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Date Posted: 22:45:03 03/01/05 Tue
Author: R'ven, Athena, Vey, Kree
Subject: >~<
In reply to: M'telle 's message, "( ><; )" on 15:27:19 02/25/05 Fri

((Voy is hate. >_< {} is italics; ## is writing, because I was GOING to do that underlined before Voy decided to throw a fit over the HTML.))

A wry twist of R'ven's mouth and an exasperated nod serve as the answer to M'telle's first question, and he tucks Vey carefully under his arm just in case the bronze has any ideas about trying that again. Foiled, the firelizard glares balefully up at his human, but resentment is forgotten as he cranes his long neck to get another look at the charming little hatchling on the tabletop. M'telle's slightly predatory once-over doesn't escape R'ven's notice, and the greenrider takes it as invitation to slide into a seat next to the other man, resting his elbows on the table. Vey wriggles into a more comfortable, though still confined, position between the wooden tabletop and R'ven's armpit, and he and Athena both return Ki's curious greeting, Athena with a touch of aloofness and Vey with noticably more enthusiam. Kree, who has been acting a bit oddly the past few days and has a noticable glow to her forest-green hide, sits up and fidgets agitatedly, completely ignoring the hatchling.

R'ven nods and smiles politely at Harilath in response to the young blue's greeting, making an effort to project the impression of "pleased to make your acquaintance". He doesn't actually attempt to SPEAK to other riders' dragons - that would be unspeakably rude, and offend Massath to boot - but he's always found that an emphasis on friendly thoughts tends to convey what words cannot. Then his attention returns to M'telle, stormy grey eyes fixing on the newly-minted bluerider and the corner of his mouth twitching slightly in supressed amusement at the flood of questions. He ignores the question of his name for a moment in favor of shaking his head at the second question. {Grenith's cluth? Hardly.... Although now that I think of it, I'm only a few Turns too old to be a Candidate, so that's an understandable question.} Silently blessing Yima and S'kar, who had finally, working together, worn down his objections to wasting reams of perfectly good hide on mere socialization, R'ven pulls a large, heavily-scraped scrap of hide and a pen from a bag tied to his belt for exactly that purpose. Despite his misgivings, he's found in the past few sevendays that his sister and his best friend were right about the whole communication issue; he's enjoying being around people much more now that he can talk to them without making them learn his hand-signals first. He has an almost obsessively neat hand, not surprising in someone unable to speak, and he sketches out an answer in small font before pushing it over to M'telle with another apologetic smile. This isn't IDEAL, but it's better than before. #R'ven, rider of green Massath. Impressed at Igen, before the Disasters. My compliments on Harilath and the little one; they're both splendid.# In slightly smaller font, that seems to suggest polite embarassment, he's added, #Sorry you have to read this, I'm afraid the other option is closed to me.# He's never been quite comfortable with having his muteness openly declared as such. Foolish, perhaps, but something he hasn't yet managed to shake.

Kree has been stirring more and more, making occassional little cheeps as she dances about on his shoulder. Fortunately, she's perched on the left shoulder rather than the right, and her movement doesn't disturb her human's pen, but R'ven gives her an oddly resigned look as red creeps into her eyes. Massath had warned him this was coming - as if, after ten Turns of handling a mercurial green, he doesn't know the signs of impending flight. Therefore, he's not at all surprised when she gives a shrill shriek worthy of a dragon, launches herself from R'ven's shoulder with such violence that her talons tear his shirt, and plunges {between}. He simply gives the tear a mournful glance, ignoring the tiny pin-pricks of pain where the tips of her talons pierced his skin, and turns back to M'telle expectantly. Hopefully the other man will be willing to put up with the difficulties inherent in a conversation, because R'ven won't deny that the bluerider is interesting, from the tantalizing glimpses of personality he's so far seen. {Not to mention attractive,} a voice in his head snickers, sounding far too much like S'kar. He ignores it, because hearing S'KAR of all people is rather unnerving and says something dubious about his personal taste.

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