10.May.20, 06:59 PM
Aderyn froze in her seat. Join a Weyr? Her head reeled with the thought. Running had been her entire life. It was what she did and all she knew. All she ever wanted to do was to be a good Runner, which she was. So…why wasn’t she pleased to settle for where she was at? She’d never be a station manger or a Master of her craft. She had gone as far as she could as a Runner. What more was she seeking? D’hys continued on but she barely caught what he said, her little world beginning to crack around her. He talked of freedom, to do what she wanted and be who she wanted, and that did sound very appealing.
He brought her a portion of stew, and her stomach grumbled as though anticipating the food. Her brows furrowed slightly at the neat, tidy, perfect image this blue rider put up: it seemed so good it couldn’t possibly be real. Here was this devilishly good looking blue rider, putting off the perfect picture of a domestic male, doing the cooking and serving her, telling her that he was free to be himself here as this cooking, settled-down type, and she could be whatever she wanted to be, here, too. She was almost expecting a perfect ray of light to alight on his smile and sparkle off. She couldn’t help it. She pursed her lips brought her hands up to her face to stifle the snort of laughter trying to erupt, causing her eyes to water instead. Her shoulders shook and she regained control, brushing the tears from her face.
“I am so, so very sorry, I mean no disrespect. This just seems…far too good to be anything I could ever hope for.” She shook her head, sending her red curls dancing around her face, smiling at the absolute ridiculousness she found herself in. “Is that even something a holder or crafter can do? Join a Weyr?” Eyes wide, she searched his face. “Wait, your mother was a dragonrider? I didn’t think women…well, queen riders…” The smell of the stew wafted up to her, and she absently took a spoonful. It was quite good.
He brought her a portion of stew, and her stomach grumbled as though anticipating the food. Her brows furrowed slightly at the neat, tidy, perfect image this blue rider put up: it seemed so good it couldn’t possibly be real. Here was this devilishly good looking blue rider, putting off the perfect picture of a domestic male, doing the cooking and serving her, telling her that he was free to be himself here as this cooking, settled-down type, and she could be whatever she wanted to be, here, too. She was almost expecting a perfect ray of light to alight on his smile and sparkle off. She couldn’t help it. She pursed her lips brought her hands up to her face to stifle the snort of laughter trying to erupt, causing her eyes to water instead. Her shoulders shook and she regained control, brushing the tears from her face.
“I am so, so very sorry, I mean no disrespect. This just seems…far too good to be anything I could ever hope for.” She shook her head, sending her red curls dancing around her face, smiling at the absolute ridiculousness she found herself in. “Is that even something a holder or crafter can do? Join a Weyr?” Eyes wide, she searched his face. “Wait, your mother was a dragonrider? I didn’t think women…well, queen riders…” The smell of the stew wafted up to her, and she absently took a spoonful. It was quite good.