The Rarest Glimpse [Open!]

Weyrleader.  S'kef liked how the world felt on his tongue, but not near as much as he liked how the knots felt on his shoulder. It was the sort of thing he'd worked his entire life to achieve. He was just a hold boy, after all. Poverty and bad breeding were enough to keep him away from even the craft halls, instead bound to farm dirt like his father and tend to his incessantly-ill mother. His father's overbearing and incompetence were like a weight around his neck.

How things had changed. The turns had been filled with ups and downs, from plagues and deaths to promotions and new relationships. S'kef's reactions to the world's tides has always been guarded, for he was a very private man and preferred his weaknesses  never be exposed, but only a fool would think it hadn't affected him. Today, after turns of frustration and anger, he was finally a winner. And it felt amazing.

He'd been ready for the job. He watched D'ren with great interest during their time together, and when the stubborn know it all would let him, S'kef had always been happy to help with his work. He knew what he was getting into, but it had kept him busier than his old position, though not as much as he'd feared it would. Of course, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He lived with J'ver now, so they saw plenty of each other in spite of the heavy workload.

It was worth it. Wing practices were on hold during the investigation, and S'kef's new position meant his precious greeenrider didn't have to lift a finger. Soon, once things settled down and the Weyr recovered from the upset in leadership, he and J'ver would truly want for nothing. In the meantime, the investigation was a pain in the ass.

S'kef didn't get away from the Weyr very often, but today it was essential. He had a valid excuse; Tyrrisath's hide was peeling. The dragon wasn't particularly worried about it, he insisted, or he'd have told his bonded about it earlier! Four days earlier, in fact.

S'kef was pissed.

"'You were busy' is not an excuse, Tyrrisath!" S'kef shouted as his unimpressed dragon as he peeled his shirt off and pitched it aside. Tyrrisath lounged on the riverbank,back half trailing off into the water.  A rather large patch of hide on the left side of Tyrrisath's neck was peeling, but it hadn't gotten serious yet. S'kef frowned, eyes narrowed at the patch.

"What have you got to say for yourself?!"

Tyrrisath blinked. He thought his bonded knew him better.

They stared at one another, hard gazes meeting in a match of wills. Tyrrisath's eyes flushed red in agitation and S'kef;s hard jaw set itself and his fists tightened at his side. Their impromptu contest lasted for a few long and trying seconds before they relented, each by his own accord but at almost the exact same time.  Tyrrisath closed his eyes and S'kef turned away in such a manner that neither realized the other had moved at first.

S'kef sighed, and then slowly allowed himself to laugh. "Stupid beast," he said with a sort of tenderness reserved only for his mate and his bonded. He knelt beside the dragon's neck and ran his fingers over the patch of hide, shaking his head slowly. "Come on. Let's get you fixed up..." He had all day, if that's what it took.

Quiet. Peace, quiet, silence – that was what R’nya desired. The continual hustle and bustle around the Weyr was driving the quiet, private man more than a little insane. People trotting past his hut at all times of the day and night; dragons throwing tantrums at random; people getting all up in everyone else’s business as they hunt for someone no one can decide on. Tall, short, male, female, dragonrider, non-rider-! R’nya huffed under his breath as Xyreith took to the skies, the pair gliding high and just above the clouds.

They might actually find something if anyone was asking questions worth considering, R’nya grumbled (not for the first time) to Xyreith. The bronze dragon gave a shrug, uninterested in repeating the same things he’d told his human so many times before – after all, if R’nya was that irked by the progression of the hunt for the Weyrleader’s poisoner, why wasn’t he stepping up and taking control of it? Xyreith knew his rider would never do that, not unless he was pushed by someone that outranked him, and no one was interested in doing that. He’d already taken the opportunity presented to ditch his rank of Wingleader.

Xyreith had opposed that vehemently. Not only was his rider stepping away from the rank and responsibilities that were rightfully his by the hide that Xyreith was so proud of, he was making himself look spectacularly guilty to those that took the opportunity to jump on him as part of the party that had poisoned D’ren. He’d been proud of R’nya’s response, however; his wallflower rider had laughed at the accusations before he melted happily back into the shadows of his chosen lifestyle.

