Reky
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Post by Reky on Apr 10, 2012 22:25:15 GMT -5
With the slow changing of the seasons came the slow growth of new grass and leaves and the thawing of the edges of the river. It was subtle, the process continuing discreetly until, one day, everything appeared green and fresh as if it had happened overnight. R'fus seemed to melt with the ice as well, waking from a dormant winter to drip from his weyr at times other than wing drills, Threadfall, and fellis runs. He was surprisingly lucid.
R'fus would, if confronted about it, deny that he had developed into some devolved and primal creature. In his spare time, he swallowed down clear, bitter liquid that made him feel weightless when he had promised never to allow himself an addiction. It had only been a matter of time, of course, before he met the emotional conditions for creating the startlingly calm storm that was fellis dependence: a beautiful, young, and terrible lackey, an unobtainable greenriding addict, and a growing feeling of his life passing him by. The love and stress was numbed by fellis. It had seemed, at first, the right choice. Ignoring physical discomfort in favour of a clear mind when he needed one, however, was inconvenient and dangerous.
Sooner or later, he would be found out. He would slip in his drills. He would sleep through a Fall. For now, though, he was having a good day. His head was simply brushing the bottoms of soft clouds, rather than residing in the stratosphere. His ears were unmuffled and he heard the calls of songbirds and the shrieks of wherries in the distance. The last time he had been so attentive to the lake and its surroundings had been long before the winter.
Mine, came the gentle, placid voice of his beloved blue dragon. You are well today.
I guess. R'fus shrugged languidly and watched his Eondith float calmly on the surface of the lake. A fair of firelizards wafted above the lake like a cloud, screeching and trilling with simple joy. Riders and weyrlings washed their dragons in the newfound warmth of spring. R'fus felt a little more human just by watching them.
The ragged man should have been more aware of the impulsive nature of his drugged heart. He had, only one painful, sober stretch ago, sworn off love, but here in the crisp breeze and scent of earth, it came back to him. It had not yet grown wings of lust like it had with Kio and X'mor, and instead remained an innocent newborn in the nest of his mind. He had seen beautiful women in his life and he had seen many much closer than this, but what little he saw of her from his rocky perch across the lake was divine.
Why was it so? R'fus had no explanation. His eyes followed her with a strange fascination, though he was hesitant to approach.
Who is she? he asked his dragon.
Traepsie of Retiath, the blue supplied. Eondith felt a small bit of worry balling up in his stomach, but he swallowed it down for now. He cared for his rider immensely, and so he cared enough to allow him his last shreds of humanity, no matter how fickle and risky. [/blockquote] |
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Post by Admin on Apr 11, 2012 4:40:06 GMT -5
You're insecure,
Don't know what for,
You're turning heads,
When you walk through the door.
Spring! Spring! Spring had sprung at last! Traepsie was joyful in her own way about the change of season. Yes, she was not a creature known for feeling dramatically. The most dramatic display that could be drawn from her was a panic attack from claustrophobia and even that had been tempered by the sharp presence of Retiath in her mind. However, she loved spring. It was the time of growing things. It was the time when she got to go outdoors in a proper manner, even if she had spent every day of the winter outdoors training or caring for Retiath. True, summer was a warmer time, but it was more designed for wistful if happy elegance in her mind. Spring was the time for joy. If there was ever a time for obvious and profuse emotion in her mind, it was spring. She felt no qualms about admitting to liking spring. She might even speak of loving it if asked, a rare thing for the non-committal woman who preferred to keep her opinions quiet.
Focus on scrubbing, not the sky. That is not the proper way to go about things in the slightest, Mine; Retiath informed her rider, fixing one judgmental eye upon the slim figure standing beside her in the shallows. Smiling at her dragon's words, never perturbed, she pulled her blue eyes from the clouds puttering their way through the sky and focused on getting every last bit of dirt off her cyan. I was merely looking at our class's namesake. What to go chase them later, Retiath? The question was almost a joke. For Traepsie, that was quite impressive. If Retiath wanted to chase clouds, she'd do it in a second, but she was teasing. The cyan was aware of this and did not appreciate the joke to any great degree. She snorted. Not particularly; the Cloudchaser dragonet drawled in her unamused voice.
