A'son punches Jolak in the nose.
RL Date: 11/24/07
IC Date: 4/31/14
You stroll towards the lake shore.
"Oh, well, I have another volunteer, too," Persie says, waving a hand at the whole multiple-A'sons idea. "I can't imagine who would have a purple couch made, but it sounds beautiful. Purple." She's grinning again, at least until the bronzerider addresses Jolak, then her smile is gone and she's backing up a step or two from the pair of them.
"That you were looking for me and couldn't find me? Milani told me." Joe cants his head to the side, completely unaware as to what has earned him A'son's displeasure. He justifies himself quickly though, "Had you just sent me a message I would have waited for you some where. And to my credit I did look for you as well, and at ever opportunity I had you weren't around. Bad timing I guess." He seems suddenly abashed, "I've been a little distracted too, with what stuff I took from Y'ston." A pause as he looks over toward Persie again, remembering she's there, "I'm Jolak by the way. Call me Joe. Easier to remember that way," he proceeds to flash her a gentle easy going smile, and then switches attentions back toward A'son - expectant of A'son's own answer.
"Oh really? That's good." A'son's response to Persie is almost absentminded sounding. Jolak is given a smile and he takes a step forwards to the kid. "Yeah. While I was looking for you I heard all of these great things about. About some new tricks you'd learned and had been caught practicing." A few more steps and the bronzerider is quite close to him. "I'm going to say this /once/. If I hear anything and I mean anything, about you picking locks and busting into the stores I will beat you until there isn't any more of you to be seen. Got it?" There's a questioning lift of his eyebrows as he waits for a response.
N'thei arrives on the scene just in time to see Persie backing up a few steps and A'son issuing threats of beating to his little brother. His smile brightens considerably from the contemplative look he wore while walking on toward the lake, and he even whistles a short tune through his teeth; "Looks like I got here just in time for the entertainment. Skulking off, lovely, or shall we see which brother fights better?" At that, he sends around a nod of greeting to Persie, to A'son, none for Jolak.
Both of Persie's pink mittens are up to her mouth now. She doesn't look completely aghast, but her eyes are a bit wide and she blinks back and forth, A'son, Jolak, Jolak, A'son. At least until N'thei shows up - then she will very discreetly slink in his direction. "Do they do this a lot?" she asks, far to innocent to think much of N'thei's smile... yet.
Immediately Joe straightens at seeing A'son take a step toward him, senses suddenly heightened at the implied threat of that one step. His eyes widen marginally at the accusations suddenly thrown toward him by none other than his own flesh and blood. He stands his ground though, a frown forming on his features as his brows lower defensively. Then A'son proceeds to close the distance even more, forcing the kid to look up. His lips pull back into a scowl at his brother's threat. Calm natured Joe stands there with his chest heaving, his hands balling up into fists at his side, and that calm breaks. "What the shell are you talking about!?! Do you realize what you're accusing me of? You're own flesh and blood? I'd expect that of him--" the thrusts a finger in N'thei's direction, oh yeah, he knows the guys there, "--But you?" He frowns at A'son, "Who do you think you are anyways? You're not our father! So stop acting like it!" heated passion rushes through the young lad's teeth as he abruptly pushes at A'son, "Get the shells away from me. I don't need this -- from you most of all!"
"Yeah, I heard it from /him/. I heard it from an assistant headwoman too." A thumb is jerked in N'thei's direction. "They don't have any reason to make up stories about a recordskeeper." A'son is jarred back a bit by Jolak's push, which doesn't stop him from pulling his fist back and aiming to slam him straight in his nose. "No, I'm your brother! And I don't want to hear any more of these stories. I'll act like I'm your father all I want, because guess what? I'm the only thing close to a parent you have right now. Where's your mother? Not around, huh? /I'm/ the one who's here. And I'll keep you out of trouble. Stay away from locks and stay away from /him/. Got it? I've had enough." Anger flushes the man's cheeks as he takes a step away from the younger one.
