Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman 
azhct[M:-1490]
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Post by Azhdarchid on May 18, 2011 21:39:30 GMT -5
The arrangement had been made. Qosis was first to arrive. Not unexpected, from his point of view. It was one of those exceptionally warm days that heralded Summer. He stood at the Candidates' entrance of the Sands, trying to peer around the tumbling blue waterfall to the queens' weyrs. Though he had his jacket slouched over his shoulders just like he had worn it the first day he met Xirofel, it was no longer out of necessity. There were no bandages or slings beneath to restrain him this time.
He surveyed the wriggling curve of the Weyr walls, though he had passed them so many times in more casual pursuits he felt he could follow the shape blind. If Xirofel had any sense he would have been learning the curves and the places where the Bowl floor dipped despite apparent levelness. Qosis had certainly seen him enough flitting around the muddy dawn hours, but he ran like a wherry with its head cut off. No discipline. It was just one of the reasons the lad would lose today. Then, perhaps, he could count Xirofel as humbled enough to ride a dragon-- not merely fly off with one.
Lifting the hip-flask off his belt, the trader sipped an atypical tonic of pure water while he waited. It was the noon 'mark, and again if Xirofel was in the least bit intelligent he would not have stuffed himself on lunch beyond the lightest foods, the ones that were the most energizing for their weight. Qosis had taken the most obvious choice: herdbeast blood soup. He was still licking his lips over it.
[ OOC: Xirofel and Qosis are having a race. Spectators of any sort are welcome. You don't have to post every round or anything. Boo, you may jump in whenever you deem it most traumatizing. ]
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Sakoru
Drudge
THE FEARSOME FIERY BEAST
Posts: 11
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Post by Sakoru on May 18, 2011 23:06:01 GMT -5
Considering how warm it was, it would be no surprise to anyone that Xirofel wasn't wearing a jacket. Even if he had been, he probably would have taken it off ages ago, given his habit of flitting around everywhere pretty much at top speed. Happily, this had made him quite fit: he'd need it, considering how fast he knew Qosis could run. The man had a leg up on him in speed, and although he didn't expect to win, Xiro figured that it would be a good experience. And if he did win, well... that would be a good experience, too.
Regardless of the future outcome of the race, however, the trader was in an excellent mood. The sunlight agreed with him -- while he'd endured many harsh Northern winters, he'd always liked spring and summer best, and he gained more energy than he lost from the pleasant heat. No weather was capable of tiring him out, and certainly not when it was so undeniably lovely outside!
Enjoying it, Xiro jogged lightly along the edge of the Bowl, his hound Lakeeti at his side. She wasn't quite as fond of the weather as he, but both of them were content enough, trotting along to go meet Qosis. The trader, humming to himself, felt light and quick - just as he should for a race. Granted, he wasn't entirely sure that his much shorter legs could even begin to match the other candidate's, but he was certainly going to try! Faranth knew that Qosis had been sure enough of himself back when the challenge was first made, and naturally Xirofel wanted to prove that there was no basis for it. He was not, however, stupid enough to try and brag his way to victory even when he loped up to stand next to the other trader.
The noon meal certainly hadn't been a heavy one for the trader. Wound up on enough energy to power a team of herdbeasts, he'd had only a small bowl of soup and a drink of water, and then he'd called it a meal. Otherwise he was not only going to be too heavy to run, but probably so energetic that he'd drive not only Qosis but himself insane. Lacky couldn't be bothered to be annoyed; she merely dropped her haunches to the ground and watched her owner as he glanced up at his opponent and grinned. Even if he wasn't sure of his speed, he'd at least memorized the floor of the Bowl pretty well; nothing about it surprised him anymore. That, at least, might help him, although he was sure that the other trader knew the terrain just as well and possibly better.
"Ello, there! Ready for this?" His tone was bright, as unfailingly so as Rukbat itself, but Xirofel knew better than to let any arrogance slip into it. He didn't feel like having any bluffs called, and so he made none, instead opting to survey their chosen route one last time. Once that was done, the trader drew in a deep breath, trying to steady the jitters of irrational excitement that jolted through his bloodstream. Then again, 'irrational' was a pretty good word to use to describe anything Xiro did. Such as this race, for instance: the one he was determined to win, if he had any opportunity at all to do so. The sun was shining, the Bowl was dry, and he felt quick enough to beat a runner to the only water in a desert. He just hoped Qosis didn't feel the same. |
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Post by kayleetonkslupin on May 18, 2011 23:57:46 GMT -5
Aidan appeared at the entrance to the Sands, having followed his roommate and friend. Over the past couple months, he'd gotten stronger, and found it easier to keep up with the bigger boy. "Xiro! Faranth, Xiro, what're you doing all the way out here? This is a much longer run than I'm used to," he said with a nervous grin. "Going to look for dragons?" He peered out on the Sands. Were there any? Faranth, had his 'adopted brother' even heard him?
Then he saw Qosis. Oh. Wonderful. He knew the two didn't exactly get on, so he cast a wary eye on Qosis and kept a safe distance. That explained Xiro's one-track mind. Ducking out of sight, Aidan dropped down by Lacky, watching from a safer spot. This had better go all right for Xiro, he thought, running his fingers through the canine's fur. "Easy, Lacky-girl," he said softly, "Xiro'll be all right." He hoped.
Biting his lip, he watched with bated breath, hoping against hope that everything would turn out all right.
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
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Post by Azhdarchid on May 19, 2011 14:13:58 GMT -5
He did not answer Xirofel immediately, watching the other trader's tagalong get settled instead. Once Aidan had been acknowledged-- by that flat olive-eyed stare --Qosis turned back sharply to the blood-betrayer.
"You're still here," he announced in a tone that suggested he already had victory in-hand. He smiled at Xirofel, then dispensed the pleasantry and outlined the Absolute Order this race would have. "One time around the Bowl," he began, grabbing the brown jacket from his shoulders and tossing it to the ground. "There's the line," he laughed. "Never more than two arm-lengths from the wall unless you're going around the other person." He reached over and patted at Xiro's head. "We'll use your arm-length, exile. No cutting across the middle of the Bowl; you can only use the northernmost bridge here and the southernmost."
They had no referees to ensure these rules were followed. It was on their honor...which meant he would be at a significant disadvantage to Xirofel. "No throwing knives at your competitor. No sending your pup after your competitor. No calling your friends' firelizards to attack your competitor." He moved over by the jacket and stretched out the sleeve to make a disheveled starting line. "Don't step on this jacket. It's ugly enough already." Qosis leaned down and set his fingertips against the stone, then stood back up and rocked his weight a little. "See the shadow that tall rock is making on the west wall?" He pointed till Xirofel got the image. "When it hits the top of the brim weyr with the sleeping Pink on the ledge, we start."
