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 Posted: Sun Dec 10, 2017 2:30 pm
Half-Mark had been a strutting, puff-chested mess for days. Weeks. How long did it take a firelizard to clutch? Longer than had become convenient, that was certain. D'mar had been Dolmar still when his brown had flown Liasa, and only today, at last, had Marinel found time to visit him, leaving him with two eggs, both snugly secreted into pots of warm sand. Five in all, it'd not been a bad clutch for a green, he supposed. One of the two left with him had been a deep blue, almost a perfect match for Strigonth's hide. It, of course, had been immediately decided as the one they would keep. But what, then, of the other? With a dragonet (though an entirely capable one, of course) and a firelizard already, a fourth life in D'mar's hands felt...negligent, somehow. No, better to devote his efforts to the first three and get them set up right before another would do. And that left the matte of who to give the egg to. There were several that came to mind, and Strigonth voiced his opinions as well. In the end, a choice was made, and so it was that one evening after lessons and chores were all done, in the small window of free time the weyrlings all had, that D'mar found himself seeking out G'ryl. He and Sarcoth are over this way, I do believe. Strigonth strutted at his rider's side, head high, the picture of confidence and poise. It would be good, in his opinion, to begin the cultivating of allies and friendships. The gift of the egg would be a good start.
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Posted: Wed Dec 13, 2017 7:18 pm
Weyrling lessons were not less intense despite having Impressed... if anything, things had grown that much more real. Every moment they trained, learned, and worked was another moment closer to fighting. Neither G'ryl nor Sarcoth were terribly interested in wasting any opportunities to learn. Thus, when the Weyrling lessons ended, the brownrider could often be found curled up under a blanket with his brown, the pair reading whatever scroll or book they'd managed to fish out from the Records Rooms this time. If he was to fight thread, G'ryl was determined to be as efficient as possible in pursuing such duty. Sarcoth loved the knowledge, the zeal and tension of historical lessons. It meant the evenings passed quickly, however, as G'ryl read to Sarcoth and they debated the merrits of this maneouver or that... this decision or that. The teaching ballads contained some interesting information, yes, but it was the knitty gritty, the reports... the theoretical papers that interested them most. The dry nature of the material quickly bored anyone who dropped in to say hello to the still-healing Weyrling. His ankle was still casted, but in a walking boot now, and his face had mostly knitted together – the scars were broad and crimson, and his thigh was healing well, he walked with a limp still, but it was growing less pronounced as the days wore on. Progress was being made, if slowly. When Strigonth and D'mar approached, it was during one such study session – large blanket thrown over the brown, G'ryl tucked against the dragon's side as Sarcoth looked over his rider's shoulder, listening to him read. G'ryl had become more social since Impression, at least in that he'd study in common areas when they weren't terribly busy – both dragon and rider embraced their aloofness. The dance of the light as Strigonth approached drew Sarcoth's attention and it was a moment before the brown arced his neck to find the blue strutting along beside His. Ah. We have company, Mine. Strigonth and His approach. The brown warbled a greeting, though he made no move to unseat the blanket, Hello Strigonth! To what do we owe the pleasure of your company? The brown sounded genuinely happy to see his brother.
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Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2017 12:33 pm
Finding Sarcoth bundled up was always...somewhat charming, really. the brown had proved himself in the last few weeks to be entirely clever and capable, which made his predilection for being swaddled more eccentric, and less the mark of a feeble mind or an immaturity that D'mar would have found distasteful. Strigonth, ever the wonder, seemed to be genuinely above such concerns. He knew he was the best dragon around, but unlike his rider, felt no need to lord that over anyone, or draw comparisons that would cast anyone else in a negative light (as, in the blue's opinion, that would only reflect negatively upon himself). It was an attitude that D'mar hadn't quite grasped, nor was he sure he wanted to. Regardless, Sarcoth was a fine enough brown, and G'ryl and he were...something like brothers in arms, or in scars, perhaps, after the bronze had had his way with them. Strigonth's head lifted a fraction higher as his brother regarded him, pausing mid-step with a tail twitch and a wing spread that served as an almost jaunty sort of draconic hat tip. He really was quite fond of Sarcoth. So well put together. Sarcoth! Always wonderful to see you wrapped up in your blankets and books. Learning much of great import? The blue respected the desire to learn and improve. His own rider was rather fond of records as well. I suppose you might say that we've come to return the gift of your presence with a present of our own. D'mar? The blue turned back to give the lead to his partner. Like G'ryl, D'mar too had seen better days...but he'd also seen worse ones, now. The blood in his eye had finally cleared, and though moving was still a stiff and painful endeavor, he was feeling more and more like himself. Every morning, seeing his new, scarred head in the reflection of the mirror...well. He'd move past that in time. "G'ryl," He greeted the fellow, glancing down at the scroll he had in hand. "Still debating wing formation, hmm? I'm afraid I'm going to have to rip your attention from that for a moment." He shifted the pot of sand in his hand, intentionally drawing attention to it before, slowly, holding it out in clear offering.