N'thei answers Persie amiably, "Don't know. I've never seen it myself, but I know the little one's full of piss and vineg--" He breaks off with a brightened smile toward Jolak's accusing finger, his head cocked to a who-me? angle. When punches fly, he shakes his own fingers in sympathy pains and looks from one brother to another, openly here to spectate.
When men are all swearing and throwing punches and stuff? That's when little blonde girls hide. Which is what Persie does now, positioning herself a bit behind N'thei with her head peeked out to the side so she can still watch. A mitten reaches to take her wall's sleeve. "Are you just going to let them fight? What are they... what... what's going on?" she asks. Her eyes are huge enough that there's no way she's used to random fist-fights.
"And you believe them? You don't think he's got the assistants under his thumb?" Joe yells back in exasperation of not being heard or trusted. That shakes him worst of all, rattles him more than the connecting punch does. A smack of a fist connecting to the face of the younger brother resounds in the make-shift battle ground. Luckily, standing lower and being close in to A'son prevents A'son from striking Joe in the nose, but it's damned close as the punch takes him in the cheek bone instead. It's still such a wallop that it tumbles Joe to the ground, hair sprawled over his brow as he lands on his side, hand instantly covering the swelling red mark of flesh. Heated angry eyes look up from underneath the hand that covers the wounded flesh, his pride wounded much worse apparently as he scurries back away from A'son on the ground. A moment later the kid stands, dropping his hand away from the bruised flesh, puffy under the one eye already, his eyes showing fury at A'son, hate spite.. everything. "You stay the hell away from me--" his one arm cuts through the air, as his tone reflects his rage. Abruptly, he swivels and sprints away from the scene, before A'son could take a closer look into those rage-filled eyes of Joe's. The kid doesn't stop as he makes for the Weyr proper.
"Of course I'm going to let them fight. Or well, I would if the little one hadn't run off like that." N'thei turns slowly, not enough to make him any less of a wall between Persie and the fighting, but enough to keep Jolak in frame while he sprints across the bowl. Quietly, "Want me to go catch the little bastard and have him take his beating like a man, A'son?"
A'son crosses his arms over his chest, watching stern faced as his brother runs off into the distance. "No, I think I made the message pretty clear. He'll calm down and stop hating me eventually." There's no inclination that he's going to go chasing after Jolak. Once he's far enough away, he turns around to N'thei and Persie. He uncurls his fingers and looks at the redness on his knuckles. "Sorry, Persie. I don't normally go around punching teenager
..s at random. Promise" -Thank you cat, again.
Jolak walks away from the lake shore, back to the main bowl.
Jolak has left.
Persie inches around N'thei just a leeeettle bit more to watch Jolak run off, which just makes it easier for her to look up at the face of her wall when he offers to go chasing the kid down. Her mouth agape, it's true. "He must be..." She doesn't finish but there must be -some- excuse for the two men, both having been quite nice to her, to go beating some teenager up. She looks between the two of them and even though the immediate threat of blows is gone, she still hides behind N'thei. "Okay." What else is there to say, really.
N'thei shakes his fingers toward A'son's hand indicatively; "Dunk it in the lake. Or better, dunk this in the lake and wrap it up, keep the swelling down." The 'this' in that statement is the handkerchief he unpockets and holds toward the other bronzerider. "I'll let you know if the lovely ladies of the lower caverns report any more mysteriously unlocked doors. Though I hope you've made your point."
A'son gratefully accepts the handkerchief. It's a step or two to the lake and he dips the cloth into the cold water. "Thanks, appreciate it." Persie is given quite the apologetic look. "I hope so too. I think I can call this evening officially ruined, however. I hope you two fare better." They're both given a wave of his wet and bandaged hand as he slowly moves. From the water, Nikoth emerges after being silent this whole time to catch up with his rider.
