The 1st chapeter of a fic I've wanted to write for a long while. At first it was all just one big block of text... sorry, thanks for pointing that out!
She looked up across her corner of the deep brown shoulder, elbow-deep in sweet oil, smiling slightly as she watched F'nor darting playfully around Canth's whipping tail. The massive brown hummed contentedly, bobbing his great head like a cat, eye whirling in unadulterated pleasure at the feel of the two fire-lizards skidding up and down his neck-ridges, exfoliating the dry, dead flecks of hide, kneading the oily skin with their little talons. The hum was very deep, rumbling in his throat, reverberating in his massive chest; it poured deep into her, rattling the lappings of her bones slightly against muscle and sinew. The bronzed sun of the noon felt good against his skin, and the rocky gravel beneath. It was good, out here in the warm sun, with peace and laughter and friends. Out here, Brekke let her mind open up to that peace, hearing the little lizards' pleasure in the caressing each other's claws, the deep topaz river of draconic contentment from Canth. But she was Brekke, too, laughing with F'nor with warm spray around her ankles, smooth hide-oil on her hands, the sun and the brisk costal wind tumbling her dark curls. Yes, the sun was fine, here on the beach. Canth rumbled a chuckle when he caught her listening, and repeated the proclamation of content. Brekke laughed too, listening to the low growl of his hum.
With the sun dazzling on the salt water, Canth's brown hide was luminescent, almost. And the purr of that echoed in her chest like drumbeats on the Heights, like deep water, like premonition, concealed a shale edge in the sparkling granite cavern. The smile did not quite die from her face, here in the gold sunlight where F'nor was laughing, but that dull edge had emerged from its filmy casing, rubbing crossways on the inside of her breastbone. It was not like with queens, she knew, although she really didn't know very much. It was another of those things pushed beyond the edge of sight, so that Mirrim didn't worry, so that the lines around F'nor's eyes remained unpressed by care… so that she—least, most, of all—could pretend not to feel the empty, aching blackness in her soul. F'nor, and Canth, too, had worked so hard to heal that, with small gestures and unspoken words. He had often arranged for them to be far away when the greens rose; take a short jump between to Ista or Southern Boll. Like today. But even so far away as this, Brekke knew in her heart the rhythm that flicked Canth's tail and wove his blocky head was not the throb of amused contentment, but the pulse of a race many miles away. Brekke looked up to her weyrmate's averted eyes, and knew he'd been watching. Knew that he knew well enough what she would say; just didn't want to hear her be the one to say it.
She knew for males, it wasn't like a gold or a green, inexorable and completely primordial. They most often could take it or leave it, as chances came. But Canth had 'left it' more often than not... In fact, she couldn't even remember him ever rising after a green. Brekke forced herself not to bite her lip as she waited for F'nor to look up from his brown's silky haunch. "F'nor—" Her voice was soft, and she tried to keep it impassive, her mental tone loose and trivial. But Canth wasn't listening, and the slight quaver she couldn't quell, despite all her will, went unnoticed by the dragon. She saw the sudden tightness in F'nor's eyes, and knew he had heard it. F'nor bit his own lips and nodded, hesitant, but they both knew the brown would not be able—not for will, caring, love—to cheat rising for much longer.