Righting Wrongs

So, Tyrrisath had failed to catch Rilaleeyth. That didn't bode well.

As much as A'liran loved to see a cruel brownrider put in his place, he also knew when it wasn't the time to tempt fate. A'liran was small, handsome, and worst of all, feisty. Everything S'kef liked. He'd met with dreaded S'kef of Tyrrisath before, both locked in the bonds of flight and on a more literal battlefield. A'liran's back didn't bear the same horrible scars as some less fortunate greenriders, but he would always remember the sting of that whip.

Some dragons couldn't be slew through conventional warfare. A'liran opted for a tactical retreat.

He moved to the dining hall after the flight, settling himself at a crowded table and taking an exceptionally long time with his meal. Things happened after flights. Sometimes, the frustrated losers vented themselves in unhealthy ways. It wasn't too much of a problem normally; most of them would go home or get drunk or something. Maybe track down a willing wench or stolen northerner who needed some comfort. Not all of them were monsters. Not many of them would go too far.

S'kef would, though. There was some sort of incident almost every time he lost that damn green's flights. It was usually violence. Bullying. Shoving. Insults. But A'liran knew himself well enough to realize that if S'kef spit at him, he'd spit back. And he would lose. Best just to avoid him.

A'liran couldn't imagine how wrong things had gone this time, though.

He left the dining hall late, around a half hour after Rilaleeyths screeching stopped. Aveleth won Astoreth commented with mild amusement. Aveleth wasn't an uncommon sight in her own flights, and had won them often enough that A'liran considered Z'ia a personal nemesis. A'liran smirked. J'ver and Z'ia, huh? Those assholes deserve each other

A'liran stood up and started to head home. He was sure it would be safe by now. In fact, he was just a little bit ashamed for even being concerned. He'd never have admitted it, obviously. He would deny it to his death, but that brownrider...he unnerved  A'liran.

Greenriders couldn't show fear in the face of bullies like that, though. Showing fear was an invitation.

A'liran was starting to relax when he felt Astoreth nudge him lightly. A'liran. You must look. She sounded dour, with a streak of darkness and resentment lurking behind her sweet voice.

A'liran paused and let his eyes drift as she bid them. A storage room?

The greenrider approached and pushed the door open. "Hello?"

You are... all right? Right? Niskziath's voice made the softest invasion into his thoughts. V'zire had managed to keep his dragon at bay for a while, but he knew she'd eventually find out what had happened. Niskziath was such a gentle and sweet dragon that V'zire didn't want this to bring her down with him. They were a pair, though, and they had gone through trouble together before. It was evident they would have to do so again.

'I'm okay.' Even his own thoughts didn't reassure him that much. However, it was enough to persuade Niskziath that her bonded was well enough for now. He could feel her concern pressing on the edges of his consciousness, but she respected her bonded's boundaries. Niskziath couldn't understand why her bonded didn't want to let her in on her thoughts, but she wasn't about to upset him by doing what he didn't want her to. Niskziath was a good Green, not like all those silly Greens who liked to know everyone's business. Not that she did not like those Greens! Because she certainly did, she just didn't... agree with nosing around.

I will be here. Come home soon, I don't want you to be alone. Something was wrong, she just did not know what. She just knew enough that expressing her care for V'zire was essential.

'I'll be there in a little bit, I promise.'

S'kef had left, which V'zire was silently thankful for. He had no idea what the brownrider was capable of, and he didn't want to get dragged into anything worse than he had already been pulled through. He was all right, or so he told himself. This sort of thing happened to Greenriders. It was just the way things were. Though he had said he'd tell someone about it, he wasn't sure if he could actually bring himself to move right now let alone actually tell someone that S'kef had forced himself on him. What would they do? Pat his back and tell him that it'll be all right?

The Greenrider sucked in a shaky breath, pressing his bare back against the cold storage wall. He held his cut shirt in his hands, vaguely sad that it wasn't repairable. It was one of his favorite shirts too... That loss was easier to think about rather than what he had truly lost in this situation. He lost his sense of security, and maybe a little bit of his innocence.

He was forced out of his own thoughts as the door swung open and he heard a voice. For a second he was convinced that it was S'kef again, though he had no idea why the brownrider would be after him again. It took him a few moments to realize that it wasn't the brownrider, and that set him into panic again. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. "O-Oh, hi A'liran." He knew the rider as more of an acquaintance, but still well enough to be able to tell who he was even in the dark.

