Post by Lan on Feb 18, 2010 18:37:40 GMT -5
the morning after the morning after the battle
It was early morning. The sun had not yet chased away the gloom and doom of the thick ocean fog and it was still chilly and miserable. Even now, the air still felt tainted with spilled dragon's blood and the earth, the very Weyr still seemed to be holding its breath. It was not a good day. Not in the slightest. The labor pains of Pern had brought about a most horrific battle. Dragon had fought dragon. There were no amount of words or civilities now that could make that fact and atrocity go away. It seemed as if every face on Pern was now turned toward Dalibor Weyr in anticipation and loss, and the very stones of the Weyr seemed to quake with this knowledge. So much, in fact, that the hunger pains of a blackrider were too trivial to notice. C'lin liked attention... but not this much.
With Reyith still snoozing on the ledge, C'lin had managed to sneak down to the kitchens in his unrested state and had tried his usual antics to smuggle food out. But, not only were the kitchens frighteningly empty, but the few who were there were increasingly unhelpful and unamicable. He found himself frustrated. He didn't even know these cooks that were in the kitchen, and he prided himself with knowing (or at least recognizing) every face in the sharding Weyr! Some of the cooks must have been healers, he thought to himself, for their tending those in need would be the only explanation that he would find worthing of depriving him of his ridiculously early and usually stolen breakfast.
'No worries...' He managed to keep his voice level, 'I'll just be starving over there if you change your mind.' The last part was accented with a bright, flirtatious smile as he turned on his heel and found a place to sit in solitude in the dining hall. And there, in the silence, he felt his mind cracking. Everything had been bad before, but this? Dragons and dragonriders slain by their own hand? It seemed a waste. It huge, ridiculous waste. Make love, not war. That was his personal motto... which got him into trouble of many occasions. But what did this accomplish? Nothing except that the few people he had to flirt with and have fun with were busy with other things. And, shard it all, he was talking about the cooks! He needed someone else to distract him... quickly.
He felt Reyith stir and enter his mind with worry and he realized that, in his distress, he had woken his quiet lifemate. 'I'm sorry, my love... I'm not in sorts. Don't worry about me, okay?' The last part was a plea that was both heartfelt and unoptimistic. He knew that the black dragon would continue his worries and fears for as long as C'lin was upset in anyway possible. It was sad, to know that he was causing so much stress to the one creature on Pern that held his whole heart and affections. It made him feel even worse about himself. Shells, he was getting depressed about everything recently! How he needed someone new to take his mind off of everything... and anyone would do.
Reyith sent soothing waves of love, in his usual manner, that overwhelmed C'lin's distressed mind and made the rider relax in the smallest degree. How Reyith loved him... just as he was. Even if C'lin thought himself broken, Reyith found him beautiful. And Reyith would always love him. Through fog, fall, fire, and even through dragon-vs-dragon war Reyith would never cease to love His Own. He had picked C'lin out from the Hatching Sands of Eastern Weyr and for as long as he breathed he wished for no other. C'lin was His Own, His Wonderful Beautiful Own, and was that not enough for C'lin?
'I love you too... so much. And of course you're enough. You're always enough.' C'lin sent a wave of affection back to his weyrmate, feeling silly now for once again being depressed when he had such a lovely partner in life that would take care of him through everything. 'I just wish there was some human I could connect with, that's all. I'm feeling somewhat lonely.' He then sighed and leaned back against the table with his forearms, looking out at the other tables and the rest of the dininghall with already disappointed anticipation. He was a morning person (or at least he liked to be, for in truth sometimes he wasn't), and he doubted that anyone else would be awake at this hour. But, hey, a guy could hope, couldn't he?
