The Morning After (D'gan)

[Cait]

3074.08.01
Late Morning | Sunny and Warm
Near the Weyrling Barracks

The remainder of the Hatching had been a blur, so intent upon her own Impression was Rekkora. And why shouldn’t she be? She was the first person to Impress to an Abyss since before the Weyr Wars! Of course the second that the Abyss had stopped in front of her on the Sands, her choice made; from that point on Rekkora had found the one being in her life that she cared about more than herself. It wasn’t as though she didn’t care about others but as of yet in her life; she had yet to find anything that could trump her self-centered tendencies. All of that had changed in a matter of seconds.

It was still impossible to entirely fathom the way she felt about the addition to her life. Yes, she had be confident that she was destined for something great, but now that it had happened Rekkora was a little apprehensive. She’d been convinced that she would Impress a Gold or a Silver perhaps, nothing had prepared her for the arrival of an Abyss. The day before, she’d been so thrilled to Impress and tangled up in her own elation that Rekkora hadn’t though about the implications of her new lifemate’s coloring in earnest. At least not in regards to how it would affect her.

While she, like everyone else on Pern, knew of the Weyr Wars and the role that the last Abyss had played in them, Rekkora hadn’t considered that that particular stigma would carry over to her precious Sunvoiath. In fact she’d been quite oblivious for the first time in a long time; so giddy and smug. It had come as a surprise that morning when she’d entered the dining hall for breakfast and as she walked along the tables, hushed whispers fell silent as she neared and people watched her then sprung to life again after she’d passed. More than once she heard words like Abyss, Valorith and even Renika. Unwilling to cause a scene or wake Sunvoiath with her annoyance, she had lifted her chin, chosen a spot amongst some of her minions friends, and eaten her meal in her usual fashion, chatting and flirting with the boys around her and assuring them that her little Queen was well fed and sleeping.

She hadn’t felt the Abyss stir, but when Rekkora had returned to her room in the barracks, Sunvoiath was sitting there, neck arched and waiting. Pausing inside the door, Rekkora lifted a brow and were she capable, the woman was almost certain that the young Queen would have mimicked the expression. “Did you need something, love? I already fed you this morning; does your hide itch?”

Something is upsetting you; you are...annoyed? Perhaps…angry? No, not angry. You are not happy.[/b] The tip of Sunvoiath’s tail twitched in vauge annoyance at her inability to find the proper word, a flash orange rippling through her yellow-green eyes as she stood, wings unfurling slightly and exposing the concentrated patch of gold on her right wing near where it bent. It was the largest tangled patch of gold on the young Queen and quite beautiful in a raw, almost savage sort of way.

“Nothing to worry about; just gossips. We will prove ourselves in time, love.” There wasn’t an ounce of doubt in the young woman’s voice as she crossed the gap between herself and her dragon and reached out, sliding her fingers over the soft, dark hide on the Queen’s jaw. She truly was beautiful. And the moment Rekkora thought it, a flash of blue rippled through the dragon’s eyes. Smirking, Rekkora rubbed the golden-streaked nose of her lifemate then moved to a nearby shelf to gather up the oil pot and brush kept there along with bathing and grooming supplies for both dragon and human alike. “Come, Sunvoiath, the sun will be at its peak soon and I rather feel like flaunting your beauty.”

The Abyss made a small sound that might one day grow into a rumble, clearly amused by her rider’s lack of shame. At the very least the day-old Queen had gleaned from the girl’s mind that the suspicion of others in regards to Sunvoiath annoyed her. But rather than keep out of sight to avoid the gossips, Rekkora chose to strut about in the open and all but challenge the ones who whispered of doom and gloom. Yes, she had chosen well. Pushing to her feet, the young dragon stretched languidly, her wings unfurling completely before she tucked them against her back once more and stalked out of the chamber ahead of her rider though once they were both in the corridor they walked side by side.

Together they emerged into the late morning, far warmer than Rekkora was used to given that it was technically winter on the Southern Continent. Back North she would have been bundled and would have avoided emerging from the tunnels and corridors at all cost unless it was a glorious day. In the late morning sun, Sunvoiath’s golden streaks sparkled with the luster of any gold while the rest of her, though the darkest black, seemed to possess a similar luster.

