Weyr Heights/ day after Hatching / 12:04 AM

[Jay Kitten]

Ahhhh, yes. Watch. It was a standard practice amongst not only Weyrs, but Holds as well, there was always a single dragon on guard in any human settlement on any given night, anywhere on Pern. It was a duty he was familiar with, and as such, the oldtimer had alighted his dragon upon the ledge, Regganith having already dozed off once more in a peaceful slumber.

The old man sat, wrinkled, squatting on the edge of the heights with his cane between his knees, balancing both hands and his chin on the top of it as he looked out across the grounds of the Weyr. The day of the Hatching had just come to an end, and he was poised to head back into his life of solitude and peaceful quiet. He loved his house out in the forests of Lemos. He couldn't have asked for a better life-partner either, as much as he did sleep. R'nos was easily amused in his old age, he found that all he need do to fight the boredom was listen in on Regganith's dreams.

They were always so silly, so blatantly pointless.

Chasing rabbits wasn't something he had ever seen a dragon do, until he had viewed Regganith's dreams. The huge Tiger hated them so much, he didn't know why. Rabbits were the bane of his existence.

The man chuckled, his rolling grey beard fluffing up with the hoarse sound. His voicebox felt dry and his laugh was very unused. With everything that had happened in his life, he rarely found a moment to let up and laugh, to stop that painful seriousness he always wore. But now it didn't matter. Now he was close to leaving Pern for good, close to heading between and never looking back. He looked up at the moon. The night was clear, and a waxing crescent hung in the sky.

Tonight was beautiful, and the Weyr was too.

[Moo]

He woke abruptly, his skin clammy from sweat. The night was unusually warm. He blinked and looked around, vision still blurred from sleep. The air was thick and difficult to breathe in. He paused for a few moments and tried to collect his bearings. He pushed himself up in bed and moved damp strands of hair out of his eyes. His brow furrowed in concentration.

“Where am I?” D’gan murmured.

Oh Mine, came a soft voice. We are in our new home, Rainbow Mists Weyr. Or have you forgotten that already?

“Rainbow Mists,” he said slowly, as if tasting the name. That's right. They had transferred as of yesterday. "Of course I haven't forgotten." With a yawn, he stretched upwards and his bones popped with a satisfying sound. Have you been up long?

For some time now. I cannot sleep, as you cannot. Come, the night is young. Join me tonight.

He needed no further encouragement; he would find no rest here. D’gan rose on ungainly legs, still a bit drowsy, and began to pick up the clothes he had shed in the night. However, he found very little, much to his surprise. Unable to find anything other than his pants, he pulled them on, laced up the front, and buttoned it for extra measure. His boots were still placed by the door, and he stepped into them before glancing outside. It was quiet and most were asleep; no one around would mind how he looked. Hopefully.

Here I am.

D’gan looked up and grinned at the Tiger’s sudden appearance. He mounted swiftly and gripped at him with the strong muscles in his legs, holding on to the closest neck ridge. It seems we are bareback tonight. Try and be careful.

In a few seconds, they found themselves perched on the Weyr Heights. Mosiliath exhaled and looked up at the clear sky, eyes whirling a slow blue as he contemplated how high he could fly. Movement to the left caught his attention, and he turned, ready to say something to D’gan. But it was not D’gan who he found.

It was an old man. An old man and his Tiger.

“You know, we could do worse for our first night,” D’gan announced, to his right.

But Mosiliath was not paying attention. He sat stiff with surprise. A massive Tiger. THE Tiger he saw at the Hatching. A curious feeling settled in his chest, as if something he were missing had just been found. But what had he been missing in the first place? He rose quickly and folded his wings, ignoring his Rider as he padded over to where the Tiger was sleeping. He settled down close by and transfixed, watched the large dragon slumber. He must know!

“Mosiliath, I—” Then D’gan noticed what had attracted his Tiger’s attention. He looked to the old man, who sat unfazed on the edge of the Heights. Whoever he was, Mosiliath had taken an immediate liking to him.

“Excuse me, Sir?” he said aloud, not wanting to startle the man. “Might we join your company tonight? ”

[Jay Kitten]

The old man had noticed the approach of the other Tiger pair, a fact he thought very interesting on a night like this. In a way, he felt it was destiny that had singled out this sleepless Tigerrider, and lead him to land his beast next to his own sleeping, worn out, tired warhero. He didn't wake the dragon yet, instead let him continue to doze even as the other approached, and ended up parking himself right next to Regganith. The curiosity in that one would have killed even the biggest of cats...

