Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Look. They watch us with dagger eyes. They long to stab and to slash and to rip. They should thank us for this, the unity we bring them in their hate. It was not I that fought and tore and slew, yet their hate is no less for me or you."

"Mmm..." F'itz dipped the brush into the oil before shaking off the excess and raising it to a rough patch on his partner's flank, looking out towards the central complex of the Weyr. "Sharding fool," he muttered after a moment, "as if our position here wasn't bad enough and to kill a dragon with a clutch... I don't know what to think of these strange colours, but there was no excuse for that."

"Mmm... What say all of you now?" Brumath addressed any of his fellow Benden dragons who might be nearby. "Is what we were send here worth the green blood of a strange red dragon? Where is the heart of it all? Do you see that truth? Do you feel it beast inside you? Have you been told, or discovered it yourself? Why do we lie here in the heat, couriers for healers to stare at a foreign gold and her clutch, and that clutch whose mother will never greet them? Why are we here? What do you know?"

This is a disaster. Primath noted, hotly. She'd been sufficiently discontent being here in the first place, annoyed by the prestige of the Atypes, which she personally was unlikely to ever attain as a green, however much her build might resemble that of a miniature gold. Me and Mine are not privy to knowing; and the not knowing is like adding a mouthful of maggots to an bad mouthful of meat.

"They could have picked a slightly less argumentative pair to lead this outing..." B'tar added, a bit edgily, following F'itz gaze toward the central complex. The savage glares, the raw emotions, even though he and Primath weren't directly to blame for the disaster, made him feel like he were constantly standing on a target. "We've just cost them a rider, and a dragon... a clutching dragon no less... and I'm surprised they haven't motioned to throw us out altogether."

I could have done better. Primath added, not terribly subtly, with a cocky tilt of her head. But apparently you have to lack the strength to get out of your own shell to have any worth if you're not a bronze.

"Primath!" B'tar protested, thumping her on the shoulder with his own brush as her eyes flashed red-orange. "Lets worry about that later, when people aren't looking to stake the lot of us out, please. Shards though... I'm surprised someone didn't get knifed in the corridors after that..."

He wiped sweat from his forehead with his other arm, frowning distractedly at the annoyance. The heat, humidity, and sweat didn't do his wavy hair any favors.

As Galvanth relayed the other dragons' words, S'raid's brow furrowed. "This bears thinking." The opportunity presented at Trine Weyr had been too good to be ignored. And truly, there was no one else to step in to fill the disgraced Bronze's shoes. It was, perhaps, predictable that rather than being made heavy with grief, Galvanth's rider was considering the possibilities. "They have," he said, contemplating the matter. "Reasons. Surely they would not wish us to linger after such an event if they did not. As such, I propose that we seek, rather than to further the discontent among us, to consider our options." To stabilize their claim, for a claim it was.

Finally, S'raid looked up. "What happened to the ... Atypical," he said, choosing his words very carefully,"-- Was unfortunate. We must foster a sense of stability if we are to remain here. We cannot ignore the events that sent this Weyr spinning into chaos, and we owe them our assistance in whatever capacity we can provide. Currently, we serve a function. Do you think that they will send their dragons, their riders out to ferry the healers? No. This is not something they want, but is perhaps something they need."

Someone should be looking into the Atypical dragons. Someone ought to determine why other Golds failed, and the Trine Gold succeeded. Leave it to S'raid to be concerned with what the dragons were saying, rather than their riders-- but then, did dragons not have an enormous sway over them? No clutching mother should have been aroused to such disastrous consequences. Even the Atypical dragons had uses. Culling them would not serve the Weyr. Galvanth... did not entirely agree. They have no place, he informed his rider, particularly irate and agitated after such a devastating loss.

Their place is beneath us, Galvanth, but I will find a use for them, in time. Never fear. He was always able to find uses for new tools that presented themselves. Even Galvanth, however, could not escape the distress of a lost clutching female, and he was outraged, and outraged by his outrage. "It was pure foolishness on the rider's part, to engage in combat with another rider, let alone one whose dragon had a clutch on the sands. We will not repeat that mistake. I want to see no escalations, and I think I can expect that of all of you." He knew that he had little to fear with most of his fellow riders. "And we will pay our respects, of course."

We should stay. We should not allow this to drive us off. There was a stubbornness in the Bronze's tone that displayed how thoroughly he disapproved of being 'under the heel' of lesser dragons. To have Atypes influencing how he would act, where he would go... that was not acceptable. The Bronze's gaze swung swiftly to Green Primath, and his eyes whirled a swifter, orangeish hue. They have no greater worth, Primath. They have only styled themselves so. Her comment touched on something that bothered him deeply, and S'raid clamped down on his dragon's anger. I will remain behind to ferry healers, if you wish to leave. It was clear, then, that he addressed all of the dragons.

