[prp] Good Morning Breakfast [Ce'rian/Nyara + dragons]

[Sweet Symmetry]

Uta

Nyara of Gold Mictecath

Sunshine and a light breeze made the early morning much more bearable. Nyara watched as Mictecath chewed on breakfast. "You always were a dainty eater." She remarked aloud, for the sake of hearing a voice. Thank you. Came her dignified response, eyes lifting in a gaze that went far beyond the physical realm. Nyara chuckled to herself.

Ce'rian of Green Cythereath

A shadow passed over-head, and the cowering herdbeasts gave a bleat of alarm as Cythereath suddenly swooped down upon them. The poor creatures had already been distressed by Mictecath's presence and now, another was breaking up their ranks. The green dragon circled, debating which morsel looked best. Did she want a wherry or a herdbeast? A buck or a doe? Young or old? Fat or thin? Do hurry along, love. You'll turn them mad with terror. Ce'rian encouraged his beloved even as he came up to the fence to watch her select her kill.

It wasn't his favorite part of dragonriding, but he much preferred her hunt game than having to chop it up himself. "Nyaranau," he greeted formally to the gold rider, giving a small bow. "Mictecath," he added, including the queen respectfully. It was early, but he much preferred to hunt Cythereath before he bathed and oiled her... not after.

They all look so tasty. However did you decide? She asked Mictecath, even as she went in for another swoop. The green would much rather have had food brought to her than do this hunting business, but life wasn't always fair to the green.

Nyara of Gold Mictecath

Nyara looked up as another dragon joined them, and smiled as she recognised the green. The herdbeasts' alarm was not an uncommon event in the feeding pens, but it still caused her a little twinge; as a former beastcrafter, it was hard not to feel sympathy for the poor creatures. Still, dragons had to eat.

As Ce'rian joined her, Nyara made to raise her hand in greeting, but froze as he bowed. She ogled him outright- then gave a loud yet short laugh. "You don't have to bow to me." She grinned, tilting her head slightly. "It's fine. No need for formalities, or anything. How're you today, Ce'rian?" Though she liked the attention being a goldrider- well, weyrling- had bestowed upon her, it seemed... too much at times. Good attention was good. Bows and over-the-top respectfulness? Eh. Not so much.

Mic crooned as Cythereath joined her for breakfast, lifting her maw then nodding her head in greeting. Why, today I played a game of catch and one moved away from its herd. I caught it. Sometimes I pick a number in my head and then count it out. Sometimes I ask my rider which one seems especially tasty. It seemed like Mic had endless ways of dealing with dilemmas.

Ce'rian of Green Cythereath

Ce'rian felt an eyebrow lift, and his expression turned into a small, defensive frown. Not bow? Not bow!? It almost caught him off guard as she brushed off the formalities. Instead, he cleared his throat, and looked back at the feeding pens, trying to think what to say. Had he so badly misjudged? No. He would have bowed with just about anyone, but especially a gold rider. "You outrank me," he finally spoke, "It's a sign of a respect." He was flustered now, embarrassed that he had missed some unspoken rule. "But perhaps too much for this hour," he finally relented, frown deepening as he looked back at the dragons.

And then she just shrugged it off and carried on like it was no big deal.

Sometimes, Ce'rian forgot he was far from his natural element.

At her query, he gave a small shrug. "Well enough, thank you. Better once the good Lady eats." He gave a small smile in Cythereath's direction. "I trust Mictecath and you are well?"

The pale green considered Mictecath's words, before deciding to make her choice. In a flash, the green cam down upon a fat wherry. So many options... I shall have to employ some of your tactics next time. This one looked fat and slow and tasty and I shall be quite distressed if it isn't! She almost pouted, dropping her kill, and staring down at it hungrily. For being a dragon, Cythereath WAS a dainty eater; but the wherry was awfully fat, and would require a bit of work. Her dream was to have someone else hunt for her... but she hadn't yet tried to employ such a tactic.

Yet.

Nyara of Gold Mictecath

Initially, Nyara did not realise how much her words troubled him. It was easy to be tactless at times- especially with something that held such little importance in her life. When he did speak up once more, she smiled warmly at him- the trace of her usual grin lingering in the light of her eyes. “If you bow to me, I’ll bow to you. We can make it a thing.” She chuckled as she glanced towards him, something of a playful threat in her voice.

