[prp] something worth polishing [belsheveth/braraith]

[Zaikt]

This one--this, was a mess. Belsheveth could see it without even trying, the discomfort that simply existing brought ringing clear in the uncertain movements and quiet anxiety he had the displeasure of watching this Brown working his way through. What had happened, there? Had there been some tipping point to sink his comrade's self-esteem so low as to be subterranean? It was...sad, to say the least. His hearts twinged in silent sympathy, and he shifted in place on his ledge as he turned more of his attention toward Braraith.
At first, he'd merely been intrigued by the Brown, idly wondering what he was up to--the longer he'd watched, the more he'd come to the conclusion that perhaps something was a little bit wrong. He'd almost wondered if there was news to be had, something he'd missed while sunbathing--but no, he remained perfectly up to date as far as he was aware. Which led to one firm conclusion, particularly when coupled with the past fifteen or so minutes of observation: nothing was wrong externally, but things may not have been quite right with this Brown.

The Bronze paused, eyes whirling as he thought to himself. Perhaps it was nosy of him to sit so high up and peoplewatch. Really, Belsheveth preferred to phrase it more along the lines of protective, if that. Normally, he wouldn't dream of intervening so abruptly, if at all, but the thought of not even bothering to check on this dragon put a bad taste in his mouth. If he could lighten that load just a little, whatever it may be, it would be worth the intrusion.

What is your name? His mindvoice is a low bass rumble, enough to rattle in one's skull--even still, there wasn't the slightest hint of anger or frustration to be had in it. Belsheveth had even tried to keep it somewhat light out of fear of startling Braraith, hardly wanting to startle him on top of everything else he seemed to be dealing with. If you would care to share it, I should say.

Uta

 

[Uta]

Braraith had no reason to expect that anyone would pay him mind. He was, absolutely, the last being in the world to think he held an ounce of interest to anyone outside of his own beloved T'mul--and even then, the brown dragon couldn't help but be plagued with thoughts that maybe, just maybe, His would someday bemoan his fate. To be Impressed to the ugliest dragon to ever hatch from the shell was a heavy burden indeed, and Braraith couldn't help but feel an immense amount of guilt about the whole affair.

It was bad enough his dear sister Hesperith, and his other clutchmates, had to endure a brother such as he--it was worse to know His had to continually be seen with him! Honestly, Braraith didn't know how His could possibly stand it... but that fact that T'mul was unwavering in his love and adoration for him was a blessing Braraith quietly clung to. He couldn't help but be aware of his own lack of... everything. T'mul deserved someone far more enchanting, far more worthy, far more lovely than him... and yet, he couldn't possibly live without T'mul and would be utterly shattered to hear the man even consider such a thing.

Sitting on the fireheights of the Weyr, Braraith was lost in his deep, dark thoughts. He had tucked himself away from the rest of his peers, trying his best to hide his chunky bulk away--no body needed to see that, after all, lest he be an eyesore and ruin their day. T'mul was busy in a meeting with the rest of his wingmates, which left Braraith very much alone, and unable to focus. Though His sent him periodic waves of love, Braraith knew he was focused and couldn't be so bothered.

So, alone, Braraith waited.

He hated these moments. He was well aware that no one really wanted to sit near him, and would never actually put himself forward as an option even if he dared. His was a quiet and lonely existence--never mind that most of it was his own doing.

So it was, with great surprised, he heard the voice of another. His eyes whirled quickly, the grey turning more yellow-orange. He was surprised that Belsheveth asked, for it was common for dragons to simply read the mind of the other and gather it telepathically. But perhaps Belsheveth hadn't wanted to do even that much? It was more likely the stranger had no desire to touch, even telepathically, any part of him.

How sensible.

Oh. Um... Braraith. I'm Braraith. What... What might I do for you, Belsheveth? He at least knew who spoke to him, and it was a great wonder, indeed. While he didn't know much about the other, outside of name, he did know he was a bronze. Why ever a bronze would ask him his name, he couldn't even begin to guess--but now he had it, for whatever the purpose.

Zaikt

 

[Zaikt]

Braraith. Yes. That name was familiar, although not quite enough to connect with a face--one of Fire Storm's dragons, if he recalled correctly. Belsheveth gave a soft rumble of acknowledgment as he appended his running tally of the weyr with this confirmed information, even if he was too far for Braraith to hear it. In a way, that was for the best; he could keep his emotions a little closer to the surface for a bit longer, giving himself some more time to ensure his composure would be flawless.
Judging by the sheer bewilderment in Braraith's response, he was awestruck at having been noticed, let alone spoken to directly. It sent a pang through his hearts, and no small amount of concern came to roost there as well.

He absolutely could have gotten the Brown's name himself, but he preferred to give him the option to set at least that much of a boundary--let him take things at his own pace, however slow it might be. If he wanted to truly help, Belsheveth knew he couldn't just force his way straight to the heart of the problem, no matter how much he wanted to. Every second that passed was another Braraith spent wallowing in misery, and the Bronze truly hated watching how his feelings affected him so. Perhaps a distraction of some kind was in order--? At least something to turn his attention outward, even if just for a little while.

