Silverlight curiosity tag: T'ruk/Ghost

[foulee]

It was early morning at Ice Stone Weyr, and Larsley Filt sat in a corner, his half eaten breakfast and glass of klah laid out on a table in front of him. He'd been unable to see any dragon hides up close since coming here, due to his nearsightedness preventing him from viewing anything more than blurs in the sky. One dragon he particularly wished to see up close was a Silverlight. He'd heard much about Ice Stone Weyr's Silverlights back home. Stories about the controversy they caused. It'd led to drastic consequences for the weyr. And it'd hardened his decision to move up to this weyr, instead of the closer Rainbow Mists. He wanted to know everything about the Silverlights. But first he had to consider his half finished meal.

Having finished it, and eager for more klah, Larsley picked up his glass, and made his way into the incoming throng of people. But he'd misjudged how far away some people were, and nearly collided with one of them. "Sorry" he said, glad the glass was empty.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

T’ruk rocked back and to one side. Despite the point made by his classmate T’vax, he himself found combat training most useful in that it gave one the ability to more neatly avoid collisions.

“No problem,” he answered. The meeting would doubtless have terminated there, as did many taking place during the obtaining of meals, save for the intervention of one Tungull, who planted his Midnight self on Larsley’s upper arm and chirped.

[foulee]

Larsley was only too glad the young rider had avoided his collision and hadn't taken offence. He blamed his nearsightedness for the near calamity. He would've left it at that too if the midnight hadn't landed on his upper arm and chirped. The actions of the fire lizard surprised him, and he almost tripped from the shock.

Steadying himself, he suddenly felt awkward with the rider's flit perched on his arm and needed to break the silence, even if he wasn't extroverted. "So uh what kind of dragon do you ride?" Larsley hoped the flit would depart his arm for its master's shoulder, he hadn't had a fire lizard for a pet and wasn't used to his new status as its perch. But he didn't want to offend the rider so he kept silent about it.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

T’ruk opened his mouth, intending to call Tungull back. Surely, this person had far better things to do than get stopped in line by a Midnight flitt. However, before he could say anything, the other young man took matters into his own hands, asking after T’ruk’s dragon. It was a good choice of subject, T’ruk could go on forever about Azeriuth. Well, that was true for most riders and their dragons, but for the still rather quiet T’ruk, it was more readily noticeable. He didn’t think it unusual that the man didn’t recognize the coloring of the knots; he still had some trouble telling some of the combinations apart.

“Silverlight,” he answered. He rocked back, then corrected his statement to an actual introduction. “T’ruk, of Silverlight Azeriuth.”

Tungull rotated his head and neck, so that his head was practically upside down, regarding Larsley with blue-green whirling friendly and curious eyes.

[foulee]

"A Silverlight!" Larsley's gold eyebrows raised slightly at the revelation. He preferred the easier task of asking for a dragon's color rather than trying to figure out the knots himself. His attention was so drawn to T'ruk being a Silverlight rider that he completely failed to notice the midnight flit. He wanted to know everything about these dragons, everything concerning the controversy, and now he had the chance to do so. "Do you mind answering a couple of questions?" He hoped T'ruk wasn't in any rush. Larsley brushed his hair out of his eyes and gestured to a nearby empty bench. The middle of a crowd was no setting to hold an interview.  

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

T’ruk grinned. Some of Larsley’s excitement was clearly catching, and it opened the door for T’ruk to converse freely. “No, of course not.” He was happy. Meeting someone who was excited about what dragon you rode was always a bonus to any day. “Just let me get some meat scraps for the flitts. I’ll be right back.”

T’ruk slipped off, coming back not a handful of seconds later with a bowl of scraps, which the three firelizards hovered over, as if worried that it might disappear between. Joining Larsley on the bench, he tossed several scraps up in the air, so that the firelizards could dive after them — a game they greatly enjoyed — and glanced over at Larsley, eyes open in a relaxed face, clearly willing to answer questions.

[foulee]

Larsley sat on the bench and began tapping his fingers on the table, while trying to think of as many questions concerning Silverlights as he could before T'ruk came back. The rider returned with the bowl of meat and began tossing scraps in the air. Larsley had been uncomfortable when the flit landed on his upper arm. But he didn't mind feeding them. He began by asking T'ruk if he could have a few of the scraps. Then he slid a hand into the bowl, pulled some out, and began flinging them into the air. "So what makes Silverlights so unique beyond the color of their hides?" He expected there was more to these dragons than their looks that stoked the controversy at Ice Stone.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

T’ruk’s answer to Larsley’s first question was a quick nod and a fleeting smile. The firelizards, of course, demonstrated their approval of a second food source by swooping around after the flying scraps. Guyaky was the best at it, being agile enough to swoop from one source to the other while snapping scraps out of the air. Atanek and Tungull preferred a hovering method, Tungull taking the Larsley’s supply by Atanek’s decree.

