Bath-tle of Wills }{ G'vril and A'ur, and Dragons

[mandafloon]

G'vril had kindly excused himself from the hustle and bustle of the Weyr. The weyrwoman was a mere sevenday dead, and already the rumors had begun to repeat. Of course, G'vril had turned an ear to them all, and don his fair share and more of nosing about. Such a shame, really. A pity. He had mourned, of course, and been furious that there'd been nothing he could have done to protect his weyrwoman. Like it or not, she'd been the weyrwoman, and her loss was not a good thing. Of course, his own desires and ambitions had been stoked by the act, but what would happen from now until Rekhath rose? Suppose Mairin was killed too? Then what? He'd worried over the situation far too many times. And that was exactly why he and Ehsazat h had left at high noon for the cove.

There on the shore G'vril neatly rolled up his sleeves and cuffed his trousers to avoid the water. Manual labor was not his favorite passtime, but cleaning his iron was a necessary task, and one he didn't dare leave to anyone of lesser skill or knowledge of the huge beast. They'd brought along several pails of sweet sand and oil, and one of the sand ones he lifted and began to wade towards the Iron.

Ehsazath was lying just off shore, the water only deep enough to pass over his elegantly folded forelimbs. He was thinking smugly, enjoying the pampering that hadn't even come yet. Do be a dear and hurry up, won't you G'vril? This water is lukewarm at best, and you know how it wrinkles my skin. If I am to go flying near Rekhath's weyr later I would like to be at least presentable to her. Here. And please don't get any sand that isn't sweet on my back when you climb up. Only the best, after all, for the king of Solace. Which I shall be, when Rekhath rises.

The dragon lifted a limb enough to make it easier for G'vril to grab onto and pull himself up. The boy raised a brow at the dragon's claims, but there was pride behind his smirk. "You'd better. You're the best Iron, no, the best dragon in the weyr, so you'd better prove that to them." He poured the sweetsand onto Ehsazath's long back and began to lovingly work it around, cleaning out all the nooks and crannies of his skin. Where joints bent and wings met body all were meticulously scrubbed. "We'll be waiting long enough for her to rise as it is. I don't want to have to wait again after that under some weyrleader that isn't me."

[spades]

A'ur of Iron Gideoth

Sometimes, a man and his dragon just had to escape the day-to-day hustle bustle of Weyr life. Now, when the senior Queen went ballistic, killing her mate and children on top of maiming several candidates, sometimes came much more frequently. Rumors circled the Weyr like angry fire lizards, spreading and mutating with each set of lips they fell from. To be honest, A’ur was tired of being in the thick of it - he felt bad for the poor man who’d lost his dragon, for the candidates (some of those were now riders) who’d nearly lost their own lives, but there was only so much pity the Ironrider carried around. Even on good days, he tried to repress the majority of those ill feelings, lest he start wallowing on W’il again. Just the thought of the name made Gideoth bristle beneath him, the muscles in his shoulders and back tensing up.

Don't make me send you back to the bottom of the lake, Gideoth warned, his eyes whirling a dangerous shade of orange. A’ur raised an eyebrow, dark eye just daring his beast to dump him into the water. Fortunately, the dragon didn’t seem to have enough energy to actually follow through. In fact, he barely halted on the sands of the shore long enough to allow his person to kick off his boots and pull off his shirt, leaving them in a pile. The Iron surged forward, his one-eyed rider nearly rolling over his back and sliding down his rump, the lumbering gait awkward and hard to sit to. “Would you cool it, Gid? The water isn’t going anywhere,” he groused, shielding his face as he tried to put a name to the pair that seemed to have the same they did.

With an annoyed snort, Gideoth swung his head and plowed into the water, kicking up waves large enough to drown small men as he waded out into the cool liquid. Of course, it wouldn’t do to sigh in satisfaction, or relax even the slightest bit, so he simply turned on Ehsazath. You! Boy! Get out of my way, your fat sharding hide is sucking up all the sunlight. A’ur rolled his eyes and slapped the dragon’s shoulder. He got a shudder in response, the roll and twist of hide and muscle finally sending the brunet sliding off that broad back and into the chilly water below. As for you, Ridermine... Something wicked twisted the dragon’s features and he lifted a claw, slapping it down close enough to nearly drown his rider. If G’vril was close enough, the small tidal wave would certainly douse him too.

Oi. Why haven't you moved yet? Boy, you best not sharding try me. Take your scrawny man-thing and get out.

Somewhere under the water, A’ur sighed heavily. Perhaps if he just stayed below the surface and played dead, he wouldn’t have to deal with Gideoth’s fantastic people skills.

[mandafloon]

Wonderful. They had company. By the size of the shadow that swung briefly by, it wasn't a green or blue, either. G'vril felt Ehsazath shift under him, felt a strain of tension in their mind-connection. Uh-oh. Another metallic then. Male, almost certainly. The iron never, ever felt this way around females. The more delicate sex evoked an aura of mixed superiority and supplication in him; a desire to woo and to win. This was pure competition he was feeling now. A glance upwards made it clear why. There were more mutation dragons at Solace than perhaps anywhere else in all of Pern, but even then, Irons were rare. They numbered in mere handfuls. And Ehsazath knew them all on sight, and loathed them.

They lit onto the sands and G'vril slowed his scrubbing imperceptably. He could feel a shift in Ehsazath's breathing, and he frowned, mentally chiding him. Of course he was the BEST iron, far better than THAT one, but it was unbecoming to get in such a fit. Weyrleaders-in-making didn't whirl their eyes orange at every little copper or iron or bronze that came near, now did they? G'vril finished sanding the dragon's neck and back as A'ur kicked off his boots and the older iron came rumbling into the water. He sat back, back straight, chin up, somehow managing to look down his nose at the 38' dragon.

