As it is [Micah]

[Requiem]

Micah rarely felt his age. He was quick for his thirty-six turns, after all, and experience made up for the rest. But these dreams liked to highlight the fact that he was no longer in his youth. Then, a grab for the arm would not be evaded so easily. The hunter settled for keeping his hand pressed lightly against the elbow, not to control it, just to feel it. Relying on eyes at this speed was tantamount to giving up.

And so he kept his shoulder pressed into the phantom's chest, protecting his own. The elbow that came swinging for the back of his head, though, was a foregone conclusion. Even in his youth, getting the arm pressed into the phantom's chest into a position to block would be impossible. Of course, in his youth he would not have responded to that move fast enough. The elbow would have caught him in the back of the skull, the questing blade found his core as many times as the dream doppleganger desired.

Now, his first reaction was not to block what couldn't be blocked, but to duck. It still clipped the top of his skull, but this didn't do much to daze Micah. Only to annoy him. As he stepped back enough to avoid all but the faint prickling sensation of a dagger tip, he took the previously trapped arm and swung his elbow into the phantom's waist, to add to the momentum of the creature's attack. All designed to push him back over the leg that Micah had snaked between both of his and topple him to the ground.

There were other things he could have done. Gone for snapping ribs and maybe puncturing a lung, gone for the diaphragm. A jab to the throat that could have crushed his windpipe. But Micah wasn't sure what would be worse, the phantom evading it or such blows landing. He hated when his dreams ended that way. The phantom should know better than to grapple at such close quarters, though...a step back and it would be his fight. Pressed against each other, it was Micah's.

[rii]

A sense of vertigo washed over him as the stars briefly filled his vision. His mind registered he was falling, and on reflex his body curled in such a way to lesson the impact. With his arm twisted - trapped - his leg coiled up toward his chest to deflect any incoming blow. All the while his dark gold eyes remained on the sky, waiting for it all to completely black out. He should have fought to keep his ground, could hear the scolding in the back of his mind..

.. and it made F'lix smile.

It wasn't the best memory he could have held onto in that single moment, but it was the first one to pop into his mind given the circumstance. There wasn't time to be picky. Only the blow he anticipated didn't come. F'lix didn't move, thought his body stiffened slightly to keep himself from tossing the stranger a questioning look. These things shouldn't have to be suggested. Yet a few more seconds ticked by which and F'lix couldn't keep his gaze on the stars any longer. His head turned in the grass, trailling his gaze over the dark profile of the stranger that continued to strike at familiar cords. In the end the golden eyes narrowed inquisitively and F'lix soft tone spoke, "You hesitate."

It wasn't to spur the man into acting accordingly - thought he acknowledge that may as well be a possible defensive response. It was.. a curiosity. As many things in F'lix's life.. he just couldn't let it go until he found some sort of answer. Although, it dawned on him that he hadn't actually verbally asked the man anything until a couple seconds of silence went by. Better late than never - was the theory. "Why?"

[Requiem]

And so...he fell. Micah did not pursue him, only kept hold of the arm because it was something to touch, phantasmic though it was. F'lix would be up on his feet again - he allowed the name to drift to the surface of consciousness finally - as always happened in the trader's dreams. What Micah wanted never mattered. The dreams didn't end until one or the other was dead.

But this time there was no stirring. The arm was released. Just enough movement that he knew his dream-tormentor hadn't broken its neck in the fall. There was never any question of reality; the man would not accept that F'lix wouldn't recognize him and he knew - knew - that the younger bluerider had left him behind. Gone to such lengths to be sure of it.

Eyes closed and face turned away. Hands found pockets. Though he couldn't keep himself from glancing back down at F'lix. Found himself crouching beside the half-curled form, and almost - almost - touched the face. But the fingers hovered and fell away. He was certain that the man would disappear the moment he touched him like that. Such was the way of dreams.

"Why wouldn't I? Why did you stop? After all the times we've danced this dance...is this to be the last time I dream of you, F'lix?" Silly, asking figments of your imagination such questions. But it was a dream and no one was here to judge him. "You will disappear the moment I touch you, won't you? I think I liked the other dreams better." His voice trailed off into a murmur. Micah - F'ur - wanted to kiss those lips so badly, to feel them again...but not for the last time. It wouldn't be right, anyway. No dream F'lix would be the same.

