Difference between revisions of "Logs:Bromantic Make-ups"

Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr

Wedged between the lake and the rest of the vast bowl are the dusty feeding grounds. Here, the well-trampled ground is contained by a sturdy wooden fence, cutting right through one end of the lake to section it off into a muddy watering hole for the animals. Several gates allow people in and out, while at the back, large overhangs of rock provide the herd -- a mixed bag of herdbeasts, wing-clipped wherries, and fat porcines -- shelter from storms or the hot sun. What grass survives is usually bloodstained, but feeding troughs are stationed around the edges of the pen.

Fog fills the Weyr's bowl, blanketing everything in spectral shades of grey, dampening colours, filtering the sunlight down to a pale glow. Visibility is not at its best, which means that in order to see the beasts within the feeding pens, N'ky and Cailluneth are right at the fence. Of course, the scent of dragon keeps the creatures within away - but that doesn't stop the little green from pressing her head through the slats and peering through the mist to try and catch a glimpse to accompany the sights and sounds of so many fearful hearbeats, so many soft breaths into the cool air, so many snorts and grunts. For his part, N'ky is just leaning on the upper railing, elbows propped against the damp wood, the heels of his hands pressed against his forehead with his fingers knotted tight into his curls. He breathes heavily, unevenly until he coughs as if choking, then leans forward to spit over the fence. That done, he wipes his mouth on his sleeve and resumes his position.

As they are so often seen now, K'zin walks beside Rasavyth, his hands clasped behind his back, expression deeply thoughtful. Rasavyth doesn't carry such focus this morning, his attention instead on the fog and the light that filters through it. He stretches oversized wings, flapping them gently to try to manipulate the mist, but to little effect. It's a good stretch and exercise, at any rate. It makes his movements occasionally unwieldy, and he occasionally stumbles. The missteps don't draw K'zin's attentions until they're drawing near the fence and the bronze takes a little tumble. The brown haired man is quick to glide to a knee, checking the dragon deftly for sign of more serious injury. Annoyance colors Rasavyth's whirling gaze as he begins to right himself. K'zin starts to reach to help, but a growl curtails that effort, and the former Smith simply nods. It's then that awareness of the green pair is noted by dragon and transmitted to lifemate. K'zin, from one knee, cranes his head around to offer a muted smile to N'ky and Cai. "Morning. Are we missing a good show?" Humor accompanies his question, though it's not judging.

The 'show' they're missing is shared eagerly, best transmitted from mind to mind. A staccato heartbeat throbs with fear, faster and harder and louder alongside the thrashing of hooves and the scalding heat of lifeblood, drained from the vein. Cailluneth weaves the scene with colours of suggestion; excitement, satisfaction, instinct and, most prominent of all, unbridled pleasure. (Cailluneth to Rasavyth)

In no way able to share as much with K'zin, N'ky has to resort to grunting, cracking open one eye and tilting his head to look at his friend. He pulls in a deep, long breath, shoulders heaving as he does so, then lets it out after a few heartbeats in a long, slow rush of air. Then he turns to face the bronze weyrling, leaning back against the fence - with it behind him this time, though. Breathing deeply again, he then nods his head, manages a weak sort of smile, and then rubs his fist across his mouth roughly. "Th-there's not much to see," he stammers once he's slipped both hands back into his pockets.

To Cailluneth, Rasavyth's mind ripples from transparent glimmer to a reflection of her own mental presence. He includes the heady scent of fearful beast, the sounds of the chase, the wet gulping of heart and lung. He doesn't include any specific images or feelings, but clearly he is receptive to her story. For being a very verbally inclined dragon, the choice not to ruin this moment of far-ranging senses speaks of his apparent respect for the activity.

"Yeah," K'zin's response is casual as he rises from the knee he took and tucks his hands into his pockets, "I guess we are at a disadvantage in conditions like these. But as long as she's enjoying herself, I suppose that's what matters." He doesn't sound terribly committed to what he's saying, more like he's finding words to say for the sake of saying them. Boots scuff at the ground while Ras finishes righting himself, K'zin reaching out a hand, without looking, to brush a patch of mud from an offered forelimb. Then the pair move, together, towards the fence, a few feet away from the other pair.

