Bluster and Bravado

Writers: Corrin, Devin
Date Posted: 23rd November 2025

Characters: M'sar, Q'helias
Description: Mesarian makes another attempt to flirt with Qelhelias and ends up having a conversation.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 10, day 18 of Turn 12
Notes: Caution for swearing.

Q'helias

The barracks made Mesarian's skin itch. It was too open, too loud, too crowded. But he had to stay here and follow the stupid rules if he was going to get his dragon. What he needed was a distraction, and luckily there was a gorgeous fellow Candidate in the common area.

Mesarian flopped sideways into the chair next to Qelhelias. "Heard your da was a Weyrleader. Does that make you fancy, too?"

"He was, and he is," corrected 'Helias mildly as he looked up from the book he was reading and fixed Mesarian with his dark, steady gaze. "I don't think it particularly makes me anything, though I know people like to assume my parentage--and my age--means that there's a bronze in my future. They say that's why it's taking so long for me to Impress." He said it in such a dry, deadpan way, it was clear he didn't believe it himself.

"Maybe a blue, to match your Harper's knots." Mesarian highly doubted he'd get a bronze, not with the way Qelhelias had reacted to his flirting when they first met.

Qelhelias’ mouth curved, the faintest of smiles tugging at one corner. “Yes, that would be poetic wouldn't it? Unfortunately dragons don't care much about poetry. I've been Standing since I was 12 and a Harper nearly as long. I've seen hundreds of little blue dragons hatch and I have nothing to show for it. To be honest, I don't expect to Impress at this point. I'm only Standing because... It's the right thing to do. I'm clever and capable. I know the Duty. I would be a good rider if it came to it."

"Not many chances this time around," Mesarian snorted. "Bet some of the other Candidates will lose their shit if one of us holdless snags one."

"I bet they will," said Qelhelias dryly. "And I can't say I'd blame them. Imagine spending a decade preparing for something, wanting something, doing everything you can to be suited for something-- and losing out to someone who strolled in out of the wilds a couple months ago and is still working out the ballads from the reality."

His full keen attention was on Mesarian now, his book momentarily forgotten.

The corner of Mesarian's mouth slowly curved upwards. "I'm gonna be so smug when I walk out of there with my green." In the back of his mind a little voice whispered, **what are you going to do if you fail?** but he pushed it back.

Whatever Qelhelias was looking for, he didn't seem to have found it in Mesarian's response.

"We'll see..." he said in that same dry tone, turning back to his book.

"Mm." Mesarian rested his chin on his hand. "So you _do_ want to Impress. It's not all duty and honor and some kind of noble thing. You _want_ it."

Qelhelias raised a single brow, unimpressed, but he did look back up. "No," he corrected flatly. "Don't mistake me for you. I don't need a dragon to matter in this world. I am a journeyman. A full harper. I was perfectly happy in my craft, and will be glad to return to it."

"It's not about mattering," Mesarian said quietly. Though maybe it was, a little.

"Yeah? What is it about for you then?" asked Qelhelias, just as quiet, but with a note of challenge. "Because when I mentioned the time and effort others have put into trying to become riders you didn't say a peep about wanting to do the same. You just crowed about how great it'd feel to get what you want after less than a tenth of the commitment. You were also quick to question _my_ motives for Standing, so I expect Duty and Honor aren't relatable concerns for you. So why _are_ you here?"

Harpers were sharp bastards, so if Mesarian lied or pretended he didn't care, he had a feeling Qelhelias would know it. In an even quieter voice, he said, "Because I want something that can never, ever be taken away from me." And to remember what it felt like to be loved.

Qelhelias studied him for a long moment, his gaze unflinching.

"Selfish," he said finally. "But understandable. The love of a dragon is an amazing thing. Few can live without it, once they've tasted it, but it comes at a price. You will never be able to leave the weyr and strike out on your own. You will have a place and rank, but there will be rules and regulations. A schedule to follow, people to obey without question. And above all, a Duty to serve and protect our world, even the miserable little cotholds and people that spat at you when you were holdless. Are you ready to pay that price?"

