Will you, won’t you join the dance? [ Kat ]

[Kilnarak]

Since the Winglets had first been allowed to begin their flying lessons, Teimoph spent a good portion of his waking hours practicing and improving his flight. Of course there were the lessons themselves, amidst the rest of the class and overseen by Canph, but often on his own time Teimoph practiced as well. The young red would find empty places where he would not be bothered and would practice, leaping into the air and beating his wings. While at first it had proven difficult for him, he only had more and more success as he kept at the practice, his wing-muscles growing stronger and better able to achieve lift. At first, he had insisted N'raan come along with him on these practice sessions, but he had since begun to allow His a small measure of freedom - there was only so much a human could do while he flapped and soared, and he wasn't so stubborn as to understand that His needed to stretch as well, if not wings then other muscles.

And so N'raan had found himself with at least a few brief moments of freedom in which Teimoph did not insist upon dictating his actions - of course the red did expect him to be exercising; to be building his strength for when they would fly together as warriors. He wasn't, actually, entirely sure if Teimoph was watching to make certain that he was doing as he was bade to - for all that Teimoph could rage like a whirlwind, the red had learned to be surprisingly subtle in the art of peering into the unguarded corners of N'raan's mind. Thus on edge, N'raan felt it best to play along for now, to wait until the young simourv was distracted before he found more entertaining means of exercise.

N'raan had set himself up in the sparring 'arena' which their ever so lovely Wingletmaster, K'huna, had set up for weapons practice. He had staked out one of the training dummies for his own, and while he had a wooden practice spear set aside near it, he had started his assault on his padded target with a series of punches and kicks. He wasn't sure yet if he intended to actually practice with the long, weighted pole that was meant to serve as a spear - initially he thought it may have been good to practice, since he hardly favored the bulky weapons and could probably use to improve his skill. Now, however, he found himself enjoying the simple action of pummeling the dummy with his fists and feet - it felt good to burn off excess energy, and it felt good to actually hit something. He hadn't been able to practice sparring much after their initial few months of lessons; after which attention had instead been focused on mounted combat - which was, in his opinion, decidedly less entertaining but probably more practical.

He still wasn't entirely sold on the idea of battling koxi - really, if he could get away with never dealing with one of those monsters ever again, he would be ecstatic. But it wasn't a topic he could broach to Teimoph, even without having truly even seen one of the beasts the young red had seen the scars Canph and other adult simourv proudly wore. The young simourv insisted he would out-do them, that he would kill more than any of his seniors, would better defend the Phoenix and His. N'raan's well-earned fear of the creatures only seemed to drive him more in his goal to slay them all. For now, of course, that goal was still a ways off; N'raan still had time to decide just how do go about this unwanted role of 'monster-slayer' that had been thrust upon him.

The dark-skinned boy aimed a particularly fierce kick at the head of the dummy, setting the padded wooden structure a-shudder. He rolled his shoulders as he recoiled, ducking as if the dummy might strike back, and then striking again at it's midsection. It had been a cool morning when he had come out here, but the exercise had quickly caused things to grow a bit too warm - at the moment, the loose tunic he had worn out lay draped upon the wooden fence that he had leaned the spear upon; sweat-damp and drab. Maybe it would grow cool again later, and he would regret not bringing a heavier coat, but for now the sun was high, the sky was clear, and sweat glistened on his ink-marked back.

[Kat]

Ri’ley needed to improve his ability to fight. He knew that he was behind the other winglets in combat skill, and the fact that the winglets were to expected to fight was becoming more and more apparent in the blackrider’s mind. He was beginning to have to confront his own capacity to do harm, and he was going to have to do it. Dionyph was practicing constantly, training himself for the air, and Ri’ley felt obligated to match his simourv’s efforts. A part of Ri’ley hoped that if he proved completely helpless enough with weapons, he would be pardoned from fighting koxi. Ri’ley did have other useful skills, in fact, his abilities as a doctor separated him from the other winglets or riders. But because of Dionyph, Ri’ley knew he could never opt out of the fighting. His black was one of the few in the Eyrie, and so Dionyph was important to the Eyrie as a fighter. Ri’ley could not withhold the black from the fighting. It would be an inexcusable sin to a place which had given him everything. Besides, Dionyph would not stand for it. He believed that it was his eternal duty to protect the Eyrie and his siblings, and Ri’ley knew that his black would fight until he died—until both of them died.

