Fear & Ruin

Xanadu Weyr - Training Grounds
A wide, grassy expanse, nestled into the gentle bowl shape where something's taken a bite out of the mountain. It's high above the level of the beach, and there's a good eastern view of the lake and a long path leading down to that sandy shore. Granite cliffs surround it on the other sides.

While much of the grounds are left in their natural state, one area has been trampled and trodden by enough feet that the grass struggles to grow. A running track circles a set of equipment - straw dummies with wooden frames, obstacles of various sizes and shapes, and targets for flaming, archery, and whatever else.

There's a dragon-sized opening to the south that leads to the cavernous weyrling barracks, and a smaller tunnel to the northeast - large enough for dragons newly emerged from the sands, but quickly outgrown by hatchlings who are then forced to take the long way around - at least, until they learn to spread their wings and fly. Between them in both position and size, a jagged crack in the stone leads to a dim cave with the sound of water.

5 days after hatching

« ONWAAAAAaaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaRD! » At least you always know when Glorioth is coming. It helps when one needs to dodge aside, which F'yr doesn't, because he's always too slow to keep up with the momentum-building bronze who has an uncanny knack for all these physical tasks like GALLOPING INTO THE TRAINING YARD, booming his laughter, « AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH HA HA! That was F'yrsomely fantastic, my weak nursemaid. But a little faster next time. You missed my best side by being back there. » "I'm pretty sure I'd just see an ass if I was up front, too," « What was that? » F'yr doesn't say it again, but even if he had, Glorioth isn't listening anymore because now that they're out on this crisp, breezy autumnal day with clouds chasing each other across the blue sky, there's bigger things that need his attention. WHERE IS THE NEXT ADVENTURE? He is on a (continual) quest to find it!

What’s that low throaty chuckling of approval for the comical jab? It’s not human, but rather draconic, in the sense that it’s one individual’s mental voice — and none other than Kihatsuth’s. As signature as her voice, is the darkness in her mind too; many would have caught on now that the green’s mindscape is simple. It’s darkness, save for that mirror and the masks. Poor Ru'ien, one so bright, tethered to something so… chaos born or is she simply a manifestation of everything HE is, in living flesh? Who knows. Thoughts like those keep him up at night. Ru’ien is currently preoccupied with putting away some rags and oiling equipment, while it’s Kiha who has her full attention on F’yr, now that Glorioth has gone off to lead the vanguard. Even at rest, she holds herself with predatory confidence, front legs crossed and wings pinned tightly to her sides. Her head is lifted, slightly tucked, giving her already elongated features the illusion of longer, sharper, lengths. If they could show actual facial expressions, her’s would be smug amusement and neutral curiosity.

WHAT HO. Look, the promise of adventure right here. « LOOK, frail F'yr, it's the big one! » That's Kihatsuth. The sheer volume of greens surrounding Glorioth in the barracks has forced him to resort to labels rather than names, at least, until they penetrate that inarguably thick skull he has been blessed (cursed?) with. « That one's a friend, right? » It's F'yr's job to keep track of these things since he also cannot seem to remember which one has been labeled potentially shifty-eyed friend and which is already a foe. This is really a good thing for the barracks at large because he forgets routinely and it makes every two or three days a chance for a fresh start. « GOOD DAY TO YOU, BIG ONE. FROM WHENCE HAVE YOU COME? » Don't let his question fool you; Glorioth doesn't care, unless, « HAVE YOU SEEN ANY EVIL-DOERS DOING EVIL IN YOUR JOURNEYS? » The general noise of Glorioth's always-with-the-shouting communications that are just cringe-ably too loud as a matter of routine course might distract from the more subtle aspects of his mindtouch: the sound of distant battle, the smell of … yes, that's what a hero smells like - some heady amalgamation of everything brave and bold and wonderful, and of course the flash of fire that spells DOOM for all his enemies, just for FUN. F'yr does catch up as his dragon breeches the larger distance between himself and his clutchsister in a run that comes to a graceful stop and allows him to pose with wing spars, just so, showing him at his greatest heroic angle. "Hello, Kihatsuth," the bronzerider offers his best bro's lifemate: see, one of them can keep the greens straight. "You look very well," he compliments the recent oiling with a smile only to earn a sharp look from his dragon. STOP PRATTLING ON, there are more important matters to discuss.

