The Garden of Gratitude [Chek]

Rennin had made the mistake of sleeping in the Candidate Barracks – something she liked to avoid whenever possible for a variety of reasons, not limited to maintaining the safety of others, and to keep herself from being cornered.

Cornered like she was now.

She was fully aware that L’xon and Halventh were waiting for her outside the barracks, though for what reason she could only guess at. She suspected that Day’ar may not have had success in his stealth mission, and now L’xon was here to… she didn’t know. He didn’t seem the sort to wreak bloody vengeance for getting the colors or face slightly wrong, but how could she know for sure? Day’ar would not have given up her name, so was there torture involved?

Once again, she didn’t think L’xon would actually do that, but…maybe if they were coming off as a threat? The crazy pinkrider seemed to think that anyone was capable of becoming a ravening lunatic at will.

…It was also entirely possible she was spending too much time around Ma’dai.

Still, she was lurking carefully out of sight just down the hallway to the female side of the barracks, occasionally peeping out to watch for Halventh and L’xon, wondering if they’d eventually give up and leave. It was her bad timing that had her popping out just as Halventh poked his head around the corner to look for her.

She froze, some part of her mind trying to tell her he wouldn’t see her if she didn’t move. But that was silly, as evidenced by the distinctly triumphant tone of the chirp he emitted – that particular dragonic tone was one she knew very well from long exposure to Oracle.

She watched in still, unmoving silence as the blue dropped and recovered his flower, before slowly withdrawing out of sight. Rennin made a tiny sound, better suited to a small, frightened animal, but really, there was nothing for it now. She was spotted. Trapped. She hadn’t figured out an alternative escape route from the Barracks like she’d been planning to and now that lack of foresight had come back to bite her.

She crept out the door, poking her head around the corner to take in the sight of Halventh in all his flower-bedecked glory, and L’xon sitting with a basket in his lap. Her eyes focused on the flowers in his hands, recognizing them automatically, her mind shifting forward their uses automatically. Mostly poisonous, at least via ingestion, a few the could be broken down into medicines of various sorts, one which made a delightful tea – but they were all pigment producing flowers.

Was he… going to show her to proper combination for Halventh’s coloration? That was fine. That was… perfectly fine. She relaxed minutely.

“Hullo L’xon, Halventh.”

The problem in this instance was that Halventh was entirely too correct as to the state of Rennin’s anxiety levels. Halventh himself actually didn’t lend anything to the intimidation factor – with the flowers draped about him, at worst he was a distraction as Rennin memorized the lines of his posture, committing the light and subtle shading of colors to memory. Halventh was one of her favorite beings – as long as she drew him, he was ever an appreciative audience. He really was one of the few she didn’t mind showing her work to.

But L’xon going on about she and “him” – and who else could that be but Day’ar? – sneaking around had her fingers digging into the wrists of the opposite hand, knuckled white – the color drained from her face as well, though it was less noticeable due to a native paleness of the skin in the Candidate.

So the sudden gratitude and appreciation, changing over as it was from a seemingly upset start, simply served to unsettle her more. “I…I..I..” she stumbled over her words, any words, at a total loss as for what to say – what could she say? This was an entirely unexpected, unanticipated and unnerving situation for her.

The light touch of Halventh’s mind on hers – his voice in her head – paralyzed her even more so than before. Halventh didn’t talk to her directly. That was how it worked. She could show up and sketch him in the sand or on a rock, and he would express his appreciation of her art in other ways, but not by talking to her!

She started to shake, just a little. Too much in too short an amount of time.

The basket was the final straw. She took the basket numbly, reaching in to touch some of the petals gently, glancing up at L’xon, flabbergasted. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but closed it again before more than a squeak emerged. There was a roaring in her ears and her vision was blanking out – she set the basket down gently and took a staggering half step back as her eyes rolled back and she dropped like a broken-winged wherry.

Oracle was there between one heartbeat and the next, shrilling a warcry as she landed atop her fainted human. What in the world were these things doing to HER human?

