Disclaimer – Settings and some characters are the property of Anne McCaffrey and I am making no profit from their use.
Dedicated to the memory of Dave Benson: writer, teacher, roleplayer, DM, lover of dragons, friend. Gone far too soon.
Joy
M'rand never enjoys Hatching days. He has his favourites and brown Ralenth has his and following the Impression is something close to agony. F'lar watches, Lessa watches, Robinton watches but they never see it how this pair have to.
The boy who half turns away from his brown in the first seconds. The man who gathers his blue into his arms, buries his head in the joint between body and wings to hide his shame. An imperious new bronze rider, pushing a green out of the way as they stumble towards the meat.
Everyone else sees joy. They see problems.
Noise
'Will you lot be quiet?' M'rand yells at the class.
What are they laughing about? Ralenth enquires.
I wish I knew. And ask F'lar to fly past the windows in about ten minutes, would you?
I will. Everyone is quiet for F'lar.
In the time that conversation takes, the Weyrlings finish laughing and are looking everywhere but at each other. Fine. Let it stay like that. By the time F'lar comes, they're involved in their anatomy lesson.
It's three days before M'rand finds the re-written song shoved in amongst his papers, and two days before he stops grinning about it.
Children
Do you mind, not siring a clutch? M'rand asks Ralenth as they stand alongside the lake and watch F'lar assessing the latest Weyrlings. There's a big bronze there, so like Mnenementh that it seems to hurt him. No greying skin or thickened neck, no scarring. Perfection, carried on.
Why should I? They are my queens, not my mates.
Your clutches would have been an asset, and M'rand wonders why he's feeling so wistful. Sometimes, I wish...
A young brown starts creeling; S'ran looks up and calls 'Sir!'
He runs. Ralenth hurries, saying quietly we both have many children here, M'rand.
Partner
Are you still busy? Ralenth asks softly. The boys are all asleep now.
Why aren't you?
A'lent's blue is itchy and Lamorth is feeling strange, but she doesn't know why.
I'm coming, and he drops the notes, hurries through to the dragons. Ralenth is pacing up and down the aisle, stopping to touch noses with the young blue.
Why didn't you call me earlier, you brown oaf?
Ralenth nuzzles him. They asked us to do this because we are a pair? I cannot do what you do, the writing, so I waited until that was done.
Together, they start work.