WHO: F'lessan and OPEN WHAT: Wandering WHERE: Around town WHEN: Monday WARNINGS: None expected/TBD STATUS: Open/Ongoing
Well, then.
F'lessan was not the sort to let things get him down easily, he was a cheerful young man, all in all. But being trapped in this strange place, even if F'nor and the Weyrleader were here, was not exactly according to his plans. After all, with all the fascinating discoveries that they had been making on the Southern Continent, and the very real possibility that they would be able to stop Thread all together, F'lessan really wanted to be there. To do something that might actually give him a name for himself, an identification other than 'Weyrwoman Lessa's son' or 'Weyrleader F'lar's son.'
Of course, according to Weyr tradition, they hadn't raised him, but they hadn't denied his parentage, either. So everyone had known his entire life that he was the son of the pair who had saved Pern, and that had, in a sense, defined him. Even his Impression of Golanth was something that was expected of him, rather than something he achieved on his own.
I chose you. Golanth said firmly as his thoughts drifted in this unpleasant direction. They did not choose you for me, or make me choose you. I chose you and I am yours and you are mine forever.
F'lessan smiled, turning to the dragon and wrapping his arms around its neck as it lowered it to him. Even if he had been expected to Impress a bronze from the moment of his birth, it had been the best experience of his life, the very best.
The best of mine, too, said Golanth, replying to his thoughts as his eyes swirled brightly.
Pulling himself from his unhappy thoughts, F'lessan decided to make his way into town. After all, there were people to meet, and some of the girls - if the pictures on the network meant anything - were pretty far from bad looking. Golanth offered his leg, and F'lessan hopped onto his back as the bronze leapt into the air, beating his wings hard to get the lift needed with his massive size. He, like his father, preferred the lazy way of simply falling off his weyr cliff and letting the winds lift him up, but there were few cliffs around here with which to do that.
When he was high enough, F'lessan visualized the top of Stark Tower to the dragon, and after three seconds off utter cold and dark between, they burst out above the town. Gliding down, the Dragon touched down gently in the middle of the street, and F'lessan dismounted, rather hoping there was someone around to have seen his rather dramatic entrance.