Differences
Location: Exile Beach
Time: Late morning on Day 30, Month 1, Turn 2
Players: J'lor and E'hran
Scene: Not everyone is so easily swayed by the bluerider's charm, and some continue to carry old grudges.
It's late morning, nearing into afternoon, and the wing of dragons and riders is just wrapping up the day's drills. Greens, blues, and browns peel out of formation and off to their own weyrs or other parts of the island. One blue, with an irredescent blaze along his muzzle and sides, circles in for a languid landing on the beach. His rider slides off and begins undoing the riding straps as the blue looks eagerly towards the rolling surf.
The pair already lazing about on the beach had gotten there first from the fact that they hadn't participated in the drills. Lounging on the back of the twilight bronze, E'hran angles his arms across each other with his elbows on his knees and watches the other dragons come in. Mostly, he watches the particular blue getting closer and his eyes narrow as they have other so many turns at the sight of the rider perched there. "How did it go today?" he calls hotly at the pair, while his dragon appears to be dozing, not a care in the world, "Not get anyone into any /trouble/, I hope." It's an old tune.
Once Vellath is divested of straps he bounds off into the ocean to enjoy the waves cresting against his hide. J'lor seems, at first, to have completely missed the bronzerider's comment as he busies himself removing his cap, goggles, and leather flying jacket, letting them fall onto the sand. And then he turns, expression easy and placid. "Ah, but the beauty of this place, E'hran, is that who, precisely, would we be getting into trouble *with*?" Brows lift and his head cants to the side. And then it's time for *his* old tune, "We could always use your help in drills, if you and Skolnikovth should ever care to join us."
"You could start with the man who's stealing all your little uprising friends," but this response of E'hran's was a bit more muttered as his tone falls into the sullenness so frequently heard when he bothers speaking to others. "And you should know by now, J'lor," his continues, raising his voice for this one, "that we will never join." Giving off a small huff of a noise, E'hran sits up and then slides his way down the bronze foreleg. Now that the old formalities are out of the way, he shoves his hands in his pockets and gives the old leader a side look, "Lorna... she been spending more time with you lately?"
Old arguments, old attacks. With both sides well worn by this point so that the ex-leader only shakes his head slightly with a faint half smile. "And you should know by now that such insistances will not stop me from inviting you the next time." He lowers himself onto the beach, next to his discarded jacket, his attention turned to regard Vellath playing in the water. But, at the mention of Lorna, J'lor turns his head to regard E'hran, brown brows lifting in mild surprise. "Lorna? Well, we spend a considerable amount of time together, but no more than we ever have. Why?"
"Shards and shells," E'hran grunted in annoyance before he could stop himself. A moment of shuffling in the sand follows to allow himself to compose before he returns the arced-eyebrow look, "Somewhere else she must run off to then. Humph. Doesn't matter. She only ever pestered me when we talked." But the bronzerider was never a hider of his emotions, and there's something a bit more than absent irritation there. Beside him, the bronze dragon Skolnikovth lifts his head from the sand and whuffs a breath of air at his rider. The action allows E'hran to turn his attention to glaring at his dragon so that more emotions don't leak onto his face as he watches J'lor.
J'lor sits up a little straighter, but counters the motion by letting his wrists drape over his knees. "I'm sorry...is there something the matter with Lorna?" The bluerider has no compunction about showing his own concern, writ large on his tanned and weathered face. In the water, now that Skolnikovth is awake, Vellath bugles a cordial greeting.
"No." The quick, snapped response is followed by, "Or yes. But not like that. Don't worry about it, troublemaker, it's none of your concern." E'hran puts his hand out and Skolnikovth's head is instantly underneath, rubbing back and forth until the rider gives in and does the movement himself, adding in a scratch every now and then. The bugled greeting causes the bronze to pause and let out a low rumble, neither really greeting nor insult.
"I care for Lorna a great deal. Certainly her well being is my concern." J'lor looks back out over the water as Vellath accepts the rumble and vanishes below the waves. "Tell me," the man's tenor is all calmness and light, "Does it make you feel better, hating all the rest of us?"
E'hran shoots the glare he'd been reserving for his insistent dragon to the man instead. "It makes me feel better knowing I'm not like you," he answers after the shortest pause, the flicker of a doubt, "and if you're so concerned then you should be happy to know that she's apparently stopped coming to see me. No more bad influence. You'd better go spread the good news to her-" he has to shut his mouth harshly to prevent a bitter word from escaping, then recovers, "-- father."
J'lor ahhs softly. So there's the root of it. "I'll speak to Lorna, if you'd like. She may share with me what's kept her so occupied." And then, after a moment, "Are we not alike, you and I? We both feel unjustly persecuted. We both cling to our ideals in a place that contradicts them. We both miss things and people about the mainland. Quite a lot of similarities, to be so very different."
