Table of Contents
1: A "Lady" and Her Grackle - Candidate Eloise - Fort Weyr - Late Fall 2772
2: What Would I Be Without You? - Adelais of Garnet Katzenjath - Fort Weyr - Early Spring 2773
3: A Moonlit Melody - P'tyr of Blue Inikoth - Fort Weyr - Early Spring 2773
4: The Five Stages of Grief - Part I: Denial - Rhaadys of Garnet Dysk - Fort Weyr - Early Spring 2773
5: The Five Stages of Grief - Part II: Anger - Rhaadys of Garnet Dysk - Fort Weyr - Late Spring 2773
6: I Miss You, More Than One Could Possibly Know - Candidate Mackenzie - Fort Weyr - Early Summer 2773
7: The Five Stages of Grief - Part III: Bargaining - Rhaadys of Garnet Dysk - Fort Weyr - Early Summer 2773
8: The Five Stages of Grief - Part IV: Depression - Rhaadys of Garnet Dysk - Fort Weyr - Late Summer 2773
9: To Climb the Ladder - P'tyr of Blue Inikoth - Fort Weyr - Early Autumn 2773
10: A Matter of Time - Dorian of Green Meguyakuth - Fort Weyr - Early Summer 2776
11: The Five Stages of Grief - Part V: Acceptance - Rhaadys of Garnet Dysk - Fort Weyr - Early Summer 2776 (coming soon!)
The Peacekeepers Age
Questions? Interested in OOC chat? Click here to come join us on Discord!
Agenothree's Atrocities
12 posts
• Page 1 of 1
-
Agenothree - Peacekeeper
- Posts: 1400
- Joined: Tue Apr 27, 2021 10:04 pm
Agenothree's Atrocities
Last edited by Agenothree on Sat Jul 06, 2024 2:45 am, edited 23 times in total.
TRACKER ~ SHORTS
-
Agenothree - Peacekeeper
- Posts: 1400
- Joined: Tue Apr 27, 2021 10:04 pm
A "Lady" and Her GrackleRoads and Skies Around the Weyr
Eloise found herself venturing from her quarters during what precious free time she had, drawn out by word of a trader stopping in Fort Weyr. Seeing as there hadn't been an appearance of a trader in recent history for her, Eloise decided she ought to see if there were goods available that appealed to her. What few clothes she'd taken along from home, excluding her Gather dresses, wouldn't last Weyr life and its demands much longer; she would be in need of sturdier trapping to wear as she went about her newfound duties.
Eloise ran her fingers along a pair of breeches and a good skirt, mentally tallying what marks she'd allotted to her spending budget. What could she buy? What did she need? What would be useful and what would be indulgences? A loud squawk startled her from her thought, drawing her focus to a large iridescent bird in a cage, sitting on a stand by itself. Ruffling his feathers, he squawked again, bobbing its head up and down. Giving a soft huff of amusement, Eloise wandered closer, affecting detachment.
Though he eyed her as she approached, he cawed at her a third time, continuing to bob his head up and down in some odd little dance. Eloise couldn't help but chuckle, intrigued as she continued to observe his antics. There were no birds she could recall seeing quite like one before her now, an experience a Holder's life hadn't given her, but a new facet of life to explore. "Hello there," Eloise gently greeted him, her voice oddly gentle. In response, he mimicked her drawl of "o" in her "hello," burbling it low in his throat.
Eloise laughed at his greeting her in return; she was thoroughly charmed and shameless to admit it. There were countless Holders she could think of that would likely be horrified to see her, a refined young lady of good breeding accompanied by such a plain bird on her arm. Well, she wasn't known for breaking established norms for nothing. "How much for such a darling creature?" Eloise asked his master; she'd like him for her companion, finding him to be quite an entertaining and pleasing animal, not to mention well-trained, judging by his agreeability.
Ultimately, Eloise walked away victorious; she had him, his cage, everything he could ever need and want, and not a mark to spare. Those clothes from home would do for now; she could wear rags for all she cared. Clothes were easy enough to replace and she'd long since reserved her favorite outfits for special occasions; Eloise had what she wanted here in her hands.
Eloise found herself venturing from her quarters during what precious free time she had, drawn out by word of a trader stopping in Fort Weyr. Seeing as there hadn't been an appearance of a trader in recent history for her, Eloise decided she ought to see if there were goods available that appealed to her. What few clothes she'd taken along from home, excluding her Gather dresses, wouldn't last Weyr life and its demands much longer; she would be in need of sturdier trapping to wear as she went about her newfound duties.
Eloise ran her fingers along a pair of breeches and a good skirt, mentally tallying what marks she'd allotted to her spending budget. What could she buy? What did she need? What would be useful and what would be indulgences? A loud squawk startled her from her thought, drawing her focus to a large iridescent bird in a cage, sitting on a stand by itself. Ruffling his feathers, he squawked again, bobbing its head up and down. Giving a soft huff of amusement, Eloise wandered closer, affecting detachment.
Though he eyed her as she approached, he cawed at her a third time, continuing to bob his head up and down in some odd little dance. Eloise couldn't help but chuckle, intrigued as she continued to observe his antics. There were no birds she could recall seeing quite like one before her now, an experience a Holder's life hadn't given her, but a new facet of life to explore. "Hello there," Eloise gently greeted him, her voice oddly gentle. In response, he mimicked her drawl of "o" in her "hello," burbling it low in his throat.
Eloise laughed at his greeting her in return; she was thoroughly charmed and shameless to admit it. There were countless Holders she could think of that would likely be horrified to see her, a refined young lady of good breeding accompanied by such a plain bird on her arm. Well, she wasn't known for breaking established norms for nothing. "How much for such a darling creature?" Eloise asked his master; she'd like him for her companion, finding him to be quite an entertaining and pleasing animal, not to mention well-trained, judging by his agreeability.
Ultimately, Eloise walked away victorious; she had him, his cage, everything he could ever need and want, and not a mark to spare. Those clothes from home would do for now; she could wear rags for all she cared. Clothes were easy enough to replace and she'd long since reserved her favorite outfits for special occasions; Eloise had what she wanted here in her hands.
Last edited by Agenothree on Sun Sep 15, 2024 7:56 pm, edited 2 times in total.
TRACKER ~ SHORTS
-
Agenothree - Peacekeeper
- Posts: 1400
- Joined: Tue Apr 27, 2021 10:04 pm
What Would I Be Without You?Weyrling Barracks
TW: mentions of illness and death/loss
Adelais sat in his favorite seat in his quarters, a blanket draped across his shoulders, tucked cozily among his cushions, a scroll in hand. But its parchment was as blank as it was days ago, untouched by a charcoal stick held loosely in Adelais' other hand. A small frown creased his brow, persistent and unwavering. Since Katzenjath's emergence from her egg and subsequent Impression to him, he'd produced multiple works of both musical and poetic nature, all inspired by her grace...but now it seemed his font of creativity has run dry... How annoying! Huffing quietly, he scowled at such an innocent slip of paper in his hands, as though it offended them on a personal level for being blank; to be left as wordless as Adelais himself was, which had him rather vexed.
Adelais turned his focus to Katzenjath herself, his view unobstructed to where she drowsed on her couch, content after a good feed and thorough oiling; she was healthy and happy, nearing her full size. It wouldn't be long now until she was an adult dragon, where they would graduate from weyrlinghood a fully-fledged wingrider. An unguarded smile crossed Adelais' face as they reflected on...well, everything! Katzenjath had so much in common in Adelais. Both were confident and adventurous, seeking something more than themselves in life, though it was much harder to parse as much in Adelais than in Katzenjath. Katzenjath was so...open; there was an aura to her that was almost impossible to miss. Wherever she went, Adelais thought it made everyone's world a little brighter.
Katzenjath had certainly made Adelais' world brighter. Ever since she'd chosen him of all Candidates available to her, he'd been happier than he ever remembered being. Last time he'd ever felt so content...had been in his mother's company, before her health broke and illness took her from him. Though a wave of sadness washed through him at recalling her, it was a bittersweet feeling. Tears welled in his eyes, which he hastily swept from his eyes, rather than let them fall. Adelais? Katzenjath murmured blearily, stirring from her rest in response to her bonded's emotional change. It's nothing, my darling Kat, Adelais soothed her softly. I'm sorry to've disturbed you. It's nothing but a small case of blocked muse for my work. It's but a minor inconvenience, really. Return to your rest. Katzenjath hummed endearment for them before she did as she was bid and relaxed into a light doze again.
Adelais' contemplations didn't halt at Katzenjath's near awakening. In fact, once she'd settled to sleep again, his thoughts kicked into overdrive. Adelais' mind turned to what he'd been after his mother passed. Putting his flair for dramatics and his talent for performance toward being a Harper, he'd formally trained at Fort's Harperhall. But he'd gone nowhere except to his Master's office for "troublesome behavior" on more occasions than he could count. It seemed that graduating to Journeyman was a hopeless endeavor, doomed to ever be an Apprentice. It was Kreta and her blue Eseath that changed his life, retrieving his lost hat that blustery winter day and declaring Search. Life at Fort Weyr was a whirlwind of change, being a Candidate and preparing to Stand and Impress. What luck he'd had, to be selected at his very first Hatching, to an amazing and beautiful garnet that gave him such a brighter future.
There. Adelais had what he wanted to write.
Pencil poised, Adelais carefully wrote across a title to his work, handwriting flowing and graceful: "What Would I Be Without You?" From there, it was easy to scribble his scroll full of words to a heartfelt poem, centered not on how amazing Katzenjath was to an observing world, but how wonderful Adelais found her to be; how she'd made his life eternally better by choosing him to be hers.
TW: mentions of illness and death/loss
Adelais sat in his favorite seat in his quarters, a blanket draped across his shoulders, tucked cozily among his cushions, a scroll in hand. But its parchment was as blank as it was days ago, untouched by a charcoal stick held loosely in Adelais' other hand. A small frown creased his brow, persistent and unwavering. Since Katzenjath's emergence from her egg and subsequent Impression to him, he'd produced multiple works of both musical and poetic nature, all inspired by her grace...but now it seemed his font of creativity has run dry... How annoying! Huffing quietly, he scowled at such an innocent slip of paper in his hands, as though it offended them on a personal level for being blank; to be left as wordless as Adelais himself was, which had him rather vexed.
Adelais turned his focus to Katzenjath herself, his view unobstructed to where she drowsed on her couch, content after a good feed and thorough oiling; she was healthy and happy, nearing her full size. It wouldn't be long now until she was an adult dragon, where they would graduate from weyrlinghood a fully-fledged wingrider. An unguarded smile crossed Adelais' face as they reflected on...well, everything! Katzenjath had so much in common in Adelais. Both were confident and adventurous, seeking something more than themselves in life, though it was much harder to parse as much in Adelais than in Katzenjath. Katzenjath was so...open; there was an aura to her that was almost impossible to miss. Wherever she went, Adelais thought it made everyone's world a little brighter.
Katzenjath had certainly made Adelais' world brighter. Ever since she'd chosen him of all Candidates available to her, he'd been happier than he ever remembered being. Last time he'd ever felt so content...had been in his mother's company, before her health broke and illness took her from him. Though a wave of sadness washed through him at recalling her, it was a bittersweet feeling. Tears welled in his eyes, which he hastily swept from his eyes, rather than let them fall. Adelais? Katzenjath murmured blearily, stirring from her rest in response to her bonded's emotional change. It's nothing, my darling Kat, Adelais soothed her softly. I'm sorry to've disturbed you. It's nothing but a small case of blocked muse for my work. It's but a minor inconvenience, really. Return to your rest. Katzenjath hummed endearment for them before she did as she was bid and relaxed into a light doze again.
Adelais' contemplations didn't halt at Katzenjath's near awakening. In fact, once she'd settled to sleep again, his thoughts kicked into overdrive. Adelais' mind turned to what he'd been after his mother passed. Putting his flair for dramatics and his talent for performance toward being a Harper, he'd formally trained at Fort's Harperhall. But he'd gone nowhere except to his Master's office for "troublesome behavior" on more occasions than he could count. It seemed that graduating to Journeyman was a hopeless endeavor, doomed to ever be an Apprentice. It was Kreta and her blue Eseath that changed his life, retrieving his lost hat that blustery winter day and declaring Search. Life at Fort Weyr was a whirlwind of change, being a Candidate and preparing to Stand and Impress. What luck he'd had, to be selected at his very first Hatching, to an amazing and beautiful garnet that gave him such a brighter future.
