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Masterharper Vice Captain
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 Posted: Tue Nov 21, 2017 8:19 pm
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Cedarian
He'd been left standing. Dolmar had Impressed. Gavryl had Impressed. Cesare had Impresesd. Shahera had Impressed. Honestly, most of the group he'd been standing in had Impressed....but not him. Not Cedarian of Exeter Hold.
After helping to pull Gavryl off the Sands, things had become overwehelming. His previous group had been seemingly scattered, and he'd spent much of the rest of the Hatching alone. Never in a million years had he thought he'd see someone killed, and yet, that green had taken down Henwas.
Cedarian hadn't known much about the boy, besides the fact he had a twin, and was something of a bully. But to see him killed so brutally, so violently, so suddenly. It had shaken him up. Oh, he'd kept his feelings firmly tucked away in the vault that was his heart, but he'd never thought he'd be witness to such a blood bath. Dealing withThreadfall had been one thing... but this? Cedarian had been unprepared.
He hadsaid nothing as he left the Hatching Sands. While he had wanted to give his regards to Dolmar and Gavryl, and he had stolen a long look at the pair of battered men, he'd decided against it. They looked worse for wear, and had appeared intently focused on their baby dragons. That was to be expected, of course, and he did not begrudge them that. But another part of him was jealous...
Terribly so.
He might have not taken more than a cut to the face from Illiandinth's wing, but his pride and ego were battered. Not one dragon had even looked his way. Not one dragon had thought him suitable. He had thought for sure that the golden-egg and he had hit it off delightfully... but that one had gone to Dolmar, instead. He did not begrudge his friend, but the knowledge that he was left behind was... difficult. He'd never, ever, confess such a pain, but he should have been good enough. He was beautiful, charming, well-spoken, fashionable; he had honor, mostly, was polite, intelligent, and generally wonderful! Why hadn't he been enough?
Oh, he felt dirty thinking such thoughts. He needed to be happy for his friends, and part of him was. Furthermore, he should at least be stoic enough to honor the fallen man -- even if he were a stranger. And yet, when it was all said and done, Cedarian couldn't get over the fact that he had been spurned... and would now face Candidate training without his few friends.
Vash, he noticed, had also been left alone, but D'mar... He'd been a good and worthy companion. Perhaps he would be able to kindle their friendship even as he moved on to the next stage of his life.
It didn't take long to clean up and make himself presentable. Any feelings of self-doubt or disappointment were kept hard in check. No one needed to see it. He would not disgrace himself, and he would manage. Though his father thought him delicate, he would prove him wrong. Even if... right now... he was feeling quite rattled. There would always be tomorrow.
Dressed in his best, with his hair washed, slicked back,and tied up in an interesting arrangement, the pale man stepped out of the somber Candidate Barracks and down to the bonfire. He paid his respect, gave the man a few moments of silence, before departing. Though he did not dally, he would not forget what Henwas paid-- and how it could have easily been any one of them.
As he made his way back to the feast, he kept his expression taught. Though the music was lovely, and the food smelled delicious,he wasn't certain he wished to eat. A glass of wine, perhaps, but food would come later. At least he was given that much... Not that he would ever drown his sorrows in drink no, of course not; he had far too much control. But... it would be rude not to at least sample some of the Weyr's offerings.
He hesitated a moment, unsure where exactly he might wish to settle.
He doubted D'mar would be there, and he wasn't well acquainted enough with any of his other Candidates to feel comfortable approaching. A sip of liquid courage, and he looked about. Where to go, who to charm. Finally, he spotted a flash of brown off to the side. There. He recognized the two of them -- they looked far better then they had when he had helped them off the Sands, though he was certain the poor man would be feeling horrid come the morning. He'd taken quite the abuse from that bronze. With wine in hand, he moved over to where G'ryl and Sarcoth rested, giving the pair a small bow in greeting. "What a fetching pair the two of you make," he greeted cordially. "I shan't take up much of your time, but I would like to extend my congratulations properly... For finding so handsome a match." It was a compliment meant for them both, and it was not said out of flattery alone. The brown was quite cute, especially in his attire; and Gavryl was not exactly unattractive, either. Cedarian did pride himself on having good taste, after all. |
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Posted: Tue Nov 21, 2017 8:26 pm
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Dezerac and Vedmath
'Some of you will not be attending the Feast, and let me stress that's fine.'
