09.Feb.20, 12:34 AM
It was a nice evening, cool by Istan standards but still warm enough J’shom could be outside in no more than a light jacket. He paused in putting away the supplies from oiling Siolilth to watch her stretch luxuriously, the light glinting off her hide. Siolilth preened at her rider’s attention for a moment more, then made a show of craning her neck to look at something down in the Weyr Bowl.
Oh look, I see Erebuth and B’kit, Siolilth said innocently, We haven’t talked to them in a bit, why don’t we glide down and say hello? J’shom shot her an annoyed look; he knew what she was up to.
“What’s this? You, wanting to spend time with a blue? It’s a few months too early for you to be proddy. Or are you changing your schedule due to some mid-life crisis?” J’shom deflected, hoping he could deflect Siolilth to her favorite topic; herself.
Mid-life nothing, I’m only eight. If anyone here is having a mid-life crisis it’s you, dear rider, she snorted dismissively. I simply want to go visit Erebuth. J’shom sighed. He did not feel ready to have the conversation that would inevitably result from visiting the weyrling bluepair. He’d probably never be ready. Siolilth eyed him, decidedly unimpressed. Males! Idiots, all of them.
If you’re going to be a baby, I’ll just go by myself then, she said sweetly, stretching her wings out to prepare for flight. She would, too, and then B’kit would wonder why J’shom hadn’t come with her, and he didn’t trust Siolilth when it came to explaining his mysterious absence.
J’shom sighed in defeat.
He didn’t not want to see B’kit. He just didn’t want to confront what had happened during the Turn’s End celebrations. It had been such a nice celebration, too. B’kit’s gift to him had been a song he’d written. A well written and well performed song, and J’shom had enjoyed it immensely. But then B’kit had kissed him and J’shom froze. He hadn’t known how to respond. J’shom had not imagined B’kit would kiss him, or at least he had convinced himself it would never happen. He wasn’t even sure it counted anyway, since B’kit had probably had too much to drink throughout the night and may not have been in a place to really think it through (though his singing hadn’t been impacted by any likely inebriation). Even so, the kiss, however sober it may have, when put together with how one of B’kit’s fellow Weyrlings - Sh’ran, of a blue Siolilth couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of - frustratedly informed J’shom of B’kit’s ‘tedious pining’ for him, which J’shom had tried to brush off as Sh’ran trying to get a rise out of him or play a joke on his friend, started building up a narrative J’shom was having a harder time saying was impossible.
Did he want it to be impossible? He didn’t know. It was all very complicated. J’shom liked B’kit. He was a charming young man and a talented musician, and he cared so very much about those he considered his friends. And if J’shom sometimes wanted to brush B’kit’s hair back to keep it out of his face when it got displaced due to excitement or focusing so much on whatever he was doing, it wasn’t like anyone could blame him. But he’d also taught B’kit some of the Teaching Songs back in Katila, and J’shom struggled relabeling B’kit as an equal as opposed to a student, especially with how B’kit so often visited to learn more about music. And J’shom was a teacher first and foremost, even above being a dragonrider most days, and that was a line he couldn’t comfortably cross.
He’s a dragonrider, not your student. We’ve been over this. Now, I’m going to see Erebuth now, if you’re coming you’d better climb up, Siolilth interrupted his spiralling thoughts, and J’shom was clambering up to her neck without giving himself time to think it over further.
Good, Siolilth said, deeply pleased with herself, and launched herself into the air to lazily glide down into the Bowl.
Oh look, I see Erebuth and B’kit, Siolilth said innocently, We haven’t talked to them in a bit, why don’t we glide down and say hello? J’shom shot her an annoyed look; he knew what she was up to.
“What’s this? You, wanting to spend time with a blue? It’s a few months too early for you to be proddy. Or are you changing your schedule due to some mid-life crisis?” J’shom deflected, hoping he could deflect Siolilth to her favorite topic; herself.
Mid-life nothing, I’m only eight. If anyone here is having a mid-life crisis it’s you, dear rider, she snorted dismissively. I simply want to go visit Erebuth. J’shom sighed. He did not feel ready to have the conversation that would inevitably result from visiting the weyrling bluepair. He’d probably never be ready. Siolilth eyed him, decidedly unimpressed. Males! Idiots, all of them.
If you’re going to be a baby, I’ll just go by myself then, she said sweetly, stretching her wings out to prepare for flight. She would, too, and then B’kit would wonder why J’shom hadn’t come with her, and he didn’t trust Siolilth when it came to explaining his mysterious absence.
J’shom sighed in defeat.
He didn’t not want to see B’kit. He just didn’t want to confront what had happened during the Turn’s End celebrations. It had been such a nice celebration, too. B’kit’s gift to him had been a song he’d written. A well written and well performed song, and J’shom had enjoyed it immensely. But then B’kit had kissed him and J’shom froze. He hadn’t known how to respond. J’shom had not imagined B’kit would kiss him, or at least he had convinced himself it would never happen. He wasn’t even sure it counted anyway, since B’kit had probably had too much to drink throughout the night and may not have been in a place to really think it through (though his singing hadn’t been impacted by any likely inebriation). Even so, the kiss, however sober it may have, when put together with how one of B’kit’s fellow Weyrlings - Sh’ran, of a blue Siolilth couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of - frustratedly informed J’shom of B’kit’s ‘tedious pining’ for him, which J’shom had tried to brush off as Sh’ran trying to get a rise out of him or play a joke on his friend, started building up a narrative J’shom was having a harder time saying was impossible.
Did he want it to be impossible? He didn’t know. It was all very complicated. J’shom liked B’kit. He was a charming young man and a talented musician, and he cared so very much about those he considered his friends. And if J’shom sometimes wanted to brush B’kit’s hair back to keep it out of his face when it got displaced due to excitement or focusing so much on whatever he was doing, it wasn’t like anyone could blame him. But he’d also taught B’kit some of the Teaching Songs back in Katila, and J’shom struggled relabeling B’kit as an equal as opposed to a student, especially with how B’kit so often visited to learn more about music. And J’shom was a teacher first and foremost, even above being a dragonrider most days, and that was a line he couldn’t comfortably cross.
He’s a dragonrider, not your student. We’ve been over this. Now, I’m going to see Erebuth now, if you’re coming you’d better climb up, Siolilth interrupted his spiralling thoughts, and J’shom was clambering up to her neck without giving himself time to think it over further.
Good, Siolilth said, deeply pleased with herself, and launched herself into the air to lazily glide down into the Bowl.