The Ferocious Dragon
The enemy of my enemy is my friend. ~Arabic and/or Chinese Proverb
OOC Date: October 15, 2009
IC Date: Day 12, month 13, turn 20 of Interval 10.
Where: Outside the Healer Hall
Who: Gabrion, P'ax, Yyth, NPC-Firistan
Gabrion had been lurking in the dormitory, waiting, when someone brought him word that a rider from High Reaches was here for him. Since he was all packed up already, it's not too long before he emerges from the hall carrying his belongings - one large and lumpy sack, and another much smaller satchel that is quite heavy for its size. He approaches P'ax and Yyth and greets the dragonrider with a polite tilt of his head. "Hello, greenrider," he says quietly. "I'm Gabrion. Thank you for coming."
P'ax is lounging against Yyth's side, waiting patiently for Gabrion to appear. When the small lad does, he tips his head in return. "Gabrion? Alright then. I'm P'ax, this is Yyth. Watch her head, she bites." The corner of his thin mouth curves, so either he's joking, or she really does and he thinks it's pretty funny. "Can I help you with your things?" He indicates the ex-apprentice's meager belongings.
There is nothing soft or kind about the face of this young man. He has a long, thin face and a somewhat fleshy nose. The most significant thing about him are his penetrating, cold blue eyes. Thin lips complete the planes of his face, the upper extended wider than the lower and slightly fuller to give him the appearance of a perpetual scowl that can only be countered through great effort. His hair was probably once a light brown but has bleached to a dark blond and even lighter in places, kept longer than is strictly necessary with a tendancy towards very messy.
P'ax can only be described as long and lanky, his height accentuated by his lack of spare flesh. His shoulders have finally begun to fill out into their full potential, along with the ropey cords of muscle the stand out, making him look powerful in a more graceful way than bulk would. His height only lends credence to the more intimidating parts of him, all 6'3" of him handled nicely now that he's grown into it.
He wears a white button-down, rolled up to his elbows, and gray wherhide pants. His boots are servicable, if well used. Pulled firmly down over his head is a knitted cap with a stiff brim the sticks out over his eyes. A wide belt is fastened around his lean hips, holding a belt knife, a soft wherhide pouch, and what is unmistakably a long finger bone from some animal dangling like a charm. On his shoulder is the knot of a greenrider from High Reaches Weyr.
Gabrion glances at the green and smiles. "Hello, Yyth," he says. "Thank you for coming, too." He's easy enough that he seems to be accustomed to dragons, and he smirks at the comment about her biting, taking it for a joke. "P'ax," he says, very polite. "Well met. And yes, please, if you would." He holds out the larger of the two bags to the rider. "It would probably be easiest if this were loaded onto the harness. But do you think it would be better for me to hold this one?" He gestures with the smaller satchel. Some other people come out of the healer hall, and one tall boy is running toward where Gabrion and P'ax and Yyth are standing. The others, a handful of older boys, remain near the doorway, watching.
P'ax was not joking, but since the ugly, lanky green is taking the ignore the passenger approach, her rider is free to reach out for the larger sack. "Does it have anything breakable in it? If there is, then probably. If not, I can strap it in here." The bag is fastened in and he waits on Gabrion's decision. Yyth's head swivels towards the gathering of boys, and P'ax's attention draws that way after another second. "Friends of yours?"
"Yes, I'll hold it then, thank you," Gabrion says. At the question, he looks around, and his expression changes from formal politeness to an inscrutable mix of apprehension, resignation, and... something else. The running boy calls out, "Gabe! What, you were just going to up and leave without even saying goodbye?" Still clutching his satchel, Gabrion sighs a bit before answering. "You knew I was going. You were in class. I couldn't keep a dragonrider waiting." To P'ax, since he asked, he says, "This is my friend Firistan. Firistan, this is P'ax and his green is Yyth." He does not answer the question with reference to the other boys, one of whom is now pointing and saying something to the rest. But they're too far away for their conversation to be heard.
P'ax doesn't really seem the sort inclined to smile at just anyone or for any reason. Firistan, therefore, gets none such social nicities. Instead, the greenrider shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Take your time if you want to say goodbye. The weather's crap up at the Weyr anyway, so I'm in no rush." Which more or less drops Gabe right back on the hook with his buddy, it would seem. Yyth, it would seem, is way more interested in whispery, pointy onlookers, fixing them all with one beady eye and shifting her weight like she might move towards them.
