lost the moth? [Weyrling Chores/Open]

[Requiem]

A quiet, simmering rage lurked beneath the surface, an all-too-familiar sense of inadequacy. Failure. Turned inward, it was, but also outward towards C'vin for forcing him to acknowledge that the fear still lingered like a terrible disease. He was even upset with Tr'esn. Perhaps especially with Tr'esn. The boy was cowering by his shelf of books, as if M'ta would ever do anything to harm him, and that...that stung. Half the reason his reaction had been so volatile was because of Tr'esn! He was not a monster. Not. A. Monster. Not like the people who lurked on the edge of dream and memory and...how useless it was to lie to yourself. Even he wanted to laugh at such a preposterous claim. Of course he was a monster. He could kill at the bat of an eye from a distance of over fifty yards and not feel an ounce of remorse. Could fly into a rage and hunt down four men, brutally murdering them in such a way that they lingered, and think only that it was too quick, too easy for such scum. That they should have suffered more. It didn't matter what they'd done, how they'd destroyed and killed Shitaki and so many others. Only a monster could do and think such things. Tr'esn should be scared of him. He wasn't scared enough.

No one was scared enough.

M'ta eyed C'vin neutrally for a long moment, his face wholly expressionless as he watched the other boy's unsteady attempt at writing, the darting eyes, the squirming. The brownweyrling released his breath in a slow exhale and pushed back his chair. C'vin wasn't a threat to anyone. He was twitching like a trapped rodent when M'ta hadn't really even done anything. That made it clear, at least in the shorter boy's mind, that C'vin was a stranger to violence. He was beginning to wonder if he was the only one around here who reacted...right...to anything. Or was it wrong since he was in the minority?

Jabari made a small huffing noise, and M'ta gave the brown a silent nod, the firelizard dropping to skim low over the desk and rub his body up against C'vin's arm, crooning anxiously. The brownweyrling watched for a moment, then stood and walked over to Tr'esn, his dark eyes taking in the defensive, frightened coil of a boy with something dangerously close to dark amusement. This kid would never have survived Bitra. Ever. Good thing he hadn't been there, then. Descending into a crouch, his hand fell solidly on Tr'esn's shoulder. "Hey. It's okay. I'm...sorry I frightened you. But if you don't get to writing here, Sel'n's going to have your hide." And Sel'n wasn't in the best of moods lately. M'ta refused to feel guilty about that. "Come on." The brownweyrling helped lift Tr'esn to his feet and nodded toward the desk and C'vin.

Jabari was now curling around the blueweyrling's wrist and, as M'ta returned to his seat, he found he had no idea what to say to the junior weyrling. No idea whatsoever. You scared me because you're big and I have a complex. Sorry. The dark-skinned lad smiled ruefully. Yeah. So not going there. He was definitely calm now, though, and a brow lifted at C'vin. "Where I come from...it's a sign of aggression to block the only exit out of a room. Sometimes I forget that Selenitas is not at all like Bitra. I hope that you won't hold it against me too much." M'ta was loathe to mention Bitra, but enough knew he was Bitran that it was silly to think he could keep it a secret. And if that helped explain anything without him having to get personal, all the better. Even here at Selenitas most people knew that Bitra was the cesspool of the north...where every sin and cruelty was commonplace.

Behruth drifted downward, landing some distance away with his usual level of awkwardness...though the spray of dirt and grass didn't hit Oquith or the blue that he thought must be Mallowth. He crooned apologetically to the both of them, carefully stretching out his wings before folding them lightly across his back. You both are all right? he questioned the two, a touch of anxiety behind his words. Ruth didn't really know what to tell Oquith; M'taHis kept his secrets close. He felt he owed her something, though, and maybe...maybe if someone knew, it would be easier for His.

The explanation was only for the green. He didn't know Mallowth at all. Mine and his clutchmates were hurt, once. He does not...trust...new people. Yours he sees as a clutchmate, Oquith, and he was afraid that he and Yours might be hurt. He fights when he's afraid. That was pretty much as good as Behruth could do. Flying and death were things that he would never tell anyone.

