Logs:Educational
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| RL Date: 9 January, 2016 |
| Who: Catling, Ka'ge, Kh'tyr, Mograith, Zymadiath |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Kh'tyr catches up with a former student who's no less difficult now but has a shiny new badge knot and then tries, nobly, to keep Ka'ge from scandalizing one of the Weyr's newest, Catling. |
| Where: Commons Cavern, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 10, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'sran/Mentions, Dahlia/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions |
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>---< Commons Cavern, Fort Weyr(#573RJs$) >----------------------------------<
Spacious but not as large as the Living Cavern, the Commons serves as a
communal gathering space for the Weyr's residents. A collection of tables
and chairs are arranged around the cavern, with some tall stools tucked
under a counter carved into the eastern wall. A motley collection of
braided rugs in Fort colors are spaced through out the cavern to delineate
the arrangements of seating, while several large hangings blunt the chill
of the stone walls. Niches carved up near the cavern's ceiling hold
regularly spaced glows that are kept fresh weekly while a fire is left
perpetually lit in the hearth regardless of season, providing both warmth
and additional light. Before this hearth is arranged a large, leather sofa
and a pair of matching armchairs. Many residents settle here to work,
study, or socialize at different times of the day, though it tends to be
most active in the early evening.
The Commons also serves as a hub to reach other parts of the Weyr: the
Nursery is located across from entrance to the Resident's Quarters and the
corridor to the Workrooms, with the Lavatory situated between the two. The
Candidates' Barracks and the Classroom bracket the archway leading back
out to the Inner Caverns. The Commons Cavern is fairly busy this late afternoon, weyrfolk scattered about the tables and chairs engaged in a variety of tasks. It's as busy as a thoroughfare with people moving briskly or more leisurely to the various places down the off-shoot tunnels. Kh'tyr's path brings him from the direction of the crafters' workrooms and sees him pausing in the line of traffic as he looks over a page gripped in both hands. It's not a good spot to stand, particularly when distracted, but there it is. It doesn't seem to bother Kh'tyr one bit. Everyone else can just go around. (Or not.) Ka'ge has a number of items on him, wherever his end goal is here. A couple of bound scrolls are tucked under one arm, his head covered in his typical hood is tilted down as he works without hurry to wind a cord around another that he'd been grazing over before coming into the more bustling hub of the commons. This area not really a place to be terribly distracted and move without running into people, of course. Blue-green eyes look up from below darker brows as his path finds someone directly in the way of it. And with a group of residents, giggling and in about as much a hurry as he was, move the other way, the young bronzerider is forced to wait at Kh'tyr's side. "Choice spot, man." The sarcastic compliment is not so low as to be mumbled, plenty loud enough to be heard by him- and those nearby. Kh'tyr must have a good memory, really, and it's probably been proven before that he does because he doesn't look up as he replies first, "Hold-" instruction for the bronzerider to not interrupt, and only then, "Didn't I tell you once if I wanted your opinion I'd tell you what it was?" He probably did, if not seriously. Still, brows arch in a mock of seriousness as Kh'tyr turns his head to look at the young man. "Or is it just that you still haven't learned how much more people like you when you just keep your mouth shut?" Ka'ge's upturned look at Kh'tyr pauses in the moment he's put on hold, even his gloved fingers hesitating mid-final-twist on the hide he was binding. "Fairly certain most people don't like me even if with it closed." He returns, watching him straighter with a look of equal parts sarcasm, amusement and annoyance. "Sir." He corrects, elongating the word, perhaps in balance of what comes after. "If you wouldn't mind moving your ass out of the way, so the rest of the Weyr could pass." Because it's that big, of course. It would almost sound like he has manners, save the word choice. "Well, you have always had that special something." Kh'tyr quips back to the bronzerider, dismissive. "You know, I think