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Merry's Monologues

A place to put drabbles, one-shots, theme challenges, letters to other characters, and other assorted in-character bits.
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memerina
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Merry's Monologues

Contents




1 --- The Decision Game --- Kah'ai of White Saupeth --- Late Spring 2771
2 --- Uncharacteristic Humility --- Miraelle of Green Pharasmath --- Early Summer 2771
3 --- Time and Space --- Cyr'a of Green Equinoth --- Late Winter 2762
4 --- No Longer Alone --- Dirys of Green Bremirth --- Early Winter 2768
Last edited by memerina on Wed Dec 30, 2020 12:33 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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memerina
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Sun Nov 22, 2020 8:15 am

The Decision Game
Kah'ai of White Saupeth ~ Late Spring 2771


The High Reaches Council Vote was always an interesting time of the turn. It allowed basically anyone, no matter who they were, or how great their policies were, to run for a leadership position over the entire Weyr. That was a whole lot of responsibility - one of which Kah'ai hadn't particularly considered every single nuance. But man... could you imagine? Saupeth was old enough now. It'd be fun if they tried it, at least before Aldoeith becomes old enough to bring back the Weyrwoman format; that is, if people don't protest it. Which they probably will.

The whiterider mulled this over, chin in hands, as she stared out of her weyrledge towards the sky. Man, it'd be so cool. Weyrleader. That sounded so forsking awesome. She turned around to her dragon, who was taking a rest. "Hey, what if we ran for Weyrleader?" Saupeth opened a purple-tinted eye at her. He knew that she was probably too incoherent, too incompetent, too inconsistent. Hm. I suppose you would have to be cut out for the position. And you... have a tendency to be a little indecisive-- no, scratch that. You are VERY indecisive. Kah'ai got up, and wandered over towards her dragon. "Hey, hey, Saupeth, listen to this, right. Hear me out. It means you get to be the most important dragon in the Weyr." She knew that would tempt him. "AND we get to tell people what to do!"
I already am the most important dragon in the Weyr. However, you raise a great point. We could be even greater, were we to run for Weyrleader... and previous Weyrleaders have not exactly been the most competent. At least I know you wouldn't throw a tantrum if a gold hatched. He stood up, stretching. His tone was bitter - more bitter than usual, as he almost spat out his words. The way Anaiya acted after Aldoeith hatched was vile and unprofessional. She will not be re-elected. Kah'ai had to admit she didn't have much issue with the way Anaiya ran things; but, Saupeth was right. She wouldn't have had much issue with Aldoeith simply existing. She wouldn't have much issue with Aldoeith being a leader. Sometimes golds hatched. That's just how Weyrs worked.

"So are we gonna do it?" It was worth a shot, in her mind. Also she kinda wanted to know what might feel like to have power. In most cases, I would stop you, yet... the concept of greatness intrigues me. We should run for Weyrleader.

Those were the words. The go-ahead. The green light. That was enough for Kah'ai to seriously consider this instead of thinking it on a whim.
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memerina
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Tue Dec 22, 2020 6:31 am

Uncharacteristic Humility
Miraelle of Green Pharasmath ~ Early Summer 2771


TW: self-ableist thoughts? angst. possible abusive language

Worthless.

Absolutely worthless.

Once Miraelle was able to get out of the infirmary, she felt utterly worthless. Nothing, despite A'riga's persuasion, could make her feel any better. She couldn't even walk properly; her left leg felt like dead weight on her body. Stumbling around. Every now and again, she touched the stump that was once an arm. Remembering what she had. Remembering what she could do. And how one Threadfall changed everything.

Upon returning to her weyr, she immediately flopped backwards into her bed. Staring at the ceiling. Filled with thoughts. Angry at the world. How could this happen? The dragon, sat at the other end of the room, spoke in a solemn voice. She wasn't sure what to say to Miraelle, but she knew she had to say something. The silence was deafening. Miraelle. Few words left her. Her eyes were, for once, flickering yellow, rather than the usual default green, or angry red. She was worried. Concerned for Miraelle's wellbeing. In Miraelle's opinion, it was weird for Pharasmath to suddenly care about her. As soon as Pharasmath all but spoke her name, Miraelle's face scrunched up, and tears filled her eyes. "You... you did this. This is your fault!" Her words were choked. "You flew into Thread. And YOU'RE gonna be fine from this, but I'm not! I'm- I'm- I'm gonna be like this FOREVER. All you've ever done is ruin my life. I hate you!"

The dragon did not raise her voice. Miraelle. These are the risks of being a dragonrider. It is harsh to say, but you must understand- "Understand?!" Her voice was harsh, as she yelled at her dragon, straining. "Understand what? That I'm doomed? Because of you? That you've always been out to make me fail? That you've never wanted to give me anything? That you don't care about me?! That I'm forever stuck in a bond where I-"
ENOUGH. Pharasmath's eyes flashed red in pure fury, as she stood, and glared at her rider. I have cared about you since day one. You are the one who's treated ME like shards because I'm not a gold. You are the one who's taking your anger out on a literal child just because she IS gold and you think she's going to take away your power. You have been so obsessed with having power, throughout your whole life, and when I've called you out on it, you play the victim. You have been so deep in your own spiral of making yourself the victim that you've been blind to everything. While you were in that bed, I'd actually thought you'd started to get better. I thought you'd actually learnt humility. Her voice sounded equally strained as she yelled. Miraelle quietly sobbed, listening to her. Her dragon was right. She was obsessed with power.