Fine and so very, very tempting. Dezerac had never been so thoroughly - or literally - thrashed in all his life, although from the looks of it he was better off than some of his fellow Weyrlings. He had deep and ragged punctures from being bitten and shaken like a toy, no shortage of rending clawmarks, and his right arm was in a sling to steady his dislocated shoulder now that it was back in place, but nothing was actually broken. Just very, very bruised. He'd never sustained open wounds to such an extent before, but bruised and battered, exhausted and in persistent pain? That was a familiar enough state, and one he could and would push through,with only enough medication from the Healers to take the edge off. He had before, and he would again, and while he didn't intend to linger long at the Feast, he refused to let himself take the easy path and just stay behind. He would go, he would hold himself upright, and he would ensure that he and Vedmath were seen to be as strong as they were.
No weakness, not ever, in anyone's company but their own. And in that interest, he wasn't in what some would consider their Gather best, having opted instead for his better set of gear. It was a set he'd only just gotten when he'd been Searched, so it had never had a chance to take a beating...and would have done a sharding sight better at getting him through his mauling than Candidate robes had been. He might have left a little less of his blood on the Sands. In the wake of that, the weight of the dark wherhide and its lining was something of a comfort, at least on a psychological level. Physically, it was less comfortable than fewer layers or lighter fabrics would have been, but he could handle that for the sake of the appearance they needed to project.
Vedmath had watched the entire process of His getting cleaned up and ready, both adoring of and fascinated by the man who was his rider. He was a constant presence in his mind throughout, as well, exchanging thoughts and intentions without words, blurring together the wounds they both bore until their pain was one and the same, just as their love and their life. When they were finally ready, they made their way to the south entrance to be led to the bonfire. Henwas had been a stranger, but the green that had killed him had tried to kill Dezerac and Vedmath both. That bonfire could just as easily have been for them. I tried to stop her, the bronze creeled sadly as he limped into place beside His, nudging his head under his hand. From the start, I tried. But he hadn't been able to contain her, and she had raged, and the injuries he'd sustained in his first defense of his chosen had slowed him down too much. He hadn't been able to save anyone.
You saved me, his rider reminded him, stroking a reassuring hand down his head, Twice.
And you saved me. It was his throat wear the pain was greatest, the throat his sister would have ripped out had His not come to his aid. Blue-purple overtook the gray in his eyes, and he sighed as he turned them to the flames. There was a sadness in His as they stood, quiet and respectful, but not for the one lost here. For his own brother. Vedmath leaned against him to both comfort him and draw him from his thoughts, and together they turned and walked away, to pick their way slowly towards the Feast.
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Posted: Tue Nov 21, 2017 9:03 pm
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G'ryl and Brown Sarctoh
Sarcoth trilled when Cedarian approached, recognizing the man that had helped him carry G'ryl off the Sands and into much needed care. His eyes whirled a bright blue-green in response and he dipped a bow in turn, the blanket slipped off his wings a bit to pool around his neck. Mine, it is Cedarian! He helped me save you.
G'ryl chuckled at that, reaching to fix the cape but he couldn't quite reach as he winced, inhaling sharply. Giving up on fixing the blanket, the new brownrider inclined his head to the other, “Forgive me, I'd bow in turn but I'm afraid I'd not un-bow at this point.” He offered an apologetic smile that turned into a bit of a flush at the compliment. It was obvious he didn't know what do with that and, after a heartbeat of emotions varying from terrified to happy, his gaze flicked to Sarcoth for a moment before going back to Cedarian.
The answer would be thank-you, Mine. The brown replied calmly, mentally bracing the man.
“A-ah, thank-you. He is quite lovely isn't he? His name is Sarcoth... and I guess I'm G'ryl now.” It was a bit of an awkward transition, “Do you think that's any good? I'm not sure what makes a good sounding name. Please, don't worry about taking up my time, I'm far too torn up to be doing anything more than this so I appreciate your company.” His expression was open and earnest as he spoke, genuinely thrilled to have someone say hello.