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Posted: Wed Jan 31, 2018 7:53 pm
Sarcoth warbled thoughtfully at the question his brother posed before hrumming, I believe so. It is the lore of before, anything we can dig up... and that the Harpers allow us access to, really. They're quite stingy in guarding the knowledge of the Weyr sometimes. Unfortunate, really, as I believe everyone would benefit from more robust education.The way the brown rose a bit and shifted the blanket, drew G'ryl's attention and he looked more closely at the approaching D'mar, one brow raised in surprise as he recognized the item in hand. He... he honestly had not put such gestures among D'mar's tendencies. “I... ah...” G'ryl rose slowly and approached, his expression somewhere between absolute gratefulness and disbelief. “Are... are you sure? I mean, really, it's a flit egg. Those aren't cheap and I just, really?” His expression was hopeful yet also half expecting some sort of catch. This was someone disused to gestured of kindness. Sarcoth padded up behind the new rider and headbutted him gently, rumbling with amusement, The answer is thank-you, mine.G'ryl blinked and nodded, blushing profusely as he reached out hesitantly, stumbling over his words, “Ah, I... Uhm, thank-you.” He bit his lip as he took the pot and peered at the small egg with intense curiosity. The brown, however, seemed rather pleased with the gift and swept a bow that even a Lord Holder would envy in thanks to his brother. You picked well, Strigonth, and such a fine eye for gifts of appreciation. We will remember this. You have my gratitude.
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Posted: Wed Mar 28, 2018 10:19 am
A whirl of blue-green pleasure stained Strigonth's twirling eyes. He really did find Sarcoth a worthy peer. A wingtip flicked again, in placating humility in the face of his sibling's thanks. Whom better to give the egg to? He and D'mar had been of a mind in their choice, and even now they were being proved right moreover. It will need a responsible keeper, and will be sibling to the one D'mar is keeping. We two are brothers, so why shouldn't our rider's companions be siblings, also? And they are useful things...if well-trained. The blue's mind cast back to memories of the brown, Half-Mark, that had sired the clutch. Their father has been a delightful help to my D'mar as he recovers. Clever little things, indeed.D'mar gave no external reaction to the way in which G'ryl took the offered egg. It was like the man had never been handed anything before in his life, but D'mar simply returned his outstretched arm to his side once the exchange was done, as if nothing at all was unusual about this scene. "It'll need kept warm, and turned regularly. The timing isn't ideal—one more thing to take care of, and if it grows up unruly the weyrlingmaster will have your hide, I would imagine—but they are useful." His eyes flicked down to the pot of sand, and back. "...And if you don't take it, I fear that I will continue to find it stashed in my boots by the parents, until an unseemly accident occurs." The blue at his side rumbled, almost startled by what was, apparently, D'mar making a joke. Deep affection washed from the dragon to the man. Though he'd never seen his D'mar's smile, the blue already missed it. He must be feeling much better to manage even that sort of nearly-dark humor. And if G'ryl and Sarcoth had anything to do with bringing more of that side of his rider out...well. Strigonth would just have to see about that. SkieBorne Lol YOU'RE sorry for the delay...! Nah for real though. I'm molasses, so it's all good. <3
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