Characters F'inn, K'zre
Synopsis K'zre has a confession. A CRIMINAL confession. About candy. (disclaims: mildly suggestive bits)
Out-of-Character Date February 21, 2020

Igen Weyr - Temorary Accomodations
It's a smaller weyr high on Igen's bowl wall, and has been converted into temporary accommodations for F'inn and K'zre while Nymionth is on the sands with Raaneth. It's cozy, and quaint, and //definitely not home// but, they do what they can to stay comfy.

Summer - Month 7 of Turn 2724

Doom. So much doom. K'zre isn't even sure how to handle all the doom that he is certain is coming his way. Washed and changed, he's an odd mix of Igen-and-Fort with his ensemble; loose, billowing pants and a cable-knit sweater. Or rather, it's a mix of Igen-And-F'inn, as it is his weyrmate's sweater he's wearing. Old and worn and beloved, he's pulled it on despite the Igen summer because emotional comfort trumps physical comfort. Yet another object he's stolen in what is becoming a crime spree. At least he's pretty sure F'inn would have consented to having his sweater stolen. Out on the ledge, Yasminath is equally distraught and far more prone to show it, whining woefully into the world and looking miserable because they're totally criminals now and might have to flee the country and go into hiding! (Someone's lifemate has been reading her way too many books).

F'inn has no idea what to expect from what Nymionth is telling him. He's confused, but then so is the massive bronze as they land on the ledge. And while normally Nymionth is very good about giving F'inn time to dismount? This time, F'inn is barely on the ground before the bronze is wrapping himself around the tiny green and showering her with roses while trying to assure her that they are not going to have to flee the country. And F'inn, while he stumbles, it is not enough to keep him from charging into the weyr and immediately going for K'zre. The concern in his eyes? Readily apparent as he does his level best to wrap his arms around the greenrider while simultaneously checking him for any sign of injury. "What happened? Are you alright? Did someone lay hands on you?"

Yasminath doesn't quite wail, but it's close. A plaintive and somewhat unnecessary whine of distress that is not earned but felt just the same. She snuggles into Nymionth, offering disconcerted and disorganized words that all seem to revolve around the same fact; They have done something bad and are now bad people. Which might be rather confusing, given the predominate image is a bag of candy. And K'zre? He is not quite so distressed as to cry or wail or weep, but he's definitely not looking his best. There are no tears. But there's a guilty look in the dark eyes that can't quite meet his weyrmate's. He winds his own arms around F'inn in return, consenting to being searched if just because it will get him closer to where he wants to be. "I'm sorry," comes in a rush, fingers curling into the bronzerider's clothes as K'zre tries to wiggle in and press his face to his chest. "I didn't mean to do it! I didn't! He was just there and it was too much and I couldn't stop and…" And that might be a rather alarming statement until K'zre offers a shuddering little sigh and confesses, "I stole a bag of candy."

The longer it goes on, the more worried that both Nymionth and F'inn become. Until, at least, the reason for the bag of candy becomes apparent. Nymionth meets it with a snort and a very undraconic chortle, winding himself more tightly around Yasminath and reassuring her that they are not bad people and that everything will be fine. For his part, F'inn is visibly taken aback, dancing on the edge of being ready to murder whoever upset his weyrmate, before the situation becomes more clear. "….Candy?" To his credit, he does not outright laugh— although by Faranth he wants to. Instead, he clears his throat, taking a moment to let it all sink in before he's drawing K'zre toward the couch. "It's fine," he breaths. "I can go pay the merchant and everything will be fine." He's not at all worried about an 'International incident' over a bag of candy.

Yasminath is pretty sure they're still very bad people. GOOD people do not steal things! But she is willing to let Nymionth soothe her, and won't even be offended that he found it amusing. K'zre however… had he noticed the look on his weyrmate's face — had he been aware of what lay beneath the surface and what laughter might have almost bubbled out — would have been mortally wounded in return. This is a very serious incident of which he is mortified over. Not enough that he didn't eat a few handfuls of that candy, mind. But still. MORTIFIED. "I didn't steal it from a merchant," he explains, curling into F'inn's side the moment they're seated. "I… it was a bronzerider. From Xanadu. I don't remember his name or I swear I'd have given it back." Maybe. A little peek, and he reaches out with the toe of one bare foot to nudge that the rather large leather backpack to indicate the 'sack' that he's speaking of. "I didn't mean to," he adds hastily, repeating his earlier words with equal fervor. "But he just… and I just… and then I was leaving and I didn't think." Which is, perhaps, the scariest part of all. "It's never been that bad."

