The Argument
An enemy generally says and believes what he wishes. ~Thomas Jefferson
OOC Date: March 29, 2010
IC Date: Day 3, month 5, turn 22 of Interval 10.
Who: G'brion, W'chek, Pterath, Zhikath
Where: HRW Bowl
G'brion runs into W'chek, and they're bestest of friends again. Okay, not really. Pterath isn't a huge fan of Zhikath, either, despite a positive first impression. (She likes big dragons, what can I say?)
Pterath is freshly fed, bathed, and oiled, and she's out for a walk in the bowl with her rider in tow. A number of grown dragons are out enjoying the lack of rain, and Pterath greets each and every one of them with a cheery hello. Occasionally she pauses for a longer conversation, while her rider stands and looks on patiently. But none of the big dragons, to her disappointment, can be induced to interrupt their lounging to play with her. "It's okay," Gabe says finally. "Balyeroth and the others will play with you when we get back to the barracks. You wanna go back now?"
Enter one new big dragon--quite a big dragon, Zhikath, in comparative terms. He lands very neatly not too far away, and W'chek dismounts, his only attention at the moment on his straps, tugging at one particular place and inspecting the seam there with a frown. That leaves the bronze just to sit patiently, very still, for this process, but his attention drifts out, eyes picking out a very small green, just watching her at first.
With his view of W'chek blocked by Zhikath, Gabe doesn't immediately realize which bronze it is who's landed. So when Pterath darts over to say hello, he ambles after, smiling, and gives the bronze a polite nod of greeting. << Good afternoon! >> the little green says brightly to Zhikath, doing little mental somersaults of delight at having someone else Big to talk to. << You are very tall! >> She throws up a mental image of a row of dragons, arranged in order according to height, with Pterath at the small end and Zhikath at the farthest opposite end, the biggest of all.
The image that Zhikath projects back has a few dragons on the other side of it, most notably Iovniath at the far end a few past him. But he's definitely pretty far up there. << Good afternoon. You are quite small. But you will grow. >> No more feeling there with it than if it were merely a recitation of facts. W'chek starts to get his straps off and in the process, comes around his dragon. Finds their little visitors, there. Frowns. "Hi." At least he manages to say that much.
Pterath IS small! And proud of it, too. << I am very good at being small! >> she boasts, and flattens herself to the ground as if all the air had been squashed out of her. << See? >> Then she rolls over and climbs back to her feet again, shaking the dirt off herself with an all-over wriggle. << Do you want to play? >> she asks eagerly. G'brion blinks, startled to see W'chek, and takes a step back. "Oh. Hi," he says, wary.
"Hi." W'chek did just say that, right? But still, there it is again. Once the straps are off, he starts tugging on them, frowns. Rolls his eyes, starts to put them back on again. "It'll hold until we get back," he says, mostly to himself. << You are indeed very small. >> Zhikath pauses. Tilts his head to regard her again with whirling eyes. << Play? >> Like he's never heard that word before in his entire life. "So, uh." W'chek glances back at Gabe. "Nose looks okay."
G'brion bristles. "What, you looking to break it again?" he asks - ready to make a run for it, just in case. Pterath makes a whistly sound at Zhikath, almost like a draconic laugh. << Yes! We could play roar-at-the-bad-people-and-make-them-run-away? >> she suggests. That is, at present, her favorite game. << You could be the bad-people. >> Plural, since he's so big.
<< I am not bad, >> Zhikath replies, hunkering down once he's allowed to lower his gaze to her level. << And I do not think I would have to run away from you. You are very small. >> Imagination is not his strong suit. But at least he's not ignoring her, so there's that? W'chek gets the straps the rest of the way buckled again, "That depends, you done anything else to deserve it? Would think you've been to busy with her and all."
