Writing Prompt: What if
So, I had been thinking about Gans if he hadn't impressed. But G'thon and E'sere are more alike than they might prefer, and where Eseren goes to his mother's home Tillek to become a steward, Ganathon would have returned home to Tillek to... become a steward.
I considered Ganathon the harper, a possible outcome if he hadn't so unwisely kissed (or been caught kissing) little Lexine, or perhaps if he'd been taken on in apprenticeship turns before that. But Ganathon the harper could have everything he wished for without ever cause to think he hadn't himself earned it, from dust to diamonds. He might have been an interesting rival for Kazimir instead of a bizarre friend.
But in the end I thought this would interest you all most.
Gans awoke some time after nightfall. He was, as sleep ever made him, slightly disoriented. He turned onto his back and stared into the dim glowlight, and slowly pieced together his mind.
One of his first thoughts was of Lexine, but it was a hazy idea, formless still. He set it aside and stifled a yawn, closing his eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths slowly to ease his weary lungs.
He thought next of E'sere. Morelenth had flown magnificently, there was no doubt of that. His wingriders would be cheering and jeering him in the morning, and Gans considered for a moment whether he should make any overture of support. No, he decided, slipping a long hand from the sheets to cover the yawn that insisted on coming through anyway. E'sere was a wingleader, many turns since proven, and reliable enough in the air. He should need no overtures to soothe his ego.
Sinopa would make them anyway, Gans realized after a moment that might have been not very long, or a bit of a nap. Sinopa would be there for E'sere right now, most likely. Gans smiled crookedly to think of it, shaking his head in the darkness. He could only thank Lexine for that match. It had saved him from no small amount of trouble, if he imagined E'sere's other proclivities correctly.
Ah, proclivities. Ruvoth hadn't even made a showing. Sooner or later this was going to become urgent. A sigh swelled in Gans' chest but came out in the form of another yawn, one that stretched his jaw. Why did he always have to have such a full mind and wake up in the middle of the night after these things? It seemed hardly fair. He'd worked hard.
Out on the ledge Hirth, too, yawned. I worked hard, he corrected his rider's righteousness, mildly.
There was a moment of not unfond silence between them. Gans felt more awake, and stared into the glowlight of his weyr.
Vasyath has gone to Telgar, Hirth noted then.
Gans laughed silently in the dark. She would, he replied his dragon, not meaning Vasyath. Hirth rumbled softly and subsided, unwilling to wake the queen beside him.
Gans leaned up onto his side and reached over a hand to tuck back an endless strand of blue-black hair from the weyrwoman's face. He'd offer a transfer to J'cor, and put that to right as best he could stand. Maybe they'd have a new weyrlingmaster in the bargain.
I considered Ganathon the harper, a possible outcome if he hadn't so unwisely kissed (or been caught kissing) little Lexine, or perhaps if he'd been taken on in apprenticeship turns before that. But Ganathon the harper could have everything he wished for without ever cause to think he hadn't himself earned it, from dust to diamonds. He might have been an interesting rival for Kazimir instead of a bizarre friend.
But in the end I thought this would interest you all most.
Gans awoke some time after nightfall. He was, as sleep ever made him, slightly disoriented. He turned onto his back and stared into the dim glowlight, and slowly pieced together his mind.
One of his first thoughts was of Lexine, but it was a hazy idea, formless still. He set it aside and stifled a yawn, closing his eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths slowly to ease his weary lungs.
He thought next of E'sere. Morelenth had flown magnificently, there was no doubt of that. His wingriders would be cheering and jeering him in the morning, and Gans considered for a moment whether he should make any overture of support. No, he decided, slipping a long hand from the sheets to cover the yawn that insisted on coming through anyway. E'sere was a wingleader, many turns since proven, and reliable enough in the air. He should need no overtures to soothe his ego.
Sinopa would make them anyway, Gans realized after a moment that might have been not very long, or a bit of a nap. Sinopa would be there for E'sere right now, most likely. Gans smiled crookedly to think of it, shaking his head in the darkness. He could only thank Lexine for that match. It had saved him from no small amount of trouble, if he imagined E'sere's other proclivities correctly.
Ah, proclivities. Ruvoth hadn't even made a showing. Sooner or later this was going to become urgent. A sigh swelled in Gans' chest but came out in the form of another yawn, one that stretched his jaw. Why did he always have to have such a full mind and wake up in the middle of the night after these things? It seemed hardly fair. He'd worked hard.
Out on the ledge Hirth, too, yawned. I worked hard, he corrected his rider's righteousness, mildly.
There was a moment of not unfond silence between them. Gans felt more awake, and stared into the glowlight of his weyr.
Vasyath has gone to Telgar, Hirth noted then.
Gans laughed silently in the dark. She would, he replied his dragon, not meaning Vasyath. Hirth rumbled softly and subsided, unwilling to wake the queen beside him.
Gans leaned up onto his side and reached over a hand to tuck back an endless strand of blue-black hair from the weyrwoman's face. He'd offer a transfer to J'cor, and put that to right as best he could stand. Maybe they'd have a new weyrlingmaster in the bargain.