[Avu]

Tr'esn was certain that if he tried to get up and move stably towards the table, he'd probably totter and drop Moth, and while he didn't mind the embarrassment, he didn't want to risk dropping the kitten and having her get hurt or run off somewhere in a new game of hide and seek. She was calm now, but Moth had horrible mood swings, and she would hardly stay that way long. So he kept his arms clamped around the feline, holding her against his chest, petting her, soothing her -- though truly, the gestures were meant to soothe less Moth and more Tr'esn. Her squirmy body clasped against his, and the smell of her, warm and earthy, was...oddly reassuring. Moth's purr was quiet now, and the white kitten wriggled around to face Tr'esn, peering up intelligently at his face with brilliant green eyes as her sandpaper tongue came out, rasping against his cheek affectionately, almost canine-like in behavior as she went on licking him, as if he was a kitten that needed badly to be cleaned.

He just stared absently at a spot on the ground, but his gaze shifted automatically to C'vin as the blueweyrling made his way over to the table, getting the materials for copying over old records. But -- even Tr'esn could see his nervousness, his twitching around and glancing up every few seconds. At least Tr'esn wasn't the only one so openly frightened, but...he was hoping he wouldn't be that nervous. It looked...awkward, more animal than human. Oquith, finally sleepy due to his rhythmtic stroking, wriggled down his collar and then curled up against Tr'esn's stomach, yawning and nuzzling the greenweyrling's skin lightly before she curled up in a lump there. She was...so easily appeased. And so fearless. He'd seen Moth try to attack Oquith's muzzle in play, had seen the kitten winding around the green's legs as Oquith pranced in place in excitement, or carefully tried not to squash the bold darting flash of white. Was it strange, to wish he had the bravery of a kitten? Of a moth?

As the brownweyrling stood, Tr'esn dropped his gaze instinctively to Moth, using the kitten as an excuse as one arm slid protectively -- possessively -- around the small lump of kitten, a vague grimace flickering across his face, and -- he couldn't help starting as M'ta's hand touched his shoulder, and the greenweyrling raised his eyes slowly to stare in surprise at M'ta. ...what? It was okay? It wasn't okay. But Oquith's warm mental encouragement and the slight joke about Sel'n helped ease Tr'esn's stomach, and he managed a smile, rather wobbly but genuine. Sel'n. Oh. Sel'n was the last thing on Tr'esn's mind right now -- if the brownrider did come in, he'd have Tr'esn in trouble anyway because of Moth -- but he nodded gratefully at M'ta for...bringing him out of the shocked, instinctively defensive position, and then plopped himself down in the seat -- gently! Wouldn't want to hurt Moth -- between C'vin and the seat that had been recently occupied by M'ta. Drawing inkwell and quill towards him, the greenweyrling squirmed slightly to get comfortable as Moth's fur brushed his abdomen, and then reached for the records.

Just copy the letters. The steady flow of work calmed his nerves, and Tr'esn found that after the initial difficulty of focusing, it was really much easier to dismiss the last lingering fear if he concentrated on writing. What was he writing? He had not a clue in the world, but that made copying it all the harder. More to concentrate on. He squinted slightly at the grainy writing, swallowing slightly, but as M'ta addressed C'vin, he couldn't help stopping to glance up, his head tilted towards the records but his eyes focused solemnly on the brownweyrling. ...Bitra. Bitra? Tr'esn was unfamiliar with the North -- and with geography, period. Not being able to read had that effect on someone -- but word of mouth...did get around, most of the time. Bitra. Bitra...? He bit his lip between his teeth, ignoring the slight shiver of sympathy that threatened to crawl over his skin. He...did feel bad, for anyone who had gone through...gone through Bitra, no matter what had actually happened there.

Oh! Mallowth! Oquith squirmed, twisting around to croon a greeting to the blue weyrling that swam towards her, pulling himself out of the water and then coming quickly closer. As he sat down a distance away from her, Oquith crooned again. Hello, Mallowth, the green said, no longer in that light friendly bantering tone that she usually used but a more serious tone. I -- am as well as can be expected, she answered him neutrally, tilting her head anxiously in the blue's direction. She had no wish to alienate him -- she was quite fond of Mallowth; he was nice! -- but she was exceptionally worried about Hers, Mallowth's, and about Behruth's. Mine...was scared, she responded honestly. He is not so scared anymore. Behruth's is nice to him, the green explained, shrugging her shoulders expressively. I do not think that Behruth's will hurt Ours, the little green added. Benefit of the doubt, she'd give him. He'd always been nice before!

