[G] [P] 734.09.04 | A Hard One to Know

S'cer woke with a small jolt, eyes searching the roof of the tent frantically as he tried to place where he was. This was his tent, but something was horribly wrong--an arm was slung around his waist, pinning him to a warm chest, and sweat was damp at the back of S'cer's neck. It was all horribly uncomfortable, especially since he was not used to sharing a bed, and S'cer lay there for a moment, reaching out for Quelseth.

She slept, blissfully so, but roused at the query. Yes, I'm fine. There was a lazy sort of satisfaction beneath the surface of her soft voice, and it worried S'cer. She was all grown up now, wasn't she? Wasn't it much the same after losing one's virginity as a human? Ipsyth was very gentle, she pointed out, matter-of-fact, and it all started to filter back in, the gaps in his memory becoming clear.

S'bel! S'cer panicked, because this situation was far, far too domestic for his liking. He had never gotten the chance to be with Lytem as he had liked, having had to sneak around for rolls in the barns whenever the opportunity had presented itself, and he had genuinely cared for his fellow Farmcrafter. S'bel was nice looking, but S'cer hardly fancied him--he had no strong opinions about him other than that he was grateful that Ipsyth had been gentle with Quelseth.

S'cer wrapped a hand around S'bel's wrist and lifted it, scooting out from under it and letting it drop unceremoniously to the bed. The muscles in his thighs twinged with pain, and a mottled flush crept up the back of S'cer's neck and to the tips of his ears as he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed--he hadn't been with anyone in quite some time, certainly not since Impressing, but even beyond that.

His throat was dry, and S'cer got to his feet, moving toward the water bucket and drinking a dipperful before pausing to fill a cup. Snagging his trousers from where they lay scattered around the tent, S'cer tossed them over his arm before prodding S'bel none too gently in the ribs. "Get up," he demanded, shoving the cup of water at the bluerider. "Surely you have something better to do than laze around in my bed all day."

S'bel never knew which was worse for him: waking first after a flight, or second. A quirk of being so connected to a dragon like Ipsyth, so gentle and caring by nature, meant that S'bel woke up after flights nuzzled into positions far more tender than he would ever assume by himself. For S'bel sex was purely physical, and he avoided confronting any type of feelings like they were some sort of thorny and potentially poisonous plant. So he couldn't decide whether he would rather have the greenrider wake up first to find S'bel curled up against him in some sickeningly sweet display of affection, or wake up himself and be mortified the he was conscious for the situation.

In S'cer's case, though, S'bel would likely decide that it was most definitely worse for him to wake up second, considering the wake up call he received. As the man moved his wrist, the bluerider groaned slightly, stirring just a bit as that warmth next to him disappeared. He simply shifted, still asleep for the most part, and settled into his dreams fully for a minute more while the other man shuffled about the tent. At being prodded in the ribs, though, S'bel inhaled sharply and opened bleary eyes to look balefully at S'cer and the water he offered, blinking away his sleepiness with vague memories of the flight slipping back to him.

S'bel hated mornings. Although this probably wasn't morning was it? It was morning when the flight happened, right? He could feel his dragon, perfectly peaceful and content as he stirred awake outside, curled around Quelseth quite comfortably. He didn't respond to the question posed at him immediately, instead bringing a hand up to rub his face. He supposed he did have things he could do today. Like searching, now that he was a searchrider again or something. They could probably skip a day and be alright, though. They had brought at least one candidate back every day so far.

Besides, he wasn't so sure he liked S'cer's tone. For someone who just got laid, he sure was uptight. So S'bel ignored the cup of water for the time being, lazily sitting up in the bed and offering up a, "Do I?" to the question instead of a real answer or slightest attempt to follow the oh so charming command for him to get going. He planted a sleepy smile on his face that would have seemed fitting for a causal, friendly conversation, but not so much as the blonde man continued to relax in a bed against its owner's wishes.

