Like Mother, Like Son

Writers: Len, Paula
Date Posted: 27th March 2019

Characters: E'naer, G'wen
Description: G'wen and E'naer catch up after Threadfall but their flits have other ideas.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 10, day 6 of Turn 9

As she broke out of /between/ Neath reached out to Elliespeth. }:Just
tell yours that mine is okay,:{ was her cryptic message.

**Are you tattling on me again?** G'wen snorted when his large green
glanced back at him with a sardonic eye. For a big strong dragon she
sure liked to give a running innovatory of all his injuries! It was
nothing but a minor burn from not being able to duck quick enough when
the a strong gust of wind blew her ash back to him. And he blamed the
very long nature of the Fall itself. Neath may have been more than
able to go an entire Fall without a rest but he wasn't so sure he was
up to the job. To take his mind off it, G'wen looked across the bowl
as Neath hovered waiting for a landing spot.

** And that is going to make me feel better?** E'naer asked when
Eillispeth relayed the message. Unfortunately, he was not able to go
and check on G'wen right away. Unless the weyrlings demanded his
attention during the Fall, he was helping with the dragonhealers. And
right now, he was up to his elbows in numbweed.
** Tell them I will be there as soon as Fall is over and all the
injuries are treated. He better have himself checked with the healers
too.**

Neath relayed the message with a huff. }:Surly his weyrmate is more
important that silly Berenth's score?:{

G'wen gave her a little slap on the shoulder. **Stop being mean, you**
She snorted again at that. "Wait here then whilst I get myself checked
out." He said the later aloud as a smiling healer made her way over to
him.

Within an hour he had been seen to, numbweed applied, and Neath washed
and fed and asleep. He slumped down into the nearest chair in the
Dinning Hall with a groan. He really was tired. A young kitchen girl
slid a klah and some meatrolls under his nose without even being
prompted. "Geez, I must look terrible," he muttered to himself. Dusk
chearped an affirmative as he helped himself to the meatrolls.

Once E'naer was free from duty, he quickly scrubbed himself and
changed to a tunic that was not stained by ichor. Then he hurried to
meet G'wen at the dining hall.

"Hey, there you are." G'wen smiled and pointed to the mostly eaten
meatrolls. "I think Dusk_might've_left us a few to eat." He shooed the
little bronze off before asking, "So how are the weyrlings?'

"The weyrlings are fine and Berenth will also recover, although she'll
be out of action for while. How are you, darling?" E'naer leaned to
kiss him before taking his seat.

"Neath will be glad to hear about Berenth," G'wen teased, pointing to
his oh-so-tiny burn line along the right of his neck. "Bloody wind out
there today. I hate this time of the year for them."

E'naer took a look of it and determined it wasn't a serious one.
"Yeah, I still remember how it was."

G'wen gave E'naer a gentle squeeze under the table and held up a hand
for some food. "I hate doing that," he said to E'naer, "But I
seriously think I'd collapse and fall asleep halfway to the food if I
had to go and get it myself." He gave the girl--the same one, he
noted--an appoligic smile as she slid two heaping plates of food under
the two green riders' noses. G'wen waved off Dusk when the tiny bronze
made like he was just going to sander over and help himself to both
plates.

"Faranth, Feral, you have no table manners," E'naer scolded his flit
and tried to prevent her landing middle of their dinners. "Sorry about
that. Look, the staff understands that."

"Like mother, like son." G'wen snorted as Dusk again tried to get to
the food by swiping his tail towards the plates. "You're not that
clever, little man. Here..." He tossed both flits the heaping bit of
raw meat the kitchen girl had placed on the tray just for the fire
lizards. "They really are little pests, aren't they?" His tone was
affectionate.

"Yes, and what would we do without them," E'naer agreed and directed
Feral's attention to the meat.

"Oh dear." G'wen winced as Dusk turned possessive over the food and
sent most of it scattering when poor Feral tried to have her share. He
squawked loud enough that half the Dinning room stopped and stared at
their table. "You were saying...?" G'wen raised his hand up to hide
his eyes.

Feral let Dusk feel the wrath of Queen's temper. "Oh, shards," E'naer
sighed. Since Feral was a gold flit, some of her suitors appeared to
defend her. "Grab the food and escape?" E'naer suggested.

"Race you to the Weyr!" G'wen had already grabbed his plate and was
gone. He'd been around enough of these mother/son gold/bronze fights
to know they never ended with any semblance of dignity for either him
or E'naer.

E'naer wasn't far behind with his plate.

Last updated on the April 4th 2019

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Like Mother, Like Son