730.12.13 | Food. Meh. [B'jin]

Talian practically tiptoed into the dining cavern, his tawny eyes shifting from one side to the other as he gave the room a cautionary sweep. It was quiet; mercifully quiet, as most of the weyr's inhabitants had already eaten their midday meal. Self-conscious and ultimatly very timid, the young healer inched through the threshhold and made his way over to the tables, where the food was still waiting for him. It was picked over and on the cold side, but that was perfectly fine with him. Admittedly, it was already better than what he was used to.

This was Talian's first full day off of the isle, and only his fourth day at Katila at all. For someone so miserable, he'd gotten clearance to leave awful early. The Weyrleader had even arrived to pick him up himself, once the hideous bronze dragon determined that Talian wasn't going to run away. Well of course he wasn't, why would he? To get eaten by a beast in the jungle, or maybe drown trying to swim across the ocean? How foolish.

Pragmatic as always, the boy had just accepted his fate. He wasn't happy with it, but he was alive. He hovered over the tables for a moment and sniffed the air. His stomach gurgled. He hadn't eaten anything for his first two days, so his body was still expecting expecting famine. Plus he'd spent the entire morning helping some idiot back at the weyr's poor excuse for a healing hall. Talian was in his typical mid-day slump. Some food would wake him right up.

He picked over the remaining food and quickly seated himself, choosing the end of one of the nearest tables. There weren't many other people around, so he could expect to eat in peace. He was dressed in the same clothes he'd arrived in, though he'd received some new ones and made sure the current set was washed, and again he wasn't wearing his knots. He hadn't shaved since arrival, but it didn't amount to much, just a light dusting of brown fuzz. He'd contemplated trimming it, but shards, he just didn't feel like it.

He didn't feel like much of anything. He'd yet to formally meet anyone except a few of the people he was forced to interact with at the hall. He'd only spoken to one other boy on the island, and only because the guy jammed his finger and asked Talian to check if it was broken. How riveting and eventful this weyr life was!

Bah. He took his first bite and watched as a few more people trailed out of the room, back to their lives. Everyone here seemed so vibrant so far, they seemed to fit in so well...and he felt like an extra gear that belonged in a different machine entirely. What a mess this was, and in his estimation, there would be no end to it. These dragonriders probably intended to keep him captive until the day he died, and there just wasn't anything he could do about it.

His knots were still in his pocket. They didn't do much good at home, bringing only unwanted attention and pressure. They weren't much use here, either.

B'jin was singing. Like all things B'jin did, he was doing it with extreme enthusiasm and absolutely no regard for what the people around him would think of his actions. He was singing alone, without the addition of instrument or back up voices. The song in question was sung with a heartfelt emotion that came from believing every word that was thrumming from deep within his chest, echoing in the crystal summer air as he strode along, eyes blank as he maneuvered without really watching where he was going at all.

If one listened carefully, they would note the alterations of the words the man was singing, as he adjusted the song to better fit the unique situation that was Katila Weyr. He paused at the end of the last word of the third chorus, letting it linger and fade away before launching into the next chorus and entering the dining hall with caution, lest he run into someone unprepared to meet the solid form of a dragonrider - a caution that was well anticipated by the last minute dodging of a weyrbrat as she charged out of the Dining Hall with fists full of sweets. B'jin laughed delightedly in the space between choruses, and winked happily at the child, who returned his grin with a wild, feral expression and then darted away, giggling insanely.

Opening his mouth once more, B'jin settled back into the rhythm of his song, glancing around the Dining Hall with interest to see who the late luncheons were, and his sparkling eyes staying focused on the young man sitting sullenly at a table. He didn't appear to be doing a lot of eating, though he had a full plate, and B'jin's expression turned into playful mischief as he quickly took his gaze away from Talian and focused on the table of mostly-cold once-hot food. Approaching it, he twirled a wooden plate in a manner that probably should have had it falling from his hands to the ground but didn't, and then began to shovel food onto it with gusto. He grabbed a glass of wine, and a mug of Klah, which he somehow managed to balance alongside his full plate of food.

He then made a very direct line to Talian, and sat down on the other side of the table, directly facing the young man, with absolutely no preamble. He smiled sweetly, and set his mug and glass down carefully. He pushed the mug of hot Klah across to Talian, and his expression changed to one of slight bemusement.

"It's good." He promised, still with that odd expression, "Like everything else of any worth here at Katila, it was stolen with little thought for those left behind." His voice was honest, open, and without any sarcasm or cynicism. B'jin simply didn't know how to do either of those. Within moments, his expression was open and bright once more.

"So. Do you like being off the Isle?" he asked happily, filling a fork with food and daintily eating it. B'jin did not shovel his food like an uneducated moron. No matter how moronic the major portion of the Weyr may believe the greenrider to be.

That's why you have me, Larrikith put in cheerfully.

So, how to deal with that idiot back at the hall?

A dislocation wasn't to big of a deal, but apparently this man had managed it twice now. It meant something was wrong. Perhaps he needed to change his diet or do some special exercises. More likely, Talian figured, the patient needed to change jobs. He must have had a joint problem that his work was aggravating. How would one get an official word on that, though? Was there a form he could sign, a 'doctor's note' sort of thing? If it happened again, the poor bastard would be lucky if-


...Oh.


Talian snapped out of his thoughtful trance and instantly narrowed his eyes at the man who'd appeared before him, the greenrider he viewed as his nemesis. The greenrider had come bearing food and chattering on like nothing was wrong, which Talian took grave offense to. So now B'jin was bragging about his thievery, all while trying to look friendly?

Ever mistrustful, the youth recoiled like a snake and daintily slid the cup back with one thin finger. "No," he said, a simple answer in response to B'jin's simple question. No, Talian did not like being off the isle. At least on the isle he could pretend he was having a nightmare. Here, there was too much real-life going on.

What to do? He winced, wrinkling his nose with distaste as he looked between B'jin and his plate. He was going to have to choose between his stomach and his sanity, it looked like. He was awfully hungry, but he had no desire to spend any time with B'jin. He reached for a roll and shoved it in his mouth before rising to his feet and throwing both hands up in surrender, as if begging B'jin to leave him alone. Then, without any further comment, he turned and made a break for it; not quite running, but trotting at an uncomfortably fast pace.

B'jin's cheerful expression fell more than a little as Talian pushed the mug of Khla back towards him with a resounding single syllable. His eyebrows drew together in an expression much more akin to sulking than anything else, and then drew down in a slight frown. The expression, relatively foreign to the man's facial features, was likely more comical than anything else. It certainly wasn't an intimidating look.

"Oh." The single word was home to a flurry of emotions, from surprise to disappointment. B'jin was proud of Katila Weyr, as a whole. It was a good place, and while the new comers breathed less than positive influence into it, the weyr was a generally happy place, of late. Of course, that could be because there was a batch of new dragonets brewing. That was the best way to bring up the moral of any Weyr, and Katila was no exception.

Unfortunately for B'jin, Talian appeared to be determined to stay miserable (four days to adjust non withstanding) and B'jin was rather intimidated by the prospect of his task to 'fix' the young man and make him happy. Or something. Poetry wasn't b'jin's strong point and Talian didn't look like he could string three words together in a poetic manner. He was much too practical for that type of art. Or any art, if it didn't involve blood... B'jin blinked, and shoved his thoughts out of his mind, with the practiced ease of someone who had learned to push a dragon's probing mind far away.

