Double, Double Oil and Trouble [Peorray]

As they walked East of the Weyr in the height of the sun, Armath thoroughly interrogated M'din concerning the ages of their upcoming companions. Are you absolutely certain it's not very, very small? It can scuttle about and such? The brown anxiously flicked his forked tail. After traveling South during the Exile with Mariltin, M'din's eldest child, in tow, Armath had developed an unreasonable distaste for human infants. Though he couldn't remember any one particular incident that triggered his aversion, he did recall months of stress, a lack of sleep, and a slew of horrifyingly disgusting smells haunting his early turns.

M'din answered, careful not to slosh the bucket of oil he carried, I haven't seen Soren, that's his name, by the way, not "it", but Peorray said he was one turn old. He patted the haunches of the crawling dragon. He can probably walk, or at least stand. Maybe you could teach him how to crawl faster, M'din grinned. After relaying to Armath the story of his first meeting with Peorray in the Bathing Houses, a lucky accident if there ever was one, M'din assured him that he would enjoy her company. He intentionally neglected to mention her young son until the morning they left, and the yellow-eyed dragon required several oaths and reassurances that Soren was not a "brand new wrinkle monster" like Mariltin had been eighteen turns ago. Promises of an extra-long oiling session expedited the process until Armath finally conceded, stalking to the river with his rider.

They approached the gently flowing water, sunlight reflecting on its surface, and turned slightly South to find the area with the flat rocks scattered across the grass. A copse of trees provided a windbreak from the chilly autumn breezes, and Armath took full advantage of the warmth as he widely spread his wings. He basked, humming, Nice day for some oiling. After a pause, he pertly projected, Nice day for some riddles too.

Rolling up his sleeves, partially to prepare for oiling and partially to mentally ground himself for the upcoming game, M'din said, "I suppose it is, but you think every day is a nice day for riddles." He bent to smell the oil, confirming that he had spiced the rendered fat properly. The air was rich with the scent of cinnamon, redfruit, and cloves, Armath's favorite mixture.

The more you take, the more you leave behind. What are they? Armath asked. He likely learned a new riddle earlier in the week, simply bursting at the seams to torture his rider with it.

The bearded man stood upright, beefy hands on his hips, lips pursed tightly under his beard. He squinted in thought for a few moments, not appearing particularly intelligent for all of his effort. "Oh, Faranth," sighed M'din. "I have no idea." He was spared further embarrassment by the sound of approaching footsteps. M'din turned with a smile. Perhaps Peorray would have a better answer than the permanently befuddled brownrider.

Sorry for the delay in getting this started! By the way, I've already given the riddle's answer in my post. ;)

Peorray smiled and gave a brief left-handed wave as she approached, her right arm being occupied with holding the child at her hip. After some hesitation about what to wear today (though she guessed any clothing would be an improvement after their first meeting- or not), she'd chosen to don old trousers for the day's activity. She didn't want to ruin one of her skirts if some oil got spilled where it shouldn't.

Given his prior informality, Peorray hoped she'd read him right and he wouldn't turn out to be one of those men who got upset when a woman chose not to wear skirts a time or three. She brought her left arm back down and used it to secure her hold on Soren, at the same time glancing down at her son. She'd put him down for his nap a bit early in anticipation of the outing, not wanting to mix tired-cranky-toddler and big-strange-dragon, and the boy was still a bit sleepy.

Soren was rapidly perking up, however, as they neared their destination and the pair that awaited them. The boy's eyes widened as he took in the big brown, but when a sideways glance showed his mother relaxed and cheerful, he subsided back into her arms, willing to wait and see what new toys she'd brought him to this time.

"Hey, there." Peorray greeted M'din, following it up with a nod down at her dark-haired son. "So, this is Soren." In a softer voice, she added to the boy "Soren, this is M'din. Remember, I told you about how we were gonna come see him and his dragon?" She glanced back up at said dragon and then at M'din, waiting to be properly introduced so she could greet Armath as well.

As Peorray and Soren approached, M'din felt a wave of relief wash over Armath, followed by a deep exhale. Apparently Soren was of an acceptable size and age. "Hello!" M'din answered, stepping cheerfully toward the mother and child. He softly tapped the toddler's arm with a single meaty finger. "I'm M'din, Soren, and this is my best friend, Armath." With a less-than-subtle hand gesture, he urged the brown forward. "Armath, this is Peorray. Peorray, this is Armath," he said.

