Logs:A Good Clutch
| |
|---|
| RL Date: 8 May, 2009 |
| Who: K'del |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: What life is like, for K'del, post-clutching. |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Milani/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions, Yuliye/Mentions |
| The influx of candidates excited and delighted Cadejoth, who gave seemingly constant updates about the numbers, and where they'd come from, and who they were, based on whatever he could glean from the dragons around him. He spent a lot of time watching the eggs from the ledges, constantly rebuffed by Iovniath, but still, ever hopeful of being allowed just that little bit closer. His eggs, his candidates. His pack. K'del found it all a bit depressing, actually. Most of the candidates, it seemed, were older than him, some of them considerably so. He felt... judged, somehow, even more than he did with the riders old enough to be his parents, or even grandparents. For the most part, he found himself avoiding them, trying not to interact too much in the hopes that, perhaps, his mythical status might lend him something closer to respect. They were everywhere, though: it was impossible to avoid them entirely. And, anyway, that whole mythical status thing? Totally bullshit, when it came down to it. Despite his enthusiasm for the eggs, Cadejoth was restless, and that bled over into his rider. How often had he suggested a trip here or there, somewhere outside the weyr walls? Each time, Cadejoth refused: his eggs needed him. He had to stay nearby. It was maddening, dealing with the duality of it, the wanting to go, but being unwilling to, and the constant antsy restlessness he had to deal with as a result. Nor had Cadejoth shown any signs of being worth anything as a search dragon, though admittedly, K'del found that kind of relieving. That would end up being just another stressor, he was sure of it. Better to let everyone else worry about that, and he'd worry about the weyr, and Crom, and-- Crom. Which meant Yuliye. Who was... Tiriana was right on one thing: Yuliye was dangerous. But intoxicatingly so. And made moreso by Tiriana's attitude; somehow, everything was made more delicious by knowing that he had a secret from her, that he was doing exactly what she didn't want him to do, right under her nose. Somehow, it made it easier to deal with her, too: like at any time, he could say, "We're going to do this because I said so, and, by the way, I'm totally fucking Yuliye." Yes, okay, even the thought of saying that gave him a hard-on. So what? Nothing wrong with it. He wasn't going to say it, but thinking about it? Nothing wrong with that. His conversation with Milani - weeks and weeks ago, now - had given him some reason to believe that maybe, one day, she might be willing to share his bed again, and that was a nice thought. He'd like that. But, realistically? It wasn't as though he was going without. Not that he had, since weyrlinghood, but... Shells, he was kicking girls out sometimes, like that awful Elma, who'd just shown up, naked, expecting him to-- it never really occurred to him that this was more or less what Yuliye had done, too: he wasn't interested in Elma, and that made it annoying. The end of summer, the approaching winter, that depressed him, too. At least it would only be a couple of months before the eggs hatched, Two, maybe. Something like that. And then - things would get back to normal. As normal as they were anymore, but still: normal. Besides, he was impatient, for the hatching. He had high hopes for those eggs. Let it be a good clutch, he wished, desperately. Let Tiriana be happy with it. Let it make us look good. As a weyr, as weyrleaders. As everything. Please. And so, life continued. |
Leave A Comment