Short men and flirty browns.

[greenridertav]

Who:  H'kon, Tavaly
Where:  H'kon's Weyr
When: Evening on day 16, month 6, turn 3 of the 7th Pass
What: Tavaly seems to need a little extra help with repairs on her straps. Large projects, it seems, are a little out of reach at the moment for her. So, having heard of H'kon's skill, she asks to see the man for assistance. And ends up.. well.

Other: Not indecent. No, really. The polar oposite of indecent!

Whatever the brown may be doing will be subtly interrupted by the appearance of a small, disingetrating green bird somewhere in the back of his mind. The trail it's decaying wings leave behind glitters until sputtering out into nothingness. There is a voice with it, something lilting, but very stubborn. << Yours knows how to work the hide of beasts, yes? >> A green mind.

Arekoth's response shatters a tapestry of colour, as the brown's attenion is drawn from his argument and to that voice. A green mind. Smooth and sauve, << Mine knows many things about work, >> comes in reply, dragging remaining threads of crimson reds and deep greens. << Though you might be more interested in what -I- know about... hides... >>

The bird perches upon a black branch somewhere among a miasma of colors. Rich jewel tones in unformed clouds. << Mine seeks help in a repair that cannot be done alone. She mends, still. >> A sudden flash of images. Thread, eating away the flesh of arm and hand. << Will yours accept company? >>

Arekoth weaves together those trailing strands, bringing shards of that former tapestry together in the process. << Ah. >> The whole deal is brought back into completion, and for a moment the brown is all but lost behind the colours of it. A corner pulls back to reveal, << He will. >> An element of force behind that, and a cloud of dust and lint blows forth. << You may come, >> is almost cocky. And that tapestry hangs still.

There is a sudden affirmative generated through. Wordless. The green bird takes flight again until sending out a small shockwave as it disappears, exploding outward in hundreds of small, glittering pieces. << We come. >> She finally says.

-+-

The brownrider waiting on the ledge, silhouetted against his dragon, though not leaning, is not a happy-looking one. Little bits of hair clutter his ears and neck, though the hair atop his head is of a fresh shortness. The shears that have presumably rendered it this way are nowhere to be seen. As the green lands (and Arekoth has made sure that she has plenty of room to do so), H'kon tilts his head upward, eyes narrowing slightly. Familiarity? He makes no move to step toward the rider, waiting instead for her to dismount, the arms that are crossed over his chest tensing slightly.

And land she does. The green is large, for her color, and the room is needed for she lands on all fours all at once. The impact is minimal, but the dragon owns the ledge briefly while her rider slips off, right arm and leg leading her down carefully. A few broad buckles are undone and the straps wound about the green's neck slip off and over her shoulder, including a wide satchel fit to bursting. The woman turns, long brown braid dangling over one shoulder. "Sorry." She says first. "For such short notice." She says. She and the dragon both smell of phosphorous. Must have been in one of the wings to fight 'fall today. "After this last fall, I figured these'd need a touch up. My hand, I'm afraid, won't last me all the time it'll take. Would you be willing to help me? I've brought something for you in return, of course.

H'kon's teeth have set themselves together, though his jaw isn't clenched. They show faintly, lips not fully closed, as he glances over his shoulder and up to his dragon, before returning his attention to that greenrider. "Ah," is stated after the woman has explained her reasoning. A light sniff given to the air, that smell clinging to rider and dragon easily picked up. He steps forward, now, holding a hand out exectantly for the straps. Already, icy blue eyes are roving across the things. "I will. I have the time."

"And you also have my thanks, H'kon." She says, offering the man a small, experimental smile. "Would it bother you if I watched?" She asked. "I brought this." She pulls from the satchel a bottle. Fine Benden wine. When she brings payment, she does it fancy, apparently. "It's been a while since I'd seen leather tended by someone else's hand.." Immath, for her part, has edged to the side of the ledge, making herself as small as possible, consuming little space.

The request brings a prompt scowl, even as both hands are brought to the straps, and he sets to rotating them slowly. "I do not work as entertainment for others," is replied, simple, gruff. "If you know it, there is little point in watching me." The wine gets the briefest glance, though it fails altogether to impress the rider. More attention to those straps finds him giving a satisfied nod - fixable- with no further verbal commentary to the subject.

"Too bad." Tav says, sticking the bottle back in the satchel. She steps past the man, left leg giving a slight limp moments before she disappears into his weyr. "Want to make sure it's done right. I hear your good, but I aim to see for myself. Like it or not, I'm staying to watch." Her voice raises to be heard as the man is left behind her on the ledge.

