Who

Ione, Jedrek, J'ran, Keelie

What

Takes place before It's Easier With Friends: Yerenath is proddy, and J'ran is cracking. Ione, Keelie, and Jedrek attempt to intervene.

Language, flight themes.

When

It is evening of the thirteenth day of the fourth month of the seventh turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Cove, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 03 Mar 2016 08:00

 

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"Make her stop! She's always … there!"


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Cove

A saber's curl along the coast of the Azov Sea, the cove is a clash of green and black; where deeply forested jungles encroach upon the curving expanse of this tiny cove, found only past the rocky barrier that serves as demarcation between cove and beach. Lacking the softly ground sand of the beach, the cove is made up of dark, volcanic pebbles, making it trickier to navigate than the beach itself. Yet, what a surprise is given if one braves the less comfortable path that curves around a long-forgotten cinder cone to find the quiet tranquility of seclusion. Brilliant against the black pebbled beach, greenery is only enhanced by the purest of turquoise waters, warmed by a deep volcanic vent and churned by hidden currents that further feeds into the relative calm of the sea itself. A small school of rainbow fish and yellowfish swims around here.


The Cove is a pretty good place to wind down or relax or whatever before bed, right? Well, any other night that might be correct but not tonight. Tonight it almost sounds as if a shouting match is going on but it's hard to tell how many area speaking since the voices fluctuate between a man's and what could be a woman's. A green dragon is curled up and the far end of the runnershoe that forms the cove while her rider is at the end closer to the Weyr. J'ran is kicking sand and throwing rocks in between gesticulating wildly as he yells at — no one? "It wasn't my fucking fault!!" A rock goes whizzing out to the waves. "Dammit! Don't give me that shit … you …" He cuts off and kicks at the sands in frustration as he glares at the lump of green dragon waaaaay down the beach.

This is probably a moment which calls for a Healer of some ilk, but instead of that, J'ran gets a goldrider. Ione appears on the rocky path, treading carefully — although there is a near-stumble — down toward the sheltering embrace of the cove. She has a stylus in one hand and a book tucked under her arm, apparently intending to write by moonlight. A diary, perhaps? Or maybe it's just work, as there's a tight set to the young woman's features which suggests deep concentration. It's not so deep, however, that J'ran's shouting can go unnoticed — she'd likely have to be sleepwalking to escape those sounds. "J'ran!" The name is sharp; commanding. "For Faranth's sake, stop shouting. What's wrong?"

A walk along the beach before bed? Keelie seems to have that idea, although she's doing a considerable amount of leaning against her bulky brown lifemate as she steps, barefoot, through the sand. She's tired. And he's warm. Her long red hair lifts up on the wind with a life of its own. The pair pauses as one when the breeze carries the argument of J'ran and… Keelie blinks. Is there anyone else there? She spots Ione on the rocky path, and sees them interacting, and decides she'd better go over and investigate. Gruffith grunts supportively as she makes her way towards them, her expression curious and concerned.

My, the cove is a busy place this evening. Usually Jedrek has it to himself for his runs, but tonight it seems everyone and their dragon is out on the beach. The steady pace that has brought him from the Weyr slows as he comes into the vicinity of shouting rider, commanding rider, and curious rider until he finally stops, hands going to lean hips as he breathes deep; despite the chill air, he's all nice and sweaty from his run and a little steam rises from his overheated body to mingle with the rain. However, since he's not actually a rider, he just looks on. Maybe he thinks it's an exhibit and he's curious how dragonriders behave when they think no one's watching.

J'ran throws another rock out into the waves, the projectile going rather a long way as the young man grunts at the effort. He turns and kicks his way back through the sands, no one really registering since he's glaring at the sand beneath his feet. Who knows where that sand is going to go. A hiss from his green sizzles across the water and draws a sharp glance from the greenrider before he throws a rock in Yerenath's direction though it falls far short of his lifemate. Ione's sharp words cut through the inner dialogue and pulls him up short though he glares at her as well. The normally placid young man red-faced and uncharacteristically angry. "Nuthin'," comes the short, sullen reply before he slews a bit sideways to move around his goldriding clutchmate. Something his green says makes his head jerk up again as he shouts, "It's none of his business! Don't you dare!!"