[rii]

F'lix's brow began to furrow, just a small wrinkle at first, as he tried to read an answer off of the man's body language. The confusion only deepened across his forehead as a hand reached for him without any form of malicious intent. Then, as the stranger spoke, F'lix again felt the sensation of falling despite lying flat on the grass (his leg long ago settled to relax half bent on the ground). His lungs were empty and the way his lips continued to part and close without sound suggested he couldn't breath at all.

Did he know this man?

He must. Yet, the only men he danced this dance with were all dead and gone. Perhaps he had hit his head on a rock in the fall. Maybe. Could be even asleep somewhere and chasing half-remembered ghosts in a dream. The way F'lix's head continued to spin made it all seem very surreal. Who are you? F'lix lips partially formed the words his mind screamed to know. Instead the young bluerider's eyes traced the shadowed face an arm's length away; wondering what he would see if he reached up and pushed aside the man's long mess of hair.

None of it made any sense.

"Because I want it to stop," The whispered words didn't match up with any of the emotions chasing themselves back and forth across F'lix's face. He wasn't even sure what he was answering in the man's question. He wanted it to stop – the pain, the longing, the emptiness. What was this talk about having dreams? And how did he know his name?. F'lix's mouth felt dry and he continued to stare; as if he could look long enough and find the missing clue to clear up his confusion.

F'lix pressed a hand over his ribs where the elbow had caught him earlier. It'd bruise, but more importantly the pain radiating from the spot told him that none of this wasn't a dream. Again, in his disorientated state, he whispered half to himself, "What dream.."

[Requiem]

"Me too," F'ur admitted. And even he wasn't sure what he was agreeing with. The fight, the pain...he didn't know. All of it, probably. It was true enough. From his crouch he sunk to his knees. It was not like the other dreams. The man glanced down, brushed fingers over the shallow slash and found it still warm. Wet. He brought fingers to mouth. The scent was right, the taste...

That was impossible. After all this time...how? Confusion gripped him, and a strong aversion to letting himself go down this path again, only to awaken. "This one." Only it wasn't like all the others, was it? This time his hand didn't stop. It brushed over F'lix's face lightly, testing. Would the man truly vanish? Warmth, there, beneath his fingertips. And F'lix remained.

A certain numbness gathered in his chest and spread to his extremities. Moisture, on his face. F'ur didn't notice it so much. "Kitten..." The break in his voice interrupted any further words. A thumb traced the younger man's lips, felt the warmth of his breath, and suddenly F'ur didn't care anymore. So what if it was a dream? It this was the only place he could touch F'lix...then let him never wake up.

He bent over the bluerider and kissed him with a certain desperation, his hands running over arms and chest, over the other man's neck and face, assuring himself that F'lix was still there and still...just as he remembered. "Tell me it's not a dream this time, Kitten." A tiny, translucent body wriggled out from F'ur's wild mess of hair, droppng to the man's shoulder.

Terror's small forelegss prodded at F'lix's cheek. No, His. This was him. F'lix was offered the slightest of croons and briefest of nuzzles before F'ur caught the man up against his chest.

[rii]

Reflexively F'lix felt himself tensing up much like a wary animal as the hand neared. Despite the obvious intention of the stranger's actions, the touch that brushed along his skin just beneath the facial scars was unexpected. F'lix's fingers flexed around the hilt, angling the darkened mental toward this man. Then that name – that silly endearment term only used by his former weyrmate. What sort of mind game was this man playing!? How did he know that name. Was this all some sort of joke — Ja'kin would be so elaborate to put something like that together. It wasn't all that hard to find all the needed details with those little worm spies everywhere.

His hand itched to bury the blade into the man's chest and put an end to it all; or at least slice open his throat to make him choke over those carelessly spoken words. F'lix didn't want to hear anymore. Instead he found himself frozen as lips pressed against his own. The urgency in the intimate touch enough to make him want to close his eyes, give up his anger, and simply give in. But no. It hurt too much to open up again. He couldn't bring himself to let go of what he once had..

