Hatch Or Die [Outlaw Flower and Art Clutches]

[lithle]

One would think, with all its urgency when touched, that the Call to Action Egg would have been quicker to hatch. But it was only as its sibling filled the entire room with fear that the egg shook. It made no big production of it. A shake, another, and the shell fell away from the dragon within.

The For All Hatchling was gray, a pale version of that color with patches of near black as well. At least, even if he was one of the irregular colors, he wasn't some new, sickly or terrible thing. Just a small, patchy gray, eyes whirling an irritated red as it surveyed the group.

Well, so this was it? This was what they'd brought him to?

No help for it. One dealt with the cards given. The For All Hatchling understood that much better than his panic driven sister.

Tail lashing impatiently he all but ran to where the outlaws waited. This entire mess was so inefficient! How was he supposed to work when he couldn't see anything for the smell of blood and the crowded company of his clutchmates?

[nozomi]

Arkady and his smooth smile, his congratulations, it earned him a quiet sideways glance from the Mindhealer in question. She gave him more trust then she was strictly comfortable with, something that tugged at her. Jessan was disturbingly attached to the man, and something in his response... Not the words, but the time between the bringing back of Rhinth and his congratulations. Jessan moved closer to him anyway, the briefest shift of her hips to move nearer to Beoth and Arkady when Brigith began her shrieking rampage.

Jessan shrieked, high pitched and abrupt. She took a few steps back, hands over her mouth as wave after wave of terror hit her. Like Arkady, she went down, but Jessan rather to her knees, near doubled over, one hand over an ear, the other still hard against her mouth. She did not cry. Thank everythign and anything, she did not cry, though her eyes, they hurt so much, and she wanted to. She did not.

Rhinth was not quite so darling. She started hissing again, too weak to scream, and damn near choked on her bit of meat in doing so. Machi felt each hit of fear, of course he did, but he just held her close, whispered comforts with a tight voice, and rocked gently. The dragonet wailed softly in his head, her small claws digging into the young mans arm.

It ended, and they all breathed again. Rhinth panted harshly against Machi's neck, shuddering and shaking, and she did not speak. Machi rubbed her back, those small ribs, and he looked up then, face flushed, eyes wild with emotions he was never used to feeling. Not even when his eye had been clawed out...

Jiruyno. Machi missed the birth of the new gray with the healer. His teeth bared in protective ferocity when the larger dragon and that man approached him and his Rhinth. The anger flaring in his mind made his dragonet slowly turn her head, eyes flashing red momentarily before fading to a more neutrel blue-green. She clawed closer to Machi, shivering when the murderer rose back up to his feet.

"What." A snarl, one word, and just for Jiru.

Jessan, meanwhile, stared long at Arkady. "Let's not do that again." Her voice, small and weak, had a sort of forced amusement to it. The Mindhealer looked... flustered, an unusual look for her. Delicate fingers, nails already shortened and palms roughening from life in the jungle, clenched together in a small fist as the fear subsided. "Ever. At all."

then, a soft touch to the Harper's cheek. Perhaps she meant it to calm herself, or him, maybe both. But Jessan didn't ask if he was okay, nor did she ask for any comfort herself. It would do no good to look even weaker. She stood, eyes once more flicking to Arkady before going back to the new baby on the sands.

Hers?

It had to be hers. Machi Impressed, and so would Jessan. She had to.

[Inkwell]

It took Astor a few long seconds to tear himself away from Brigith and acknowledge Alezri. It took him another few long seconds to realize what he was offering, blurry as it was to his farsighted eyes. A deep feeling of want surged into his head, and he was suddenly starving. So this was what it was to be so deeply bound to a dragon...

"Oh! Yes. Since you're offering. Your dragon's too small to eat all that, I guess." He peered at the purple smudge that was Tith. The very tiny purple smudge that was Tith. "Might be good though, her being so small, and with that dark hide she'll be able to hide in the jungle easily." He wasn't trying to flatter, but rather merely stating the truth at he saw it. Keeping the other outlaws and their dragons protected meant more protection for him and Brigith, after all.

Very true, mine! Brigith told him approvingly, though she had eyes only for the meat that Alezri was holding. Her sister only got a cursory glance and a soft chirp in return. Tith hadn't hurt Hers. She hadn't abandoned him or treated him badly -- and if Astor thought that her size and color were acceptable, then Brigith agreed. Maybe I should try not to grow quite so big, then, so I can hide more easily too?

