While so much of the South seemed to be different when it came to their customs and the like, the young man was happy to discover that when it came to fighting the ancient scourge of Thread, there was no difference between South and North. The general practices and attitude was the very same: burn it from the skies, make sure it didn’t reach the ground, and if it did
reach the ground, burn it in the burrow as quickly as possible to ensure minimal loss of vegetation or life. The Istan rider was surprised to find, however, that it seemed as if the Atrician riders had streamlined the process to make fighting Thread a bit more efficient than the North had, which was interesting considering that Atricis hadn’t been established here in the South for very long. After all, the Northern Weyrs had had centuries to figure it out, and even then there were far more casualties than he thought were truly necessary. So he could certainly appreciate the fact that Atricis was trying not
to cause so much pain while protecting their territories, and he found himself quickly deciding that despite the differences in customs, he could very easily see himself calling this Southern Weyr his new home.
Beside him, his dragon rumbled happily despite the heavy ashburn that marred his handsome hide. New Atricis has been very kind to us thus far, my chosen. I think we will both like it here very much.
The rider nodded in agreement, knowing the bronze was right and knowing that perhaps things would start looking up for them from here on out. There had been far too many bronzes at Ista for them to truly step up to the plate, the current leadership there had preferred allowing the older bronzes to keep their positions instead of allowing the newer blood to put in their bit of input. Or even allowing the younger bronzes and browns to gain some much needed experience, so that they could become better integrated in the inner workings of the Weyr, and so they wouldn’t be completely lost on the off chance that one of the younger ones did
catch the senior queen during a flight. But Ista was a far different Weyr, and far too lax on letting the older males do whatever they felt like for his liking. But they were here now, and it seemed as if this Weyr was more willing to let the younger generations have a chance. Which would definitely be a plus for both himself and his beloved dragon.
The hospitality of New Atricis was one that D’aen had welcomed with open arms, and the young bronzerider was eager to see what this new home would have in store for the two of them. It seemed as if this split second decision of his to leave Ista for the South was certainly turning out to be the right one for the both of them, even if Rhovanioth had happened to be injured during their first Fall in their new home. The injury wasn’t a particularly bad one, honestly, but the fact that the bronze got injured at all was something that D’aen wasn’t terribly proud of. It didn’t speak well for them at this early junction in their time at their new home was… embarrassing to him, to say the least. Beside him, Rhovanioth offered a croon, leaning his head down in order to gently nuzzle against the man’s shoulder in an encouraging fashion. You’re right, my lad,
the rider thought with a faint smile, reaching up to rest his hand against the bronze’s muzzle. Everything will be just fine here, and I’m worrying far too much.
Of course I’m right,
the bronze commented, his mindvoice not haughty in the slightest despite the comment. If you would realize that I’m right so often, you would do well for yourself, my rider.
The bronze rumbled in amusement as they waited patiently for a healer to arrive to tend to his injury. It wasn’t a particularly bad one, after all, and there were others that were far more injured than himself. He could afford to wait just a little while so that the others could be tended to. However, it seemed as if they wouldn’t have to wait a very long time to be looked over after all, as another rider walked up to them, the man seeming to glance Rhovanioth over in a calculated way that seemed to imply that he knew what he was doing. The bronze tilted his head slightly towards the newcomer then, but didn't say anything that would announce the other’s arrival until the older man rested a hand on his rider’s shoulder. Ah, look at that, my boy. It would appear as though we don't have to wait that long after all!
D’aen, on the other hand, had been far too busy jerking slightly when he felt the pressure of another’s hand on his shoulder to pay attention to what his dragon was saying. Of course, he quickly schooled himself back into a more relaxed state of mind, turning to face the other man with a slightly raised eyebrow. He listened intently to what he had to say, offering a relieved smile as he ruminated on what he was asked. “Would I mind?” he repeated, his tone slightly incredulous at the thought that the other man even thought that he would mind such a thing. Of course, he supposed that would be because he didn’t know anything about the other rider, and if he had been in a different position, he actually might
have minded. But it was a different situation, and the other man looked as if he knew what he was doing. “By all means,” he commented, offering a warm smile as he took a step to the side, allowing the other rider the chance to reach Rhovanioth. “I’m D’aen, by the way, and this handsome devil here is Rhovanioth. What’s your name, and your dragon’s?”