The brown eased forward to nose Cedarian's hand, before he looked up and quite sombrely, formally bespoke the Candidate, Thank-you. I appreciate it and I will remember it.
“Are you injured? So many were hurt... and I lost track of everyone in the chaos.” He cast a look over Cedarian but didn't find any telltale bandages.
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Posted: Tue Nov 21, 2017 10:20 pm
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D'mar & Strigonth
It had been a long, long day. D'mar had suddenly become aware of that sometime after he'd been handed back to the healers. He didn't exactly remember what'd happened, or how he'd come to be there. It was rather like watching a play, he'd thought at the time. The scene changed, and it was fluid, but there was nothing really in between the moments. His wounds had been cleaned, he'd been bathed and drugged and stitched and set. A blessing in disguise, his clothing had been sent for (he'd left it set out, anticipating his triumph, which had made it all the easier for a drudge to collect) and he'd been dressed—something he normally would have refused, but with his left arm in a sling, it was a bit of a necessity. His middle had been tightly bound, every inch of him inspected. Orders for rest had been rebuffed, by both himself and the coolly demanding dragonet. As long as he was not too active, and availed himself of one of the seats, they said. And with the unfortunate news that he would be getting no sleep tonight (as he was quite indeed concussed) he was returned to the barracks, just in time for Liat's rules and announcements.
It hadn't really dawned on him that several others had impressed...and that Marinel hadn't. He'd become used to his twin's absence during their tenure apart, but that had changed when he'd supposedly died. Since reuniting, the pair had spent very, very little time apart. Almost never out of eye-shot of each other. He knew his friends had thought them both clingy and reliant. That wasn't the case. Just knowing that Marinel was alive and fine (because if he'd been hurt, or worse, then surely someone would have told him, right?) kept him steady...but it felt odd. He kept catching himself glancing around for a familiar shadow...and inevitably finding Strigonth there instead.
You know we must make appearances. Your injuries are your own fault, for your foolishness. As if that twisted brute would be worth your heart and life. In private the blue scoffed, head high and haughty. In his opinion it was obvious—Dolmar hadn't been the one lacking anything, it was the bronzes and browns and every other dragon in the batch that hadn't been good enough. Only he was right for D'mar. Together they would soar. "You're right, of course. And we are both gentlemen, aren't we?"
They'd show everyone. D'mar might be worse for wear, but he still cut a dashing, almost heroic figure. Tall and lean, with a hint of crisp white bandage peeking out from the collar of his daringly creamy shirt (and thank goodness for well-packed wounds!) under a deep black and blue vest. The edges were trimmed in brassy embroidery, intended to match his metallic partner. The deep blue was the pairing instead, and over dark trousers it emphasized his sleek figure. Unfortunately little could be done to hide the state of his head. Stitching darted across left and right sides, some hidden away under wrapping. No eye-patch, he'd luckily retained his sight...but the left eye had suffered. A hemorrhage from the trauma, the lower half and up the outer side that had previously been white was now shocking red, fit to match any angry hatchling's gaze. It was not painful though, and if he hadn't been shown himself in a mirror, he'd not have known.
The bonfire had been his first stop...though the walk had been taken languidly at best. Strigonth had remained the picture of propriety, close at hand should his rider's strength flag, and offering genteel remarks to any they passed. The twirling red and yellow flames reminded both how nearly they'd come to death. If D'mar had been felled, or rejected the blue...but no.
By the time they made it to the main area, D'mar's guiding hand on Strigonth's head had become more of a grasping lean, and the blue saw him settled in a quiet corner soon enough. Sleep was not to be had, but food was good too. He had a lot of blood to refill himself, and the blue had shockingly little trouble procuring a large bowl of chowder, and a sweet mug of juice (and one of klah, for later) for his man.
Where was Marinel though? I see Sarcoth, and his. And one of the other men you were with before my brute of a brother began his harrying. Strigonth remembered that one from in the shell, and his twinge of interest won a surge of possessiveness from D'mar in turn. That clearly pleased the blue, who leaned even heavier against his man's legs, rumbling and whirling gem-blue eyes. Fear not, my D'mar. There was never any for me but you. I would have death before another.
