Fast friends (Sorel is Searched)

Western Weyr - Freshwater Pool's Edge
A freshwater pool wells up from underground springs and provides the Weyr with its water supply. A low stone wall rings the water's edge and an odd looking device sits off to one side, a safe distance from the water, with pipes running over into the water and other pipes vanishing into the cliff walls. The solar powered device pumps water to various part of the Weyr.

R'bel has arrived.

Sorel is avoiding the sea today, but unfortunately due to his character her can't avoid water, so the freshwater pool's edge is about as close as one can get to ocean without you know, being on the beach. It's both water, same thing right? But the seacrafter is currently whittling on a small piece of wood, carving what looks to be like a little mini sail boat of sorts. Oh, it's afternoon sometime, by the by.

And R'bel? He's just looking for some place to get away from the hustle and bustle of having four five-turn-olds and one weyrmate that may as well be the sixth child in his life. He can't seem to escape the questions, or the… well… we won't get into that. But R'bel was lucky enough to stand and impress one exuberant green, and thus? Every now and again, R'bel manages to sneak his way out when everybody is down for a nap or distracted by their mayhem. Now is probably one of those days when Rhab was there one minute, and gone when Ir'e turned around again. The greenrider's here because here is familiar; the stranger invading his space, however, is not. R'bel pauses, unsure of how to proceed, leaning towards the 'flight' response, when there's a brush at his mind full of loving warmth and too cheery a voice encouraging him to be, « Popular! » When her rider still hesitates, she's reaching out to the stranger's mind, and intruding without much forewarning. « We would like to say a hi-dee-hallo-hallo to you, my scrumdittiliumptious bubbliewubbly! What's that you're craftinating? Might my R'bel get close enough to be my eyes? » Erk. Flight sounds /fantastic/, but instead the rider clears his throat and manages a monotone, "I'm sorry. She's always like that. I didn't mean to intrude." But notice he isn't making to leave.

Sorel nearly takes off his thumb when the green invades his mind with strange words and sounds. It's the first time he's had a dragon speak to him, since he doesn't make a point to try to converse with them, who knows, he might have had the experience before now if he had been more friendly. But as it is he just skims a few layers of skin off, which doesn't go deep enough to draw blood. Gray eyes flutter though as he tries to figure out what just happened until he's looking at R'bel and he's taking in his words, slowly. "Huh? Oh. That was yours? She sure.. has a way with words." He says awkwardly, not wanting to insult the rider's lifemate. His boat is eyed with a critical eye, thankfully it was his thumb that suffered damage and not that, right?

"Yes, she does," R'bel says softly, though it's the only part of his tone that changes. The young man looks bored, as if he'd rather be anywhere than here, and he /sounds/ the part to boot. Those green eyes take in the skinned thumb (despite a lack of blood), and without showing even an iota of concern on his features, he says, "It's crafting, Espeth. Craftinating is not a word." Always correcting the lovely lady and her language he is, but to no avail. Espeth continues right down the path she enjoys the most: slaughtering the Pernese language in /style/. R'bel steps just a bit closer, and reaches out his hand then in a motion that might suggest he'd like Sorel to put his injured appendage in his grasp. He does not push, however, nor does he ask. The greenrider simply stares at Sorel's hand expectantly. "You're hurt," he says then, without so much as a change in tone.

Sorel is rather amused that this rider looks so utterly put off that he's here in the company of Sorel. It's kind of how Sorel feels, only perhaps he's better at hiding the fact that he'd rather R'bel not be there, crowding his space. There are so very few people in his life that don't cause him to want to run the other way, and strange greenriders definitely aren't on that list. "Could be worse I guess, she could run around licking people." He murmurs with a roll of his shoulders before he goes back to carving out some of the fine details on his toy boat. It's only once R'bel is talking again and holding out his hand as if Sorel would put his own in the rider's that Sorel is looking quite queerly at the greenrider. Uh.. no thanks. His look clearly states. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

« Who would do that? » Espeth tuts, invading again. « That's sooooooo unrefined! » R'bel doesn't even react to the excessive femininity of his counterpart. He simply remains, hand outstretched, eyes fixed on Sorel's injured finger. After a long moment (and a blatant rejection), the greenrider blinks owlishly slow up at Sorel and shows the first change in his demeanor. The look suggests that, just maybe, Sorel is borderline stupid. "I'm not worried about your injury," he says then, without any change in inflection. "Hand." He moves his own up and down just a little, as if to say, 'Do this with it', or, 'Place it here', but he never gives any real clear direction. It's not so much that Rhab is put off by Sorel being in this usually unoccupied space, persay. It's more that Rhab is put off with the existence of… well… everybody.

OH, he wanted to /shake/. Sorel blinks a few more times at R'bel and /still/ makes no attempt to shake the hand. So rude. Instead, all the seacrafter does is offer his name, "Sorel." He doesn't even add 'well met' or anything polite like that to it. That's all R'bel will get in regards to a 'hello'. "And it was a green from Xanadu, who was obsessed with trying to lick me. Was rather disgusting honestly, but I'm not really allowed to you know.. judge." He starts off speaking slowly, unsure how one speaks to a dragon. She must be able to 'hear' through her rider, right? It's not as if Sorel really knows how it works!

