Who

Br'er, Q'fex

What

Br'er unleashes The Dog.

When

It is evening of the twenty-eighth day of the first month of the second turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Beach, Southern Weyr

OOC Date

 

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Beach

An eerie mirror, the glass-quiet Sea of Azov: the clear waters stretch along the dark-pebbled shores, and along this narrow beach. Here the faintest lap of waves belies the calm beyond; here the rocks have been ground down into finest, softest sand - those observant would mark upon the similarity between it and the sands of the hatching grounds. The soft sand soaks up summer sunlight as a sponge; painfully hot during the warmer months, it is only truly pleasant at wintertime. Rocks rise to east and west, lichen-limned and green against the abyssal darkness of stone.

It is the thirty-first day of Summer and 99 degrees. The night is clear and humid.


Timor: moon8.jpg
Belior: moon8.jpg


It's the showdown of the century, featuring a creature who bears no introduction (primarily because she bears no NAME). Here is Br'er, and Inlayraith, patiently waiting. And here is the canine. You can't miss her: she's some terrier variant in shades of brown, complete with oversized paws and a little stubby tail. And she is GAMBOLING. More specifically, she is gamboling enthusiastically with Inlayraith, of all creatures, darting SO DAMN HAPPILY around the green's legs, over her tail, etc. etc. Inlayraith, for her part, appears almost… entertained? Maybe it's just that the dog is reassuringly smaller than her. Obviously Br'er introduced his dragon to the dog FIRST. His weyrmate doesn't like the dog? Negotiable. Inlayraith not liking the dog? CANCEL THE PLAN.

"I." Q'fex draws up to a stop to stare at this VISTA of ADORABLENESS, obviously taken aback for a good long moment. Then he turns with a look of almost-afront to Br'er, accusation writ in every line of his face. "You planned this." And there is verbal accusation! He leaves Kraakenaeth behind, glancing back only once as he wanders a bit closer to charmed-Inly and the GAMBOLING BEAST.

Br'er merely cocks an eyebrow at Q'fex. Yes, and? The BEAST is (in that terrier way) fearless, or perhaps just an idiot: the moment she spots a NEW PLAYMATE, she leaves off barking cheerfully up at Inly and trots over to Kraakenaeth. Play bow! HELLO NEW FRIEND CAN WE PLAY HUH HUH HELLO MY NAME IS DOG AND I LOVE YOU. Pant pant pant enthusiastic yip. Br'er, serene, slips his arm around Q'fex's. "She's adorable, isn't she?" He is so proud of himself.

Q'fex feels that Br'er is going to HELL. That is all. He watches the pup's effervescent personality and Kraakenaeth's … flat response. The bronze drops his head to sniff dubiously at the puppy, even goes so far as to open his mouth in a way that would make it SEEM as if he's about to rid the earth of this cute little trouble-causing wild-child. Fex's voice is audible in response: "Kraaken." The bronze huffs. Q'fex leans into Br'er, a bit. "She… is something, I guess." His voice is a little wary.

The puppy's ears droop in disappointment. They're still too big for her head. It's adorable. Gamely, she tries again. Maybe Kraaken just doesn't know what a play bow means? Maybe! HELLO NEW FRIEND HI. Inlayraith lops closer in the interim, hovering in the background. Kraaken, eating her new friend would make her sad :( "Give her a chance," Br'er presses into the lean, as he always does. "We're only keeping her until she's old enough for my brother to take her. Promise." This would be a great surprise to Br'er's brother, who doesn't like dogs - but Q'fex doesn't need to know that. More quietly: "Kraaken is looking better."

Only for a little while — "Right." Listen, Q'fex even sounds BRIGHTER at that. Look at what you reap for sowing lies, Br'er. "You told me that." He breaks away from the greenrider to - with a sigh - drop to a crouch on the balls of his feet, wiggling his fingers at the puppy in that universal 'come over here you goofy fucker' kind of way. "He does, for a damned ugly dragon, doesn't he?" There's a bluff fondness to his voice.

