Oh Simple Thing (Ruin)

For Sebolaren, those passing sevendays had been more than simply difficult; they had tested him in ways he had not expected. When he had assumed such a vacant expression within the safety of that cave so many days ago, he had not expected Delilah to take it quite so personally: Of course he should have known better, sharding woman. Any other emotion would have been done to hurt, or as a lie; so he could not wholly regret his choice. At the same time, he certainly regretted soiling their friendship. She had been strung out and worried, probably more-so than he had been, but at the same time her focused determination had driven him completely beyond the point of understanding. Honestly they should both consider themselves lucky that vacancy had been his choice: Agnith might have killed him herself otherwise. Still, it remained a constant sore spot in him even as he spent the days at chores, studies, and with friends. Introducing Daymar to G'dan, meeting Puff and her Edison; it all seemed lacking without Delilah's special touches. Women.

Then the letters had arrived. Two small sheets of parchment that had changed his entire game. Luckily for him, regardless of all the damage that had occurred, the beach visit had brought a distinct sense of peace, and even acceptance: He no longer doubted his own Impression. So he would have a place here, at the Weyr--indefinitely. Losing the support of his family had not been expected, or even anticipated. He had persevered with the help of Xiro'el, and, surprisingly, the comfort of Daymar--although that had opened up a whole new cave of tunnelsnakes. Then Daymar's sister had arrived.

It wasn't as if he hadn't tried to reach out to her! When G'dan was injured he had seen her; had done his best to help by sending the flits to her, but that earned him nothing but a single glance from Agnith. It was positively infuriating. As if his obvious turmoil meant nothing in the face of her exaggerated need to find reasons to hate him. As if he hadn't been entirely correct, and logical, and of sound mind the entire time during that storm. All she had to do was stay in the cave and sit pretty, but no, not Delilah. She needed to run herself right out with a stubbourn determination that would probably one day get her killed--and this was his fault. Obviously. He probably would have continued swearing her name up and down inside his head, but another voice intruded; a happier and lighter voice--one he hadn't heard in quite some time. Well, he didn't have much of a choice in this did he? Trade one sharding woman for the sharding woman's Pink dragon and things would probably be accomplished--Agnith wasn't as stubbourn as her Rider. Some consolation.

His trip down to the lake was uneventful; probably because he was so lost in thought considering how this entire thing would turn out. He had been on his way to the stables, so the lake was a simple side-trip. He saw the fast-growing Pink long before he drew up to her, and when he did finally arrive he stopped wordlessly. His lips pursed together with mild curiosity as he regarded Agnith; at least she was looking well--not that Delilah would leave her to founder...although that somehow wouldn't surprise him either. He scanned the area trying to find the blond; at least find her fuming at him, and coming up with nothing he returned those curious grey eyes to the Pink.

The moments seemed to stretch between himself and the Pink dragon; if you could have moments with dragons that were both not yours, and Pink..and Agnith, but stretch they seemed to do. She stood there in front of him with an expression that had him legitimately fearing for his life; because he had to admit she was rather large now, and he remembered what her claws had done to him moons ago: He certainly did not want to find out what they would do now. He had actually spent much of his time without Delilah being as careful as possible, because without her he had absolutely no one to patch him up should he get into a bad scrape. Well, there was Xiro'el, and he could always do it himself: That lacked a sort of protocol that could possibly prevent him from losing a limb. Not that he would ever admit it to the woman, damned if he would, she'd only fuss and worry--well if she would talk to him at all.

Suddenly, with absolutely no preamble, Agnith was there and twisting around him as if some sort of cuddly serpent rather than the dragon she actually was. Briefly he wondered if this is how females felt when flown--briefly. Then it was all business, or in Agnith language it was all: Try to keep up while she flows her thoughts into your mind as quickly as she can. At least she was able to stay still...for the most part. After a jovial frolic that left him quite in the dark about what was going on; aside from the obvious fact that she had missed him: She seemed to remember that there was a certain reason for speaking to him after all this time. She pushed her face close enough to his that on every inhale he could feel the warmth of air she had only just exhaled; it was rather peculiar: Not in the least because her Rider apparently wanted nothing to do with him.