Persie is frowning now at all that's being done for A'son's hand, a worried sort of frown instead of anything disapproving. He moves off too quickly for her to say anything, but she does wave a mitten at him. Once, he's gone, though, she takes a deep breath. "What was all that about? What-" She looks up at N'thei, maybe ready for some direction on how she should react to this sort of thing.
"They're brothers. From what I gather, their father died not long ago, and I think they're not sure where they stand with each other after all that." N'thei shrugs, impotent to better describe the situation, gray eyes fixed thoughtfully on A'son's departure. "Anyway, Jolak's been breaking into storerooms. That's all. --You all right? It was hardly even a scuffle."
"That's... that's how they're sorting it out?" Persie finds that method just a touch bewildering, but at least she's inching out from behind N'thei now that the excitement is over. "I'm fine. It's just... well, that's a whole different sort of awkward." She rubs a fluffy mitten at her nose, as much to hide her sheepish expression as anything else.
N'thei laughs mildly, eyes settled on the fluffy mittens and the nose beneath it now that he's stopped contemplating the deeper relationship between estranged brothers. "Don't worry, darling. Unless someone comes after your nose, best just to ignore it. I'll ask A'son next time to keep his disciplining a little less public next time?"
"Oh!" Persie exclaims, but not for her nose's saftey. "Oh, no. I'm okay. I mean, I just don't see people hit each other all that often. I mean, if that's..." She stops, thinks. "-Is- that... normal here?" After all, N'thei -was- telling her to brace herself. "It was just... awkward. I don't know either of them. I mean, I met A-, A'son? But only for a moment. And that was some... that was personal stuff," she decides with a crease in her brows.
N'thei waves his hand in dismissal of the previous interlude, utters a doubtful, "Meh. Not so personal. Jolak's a teenager, hot-blooded as they are, and ran off at the mouth some things he oughtn't have said. Ignore it. It's not normal, but it's not like we all live chaste and harmonious." After a very brief pause, he adds, "What are you doing out here anyway?"
Persie rubs at her nose again, this time with a sniffle for the cold. "I just wanted some air." She is decked out for the chilly spring day, bundled in a thick coat with a notable scarf around her neck and her fur-lined hood pulled up. She grins, ready enough to put the odd encounter behind her. "What are -you- doing out here?" she turns back on him.
"Actually." N'thei takes up walking now, with a swing of one shoulder to indicate that Persie's welcome to join his stroll. Not so very far away, Wyaeth can just be seen trying to take his measure against another bronze. "I was coming to have a word with A'son, but that obviously didn't happen, so it will have to wait."
Persie is quick on the uptake and turns on a heel to skip a step and catch up, her long easy stride barely matching the large man's stroll. "He's a friend of yours? He offered to help move the set-er, couch. I figure, between the two of you, we should be able to get it up to the weyr with no problem. And I cleared a path. I know right where I'm putting it." Her mittens take her scarf, swinging it this way and that as she walks. "What did, well," but abandons the question.
N'thei slows up purposefully, his stride shortened to keep from outpacing Persie two-to-one. "Not exactly friends, but we've got a lot of common interests. And if you were going to ask 'what did I want to talk to him about,' never you mind. Surprised that he agreed to move furniture with me though, or did you leave out who would be on the other end of the sofa?"
Persie grins with bright slyness as he guesses her question and tells her to bug off. "Well, I didn't mention you by name... Would he object? Do... do you object?" The walking warms her up enough that she pushes the furred hood back, giving her hair a shake to let it all free.
"No. I'm always game for getting A'son's ire up, and few things do like favors and pretty girls." N'thei adds the pretty-girls bit in clear response to the shaken hair, his smile brief but bright, gone away once he draws toward Wyaeth. The dragon gives up his occupation grudgingly. "Nice welcome party for you to the Reaches though, wasn't it? Just remember, keep your guard up." With a wink, he moves to hold Persie's mittened hands up in a pantomime of that guard, to block her chin.