OMG HI!!1 At least you can say this for the dog: she's not shy. (And Q'fex smells like Br'er, who smells like Inlayraith, who smells like FRIEND.) Again with the gamboling, tongue a bright pink banner (of slobber). "Only for a little while. Six months, tops." Does Br'er look, in this moment of Q'fex's distraction, ever-so-faintly concerned about whether his lies might in fact be forced to become truths? Maybe it's just indigestion. Inlayraith gives Kraakenaeth a look of caution, before - sloooowly - easing over. Hello. A wing-bump (on the GOOD wing, obviously) is offered. "He'll be tormenting the Weyr again before we know it," observes Br'er, dry as the Igen desert.

"Oh, you are such a little shit," Q'fex half-croons, half-grumbles down at the pup, allowing himself to roughly fumble those ears in some halfassed approximation of petting. "Six months. You'll be a big little shit by then, won't you." A dubious look upwards: "She's not going to be gargantuan, is she?" The man acts like he wasn't born to a family of animal-tenders. Kraaken SNORTS at Inly for her wing-bump, drawing himself up as if she injured him by that gesture. Maybe he edges the tiniest step sideways away from her. Q'fex lifts his eyes to stare first at Kraaken, then at Br'er.

The little nub of a tail wags furiously, accompanied by prancing steps and butt wiggling. HELLO YES THAT IS PERFECT HELLO YES I LOVE YOU. Br'er opens his mouth to issue a warning, but it is too late: the little pink tongue has revealed itself to be in fact a BIG pink tongue, because the puppy has licked the hand that pets it. She's kind of… slobbery? The greenrider clears his throat, and seizes convenient distractions. "Kraaken." Disapproval. Inlayraith is pure :(

Puppies can soften even the most JADED of souls, not that Q'fex is going to admit this. But maybe he does continue petting the puppy even though she is drooling all over him. Puppy breath could be bottled and sold as a drug. Pern NEEDS a xanax equivalent, right? "That was a very obvious avoidance of my question, Br'er," he dryly comments. Kraaken is now making little mewling sounds in the back of his throat, like some poor damaged prey animal. He is not at ALL laughing, either. Bitch.

"She's the runt." That is a SORT of answer, isn't it? (It really isn't.) With a sigh, and a trace of residual guilt, Br'er concedes: "But she's from wildling stock. The other canines weren't huge, just… tall?" Airedale crossed with caveman. She already has the beginnings of a wild-man beard going on, too. The puppy has decided Q'fex is now her new best friend, if her butt-wiggling enthusiasm is any sign. A determined aside: "I see being in the infirmary has done NOTHING for your dragon not being an asshole." But he says it grudgingly fondly.

"The runt." Q'fex understands this is SUBJECTIVE EVALUATIVE, Br'er. He shoots a single look over before rising to his feet. "What? Oh no. It's just given him an entire other repertoire of more things to fuck with the world." He shrugs his shoulders, a lean gesture, what-can-you-do, before stepping back and slinging an arm across Br'er's shoulders, pulling the greenrider against him. "So what's your brother planning on calling her? Or are we calling her puppy for this whole time." His voice is disapproving of that notion. THINK FAST Br'er.

"If I know him, it'll be something dull and boring. Coaldust or something." Br'er's brother is a Miner. He's a bit of a conventional stick-in-the-mud. "I've been calling her dog," he admits, leaning comfortably into the touch, his own arm snaking out to slide around Q'fex's waist, "or sweetheart, or poppet. You know." All of his standard female-endearments: Inlayraith gets them all the time. The greenrider casts a narrow-eyed glance of THOUGHT at Q'fex, and then, with a salesman's terrible casualness, inquires: "What do you think we should call her?"

