Sea Change (Ruin)

Another day of work, another day to clean and wash away. Another day to add for seven, another day to bring another turn. He didn’t mind the work. Had he ever? At least it kept him busy, perhaps it even kept him entertained. Candidates were starting to trickle in and—true he would probably have a room-mate now—but in the interim everything was different. Different or perhaps overwhelmingly similar. He had been fortunate enough to encounter Xirofel—Xiro’el he reminded himself—so he knew at least one of his former fellow Candidates-now-Weyrlings still enjoyed his company. However, Xiro’el wasn’t the Weyrling Sebolaren was most concerned about. It was actually Delilah, now Pinkrider, who kept him awake at night as he considered when the axe would truly fall. Would she have told the Weyrwoman about Dalibor’s tainted Candidate after the hatching? Or would post-Impression leave her speechless until the feast or later. It was Summer now, and frankly he had expected bad news sooner. The anticipation was driving him somewhat mad.

So yes, today was a day like every other day; work bled into cleaning, bled into eating, bled into contemplating if tomorrow would be his last day. Twoday, threeday, fourday to sevenday. Not this day, nor that day. He could have sought her out, but he told himself that would be conspicuous. The Candidate seeking out the Weyrling he had interacted with only once by starlight. Yeah, that wouldn’t garner any more attention than was necessary; and what if she decided to welcome him by condemning him—what if she kept his secret only as long as he stayed away. Dangerous. Betrayer. What if her dragon would rise against him to protect her if he sought her out? No. It was safer to go through each day, and wonder, than confront the many possibilities that sprouted from seeking Delilah in the Weyrling rooms.

Another day found him here, crossing the bridge on a return journey to the Candidate barracks—blasted barracks. He’d been lucky previously: Arriving so late with a hatching so full of Candidates that he’d been allowed to room in the stables. An empty storeroom turned sanctuary. Now he would find a fellow Candidate to room with, explain that he hadn’t been Impressed, and go about the whole process of not revealing this secret of his so as to not create another horrified member of the Weyr on whom Sebol depended. For survival—it felt. It was hard on his heart, to hold such a secret, to feel this urge to pull away from Weyrfolk. He was a social person by nature, kind and helpful—now he found himself feeling the urge to keep away and draw back. He didn’t have it, to give in to such a weak emotion…negative emotion…and at the same time he wasn’t ready to test his inclusion to Weyr life.

Perhaps they only needed bodies for the last hatching, perhaps Searchdragon choice wasn’t as honored as Impression would have been, perhaps—

The hurtling dragon at the edge of his vision drew his attention almost immediately: You don’t grow up around large stupid beasts without the common sense of observation, and none of those creatures were the colour of tropical flowers—or innards he supposed morbidly. Morbid only because he was absolutely certain that he had been correct in all of his assumptions. There had been plenty of Pink dragons at Callistaths hatching—and a Weyrling dragon this much be, due to the size, unless they transferred in dragons as young as this. However, there was only one Pink dragon Sebolaren could assume would have a reason to make a mad dash directly for him, even Xiro’el’s Cyan had mostly ignored him until he’d interacted with her. This had to be Delilah’s Pink.

Sebol steeled himself for the inevitable weight that would crush into his abdomen—perhaps disemboweling him—his eyes following the Pink with sharp interest: He had never run from stupid beasts, and he certainly wouldn’t make the mistake to run from one of intelligence. Creatures smelled fear and dragons read minds, so he did that which he could think of to do—project his innocence: I’m not here to hurt your Delilah. He wasn’t even sure if dragons could read the minds of those who didn’t ride them, but it was a litany in his head as the youngster surged toward him all claws and wingsails. He knew she was going to kill him.

Sebolaren felt the impact of her body like a shockwave through his, and he was thanking all the stars above that he had managed to stay standing because now the dragon was…growling at him? He wanted to believe that the noise was one of pleasure, perhaps like the felines and lapcats, but coming from her body—which had only just finished a headlong plunge by careening into him—the sound definitely seemed threatening. So he decided to simply stand where he was, firm as always, and wait for Delilah—who was gaining ground quickly. Of course it would only get worse when she arrived, see that her dragon had failed in her mission?

Perhaps he’d have a chance to make good his escape but—

You are him! I knew it! Delilah showed me you in my head! She was sad for you, but, uh, I made her feel better about that, and now you're here! And we can all be friends! Will you show me your pretty pictures? Oh, I LIKE you and you are a very tall person!

That was about the last straw Sebol could take standing, and he promptly sat—knees giving out with merciful grace—staring at the Pink dragon who was still uncomfortably close. Those whirling eyes filled with…excitement? Happiness? She knows me? For the first time in eighteen turns a dragon had chosen to speak to him, and of all the dragons it could have been it was probably the most excited and confusing dragon of the lot. Friends? Pictures? He wasn’t even attempting to communicate with her, simply sifting through her torrent of words in an attempt to understand.