I've spontaneously lost the use of my legs for anything more than staying in your way, though I suppose they might miraculously gain back some measure of control to kick you in the ass once you squeeze by." Here, he's the bigger dick. Or he's got the bigger dick. One of those. Then he gestures toward the tables, out of the flow of traffic and then heads that way himself. It's part invitation and perhaps part order to have Ka'ge joining him, however briefly. He lets the bronzerider proceed him even, asking, "New wing badge." It's not technically a question, and yet it requires an answer. "A pity. Old age catching up with you, limbs barely working." Ka'ge drawls with a feigned sadness that's skewed by the hint of a grin he's got. After finishing the tie and shoving the hide up under the crook of his arm with the rest of them, Kh'tyr's gesturing is noticed- and earns a sigh. But it must not be too big of a problem, since he follows without further remark. There's a glance over his shoulder and then back, leaning on a chair instead of sitting in it. "Something you said must've stuck, though I can't say I heard most of the things that fell out of your mouth." That, likely very untrue. "N'rov's new wing, Onyx. He's been around, recruiting." Is a touch more serious, and at least straight forward. And maybe a question in there somewhere- had Kh'tyr heard of it yet? "Respect your elders," is all the first gets in response. If they were in a different position, Kh'tyr would probably smack Ka'ge for good measure, like the days of weyrlinghood training when outside of formal training, the brownrider would knit together some self-defense lessons into other things to keep Ka'ge too busy to be Ka'ge hmphs a minimal laughs of sorts, but there is some sort of respect in the young man in regards to the brownrider, at least more than he displays in the face of most men. The bit of posturing subsiding, but not gone, "Depends on the importance." Of what would get through to him. "Aye, it was unexpected." The recruitment from N'rov, "It's.. busier. Keeping me out of trouble and all that." Maybe. Unlikely. He's amused by it, regardless. "Not my... flavor of wingmates so far." Does he even have a type? Does he get along with anyone? He scratches the stubble under his chin, thoughtful. "But nothing particularly fantastic comes of things that aren't rough around the edges to start, eh?" That's awfully optimistic of him, but knowing him, he certainly doesn't it mean it as it's stated. Kh'tyr makes a disbelieving noise in answer to the matter of importance-penetration relationship. The rest he takes more seriously. "You'd be an idiot not to try a little harder than your usual miserable effort to get along with them or to make them your type. Do you know how many not even a turn since weyrlinghood riders get recruited into a Weyrleader's wing?" He lifts his brows at Ka'ge. He probably does expect him not to realize that this is a Big Deal. "Don't be an idiot. Plenty of things are good when they start and good when they end. Diamonds in the rough is something the jewelers from Smith will tell you to make a quick buck on a big gem that only needs a little smoothing and cutting to be made worthwhile. It's not likely that you'll ever become smooth or let yourself be cut into some particularly pretty mold, so don't waste your time with that wherryshit." Words of wisdom to live by, kids. "Maybe he just likes my face." Ka'ge says with a half-hearted little shrug, belittling the subject following being called out on it. Kh'tyr caught him on that one- he'd probably given it little thought before. "Got a dashingly handsome enough mold on my own." He spreads his free hand outwards in a vague shrug-like gesture, "But-" Is back on the actual topic, "I'm trying my very best to play nice." His tone only claims faint sarcasm, more prominent tiredness in his voice describing what must be an earnest effort more than his words do. Since, well, when have his words ever been something to hang a hat on? "Sounds like you got some experience in that." He tips his head at him, trying to turn the focus, "I imagine you were that round peg tryin' real hard to get into a square hole." "Maybe if you didn't act like a condescending little shit and call it 'playing nice' you'd have better luck doing it." This isn't Kh'tyr mean, though, this is Kh'tyr candid. "And women don't like it when you point out how dashingly handsome you are." The way he touches a finger to the side of his nose might indicate that he's learned by way of pain that particular lesson. For the last, he