He gave her his full attention, although as mentioned--one didn't have much of an option with Agnith. His attention wavered only once; when she touched him, and his hand lifted to cover that spot. When she was finished, and striking her heroic pose, there was an undeniably bright smile pulling at his lips, and a soft chuckle pushing through them. He had far too many questions for the Pink; most of them she wouldn't understand to answer, but at least he could respond partially. "I love you too, Agnith, and I care for Delilah very much. I certainly wish to speak with her; if she'll listen."

Agnith's determination in qualifying his love...er...care...for Delilah with a term that she didn't quite understand--at least in the two-legger sense, definitely had Sebolaren uneasy. Certainly he didn't want to smooth things over only to be caught in some form of a lie, but of course it wasn't really a lie was it. Was it? Agnith was so capable of confusing every situation it was nearly infuriating--exactly like her Rider. Really though, this rift between them couldn't persist, and if it was bothering Delilah badly enough that Agnith would seek him out--probably against her Rider's wishes--then he definitely wanted to find a solution for the problem, because he cared. And care was love, and of course he did love her, and of course there would be time to figure out other things later. Sharding women, nothing was simple--ever.

"Yes, Agnith, I love Delilah--though of course not as much as you do." He listened to her assurances with a smile and then followed her with all the stealth he possessed--which wasn't much, but he was fairly certain that the Pinkrider had learned to sleep deeply or not at all: There was no way he would make more noise than the princess of prancing herself. He couldn't help but feel a slight disquiet in terms of creeping up on the woman while she was sleeping...behind some rocks...alone, but at least he was being lead there by her dragon. He sighed softly when he caught sight of her: Beautiful as she was obnoxious, and he did wonder if maybe the time spent apart had seen some calming influence in her. He doubted it, but there was always a chance.

He waited for a moment, watching Agnith flop down next to her Rider, and ensuring she would not randomly come awake while he lowered himself beside her; because she'd probably join Q'sis in alerting the Weyr to his sexual hunger, as if he'd been standing above her attempting to pluck her while she slept. Ah, but there, safe and sound and not being screamed at--yet. He considered simply sitting there, and giving in fully to enjoying her, before she could open her mouth and ruin it all, but his honest want to speak to her won out. Probably more of a need than a want at this point; he'd have been driven mad by guilt most likely--if not for his life falling apart yet again. He studied her just a moment longer; capturing this moment should she chase him off when she awoke, and then he gently stroked one of her chill-flushed cheeks with a large warm hand. "Delilah,"

He had braced himself for screaming; thoroughly certain that it would come. Cries of foul play and treachery, or even soft groans of disgust: Bidding him to go and leave her as she was—happy without him. Yet those words did not come. She did claim his wrist as her own, and she seemed to wake up easily—at least to the point where he could be certain that she was awake enough to realize it was him. Still she held to his wrist. It didn’t seem defensive, it didn’t seem like she was holding him at bay out of fear, but it still perplexed him. How often had he run through this scenario in his head only to have her push him away. Though he had hoped for this; what was currently happening, it had been a dream so unbelievable that he hadn't considered it. Now he seemed to be living it--without the aid of preparation.

He pulled a smile to his face, and had assumed it would be hard, but he found that it came easily. Even with questions unanswered and their friendship still very much in the air; he could admit to himself that he was happy to be right here in this moment, and would be until she drove him off. His name from her lips earned her another brush of his fingers against her cheek and a brighter smile. “Aye, you’re awake; it’s me; though if I’ve intruded I can go.”

The words were truthful, he would not force himself upon her even in friendship, but the worry in his eyes gave away how much that honesty cost him; leaving was the last thing he wanted; asked or otherwise. Yet he said them, because he cared about her enough to give her that option, that choice—it was hers and always had been: Though perhaps they had gotten their wires crossed too deeply for either of them to realize it. He was here now, though. For as little as it might count.

His smile did not fade, it would be better said that it grew; but its growth was not in size, but in warmth. He had not expected those words. Of all the things she could have said to him, telling him to stay with her had not been on his list of possible sentences. It pleased him in a deeply satisfying way that spread warmth through his heart and began to fill a hole he wasn’t aware had been present. He so very much wanted to mend things between them; but how? He wasn’t even entirely sure why she had abandoned him—the reaction he had been hoping…expecting…to receive for his apathy was her simply taking the time to relax; to step back and evaluate the situation. Instead she had drawn away from him as surely as if he had slapped her. It had left him confused; somewhat angry, but mostly hurt. None too little of that anger was pointed at himself.

