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Sari's Soliloquies

A place to put drabbles, one-shots, theme challenges, letters to other characters, and other assorted in-character bits.
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Sari
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Posts: 371
Joined: Sat Jul 27, 2019 7:53 am
Sat May 09, 2020 1:02 pm

Sari's Soliloquies

Table of Contents
-Current-
1. The Adoring - Arkta of Green Arktask (Fort Weyr, 2769)
2. Processing the Pain - E'nyo of White Nohadoth (Semaca Weyr, 2770)
3. Failure of White Disappointmenth - Nova of White Scryth (High Reaches Weyr, 2770)
4. On the wings of kings - E'nyo of White Nohadoth (Semaca Weyr, 2770)
5. The Glory of Impression - Ky'ze of Blue Olarith (Semaca Weyr, 2767)

-Planned-
-various characters reminisce
-interactions :eyes:
-E'nyo/Nohadoth injury, processing and happening
-Backdated Impression Threads: every bond except L'ru/Nova

This is a place for my one-shots, solos, journals, and so on. Fun IC things! Yes, I stole the format from my old drabbles thread.

Code: Select all
[center][b]Title[/b]
[i][color=]Name of Color Name[/color] - Weyr, Turn[/i][/center]
Last edited by Sari on Fri Jul 17, 2020 7:01 am, edited 11 times in total.
Thread Tracker - Soliloquies
Fort Weyr
Weyrling L'ru of Brown Ghermath
Maze of Garnet Temporaeth
Sy'rei of Green Asrakaerth
Fyrrowen of Green Rowesk
Arkta of Green Arktask
Candidate Mite
Candidate Thyne

WIP: Zarsteyr of Green Zarssk
WIP: K'me of Green Wadjeth
High Reaches Weyr
A'riga of Bronze Kairaelth
K'rou of Blue Nonaryth
Sigil of Green Euraroth
Enet of Green Aibouth
Weyrling Nova of White Scryth
Candidate Nyrida

WIP: none
Semaca Weyr
Kas of Garnet Vaheoth
Ky'ze of Blue Olarith
Aedih of Blue Rauseth
E'nyo of White Nohadoth
Makai of Blue Kask & Brown Makaisk
Khera of Green-Blue Khersk
Candidate Viiox

WIP: Pirate Teleka
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Sari
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Posts: 371
Joined: Sat Jul 27, 2019 7:53 am
Sat May 09, 2020 1:23 pm

The Adoring
Arkta of Green Arktask - Fort Weyr, 2769


Their home had forsaken them.

That was the way of it, wasn't it? She had never thought she'd feel hurt by a place, and yet, here she was. Cast out of Fort Hold, alongside Mystacor, she had nowhere to go. There were places that might welcome her, of course, and the most obvious was Fort Weyr, but did she want to go to the place that had, so long ago, made her dearest friend abandon her?

No. She didn't. But she was going there anyways. Mystacor said it would be best. Mystacor said they had to. Mystacor said that there would be room for ambitions at the Weyr, as well. Shards, Arkta was sick to death of Mystacor. If she could, she'd leave Mystacor behind. Why didn't she, then? She was her own person, as Arktask reminded her. It wasn't just that she was afraid of Mystacor; she was also afraid of another abandonment. Arkta had been seen as slightly more worthy by Mystacor since her Impression, but Arkta was still scorned by the only family figure she had.

Arkta found herself here, standing in her new quarters. All her own, somewhere to stay. Annoyed, she dropped her bags in front of the bed, glancing around the room with a scowl. She just wanted to go home, to go back to how things were. Forsk those forsking rebels, kicking out wherhandlers. It just wasn't right. Unfair.

And what Arkta do about? Arktask asked--a genuine question. What would Arkta do? Just sit and feel sorry for herself? Or make the best of the situation?

I'll be the one calling the shots.

Lazy Arkta never call shots. Lazy Arkta need Arktask. The wher snorted, pacing the room idly. Arkta bristled at her wher's comments, but could not deny it. She wasn't motivated to do the work, but she wanted to carve out a name, a legacy. She just wanted to be someone, even if she couldn't be someone at Fort Hold.

