A Friend in Need [Nia!]

[kireon]

No word had come in more than a handful of days since the Flight had concluded meant something was wrong.

Said handful of days was also the most time Durian's patience had allotted before the woman was done waiting and was going in to get some questions answered, not as Wingsecond to Weyrwoman, but as friend and fellow weyrling classmate to the girl who was simply Avalle. Mes, we're going. She was, after all, herself. Reggae popped into view, chirruped an inquiry and winged a fly-by snuggle and lick up her cheek to try and cheer her friend up before diving back into the little nest of blankets she'd been busily organizing out of scraps of cloth and hide that couldn't be used for much else. Mind asking her ladyship if Avalle is receiving visitors from old friends and classmates? The prim and proper gold's emphasis on manners had never stopped being fairly entertaining as far as she was concerned, and while Durian busied herself into looking at least as well put together as proper for an informal visit that wouldn't hopefully put the Queen in a snit, the brown heaved a sigh and turned his attention to the one he had failed as well.

Greetings to the Queen, Callistath, how do you do this morning?[/i] He temporarily switched back to Durian, sending her a pointedly pained look that stated just how obnoxious he found this whole formality business to be before returning back to the Queen proper. Would it be out of the question to request a visit with you and yours?[/i] This was absolutely awful and manners, to say nothing about speaking formally, was so not Mesreath's thing. If he didn't get points for making the attempt, so help him, the next herdbeast he sank his teeth into was going to have a lot to answer for on the world's behalf.

When Mesreath didn't say the request was denied, she figured that Callistath was either done with Avalle potentially hiding herself away- a habit that might not have gone away completely from their weyrlinghood and Candidacy days- and was alright with someone at least somewhat familiar coming by to drag the girl out for a moment or two, or that Mes was simply going to somehow distract the gold long enough for her to go haul Avalle out and away from her Weyr for a while so the two of them could, hopefully, talk one on one. No strings attached, no sense of decorum needed, just raw and brutal honesty.

Which... was exactly what was needed, Durian noted as she stepped on to the ledge. Even from there, she could pick up the traces of something not being right in the woman's weyr. Mes confirmed, grumbling low in his chest. Anger, Durian. Much of it. Be careful. She heard the brown caution as he remained a polite guest on the edge of the gold's ledge. He would not invade her space further unless invited properly.

Tall and sapling skinny, Durian caught a glimpse of shimmering metallic hide and bowed swift and formal, smooth and elegant as she'd taught herself. "Good morning to you, Lady Callistath, I trust you are faring well?" Not that she expected a response, but any was welcome as long as the gold was in an agreeable mood. The instant she came to the entrance of the cave, the feeling hit, intensified and she felt the polite smile leave, replaced by a hard, firm line. Yep. Anger everywhere.

Folding her arms over her chest, she leaned against the entrance of the Senior Weyrwoman's cave and thought about what to say that wouldn't necessary incite the woman's rage further. Then again... "Looks like you need a friend," she said blandly. "or at least someone to work out some of that aggression on. Let's hit the ring like we were weyrlings again, talking can come later." She gave a slightly insolent smile towards the dark haired young woman she was fond of. "If you work hard, I might even hit you back."

[Nia]

In the days that followed, Avalle had pretty much been avoiding anyone and everyone. As Durian had suspected, she indeed had isolated herself similar to how she'd done when she embarrassed herself as a Candidate or a Weyrling. Talking to anyone meant facing their scorn and hatred of her, not to mention all the disrespect she was suddenly the victim of. Her pride was broken badly enough by the flight itself, she didn't need the entire Weyr shoving their scorn in her face. It was exhausting, and she didn't want to deal with it. Didn't they understand what had happened? But no, very few actually had, and even less were willing to listen to her excuses.

The Goldpair hadn't even spoken to each other beyond necessary. The guilt and shame caused both of them to throw up a wall, refusing to even admit their own faults to each other. It was straining and it made Avalle want to hide under her mountain of furs even more. So that's just what she did. The Senior Weyrwoman went into a complete depression coma, only ever coming out to deliver records to the Record's Room or to write them herself. It was selfish and she was fully aware of how selfish it was, but at the moment, she really didn't care.