Coiling herself around her sprawled human’s throat, Oracle just hissed at the blue dragon and his rider, uncaring of the size difference or any other factor. She may be violent and psychotic, but she was also possessive – and her human was incapacitated at the moment.

The flower petals hitting her face, blown by the wind, had her shrieking in inarticulate fury again. She shook them away, the brilliant petals catching on Rennin’s face and in her hair instead. She just hunkered down, her tiny talons leaving shredded little spots in Rennin’s already patched tunic.

Other human mentioned the word bite – and with a negative attached to it? ORACLE WOULD BITE WHO SHE WANTED. It was with that in mind that she turned and, quick as a striking snake, clamped her tiny mouth down on the skin at the bridge of her human’s nose, jerking her head back and forth in the same motion she used when attacking tunnelsnakes. Not as violently, of course – she wasn’t interested in maiming Hers at the moment.

It did have the desired effect of getting Rennin back in the realm of the conscious, though. The Candidate had one hand swinging up at pull Oracle away before her eyes were even open all the way. Luckily, Oracle wasn’t totally driven wild at the taste of blood this time, so when the hand came up to push her, she released and went back to her coil of fury and rage around Rennin’s throat, blazing red eyes locked on L’xon.

Rennin touched the already swelling bite lightly, wincing, and wiped away some of the slow trickle of blood making it’s way towards her chin with her sleeve in a manner that screamed of resignation. Even though the healers assured her that Day’ar’s theory of a bizarre firelizard disease that would make her grow headknobs had no basis in reality whatsoever, Rennin was sure there was some horrifying disease she’d get off a bite one of these days – the bite itself didn’t bother her, aside from a little pain.

Looking up, she caught sight of L’xon and Halventh, looking at them blankly for a long moment before realization (and the memory of the action just prior to her faint) dawned, spawning a look of horror to spread across her face at the sight of the spilled basket. The hand staunching the blood dropped away, letting it resume its slow, determined trickle.

Aghast, she whispered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry! You must have been working on that for… for a very, very long time.”

Times like these, she understood Day’ar’s occasional desire to fling himself off of things out of shame.

Rennin’s gaze danced over the growling, agitated Halventh, managing to avoid flinching as he subsided, taking L’xon’s words as truth – Halventh would have showed aggression towards her before this if he was going to – right? It seemed logical to her.

She touched the bite gently when her friend directed her attention back to it, eyes starting to water from the pressure already building behind the swelling, “Yes, I think so,” she said quietly, her voice now having a distinct nasal quality as the swelling interfered with the flow of air, “She was eating carrion before this. She’s likely given me a disease. Or at least an infection.”

Indeed, though she couldn’t see it, the bite was already an angry red, swelling cutting off the worst of the bleeding, but the wound looking quite unpleasant regardless. Oracle hissed under her ear, nibbling on strands of Rennin’s hair as she kept her hateful gaze flickering between L’xon and Halventh. Rennin hushed her, to no avail, as L’xon approached and reached to tuck the lovely blue flower into her hair.

Rennin opened her mouth to warn him off, not sure if he remembered Oracle’s hunting style, but was a little too late – the green flitter snarled and uncoiled her tail from its grip on Her’s throat, snapping the long appendage towards the blue weyrling’s hand like a whip, following the motion up by hooking her claws into Rennin’s shoulder to launch herself under the Candidate’s chin, mouth open in anticipation of a great deal of vicious biting.

Only to slam headlong into Rennin’s upraised palm, the flitter piling up in an untidy bundle and dazing herself from the force of the impact – Rennin caught her before she could fall to the ground. Oracle clung to Rennin’s hand, hissing and shaking her head.

Loud barking from the direction of the lake heralded the arrival of Beliori and her pink passenger – both canine and Caramia were soaked, the pillie less so because of her carapace, the pair obviously having just come from the lake. Bel whined and circled her master’s feet, sniffing at the blood that hand managed to reach the ground and whining again. Mia lifted her feelers and waggled them.