She'd show them all. She'd show Mystacor and Adora. Shards, she'd show the entirety of Fort Hold! She'd become great, and they could just sharding watch as she...

Kinda tired from all that, she remarked, suddenly. The energy she'd been riding--her frustration at the situation, the adrenaline of it all--disappeared suddenly, leaving her drained, tired, and melancholy. Heaving a sigh, she fell onto her bed, and closed her eyes.

Here she was, away from home, the place she'd been raised. As far as she cared, Fort Hold was home, and Fort Weyr was a strange, alien place. What's worse is that she was in the same place as Adora and Mystacor. Adora, the reminder of her abandonment, the friend who'd left her for a promise of hoping for sharding dragons. Mystacor, the one who'd shaped so much of her life, but had never quite approved of her in the same way. Mystacor had adored Adora. That's who it was all about, wasn't it? Shards. Arkta hated this. It was unfair! She just...she just wanted to go home.

What would she do now?

((May not be canon, because I'm not sure what Mystacor is up to, but I wanted to explore Arkta's feelings around the move a bit.))
Thread Tracker - Soliloquies
Fort Weyr
Weyrling L'ru of Brown Ghermath
Maze of Garnet Temporaeth
Sy'rei of Green Asrakaerth
Fyrrowen of Green Rowesk
Arkta of Green Arktask
Candidate Mite
Candidate Thyne

WIP: Zarsteyr of Green Zarssk
WIP: K'me of Green Wadjeth
High Reaches Weyr
A'riga of Bronze Kairaelth
K'rou of Blue Nonaryth
Sigil of Green Euraroth
Enet of Green Aibouth
Weyrling Nova of White Scryth
Candidate Nyrida

WIP: none
Semaca Weyr
Kas of Garnet Vaheoth
Ky'ze of Blue Olarith
Aedih of Blue Rauseth
E'nyo of White Nohadoth
Makai of Blue Kask & Brown Makaisk
Khera of Green-Blue Khersk
Candidate Viiox

WIP: Pirate Teleka
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Sari
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Posts: 371
Joined: Sat Jul 27, 2019 7:53 am
Sun May 10, 2020 4:21 am

Processing the Pain - wip, probably
E'nyo of White Nohadoth - Semaca Weyr, 2770


Nohadoth's wing and leg had healed...as much as they would. The bone had set, and there was, no longer, any need to protect his injuries. No...now it would just be settling into their new normal. They could go back to work, but work was different now. No flying thread. No flying at all. Chopin Squad. It wasn't the worst place to be, but it wasn't where the pair wanted to be. They missed their wing. They missed fighting thread.

Nohadoth, for his part, seemed to be doing slightly better--but only slightly. He stood in the weyrbowl, stretching his wings out. The damaged one moved stiffly, accompanied by a dull, but manageable, ache. That, it seemed, would never entirely go away.

The white glanced towards the sky as a dragon flew over them. A blue, one with pale hide and narrow wings. The blue maneuvered in the air, flipping onto his side, while his rider yelled in excitement. An older weyrling? A younger adult dragon? Someone who just enjoyed the thrill of flight? Nohadoth gave a soft whimper at the sight, and slowly, gently, he raised his wings, before lowering them, folding them against his back, once more.

E'nyo sighed. Her dragon had been so different since the injury. He'd barely spoken. Nohadoth echoed the sigh, lowering his head. His hide, snow white with gray, marble-like markings, seemed more gray with every day. He stared up to the skies. Silent.

No wise remarks. No cheerful or obnoxious comments. He hadn't even cursed much since finding out the news.

