[prp] The Cost of Second Chances [Ar'din/Nyara + dragons]

[Sweet Symmetry]

Quote:

Nyaranau [HR] - 19 - she/her/hers - Weyrling of Gold Mictecath

It was quiet- but not too quiet. The soft scratching of pen on paper filled the room with a busy kind of vibe. For once Nyaranau was not utterly distracted from her studies, plunged deep into the genealogies of Holders and gold dragons and clutches, not daring to look up in case she broke the spell somehow.

Mictecath, on the other hand, was attentive to the room they occupied. The common room played host to those pairs who found themselves with free time before curfew, and with very little to fill it with, for the most part. She liked to watch her siblings play and interact- sometimes moving to join them, other times just observing from their corner. She was proud of Nyara for taking her studies so seriously, but also concerned that she had forgotten how to socialise in the process. She was still as vibrant and as loving as the day they had met- but something had changed through Impression… she was growing more responsible, perhaps a touch more level-headed. It was good- but it also gave her pause.

There was a slight twinge of annoyance as she laid eyes on a particular bronzepair. The memories of the hatching had long-since faded from the dragon’s memory, but Nyara’s were etched in stone, and Mic recalled them well. That boy was trouble, and Alquemieth sometimes took it into his own head to mete out punishment and discipline where he saw fit. But the bronze had learnt, even if his rider needed a little more correction.

Alquemieth, I hope you are well this evening. She greeted him, her eyes a serene blue-green as she studied the pair. Nyara’s head bobbed up as she glanced over her shoulder from her work, an unusually bland, emotionless look on her face as she noted Ar’din’s presence. Then she turned back, wordlessly, and finished scribbling. Mic tugged a little, hoping she might be amenable to socialising, but was surprised to find Nyara resisting. Perhaps the woman really was determined to finish her studies? Or maybe there was something else, lingering beneath the facade of study… Mic couldn’t tell- if it was there, Nya had hidden it well.

medigel

 

[medigel]

He hated being there. He hated having to research, having to pour over books, having to read. It wasn’t that Arc wasn’t intelligent—he had proven his worth shadowing healers even before he became a weyrling, ignoring the dubious looks about his lack of hall training and particular specialty—but even with the remedial lessons being given, he couldn’t stand the act of sitting down and committing to hundreds of words for a candlemark. The act of not acting at all. It was funny given that the man was often more in his head than in reality unless pressed, but the sluggish pace he read at made him feel inadequate. Weak.

To train a sword arm, you must swing it. Practice, Mine, Alquemieth advised. You are not weak. You are merely catching up to the skills that should have been earned before. Do not be so harsh.

That’s rich, Ar’din replied with mental eye roll.

If it had been medically related books, maybe he wouldn’t have such an issue. But reading up on the histories of riders before him seemed pointless. If they were alive, he could just shadow them too. If they were dead, he could just get a quick summary if they really contributed to Pern society. And yet there he was at a table not far from Nyaranau, brow creased with concentration as he followed his finger along each line. The whispers about his conduct and that of his dragons has lessened only in volume, he was sure, and not in number. Ar’din suspected at least one person wouldn’t mind seeing him continue to fail.

Spite was his best motivator.

At Mic’s touch, Alquemieth raised his head. We are well, thank you, he said. And you and yours? I see she is also hard at work learning from her predecessors.

Sweet Symmetry

 

[Sweet Symmetry]

medigel

Mictecath measured word and tone, tilting her head in consideration of her bronze brother. Yes, his rider was trying harder, trying better... was this a thinly veiled attempt at masking the darkness of his heart? Or was this a truer self emerging at Alquemieth’s care and urging? I am glad to hear it. And there was a note of genuine pleasure in her voice, glad that they were well… She is studying hard. It is dull but necessary work. She would not divulge her rider’s own frustrations- this was a burden for the two of them to bear.

Still, it seemed like Nyara would crack first. She gave a groan, and rubbed her head against her fists. “This is such a waste of time. Who even cares…” The woman grumbled, breathing into the relief of the pressure against her eye sockets.

Oh dear... well, I suppose their classes are not enjoyable as ours. Mic spoke to Alque, a hint of humour in her voice as she nuzzled Nyara. How are you finding our lessons?  

[medigel]

Dull but necessary indeed. While Alquemieth considered himself an above average specimen in intelligence, he knew it was on his rider to remember it all: first names and history, then formations and coordinates, and soon enough how to handle each type of Threadfall in these or those conditions. And while he would help of course, the bronze was not one to coddle. He knew Ar’din was up to the task, and so he kept his patience tinged with the urge to keep moving ever forward.

Although...

Perhaps we should give them room, Alque suggested, already getting up. It was early still, but he was already starting to shoot up in height and length. Would you like an escort about the grounds, Mictecath? I can report as we do. It was an odd mixture of authority and reverence, of taking charge but deferring ultimately to the gold. She wasn’t Anakumath, whom he felt more inclined to be as a guard dog with, but nonetheless there would be eyes no matter where she was.

Ar’din, who looked up at Nyaranau’s little outburst, gave her a dull look before he returned to his work. That bored already, huh.

It is a matter of establishing rapport, Alque replied. Especially with your classmates.

Groaning, the scarred young man rolled up his scroll. Suffering a headache with someone else doesn’t make the headache go away, he said, but he made his way towards Nyaranau anyway.

Sweet Symmetry