Then people shouldn't act like it. this seemed obvious enough, to the opinionated green. And I have no plans on retreating from them while we are doing our duty.

"Unfortunate. That's a polite choice of words..." B'tar snorted, softly. He wasn't entirely sure he agreed with S'raid, or not as the man intended. Trine seemed to be thriving, he doubted they 'needed' the healers. If anyone needed the information they were scurrying around getting, it wasn't Trine. "I'm just not sure if they'll find what they're looking for. It is... odd though, that they're doing so well clutching golds. You don't think that they... the healers I mean... think it's because they have the atypes do you?" He asked, though he was fairly sure this was about as effective as asking the man what he thought about a starchart. S'raid wasn't useless, not by a long stretch, but every man had his realms of expertise, and S'raid's thoughts on Atypes clearly didn't wander so far as to be curious on how they might relate to anything else in Trine.
"Stop picking fights, Pri." he warned, out loud, his tone getting more serious. My sweet, we're already in enough of a mess because of one Bronze and his rider getting too hot blooded, please? He added, attempting to cajole her, and she turned her irritated stare away from the much larger Bronze with a snort that absolutely reeked of 'Sour grapes'.

Anyway. It's a disaster. Show them how a bronze is supposed to act. She baited, still impish.

“We will stay,” R'vik said quietly from his position on the ground. He waved one of his half-cleaned running shoe in the air, indicating their surroundings, “Xalth and I agree that running away isn't the best option. Even running around isn't ideal either, or possible.” The former runner added bitterly, shifting his attention back to cleaning his shoe. On the day of the incident, both of them disappeared immediately after their morning ferry duties were performed: R'vik to go run and Xalth to fly overhead.

When Brakiath roared, however, Xalth was quick to land and claim His, waiting for the skies to clear before returning to the Weyr. Neither of them have left the Benden area, R'vik not wanting to add further tension or mistrust to Trine's current view on Benden and Xalth not wanting His to be alone without him. Even though the recent turn of events practically guaranteed that neither R'vik or Xalth were required to do anything, Xalth preferred to relax and not do anything on his terms.

Xalth shifted his gaze from Galvanth to Brumath and back. I do not pity them, Xalth confided to His before continuing, More eyes will be watching, more waiting. I hope this is over soon. I do not like to be tied down by words, mine, especially ones as heavy as Brumath's.

R'vik set down his running shoe and leaned back, looking up at His. Me neither, Xalth. But until this clears up, we better not run or fly any sky-paths. What is Brumath going on about?

The spotted blue glanced to Brumath, then to Primath and Yvoth as they spoke. Brumath speaks riddles. I think he wants to stay here until the Hatching, he told his rider gloomily, Or that he wants to go home as soon as they hatch. Or leave now? I do not know. To be brown must be hard, to think and speak as such like that. He snorted, shifting his laying position slightly to accommodate His leaning against his shoulder.

R'vik threw an admiring glance to K'la. How did she manage to keep her hair looking that good? “What do you mean, B'tar?” he asked, looking away from the female greenrider. “Do you think the healers are more interested in the atypes than what they're running around for...?”

"Good. None of us can afford to allow this to come to blows once more." No one could. Even S'raid-- especially S'raid-- could see that. "I don't expect that we will be the ones to strike first, if striking there comes to be. Have your words out. Keeping them pent in will do us no good, and have the potential to do a great deal of harm. But let them only be words... and better yet, only among ourselves. You don't need to hear this, of course... but I think I need the reminder." His temper flared hot on the very rare occasion that it was moved at all. And then from hot, it progressed to a cool burn, one that simmered over time.

I always show them how a Bronze is meant to act. Galvanth said smoothly, recovering some of his aplomb with the continued distance from the Trine dragons. The separation was, to his mind, a good thing. Nothing good could come of treating Runts and Duds as though they were useful, viable members of society-- no matter what S'raid said.

The rider in question leveled his gaze on B'tar, and considered him. "A polite choice of words, yes. Not the most evocative, perhaps, but we must strive for professionalism here. It will be improper in the coming sevendays." And then the man sounded so doubtful that it was almost insulting. He... didn't, wasn't insulted. No. "I've considered it, yes. I've considered the possibility that it is the Atypicals that the healers believe to be the key in Trine's success. And who would not? Other than the climate, they are the stand alone anomaly here."

Everything else fell into a pattern, every piece fit into place. The Atypicals, useful or not useful, did not belong in that pattern. The healers would not have been so interested in them if they hadn't thought them a part of what made Trine flourish. I still maintain that they have no place anywhere, and you will not find one, Galvanth observed stubbornly and privately to S'raid.

"I agree. I think that we must stay to mend things as we may, if it can be done. And it would be running, tail between our legs. We are not criminals, for being of Benden." It was high time Trine Weyr learned that very fact. "The more they see us, the more they will realize that we are not all bent on destroying what they have built." Some, in fact, were bent on shaping it.