"Oh, no," Astor said with a grin; he still hadn't quite gotten the hang of replying only with his mind. "You have to get big and healthy. You're not made for hiding." He was going to raise her to be a formiddable fighter. If her size at hatching was any indication, then she'd grow to be larger than a brown -- a perfectly respectable size and quite large enough to do major damage to most dragons in a fair fight. At his words and thoughts, Brigith raised herself up a bit, puffed out her chest. Yes! She would destroy all of his enemies, so they could be happy and safe together forever.

But first -- her brother was hatching! She swung her mottled head around, a questioning chirr directed towards the little gray. He didn't seem pleased, and she wondered why. It wasn't as though he was in half as much anguish as she had been just minutes before.

[giftwrapped]

The anger, the fear, the sharpness in Machi's gaze and the viciousness of his speech? Jiruyno's expression didn't change from its mild blankness, the face he had worn when the fear hit. "Congratulations," he answered simply, voice soft as he spoke to the new purple-rider. "Her name is...?" he prompted softly. But Moneth stepped in smoothly, putting herself between her rider and the murderer (because even from her place anchored in Jiruyno's mind, she could sense the wrongness of Machi - though, like her rider, she reveled in the obvious insanity) and crooning to her purple clutchsib.

Rhinth, darling, she crooned, broadcasting back to Jiruyno for his benefit and finding herself rewarded with a gentle pat on the rump. You have done well for yourself in spite of everything, I see. The words brought the slightest of quirks to Jiru's eyebrow, but beyond that his expression was quiet as he watched Machi. The dragonet was sickly, a weakling....something was wrong with it - her - and Jiru doubted somewhat that she would make it. But they were thoughts he kept to himself, as he cast a gaze over his shoulder at the grey barreling toward them. He ignored it for now. It was not important. Moneth and Machi and Rhinth were important.

That pink was important, but not for the same reasons. The pink was important because it was attached to Arkady, who was with Jessan and stood as an obstacle between himself and Machi. The pink was an adversary. And a male, whose presence rankled somewhat in Moneth's mind, though she kept herself pleasant. Taking another's leavings. Laziness. But she said nothing; no, this pink was of no consequence. Beoth, was all she bothered to say. Jiru, on the other hand, kept his attention entirely on Machi, sparing nothing but a neutral glance and mild nod to Arkady.

"Deplorable conditions. Would that we had planned better."

[Evadne]

Now the cooler, sweeter air from the jungle was something that Jadore could sense and enjoy. She put thoughts of the horror that was Astor on a such a pain-inflicting dragon far from her mind; it wasn't difficult to do, with Algonquith leaning into her. The opal's weight had become a sleepy thing, her body stricken with the doziness common to so many newborns once their first meal was digesting.

Only a little longer, my love, she thought, and was rewarded with a wave of such pure adoration that her eyes began to sting.

She would blame that shimmer on the sulphur of the springs, if anyone was unwise or uncouth enough to ask. Stroking her fingers over Algonquith's sleek head, she gazed back at their makeshift hatching sands and watched to see what the grey would do. And to see whether the remaining eggs would prove the danger of stealing them by hatching at all.

[puppetmaster]

Such fear. The For All Hatchling could still taste it, the aftereffects of his sister's panic. Fear. Fear of what? That was what was bothering him. Something was bad here. Something was wrong and broken and he didn't like it. Everything disordered, everything hurt.

H did not snap as some of his clutchmates had, but he nudged people as he passed, especially those still collapsed. Up. Stand. Fight. None of this weakness. None of this giving up. Nothing would get done if people simply gave up. Caroline in particular got a brief his and a rough bump. Stand and show strength. Brigith was right on that much. The enemy was real. Was waiting.

All must be ready.

Finally, he came to a stop, and his voice was surprisingly sweet, a comforting churr for someone deep in pain and panic.

Iris. Sadness is a waste of time. They took from you. Took and took. But I am here now. We are together. We will make them pay. And we will build something better. We can. The dragon rubbed against her legs, the gesture an expression of affection but also a nudge indicating the time for stillness was over. First, food. Then, there is much that needs doing.

Name: Gintineth

Art Type: Constructivism

Hex Code:222222

Appearance:

For a gray, Gintineth is a beast. He's small, of course, only of moderate size for his color. But he's a broad, muscular little thing, a body builder in miniature. Wide winged, he's good for both speed and stamina, though he's about as graceful as a box of rocks. On a good day, he can fly in a straight line.