"A'ur. Gideoth. How pleasant. It's always a treat to have the company of one's own, isn't it?" His words at least sounded flattering, though the critical eye he cast over the bedraggled-looking cyclops was nothing but harshly appraising. It was clear that the dragon led this pair, indeed. "Lovely day to get out of the weyr. Too many sputtering babies and vicious rumors about the future for my taste, at least." A half-truth. The babies didn't annoy him, but they did get a bit underfoot. He denied to himself that he'd been in that same boat, grinning dumbly at anyone who passed his way after impressing only four turns prior. "At least we only lost a few in that hatching." And a bronze among them. He knew better than to openly feel glad for the lack of yet another metallic male about.

He felt a rush of anger from below him, and was swiftly relayed Gideoth's command. His brow furrowed, and he placed a steadying hand on Ehsa's positively seething hide. Now. Don't start with him. You're better than that. Better than him. He reassured the iron, who went from nearly whirling red in anger to a more polite yellowish-green in the eye. His head, stretched forward in a near snarl, pulled back to cut an elegant arc. Poised. Proper. Better. Despite their equal fury at the smaller Iron, both managed to take some pride in not reacting with shouts. That was for people of lesser wit and cunning.

A pity your eyes have begun to fail already, Gideoth. You're what? Forty turns hatched now? Such a shame. But since you're blind now, as well as ugly, I'll tell you. You're already sitting in the sun. Poor thing, A'ur must have such patience with him... He trailed off, as if pretending only to say the last to G'vril, and then flicked his tail--a draconic smirk? Or a faux grin of embarrassment? It would depend on who you asked. Oh my. Faranth, did I think that out loud? ...Well. Probably couldn't hear me anyway. Indeed, the senses go first; isn't that what they say, G'vril?

G'vril couldn't hide his smirk at Ehsazath's comeback. A bit too strong, perhaps, but it had been funny to him at least. He looked about to say something to A'ur, feigning to have not been privy to the draconic chatter, when Gideoth dumped him, and then sent spray flying everywhere. With a thought, Ehsazath lifted his wing to shield his rider and spare him the main of the water. He still found himself with wet trouser cuffs and needing to wipe spray form his face, but he was mostly dry. When Ehsa lowered his wing it revealed an ugly scowl on the younger man's face (and that all the sweet sand had been washed off, leaving a wonderfully shining hide behind.)

"A'ur, after all these years I'd thought you'd've learned to teach Gideoth some manners."
I don't take orders from fardling half-whers. We were here first. Take your rusted hide somewhere else.

[spades]

A'ur of Iron Gideoth

A’ur did not mind the children so much, he thought, musing over G’vril’s comments as he swirled beneath the water. He had turns of practicing the art of dodging his dragon’s stomping feet since they had just Impressed. The Iron had always been a petulant creature, ready and willing to inform his rider of each and every mistake he made, especially when it came to bathing. He could hear his bonded squabbling in his mind, though the younger’s dragon’s response was lost. Fortunately (unfortunately), Gideoth was more than happy to supply his rider with the gritty details. Gideoth… he warned, with no real effort. Gideoth would be Gideoth would be Gideoth.

You're so uncreative, boy. Is that really the best you can do? Any fool can insult eyes or ears. The older Iron scoffed, flaring his wings and maneuvering behind Ehsazath’s, soon blocking out the sun’s delicious rays with his wingspan. So sharding stupid, wherry-brained dungheap. Twenty turns is barely forty. With age comes wisdom, something you and Yours clearly lack. Fools. It was then A’ur finally reemerged, shaggy brown hair plastered to the sides of his bony face, his fringe shielding his eye (and the gap where his other eye used to be) from view. Withholding the desire to sigh - the dragons were bickering like small children - he paddled slowly over to his Iron’s side. Gideoth sank down without a word, allowing the man to grab his back and haul himself aboard, taut muscles flexing as he lifted himself back up. Pushing his hair out of his face, A’ur rubbed at his scares and raised an eyebrow in G’vril’s general direction.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he sniffed, calloused fingers reassuring tense muscles and coiled hide, scratching gently over the surface. “I didn’t realize you and Ehsazath were so sensitive. Perhaps if you don’t feel you can handle playing with the men, the weyrlings will let you stay a little while longer in their barracks. I have heard A’rys is a generous man. Perhaps you can share a bed with that boy of yours. What was his name? Sherman? Sharmin?” Beneath him, Gideoth’s fury gave way to a wicked mirth, eyes swirling a rainbow of reds, oranges and blues as he gave a rumble, his voice as pleasant as rocks and sand running over each other.

You are a fool, boy. Do not think for a moment you can force us out, you shardit. Mine will see to it.

For a few moments, the Iron had been worried that A'ur would not rise up to take the bait. After the Fall - one that his rider would not let him forget, he saw it over and over in the man's memory, could still feel the distant burn of Score across his face. In truth, Gideoth felt regret for his man - to lose an eye... It was very unfortunate, but it was what it was. It did not hinder their ability to fight Thread, now that A'ur had become accustomed to his new depth perception, and it did not keep them from Chasing any and all the females Rising in the Weyr. When the new Senior Queen finally took wing, the fiery Iron would be ready and waiting for her. The same could not be said for current company, of course, bigger, younger, or otherwise. They were fools, and Gideoth was glad A'ur had seen it too. It had been too long the man held his silence - silence was not what he had Impressed. The brunet had sharp wit, it was about time it reappeared.