Firistan is not about to let Gabe off said hook, either. "Well yeah, but you could have at least stuck your head in. Look, I know you're upset, but... you're coming back, right? I mean you'll take a few weeks off, or a month or two, or whatever, but then you're coming back. Right?" Gabrion just looks at him with raised eyebrows, looks pointedly at the boys clustered by the hall entrance - they're now laughing at something - and then looks back at his friend again. Firistan turns his head to see where Gabe was looking, and frowns. "You can't let them..." but Gabe interrupts him. "Look, just leave it. I'll write you, okay? I mean, who knows what will happen." He holds out his hand. It's suspended there in the air for a long moment before Firistan takes it. Gabe gives him a small and rueful smile, then turns back to P'ax and says, "I'm ready to go now, I think, if you are, rider." The mask of politeness is back on.
P'ax does a good job to pretend he's not listening to the two boys talk, double-checking Yyth's straps. Her head sways for a moment and then she gusts out a sigh at about the same time P'ax murmurs firmly, "No, Yyth." Turning back to Gabrion he nods his head. "She offered to eat those boys ever there, so yes, I think we should." Be going, that is. With another beleagued sigh the big green lowers herself to the ground, laying her head against the stone courtyard to allow rider and passenger an easier time up onto her neck. P'ax swings up and offers his hand down to Gabrion, eyes on Firistan with just the vaguest sparkle of curiousity in their stormy depths.
Gabrion blinks in surprise, and there's a hint of appreciation for the offer on his face. "I wish someone would," he mutters, very quietly. Firistan has retreated to a safe distance from which to watch the dragon take off, so probably hasn't heard him, but P'ax might have. He waits for the greenrider to get settled, then takes his hand and makes use of that assistance to pull himself aboard. He knows how to mount a dragon: clearly, he's done this before many times. He even knows how to strap himself in. Once that's done, he gives Firistan a stoic smile and a wave, then clutches his satchel tightly in both hands as the other boy waves back.
There's a flutter of those lips again that might be a wry smile. "Hold on," P'ax warns once he's sure Gabrion is strapped in properly and himself as well. Rather than taking off, Yyth's head swivels and she charges the boys with a shrill, high roar. The momentum of that ungainly run is pushed into her leap upwards, wings catching. P'ax? He just laughs while the green climbs higher. "I was an apprentice once," he explains, half turning so that his voice will carry without the wind snatching it away. "I know exactly their type."
There are startled shouts and even one terrified shriek, and all but one of the boys beats a hasty retreat inside the hall. The one remaining looks furious, and can be heard shouting for the others to get back out there or they're all slimy egg-sucking cowards. Gabrion was startled by Yyth's action, but he's laughing with sheer delight by the time they're a length off the ground. "They're snakes, all of them," he says to P'ax, his voice ringing with triumph. "They were going to do a victory dance when we took off, they planned it. That was amazing! Tell her thank you? I've never met such an awesome dragon before."
P'ax extends a hand to pat Yyth's neck. She warbles, high and pleased. "Trust me, it was her pleasure, and mine, too. I'm almost sorry I couldn't let her bite any of them. We're going Between, are you ready?" His gloved hand tugs down the brim of his cap just a little tighter over his brow as he looks over his shoulder to make sure he has acknowledgement from his passenger before giving Yyth the okay.
And just like that, Yyth - and P'ax, too, probably, by extension - has secured a lifelong friend. "Ready," Gabrion sings out, radiating satisfaction and contentment as he clutches his satchel all the more tightly - he wouldn't want to drop it Between.
Yyth having a human friend -- a tiny human friend, at that, is /almost/ laughable. Oh well, he'll learn. P'ax nods stiffly and then Yyth makes the transfer into blackness and bone-numbing chill. It seems to stretch on indefinitely so that one might fear them lost in that nothingness -- except, snow flurries past, falling wetly in the sudden breeze that whirls it past, and Yyth tips her wings to take the long spiral down to the Bowl floor at a steep angle. "Going to be a rough landing," P'ax calls over the whining wind. "Can't see too well."
