The Smell of Cold (Darkaire)

[effluo]

G’eph walked into the barracks even as he brushed the snow off his closely cut hair. He really needed to find a hat of some form. Having a ‘buzz’ cut was typical among sailors and G’eph had been encouraged to keep it after impression, told that it would be more comfortable under a riding helmet. Even so the sailor, who was use to much warmer weather, could not help but shiver as the snow continued to coat the top of his head.

Now inside, he made his way to his bunk next to one of the number of stone couches in this wing. It seemed the Barracks had a number of wings for the different classes and even three or four areas for each individual class. One wing set aside for the female riders while the other two (sometimes three) were for the males.

He found this wing nearly empty of other riders but full of growing hatchlings with only one or two not fast asleep. Finding his brown Vanarth asleep, G’eph took off the heavy coat he had been given and shook the snow off it before hanging it on the post of his bed and sitting next to the brown.

You smell of the cold.
“I thought you were asleep.” G’eph replied softly with a smile as he put a hand on the little brown head, caressing it gently. “And yes, I suppose I would, its cold outside with the snow falling.”

The little brown did not reply again, but the sailor didn’t mind, enjoying the silent moments just as much as the conversations he had with the brown when others were not around.

[darkaire]

The silence was not destined to last long, as a peal of delighted laughter rang down the hall, loud enough to be heard in the Weyrling's Barracks. Also loud enough to hear was the frustrated yelling of a tiny greenrider. "Where do you get off? Can't you leave me alone for just one day? One day!" the normally passive boy had had quite enough of his brother's attentions, and whatever the bronzerider had just done had apparently crossed the line. Whatever the elder's repsonse happened to be was too quiet, probably murmured into the other's ear. That always made K'sah shudder and shove him away, which is why he did it.

There was a slap, and then a deep, throaty laugh. A red-face K'sah stamped into the Barracks, keeping his eyes honed on the ground. He was completely soaked, icy water dripping from his too-long hair to trail down his nose and fall to the ground. He was shivering violently, but refused to run.

The silence never did last long around these two.

D'leon followed him in, one hand on his face, a few red marks peeking from under it. Obvious enough indication that he had been slapped, and was still laughing over it. The bronzerider was dry, except for the dusting of snow that tended to cover everyone these days.

K'sah glared at him weakly as he dragged the top blanket off his bunk and wrapped it around himself. He didn't bother to change clothes, as there were other people in the room, and he was a bit of a prude. D'lion knew that, and so chuckled more. Only after the little greenrider had sunk into his bed and refused to meet his gaze did he glance around. It had been a while since he'd been in here, or really, since he'd been allowed. He spotted the sailor boy - why couldn't he ever remember his name? Oh yes, because he didn't care to - and smirked at him. He didn't care what he thought, but was getting tired of teasing his brother. It was too easy.

Neither of their dragons were to be seen yet, though it was almost certain they were not far behind, arguing the most absurd thing as loudly as they could.

[effluo]

G’eph let out a sigh, not bothering to look up just yet as the silence was broken. Caressing the brown head a moment longer, the sailor was content in knowing that his dragon had fallen asleep once more before finally looking to the pair that had entered the room. His sigh deepened.

While he had arrived just before the hatching, and so did not know much of the history of the other weyrlings, he had been here more than long enough now to notice that these two obviously had something against each other. In fact, out of all the weyrlings, G’eph couldn’t help but find himself not enjoying the time he spent around either of them. The younger of the two never stood up for himself – which G’eph had been raised to see as a major weakness – while the other never let up on the tormenting, whether it was the smaller weyrling who was his target or some other person.

G’eph had never had a love for people and because of such he had always been quick to anger. Since coming to the Weyr, he had managed well enough to pass the lessons with minimal words spoken and spend his extra time with only one or two others – mostly due to his dragons encouragement. Even so, G’eph could not help but have his temper pushed whenever these two were around and more often than not he’d leave the room silently just to be rid of them.

Today, however, he was not in the mood to simply give up his position and move to another location. It was shard’n cold outside and he couldn’t help but enjoy the idea of a nap with his brown next to the warmth of the fire.

