10.Mar.12, 07:09 PM
Breccan fought a second twisting of her lips. She had some opinions on optimism, as well. When it seemed unwarranted, it was only foolishness, as far as she was concerned. Beliefs that whatever would go well or poorly were a waste of mental energy. The world moved with little regard for how the people in it felt about it, in her opinion. She'd long ago realized that the only thing she had control over was herself, and perhaps that was why her kidnapping rankled so. That control had been, in many ways, usurped, and she didn't appreciate it.
"D'ren of Ronarth," she repeated quietly, committing the name to memory. If he was the Weyrleader, Ronarth was likely a Bronze. she'd learned enough about the Weyr to know that much. Well, she would meet D'ren of Ronarth. Somehow she doubted an enormous dragon was much like a hug, but she decided to reserve judgement. It'd be silly to argue with Lymsleia over something like that when she had no real information, anyway. Perhaps it would be pleasant to meet Ronarth, and perhaps not. No way of knowing and no point in thinking about it. She stirred her cooling tea with a finger absently.
"Mmm. Mine were a little less exciting," she answered, sighing heavily, "One was insane and the other simply didn't like me. I must have done a poor job of choosing." It was clear Lym had no reservations; she wanted to Impress, and badly. That sort of clarity was to be envied by Breccan's way of thinking, but she couldn't aspire to it just yet. Impressing was both a guarantee of freedom and a trap. It would, after Weyrlinghood, allow her to take back control of her life, but it would also mean staying in Katila all her days. She wasn't quite ready to resign herself to that, not when she still felt there was hope of returning. Perhaps she didn't have a family or a man and children waiting for her, but all that she'd worked for counted for little enough here. It was as if everything she'd ever done had simply been erased, leaving only her memories and what knowledge she carried in her head.
With a decisive gesture, she tossed back the rest of her tea, making a face at its temperature. "I'm sure I'll see you again long before the Hatching, but I do wish you the best of luck," she offered, with a faint smile, "I think I'm going to go." She wasn't sure where she was headed, but she needed a bit of time to herself, to consider what she'd learned. All her thinking was best accomplished in solitude.
"D'ren of Ronarth," she repeated quietly, committing the name to memory. If he was the Weyrleader, Ronarth was likely a Bronze. she'd learned enough about the Weyr to know that much. Well, she would meet D'ren of Ronarth. Somehow she doubted an enormous dragon was much like a hug, but she decided to reserve judgement. It'd be silly to argue with Lymsleia over something like that when she had no real information, anyway. Perhaps it would be pleasant to meet Ronarth, and perhaps not. No way of knowing and no point in thinking about it. She stirred her cooling tea with a finger absently.
"Mmm. Mine were a little less exciting," she answered, sighing heavily, "One was insane and the other simply didn't like me. I must have done a poor job of choosing." It was clear Lym had no reservations; she wanted to Impress, and badly. That sort of clarity was to be envied by Breccan's way of thinking, but she couldn't aspire to it just yet. Impressing was both a guarantee of freedom and a trap. It would, after Weyrlinghood, allow her to take back control of her life, but it would also mean staying in Katila all her days. She wasn't quite ready to resign herself to that, not when she still felt there was hope of returning. Perhaps she didn't have a family or a man and children waiting for her, but all that she'd worked for counted for little enough here. It was as if everything she'd ever done had simply been erased, leaving only her memories and what knowledge she carried in her head.
With a decisive gesture, she tossed back the rest of her tea, making a face at its temperature. "I'm sure I'll see you again long before the Hatching, but I do wish you the best of luck," she offered, with a faint smile, "I think I'm going to go." She wasn't sure where she was headed, but she needed a bit of time to herself, to consider what she'd learned. All her thinking was best accomplished in solitude.