To Rasavyth, Cailluneth has more than respect; hers is a lusty red desire for it, a deep grey sorrow that she's being held back. There's a dark suggestion of the press of the fence against her chest, an unwanted barrier. Then she picks up on his thoughts, lacing orange through fear, the grace of a hunting dragon suggested through greens not unlike her own hide - though with a hint of cinnabar, suggesting Rasavyth himself. The hunt, the pounce, the fight, the kill - her mind yearns for it with longing white.

Cailluneth looks to Rasavyth, but only fleetingly; the red whirl of her eyes is quickly diverted back to straining through the mist to pick out what shadows she can. She does, though, lean towards N'ky, pressing against his lower leg and curling her tail around his feet, possessively. Comfortingly, perhaps, because the teen doesn't look entirely... well, happy. "At a d-disadvantage? You g-guess we're 'at a disadvantage?" It may be frustration causing him to stumble over his words around the one person who's always had stutter-free speech; it may be something else. N'ky shakes his head, looking off to one side and exhaling heavily.

To Cailluneth, Rasavyth's mind begins to consider the fence, real and the traces of it imagined; to consider what holds her back, and the idea comes in a whisper, « Why should you be? » Mentally, he begins to strip the fence, one post turning rubbery and rolling back of its own accord followed by a second.

K'zin's look in response is confused, brown eyes blinking. Under his breath, he murmurs, "Shardit, what'd I say now?" To himself, more than anyone. "What would you call it?" He asks in a normal volume. "They can sense things beyond what we individually can. Isn't that a disadvantage when considering the show we're talking about?" The confusion is made greater because it was just chit-chat. Throw away humor. How'd he get here?

To Rasavyth, Cailluneth flirts with the temptation offered, but the hunting colours dissipate from her mind, the heartbeat tempo fading to silence. Instead, there's a resolute grey, steely and determined, stubborn and unyielding - yet with a hint of pink that agrees that boundaries such as fences really are such a bore. The obedient grey, however, says she's doing as she's told.

The confusion would seem to be on both sides, as N'ky blinks at the response, looking lost. "Y-you didn't mean the f-fog?" He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, awkward and uncomfortable. "Um... I th-thought you meant the fog." Brown eyes drop to look at Cailluneth, who withdraws her head from between the fenceposts to look adoringly up at him. His awkwardness melts as he returns the look, a loving half-smile tweaking up the corner of his lips.

« Suit yourself... » The whisper purrs, the nonchalance suggesting that it doesn't matter to him either way. The sounds and scents of hunt fade from his touch and the transparent shimmer is left, withdrawing in increments as his attention is stolen elsewhere. (Rasavyth to Cailluneth)

Grey turns to quicksilver, a hot flash of mercury; « I do. » Short. Sharp. A flicker of fire, then moonlight's cool paleness. (Cailluneth to Rasavyth)

K'zin blinks, twisting to look at N'ky squarely a moment before he turns back to the fence, laying forearms on it as he peers through the slats. "No, I just meant they've got better senses than we do, so we're at a disadvantage watching the show." He straightens from his lean and uses a hand to indicate the show to mean the feeding grounds at large. He posture holds tension, unease in his face.

To Cailluneth, Rasavyth's oozing touch recedes to nothing, a testament to how very little he cares.

"Oh." N'ky looks embarrassed now, and doesn't raise his gaze but to look fleetingly at K'zin - and that look is all discomfort, a pained wince. For a distraction, he bends down to pick up Cailluneth, who, while far bigger now, is still within an easy enough size to be cradled against his chest. She cranes her neck around to rest her head atop N'ky's, watching K'zin with eyes whirling fast, while her tail curls around her weyrling's waist. After a long silence, N'ky sighs softly. "I'm s-sorry, K-K'zin."

It's a trickle at first, the faintest stream of salt water from afar; interested, thoughtful, curious. It carries with it the crisp breezes of the ocean, along with a sharpened roar, the whisper that accompanies, compliments, weaves through the drumbeat over the Weyr. Iesaryth doesn't yet speak, but reaches out and pokes around from afar, her touch gentle, none of her heavy underwater weight brought to bear on the young bronze. So this is one that's not-hers. She's been watching, comparing, making notes. (Iesaryth to Rasavyth)

