16.Jun.18, 12:19 PM
N’mor stood quietly, pressed against R’nd and trying to unwind and relax as he listed to the words his father’s mate spoke. Really, he knew R’nd was right, he did, but he couldn’t bring himself to find the courage to do as he suggested. Everything was so raw and pained and was a mess and N’mor had never felt less like himself than he did, clinging to a bluerider and finding his strength after crying far, far too much.
“I know,” he said softly, in response to R’nd’s stating he loved B’jin, and N’mor looked up at him quietly, eyebrows furrowed again, but he didn’t know what to say to him. He opened his mouth, trying to find the right words, and puffed out an irritated sigh that was interrupted by his father entering the weyr, guitar in hand and a cheerful smile on his lips. N’mor paused, blinking from where he was still hugging R’nd. He saw B’jin’s eyebrows lift up in mild surprise.
“Making a move on my lover?” The greenrider quipped, watching their reactions before bursting into laughter. N’mor’s nose scrunched up and he stepped back from R’nd, giving his father a disgusted look before B’jin seemed to notice his tear streaked features and his amusement died away. From the way his features twisted and he glared off to the side, he was berating Larrikith for not passing along word as he set his guitar gently in its place.
What? R’nd had it covered. You’re here now. Relax. The dragon bespoke everyone in the room, but both N’mor and B’jin ignored her; the man opening his arms and N’mor throwing himself at his father, clinging to him, though he didn’t cry.
B’jin manoeuvred them onto the couch and let N’mor drape himself across his father’s lap, like he had when he was six. B’jin held the teen, singing softly under his breath as he rocked N’mor, watching his son give in to the sleep he’d been denied that night. Once he was out cold, B’jin stood up, carrying N’mor’s dead weight so he could settle him on the couch in silence. He took the blanket from the back of it and draped it over N’mor before taking R’nd’s hand and ushering him into the bedroom so his mate could tell him what little he had gleaned of whatever had happened to N’mor.
“I know,” he said softly, in response to R’nd’s stating he loved B’jin, and N’mor looked up at him quietly, eyebrows furrowed again, but he didn’t know what to say to him. He opened his mouth, trying to find the right words, and puffed out an irritated sigh that was interrupted by his father entering the weyr, guitar in hand and a cheerful smile on his lips. N’mor paused, blinking from where he was still hugging R’nd. He saw B’jin’s eyebrows lift up in mild surprise.
“Making a move on my lover?” The greenrider quipped, watching their reactions before bursting into laughter. N’mor’s nose scrunched up and he stepped back from R’nd, giving his father a disgusted look before B’jin seemed to notice his tear streaked features and his amusement died away. From the way his features twisted and he glared off to the side, he was berating Larrikith for not passing along word as he set his guitar gently in its place.
B’jin manoeuvred them onto the couch and let N’mor drape himself across his father’s lap, like he had when he was six. B’jin held the teen, singing softly under his breath as he rocked N’mor, watching his son give in to the sleep he’d been denied that night. Once he was out cold, B’jin stood up, carrying N’mor’s dead weight so he could settle him on the couch in silence. He took the blanket from the back of it and draped it over N’mor before taking R’nd’s hand and ushering him into the bedroom so his mate could tell him what little he had gleaned of whatever had happened to N’mor.