First sniffling lightly at Soren's head, Armath projected out, He smells sleepy, but he doesn't stink. The dragon turned to M'din and announced, Her progeny is superior to yours. Continuing to peer down curiously at the child from his long nose, Armath sat down and spoke to Peorray, Thank you for not punching my rider in the Bathing Houses. He said you were very friendly, and wanted to learn to oil a hide. A faceted blue eye fixed on the brunette's face. He hummed, Naturally, I volunteered.

Patting his dragon, M'din explained, "Oiling isn't hard, but I don't think Soren will be as interested as you are. I figured he could explore the grass or play with Armath or just take a nap, depending on what he wants." Wasting no more time, the bearded man returned to the bucket, dipping his hands in the lukewarm substance. "Ready to try?" he asked Peorray.

Armath perked up, spreading his chocolate wings over the humans' heads, Get my wingpit. He obligingly stretched them open further, casting shadows in the noonday sun. His hide was fortunate enough to retain moisture well, and even as a dragonet he had required less frequent oilings than most of his clutchmates. That never kept him from requesting them on a daily basis, of course. 

"Ah, yes," M'din sighed. "The wingpit." He turned to the gold candidate with a smile, "It's his favorite spot." He began lightly applying a sheen of scented oil to Armath's hide, not enough to drip or puddle, rubbing it in with the heels of his palms. "Normally, I'd start with the more obvious dry patches," he pointed to his dragon's knees, just beginning to grow ashy, "but we've got a wingpit request, and I can't tell him no." He bent down, dipped into the bucket for more oil, and added, "I always think about oiling as a massage so, while it's intended to keep his hide healthy, it feels really great on his muscles too."

Armath emphatically nodded beside them. It feels wonderful, to be sure, but do you know what else feels wonderful? He answered himself without giving M'din and Peorray the opportunity, When you solve my riddles, M'din. That feels almost as good. I'll even let you have help. He lifted a front leg and pointed a claw at Peorray. Here it goes again: the more you take, the more you leave behind. What are they, my oily comrades? he asked.

Dialogue heavy! My baaaaad.

Soren watched Armath nervously as the brown sniffed in his direction, then apparently decided that he approved of this big brown thing. The boy learned forward in his mother's arms, his own chubby ones reaching toward the dragon to try and pet him. "Dag!" He chirped to Peorray, his own word for 'dragon', in a demand to be let loose.

Peorray herself started slightly when the brown spoke to her -she could count on one hand the occasions when that had happened and still have fingers left over- and smiled at his commentary. "You're welcome, I guess.Thank you for volunteering today."

"I think the 'play with Armath' option will do, if he doesn't mind." She replied to M'din, with a glance at the brown for objections, crouching to set Soren gently on the ground. He immediately crawled over -he was at the stage where he could walk a little, but crawling was faster- and began investigating a forefoot. This apparently involved pats and the occasional babbled word to the dragon. Peorray gave it five minutes before Soren got bored and moved on to the next activity, and made a note to keep an eye on him.

For now, she paid rapt attention to M'din's instructions, wanting to do this right. She dipped her hands in the oil and did her best to imitate the brownrider's technique. The feel of warm dragonhide under oiled hands was an interesting sensation and if she'd been alone with a dragon of her own, Peorray thought that she could just lose herself to the rhythm of the task quite easily.

But she wasn't alone. She was with M'din and a dragon who wanted them to solve a riddle. Oh, shit. Peorray wanted to 'win' the game, but a riddle master she was not. To buy herself more time to think, she stooped to re-oil her hands, and thought carefully as she set them to hide again.

"Is it 'steps'? Footsteps?" She guessed, glancing at M'din as though he could give her a clue as to how his dragon's mind worked. "You can leave those behind if you're walking in sand, or mud, or something."

As little Soren thumped against Armath's leg, tiny hands barely felt on his hide, M'din smiled at the amused child, grateful Peorray had chosen to bring him. Knowing his dragon would never openly admit to enjoying time with a human younger than three turns, he patted Armath's chest with a meaningful glance, the closest M'din could ever come to reprimanding him for his earlier hesitation concerning the boy's arrival.