"I am, too, N'ky." K'zin responds after a quiet sigh of his own, he turns, arms folding across of his chest. He still looks uneasy. A grunt and huff from Rasavyth gets a look from the weyrmate and a little nod. He straightens up instead of hunching his shoulders. After a deep breath, he begins, "Nick. You might not see it because we don't act like you and Cai, but Ras is as much a part of me as Cai is of you. It's unreasonable and unfair to expect that I won't change at all, that I won't want to make changes. I want us to stay as good friend as we ever were, but we're not going to make it if there's no room for each of us to change and grow. I'm still me, but I'm growing up. It's up to you if you want to grow with me or just give up. If you're my friend, it means you accept all of me. Which includes Ras now. I feel like you expect me to turn my back on him, and you know I could never do that." His words are full of emotion, eyes beginning to glisten the more that he goes on.

« The transparent shimmer through which Rasavyth focuses himself is bowed, lens-like towards some matter when Iesaryth's mind reaches for his. Upon recognition of the touch of a gold who is not familiar to him, the lens ripples, flattening, stretching, changing. The version of Iesaryth's mindtouch that is extended to him is rapidly studied, and as elements become clear, they are reflected. First there are tiny rivulets of salty water flowing over the shimmering blankness of Rasavyth's mind. Then, tiny echoes of the sound of breeze, wave, and whispers above the water. Curiosity and delight mingle in his dulcet tenor voice, « So you are Iesaryth. » In sharing her name that seems obvious to him, there is strength added to the reflection of what he knows of her touch, reinforcing the briny breeze and the gentle slosh of water flow over and into itself. « I'm most pleased to make your acquaintance, my queen. » The part that differs, that is him is exactly this: there is a slight sheen to all that he projects, an oozing glimmer of the transparency: it's his charm, a way of making all that's shown him seem even more familiar and endearing. (Rasavyth to Iesaryth)

This is a queen that understands the issue of focus on a problem or an issue; there's almost a sense of apology for taking the bronze from that which he examines so closely, though Iesaryth is even curious about that too, quicksilver fish-thoughts moving swiftly below sun-splashed waves as her trickle widens to stream, to river, to ocean's tides. There's something of a warm echo of being mirrored; it's something she's accustomed to, even fond of. « I am. » It's simple, in her own light tenor, but there's some little pleasure there; her reputation proceeds her. « As am I yours, Rasavyth. » The manners are appreciated, but it's that glimmer that's most of interest, must be studied. All things in time. (Iesaryth to Rasavyth)

Cailluneth buries her muzzle in N'ky's curls, whuffling softly there while her paws - one resting on each of his shoulders - flex gently. It's almost as if she's reassuring him, because the weyrling looks far from happy with his downturned lips and brows low over his dark eyes. He looks at K'zin, then out into the mist that hides the herdbeasts, purposely avoiding looking at Rasavyth. Not that that stops Cailluneth, who eyeballs the bronze with an analytical yellow look. Eventually, N'ky finds his tongue. "I m-meant it when I s-said I'm s-still Nicky." His hold on his green tightens slightly, and she responds by curling her tail more closely about him. "Even with Cai. I'm still Nicky. B-but you..." He bites hard enough on his bottom lip for the rosiness there to turn to white, looking up to K'zin with painful sadness in his brown eyes. "Y-you're K'zin. You're a b-bronzerider. Y-you've g-got Azaylia, once you g-graduate. You're n-not going to have room for a-anyone as unimp-portant as us." His voice cracks on the last syllable, and Cailluneth makes a raspy sound of worry that's met by a soothing stroke along her 'ridges.