.. F'ur was gone.

Nothing was going to bring him back.

No one could replace him. Even if he was only a memory now, F'lix couldn't stand the guilt he felt at the mere thought of moving on without him. The small shape landing on his chest earn no notice. The benden rider only saw opportunity when the space widen – his mind more clear without the kiss to distract him. It was easy – the stranger's guard was completely down – to rise up and shove the man against the ground with the blade pressing firmly against his throat. Fresh blood spilled as F'lix used the sharp edge to force the older's man head to angle in such a way to make use of the moonlight.

F'lix's eyes were narrowed, cold, and settled firmly on the man's features. The long hair no long obscuring the man's face. He did look a good bit like him, F'lix would give him that much. "No dream," quiet as the words were, a certain level of loathing skimmed just beneath of the surface of F'lix's tone. "I don't know who you are, nor do I care, but you will tell me who put you up to this."

[Requiem]

There was something wrong. The stiffness, the unresponsiveness...but he ignored it. Because this was F'lix and that would all go away in just a few seconds. Of course it would. Only...it didn't. F'ur tried to put his thoughts together and straighten himself out enough to figure it out. Not a dream, right? His dreams had never allowed him this closeness. But this wasn't how F'lix should be acting. A dream, then. Just a very realistic...and more cruel one than the others.

While his mind and emotions struggled with the problem, though, the younger man surged upward. And F'ur was suddenly on his back, defenseless and without much of a will to defend himself at this point even if that hadn't been true. In fact, he only wondered if he could clear the tears from his cheeks without it resulting in his earning a second mouth. Then wondered why it mattered.

The blade bit. His fingers curled slightly, wanting to touch F'lix again, even if he was only a murderous fragment of a dream. So this was to be like the others, was it? Ending with one or the other of them dead. His head tilted up with the press of the blade. The look and the unveiled loathing behind the words had F'ur's eyes sliding away from his face, catching on the glint of the ring he used to conceal the inking that held much the same meaning.

"No one," he murmured. "Kill me again. Been dead long enough I won't know the difference." Tired. He didn't want to dream of F'lix's who hated him. He didn't want to dream at all. But his desires meant little, and it was at that moment that Terror got a good look at the liquid spilling down F'ur's neck; the night shadows had hidden it from the salamandyr's immediate comprehension, huddled as he was in a trembling mass still attached to F'lix's shirt.

Noooooo! Bloooood, nooooo! the blue cried, horror in his mindvoice. Then he fainted and plopped right down into the center of F'ur's chest, a limp half-coiled body of 'mandyr. The older bluerider twitched, one hand half-coming up in an attempt to secure his salamandyr, but his eyes were already rolling into the back of his head, and his hand never made it more than a few inches above the ground.

[rii]

Again?

It annoyed F'lix to a small degree that despite his aggressive effort the situation was not becoming any clearer. He angrily grit his teeth, hissing down at the suddenly sullen man, "I don't know you." Or he didn't want to know who he had pinned down with a knife. Didn't want the man to know that he had given up on hope - only to be shown he had been wrong, unfaithful, to do so. It just wasn't possible. F'lix had waited and waited. F'ur would have given him some sort of sign that he had gotten out of the wasteland takeover alive - would he not?

The distantly familiar mind voice, and the sudden limpness, wiped the animosity from F'lix's features. The cut had not been deep enough to be lethal. Certainly not enough blood there on the man's neck to cause fainting. With Terror, though, it only needed to be a couple drops to have an effect. It couldn't be. F'lix remained poised above the man a few moments longer before he was sure it wasn't a ruse. Cautiously he withdrew the blade and settled back onto his heels.

"It can't.."

F'lix shook his head while wiping the blood off on the grass and slipping the knife back into its sheath. His hands rubbed against the top of his thighs until he was sure they were clean enough to.. prod at the small lifeless lump of lizard. It was hard to tell in the dark, but it was certainly light in color and wiry enough to fit the identity of Terror. F'ur's salamandyr. F'lix bit down on the inside of his lips as he shifted his gaze to the lax expression of the older man. How? F'lix tentatively reached forward, hesitating and pulling back once before urging himself to make the contact. Fingers brushed along the side of F'ur's face, moving more hair out of the way to view him properly. Shortly after his other hand join on the opposite side of F'ur's face to push all the hair away.

