Dragon Rider Play

"Thank you. You have very good defense." Tithenor skipped back a few paces, disengaging from the fight to catch a breath. "How good is your defense?" He surged forward, blade flashing agressively though his face Still remained cool and unemotional.

Pat dropped her eyes. "I apologize for arguing. You are the expert, and I'm just a... city boy. Forgive me."

Blade managed to deflect the blade, and in one deft movement, disarmed Tithenor. "Well, let's just say I wouldn't be alive now if I didn't have a good sword game. And that was awfully sneaky of you. Are we not playing by gentleman's rules anymore?"

Mark shook his head. "It's fine. We are allowed to have different opinions."

"My dear boy, those are in the rules," Tithenor drawled. "Now that you have disarmed me, how do you intend to kill me?"

"Thank you," Pat said softly. /eing a boy was hard! They had to follow all sorts of different rules than girls.

Blade grinned wickedly. "Are you sure you want to invest that kind of power in me?" He spun his sword in his hand.

Mark shrugged and looked for a different book to read. He settled on one depicting the history of riders.

"You have that power every time you hold a balde in your hand," Tithenor pointed out in all seriousness. "Are you certain you wish to hold that power over others?"

Pat found a book of dragon breeds and sat to read.

Blade shrugged. "I use this power for my own gain. I don't have a gain in ending you, so why should I have to kill you?"

Mark wrote notes from his book on some paper and writing utensils the library provided. His handwriting was small and neat.

"For the rush of power," he said simply and turned his back, using his foot to flip his sword into his hand. "I believe I shall do some archery."

Pat glanced over then sat and watched. She didn't know how to write. Technically, she wasn't even supposed to know how to read but had taught herself. Reading just meant borrowing and hiding the occational book. Writing required supplies she didn't dare posses.

"Eh. I can't shoot. Tried to once, and failed. I can throw knives pretty damn well though." Blade said. He followed Blue to the archery range.

Mark knew how to read and write, even though he wasn't upper class. It was because as a breeder, and dealing with merchants and upperclass at regular intervals, his family thought it wise to teach him to help him make transactions and allow him to catalog dragons on the farm and make transactions.

"You only tried once and failed, therefore you cannot?" Tithenor asked mildly. He chose one of the student bows and weighed it in his hand. Deftly, he strung the bow and chose an arrow. "Show me?"

Pat said nothing, just studied, watching every swoop and curve he made.

Blade tested the bow's strength before he quickly loosed an arrow at the target. It hit the outermost ring. He shook his head. "It mostly just feels weird. To me, it feels a lot more natural and easier to do this." He pulled out a hidden knife and threw it at the same target. It buried itself a solid couple of inches into the center.

Mark's writing was neat and looked confident. He noticed Pat staring after a while. "Uhhh, can I help you?"

"That is a fair assessment," Blue agreed. He took the bow and chose another arrow, not even looking as he leisurely loosed the arrow toward the target. The arrow struck right next to Blade's knife toward the center side. "I prefer to be farther away. I see better from a distance."

Pat blushed and dropped her gaze. "No. I'm sorry."

Blade nodded, impressed. "Not bad. I still prefer being up close and personal, but I can still throw knives accurately from a respectable distance."

"It's fine." Mark said. "I'm just curious what you were doing now."

(Why does this stupid thing delete incoming messages when I clear my sent box?? Send last message again, please? )

"That is an admirable skill, one I am not strong in," Blue said, leaning on his bow. "I will have to trust you to watch my back in a fight."

"It's weird. Never mind. I'm sorry for staring," Pat mumbled, staring at her book.

(Because it's stupid? And no problem XD Just give me a moment to respond here and...)

"Only if I can trust you won't turn me into a porcupine." Blade compromised.

Mark shook his head. "You can trust me. You're overly shy, and I at least don't think I've done anything to make you distrust me."

"I believe we can make that pact," Blue agreed, turning to walk away from the target. "You take care of close enemies, I take care of enemies from afar, who shall take care of those in the between?"

Pat cut her eyes toward him then back to her book. "I, um, I can't, you know, read."

Blade retrieved his knife and followed the elf. "Hmm... what about Mark? He seems like a strong enough guy."

"Except you were reading in your bunk when we came to ask you if you wanted to go to another island with us earlier." Mark pointed out.

Tithenor considered. "That seems like a good choice. We should see what he is capable of."

Pat fiddled with her book. "Read a little... More than that I can't write."

Blade nodded. "Seems fair enough."

"Do you want me to help teach you?" Mark offered.

"And young Pat? I am afraid he will not have much of a place amonst us." Tithenor stopped and turned to measure the distance between himself and the now tiny target.

Pat glanced at Mark then dropped her gaze again. "I do not wish o be any trouble."

Blade shrugged. "Eh. Pat could be used as a distraction. Or bait to get our enemies right where we want them.To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what to think of Pat. He stumps me. Usually I can figure out people somewhat easily, but Pat? No." He lookedd back at the targets. "Yeah, this is too far for my knives..."

Mark shook his head. "You wouldn't be. It'd give me something useful to do."

Glue gaged the wind then continued walking a little farther. "In what way does he have you stumped? I had thought him rather straight forward. A child of wealth and privilege looking to escape his gilded cage only to find this world te be much more frightening than he realized."

Pat bit her lip then nodded. "O-okay. How can I repay you? I don't have anything useful to teach you."

"I don't know." Blade admitted. "I've learned to trust my gut, and my gut says something's not quite right about Pat. I've seen rich boys turning into street rats, but something about Pat doesn't quite match up to how they've acted. I thought maybe it was because Pat was cut when he was younger, but that doesn't make sense since he's from a family where money isn't an issue."

Mark shook his head. "No need. Here." He shifted his book so Pat could see, and gave her a piece of paper and a writing utensil. "Find a word you recognize, and try to recreate it on the paper."

Tithenor glanced at Blade as he came to a stop. "Pat was cut?" he repeated, wondering if it meant something other than the obvious. He took up his stance and raised his bo.w, aiming for the barely visible target. He saw better from a distance. The elf loosed all his arrows in a row, changing his stance for each one.

"Dragon," Pat said with a timid smile and began awkwardly trying to trace the lines on paper.

Blade shrugged. "Some poorer families with boys, to get a little more money, will have them get their you-know-whats cut. It usually makes them softer and more feminine, but choir boys will get cut too sometimes to keep those higher voices. Cut boys I've heard make decent servants for royals, since they're softer and there's no way for them to have affairs with any royal ladies, since they have no drive and no thing."

Mark patiently watched, only offering some occasional help in how certain letters were shaped and written.

(They'll still have the drive, just less of it. Why I feel the need to point that out, I've no idea.)

Tithenor stopped dead and turned to stare at Blade for a full minute. "The depravity of human kind never ceases to shock me," he remarked, turning back to his archery. Finished with his arrows, he started forward, slinging his bow over his shoulder. "Taking this into account, have you thought perhaps he may be lying as to his background? Perhaps he is a servant in a rich household. Or, another thought is what if he is naturally, ah, soft, to use your words. I have met a few like that."

At last, Pat lifted the (quill? pencil? pen?) from the paper and let out a shaky breath. Dragon! It was not exactly pretty, but legible. "My first word!" she grinned triumphantly, her face lighting up.