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Sakoru
Drudge
THE FEARSOME FIERY BEAST
Posts: 11
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Post by Sakoru on May 19, 2011 18:31:10 GMT -5
Xiro had barely heard any of Aidan's questions to him, and so he'd failed to answer a single thing. Although he was aware of the smaller boy following him, it was in the sort of detached manner that meant he forgot it as soon as he took note. His roommate wasn't any kind of a threat to him; he was just sort of there. And, while Xirofel liked him very much, it didn't mean that he was paying a great deal of attention to him today.
As a matter of fact, no, the trader hadn't heard a single word the other candidate had said. His mind was focused entirely on the quick, steady movements that were bringing him closer to Qosis and, when he arrived, they latched onto the man himself. Not once did he even glance back towards Aidan and Lacky; he trusted the canine to stay in her spot, and, well, he didn't even really realize Aidan was there.
At least, not until the taller candidate stared at something behind him, and Xiro twisted too by reflex, brows drawing together in mild confusion when he noticed Aidan. Oh. Right. He lifted a hand and waved it slightly, but otherwise gave no greeting, turning back to his opponent. Full of energy, he chortled at Qosis' remark, cocking a brow. "Until the Hatching, at least," he clarified, ignoring the other man's tone. No need to let himself be baited.
Content enough to let the other trader set the rules, Xiro listened intently, and nodded. Once around the Bowl - that was fair, and besides, they'd agreed upon it before. The line -- well, it was a little unconventional, but it would do. Upon the arm-length remark, though, the trader rolled his eyes and ducked neatly out of the way of the incoming hand, stepping over to the wall to dutifully measure out his own arm lengths. "I'm not that much of a cheater," he protested with a wink. "Besides, I'm pretty sure I can't swim faster than I can run." Obviously. Did Qosis really think he was going to try to cut through the lake?
Although he'd been smiling before, the expression transformed itself into a smirk as the gigantic trader laid out further rules. "No firelizards," he agreed brightly, but obligingly pressed the fabric of his shirt close against his hips to reveal that he was not in fact carrying a knife. His favourite one had been taken away and, while he still generally carried one of his spare blades tucked into his boot, he wasn't in the habit of getting the rest of them confiscated. Even Aidan wasn't likely to have caught a glimpse of his knives -- he had them well hidden and besides, he didn't really want to scare his roommate. They weren't actually there for killing people, after all, regardless of what others tended to think.
Lifting his gaze to figure out exactly what Qosis was pointing at, it didn't take long for Xirofel to get the image. "All right," he agreed amiably, and idly cracked his shoulders, now staring at the shadow intently. It seemed to be moving pretty slowly, but already it was close to its mark. The trader shifted slightly, the sheer energy burning in his veins making him twitch slightly with the need to run. While he couldn't wander properly in such a small place, he could dash around and make things feel like they were actually moving. Only that ability had kept him sane in the past couple of months, and now it would no doubt prove useful. Having sprinted around the Bowl every morning and evening plus a few late-night runs when he couldn't sleep, Xiro figured that his activity had better serve him well.
Lakeeti, sitting in her chosen spot, wagged her tail enthusiastically when Aidan arrived and sat next to her. Ears pricked, she gave him a perfunctory lick on the face, then merely sat and enjoyed the petting. While she didn't really understand any of what the boy was telling her, she was watching her human intently, knowing that she was to stay here but not exactly knowing why. Still, when her human wasn't giving her orders and wasn't playing with her, she generally defaulted to staying put.
Xiro didn't. Assuming that Qosis was observing the pink's weyr as attentively as he himself was, the trader gave no warning before he took off, abruptly flinging himself into motion. He hadn't waited more than a split second after seeing the shadow land in the starting position. He'd also put himself on the inside edge of the route, where his speed might compensate for his shorter strides. Whether or not his opponent was already closing the distance between them he didn't know, but Xirofel had started at a swift pace. He knew he could handle it -- he'd run this same route dozens of times by now, often at speeds much greater than this, and he wouldn't burn out. The trick was making sure he could keep pushing himself to at least keep up with Qosis. While he'd seen the other trader run, he didn't know if he'd seen his top speed. At least he'd seen the terrain... he knew all the dips and ruts in the ground: everything that was likely to disadvantage him. Like that rock he knew lay not far ahead -- he'd have to hurdle it... but then, so would his competitor. It extended all the way from the wall, providing a nice little obstacle to spring over. Xiro was looking forward to it. |
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
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Post by Azhdarchid on May 19, 2011 21:39:39 GMT -5
Physics, though neither trader had probably ever contemplated the subject, worked against the taller racer. His muscle counted for less when trying to move his own body than Xirofel's did for his. He certainly accelerated slower, though he moved off the start in a conservative explosion of motion that probably spared more energy than Xirofel's violent spring into competition. But Qosis had faced gangly trader boys before. His own caravan was full of them. His own kin, who he barely resembled, had a fair share of short, slender males.
Boys like Xirofel were not even fully developed. To lose to one would be like a stallion losing to a colt. And even Xirofel should know that Qosis had far more experience racing than he did, even when it was not exactly firsthand. As they crossed off the northern bridge, the stoneblood's foot struck the Bowl floor first, and from there he easily pulled away from Xirofel's frenetic smaller steps. He indulged himself on that inside track Xirofel had been coveting now that the lad was too far back to occupy the same lane.
Furthermore, he calculated his paces and managed to simply overstep a divot that would have to be negotiated by the shorter-legged Candidate. Immediately following was that first natural hurdle, and Qosis vaulted it without so much as scraping a toe. He looked over his shoulder, slowing as he did so, but aware he could bring himself back to that dominating full speed in an instant. He was comfortable enough to read the terrain blind. Qosis raised one arm and made a faint, sportsman-like salute at Xirofel...followed by one of the ruder gestures among the Northern Continent holdless.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
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Post by Boo on May 19, 2011 21:54:37 GMT -5
It was such a wonderful day that Fel wasn't entirely certain that spending all her time inside was such a fun idea. More importantly, she had a day off! Why would she spend it indoors when she could spend time outside? She skipped out of the candidate Barracks and towards the Weyrbowl intent upon getting her moment of sunshine for the day. She was so happy to have a day completely chore free. She wanted to see some dragons though. She'd eaten quite a large amount at lunch so really just wanted to lie somewhere and watch the dragons flying in the sky. Perhaps there would be some Wings training. That would be exciting.
She arrived in the Weyrbowl, limp even slighter today than normal and not painful in the slightest as the weather was somewhat warmer so she didn't feel all that concerned about the older injury. It rarely played up really and it didn't cause all that much pain anymore. Thankfully, the movement involved in being a candidate had really served to almost rehabilitate her.
She squinted a little and spotted a dog and a boy sitting next to her. As Fel got closer the dog became even more familiar to her. It really looked a lot like Lakeeti. She hated her brother for that. Not only had he left her but he'd taken one of her closest friends too. Well, the boy sitting beside the dog must have been the owner.
The closer she got to the pair the more confused she became. It had the exact same markings as Lacky. That wasn't right... Not at all... She stopped and looked about the Weyrbowl. She saw only a couple of people and two boys running but they were too far away for her to see their faces.
Something was really, really not right here.
