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 Posted: Tue Dec 07, 2010 11:12 am
These barbarians always went for the face. J'aro lifted his hand to hold his, to apply pressure to the very place he'd been struck. He shifted his eyes to the left, to the right, and he saw them. The faces of the rider's on this floor. They were angry.
Angry their sleep had been interrupted.
They were curious.
Curious about the racket these newcomers brought.
They were surprised.
So surprised their Whitemaster had been assaulted that easily. The whiteriders and white candidates alike had more and more self-defense training every turn. They needed it; those against the new colors could, at times, be violent.
J'aro had been outright attacked by an angry mob after the Rulie incident.
"Get back to your weyrs," he demanded, cracking his jaw.
For many people, that was enough. Not everyone. Not even adding a more aggressive "now" could do the trick for one of the uppity bronzeriders.
"Why don't you get back to your weyr and stop making so much noise?! I'm sick of you whiteriders pushing everyone around!"
"Let's just go," the softspoken greenrider at his side pleaded. There were rumors about those two being together, and they wouldn't be the only are-they-aren't-they couple to be featured in the daily gossip once word of this got out.
"Now!" J'aro barked. "Or else I have all of you and your dragons doing drudge labor for the next sevenday! You think those whers are lowly compared to you?! Just wait for the work I'll pile on if I see any of you out here after I count to ten!"
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Posted: Tue Dec 07, 2010 2:52 pm
Ahh.
So that was what he was on about, being the terrorist and what not. The majority of the riders didn't think twice about disobeying, with the exception of one pair. F'sey didn't recognized him, but assumed him to be a bronzerider. (He always assumed the troublemakers to be bronzeriders. Give a boy a bronze, and suddenly he thinks he's the Weyrleader.) What surprised the greenrider, however, was how none of them seemed to bat an eye about J'aro being punched in the face. Was he really that disliked? (Given, it was something F'sey had wanted to do since they met, but he had thought the man's own Weyr might be a little more affectionate towards him.)
Ah, well. What did he care?
Shaking his hand a little, the redhead never took his steely gaze off the younger rider. "Ah, well. You've caused a scene. Is that enough attention for today, or do you need to continue squalling like a child who misses his creche mother?"
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Posted: Tue Dec 07, 2010 3:16 pm
J'aro wouldn't say he stared him down, but he did stare at him. F'sey was F'sey, and F'sey was a temperamental little thing; spend an hour with him, let alone a week, and anyone would know. It wasn't as if J'aro expected him to scamper away like a fearful rabbit. He knew damn well he'd meet his gaze with just as much... shards, what was this even? They probably weren't feeling the same thing - or just not the same amounts of each emotion.
The riders were gone, leaving only them, their breath the glows.
Silence.
J'aro let his hand fall and relaxed his shoulders. He sighed softly, aiming the burst of exhaled air upward so it swayed his bangs. And still he watched him. Just watched.
Some kind of mind game?
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Posted: Tue Dec 07, 2010 3:27 pm
...what was going on?
F'sey had expected some sort of trouble for punching the whitemaster. A scolding, at the very least. He didn't get away with abuse even as a Weyrlingmaster; why would an alien greenrider get any preferential treatment at all? Nothing about this sharding island made sense. No wonder it was known as 'Nowhere Island'. No one wanted to be here.
"...well," he started, clearing his throat and flexing his hand again. "If you're quite done, J'aro, you should go." F'sey would be quick to follow, but he was not so eager to let the conniving whiterider lurk around B'lin's weyr after he left. His former student had already shown himself completely incapable of exerting any kind of force, even to get his way. It almost made him more frustrating than the usual bronzerider, in that he just wouldn't...wouldn't...well, the wingrider couldn't quite his finger on it, but the youth was discouraging him at an unusually high rate.
He did not address the young man in question; in fact, F'sey did his best to not even think of the Wingleader. He was hopeless. It would be healthiest to cut his losses and carry one.
...it would be best, wouldn't it?
"Well? What are you waiting for, the sun to rise? Go on, get!"
It was a shame he couldn't listen to his better sensibilities. Damn emotions, getting in the way of everything.