There. Adelais had what he wanted to write.
Pencil poised, Adelais carefully wrote across a title to his work, handwriting flowing and graceful: "What Would I Be Without You?" From there, it was easy to scribble his scroll full of words to a heartfelt poem, centered not on how amazing Katzenjath was to an observing world, but how wonderful Adelais found her to be; how she'd made his life eternally better by choosing him to be hers.
Last edited by Agenothree on Sun Jun 23, 2024 9:28 pm, edited 5 times in total.
TRACKER ~ SHORTS
-
Agenothree - Peacekeeper
- Posts: 1400
- Joined: Tue Apr 27, 2021 10:04 pm
A Moonlit Melody; Just For Us; To Dance Amongst the StarsRoads and Skies Around the Weyr
The moon hung like a lantern in the sky, shedding its dim light over Fort Weyr. A bluerider stood at the entrance to his weyr, looking up at the ivory sphere above. A soft sigh escaped P'tyr, the only outward hint of his longing. What did he long for? To touch the sky where no-one could see. To distance himself from the necessities of Weyr-life, if but for the briefest of moments. To be alone with his blue and their thoughts. An odd thing for a rider to desire, he had to admit, but there was quite the difference between flying against Thread or performing other such duties expected of riders and flying...just for the sake of flying; to feel the wind kiss his skin and ruffle his hair. Would that be such a hardship to ask for; a moment's peace? P'tyr thought not.
Inikoth himself rumbled from his couch before rising, stretching languidly. As the blue padded to the weyr's mouth, P'tyr turned his gaze from the moon Timor to his bonded. The faint glimmer in the rider's eyes showed just how deeply the affection he felt for his blue ran within him; he had no need of words or even a smile to express it. You feel confined once more, mine? Inikoth asked simply of his rider. You could put it that way, I suppose, came the rider's reply. We shall fly, then. The blue strode onto his ledge completely now, lifting his head high to catch the scents of spring, responding with a pleased rumble before ducking to allow his rider an easy time of mounting him. P'tyr merely smiled as he leapt to Inikoth's neck with a practiced leap, securing himself deftly even as Inikoth loped to the edge and dove into a steep dive, extending his wings and letting the warm breeze fill his wingsails.
Inikoth soon soared to the highest level that would prove comfortable to both man and dragon, leveling into an easy glide. The night sky proved itself to be Inikoth's brethren and kin, the darkness of skies at midnight and the dark denim of the blue's hide melding as one. The only sign that the blue passed were the pale circles of ice tracing Inikoth's lean body. Even then, the clouds lended itself to their camouflage. It seemed as though Inikoth were not born of dragons, but of the night sky itself. It felt like it as well, in moments like these. And even if the sturdy riding straps weren't present to hold P'tyr secure to Inikoth, he felt perfectly secure in his place astride his bonded. Breathing deeply, P'tyr extended his arms into the cool air as Inikoth banked into a gentle curve, wings cutting through the stillness of the clouds.
Moments like these...it brought a sense of peace to both man and dragon. Away from the Weyr and all her occupants; away from the demands of their lives as a fully-fledged and experienced bluepair. Moments like these found P'tyr letting his guard down, albeit briefly. It saw Inikoth relaxing from his never ceasing vigilance from threats to himself and his P'tyr. Nights like these...it seemed as though the moon and stars sang to them, weaving a melody for them to dance to, Inikoth's wings adding a gentle cirrus to the harmony and stillness of the night. The wind rippled through the bluerider's long and billowing sleeves, setting a percussive beat to the song they danced to.
In moments like these...there was nothing more P'tyr could ever want.
The moon hung like a lantern in the sky, shedding its dim light over Fort Weyr. A bluerider stood at the entrance to his weyr, looking up at the ivory sphere above. A soft sigh escaped P'tyr, the only outward hint of his longing. What did he long for? To touch the sky where no-one could see. To distance himself from the necessities of Weyr-life, if but for the briefest of moments. To be alone with his blue and their thoughts. An odd thing for a rider to desire, he had to admit, but there was quite the difference between flying against Thread or performing other such duties expected of riders and flying...just for the sake of flying; to feel the wind kiss his skin and ruffle his hair. Would that be such a hardship to ask for; a moment's peace? P'tyr thought not.
Inikoth himself rumbled from his couch before rising, stretching languidly. As the blue padded to the weyr's mouth, P'tyr turned his gaze from the moon Timor to his bonded. The faint glimmer in the rider's eyes showed just how deeply the affection he felt for his blue ran within him; he had no need of words or even a smile to express it. You feel confined once more, mine? Inikoth asked simply of his rider. You could put it that way, I suppose, came the rider's reply. We shall fly, then. The blue strode onto his ledge completely now, lifting his head high to catch the scents of spring, responding with a pleased rumble before ducking to allow his rider an easy time of mounting him. P'tyr merely smiled as he leapt to Inikoth's neck with a practiced leap, securing himself deftly even as Inikoth loped to the edge and dove into a steep dive, extending his wings and letting the warm breeze fill his wingsails.
Inikoth soon soared to the highest level that would prove comfortable to both man and dragon, leveling into an easy glide. The night sky proved itself to be Inikoth's brethren and kin, the darkness of skies at midnight and the dark denim of the blue's hide melding as one. The only sign that the blue passed were the pale circles of ice tracing Inikoth's lean body. Even then, the clouds lended itself to their camouflage. It seemed as though Inikoth were not born of dragons, but of the night sky itself. It felt like it as well, in moments like these. And even if the sturdy riding straps weren't present to hold P'tyr secure to Inikoth, he felt perfectly secure in his place astride his bonded. Breathing deeply, P'tyr extended his arms into the cool air as Inikoth banked into a gentle curve, wings cutting through the stillness of the clouds.
Moments like these...it brought a sense of peace to both man and dragon. Away from the Weyr and all her occupants; away from the demands of their lives as a fully-fledged and experienced bluepair. Moments like these found P'tyr letting his guard down, albeit briefly. It saw Inikoth relaxing from his never ceasing vigilance from threats to himself and his P'tyr. Nights like these...it seemed as though the moon and stars sang to them, weaving a melody for them to dance to, Inikoth's wings adding a gentle cirrus to the harmony and stillness of the night. The wind rippled through the bluerider's long and billowing sleeves, setting a percussive beat to the song they danced to.
In moments like these...there was nothing more P'tyr could ever want.
TRACKER ~ SHORTS
-
Agenothree - Peacekeeper
- Posts: 1400
- Joined: Tue Apr 27, 2021 10:04 pm
The Five Stages of Grief - Part I: DenialWherhandler Barracks
Rhaadys stumbled into his quarters like a man blindly drunk after a night of revelry, head still spinning from...everything. The door was shut with a firm hand, palm pressed against the unyielding wood...and only then, in the private sanctuary of his quarters, did he left his hands begin to shake. It only spread from there, until his entire body trembled. Emotions ran wild through his mind, leaving him reeling. It left his body hot and cold all at once, sweat beading his brow as his muscles ached with the chill. The wherhandler's stomach churned with nausea at his unrest, yet he felt so full of energy like the boldest of warriors. Rhaadys' mind was no better. In fact, it seemed worse in his mind. Thoughts ran faster than a dragon could dive, completely aimless. One thought was gone before he could follow it down its trail, to be replaced by five more thoughts in its stead. It was...a cacophony of unnerving sensations, to say the least. Rhaadys had never felt so intensely in his life...but he'd never had reason to before.
Tonight had changed his life forever. Just not for the better.
Rhaenys - sister and rider of the white Cosmiath - had borne to him news that had completely changed all he'd known about life as a member of the Weyr - any Weyr! The age limit for Candidacy had been raised. Those who had once had no hope to Impress or were on the edge of aging out now had another chance to emerge successful. Now...Candidates could Stand to the age of 30. It struck Rhaadys like a bolt of lightning, tickling down his spine like the coldest of caresses, bringing him to shudder anew. Had I not left the Weyr to walk with the caravan and bonded to Dysk so hastily after...I could still Stand to this day... I...I could've Stood at this Hatching. I...could have Impressed to a dragon! Rhaadys deflated into a seat and hid his face in his hands, a trembling breath escaping his lungs, despite the heavy feeling crushing his chest.
It was here that Dysk padded carefully into their shared quarters, eyes like embers burning in the darkness of the den, the only light shed by the single glow on the nearby table to allow Rhaadys and human visitors - as rare as they were, with Rhaady's temperament - sight. The garnet settled nearby and simply observed her handler in contemplative silence. After scouring the halls to ensure he was not there, she returned to their quarters, only to find the man there...so lost. The Hatching may have been over...but its aftermath had yet to come, at least for this garnethandler. Rhaadys' mind was in turmoil. It worried Dysk deeply. Never had she seen her handler so disturbed before...but she had expected this reaction all the same. While she herself had not known of this change to the ages of Candidates, Dysk knew Rhaadys on such a deep and personal level to find his current state perfectly normal for him... But that didn't stop her from worrying and fretting over him.
Rhaadys? Dysk gently murmured, beseeching him to give him his attention, if only for a moment. "It's impossible..." Rhaadys muttered under his breath, shaking his head in refusal. What impossible? Dysk carefully probed. "All of this..." came the soft reply. "There is absolutely no way that the Weyr would raise the Candidate age limit!" The wherhandler heaved from his chair and paced around his quarters, running his hands through his hair, distraught. "Rhaenys... Yes, Rhaenys! She has to be lying to me! That venomous serpent of a woman!" Rhaadys be a fool! Dysk cried. Rhaenys not serpent of any kind! Rhaenys dragonrider. Rhaenys honorable. Rhaenys family. "What other explanation is there?!" Rhaadys' voice was rather shrill in his emotional outburst, so much so that Dysk fell silent. Never had she seen her handler fall apart so much in the Turn or so of their life together. Rhaadys merely stood and stared at Dysk, gaze bitterly firm. The pair simply gazed at each other in silence for some time, regarding each other...until Dysk spoke up and broke the chilly silence between them.
Rhaenys...not lie. Weyrs learn, change follows. Candidacy age raised all over; not just Fort. Dysk...not know much about change Weyrs make. Dysk padded closer to her handler, gazing up to Rhaadys with gentle eyes before resting her head against his side, the action suffused with fondness. But Dysk know change make Rhaadys upset. Dysk here to help. Always at Rhaadys' side. Rhaadys turned his gaze down to the garnet tucked up against him, his eyes growing hard and utterly cold. Scoffing, Rhaadys deliberately strode away, leaving Dysk to watch him go with a sad sigh. As the handler stretched out over his cot, the garnet herself murmured, trying to mask the potential hurt her words might inflict with a gentle tone. Dysk know Rhaadys wanted to be dragonrider. Dreamed of since youngling. But Rhaadys chose to accept invitation to Dysk's hatching. Dysk not dragon. Dysk wher.
Silence was her hard-won answer. Dysk merely sighed once more before plodding to her hollow and settling down to rest. The night was young, but her handler needed her here, now. Duties had to be attended eventually...but for now, Dysk was resigned to let her handler sulk and brood over the events of the evening. Rhaadys needed this time to himself. As Dysk gave a low hum toward her handler - only to receive further silence - she felt that this was merely the first of many struggles Rhaadys must overcome...but Dysk would be there at his side, for every obstacle they would have to navigate.