Gabrion stiffens, made nervous by the darkness and the warning, despite his experience riding on dragonback. He lets go of his satchel with one hand to grab onto whatever he can reach, be it harness or P'ax or even a handful of Yyth's hide if it comes to that.
There is, luckily, holds on that harness. Yyth is tragically famous for stiffing her landings. Fortunately, this one isn't as bad as it could be, and the impact is lessened by the snow piling up. P'ax blows out a relieved breath and turns hastily to start throwing buckles and getting them both and his pack unfastened. "Shards, I hate the winters here."
Gabrion oofs nonetheless, but he recovers quickly enough from having his teeth rattled, and at least the snow makings for a softer landing when sliding down off Yyth's neck. "Know what you mean," he says darkly as he searches through his coat pockets, then hikes up the coat to dig in his pants pockets for something.
P'ax lifts an eyebrow at Gabrion's digging and then makes a few ushering motions. "Let's get out of this. Do you need me to show you to the dormitories or anything?"
"Naw, I know the way," Gabrion assures him, though he's willing enough to get out of the weather, so he follows along after P'ax. Once indoors, he says, sheepish, "I've got, uh. This is kind of embarrassing. I'm sorry. I know I'm supposed to tip you, but I don't know how much the usual amount is... if this isn't enough, I can get more." He opens his hand to show on his palm three wooden mark pieces: one thirty-second, one sixteenth, and one eighth.
P'ax turns at the mention of tipping, eyebrows digging down in consternation. "Keep your money, kid. Yyth got to have a little fun, that's tip enough for me." One big hand lifts, palm out, intending to recurl Gabrion's fingers back over the wooden bits if he'll let him. Looking probably equally embarrassed over the whole thing, the tall rider pulls his cap off to scratch at his hair. "I'd appologize for prying, but it's sort of my thing. Were you just trying to avoid those kids, or your friend there, too?"
"I... thanks," Gabrion says, when P'ax closes his hand, and he stuffs the marks back into his pocket. "I owe you one, then." There's a pause before he answers the question. "I don't know. I just kind of - wanted to get it over with. The leaving. Firistan's a good guy. But I just wanted out of there." He shrugs his shoulders, unable to come up with any better explanation than that.
P'ax nods his head a few times in understanding. "Don't owe me anything," he murmurs distractedly. Licking his lips he adds, "You know, friends aren't necessarily easy to come by. Seems to me, if you've got one, you shouldn't abuse him. Know what it's like, wanting to leave without a scene, but try not to burn your bridges before you're over them, huh?"
Now Gabrion looks guilty. "You're probably right," he says, glum. "I didn't think of that. I just - I mean, if Yyth hadn't scared those boys off, they would have, you know, made a huge thing, and I didn't - I didn't want anyone to see that. Well, I was hoping if I didn't tell anyone but just cut out, that they wouldn't find out until too late, but." He shrugs his shoulders. "Yeah. Well, I /am/ going to write him."
P'ax shrugs his shoulders and sighs, leaning a shoulder into the wall easily and semi-reclining against the stone, chill or not. "So? One thing you'll come to realize - or at least, I hope you'll come to realize it - is that there are just some really jerky people in the world. And most of them are as stupid and ignorant as they come. Guys like that get their rocks off on humiliating people. If you don't care, they don't get any satisfaction out of it." He offers Gabe a tiny cringe of a smile. "You'll do alright though. Write your friend and try not to let it get you down. If it wasn't you, it'll just be somebody else tomorrow."
Gabrion's face closes off halfway through, and he waits until P'ax is done talking before giving him a polite nod. "I will," he says. "Thank you for the ride, and... everything. Yyth was really great." He smiles again at the memory. "I'll uh, I'll see you around, probably?"
P'ax sees it, can't stop it, so he raises his eyebrow in a challenging way. "She's great until you get on her bad side - and she doesn't have a good one. Sure, kid, I'll be around. Give me a shout if you've got anyone you need wrung out. If Yyth's harrassing other people, she won't be harrassing me, see?" He flicks a mocking two-fingered salute off his temple at the newest resident and then brushes through on his way off down the tunnel.
Gabrion laughs again, wryly, and waves, then trots off down the tunnel, himself, taking the first turn that leads toward the resident quarters.
