[PRP] Give the Demon His Due (C'sar/Illi/D'mar/Striggy-kins)

[ShinosBee]

Strigonth paused, one claw still lifted mid-step, to cast a glance back over his wing at the purring bronze behemoth. Even caught up suddenly (though not off-guard, he was never off-guard) he looked perfectly composed, from the precise cant of his head to the slender curving line that ran from his neck, over his back, and down to the lightly-swaying tips of his tail. He and D'mar had been flying, once more. They never missed a chance to perfect their already flawless forms and drills, and shardit if they didn't make each turn, each twist look natural and effortless. The blue still had his riding straps on, and the fuzz of D'mar's hair was hidden beneath a riding cap lined with softest fur. The man paused his step a half beat after Strigonth stopped, his own glance more searching, and less amused.

Why Illy-dilly, how lovely to see you again. Has your rider freshly oiled you, or is it just your own natural sheen, touched by Rukbat herself? Either way, what a display. The blue's straps swayed, metal buckles clinking melodiously as he altered course to wind his way towards bronze and rider. My my, dear brother, I can positively see myself in you. He rumbled like a stalking feline, though his lacked the deep bass of his larger clutchmate.

D'mar was slower to join the pair, watching with interest as C'sar had to unwind himself from his clingy dragon just to cross to meet him. For an instinctive moment he'd wanted to walk on, to continue ignoring both man and bronze as he'd been doing for months now. But Strigonth and he had had words, lately. He knew that though the blue adored him, that he felt they were both above this behavior. And Illiandinth's transgressions were not to be laid at C'sar's feet. Just...on his ledge, perhaps. Outwardly though, his mouth spread into a warm (if sharp) smile. Scarred tissue pulled at the left corner of his lips, across his cheek and down to the corner of his jaw, but if it hurt, no sign of it appeared in the man's expression.

"C'sar! It has been a while, hasn't it? Whatever's gotten you so keen,
hmm?" One hand lifted to cup his riding cap, removing it and tucking it into the crook of his elbow. The other, with all the grace of practice and surety, slapped the other man on his upper arm, gripping just briefly. The warmth of his smile even seemed to reach his eyes. Though of course, given who was talking and being talked to, that was worth as much as a rock painted to look like an egg.

Mx Cherie

 

[ShinosBee]

A ripple of amusement slithered down Strigonth's form; he could tell that the bronze was enjoying the view. If there was one thing Illiandinth was not, that was subtle. He could almost hear the bronze in his mind, 'With my kind of power, who needs subtlety?' That was all fine and well. It suited the larger male, the open gaze and purpled eyes. Even the mild trickle or green and red, because of course, when could Illiandinth ever be anything but a tangle of interlocking pieces that some would find distasteful, managing to work together in otherwise passable harmony? Of course. How lucky you are, to spend each moment looking like you've just stepped out of a pool of scented oils. You'll have the golds wrapped around your claws in a heartbeat, brother. The day the bronze's gaze lacked all trace of wickedness was the day thread claimed them to a one, no doubt. But he was fun enough to go along with.

D'mar, for his part, seemed unfazed by the bronze's chop-licking. He'd glanced his way when the bronze shifted to regard him, but there was no spark of fear or intimidation. Despite all the posturing, the words (which of course Strigonth had relayed), he knew as well as anyone that the bronze was as helpless as a vtol, shackled by his nature as a dragon and by C'sar's stronger will. And despite his cooled relations with the other weyrling, he had no reason to imagine C'sar wished him ill. To that point, Illiandinth could be more or less dismissed from mind. Not forgotten, of course—that much would be foolish—but momentarily disregarded. Let the dragons have their talk, and the men would have their own.

Of more interest was the...speech...C'sar presented him with. The timing felt...strange. It had been ample time now, and though he knew he would never fully put the incident behind him, the immediate tensions between himself and Shahera had cooled (at least to him) into less of a spat and more of a composed and selective state of mutual ignorance. To have it brought back up, as if it were still the freshest piece of gossip, instantly set him on alert. Why now? To what purpose would he say such things?

If nothing else he seemed honest enough. "Agreed...I'd not intended her to dive between him and danger, but simply standing there, watching it charge him..." He could feel the chill of furious terror that'd gripped him the first time he'd found out what had happened. He'd been barely cognizant, in blinding pain, and that had still been the worst part of the night for him. "I'd always taken her for a frivolous thing, hedonistic and uncaring for anything that didn't amuse or please her. To my discredit, I thought better of her than to be so uncaring and cold." He mustered a smile, though he wasn't quite in the mood for it. More smirk, more grimace, really, he shrugged off the lingering vapors of resentment the memories had summoned up in him.

"While I appreciate your opinion on the matter, it was half a lifetime ago. Surely that can't have been your sole purpose in flagging me down, hmm, C'sar?" A thought came then, and he felt a brush from his blue. Caution, D'mar.

"What about you? You've certainly had more interesting things to worry over then my feelings, right? How is Migel doing? I feel like I've not seen him visiting the barracks for some time now. He's not unwell, is he?"

Mr Cheri

 

[ShinosBee]

Ahh, well now. In truth D'mar'd seen enough to know that Migel and C'sar were no longer as...close...as they had been before. But seeing the reaction, well! That settled that. Not good terms at all, no. While D'mar nodded in mute agreement that, indeed, it should be no bother to C'sar what Migel got up to, he filed several thoughts away for later. Just what had so distracted the candidate? Still, this was C'sar's conversation, and he let the other man steer it back to the heading he'd originally set it on. His own footing was much more sturdy now, and that was what mattered.