has an impassive study of Ka'ge, and then a too casual, "Don't see a weyrlingmaster's knot on my shoulder, do you." Round peg. Square hole. The first earns a glance away, as if annoyed by the sentiment but, true as it may be, he has no comeback for it. "I thought women liked honesty." Ka'ge rolls his eyes with this, and corrects it himself after only very short re-consideration, "Or, I suppose, whatever honesty they want to hear." When Kh'tyr points out the latter, his eyes do stray briefly down to the man's shoulder as if he hadn't been more observant before. "You got me through it." Is probably the most credit the young bronzerider would ever give, "Did I give you too many nightmares to want to handle a big boy knot?" Kh'tyr smiles briefly; he always loves it when Ka'ge has no comeback. Point for Kh'tyr. "There's honesty and there's alarmingly skewed arrogance, I've always had trouble finding the line between the two," as if it were so narrow, "Perhaps you'll have better luck." There's a long impassive look for Ka'ge about the last, shifting where he stands towards the tables, out of the line of traffic speaking to the bronzerider, the paper in his own hands all but forgotten. "I fought tooth and nail, smartass," not a compliment, "just so happens that the only person as good as me at this job on the face of Pern happened to tag along with Weyrwoman Mirinda." He flares his eyes a little bit as if that might add some mystery to the goldrider. "And she fought tooth and nail and claw for it. She had attributes I didn't. It wasn't a fair fight." And let it never be said that Kh'tyr is a graceful loser, at least among his friends of which Ka'ge probably numbers in an odd way. Catling happens on by at this moment, and she pauses to offer a little curtsey to Kh'tyr and Ka'ge, her skirt briefly touching the ground. She's in new boots this time, and she's carrying steaming mug with her. Her hair is a fine mess, still braided but doing all it can to escape, and she has a faint smile on her lips. Or, rather, had, for the girl flushes and looks down as she sees the two riders. "Hardly." Comes of finding better luck, another shrug passively dismissive of it, "Truth is as much one believes it to be." There's a sourness to that, but it's forgotten in what follows. "No good fight is fair." Ka'ge says, quieter but plenty serious, now watching Kh'tyr with a less assholeish manner and more an observant one. "Attributes, or connections? Same difference in most rings, I suppose." His tone's uncaring, but his interest is plenty there. "You gonna stay where you are, then? Learn to.. play nice?" He can't help but let some of his smirk back ont othe edge of his lips. But that's when his blue-green eyes stray to Catling as she approaches and curtsies. There's a tip of the hooded rider's head, in recognition, though his eyes- partially shaded, partially covered- stray down over her- a flicker, nothing more. "G'day." Kh'tyr's brown gaze is drawn to the young woman with her curtsey. The not-as-assholeish-as-he-was-moments-before bronzerider will have to wait. "Catling," he greets her with a little lift of brows, briefly taking in the boots along with the rest of her. "Settling well?" It's asked before he reaches over to try to grab the tip of Ka'ge's hood and yank it enough so it falls back, "What did I tell you about wearing that stupid thing inside." Whatever it was, clearly Ka'ge didn't listen. Manners. "Ka'ge, this is Catling. She's relatively new to our Weyr," his tone roughly translates that to: don't be an asshole. "Catling," he begins the opposite introduction, "this is Ka'ge, rider of bronze Zymadiath. You slap him if you think you have cause. If you've cause for more than that, you let me know and I'll see to it." The way he glances to Ka'ge with a briefly challenging look says he's completely serious. (Almost.) "Hello, Rider Ka'ge, and my duty to Zymadiath. And hello sir," she adds to Kh'tyr. My duty to Mograith. I hope he is doing well?" There is a flicker of shy amusement in her eyes, and her mouth twitches in an almost-grin until she looks down again. Just a moment, and then she clears her throat. "Is there any reason that I should need to slap Rider Ka'ge, sir? I can't say I've done much slapping in my life." Then, with an air of great daring, she adds, "I might have to practice, first." "Buzz off." It's grumbly, this not-really-an-attempt to dodge that doesn't keep Ka'ge's hood from getting grabbed and yanked off, landing askew in a rumple of fabric over a shoulder. This, something that's clearly happened between the