Sticks and Stones [M] (All welcome)

B'jin had woken early, at Larrikith's insistence, in order to bath both himself and her. The children, which had stayed the night, were returned home, alongside Indamor's blue riding mother; she had been a more regular presence after Talian's little ordeal had set B'jin to shoving her in his home to watch the children that night. None the less, the woman had been a surprising visitor, lingering after the children had been settled, in order to offer B'jin a form of comfort he hadn't realised he'd appreciate quite as much as he had. He wasn't really worried about the upcoming lashing, firmly believing that D'ren was taking the course of action in a far showier fashion than a serious one. He'd been thankful none the less of a warm and familiar body, oddly content with the fact that she came with no ties and enjoyed their easy going time together as much as he did. Larrikith had been pleased to see her rider loosening up and enjoying himself without her needing to insinuate something. She would have to make a note to thank Ayyonth and his for opening the flood gate, when things were less fanatic.

As a result, when the little green landed lightly in the sunny Gather Square at Noon, the rider that slid from her neck held his body with an easy, relaxed grace. The mark R'nd had left on the side of his neck was just starting to fade, but stood out starkly against his lightly tanned skin, perhaps more so to those that knew of the greenrider's previously 'unobtainable' status, and the fact Larrikith wasn't due to fly for another month. Dressed in his dragonriding leathers, the hides obviously new and well cared for, B'jin unbuckled his jacket, revealing a long sleeved white shirt underneath, and placed the leather delicately over Larrikith's neck as the small dragon rumbled softly, obviously speaking to B'jin at the same time, though whatever she was saying wasn't given away by either rider nor dragon. B'jin stroked her nose for a moment, before turning his attention upon S'kef.

Oh, he remembered S'kef from far back before the Plague. The man's brown had been the one to succeed in winning Larrikith's maiden flight, though B'jin was pretty sure the only people who remembered or knew of that event where the two men involved. He certainly knew D'ren didn't; the man wasn't sadistic enough to put B'jin at the mercy of S'kef with that kind of knowledge! B'jin was positive of that. His expression mild, B'jin came to a halt about five feet from the Weyrsecond, his brown eyes taking in the man's badly hidden smug attitude (he wasn't the only one that could see it, surely!) and the whip he was so fondly playing with. B'jin knew, without a doubt, that whether D'ren ordered one lash or one hundred, he was going to be in a lot of pain when S'kef was finished with him. His eyes flashing, B'jin met the brown gaze of the much taller man, and his jaw clenched in unspoken anger. Crossing his arms defensively over his chest, B'jin's fingers clenched into the white sleeves.

Behind him, Larrikith gave a hiss of intense anger, her wings unfolding enough to make her already solid little body look bigger, eyes whirling furious colours at a rapid speed. Touching on her mind briefly, B'jin calmed the green beast enough that she curbed her vocal outburst; her eyes, however, remained a hot and furious red while her wings refused to settle to her sides. Teeth flashed behind a drawn back lip. B'jin! Larrikith hissed into her rider's mind, her objection to allowing S'kef to lash him more than obvious in every curve of her body. She could accept B'jin being punished, lashed even, but that man? She snarled, the sound rumbling up from her guts and rippling through the air and over the growing crowd.

"Hush, love," B'jin murmured, though his voice carried no particular conviction and the green dragon took it less as an order and more as a suggestion, her hissing lowering in tone but not abating. B'jin turned his gaze away from S'kef to look at D'ren with a calculating expression, a cold feeling creeping into the depths of his guts. This wasn't going to be quite as easy as he'd been thinking it would, if only because D'ren had set the Weyrsecond on him. He shouldn't have been surprised by such a thing, of course, but B'jin would have been lying if he had pretended otherwise. The greenrider had been oddly convinced D'ren would be doing the honours of lashing him.

Figured.