"Lacky...?" She asked tentatively.
It must have been wrong. She was wrong. There was no way her brother would have just left her dog alone somewhere. Still, her eyes narrowed at the thought. Not only had he taken her dog but he hadn't even had the decency to keep caring for her either. |
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Sakoru
Drudge
THE FEARSOME FIERY BEAST
Posts: 11
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Post by Sakoru on May 19, 2011 22:17:15 GMT -5
As soon as Qosis began to pass him, Xirofel gave up the idea of running this thing at anything even slightly less than top speed. Unfortunately, gaining ground was harder than losing it. The shorter trader lengthened his stride as much as possible, tried to quicken the action of his legs without inadvertently taking himself out. It worked, to some extent: he stopped falling behind as he kicked into high gear, but he wasn't catching up yet.
Ah, there was that rock. Knowing about the dip in the ground that came before it, Xiro gathered himself, and launched himself straight up and forward, landing on the other side and waiting not a heartbeat before taking the opportunity to spring off the next hurdle without losing speed. He'd gained a bit of ground there, and he pushed himself harder, trying to gain more. If he could catch up, he could get ahead of Qosis and win.
The other trader made the mistake of glancing back, and Xiro used the opportunity to gain on him. Not by much - just a stride or two - but considering how much shorter his legs were, it was appreciated all the same. The gesture, however, was not; the candidate narrowed his eyes and flipped Qosis a similar sign, then concentrated on his running. He wasn't even close to tiring yet, but he wasn't sure how much faster he could run.
Time to find out. If not in a race, then when? Throwing all caution to the winds, the trader forced himself to run faster. Faster. He had to go faster, but his muscles either didn't want to or couldn't. Still, he'd caught up to within a few strides... and it was growing increasingly frustrating that he couldn't close the distance. Faster. Had to go faster. By now he was totally ignoring the other trader except for the purposes of knowing where he was; he wasn't going to cheat and null the race, but he sharding well wanted to catch up! And pass the smug bastard, if he could. He hadn't lost the wind in his blood -- Qosis had, and that should count against him. Had that been literal, Xiro would have won already. As it was, he was still fighting to catch up, refusing to give up even when he nearly killed himself springing over a rock that he really shouldn't have been able to clear. He did, though, for the sake of competition. He was not going around the things that Qosis could just bound over!
Lacky had been watching her owner in silence, panting softly in the warmth. Her tail had ceased to wag, and she was merely attentive now: aware of the boy at her side, but paying him no attention. His hand on her back was ignored, and the hound stared after Xirofel, watching every move he made. She didn't know precisely what was going on, but she understood the concept of chasing prey. It looked like her master was hunting... but why? She'd never seen him chase other people before -- normally he didn't bother. Had she been able to ask, she would have -- at least, if she hadn't heard her name.
Perking up, the hound turned her head, and then sprang to her feet, barking at the girl. She remembered her! Tail wagging enthusiastically, the hound paid her companion no more attention, and bounded towards Fel, barking again before skidding to a halt in front of her. Entire body wriggling with her energy, she pricked her ears and licked at the girl's hand. This was her human's sister! She remembered her, very well, and all the love that she'd heaped on her! Whatever was she doing here? Whatever the answer might be, it was clear that Lacky was excited to see her master's sister again; she looked up at the girl expectantly, obviously remembering what wonderful attention she'd lavished on her in turns past. |
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Post by kayleetonkslupin on May 19, 2011 22:50:27 GMT -5
Aidan turned from watching the race as the other candidate, a girl he didn't know, showed up. When she called Lacky to her, Aidan blinked. He blinked again when the canine answered the summons.
Getting up, Aidan took slow steps toward the girl. "Uh...hello. I guess Lacky knows you?" He didn't know much of anything about his roommate's family. "Then you know Xirofel, right? He's my roommate." Aidan gestured toward the two boys. "He's racing Qosis. Qosis doesn't like him. Oh...I'm Aidan. Dragon Candidate." Aidan blushed, not realizing he'd forgotten to say it until now. "I hope Xiro beats Qosis."
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
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Post by Azhdarchid on May 19, 2011 23:27:06 GMT -5
Xirofel could hope that all four winds would donate him enough speed to win, but it would never happen. All Qosis had to do was maintain a one-stride lead on the lad, for naturally that distance would broaden, accounting for the length disparities between their legs. But the precise measurement of the victory was lost on him as they veered toward the southern bridge. Qosis banked wide, and when he settled in on the bridge found Xirofel at his elbow. He only sensed the shadow of the other trader, diminutive but ascending beside his, trying to access that lead position from the favored inside track.
Where there was no longer wind in his blood, Qosis had actual reasons for winning. A need to do so that was not entirely physical, though the adrenaline that flowed now certainly never occurred in him during his morning and evening rounds. The demands of the moment manifested in a narrowing of the expansive Bowl in his eyes till only the track ahead was relevant. Even Xirofel's shadow was edited out, or maybe Qosis was just recovering his lead. He barged over another hurdle, this one new and unnatural: someone had piled a stack of precious wood outside the stores, probably for the feeding ground fences. It was not as tall as the prior outcrops, but it masked a sharp bump on the other side that Qosis navigated by simply jumping over it together with the stack.
His focus tunneled its way to the distant blotch of brown marking the finish line, blind to all the other ugly details.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
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Post by Boo on May 19, 2011 23:28:56 GMT -5
Fel couldn't believe it. Clearly the dog was either very friendly or she was responding to the name. Lacky. It was her dog! What was she doing here!? Fel dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around the dog tears streaming down her face as she petted the dog's fur feeling comforted at the sight of the hound.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, "I've missed you so much. Lacky..."
She kept crying and only belatedly realised that she was being spoken to.
She looked up, wiping her eyes at the person speaking to her, another candidate from the looks of it. Her smile slowly faltered as he spoke to her, making correct assumptions. Ones that made the anger boil inside of her. Her eyes were nearly slits as the rage overcame her.
"WHAT!? No! I hope he doesn't win! I hope he falls and hurts himself the selfish sharding wherry! I HATE HIM! I HATE HIM I HATE HIM!!" She shouted.
She turned around and scanned the Weyrbowl for the two runners she had seen before. This time she recognised the black hair of her brother. She was incredibly tense at the moment, hands clenched at her sides, arms straight as she stared at her brother, as though trying to set him on fire with her mind. She stalked off towards the edge of the Weyrbowl where she knew they would eventually run and waited there. She was going to show Xiro just how it felt to be abandoned. To be injured. How simple it would be to stick her foot out as he ran past so that he fell.
The dark smile that crossed over her face was not at all befitting the cheerful little thirteen year old she had been before when seeing the canine. She had so many things she wanted her brother to realise. To feel. |
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Post by kayleetonkslupin on May 19, 2011 23:41:35 GMT -5
Aidan's mouth fell open when she began shouting. Now his only thought was for Xiro. "Lacky! She's gone mad!" Aidan cried out. "Xiro needs our help!" He wheeled around, knowing he'd never catch up to the boys and shouting a warning. "XIRO! XIRO! WATCH OUT!" He gulped back sobs. She was his sister. His family. Wouldn't she be glad to see Xiro? But she had murder in her eyes. Xiro..."BIG BROTHER, WATCH OUT!" Aidan screamed. He was terrified, though the girl was only two years his elder.
