[PRP]Glittering Golds [Nyara/Marty + Dragons]

[demon_pachabel]

The downside of golds growing so fast was how much oiling they needed. I'm surprised they don't run out, Martirae mused to Anakumath, who sat patiently as the woman ran a brush over her hide. There was no oil yet, only rough bristles to flake off the already too old, too small skin. For all the time in the world it still didn't feel like enough time. But it was a perfect time for a woman and her dragon to just enjoy being near one another.

Not that all time wasn't the same, just a touch of a thought away.

"Mictecath is even bigger than Anakumath is, Nyara. Is she eating enough?" a sprouting dragon always needed to eat more, and Mictecath was growing faster than the rest of them - though if that bone-y build was natural or just her outgrowing her stores was quite the question. Anakumath was simply pleased Marty was getting comfortable enough with her fellow rider to initiate such casual of a conversation.

Of course, she knew there was no way Mictecath would be left wanting.

Yours certainly isn't lacking appetite. I think my Martirae needs to eat more for this cold weather. Does yours handle the winter well?

Sweet Symmetry

 

[Sweet Symmetry]

Sitting and being bathed was enjoyable, Mictecath thought. Nyara was not troubled by the extra amount of dragon, either- both she and her sister-cousin-Queen were outstripping most of their brethren by a rate of knots. She gave a contented sigh as her rider found a particularly itchy spot, and tilted her head in pleasure. One of life’s simpler pleasures… Mic murmured to Ana, faceted sea-blue eyes concealed beneath layers of protective lids.

Nyara was nothing if not passionate and energetic about her duties. Some, yes, she could happily do without (dragon dung was just about the worst thing on Pern, she was sure of it), but most of the time, being a weyrling was infinitely better than being a candidate, or anything else, really. She smiled as Marti began to speak, the scrubbing brush hovering inches away from the pale golden hide.

“Mic does look slightly bigger…” Nyara answered with a nod, taking a slight step back to study her dragon. “But she definitely looks somewhat more gaunt than Ana.” The bushy-haired young woman frowned, stepping forwards to rub Mic’s slender headknobs in a gesture of love and affection. Mic did not seem perturbed by the analysis, turning her contented gaze on Marti for a moment or two. I am never left hungry, but I must thank you for your concern. Her voice held poise and gentleness both.

Nyara shrugged her shoulders a little. “Perhaps I ought to encourage her to take a bit more next time? I have a better idea of when she'll be crossing into overeating territory, unlike those hatchling days... I don’t know…” Nyara gave a small sigh, falling back into the rhythm of brushing off dead skin. “You see it in runners, sometimes. Some are just built a little leggier than others. Could be Mic’s case.” Her bright smile returned, and she glanced over her shoulder back at Marti. “Ana’s looking really good. She’s shaping up to be a very fine dragon.” It was hard not to look at Ana and fall in love- although Nyara’s heart belonged very firmly to Mictecath.

At Anakumath’s question, Mic turned her head slightly, her mindvoice a touch pensive. My dearest, silly rider did catch a cold a few sevendays back. I barely remember it- but she has a lot of energy. That seems to fight off the worst of the weather’s more pestilent offerings. Mictecath gave a small snort of draconic laughter, stretching her wings so Nyara could inspect them more closely. Yours does not seem ill? If you’re worried, perhaps we could organise scheduled dinner dates for our riders… I hear people eat a lot at these things.

demon_pachabel

 

[demon_pachabel]

The smaller of the sisters bowed her head so that Martirae could scrub gently around her headknobs, switching to a much softer brush as to keep from scraping up the delicate skin of Anakumath's head. Already from nose to the tips of her headknobs her head was already larger than Marty's head and ribcage combined and it was a marvel all over again that she'd once been so small as to be carried.

When she was content with the results, she stroked a hand along Anakumath's eyeridge and looked towards Mictecath. "That could be so. Maybe I am just used to looking at Anakumath," it was no secret and no shame that she was obviously a bit chubbier than most, if not all, of her clutchmates. Who could blame her for only having eyes for, as far as Marty was concerned, the most beautiful of dragons on Pern? "They'll both be very fine dragons," she agreed.

And perhaps now Mictecath didn't have to ask if she was truly okay.

Oh, that is no good! Already yellow eyes whirled somehow more yellow at word that Nyara had been sick - but it was perhaps a side effect of her bond with Martirae. Even the slightest sniffles had her upset in ways that only context could explain. That she hadn't come down ill with some High Reaches brand ill was a miracle. Anakumath offered one leg as Marty checked over her claws, her brow set perhaps a bit too seriously.

My Martirae came from the Western Continent and is used to far warmer weather. She does not want to draw concern by overdressing for the cold and I worry she will make herself sick if she does not compensate by eating more. It is a strain to silently shiver out of pride. Purple flecked through those yellow eyes as she looked at the woman in question. She did love the certainty that came with that pride, after all. I'm sure it would be easier on mine to have familiar company, at the very least.

Sweet Symmetry

The 'Mictecath didn't have to ask if she was truly okay' is a reference to the Touching, in case you were wondering.

 

[Sweet Symmetry]

Mictecath turned swirling eyes on Martirae once more, as Nyara worked meticulously around the wing joints, sloughing off dead skin. Her thoughts were troubled, reflected in the red flickers of her eyes. You seem to have given our dear, sweet Ana a reason for concern. Perhaps this is something that requires more of your attention. There was a hint of sternness in her voice, and the young woman pursed her lips.

“Mic.” There was a note of warning in Nyaranau’s voice, and she tilted her head at her dragon, her eyes shifting to Marty to gauge how irritated the woman might have become. “Remember what we said about telling others what to do?”

Turning away, Mic watched the lake for a moment. I apologise. But please, do come have dinner with us. My rider enjoys studying and eating at the same time. The lesson-reward system works quite well. Ana, have you tried roasted wherry sandwiches? Delectable!

Nyaranau grinned, grabbing a cloth to begin working oil into the driest patches. “She’s stubborn, but she may have a point. Company is always good, and studying together might help us in the long run.” Nyaranau’s grin was bright and cheerful, as per her norm. The opportunity of getting to know Marty better was one that she didn't want to pass up- the young woman seemed to prefer being alone, and Nyara rather thought she needed more friends.

demon_pachabel

 

[demon_pachabel]

"Excuse me?" any mildness Martirae had offered immediately honed into a sharp guard, her upper lip curling slightly at Mictecath's insinuation. It didn't settle when Nyara spoke up, instead her too-fiercely set expression hid itself in focus that was set upon Anakumath.

The smaller of the gold's eyes whirled somehow even more yellow at her rider's irritation, leaning her head up against the young woman's. Anakumath would have laid out across all of those sharp barbs just to be close, even if she was never at risk of them. For a moment, the two were silent in a conversation between each other - not an unfamiliar sight, all in all.

"I'm not keen on keeping company that is judging how I handle Mine or Myself," Martirae spoke up after a moment, still frowning. She didn't dislike Nyara, but the bitter taste in her mouth hadn't abated so quickly as it had settled in. But, Anakumath cut in, all soft edges in counter to her hard-hearted chosen, dinner is a good time to make sure neither of us has overlooked anybody who may need a second pair of eyes on them. It was more directed at her rider, than her cousin or Nyara, but the point still stood that she was interested in the idea.

There was another long silence as the two looked between each other. "Fine. We can see how it goes," she relented, though not enthusiastically.

Sweet Symmetry