B'jin almost smiled, as Talian grabbed a roll, and he was just beginning to really relax when the young healer stood up and literally fled. The greenrider, startled, sat there staring after him for a moment, not even blinking and with his mouth ajar. He blinked, and brain power rushed back. Leaping up, B'jin tripped on his own feet in his rush to untangle himself from seat and table and rush after Talian.

"Wait!" His voice held a note of pleading, and he reached out to touch Talian on the shoulder, not gripping him. It was more a polite brush, letting him know he was there while trying not to get too far into his personal space. "Please?" Now, it was all pleading, and he fought to capture Talian's eyes with his own, his expression down and drawn.

"I am sorry." B'jin said softly, hoping the young man would at least hear him out. He had to try, for both of them -- D'ren would tan his hide if B'jin didn't and B'jin didn't think he could live with himself, if he didn't help the healer adjust. It was, after all, his fault the boy was here.

And mine! Larrikith put in cheerfully, and ignored B'jin's mentally frowning reply of 'no one asked you'. No one ever does, Larrikith smirked in return, before pulling away from their mental bond. B'jin let her go, watching Talian.

Talian stopped abruptly when he felt B'jin's fingers brushing his shoulder. He practically cringed, though more out of his own tendencies than because B'jin had hurt or actually frightened him. Every inch of him swelled with dread he he turned around to face the greenrider, his eyes habitually locking with B'jin's.

It was hard to know what to say. B'jins was apologizing to him, and by all appearances, there was at least some emotion wrapped up in his words. Far too cowed by dragonmen to dare pull away, Talian just shrunk back far enough to be out of touch-range and stood there, his eyes widening suspiciously.

"So," he said in his sweet voice, "Who told you to say that?" It wasn't sarcasm or even necessarily spite, just a very direct question. He almost hesitated, as some part of him wanted to be wrong...but he'd heard those words before. People always tried to smooth things like this over. He couldn't imagine any other reason B'jin would be here.

If the greenrider actually had any real remorse, it wouldn't make sense for him to be doing this sort of thing to people to begin with. Talian supposed that someone could have ordered B'jin to kidnap people, but if that was the case, would B'jin have been so cheerful about the situation to begin with? The bastard was all smiles when they arrived at the island that day.

"...Why are you still bothering me? You've done quite enough," Talian added, almost whimpering in a failed attempt to be aggressive. He just didn't have it in him.

B'jin withdrew his hand quickly, looking startled when the boy flinched. Unsure how to handle such a reaction, B'jin shoved his hands into his pockets where they were out of sight, and out of mind. It wasn't a comfortable or common stance for him, but it did add to his upset and slightly bewildered expression as eh met Talian's eyes and tilted his head in question. Talian was an unusual case, and B'jin wasn't used to such a shrinking violet. Harper Hall had been full of outgoing and outrageous people - as was natural to a craft that required one to be comfortable with being in the spotlight. Further accompanied by Impressing a dragon and moving to the Weyr, B'jin had been surrounded by yet more people that were outgoing and easy to talk to. Talian was everything those people were not, and B'jin, well traveled though he was, wasn't used to being specifically required to interact with such people. It didn't help, he supposed, that Talian viewed him as a personal villain.

"No one," B'jin replied honestly, pulling his hands out of his pockets and letting them fall to his sides. It was a much more comfortable and relaxed stance than the way his elbows were required to bend in order to remain in his pockets. He was wearing riding pants, the leather thick and hardy for travel between. It was obvious he wasn't going anywhere, however, by the fact that he was simply dressed in a loose undershirt that had the chest-laces untied and open and his feet were bare. He'd been up north, buying construction tools for the better part of the Northern day. The difference in times was a little disconcerting, but not nearly as much as the temperature.

Now, that was the real question, B'jin decided, as he straightened up and looked thoughtfully at Talian. Answering it the right way would be very important. Weyrs were a haven for gossip that the Harper Hall could only dream of obtaining, and Katila was no different. B'jin pursed his lips for a moment, before visibly settling on a course of action. When faced with circumstances such as the one he was currently in, there was only one response: honesty.

"Two reasons." B'jin began, speaking lowly enough to not be overheard by anyone with flapping ears. "The founding reason? I was ordered to." He paused, making sure he captured the young man's eyes with his won, and that hte seriousness of what he was saying was understood. He adjusted his stance slightly, ready to grab Talian by the shoulder if he needed to in order to be allowed to finish what he was saying. "The other? Because I want to."

B'jin paused, waiting to see how that would be taken. He wasn't sure how to convince the kid of his sincerity. B'jin really did want to help the boy, and not just because D'ren had forced his hand. The kid needed someone, and while B'jin was aware that he probably wasn't at the top of the Healer's list of ears to listen, he was also aware that Talian would be highly unlikely to make any progress without someone with no apparent respect for boundaries just shoving him along. B'jin was just the guy for that.

Talian was truly opposite to B'jin. He was timid, used to being treated like a diagnosis machine and little else. He was from a reserved family and studied under dour teachers, his exposure to outgoing sorts like harpers limited. He really didn't know what to make of people with, as B'jin figured it, no boundries.

Ah, there it was. He narrowed his eyes a bit as B'jin informed him of the order. That alone was enough to agitate him, but wasn't nearly bold enough to act on it. He just inched away. It was a test to see if B'jin would inch after him. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could wiggle his way out of this conversation before it dragged on to long. Maybe the damn greenrider would take a hint. Not likely, though, if he was ordered by a superior to watch me... he thought unfavorably.

He started to scoot a bit further back, but he noticed B'jin's readied stance, obviously poised to grab him if he tried to escape. Unwilling to put up with that particular humiliation, he visibly gave in.

Now B'jin claimed that he wanted to hang around. Talian couldn't fathom why. If the greenrider was actually sorry, he wouldn't be doing things like that in the first place! "I don't believe you," he replied truthfully, nervously seating himself on the nearest bench, since he obviously wasn't going anywhere. "But I guess you aren't going to leave me alone, are you? What do you want, then?" It was just how his brain worked. If someone was taking the time to talk with him, they probably wanted something.

B'jin relaxed slightly when Talian gave in, and he watched the younger man slump down in a seat. He needed that small amount of time in order to formulate a reply to the simple, honest statement Talian had offered the greenrider. Of course he doesn't believe, B'jin thought, tilting his head. He wasn't sure if he'd ever manage to get the kid to believe him. B'jin was open, he was honest, and he had stolen more than his fair share of Candidates in the past two Turns (Not having been a part of the group to steal for Renewed Hope, it had taken B'jin some Turns before he decided he was willing to take part in such an activity.) and perhaps that was something that Talian would need to be told about, at some point. For now, however, B'jin felt his best option was to literally take it slow with the young healer. He couldn't give too much info, give too many stories, or too much contradicting opinion. He needed Talian to know who he, B'jin, was. Only, B'jin could list on one hand missing half his fingers, exactly how many people knew him.

"I know," the green rider murmured softly, his voice low pitched and gentle. He hoped it would convey some understanding. B'jin really didn't expect him to believe, or to understand, or to accept. But, that didn't change the facts and it never would.

"No," the answer, spoken just as softly, was warm and gentle. He smiled, a small and controlled expression that was much less intimidating than B'jin's usual expression of bubbly optimism and ray of shining innocence.

