16.Dec.12, 12:29 PM
B’jin was as oblivious as Talian to any odd looks the pair were being subjected to, the man far more focused on his senseless gazing at the roof, eyes occasionally focusing on Talian as the young man spoke. The hair stroking was a sweet action the greenrider hadn’t been expecting, but he enjoyed it, pleased the lengthy strands weren’t prone to tangling too badly. While B’jin could definitely use a trim to clean up the messy style the left-to-grow had created, the greenrider wasn’t really interested in shaving it all off again. He hadn’t had lengthy hair since before he’d Impressed, and taking to wearing it pulled back in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck had been second nature.
B’jin smiled up at Talian, the expression warm and a little sad; the entire month was a mess, and B’jin wasn’t sure how anyone was coping. Except S’kef and his cronies, who were acting like it was Turnover , but they didn’t count and B’jin preferred to ignore their existence. “He’ll pull through,” B’jin murmured softly, gaze focusing on Talian’s face and he offered a reassuring smile. He’d pull through a lot faster, of course, if Talian were allowed to do his job and make sure the man got the best healing possible, but, “S’kef won’t let him die. That’d make him a martyr.” A pause, “besides, can you imagine what the Weyrwoman would do if he did?” The woman was batshit crazy already, and B’jin wasn’t sure if D’ren dying would make her more crazy, or less… Stupid bitch was as liable to be behind the attack as anyone else. He didn’t say that, of course, because B’jin knew when to open his mouth and when to keep it closed. The dining hall was definitely a place for the later (no matter what some people’s habits lead them to do – the scandal!) B’jin shook his head slightly, frowning.
“He wouldn’t,” B’jin said frankly, though his voice wasn’t overly loud it was assured and quiet. Brown eyes searched out Talian’s own gaze, aware but making no comment of the tightened grip in his hair, and both eyebrows arched upward in a manner to express his slightly warped amusement. “He’d rather torture us.” B’jin was no longer scared of the brownrider in question, a fact that while not advertised (just as hi fear never had been), had become notable to both his not-weyrmate and his fostered son since his Flight with the skin crawling bastard and its resulting injuries. B’jin pitied the brownrider, if either man had staked a question as to why, B’jin hadn’t answered.
“He won’t touch you.” It was stated with finality, and a harsh look at Talian that warned of bad things happening if he found out S’kef had gone near his kid, and a mild mannered scolding that the young man should drop any such thoughts. Thinking about it would only invite it to happen, especially with mind reading creepy brown dragons running around. B’jin shuddered. That dragon’s voice was as horrific as the creature it had claimed.
B’jin smiled up at Talian, the expression warm and a little sad; the entire month was a mess, and B’jin wasn’t sure how anyone was coping. Except S’kef and his cronies, who were acting like it was Turnover , but they didn’t count and B’jin preferred to ignore their existence. “He’ll pull through,” B’jin murmured softly, gaze focusing on Talian’s face and he offered a reassuring smile. He’d pull through a lot faster, of course, if Talian were allowed to do his job and make sure the man got the best healing possible, but, “S’kef won’t let him die. That’d make him a martyr.” A pause, “besides, can you imagine what the Weyrwoman would do if he did?” The woman was batshit crazy already, and B’jin wasn’t sure if D’ren dying would make her more crazy, or less… Stupid bitch was as liable to be behind the attack as anyone else. He didn’t say that, of course, because B’jin knew when to open his mouth and when to keep it closed. The dining hall was definitely a place for the later (no matter what some people’s habits lead them to do – the scandal!) B’jin shook his head slightly, frowning.
“He wouldn’t,” B’jin said frankly, though his voice wasn’t overly loud it was assured and quiet. Brown eyes searched out Talian’s own gaze, aware but making no comment of the tightened grip in his hair, and both eyebrows arched upward in a manner to express his slightly warped amusement. “He’d rather torture us.” B’jin was no longer scared of the brownrider in question, a fact that while not advertised (just as hi fear never had been), had become notable to both his not-weyrmate and his fostered son since his Flight with the skin crawling bastard and its resulting injuries. B’jin pitied the brownrider, if either man had staked a question as to why, B’jin hadn’t answered.
“He won’t touch you.” It was stated with finality, and a harsh look at Talian that warned of bad things happening if he found out S’kef had gone near his kid, and a mild mannered scolding that the young man should drop any such thoughts. Thinking about it would only invite it to happen, especially with mind reading creepy brown dragons running around. B’jin shuddered. That dragon’s voice was as horrific as the creature it had claimed.