“Mic and I are well, thanks for asking.” Her grin returned. “Cythereath is looking more beautiful with every passing day. Does she know it yet?” She felt Mic’s attention waver from her cousin and settle on herself, and she smiled internally. You are incomparable, my love. There is no equal in my heart. Mic, satisfied, turned back to her green companion.

What a good kill. Mictecath complimented, inching slightly closer so that she may twine tails with her fellow weyrling dragon. It’s good to see you eating so well. It makes me very glad. Some siblings would not know what a healthy appetite was if it smacked them in the face!

Ce'rian of Green Cythereath

Ce'rian looked back at Nyara, to see if she were serious. Still, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he gave a small snort. "I wouldn't jest so loudly, much less to a green rider," if there was any bitterness in his words, he did his best to hide it. " But I suppose I shall do my best to quell old habits." Life as the son of a Holder meant formality ran through his blood... But he was a dragonrider now. A green rider at that. If anyone should have cared about formality, it was Nyara, but he supposed as a gold rider, she had the ultimate say.

Thankfully, Nyara picked a good topic. Any unease he felt melted as soon as Cythereath was mentioned. "She is certainly a beauty," he agreed proudly, "She's well aware of it, but I think she'd appreciate if others took more notice." His little delicate beauty looked so small compared to Mictecath. Still, the gold dragon was hard to miss, and even more difficult not to admire. "It's difficult to compete next to such stunning gold beauties," he spoke though his words were sincere, and not meant to be a slight. Mictecath was beautiful, as was Anakumath--in a Weyr like High Reaches, it was easy to be over shadowed by metallic hide. "How big do you think Mictecath will get?" He asked suddenly. "Cythereath is so small next to her."

Cythereath herself was pleased by her cousin's attention, especially when Mictecath twined tails. The green dragon crooned, taking a moment to nuzzle Mictecath, before attempting to shred her wherry. Food looked tasty, but attention was even better! I am pleased we get to share the morning together. Good food, and even better company. Cythereath spoke, eyes whirling a deep blue-purple. And such attention! Oh, the little green completely forgot any ounce of jealousy she harbored over Mictecath.

Nyara of Gold Mictecath

“Oh no.” She rolled her eyes theatrically, grinning despite the tone of dread in her words. “Is that yet another rule I’ve forgotten about?” She shook her head, curls bouncy slightly. “If it’s a comfort thing, though… don’t worry. I’ll just… not comment on it, or something.” Nyara shrugged slightly. His comfort and wellbeing was important- learning to tolerate random bowing was a small price to pay.

“She’ll be noticed. It’s hard not to notice, I think.” Nyara’s smile became a grin once more. “I think once she reaches full maturity, and, y’know, she Rises… She’ll have so many admirers she’ll need you more than ever to help her stay on top of things.” Ce’rian struck her a sensible young man- he and Cythereath were well-matched in many ways.

As he mentioned competing, she raised a brow at him and shrugged again. “It’s funny- I’m not much of a traditionalist, and I don’t think the colour of your dragon’s hide should change anything… but it’s hard to break others of that mindset.” She trailed off, then shrugged, some of her normal humour returning. “Don’t get me wrong, I think Mic is the prettiest dragon since Faranth, but I am biased.” Nya’s grin grew. “But sparkling hides are not the be-all and end-all. Our duty is more important than that, right? Protecting Pern… Cythereath will be able to flame. Mic cannot.” She tried not to let Mic feel the sting in her heart, but the gold was eyeing her once more. We were meant for each other, and I would never change you.

But you still sometimes wonder…

It’s no reflection of you, but of me.

Let’s not dwell on what might have been, but on what we have together.

She shook her head a little, then smiled brightly, returning her attention to Ce’rian. “Sorry. Size?” She rubbed her chin a little, tilting her head with brows furrowed. “She’s got a lean, almost gangly build. I don’t know if she’ll be big, but she’s leggy. You see it in runners- they tend to be sturdier than appearances indicate, and fast, too. She’s tall. At least, so the measurements and records seem to suggest.” Size was such a fascinating topic. “What about Cythereath’s measurements?”