E'hran's loud snort illustrates pretty well the way he feels about these supposed shared traits. After a moment, Skolnikovth raises his head again and lets out a similarly rude noise. "The difference is that I /was/ unjustly persecuted. Dragged down by your rotten movement." His hand whips out of his pocket in order to stab an accusing finger at the bluerider, "Look, J'lor, whatever smooth talking ways you used to convince my girl won't be workin' here, so just drop it already." The hand falls to his side and even his shoulders sag slightly. However heated the old arguments make him feel, each turn just makes him that much more tired of it all.
J'lor lifts his hands, palm up, in a sign of truce. "As you will, E'hran. As you will." He quiets as Vellath resurfaces and begins making his way back onto the sand, pausing when he's nearly out of the tide to shake himself off. "I'm only suggesting that spending so much time despising the past has done nothing to improve your present."
E'hran looks as though he might protest to the almost-order but decides against it, instead turning to watch the blue dragon moving out of the water. He's silent for so long it seems doubtful that he'll even respond at all, until he finally hisses, "Just stay out of my life, past, present, and future." It lacks the usual venom but is forced out with some other strong emotion - the one which is causing his eyebrows to dip heavily and his forehead to wrinkle. "And don't bother about Lorna. It's not like I liked it when she bothered me. I just talked because she wouldn't leave."
J'lor rises as Vellath approaches, still a little damp and smelling of sea water. "Of course," he says, settling his hands on his dragon's muzzle. And then, clearly spoken to the blue, "You itch, do you? I've still got some oil back at the weyr." Jacket, helmet, goggles, and straps are all calmly gathered up and he tilts his head to glance towards the bronzerider. "I shall endeavor to leave you to yourself," A brief pause before, "but it is a rather small island. Have a good morning, E'hran."
Skolnikovth perks his head up at the mention of oil but E'hran rolls his eyes at the dragon's behavior, "Nice try. I still getting up early to that cry /and/ catering to it." But then J'lor is speaking to him again and he gives the bluerider his attention once more, though his eyebrows still haven't stopped digging into his nose, only adding to the usual scowl afforded the other man. "Perhaps it is still salvagable, J'lor." A pause. "And... you have one, too. Or something." Grumble-grumble.
Time: Late morning on Day 30, Month 1, Turn 2
Players: J'lor and E'hran
Scene: Not everyone is so easily swayed by the bluerider's charm, and some continue to carry old grudges.
It's late morning, nearing into afternoon, and the wing of dragons and riders is just wrapping up the day's drills. Greens, blues, and browns peel out of formation and off to their own weyrs or other parts of the island. One blue, with an irredescent blaze along his muzzle and sides, circles in for a languid landing on the beach. His rider slides off and begins undoing the riding straps as the blue looks eagerly towards the rolling surf.
The pair already lazing about on the beach had gotten there first from the fact that they hadn't participated in the drills. Lounging on the back of the twilight bronze, E'hran angles his arms across each other with his elbows on his knees and watches the other dragons come in. Mostly, he watches the particular blue getting closer and his eyes narrow as they have other so many turns at the sight of the rider perched there. "How did it go today?" he calls hotly at the pair, while his dragon appears to be dozing, not a care in the world, "Not get anyone into any /trouble/, I hope." It's an old tune.
Once Vellath is divested of straps he bounds off into the ocean to enjoy the waves cresting against his hide. J'lor seems, at first, to have completely missed the bronzerider's comment as he busies himself removing his cap, goggles, and leather flying jacket, letting them fall onto the sand. And then he turns, expression easy and placid. "Ah, but the beauty of this place, E'hran, is that who, precisely, would we be getting into trouble *with*?" Brows lift and his head cants to the side. And then it's time for *his* old tune, "We could always use your help in drills, if you and Skolnikovth should ever care to join us."
"You could start with the man who's stealing all your little uprising friends," but this response of E'hran's was a bit more muttered as his tone falls into the sullenness so frequently heard when he bothers speaking to others. "And you should know by now, J'lor," his continues, raising his voice for this one, "that we will never join." Giving off a small huff of a noise, E'hran sits up and then slides his way down the bronze foreleg. Now that the old formalities are out of the way, he shoves his hands in his pockets and gives the old leader a side look, "Lorna... she been spending more time with you lately?"
Old arguments, old attacks. With both sides well worn by this point so that the ex-leader only shakes his head slightly with a faint half smile. "And you should know by now that such insistances will not stop me from inviting you the next time." He lowers himself onto the beach, next to his discarded jacket, his attention turned to regard Vellath playing in the water. But, at the mention of Lorna, J'lor turns his head to regard E'hran, brown brows lifting in mild surprise. "Lorna? Well, we spend a considerable amount of time together, but no more than we ever have. Why?"