<< Of course you aren't bad, >> Pterath agrees readily. << It's only pretend. >> She shares images of some people who ARE bad! They do mean things like call other people names, or sometimes punch them in the face for no reason - hm, one of them looks /awfully/ familiar, doesn't he? << I could be very fierce. Like this, watch! >> She takes a huge breath and bellows out as big of a RRAAWWWRR! as she can. G'brion narrows his eyes at W'chek. "I didn't deserve it in the first place, dung-breath." So mature. "You stop beating your weyrmate yet?" Pterath, her fierce roar completed, catches on that all is not quite well with her rider, and swings her head around to look.
This 'pretend' thing gets no comprehension whatsoever. << That was very fierce, >> Zhikath agrees evenly, but then: << My rider is not bad. >> His words get much more clipped at that point. This is an issue of honor, after all. But he doesn't go into more detail, though his wings twitch in agitation. W'chek is actually, this time, better at looking cool and collected, although he gives a momentarily startled glance at Pterath's bellowing. "If I was such an awful person, why would he be my weyrmate?"
Pterath tilts her head at G'brion, then gives W'chek a long look, and finally turns back to Zhikath. No words, this time, just the image of a fist abruptly closing in, and an explosion of pain. G'brion opens his mouth, then shuts it again, darting a look at Pterath. There's some silent communication happening, and it distracts him for a minute or two before he finally says to W'chek, "That, I don't know." Pterath looks like she might decide to RAWR for real, and not just in play. She pulls herself up to her full height and flares her wings slightly. << It was him, >> she says, challenging Zhikath to say otherwise.
"We're happy. How it is that we're happy isn't anybody else's business." W'chek isn't really even bothering to deny anything, although B'tal really hasn't been walking around with any mysterious injuries lately. << Sometimes that happens. >> Zhikath is back to his cucumber impression. << It has happened to mine, too. >> He's able to pull up a much better projection, although it lacks sensory detail. Visuals without sound or pain or the taste of blood. << They have their ways of doing things. >> The mystery of humanity.
Pterath does not agree. << It didn't happen, he DID it. That's bad! >> she informs Zhikath pointedly, with a sting in her mindvoice. << He should say sorry, and promise not to do it again. >> G'brion scowls at W'chek. "If he's fine with you beating on him, that's stupid, but whatever," he says. "But it kind of is the business of OTHER people you might decide to beat on." He casts a glance at Pterath, but she seems to be holding her own, so he doesn't intervene.
<< That would be lying. >> Zhikath draws back from her slightly at that, peering at her with eyes whirling a confused range of shades. "When you do things," W'chek says calmly, "there are consequences. Didn't your mother ever spank you? Fuck." Like none of this should be all that big a deal. He's not really scowling himself. "Healed, didn't it?" A squinty look at the nose in question without getting any closer. "Swear, didn't realize you were gonna be such a pussy about it."
There's buzzing, like a horde of stinging vtols, and Pterath flings them, buzzes and stings at all, right at Zhikath. << If he does it again I will BITE him, RIGHT BETWEEN THE LEGS!!! >> she informs the bigger bronze, and the image that accompanies that declaration strongly suggests W'chek will be minus an appendage when she's done. "You're not my mother, don't you dare talk about my mother," Gabe says heatedly to W'chek; he'd say more, but he's caught the gist of Pterath's exchange with Zhikath, so he whirls to try to defuse that. "Pterath. Stop that. Come here, we're going back to the barracks. /Pterath./" There's more to his attempt to calm her, which he doesn't bother voicing out loud, but the gist might come through anyway, since Pterath informs Zhikath << I won't have to bite him because the weyrleader will cut it off! But then I'll bite him ANYWAY so he'd better not!!! >> "PTERATH." G'brion is now glaring at his green and ignoring W'chek altogether.
<< You will do no such thing. >> Zhikath is bigger, and a grown adult, and his words suddenly have the weight of all of that. << Biting is not permitted. >> He would have made such a good weyrlingmaster's dragon. If his rider wasn't a prat. W'chek hardly seems to notice all this trouble. "Pussy," he mutters again, rolling his eyes, and he starts to walk off in the direction of the lower caverns, leaving Zhikath to sit there giving Pterath a surprisingly placid Look.