Mictecath returned the croon with her own, nuzzling her cousin fondly. You flatter me, but I am glad for the company this morning. You bring such pleasantness to dull routine. She watched as Cythereath began to eat her food. How are you finding your lessons, my dearest? Or is there something more interesting you’d like to chat about?

Ce'rian of Green Cythereath

As far as goldriders went, Ce'rian was fast coming to the realization that Nyara was not one of "those" types. She didn't seem high-maintenance, or distanced, and even admitted to not being particularly traditional. Well, he could tell that easily enough. Still, while Ce'rian noted her wishes, he also knew not to assume that would be all the goldriders in the Weyr. Some, he knew, would no-doubt be a bit more hidebound.

At the notion of Cythereath rising, Ce'rian's brows knit and he involuntarily cleared his throat. "I have no doubt she'll be eager," he spoke, hoping to Faranth above his own cheeks and ears didn't start turning pink at the thought. "But I suspect she'll be most displeased watching the other greens steal the show." Of that he could almost guarantee--not that he didn't think her potential moodiness justified. Jealousy ran through her blood, and Ce'rian was well aware of his own flaws to match. Shards and shells, he hardly realized that such things were right around the corner... Or that he was talking about such things so openly.

"Duty is important," he agreed, as the conversation moved on. "Each dragon has his or her unique gifts. Where Cythereath and I can flame and help stave off the enemy, Mictecath ensures Pern's survival. Where Cythereath and I might fall, at least Mictecath and the larger colors can ensure there will always be riders ready and able to rise up and fight." It was simply the reality. He was not disposable, but the greens and blues took the brunt of Threadfall damage and losses, simply due to making up such a huge percentage of the population. Without an able-bodied queen, there was no Pern.

As the conversation changed, Ce'rian gave a small smile. "I know a thing or two about runners," he stated, suddenly quite curious . "My family's hold is known for its breed of racing runners. Mictecath's a beauty all the same, and I'm sure could out pace most of the dragons in the Weyr." Mic had always been big in Ce'rian's view, and if she were to be tall, that would likely help with her impression. "Cythereath is small for her color, and delicate, even for a green. More like a feline, I suppose. But she's light on foot and swift on wing."

Speaking of the green, the delicate creature couldn't help but eat up every ounce of attention Mictecath was willing to give. The little green all but glowed under such praise, and happened to move herself so she settled just a bit closer. Lessons are going well enough, I suppose. I'd much rather fly and flame and tumble about with all our beautiful clutchmates than practice flapping or have Mine sit in lessons. Sometimes it's so odious a task. And what of your lessons? Is it much fun to get to learn under the other golds? Special lessons sounded so nice and, well, special. Why couldn't Cythereath have such a special thing?

Nyara of Gold Mictecath

The space between them seemed to settle into something companionable, and Nyara found herself relaxing ever so slightly more. She didn’t have enough time in her day to get to know every fellow weyrling well- and until that morning, she and Ce’rian had never really spoken properly. This was a nice change- a great change.

Still, there was awkwardness. Her grin flickered a little at his forced cough, and she stole a glance to see if he was blushing. So proper and precious… With immense, impressive amounts of self-control, Nyara refrained from laughing externally. Still, his words did give her pause. Was Cythereath more like a Queen in that regard? She nodded slightly, brows knitted, then turned to Ce’rian fully. “Do you think she’d be the type to settle down? A one-mate kind of dragon? Or will she need her own coterie?” Nyara smiled, stretching her arms forwards, “Mic will always be happy to share attention with her, regardless.” It wasn’t much of a solution, but it at least made her feel like she was helping a little bit.

“I suppose so.” Nyara mused, not wishing to dwell on the fate of the smaller dragons. High Reaches did not hold them with the regard they deserved. Her thoughts drifted to Galxath and her father. “Still, I wish there was more we could do.” She drummed her fingers on the barrier, then shrugged. “It is what it is, though.”

