Phoenixing For Idiots [Winged]

[Bre]

Don't want to be an American idiot . . .

Dawn came bright and early that late spring day. Perhaps it was truly early summer, but such seasons tend to run together and were of little consequence. Sure, measuring time can be useful, but it is not for everyone. Ro'za was not eager to get up, but get up she did. She had town councils to poke and elders' egos to unsuccessfully sooth in an effort to not only keep favor with the eyrie but to grow and curry it, so they could have a few new bits of supplies and the cooperation she would continue to need. All of that was about all she knew as she rolled out of bed, feet hitting the cold stone. Even if it was summer in the eyrie, the heat didn't hit until it was well into the day. She pulled on a tan tunic and black breeches, more effort put into the weapons and armor pads that she pulled over it. Her shoulders and waist were adorned with weaponry and leather.

There was one other thing that the Phoenix knew. I'dou had recovered enough from her fall to begin lessons again, though not with the Alphas. The young grayrider, who was barely younger than Ro'za herself in truth, still wore a cast, so she couldn't do the jousting and archery that her peers would soon be learning. The one and only Ro'za would be teaching the future Phoenix instead, a task she had been saving for later in the winglet's career. She didn't think it would hurt to start early, since it was apparently needed. For the time being, her extended lessons would help to fill I'dou's extensive, in Ro'za's mind, free time. When the grayrider begin regular lessons again, the Phoenix lessons would suck up what little remaining free time I'dou had. Perhaps the grayrider would learn to outfox the system, but Ro'za wasn't without guile.

The entire situation around I'dou's injury had left a bad taste in the Phoenix's mouth. It was going to take a long time to wash out. She had many indiscretions for which she wished to seek payment for what had occurred that day. It was unlike her to wait in doling out her justice and abating her anger, but a certain young blackrider had corrected her obvious errors and so she'd taken the slightest of moments to brood and consider. Broody was never a good state for her to occupy. Poor, poor blackrider, his time would come, slowly and painfully. Her lack of concern for the discomfort she knew she was going to be causing others over the next handful of months may have come from her lack of proper morals. She mostly blamed it on experience and some vague protectiveness that made her want to beat all of the winglets until they could take anything at all.

Once she was dressed and ready, Ro'za left her eyling to slip and weave her way down to the canyon bed. Eceph followed her, landing lightly on the ground beside her rider, and they walked together down the wide but quiet and gloomy corridor of rock and grass. Dawn left the eyrie in a state of darkness until the sun rose exactly right or finally broke over the trees and hillocks of the mountains in which they resided. Eventually, they came to a stop, Ro'za halting first with her gray just a step behind her, their responses slightly slowed by sleep. Eceph, call Laraph and I'dou. Tell them to meet us just below the guard heights. They were already at the location, cast in shadow by one of the sweeping pinnacles that held a smoothed stone platform. It was a favorite for the Phoenix and she could see no better location for them to meet.

For a moment, Eceph paused, trying to read her rider's complex way of thinking and feeling. She wasn't sure that Ro'za was in a proper state of being to handle this situation or act as a good teacher, but she did not see a better option. Ro'za knew more than anyone about the art of Phoenixing and was a competent warrior, respected for that at least as far as the gray was aware. Laraph, bring your rider to the lawn below the guard heights; Eceph ordered, voice moderate and perfectly calm. Once the call was out, the gray and rider waited in silence, each of them perfectly at ease in the company of the other. Ro'za did not expect to be waiting long and her hand soon slipped to the hilt of the sword she carried, the weapon a piece of comfort and habit. Her fingers tapped against the leather wrapping of the hilt, showing her impatience.

. . . don't want a nation under the new media.

[winged]

The summons fell on expectant ears, and the response followed swiftly on its heels. I hear. We come. The now massive gray fledgling did in fact rise upon receiving Eceph's orders, dislodging bits of chaff and loose tufts of down as she did. The chick had taken to dining on her couch, choosing to keep the disabled I'dou company rather than associate with her kin. The guilt still griefed her, even now.

I'dou. A gentle whisper of thought trickled into her rider's mind, the gray careful not to provoke a brooding I'dou, as the young woman sat, leg propped on their newly acquisitioned side table, testily staring down the hastily scribbled letter clenched in her hands. "I hear you." The words were gruff, although tempered by the affection bonding both. Laraph needn't have bespoken her at all, the simourv's mind was as carelessly open as ever; the moment Laraph had shifted and risen I'dou had plucked the fragmented bits and pieces of Eceph's message from her partner's mind. Her own thoughts remained zealously guarded, however, as the gray rider stuffed the bit of parchment that troubled her in its respective envelope, hands groping blindly for the makeshift crutches Ri'ley had been courteous enough to loan her.