"Asshole!" Gabe calls after W'chek, then stalks toward his green, fully intending to pick her up if he has to. He doesn't have to - she scuttles away from him and back toward the barracks. He gives Zhikath a glare, for good measure, before walking off. << Zhikath sucks to play with! Don't play with him! >> Pterath alerts the other weyrling dragons at top volume as she runs home. No doubt every dragon between here and the barracks can hear.
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Pterath projects, << Zhikath sucks to play with! Don't play with him! >>
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Liniath sounds very curious. << He is not fun? Does he not like to play? >>
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Pterath projects, << He doesn't know how to pretend! And his rider is a face-puncher! >>
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Isath suggests, gently, << Perhaps he's just not in the mood for games. Why don't you find someone else to play with, Pterath? >>
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Liniath projects, << Punching faces is not a fun game! How could you not know how to pretend? Maybe he's just telling you he doesn't know how. >>
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Pterath snorts. << No, he's stupid! He really doesn't know how, and he thinks face-punching isn't bad! ...Isath, can I play dig-in-the mud? >> She's crafty - her /rider/ said No, but if /Isath/ says yes...
Dragon> Quietly, << Let's leave Zhikath alone, mmm? Not /everyone/ likes playing pretend. >> The green softens her touch with a faint wave of moonlight, then adds to Pterath, << What did your rider say? >> /Someone/ has been doing this too long to be easily fooled. (Isath to all Flurry dragons)
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Pterath admits grudgingly to Isath, << He said No because I just got clean. But you could tell him to just clean me again afterwards! >>
Dragon> Well then! As far as Isath's concerned, that answers the question rather conclusively. << Tomorrow, then. You can play in the mud /tomorrow/. Before your bath. >> (Isath to all Flurry dragons)
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Pterath grumbles sulkily, << That isn't fair. >>
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Isath EYES Pterath. << Do you ever think ANYTHING is fair? You'll live. >>
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Pterath shuts up, but not without letting everyone know how unfair THAT is, too.
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Isath blows bubbles at Pterath. There, there.
OOC Date: March 29, 2010
IC Date: Day 3, month 5, turn 22 of Interval 10.
Who: G'brion, W'chek, Pterath, Zhikath
Where: HRW Bowl
G'brion runs into W'chek, and they're bestest of friends again. Okay, not really. Pterath isn't a huge fan of Zhikath, either, despite a positive first impression. (She likes big dragons, what can I say?)
Pterath is freshly fed, bathed, and oiled, and she's out for a walk in the bowl with her rider in tow. A number of grown dragons are out enjoying the lack of rain, and Pterath greets each and every one of them with a cheery hello. Occasionally she pauses for a longer conversation, while her rider stands and looks on patiently. But none of the big dragons, to her disappointment, can be induced to interrupt their lounging to play with her. "It's okay," Gabe says finally. "Balyeroth and the others will play with you when we get back to the barracks. You wanna go back now?"
Enter one new big dragon--quite a big dragon, Zhikath, in comparative terms. He lands very neatly not too far away, and W'chek dismounts, his only attention at the moment on his straps, tugging at one particular place and inspecting the seam there with a frown. That leaves the bronze just to sit patiently, very still, for this process, but his attention drifts out, eyes picking out a very small green, just watching her at first.
With his view of W'chek blocked by Zhikath, Gabe doesn't immediately realize which bronze it is who's landed. So when Pterath darts over to say hello, he ambles after, smiling, and gives the bronze a polite nod of greeting. << Good afternoon! >> the little green says brightly to Zhikath, doing little mental somersaults of delight at having someone else Big to talk to. << You are very tall! >> She throws up a mental image of a row of dragons, arranged in order according to height, with Pterath at the small end and Zhikath at the farthest opposite end, the biggest of all.
The image that Zhikath projects back has a few dragons on the other side of it, most notably Iovniath at the far end a few past him. But he's definitely pretty far up there. << Good afternoon. You are quite small. But you will grow. >> No more feeling there with it than if it were merely a recitation of facts. W'chek starts to get his straps off and in the process, comes around his dragon. Finds their little visitors, there. Frowns. "Hi." At least he manages to say that much.