OOC Date: October 15, 2009
IC Date: Day 12, month 13, turn 20 of Interval 10.
Where: Outside the Healer Hall
Who: Gabrion, P'ax, Yyth, NPC-Firistan
Gabrion had been lurking in the dormitory, waiting, when someone brought him word that a rider from High Reaches was here for him. Since he was all packed up already, it's not too long before he emerges from the hall carrying his belongings - one large and lumpy sack, and another much smaller satchel that is quite heavy for its size. He approaches P'ax and Yyth and greets the dragonrider with a polite tilt of his head. "Hello, greenrider," he says quietly. "I'm Gabrion. Thank you for coming."
P'ax is lounging against Yyth's side, waiting patiently for Gabrion to appear. When the small lad does, he tips his head in return. "Gabrion? Alright then. I'm P'ax, this is Yyth. Watch her head, she bites." The corner of his thin mouth curves, so either he's joking, or she really does and he thinks it's pretty funny. "Can I help you with your things?" He indicates the ex-apprentice's meager belongings.
There is nothing soft or kind about the face of this young man. He has a long, thin face and a somewhat fleshy nose. The most significant thing about him are his penetrating, cold blue eyes. Thin lips complete the planes of his face, the upper extended wider than the lower and slightly fuller to give him the appearance of a perpetual scowl that can only be countered through great effort. His hair was probably once a light brown but has bleached to a dark blond and even lighter in places, kept longer than is strictly necessary with a tendancy towards very messy.
P'ax can only be described as long and lanky, his height accentuated by his lack of spare flesh. His shoulders have finally begun to fill out into their full potential, along with the ropey cords of muscle the stand out, making him look powerful in a more graceful way than bulk would. His height only lends credence to the more intimidating parts of him, all 6'3" of him handled nicely now that he's grown into it.
He wears a white button-down, rolled up to his elbows, and gray wherhide pants. His boots are servicable, if well used. Pulled firmly down over his head is a knitted cap with a stiff brim the sticks out over his eyes. A wide belt is fastened around his lean hips, holding a belt knife, a soft wherhide pouch, and what is unmistakably a long finger bone from some animal dangling like a charm. On his shoulder is the knot of a greenrider from High Reaches Weyr.
Gabrion glances at the green and smiles. "Hello, Yyth," he says. "Thank you for coming, too." He's easy enough that he seems to be accustomed to dragons, and he smirks at the comment about her biting, taking it for a joke. "P'ax," he says, very polite. "Well met. And yes, please, if you would." He holds out the larger of the two bags to the rider. "It would probably be easiest if this were loaded onto the harness. But do you think it would be better for me to hold this one?" He gestures with the smaller satchel. Some other people come out of the healer hall, and one tall boy is running toward where Gabrion and P'ax and Yyth are standing. The others, a handful of older boys, remain near the doorway, watching.
P'ax was not joking, but since the ugly, lanky green is taking the ignore the passenger approach, her rider is free to reach out for the larger sack. "Does it have anything breakable in it? If there is, then probably. If not, I can strap it in here." The bag is fastened in and he waits on Gabrion's decision. Yyth's head swivels towards the gathering of boys, and P'ax's attention draws that way after another second. "Friends of yours?"
"Yes, I'll hold it then, thank you," Gabrion says. At the question, he looks around, and his expression changes from formal politeness to an inscrutable mix of apprehension, resignation, and... something else. The running boy calls out, "Gabe! What, you were just going to up and leave without even saying goodbye?" Still clutching his satchel, Gabrion sighs a bit before answering. "You knew I was going. You were in class. I couldn't keep a dragonrider waiting." To P'ax, since he asked, he says, "This is my friend Firistan. Firistan, this is P'ax and his green is Yyth." He does not answer the question with reference to the other boys, one of whom is now pointing and saying something to the rest. But they're too far away for their conversation to be heard.
P'ax doesn't really seem the sort inclined to smile at just anyone or for any reason. Firistan, therefore, gets none such social nicities. Instead, the greenrider shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Take your time if you want to say goodbye. The weather's crap up at the Weyr anyway, so I'm in no rush." Which more or less drops Gabe right back on the hook with his buddy, it would seem. Yyth, it would seem, is way more interested in whispery, pointy onlookers, fixing them all with one beady eye and shifting her weight like she might move towards them.
