Post by Spiffy on Jun 12, 2011 15:14:07 GMT -5
The sands seemed desperately empty. Not of dragons, there were plenty of those hanging about, but of eggs. Not a week ago there had been two good sized clutches hardening peacefully by the beach. Or as peacefully as they could harden when the Weyr was reeling from the Breakout induced by the flight that produced one of them. Now there ere half that number.
Kitath was one of the dragons littering the sands, a respectful and non intrusive distance from the clutches, but close enough to keep a good eye on them. The young green was already bigger than the majority of her sisters, bigger than a couple of the blues. Sometimes Sh'lon wondered if she'd ever stop growing. She was laying on the sand, eyes raking the beach, returning to the eggs at odd intervals as if to check that they were still there, and occasionally to Semith, to check that the gold was alright too. The green was taking her new rank as a guard, even if a new one, rather seriously. Especially since the breakout. Especially since the egg theft. She'd insisted on spending their days off, and a goodly amount of their free time too when not asleep, at the sands, as much to keep Semith company as to guard the eggs. It was almost as if the green was guilty that she had done so little to prevent or even ease the Weyr's woes. She was not guilty that she had been protecting her rider during the breakout, oh no, even if Shea had been cowering in his weyr and avoiding the chaos the only way he knew how. No, she was guilty of not being able to find the outlaws, of not being able to take them down, of not being able to stop them comitting this atrocity, of not being able to stop them bringing such sadness to Semith, the mother dragon she'd never had. It made her blood boil.
Sh'lon knew all this. He too felt guilty for not doing anything to stop it, guilty of being a coward, of not acting sooner, of not living up to his title of dragonrider and Weyrguard. All he could do was sooth some of Kitath's anger, try his hardest to convince her that this was not her fault, that there was little she could do about it.
I would see them burn, she'd said to him only that morning. Burn to ash and nothingness for what they've done. Those poor eggs... He'd never known her this angry, this sad, and he no longer knew what to do. He wasn't made for this, wasn't a leader, was no good at comforting people or dragons or whatever. All he could do was sit next to his dragon, stroking her soft green hide and trying to thing positive thoughts to her as she vented to him.
Kitath was one of the dragons littering the sands, a respectful and non intrusive distance from the clutches, but close enough to keep a good eye on them. The young green was already bigger than the majority of her sisters, bigger than a couple of the blues. Sometimes Sh'lon wondered if she'd ever stop growing. She was laying on the sand, eyes raking the beach, returning to the eggs at odd intervals as if to check that they were still there, and occasionally to Semith, to check that the gold was alright too. The green was taking her new rank as a guard, even if a new one, rather seriously. Especially since the breakout. Especially since the egg theft. She'd insisted on spending their days off, and a goodly amount of their free time too when not asleep, at the sands, as much to keep Semith company as to guard the eggs. It was almost as if the green was guilty that she had done so little to prevent or even ease the Weyr's woes. She was not guilty that she had been protecting her rider during the breakout, oh no, even if Shea had been cowering in his weyr and avoiding the chaos the only way he knew how. No, she was guilty of not being able to find the outlaws, of not being able to take them down, of not being able to stop them comitting this atrocity, of not being able to stop them bringing such sadness to Semith, the mother dragon she'd never had. It made her blood boil.
Sh'lon knew all this. He too felt guilty for not doing anything to stop it, guilty of being a coward, of not acting sooner, of not living up to his title of dragonrider and Weyrguard. All he could do was sooth some of Kitath's anger, try his hardest to convince her that this was not her fault, that there was little she could do about it.
I would see them burn, she'd said to him only that morning. Burn to ash and nothingness for what they've done. Those poor eggs... He'd never known her this angry, this sad, and he no longer knew what to do. He wasn't made for this, wasn't a leader, was no good at comforting people or dragons or whatever. All he could do was sit next to his dragon, stroking her soft green hide and trying to thing positive thoughts to her as she vented to him.