H'kon is surprised by the move, perhaps the only reason the greenrider was not blocked bodily - threadscored or not. "No." Forceful. "No, you will not be in my weyr." It doesn't take H'kon long to come 'round Tavaly, positioning himself so that she is between himself and the entrance, and showing no restraint in standing close enough that his chest is near bumping her. "If you do not trust my work, then you would best find someone else." The straps are pushed to the greenrider. Into the greenrider, if she doesn't step back. "Now leave."

Close as he may be she takes a step closer, nose nearly shoved into his face. "What do you want in return for letting me watch you work?" She asks, no chime of impudence in her tone. Simple question, simple voice. "I trust my eyes. I haven't /seen/ your work. I'd like to. Please do not turn me away."

H'kon tilts his head up to stare at... well, that nose. "Then I will show you Arekoth's straps." His jaw has set, and his shoulders are held square. Hands have formed into fists around the straps, though it could just as well be a reaction to the physical proximity as a demonstration of increased frustration. "I do the work on them myself. But you will," major emphasis to that last word, "wait on the ledge."

"Hermit." She says, features morphing into an almost satisfied grin. She's gone and ruffled his feathers. That's too bad. He has a strong face
and Tav wastes little subtlety in looking at it. Huh. "Always were stubborn. Even during practice. Suit yourself. I'll wait on your ledge. My leg gets stiff, though, you get to explain why to my Wingleader." She says. What had previously been playful boldness is quickly turning into grouchiness.

H'kon is easily too stubborn to show himself being unnerved by that look - but for the quick ripple of fingers on his right hand as his grip is adjusted over the straps. "Then you should not be surprised." The complaint about the leg brings a sharp, "I will bring you a chair, then." It's with an outright sour voice that he adds, "And would you like a blanket, as well? I'm told summers can be terribly cold." Eyes have narrowed.

"Nevermind it." She says, defeated. And grouchy. She moves to the very edge of the ledge, leaning back and down until her right hand touches the cold stone, left first shooting out over the edge, and then the right. She sits there, back to him. "Do whatcha gotta do." She continues, left hand plucking up a small chunk of stone. She passes it from hand to hand.

H'kon gives a snort to follow the greenrider out, though himself heads for that rack in the corner of his weyr, with only a stop on the way to leave Immath's straps on that work table. When he does appear on the ledge, it's with Arekoth's straps over his shoulder, held by one hand, while the other does indeed have one of those low-backed chairs. The brownrider moves right on up behind the greenrider, thumping down the piece of furniture, and holding out the straps for inspection. No words.

She can tell - by the sound of the leather - what he's holding. She does not turn, nor does she look. "Well it's no point showing me. I can't exactly fix them on my own right now, so I'll simply have to trust you know what you're doing and don't intend to sabotage them. I've done the whole people-trying-to-kill-me thing. Not interested again." She coils her right arm back, throwing the stone out into the open space. Far. With a good spiral.

"I've no plans to take anyone's life, let alone a dragonrider's," H'kon states with a dark seriousnes. The man's eyebrows have descended low, and a frown tugs down the corners of his lips. The rock is watched on its way with that same expression, though no sooner than it's gone from sight, the brownrider has pinned that glacial gaze back on his former wingmate. "Now do you wish to see my work or not?"

"I'll trust you." She says, voice taking on a flat tone that almost mimics his. Whether is purposeful mockery or if he's, in fact, pushed her into a mood to warrant such a tone is unclear. She curls her right leg up, threading fingers around her knee and leaning back.

The straps are drawn back in toward him, slung up over his shoulder again, and the brownrider bobs his head. "Well be certain. You have proven fickle so far." He sends a glance back toward the entrance to his weyr, near which Arekoth is now waiting, no doubt at unspoken behest. "Will you be waiting here, then? Should I leave the chair?"

"I'm all right, here." She says, voice calm. "Sunset'll keep me company." Since he won't. The big grump. Immath pulls in a deep breath and lets it out, intentionally over the top of the man's head. To Arekoth, the green simply asks << Does yours always act like this? >> She angles her head so one faceted eye focuses on the brown.