So, Ri’ley knew he needed to learn to fight, because no matter what, Ri’ley would be fighting. And he needed to learn how to do it. Dionyph thought that his rider’s newfound inspiration for combat was much needed, and he encouraged Ri’ley with grandiose vocalizations and pronouncements about Ri’ley becoming the best fighter imaginable and becoming a true knight and performing his absolute duty. The black simourv, exhausted from his own practice, chose not to come with Ri’ley. He would sleep, the rider guessed, and then go to feed himself. Gone were the times when Ri’ley had to feed his charge—Dionyph was large enough and old enough to feed himself. And while, for the most part, Ri’ley disliked the fact that the simourv was not able to spend as much time with him as before, when he was smaller, Ri’ley did not miss the constant feeding sessions which the baby simourv had needed. Dionyph’s independence, in this particular instance, freed the blackrider for other activities, like combat practice.

The large man did not look over the arena which K’huna had set up to practice in, so Ri’ley did not see N’raan there. Instead, Ri’ley went immediately to the chest containing combat weapons, where he began to search through them for the best choice of arms. He finally settled on a large sword, which seemed to suit Ri’ley’s size, at least, if not his ability. The man then gripped the weapon at the hilt, at least somewhat properly, before he moved towards the practice field. Ri’ley spotted N’raan there immediately, and he hesitated at the edge of the area. His brows furrowed together, and he shook his head. He was not sure that he wanted to practice in front of someone else, especially someone he did not trust. Ri’ley was sure he was about to humiliate himself. The black, comfortably curled in their shared room, felt Ri’ley’s hesitation, and he mentally nudged his rider forwards. The simourv did not know the reason, exactly, for his rider’s hesitation, but he knew that he could still provide support.

So, the blackrider sighed, and he slouched towards another, unused dummy. He did not allow his gaze to linger much longer on N’raan’s form, because Ri’ley did not want to draw attention to the fact that he was there. He placed the sword down so that he could strip the jacket he wore off of his body, so that only the rather worn shirt he wore covered his thick chest. Ri’ley picked up the sword again, and then he moved in a few strides to the dummy, which he stood in front of, sword in the ready position, waiting to remember what to do. He really hated this.

[Kilnarak]

Distracted by the feeling of his fists and feet connecting with the training dummy, N'raan was not immediately aware that he had company in the training arena. It wasn't, really, the most practical way to spend his time - it wasn't as if he would ever need to beat off koxi with his fists (nor would he ever want to get close enough to even entertain the option) - but of course he wasn't known for being particularly practical. It would be more useful to train with the spear, but that wasn't nearly so fun, and if N'raan was nothing else, he was a hedonistic creature - he had no patience for things that did not amuse him.

It was only some time later, when he finally stopped smacking around the dummy to take a small break, that he noticed Ri'ley. N'raan had backed away from the training dummy, lowering his fists and flexing his fingers - sore, but that wasn't always a bad thing - and turned away, perhaps meaning to go and get a drink of water. But lo and behold! There, near as far away as he could manage, was a certain giant of a black-rider, squaring off against a leather-clad wooden opponent! Or... well, standing before his wooden opponent, holding a simply massive practice sword and managing to look both awkward and uncertain at the same time.

While N'raan's expression upon turning away from the dummy had been pleased enough, as he watched Ri'ley for a few moments his lips curved into an amused smirk. Well, this might prove entertaining! He kept his distance for a bit, merely watching Ri'ley practicing. It wasn't particularly long before he decided that it could be more entertaining - the giant's tentative strikes at the dummy were a bit lacking at holding his interest, but this was something that could be righted easily enough.

"Gian'," N'raan purred as he strode smoothly and silently across the arena, closing the space between himself and Ri'ley within a matter of moments. He stopped a safe distance away - not so far, but neither so close that he might get smacked in the face by any flailing blows meant for the training dummy. His lips curved into an expression that might have been mistaken for friendly - certainly, he looked amused, at least, and if there was a faint malicious undercurrent to the expression, well...

"D'cided 't was time t' practice, t'?" He drawled, gesturing for Ri'ley to continue then folding his arms over his bared chest and watching with feigned interest. While he could pick apart the taller man's stance and technique, he did not - the blonde boy held his silence, merely watching for some long, heavy moments before finally offering: "Y' know, 't might b' easier, 'gainst livin' partner...?" He kept his tone coached into something that might be considered friendly, if a touch flirtatious - but at least he wasn't invading Ri'ley's personal space this time, even if he was asking for an invitation. He wondered, idly, if Ri'ley would actually accept the request to spar, or if he would need to further prod at the big man to get what he wanted.

