Who

A'ndi, D'ex| Zynth, Taliveth(more of a cameo) Various NPCs

What

D'ex's family takes a painful blow and there will be hell to pay. A'ndi steps in with Zynth's help and makes his own attempt to protect his "family."

A LOT: graphic violence, lots of blood, excessive cursing, semi-detailed mentions of rape, revenge, torture, dismemberment, dramatic intense depressing stuff guys
Backdated

When

It is late afternoon of the twenty-fourth day of the fourth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Beach, Southern Weyr. Docks, Boathouse, Black Rock Seahold.

OOC Date 29 Oct 2017 07:00

 

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A’ndi was in the boat house and D’ex was not done yet. This didn’t work. “Please Leave.”


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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.


There is generally something to be done at all times, if you are D’ex. However, if you are Zynth, there is generally something to be done sometimes, and only if it suits your fancy. Now is one of those times where it does not suit your fancy. Zynth sits just above the serf of the water, the waves lapping at mid-tide at this time of day and despite the heat in the sand, the blue will not move to the cooler, wetter sand. There is a voice in the back of Zynth’s mind that is asking not-so-politely to be picked up at Black Rock later so that he might come home and finish his cleaning from this morning. However, this voice is slightly slurred, slightly shifting in his connection, and likely sporting a few extra bruises that Zynth is sure he deserves. D’ex was dropped off only an hour or so ago, but given the mutual, mild dislike between Zynth and D’ex’s family, and D’ex’s plans for this particular Visit, the Blue took off. Black Rock’s watch-dragon was not great at conversation and Black Rock itself generally inhospitable to dragons. Zynth would far rather let D’ex finish drinking himself stupid, finish his business, and THEN pick him up. But for now? There is an ocean to contemplate, a horny green to ignore, and a D’ex to mentally watch and ensure that no one bothers too much. Babysitting from afar. Worrying from afar.

You know who else likes to contemplate the ocean? …. Not A’ndi! As far as he’s concerned, it’s a whole lot of fucking water. Lots and lots of water. With salt. But the sound of the waves is satisfactorily soothing, at least when there’s not a huge crowd around to drown it out. There are blissfully few people about on this particular stretch of sand and so, on Taliveth’s urgent insistence as of late that A’ndi needs to LEARN TO RELAX DUDE, the brownrider is out attempting just that. By walking on the beach. Because that’s a thing people do, right? Walking… and walking… and not doing anything… Hands stuffed in pockets, he looks desperately bored until he catches sight of that most vivid-of-vivid blue dragons. A’ndi takes his time to meander closer, close enough to call, “Hey, Zynth. Where’s ol what’s-his-face?” Having noticed that there is no D’ex present. Oddly enough, there’s no Taliveth either.

The Blue’s focus will shift from the introspective-view of his rider to the actual world around him as his name is heard. Wings shuffle slightly, attention turning to the brownrider, little wisps of snow reaching out to him, words smooth and mild, « Mine is visiting Family. There was a problem that needed addressing and he wanted to Address it personally. He will not be arrested, but seems to be trying to get someone else arrested. » Snow reaches out toward Taliveth curiously, why was His all alone? Certainly not expected! « And why are you without your wings? » The question might be posed to both partners of the brown pair, but it was polite to ask the one in front of him as means of continuing the conversation. Zynth is aware of these things. « Mine will be back later. » IE, whenever he screws up enough to warrant Zynth’s interference, or passes out and Zynth is willing to go get him. Betweening with D’ex drunk was dangerous, and through a mutual -sober- agreement, they didn’t do that anymore.

The foreign mind of Zynth touching his own is relatively easy to tolerate, at least compared to Taliveth’s mind voice bustin’ on in to poor D’ex’s noggin. The cool calm and the little flurries of snow are a pleasant sensation to the brownrider, a reminder even of the things he enjoyed back home at Southern Barrier. A’ndi moves closer to stand beside the blue, though he leaves a respectable distance between them. A look of Major Disapproval settles upon his features about D’ex’s whereabouts, but he’ll answer the other question first, regarding his dragon, “My wings are doing… Taliveth stuff.” And as if on cue, a supernova lights up Zynth’s inner sky. « SHHHH I’M BEING A WHERRY RIGHT NOW, OKAY? SSSSSHHHhhhshhhsshshshshshhhhhhhh I’m incognito » A’ndi shoots a sideways ‘see what I mean?’ sort of look to the blue. “So why aren’t you with D’ex? Not a fan of family reunions?”