F'inn exhales a quiet breath as he listens, his hands rubbing briskly down the length of K'zre's arms. "It's going to be fine," he promises quietly. "I'll find out who it belongs to and make sure they understand you were proddy at the time." It's another dragonrider, he is certain they'll understand. And if not? Well, he'll handle that, to. It's the mention of it not having been this bad before that has him pulling his weyrmate into his lap. "We've been under a lot of stress," he points out. "And I'm willing to bet you've been trying to resist eating candy when you're craving it?" Glancing down, he reaches for the leather satchel, tugging it into his lap without a second thought. On the ledge, Nymionth calmly points out to Yasminath that Toith has a habit of 'collecting other people's things' when she is proddy and that that certainly does not make her a criminal, nor have they had to feel Igen in the dead of night over it.

"It's not an excuse," argues K'zre. "Being proddy isn't an excuse for… for…" For stealing bags of candy from bronzeriders who definitely deserved it even if Kez wasn't aware of just what F'yr was doing with all that teasing. The greenrider swallows once, curling in against F'inn's chest the moment he's pulled into his lap, face turned to bury into his weyrmate's throat. "Maybe," he admits, the words a faint whisper in return for trying to fight that craving. "But I should be better than this. It's just… sugar." Stupid sugar. The acquisition of the bag has K'zre bolting upright in his weyrmate's lap, dark eyes darting to pale blue with a look of horror. "We can't eat it!" Even if he already did. "It's not mine! It's not ours! It's…" Stolen. But also, so very, very conveniently here. While on the ledge, Yasminath considers this very important information, weighing it against what she knows of right and wrong and Toith and family. It's hard to reconcile how this might be different from that (and there are a fair few people who would absolutely consider the little glowing green a criminal). But in the end, Yas decides that maybe she is not so terrible since she (and not even her, but K'zre) took only one thing, while Toith has taken countless things, and is still allowed in Igen.

F'inn exhales a snort at the suggestion that they can't eat it. "Of course we can eat it. They can get new candy." Reaching into the bag, he tugs out a piece of candy and presses it into K'zre's hands. "Eat the sugar. No more trying to resist it, K'zre. As for the bronzerider? I'll find out who he is and make sure that it is replaced. Right now, you really need to calm down and convince Yasminath that we are not going to have to go on the lamb over gummy snakes." Smoothing a hand over the bag, he checks it for marks of ownership, his lips twitching in a bemused smile as he shakes his head. "It's going to be fine," he promises.

K'zre does not want to eat the sugar. For oh, so many reasons. It's stolen, for one. And it's just… irritating to cave to a craving, for another. But there's little resistance in him when F'inn pushes that piece into his hand. A sigh, and he pops it into his mouth, a shiver tracing down his spine at the sudden sweetness on his tongue. Worse than a drug; that damned sugar craving. But at least, between Nymionth's stellar argument about Toith, and K'zre's calming down (courtesy of F'inn and candy), Yasminath is settling as well. She's still pretty sure she's a criminal (but maybe it's more exciting now that she knows there aren't actual consequences) but no longer upset about it. "I hate this," repeats K'zre, this time with a bit of rock candy pressed into his cheek. "I hate it. I'm sorry. I just…" A sigh, and he tucks himself back in against F'inn, nuzzling at his throat and breathing in the scent of him while the sugared treat dissolves on his tongue. "I should be used to it by now."

"You are used to it," F'inn insists. "The only reason it is so much worse this time is all the emotional stress we've been under." Tilting his head, he cups K'zre's cheek in his hand and smiles as he brushes a tender kiss over his lips. "I'm finding out who the bag belongs to and will make sure it is in the right hands." Or rather, Nymionth is, but six of one, half dozen of another. "This will all be over very soon," he promises. "And we'll be back in Fort curled up on our fur eating veggies."