When he revealed that he came from a prized runner Hold, Nyara straightened up, surprised for a second or two before grinning in delight. “Where are you from? At any rate, that’s amazing. I regret not pestering you sooner.” She laughed a little, still grinning. “Were you a Beastcrafter?” She turned back to the feasting dragons, her grin becoming a brilliant, appreciative smile. “She does look like she’ll be very agile in the air- an acrobatic type. I look forwards to seeing both of you fly more. It’ll be great.”

Mictecath had reserves of affection to spare, and lavishing it upon her dear family brought her almost as much pleasure as it seemed to bring to those who received it. She lifted a wing to cover Cythereath’s smaller frame, as though wrapping her up in a one-armed hug. I have no doubt we will become a rainbow force of wonder, when we are old enough to fly without struggle. She gave a low laugh, pleased by the mental image she created for herself. Classes… Ah, I share your pain there. My rider does not enjoy them so much, but she knows they’re important. I wish we could have all of our classes outside. The young Queen mused with a sigh. At Cythereath’s question, she nodded her head. It is good to meet with the other Queens- but I would much rather be watching over you all during lessons. Imagine if someone was hurt and… Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve been told I worry too much. She rubbed her maw distractedly, then sighed again. Still, it’s good to see you in such high spirits. It really warms my hearts, dearest Cythereath.

 

[Uta]

Sweet Symmetry

Ce'rian took a moment to stare hard at his green, a mix of embarrassment and curiousness warring within him. While he had been raised with Hold propriety, time in the Weyr had rather made him curious. He'd never actually gone out of his way to kiss a boy, but he'd certainly admired more than a few faces. Granted, now that he had Cythereath, he staunchly kept any rogue thoughts firmly on lockdown--but Cythereat was close to full-size, and it wouldn't be long before that restriction was lifted. And her first Flight...?

He was certain his face was about as bright as a ripe redfruit, but thankfully, the girl in question didn't seem to notice or mind. Of that, he was grateful. Finally, he found words. "I think she would like someone special, someone who has eyes only for her... but I also know she still gets easily wounded when others are soaking up attention that she craves." The young man loved his green, and would ne'er say a word against her, but even he was aware of how unsustainable her demands could be--and how easily she fell into distress. "For now, she seems to want to be the center of it all." A coterie would indeed be perfect for her darling but he thought that maybe, just maybe, she'd get more satisfaction if she found someone a cut above the rest. Who or what form that would take, he didn't know.

At Nyara's words concerning Mictecath, he did give a more genuine smile, perhaps one of relief. "Her doting presence is well appreciated." As if that was clearly apparent. Thankfully, neither Mictecath or Nyara seemed to mind. "...Has Mictecath shown any preferences in companionship?" The young Harper thought that was about as delicately put as he could manage. On the one hand, he could have let the conversation die, but another part of him was curious to know. Such a topic of conversation wasn't one he would have ever thought to be having, but... He also felt a little rebellious talking about it so openly.

As Nyara shrugged, Ce'rian added, "You will fight Thread, remember, on top of clutching. It might not be up in the fighting Wings, but you're Pern's last defense when Thread falls through the Fighting wings. It might be with a flamethrower, but it's still a great purpose." Not to mention catching the fighting dragons that fall during Thread, and the soothing the injured. Honestly, there was much a gold could do in comparison to some of the smaller colors--but he supposed it wouldn't matter.

Each one had their place, and each color their strong-points. While there was unspoken objection to personal treatment, or a lack of command, honestly, another part of Ce'rian was delighted to have Impressed a green. He could and would serve the Weyr without pressure to make the more complicated decisions, or have his every movement discussed. While it chafed his pride to be considered so lowly as Threadfodder, the less-insulting aspects of his position were easier to accept, and even enjoy.

