Lan
Weyrlingmaster 
lanct[M:-1025]
Nomming ALL the kidpets!
Posts: 1,266 
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Post by Lan on Nov 30, 2012 15:40:49 GMT -5
Enyo had been sent off earlier that morning with a very important letter. The busy schedule of a Candidatemaster had caused the redhead owner of the green firelizard to occasionally forget about the existence of the letter, but it was always remembered as soon as menial or otherwise mentally dominating tasks gave way for free thought.
The HopeHolders class now in Quarantine and on to Lessons, the rest of the Weyr had gone back to the gloom of illness and plague. Gravity could not be heavier than the weight of the dead dragonriders and wherhandlers that hung on the hearts of those still remaining. Everyone was suffering.
Nimara sat at her desk (appropriated from R'len), lunch recently eaten, and she stared at its bare wooden top. The hidebound records had been shoved to the side, their contents already memorized. K'ver of Iron Detritath was dead. Maikoda of Orange Bayneth was dad. Camea of Black Cask was dead and the wher subsequently put down. The Weyrleaders' daughter lay on her sick bed. Several of her own candidates had fallen ill and continued to fall ill, despite the Quarantine. W'al of Purple Karath, a Weyrlingmaster, had also taken ill. Then, to top it all off, Nimara had not heard from her parents for two sevendays.
R'len had been there for every laborious moment. He had massaged her back and kept giving her little things to smile about with his cheerful attitude. For the past few days, though, even R'len's good humor and kind manner could not coax a smile on the redrider's face. In Nimara's mind, she had failed him. She had failed him just as she had failed her ailing candidates. Biting her lip, she attempted to remain strong and she felt the weight of guilt crush down upon her again. Waroth stirred, sensing her rider's distress, but Nimara muzzled the beast before she could do so much as stand. Not now.
The red grumbled, but closed her eyes and pressed her body firm against the cold stone when another burst of powerful mental energy hit her from her rider. I said not now.
The Candidatemaster hid her guilt from her dragon, as she had worked to achieve for the past couple of days. It had been a struggle punctuated with brief moments of a loss of control, after which she'd have to quickly reign in the over-reactive Waroth before the dragon could cause too much of a fuss. The scarlet queen wouldn't know what to do with the full scope of what her rider was feeling... or, at least that's what Nimara told herself as justification for hiding herself and her feelings away. Waroth's reactions were always violent and extreme. Nimara didn't want to know what would happen if the red was allowed to run wild in the depths of what she truly felt.
A burst of green caught her eye and turned her attentions to the fluttering form of Enyo above her desk. The green flit squawked irritably before depositing herself and the load tied to her leg upon the desk. Nimara rushed to remove the letter, written upon a small patch of leather that looked as if it had been cut from an old runner's shoe. The words written hastily and messily reached her eyes and fell dead immediately behind them. She read the note again and again, each time not really comprehending what was written before her. For what must have been half a candlemark she sat there, staring, until salty tears began to drip from over the corners of her lower eyelids.
Nimara wept. Sobs, uncontrollable, wracked her whole body in violent spasms. She felt like she couldn't breathe, gasping for air like a fish between shotgun-like cries. All the incredible emotions she had kept locked away poured forth like a flash flood down the connection with her dragon. It stirred the blood-colored red to her feet, wings outstretched, and Waroth gave a bugled challenge that dwindled into a mournful keen. Nimara was in no condition to silence her.
She heard Kaezeth land outside, returning R'len to his Weyr--the place Nimara had been staying for much of the duration of the plague's presence at Dalibor. She blinked up at the door when her weyrmate entered, but sobbed again more violently when she tried to speak. Collapsing in on herself, she curled into a ball, head buried in her knees and arms curled around her. In her fist she held the wrinkled message, which she thrust at R'len when she heard him approach.
It read, plainly,
"Dear Nimara,
I regret to inform you that your previous letters reached only an empty house. I found Niman and Mira today when I stopped by mid-trace. Your parents were always kind to us runners and we'll make sure they're treated with respect.
Sincerely, Daravan
--transcribed by Harper Tellener"
Outside, Waroth gave another angry roar. |
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Reky
Alphahandler 
rekyct[M:-999]
SO PRO
Posts: 1,554
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Post by Reky on Dec 1, 2012 0:23:06 GMT -5
R'len read the letter and immediately set it aside on the desk. There was no need for words. His heart was already saddened by the Plague that ravaged Dalibor, and Nimara was meant to be the light in all of it - a moment of happiness after the sweat and strain of his wing drills. To see her in such a way, and to read the letter, though, wound his ribs up tight like the cold of between.
He was still wearing all of his flight gear when he dropped to his knees and pulled Nimara into her arms. He let her stayed curled on her chair. He didn't want to peel her apart for fear of breaking her. He felt his jaw clenching and made it release - a steady, deliberate motion. The air that was drawn into his lungs was breathy and hissed past his teeth. He was not sure if there was anything he could do beyond hold her. Hold her and let her cry. He tucked his chin and nose into her red hair and gripped her back with his big, gentle hands.