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Sakoru
Drudge
THE FEARSOME FIERY BEAST
Posts: 11
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Post by Sakoru on May 20, 2011 0:05:20 GMT -5
While Xirofel was pleased that he'd managed to catch up, he didn't linger in the moment. There was a race to be won here, and he was determined to win it, pushing and pushing himself until his muscles refused to carry him along any faster. If he tried, he was literally going to run himself into the ground, and faceplanting did not generally constitute winning. Not in his book!
But the taller trader was pulling ahead again, just a little bit, and Xiro tried to go faster. He couldn't. Faster! Wasn't going to happen, replied his legs, and he kept on at the pace he'd previously chosen. It felt like he was moving blisteringly fast, and maybe he was, but Qosis was just a stride ahead of him, and no matter how he tried, he couldn't close the distance. The other trader might have been pulling ahead a little, or maybe not, but that ceased to matter when the pile of wood appeared in front of him. Definitely not an obstacle that had always been present!
A heroic leap found Xirofel safely on the other side of the wood, but his stride wasn't as long as his opponent's. He landed squarely on top of the bump, dropped his knees sharply and shot forward again. While he'd managed to avoid damage, he'd also lost speed and ground. Now he had to get it back, if he could. This meant forcing himself to work harder and sprint faster, but there was no getting back the lead he'd lost. Not that it had been a lead at all, but...
The finish line was in sight, now, and the trader threw away any limits he'd set on himself. Regardless of the screaming burn in his thighs, he kept pushing himself at top speed, and though he couldn't move any more swiftly the distance between him and Qosis stopped growing. He was just a stride behind -- one of the taller man's strides, naturally -- and he was so focused on trying to catch up again that he didn't even hear the warning until it was too late.
Watch out? Watch out for what? The scream puzzled him, but he didn't slow down.
Shame, that, because the next instant he was flying through the air in a manner that was definitely not reminiscent of running. He hadn't even registered the girl standing by the wall and, in the process of breezing past her, he was abruptly.. well.. not breezing anymore. A dull thud, a yelp, and he was on the ground, palms scraped raw and a gash across one of them. His forearms were scratched and bleeding right to the elbow, but he didn't care about that right now, although the wounds were beginning to sting. What the... there was nothing in his way that he hadn't known about.
That left one option. Rolling painfully over onto his back, Xiro pushed himself up into a sitting position, then froze when he realized who was staring at him. "Fel..." he whispered, race abruptly forgotten. Qosis had by now crossed the finish line - it had only been a few steps away - but the trader suddenly ceased to care. Dread was beginning to gnaw at the pit of his stomach, twisting his insides even as he rose to his feet, favouring his right knee. He'd slammed it into a rock on the way down, but the pain was inconsequential. So was Lakeeti, whining anxiously as she glanced between her two favourite humans.
For a moment, he considered just standing there, but then he turned and limped over the finish line, casting Qosis a wry glance as he did so. He'd been close... so close! Unfortunately, even the pleasure of keeping up had evaporated, and the trader's face would have been white if it hadn't been so deeply tanned. He turned slowly back to Fel, his little sister, and the only person who could have tripped him. Biting his lip, he moved to slip his hands into his pockets, then winced as it stung his mangled palms and stopped, staring wordlessly at his sister. Oh, she hated him. He could see that in her eyes, but he hadn't been expecting to ever have to face her wrath. He hadn't ever been expecting to see her again... and that was the entire problem.
Unable to hold Fel's gaze any longer, Xiro dropped his eyes to the ground. It didn't take a genius to know that this wasn't going to be pretty. |
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
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Post by Azhdarchid on May 20, 2011 20:46:23 GMT -5
Qosis stepped over the sleeve of his own jacket again, and stopped immediately. His shoulders rode each breath a bit, but he did not heave with true exhaustion or strain. Xirofel's shadow had disappeared from his peripheral view long ago, as far back as the wood pile they had to cross. One change in the track and the other trader had been doomed. Qosis had not raced anyone in his time at Dalibor, and now he had to admit to himself that little boys were no longer a fair challenge, no matter how sprightly they presented themselves. But even that point might not have sullied him if Xirofel had wheezed his way over the finish line a few seconds later, but his challenger showed no signs of presenting himself.
The older trader pivoted around, leaving the brown jacket where it lay and advancing on the scene of Xirofel's defeat. He had heard the exile's frantic yelp; it was how he knew there was no need to overrun the finish line. Qosis waited for the brightly-colored loser to limp over in a paltry, pointless finish, olive eyes tracking him and no one else. He could see the bloody smudges on Xirofel's palms, and the scarlet drip off one set of skinny fingers. Less than a poor challenge, Xirofel was completely useless. Whatever had troubled him with the wood stack, Qosis could tell the damage he saw was from a more recent fall. Tripping! On the final flat!
"What's wrong?" he snorted. Xirofel had denied him a dignified race. All he had to show for it was his victory, which did not fulfill his heart. Incredibly, the other trader could not even look him in the eye. In fact Xirofel was concerning himself with his shame for the spectators' sake rather than Qosis'. The tall Candidate rolled his eyes toward Aidan, Lakeeti...and the latest addition. The little girl joining the other two deserved a second's further consideration. She had Qosis' muddy green in her eyes, some of his brown in her skin and hair. But in themselves these were not unusual traits on Pern. Now that he had time to consider the other human spectator, he saw Aidan was fully a child too.
Dismissing both of them from view, he stepped in front of Xirofel, grabbing for the front of the traitor's shirt. Pulling the other Candidate up onto his boot-tips would be effortless. But despite whatever proximity Qosis enjoyed to his victim, he did not say anything. He only glared into Xiro's face till the loser acknowledged his position.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
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Post by Boo on May 21, 2011 9:21:58 GMT -5
Fel turned on the boy who had called out to Xiro and hissed in rage. How dare he!? Xiro was her brother and had left her for this other boy. What? Did he pick them up off the street now, build up their hope and then crush them. She was about to shout at the boy and indeed had thought to walk back when she noticed Xiro coming closer. Her foot casually stepped into his path almost without thought. Fel's expression became something of a smirk when she watched her brother fall in his little race. He had failed. Not so tough now. Not so strong. Not so perfect.
Then there was this other boy who had started on her brother. Good. Hopefully he'd beat the daylights out of him Fel only knew she couldn't do the same herself. But, oh no, she could do something better. She began limping over milking her very slight injury for all it was worth. She was acting as though she had suffered a worse injury than she had but it was enough. She didn't even have to fake the pained expression simply because her rage was greater.
More importantly, the tears that had fallen upon spotting Lacky had begun falling once more. Only, they were barely noticed by Fel as she limped over to her brother. She'd heard what he had to say.