When they first met, he had told Mesarian much the same thing, and that he should give it some serious thought before a hatching came around. Now he was curious to see if he had.

It was hard to be honest. Mesarian had been spinning lies and telling himself he didn't care for so long that it was second nature. But he tried to think about what it would be like on the other side, after a green had bonded with him. "I'm not happy about the rules, or following orders. I know I'm gonna hate a lot of it." He looked down at the floor for a long moment. "I could have stayed at the hold. All I had to do was lie, blame someone else, and pretend to be something I'm not. I gave up food and shelter during a fecking _Pass_ because I'd rather be _myself_. So yeah, I can pay it."

"Good," said Qelhelias after a thoughtful pause as he considered the implications of that reveal. "Because there will be no going back if you Impress. You could 'be yourself' with a lot more freedom and less responsibility in the Lower Caverns. But if you really want a lasting bond, there's nothing quite like what a dragon will do to you-- for better and for worse."

It had been a long time since Mesarian had allowed himself to want something, really _want_ it, beyond the necessities: food, shelter, marks, sex. But a spark had lit inside him when Reveroth had Searched him, and the more time he spent around dragonriders, the more he wanted it. Mesarian snorted softly in amusement. "Came over to flirt with you and we got all serious."

"Still trying to get on my dick?" Qelhelias smirked. "It's good to see you serious for a change. This is the most interesting conversation we've had."

"Mm, I'm _always_ serious about dick," Mesarian said with a playful gleam in his eyes. "Haven't had many conversations with you. Some people, they're smokin' hot, but then they open their mouth and suddenly they're, you know, a lot less hot." He shifted slightly closer. "But you, you just get hotter. And I like that you got so much goin' on behind those eyes."

“Do you?” The smirk lingered, tinged with amusement, though there was a hint of an edge to it. Qelhelias didn’t move away. “That’s risky, falling for the unknown. You’ve no idea what’s behind these eyes-- you might not like it.”

Heat curled inside Mesarian. "Ain't scared."

Qelhelias regarded him for a long moment, then shut his book. His disappointed expression was back. He had been fishing for some intellectual engagement, hoping to be surprised, but the flirtation was just getting heavier.

Wedging the tome against Mesarian's chest he began to gently push the other youth back. "Your bravado is impressive, I'll give you that. But you either lack imagination or you’re busy thinking with your cock.” Neither option impressed. “Either way, you're missing my point so I'll spell it out more plainly. We clearly have vastly different priorities and outlooks-- to say nothing of our differences in dress and grooming. I get you've been dealt a rough hand and are playing it the best you can, and I admire that a little and pity it more, but none of these things really fill me with desire."

He leaned forward, following the book into Mesarian's space. “If you just want a fuck, I'll give you one. You look sturdy enough now. We can go to a flight room and I'll bend you over and make you see stars. But don't mistake it for anything more. I'm increasingly sure that you would _not_ like what's in my head.”

Mesarian snorted. "Not looking for a boyfriend." He leaned closer. "I want a good fuck. But . . ." He licked his lips, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Maybe we can talk more after." He didn't know why he cared. Qelhelias obviously thought he was better than Mesarian with all his talk about duty and dedication and all that shit. But the way he challenged Mesarian it was almost like he thought Mesarian could be . . . more. Mesarian should resent him for his pity and his spoiled life. A Weyrleader's son, who'd never known hunger, or rejection for his sexuality, or the desperate fear of trying to find shelter from Threadfall. Instead it felt like looking into another world, where Mesarian had been born in the Weyr. What kind of person would he have been?

"Quieter in a flightroom, too." Mesarian glanced over to where two of the younger boys were fighting over something. "It'll be . . . easier." To let his guard down. To be honest. Maybe.

"We'll see," said Qelhelias with skepticism he didn't even bother to hide. "A fuck is all I'm promising. If you want pillowtalk you'd better have more to offer than bluster and bravado. I won't stick around to be bored."

He stood, placing his book aside, and started for the flightrooms. "Come on."

Last updated on the November 28th 2025

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Bluster and Bravado