2024-08-05 - Aftermath

"REALLY, Ertineth, you'd think you didn't want to be found up here!"

The immature roar came first, accompanying the thought; both were followed shortly by panting and struggling little weyrling, struggling to heft herself up over the edge of the rock up onto the plateau - even in spite of her bulky little frame. Climbing a mesa was no small feat, especially for a growing dragonet.

The tone of her voice nevertheless held no ignorance; quite the contrary, it was almost downright playful. Ertineth narrowed their eyes.

"What are you doing up here, little one?" Withering envy could not, perhaps, be extended to a dopey little dragonet. She would learn, eventually, surely.

Rioth scoffed. "Watchdragon duty? I figured you were lonely. Horribly quiet up here, too. Do you have any food?"

"ILRIOOOOOOOTH!"

The poor blue was heralded by a joyous bugle, one echoed in her mental melody - and when Rioth got near enough, she nearly bowled them over with the happy force of her bunting into his side, and then another, far more gentle bunt forehead-to-forehead. If Ilrioth hadn't already been used to Rioth's type of greeting, they might've indeed toppled!

"Your Z'ren's walking the tables?" Z'ren was one of the few humans Rioth remembered with a proper name, rather than a nickname. "So is Sasshi! Show me what you've got for your song so far, I've got a couple for mine ready. too..."

For as much as Rioth loved to Rise - and perhaps delighted in allowing a chosen few to win her time and again, to the delirious and delighted gossip of her fellow dragons, it was nothing compared to the joy of winning a flight.

For this was giddy chase, a colorful and crowded spectacle in the sky, browns, bronzes and even a few blues aloft in a glorious game of melodious tag.

And she caught her quarry fair and square. Sasshi wouldn't have a taste of Weyrleadership - Zulath was yet a junior queen, even younger than Rioth - but that was second to the game, and everyone had plenty of time.

Brown neck and tail curled around gold and Rioth's heart sang out in pure joy as the pair dropped in glorious freefall.

The snaps of displaced air heralded the return from that morning's Threadfall - far too early to signal its end - and far too few to signal the return of the fighting wings.

And among those returning, panting and frothing and buoyed by a pair of blues, her left wing completely mangled and smeared in gore, was Rioth.

Those of the infirmary had flocked towards the survivors, dragons and humans a flurry of needles and salves and numbweed.

Sasshi had dismounted, straps shredded, her own scoring light in comparison, and rushed to hold her brown's gigantic snout and stroke it as she once had when her dragon was a hatchling, sobbing into her forehead.

And for the first time in her life, Rioth was completely silent.

"Why wouldn't you wish to stay? They are yours. Besides," and Zulath cocked her head, cheerily. "Gyolinth and I need to stretch our wings."

Another time and place, Rioth would have jumped at the chance. She had been lovingly pestering the gold about it since their Flight, and was rebuffed by gentle teasing and vague hums of "Someday~" every time.

"It's just! I...not like this. Not because of pity." A wingleader without a wing was not much of anything.

But she wasn't nothing. Ilrioth had been adamant.Zulath had been adamant. Sasshi had been adamant. She had caught Zulath. These were her children. And while she had not laid them, that didn't make them any less hers.

If Zulath could have rolled her eyes, she would have done it. "It's convalescence, Rioth. Not pity. Come on over." She stepped backward, delicately. "Listen."

And if Rioth even thought she could argue, it would've been too late anyway; with that command of 'listen,' - to the eggs? - Zulath was up and out of the sands, leaving the brown alone with her thoughts.

Slowly, biting down on a shout, Rioth turned back to the eggs.

She remembered how Yuakajth had felt, that they were prizes, or accomplishments. And disappointments, when they hatched. She shook her head.

And she listened, with a whisper of memory that Rioth wasn't sure was completely imagination. There was something happening in each one; Rioth could not understand now, but that didn't mean she hadn't, once. Or wouldn't.

She imagined that they were whispering to each other, poking around with their budding little minds. This egg could be a bard like Ilrioth or a tunnelsnake like Seth. Any of them could be anyone.

Rioth crouched to examine each egg, and turned and touched them and ensured they were hale before settling down with utmost care, tail curling in a broad loop around all of the eggs.

Blue, brown, green and bronze, and she loved them all. Tentatively she flexed the fingers of her mangled wing and carefully stretched it over the eggs, warm and present, singing something soft and low she had made with Ilrioth.

She was, she is SHE, infinitely and boundlessly, everything.