Beside him Peorray had an answer for Armath's riddle in record time, effectively smashing the fastest M'din had ever solved one by several candlemarks. The brown emphatically turned to his rider, whose open mouth was still moving as if literally chewing on her response, and announced, That is correct. She is clearly superior as well. Returning his large head to the child at his forefoot, he told Soren, You'll be a good riddler one day too, I'm sure. He nuzzled at the toddler's chubby legs, saying, First you have to learn to use these.

Finally finding his voice, M'din mumbled to Peorray, "You're much better at riddles than I am. It takes me forever to solve them, if I get there at all." He chortled as his dragon, who'd moved on to advising the toddler, "It can't take him longer than it took you to learn as a dragonet, Armath." Conspiratorially, he lowered his voice to Peorray, "We both thought he was going to kill us the first time we went between."

Lies, Armath replied insolently. I knew exactly what I was doing. You two get back to oiling me-- no more talking.

"Mmhmm," hummed M'din with a grin. Deciding to be merciful, the rider ceased pestering his dragon to focus on the task at hand. He dipped down into the oil, watching it gradually drip back into the bucket for a moment, before telling the gold candidate, "The oil I use comes from rendered fat, probably a herdbeast, which is always in ample supply in the kitchens. I spice it to smell nice- Armath enjoys redfruit and cinammon, but that can change by the sevenday." Steering clear of asking Peorray what she thought her potential gold may enjoy, remembering that she considered such daydreaming unlucky, he added, "The oil's smell can vary quite a bit depending on the dragon's preference."

Armath likes to smell like Christmas, lol.

Soren squealed and laughed as the brown nuzzled at him. This was clearly the best game ever! But when no repeat was forthcoming, he carefully maneuvered himself to hands and knees- and then, with steadying hands grasping at brown foreleg, he leveraged himself up. With slight unsteadiness, he took a few wobbling steps away, looked back at the brown, and sent himself sprawling by splitting his attention from what his feet were doing.

Peorray glanced sharply sideways as she heard the sudden cry, but relaxed when she realized that it had been more angry than injured. As much as she wanted to rush over there and pick him up and cuddle him, she had to let Soren learn how to do it himself. As he was already doing, eyes glued to a bush with brightly-colored flowers nearby.

Self-conscious, but pleased, she ducked her head a bit at M'din's compliment, but soon grinned back at him. "It just felt like common sense to me. I'm sure Armath will be able to stump me too, if he really tries."

She lost a bit of the grin as he joked about Between, not thinking it a joking matter. He might be an experienced rider, but more than one weyrling had died because of it at Katila. She'd be lying if she said the prospect didn't concern her, should she Impress. But then M'din was talking again and pensiveness was soon chased away by fascination.

"Like how different Ladies like different fancy-smelling perfumes." Peorray summed up, before sliding a slightly-guilty look at Armath, who might not enjoy being compared to a fussy, spoiled Lady. "He's got good taste. But I hope that -if I Impress-" she tacked on hastily, an afterthought, "my dragon will have simple enough tastes for me to figure out." Peorray wasn't a fussy person and she did hope for a dragon who shared that trait.

She reached into the oil again and rubbed it into brown hide. "How about another riddle?" She suggested to the dragon, emboldened by her earlier success. She wasn't usually much for activities requiring great intellect, but this seemed to use practical cleverness more than Harper-lessons and that she could do. "If you want us thinking instead of talking."


[Spoiler=OOC]
Armath rules. This is all.

With a concerned huff, Armath saw Soren fall on his bottom before rising victorious and waddling to a nearby bush. He grunted, clearing his throat, and looked away nonchalantly. M'din privately questioned him, Do I detect apprehension for little Soren's well-being? Tightening his jaw, Armath's yellow and blue iris whirled to glare at his rider. You detect nothing, you great oaf. I thought I knocked him over and felt bad about it. Humans are wobbly and weak as it is, and don't need a powerful beast like myself pushing them down. The brownrider knowingly smiled, rubbing oil deeply into his dragon's flank.

"Why, look how adventurous he is," M'din commented, watching the toddler wander off to play. "He's a brave boy!"

