T'rin let Ingonth shred three of his favorite blankets before stepping in. The first two had been ripped into meticulous strips and strewn about the ledge he shared with his sister, but this last one was nothing more than a heap of frayed yarn at present, and it was being reduced further as T'rin watched. He approached his dragon slowly, resting a hand on Ingonth's shoulder as he spoke.
There will come a time when you regret being so destructive. I don't want to hear about it when you do. It was just banter, the same sorts of biting words they always exchanged, but today they felt a bit harsh. T'rin tempered the sting with a mental squeeze.
You might not want to, but you will. You'll hear about my ruined capes until the day we're struck down by Thread or lost Between or we succumb to whatever other horrible death chromatic dragons are expected to endure.
Ingonth. You don't believe that's how we'll end.
It's certainly what everyone else thinks.
And when has that ever mattered? What everyone else thinks?Never. It still doesn't. He rip rip ripped at his former blanket, eyes swirling red despite the satisfaction he wrung from the act. But what I believe won't stop the others from forgetting him. He's just another blue with a rider who made a mistake.
T'rin drew closer, curling his arm over Ingonth's back. "I told her not to worry." It was apparent when he spoke why he was mostly sticking to mindspeech. "I can't help thinking it did them no favors. If I had been more serious... if she'd been a little more afraid..."
They probably would have died sooner. Don't be an idiot.
As you wish. Idiocy ceased. T'rin smiled faintly, resting his cheek against warm blue hide. They stayed like that for a time, T'rin beginning to nod off while standing up as Ingonth's eyes slowly shifted from crimson to grey. Eventually the dragon sighed, a low keening hum emerging with his breath.
I miss him so much, Torin.
"I know," T'rin whispered. "I miss her too."