Ex-Harper Blues [Open]

[Esko]

F'mol of Bronze Zenoth


If one were to look up towards the Height of the Cliffs, they would first see an orange bronze curled up. Then, if they focused hard enough, they might see his rider sitting down next to him, along with a fleck that was the firelizard. They would probably also realize that that was where the distant sound of gitar-ing was coming from. Indeed, the bronzerider was F'mol, who happened to be enjoying the cool autumn day by relaxing and mulling over his previous days as a Harper. His Harper history was evident in not only the instrumental skill, but the casual blue jacket he tended to wear. He often spent his rest hours like this, ready to be called in for drill but still taking the time to enjoy himself. F'mol began to play a popular tune from the 'Hall, and it brought back rather warm memories.

How did he possibly go from an apprentice Harper to a bronzerider in a failing Weyrhold? His dragon was everything he could possibly hope for, the perfect friend and lifelong companion. He couldn't imagine how his life would be without Zenoth, despite how emotional and ambitious he was. Even so, he supposed he'd be well settled into life as a Journeyman, playing songs at Gathers and teaching Weyrbrats. He was never particularly good with the political side of Harperhood, but he was fine enough with the skillset he had. Could he have ever made it to his Master's knots? He would never know. Clearly disturbed by the sudden thought activity, Zenoth stirred from his nap. 'F'molmine, your old life has been over. You are mine, always mine, and it is our duty as bronzers to lead the Weyr.' His eyes were open and alert now, swirling lazily with blues and greens. Fargo stretched his wings and adjusted his position, sluggish from an hour or so of sunning. He bleated and moved into his pet's lap, demanding attention and scritches. F'mol absentmindedly began to scratch his flit behind a headknob.

'Zenoth...why did you choose me? That day, four Turns ago. You chose someone who was the sheer opposite of you.' F'mol looked towards his bronze, leaning up against his hide. He had a certain smell, like warm spices.

'F'molminefool, you are silly. We have always been together.' Right, poor draconic memory. He kept forgetting. 'You have a good head on your shoulders, why don't you think you could lead with me? Stop thinking that.' Not bothering to respond, F'mol simply leaned further against Zenoth and closed his eyes. He needed a nap right about now.

(ooc: If anyone wants to just talk with F'mol, go right ahead! He's completely open~)

[Zen]

Wingrider S'fin :: Green Rusath

Rusath had plans to hunt today, so S'fin had her drop him at the height of the cliffs before she winged her way off to find herself a meal on one of the nearby islands. Don't gorge yourself too much to fly back, he sent her way, watching her green form grow smaller in the sky. She circled back briefly, You are the one that overindulges, rider of mine. Not me. Do not run yourself too ragged for drills later.

He laughed, and she circled back around, disappearing above the clouds. He glanced in the opposite direction, out over the sea, the little island in the bay, and the wind that blew toward him was... cold. He sighed, wondering how A'zael had ever grown used to these temperatures. Winter was coming on fast, and it made him long fiercely for Southern's sunny beaches. At least Rau didn't mind helping him keep warm, even if he made fun of him constantly for it.

He started his jog, hadn't gotten to it yet today, keeping a few paces away from the cliff's edge. A few dragons had laid out, sunning themselves in the weak autumn sunlight, and he weaved around them, trying not to disturb them as he passed. The sound of a gitar drifted on the wind, growing louder as he continued his run. Someone was playing gitar up here? Out in the wind and the cold?

He spotted the bronze first, and shortly after the rider sitting with him. The source of the gitar music. He actually hadn't met this one yet. S'fin knew he was a wingsecond in X'ar's wing, but that was about the extent of it. His brother was the only ranking member of the Weyr that he tended to keep company with. He slowed as he neared the two, “Hey there! Have to say, it's nice to have a musical accompaniment to run to.” He grinned, noting the man's blue jacket, distinctly harper blue, and put two and two together.

“Don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting you properly yet,” S'fin went on, approaching the two, but pausing a short distance away, suddenly aware that perhaps they were up here to be alone and didn't particularly want his company. With a sheepish grin, he scratched the back of his head, “Of course... that can wait for another time if you were ah... trying to have some time to yourself....”

[Esko]

F'mol of bronze Zenoth

Oh? The sound of a voice cut through the Western breeze, stopping F'mol in his tracks. A man was jogging. It wasn't unheard of, for people to go for runs to keep themselves in shape. F'mol didn't fancy it himself; wing drills were more than enough. A quick scan of the man let him spot dragonrider's knots. Specifically, greenrider knots. Not from his weyrling class, certainly, or else he'd know the man. Half the greenriders from his class were gone, F'mol remembered sadly. However, he wouldn't let that kill his mood. With a grin, he readied his fingers to play again. "Would you then, perhaps, fancy a tune more suited to your task?" He teased playfully, strumming up a faster and more upbeat thing. "I don't know much about jogging myself, but a somber lick doesn't do much, huh?"

"Oh, no! I don't mind the company." F'mol responded to the last sentence he spoke. "It's quite nice to have someone else around. Well, besides these two goofs here." To that, Fargo screeched with dignity and Zenoth gave an annoyed huff. The blast of hot air hit Fargo and seemed to strike a sour note, since the brown turned to face off with the dragon. How dare he send that air towards him! It was warm, but much too moist for his liking! Before the firelizard could charge, Zenoth's tail came around and batted him away in a show of warning and dominance. Fargo tumbled in the air and regained his balance before landing and curling beside his pet to angrily brood. F'mol was surprised that Zenoth had any patience for the brown at all; he would expect him more to go straight to eating him.

"Well, that was quite the journey. And both of you have proved my point." He sighed, before turning back to the greenrider. "Sorry about that. Anyways, I'm F'mol. And you?"