Post by Thorney on Nov 24, 2010 14:43:49 GMT -5
Who: E’ric/Open
What: Firestone Bagging
When: Late Morning
Where: The beach, near the docks
Warnings: It’s E’ric. Self-explanatory. XD
The heat of the summer was quite stifling even early in the day, E’ric reflected, lifting large chunks of firestone and filling the bags before him. It was a dirty, labor-intense chore, which suited the weyrling just fine. He was used to physical toil, quite fit from his turns of runnercraft, and he took to such things with ease. The boy’s muscles flexed and moved smoothly as he lifted a rather large chunk of stone, his face betraying nothing, as if there was no effort on his part. It was a rather unique display, though the bronzerider never did anything to make a show of himself. It was merely self-discipline on his part, training his body as he trained his mind, his detached, aloof presence magnified by his tightly controlled movements. His expression never changed throughout the morning, his cool, distant face remaining rather blank as he worked.
Although, sweat dripped down his face and coated his body, the only visible sign of labor upon him. Despite how well-trained he was, nothing could overcome a natural instinct. Pausing, the weyrling reached down and pulled his tunic off, folding the cloth and setting it neatly beside him. In a second, E’ric returned to his work. A large, wicked bruise was now visible upon his body, the purpled skin covering his lower back. It looked rather painful, but the boy gave no indication of pain, still working methodically. Abruptly, the dark-eyed weyrling felt the awakening conscious of his dragon, and for just an instant, a small, bare smile was upon his face.
Greetings, my rider. I sense that you are still occupied with your chore? Orith asked, even, articulate mindvoice sounding clinical and proper in his bonded’s mind. When he received an affirmation, the bronze rumbled lowly. Very well. Perhaps a few riddles will help to pass the time for you. A quandary for you, my rider; ‘What goes up, but never goes down?’ The dragonet felt his shoulder twitch as he spoke, and he growled lowly, concentrating upon ceasing the involuntary movements.
So challenged, the boy’s eyes flashed for a moment, reveling in testing his mind against the rather formidable one of his bronze. Orith was extremely intelligent, and E’ric rather enjoyed flexing his mental muscles in contest against the dragon’s. For a bit, the weyrling was silent, sorting through possible replies and discarding each, but then he quickly allowed a flash of triumph to dart across his features. Your age. He replied simply, enjoying the pleased emotions his dragon presented to him. Now I present my own to you. ‘I am too swift to see, though I am seen through, and I do not cease until your death. What am I?’ His bronze was silent for quite a while, and the boy continued to work, Rukbat’s rays beating down on him. Finally, however, Orith spoke once more.
Time. He announced firmly, but quickly snorted as his rider replied.
A blink of an eye. E’ric said smoothly, quirking a brow.
With a brush of mental amusement, Orith was pleased with the boy. I chose well that day, my rider.
What: Firestone Bagging
When: Late Morning
Where: The beach, near the docks
Warnings: It’s E’ric. Self-explanatory. XD
The heat of the summer was quite stifling even early in the day, E’ric reflected, lifting large chunks of firestone and filling the bags before him. It was a dirty, labor-intense chore, which suited the weyrling just fine. He was used to physical toil, quite fit from his turns of runnercraft, and he took to such things with ease. The boy’s muscles flexed and moved smoothly as he lifted a rather large chunk of stone, his face betraying nothing, as if there was no effort on his part. It was a rather unique display, though the bronzerider never did anything to make a show of himself. It was merely self-discipline on his part, training his body as he trained his mind, his detached, aloof presence magnified by his tightly controlled movements. His expression never changed throughout the morning, his cool, distant face remaining rather blank as he worked.
Although, sweat dripped down his face and coated his body, the only visible sign of labor upon him. Despite how well-trained he was, nothing could overcome a natural instinct. Pausing, the weyrling reached down and pulled his tunic off, folding the cloth and setting it neatly beside him. In a second, E’ric returned to his work. A large, wicked bruise was now visible upon his body, the purpled skin covering his lower back. It looked rather painful, but the boy gave no indication of pain, still working methodically. Abruptly, the dark-eyed weyrling felt the awakening conscious of his dragon, and for just an instant, a small, bare smile was upon his face.
Greetings, my rider. I sense that you are still occupied with your chore? Orith asked, even, articulate mindvoice sounding clinical and proper in his bonded’s mind. When he received an affirmation, the bronze rumbled lowly. Very well. Perhaps a few riddles will help to pass the time for you. A quandary for you, my rider; ‘What goes up, but never goes down?’ The dragonet felt his shoulder twitch as he spoke, and he growled lowly, concentrating upon ceasing the involuntary movements.
So challenged, the boy’s eyes flashed for a moment, reveling in testing his mind against the rather formidable one of his bronze. Orith was extremely intelligent, and E’ric rather enjoyed flexing his mental muscles in contest against the dragon’s. For a bit, the weyrling was silent, sorting through possible replies and discarding each, but then he quickly allowed a flash of triumph to dart across his features. Your age. He replied simply, enjoying the pleased emotions his dragon presented to him. Now I present my own to you. ‘I am too swift to see, though I am seen through, and I do not cease until your death. What am I?’ His bronze was silent for quite a while, and the boy continued to work, Rukbat’s rays beating down on him. Finally, however, Orith spoke once more.
Time. He announced firmly, but quickly snorted as his rider replied.
A blink of an eye. E’ric said smoothly, quirking a brow.
With a brush of mental amusement, Orith was pleased with the boy. I chose well that day, my rider.
