Dragon Rider Play

Jeremiah straightened up a bit and actually pulled off a pretty regal looking pose himself that almost seemed natural. He waited in the area, but still several steps from Tithenor. Show time.

Pat swallowed hard.  "Wow," she whispered.  Glancing around, she quickly straightened things up a little more.  "Do you wish for me to stay?" she asked.
"Yes, please, Patrick.  We may have need of your voice," Tithenor replied regally.

53 met the Headmaster and the Elven couple at the door.  "Welcome!  Please, come this way."

(Just realized how many characters I'm going to be playing here... XD  And MARK!  You're missing your cue, man!)

Mark hesitated, but decided to stay. He had left Warrior in the rookery for now, but had cleaned up as well. He didn't look nearly as sharp as Tithenor or Jeremiah, but still very nice.

Jeremiah took a deep breath and kept his gaze steady.

Pat edged closer to Mark and assumed a ready stance of a soldier, holding her hands behind her to hide how badly they were shaking.

The female inclined her head as the male bowed. "Thank you for your welcome in this place," he said in a heavy accent that was beautiful to hear, but you had to listen close to understand.
The Headmaster nodded.  "Thank you, 53, that will be all for now.  Lord and Lady Ningaearon Rimon, your son is this way."  The Headmaster led the way to the room but stood back and let the distinguished guests enter first.
The moment the lord's eyes spotted Mark, Pat, and Jeremiah, he seemed to stiffen even more.

Mark bowed respectfully, and kept his eyes down.

Jeremiah bowed deeply from the waist as he mimicked how he had seen Tithenor do on several occasions. "/It is a fortunate day to be honored by your presences./" Jeremiah said politely.

There was a pregnant silence.  Then the lord spoke, his tone frigid.  "Do my ears hear the lips of a human desecrating our language?"
"Father, these are my clanmates," Tithenor interjected.  "This is Patrick Rice, Marcus Drake, and Jeremiah Cross.  They have been practicing speaking Elven to enable us to better ourselves as a team.  Patrick, Marcus, Jeremiah, these are my parents, my father Celebrenor Ningaearon Rimon and my mother Laienesiel."
Celebrenor stood stiff and regal, aloof, but Laienesiel inclined her head to them as they were introduced.
Pat bowed, fighting hard to keep from curtsying.

Jeremiah stayed bowed. "My apologies, lord. I was only trying to be polite. I did not mean to anger you."

Mark bowed again as he was introduced.

Celebrenor continued to study Jeremiah as though he were a strange, alien thing.  Then he turned away as though he no longer existed.  "To my understanding, I was called here due to an issue with my son."
"Indeed," the Headmaster said.  "I will allow him to tell you himself what happened."
Tithenor's expression was an immaculate mask as he began the tale, starting at the beginning.  One of his clan was being blackmailed and tormented by another rider.  He pinned them down, but in th struggle, he lost the other rider over the edge of the island.

Jeremiah stood once the attention was off of him, and watched Tithenor with steady confidence the whole time. Death was nothing new to Jeremiah, but taking another life was never easy, even after you became numb to it. He just hoped he was doing a good job at giving Tithenor the strength and confidence he needed.

Pat shuddered at the tale, especially the part where Henry had died.  She still heard the screams...
The Headmaster turned to Pat.  "Patrick.  Let's hear your side of this tale."
Patrick jumped and started stammering and stuttering.
"Pat.  Breathe," Tithenor said softly.
Pat nodded and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  Once she was ready, she started again and told the whole tale, minus what she'd been being blackmailed about.

Again, Jeremiah lent Pat his strength from afar, giving her encouraging and confident looks. What Jeremiah hadn't realized was that when he had bowed so lowly before, the necklace and pendant he normally kept hidden under his clothes had loosened and was now outside his clothing.

Pat finished her story much less coherently, but managed it.