Pterath IS small! And proud of it, too. << I am very good at being small! >> she boasts, and flattens herself to the ground as if all the air had been squashed out of her. << See? >> Then she rolls over and climbs back to her feet again, shaking the dirt off herself with an all-over wriggle. << Do you want to play? >> she asks eagerly. G'brion blinks, startled to see W'chek, and takes a step back. "Oh. Hi," he says, wary.
"Hi." W'chek did just say that, right? But still, there it is again. Once the straps are off, he starts tugging on them, frowns. Rolls his eyes, starts to put them back on again. "It'll hold until we get back," he says, mostly to himself. << You are indeed very small. >> Zhikath pauses. Tilts his head to regard her again with whirling eyes. << Play? >> Like he's never heard that word before in his entire life. "So, uh." W'chek glances back at Gabe. "Nose looks okay."
G'brion bristles. "What, you looking to break it again?" he asks - ready to make a run for it, just in case. Pterath makes a whistly sound at Zhikath, almost like a draconic laugh. << Yes! We could play roar-at-the-bad-people-and-make-them-run-away? >> she suggests. That is, at present, her favorite game. << You could be the bad-people. >> Plural, since he's so big.
<< I am not bad, >> Zhikath replies, hunkering down once he's allowed to lower his gaze to her level. << And I do not think I would have to run away from you. You are very small. >> Imagination is not his strong suit. But at least he's not ignoring her, so there's that? W'chek gets the straps the rest of the way buckled again, "That depends, you done anything else to deserve it? Would think you've been to busy with her and all."
<< Of course you aren't bad, >> Pterath agrees readily. << It's only pretend. >> She shares images of some people who ARE bad! They do mean things like call other people names, or sometimes punch them in the face for no reason - hm, one of them looks /awfully/ familiar, doesn't he? << I could be very fierce. Like this, watch! >> She takes a huge breath and bellows out as big of a RRAAWWWRR! as she can. G'brion narrows his eyes at W'chek. "I didn't deserve it in the first place, dung-breath." So mature. "You stop beating your weyrmate yet?" Pterath, her fierce roar completed, catches on that all is not quite well with her rider, and swings her head around to look.
This 'pretend' thing gets no comprehension whatsoever. << That was very fierce, >> Zhikath agrees evenly, but then: << My rider is not bad. >> His words get much more clipped at that point. This is an issue of honor, after all. But he doesn't go into more detail, though his wings twitch in agitation. W'chek is actually, this time, better at looking cool and collected, although he gives a momentarily startled glance at Pterath's bellowing. "If I was such an awful person, why would he be my weyrmate?"
Pterath tilts her head at G'brion, then gives W'chek a long look, and finally turns back to Zhikath. No words, this time, just the image of a fist abruptly closing in, and an explosion of pain. G'brion opens his mouth, then shuts it again, darting a look at Pterath. There's some silent communication happening, and it distracts him for a minute or two before he finally says to W'chek, "That, I don't know." Pterath looks like she might decide to RAWR for real, and not just in play. She pulls herself up to her full height and flares her wings slightly. << It was him, >> she says, challenging Zhikath to say otherwise.
"We're happy. How it is that we're happy isn't anybody else's business." W'chek isn't really even bothering to deny anything, although B'tal really hasn't been walking around with any mysterious injuries lately. << Sometimes that happens. >> Zhikath is back to his cucumber impression. << It has happened to mine, too. >> He's able to pull up a much better projection, although it lacks sensory detail. Visuals without sound or pain or the taste of blood. << They have their ways of doing things. >> The mystery of humanity.
Pterath does not agree. << It didn't happen, he DID it. That's bad! >> she informs Zhikath pointedly, with a sting in her mindvoice. << He should say sorry, and promise not to do it again. >> G'brion scowls at W'chek. "If he's fine with you beating on him, that's stupid, but whatever," he says. "But it kind of is the business of OTHER people you might decide to beat on." He casts a glance at Pterath, but she seems to be holding her own, so he doesn't intervene.
