16.Apr.21, 07:40 AM
Crying softly, it took the touch of N’lis’ wet hand on her knee for M’quel to be brought back to the present and their location. She blinked down at N’lis, wiping distractedly at her face to clear the tears that just wouldn’t stop. “They were the best,” she sniffled, dropping one hand over the top of N’lis’ and squeezing it gently. “I didn’t know you didn’t meet them,” she said honestly, wiping at her face with the other hand as she studied N’lis’ face. “Sometimes I forget you were Searched.” She smiled softly. Her anger abated as she sighed, shoulders drooping.
“Par’a – that was her honorific – was the best. She used to watch us kids when we escaped the Creche.” M’quel wasn’t prone to running away as a child, of course, but she had joined her friends in escapades more than once, to wind up at the greenrider’s hut to play instead of doing pretty much the exact same thing in the creche. “She used to let us paint Grith,” she added, a wistful smile on her lips. M’quel pulled her gaze back to N’lis from the blank space across the room she’d been staring at. “Maybe Ze will let me paint her…” she trailed off as she felt the green dragon’s wary curiosity.
“I just can’t believe they’re gone,” her tone dropped, expression saddening and she squeezed N’lis’ hand again, her own still covering it. “Why is this happening?” She asked, expression almost desperate, confused and bewildered. “Why are all these people being murdered?” It made no sense to her, and though she’d certainly heard her share of gossip about it in the Weyr, M’quel had yet to hear an explanation that made any sense at all. It was so random, so petty, so uncalled for. Dragonriders were only just getting back on top of everything. Why was someone trying to destroy them again?
“Par’a – that was her honorific – was the best. She used to watch us kids when we escaped the Creche.” M’quel wasn’t prone to running away as a child, of course, but she had joined her friends in escapades more than once, to wind up at the greenrider’s hut to play instead of doing pretty much the exact same thing in the creche. “She used to let us paint Grith,” she added, a wistful smile on her lips. M’quel pulled her gaze back to N’lis from the blank space across the room she’d been staring at. “Maybe Ze will let me paint her…” she trailed off as she felt the green dragon’s wary curiosity.
“I just can’t believe they’re gone,” her tone dropped, expression saddening and she squeezed N’lis’ hand again, her own still covering it. “Why is this happening?” She asked, expression almost desperate, confused and bewildered. “Why are all these people being murdered?” It made no sense to her, and though she’d certainly heard her share of gossip about it in the Weyr, M’quel had yet to hear an explanation that made any sense at all. It was so random, so petty, so uncalled for. Dragonriders were only just getting back on top of everything. Why was someone trying to destroy them again?