-- Behruth! Oquith flared her wings in surprise at the sight of her brown clutchbrother, but his apologetic croon earned a soft croon from Oquith as well. It wasn't his fault, no. His question drew a quick nod from the small green, and she glanced at Mallowth, anxiousness tinting her own gaze as well. The blue was so young, he was...The explanation, though, distracted Oquith, and she thought over it carefully. Hurt clutchmates? No...she didn't like it. Wymeth and Qualuth were her clutchmates, her very closest, and Behruth and Checkoth next (mostly because they were the only other clutchmates she saw on a regular basis), and she wouldn't like any of them hurt. I...am sorry, Behruth. It is not good, for Ours to be hurt, the green answered slowly. May...may I tell Tr'esnMine this? I think he would like to know.

[topaz]

C'vin tapped the end of his quill softly on the desk as he scanned over the next few words he was supposed to write. He didn't notice that he was doing anything out of the ordinary really. The tapping and fidgeting were more nervous reflexes then conscious movements. At the sudden sign of movement in M'ta's direction, C'vin instinctively looked up at the boy. However M'ta was not the one inching closer, it was his brown flitter. The blueweyrling watched as the brown met him, brushing up against his arm. He couldn't help but smile slightly at the little beast, and slowly raised a hand to scratch the brown's eye ridges. Taking a glance up at M'ta, C'vin's smile had not faded, and only increased by a fraction accompanied by the slightest of nods. Maybe this was the boys way of apologizing? Sending his flitter? Either way it was very much appreciated, more so then C'vin had led on.

Hearing the rustling of fabric and chair, C'vin looked up from the flitter again and watched M'ta move to Tr'esn. C'vin felt badly for the greenweyrling, still protectively huddled over Moth, but M'ta seemed only to want to make amends. His apology was made light with humor, but the sentiment was still very much there, C'vin thought. The teasing warning of Sel'n's fury was also quite welcome, and C'vin smiled as the brownweyrling said it. Feeling a tightening around his wrist, the weyrling looked down fondly at Jabari now coiled around his hand, and he began again his petting of the creature. For a person so distant, his pets were certainly affectionate.

With the three weyrlings now in their seats, C'vin looked up at M'ta with interest as he spoke. Bitra? Flashes of maps from his weyrling lesson came to mind, locating the correct spot on the northern continent. He vaguely remembered stories - horrible stories that he had hoped to be only sick rumors - about the place. Murder, thievery, gambling and prostitutes made up the bulk of the tales. Could they all be true? If it was, then M'ta's reaction before might not have been too far off normal; a thought which both placated and worried C'vin. He shook his head slightly, and made a subtle sweeping motion with his free hand. "It's alright. If I had known all that, I wouldn't have put you in that position, for sure. But it's all said and done now, huh? No reason to dwell on it." C'vin wasn't sure if he was actually as confident as his words sounded, but the fact that the brownweyrling had apologized and even tried to explain, went miles with this weyrling. Having Jabari on his arm was also a comfort, more so then anything M'ta could have said. Beasts, C'vin had gathered from turns of being around dragons and flitters in the Weyr, relied on their instincts primarily, so it was nearly impossible to find a liar among them.

Satisfied with how the situation had finally begun to work itself out, C'vin looked to Tr'esn next to him, and gave him an encouraging smile. There was no point in harping on the past, as C'vin would make sure something like this never happened to him again. How that was to be accomplished was not yet clear, but he would certainly think twice before closing himself in a room with anyone from Bitra again. Turning his attention back to the record in front of him, the blueweyrling skimmed through the characters and words to find where he last left off, and slowly began writing again; noticeably calmer then his first attempt.

- - -

Mallowth wriggled happily in his spot as Oquith greeted him with a croon. She seemed okay. So Hers . . . yes. Hers was okay too. That was good. Mallowth nodded as the green spoke, rumbling slightly in agreement. Yes. Mine was afraid too, but he is much better now. Mallowth crooned happily as Oquith assured him that Behruth's would not harm Theirs. She would know the pair much better then Mallowth and C'vin did, so he believed her wholeheartedly.

