[PRP] A Story of Us (Zh'gan/Manahahtath & R'thell/Triesteth)

[Samuel Carlin]

There were lessons to learn. There were always lessons to learn, it seemed. An endless array of information that Zh'gan had never really thought about, despite having grown up surrounded by dragons and riders alike.

Some of the lessons were more interesting than others, of course. Being someone not all that inclined to sitting and reading much of everything, history had never really been a favorite of Zh'gan's.

And yet here they were, loading up on the history of dragonkind. It could have been worse. It could have been the history of recipes. A thought that made Zh'gan's stomach rumble. A rumble that made Manahahtath tilt his head curiously at his rider.

Breakfast was a long time ago, Zh'gan answered the look with the mental equivalent of a shrug. Besides, I already know you're not a wher. Not even close. Way better than a wher.

Now the bronze rumbled on his own, amused. Yes, of course we are, he agreed. That was never in question. But whers have their place and we will eat again, if we pay attention, I think.

The dragon's interest was definitely being better held than his rider's. Zh'gan looked around the class, then oh-so-subtly leaned toward R'thell and whispered, "Do you think they make the wher handlers study this stuff too?"

Uta

Trouble in the making, go!

 

[Uta]

The lesson wasn't boring, per say, but even R'thell could only be expected to pay attention for so long. The allure of Impression hadn't warn off at all, and he found himself far more easily distracted by Triesteth. Even when he needed to be focused on the lesson at hand, he found himself thinking of her beautiful hide, and how she always seemed to make his heart melt.

This lesson, in particular, wasn't exactly new. He had learned some of it from his Turns as a Candidate and living at the Weyr--so it was far easier to let his mind wander. Some of it was certainly interesting, but others, not so much. All he wanted to do was to be released from the classroom, and get to spend time with Triesteth. He still fussed over her wing, and her itching sometimes was maddening. He could only imagine what those with browns, bronzes, and golds were going through.

It was with some surprise, though, that one of his fellow weyrlings whispered something to him. "Hmm?" His thoughts were immediately thrown back to the classroom, and he caught the tail-end of Zh'gan's query. They were far enough back he was confident he might be able to whisper without drawing much attention. "Doubt it," he mused. "I don't think their training is quite as formal as this, or as intense." Honestly, R'thell had no idea what wherhandlers learned. The wherhandler back at his cothold was an old, grizzled man with a just as grizzled beast. It scared him as boy, just as it was known to scare some of the runners, but it also didn't come out often during the day. A wher was certainly no dragon, after all.

What are whispering about? Can I whisper too? Triesteth asked both R'thell and Zh'gan, in her softest mind-voice possible. The little green wanted to be included in everything Hers' was up to--and the lessons had gone well over her head already. This seemed like a much more fun thing to do.

Samuel Carlin