Oh. A'liran's brows furrowed as he realized who he'd stumbled upon. It was V'zire; possibly the most delicate and gentle man A'liran had ever met, of any faction. A'liran could still remember their first meeting, where his own fierce temper had startled V'zire and made their first meeting awkward, to say the least.

There needed to be more greenriders like V'zire, A'liran thought. People to break the stereotypes and prove the masses wrong. Unfortunately, being different appeared to come with consequences.

It didn't take a lot of thought to figure out what had happened. The torn clothes, the tears. A'liran's jaw clenched in anger. "Who did this?" he snapped suddenly, his voice constricting. His eyes scanned the dark room, picking up on the silhouettes and slowly piecing the clues together in his mind. He waited a long moment for the answer, then stepped forward regardless of whether or not he'd been given it.  He wasn't even paying any attention; he didn't need an answer. He knew.

S'kef and Tyrrisath Astoreth said, for the blamed the dragon just as much as the rider. The dragon could have stopped it. She knew he could have.

A'liran seated himself against the wall and grunted. He reached out to examine the shredded shirt and frowned. "....I could probably get someone to patch this for you," he commented lightly, roughly...not sure what to say to console his fellow greenrider. He sneered. He wasn't much for fluffy sentimental stuff, but his concern was visible through sheer effort alone.

There was an awkward pause, then he sighed. "Dude...I'm so sorry."

I'm so sorry

He visibly flinched when A'liran demanded to know who had been responsible for V'zire's current state. It was shameful how easily A'liran pieced everything together. V'zire hadn't meant for his distress to be so obvious, but then again he had no idea someone was going to walk in on him before he could find his composure once again. All he would have needed was just a little more time to settle his thoughts, long enough for the ache to leave his body and the pain in his heart to recede. He could have at least looked fine then, but as things were he was far from being fine.

V'zire pulled his legs in against his chest, trying to hide what had happened to him regardless of it already being too late for that. Hazel eyes peered anxiously over to the other Greenrider, observing the flourish of emotions on his face. A'liran had the anger that V'zire could not bring himself to feel. He was sad, ashamed, but right now he just couldn't feel angry. He should be, had every right to be.

The shirt had been passed over to A'liran, and V'zire crossed his arms awkwardly at his chest to hide that nakedness. Normally he wouldn't be this sensitive, but considering what had just happened he was well within his rights to try and hide himself, protect himself. "Y-you don't have to. I'm not sure it'd even turn out well if patched. T-the seam would be noticeable, and I couldn't look at it." It was easier to talk about his shirt than it was to talk about S'kef. He couldn't bring himself to even answer A'liran's question of who had done it. If he didn't talk about it, maybe he'd forget it ever happened quicker.

"It's... okay. It wasn't a-as bad as it could have been." He felt so wrong for even saying that, but it was something he'd say to Niskziath to keep her from worrying over him.

Shards. I hate that insufferable, wherfaced bastard....Sharding wish someone would kill him and get it over with A'liran thought angrily. Astoreth hissed softly in her wallow, eyes flushing red as she drank in her rider's anger. She liked his spirit and his anger. It made her feel justified in her own.

Perhaps someday, someone will the green crooned. But I'd prefer it not be you. I enjoy living, and I hardly want to throw myself between because you were a hero she said, almost playfully. Though if this upsets you so, perhaps some comeuppance is in order?

A'liran laughed cruelly. It wasn't at V'zire, though he felt the need to explain himself a moment later. "Ast is reminding me not to kill the fucker," he said. He sighed and slumped against the wall, his grey eyes sinking shut as he thought back to the several times he'd met the brownrider on bad terms.

"I know you you feel, man," A'liran said with an edge of gritty unpleasantness. "Tyrrisath has flown Ast plenty of times since we all hooked up again. Grumpy bastard usually goes for seconds, if you know what I mean." And any greenrider would. A'liran doubted V'zire had suffered from such abuse yet. He was too sweet and innocent. He was too shocked by what had happened.

What was A'liran supposed to tell him to do, get over it? That's what many would say, but that wasn't good enough. It wasn't good enough.

"Fuck. Come on, let's get ya home, pal," A'liran said, climb ing to his feet and holding one hand out. "...I won't let anyone else screw with you, okay?"

V'zire wasn't the type of person who could truly feel the sort of anger that A'liran felt. He couldn't bring himself to think of getting S'kef seriously harmed for what he had done to him. He wanted the man to be punished for what he did, but who really would rise to his defense? V'zire certainly didn't think far enough to want the brownrider dead either. He just wanted some justice, which was what Katila seemed to be sorely lacking these days. "I-I would prefer it if you didn't, too." Again his voice was soft enough that if someone wasn't listening for it, his words would be unintelligible.