For a very brief moment S'cer considered chucking the glass of water at the bluerider, and it took both looking away and a calm word from Quelseth to persuade him not to. Perhaps it's not polite, dear, but he's incorrigible! He grumbled to her, frowning at the bluerider who still lay sprawled in his bed, wearing nothing but an indolent smile.

S'cer flushed anew at the thought of that, because S'bel was not unattractive, and he had enjoyed himself. He couldn't deny that, but he had never been one for casual anything--he had never had the time for such things before, and didn't want to make time now. He smiled thinly and made the concession, setting the cup of water down on the small crate that served as a bedside table, backing away and clearing his throat.

"You should, since they're Searching again," S'cer reminded him sharply, rolling his eyes even as he bent to rifle through a chest of his belongings and coming back with a clean shirt. "Or is someone better to do more apt, do you think?" He smirked, pleased with himself, before tugging the shirt over his head and tucking it into the top of his trousers.

I thought you had better manners.

A man like this doesn't deserve manners; look at him, all full of himself. Perhaps A'liran is right about blueriders after all--they're best avoided if at all possible.

S'bel wasn't unaware of the possibilities for that cup of water and the risk he took in not taking it. He eyed it in S'cer's hand, though he kept up his smiling and carefree act, even though he really did not fancy the thought of that water splashed in his face. S'bel already hated waking up enough as it was. He was inwardly relieved as the other man set it down, even if he didn't show as much. He idly reached for the cup then and took as sip, eyes still following the greenrider who continued to scowl at him.

The bluerider didn't even flinch at the other's words. Were they already done with pretending to be cordial then? That was fast. S'bel wouldn't complain- this could be interesting. How many buttons could S'bel push like this, he wondered. S'cer seemed awfully easy to upset. And people like that made it even easier for S'bel to play games. After all, what could the man truthfully say against S'bel at this point? That he was in his bed? After a flight? How shocking!

"Ah yes, the Search. It's going well, thanks for asking by the way. I've brought back at least one every day so far," S'bel spoke casually, as if S'cer had actually asked. His voice grew just the slightest bit harder as he continued, but S'bel kept smiling. "Though I guess if my betters are going to snap them all up, I don't know why I bother. Hear that Ipsyth? We should give it up..." His eyes trailed over to where beyond the walls of the tent both their dragons rested. He turned his gaze back to S'cer. "And in that case, I could stay here day."

He drew up his knees, still not making a move to leave the bed. He shuddered for a moment, as if a shiver had run through his spine, though there was something artificial about the action and he smirked as he rubbed his arms, before he crossed them on top of his legs and let his chin rest on top of them. He looked at S'cer with amusement. "Are you always this cold with your bedmates, S'cer? How is that working out for you?"

But Ipsyth is very nice. I wouldn't want to upset him, which you will do if you insult his rider.

I'm sure he's a very nice dragon, Quelseth, but that doesn't mean that his rider deserves an ounce of respect, especially not if he insists on acting like an overgrown child!

S'cer was so involved with arguing his point to Quelseth, who seemed to be of the mind that dragon and rider were very much alike, that he hardly noticed S'bel at all until he moved. The bluerider was given another loathsome glance before S'cer turned away, moving around the tent in search of his boots. Which were his, and which were not? He found one and held it for lack of anything better to do, but its mate looked to be wedged half under the bed, and he grimaced. That was far too close for his comfort to S'bel, who had taken up residence in S'cer's own bed like it was his own!

Trapped and knowing it, S'cer rolled his eyes, decided to play along to some degree. "I don't need bedmates; I've no time for them." It was more to the point that he was afraid they couldn't stand him that prevented him from seeking anyone out, paired with a side of boyish romanticism (a hold-over from his Turns in the Hold) that meant that he didn't want a bevy of lovers, only one that cared for him in kind.

"I'm sure your bedmates don't appreciate your rambling or your propensity for cuddling, either," S'cer stated drily, arching an eyebrow in clearly conveyed amusement, a hint of pride rearing its head as he appeared to hold his own against the smooth-talking bluerider. "Now, if you please, some of us have work to do. I can't very well leave you in my tent to your own devices." S'cer certainly didn't trust S'bel not to snoop where he wasn't wanted, after all, and hoped (vainly) to appeal to logic.