"To know you," was the reply, as B'jin used the dragon relay system to get two mugs of Klah dropped off by a fellow greenrider, who took in the pair of them with curiosity before meandering off on his way. B'jin carefully offered Talian a mug, the steam rising from the rim in swirls and gusts. He took a sip of his own, breathing onto it lightly first, and feeling the hot steam dance around his face. "Would you like to know me?"

B'jin's offer didn't come lightly, and it wouldn't take much for Talian to see that; The greenrider was hesitant, obviously chewing on the words before he spoke them, and he watched Talian anxiously over the rim of his cup. There was hot steam swirling around brown eyes that darkened with emotion, before he dropped his gaze to look in the mug. B'jin wasn't sure what kind of reply he would like, or hoped to hear, from the young man. He blew softly on the liquid once more, and took a cautious sip.

Talian listened quietly to B'jin's hesitant, murmured responses. The young man passively accepted the mug of Klah, which he started gulping at without so much as blowing on it. Pain tolerance and years of late night studying made him a champion of guzzling hot drinks. He needed it. He hadn't been sleeping well and it had already been a long day.

B'jin's words left a bad taste in Talain's mouth.  He eyed the greenrider suspiciously, carefully looking for signs of falsehood, but when he looked at B'jin he saw someone not unlike himself. B'jin was obviously outwardly emotional, the sort of man that didn't bother to hide his feelings from others. Candid. Transparent. Sensitive.

Like Talian.

He couldn't ignore the weight in B'jin's tone as he made his offer. Talian took another long gulp. "You want to know me?" he asked. "...Can't you just make your dragon spy on my mind?" he asked softly. He didn't care to expose himself to B'jin any more than he already had, though he wearily admitted to himself that it was probably inevitable. "Don't you think it's awfully arrogant to do this to someone and then assume that they want to be your friend?" he went on. There was no bite to his tone, though it was laced with a noticeable spike of sadness.

He frowned. "I know you people think of this as...some sort of privilege. But I don't want a dragon. I don't want to be here. You can pretend like you're doing me some sort of favor, but the truth is I'm here against my will, far away from home...I'm a prisoner, and you have no intention of ever letting me go. You expect me to 'adapt' to that?" he asked. His hands remained perfectly steady, but his voice trembled.

"How many other people have you done this to?" he asked, looking pointedly at B'jin. He stared directly into the greenrider's eyes, his own both accusing and almost pleading.  He realized in that moment that he didn't even know B'jin's name. He inhaled softly, readying himself for an unpleasant reality. "I'm not sure if I want to know you or not. You never even told me your name," he said. "All you've done is take me from my home, then turn around and tell me that you care without even bothering to specify why..."

"Yes..." B'jin said slowly, as if he wasn't quite sure what Talian expected him to reply with. Was it so strange, that B'jin wanted to know him? When the young healer furthered his question, B'jin blinked. His mouth opened slightly, and he tilted his head, puzzled. "I could," he said softly, blinking in a manner that betrayed his confusion at the odd question. How to explain why he wouldn't - couldn't - do that to the young man. "I've never been a fan of second hand knowledge," he said softly, honestly, and that is exactly what he would be getting should Larrikith poke around in Talian's mind.

B'jin lifted the mug to his lips once more, the steam reassuring as it caressed his face. "Arrogant?" He asked, mystified. B'jin had been accused of many things, and Larrikith tended to add to that list with a joy that should have worried the greenrider, but arrogant? Oh, no, he'd never been called that before! Wide brown eyes stared up at Talian over the rim of his mug, and he slowly lowered it in a dream like state. He had no idea how to answer that particular accusation.

Talian's frown was becoming a common appearance, and B'jin didn't really approve of the expression. He didn't say anything on it, or even pull attention to the expression. But, he would - slowly! - attempt to bring Talian around. He'd like to see the boy smile. The markers on his face indicated that he smiled very rarely, and that just wouldn't do! B'jin didn't know how to answer the young man's questions at that point, at any rate, so he quietly let that portion flow away. He didn't understand the expectations imposed upon them any better than Talian did.

"Seven." B'jin answered softly, though the word was blunt and held a ring of sadness. B'jin was a good search rider, and before the Plague, his green Larrikith could pick out a great candidate from a field of good. The greenrider had declined from Searching for the Renewed Hope clutch, and had taken until 229 AL before he tried out his hand at the bizarre method Katila would some day be known for. Seven, in just over two Turns. One every couple of months. A couple of them had even come in happily, to various degrees. Most of them were not nearly so positive, and B'jin was saddened to know it was 'the norm'.

"I did too!" B'jin's sudden reply was indignant and childish, his eyes wide as he sat forward suddenly, lowering his mug of Klah as he did so, and managed somehow to not spill it upon himself. "My name is B'jin! My dragon is Larrikith! I know I told you that much!" While his voice was pitched low enough to only really be heard by Talian and himself, B'jin's expression was a little wild as he racked through his brain, sure as his Craft that he'd told the young man of his name, and that of his dragon.

You did, Larrikith said firmly, and that was enough for B'jin.

"I am a Searchrider, a green rider, a plague survivor, an orphan, a father, a senior musician." B'jin replied, though whether he was adding it in as a list of ranks after his name and that of his dragon, or an introduction to who he was, was fuzzy.

What a nice list of titles and accomplishments. None of them helped Talian, though.

"Why does impressing me matter so much to you?" he asked. "Have you spent so much time trying to cheer up your other victims?" He slumped more in his seat as he spoke, as if he feared some sort of retaliation for his crisp words. He wasn;t sure if he could handle being shouted at or hit at this point. Nothing like that was going to happen, but he didn't no that. No, it was in line with his pessimistic tendencies to expect it. He took another drink, almost finishing off his entire mug of klah. He avoided B'jin's face as long as he could stand to before he finally peered timidly at the greenrider from the other side of the cup.

"If I didn't know better," he said, fidgeting nervously as he sat. "I'd say you felt guilty."  It felt wrong, to take on the dragonrider like this. His voice was weighed down by hopelessness. No matter how much he argued, no matter how much he out-reasoned or out-maneuvered his adversary, he still lost in the long run. He wasn't even trying to convince  B'jin that he was right. He was just desperately trying to understand.

B'jin's indignant response didn't help. Fearing this was going to be the violent retaliation he feared, he shrunk back. His eyes widened and affixed themselves to B'jin during his little rant. Talian seemed to shrink. He realized, after a few moments of horrified staring, that his eyes were watering. He wiped the stagnant tears away and closed his eyes, his chin pointed down in melancholy shame.

"...and I'm Talian. I'm a master healer, and that's all," he replied, using the same format as B'jin, but a notably less enthused tone.

"It doesn't," B'jin said lightly, smiling very slightly. He wasn't trying to impress the young man.... Well, that wasn't entirely true. He would love to see the youngster Impress a dragon, and he knew he'd do well on the sands. Probably not a bronze or brown, perhaps, but - a big green or blue, probably - Larrikith interrupted B'jin's thoughts without warning, and a sudden frown pulled his small smile upside down, though it was more a pout than anything else. Yes, Larrikith, he sighed, and blinked, refocusing on the conversation at hand. He could converse with Larrikith any time. Talian took a little more effort - mostly to find him!

"I know each of them personally," B'jin replied softly to his next question, meeting the healer's eyes without flinching. Brown eyes filled with a depth of emotion that wouldn't be easily discernible. He did what he loved - bring in candidates - but he did it how the Weyr required, even if he strongly disagreed with it. That alone was one reason he respected D'ren so much. If the Weyrleader were willing to admit it was wrong, but still required, than so could B'jin. It had just taken a few Turns longer than most to get him to follow through.