And then Delilah was there, asking him even more confusing questions and it was all he could do to squint up at her in the bright daylight and respond. ”Hurt? I thought…I thought.” I stuttered for a moment warring with what to say—obviously he had been mistaken, would she be hurt that he had assumed such bitter things about her? Did he really want more lies and secrets on top of those that already burdened him. He drew in a sharp breath and gave his head a firm shake to clear it and then met her gaze again. ”I thought you’d made your mind up about me, as I did not Impress. That maybe your dragon was coming to protect her rider.”

He was speechless; saying otherwise would have been lying. They were both here, the women he’d been focusing on and worrying about; and both of them seemed completely happy—in fact one of them seemed quite thrilled—to be near him. Not that it was him specifically, he found himself backtracking from the self-serving thoughts, but they didn’t hate him. Nor did they seem afraid of him. Sebolaren was having a difficult time forming words into cohesive sentences—and that was a rare enough event that simply feeling so flabbergasted caused him to be even more off-kilter.

He just stared at the Pink with a bewildered expression: She probably would have earned it regardless of the circumstances due to her completely open and attentive manner—attentive to those who weren’t her rider—but now Sebol was guiltily wondering how he could have assumed this creature capable of any sort of malice towards him simply for existing. If Delilah hadn’t then neither would this small perfect creature. His confusion was quickly being replaced with a boyish chagrin as if he’d been caught stealing pies from the kitchen and was short of seven turns old.

He only listened and watched dumbly as the two interacted and then she was in his head again, inside where he didn’t have words to explain how he processed it. And she wasn’t even his dragon. Sebolaren turned eyes of wonder on Delilah as the Pink did her best to find leverage under his arm: He used this opportunity to run his large fingers along her seemingly delicate headnobs and neckridges. She felt like well-tanned leather; silky soft with a faint texture to her hide—though some areas were feeling coarse and dry. Probably from growing.

“Hearing her for the first time must have been…exquisite; and yes, darling dragon, I am quite all right. You simply startled me!” He eased up, trying to keep most of his weight to himself; though wanting the Pink to feel she had succeeded in hoisting him up. "You are quite good at helping!" Sebol's attention returned to Delilah and he nodded without a lack of shame, "I let my worries run away with my mind, and for that I am sorry. I reasoned my way to possibilities without considering the person involved". He smiled down at the Pink again, "and, I believe you are right!"

Sebolaren nodded with a smile, of course he couldn’t truly understand what Impression was, but he knew from the glimpses of the faces on the sands and from simply hearing his mind filled with a voice—that it must be amazing. He leaned back into the Pink when she pressed against him and then watched her scamper happily back to the one she belonged with: He couldn’t have been happier for the pair if he had tried. “I’m so glad you found your dragon on the sands, Delilah.”

He smiled brightly and waved off her apology. “Family comes first; this could have been avoided if I’d tried to find you. I’m glad your father was there to support you.” Unlike his was the unspoken shadow to that statement. Neither his father nor his mother had even come to watch him Stand, though could he really find unhappiness in that now that he was unimpressed. Yes…of course he could. Perhaps it would have been difficult after—if they’d come only to watch him leave the sands alone—but he would have appreciated their support.

His smile flickered with a hidden sorrow that flared within him, and though it did not diminish his joy for the Pink and her future rider, it did wear away at his hope and aspirations for his time within the Weyr. How good it would be to ride to Ruatha and meet his father—introduce his father to the dragon who had bonded with him. Perhaps that would be a dream for the future…one step at a time. One day to the next. Agnith again pulled his thoughts away from dreary contemplation with a cheerfully persuasive mindvoice.

“Ah. Pictures,” and he smiled brilliantly to wash away any doubt that he would be foolish enough to be surprised—or hurt—that Delilah had shared their secret with her dragon. “I would love to show you both my pictures, little one, but as I’m sure you know…” and he leaned down conspiratorially glancing from side to side as if he were including the Pink in a wondrous secret—which in a way he was—his voice dropping to a soft whisper. “Only you and your Delilah know about my pictures, and it is so open here, I wouldn’t want anyone else to see!”

Sebolaren smiled warmly at the future Pinkrider and followed his open expression with a soft exhale. “I certainly hope so, plenty of time I suppose.” That was true as well, already the Candidates were arriving for the next hatching and the seasons were still turning. There would be more hatchings for him in the future…perhaps even the hatching that held his own dragon. ”Fort is quite far, mine would have to come from Ruatha. Perhaps they will next time.”

He was finding that he quite enjoyed the company of both females, especially the Pink—he appreciated anyone who would do the talking for him, and dragons made this experience simply thrilling. He might go days without actually speaking once he Impressed—unless he had to speak to someone who wasn’t a rider themselves.

