Dragonsong, Herdersing [Sakky]

Something was changing; Sigard’s tone was faltering—wavering, and the Blue’s faceted eyes were swirling fresh colours as his excitement grew. Excitement of what, and at what in the first egg was this crazy firelizard looking? Sebol made as if to turn and do his own exploration, but that was right around the time that Nameleth grew weary of the sound his voice was producing, and went on the attack! He wasn’t precisely sure what he had done to anger this flit, but when she fell from her perch and arrowed for his face—well it no longer mattered, he just wanted to avoid being mauled. That is until Sigard decided he’d had enough—or maybe not enough—of her attentions. He bunched and then leaped from Sebol’s fist like a loosed feline, and where the Green was an arrow down—he was a bolt up.

He began angry; she was attacking his bonded, and she was ruining their music! His spars and sails lashed at her own as he chased her in the furious circles she was making over Sebol’s head. She could not get to his two-legger, but he could get to her. So he did; darting, and hissing, and chittering, and chiding, and screaming. What an angry female! So angry! He loved it—yes, scream back little bird, yell your fury to the winds and to the sky! He could not help himself, the Blue felt the great urge to tease her and press her, and beg of her more emotion—more! For his part, the ex-Herder was bemused—hopefully this was simply a wild flit, certainly if she had an owner they would not be pleased to find that—oh dear.

Where there had been one Blue, there were now two, and where Sigard was treating the Green like a curious fire; Avsiran was thoroughly enraged. Why did he seem more protective of Sebol than the ex-Herder’s own flit? The Candidate’s lips pursed: This had to be some trick of Xiro’el’s, to ensure that if he met someone the blue would drive them off. It would be the newest Traderborn destruction. Of course the man would want his flit to be some trained assassin for hire—but he wouldn’t want to test that loyalty on himself, no so let’s drag Sebolaren into it; that way if anyone does die the Cyanweyrling’s hands would be clean—such as they were.

Yet the Green seemed to give no ground that is until a masculine voice broke out over all of the incessant shrieking and bid her to cease. Which she did—much to Sebol’s relief—before the Blues could catch her. He didn’t think they would have harmed her, but she certainly looked fit to rip their wings off. Before his attention turned to the man it fell on Avsiran: Xiro’el. The Blue gave him a look as if he could not at all be trusted to care for himself, but obliged the ex-Herder by going between—though if he had actually returned to his bonded, that was something Sebol would not know. He sighed softly and his eyes went to Requias—who was still both lying down, and sleeping; so obviously she had taken no notice. Which he would have found hilarious if he wasn’t sure that this Greenrider was going to be furious that his darling flit had been so outrageously attacked by his Blues.

He watched the Rider dismount from that Green shoulder, and the firelizard settle angrily along one of her bonded’s even as Sigard settled onto his: Blue tail matching Green to make a Torque, but Sigard lacked something the Green did not—anger. True; his eyes did also whirl red, but there were traces of purple there that nearly had Sebol rolling his eyes. So Sigard liked the forceful women did he? That was typical. His eyes returned to the Greenrider as the man spoke and he smiled; breathing out a soft chuckle. ”No, though I’m sure she would have fiercely done so—Sigard kept her at bay. I do not think she liked my singing.” Which he said sort of forlornly, because he hoped his voice wasn’t that terrible—then again he never sang for anyone so what did it matter?

Oh but she was an angry little Green, and how Sigard found that fascinating indeed his little red-filmed eyes never left her from the moment she settled on her bonded’s shoulder. So angry and fiery and look—watch how she snapped at the two-legger’s finger. Now that took some courage. Why; if he did that with either of the two men he listened to they wouldn’t feed him: Possibly even chide him oh the horror! Not this one, no, she was like a Queen; assured, and confident, and radiant, and—and she knew exactly what she wanted, yes.

Sebolaren did his best to ignore the flit on his shoulder, but the Blue was projecting such an obnoxious stream of images and emotions that the ex-Herder had to tap him on the face to bring his attention to bear. Luckily this was done well before the man spoke to him—he would have felt rude otherwise. The silent interaction between Rider and dragon piqued his interest; so used to Weyrlings with dragons who never ceased chattering, and whose Riders answered them verbally: This struck him as a very civil and beautiful way to communicate.

”Firelizard song?” He was honestly curious, though also somewhat nervous about mentioning the song with the Green flit so near—the last thing he wanted was to cause yet another ruckus for his question. Although the little thing seemed placated enough what with the mention of the song, and she was happy to go to her bonded’s fist, and happy to sit there, and happy to be—nope. Nevermind that assessment. Sebol couldn’t help but give a soft laugh for how quick the Green was to dig in her teeth.

”I’m surprised myself, though I believe I have Sigard to thank for that, and his brother; perhaps I will be more cautious in where I do my singing from now on.” Which was an ironic statement what with how far he was from the Weyr proper currently, and how careful he was to sing alone, but he hadn’t exactly counted on dive-bombing killer firelizards to cause him trouble either. That was something entirely new. He was momentarily dazzled by watching the man’s dragon shake, and then settle herself.

Oddly enough in a Weyr full of dragons he rarely had the time to see one up close, although he did tend to head out onto the land when his chores were over, but still—he’d have thought that he’d be up to his shoulders in dragon by now. Yet, no, it was mostly growing rambunctious Weyrlings who threatened to crush him to death when they forgot they had grown to twenty some odd feet over the past few moons. She was beautiful, and calm, and obviously intelligent, and he only realized he was being rude because of Sigard poking him in the cheek. ”I’m sorry, I haven’t been this close to a grown dragon since I was Searched—lost my head, she is lovely. I am Sebolaren; though I haven't been called that since I was Searched either: Most stick with Sebol. I would shake your hand if I didn’t think I’d lose it.”