As one, they moved toward fairly large flat rock that looked as though it might once have been a ledge that had fallen into the weyrbowl though it hardly seemed large enough to hold even a white dragon. It was, however, the perfect size for a day-old Queen to climb up onto and strike a rather majestic and watchful pose. Smiling at the sight of Sunvoiath in the sunlight, Rekkora paused for a moment to admire the Abyss. It was still a little hard to believe with barely a day having passed that she was no longer a Candidate but a Weyrling…to a Queen and one that would grow to be powerful and glorious; there was no doubt in her mind of that.

Why do you always stare at me so? It is all well and good that others stare in wonder, but you should not look so awed. My left wing itches.[/b] The first part was an observation made in a bemused tone, voice once more like silk rippling in a faint breeze. Rekkora doubted she would ever get tired of that voice, so cool and smooth against her mind. The last, however, was quite clearly an order; the tone abruptly gaining the harsh resonance of polished steel clashing. Shaking her head she moved around the low stone and uncorked the jar and dipping the brush into the oil, she stepped forward and began to apply it as directed to the places that itched the worst first.

[Moo]

Mosiliath’s jaw cracked as he loosed a long, loud yawn, his wings stirring up air as he landed outside of the Hatching Sands and barracks. The sun was bright, the skies clear, and he and D’gan had been flying high in the chill, morning air – as was their usual morning routine. And, as per usual, now it was time for D’gan to make a quick stop to the kitchens in search of klah.

It was a habit D’gan had picked up early on in Fort, and it was completely useless to try and convince him that he didn’t need it. Not that Mosiliath minded much; the extra time gave him a chance to rest his scarred wing before they took to the skies again. If there was one thing his Rider was, it was thorough, and he was sure they would spend the remainder of the good morning practicing maneuvers and drills.

Eyes swirling a placid blue, Mosiliath folded his wings against his sides and bent low, allowing his Rider ample room to jump off. Once he had touched ground, the Tiger stretched languidly and curled up where he had landed, more than content to wait for his Rider to return. A low rumble rose from his chest as he arched his neck and yawned again. He was tired. D’gan seemed to wake up more after he had klah. Maybe he would be in a sharing mood.They had been up since before the dawn – they had been up later than usual, as a matter of fact, discussing all that had occurred at the Hatching yesterday.

They both knew it was a hot topic in the Weyr, and as Wingleaders, a diplomatic response was only polite if asked for an opinion. To be caught without a well-formed opinion in conversation was not something they wanted to deal with, so for most of the night they took turns sharing ideas.

Unfortunately, they spoke in circles all night and wound up no closer to a solid response than they had the day before.

With an uncomfortable sigh, Mosiliath extended his right wing and tried to stretch the crumpled scar tissue out. His muscles were already warm from the flight, so it did not hurt as much as it could have been, but the scar still ached from the cold bite of thread. How many turns had it been since that day? He had lost count.

Glancing around at his surroundings, making sure he was not bumping his wing into anyone, Mosiliath froze once he realized just who he was sitting near. Perched on a small, rocky outcropping was the young Abyss – and next to her was her Rider, dutifully oiling the small queen.

He regarded the pair with a turquoise-colored stare. Oh, D’gan wouldn’t believe their luck.

Good day to you, little queen. How are you finding the morning?

[Cait]

A silent mental prod alerted Rekkora to the presence of another dragon though, as she glanced up from her task she discovered that it was not just any dragon that had settled in the alcove formed by the curve of the Hatching Sands wall, the barracks wall and the main pathway. An amused chuckle brushed against the young woman’s mind as the blonde stared with a mixture of appreciation and speculation at the Tiger and his rider as the later disembarked for the kitchens and the former yawned. Compared to the day-old Queen who was stretched out before her, the Tiger was huge and Rekkora couldn’t help but wonder if Sunvoiath would get that large.

Pausing in her tasks to watch the large Tiger, Rekkora frowned slightly at the sight of scarred flesh when the dragon unfurled his wing in the morning sunlight. She wasn’t even sure if she’d been alive when the Red Star had passed and the Interval started, but she’d seen the marks it had left on dragons and riders alike. Angry, wicked looking scars. Her father had told her stories when she would help him in the Infirmary and while she did feel bad about the havoc Thread had unleashed, she’d been more upset by the ruination of beautiful dragonhide than anything else. It seemed a waste to have such striking markings disrupted by such a disfigurement.

