revitalised

Setting: Two months before Mauryeneth Rises at Western Weyr, Late Winter.

Context: After the Threadfall in which Mauryeneth is scored protecting one of the original South-Western Islanders, and Riza cops some of the brunt of it when her helmet falls off and Thread catches in her hair.

"It's going to scar."

It was said flatly, almost petulantly, as if the thought wasn't a mildly distressing one. As if she wasn't, as all females were whether they admitted to it or no, just vain enough to be put out by the idea of ugly things marring precious skin. But it was easier, even a little humourous, to focus on such things -- the scoring, the scarring, and even the haircut that the Queenrider was now subject to, her own doing for succumbing to sheer impulsion as she had, when Mauryeneth had first landed, keening from the searing discomfort of hot air on burns after the comfort of between.

Which was exactly the thing here, really. Focusing on those shallower things, bleak humour or not, meant Riza didn't have to look back too clearly on what she'd actually felt, and even if it fooled nobody that could call themselves friends with her [present company included, one slender little green rider applying fresh numbweed with gentle fingers and one robust little Journeywoman Healer turned hair dresser neatening the ragged ends of the new cut], it made it easier to avoid the topic of what had been a truly frightening experience for both rider and queen dragon.

They were okay. It could have been far worse. But it was a little harder to admit it was okay to be afraid, nor to hide what was, for Riza, self-inflicted humiliation [never one to do something so impulsive as hack her own hair off], and even as that wryly petulant comment made C'tra laugh softly did she have to swallow surreptitiously behind that grim little smile, and reach out for the comfort that was her life mate. Sleeping, but there, and not so deeply nor so troubled by her injuries that the Queen was averse to reaching back dozily, a thread of her mind wrapping about her riders as if she was a child and Riza, the toy that was her real comfort.

She'd be lost without her. Utterly. Demon child.

But it brought some of the tension from Riza's shoulders, and the grim little smile was at least a little more crooked and thus a little more firm as she glanced up at Sharah, the Healer stepping back in the same vein now with the scissors and thus, the queen rider assumed, somewhat satisfied with her work.

"Presentable enough, now?"

"I think so," Sharah answered with the sigh of someone that had just spent a bit of time with their mind in a project and was coming back to reality again. She circled the woman briefly, being sure to be careful around the greenrider as she studied her work from all sides before finally stilling, straightening and giving an affirmative nod and grunt. "Yes, I think that'll do quite nicely. I would have liked to have more to work with, but this one turned out quite well, if I do say so myself."

She turned, walking over to a shelf. Placing the scissors and comb down, she picked up a polished mirror, turning back toward the other two.

A slender, brown head peaked out from the curtain of auburn hair at the back of Sharah's neck, looking intently at the displaced implements before disappearing, only to reappear at her shoulder, head and body and wings shuffling off the tangling strands and then dropping off his pet to swoop back over to the shelf. Thin, dexterous hands gathered up the trimming tools, wings beating and lifting him airborne once again as he fluttered over to place them back in their proper drawer.

Meanwhile, Sharah had moved back to Riza, lifting the mirror for the other to finally see her handiwork.

Riza couldn't help but sputter at that last comment, pride somewhere deep down in there prickling at even more deeply hidden vanity, though a tart retort was conspicuously absent from her lips. But then, it was hard to be mad when young C'tra had laughed, and his hand was a gentle, soothing presence on her uninjured shoulder, even as his voice was it's characteristic stutter.

"And t-there's the Q-Queen." He gifted her with a soft smile, the kind that melted hearts, or would, if only he wasn't so terribly shy. It certainly reduced said bristling Queen Rider to a pout, though that was most certainly too to put some humour to the little grimace as she looked at herself in the polished disk.

And it wasn't bad, really. Just...different. Odd. The feeling already of cool air on the back of her neck...though it likely wasn't even the hair, really, that bothered her the most. It was the now numbed injury, the fact that despite the treatment, it would leave, eventually, the silver, lined scarring of Threadscore visibly on her face, missing eye and ear thankfully but against wide cheekbones and down the slender contours of neck nonetheless. Marring skin the palest of permanent tans from unknown, mixed ethnicity from who knew how many generations back to unknown colonists, the one thing she was actually a little more openly vain about...being only human, and female, as she was.

"Could have been worse, yeah." Riza crinkled her nose a little, turning this way and that, huffing softly when a sturdy gold firelizard landed on her good shoulder, a considering chirp sounding in her ear. C'tra's Sandrock, and her spirits were lightened by humour when the little queen [little being subjective, for she was by far the biggest firelizard in the Weyr thus far] tilted her head this way and that, preening just so at the reflection before her.