Rhaadys stumbled into his quarters like a man blindly drunk after a night of revelry, head still spinning from...everything. The door was shut with a firm hand, palm pressed against the unyielding wood...and only then, in the private sanctuary of his quarters, did he left his hands begin to shake. It only spread from there, until his entire body trembled. Emotions ran wild through his mind, leaving him reeling. It left his body hot and cold all at once, sweat beading his brow as his muscles ached with the chill. The wherhandler's stomach churned with nausea at his unrest, yet he felt so full of energy like the boldest of warriors. Rhaadys' mind was no better. In fact, it seemed worse in his mind. Thoughts ran faster than a dragon could dive, completely aimless. One thought was gone before he could follow it down its trail, to be replaced by five more thoughts in its stead. It was...a cacophony of unnerving sensations, to say the least. Rhaadys had never felt so intensely in his life...but he'd never had reason to before.
Tonight had changed his life forever. Just not for the better.
Rhaenys - sister and rider of the white Cosmiath - had borne to him news that had completely changed all he'd known about life as a member of the Weyr - any Weyr! The age limit for Candidacy had been raised. Those who had once had no hope to Impress or were on the edge of aging out now had another chance to emerge successful. Now...Candidates could Stand to the age of 30. It struck Rhaadys like a bolt of lightning, tickling down his spine like the coldest of caresses, bringing him to shudder anew. Had I not left the Weyr to walk with the caravan and bonded to Dysk so hastily after...I could still Stand to this day... I...I could've Stood at this Hatching. I...could have Impressed to a dragon! Rhaadys deflated into a seat and hid his face in his hands, a trembling breath escaping his lungs, despite the heavy feeling crushing his chest.
It was here that Dysk padded carefully into their shared quarters, eyes like embers burning in the darkness of the den, the only light shed by the single glow on the nearby table to allow Rhaadys and human visitors - as rare as they were, with Rhaady's temperament - sight. The garnet settled nearby and simply observed her handler in contemplative silence. After scouring the halls to ensure he was not there, she returned to their quarters, only to find the man there...so lost. The Hatching may have been over...but its aftermath had yet to come, at least for this garnethandler. Rhaadys' mind was in turmoil. It worried Dysk deeply. Never had she seen her handler so disturbed before...but she had expected this reaction all the same. While she herself had not known of this change to the ages of Candidates, Dysk knew Rhaadys on such a deep and personal level to find his current state perfectly normal for him... But that didn't stop her from worrying and fretting over him.
Rhaadys? Dysk gently murmured, beseeching him to give him his attention, if only for a moment. "It's impossible..." Rhaadys muttered under his breath, shaking his head in refusal. What impossible? Dysk carefully probed. "All of this..." came the soft reply. "There is absolutely no way that the Weyr would raise the Candidate age limit!" The wherhandler heaved from his chair and paced around his quarters, running his hands through his hair, distraught. "Rhaenys... Yes, Rhaenys! She has to be lying to me! That venomous serpent of a woman!" Rhaadys be a fool! Dysk cried. Rhaenys not serpent of any kind! Rhaenys dragonrider. Rhaenys honorable. Rhaenys family. "What other explanation is there?!" Rhaadys' voice was rather shrill in his emotional outburst, so much so that Dysk fell silent. Never had she seen her handler fall apart so much in the Turn or so of their life together. Rhaadys merely stood and stared at Dysk, gaze bitterly firm. The pair simply gazed at each other in silence for some time, regarding each other...until Dysk spoke up and broke the chilly silence between them.
Rhaenys...not lie. Weyrs learn, change follows. Candidacy age raised all over; not just Fort. Dysk...not know much about change Weyrs make. Dysk padded closer to her handler, gazing up to Rhaadys with gentle eyes before resting her head against his side, the action suffused with fondness. But Dysk know change make Rhaadys upset. Dysk here to help. Always at Rhaadys' side. Rhaadys turned his gaze down to the garnet tucked up against him, his eyes growing hard and utterly cold. Scoffing, Rhaadys deliberately strode away, leaving Dysk to watch him go with a sad sigh. As the handler stretched out over his cot, the garnet herself murmured, trying to mask the potential hurt her words might inflict with a gentle tone. Dysk know Rhaadys wanted to be dragonrider. Dreamed of since youngling. But Rhaadys chose to accept invitation to Dysk's hatching. Dysk not dragon. Dysk wher.
Silence was her hard-won answer. Dysk merely sighed once more before plodding to her hollow and settling down to rest. The night was young, but her handler needed her here, now. Duties had to be attended eventually...but for now, Dysk was resigned to let her handler sulk and brood over the events of the evening. Rhaadys needed this time to himself. As Dysk gave a low hum toward her handler - only to receive further silence - she felt that this was merely the first of many struggles Rhaadys must overcome...but Dysk would be there at his side, for every obstacle they would have to navigate.
TRACKER ~ SHORTS
-
Agenothree - Peacekeeper
- Posts: 1400
- Joined: Tue Apr 27, 2021 10:04 pm
The Five Stages of Grief - Part II: AngerWherhandler Barracks
TW: hurtful words/language (Rhaadys is a douche)
Comfortably settled in her den, Dysk watched her handler pace like a caged spotty, her eyes reflecting her concern. A storm had been brewing for several sevendays since the latest hatching of dragons - the Vessels, as they'd been dubbed - and now it seemed like to burst forth from Rhaadys like a rain that never ended. And it never did end; not truly. A bitterness and pain haunted Rhaadys, coiled like a serpent around his heart, leaving a dark spot within; deep inside, where Rhaadys hadn't allowed Dysk to see, to reach, to mend. Oh, how she wanted to! All Dysk wanted was to help her handler; to face what troubled him and move forward, together. But Rhaadys...never let her in. Would he ever do so? Dysk wished she knew.
There... the garnet thought privately. A subtle shift in Rhaadys' being alerted Dysk to the imminent explosion. Rhaadys had reached his breaking point. That anger and pain and hurt had built to critical levels. Best for the beast to rear its ugly head here, in their quarters, so as to spare any innocents from Rhaadys' wrath. That, and Rhaadys valued his privacy. To lose his temper in front of others, when he was often rather calm and collected, would only worsen the issue. Filled with shame and humiliation after such a public outburst, Rhaadys would hide within himself, and they would get nowhere. Here was better. Dysk could take the brunt of Rhaadys' wrath. It was what she did, even though she was aware that the relationship between them was quite different from others, in a variety of ways. But that's what every bond between dragon and rider, wher and handler was: individually special and unique.
Rhaadys. Dysk's voice was soft as she called to her handler, and she knew when she'd caught his attention when he stopped dead in his tracks. While he did not face her, she knew he listened...for the moment. Tense and trembling minutely was he; not a good sign. Dysk steeled herself, then snorted. This was her handler, not an enemy. Rhaadys, she said firmly. Anger not good to keep inside forever. Turns into something worse: hate. No response. Dysk sighed internally to herself. After all, she was bonded to Rhaadys completely. Rhaadys' bitter, spiteful thoughts swirled at the forefront of his mind, making it quite easy for Dysk to catch. What she sensed hurt...but it wasn't anything she hadn't heard before.
Rhaadys-
"WHAT?!" Rhaadys roared as he whirled to face his garnet, sudden enough to make Dysk almost jump. "Rhaadys, this! Rhaadys that! You never know when to shut it, do you?!" Dysk regarded him in silence. This was worse than she thought. All his anger, buried deep within, had come boiling to the surface with the events of this latest hatching, she surmised. And now it emerged, directed at her. Typical. Dysk here to guide Rhaadys. Dysk can't do that without Dysk's voice. "I don't need guidance! What I need is a proper wher, not some garnet like you!" Ouch, Dysk bit back at him sarcastically, though unable to truly mask how that had stung. Dysk chosen for Rhaadys by Dysk's mother for reason. Rhaadys needed Dysk, not brown or blue clutch-siblings. Rhaadys scoffed and turned away, returning to his pacing.
Dysk wasn't finished.
Heaving to her feet, the garnet sternly spoke to her handler: Dysk feel necessary to remind Rhaadys of fact: Dysk not dragon. Not only is Dysk not dragon, but Dysk not bronze or brown or even blue. Dysk garnet, and Dysk proud. Dysk proud to be Dysk, and proud to be bonded to Rhaadys...even if Rhaadys act like child. "What did you say to me?" Rhaadys hissed caustically. Rhaadys heard Dysk loud and clear, the garnet replied. Here, Dysk's tone softened to something milder; gentler. Rhaadys...misguided. Rhaadys believe in following Tradition. Dysk not object...but Rhaadys must change as times change. Whites of dragons and whers came long before garnets came. Wondrous unique and mysterious chimera too. One thing to follow Tradition. Another to be stubborn, narrow-minded menace. Rhaadys alone, if so. No friends... Sad, no?
"I don't need friends. I don't need anyone! I am a self-sufficient individual of the Weyr!"
Dysk knows Rhaadys mouth petty words to make Rhaadys feel better.
Rhaadys whipped around to face Dysk once again, only to meet her firm, unwavering gaze. They locked eyes with one another; Rhaadys' brown ones narrowed into malicious slits and Dysk's whirling softly in many colors, indicating her many emotions. "I don't need you," Rhaadys spat softly, though his tone seemed more flat than anything. "I don't need anyone - you especially." Dysk knows, the garnet sighed. "You should've been bronze...or brown." Dysk knows. "Faranth's mercy, say something other than you know!" Rhaadys upset about Candidacy age limit being raised. How this relate to Dysk being garnet and being wher? Rhaadys fell silent, his eyes narrowing further. What? Dysk chuckled at his discontent. Rhaadys ask Dysk to say something else, Dysk provides! Something wrong, Rhaadys darling? "Don't forsking call me that," Rhaadys warned. Or what? Dysk taunted right back. What Rhaadys do?
Rhaadys said nothing, for what could he do? The relationship between himself and Dysk may have been strained - in his eyes, at least - but he'd never do anything to hurt his wher. It went against everything he'd been trained.
Dysk simply sighed. Dysk told Rhaadys before: Rhaadys had no way to know Weyrs change rules of Candidacy. No reason to feel so bitter. Only hurts Rhaadys. Hurts Dysk too... The garnet's subtle entreaty didn't seem to reach Rhaadys, for the man simply turned away from his wher. The trembling began once more, his shoulders tense.
"I should've been a dragonrider!" Rhaadys let out a shrill scream as he lashed out, sending the small table and what lay upon it scattering across their quarters. Rhaadys dropped to his knees among the mess, hands over his face. Dysk padded slowly to his side, tiptoeing amongst the mess. Sitting back on her haunches at his side, she lowered her head to his shoulder and rested her nose against him. It was her way of comforting him. It was refused. Rhaadys nudged her away none-to-gently and rose to his feet, stalking across the room, over the mess, to his cot. With a heavy sigh, he laid down, running his hands through his dark hair.
Dysk looked away. It was clear she'd get nowhere with him. At least now, Rhaadys' anger might not be so violent and explosive, should someone cross him. Dysk knew that Rhaadys had a long way to go...but this was a start. Perhaps behaving in this way was how best to handle Rhaadys; to further temper his bitterness and guide him down an easier path. For now though, Dysk merely nudged the scattered belongings into some semblance of a pile - both to clear up the room a bit and make it easier for Rhaadys to gather up later - before she padded back to her den. The garnet laid down in her warm hollow with a sigh, keeping careful tabs on her handler until she sensed he'd slipped into a restless sleep. Only then did she too allow her weariness to overtake her and carry her into a light doze.
Tomorrow was another day. Rhaadys would soon see that, as Dysk did.
TW: hurtful words/language (Rhaadys is a douche)
Comfortably settled in her den, Dysk watched her handler pace like a caged spotty, her eyes reflecting her concern. A storm had been brewing for several sevendays since the latest hatching of dragons - the Vessels, as they'd been dubbed - and now it seemed like to burst forth from Rhaadys like a rain that never ended. And it never did end; not truly. A bitterness and pain haunted Rhaadys, coiled like a serpent around his heart, leaving a dark spot within; deep inside, where Rhaadys hadn't allowed Dysk to see, to reach, to mend. Oh, how she wanted to! All Dysk wanted was to help her handler; to face what troubled him and move forward, together. But Rhaadys...never let her in. Would he ever do so? Dysk wished she knew.
