21.Jul.13, 11:12 AM
The days since the Hatching had passed in a blur, underscored most frequently by the frequent feedings and vigils spent by Quelseth's side as she was continuously poked and prodded by dragonhealers. They had yet to discern why she was so tiny, or why she was still so weak, but at least she could walk about unassisted--that at least assuaged some of S'cer's fears.
You worry too much. I will be fine.
S'cer stirred, sprawled face-down on his bed, rousing up from a half-sleep to grumble, "I can't help but want answers. It's natural." He felt as exhausted as Quelseth did, truthfully, worn out by the mental strain of worrying for her and the physical exhaustion that came with constant feedings of a young dragonet. He had been warned to try to sleep whenever possible; S'cer was just lucky that Quelseth appeared to be less rambunctious than some of the other hatchlings.
The tiny green lay curled in a ball, one wing flicked over herself, pressed solidly to S'cer's side. Reassurance flowed off her tiny body in waves, comforting S'cer, and he yawned. Some of this lethargy had to be due to the heat--Katilan summers were unbearable, and S'cer had no desire to be outside or for Quelseth to try to walk around in the sun for long. He had just settled back into a doze when the nudge in his head woke him; cracking open an eye, S'cer glanced at the green.
Someone comes.
"It can't be a dragonhealer; I thought we were done with them for today." S'cer wearily sat up, rubbing at his red eyes and stifling a groan. Quelseth snorted, seeming dubious that it would be anyone but a dragonhealer--they did not have many visitors, not like some of the other, more popular weyrlings. "It'll be fine, I promise," S'cer soothed, running the flat of his palm over Quelseth's soft nose, a fond smile on his face. "You don't have to talk to them if you don't want to--I don't mind."
S'cer stirred, sprawled face-down on his bed, rousing up from a half-sleep to grumble, "I can't help but want answers. It's natural." He felt as exhausted as Quelseth did, truthfully, worn out by the mental strain of worrying for her and the physical exhaustion that came with constant feedings of a young dragonet. He had been warned to try to sleep whenever possible; S'cer was just lucky that Quelseth appeared to be less rambunctious than some of the other hatchlings.
The tiny green lay curled in a ball, one wing flicked over herself, pressed solidly to S'cer's side. Reassurance flowed off her tiny body in waves, comforting S'cer, and he yawned. Some of this lethargy had to be due to the heat--Katilan summers were unbearable, and S'cer had no desire to be outside or for Quelseth to try to walk around in the sun for long. He had just settled back into a doze when the nudge in his head woke him; cracking open an eye, S'cer glanced at the green.
"It can't be a dragonhealer; I thought we were done with them for today." S'cer wearily sat up, rubbing at his red eyes and stifling a groan. Quelseth snorted, seeming dubious that it would be anyone but a dragonhealer--they did not have many visitors, not like some of the other, more popular weyrlings. "It'll be fine, I promise," S'cer soothed, running the flat of his palm over Quelseth's soft nose, a fond smile on his face. "You don't have to talk to them if you don't want to--I don't mind."