Xyreith was, however, willing to admit that while his rider’s chosen style of life didn’t bring them either the glory or the respect they were entitled to, it did allow for far more such days as the one they were enjoying. R’nya was never one to sleep late, and had spent the morning going through his usual exercises, for despite stepping down from wingleading and their lack of wing practices at any rate; R’nya was someone that appreciated good fitness. Breakfast, and then basic chores and tasks that kept him busy, before the rider was suggesting a trip to the lake. Xyreith hadn’t had a thorough scrubbing and oiling for a few weeks, and R’nya was in the mood to coddle his dragon.

The bag of soapsand and oils were carried by Xyreith in his front claws, while R’nya sat strapped contentedly to his dragon, enjoying the gentle but definitely much cooler air of the above-cloud range, relishing the diminished temperature before his dragon began to descend, dropping through the clouds to glide in to the lake edge.

Tyrrisath. A pause, and then distinct amusement,  He is being scolded. R’nya made no comment, though his expression altered slightly, a subtle indication of his curiosity. Land, but not too close. The lake was large; there was no need to be clustered together like eggs on the Sands.

Sir, Xyreith responded, the large beast settling down a few lengths away, the distance neither here nor there, in the opinion of both rider and dragon. R’nya saluted lazily to S’kef; acknowledging the other man’s presence without specifically inviting nor seeking out companionship. Xyreith dropped the bag of washing things and then crouched down; waiting anxiously as R’nya methodically removed the riding harness. When he was free,  Xyreith trotted down the beach and into the fresh water, wings spread and nose dipping under the water as the dragon crooned happily to himself.

Watching the dragon with placid fondness, R’nya found a dry place to sit and began removing his boots.

"All right," S'kef said, peeling his shirt off and tossing it aside as he knelt beside his dragon. Tyrrisath sighed pleasantly as he felt the cooling oil on his dried hide. The peeling wasn't bad yet, but it was bad enough that S'kef was disgusted to have come across it. Tyrrisath was what, three days overdue? In this weather, in Katila's climate, that could add up quickly, especially on a large dragon. S'kef muttered to himself as he deftly worked the viscous oil over the dragon's hide, paying careful attention to ever crack and fold.

"You'll be fine," S'kef said, "but I don't want to see this again." He placed all the blame on Tyrrisath, of course. S'kef was the Weyrleader now; he was busy, and if Tyrrisath needed to be oiled, pretending he was fine was not the way to get attention. Tyrrisath didn't seem to think it was a big deal, which was both alarming and embarrassing to S'kef. At least Tyr's hide was too dark to see the peeling unless you got close!

Tyr rumbled in a rare gesture of appreciation. He was trying his best to act indifferent, but he was well-attuned to S'kef's inner rantings, and as frustrated as the man was with him, he greatly regretting his dragon's discomfort. That was more than enough to make Tyrrisath happy.

Their quiet time was interrupted when Xyreith appeared. S'kef glanced up, watching as the bronze dragon settled a short distance down the bank. He hadn't seen much of R'nya since the recent drama began, and he wasn't too surprised. R'nya was very private and liked to keep to himself. S'kef hadn't seen much of him before he became his wingleader, and didn't see much of him now that he no longer was.

S'kef masked a smirk. He liked R'nya, but shards did it feel good! The brownrider was swiftly learning that he didn't like to work for anyone but himself.

Still, he respected R'nya, so he took it upon himself to be civil. He waved back to the bronzerider, unaware of the man's curiosity. Tyrrisath was less content. His eyes flashed red as he locked them on  Xyreith, whom he'd never been fond of. S'kef sensed the disdain and gave his dragon a nice, firm slap.You're the better dragon he reminded Tyrrisath, who took the comment to heart and puffed up with pride. He said nothing.

"Good day, R'nya," S'kef called politely, still more focused on Tyrrisath.  He'd managed to peel away most of the tattered edge, leaving no evidence of neglect aside from a tender patch that would soon heal. Good thing he'd caught it when he did!