R'nos was no fool. He was sharp, quick-minded, even still in his old age. He knew that this pair was new to Rainbow Mists, they had come here instead of the lake or the beach when they couldn't sleep. This was no place for a restless Rider, not here. Then he spoke.

"You must be here with the sweetrolls," he said, without turning his head toward the other. "Just set them down right there, I'll get 'em..." His voice was hoarse with old age, but the hint of authority was still there. Cryptic old man? Now, maybe... But with every old book there is always a beginning and a middle before the end.

Regganith stirred on his own. The Tiger was a few hands larger than the other, younger one, and as he exhaled heavily when he woke, dust unsettled and rolled around D'gan's ankles, breezing up to Mosiliath's haunches.

One foot moved up, and as it hit the ledge, it rumbled the edge of the Heights. R'nos seemed completely unaware of the thunderous thump, and as Regganith stood higher, he stretched out his wings, flaring their mighty length. While he wasn't bigger than the largest Bronze, his wingspan rivaled that of a Gold's, and his massive tip-to-tip reach blocked most of the sky before them, until he folded them back.

Who... Who is this?[/color] the groggy dragon asked, his eyes immediately whirling up a cautious yellow.

Regganith was unique, even as a rare color. His stripes jumped along his hide when he moved, as though they were dozens of thick, black snakes. His old age had allowed his hide to become more loose, and this effect was a new one, however it still had effect. The most noticeably odd feature about the Tiger was the broad stripe that ran horizontal across his snout. Most Tiger's stripes stopped just before their eyes, however this single band of black seemed to have outdone the others. It gave him a rather regal appearance. His hide was light on the underside, but near the top of his back, and along his wings, the color was a pure, vibrant, vivid orange, with a shade of red somewhere in between. Scars criss-crossed his wing membranes, and his haunches, and a few found their way to his neck or forearms.

"He wishes to join us," R'nos stated to the Tiger, whom intrusively moved his head closer to D'gan, placing his nostrils right before his face, and taking in a deep breath, smelling the man.

Mmm... Yes, he does seem all right.[/color]

"You will have to forgive him," he said, raising his cane with one wobbly hand. "His old age has taken his sight!" He found this funny, for some reason, and began to cackle. He stopped short when a hacking cough came out of it. He beat his chest a few times, and cleared his throat.

"So does this mean you have no sweetrolls?"

He is a Tigerrider... No doubt a transfer. It would appear your lineage has spread far, R'nos mentioned in his head, and Regganith rumbled. A grandson of his own? Interesting. He had to wonder how exactly they were related. But he couldn't, for the life of him, remember. He only remembered his own parents, Zaurth and Kayleth. He wasn't sure where they were now.

"Come, come, sit, sit, sit..." He gestured next to him, and his eyes were glazed but wouldn't take no for an answer. His hair was a gritty silver, and played down his back in a fancy braid, which matched his rolling beard nicely. The beard was new, too. He hadn't had it before he passed his prime, though the braid had been there post-War. He wasn't a terribly ugly oldtimer, in fact it seemed aside from the wrinkles and dark spots, time had been nice to him. However, his eyes were baggy and wise, they had seen many sleepless nights.

[Moo]

Mosiliath backed up once the old Tiger woke, and his eyes spun green with unmitigated awe as the dragon was roused to action. He sat back on his haunches, his body quivering and tail squirming with delight. Some part of his rational brain told him that he was acting ridiculous, that he needed to show decorum, but in the presence of this archaic titan, he felt as if he had lost all ability to do so. Only when he heard the Tiger speak did he find his voice at last.

My name is Mosiliath, he said, and then continued to speak, the questions flowing as his mind raced with possibilities. Oh, I have so rarely seen my own kind among the dragons of the Weyr. Who are you? What is your name? Have you been at this Weyr for very long? I noticed you at the Hatching! Do you know what I think? I think you’re a tough, noble dragon, that’s how you’ve gotten those scars. They must be from a battle, right? That's what I think. Mine and I got ours from Thread, which is not nearly as impressive as yours.