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Posted: Tue Dec 07, 2010 3:43 pm
J'aro clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and rocked back on his heels. He didn't turn on them, though. No intention of doing that. He flat out ignored the demand. This was his place to control and F'sey was a cute bird with ruffled feathers hopping around shrieking at everyone, lunging at those that dared to get too close. Lashing out at anyone near him, regardless of if he'd approached first, just because they were in 'his' space.
Not without his own bad habits, J'aro couldn't shake the thrill of having a new, interesting pair of people to decode. To break down their behavior until it made sense just provided hour upon hour of slightly masochistic recreation.
It had been a long time since they'd had strangers in the Weyr, and longer still since they'd been anything out of the ordinary. Forgive him, common sense, but he just couldn't leave them alone. Curiosity was all his sorry life had left that felt real.
"Are you afraid he won't fly again or are you afraid that he will?"
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Posted: Tue Dec 07, 2010 3:57 pm
There was too much pressure. In normal situations, F'sey put up so much armor than no one dared get too close. He'd relax the spines for those that did, but even then, what little friends he had knew better than to prod at his soft spots. Well. If they even know the tyrannical monstrosity had weaknesses. (There were not so much squishy places as they were chinks in the armor he'd constructed after turns and turns of descending into something frosty and dark. It was never called denial, because to call it denial was to acknowledge there'd been something to deny.)
"It's none of my business. What B'lin chooses to do with his life has nothing to do with me." How did he know? Of course he'd always be afraid the bronzerider would fall again, but.
"A teacher never wants his student to fail. I'm sure he'll come around. He's just slow."
F'sey risked a sidewards glance, trying to find the rider in question. He had to stop being so selfish. (But if he didn't...) "Any other questions, J'aro?"
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Posted: Tue Dec 07, 2010 4:15 pm
J'aro contemplated how long this could last before he answered. 'This' being the show these people put on. They were truly likable characters for his real time drama, sure to entice him for a sevenday or two to come. Alas, he also paid tithe to reality.
"No, that was it." He did turn then, and said something strange: "We all have our roles to play. You'll forgive me."
F'sey would hopefully catch onto the underlined meaning when the wherhandlers arrested him the next day for assault of a guard and threw him in holding.
But, for now, the Whitemaster was out of sight, out of mind; B'lin was just out of sight.
Xanthoth was still perched on the lookout attached to his weyr, so he must have been around the front of his dragon.
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Posted: Tue Dec 07, 2010 4:27 pm
Forgive him. Tcht. Honestly, the audacity of some of these youngsters.
Shaking his head, F'sey folded his arms across his chest as he glanced around the dimly lit weyr. Where had B'lin gotten off to? Xanthoth was still on his perch, so he couldn't have left...he must be with the bulky bronze. He had mentioned oiling the princely creature, hadn't he?
"B'lin? B'lin, you can come out now. The arguing has stopped." Flexing his sore hand, the former Weyrlingmaster craned his neck, trying to spot the elusive rider. "Come on, then. Don't sulk like a weyrbrat who's been kicked out of the creche."
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Posted: Wed Dec 08, 2010 12:19 pm
B'lin had heard them. Anyone with a working ear had heard them, and he wouldn't be surprised if that deaf kitchen worker a few floors down had felt the stomping of feet and bodies being thrown against the wall. (She hadn't, but it didn't matter; she would have assumed them from other things to be on the safe side and left well enough alone. There were a lot of greenriders in this Weyr.)
Every time something like this happened he swore he'd never be as beset by embarrassment again. Every time. When one brother got caught stealing, he'd thought never again. When Bakin had broken down and cried - in public - he heard that echo.
Never again, it said.
B'lin knew now the difference between being flustered and being ashamed - being shameful. A shameful rider and a shameful man. The heights made him nervous and for that he was not alone. He knew others. What took a knife to his self-esteem, the thing that left it in shreds, was his reaction.
He should have broken them up or... something. Done anything. But he hadn't. He'd oiled Xanthoth and when it got to be too much, sat beside his dragon's right, front leg and stayed there.
Blocked it all out.
Pretended it was gone.
"Don't sulk like a weyrbrat who's been kicked out of the creche."
Dare he speak?
His voice cracked near the end, but he did. "I don't really understand that. I never met a lot of...those kids."
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Posted: Wed Dec 08, 2010 12:55 pm
"Oh, shut up, you wherrie-brained git."