two before. His free hand comes up to shove Kh'tyr's arm away from him if he isn't quick enough to take it back after the deed's done. "I can have manners with it just like it is." Can, probably won't. That aside, he seems to manage a half-smile for the new-ish resident. His introduction already given for him instead of by him- surely a slight annoyance by the flicker of expression it had earned, "Catling, a pleasure." Sweet, his words. Charming, in an eerie way with the rough depth of his voice. "No need at all. I assure you there's little to worry of in my presence. But Kh'tyr is great for teaching. I'm sure you if need, he'd be of great mind to help you with that. And probably would earn it in the same breath." A beat, a breathy chuckle, before he adds, with only minimal sarcastic edge, "And how is your stay so far? Finding enough entertainment?" Oh, but Kh'tyr is fast, vexingly so, and no less this time. He smirks at Ka'ge. "If I'm to teach," he drawls, looking at the bronzerider, "then I'm going to need a dummy for her to practice on." His look is plainly suggestive of who qualifies for that position. Still, that not withstanding, he looks back to Catling, "I'm sure people find a wide variety of reasons to want to slap Ka'ge," want is a little different than need, of course, "I never fail to find some." He smiles just a little for the young woman. "Mograith is still an asshole but is pleased by the attention. I'll ask you not to do it again, it'll make him intolerable." It's hard to say if that's a genuine request or not. "Hrmmm...." Catling looks the young bronzerider up and down. "Was this one of the difficulties you warned me against in our last meeting, Assistant Weyrlingmaster?" She tilts her head up at Ka'ge, then smiles affably enough. "The Weyr is still a strange place to me, but the bed is softer and the work less taxing than it was at my father's hold." She shrugs her shoulders, then adds, "Thank you for asking." Then she looks back at Kh'tyr. "I thought he was already intolerable," she murmurs. The swing misses, and Ka'ge shifts slightly after, readjusting the scrolls that were upset in the shuffling. "Talk about intolerable." He comments, but Catling's words draw a grin that stretches lopsidedly across his face, "A wide variety of misunderstandings, I promise." His free hand presses a palm against his chest, as if just the thought of it physically harms him. "He has such a way of exaggerating. Overcompensating for something, if you ask me." Not that anyone did, but that clearly doesn't matter. The question of difficulties lends to a brief glance at Kh'tyr, but her gratitude returns his too-amused attention back to her, "Of course." "I have had exposure an awfully long time," Kh'tyr comments to Ka'ge before explaining to Catling with (intolerable) magnanimous patience, "There are degrees of intolerability with him, you see. There's intolerable, and there's intolerable." As if that should clear things up perfectly. He's an excellent teacher; why shouldn't it? "A knot. I'm overcompensating for a knot. Or a dragon color. Or perhaps just my missing manhood. Who can say? The list of things I need to compensate for just goes on and on," and his look is appropriately dramatic. The girl laughs softly, shaking her head again. "Pardon me, but you both sound like a couple of wherries arguing over food. It is.... instructive." She takes a sip from her cup, then shakes her head again. "Yeah, you are incredibly old. Not many can compete with that kind of ancient talent." Ka'ge shrugs as he leans forwards a touch, as if forfiting such a futile battle. And when Kh'tyr goes into detail about all those things he may be overcompensating for, the bronzerider most definitely doesn't disagree. Instead, he gestures slightly in Kh'tyr's direction in a 'See?' motion to Catling. "If this is instructive to you, just you wait, sweetheart." It's not suggestive, as much as a neutral name. "So what do you do here, anyway? Any talents of your own?" "Ah, yes, that too. Compensating for lost youth and beauty, I'm so old I'd quite forgotten I'm not nearly so pretty as you," Ka'ge, he's talking to you. Kh'tyr flashes a 'that all you got?' look to the younger man. His eyes turn back to Catling and he studies her anew. "I thought you were only bold during gold flights, little Catling," a lift of a single brow suggests he might have been wrong, though it's hard to say from his expression whether he approves of this change in behavior or not. "I..." The girl ducks her head. "Forgive me. I..." She hunches her shoulders, almost as if