”Secret place? I wonder what she has in mind…she does seem quite determined!” He turned his head to glance down at the woman he walked beside as they followed the clawsteps of her Pink dragon, and gave a soft chuckle at the smear she caused along her cheek. ”I hope you won’t find me too forward, but you have a—“ he shrugged gently and simply cupped her jaw lightly in his large hand using a calloused thumb to remove the smudge gently. “It isn’t anything that requires thanks, I like Agnith very much, she does all of my speaking for me—and other things as well. I also don’t mind sharing ‘pictures’ with her…or with you.” Sebol gave her another soft smile and then fell in beside her to follow the energetic Pink.

Aye indeed, no great distance there was on Pern when dragons flew. Still—he simply nodded his assent to her when she spoke the words. No need to delve into hurts passed. Perhaps if he had Impressed things would be different between him and his kin…perhaps not. There was a future hatching to look forward to, and then maybe things would have changed—or not—but hopefully his status as a Candidate would have. Agnith, of course, returned a bright smile to his face—watching her frolic away and hearing from Delilah things about her that were not perhaps easily guessed.

“Everything’s new to a youngling, the fillies and colts back home would startle at any creature to move—but then persist in heckling said creature until it either escaped, died, or bit them!” his head shook wordlessly as he was filled with quiet mirth, seeing that playfulness in this Pink. “Hope she hasn’t been causing you too much trouble, she’s in one piece still so you must be a fine guardian. At least until she gains her size and can guard you.” Sebol gave her a good-natured wink.

He sobered quietly as she spoke and then nodded, giving her a wan smile, though he was trying to resume his former heartiness by watching Agnith—still charging ahead like a runner. “I’m glad to hear that, and I won’t lie. I’ve had my stupid doubts and I know they were wrong, but you can’t blame me for wondering if she’ll” and he thrust his chin out toward the retreating pink haunches “introduce me as the tallman with pictures every time she encounters another person. I’m glad to make her happy though, repayment for the joy she brings everyone else.”

He gave the woman a broad grin and followed it with ”heckler indeed! However, I found it impossible to hate her, even when I was sure she was going to kill me—so perhaps all is safer than it feels.” Not that Weyrfolk would ever hurt one of their own intentionally, but it begged the question if the dragonet was going to try introducing herself to people of ill repute…large felines…passing ships—which reminded him of… “Shipfish!” and then he smiled somewhat sheepishly after realizing they’d been walking while he had a one-way conversation in his head. “You should introduce her to Shipfish. Xiro’el—a fellow weyrling of yours though you probably know that—Xiro’el and I have been trying to find Shipfish as well. Greenrider Tasakhori’s dragon adores them.”

Of course he and Xiro’el hadn’t actually found any for themselves yet…but all things in time. And they were men of action—crazy stupid action, but action! “And I understand completely. I like to get a handle on situations through quiet observance—unless of course the situations require immediate action, however the point I wanted to make was; it seems Agnith chose true. You both play off of each other so well—and she’ll open you to a world you were only aware of through avoiding it.”

His eyes played across the crevasse the Pink had found as they drew closer—and he had to count her words true when paired with the dragon’s actions. She obviously understood a secret when she was told one. “Tallman indeed, I hope I fit in there!”

“Thank you, Delilah. I try to be nice, but I mean it when I say that I’m sure Agnith will have no trouble winning anyone she meets to her—and your side.” He chuckled under his breath at the thought of the Pink hurting anyone. Yet he was well and truly swept up with excitement as Delilah showed interest in Shipfish. Of course he and Xiro’el hadn’t actually found any…yet.

“Actually no…I’m sorry. We haven’t yet. But Xiro’el often takes his Cyan out to explore. We would always welcome you along with us. To be completely honest,” and he scanned the area quickly before continuing. “His Tigreath became a bit excited and…exposed a problem that had to be dealt with. Of course he was completely fine!” he assured her with a wave, hoping to stave off any worry she might feel toward him, if she would. However, shipfish became our least concern. Still, you are welcome to join us. I know they exist here. I k now we could find them: Especially with Tigreath and Agnith. I’ve heard they love dragons.”

”She will,” he assured the Pinkrider. How could he be so certain, and would she accept the words of someone who went unimpressed? Well at this point he’d had enough interaction with the Weyrling class that he felt reasonably entitled to make educated guesses on dragons and their choice—how he would apply that to himself…well…that was for the future.

Sebolaren laughed as the Pink urged them on into the tiny space; and suddenly he felt somewhat awkward about being pressed so close to Delilah in what could be a very compromising situation if they were discovered. Of course then the only way to protect her—and him—would be to explain…explain and show. This made him anxious, but he tried to relax; he also didn’t bother trying to hide the fact. “It only just occurred to me that this could be a very compromising position if discovered.”