F'sey liked to consider himself a patient man. He tolerated the idiots (slightly, which was more than he thought they deserved) and survived Cheoth's weyrlings (which was more than fair to ask of any one person, he'd come to decide). He put up with J'aro's antics (putting aside the fact he'd just punched the man in face), and before him, he'd put up with S'kagi, and before that, well. There were always uppity bronzeriders in his life that needed to be dealt with.
And then, there was B'lin. He was quickly reaching the end of his rope.
"Come out here right now, B'lin. I'm not going to go in there and catch you. And don't give me 'I don't really understand that.' You know and I know what sulking means. You can put the rest of it together, can't you? Now, you were the one all gung-ho about coming to this forsaken island and becoming the Wingleader you were always meant to be. I was the one who insisted you weren't ready yet, but here we are. So, are you going to keep hiding from the arguing adults and prove me right, or are you going to grow a pair and get back on your sharding dragon and prove that mouthy, no-good white rider wrong?"
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Posted: Wed Dec 08, 2010 1:13 pm
F'sey needed to be mesmerized by a student more satisfactory for the lead role in a feel-good sports movie. They would have jumped to their feet and shouted, 'Shards, you're right! Let's do this!' They would get their gear, climb atop their bronze and ride off into the night. In their acceptance speech for Wingleader (they'd exist in this scenario), they'd shed a single manly tear and thank their mentor for all of it.
What a splendid affair it would be.
Since he'd chosen to give B'lin his 'close rapport with student card', he got a grunt - or something - and a scowling, sluggish bronzerider rounding the width of his dragon.
So much for those cure-all inspiration speeches.
But when all hope seemed lost, B'lin restored it with a sincere voice and a single question: "What do you want me to do?"
What he said was less powerful than what he meant.
Said: What do you want me to do?
Meant: How do I do this? You're my teacher. I don't know how to do this.
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Posted: Wed Dec 08, 2010 1:34 pm
"B'lin. Come here."
How hard was it, shouting across the weyr? This should be a private affair, between weyrling and master, student and mentor, wingrider and Wingleader. But when it looked like the dark-skinned man was not going to leave Xanthoth's side, F'sey approached instead, watching the dragon warily before joining his student by the dragon's front leg. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder and watched him for a minute.
"This isn't about me, B'lin," he said, grey eyes scanning the bronzerider's face. "This is about you, and Xanthoth. While what you went through was terrifying, it wasn't random. It wasn't a freak accident. Your straps were ill cared for, and you were being stubborn. As long as you take care of yourself and your things, it's unlikely that will happen again." He patted the boy's shoulder before removing his hand.
"It boils down to one thing. Do you want to be Wingleader, or don't you?"
Are you a coward, or will you be brave?
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Posted: Wed Dec 08, 2010 1:52 pm
B'lin didn't want to 'go there'. He wanted to stay where he was - away. The... ugh, did he have to say it? The preference for men problem -- issue - oh, for Farnath's sake! F'sey's habit - preference! - of.. dating. Right. His preference for dating men didn't keep him away. He just didn't want to be stared at and physically comforted by anyone.
Just trying to watch Xanthoth was futile. Looking at your dragon was looking at a part of yourself. How could he lift his gaze to anyone else when he couldn't stare in the mirror? It was like a coward lifting his weapon for a battle he knew he'd lose.
Xanthoth had no problem observing either of them and snorted when F'sey surveyed him. Not as long or as carefully as B'lin, he noticed.
B'lin, the young man who scratched at the front of his fingers and mumbled, "I'll ride first thing tomorrow."
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Posted: Wed Dec 08, 2010 2:06 pm
I'll believe it when I see it.
"Very well. Be safe, B'lin." F'sey didn't touch him again. He'd always assumed it was the gay that he looked to avoid, and the greenrider left well enough alone. Holdborn, so stubborn sometimes. Once he lapsed into a steady silence, the former Weyrlingmaster finally shrugged, and took a step back.
"Get some sleep," he finally added with a heavy sigh, turning to finally vacate the Wingleader's room. His shoulders slumped a bit, he folded his arms behind the small of his back and made his retreat.
He was exhausted. Sometimes he wondered why he'd ever thought he'd be able to keep up with B'lin.
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