02.Mar.21, 01:06 AM
It had been a few days since her enchanting encounter with the beautiful bronze dragon, and it's rider... though his features seemed to blend in to his face, whereas the dragon remained a shining beacon of memory of the dragons who once ruled Pern and now... did again. It made entire sense to her that the Dragons and Dragonriders were given tithe, she believed (like her traditional father) that the threat of thread was immanent, growing ever closer as the red star loomed eerily in the distance.
And so, the Dragons and Dragonriders were slightly elevated from the rest, above the Lord Holders even, and the Craftmasters... but they needed the Holds as much as the Holds needed the Weyrs... Rakka told herself as she shuffled down the path from the cavehold towards the cots. She had clutched in her arms a basket with things her mother had told her to bring to one of the cotholds for a sick holder.
And of course it was Rakka who had to do it, Rakka do this, Rakka do that, Rakka be here, Rakka go there. She rolled her eyes as she shuffled towards the cothold and deposited the basket outside the door, she wasn't going in there, she didn't want to get sick. She gave a brisk knock and then backed away. She would have to return soon to the caves which made up the dank, smelly, and damp home she'd lived in her entire life.
But she wasn't going to hurry, dark eyes darting around she watched with some interest at the bustle of people doing whatever it is they did... she should know more about what happened in the hold, being the daughter of the Lord Holder of this minor little hold beholdened to Crom. She shuddered in her mind, just thinking about all these things, the amount of times she'd thought the word hold it didn't even sound like a word anymore!
A low hum escaped her lips as she trudged back, no, there was no hurry.
And so, the Dragons and Dragonriders were slightly elevated from the rest, above the Lord Holders even, and the Craftmasters... but they needed the Holds as much as the Holds needed the Weyrs... Rakka told herself as she shuffled down the path from the cavehold towards the cots. She had clutched in her arms a basket with things her mother had told her to bring to one of the cotholds for a sick holder.
And of course it was Rakka who had to do it, Rakka do this, Rakka do that, Rakka be here, Rakka go there. She rolled her eyes as she shuffled towards the cothold and deposited the basket outside the door, she wasn't going in there, she didn't want to get sick. She gave a brisk knock and then backed away. She would have to return soon to the caves which made up the dank, smelly, and damp home she'd lived in her entire life.
But she wasn't going to hurry, dark eyes darting around she watched with some interest at the bustle of people doing whatever it is they did... she should know more about what happened in the hold, being the daughter of the Lord Holder of this minor little hold beholdened to Crom. She shuddered in her mind, just thinking about all these things, the amount of times she'd thought the word hold it didn't even sound like a word anymore!
A low hum escaped her lips as she trudged back, no, there was no hurry.