Mischief starts with a D

[Libra]

(This takes place sometime before the Weyrling Graduation)



D'rth had everything ready...he just needed a test subject, besides himself. And what better a test subject than a tired, sun-beaten greenrider who had just returned from a trip to the North? The bluerider hung casually by the opening out into the day's wavering heat, watching as H'dar slugged along the sands to seek the shade. Once he got close enough, D'rth smiled and laid one arm over the slightly taller boy's shoulders and led him into the cool passageway.

"Welcome back, H'dar! How is Megra?"

"Aah, thank you D'rth...she's fine, I swung that way when I was heading back. Our mom is taking good care of her."

"Good, glad to hear. Say, care to join me for a drink of fresh fruit juice in the lounge?" Even though it was D'rth asking, it was normal. He asked this many a time to his friend. H'dar smiled gratefully as he was steered into the lounge.

Once the greenrider was settled down, D'rth handed him a mug and poured out the fragrant juice out into it. Just as H'dar was gulping it down, bronzerider J'cen walked in. He plucked the flask from D'rth's hand, tilting his head back as the fruity liquid flowed down into his throat.

D'rth stood there, mouthing words that wouldn't catch a tune. Oh, great....juuuuuust great.

"Shards, that's some good juice, D'rth. Have anymore?" the fair-haired boy asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he eyed the flasks that lay on the counter. "Chronoth can't seem to get enough of finally being able to fly, but it's so sharding hot today."

"No kidding," H'dar said, sinking into his chair as he finished off his drink. D'rth got his head together before he could look remotely suspicious to the two riders.

"Have at it, J'cen," he told the weyrling, expertly covering up his slyness. This would be interesting...the drink was perfectly safe, it wasn't like he was poisoning them, anyways. He just wanted to see how long it would take for it to work.

[Weaving]

“Come now, m’dear, no one in the lounge will bite you. I’m sure that Terrteth wouldn’t let them.” The melodic voice of the harper could be heard echoing into the lounge, followed by the nearly inaudible mutterings of his companion. Not long after, L’rato entered practically dragging in poor Holden, who looked around wide-eyed and fearful as though someone was going to pounce on her at any moment.

“Hello there D’rth, H’dar, J’cen,” L’rato called out cheerfully. “How goes it?” His smile was bright as he tugged Holden further into the room, seemingly oblivious to the way she resisted. However she wasn’t the type to fight back and so allowed the harper to do as he wished. She remembered D’rth from the day of the Hatching, though they hadn’t spoken much since and that had been quite some time ago. J’cen she knew from lessons; he was a fellow bronzerider. H’dar was the only one she didn’t know and so she eyed him warily for some time before deeming him ‘safe’.

“you wouldn’t happen to have enough for myself and Holden here, would you D’rth? The sun out there has me feeling quite famished. Nothing better than a cool glass of fruit juice.” In truth, despite the man’s always cheerful demeanor, he was feeling quite beat. Lessons were grueling on his body and Wyth was more than enough for the man to handle without throwing Kimya into the mix. The firelizard tried to pick a fight with the seagreen dragon constantly, viewing Wyth as a threat to her attention from the harper. He hoped that time would settle the gold down some.

Holden merely stood there, hiding slightly behind L’rato and watching everyone else interact. While she had begun to use her voice again, she still found herself uncomfortable in group settings. If only she hadn’t been outside with Terrteth as the harper walked by. If only she had come up with a plausible excuse as to why she was too busy to join him. Instead, she had simply stood there, nodding dumbly to the harper. It hadn’t help that Terrteth had urged her on. He was always trying to get her to be more social.

“So then, what type of juice did you say this was?” The harper asked, having since taken a flask and two mugs from the table. He had filled them both and handed one to Holden, who was simply staring at the liquid inside as though she didn’t know whether or not to trust it. The harper’s mug had already been emptied and his eyes kept wandering back toward the flasks as though contemplating the thought of getting more.