A Father Son Sands Picnic

Writers: Heather, Shawna
Date Posted: 11th April 2026

Characters: N'kayden, N'kevyn
Description: A father-son lunch
Location: Barrier Lake Weyr
Date: month 13, day 11 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: Aydhan, Q’vettan, Liannor, D’brul

N'kayden

N'kevyn

Your mother abandoned me. Bring lunch. - Dad

Citrine had delivered the note to N’kayden already opened and significantly rumpled, as if he were not the first one she had brought it to. The gold had then squawked at him with increasing shrillness until she was finally rewarded with a treat, and then disappeared without waiting to see if there was going to be a response.

When N’kayden finally arrived at the Hatching sands, N’kevyn was lounging back in one of the chairs, his feet up, snoring faintly. He and Avicath were alone for the moment, Tymborikath having left them to ‘babysit’ while she stretched her wings and found food. All that really meant was that the massive bronze had parked his rump near the entrance, so anyone entering from the outside had to pass directly by him. Not that he was a particularly effective guard, letting N’kayden pass by with a welcoming rumble instead of a challenge.

“Ehem,” N’kayden set down the basket of lunch with a heavy thud as he stood before his snoozing father. “Looks like you’re working hard,” the young brownrider smirked, having just come from wingdrills himself.

N’kevyn woke with a startled snorting sound, his feet falling with a thud. “There you are.” Yawning, he took a quick look around, checking that all was still well, the eggs still undisturbed. “I’ll have you know I am hard at work making sure no one with nefarious intentions shows up. It’s enough to make one hungry. Join me for lunch?”

“Since I went through the trouble of fetching it, I claim half this basket,” N’kayden said. He then added, “What would you even do if someone ‘nefarious’ showed up?”

“Obviously I would overpower and dispose of them,” N’kevyn said cheerily. “And then Avicath would eat the evidence so as not to upset your mother.” Across the Sands, there was a puff of sand as Avicath gave a disapproving snort.

“If Avicath got riled up every time you walked by, you’d have been able to sneak out a lot less when you were younger. He’d stop a stranger, probably.”

“I think a more frightening threat would be for Avicath to _sit_ on someone,” the young brownrider said with a pointed glance.

“Nah, the sand is nice and deep. They’d just get pushed down under his glorious rump. And I don't want to hear any more fat jokes- Avi is clearly in prime condition,” N’kevyn gestured towards the mass of eggs.

“I think Tymborikath would take credit for those,” N’kayden said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the eggs.

“She is clearly also in prime condition,” N’kevyn allowed graciously. “But Avicath helped. Your mother has threatened to ban him next time, though. Apparently she wants more mixing of the bloodlines, despite his clear superiority.” He sounded more amused than bothered by that potential eventuality. “Big clutches are good, though. Good odds for your sister. And if any blue would like her, it’s an Avicath baby. He’s very fond of you children.” Avicath adored anything his rider adored, of course.

“Weyrleader Q’vettan _could_ ban Avicath from the flight,” N’kayden mused, partly because he was still fascinated by the way just the mention of the man’s name made his father get that look in his eyes.

“He wouldn’t. He’s not in the habit of giving orders he knows wouldn’t be followed, and he couldn’t punish me in any way that would bother me enough to stop me,” N’kevyn pointed out. “What’s he going to do- transfer me and risk losing Barrier Lake’s only other laying gold? Somewhere would make room for your mother. Nah, if Avi sits out the next flight, the request will come from Aydhan.”

N’kayden thought it would be an interesting scenario. The young brownrider angled a look at his father, “What’s going on with you and that greenrider in your Wing?”

“Liannor?” N’kevyn smiled, “She’s fun. We’ve been exploring the hiking in the area. Why, what have you heard?”

“You mean about the goo-goo eyes you make at each other during Wing meetings?” N’kayden knew his parents sometimes ‘saw other people,’ and even though he’d been raised around it in the Weyr his entire life…. It was still a little weird.

“Listen, D’brul is just overly sensitive. He’s a delicate man who is prone to exaggeration. We just had a friendly discussion about whether pants that tight were in regulation. I certainly think they should be if they aren’t,” N’kevyn quipped.

“Nothing interesting ever happens at the Skybroom meetings,” N’kayden groaned. “K’lvin is all ‘thread’-this and ‘duties’-that. Would it kill him to throw a party for the Wing or something?”

“Clearly you need to help raise wing morale. Tell everyone but K’lvin that the next wing meeting is a potluck. He can’t object when everyone shows up with food. Everyone loves a wing meeting with food,” N’kevyn advised.

N’kayden snapped his fingers and pointed at his dad. “That is a fantastic idea.” And then, “Why aren’t you like… a Wingleader or Wingsecond or something?”

“Do you know what I learned when you were children? Being in charge of someone else is stressful.” Shaking his head solemnly, he said, “Your mother warned me she’d leave me if my hair fell out, so I have to keep an eye on my stress. That means keeping the workload light.”

Last updated on the May 1st 2026

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A Father Son Sands Picnic