H'kon looks up, irritated, as the green's breath is felt. It's not right to say his hair is ruffled; he's cut it too short for that to be the case. "I will leave it anyway. Lest you change your mind on that, as well." And then it's back toward the weyr. Until he finds Arekoth blocking his path. And stops short. << Mostly. >> The brown swings his head slowly to take in that green. << If you ask me, I'll make him act nicer. >>

The green's angular face turns a little further, facing Arekoth fully. << I would not mind. And I believe Mine would not mind, either. It is up to you. I would not want unrest between you and yours, of course. >> She says, head tilting to the side. Tavaly, for her part, continues staring out over the vast Weyr as one of the early-evening's cold breezes comes raking up the high edges of the bowl.

<< Unrest is good for him, >> Arekoth decides, with all too much joviality to be felt in that voice. And so H'kon's way stays barred, and the brownrider, after a good minute of glaring after his lifemate, turns back around and stomps toward the greenrider. "Two-c didn't fly today," is, grudgingly, pushed out from his lips. It still manages to sound like a demand.

"R'vain has placed me in three-cee upon my return to the Weyr." Tavaly says. Of course, in front of him and his attitude, she would assume that he's trying to call her out on something. "Three-cee flew today. And if you're irritated that two-cee did not, you may want to take that up with R'vain. I have little control over which wings actually see 'fall." So don't take it out on me, is implied, but not said. She does not face the man, still the Weyrbowl. Immath continues to look at Arekoth, her thoughts suddenly appreciative, and amused. << I like the way you think. >> The green offers.

"I see." A backward glance to his dragon finds Arekoth canting his head to look terrifically cute, right back at his rider. H'kon looks back to the greenrider. Arekoth looks back to the green. "We have flown recently," is replied quickly. The straps are let fall fully to his hand, and he sets to brushing the up against his leg in an idle fidget. << I like that you like it. Bet there's other things we'll end up liking about each other, too. >> The briefest pause prompts, << You ever hear about why the wherry crossed the bowl? >>

"So I read. Had a good 'fall. My congratulations." Aside from the one today, her last 'fall wasn't so good. It is, perhaps, this thought that gives her reason to tighten her left hand until the leather creaks on it. While he won't see it, while her face, to him, looks like it's watching the Bowl, her eyes are sideways, somewhat narrowed. First he snubs her now he wants conversation? /Men/. Immath, in the meantime, has taken a cue from her rider. Suspicious, but willing to give in to conversation. << Possibly. >> She says cautiously. And then, << No. I haven't. Why would a wherry cross the bowl? >>

"Huh," is responded to those congratulations, and for the time, H'kon is well out of words. Another glance over to his dragon, this one helpless. Hopefully Tavaly is still looking at the bowl. Arekoth is in no mood to offer the stocky little brownrider pointers, alas. He's busy twitching his wings in delight, a good-humoured, << To get to the other side! >> shot out to this green. The caution, if it's noticed, is apparently ignored.

No such luck. Tav's turned her head enough to catch a glimpse of the man, noticing the entrance blocked by a big, brown body. Huh. Like dragon, like rider. Both females are looking over their shoulder at the male pair. << ..did the wherry get eaten? >> Is what Immath wants to know, her head canting in the other direction, curious. Caution, like leaves, thrown to the wind. Tav, for her part, merely stares at H'kon with a blank, confused expression.

H'kon swaps the straps to his other hand, and sets to letting them brush up against his other leg as that other arm is set into motion. Tavaly's confused look is met with a more exasperated expression. His stance widens a bit. Settling in for the long haul. Arekoth, meanwhile, has taken a slight step forward, now blocking the way all the more. And being closer to Immath. << Eaten? Of course. >> The dragon opens his mouth now, to reveal his teeth. << By me. >>

<< Did you step on it first? >> She asks, advancing a step herself. A small shuffle, really, but still. It also works to block H'kon's weyr off. She, however, is completely oblivious to the fact. Tav notes the expression chiseled upon H'kon's features and lowers her gaze, turning away and out toward the bowl just in time for another of those biting cold gusts of air to hit her full in the face. She waits until it passes before pulling her collar up around her neck, securing the last few buttons. Bothersome rassum frassum.. << Did you eat it whole? The feathers couldn't have tasted good..>>

Arekoth gives a proper snort, all the while tilting his head to offer that same cutesy look to Immath, though making sure to keep himself tall, generally playing up the difference is size. << I did not have to step on it. I caught it at once. And ripped it open, and ate its insides. It had no time to react. >> Sweet nothings. H'kon, for his part, is finally tired of waiting. "Perhaps if /you/ requested, he would let me get to work. I could get the straps to you tomorrow, if you would rather not wait tonight."

