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Date Posted: 17:06:29 12/12/04 Sun
Author: T'gan & Chuth, Kestor
Subject: >~<
In reply to: D'ctor ( Romana ) 's message, "Weell.." on 21:30:18 12/06/04 Mon

Leaning against the rock, T'gan is content to bask in silence, though he smiles again as D'ctor philosophizes about the clutch. There's a bit of amusement there, as well as an appreciation of the older rider's point; due to various interruptions, the weyrlings of the last clutch are still lessoning, and Chuth complains daily of the noise. Then again, he might actually enjoy the sounds of children learning. Akema claims to. Of course, Akema makes enough noise herself to drown out fifteen weyrlings.... A loud cracking makes him peer curiously at the clutch again, sending all thoughts of his sister from his mind. After watching this latest Impression, he returns to his previous pose, and the silence stretches out between them until D'ctor speaks. The man's first words make T'gan's gaze fly to the frowning face, curious as to where the other bronzerider is going with the thought. The young man takes a moment to consider the words before replying. "We have enough time to be prepared, if we work hard. By the time Thread comes again, this island might not even be the only place for the dragonriders to protect," T'gan says softly, a note of hopefullness in his voice. "There are still survivors all over Pern, and the disasters are over. When people start organizing again, we can protect them, even if we don't find them soon enough to help them rebuild. We don't just protect Pern from Thread, or at least we don't have to limit ourselves to that. Someday, maybe even within our lifetimes, we can search out other survivors wherever they've settled and reestablish some form of civilization. There's enough bounty here on New Isle that we won't even have to demand tithes from them while they're trying to rebuild, and with the dragons, we can serve as the line of communication between them." When his eyes lock with D'ctor's, there's a spark of passion there, a hesitant sort of flame that doesn't seem to be sure it belongs there but wants to burn anyway.

The last hatchling is leaving the Sands, and Chuth abruptly rouses from the funk he's sunk into. T'gan, your little flitterbeasts are harassing me. Take them to the celebration, why don't you? There's nothing to stand guard over now. There's an undertone of amusement as he informs his rider of this. Besides, a little more food couldn't hurt D'ctor.

Blinking, T'gan shakes his head, looking away from D'ctor. "Chuth is telling us to get to the celebration," he tells the older bronzerider with a brief grin. "After you, D'ctor." He gestures towards the Lower Caverns, smiling.

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