Firistan is not about to let Gabe off said hook, either. "Well yeah, but you could have at least stuck your head in. Look, I know you're upset, but... you're coming back, right? I mean you'll take a few weeks off, or a month or two, or whatever, but then you're coming back. Right?" Gabrion just looks at him with raised eyebrows, looks pointedly at the boys clustered by the hall entrance - they're now laughing at something - and then looks back at his friend again. Firistan turns his head to see where Gabe was looking, and frowns. "You can't let them..." but Gabe interrupts him. "Look, just leave it. I'll write you, okay? I mean, who knows what will happen." He holds out his hand. It's suspended there in the air for a long moment before Firistan takes it. Gabe gives him a small and rueful smile, then turns back to P'ax and says, "I'm ready to go now, I think, if you are, rider." The mask of politeness is back on.
P'ax does a good job to pretend he's not listening to the two boys talk, double-checking Yyth's straps. Her head sways for a moment and then she gusts out a sigh at about the same time P'ax murmurs firmly, "No, Yyth." Turning back to Gabrion he nods his head. "She offered to eat those boys ever there, so yes, I think we should." Be going, that is. With another beleagued sigh the big green lowers herself to the ground, laying her head against the stone courtyard to allow rider and passenger an easier time up onto her neck. P'ax swings up and offers his hand down to Gabrion, eyes on Firistan with just the vaguest sparkle of curiousity in their stormy depths.
Gabrion blinks in surprise, and there's a hint of appreciation for the offer on his face. "I wish someone would," he mutters, very quietly. Firistan has retreated to a safe distance from which to watch the dragon take off, so probably hasn't heard him, but P'ax might have. He waits for the greenrider to get settled, then takes his hand and makes use of that assistance to pull himself aboard. He knows how to mount a dragon: clearly, he's done this before many times. He even knows how to strap himself in. Once that's done, he gives Firistan a stoic smile and a wave, then clutches his satchel tightly in both hands as the other boy waves back.
There's a flutter of those lips again that might be a wry smile. "Hold on," P'ax warns once he's sure Gabrion is strapped in properly and himself as well. Rather than taking off, Yyth's head swivels and she charges the boys with a shrill, high roar. The momentum of that ungainly run is pushed into her leap upwards, wings catching. P'ax? He just laughs while the green climbs higher. "I was an apprentice once," he explains, half turning so that his voice will carry without the wind snatching it away. "I know exactly their type."
There are startled shouts and even one terrified shriek, and all but one of the boys beats a hasty retreat inside the hall. The one remaining looks furious, and can be heard shouting for the others to get back out there or they're all slimy egg-sucking cowards. Gabrion was startled by Yyth's action, but he's laughing with sheer delight by the time they're a length off the ground. "They're snakes, all of them," he says to P'ax, his voice ringing with triumph. "They were going to do a victory dance when we took off, they planned it. That was amazing! Tell her thank you? I've never met such an awesome dragon before."
P'ax extends a hand to pat Yyth's neck. She warbles, high and pleased. "Trust me, it was her pleasure, and mine, too. I'm almost sorry I couldn't let her bite any of them. We're going Between, are you ready?" His gloved hand tugs down the brim of his cap just a little tighter over his brow as he looks over his shoulder to make sure he has acknowledgement from his passenger before giving Yyth the okay.
And just like that, Yyth - and P'ax, too, probably, by extension - has secured a lifelong friend. "Ready," Gabrion sings out, radiating satisfaction and contentment as he clutches his satchel all the more tightly - he wouldn't want to drop it Between.
Yyth having a human friend -- a tiny human friend, at that, is /almost/ laughable. Oh well, he'll learn. P'ax nods stiffly and then Yyth makes the transfer into blackness and bone-numbing chill. It seems to stretch on indefinitely so that one might fear them lost in that nothingness -- except, snow flurries past, falling wetly in the sudden breeze that whirls it past, and Yyth tips her wings to take the long spiral down to the Bowl floor at a steep angle. "Going to be a rough landing," P'ax calls over the whining wind. "Can't see too well."
