Thumb-Sucking Brat (Turk)

[Kiran]

The hatching had changed Quellyn. For the last few weeks he had wandered about with a lost look on his face, unable to really look at or face anyone else. He had been quiet during chores (not an unusual state for the boy at any time in his history), but he had been focused, doing his tasks without hesitation or wandering off or forgetting what needed to be done in the middle of doing it. His life became routine. Get up, eat, lessons, chores, eat, bed. No deviations, and in between he holed himself up in his room. Not even Misty had been able to bring him out of it, and so lately she had taken to wandering off on her own to being back stories to him.

He couldn't even bring himself to care about those.

It hadn't helped that his aunt Nettle didn't seem to be doing well. She had been complaining of tiredness and aches and pains, and Quellyn was worried for her. He went to visit once in a while, but though she asked for him to tell her a story to perk her up and brighten her day, the boy simply couldn't manage it. Or if he did, they didn't have happy endings. Nettle simply held him while he told those ones, the ones full of pain and death and ended up with everyone dead.

He had been there when his mother died, seen others get injured by Thread, injuries that later killed them, but it had never touched him so closely. It had never been a Wher's claw against his throat. Even now, thinking about it, the memory made Quellyn want to shiver and hide away. A hand reached up to his throat and rubbed it, recalling the feel of the sharp prick against his skin.

He hadn't had the courage to talk to Jasmine. Quellyn didn't even know if she noticed the change in her youngest candidate. That was okay. For once he didn't have the words to talk about something.

Pushing and prodding the food on his tray, the boy couldn't bring himself to eat a bite of it. Him mind was too consumed by the gloom that had overtaken him once more. A candidate had died, right there on the Sands. He had nearly died. And now he was scared. Really truly scared.

Quellyn didn't know if he wanted to be a candidate anymore.

The worries and fears that had wormed themselves into his sould told him to withdraw, to talk to the Harper lady once more and simply say that he wasn't cut out for it. Sure, he had the nerve to approach the rider and ask to be Searched, but... But that obviously didn't make him a worthy candidate. Not when facing the cold of Between he had pissed himself and cried tears that made sand stick to his face. The minor burns from the heat of the sands had lasted for two weeks after, reminding him of his humiliation.

Giving up on eating, he just sat and stared at his plate. Eventually it would be time to get up and go to lessons and then he could just pretend that he cared. Pretend that he was okay. He just didn't know if he would be again.

[turkoizdog]

Salina was one of few who hadn't been in the stands during the famed double hatching. The blood and maulings that occasionally accompanied hatchings was, she thought, too much for her poor old heart to handle, and the last thing Dalibor needed was an old lady having a heart attack in the stands. She had heard that the young boy Quellyn had become a candidate, something that made her as proud as she expected his family was, and though she knew he hadn't impressed -- she was sure he'd tell her by now if he had -- he wasn't sure how he was taking it.

Many candidates, and even a few weyrbrats who had been in the stands that day, experienced shock and anxiety from the hatching. Salina had even noticed a few of the young children she taught, previously so hopeful to be searched, turning their interests to craft instead, afraid to meet such a fate as the girl who had been killed, or the boy whose hand had been mutilated beyond repair.

Over the past few weeks, Salina had hoped to run into the boy, but her age made her less mobile, and thus being unable to climb too high or go too far beyond the weyr walls, she didn't really see him. But today, seeing him sitting in the dining hall looking dejected, all her thoughts came rushing back. He didn't look like the Quellyn she had remembered. The hatching had changed him, like it had changed so many.

Shuffling up to his table, she cleared her throat, then spoke. "Is everything alright, dear?" Her hope was that he was just having a bad day, but she could tell by his aura that it was far beyond that. He needed some warmth, and perhaps a bit of fixing up, emotionally.

[Kiran]

Quellyn glanced up at the clearing of a throat. Seeing who it was, his own throat tightened in response. Salina. The former goldrider. The Harper. The one he wanted to be so like. Her question made his eyes well up with tears. But he couldn't cry, not here, not in front of everybody. He wasn't a weyrbrat anymore. He was a candidate.