Pretty girls. Persie's chin ducks down for that, hiding in her scarf. But oh she does smile, even if she does catch it with her teeth. "It wasn't that bad. And, I've been here a little while now, so it's not like it was the -first- thing I saw when I set down or anything." But with her hand held up in front of her face at his urging, she gets an impish gleam in her eye and pops a few teeny punches into the air. "Are you going to teach me how to fight next? So I don't get beat up by all your rough friends?" And despite everything, she doesn't sound at all nervous about 'rough' anybody.
N'thei holds a palm up as a target for the punches, then shakes his head in sorrowful denial. "No, sadly, I'm not. You'd need a whole different kind of fighting anyway, quick and light as you are. Besides, who'd really want to take a swing at you? In your pink mittens and little hoodie?" He steps away then, takes to buttoning his own coat; "I've some business away from the Weyr, I'm afraid. I'd hoped to bring A'son, but oh well. You have a good night, yes?"
"Well, you seem to think that I'm going to run into all sorts of trouble," Persie reminds him. But she's glancing at Wyaeth now with a bit of a sigh. "Where are you going?" Though she doesn't hold on to much hope of an answer. "Drop me off?" Her head tipped back toward the bowl, she looks between dragon and rider, a bit more toward the latter since the former has no soft spot for the strange blonde girl.
N'thei, bemused; "Drop you off? At your weyr? What, you can't rouse Secath to come and pick you up?" That thought earns Wyaeth a look of rare affection, like the bronzerider's only just realized how bad he doesn't have it, then he hauls up with absolutely no assistance from his dragon. There's no helpful crouch or thoughtfully proffered foreleg. "Reach up then, darling. We don't do things the easy way." While he leans an arm down down down to her.
"You're going up anyway," Persie says with a bit of a frown, worried that she's said something stupid again. "I mean, she'd come and all but... You guys are right here." It doesn't sound like craziness to her, at least. That the pair of them agree, however, pops that smile back to her face. She has to jump a bit to catch N'thei's arm, holding onto him as she walks her wet boots up Wyaeth's side - if he doesn't like that sort of thing, well, it's his own fault it happened. "You don't mind really, right? Where did you say you were off to?"
Wyaeth doesn't seem to mind so much, though he's impatient as sin to be suffering not one mount but two. Before Persie's even settled, he's up off his haunches and started to lumber toward a more open space. "I don't mind really. Just hold on and we'll see you safely--" N'thei says this precisely when the dragon beneath snaps his wings open and beats an ungainly rise into the air, graceless. "To your ledge." In long-suffering conclusion, he hauls Persie up behind him.
Persie clings tight as Wyaeth gets to moving so suddenly, her arms wrapping around N'thei's middle. "Woah!" Because, well, this is nothing like flying with the fat little green who, unaccomodating as she may be, takes some pride in giving a smooth ride. If she has anything more to say, and she probably does, the whipping air makes conversation rather difficult.
It's a teetery way Wyaeth gains altitude, much heavy beating of wings and hard pushing till he's up to height. Just when there might be a chance for the ride to smooth out, he's on a level with Secath's ledge and coming in for a landing-- which happens to be just as bumpy and un-fun as the flying, a sudden arrest of momentum that even N'thei, braced for it as he is, greets with gritted teeth and an unhappy grunt. "Next time, best to find your own conveyance, I think."
Secath is waiting with a haughty eye for Wyaeth and a position 'just so' as always, utterly posed. Persie's breath my catch a little but it's hard to tell if it's the ride or N'thei's suggestion that puts that frown on her lips. She unwinds her arms, "Okay," and is quick to slip down the bronze's side, landing awkwardly from the unusual height. Her smile is a touch tight as she lifts a mitten to wave. "Thanks. Have fun at your thing." She doesn't linger, but heads directly into the weyr, waving Secath along with her. Their conversation starts even before they get inside. "No, I didn't think it was a big deal. Did you? Yeah, I didn't think would you. I don't think he likes us very much. No, not you either..." And so on.
