27.Aug.12, 03:13 AM
There was an awful lot going on.
Outside, a dragon watched through the windows with the greatest of interest, though his true focus was less on the action and more the emotion. He couldn't see through those humans' eyes, but he could sense their anger and frustration through the walls. He could hear their shouting. He could smell their hate.
Humans, squabbling so foolishly. They built walls between themselves and their own kind, walls that had become far more effective a prison than the southern continent ever could be. The dragon knew he should not rejoice, but he couldn't help but feel a hint of smugness. If things continued as they were, he and His would get their way after all.
He vanished. He had someone very important to talk to.
D'REN
D'ren opened his eyes and groaned. He'd fallen asleep over his desk? What is it? he asked wearily. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He could sense the anxiety and panic in Ronarth's voice. While that was enough to wake him up, he also took it with a grain of salt. Ronarth was easily alarmed and prone to overreaction. It could be a real disaster, but it might also be a distant stormcloud.
As a torrent of information filled his mind, D'ren realized this was no stormcloud. It was a hurricane.
He stood up slowly, a dour expression sinking into his face. He had a lot of conflicted emotions over this, but one of the most prominent was disappointment. Stupid kid.
A minute or so later, Ronarth dropped into view over the healing hall.
Stop! he cried, landing heavily on the ground as he made his order. The dragon carried all the forcefulness and natural authority of a bronze when he needed, but that didn't erase the anxiety. Ronarth didn't like fighting. The forcefulness in his voice came purely from a desire for it to end. It caused his rider too much pain.
D'ren quickly went inside, pushing past some medics and other riders as he made his way to the scene of the fight. Thank Tyrrisath for the information D'ren said as he moved into the room where Ronarth told him the conflict would be found. He stepped inside, green eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.
Lymsleia, a chronic troublemaker. He still needed to meet with her to decide her punishment for her foolish activism. D'ren wanted to like the girl, but she caused trouble every chance she got.
Sanderon, a disappointment. D'ren had high hopes for the kid. He'd hoped that his own intervention and a hand of kindness might soften the edge, but it seemed like he was wrong.
Jada, always at the wrong place at the wrong time and often trying to fill shoes that she wasn't big enough for yet. He wasn't surprised to see her, but he still wished he hadn't.
T'shiro, who lacked an excuse. A dragonrider, most of all a bronzerider, should have handled the situation better. It looked like he'd been participating in the fight, and that was just disgusting.
"What's going on in here?" D'ren demanded. His eyes naturally moved to T'shiro. While D'ren wasn't pleased to see him fighting, at the moment it looked like he was at least trying to restrain Sanderon from causing more chaos. The Weyrleader's face was torn with anger and disappointment.
Outside, a dragon watched through the windows with the greatest of interest, though his true focus was less on the action and more the emotion. He couldn't see through those humans' eyes, but he could sense their anger and frustration through the walls. He could hear their shouting. He could smell their hate.
Humans, squabbling so foolishly. They built walls between themselves and their own kind, walls that had become far more effective a prison than the southern continent ever could be. The dragon knew he should not rejoice, but he couldn't help but feel a hint of smugness. If things continued as they were, he and His would get their way after all.
He vanished. He had someone very important to talk to.
D'REN
D'ren opened his eyes and groaned. He'd fallen asleep over his desk? What is it? he asked wearily. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He could sense the anxiety and panic in Ronarth's voice. While that was enough to wake him up, he also took it with a grain of salt. Ronarth was easily alarmed and prone to overreaction. It could be a real disaster, but it might also be a distant stormcloud.
As a torrent of information filled his mind, D'ren realized this was no stormcloud. It was a hurricane.
He stood up slowly, a dour expression sinking into his face. He had a lot of conflicted emotions over this, but one of the most prominent was disappointment. Stupid kid.
A minute or so later, Ronarth dropped into view over the healing hall.
Stop! he cried, landing heavily on the ground as he made his order. The dragon carried all the forcefulness and natural authority of a bronze when he needed, but that didn't erase the anxiety. Ronarth didn't like fighting. The forcefulness in his voice came purely from a desire for it to end. It caused his rider too much pain.
D'ren quickly went inside, pushing past some medics and other riders as he made his way to the scene of the fight. Thank Tyrrisath for the information D'ren said as he moved into the room where Ronarth told him the conflict would be found. He stepped inside, green eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.
Lymsleia, a chronic troublemaker. He still needed to meet with her to decide her punishment for her foolish activism. D'ren wanted to like the girl, but she caused trouble every chance she got.
Sanderon, a disappointment. D'ren had high hopes for the kid. He'd hoped that his own intervention and a hand of kindness might soften the edge, but it seemed like he was wrong.
Jada, always at the wrong place at the wrong time and often trying to fill shoes that she wasn't big enough for yet. He wasn't surprised to see her, but he still wished he hadn't.
T'shiro, who lacked an excuse. A dragonrider, most of all a bronzerider, should have handled the situation better. It looked like he'd been participating in the fight, and that was just disgusting.
"What's going on in here?" D'ren demanded. His eyes naturally moved to T'shiro. While D'ren wasn't pleased to see him fighting, at the moment it looked like he was at least trying to restrain Sanderon from causing more chaos. The Weyrleader's face was torn with anger and disappointment.