Rasavyth shifts, instead of being behind K'zin, looking through the fence, he moves to stand beside his lifemate, now only eight inches shorter as he sits on his hind quarters. K'zin reaches out, without needing to look to find where his lifemate sits and his hand draws up to the bronze's headknobs. Though they're not traditional in the way many of the pairs are with so much tactile contact outside of oilings, this pair seems to have an uncanny ability to know the exact position in space of the other. "I am K'zin. Just as you are N'ky. But as you say you are still Nicky, so, too, am I still Wakizian." He pauses. "After you and I talked the other night, I sat for a while with Ras. "He doesn't want me to lose who I was. The past is important. He says. It's the building blocks from which we form our current and future selves. You are changed by Cailluneth as I am changed by Rasavyth. Forever. Irrevocably. Changed. And the truth is, neither of us would give that back or trade it." He scratches at the bronze's knobs idly, and the bronze's lids flip all the way closed and he lets out a little croon of enjoyment, showing a bit of his softer self that is so rarely seen. "Cai and he are siblings, you know. Just like we are. I'm going to be a bronzerider. The same way you're going to be a greenrider. Those things cannot be changed. I don't got Azaylia. We haven't even had one date. It might go horridly and she might never want to see me again. Especially if she hears that I've been telling you about how nice I think her--" And to break the seriousness of the moment, K'zin mimes boobs, hoping for a smile. "Even if I do end up dating her, I'm still me Nick. Me with a dragon, me with one day, I hope, a girlfriend of some kind." Ras snorts. Girlfriends. "But I'm still me. And always will be. No matter what. I don't want to lose my best friend. So can't you just accept me for me? You could before Ras, why not now?" His tone is hopeful, and his free hand extends out before him, offering to clasp. Moment of truth.

The sense that Rasavyth longs to give his focus over entirely to this exchange lingers while his mind momentarily shifts is focus. There are flashes of K'zin's face, full of worry and sadness, N'ky's face, with similar expression, Cailluneth held like a large toddler, in his arms. These images are not the kind dragons show each other, and truthfully, were Rasavyth not so young, he might not leak them now, and may not even be aware that he has shown such. When his mind shifts back to the salty touch, his focus is redoubled. He seems almost surprised by the volume of water that has been released during his distraction and there are some splashes, like that of a drowning man, before the young bronze wrestles his mindscape wider to include a reflection of the ocean. « You are most intriguing, my queen. » His interest in her mind is not at all childish, but another echo of her -- interest to study, to learn. The shimmering ooze shifts in a film across the ocean water, sparkling in sunlight, and his interest tickles there, atop those waves. « Most intriguing indeed. May I ask, what is all this? My K'zin has no recollection of-- this sort of thing. » His best comparison is the Lake at High Reaches and stories filled with K'zin's own childish imaginings. (Rasavyth to Iesaryth)

Letting K'zin go on without stopping him, N'ky rests his cheek against his lifemate's neck, biting down hard on the same spot on his lip. His eyes close and he breathes in hard through flaring nostrils, before finally loosing his bottom lip, leaving an indent from his teeth all too visible there. By the time he exhales, he's ready to look at the bronze weyrling again, and he loosens his hand from Cailluneth's back to hold out his hand, pinky outstretched and the hopeful beginnings of a sheepish smile tugging, ever so gently, at the corner of his mouth. "J-just promise me," he says quietly, barely above a whisper, "that you w-won't t-try to change me... Waki. I-if I want nice gather clothes, I-I'll ask." Could that conversation between the two of them and Mave be the reason for all this?

K'zin laughs, going from hand to pinky, holding it up, though not clasping yet. "Nick, I promise I won't try to change you." Beat. "But I can't help it if you start digging my new threads and change because of me." The pinky is there for the promise-making, but he waits for N'ky, wanting to give him the option of getting out of having such a friend.

To Rasavyth, Iesaryth projects, « Perhaps the bronze is then fortunate Iesaryth is Iesaryth and not her rider; she is circumspect with such things, unlikely to pry, unlikely to tell. There is a certain sense to that - only such a dragon could hold such secrets. But prudent doesn't mean stupid either; she'll merely file all that away for future reference, whether Rasavyth notices or not. The ocean sparkles with amusement under the sun, full of buoyant seafoam to hold up the young bronze until he becomes used to the water. Fascinated with the shimmering film, she has no such issues with focusing on two things, five things, ten things at once. « I will consider that a compliment, from you. » She senses his interest, the lack of youth in his thoughts and has... some sympathy for him. But, lightly, « It is the ocean. Where I hatched, it meets the land and stretches on forever. » There are images of sand and water touching for miles in brilliant color, turquoise waters rushing beneath gliding wings, fuzzy, stolen images of the jungle in the moonlight, her Shan's low quiet laugh. »

"'Kay." That sounds good enough to N'ky, who closes the distance to lock pinky around pinky, though he does frown as he squeezes with his finger. "I d-don't want to waste marks on looking f-fancy." He unhooks his little finger, but before letting go completely he laces his fingers through his friend's, squeezing their palms tight together. "No girls, no boys, nothing. Nothing, Waki." The real ending of that is dropped, given the conscious state of certain mind-sharing beings. "One thing though," K'zin adds after the promise is made, managing a good dead-pan. "Now that I'm going to be a bronzerider... We need to work on the whole spit-and-shake thing for our promises." On the heels of that, he's grinning, clearly joking as this would violate two of the conditions of their promise immediately. He drops his hother hand away from Rasavyth, thumbs hooking into his pocket, looking much more relaxed now that that's all settled.