Brave and, with any luck, as good a riddler as his mother, Armath projected. He stretched out his tail, M'din's normal cue to begin oiling the back of him. The rider scooted the bucket to his dragon's behind, gesturing for Peorray to follow. He explained, "Armath usually tells me where he wants to be oiled the most, and he's decided it's tail-time."

I've also decided that it's riddle-time again, thanks your clever friend. You should take notes from her, M'din, he told his personal slaves. The small brown flopped to the ground, relaxing in the sun and enjoying his massage. He began in his scratchy tenor, On my way to Benden Weyr I saw a tradesman standing there. He stood with five girls of golden hair. Each girl of golden hair had five flits. Each flit of maiden fair had five eggs. Each egg in flits' care had five spots. Spots, eggs, flits, and girls of golden hair, how many were going to Benden Weyr?

Momentarily taken aback by the apparent difficulty of Armath's riddle, M'din ceased his oiling and leaned over his dragon's tail with his mouth agape. Quickly crunching the numbers in his head, he thought to himself, Six-hundred and twenty-seven? Armath didn't respond, not that M'din needed confirmation of his incorrect initial answer. Armath would never willingly subject himself or others to math-based riddles.

Throwing himself back into the simpler task of oiling, M'din sighed, "I haven't the slightest. Let me think about it  a bit longer." He could hear a tiny snicker from Armath, obviously pleased that he'd stumped the humans once again. He turned to the brunette working diligently beside him, "Have any great ideas?"

I secretly hope that when Peorray Impresses she gets the girliest dragon ever, just to foil her, lol.

Peorray’s first reaction to the riddle was to silently panic. When M’din asked her for ideas, she very nearly blurted out ‘how should I know?’. This wasn’t like the first one, this was math! A lot of math! She couldn’t solve all that! Five girls, five flits –no, each one had five, didn’t she?-, five eggs, then the spots… and the tradesman. Couldn’t forget him. And the person who saw all these things-

Oh.

Her initial panic faded as she frowned and re-traced the riddle in her mind. Could it be that simple? Her certainty grew as she tested her answer and found that it made sense to her, but there was still a note of dubious suspicion in her voice as she finally answered the pair with her.  Tricksy riddle. “One.” She said slowly, still testing out her reasoning. “Just the person talking. You never said the others were going anywhere.” She glanced over to check on Soren while she waited for the dragon to confirm or reject the answer, pleased to see him still fine and busy with his flowers.

Soren loved plants. At this age, he also loved trying to eat them or just to shred them, but he did seem to like them in general. The toddler wandered from his first bush to another, playing quietly for a few minutes as he mother and their new friends talked.  Then he saw something come out from one of them, hissing violently. He backed up and landed on his bottom again, fear and impact bringing a startled and determined shriek from him.

Peorray forgot riddles and dragons both at her son’s new cry, abandoning the oiling without a second thought as she raced over to check on Soren. She knew her son’s cries and how to tell the difference between an angry one and a truly distressed one. This was one of the later and she scooped up the now-crying boy, eyes scanning him to might sure he was alright, before turning to see what had upset him so.

As Peorray solved the riddle (once again in record time), M'din watched with surprised appreciation, palms absently sliding down Armath's tail. He didn't need his dragon to confirm her answer: right was right, and she hadn't needed quick mental math to solve it. How did she know that? he asked Armath, still gazing in wonder at the clever woman. It would take him a sevenday to reach the same conclusion.

She didn't even need to take a guess, the brown projected, exceedingly pleased with their new companions. It seems Peorray has better listening skills than you, my hairy manbeast. He lorded Peorray's victory over his rider, Only one person in the riddle was going to Benden Weyr: me. The others were just standing in the road.

"So it was a trick!" M'din shouted, lips tightened indignantly. "I should've known." He returned to oiling vigorously, determined to find a book of riddles somewhere to study. Riddling was something he would have to practice- both alone and with Armath- to really see an improvement. I could get better with enough time!

False. We have been bonded for twenty-one turns and you rarely answer my riddles correctly. There is no hope for- Stopping short, Armath abruptly tensed, muscles tightening with fear as Soren fell backwards, shrieking at something he'd seen.

