[PRP] Poking the Sleeping Dragon (Sabina & Dezerac)

[Meepfur]

The pair was impossible to miss. As if the dragon hadn't been bright enough, the rider had found it necessary to dye her hair a ridiculous color. If he had to guess - and of course he did - she was likely overfond of attention. Why she had decided she wanted attention from him, he couldn't say. There were plenty of other weyrlings she could have bothered, and though he was among the more serious (mature, as he preferred to think of it), he wasn't the only one.

Whatever the reason she'd singled him out, if she was looking for amusement, he wasn't going to give it to her so easily. He simply nodded polite acknowledgement as she approached, and answered, "To oil Vedmath."

No excuses necessary: with all the growing Vedmath was doing, the battle to keep his hide from cracking was neverending. The young bronze in question was glad enough to see Keziath, and thrummed out a pleasant greeting for the bubbly green. The intentions and motivations of Hers were bewildering, but he'd found nothing objectionable yet about the green they occasionally shared lessons with.

Mx Cherie

 

[Meepfur]

Polite refusal was imminent - he was perfectly capable of oiling his own dragon, thank you, and would be even once he'd reached his full size - but Vedmath interrupted this intention with a pleading look. While Hers might be vexing, whether for the reasons His guessed or otherwise, Keziath was wonderfully friendly, and he enjoyed her company very much. I would like to speak further with Keziath, he entreated, soulful eyes whirling blue-green as he gazed upon his rider. Might we? Please?

The look Dezerac could have given him was withering, but as they were in company, he made do with a feeling of exasperation. He would much prefer to tend to his dragon in peace, absent distractions, but alas, that dragon had other ideas. He could have said no regardless, and he knew Vedmath would have accepted that, but the bronze was the one soft spot he had. If this was the company he wanted to keep today, then Dezerac would endeavour to tolerate it, although he was naturally suspicious of the offer to help. Help was a concept the self-sufficient man was still getting used to, even from slightly more known quantities like L'nik. From Sabina, he was certain there was an ulterior motive of some kind, even if it wasn't a nefarious one.

"I can handle it," he replied, so that she might think for a moment that he was going to refuse (and he was still very tempted to), "But if you've nothing better to do." He shrugged casual assent.

Good morning, Keziath! Vedmath crooned, broad wings flaring out in response to her compliment. I am sorry to hear that the bronzes you were acquainted with before did not know how to conduct themselves properly. Are they there still, or did they leave as you did? If the former, it would be filed away to be dealt with. One day.

Mx Cherie

 

[Meepfur]

With a wordless sound of agreement - scrubbing weyrs was not the most appealing task - he continued on his path to the lake with the unasked-for company in tow.

Red flashed into Vedmath's eyes at Keziath's words, accompanied by an ominous rumble that got him a curious, quirked-eyebrow look from his rider as the bronze bristled at the information offered. That is a horrible thing to say, and not so! It went far past mean and into deeply wrong, and he was greatly disturbed to hear it. If they are trying to start again, they should be stopped before they have a chance to take hold.

If only he were grown, and further along in his training...! He would go and stop them! Dezerac sent a soothing thought his way. There was nothing they could do now, and no use getting riled up in the meantime. Vedmath could add to to his list of injustices to be corrected, which was slowly growing the more he learned of the world outside of Western, expanding beyond keeping an eye on his problem clutchmates.

For Sabina, the man had another shrug. "And what if it has?"

Mx Cherie

 

[Meepfur]

I'm sure it can be done, all that is required is will and means, he thrummed, giving it deep thought. In his understanding, it was a difficult age for WeyrHolds, so perhaps with the right push in the right place, from the inside... While he thought, he settled himself comfortably, positioned with the convenience of his oilers in mind. It was quite a routine process by now, although to have an additional pair of hands was new.

The removal of the greenrider's tunic was noted, but not lingered upon. Not that it could have been, at this stage in their weyrlinghood, but the loss of one layer of clothing wouldn't have gotten a second look out of him regardless. Maybe from some of his younger classmates. Dezerac set down hia bucket of supplies and shed his own shirt as well, though it was consigned to the ground for the time being. As frequently as Vedmath needed oiling, he'd ruin an absurd number of shirts otherwise. The pants couldn't be helped.

"Such as?" he inquired dryly. "My former profession didn't exactly rely on looks." More on the ability to take punishment and give it back, which was fairly evident on his skin...although the most impressive marks had all come courtesy of Vedmath's sister. "Most of the uses I'm familiar with are currently off-limits."

There really was a sense of humor in there, deadpan though it was.

Mx Cherie

 

[Meepfur]

Vedmath dipped his head in confirmation, then kept it low so that His might begin his task there, sighing happily over the attentions that came with being oiled. Be wary of Illiandinth, he advised, And Strigonth. They are both overfond of power. And of themselves.

"The good ones do rather well for themselves, don't they?" They made quite a bit more than any number of other professions, he'd wager. Of course, the ones who made that much had prettier words for themselves, but the original still applied. "I suppose if I'd aged out, I wouldn't have lacked for options," he said with another shrug.

"Not far off," he answered. "Mercenary." Not that he hadn't been in a pit once or twice, but nowhere near enough to count it as an occupation. Something to do between jobs, or for utter lack of something better to do. It was still marks, and practice.

Mx Cherie

 

[Meepfur]

"Company," was the simple answer, with just the slightest guarded edge to the tone. That was a subject line that was rarely embellished with further detail, regardless of who was asking, as it bled far too easily into talk of family, and that he preferred to ignore. Money and whores, however, were perfectly acceptable topics. "Not so different from mercenary work, in that regard; steadier work with a company, bigger jobs, but everything gets divvied up."

"Bit of both," he confirmed, steadily working his way down Vedmath's length with special attention for all the worst spots. "And it's something to do between jobs." Mercenaries did not handle idelness and boredom well, suffice to say.

Vedmath shifted his weight, leaning one way or the other into their ministrations. This was very, very nice! Western is different, the bronze attempted to assure his green friend, Though not all of my siblings are worthy of its ideals.

Mx Cherie

 

[Meepfur]

"Whore, pit fighter...imagine the sort of marks you could make combining the two." On the other side of Vedmath, Dezerac gave a soft snort, and there might even have been the very slightest twitch of a smile, but it was more than safely obscured by the bulk of weyrling dragon between them. It was odd to think that said weyrling dragon was likely only just past half-grown, and already larger than no few adult dragons. The rate at which he'd grown was simply staggering...hence the frequent, ever more time-consuming oilings. "Perhaps I missed my true calling when I settled for dragonrider."

They will be as they are. Vedmath rumbled irritation at the thought of his more selfish siblings. But they will not be allowed to cause trouble. I will keep an eye on them. Both, if necessary. Just take care. They can be very charming when they want to be.

Mx Cherie