Vignette - Fatherhood

2008-04-07T16:11:20Z

The pair sits out on the rim of the Weyr. Dragon and human, bonded eternally. They share the same view right now, looking out at the land beyond their home.

Z’dyr doesn’t need words to understand his dragon’s thoughts. He lays a hand on Kayvoth’s forepaw, rubbing at the bronze’s knuckle. “You did good, Kayvoth. I don’t think they were expecting you to swoop in and finish it like that. And it was a long flight – even S’dric and L’dor said so.” That’s high praise in Z’dyr’s books.

Kayvoth’s unusually quiet, though his little burblings and murmurs are still present, just muted. << I only caught her. >> The flight is already fading from the bronze’s memory. The finer details, at least, are gone, but the importance of the event and its implications remain.

“Aren’t you even excited about being a dad?” As if he needs to ask. But he wants to say the words out loud, so that this is more real.

<< Of course. >> Words can’t express it all – it’s the undercurrent of subtle joy that underlines his thoughts and fully conveys his feelings on the matter that gets the message across.

“Make sure you do a better job of it than me, Kay.” Z’dyr draws his legs up almost to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees. “We’ll make a proper go of this – do everything we need to do, be there when we’re needed to be there. No running away this time. No running away ever again.”

<< No running away, >> Kayvoth confirms as he lays his head beside his rider. The pair looks out towards the southwest, and, this time, Z’dyr’s ready to face up to his responsibilities.

Vignette: Discovery

2008-02-18T23:22:20Z

Mid-morning at Fort Weyr the news came by drum. Crackdust had been found in the mountains above Bitra by Benden riders, which meant that Thread would be falling by the time the weather was temperate enough.

The young woman paid no heed to the drums beyond the 'urgent' beat at first, but when those who could understand the whole of the message began to talk, she listened. Crackdust? Thread would soon be falling? It left her with a sense of uneasiness.

Bit by bit, more news was coming in - dragons talking to one another, passing on details that could not be conveyed by drums. The riders were two bronzeriders: S'dric and Z'dyr, the former a Wingleader; the latter only just out of Weyrlinghood. And that was when a memory was jogged, and the woman stopped scrubbing the pan she was working on.

Z'dyr. It couldn't be?

She rushed through the rest of her work, the Headwoman giving her a look of disapproval when she dashed to find the friend who'd told her the news. Where had they heard it from? Could they write the name down? But they couldn't. After following the chain back, she found the rider who had heard it firsthand, and he was more than willing to share the details, bemused by her urgent manner. With the help of his dragon, who had received images courtesy of a Benden dragon, the rider sketched a picture of the man who had seen the crackdust first, and added his name in careful block capitals. The girl watched avidly as he worked, practically snatching the hide from the ageing bluerider and offering a heartfelt 'thank you'.

On her way back to the dormitory where she slept, her eyes scanned the drawing over and over again, disbelieving. It was only when she was sat on the edge of her cot that she let it finally sink in.

It was him. It was Zadzdyr. Now a bronzerider, but she'd always remember him as the supposed scoundrel sent back from Healer Hall, who had romanced her for sevendays and then left her to bear his child.

Her hands trembling so badly she could barely hold the hide, Lyvonne sat and stared at the familiar face, remembering.

Hate to love and love to hate her

Vignette - Fatherhood

Vignette: Discovery