There... the garnet thought privately. A subtle shift in Rhaadys' being alerted Dysk to the imminent explosion. Rhaadys had reached his breaking point. That anger and pain and hurt had built to critical levels. Best for the beast to rear its ugly head here, in their quarters, so as to spare any innocents from Rhaadys' wrath. That, and Rhaadys valued his privacy. To lose his temper in front of others, when he was often rather calm and collected, would only worsen the issue. Filled with shame and humiliation after such a public outburst, Rhaadys would hide within himself, and they would get nowhere. Here was better. Dysk could take the brunt of Rhaadys' wrath. It was what she did, even though she was aware that the relationship between them was quite different from others, in a variety of ways. But that's what every bond between dragon and rider, wher and handler was: individually special and unique.
Rhaadys. Dysk's voice was soft as she called to her handler, and she knew when she'd caught his attention when he stopped dead in his tracks. While he did not face her, she knew he listened...for the moment. Tense and trembling minutely was he; not a good sign. Dysk steeled herself, then snorted. This was her handler, not an enemy. Rhaadys, she said firmly. Anger not good to keep inside forever. Turns into something worse: hate. No response. Dysk sighed internally to herself. After all, she was bonded to Rhaadys completely. Rhaadys' bitter, spiteful thoughts swirled at the forefront of his mind, making it quite easy for Dysk to catch. What she sensed hurt...but it wasn't anything she hadn't heard before.
Rhaadys-
"WHAT?!" Rhaadys roared as he whirled to face his garnet, sudden enough to make Dysk almost jump. "Rhaadys, this! Rhaadys that! You never know when to shut it, do you?!" Dysk regarded him in silence. This was worse than she thought. All his anger, buried deep within, had come boiling to the surface with the events of this latest hatching, she surmised. And now it emerged, directed at her. Typical. Dysk here to guide Rhaadys. Dysk can't do that without Dysk's voice. "I don't need guidance! What I need is a proper wher, not some garnet like you!" Ouch, Dysk bit back at him sarcastically, though unable to truly mask how that had stung. Dysk chosen for Rhaadys by Dysk's mother for reason. Rhaadys needed Dysk, not brown or blue clutch-siblings. Rhaadys scoffed and turned away, returning to his pacing.
Dysk wasn't finished.
Heaving to her feet, the garnet sternly spoke to her handler: Dysk feel necessary to remind Rhaadys of fact: Dysk not dragon. Not only is Dysk not dragon, but Dysk not bronze or brown or even blue. Dysk garnet, and Dysk proud. Dysk proud to be Dysk, and proud to be bonded to Rhaadys...even if Rhaadys act like child. "What did you say to me?" Rhaadys hissed caustically. Rhaadys heard Dysk loud and clear, the garnet replied. Here, Dysk's tone softened to something milder; gentler. Rhaadys...misguided. Rhaadys believe in following Tradition. Dysk not object...but Rhaadys must change as times change. Whites of dragons and whers came long before garnets came. Wondrous unique and mysterious chimera too. One thing to follow Tradition. Another to be stubborn, narrow-minded menace. Rhaadys alone, if so. No friends... Sad, no?
"I don't need friends. I don't need anyone! I am a self-sufficient individual of the Weyr!"
Dysk knows Rhaadys mouth petty words to make Rhaadys feel better.
Rhaadys whipped around to face Dysk once again, only to meet her firm, unwavering gaze. They locked eyes with one another; Rhaadys' brown ones narrowed into malicious slits and Dysk's whirling softly in many colors, indicating her many emotions. "I don't need you," Rhaadys spat softly, though his tone seemed more flat than anything. "I don't need anyone - you especially." Dysk knows, the garnet sighed. "You should've been bronze...or brown." Dysk knows. "Faranth's mercy, say something other than you know!" Rhaadys upset about Candidacy age limit being raised. How this relate to Dysk being garnet and being wher? Rhaadys fell silent, his eyes narrowing further. What? Dysk chuckled at his discontent. Rhaadys ask Dysk to say something else, Dysk provides! Something wrong, Rhaadys darling? "Don't forsking call me that," Rhaadys warned. Or what? Dysk taunted right back. What Rhaadys do?
Rhaadys said nothing, for what could he do? The relationship between himself and Dysk may have been strained - in his eyes, at least - but he'd never do anything to hurt his wher. It went against everything he'd been trained.
Dysk simply sighed. Dysk told Rhaadys before: Rhaadys had no way to know Weyrs change rules of Candidacy. No reason to feel so bitter. Only hurts Rhaadys. Hurts Dysk too... The garnet's subtle entreaty didn't seem to reach Rhaadys, for the man simply turned away from his wher. The trembling began once more, his shoulders tense.
"I should've been a dragonrider!" Rhaadys let out a shrill scream as he lashed out, sending the small table and what lay upon it scattering across their quarters. Rhaadys dropped to his knees among the mess, hands over his face. Dysk padded slowly to his side, tiptoeing amongst the mess. Sitting back on her haunches at his side, she lowered her head to his shoulder and rested her nose against him. It was her way of comforting him. It was refused. Rhaadys nudged her away none-to-gently and rose to his feet, stalking across the room, over the mess, to his cot. With a heavy sigh, he laid down, running his hands through his dark hair.
Dysk looked away. It was clear she'd get nowhere with him. At least now, Rhaadys' anger might not be so violent and explosive, should someone cross him. Dysk knew that Rhaadys had a long way to go...but this was a start. Perhaps behaving in this way was how best to handle Rhaadys; to further temper his bitterness and guide him down an easier path. For now though, Dysk merely nudged the scattered belongings into some semblance of a pile - both to clear up the room a bit and make it easier for Rhaadys to gather up later - before she padded back to her den. The garnet laid down in her warm hollow with a sigh, keeping careful tabs on her handler until she sensed he'd slipped into a restless sleep. Only then did she too allow her weariness to overtake her and carry her into a light doze.
Tomorrow was another day. Rhaadys would soon see that, as Dysk did.
Last edited by Agenothree on Fri Apr 22, 2022 10:16 am, edited 1 time in total.
TRACKER ~ SHORTS
-
Agenothree - Peacekeeper
- Posts: 1400
- Joined: Tue Apr 27, 2021 10:04 pm
I Miss You, More Than You Could Possibly KnowCandidate Barracks
In the darkness of his quarters sat Mackenzie, alone. Parchment littered the table at which he sat, a leadstick idly held in one hand. It was hard to concentrate anymore. The hatching had come and gone, and garnet Tamisk had deemed Mackenzie...unworthy, in some manner. Garnet Kelsk - on behalf of gold Zansk - had done the same. It was a painful thing; to come to a hatching full of hope, only to walk away disappointed. Yet the last hatching had been such a joyous affair! Even though Mackenzie himself had been passed up, he'd had to privilege to watch his roommate be chosen firsthand! Tamisk had chosen Cassandra for the littlest egg, which contained a brown; Cassask. They were so happy for her! And yet...
Mackenzie turned his attention back to the parchment over the table. Each contained the beginnings of one of the wherlet's Impression; Misun's green tugging playfully at her new handler's sleeve, Zagi's blue tucked against his handler's chest. Yet these other drawings remained undone; hardly touched. Mere blocks and outlines stood for each wher and handler. There was one drawing Mackenzie worked ever so hard on. The whercandidate brought this sketch to the top of his pile. Here, they'd caught Cassandra and Cassask as the pair had left to feed; the tears spilling down Cassandra's face and her beautiful smile coupled to make perhaps the most heartfelt moment Mackenzie had ever seen.
Mackenzie's lip wobbled before tears rolled free and dripped to the paper clutched in his hands. A strangled sound tore its way free of his throat, something akin to a sob. Every time he looked about the room, all he could remember were all the wonderful moments he and Cassandra had shared. Turns spent together, and now they were apart. Cassandra had her wher to tend. Mackenzie had more Candidacy ahead of him. The reminder only served to send another spike of pain lancing through his heart. Cassandra might have only been a small distance away, in another part of the Weyr, but it might as well have been on the other side of the sea. That's how it felt to Mackenzie. They were of different worlds now. Cassandra was a wherling, and Mackenzie a Candidate.
It could be denied no longer: Mackenzie missed Cassandra. The way she'd insist everything be in order, even as Mackenzie agreed. The way she seemed to make their room a tiny bit brighter simply be being there. The way she was always there when he was feeling down, and he there for her. The way she always called him Kenz... Another whimper broke the silence of the dark barrack. What was he to do now? Not only were they passed up to be a wherhandler by Tamisk and Kelsk both, but they were now without one of their closest friends by their side. And it wasn't only Cassandra... Cole and Benedict were wherhandlers too. The only one of his friends that remained a Candidate with him was Miilo, and she'd already expressed the intention to purchase a wher egg. Such an option remained unavailable to Mackenzie.
The question remained, marching through his mind on a loop: what did Mackenzie do now? Yet what could he do but wait? But wait for what? To be passed up by yet another wher mother? The answer, it seemed, was yes.
Mackenzie simply sighed and pushed back from the table, crossing to his cot and curling under the covers, leaving the sketches behind. Trying to concentrate was a lost cause anyway. The tears came slower now, yet they came all the same.
In the darkness of his quarters sat Mackenzie, alone. Parchment littered the table at which he sat, a leadstick idly held in one hand. It was hard to concentrate anymore. The hatching had come and gone, and garnet Tamisk had deemed Mackenzie...unworthy, in some manner. Garnet Kelsk - on behalf of gold Zansk - had done the same. It was a painful thing; to come to a hatching full of hope, only to walk away disappointed. Yet the last hatching had been such a joyous affair! Even though Mackenzie himself had been passed up, he'd had to privilege to watch his roommate be chosen firsthand! Tamisk had chosen Cassandra for the littlest egg, which contained a brown; Cassask. They were so happy for her! And yet...
Mackenzie turned his attention back to the parchment over the table. Each contained the beginnings of one of the wherlet's Impression; Misun's green tugging playfully at her new handler's sleeve, Zagi's blue tucked against his handler's chest. Yet these other drawings remained undone; hardly touched. Mere blocks and outlines stood for each wher and handler. There was one drawing Mackenzie worked ever so hard on. The whercandidate brought this sketch to the top of his pile. Here, they'd caught Cassandra and Cassask as the pair had left to feed; the tears spilling down Cassandra's face and her beautiful smile coupled to make perhaps the most heartfelt moment Mackenzie had ever seen.
Mackenzie's lip wobbled before tears rolled free and dripped to the paper clutched in his hands. A strangled sound tore its way free of his throat, something akin to a sob. Every time he looked about the room, all he could remember were all the wonderful moments he and Cassandra had shared. Turns spent together, and now they were apart. Cassandra had her wher to tend. Mackenzie had more Candidacy ahead of him. The reminder only served to send another spike of pain lancing through his heart. Cassandra might have only been a small distance away, in another part of the Weyr, but it might as well have been on the other side of the sea. That's how it felt to Mackenzie. They were of different worlds now. Cassandra was a wherling, and Mackenzie a Candidate.
It could be denied no longer: Mackenzie missed Cassandra. The way she'd insist everything be in order, even as Mackenzie agreed. The way she seemed to make their room a tiny bit brighter simply be being there. The way she was always there when he was feeling down, and he there for her. The way she always called him Kenz... Another whimper broke the silence of the dark barrack. What was he to do now? Not only were they passed up to be a wherhandler by Tamisk and Kelsk both, but they were now without one of their closest friends by their side. And it wasn't only Cassandra... Cole and Benedict were wherhandlers too. The only one of his friends that remained a Candidate with him was Miilo, and she'd already expressed the intention to purchase a wher egg. Such an option remained unavailable to Mackenzie.
The question remained, marching through his mind on a loop: what did Mackenzie do now? Yet what could he do but wait? But wait for what? To be passed up by yet another wher mother? The answer, it seemed, was yes.
Mackenzie simply sighed and pushed back from the table, crossing to his cot and curling under the covers, leaving the sketches behind. Trying to concentrate was a lost cause anyway. The tears came slower now, yet they came all the same.