« Don’t you know, » Kihatsuth’s voice dips to a lower, almost purred cadence, as dry humour suffuses her tone. « That it’s rude to comment on a lady’s size? » A flash of a mask scowling in anger, then back to a neutral smile. « But so kind of you to notice! » She’s a big girl and she knows it and if anyone is wise, they’ll not mention that she’s yet to figure out how to move without snarling herself on those talons! It’s getting better. Just… don’t mention it. « Evil-doers? » Oh, that’d be her, in some sense of the title but she’ll play innocence in the demure tilt of her head. « Hmm, no. Can’t say I’ve seen any! But, » Click-click goes those talons of hers, in a thoughtful-idle movement. « Say if I did, by chance? What would you do? » Oh, tell her, Glorioth, in grand detail! Enlighten her. As for F’yr’s compliments? She shakes out her head and neck, wings ruffling as she settles herself a little more arrogantly in her pride; look at them, bronze and green, all puffing up in postures of display! It’s almost comical. Almost. “… y’know, I’m finding that complimenting them always comes with a mixed result.” That is very distinctly Ru’ien’s voice, as he returns from putting supplies in place for the next weyrling pair who’ll need it. He’ll smile, some of that usual brightness of his showing through the exhaustion. “Hey, F’yr. Holding up, so far?” There’s a gesture to both him as a whole and then to his ribs. As for the bronze? “Hello to you too, Glorioth.” Cue a respectful dip of his head and maybe just a hint of wariness but he often does the same with Kiha.

« Oh, sister, » because even if he's not real sure which one he is, he's pretty certain all these dragons about the same size (if usually smaller) than himself are related to him. « I would love to tell you. » HE REALLY WOULD. « But I'd rather show you! » WHO ON PERN SHOWED A BABY DRAGON SUCH INTENSELY GRAPHIC VIOLENT SCENES? Okay, listen. His people are kind of caricatures at this point, and all of them look suspiciously like upright herdbeasts because he doesn't really pay enough attention to people's faces to know whether he's talking to a human or a herdbeast in disguise and he probably doesn't actually want to harm any humans (what with that inborn dragon DNA), BUT all of them gush blood impressively and some squish like bugs underfoot, and— YOU GET THE IDEA. Every Evil-Doer Doing Evil meets a GRISLY END at his HEROIC HANDS- er, talons. « How would you do it? » COMPARE NOTES? He would like to. Even if he's already sure his way is the best. (Possibly the bloodiest.) F'yr's hand reaches to rest on Ru'ien's shoulder as the smith joins him, a brief comradery touch that might be F'yr getting the comfort he needs more than giving it, this time. "Ribs hurt." BECAUSE THEY'RE NOT HEALING, not yet, not with all the sudden movements he's been having to pull to keep his dragon even marginally under control (AHAHAHAHAHAH). Glorioth only sometimes deigns to notice the other riders, but this time the bronze's whirling gaze turns on Kihatsuth's rider and he greets, « GOOD DAY TO YOU, PINK PIPSQUEAK. » It's a respectful title, really. Or at least, from this dragon, it's not actually meant as an insult, just a candid assessment of the man in the moment.

Kihatsuth’s head tilts further in silent inquiry and she remains very still while she waits on her much larger brother. WHO ON PERN INDEED? Yet her delight is immediate, talons clicking again as she fixates on the violent scene. « How INTRIGUING! » she croons in appreciation for the herdbeast destruction, no matter how grisly and upsetting it may be. Violence? Rolls off of her like water. « How would I? » OH, Glorioth! You sneaky thing, you. Her mask becomes a smirk, then neutral as she mulls that over. « Well… » Does he mind if she borrows his —pawns— herdbeast caricatures? No? Oh good. They’ll be rearranged and then morphed: some are turned to stone, others completely erased, some twisted…”artfully”. « Like this, maybe that… ooh, how about this? » Did… did one just combust into flames? It did. « Am I doing this right? » Said oh-so cheekily! With Kiha distracted with her brother, Ru’ien welcomes that clasp to his shoulder, regardless of how brief it may be. “Hope that’ll mend soon.” WHY DOES HE SOUND A TOUCH SKEPTICAL? Maybe it’s because he just got called a Pink Pipsqueak!? There’s a withheld sigh, as Kihatsuth makes that chuffing sound of hers while her mind ripples in laughter. Such a title!

