[prp] Heavy Burdens [Fianth/Mic]

[Sweet Symmetry]

Weary bones craved rest, but Mictecath's mind whirled as her eyes might, unable to find the solemn, midnight rest that had claimed her rider. She watched the young girl curled up amongst her bedfurs, and Mic yearned for the easier times when her siblings' bodies lay near hers. When they were small enough to fit five beneath their mama's protective wings... When nobody hurt, and everybody was happy... and alive.

A soft creel escaped her, and the dragon found herself curling up tight, resting her head on her forelegs. Timor and Belior offered no comfort this night, and the dancing stars held little appeal. The romanticism of the night lost against the heavy melancholy of her hearts.

{Mama...} Her voice, ever as melodious as the day she hatched, stretched between her and her beloved golden dam, a whisper carried by an invisible breeze... {May I rest beneath your wings tonight?} It was remarkable that the young queen showed such control- when it came to cuddles, especially with Fianth, she was more eager puppy than poised dragon... But here she was, eyes whirling grey and yellow with worry, voice both wistful and mourning in one turn. Perhaps she would be amenable to sharing her ledge with her... if the toils of Fall hadn't burdened her hearts too heavily as well.

Uta

It's so crappy I'm sorry. T.T

 

[Uta]

The losses had been great, indeed, and Fianth's hearts were heavy. It had been one of the most catastrophic Fall's the queen could remember, and she feared what it meant in the future. With Threadfall's happening with more and more frequency, she knew that these sorts of injuries would be commonplace. Worse, those she loved, would be at higher risk of never returning at all. Lireloth's fate was tragic... but the records made it clear that fighting dragons living to see the end of a Pass was rare indeed. Queenriders, while

The queen was restless, and wanted to check on those who were injured, or heartsore. It was all she could do, and the knowledge that she might well outlive most of her children was a difficult burden, indeed. Oh, instinct knew that her duty, her path, was to survive; to help the Weyr thrive, and to ensure that dragons of all colors lived on. But in the heat of the moment, when the dragons returned to the Weyr, and the losses and injuries began to stack up, the gold found it a hard pill to swallow, indeed.

Though the hour was late, sleep did not come easy for the queen this night. There were dragons and riders who would get little sleep and little comfort; even her own Olliah was not yet turned in, still sitting with Be'ren, and periodically checking in on those within the Infirmary. When a familiar voice reached out, the gold did lift her head, and sent soft, soothing assurances to the queen.

You are always welcome beneath my wings, sweet Mictecath. Her words were genuine. Just like all her clutchbabies, Fianth would never turn a dragon away--and sweet Mictecath had always been loving and desirous of her mother's company. A far different story than Fianth's first golden daughter, Sharath--who had hatched resentful, power-hungry, and detached.

Shifting her position upon her ledge, the queen spread open a wing, so as the other might well take comfort beneath it when she arrived. I see you can't sleep, either. She spoke, exhaustion entering her words, so the young gold might know she was not alone.

Sweet Symmetry