“Idiots.” He mumbled under his breath as he bent over, his eyes fixed upon the laces of his heavy boots as he began to undo the laces. Perhaps he would get lucky and they would leave, or at least one would leave and the other would shut their maw. Yeah, that would work too, but G’eph knew that’d be unlikely with this pair.

[darkaire]

As amusing as a shivering and potentially sick greenrider was, it barely held any weight against a sea-mutt with an attitude. D'leon might have lept for joy had he not had more assumed dignity than that. Instead, he opted for an unusually coy smile and fluttered his eyes towards the floor. His hands clasped behind his back, assuming a feminine stance.

"Oh really, brownrider, you mustn't flatter me like that," he breathed in delight, loud enough to be heard in the almost-silent room. The bronzerider took a few deliberate steps closer, eyes trained on the back of the other's head as he worked at his laces. His own boots clicked formally against the stone floor in a developed movement, the sound stopping abruptly as he did. D'leon leaned over, leveling their heads to give the sailor a loose smile. "You might give me the wrong impression with your sugar-sweet words."

K'sah sneezed - or was that a snort of laughter? - and huddled further into the blanket. Who spoke like that? He didn't know anyone else who was as shameless as the bronzerider. So his brother had found a new target. Bravo. The greenrider chanced a look at the newest toy and gave him a slight nod, whether he was looking or not. At least his brother hadn't chosen a girl to pick on this time. With the attention off him, he stood and moved into the bathing room to change.

D'leon glanced after his brother but didn't bother stopping him. If he was going to get sick, he would have already been so by now. Walking around in the freezing wind after being shoved into a frozen Lake...yeah. It got people sick.

[effluo]

At the sound of his words, G’eph frowned, his eyes narrowing as his quick temper rose. Finishing untying his boots, he pulled them off before finally looking up at D’leon with an unfriendly look on his face. It was the mention of ‘sugar-sweet words’ that stopped G’eph’s half thought of going to the common room, a trip that wouldn’t have taken him back outside into the cold.

Slowly, G’eph stood from the bed and as he did so, the face that had originally had to look up at the nearly six foot man was soon looking down on him with a good five inches in the height difference.

“Don’t test me, Bronzerider.” The last word came out a sneer, but G’eph’s attention had been stolen by a snort coming from the other boy. Seeing the nod from the boy who never stood up to himself, at least not by what the sailor had seen, G’eph gave him a glare as well. He really couldn’t tell if the nod was a way of saying thank you or a way of approving D’leon’s choice of a target. Either way it just added to the slowly tipping scale.

[darkaire]

"Oh, so the mutt does know how to speak! What a good trick that is. Do you know how to sit and beg, too?" he hissed, temper instantly tickled. Well, prodded. Normally he would have taken longer to rile to that point, but once the other had stood, that was more than enough to set D'leon off. He hated having to tilt his neck back to see someone, especially if that someone was ranked lower than he was. And pretty much everyone else in the Weyr was ranked lower than he was, save for the other bronzes and golds. Really though, he considered himself above the golds, as it was women who rode them.

D'leon had never actually heard the brownrider speak, due mostly to the fact that he never paid him any attention. K'sah was smart enough to know that he would know how to speak, and so just rolled his eyes at his brother's comment. The greenrider was much more assured when apart from the other, but he was still too close to feel comfortable. Even after he'd quickly peeled off the wet clothes in favor of dry, warm ones, he lingered in the bathing room, not ready to go back out there yet.

[effluo]

G’eph’s eyes only grew narrower at the bronze riders words. While the sailor knew he did not come from any form of prosperous family and had never been bothered by it, the way D’leon spoke to him now prodded an old wound he had not felt since leaving his own mother behind to better himself.

Instantly the sailors vice-like grip was clutched around the shorter man’s collar. G’eph himself had found it hard to believe that D’leon could bully others the way he did, his body not looking half as strong as he could be. Because of such, he may have underestimated the bronze rider just now, but the sailor didn’t care. He was ticked.

“Be careful kid this mutt bites. I don’t care if you ride a bronze dragon or not, your only worth looking down upon.”