Don't instigate, Tyr...

“Sir,” R’nya looked up from where he was seated on the sand, his boots finding a neat place next to him, socks being shoved inside while he rolled up the legs of his pants. R’nya was generally far too dignified to strip down to his underwear in mixed company, and he certainly wasn’t about to in S’kef’s company. His pants would come out as wet but clean as his dragon, but the bronzerider could cope with that. His shirt, on the other hand, was removed methodically and folded up, the young man placing it beside his boots.

Rising, R’nya picked up one of the scrubbing brushes, and made his way with measured steps down the beach, gaze flickering over where Xyreith was swimming happily in the water, totally ignoring the company, and back to S’kef. Leaving his dragon to play, and ignoring the bronze’s indignant response that he wasn’t ‘playing’, R’nya moved down the beach more toward where S’kef and his dragon were, watching mildly as the brownrider worked at his bonded’s hide. He considered the pair for a moment, before speaking, his voice mild and while not loud, easy enough to hear over the sounds of Xyreith splashing around and whatever noises the pair was making at the time.

“How goes the investigation?” R’nya’s voice was unintentionally clipped, an unplanned indication that he was truly sick of hearing the gossiping bullshit most of the Weyr was whispering about behind their hands. The bronzerider was far more interested in the facts and while he likely could have been right in S’kef’s little circle if he’d retained his Wingleader rank, R’nya was unashamedly much happier without it. Most of his days were now spent in the company of the young goldriders and the future hopefuls. While that tended to come with the young man reminding them that gossip was unreliable, it also came with giving randy young men his trademark expressionless stare until they left the young women alone.

Xyreith’s commentary also kept him much amused, though he had no intention of telling the young women it wasn’t their playful banter that was funny, but rather his dragon’s acidic comments. Xyreith was many things, but being patient or compliant was not on the list; R’nya was fairly sure the beast only put up with his new group to spend time cozing up to the young golds themselves – A little favour never hurts – but R’nya had no intention of letting the beast Fly any of them. Sir, the dragon’s tone was a mockery of obedience, and R’nya sighed under his breath.

It's a bit babbly, sorry

His steps were almost soundless on the path, and Kela trotted quietly alongside him.  Terken was quiet as he walked, his mind full of his father's words that he would stand at Kypth's next cluth.  He didn't want to, for reasons that were mostly his own.  The shaggy canine whined as she scented the river, and Terken reached down to pet her. 

He sighed and looked down, finding a stick that wouldn't hurt her mouth.  A game of fetch might be what he needed to take his mind off worries of Standing and Impressing.  His father's reassurances that of course a dragon would pick him had been the opposite of reassuring for the young man. 

He saw two men, and the large hulks that meant dragons in the river and stilled.  Kela stood by him as he watched for a long moment.  S'kef...weyr leader and known to be a bad man.  He was almost tender with Tyrrisath.  Terken felt a surge of hope.  His few rider friends had reassured him that noone abused their dragons, and therefore he wouldn't either.  It was still a worry, and the biggest reason why he hoped a dragonet would never pick him.  Kela darted out from hiding, her excitement at swimming overcoming her want to stay close to Terken.  He set aside worries of abusing his dragonet if he impressed one and stepped into view.

Terken padded after her, whistling her close to him.  She obeyed, though he could see her disappointment.  He knew she would love to swim out to greet the dragons.  He blamed it on too much time with Grith in her puppyhood.  He waved to the two men, coming close enough to place them after a long moment.  Weyrleader S'kef was recognized first, from his father's complaints about a brownrider running things, and R'ana's quiet caution to be wary of the man.  The bronzerider he didn't quite recognize.  It took him a moment to place him.  R'nya. 

He wasn't sure what to say or do after that, so set about getting ready to get wet.  Arm guards came off, the dog lead for Kela after them.  Crossbow was laid on top of them, in easy sight and easy reach as he planned to hunt sometime today.  He debated, then shrugged,  peeling off his shirt, and rolling his pant's legs up.  Kela would enjoy a swim and a game of fetch the stick, and if he had enough courage, he might ask to help wash one of the dragons.

