03.Nov.13, 10:53 AM
It was strange, to be so close to the fields again. S'cer had hoped that he would have time to continue his research with grain production, but Quelseth had turned everything upside down. He didn't resent her, because it was impossible to resent her--she loved him unconditionally, every part of him, even if sometimes he felt like he wasn't worthy of her. He was happier with her around, even if there was still a deep-seated resentment for dragon riders that he doubted he would ever shake, but she made the bad days bearable.
Do you want to try it again? Isscer shot her a look, running careful fingers over the riding harness. They were supposed to practice gliding as much as possible, and the rain wasn't enough of an excuse to get out of it. Are the straps fitting fine? I don't want them rubbing...
Quelseth twisted her head to peer down at him, eyes whirling merrily as she laughed, soft and musical. It brought a grin to S'cer's face, the flush showing easily on pale skin before he reached to tug his flight goggles back down.I thought I was supposed to be the mothering one.
S'cer rolled his eyes as he fitted his foot into the toe loops and swung himself up into place. You are. Clipping in to the straps properly, he tested the connection before patting her gently on the neck. One more time and we'll head back.
Quelseth spread her wings and no matter how many times they had practiced, S'cer still found his stomach lurching as she approached the slope of the crest. He enjoyed flying simply because he felt closest to Quelseth at that point--together in spirit and mind, savoring the moment.
The rain is very beautiful, even if it makes everything a mess.
The familiar dreamy intonation was apparent; Quelseth was daydreaming, and S'cer smiled indulgently as they drew closer to land. It is. Sometimes if the sun hit it, it sparkles. Landing wasn't quite smooth, and the jarring force of it caused S'cer to rock back into the straps hard, stealing his breath away. He coughed, unclipping himself so he could slide down and he could walk back toward their hut--an abandoned one on the very eastern outskirts of the huts.
That was-- A yelp slipped free from S'cer as he slipped on the mud underfoot, falling flat on his back. "Sharding rain," he hollered, slapping one gloved palm against the ground, catching his breath yet again as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.
Perhaps you should go see about a bath on your way back.
It was as amused as it was mothering, and S'cer shot the green a dark look. "If I wouldn't have to clean it off later, don't think that I wouldn't throw a glob of this at you." She laughed again, bright and merry, and took to the sky.
Don't be too late, S'cer. She circled overhead once before heading in the direction of their hut and her hollow, which he'd covered over with a lean-to. He didn't want her catching sick at every opportunity, and tried to prevent it as much as he could.
S'cer slid the flight goggles up with muddy hands, sighing, and seriously considered just laying there and letting the drizzling rain clean him up. The wet squelch of mud as he shifted made him scowl; he had just oiled the leathers down, and now he would have to wash them and do it all over again.
Do you want to try it again? Isscer shot her a look, running careful fingers over the riding harness. They were supposed to practice gliding as much as possible, and the rain wasn't enough of an excuse to get out of it. Are the straps fitting fine? I don't want them rubbing...
Quelseth twisted her head to peer down at him, eyes whirling merrily as she laughed, soft and musical. It brought a grin to S'cer's face, the flush showing easily on pale skin before he reached to tug his flight goggles back down.
S'cer rolled his eyes as he fitted his foot into the toe loops and swung himself up into place. You are. Clipping in to the straps properly, he tested the connection before patting her gently on the neck. One more time and we'll head back.
Quelseth spread her wings and no matter how many times they had practiced, S'cer still found his stomach lurching as she approached the slope of the crest. He enjoyed flying simply because he felt closest to Quelseth at that point--together in spirit and mind, savoring the moment.
The familiar dreamy intonation was apparent; Quelseth was daydreaming, and S'cer smiled indulgently as they drew closer to land. It is. Sometimes if the sun hit it, it sparkles. Landing wasn't quite smooth, and the jarring force of it caused S'cer to rock back into the straps hard, stealing his breath away. He coughed, unclipping himself so he could slide down and he could walk back toward their hut--an abandoned one on the very eastern outskirts of the huts.
That was-- A yelp slipped free from S'cer as he slipped on the mud underfoot, falling flat on his back. "Sharding rain," he hollered, slapping one gloved palm against the ground, catching his breath yet again as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.
It was as amused as it was mothering, and S'cer shot the green a dark look. "If I wouldn't have to clean it off later, don't think that I wouldn't throw a glob of this at you." She laughed again, bright and merry, and took to the sky.
S'cer slid the flight goggles up with muddy hands, sighing, and seriously considered just laying there and letting the drizzling rain clean him up. The wet squelch of mud as he shifted made him scowl; he had just oiled the leathers down, and now he would have to wash them and do it all over again.