Sunvoiath shifted her wings, the tip of one grazing her mate’s arm to draw her attention back to where it rightfully belonged. Rekkora turned to look at the young Abyss, her brow raised and Sunvoiath gave the impression of returning the same look, her eyes swirling a lazy green with hints and glimpses of yellow intermingled. After several seconds, Rekkora resumed her appointed task though she glanced surreptitiously towards the Tiger. She’d seen Mosiliath—for that was his name, she was certain—around, of course, during her several months stay at Rainbow Mists but she’d not had the chance to single out the King’s rider. Apparently D’gan was a Wingleader and as such was busy.

From what she’d heard, he was an older man; perhaps the age of her father. A bit old but that didn’t entirely rule him out as being useful, especially since he seemed not to have a Weyrmate. Of course she’d reserve her final say on how useful he might be until she’d actually met him in person but at the very least he was a Kingrider and it was always good to endear yourself to those of power within the Weyr. With any luck, the rest of the Weyr would realize that and start changing their tune in regards to Sunvoiath and Rekkora, otherwise the young blonde from the far North might start getting a little snippy.

Rekkora, did you not just say that we will show them our greatness; to give it time? Come, greet the handsome Tiger.[/color] Sunvoiath arched her neck prettily for Mosiliath, her tail tip flicking behind her as she let out a soft, almost—and Rekkora found this rather odd—demure croon.

“Are you…flirting?” Rekkora whispered, eyeing the Abyss suspiciously. Again the soft as silk chuckle brushed against her mind and Rekkora rolled her eyes.

It works for you, does it not? Why should it not work for me as well?[/color][/color] Sunvoiath cast a sidelong glance at Rekkora. Even though it had been just a day, the young queen had gleaned much from the woman’s mind about how to behave around males to draw them in. How to react and respond to keep them close and though she was still so very young, she found the notion of drawing such a large and striking Tiger to her very appealing. Her siblings were easy enough to deal with but if she was going to be as grand as both she and Rekkora desired, she’d have to start somewhere…she’d have to test the water so to speak.

I find the morning clear and warm. I gather that is not the norm for such a time as this? Rekkora forever complains about something called rain. From her moaning, I confess I do not look forward to experiencing it.[/b] Shifting her wing she glanced over her shoulder at Rekkora who had stopped applying oil once more and made a soft sound in the back of her throat to grab the girl’s attention. You missed a spot near my shoulder.[/b]

“Oh hush, you.” Rekkora muttered as she dipped the brush in the oil pot once more and went back to work. She could only imagine how obnoxious it would be to oil the young queen as she grew larger. Almost instantly her mind began to flip through her acquaintances, seeking out the ones that would be easy to manipulate into helping her with that chore down the road. It would certainly be a good idea to have help as Rekkora wasn’t overly keen on doing it all herself. Surely there were people who were supposed to cater to the whims of a Queen and her rider, yes? Sunvoiath made a sound that would one day transform into a rumble but for the time being could only be classified as adorable then turned her attention back to Mosiliath.

My rider gives her regards to you and yours.[/b] Plucking the phrase from Rekkora’s head was simple enough; the girl had a superb grasp on manners and knew exactly when to use them to butter up the right people. Yes, they both had much to learn but every time the Abyss delved into the woman’s mind it only reaffirmed her decision. She would learn from Rekkora what she could and then the two of them would rise above the gossips and doomsayers, grand and glorious. However, for now Sunvoiath was more concerned with itchy hide and the faint feeling of hunger that was beginning in her gut.

[Moo]

Mosiliath waited patiently for her to acknowledge him, his gaze shifting smoothly from the small queen to her rider. He stared back as politely as possible, as interested in them as perhaps they were in him. It was an encouraging thought, and one he shared with his rider just as soon as it popped into his head.

So you’re saying you stopped right next to them and started a conversation? Is this a sign that thread’s back?

