Post by kevna on Sept 13, 2021 19:02:35 GMT -5
Tak'ril - Bronze Agureyth
He couldn’t help but tense with her soft, musing ‘so.’ She wasn’t going to ask how Tasy had died, right? People didn’t normally ask such a sensitive question. So, her question was a relief. His dream was Agureyth now, fishing was a pastime he enjoyed, loved even, but Agureyth was more than anything he could have dreamed up. Still, he turned his hazel eyes on her, considering her. He didn’t say anything to not being able to imagine such a loss. Nobody could until it happened to them. He only nodded at that. “Aye, he’s that, and more. He’s my dream now, so I s’pose I live both dreams for the both of us. My dream, before Aggy, would have been much sadder life than the one I live now, anyway.”
Her wide grin and statement had him smile again, even as he felt the pang he felt. Many would have liked her here. She would have fit in perfectly here. “Aye, she was easy to like.” His soft murmur felt to weighty, and the need for a subject change was apparent. And because he couldn’t help it, and it wasn’t directly about her father, and really she had gotten personal first, he asked, “Was dragonriding always your dream?”
He nodded, “He has a hard time parting with me.” He said teasingly, knowing full well his bronze was still avidly listening in. Oh no, don’t you blame me. You would miss me too much.
True. “Ah, but he would never admit it to you.”
He would have been oblivious of her reaction his suggestion if not for her sudden stillness from the rocking. He glanced at her, unable to read whatever emotion she was experiencing, but suspecting it wasn’t a good one. Shards, what had he said this time? Her lack of words seemed ominous, and then her simple ‘oh,’ all but confirmed he had said the wrong thing. Saved by a fish, and he thanked Faranth as his bait bobbed and the rod he held strained with his catch.
He jerked the rod in order to spear it, denying it any chance for escape, and moved positions to kneeling as he reeled it in. He could feel it’s struggle, and his anticipation grew as he pulled it out of the water, within their sights. He deftly unhooked the whitefish he had snared and held it up appraisingly by it’s fins. It was about a short arm-length long, with a pretty dorsal fin. “Your favorite.” He murmured, remembering her recounting easily enough. He quickly found a rock and with one blow against it, the fish went limp. “Would you accept it, as thanks for letting me fish with you?” He offered it to her, he liked whitefish enough, but he was bound to catch more.