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Posted: Tue Nov 21, 2017 10:31 pm
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It'd taken Marinel a long time to get ready for the feast, and not just clothing wise, though he certainly looked smart. He wanted to look Dolly over for himself, to make sure his brother was alright, physically and emotionally. He hadn't been able to catch up to him when the Hatching had ended, and now--well. He needed to see his twin.
The boy was dressed in his gather best; his hair tied back neatly, resting at the base of his neck. He stopped at the bonfire first, briefly, to pay respects.
He made his way to the main area, pausing to greet Ph'ton, but spotted D'mar soon after. He left Ph'ton and hurried over. "Dolly!" Oh... He looked awful. He studied his twin for a moment, and didn't dare move to touch him. He'd seen what that bronze had done, a hug would make it worse. Asking if he was alright seemed insensitive to the suffering he'd been put through. Shards. This was difficult. He swallowed.
"I tried to find you earlier," he said, and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm glad--" that that bonfire wasn't for him. No. He couldn't say that. "I'm glad you Impressed," he settled on saying. "What's his name?"
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Posted: Wed Nov 22, 2017 12:30 am
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N'man and blue Fantoth
The night was... Interesting, to say the least. He had never expected to Impress, and was suddenly very glad he wasn't in a relationship with anybody at the moment. Eight months, no drinking, no sex... Was this what Nemo had felt like, facing eight months without? The man had several relationships...
N'manmine, stop worrying about somebody else! Worry about me! Look at all these people! It must be time to play!
N'man blinked, remembering that he was now bonded to somebody... Somebody not human, and capable of talking to him. He smiled, rubbing the young dragon's face. "Maybe not playing, not like what you want to do, not with humans." He motioned to where Ph'ton and Tinanath were, "Why not your clutchbrother, though? He's much sturdier than a human is!"
Fantoth's eyes seemed to light up, swirling bright shades of blue. I wanna see how loud I can make him squawk! Not waiting for a reply, Fantoth hurried off, sneaking around people as much as an ungainly hatchling could. He had his purpose for the moment, his intent! Now he just had to get his brother!
"Wait, no, that's not what I...! Meant... Shards." Rubbing his face, N'man took off after Fantoth, trying to not lose sight of the young dragon while also not bumping into anybody. He was wearing his gather best, there was no sense in dirtying it!
Jacomus of bronze Kraketh, P'tius of brown Lennoth
Wearing his Gather Best was something Jacomus hadn't properly done in... Shards, how many Turns had it been? Probably since a full Turn after he left Southern. Now he walked idly amid the people, trying not to panic or bolt. He was used to Western now, and nobody trying to skewer him for being a known pirate(And in fact, a few people had mirrored Casgar's reaction to his admittance, enough to the point he'd stopped caring... Around the Weyr), and was even beginning to pinpoint more than a small handful of faces.
Nemo was one, and his two sons. Possibly the nosiest healer he'd ever met was another... Which there he was, chasing after the blue he'd just Impressed.
A hand on his shoulder made him jump, turning around. "P'tius!"
Jacomus had gone one way with the Headman when the Impressing had finished, the greenrider had dragged P'tius another way, under some guise of giving a tour of Western. Now, the elder brother had caught up and found the younger. "I do believe I owe you something, J'mus."
Going rigid, the bronzerider took a step back. "Look, I'm sorry about the nose, I was a hot-headed youth back then, and you were pushing on me hard and I was having flashbacks to being at Southern and all the expectations that come with riding a bronze..."
P'tius held his hand up, "First of all that was literally a TURN ago, I still have trouble breathing through my nose at night. Second, that's... That's not what I'm here for." He cleared his throat, then looked about the crowd. His gaze soon found Casgar, some distance away. "That greenrider you were standing with, at the hatching... He gave me a tour, and that gave me time to think about what your... Um... Partner? Said. About Weyrs and where you fit best..."
"Wait, you're... Not going to try and drag me, kicking and screaming, up to High Reaches and that ice-cold frozen fortress of solitude?" Jacomus opted to not address the question of what Casgar was to him - Thinking about it would set his stomach fluttering in a way he wasn't so used to and probably the stupidest smile on his face that'd shift their discussion from something sedate and mature to teenage ribbing.
"No, you're happy here. See, you're even smiling!"
