20.Aug.12, 07:17 PM
Z'ia watched with visible amusement as Erisi bickered with his dragonet. Weyrlings were so readable. It was amazing. Of course, Z'ia conveniently forgot the part where until the World Above had Hatched, he and his classmates had still been considered Weyrlings by the Weyr at large, and most particularly those that had survived the Plague. Well, he'd survived it too, but without his beast of burden. Aveleth was like a consolation prize, for putting up with Z'ia's damned prison guard for the turns of exile. Don't do this, kid, don't do that, kid. Well damn you, old man.
If it makes you unhappy, do not think of it, Aveleth put in wisely, his voice a soft brush against Z'ia's mind. The bluerider resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and instead smirked wickedly at Erisi as the young man finally finished bitching with his dragonet and paid attention to him. "So I've heard," Z'ia purred in response, more amused than anything else as green eyes studied the greenrider. He'd heard a lot of things about Erisi. Weyr gossip had it's uses.
Z'ia gave a wicked laugh at the dig at M'bal. "I don't doubt." The bronzerider was about as bronze as they came, and the entire blueriding society knew it was all for show. There were bronzes, like D'ren, who would legitimately die of heart failure if they flew some random green (Z'ia still had money laid on Ronarth flying Larrikith) - then there were bronzes like M'bal, who talked big and strut like they were straight but definitely dreamed about dick every night.
"He should have Impressed a green himself." His bronze was about as bright as one. Le duh! That's uncalled for, Z'ia. Gold's are dumb, not greens. The rider couldn't help it, he gave a spluttering little snort of laughter and shook his head, sending his curled hair bouncing.
[sup]Sorry! Its bad *dashes for work*[/sup]
If it makes you unhappy, do not think of it, Aveleth put in wisely, his voice a soft brush against Z'ia's mind. The bluerider resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and instead smirked wickedly at Erisi as the young man finally finished bitching with his dragonet and paid attention to him. "So I've heard," Z'ia purred in response, more amused than anything else as green eyes studied the greenrider. He'd heard a lot of things about Erisi. Weyr gossip had it's uses.
Z'ia gave a wicked laugh at the dig at M'bal. "I don't doubt." The bronzerider was about as bronze as they came, and the entire blueriding society knew it was all for show. There were bronzes, like D'ren, who would legitimately die of heart failure if they flew some random green (Z'ia still had money laid on Ronarth flying Larrikith) - then there were bronzes like M'bal, who talked big and strut like they were straight but definitely dreamed about dick every night.
"He should have Impressed a green himself." His bronze was about as bright as one. Le duh! That's uncalled for, Z'ia. Gold's are dumb, not greens. The rider couldn't help it, he gave a spluttering little snort of laughter and shook his head, sending his curled hair bouncing.
[sup]Sorry! Its bad *dashes for work*[/sup]
Unless stated otherwise, Aveleth never speaks to anyone but Z'ia