It's hard to miss a Gruffith-sized shadow moving down the beach, and so Keelie's presence does gain Ione's attention for just a moment. Jedrek, however, is a far less imposing shadow, and for the moment the goldrider doesn't see him. He's free to watch the show without anyone calling him out on it. "If you don't stop shouting, I will have Niatskivhiath call for the Healers to come take you away, J'ran," the goldrider says sharply, whether such a call is justified or not. It certainly seems as though the man could use some form of sedation. A gesture is made toward Keelie, as she reminds, "You have an audience now, greenrider." In other words, people are going to talk. It's not a tone that she'd usually take with her clutchmates, but then again, this isn't a scene she usually stumbles across, either.

Something is clearly wrong. This much Keelie has gleaned. Every time he changes voices, her expression becomes more confused. Remember when she used to stare at people? She's kind of doing that now. Then, it occurs to her. Her footfalls stumble. Is it the curse? IT HAD TO HAPPEN EVENTUALLY. She's been avoiding the whole area of Sven's murder, just in case it was catching. Did J'ran go there, and now he's going to murder someone? She squints, checking him for weapons. Did he kill someone already? Is that who he's talking to? She nods silently to Ione, not exactly about to share her thoughts. She does whisper to herself, firmly: "It is not real." Brown eyes flicker to Jedrek, and then back to J'ran. She moves to subtly put herself between Ione and the greenrider, just in case something goes down.

Oh, Jedrek's just fine about staying out of the limelight, and out of the way. He moves to the water instead, scooping some over his head and scrubbing it through his hair, using more to cool his face and neck before he turns back to the contretemps - Ione's authoritation brings a raised brow, followed by a curious gaze for Keelie's antics; he's still not used to wildlings and their strange ways. He paces a bit closer, voice inquiring "What's not real?" Polite, yet curious. Boo. For now, he leaves the ranting J'ran to the weyrwoman.

Yerenath's huff of impatience can be heard all the way across the sands separating her and her rider making her sound just as sullen as J'ran had. The greenrider's head whips around to glare at Ione again when she threatens to have the Healers called but movement at the corner of his eye makes his gaze dart in that direction as he hunches his shoulders and looks as sullen as a child denied a sweet. His eyes dart from Gruffith to Keelie to Jedrek though he only recognizes the man as 'not a rider' rather than anything else before crossing his arms around his chest. He is wearing a beltknife so Keelie's worry might actually be a good thing but he only grinds his teeth as he shifty-eyes between the three of them. "Don't need a Healer," is muttered to Ione. While he doesn't continue shouting, he does continue his pacing between the rocks and the high-tide mark though he finds he has to alter his path now that there is a dragon and three people close around him. His frown deepens as he notes the suspicious expression on Keelie's face and hears Jedrek's question. What is real is more on his mind than what isn't right about now.

Ione is doing her best to remain somewhat aloof about this whole scenario; to play the part of goldrider rather than a teenage girl confronted with something unfamiliar and deeply unsettling. It doesn't escape her notice that Keelie steps in front of her — perhaps for the best, since she seems to have slipped her guard for the night — and she offers a tight-lipped smile to the brownrider's back. "I think you might," is voiced in the direction of the greenrider, concern etched in her speech. She doesn't entirely understand what's going on, but it doesn't seem normal. "And I will have Niatskivhiath ground Yerenath if necessary, so please don't try running off." Ah, the power of being a goldrider. Jedrek's 'sudden' appearance gives her pause, and she glances at the man with slightly narrowed eyes. Still, the damage has already been done in terms of what he must've seen, so she doesn't attempt to usher him away. She is, however, curious about Keelie's answer to that question.

Keelie's imagination is just getting the better of her, of course J'ran is only talking to his dragon! Made even more clear when Yerenath huffs. The dark shadow that is Gruffith galumps closer. Keelie turns her head, hair flying, to look briefly at Jedrek. She didn't realize she'd spoken loud enough to be heard. "Nothing," she answers with a little smirk. This young brownrider is not about to admit she might be giving into some old delusions about curses! At least not right now. She did see that belt knife on J'ran and it gave her pause; good thing she has her own. But hopefully it never comes to that, especially now that it seems J'ran's not shouting, and Gruffith has talked some sense into her head. She looks at Ione with approval for her handling of the situation. "What do you need?" She adds her own question to J'ran, in kind tones, but firm with concern. A punching bag? Myziri? Help hiding a body?