Only time would tell how he would recover emotionally, but...he yearned to touch the sky, once more.
Thread Tracker - Soliloquies
Fort Weyr
Weyrling L'ru of Brown Ghermath
Maze of Garnet Temporaeth
Sy'rei of Green Asrakaerth
Fyrrowen of Green Rowesk
Arkta of Green Arktask
Candidate Mite
Candidate Thyne

WIP: Zarsteyr of Green Zarssk
WIP: K'me of Green Wadjeth
High Reaches Weyr
A'riga of Bronze Kairaelth
K'rou of Blue Nonaryth
Sigil of Green Euraroth
Enet of Green Aibouth
Weyrling Nova of White Scryth
Candidate Nyrida

WIP: none
Semaca Weyr
Kas of Garnet Vaheoth
Ky'ze of Blue Olarith
Aedih of Blue Rauseth
E'nyo of White Nohadoth
Makai of Blue Kask & Brown Makaisk
Khera of Green-Blue Khersk
Candidate Viiox

WIP: Pirate Teleka
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Sari
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Posts: 371
Joined: Sat Jul 27, 2019 7:53 am
Mon Jun 15, 2020 8:40 am

Failure of White Disappointmenth
Nova of White Scryth - High Reaches Weyr, 2770 (2761, 2757)

Scryth was tired. They'd just hatched, and that had been quite the ordeal. Nova, however, couldn't sleep. They glared at Scryth's sleeping form, their mind wandering as they stoked the fires of this injustice within their heart. How many bronzes had passed them up? And Aldoeith, choosing a different candidate? All that could be forgiven, but...they were now tied down. And to Scryth. Their dreams of ruling the Weyr upon gold or bronze, of returning High Reaches to the golden era that their father had loved so much...gone. They were inferior, now. A failure, rider of a disappointment. They had failed. What would their father think? Well. They knew that well enough, didn't they?




The turn was 2761, an unassuming day in Winter.

A young Nova stood in their father's weyr. It just so happened that today, this lovely winter evening, was this young individual's birthday. Though it was fifteen turns ago they were given life, it was only today that they would become a candidate.

A'raen looked at them--the only child he accepted as his own, regardless of his traditional nature, and Nova's new pronouns. Proud, despite the low rank of his child as of today, he placed his hands on Nova's shoulders. "Nova. Today you take your place as a candidate. Keep in mind, you are not like those lowly other candidates. You are destined for greatness. Gold or bronze, it matters not--but you have the blood of bronzes in your veins."

They nodded, beaming up at the bronzerider. "Yes, father," they said, eyes wide. They were destined for greatness! A'raen was right. They may be a candidate, but they would not be for long. No matter how they waited, eventually, their bronze or gold would be worth it.

"Good. I will not accept any less from you. Some of your classmates will be chromaticriders, but their lowly role will be none of your concern. Others may even ride white. You ought not associate with these failures." His face softened. "I am so, so proud of you, Nova. You are taking your first steps towards coming into your own. You will become one of Golre's favored metallic riders." They smiled at their father, and A'raen smiled back. Soon, they would stand for their first hatching, and prove their worth at High Reaches.

Oh, how they looked forward to their Impression.





Now that Nova had Impressed, however...they only felt bitter. A'raen would have scorned them, disowned them, of that they were certain. No amount of love could forgive Impressing Scryth. As they looked back to their white dragon, their brow now knitted, as their anger faded to pain, hurt. A'raen was the only one who had mattered to them, even after he was gone, and here Nova was, the lowest of the low. Even other white dragons weren't as useless as they would be. Flightless and weak, could Scryth even be in a ground crew?

Dubious. They gave a soft sigh. Here, in their weyr, they could relax. How had it come to this? How had they become a failure? Were they even worth anything, anymore? Without a gold or bronze, and with...Scryth...they were, undeniably, a failure, they thought to themselves. As the memory of their father remained, a tear came to their eye. They couldn't keep his legacy alive. He would be ashamed of them, and now that he was gone, well...perhaps it made it worse. They knew he wouldn't accept them, but he wouldn't have the chance to disown them. Each time they had declared themselves the child of A'raen, the bronzerider, they had prepared his name to be dragged even further through the mud.