TRACKER ~ SHORTS
-
Agenothree - Peacekeeper
- Posts: 1400
- Joined: Tue Apr 27, 2021 10:04 pm
The Five Stages of Grief - Part III: BargainingWherhandler Barracks
Dysk lifted her head from her paws as Rhaadys strode in like a whirlwind, slamming his door behind him loudly. Dysk could sense how agitated Rhaadys was; as though she couldn't see it too, in every erratic movement he made. Sighing as though to say to herself "here we go again," she got to her feet and padded toward him, as Rhaadys sat at his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. Spill beans, Dysk said, her voice curt and gaze cutting. There was no use hiding what was obvious and Dysk was coming short on patience, a shocking concept to consider. Could it be that tolerant Dysk was growing tired of Rhaadys' obnoxious behavior? It had persisted since Serapheth's Vessels had hatched, now well into what would've been a fine spring in Fort.
"I..." What could he say? To speak to what was on his mind would do nothing but cement how weak he was. No one could know how weak Rhaadys felt, especially not Dysk. Rhaadys think too hard. Dysk's voice found a hint of its usual warmth, as though she smiled as she spoke. Dysk feel Rhaadys' headache. Rhaadys bit his tongue to keep a scathing retort behind his teeth, stubbornly clicking his jaw shut. Come now, Dysk teases! Dysk thought Rhaadys know Dysk by now. Rhaadys huffed as he shifted his eyes elsewhere, so as not to look at Dysk. Dysk seemed unwilling to allow Rhaadys to skirt what was on his mind, moving to cross his view. Rhaadys talk to Dysk. Dysk's voice was soft; an entreaty. Dysk there for Rhaadys. Dysk not judge. Dysk help.
Rhaadys resisted a scoff, concern and warmth filling him simultaneously. How could he dare to consider revealing his shortcomings to his garnet? Had he lost his mind? But he caved. Might as well try it once. And if Dysk proved to be a terrible listener, he'd follow his gut and keep everything where it belonged: hidden. "I...I can't stop thinking. What did I do wrong to make all those dragons pass me up on Ista's Sands? Dragon after dragon stopped to look at me. A blue looked into my eyes one day...and I thought I saw a rainbow beginning to press forth...for me. I was so resigned at that point that I would've accepted but a blue." Dysk elected not to comment on Rhaadys' colorism, to keep him talking.
And talk Rhaadys did.
"But that blue moved on too. Every single dragonet... Hundreds of them, it felt like, across ten Turns...and none thought I was worthy..." Rhaadys paused, feeling that tension in his throat that indicated his voice would crack if he went on. Putting his face in his hands, he sighed, hoping to find his composure again before Dysk decided to say something smart. Dysk said nothing. Seeing Rhaadys hadn't said so much in one sitting in all her time as his, she wasn't about to interrupt. Well, he hadn't ever said regarding himself until now. Rhaadys had most certainly said plenty of hurtful things in a short span. For now, Dysk simply nudged her head under his arm, encouraging him to continue. "What if I had done something different, Dysk? What if I had applied myself more to my studies and my training? What if I had done better? If I had been a better Candidate-"
Dysk interrupted. Rhaadys get nowhere by dwelling in past. Future ahead, past behind. Nothing can do to change it. Rhaadys sighed and put his face in his hands again, running his fingers through his hair, a common habit. Dysk hummed in her throat. It was clear that Rhaadys was struggling...but perhaps he needed to flounder for a while. Perhaps Rhaadys needed to struggle, to overcome what kept him focused on things he could do nothing about and move forward. But Rhaadys shook his head, his hardheadedness returning. "Our past is there to learn from," he argued. "By analyzing my mistakes, I can better myself for my future." Dysk might've agreed, if not for how Rhaadys spoke. All he was focused on was bettering himself to shore up his own weaknesses, which he believed where present ever since he had aged out. While a worthy endeavor still, Rhaadys didn't care about bettering himself for others; he would improve for himself and his Weyr, not for those in his life who loved him.
True, Dysk conceded. But not good to keep head in past. Rhaadys get trapped. Dysk padded a little closer and gently rested her head on his knee, expressing a quiet affection. Dysk here for you. Rhaadys' family too. Rhaadys often forget family. Put duty to Weyr before family. Weyr be important, but family support each other in different way. Surprisingly, Rhaadys allowed her show of fondness, though he didn't reciprocate. Dysk was quite used to getting nothing in response to her offerings of devotion, but that Rhaadys didn't immediately shove her away was quite a surprise. It was a sign of progress. Perhaps he might be growing fond of her. That was unlikely, given Rhaadys' strong Traditional outlook, but a garnet could hope. Dysk sighed quietly, but gently added: Rhaadys cannot change past...but can look forward to future. So much await Rhaadys. Every day be new day, Dysk be there every step of way.
After a moment of quiet, Dysk sensed Rhaadys' walls go up again, much to her dismay. So much had been said tonight that Dysk was certain there was something there! Rhaadys opening up to her about what troubled him pleased her to no end, but it seemed that Rhaadys would always be Rhaadys. While Dysk didn't want Rhaadys to cease being Rhaadys, she wanted him to adopt a new perspective, one that would better suit him going forward. But above all, she wanted him to be happy. Rhaadys had always been a troubled man, long before he had bonded her. So much distressed him, but it seemed he'd reached his limit for conversation for one night. Dysk stepped away gracefully as Rhaadys got up, expression shuttered. Though she offered a quiet hum for her handler, she received nothing in response. Questions began clouding Rhaadys' mind again, making him restless.; it was as he said: he couldn't stop thinking about what could've been. Dysk seemed saddened for him as he left his quarters once more. Rhaadys would be heading for Fort's training fields; it was what he always did, those days he couldn't be productive as he wanted, but still wanted to do something. What hurt she might've felt as a result of Rhaadys' continued longing to be a dragonrider was muted.
As sad as it was, Dysk had gotten used to it.
Sighing, Dysk padded to her den and relaxed once more. Rhaadys would return soon, seeing as it was almost time to rest and Rhaadys was a man of strict habit; it wouldn't be long until he would realize as much. Dysk was aware that he wouldn't address her, not in such a state as he was. That left Dysk to rest, though she was ever alert, her eyes like gems in her den's gloom. Though he didn't find in her what comfort he wanted, Dysk would be there for Rhaadys; he would see that, one day. Dysk had hope. Hope for what? Hope that Rhaadys would see her for more than her color and love her for who she was. Hope that Rhaadys might warm up, both to her and those who cared for him. But he kept everyone at arm's length. It was sad...but if Rhaadys didn't welcome her, Dysk would be glad to sit forlorn if that's what it took to see others feel Rhaadys' warmth. One last time, Dysk reached out to him. Dysk here, once Rhaadys return.
No response. What had she expected?
Dysk lifted her head from her paws as Rhaadys strode in like a whirlwind, slamming his door behind him loudly. Dysk could sense how agitated Rhaadys was; as though she couldn't see it too, in every erratic movement he made. Sighing as though to say to herself "here we go again," she got to her feet and padded toward him, as Rhaadys sat at his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. Spill beans, Dysk said, her voice curt and gaze cutting. There was no use hiding what was obvious and Dysk was coming short on patience, a shocking concept to consider. Could it be that tolerant Dysk was growing tired of Rhaadys' obnoxious behavior? It had persisted since Serapheth's Vessels had hatched, now well into what would've been a fine spring in Fort.
"I..." What could he say? To speak to what was on his mind would do nothing but cement how weak he was. No one could know how weak Rhaadys felt, especially not Dysk. Rhaadys think too hard. Dysk's voice found a hint of its usual warmth, as though she smiled as she spoke. Dysk feel Rhaadys' headache. Rhaadys bit his tongue to keep a scathing retort behind his teeth, stubbornly clicking his jaw shut. Come now, Dysk teases! Dysk thought Rhaadys know Dysk by now. Rhaadys huffed as he shifted his eyes elsewhere, so as not to look at Dysk. Dysk seemed unwilling to allow Rhaadys to skirt what was on his mind, moving to cross his view. Rhaadys talk to Dysk. Dysk's voice was soft; an entreaty. Dysk there for Rhaadys. Dysk not judge. Dysk help.
Rhaadys resisted a scoff, concern and warmth filling him simultaneously. How could he dare to consider revealing his shortcomings to his garnet? Had he lost his mind? But he caved. Might as well try it once. And if Dysk proved to be a terrible listener, he'd follow his gut and keep everything where it belonged: hidden. "I...I can't stop thinking. What did I do wrong to make all those dragons pass me up on Ista's Sands? Dragon after dragon stopped to look at me. A blue looked into my eyes one day...and I thought I saw a rainbow beginning to press forth...for me. I was so resigned at that point that I would've accepted but a blue." Dysk elected not to comment on Rhaadys' colorism, to keep him talking.
And talk Rhaadys did.
"But that blue moved on too. Every single dragonet... Hundreds of them, it felt like, across ten Turns...and none thought I was worthy..." Rhaadys paused, feeling that tension in his throat that indicated his voice would crack if he went on. Putting his face in his hands, he sighed, hoping to find his composure again before Dysk decided to say something smart. Dysk said nothing. Seeing Rhaadys hadn't said so much in one sitting in all her time as his, she wasn't about to interrupt. Well, he hadn't ever said regarding himself until now. Rhaadys had most certainly said plenty of hurtful things in a short span. For now, Dysk simply nudged her head under his arm, encouraging him to continue. "What if I had done something different, Dysk? What if I had applied myself more to my studies and my training? What if I had done better? If I had been a better Candidate-"
Dysk interrupted. Rhaadys get nowhere by dwelling in past. Future ahead, past behind. Nothing can do to change it. Rhaadys sighed and put his face in his hands again, running his fingers through his hair, a common habit. Dysk hummed in her throat. It was clear that Rhaadys was struggling...but perhaps he needed to flounder for a while. Perhaps Rhaadys needed to struggle, to overcome what kept him focused on things he could do nothing about and move forward. But Rhaadys shook his head, his hardheadedness returning. "Our past is there to learn from," he argued. "By analyzing my mistakes, I can better myself for my future." Dysk might've agreed, if not for how Rhaadys spoke. All he was focused on was bettering himself to shore up his own weaknesses, which he believed where present ever since he had aged out. While a worthy endeavor still, Rhaadys didn't care about bettering himself for others; he would improve for himself and his Weyr, not for those in his life who loved him.
True, Dysk conceded. But not good to keep head in past. Rhaadys get trapped. Dysk padded a little closer and gently rested her head on his knee, expressing a quiet affection. Dysk here for you. Rhaadys' family too. Rhaadys often forget family. Put duty to Weyr before family. Weyr be important, but family support each other in different way. Surprisingly, Rhaadys allowed her show of fondness, though he didn't reciprocate. Dysk was quite used to getting nothing in response to her offerings of devotion, but that Rhaadys didn't immediately shove her away was quite a surprise. It was a sign of progress. Perhaps he might be growing fond of her. That was unlikely, given Rhaadys' strong Traditional outlook, but a garnet could hope. Dysk sighed quietly, but gently added: Rhaadys cannot change past...but can look forward to future. So much await Rhaadys. Every day be new day, Dysk be there every step of way.
After a moment of quiet, Dysk sensed Rhaadys' walls go up again, much to her dismay. So much had been said tonight that Dysk was certain there was something there! Rhaadys opening up to her about what troubled him pleased her to no end, but it seemed that Rhaadys would always be Rhaadys. While Dysk didn't want Rhaadys to cease being Rhaadys, she wanted him to adopt a new perspective, one that would better suit him going forward. But above all, she wanted him to be happy. Rhaadys had always been a troubled man, long before he had bonded her. So much distressed him, but it seemed he'd reached his limit for conversation for one night. Dysk stepped away gracefully as Rhaadys got up, expression shuttered. Though she offered a quiet hum for her handler, she received nothing in response. Questions began clouding Rhaadys' mind again, making him restless.; it was as he said: he couldn't stop thinking about what could've been. Dysk seemed saddened for him as he left his quarters once more. Rhaadys would be heading for Fort's training fields; it was what he always did, those days he couldn't be productive as he wanted, but still wanted to do something. What hurt she might've felt as a result of Rhaadys' continued longing to be a dragonrider was muted.
As sad as it was, Dysk had gotten used to it.
