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Suggestions were going to be the death of him...

Unable to fly, unable to hobble very far even outside without some help, a particular bronze had found an empty part of the Bowl and stretched himself out in the sun in the most comfortable way possible. With all the bandages, his neck being one big wrap of them even, Bossuth couldn't really get comfortable. Wounds on his neck, wounds on his chest, some down his side; thread had wrapped itself around him and all that he could breathe easy with was the knowledge that somehow, someway, his rider hadn't been that badly wounded.

He was a failure through and through and despite R'iz's best attempts to bolster his mood, nothing was working.

That was the reason that he'd come to sit in the sunlight a little, away from his ledge. It was a bonus that the ledge was that low, he could easily get himself back up there. Not easily now, but at least it wasn't up as high as Yulaniath's ledge. He'd have never made that flight and would have just lived in the Bowl until he was healed up enough. A soft chuckle pulled from the young bronze's chest and instantly he flinched in physical pain and all but curled up tighter. He should have known better than to do something that would aggravate it, but it didn't take much to do that at all and really what was he supposed to do? Not even be able to laugh?

Hide dulling just a little bit in his depressed self-loathing, Bossuth's head sunk to the ground and his eyes closed.

Didn't matter....

Didn't.

A voice echoed in his head, a very cheerful one that plucked at a tiny string he'd hidden rather well from everyone but his rider. One gray eye opened slowly and peered at Zygmuth as she walked up to him with a wherry hanging dead in her mouth. Under normal circumstances he would have immediately perked up and played along, but the little bronze could only barely shift without pain and just to raise his head and regard her was tiring.

Dance? Surely there are others that deserve it more than a failure who fell out of the sky. Bossuth's head almost sunk back to the ground again but he was curious and still respectful since the little green appeared to be waiting for him. I don't deserve a dance.

Still... he wouldn't have turned one down. He'd never watched another dragon dance and Zygmuth always had so much energy, Bossuth honestly had been a bit envious of all that energy she had in the past.

Cocking his head slightly to one side at her words, Bossuth let them roll around in his mind a bit, ruminating on exactly what it meant to be deserving when Zygmuth so quickly denounced successful and skilled dragons as undeserving. One claw moved forward to rest upon the wherry's body as he watched her dance with wide eyes that, while still managing to stay quite gray in color, started to shift and dance almost along with her. Greens and blues, even a strain of purple, threaded through his eyes, sparked across the facets as her head ducked and popped up, a toothy smile on her face.

Tiny string twanging deep within his hearts, the small bronze remembered all the reasons why he'd let that form in the first place as a chuckle rumbled through him. Where his chest expanded with his rumbling laughter there was pain, but it was certainly worth it to watch his cousin's display that she was so excited about. If it were any other than her, even his closest sibling Yulaniath, Bossuth was certain he wouldn't be laughing, yet here he was.

We need to be stronger than Thread, I'm afraid that I'm not but you're displaying another type of strength all your own. If any could... the one green born from the luckiest of all eggs certainly would be the strongest. Shaff color or false bravado.

Another softer rumble followed on the heels of the last as Zygmuth threw herself onto the stone ground of the Bowl and smiled up at him, innocent joy in the expression that he could see across her face. I believe you just turned it upside down all on your own, though now this means to me you're frowning. Gently he reached down and booped his nose against her chin, a quirk pulling at the edge of his muzzle as if to tilt it a bit upwards, even if it didn't go there but briefly.

It was more sardonic however, full of self loathing and cynical towards only himself. No he wasn't strong, even if those around him continued to try and boost his self esteem with it, they didn't live in his head or see what he saw. They had none of them fallen from the sky unconscious with a broken strap that could have killed their riders. He was a failure. Honestly Zygmuth I don't know that I'll ever see it as you do. That's the way of life though, I suppose. What the world must have looked like through eyes that were skilled at finding the best in others and themselves. Bossuth could see the best in others, knew full well that there were dragons who were strong and that his little green cousin would be one of them as she graduated to fly among those that had been fighting for turns.

You are all very strong when you fly together, but only the strong will survive and only the strong deserve to be considered full dragons. The small bronze pulled his head back, wincing as his scars contracted painfully. Just having the ability to be ever positive and joyful is strength beyond what many have. You're likely the strongest of us all.

Slowly a light purple swirled into his eyes at her words and Bossuth inclined his head just a bit. You always smile constantly Zygmuth, I doubt you'd ever frown at anyone. He just couldn't see it, she was far too kind and sweet, which begged the question, why was she being that way to a dragon that didn't deserve it?

An image, a strong one, flooded into his mind. It was of himself, but definitely not the way he truly was. In fact he seemed just a bit too strong and proportioned in that image for it to be any bit true. If he could blush, Bossuth's whole entire head and neck would have, for he didn't feel anywhere even in the vicinity of looking that put together as Zygmuth's image of him.

Straps were sound but my skill was not. Maybe neither of ours was since we weren't in tune that day with one another. The bronze's head hung just a bit. At least they'd been able to save a sibling, that was what mattered the most to him and he could feel it in his Radish as well.

Despite his scars being sore, Bossuth tucked his wing around Zygmuth gently and pressed his nose to the top of her head. It might do to have some reminding, but one day we'll be able to fly strongly and save others on Pern just as you do. I'm sure of it. Both he and His wanted it after all, so they'd work harder towards it than anything as long as they knew they weren't total failures.

An edge crooked upwards at last and the faintest of smiles crossed Bossuth's muzzle, but he'd angled it so that his undeserving self didn't give away the emotion overmuch. While his eyes finally settled on a bright blue color, never one to fully hide anything from them, the bronze inclined his head to hers. It appears this was a day well spent then, for I would be a fool not to take everything you've done and smile for it. There were many dragons, many green dragons even, in the Weyr but none were as kind and giving as Zygmuth always was.

The mention of not remembering things had him pondering just a bit, at the possibility that he might forget his training in the moment and so would need to rely fully on his rider. It always felt more to him that they were a pair, each working to cover the other's weaknesses, but maybe he was the weakness. Still, he hadn't chosen wrong, so only good things could eventually come of it. Thread is very dangerous, it's fast fliers like you that keep us all safe. You save many more than you realize, even if it's just with a smile.

Gently he tucked one of his wings down against her and covered most of her from view before snaking his head down to press his nose against hers lightly for just a moment. May we remind each other. It was no question, his hearts were swelled up just being around Zygmuth, that was answer enough to his internal question.