Sneaky is giving the painfully straightforward Glorioth far too much credit. If he ever seems sneaky, it's only because one hasn't gotten the proper full view of the scope of his character. « Ooh, I like what you did with the fire. » Really, any destruction of herdbeasts is 1000% good in this bronze's book, but Kiha is creation. « Don't neglect the limbs! An exposed joint is an open invitation! AHAHAHAHAHA HA HA! » The bronze advises heartily, in case she needed any help in that department. "Not likely," F'yr replies to the smith, but he sounds more resigned than angry about it. "The healers keep checking on me, but I'm getting the hang of the bandages. Maybe I'll ask you to learn the tying so they don't have to come down? I can't get it tight enough on his own." NOT THAT HE NEEDS TO LIFT HIS SHIRT, but he does, showing the wrap wrap wrap of white bandages not yet bloodied by dragon feeding and turning carefully to show the location of the knot. Now, that it leaves his abs exposed under the edge of the white, and his pecs at the top can't be helped. (AND WHY WOULD ANYONE WANT TO HELP IT?)

« And it's rude to ignore an invitation! » Kihatsuth's voice drips with a hint of that sadistic laughter of hers, though the mask only switches to a mildly chaotic devilish smile — all in a flash, so quick! Maybe that was a trick of the eye? Because she's back to being oh-so innocent in the next breath, as easy as a flick of the wrist or, well, breathing, in this case. She'll continue being creative, likely long after Glorioth's attention may wane and turn elsewhere. Caricatures to cookies (all the better to snap off limbs! Ten times more the satisfying CRUNCH!) and other such designs. If Ru'ien weren't so damn exhausted, he would come up with a wonderful teasing remark — something about grating something or other. They've likely been warned about high emotions and all that along with it, so it could be for the best that he doesn't remark upon it. Last thing they both need is Kiha's artistic renditions of whatever could go through his head. Still, he'll examine the bandages and that knot, only to peer up at his fellow weyrling. "You want me to try it now?" he asks, which is pretty much the confirmation of 'YES, he'll help!' Will he be good at it? … that'll remain to be seen. How hard can it be, though? "I'd say I'd trade you for the amount of times Kiha's caught me with her talons, but I don't think that'd be any better." Not that he's been seriously harmed at all, just a scrape here and there. He's much more mindful now and even though she's been improving bit by bit, there are good days and bad days.

« VERY! » Glorioth is delighted Kihatsuth understands. The green can be as subtle or as obvious as she likes because it's plain that Glorioth is too busy being pleased with himself to even notice. HE EVISCERATED THOSE PRETENDY HERDBEASTS SO GOOD, DID EVERYONE SEE? WHERE ARE HIS PRAISES? He looks to F'yr, "Huh?" Eyes whirl a little faster in his annoyance. "Oh! Right, yes. I saw. Very… bloody. Brave and uh, honorable." He's going to regret this placation later, but for now it gives the bronze just what he wants, even if it's a little lackluster (DO BETTER, F'YR). He was distracted, so maybe he can be forgiven. His blond head shakes at Ru'ien's willingness to jump to action, "Nah. Next time the healer comes to check, I'll grab you," FIGURATIVELY, see: those strong feelings they're avoiding, mmk? "And she can instruct you." The remark about his own injuries does prompt F'yr to conduct a visual assessment of the smith as he drops his shirt. Glorioth jerks his head back toward his rider even as the young man's face does color. "I'm glad it's not anything serious," he manages aside to his bro as he looks back at the bronze. « Shroud your perversions, my devoted if disruptive F'yrless one, can't you see there are more important things at hand? » And really, where such things are concerned, distractions of strong emotion are wholly unwelcome and even scorned. « We were about to sally forth on a quest! » They were? THEY ARE NOW. « NOW. I believe we need to go north until we find the evil doers doing evil. I'm sure I heard there are evil doers in that direction. »