"Think it'll do, hm?" the woman drawled softly, wearily, to the creature. The response was another considering look, head tilted at her, before Sandrock rather made a point of arching her pretty golden body against an uninjured and unmarred cheek, her expressive eyes the sort that would put the most experienced of those who modeled clothing for Weavers in Keroon and Nerat to shame. Well, it's good enough to be in the same mirror as me, so it must be just fine, was what it seemed to say.

And it was enough to finally, finally, get a reluctant little smile from the frankly rather overwhelmed by the day gold rider, with her tilting her own head in quiet contemplation, though a hand strayed up to tug at the now short honey strands framing her features.

"Y-you know, if n-nothing else..the way it s-sits..." C'tra had finished wiping his hands clean, and he bent a little beside her too, "...y-you can u-use it t-to hide the worst of the sc-scarring...if you like."

"N-not that it's hideous," he added hastily, gulping nervously at the thought of unintended insult, though he settled some at the fingers petting his wrist absently. No need for him to get worked up, Riza thought, or to work him up. He wasn't one to be teased in that vein, and considering what her days as a Candidate at Ista had entailed, she was the last person likely to do so.

And he was right, it was good for hiding. She could live with that, quietly considered.

"Am I good to go, then?" She glanced away from the mirror, dark eyes meeting Sharah's. "I don't feel sick any longer, so I don't figure I need to stay the night. And I'm *hungry*...that's got to be a good thing."

Sharah gave a light laugh, nodding. "Yes, you're good to go. And yes, that is definitely a good thing. Just be sure to come back if you start feeling ill again. And I do want to see you tomorrow to make sure everything is as it should be."

The healer turned and replaced the disc on the shelf, holding her arm out absently as she moved to face the two riders again for an incoming Rivial whose graceful flight was ruined by a rather awkward landing. He recovered quickly, of course, moving to Sharah's shoulder with an I meant to do that air.

"It'll heal well, I think."

Riza secretly doubted that, but while she was perfectly happy to disagree with most people when the fancy suited her, there was a small list of people she wouldn't have words with. And Healers, quite sensibly, were one of them. Usually. Most of the time.

She was being silly, either way. She was a dragonrider. Bar the times of the Turn when Maurynneth was feeling particularly frisky, she'd given up any notion of achieving true femininity and beauty years ago. And even if she had been a dainty, gentle-faced creature [like some of them somehow managed to be, and she was fair certain those ones of her golden ilk were rather more talented at delegating the work than carrying it out], the reality was that bar the sensuality felt when Maur chose to Rise..well, she was rambling to herself, if she kept that up. Going around in circles. She certainly wasn't such a woman. Tall as a man, long-limbed, brown-skinned Riza, that was Maurynneth's rider. Even the cheekbone that would scar was wide, undecided between flat and high-bridged, and couldn't be offset by wide eyes -- the black of them tended far too often to be too intent for comfort.

No, she'd scar and be done with caring about it.

And if anything, the haircut might end with doing her more favours than she was allowing it. Like now, if she tilted her head just so, the upturn of the right corner of her lip at Rivial's blunder and C'tra's soft giggle in her ear, it looked...nice. Almost alluring, in the glow light.

"I'll be back first thing, wake you up for klah," she hummed, giving Sharah a little smirk before getting to her feet. Carefully, mind you, so she didn't provoke any further fussing, though the green firelizard that had appeared did it for her, squeaking peremptorily as she circled the blonde's head, and the little baby bronze, new to flying in such small places, bypassing her arm entirely to cling with a wince to her tunic. And by wince, it was more Riza doing so, gathering him up in her hands so as to prevent tiny claws putting holes in and pulling the material down. Which wasn't hard to do; the off the shoulder and under the arm neck line did well for the injury she now had, which was why she'd asked D'max to get it from her weyr, but it didn't handle firelizards well.

"More concerned I haven't fed anyone than actually concerned, I think," she groused, sourly amused as she looked down at what had been an entirely surprising and initially, not all that willing on her part charge. She already had enough of them, between Tawar, Cadence and Memnon, and the addition of Ra was not all that helpful to a woman in the position she was in a Weyr that was, quite frankly, a constant struggle to keep running.

But the blasted little creature had insisted, or the little green had, in her desire to have her own little fair [gold in green, more like], and he was sweet if nothing else.

"Are either of you coming?"

C'tra shook his head, before glancing at Sharah. "I-I may j-just h-head back to my w-weyr, if th-there's nothing else."

Sharah shook her head as well, "I have a few things I need to finish up here, but it's mostly just record keeping, C'tra. You," she said, looking pointedly at Riza, though it was accompanied by an amused and kindly smile, "go eat. And then get some rest!"


T'skal had just finished his meal, hunger having taken precedence over hygiene, and he dropped his plate off among the other dirties. Well, now that that was taken care of, it was time for a bath. He still reeked of firestone, sweat and dragon, and while he didn't usually mind the far latter the other two needed to be taken care of.

