Thread: Fan Fiction: The Skyboom (v2 - rewrite)
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Old Sep 24 2008, 11:24 AM   #2
D. M. Domini
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Join Date: Aug 2007
Location: Chicagoland

Fan of: Afra Lyon, and Robinton!
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Default Re: The Skyboom (v2 - rewrite)

Chapter Two

F'nor was a steady-looking man of middle years, who rode a brown dragon named Canth, and he vaguely reminded Robinton of someone he couldn't quite put his finger on. Although that wasn't surprising; if the man was weyrbred, perhaps Robinton had met one of his relatives during the years he'd grown up at Benden Hold. Although, considering the circumstances...assuming that there might be people left in this world that he actually knew.

F'nor gave Robinton an inscrutable look, then tilted his head to look at his dragon, who seemed to be eyeing Robinton with interest. It was difficult to tell, but that's what Robinton thought was happening when the dragon snaked his head around to face him. A moment later, F'nor's brow furrowed, and he said to the Harpers, "Are you sure?"

Sebell gaped at him for a moment, then laughed.

"No offense meant," Menolly apologized for Sebell's behavior. "It's been a long day, and it just got a little...stranger."

"I'd hate to meet the rest of the Hall if I'm considered 'little'," Robinton quipped at her. "It might make me feel un-masculine, and unsure of myself." He smiled in amusement at his own joke.

Menolly blinked at him, and Sebell stopped laughing long enough to make the clichéd drum-and-cymbal bashing sound.

"Are you alright?" Menolly asked Robinton, looking concerned.

"There is a small possibility that I am still drunk," Robinton confessed to her. "The hangover hasn't set in quite like it will once the alcohol has made it out of my system."

F'nor made a sound, and Sebell stopped laughing. "There was wine involved in this?"

"I hesitate to dignify it with the moniker of 'wine'," Robinton said.

"Perhaps there was a reason he never told us of this," Menolly muttered softly to herself. Robinton still wasn't sure how he could have known to tell something to people he didn't knew, but agreed that he normally didn't feel that it was necessary to enlighten everyone as to his more embarrassing moments, which this could well turn out being.

"Was F'lon drunk?" F'nor asked.

Robinton sighed. "At one point. Probably not now. I think the lightening scared it out of him. Not literally," he added, realizing there had probably been a very good chance of one or the both of them vomiting all over the bronze dragon. Robinton resolved never to fly drunk again. That's a horrible thing. He also resolved to apologize to Simanith for putting the dragon in the position where he could be possibly puked upon.

My sire will appreciate that, someone told him. A second later it percolated through Robinton's mind that it must be the brown, Canth, speaking.

"Ah, yes, well..." he told the brown awkwardly.

"Canth, you spoke to him?" F'nor asked.

"He did," Robinton confirmed. "It's an honor," he added quickly, knowing that some riders could get bent out of shape at such things.

F'nor gave the dragon a look that said, well?

Caneth shrugged, an interesting movement to see on a dragon, and lost interest in Robinton.

Another inscrutable look from the dragonrider. "Well, let's go see what F'lon has to say," F'nor said, and gestured towards his dragon.

"Er," Robinton said. "I don't have any riding leathers."

Everyone looked Robinton over, as if he'd made an elementary mistake. And perhaps he had, given F'lon's earlier words about it. He felt the urge to say something melodramatic about his pride, but decided it would hit too close to home, given that he was now obviously a drunk too stupid to come in out of the cold--or rather, put on his riding leathers when mounting a dragon. And also, at this rate, it might be better to put a cork in it until his head cleared, and he had a better handle on the situation. There were some very strange vibrations operating underneath this conversation, and he still was not sure what they signified.

"Stay here," Sebell said. "I'll be right back."

Robinton stayed put, and slid his hands into his pockets.

The three of them were silent, and after a few moments, the silence began to be awkward, and Robinton found himself wanting to say something. But what could he say? Would Menolly know any of the songs he knew? Had there been a final Gathering of the season at Benden today for these people? Even if there had been, best to stay away from that topic. He didn't want to make himself to be a boor on top of being a drunken, stupid lout, and retelling what had happened to get him thrown out of the Harper's tent early would certainly do that. And he certainly didn't want to talk about the weather. He could come up with better conversation than that.

"You're not in trouble," Menolly offered him after a while.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"You look very serious."

Robinton thought about this. He felt serious, underneath the Harper part of him that was struggling to keep a happier veneer up. "I arrive home and everyone I knew has been replaced by people I don't know. I'm sure you're all very nice people, but it is rather strange and unsettling."

Neither of them had a reply right away for that, but Menolly looked a bit sad.

Then there was a noise behind them, and Sebell returned, with a riding jacket and gloves over one arm. "Apologies for the delay; I'd forgotten where I'd kept this. Here you go," and he gave the jacket and gloves to Robinton.

Robinton shucked his gitar case carefully, lowering it to the ground by its strap, and pulled on the jacket. He could smell the scent of herbs that kept insects away from the leather during storage. It was a bit stiff from disuse, but when he slipped it over his shoulders, it fit surprisingly well--it actually made it down to his knees. It was also of particularly fine quality, the leather well cared for, the lining inside warm and soft; he immediately felt warmer and more comfortable upon donning it. Robinton suddenly wondered with a bit of dismay if the Masterharper had lent him one of his riding jackets; they were of a similar build, and this jacket was no Apprentice-work. "My eternal thanks for lending me this. I've gone through between unprotected enough times today!"

"How many times?" F'nor asked.

"Twice, but the first time I was soaking wet."

"Ugh," Menolly said.

"You might want to see if a Healer can dose you with something preventative," F'nor advised. "Perhaps Brekke can get you something when we arrive. Going between while soaked isn't something that's particularly good to do."

"Yes," Robinton agreed. "I found that out the hard way."

F'nor nodded, and motioned them up to his dragon. The brown obediently crouched so that they could climb up his shoulder.

And the four of them mounted up on Canth, and a few moments later, launched towards the dark night sky.
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