"I'm from Exeter Hold," he explained. Doubtful that she heard of it, given it was a minor Hold, he added, "It's on the plains, about a days runner ride from Western Hold." As if that would suddenly explain everything. "My family has always been interested in runners, particularly of the racing variety. They sell stock primarily to Keroon, but the Beastcraft Hall has purchased a few for their herds." No matter the complications of Ce'rian's family life, he was proud of his little Hold and more than pleased that Nyara seemed to have an interest in runners. "I take it I might presume you've an interest in them?" It certainly seemed a safe bet. When Nyara questioned his craft, Ce'rian gave a small snort and a shake of his head. "Er, no, actually," he finally answered. "I was studying to be a Harper before I was Searched. I enjoyed riding runners, but my father and some of my older siblings were more inclined to the actual Craft." And Ce'rian was far too pretty and far too vain to desire the dirty-side of such a craft, though he'd never admit to it. "What of you? Did you have a Craft before Mictecath?" Honestly, he didn't know much about the goldrider at all, or many of his fellow weyrlings.

The little green gave a happy croon, her eyes whirling a brighter blue-purple, as Mictecath settled her wing over her. She had no problem snuggling closer to her larger cousin, desperate for the touch. Cythereath so did enjoy physical contact, and appreciated the older gold for so freely giving it. We will be ever the sight to behold. She assured, delight laced in her every word. I suspect we shall soon be outside much of the time now that we are learning to fly. Perhaps we will get more time with you, now that we're learning more complicated skills. She mused hopefully, reaching over to delicately nuzzle Mictecath in favor of her wherry. Still, she gave an assuring croon and sent a wave of affection and encouragement to the larger gold. You need not apologize. Are you not a queen? Are you not allowed to worry? It is sweet that your hearts are filled with such feeling. I would much rather you worry and care than have little care for your fellows. And perhaps, in Cythereatht's ideal world, she might worry and care about Cythereath just a little more than all the rest. Good food, wonderful company. If only every meal could be so lovely.  

[Sweet Symmetry]

Uta

Nyara listened, suppressing the desire to comment on how red-faced he’d become- that would be ‘rude’, and even she wasn’t that mean (sometimes). It was good to hear somebody else’s perspective on the matter, somebody else’s thoughts and feelings and concerns. She had her own in regards to Mic that she kept tightly locked away in a hidden part of her mind… And to add to it, the worries of a first clutch… What if her beloved didn’t last as long as the Weyr expected her to, in the air? Or what if she, somehow, through some whimsical fancy or stubborn desire to share her love with everyone, decided to pick a blue? Not that there was anything wrong with blue dragons- but it wasn’t the ‘done’ thing… ah. No, it was better to focus on Ce’rian, and Cythereath. Much better.

“Sounds like she’s looking for True Love, or something like that, maybe? Finding someone to suit her needs and tastes sounds feasible, in theory… even if it might be a daunting endeavour in practice. It’s all about timing, I’m told. Or something.” She grinned, not envying him the challenge in the slightest. True Love- what a thought. “But have no worries if Mic is about- she’ll always share attention with a beloved sibling. It’s more disentangling one’s self from her affections that can prove tricky, ha ha ha…” Nyara gave a mock-weak laugh that intoned a great deal of worry, imagined or otherwise. Mictecath was almost always affectionate. It caused a few of her siblings and peers some consternation, and the young woman had found herself trying to teach her dragon about boundaries. “Cyth looks like she can handle it though.” Nyara added, her smile returning in full force.

“Hum…” She gave Ce’rian’s question some serious thought, the smile fading away as her brows puckered. “Y’know, I think she might be slightly sweet on Nanuth… he’s such a dependable, good-natured brown, and he has the whole group’s welfare at heart from the sounds of it. But I’m not really sure yet. Every dragon she crosses paths with, she inevitably ends up trying to hug. Except for Alquemieth, and Cadereth- she’s definitely got her guard up around them…” Nya shrugged her shoulders slightly, smile returning. Were they gossiping… about their dragons’ love lives? That was… kind of hilarious. The thought made her laugh internally, her sunny grin returning. “If Cythereath has any favourites at the moment, I could let Mic know subtly. She’d probably try and pull some ridiculous matchmaking stunt in an effort to bring them together… Perhaps, on second thought, it might be best not tell her.” She grinned again, shaking her head at the thought.