Ra creeled where he was settled against her at the mention of eating, and Riza snorted quietly as much at that as Sharah's words as she turned away and moved out into the night. It was refreshing to do so too, even if it was growing colder, and C'tra echoed her silent sentiments beside her with a soft sigh and a tilt of his chin upward to the inky sky, though he said nothing aloud.

Not for the first time, she wondered what exactly has brought the little green rider here. She still remembered the lithe, tiny boy he'd been [and she remembered the bruises too, the kind that had come with getting into fights with Ralyon and his cronies, the horrid shit-for-brains group that had been set on bullying people and lording over the group in Candidacy], and though he had certainly grown up some since leaving Ista Weyr for Fort Weyr after graduation, less painfully shy and more just soft-spoken and soft-tempered period, Riza still doubted he had a single bone in his body that would cause him to commit a crime...let alone survive the harshness that often came with exile. Even with his darling of a dragon.

And yet he was doing that, it seemed. Surviving. And she'd ask him one day, perhaps, when it was as much genuine concern as it was curiosity. But not now. It had been a long day, already far too emotional and dramatic for even Duo's tastes, and so Riza left it alone, simply enjoying the quiet, expectation-less company of the man beside her and the admiring of the cold, moonless night above them in their journey across the Weyrbowl.

The sky is very clear tonight.

The sleepy voice was a blanket to wrap around her mind, and Riza smiled, her eyes seeking and finding Mauryenneth up on the Rim. The gold dragon would be out on a night like this, though it was likely exhaustion [and for some comfort, she thought guiltily] after their day that had her out there, sharing space with other dragons. It looked as though Rakorth was deep asleep on one side, sprawled on his own side like a cat with his back against the gold dragoness. Riza couldn't make out who it was on the other side [it was too dark and they were too dark] and was too tired to really try, but if Maurynneth wasn't kicking up a fuss, then she wouldn't bother with it.

Are you feeling okay? Anything hurting?

No. I wasn't scored nearly as badly as you, and they were kind enough to remove my harness once I knew you would live. 'They' was left ambiguous as Mauryenneth yawned and lowered her head once more, though the quiver in her form didn't escape her rider at the 'you would live' quip. The Queen was a sardonic one at times, but there was no hiding from anyone, least of all her rider, after a near miss, and Riza was more than happy to communicate her love and affection over in kind, the strength of it a testament to her being very much alive, and let her lifemate cling to her mind for security as she drifted back into sleep.

Unfortunately, it meant she wasn't quite ready for the bright glow of the Caverns as they entered, and certainly didn't have a chance upon realising, too late at the playful wolf whistle, that of course Duo would be still waiting, and of course, in typical form, would immediately take to teasing her. It was how the git coped with everything, and she nearly ducked back out past C'tra [only a third joking, at that], the action practically instinctive at the attention drawn to her rather foreign still and definitely less presentable state before her friend's laughingly sympathetic voice called her out.

"Oh stop it, y'cranky old mother. Come an' eat. There's hardly no-one in here anyway."

"Anyone," she corrected automatically, ignoring C'tra's stifled chuckles pointedly as she went back into the light, if not quite as chin-up proud as she would have liked. Far too sore for it, though it didn't stop her swiping some of the almost unholy amount of crackling Duo had on his plate as she passed by. His outraged yelp at his food being filched was met by her black eyes narrowed at him daringly as the piece of meat was stuck with affected arrogance between her teeth, and she left him to pout with a equally affected, she knew chastened air and a mutter of 'bully' before continuing on her way, chewing on what she'd bitten off and offering the rest to the urgently chirruping Ra as she walked gingerly [and definitely a little self-consciously now Duo wasn't distracting her] towards the hearth.

T'skal had gone back to the hearth for one last look at the food offered there, considering whether to take some with him or not, before deciding he had gotten his fill for now and that taking a plate of food into the baths would be odd anyway. He had turned away from the flames, making his way toward the exit, when something stopped him. A head of blonde hair, a tall broad-shouldered woman...a new face? No, he recognized this one. It was the gold rider Riza. Though she did look quite different with the shorter locks.

He had always held an odd respect for this one, as a person in general but particularly as a gold rider. She held a calm, cool confidence that so few gold riders showed. She kept her head, from what he had seen, and he certainly appreciated that.

Today, though, that confidence seemed to be slackened.

She and Mauryenneth were scored. They were protecting another. The gravelly rumble sounded exhausted in his mind, but the bronze, despite his tired state, was still ever attentive to what was happening around him.

Sleep, T'skal ordered, though his gratitude to his bonded was clear.

The bronze rider took a step forward, setting back into his previously interrupted path which now passed by the tired-looking Riza.

