Sleeping Dragon governed as it were by chance

@Thyri

He’s given a little time with the puppies again as Gyda stretches her legs and he’s sitting eagerly on the outside. They’re getting older and bigger and he can see a difference every day. Their coordination improved from the clumsy and floppy legs that barely held them up to being able to make it several feet without falling over. Gavriel lowers to his belly and inches forward, chuffing quietly for their attention. A little play in the sun might rouse them for a while and he eagerly awaits to see which much first come to him.

The summoning noise from the outside of the den had struck her ears and caused her head to spring upward with curiosity brimming in her puppy-blue eyes. A wildly flagging tail met the call of her father and she was swift to push herself to her feet and bound outside. Prancing legs showed a playful figure and the puppy peered at the large warrior with a childish smile on her tiny muzzle. His soft brown eyes were a welcome sight to the boisterous girl. Thyri reared back on her hind legs and aimed to push against him with her comically large paws. Her nose was extended to press against his body and her tail was flagging so quickly behind her that it was throwing the young dragon off balance. A soft yip accompanied her actions, but her joy could not be hidden. “Pa!” she cooed at him with a twinkle in her baby blue eyes.

Thyri is the first to pick up on his attention seeking and his tail wags, helping the girl out of the den so that she can bask in the sunlight too. However, she’s quick on her feet as she exclaims a single syllable before rubbing herself on him. For a long time, he didn’t know what sort of influence he would have on his children. If Gyda had chosen none, he’d respect it, and they’d be puppies of the pack and the same responsibility as everyone else, but with the decision of his own weighing heavily over him. He’d put more attention to them that he expected, spending every night nearby to the den (unless it’s raining, in which case Gyda is nice enough to offer him shelter for the night) and making sure they’re safe. 

Now, Thyri calling him pa makes his heart skip a beat.

“Can you say noni?” he says softly into her fur, licking soft kisses across her tiny form. He noses against her which, with her wiggling and uncoordinated mess, might send her tumbling to the ground.

The sun felt good on her small figure, and she stretched her limbs as well as she could before she had set out to make sure Gavriel knew she was there. He was a daunting figure and the thick muscles that she could feel beneath his pelt were exactly what she aspired to be herself. After she had taken a moment to parade around him with various touches and yips, he drew her toward him and breathed his hot breath into her thin pelt. Thyri wiggled with delight at the feeling of his voice on her, and she turned her head around so that she could face him with wide blue eyes. He had prompted her to speak a word in his language, and though she was familiar with some of the language that was shared between her father and the Heda, she was still young and her vocabulary was limited.
 
“No?” she responded with a curious tilt of her head. It sounded close enough – surely she’d gotten it right. The bright blue of her gaze remained locked with his face, and she wondered why her mother and father spoke two different tongues. The world was confusing, and she was certain that it would only become more so as she aged.

She pipes a sound that Gavriel isn't sure how to interpret at first. He watches her own expression and his ears cup forward with a slight tilt of his head. Regardless off the word she did speak, he's able to chuckle a low rumble and loser his nose to boop her in the cheek. "Noni," he emphasizes then with a few thumps of his tail in hopes she'll try again. Watching them grow and learn has been something he's surprised himself about. It's different with his younger siblings, giving a hand when he could, but while he had responsibility over them, it's tenfold when it comes to his own seen sown.