The whirl of Cailluneth's eyes slows and turns from yellow-green to turquoise, and she rasps roughly through N'ky's curls before he gently sets her down. "Sh-shut up," he says sheepishly, before closing the distance between them to throw his arms around K'zin in a tight hug. Tilting his head down so his lips are close to Waki's ear, he murmurs, "I don't know where your m-mouth's been to want to s-swap spit with you." Then he drops the hug, gently punches his buddy's shoulder, and steps back to where Cailluneth can lean back against his leg.

K'zin was returning the hug... until he started laughing too hard to maintain it. His body shakes as he steps back, doubling over, hands on knees. He's laughed so hard that tears have touched his eyes, so he's wiping them as he straightens up. "That's not even a good excuse. You know exactly where my mouth has been. I tell you everything." He grins at the green weyrling. Then he steps forward again and crouches slightly so he can meet Cailluneth's height. "Cai, we never got to meet properly. I'm K'zin. And your lifemate is my best-friend. He offers out his hand in a way that suggests he's offering a headknob scritch, if she's so inclined.

"Mmhrm. Th-that's the problem." Which totally contradicts what N'ky's just said, but who needs to make sense, anyway? He crouches down too, though he's still far taller than little Cailluneth. She half-stretches her wings, raising upon her hind legs and stretching her neck to be on the same level with K'zin when she turns her head to eye him, and his hand. Then, an intentionally heavy fall back to all fours butts her headknobs heavily into his palm, and she rubs against him to get his fingers in just the right spot. Right there, at the base. N'ky's a whole lot more shy about approaching Rasavyth; in fact, he keeps his hands to himself, resting them on his knees and darting a glance at the bronze.

« Duties and respects to your rider of course, » The young bronze begins politely, that charm sparkling brighter, the sparkles like snowflakes: individual, enchanting. « But I consider myself fortunate that you are you simply because you are you. » The notion of secrets which whispers into his mind has him instantly titillated, salty water frothing with excitement. It's muted as it's transmitted, but there. Perhaps in time, he will learn to hush the reaction entirely. « I am honored you would consider it as such from a young one, such as me. » This is delivered modestly, the shimmer shifting, gratified. « The ocean. » He considers, examining the image offered from all sides and filed in K'zin's mind, in turn, for reference later. « Do you go back often? Perhaps when I am grown, you might show it to me? I doubt my K'zin will wish to go to such a beautiful place with just me. » His tone speaks to his disappointment that K'zin is not more worldly. It's a frustration for now; now while he is yet too small to fix that particular problem. (Rasavyth to Iesaryth)

"That's just where Ras likes it too." K'zin comments as his fingers rub across the green hide in just the right spot, smiling. Rasavyth, still comfortable upright, not yet too heavy to manage such a feet is only a foot and change shorter than Nicky. His wings lift an resettle as the ferrier approaches. Eyes in the sharp featured face watch his movements carefully. A look is given to K'zin before there's a small huff from the bronze and of his forelimbs is offered towards the curly haired man. Cailluneth growls throatily at the rubbing; it's a happy sound, and her wings droop blissfully either side of her as she relaxes. "R-Rasavyth," N'ky says softly, smiling awkwardly at the bronze. "It's n-nice to meet you." He's not entirely sure what to do with the paw extended to him, but he treats it - hesitantly - as a handshake, pressing his palm to the underside of Rasavyth's food, curling his long fingers lightly around and giving a gentle shake. It's awkward, but N'ky gets points for effort... right? Nodding his head to the young dragon, the coltish teen stands up straight again, and rests a hand softly on his friend's shoulder. "Waki? Um... Cai's going to be hungry, soon. Do you want to come back to the barracks with me?"