Resisting the urge to snort derisively – it would look out of context for anyone not listening to their conversation – Mosiliath deferred on answering his rider. About that time, he noticed the young weyrling girl staring at his wing. Ah. He had almost forgotten these scars were few and far between these days. Most days he wore it like a badge of courage; you needed courage in those days. It was nothing to be ashamed of. But for reasons unknown even to himself, feeling self-conscious this morning, he carefully tucked his wing back against his side where it looked as if there was nothing wrong with it. Better.

He had thought the Abyss was merely waiting to reply, if she was to reply at all – though when she stretched out and crooned, his eyes went wide and swirled through varying shades of greens. Was she…No, she wasn’t.

Was she?

He tilted his head and took in the delicate arch of her neck, the sound of her soft croon. Oh, yes, she was most certainly trying to attract much more than his attention – that he was certain of. His characteristic, deep rumble sounded in his chest as a draconic version of a chuckle. It was flattering that she should practice her charms on him, though she was still so young. Her tenacity would be a force to be reckoned with when she grew larger, turned older.

Wait, what have I missed? I’ll be there in a moment, don’t move.

Mosiliath blinked in surprise at the sudden, feminine voice he heard. So, that was what she sounded like. It was hard to describe it, really. Her words were soft, polished, but beneath them was a heart of cold steel. Even young, she spoke with the authority of an older Queen, and as such, he decided to treat her like so. Or as much as he could – she was still young, and had much to learn. Perhaps she would not be averse to learning from him.

It is not quite so bad as you might think. The rain is a part of how life goes. Without it, you would not enjoy the sunny days as much. But no, you are correct. This is not normally how things work around here.

He took in a great breath of air before sighing. There are usually more rain and storms. Perhaps one tomorrow, if you’re lucky, he added, a teasing edge to his voice.

When Rekkora started to oil her young queen once more, Mosiliath took the brief moment to examine the Abyss’ hide at a closer distance. It was, he had to admit, a striking display of colors. Bright, shocking veins of gold coursed over her small frame, and the black remaining only complimented it more. She would be perfect among dark clouds and fierce thunderstorms.

I appreciate you and your rider saying so. My rider and I…

It was around that moment that he sensed D’gan had returned. Turning his head to his side, Mosiliath peered down at his rider, dressed in his usual riding leathers, sipping a mug of that spicy-sweet drink in one hand as his other hand ran through his hair. With a tilt of his head, the Tiger motioned for him to take a step closer to the weyrling and her dragon, before he looked back to the pair beside him.

My rider and I have been meaning to meet you both, Mosiliath finished.

At the prompting of his dragon, D’gan resisted rolling his eyes, instead moving forward to stand near the preoccupied Abyss and her rider. This was certainly an unexpected twist to their morning.

“I hope he hasn’t been a bother while I was away,” he started, a warm smile masking most of the tiredness on his face. He lowered his mug of klah to his side and continued. “My name is D’gan, and my Tiger’s name is Mosiliath. What are yours, if I may ask?”

Good manners were key. He already knew the girl’s name – it was Rekkora Castor – but he figured it was better to go through introductions, since they hadn’t the chance to properly meet before. Not to mention, the little Abyss was still a queen, no matter if a day or twenty turns old, and it was always best to err on the side of politeness.

[Cait]

Nonsense! I doubt I would enjoy the sun any less in the absence of the rain.[/b] It came out as both a snippy retort and a hiss, the young Queen not possessing the proper self control just yet to keep her opinions to herself. In time she would learn the arts of diplomacy and manipulation but for the time being, she flicked her tail in annoyance. What sort of silly beast was this Tiger that he spoke in nonsensical riddles? Storms and rain…together? Her upper lip curled at the thought of having to put up with such a thing. Yellow slowly began to overtake green and blue in the young Abyss’ eyes.

Sensing the growing frustration at not understanding and Sunvoiath’s annoyance in general, Rekkora cleared her throat and tapped the young Queen on the side of the neck with the oil brush, a single brow arched. Take a deep breath, love. Even the strongest dragon and rider would not have control over the rain or the sun.