B'jin leaned backwards in surprise as Talian withdrew into himself, and the searchrider's eyes widened dramatically as he stared at Talian in shock. B'jin had never hit anyone in his life, at least not that he could recall. He was an emotional drunk, but usually in a happy-party mode, until he fell dramatically into depression and broke down. But he'd never hit someone, even when deeply intoxicated. Larrikith snorted indignantly, and B'jin hushed her before she could start abusing Talian for thinking so ill of her rider. B'jin! Hit someone! It was almost enough to make Larrikith laugh, though she would rather scare the shit out of the stupid child for the thought alone. That won't help, love.

He was too startled to say anything at all, but that was okay, because Talian spoke first and B'jin relaxed slightly, though his expression was confused. "So... you think I don't feel guilty?" He asked, taking the young man's turn of phrasing very seriously. After all, the boy was a master, whatever if's or but's he attached to the ranking. That meant he was smart, and B'jin, while intelligent, focused most of aforementioned intelligence on his craft, and associated dragonrider rank.

"I do not support our way of doing things," B'jin said slowly, making sure Talian was listening to him and frowning at him, eyes solid and steady as he spoke. His voice was pitched low, just for them, but it wasn't really an unknown fact. B'jin wasn't the only rider who disapproved of their way of life, but they all knew better than to attempt betraying their Queen or leaders. "I do what I am required by my superiors, just as I am sure you did growing up." B'jin paused, and sat back, still frowning. "Just because I do as I am told, does not mean I always enjoy the tasks." I do! Liar, B'jin returned, amused, though it died quickly as he watched Talian.

B'jin's lips pursed unhappily as he realised Talian was on the verge of bursting into tears. Not at the young man, but at himself, and he did his best to seem as non-threatening as possible. He took a sip of his slowly cooling drink, and listened as Talian slumped out his reply. B'jin's expression lighted somewhat. "There must be more to you than that," B'jin offered, leaning his elbows on his knees, and gazed at Talian thoughtfully. "What's your favourite food?"

As Talian gazed back at B'jin, his tawny eyes still bright and moist with unfallen tears, something inside him clicked. His features visibly softened and he finally looked away. He'd seen something shift in B'jin the moment he flinched from a hypothesized blow. The greenrider looked horrified, even offended that Talian had cringed from him.

Why did it matter? To Talian, that was the first shred of sincerity he'd seen in the man. It was the first involuntary indication B'jin had given that he wasn't some sort of filthy liar. Talian briefly entertained the idea that B'jn wasn't there to taunt him or manipulate him after all. A man could fake pity or apologies, but it was hard to fake that kind of surprise. Talian's eyelids drooped half-shut and he wrung his hands in his lap, trying to make sense of the development as he listened to B'jin continue to speak.

I do what I am required by my superiors, just as I am sure you did growing up

That line evoked the first new reaction from Talian. His eyes widened and his lip quivered momentarily. It struck far too close to home. He'd spent his entire life doing just that. His father, the master crafter...they were all the same. The dragonriders would ultimately be no different, of that he was sure. The proof was right in front of him.

He tentatively looked to B'jin again. His favorite food? What a random question. "...Eh..." he squeaked, clearly taken off guard by the question. Off-guard was good, though. It lowered his defenses. He almost seemed physically larger as he relaxed from his cowering posture and 'unfolded' himself a bit. Heh, his favorite food. Did stimulants count?

"I've...never really thought of it. I like sweet things, though," he said. "I...well, and klah. I used to get scolded for drinking too much of it," he added, testing the waters of elaboration. He refused to look B'jin in the eyes anymore; strange behavior from a boy who almost always insisted on eye contact.

B'jin watched the walls around the young man crumple. They didn't fall, and he wasn't expecting them to, but he felt a thrill as he watched the cracks appear in the mortar and offer ways for the greenrider to slowly get access to some of the deeper secrets that the healer held. B'jin smiled softly in amusement as Talian seemed taken aback by the greenriders - admittedly - random question. That, of course, was the entire point.

"Sweets are good," B'jin agreed, still slightly amused though he was doing his best to smother it. It wasn't what the Healer had said, but the manner in which he was saying it. As Talian continued, B'jin couldn't smother the rather large grin that spread across his lips. "I remember those days!" He grinned, giggling. The sound was unmistakably a laugh, and was low pitched enough that it might have been a chuckle.

"What about colour?" B'jin queried, before his mind could wander down the roads of turns without Klah and the withdrawal from the stimulant drug he hadn't known he was addicted to. He hadn't even been aware Klah was addictive, but then, he'd never heard of anyone being allergic to Numbweed, either. B'jin leaned forward, his grin childish in the naughty glint that entered his eye as he winked at Talian in a conspirational manner, and whispered dramatically; "mine is blue, but don't tell Larrikith!"

Talian knew klah was addictive, but he didn't care. His excessive fondness for it was obvious thanks to his empty mug, which he turned to to collect the last few drops before pushing it aside. Shards, he wanted more. He set the mug down and looked at it forlornly for a moment before delicately wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He was almost enjoying the conversation. The boy's well-rtrained eyes gauged B'jin to be around Talerian's age. Talian wasn't used to being around a man that age who laughed so much, especially when said laugh manifested itself as such a spirited giggle.

"Favorite color?" he asked. He paused and considered a light chuckle at B'jin's little joke. Oh, the dragon was green, not blue. Cute!

Not enough, though. Talian's almost-smile turned into an awkward stare which lasted a little bit too long. Talian cut his eyes away quickly once he realized what he was doing.

"Um, well..purple," he said. He was aware of the association the color purple had with his craft. Of course he was inclined to like it! "But I don't think it's very...relevant to anything," he added quickly, his subtle way of warning B'jin that he knew what the greenrider was up to.

In all honesty, Talian wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up the indignation. Being sullen was hard work, especially when the object of his displeasure was chasing him around. He still wasn't happy, but he was accepting.  He wiped his eyes one more time, trying to swallow the last hint of tears.  He'd come dangerously close to crying. He'd managed to avoid crying at all so far, though he could feel the weight of it all accumulating slowly in his chest.  Eventually he was going to have a spectacular breakdown. He didn't want to have it in front of B'jin, though.

"I told you there wasn't very much to know about me," he said at length, speaking up on his own for perhaps the first time. "I went to school when I was six turns old...and I got my first private instructor when I was eight. I've been drunk once, completely on accident, and I've had one girlfriend." His eyes glazed over a little as he mentioned Fiora. He didn't bother to elaborate on that, how she wasn't so much a girlfriend as a lifelong flame...and a single awkward, amazing sexual encounter. He'd claim virginity before he'd openly talk about that, especially since it was so recent he could practically still smell her on his clothes.

Shards, the lump in his throat was back.

"...I went to gathers with my big sister a couple of times per turn, but I barely even know the younger ones. I performed surgery once...a man's rib snapped off inside after he was kicked by a runner. It was going to puncture his lung, so I removed it. That's the most impressive thing I've ever done.That's...really all there is. Other than that, I've studied. And that's all." He nodded towards his empty mug, indicating yes, that was his studying companion. It got him through a lot of things.

