04.Apr.13, 02:16 PM
C'vir resolved to banish his blushes, even if it meant replacing them with brusqueness. His recently renewed preoccupation with Katila politics left him distracted, and slightly less guarded as a result. The slip in presentation was one the brownrider intended to rectify quickly, lest it become habitual. Startled by some combination of Z'ia's laughter and Plague's screeching, the man's shoulder's jerked unconsciously, raising a rumble of displeasure from Besulth. That wretched thing would be terribly easy to kill , the brown muttered irately. Eaaaaaasy. You know I can't let you murder people's pets, much as you think you'd enjoy it.
The brown, firelizard vendetta further reinforced, settled reluctantly, training a watchful eye on Plague as his rider continued conversing.
C'vir dutifully filed away the information about D'hys and V'zire's budding relationship, hoping that it would prevent him from asking future stupid questions pertaining to the two. Faranth, I'm behind on things. I should be paying more attention.
Just now figuring that out? You're not normally quite this bad with names, either.
Disconcerted, the brownrider spent a moment placing both mentioned riders. His eventual success at mentally locating their faces, along with the reference to V'zire's nickname, jarred his memory more properly than their honorifics had. D'hys had been willfully forgotten; any thought of the bluerider brought with it the thought of the man's smile, which was dangerous. V'zire had been a perfectly pleasant -- if not exceedingly memorable -- classmate, but C'vir had grown particularly adept at justifying avoiding his Renewed Hope fellows post-graduation. Theoretically, he thought, weyrlinghood's purpose was partially to force the weyrlings to cultivate trust, relationships, and alliances that would keep the weyr functioning healthily; he had spent his time in training avoiding those bonds, tending Besulth, and struggling to outperform his own insecurity complex. As a result, he preferred to evade the assumed familiarity that he occasionally encountered from those in his class.
It wouldn't hurt you to have a few friends, or if you can't bear the thought of that particular word, allies.
Full of advice today, I see, the rider murmured more scathingly than he'd intended, fixing his gaze, which had strayed with his thoughts, firmly back on the bluerider.
"V'zire is the type to require some wooing," he recalled idly, more to himself than to Z'ia. He held back the barking laugh inspired by the bluerider's deadpan remark on D'hys, settling instead for a single lifted brow as he began to rediscover his own nonchalance. "Is he now?" He tipped his chin forward in mock seriousness. "Sounds like you may be getting a better deal than V'zire, depending on what exactly being your bitch entails."
See?! You can have bitches if you don't want "friends!"
The brownrider forced his lips together to prevent the escape of a chuckle, pausing as Aveleth, who appeared to have finished bathing, ambled onto shore to regard them all warily. Besulth crooned softly in greeting. Welcome back, my bathing blue beauty. They're finally talking about something interesting.
The brown, firelizard vendetta further reinforced, settled reluctantly, training a watchful eye on Plague as his rider continued conversing.
C'vir dutifully filed away the information about D'hys and V'zire's budding relationship, hoping that it would prevent him from asking future stupid questions pertaining to the two. Faranth, I'm behind on things. I should be paying more attention.
Disconcerted, the brownrider spent a moment placing both mentioned riders. His eventual success at mentally locating their faces, along with the reference to V'zire's nickname, jarred his memory more properly than their honorifics had. D'hys had been willfully forgotten; any thought of the bluerider brought with it the thought of the man's smile, which was dangerous. V'zire had been a perfectly pleasant -- if not exceedingly memorable -- classmate, but C'vir had grown particularly adept at justifying avoiding his Renewed Hope fellows post-graduation. Theoretically, he thought, weyrlinghood's purpose was partially to force the weyrlings to cultivate trust, relationships, and alliances that would keep the weyr functioning healthily; he had spent his time in training avoiding those bonds, tending Besulth, and struggling to outperform his own insecurity complex. As a result, he preferred to evade the assumed familiarity that he occasionally encountered from those in his class.
Full of advice today, I see, the rider murmured more scathingly than he'd intended, fixing his gaze, which had strayed with his thoughts, firmly back on the bluerider.
"V'zire is the type to require some wooing," he recalled idly, more to himself than to Z'ia. He held back the barking laugh inspired by the bluerider's deadpan remark on D'hys, settling instead for a single lifted brow as he began to rediscover his own nonchalance. "Is he now?" He tipped his chin forward in mock seriousness. "Sounds like you may be getting a better deal than V'zire, depending on what exactly being your bitch entails."
The brownrider forced his lips together to prevent the escape of a chuckle, pausing as Aveleth, who appeared to have finished bathing, ambled onto shore to regard them all warily. Besulth crooned softly in greeting.