“Well, I’m not as conversant on the politics of it all, mostly that there’s disagreement revolving around the fact that most Silverlights cross-Impress,” T’ruk shrugged. “People got worried about the effects and possible duty crossovers that could happen with two men at the top, then the Hold got involved…”

“By being a bunch of biased Thread-bait dimglows,” a deeper voice, that of a young man rather than a boy, cut in from behind.

T’ruk half-jumped, snapping his head around towards the speaker, a tall and lanky pale blond who was leaning casually against a pillar, shoulders graced by two firelizards, one Pink and one Aurora.

“T’vax!” T’ruk exclaimed.

“My apologies for startling you. I just couldn’t resist the chance,” T’vax said, bowing slightly.

[foulee]

The midnight flit who so abruptly greeted him earlier was deftly snatching the scraps he threw. If he ended up with a flit as friendly as the midnight, he might go for an egg at the next clutch.

Cross impression? That was it? Dragons had died, just before the hatching, in an assault by outraged holders. If the rumors were to be believed, then the Silverlight controversy might've caused it. If all the hype about dragons impressing the "wrong" gender somehow led to the hatching tragedy, then those dragons had died for nothing. Larsley was a logical man, whoever the hatchling impressed was the right choice, regardless of gender, so he couldn't understand the reasoning behind it. As long as the weyr wasn't run by sociopaths, what did the holders have to fear?

He was about to question T'ruk further when a deep voice interrupted his train of thought. He turned his head slightly to view the speaker. The thin, blond man leaning against a pillar had summed up his thoughts exactly. Larsley usually wasn't one to use that word when it came to describing less competent people, but the controversy was apparently in effect because they were dimglows. He didn't mind the interruption, the man clearly had something to say about the matter. T'ruk's response was enough to introduce the man.

"Hello, Larsley Filt" he said with a grin, "And you've encountered this bias before I assume?". It was clear from the other's tone that the controversy was personal to him. But his knots showed he wasn't a Silverlight rider, so it obviously affected him another way. Larsley tossed another scrap up and cupped his head in his hand, leaning on the table so he had a clear view of T'vax.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

“You could say that,” T’vax replied with a quick grin. He didn’t particularly recall having seen the young man before — not unusual, given the size of the Weyr — but he was still… pleasantly surprised that the other youth did not appear to recognize him in any way. Of course, it probably was just all in his head that people looked at him askance. It wasn’t like he’d ever even thought about re-opening communications with… that man.

T’ruk turned a greater degree of his attention to the firelizards. He was just as glad T’vax had turned up. He was still more one for small amounts of conversation, though he was perfectly willing to listen to others talk.

“It’s really getting a little ridiculous,” T’vax continued. “The Lord’s listening to his younger half-brother, who keeps trying to come up with ways to attack the Weyr, in addition to being completely insane.” There was definitely an edge on T’vax’s voice, anger laced through with resentment and even hatred. With an expressive shrug and a quick headshake, T’vax brought his voice back to a more neutral, conversational tone. “It just gets under my skin; the dragons acknowledge Silverlights as Queens — excepting T’ruk’s handsome guy — so that would seem to be the end of it.”

“Hey, Noixay! You proselytizing again? Or just trying to spread word about never-emerging soon-to-come attacks? Funny how you somehow didn’t mention the actual attack! Never gave any warning it was coming! O’ course, maybe you just didn’t want to mess up daddy’s plan!”

There was a burst of laughter from across the room. Clearly the shouter’s friends shared some of his attitudes. T’vax flushed.

“It’s Cavernborn, not Noixay!” he shouted back.

The only response from across the room was more laughter. T’vax started to take a step forward, clearly intending to begin something, only to get pulled up short by T’ruk standing up to block his path.

“Get out of my way,” T’vax hissed.

“Not now, not here,” T’ruk answered back, looking almost surprised at the words leaving his mouth. “Can’t you see it’s what they want.”

T’vax grimaced, but he leaned back against the wall and again returned his attention to Larsley. “Where were we?” he asked, in the flat voice of someone trying to pretend things don’t matter.