[DTU/Project] Leirith senses that Nymionth reaches out in a wash of roses, a hint of laughter coloring his tones. «Pardon me, but would you mind finding out which of your bronzeriders has has a bag of candy go missing in Igen recently? I would appreciate it. »

There is no argument that K'zre can make. And so he makes none at all. He simply slumps against F'inn's chest, drained and distraught, guilty over something he can't really control. The candy is consumed without further question; one slow piece after another slow piece. Sugar, melting in his mouth and soothing that not-so-subtle longing for more. But whether it makes sense or not, K'zre is unwilling to let himself off the hook. "I should take it back," he says after too-long a pause. "I should apologize." It's what K'zre thinks he needs to say. The right thing to say, and do. But he doesn't really want to do it. And he doesn't really want to say it. Not yet, at least. Maybe. Someday. Eventually. "You didn't have to do that. It… This is my fault." Furs and fire and Fort and vegetables all seem so very distant in this moment, and K'zre can only curl his fingers into F'inn's shirt, press himself all the tighter and trust that it will be over soon, as promised.

[DTU/Project] Nymionth senses that Leirith is electric thought, a house party that seeps in and grows louder and louder and louder until every creak and crevice and thought is permeated with her sound, sending minds and projections shivering with a willful kind of exuberance. « WE HAVE MANY OF THOSE. » Bronzeriders, she means, if the flickering of too many faces, too many brindled and shadowed and metallic-burnt hides turned like the pages of a catalog are not answer enough. She settles on one, though: F'yr. The image comes apart on another boom of bass and sound, underscored by the heavy sent of spun sugar as Leirith's mind pulses to another beat. « IF YOU HAVE MORE SPECIFICS, WE WOULD BE HAPPY TO NARROW DOWN THOSE WHO MIGHT BE IN A CANDY-BAG DEFECIT. » And then come collect the candy for eating THEMSELVES. Oops, did she let that thought slip? It's fine. She pulls it back with another thunderous thrum of WUBWUBWUB laughter.

"You are doing no such thing," F'inn soothes. Holding his weyrmate against his chest, he smooths a hand over his back, strong fingers gently kneading at tense muscle. "It was candy, K'zre. Nothing more then that. I'll handle it." For right now, he's content to let Nym ferret out the owner of the sack of candy and make arrangements to rectify the matter. He does, however, make a point to pop one piece of the candy into his own mouth, tucking the too sweet mass into his cheek with a stubborn thrust of his tongue. "Are you feeling a little bit better," he asks as he reaches up to comb his fingers through dark hair.

[DTU/Project] Leirith senses that Nymionth is having a very hard time taking this as seriously as his little green mate thinks it is and it shows in the whisper of mellow laughter coloring his thoughts. « It would be whichever one was in Igen with the past day or so. » Unfortunately, he did not really see F'yr, but he would most assuredly recognize his lifemate. « There was an incident with the bag of sugar and my mate's rider. The bag of candy ran off with him accidentally. » Accidentally on purpose, but still. « My rider would like to return the bag and the lost candy.. It will need to be different candy, of course » The candy in question having been consummed by a very proddy greenrider. « Preferably to the bronzerider in question. Although, he would be happy to provide additional candy necessary to satisfy your sweettooth, as well.»

Slow breaths. But even so, K'zre isn't exactly calm. Curled up against F'inn with his fingers in his hair. His eyes might close and his breathing deepen, but he's not really relaxed yet. "You shouldn't have to handle it," he sighs, the words a whisper; remorseful and apologetic. But K'zre cannot think of a worthy reason other than because. Because he obviously cannot be trusted. Because despite having turns with Yasminath and being proddy and knowing what it does to him… He still behaved so badly. So instead, he sucks on the candy in his mouth, considers the question asked of him, and ultimately decides, "Maybe." A sigh, and he presses his cheek to F'inn's chest, arching just a little into the fingers in his hair. "The… craving is better," he admits. As for the rest of him? It may take a little longer before K'zre lets go of the guilt.