“Searchdragon,” he mused with a bright smile for Delilah, “not sure sure about that one, but perhaps she could stand in the bowl and greet the Candidates as they arrive!” He shook his head and laughed at his own thought, wondering for a spell what it would have been like to dismount the first dragon he’d ever ridden only to be bowled over by the overbearing love and friendship offered by Agnith. It definitely would have made his first day more—impressionable.

The grin her question elicited was brighter yet than the smile he had earlier, and somewhat mischievous. “The same problem you encountered during a nighttime swim m’dear.” Then he was too busy trying not to accidently brush against her, or knock himself silly on the ceiling of the little notch-in-the wall dear Agnith had found—and now he was expected to strip in the confined space as well. It was so amusing to him; that he had expected this to be some simple procedure, and now it was turning out to be a sort of awkward mess—that he had to laugh. Rare laughter. Grin—yes, because you could grin even when you were unhappy; but genuine laughter?

It pealed from him as both Delilah spoke and Agnith demanded: Though a demand from Agnith was simply her excitement causing her to forget polite conversation; not an actual order. “Indeed, or perhaps they’ll think we’re training her—for later.” he snorted another chuckle out in response to the mental image that had brought him—and then he did as he was told; dragging the tunic from his body and doing his best to angle the offending arm and shoulder away from Delilah: Which was actually easier said than done considering the confined space, but at least it was pointed toward the entrance—and her curious dragon.

Sebolaren opened his mouth to respond to Delilah’s comment—and the Pink’s response that was so certain even though she had no idea what she was agreeing to—but everything seemed to fall apart at exactly the wrong moment. He had been about to kneel so the dragon could see more clearly, but apparently Agnith had her own ideas about how quickly, and how close, she could get to his pictures. The dim lighting all at once winked out of existence as she lodged herself in the entranceway with a dull thud and the tongue that had been on his arm retreated with what was probably shocked surprise.

Delilah’s reaction told him all he needed to know and he guided her along his body and to her dragon without a thought, better she run along his flesh than have her head run along the wall. He put his own hand up and over until he was certain there wasn’t anywhere that he would strike himself unconscious and then moved forward, straddling the woman and her dragon. “Agnith, I’m going to touch you.” he said calmly to warn them both, and then began sliding his large warm hands along the Pink’s body.

She was well and truly stuck, much to his chagrin, but he couldn’t feel the tell-tale sign of ichor. Her shoulders were gripping at the stone by the widest part, which was also the topmost part; which might be lucky for them. He continued feeling along that shoulder, sliding his back along the biting stone cavern without thought for the gouges and lacerations it left behind. He balanced himself by stretching his leg out behind the Pinkrider and against the other wall as his hands continued their walk. There. Her forelegs were pushing her up tightly—perhaps…

“Delilah, if you can get her to stretch out her forelegs, she may be able to wiggle free. It should lower her and roll the joint out of where it’s snug.”

And she was free. Like a cork escaping a bottle of Benden wine she figured out her limbs and broke free her prison. He stepped forward automatically; unaware of the blood that ran freely from his own back, and only wanting to check the Pink for wounds—no matter how insignificant. He came up short as his body was bathed in warm sunlight—and then he retreated just as quickly; hissing under his breath. Coward. He snatched his tunic up angrily; but decided against throwing it on and storming back outside. Approaching the Pink angrily—even if it wasn’t toward her—wasn’t going to do anyone here a lick of good.

Besides; weren’t there Dragonhealers to look at her: Real dragonmen. He should have known better than to consort too freely with the Weyrlings. Wasn’t he a danger to them simply because he wasn’t learned in the ways of their dragons? He pressed his forehead into the cool stone wall before speaking; hopefully to Delilah; but she not being a coward or a fool had probably gone to her dragon. “I’m sorry. I should have known better; suggested something else. Anything else.”

He sighed softly and pushed away from the wall. Was done and over with, no use brooding; she was free and safe. “Is she okay—are you?”

Having gotten no answer he simply waited, assuming that if the Pink was quite injured they would go off to fix that; so he was mostly oblivious to what was going on outside the crack in the wall. That is until the Pink assaulted his mind to tell him that someone was dying. Of course no one could be actually dying but—he was dying as well? Then she was gone as if a fire had been lit under her tail shouting about a bucket.

What in the shards was a bucket going to do. He threw his tunic on and then winced. Ah. Dying. Which meant Delilah was hurt; though it couldn’t possibly be bad—unless she’d gotten her arm stuck when Agnith pulled free. He walked out into the light and over to the Pinkrider where she lay, a smile on his face.

“So I hear we’re both dying? Something about a bucket as well; so I suppose we’re well and truly saved—as long as she remembers to come back, and doesn’t meet anyone new.” He held his hand extended to her; to help her rise from the dusty ground, that smile still gracing his features.