[foulee]

Larsley hoped T’vax might elaborate on what he meant. Who did he know who saw Silverlights as unworthy of their status? Who was this younger brother? Obviously T’vax hated him. There was a definite change in tone when he mentioned the man. New questions revealed themselves as Larsley listened to the blond.

There was another reason to put this so called controversy to rest...dragons knew best when it came to their matters. He doubted a lord holder would take advice from a dragon when it came to his business. He was about to ask T’vax who had such low regard for the Silverlights when they were interrupted by a shout from another table.

So T’vax’s surname is…was Noixay?” He’d heard it before. And he was certain it carried dangerous associations. T’ vax’s response was enough confirmation. He’d never seen anyone become hostile over a name before. He seemed about ready to attack T'ruk even. He didn't want an interview to turn into a full on fight. He wouldn't be able to stand up for himself. When T’vax leaned back against the wall and pretended nothing had gone wrong, Larsley sighed in relief and decided to follow his lead. He tuned out the laughter and picked up where they left off, hoping to distract the blond rider from going on a potentially violent rampage. “So this younger brother is N…” Here he stopped. He’d seen T’vax’s reaction to the name and admitting out loud his relation to the “insane man” might earn him the rider's wrath. So he rephrased his question “So who is this younger brother?”

((OOC: Sorry for the delay))

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

The situation was not about to explode. T’ruk covertly let out a breath in relief, reaching up to rub a hand along Atanek’s back, settling some of the flitt’s agitation. He’d seem a handful of fights over the subject of Silverlights and/or T’vax’s name and had no desire to see another one.

“So this younger brother is N…” T’ruk winced, his eyes flicking from Larsley to T’vax. He let out another quiet breath when Larsley changed the question to: “So who is this younger brother?”

T’vax tensed. With a mental farewell to hope, he answered. “Tiberax. Tiberax Noixay.” Amazingly, he didn’t spit the name, although it was pretty obvious from the twist in his mouth that he’d wanted to. The words were blunt, the tone… challenging, daring Larsley to make something of the connection.

((OOC: No problem. Delays happen to everyone ))

[foulee]

Tiberax. Tiberax Noixay. He'd thought he'd heard that name being mentioned before, probably in some conversation he overheard. He kept eye contact with T'vax. Larsley wanted to look away but it would acknowledge the connection. Instead he played it safe and pretend Tiberax was a stranger. "So who is this Tiberax, what has he done?" He already knew the man's relationship to the lord holder, but his ex-son might give more details. It was strange to think of T'vax that way, the connection was at the front of his mind, yet he was choosing his words carefully. He'd never completely seen eye to eye with his own father, but for his son to completely deny the relationship existed was enough for Larsley to imagine what sort of man he was.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

T’vax paused. There was a moment when the fire of challenge still lit his eyes, then he gave Larsley a deep nod. Almost a bow, for all that he inclined nothing but his head. When he raised his head again, that cold fire was absent, replaced by simple friendly warmth. There might even have been a little hint of gratitude there, for the other man’s willingness to pretend. To allow him that modicum of hard-earned distance between himself and the monster who’d sired him.

Amazingly, he managed to speak in a fairly normal tone of voice. “Well, he started by forming this gang of like-minded idiots. Then he had A’mir of Silverlight Sayurith kidnapped. He somehow convinced Lord Brencis that some crazy rogue Crimson rider was actually X’kel. He worked with his brother two kidnap a couple young riders — fortunately they were able to escape before he killed them. That’s about it, except for his continued plan to attack the Weyr somehow.” T’vax didn’t mention that he was one of those kidnapped riders. Nor did T’ruk say a word about it. T’ruk did pass an inquiring glance along at T’vax, but let it slide away after a second or two.

[foulee]

There was a brief moment where T'vax seemed ready to pounce on Larsley. He knew T'ruk would try provide assistance, but it might not be enough in fending off the crazed attack. He was prepared to run if it came to it.

But the blond rider merely nodded his head and the challenging glare subsided. A subtle hint of air escaped Larsley's lips once T'vax resumed a placid mood. His ploy had worked. He relaxed and listened with intense interest to all that T'vax had to say about the man who was once his father. But what stuck out for him was the involvement of Lord Brecis. As a lord holder's son, Larsley was taught to have a certain sense of devotion to the holders he would reign over, even if he wasn't the best man for the job. So hearing that Lord Brencis might be compliant in the kidnapping of riders was a shock to him. No lord should put anyone in danger for any reason. "His brother, Lord Brencis, was involved in a kidnapping?" T'vax might've referred to another sibling so he had to be sure.