Meanwhile, D’gan stood still as the large Tiger inhaled his scent. He took note of the dragon’s slinky, richly colored hide, of the multiple scars cutting into his wing membranes, and of his absolute enormity. All together, he was a magnificent and intimidating creature. A brief thought ran through D’gan’s mind as he glanced at the younger dragon to his left; could this be a glimpse into our future? He groaned to himself as he picked up on the stream of questions Mosiliath was spouting. Old age was a thing they might one day achieve, but manners were another thing entirely. So was breathing – he did not hear a single intake of breath from the younger Tiger during his barrage of questions.

D’gan was brought around by a sudden, hacking cough, and stepped closer to the oldtimer. He gave him a smile. “I am sorry, I had not thought to bring food with us.” At the man’s prompting, he took a seat next to him, suddenly quite intrigued by this Tigerrider. He took in his appearance and marveled at his age, and wondered, if so, just how many wars he had been a part of. “Thank you, sir. I am D’gan, rider of the unusually talkative Tiger, Mosiliath. I do apologize if we have interrupted your Watch. I was not expecting to meet another person at this time of night.” He adjusted his position and looked down at his bare chest, feeling slightly self-conscious. Normally, he had no problem running around without a shirt – he was athletic enough that he could show off if he so desired – but he did not want to give the oldtimer the wrong impression by sitting next to him, so barely dressed. D’gan looked out across the Weyr and breathed in, observing with some relief that it was cooler on the Heights.

“What name may I call you and your Tiger by, sir?”

[Jay Kitten]

It hadn't been often that Regganith had found himself the victim of so much attention, and his old, slow mind started to wander as this other Tiger spoke to him. He kept talking, and droning on, the old Tiger didn't want to answer any of the questions. He was pushed to the point of being irked enough to roar, and so he did.

All at once he pulled back his wings, and his jaws opened toward the other Tiger, before a massive bellow that would likely wake a few of the other Weyrfolk in the nearest section of rooms with ease, and perhaps those beyond. The sound shook the heights and rocked R'nos back and forth, though he didn't even react to the noise, so used to having heard it before that he didn't even seem to care. It was like a dozen lions all at once, but it would certainly shut the other Tiger up.

When he was finished, he quieted down, and answered no questions at all.

R'nos rubbed a finger in his ear and twirled it around. "That was some gust of wind," he said, and grinned an insane old man grin. "Well, now that you've finished clearing the wax out of our friends ears, I might be so inclined to answer a few of their questions." The Tiger yawned and lay himself back down. The motion he used to do so consisted simply of allowing himself to fall on his side, then twisting so his arms could hold his head as he closed his eyes and dozed once more. He cared not for the pandering of those from the Weyr, in fact, they were very little a part of this society any longer.

R'nos didn't seem to mind when D'gan sat, although he fell silent for a moment, allowing him to speak. His words seemed to bounce right off of the man, as he sat for an uncomfortably long period before he spoke again, though it didn't seem to be what D'gan was after yet.

"This Weyr has gone somewhere else," he said, his glazed, old eyes scanning across the sight from the heights once more, before they fell on the Bowl again. "I remember a day not so close to now... Turns ago, when I was but a boy. A Goldrider told me that I would always have a friend in her, and I watched her die. Right there." Though he spoke of a negative time in his life, he smiled. It seemed he had come to terms with Sakura's death long, long ago. "I was fifteen. A boy my age shouldn't have been subjected to something like that." He turned to look at D'gan now.

"That was the Weyr then. This is the Weyr now." He gestured outward toward all of the nighttime dragons perusing the air, to all of the sleeping Riders and their Bonded dragons slumbering peacefully. "It is a much calmer place," he added, and nodded slowly.

"But to answer your question... I am Ranos, or at least, I was, before Regganith called me R'nos." He motioned to the large Tiger now, pointing one crooked, wrinkled finger at his crooked, wrinkled dragon. And then he waved his hand in front of D'gan's face. "I don't Watch this Weyr anymore. Those days are done. Now, I would say, YOU are on Watch tonight." He cackled again, though it was once more cut off by a rough cough. He cleared his throat. "Many a time I found myself in your position. Sleepless, restless, on the heights with oldtimers or those who were in the same situation of insomnia." He shook his head. "You must adjust with this Weyr, or die in the process, D'gan, that much I am sure of." He stroked his beard. "I do not mean to be morbid, however, as you will find this task simple as long as you trust your Tiger." He nodded then to Mosiliath, glad he couldn't hear all the dragons of the Weyr, else he might be as bothered as Regganith had been. "He may be a talker, but he's still a Tiger, and Tigers are proud and fierce. I ought to know." He chuckled softly then, and gave a knowingly affectionate look to his big housecat.