There was a short moment of uncertainty, but T'skal's large hand reached out as she passed him, ruffling the soft, short strands before releasing in time to avoid any backlash. He paused a few steps past her, looking at her over his shoulder, ready for the expected indigence and giving a small, soft, genuine smile in response, "It suites you."

In a blink, the bronze rider had turned his back fully to her once again, moving steadily toward the door.

There were definitely words Riza might use to describe herself, but interestingly enough, calm was not one of them. Calm was what she aimed to be on the surface, as constantly as possible [almost controlling, a control freak to her own self], but it was not, one would come to realise, her natural state of being. Not deep down, not when the layers were peeled away. She was water, born and bred to it in every way. Still on the surface—

Though as liable to laugh at the idea of it, if anybody got poetic about it, and not kindly either.

Whether it was true or not.

She would have definitely been liable to laugh at one thing though, if reading the inner thoughts of men was more than the stuff of wishfulness. Considering her very first real encounter with the big bronze rider [and she nearly ran into him when she turned and he moved, and there was a look of mild reproach from both woman and small bronze thing clinging to her gazing up at him just momentarily for it] had been…less than easy-going. If anything, it would make the notion of being called calm by the same man a true fit of contrariness, considering the dubious honour he held of antagonising her, just enough, to set her easy-going Queen snarling and growling and threatening.

Maurynneth was growling again now, but there was absolutely nothing threatening about it. It was sudden and low and pitched all at once, a noise that was one part curiousity and three parts startled, a sound that was a reflection of what her rider didn’t voice aloud, but certainly showed, just briefly – the Queen’s head lifting from her paws and looking about for the masculine source of the response of her rider [for her, Golgameth rather than his rider] with head canted high and whirling eyes the draconic equivalent of human eyes darker than dark and saucer-wide in a moment of unguarded response [and with injured and abused and burning skin, somehow all the more terribly vulnerable for that moment] to another.

But then Maurynneth snorted, a blowy, quivering exhalation of breath, lowering her head back to her front legs when large eyes narrowed just so again, and a lightly freckled nose crinkled at T’skal before Riza turned away to the hearth once more.

Ignoring, quite blatantly mind, the sudden silence from D’max, and the appearance of her older bronze firelizard on her shoulder, a little demon staring the big man down like a hunter’s protective pointer hound.

And definitely not seeing, thankfully, what was an incredibly telling, gotcha kind of smirk directed at T’skal by the prickly, curly-haired, three legged blue firelizard holding green rider waiting up for him at the entrance.

T'skal did, indeed, miss the expressions he left behind.

The one before him, however...

He gave a sigh and a lightly exasperated frown, though it was hardly an unpleasant look (at least, to those that knew him). "I don't need to hear it from you. Quit your smirking."

It appeared he wasn't going to get away from it, though, as he felt the amused rumble from his Bronze, and T'skal grunted. There was another draconic chuckle in his head, and then silence as the great beast fell back to sleep.

“Or what? You’ll stick me on firestone lugging duty? Too late for that – your friend the Weyrwoman here already did that.” Folara nudged his side with an elbow playfully, though her voice was as sour as it was amused. “In case you didn’t notice where I was today…you know, lookin’ at Maurynneth’s flying patterns or something. Apparently the echelon here holds grudges though – the lead egg machine here didn’t like it when I called her a hag for bringing us here, even though it was aaaages ago now.”

Sour and amused or not, Folara ultimately shrugged, and it was testament to how far she’d come as a person [despite what others often thought] that she wasn’t hanging on to that perceived injustice. If anything, she seemed to revel in it a little – bitter in her boxed in position as a green rider, especially now in this larger place, but perfectly willing to use the resources she now had to her advantage. Even if said resources were just a bigger group and more females to hide in, and petty revenges against Clarra and the majority of her minions.

“And don’t start worrying about me either, before you do.” That was said in response to the grunt, not knowing it was a retort to Golgameth, though Folara did look up at the Rim where there were dragons at that moment too…and smirked a little again, at the sight of the jewelled eyes in the night, watching them cross the Rim over that Romanesque nose that was far too broad for true beauty in a queen dragon. But Folara even at her most contrary could acknowledge good stock when she saw it, and though the dragon paired to the woman T’skal was now emphatically denying overt interest in through his silence wasn’t pretty in the face, there was something to be said…or a lot, for the deep, muscular hindquarters, the wide chest and the large nostrils. And of course, the large wings, folded though they were…all things more than worth their weight in…well, literal gold, and assets that would tell a real story at the end of the day.

Or a real helluva Flight.

“Better start working your ass out, though. I know you’ve been getting lazy since we got here.” Oh no, no telling her to quit anything was going to stop Folara. Not ever, especially with that grin as she watched Maurynneth’s long tail twitch, feline-like. Green was only a colour to a human, after all, and she knew this man better than any. Respected him more than any man she knew too, but that was only relevant when it was…well, relevant.