It had been his fault, of course. He had used against her something that he should never have. Even in his choice to not use a direct emotion he had still brought chaos into their friendship. If it had shown him anything; he had definitely learned that his abilities were best used to help; not to harm—save for any rare occasion where he might need to defend or protect. She had not been that occasion. Annoying? Overbearing? Slightly crazy? Yes, to all, but none of those were punishable—if they were there were times where he himself would be guilty of those crimes. He was overbearing, and just as stubbourn, and more controlling—which was only intensified by his self-centered belief that he was always correct.

He felt his heart skip ungainly when she reacted to his second touch, those eyes closed only to open with the radiance of a smile he had not seen in far too long. ”Delilah,” he started, and his teeth closed nervously along his lower lip in a habit he’d only recently adopted. He forced his eyes to remain on hers; fighting the compulsion to look away and hide the emotions that would well up within him as he spoke, because he wanted to speak the words; more than he wanted to avoid them. A soft sigh escaped his lips again as he gathered himself for whatever would happen. His hand slid up to her jaw, cupping her face gently as he leaned in closer—meeting her eyes with his own and; for all the anxiety it caused him—lowering his assumed walls so she could see every emotion that flowed within him.

“I am so very, very sorry for how I treated you that day on the beach. I thought if I closed myself off to you, you would be less afraid—or angry with me. I never expected it to drive you away.”

He watched her intently; and as he was completely exposed he could not hide the nervousness he experienced as he awaited her verdict. It was a risk he took, to open himself so completely, and it was not one that he tossed around casually; even Xiro’el had come second, and only when Sebolaren had decided that it was owed to the Trader—not before. He paid his debts. Attentive grey eyes followed her sapphire blue as they darted around him; perhaps seeking answers to emotions he couldn’t hide; perhaps she sought escape from the intensity of is stare: It could have been anything, and for that moment he worried that perhaps he would lose her again. Then her eyes returned to his and he knew the truth.

No fear flowed into him from that gaze, there was no hesitation in the meeting of their eyes, and she seemed to look into him. It was a daunting thing to do; he remembered all too well the fear, agony, and denial that had billowed through Xiro’el when he had torn the poorly maintained walls down around the man. The Trader had been unwilling to seek the truth in Sebolaren’s eyes, to see acceptance and love; Delilah did not hesitate past that first moment. She hooked on and then fell into him with enough voracity to devour anything she found there, and she came away pleased: Suddenly her warm flesh pressing tightly to his open palm as she relaxed into his closeness—having found within him the truth.

He listened to the explanation as it poured from her lips; his thumb drawing a gentle circle on her soft cheek as his eyes never wavered from her own. At that final statement he shook his head roughly then leaned forward, gently drawing her to him; planting upon her forehead a tender kiss. “If you were like Xiro’el I would not love you as I do, because one of him is certainly enough for me. I have always wanted you, ever since you accepted me by this lake; I simply wanted you to listen. It would have been easier if I had spoken instead of punishing you the way I did. It was not fair.”

He smiled softly and pulled her head to his shoulder where he could properly wrap her up into the hug he had wanted to give her for far longer than that storm past. “Hush my little Blurwing, no more apologies. All is forgiven. I took far too much from you that day, and gave very little back; it will not happen again.” His lips kissed the golden crown of her head and then his cheek settled there, enjoying her warmth close to his. “I have missed you, do you know that?” He had, more than he would have words to say; though if she doubted it he could simply pull her head up and dazzle her with the ridiculous amounts of emotion he was feeling. The woman in his arms was healer, and friend; the love he felt was chaste and pure, but lost no potency. How could you not love someone you let so close? Not all relationships needed cementing with lust.

For now, he was content. Just to hold her and relax, his thoughts lazily following his eyes to Agnith. She had been so wonderful. Persistent and attentive. ”You could not have Impressed a better dragon, darling.” It didn’t need saying, but his voice was filled with gratitude none-the-less. The Pink had done what he did not believe was possible—give him an opportunity to apologize to her Rider and rectify the wrongs. Everything had gone so very off course between them: Without her—surely they would have never spoken again.

