[FEAST PRP] Mom and Chill (R'him/Hybreoth + Marty/Anakumath)

[demon_pachabel]

Martirae hadn't worn that particular dress in a couple of turns now - her mother's dress. She'd held onto it, saved it for when she impressed but following that it had gone into waiting for another opportunity to perhaps shine a little harder. Because while each hatching feast was a special time to celebrate new lives, new dragons, and a change to the futures of many it never quite felt appropriate.

But these were Anakumath's little ones. Martirae had thought she'd feel a touch more detached, even when her beloved's thrill threatened to simply overwhelm her on a day to day basis. Surely the frantic (and very assisted) bathing of a gold who had gone several sevenday without would make her lose that frenetic energy. She'd thought the impatience and eagerness was solely a bleedoff. Faced with a chance to dress up and celebrate a little harder - to feel like she deserved to - made Marty question that.

Being dressed up was a touch less exciting once she was posted one foot too close to the chill of the outdoors where her dragon was waiting, purple eyes far too small of a telegraph of the absolute love that bloomed from her every time she spotted one of those precious little darlings that had broken shell that evening. More than the diligent work, more than catching any falling dragon, Anakumath was absolutely radiant with purpose - something that she was meant to do so deeply. To mother. It almost made Martirae's biological clock start ticking.

Oof.

Fortunately distraction would come soon enough when Anakumath spotted yet another of her darlings, leaning out to offer a boop even before she'd been granted anything close to permission. Hybreoth, my love, come show me this handsome young man of yours. she beckoned, eager to let her proud son show off his good taste for her - while Marty idly noted....no, not idly. She had grown at least passingly familiar with the candidates of High Reaches (after all, they had peeked a lot) and she could recognize how it looked to be not quite ready for the winter's cold.

One of her 'own' kind. Certainly, High Reaches would likely hold her forever - she'd started daring to put down roots - but Western was her home and where her seed had originally been planted. She'd forever be fond.

Uta

 

[Uta]

The large head of his mother came down to greet him, but Hybreoth did not flinch, nor did he turn away. He might have been a proud dragonet, but he was still only a baby--and he did possess a healthy respect for Queens. While he would never admit to them being more than he--for truly he was the peak of perfection--the dragonet was well aware that they were a force to reckon with all their own. They possessed power he did not, but it did not bother him--they each had their strengths, and as a bronze dragon, he sat at the top of the male-dragon hierarchy.

His mother, at minimum, had hatched him--and therefor she did deserve the honor of knowing him. He was too proud a being to concede much more, but R'him thought that maybe, just maybe, there might be a small spot of fondness. Far more, of course, than his own brown father whom he still begrudged.

He allowed a faint swirl of purple to enter his gaze, even as he returned his mother's boop with a small nuzzle all his own. He was, of course, more than pleased to be sought out--as he knew he well should be. So it was, the little dragon deigned to come closer, with His in tow. Isn't he fine, Mother? The most interesting of the lot, by far, and most suitable to attend my every need. For this bronze did and would always need attendance of some sort. Not because he could not do things himself, but because it was rightfully his due. He was a man without fault--at least as far as the bronze could see--and quite pleased with his choice.

R'him, for his part, was not unaware of Anakumath--and certainly knew of Martirae. While he did not know her well, he had once attended Candidacy with her. This was his first time making the trip to High Reaches, having felt an obligation towards the Weyr that had Searched him. But as the Turns had passed, he had thought perhaps he had better start applying himself to all available clutches rather than not--and lo and behold, it had found him the most perfect being on Pern.

Though High Reaches would forever have his gratitude, he would not disparage Western either. He could not have found one without being Searched by the other, after all.

Giving them both a low bow, he offered a smile. "Anakumath, weyrwoman Martirae," he greeted formally, well aware of their rank--especially now that he was here in High Reaches. "It was an honor to stand for your clutch, and an even greater one to be found worthy of this handsome fellow." His words were sincere, and his pleasure genuine. The love, pleasure, and absolute pride that radiated from him for his little bronze wasn't something he could hide--nor did he want to.

He was thoroughly besotted--just as he should be. Never mind what happened on the Sands, or at least that's what he tried to tell himself. He would consider its gravity once Hybreoth was well asleep.

demon_pachabel

 

[demon_pachabel]

While she'd have never forced her company upon him beyond her desire to adore and perhaps even feel the warmth of her children now that there was not a shell in the way, Anakumath was delighted that Hybreoth's needs had at least been such that he could indulge his mother with his company.

