Just Like Old Times

Writers: Estelle, Heather
Date Posted: 3rd November 2020

Characters: M'gan, Rasme
Description: M'gan meets an old friend, Rasme, at his new Weyr
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 2, day 18 of Turn 10
Notes: Mentioned: D'hol, N'vanik
This happens before M'gan's promotion to Wingleader

Rasme

M'gan woke early on his second day at Dolphin Cove Weyr, the sun
streaming in from the entrance to the bronzerider's weyr he'd been
allocated. A light breeze stirred the curtain between his sleeping
quarters and the main weyr. Already, it was growing warm, much more so
than he'd been accustomed to in his turns at High Reaches, so he rose
and searched through the still unpacked bags for the lightest clothing
he owned, then set out to find a bathing room.

When he was washed and dressed, feeling refreshed, he reached out
mentally for Isarth and found that the bronze was still deeply and
contentedly asleep in his new couch. Smiling, he decided he'd better try
and find his way to the dining cavern himself.

By following some other riders, and his nose, he managed to get there
without getting lost and headed over to the long tables where weyrfolk
were helping themselves to breakfast. M'gan was about to join the line
when, seeing a woman with goldrider's knots approaching from another
direction at the same time, he politely held back and gestured for her
to go first.

He blinked as she turned towards him. Surely she was familiar, but it
had been Turns... "Rasme?"

Turning her head at the sound of her name, Rasme fastened one striking
blue eye on the face of the bronzerider, his shoulder knots registering
before his face. "... M'gan?" It had been Turns, several Turns, since
she had seen the face in front of her, and even though it had a bit more
weathering than she remembered, it was unmistakably the face of a
childhood friend.

"The very same. I didn't know you were here!" He realized she was
wearing Dolphin Cove knots, too, and grinned, delighted. "Thought you
were still back at Vista Point. How's Piketh? And the children? Though
shells, they must all be grown now."

"They are, except for one that you never met, Casmari, she's only nine."
Rasme motioned for M'gan to walk with her to the service table to
retrieve breakfast. "Piketh is well, she never rose again, but she can
still fly."

"Ah, yes. I'm sorry to hear that." He'd been in the North by then, but
word of the injury of two queens had spread quickly through the Weyrs.
The news of the near disaster at Barrier Lake had reminded him of it,
though thankfully that had ended without harm coming to either gold. To
be able to fly, though, the pure pleasure of soaring high above the
ground, at one with your lifemate...that was something.

They reached the front of the queue and M'gan began helping himself to
the food. "Come and join me for breakfast? We've got a lot of catching
up to do."

"With pleasure," Rasme agreed, curious to learn more of what had
happened in the Turns since they had been acquainted, and of course the
details that had brought M'gan to Dolphin Cove.

The bronzerider filled his plate and followed Rasme to an empty table in
a quieter corner of the dining cavern. Once they'd settled, he poured
klah for both of them. "Well. I don't suppose either of us expected we'd
both end up here! But it is good to see a friendly face." He studied her
knots. "You're working as a dragonhealer?"

"I am, senior journeyman," she said, swiping an escaped tendril of her
frizzy blonde hair behind her ear. "I came to Dolphin Cove to hopefully
earn my Master knots."

"Ah, yes. I'd heard the Infirmary here has an excellent reputation, for
both dragons and riders. Though I didn't come for that myself, thank
Faranth," he went on, lest she think he'd retired here with some injury.
"Isarth is fighting fit and keen to join his new Wing."

Rasme's eye lit with the news. "Congratulations, then. You are going to
take D'hol's vacated spot?"

"That, I don't know. I've heard that his Wingsecond is leading the wing,
until the Weyrleader makes a decision," M'gan said. "Though I hope I'm
in with a chance! But I imagine there's a fair few bronzeriders who'd
like to lead Cyclone Wing." More likely, he thought, there might be a
wingsecond's rank opening up, as someone was promoted into the spot.
He'd come here for a new start, and that meant he and Isarth would need
to prove themselves capable fighters.

Rasme felt that N'vanik was probably more than a pretty face, although
the jury was still out on that, and so he would be a fool not to pick
someone with M'gan's experience to lead a Wing. "Are you bringing a
weyrmate, or family, with you?" she asked.

M'gan shook his head. "No, I came alone. Never could find anyone who'd
put up with me," he joked. There had been children who might have been
his, one boy in particular among the weyrbrats at Vista Point who'd had
a look of him, but he'd never built a close bond with any of them.
Sometimes, now he was older, he regretted that. That lad must be a grown
man now...