"Hmm…" Jedrek's response to Keelie's denial is faintly skeptical, mostly noncomittal. Arms cross over his chest as he takes in the scene, fully aware of Ione's narrow-eyed gaze - he returns it with a denim-blue one, one black brow raising slightly. And says absolutely nothing else. Silent observer, here. But, there's an element of amusement in his expression now as he looks from J'ran to Yerenath to the goldrider to the brownrider and her dragon. Someone's funny bone has been tickled.

"Shut up." J'ran growls, a glare going toward the green at the other end of the cove. "Shut up. Shutupshutupshutup." The muttering goes on as he half-turns away from the other three. Unfortunately, his inner arguement doesn't drown out the goldrider's voice. When Ione suggests that he might actually need a Healer and then threatens to ground him, his lip curls in a snarl but before he can launch himself at the goldrider, Keelie's question stops him in his tracks. He blinks. What does he need? The young greenrider frowns and seems to think hard before he flings his arm out to point in Yerenath's direction. "Make her stop! She's always … there!" The young man grimaces and both hands come up to clutch at his shorn hair as he practically collapses into a ball a short distance away with a sob of frustration. "Just make her stop watching me."

The single brow lift which Keelie receives suggests Ione's not entirely sold on the brownrider's explanation, but she's not going to push it. Not when there's a near-hysterical J'ran stalking around the cove, liable to lunge at any moment. She doesn't miss that snarl, and for a moment she's regretting the fact that she ditched her guard for a late-night jaunt — but thankfully, Keelie is there as a distraction. And Jedrek? Don't think Ione misses that amusement in her careful management of this uncomfortable moment. "Is this funny to you, Jedrek?" she demands, authoritatively, apparently willing to level her frustration in any direction. But her attention doesn't linger upon the bartender for long, and she's drawn back into the seeming madness of J'ran with his latest demands. For a moment she's simply silent, and pale eyes go slightly out of focus in silent conference with the distant gold. Those healers? They should be along in a bit, because this is clearly beyond the scope of her abilities. "Should we ask Yerenath to leave, J'ran?"

Keelie tenses when it looks like J'ran is about to attack Ione, already between them and ready to stop the much taller man if she needs to. But luckily her question stops him. Even if what he needs is impossible for them to give. Her brown eyes are large, and she breathes deeply, trying to send some of that calm to J'ran. She ignores Jedrek for now, as he isn't helping or hindering the situation. She sends a slight worried smile back at Ione, waits a long moment, and then adds: "Tell her it is bothering you. Can you not block her out?" They learned this skill in weyrlinghood. "Maybe ask her why she is watching you so closely." Keelie isn't a mindhealer, but she remembers back when Gruffith was always up in her business. And he always had a reason for it, even if it was ridiculous. (It was usually ridiculous.) Speaking of Gruffith, he's here now, just behind the group (surprise dark shadow over everyone!) and is trying to talk to Yerenath to get her to leave him alone, just for a bit. Protector dragon, FTW.

No one knows much about Jedrek. He prefers this, his anonymity. Most see him as just a bartender, a man of few words, a silent watcher. And he's fine with that, with the shallow footprint he leaves upon the minds and memories of those with whom he comes in contact. But there's more to him than meets the eye, and much, much more experience - some good, some bad, some not so clearly defined - than he shares with anyone. So yes, he's amused - and Ione's calling him on it only tickles that funny bone before. "You're all from the most recent clutch." It's a statement, not a question. "Your dragons are all fairly young - not more'n a Turn, I'd say, or not much above it if my memory serves." His gaze goes beyond goldrider and brown to greenrider curled in on himself, then the green beyond him. "To answer your question, ma'am," and even that's said with a little flare of that amusement, "Yes, it does. You are young, but I imagine you will one day soon be feeling the same effects this man is." His gaze moves back to Ione and despite his amusement, his tone is gentle as he explains. "The man doesn't need a healer, nor to be grounded." His gaze shifts back to J'ran and his tone firms. "What he does need to do is find a way to deal with a proddy dragon." Head tilts toward Yerenath "Early stages, perhaps, but I've seen it before." And no, he's not gonna say where. "Hits some harder than others, I've noticed." That in a musing tone as his gaze shifts back to include not only Ione but Keelie; head shake "Riders. Sometimes you're a clueless lot."