IC Date: 4/31/14
You stroll towards the lake shore.
"Oh, well, I have another volunteer, too," Persie says, waving a hand at the whole multiple-A'sons idea. "I can't imagine who would have a purple couch made, but it sounds beautiful. Purple." She's grinning again, at least until the bronzerider addresses Jolak, then her smile is gone and she's backing up a step or two from the pair of them.
"That you were looking for me and couldn't find me? Milani told me." Joe cants his head to the side, completely unaware as to what has earned him A'son's displeasure. He justifies himself quickly though, "Had you just sent me a message I would have waited for you some where. And to my credit I did look for you as well, and at ever opportunity I had you weren't around. Bad timing I guess." He seems suddenly abashed, "I've been a little distracted too, with what stuff I took from Y'ston." A pause as he looks over toward Persie again, remembering she's there, "I'm Jolak by the way. Call me Joe. Easier to remember that way," he proceeds to flash her a gentle easy going smile, and then switches attentions back toward A'son - expectant of A'son's own answer.
"Oh really? That's good." A'son's response to Persie is almost absentminded sounding. Jolak is given a smile and he takes a step forwards to the kid. "Yeah. While I was looking for you I heard all of these great things about. About some new tricks you'd learned and had been caught practicing." A few more steps and the bronzerider is quite close to him. "I'm going to say this /once/. If I hear anything and I mean anything, about you picking locks and busting into the stores I will beat you until there isn't any more of you to be seen. Got it?" There's a questioning lift of his eyebrows as he waits for a response.
N'thei arrives on the scene just in time to see Persie backing up a few steps and A'son issuing threats of beating to his little brother. His smile brightens considerably from the contemplative look he wore while walking on toward the lake, and he even whistles a short tune through his teeth; "Looks like I got here just in time for the entertainment. Skulking off, lovely, or shall we see which brother fights better?" At that, he sends around a nod of greeting to Persie, to A'son, none for Jolak.
Both of Persie's pink mittens are up to her mouth now. She doesn't look completely aghast, but her eyes are a bit wide and she blinks back and forth, A'son, Jolak, Jolak, A'son. At least until N'thei shows up - then she will very discreetly slink in his direction. "Do they do this a lot?" she asks, far to innocent to think much of N'thei's smile... yet.
Immediately Joe straightens at seeing A'son take a step toward him, senses suddenly heightened at the implied threat of that one step. His eyes widen marginally at the accusations suddenly thrown toward him by none other than his own flesh and blood. He stands his ground though, a frown forming on his features as his brows lower defensively. Then A'son proceeds to close the distance even more, forcing the kid to look up. His lips pull back into a scowl at his brother's threat. Calm natured Joe stands there with his chest heaving, his hands balling up into fists at his side, and that calm breaks. "What the shell are you talking about!?! Do you realize what you're accusing me of? You're own flesh and blood? I'd expect that of him--" the thrusts a finger in N'thei's direction, oh yeah, he knows the guys there, "--But you?" He frowns at A'son, "Who do you think you are anyways? You're not our father! So stop acting like it!" heated passion rushes through the young lad's teeth as he abruptly pushes at A'son, "Get the shells away from me. I don't need this -- from you most of all!"
"Yeah, I heard it from /him/. I heard it from an assistant headwoman too." A thumb is jerked in N'thei's direction. "They don't have any reason to make up stories about a recordskeeper." A'son is jarred back a bit by Jolak's push, which doesn't stop him from pulling his fist back and aiming to slam him straight in his nose. "No, I'm your brother! And I don't want to hear any more of these stories. I'll act like I'm your father all I want, because guess what? I'm the only thing close to a parent you have right now. Where's your mother? Not around, huh? /I'm/ the one who's here. And I'll keep you out of trouble. Stay away from locks and stay away from /him/. Got it? I've had enough." Anger flushes the man's cheeks as he takes a step away from the younger one.