[Kat]

Ri’ley had hoped that N’raan would ignore him. Not only was Ri’ley’s ability with the instrument poor enough that he dreaded other people watching it, but he also strongly disliked the red rider. Ri’ley disliked N’raan less than Dionyph hated Teimoph, but the black rider still felt a sort of animosity towards the blonde man. And Dionyph’s intense dislike of his brother made Ri’ley very weary of N’raan, who was connected to Teimoph most intimately, as Ri’ley was connected to Dionyph. But N’raan did approach. At first, Ri’ley felt the other man’s eyes on him, the other man’s gaze, and then Ri’ley felt N’raan’s physical presence hovering just outside the realm that Ri’ley would find unacceptably intrusive. At first, Ri’ley wanted to stop. He thought about it for a brief second, mid-strike, but then the blackrider decided that if he stopped sparring because of N’raan, he would be granting the redrider some sort of victory, and Ri’ley did not want that by any means. So, Ri’ley did not hesitate in his exercising until N’raan actually spoke to him, which felt like a horrible intrusion into Ri’ley’s attempts at self betterment. Ri’ley did not appreciate that N’raan was watching him—that was quite unfortunate, and unpleasant, but the fact that the man addressed him made Ri’ley feel incredibly intruded upon. He was uncomfortable even before the interaction began, because of his inability to fight properly. He was sore about his lacking skills, not outwardly, but in that they created a horrible pit of humiliation within him.

And perhaps Ri’ley would have managed to keep his irritation from his voice, but N’raan’s address of him angered Ri’ley further. It was nasty, for one, and secondly, it hit Ri’ley on a nerve, one which was caused by Ri’ley’s own insecurities about his abnormal size. Lips pursed into a tight, angry line, Ri’ley turned towards N’raan and scowled. He glared at the other man for a long second, before he moved to speak.
”Yes, shrimp?”
Ri’ley retaliated, in a rather uncharacteristic use of damaging language. Ri’ley was not the kind of person to use inflammatory language. He would much rather just say logical, neutral things angrily. Then, N’raan continued to speak, and Ri’ley nodded, still terse.
”I thought I would take advantage of my time off and improve myself.”
Ri’ley explained, and his tone settled into his typical cool, bitter tone in his times of fury. He sometimes yelled, but most of the time, Ri’ley exploded into chilliness, as if his anger created a reaction inside of him which was sharp and coarse, but not necessarily loud.

Trying to show that N’raan completely did not phase Ri’ley, the large man moved to attack the dummy a few more times before he continued the conversation. He thrust the large sword into the dummy—twice, before he turned back towards N’raan. He listened to N’raan’s words, and Ri’ley’s face did not register any change. He shook his head, though, in response.
”I am fine doing this, for now. But thank you for offering your services.”
Ri’ley replied, his tone dripping with the sarcasm that he felt, completely opaque and rather nasty. He should have tried to control his obvious anger, but at this moment, Ri’ley was irritated, and he could not hide it. N’raan was a creep, and he was intruding upon an activity which stressed Ri’ley out already. The mixture of N’raan’s obnoxious behavior and Ri’ley’s previous stress only made the large blackrider outwardly quite unpleasant.

[Kilnarak]

Ri'ley's comeback was awarded with a feral smile, N'raan's lips curling back from his teeth in an expression holding both amusement and a sense of savage ferocity. It was a rather weak retaliation - it struck wide of its mark, the graze only serving to tickle the red-rider's sense of humor. Surely, Ri'ley could think up something better than 'shrimp'? A more fitting jab? Of course he was much slighter than the the giant, but then, so few at the Eyrie came close to matching his stature. And N'raan knew for a fact that he was far from short. Perhaps 'beast' or 'knave' would have been more cutting, although all things considered he might have chosen to take those as compliments. There were, of course, a few things he would have been offended to be called - ah, but Ri'ley did not know him well enough to come up with those; and for all that he intended to get to know the blackrider more... intimately... he would be damned if he'd let the giant know him that well.

"Au, comin' up with pet-names a'ready, gian'? Y' mus' really like m'," N'raan leered a moment more, then laughed softly and let the matter drop - at least for the moment. It was more interesting watching the blackrider move, strike at the target. Over-balanced, and he was putting too much force behind the thrust - N'raan was a bit surprised he didn't stumble. The redrider watched, keeping his silence for the moment, until Ri'ley turned to face him again - apparently the display was meant to show that he could handle himself well enough.

After Ri'ley had spoken, N'raan turned his smile on the blackrider again before offering a reply, "Fine, haa? S'ppose yer doin' fine fer fightin' somethin' tha' ain' ever gonna move. Don' know wha' good that'll do y' in real fight, 'though." N'raan shook his head slightly, raising his eyebrows as he assessed Ri'ley and his wooden opponent. "'course, s'ppose 'f yer gon' hide b'hind tha' Dionyph all th' time, fightin' won' be near s' 'mportan', will 't?" He hummed after he spoke, glancing pointedly away from the blackrider, back toward where he had left his own training equipment. After a moment, he rolled his shoulders and folded his arms behind his head, turning his attention back to Ri'ley - turning a rather pointedly fake smile to the man as well.