“Really? Again?”
Librath turned one baleful eye towards her rider who was currently lounging in his bed, tossing a coin in the air and catching it over and over. A’kir felt the weight of the stare on him and he glanced at his green before rolling his eyes.
“Never met someone as sex crazed as you, which is surprising.”
Rising is more than just being caught, A’kir. Librath’s tone was icy. She and her rider butted heads frequently on small matters like this. How could she explain to a human - even her own rider - that Rising was literally built into her genes? Granted, it was futile for her to Rise over and over as she’d never yield a clutch, but it wasn’t as if she had a choice in the matter. There was something freeing about being chased even if choosing a dragon at the end was difficult.
I wouldn’t expect a human to understand. Even my human. You aren’t obligated to find someone to spend my flights with if that’s what’s making you so prickly. She shifted her delicate weight as she rose to her feet, indicating the conversation was over.
I’ll be back later. Don’t do anything stupid or I’ll come back. With that she took off, flying into the chilly winter sky and not responding to the mental comments A’kir was sending her way about making sure to misbehave. She knew he wouldn’t. Not anything serious at any rate. Those sort of things had declined greatly once she was able to pick up on his mental state before he did something she deemed ‘bad’.
She flew for some time to simply clear her mind, circling the Weyr until she felt A’kir drift off to sleep. Only then did she land, walking among the Weyrfolk and the odd dragon here or there. The urge to Rise was growing within her as it so often did, but she wondered why it was so often. Yes, greens could Rise a few times a Turn and no one would bat an eye. But to Librath it felt like it was every other month that she was taking to the skies, ultimate unsatisfied each time after. Was something wrong with her? Probably not. But if it was enough to make A’kir comment about it - even if he didn’t partake in the flightlust he still was affected, certainly - then it was at least bothering him.
Should she resist the urge for his sake? Or should she give in to biology and find someone to scratch that itch until the next time? Maybe it was because she wasn’t getting anything emotionally from the flights. All the dragons she had settled on (because none had ever felt perfect but she was desperate at that point in her flight) had been nice, of course. Very respectable. But nothing she wanted to wake up to every morning.
Uta