The Headmaster nodded slowly.  "A life was taken.  It was by accident and in the defense of another, but a life was still taken.  Tithenor, as your punishment, you will be sentenced to one month in the dungeon when you are not at your regular classes.  Is this agreeable to you?" he asked, turning to the Lord and Lady.
Celebrenor looked disinterested in the affair.  "Headmaster, you will soon learn that death follows my son.  However, as it is your school, I accept your choice in punishment.  Perhaps time away from the sky will help him to learn to take care for his actions."
"I shall see to it," the Headmaster said, only an arched brow betraying his surprise.  "It shall be done immediately."
"I believe you mean when he is released from my care, sir," 53 said pleasantly.
The Headmaster hesitated then inclined his head.  "Of course.  It was assumed, Healer."

There was an unmistakable and savage blaze of anger in Jeremiah's eyes at the jab Celebrenor made about death following Tithenor. Under different circumstances, Jeremiah would have said something, or more likely, done something. However, he managed to muster ever fiber of willpower in his body to keep his body stiffly still and his jaw clenched.

"The Headmaster gestured for Celebrenor to take the lead out.  "Allow me to show you around, please!"
"As you wish," the elf said as though he was granting Grumbledorf the favor.  The normally powerful, balanced, and elegant Headmaster looked ashamble next to the elf as he swept out of the room.
Laienesiel remained behind, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

Jeremiah glared daggers at Celebrenor's back as he left. He still remained quiet though, since Laienesiel was there. Jeremiah closed his eyes and tried to force himself to calm down some.

Tithenor's mother glided to the side of the bed, still ignoring the humans in the room as she reached out and brushed her hand against Tithenor's forehead.  "/How do you continue to get yourself into these situations?/" she asked.  She still held her elfen elegant stiffness, but there was a softness about her when she addressed her son.
"/I promise I do not try, Emmë,/" Tithenor replied with a meakness he did not show his father.  "/Will you acknowledge my friends?/"
"/As you wish, hên ionn./" she answered before turning to look at the others and inclined her head.  Now they existed in her world.

Jeremiah bowed his head in polite greeting to her, but otherwise remained mute. He still hadn't noticed his necklace was not hidden quite yet. Too many more... interesting, things were going on.

Mark smiled kindly at Tithenor's mother.

"Greetings to you," Laienesiel replied slowly and carefully to the other three.  "You train beside my ionn?"  She noticed the necklace Jeremiah wore and her brows twitched.  What was that?

"G-greetings, ma'am," Pat stammered bashfully.

"Greetings." Jeremiah muttered. He felt uncomfortable with how Laienesiel looked at him. Was she mad for death glaring her husband earlier? Or for speaking elvish to them earlier? Or did he just not meet up to her satisfaction at all?

Mark nodded a kind greeting. His mind was only half there at the moment.

Laienesiel glanced at TIthenor and spoke to him softly and rapidly.  Tithenor nodded after a moment, replying.  She asked another question, and this time Tithenor replied in English, gently pointing out it was rude of them to speak so the others couldn't understand.  "Marcus is having trouble at the moment, this is why he is distracted.  Pat, will you please go out with him?  My mother says you need air."

Pat nodded eagerly and nearly bolted for the door.  She needed away from elves!

Mark flinched. "Ah. I am sorry. That was quite rude of me." He bowed a little respectfully and thankfully at Laienesiel before he followed Pat.

"What is up with you?" Pat demanded, honestly concerned, as they reached the outdoors.

"This one, he is..."  Laienesiel hesitated, unsure of her words.
"He is my honeg, Emmë," Tithenor replied.
His mother's lips thinned slightly.  "Your father will be not happy."
"I know," TIthenor replied.
And that was that, it seemed, as Laienesiel turned back to Jeremiah.  "What is family, Jer-mi-ah?"

"Cross." Jeremiah replied. "My father's name was Micheal Cross. However, Tithenor has acted more like a family to me than Micheal ever did."

She did not seem that interested in Jeremiah's father.  "Your mother family plant?"
"Your mother's family tree," Tithenor translated.

Jeremiah shook his head. "All I think I know is that her name was Erika. I never knew her."