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V’al shuttered at the little green’s displeased chittering. “Gretcha – my mother – had a green like that.” He lowered his hand slowly, still grimacing at the little flit. “The thing was a scratching snit. I’ve no taste love for them myself.” His mother’s little green had been nasty as it had been fat and pampered. Had its scratches not been so fine and easily healed, there would have been several ugly scars on his arms to attest to its overzealous territorial habits. He glanced at the rider, struggling to remove himself from bitter memories to reengage the conversation. He failed sorely.

Lerath tilted his head so the green could perch on his long snout. There, he could close one eye and observe the delicate beauty without going cross-eyed. He snuffed as her tail tickled over his nose without knowing how absurd his curiosity made him look now. I will manage her if you ask my question, Mine, though you really must explain to me your fear of this little one to me later.

V’al shook his head, as if shaking the agitated etchings in his mind. “My Lerath is one for questions. I’ve lost my appetite for intrigue, but he wants to know if you or Yours saw the fight between Alumanth and the bronze.” It was an insensitive question, but V’al hardly seemed a sensitive sort of boy.

V’al’s mouth twitched oddly, though not in condemnation, and he glanced at the small blue dragon idly playing with the firelizard, communicating for a moment. “It’s alight,” he said, turning back with a grunt. “I saw enough of it to describe it to him. He was more interested in your reaction, which he’s satisfied with.” He surveyed the rider, either unaware or indifferent to the their rank difference and the social recklessness of so openly passing judgment on an older rider, guest of the weyr, and man standing on a delicate political web. “I suppose I’ll have to be as well. I heard you and your fellows are leaving soon.”

Kelvari's address to him was very polite and it pleased Cavenath greatly. Certainly, this newly bonded pair would be an excellent representation when they were older - they were already very good. And the whirlwind of questions that Sakath hurled at him just made him warble in amusement even as Kelvari was telling His to slow them down.

'We flew with the rest, no later. After Ianath and Pioth, we took the sky together. I don't know Dannath, but that is right. Some of us need longer for our muscles, flying can make you tired very quick at first. No firestone yet, just flying with Mine and going Between.' Cavenath didn't bother speaking about what Malvren was like, instead he gave Sakath several pictures of his home before informing him that no, he had not yet met any of the Benden dragons, but he wanted to.

Werywoman Erilyn excused herself and left S'raid standing with S'dekai and T'ron, both of whom would politely excuse themselves after a few moments. Once they had all separated, T'ron retreated to find Cavenath and his companions; though he did stop once or twice to seek out Inaari's eyes. He would speak with more people if he had the time, but first...Sakath and His. The tall silverrider strode up to Kelvari and Sakath with an open smile. "Hello, I'm T'ron, this behemoth's rider." He patted his dragon's shoulder and reached up to scritch at the lowered head's eye ridges. "Cav says that Yours is called Sakath."

'Sakath has lots of questions, but I told him he would be big and strong like me. The most important part. And Oiling, yes. But His is smart, so this will be no problem.' Puffed up like a prince or a peacock, he was absolutely certain that he knew this would be true. Because he said so.

He’s not drooling over her death. Lerath said singularly to His and with a snuff and gentle toss of his head, sent the flitt aloft.

If all the Benden riders had been so reserved in their opinions against alternates, your mother would still be alive. This man’s voice is only one among many. Influential, as a rider, but hardly indicative of the whole. Presuming he’s perfectly truthful, it still leaves the other riders and healers unaccounted for. V’al mind crafted harsh, blunt words, but thankfully the bond with his dragon did the better part of communicating. He wasn’t one to speak of love, nor was he prone to coddling, but Lerath never doubted his faith. At Val’s best, when the two were alone, he could express relief that he didn’t have to mold himself into shapes of common affection that seemed to gall him, that a simple pat or word of praise now and then or wordless flood of affection made his adoration expressible.

Even now, as Lerath huffed the lizard away, V’al laid a hand across the back of the dragon’s head in gentle approval. Formidable? That was one way to put it. “We both enjoy seeing things through to the finish.

“You’ve runner blood, hmm?” he prompted, guessing from the man’s second referral to running and his lanky body. “I’m Hold born, myself. Makes Weyrs feel strange.

F'ren shrugged again, "i'm sure you'll see more of her as she gets bigger, i swear she does every day" he said, grimmacin at the almost constant oiling she needed at least twice a day, at least that's what she insisted on anyway, as soon as they woke, and before they slept.

As he and Relys made their way through the mourners to the tables where the butcher was standing he heard Relys' comment "she's after some raw meat, she doesn't much like the cooked meat, but she likes it fresh too" he said. Toulonth made it to the tables and she creeled at the butcher, her eyes whirling slightly red with her hunger. Mine, hurry tell the man that i want him to cut some meat for me, i want it really fresh, pleeease! F'ren explained to the man, as well as Relys what it was she wanted exactly, which she duly recieved.

Despite the hard reservation of the new bluerider, he was still a boy, and his mouth twitched in echo of a smile. The tension around his eyes eased as well. “I think my new training is going to keep me busy for a while yet, but I was a leatherworking apprentice before I was Searched. I’d like to keep up with that, as much as I can anyway. Suppose it could work” He made a nod to the older man’s lean form. “You still look a runner.”

V’al made a thoughtful noise. He considered using his crafting to make extra marks on the side, selling it to other riders, but he didn’t say so for fear of sounding foolish. He’d see in time.

He nodded in agreement about staying trim as well. Not that a dragon couldn’t bear the extra weight, but he doubted any beast would let his rider’s gut go without mention. “I’m sure you’ll want to return to the northern climate. Speaking of which, do you know if those healers found out what they were after?”