The blue's attention wavers a moment, thoughts with the increasingly intoxicated D’ex. « I dislike seeing him get hurt, even if he deserves it. His business right now has a high probability of it and I would want to stop it and stop him. However, some things need to be delt with his way. His family is not a fan of me, nor I of them. So it is overall easier I don't stay in Black Rock. » the words are matter of fact, without complaint or even blame. His leaving his rider to fight demons alone was not something Zynth was happy about, but something he understood. His way would not be good for either of them in this case. Snow dances through the super nova only for meet milliseconds before vanishing, « I will not tell anyone. You Do That. » The blue’s weight shifts, gaze scanning the beach before again settling on A’ndi, « How is Fish? If you buy the pasta, D’ex will make lasagna in a dawn or two. He will be recovering for a bit and cooking is good for him. » IE, Zynth thinks A’ndi should buy some pasta for D’ex. And perhaps leave it in His weyr. And visit maybe.

“Fish is better now. He had some kinda… wormy thing. But it’s fixed now.” A’ndi shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and hands lifting from pockets only to tuck right back in. Just gettin’ comfy. “He’s getting really big,” is said with the very slightest quirk of a smile, but it only lasts a moment. “I’ll bring over some pasta. That’s no problem.” Then there’s a silence as the brownrider contemplates. Prying into someone else’s personal business isn’t usually his thing, mostly because he doesn’t care that much. But in the case of this particular ex-pirate, A’ndi’s vast field of fucks that he doesn’t give isn’t completely barren. “… He’s fighting with his family? Are they giving him shit about something?”

« I’m glad to hear that. Thank you. » The snow will swirl with approval, Zynth would be more than a little disappointed if the cat he got Tali died. It would be a total waste of effort and highly disappointing. And Zynth would be .… . sad? Yes. That. « No. D’ex does not fight with his family. He is confronting an individual in Black Rock who raped his clutchmate. » There is a pause, the blue again shifting, his touch turning slightly colder, « The chances of his being arrested is slim if he is wearing his knot, however, he is not right now. However, my getting involved violates weyr rules about hold and weyr relationship. Him getting involved does too, but he is acting without me and without his knot, so he thinks it won’t count. » The dragon rumbles softly, his mind plummeting in temperature, ice starting to crust his words, « However, if he does get arrested, I am going to get him. »

A’ndi just stares dumbfounded at Zynth. “Why? Why is he getting involved?!” Arm flap of exasperation! “Fuck it. I’ll go fucking get him. I’ll bring his sorry ass right back here. Throw him in the damn ocean til he comes to his senses.” He turns to face the blue more fully, fingers curling up into fists. Either way, D’ex is probably going to get hurt in some fashion sometime soon. “Seriously. I’ll call Taliveth.”

« Taliveth, you keep at that Werry-ing. I’m sure you are doing a great job. » Zynth starts to stand as A’ndi turns to him, « I’d really rather you didn’t. Things are under control right now and you and Tali are not exactly sudle. Nor will the watch-dragon not notice you. D’ex and I frequent Black Rock, they didn’t even ask us when I dropped him off. » His head snakes down, words tense and chilled still, « You show up and go to where D’ex is and the hold guard will follow and start asking questions. You stay here, D’ex finishes, and I get him, and no one ever knows. » Where Zynth the type of dragon to growl at someone, he might right now. He does not want D’ex doing what D’ex is doing, but A’ndi and Taliveth interfering meant problems. « If you go, you can’t bring Taliveth. He’s too obvious and wouldn’t be able to keep his thoughts to himself. If weyr or hold found out, D’ex would get in trouble and I will not allow that. » His head will inch closer to A’ndi, eyes whirling a bright agitated, « If you are going to get D’ex out of there, then I’m taking you and him and I can’t between til D’ex passes out. He’s getting too drunk to be able to direct me and it’s starting to fog my mind already. »