Ru'ien is respectfully quiet though he'll observe the exchange between F'yr and his bronze; no shame in it, really. They probably ALL have moments like this, as they fumble through figuring out how to control this new bond. No doubt on more than one occasion, he's caught himself muttering in open conversation with Kihatsuth. It's… definitely a learning curve! "Never thought wrapping bandages was such a fickle task, but… yeah. Come grab," FIGURATIVELY. "Me next time. I'd be more than happy to help you out, if it means you can heal!" Seriously, he means that. « Perversions? » Oh no. Kihatsuth's head tilts and bobs forwards, as she no doubt attempts to peer around Glorioth at the pair of weyrlings. Suspicions! But dry humor too, as her voice is nothing but a bemused, husky purr. « Are they being naughty? » Shall they punish them? There's an almost too delighted implied demon's grin, complete with teeth. It makes Ru'ien's skin crawl and the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up. Ugh! Glorioth's distraction comes at a GOOD time, however and the green's focus turns on a dime. « North? What is north!? I've never been! Why wasn't I informed of this? » She rambles, in the lilting cadence of hers, moods ever fluid throughout. Ru'ien sighs, casting a rather exasperated look towards F'yr. Why? "It's starting to feel like they're never going to slow down… or maybe that's just the lack of sleep talking. I — I can't even picture how we're expected to do lessons."

Healing. AHAHAHA, what a hilarious thought, Ru'ien. F'yr must think so, too, because he gives the other young man a wan smile. It won't be apparent for sevendays yet that the intense level of activity his bronze maintains is, in fact, having a detrimental effect on his ability to heal that/those cracked rib(s). « Don't mind my F'yrtive lifemate, » GLORIOTH DOESN'T (now that F'yr has his thoughts under control, ugh; lifemates). « NORTH is a direction. » Glorioth explains helpfully, and if he sounds very superior for knowing something Kihatsuth doesn't, well, don't worry, that's just his him. « There are other ones too. They're used on maps and with directions. The important ones are north, west, Risali, and R'hyn. I have acquired just one such map. » Nevermind that F'yr's looking frozen and red. The dragon stares at him. He snaps his wings shut and open again to make a loud CLICK CLICK. « F'YRFULLY DULL-WITTED, THE MAP. » He demands as though F'yr couldn't be more dense and a gout of flame and particularly loud ring of a sword on sword gets him moving mechanically, and in a way lets him avoid looking at Ru'ien, the tall blond digs out of one of his pockets a scrap of a page that looks like it once was a wing roster. HOPEFULLY NO ONE NEEDED THAT PIECE OF WORK THAT CAME HOME WITH F'YR ON HATCHING NIGHT. OOPS. The page has been splashed over with talon drawn blood into a mess that probably only Glorioth himself can interpret. « NOW, MY LARGE LEAF-LIKE COMPATRIOT, if you'll look here, you can see we can go north, » No, still totally unintelligible, « and find the SHINING SILVER SANDS OF THE MOON. I'm not quite sure which moon, since there are two or four, but it should hardly make any difference. Any MOON SAND should be valuable. » He is so proud. It doesn't matter that F'yr at least looks pained and gives Ru'ien now a briefly helpless look.

Ru'ien, ever the optimistic one! Don't be fooled by his (new) name. Kihatsuth, for her part, just keeps that neutral smiling mask in place, while beneath she is simmering with dark humor and barely checked tolerance for Glorioth's… well, Glorioth. As IF he assumes her naiveness on directions! IF HE ONLY KNEW THE POWER SHE… ahem. Never mind, that. « Does this moon sand hold anything more than value? » Oh, her interest is piqued now. FORGET everything else! Except that map. She's going to push to her feet with an eerie sort of grace despite her size and formidable talons. Craning her head, she'll do her best to glimpse it, even if it means looming over the boys (and notably, she'll purposely lean closer to Ru'ien). Looking from the map, to F'yr in his red faced and frozen state, to both there lifemates and back again, he'll wait for the opportune time when distraction is best. Then he'll hurriedly whisper in hushed tones to his fellow weyrling and closest bro and friend. "… is he always like this? Are… are we supposed to be able to read that?" HE DOES NOT question what was USED to pen that map! Nope. He can hazard a guess well enough.