[DTU/Project] Nymionth senses that Leirith is taking this VERY SERIOUSLY. NOTHING HAS EVER BEEN MORE SERIOUS THAN THIS GREVIOUS THEFT — wait, she means — MAJESTIC BADASSERY OF CANDY-BAGS THROWING RUNNING AWAY FROM THEIR OWNERS. There's a stillness, a long, quiet pause as if Leirith's mind has momentarily placed Nymionth on hold to consult with another or ANSWER A DIFFERENT DRAGGO-LINE and then… BOOM! Leirith's laughter comes back, robust and ecstatic, an unending source of joyous amusement that rings and clangs and seems to take root everywhere without ever really taking root at all. « WHAT A CLEVER BAG OF CANDY. ONE MIGHT EVEN SAY BADASS. » Because Leirith might not be the smartest dragon to grace Pern, but even she knows BAGS and CANDY don't have sentience. COME NOW. « WE HAVE FOUND THE ONE WHOSE CANDY IS LACKING, AND WE PROPOSE — IT'S A WONDERFUL IDEA, RISALI, MIND YOUR OWN THOUGHTS AHAHAHA — THAT YOU SHOULD SET UP SOME KIND OF QUEST THAT HE MIGHT VANQUISH THE OFFENDER OF HIS CANDY. WELL. VANQUISH IS A STRONG WORD, BUT THERE IS NO BETTER WAY TO PROVE YOUR BADASSERY THAN TO COMPLETE A TRIAL OF THE CANDY. » Wait for it… WAIT FOR IT. WUBWUBWUBWUB. « MY MINION ALSO WOULD BE EVER GREATFUL FOR WHATEVER CANDY CAN BE SPARED, IF ANY CANDY IS LEFT AFTER BEING IN THE PRESCENCE OF SUCH… » Don't do it, Leirith. DON'T DO IT — « GLORI. AHAHAHAHAHA. » She did it. Still, she weaves together a collective picture of F'yr and Glorioth together, with the impression that, perhaps, the queen is sending them on the scent of candy in Igen — and, perhaps, the green and bronze duo might prepare for the incoming lack of… mercy. Or, you know, the stunning encouragement. Whichever better suits.

F'inn damned well refuses to allow K'zre to wallow in guilt over candy, that's just silly. "Good," is murmured in response to the craving lessening. Pressing a kiss to K'zre's brow, he shifts until they are both stretched out on the couch, his arms loosely wrapped around his weyrmate's waist. "Besides, you need to focus on making sure I'm eating right, eh? Bringing food out to the sands? Keeping me company?" He will make sure there is ample sugar there to provide a suitable lure for his lightfingered mate. ;D "I'm in for the night though," he decides as he wraps his legs around K'zre's to trap him against his body.

[DTU/Project] Leirith senses that Nymionth takes it all in with the calm for which he is famous. Or. Well. Known for in Fort, at least. « I will make certain mine is aware of the impending visit and that there is an appropriate measure of candy included both to do justice to quest and, of course, your bombastic personage.» He /might/ be being a little sassy. Just a little. Teensy bit. « Rest assured there will be an ogre or two to bravely battle.» Or scarecrows, as the case may be. No rivers, though, that would be going to far.

Candy is but a symptom of the problem beneath; that of control or lacking it, and K'zre's sense of self when it comes to Proddy. But he won't argue. He won't try to explain, because maybe he can't. He'll just accept it, swallowing the rest of the candy and let himself be pulled down to stretch along the couch. It's the shift in topic, the necessity of focusing on F'inn, that has him flicking a glance up in mild surprise. "Is that a concern?" he wonders, fingers tightening on his weyrmate's shirt before releasing so he can slide his hands around him instead; to hold on with his arms as F'inn wraps him in his legs. "Have you not been eating?" Honestly, the accusation is entirely unwarranted and somewhat hypocritical given K'zre's penchant for abstaining from food when upset. A heartier sigh comes for the last, and he leans in to nuzzle at the underside of his weyrmate's chin, teeth grazing over stubble as he nips him gently. "I'll do better," he promises. "I'll stay focused." On him. And not the candy. Maybe.

[DTU/Project] Nymionth senses that Leirith is the antithesis to his calm, an unending edge of chaotic energy that manifests as humor and really, really bad ideas. It'd be more apt to say that Leirith is infamous for all her lacking. If she senses the sass, it does not bother her; if anything, Leirith's humor only seems to find root in it, to expand upon it undaunted and unaffected because he will not be the first (or the last) to come by such presentation in regards to her. « MAKE IT FIVE. » She's joking. Probably. OR MAYBE NOT. Either way, there's a gentle brush like the aftershock of one too-bombastic sound, something that might be considered gentle by Leirith's standards, as if there is a gentle nudge of affection from so very far away. « AND WE WISH YOU FARE WELL, AND EVERY GOOD LUCK. » More laughter, and then she retreats. Honestly, the river might not be a bad idea…

Every little distraction helps. Hopefully. "I have a tendency to forget," F'inn admits as he continues to comb his fingers through K'zre's hair. With the greenrider nibbling at his chin, he lets his head tilt back, pale lashes sweeping down in a half-lidded gaze as he exhales a low sound of contentment. "I always end up choosing the too hot options," is murmured in tones that are only mildly distressed. "And I miss you while I'm out there." Which is true and something he hates. "And I don't like the thought of other men giving you candy." Not even a little bit. He hates that. And woe be unto F'yr should F'inn come across him. It is after a lengthy silence that he sighs and admits, "I'm homesick."