"A piece of advice, lest you come across the same waters I once troubled when I was your age; don't take what you have for granted, and be sure to tell those close to you how much they mean to you. Always." With that he stood up, and moved to rest beside his Tiger, giving a groan of pain as his old age made sitting back down difficult. He rubbed his hip, and then sighed happily as he found comfort against the Tiger's soft hide.

"But, you did not come here to hear tales from days passed, did you? Do you have a question for someone like me? I do so enjoy questions."

[Moo]

An explosion of noise hit Mosiliath with such resonance he felt his teeth vibrate. Quickly pulling his head to his chest, he squinted his eyes shut and tensed as the old Tiger berated him with a startling roar. It was a deep, rumbling sound that rattled his very bones. He pressed himself to the ground, wings close, claws digging in for a purchase as the other dragon bellowed his disparagement. Mosiliath held on tight and maintained his balance, but his pride was another thing entirely.

A heavy silence hung in the air as soon as the Tiger ceased his objections, and the night swallowed up the sound as if it never existed. Mosiliath opened one eye to see that his elder was indeed finished, his eye a bright yellow slit against the plum-colored sky. With caution, he peered up at the Tiger but heard nothing more. A sharp pain twisted at his heart as he realized just how much of annoyance he had been. He sank to the ground and kept his head low, too embarrassed to look again, and decided that it was best if he just remained silent.

Even though he was a little hard of hearing, D’gan had no trouble understanding the large Tiger. He suppressed a snort of laughter as the old man gave him a wide grin, feeling slightly more at ease than his dragon. He could not help but feel a bit bad for the young Tiger, well aware that his behavior was, in a word, abnormal. However, he couldn’t deny the fact that it was his fault. He considered speaking to him, and reached for the Tiger’s mind, but retracted once he realized that Mosiliath was more than likely torturing himself enough for the both of them. With nothing more to do, he looked back to the old man, but was met with a long silence instead of answers. Right away, D’gan realized that it was a deliberate move, and there was nothing more he could say or do until the man decided it was the right time to speak. So, he pulled himself into a cross-legged position and quietly observed the constellations.

After a while, he heard the man’s voice slip into the silence. D’gan listened hard, mute, as the old man spoke of the Weyr, of his boyhood, and of the untimely death of a Goldrider. He usually enjoyed stories of the past, but now a strange disquiet settled in his chest. He frowned slightly, unsure of the meaning behind this tale, and looked to the man for some sort of guidance. He found that he, too, was being looked at. D’gan began to frame his question in his mind, but then the man spoke again, and he could do nothing but listen.

R’nos: that was his name – and his Tiger, the titan of the skies, was Regganith. He followed the old man’s gesture toward the sleeping dragon, but startled when he waved his hand in front of his face. Blinking, D’gan turned back to him. He chuckled once he heard R’nos’ comment about Watch – he should have guessed they were much too old for that sort of duty. The old man took up speaking once more, and this time, he made much more sense. Trust your Tiger, or you will surely die if you cannot adjust. He nodded in response. The oldtimer spoke honestly; D’gan himself knew from experience that if he did not trust Mosiliath with all of his heart, they would not be here now. He subconsciously moved his hand up to his right ear, and his fingers traced at the threadscore scar.

Then came his second piece of advice, and he harkened and took it to heart as he did the last one, before R’nos moved to prop himself against his Tiger.

"But, you did not come here to hear tales from days passed, did you? Do you have a question for someone like me? I do so enjoy questions."

D’gan sat for a period of time, lost in thought. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say to the man – there was a lot he could say. He considered his own past: the beginnings he had with Mosiliath, of his rapid ascension in Weyrling training and the slow decline of friends, and of the one thing he knew his dragon disagreed with him on. All of a sudden, he felt shy in front of R’nos. He became aware of himself once more. Here he sat, perched on the Weyr Heights in naught but riding boots and pants, listening to the advice of an old Tigerrider.

And all of a sudden, as if it fell from the sky and into his mind, he had his question. His old pride and stubborn determination made him pause and reconsider; what he was about to ask was something he rarely, if ever, seriously considered. With a quick glance to Mosiliath, who still had his head pulled back, D’gan turned back to the old man and spoke soft in the night.

“Do you have children, R’nos?”