"NO!" J'ran almost jerks himself to his feet as if he was a marionette but the loose sand thwarts his efforts and sends him back onto his backside. "No … just … just make her be quiet for a while …" He drops his head to his knees again and curls his arms loosely over it to cross over the back of his neck. "I can't hardly eat … she won't let me sleep." How long? He's not even sure, it started almost the moment they'd got back from … wherever they'd been when the rest of Lynx was confined to the Weyr. One hand lifts as if to wave Keelie's thoughts away, the greenrider's voice muffled though it's obvious he's sobbing between spurts of words. "I did all that and no, I can't block her out for some reason … she just won't stop." The green in question is pointedly ignoring her brown clutchmate, the thorns of her mind wickedly sharp and blocking anyone from slinking in right now. There must have been a pause within the constant nattering going on in the greenrider's mind because some of the older man's words seem to percolate through to the younger and makes him lift his head to frown, tears streaming down his pale cheeks and making his dark circled eyes even darker. "P-p-proddy? But … no, she can't be old enough for that yet."

The look which Ione levels in Jedrek's direction is ice cold, and pale eyes burn with that white-hot fire so rarely seen. "I don't know what you think you understand about dragonriders, Jedrek, but this is not normal. Proddy riders do not have hysterical screaming fits," not to mention the odd shift between male and female vocal tones, "as a rule. Regardless of whether or not she's proddy, this man needs to be taken to the Healers." If for no reason other than to be given something to calm him, since it's clear that J'ran is on shaky ground. "Others from our clutch have already risen, without similar effects. So in the future, before you begin running your mouth off to a dragonrider about how you find humor in a man's pain, I would strongly suggest to reconsider that notion. Perhaps you'd find yourself better suited to a home elsewhere, if you find this kind of thing so amusing." Her fierce gaze stays focused upon him for a moment longer, letting the threat of that statement linger. But there are other, more important issues to be dealt with, and so her eyes eventually turn from Jedrek to J'ran, where her gaze softens significantly. "I can have Niatskivhiath try to press her to be silent," she offers, in the hopes that such a direct command will have the desired effect. The expression upon her face suggests that this is hardly the ideal solution, however. "She wouldn't be the first one of the group to rise, J'ran. She's old enough." They all are.

Keelie listens to Jedrek as he speaks, ignoring his profile, even if she bristles slightly at his words and his tone. She is still watching J'ran, head tilted with concern, his words being more important. Her sweet expression changes from worry to wide-eyed shock as the bartender draws to his conclusion, lips parting in protest. She turns, Gruffith lifting his wing so that she can get a look at the green (their heads turn towards her as one), although it's impossible to see her shade in the indigo starlight. She looks to Ione next, sending her a firm nod for her telling off of Jedrek. Now that she's certain he isn't cursed (mostly certain), this little brownrider is just going to step backwards from the possibly proddy greenrider. "You will take care of him?" She sends Ione a long, searching look. This is Myziri's friend. She wants to make sure he's ok. Once she's certain, she's going to (completely ignoring Jedrek) hop up on Gruffith's leg to her favourite ridge, and he's going to galumph over there to the left a few lengths and just up and take off. Not that she's afraid of mating flights exactly. Just that she has things to do.

"Sometimes when one doesn't have a good grasp on reality, it's less difficult to deal with it when it comes 'round to them." Cryptic words, and Jedrek's gaze remains on J'ran as he says it - he ignores Ione's icy glance as if it were no more than a minor irritation; perhaps snowflakes against hot skin that melts them almost immediately. Amusement remains and grows into a smile, white teeth gleaminig in the rain-misted darkness. "Of course, that green over there might not know what's up either, and he's reacting to her confusion." He shrugs "I don't pretend to know what's in the minds of dragons or their riders, but I know this - healers aren't going to help. Perhaps he needs a friend." Eyes finally shift over to the goldrider "Not officiousness." Tone gentles again "No offense meant, of course, ma'am, but you're very young and you haven't experienced this yet." He tilts his head to the green pair "So how do you know it isn't usual? Not all dragons and riders are alike, after all." Again, not mentioning where he gets this experience. Now all amusement is gone, and compassion bleeds lightly into his expression as he turns his gaze once again on J'ran "Though the idea of a sedative has merit. I'd suggest whiskey." He rubs at the rain gathering on his bare chest. "And lots of it." Diagnosis ala bartender.