Maybe I should carry you. A throaty croon softened the blow such words brought, Laraph's intentions readily apparent through the consideration lighting her intense gaze. She didn't want I'dou to hurt like that again, ever. Not while she breathed. Her rider brushed off her simourv's concerns without a single pause to denote her consideration of said option. "I can make it." With the coarse pads wedged tightly in place, I'dou ponderously shifted her weight, gracelessly hobbling onto her own good foot, the cast-encased leg crooked at an awkward angle as she hobbled forward - a blundering act, but a self-sufficient one all the same. The envelope had slid from her lap in the process, drifting to rest beneath one of the chair's legs, forgotten for the moment.

Its contents remained branded, red hot, in I'dou's mind however. She'd received the post a few days prior, and had been letting it collect dust in some woe begotten corner of her dusty room, willing it to lose itself in some messy pile of paperwork, never to be recovered. The post mark had set its origins at Chydyn. Or rather, the tiny swath of land she'd once been tied to. Her mother had written her a letter.

As she hobbled towards their destination, Laraph following closely behind, the tiny immaculate script continued to burn in the woman's mind, betraying the familiar landscape her eyes sightlessly drank in. Bile scalded the back of her throat in remembrance of the scorn veiled so neatly behind those beligerent words. Why hadn't she come home? Did she expect to leave her own mother to die on a failing farm? How thoughtless. How inconsiderate. How very much like her to do such a thing.

Laraph wordlessly adjusted her strides to accomodate the much faster pace I'dou had set, the feathers set in her mottled gray tail standing at point as she fed off of her rider's own aggression and upset. She'd been mulling over that letter ever since she'd received it, re-opening old wounds and stewing in the bad blood between mother and daughter. Worse yet, she didn't curse and spit and throw things as she usually did when she was upset. It was a quiet, disconcerting anger that rolled off of her in antagonistic waves. And it unsettled the chick very much.

Time worn stone gave way at last to moist grass, and I'dou labored all the more to keep up a steady pace, sweat standing in stark relief on her paler face as her arms and good leg trembled with duress. Her gray bustled closer, nearly looming over Hers as she kept a careful, anxious watch on I'dou, distracted only as the great shadow of Eceph cast long fingered shadows across the lawn. Good morning. Formality eased the gray's protective fussing for a moment's time, her rigid posture relaxing just a bit beneath the gaze of her Eyrie's senior Gray. It was easier to relent and accept submission than to carry burdens.

I'dou, too, glanced up at the Senior pair. Silence rang loudly in the absence of words, her face smoothed to a placidity that stopped just short of the docility of stupidity. The anger that seethed just beneath the surface was neatly tucked away, tightly lidded away from the public's eye. This woman, this Ro'za, towered overhead, flanked by the noticeably larger Eceph. Her stance spoke volumes of her attitude - her expected affirmation of their timely arrival. All equally irksome details that built the larger picture of an infuriating individual.

And not a single response.

[Bre]

Welcome to a new kind of tension . . .

When I'dou arrived, Ro'za looked her over. There wasn't much of interest to do with an injured winglet, but she had thought of some things. The broken leg was the biggest inconvenience and the Phoenix showed it no affection as she gazed over her future successor. She shuddered at the thought. She took care of the eyrie and she counted amongst her responsibilities leaving an heir who would do no harm to her people. Despite her testiness, the grayrider did not look too peeved. Her jaw relaxed. Her eyes remained open. Any tenseness was forgotten in order for her to move with her usual deadly grace. She shifted slowly, dropping her hand from the sword at her hip. An injured winglet was no threat to her. Until I'dou learned better, Ro'za could kill her with one foot. Sadly, simply killing the next Phoenix wouldn't solve a single thing. She had to be taught.

Good morning; Eceph returned calmly, falling silent after the greeting. Her gaze was intent, her manner poised, but she stood removed from what was happening, shifting closer to her daughter even though she wasn't speaking to the young gray. She and her rider were no more a matching pair than Laraph and I'dou. They did not reflect the same morals or styles. They argued on occasion. However, such moments were not noticed, because they did it quietly and concisely. They were grown up, even if Ro'za seemed untempered by her scant years. They moved as one being, one entity. When required, they were the Phoenix, the passion and the fury personified. It wasn't very apparent right then, but the lines and connections existed. Mainly, in that moment, her knowledge of her rider and the militant's woman's sense kept her from interfering.