He looked so.. well scruffy with all the facial hair. F'lix fingers wandered down to trace over the older man's facial features; the small ridge of a past broken nose, the cheek bones and tears, the curve of jaw. F'lix continued to shake his head. It shouldn't be possible. "F'ur..?" a small quaver in his voice made F'lix press his lips back together to keep himself from falling apart. The exploration continued on to find further proof that F'lix needed. A nasty scar just past the collar of shirt that had been made by the mouth of a dragon, then another running along the outside of the arm. The scars had always been a story written across F'ur's body. F'lix knew them all by heart. The fingers continued running down the arm until fingertips ran over the metal of the ring. F'lix idly turned the ring in place. A part of him was scared to have come this far in his acceptance.. only to maybe find that beneath the band was just bare flesh. F'lix only had to move it a short way to see the black inking down by his own hand one evening out on the beach..

"I thought you were dead.."

Had given up. F'lix edged closer, shifting his lost weyrmate's head and shoulders to be lying in his lap. He hugged the older man the best he could anyone that was unconscious. One sleeve covering over the shallow wound on F'ur's neck in case Terror woke. Please let them both wake up. F'lix whispered incoherently to himself as he buried his face into the side of F'ur's. It didn't smell like his F'ur, but it was. "Where were you? I looked. I looked. I waited.." So many times in that clearing with hope painfully burning inside his chest. "I didn't mean to give up.."

Please wake up.

F'lix hesitantly lifted his face away, wiping away the long strands of hair that clung to side of his face. His eyes settled on Terror still coiled on F'ur's chest. Then, coiling his fingers with one of F'ur's limp hands, lightly placed both of them over the salamandyr. Should he wake Saboth or Lilitu? No, he didn't want to draw attention to this location for any reason. "Please," F'lix free hand ran through F'ur's hair. "I'm sorry.."

[Requiem]

And so another dream ended. That put the count at 28 to 21 in favor of the phantom F'lix's. The actual time that F'ur remained unconscious was not terribly long. He did not usually, after all, faint every time Terror did. He'd have been dead dozens of times over if that were the case. The bluerider was most susceptible to it when the salamandyr was Chasing or when distressed. Apparently this qualified as one of those times.

But even when he began coming around, he did not try to push himself back into consciousness. I don't know who you are, nor do I care. They'd stung, even if they were just spoken by a dream F'lix. Yet they were still spoken by his lips, in his voice, and all the sensations of the dream...he didn't want to give them up. So he fought the urgent tugging of his surroundings and tried to cling to it for a little longer.

Until he felt his body being half-lifted. Then reality started coming in, the man thinking over who might be lifting him and holding him like this in that muzzied corner of his brain he was always locked in when Terror's fainting got the better of him. Those names that he could come up with were not at all those of anyone he wanted touching him like this. K'sel's idea of a joke?

Other things were becoming noticed. A hand covering his, with a small body beneath it that had to be Terror. Words. Too fuzzy for him to make out, but the voice. The voice was so familiar. Not K'sel's. Not A'emi's. It made him relax without knowing why, because this was right and the voice was right. And the hand through his hair felt so real, too.

The older man stirred, half-nuzzling his cheek into the hand in his hair, pressing a little closer to the warmth of the man's chest. I'm sorry... Those words he heard clearly enough. His eyes shot open, but it would have worked just as well taking his time - his vision was too blurry at the outset to verify the thought that had struck him.

But soon the details clarified. The meadow. The arms around him. The stars above and the face so close. "Kitten," he breathed. Not questioning this once. It had to be real. Nevermind all the time he'd spent looking for him, the flowers from their northern hideaway left in the glade F'lix had sent them to in the hopes that the younger man would find them...he was here.

The hand not covering Terror looped up around F'lix's neck, and F'ur kissed his jaw, pressed his cheek to the man's face. "You were dead...How?" Give him some explanation, anything to banish the sense that this was his mind unraveling on him.

[rii]

Stirring.