“How is it under control?” He’s totally baffled by that statement. “He’s drunk, getting into shit he has nothing to do with, and he might get arrested. And then his Wingleader will be pissed and-“ A’ndi sighs deeply, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He can feel the headache forming already. “Look-“ He snaps, glances up, and is surprised at first to see Zynth’s eyes; he’s not used to seeing quite that much expression on that narrow face. When A’ndi continues, his voice has lost its edge. “I don’t want to make things worse for him, all right? I won’t do it if you think it’s a bad idea. I just want him back here in one piece. And no cells involved.” A hand is slowly held out towards Zynth, and it just hovers in waiting. The dragon can decide if it is acceptable or not.

« It’s under control because no one knows any of that right now. And they Won’t know if things continue as they are. He is isolated right now, getting drunk, and already involved. It’s a little late to be stopping him, he’s already there and has been for a few hours. » The Blue will stop talking, his cold shifting to a more storm-like consistently, heavy and tense. Waiting. Zynth wants him back too. The offered hand will be studied a moment, situation turned over in the dragonic-mind and knowing he is on a time limit. He can’t Between with D’ex too drunk, and it was getting closer. He didn’t always pass out with D’ex, and he’s been preparing to fight that when the time comes, but… . finally, the sharp nose will lower and press into A’ndi’s hand. « Come on. I can’t take you directly to him, but I can get you close. He’s in a boat house behind the docks. I can take you to the docks. Don’t punch him in the right eye, he’s slower to block on the left. » And the blue will crouch down again, D’ex’s immaculate leathers still strapped on, though loosely.

“Of course he’s in a fucking boat house behind the fucking docks…” A’ndi grumbles. Because it really does sound like just the sort of place you’d find a D’ex. The D’ex’s natural habitat. There is some hesitation in mounting someone else’s dragon without that someone else present. But they’re on a mission! A’ndi divests himself of his own knot, tucking it carefully away. And he’s already in civilian clothes. Now he can be like Taliveth— an incognito wherry. A little satellite beep boops softly through their mind spaces, just keeping tabs. Then the brownrider scrambles up, becoming a temporary substitute bluerider. It’s weird! “You’re so skinny,” he comments, just an observation.


Black Rock Harbor
At sea-level, a massive harbor is protected from the worst of the ocean's weather by the curve of the coastline. A large, stone and paved dock extends northwest into the water, breaking the waves and providing a safe place for smaller vessels to drop anchor. At the end of this stone dock, several floating wooden docks branch out, making it easier to bring larger ships into the harbor; their cargo wheels along the paved dock to a series of ramps at the bottom of the cliffs.

« I prefer ‘fine boned’. » And the Blue is up, off, and blinking between barely a hundred feet off the ground. Small was nice for things like that. Zynth twists in the air above Black Rock, his mind reaching out in a friendly greeting to the Watch-Dragon before spiralling down toward the docks. There are people here, but not many at this tide, ships didn’t want to come in or go out for a few hours when they wouldn’t have to fight the wind. Zynth touches down lightly, shaking his wings slightly and leaving them open to appear slightly bigger as the few dock workers cast them wary glances. « Head East. There should be an unused boat house just down that way-» The blue’s muzzle jerks in the direction he means, images of the building flickering to A’ndi in little wisps. « He won’t hurt you. I promise. But you aren’t going to like it. » Just a warning? Perhaps?

WOW OKAY THAT WAS FAST. Is what A’ndi might say if he hadn’t been left speechless. He’s been on a couple blues before as a passenger, but never as the driver, and never on a blue quite like Zynth. Fast dragon is fast. He finally releases the straps from tightly-gripping, white-knuckled hands and clambers down to the ground, giving a quick glance around to see who exactly is in the vicinity. It doesn’t take him long at all to clearly be on High Alert; there were places in Southern Barrier that were not what one would call safe, and that old instinct comes back, along with a radiating aura of Keep-Out-Of-My-Personal-Space. The ultra-blue’s warning is accepted with a nod and mouth set in a grim line. Taliveth’s presence shifts from soft, distant satellite beeps to an odd, low static where ghostly clips of voices emerge and then drift away. With one last look cast to Zynth, A’ndi goes on his way, heading east as the slim dragon indicated, off to whatever inevitable disaster awaits at the boat house.

