09.Apr.22, 04:52 AM
B’jin smiled gently at the young woman when she came inside and joined him. As she spoke, he raised an eyebrow slightly at the comment about having thought they’d met, and he shook his head slightly; he was sure he would have remembered her rather striking eyes. The compliment to the scarf had B’jin flash another bright smile, and he nodded once as he stroked one hand over the gauzy material.
Gaze shifting to the hand that was extended, B’jin took it with his own hand; his was smooth and soft from years of applying oil to his dragon’s hide. Years ago, he had had calloused fingers from playing the guitar, but one could only oil a dragon for so many years before one’s hands were turned soft as silk! B’jin didn’t mind, now, though he had absolutely abhorred being a dragonrider back in the early days. Such was life. At least then he’d still been able to talk. And sing. B’jin sighed, and took his hand back gently.
B’jin reached down to unhook his little chalkboard from his belt. It was a small rectangular tablet, about three-hands wide and five hands tall, hung on a leather tether that connected to B’jin’s belt. Picking a stick of chalk out of his pocket, B’jin quickly wrote a simple message, before turning it around to display to the girl. His handwriting was neat and easy to read – assuming the girl before him was capable of reading! He hadn’t thought of that, and B’jin’s gaze studied her face to make sure she could read it. Otherwise he would have to get Larrikith to intervene.
Hi! I’m B’jin. My dragon is Green Larrikith. We’re from Telgar Weyr. It’s lovely to meet you! I don’t think we’ve met before.
After a few moments, when B’jin was sure the girl – Mae – had read it, he wiped it off with his sleeve and wrote some more words down carefully, before turning it once more for her inspection.
The blue scarf matches my mate’s dragon. It’s for me, but I want to get him a gift, too. Do you know the Hold well?
Gaze shifting to the hand that was extended, B’jin took it with his own hand; his was smooth and soft from years of applying oil to his dragon’s hide. Years ago, he had had calloused fingers from playing the guitar, but one could only oil a dragon for so many years before one’s hands were turned soft as silk! B’jin didn’t mind, now, though he had absolutely abhorred being a dragonrider back in the early days. Such was life. At least then he’d still been able to talk. And sing. B’jin sighed, and took his hand back gently.
B’jin reached down to unhook his little chalkboard from his belt. It was a small rectangular tablet, about three-hands wide and five hands tall, hung on a leather tether that connected to B’jin’s belt. Picking a stick of chalk out of his pocket, B’jin quickly wrote a simple message, before turning it around to display to the girl. His handwriting was neat and easy to read – assuming the girl before him was capable of reading! He hadn’t thought of that, and B’jin’s gaze studied her face to make sure she could read it. Otherwise he would have to get Larrikith to intervene.
Hi! I’m B’jin. My dragon is Green Larrikith. We’re from Telgar Weyr. It’s lovely to meet you! I don’t think we’ve met before.
After a few moments, when B’jin was sure the girl – Mae – had read it, he wiped it off with his sleeve and wrote some more words down carefully, before turning it once more for her inspection.
The blue scarf matches my mate’s dragon. It’s for me, but I want to get him a gift, too. Do you know the Hold well?