He felt the need to address each and every concern to the best of his ability. Was this not a time when communication would be most vital? He nodded to R'vik, who chose to hold his words far more than any of the others... was he waiting for something, or had his final question been the most vital matter, to his mind? Ah, S'raid. So constantly assessing his fellow riders. He would do with a self assessment, truly.

Suddenly, his eyes were on D'vas. "A message? To the healers?" Jivith, it is well that you have thought of this thing... though next time you should think of it first, Galvanth said, only a little testily. What else did the nuisances say? S'raid concealed a smile. Yes, Galvanth would consider firelizards nuisances. They were beneath him, after all... arrogant dragon. "So they'e found progress, have they?" It was both a question and an answer, and more of a riddle than ever Brumath had made.

K’la glanced at R’vik as she was working out her hair, then D’vas, but she arched a brow and looked away from each with the same slightly haughty expression. She did love men truly, even the younger ones that took liberties with their eyes. Better to play coy though. She was Hold bred, and outside of her Yvoth rising, she was known to be a relentless tease toward men.

Her dragon chirruped in soft laughter and lowered her head to eye K’la with a winking eye until the conversation being volleyed around grew more serious. K’la shook her hair a last time and threw it over her shoulder, focusing now.

I do not think they like seeing us at all anymore. The Trine dragons will not even speak with me now, Yvoth told her rider in a private and gloomy tone when S’raid made his case for staying. K’la patted her green’s head soothingly. You haven’t done anything wrong, dear. We’ll go home eventually and you won’t have to worry about it anymore. Out loud she said slowly, "I rather doubt that they're letting us stay out of fear. Not after what happened to that crimson-" she waved a hand vaguely to pass quietly over that incident, "-and not after what they think we're here for. Yvoth has heard some of the wild theories the people in Trine have been producing. One of them..." She shook her head with a incredulous look. "Well, it's rather unpleasant - that we want to steal their eggs. If they really think that I'd expect they're more angry than fearful."

And what was that bit about leeches? Was it code or a direct meaning. K’la sighed, feeling she had no skill for this sort of secretive nonsense. B’tar was making some sense at least. She rather liked the man, though Yvoth usually shied away from his dragon, Primath. “I don’t see how atypicals existing could affect a queen’s fertility. Most of them don’t even rise, do they? And, don’t get me wrong,” she continued in a deferring, sweet was as is she just remembered her femininity, “I like the idea of bringing one to see if it affect a queen’s clutch, but could be hard to do that without difficulties. Better to ask the healers, as you’ve said.”

Ouch, R'vik winced inwardly as K'la looked away. Looks like someone has airs higher than Primath today. A pity, looks like I won't uncover her hair secrets anytime soon. He offered a shrug that grew into a stretch, reaching up as high as he could before folding his hands behind his head. His feet followed suit, his left ankle resting on top of his right. It's pretty nice here – it's not often that I get to be barefoot during the day.

Mine, I think we should pay more attention, Xalth scolded privately, Jivith has been keeping himself out of trouble with the Greens here by chasing the flits instead. I do not like this. We may be asked to investigate this further.

What, how the Atypes increase fertility? Personally, I'm starting to wonder if it's our bronzes that are the source of the problem...

Xalth's green eyes whirled briefly with a shot of light blue laughter. I do not think Galvanth will appreciate that, mine! Let us keep that to ourselves, and listen further.

As the talk continued, R'vik resisted the urge to chew his lip. Bring an Atype to the Weyr? Bring a Benden Queen here? He was stuck on the fence, and he didn't like sharing his own opinion. He didn't like the attention, either – his vanity stemmed from the want and need to fit in, to blend into the crowd. At least he wore a shirt today, nevermind that it was soaked with sweat at the sharding heat of Trine; his wingmates didn't need to see his pitiful attempts to develop a tan there.

Mine, Xalth told R'vik, I am not an expert or anything, but before you agree... Do you remember what happened a few days ago when a Benden bronzerider had a few things to say about a certain scarlet dragon?

The bluerider jolted upright. Considering what happened, if we approach the healers and ask... Oh no. That would be like running a message during Threadfall! "I agree that maybe the atypes have something to do with it," R'vik broke in, quickly, "But, er, shouldn't we think about this more? Trine isn't happy with us, and asking them for an Atype given with what's recently happened to an atype... I don't think it would work out well." He scratched the back of his head, delaying, "Wouldn't it be easier for a Benden queen to visit here or something? Though -"

Poor Galvanth is here, mine. Pray do not inflate his ego to make him or His remember us and give us work. Xalth privately said, briefly flexing his wings.

"Though we would need to speak with the Weyrleaders directly, and for that, we might need to first go back to Benden and talk to them first. And by 'we' I mean you. I'm just a messenger." He reached down and indicated his old Runner belt for emphasis.