B'jin's mug, still half full and swirling soft coils of dying steam around his face, was forgotten in his hands. It wasn't that he no longer enjoyed the drink, but simply that he was preoccupied and his mind was easily distracted. It wasn't uncommon for several mugs of klah to be found residing in B'jin's Hut on any given day, of various levels, and most of them stone cold and some with little bugs floating in top. He was a clean man, and he cleaned his home every morning with a ferocity that amused his dragon - but it still had a way of becomign a war zone by bedtime, and required a lot of work the next morning. Almost as an after thought, B'jin peered into his mug with a comical expression on his features, and then put it aside lightly. He wasn't fond of cooling Klah, but he also wasn't thirsty at any rate. Like his bizarre questions, it had simply been used as a way to distract the young man before him.

B'jin's eyes lightened as he caught the light humour that Talian entertained for a moment before he appeared to smother it. B'jin's expression fell just as swiftly, and he tilted his head in puzzlement, wondering why the young man would deny a smile, if a smile was what his features wanted to dispaly. Why frown, when a smile was so much nicer?! The man raised an eyebrow as Talian offered up a colour. It wasn't uncommon for someone to become attached to their Crafter colour - that was, given, why B'jin favoured the colour blue. Well, that and it was great fun to tease Larrikith. B'jin's raised eyebrows rose a little more as the healer continued, and he shrugged good naturedly.

"Who is to say what is, or isn't, relevant?" He asked rehtorically, not really expecting an answer. Some things revealed details about one that were confusing or bizarre or just plain random. "It is a part of who you are, which makes it completely relevant." B'jin's expression once more danced, his eyes bright and alive though his smile was small and carefully controled. As he watched, once more, Talian fight for control of himself however his expression mellowed out and softened considerably. He shook his head lightly as Talian once more waved off any accomplishments he had made throughout his life, and B'jin listened quietly as he spoke and watched his facial cues carefully.

"I began study at ten," he offered quietly, after taking in the information offered. "I was to take my Masters when I was your age, but I Impressed Larrikith while assigned to Telgar Hold." B'jin wasn't sure if he should elaborate or let it go at that. He wasn't sure he could bring himself to talk about M'ram, or his beautiful nieces - his face contorted before he pushed the thoughts away. There were some things that were still too raw to be spoken of, even after all those Turns. "I had a girlfriend," B'jin offered instead, eyes hazing slightly as he remembered a teenage rush, "we had a son. He'd be twenty-seven now." A warm smile spread over the man's lips as he returned his gaze and focus to Talian.

"That's pretty impressive," B'jin said, bouncing without warning back to the topic of Talian. His brown eyes suddenly narrowed, and he leaned forward dramatically. "What's the strangest medical condition you've come across. Personally or otherwise." A smirk was pulling at the corner of his lips, but otherwise B'jin's expression was mocking in the seriousness it pronounced. It was a comical look, as he tried to be completely serious while obviously hiding something he found amusing. B'jin didn't think Talian would have heard anything about his medical condition, and he didn't really plan on telling him at the time, but he wasn't going to put up the chance to find out if he'd made the Healers manuals. His smirk grew a little.

Talian chose to ignore B'jin's comments about 'relevance', as well as his little story about Larrikith. In true fashion, however, the boy's lips quivered uncomfortably as the topic of dragons arose. He didn't care for the beasts any more now than he had before. He was still convinced they were ugly and considered them no more than animals, even if the green had proven her sentience by screaming at him.

Yes, that dragon in particular was his least favorite.

"You were going to be promoted early as well?" Talian asked, his interest aroused by the shift in topic. He could feel himself relaxing as the topic of dragons apparently faded into the background, but he couldn't quite forget one little thing that had been bothering him. He squashed it down for the time being. "That's a strange coincidence. It's rather uncommon," he said softly, almost without emotion. He looked down again and continued to wring his hands. "..My father argued with a committee at the Hall for a couple turns before they agreed to promote me. It took that surgery to finally convince them." Of course, performing something like that was awfully messy. The poor man had to be loaded with alcohol before the first cut could be made.

The next question took some thought. Talian bit his lip and thought hard for a moment. "...Injury wise, or illness? Because I once heard of a girl who had a very strangely deformed hand," he said. He hadn't worked directly with that case, but he'd seen sketches. "As for myself...hmm..." That really did require some thought! "I once saw a man who tripped onto a fence and had a spike rammed through the back of his mouth. He survived because it just happened to slide between two arteries...he made the correct choice not to pull it out himself. Instead, they cut through the wood and he came in with it still stuck inside." That case hadn't turned out so well. The spike was safely removed, but he later died from infection. Talian's fleeting depressed expression was a testament to that.

He turned away for a moment, consciously avoiding eye contact. He didn't want to look desperate to B'jin, but he couldn't contain his curiosity anymore. "...I couldn't help but notice something on that form you filled out about me," he said.  "You wrote that I wasn't likely Impressionable. So does that mean you took me from home for no reason after all?"

B'jin, while he failed to call attention to the fact, did notice the boy's reaction as Larrikith was brought up. It wasn't really an unusual occurrence and a lot of the kids that were brought in held dislike for the dragons. Whers, now, were the object of beauty and saviour, and if they weren't Impressing a Wher, it was generally expected they weren't interested in Impressing. Whers were so much less fussy than dragons, and not nearly as useful. Couldn't even fly a human... Larrikith chose that moment to add a snide comment about the creatures, and B'jin shoved her away absently. Silly dragon, one day she's championing the stupid creatures, and the next she's tearing them down.

B'jin shrugged lightly at Talian's curious question. "Maybe, but that was almost thirty Turns ago, and I was very dedicated." He shifted slightly, uncomfortable, and muttered, "I was also the Voice Master's special student." B'jin shrugged, indicating he didn't know why, but the Master had taken a shine to him, all the same. He supposed his voice wasn't half bad, even though he'd been told for nearly forty Turns his voice was amazing. "Dragonriders weren't allowed to be Masters," he added bitterly, under his breath. Depending on Talian's hearing, he may or may not of heard the comment, before B'jin's interest was spiked by the young man's medical chitchat.

B'jin listened with interest to the comment about the girl, then his face slowly lost all colour as Talian spoke of the man. B'jin stared at the young man with a very pale, slightly green complexion. "That's horrible!" It was a shocked gasp, his voice betraying his ill stomach at the thought, even if his face hadn't. B'jin's own illnesses had resulted from incidences with Numbweed (never pretty) and a few scrapes and issues after Impressing Larrikith. Nothing major, and nothing that couldn't be handled easily enough. But that! B'jin shook his head, horrified. How did that even happen, never mind having the stomach to put it right!

Thoughts were thrown to the wind, however, as Talian took the initiative and changed subject. That was a major step forward, as far as the greenrider was concerned, even if the subject was obviously a tender one. B'jin leaned back thoughtfully on his seat, and studied the young man with serious brown eyes. He remained quiet for a while, simply looking at Talian, before he began to speak. When he did, his voice was low and thoughtful.

"No." A simple statement, and the simplest of answers. However, B'jin had gleaned enough from the healer to understand that he'd require more than that of him. "If we had eggs, on the Sands, right now, I wouldn't let you near them." B'jin said slowly, still studying Talian intensely, watching his reactions. "That is what that question asked. It's hypothetical, for the most part, and refers to your ability to care for yourself, and a Hatchling, in your current state of mind. I don't need Larrikith to dig into your mind to see you're unhappy. You wouldn't Impress, even if I were to let you try. In the even less likely case of your Impressing, I could guarantee you'd both be lost between before your first year of Weyrlinghood was up."