He did not know the pain of losing a parent. Even as old as he felt he was growing, his parents still lived. He feared for them, with reports of cases of the Plague trickling in from Benden, but they were still alive. He could not fathom loss of such a magnitude. He wondered, sometimes, about losing them, or his sister, or Nimara or Kaezeth, but it was hard for him to truly grasp. The shock of it would be intangible until at last it happened. And it was happening there, in his arms, inside the heart that he loved the most.
He had wanted to kiss her and twirl her onto the bed when he had come home. He had planned it all out in his head. They were trying for a child and, despite many failed attempts so far, R'len still had hope. He had meant to ask how she was doing into her lips. He'd even been thinking of names -- Nilena, for a girl, or Marlen, for a boy. Instead, he found himself entirely helpless. He wanted to do something more, shard it, but what was there to do but wait? He would hold her for candlemarks on end if he had to.
Cautiously, as if he were handling fine china, he laid his bearded cheek against her head, his mouth dipped toward her ear. "I'm here," he whispered in vain, and he swore his voice had cracked. [/blockquote] |
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Lan
Weyrlingmaster
lanct[M:-1025]
Nomming ALL the kidpets!
Posts: 1,266
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Post by Lan on Dec 7, 2012 1:28:00 GMT -5
Nimara stayed paralyzed on the chair as R'len hugged her. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. All she could do was sit there and sob. It was a pathetic way of being, but she couldn't stop. It was just too much. After everything... after losing so much... And she was still losing. Nothing was ever gained. Her friends died, her candidates were close to dying, her family died and... there just wasn't any life. Anywhere. Her life felt barren and lost, a darkness growing from within her that tried to consume her life. Thread fell from the heavens and Plague came from below, but in-between ground and sky Nimara still could not produce a sign of life to stave the terrors away. Now her parents were gone. They were gone, never to see her or her Weyrmate or even their future children.
The thought made her weep more fervently, sending her hands desperately clinging to her arms and drawing white streaks in pink skin. R'len's presence was not the comfort it should have been. How could he love her? He was far too good, far too precious to have to deal with all the problems he had suffered due to their association. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. So, isolating herself, she could not allow herself to fall into his arms. She felt guilty enough with him here, dropping everything including his good mood to comfort her. The smell of draconic musk and the padding of his jacketed arms around her told her he had not even had taken time to make himself comfortable. He must be miserable and she blinked at him to see only a blurred vision distorted by the refraction of light through her tears.
A heartbeast passed and the weeping stopped, but then it started up again. It was quieter this time, controlled and contained within herself with only the irregularity of her breath and the wetness of her eyes as any proof that she was still truly crying. Outside and in her mind she could hear the shrill cries of Waroth as the red did her best to rouse the whole Weyr to arms. Nimara couldn't silence her. There was no control left for the beastly dragon. There was no will left. For a moment the red's ululations ceased, but precious breaths later the scarlet dragoness had found her way to Kaezeth's ledge. She shoved her way past the iron, scrambling to the door that led to R'len's bedroom, and tried to claw her way in through the opening. Demonic growls snarled and gurgled erratically as red claws attempted to rip a larger hole from the door that would allow her to fit through and hoard her rider in her protective embrace. It rattled the walls, threatening to topple over nearby furniture and sending the pile of hidebound records sliding across the desk, some of them making their way to the floor. Nimara fell from the chair and curled into R'len's arms on the floor. Her hands clung to his jacket tensely as she buried her face into his shoulder.
Enyo screeched, fluttering at the threshold as she attempted in her bravery to drive the red away. There would be no such thing happening, though. Waroth could not be deterred by such a small beast, although the rocky barrier had held up far better to her frustrations. She stepped back and howled, her draconic volume echoing around the stone walls with an intensity that could have shattered eardrums if it had been kept up. But she fell into relative silence again quickly, positioning one of her great eyes in the hole that was left from her scrabbling to glare a bloody red at where R'len and Nimara remained. MINE. The sentiment echoed like a tidal wave through the very being of the larger creatures nearby, from Nimara to R'len to Kaezeth. Enyo fell back, overwhelmed, and crouched on the messy desktop prepared for a fight.
Waroth... It was a weak thought, barely discernible over the pain that flowed between the redpair's connection. The red whined plaintively, trying to fit her snout through the door but unable to do so. She exhaled sharply, searching next with her forked tongue for the physical connection she craved with HER Nimara. But Nimara did not go to her. Waroth withdrew her head again, stamping out her frustration and causing what felt like an earthquake. It wasn't fair! HER Nimara was in pain! She should be allowed to go to her! Her violent, aberrant cries increasing in volume and urgency, she backed up to the opposite wall of Kaezeth's room as if to get a running start to bash her way through.
|| ooc : Uhhhh. Yeah. Waroth is being more violent than I was expecting... BUT IT WILL ALL END UP OKAY, I SWEAR. Or... at least more okay than a red trying to kill people? >> I'M SORRY.
|| edit : This was written in a sleep-deprived stupor and I will fix it as soon as I can. <3 Sorry for the inconvenience.
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