Callistath, on the other hand, was not the type to isolate herself. She wanted to show the Weyr that she was still in full possession of her mind and manners. The Gold wanted their respect, but she knew she had to earn it back, rather than just moping around. However, Her's was not listening to her and probably wouldn't for at least a few more days. She couldn't even get a word in edgewise before Avalle blocked her out, or just flat-out refused to listen. It was rude more than anything, and Callistath was offended. If that was how her rider wanted to be, then fine, Callistath was not going to make an effort to do anything either.

Mesreath's greeting to her took the Gold a bit off-guard, but she was as poised as always. Callistath thought for a moment, eyeing her rider still curled up in her bed. The Brownpair's assumption was right, and Callistath was quite fed up with her rider's actions. A Senior Weyrwoman should not behaving the way that Avalle was, no matter how bad she was feeling. It was her duty to the Weyr.

I am alright,

[/i] she responded in a polite manner, though she was definitely not feeling all that "alright". Not that the guarded lady Callistath was going to show her feelings on her sleeve like Avalle did. It would not, you may land.[/i] She replied, a bit more pleasant. Durian was her rider's friend, one of the very few real friends she had, so the Brownrider would hopefully be just the thing to snap Avalle out of her stupor.

Still not quite on speaking terms with each other, Callistath didn't exactly warn Avalle that Durian would be showing up. The sudden movement made the girl shift enough in her furs to turn over and check to see if her dragon were leaving the weyr or something. She was in for a bit of a surprise instead as a Brown landed, one with similar colors to Perbiath, but very clearly different.

Callistath nodded her head at Durian's greeting, rumbling slightly in response to let Durian know that, even if Avalle wasn't approving, the Gold was. She also adjusted a bit to make room for Mesreath's form on her ledge, politely allowing him more space, provided he was going to keep his manners. Which she didn't doubt he was. She'd never known the Brown to disrespect her unless she herself was out of line, which was rare.

Avalle sat up on her bed, looking angrily at where Durian had dared to enter her room. She was feeling very defensive and aggressive, and really didn't feel like dealing with anyone at all. Politics politics politics were all anyone had wanted to talk to her about, and if Durian was here to scold her she was frankly going to kick the girl out. ...or so she thought, but deep down, she was glad to see her friend. They'd known each other from when they were Candidates, and as Durian had so blatantly said, she did really need the company of a friend right now.

Her offer was one that the Weyrwoman wasn't expected, but an offer that almost made Avalle smile. She settled for a slight twitch of her lips and she went so far as to get up from the bed. If it'd been anyone else, she likely would have just told them to get out and leave her alone. But sparring sounded exactly like what she needed right now.

She adjusted her crumpled clothes, wordlessly walking over to where Durian stood in her doorway. Her face still looked sullen and she was frowning, but there was a hint of a twitch to her frown that looked as though she were trying to fight down a relieved smile. "I think I'll take you up on that offer," she replied, without too much of her usual sarcasm or any sort of banter. She still didn't feel herself enough to do anything like that, but at least it was a start.

Still not wanting to talk too much, however, she walked past Durian and headed towards Callistath.[/blockquote][/size]

[kireon]

Callistath's response was met with a flash of a genuine smile, the gold's heavy emphasis on manners a large aid in coming up with some of her more Lord Holder's Daughter roles she'd developed in time- not that she'd ever risk offending the dragon in telling her such. Behave with Callistath, she may need to talk as well. No telling her about your initial response towards Peribath, she doesn't need that right now. She reminded the solid brown with a pat against the thick curve of his broad jaw.

He rumbled softly in response, dipping his head in slow, but genuine submission and acknowledgement towards the Queen of the Weyr. Once he'd gotten himself settled, his thick, club-like tail curled about his feet, sitting properly as directed. Had the circumstances been different, there might have been some teasing from his rider regarding his suddenly fantastic memory of how to best cater to Callistath and earn her approval. Mes wasn't exactly pleased that the gold continued her formality, but understood in his own way her need for silence. He and Durian often needed such themselves until the timing was right to sort it out.

Now that's a face I haven't seen in a while. Little details didn't escape Durian's notice; too many turns out on the rougher edges of life, scrapping for survival had taught her that no detail was to be ignored or disregarded as 'unimportant'. Bed furs piled high and the mussed hair combined with the angry face- could have been the shadows playing tricks, but she guessed at the dark spots beneath the young Weyrwoman's eyes being from stress and lack of decent quality sleep. Her body language remained deceptively relaxed and at ease, not at all the signs of anyone looking for a confrontation or to accuse, or otherwise start whatever kind of argument Avalle had seen within the past several nights and days.