He was right, of course, on the subject of Threadfall. It came from a place of logic and rationality, and it made sense. She packed away her disappointment, determined not to hurt Mictecath anymore than her errant feelings might already have. Her dearest dragon did not deserve it, nor she her if that was how she was going to approach the subject. She gave a slight, wistful sigh, then nodded her head. “Thanks. I definitely needed to hear that again.” Her gratitude was sincere, and the smile she wore was one of affection. Nya now regretted not getting to know Ce’rian sooner for multiple reasons- he was a sensible young man and he seemed to have a very kind, understanding heart.

“Oh!” As he explained his birthplace, Nyara listened in rapt attention, eyes wide. The Western continent. “That’s brilliant. What’s it like over there?” Idly, she wondered if he would ever go back, once his Turns of service were up. Would he transfer to Western Weyr? She made a note to ask him later, at some point.

Ce’rian had been a Harper before he was a candidate? Huh! That… made a remarkable amount of sense, all of a sudden. She grinned at him, glancing between him and the dragons as they sat together. “Actually, I love runners. I was apprenticed to a journeyman beastcrafter stationed here- Rolen, his name is. I wanted to specialise in the study of breeding lines, and training racing stock, and if I didn’t Impress… well, I planned to go to the Beastcrafthall, and pursue those studies in a more official capacity.” Here Nyara paused, stretching slightly as she watched their bondmates. A fond smile lit up her face, tenderness and affection vying for dominance in her bright caramel eyes. “I’ve wanted to be a dragonrider for a very long time, though- I couldn’t… couldn’t really see anything beyond it, you know? But just in case it didn’t happen, I had a backup plan.” She laughed, grinning at him.

“It’s a good life. I know we’ll do good. There’ll be hard times of course, and danger… but our sacrifices aren’t in vain.” Her voice grew soft and thoughtful, then she chuckled again, as if returning from some daydream or other. “So, what did you do as a Harper?” He struck her as the type to perform or sing- but maybe he was a skilled writer? She thought of Shan’s writing dabbles for a moment, wondering if perhaps the two had spoken.

Mictecath crooned in return, swelling up with love and affection for this dainty sister she so adored. She snuggled closer still, were it possible, now firmly ensconced in Cythereath’s personal bubble. I suspect you are right, my dear. How wonderful it shall be, as the weather warms, to spend more time out in the sun and in your lovely company. Mictecath returned the nuzzle, humming gently, slinking a forepaw to rest upon Cythereath’s. Was there anything more wonderful, really, than spending time with a beloved sibling, and showing them all the love one’s hearts held? I do hope we have more class-time together. My rider told me that we shall be taught drills to help catch dragons in need, in the future. Perhaps, if we need partners or volunteers, you would care to be mine?

The delightful green’s reassurance and affection was returned with waves of Mic’s own love and contentment. The pale gold dragon gave a small croon of gratefulness and appreciation. My sweet Cythereath, you are ever so kind to me- and so wise and thoughtful. I am more grateful than I can say. If you are ever in need of help, come to me, and hopefully I will be as much good to you as you have been to me. She bowed her head slightly, as a gesture of respect, then nuzzled her sister once more for good measure. Listening to a queen’s worries, then telling her it was okay to worry, well…

Nya watched her a little more closely. Had she been growing anxious over her clutchsiblings? Certainly, she did not seem quite as naturally anxious as Anakumath had appeared to her… but perhaps it was just Mic’s natural protectiveness, shining through in a time when they were more prone to accidents? It’ll be okay, you know? You can’t save everyone, and nobody expects you to. It is good that you care, though. Your hearts are filled with love, and each life you touch can feel it too. She reached out to wrap her dragon in a brief mental embrace.

Thank you, my dearest Nya. Mic answered softly, bowing her head again, eyes whirling blue-green with tinges of purple. She turned to Cythereath beside her, gently nuzzling her for the n’th time. Perhaps we should have some breakfast dates, as humans are wont to do? Mictecath asked, her mindvoice bright and enthusiastic.  

[Uta]

”Sweet Symmetry”

The young man looked back at the pair of them; the significantly larger Mictecath, and his darling pale green wrapped up so delicately against her. He knew that Cythereath had no objection against attention or affection, provided it was given to her. When she felt left out or slighted is when it became a complication.