she expects to be struck. Then, slowly, she masters herself and looks up. "If I have offended, please forgive me, sir. I've been told that I oughtn't to be so timid... but I'm not so very good at.... well." She backs up a couple of steps. "But that flight... oh, that flight." She shakes herself. "I... ermm... never knew sex was so.... loud. Or so.... sweaty. I took refuge in my bed and a couple came in and used the next bunk without noticing me." "I know." Ka'ge is blunt in this, about his 'prettiness', a shake of his head in accepting Kh'tyr's words as fact. "It's a pity." It's intoned sadly, "Even the haze of flights doesn't make up for it for you now." The sadness dries up into a hardness at the tail-end of that accepted challenge. But the abrupt change in Catling and the apology lays his observation on her again, this time with a single heavy brow raised, curious. "Lack of privacy ain't something you're gonna get away from here. Better to jump in." There's maybe a more mischievous edge to his grin as he continues, a bit of pressure obvious in the way he speaks to her. "Just like a cold bath. Best to take it all off and go for it. "It suits you," Kh'tyr's words to Catling is interrupted by Ka'ge's and the necessity of lifting a hand behind the bronzerider to slap the back of his head. It's done so casually and in a way that is meant to draw attention, not to actually hurt. "Ka'ge, what did I teach you about appropriate behavior to pretty young women? Not this, surely," there's something that borders on dangerous in the way he looks at the male teenager, his hand lingering raised as if he might need to repeat the 'reminder.' To Catling, "I'm sorry that that happened to you. Flights are quite the education experience. Fortunately for you, both of our golds are recently risen, so it should be turns before you see its like again, unless you end up in another Weyr at the wrong time." There's a slight eyeroll for whatever personal experience he has with that. "Thanks to you, I wasn't wholly unprepared for the.... coupling, sir," answers Catling. She lifts her head, flushing slightly, but some of the shyness seems to fade. She looks at Ka'ge, and her brow furrows. "Is that an offer, bronzerider?" Her voice softens to an almost-demure tone, made harder by a certain coolness. Then she smiles at Kh'tyr. "I have endured far worse. Once I understood, it was at least nice to know they were enjoying each others' company. I'm more glad that you.... don't have to endure numbwit holder-girl questions during a flight for a long time." Ka'ge's reaction may be a little exaggerated by annoyance when he gets clapped in the back of the head. "Bastard." Growled in time with his short-lived grimace fading. A gloved hand rises to use his fingers to comb black hair back into place. Because it's surely messed up after that unnecessary reminder. "Yeah, educational." He has to add to that, almost deadpan, unamused suddenly and not in-obviously shifting a shoulder to be in what could be better striking range in anticipation for its reoccurance. "And plenty of people willing to be educational in the interims when they're not flying." Catling's question gets a non-personal wink, "You're cute when when you get some guts to you." Is not an answer, of course. "Endured worse? As in having to talk to this guy for more than a few seconds?" "For Faranth's sake. If you two are going to make googoo eyes at each other, I'm leaving." Kh'tyr declares lifting the paper in his hands and folding it as if that somehow emphasizes his point and then tucks it into his pocket. He holds up to fingers to Ka'ge when he compliments Catling: second strike. "Catling," he informs the bronzerider, "spent much of the flight with myself and the weyrlings at the lakeshore. More delightful, surely, than your tragic loss." He stops there, but chances are good that the man knows things that could wound more than just an oblique reference to flight loss, given who it was that was flying that day. Catling blinks, then looks up at Ka'ge. "Tell me, bronzerider, did you have to Impress one of the bigger dragons just in order to be able to carry your ego along with yourself?" She sets down her cup and folds her arms. Then she glances at kh'tyr. "I'm naive, sir. But I'm not planning on making goo-goo eyes at *him*. And if there were a flight, well.... I would shut my eyes first." "If you can't handle mine, best you never meet him." Said of his dragon and their egos, his crooked smirk dry in the light of Catling's return. There's a side glance given at the warning count. And although