Post by reqqy on Sept 29, 2008 20:23:23 GMT -5
Though the bronze was not one to form attachments in the same manner as humans (or Aslath) he could not stand to see her so distressed. He felt ReiMine's mental presence increase, but the man said nothing against it, did not try to stop him. They weren't supposed to say. Salenth hovered, indecisive. Ciceroth's didn't wish us to say anything. He...was worried that some might learn and try to... Eh. The bronze became very serious, taking a different tack. If Yours was to ever repeat this, and the northern weyrs learn of it, they may wish to obtain me and Mine to see if they can learn the secret. We accidentally went back many turns before you were hatched, when we went Between. And it took us four turns to figure out how to get back to this time.
In silence, he listened, sensing ReiMine's attention increasing with the passing moments. They could not shield one another from anything. It was - barely - possible to ignore what was happening with the other if they really tried, but not to hide anything. You can't blame yourself for what you honestly believed, Salenth told His, trying his best to be reassuring. Aslath really believes...but if that's so, then I... The bronze said nothing. She shouldn't have been there, but to think I was so harsh with her. A dragon can sometimes misinterpret things, Mine. You need to talk to her. Nothing in response but brooding silence.
Salenth looked down at the huddled gold, uncertain. She looked all too despondent. He settled on his haunches, sliding his tail over hers rather tentatively. Normally he wouldn't have dared. But...her distress was overcoming his natural wariness. We all played our part, Aslath. You can only take responsibility for your own actions - not the reactions of the people and dragons around you. This was true enough. Salenth would never claim responsibility for Aslath's blowing up, though he could understand it on some level now.
The man had climbed to his feet, settling his daughter in the crook of his arm as he fought to overcome a wave of dizziness. He closed his eyes for a moment, running his hand before his face. S'rei didn't know how to approach Shmee. He didn't know how to even broach the topic of the Flight and...I'mny? Yes, I'mny. It didn't change anything. Shmee had still dismissed him - even punished him - for his distress, and had subsequently engaged in many activities that made it clear that her concern for him was...minimal at best. That was not love as he understood it. That was simply using him. But, in the end, S'rei was a fair man. He had to know if her story was true after all...and if it was...he would at least apologize for how he'd behaved and try to be as supportive as...well, as his own hurt would allow him to be.
That much he owed the mother of his Shei.
But when he came to stand in the doorway, and his eyes fell on Shmee, he found he could not speak. S'rei merely leaned against the frame and stared at her, his brow furrowed. He was completely at a loss.
In silence, he listened, sensing ReiMine's attention increasing with the passing moments. They could not shield one another from anything. It was - barely - possible to ignore what was happening with the other if they really tried, but not to hide anything. You can't blame yourself for what you honestly believed, Salenth told His, trying his best to be reassuring. Aslath really believes...but if that's so, then I... The bronze said nothing. She shouldn't have been there, but to think I was so harsh with her. A dragon can sometimes misinterpret things, Mine. You need to talk to her. Nothing in response but brooding silence.
Salenth looked down at the huddled gold, uncertain. She looked all too despondent. He settled on his haunches, sliding his tail over hers rather tentatively. Normally he wouldn't have dared. But...her distress was overcoming his natural wariness. We all played our part, Aslath. You can only take responsibility for your own actions - not the reactions of the people and dragons around you. This was true enough. Salenth would never claim responsibility for Aslath's blowing up, though he could understand it on some level now.
The man had climbed to his feet, settling his daughter in the crook of his arm as he fought to overcome a wave of dizziness. He closed his eyes for a moment, running his hand before his face. S'rei didn't know how to approach Shmee. He didn't know how to even broach the topic of the Flight and...I'mny? Yes, I'mny. It didn't change anything. Shmee had still dismissed him - even punished him - for his distress, and had subsequently engaged in many activities that made it clear that her concern for him was...minimal at best. That was not love as he understood it. That was simply using him. But, in the end, S'rei was a fair man. He had to know if her story was true after all...and if it was...he would at least apologize for how he'd behaved and try to be as supportive as...well, as his own hurt would allow him to be.
That much he owed the mother of his Shei.
But when he came to stand in the doorway, and his eyes fell on Shmee, he found he could not speak. S'rei merely leaned against the frame and stared at her, his brow furrowed. He was completely at a loss.