She hummed softly as he nuzzled her, eyes whirling between soft purples and blues with the absolute pleasure of it. Why yes, I can see why he was the one for you, she said, though truly she had never looked upon any of the candidates who had come to touch her eggs with much more interest than that they had held potential for her little ones. She had known their goodness and seen them for their worth, of course, but she had not found any need to pry into them. Not when it would serve neither party to do so. The Weyrlings held far more interest to her on that personal level. You both radiate greatness, which she thought, of course, of all of her children - but Hybreoth could at least know of his mother's thoughts and soak them in.

Martirae smiled, returning the bow with some graciousness. "And how luck it is you were here for him to find," she was of the opinion that there was only one person for each dragon, after all, and the loss of any for a lack of that would have been painful. She'd all but kept Aureliath from her mind, knowing the potential of it. "Less fortunate, however, is that you're here when it is so cold. Anakumath and I at least got to ease into the wintertime bathing. I'd recommend having a dry pair - or two - of socks to change into once such wet tasks are done."

Uta

 

[Uta]

Though he was a very proud dragon, Hybreoth was still but a hatchling. He might have grand ideas, but his mother was still his mother--and did he not deserve her praise and singular attention? Was he not an absolute gem? He might not have been Ardoxshoth or Damahath, but he was, in his mind's eye, their equal. They might command, and he would listen--but as far as the rest of the color spectrum went, he was the cream of the crop, and the top of the top. Certainly, among the rest of his siblings he was...incomparable.

It was good that his mother noticed it, and he was only too happy to settle down in her company. Bridging the distance between them, the bronze only too happily trotted up to her, where he circled once, circled twice (this time so she might really see how fine a son he was) before settling right between her forearms. Yes, there. Perfect. Just where he belonged and in such a favored position too.

What an honor, indeed.

How sensible of you to see such a thing, MotherMine--for truly we shall do great things. I dare say you broke the mold when I was hatched, and you shall never see the likes of me again, no matter what siblings you might gift me. Yes, because surely, any future clutches would be but a gift to him, incorrigible creature that he was. Of course, his words were not spoken purely out of pride, but out of his perceived truth. The bronze was well aware of his worth, though it had less to do with the color of his hide and more to do with his personality and clever tongue. He was simply flawless, and would have been no matter the color.

R'him, for his part, was simply glad that his bronze seemed content, for all that he sat with Anakumath like a little Lord Holder himself. "It is rather cold, but I'd track barefoot in the Snowy Wastelands themselves if it meant finding Him." And that was absolutely the truth. He was completely smitten, and found the dragon absolutely charming--for all that he knew him to be a handful. He was not unware of imperfections--but such flaws only made his best boy all the more unique and amazing. Surely, there was no dragon quite like him.... and while he understood it must be a feeling all riders shared with Theirs, he was only too happy to embrace the bias.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mindthough, certainly. I suppose I never thought twice about what Northerner's did come bath time for their babies in the dead of winter, but I promise it won't be a chore, for all that I wind up half-froze." He grinned a bit. "I suppose one thing in our favor is that it'll go all the faster while he's so small, as opposed to having to spend hours at it once he's larger." Yes, by the time they four or five months, the weather would be considerably warmer--and their dragons much, much larger.

"Truly though, I... I do feel quite indebted." For all his confidence, he was not unaware of what gift he'd been given. And while it was purely chance, for who knew what a hatched dragon might want, his life was forever changed, and in the best of ways. It was not Martirae's doing, but without her, there would be no Anakumath, and without her... there would be no Hybreoth. For all that he was a man who often knew just what to say... since Impression, he felt quite undone--but in the best of ways.

demon_pachabel

 

[demon_pachabel]

Admire she did, thrumming and watching each little circle her son did before he settled between her forelegs. The perfect spot to be where Anakumath could boop him again, if she felt so inclined. But oh, how regal Hybreoth was looking! She'd at least respect the nobility he was trying to exude....after one more boop from mother, of course.

Ah, that I will have to piece it back together and it will never be the same, she lamented, more to entertain Hybreoth's ego than anything. He was hardly the first dragon she'd ever heard such sentiment from, though perhaps not in those exact words, and she thought each one of them truly the specimen they claimed to be - so it was simply just as true for her first bronze son as it was any other time she'd heard it. That means you will have to be my brilliant, sparkling example in all of your lessons so I may admire you for as long as I can. She'd not speak the morbidness of the request to a hatchling, but there were some aches of being simply not-prepared or some other err that would never be explained away that lingered even two turns later.

Marty would have laughed, if she had more humor in her that didn't seem specifically reserved. "Well, I would rather you didn't have to. You won't freeze - a little runny nose here, perhaps the uh..." Marty held up a finger and gestured vaguely with a circle motion with it, "occasional seasonal bug - we all got it really bad when I impressed." And how she'd hated it and what it dredged up in her. Mere sniffles frayed her sanity.

"Then pay it forward into him - it's all Anakumath would ask for as a mother. Though I doubt she would have to for you to do so."

Uta