In color, he's a study in contrast. His primary color is a pale, faded gray, interrupted by hard patches of near black. Most strikingly, his wingsails are very dark as is the tip of his tail. His coloring is rather showy, actually, and he carries it off well. It's not that he struts but he walks like he knows that if it's him vs a wall, the wall will lose.

Personality:

For some, escaping Warden's was a righting of past wrongs. For others it was simply a chance to find new victims. From Gintineth's perspective, it was simply a good start. Fanatically loyal, with an us vs them mentality, his cause is born out of a simple truth. They locked his up. They locked his up. From there, it's only a short flight to his unshakable belief that Warden's Weyr and indeed the entirety of the Dragon Watch must pay. To him, the outlaw camp is more than that. It's Outlaw Weyr, a new society founded on the ideals of cooperation and freedom from oppression.

Gintineth is brilliant, there's no mistaking this. If he's an idealist, he's an idealist that sees the flaws in a group of people trying to survive without some organization and leadership. He's a big picture dragon, more interested in the metaphorical happiness of the whole than the literal happiness of the individual. Freedom is great! He believes in freedom! But if someone wants to use their freedom to be selfish and unproductive, well, he wants to use his freedom to threaten them to either shape up or get out of the 'Weyr'.

Gintineth's most problematic blindspot is his utter unwavering hatred of the Dragon Watch and Warden's Weyr. Already somewhat aggressive in his general attitude, his willingness and desire to go to war against the world is something his rider will have to reign in heavily if they don't want to die in some grandious gesture. Because Gintineth will never be happy with just his 'Weyr'. He imagines 'freeing' holds from the tyranny of the Watch, imagines taking over Weyrs and uniting them under the Outlaw banner. And why not? Outlaws has irregulars, the most dangerous dragons on Pern. He believes they could do it and that they should do it.

For all his brilliance, Gintineth is not a leader. He completely lacks charm, his demands blunt and unpolished. Sugarcoating is for other dragons. He can paint beautiful pictures with his words, but he can't relate to individuals. He's often unintentionally insulting, pointing out people's flaws without realizing he's doing anything hurtful. After all, if he was doing something stupid, he'd want to be told! So he'll just make sure he tells everyone else where they've failed. And yes, that included his rider. He may adore them, but they aren't free of his expectations and demands. And while he has ambitions for the 'Weyr' as a whole, he's not the sort of dragon who wants to elevate his rider to new heights. They, like everyone, should be situated in a position that best serves the whole.

Why Me?

Iris without a guide, without a leader to look to, is not nearly acting at her full potential. And this, more than anything, is what drew Gintineth toward her. He's a dragon who can't stand seeing people be less than there best, especially when the good of the whole is at stake. Iris, more than any other, held so much danger, so much unused promise. Which isn't to say he wants to change her. He likes Iris as she is. But he can provide a cause, or at least help seek out the sort of person Iris will follow. Together, the two are a dangerous pair, even if neither is particularly prone to taking leadership positions. They are ideal seconds, and Gintineth is just waiting to find the one they'll give their service to.

[firebird]

Yekemi clambered out of the hot springs once the tortie Impressed and he could hear himself think again. Ugh, it figured that such a noisy thing would go to that self-centered brat. It would have been much better had the pyromaniac been left on the sands, because now he would be even more insufferable than before.

At least another egg had also hatched decently healthy. It would not do for too many of their stolen dragonets to die. Yekemi walked back to the entrance to the cavern, intending to leave, but stopped when he passed by Caroline. What was wrong with the girl? Hopefully just the heat, and not anything contagious.

"Wouldn't it be better for you to go lie down somewhere?" he asked her. If her strange moods continued even after she was separated from the heat and damp, then it would be a very bad sign for the rest of the outlaws. In that case, it would be best for her to be isolated immediately.

[nozomi]

Moneth. Rhinth spoke in that same sugar-sweet tone, though under it all, Machi could feel her roiling disgust for her human-flesh eating sister. Such a smeared and disgusting hide - not as beautiful as her darling riders flawless skin, flit claw scars aside. Mine is lovely, isn't he? Yours as well - it's so good to see you picked someone so attractive. Opposites attract, you know.

And then, more food, hand-fed to her by that glaring, all but spitting Machi. Jiru and his staring were unwelcome, and Machi bared his teeth in what may have been confused with a smile, at some point in his life. He held her close, the small dragonet finally somewhat warmed by his body heat, and did his best to stare Jiru down.