“It’s possible,” he agreed, though his lips pursed in thought. “I suspect at this stage she doesn’t want much besides someone to adore her. Time will tell, though, one way or another. I just hope she finds what it is she wants.” And why wouldn’t he? She was a beautiful green, and she was his. But he also understood that her hearts were still gentle, for all the game playing she enjoyed. A coterie certainly seemed appealing to her, but it was her desire to be ever-so-beloved that concerned him. Having had little by way of relationships himself, Ce’rian wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to games of the heart--but he knew that he would see her happy however that came to be.

“Then I suppose the two of them will find good company in one another. I don’t think Cythereath has a limit when it comes to receiving attention.”

The green rider glanced back at Nyara when she listed those whom Mictecath seemed to favor… and those who she seemed guarded against. Cythereath had nothing but compliments for Cadereth and Alquemieth, though he wasn’t about to say as much. The only dragons the green didn’t seem to care much for were ones that looked like competition; even then, dislike was too strong a word for it. Concern? Uncertainty? Fear? Perhaps that was it. Fear that she would not add up, would not be so favored or given a second look in comparison to some of her sisters. But that was a thought for another day; for now, the green had hardly a care in the world. “I have no doubt she’ll have the pick of the Weyr when her time comes. I can’t tell if it’s better or worse for a dragon to have a favorite going into a flight.” Flights certainly didn’t have guaranteed outcomes, at least from what he understood. Honestly, even though they had lessons on the matter, the Weyr’s stance of partners was both intriguing and worrisome. Ce’rian wasn’t a prude, but he certainly didn’t want to be nothing more than a warm body.
“As for Cythereath, well,” he hesitated a moment, before giving a shrug while he leaned against one of the fence posts. “I suppose she has no favorites. She just admires them all, and yearns to be admired back.” There wasn’t much more to it, really, especially as his darling hadn’t quite yet explored lust. He wondered what would happened when she did, but that certainly wasn’t proper conversation.

Having someone interested in his Hold did surprise him. Still, he smiled a bit more warmly at Nyara and gave a small shake of his head. “The Hold itself is on the plains, similar to Keroon, but a little less dry and dusty, and a bit more green. Lots of territory to ride and roam; lots of runners. Have you heard of the runner Good Fortune? Or Clear Skies? The former was bought by the Lord of Southern Hold, and made good on his name. The latter has won quite a few tracks, and his line produced even more. They’re probably our most famous, but have given us a reputable name.” He certainly wasn’t trying to brag, but Nyara was the first one he’d met to even care an ounce about runners. “If you were interested in breeding them, then you’re certainly speaking to a fellow admirer. Even if I didn’t go into the Craft itself.”

He could have, surely, but the Beastcraft Hall had never been his calling. “As for being a Harper, I specialized in the harp, and like to think I have a fair voice, even if it’s not what I’m known for. I was hoping to specialize in composition, but was Searched before then. Not that I regret it. Funny, how I was Searched by Western, but found her in High Reaches.” He could only wonder what might have happened if he hadn’t been there. Would she have picked someone else? Would she have…

Cythereath, for her part, had all but given up eating. To be given such wonderful attention, and so freely, was surely more interesting than food. Besides which, she could pick at it if needed--but for now, her attention was solely on Mictecath. I would certainly enjoy to be your partner, though I suppose you’ll need to catch us all. But it’s a lovely thought all the same. And the little green gave a wistful sigh, knowing full well that in the grand scheme of things Mictecath’s time would likely be more focused on the bigger dragons of the Weyr.

When the gold offered her such sweet words and a promise for aid, Cythereath made a small, mental note--saving such a thought for later. You are too generous. I could never take up such time with the woes and concerns of a simple green like me. But it is sweet of you to say as much. She was not so blind as to know what the Weyr thought of her color. She was not so deaf as to ignore the preaching of some. Maybe, though, her sister would be different. Morning breakfast dates would be quite grand if ever you would wish it. I am not so particular as to the details of when and how we get to spend time together, so long as we’re together.

Was it so wrong to want and crave attention? Was she not deserving of it, too? Cuddled up sweetly against the larger dragon, Cythereath’s only regret was that they were still well within the Feeding Pens. Soon enough, she knew, they’d be forced to part so others might eat.