As Behruth came to land, Mallowth just watched him for a few moments. Seeing Oquith flare her wings so suddenly put the much smaller blue on edge, however her croon seemed to signal that the initial reaction was only one of surprise. Mallowth then followed the green's lead and crooned a friendly hello to the brown. Yes Behruth, I am fine. Mine has calmed. Yours is very nice to him after, so Mine does not feel bad towards him. The blue nodded his head to emphasize his earnest. Nothing really had happened. They were just scared. All of them. It was alright now.

[Requiem]

M'ta half-sprawled in his chair, nodding at C'vin's response with a somewhat weary half-smile. The cold, hard planes of his face had melted, and he looked...older for a few moments. Jabari chirped a question to the brownweyrling, who made a circular motion with his hand. Satisfied, the brown firelizard let his head fall back to the blueweyrling's wrist. Without the tension and latent aggression, a certain awkwardness clung to M'ta, his words coming laden with something like amusement - at the weyrling's own expense. "I'm M'ta, by the way." He hadn't bothered to introduce himself at all, had he? "And, freak accident that it might well be, Behruth's mine." Figuring that C'vin might have heard of the shiny-gathering brown, if not stories (most of them untrue, though enough were that it hardly mattered) about the brownweyrling from his turns of candidacy.

Now that everything was kind of normalish, he took up the quill, several lines of nearly illegible, hurried scribbles making their way to the parchment. M'ta wrote...unbelievably fast. It just wasn't much good unless you had the patience to decipher it. Which reminded him...Meira was going to teach him, once. How to properly write the characters. He just worked on sight...and after that he had his own method. Part of the problem was that he suspected he was actually left-handed, but he'd taught himself with the right since that was easiest to observe. Well, the archivists hadn't complained to anyone of import yet. He felt no need to change until they did.

Stretching out his legs as he turned the page, he glanced over at Tr'esn. "I can teach you, you know." Something of a random comment, but M'ta made his intent clear by nodding toward the scroll the greenweyrling was copying. "I mean, I only learned...about three turns ago now. But R'wign's too busy. It will make things easier if you learn." Reading was fairly important, M'ta had discovered early on, much to his chagrine. It wouldn't be, of course, but they always expected everyone to know how. The north wasn't such an accomodating place.

Or whatever background Tr'esn had come from, apparently.

Well, at least they didn't seem terribly angry or agitated, given the croons. Though he'd felt a spear of despair when it looked like Oquith might actually attempt to flee him. Behruth hardly knew how to handle something like that. He loved pretty much every dragon and person he'd ever met, and to see anyone distressed only caused him distress in turn. I am glad to hear it, the older dragon stated genuinely. Mine is usually nice. I am sorry about Yours and Oquith's.

He moved closer, nudging up against Oquith as much to seek out comfort as to give it, his nose falling along her shoulderblade in a light nuzzle. With his tail, he stroked the little blue weyrling lightly along the flank and hoped the young one wouldn't mind. A low croon rumbled in his throat, directed toward both dragons. His words, however, were only for one. It is not your fault, Oquithsister. He hesitated, though only for a moment. If he'd truly wanted this to be kept a secret, he would not have told his clutchsister those things in the first place. Though he very much appreciated that she would think to ask.

You may tell Yours if you like. Mine...does not like to talk about any of that, but he told Yours a little, so I think it's okay. He hoped it was, anyway. Behruth wasn't about to risk putting His into another black mood by bringing the subject back up by asking permission.

[Avu]

He was concentrating mainly on the letters: Forming the unfamiliar shapes, carefully tracing over each of them, double-checking to make sure he hadn't missed any -- not that he was going particularly fast, or hastily; once he'd explained his problem to the Archivists, they'd been okay with his...lack of speed when it came to copying records, as long as they were readable. Were they readable? He didn't know. He was trying to form the letters as much like the ones on the hide as possible, but the ones on the hide weren't particularly neat, either. Very...loopy. Tr'esn squinted, one hand curled protectively around the lump in his shirt that was Moth, almost like a pregnant woman might touch her stomach. Moth, it seemed, was now quite content, since she'd her fair share of attention from both M'ta and C'vin, to curl up and nap some more, and was utterly silent and motionless save for the faintest rise and fall of her sides.

