Slipping & Sliding [Rylvan]

[Symphony]

All things considered, it wasn't a bad injury. K'lir had certainly endured worse. At twenty-six, he'd been in many Falls, experienced many flights (his green, being her color, rose often enough to see to it that he was anything but inexperienced), and one small sprained ankle was not going to kill him. That did not mean that K'lir liked it, no, no, the dark-haired man was very irritated and he hurt and ow. So it was that he sat down with his leg propped up against one of the rocks, rubbing the swollen ankle, his expression pained. His own fault, though, for swimming in the river and not the pond. He'd managed to sprain his ankle climbing out onto the rocks that were built up to try and minimize the flooding. He'd brought it on himself, but that didn't mean he had to admit that to anyone, even himself.

K'lir did not like people. He never had, and he never would. So it was that when many of the Weyr was out and about, milling around the pond, K'lir had jumped head first into the river. The water as not quite as fast-paced in his spot, and he was able to bask without too much trouble. Just in case, Tsakyyth had perched high up on the rocks, her dark green hide prominent against the pale stones. If he started to drift, she would catch him and pull him back. Seemed like a plan, didn't it? Sitting in that spot, or rather swimming there, kept the chances of him being disturbed to a minimum. Not many would dare brave the scalloped rocks and the fast pace of the river below. No, it was dangerous, and K'lir was reckless enough to risk it but he was one of the few.

The plan worked marvelously, until it came time for him to get out. He'd climbed up the rocks and pulled on his leggings before slipping onto his ankle, then he landed on top of it with throbbing pains shooting up his legs at fast enough speeds that only luck kept K'lir from screaming in surprise. He wasn't hurt that bad but it had caught him off guard.

He was currently sulking, sitting topless on the edges of the rock barricade of the river, his hands moving over his swollen ankle. Tsakyyth sat next to him, observing but not helping. She was not a hatchling and K'lir had been bonded to her long enough to know that his green did not seek out others to help them and she did not offer him help unless he asked it of her. It wasn't meant as unfriendly, just that Tsakyyth tended to be very self-serving; he loved her beyond words despite it and anyway he didn't think there was anything she could do. It was his own fault, really, for climbing around on the rocks. Sanctum's winters were harsh and he shouldn't have been swimming like that anyway. The water was cold. K'lir did not care; he liked water and it had cost him. Figured.

Will we head back and fix your ankle, Lirlove?
Not yet.
Then there's something I think you should know.
Hmmm?
There is a candidate coming.

[Rylvan]

The daylight hours paired with the nearly flat, featureless stone of the land with little to no trace of vegetation provided no means of escape from being noticed. Rylvan reflected on this problem as he walked alongside the turbulent river. Each step was careful, graceful and nearly silent as he actively tried to avoid drawing attention to himself in such open terrain. Slipping unnoticed past people was a simple task, but dragons were an entirely different problem. Rylvan found, that as long as he did not behave suspiciously or linger more than a few fleeting moments, they tended to ignore him. Most of them anyway. The former thief admitted that the night was his true time. Much easier to prowl past those sleeping giants and weryfolk; at least.. until the night watcher easily spotted him outside of the caverns. Ah, but Rylvan would find a way over time and practice by using the 'friendly' territory of the Weyr.

The unmistakable sound of something or someone caught Rylvan's attention. His footsteps slowed to a near halt and his ears intently listened and his eyes quickly swept over the area. They rested finally on the green dragon up on the rocks. Her color made it easy for him to locate her, and Rylvan couldn't help but feel she was some sort of sentry--and that he had been spotted. A slight frown marred the youth's features as he lowered his gaze to seek out the rider of the beautiful green. It only took a few more steps along the river before the person in question came into sight; long, wet hair and bare skinned back..

The man, clearly so by the lack of certain would be exposed curves, appeared to be nursing his ankle. Rylvan looked past him to study the river. It intrigued him to know that not all of the river was unfriendly to people. Although, the water must have been cold, at least in comparison to the warm lake near the Weyr. Not even slightly curious about the stranger, or the reason why the pair was there to being with, Rylvan took one last glance at them both before continuing on his exploratory walk.

[ooc: I tried to make it longer, but Rylvan wanted nothing to do with the situation. -pokes at him-]

[Symphony]

K'lir lifted his head and turned to look over his shoulder. His hair fell over his face, a curtain of brown falling over his face to hide some of the pale skin from view. His gaze lingered on the form walking past, so casually, and Tsakyyth slithered along the rocks, her natural on-land grace becoming more and more prominent with each movement. Her head swiveled to look at the boy, gaze critical, multi-faceted eyes whirling rapidly before settling on a pale green - which could have been amusement or hostility, though not truly anger. It was hard to tell with Tsakyyth, for all but her bonded, who did not glance back at her. K'lir's gaze was all for the person wandering close - too close for K'lir's preferences, actually, though he had no right to really judge. It wasn't like he was some place private. K'lir was like an animal in some respects, though. He was hurt and wanted no one around to see him, but someone did see, and therefore, he settled for the next best thing: anger. No one ever said K'lir was nice.