Thank you both for letting me jump in!

 

S'kef was pleasantly surprised when R'nya spoke to him. S'kef liked the man's company, at least in bursts, and hearing his former wingleader refer to him as 'sir' was a rush. He turned his head to face the bronzerider after clearing Tyrrisath of any further tending. "The investigation?" S'kef repeated, smiling slowly. "Not as well as I would like." The smile was inappropriate both in and out of context, but S'kef couldn't be bothered to care. He was too busy enjoying the prospect of picking R'nya's brain.

S'kef turned his full attention on R'nya. "We have a lot of suspects. A lot of heresay and gossip, you know...but the physical evidence is more important. It's pointing one of a few ways, but I'm afraid that's sort of hush-hush for now." He smiled wide,confident.  "It's slow going, but I think we will find the guilty party. Do you have any information to report, R'nya?"

S'kef hadn't noticed their guest, but Tyrrisath had. The brwon dragon fixed his red eyes on Terken and huffed slightly, offended by the presence of the canine but not offended enough to do anything about it. Tyrrisath stared right at the boy and shot a mental image to S'kef, who looked in their direction and raised a brow. "It seems we have company."

R’nya’s gaze shifted from where he was watching his dragon splashing to lift and meet the gaze of S’kef when the man began speaking. Any thoughts R’nya might have had about the smile lingering on the Weyrleader’s lips went both unremarked upon and without expression. R’nya’s gaze was locked firmly on the face of the brownrider, apparently completely unfazed by extended eye contact. A slight nod was given, both in response to S’kef’s rhetorical question and the answer he supplied it with. That was unfortunate.

The continuation, however, was far more interesting and R’nya’s expression altered barely, not really a visible action to those that didn’t know him extensively. A subtle frown and an indication of his thought on the things S’kef was saying. To those that didn’t know him well, there would have been no visible change at all. “Of course,” R’nya responded solidly. If the comment as given as bait, it went wasted on R’nya who was as disinclined to raise to bait as he was inclined to listen to gossip. If the Weyrleader wished to inform him of what was going on, and R’nya honestly saw no reason why the man would, than he would opt to do so without R’nya getting nosy.

“No, sir.” R’nya responded after a slight pause, clearly considering the things he was aware of. “I spend most of my time with the girls; they prefer to discuss flowers.” What R’nya’s opinion was on that was just as invisible as his opinion on S’kef’s inappropriate smiles. When asked, R’nya had admitted without shame that he preferred the company of the giggling girls; they were far less stressing and they shut up when he asked it of them without his needing to raise his voice or make threats. They were much more compliant than the men in his wings had ever been.

R’nya didn’t expect it would stay that way forever, of course. It was clear that the Weyr at large was displeased with Tsuen, and there were currently two young women with two young dragons. The way Krypth was going, there would soon be another clutch on the Sands – and even if she didn’t produce another gold in that one, it was obvious that they were on the increase. Soon, there would be a pool of young women with gold in the growing number of dragons and general unrest. There would be bitch fights and scandal and petty arguments that would escalate. Most importantly, there would be back stabbing and fighting over who would become the new Weyrwoman.

R’nya wondered how many of them would try to take their own collection of riders, start their own Weyr, and kick up dirt that way. It was something he was trying to keep an eye on, the results of which he was trying to keep reasonable. The other riders mocked him for playing babysitter, but R’nya wasn’t stupid. The girls may have no power on their own, and even what prestige their dragons brought was questionable, but if she decided to get herself a little gathering (especially one that contested S’kef’s rule) well, there would be shit.

“It would seem so,” R’nya murmured in response, turning to look at the young man that was joining them as Xyreith made his way out of the water and up the shore, wings extended, head and tail held high. “Hello,” R’nya greeted politely, his gaze then shifting to take in the sight of the large bronze dragon prancing up the beach and he sighed visibly. He didn’t mind bathing Xyreith, but did he have to be so big? Xyreith rumbled a laugh and pranced closer still, flicking a wing at his bonded and sprinkling him with water. At least the sour beast was in a good mood. As if to confirm that, Xyreith’s head snaked forward suddenly, tongue lashing out to lick the dignified man from waist to chin, and then knocking him back on his arse with a rumble of delight.