[Jay Kitten]

The man had snuggled up with his Tiger nice and cozy, and was relaxing, looking up at the stars. He clutched his cane in both hands, and blinked slowly. Sometimes, he thought the moonlight might disappear again if he did that. Just like her dragon, eh? He chuckled to himself.

Then the question hit him. It went in one ear, made his face twist up oddly, and sat in his brain. That was unexpected. He frowned, remembering a time when he had thought about that subject long ago. But then he shook his head, kicking out the memory.

"No, I do not. I suppose there are reasons for that, though, and if Regganith would've found somebody appropriate, I'm sure I would have had children." He propped himself up more on his elbows so he could see D'gan again. "Y'see... Regganith got it in his head that he wasn't going to fly for just any female, only the one for him who's Rider was mine like she would be his, only then would he Fly..." He sighed.

"That never happened, and he went on to preserve his genes, as dragons eventually do... That Flight was amazing, but I was miles away from the other dragon's Rider. No... I had my fair share of relationships, but never any children. That's okay though. I have touched many lives in my time here, and I'm still alive to touch more." He nodded, satisfied with his answer. "Heheh... Though there were always ones I did wish I had been close enough to for children..." He started zoning again, only he was drooling after a few moments, then stopped himself and wiped his mouth.

"Eh... But enough about that."

R'nos didn't like to talk too long about things that sounded like they had a sad connotation. He decided on a question of his own.

"Do you have a family, D'gan?" His meaning was intentionally blurred. It was up to the Rider to decide what he meant by family, be it a weyrmate and children, or parents, or siblings, or even friends. He was curious to see how D'gan took it and answered it, a truly deep question in his mind.

[Moo]

He listened quietly, nodding when appropriate, but in truth he was lost in thoughts all of his own. There were parallels to his own life in R’nos’ story; they matched up only a few times, but it was enough to make him uncomfortable. He had never pictured himself as a father, but that did not mean…D’gan cleared his throat once the oldtimer had finished speaking and propositioned him with a question of his own. It had weight to it, the query. There were two ways he could go about answering, but…he knew what his mind had settled on first. He glanced to Mosiliath and noticed the Tiger had shifted to the point where his back was to him. Whether that was out of privacy, or if the Tiger was annoyed by the topic of conversation, he had chosen to remain silent regardless.

“I have a family, and yet…I do not. My mother, father, and younger brother all ride at Fort, though I must admit, I was never very close with them...least of all my father. I also consider those I flew with in my Wing part of my kin. However,” he said, “I do not have a family of my own.” He looked down at his hands. “I suppose it’s my fault, really. I’ve always felt that I’m not ready to be a father, I…I don’t know if I’d be able to. Live up to the expectations, I mean.” He could feel his pulse quicken.

He wondered how much he should tell R’nos. He did not know the man very well; they had only met that night, after all. D’gan yawned and covered his mouth, and breathed out slow. It was late, however. He was not certain when he would get the chance to speak about this again, and he knew that once he left here, he would try to forget he ever spoke about this. After years of being stubborn and avoiding the topic, it was a hard medicine to swallow once he did try to stop avoiding it. So he continued, unsure of where it might lead him, only knowing he felt like it was the right thing to do.

“I have had the chance to be a father, though. Quite a number of times, actually. The first was a GreenRider. I was young…so was she. We weren’t ready to be parents then. Mosiliath and I helped her between, but not long after, it happened twice more. She went between again, since it was so close to the last one. After that was over, she told me she wanted to keep the next one.” He sighed. “That’s when I became foolish as well as naïve. I stopped seeing her, afraid that she might become pregnant again. I didn’t want to be a father then, I felt I too young for it. For the responsibility. I didn’t want children, I just wanted…” He paused and chuckled. “I just wanted to go through the motions.”

“The next few times were with a MoonlightRider.” D’gan felt his lips curl into a small, secretive smile. Kyra. He would never forget her. Those nights spent in earnest at the lake, with only moonlight to guide them. The bite marks he woke to in the morning. Even the way she…He blinked, as if awakening from a dream, and remembered with a small start that he was speaking to an audience. He turned slightly pink from his thoughts, and quickly moved those memories to the back of his mind. He cleared his throat and continued to talk. “I made it clear to her that I did not want to have children, and she listened and did what was necessary, ever-obedient. I was older this time, but she was my younger. I think she just listened to me because she didn’t have the experience yet – to know what she wanted. In truth, neither did I. I told myself no, but I was never certain of what I desired. So, I started to refrain from seeing her...in fact, from seeing much of anyone. She followed me for a while, wondering where I had gone, but I thought it best if we stopped meeting.”