"Isn't there a candidate lesson going on right now?" K'lir said, loud enough to be heard, but not yelling, not quite. He didn't have a problem with yelling, mind. No, K'lir was very much the raise your voice and kick things if they don't go your way immediately type. But he didn't have a reason to do so... yet. Instead, he settled for a tone borderline accusing, that was usually most efficient at provoking people. He was embarrassed, yes, at having been seen while hurt, and that embarrassment manifested itself as eminent hostility. There was a reason K'lir didn't have many friends. It took a very, very amazing person to be able to get past his moodiness, and tolerate the grouchy behavior. So far, not many had accomplished it.

Of course, there wasn't a candidate lesson going on, though K'lir honestly did not know that. He was not the candidate master (and would never have been considered for the job as Liyanna was convinced that K'lir would simply feed anyone who annoyed him to Tsakyyth.) He was nothing more than a simple wingrider, though with Tsakyyth's talent in the air and in Falls, he could have been more. The problem lay in K'lir's complete inability to deal with people. He did not have the command skills to aspire to the position of Wingsecond, though with the way that Tsakyyth jumped between so fast and so efficiently, he could have held it; she had more stamina than any green and more than some blues because of all the tiny jumps. But K'lir couldn't lead people. Tsakyyth was also a very good judge of character, but K'lir was very, very nasty, and that made him ill-suited to Searches. Wingrider it was.

"You shouldn't be out this far, you know. The rain comes on very suddenly and you wouldn't have much luck getting back to the Weyr." Without a dragon, anyway. But Tsakyyth was there, and even if K'lir was hostile, if it did suddenly rain, he would have snatched the candidate up and hauled him back. That didn't stop K'lir from pretending he wouldn't have, though. Hmph. He liked that people perceived him as obnoxious. It kept down the number of people who tried to be his friend.

[Rylvan]

It was the dragon's movements, not the man's words, that caused Rylvan to lightly scuff his feet against the ground as he came to a slow halt. He did not face the rider, merely turned his head far enough to gaze back at the pair through the corners of his eyes. Rylvan did not care to answer the question, but for one reason or another, the former thief felt the dragon expected him to respond to her rider. Disrespecting a dragon seemed a very unwise thing to do..

"No, there is no lesson going on today."

His tone was flat, monotone even, and Rylvan's dull gray eyes shifted back to the barren landscape in front of him. He examined the skyline while pondering the rider's comment on the possible weather. Being caught in the rain had never bothered Rylvan. People placed far too much importance on having a place to call home; to have a roof over their head. If the weather did turn bad, Rylvan would just find a suitable crevice to wait out the worst of it. So, to K'lir's warning, Rylvan merely rolled his shoulders in a shrug that expressed his lack of concern over such a matter.

"On foot, how far is the Hold?" He asked instead, a sliver of emotion lacing into his words. Rylvan was genuinely curious, and as he turned to face the rider and dragon, the questioning glow in his once dull eyes became noticable. Whether he got an answer or not, Rylvan would make the trek back to the Hold one day. He had left his belongings there--a collection of mostly stolen goods.

[Symphony]

K'lir scoffed, gazing at the candidate with a look that made it clear he was well aware that there was no lesson going on, but by Faranth, he was not going to admit it! The boy shouldn't have been so close to the river anyway. At least, that was what he told himself, though each passing second made his temper spiral down further and further, until what was left was little more than a buzz in the back of his mind, not unlike the slight humming of bees as they flittered about. His eyebrows raised, ever-so-thoughtfully, and he brushed one strand through his dark brown hair. With the subsiding anger came a sense of curiosity, and the realization that the boy's name was not familiar to him. He was from Sanctum Hold and K'lir did not spend very much time there. In truth K'lir was born and raised at Sanctum Weyr, weyr blood in his on his father's side as far as anyone could find and his mother, though Holdbred, has never talked much of where she was before she Impressed Raeneth. Salira was a mystery in her own right. So was the boy before him.

He was a candidate as evidenced by his knots, and K'lir wondered, briefly, whether the boy expected to Impress or not. Certainly from the half-glance he'd cast Tsakyyth, he did not lack the respect due to dragons, though from the way he was practically ignoring K'lir suggested he did not think much of riders. Or maybe it was just Lir himself. He'd never exactly been good with people, particularly children, and the boy was enough younger than him that he was classified as a child.