F'lix loosened his hold on the man after realize he had been slowly tightening the hug. Relieved as he was, a thread of tension still wove itself between the young rider's shoulders. Anyone could be brave when no one else was looking, but now with the man – F'ur waking, F'lix felt apprehension and the strange need to back away.Kitten. The nickname had a different reaction this time around. F'lix physically relaxed before re-tightening his arms around his weyrmate. He then proceeded to bury his face against the uncut side of F'ur's neck. It had always been his safe spot, there out sight, when he was upset or too wary to speak his mind.

The question registered, but the only things F'lix could think to say were similar questions. "Not dead." Not the best start, but it was taking longer than normal to form a coherent answer that didn't fragment into a question of his own. "I.. " What had happened again. F'lix had done his best to stop reflecting on the past events. "..went out hunting Ba'sun that morning."

The tone was half questioning, ".. I remember hearing the keening then it all went black. He knocked me out. Must of hit me me pretty good too.. I was out for a few days. Saboth wings were broken during the invasion.." And the pale blue was just broken in general. Saboth hadn't spoken since the take over. F'lix couldn't help but feel responsible for it. So self absorbed in his own misery to notice the turmoil in his dragon. Gently F'lix nuzzled the side of his lover's neck.

"Where did you go? I looked as much as I could," Guilty. He should of done more. The younger rider's mind shifted gears and he jerked away, eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here? You can't be here." Reckless jerk! Anyone might recognize him in the full light of day - and what then? They'd have F'ur killed. What was he doing prancing around the weyr at night anyway - past curfew! Grrr..

[Requiem]

Better. Oh so much better than the dream. He had a F'lix at his neck again, the arms embracing him, no stiffness. No disgust. If F'ur had been more demonstrative in his emotions he might have started crying again, but his eyes were dry. "No," the man agreed. Not dead. Definitely not dead. And not a dream, either. None of it had been, had it? He could feel the stickiness of blood beginning to clot on the other side of his neck. Then the words, too...F'lix hadn't recognized him. It was a strangely sobering thought, but he retained enough humor - or perhaps it had sprung to life again just now - to let that go in favor of a different thought. Well, if F'lix hadn't recognized him, at least it was unlikely others would.

The low growl at mention of Ba'sun's name indicated well enough that he'd heard this part of the story already. No opportunity thus far...but then his mind caught up with what F'lix was saying. It sounded much like the man had acted... No, he didn't really care what the reason was. It had separated them, thrown them both into a living hell, and he wouldn't forgive Ba'sun for that very easily. Probably not at all.

"We..." But he never did get a chance to respond to F'lix's question. The man was backing up with a glare and a snap too suddenly, F'ur resting his weight on his elbow and just fixing the bluerider with a rather bemused look. "You were dead. Why should I care? Here is where all my enemies are." Enemies, still. Always. They'd caused him too much pain, even if half of it had been based on false information, to ever be anything but.

"We went to the coordinates you gave us. Then to a hold. I...kept going back to that glade, left things there. Our flower a few times. But I never found you or any indication of you. We joined with a trade caravan, walked right in here. No one recognizes me as I am now. We've come here several times, now, and I'd always look for Saboth on the ledges, for you in the crowds...nothing. Where have you been?" It wasn't quite accusatory, but there was residual pain there, bare and visceral.

It didn't keep him from seeking F'lix's touch again. His hand, only. It was so difficult to believe, after accepting his death all those months ago, that F'lix was here. Alive. Real. This had better not be a dream.

[rii]

F'lix gaze narrowed a second time. He left the scolding to the look, because he was hardly fit to belittle F'ur when he himself hadn't cared for his own well being once he had accepted the 'fact' that F'ur was gone. The circumstances had changed since then. The level of danger had not changed, but F'lix didn't want F'ur in a situation where it was all too easy to be discovered and killed. Yes, he had once sat by F'ur's bedside as the man barely held onto life, and yes after the take over F'lix had eventually given in to the thought that F'ur was dead. Naturally it was not an ordeal that F'lix wanted to go through a third time..

"You did?" A half-choked laugh sounded. They must have been going at different times and always missing each other. It was amusing, at least now that he finally did have his weyrmate in his arms. The wind playing tricks with them as it had likely been the culprit to blow away the flowers. F'lix laughed again, but the sound coming out more as a sob as he again hid his face against F'ur's neck.

