Noska was disheveled and a little shaken. She had heard of the overwhelming passion that swept over riders during their dragons’ mating flights, but this was her first time experiencing it. It was her first time experiencing it, for that matter, and she had been surprised to find that when she looked over at the rider beside her in the furs, their figure was undeniably feminine. Though she knew both she and Fes had enjoyed themselves a great deal, Noska didn’t have particularly clear recollections of the morning’s flight. Nevertheless, she did remember that the woman beside her was not the rider of the dragon who had finally caught Fes.

As she collected her thoughts, Noska looked around the weyr and realized that it was not her own. She wasn’t sure if that was more or less awkward. What would be weirder? Kicking someone out so that she could bathe and fix her hair, or sneaking away before the other person woke up? Or should she wake her before she left?

Fes? she asked the green. What do I do?

Just thank her for a lovely time and leave, her green companion answered a little tetchily. Noska got the impression that Fes was frustrated by something, but was not clear what it was.

“Hi,” the dragonrider beside Noska said with a wry smile. “Stay or go?”

Noska flushed brilliantly red. “I ought to go. Thank you for a lovely time. I...learned a lot.”

Her response earned her a wink and an invitation to come back anytime if she wanted further instruction because, “You’ve got real potential, kid.”

“Thanks?” she squeaked as she pulled on her second boot. It wasn’t until that moment, when her partner called her “kid,” that Noska noticed she had not only fallen into the furs with a woman - unexpected, but by no means unappealing - but the woman in question was at least two decades her senior. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Clearly she hadn’t minded earlier in the day, but it sat a little strangely in the young greenrider’s mind because her mind was still filled with fictional accounts of dashing male heroes only a few years their heroines’ seniors. No more than six, ever.

So, all in all, it was a relief to be out of the weyr, even if her appearance left no doubt as to how she’d spent the morning. It was one of the burdens of having long hair, she supposed, reaching for the comb she usually kept in a small pouch at her hip for in-the-moment detangling. It wasn’t there. Nor was her belt, though she knew that much, having only dressed herself a few moments ago. She hadn’t had time to don either when Fes rose and their shared need drove Noska from their weyr in search of companionship.

You seem a good deal less pleased than I would have expected, Noska remarked to Fes as she made her way furtively back to their weyr, hoping no one would see her with her hair in such a state of disarray. What happened?

Makhmilith, the green said in a tone Noska was pretty sure she’d never heard her use before. It was exasperated and fond and withering and fatuous all at once.

Yes? Noska prompted. Finally she reached their weyr. There was her comb, right beside her treasured and very costly brush. She reached for the comb first. The bristle brush was for smoothing and shining, not snarls.

I’m coming in, Fes warned, flumphing into the weyr and stalking to her preferred place with her tail twitching with strong emotion.

“What happened?” Noska asked as she returning to caring for her hair. The draft of air which always accompanied Feslengenth’s arrival had done her hair no favors, but she never complained about it. Fes could hardly help having wings that created drafts, and it was really very little trouble to comb her hair. Honestly, Noska found it soothing, and she could use a little soothing herself, though not as much as Fes, apparently.

He left! Fes fumed, her eyes whirling orange. I flew brilliantly, as you know, but he caught me well and truly, and things were...worthy of song, though not anything epic or requiring much instrumentation.

“I recall,” Noska agreed, with a smile for Fes’s use of music to describe her flight. It had been a joke between them when they talked about things that happened in each other’s absence: describing how the events ought to be memorialized. In fact she didn’t recall the details of Feslengenth’s actual flight all that well. She had initially been watching Fes fly, but she had become distracted from the dragon’s aerial grace by the sudden realization that all the people around her were not only very attractive, but intensely interested in her.

Right, well. He left. Through their bond Noska could feel what Fes couldn’t put into words: that her dragon felt rejected by Makhmilith’s abrupt departure after he had devoted so much energy to pursuing her.

“He’s an idiot,” she said with bared teeth “An inconsiderate idiot.”

Well, he’s not really. That is, he’s really clever. We’ve spoken before.

“So he can speak,” Noska sneered, working on teasing out an enormous snarl about a hand’s breadth from her skull. “Hardly enough to prove he’s intelligent, especially in light of this most recent evidence.”

No. I mean he really is smart. He has a way of thinking about things...we agree on a lot, actually. About the way the Weyr is organized and such. He thinks chromatics should have more representation in leadership roles, since we make up a larger percentage of the dragon population.

Noska agreed with the dragons on that point, even though in her candidate years she had been all about the shinies. Fes had forgiven her for that, blaming it on her upbringing rather than naming it a character flaw.

“Whether you’re of like minds or not, if he doesn’t appreciate how fortunate he was that you chose him for your maiden flight, I reserve the right to categorize him as a rascal and a rake.”

In the mirror Noska could see Fes settling more contentedly into her space in their weyr. Her bruised ego was mending, it seemed. It wasn’t as if Noska was bluffing about her indignation at Makhmilith’s treatment of her dragon. She couldn’t if she wanted to. Fes knew all her feelings, just as she knew the dragon’s.

“Do you want me to say something to his rider?” she asked.

No! Feslengenth exclaimed in horror. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. He disappointed me, and now I know better. For sure, he’ll not catch me again.

“Good! He’s not fit to polish your claws.” Noska resumed her brushing. At least having Fes’s drama to deal with was a distraction from the oddness of her flight aftermath.

I know you’re right, Fes said. She sounded wistful, though, as she went on, I just wish he hadn’t been such a disappointment. He’s so smart, and handsome. And have you heard his voice?

“I can’t say that I have,” Noska answered drily. “But I don’t think you’re best served by thinking about any of those things, either.”

The green dragon adjusted herself morosely on her ledge and muttered her disgruntlement. Right now, though, she was in the mood to sulk. It wouldn’t last. Her sulks never did. But even as she sulked she was already looking forward to going over her flight with her dragon friends.

How was it for you? she finally asked Noska.

“Oh...Really good,” Noska answered. She was being truthful, after all.

I’m glad. Fes was a little too wrapped up in her sulk to notice that Noska was more than a little amazed by matters, but that was all right. They’d catch up later.

Word Count: 1,358