He addressed the question with a light shrug as he leaned down to rub his ankle. "From this point, you've got five dragonlengths until you reach the pond," he began, then lifted one hand to point in the direction of the pond. "You'll come up on the near-center and you'll have to circle it, then from the opposing bank to the hold is another twenty-five dragonlengths. So I'd estimate near thirty-five dragonlength's. A day's walk to be sure, providing that the rain doesn't come and make it longer. Hard to say exactly, though. Most people take runners or go on dragonback. I haven't walked to the Hold since I was near twelve turns. For all I know my estimate is partially off. It is but a mere blink between." His hands smoothed over his ankle and he grumbled under his breath before reaching over to retrieve his shirt. It was pulled on over his torso, his hair still dripping from the water. "Candidates are supposed to go no further than the pond, though. Going back to the Hold is a good way to get your candidacy disqualified. You'd need the Weyrwoman's permission for that and she is in a ripe mood. Were you one of the candidates caught spying on the eggs?"

[Rylvan]

If the gaze was meant to make him feel inferior in any way, Rylvan did not seem to take any notice. Unperturbed by K'lir's attitude, he turned his thoughtful sight back onto the land. He honestly could not bring himself to care about what other people thought of him. Though, he would admit, it was easier for him to deal with scorn and ridicule than oh--that happy overly friendly twit that had hounded after him for a name. Such invasive behavior quickly got on Rylvan's nerves, but rudeness and hostility deflected harmlessly off of his apathetic demeanor without leaving so much as a glare in its wake..

Pond? Rylvan silently inquired while shifted his gray eyes back onto the speaking rider. He assumed the man meant the lake to which the river was connected, because the thief did not know anywhere else nearby that would remotely resemble a pond. Either way, Rylvan gave K'lir is full attention as he absorbed the images that would serve as directions to the Hold. A day's walk? That was easily done. Rylvan was actually brightening at the idea of making the trip. At least, until..

Rylan seemed to bristle then quickly snap his gaze aside upon hearing K'lir's following warning of how Candidates were not allowed to pass the lake unless they wish to face disqualification. It made him think that K'lir was subtly threatening to tattle on him for going down the river that far. Rylvan should have seen that coming; people always tended to stick their noses into someone else's business then insist on causing trouble.

Fine, Rylvan smoothed down his own aggitation while letting his gaze wander back to K'lir with disinterest. He would save the trip for another day and make sure, very sure, that no one saw him leaving. It may have been wiser to ask the Weyrwoman, but Rylvan took more to the idea of sneaking away rather than asking permission. Since when did he ever need someone's approval to do what he wanted? Never. Yet, oddly enough, Rylvan really did not want to lose his chance to impress. He had never dreamed of himself becoming a dragonrider, but now that the opportunity presented itself.. well, Rylvan gaze thoughtfully swept over the green; he was fondly attached to the idea now..

The prospect of going somewhere in the blink of an eye, through between held such perks. If only he had that opportunity now so the he could retrieve his belongings and be done with the task..

Alas, Rylvan remained rooted to the spot. He dared to go no further so that he would not give off any further impression of wanting to go to the Hold. Which, regretfully, meant he was stuck near the green rider until the man chose to fly off. Crossing his arms loosely over his stomach, Rylvan shook his head at K'lir. "I have not seen the eggs."

Why would he go look? He heard the queen got very upset over her foster clutch. If she did not want anyone to be around them, Rylvan was perfectly find with that. It seemed he easily accepted and complied with the ways and demands of dragons more than he would ever do for another person. "Why do you ask?"

[Symphony]

K'lir raised an eyebrow slightly at the candidate, then went back to checking on his ankle. He'd have to see a Healer which basically meant he was going to be in a foul mood for the next few hours, erratically, as he tended to flash from angry to amused then back to angry relatively quickly. (Truthfully that stemmed from the fact that he was inherently condescending - he tended to laugh at other people's idiocy and therefore it was in part anger as well. The two emotions were so tightly wound together in K'lir that he did not see anything unusual about his behavior and he often scoffed when people pointed out that yes, he was acting strangely. No, there was nothing wrong with him. The problem was with everyone else.) Healers infuriated K'lir with their so 'gentle' mannerisms. He sort of wanted to shove a knife up one of their backsides just to prove a point. He'd threatened to do it at one point but the boy in question, a black-haired candidate by the name of Rawign, had promptly informed him that he would be happy to cut out his eyes. K'lir was still reeling from that one. Healers weren't supposed to be half-insane.

The candidate's question made K'lir laugh under his breath. If he wasn't involved, he was lucky. Oh was he lucky. K'lir sort of wanted to be there when Liyanna caught whoever had sneaked onto the Sands to view the eggs. He was sure that Ariannalyth would want to eat them. He was also not convinced that Liyanna would not feed the culprits to her dragon. He'd been excited when she became Weyrwoman - she seemed the type to allow that sort of punishment. He was an avid believer that extreme punishment worked better than mild. Make an example of one person and not many others were stupid enough to try it. Common sense. Not many people agreed with him. He couldn't imagine why.

