Growing up is hard an no one understands [Iris]

[Inkwell]

I itch, Astormine, Brigith whimpered, laying her head in her bonded's lap and looking up at him with imploring faceted eyes.

"I know," Astor said, trying to keep his voice level. He definitely knew -- he was getting a phantom itch himself in sympathy, and it was absolutely hellish. He scratched at her head ridges and down her neck, hoping to alleviate not only her discomfort but his as well.

His beautiful tortie had grown quite a bit in the three months since she had hatched and unfortunately, out in the jungle, oil was harder to come by than was convenient. Astor had been using animal fat from the wherries and tunnel snakes his pet duster had been hunting for the two of them, but that soon wasn't going to be nearly enough to keep his Brigith's hide from cracking and scarring. Scratching her as he was was probably not helping matters, and trying to pull at her hide where it flaked would probably only make it scar faster.

And that wouldn't do. He couldn't bear the thought of hurting her -- seeing her so uncomfortable was bad enough as it was, especially since whenever she was uncomfortable, he was uncomfortable, and she felt that and magnified it out of her desperate love of him until they were both a mess.

Suddenly her head swung up and her wings flared slightly.

Someone is coming.

[S'yal]

Gintineth was doing a bit better then the other, larger dragonets. The small gray needed less oil and less food, but that didn't mean he was in perfect condition. His own hide was flaking and itchy, and the lack of food had given him a hungry and mean look like fit a grown dragon far more then an infant. Not to mention that the little pot they'd found had been very useful for storing oil and other such things.

Said pot was held by Iris, scrubbed clean and without any of the precious oil. Instead, it held herbs that she'd gathered to try and sell to the other outlaws in exchange for scraps of hide and bits of meat. Or, to at least give to one of the healers in an attempt to get onto their goodside.

Maybe she'd make some other, more sinister things with the plants in the jungle...

Gintineth had strayed to where Brigith was, staring down at the Tortie with interested eyes. Greetings, Brigith. Are you feeling well? His tone as one of polite concern, and Iris slowly moved to his side upon recognizing Brigith. Her egg!

[Inkwell]

Brigith didn't answer her gray half clutchsib immediately. She swung her head towards Astor, looking at him with an expression that clearly showed her hesitation. Was this dragon a friend or foe? It was her bonded's opinion that mattered here.

Astor didn't hesitate, however. These two had never wronged him; they were safe. He nodded, and Brigith's eyes went from a worried yellow to a relieved blue-green.

I itch! she informed Gintineth piteously, her wings wilting dejectedly to get the point across. The man my Astor asks to bring us food and oil never brings enough. She, too, had that skinny, hungry look to her -- though Astor often gave her part of his share as well as her own, she was larger than a gray and required more. Luckily, the feline build to her body looked better than others in such bare conditions.

Astor, meanwhile, had eyes for Iris and her herbs. He didn't really need them -- the shallow knife wound on his side had healed over months ago, leaving only a jagged scar, as had the cuts he had sustained at the hatching. But perhaps they would be good to have around later. Perhaps she would trade for them. He had a small array of wooden spears, and a few figures he had carved in his spare time. Could she be tempted with such a bauble? Owning a dragon, it wouldn't be safe to try and manipulate her directly. Gintineth was on the smaller side, but his mouth was easily large enough and full of enough teeth to do mortal damage. Astor wasn't going to take his chances and test whether grays could harm humans.

All he said was, "Hi."

[S'yal]

Gintineth nodded sympathetically. He was not one to coddle or coo at someone in pain, but this was something he understood as well. It was very easy to sympathize when his own hide felt as if it had broken out in a rash. My beloved has been using fish oil on me. It smells quite bad, but it's a bit easier to get. Gintineth paused, tilting his head to one side. I have been considering attacking cotholds for their supplies, once we are able to fly. He confided in her, his tone one of great secrecy. Of course, it wasn't a secret that Gintineth had nasty plans in store for those outside his 'Weyr'. The vermin don't deserve what they have.

Iris returned Astor's stare, glancing down to the herbs and smiling slowly. Her eyes turned back to Brigith, softening for only a moment. Her egg, the one she had stolen. She was not as precious as Gintineth, but Iris had to care for her. She had to. So a tanned hand, no longer pale and soft, reached into the pot and pulled out a bundle of herbs that she vaguely recognized as having mild healing properties. "You get this bit free. The rest, you'll have to trade for." Iris offered it to him, cautious of him rejecting it or becoming offended. If he did, she would simply refuse to trade with him. She was afraid of neither him nor his creature, and it showed in the steely confidence in her eyes. "As a symbol of goodwill." She added as an after thought.

We cannot afford charity, my flower. What are you doing?[/i] Gintineth asked, his voice a hiss. All must earn their place in the Weyr, we cannot hand feed those who cannot care for themselves.[/i] Gintineth's voice was all filled with righteous indignation, giving Brigith a quick look over. It was clear what he thought of hand outs. He'd missed Brigith's little show at the hatching, and he wouldn't have remembered it anyway.

Brigith hatched from the egg I stole.

That's not the only thing influencing you.[/i] Gintineth was right.

Brigith isn't a normal dragon. She can do... things.

If her rider is offended?[/i]

Then we leave.