D’gan frowned slightly. “She was upset with me, the poor girl, though in time moved on. I focused more on my flying, focused more on learning from Mosiliath, and it was around that time when we attracted the attention of the Wingleader.” He looked to his Tiger, then back to R’nos. “We soon rose to the position of Wingsecond. After that, there was only one Flight that Mosiliath participated in – a Starlight’s Flight. It seemed only fair, with what I had done. He hadn’t Risen before, but in the event he did catch her, I had arranged a stand-in for her Rider. Mosiliath, as it happened, caught her, and the StarlightRider spent the night with one of my close friends. I was too concerned that I would get her with child, and I…couldn’t do that.”

D’gan paused and stretched his arms high, twisting his torso until he heard cracks. “To sum up the rest of the story, a few Turns later, I found myself finally transferring to Rainbow Mists Weyr, and here I sit.” He knew he was being vague on his reasons for not wanting children, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to say it openly, and to another person. He felt Mosiliath touch his mind with a bolster of acceptance; he knew what was on his mind. He still wasn’t ready yet. Maybe, in time, but not tonight.

[Jay Kitten]

R'nos listened in silence when the man started into a recap of his past, and he nodded gently ever so often, in understanding here or there, and in caring elsewhere. He found that D'gan seemed troubled indeed, and if a sleepless Rider wasn't fact of that, what he said was enough. But it didn't seem too bad, not yet, at least, he could stop his life from heading down a trail he didn't want to let it go. And that was important.

"You know..." He stroked his beard, as the man explained his family lived in Fort. "I am from Lemos myself. My parents..." He quieted for a second here, pausing before he spoke again, being careful with his words. "They lost their lives to Threadfall when I was eight. Both of them, in the same night." He sighed softly.

"My point is, D'gan, you might have many friends, but you only get one family. Make your time with them the best you can, because they won't always be around. I ought to know, I won't be around very much longer myself." He laughed cheerfully as he said that, it would seem laughing at death was the best way to get over the inevitable. D'gan continued then, though, and he kept listening as he started to speak of his lovelife and of children. He grinned knowingly when he spoke of women.

"I haven't had much of a chance to go there myself, but I have done such things. To share a night with somebody important means a whole lot. But understanding the complexities of human relationship is important as well; just because we feel one way doesn't mean that what our heart tells us to do is the best thing to do." He nodded a couple times, squinting his eyes as he thought about what he'd just said. Made sense to him. "Do not dwell on those you think you have hurt, as often times nobody knows how weak a shield is until it breaks, and gets fixed even stronger than before." R'nos was guilty of that himself.

"But you have plenty of life ahead of you to think about children. It isn't worth it to have a child with somebody you don't love, that only makes a bad life for the child itself. No, in fact, it should be a crime to do such a thing to a child; that's the way Pern is I'm afraid. But being a Wingsecond? Now there's something to be proud of." The man gave a cheerful grin and waved his small walking stick around his head for a second, before he let it rest again.

Regganith opened one eye, looking over to the other Tiger. Quit brooding. It's bad for your hide.[/b][/color] He snorted, and some dust rolled around his nose, before it floated away on the evening breeze. You are young, why are you not enjoying yourself? Go for a swim or something.[/color][/b]

[Moo]

D’gan was grateful for R’nos’ patience when he spoke. Quiet moments like these had been rare for him as of late. He could hardly remember the last time he had spoken with an oldtimer. His mind, he had not realized, had been restless as of late. And now he sat here with this old Tigerrider, as if he had known him for many Turns, speaking about a subject he hardly dared to share with himself. It broke all proper rules of decorum and rank, and yet…D’gan felt, unexplainably so, that this was much more than a simple conversation. How else could he have chanced upon this old Rider and his Tiger at such an hour as this?

He looked to R’nos and considered him with something akin to reverence. Mosiliath would not be here if it were not for Regganith, and D’gan felt that he would not have Impressed were it not for R’nos. In a way, he felt a connection with this man that he could not entirely explain. He stifled a yawn and looked away politely. Perhaps, he thought with the ghost of a smile, I should sleep less more often.

“I have passed through Lemos before…I am sorry about your loss, R’nos. I could not imagine losing my family at that age…Those must have been dark times. Thread will never be a welcome sight.”