Harsh, maybe, but the truth. B'jin's features softened visibly as he waited to see how the information would be taken, before he would continue further. There was more to it than that, of course, but he didn't wish to overload the boy with information.

Talian expected the uncomfortable response to hi little story. The incident he described as a freak accident, the sort f thing that only came along once in a very long while. If anything else, Talian's presence at the Weyr meant if they had any lovely freak accidents of that nature, there would at least be someone around who'd seen something like that before. He wasn't especially proud for having dealt with it, though. The poor man had died, so in Talian's mind, it was a failure.

He hated losing people. It made him feel like a failure, and in his specialty, such things were inevitable. The best healers took on his specialty to feel like the worst healers. That's simply the way it was.

His sour expression lingered for a few moments as he listened to B'jin's little explanation. Now, Impressing a dragon didn't concern Talian. He was quite happy to accept the idea that he may not ever have one. He was still stuck on hos pathetically ugly they were, their evil riders nonwithstanding. He didn't like whers, either. It didn't take an educated eye to tell they were worthless and that all the people swooning over them were deluding themselves out of desperation, probably because of the disappearance of their slightly-less-ugly cousins.

"I'm not worried about that," he said, confirming his thoughts aloud. "...Your dragons mean nothing to me at all. But what you're saying is 'yes'. You brought me here to Impress one of your dragons, and now you're telling me that something is wrong with me, so I can't. So you brought me here for no reason after all."  It was simple to him, but he was accustomed to thinking in a linear, straightforward way. He obviously didn't appreciate the situation, as his mood was visibly deteriorating. He felt like he had to ask, though. He had to know. "If I'm useless to you, what will you do with me, keep me locked up here until I die?"

"No, that is not what I said at all," B'jin disagreed. Unlike most people, who would get irritated and defensive quickly, the greenrider simply looked confused as to how the Healer had drawn such a conclusion from what he had been offered. His expression was wounded, as the boy attacked him with a line of thought B'jin couldn't follow for the simple reason that, he couldn't see where Talian had possibly got it from. So focused on trying to find it, he almost missed what the boy continued to say.

Luckily for B'jin - unluckily for Talian - Larrikith had been sitting in on the entire conversation, as it were, and while B'jin was confused and hurt, the green dragon was ruffled by the insinuation, and she quickly got riled up. Her voice, when she spoke to Talian, hit with the force of a slammed door, as she barged her way into his stubborn, narrow minded brain.

Stupid human! It was always best to start with a strong offensive, Larrikith believed, and after insulting him just right, she continued with her barrage. Close minded idiot! She was going to be on a roll, and across from Talian, B'jin was staring open mouthed as his dragon went storming in - and in all likely hood - ruined everything he'd just spent a large chunk of his time building and creating. I never, ever Search wrong! The disgust, and outrage, that he could even suggest such a thing rolled off Larrikith like heat off a Hatching Ground, and she shivered with the indignation of it all.

B'jin, sitting stock still on the chair, was a statue of tight muscles as he fought mentally with Larrikith. She rarely put such strength into a battle, and he couldn't remember having to fight so hard to win his way, since the Banishment, when he had had to forcefully ground her from flight, lest she risk becoming sick by a neighbouring male, that would attempt to fly her. The man refused to close his eyes, and instead kept his gaze firmly focused on nothing over Talian's shoulder, rage flashing within them as he fought his dragon's will.

Only you would be stupid enough, to think you are useless! The last ramark was irritable, snide, but didn't lack nearly as much heat as previous comments. Her voice faded, as she withdrew, though B'jin remained tensed and his eyes moved rapidly as if he were reading, while staring at nothing the entire time. After a few more tense moments, his shoulders relaxed visibly, and he slumped in his chair.

"I..." B'jin didn't know whether to flee, or to apologise. Instead, he just stared at Talian with wide, fearful eyes, half expecting the boy to attack him.

Talian reeled as the voice hit him. His hand shot up to his forehead, as is staving off a headache, and his eyes closed tightly. It was the same voice that attacked him on the isle, that one that momentarily panicked him into believing himself crazy. He knew better now, though. He'd picked up enough information about the creatures to realized that they could indeed talk, and their words came through the mind. He didn't understand how it was possible, and on a good day he might have been curious.

Unfortunately, this was not a good day. B'jin's fear was realized, for Larrikith's little outburst almost instantly sent the boy back into his shell. If he didn't hate dragons already, he certainly did now. "..Tell that animal," he said, gritting his teeth against the unpleasant headache that had washed over him, "To never speak to me again. I can't handle it," he said through gritted teeth, as close to angry as he could bring himself to be. Instead, he was just crushed; utterly defeated, unwilling to expend any more effort to befriend this greenrider. It wasn't worth it if this is what it got him.

That was how dragonriders rewarded asking questions, it would seem.

He rubbed his eyes slowly and tried to steady his breath. He noticed B'jin about to talk and recoiled accordingly. "...I can't talk to you anymore. Not if you're going to sic that monster on me each time I disagree with you!" he stammered defensively.

B'jin was in trouble. He knew that as surely as he knew his life was spun out of control the moment he'd Impressed all those turns ago, to a little green dragonet who should have had more sense and chosen someone on the Sands, not hte young man sitting up in the Stands, no where near the ledge, excitedly documenting every crack of shell, every squeal of dragon, every hum, every ooh and every name that was shouted from bewildered lips. B'jin hadn't wanted to be a dragonrider - he had honestly never had any desire to get any closer than what was required for transport - he'd never even dreamed of being Searched, an uncommon trait in boys of his time. He hadn't wanted a dragon, green or blur or brown or bronze. They were a hastle, they were work, and they were idiodically dependant upon the human they bonded to within moments of realising HEY! there's a bigger world out there! - and people gave youngsters crap for falling in love!

All of that, however, didn't stop B'jin from loving Larrikith. He adored the green dragon that had almost broken her wing in order to clamber up to him when her loud and obnoxious demands hadn't been met nearly fast enough. What it meant, was that he didn't have the will power that went behind a lot of other riders with their bonded. B'jin wasn't always in control of Larrikith - she was a wild, strong willed dragon who often did what he did not want her to do. It had taken more control than he thought he posessed to keep her from taking Flight during their turns of solitude. He still wasn't sure how he had managed to control the dragon, even now. They had been hard, strong battles that probably should have made him a better rider, or improved their bond. Instead, B'jin simply felt more tired, when occurances such as those continued to make themselves known.

Like Larrikith jumping in and pounding all the careful work out of Talian like a hot knife slicing up a chunk of carefully molded butter. She was a natural disaster, in and of herself. So, with that said, B'jin could understand the way Talian formed his opinion of his dragon, and the way he handled it. He could understand the unwelcome feeling of a dragon's mind penetrating your own with a loud and obnoxious voice that made you question your sanity. He could understand all that, he could.

But that didn't mean he would accept Talian calling his dragon an animal. "She has a name. Larrikith." He stated firmly. Anger flashed in his eyes, but whether directed at Talian or at Larrikith was indertmanate at the moment in question. After a second, he continued, and it could probably be easily decided that the anger was split between the two - dragon and human - though whom he was more angry at was, again, not immediately apparent. Larrikith knew it was herself, but she also figured that he didn't want Talian to know that just yet.

