Gardens came with flowers and flowers were good. Just as long as they weren't blue. Blue flowers were bad. Evil. Plotting to take over and do all sorts of things like feeding the damned voice that shouldn't even exist in the first place, thank you very much. He picked at the little blue flower in his head, shredding the petals like the voice should be shredded to bits.

That's just plain rude. You know I should exist. Your mind doesn't fit in your head anymore, too much squishy and not enough real, now I'm gone.

Myrnan briefly considered bashing his head on a rock. He was in the garden. Rocks a-plenty.

"Shuddup," he answered the voice mechanically. Repetition wore the meaning out, since Iweth never shut up in the first place. The blue is- was, was a chatterbox. Death didn't seem to stop him. "I'll Impress somethin' else if'n it'll shut ya the feck up. A friggin' flit fer all I care."

Liar liar pants on fire. Ooo! That reminds me, remember that time with the firestone training? Ooo, the weyrling master wasn't happy at all. At least his ass was all nice and toasty.

"That was your fault. I toldya- No. No. Not doin' this. So not doin' this. Shuddup. Go'way." He threw the flower to the ground and walked away, past other flower beds, dragging his left foot as he went. Myrnan ignored the way the words caught in his throat, or who might hear the crazy leatherworker talking to himself. Screw them anyway. He was allowed to be crazy. It'd only been three Turns and it wasn't getting easier.

If only people could shed memories and worn-through minds like snake skins. Things would be easier. Tear the cause out by the roots and start all brand new like a pink-skinned little infant wailing when air first hits it lungs.

Shei quite liked gardens. They generally didn't have too many people in them, and those that were there were usually either herbalists (who she generally regarded as bookish introverts - not the type to bother her) or other people looking for some peace and quiet. Either way, a trip to the gardens usually guaranteed her a few moments of peace and quiet. Yeah. Nice, isn't it? Shei rolled her eyes. Very funny, now shut up. Okay peace and quiet except for Jeraceth. But a nice break from real people, at least.

Except...apparently not. Because there was a voice in the garden today. An actual voice, one not coming from the snarky fellow in her brain. Shei wasn't feeling entirely antisocial right now (though, really, she rarely was) - she was just hiding out here because someone she'd slept with a few nights back seemed convinced that it had been an invitation to come to her room from now until eternity. The first time she'd been fairly pleased - hey, easy sex that she didn't even have to go looking for. But when he came by the next time, this time insisting they should go on a date, coming back the next day to ask again, this time with more definite plans as though her refusal had been a result of her being unimpressed with his organizational skills (or lack thereof, it got a bit annoying. She wasn't normally one to flee from her problems - normally she just told her problems to fuck off. In fact...she had told him to fuck off. But it hadn't worked. So now she was hiding out in the garden, feeling pathetic and embarrassed and trying to assure herself that it didn't really matter since no one actually knew that that was why she was here. Except me. Yeah. Except the imaginary dragon in her head. But whatever. He didn't matter.

Pushing aside the irritated uneasiness she was feeling at the thought that she was hiding, she looked for the source of the voice she'd heard. It wasn't too hard to find Myrnan, given that he kept speaking after his little Impression threat. He offered a nice distraction to occupy her time (she had come to learn her suitor's schedule, or at least the time when he'd come to her room, regular as it was - she was giving herself a half-hour window on either side, so she needed something to do for an hour) so she walked towards him, weaving past a few bushes and rows of plants until she stood in front of him. "You seem troubled." Her gaze dropped to his chest. The threat of Impressing something else sounded like it was spoken to something he was currently bonded to, like he could just choose to sever the bond and find someone else. And yet, there were no rider's knots on him, that she could see. Curious. "Who were you talking to?"

((Ff crappost is crap.))

People at Alevynn Weyr were so nosy. Always had to know what was going on and why. Always sticking their noses in other people's business. Someone should invent a set of nose-clippers. That would put a stop to that. Myrnan briefly imagined all the noseless people in the Weyr. He grinned, all bitter bile at the world. Heh. That would serve them. Such a ghastly sight to behold. They'd take his nose too. He wasn't exampt from the nosey-noses clipper. He wouldn't mind, though. What was a nose to a man who had lost far more in life?