"No." F'yr breathes out the word in answer. "Sometimes he's worse." And it should be funny. Maybe it is. Maybe it's even a joke. It's so hard to tell with all the sleep deprivation going around. Meanwhile, Glorioth is attending to the most important things: « I have heard it said that it might have mysterious properties, but we won't know until we adventure and claim some for ourselves, » because obviously Kihatsuth is invited on this undertaking. She might even now be essential. « All is ready, » nevermind that F'yr looks mildly surprised by this claim from the bronze; really, he should have given up bothering to be surprised by anything by this point. "Of course it is," is not meant to be dangerously indulgent; it's sarcastic, something that before all this broken sleep and intense activity, F'yr rarely was and now… Well, Glorioth does have a way of bringing it out of him sometimes. « The only thing we still need is Roderick. » He looks to F'yr, expectantly. F'yr looks back. There's a pregnant pause. The dragon blinks first (figuratively), tilting his head and tipping his nose down toward the man, in a draconic expression of suspicion. « F'yrfully brainless, have you lost track of Roderick again? » F'yr's hand smacks his face and rubs. There's another of those groans. "No, Glori, he's sleeping. He's a baby. You're a baby. You should both be sleeping." « AHAHAHAHA HAHA HAHAHAH, oh, oh, F'yr. F'YR-NOT! I AM NOT THE LEAST TIRED YET. » Famous last words always sound that way, with that ridiculous level of confidence. What could go wrong?

DO GO ON, GLORIOTH! Kihatsuth is listening, with the rapt attention! « Mysterious properties? » she repeats in her own purred fashion, before drawing back a step. Her wings, usually so tightly held at her sides, now move with uncanny elegance, to match the emotion in her tone; in which case, is manic enthusiasm. « Why didn't you just say that in the FIRST place, brother? » Cue more of that laughter of hers, finishing with a sweep of her wings as her large frame turns, even her tail curving just-so in elegant and theatrical display. It all smoothly transitions, in a blink of an eye, to her wings back at her sides and a quizzical tilt of her head; even the mask in her mirrored mind lifts a porcelain brow. « What's a Roderick — oh! » NOW she's got it! What a cleverly quick girl, isn't she? Slyly, she adds. « Now I see. Glorioth, if it's one of those creatures you need, I can help! » What is she up to? She flicks a wing, as though summoning. Ru'ien, distracted as he is by conversation, isn't aware of the shifts in her mood and personality (okay so he's failing right now, right? Bad weyrling.) "Guess it's all part of learning who they are and well… just hoping it mellows with age?" Okay, that was a weak attempt and even he knows it! "Sorry, that was lame but I seriously got nothing." So they're all doomed, right? He could try to save face, but that face is instead going rather slack in dumbfoundedness when firelizards show up. Not only the three who belong to him, but a suspicious amount (okay, so it's like… three more but STILL) of NOT HIS! "Kiha… what did you do?" he begins to exclaim, with a slight note of exasperated panic. « I don't know! » The green exclaims in delight. Seriously, she's almost clapping here! « But isn't it wonderful? They just follow me around! So, here you are, Glorioth! Would any of these do? » Oh no. No, she just SUMMONED HIM AN ARMY.

"One day, we're going to hug a really long time." To process all of this crazy. And maybe never speak of it again. Of course, F'yr has just finished intoning this in one of his very best deadpan voices when there are minions. Everywhere. LEIRITH WOULD BE SO PROUD. He stares, he looks from firelizards to green weyrling to his lifemate, to his own lifemate who's startled and wings have mantled like it's about to be a fight. When it becomes apparent that these are friendly forces, he rumbles disappointment tinging his mindtouch. A FIGHT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER, in the gospel of life according to Glorioth. He considers the firelizards, considers his sister, « Well, I suppose these could be useful. » How, he has no idea. Save the riddles for the literate. Possibly they could help carry more of the moon sand? It's not a thought Glorioth is about to have and not one F'yr will share. « But they're no Roderick. » Roderick is special, see? He looks back to his rider. "No," F'yr can now say the word flatly and firmly; impressive, no? "Roderick needs to sleep. If you want him to be on this quest, why don't you delay it and practice chasing with these friends of Kihatsuth's," because he will absolutely give all the credit where the credit is due. The bronze, for his part, seems torn. Quests are Important. But training is important, too, so the quests will go more easily. He considers the firelizards again. DO ANY OF THEM HAVE SHIFTY EYES? Given Roderick's over-large eyes, one might worry that Glorioth doesn't even know the meaning of 'shifty eyes,' and the implications thereof, but don't say that to him.