N'thei answers Persie amiably, "Don't know. I've never seen it myself, but I know the little one's full of piss and vineg--" He breaks off with a brightened smile toward Jolak's accusing finger, his head cocked to a who-me? angle. When punches fly, he shakes his own fingers in sympathy pains and looks from one brother to another, openly here to spectate.
When men are all swearing and throwing punches and stuff? That's when little blonde girls hide. Which is what Persie does now, positioning herself a bit behind N'thei with her head peeked out to the side so she can still watch. A mitten reaches to take her wall's sleeve. "Are you just going to let them fight? What are they... what... what's going on?" she asks. Her eyes are huge enough that there's no way she's used to random fist-fights.
"And you believe them? You don't think he's got the assistants under his thumb?" Joe yells back in exasperation of not being heard or trusted. That shakes him worst of all, rattles him more than the connecting punch does. A smack of a fist connecting to the face of the younger brother resounds in the make-shift battle ground. Luckily, standing lower and being close in to A'son prevents A'son from striking Joe in the nose, but it's damned close as the punch takes him in the cheek bone instead. It's still such a wallop that it tumbles Joe to the ground, hair sprawled over his brow as he lands on his side, hand instantly covering the swelling red mark of flesh. Heated angry eyes look up from underneath the hand that covers the wounded flesh, his pride wounded much worse apparently as he scurries back away from A'son on the ground. A moment later the kid stands, dropping his hand away from the bruised flesh, puffy under the one eye already, his eyes showing fury at A'son, hate spite.. everything. "You stay the hell away from me--" his one arm cuts through the air, as his tone reflects his rage. Abruptly, he swivels and sprints away from the scene, before A'son could take a closer look into those rage-filled eyes of Joe's. The kid doesn't stop as he makes for the Weyr proper.
"Of course I'm going to let them fight. Or well, I would if the little one hadn't run off like that." N'thei turns slowly, not enough to make him any less of a wall between Persie and the fighting, but enough to keep Jolak in frame while he sprints across the bowl. Quietly, "Want me to go catch the little bastard and have him take his beating like a man, A'son?"
A'son crosses his arms over his chest, watching stern faced as his brother runs off into the distance. "No, I think I made the message pretty clear. He'll calm down and stop hating me eventually." There's no inclination that he's going to go chasing after Jolak. Once he's far enough away, he turns around to N'thei and Persie. He uncurls his fingers and looks at the redness on his knuckles. "Sorry, Persie. I don't normally go around punching teenager
..s at random. Promise" -Thank you cat, again.
Jolak walks away from the lake shore, back to the main bowl.
Jolak has left.
Persie inches around N'thei just a leeeettle bit more to watch Jolak run off, which just makes it easier for her to look up at the face of her wall when he offers to go chasing the kid down. Her mouth agape, it's true. "He must be..." She doesn't finish but there must be -some- excuse for the two men, both having been quite nice to her, to go beating some teenager up. She looks between the two of them and even though the immediate threat of blows is gone, she still hides behind N'thei. "Okay." What else is there to say, really.
N'thei shakes his fingers toward A'son's hand indicatively; "Dunk it in the lake. Or better, dunk this in the lake and wrap it up, keep the swelling down." The 'this' in that statement is the handkerchief he unpockets and holds toward the other bronzerider. "I'll let you know if the lovely ladies of the lower caverns report any more mysteriously unlocked doors. Though I hope you've made your point."
A'son gratefully accepts the handkerchief. It's a step or two to the lake and he dips the cloth into the cold water. "Thanks, appreciate it." Persie is given quite the apologetic look. "I hope so too. I think I can call this evening officially ruined, however. I hope you two fare better." They're both given a wave of his wet and bandaged hand as he slowly moves. From the water, Nikoth emerges after being silent this whole time to catch up with his rider.