his grin lingers, there's a twitch of the edge of it, a fade of its amusement at Kh'tyr's reference. It's subtle, but it's there. Did Kh'tyr really get under his skin so easily? He rocks forwards on his heels, standing from his lean against the chair as if preparing to leave them both. "I think that's a damn good toss up. Losing a flight or being stuck away from one with you as company." The sarcasm is more obvious, more frank, and when Catling mentions shutting her eyes, he gives her a pained look, a finger brushing under an eye as if wiping away a tear. Kh'tyr moves his hand away from it's poised position and instead claps it down on Ka'ge's shoulder, giving a light squeeze. "There'll be other flights, tell Zymadiath. Other golds. And catching your first gold flight with all the responsibility of eggs and-- well, other consequences is not really the greatest of experiences." For a man who's so full of shit, he says this much with surprising candor and the ring of personal experience. "You'd never get stuck with me for company during a flight. You're not my type, son." He adds that last wholly on purpose before he removes his hand, looking to Catling. "See that you do. Wouldn't want you to have to watch his ugly mug the whole while through. And browns do well with the burden of ego just as well. Greens and blues, too, depending on the dragon. They take all types here, don't you go heeding everything you hear about this color or that one, girl." That seems to be genuine advice, too. Two in one moment, he's probably getting senile. "From what I've seen, dragonriders are people. Just people. Except people... willing to live and die for all the rest." Catling shakes her head. "And I've known many who dreamed of having a dragon of their own, to be riders...." She sighs. "And I suppose it's wonderful in its own way. But..." She frowns slightly. "So many dragons, and so few golds to catch. And then...." She looks at the pair of them. "I suppose in many ways you're less free than anyone." Ka'ge exhales before shrugging off Kh'tyr's hand, adjusting his heavy black flight jacket in turn. But just those moments of allowance of letting it stay must be significant- even if he couldn't let it stay. "Yeah, yeah." He's heard it before. Thick head or just numb ears, good advice still gets waved off. "Good." Follows the next thing, of getting stuck with him. "Do you even have a type that don't run?" Away from him, he means. Catling's description gets a slowly regenerating grin and shake of his head, as Ka'ge starts moving stepping beside and past her. "Not everyone is so.." He searches for the word, walking backwards slowly- expecting people to move for him as he does so, "Willing. Free, not free. Depends on your definition. Depends what you want." And then with a breathy, muffled laugh, "Don't forget about the greens." "A life of dragonriding is a life of duty and service. But you may determine how you do that service, to some degree." Kh'tyr says this to Catling decisively; it's likely something he's said a number of times before, certainly more than once to Ka'ge. "It used to be that we lived and died for the rest, nowadays things are different. Life without Thread, for the time being, and the foreseeable future." He has a briefly far away look before rolling his eyes. That might've been Mograith or his own need to say, "If you do catch a gold, then you've got to deal with her rider, and the eggs, and the candidates and it goes on and on. Really, you should pity A'sran and Leczuth. Faranth forbid he--" there's a quick hiccup of words where he elects not to say something. "Well, anyway," is quick and poor cover for whatever that was. "What I want?" Ka'ge tilts her head a little. "What I want. You know... I can't say I ever thought about what I want. Most of my life's been about doing what I was told and then about survival." She shakes her head slowly. "So." She looks thoughtfully at Ka'ge. "You're more charming and appealing when you're not trying to be, you know," she tells him. And then she glances at the assistand weyrlingmaster, her expression curious and thoughtful. "Well.. here's your chance." Ka'ge answers Catling, blunt of course. There's an amused sound at her 'compliment,' the expected knowing smirk to come with it. But then he's got a hand up, a sort-of salute that never reaches his forehead that's supposedly meant as a farewell. And after, already a couple of strides away, he adds on the note of flights and their consequences, "Dealing with the rider is the worst part." That would be it, then turned and