"I think that is a question for the dog's owner." Q'fex is too keen on this whole topic, far-hand toying with the edge of clothing that clads the round of Br'er's shoulder. TUG. TUG TUG TUG. He eyes the puppy. "Not for the people who are fostering it." There is a not-subtle emphasis on that word. Nevermind Kraaken's snort from over there. The gig is up for him, but he knows that his lifemate is far less intelligent.

Br'er shoots Kraakenaeth a look. It's a subtle look, one that promises in a millimeter of eyebrow-lift ENDLESS scritches if certain bronzes keep their mental-mouths SHUT. When his gaze shifts to Q'fex, it holds only an affectionate weyrmate's placid consent. "Of course. 'Dog' it is." The arm around Q'fex's waist tightens in a momentary squeeze: affectionate, consoling, faintly possessive. Aren't certain bronzeriders lucky to have no conspiracies whatsoever bubbling in their midsts? The puppy takes the moment to wind herself around them, happy-trotting as she gets hair and slobber ALL OVER THE PLACE.

Listen, if this was someone else — say — Dhioth, that wouldn't work. But Kraaken? Kraaken LIKES to have people indebted to him. So as quick as thought he's moving to whuffle concilitorily at Inlayraith in a very okay-fine-young-rabbit-I-will-stop-fucking-with-you kind of way. "She sheds." It's Q'fex's comment, looking down. It sounds… rather resigned. That has got to be a step in the right direction, right? "Okay fine." Exasperation. "What do you think of…" Does his expression soften. "Tiny?"

You would really think that Inlayraith would know better, but she doesn't. She never learns. The whuffle has her immediately making little teakettle noises of cautious acceptance. She offers, tentative, another wingbump. Friends? :(? "I'm assured it's seasonal. Her coat's curly, see?" Br'er reaches down to give her an affectionate little ruffle, drawing forth a cheerful little 'woof'. "It won't be so bad." The greenrider's eyebrows lift at Q'fex's selected name, perhaps because he is more genre-savvy than Q'fex, and KNOWS a tempting of fate when he hears it. But, you know… what the hell. "Tiny is… cute." The puppy prances. HI HI I LOVE YOU HI. "It suits her."

She really should know better, because as soon as she wing-bumps, the gimp is flailing backwards as well as he can — it's really like a half-step, let's be honest, but it's done with good timing — and comically stare at her, mid-lid shuttering closed in alarm. "Tiny it is." Q'fex, the inappropriately declared Straight Man for this joke, makes a nod. "Only until your brother figures out his arrangements." He is super wary. (Just wait, in two sevens he will be cuddling with this thing on the couch.)

Inlayraith squeaks, thump-thump-thumping a foot in alarmed apology. Br'er sighs. "Your sharding dragon." There's no heat in his words: he's too comfortably pressed against Q'fex's side, fingers playing absentmindedly with a beltloop on his waistband. Tiny abruptly gambols off to go investigate an interesting smell over by the dragons, and Br'er watches her go with paternal amusement. "Bron," yes, Br'er's brother is really named BRON, "doesn't want a young puppy around his apprentices. She'd distract them." He lies so FLUIDLY. "I'm sure she'll be good company to you and Kraaken in the interim."

"He's a dick." Q'fex's voice is pure bias, utter fondness. "I seem to collect them, so." He tightens his arm around Br'er, grinning as he leans over to kiss his weyrmate SOUNDLY, the principle being to shut him up before he starts bitching. Or something. "Hmm. Your brother is going to owe me a large favor if I'm babysitting," Q'fex comments, then shrugs his shoulders. "Come on. I'm going to sponge-bathe Kraaken and YOU are invited to join me." With a flashing glint of teeth he moves for the water — and that is about all there is to that, right? Right. Except for puppy mayhem.

She's going to pee on something important before the day is out.

And it begins.

Kraakenaeth sighs.

Inlayraith feels for him :(

Oh, Inlayraith. So trusting.

There's a sucker born every minute :(

The last one's name was Q'FEX.

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