| Chase! |
| Soaring along on Pikarth's neck was the easiest thing in the world to do. S'tol could spend hours with his brown, just floating along the wind. The two had taken to the air with little assistance, and couldn't be persuaded to stop flying. S'tol? Pikarth's easy voice asked, and the S'tol-now nearly twenty turns, smiled. "You want to chase!" The rider exclaimed, and Pikarth rumbled easily as he dove lazily for the ground. They were heading for their favourite spot, a quiet lake about three miles from the very Weyr where they had Impressed. It was right after S'tol sickness that he decided he just couldn't stay at Beach Shards. He loved the place, and at least was glad to be in a place where his family had been, but he couldn't stay. Being there with Testa was too stressfull, and to know that he was just following in his mother's footsteps was worse. He had to leave. Being sick for a three sevenday had given him plenty of time to realize that. The Healer's still didn't know what had caused it.... Anyway, he had left, and he'd found another Weyr that seemed right to him. DawnSisters it was called, but that didn't matter, he'd found a place to plan his own future. But he and Pikarth were still restless. And S'tol was sure this time it was Pikarth's influence over the pair, and not his own, that caused this. He immediatly identified the cause, and now Pikarth had too. That's part of the reason why S'tol was bringing Pikarth "home" to Beach Shards that day-he knew his brown wanted to give chase, and it would be easier for Pikarth to chase in a place he knew well. S'tol was even wondering what it'd be like if Pikarth won, and he was with a girl.... For nearly three turns in a Weyr, S'tol had yet to "be with" anybody else. He'd had no lovers, no casual flings, no one night stands, no nothing. The other brownriders teased him mercilessly. S'tol didn't care-he didn't want to get some woman pregnant with a child she didn't want and would have to be sent away. You only say that because that happened to you. Pikarth told him, as he glided smoothly to a stop and landed. S'tol was still amazed at how much gracefulness the large brown had. "True enough. But I still wouldn't wish that on anyone else- and I just don't have the time to raise children!" S'tol exclaimed, and the brown rumbled with dragon laughter. Children take no time. They are born, they live. It is simple. It is for the best. Pikarth said, and S'tol shook his head as he dismounted, leaping smoothly to the ground. "Maybe for dragons, love, but people children take nearly twelve years before they aren't any trouble. And if they don't Impress, they take longer." What if they don't want to Impress? Pikarth asked, sniffing the air deeply. "Who wouldn't want to Impress? Any child of mine, raised in the Weyr, woudl surely..." You were raised at a Craft, by that man, and you didn't want that for yourself. You wanted me. Pikarth claimed proudly, and stepped into the lake water. S'tol stared after him, and then shrugged. "True enough I suppose. Speaking of which, we need to go pay my father another visit this sevenday. I hope you don't mind-but he hasn't seen you in nearly six months! And you've grown so." S'tol made himself comfortable, nestling between rocks with a blanket he'd brought, and watched Pikarth float about. "Why don't you dive? The weather won't hold out much longer, and then you won't be able to really swim at all." I'll do as I like. The brown retorted, and sunk his head under the water to blow up bubbles. S'tol laughed, and thought about Jeyrat. The man hadn't been pleased at all to learn of what his "son" had done, but S'tol didn't mind. Jeyrat didn't have a claim to him any more than Testa did. That was Testa's main problem, S'tol discovered, that she tried to keep him with her the way Jeyrat had. Suddenly Pikarth's torso splashed up from the water, and the brown trumpeted loudly. S'tol grimaced, knowing that sound. "So soon?" He asked, and the brown keened anxiously. No. But in a little while. I think I need to dry now-I don't want to be wet for the chase! And Pikarth climbed out of the water and stretched out on the sunniest part of the bank. "Who's rising?" S'tol asked casually, hoping it was a dragon with a rider who wouldn't mind the, unexperienced. Emynth. Pikarth said lovingly, and bugled his challenge again. S'tol thought for a moment, and smiled. Emynth was a green-gold, rising for the first time, perhaps he'd be lucky with her rider, what was her name?, ah yes, Quaira. "Well Pik, I suppose of we're going to Tiynarea for a chase, we'd better leave now. You're dry enough anyway." And S'tol mounted his brown and the two dissappeared between to go give chase at Tiynarea. |
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