The boathouse itself is not a particularly impressive place. Weather-worn and salt-stained, the building is the sort that a neighborhood committee might vote on to remove if Black Rock had things like neighborhood committees. Then again, they might not vote to remove it, as it does provide a nice space for doing things that need not be done out in the open. There are doors that lock, it has no windows that cannot be blocked, and there is a roof that does not allow a person to get wet if unsavory things need to be done while it is raining. I guess it would depend on the committee. A young man leans casually against the main door of the building, yawning and pausing to lean down and tie up his boot again. Silly knots keep coming undone. Nothing to see here, he’s not on guard or standing here to keep anyone out of the building. Nuuuuuu. Just, you know, hanging out. He even brought his lunch. And you know, that bright stock of curly red hair can just be ignored. There’s a lot of teens around town with that. Nothing suspicious.

There are probably ways around this. Maybe looking around the building for a different entrance. Maybe finding a way to cleverly distract or incapacitate the guard-who-totally-isn’t-a-guard. But isn’t that what Lynx riders are for? And here we have an Ocelot. Basically sending a fighter-class to go do a rogue’s job. But maybe A’ndi has good Intimidation stats! Cause we all know his Diplomacy stats are probably shit. wait am I still in the right game ANYWAY. The brownrider strides right up, stopping to give a sweeping up and down look at the young man, pausing in particular at that hair. Is everyone in Black Rock related or what— “Who taught you how to tie knots?” ‘Because you’re doing it wrong’ is what his tone implies.

“Huh?” The youth looks up with a jerk, blinking at this dude who seemingly materialized out of no where. He stands up, trying to lessen those incredible intimidation stats, however, given his height, that is a difficult thing to do. “Does it matter? I don’t see anyone complaining about how I tie my boots.” The tone implies sass, however fails in the actual dishing of sass. The teen’s demeanor is skittish, voice a bit louder than actually necessary. “Piss off dude, No one is asking how to tie knots!” The hostility is more of a trapped animal than true aggression and though the youth bears no apprentice knot, he’s hand will twitch toward the small, worn blade at his belt. Brown eyes dart over A’ndi without recognition and the boy almost becomes more wary because of it. “Don’t ‘cha have someone else to criticize?”

“Actually, now that you mention it, I do. I have someone to deeply, painfully criticize for his unfortunate life choices. Maybe you can point me in his direction.” A brow is arched sharply, blue eyes flicking to the door and back to the young man, like HINT HINT. “He’s about this tall-“ A’ndi holds a hand up to indicate approximate D’ex-height. “-and his hair looks a lot like yours. Freckles. Stupid shit-eating grin most of the time. He’s probably drunk right now. Have you, by any chance, seen someone matching this description? I mean, aside from most of this fucking Hold…” He’s going to keep his comments about inbreeding to himself for now.

The boy grows more and more tense the more A’ndi talks. “No. No clue who you could possibly be talking about. So shove off Mister.” His arms fold, expression set, but the mask fragile. “Like you said, that could be almost anyone in the hold, so I think you should turn around and head back in that direction. Maybe you’ll find the chap you’re looking for.” The boy jerks a thumb meaningfully away from the door and back toward the path to town. Of course, terrible timing is terrible and the sound of a crash might be heard from behind the door. The boy jumps in surprise, eyes darting to it a moment, then re-insinuating himself between it and A’ndi, “Go away dude!!! None-a your business!”

Oh, the put-upon SIGH that escapes the brownrider. A long stare at the boy, and the world’s slowest blink. “I was really trying to give you the benefit of a doubt. But look where that gets me-“ A’ndi blinks up at the door at the crash. No more time to play games. A sharp look refocuses on the young man as A’ndi closes in, breaking his own rules of personal space. His expression is very much like when you reach out tentatively to pet an unfamiliar, grumbling cat, and they’re deciding just how badly they’re going to hurt you. “Kid. Move.”