Oops, he'd started thinking about Casgar again.
"Yes, well... Um... Kraketh won't let me leave."
P'tius crossed his arms, closing one eye as he regarded his brother. "No, no, something else keeps you here... It MUST be that Headman of yours!"
Turning on his heel, Jacomus suddenly started walking away, face having turned bright red, "Oh look they're bringing out fresh klah! I should go get a cup before it gets cold!"
"Jacomus you get back here!"
Above them, Fish and Marsh appeared out of between. They shared some silent conversation, before Fish dove down and went to Jacomus, while Marsh went to the person she'd started to consider Their Other Human. She circled over Casgar, eyes shining blues and greens, as she let out pleasant little chirps. In her forepaws she gripped a mark, proud of herself for having gotten it from... Somewhere.
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Posted: Wed Nov 22, 2017 6:06 am
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Kieza and Green Suwayeth
Kieza found herself shrinking as a rider and their dragon were suddenly there in front of them, addressing them. She paled before Skylla had even spoke, fearing that she had done something wrong already. "I...I..." She just stared for a moment, her green eyes wide before she let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding in. "I'm very sorry, I didn't think not to indulge her a touch. The flowers were always good for calm, but... I understand." She looked down at her dragonet who stared balefully at the green dragon looking down at her. Suwayeth backed up behind Kieza's legs, as if this would hide her from Neith's gaze and thoughts, but it was a childish action of one being scolded. Mine is not at fault. She was indulging me. It was a petulant response, but the dragonet did not want her dearest to be in trouble - though Kieza knew she wasn't. She reached down and lightly grasped one of Suwayeth's hornknobs to lightly pull her from behind her legs, "Be nice, Suwayeth, there is no reason to be rude." Suwayeth just sniffed in response, her eyes mixing yellow and orange as she continued to stare at Neith.
Kieza looked back to Skylla apologetically, "Suwayeth... she's..." The girl could only shrug, letting out a small nervous laugh. "Forgive me, I will try to get her to stick to meat for now." Suwayeth looked up at Kieza and let out a soft hiss, But it was good, Kiezamine! And meat is just... meat. A grumble filled her thoughts and her mouth, she did not like being stopped, but she stopped complaining as Kieza's discomfort grew. Rider and dragon both were not fond of being singled out, but they both knew that it wasn't for anything serious. "When you're older, I'll give you more, Suwayeth." Kieza promised, but was met with a soft whine. But being older is so far away!
Kieza smiled at the response before gently rubbing Suwayeth's head, producing a soothed croon from the dragonet as she leaned into the touch. "Besides, meat is more filling. And there's garlic on one of those roasts, I smell it." Kiezamine, what is garlic? "It is tasty." Can I have some? The girl looked at Skylla for a response to this - she was still learning what the do's and don'ts were and still needed guidance on what to expect. And she definitely didn't want to make Suwayeth sick by indulging her with things the dragonet wanted. Suwayeth wanted to try everything. But perhaps she was just thinking with her bottomless pit of a growing dragonet's appetite.
Suwayeth flared her wings, or tried to, the useless one pulling enough in her actions to make the dragonet let out a mewl as pain lanced through her little body. Kieza was immediately down next to her, holding the dragonet's bright green head close to her breast as she soothed her beloved. "Shhh, please don't move it, Suwayeth. It will heal if you don't fuss it." The dragonet let out another whimper of pain, burying her face in a fold of Kieza's dress, half out of embarrassment for her pain and half out of wanting to just hide. But it hurts and itches and I don't like it! "It's the only way to get it to heal, beloved. So don't move it!" She lovingly rubbed the dragonet's neck, pulling her from hiding. They met gazes and for a brief moment the world would disappear and they were alone. But the moment did not last long... They could not stay like that, not among so many people. Kieza was certain they would gather stares.
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Posted: Wed Nov 22, 2017 7:45 am
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D’mar & Strigonth
Marinel! D’mar could barely restrain himself from leaping up to pull his twin into a tight hug. The news that Henwas had died, been killed by one of the greens of the clutch...it had rattled him. If anyone understood how his brother might be feeling, it would be himself or Marinel. “The healers wouldn’t let me out fir a while,” He shrugged away Marinel’s concern over not being able to find him. He certainly couldn’t blame him for being dragged away by A’ral. “...You’re doing alright, Mari?” Something was off in his demeanor. What was it? “He’s Strigonth,” He glanced down at the blue, his gaze perhaps less full of love than many of the other weyrlings’ that night, but more respectful. He was still a bit...conflicted, but even he had to admit how very right their bond felt.