He really didn't want to talk about S'kef though, and as A'liran commented about the previous Weyrsecond winning Astoreth's flights he grew uncomfortable. V'zire knew what the man was capable of firsthand, and did not want to have to hear what else he could do. A lot of people probably suffered because of that one man, and it was terrible. It made him feel sick, so much so that he wasn't sure he could move if he wanted to. "I j-just don't understand why he would..." and he really couldn't get out much more than that. He'd start crying if he thought about it more.

V'zire hesitated just a little when A'liran held out a hand to him. His gaze tilted upwards, eyes a little glossy but trusting nonetheless. He reached out to take A'liran's hand and pulled himself to his feet. His other hand bunched the fabric of his pants at his hip, holding them up. S'kef's knife had cut a slit through them that had made it easy for him to remove them. V'zire had quickly reclaimed them when the dirty act had been finished, desperately needing the security of being clothed. "O-okay," he answered mutely. "I don't think anyone would want to t-touch me right now anyways."

After a few seconds, he offered A'liran the tiniest, most uncertain smile. "Thank you."

A'liran didn't understand how anyone couldn't be angry. What was the phrase again? If you aren't angry, you aren't paying attention? But what about people like V'zire, who so obviously knew about the wrongs in their world, yet lacked the strength to do anything about it? A'liran may not have had any power, but he was at least willing to take them on anyhow. This other greenrider, though...he was soft, gentle, and in a strange sense, incorruptible. His place wasn't on the front lines. Look how he was even now, unable to lash out at his attacker, free of the biting hatred...

A'liran smiled, in spite of the bile in his throat. He helped V'zire stand and gripped his hand for a moment, lightly clasping it with his other hand and nodding. "It's not a problem. Come on."

He could feel Astoreth's curiosity stirring. Like so many things in the human world, she didn't understand what the big deal about this was. It was just a simple incident, right? Wouldn't the pain pass? She remained silent on the subject, knowing well that even if she didn't get it, it bothered A'liran. Anything that bothered him was worth sparing a bit of empathy for.

Is there anything I can do? she asked cautiously, keeping her words private between herself and her rider.

Not really, Ast. Unless you wanna go chomp S'kef

You know I can't do that. I'm certain he's bitter she said with pointed amusement. A'liran snorted aloud as he pushed the door open and gently led V'zire outside.

"Do you need someone to look after you tonight, pal?" A'liran asked as he cautiously looked to his left and his right, sharp eyes looking out for any signs of trouble. "I don't wanna just leave you all alone if you're scared or whatever. I dare that wher to come around you again..."

He didn't even know this greenrider, but here was was threatening to to battle with someone he secretly feared. It wasn't that A'liran was so easily infatuated. At this moment, V'zire and his plight represented everything that was wrong with dragonrider society. Everything that had been wrong before the plague. Everything that had gotten worse since.

V'zire couldn't think of a reason why S'kef would come back so soon. The man had gotten what he wanted, and unsurprisingly had went on with whatever tormented business he had in store for the rest of the Weyr's population. The brownrider was sick, and V'zire wondered how a dragon found him fit enough to Impress. He pitied the poor beast, because V'zire couldn't imagine anyone wanting to willingly be bound to that man. V'zire would consider himself fortunate if that was the most he had to deal with from S'kef. But... he wasn't sure, and that thought scared him.

There really was no reason for him to make A'liran stay and watch over him. It was a mildly greedy thought, and yet at the same time the thought of having anyone close to him for an extended period of time made him sick. "I-I don't need to take up more of your time, A'liran," V'zire answered with a hollow smile. The offer was certainly kind, but V'zire had no idea what he was going to be like when he got to the sanctuary of his own hut. He felt like breaking down again and crying where no one could see him. Even then he was scared to release his emotions. He had Niskziath's well being to think of.

Maybe it'd be a good idea to have A'liran stay, so he could keep himself composed.  But that thought had come too late, as he'd already politely declined the offer. "I don't think he'll come around again so soon. He got what he wanted, after all." V'zire reasoned with A'liran. It really would be selfish of him to have A'liran fuss over him more, and V'zire was in general far from being a selfish individual.

He walked alongside A'liran, carefully staying close to the other greenrider, as if he'd use him as a shield if any more trouble did happen to come their way. V'zire was sure he couldn't take much more than what he had already been made to suffer through.