A few moments passed in silence. The dragon tilted her head towards the rider. ...Sorry. For yelling. Especially when you are still sustaining injuries. Miraelle looked up at her, eyes still red. "No, you're... you're right. I only ever wanted power. I shouldn't have been so reckless... I shouldn't have... It's not your fault I got hurt. You've only been trying to help. I'm... sorry."

The dragon got up, eyes reverting to green. She walked over to her rider, lowering herself, and holding her under her wing. Miraelle, in turn, rested her head against her dragon. For the first time ever.

Perhaps, after all this time, they would finally meet ends.
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memerina
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Mon Dec 28, 2020 7:40 am

Time and Space
Cyr'a of Green Equinoth ~ Late Winter 2762


TW: violence, eye trauma

Many candidates had positioned themselves on the Istan stands in anticipation for these eggs to hatch. A handful of eggs for a multitude of candidates; obviously there would be people left standing. After many years of standing, Cyranna hoped she wasn't going to be one of them. Aging out wasn't something she wanted for herself, nor did she want it for Maze - her friend, and fellow candidate. Someone she'd met through candidacy and just clicked with. She hoped that both herself and Maze would impress, and they'd be able to continue their friendship.

Soon enough, after a few impressions, one of the medium-sized eggs hatched. A beautiful Garnet came forth. One of the most beautiful garnets to ever grace Pern, in Cyranna's opinion - she was a deep purple all over, speckled with galactic patterns. She was stunning. Many of the candidates, and people in the stands, too, looked at her with awe. The garnet eventually made her way over to Maze. "Congratulations! She's beautiful!" Cyranna couldn't help but to congratulate her friend, who soon went off to feed her Temporaeth.

The next egg to start to split, the Starlit Evening egg - a small, unassuming egg which was fairly overlooked at the Touching. However, Cyranna remembered that when she specifically touched it, it gave off hints of spite and jealousy. Whatever was in that egg, it felt like it wasn't to be forsked with. As it split, a green popped out - a rich, dark green all over, with darker stripes, and bright stars on her wings. She was somewhat oddly shaped, being all leg and not much in terms of length. Not much fanfare was given for her. Mumbles of "what's wrong with her legs?" and "the last one was prettier" and "oh, a green... who cares?" passed through the crowd.

The little green had something to prove.

She waltzed up to the nearest candidate - a very young one at that, they must've been around 15 turns old - and tackled them, slashing them in the eye. She was just as strong as any other dragon. She wasn't some pathetic, forgettable, useless dragon. As Cyranna noticed was happening, she called out. "Calm down, Equinoth! Stop that!"

...Equinoth?

Who was- oh no.

The little green looked up at Cyranna, eyes swirling with rainbows. I know Temporaeth is prettier than me, but, but... I'm yours now, right?! We're together now, right?! She didn't know what to say. Or do. This green had just hurt someone... and she seemed very jealous of Temporaeth. Maze's dragon. Equinoth walked over to Cyranna - or, Cyr'a, as she was now - and softened herself somewhat. Cyr'a picked her up, letting the dragon nuzzle against her. "Why did you attack that candidate?"
I- I- they were all looking at me like I was nothing... She'd bonded to a violent, jealous dragon; yet, she would still love her. They would have to adapt to each other, especially if she were to continue her friendship with Maze. "Listen, let's... just get you some food, yeah?"
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Wed Dec 30, 2020 8:26 am

No Longer Alone
Dirys of Green Bremirth ~ Early Winter 2768


The sun started to set over the Igen sands as the first egg cracked. Dirys, after many turns of not impressing, started to grow jaded. He was starting to accept that there was a high possibility that he'd never impress at all. "Huh, you've been here a long time. Maybe one of these lil' bastards will finally be yours." Another candidate spoke, recognising that Dirys had been now trying to meet his match for eight long turns. With a mostly neutral expression, he turned back to the other candidate. Someone much younger than him. "Yes, well, I refuse to let feelings get the best of me. If I age out, it is the will of the world." He shrugged. "Or perhaps a wher would be fitting." Though he couldn't admit it, he really didn't want to be alone. He hoped that in his final two turns of being a dragon candidate, one would become his partner. Soon enough, a blue hatched, and made its way over to the other candidate. "Oop, gotta go." He walked off with the blue hatchling, trying not to let it phase him. He'd been here so long that he was used to this.

More and more eggs cracked, and more candidates left the sands with their new friends. As the shell of the Seafoam Explorer started to crack, Dirys only spared it as much as a glance. He was convinced that none of these dragons were his, as the past had shown many a time. The egg wobbled about, before a little green snout poked through. Soon enough, a little green tumbled out and rolled around. She was tiny, and thoroughly adorable, inciting many awwws from the crowd. Distracted as she was, it took her five minutes of looking around the sands, taking in her surroundings... without picking a candidate. Dirys turned around, wondering what the little hatchling was doing. She disappeared into the crowd. Another one that passed him by.

Some time passed, and Dirys felt something small nuzzling at his leg. He looked down, to see the little green from before. She was just curious, surely. The dragonet looked up at him, eyes swirling with rainbows. Hi! Dirys heard a voice in his mind. Had... this green chosen him? Surely not, surely after eight turns no dragon would... no. No way. Especially not a dragon that was as pure and innocent as Bremirth. He blinked at the green dragonet at his feet, tears starting to trickle down his face. "You... you..."
Oh no! Why are you crying? Don't cry! I love you. She rubbed against his leg, and he instinctively bent down to pick her up. His dragon. His Bremirth. I promise you won't be alone anymore.

That did it for him. He was sobbing into his dragon's hide. In front of all these people. No, he didn't care if he looked stupid. He'd waited eight turns for this.

Every time he looked at Bremirth, it became apparent that the wait was worth it.
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