Since it was the first warm day in a while, Traepsie had not stuck to her usual ratio of pale skin to clothing. It was a good thing, as Retiath had managed to soak her within minutes of them reaching the lake. Being neither particularly prone to modesty or immodesty, she was practical for the task of hand, which was washing Retiath. She wore only a dark brown breastband and blue shorts nearer her dark eye color than her dragon's greener flesh. It did show off her lanky form, though whether that was a good thing or not would be something left up to minds less focused on simple things. Traepsie concentrated on scrubbing Retiath, just as the cyan demanded. She hummed cheerfully to herself as she worked, smiling at Tips whenever the brown pillie swam hurriedly passed the pair and chattered at her.
At long last, Retiath was scrubbed to perfection. She shone under Rukbat's rays and Traepsie thought her the prettiest sight in the world, because Retiath was Retiath and she loved Retiath. That was simple. Giving the cyan a pat, she climbed onto her back; the cyan was getting to an impressive size, being mostly grown at that point in her life. "Into the lake!" Traepsie ordered. With a mental roll of her eyes, Retiath waded deeper into the water to rinse with her rider affixed to her back. From her perch, Traepsie saw R'fus across the lake. Feeling happy and smiling, she raised her hand and waved at him. No need to be rude. She swore she must have seen him around somewhere, but she didn't worry herself with placing him. It was rude to ignore him and act as if he didn't exist either way.
You don't know you're beautiful,
If only you saw what I can see,
You'll understand why I want you so desperately,
Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe. |
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Reky
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Post by Reky on Apr 14, 2012 11:05:18 GMT -5
R'fus had been immensely involved in the studying of Traepsie's pale skin. There was an abundance of it on this warm day - legs and arms and shoulders and a curved back - and he wondered how he had been so caught up in the straight lines and edges of men when women were so beautiful. In truth, he had craved more the strange brand of dominance that came from having another male of his own, as if it had affirmed his strength. Now, R'fus was well aware of his weakness. The numbness had, indirectly, opened his eyes to comfort and warmth, and he saw it in the girl with icy skin.
He had been hoping she would not notice him. Part of his head reminded him that staring was rude; the rest of it was too fascinated to comply. She raised her hand, though, and waved to him, and it was far more startling than it normally would have been. R'fus froze and considered his options with haste. She had waved to him. She had waved to him. It could have been a kiss for all he was concerned, for he was filled with an unfamiliar heat and giddiness. The fellis and his profession often lead him to feel like a ghost, skulking around in the night and hovering, not entirely there, in the day. Now, he had been seen by someone - someone beautiful.
Come, Eondith added idly. He had very little emotional input on the situation, as per usual, but he sensed R'fus' childish inhibitions and knew that it was pointless. The bluerider, encouraged, waved back to the Cloudchaser, and stood from his rock. His muscles ached and his knees protested feeling far older than they should, but he found his way to his blue dragon boat and climbed aboard anyway. Eondith, ever calm and quiet, swam obediently over to the weyrling cyan.
"Hello," he called and beamed, his cracked lips stretching into a wide smile. He swiped a set of fingers through his thick black hair. "Traepsie, right?" He was too eager and too removed from reality to have known how unsettling it would have been to have one's name told to them by a stranger. "I, um, saw ya from over there," And his smile cracked a little wider at his own expense. He dipped his head and gave a nervous laugh. "Ah, Faranth. I mean, you just look great, and I... Ah, well, I'm R'fus." Shoulda said that earlier. [/blockquote] |
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Post by Admin on May 22, 2012 1:55:27 GMT -5
Merrily we fall,
Out of line, out of line,
I’d fall anywhere with you,
I’m by your side.
Focusing on making sure Retiath was clean like the proper rider she hoped she was, Traepsie didn't notice the fact the man on the rock had moved until he spoke. She hadn't even seen him return her wave, sinking into her own tiny, simple world for a few moments as she concentrated on the expanse of dark teal hide in front of her. However, there he was and she gave him a smile. She only blinked when he mentioned her name. Retiath knew the names of the other dragons they met. The names tended to circulate and siblings always knew each other's names it seemed. Traepsie supposed it had something to do with telepathy. Something to do with how she knew what Retiath felt, but whatever that something was, she didn't worry herself by thinking about it more than necessary.