"Oh you remember my name? How good for me!" She shouted at him, "I thought you must have forgotten it when you never sent anything to me."
She looked at the much older boy, eyes narrowed.
"Good, you lost. Now you know how it feels to lose something." She hissed.
She rounded on the younger boy, Aidan she thought his name and glared for a moment.
"But you found time for him! And for races. Good to know I don't matter to you."
She faked a whimper and grabbed her leg, playing the weak, injured child as best she could. Normally she would find pretending to have these emotions incredibly difficult but the anger she felt masked all her false actions well enough. |
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Post by kayleetonkslupin on May 21, 2011 13:18:55 GMT -5
Aidan jumped to his feet and raced over to Xirofel, reaching him just as the girl...Xiro's sister...did. "Xiro..." He dropped to his knees by his injured roommate, head snapping up as Xirofel's sister spoke. "Xiro...you left her behind? What? Xiro..." Confusion swam in the younger boy's eyes. "What happened?" He'd never fully understood the bigger boy's Adventure tales and the implications behind them. "I thought your sister would be happy to see you. Xiro...she's hurt, she needs a healer. You're hurt, you both need one. You...She hurt you." And Xiro had hurt her, hurt her heart, it sounded like. Aidan shook his head.
"Xiro...I don't understand what happened. I don't understand." He couldn't see how any family could have broken apart that way. "I'll get a healer. I have to find one. You both need one." He got up and wheeled to face Qosis. "Don't hurt them more. You leave them alone. Lacky, make him leave Xiro and her alone." He spun on his heel and raced off toward the infirmary as fast as his legs could carry him. His brother...and his brother's newly found sister...needed help.
"Help! Help, Xiro needs help!" he cried as he burst inside, too worried to remember the rules of decorum. "Xiro's sister came and she hurt him and Qosis is there and Xiro needs help! Someone help!"
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Sakoru
Drudge
THE FEARSOME FIERY BEAST
Posts: 11
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Post by Sakoru on May 21, 2011 14:19:28 GMT -5
Losing the race wasn't that bad. Xiro had, in fact, half expected it and he was willing to laugh it off, vow to run faster next time, and call it a good day. He had not been expecting to be tripped, let alone by a sister he hadn't seen in over a turn, and he had also not been expecting Qosis to react so unfavourably to said sabotage. At the biting question, the trader merely shrugged. "Nothing that concerns you," he answered quietly, turning away to face Fel. He couldn't meet her gaze for long, but then, he soon found that there was no need to.
Abruptly a huge form blocked off his field of view, and Xiro looked up with a startled expression on his face. He hadn't even noticed the other trader circling around in front of him, but he certainly did now. Surprise transformed into fear when one of the great scarred hands grabbed at the front of his shirt, and then fear morphed into anger. Olive eyes glared into his, making it very clear that their race hadn't even been that, just a waste of time. Not appreciating the implication, the smaller candidate glowered back resentfully, and then seized Qosis' hand and pried it off his shirt, leaving bloody streaks on the other's skin. "Don't touch me," he snarled.
At the same time the older candidate caught Xiro, Lakeeti deserted Fel, and launched herself at the huge man, growling ominously. Her owner barely had time to signal her off before the hound's fangs buried themselves in Qosis' calf. As it was, she took up her place next to Xirofel, hackles raised as she stared fixedly at his assailant. The trader himself stepped back, cycling through his brain in an effort to figure out how to escape this situation cleanly. No options presented themselves: he now had three problems to deal with, not just one, and there was no quick-and-easy solution to any of them.
First problem: Qosis. Momentarily dealt with, but Xiro had little doubt that he would stick around to watch the fireworks. Second and most major problem: Fel. Apprehension began to choke him as she limped -- limped? -- closer. What had happened to her...? The raging sister he'd abandoned suddenly, for just an instant, became the one he'd spent so many turns looking after and protecting, and the trader took a step in her direction, only to flinch back at her words. Shock cracked the anger in his eyes, and Xiro looked away, his guilty expression telling more than his words ever could. "I never forgot you." How could he? She was his sister, his favourite...!
And he'd still seen fit to leave her. Occasionally he'd been called mad by someone he met on the road, and maybe it was true. If it was, though, Xiro hoped it would start shielding him from Fel's words soon. Madmen didn't always understand the implications of things. He did, though, and his expression became more miserable with every word his sister screamed at him. Aidan's broken questions wrenched at him, ripping into the mess of his heart with careless abandon, and he managed only a pained "yes" in response. Yes, he had left her. And now it was catching up with him, and he hunched his shoulders against it, a flimsy shield against the pain that Fel was entirely willing to inflict on him.
'You found time for him! And for races. Good to know I don't matter to you.' How could she say that? Rationally, Xirofel knew the answer: he'd left her, and he could fully understand why she hated him now. But the unthinking part of him still rebelled against the idea that his little sister could ever willingly lash out at him, regardless of his own past actions. Ergo, caught somewhere between logic and emotion, the trader couldn't reply, not with any kind of satisfactory answer. Did one even exist? If it did, his response wasn't it. "You've always mattered to me, Fel." It wasn't a lie, not really, but at the same time he knew she'd never believe it. That didn't stop him from trying, as if he could still vindicate himself of abandoning her. As if he could just wipe the slate clean and make a fresh start as her big brother once again, he tried to defend himself. It surely wasn't working, but the pleading expression on his face screamed for understanding, if not forgiveness.
Aidan was speaking, saying something about a healer and people being hurt, and Xiro couldn't figure out what he was talking about. Who needed a healer? He didn't -- his mangled forearms were fine, except maybe for that bleeding gash on his right hand... but Fel! Fel did! She was injured, and whimpering, and without any kind of warning the entire situation clarified itself again in his brain. He remembered Qosis, cast the other trader a swift glance, trying to conceal the wretchedness in his face even as he stepped hesitantly toward his sister. No, wait. That wasn't -- Aidan! "No, Aidan!" Xiro roared, whipping around, but the boy was already gone, off to find someone to further destroy the situation. Now left alone, with only Lacky to help him (and she wasn't particularly good at negotiations), the traitor stared at the leg his sibling was clutching. Was she acting? He didn't know, couldn't tell when it was his own sister and he himself was blinded by his own agonizing need to help her. Would she let him? Would she lunge up and try to strangle him as soon as he came close?
None of the possible outcomes mattered. Fel was his sister, his injured sister, and as he would have done before he left her a turn ago, Xiro approached her. He was slow, hesitant, hampered by his own throbbing knee, and he was walking right into whatever trap she'd set for him. But, unlike he would have done before he fled the caravan, the blood-traitor hesitated, uncertainly working his bloody fingers against his gashed palm. "What happened to you?" he whispered, voice dangerously close to cracking. "What happened after I left?" What had he done to her? It didn't look like her injury was a new one, and Fel's older brother felt his guts twist uncomfortably. Had he done this? Was the gnawing guilt in the pit of his stomach justified for more than abandoning her, or were his emotions tearing at him only for the deeds he'd directly committed? |
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
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Post by Azhdarchid on May 21, 2011 16:49:21 GMT -5
When Xirofel began prying at him, Qosis dropped the other trader. He turned to look at the child on approach, paying far less attention to the hound preceding her. He knew Xirofel had control of Lakeeti, even if she was a pointless addition to his life at the Weyr. Aidan had torn off on his own. Fel. The girl's name. Following the conventions of most Pernese, she was probably related to the Xiro. Probably a sister. Limping, but the wound was not new. Outraged, crying, as anyone who was so betrayed had a right to be.