"She was very wrong to do that to you," B'jin continued, his tone softening slightly though his expression was tight around the eyes, and his face appeared strained without his usual cheerful smile. "She is not, however, a monster." Now, B'jin didn't regularly get angry. Usually, he got exceedily proddy when Larrikith did (never pretty) but not angry. He could take almost anything from anyone, and he could laugh off any insult thrown at himself - by himself, Larrikith or anyone else. What he couldn't - and wouldn't - handle was Larrikith being insulted in such a heartfelt manner. He still wasn't activly angry, and while he was leaning forward towards Talian, his posture and his body language was not at all intimidating or threatening.

"She won't do it again, and I most certainly did NOT ask her to do so. Ever." B'jin pursed his lips for a moment, studying Talian as he sat back in his seat. A frown was still contorting his face into a rare array of lines, and he didn't appear ready to smile any time soon. "She is incredibly protective of me, ridiculous creature." It was the only explanation he offered. If Talian knew anything of the draconic species - Firelizards, Whers, Dragons - he wouldn't need B'jin to add any more.

Talian inhaled slowly. He looked back at the rider, his eyes somehow filled with both defiance and fear at the same time. He didn't look away, though he wanted to greatly, his breaths becoming shallower and shallower as he tried to formulate a response. His hands, normally steady to a fault started shaking nervously. They never shook. In his twenty-four turns of life, he wasn't sure if they'd even shaken so badly. They didn't shake at all when he stitched flesh for the first time, when he removed that poor man's rib, when he stood before the masters' committee...or even when he sat across from B'jin at the table on the candidate isle. They were shaking now, though.

He finally looked away, the light draining from his eyes as quickly as the color from his face. It was a sign of defeat, his way of deferring to the man who so obviously owned him now. It was also partially in shame. For the first time since arrival, a tear trickled down his cheek. He hated the idea of B'jin (or that terrible beast Larrikith) noticing it.

He inhaled again, trying to catch his breath. There was a long pause while he gathered himself, unwilling to speak until he was certain he wouldn't cry. "If you are allowed to take everything I have from me," he said hoarsely, "then I should be allowed to call her whatever I want."  There was an icy pause. "..It won't happen again." His favorite line from his days at the Hall. It was the only correct end to any argument with Talerian.

He wiped his eyes and swallowed hard. Just because he ought to be allowed to didn't mean he assumed he'd get to. His inability to deal with aggression was obvious, as he didn't even try to defend himself in any other way. He held still for a long time without speaking, as if fearful of what would happen if he tried to move.

He didn't know what else to say. He was suddenly reminded of everything he'd lost, perhaps even by his own comment. Things had finally been working. He'd finally gotten away from his father, gotten the recognition he deserved...his life had finally been in his own hands. Anyone who would just snatch him away from that was a monster, and would remain so in his mind forever. If there was any hope that he'd be able to reconcile with B'jin, there was no longer any hope that he'd completely forgive him.

"...Can I go now?"

"No."

B'jin had waited, in calm silence, as Talian responded shortly. His silence continued for several moments after the young healer's question, before B'jin was sure he wasn't going to immediately speak again, and as such, he could respond. His single word response was in answer to all the boy's statements, but especially to his question. B'jin's expression had mellowed out, and while not in the slightest bit happy, he didn't look at all angry and his eyes had returned to their soft, deep warm brown. He blinked slowly, and then leaned back on his seat. He flicked his long legs out in front of him, and obviously got quite comfortable before he bothered to speak any more.

"First," he began, voice soft and lilting with a musical quality that hadn't been there for most of their conversation. As ti returned, it made the previous absence notable. "Insult a dragon, and expect the rider to eat you alive." He wasn't exaggerating, and his expression altered to be almost amused as he raised his eyebrows. Besides Talian telling him he wouldn't do it again, (which B'jin was almost sure was said simply to appease him), the greenrider was pretty sure even if Talian did, he'd realise it wasn't just B'jin who would leap in to defend his beast. Every rider would, and very few of them would bother to explain why afterwards. The boy would understand, one day.

"Secondly, I am not your master," this time B'jin's voice was softer, and held tones of understanding. He knew what it was like, to request leave when all you wanted to do was throw a brick into their face and run for the hills. He knew what it was like to be sniped at continually, for doing things wrong - particularly during a Weyrlinghood he had never prepped for - without the man in question bothering to ask why.

"Here. Drink this," B'jin offered the young man a fresh mug of Klah, the steam swirling off it. He loved dragon-express... Though he was going to owe a lot of favours, the way he was calling in cups of Klah. His own fresh mug was swirling steam next to his mug of cold. He used his free hand to prod the cold mug away some, lest he grab it by accident.

"I don't want it," Talian said, his voice becoming curt for the first time. The truth was that he did, but he feared it would make him sick. His stomach roiled unpleasantly as he looked at it, ending with him physically pushing it away.

He looked back at B'jin, his eyes still filled with blame and discomfort. All of B'jin's work was undone, and more so with every passing moment. If the greenrider thought hostility would get him anywhere, he was wrong. Talian had already explained dozens of times that he didn't give a shard about dragons. It was hitting the point where he actually wished ill upon them.

He didn't know what to do about B'jin's hot-and-cold personality. He thought the rider's defense of the dragon was amazingly childish, though now he knew to expect such childishness out of every single one of the riders in the Weyr. It was just another reason not to speak to them. The boy's back stiffened, his body becoming more rigid along with his demeanor. He wasn't allowed to ask questions or criticize, and now he wasn't allowed to leave when he wanted. Unsure of what he was allowed to do, he just sat there, silent.

He sniffled suddenly as the lump in his throat reformed. "You're just LIKE the Master at the Hall, though," he commented. "...And you're just like Talerian, at least as far as I can see..." he said, hardly realizing the words has escaped them by the time they had. It was less accusing and more an observation. If B'jin was just like them, he'd have to be dealt with the same way; by letting him have his way. The only way to win was to refuse to play.

"What do  I have to do to please you? You can't make me like your dragon or your Weyr. Do you want me to medicate myself for depression? Is that good enough?" he asked, his voice shaking again. That was one of the worst things in his mind: not knowing or understanding the expectations. If the damn dragonriders would leave him alone with a task, at least he could focus on completing it.

He sputtered again and looked away shamefully. He decided to stop and hold his tongue before going off on a tangent. It wouldn't solve anything. B'jin would evade his questions and continue pretending to be his friend, only likely to show his true colors if his subject stepped out of line again. To a pessimistic man like Talian, there was no way out. He couldn't overpower for sure, he couldn't bargain, he couldn't reason...he was just trapped. It wasn't even limited to his physical body, either. He wasn't even getting straight answers about his situation. He couldn't verbally defend himself. There was literally nothing he could do.

Bitter with frustration, he felt his throat knot up again. He couldn't hold it in any longer. In front of B'jin and the entire Katilan population, he broke down and cried.

B'jin just nodded once in acceptance of Talian's refusal for the drink. He was a little disapointed the kid didn't want it, but all things considered, he wasn't going to force the liquid down the Healer's throat... especially when he seemed ot think that was exactly what B'jin would do to him. The greenrider didn't understand that, and couldn't even begin to. He'd never been abused, or at least, not to the extent he was beginning to assume this boy was. Even as B'jin's thoughts were beginning to travel down that path, Talian threw his accusasions at him.