And their own name, as well. Ashamed. Not of how they had behaved, but of what they had Impressed. They put their head into their hands, a soft sniffle sounding from them. Here, in the privacy of their new rooms, they allowed themselves to feel sorrow. No one would ever take them seriously. They would never BE anyone. They had fallen from grace, fallen from their powerful place. Now they were nothing. Bitterly, they hated the world. Hated High Reaches. Hated the other weyrlings. Hated Aldoeith and Toki. Hated Scryth. Everyone except their father.




2757. Nova was nineteen. A'raen had left with Golre to fight Fort, and they eagerly awaited word of his return, his victory. Golre, who would lead them to salvation, and A'raen, who would, someday,be her second in command. Perhaps someday, Nova would even take the mantle from one of them. But for now, they just waited.

Until...the sound of keening, strong and all at once, touched their ears. "Who? Who was it?" they asked, to no one in particular. They looked around the weyrbowl, noting how each rider either lowered their gaze, or lifted it towards the skies. Hope, written on some faces. Joy, even. Joy? How? Some riders seemed mournful, as was proper, but...surely, it couldn't be Golre, could it?

"Golre. And the bronzes. All of them." A bluerider, from her knots, spoke softly. She, despite her rank, at least had the decency to mourn.

"A'raen? Allordrith?" Nova's voice was pleading, a change from the chilly, disinterested, even disdainful tone they usually used.

For a while, the bluerider did not respond. Finally, she turned towards Nova, meeting their eyes. "I'm sorry." Nova just stared, as their hands balled into fists. No. No, this rider was wrong! Lying! Lying, filthy blueriders! Useless, beneath them!

But, as they would discover, it was not a lie. Their father was gone. Golre was gone. And now...now, they had no choice but to usher High Reaches towards it's second golden era.





They hadn't realized it, but they were crying, now. Scryth lifted their head, slowly crawling towards their rider. They placed their head on Nova's lap, and their rider looked down at them, tears in their eyes. You are not a failure, even if I am a disappointment. I will...help you through this, if you will let me, they said, softly, nuzzling their rider's stomach, despite the effort it took.

If you tell anyone about this, I will kill you. Dragonless or not. Nova's empty threat, no matter how cruel, was accompanied by them wrapping their arms gently around the tiny dragon, sobbing. Any comfort, even if it was Scryth, was welcome, right now. They just needed someone. Anyone. In this moment--and the moment wouldn't last forever--their heart entwined with Scryth's, and they sobbed into their hide. Dignified, regal, arrogant Nova...where were they? Now they were nothing. Had nothing. Their hopes and dreams--no, their expectations and entitlement--all gone. And Scryth was to blame.

They would hate Scryth again in the morning, but for now, they simply clung to their dragon and cried. What were they crying about? Everything. Absolutely everything. Everything they'd built themselves up to be, all the expectations that had been put on them--even if by themselves. Suddenly, the weight of their pride crushed them. They had nothing. They were no one.

Worse. They were Nova of White Scryth.
Thread Tracker - Soliloquies
Fort Weyr
Weyrling L'ru of Brown Ghermath
Maze of Garnet Temporaeth
Sy'rei of Green Asrakaerth
Fyrrowen of Green Rowesk
Arkta of Green Arktask
Candidate Mite
Candidate Thyne

WIP: Zarsteyr of Green Zarssk
WIP: K'me of Green Wadjeth
High Reaches Weyr
A'riga of Bronze Kairaelth
K'rou of Blue Nonaryth
Sigil of Green Euraroth
Enet of Green Aibouth
Weyrling Nova of White Scryth
Candidate Nyrida

WIP: none
Semaca Weyr
Kas of Garnet Vaheoth
Ky'ze of Blue Olarith
Aedih of Blue Rauseth
E'nyo of White Nohadoth
Makai of Blue Kask & Brown Makaisk
Khera of Green-Blue Khersk
Candidate Viiox

WIP: Pirate Teleka
User avatar
Sari
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Posts: 371
Joined: Sat Jul 27, 2019 7:53 am
Fri Jul 03, 2020 7:56 am

On the wings of kings
E'nyo of White Nohadoth - Fort, Late Fall 2770


It had been about two or three seasons since Nohadoth's injury. Just as Arena had said--he'd plateaued. No more hope of flight, no more hope of thread fighting. How could they be useful? While Nohadoth was adjusting, he still had taken it hard, and seemed almost a shadow of the playful, fiery dragon he used to be.