<< That would be lying. >> Zhikath draws back from her slightly at that, peering at her with eyes whirling a confused range of shades. "When you do things," W'chek says calmly, "there are consequences. Didn't your mother ever spank you? Fuck." Like none of this should be all that big a deal. He's not really scowling himself. "Healed, didn't it?" A squinty look at the nose in question without getting any closer. "Swear, didn't realize you were gonna be such a pussy about it."
There's buzzing, like a horde of stinging vtols, and Pterath flings them, buzzes and stings at all, right at Zhikath. << If he does it again I will BITE him, RIGHT BETWEEN THE LEGS!!! >> she informs the bigger bronze, and the image that accompanies that declaration strongly suggests W'chek will be minus an appendage when she's done. "You're not my mother, don't you dare talk about my mother," Gabe says heatedly to W'chek; he'd say more, but he's caught the gist of Pterath's exchange with Zhikath, so he whirls to try to defuse that. "Pterath. Stop that. Come here, we're going back to the barracks. /Pterath./" There's more to his attempt to calm her, which he doesn't bother voicing out loud, but the gist might come through anyway, since Pterath informs Zhikath << I won't have to bite him because the weyrleader will cut it off! But then I'll bite him ANYWAY so he'd better not!!! >> "PTERATH." G'brion is now glaring at his green and ignoring W'chek altogether.
<< You will do no such thing. >> Zhikath is bigger, and a grown adult, and his words suddenly have the weight of all of that. << Biting is not permitted. >> He would have made such a good weyrlingmaster's dragon. If his rider wasn't a prat. W'chek hardly seems to notice all this trouble. "Pussy," he mutters again, rolling his eyes, and he starts to walk off in the direction of the lower caverns, leaving Zhikath to sit there giving Pterath a surprisingly placid Look.
"Asshole!" Gabe calls after W'chek, then stalks toward his green, fully intending to pick her up if he has to. He doesn't have to - she scuttles away from him and back toward the barracks. He gives Zhikath a glare, for good measure, before walking off. << Zhikath sucks to play with! Don't play with him! >> Pterath alerts the other weyrling dragons at top volume as she runs home. No doubt every dragon between here and the barracks can hear.
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Pterath projects, << Zhikath sucks to play with! Don't play with him! >>
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Liniath sounds very curious. << He is not fun? Does he not like to play? >>
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Pterath projects, << He doesn't know how to pretend! And his rider is a face-puncher! >>
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Isath suggests, gently, << Perhaps he's just not in the mood for games. Why don't you find someone else to play with, Pterath? >>
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Liniath projects, << Punching faces is not a fun game! How could you not know how to pretend? Maybe he's just telling you he doesn't know how. >>
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Pterath snorts. << No, he's stupid! He really doesn't know how, and he thinks face-punching isn't bad! ...Isath, can I play dig-in-the mud? >> She's crafty - her /rider/ said No, but if /Isath/ says yes...
Dragon> Quietly, << Let's leave Zhikath alone, mmm? Not /everyone/ likes playing pretend. >> The green softens her touch with a faint wave of moonlight, then adds to Pterath, << What did your rider say? >> /Someone/ has been doing this too long to be easily fooled. (Isath to all Flurry dragons)
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Pterath admits grudgingly to Isath, << He said No because I just got clean. But you could tell him to just clean me again afterwards! >>
Dragon> Well then! As far as Isath's concerned, that answers the question rather conclusively. << Tomorrow, then. You can play in the mud /tomorrow/. Before your bath. >> (Isath to all Flurry dragons)
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Pterath grumbles sulkily, << That isn't fair. >>
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Isath EYES Pterath. << Do you ever think ANYTHING is fair? You'll live. >>
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Pterath shuts up, but not without letting everyone know how unfair THAT is, too.
Dragon> To all Flurry dragons, Isath blows bubbles at Pterath. There, there.