Prompting Part XXIV
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Prompts from this post can be filled on the Overflow Post
IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
( Read more... )
Sherlock is a Bronze rider who can tell which Holders are holding back on their tithes and which have youngsters they are hiding from search. He is also the brother of Fort Weyr's Weyrleader: Mycroft. He has a reputation for being a brilliant but untouchable asshole.
Everyone worries that that John and Sherlock are going to kill each other, and do everything they can to keep the two apart. But then John's Green rises....
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Seconding! I'd fill it myself but I've tried writing Pern fanfic before and it just doesn't work.
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;-)
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But your premise is so compelling!
Still. I'm going to just track this and hope someone else takes up the pern-fusion mantle
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I can't make any promises atm, but I have a page of notes about how this fusion would work and I'm assigning characters roles, crafts, Holds of birth, dragons and dragon names...
I'd forgotten how much I love McCaffrey.
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~
They were coming. He could see them: silvery masses in the distance falling from the sky, devouring everything. He felt the revulsion, stomach churning and immediate, that was the natural response that every man or woman on Pern felt towards Thread when they saw it.
And the feeling of dread was compounded. Where were the dragons? Where was Maryth? He had to fly. He had to flame the Thread. That was what his duty as a dragonrider. How could he stand there while Thread fell. He could see it falling, but ( ... )
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She had used to shine brilliantly in the sun, a dazzling green that had never failed to make John grin. But it seemed his illness had taken its toll on her as well. She looked more grey than green, even in the full noon sun.
Now you are well, I shall be well too, she told him, turning one huge pearlescent eye towards him.
“I’d prefer it if you were already well,” he said, raising a hand to her eye-ridge as he had so often done before. Her skin was as soft to the touch as ever. “Have you not eaten?”
You were unwell, Maryth said, as though this answered everything ( ... )
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“Fort?!” J’ohn snapped. “You’re sending me to Fort? You’re exiling me?”
“This is not a punishment, J’ohn. You spent time in Fort hold when you were training at the Healer Hall, so you know the area and even some of the riders there.”
“And if I rode a bronze, you’d still be sending me?” J’ohn asked. His temper was barely reined in.
“This is not a punishment or a banishment, J’ohn. You will always be welcome here in Igen.”
“But you’re sending me half a continent away.”
“Time and distance are no object to dragons.”
“That’s not really the point though, is it?” J’ohn asked, he resolutely downed the rest of his klah and stood up. “How long do I have?” he asked.
“You may leave whenever you are ready.”
“No time like the present, then,” J’ohn said.
“Ella said that you weren’t yet cleared to fly between with your injuries. You should stay until you’re recovered ( ... )
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Of hope and promise on dragon wing!
*
He had, as so many other boys had, longed to be a dragonrider when he was young, looking up at the beasts flying overhead and wondering what it felt like to be up there, but he had never really believed it would happen to him. He had been the son of a small holder, after all: a nobody in the great scheme of things. Little boys from the middle of nowhere did not become dragonriders. It was enough that the healer in his hold had seen he had some talent for the craft and convinced his family to send him to the Healer Crafthall at Fort to be trained, that had been enough, even if sometimes he did still dream of riding a flaming dragon through the skies of Pern. He felt guilty now that the dragon in his dreams had always been bronze or brown.
We hadn’t Impressed then, Maryth said, reading his memories easily. She sounded smug again, which was getting to be a habit he should probably break her of, but he couldn’t help but smile.
And now I would never dream of ( ... )
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The Weyrleader is away, Maryth said. We’re to wait on the heights for Greth and his rider to show us our quarters. She drifted to the heights as instructed, circling slightly to give J’ohn a chance to see their new home. Fort was the oldest Weyr, and you could tell somehow. There was something about the construction in the cliff face that showed clearly. But the differences were in specifics, not generalities. Like all of the Weyrs it was essentially a stone basin, with individual dragon weyrs carved out of the rock face. There was a lake, a plain for herd beasts and, of course, a finger rock and an eye ( ... )
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