It was time for a change. E'nyo had signed them up for the assistant Weyrlingmaster role. Something to keep them busy, make Nohadoth feel useful. Make herself feel useful. Maybe they couldn't fly, but that wouldn't stop them from leaving an impact, making a change. If they couldn't fly thread, they'd help the next generation do it.

Nohadoth, surprisingly, seemed to cheer up after they'd been approved to fill the role. He almost looked forward to it. While there were no weyrlings at the time, he hoped that soon, there would be a clutch. He wanted to be around little ones, the new, fresh dragons, so full of life.

He almost felt...happy?
Thread Tracker - Soliloquies
Fort Weyr
Weyrling L'ru of Brown Ghermath
Maze of Garnet Temporaeth
Sy'rei of Green Asrakaerth
Fyrrowen of Green Rowesk
Arkta of Green Arktask
Candidate Mite
Candidate Thyne

WIP: Zarsteyr of Green Zarssk
WIP: K'me of Green Wadjeth
High Reaches Weyr
A'riga of Bronze Kairaelth
K'rou of Blue Nonaryth
Sigil of Green Euraroth
Enet of Green Aibouth
Weyrling Nova of White Scryth
Candidate Nyrida

WIP: none
Semaca Weyr
Kas of Garnet Vaheoth
Ky'ze of Blue Olarith
Aedih of Blue Rauseth
E'nyo of White Nohadoth
Makai of Blue Kask & Brown Makaisk
Khera of Green-Blue Khersk
Candidate Viiox

WIP: Pirate Teleka
User avatar
Sari
Weyrling
 
Posts: 371
Joined: Sat Jul 27, 2019 7:53 am
Fri Jul 17, 2020 7:00 am

The Glory of Impression
Ky’ze of Blue Olarith - Semaca Weyr, 2767


TW: Blood/Violence/Mauling, trauma (especially for dragon)

As they entered the sands, they held their head high. Kyzier knew they would Impress. They’d felt it, a stirring from within the egg--their egg. That wonderful connection, the feeling that the dragon within had chosen them. They recalled the moment, as they bowed to Nebulaeth, of perfection. The Alpha Ursae seemed to settled for only a moment before it burst with this overwhelming dashing feeling, with this sense of rogueish charm, latching right on to Kyzier's mind and deeply desiring the feeling of connection.

A good egg, too. Not gold or bronze, most likely, but they didn’t mind horribly. At Semaca, their ambitions could be sated with any color, and shiny/big, while fun, wasn’t something they were married to. They would love their dragon, no matter what. A grin found its way onto their face, a daydreamy expression as they thought of the egg--their egg! It was a good egg, too. Dashing, bold, and wonderful. Quite the charmer!

Finally! Their day had come!

As they settled in, starting to chat with some nearby candidates, they offered a wave to their sister. Anoni, in the stands, was such a staunch supporter of them, and they were happy to see she’d come to witness their moment. How would their Impression go? You only got one perfect moment, and this would be it. They were thrilled, bouncing back on their heels. It would be the moment of their life that everything would change, that would make everything PERFECT.

Still, they watched with interest as each egg hatched. The first green may not have been Kyzier’s, but shards, she was so cute, and Kyzier did love watching dragon babies. As the hatching progressed, they grew more fidgety, but also more excited. Their egg would be soon...sooner with each passing hatching. Even if their egg was last, they’d wait, and that moment approached closer with each second.

