[Nine] Arduous Arguments

[Agenothree]

Them was quiet. It wasn't odd, given his nature as a schemer and an observer, but he seemed more contemplative than usual. Sitting under gentle moonlight, he watched it reflect on Fort Lake's mostly still surface between sharpening his belt knife. If he was to be a wherhandler one day, he'd need to readjust to a wherhandler's schedule. Being twenty-six in autumn, there wasn't much time left for him to Impress a dragon, but after his efforts in assisting to free that old wild brown, he had come to Fort again changed. Let others take up a dragonrider's mantle; he'd walk by night and bond a wher. It felt...right, somehow. Listening to stone scrape along metal, feeling his every move reverberate through his fingers, it was...soothing; some of those vines had been woodier than he'd thought, dulling his blade to an extreme degree. Catching part of his own reflection in his belt knife, he paused a moment, a frown narrowing his green eyes, those eyes that stared at him as intently as he studied them.

There were still countless questions Them wanted answered, most of which were locked in his mind, inaccessible. It frustrated him to no end, much like certain wherhandlers. A huff left him as he made a particularly harsh swipe of his whetsone across his blade. How such a brief engagement in an otherwise much more important situation could irritate him so was beyond him. It grated on his nerves, bruised his pride, but most of all, it had granted her a victory. Them wasn't happy about that, stewing as he was here, in addition to his other wayward musings. But footsteps would draw him from his thoughts, causing him to look up to see who it was, to whom he offered a wrinkled nose and pursed lips. "It's you," he greeted curtly, looking down to his belt knife again in utter disinterest for Ronica. "Come to spoil my glorious solitude, mouthing your pointless words at me again?"

[nineofswords]

Ronnie did things a certain way. It came from turns of being a holdbred girl, of engaging in the social dances, knowing that one wrong step could cause repercussions without end. Ronnie had bonded to a new wher. New whers needed regular feeding and oiling. So, Osk got regular feeding and bathing. It had less to do with him being a growing wher and more to do with the fact that he was touch-starved. Giving him a bath and oiling him meant that she had an excuse to touch him in a way he'd find acceptable. She also wanted to pamper the poor man after all he'd been through. And the fact that he was older and had drier skin meant it didn't do any harm for her to bath him more regularly than she did Onisk.

She walked to the lake, flanked on either side by her bonds. She didn't think anything of anyone being at the lake at this hour, but made a face once they got near enough to see who it was.

Is bad man? Onisk asked, sensing Ronnie's abrupt shift in mood.

'No, love,' Ronnie assured the white. 'Just an annoying one.'

Kissing boy who mess up? Onisk asked, curious.

'Absolutely not a boy I've kissed, no,' Ronnie corrected. He was a candidate, and no matter how cute a candidate was, at any point they could bond, and then they'd be off limits until their partner was grown up. Ronnie wasn't the sort of girl who'd wait around for a paramore, and it didn't seem fair to anyone to start a relationship that might be cut off at any time.

Still, Ronnie wasn't the sort to be scared away by the presence of someone she'd verbally sparred with, especially not when it was for one of her whers' sakes. She made sure Onisk was settled on the bank before walking Osk into the water so she could start washing him down. She didn't spare Them a glance as she coaxed Osk to lay down so she could more easily splash water over him. "I'm terribly sorry, but am I supposed to know who you are?" Okay, perhaps that was slightly childish of her, but he'd started it. He hadn't needed to acknowledge her presence there, after all.