"Shards and shells," E'hran grunted in annoyance before he could stop himself. A moment of shuffling in the sand follows to allow himself to compose before he returns the arced-eyebrow look, "Somewhere else she must run off to then. Humph. Doesn't matter. She only ever pestered me when we talked." But the bronzerider was never a hider of his emotions, and there's something a bit more than absent irritation there. Beside him, the bronze dragon Skolnikovth lifts his head from the sand and whuffs a breath of air at his rider. The action allows E'hran to turn his attention to glaring at his dragon so that more emotions don't leak onto his face as he watches J'lor.
J'lor sits up a little straighter, but counters the motion by letting his wrists drape over his knees. "I'm sorry...is there something the matter with Lorna?" The bluerider has no compunction about showing his own concern, writ large on his tanned and weathered face. In the water, now that Skolnikovth is awake, Vellath bugles a cordial greeting.
"No." The quick, snapped response is followed by, "Or yes. But not like that. Don't worry about it, troublemaker, it's none of your concern." E'hran puts his hand out and Skolnikovth's head is instantly underneath, rubbing back and forth until the rider gives in and does the movement himself, adding in a scratch every now and then. The bugled greeting causes the bronze to pause and let out a low rumble, neither really greeting nor insult.
"I care for Lorna a great deal. Certainly her well being is my concern." J'lor looks back out over the water as Vellath accepts the rumble and vanishes below the waves. "Tell me," the man's tenor is all calmness and light, "Does it make you feel better, hating all the rest of us?"
E'hran shoots the glare he'd been reserving for his insistent dragon to the man instead. "It makes me feel better knowing I'm not like you," he answers after the shortest pause, the flicker of a doubt, "and if you're so concerned then you should be happy to know that she's apparently stopped coming to see me. No more bad influence. You'd better go spread the good news to her-" he has to shut his mouth harshly to prevent a bitter word from escaping, then recovers, "-- father."
J'lor ahhs softly. So there's the root of it. "I'll speak to Lorna, if you'd like. She may share with me what's kept her so occupied." And then, after a moment, "Are we not alike, you and I? We both feel unjustly persecuted. We both cling to our ideals in a place that contradicts them. We both miss things and people about the mainland. Quite a lot of similarities, to be so very different."
E'hran's loud snort illustrates pretty well the way he feels about these supposed shared traits. After a moment, Skolnikovth raises his head again and lets out a similarly rude noise. "The difference is that I /was/ unjustly persecuted. Dragged down by your rotten movement." His hand whips out of his pocket in order to stab an accusing finger at the bluerider, "Look, J'lor, whatever smooth talking ways you used to convince my girl won't be workin' here, so just drop it already." The hand falls to his side and even his shoulders sag slightly. However heated the old arguments make him feel, each turn just makes him that much more tired of it all.
J'lor lifts his hands, palm up, in a sign of truce. "As you will, E'hran. As you will." He quiets as Vellath resurfaces and begins making his way back onto the sand, pausing when he's nearly out of the tide to shake himself off. "I'm only suggesting that spending so much time despising the past has done nothing to improve your present."
E'hran looks as though he might protest to the almost-order but decides against it, instead turning to watch the blue dragon moving out of the water. He's silent for so long it seems doubtful that he'll even respond at all, until he finally hisses, "Just stay out of my life, past, present, and future." It lacks the usual venom but is forced out with some other strong emotion - the one which is causing his eyebrows to dip heavily and his forehead to wrinkle. "And don't bother about Lorna. It's not like I liked it when she bothered me. I just talked because she wouldn't leave."
J'lor rises as Vellath approaches, still a little damp and smelling of sea water. "Of course," he says, settling his hands on his dragon's muzzle. And then, clearly spoken to the blue, "You itch, do you? I've still got some oil back at the weyr." Jacket, helmet, goggles, and straps are all calmly gathered up and he tilts his head to glance towards the bronzerider. "I shall endeavor to leave you to yourself," A brief pause before, "but it is a rather small island. Have a good morning, E'hran."
Skolnikovth perks his head up at the mention of oil but E'hran rolls his eyes at the dragon's behavior, "Nice try. I still getting up early to that cry /and/ catering to it." But then J'lor is speaking to him again and he gives the bluerider his attention once more, though his eyebrows still haven't stopped digging into his nose, only adding to the usual scowl afforded the other man. "Perhaps it is still salvagable, J'lor." A pause. "And... you have one, too. Or something." Grumble-grumble.