Then, Horror Phobia hatched. The sixth egg. They marveled at the shiny blue, and Kyzier did not notice the strangeness in his body language. As the blue approached, Kyzier offered a grin. Not their dragon, but--

The blue--they’d later know his name as Ophoth, terrible and terrifying--attacked. In a flurry of tooth and nail, claw and maw, Kyzier fell to the ground. The dragon on top of them ripped into flesh, and the pain was searing, beyond anything they’d ever experienced. Their arms, their legs...it all hurt. Even once the blue had left, they lay on the sands, stunned. Their arm, in particular, ached--but their legs, their legs. Bloodied, if not broken, they couldn’t stand. Their mind felt fuzzy with the pain. They first thanked Faranth when the healers approached, the people who, in their mind, could soothe the pain, help patch them up, so they could Impress.

When the healers insisted they leave the sands--first Beliana, then two more--they thought, “forsk this.” They couldn’t--their dragon would between without them! They were, of course, reassured that this wasn’t the case, but even still. They needed their dragon. Their dragon needed them. They’d known--they’d known it was their dragon, and they were so close. With disoriented stubbornness, they’d refused to budge. ”Just a moment longer,” they remembered saying. ”My dragon is almost here.” They needed to stay--they did! They were barely lucid and couldn’t stand, but despite the healer’s best efforts, they remained where they were. Just when the healers were ready to move them by force…Alpha Ursae hatched.

They watched, stunned, as the glorious blue--iridescent, as far as their addled mind was aware--joyfully strutted across the sands. He was so beautiful, so handsome...and as the self-assured dragon’s eyes turned onto Kyzier, he Impressed--at first, a joyful, perfect moment. Just like they’d imagined...beyond the pain and blood. A smile touched their face at the sight of those rainbows.

The beauty of the moment was instantly shattered.

Olarith’s eyes whirled with confusion and pain. The hatchling, his mind so young, struggled to process all that Kyzier felt. He spread his wings, eyes whirling with grayish yellows, as the panic set in. No! they cried, but the word didn’t even reach their lips. Quickly, one of the healers grabbed the dragon. He flailed, trying to break free, his heart set on betweening, even as he was pushed into Kyzier’s arms. They held him tightly, despite the ache of their broken arm. They likely worsened the break by doing so, but shards, what was an arm compared to their dragon’s life?

Olarith was traumatized and had almost betweened. Because of them. Their heart broke as the dragon panicked, and even once he settled down, clinging to Kyzier, the distressed wailing that came from their dragon made tears rush to their eyes. ”I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they muttered, over and over again. As they were escorted to the infirmary, they didn’t hear the harsh responses of the frustrated and upset healers. They were too busy holding their dragon, mentally promising him it would be okay. Their heart ached. Not for themselves...but for him. For Olarith. He hadn’t deserved it.

Softly, the dragon spoke, for the first time. Not shielding his thoughts from anyone around him. The healers heard his first word, shaky and afraid. Why? The distress that radiated from their dragon...he thought they were both going to die. He just wanted the pain to stop. And even still...he believed in Kyzier. He wanted them to fix it.

Oh, shards...they’d really forsked up this time, hadn’t they?
Thread Tracker - Soliloquies
Fort Weyr
Weyrling L'ru of Brown Ghermath
Maze of Garnet Temporaeth
Sy'rei of Green Asrakaerth
Fyrrowen of Green Rowesk
Arkta of Green Arktask
Candidate Mite
Candidate Thyne

WIP: Zarsteyr of Green Zarssk
WIP: K'me of Green Wadjeth
High Reaches Weyr
A'riga of Bronze Kairaelth
K'rou of Blue Nonaryth
Sigil of Green Euraroth
Enet of Green Aibouth
Weyrling Nova of White Scryth
Candidate Nyrida

WIP: none
Semaca Weyr
Kas of Garnet Vaheoth
Ky'ze of Blue Olarith
Aedih of Blue Rauseth
E'nyo of White Nohadoth
Makai of Blue Kask & Brown Makaisk
Khera of Green-Blue Khersk
Candidate Viiox

WIP: Pirate Teleka
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