The sun was setting over the Weyrbowl in Amaata's new home. It was beautiful, and the bluerider was enjoying the fading light as Kuroth's relatively slight form was curled up nearby, dozing as he waited for it to be time for them to return to their Weyr.
The sky was an artist's dream, awash with color. The tan, curly-haired dragonrider gazed solemnly up at the sky, her hazel eyes focused on the changing hues of the sky as the sun sank closer and closer to the horizon. "Isn't it just so beautiful?" she asked, intending the words for Kuroth.
Very pretty, Kuroth observed sleepily. It is very nice here.