17.Aug.12, 07:50 PM
You are going to be late for the lashing. Zhekemth's voice was cool. the Brown really didn't understand why all the public fuss about these punishments, especially this one. Having no true concept of politics, but regularly pessimistic, Zhekemth knew that even if E'kan didn't think much about it, the other humans doing so meant bad things. Bad things. He rushed his partner out of the hut, loping along the ground like a runner until the man was brought to the gather square, and able to hop up onto a raised stump to stare over the crowd.
Quite the scene was going on; the boy was putting up a fight, and E'kan grinned to see it. A fight was good, showed some strong will. And a complete lack of understanding. E'kan was a Rider, born in a Weyr and raised in the tribulation that had come from the Plague up in the North. A place he somewhat remembered, but had no real desire to return to. He'd been eight when his Goldrider mother, Laisha, and his Brownrider father had killed themselves after losing their Lifemates. Old enough to remember the way Laisha had flown, with no dragon underneath her...
No. He wasn't going North, to end up like his parents. And this rotten Egg wasn't going to return either, to take back news of the dragons and bring back plague and greedy blowhards to the South.
He had to admit, though, it was amusing to the the two Northers arguing- the goldrider was as much an idiot as her little friend, for not playing like Tsuen and sticking back. She might be safer that way. "No knife fight!" he yelled, disguising his voice as a bellow. "Wet down some dirt, and let the girls wrestle!"
It was amusing that there was more than one catcall to that suggestion.
Quite the scene was going on; the boy was putting up a fight, and E'kan grinned to see it. A fight was good, showed some strong will. And a complete lack of understanding. E'kan was a Rider, born in a Weyr and raised in the tribulation that had come from the Plague up in the North. A place he somewhat remembered, but had no real desire to return to. He'd been eight when his Goldrider mother, Laisha, and his Brownrider father had killed themselves after losing their Lifemates. Old enough to remember the way Laisha had flown, with no dragon underneath her...
No. He wasn't going North, to end up like his parents. And this rotten Egg wasn't going to return either, to take back news of the dragons and bring back plague and greedy blowhards to the South.
He had to admit, though, it was amusing to the the two Northers arguing- the goldrider was as much an idiot as her little friend, for not playing like Tsuen and sticking back. She might be safer that way. "No knife fight!" he yelled, disguising his voice as a bellow. "Wet down some dirt, and let the girls wrestle!"
It was amusing that there was more than one catcall to that suggestion.
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They may be mentioned in passing, however. Please view their profiles and keep them in character.