It's a good thing that Sorel didn't shake. R'bel would have just looked at him like he was stupid /and/ sprouting a second head; it wouldn't have been very pretty for either party involved. When the crafter gives his name, R'bel doesn't bother returning the polite (is that polite?) introduction, but instead says, "I didn't ask." And notice, he doesn't exchange. The greenrider never even drops his hand, nor do his eyes move away from that injured finger to Sorel's face in acknowledgement. The young man simply waits for whatever it is he's expecting Sorel to do to be done. "Hand," he says again, though this time it's followed by a very softly spoken, "Idiot." Rhab seems to care not at all for the story of licking greens at Xanadu, but Espeth seems to perk right up at the conversation. « Oh, well, that is just posa-tiva-ly-lutely uncouth. … Did you lick her back? » There is /one/ part that R'bel will comment on, however, and it's the last part. "Not allowed to judge?" A long pause, and then… "You really are an idiot…" AND RHAB IS A PATIENTLY WAITING IDIOT. So they're even.

Sorel stares pointedly at R'bel, "Well, it's not polite to tell a rider how strange their dragon is." HINT HINT. NUDGE NUDGE. He narrows his gaze at the greenrider, trying to decide if he is in fact the idiot here. Come on, Sorel's trying to be nice here! As for the hand thing, well, with a sigh he flips his knife around, shoves it into the sheath riding on his belt and then finally holds his hand out, not really sure what to expect at this point. The dragon apparently suits the rider, he's just as strange as she is! "Did.. I lick her back? Shards no, I had no idea where she'd been, who knows what she would have tasted like." He replies to the green, pretty much ignoring the fact that he's getting called an idiot.

"Why?" R'bel asks, and there would be genuine shock in his voice if not for the fact that the man seems incapable of showing any emotion at all. "She /is/ strange." R'bel says it without so much as a flicker of amusement, and it's a very clear indication that yes, he does get all the verbal HINT HINT NUDGE NUDGEs Sorel throws his way. The man isn't /stupid/. Once Sorel extends his hand, the greenrider grabs it between surprisingly gentle fingers and, contrary to his previous words, the first thing he does is take a good look at that boo-boo. Satisfied, there's a very soft, "That's not too bad," and then he's pushing something into the palm of Sorel's hand. It's not the most formal way to do it, or even the most polite, but there it is anyway: a white knot. "I don't really care what you do with it," he explains, letting go of Sorel without waiting to see whether or not he'll keep hold of the offering. "Espeth thinks she sees something in you, and wanted me to give you the opportunity to stand." « And oh, if you do, it will be my veryveryvery first offer and my veryveryvery firstester yes! Oh, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease! » How can you say no to that?

"Well at least you realize that." Sorel replies blandly and gives another shrug to the greenrider when it's clear he's not going to offend the man. He's done enough offending in the past several sevendays hasn't he? He squints an eye at R'bel though at his soft words before there's something new in his hand and he's eyeing it with.. irritation? Annoyance? Hatred? One of those feelings perhaps. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." He hisses under his breath but doesn't do anything rude like you know, toss it back at young man not much older than he. He does look about to dump the knot onto the ground and perhaps grind it under the heel of a boot however before that infectious green and her excitement makes it rather difficult to crush her hopes and dreams just like that. Exactly, how can he say no to that? He can't really, even though it looks as if someone shoved something sour under his nose. "Fine. Sure. Why the hell not." Is finally said. He can always give it back, right? Such a pleasant candidate he makes.

… It's really probably not at all polite, but Sorel's blatant disgust at being offered what one would usually think is an honor strikes a cord within R'bel. The greenrider watches for a moment in silence, without so much as an indication that he's registering Sorel's fit when… suddenly… the man is laughing. And it's rich, and husky, and travels all the way up to his eyes with pure joy. It's very clear that, despite Rhab's rough exterior, the man has something very genuine lurking underneath the surface; perhaps he just feels too much, and so he makes every effort to feel nothing at all. "I like you already," he says around a smile, and it's almost shy, those words. There's a hint of red on his cheeks (the kind one gets from laughing, not quite a blush), and then he's blinking once, twice, and every emotion is drained back away into nothingness. "I'll show you to the dorm." « We insist! » Yes. It /is/ Espeth's idea! Blame the dragon!

Sorel gives Rhab that look again, that one where, surely there has to be two heads between his shoulders, or at least a third eye or something. Gray eyes blink a few times before a solitary sable brow is finally lifted up in confusion. "Like and 'you' typically aren't things that come out of other people's mouths in regards to me. It's more like 'Asshole' and 'you' that are tied together." Because it is true. People like to sass Sorel and then Sorel gets all pissy and puffs and does stupid things, like, stab bronzeriders. He motions the greenrider back towards the weyr. "Lead the way." He'll follow all useless like, but it isn't as if he doesn't know where the barracks are already.

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