19.Feb.14, 01:27 PM
While Peorray went to find a blanket, R’nya quietly used the hem of his shirt to clean the child’s face of as much mud as he could, then licked his thumb, and cleaned away the smears. He tried not to let his mind wander as he worked, focusing on the present and the task with great determination. When Peorray returned, R’nya had cleaned the child’s face of almost every speck of mud or grime and he held the body gently against himself as he had occasionally managed to hold the boy in life.
“Thank you,” he said gently, taking the blanket from Peorray and very carefully wrapping Soren up tight enough to be snug, but not so tight as to be uncomfortable; a trivial worry, all things considered, but one R’nya couldn’t help enforcing. Lifting his gaze from the now snuggly wrapped body; the bronzerider’s pale eyes studied Peorray for a moment. Stepping forward, R’nya very gently wiped at the tear track on the goldrider’s left cheek, touch gentle. “Do you want to come with me, Peorray?” His question was very gentle, and he implied no expected answer as he waited patiently for her response.
It would be good for her, in theory; she could let go of her son herself, and R’nya could make sure she didn’t manage to toss herself into the void while she was at it; but he would understand any reluctance Peorray may have at leaving Wydrith alone for those few moments. R’nya could not remember the last time he had ridden another’s dragon, and he knew it was not something that occurred regularly in any manner of speaking. Wydrith was skittish as a rule, too, and to leave her alone, now? Would Peorray be comfortable with that? Would Wydrith?
Xyreith rose silently as R’nya waited, walking a few paces closer and preparing to allow his rider to mount, with or without the woman at his side.
“Thank you,” he said gently, taking the blanket from Peorray and very carefully wrapping Soren up tight enough to be snug, but not so tight as to be uncomfortable; a trivial worry, all things considered, but one R’nya couldn’t help enforcing. Lifting his gaze from the now snuggly wrapped body; the bronzerider’s pale eyes studied Peorray for a moment. Stepping forward, R’nya very gently wiped at the tear track on the goldrider’s left cheek, touch gentle. “Do you want to come with me, Peorray?” His question was very gentle, and he implied no expected answer as he waited patiently for her response.
It would be good for her, in theory; she could let go of her son herself, and R’nya could make sure she didn’t manage to toss herself into the void while she was at it; but he would understand any reluctance Peorray may have at leaving Wydrith alone for those few moments. R’nya could not remember the last time he had ridden another’s dragon, and he knew it was not something that occurred regularly in any manner of speaking. Wydrith was skittish as a rule, too, and to leave her alone, now? Would Peorray be comfortable with that? Would Wydrith?
Xyreith rose silently as R’nya waited, walking a few paces closer and preparing to allow his rider to mount, with or without the woman at his side.