[G] [P] [EVENT] 738.12.20 | A Bottle of Erin er Wine

Kadaisicalth’s is on his way up, Rhezalth announced, rousing from his lazy dozing; it was too early for the dragon to consider sleeping, but late enough that it was dark and cold and sleep sounded appealing. N’mor raised a brow from where he was sprawled diagonally on his bed, leaning against his stump as he flicked his chin with the end of his quill, drawing absently. He wasn’t as good as he used to be, having to re-teach himself since losing his dominant arm, but he was improving. “Is that so?” N’mor asked mildly, amused. Rhezalth was quite friendly when it came to T’ryn and Syrendryth – but that came from the bronze pair’s close relationship growing up, and the assistance T’ryn had given when N’mor had been injured. Beyond that, Rhezalth was a lot like a giant, silent, judgemental bastard. N’mor loved him.

Told you so, the bronze dragon said tartly as R’dare let himself into the weyr. N’mor sighed dramatically, but a smile curled the corner of his lips as he readjusted to be sitting up, watching his friend enter, his eyebrow arching when R’dare’s expression was noted. The woman that came floating in with a tray caused N’mor’s expression to flatten, and he gave R’dare a dry look. Damndable blueriders; even his friend was quickly falling into the disgusting requirements that seemed to come with a stupid blue hide. N’mor eyed the young woman. “You can put the tray over there,” and he indicated the table with a couple of chairs off to one side. Rising off the bed, the bronzerider swayed silkily over to Erinea, looped around her, and then picked up a slice of bread and cheese. Turning to look at R’dare, N’mor took a bite and waited.