Sebolaren allowed himself a brief moment of chagrin. Never permitted to attend Gathers for long, nor allowed to sit at the fire to hear Harper song, the only melodies he could readily supply were those of Herder ilk. "Unfortunately I have not." Of course there were many other things that Sebol did not know nor had experienced as a Herderboy, however he tended to pride himself on being somewhat knowledgeable in various fields of study, but in the field of music and song and dance and entertainment of all sorts, he was sorely lacking in cultured experience. His eyes widened warily as the Green flit flared her wings and bit her bonded all the harder, hopefully Sigard wouldn't turn on him so -- if Xiro'el didn't sway him first.

"That is something I am certainly glad to hear, as it would be unfortunate should I be caught alone without Sigard and summarily mauled. I think it might actually be shameful to be mauled by a firelizard when I departed the Sands dragonless without a scratch." He meant those words, for while he did not often feel shame when others laughed at his expense, something he'd grown used to over years of stumbling on flat ground and impaling his face on terra firma, he honestly believed that at least where animals were concerned he should be able to distinguish himself in one way or another, otherwise what value did he have, ex-Herder or not? Of course, he also didn't understand why the Rider would maintain a relationship with a creature which obviously held very little regard for him or anyone else, but if the man found love for the creature, who was he to judge?

Sebolaren relaxed visibly with the knowledge that he had offended neither Rider nor dragon and he flashed a trademark grin, "and I'm sure she deserves every bit of it, well met indeed, and you, X'mor and Laemirath," the last was said with an inclination of his head toward the Green dragon. "Nameleth? Named in the way of dragons though I will agree she seems much akin to a red -- from those I've met," and his thoughts went fondly to Waroth though his attention was again quickly regained by the firelizard's scream. If he had thought that the little Green was reacting in jest or in show, biting only upon the gloved hand of her master to scare unaware strangers, that thought was banished when the flit began clawing at her bonded's bare face. He was certainly agreeable to any action that would both still the firelizard into submission and allow him time to speak with this rider without fear of losing part of his body, so he simply nodded and maintained his position so as not to distract the semi-crazed beast from her master.

When she settled he found himself reacting likewise, curious as to what words were passing between the pair and what he could expect from the calming method, perhaps observing should one of the twins decide that they had had enough of human domination, and though he should have been expected singing for all that the man had been discussing the Firelizard Song, he hadn't. The richness of the voice that flowed into the silence of the waiting ocean breeze startled him. Luckily he was not a man to flinch easily, for he might have, but all the same he found his attention well and truly captured. He was not aware of the inner workings of Harpercraft, so it occurred to him to wonder how a man with such a voice could have been claimed by the Weyr. No little of his attentiveness came from the fact that many Harpers had been out of his reach in terms of observing, and yes the song was quite new to his ears. He had expected perhaps to know it by a different name, but no of course, his father wouldn't have approved of any sort of dragon song, even if it was a song of their lesser cousins.

From his shoulder came the mellow crooning of his Blue, whose voice had risen to meet and match X'mor's for every verse of the song without falter. Sebol was perhaps for a moment worried that the Blue would attract the ire of the Green, but he could not bring himself to command the flit to silence because as he turned to look upon that warbling throat, he saw their half-lidded eyes of swirling Green and an expression so joyous that for a moment he felt truly caught within the power of the song. The song, as all things must, ended and Sebol's eyes shone with a boyish wonder that infected his lips to a warm smile as he reached out to clasp the Greenrider's wrist within his own large palm. "I am certain that my voice is far less stunning than your own, but I would be honoured to learn the words of any song that you would teach me."

”No offense intended, I hope you didn’t take it that way; I’ve managed to be mauled by my friends dragons in the past few months—I’m pretty certain I’ll lose a leg to my own. It was more an acceptance that I’m to be mauled by everything I meet, and that certainly isn’t shameful in the least.” He was definitely guilty of far more shameful things than being loved on—or hated—by a dragon, or even a firelizard. He thought he caught the subtle hint of displeasure in the Green based on her posturing alone; something he’d learned to read quite well when it came to beasts, but feeling as if he’d already offended the Rider he decided to simply leave his dragon’s opinion out of his response. ”That is amusing, if somewhat confusing, but I will not forget her or her name.”

He watched the Green quizzically as she extended her attentions to Sigard, but he wasn’t in the least worried; both of the twins had proven they could handle the angry creature using two different tactics, and from the dazzled sea-green colours flickering through the Blue’s facetted eyes, he had apparently decided that this firelizard was to be loved above all things; save perhaps his bondeds. Sigard warbled at her demands; his voice was soft and sultry and coaxing, and then he divested himself of his human counterpart and glided effortlessly to the log upon which Sebol had been sitting previously. There, away from the two humans, the Blue began to follow the tune that had been sung before—proving that firelizard memory was far and away better than dragons: He didn’t miss a single note.

Amused, and somewhat surprised, Sebol simply turned back to X’mor with a bright grin. ”I didn’t have the chance to walk the tables either, but that doesn’t make what I know any less informative, nor does it mean I’m any less capable with animals. Man doesn’t need a knot to have a capable head upon his shoulders, and I would be grateful for any instruction; though I doubt I’ll ever be half as good as Sigard there.” With a nod he settled back to watch the Greenrider strip his charge of riding straps; his eyes catching the movements and memorizing them better than he ever could have memorized the song—it always paid to know the straps the fighters wore, and he could place anything he learned into making his own straps.

”I believe that’s a logical first step, and you are correct—I caught far less of the song than Sigard did, and I would very much like to keep my eyes in my head!”