Three things happened at once: Peorray rushed forward, grabbing her son in a flash, Armath dropped his thick neck to wall off the upset pair, shielding them protectively from the threat in the brush, and M'din raced into the greenery, bodyslamming the furious snake coiled beneath the flowers. His rotund stomach pressed the hissing beast to the ground, unable to raise its head to snap at him or slither away in retreat. Laying face down and spread eagle on the ground, M'din had done the only thing he could think of to protect the others: he used his belly as a defense mechanism.

"Ar-Armath... Peorray..." M'din whispered, pale faced. "I'm stuck. I'm stuck on a snake."

M'din is tired of these Faranth-cursed snakes at this Faranth-cursed River's Edge.

Still bouncing her son gently in her arms and cooing soothing nonsense at him, M'din's strained whisper nonetheless succeeded in catching her attention. She strode around the shielding brown (with a quiet word of thanks as she passed) to get a look at M'din's situation.

"Oh-" Fortunately, Peorray got a lot better at self-censoring when her young son was around. "No. That is... not good." Not good, and foolish, and touchingly brave. She circled the prone M'din once, studying the problem, then returned to settle her now-quiet son next to Armath. She thought the brown was a bit too big to get at the snake before it could get at his rider, which meant that she needed her own hands free to help.

"Alright, the good news is that I don't think it's poisonous." She announced to dragon and rider. "But unless you've got a better idea-"  This to Armath, entirely willing to take suggestions from the smart beast. O maybe he knew someone more experienced with snakes. "I think I need to get control of its head." If she were quick, confident and a lot luckier than the thought she was. "Once that's pinned, then M'din can ease off and we can either capture or kill it with something." Knife, rock, dragon claw, there were a variety of options, really.

"What do you think?" The woman finally checked in with the brownrider himself.

"Why did I do that?!" M'din thought and wheezed simultaneously. He could feel the snake writhing under his belly, equally displeased with the situation at hand. The tall grass he anxiously clutched slid between his oily fingers.

M'din, you are a damn fool, Armath hissed, eyes bright yellow with distress. He turned to the (much more sensible) woman beside him, I will keep Soren if you can remove that snake from beneath my dimglow rider. I would, however, be happy to eat it if you can catch it. The brown looped his tail more closely around Soren, effectively creating a playpen with his body. He huffed nervously as Peorray studied M'din, earnestly hoping neither human was bitten over the course of this unfortunate exercise.

"Not poisonous?" From his place on the ground, M'din's brown eyes nervously glanced up to Peorray's, "Oh... oh, okay. Okay, that's good!" He had no concept of how to safely remove himself without sustaining a nasty bite to the torso, neck, or face, and certainly didn't want his poor friend to be injured for his stupid decision. Though he didn't doubt her toughness or capability, M'din would feel terribly guilty if Peorray was bitten trying to help. "Do you have a knife?" he asked the woman, a new plan of action forming in his mind.

Armath, sensing what his rider imagined, continued, Peorray, if you can cut off his shirt at the back, you two might be able to pin the snake under the fabric. It won't be able to turn and bite if it's held taut.

"And then we could use my shirt as a sack! We can take the snake up to the Mountain and let him go!" M'din cried victoriously, if strained. Armath snapped, We are not letting that thing go, where it can slither away and bite someone else. I am eating it and that's that.

Peorray listened carefully to the new plan the two offered, nodding absently in agreement. Yes, that could work, and she liked it a lot better than trying to pin the thing the way she'd been thinking. She only carried a simple knife herself, more a helpful tool in Katilian environs than a weapon, but it ought to be enough to do the job.

"We are not letting it go." She echoed Armath's sentiments aloud. "I don't care if he eats it or we just leave it to starve in that knotted-up shirt, but we aren't letting it free to hurt someone else."

She knelt down at the side that held the tail-end of the snake and, with the knife in her right hand, reached for the top of his shirt with the left. M'din was awfully trusting, it struck her, to let someone cut the shirt off his back without knowing they could handle the blade. For all he know, she could be the most fumble-handed person on Pern. Of course, the possibility was likely secondary to the immediate problem of the snake.

Peorray quickly realized another problem as she started sawing at the shirt. Kneeling to the side made for a bad angle and an aching wrist when trying to get the fabric taut enough to cut. She made an inarticulate noise of frustration and rose to plant a foot on either side of the man (and thank Faranth Herself that she'd decided against wearing a skirt today).

