Post by Ramba-Cat on Feb 9, 2012 16:30:24 GMT -5
He had a son.
It was the thought ringing around the brownrider’s mind as he put down the letter from the now-deceased drudge. All else had been forgotten, his duties as a candidate master, his duties as a rider, the strange rocks falling from the sky. Even Ith’s constant pain was pushed to the back of the rider’s mind as he stormed up to the crèche in a state of worry. After being told that his son had been adopted by a bronze rider (when did they have the time?) a few years ago, L’ust felt somewhat relieved. A Bronzerider would have treated his son alright, right?
Apparently not. The bronze rider’s door was somewhat ajar when the brownrider reached the Weyr. L’ust entered in the hopes his son would be inside, but the sight that met him wasn’t what he expected. It would be permanently burned into his mind. The sight of his son, a ragged, somewhat emaciated boy, sat in the corner, his filthy skin and hair starting up at L’ust in fear. A rope tied his ankle to the bronzerider’s bed, and it was obvious by the smell that the boy was being used for things that the brownrider was vehemently against. Especially as he was the one who looked after the candidates who came to the Weyr…
Footsteps behind him made the brownrider turn sharply on his heal, despite his leg. There the bronzerider stood, a sneer on his face which made the taller man fly into a rage. Such was the rage that Brown Ith reciprocated, turning on the bronze himself, smaller though he was, at that moment, he was no longer the soft cuddly Ith many had come to know for his soft nature. The Brown reared onto his hind legs, wings flared, mouth in a twisted snarl which showed almost all of his teeth. He let out a bellow that would raise hairs on even the hardiest of people, before flying at the bronze and sinking his teeth into the right wing of the other dragon. Ith pulled, hearing the satisfying crunch of a dislocated wing.
The pair broke apart, the bronze in shock as his wing hung limply. The scarred brown gave a hiss as the bronze leapt at him, feeling claws rake his shoulder as he scraped at the bronze’s stomach. The wind left Ith as something barrelled into him – a young green by the name of Rispath. The bronze flicked dirt into the brown’s eyes, but didn’t land a blow as a blue dragon backed up the green, both of the smaller colours acting as a barrier between Ith and the bronze. There was a howl from the larger dragon as his rider’s nose was broken by L’ust.
The riders of the green and blue separated L’ust and the bronzerider, looks of disgust on their faces. Not from the fighting, no, but from the poor boy who was currently trembling in fear. Taking a few minutes to calm himself down, the brownrider scowled and cut the rope which bound his son to the bed. He lifted the boy out, before returning to his own Weyr. His son wouldn’t have to worry anymore – L’ust would be there for him, always.
It was the thought ringing around the brownrider’s mind as he put down the letter from the now-deceased drudge. All else had been forgotten, his duties as a candidate master, his duties as a rider, the strange rocks falling from the sky. Even Ith’s constant pain was pushed to the back of the rider’s mind as he stormed up to the crèche in a state of worry. After being told that his son had been adopted by a bronze rider (when did they have the time?) a few years ago, L’ust felt somewhat relieved. A Bronzerider would have treated his son alright, right?
Apparently not. The bronze rider’s door was somewhat ajar when the brownrider reached the Weyr. L’ust entered in the hopes his son would be inside, but the sight that met him wasn’t what he expected. It would be permanently burned into his mind. The sight of his son, a ragged, somewhat emaciated boy, sat in the corner, his filthy skin and hair starting up at L’ust in fear. A rope tied his ankle to the bronzerider’s bed, and it was obvious by the smell that the boy was being used for things that the brownrider was vehemently against. Especially as he was the one who looked after the candidates who came to the Weyr…
Footsteps behind him made the brownrider turn sharply on his heal, despite his leg. There the bronzerider stood, a sneer on his face which made the taller man fly into a rage. Such was the rage that Brown Ith reciprocated, turning on the bronze himself, smaller though he was, at that moment, he was no longer the soft cuddly Ith many had come to know for his soft nature. The Brown reared onto his hind legs, wings flared, mouth in a twisted snarl which showed almost all of his teeth. He let out a bellow that would raise hairs on even the hardiest of people, before flying at the bronze and sinking his teeth into the right wing of the other dragon. Ith pulled, hearing the satisfying crunch of a dislocated wing.
The pair broke apart, the bronze in shock as his wing hung limply. The scarred brown gave a hiss as the bronze leapt at him, feeling claws rake his shoulder as he scraped at the bronze’s stomach. The wind left Ith as something barrelled into him – a young green by the name of Rispath. The bronze flicked dirt into the brown’s eyes, but didn’t land a blow as a blue dragon backed up the green, both of the smaller colours acting as a barrier between Ith and the bronze. There was a howl from the larger dragon as his rider’s nose was broken by L’ust.
The riders of the green and blue separated L’ust and the bronzerider, looks of disgust on their faces. Not from the fighting, no, but from the poor boy who was currently trembling in fear. Taking a few minutes to calm himself down, the brownrider scowled and cut the rope which bound his son to the bed. He lifted the boy out, before returning to his own Weyr. His son wouldn’t have to worry anymore – L’ust would be there for him, always.
