Post by glamourie on Apr 14, 2009 18:32:32 GMT -5
Up, up, up. It stung to beat his wings upward after her, but Checkoth did not relent; it didn’t matter, that hurting. He would happily have endured more, much more, to keep up with the beauty before him. What was a little pain? Something in the back of his mind (R’wign, perhaps?) told him that nothing worth having or doing ever came easily, and Checkoth was happy to find that nothing about the flight could be described as such. From the twists and turns which stung, the brown weyrling just knew that Oquith was the single best green ever to hatch. She wasn’t easy and she wasn’t mean. She was challenging, beautiful and nice. None of the other greens could be described that way, could they? Checkoth didn’t think so, but then, he didn’t think there was any green on Pern as special as Oquith. Or any dragon for that matter. She was a thing apart, she stood (or flew, rather) alone. With each passing second, that sense of almost-worship increased. So graceful she was, even though she did not seem to realize it, and so patient to tolerate the bronze weyrling’s intrusion; he was betting most greens would have been angry with the baby dragon for his audacity, but not patient, sweet, kind Oquith, no, she was forgiving, tolerant even. She was most definitely the best.
Why was she making such sad noises, though? A worried croon, almost inaudible, lingered in his throat. Only those nearest to him would hear, perhaps her, perhaps another; he did not like to imagine the wonderful dancer in pain. Was there nothing he could do to ease that pain? Yes, his own wings hurt, but that didn’t matter, didn’t matter one little bit - all that mattered was that she was hurting and he was a fixer, he was; couldn’t he do something to help her? Dozens of worried thoughts whirled through his mind. Even as she leveled off to glide (a relief on his wings if ever there was one; the cool morning air was a wonderful contrast to the burn he was feeling), Checkoth stared after her. He didn’t know how to fix it, but he wanted more than anything to do just that. Poor, wonderful Oquith, she didn’t deserve to hurt.
As her flying faltered slightly, concern flared through and mingled with the violet of his eyes and Checkoth flapped his wings frantically to keep up. But then she was rising, faster than he could and his worry became more pronounced - until suddenly she was above them. Then all at once, he felt her fall amongst them, her claws latching onto him and instinct took over. His wings flared as wide as possible and he turned slightly, just enough to level the two of them out - holding both himself and Oquith in the air. His tail twined with hers as he forced up extra strength from - somewhere, he didn’t know where. Desperation? Need? Natural instinct? Whatever it was, he knew only in that second that it was very important that he keep them both in the air, that he be strong enough for himself and for Oquith because she needed him. Checkoth was determined not to let the wonderful beauty down. He held her with as much force as he could, and all of the pain in his wings was forgotten - at least temporarily.
Beautiful Oquith, I will never let you fall.
What little awareness that he’d maintained throughout the majority of the flight promptly vanished. The stone walls were replaced with the freedom of open air, and the confusing sense of Tr’esn-Oquith not being exactly the same was shattered with a total apathy to that fact: his green, she was, and she was the most beautiful green to ever hatch. She’d picked him and that made him feel giddy, like he was on top of the world. Her pleading, though, was alarming, and R’wign wound both of his arms around Tr’esn’s torso to pull him up into a standing position, the two of them pressed firmly together so that the pretty, pretty green could lean on him. Everyone and everything else around him was forgotten, his arms lingering with force enough that it was impossible for the smaller boy to fall. He was tall enough to balance the two of them out. One hand lifted, moving up to Tr’esn’s face to brush away his hair from his eyes; that one touch was almost gentle in affection, and far more familiar than anything R’wign would ever have offered Tr’esn.
“I’d never, ever let you fall,” he whispered in a voice not entirely his own; certainly there was more innocence in those few words than R’wign ever spoke with before. Nonetheless. as his hand dropped down to twine his fingers with the greenrider’s, it couldn’t be doubted as to the sincerity of his words. “Not now - not ever…”
Why was she making such sad noises, though? A worried croon, almost inaudible, lingered in his throat. Only those nearest to him would hear, perhaps her, perhaps another; he did not like to imagine the wonderful dancer in pain. Was there nothing he could do to ease that pain? Yes, his own wings hurt, but that didn’t matter, didn’t matter one little bit - all that mattered was that she was hurting and he was a fixer, he was; couldn’t he do something to help her? Dozens of worried thoughts whirled through his mind. Even as she leveled off to glide (a relief on his wings if ever there was one; the cool morning air was a wonderful contrast to the burn he was feeling), Checkoth stared after her. He didn’t know how to fix it, but he wanted more than anything to do just that. Poor, wonderful Oquith, she didn’t deserve to hurt.
As her flying faltered slightly, concern flared through and mingled with the violet of his eyes and Checkoth flapped his wings frantically to keep up. But then she was rising, faster than he could and his worry became more pronounced - until suddenly she was above them. Then all at once, he felt her fall amongst them, her claws latching onto him and instinct took over. His wings flared as wide as possible and he turned slightly, just enough to level the two of them out - holding both himself and Oquith in the air. His tail twined with hers as he forced up extra strength from - somewhere, he didn’t know where. Desperation? Need? Natural instinct? Whatever it was, he knew only in that second that it was very important that he keep them both in the air, that he be strong enough for himself and for Oquith because she needed him. Checkoth was determined not to let the wonderful beauty down. He held her with as much force as he could, and all of the pain in his wings was forgotten - at least temporarily.
Beautiful Oquith, I will never let you fall.
What little awareness that he’d maintained throughout the majority of the flight promptly vanished. The stone walls were replaced with the freedom of open air, and the confusing sense of Tr’esn-Oquith not being exactly the same was shattered with a total apathy to that fact: his green, she was, and she was the most beautiful green to ever hatch. She’d picked him and that made him feel giddy, like he was on top of the world. Her pleading, though, was alarming, and R’wign wound both of his arms around Tr’esn’s torso to pull him up into a standing position, the two of them pressed firmly together so that the pretty, pretty green could lean on him. Everyone and everything else around him was forgotten, his arms lingering with force enough that it was impossible for the smaller boy to fall. He was tall enough to balance the two of them out. One hand lifted, moving up to Tr’esn’s face to brush away his hair from his eyes; that one touch was almost gentle in affection, and far more familiar than anything R’wign would ever have offered Tr’esn.
“I’d never, ever let you fall,” he whispered in a voice not entirely his own; certainly there was more innocence in those few words than R’wign ever spoke with before. Nonetheless. as his hand dropped down to twine his fingers with the greenrider’s, it couldn’t be doubted as to the sincerity of his words. “Not now - not ever…”