While D’leon might have judged people by their rank, or the rank of their dragon, G’eph had come from a ship where there was no rank; just a crew who got the work done. Even the captain had never taken a larger share of the profit than any other member of the crew. G’eph had little feelings for rank and with the exception of the unnerved feeling he found around any gold dragon or their rider, he seen all riders at an equal standing.

The teacher will be upset with you.

The comment made silently by his brown had G’eph’s hand tightening momentarily before releasing the cloth all together. No, just as he had said, this bronze rider was not worth it. He had come this far and worked this hard to fit into the Weyr. He was not ready to screw it up.

[darkaire]

D'leon hadn't expected any particular reaction from the brownrider, having received too many different ones from others to really distinguish a difference anymore. But even so, the boy was nearly dizzy with delight when his collar twisted around his neck, eliciting a small gasp. He didn't bother to try to get away, or even raise a hand to make better room for breathing - not that the fabric was cutting off his breathing - the bronzerider just stood there, still grinning up into the other's face. Though that grin faltered visibly once G'eph finished speaking.

"Oh, how clever," he gritted out, the last syllable pitched a little higher, as that was when the brownrider twisted harder. But release came with it, and D'leon pressed his fingers lightly to his throat. No bruising, and it didn't really hurt. He fixed his collar as he continued speaking.

"I'd say you've got a good start on looking down," his grin was gone, facial expressions changing as rapidly as his moods. He'd already glanced over the other, and found him to be not just bigger, but probably stronger than himself. It was hard to quell the need to swing a punch, but he knew he wouldn't win against the sailor. Didn't stop him from wanting to try.

What did stop him was the greenrider's re-entry into the room, moving to drape his wet clothes near his bunk. D'leon followed his movements for a moment, ignoring the brownrider to do so. K'sah glanced back, made a face and suddenly found his task far more interesting than anything else in the room. He didn't want trouble, and wasn't going to provoke it.

"Hm. So you bite, eh?" the bronzerider spoke up, though his eyes were still on his brother. The way he stood, face turned away, was like he was almost inviting the other to support that statement. D'leon's eyes flicked to the side, eyeing him from his peripherial. "Can't say I believe you, sorry. Must be your pedigree. A proper man would have hit me by now." His grin was back, and it was turned full force on the brownrider, as if he knew he wasn't going to get punched.

[effluo]

If what D’leon was looking for was an easily angered toy, he was not going to be disappointed in G’eph. Despite the time he had spent thus far in the Weyr in the company of more people than he had known in his whole life, the sailor was soon reminded why he had chosen his original profession. It was D’leon who reminded him why he disliked people in general.

’a proper man’ The words rang through his head loudly, stinging him and making his brown’s head finally lift from its couch in concern.

G’eph don’t! It was already too late.

G’eph’s hand, already folded in a fist, meet with D’leon’s cheek as he turned to grin at the lower ranked rider. It wasn’t full force as Vanarth’s cry had made him hesitate at the last second, but the feel of the contact made the seasoned sailor feel better. At the moment he didn’t care how much trouble he’d get in, if the younger man was going to keep running his mouth G’eph was going to beat the shard out of him.

[darkaire]

In fact, that was exactly what D'leon had been searching for. He'd been disappointed when the only person to really rise to his taunts had Impressed Gold, thus making it impossible for him to get close enough to start anything with her. Such a shame - Neory had shown promise in their encounter, too. It would have been great fun to have a female to push around and fight with. However, his thoughts were stopped there by another, more convincing argument.

D'leon stumbled back, hand already pressed to the hurting side of his face. Oh sure, it hurt, but the giddy joy he felt over being hit was far stronger. The grin had faltered when he'd been punched, but it blossomed again, perhaps bigger now. Like most normal people, the bronzerider didn't enjoy being hit; rather, he liked the idea that he'd gotten on someone's nerves. He'd made the other angry enough to retaliate physically, and that was reason enough for him to grin.

"No wonder you Impressed a Brown," he began, stepping over his words, choosing them carefully. "You're so good at obeying orders, like any good Brownrider. I told you to punch me, and so you did."