From her new position above and behind M'din, she made more progress in getting the shirt cut, more-or-less neatly down the middle. A new thought struck her with a muffled snort of amusement, then she couldn't help her next comment if she'd tried. "Do you realize this means we've yet to have a meeting where we both stay fully clothed?" Life was laughing at them- it had to be.

She didn't wait for a reply to the question, finishing her last slice and reaching out to lay each half to either side, her fingers brushing against his back as she did so. The woman straightened up and backed away to give the brownrider room to move. "It's done. When you're ready."

Poor snake, M'din thought childishly. He didn't mean to scare us. His bonded didn't respond verbally, but the rider could feel Armath's exasperation reverberating through his mind. The brown was pointedly visualizing a tasty snake-snack, not bothering to spare M'din the gory image.

Luckily Peorray was focused on the business at hand and wasted no time cutting at M'din's shirt, changing her initial position beside him in favor of a straddle. She sliced the fabric proficiently, commenting about their meetings inevitably ending in a general state of undress. M'din laughed, bouncing her briefly on his back, before saying, "At least this time we planned to be unclothed. Bursting in on you in the Bathing Houses was totally my fault."

Her fingers slid across his back as she finished, and M'din barely controlled the shiver running down his spine. He cleared his throat, hoping Peorray attributed his tenseness to the snake still squirming beneath him. Armath was not so generous. Hey, buddy. Is that a snake under there or are you just happy to see her? The brownrider colored despite Armath's private innuendo. It's a snake, and don't you dare make that joke aloud, he desperately ordered. The brown made no promises, but turned his attention to Soren. He told the child corralled by his tail, You did the right thing moving away from the snake. M'din could learn a good deal from you.

"All right," M'din sighed, praying his blush had faded. "I'm ready. On three, we pin it. I'll get the sides if you can get the front and back." He readjusted his position, scooting his hands to the edges of the fabric, elbows rigidly set into right angles.

The brownrider glanced to Peorray again for reassurance before announcing, "One... two... three!" He jumped to a squatting position, fingers splayed on the sides of his taut shirt, and squeaked girlishly when he saw the size of the snake outlined beneath the cloth. The animal had stopped moving, apparently defeated by the humans. "I think we did it!" M'din smiled to his friend, proud of overcoming his own foolish snap decision with minimal damage. "And nobody was bitten!"

Enough celebrating. Let me eat that pathetic worm, hissed the brown. Armath's eyes glowed crimson as a rumbling growl reverberated in his throat. He hovered protectively over Soren, a bloodthirsty draconic nanny.

Sorry that took me so long!

"Yeah, but usually planning to be unclothed is more fun." Peorray quipped, in reply to M'din's clothing comment. "Or so I've heard." Her own limited experience hadn't really been anything to write home about, but she wasn't about to share that. Odd situations aside, she liked to think she was a good girl, and fact of life though sex was, certain things were still not talked about.

She would never have started a conversation like this with a man like R'nya, whose manner and bearing made Peorray feel like aspiring to be the sort of Lady that should have been beyond the farmgirl she'd been born. But something about M'din's sweet, honest (charmingly inept) nature brought out the more casual side of her. It was kind of nice.

But there were more urgent matters calling for her attention right now and Peorray jumped to cover her assigned position when M'din called 'three!'. And it worked. It actually worked. How about that- they might actually get out of this yet without someone getting bit. At the thought, she automatically glanced over to check on Soren, hidden though he was by a decidedly bloodthirsty draconic nanny. She was ready to move aside for Armath when M'din was.

"Goo'." Soren burbled, making an attempt at one of the few words he'd understood from Armath. But he got that the brown was pleased with him and that was enough for the young boy. He waited with the dragon while his mother was busy with interesting stuff he couldn't quite see, then noticed Armath's red eyes and sudden growl. He couldn't do anything about the eyes, but if his new friend was growling, he wanted a try too.

The baby growl emerged wouldn't have threatened a newborn kitten, but for the effort the boy was making, he thought it every bit the equal of Armath's.

[Spoiler=OOC] That's alright. And I'm now mourning the fact that dragons can't have custom titles on the forum- 'bloodthirsty draconic nanny', lol.