Walked right into the Weyr as a trader? What a reckless fool. F'lix sought out the corner of F'ur's lips, pressing his own there and nothing more. Only F'ur would be so crazy as to do such a thing and have it actually work. The kiss, as simple and chaste as it started, shifted to something more longing and lingering – as much as the awkward angle allowed F'lix. He wanted to erase the pain in F'ur's words with the contact alone. Albeit, the answers would have to be spoken sooner or later.

F'lix nervously licked his lips, his head turning away to let his gaze flee for those few brief seconds. "Ja'kin knows what I'm good at." Knew how to use people as resources. "Most of the time I'm up north - around Benden. I only come back down here a few days every couple of sevendays to give my report." Why in all this time he hadn't just disappeared F'lix couldn't say, and he hoped F'ur wouldn't ask. The answer he might get would not be liked. "I just got back a few hours ago. I like to come back at night because it's too hot here. I was just unwinding when I saw you.."

Chance upon chance upon chance..

"How long have you been here – all this time – I still don't understand – what are you doing here? And you smell. Awful." F'lix was fairly sure that last bit was not meant to be spoken aloud. How he managed to change 'I've missed you' and 'I'm so happy to see you' into the blather that spilled out from his mouth was a mystery.

[Requiem]

The bitter laughter was met with no questioning. F'ur had the feeling that he probably didn't want to know. This was probably why he didn't try to think too much or analyze it, either. He accepted the kiss with a revived hunger that he'd thought long-dead. It was all the more ravenous for its extended hibernation. Turning his head as much as he could in their strange positioning, he parted reluctantly, almost forgetting the question of a moment before.

Almost.

F'lix did not try to evade it, though, and F'ur merely listened. Eyes narrowed on the features turned away from him at the name. The older man wanted to ask...but knew he shouldn't. Not now. Such knowledge had the potential to tip him over an edge he could ill afford to tumble from. And then the thought. Why? Why? would F'lix keep coming back here, to...Ja'kin?

The question never got asked. F'lix's did, instead, and the comment that drew out a laugh and erased some of the darker considerations. "People have this odd habit of keeping their distance in such circumstances," he commented, almost flippantly. To be followed by a slightly more serious tone. "It's not really that bad, is it? Not like I bath so infrequently that the dirt starts forming layers," he concluded in a mutter.

There was the question to answer, though. "Off an on...since about two months after it all happened." It had taken them that long to get their affairs in order, their backstories set, and to make the journey up with the caravan. "We come and go with the other traders...didn't want to stay so long as to draw suspicion. At first I was searching. Then it turned into revenge," softly, almost sheepishly. Almost, but not quite. Surely F'lix didn't expect much else from him.

[rii]

A soft snort responded to the issue of smell. Well yes it was a good bit unpleasant. It had to be to detour people from - what, socializing with F'ur's alter-ego? F'lix had caught a whiff of it upon trailing him from the start, but he wasn't about to put off his stalking just because the man had stunk. F'ur was never the cleanliest of men, but there was a big difference to F'lix between a sweating F'ur that was fresh from a round of training that was a definite turn on than an off — and then this man with unkempt hair, bristled facial hair and a smell about him that was meant to detour contact. It was a matter of the smell of a living man and one that was standing with one foot in the grave.

"It's sour," F'lix commented absently in a whisper while pulling himself closer to demonstrate he didn't truly care in that moment. So F'ur had been there since damn well near the beginning. Right there to be found at any time throughout those agonizing months. F'lix didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It didn't matter, he decided, because he had F'ur there now. The pain that had been slowly eating away at him would reside. Right then F'lix wanted to do little more than to continue to kiss the other man in a strange for of apology of not finding him sooner, that at some point had given up almost entirely. Almost. As pathetic as it sounded, F'lix was sure if he had just let it all fade into nothing that he too would have ceased to exist. It was likely wrong to feel as much guilt as he did right then, but F'lix manage to swallow the majority of it down and concentrate more on the warmth of the body next to his own.