"Definitely a very long hug," Ru'ien agrees with a heavy sigh and the hint of a wry grin that may just be the exhaustion talking or he's trying to subtly hint at some unspoken joke. Forgive him if his usual exuberance isn't on point, folks! He's tired, so tired. He keeps that same dumbfounded look even when F'yr looks his way as the tableau continues. Don't worry Glorioth, someday it COULD BE a fight! It depends on Kihatsuth; today she seems amiable even to him! « You suppose? » She returns in a tone that is affronted and confused in the same moment. « What is so special about this Roderick? » Curious minds would like to know! Just as quickly as the three extras arrived, they vanish as her "hold" on them is tenebrous at best. The trio that remain are a bronze, brown and blue, who seem comfortable in their presence — in other words, they're Ru'ien's. Kihatsuth perks up at the mention of 'training', wings mantling just-so as she peers expectantly at her larger bronze brother. Wellllll? Ru'ien's brain seems to have restarted, as he's now muttering to himself while F'yr is arguing about baby firelizard needs versus Glorioth's desires. "… great now I have something else to ask about, like it wasn't already confusing enough… gonna have to watch out for hoards of firelizards…" Okay, slight exaggeration there but listen, surprises were never his thing! "Maybe," This is addressed to F'yr, when he can gain his attention again. "Training IS for the best…" They'll get tired faster, right, bro??

If there's a joke, this time F'yr misses it. It's not especially surprising considering that he's as tired as he is and has other taxes on his attention. « Roderick is my little ally. Always so supportive, so willing to sing my praises. Not with actual singing, although that's one area in which he could stand to improve himself. » Nevermind that the firelizard in question is younger still than the dragons. « And my F'yrsome companion tells me that I bravely rescued him from some dark and terrible place. » He glows with pride while a hand covers F'yr's face a look of pain there that is somehow also still amused lest anyone begin to believe that F'yr doesn't actually love his challenging lifemate (because Faranth help him, but he does, y'all). « He is my stalwart companion. A very observant little fellow. I shall make a point to introduce you, » if he doesn't forget in the meantime. "Still sorry about your pillow," the man mutters to Ru'ien of the puked on, destroyed pillow from that particular DANGEROUS MISSION. "The doll was probably for the best," comes with a deadpan expression that he uses while he stares down his prankster: JIG IS UP, RU'IEN. "You know, Ila was right there," he gestures to the scant space that separates the two weyrlings, "when I woke up with that awful thing in my arms." There's accusation in his eyes. DEFEND YOURSELF IF YOU DARE, BRO. Or just laugh, laughing is good too, because F'yr is cracking a wide grin. He even manages to clap Ru'ien on the shoulder in his own show of bro-ly support with only a flick of dragon eyes and a disapproving snort. He considers the remaining firelizards, "Think they're game?" Being chased by enormous baby dragons could be scary, but then again the firelizards can jump between and these baby dragons certainly cannot. Yet. (RIP Future F'yr.)

It's kind of hard NOT to love these dragons they've both ended up with! Ru'ien may have a similar pained, exhausted expression at times, there's no doubt that he wouldn't trade Kihatsuth for the world! Even if she keeps surprising him and not always in the best of ways. It could have been worse? « How fascinating! » She croons in a mixture of genuine interest and sarcasm, a mask taking shape in a half-smirking expression and yellow eyes. Her attention is waning, however, and there's a small tremor of irritability starting to build. Talons tap-click against the ground, while her wings flick with restlessness. Are they going to DO something or should she just go back to lounging on her —throne— the ground. « Mhm, yes. Please do. » She answers, somewhat dismissive, to Glorioth. Ru'ien waves his hand, equally dismissive, to the apology over the pillow. "Ah, no big deal. Turned out someone else was hoarding two so I just talked them into letting me… borrow it." Should there be air quotes? Definitely air quotes. Look at that not-so innocent grin. Ahem! He feigns disappointment next, though is unable to keep up the ruse for long. No one got energy for that! "What was so wrong with Scuzzy?" « I liked them! » Kihatsuth is quick to interject on that, with a beaming masked-grin of her own. JIG IS UP!? What jig? Ru'ien is still grinning, like he KNOWS NOTHING (but knows everything and isn't the least bit sorry). The clap to his shoulder just bring a low chuckle and a return clasp to his arm. "Sorry about Ila catching you." THAT wasn't part of his plan! But he's gonna laugh about it anyways. As for the remaining trio, he shrugs. "May as well find out? Either they're gonna be chased off or they'll play along and we'll tire out these two," Cue a flick of his hand to the bronze and green, along with a meaningful look to F'yr. Win, win? MAYBE THEY'LL GET A NAP OUT OF IT!