Yerenath does indeed glow just a tiny bit in the moonlight but she's not at all the sensual beast that the majority of the greens seem to be and her turn of temper has definitely affected her rider. And she's apparently nattering at the young man again because J'ran's head lifts and he seems angry again when Ione makes that offer though his words are almost a sob. "You can try but …" He's not promising anything. His weary gaze watches as Keelie and Gruffith take off, his green's head lifting to watch the pair as well and hiss at what she sees as the brown's retreat before her baleful eyes return to watching her rider despite his attempts to hide from her. The young man sighs heavily at Jedrek's words, frowning mightily as he tries to grasp them through that constant muttering in his mind. "I just want to sleep … I don't care if it's Healers dosing me or I drink myself sick right now." A low groan is given as he scrubs at his face and a pleading look is sent Ione's way as if asking where these Healers are she keeps threatening him with.

"I find it deeply concerning that you deal with a man's health in such a cavalier way, Jedrek." Ione says, struggling to keep a lid upon her anger. She's managing, but only just. "I know this isn't usual because we receive a thorough education as dragonriders, based upon a very long history. It's not as though we impress the dragons and they send us out into the world to figure things out for ourselves." Personal experience really doesn't matter, in this instance. "The mental health of our riders is a serious issue. A misstep could be deadly for J'ran and for anyone who flies with him, so I'd appreciate if you kept your 'wisdom'," the air quotes are heavy around that word, "to yourself. I'm sure you've seen plenty, but unless you'd like to claim to know more than all of our Weyrlingmasters, I would keep quiet." And that's all the goldrider has to say to him, although her lips do press together more tightly when the man suggests whiskey as a reasonable solution. "Since I'd rather not just hope that whiskey will help you sleep rather than upset you further," the words are pointed, even if her gaze is focused on J'ran, "let's go with the Healers." As if on cue, a pair of them appear on that rocky path, eyeing the scene in front of them uncertainly.

Disinterested shrug is given to Ione's long-winded remonstration, and fingers rub across his chest again. His gaze remains on J'ran, however. "As I said, no offense, ma'am. I'm sure your weyrlingmasters' wisdom is all encompassing." And nevermind that his tone is just the wee-est bit derogatory. "But I think you're going to embarrass this man for nothing, dragging healers into it, over something that's going to happen again and again. I still say learning to deal's the best way - and a good stiff shot of whiskey." But as she said, he's not an expert. So J'ran gets a nod "Feel better, man. And good luck," the goldrider gets a mocking bow, and then Jedrek's gone, a lone figure jogging at a goodly pace back toward the Weyr without a backward glance, swallowed by the rain eventually.

The drizzling rain has turned J'ran's clothing sodden which doesn't make things any better but physical discomfort is nothing compared to what is going on inside his head. The young man buries his head against his knees again and does his best to hide again from the constant chattering in his skull until those Healers show up and Yerenath starts to her feet to stalk toward them. The sound coming from her barrel chest can only be called a growl and it really does sound a bit threatening though she'd never really hurt anyone. At least not a human. With a heavy sigh, he shoves himself to his feet and scrubs at his face. "I don't care right now … if you don't shut up and let me sleep I'm not going to be any good to anyone ever again … don't you get it?" That moaning aside is obviously not directed toward Ione but the greenrider doesn't bother to look toward his lifemate who is stalking toward the riders though he does move to be between them and his currently unpredictable dragon. Jedrek's exit earns a nod but little more than that, thankful that at least the man had tried to help even if no one else has till Ione.