The Kid Moves. Eyes wide, nearly stepping on the un-tied boot laces then turns and runs toward town as fast as he can. The moment the door is open, A’ndi will be hit by the smell of iron. Blood. Within the dim building, there is almost nothing, the two boats that live here have been moved to the side, creating a large open space in the largest section of the place, here two chairs have been set up, one surrounded by a collection of now-empty bottles. The other tipped over, and the man tied in it bound and gagged. Blood pours down one side of his face, features not totally distinguishable under the swelling and bruises. The chair appears to have been kicked over, or perhaps the man had struggled enough to knock it over himself, not that it improves his situation, hands and feet tied to the chair with the efficiency that can only come from years of rope-work at sea. The stone floor is stained dark, shards of glass sparkling in some patches. Over this mess stands D’ex, knife in one hand, ear in the other. Boots that are usually so very clean are splattered in red, left eye shadowed with a purple surely given to him a few hours ago. D’ex looks up and freezes, expression flat as the liquor-shook brain tries to peice together two conflicting facts. A’ndi was in the boat house and D’ex was not done yet. This didn’t work. “Please Leave.”

A hand clenches on the handle of the door, steadying himself against the smell, the sight, and the shiver that runs through him. Whether it’s anger or fear, even he’s not entirely sure at the moment. Taliveth feels it, channeling to Zynth, the static growing louder, layered with an odd screeching noise. Not ear piercing, just strange. Distorted, warped signals traveling through space, cutting in and out, probably not helped by the galactic fog that begins to gather. A’ndi takes that first step in, then another, slowly closing the door with a creak behind him. His fingers linger on the handle as he continues to move forward, til it’s finally out of reach. Boots crunching over bits of glass, the brownrider approaches D’ex, stopping in front of him to hold an expectant hand out. For the knife. Not the ear. Just to clarify. DON’T GIVE HIM THE EAR D’EX, YOU ARE NOT VAN GOGH and it wouldn’t be a proper gift anyway because it’s not your ear.

No worries, D’ex makes no move to hand over the ear or the knife. Instead, D’ex just stands there, frozen. Though A’ndi’s impressive intimidation stats worked well on the mini-redhead outside, this redhead is non-pulsed. He watches the approach and though a frown will cloud his face, he will not yet move. “Please Leave and Close the Door Behind You.” D’ex’s tone is flat, eyes sliding away from A’ndi a moment as the man in the chair starts to squirm. “I’m kinda busy righ’ now. You’d bring my damn dragon, did you? I’ve got tweny more minutes and two more beers. If you wan’ to wait outside, that’z fine.” The words are slow, slurred, but when he will step away from A’ndi, his movements smooth despite the slight sway. “Tweny. Give it Tweny.” His tone shifting from the flat, border-line polite to a sharper, more aggressive as the words shift to the man in the chair, “Think you can last tweny more? Hmmmm? Three hours is a lon’ time to be tied up.”

That whole thing about leaving is quite handily ignored. We are well past the point of walking away. “D’ex. Zynth is waiting for you. And you’re a fucking mess.” Despite the cursing, A’ndi’s tone remains neutral. He follows slowly after D’ex, though he keeps a few feet of distance between them. He looks down at the rather gruesome scene, frowning and brows furrowed. “Who is this guy to you?”

“I met him four hours ago.” D’ex continues to back away, slowly letting his feet take him in a leisurely circle back toward the man in the fallen chair, “He raped my sister. Tied her up for three hours. He raped her with a broom. I’m not sure if that counts, but it ripped her up on the inside and he let her bleed out. A’ndi. Leave. ’m not done with the bastard yet.” His eyes never leave the man as he speaks, only turning back to A’ndi at these last few words, “Tweny more minutes and ’m done. I really am not up to a pep talk right now or your opinions on whores or Zynth’s ideas about rules nor do I really want to know why you’re here. But ’m Not Done, so you are going to have to wait. There are ways the world works. I’m returning order to things.” Regardless of whether or not D’ex believes the ramble, or even if he has actually been keeping track of time, his arch away from A’ndi will slow the closer he gets to his goal. The man in the chair strains against his bonds, D’ex’s knife sliding uncleaned back into it’s sheath, the ear tossed carelessly toward the man on the ground.