"But no-one knows me here, except you, so maybe I've got a chance." He
shook off those gloomy thoughts. "I'm a man of mystery."

"Women love a man of mystery, you will be fighting off greenriders left
and right." Rasme grinned. Women also tended to love a bronzerider in
leadership, or one who had been in leadership before. There was
something to be said for experience.

"I knew there was a reason I applied for that transfer," he said with a
wink. "How about you? Is there a man in your life at the moment?"

"The father of my youngest daughter, she's nine, is around. He still
lives at Vista Point, though, so we keep things fairly light and open."
Although she thought C'ris might challenge that statement. She
frequently got the impression he would like something more concrete,
more exclusive, but it wasn't a commitment Rasme had ever wanted to make.

"I see. Anyone I might remember?" M'gan asked, thinking back. He didn't
recall Rasme being weyrmated, or in a long-lasting relationship when
they'd been at Vista Point.

"I doubt you would know him," Rasme admitted. "He is twenty turns my
junior," her grin began a little more toothy.

"Lucky fellow." M'gan smiled broadly. He couldn't help recalling when
he'd been twenty Turns younger or more, and appreciated the experience
of some of the older greenriders. "Is he a rider?"

"Yes, C'ris rides a blue." Rasme typically enjoyed the slightly raised
eyebrow that people gave her when they heard C'ris was a bluerider.

His surprise didn't disappoint her. It was unusual in M'gan's
experience, since a blue couldn't hope to fly a gold, and not every man
could handle that difference in rank. Though, he supposed, plenty of
bronzeriders had relationships of one sort or another with greenriders.
He was hardly innocent in that regard. And after their long friendship,
he certainly wasn't going to start questioning Rasme's choices now.

"Well, all I can say is, there must have been some disappointed
bronzeriders back at Vista Point." He grinned. "Light and open or not,
I'm glad for you. You deserve some good fortune."

Rasme waved her hand. "The bronzeriders quit calling once Piketh
couldn't rise any more. C'ris is a good man, though. It has been a good
thing."

"It certainly seems that way." She looked more relaxed than he
remembered, M'gan thought, more comfortable in herself, and it pleased
him to see that in an old friend. "But we've still got Turns to catch up
on. How are the children? Your older two Impressed, didn't they?" He
remembered that from before he'd left for the North. "How about the others?"

"Yes, my eldest two, D'men and Xasvi, both Impressed. The next, Asmrey,
is a journeywoman harper. My next two children, J'mer and R'mar, both
Impressed as well, one to a blue, the other bronze." All of this was
related to M'gan with a tone of motherly pride. "My youngest, Casmari, I
haven't decided yet what she will be, whether she'll impress or craft,
or perhaps both. She's willful and independent, like me, but charming
and humorous, like her father."

He laughed aloud. "A dangerous combination. The Weyrlingmaster had
better watch out in a few Turns." It sounded like they were all doing
well in life, though it couldn't be easy to have four children in the
Wings in a Pass, and again he felt a moment's regret for his own choices.

"Yes, she's already giving the creche a run for their marks." Rasme knew
that Casmari was a handful, but she sort of encouraged it, she wanted
her daughter to have the fire and grit necessary to live during a Pass.
"Well, if you need any showing around, or want to know where a nice
secluded piece of beach is, just let me know and I'd be happy to take
you." There was more than one invitation in the tone of her voice.

"Ah, the beaches. I'd been in the North so long I was starting to think
they were a myth." Though all of Pern was within reach of Isarth's
wings, his duties as wingleader hadn't often allowed for it and there
was something to be said for being able to almost walk out of your weyr
onto the sands. But somewhere more private, perhaps... M'gan gave her a
decidedly mischievous look. "I like the sound of secluded."

Rasme's grin matched the bronzerider's look. "Good. I know the perfect
place." The gleam in the goldrider's eye faded just a bit as she
suddenly conversed mentally with her lifemate. "Well," she said,
focusing on M'gan once again, "duty calls. I have an appointment in the
dragon infirmary. It was good catching up with you, M'gan."

"It was. Have Piketh tell Isarth whenever you find yourself free for a
trip to the beach. It'll be just like old times." He winked and raised a
hand in farewell. Old times, indeed...and there were a few memories he
wouldn't mind reliving.

Last updated on the November 5th 2020

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Just Like Old Times