The Opium of the People [Fido]

[Kila]

Are you sure this is a good idea, Mine? You don't know what is wrong with Altith's. What is he is very sick? What if he has spots or bumps or fangs? Do you think he will bite? What if he's crazy? Maybe he sprouted wings and they're keeping him here so he won't fly away! What if-

Ecco! Really! Sol cut her dragon off with bemused exasperation. I'm sure F'del is relatively fine. I'm just going to visit- it will be okay. I don't know what's wrong with him, but I'm sure he must be bored or lonely being hold up like this. He's missed several lessons and, well, I'm worried.

And why shouldn't she be? Not only was F'del her Weyrling Master, he was also her friend. Right? Sort of. He was one of the first people she'd talked to at the Weyr, and he had always been kind to her. Maybe she could do something to make him feel better. Relaying the idea of him sprouting wings and flying off should at least make him giggle. It was absurd, but then again, all of Eccolath's speculations were fantastical. It was without doubt worse when there was no definite answer and things were left to the dreamy Cyan's imagination, Farnath love her.

That's so noble of you, Mine. Like the hero of a story. I think you'd make a great hero, Mine. Or maybe a healer. B'nyur would like that.

Sol smiled at that and knocked on F'del's door when she reached it, entering when she heard a response. "Hello? F'del? It's Sol. May I come in?" she called, ear inclined slightly towards the door for a reply.

[fidelli]

F'del was in bed. Mind you, he didn't want to be there, but some of the worse was over. He was feeling shaky, his words were not as calm, and he had a glassy light to his eyes - the fever had set in. Withdrawl was the worst, and all of the time the aches and the pain just urged him for one little taste, one drop of feliis. But Altith was there, crouched over His's bed. Usually he stayed in his couch, but now he only watch His sleep, tail tip twitching as he helped to scare away the nightmares. Poor His.

The man was dreaming, nightmares torturing and spinning him around as he fought through the darkness, the lack of colors. He knew he had to find a color, had to find a shape through the darkness that was being kept from him. Shadows scratched at his face, whispers of words that he did not want to hear, whispers of death and sadness and torture, whispers of faults being blamed and the screaming of young voices as they left life forever.

Suddenly he was dropped, knees jarring on the firm ground... But he did not feel awful besides that. He was not feverish, was not achy... But the fellis had not gripped his brain. Green eyes danced around, peering out to understand where he was, how he had gotten there. It was spring, in a forest, and the blossoms of the trees lay white and pale pink on the hedge banks like fresh snow. Sunlight dappled through the trees, creating elegant patterns, and very carefully the different plants were putting on new leaves, of fresh, shy green. He wouldn't know this, but the new green of spring matched his eyes. He waited a few more minutes, for something... Something he was waiting for... But he could not find it, and began to take hesitant steps forward, through the rollicking forest. It was quiet - no birds sung, only whispers he could not quite make out as the wind spoke to the trees.

...And then, even as he walked, he suddenly found himself walking up. Straight up, as though he was just easily walking along, until he walked above the trees and looking down, could see the tops in the cleaves that dip down into the earth, how they are a green sea, stirring and shushing in the wind, and the hills, beyond them reach away in a hazy veil of green and blue... And then another color seemed to make it's way from that. A color, tempered in shades and hues of darkness, mist tainting it, was fighting to clear the mist and the tree's, to make itself known. And even as he climbed upwards higher, trying to get a good look at the new addition to his world, a glimmer of recognition started to slip into his mind...

And then he was falling, whatever had been holding him up dropping him down and down and down even as he swallowed his screams and fought for the chance to grab something, anything...

BOOM.

F'del shot up, almost hitting Altith, face twisted in terror and covered in an icy sheen. Altith - who had been looking towards the door - murmured, It is a Weyrling. You know her, a Cyan-rider of Eccolath. Sol? The rider shuddered again, scrubbing his face with his hands to wake up, to try and stop his heart from beating. "What did she say?" His words were hoarse, not used to speaking out loud, and a cough started up in his throat. 'Hello? F'del? It's Sol. May I come in?' His mind was so fuzzy, so unused, he had to think for a moment. It was only when Ribbon slipped into his arms did he remember - Sol. She had Impressed with him to the young firelizard clutch, and had spoken with him before that. She was friends with that Pinkrider that made his head hurt - Pink Oorth's. Pratyba. Yeah. Her.

Cobwebs that hadn't been shaken were now fought to detangle, and he shuddered once again before lifting his voice - or trying. "Come in!" Altith helped his, murmuring to the girl - and totally forgetting his orders of NOT speaking to the weyrlings, Quietly, please. Mine is still ill, and loud noises hurt him. But thank you for visiting.

[Kila]

Sol cocked her head more towards the door, her blue-gray eyes reflecting the confusion she felt. She thought she had heard F’del. Was that croak really his voice? Altith was kind enough to clear it up for her. The Purple’s familiar voice was quiet and kind and didn’t feel out of place at all in her head. Eccolath shifted nervously on the ledge behind her- her imagination had gotten the best of her. Altith says it’s just fine. Don’t be dramatic, love, Sol laughed softly, stroking her bonded’s muzzle before opening the door quietly and slipping it in.

The room was dark and Sol had to pause by the door to allow her eyes to adjust. She could make out a cot with someone in it across the room, dimly at first, and then she recognized it to be her Weyrling Master. ”F’del,” she said gently, moving across the room to his bed and sitting on the very edge of it. ”How are you? She was shocked to see his face, though she did her best not to let it show. His skin was covered in sweat and he shook unsteadily in his sheets. He seemed to have lost his color and his features were sunken, but worst of all were his eyes. The kind, helpful eyes that had guided her and helped her to learn how to grow with Eccolath like no one else had were dull and distant. She swallowed back a sob that was rising dangerously in her throat and gave him a brave smile. ”We’ve missed you.”