But why was she at Dalibor? The Weyr would not have kidnapped a trader child just to serve among its drudges. Then she had to have been Searched. Xirofel had abandoned her and she had been taken for Thread. But with such a pronounced limp, that too seemed unlikely. Unless-- and Qosis watched Fel much closer, following the twinges of her face and the dragging of her leg --she was acting. She was. For what reason? He caught Xiro's unpleasant sideward look and said nothing. There was no greater condemnation than the one delivered by a man's own Bloodkin. Furthermore, he still had some responsibility to maintain Xirofel's relationship with Dalibor. Driving him out with his own and Fel's verbal lashings was not part of that plan.
Xirofel's expression spoke to the depth of his current punishment anyway. Qosis found it strangely difficult to reprimand when the damage had already been done, and the reprimand would not double as a warning. There was no going back on a betrayal of one's family. What he could do now was prevent the situation from flying into the notice of people who were not traders at all and could not hope to understand. And prevent Xirofel from masochism, dragging himself as he was toward Fel and her show of injury.
"He's no blood of yours girl," the older trader announced as he seized Xirofel's arm, turning up his gashed hand and examining the wound. His hold acted as a convenient restraint against the other's further progress. "He's for the dragons," he continued, scrutinizing the dirty cut. "If you are too, then he'll be your brother again when you are dragon-bound, and not before. And when that happens, he will not be leaving you again. If you care." Qosis showed Xirofel's own hand to him. "I can take care of it, but my redwort is at the barracks. Follow me."
There was another significant look into the exile's eyes, but this time the communication was different. Qosis glanced sidelong to the infirmary, Aidan's tiny shape just disappearing into the mouth, and then back at Xiro. If the betrayer wanted to fully experience this punishing reunion, Qosis' option was the only way would not see interruption by an irritated Healer Journeyman or two. "You," he continued, switching his gaze to Fel. "You can let off your leg now. Come with me, and the traitor. I will sit him down for you at the barracks, so he cannot flee. Not that he's a very good runner."
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
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Post by Boo on May 22, 2011 8:02:43 GMT -5
"Well, forgive me if I don't quite believe you, Xi-ro." She scoffed.
She spat each syllable of his name out with venom and glared at the trio of males around her. Aidan was talking rather oddly and to her dog. She knew, deep down, that she shouldn't blame Xiro for anything but the dominant part of her had always felt abandoned by his actions. She had calmed ever so slightly but her hands were still clenched at her sides. It was almost surprising that she hadn't punched him just yet. Then again... She had tripped him up.
Fel was a little surprised when the other boy rushed off to the infirmary. Oh right. She was acting as though she had suffered an extremely bad injury. She didn't want anyone fussing over it partially because nothing was wrong and the other part was a concern that they might take her seriously, perhaps preventing her from Standing. She relaxed a little limp becoming less pronounced knowing that there was little else to gain in keeping it up. Apparently the boy with Xiro thought too for he mentioned something to her about 'letting off' the leg. There was still a slight limp but nothing like the one she'd been pretending to have.
She maintained a dark smile at the thought of Xiro being not only a bad runner but confined to a small area where she could yell at him some more.
"I wouldn't miss that." She replied somewhat sadistically.
She would tell him everything. The irony in all this was, of course, that she had left her younger sibling. Well, at least Ralet knew where she was and she could send him information...
The older person was right, though, she knew Xiro would be her brother once again when she had impressed. Yes, she did think when, but that didn't stop her letting her rage out now. Or later. Or even when she did impress. Maybe one day she would overcome her anger but at the moment she was still a thirteen year old girl who had been hurt by the one person she looked up to. The one person who had always been there to save her. Her hero who had failed to catch her. |
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Post by kayleetonkslupin on May 22, 2011 11:07:34 GMT -5
(OOC: Boo, Aidan ran into the infirmary. Is your healer person going to meet him there? Sakky said he would, I thought...*takes another turn, to help*)
Aidan burst into the infirmary, looking around for a healer. "Help! Someone help, Xiro's hurt, Xiro's sister's here and she's gone mad, she hurt him...she's hurt too," Aidan thought to amend, "but she hurt him, Qosis is there, that's not helping..." He flung himself at the nearest healer. "Help Xiro, please!"
He had no idea that Qosis was planning on taking Xiro away and dealing with Xiro himself. No idea of what had gone on once he had left. All he knew was that Xiro, his 'adopted big brother' and roommate had been hurt. He knew that Xiro's little sister had shown up with a vengeance, murder in her eyes...or something...and had hurt Xiro on purpose. Something like that would never have occurred to the young boy.
"Help...please, Xiro's hurt, they were racing and Xiro got hurt because she tripped him up! I shouted to warn him but he didn't see and she tripped him up!" Aidan was babbling, but he didn't care...in fact, he was probably in need of a healer, too. He wasn't physically hurt, but he had suffered a shock; the shock of seeing his beloved friend and 'brother' be attacked by Xiro's own flesh and blood. He couldn't comprehend it, and it was too much.
"The Bowl...by the Sands...help...help Xiro..." Aidan sobbed. "Please..."
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Sakoru
Drudge
THE FEARSOME FIERY BEAST
Posts: 11
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Post by Sakoru on May 22, 2011 17:52:40 GMT -5
Fel's reaction wasn't surprising, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. The elder of the two siblings glanced away, dropping his gaze to the ground, where it stayed. At least it stayed until Xirofel heard his sister whimper, and then his eyes snapped back to her, seeking the source of her injury. As soon as he'd determined it, he started hesitantly in her direction. He started to reach out to her, automatically extending his right arm.
Without warning, said arm was captured in a set of long, powerful fingers, and Xirofel jerked in surprise. A low hiss escaped him, and he yanked at his wrist, trying to free it. The younger trader completely failed to notice that Qosis was examining the gash -- his attention was focused too much on the man's words, and on his own sister. Caught halfway between ire and guilt, the kin-traitor stared at his younger sibling, scrutinizing her face.