They didn't come out entierly under that line, of course, Talian just didn't seem to have the fire in him for that, but B'jin was pretty sure that they were. He flinched slightly, not liking being compared to the Master - He wasn't sure which Master it was that Talian had looked to, and he didn't know for sure, but the name Talerian was similar enough that it had to be a family figure of authority (older brother? Uncle? Father?) At any rate, B'jin knew it wasn't going well, when he was being compared to figures of torment in the young healer's life. He was meant to be befriending the child, he wanted to befriend him -- and he was failing so miserably he would have more chance of coming out of between with a tan than winning him over now. Face falling unhappily as these thoughts B'jin shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.

I'm going to have to talk to D'ren, B'jin muttered sadly to Larrikith, the fear of another scolding making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his stomach clench sickly. Maybe a woman would have more effect with the poor kid. B'jin obviously wasn't cut out to be a part of this kid's life as far as getting it on the Katilan track went. Sorry.

B'jin was so startled by the meek appology from his dragon, that he missed the entire run of questions from Talian. Larrikith was quick to fill him in - she wasn't in Talian's mind, but she was lingering close to B'jin's, and her appology was sincere. She was a rash, abrupt dragon. Her rider was being abused, so she jumped in without thinking about how that would affect the bigger picture. She wasn't sorry for that, though - she was sorry for the way it had further upset B'jin when things fell apart.

Sorting through Larrikith's thoughts, and attempting to find the right answer - surely he could say something right - B'jin was still struggling to articulate an answer for the onslaught of questions when Talian fell apart. Larrikith's mind swirled, and wrapped around B'jin tightly as she felt his emotions shift rapidly as he first stared in shock as Talian burst into tears. After that, it was easy to know what to do, whether the boy wanted it or not.

B'jin's shift from his seat, to being beside Talian happened in an instant, and he had his arms wrapped tightly around the boy probably before he'd even realise B'jin had moved. Muscles taught against the expected reaction of Talian trying to get away, B'jin was all the same gentle as he held the Healer to his chest, and muttered softly into his hair. He wasn't sure what he was saying, and he could feel Larrikith's mind wrapped around his, sending warm love. He warned her off, gently, before she could act upon the desire to do the same for Talian. It was her way of saying sorry, but it could wait until later - much later. Larrikith, ever unpredictable, obeyed.

The young man hid his eyes in shame. He rarely cried, even with emotions as wild and unpredictable as his own, but he'd been holding this in ever since his arrival. He distinctly remembered his first night on the isle, bitterly swallowing his tears lest the other captives hear him and try to console him. He didn't want their company, he just wanted to be left alone. It was the same the next night, and the next night...

He couldn't hold it in anymore! He hid his face just the same, as if seeing him cry would be a victory for B'jin. Of course he didn't see the greenrider move. Of course he didn't notice until it was too late...

He gasped when he felt B'jin's strong arms close around him. The little healer produced a squeak and began to struggle, fearing the worst for a few moments. Try as he might, though, he quickly realized it was hopeless. He fell still and tensed up for a few long seconds before finally relaxing.

Perhaps it was B'jin's gentle grip or his soft words, but something grabbed hold of the boy. Instinctively, he threw his arms around B'jin and squeezed tightly, burying his face in the man's shoulder to muffle his sobs. It felt strange and wrong, to cry on the shoulder of the man responsible for all his problems, but it was the only thing he knew to do. He was alone here. He had no friends, no family, nothing...B'jin was literally the only person he had, and in a screwed up way, he needed him. He needed anyone.

B'jin's grip relaxed visibly as Talian gave in, but his eyes did widen comically when the young healer threw his arms around B'jin's neck and clung to him in a manner B'jin decided was more than a touch fantatic. The child was seriously undernorished in all areas of love an affection. He certainly didn't smile enough, was too easily manipulated and crushed to have any real self-confidence - things that stemmed from heart felt praise and honest love. Obviously, not all parents valued the same things in their children B'jin did, and he found that remarkably depressing, as he rubbed one hand on Talian's back and continued to murmur softly to him.

"Shh," B'jin murmured into Talian's hair, rocking almost subtly as he held the boy. He continued to rub the healer's back, then leaned back a little to look at his face. "Oh, Tal," B'jin sighed softly, using the hand not rubbing Talian's back to wipe gently at his tear streaked face. "I'm sorry." B'jin's voice was a mixed mess of guilt and affection for the youngster. Talian was, technically, much too old to be taken on as a Fosterling. B'jin, however, felt that emotionally the healer was very much a child who very much needed someone to step in and be there for him - and B'jin just nominated himself as he wrapped his arms back around the master healer and hugged him carefully.

Talian sniffled pathetically and buried his face in B'jin's shoulder again as quickly as he could. Some part of him wanted quite badly to stay angry at the greenrider. B'jin was responsible for all of his hard work going down the drain. Everything he'd ever struggled for, gone as quickly as it took a dragon to go between one place and another! But in that moment, as Talian lifted his head and felt B'jin wiping the tears away from his face, the healer realized that B'jin cared more for him now, after only two meetings, than most of the people he'd spent his entire life with.

He swallowed it like bitter medicine and lazily relaxed against the greenrider again, his chest heaving with occasional sobs. "Th-thank you," he managed to sigh. He was too emotionally drained to be ashamed, though a sour sense of resignation was coursing through his veins. Accepting B'jin's kindness was the final step towards utter surrender to the dragonriders. While he hated it in theory, he knew it was inevitable in practice. They had him, and there was nothing he could do.

Talian sighed after a few moments, his breathing finally under control though tears still poured from his eyes. "...Sorry for what?" he asked helplessly, though he expected he knew the answer. He just didn't know what else to say. "B'jin," he coughed, finally submitting to calling the rider by name, "I don't know what to do with myself..." It was true. He had no idea how to be anywhere but home, and he had no idea how to adapt to the Weyr, which he'd already determined he hated. What was there for him to do, other than sit around and put bandages on cuts until he died?

He squeezed B'jin again. He'd found something to cling to, even if doing so was essentially his own doom.

"Everything," B'jin breathed into Talian's hair, his chin resting lightly on the young man's head. He didn't bother to expand upon that simple word, which as it meant, covered everything. There really wasn't anything else to add - he was sorry for the way Talian had been treated as a child, for having to work when he should have been playing in the mud, for learning when he should have been making trouble, for being unloved when he should have been adored. B'jin held him closer for a moment, and then loosened his grip. He continued to rub at the young man's back, however, and his eyes were soft as he watched the young Healer calm himself, he was pleased that he hadn't pulled away.

B'jin felt a thrill when Talian finally called him by name. A small victory, as far as winning the youngster over, but one he felt was particularly significant. He frowned slightly as Talian continued, the expression puzzled slightly. He made a humming sound in the back of his throat as he considered, brown eyes glancing over the people in the Hall without really seeing any of them. He was brought back by Talian's tight hug, and he returned the gesture, before loosening comfortably and tilting his head as he considered the statement he took as a plea for advice. Advice wasn't generally his strong suit, but he could give it a shot, and hopefully not screw up too much.

"Perhaps," he began slowly, turning his gaze back to Talian, and wondering how to phrase his suggestion without it coming out wrong and screwing everything up all over again; He really did like the kid far too much to want to drive him away. "Continue your craft, but..." He paused again, frowning, and waved his free hand - the one not still resting on Talian's back - vaguely, "relax?" he finished lamely, face flushing slightly as he realised that probably didn't come at at all well. He really wasn't any good at giving advice - usually he was the one at the receiving end of it (and generally accompanied by a sound scolding) - and his face showed his trepidation at how Talian would receive what he'd offered.