The thought brought a wry twist to his lips. Yeah, he'd been on his own in his own head too long.

"There are men I came here to kill." Answering his question? Why not? The quiet stranger with his almost too-happy questions - happy in the way of a feline at his cream - wouldn't be around to tell anyone soon enough. "Two in particular. One was...right there." He reached out, his fingers falling just short of the other's arm. "So close. But the timing-" And here he shrugged. He didn't think he had to make it any more clear than that. Well, obviously he didn't have to do anything. But in order for the man he would kill to understand...he shouldn't need to say any more than he had.

Perhaps it was the hour, or the nature of this strange dance within a dance, but the Hyphen accent was slipping slowly from the words. Not a conscious thing, certainly, for the shift was far too gradual. But other things were working their way in now, hints of the accent native to the region around this Weyr, a sprinkling of Benden and Fort. Micah chuckled. He could see some of the blood now, dried. "He disappointed you, did he?"

And here he stepped perhaps a bit too close to his 'dance' partner. "Tell me...if I'm not to disappoint. Are you looking to cheat death? Or to find it?" Even in the darkness, the smile behind his words could be heard.

[rii]

Enough truth wove into the words to make F'lix undecided whether or not the man was spouting nonsense. Assassins were not all that stretching of a thought. Ever since Ja'kin had taken over, Selenitas had been exposed bit by bit to the world they tried so hard to escape or ignore. The man could easily be an infiltrator sent to take out specific marks – two more important than the others. The accent to the words, that had formerly gone ignored, was listened to a touch more closely. A strange mix of dialect that F'lix was unable to pinpoint. Could be some disturbed man intent on some revenge, or – perhaps the most likely – the man was spouting off shit.

It just sounded a touch.. wistful.

The question caught F'lix a bit off guarded, and his head turned fully toward Micah. Golden eyes regarded the stranger in silence, slitting more toward a habitual glare when the distance began to close. The first signs of anger– self-aimed as they were– flickered across the bluerider's expressions. The man didn't need to know how close those simple words came to drawing out the truths F'lix kept under lock and key. The thoughts attempted to bubble up, creating an ache in his chest – which only served to make the anger burn more vividly in golden hues.

F'lix's torso twisted, his elbow snapped around, aimed to catch Micah just below the breastbone in a move that would catch most off-guarded – especially considering the near friendly way they had been treating each other. Just on the outskirts of the field now, a break in the jungle filled with the grass that was purged from the weyr. Every sweep of invisible wind stirring the silver-blue grass into a sea-like dance. It was a good enough place as any, better even, for a person to die. He hoped his companion liked the view of the moon and the stars tonight.

[Requiem]

A reaction that wasn't pleasant (semi) amusement at last. The light was getting a little better by this point, enough that it wasn't hard to fill in expression from what little he could see. Or maybe it was the simple truth that a variance of that expression was intimiately familiar to him. Micah bared his teeth in a humorless grin. Oh yes. Pushed a button that time, hadn't he?

Maybe the recognition of an expression he shouldn't have been able to discern so quickly explained his quick reflexes. Or maybe it was a result of the creatures he hunted. They were, after all, faster than humans could be. Whatever the reason, though, his hand came up, fingers curling just above the elbow and below the bicep as he angled his torso away from the blow.

"That's how it is, is it?" he murmured. "You wanted me to hear you." It didn't take much of an intuitive leap, that one. Micah released the elbow and increased his pace. Stepped out into the glade without bothering to protect his back from the stranger. You weren't going to get any lovely little wishes to end your pain - for what other reason did anyone have to yearn for death - if you went making sneak attacks.

Though really it was unlikely Micah wouldn't notice and react in time. He turned, the pike strapped to his back remaining there and out of play. A more personal game the other warranted. Micah didn't mind the intimacy of a death dance. Can't be betrayed by dead men. He was about to invite the man forward when something about the shadowy figure struck him in a strange way. His eyes narrowed against the shadows still concealing him...before he cast the thought aside. Seeing ghosts. Fate loved her cruel tricks.