[Dragon/IGW] Glorioth's been to Igen before. He's even manage to get wrangled away from Igen before he has time to make more than a ROUTINE display of his DUMB AS ROCKS FAUX-HEROICISM AND MADE UP VOCABULARY. But all thank you notes for today's visit may be directed to K'zre and F'inn, c/o YASMINATH and NYMIONTH, c/o LEIRITH WITH BADASS SMOOCHIES OR DESTRUCTION WITH FIRE, whichever it pleases a person to send as a gesture of gratitude. It's hard to miss the brief altercation between the MUCH TOO LOUD (HAVE WE MENTIONED TOO LOUD) bronze from Xanadu and the dragon on watch duty. The booming reach of his larger-than-life mindvoice, with crescendo of off-key theme music, the clash of weapons and the acrid smell of smoke burning something truly unpleasant mingled with the more natural notes of everything DRAGONLY like LEATHER and SWEAT— WAIT, MAYBE NOT THAT BUT SOMETHING ELSE VERY MUSKY MANLY DRAGONLY. ANYWAY. THE EXCHANGE GOES SOMETHING LIKE THIS: « I HAVE COME FOR JUSTICE! MY VENGEANCE ON THE AMBROSIAL BOUNTY BANDIT OF NAUGHTY AND NEFARIOUS DESIGNS. DIRECT ME TO THE CANDY CATBURGLER. I SHALL- » but listen, no one needs to hear that very violent description of what he's going to do. Mind, it's only that violent because, apparently, according to the images that are offered in caricature of anything even remotely real, the candy thief appears to have the head of a bovine and the rump of a porcine. This probably isn't a reflection of K'zre. Probably. IN ANY CASE, A SHORT, TART RESPONSE LATER, GLORIOTH IS WINGING DOWN TOWARD THE BOWL… AND THE JUSTEST KIND OF JUSTICE. If anything like it can be found.

[Dragon/IGW] Kelsith twists tendrils of mist around his mind, hidden away somewhere, lurking. « Justice is far easier to obtain when you have the element of surprise. » The mists darken, and swirl. « Though, it would seem you are well past *that* point. »

K'zre is being distracted. He knows this. But he also welcomes it. And so he's happy to wiggle in a little closer; to let his teeth and tongue trace along the edge of F'inn's jaw and down his throat, nibbling a path over stubble and skin as a quiet hum vibrates in his chest. "You don't," he accuses, the words a mumbled breath against his weyrmate's neck. "You just think they're not as hot as they are until you eat them." That's his take on it, anyway. Bravado, maybe. But it makes K'zre smile, even if it's a subtle thing. But the more heartfelt confessions have him leaning in, lips pressed to skin in a firm, lingering kiss. "I miss you, too," he quietly admits. "And I miss home. I miss Fort. I miss our weyr, and our fire, and our furs and…" And he'd better stop now, before the emotions become too much and he starts crying again. "I'll do better," he promises again. "I will go with you to the sands. I'll bring you lunch, and dinner. I'll stay there… if you want me to."

[Dragon/IGW] Yasminath is not sure what that crazy-creature connected to her lifemate is (or even that it's connected to her lifemate) but she clearly connected the dots between JUSTICE-SEEKING-BRONZE and GUILTRIDDEN LIFEMATE and decides « We didn't mean to do it! It was an accident! It was a very delicious accident but it's maybe your fault for bringing delicious candy into the Weyr and into our path and into our sight and not sharing because not sharing is mean and maybe you should have shared the candy and then K'zre wouldn't have taken the candy and no you cannot have it back because it is ours now and also it was delicious! » This is Yasminath being fierce. Fear.

[Dragon/IGW] Nymionth sighs. Do dragons sigh? Nymionth is definately sighing. He is also rolling his eyes so hard they spring out of his head, make a few circuits around the bowl, and return in time for him to announce just as LOUDLY. « A Quest! The only hope of regaining that which is lost is to search the desert far and wide for the one.. YES.. ONE. SINGLE. PURPLE AND PINK Stripped rock in all of Igen!! » He's going to ignore the new details regarding the candy theft that come pouring out of his little green. Instead, he assures. « Many bold and…. uh… fierce… and… vicious.. Kobolds» Where he got that word from we may never know. «Stand between the brave warrior, the rock and the prize of… an…ENTIRELY NEW BAG OF CANDY!» Because that sounds good, right? Sure. Go fight kobolds in the desert for a while Glorioth. It's Leirith's fault. >.> She insisted on a quest.