A'liran glanced at V'zire as they walked along, trying his best to interpret the man's behavior. V'zire was saying one thing, but almost certainly meaning another. A'liran had never understood that. It made it hard to know what to say in response. Was V'zire actually going to be all right, or was he trying to hint that A'liran should remain at his hut afterall? Why not just say it, for the sake of modesty?

The greenrider's cynicism faded a little bit as he looked his colleague over. V'zire was a mess, and well, A'liran remembered the way he felt after his first bad flight. This has to be something similar. There had been anger, yes, but also dejection. The feeling of uselessness and powerlessness was overwhelming, the sort of thing a man could drown in. Someone delicate like V'zire? He probably felt like a burden.

Yeah, that was it. A'liran softened and reached out to lightly pat V'zire's shoulder, not sure else how to comfort him. 'Dude," he said encouragingly, "If you want me to stay, just say so. I'm not worried about it. All I'm gonna do at home is lay around a while and go to sleep anyhow."

Maybe V'zire wanted to be alone. Maybe he needed to be alone. A'liran sure had those days. But would leaving him alone be safe? It was a puzzle, and  A'liran didn't like puzzles. He shook his head, as if doing so would remove his confusion. "Only if you want, though. I mean, it's not a problem to me either way. I just..." He trailed off, his eyes narrowing with angry remembrance. "I just know how it goes, okay? And I want to help if I can. Whers like S'kef...they think they can have anything they want from us. That's why we have to take care of each other."

V'zire was used to being unconditionally nice, but was not necessarily used to receiving such kindness, especially out of a stranger. It would have made him smile if he had the energy to, so instead he just nodded his head in a silent acceptance of A'liran's comfort. Some would be skeptical to V'zire's naturally trusting nature. He had just underwent an experience he hadn't yet been forced to go through, but already was so willing to trust a greenrider he was only vaguely familiar with. As far as he saw it, things couldn't get much worse than they already had. A'liran really had no reason to take advantage of him, and he recognized kindness when he saw it.

"I just... didn't want to be a bother. You've already done enough for me," he reiterated, but it was clear now that he did want A'liran to stay with him. It didn't have to be all night, as far as he was concerned. Just... a little bit of time, so he wouldn't get scared, so his mind wouldn't drift back to what had just happened to him. He needed a distraction, and he wasn't about to drown himself in alcohol to get away from his own treacherous thoughts.

"I guess I just don't understand why someone would want to take anything away from someone else. I've never been like that myself, though. I don't find it much of an accomplishment to take away something that isn't going to be given to me willingly. It's... wrong, and I always like to think people know the difference between right and wrong." His pace was slow, his body evidently sore. V'zire, despite being a greenrider, did not get around much. He had one partner that could only remotely be considered steady, and that was because his dragon kept on winning Niskziath's flights. Outside of that, V'zire was not with anyone. He didn't want to be, and that feeling was now intensified after what he had gone through.

"That's the problem, pal," A'liran said as he walked along. He looked around periodically, scanning the darkness for any signs of toruble. He knew it was a bit paranoid to expect something else to happen, but he couldn't help himself. Seeing V'zire's pain intensified his own resentment, but it also inspired just a hint of fear in him. A'liran knew that at the end of the day, many of those above wouldn't see a difference between an aggressive greenrider like himself or a sweet one like V'zire. If they did, it might not be the kind of difference he hoped for, either.

Maybe it just brought back memories. Memories of bad flights, memories of nights out gone wrong. A'liran loved to blame his attacks, but he also knew he brought some of it on himself. It didn't excuse his attacks for their crimes, but what did he expect would happen when he picked fights he knew he couldn't win? Was it the thrill of the conflict? Did he enjoy danger?

A little bit, but not when he had someone to protect.

After his pause, he spoke again. "....That's the problem," he repeated. "Some of them DO know right from wrong, but they just don't care. It's all about what they can get for themselves." He shook his head as he spoke. "You're pretty tough stuff." A'liran admired the trusting, gentle nature he was in his fellow greenrider. V'zire was a little bit skittish or whatever, yeah...but his innocence and sweetness were unmarred by what he'd gone through. A'liran almost wished he had the same quality that made that possible, but it was a fleeting through. He'd never been very innocent, or sweet. What he saw in V'zire was a different kind of strength than what he possessed. It was a shame so few would recognize it.

Any sign of him?

Nope. Tyrrisath and his rider have gone to sleep, I believe

Thank Faranth

A'liran paused as an idea came to him. He smiled, then reached into his pocket. "Once we get you home, how do you feel about a game of dragon poker?" he inquired, pulling out a pack of cards. Poor V'zire would need something to distract him that evening.

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I figure at this point, they're almost back. New thread?