When Ro'za finally spoke, it was frank. She got straight to the point she wanted to make. Her lessons would not truly take a great deal of time, but it was readily apparent that she had demands. "You are going to be the next Phoenix. The first one to be supposedly chosen in front of the public eye. I highly doubt that makes much of a different. Laraph decided you are the best of the lot and you have to live up to that. You can be an idiot if you wish, but you have to be an idiot that fixes any possible mistakes before they happen. You will be hurt and injured enough without chopping off your hand in an accident. You're lucky. You have me. A great gift, I know. If you are stupid, you will die. The same goes for everyone in your class, but in your case, if you die, a couple of them probably will too. Done with her rousing speech, Ro'za briefly fell silent.

In truth, Ro'za had no desire to allow I'dou to speak. "Now, I want twenty push-ups. You shouldn't need your leg for that. Just tuck it over your other one." The order was sharp, leaving no room for question. Along with that, the Phoenix dropped to her own knees on the hard ground and positioned herself to start her own set of push-ups, ankles crossed, poised easily on one foot with her hands supporting her body. Her neck craned back so she could look over I'dou expectantly. She wasn't going to make the winglet do anything she herself couldn't do. A cast was no excuse for laziness, not with the broken bones and pulled tendons she'd suffered over the last few years. Scars lined the hands that lay flat on the ground, supporting her lean, wiry body. She had no trouble sitting there until I'dou was ready and she was surprisingly patient for her.

. . . all across the alien nation.

[winged]

Taking heart in the solid strength Eceph's presence provided, Laraph too settled on undesignated sidelines, posturing herself in direct mimicry of the much larger, dominant queen. The apple, or the nut in this case, never fell far from the tree. Physically settled and emotionally stabalized, she could yet not help the twist of her stomach as she looked upon Hers, concerns muddying her otherwise clear gaze.

For her own part, I'dou showed no outward signs of distress as Ro'za began her condescending speech. The Phoenix's forward insults were quietly absorbed, the winglet's eyes fastened on some vague point along the other woman's collarbone. Truthfully, I'dou had purposefully zoned out on some insignificant thought, busying her mind with inconsequential details whilst outwardly her features flickered to provide minimal interaction with what the other gray rider constituted as corrective teaching. The steady cadence, the rise and fall of Ro'za's voice guided her along in that respect. Any pauses were dutifully acknowledged with a faint arrowing of her eyebrows, or some other twitch that pertained to the general mood of the situation. You should pay more attention. Laraph's reproach came unexpectedly, and a genuine little jolt of surprise along with it, before she flung up another barrier for the Gray to surpass, leaving a baffled Laraph to huff exasperatedly over the matter, before allowing it to subside.

By the end of it, I'dou could only gamble on what it was exactly that she'd been told. Of course there were the required bits of humiliation and self-posturing that the winglet could deduce formed much of the Phoenix's everyday conversational box. It wasn't hard to make assumptions, and certainly the gist of what she so pleasantly tuned out had come across loud and clear, sans the irritation of actual interaction.

As such, in a curiously good mood considering the circumstances, I'dou watched as Ro'za dropped into a ready crouch, apparently primed for exercises. This too, was not necessarily surprising - Ro'za was a very physical person, and a much better communicator, it seemed, through her physical prowess. Which was quite painful, hearing it from her usual victims. Still, her bemused face clearly held some hesitation as the winglet considered her options. She could very well refuse, but then she'd have to suffer through this meeting for a much longer period of time - and her armpits were beginning to ache terribly, her skin chafed unpleasantly against the crutch's armpads.

Wordlessly, she took both crutches firmly in one hand, balancing unsteadily on her good leg as she did, before tossing them a safe distance to her right - within reach, yet, but not intruding upon her space. Frowning at the clumsiness there was no way around, she dropped inelegantly on her behind before re-positioning herself into a mirror of Ro'za's sturdier positioning, her bum leg tucked precariously over her already straining good one. Just keeping herself propped up had a fresh sweat beading up, and her breathing was steady but shallow.

Twenty push-ups. With her goal set firmly in mind, the young woman began her ungainly set. One...two... They were an awful mockery of a true push-up, but she forced herself to fully extend with every one, her breathing growing a little less steady, and a great deal more shallow. Three...

At some point, I'dou glanced over as if to check and make certain that Ro'za was doing the same. Certainly, she was capable of doing them much faster than she, who'd been inactive while her leg had begun mending. Frustrating, and an unpleasant prickle in her side, but I'dou wouldn't give way. She would damn well prove she was better than anyone's expectations.