A snort. "Of course they do. Ever the social butterfly, that one. She could convince a harper that he was singing his own songs wrong." A crinkle formed between his eyes, those razor-sharp brows pinching just slightly. It did bother him that those he had never met, or only spoken to politely, had sided with her over than him, making him out to be some scathing, bitter thing slinging blame wrongfully. Of course, he was all that, barring the last, but that knowledge had been fairly well-kept! Typical Shahera to decide that she knew the truth, and go about spreading it without a care for those she ran down in the process.

And then C'sar was forging ahead, admitting to being tired of being ignored (how terribly interesting, that he seemed more tired of D'mar's coolness now than Migel's!), and his claim to know the bluerider's net words earned him a raised brow of mixed curiosity and amusement. "By Faranth's own egg, C'sar," He half laughed, well and truly amused now. "Respect me despite my cold shoulder, even? Enough to coax a confession of wrongfulness from Shahera herself, enough to come to talk to me about it when you've been distracted enough by your own issues to also have all but ignored me these long months, to the solitary state Shahera seems keen to cultivate around me, me, whom you've just said was in the right of things, and the victim in all this? Oh, indeed, that is respect from you, isn't it?" His own words carried a hint of bitterness, of wounds inflicted long ago and already left to heal wrong too far to be set to rights again. How terribly funny now that C'sar was placing the onus of their lack of communication solely on himself, who'd had so very much else on his plate to deal with, and leave himself none of it despite having had the better health, the better social situation, the better all around time of the previous months.

And then he took a long breath, visibly calming himself, reining himself in. It would do him no good to crush this lone olive branch of peace. The previous months had been...very taxing on him, and he was taking it out on C'sar. Perhaps not unfairly, but...perhaps, yes, unfairly. "...Despite it all, C'sar, I respect you too. Between us, you were the one who approached me first, I admit." In a breath, he felt so much more exhausted. It felt like he and Strigonth had been adrift, alone, isolated for so very long. The casual, ignorant disinterest of their fellows had been the best of attitudes towards them since the hatching, and they had born the isolation as best as they could, yes...but still it had taxed the young man. "Thank you for speaking to her. It's something at least to know that on some level she admits to the wrong. Even if that in turn makes her opinion-raising all the more underhanded."

As for Strigonth, he'd remained as calm and collected as if nothing but the most casual of conversations had passed between his and Illiandinth's riders. The bronze wore his fury on his sleeve, but the blue kept it tucked away inside behind a whirling sheen of greeny-blue. Of course I don't, brother dear. Why, those golds could even bring you to heel, though I cannot, and to wield such power, me? A mere blue? The blue was practically purring, a flick of purple tinting his eyes as he regarded the bronze. Though...you would look ever so perfect, on your belly for me, kneeling at my claws, that perfect furious red in your eyes... Just a whisper into my golds' ears, or the ears of those I've chosen to fly them for me, to pass along...Now, that would be a very pretty thing, indeed, yes. Perhaps I'll even thank you for giving me the idea while I admire the view.

And now it was D'mar's turn to mentally caution the blue against overly provoking the pair.

Mr Cheri

 

[ShinosBee]

The blue huffed, a snort of almost pitying laughter for his brother's ever blunt, ever direct thinking. If I tell my wing to spread, and it does, I am still the one in control. He spread his wing in that moment, casting a long shadow over the flank of his glittering brother. To put the thoughts of my own mind into the minds of others, and have them do my will as if it were their own is the same. Why should I satisfy myself with one set of fangs when I could have two, ten, twenty? The blue's eyes ran red with fire, purple with lust at the very idea, the full depth of his desires and dreams on display for just a moment. Why listen through only two ears when I can have them in every Weyr, every Hold? Why, precious brother, should I satisfy myself with merely your own prostration when I could have all of Pern on their bellies for me, thinking it was their own idea to put me above them in the first place? His long tail flicked, lashing at some distant fantasy laid out in his mind's eye. You dream too small, too personal, brother, to limit yourself to the scope of what you can clutch within your own two claws. But worry not. When all are mine, I'll give those long, lovely claws ample work to keep them wet and sharp.

Much of what C'sar had said, D'mar had to admit to. He could be utterly vicious in his own disregard, heartless, cold, unrelenting. He'd lashed out in his own way in turn, retaliating against all whom he'd perceived as being against him. It was trite, it was basic, and it was beneath him. Looking back now with his head put properly on his shoulders, he almost felt ashamed of his actions towards the man. Almost. Guilt would not serve him now, and would only hinder his future endeavors. He would let himself be informed by the results of his actions, but his time would be better spent moving forward than in dwelling over it. Something he and Shahera seemed to feel differently about.

He could feel the tone of their talk shifting, and he let it go, a trickle of enthusiasm, of confidence and almost excitement to get back into the fray running up his spine. He'd truly needed this talk, a bit of a shake, a slap to the face to come 'round from the malaise he'd lingered too long in. "It is, perhaps, too late to disabuse them of the notion of accepting that one. But I'm certain we can find a use for that behavior. A string to pluck, to play upon." If it took reminding the others of the green's original sin, slaughtering a fellow candidate upon the sands, to tip some of their minds, their hearts, so be it. It could be done subtly, he was sure. And he had to admit that there were few he'd rather play the game with more than C'sar...even if he had impressed the object of D'mar's desire.

Previous desire. You know all the better now.

Indeed. Though perhaps I've gone and rubbed off on you?

Ha! Indeed. For a base, banal creature, he has his charm. A pretty knife, so shiny and sharp.

Mr Cheri