As soon as Peorray took her position beside M'din, he followed her glance to her son. The brownrider unconsciously smiled at her concern, sweetness momentarily overcoming his crippling fear of the snake between his fingers. She was a good mom. His brown irises refocused on the trouble at hand, but not before trailing over Peorray's ample chest. Oh jeeze, he caught himself suddenly, eyes shooting skyward in shame. He reminded himself, Just because she leaned over and has lovely breasts does not mean I have permission to look at them. He sucked his lips into his mouth, hiding them in his thicket of facial hair.

Luckily for the peeping rider, his troublemaking dragon was thoroughly distracted by the child corralled in his tail. You can talk? he questioned, formerly red eyes abruptly shifted to a soft cobalt. Or are you just making noise? Soren? Soren, if you can talk, say, "Armath, eat that dumb snake."

He straightened up as the silence stretched on, self-consciously feigning his former intensity. (Try as he might, he couldn't shift his eyes back to the former furious red with the small boy imitating him so adorably.) The brown would loathe to have people think a cooing toddler could lessen his resolve, even if they were M'din and Peorray. We'll have to work on that growl. Though I commend you for your effort. It would have been frightening if I were a fire lizard... Maybe.

Eyes still fixed to the clouds, M'din called, "Ready, buddy?" He tried not to consider that the poor, scared snake might be friendly as he prepared to send it to its untimely demise in his dragon's maw. Maybe if I throw it the other direction...

Don't even think about it, M'din. Hold it there. Armath exhaled on Soren's head, murmuring, Stay here, please, and don't find any more snake friends. In three long steps, the brown crawled closer to the slithering captive, reached over Peorray's shoulder, and snipped the snake in half with a delicate click of his foreclaws. The tail end of the creature whipped in the hole Armath made in the shirt, blood beginning to seep through the fabric. The dragon cavalierly tossed the tattered clothing away from their quartet and scooped the snake into his mouth, chewing loudly on its remains. Hmm. Crunchy, he reported, analyzing the flavor profile of the problematic reptile.

If Armath is a nanny, then M'din is a failed Pernese Steve Irwin, lol.

I love that Peorray's so level-headed about the whole ordeal. Like, "Lemme just bust out this knife and handle it all for you boys."

Peorray glanced back at M'din just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of his wayward eyes and sudden interest in the sky above them. Well. She knew she had certain good assets, but it still took her by surprise sometimes when a man noticed them, when there were certainly more eye-catching beauties around.

Aside from the incident that had created Soren, 'relations' hadn't been a priority at Katila- not in the least because, at first, she'd been both grieving her husband's death and hopeful that a miracle would provide escape or rescue. Since then, she hadn't really been drawn to start something with a rider. So many of them were either male-lovers, arrogant, or were simply too emotionally damaged by the Plague or their exile to fix. She knew better than to try. But though she wasn't expecting True Love, Peorray did expect some caring and affection in a relationship. Dederon had ruined her that way, she guessed. But she rather thought that M'din could provide something similar, even if it wasn't the same sort of commitment that holder girls expected and the Katilan weyrbrats laughed at.

And it wasn't as though she hadn't done her own ogling at the baths. Most of the males she'd known weren't shy about showing their interest in a woman, however. She wasn't sure how to go about encouraging a shyer one. She'd never needed to. And a skilled seductress she was not.

She held her thoughts and held still while Armath approached. She was good up until the blood became visible through the cloth and the brown began crunching on his newly-made snack. Now that the danger was over, she closed her eyes and shuddered once as she thought about what had happened and just how dangerous it could have been.

The reaction was brief, however, and she once she got a handle on it she opened her eyes again to smile at M'din. "Thank you. That was very brave." She leaned over, a hand on his bare arm to steady herself, to kiss his cheek. She let the hand linger for a moment, brushing against his skin, before looking over at his brown and the little boy toddling his way over to them.

She scooped up her son, smiling again as he babbled about "Mah!" (with much gesturing at the brown she assumed he was trying to name). "It was a pleasure to spend time with you both. Sorry to have been so much trouble, though.

