Post by Echo on Apr 10, 2009 1:52:37 GMT -8
Despite the fact there was chaos brewing at Crystal Waters these days, W'can did all right. It didn't concern him, these whispers of a rebellion and one gold dragon not liking the other, some woman being hot under the head about her treatment. None of that mattered anymore. In the old days he might have taken a side but now he had earned his rest, and it didn't matter. Somebody would wind up in charge and the rest would either accept her or leave or whatever they were going to do. That was how new Weyrs were founded after all, the Weyr got too full of dragons so some of them moved. Candoth and he were taking their ease at the Weyrlakes, relaxing and watching fire-lizards splash in the shallows.
He still had his dragon and that was all that mattered. They had food and his blue wasn't so old he couldn't hunt for them both if they needed more. True, the supplies in the Kitchens had dwindled but order was being restored slowly and there were young people here and there to work on that. Though it was very disconcerting to have so much tension in the Weyr, the old dragonrider figured as long as his Candoth was still alive they would do fine.
Speaking of the old dragon... he was passed out on the path leading from the Lake to the Weyrbowl, sprawled out with his hind legs crossed and his head resting on a boulder. Somehow it was comfortable. Probably because the sun sapped all his energy and left him laying on the ground in a lump. He was snorting rather loudly, but it comforted his rider, told him the blue was still alive. His hide was pale and wrinkled from so much age, he was more than eight decades old after all, a long time for a dragon and even longer for his rider.
Of course thinking Caldonth was going to die anytime soon was silly, he would live as long as W'can did. The old man closed his eyes too, resting his head against his dragon's flank as he listened to the wind whistling through the vegetation and the chittering of the fire-lizards. Somewhere there was some kind of practice going on - wing practice maybe. Dull as his hearing was, he couldn't hear the others but he knew they were out there.
He still had his dragon and that was all that mattered. They had food and his blue wasn't so old he couldn't hunt for them both if they needed more. True, the supplies in the Kitchens had dwindled but order was being restored slowly and there were young people here and there to work on that. Though it was very disconcerting to have so much tension in the Weyr, the old dragonrider figured as long as his Candoth was still alive they would do fine.
Speaking of the old dragon... he was passed out on the path leading from the Lake to the Weyrbowl, sprawled out with his hind legs crossed and his head resting on a boulder. Somehow it was comfortable. Probably because the sun sapped all his energy and left him laying on the ground in a lump. He was snorting rather loudly, but it comforted his rider, told him the blue was still alive. His hide was pale and wrinkled from so much age, he was more than eight decades old after all, a long time for a dragon and even longer for his rider.
Of course thinking Caldonth was going to die anytime soon was silly, he would live as long as W'can did. The old man closed his eyes too, resting his head against his dragon's flank as he listened to the wind whistling through the vegetation and the chittering of the fire-lizards. Somewhere there was some kind of practice going on - wing practice maybe. Dull as his hearing was, he couldn't hear the others but he knew they were out there.