Post by lesa on Jun 10, 2010 10:30:47 GMT -5
C'fael was well and now aware of just how much R'sey must have been annoyed at him during their Hatching. Seriously, this was getting ridiculous, he wanted more than a stolen hour of time to talk to his best friend!
If it wasn't Weyrling Lessons, it was his turn in the Infirmary (which he did not begrudge, except that time two sevendays ago when he had found himself with an entire sevenday on the graveyard shift and yet expected to be up and ready for Weyrling Lessons at dawn - when he was still on Infirmary duty!), no, that was expected, he was a Healer. It was everything else that got in the way - R'sey's wanderings eating up the hours, taking care of their dragonets - all he wanted was a chunk of time in which he could talk with his friend, or do more than just spar with his friend. They always only seemed to be sparring, whether with weapons or bodies or words. No actual deep conversation. No just sitting there together, he listening while R'sey relaxed himself by playing the violin.
It was maddening. So C'fael sulked, quietly, into his bowl of stew. The odd time between the formal noon and evening meals, that was when he had to eat his noon meal - Weyrling Lessons and an Infirmary short-shift had kept him from eating sooner. The blond shifted in his seat, rotating his shoulders back to listen to the crack of tendons grating against bone gratefully. That felt better, at least.
If it wasn't Weyrling Lessons, it was his turn in the Infirmary (which he did not begrudge, except that time two sevendays ago when he had found himself with an entire sevenday on the graveyard shift and yet expected to be up and ready for Weyrling Lessons at dawn - when he was still on Infirmary duty!), no, that was expected, he was a Healer. It was everything else that got in the way - R'sey's wanderings eating up the hours, taking care of their dragonets - all he wanted was a chunk of time in which he could talk with his friend, or do more than just spar with his friend. They always only seemed to be sparring, whether with weapons or bodies or words. No actual deep conversation. No just sitting there together, he listening while R'sey relaxed himself by playing the violin.
It was maddening. So C'fael sulked, quietly, into his bowl of stew. The odd time between the formal noon and evening meals, that was when he had to eat his noon meal - Weyrling Lessons and an Infirmary short-shift had kept him from eating sooner. The blond shifted in his seat, rotating his shoulders back to listen to the crack of tendons grating against bone gratefully. That felt better, at least.