F'inn had a lot of sweet things to say. So many sweet things. Unfortunately, all of that is blown out of the water by.. Well.. Yeah. "Oi." Pushing up on his elbows, F'inn side eyes the entrance to the weyr, lightly clearing his throat. "We should probably…" He's going to be skinned alive by Alexa, he's fairly certain of that. Snagging the remaining bag of candy, he presses a kiss to K'zre's brow before twisting around to get to his feet. "Just let me handle this and we'll go from there." Fortunately, they still have a mountain of sweets in the weyr. F'yr is just going to have to content himself with Igencentric candies rather then what he came with.

K'zre heard it. Of course he did. Yasminath answered it. He stiffens against F'inn, sweet words and sweet kisses forgotten in the wake of bronze dragons and challenges and bags of candy. There are no words as he pushes himself up, lets F'inn out of his grasp and watches as he snags the bag. Just a flicker of something like guilt or resentment or sorrow before he locks it away with a sigh and a scrub of his hand over his face. It's the 'let me handle it' that has him almost wincing, and staying right where he is on the couch. Waiting, maybe. A breath, caught and held and then released. As though K'zre might have said something but changed his mind first. Another, and he flicks a glance up at F'inn before asking, "Do… should I say here?"

[Dragon/IGW] Glorioth's never known subtlety or surprise, it's true Kelsith. Just as Glorioth has never known a doubt or a consequence (or not one that could, in any way, be linked to his behavior. Arguably, there's been a learning curve since he was shelled, but most of the leg-work is done by the one half of the pair with any brains to speak of, and even then… honestly, things are pretty sketchy as success goes. All Glorioth knows, but with extreme certainty, is the RADIANCE OF HIS OWN VALOR. IT IS THE BOLDEST OF BOLD, THE MOST GLORIOUS OF THE GLORYFUL, THE NOBLEY NOBLEST. Okay, listen, the point is that he's GREAT. And he knows it. And any doubts you have sounds like a you problem, which he will not notice (not because he's too high and mighty for that, even though he is), but because you're just not as interesting to him as he is. To himself. SO NOW THAT EVERYONE IS CLEAR ON THAT POINT, IT ONLY FOLLOWS RIGHTLY THAT GLORIOTH SEIZES ON POOR, SWEET YASMINATH'S CONFESSION WITH A VERY LOUD, « AHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHAH HAAH! I KNEW THE CULPRIT WOULD FALL TO THE POWER OF MY PERSUASION, THE VERY BRILLIANCE OF MY BATTLEPLAN. » So there, Kelsith. See where BOLDNESS GOT HIM? RIP F'yr because that is the take-home here and no amount of argument or sighing later will convince him he was wrong (not that it ever could have - a lost cause from before it's begun). « SINCE YOUR STICKY-FINGERED SUSPECT HAS CONSUMED THE EVIDENCE, » of which he cares for not at all, honestly, « LET HIM BE BROUGHT TO JUSTICE. » Since Yasminath's rider has the head of a bovine and the rear of a porcine, he can get very creative with just what that bloody justice might be. Nevermind that it doesn't begin to encroach into the brain that MUST BE IN THERE SOMEWHERE that riders are, perforce, HUMAN, and therefore not in the category of things he would ever mete out this kind of justice to. All's fair in dumb brain games with caricatures of things that look delicious? At least Nymionth is offering a distraction. But… there's brief (much too brief) suspicion. « A QUEST YOU SAY. FOR A RARE ROCK OF SUPERNATURAL SPECIALITUDE? » Now, that's right up his alley. At least Leirith wasn't wrong about what would work here? Even if giving him her blessing to come was probably a GIANT MISTAKE.

F'inn drags his hands through his hair, tucking the bag of candy in his belt as he grabs K'zre and kisses him soundly. "It's the damned Xanadu dragons, they are all insane. You can come down, if you want to." But he has to go before Alexa loses her mind and guts poor F'yr. "I…" Without finishing the sentence, though, he turns on his heel and races out to the ledge, throwing himself on Nymionth before heading for the sands.

Continues Here

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