R’nya stared up at Xyreith as a foot suddenly took the space above his body, pinning him to the ground as one rapidly whirling eye peered down at him smugly. “Showing off, Xyreith? To what end?” An eyebrow arched up while his dragon continued to give off every impression of smirking down at him smugly. A hot breath answered him, and R’nya’s nose scrunched up at the smell. “Get off me. Your breath stinks.” Xyreith, still rumbling in amusement, sat down, reclaiming his own foot and allowing R’nya to climb to his feet and dust himself off with the greatest of dignity.

Red eyes fixed on Terken.  It took him a bit to call up the information on what that meant, then remembered his mother telling him that for dragons cool colors were good and warm colors were bad. 

He debated seriously hiding, but then S'kef noticed him.  This wasn't keeping his head down as ordered, and he suddenly didn't know what to do now that he'd been noticed. 

Now S'kef was looking at him, as was the other man, and Terken swallowed and stepped out.  Kela came right back to him at a whistle, sitting at his side.  He murmured, "Guard."  She settled to sit and watch the pile of things he had set aside, the crossbow easily visible.

Satisfied his things were safe, Terken slipped from the shadows.  He walked up until he wouldn't have to raise his voice to speak.  "I apologize for intruding.  I start a hunting patrol in a bit and wanted to run off some of Kela's energy first.  This is usually a good spot for that." 

He wasn't sure what else to say as the bronze...or was he simply a large brown?  No...bronzes shone.  The bronze showed a bit of play to him, splashing then knocking his rider down and pinning him a moment.  Terken was floored when the rider seemed to take it in stride, only getting up with the extra dignity that he sometimes saw in the more dominant canines when they'd been ruffled by puppy behavior and didn't want to show it.

His father would have pitched a fit at Berruth for that and not let up until the bronze started babbling apologies even Terken could hear.  A thoughtful look showed in the shifting of his brow muscles and Terken shifted to lean a bit on his right leg, a sign he was thinking over what he'd seen.

His eyes weren't awed, but thoughtful, and he tipped his head, running his fingers through his hair.  "I'm told that red in a dragon's eyes is generally a bad sign.  I apologize if I angered your dragon, weyrleader.  If there is a way I can set it right, let me know?"

Why did he have the feeling as he spoke that he was simply digging himself deeper into a hole he couldn't get out of?  Now would be a good time to shut up.  So he did. 

They prefer to discuss flowers

Something about that dry statement brought a smile to S'kef's face, though it was a sly and pointed one. 'Of course they do." It was almost a shame that someone as talented and clever as R'nya was wasting his time babysitting a bunch of flightly young women, but at least that meant he was out of the way. S'kef hardly expected R'nya to be much of a problem anyway, though. The bronzerider was dutiful and quiet, and his allegiance tended to lie with whoever held rank; at least that's what S'kef had observed To see R'nya so willingly bowing to him now (and so soon after D'ren's fall!) meant that he was no danger.

"I don't blame you for keeping your nose out of it. It's nothing more than a big mess," he said casually, more than happy to let it go.

Now, there was the business of their guest. S'kef turned towards him, watching as the young man attempted to explain himself. It was almost cute. Tyrrisath's eyes settled down into a more neutral shade of green as the boy talked, and S'kef was only half-listening, for R'nya and Xyreith's antics to his side were disruptive at the least.

"You're not bothering anyone, boy. Tyrrisath is fine," S'kef said, pleasantly enough, though perhaps a little rough around the edges. At least the kid wasn't acting like some sort of vandal. He was obviously trying to watch his step and keep his nose clean, and that was a good sign. Maybe not all the youngsters were completely useless. "..I think Tyrrisath was just startled by the canine."

Tyrrisath snorted disdainfully. Startled? Interested was more like it. Dragons didn't see dogs all that often.

