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| Kythe & Rutanth |
| Rider Kythe glanced affectionately at her white Rutanth, who basked in the warm sand wallow he’d claimed at his birthplace, Talis Weyr. Comfortably, Rutanth shifted so that the heat of the beach sand penetrated deeper into his pearlized hide. Kythe still wasn’t fond of talking, but she could manage it. Rutanth, on the other hand, was a born sweet-talker, silver-tongued and charming. He was also the puzzlement of half the Weyr. It wasn’t /proper/, thought they, that a /male/ white should Impress to a /female/ rider. Things had never gone that way in /their/ day. <<No lady dragon would have done for you, Kythe. You are too quiet, too vulnerable—a tart-minded green would have plowed you into the earth, and a shy one would have you both silent forever. You needed a strong lad like me, who’s handsome, clever, and talented, not to mention modest. We fit each other perfectly, each the opposite of the other.>> Rutanth’s claret-velvet tenor flashed unexpected silver, and the dark flavor of allspice rolled off his mental tongue like a caress. >>Speaking of the ladies, Rutanth, I hear that there’s to be a flight ‘frenzy’, whatever that is, meant exclusively for riders like you and me—girl-and-boy or boy-and-girl pairings, instead of girl-and-girl or boy-and-boy.<< Kythe’s soft coloratura was breathy even when speaking privately with her dragon, but at least the words weren’t so difficult. <<You mean you’d let me fly, instead of watch?>> the white asked, and his rich voice sounded aggrieved. >>My darling Rutanth, would I bring it up just to tell you no? You’ll have plenty of competition, but you won’t be strange there. The dragons are /strange/…<< Kythe shivered a little. >>Why don’t you see if you can get directions? I don’t know where this ‘Healing Den’ is.<< |
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