The twitch of the dark haired girl's lips was enough to confirm things for Durian; and the furs being thrown back was just another notch in her own favor of getting her friend out of the brooding cave and into the light for a little while. "After you," her hands sought the comfort of pockets as she sauntered along after the woman, the proverbial picture of laid back compliance. Mesreath lowered himself belly level- after Avalle and Callistath had properly taken themselves from the ledge first, as only polite- and his green eyed rider nimbly scampered up the arm and launched herself off the elbow to hook a strap and pull herself into the saddle.

Part of the reason she'd been chosen, or so she figured anyway, for Wingsecond was her memory; she had the uncanny ability to make and keep a meticulous mental calendar of sorts that had the habits, schedules and rotations of more of the Weyr's occupants than was really necessary for someone of her rank. As a result, she utilized her knowledge to secure a chunk of time where the ring would be empty of spectators, busy bodies, wingriders, weyrlings or even some of the wher patrol program going through their own drills. It wouldn't be an exceedingly long time, not enough to truly call it a vacation by any means.

But it would be enough to hopefully burn out some of that inferno raging within her friend's heart back down to a manageable level.

The ring was neatly prepared, the pells set up and the racks already neatly organized with the assortment of dull pot metal and wooden practice weaponry. She'd been tempted to paint a mockery of the Lord Holder's face on one of the pells and let Avalle go at it, but she'd deemed it far too much of a risk to take and had let it remain blank and sturdy. She angled back down from the brown's back once he'd settled into his landing, another affectionate, wordless pat and communication between the two. Guard the entrances and keep your mind open for me. I want to know if we're going to have company so I can give her a head's up.

Yes.[/i] And he was on guard instantly, mind open with little to no surface thoughts of importance to his surroundings. He would scan, looking for the minds, touching the emotions of those who got within a distance he found unacceptable.

Her jacket and overshirt joined the boots and nicer pants she'd worn, leaving her in a summer time outfit of short, just above the knee trousers and a sleeveless shirt that fit like a second skin. A pair of gloves, fingerless wher hide, removed themselves from the pocket of her jacket and were slipped on wordlessly as well. She'd stretched before going to fetch Avalle, and was ready for however long they had to hash things out.

Durian took her place in the center of the ring and waited. "Warm up first if you want, you'll be less stiff and sore later." It was advice; nothing more than that and entirely up to what the dark haired Weyrwoman wanted to do. Everything was being placed in Avalle's hands, allowing her to have control where the brownrider guessed she felt like she'd lost all of it in her life. Too much happened at once, and in her eyes, there hadn't been enough time for the goldrider to settle into one role before being forced into another, and then being branded as... well, she'd heard a number of unpleasant things murmured as of late.

If Avalle opened up, if she chose to talk and get some of it off her chest so that she could rest even just a little easier, Durian would make her own, private, judgment call from there- and those who spoke against Avalle would very likely be just as quietly taken to one side and spoken to; just to make sure they understood exactly what kind of person their Weyrwoman was in the past, the present and would continue to be in the future.

"When you're ready, don't hold back."

Simple words, but full of double meaning.

Mesreath, ever the watchful guardian, stood at attention and occasionally glanced in Callistath's direction. He too, would listen to her, should she choose to speak. Should she desire to do so, he would be a strong shoulder for her, one who would not lambaste with judgment or opinion unless it was requested of him to give. She was no threat to Durian, and that was what mattered the most in the end.[/size]

[Nia]

Callistath took to the air, with her rider along with her for the first time since they'd come back from that fateful flight. It felt nice, for once, like things were sort of going back to something resembling normal. There was still very strong feelings of depression coming from her rider, but Durian's appearance had managed to lighten her up enough that it was placed on the backburner of their minds for now. Care was a strange thing, Callistath mused, and she was really glad that Durian and Mesreath had come by. For once, Callistath was not able to console Her's at all, if only because it was partially the Gold's fault. Avalle was very prone to throwing herself headlong into depression and staying there until forcibly pulled out.

