19.Oct.18, 01:49 PM
Well, look at that, the Weyrleader was apologizing. F’drel didn’t entirely believe the apology was entirely sincere, but he was getting one. He internally rolled his eyes at the comment about knowing how Lords could be. Did he ever. But M’ris was a Weyrleader, that put him at roughly the same status as a Lord, he could handle Jalazmar if he really wanted to. F’drel bet he just hadn’t wanted to. Asshole. He’d like to sneer at that and close the door in his face, let M’ris know how he felt about the apology, but instead he nodded politely.
“Thank you, Weyrleader,” F’drel said.
The next comment had F’drel freezing for a moment. Fuck, right, M’ris was R’dal’s father. He knew that, it just didn’t really sink in until that moment. R’dal just wasn’t anything like the people with important, titled fathers he’d grown up with, and even though F’drel knew his father was Ista’s Weyrleader it hadn’t properly registered. F’drel watched as M’ris seemed to look around the weyr behind him, then back at F’drel. Fuck. Fucking dragonriders and their tendency to assume everyone was sleeping around. Fuck, he did not want to deal with the Weyrleader trying to figure out what his relationship with R’dal, said Weyrleader’s son, was. F’drel barely knew what their relationship was — ‘We met at an orgy we weren’t participating in, and I sort of thought he was trying to drug me, and then a few weeks later he knocked us out of a boat after I yelled at him and I almost drowned, but somehow we’re still friends or something and sometimes share a bed, but platonically.’ Yeah, now that he thought about it like that, their friendship made very little sense and F’drel had no idea how to explain it. Somehow it still worked for them, to F'drel's utter amazement.
“He stepped out for a minute to go get food. He should be back soon,” he said, trying not to reveal too much — too much what, they weren’t doing anything — and resisted the urge to shift from foot to foot awkwardly. This was so weird, and F’drel did not even slightly like it. Maybe M’ris would decide it wasn’t worth waiting and just leave? With F’drel’s luck that day, he’d probably insist on waiting and chatting with F’drel until R’dal returned. Ugh.
“Thank you, Weyrleader,” F’drel said.
The next comment had F’drel freezing for a moment. Fuck, right, M’ris was R’dal’s father. He knew that, it just didn’t really sink in until that moment. R’dal just wasn’t anything like the people with important, titled fathers he’d grown up with, and even though F’drel knew his father was Ista’s Weyrleader it hadn’t properly registered. F’drel watched as M’ris seemed to look around the weyr behind him, then back at F’drel. Fuck. Fucking dragonriders and their tendency to assume everyone was sleeping around. Fuck, he did not want to deal with the Weyrleader trying to figure out what his relationship with R’dal, said Weyrleader’s son, was. F’drel barely knew what their relationship was — ‘We met at an orgy we weren’t participating in, and I sort of thought he was trying to drug me, and then a few weeks later he knocked us out of a boat after I yelled at him and I almost drowned, but somehow we’re still friends or something and sometimes share a bed, but platonically.’ Yeah, now that he thought about it like that, their friendship made very little sense and F’drel had no idea how to explain it. Somehow it still worked for them, to F'drel's utter amazement.
“He stepped out for a minute to go get food. He should be back soon,” he said, trying not to reveal too much — too much what, they weren’t doing anything — and resisted the urge to shift from foot to foot awkwardly. This was so weird, and F’drel did not even slightly like it. Maybe M’ris would decide it wasn’t worth waiting and just leave? With F’drel’s luck that day, he’d probably insist on waiting and chatting with F’drel until R’dal returned. Ugh.