Musings of a bronzer

[lyonza]

Z'mer sighed as he settled onto his bed, fluffing the pillows and shifting about on the furs until he was comfortable. He pulled his journal from the pile of books next to the bed and reached for the quill, balancing the inkpot on a wooden board that he got for that purpose. He dipped the quill into the ink and soon the room was filled with the sound of the tip scratching on the parchment.

I've been here at Western a few weeks now and sadly I arrived after the queen rose to mate or I'd be Wyerleader and not A'dion. Not that I think I would make a good Weyrleader - that is irrelevant. I'm not sure WHY I left Telgar, what did I think was going to be different here than it was there?

I can see my state of mind is low again - I've been writing terrible prose, I can hear Amoneth laughing when I read it again. I think I will avoid doing that in future. It's bad when your dragon mocks you. But when I'm happy or with someone, I don't want to write. How silly is that?

The best solution? Find someone that makes me happy.

Question is, how feasible is it here? Will I find someone that will make me happy? Or will I end up alone and crotchety like Uncle Maunchin back at Telgar?

Z'mer frowned in disgust at his self-pity. "Faugh! You're pitiful and should get out of here and do something."

Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness. Or intelligence. I vote for the latter. Amoneth was a little mocking, but it usually worked with his rider.

"Ha!" Z'mer snorted and got up, careful not to spill the inkpot. He walked over to the ledge and leaned against his dragon. "Its madness this time, and I should be worried about arguing with myself and losing the fight." He gave a crooked smile and rubbed Amoneth's eyeridges. "Wanna go flying?" he asked.

The big bronze rumbled his assent and Z'mer went looking for his flying gear and riding straps. Flying usually made both of them feel better. When he got back he'd try writing something, hopefully not another sickeningly terrible bodice-ripper of a romance. He was starting to think that was all he could write.

[lyonza]

Z'mer settled on his bed, journal in hand and arranging everything around him so he could write for a while without having to move. His foot was throbbing and he wondered if he should go get some fellis to help him sleep. He dismissed the idea with a shake of his head and dipped the quill into ink before starting to write.

It's been just short of four sevendays and I went and sliced open my foot this morning while Amoneth was hunting. One would think that I can keep my balance better than a newly hatched dragonet, but apparently not. It didn't need stitches, but I did interrupt Amoneth's hunt and I feel terrible about it. I will have to take the the dear out in a day or two so he can eat properly.

I got to meet some of the new candidates in various places all over the Weyr and what I've seen of them, I think we've got a good group coming in. Midneal, Jassen (or was it Jessan?), Pala and Brete. A nice enough group of youngsters - Shards, I sound like Uncle Maunchin - and I gather there are just enough for the number of eggs on the Sands.

I need friends. I've got acquaintances right now, people that I can greet and be sociable with, but I've been here long enough, its time to make friends. I don't understand how I didn't hit it off with someone on day one? Me, the social hub of Telgar, sitting at Western without a single friend to have a drink with in my weyr or just talk about whatever came up? If I didn't like myself so much I'd be quite disgusted at myself for wallowing in pity like this.

My latest writing attempt could possibly be better than the others. Amoneth didn't laugh as much as the last one, so I guess its something better.

He pushed his journal aside and struggled to sit on the edge of the bed. Are you off to go soak in the baths again? Amoneth asked. "Yes, I think I need it. And I will remember to change the dressing on the cut, I promise." He smiled fondly over at the ledge where Amoneth was snoozing.

"Do you think I've been too reclusive?" Z'mer asked his friend as he got his bathing stuff together. "I haven't made one friend yet, only people I chat to every now and again."

Well, then get out there and make friends, his dragon said with impeccable logic. Zevranth and Sabath are nice enough to me, maybe you'll can be friends with their riders. They are the Weyrleader and Weyrsecond, you are a bronzerider. What's the problem?

He laughed at that. "You, dearest to my heart, have too simplistic a view on things. But you're right, I should make a concerted effort to get to know them. And now I'm going to soak in the hottest bath I can stand and have some wine to completely relax." He limped out the door, the cane making a clacking noise as he went down the access tunnel to the lower caverns and the baths on the other side of the cliff from his weyr.

[lyonza]

Z'mer settled on the bed with his journal. Amoneth was up on the Heights with the other dragons. The Hatching was over, the Feast done and the weyrlings were settled and fed.

What a day! Dragonets never seem to take their new riders into consideration. Hatching at such an early hour of the day - it caught everybody flat-footed and scrambling to make it to the Hatching grounds on time. Some of the Candidates were late, some arrived in the nick of time from other weyrs - it was almost a mess. None of the hatchlings went between, thankfully, though it was a close thing.

The exciting bit was the bright blue that chose someone from the Stands and it was clear the poor boy thought he was in trouble at first. But it all worked out and the newly paired teams were all fed and cleaned up in no time.

The weyrlingmaster knows what she's doing.

I haven't met the new queenrider other than congratulating her at the feast and Brete got the grey - that was quite exciting to watch. I'm happy for her - we now have two queens and two greys. Things are looking good for the weyr.

Midneal Impressed a little white dragon and the poor thing was so tiny, he couldn't get out of the egg where it was buried under the sand. Midneal had to dig him out. I swear, Jet is bigger than the hatchling at the moment.

The animal in question chose that moment to jump on the bed and curled up next to Z'mer. He scratched between the tunnelcat's ears for a bit before continuing this writing.

Pala Impressed a burgundy which was quite a surprise to me, to be honest. I thought she would have got a green, but it seems the dragons had other ideas.

The boy that arrived late from Telgar - K'nar I heard him being called and where he was from - still looks way too familiar to me. Yes, he's from my old Wyer, but there is something else and I can't put my finger on it. I'll have to write uncle Maunchin and ask him if he knows anything about the boy. It's a niggling thing at the back of my mind and I won't rest until I find out what it is.

He put his journal aside and pulled the book he was busy writing in. The words on the page lay there like accusations, a testament of his (to his mind) bad writing.

Amorella stood on the ledge, the moonlight washing over her like a cascade waterfall molten river of light, painting her features in light and shadow. K'noc lay on the twisted sleeping furs, their night's exertions quite obvious. "Come back to bed," he said, holding his hand out in invitation.

The Weyrwoman turned back from the ledge, the fur she held about her trailing on the floor. "Not right now, K'noc. I have an early Council meeting and its not long to dawn. If you promise to let me sleep, you can stay. Otherwise, go back to your own weyr." She spoke evenly, used to being obeyed.

The bluerider dropped his hand back onto the furs. "I promise," he said, then he smiled as she walked back to the bed, dropping the sleeping fur on the floor before she lay down next to him. He lightly caressed her shoulder, trailing a featherlight touch down her arm, before resting his hand on her hip. "Just to sleep," he said as he pressed a kiss to her lips.

Amorella nodded, turned over and hid the smile on her lips as K'noc snuggled up behind her, his hand resting on her stomach. "Just to sleep."

Z'mer waited for the ink to dry before he closed the book and put it away. He sighed deeply before getting up and preparing for bed. The next few months are going to be very interesting.