"Rhinth." His lip curled, everything in him coiled and ready to pounce if Jiru dared say one word against his trembling, weakened purple. Even his growl of her name had been infused with love, and every line of him spoke of aching protectiveness. Rhinth prodded at him gently - manners, precious - and he sneered. "Yours?"

[lithle]

A gray head butted into Myr's legs. It was the first dragon to actually touch her. The gesture was clearly not meant to be reassuring. There was a demand there, instead. Stand up. Be strong. Keep going. None of this kneeling in the dirt.

And the dragon, though not hers, was right.

She was not the sort of person who knelt in the dirt, even when dirt was all that was available.

She was a collector of beautiful things, a woman of taste. She was soon to be the owner of a dragon of her very own, just as Roni was hers now, clinging desperately even now.

Poor thing. Her fault. She usually took such better care of things.

But it was hard here.

She stood, patting the girl's hair. "Keep your eyes closed, pet. Soon, it will all be done. Soon."

"I wanna go home," a whisper.

Myr touched her cheek, gently, possessively. "I am home, pet. That's all there is."

[tuathade]

His head ached. Fuck, he wasn’t used to having all these foreign presences in it. Arkady had never even Impressed so much as a flit before – shards, flits were usually creeped out by his very presence, let alone permitting him to hang around hatchlings. And… That whatever-she-was, was a fucking awful dragon. Still, he covered that moment of lost control by comforting the yellow-eyed Beoth. He was tending to his dragon. That was all he had been doing. There had not been any threat of him possibly going on a murderous spree in there at all. Nope. What gave you that idea?

He glanced over at the light touch of the hand on his cheek, and he briefly caught Jessan’s hand in his in a gesture of reassurance. But then his eyes drifted past her to Jiruyno, and he rose to his feet.

Hsssssssssssssss. The pink’s neck arched into a tight serpentine, jaws parted to reveal rows of sharp teeth, white mingled with red from the remnants of his meal. Apparently he didn’t take kindly to being dismissed as if he were no more than an inconvenient distraction. Moneth. He took a single threatening step towards the yellow, wings mantling, and this time Arkady made no move to pull him back. Jiruyno wasn’t wanted here. Neither was his dragon.

The harper made no hostile move towards either the cracked healer or his dragon. But the friendly smile and the loose, nonchalant set of his posture was no less a threat than Beoth’s aggressive stance. “It’s not so bad for a first try.” He inclined his head towards Moneth. “She seems healthy enough.” And that wasn’t a threat at all either.

[puppetmaster]

And the eggs shook - all three of them. They were the last, they were the only ones unImpressed, and they moved as if they knew it. Whirlwind Romance was the first to break completely open, freeing himself even before River Blue, despite it's already half-cracked state.

The gray Pursed Lips Hatchling stumbled from the egg, his tail short, thick, half formed and without forks. One of his wings was a crumpled mess of flesh along one of his shoulderblades. The hatchling bleated in pain, twisting, throwing his weight around and knocking into River Blue. An answering call came from inside of the shell, and another shove had that egg, too, crumbling apart. Another purple, tiny, delicate, shuddering and frail, uncurled from her previous home.

Pursed Lips nudged his sister, and Running Water Hatchling responded in kind. She nuzzled against the gray hatchling, her indigo hide at odds with his almost white skin. But she stood, shaky, and leaned on him. They limped together towards the outlaws, her leaning on his bad wing, skinny, creening, and they pushed themselves into the crowd.

A loud cry came up from a small-time arsonist, a slim young woman, face etched with premature lines of stress. She rushed up to them, dropped to her knees and hugged the deformed gray. Another outlaw - a Dust addict, reformed - joined her, scooping up the quiet purple hatchling. They cried and stroked at their new partners.

For a moment, despite all of the problems with those two newest ones, the 'Sands' seemed at peace. No infants screamed in pain. No one hurt.

Then Want Me Egg (ADMIN) burst open. Another gray! Another pale gray, even lighter sworls covering his body. Nearly purple-sized in stature, the neglected hatchling stumbled onto the dirt. He greened, eyes yellow but alert. The Passion Fruit Hatchling trilled, head cocked as if looking for a response.

Hearing none, the hatchling started for the outlaws. He limped a bit, shaking one leg out as he went. A little smaller then it's fellows; a little skinny gray, but one never the less. Somewhere, a child cried, and he started towards it. Another trill, the gray sidestepping any in his way, and very much avoiding the dead bodies. Guh!