[Bre]

Where everything isn't meant to be okay . . .

Ro'za did them all as I'dou did them and hers were not a mockery of the proper thing. While not a bodybuilder, the Phoenix was wiry and push-up showed where the corded muscle lay in her arms. Her elbows belt to right angles each time she went down and it didn't appear to be any strain for her. Ten came easily. Twenty passed through her mind as only a mildly interesting occurrence. It was oddly taxing to do them so slowly, but she supposed it was good for her. She loved to do everything with speed, so I'dou was the perfect compliment, entirely handicapped and mostly useless. Her wry thoughts did not amuse Eceph, who remained seated to the side with Laraph. They were an audience, one Ro'za mostly ignored. She focused on getting I'dou through the push-ups. It was a silent ordeal. She just wanted to see the young grayrider do it.

When the task was complete, falterings and whatever aside, the Phoenix hopped to her feet. She didn't wait for I'dou to get up in whatever cumbersome fashion she doubtlessly would. Instead, she was productive. She ambled over to where Eceph waited and wiggled up onto the gray's back as the queenly simourv sat perfectly still. When she hopped down from the griffin's high shoulders, she carried a set of lumpy cloth bands with bits of leather on the ends. She straightened them and talked, not looking at I'dou. She appeared to have some extreme doubts about the importance of the winglet. "These are ankle weights. You're going to do reps with them while I lecture. It won't be fun, but that's kind of the point of this;" she said. Once she had the weights sorted out, she tossed two at I'dou. Then she strapped the other two to her own ankles.

. . . television dreams of tomorrow.

[winged]

I'dou's slipshod performance began motoring in a decidedly downhill fashion at some point past mid-way. Under normal circumstances the gray winglet would have gotten it done - not necessarily as prettily as one might like, but in a timely manner and with considerable efficiency. Muscles that had already felt considerable strain with the clumsy crutches were now screaming in red hot agony, the tendons that lashed them together felt more like string pulled to its limits, ready to snap. Sweat poured down her neck, soaking her shirt so that it clung and irritated her skin to add further distraction to the disaster.

Her schooled gasps sounded more like choked weezing by the time her twentieth push-up reached its end. The urge to drop her weight solidly to the earth, thus relieving her throbbing arms of their burden was nearly undeniable. Only the woman's convoluted sense of self-esteem prevented her from fulfilling that most desirable face plant. She wasn't going to degrade herself any further than necessary, any more than she was going to show Ro'za a lick of the turmoil that churned inside of her. She did relent and lower herself into an awkward sort of lounge, her bum leg stretched out and numbed fingers massaging her equally numb calf. At some point the blood flow to her leg had been cut off, and feeling was only now beginning to register - in the unpleasant tingle and prick of pins and needles.

Watching the Phoenix warily, the other woman's back turned so as not to glimpse the display, I'dou had to clamp down aggressively on her tongue, hard enough to draw blood, to restrain herself from cussing the senior gray rider out once she saw what dangled from her hands. Weights. The unexpected surge of duress made Laraph squirm uncomfortably where she sat, otherwise regal. Though perhaps not as sensitive as her rider's, her own tongue ached in commiseration for I'dou's self-inflicted wound. This was very uncomfortable, she could feel her rider's exhaustion in her own bones, knew what else was coming and couldn't do a thing. Queens weren't meant to feel this helpless, but she dared not speak a word to Eceph. Instead she wiggled in the most ridiculous way, her stubby wings fanning themselves out in distress.

I'dou didn't have to pretend to ignore Ro'za's words this time, as the entirety of her scattered attention span rested solely on the god forsaken bits of leather that spelled her misery. The winglet's face had frozen amidst astonishment and shock, and it took several failing tries for her fingers to successfully grab the things where they'd fallen unaided to the ground. Her eyes held a faraway cast as she slowly, laboriously bent to lash the first to her lame leg, a particularly gruesome smile taking up residence when the astonishment slowly melted away. Well, damned if she wasn't going to pretend to enjoy every last second of it! All the while construing oh so very many creative ways for Ro'za to take her damned weights and shove them up her ass.

There. The first one secured, and already she could feel the drag the added weight would provide. Her smile brightened a few notches, producing a very fine homicidal flair, as she began tying on the second, quicker this time as muscle memory helped where dexterity failed. So far, she'd concocted three different methods, already well on her way to a fourth. All very gruesome, and most ending in the Phoenix's demise by inferno. Laraph was absolutely mortified.