To Old Friends and Promotions

Writers: Estelle, Heather
Date Posted: 25th November 2020

Characters: M'gan, Rasme
Description: M'gan celebrates his promotion with Rasme
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 5, day 4 of Turn 10
Notes: Mentioned: D'hol, Kapera

Rasme

M'gan slid down from Isarth's back after the bronze had carried him to
the upper level of the cliff, and rested a hand on his lifemate's warm
hide in thanks. Then his long strides took him along the ledge to the
area where the goldriders' weyrs were. He carried a bottle of good wine
from the Vintner Hall that he'd set aside in the hope of just such an
occasion, though he hadn't expected it to come so quickly.

He reached Piketh's weyr and bowed to the gold, addressing her politely.
"Good day, Piketh. I was hoping to see your rider, will she receive me?"

Piketh moved her head to survey the bronzerider before shuttering her
eyes and lifting the tip of her tail, as if allowing him entrance.

"There's the Weyr's newest Wingleader," Rasme said with a smile as M'gan
entered. Her enormous collection of hides reference dragonhealing had
been cleared from the many different places around the weyr where they
were normally scattered, and moved to a single shelf out of the way.

He grinned and lifted up the bottle for inspection. "News travels fast.
I was hoping you might like to celebrate with me? It's a very nice red
from the valleys of Amber Hills, or so the Master Vintner assured me."

"I would love to help you celebrate, M'gan. Come in," she waved him in.
"From Amber Hills, huh? I have heard plenty of people bragging on the
vintages so I'm eager to test it out."

"As am I. They're proud of their wines in the North, too, but I thought
one from my home continent would be fitting." He removed the cork from
the bottle and poured out a glass for each of them. "This was a
surprise, and a welcome one. I was hoping for a promotion, but I half
expected to have to serve a Turn or two as wingsecond first, build up
some trust."

"Sometimes experience speaks for itself," Rasme said as she took one of
the glasses and raised it. "To old friends and promotions."

"Old friends, and promotions," he repeated, clinking his glass to hers
before taking a sip. The wine was good, smooth on his tongue and
bursting with flavor, and he sighed in delight. "That's good. And I'd
best enjoy it, because tomorrow the work starts. I'm taking over from a
very highly regarded Wingleader, from what I hear. Did you ever meet D'hol?"

"No, I didn't, but he certainly left behind plenty of rumors and talk."
Rasme said, trying to recall some of the things she'd heard since she
had been there. "I heard he had a volatile relationship with the
Weyrleader, so for him to remain a Wingleader, he must have been good."

"I suppose as a Weyrleader, you would put up with a lot to have a
competent man in charge. Thread does tend to make personal problems seem
insignificant, doesn't it?" M'gan's thoughtful expression suddenly
turned to one of wicked amusement. "I was hoping you'd have all the
gossip! I can't ask the wingriders, obviously, and you have to take what
bronzeriders say about each other with a grain of salt. There's more
ambition and rivalry between us than high-born Holder beauties."

"Well, you are right about that, bronzeriders can be like children."
Rasme grinned cheekily. "The gist of what I know about D'hol is that he
had a greenrider weyrmate, they had a son, a son that could be the
Weyrleaders from a flight, and then apparently D'hol might have gotten
mixed up with Kapera. The greenrider left, and that just stirred the
rumor mill up more. Then D'hol had some life-or-death surgery before he
and Kapera went to Barrier Lake to hopefully win the Weyrleadership."
The goldrider held up her glass. "How is that for gossip?"

"My head is spinning." He put a hand to his forehead in mock amazement.
"I'll have to think up some scandal to get involved in myself, if only
so my wingriders don't find me awfully dull in comparison."

"Keep showing up at my weyr and you'll have rumors plenty," she guaranteed.

"I might at that. Though I think the riders will have heard 'bronzerider
woos goldrider' before," he said, laughing. "I should do something
extravagant, like hiring a harper and serenading you with love ballads
from below your weyr ledge. Or reciting poetry..."

Rasme's blue eye brightened with laughter at the idea. "Oh, I like the
sounds of that. Perhaps having some gaudy bouquet of flowers delivered
to the dragon infirmary? Nothing says romance like a bunch of flowers
left to wilt."

"To the dragon infirmary? Not nearly enough of an audience," M'gan said
cheerfully as he topped up her wine glass. "I'd have it presented to you
in front of the whole dining cavern. That ought to get the gossip flowing."

"Oh, even better! As the flowers are being presented in the Dining
Cavern, an acapella trio of harpers sings a love song."

"Now you're talking. Then we can have a few noisy quarrels, lob
breakable objects at each other, refuse to speak, and wind up with a
joyous reconciliation, just to keep things interesting." He grinned. "I
never thought being the talk of the Weyr could be so much fun."

A wicked smile graced Rasme's lips. "Well, they say the best part of
fighting is making up."

"They might be right." He could speak from experience. M'gan knew he had
a temper, which had got the better of him many a time as a young
bronzerider. "Though these days I like to skip the fight and go straight
to the flowers and making up part. I must be getting mellow with age."

"Agreed." Rasme would much rather spend her time doing things besides
fighting. "I like the age that we are now, I wouldn't want to go back."

"I wouldn't, either. I like to think I haven't done so badly with my
Turns." He thought for a moment, then his lips twitched. "Though, I
wouldn't mind having my twenty-Turn-old body back. The young don't know
their luck."

Rasme the bronzerider a thoroughly look, scanning up and down his body.
"Hm, I don't know, I'd wager there are some twenty-somethings who
wouldn't mind having your body." After all, some muscles and strength
only came from experience.

"Ah, Goldrider, you do know how to flatter a man." M'gan laughed and
raised his glass, though he couldn't help being secretly gratified. He
might be a bit scarred and weathered by the Turns, but dragonriding had
kept him in decent shape. His eyes sparkled as he recalled their trip to
her secluded beach, not long after he'd come to Dolphin Cove. "And you
speak from authority."

"I do speak from authority, but my memory may need refreshing." Rasme
tapped her lips with a finger.

He gave her a sly look and set down his wine glass. "I'd be happy to top
up your expertise on the subject, whenever you're in the mood."

"Well, consider me in the mood, Wingleader," she gave his new title a
little purr.

"Shells, I'd forgotten how good that sounds." M'gan slipped his arms
around her waist, drew her close to him, fully aware of his bronzerider
self-confidence and completely unrepentant. "Being called Wingleader by
a beautiful woman."

"I'll say it more once we get to the bed." Rasme promised, nipping at
his ear lobe with her teeth.

"Mmm." His fingers traced the line of her spine, enjoying the strength
and trim figure of a seasoned rider, and the pleasures that promised, as
they moved towards the goldrider's sleeping quarters. "I knew I could
count on you to give me a celebration to remember."

Last updated on the December 1st 2020

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