Post by shouriko on Jul 11, 2010 18:14:57 GMT -6
It had been more than a turn since his having been brought to Southern Weyr. He was the youngest candidate not only in being such, but also in impressing a dragon. Of all the dragons he could have impressed Atizmath was the one who saw him for all that he was. The bronze that most thought was the shame of his color; bronze.
Everyone could see now how wrong they were because in the span of a turn both Atizmath and F'kir had grown.
He had been told at one point that he would not be so small for long and that man had been correct. F'kir had easily grown a full head in height and was on the threshold of being 6 feet tall, the height of most men in his family. His black hair was the same length, continually cutting it when he felt it was getting a little longer than he liked it to be. He still had the same green eyes and the same attitude, but his face looked more mature, the childish qualities in him were fading away to nothing. By the time he graduated from Weyrlinghood he would indeed look like a fine young man, more so than he did already. One problem he identified with this change was the faraway attention he got from girls who wished to associate with him.
Atizmath used to look next to death. Though his hide was of the best coloration and made him the most pretty to look at, the way his hide hung loose over his joints and across his body made others grimace. The only thing that proved he was healthy was his sure-footedness and his decisive movements. He was no longer so shabby looking. Atizmath was already grown to the point that he was among the largest in their group. His muscling was well defined and developing still. His hide was worn well now and he was the envy of many a rider and even some fancied the green dragons liked him very much. Not that he cared, he was all about his F'kir and none could come between them, so possessive was her.
It was no wonder then that the pair of black sheep were sitting alone on the beach during a lapse of activity. Atizmath was stretched out on the white sand just out of reach of the waves as they lapped on the shore. F'kir was almost out of sight, leaning with his back against the growing bronze's shoulder, eyes closed as he too soak up the sun rays. Such peaceful, quiet times were rare, coming few and far between.
Everyone could see now how wrong they were because in the span of a turn both Atizmath and F'kir had grown.
He had been told at one point that he would not be so small for long and that man had been correct. F'kir had easily grown a full head in height and was on the threshold of being 6 feet tall, the height of most men in his family. His black hair was the same length, continually cutting it when he felt it was getting a little longer than he liked it to be. He still had the same green eyes and the same attitude, but his face looked more mature, the childish qualities in him were fading away to nothing. By the time he graduated from Weyrlinghood he would indeed look like a fine young man, more so than he did already. One problem he identified with this change was the faraway attention he got from girls who wished to associate with him.
Atizmath used to look next to death. Though his hide was of the best coloration and made him the most pretty to look at, the way his hide hung loose over his joints and across his body made others grimace. The only thing that proved he was healthy was his sure-footedness and his decisive movements. He was no longer so shabby looking. Atizmath was already grown to the point that he was among the largest in their group. His muscling was well defined and developing still. His hide was worn well now and he was the envy of many a rider and even some fancied the green dragons liked him very much. Not that he cared, he was all about his F'kir and none could come between them, so possessive was her.
It was no wonder then that the pair of black sheep were sitting alone on the beach during a lapse of activity. Atizmath was stretched out on the white sand just out of reach of the waves as they lapped on the shore. F'kir was almost out of sight, leaning with his back against the growing bronze's shoulder, eyes closed as he too soak up the sun rays. Such peaceful, quiet times were rare, coming few and far between.