"I assume you're old enough to know that saying 'no offense' doesn't give you license to behave in a deliberately offensive manner," the goldrider states in a hard tone. But that's the only response she offers to his words. Ione takes a deep, slow breath, and then sets her shoulders. Though white-hot fire still glints in those pale eyes, her expression is serene. In fact, a thin smile almost seems to touch her lips. No doubt all of her fellow goldriders will be receiving a very thorough report about this whole affair, with special notes for Bailey regarding the conduct of one of the bartenders working under her purview. That thought in and of itself is enough to keep her from responding to the man's mockery. As Yerenath begins growling, Ione steps further into the arrangement as well, reaching out silently to Niatskivhiath. No doubt the green will shortly find herself with orders to stand down, with promises that her rider will be cared for and given the chance to rest, so that he might be better company in the morning. "Come on, J'ran," she says softly, offering up her arm. Perhaps she'll be viewed as less of a threat than the Healers. "Let's get you some rest, and if she doesn't rise tomorrow, I'll see if we can't find someone who knows what to do in circumstances like this."

Yerenath does stop her stalking and from the expression on J'ran's face, stops that constant mental commentary, when her gold clutchmate issues that order. Her posture changes from one of threat to a skulking hunch as her head sways level with the sand and her tail lashes from side to side, a constant low hiss issuing from her barely opened mouth. The greenrider draws in a deep breath and sighs it out softly at the blessed silence inside his mind and nods slightly at Ione's encouragement though he doesn't lean too heavily against her as they start moving toward the Healers. "Thanks, Ione," he murmurs, his voice thick with remorse. "I'm … really sorry."

Ione breathes a soft sigh of relief as Yerenath settles, even if the green doesn't seem entirely pleased about that fact. It's enough that she's following orders, for now. Everything else can be dealt with in the morning. The Healers seem plenty happy to let Ione support J'ran after the threat of moments before, but they do gather up close to the pair as they move toward that rocky path. It's likely just a precaution, in case J'ran snaps again and attempts to stab the goldrider. "Don't apologize," she says in a gentle tone, offering him a sad sort of smile. "We're just worried about you, is all." Her, Keelie, maybe even Jedrek. It's likely Sahizath will be hearing about this shortly, as well. "Niatskivhiath will make sure that Yerenath is alright, too. Everything will look better in the morning." At least, she hopes so.

When the healers close in on her rider and Niatskivhiath keeps that firm tone, Yerenath huffs heavily again with frustration and simply watches until the quartet start to move up toward the weyr proper. Then the little green takes off from the beach, gouging deep furrows in the damp sand as she does so, and wings her way toward the bowl rather than their ledge above the river. J'ran offers a very faint smile, seeming more like his normally placid self though with less confidence than usual. "It's not likely to be any better in the morning … she wants me to choose who flies her and I can't … won't do that."

Niatskivhiath is no doubt waiting not far from where the green lands, offering what calm she can for Yerenath's benefit. She hasn't yet reached her full abilities when it comes to dispensing mental valium, but it's enough to make Ione slightly woozy, and the goldrider presses a hand to her forehead as they continue on. Thanks, Tiski. "Why can't you?" she asks, genuinely confused. Perhaps she doesn't realize how unique her perspective on flights happens to be. "Wouldn't it make it easier, if you chose?"

When Yerenath lands, she slinks to where her lifemate will eventually appear though that calming influence the young gold offers does thread through to the troubled green's mind enough that she allows her rider some peace for now. J'ran snorts softly at Ione's words and shakes his head. "T'rey would be insufferable. B'fin, G'nar and a few others among our clutchmates would be worse." The greenrider heaves a weary sigh and struggles up the stairs as he's lead closer to the Weyr. "The few I would like to choose wouldn't even send their dragons up."

"Don't you… like T'rey?" It's true that Ione doesn't know J'ran all that well, but she's not immune to the rumor mill, and then name sounds somewhat familiar. The hesitation in her voice makes it very clear that she's grasping at straws on that one, though. She comes close to stumbling on the steps, which probably doesn't help J'ran's struggling at all, and one of the Healers rushes up to place a hand on her elbow — likely deeming her the safer target. Steady again, she guides him up the rest of the steps without incident. "Why wouldn't they send their dragons up?" There's a horrifying thought.