Dazed Oracle was laid on Bel’s back, the canine shifting unhappily on her stubby legs, but having had this particular arrangement taught to her, accepting the flitter without protest. Caramia climbed atop Oracle and began secreting a sticky substance, gluing herself to Oracle and Oracle to Beliori, having the fortunate side effect of binding all the dangerous bits of the green flit down safely.

That done, with a quiet command, the ridiculous mess of pets waddled into the Candidate’s Barracks.

“That will keep her out of trouble for a little while,” Rennin said with a firm nod, pleased that what had started as a terribly silly idea was still working as well as it was, hand coming up to touch her nose as smiling pulled on the bite and made it hurt worse, “But, oh! I can’t let you sort everything back out after I ruined it. I can’t take it and… um, I can work on it while I wait for a healer?”

Rennin accepted the flower automatically, looking down at the dusty, somewhat crumpled petals. It was… a little unsightly. At least to someone who appreciated flowers only for their beauty. This one still had much value to Rennin, however – the pigment which could be extracted was actually in a series of hard seeds which, this time of year, would be tucked neatly away in the stem. Running a finger discreetly along the undamaged stem, she discovered the seeds were there, uncrushed.

It may not look like much, at least not anymore, but the flower had definitive value.

Her examination of the flower was as good an excuse as any to not meet L’xon’s eyes. Oracle. She was a menace, Rennin would not deny it, but a menace that Rennin had mostly kept in check. Faranath only knew what the flit would do if chased away, with no one there to reign the little murderbeast in. Rennin kept her close, put herself in the way of vicious, needle sharp teeth so they would latch onto others less. Oracle after all held some measure of affection for Rennin, after all – she never when for the young woman’s eyes.

No one else could say that.

But this was L’xon asking. Telling? Rennin wasn’t sure. Either way, it was L’xon, L’xon who seemed to worry about her (which in turn made her worry) who was telling her Oracle needed to stop. So Oracle needed to stop.

She’d been kicking around an idea… “Yes. I’ll work on it,” she interjected quietly.

If all else failed, Rennin supposed she could ask Day’ar to set Skyfall against her. Those two fighting and plotting might give Day a bit of peace regarding his baby green pillie, after all.

Then he brought up dragon eyes. Rennin glanced instinctively at Halventh, who’d helpfully drawn close, gaze locking onto those large whirling eyes. She barely noticed him withdrawing, L’xon and he having a silent, or at least one-sided, conversation. Oracle loved eyes – as food. Dragon eyes would be an irresistible target if Oracle was insulted or feeling possessive – or just hungry.

What little color she’d regained drained away in horror at the thought. Oracle would not care about the untouchability of dragons. She slowed, her steps wobbling a little, looking almost as if she was on the verge of another faint – but her steps steadied as her resolve hardened. L’xon was right, and there was no putting it off longer. Oracle had to be controlled. Victory or death.

She did sidestep away from L’xon a little bit, hand dropping and making a tiny, hesitant beckoning gesture to Halventh, offering him the space between them again. “I don’t mind if he walks up with us,” she offered quietly, “I’d very much like to look at his wing membranes if he’ll let me –“ she glanced back at the blue again, obviously directing the question towards the dragon, “- I’d like to see how transparent they are. I’m working on a new piece in miniature with him in this, “ she pressed her thumbs together, shuffling the flower a little awkwardly, and spread her fingers wide, miming a dragon rearing with wings spread, “position, with the sun behind. I want to find out how much light will come through – it will effect the shading.”

During her explanation, her voice had been quiet – but focused, intent. Now she trailed off uncertainly, flushing at babbling so much about her little hobby. Search was a reasonably safe topic, right? “There wasn’t really a… Searchrider involved so much. A blue sort of…just swooped down and kidnapped me off the road. It’s apparently what he does, from what I’ve heard since. Girieth is his name. When his rider did get involved, he was so apologetic that he didn’t say anything about her, even though she bit him when he was taking me to get my things.”

She paused, “Day’ar was Searched by him too, but I think Day said that his was a little less outright kidnapping than mine, but not by much.”

She did giggle at his joke though – she found it amusing enough, “My husband always seemed more pet than even Oracle, to say nothing of my nephews, so I can’t grudge you that.”