Another, smaller part of him was concentrating on C'vin and M'ta's...apology? Conversation? -- whatever it was. A...kind of understanding, more like, the weyrlingrider decided vaguely, carefully shaping a Y with the utmost care. It was easier to concentrate on these letters, these shapes that never seemed to vary from word to word, than to concentrate on the ever-shifting conversation and the confusion that accompanied it, the nervousness and the shy insecurity. He curled his fingers awkwardly around the stick of charcoal, and then uncurled them again, absently biting his lip between his teeth. He didn't chew his lower lip, but merely held it between his teeth, almost as an excuse not to have to talk or to do anything other than continue to painstakingly form those letters.

That M'ta had not introduced himself till then had more or less escaped Tr'esn, who, since he'd known the brownweyrlingrider's name, assumed, automatically and incorrectly, that C'vin was familiar with at least his name, too. It seemed like a peace offering, and the greenweyrling's gaze flickered upwards, a tiny smile curving the right side of his lip awkwardly upwards, uncertainly, his large gray eyes automatically seeking reassurance from the other two that they were, indeed, on...less volatile terms. And...and M'ta wrote fast. Tr'esn couldn't help his eyes widening slightly, awed and slightly envious that the other knew how to write so quickly when he couldn't so much as read. He squirmed in his seat, closing his fingers so tightly around the charcoal that the dark grayish stick left dark lines on his fingers as he tried to focus on the hide again. But, as much as he wanted to please the Archivists and Weyrlingmaster, he'd already discovered that...without knowing that the characters meant, the chore grew boring very quickly.

And -- what?

Teach him? Someone was willing to teach him? Tr'esn blinked, the shock clear in his eyes as he stared at M'ta for a moment. "I -- I -- um, I'd -- really like that," he stammered, taken by surprise. Nobody had ever bothered to care about whether or not he could read, or whether or not it would make life easier on him or anything before. For someone to actually care was...surprising. He hesitated, and then added, self-deprecating, "I...don't know how fast I'd learn, though." The weyrlingrider progressed well in the mandatory Weyrling Lessons they took, but there was a difference between things he would need to know for survival and...learning to read. "But...I'd...I'd appreciate that a lot," he finished, almost in a whisper, hopeful and barely daring to think about being able to actually read the hundreds of thousands of hides that filled the Archives. He thought it'd be nice, to know what they said...if they held anything interesting.

Oquith liked Mallowth, she did. The blue was far younger than she, but he was quite polite and just so nice. Had she ever given him a shiny present before? -- she thought she might, if she hadn't; she'd ask Tr'esnHers later, when he wasn't still nervous. He always remembered! The tiny green only crooned again, affectionately, in his direction; though she often had presents on hand just in case she met anybody she liked, she had none at the moment, and she didn't want to hurt him by offering him something she wouldn't be able to give him. Besides, it was always better as a surprise. Yes. Surprises, the green decided, were very good. Naive was Oquith, but that was simply because nobody -- nobody -- had ever let her down or hurt her before. She was less aware than Behruth about the evils of the world, and was much more forgiving. Everything was all right: Everything was fine.

As Behruth moved against her, the tiny green automatically crooned again, twisting in order to drop her head loosely along the brown's hindquarters, tilting her head to rub her cheek against his hide almost absently. I...it's not my fault, no, she conceded, the wing farther away from Behruth fluttering slightly -- she often used her wings to gesture, but she didn't want to hit the brown -- But...I'm still sorry. I don't...I don't like it, our Mines being hurt. Tr'esn hadn't experienced much pain, truth be told, but the little indignities -- the rough handling, the harsh words that stung as a Drudge -- were still noted by the green. If you'd like, I can ask him not to talk about it to Yours, the green added even as she contacted Hers.

Mine? Qui? The response was immediate. Behruth...Behruth has told me, the green stated, uncertainly, That His...His was hurt, and so were his clutchmates, and that made him not trust new people. And you...you are a clutchmate to him, and he was scared for you, and when Behruth's is scared he fights. And, Mine? I don't think he would like it if you talked about it, Oquith finished, nodding emphatically even though her head was resting upon Behruth's back, and Hers couldn't see her. I...I...thanks, Qui. Thanks for letting me know.