Possibly ever. Certainly Thread would have been falling; perhaps one of them would have been injured. Far too many dark possibilities that he didn’t want to consider beyond those few quick tentative thoughts.

He warmed at her mutual embrace, pleased that she saw fit to grace him with her arms even through all of their trials and tribulations. All he wanted was normalcy; perhaps for things to be even better between them: They seemed off to a great start, he'd have been far too afraid to touch her before lest he lose himself an arm. At her shiver he pulled her closer to him and wrapped her blanket around her exposed parts with his free hand, bundling her against the chill.

"Aye, Southern bird loves to drink from flowers; as gorgeous as the sunrise--as many colours too." His smile for her was brilliant, even if she could not see it, and he chuckled. "As we're both likely to feel guilty on principle; being that we're both generally selfless and have missed one another dearly--if I may be so bold--then why don't WE feel guilty for another hour, and then we can simply enjoy ourselves?" He certainly liked the idea.

His head snapped to the Pink dragon as she suddenly went bounding past and dove into the cold lake; his mouth was still quite ajar when Delilah glanced at him and a soft peal of laughter sounded at her words. "Perhaps a little calmer for me, I've told you once I couldn't keep up--and it's true." He wuffled softly into her hair as if a runner and then pulled his head back. "I'm sure you've already heard, but I've been disowned by my father while simultaneously being named son of Ruatha by Daymar's father--the man who abandoned his own son; my return letter resulted in Daymar’s sister transferring here to Stand. It caused quite a stir. Though perhaps not much more than my Impression to a Blue firelizard did."

”Sigard,” the name was a soft breath from his lungs that did not mask residual pain from being disowned and thoroughly abandoned by his own father. In the very least he was no longer abandoned by Delilah. Which meant more to him than he could say in light of how much he had recently lost—and gained unexpectedly. His mind wandered briefly back to that piece of parchment; well-worn from re-reading: Luckily it was a slowly fading memory. Very slow due to his visual remembrance, but it had begun fading with vigor since Xiro’el had consigned the note to flames.

”Though I do love her, I would appreciate more of a foundation—a dragon I could mesh with who would perhaps help inspire others to duty, lead against Fall. So many grand schemes for the little Herderboy. I’ve taken up other studies. Reylia—Daymar’s sister; has even offered to teach me Holder manners, and dancing. Xiro’el will be teaching me the art of knife fighting,” a grin split his face; ”I know you are pleased to hear that! A Keroonian Herder transferred in; he is working me through wherhide usage and strap-making. Also, a Bakercraft Dragon Candidate who will teach me not to starve.”

Which all-in-all was best for Sebol; as he had never cooked a day in his life. ”Perhaps—now that you realize I need you in my life—we could continue the Healer studies. When you have time of course? There are still skillsets I’m seeking from our general Weyr populous; slowly but surely.”

”Of course she is, and she brought us back together did she not—there isn’t anything you won’t be able to do together,” which was exactly what he was seeking—in a different package; one that would hopefully be calmer. He gave Delilah a sidelong glance at her snort; as if he couldn’t dance like a proper gentleman, but his feigned hurt was quickly washed away by real mirth and none-too-little boyish impishness.

”Well, Delilah, the Weyr is full of people who have knives. Xiro’el has told me that Q’sis has threatened me with a knife fighting stance more than once—but of course I was far too uneducated to see it. I’m not going to wait around to be stabbed; I will learn techniques. Besides, what with Dalibor’s history, it can only be an asset as we move on into the future.” Eloquent and logical, and he did spare himself a moment of preening: He certainly hadn’t lost his touch, just as she hadn’t lost her motherly ways—though he had accepted that he wanted her no other way. Someone had to patch him back up and tell him to stop being a dimglow: Though not about this.

”There is some good coming out of we boys attempting to stab one another; I am teaching Xiro’el a very valuable lesson myself—one that is a secret so do not pester me for it, but know that we made an accord and it will be honored.” And for now he would leave out the fact that his graduation involved catching the Trader with a knife; because only then would the ex-Herder be fast enough to outlast and possibly survive. ”Besides; you’ll have plenty of studying to do if I continue to acquire lacerations as I have in the past—that has to count for something: I’m a living breathing cadaver!”