Welcome to Gaia! ::

Off to the side of the living area there is a small alcove. There is a bed, a chest, a wardrobe and room to get to all of these but no more. Nevertheless, it looks comfortable; the bed has good quality though not extravagant furs, and there is a thick rug on the floor. There's nobody home at the moment; the occupant probably only comes here to sleep.

Approval

1: Intro and approval link
2: Conomor
3: History
4: Gilden
5: Writings
6: Friends and foes
7: Encounters
8: Personal log

History

Conomor is the son of a male green rider and a female blue rider; the product of a mating flight. Though his parents had no romantic interest in one another at all, when his mother found out she was pregnant they became good friends. As they were close, and wished to remain close to their son, Conomor knows his blood parents better than many do but they do not fill the role of parents for him. The one who does is his foster mother, a mere drudge but a loving, good-humored and hard-working woman with whom he gets along excellently.

Ever since he can remember, Conomor’s life has been centered around his ambition of becoming a dragonrider. To this end, his free time over the years has been dedicated as much to learning all the dragon lore he can as to his friends. He first asked permission to stand for a hatching at fourteen turns - he did not consider himself mature enough before this - but thanks to a series of badly timed illnesses and injuries he has yet to even make it to a Touching. Not to be discouraged, he plans to keep trying until he finally makes it to the hatching sands and finds his dragon.

Writings

Shortly before the first touching

Encounters

Patches and hems - Kita
At the gather - Riordan
Big eggs and little eggs - Naithail
This is me trying my best - Ghilani, Ennrik
Introductions - Veyes, L'thor, Nehren
The Touching
Boy toys - Veyes, Nehren
The Hatching
The 'Anti-feast'

Well, I finally got myself some smart clothes, about time I suppose. Picked them up and tried them on today; nice fit, nice material and I do look good in them. Just sort of like someone else. I suppose I'll get used to it; it's not a bad thing, just a strange feeling, like when I first cut my hair shorter. I look forward to wearing them to the gather day after tomorrow though; I don't expect to get any more attention from girls than usual but I don't mind that, I'm just going to enjoy looking good.

Must remember to get a present for mother; I still have quite a few marks to my name. Might see if I can get something for my blood parents too; they usually get something for my and it would be nice to reciprocate.

It's a queen. That I was not expecting. Wasn't expecting her to hatch so soon either; I'm glad I choose to come back to the dormitory early. I was just sitting by the hearth, looking at the egg when another candidate came in. His name's Nathail, seems like a decent sort which is good. He agrees that the boys who are fixated by bronzes are idiots. While we were talking, the egg started to crack. Luckily I had some spiced dried meat I bought at the gather in my trunk. Cut it into little pieces, cut my fingers a few times, dragged the pot out of the hearth and gave myself some minor burns.

I hardly noticed though; my attention was fixed on the little gold flit demanding food. She's so lovely; a rich yellow-gold with darker, more burnished looking bands on her. She fell asleep after stuffing herself, and Nathail and I talked some more. Neither of us know what colour dragon we'd choose if given the option... At least I don't think I do. I'm not sure. The more I think about it the more I feel as if I do have a preference, one that I'm just not aware of.

After a while I realized it was getting late, and that I had to run to see the healers about my hands before curfew. I trusted Gilden to Nathail and dashed off to sort that out. Got back just before curfew, and Gilden was still sleeping. I woke her up moving her over to my bunk and gave her more of the meat. She really is a lovely flit. I just hope she turns out to be a well behaved one too.

Carrying water for the kitchens today, I slipped and broke my arm. It seems my back luck isn't ready to take its talons out of me yet. My mother and blood parents helped me move my things out of the dormitory, back to my little alcove in mother's quarters.

Am I cursed?

Did I do something terribly wrong once that I'm paying for?

I don't understand.

~~~~~
"Ah, what do you think Gilden?"

The flitt looked up from tearing at a large piece of dried meat. "Cree?"

Conomor sighed and lay back in the grass, hands behind his head. "Thought you might say that," he murmured. Any day now. Any day now! The touching. Whenever he thought about it he could feel himself almost trembling with excitement and apprehension. "What colour would you like best?" he asked of his flitt absently. "A handsome bronze, maybe? Or would you like another girl around the place; a green?"

Gilden crooned again, hopped off the rock she had been occupying and onto his stomach. She was getting really quite large now; nearly as long as his arm and still growing, though not at the same frantic pace she had for the first few sevendays. Conomor sighed and stroked her smooth skin affectionately. Nathail had been right; she did get him more attention than he was used to. Funnily enough, quite a lot of people seemed to be ever so interested in when he thought she might rise and have a clutch, because such things were just so fascinating. If they were going to be that obvious, he would have much preferred they just out and asked him if he'd give them an egg when she had some; he might say yes simply out of appreciation of a little honesty for once.

“Have to get one for Nathail at least,” Conomor said to nobody in particular. “If he wants one, of course.” They’d be riders together one day, him and Nathail. How would the other lad shorten his name? How would he himself do it? “C’omor? C’mor? Con’or? Mmmh.” Something like that. He so hoped he’d find his dragon soon, not just for his own ambitions either. His mother and his blood parents would be so proud, and he liked to please the people he cared about. Would his blood parents be happier if he got a blue or a green like they had, or would they prefer him on one of the bigger dragons? The answer to that question wouldn’t affect what he wanted himself, not that he had any idea what that was, but felt he’d like to know the answer all the same.

“I do want to be recognized,” he said as Gilden clambered back off him and went back to her meat. “Brown or bronze... but the politics, you know Gilden? The false friends, the back stabbing, the dishonesty... I’d just have to try to keep out of that if I Impressed one of those... but if I kept out of it, how would I ever get myself recognized? Should I even care about that?” Why couldn’t he have the normal existential problems boys his age usually had? Why couldn’t he feel unsure over whether he liked men or women? Those problems sounded a lot more solvable than wondering if he was right to want to take a position of authority someday. Probably only because he knew the answer though. He knew who he was, he knew he liked girls, he knew what he wanted to do, what he wanted to be...

“You know I’d be happy with whatever chose me Gilden. More than happy.” He almost wished he was one of those brash boys intent on a bronze; then at least he’d feel sure. It might hurt his chances of Impression, but he’d know, he wouldn’t be concerned about whether or not it was alright to want his voice to stand out from the masses; he’d be sure he was the queen’s talons and that would be that. Instead he insisted on questioning himself, as he questioned everything. “Sometimes, I think it might have been easier to be stupid,” he sighed, “stupid and brash. Glad I’m not, glad I’m me... it would just be easier never to wonder about anything save what might be for dinner, or whether or not that attractive girl is interested in me too. Ah. No. Of course, I’d just assume she was.”

Having finished her meat, Gilden trilled and climbed back onto his chest to nose at his face affectionately. Conomor laughed and rubbed her tiny eye-ridges gently. “Yes, don’t worry Gild, you’re the only girl in my life right now.” He didn’t have time for members of the opposite sex of his own species and age bracket. Most of them were too dim, some were too shy and retiring, and to be quite frank the rest were confrontational bitches. “I wonder if it would be easier to like men,” he mused, “there seem to be more sane lads my age than lasses.” Still, wasn’t like that was something he could change about himself. Anyone than he could change what he wanted out of life, whether it was right or wrong. Sighing faintly to himself as Gilden curled up and went to sleep, Conomor closed his eyes. No sense worrying about all this any more for now; he had chores to do after lunch, and he had come out here to relax in preparation for the hard work. Laying one hand on his flitt and flinging the opposite arm over his eyes to block out the sun, Conomor proceeded to doze.

~~~~~