Mawgrim
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He's got it coming to him, but as he's the sort of man who doesn't consider the consequences of his actions, eventually it will all catch up with him.
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It had been an easy Fall; not too many injuries and no fatalities. D’gar joined the rest of his Wing for the evening meal, sitting in the Wingsecond’s place to R’feem’s left. ‘Pity you missed that one,’ J’rud said, leaning across. ‘Nice and short. Good weather. No one hurt.’ He meant in their Wing, of course. D’gar had dropped his bloodstained clothes off at the laundry on the way in. Despite spending a fair amount of time in the bathing pool, it still felt like some of the blood
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Afternoon Fall was always worse; all that waiting around beforehand. D’gar preferred when it started in the morning, but unfortunately Thread wasn’t so obliging. Today he was more nervous than usual. He was still grounded, but H’rek would be fighting with the Queens Wing. He’d not slept very well the previous night, partly because it was difficult to get comfortable from his injuries and partly through worry. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw Kylara drawing the names (and barely pausi
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Possibly. I originally intended this as a single short story, but if inspiration strikes I may write some more about Mark.
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From a distance, all weddings look much the same. Brides, glimpsed through the rear window of a passing limousine; an impression of brilliance in the shadowed interior. Church bells on a Saturday afternoon. Confetti blowing across the pavement like fallen petals. Gaudy dresses and big hats grouped on the village green, moving to and fro to the summons of the photographer. In the albums and the finished videos all brides look happy. It’s only when you follow the whole process throughout the d
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Mark is a wedding videographer, expert at making every couples happy day look wonderful. But he's not yet ready to admit his own relationship is falling apart.
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Very hot and also very well written, but I think Hayden's just using Seth.
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The rest of the day passed slowly, as time always does when there is nothing to distract your attention. D'gar tried looking at the records, but it wasn’t made any easier by having to spread the hides out across the bed and he found that leaning forward for too long made him feel oddly queasy. Ah well. They would just have to wait until he was allowed back to his weyr. H’rek called in later for a brief visit, bringing his clothes. After that, he felt well enough to get out of bed and wal
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Unfortunately, even in canon, some of the bronze riders aren’t always the greatest examples - take R'gul for example, totally convinced that the best thing for the Weyr is to hide away and ignore all the signs Thread is going to fall. Or T'ron, trying to knife F'lar at that wedding.
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That was part of the idea that inspired me to write this - what happened between the end of Dragonflight and the beginning of Dragonquest to sour the relationship between Benden and the other five Weyrs? As they say, 'the past is another country; they do things differently there'. Must have been really hard for all those folk to adapt to the new age and some of them just can’t deal with it.
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After R’feem and H’rek had left him, D’gar managed to sleep for a while. When he woke again, his stomach was telling him it must be near lunchtime. The numbweed was still doing its work, so he didn’t feel too bad at all. In fact, if they’d only left him some clothes, he’d have been up and about. He sat up and looked around the infirmary cavern. There were two other occupied beds near to his. The man to his right was sleeping, but over on the opposite side, another rider, of a similar
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Great comments. Good to have an antagonist everyone hates! If only it was that simple. All of the High Reaches riders were sent to Benden because their Weyrleader wanted rid of them for various reasons. Benden don't want any of them as part of their own wings - they're glad of the help until they can breed enough dragons to be self sufficient again, but aren’t really interested in integrating them with the rest of the Weyr. If F'drun had hurt a Benden rider, there might be a bit more concern, but as it is, they've left it up to R'feem as Wingleader to deal with the problem. He's assuming that the shame of being demoted will pull F'drun into line and will also prevent him bullying anyone again.
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D’gar woke up in the same bed as H’rek again, the only difference being that this time they were in H’rek’s weyr rather than his own. All of the young riders had overindulged the previous evening. It had been slightly unfair on them that some of his own wingmates had encouraged it and they had several more Turns hard drinking experience behind them. They’d proceeded to drink the youngsters under the table. D’gar had been careful and had made two cups of wine last him the entire evening.
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Beautifully written. Spooky and atmospheric. I could almost believe I was a fly on the wall in that bar, watching it all unfold in front of my eyes.
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Yes, but he's one of those people who only thinks of himself and damn the consequences.
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Not a chance. D'gar's main mistake is trying to deal with him as if he was a reasonable man.
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‘I suppose we should go and get something to eat soon,’ D’gar said sleepily. The angle of the sun on the floor of his weyr indicated that the afternoon had turned to evening. Still, it was warm and comfortable here, lying next to H’rek. They’d spent a very pleasurable couple of hours; making love, dozing, relaxing. He realised that it had been so long since he felt this level of contentment, he’d almost forgotten the state existed. H’rek propped himself up on one elbow. ‘I’m not that
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It never is with people like F'drun.
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Maybe not quite that many to go...
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There sure is. F'drun is a nasty piece of work.
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D’gar slid the straps off Herebeth, only then realising how exhausted he felt. His back and neck ached fiercely and his feet were at just the wrong stage of coming back to life that they hurt. I shall go for a swim now, Herebeth said happily, as he took off and joined the scrummage of dragons making for the lake. The water must be freezing, but fortunately dragons didn’t feel the cold with the same intensity as their riders. After hanging his straps carefully on the hooks
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Writing Threadfall scenes is one of those things I find quite difficult, so glad it came over so well. Great to see that you are all enjoying reading this so far.
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D’gar woke as the grey light of dawn filtered beneath the heavy curtain separating the sleeping chamber from his dragon’s weyr. He wasn’t alone; H’rek had stayed the night and was still sleeping soundly, having pulled most of the furs to his side of the bed. He lay there for a while, as the increasing light began to illuminate more of the weyr. It was strange to wake up with someone sharing his bed, after having got used to being alone. He shivered as he remembered that the last time he had woke
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Thanks for reading and commenting. It's good to know people are enjoying reading the story. More twists and turns to come. I’ll be posting the next chapter later on today.
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It was almost lunch time when they finally got to the dining hall. They’d dozed off for a while, exhausted by the flight and its aftermath combined with not having had much sleep the previous night. Then they’d been distracted by the dragons returning. Herebeth caught a wherry that he shared rather messily with Rioth. All in all, it had been a relaxing way to spend a morning and D’gar felt very mellow. As they walked in, he spotted several of the other Fort riders sitting around a table.
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