[PRP] Sleepless Impressions (Isilje + D'mar)

[TheWishling]

The girl's barracks were so quiet. Brancath was happy in the midst of all her siblings, and yet...Isilje was still awake. The horrors of the hatching were not lost on her mind, the blood, the life lost. It was painful to her sweet heart, and while her white extracted herself from where she'd been sleeping to move to Hers for comfort, it still... It is okay to be in pain, Mine, but your Brancath will forever be here at your side. It got a smile, but as those fair lips kissed the hide of her Hatchling's head, the Weyrling had to get up, "I can't sleep love....I'm going to walk. Come with me?" The answering of course was disdainful, almost like the small dragonet was offended that she had to ask.

Tracing the halls, she knew that she might look like a ghost. Her sleepwear was just an extremely long shirt that fell all the way past her knees. It had come from her father, though it had long since lost its scent. It helped to soothe the girl. Making her way through, there was a momentary realization. There was going to be someone who would still be up. The one that Impressed that bossy blue. Maybe....she could say hello. Slowly, she moved in to where she knew the boy might be, anxious, feeling Brancath's distaste and irritation at the situation...Would he be awake? Better look in on him and-

Strigonth. Mine would like to see Yours. The white's tone was cold, almost caustic as she followed Hers towards where D'mar would be laid down.

ShinosBee

 

[ShinosBee]

Lying down had been a poor choice. D'mar's body ached, and nothing sounded better than blissful, mind-numbing sleep, and yet it had been disallowed him. Just for the night, but it was nearly unbearable, forcing himself to lie awake. At some point instead he'd risen, moving silently into the main common area of the barracks, between the rooms for male and female, and settled into the least comfortable chair he could find. The faint breaths and rumbling snores of his fellow lucky impressees buzzed through the night air like flies, further irritating him into wakefulness. Only Strigonth had roused to accompany him, the dark blue dragonet nearly invisible from above in the gloom, and seemingly unbothered by the low light.

The mild confusion and inability to focus or think straight had thankfully fled from him by the time the feast had ended, but while he was usually the type not to waste a moment, for now the thought of putting quill to paper, summoning up words, was just...agony. And so instead, he sat, and he thought. Strigonth slid to rest on the floor at his side, long neck reaching up to keep his head atop his rider's lap. D'mar's thumb brushed over the eye ridges, along and around the headknob, and back. Again, again, again. And he thought, as the dragonet dozed.

Why him and not Marinel? Why blue and not bronze? What had he done to provoke the mauling, and why had it come from, of all dragons, C'sar's? Was he less than he'd thought? Had he judged himself wrong? Or was it, perhaps, the rest of the world that was wrong all along?

Exhaustion made him ponderous, and pain made him a bit morose. Life was going to be so very different now from how he'd planned it...

D'mar, Brancath's, it seems, cannot sleep. Or else she has some other reason to be wandering the halls like a shadow from between at such a late hour. The blue pressed his nose into D'mar's hand, before rousing himself and rising. Thank you, Brancath. He may not say it, but I know Mine would enjoy the distraction from his woes. Yours has my gratitude. His response was placid, a bit less florid, probably from the need for sleep, but no less gently warm. It was a lady's right to spurn a gentleman, but no gentleman would ever return that rudeness, if they had any sense, in his opinion.

D'mar meanwhile had at first sent a twinge of displeasure the blue's way for accepting the offer of company...and then recanted it. there were hours still until dawn. Brancath...well. She wasn't the first white dragon he'd met, but... He stuffed down his gut's response to reexamine later. "Isilje, was it?" His voice was barely above a whisper—heavy and low with exhaustion, but still carefully enunciated. "Forgive me...I will admit to not being at my best, presently. No head for names, under the circumstances..."

-_Wish of Tevarae_-

 

[TheWishling]

Brancath would have been snippish in turn, had Isilje not looked at her and pressed her fingers to those small headknobs, "Be nice, sweet one. He's being kind to you." Her hands carefully caressed a white hide, trying to make her feel more at home before they made their way in to where D'mar was laying. Her smile was warm and genuine, hair in loose waves. Her blue-violet eyes were soft, body shifting to settle down near him, her petite white hopping up on her lap to watch the boys with a suspicious gaze. Why did hers have to want to talk to the boys? However, Isilje couldn't help but frown as he spoke, listening to the weight in his voice, the sound that denoted what he was feeling...though she couldn't help but wonder at how he managed to keep his tone so CLEAR. Brave man. "Yes, it's Isilje." Dolmar...she thought his name was....so..."Um...Is it....D'mar?"