If Strigonth had been pleased by the feeling of possessiveness from D’mar for himself, the sheer blast of feeling at the sight of his twin set his eyes swirling wildly with different emotions. On one claw, how could his rider love anyone not himself so much? On the other, he knew D’mar, fully, intimately, and he thus fully, intimately knew exactly how and why. And the blue was above such petty things as jealousy. And, on some level, shared his rider’s affection for this person—his poor D’mar’s only family, and his lone true companion...at least until Strigonth had come, to take his rightful place at D’mar’s side.
The blue eyed the reaching hand, then gently pressed his head to it, offering up his eyeridges and headknobs for touching and scratching. He was content, his rider was content...until, very suddenly, D’mar wasn’t.
It had taken a long moment for D’mar to realize that Marinel wasn’t unhurt. So thrilled to see him alive, and assessing his blue’s reaction to this potential compeditor for D’mar’s heart, the bandages hadn’t registered. Marinel had been hurt. When? How? For the first time since she had approached, his eyes snapped to Shahera, mismatched red and white staring with a barely restrained glint of fury. They would have words about this. Beneath Marinel’s fingers, Strigonth’s eyes flashed a matching blood-red, and with a sigh D’mar rammed his anger down into the pit of his stomach. This was not the time or place...and he refused to be the weyrling that spoiled the night for them all.
He was better than that.
“Marinel...what, exactly, happened after I was downed? I saw Gavryl and Cesare....G’ryl and C’sar now, of course. But Henwas...and your face. Marinel, you’ve gone to the healers, right”
“kyrieko” Cause I for some reason thought I had already quoted to say D’mar is here if Vash is looking? |
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Posted: Wed Nov 22, 2017 8:12 am
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Shahera and Therianth
Therianth wiggled at Marinel’s pets, eyes becoming slightly less yellow and more green. This was good, yes, but do pet Strigonth too please. Good, Strigonth deserves pets too. He had ever so hard a day.
Shahera watched the realization for Dolly that Marinel was hurt set in. She say the look of fury, and glared right back. So many had been hurt that day and Marinel was relatively fine, thank you very much. She knew she wasn’t perfect and there had also been nothing she could have done. The green had come quickly and gone just as quickly. Yes, she probably should have mentioned it sooner. His wounds were so minor comparatively she just hadn’t thought of it with all the things happening. What with impression, relief that D’mar was even alive, relief that Strigonth was alive, and the set in of nerves with the realization of all that had happened.
Therianth’s eyes whirled with green, blue, red, and white. She couldn’t process all of the emotions of Shaheramine. Shahera felt Therianth’s distress and tamped down her feelings. She would not risk sending Therianth between. Time enough to process things later.
“A lot happened.” The words were flat. “And yes, Marinel went to the healers. I took him there just before I arrived at the feeding tables. You did stay there Marinel, I hope.” She looked sharply at Marinel. He better have behaved. Wounds like that should be treated as quickly as they can be.
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Posted: Wed Nov 22, 2017 8:48 am
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~L'del & Helsinth~
"Are you comfortable?" L'del asked as his bronze settled in at the Barracks. With all the white bandages on his rather dark form, it would be clear to any who saw him that the dragon's injuries were numerous.
I am well, L'del, Helsinth stated as he shifted slightly. Or I will be, soon enough. A yawn stretched the hatchling's jaws as he carefully curled his tail around himself. For now, sleep sounds good.
Thinking of the other newly-hatched dragons going to the feast with their chosen, the lad fretted. Was Helsinth truly ok? He could only think of one other hatchling not likely to attend, but the white had nearly died!
Because of Helsinth.
He was trying to help that... that murderer! the bronze exclaimed, his eyes flashing dangerously red and orange. He should not have gotten in my way. But... I do hope he's ok. Once more, a worried tone crept into his dragon's mental tone as hints of yellow crept into his eyes and grew.