He turned around and looked at it. Her. Whatever. "Give the lady a prize," he drawled. Yes, definitely having one of his Moods. Not the rambling in a corner rocking back and forth kind of Moods. More the kind where he snarked at anything that moved and made sarcastic comments at everything else.

"Yeah, I am troubled ahright. Wanna know why? 'Cause I got a sharded dead dragon talkin' in my head," he snapped at her. His hands flew all over the place, chopping and slashing through the air as if it was an offensive onion.

Shei grinned at his mention of a prize. "Does this prize include sex?" She hadn't magically missed his sarcasm and scowl, of course. She was being facetious. Because that was always more fun than being sincere. Always. And yet you get so annoyed at me when I act the same way. Like right now, for that matter - Shei sent a vague, irritated thought his way but said nothing, instead looking at Myrnan curiously. He wasn't old, not at all. She generally assumed crazy people were old. Senile. He, though, looked younger than her...even if the haunted look in his eyes suggested a lifetime of pain that she was unfamiliar with.

Her eyebrows rose at the mention of a dead dragon, taking a step back on autopilot so as to avoid those flailing hands. "Dead dragon? ...your dead dragon, I presume?" Not exactly something she was too comfortable discussing. Way too many emotions tied up in that and while Shei may have been comfortable talking to strangers, kissing strangers, fucking strangers... She was not comfortable consoling strangers. Or even friends, for the most part. Waaay too messy. Still, she couldn't very well turn tail and run. Aside from being utterly unhelpful for Myrnan (assuming he wanted her help or her help was, in fact, going to be helpful) it made her feel pathetic just thinking about it. No, much better idea to stick around.

I think you're only being helpful if...y'know. You say something, instead of just staring at him like a dead fish. As she frowned at that, he chuckled and spoke again. Super flattering, I know. Now either talk to the man or head back home to your boyfriend, but don't just stare dumbly at him.

Right right. Crazy Dragonless fellow was better than love-struck fellow back home. "Why're you talking back, then? I find the best thing to do with unwanted dragons in your head is tell 'em to fuck off. And then...ignore them when they don't. If you really must have a chat with the voices in your head, it's best done silently. Makes you look less crazy, y'know." She said the words lightly, clearly joking, and yet the words were pretty much how she dealt with Jeraceth. She'd told him to leave on several occasions, than given him the silent treatment when he refused to do so. Of course, the imaginary blue she'd dreamed up just refused to bugger off, so she found herself forced to respond just so he wouldn't resort to childish pestering and taunting to get her attention. She (almost) always did it in her head, though.

"No, Miss Sparklebottom's dead dragon. O'course it's my sharded dead dragon. Dead. Deceased. He's ceased to be. He's expired. Bereft of life, resting' in peace! His metabolic processes are now history! He's shuffled off his mortal coil. An all together ex-dragon." Myrnan had to pause then, not so much because he was overcome with emotions (most of them, granted, irritation and an unhealthy dose of frustration) but because he'd run out of air. He was even a little red in the face.

Careful, careful, think of your bloodpressure. You'd make an awful ghost if you stroke out now Iweth helpfully pointed out.

"Oh shuddup. The both o' ya." He jabbed his forehead, as if to make clear the next was directed at Iweth. He really should have considered that it would hurt him more than Iweth. "If ya can't keep yer damned self alive you ain't got a right to try with me." He rubbed his forehead. That was going to leave a mark. Not quite as bad as the time he'd spent a day ramming his head into the wall until people found him and drugged him into oblivion.

Oh right. There was someone else here too. Right. That- She would have to be dealt with and so far, he didn't like her very much, what with the unsolicited advise and all.

"An' you." He poked a hole in the air between him and Lady Knows It All. "Did I ask fer yer advise? No I did not. D'I look like someone who cares 'bout whether he looks crazy or not? Hmm? Hmm? What in this flawless attire makes ya think 'gee, now there's a fellar who cares 'bout appearances." He gestured at his shabby attire, his bare feet and the three-times-over five o'clock shade on his jawline. "Didn'ya know? The Holdless look is all the rage these here days."

He expected, based on experience, that the girl would turn tailk any moment now. People never seemed to stick around long when they got to be on the recieving end of one of his biting rants.