Strigonth was his, a beautiful blue that she had to smile at. How stunning his color, "Thank you for letting me come in. I couldn't sleep..." The Hatching had been too....eventful. Her heart still ached, head reeling, "So Brancath woke and I thought maybe....we could...find someone to talk to."
YOU thought that, Mine.
Be NICE. Faranth help her, she would have her hands full with her little one, "I just...I can not stop thinking." She was well-spoken herself, every word distinct, every shift and movement delicate. Small as she was, Isilje had a natural way about her that was careful and gentle, "I hope you're healing alright....?"

ShinosBee

 

[ShinosBee]

He nodded, but then, remembering the darkness, added, "Yes, D'mar now. Dol'r or Do'ar just didn't have the same...ring to them." He'd discussed it many times before with Marinel. That thought sent a twang of aching longing through him. Strigonth pressed subtly more firmly against him, tail twining around his wrist. It felt very strange to be apart again after the time together. An unexpected upside to not being allowed to sleep—no nightmares of the time even further back, when their separation had been more...permanent.

It took a bit more effort to summon the will to be polite than usual, but the effort was made nonetheless. It was second nature, after all, even if his little ducked half-bow was slightly shaky. "I understand the sentiment quite well. If providing you with an ear to bend is all I manage to do this evening, at least it would be worth it." His smile was wan but warm, only hinted at in the gloom, but there. "Be welcome to turn my head until your bed calls to you. Though I would suggest not falling asleep here. I'm afraid I'm in no state to carry you back to your bed, nor would I feel...proper, entering the ladies' area."

His expression fell as she broached the obvious subject. Her demeanor appealed to him, called out to every instinct, honed or natural, to comfort and protect. He hadn't been trained to take advantage of being able to read a room's mood for nothing. Strigonth's own feelings on the matter mirrored his own, only intensifying them. She seems bereft. Fragile, almost. The day's events have left their mark, thought perhaps less bloody of one as your own, D'mar. The blue crooned to Isilje, soft and mournful.

"I'm afraid if it's advice on a way to wipe thoughts of the day from your mind, you've come to the wrong place. If I knew such a thing, I'd be much more apt to smile, myself." Her inquiry after his injuries was appreciated, if a bit early. A hand lifted to press gently over his left eye. "I suppose so. I don't have much healing knowledge myself. They've told me it's a wonder I didn't lose the eye...or more than one tooth." That thought made him grimace. As soon as he could be bothered, he'd have a false one fashioned. Though perhaps not until Strigonth was grown. A surgery might alarm the dragonet between, and then where would he be?

"Your white came rather late to the sands...I'm afraid I missed all impressions after my own. A tiny thing, isn't she? Lovely though." He eyed the minuscule dragonet. Would they really grow so large? Even Strigonth seemed small at this age.

-_Wish of Tevarae_-

 

[TheWishling]

ShinosBee

"D'mar." Her voice was soft, kind, as she watched him, looking over his wounds with concern written on her face. His sense of propriety got a tiny peal of laughter, those violet eyes softening as she moved to cross her legs on her seat, getting to study first him, then his dragon, "I think Brancath would wake me whether I wanted to or not." Sighing, lithe fingers tucked white hair back, the dragonet letting out a tiny kreel of displeasure as Isilje reached out to carefully touch Strigonth's nose, smiling at him. He was such a darling thing, this one. So sweet and gentle, "I'm glad you didn't lose them either....It means you and Strigonth are going to be a fine pair on the wing, I'm sure of it. Just look at how strong he looks."

THAT had Brancath bristling, hissing slightly at Hers, with a hint of yellow to her eyes. The small head butted at Isilje's hand, demanding affection as the girl simply listened to the other speak, "Brancath was the last, reaching for Suwayeth to calm. Poor dear was so terribly distraught....everyone thinking such cruel things at her, so my White came to the defense. It's strange, her being so small, but I think it lends to that lovely elegance of her." Stroking that nose, she kissed it, before looking back to the Blue and His.

"I think....I wasn't looking for peace, so much as someone else who was finding themselves sleepless....I don't really know Western, and it's a strange new world...I was from High Reaches. Though, since I Impressed Brancath...I'm very glad I'm here...."

Well, if they think me lesser for my color, they're more the fools and you're better here. Strigonth, you seem to be concerned for Mine. Might I ask your thoughts?