Persie is frowning now at all that's being done for A'son's hand, a worried sort of frown instead of anything disapproving. He moves off too quickly for her to say anything, but she does wave a mitten at him. Once, he's gone, though, she takes a deep breath. "What was all that about? What-" She looks up at N'thei, maybe ready for some direction on how she should react to this sort of thing.
"They're brothers. From what I gather, their father died not long ago, and I think they're not sure where they stand with each other after all that." N'thei shrugs, impotent to better describe the situation, gray eyes fixed thoughtfully on A'son's departure. "Anyway, Jolak's been breaking into storerooms. That's all. --You all right? It was hardly even a scuffle."
"That's... that's how they're sorting it out?" Persie finds that method just a touch bewildering, but at least she's inching out from behind N'thei now that the excitement is over. "I'm fine. It's just... well, that's a whole different sort of awkward." She rubs a fluffy mitten at her nose, as much to hide her sheepish expression as anything else.
N'thei laughs mildly, eyes settled on the fluffy mittens and the nose beneath it now that he's stopped contemplating the deeper relationship between estranged brothers. "Don't worry, darling. Unless someone comes after your nose, best just to ignore it. I'll ask A'son next time to keep his disciplining a little less public next time?"
"Oh!" Persie exclaims, but not for her nose's saftey. "Oh, no. I'm okay. I mean, I just don't see people hit each other all that often. I mean, if that's..." She stops, thinks. "-Is- that... normal here?" After all, N'thei -was- telling her to brace herself. "It was just... awkward. I don't know either of them. I mean, I met A-, A'son? But only for a moment. And that was some... that was personal stuff," she decides with a crease in her brows.
N'thei waves his hand in dismissal of the previous interlude, utters a doubtful, "Meh. Not so personal. Jolak's a teenager, hot-blooded as they are, and ran off at the mouth some things he oughtn't have said. Ignore it. It's not normal, but it's not like we all live chaste and harmonious." After a very brief pause, he adds, "What are you doing out here anyway?"
Persie rubs at her nose again, this time with a sniffle for the cold. "I just wanted some air." She is decked out for the chilly spring day, bundled in a thick coat with a notable scarf around her neck and her fur-lined hood pulled up. She grins, ready enough to put the odd encounter behind her. "What are -you- doing out here?" she turns back on him.
"Actually." N'thei takes up walking now, with a swing of one shoulder to indicate that Persie's welcome to join his stroll. Not so very far away, Wyaeth can just be seen trying to take his measure against another bronze. "I was coming to have a word with A'son, but that obviously didn't happen, so it will have to wait."
Persie is quick on the uptake and turns on a heel to skip a step and catch up, her long easy stride barely matching the large man's stroll. "He's a friend of yours? He offered to help move the set-er, couch. I figure, between the two of you, we should be able to get it up to the weyr with no problem. And I cleared a path. I know right where I'm putting it." Her mittens take her scarf, swinging it this way and that as she walks. "What did, well," but abandons the question.
N'thei slows up purposefully, his stride shortened to keep from outpacing Persie two-to-one. "Not exactly friends, but we've got a lot of common interests. And if you were going to ask 'what did I want to talk to him about,' never you mind. Surprised that he agreed to move furniture with me though, or did you leave out who would be on the other end of the sofa?"
Persie grins with bright slyness as he guesses her question and tells her to bug off. "Well, I didn't mention you by name... Would he object? Do... do you object?" The walking warms her up enough that she pushes the furred hood back, giving her hair a shake to let it all free.
"No. I'm always game for getting A'son's ire up, and few things do like favors and pretty girls." N'thei adds the pretty-girls bit in clear response to the shaken hair, his smile brief but bright, gone away once he draws toward Wyaeth. The dragon gives up his occupation grudgingly. "Nice welcome party for you to the Reaches though, wasn't it? Just remember, keep your guard up." With a wink, he moves to hold Persie's mittened hands up in a pantomime of that guard, to block her chin.