He returned his mind to what the man had told him. He was not sure what to say about his family. He knew the oldtimer’s words were true, but there was little he could do now, so far from Fort already. He would soon have his duties here, once assigned them by the Weyrwoman or Weyrleader, and a new Wingsecond would be promoted at Fort within the next few days. Maybe his brother would rise to the occasion. He then thought of his father…D’gan nudged the notion away and kept to his silence. When the oldtimer made a comment on his own death, he could not help but feel a little sad, in spite of the man’s amusement at that fact. They had only just met, but there was much more that D’gan wanted to learn. He knew it was too soon to feel such emotions, yet nevertheless, there they were.

He tried to smile away the gloominess as the old Rider had. “It would be very much a pity if we were to lose you and Regganith,” he said in a voice almost a whisper. He was not even sure if he had spoken it aloud, or if it were all in his head.

Then R’nos began to speak about relationships…and children. His first reaction was to brush the subject off, as if it were no big deal. But it was just that – it was a big deal. It was almost as if he had a sort of epiphany, as he told this part of his life to the Tigerrider. He was concerned about it, more than he cared to admit to himself.

“R’nos, was it selfish of me to deny those women a child, if they wanted one and I did not?”

He considered what the oldtimer said next – that it wasn’t worth having a child with someone you didn’t love. That it would be a bad life for the child. D’gan understood that well enough – he did not want the child to grow up in a place where either one of his parents ignored him. He himself had always looked to his elders for guidance, much as he was doing now.

“I’m just…afraid that I would not be the best father I could be. I want to be better than what I have known,” he admitted. D’gan smiled, though, when he heard R’nos’ compliment about his position at Fort.

“Thank you, sir. Mosiliath and I had worked hard for it,” he said, and then added, “I am sorry about the direction of this whole conversation, R’nos – I am not normally this brooding or self-absorbed. I just think my Tiger and I are a bit flustered in your presence, and that would be enough to make us do the things we are seldom accustomed to. Please, feel free to change the subject or get rid of me as you wish. I do not wish to be a bore.”

Mosiliath turned around once he heard Regganith’s voice. It was the first time he had – he grew excited, but remembered to stop himself from overreacting. I suppose it never occurred to me… The small Tiger turned around and faced the larger of his kind. He took his own cue from his Rider. I am sorry as well, for my actions. I am not myself tonight.

[Jay Kitten]

"The fact of the matter is," he said to the other Rider, staring over his nose with one brow raised.

"You can do with your body what you wish of it, and to create another life without due preparation is damning that youth to a bad life themselves." He sat up, now, atop his dragon, whom had been actually awake for a short amount of time, now. He was a quiet waker. Regganith was a strange beast, especially now that he was older. He had a feeling that Regganith would die young because of him, if there weren't such a slaved relationship of dragon to Rider. But he loved his dragon, and never wished to see him die. But he never would, Regganith could never die before his rider. Tigers were too stubborn. And too loyal.

"You cannot rush something like childbirth," he said bluntly, and stroked at his beard once more, making a face as he thought deeply about the matter. "I used to stress over things like that like you did, until I met a man much like myself who tought me a lot about dealing with stress. A pity he's no longer around. His Iron was a stunning beast, and a fantastic Wingsecond." He sighed heavily. Age came with weights.

"But alas, I cannot be here all night. I am an old man, as you may well know, and I am tired. I will return home soon to rest my bones now that Regganith has had a bit of a rest from between. He never did like the place very much. Poor overgrown kitten. I still remember when he was just a wee dragonet, no bigger than a little blue..." His eyes lit up deeply and for a moment their affection was evident as Regganith's nose nudged his Rider's shoulder, and he let out a snort of defensive satisfaction. He had protected his Rider for his whole life so far, and R'nos was very old, even in dragon standards. He ran a wrinkled hand along the adult Tiger's cheek.

"Still so magnificent, isn't he? In his prime. It's sad he will have to come with me when I leave. But at least he will still have me. And perhaps even that moonlight he dated when he was young." He snickered to himself but it turned into a cough after a moment. He held his back to stabilize himself.

You are always yourself Young One, remember this. Your actions are your choice. You may choose to feel how you wish. He stood up as he spoke, and stretched out his massive wingspan. With a mighty yawn from Regganith, R'nos fell into his place between the great beast's wings.

"I trust you will be all right, then, D'gan, Mosiliath? You will think about where you wish to see yourself Turns from now?" He smiled, and nodded. He had a feeling they would be.