09.Feb.14, 01:50 PM
Wydrith worried for her rider, even as she questioned if she should. She had, after all, chosen Peorray for her strength. That being the case, did she have the right to object when her rider was merely showing that strength? After her initial display of grief, Peorray had pulled herself together and seemed resolved to push such feelings to the side until they went away, like she thought she ought to. Goldriders are supposed to take care of their people, Wydrith. She’d insisted, And I’m hardly the only one who lost someone. That wouldn’t be so bad if it hadn’t involved distancing them from those who loved them.
The gold missed Armath and his rider, but every time they tried to approach, Peorray had either politely ducked them or radiated such guilt/anger that Wydrith herself had asked them to go away. She knew the woman had trouble sleeping, and helped with the bad dreams when she was allowed to. Her rider wasn’t eating like she should, either, but the gold hesitated to push too much. Peorray had never, never pushed Wydrith away- but what if she nagged enough to make her do so? So the dragon hovered anxiously in the background, waiting for any chance to be helpful without being too intrusive.
It had been Wydrith who’d called Peorray’s attention to young Casa’s problem. Once aware of the young woman’s difficulties, she’d offered to help out immediately. Even with a hatchling, and completely healthy, a young dragon could be difficult to care for. The thought provoked memories of her own complication – an active toddler trying to ‘help’- and she swallowed hard as she brushed a few tears away.
Everything reminded her of Soren, it seemed, from the river (and, Sweet Faranth, would she be glad when they could move North) to her Weyrmate. It didn’t help that M’din, the sweet man, was just as emotional over the loss as she. And she was having trouble enough coping with her own feelings without adding his into the bargain, especially with so little time to reconnect as a couple before this fresh complication- resulting in awkward meetings dotted with flares of frustrated temper.
Peorray knew the failings there were mostly hers, knew Wydrith, even though she’d made sure to never give the gold cause, feared being pushed away too. So she made it up to the gold where she could and hoped time would take care of the rest. The nearly-grown gold stuck close as they went to meet the weyrling pair, easing herself down to a tucked-in perch outside the pools and laying her head on her forelegs. Wydrith low croon of greeting underscored Peorray’s more forthright one.
“Morning, Casa.” It didn’t feel right to wish the girl a good morning, since it clearly wasn’t. “Thallyath.” Because the dragon deserved notice too. “I wasn’t sure if supplies would be an issue,” If Casa could carry them, rather “so I brought some of Wydrith’s. Are there any special trouble spots today?” Likely there would be, Peorray thought, as the ran an eye over the gawky young gold. That had been one blessing in her own weyrlinghood- for all Wydrith’s other issues, she had always grown gracefully.
The gold missed Armath and his rider, but every time they tried to approach, Peorray had either politely ducked them or radiated such guilt/anger that Wydrith herself had asked them to go away. She knew the woman had trouble sleeping, and helped with the bad dreams when she was allowed to. Her rider wasn’t eating like she should, either, but the gold hesitated to push too much. Peorray had never, never pushed Wydrith away- but what if she nagged enough to make her do so? So the dragon hovered anxiously in the background, waiting for any chance to be helpful without being too intrusive.
It had been Wydrith who’d called Peorray’s attention to young Casa’s problem. Once aware of the young woman’s difficulties, she’d offered to help out immediately. Even with a hatchling, and completely healthy, a young dragon could be difficult to care for. The thought provoked memories of her own complication – an active toddler trying to ‘help’- and she swallowed hard as she brushed a few tears away.
Everything reminded her of Soren, it seemed, from the river (and, Sweet Faranth, would she be glad when they could move North) to her Weyrmate. It didn’t help that M’din, the sweet man, was just as emotional over the loss as she. And she was having trouble enough coping with her own feelings without adding his into the bargain, especially with so little time to reconnect as a couple before this fresh complication- resulting in awkward meetings dotted with flares of frustrated temper.
Peorray knew the failings there were mostly hers, knew Wydrith, even though she’d made sure to never give the gold cause, feared being pushed away too. So she made it up to the gold where she could and hoped time would take care of the rest. The nearly-grown gold stuck close as they went to meet the weyrling pair, easing herself down to a tucked-in perch outside the pools and laying her head on her forelegs. Wydrith low croon of greeting underscored Peorray’s more forthright one.
“Morning, Casa.” It didn’t feel right to wish the girl a good morning, since it clearly wasn’t. “Thallyath.” Because the dragon deserved notice too. “I wasn’t sure if supplies would be an issue,” If Casa could carry them, rather “so I brought some of Wydrith’s. Are there any special trouble spots today?” Likely there would be, Peorray thought, as the ran an eye over the gawky young gold. That had been one blessing in her own weyrlinghood- for all Wydrith’s other issues, she had always grown gracefully.