Logs:To Adapt
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| RL Date: 26 October, 2015 |
| Who: T'gar, Asaroth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: A convict weyrling (unsuccessfully) tries to bond with his new lifemate. |
| Where: Weyrling Area, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 2, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Edyis/Mentions, Jo/Mentions, V'ret/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Language. |
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| Asaroth had bit him. Rat -- now T'gar -- was sure they weren't suppose to bite their lifemates whom they chose from the shell with all the trappings of love and joy and the sense of belonging, but his had. He had just finished feeding him for the umpteenth time that day and was mired in oiling him along the jawline when the little bronze dragonet had nipped his hand hard enough to draw blood. Of course he had cursed at him, shaking his stinging hand about like a wet napkin, and all Asaroth did in return was stare at him. It was always with the constant staring. Never any words. Rat's convinced his dragon was crazed and defected in some kind of way, and having that brief chat with Edyis didn't help matters. Just as well the bronze didn't talk. Whenever Asaroth was upset that the weyrling wasn't getting him his meat fast enough, or he was too itchy beyond reason, the rank smell of something rotting right beyond his nose was the message he got. It didn't take long for T'gar to start learning his language. If he smelled rancid meat, Asaroth was hungry. This time, he did detect a brief acrid-burning smell just before he got bit, and this wasn't the first time the scent hit him. Rat is starting to think it was some sort of warning scent and he had the mind to test the theory next time with a cloth-covered hand. Rat was use to adapting to change. Being brought up by renegade parents and living hand to mouth most of his life - even around his convict sentence - he he didn't have a choice. Learning accents like his Bitran one was one of the ways he adapted like a chameleon - to keep people from really finding out who he was. It worked for turns. Until Asaroth. Asaroth, who was currently probing into his head like a hot poker to a runner's butt. There was work to be done with duties and activities, and he would somehow have to get a meet in with Jo and the other Greenfields gang. There wasn't a whole lot of fanfare with his Impression, but he was fine with that. According to Jo, staying under the radar was his and V'ret's next challenge at the Weyr, anyway. But like the beasts he had supposedly wrangled in Bitra with his 'blooded' father, he needed to come to come sort of alliance with the little bronze that's depending on him. Before he starts in on the day's activities, Rat crouches down to Asaroth's level (making sure his limbs are out of biting range) and says to him in his real Cromese gait, "Alright, you little ass. We're going to have to learn how to deal with each other one way or another. That means, in front of these losers," he nods towards the barracks, "we've got to act like we're the best of friends and you adore me. Got it?" « ... » "That means, stop making me want to hurl up my food all the time, right?" Asaroth fidgets. It's almost cute in the way he lifts his wings up despite his ugliness, if you can call it cute. He looks quite unconcerned about whatever it is his convict weyrling's prattling on about as well. Glaring at him for the continued lack of response, "We don't need them thinking you're all creepy and defected, right? Even if you seem to be. I've got to keep my head down and that means you, too. Understand any of that?" There's no words from the little bronze, his head cocking downward to angle a look at T'gar in the silence that follows. The answer that comes, finally in words, was a raspy and leathery, « Who is L'rok? » addressing the weyrling's very last thought. There's a dankness that accompanies it. It has Rat frowning at the bronze for ignoring his lecture. "L'rok's the dragonrider friend we're seeing as soon as we finish all this shit today," he tells him, not liking the fact that Asaroth's probing his head again. Not one bit. "Maybe you can meet his dragon or something. Learn by example. I bet he doesn't bite his rider." That's met with a heavy silence, but there's now a tang in the air - a scent that tickles the back of Rat's throat and isn't wholly unpleasant for once. It's almost laugh-inducing. Asaroth is amused. "Yeah, yeah," he mutters to the bronze, straightening up from his crouch and beckoning him along with an arm gesture. "I'm all full of shits and giggles today. Come on." |
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Comments
Faryn (17:42, 26 October 2015 (PDT)) said...
He's terrifying me make him stop.
Ulyana (20:47, 26 October 2015 (PDT)) said...
Yay, there's someone else that can not-talk like Qhyluth! /confetti
Edyis (21:51, 26 October 2015 (PDT)) said...
I LOVED this, I cannot stop laughing. I'm gonna kidnap him and probably get eaten.
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