That thought finally broke him. Quellyn shot from his seat to wrap his arms around her, muffling his soft sobs in the folds of her robe. No, everything wasn't alright. It was terrible and aweful and miserable and he just.... He just.... He pulled away long enough to look her in the face. "I don't wanna be a candidate. I just wanna be a Harper. The wh-wh-wher... I-I-it..." His voice broke over the words, unable to fully express his feelings. Burying his head again and taking another few breaths, Quellyn gave it another shot. "One of them killed a girl. There was so much blood, and the other! it pushed me into the sand and out its claw to my throat! It said if I moved, it w-w-would kill me, and I got burned from the sand, and.... And...."

And he had seen too much. His grey pillie stayed at his feet, trying to comfort him as he burst into tears once more. Kzzzz! Kzzzz! Kzz! The gentle motion of her antennae on his legs was meant to comfort the boy, but it wasn't working too well. Quellyn's pain went too deep. But she stayed there anyway, loyal to the end. After all, he was her story partner. Who else could tell such fantastical tales? She paused for a moment to move her antennae at Salina in a small greeting, hoping the woman could help her Quellyn. Kzzzzzzz....

"Everything else is going wrong, too, Salina! Aunt Nettle, she's dying and I can't even tell her stories like I did mom. The only one I managed was really sad and everyone died and I just can't... I can't... I can't make her feel better! I can't comfort her! I did it with mom, I saw her die, but I just can't do it for Nettle and she's been so good to me and I love her so much!" The east of what was wrong went tumbling out. Death all around him. He couldn't escape it.

And it was terrifying.

Why would he want to be a candidate when he would only be close and see more of it? When his own throat might be ripped out? He let out another sob and clung to the older woman, just wanting to forget.

[turkoizdog]

When the poor boy rocketed over to her, Salina was surprised she was able to hold her balance. It was sudden, though perhaps not unexpected. Placing her tray on the table, she wrapped her arms around him comfortingly, saying nothing.

Finally, he spoke, blubbering though he did, he was clear enough so that she knew it was indeed the hatching that had scared him. "Shhh... shh dear boy, you have seen quite a lot. More, perhaps, than a boy your age should." She had heard of bloody hatchings and hatching deaths back when she was young, but luckily she had managed to escape anything too traumatizing, at least, she did until her eye was gouged by a firelizard.

She was smiling down at the pillie appreciatively when Quellyn began to speak again, this time of his Aunt. Yes, she had heard him speak of her before, but when he mentioned she was dying, her heart sank. It was a difficult part of getting old, to hear of others dying and wonder why you, of all people, live on, but Salina was more or less used to it by now.

"Tell me, what stories did you tell your mother?" she asked him, hoping that would help him calm down a bit. "Maybe things are sad now, but there was a time when things were happy, and there always will be a time when things are happy again." she told him. "And besides, everyone loves hearing old favorites, and I'm sure your aunt has a few favorites among the stories you've told her. Remember when the new copper hatched, a turn or two ago? Or even when you first bonded with your lovely pillie here?" She gestured down at Misty.

As he clung to her robes, she stroked his hair lightly. "I know it feels like a lot right now, but this is how we are tested, and Quellyn, I know you are strong enough to get through this." It was funny, most of the young children in Pern saw Salina as quite strange, even crazy, but Quellyn and the other few who had bothered to become close to her could sometimes see how sane she could really be.

[Kiran]

He couldn't help but give a whimper as she acknowledged the horror he had seen. He hadn't known. He hadn't known. But it was the first time someone - anyone - had acknowledged that what he had seen was terrible, especially for his age. A few tears escaped Quellyn, soaking into Salina's robes. But the material also did the trick of wiping his face and reminding him that he was a Candidate, he didn't have to cry. He was too old to cry, even if he had seen something so terrible.