gone, swallowed by the crowds further into the commons and some tunnel beyond. "Goo. Goo. Eyes." Kh'tyr reminds firmly, wiggling two fingers (again), this time at Catling: second strike. "Don't encourage him. You already remarked, quite accurately, on his ego," he points out unapologetically. He lifts his fingers in answer of the mock salute with a sloppy one after the bronzerider. "Ass," is his personal comment in the wake of Ka'ge's departure. To Zymadiath, Mograith stretches. He purrs. There's the soft feel of snuggly, cuddly, totally-a-trap fur that sizzles and sparks a little as he mentally turns. « Mmm. Kh'tyr would like me to tell you something to tell Ka'ge. » There's the familiar feel of a cheshire smile. "I think you like that word," murmurs Catling. She watches after Ka'ge a few moments, then shakes her head. "Besides, he's not my type. Mind... I'm not sure what exactly my type is.... but he is.... not it." Then she clears her throat and steps a little closer. "What did he mean about the greens?" "What's not to like?" Kh'tyr asks, "It is a rather fun word and I do have a propensity for liking fun words. Ask--" he snaps his fingers a few times as if trying to remember, but then, "no, I never got her name. Some blonde. Not from here. Not from Igen either." He frowns a little as if he's having trouble placing her, but then he shrugs, dismissing it. "I wouldn't blame you a stitch for steering clear, but he's not my type either." As was already said but seems to bear repeating. "He was simply mentioning that greens rise one to four times a turn to mate. No eggs, but the riders involved in the chase get fairly lusty even if those not directly involved in the flight are spared those sorts of feelings. It's only the golds that take everyone along for the rider. Sharding show offs." He snorts derisively. There's darkness and then there's Zymadiath. Dark on dark, figments churn and writhe of their own accord. Steady, rhythmic. First only on the horizon of the mind, then ebbing more to the forefront as cheshire smile of the familiar brown draws to attention eyeless sockets of indistinct somethings. « We listen. » The gravelly, low voice is impartial, for now. (To Mograith from Zymadiath) The light sparks brilliantly, just to spite the darkness. White spits and brightens the world with its obscene radiance. « Good, » Mograith purrs. There's a pause. Then-- nothing. (To Zymadiath from Mograith) The night remains stagnant, despite the spitefulness of the light in the face of the immensity of his darkness. The blackness, bolder, waits. Waits. The nightmarish dance of his ghosts continue with patience. But eventually, those eyeless holes close partly- suggestive of annoyed narrowing if they had faces to hold them. « Is your memory so poor that you forget already? » (To Mograith from Zymadiath) "I *was* about to tell him, earlier, that I spent that flight with you and your asshole, but caught myself in time." Catling laughs softly, then ducks her head. "I don't want anyone, you know, getting the wrong idea. You've been very nice to me... hrm, not that I've mentioned so, but in return I thought I owe you that kindness..." The light grins. Like an asshole. (To Zymadiath from Mograith) Kh'tyr chokes on nothing. At least he doesn't splutter though, so there's that. Neater, just choking, and then coughing. "I appreciate your consideration," comes dryly in its wake. "A phrase like that could go any number of terrifying ways in the mind of an idiotic teen boy." No doubt. There's a sway in the smokey edges of the arrogant darkness as figments degrade to nothing more- a sensation of a sigh. (To Mograith from Zymadiath) "That's what friends are for," answers Catling. "Protecting each other from idiotic teen boys." Her lips twitch, and then she holds out her cup. "Here. Have a sip. Will help with the coughing..." She watches him a long moment. "Among other things," Kh'tyr answers, again, dryly, though a hand lifts to wave off her offer of the cup. "Thank you, girl, but I'll survive. I ought to get on my way." He hesitates though a moment, looking at the passing people rather than the girl he asks "You'll let me know if you need something?" Perhaps that's what friends are for, too. "I... Yes, I will. Thsnk you." Catling inclines her head, smiling again. She pauses a moment, not quite sure what to say. So she just lifts up her cup in salutre, then looks away. Kh'tyr has only a nod in answer before he chooses to pick his moment to step into the flow of foot traffic and head out. |
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