[rii]

F'lix bristled. Not because the man managed to block the move, but because of the words he so arrogantly shared. Teeth flashed into view as a half sneer, have mocking smile slipped across F'lix's face. Though before the bluerider could manage to gather up his flaring thoughts enough to spit out a defensive comment, Micah was moving further on ahead into the clearing. F'lix remained behind, idly smooth the palm of his hand over the side of his hip; fingertips brushing along one of his knives.

Bastard.

Once upon a time F'lix would tuck his chin to such a situation. Let his long bangs cloak his features as he glared from their shadows. This time, though, his chin lifted ever so slightly as Micah turned to once again face him. F'lix has long ago shed the need to hide his scars. His hair was cropped almost to the scalp now and he really didn't care what this man - or anyone - thought. He took a moment to look over Micah, measuring him up from what little competence had been shown.

Flix lifted a hand and widened the opening at the top of his leathers, making the jacket loose on his shoulders as he began to stride into the field. He gave the stranger a wide berth, circling slowly and listening only to the grass rustling as he moved through the tall lengths. The man wasn't really that big, the mess of hair kind of ruined the picture. F'lix rolled his shoulders in what might have been a shrug. It doubled as a motion to slide the heavy leather jacket from his slender shoulders. He tossed it to the side with little care where it landed. Might not need it later.

Where others might have shared words, a look, F'lix no longer felt the need. The stranger had glimpse enough of a view of what the bluerider didn't want anyone to see. He didn't know how, but at the same time he just didn't want to know. Didn't want to know anything about the man. The attack was as sudden and quick as the first. The distance closed in the blink of an eye as F'lix made a testing shot for Micha's knee.

[Requiem]

It was a strange thing. Almost like being underwater, the air dragging on his limbs and too sparse for lungs. Perhaps the thought had conjured it. Some evil phantom extracting from his mind that moment of doubt and bringing it into being, giving face and shape to it where a moment ago it had been amorphous. Just a shadowy figure with a voice like devil's honey. The ultimate form of irony. After this he might have to admit to the existance of ghosts, for they were coming out to kill him, after all.

Why this one, though, of all of them?

Perhaps because this man was the one he'd wronged most of all of them. In that sense...it made sense after all. Or maybe it was as his floundering mind had first postulated, a phantom taking on the shape that most benefitted it. Jacket hit ground with a familiar economical grace, and not just familiar because Micah made his living hunting predators. Though a large part of the hunter screamed out the warning that decades of experience had turned into instinct, the face still rendered him immobile.

Another nightmare, probably. The thought skimmed across the top of consciousness. Yes, hadn't he had many dreams that had gone much like this? And, just as in the dreams that had come before, his body moved independent of his will, responding as it always did. It was the easiest thing in the world to turn aside the strike for his knee with a small, outward circular motion of his foot, ankle-to-ankle.

His weight shifted as his foot came down on top of that of the ghoul wearing that face. Independent of his will or not, though, the next move he made was not in line with his training. A swift punch to the solar plexus delivered from the hip at close range, low and fast enough that even a phantom was unlikely to see it coming before it landed. Though even if he did, his foot had been temporarily immobilized by Micah's own.

The phantom would win again. Micah hoped. The worst nightmares were the ones where he lost...

[rii]

Even in the muted shades of gray and blue, reading the signals off another person's body was as clear as it always had been for F'lix. The faint twist of the thigh, the slight twist in the torso and subtly drawn arm, the pressure on his foot. It was familiar, in the way that most death dances were, and even more so that F'lix felt he knew the man's next move better than he should. It was a tight spot to get out of, and first instinct should have been to try and jerk away or block. Instead F'lix turned, straining the muscles and tending in his leg to putting his back against the front of Micah's chest, letting that arm graze across his shirt and skin more like a lover's arm moving to embrace him.

Almost. Almost.

