13.Nov.18, 03:20 AM
What T’ryn said made sense. F’drel was quite sure just about everyone he knew — outside of R’dal, apparently T’ryn, and a few of his greenrider friend-acquaintances — would be of the sort to get terribly offended if asked what their name used to be. Not something he would be casually asking, it seemed, thought at least F’drel knew it wasn’t a complete taboo. He didn’t really care what people used to be called, it didn’t change anything, or hold any meaning, but he liked knowing the rules so he could keep from overstepping them.
Though hearing R’dal’s old name made it more obvious he was M’ris’ son — the ‘ris’ was there — whereas his honorific didn’t reveal that information at all. So it seemed honorifics could obscure family relationships, which was interesting. Not that all people named their children after themselves, but enough did name similarities could sometimes be used to gain additional information about someone. Unless, apparently, you were a dragon rider and your dragon got rid of that part of your name.
Speaking of being named after your parents, F’drel wondered if all of R’nd’s children were so fixated on who their father was. Mylorah was a little, though she didn’t talk about it constantly and T’ryn seemed to be as well if his last comment was anything to go by. F’drel didn’t really see the point in caring so much, but perhaps he’d feel differently if he actually knew who his own father was. It had just been so unimportant all of his life he had trouble understanding why it mattered to other people. Not that he was going to interrogate T’ryn about how the bronzerider felt about his father to help F’drel understand — he wasn’t so interested he wanted to broach the topic with someone he’d just met, or even Mylorah, who he knew better. They could all have their complicated family feelings over there and he could have his own by himself.
The question now was should F’drel share his own name? Since T’ryn had given his. Was that the right response? T’ryn hadn’t asked, but was the question implied? F’drel didn’t know the bronzerider well enough to be sure. It’s not like T’ryn could learn anything from his name. It only mattered if someone knew where he came from and cared enough to ask around. And really, if anyone went to Nabol and wanted to find out more about him, they’d hardly need his old name. Drudges being Searched was hardly common, it’d be easy to track his history — at least part of it — down. F’drel had just been lucky enough that no one cared enough about him to bother with the effort.
“Fendrel,” he said after a pause, “Miri just didn’t like the ’n,’ apparently.” As name changes went, F’drel’s wasn’t particularly major. Two letters, and the sound of one of them was pretty much still there. His siblings still called him ‘Fen,’ though, so it’s not like he’d completely lost his old name anyway. But it was just different enough that every time someone said his name these days it reminded him he wasn’t a drudge anymore, that he had a dragon,even if she was a bit of a handful, and while a lot of things hadn’t really changed in the past two turns so many others had.
Though hearing R’dal’s old name made it more obvious he was M’ris’ son — the ‘ris’ was there — whereas his honorific didn’t reveal that information at all. So it seemed honorifics could obscure family relationships, which was interesting. Not that all people named their children after themselves, but enough did name similarities could sometimes be used to gain additional information about someone. Unless, apparently, you were a dragon rider and your dragon got rid of that part of your name.
Speaking of being named after your parents, F’drel wondered if all of R’nd’s children were so fixated on who their father was. Mylorah was a little, though she didn’t talk about it constantly and T’ryn seemed to be as well if his last comment was anything to go by. F’drel didn’t really see the point in caring so much, but perhaps he’d feel differently if he actually knew who his own father was. It had just been so unimportant all of his life he had trouble understanding why it mattered to other people. Not that he was going to interrogate T’ryn about how the bronzerider felt about his father to help F’drel understand — he wasn’t so interested he wanted to broach the topic with someone he’d just met, or even Mylorah, who he knew better. They could all have their complicated family feelings over there and he could have his own by himself.
The question now was should F’drel share his own name? Since T’ryn had given his. Was that the right response? T’ryn hadn’t asked, but was the question implied? F’drel didn’t know the bronzerider well enough to be sure. It’s not like T’ryn could learn anything from his name. It only mattered if someone knew where he came from and cared enough to ask around. And really, if anyone went to Nabol and wanted to find out more about him, they’d hardly need his old name. Drudges being Searched was hardly common, it’d be easy to track his history — at least part of it — down. F’drel had just been lucky enough that no one cared enough about him to bother with the effort.
“Fendrel,” he said after a pause, “Miri just didn’t like the ’n,’ apparently.” As name changes went, F’drel’s wasn’t particularly major. Two letters, and the sound of one of them was pretty much still there. His siblings still called him ‘Fen,’ though, so it’s not like he’d completely lost his old name anyway. But it was just different enough that every time someone said his name these days it reminded him he wasn’t a drudge anymore, that he had a dragon,even if she was a bit of a handful, and while a lot of things hadn’t really changed in the past two turns so many others had.