Sighing, Dysk padded to her den and relaxed once more. Rhaadys would return soon, seeing as it was almost time to rest and Rhaadys was a man of strict habit; it wouldn't be long until he would realize as much. Dysk was aware that he wouldn't address her, not in such a state as he was. That left Dysk to rest, though she was ever alert, her eyes like gems in her den's gloom. Though he didn't find in her what comfort he wanted, Dysk would be there for Rhaadys; he would see that, one day. Dysk had hope. Hope for what? Hope that Rhaadys would see her for more than her color and love her for who she was. Hope that Rhaadys might warm up, both to her and those who cared for him. But he kept everyone at arm's length. It was sad...but if Rhaadys didn't welcome her, Dysk would be glad to sit forlorn if that's what it took to see others feel Rhaadys' warmth. One last time, Dysk reached out to him. Dysk here, once Rhaadys return.
No response. What had she expected?
Last edited by Agenothree on Mon Apr 15, 2024 9:55 pm, edited 1 time in total.
TRACKER ~ SHORTS
-
Agenothree - Peacekeeper
- Posts: 1400
- Joined: Tue Apr 27, 2021 10:04 pm
The Five Stages of Grief - Part IV: DepressionWherhandler Barracks
TW: depressive words/thoughts/feelings
Dysk regarded the still form of Rhaadys where he lay in his bed. It had been some time since he stirred, and she found herself growing concerned for him. More concerned than usual, at least. There was always a part of her that fretted for Rhaadys and his wellbeing, despite his refusal of any and all of her inquires. Had today been a normal day, she'd be entirely unworried, for while Rhaadys was a light sleeper, he almost always slept soundly. But today was not a normal day. A normal day hadn't befallen them in some time. Dusk was upon them, and the beginning of their daily duties with it. Yet Rhaadys had not even minutely stirred, and it was past the time Rhaadys rose to begin the "day." Rhaadys was one to rise early, even before the standard waking hour most wherhandlers kept. It allowed both himself and his garnet time to prepare themselves and reflect before beginning their "day." To find him still abed was most abnormal.
But to find he was awake and still abed was even more alarming.
Rhaadys lay with his back to Dysk and the room as a whole, gazing at the wall, unseeing. The man didn't move a muscle, and his every breath seemed as loud as a dragon's roar in the silence of the room. For perhaps the first time in his life, Rhaadys didn't wish to rise to face the day. What awaited him? Nothing would be different. Rhaadys, proudly born to riders, was doomed to be a wherhandler, not a dragonrider. To be bonded to a garnet was just adding insult to injury; rubbing salt in a lingering wound. If Dysk had been a dragon, perhaps he might bring himself to overlook her bold magenta hide. Rhaadys let his eyes fall shut. Who was he kidding? All garnets, dragon and wher alike, were abnormal mutations, even more so than whites. How Rhaenys could find the strength to go about her day with such pride, bonded as she was to such a mouthy white dragon, remained a mystery to Rhaadys. One could only hope that the Candidate Timon, obnoxious as he was, would Impress to a beast of actual import; to spare their line further humiliation of Impressing abnormal colors.
Rhaadys. Rhaadys couldn't even find it in him to stiffen at Dysk's voice as she called to him. What he did do was say nothing. Dysk didn't seem to expect a response, and simply continued speaking. Time come to rise. Night awaits Rhaadys and Dysk. Again, nothing; the gentle reminder fell on deaf ears. Dysk sighed, the sound revealing her weariness. Duty not important to Rhaadys any-more? Dysk's tone grew sharper, as though challenging Rhaadys to give a response, a twitch; anything! In response, a heavy sigh. Rhaadys make such big deal of duty, it surprises Dysk to not see Rhaadys out door at this time! "What's the point?" Rhaadys snorted. "We get up, work through the night, only to retreat to this den with the coming of dawn and rise the evening next to do it all over again." Duty to Weyr and Pern important, Dysk retorted. Rhaadys says so, very often. If duty not important any-more, Rhaadys need find new mantra to feel better. That elicited a reaction. Rhaadys' shoulders visibly rippled under the blanket with his tension, and the garnet could sense that familiar tug in his jaw as he grit his teeth.
With an action so quick that it seemed a blur, Rhaadys turned to face Dysk and sat upright at the edge of his cot. "What would you have me do, Dysk?" he demanded of her. Dysk said nothing, too focused on how she might comfort her distressed handler. The raw edge in his voice was hard to miss; one of the only signs of tears held at bay. Elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, Rhaadys took a deep breath, and Dysk made no comment on how shaky said breath was. It was hard to catch, but Rhaadys' low mutterings floated to her. "I could've been a dragonrider... If I had just stayed firm in my resolve, news would've reached me about the changes upon my return to the Weyr and I could've presented myself as a Candidate... I could've even Impressed to one of those bronzes of Serapheth's latest clutch, or one of the browns... But I failed... My resolve wavered, and I accepted the invitation to the caravan queen's clutch." Rhaadys' shoulders rippled again, but this time with a totally different tension. Dysk simply sighed and stepped up to him, gently tucking her head in the space between his elbows.
For Rhaadys' sake, she said nothing of the drops of wetness that spotted her hide.
After what seemed an eternity, Dysk broke the silence. Rhaadys...regrets Dysk? The steel in the garnet's voice demanded an answer. It was an answer Rhaadys did not provide, unsurprisingly. But this silence held no clues for Dysk. Most often, his silences were loaded ones...but this silence conveyed mixed messages. Too overwhelmed with pain and grief, Dysk realized that Rhaadys would not be conveying anything sensible for some time. The garnet gently nuzzled her face against Rhaadys'. Dysk forgives Rhaadys, she murmured. For everything. The tears only began anew, and Rhaadys dragged a shaky breath into his lungs. Dysk here for Rhaadys, no matter what. Even if Rhaadys hates Dysk, Dysk stay at Rhaadys' side. Rhaadys and Dysk team, since Dysk's hatching. Rhaadys' upper arm gave a twitch in response. With a whuff of warm air, Dysk stepped back. Rhaadys stay here. Rest. Dysk tell squadleader Rhaadys not feeling well. Alarm flashed in Rhaadys' mind. Dysk wouldn't... Would she? Dysk know to be discreet, she assured him.
With that, the garnet padded out of the quarters she shared with Rhaadys, leaving him to his thoughts. Rhaadys watched her go, only to bury his face in his hands and tremble. Hardly a moment had passed before he realized how deeply alone he felt. Even Dysk's absence left a monumental gap in the room. Was this how that Elyron had felt? A gold bonded to him had broken their bond, if the talk was true. Even as he sensed Dysk's concern for him, as distant as the depths of the ocean, Rhaadys knew he didn't want to feel like that. Alone. Sweeping his gaze around the room, he noted how dark the place was. And not just out of necessity for Dysk's comfort, and with the place being underground. The air that permeated the quarters that belonged to Dysk and himself seemed as stifling and suffocating as a tomb. Shaking his head in a futile attempt to clear his thoughts, Rhaadys turned over and laid down once again, pulling the blanket up to his chin, feeling like a child; small and vulnerable. And alone.
Dysk returned some time later, to find Rhaadys like this. Again. Rhaadys wasn't asleep, she knew. But she decided to give him some reprieve. Wordlessly, she lay down on the floor directly at the side of Rhaadys' cot, rather than retreat to her den. Rhaadys needed her here; she sensed it. It didn't take long at all for her to fall into a light doze, only to settle into a deeper sleep as she felt Rhaadys drift off into a restless doze too. Yet something awoke her a short time after. Something large and warm pressed against her back, and she lifted her head carefully to investigate. What met her eyes both shocked her and filled her heart with a gentle warmth.
That wasn't a something. It was a someone.
Rhaadys himself had emerged from his bed and moved to the floor, as the moon graced the night sky, far above and out of their sight. Tucked against her broad back, one hand resting upon her side, Rhaadys seemed utterly small; as though he weren't a man grown, but a child. And children were in need of guidance and protection. Both were something Dysk could provide. Yet some of the tension from before had dissipated, leaving his face relaxed; slack with sleep. If he were to find out he'd done such a thing as cuddle close to a garnet wher to share rest, he was like to be mortified, regardless that Dysk was his garnet wher. Dysk gave the softest of hums, and Rhaadys stirred in his sleep, only to press himself even closer to Dysk. Gently, she nosed Rhaadys, her fondness clear, before setting her head back on her paws to rest. While he may refuse to admit it, he needed her. This moment made that clear. When he awoke, Rhaadys was sure to vehemently deny this ever occurring. How dare you even insinuate such a thing, he'd spit, eyes filled with such cold malice and spite. Such a prideful man, even in his darkest hour; when he was at his lowest.
Would Rhaadys ever realize that Dysk was here to help him?
TW: depressive words/thoughts/feelings
Dysk regarded the still form of Rhaadys where he lay in his bed. It had been some time since he stirred, and she found herself growing concerned for him. More concerned than usual, at least. There was always a part of her that fretted for Rhaadys and his wellbeing, despite his refusal of any and all of her inquires. Had today been a normal day, she'd be entirely unworried, for while Rhaadys was a light sleeper, he almost always slept soundly. But today was not a normal day. A normal day hadn't befallen them in some time. Dusk was upon them, and the beginning of their daily duties with it. Yet Rhaadys had not even minutely stirred, and it was past the time Rhaadys rose to begin the "day." Rhaadys was one to rise early, even before the standard waking hour most wherhandlers kept. It allowed both himself and his garnet time to prepare themselves and reflect before beginning their "day." To find him still abed was most abnormal.
But to find he was awake and still abed was even more alarming.
Rhaadys lay with his back to Dysk and the room as a whole, gazing at the wall, unseeing. The man didn't move a muscle, and his every breath seemed as loud as a dragon's roar in the silence of the room. For perhaps the first time in his life, Rhaadys didn't wish to rise to face the day. What awaited him? Nothing would be different. Rhaadys, proudly born to riders, was doomed to be a wherhandler, not a dragonrider. To be bonded to a garnet was just adding insult to injury; rubbing salt in a lingering wound. If Dysk had been a dragon, perhaps he might bring himself to overlook her bold magenta hide. Rhaadys let his eyes fall shut. Who was he kidding? All garnets, dragon and wher alike, were abnormal mutations, even more so than whites. How Rhaenys could find the strength to go about her day with such pride, bonded as she was to such a mouthy white dragon, remained a mystery to Rhaadys. One could only hope that the Candidate Timon, obnoxious as he was, would Impress to a beast of actual import; to spare their line further humiliation of Impressing abnormal colors.
Rhaadys. Rhaadys couldn't even find it in him to stiffen at Dysk's voice as she called to him. What he did do was say nothing. Dysk didn't seem to expect a response, and simply continued speaking. Time come to rise. Night awaits Rhaadys and Dysk. Again, nothing; the gentle reminder fell on deaf ears. Dysk sighed, the sound revealing her weariness. Duty not important to Rhaadys any-more? Dysk's tone grew sharper, as though challenging Rhaadys to give a response, a twitch; anything! In response, a heavy sigh. Rhaadys make such big deal of duty, it surprises Dysk to not see Rhaadys out door at this time! "What's the point?" Rhaadys snorted. "We get up, work through the night, only to retreat to this den with the coming of dawn and rise the evening next to do it all over again." Duty to Weyr and Pern important, Dysk retorted. Rhaadys says so, very often. If duty not important any-more, Rhaadys need find new mantra to feel better. That elicited a reaction. Rhaadys' shoulders visibly rippled under the blanket with his tension, and the garnet could sense that familiar tug in his jaw as he grit his teeth.
With an action so quick that it seemed a blur, Rhaadys turned to face Dysk and sat upright at the edge of his cot. "What would you have me do, Dysk?" he demanded of her. Dysk said nothing, too focused on how she might comfort her distressed handler. The raw edge in his voice was hard to miss; one of the only signs of tears held at bay. Elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, Rhaadys took a deep breath, and Dysk made no comment on how shaky said breath was. It was hard to catch, but Rhaadys' low mutterings floated to her. "I could've been a dragonrider... If I had just stayed firm in my resolve, news would've reached me about the changes upon my return to the Weyr and I could've presented myself as a Candidate... I could've even Impressed to one of those bronzes of Serapheth's latest clutch, or one of the browns... But I failed... My resolve wavered, and I accepted the invitation to the caravan queen's clutch." Rhaadys' shoulders rippled again, but this time with a totally different tension. Dysk simply sighed and stepped up to him, gently tucking her head in the space between his elbows.