“So that’s what he meant by ‘clutchmate.’ Dragons…” And their dragonspeak. He otherwise listens to the bluerider’s rant silently, slowly folding his arms across his chest. “What’s the intention here? Are you planning to off him? Do you even know what you’re doing?” In A’ndi’s logical world, a crap-ton of booze isn’t necessarily needed to exact vengeance.

“No, fuck A’ndi, I don’t fucking kill people anymore. I made a promise!” D’ex Crouches, fingers slipping under the chair and hefting upward. The man squirms, but D’ex will mange to right it and turn back toward his own abandoned chair, “I’m not going to kill him. I’m not. I promised I wouldn’t. No matter how much he deserves it.” One of two remaining closed bottles will be scooped up and opened. A drink will be taken out of it, and then the bottle will be tipped, beer glugging out onto the ground. D’ex starts walking again, alcohol pouring out in a trail as he moves. “I’m cleaning. Everyone knows the best sterilization is not soap.” D’ex world does not require a crap-ton of booze with revenge, but it does help.

That other bottle? A’ndi is gonna snag that. Because YOU KNOW, now might be a good time for a little drink. He pops it open and takes a big ass gulp to wash down all this WTFery. A hand wipes across his mouth and he blurts out, “Okay.“ Back to business. “So you’re not going to kill him. But he’s seen you right? What’s going to keep him from coming after you? Or turning you in?” totally not helping the guy’s case. at allllllll.

“I’m not going to kill him A’ndi. I didn’t say he wasn’t going to die.” D’ex walks a full circle around the man tossing the bottle away. “Now get Out.” The bottle lands with a clinking away, the sound loud in the large, mostly-emtpy building. Eyes have again locked on the man himself, “He’ll die, Or wish he was dead. But I’m not going to do it.” D’ex reaches into his pocket, apparently pushing his twenty minute timer, and pulls out a box of matches, “Best sterilization there is. Best kind of cleaning. Get out A’ndi.”

“….. But if you light it on fire, you lit it, and that means you killed him.” A’ndi approaches the blue rider again, a little more forcefully this time. “D’ex. I don’t blame you. We gotta protect our own. Which is why-“ A hand comes to rest on the other man’s arm. Not too tight, not threatening, but just there. “-I have to cut you off here. He’s got the message. He won’t forget it. But you can’t go any further with this, for your sake and for your dragon’s. And there are certain people back home who would be livid if they heard I didn’t haul your ass out of here.”

D’ex will tense at the touch, his form starting to coil into something that hasn’t decided if it is offensive or defensive, however he will not pull away. Eyes narrow, expression tightening, “Shut up! There are people back home who’d be livid if they knew I was here in the first place! And they will never know! Get the hell out!” However, a second touch will come, this one mental, and like A’ndi’s is not threatening or heavy. Just there. Zynth’s cold needs no words right now, D’ex already knows what the Blue has to say on the subject, but the man’s hands will tighten on the matches, “She had two kids, A’ndi. She just got the money to buy her house. She was going to get a real job. And THIS fucking asshole didn’t know how to take ‘no’ and killed her! THIS fucking bastard and you’re saying that I should just walk away now?! The Hold isn’t going to give him half of what he deserves!”

A’ndi closes his eyes, taking a little time out. Perhaps a moment to consult with Taliveth because talking things out is not A’ndi’s forte. With a deep breath, he tries again. “Look, okay, I’m not A’hali. This guy is a waste and I’m glad you kicked his ass. But this is dangerous enough for you already. If you keep going, it is seriously going to come back to get you later.” The grip on D’ex’s arm tightens. “And I am not losing anyone else to their own fucking stupidity and selfishness! After a point, you’re doing this for you, not her.”

D’ex’s attention will not waver. His grip on the matches will not loosen. His form tense and unhappy, liquor not giving him the words to argue, nor really to see the wisdom in A’ndi. However, finally, the silence will end, “Fucking damn it!” D’ex jerks away from A’ndi, brushing past him toward the door, a stream of colorful language following him. The door will be yanked open, and slammed shut the moment he is through it. Mentally cursing Zynth out as well, the blue rider strides off pace fast, and unsteady, but determined to reach his dragon and put as much distance between himself and the boathouse as possible. The Blue has moved, closer now and clear of the Docks, cold reaching out to the brown rider, « Thank you. I will take you both home now. » Though D’ex himself seems pretty determined to leave without A’ndi.