The ring was empty, and Avalle was glad for it. Durian had really gone a long way in preparing this for her, and that thought alone was enough to lift the lid of depression and anger. Callistath landed and Avalle dismounted, pausing for a moment at her dragon's side as she let Durian head into the ring first. She touched Callistath's mind wordlessly, still not entirely sure what she could say to the dragon, but the Gold understood. It wasn't an apology, but perhaps it was close enough that Callistath let the past few day's anger and contempt slide. Her rider's mood was the most important thing right now, even above the situation with the Weyr's leadership. That could only be taken care of once Avalle herself was in the right mindset for it. Callistath had a feeling that it wouldn't be fully healed until after she'd clutched, however....

Avalle nodded at Durian's suggestion and began to stretch. "Good idea," she muttered, not quite loud enough to really be heard, but it didn't matter. She hadn't really moved for quite some time, having been cooped up in her weyr and spending most of the time in her bed trying to sleep the world away. Warming up was definitely something she needed to do. Her arm strength had improved a ton from when she was a Candidate as well, and it was always kind of nice to see the progress she'd made in terms of physical fitness. From a weak Candidate to a tough Weyrwoman. Supposedly, at least. Right now she didn't feel all that tough at all.

Durian's words registered in her mind, and Avalle nodded, cracking her knuckles. She had grabbed her own pair of gloves as well, worn out from the training she'd done to make herself a decent threadfighter. Those with dragons who could flame really underestimated the weight and power of a flamethrower. Rather than depending on her dragon's strength, she had to depend on her own strength and agility in order to sear thread. Having been a somewhat clumsy teenager, Avalle had really had to push herself in her thread training. Callistath's rigorous elegance training had also helped.

"Alright. I'm expecting you to not hold back either," she said, though she knew that Durian wouldn't. They'd sparred together before and Durian hadn't taken her rank into account. Avalle was glad for that. "I'm ready."

Without waiting for Durian's acknowlegment, as the other girl had told her to go whenever she was ready, Avalle lunged towards the other girl, aiming a powerful punch towards her. She'd never held back in their previous sparring matches, and she wasn't about to now. It would be nice to get her aggression out in a way that was acceptable, and that wasn't having a go at D'lios, despite the fact that there were probably more than a few people in the Weyr who would support her on that. Ignoring the views of the Weyr was difficult if not impossible, and the scorn was too much to deal with. She wanted to escape, to get away from everyone who was judging her, and a quiet sparring match with someone who'd never judged her was exactly what she wanted.

Callistath nodded to Mesreath, and watched as their two riders faced each other in the ring. I haven't felt this much anger from her in Turns,

[/i] Callistath commented to the Brown, with a somewhat sad tone in her voice. She felt guilty, of course. They'd both been at fault for what had happened, but at the same time, Callistath felt as though it was mostly her's. She'd chosen Perbiath, but only because... why had she? He'd flown the best... he'd deserved it. The Gold was still conflicted, but she didn't know how to really express this to Mesreath. I feel guilty,[/i] she finally expressed, her tone implying that the notion of guilt was foreign to her. Callistath went quiet, curling her tail around herself in thought. Her face turned towards Mesreath, though every so often she would glance back to the two riders in the ring.[/blockquote][/size]

[kireon]

It was all about simple courtesies.

Avalle had made her welcome, had gotten her to call Dalibor home and genuinely see, feel, and come to embrace it as the meaning of the word implied. In return, the young woman's efforts were returned with the kind of loyalty and friendship she hadn't offered since her days running wild with those now situated in homes of their own- safe and sound. It was odd, how one remembered the little things in times of crisis. Things so inconsequential and meaningless at the time suddenly became so much more in the present.

She and Durian had parted ways duty wise, similar but entirely different responsibilities had come into play. Avalle preparing for the day where, inevitably, she may have had to succeed Fajra, a sombering possibility that had come to painful reality all in the span of heartbeats. And she in the role of Wingsecond pretending to be Wingleader in the instances where she believed O'sho's attention was best served to the woman who rested within their weyr.

But the two's paths crossed more often than one initially thought, and in the end, they were the same; two bonded to powerful, potentially lethally so, dragons who represented the very best, and worst, of themselves as a whole.

Much to the horror of some, rank wasn't taken seriously until there was a time for it.