J'ran's laughter is harsh and almost rusty in his strained voice after all that shouting he'd done. "Of course I like T'rey." Otherwise he wouldn't end up in the bluerider's bed so often. "I just don't want him claiming Yerenath's maiden flight if I can help it. That's all." The greenrider clings to the handrail as Ione stumbles a bit and attempts to keep her steady even as she does the same for him. It's a good thing that Healer did it, otherwise they'd both go tumbling downwards. That last question though makes him peer down at the young woman and it's like he really sees her for the first time. His lips twist a bit wryly as he shakes his head again. "Let's just say they prefer women, hmm?"

"Oh," is Ione's soft reply, such a constrast to the authoritative young woman of earlier. "Do you think it makes that much of a difference, who wins the maiden flight?" Her tone suggests she hasn't really thought of it in that respect. Ione likely isn't the safest person to cling to given her relationship with gravity, but with the Healers behind them, at least there's someone to break their fall if anything bad happens. A slightly sad smile teases at her lips as she offers, "I'm not sure they always have a choice in the matter, you know. You might get lucky." Not that it's much of a consolation prize to think that someone might be forced to join a flight by their dragon. "Why not just pick one of them for Yerenath? If they join, then you've got your winner. If not, it's up to chance."

They are nearly to the bowl and J'ran has been walking slower and slower as the silence in his head lingers, a brief reaching for his lifemate showing she is at least conversing with someone else instead of nattering at him. "I don't know. Really, all I want right now is to sleep, Ione. I don't even want to worry about it anymore." He glances back at the Healers before forging on, knowing he will do better in the Infirmary for the night even if he does go back home the next morning. "I do appreciate your help. Now that I know this is what it's like for her to be proddy, maybe it won't be so much of a problem next time." There is a faintly hysterical tone to his laughter as they make their way across the bowl. "Then again … with her temper, I'm just as likely get into more fights." For some reason he finds that extremely funny though he knows the consequences for that situation.

There are other questions that the goldrider seems to want to ask, but whatever they may be, she bites her tongue. J'ran has had a rough night, and the last thing he needs now is an interrogation. So instead she says simply, "We'll get you settled in and sleeping in no time, I promise." They're so close to the infirmary now, so Ione does her best to draw together any final remarks before the Healers step in properly. "Maybe not," she agrees hopefully, although it's hard to entirely disguise the skepticism which lurks behind it. "But if it happens like this again, just know that you can always reach out to me, or to Hannah, or Bailey, or Clementine. Any of us can help to get her settled down and make sure that you two don't end up at odds." Or screaming on a beach.

Yerenath is close enough as they cross the bowl that J'ran can reach out to just brush his fingertips across her soft hide though she barely rumbles despite her eyes following him and those walking with her rider. "It'll be nice to sleep …" There is a longing in his tone that is difficult to describe. Her offer for if his lifemate causes him such a problem next time earns a nod. "I'll try to remember to do that. I'll probably be hoarse for a day or two but … other than the embarrassment I've cause, things should be fine. Won't be the last time I make a fool of myself, I'm sure." He nods gratefully to the young goldrider as the Healers take over. "Thanks again, Ione. And I am sorry for … well, for what Yerenath may have thought and influenced me to do or say. I didn't intend to offend you and we'd never have hurt you." It's obvious that he doesn't recall exactly what he did or said, just that what he thought was less than generous and it could have slipped out without his knowing it.

"We all make fools of ourselves sometimes, J'ran. Right now's just your turn," Ione offers, in a way that's meant to be encouraging rather than rubbing salt in the wound. It's not the most diplomatic response she could give, but at least it's the truth. She falls back as the Healers take over, lifting a hand in farewell to the greenrider. "You're welcome. And it's alright, really. I was never worried." Besides, she's all too familiar with bruises. As she takes a step back in the direction of the shadow of Niatskivhiath across the bowl, she offers one last wish for well-being. "Feel better, J'ran. Get some sleep." At least one of them will rest easier knowing this won't last long.

Out of nowhere, a moonscaped green shape drops down, landing with ease and pacing toward Yerenath as wings fold. Sahizath's whuffs a soft breath over J'ran before she moves to curl up next to her clutchsib and ex-couchmate, adding physical comfort to the mental she has obviously been providing, glowing gaze on her friend's rider and the goldrider as well before she lowers her head next to Yerenath's.

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