Perfection (Tag: Ebony//Aurum)

[Virenn]

Although T'jinn had noticed that Ozydith was a bit pushy and somewhat prideful, he hadn't realized that it was such a huge part of the hatchling's personality. At first, he took Ozydith's comments as reinforcement. He didn't know what it meant to be a bronzerider, nor had he ever thought that he could aim that high (a Blue, perhaps would have wanted him, or maybe a Brown, like his father's dragon)... but Bronze? After being left standing for so many turns, it just seemed like a silly dream. At first, T'jinn felt that Ozydith realized that his rider was unsure in himself, and made all of those comments about him being so 'perfect' in order to help boost his confidence.

It was only now, with Ozydith complaining about his hide, that T'jinn could finally admit it: his dragon had an ego the size of Pern.

I itch.[/b]

The comment was so sudden, so random, that T'jinn could only stare at the dragon for a second. "Huh?"

I said 'I itch', T'jinnmine.[/b] Ozydith replied, without missing a beat.

"Oh!" T'jinn rolled off his cot, crouching down to inspect the dragon's hide carefully. Although it seemed miniscule, the new weyrling did catch sight of a growing dry spot. "Yeah, that could use some oil, or else it'll only get worse..."

Ozydith nodded, nudging His with his muzzle. We should do something about it right away.[/b]

"Don't worry, we'll get it out in a second!" T'jinn said as he grabbed the oil and a rag, with intents on rubbing all traces of the dry spot off of his beloved Ozydith's hide. There was no way his dragonet was going to itch! Not on his watch! What kind of rider would he be if he couldn't even properly care for his dragon? "Just, give me one moment." Uncapping the oil, he poured a little on the rag as he sat down and started to rub at the spot that was causing his dragon so much discomfort.

Because he was so quick to jump at his dragon's every whim, T'jinn hadn't expected Ozydith to say anything as he rubbed at the spot. And yet, the dragon always seemed to prove him wrong. Loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear, his next statement was practically an announcement. How am I supposed to show off this gorgeous perfection if I'm itchy, T'jinnmine? My hide must remain immaculate. [/b]

"Ozydith!" T'jinn all but squeaked out, nearly knocking down the oil in the process.

What?[/b] He asked, confused. It's true. Everyone should know that I'm perfect in every way.[/b] Almost as an afterthought, the dragonet added, And you are, too. Why must I keep reminding you?[/b]

"Oh, Faranth, Oz!" T'jinn hissed as he looked around the barracks, praying that no one heard, or was paying attention, to a word the dragonet was saying. "This is embarrassing..." he muttered, concentrating solely on rubbing oil into the dry spot on the Bronze's hide.

That's the spot.[/b] Ozydith said, not quite bothering to notice just how embarrassed His was. He would realize soon enough that, as his rider, he was every bit as perfect as he was. If he had to make a speech about it, by Faranth, he would.

[Little Ebony]

The Weyr was relatively quiet that morning. Relatively, that is, until a noise rumbled through the air. It started with a distant rumbling, like thunder rolling in over the horizon, but drew nearer with more speed than any thunderstorm had ever mustered on Pern. Soon, the noise was more distinguishable, and finally recognizable as thunderous foot falls. They were drawing nearer the barracks with deliberate intent. Shadows soon appeared in the doorway. There was a flash of a draconic silhouette, but it disappeared a second later as a flash of pink and yellow barreled into the room without hesitation. When the speeding dragonette was finally visible, it was easily identifiable as Louqith (and really, who else could it be)? He raced across the barracks as if the edge of threadfall was at his heels.

There was a strange shape bumping along over his head, making it near impossible for Louqith to see except on the rare moments when it bounced straight up. It was-- a bucket!? Louqith did, indeed, have a bucket over his head. A still dripping bucket. His hide glistened wetly as Louqith made his way directly for Ozydith. A bottle of oil bounced against his side from where it was tied to the bucket, spraying him sporadically with the glossy liquid.

I HAAAAAAAAAATE BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATHS!

The little Yellow had bellowed loudly enough that the entirety of the Weyr had probably heard him. As if in response to his bellows, a second silhouette appeared in the doorway and there was no doubt about who the second arrival. Aurum stood in the doorway, chest heaving and face pinkened. She held a scrubbing brush in one hand and raised it like a weapon as she raced after Hers.

Louqith, though, kept running steadily at Ozydith, headlong and without slowing. At the very last possible second he leaped, diving right over his brother and tearing off down the second half of the barracks, but not before spattering the bronze with water, sweetsand, and oil. Aurum, so close behind him, barely had time to react and barely jumped high enough to clear the young dragon. She stumbled as she landed, going so far as to land roughly on her knees. When she looked up, she could no longer see Hers.

Aurum stood, her back to the bronzepair, as she studied the room warily. There were only so many places to hide a bright pink dragon, even an infant such as Louqith.

"You certainly liked the scrubbing part..." she grumbled reproachfully.

There wasn't sweetsand then! he whined piteously from his hiding place.

Aurum's attention was caught by the movement of what she'd thought was originally a side table, and she now recognized as the bucket Louqith had managed to hat himself with during his escape. She moved slowly down the room towards him as quietly as she could.