08.Jan.14, 06:47 PM
They made sense, his words, and she found herself nodding along with them as she gazed again at his bare feet. The nonsensicalness of them brought a smile to her lips and she lifted her eyes to look at him. How utterly out of character for R'nya to run about barefoot. She was sure there was some kind of reason for it, but for now she would entertain herself with her flights of fancy.
Her brow furrowed with a frown. How could she not regret the events of that day? So much had been destroyed and so many people had perished. Perhaps she would not regret her very own actions, he was right. She was a dragonrider and she had been doing what dragon riders do. But she would regret the deaths and destruction always. She smiled sadly as her eyes tracked Xyreith when the big bronze walked around them. What she wouldn't give to have the memory of a dragon. To be able to forget the horrible things within days, what a treasure that must be.
"I'll try not to regret them, R'nya, but I will never forget them," she said stubbornly. More than just Ameris had been affected that day. She'd found out later that the father of her son had died in his hut, crushed by the tons of mud that had swept the weyr away. "Rislan's father is dead," she told him suddenly, "crushed to death, him and his dragon." She hadn't love the man. Had barely spoken to him after their son was born, Rislan never knowing the bronzerider who had fathered him. And now.. Now he'd never get the chance.
Mizeath took the presence of Xyreith in stride, welcoming it. She'd always like Xyreith. He was what a bronze should be. Strong, proud and regal, though she highly disapproved of his weyrling like antics with Aradissicath, and Mizeath was as comforted by his presence as Ameris was by R'nya's. She rumbled a greeting at the first touch of his nose, eyes still intent on the people before them and with a sigh she settled her great head on her forepaws to watch her rider tear herself apart with her grief.
Her brow furrowed with a frown. How could she not regret the events of that day? So much had been destroyed and so many people had perished. Perhaps she would not regret her very own actions, he was right. She was a dragonrider and she had been doing what dragon riders do. But she would regret the deaths and destruction always. She smiled sadly as her eyes tracked Xyreith when the big bronze walked around them. What she wouldn't give to have the memory of a dragon. To be able to forget the horrible things within days, what a treasure that must be.
"I'll try not to regret them, R'nya, but I will never forget them," she said stubbornly. More than just Ameris had been affected that day. She'd found out later that the father of her son had died in his hut, crushed by the tons of mud that had swept the weyr away. "Rislan's father is dead," she told him suddenly, "crushed to death, him and his dragon." She hadn't love the man. Had barely spoken to him after their son was born, Rislan never knowing the bronzerider who had fathered him. And now.. Now he'd never get the chance.
Mizeath took the presence of Xyreith in stride, welcoming it. She'd always like Xyreith. He was what a bronze should be. Strong, proud and regal, though she highly disapproved of his weyrling like antics with Aradissicath, and Mizeath was as comforted by his presence as Ameris was by R'nya's. She rumbled a greeting at the first touch of his nose, eyes still intent on the people before them and with a sigh she settled her great head on her forepaws to watch her rider tear herself apart with her grief.