As F'lix listened more to F'ur's words than just simply enjoying the sound of his voice, the bluerider pulled back slightly with an owlish blink and a frowning line along his brow. 'We' F'ur spoke. Exaggerated images of a whole group of escaped Selenitas's posing as hold traders came to mind and F'lix had to reassure himself that F'ur wouldn't have been that reckless - to trust his cover to so many others. "Who–" F'lix sharply shook his head. "Don't tell me anymore."

He still needed to report to Ja'kin in the morning. If that man even had the faintest inkling that information was being withheld – F'lix grimaced silently to himself – Ja'kin could read him like an open book. And F'lix was a terrible liar. Even if he said nothing at all his body language often gave him away. Ja'kin knew what points to pressure and how to read the reactions. Even now the bluerider was unable to hide the tensing in his muscles. F'ur couldn't stay here at the weyr anymore. There was no point anymore, right? F'lix may have been a little be selfish thinking F'ur's revengeful intent were on his behalf, but if he was alive and well there was no reason to continue seeking revenge.

Two, F'ur had mentioned that he was there kill two people in specific. "Ba'sun isn't a bad guy." F'lix ventured a good guess on who might be one of the two. If he could detour F'ur from revenge, then maybe he could.. make him leave the weyr. It sounded right and wrong all at the same time. F'lix didn't want F'ur to go. "He's.. this.. it's not the first time he's stopped me from getting myself killed." The other one might as well be Ja'kin - and for that one F'lix would not offer an excuse. Anything he might of said would only be taken poorly.

"F'ur," A painful note to his voice; a single trail of moisture rolled down his cheek. "You can't be here.."

[Requiem]

Sour. Yes, it probably was. F'ur thought about apologizing, but then discarded the notion. He had intended to 'wear' this odor, after all. (Maybe not quite as bad an odor as people seemed to think, but it was hard to moderate stench.) Nor had he known he'd run into F'lix tonight. Or see him at all. Thus no need for an apology. Instead, he pressed closer against his lover and allowed himself to be truly content for that small moment.

And a small moment it truly turned out to be. F'lix kept on pulling back just when F'ur was getting comfortable. (This was why he should really do the holding. Then the problem would be eliminated.) Opening his mouth to answer, he closed it again on silence, though not before giving F'lix a curious look. Shouldn't it be obvious who he meant, anyway? Only A'emi and K'sel had been sent to the same coordinates as F'ur. But he said nothing.

The older bluerider's eyes narrowed at F'lix's assertion as to the worth of Ba'sun. Surely F'lix knew that F'ur didn't truly care whether or not Ba'sun was a 'good' guy. Questions of morality were not high on F'ur's list of things to contemplate. He had what he cared about and what he didn't. Grunting at F'lix's words, he found it more telling that the younger man didn't even try to persuade him regarding Ja'kin. Smart man.

Though he'd done fairly well in keeping silent up to this point - F'ur really wasn't looking for a fight, after all - the last comment had an answer almost before the older man had a chance to process it. "The hell I can't. I'm right here." A comment illustrated by the tug at F'lix so that they were again pressed close. "More importantly, you're here."

Of course F'ur knew what it was that F'lix was saying. Impossible not to. It didn't mean he couldn't vehemently disagree with it, even if the logic made sense. "You can't tell me to leave right after I found you again," the man growled. Not moved to a single tear like F'lix was, there was enough feeling in F'ur's gruffness that it couldn't easily be overlooked. He would not do this.

"Why can't you come with me, if you want me to leave?" A good question. A better one was the one he didn't voice, because he knew it would hurt. Did F'lix want to stay here because of Ja'kin? Oh, he knew that in his mind the younger man rejected the bronzerider, of course. But the mark was there and something else, too, a subconscious yearning, perhaps. F'ur didn't care to share his kitten with anyone. A ghost of a memory of a man could be tolerated, but not the man himself.

The older man relented a little. He didn't want to ruin this. Getting into a fight now would be...more than just inconvenient. "Or let me stay closeby, so you can come visit me. I'm not going to leave, to be parted from you another turn, when you could leave me for good at any time and I wouldn't know. You can't ask me to do that." He stared at F'lix, willing him to agree. F'ur understood the fear, but shardit...he wasn't going anywhere.