(no subject)
Sybil had only ever been given to worrying about her husband. Finances, politics, fashion, these had never concerned her. Once the difficult process of bringing him into the world had been accomplished, she hadn't worried about her son, either. He was healthy, he was bright, and he needn't want for anything. This had even held true since their arrival on the Island- Young Sam had tutors, friends, and got to see his father more than he ever had at home, which she could only think of as a blessing. Come to that, she got to see more of her husband than she could recall having done since they'd met, and she certainly wasn't complaining. Though she knew he would never be happy on the island, because the island was not Ankh-Morpork, and that he could never really be comfortable anywhere because to be blunt, he was just too suspicious a bastard, bless him, she didn't see the days gnawing at him in quite the same way. And this worried her, because she didn't know anymore if this meant he was all right, or if this meant she just couldn't see the ways in which he wasn't.
Watching Young Sam rub down Errol's scales ever so carefully made her smile. She may not have had a breeding pool, but she had her greatest, and it suited her just fine that Sam should learn the basics of dragon-care with Errol. He was rather adept at it, for a three year old. Sitting in the orchard with an open book in her lap and a pen, Sybil was trying her hand at sketching the pair, something she hadn't much done since she'd been a girl. The arrival of her massive school project, presently rolled up and stored in their suite, taking up more room than was entirely comfortable, had set her thoughts to the things she used to do and didn't any more, which was a relief from the place they'd been turning, again and again, since New Years. But not a total relief.
Watching Young Sam rub down Errol's scales ever so carefully made her smile. She may not have had a breeding pool, but she had her greatest, and it suited her just fine that Sam should learn the basics of dragon-care with Errol. He was rather adept at it, for a three year old. Sitting in the orchard with an open book in her lap and a pen, Sybil was trying her hand at sketching the pair, something she hadn't much done since she'd been a girl. The arrival of her massive school project, presently rolled up and stored in their suite, taking up more room than was entirely comfortable, had set her thoughts to the things she used to do and didn't any more, which was a relief from the place they'd been turning, again and again, since New Years. But not a total relief.