[lithle]

Myr watched the sickly purple and the crumple winged gray with growing intensity. She was waiting. She did not always mind broken things. Sometimes, broken was beautiful. There was something about healing things, comforting them, binding them to you, that made them all the more prefect in their own strange way. And the gray in particular was so very broken looking, so irreperably flawed that his very flaws became so very tempting.

Still keeping her hand on Roni's head, she took a step forward, toward the hatching, as if planning to gather it up, to take it, even if it hadn't chosen her.

She never had the chance. Two outlaws stepped forward, taking the pair into their arms.

And the last egg hatched.

The last egg.

And as yet, none for her. Myr was, well, insane. But she wasn't necissarily a fool. At least, not always. She knew that there were many outlaws left, that dragons, not people chose. She knew the gray might very well not be for her.

Oh, but she wanted it. Oh, how she wanted it.

Dragons, they were yours. They would never run for the watch, or whine for home. Dragons weren't allowed to leave you. They were a thing you could keep forever and no one ever tried to stop it.

Her eyes were hungry, bright. She barely looked the distinguished middle-aged woman that had walked into the hatching area. There was so much need in her now. She might have been a dust addict.

[giftwrapped]

"Rhinth," Jiru repeated, calm exterior never once ruffling at the viciousness of Machi's tone. Ah, this had set them back. "I am glad your wounds healed enough that you were free to Impress," he remarked mildly. "I was once told that those missing eyes or wounded in similar ways would be denied such opportunity." There was nothing dangerous about his speech, nothing but that same vague way of delivering words. Ah, but he wanted to give some indication of his happiness to Machi, something the man would not see as a threat. But alas.

Moneth, distracted by the vicious tone in the purple's voice, simply cocked her head, fixing Rhinth with a look of...what was that? Was it curiosity? Jiru glanced down, realized the creature's posture. No, Moneth would not play Rhinth's game. Moneth had simply gone silent, staring at the purple in a way that Jiru recognized as something that was as much a threat as anything else she could have possibly done. That glare remained for a moment, and then she stretched, calmly, mildly, fixing her sharp gaze on Beoth and mantling her wings, turning slightly away from Rhinth in dismissal. A bitch, she murmured to her rider.

And then the intrusion. The hiss of the pink dragonet, the stance of the rider. Threats, threats. All sorts of stupid, irrational, inane motions and actions. A messy, stupid murderer.

Jiru, for his part, simply looked at Arkady, a single long, contemptuous stare. His lips quirked into something that might have been a smile. Arkady had not died when Jessan tended him - a rare miracle. He would be lucky that it should happen again. And Jessan knew it, too. She would not let her pet (and though he managed to contain the sneer before it passed to his face, it moved easily through his mental connection to the yellow, who laughed unpleasantly in response and coiled sinuously about his legs) harm Jiruyno irreparably. Content in this knowledge, he turned away, returning his gaze to Machi as he stroked the yellow dragon between her headknobs.

"Moneth," he said, and his voice was a light croon, one of the first indications of genuine affection he had given since his arrest. "Her name is Moneth."

[nozomi]

"Moneth?" It was Jessan that spoke the yellow's name, not her angry younger brother. She smiled at Jiruyno, the Mindhealer smile settling easily back into place now that most of the damage was over. There were three dragons on the sands, none of them seeming prone to violence. No, the angriest of the hatchlings were pink ones, and one of them on her side, with her Arkady. Jessan ignored the fact she did not have her dragon, but let Machi be free from Jiru's creep for a Turn. It may do them some good to be that way. No person would put their dragons at risk.

At least, she didn't think so.

"Moneth is beautiful, Jiruyno." Again, pleasant, and Jessan meant every word of it. Moneth was indeed a pretty specimen of a dragon, large and healthy, brushed with all sorts of hues. Her eyes crinkled at the corners when Jessan smiled. "I see she's taken up the pinks habit of hunting?"

She is not as observant as you, precious. Rhinth murmured to her rider, and her rider alone. Let Moneth think she a bitch - the yellow was just taking her out of context. She did, however, disapprove a bit when machi almost relaxed with Jiruyno and his croon towards the yellow.

"All things considered," Machi said, voice low, still a bit acidic, but without the edge of 'I will kill you with my mind' it held only moments ago. "They turned out well. More healthy then not."