With a soft look, L'del knelt beside him and tenderly caressed his cheek. "I'll check on him. For now, rest up. It should help you to heal faster."
I will, Helsinth promised, as his eyes began to close. Don't forget to eat, yourself.
Now L'del grinned. "Oh, no worries there! I've gotten you full of good food. My turn!"
Rumbling in pleasure, the bronze finally drifted off to sleep.
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Posted: Wed Nov 22, 2017 8:58 am
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Isilje of White Brancath
It took a few minutes for her to work up the courage to start mingling among the tables, noting that Brancath was soothing her, trying to remind her that they were worth it, that she was lovely, and that no one was looking at her funny. Nonetheless, self-consciousness overwhelmed in a weyr where she didn't belong-
You belong now, Mine. You should stop thinking such silly things.
I can't help it...I'm sorry. I'm trying. The croon that the white made was soothing, and she leaned down to nuzzle her small heard. Tiny as her small White was, it was easy to hold her and stroke those small headknobs. Sitting down at a table, far at the end, she gathered some meat for her dragonet, and bubbly pie and klah for herself. Brancath keened a soft worry,
You eat, Mine. I ate to being full at the hatching. Your stomach is still very empty.
I don't have much of an appetite, Brancath...
Eat.
Well, that was in no uncertain terms.
Isilje started picking at the meat, looking around and watching the way the entertainment was going. Her hand ran over the fabric of her dress, a fabric her mother had made for her before she'd left, counting the stitches on the side. Slowly, she started to smile, and in doing so, the white's eyes began to swirl blue and green. This was how Hers should always be. No fear. Brancath would protect her always. |
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Posted: Wed Nov 22, 2017 9:18 am
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O'len and Brown Aleyath
Just a single day prior to this one, O'len had assumed that most babies primarily engaged in one of two activities: eating and sleeping. There were others that he didn't want to think about and still more he probably couldn't fathom, but those were the standouts for sure. Since his introduction to Aleyath, however, 'speaking' had risen to the top of that list. Mere minutes after he'd carried the little brown off of the sands, the dragon had filled his rider's head with question after question after question, barely waiting for an answer to one before he was on to the next. Not even when his mouth was stuffed with hunks of meat did he cease, instinctively relying on telepathy where a human would have choked. It was also amusingly apparent that the hatchling couldn't quite settle on what to call his bondmate. The only definitive verdict seemed to be that Mine was not on the table. It didn't matter. O'len had been his from the moment their minds had met, and not saying so didn't make it any less true.
Where're your feet, O? Do I need a tunic too? Oer, Oer, has your hair ever been long? Do we have to stay at the feast all night? Can I go in the water soon? Can we go visit your sires, that'd be fun, right? How many pants do you have, O'len? Ol? Olay olaaaayyyyyyyyyyyy
He had informed Aleyath that his feet were in his boots, that dragons didn't need tunics, that he'd had longer hair as a kid but hadn't liked the curl, that they could leave the feast whenever they liked, that they might go in the water in a couple of weeks but couldn't see his parents for quite a while, and that he'd brought six pairs of pants with him to Western, but that four of them kind of looked the same. Then, he'd limited the questions to one every ten minutes. He could feel Aleyath wanting to chafe against the stipulation, at least until he'd bellowed, QUESTION ONE, GO! across the link between them and the dragon had dissolved into helpless giggling trills.
They were up to question eighteen (What does the sun do when it sets?) by the time they strode onto the feast grounds, O'len in a deep brown tunic and boots, each detailed with lighter brown embroidery that matched his wide belt and one of the aforementioned pairs of pants. Beside him, Aleyath almost sparkled in the low light, oiled to within an inch of his short life. His eyes swirled several joyous shades of blue, standing out sharply against his dark face.
O'len took in the crowd, barely needing any time at all to choose the first victim of his company, the tall, dark haired girl from that day on the beach. He approached Rinis with a welcoming smile and nod of acknowledgment for both her and Chaek. "I'm glad to see you stayed out of harm's way today. Are you going to try any of the food?" He was only just beginning to realize how little he had eaten and how delicious everything smelled.
magnadearel tl;dr last paragraph is for rinis not the rest of this rambling XD
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