"That would require me to ride Immath down bareback. Were I in a better state to do such, I would agree. He's your dragon. Why is he blocking your weyr?" She asks, still staring out on the bowl. << A deft act. Surely, you must be a fine hunter. >> The green offers, then looks toward her rider as she pushes herself back up into a standing position. It's difficult, as her left leg doesn't quite feel like cooperating. "I'll take them back, then. I'll just fix them myself. Forgive me for wasting your time. I should not have come." She says, turning to face the man with casually lidded eyes, the wintry blue beneath.. well, cold.

"No, I... will fix them for you." Any indecision is gone following that hesitation, and the straps at his side are stilled. H'kon marches right on over to the chair he'd set out, grabbing firm hold of it. "He... wishes for me to socialise, I believe. Perhaps if /you/ were to explain to him that I need to go inside." Arekoth all but preens beneath the praise from the green, rustling his wings again, and holding them out just a bit from his body. << A very fine hunter. If we hunt together one day, I'll show you. You must be a good hunter too, surely? >>

<< Absolutely. >> Dragons never lie, after all. << I hunt well. Perhaps someday I will take you to where the beasts run free. They are fun to scatter. Easier to find the best when they're all spread out over a plain. >> She replies, neck craning, chin lowering slightly. A proud, almost swan-like posture. "Or you could appease your dragon." Tavaly says. "Either way, he's /your/ lifemate. Surely a man of your stunning socializing skills should be able to sweet talk his own brown into letting him back into his weyr. Can't possibly need my help. After all, you do your work alone, right?"

<< You certainly must take me there. >> Arekoth inches his way a bit closer to Immath, that swan posture not at all wasted on him. << Though the ones here go into a panic. They scatter and regroup quickly, it can be done many times. >> "Well your dragon is blocking the way too, now," H'kon points out with a near childlike petulance. "And you will not get off my ledge if I do not have the chance to do the work. It is in my weyr."

"You think so, do you?" Immath turns her head from the brown to her rider, a slight yellow twinge in the contented bluegreen of her facets. Compliant, however, the green strides forward, head bowing down along with the bend of her neck. There are ridges there, and it is those last two before neck becomes shoulder that Tav crawls into, straddling the bare neck of the green. << Yours certainly knows how to stir her ire. >> The green comments, idly. Not offended, simply observant.

H'kon snorts as the greenrider goes to her lifemate, following from behind, with both chair and straps still in hand. "Do not fall off," is warned, as more or less a command. The brownrider's chin tilts down toward his chest, just a touch. "I will work quickly. Where would you have me bring them?" Arekoth, for his part, stretches his own neck forward to offer a gentle whuffle toward the green. << He has many skills. That is one of them. Will you be returning? >>

"If I do, I'm telling my Wingleader it's all your fault. In fact, I think I'll tell him you pushed me off." She teases, smirking at the grouchy fellow below. Immath raises her head slowly, knowing full well this is not at all something she should be doing. << Perhaps. >> The green replies. << You do not always need to be /here/, do you? >> "Have Arekoth bring them to the South bowl weyrs. Mine is one of the upper ones." Tav says, steadying herself. From the satchel she keeps, she withdraws a long, thin strap, dropping it down one side of the green's neck. With a nudge from a talon, the other side is brought up and clasped in Tav's hand. She holds onto it. Tight. Immath does not seem to mind. << Until then. >>

"Southern bowl," is repeated. "We will be there before morning. Do /not/ fall," added once more as he stares right back up at the mounted rider, with a degree more authority. Icy eyes are narrowed to her, and then he's stepping up alongside Arekoth, to ensure Tavaly and Immath have a clean escape. << I'd rather be wherever you want me to be, >> the brown promises in parting, a croon juxtaposed with H'kon's glowering.

With a flick of the tail that, by some standards, may be considered a tad scandalous, the green opens her wings. No leap, no daredevil drop. Now is not such a time. For now, she glides. Glides nice and even, Tav's arms holding tight the strap about her lifemate's neck as they disappear over the bowl and out of site after a while.

With Tavaly and Immath off his ledge, H'kon turns his attention to the more pressing matter at hand: that of moving his dragon. Arekoth, for his part, is unashamed to watch the green's departure for a slong as she's within viewing range of the ledge. Finally, with a physical shove from his shoulder, H'kon is able to dislodge that brown. Though Tavaly surely is too far to hear it, there is indeed a grumble of, "I hate you," before the man disappears into his weyr to see to those straps.