Gabrion stiffens, made nervous by the darkness and the warning, despite his experience riding on dragonback. He lets go of his satchel with one hand to grab onto whatever he can reach, be it harness or P'ax or even a handful of Yyth's hide if it comes to that.
There is, luckily, holds on that harness. Yyth is tragically famous for stiffing her landings. Fortunately, this one isn't as bad as it could be, and the impact is lessened by the snow piling up. P'ax blows out a relieved breath and turns hastily to start throwing buckles and getting them both and his pack unfastened. "Shards, I hate the winters here."
Gabrion oofs nonetheless, but he recovers quickly enough from having his teeth rattled, and at least the snow makings for a softer landing when sliding down off Yyth's neck. "Know what you mean," he says darkly as he searches through his coat pockets, then hikes up the coat to dig in his pants pockets for something.
P'ax lifts an eyebrow at Gabrion's digging and then makes a few ushering motions. "Let's get out of this. Do you need me to show you to the dormitories or anything?"
"Naw, I know the way," Gabrion assures him, though he's willing enough to get out of the weather, so he follows along after P'ax. Once indoors, he says, sheepish, "I've got, uh. This is kind of embarrassing. I'm sorry. I know I'm supposed to tip you, but I don't know how much the usual amount is... if this isn't enough, I can get more." He opens his hand to show on his palm three wooden mark pieces: one thirty-second, one sixteenth, and one eighth.
P'ax turns at the mention of tipping, eyebrows digging down in consternation. "Keep your money, kid. Yyth got to have a little fun, that's tip enough for me." One big hand lifts, palm out, intending to recurl Gabrion's fingers back over the wooden bits if he'll let him. Looking probably equally embarrassed over the whole thing, the tall rider pulls his cap off to scratch at his hair. "I'd appologize for prying, but it's sort of my thing. Were you just trying to avoid those kids, or your friend there, too?"
"I... thanks," Gabrion says, when P'ax closes his hand, and he stuffs the marks back into his pocket. "I owe you one, then." There's a pause before he answers the question. "I don't know. I just kind of - wanted to get it over with. The leaving. Firistan's a good guy. But I just wanted out of there." He shrugs his shoulders, unable to come up with any better explanation than that.
P'ax nods his head a few times in understanding. "Don't owe me anything," he murmurs distractedly. Licking his lips he adds, "You know, friends aren't necessarily easy to come by. Seems to me, if you've got one, you shouldn't abuse him. Know what it's like, wanting to leave without a scene, but try not to burn your bridges before you're over them, huh?"
Now Gabrion looks guilty. "You're probably right," he says, glum. "I didn't think of that. I just - I mean, if Yyth hadn't scared those boys off, they would have, you know, made a huge thing, and I didn't - I didn't want anyone to see that. Well, I was hoping if I didn't tell anyone but just cut out, that they wouldn't find out until too late, but." He shrugs his shoulders. "Yeah. Well, I /am/ going to write him."
P'ax shrugs his shoulders and sighs, leaning a shoulder into the wall easily and semi-reclining against the stone, chill or not. "So? One thing you'll come to realize - or at least, I hope you'll come to realize it - is that there are just some really jerky people in the world. And most of them are as stupid and ignorant as they come. Guys like that get their rocks off on humiliating people. If you don't care, they don't get any satisfaction out of it." He offers Gabe a tiny cringe of a smile. "You'll do alright though. Write your friend and try not to let it get you down. If it wasn't you, it'll just be somebody else tomorrow."
Gabrion's face closes off halfway through, and he waits until P'ax is done talking before giving him a polite nod. "I will," he says. "Thank you for the ride, and... everything. Yyth was really great." He smiles again at the memory. "I'll uh, I'll see you around, probably?"
P'ax sees it, can't stop it, so he raises his eyebrow in a challenging way. "She's great until you get on her bad side - and she doesn't have a good one. Sure, kid, I'll be around. Give me a shout if you've got anyone you need wrung out. If Yyth's harrassing other people, she won't be harrassing me, see?" He flicks a mocking two-fingered salute off his temple at the newest resident and then brushes through on his way off down the tunnel.
Gabrion laughs again, wryly, and waves, then trots off down the tunnel, himself, taking the first turn that leads toward the resident quarters.