19.Aug.22, 07:29 PM
Really, it was impressive the Weyr had managed to keep his father away for ten days. Z’kel had been half expecting his father to storm Telgar as soon as he’d heard about Z’kel’s Impression the day of, but it hadn’t happened. He’d been waiting for the storm to break ever since, and that day it finally had.
The conversation hadn’t even been that bad, as stressful as it had been. Lord Tillek had been resigned more than anything else. He hadn’t yelled. He’d even said he’d been expecting to lose his son to the Weyrs for Turns now, what with how often he visited and spent time with Mylorah, so it wasn’t even so much of a surprise to him that it had finally happened.
It was, however, very clear that Lord Tillek wasn’t sure how to feel about Seravath. Z’kel knew it, he could tell from the way his father talked around her, the way he looked at her, the complete refusal to acknowledge her color. The way he’d said “your mother is concerned about your safety” conveyed a lot.
But he hadn’t been angry, he’d reassured Z’kel—he’d still called him Tazikel and Tazi almost exclusively, but Z’kel still called himself that half the time so he’d hardly hold it against his father—that he’d always be welcome home in Tillek, and Tazi had not cried about it, and he’d even gotten an awkward pat on the shoulder before his father left with his bronzerider escort. He’d been given the warnings about being too touchy by the Weyrlingmaster, and didn’t try to hug him.
Z’kel was pretty sure he really would have cried if he had, so the awkward shoulder pat was welcome.
Now that he was gone, though, Z’kel wanted to scream a little bit. Possibly throw something really hard. Seravath, who was utterly perfect, found herself a good sized stick and asked him to throw it for her to play with. It wasn’t quite the same as throwing something so hard at a wall it broke, but it scratched some of the same itch and Z’kel was content to sit off at the edge of the weyrling area and play fetch with Seravath until his arm got tired and she got bored of chasing the stick and moved on to sitting at his feet and gnawing at it.
Mylo had told him about Impression, as something she’d one day experience and not him, and about being bonded to a dragon, but it was impossible to really describe how immediately he’d fallen in love with his little dragon. Seravath was amazing; it had only been a week and Z’kel was pretty sure he’d kill someone for her.
Which was why the thing about his father’s visit that rankled the most was the way he seemed to blame Seravath for–for stealing his son’s future, was the best way Z’kel could describe it. And she hadn’t done that, she’d given him a new one and Tazi was happy to have it, his father just couldn’t see it because her hide was green. Lord Tillek knew far less about dragons and weyrlife than his second son, but he’d still heard plenty of talk about greens.
Talk Z’kel had very determinedly not been thinking about himself because he loved Seravath and never wanted to think ill of her but boy had Z’kel heard some things—both Holder rumor and actually facts from Mylorah—that made his heart beat faster with anxiety. And of course, his father’s visit had very thoroughly smashed through the little mental wall he’d built up to keep from thinking about all of these things.
Thanks, Dad.
Seravath looked up, the sudden movement drawing Tazi out of his spiraling thoughts.
Amagrith and Mylorah are coming over, she said, and Z’kel turned in time to see Mylorah and her gold dragonet stop a few feet away to greet them. He couldn’t help but smile a little at Mylo’s dramatic bow, and the smile got a bit bigger when Amagrith copied her bonded. Even cuter was how Seravath got up, gave Amagrith a clumsy bow of her own, and offered the bigger dragonet her well chewed stick.
“Ladies,” Z’kel said, trying to keep himself from laughing out loud at the antics, and gestured to the space next to him for Mylorah to take.
The conversation hadn’t even been that bad, as stressful as it had been. Lord Tillek had been resigned more than anything else. He hadn’t yelled. He’d even said he’d been expecting to lose his son to the Weyrs for Turns now, what with how often he visited and spent time with Mylorah, so it wasn’t even so much of a surprise to him that it had finally happened.
It was, however, very clear that Lord Tillek wasn’t sure how to feel about Seravath. Z’kel knew it, he could tell from the way his father talked around her, the way he looked at her, the complete refusal to acknowledge her color. The way he’d said “your mother is concerned about your safety” conveyed a lot.
But he hadn’t been angry, he’d reassured Z’kel—he’d still called him Tazikel and Tazi almost exclusively, but Z’kel still called himself that half the time so he’d hardly hold it against his father—that he’d always be welcome home in Tillek, and Tazi had not cried about it, and he’d even gotten an awkward pat on the shoulder before his father left with his bronzerider escort. He’d been given the warnings about being too touchy by the Weyrlingmaster, and didn’t try to hug him.
Z’kel was pretty sure he really would have cried if he had, so the awkward shoulder pat was welcome.
Now that he was gone, though, Z’kel wanted to scream a little bit. Possibly throw something really hard. Seravath, who was utterly perfect, found herself a good sized stick and asked him to throw it for her to play with. It wasn’t quite the same as throwing something so hard at a wall it broke, but it scratched some of the same itch and Z’kel was content to sit off at the edge of the weyrling area and play fetch with Seravath until his arm got tired and she got bored of chasing the stick and moved on to sitting at his feet and gnawing at it.
Mylo had told him about Impression, as something she’d one day experience and not him, and about being bonded to a dragon, but it was impossible to really describe how immediately he’d fallen in love with his little dragon. Seravath was amazing; it had only been a week and Z’kel was pretty sure he’d kill someone for her.
Which was why the thing about his father’s visit that rankled the most was the way he seemed to blame Seravath for–for stealing his son’s future, was the best way Z’kel could describe it. And she hadn’t done that, she’d given him a new one and Tazi was happy to have it, his father just couldn’t see it because her hide was green. Lord Tillek knew far less about dragons and weyrlife than his second son, but he’d still heard plenty of talk about greens.
Talk Z’kel had very determinedly not been thinking about himself because he loved Seravath and never wanted to think ill of her but boy had Z’kel heard some things—both Holder rumor and actually facts from Mylorah—that made his heart beat faster with anxiety. And of course, his father’s visit had very thoroughly smashed through the little mental wall he’d built up to keep from thinking about all of these things.
Thanks, Dad.
Seravath looked up, the sudden movement drawing Tazi out of his spiraling thoughts.
“Ladies,” Z’kel said, trying to keep himself from laughing out loud at the antics, and gestured to the space next to him for Mylorah to take.