2024-07-15 - [6.2] Political Sciences

Issrodeth is a stranger, even though she’s appeared around the edges of their lives for so long, and the cohort that flocks to her even more so. The bowl, unlike the sands, allows for even more dragons to loiter and lounge around the edges of the eggs like they’re a peculiar landmark to gather around and nothing more.

Don’t they remember being in their shells? How frustrating it is to have the world just outside their reach and never seen? They act like the eggs aren’t even there…

But they bring with them a wealth of information.

Courth practically rolls his egg over leaning into the conversation. Politics. It’s infuriating and fascinating – more fascinating with every passing day. Politics is what lets Igith talk with censure so easily, but also lets Issrodeth put her in her place. Both sit within a hierarchy of power despite being gold. It’s more than the ballads were capable of teaching, even though Courth still loves listening to the harper try and teach them.

All their arguments seemed to boil down to one simple concept: choice. His little storm mind swells with it even though he sways between the two points like an iron filing between two magnets. Igith was like them, trapped by choices because she didn’t have the power to break out of them – but she is gold! And not stuck in a shell! What does she have to complain about when she has the whole world to explore and claim as her own? And Issrodeth understands the weight of choice, why making a good one mattered This Weyrleader nonsense rests on her head, even if Valyth is the one giving the orders.

What is the actual answer? The truth in all of these? Isn’t there a singular, defining answer to all of this back and forth?

The idea that there isn’t is enough to make Courth run from the conversation back to his little catalogue of information.

‘D’ris – weyrleader, bossy…’