Who: Lyrra, F'lox, briefly K'rin When: about three days post-Threadfall Where: Weyrling Barracks Summary: Lyrra takes a little revenge on the bronze weyrling who got her and Phinth hurt. This is not a good thing.
Lyrra's burn had kept her out of things for only a couple of days, long enough for the salve to work its healing magic and the skin to begin mending properly around the edges. She still had to be careful, and she still had to return to Kenzie to have it looked at daily – the healer had insisted – but she had returned to most of her duties without too much trouble. Which meant that she could do things like bathe herself and that F'lox could sleep in his own weyr, although she was sorry to see him leave her furs. After a little more than a turn of a sexual freeze-out, fooling around with the brown rider was very, very welcome.
But today, she had more to worry about than the idea of whatever it was that she and F'lox were doing. That she could discuss with Imogen and Kenzie later, once she'd had some time to think about it. Today, K'rin wasn't checking on her every five minutes and F'lox wasn't hovering quite as protectively over her, and T'sga had returned to at least sitting in and watching while someone else took care of his work for him.
Which meant that Lyrra could pay the little brat back for almost getting her sharding dragon killed.
Lyr? Phinth's voice in her mind was curious and mildly concerned. She could feel the anger building up in the green rider, curling up into a sort of big ugly ball in the pit of her lifemate's stomach and burning there. We are all right, my Lyr. We did a good job. K'rin and Valoth told us so, remember?
I remember, Lyrra answered, but she didn't break her determined stride. The weyrlingmaster wasn't anywhere to be seen, and S'bor was never anywhere to be seen, so he was no concern of hers. But he did not do a good job. He broke the rules, Phinth, and he could have gotten us hurt. He could have gotten you hurt, or sent you Between forever. That would have left Lyrra alone, alone without her dragon; she didn't even want to imagine what that would have felt like.
What she wanted to imagine was how it would feel to beat T'sga to a bloody bronze-riding pulp. Phinth's voice retreated from her mind, but she could still feel the green's concern; she was worried. She thought they would get into trouble. How funny, that Phinth was being the responsible one. Lyrra just had to hope that she didn't tattle to Baerth too quickly.