The 'no time' comment raised a genuine laugh from S'bel. Although even if it wasn't faked like usual, it was never really a pleasant sound to hear since it was almost never good-natured. Something about it rang with cynicism that only someone like S'bel could find humor in. "Really? No time? What could possibly occupy so much of your time that you can't find a bedmate? You can only oil your dragon so many times before you run the risk of slipping off mid-flight." He gave a derisive snort. In short- S'bel didn't buy the excuse. He didn't push it further, though. He still had a few ounces of insincere cordially to maintain. He could only push so far before he really did look like the jerk in this situation. Maybe he had already gotten to that point, though. S'bel wasn't a good judge- he though everyone was a jerk by default. That or a fool. He hadn't quite decided which category S'cer fell under. And thus, he couldn't possibly leave yet.

He couldn't keep a flicker of scowl from passing over his features as the greenrider mentioned the cuddling. Score one point for 'jerk'. That was a low blow. It was his dragon's abhorrent propensity for cuddling- not his own! There was really ever only one whose arms he wanted to wake up in and it was never meant to be. ...Damn it. As he forced the smile back onto his features, his mood darkened even more. He couldn't even spare being confronted with the cuddling thing even when he woke up second, and that bitterness swirled around in his stomach as he spoke again, voice a syrupy-sweet purr that belied his true feelings and yet somehow pointed out the dissonance all the more in the bluerider's tempestuous mind. "Hmmm? Most wouldn't call a propensity for cuddling a negative you know? Affection isn't always spurned or met with cold and callous rejection." He emphasized the words in a way that left no doubt they were directed a certain greenrider and not meant in general. Although really, they fit S'bel pretty accurately as well.

He heaved a great sigh at S'cer. "You know what they say about all work and no play," he retorted drolly, leveling a stare at him that said he still meant to be stubborn about this. Probably even more so that the other man's comments had grown even more scathing. He loved a good verbal spar- especially when he was in such a foul mood. And although S'bel probably knew that was due to his own issues, and was not really S'cer's fault, he still blamed him. He had to bear responsibility now and offer some more amusement for S'bel- or at least some small sort of distraction. "Though you're right. You can't leave me alone. It's dreadful manners to run out to soon, you know. Makes a guy feel used."

Ipsyth offered a small croon to reassure Quelseth and show he wasn't growing upset at anything S'cer had to say to S'bel. After all, it couldn't be any worse than anything S'bel said to himself on a regular basis, comments only Ipsyth was privy to. He offered some calm insight meant to comfort. There are thorns on both those in that tent.

S'cer could only scowl at the bluerider ensconced in his bed, face flushed as he pointed out, "This doesn't mean anything to me, so I can be as cold or callous as I choose. I can promise you that you would be the last person I would ever choose as a weyrmate." No, S'bel was too antagonistic and vaguely manipulative for S'cer's tastes; his blood was up due to anger, not because of any sincere shyness or love-struck affection.

S'cer did not mind being dull--if he was dull, he was kept well out of the thoughts of others, especially those of a higher rank. He didn't wish to become some bluerider's playtoy, or someone's minion, both out of self-respect and respect for Quelseth. They could survive with one another, and to S'cer that was the only relationship he was looking for. Friendships were one thing, but romantic relationships were quite another--his relationship to Quelseth was far deeper than either, a half of himself, and it was all he could ever want.

Perhaps you are right, Ipsyth. She curled in closer to the blue's side, taking comfort in the friendly warmth, and commented to both Ipsyth and her rider, S'bel is a very good at arguing, he is not?

S'cer knew when he was being mothered in a round-about manner, and he heaved a sigh that could have matched S'bel's own. Begrudgingly he setting himself on the battered trunk that sat at the end of his cot, eyes flicking to his lost boot with a forlorn expression. It was still too close to S'bel for his comfort, and S'cer realized that there was no way out of this--it was time to capitulate. "What do you want me to say, hm? I'm not good company in the slightest, as I'm sure you've gathered."