Bittersweet {Ghost/Open}

[Simile]

Raevin took another bite of the meat roll, looking at th stewming half next to her hand. It was a otter sweet taste. She loved it and hated it. It was black and white, but not at all gray. Everything tasted odd to h today. Perhaps because of her mood. She and Yanth had been training harder and harder. They had a ways to go, but they were working hard and she was please to not that she was one ode best in her class. She was certain her faith and grandfather would be proud. Her father was not as much of a concern to her, however, as was the story that was her grandfather. R'vin. Rayvin. She ws his namesake. There would always be one in the family. She'd be certain of it. One day. She heard the dignified snort of her dragon in her mind and gave a slight smile. He was always there. The driven, focused, abrasive and yet secretly well meaning dragon. She refused to grin like a fool, but she lived he big black and white lug.

He huffed. i am no lug, raevin, his tone brooked no argument. She felt her mouth twitch in a smile, but clamped down on it. Bittersweet. They has goals to obtain. Today they would prepare for the next step. But the slip ups from yesterday were unacceptable. She took a swig of the bitter halk and swallowed, keeping it on h pallet for a long moment, tasting it's bitterness. It always took her some time to drink it and finish the things that were truly bitter, but even if she didn't like it, she'd at it or drink it. Especially if thre was a real and true potential benefit to it.

not a lug! but xetainly a noble! abrasive! forceful dragon.. The dragon gave a bit of wuf.

we have much to so and much we will achieve. You will take us there. I will take you there. raevin shook her head slightly and took a bite of the meat roll in her hand. It was sweet compares to the drink she had.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

T’vax strolled into the dining hall. He grabbed a plate, balanced a decent amount of food on it, and set off towards the closest open spot, next to one of the Weyrlings from Lanikath’s final Hatching. The draconic voices provided a constant buzzing hum under the equal hum of human voices. He ignored both of them, though occasionally a comment would break through, most of which, taken out of context as they had to be, sounded pretty amusing.

He took a couple bites of food, seeming almost to inhale it. “I think Yanth disagrees with being called a lug,” he observed, glancing over at Raevin (provided the dragon was calling her by her right name) and smiling.