2.3.3 and 2.3.5 -- Nightmares Taking Wing
Sep. 19th, 2010 07:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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Pre-WeyrSearch
Heavy smoke choked his lungs, pushing him to wish for flight to escape. The fields burned, raging in flame, hissing insults at the dragonman who had failed. Their lurid lights danced and mocked, reminding him oh his scared duty, and just how the Weyr had failed all of Pern. The flames danced ever closer, hypnotic, holding him fast to suffer with the fields, choking on the smoke as the flames licked steadily toward the massive trees in the distance. Skybroom didn't burn easily, but the fire would not be denied. All Pern would burn, to destroy the Thread, and all of Pern's people would suffer to their own deaths...
`~`~`~`~`
F'NOR!
The brown rider gasped awake, and then coughed heartily in memory of the choking smoke, before he looked toward the large head that had poked in over his sleeping furs. He cleared his lungs, realized that the smell of woodsmoke was hanging on the breath of air entering the weyr, and then shifted up on his knees to put most of his weight against the large head and neck supporting it in a fierce hug.
"We won't fail. F'lar will find a way!" the brown rider, wingsecond to the son of his father, declared.
When it is time. Do not worry now. You need rest. The dragon took that weight gladly, before drawing back when F'nor finally let go. He did not protest when his rider grabbed the furs and drug them over to the dragon couch, obligingly shifting to make a place for his rider against him, protected by tail and neck.
"Thread's coming," F'nor muttered softly as he got comfortable close to his dragon, cursing his brain for forgetting that Benden Hold would be burning off the undergrowth of their few wooded acreages near the burned out volcano that housed the Weyr.
Yes, but it is not now.
"No..." F'nor stroked the soft hide of his dragon's neck before closing his eyes. "Soon, though..."
Muse: F'nor and Canth
Fandom: Dragonriders of Pern
Word Count: 327 words
Heavy smoke choked his lungs, pushing him to wish for flight to escape. The fields burned, raging in flame, hissing insults at the dragonman who had failed. Their lurid lights danced and mocked, reminding him oh his scared duty, and just how the Weyr had failed all of Pern. The flames danced ever closer, hypnotic, holding him fast to suffer with the fields, choking on the smoke as the flames licked steadily toward the massive trees in the distance. Skybroom didn't burn easily, but the fire would not be denied. All Pern would burn, to destroy the Thread, and all of Pern's people would suffer to their own deaths...
`~`~`~`~`
F'NOR!
The brown rider gasped awake, and then coughed heartily in memory of the choking smoke, before he looked toward the large head that had poked in over his sleeping furs. He cleared his lungs, realized that the smell of woodsmoke was hanging on the breath of air entering the weyr, and then shifted up on his knees to put most of his weight against the large head and neck supporting it in a fierce hug.
"We won't fail. F'lar will find a way!" the brown rider, wingsecond to the son of his father, declared.
When it is time. Do not worry now. You need rest. The dragon took that weight gladly, before drawing back when F'nor finally let go. He did not protest when his rider grabbed the furs and drug them over to the dragon couch, obligingly shifting to make a place for his rider against him, protected by tail and neck.
"Thread's coming," F'nor muttered softly as he got comfortable close to his dragon, cursing his brain for forgetting that Benden Hold would be burning off the undergrowth of their few wooded acreages near the burned out volcano that housed the Weyr.
Yes, but it is not now.
"No..." F'nor stroked the soft hide of his dragon's neck before closing his eyes. "Soon, though..."
Muse: F'nor and Canth
Fandom: Dragonriders of Pern
Word Count: 327 words