"I don't remember the stories I told mother." It was a shameful admission for Quellyn. "I told them, and when she died I forgot them 'cause I said I wouldn't ever want to tell them again. If I did it would be because someone was dying. I didn't... didn't... didn't expect Nettle to...." His fingers tightened in her clothing once more. It was a tight grip that was an attempt to anchor him. There was so much happening in his life that Quellyn felt atoss, as if he were back aboard the ship that had brought them here. His eyes went down to the pillie that was desperately trying to comfort him. "I don't want to tell stories. I don't. Not when I'm only telling stories to people who die. My most important ones."

He turned his head away from Misty, and the pillie waved her feelers one more time before scooting behind the older woman, sad that Hers didn't want her company and she couldn't help him more anyway.

"I don't want to be a Candidate anymore. Can't I just be a Harper? Then I could go away and live in a Hold and not see hatchings anymore. I won't have to see anyone die except Nettle." The boy turned sad eyes up at the older woman. "I don't want to be tested. I was a dimglow, asking to be Searched to get more stories. I don't want any more stories. Not like that one." He would definitely have to take to Jasmine later, for sure, no matter what happened between him and Salina right here.

[turkoizdog]

When Quellyn's grip tightened, Salina held him closer. Death was never a fun thing to think about, and while Salina had age and experience hardening her spirit to such sadness, Quellyn was young. Perhaps he wasn't ready yet, but she had no doubt that with time, he would be.

Salina sat down, legs beginning to get tired from standing so long. Now she was at eye level for him. "Well, maybe you could try and make up some stories." she said. "Stories about how amazing it will be one day, when you are a dragon rider or a harper, or whatever you choose to become." she told him. "I know it's hard, but you are a very strong boy. You will get through this, I promise."

When Quellyn mentioned not wanting to only tell stories to people who die, Salina's heart sunk a bit. Everyone was going to die, eventually, but that wasn't something he needed to hear right now. "You tell your stories to many people, not just your mother and Nettle. You've told plenty of stories to me, and I'm sure many of the candidates would love to hear your stories as well."

His remark about not wanting to be a Candidate anymore did not surprise her. It wasn't the first time she had heard of a candidate switching to a craft, and yet it saddened her. Not every child was lucky enough to be searched, and since he had, there was obviously some potential for greatness.

"Dear, you may have asked to be searched, but you would have been turned down were it not for how much potential you carry. You may be a bit young now, but take your time with this decision, alright? You still have a lot going on, and once life has calmed down a little, you can look into yourself, and decide based on what you really want." Salina reached out and held his hands between hers, squeezing them lightly. "If you're a bit nervous, talk to Jasmine. Maybe she'll let you sit out a hatching or two, and you can look into a harper apprenticeship. Many dragon riders manage to become journeymen, some even master crafters, and you do have a gift with stories."

[Kiran]

Quellyn loosened his grip a touch when the older woman sat down. He felt a bit embarrassed for clinging to her like that, especially when she was older and couldn't take the same stuff as someone younger, but was glad that she didn't mind his childishness that he was indulging in at the moment. Perhaps a childishness he wouldn't be able to shake. Her promise was little comfort to him now. Perhaps later. When he was older. But at least he had one person's vote of confidence!

His face furrowed when she mentioned all the stories he had told others. "Doesn't matter. They're all gonna die, too. I saw the girl bleed out. And the iron went and threatened me, too. Had a claw right to my throat." He knew that everyone died. Couldn't deny it now, not with having seen the girl die. Not with nearly going himself. He didn't know if the iron would actually have killed him but it didn't matter. The threat was enough. He gave a slight shiver. "Besides, it's not the other Candidates asking for stories, it's Nettle."

A small sniffle escaped the boy when she said that he should take his time making the decision. "No matter when I go out there, I could see someone die. Die myself. Even if I sit out a time or two." Quellyn was silent for a moment before following that up. "I suppose it can't hurt. I guess every rider sees something like that. I just can't... I mean.... I don't know how they do it. I don't know how YOU did it. And then to have your dragon die. Salina, is it worth it? Is it really that worth it?"

He had pulled back to search her face desperately, looking for answers. The almost-Harper couldn't imagine the pain of losing a dragon after going through everything to get it. Why do any of that? Was it worth the stories he had been searching for? This was Dalibor. There were other stories to be had. Weren't there? Did a dragon make anything worth it?