D'leon rubbed at his cheek, fingers prodding into it with little care. He winced slightly, feeling the oncoming bruise. It'd be a pretty color, but... "Surely that wasn't the best you've got," he couldn't help but taunt, even if it earned him another hit. Getting that reaction was worth it. "I'd think a big, hulking mutt like you could knock me over if you really tried."

K'sah rolled his eyes and finished hanging his clothes, using his brother's distraction to slip away. He wasn't going to find help, no. He was probably going to go find a certain other brownrider and stare at him from afar. The greenrider wasn't the most helpful person. He passed his Green on the way, who gladly left Myeth to join Hers. But Myeth was slow, and likely wouldn't make an appearance for another little while.

[effluo]

The taller man could not help but fall prey to the taunts directed toward him, unable to keep the blood from rushing as D’leon fed the fire more. If the bronze rider himself didn’t anger G’eph enough, the realization that he /had/ punched him after being told to certainly did the job. No, G’eph was his own man and he wouldn’t take orders from someone like D’leon.

“Why you wherry-brained…” he didn’t bother finishing the sentence after the shorter young man finished his comment about a ‘big hulking mutt’ and simply shoved him roughly toward the stone wall near them. It was shortly followed by an uppercut.

G’eph, you really shouldn’t…
“Shut up Vanarth.”

The short snap was followed by another quick punch only to be quickly regretted as G’eph felt his dragon’s disappointment at the retort. His stomach twisted as his dragon became completely silent, only making the sailor want to beat his fellow rider more. If he hadn’t of been angry he wouldn’t have snapped at the little brown.


(((Sorry for being horrible, I'm a little out of it, but I wanted to get a post up for you before I hit the sack.)))

[darkaire]

((( I just assumed that all the hits were to his face. If they weren't, let me know and I'll revise it. >> )))

D'leon just grinned at those few words the other issued, this time more prepared to take the shove and those hits. Odd that he hadn't retaliated other than verbally. Was he planning something? Perhaps; his brother wouldn't put it past him to hold the events over the other's head later. After all, hitting another Weyrling was a worse offense than taunting one. He'd learned that one the hard way. Too bad he'd still be punished just as harshly as if he had hit the other - his reputation was enough to land him a horrid punishment just for looking at someone the wrong way.

When his back hit the wall, his hands moved to half-catch himself so that he kept his feet and prevented a nasty bruise along his shoulder blades. It hadn't caught him off-guard, and he just kept grinning, not at all put off by a shove. Of course, that uppercut was a different matter entirely, and the bronzerider swore colorfully, a hand moving to cup his jaw at the taste of blood. His nose wrinkled, last swear slurred before he let the blood pool onto his tongue and swallowed it. The effort wasn't quite completed as he heard words from G'eph and felt his fist once more. He choked on his swallow, and had to struggle a moment to make sure it went down. And then another moment of mutual silence while he composed himself.

Well, he tried to compose himself anyway, but couldn't help the laugh that slipped from his lips. It sounded close to a giggle, but then shifted quickly into a full laugh, one that complimented and showed his deeper toned voice better. His head tipped lazily to the side, hand still pressed to the side of his face that had received the punch, eyes nearly dancing with something odd and probably a little creepy. Come on, who on Pern was happy to get beaten? Because beaten he would be. While D'leon sported enough muscle to be a bully, he was far below the other's physique.

He sucked in a breath and assumed a more comfortable position against the wall, trailing his fingers off his jaw to dangle at his side for a moment, and then cross over his chest. "Okay, so you have some brawn, but doesn't seem like you have the smarts to go with it," his words were smooth, pooling into the air like oil might seep into a puddle of previously clean water. They were pollution, showing that although he had Impressed, gaining a dragon had done nothing to mellow him out. If anything, it only made him more vicious. "A real leader doesn't take orders, and certainly doesn't go around punching people."

Another breath and a larger gin preceeded his final statement, if the brownrider even let him get to it. "And a real dragonrider knows that he doesn't have to speak aloud to his own dragon." Oh, he'd heard him talk to his brown just before that last punch, and he'd nearly laughed himself dizzy. It hadn't been all that had made him laugh, but it had certainly started that first giggle.