Something caught his attention, and the green gaze flicked downward, landing squarely on his bloody palm. "Oh," he remarked in a surprised tone. "Forgot about that." Considering that it stretched about a third of the way across his palm, this should have been surprising. What was surprising was that the other trader mentioned he could take care of it; the smaller male glanced up at him with a distrustful expression. "It's fine." It kind of hurt, though... okay, it really hurt, now that he'd actually noticed it. And, winding back through the remarks that Qosis had made while he was studying his hand, Xiro also realized that the other trader had essentially condemned him to the Weyr. Instantly the candidate stiffened, narrowing his eyes. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
In retrospect, these were probably the wrong words to say, but they came automatically and, even staring at Fel as he now was, Xiro didn't apologize for them. For one thing, he was staring too intently at his sister, having suddenly registered the change in her after Qosis spoke. All of a sudden she wasn't limping anymore, or at least not nearly as much, and his eyes widened slightly when he realized it. Expressive features mirroring his shock, the trader soon tightened his lips and followed the other trader's glance. The remark didn't please him, and neither did his sister's response. Both were entirely predictable, of course, and yet in his current state the trader didn't see them coming.
Knowing that he should have cracked his armour further, and Xiro, strengthened by a temporary surge of rage, ripped his arm away from Qosis with a strangled hiss of pain. "You think I'm going to run?" he snarled, rising on his toes in an effort to put himself on a level with the giant. "I can sit myself down without yer shardin' doin' it for me, exile." His accent was coming out... it had been a while since it had done that. Not that he'd ever worked all that hard to suppress it, but associating mainly with holdfolk had done a pretty good job of getting him to stop dropping his consonants. Now the habit was returning, swept along on the rising tide of Xirofel's voice. Trembling with fury, he twisted away from the other man, but he didn't turn his back on him. Even if he had, Lakeeti was still at his side, growling ominously. Xiro hardly noticed her.
The anger faded slightly when his gaze returned to Fel. Fel, and her sadistic remark that she wouldn't miss this. He wondered, faintly, if she remembered his claustrophobia. While the candidate barracks weren't that small, he was pretty sure that being trapped there by the two of them while he was already a wreck would be the end of him. At the very least, he'd start reacting a lot more violently than he wanted to, given that one of his opponents was a giant and the other was his little sister. For a moment, he did consider fleeing, bad runner or not, and the thought passed through his eyes, clear as day, when he glanced around the Bowl. Tempting as it was, he had nowhere to go, and so the trader dropped the idea. On the other hand, if Qosis had it in his head that they were going to the barracks, any attempt to change course would probably result in the other trader simply dragging him over to that hated stone prison.
Lips tightening, Xiro motioned to Lacky and spun on his heel, refusing to spare a glance for either Fel or Qosis. Though he wasn't sure whether to be angry or hurt, rage sounded like the safer option. Every line of his body was tense as he covered the short distance to the barracks, speaking not a word until they were at the door. "We're staying outside." He was resigned to Fel screaming at him, resigned to the inevitable knives of her words tearing into him, but he wasn't going inside. Wasn't going to let them see him panic, either. If the older trader wanted his redwort, he could go get it and bring it back outside. Xiro, standing rigid by the doorway, wasn't moving. Not if he could help it, anyway. |
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
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Post by Azhdarchid on May 22, 2011 22:15:37 GMT -5
"I may have my arms unbroken, but still no knife for you, Xirofel," Qosis responded patiently, his previous rousing to the insult no longer present save a creasing at the corners of his eyes. Further urging his complacency despite the dishonoring was the younger Candidate's frothing speech, which slipped out of calculated holder-tongue-- a sign of the blood-betrayer's inability to figure the consequences of his words. He lifted his chin, eyes fixed on Xirofel's face as the boy searched the Bowl. Qosis was sure he was looking for a way out, but did not speak the cowardice aloud. It was self-evident.
When Xiro finally began his doomed march to the barracks, Qosis picked up his brown jacket and slid into a restrained step behind him. The primed muscle in his legs gave an anticipatory twitch when Xiro stopped again, right at the barracks entrance. There was no way the other trader would even escape the swipe of Qosis' long arms if he chose to flee. Surprise lifted his eyebrows at the rigidity in the boy's body, though he was aware facing down one's kin after abandoning them was a uniquely terrifying experience.
He pointed to the sidewall of the barracks. "Sit," he barked as soon as they had cleared out of the main entrance. Qosis did not leave to gather redwort. He arranged himself beside Xirofel and extracted the needed materials...from the pockets of his coat, starting with a wooden black sewing box. "I don't have any numbweed with me," he warned the exile beside him as he uncapped a bottle of redwort extract. The first thing he did was smear a layer over his own hands. "Since we're not going inside, you will have to keep your voice down," he added, to Fel this time. "Your hand," he said, like it was a request, but grabbed Xirofel's wrist on his own and turned the gash toward the sky. Qosis mashed a helping of redwort into the wound, then doused his needle and began extracting some of the healer's thread he had been permitted to carry from the infirmary.
With their immediate vicinity clouded by the pungent antiseptic stench, he tipped Xirofel's fingers as far apart as they could stretch. "Hold it like that. You do not need much." Qosis began working, his rough fingertips managing to scrape all around the wound but never into it again as he wove the black thread into edges and cinched them together. "You may speak now," he informed Fel.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
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Post by Boo on May 23, 2011 17:57:32 GMT -5
Tedaon was more than a little annoyed with the people in his infirmary. Why did people have to bother him? Did he have a sign on his back that seemed to say; 'Bother me I have nothing better to do with my time?' He rolled his eyes as the boy seemed to almost hyperventilate and looked about the infirmary. He'd personally finished tending to a new mother when the boy had thrown himself at him, but there were another couple of healers who were working on an injured Runner who had fallen from his beast. Tedaon figured that if he didn't do something the boy would probably just start screaming louder or something.
"Sit." He commanded, putting pressure on the boy's shoulder to force him to take a seat, "Breathe. I'm not going anywhere, much less the Weyrbowl, unless you just take a breath."
He knew he was being a little gruff but he wasn't in the best of moods. Plus, he had better things to do. Like eat. Experiment with different salves and, eat. If someone hadn't been mauled by Whers he was not going to be happy. He waited a moment until he thought the boy had calmed himself.
"If you start shouting again I'm coming back here." He warned.
But the urgency of the boy's shouts were enough to rally him to action. He called for his assistant who promptly popped out of between carrying what he thought was Tedaon's healing bag but was, instead, a couple of his clothes. Tedaon stared at the Flitt for a moment, sending as many images of his bag as possible. Neras took two more attempts before he managed to get it right and at that Tedaon got to his feet and followed the boy out of the infirmary, Neras flying along behind him.
He rushed with some urgency knowing that the candidate would not have disturbed him had it been something small. Someone must have been seriously injured to warrant that kind of behaviour. As they exited the caverns Tedaon looked around. There was no sign of any injured person... He would have thought there'd be a crowd or something. Still, he didn't know the full story yet and he thought he spotted something of a group over by the Candidate Barracks. He started over that way, thinking it was probably his best bet.
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Fel was momentarily disarmed by the fact that the older candidate out of all of them seemed to be rather keen on letting her yell at her brother. She wasn't entirely sure what to say now, forgetting everything she'd ever wanted to inflict upon her older brother. She twined her hands around in circles trying to focus all her rage once again. Apparently just looking at her brother seemed to bring all that rage back as he walked away, motioning to Lacky. He was so INFURIATING! He was flaunting their pet before her very eyes. Her friend whom she hadn't seen in so long and he just didn't even... Didn't seem to care!!