He considered Rhinth to be healthy. Anyone to say otherwise would die. Brutally.

Hopefully anyone wishing to say such a nasty thing would see that in his eyes and possesive hold on his dragon before saying such a thing out loud.

A pause. Then: "Hello, Moneth." Machi saw how Beoth and Arkady reacted, how Jessan kept back. He knew where his loyalties lay. It didn't mean he would disrespect what would grow into a huge dragon. (Yet.)

[puppetmaster]

Poor Myr. Poor darling, dearest Myr. Oh, the Passion Fruit Hatchling saw her indeed, and Roni, and those darling things around him. He even crept up, knocking gently against the woman with an affectionate croon. Poor hungry, darling Myr.

So unfair.

So horribly unfair when that baby dragon blinked between with eyes that were not gray, and then there was no more gray on the sands, no more little hatchling waiting to be Impressed. Any startled gasps or keening would not be heard by Passion Fruit.

Not when he'd blinked over to Warden's, onto a small cot in the prisoners barracks, where His was, somewhere. He could feel him nearby! Passion Fruit looked around and bolted from where he stood in the barracks, down the length of beds. Little dragon claws scraped stone, but even as small as he was, even with his leg, the gray refused to stop. And promptly screeched to a halt next to the only one that mattered.

He did not know what time it was, why His would be in at whatever-hour-it-was, but he was there, and the hatchlings eyes burst with rainbow. The gray shoved himself up, front legs on the edge, wobbly on his newborn and uneven back legs. He crooned anyway to the young man in the cot, still rainbowed. Still there.

JadenMine? JaaaadenMine. Wake up. Don't be afraid anymore - Passith is here for you. He crooned, and squirmed. Those people, the bad ones, they took me, but I came here. You are here. Jaaaaaden.

Name: Passith
Color: Gray
Flower: Passionflower
Hex Code: FFDDBB

Appearance: Passith is a gray - and a small one at that. He is also slender, and doesn't have all that much to look scary about. His limbs are long, and his muscles wiry, but this little man will never be an awe-inspiring sight like some of his siblings. His right hindleg is shorter then the other, enough to be noticable but he can still run if need be. Like hatching. He needed to get to him, after all! His tail is also quite the length, slim as the dragon himself, but exceedingly strong. He is a stamina flyer, not made for speed.

As for his color, Passith just looks happy. Pale gray with nearly pink-white markings swirling over his body, coal-gray contrasting swirls on his tail and his wings, they are as decorative as he is pleased with life. He likes to think the pale circle around his eyes does not make him look as sinister as Juarth.

Personality: Passith sounds like the word 'passive', meaning 'accepting what happens or what others do without active response or resistance'. Fortunately (or not, depending on which person you speak with), Passith takes on the other sort of word: passion. He is a firm and quick on his feet dragon, oftentimes throwing his entire self into any task set forth by Jaden. If Jaden has no goals, Passith will make them. The best way to care about the world is to care about what is around you. Being the best may not be the goal, but trying their best is.

Even with his determination to be awesome, Passith is not a dragon version of Spins. He'd shudder at the thought. 'Fun' is not a good reason to cause havoc, and he is content to be still when needed, energy to be stored until needed. One does not need to run around like a ferret on speed at all times. Passith is fond of Spins for Jaden's sake, tolerating his antics until his rider becomes distressed. He is the sort to help deter chaos because His has been worried enough in life. Passith does not want him to have more grief - he wants him to heal.

And he is a good Healer. Passith attempts to not coddle (exactly), but rather to nurture. Jaden has an opinion? He will listen, and discuss, but never let it be said he tries to push his opinion onto the prisoner-weyrling. The little gray will do anything in his power to try and mend some of the broken parts of his rider. Oh, he loves those broken parts just as much as the unbroken, but it would make Jaden happy. And that, to Passith, is the most important thing.

Why Me? Jaden doesn't need a carbon copy of the major influences in his life: an abusive boyfriend, his broken self, or Spins and his twisted persona. Jaden already has those. Yes, Spins want him to be okay, but is he equipped to help with the process? Probably not. Passith is. He is very much into being alive, not just doing things because or hiding in the shadows. He will try to socialize Jaden while being a constant support and listening to the man. From Jaden, Passith is able to nurture while being nurtured in kind, finding a bosom companion to tolerate and love him even when at his most enthusiastic. Passith wants to experience what he can in life, and give Jaden that same joy.