Xyreith snorted out a laugh at S’kef proclaiming his dragon startled by a mere dog, the bronze lifting his head to give the brown a smug, self-satisfied expression that wasn’t the least bit represented in the way R’nya had his attention focused on the young man responsible for the mutt’s appearance. “It is well trained,” he spoke mildly and without any particular indication of whether the statement was a compliment on hard work, or a mocking insult on someone wasting their time and efforts on a dog that wouldn’t live two decades. Looks like a snack. Xyreith put in cheerfully, his good mood echoed in the malicious colours swirling through his contentedly sparkling eyes.

R’nya arched an eyebrow at Xyreith, glancing up at him sideways as he responded mentally with a dry remark about how bad wet dog smelled, never mind the implied taste. Xyreith just rumbled another laugh and poked R’nya with a single claw in the middle of his back, (Oil me.) and waited expectantly as R’nya ignored him for the well-known three breaths before excusing himself quietly to collect oil and the large and well stained cloth. He wandered back quietly, and with very little ceremony dumped an entire jar of oil directly on top of Xyreith’s face, successfully startling his dragon.

“Whoops.”

Whoops my arse! “Did I startle you?” R’nya asked sweetly, smiling pure saccharin at his dragon. Xyreith’s lip curled, successfully allowing oil to get on his teeth, and into his mouth, and R’nya just watched with amusement as the bronze snorted angrily and turned to stalk down the beach to wash his mouth out, and rub the oil off his muzzle. Shaking his head, R’nya returned his attention pointedly to Terken, with a nod towards the canine still obediently sitting where he had left it. “I assume it does more than guard your possessions.” It was a statement, but the bronzerider was quite clearly inviting the young man to speak about his pet, if he wanted to.

Xyreith slinking back up the beach with a vicious look at Tyrrisath was regally ignored.

Startled.  When the brown was big enough to step on Kela entirely by accident.  He didn't think so but appreciated the white lie anyway.  He shifted a bit under the weyrleader's scrutiny, he hated being looked at.  He opened his mouth to say that surely Tyrrisath was too much dragon to be startled by the canine but didn't get to.

R'nya distracted everyone by accidentally dumping a jar of oil on his dragon's face.  He had to give the beast credit though.  There was no panicked bugle or even visible fright in the beast.  Apparently, bronzeriders played too.  It was good to know.

Then attention was on him and Terken shifted then looked to Kela who plainly wanted to play.  He spoke quietly, answering R'nya's question.  A firm reminder to himself that here he was the lowest rank had him keeping his tone deferential, with only a slight stress on Kela's gender the first time he mentioned it.  "She's trained for hunting as well.  She can help me track the animals we eat, and when I manage to shoot it, can bring it to me.  She also helps me with tracking the felines that have dens around the weyr, she's trained to react to their scent by alerting me.  She's big enough to fend one off if need be, their claws and teeth have trouble penetrating her coat.  It's saved my life a few times."

Kela had helped him take down the wild ovines that had wound up on the table a few days ago, though he didn't know if he should say that.  Wasn't it bragging?  But then it had been a difficult hunt.  It had been worth it to help feed the weyr and he ahd known when he had turned the dead animals over to the kitchen staff that he had been being useful. 

He added, "Normally the others like her are supposed to be trained to guard the herds, but I had to hand raise her and she refused to do what she was originally trained to do, so she earns her keep in other ways.  Had to retrain her after finding she could climb of jump a six foot fence."  He shrugged.  "Not as intelligent or long lived as a dragon, but good companionship.  And she thinks all the dragons are the greatest thing since food itself was invented."  A little clip there showed he didn't agree with Kela and found it silly, but wasn't about to truly try and get her to desist in treat each and every dragon she came across like her new best friend.

Both dragons were watched and he asked softly, "Would either of you like a hand with their bathing and oiling?  There's alot of dragon to be cared for on both of them."  It was easy to forget that other dragons were bigger than Shanith, but when he saw them he understood R'ana's thanking god she was small.  The bronze and brown seemed to be almost twice her size.