"Yes, that's right;" Traepsie told him, confirming her name. There was a moment of surprise for her when he said she looked great, but then it slipped through her mind like water through her fingers. People had called her beautiful in her past; people had kissed her, but in her eyes, they were unconnected events, a few random blips among the many random blips that made up her life. She did not view herself as beautiful anymore than she viewed herself as unbeautiful. She was merely Traepsie of cyan Retiath, an ex-trader who had completely given up her old life with surprising ease. While a simple creature, though not unintelligent, she was also an adaptable creature. She knew Retiath was her life, not some boy, but if R'fus thought that she looked great, that was his right. He could even say it.
"It's nice to meet you, mister R'fus. What wing are you in?" That was a sensible, practical question, wasn't it? For a moment, Traepsie fretted. Perhaps that was too personal. Or too useless. Or too uninteresting. Then she shrugged to herself and gave him a small smile, rubbing at Retiath's shoulder. The cyan was watching blue Eondith with suspicion, though she stayed unusually quiet, speaking neither to her rider nor her fellow dragon. She had no reason not to trust the blue and thus no reason to bespeak him, but she absolutely did not trust the hulking brute's rider and thus he was held suspect for no good reason. Traepsie was hers; while she was not usually overprotective, merely gruff and opinionated, she found herself strongly disliking R'fus. Weyrlings weren't supposed to have relationships and she was suddenly taken with the idea of that petty, exceptionally human rule.
"I'm just giving Retiath a bath;" Traepsie added as an afterthought. She was still stroking her dragon's shoulder, an absent gesture she didn't even realize was a habit. The smooth skin, slick with water and traces of sweetsand, felt eternally familiar to her. She loved her dragon's company, but R'fus's company was nice as well. All company had that quality of niceness to her. R'fus was not special in his acquaintanceship with her, yet she still found him unique. Such was her nature.
I wouldn't mind it at all,
I wouldn't mind it at all,
You so know me,
Pinch me gently. |
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Reky
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Post by Reky on May 30, 2012 23:30:47 GMT -5
Perhaps it was because he was too wound up in his newfound infatuation, or because his habitual emptying of little glass vials had fogged his mind, but either way, Traepsie's query provoked far too much through from R'fus. The answer was slow to come; he work it out with a slow tongue.
"Ah, the one with... Faranth, what's-his-name... Iron-rider. P'ryt! Heritage." Something so simply and daily shouldn't have taken to long to recall. "Heritage Wing," he repeated. "One'a the lower flights," he added, as if extra knowledge would redeem him. At least there was some pride in the morsel - some hint that he really did like the lower level, where some riders may have craved the supposed heroism of the higher altitudes. The thread was thinned out by Heritage and Horizon, so the risk was decreased and he could afford not to have a mind clear as crystal. Even then, Eondith pulled - literally and figuratively - nearly all of the weight during falls.
R'fus watched her fingers idly stroke the cyan beneath her. Among thoughts of how lovely her hands were, and how gentle she seemed and how caring, he felt a twinge of affection for his own beast. The blue was quiet and cool like he always was, and even through this particular jumble of human emotions, he was a monolith of support. A wide, downy mind-basin for which to lie in. R'fus began to feel sorry for the dragon, then, for putting up with him, and then sorry for himself for leading such a sorry life, which in turn lead him to think of the taste of fellis and then shut it all out entirely. He returned his wayward thoughts to reality and focused on the sensation of the wind on his skin. He felt it too rarely, either bundled up or numb against it.
"Good thing to do," he said. Never had he forgotten that Traepsie was there. "Eon had his bath a few days ago. Practic'ly washes himself." Or, rather, R'fus barely had the energy to wash him. He told himself it was all a matter of perspective. Out of all things, though, he should have had room in his heart and body for time with his dragon, however laborious. Eondith insisted he did not mind it.
"Retiath's a nice name," he considered, wanting desperately to find something to talk about with her when he had no leads. At least he was comfortable with any silence that hung in the air, for it was delusionally divine, but her voice was a wonderful way to get to know her. Eondith offered no help, but simply floated steady, and so R'fus puzzled on his own. [/blockquote] |
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