If Kihatsuth is only humoring him now, Glorioth is none the wiser. Too dumb to be tricked though he may be, he's also about as bright as a cave at midnight when it comes to a variety of sometimes disingenuous responses. It's probably because he's certain with every fiber of his being that whatever he's saying, whenever he's saying it, is completely fascinating, so his big-little sister's only half-interested observation is already in accordance with his own feelings on the matter. « Maybe I'll call you the smart one, » because Faranth forbid he learn any of his many green sisters' names yet. If she doesn't like, 'the big one,' this is an offered alternative. He doesn't linger overlong on the topic of Roderick, no matter how attached he is growing to the tiny, grotesque brown. The brown isn't here, and they are. And there are these other firelizards… His tail begins to twitch in what must be anticipation of training. Meanwhile, "He was laughing, Ru'ien." Ila'den. Laughing. Over him when he awoke. Only when F'yr says this, deadpan and in a tone saturated with false reproach, he slurs the other weyrling's name and it sounds like, "Ruin," which is repeated with some amusement now, the previous ribbing humor dropped in favor of this new thing. He considers the other man, smile spreading to a grin. "Ruin," as if it's a new realization of the similarity and then there's laughter, bright (slightly hysterical, but when is it not these days) laughter. Though an apologetic (and also necessarily concerned) glance goes to the green whose favorite stuffie "Scuzzy" may have been, he doesn't return to the topic. "I'm gonna call you that from now on." And his hand goes to ruffle the other man's hair. He might manage a half of the gesture if Ru'ien doesn't duck away when Glorioth makes an impatient noise. « Always with the touching, » is real reproach from the bronze. « Can't you see there are more important things here? » LIKE THIS TRAINING SOMEONE SUGGESTED. Annnnnd go. Without warning, Glori takes matters into his own talons by turning to charge off after the nearest firelizard. You may wish to run (or fly, in this case), little lizard. He's gained experience and finesse since his first charge out of his shell; staying still might end badly.

See, that'll be a dangerous combination later in life! Glorioth and his obliviousness and Kihatsuth always up for the challenge of exploiting that chink in his 'armor'. For that reason, he'll very well be one of her favorite pawns. « I do like the sound of that. » She agrees, with that disarming smirking mask of hers that comes off as agreeable, but is secretly plotting. What's in a name? She doesn't mind. "Yeah, and?" Ru'ien quips back to F'yr with a smirk of his own, only his is much more playful and teasing (just ignore the edge of not-enough-sleep lurking still). "Would it have been better if he was scowling? Maybe growling? … he's totally the type for that." OKAY, someone's getting off track but if Ru'ien went on tangents before, he's doubly prone to it now! Only F'yr distracts him, by repeating his name with emphasis on a similar word that. "Oh." It's clicking into place now! "OH! Oh my… you're joking!" The ruffle to his hair earns a playful shove, as he begins to chuckle. That chuckle bubbles into actual laughter next, as he aims to lightly punch his fellow BRO in the shoulder. "Go right on ahead!" he challenges, en lieu of the new nickname. His grin should be plenty of warning, as his eyes narrow and something MORE dawns on him there. "Fear." Hey, it's only fair? Here comes that laughter again, stifled (or he at least makes a snorted attempt). "Fear and Ruin! HA!" Kihatsuth doesn't seem the least bit ruffled by the touching, though she's EYEING both boys suspiciously! But oh — there goes Glorioth and she makes a curious warbling sound as she takes off in his wake. Could she keep up? Maybe. Those three firelizards are definitely taking off, with one zipping immediately Between. The other two do the same but reappear a few feet ahead. Nyah nyah! Sucks to be you, you land bound clumsy babies!

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