Pretty girls. Persie's chin ducks down for that, hiding in her scarf. But oh she does smile, even if she does catch it with her teeth. "It wasn't that bad. And, I've been here a little while now, so it's not like it was the -first- thing I saw when I set down or anything." But with her hand held up in front of her face at his urging, she gets an impish gleam in her eye and pops a few teeny punches into the air. "Are you going to teach me how to fight next? So I don't get beat up by all your rough friends?" And despite everything, she doesn't sound at all nervous about 'rough' anybody.
N'thei holds a palm up as a target for the punches, then shakes his head in sorrowful denial. "No, sadly, I'm not. You'd need a whole different kind of fighting anyway, quick and light as you are. Besides, who'd really want to take a swing at you? In your pink mittens and little hoodie?" He steps away then, takes to buttoning his own coat; "I've some business away from the Weyr, I'm afraid. I'd hoped to bring A'son, but oh well. You have a good night, yes?"
"Well, you seem to think that I'm going to run into all sorts of trouble," Persie reminds him. But she's glancing at Wyaeth now with a bit of a sigh. "Where are you going?" Though she doesn't hold on to much hope of an answer. "Drop me off?" Her head tipped back toward the bowl, she looks between dragon and rider, a bit more toward the latter since the former has no soft spot for the strange blonde girl.
N'thei, bemused; "Drop you off? At your weyr? What, you can't rouse Secath to come and pick you up?" That thought earns Wyaeth a look of rare affection, like the bronzerider's only just realized how bad he doesn't have it, then he hauls up with absolutely no assistance from his dragon. There's no helpful crouch or thoughtfully proffered foreleg. "Reach up then, darling. We don't do things the easy way." While he leans an arm down down down to her.
"You're going up anyway," Persie says with a bit of a frown, worried that she's said something stupid again. "I mean, she'd come and all but... You guys are right here." It doesn't sound like craziness to her, at least. That the pair of them agree, however, pops that smile back to her face. She has to jump a bit to catch N'thei's arm, holding onto him as she walks her wet boots up Wyaeth's side - if he doesn't like that sort of thing, well, it's his own fault it happened. "You don't mind really, right? Where did you say you were off to?"
Wyaeth doesn't seem to mind so much, though he's impatient as sin to be suffering not one mount but two. Before Persie's even settled, he's up off his haunches and started to lumber toward a more open space. "I don't mind really. Just hold on and we'll see you safely--" N'thei says this precisely when the dragon beneath snaps his wings open and beats an ungainly rise into the air, graceless. "To your ledge." In long-suffering conclusion, he hauls Persie up behind him.
Persie clings tight as Wyaeth gets to moving so suddenly, her arms wrapping around N'thei's middle. "Woah!" Because, well, this is nothing like flying with the fat little green who, unaccomodating as she may be, takes some pride in giving a smooth ride. If she has anything more to say, and she probably does, the whipping air makes conversation rather difficult.
It's a teetery way Wyaeth gains altitude, much heavy beating of wings and hard pushing till he's up to height. Just when there might be a chance for the ride to smooth out, he's on a level with Secath's ledge and coming in for a landing-- which happens to be just as bumpy and un-fun as the flying, a sudden arrest of momentum that even N'thei, braced for it as he is, greets with gritted teeth and an unhappy grunt. "Next time, best to find your own conveyance, I think."
Secath is waiting with a haughty eye for Wyaeth and a position 'just so' as always, utterly posed. Persie's breath my catch a little but it's hard to tell if it's the ride or N'thei's suggestion that puts that frown on her lips. She unwinds her arms, "Okay," and is quick to slip down the bronze's side, landing awkwardly from the unusual height. Her smile is a touch tight as she lifts a mitten to wave. "Thanks. Have fun at your thing." She doesn't linger, but heads directly into the weyr, waving Secath along with her. Their conversation starts even before they get inside. "No, I didn't think it was a big deal. Did you? Yeah, I didn't think would you. I don't think he likes us very much. No, not you either..." And so on.