I apologize for the...sudden interruption, Braraith. That was the polite thing to do, as he'd been instructed by T'shal plenty of times. In this particular case, he felt it all the more necessary, especially when he observed Braraith for more than a few moments. Belsheveth didn't want to scare him off, or Faranth forbid make things any worse than they already were by pressing too hard; he knew full well what the connotations of his hide were, and although Western was a very different beast than his birthplace, there was only so much he could downplay himself. Too much attention too fast from someone like him could be disastrous rather than helpful, and he wouldn't allow himself to cause damage like that. Would you be opposed to company, however? It's a rather lovely day, and I feel it would only improve by sharing it with someone.

Uta

 

[Uta]

Braraith had not expected the bronze to say anything more to him, despite his query. In fact, outside of assuming that his name might be currently dragged through the mud privately in some other conversation Belsheveth might behaving, the brown had no expectations of the other. Why should a bronze wish to carry on a conversation with the likes of him, anyway?

So it was with great surprise that the bronze dragon spoke again--and the words he spoke had the brown completely floored. Why would he wish to spend time with him? The dragon looked around, wondering if a queen, or pretty green was settled near. At least then he could understand the intention--but he was very much alone. It would seem, the bronze was being genuine in his interest to spend some time with him.

Well... what was he to say?

Oh! Are you... sure? I mean, you are, of course, more than welcome to come--but I... There are surely others out there who might make more... interesting company? The brown dragon moved over, hoping to offer the bronze the lions' share of his perch. Heck, if Belsheveth just wanted the view, Braraith would have no problem retreating. Surely, that could be the only reason for the request. Still, the brown didn't want to offend the bronze... for all that he was utterly bewildered. My perch is yours, if you wish it. You're more than welcome to it. And he could hide his face in his wing, if that would make the view more pleasant.

Zaikt

 

[Zaikt]

I am quite sure. He's pleased when Braraith gives him permission, although he does try his best to ascertain if the Brown truly wanted the company at all--his hesitance almost makes him think that perhaps not, but the rest of his words convince Belsheveth more of the opposite. He didn't think he was worthy of it, and that's arguably the worst thing he's picked up on thus far--he was a fine dragon, and something as simple as company should hardly be so...concerning.

He moved languidly, spreading his wings and taking flight as though this were little more than a casual stroll--there was no formal edge to be had in him, nor any demands for decorum compelling him toward perfection. It's a short trip to Braraith's chosen ledge, and one that Belsheveth hopes is easy enough to follow, hardly wanting to catch the poor Brown by surprise on top of everything else.
He lands with perhaps a bit less grace than he'd have liked, all things considered, layers of older scar tissue having robbed him of some of his finesse over time. Belsheveth folded his wings at his sides almost daintily once he's firmly on the ground, settling himself down on the ledge at a companionable distance after another moment of careful adjustment--although Braraith's given him plenty of room, if not far more than he needed despite his size, Belsheveth doesn't want to crowd him. He had to pace things, as he'd had to remind himself. Help worked best from an even hand.

I've already found interesting company, however. Thus, here I am. He looked over at Braraith, radiating a soft form of reassurance--his eyes remain a genial green, and he curls his tail around himself with a gentle exhale. Belsheveth had little reason to be tense, and he hoped that his calm manner might ease some of Braraith's nerves in some small part. I do wonder why you've set yourself aside like this, though. Has something fouled your day up, by any chance...?

Uta

 

[Uta]

Braraith was certain the bronze would immediately turn him out as soon as he landed. His muscles were tense, prepared to spring away at the first word--but strangely enough, the bronze simply settled himself upon the ledge, and resumed their conversation.

Well.

All right.

Perhaps the bronze was simply being polite, or perhaps he didn't want to shoo Braraith away. Some bronzes did like loyal browns to support them, and Braraith was known as a paragon of loyalty. Ugly though he might be, the dragon would do his best to ensure that the bronze was properly comfortable. How good of this one to be so congenial... Even if Braraith was still dumbfounded by the entire exchange.

The ease of the metallic did help Braraith to relax, but only so. The brown wasn't so unaware as to think that things couldn't change in a moment. Oh. He tried to keep his confusion from coloring his tone, but the yellow-grey-green of his eyes was clear. He wasn't sure what to feel. I've... Well nothing has fouled my day too much--I am trying to keep myself from fouling up others, I suppose. Not many desire to be in the company of such an ugly beast like myself. It's just easier to be isolated. He spoke it matter-of-factly. He was not fishing for compliments, nor looking for pity--it was simply the truth of the matter. His own golden mother had rejected him for being so hideous...

Why there were many possibilities and miracles in the world, Braraith knew from the moment he cracked shell, one simple truth: you can't fix ugly.

Zaikt

Sorry for the delay!