Sure, he said that he cared but he really didn't. If he had cared about her or even the family then surely he would have at least told them where he was going. Exactly where he was going. None of the whole, 'I'll be wandering over here somewhere,' but actually told them where he was. Or at least sent runners telling them he was ok. Fel had lived in fear that her brother was dead. To see him here, not only alive but without a care in the world made her feel even more abandoned than she had ever felt in her life.
She wiped away some of the tears and kept her hands clenched by her sides. Hurting him would only make her more upset because then she'd be as bad as him. She followed the two boys with a tense walk as they made their way to the Candidate Barracks and walked a little into the main entrance. Ah yes. Xiro wouldn't have liked being too far inside with them all crowding him, no he wouldn't. She so wished that the older boy would have forced Xiro to keep walking.
She knew the way to make Xiro suffer. And it was not screaming anymore. Her tears began to fall freely once more as she stared at her brother in silence.
"Every night... Every night, I cried myself to sleep thinking something had happened to you. And every night I would run outside thinking I'd heard your voice, or Lacky barking..." She trailed off and wiped her face.
She didn't want to admit it to him that her leg was not what it used to be. It caused her minimal pain but it was still something. She could never actually shake the pain she'd felt that night, though. And it was his fault. If he'd never left... Then she would be fine. |
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Post by kayleetonkslupin on May 23, 2011 20:18:10 GMT -5
Of course it was urgent! Xiro was hurt! Aidan didn't know it, but he was in shock, still...running on adrenaline borne of fear. One of his first friends, his new brother, struck down in front of him, racing with that Qosis when SHE showed up. His chest heaved.
"Xiro's sister...she showed up...tripped him...hurt him when he was running...he got hurt, bleeding, it was bad...where did he go??" Aidan cried when they got there. "He was right here! Right here!" Xiro was gone. Fear coursed through Aidan like a rushing torrent, irrational as it was, he could think of only one thing...
"He's betweened, hasn't he? She's killed him and he's betweened! She's mad, I swear it, she's madder than a herd of rampaging bovines, and now she's killed him!" Aidan wailed. Then he noticed the movement over by the barracks, and stumbled after the healer. Could it be Xiro, alive after all? He didn't dare to breathe as they drew nearer to the barracks.
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Sakoru
Drudge
THE FEARSOME FIERY BEAST
Posts: 11
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Post by Sakoru on May 23, 2011 21:05:22 GMT -5
Xirofel didn't respond to that comment, but some unidentifiable expression crossed his face before vanishing again. He wondered, vaguely, what Qosis would say if he knew that even at this moment there was a blade tucked into his boot -- short but sharp, and entirely capable of killing a man. The look on his face betrayed nothing about that, at least, although the trader knew that the other male had caught his swift glances around the Bowl. More than a little uncomfortable with the look on the giant's face, Xiro twisted around and headed for the barracks.
The walk felt like it took centuries, although in reality it took no more than a few minutes. The entire time, Xiro was acutely aware of Qosis' looming bulk behind him. Even knowing that he had his back turned on the man made the trader feel his hip for a knife that was no longer there. Shells. He knew it wasn't there -- hadn't been for many sevendays -- but that didn't stop him from wanting it to be. Doubtless the other candidate had seen that, too, but at least from his spot behind Xiro there was no way for him to glimpse the painful blush that burned its way briefly into the trader's cheeks.
By the time they reached the barracks, it had disappeared. His sense of claustrophobia, unfortunately, had not. Xiro stopped dead, refusing to budge an inch closer to the doorway, until the man behind him barked at him to sit. Spine rigid, he obeyed, glad only that Qosis hadn't forced him through that door and into a living hell. Not that having the two of them trap him out here was that much better, but at least he could feel Rukbat's rays even if he couldn't get away. The sunlight wasn't the least of what he could feel, however: anger tightened his chest as the other candidate calmly pulled a box of medical supplies from his jacket -- including redwort.
Should have seen that one coming. Xirofel attempted to stand again, determined to face this situation on his feet, but the other trader caught his wrist before he could. Lacky growled again; her master silenced her with a hand signal and dropped back against the wall, none too pleased. Drawing his knees up close to his chest, more as a defensive measure against Fel than anything else, the traitor shot Qosis a narrow-eyed glance, watching him distrustfully for the bare seconds it took before the other smeared a healthy dose of redwort into the wound.
"Sco--!" Hissing in pain as the antiseptic burned deep into his flesh, Xiro jerked ineffectually at his wrist, fingers automatically clenching shut. The digits of his other hand dug hard into the ground, as if that would make the stinging sensation disappear. It didn't, of course, and the trader's muscles were still twitching from the sting when Qosis forced his hand open again. Barely able to keep his fingers from folding closed once more, Xiro leaned back against the wall, pressing his shoulders against it as hard as he possibly could just to try and distract himself while the other candidate stitched the edges of the wound back together again. At least he managed to keep his hand open, but his fingers had been twitching the entire time, a dead giveaway as to how much it hurt.
The one good thing about his hand being figuratively on fire was that it had kept him from even noticing Fel and her uncomfortable proximity to him. Now that the stitches were done (thank Faranth), Xirofel had no choice but to look up at his sister, eyes rather glazed. He shook his head, trying to ignore the random tightening of muscles in the wrist Qosis still had hold of. And then, at the other trader's bidding, his little sister spoke.
If it had been her intention to hurt him, it certainly worked. 'Every night, I cried myself to sleep.' Those words alone would have been sufficient, but she cut deeper, twisting the verbal knife and her brother with it. Xiro flinched back against the wall, cracked his head on the stone and winced. He saw her wiping the tears from her face, and, unable to stand it, he dropped his gaze to the multitude of scratches on his free hand. Guts twisting unpleasantly, the traitor stared hard at his hand, intently studying the raw scrapes there. "Nothing happened to me." But something had happened to her. He knew Fel better -- had known her better -- than to think she would spontaneously make up an injury that was never there. He wished he didn't. He didn't want to know, didn't want to give her the chance to use more of the weapons that would let her hurt him. Call it selfish, but he writhed away from the idea of his sister heaping more guilt on his already breaking heart.
And he didn't have to ask, because his peripheral vision told him that someone was approaching. Dread settled in his stomach -- he didn't recognize the man in front, but the boy behind was Aidan. So he had fetched a healer, and now the pair of them were headed over here. Strained nearly to the breaking point already, Xirofel stared at the approaching figures, green eyes wild with irrational fear. Weren't Qosis and Fel bad enough? Did there have to be another witness while his sister ripped his heart out and cut it up? Did everyone in the Weyr feel the need to come watch the kin-traitor squirm? Irrationally, he hoped Fel would turn her rage on the healer and drive him away. He couldn't count on his fellow trader to tell the guy to leave, and Aidan was, quite frankly, going to be worse than useless considering how hysterical he'd been when he left. |
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