20.Apr.13, 06:13 PM
Oahvakeen had a way of aggravating women so much that his personality just begged them to get mad. And they did. And then Oahvakeen would sulk about how mean women were and how their hormones were so malicious. It was a vicious cycle of playing the victim and being made into one; one he didn't know he was doing. Though part of him enjoyed complaining about his personal attacks and misunderstandings with women. It was always easy to talk about the wrongs others had done to you.
"Oh, he's your son.", he repeated, letting the meaning of it sink in. So someone had bopped her, nine months later, this had come out, and some years later, here he was playing with the product of someone else's rejection. "Where's the father, why isn't he here? Did he leave you, was he mean? I mean, you seem to pretty and nice to scare away men, and you must have really loved him to want to make a kid.", he stared at the child for a moment, taking in its features. Then, he stared at the woman, squinted his eyes, and attempted to compare the boy's features to hers and figure out which must have been those of the father. "He doesn't have your fingers. Well, I mean he has five and all, but they aren't the same shape-type.", he gave up now, he wasn't eloquent enough with words to describe anything good enough to explain.
His eyes widened. "You do chores? But normal folk don't stay at the Weyr. Only people who have a job. That's how they keep the peace, they give you a job and keep you too busy to notice how boring and stupid everything is around here. I'm a metal worker. And a candidate. But I'd rather kill a dragon than bond with one. I don't really want to kill any dragon, but they fardles if I want one following me around and poking my mind and making me care for it and feed it and pet it. The only pet I'll accept is a rock. No noise, no poop, no feeding, no petting, no bugging me, and I can throw it away if I don't want it without any problem at all. "
"Oh, he's your son.", he repeated, letting the meaning of it sink in. So someone had bopped her, nine months later, this had come out, and some years later, here he was playing with the product of someone else's rejection. "Where's the father, why isn't he here? Did he leave you, was he mean? I mean, you seem to pretty and nice to scare away men, and you must have really loved him to want to make a kid.", he stared at the child for a moment, taking in its features. Then, he stared at the woman, squinted his eyes, and attempted to compare the boy's features to hers and figure out which must have been those of the father. "He doesn't have your fingers. Well, I mean he has five and all, but they aren't the same shape-type.", he gave up now, he wasn't eloquent enough with words to describe anything good enough to explain.
His eyes widened. "You do chores? But normal folk don't stay at the Weyr. Only people who have a job. That's how they keep the peace, they give you a job and keep you too busy to notice how boring and stupid everything is around here. I'm a metal worker. And a candidate. But I'd rather kill a dragon than bond with one. I don't really want to kill any dragon, but they fardles if I want one following me around and poking my mind and making me care for it and feed it and pet it. The only pet I'll accept is a rock. No noise, no poop, no feeding, no petting, no bugging me, and I can throw it away if I don't want it without any problem at all. "