24.Oct.13, 02:42 AM
It did not occur to him that he was being suggestive; practicality had always ever been S'cer's aim in life, and even that had extended to his relationships. Not that he was particularly good at those either--one brief, secret relationship with a fellow Apprentice Farmcrafter that ended when they gained their Journeyman's knots wasn't a lot of experience. He scooped up a handful of sweetsand, pausing to survey the damage the thorn tree had done. Fardling crackbrain! Who jumps into thorn trees for fun?
It with with a slightly gentler hand that he began to scrub down the middle of Z'jan's back, from shoulder blad to nearly his lower back, cleaning the streak of dirt that had probably worked its way down the collar of Z'jan's shirt. Still, S'cer snorted at the remark, a wry grin curling at the corners of his mouth. "Oh really now? And no one was willing to oblige? I find that hard to believe." At the Weyr there seemed to always be a plethora of romantic entanglements, and among weyrlings and Candidates there were even more.
"At least now, so close to Graduation, you can take anyone you want to bed." S'cer dropped his hand, sure that he had scrubbed away all of the dirt, tone matter-of-fact. "That must be nice, I suppose." He hadn't thought about it, hadn't particularly cared one way or the other; there was always something else to occupy S'cer's time--chores, bathing, oiling--and Quelseth was more than enough excitement in his life.
It with with a slightly gentler hand that he began to scrub down the middle of Z'jan's back, from shoulder blad to nearly his lower back, cleaning the streak of dirt that had probably worked its way down the collar of Z'jan's shirt. Still, S'cer snorted at the remark, a wry grin curling at the corners of his mouth. "Oh really now? And no one was willing to oblige? I find that hard to believe." At the Weyr there seemed to always be a plethora of romantic entanglements, and among weyrlings and Candidates there were even more.
"At least now, so close to Graduation, you can take anyone you want to bed." S'cer dropped his hand, sure that he had scrubbed away all of the dirt, tone matter-of-fact. "That must be nice, I suppose." He hadn't thought about it, hadn't particularly cared one way or the other; there was always something else to occupy S'cer's time--chores, bathing, oiling--and Quelseth was more than enough excitement in his life.