Ariane isn't sure what she was expecting from his rather nonspecific missive, but it wasn't for him to be... well, expecting. Again.
It comes down to Aymeric being a dragon made, rather than born. As Ariane understands it, his body is still following rhythms more appropriate to the elezen he was, not the wyrm he is now. Hence his having borne two broods of hatchlings already, when a pureblooded dragon in peacetime might space theirs out by a decade or more; hence, more atypical still, the regular clutches of unfertilized eggs. Though most if not all dragons lay a dud clutch from time to time, particularly newly mature adults in their first breeding season, those clutches come on a basis of years, not months as Aymeric's have. While they do have Vidofnir's assurances that this will settle down in time, she hopes for his sake that time comes soon.
"Oh, love..." Ariane pauses only to drop her bag by the door and set her gift for him— a very familiar potted plant— on the closest table before she beelines to his side. Wings and eggs in the way make him a difficult man to hug, but she makes an admirable effort. With her arm wrapped around his waist, she snuggles up to him from the side, resting her head upon his shoulder.
"Blanks again?" she says sympathetically, rubbing his egg-swollen belly in gentle circles. What else could they be? Estinien isn't back yet. His continuing absence was pretty obvious when she got here, not to mention she hasn't been mobbed by a flight of excited dragonets greeting their "mother".
"Come, you should sit." She gives him a gentle nudge towards the couch. "You tell me when this started, and I'll tell you all about how the Firmament's coming along, how's that?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2021-11-07 12:56 am (UTC)It comes down to Aymeric being a dragon made, rather than born. As Ariane understands it, his body is still following rhythms more appropriate to the elezen he was, not the wyrm he is now. Hence his having borne two broods of hatchlings already, when a pureblooded dragon in peacetime might space theirs out by a decade or more; hence, more atypical still, the regular clutches of unfertilized eggs. Though most if not all dragons lay a dud clutch from time to time, particularly newly mature adults in their first breeding season, those clutches come on a basis of years, not months as Aymeric's have. While they do have Vidofnir's assurances that this will settle down in time, she hopes for his sake that time comes soon.
"Oh, love..." Ariane pauses only to drop her bag by the door and set her gift for him— a very familiar potted plant— on the closest table before she beelines to his side. Wings and eggs in the way make him a difficult man to hug, but she makes an admirable effort. With her arm wrapped around his waist, she snuggles up to him from the side, resting her head upon his shoulder.
"Blanks again?" she says sympathetically, rubbing his egg-swollen belly in gentle circles. What else could they be? Estinien isn't back yet. His continuing absence was pretty obvious when she got here, not to mention she hasn't been mobbed by a flight of excited dragonets greeting their "mother".
"Come, you should sit." She gives him a gentle nudge towards the couch. "You tell me when this started, and I'll tell you all about how the Firmament's coming along, how's that?"