The Abyss fell into silence for a single minute before she too drew in a deep breath, her gold-streaked sides expanding before she let the air out on a sigh that very nearly mirrored Mosiliath’s. Blinking slowly, multiple lids lowering over swirling eyes, when she turned her head back to the Tiger, almost all traces of yellow had vanished leaving her eyes a shifting display of content greens. When she realized that she was being examined, Sunvoiath stretched once more, disrupting the oiling process yet again as she angled her wings so that the largest tangle of gold could be easily viewed at the “elbow joint” of her wing. He was right to be in awe of her. She’d learned from Rekkora the real reason why people stared at them—the other Abyss—but she rather liked to think that stared at her because she was so…pretty? No not quite right…well she was pretty but there was another word…

Stunning, love.

Yes…stunning sounds about right I think. Oh, Mosiliath says that he and his rider have been meaning to meet us both. You should greet his rider, he comes. Do not stop oiling![/b] The last was snapped with the hard edge of a command when Rekkora would have set aside the brush in order to greet the dragonrider who was approaching in the proper manner. Pursing her lips, Rekkora was tempted to rebel against the command but the task did need to be completed. Dunking the brush back in the oil, she let it sit there for a moment as she bobbed a quick curtsy to the Tigerrider and Wingleader. Just as he knew her name, she knew his. She knew the names of all the ranking male riders whether or not she’d actually met them.

“Oh, no worries, Wingleader. Sunvoiath rather enjoys the attention of such a handsome fellow.” Rekkora flashed her most winsome smile as her eyes took in the appearance of the man standing not far from her. He was older, perhaps the age of her parents and fit as a dragonrider aught to be. He was handsome enough if a bit old for her tastes but that was neither here nor there in the grand scheme of things as she suddenly realized that some day—and no one really seemed to know when—in the future, he would be one of the men in the room when Sunvoiath rose. With that in mind she looked him over with a bit less discretion and came to the same conclusion; it could be worse.

“It is very nice to meet you both. I am Rekkora and this is Sunvoiath.”

The Abyss once again arched her neck and made that silly crooning noise even as Rekkora retrieved the brush from the pot and shifted to the other side of the rock to begin working on the Queen’s right side. “I hope you don’t think me rude to continue my task while we converse—you did wish to converse, did you not?” She blinked rapidly—also known as batting of lashes—and made an effort to look the tiniest bit eager for conversation. “If you are busy we understand.”

They will stay if I tell them to.[/color]

You will do no such thing!

And why not?[/b]

Because there is no need; a sweet smile and a few bats of the lashes gets a lot more done than orders.

Sunvoiath was silent and Rekkora got the distinct impression that the Abyss didn’t believe one word of that. Though, perhaps it was different for dragons. Perhaps their rational minds responded better to orders than flattery and flirtation?

[Moo]

Mosiliath purred at the colorful outburst and waited for the little Queen to settle down, one set of lids sliding over green, faceted eyes. She may yet grow into a fine Queen – certainly one of the most well known by her color alone – but until then, she was still a newly-shelled hatchling.

Control of one’s emotions could not be expected at this age.

He dipped his head to his chest and rested as D’gan traced absently over one of the smaller stripes his hide carried, and a sense of satisfaction flickered in his mind. As Sunvoiath motioned with her wings, one of his lids drew back as his eyes moved, once again, to the posturing weyrling and the crackle of gold along her black hide. Very pretty.

He imagined her Flight would be one to remember.

D’gan smiled back to Rekkora when she curtsied, a formality he hadn’t witnessed in a while. He could feel Mosiliath puff up with slight pride at her compliment, and forced himself to keep from laughing. Kings, they were all the same.

He stood still as her eyes wandered over his face, his body. Turns and turns of being a king-rider afforded him the knowledge as to why she was staring. As she was now a Queen-rider, she now had to determine whether or not a rider was suitable for her little dragon.

He could hardly blame her for her scrutiny, though he wanted to tell her that he didn’t care much for Flights nowadays – especially now that he had a child on the way. One was proving to be as stressful as unaccounted-for Thread, and it hadn’t even been born yet!

Yes, he was quite sure there would be no Flights for Mosiliath for a good while.

D’gan nodded in their respective directions. “Nice to meet you as well, Rekkora, Sunvoiath. Please, work on,” he allowed, his smile smaller but no less polite. “I remember what it was like to be a weyrling. I did have it in mind to talk, but only if you don’t mind the disruption. Are you finding everything okay?”