She had no use for fancy knots, titles, or any of the like. She was a bloody dragonrider, and had trained with all the weyrlings, slaved away and trained until she was tired enough to barely be able to keep her eyes open long enough to make sure she'd eaten. Memories from training flooded back, this very dirt circle, the pells, and the instructions drilled into them from day one. There was no rank here, only flesh and blood bodies, the hearts, and the minds of four individuals.

Avalle. Callistath. Herself. Mesreath.

More words with double meaning behind them. "Against you? Never."

Quick as a greased tunnelsnake, Durian's hand snapped out to seize Avalle's forearm, and if the strike had connected, her hand would grip tight, pull the shorter woman forward, and past her own body with one step. The momentum, the energy in the punch would be redirected, pulled into moving where she wanted the woman to go. She'd learned this on the streets and had taken care to hone the craft. Lyrnn had been most helpful in correcting some mistakes she'd made in the past, and she'd made it a point to attend some of those wherling lessons and volunteer to spar with him, and the kids, as well.

Might end up suggesting that to Avalle as well.

One knee lifted, foot snapping out to catch her on the upper arm and shoulder if the woman didn't block. Her expression remained the same intently focused, concentrated one she always took while in the arena. There was nothing but the two of them there, and she damn well intended to keep it that way until the Weyrwoman decided it was time for words, not action, for the moment.

Briefly, she found herself mildly amused at the idea of the both of them walking out with black eyes or otherwise bruised. She could just hear the disapproving scoldings from others who were less... inclined to do their own bloody thinking. 'Did you really punch the Weyrwoman in the face?! How dare you? She is your leader and deserving of some restraint!' The voices rose, some shrill, some disbelieving, and others utterly insulted.

Oh yeah, she'd totally offer her friend restraint- once those fussy types came face to face with the worst side of Avalle's temper in the ring and walked out of there without getting their asses chewed in more ways than one.

Not. She wasn't born yesterday.

Bulky muscle rippled beneath his hide, still tender in some places from his leap to catch and glide down with the much larger Drieth. Could have been the sensitivity from the medicine still bothering him, however. Of that he couldn't distinguish without Durian's aid- and distracting her was simply not an option. His head turned, politely, toward Callistath at her words, the sad tone in her voice.

He didn't like Perbiath.

Never had.

But as much as he loathed and itched to take the upstart out, Callistath had chosen him where she could have taken another. Callistath didn't necessarily choose wrong, per say, but that she was in doubt about her choice made him upset on her behalf, in several ways.

Much like his bonded.

A quiet rumble was his initial response, stretching his neck out toward her to brush and rest against the bottom of her jaw, well within easy snap-and-bite range should she take offense to his liberties with her person. It was an extremely rare ,public, display of submission and deference to the new Senior Queen- though it was as much about trust as it was reminding her that he was, and always would be, her ally. It is a good deal of change to take in at once,[/i] he finally commented. those who blame you are in the wrong. You are not the one doubted.[/i] In a rare display of wordy eloquence that was rather remiscent of his rider's more personable side, Mesreath's emphasis on the word 'you' along with a brief flash of Callistath and Avalle together revealed he thought of them as one, much the way he thought of himself and Durian.

He grumbled silently to himself on what he would have to say next. While Durian believed, and he too, that a dragon only bonded to their mirror, there was always that room for doubt on the rider's side. Perbiath did fly the strongest.[/i] Without knowing it, he mirrored the golden queen's own thoughts, just to her rather than keeping it to himself.

Still didn't like the brownpair in the slightest, but it wasn't like he wouldn't have taken the brown out himself had he been able to get off the ground that evening. He would follow Callistath's decision, however, and Durian's as well, on the matter and leave it at that.

...though if Perbiath crowded him, there might be a warning snap in his direction, just out of spite.

His head shifted, only a little, to catch an eyeful of the combatants sorting themselves out to clash again within the center of the ring. This round would likely be fists and feet alone, weapons would not be included unless someone's temper exploded further and a more intensive session needed. Because of her anger?[/i] He inquired, giving a simplistic guess as to why the foreign emotion bothered his golden friend. When the darkness rose to claim Durian's thoughts, and he was unable to snap her out of it, he too felt the unpleasant churn of guilt.

Perhaps it was the same?[/size]