It was an easy parting: just the blue stopping by at the end of the preparations, a peck on the cheek before he trundled out and his rider loaded up for the blink between. And Gwillanth had not begrudged him the trip. Pertemarth loved visiting his rider’s family, and he was owed the break -- wingriders rarely had the chance to vacation.
But she missed him. Gwillanth rested dispassionately in the Hatching Cavern, giving her eggs a bit of space this morning, her back against the cool cavern wall. The two were quite close -- some said too much so -- and even if they didn’t cross paths in a day their thoughts were rarely far from each other’s. Losing that for a sevenday left Gwillanth feeling like she was missing a wing.
Golds weren’t supposed to grow so attached to their lovers. Pining? for greens and blues, not stately golds. And so many had whispered over the turns that Gwillanth’s relationship with the blue-hided dragon was improper... and yet, she rolled her head at the quixotic thought, no one seemed to mind when greens staked claims on bronzes.
And though she tried not to think about it... Pertemarth being out of mind’s reach only reminded her of how deadly wingriding was, how her darling may cast out with his wing one day and never return.
Gwillanth sighed and turned her thoughts to Shayled. Perhaps her rider could be a suitable distraction from such gloomy ideas.
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Do you listen closely to Gwillanth’s errant thoughts, or ignore them? To what extent do they resonate with you, do they seem foreign, insightful, distant, worthwhile? Do you attempt to console her, or do you keep to yourself, and why? She raises a few ideas that you haven’t much information on yet: expectations and duties of different ranks, and expected social behavior. What are your initial thoughts?