For Rhaadys' sake, she said nothing of the drops of wetness that spotted her hide.
After what seemed an eternity, Dysk broke the silence. Rhaadys...regrets Dysk? The steel in the garnet's voice demanded an answer. It was an answer Rhaadys did not provide, unsurprisingly. But this silence held no clues for Dysk. Most often, his silences were loaded ones...but this silence conveyed mixed messages. Too overwhelmed with pain and grief, Dysk realized that Rhaadys would not be conveying anything sensible for some time. The garnet gently nuzzled her face against Rhaadys'. Dysk forgives Rhaadys, she murmured. For everything. The tears only began anew, and Rhaadys dragged a shaky breath into his lungs. Dysk here for Rhaadys, no matter what. Even if Rhaadys hates Dysk, Dysk stay at Rhaadys' side. Rhaadys and Dysk team, since Dysk's hatching. Rhaadys' upper arm gave a twitch in response. With a whuff of warm air, Dysk stepped back. Rhaadys stay here. Rest. Dysk tell squadleader Rhaadys not feeling well. Alarm flashed in Rhaadys' mind. Dysk wouldn't... Would she? Dysk know to be discreet, she assured him.
With that, the garnet padded out of the quarters she shared with Rhaadys, leaving him to his thoughts. Rhaadys watched her go, only to bury his face in his hands and tremble. Hardly a moment had passed before he realized how deeply alone he felt. Even Dysk's absence left a monumental gap in the room. Was this how that Elyron had felt? A gold bonded to him had broken their bond, if the talk was true. Even as he sensed Dysk's concern for him, as distant as the depths of the ocean, Rhaadys knew he didn't want to feel like that. Alone. Sweeping his gaze around the room, he noted how dark the place was. And not just out of necessity for Dysk's comfort, and with the place being underground. The air that permeated the quarters that belonged to Dysk and himself seemed as stifling and suffocating as a tomb. Shaking his head in a futile attempt to clear his thoughts, Rhaadys turned over and laid down once again, pulling the blanket up to his chin, feeling like a child; small and vulnerable. And alone.
Dysk returned some time later, to find Rhaadys like this. Again. Rhaadys wasn't asleep, she knew. But she decided to give him some reprieve. Wordlessly, she lay down on the floor directly at the side of Rhaadys' cot, rather than retreat to her den. Rhaadys needed her here; she sensed it. It didn't take long at all for her to fall into a light doze, only to settle into a deeper sleep as she felt Rhaadys drift off into a restless doze too. Yet something awoke her a short time after. Something large and warm pressed against her back, and she lifted her head carefully to investigate. What met her eyes both shocked her and filled her heart with a gentle warmth.
That wasn't a something. It was a someone.
Rhaadys himself had emerged from his bed and moved to the floor, as the moon graced the night sky, far above and out of their sight. Tucked against her broad back, one hand resting upon her side, Rhaadys seemed utterly small; as though he weren't a man grown, but a child. And children were in need of guidance and protection. Both were something Dysk could provide. Yet some of the tension from before had dissipated, leaving his face relaxed; slack with sleep. If he were to find out he'd done such a thing as cuddle close to a garnet wher to share rest, he was like to be mortified, regardless that Dysk was his garnet wher. Dysk gave the softest of hums, and Rhaadys stirred in his sleep, only to press himself even closer to Dysk. Gently, she nosed Rhaadys, her fondness clear, before setting her head back on her paws to rest. While he may refuse to admit it, he needed her. This moment made that clear. When he awoke, Rhaadys was sure to vehemently deny this ever occurring. How dare you even insinuate such a thing, he'd spit, eyes filled with such cold malice and spite. Such a prideful man, even in his darkest hour; when he was at his lowest.
Would Rhaadys ever realize that Dysk was here to help him?
Last edited by Agenothree on Mon Apr 15, 2024 9:55 pm, edited 1 time in total.
TRACKER ~ SHORTS
-
Agenothree - Peacekeeper
- Posts: 1400
- Joined: Tue Apr 27, 2021 10:04 pm
To Climb The LadderWeyrs
It was a cool evening in autumn's crispness, heralding winter's coming. Trees beyond Fort Weyr were beginning to lose summer's bright green hue, donning fall's bold oranges and reds in a glorious display. P'tyr sat on the ledge outside his weyr, legs idly swinging in the open air, crossed neatly at the ankle. Across his lap laid Inikoth's narrow muzzle, the blue rumbling softly as P'tyr stoked a mindless hand over the smooth hide of his brow ridges. A peaceful way to spend the time, was it not? Yet P'tyr was all but mindless tonight. Though silence reigned among the blue and the man, thoughts swirled with startling rapidity through his mind. A mark for your thoughts, Inikoth broke the silence at long last with his low drawl, rolling his near eye open to regard his bonded with a gleam of contentment to his eye.
"Mm?" P'tyr queried aloud, a wordless hum, only to sigh softly a moment later. How did he put this? As of late, he began, switching with ease to telepathy. I have entertained a rather curious series of thought. Go on, Inikoth drawled, tone lazy. Think about it a moment, Inikoth. I am your bonded, and you are a blue. Granted, you are one of the finest blues ever to fly Pern's skies...but where are we to go? Inikoth lifted his head from his bonded's lap to gaze at him, giving a rumble of confusion. P'tyr elaborated. The highest position a Fortian blue may attain is that of Wingleader...if he and his bonded are lucky enough to be selected among the bronzes and browns of the Weyr. Inikoth grumbled at that, and P'tyr chuckled aloud. No, he knew Inikoth would not be fond of that.
Do you think you and I are ones to settle only for Wingleader? he asked Inikoth sweetly. We are capable of so much more. It does not matter what color adorns your hide, my friend, but rather how sharp you've honed your wit, yes? Yes, Inikoth agreed, his voice fading into a hiss over the sounds of the letter "s" in the word. P'tyr rose to his feet, walking carefully over the scored stone of the ledge, arms tucked behind him in thought. Inikoth watched his bonded move, nostrils flaring to take in the scents in the air that surrounded them, as his bonded continued to speak. But Fort sees fit to only allow a green or blue to hold the rank of Wingleader. All in the name of Tradition. Ha! I'm frankly shocked that the Wherlingmaster is bonded to a garnet and a green, and yet holds office. Rolling his eyes, P'tyr admitted: Granted, it could be worse. Fort has certainly seen change over the Turns, and such change has allowed junior colors to rise farther in rank than they might in other Weyrs...but is it enough?
Turning on his heel to face Inikoth, P'tyr regarded the blue in contemplative silence. I selected Fort as our destination of transfer in haste, P'tyr admitted. The animosity you bore for our brown wingmate would have spelled our undoing. Inikoth growled his displeasure. That little rat-! he began, only to be cut off by his bonded. That little rat is no longer our concern. Inikoth huffed and rolled his eyes, but grew silent. Striding close to his blue, P'tyr rested his hand lightly upon Inikoth's brow, gazing into the blue's whirling eyes. What matters is the future before us. And I am not one to stand idly and allow fate to decide my course. I know you are not one to do the same, Inikoth. The blue rumbled his agreement. P'tyr smiled and went on. Which brings me to precisely what I am considering. Fort holds nothing more for us. It was a convenient destination to avoid ruin. But we have the world before us. Tell me, my Inikoth: what do you think of High Reaches?
Inikoth immediately hissed at the name, lifting his lips in a snarl. Inikoth, P'tyr quickly schooled his blue. Yes, High Reaches is famed for its metallic superiority...but that is history. High Reaches is overseen by a Council, with elections for its positions of leadership. Fort is ruled by the queen Serapheth and her dragons, and we are at the mercy of her whims. If we wished to rise to even Wingleader here, we would have to distinguish ourselves amongst bronzes and browns, not to mention the other blues and greens of the Weyr. Not that we would have any difficulty making ourselves shine as bright as the finest bronze, of course. But we must consider our goals. Do we want to only be Wingleader? We are capable of so much more... Catching onto his bonded's thoughts, Inikoth rumbled. Yes, the blue rasped, forked tongue flicking out. To rule...it is rightfully ours.
Gazing out across Fort's Weyrbowl, P'tyr quipped: A new election has come and gone, new leaders since decided long ago. Should we transfer in short order, we would find ample time to establish ourselves and ensure our place in High Reaches. P'tyr turned to his blue, his lips curling into a smile. What say you, Inikoth?
Inikoth's roar, echoing far and wide, was answer enough.
It was a cool evening in autumn's crispness, heralding winter's coming. Trees beyond Fort Weyr were beginning to lose summer's bright green hue, donning fall's bold oranges and reds in a glorious display. P'tyr sat on the ledge outside his weyr, legs idly swinging in the open air, crossed neatly at the ankle. Across his lap laid Inikoth's narrow muzzle, the blue rumbling softly as P'tyr stoked a mindless hand over the smooth hide of his brow ridges. A peaceful way to spend the time, was it not? Yet P'tyr was all but mindless tonight. Though silence reigned among the blue and the man, thoughts swirled with startling rapidity through his mind. A mark for your thoughts, Inikoth broke the silence at long last with his low drawl, rolling his near eye open to regard his bonded with a gleam of contentment to his eye.
"Mm?" P'tyr queried aloud, a wordless hum, only to sigh softly a moment later. How did he put this? As of late, he began, switching with ease to telepathy. I have entertained a rather curious series of thought. Go on, Inikoth drawled, tone lazy. Think about it a moment, Inikoth. I am your bonded, and you are a blue. Granted, you are one of the finest blues ever to fly Pern's skies...but where are we to go? Inikoth lifted his head from his bonded's lap to gaze at him, giving a rumble of confusion. P'tyr elaborated. The highest position a Fortian blue may attain is that of Wingleader...if he and his bonded are lucky enough to be selected among the bronzes and browns of the Weyr. Inikoth grumbled at that, and P'tyr chuckled aloud. No, he knew Inikoth would not be fond of that.
Do you think you and I are ones to settle only for Wingleader? he asked Inikoth sweetly. We are capable of so much more. It does not matter what color adorns your hide, my friend, but rather how sharp you've honed your wit, yes? Yes, Inikoth agreed, his voice fading into a hiss over the sounds of the letter "s" in the word. P'tyr rose to his feet, walking carefully over the scored stone of the ledge, arms tucked behind him in thought. Inikoth watched his bonded move, nostrils flaring to take in the scents in the air that surrounded them, as his bonded continued to speak. But Fort sees fit to only allow a green or blue to hold the rank of Wingleader. All in the name of Tradition. Ha! I'm frankly shocked that the Wherlingmaster is bonded to a garnet and a green, and yet holds office. Rolling his eyes, P'tyr admitted: Granted, it could be worse. Fort has certainly seen change over the Turns, and such change has allowed junior colors to rise farther in rank than they might in other Weyrs...but is it enough?
Turning on his heel to face Inikoth, P'tyr regarded the blue in contemplative silence. I selected Fort as our destination of transfer in haste, P'tyr admitted. The animosity you bore for our brown wingmate would have spelled our undoing. Inikoth growled his displeasure. That little rat-! he began, only to be cut off by his bonded. That little rat is no longer our concern. Inikoth huffed and rolled his eyes, but grew silent. Striding close to his blue, P'tyr rested his hand lightly upon Inikoth's brow, gazing into the blue's whirling eyes. What matters is the future before us. And I am not one to stand idly and allow fate to decide my course. I know you are not one to do the same, Inikoth. The blue rumbled his agreement. P'tyr smiled and went on. Which brings me to precisely what I am considering. Fort holds nothing more for us. It was a convenient destination to avoid ruin. But we have the world before us. Tell me, my Inikoth: what do you think of High Reaches?