The air near the river's edge was suddenly chillier now that M'din was shirtless, and he rubbed his hands over his goosebumped arms as Armath crunched on the snake. The guilty brownrider did his best to push thoughts of the dead reptile out of his mind, wondering if he could have spared it by not foolishly throwing himself on its body. Stop feeling bad about it. People come here all the time; imagine if it had bitten Soren or one of your kids,[i] Armath chided. He did not share his rider's qualms about the slithering creature, accenting his words by flicking his tongue out to wipe blood from the corner of his mouth.

M'din's attention abruptly turned to Peorray, whose relief and gratitude were evident on her pretty face. He smiled back widely, suddenly pleased with himself despite the dead snake and destroyed clothing. [i]At least no one got hurt.

And then, to his tremendous surprise, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, warm hand pressed tenderly against his arm. The cooler air went unnoticed as a blush spread up to his cheeks, and he stuttered, "Oh, I, uh, thank you. I was just, uh, trying to help." Barring the occasional flightlust situation, it had been turns since a woman had kissed M'din, especially one he enjoyed as much as Peorray, and the bearded man found himself completely willing to fall on another snake if he could get similar results in the future.

Meanwhile, Armath whipped his head back to the child clutched in Peorray's arms, saying, No, I am not your ma. That is your ma. He lifted a long claw to the gold candidate, then pointed it back to himself. I am Armath. I am not a clutching female, and you did not come from an egg. He peered at the boy curiously, still uncertain of whether or not Soren was capable of coherent speech. He wouldn't put it past a toddler to pull a quick one and, after all, riding South during the Exile with baby Marilitin had been his worst nightmare. And M'din's eldest son hadn't been capable of anything but crying at the time! Since then, Armath was naturally suspicious of young humans, though he found Soren far easier to deal with in general.

"Not trouble at all!" M'din cheerfully responded, cracking his knuckles. Noticing his bare stomach, he sheepishly added, "I should probably go back to my hut and change though. Maybe we can try oiling Armath again another time?"

PM'd you, Tari! So much to plan. *steeples hands*

Soren frowned at the dragon. "Mah..." The boy stretched out the sound, playing with it. "Mah, mah, mat." His expression shifted and he beamed at the brown again, apparently happy with the new sound. "Mat!"

It was on the tip of Peorray's tongue to say M'din need not hurry on her account, or maybe to make a suggestion that involved non-dragon-related uses for oils. But the fleeting impulse was easily checked- she didn't want to make him uncomfortable, after all. And even if she wasn't a real lady, she was trying, and knew that proper ones didn't voice things like that.

"I'll just let you go do, that, then." She agreed lightly. "Just let me know when, and I'll be there. Or... it doesn't have to be for dragon-oiling. Just a thought. I wouldn't want poor Armath to have to wait." Reminded of the dragon, she added to Armath. "It was a pleasure to meet you, though. And your riddles were fun."

"See you later." With a little wave at both, Peorray turned and headed back to the Weyr proper, jiggling Soren a bit when he began fussing. This had been enough excitement for one day.

[Spoiler=OOC]

And we will take over the world!

Wait... wrong movie...

Armath peered down his snout curiously, attentively listening to the toddler in Peorray's arms. Mat? I don't have a mat, Soren. The brown felt slightly guilty that his new friend needed something he couldn't provide, and his irises swirled with anxious yellows. He's trying to say your name, Armath, M'din informed him, still smiling daezedly at Peorray.  What a lovely day it had turned out to be.

Ahh, I see. Yes, I'm Mat! he nodded enthusiastically, exhaling on Soren's head. That's a good nickname, I think. Cobalt eyes shifted to Peorray, and he said with a note of wholehearted approval, Thank you for having a child that doesn't stink. He pointedly glanced at M'din, as if it were his rider's fault that his firstborn infant had an unappealing scent for the duration of their Exile. And we will play at riddles again sometime.

M'din patted his dragon on the flank, grinning ear to ear as Peorray mentioned meeting in the future. "That would be great! Maybe... uh, we could get dinner or something," he offered. He didn't mention it, but he'd have to get Mariltin and his younger kids to cook for him: M'din was beyond hopeless in the kitchen and would sooner die than serve her a burnt or bland meal. M'din and Armath watched for a moment in silence as Peorray and Soren walked away before the brown privately added, Come on, big guy. We need to get you home. You can daydream about her once you've got a new shirt.

Finished! Now it's time for some world domination.