A’ndi watches in silence as D’ex vacates the premises, leaving his little friend behind, still tied up to the chair. The brownrider takes his time to walk around to stand in front of the man, leaning down a bit to look more closely at his face. “You awake?”

The man shifts slightly, the one eye not swollen shut will open, peering at A’ndi with all the wariness and distrust warrented a man who has been tied to a chair and tortured for the last few hours. There is the smallest of nods, but no words thanks to the gag. There is a small effort to lift his head, blinking at A’ndi slowly, bloodloss surly slowly reactions, but perhaps adrenaline has dulled the pain? Or perhaps he’s been here too long for that releif to remain. There is little to no fight left in the man.

“You are one lucky son of a bitch.” well depending on one’s point of you. “That I, for Faranth knows what reason, give a shit about that human disaster that just walked out.” A hand drifts towards his belt where his own small knife is kept. “Seriously, he’s a complete and utter dumpster fire of a person.” A’ndi walks back around and gets to work on cutting the ropes from one of the man’s wrists. “And apparently a fucking psycho when he’s drunk enough. Again, not that I blame him for… roughing you up.” IF THAT’S WHAT YOU WANNA CALL IT. “Anyway. I just want to make sure we can come to an understanding here. Do you think you can manage that? Just nod for me.”

The first reaction to the appearance of the knife is to wince, jerking back with the full expectation to again feel a blade. The dark stains over the man’s clothing are black and stiff, some of the first blood produced from him, though D’ex had been sure he could maintain his consciousness and still lose more. Given the state of the floor, he was right.. When A’ndi cuts ropes rather than skin, the man will relax marginally, that distrust remaining. The man nods, once, one hand coming up to loosen the gag when one hand is completely free. This is a slow movement, fingers not quite able to bend happily nor does his depth perception seem to be at it’s best at the moment.

A’ndi straightens up from his task, staring down at the back of the man’s head. He watches that free hand, but doesn’t make any further move to assist. “You stay away from him. Stay away from his family. In fact, I think you should get the fuck out of Black Rock all together. Because if I see you again-“ He starts to walk back around to the front. “-we’re going to have a problem. And I’m not going to play any of these games with you, like he did. Do you understand me?”

The man’s fingers flex slowly, trying to get some blood flowing in them again, however the movement is done without thought, his total attention on the movements and words of the dragonrider. He believes every word, it would seem, another single up and down jerk of the man’s head, however he makes no move to attempt to stand. Though very different forms, A’ndi is no less scary than D’ex, though the man does not know if A’ndi would follow through with his words. Perhaps now is a good time to move North? High Reaches is nice this time of year, right?

The ear laying flopped on the floor is nudged with the toe of his boot. “You should keep this. So the next time someone says ‘no,’ you look at it and you remember. He’s not the only angry brother out there.” A’ndi starts stepping back then towards the door. “Anyway, you can figure the rest of those ropes out yourself. I’ve given you as much help as I can stand without throwing up everywhere. Once you get out of here and get a good look at yourself, maybe you’ll do Pern a favor and finish the job on your own. There’s some nice bridges out there. Very scenic.” He ends the conversation with a right proper bird flipped at the man before turning and walking out, slamming the door behind him. When he catches up with D’ex and Zynth, he just waits silently to mount the slender dragon.

The man gives no reaction. No words. Only watches as the rider leaves. What the hell? Okay. Fingers will be flexed, then put to work at the last of the knots, fumbling and fast, a fear that perhaps the pair might come back.
D’ex sits on Zynth in silence, eyes closed, arms folded, the perfect picture of a grown man sulking, if you ignore the blood and reek of alcohol. Zynth himself will crouch when A’ndi approaches, his movements slow, both for D’ex and himself. The bluerider’s twisted fury and liquor is not being calmed this time by the dragon’s rush of cold. Still, snow will reach out to A’ndi and Taliveth, relieved. Thankful. Perhaps even that extreme gratitude that comes with Zynth owing someone else. Zynth does owe them. Big time. However, the moment that A’ndi is on and strapped, the blue is up, that desire to be away just as strong in him as it is his rider.

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