17.Aug.13, 02:06 PM
Caymath didn't think there was much more to say. They could not go North, so what was the point of might-have-beens? Perhaps. The blue conceded quietly. If only Nirinath would not support her rider’s foolishness. The last was said a bit bitterly for his usual tone, but Caymath had a pet peeve about dragons doing that sort of thing when they had to know better.
“Bronze.” Faredin replied promptly, no pretending he hadn’t thought about it before. He’d had his eyes set on bronze since he was eight and realized what it meant beyond having more eggs that Ronarth flew Nirinath. He wanted and expected to be Weyrleader someday, even if he had to wait until he was thirty and old. The Weyrleader decided how best to take care of everyone, made sure everything was in its place and running smoothly, and Faredin knew that was the job for him if he couldn’t be a crafter. And the halls up North would never take a not-especially-skilled weyrbrat even if he could get there, so why bother?
“It isn’t that it would be bad if another color chose me.” Faredin was a weyrbrat. There’d be no wailing over Impressing a brown, or *gasp* a blue or green from him. He’d take his dragon and soldier on as best he could for himself and his Weyr. “But, sir, I intend to be Weyrleader someday” It was said with no pride, just a calm, resolute certainty “and that means bronze.” Current Weyrleader aside.
Faredin could appreciate S’kef’s skills, but the fact that he rode brown still offended his sense of hierarchy a bit. And it absolutely drove the boy batty that he couldn’t figure out how the man had become Weyrleader when he’d neither had his dragon mate Nirinath nor been the current Weyrsecond. That’s what the hierarchy was for, or they might as well let the whole thing slip and live like animals. “Did you ever want to be Weyrleader, sir?” He was curious, since V’riy had bronze and yet had no rank of any kind. Had he been a leader before the plague and decided he didn’t want to do it anymore?
“Bronze.” Faredin replied promptly, no pretending he hadn’t thought about it before. He’d had his eyes set on bronze since he was eight and realized what it meant beyond having more eggs that Ronarth flew Nirinath. He wanted and expected to be Weyrleader someday, even if he had to wait until he was thirty and old. The Weyrleader decided how best to take care of everyone, made sure everything was in its place and running smoothly, and Faredin knew that was the job for him if he couldn’t be a crafter. And the halls up North would never take a not-especially-skilled weyrbrat even if he could get there, so why bother?
“It isn’t that it would be bad if another color chose me.” Faredin was a weyrbrat. There’d be no wailing over Impressing a brown, or *gasp* a blue or green from him. He’d take his dragon and soldier on as best he could for himself and his Weyr. “But, sir, I intend to be Weyrleader someday” It was said with no pride, just a calm, resolute certainty “and that means bronze.” Current Weyrleader aside.
Faredin could appreciate S’kef’s skills, but the fact that he rode brown still offended his sense of hierarchy a bit. And it absolutely drove the boy batty that he couldn’t figure out how the man had become Weyrleader when he’d neither had his dragon mate Nirinath nor been the current Weyrsecond. That’s what the hierarchy was for, or they might as well let the whole thing slip and live like animals. “Did you ever want to be Weyrleader, sir?” He was curious, since V’riy had bronze and yet had no rank of any kind. Had he been a leader before the plague and decided he didn’t want to do it anymore?