« And to yours. » Again, it's polite. Manners seem to be important to her, civility to some extent. Iesaryth might be amused, again at the excitement for secrets, and for that, the depths of her waters may darken enigmatically, for all it doesn't seem in her nature to hide things - it's simply a level of respect for confidences. And the flattery, while perhaps obvious, doesn't go unnoticed either. « Youth matters little. We are as we are; all that must catch up is body to mind. » At least, she remembers it that way. « We go when we can. Mine has... strained relations with Evielth's. » The senior queen. But shock, surprise. « Why would he not want to go just to see? » There is so much to see. So much to explore, examine, to learn. « I would show you. If it is 'appropriate'. » There is a wry amused sense to that last, borrowed from her rider. (Iesaryth to Rasavyth)

Evidently the shake is exactly what Rasavyth expected to get out of the change, for the dragon lets his 'hand' rest lightly on N'ky's and moves with the shake. He rumbles to the greenrider. It's not super-enthusiastic (but then, it's easy to see that enthusiasm is something Ras uses sparingly in his interactions), but it's friendly enough. He looks to K'zin, and the man purses his lips. "I think we're going to hang for a little while. But we'll see you later, alright?" He gives Cai a final scratch before moving back over to his own lifemate, clapping one hand to the back of N'ky's shoulder briefly.

"Later. Dinner?" An invitation to join him, of course. N'ky smiles, leaning down to pick up Cailluneth once again. The tubby green curls herself around him with neck and tail, nuzzling adoringly against his ear. "Later, then." No wave, since his hands are full, but Cai croons a farewell, watching over N'ky's shoulder as he walks them off, back to the barracks.

« An excellent question, my queen. » His touch submerges in the salty water he reflects. « My K'zin lacks a desire to travel, or see the world. » His mind bobs as he tries to go deeper, managing to delve deeper into the waters with effort. « It is one of the few great mysteries I have found as yet. » For a moment the bronze's mind gasps for breath. He's only 15 days old; not so much time for him to have discovered much. « But as I cannot explain why I am as I am, I do not expect him to be able to do so either. » His mental head clears the muddling, watery thoughts with a gasp of salt air. « I hope he can be inspired to go, and see. » The sun sparkles embody his hope, bright and mercurially shifting on the water in complex patterns. (Rasavyth to Iesaryth)

K'zin lingers by the fence, his hand scratching at the bronze's headknobs, absent-mindedly. He is either unaware of the continuing exchange, being patient, or has no where else to be at this moment.

To Rasavyth, Iesaryth can only find that sad, sunny skies touched with far-off clouds. She considers Rasavyth's words, his difficulties, the whisper of the waves constant and eternal behind her thoughts. « In time, perhaps you will realize why. There are many things that I needed time to consider, to take apart, to understand. They cannot explain, but we can. Even if only to satisfy our own... curiosity. » Beneath the waves, so many fish. Some small, some large, some schools of them, some massive shadowy shapes in the dark briny depths. Too much, perhaps, for even such a clever young weyrling. « I have a sense that you will come up with something. » She has faith, in fact. And though those patterns are definitely interesting as well, there are other things to do, other issues to devote her intellect toward. The tide begins to rush out, but there's a sense of presence and similarity; she understands. « Please let me know if you wish to speak again, Rasavyth. » And she's gone, just the faint far-off roar of waves left.

Her words are taken each alone and at the same time all at once together, and for a moment there's the briefest glimpse into Rasavyth as he parses the words, examining all possible meanings with terrifying speed of understanding. He grasps far more than he lets on. Though, still being young, he catches perhaps only three-quarters of the images of what might be beneath the surface as they are shared. With a wash of a wave, that glimpse is gone, and it's back to shimmering on the surface, with his ineffable charm. « I shall, in time, I am certain. » He agrees readily enough. He is disappointed but understanding by her need to do else and be otherwise engaged. As his touch begins to wash itself of the salt, he offers in yet another side of him that comes as naturally to him as his charm, « If I were to guess, my queen, » And it is not a guess to know that Rasavyth never guesses, but knows, « I shall wish to speak again, and often, if your duties allow. » The transparent ooze sparkles, winking like snowflakes in sunlight before politely retreating to give her the space she requires. (Rasavyth to Iesaryth)

Comments

Aishani (Brieli (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 21 Mar 2013 01:45:09 GMT.

So. Much. Drama.

Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 21 Mar 2013 02:48:48 GMT.

Awwww. I'm glad those two finally got it sorted... for now.