Holding On
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: Heather, Iluva
Date Posted: 17th April 2026
Characters: T'erin, N'mar
Description: A little chat about weyrlife over their dragons' suppers
Location: Barrier Lake Weyr
Date: month 10, day 12 of Turn 12
Once he understood what they were for and how they worked, Sceorlath was _so_ excited for his riding straps.
All he heard was: “Come on, buddy. Let’s try this on”, N'mar rustled his handiwork -- leather, coiled, and tight in hand -- and the brown leapt like a feral feline ready to be tamed. The sensation was soft but strange, and soon anticipation overtook him, visibly trembling as the last of the straps were fed around his body.
}:I’m so _big_... I'm so... fast.:{ The skinny brown remarked, awed. }:I'm going to be so fast!:{ Elated, he proceeded to gallop around the barracks like a loose runner for the rest of the afternoon. He also refused to take them off and was still wearing the slightly squished straps when he led his lifemate to his supper later. Visibly trembling once again, Sceorlath's nose was locked high in the air as it practically dripped with the heady scent of iron. }:I’m so _hungry_,:{ he whined.
N’mar rolled his eyes and tossed him a chunk. A moment later his rusty-hued snout was back, so he offered him his bloody palm, which the silly thing still half-heartedly licked. “Nearly done, buddy.” The blade sawed through the rest of the shank with conviction, and there was something satisfying in the way it rent. They didn't have to be cut quite as small now, which sped things up a bit.
As he chucked a few more pieces in the almost full bucket, he noticed T'erin on approach. N'mar waved a red-stained welcome and then finally let Sceorlath at it.
"Hey man," he called. "Oh, and Sceo, make sure you che--”
}:I _am_ chewing.:{ The brown assured him, despite his impossibly fast eyes and jaws oozing with raw meat.
"Enjoying his riding straps?" T'erin asked with an amused twist of his lips. Unlike some of the other Weyrlings, who had never been around blood, butchering the meat had been one of the chores that the healer-turned-bluerider didn't mind.
Sceorlath gurgled a happy wet greeting to his clutchbrother.
"Big time," N'mar answered with a similar quirk to the corners of his mouth and an affectionate pat for his lifemate. "I'm just hoping he calms down by the time I actually have to sit in them. It'd be good to keep some dignity for the rest of training."
"I hope you have experience breaking in runners, because the way he's bouncing around, you're going to need the experience."
Alemeth warbled to Sceorlath, looking at the brown's riding straps curiously. }:Why are you wearing those?:{ he asked.
"_None_." N'mar snorted, though T'erin had made an excellent point -- they'd need to get a lot of practice in before they could even think about getting in the air. "The worst part is that I've never sewn anything in my life. They better hold..."
Jaws chomping overtime, Sceorlath did a quick twirl to show Alemeth how they wrapped around his long, lanky body. }:They make me fly!:{He gushed excitedly. }:No, they make Mine fly! Wait, no... What is it?:{
"You fly. They're so I don't fall off."
}:Yes. That.:{ The brown nodded.
After an afternoon of romping around in them, N'mar still didn't know if the straps had been sewed squished or fastened too loosely, but that was a problem for a little later. Honestly, he was just as excited as his dragon about what they meant.
"Get yours done?" he asked T'erin.
"Yes, after several attempts. They kept being too loose. I've sewn lots of wounds, but I've never tailored leather to fit a _dragon_." T'erin dreaded when Alemeth outgrew his current straps, because then he'd have to endure making more.
"Oh, but that will come in handy soon enough," N'mar said brightly, nodding. His blue eyes did their best to scrutinize his work one last time, ultimately deciding to determine their quality the next time his dragon tried them on. They still had loads of time to learn the finer points and practice them, after all. **Keep up that chewing.** "Have you sewn up many threadscorings?"
"None, really," T'erin said with a shake of his head. "I got here too late to do much in the infirmary before Impressing. What about you?"
"Threadscores? Shells, no. I mean, I saw my ma suture my brother's cheek up after he got a trawling hook caught in it, back when we were boys. Nasty stuff. And all the nets that needed mending, if that counts." N'mar didn't think it did.
"I... don't know if I'd be able to," he mused outloud. "Your father's stomach must be made of iron."
"It's necessary for a healer," was all T'erin said. T'erin thought there was nothing his father could not do, except forgive him for being the son of the woman who had broken his heart.
Last updated on the May 1st 2026