The Smell of Cold (Darkaire)

[darkaire]

Had the young bronzerider seen the other Weyrling's expression, he would have loved it. It was looks like that, looks of shock and disbelief, that reassured himself that he still had the influence he'd had back in his Hold. It wouldn't have been a complete day back then had he not gotten at least three of those looks. Of course, he had been much worse back in the Hold, as he was the son of the Holder and thus allowed to do whatever he wanted with confidence that there would be no punishment involved. Not that punishment here put a damper on anything he did, but he was almost docile compared to how he used to act. It had something to do with his brother, but no one knew that even in a general sense.

His expression shifted minutely at the Weyrling Master's words, losing a touch of the smirk in order to turn his lips down in annoyance. D'leon hadn't expected the normally mild-mannered rider to come back at him with something like that. It made this experience less enjoyable, really. He pursed his lips slightly and made no movement to follow the order. Orders were never well received with him.

Then again, if he didn't move, that could be more opportunity for punishment. Resisting arrest or something like that. D'leon tilted his head in open defiance - as if he wasn't defiant enough to begin with - and regained his light smirk. "But dearest Lan'ae," his voice had taken on that smooth quality he normally used on females, and quite frankly it would have creeped out K'sah to hear him say the Weyrling Master's name like that, "If I went to your office, I wouldn't be in my 'crib' like you said I should be." Oh sure, Lan'ae had made it very clear that it was an order, but that didn't mean he had to follow it. Myeth rumbled a bit unhappily, finally starting to understand that he should somehow convince His to go with the Weyrling Master. But he wasn't entirely convinced yet.

[effluo]

G’eph was not the only one surprised at the new tone of D’leon’s voice as he spoke Lan’ae’s name, but the Weyrling Master showed no sign of being disturbed – his own personality that had won him a bronze so many turns ago beginning to take hold on his now, much more docile self. While he did not give D’leon a reaction he may have been looking for, the older man could not help but find his infinite patience beginning to be tested.

“D’leon, don’t act smart with me. Go to my office or I will drag you there by force. That is an order, not a suggestion.” While the tone of his voice remained commanding, it was clear that he was already being pushed and he didn’t like it. A rumble could be felt through the floor as Lan’ae’s bronze – only a stone wall away in his own weyr – reflected his rider’s unhappiness with the situation.

“After all, I would hate to have to add to your colorful face.” He added as an after thought. Perhaps, if the stubborn boy would put away his games long enough to listen with common sense the Weyrling Master would send his daughter to fetch some ice from her mother.

G’eph, after listening a moment, decided to continue to the Weyrling Master’s office after feeling the soft rumble. God, would Vanarth grow large enough to send tremors through the stone as well? Either way, he did not want that dragon upset with him.

Upon entering the room, he was surprised to see the little girl sitting at the desk kicking her legs. Saying nothing, he sat down in one of the two chairs across from the desk. Anistora stopped her kicking to study the sailor for a moment before continuing her little hum and kicking her feet as she waited for her father to return.

[darkaire]

D'leon scowled openly at the Weyrling Master, obviously not at all put off by his words. No, not the words. "Oh, I know it's an order," he started, but it was unclear as to what he was going to follow it up with, due largely in part to the way the wall behind him vibrated with Eznorth's unhappy rumble. Feeling that vibration in his spine was enough to make him take a step away from the wall quickly, twisting his head slightly to peer at it suspiciously. He didn't doubt that Lan'ae would have that bronze brute swallow him. Any normal person would have doubted it, but it was a tactic D'leon would have had no problem using, so it was completely viable in his mind.

Realizing he'd already taken a step in the direction the Weyrling Master wanted him to, he turned his gaze on the man. He narrowed his eyes and tipped his chin up defiantly. There was no way he could cover what he'd already done, so he grudgingly brushed past the other - taking care to try to bump their shoulders as he did so - to walk out into the hall. "I'm sure you'll get another chance," he growled slightly, referring to the other's earlier comment about adding to his colorful face. He sniffed lightly and pressed his fingers to his jaw. The Weyrling winced, and covered it with another scowl.

"I don't have to act smart," he mumbled to himself, words further slurred by the way he was still prodding at the bruises on his face. Without looking at the Weyrling Master, he stomped into the man's office. Rather than taking a seat, he leaned against the wall to the side of the door, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the little girl in the room. He hated children almost as much as he hated...well...things.