Myeth's head appeared in the door frame before his body did, but the coppery-bronze took little time to heft himself into the room proper and lumber over to the first empty stone couch he saw. It didn't matter that it wasn't his, he wanted it and so he curled up on it. He looked a bit funny lumbering like that, really, and even D'leon wasn't sure why he'd started walking like that. The little bronze - would he even be bigger than Vanarth? his rider wondered - ignored them, not finding anything alarming about the metallic taste in his rider's mouth, or the pretty purple blossoming on his face.

[effluo]

D’leon’s shirt was found clutched in the sailors vice-like grip – a grip born from the storms at sea – as G’eph pushed him back against the wall once again. Holding him there, the brown rider glared at the other attempting refrain from hitting him again – the silence of his dragon was being felt.

“Don’t. Just don’t. Just shut the fall up and get the fall out’a here.” Releasing the man, G’eph let his glare linger on him a moment longer before turning his back to the boy who hadn’t bothered fighting back to give an apologetic look at his brown.

“I’m sorry Vanarth… I didn’t mean it.”
Yes you did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anistora, who had been playing quietly within the common room, now widened her eyes at the sight she found after investigating the strange noises coming from this particular wing of the Weyrling barracks. It wasn't nice for that big man to hit the smaller one! She was going to fix it. In a flash she was gone again, the little thumps of the tiny eight turn old barely audible.

"Daddy! Daddy!" she spoke franticly as she rushed into her father's office to tug on his sleeve. "People are fighting, I don't want anyone to get hurt!"

Putting his quill down, Lan'ae was on his feet instantly. "Where?"

"In the right doorway, I'll so you." Just as she turned around Lan'ae picked her up and plopped her into his chair.

"No you stay here, Anistora. Understood?"
"Yes papa."

It was a matter of seconds he rounded the corner to find only two present within the barracks; G'eph and D'leon. It didn't surprise him that D'leon was involved. What did surprise him was that it was easy to tell, even with a short glance, that D'leon had found someone who stood up for themselves.

"What's going on in here?" he demanded, not exactly in an angry tone, but one that clearly said that he was being serious.

Upon the arrival of the Weyrling Master, G'eph had turned back around but he did not reply to the question right away.

You shouldn't have hit him. Now you're going to be in trouble.

[darkaire]

Again there was no fear from the bronzerider as his back was forced against the wall again. His head tipped back to offer a gloating smile to the taller rider, wincing only slightly as his shoulderblade found a rough spot in the wall again. "Don't what?" he breathed with anticipation, but received no answer other than the back of the brownrider. He huffed at that and let his eyes close, fingers probing at his face. Shards, he'd look colorful for a while.

His eyes opened again at the sound of a voice he'd been half-hoping to hear. For a moment he had nothing to say, realizing that even if he hadn't goaded the other with words, Lan'ae would probably still think it was his fault. So in D'leon's mind, it was good he had been the instigator, as he hated to receive punishment for something he wasn't responsible for.

Much like he'd handled the situation with Neory before Impression, the bronzerider smiled languidly at the Weyrling Master. "What does it look like, old man? Don't look so surprised - or did V'nes-" he never did use their formal titles unless it was to taunt them, "not tell you about my tendencies?"

You make it sound like it's entirely your doing, Myeth commented dully, shifting to peer at His. Well, I wouldn't want my reputation to die, would I? was the rider's only return comment. He did have an image to uphold. He may have been punched well a few times, but he'd still managed to make G'eph do it.

[effluo]

G’eph’s mouth dropped open in complete shock that even D’leon – who lacked respect for any of his peers – would call the Weyrling Master an old man. Sure he was one of the older riders G’eph had seen, but if anything that should have demanded more respect from the students. He did not, however, loose his gawking expression as Lan’ae surprised him as well.

“It looks like two baby’s who need a time out in their crib.” The much older bronzerider replied back before pointing back the way he had come. “To my office. Now.” His voice left no question that it was an order, not an offer.

The brownrider glanced at D'leon before moving where the Weyrling master had indicated. Shards, why did D'leon have to push him this far, who knew what the Weyrling Master, who had seemed very easy going until now, would decide was worthy punishment for them?

I don't like him either. Vanarth sent as he watched his move out of his sight, wondering if he should follow or go back to sleep.