The man was just a bit too tall, and the smell so very off from what F'lix wanted it to be. If it had been right, there wouldn't be the blade in his hand, down low by his thigh as he completed the fearless move into Micah's personal space; the darkened metal seeking a home in the stranger's leg. No power behind the move to drive it to the bone. He had always voiced that blades didn't need power, just touch. The memory a ghostly whisper on his mind, teasing his werymate with the graze of fingers here and there along the body in play.. only now fingertips had been replaced with cold metal.

He might have done more, or been less reckless and gone for a straight up kill, but there was a longing inside of him that would not go ignored. The want and need for more than a brief taste of the dance. The fact that F'lix wanted this partner to be something more made a sickening guilt well up inside. The flow of his moments, elegant up until that point, suddenly bristled and became more clipped. He jerked away as far as he could, slicing the air aimlessly with intentions of forcing space between himself and the stranger.

Never again. F'lix refused.

[Requiem]

Swift. But why wouldn't he be? If the memory was quick, wouldn't the phantom be that much faster? His arm grazed past the man's side. Every detail was right, down to the feel of cloth on his arm and the bite of the blade slashing his thigh. A sharp sting. Like pleasure. Shallow, as he was already moving and it probably wasn't meant to be deep to begin with - if the phantom held true, felines loved to play their games.

Every detail was right except the height. No. It was Micah's height that was wrong, wasn't it? Odd. That hadn't made it into his dreams yet, but he supposed there was a first time for everything. He'd gone about this way for a long time, after all. Micah should have been more focused, more set on destroying this creature that took on its stolen shape before it could do the same to him. But somewhere in his mind he knew this wasn't real, any more than it had been all those times before. And even if it was, a mad idea indeed, then it didn't matter that the face was false. This wasn't a body he could destroy.

A handful of times, in all the dreams, he had. And he fought that despite the natural response of decades of training. It made him slower. Less motivated. Less deadly. More content and half-wishing that the reality of the dream would seep into his actual life. Was it so bad to die in your sleep? The sudden jerk of the blade in the wild response to something internal made his stomach clench. No. That wasn't right. Micah turned into his assailant with sudden force, shoulder to the ribs, hands seeking wrist and elbow with every intent to shatter the joint.

This time his mind was fully behind the action. The phantom had slipped up. The man in his dreams wouldn't reject him like that, and he was suddenly angry that it was wearing his face. It should at least take on his temprament, too, if it was going to torment him.

[rii]

Something akin to confusion clouded F'lix's golden eyes. The impact to his ribs felt only distantly as the memories continued to escape, playing through his thoughts in perfect recall. It had been easy to shove it to the far back of his mind, put it under lock and key and never stop long enough to let his mind wander back to those thoughts. Now they were leaking through, one by one, and threatening to overtake him in a flash flood. He should have been worried as the man moved with him instead of away. Instead it felt so familiar. F'lix could almost see the smile on his weyrmate's face as he demonstrated (F'lix had always learned better by doing than being lectured) what he would do to someone coming at him with a knife. The words, they were still so crystal clear even thought by now the memories should have faded – control the weapon –

– the whole body was a weapon.

F'lix's arm bent, snaking and slipping away from one of Micah's hands to avoid being shattered. His free elbow snapped forward for the other man's jaw with anticipation of it being blocked. Still trapped in place by the older man, the armed hand that had snaked away from the initial grab (At the wrist, if not the elbow) remained angled low to use the close proximity to make a subtle attempt to pierce Micah's abdomen. Prick a few holes in the man and then just give him the run around. Let all that adrenaline, the racing heart, do the rest of the work – pump the blood out until the loss slowed the man's movements.

If he could get away in once piece. This man was a bit relentless – the lack of hesitation or most reflexive reactions was a bit alarming. No, what was truly unsettling was the absolute lack of fear. F'lix felt a tinge of pity touch at the back of his mind, for himself or the stranger unclear, but the only people he knew not to fear death had already died on the inside. The shell of a body existing on, drifting, wondering in the dark corners of the mind why it bothered continuing on..