"Because I'm hoping Ariannalyth will eat the responsible parties. Tsakyyth probably would," he said with a light shrug. "She's not exactly timid about that sort of thing."

The green in question lifted her head and swiveled it around to look at Rylvan in thought. Then she leaned down and inhaled sharply, as if to smell the candidate for the first time. Deciding that he was acceptable, she then nudged him over with her snout before going right back to what she was doing - basking on the side of the river, completely ignoring everything happening around her. In the sky, Tsakyyth was unforgettable; she darted between better than any green. On the ground, she was easily the most graceful dragon around. But in personality, she had a devilish calm, like a feline watching, waiting, to pounce on someone unsuspecting, and her casual calmness almost fully belied her wicked streak. Laying around as she was, most people would not believe Tsakyyth was capable of half of the ideas she came up with. K'lir was not the only one ill-suited for group adventures.

[Rylvan]

"Tsakyyth," Rylvan repeated softly, thoughtfully, as the green dragon smelled him. He could not deny the fact that the large creatures fascinated him, though he masked his child-like wonder carefully behind dull neutrality. His eyes widened slightly when the green nudged him with her snout. Clearly confused, Rylvan stumbled a step before touching the side of his arm where he had been pushed. His eyes darted questionly to K'lir then back to Tsakyyth. Rylvan had never actually touched a dragon before, so to have the beautiful green almost playfully prod at him threw his calm composure for a temporary loop.

Dropping his hand back to his side, Rylvan tried to put his mind back on track by responding to K'lir's words. "Then I hope Minji was involved."

Having that peppy face removed from existance wouldn't bother Rylvan in the slightest. The girl got on his nerves far too easily. Every time he saw that girl he made it a point to turn around and find another path. Absently Rylvan rubbed his arm again before he slowly pivoted around. He lingered for a moment, shifting his weight left then right before he turned his gaze onto K'lir. It was probably proper, he guessed, to say something before striding off back toward the Weyr. The silence stretched on as Rylvan tried failingly to think of something to say.

In the end, he tilted his head and immediately pushed back a lock of black hair that fell over his face. "What's your name?"

[Symphony]

Is he frightened of me? How cute.

Cute was never a good term coming from Tsakyyth. With a razored edge of wit, the green was not one to be tested and compliments from her were often veiled insults - as with the remark about the candidate she'd nudged. He looked so surprised and Tsakyyth rumbled, the draconic equivalent of laughter, as her eyes whirled pleasantly. She was being condescending. The boy was less than her and she was sure he was frightened, and that made him little above a plaything in the green's eyes. Plaything to be amused by and throw aside later. If she had any, it was likely that Tsakyyth would break her toys after a relatively small amount of time. K'lir kept her from keeping people as objects, fortunately.

Surprised, more likely, beautiful. How often do dragons likely nudge him? Or touch him at all? K'lir responded, as his gaze met Rylvan's critically. "That's her name. Tsakyyth to Yukasth." Yukasth was Tsakyyth's identical twin sister. The two greens had hatched from the same egg and they made for a near unstoppable duo. In the sky, Yukasth was as a goddess, unmatched in agility and turns, incomparable in flight grace. Tsakyyth was queen of ground and land, moving with the agility of any of the massive felines of the south. An inexperienced man might not be able to tell the two greens apart, but it didn't take a genius to notice the difference. Yukasth was the more timid of the two while Tsakyyth reeked of confidence and composure. She was the best and everyone needed to see that. If ever she doubted herself, her worries were brushed away by reassurance from Hers. She was wonderful beyond words.

"What is a Minji?" he inquired, looking thoughtful. K'lir did not keep track of the candidates, or the weyrbrats, or the Holdbrats, or whatever a Minji was. He didn't know any of them and didn't care to change that. He would get to know them if they joined his wing. Otherwise, K'lir kept to himself. His only real friends were Aryna and Zarath, and Yn're and Yukasth... and really, he liked Yukasth better than he did Yn're. He tolerated Yn're because he had no other choice. The request for his name earned a raised eyebrow. If he was insulted (he was), he didn't let it show on his face, replying with a simplicity that made it clear that his answer should have been obvious. "K'lir of Tsakyyth. Do you come with a name or do I just call you Tsakyyth's pet?"

I don't think he'll like that, said Tsakyyth, rumbling as she curled around her rider. Her tail literally wound its way possessively around K'lir. He was hers; she would not share. I like the sound of it, though. My pet. But that term fits you alone, mine.