Inikoth immediately hissed at the name, lifting his lips in a snarl. Inikoth, P'tyr quickly schooled his blue. Yes, High Reaches is famed for its metallic superiority...but that is history. High Reaches is overseen by a Council, with elections for its positions of leadership. Fort is ruled by the queen Serapheth and her dragons, and we are at the mercy of her whims. If we wished to rise to even Wingleader here, we would have to distinguish ourselves amongst bronzes and browns, not to mention the other blues and greens of the Weyr. Not that we would have any difficulty making ourselves shine as bright as the finest bronze, of course. But we must consider our goals. Do we want to only be Wingleader? We are capable of so much more... Catching onto his bonded's thoughts, Inikoth rumbled. Yes, the blue rasped, forked tongue flicking out. To rule...it is rightfully ours.
Gazing out across Fort's Weyrbowl, P'tyr quipped: A new election has come and gone, new leaders since decided long ago. Should we transfer in short order, we would find ample time to establish ourselves and ensure our place in High Reaches. P'tyr turned to his blue, his lips curling into a smile. What say you, Inikoth?
Inikoth's roar, echoing far and wide, was answer enough.
Last edited by Agenothree on Mon Apr 15, 2024 10:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.
TRACKER ~ SHORTS
-
Agenothree - Peacekeeper
- Posts: 1400
- Joined: Tue Apr 27, 2021 10:04 pm
A Matter of TimeWeyrs
Trigger Warning: Death, Drinking
It was a quiet night, cloudy and too warm as summer was wont to be, perfect for spending time in contemplative solitude in one's quarters, no one but Meguyakuth and a dry Benden red for company. But of all things Dorian thought might interrupt his evening, it wasn't a bronze firelizard flying into his weyr, clutching a letter in his paws. Though it took him a moment to place him, Dorian recognized his little messenger: Venatori, Gereon's firelizard, a spiteful and vicious thing on a good day. But he was oddly subdued as he landed before Dorian and hopped on one foot to hand off his message before lifting off and vanishing between as quickly as he'd come. It was strange behavior from a usually ornery creature, no doubt. Perhaps Gereon's letter might grant some insight.
But as his hand moved to break its seal, Dorian paused, hesitating. Gereon hadn't written to him personally for Turns. For him to do so now meant something was wrong, terribly so. Had something happened to Felix? To his parents? Dorian shook his head, reminding himself to take a breath and not drink so much. Perhaps he was simply sending his best pupil congratulations on his Impression, delayed by Hold business. It was a weak excuse and not enough to put his fears to true rest, but it was enough to get him to open Gereon's scroll and deftly unroll it. Awoken from her rest by her bonded's unease, Meguyakuth lifted her head from her paws and observed Dorian quietly, her eyes a soft yellow in her concern, though he didn't notice as he began to read.
Dorian had to read and reread those words again and again, to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. Felix was dead? Who is he? Meguyakuth asked, eyes betraying her worry, seeing images of a strange man flash by in her bonded's mind, too fast for her to catch. "Was," Dorian corrected aloud in an oddly steady voice, opening his mind to his memories, to show her who Felix was; a shy boy, whispering about how he'd get in trouble if he followed Dorian, but following him regardless. A boy who had grown into a thoughtful young man that Dorian was proud to know. Well, to've known. Feeling his throat go tight, he recalled that Gereon had included something from Felix himself, some final words to cling to in these coming days of grief.
It was but a slip of parchment that fell from within Gereon's scroll, a series of sentences written by a shaky hand in scrawling script.
Tears blurred his vision as Dorian recalled that day as Felix had written. Two young men who were little more than boys stood where they could look across Igen's vast sands. One dreamed of a life where he wouldn't inherit his parents' responsibilities and live in miserable luxury, a life where he would be free to do every grand and outlandish thing ever known to man. One was quiet as he supported his friend, knowing he would die one day, accepting that he wouldn't get a chance to see his friend do all these great and wonderful things he said would accomplish, but happy still. "It's a brave new world, Dorian," one said in great confidence to himself, to which his company answered in nothing but a smile.
A sob, a harsh and grating sound forced from somewhere his chest, left him. Dorian put his face in his hands, wanting very much to will his tears away. Meguyakuth drew near. It's a hurt I can't make right, she observed aloud between them, her voice hard and resigned at once. "As much as I cherish your gifts, no amount of wherries or furbeasts can undo what has happened," he answered in a voice he fought to keep from shaking. "I'm sorry, my dearest Meguyakuth." Meguyakuth snorted frustration, but said nothing more; she wouldn't press further, not yet.
Dorian poured himself a fresh cup of wine. It wasn't what Felix would've wanted him to do, but he could hardly think of such things right now. If there was ever a time to drown his sorrows in fine wine, he couldn't imagine a better time than now.
Trigger Warning: Death, Drinking
It was a quiet night, cloudy and too warm as summer was wont to be, perfect for spending time in contemplative solitude in one's quarters, no one but Meguyakuth and a dry Benden red for company. But of all things Dorian thought might interrupt his evening, it wasn't a bronze firelizard flying into his weyr, clutching a letter in his paws. Though it took him a moment to place him, Dorian recognized his little messenger: Venatori, Gereon's firelizard, a spiteful and vicious thing on a good day. But he was oddly subdued as he landed before Dorian and hopped on one foot to hand off his message before lifting off and vanishing between as quickly as he'd come. It was strange behavior from a usually ornery creature, no doubt. Perhaps Gereon's letter might grant some insight.
But as his hand moved to break its seal, Dorian paused, hesitating. Gereon hadn't written to him personally for Turns. For him to do so now meant something was wrong, terribly so. Had something happened to Felix? To his parents? Dorian shook his head, reminding himself to take a breath and not drink so much. Perhaps he was simply sending his best pupil congratulations on his Impression, delayed by Hold business. It was a weak excuse and not enough to put his fears to true rest, but it was enough to get him to open Gereon's scroll and deftly unroll it. Awoken from her rest by her bonded's unease, Meguyakuth lifted her head from her paws and observed Dorian quietly, her eyes a soft yellow in her concern, though he didn't notice as he began to read.
Dorian of Green Meguyakuth
I hope my letter finds you well. I hear congratulations are in order; Felix told me from one of your previous letters to him that you'd Impressed your Meguyakuth. I know your parents would've expected more of you than a green, hoping you'd bring them honor by Impressing bronze, no matter your estrangement, but I know you care little of such prospects. From what details he shared, you seem quite fond of her, and she of you. I'm sure that's all that matters, that you are happy. Happiness is something your parents always struggled to understand, but I trust you don't fault them for such a shortcoming.
But congratulations isn't all I bring in writing to you, Dorian. It is in great sorrow that I must inform you that Felix has succumbed to his illness. Our healers did all they could, but he left us yesterday. Thankfully, he passed peacefully and in no pain, a small mercy from which I take great comfort in these dark times. While we all anticipated his passing, foreknowledge cannot prepare one to actually face such a harsh truth. We will hold his memorial in two days' time. Both you and Meguyakuth are welcome to attend. I believe Felix would want you to come. Enclosed, I would relay his last message to you, as per his earnest request.
Lord Gereon
Dorian had to read and reread those words again and again, to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. Felix was dead? Who is he? Meguyakuth asked, eyes betraying her worry, seeing images of a strange man flash by in her bonded's mind, too fast for her to catch. "Was," Dorian corrected aloud in an oddly steady voice, opening his mind to his memories, to show her who Felix was; a shy boy, whispering about how he'd get in trouble if he followed Dorian, but following him regardless. A boy who had grown into a thoughtful young man that Dorian was proud to know. Well, to've known. Feeling his throat go tight, he recalled that Gereon had included something from Felix himself, some final words to cling to in these coming days of grief.
It was but a slip of parchment that fell from within Gereon's scroll, a series of sentences written by a shaky hand in scrawling script.
Dorian, my dearest friend.
By your reading these words, I will be gone. I ought to say something witty or profound or lasting, but I'm no good at words; that was always your forte. No matter what situation we'd found ourselves in, you always had something smart to say about it. But it was something so simple that left such a marked impact on me. "It's a brave new world, Dorian," you'd said to yourself, looking far into Igen from my father's holdfast. I took heart in those words, every day, no matter how far apart we found ourselves, in my happiest moments and my saddest. And look at you: you've faced that brave new world and found something beautiful. I regret not being able to meet your Meguyakuth myself, to not see you once more, but knowing she is yours and you are happy is enough for me.
Please do not be sad, Dorian. Be happy. Cherish what you've found and what you will find. Consider it my dying wish.
Felix
Tears blurred his vision as Dorian recalled that day as Felix had written. Two young men who were little more than boys stood where they could look across Igen's vast sands. One dreamed of a life where he wouldn't inherit his parents' responsibilities and live in miserable luxury, a life where he would be free to do every grand and outlandish thing ever known to man. One was quiet as he supported his friend, knowing he would die one day, accepting that he wouldn't get a chance to see his friend do all these great and wonderful things he said would accomplish, but happy still. "It's a brave new world, Dorian," one said in great confidence to himself, to which his company answered in nothing but a smile.
A sob, a harsh and grating sound forced from somewhere his chest, left him. Dorian put his face in his hands, wanting very much to will his tears away. Meguyakuth drew near. It's a hurt I can't make right, she observed aloud between them, her voice hard and resigned at once. "As much as I cherish your gifts, no amount of wherries or furbeasts can undo what has happened," he answered in a voice he fought to keep from shaking. "I'm sorry, my dearest Meguyakuth." Meguyakuth snorted frustration, but said nothing more; she wouldn't press further, not yet.
Dorian poured himself a fresh cup of wine. It wasn't what Felix would've wanted him to do, but he could hardly think of such things right now. If there was ever a time to drown his sorrows in fine wine, he couldn't imagine a better time than now.
Last edited by Agenothree on Sun Sep 15, 2024 7:52 pm, edited 1 time in total.
TRACKER ~ SHORTS
-
Agenothree - Peacekeeper
- Posts: 1400
- Joined: Tue Apr 27, 2021 10:04 pm
Unit of OneWherhandler Barracks
Aodh felt a headache pounding behind his eyes, like a living thing trying to break through its prison within his skull. It'd been no different for some time, every day a literal and figurative headache to endure, every waking moment a challenge. That was, in part, thanks to his own negligence. Reflecting further on it made him realize it was completely thanks to his own negligence. Negligence, carelessness, ineptitude, call it what you willed, but it all boiled down to one poor choice and one person: Hirshal. Every day was a losing battle, a game called "what was going to infuriate Hirshal and force Aodh to step in," played in a constant and endless cycle. It was all a tangle of conflicting feelings; he loved him, he loathed him, he looked forward to seeing him, he dreaded hearing what trouble his poor countenance had gotten him into today. Life seemed more spent keeping Hirshal from getting demerits on his record than actually living his own life. Was that to be how he spent his days? Playing babysitter?
Well, Hirshal had Hirsk for that. Aodh was quitting. As soon as such a notion had entered his mind, Aosk had expressed uncertainty, afraid of what change such an act could bring. But Aodh wouldn't be swayed, much to her chagrin, though he took time to comfort and reassure her that though change was ahead of them, he'd be close to guide her in Hirsk's place. Aosk was still skeptical, but she would follow him wherever he went; she chose her bonded above her sister. Aodh was a man who valued being prepared. Ahead of letting his proverbial axe fall, he arranged all details of his transfer to his chosen station: Semaca. As long as he could remember, he'd watched his parents sew, until he took up a needle himself. Surely, his skills would be put to use in a Weyr where all skills were valuable. In his mind too, Aosk could flourish somewhere warm and bright, where winters are easy and summers beautiful. And in setting his transfer beforehand, neither Hirshal nor himself ultimately had a choice; he would go forth as duty dictated, to see his transfer through.
So that's what he did. It was ugly, breaking it to Hirshal, as Aodh anticipated. Hirshal was a passionate man in everything he did, so it was no surprise that he took Aodh's news poorly. But it was done and there would be no undoing it; his transfer had to be fulfilled. Aodh left feeling...fragmented. Logically, he had done what was right for himself and his future, not to mention Aosk's wellbeing too...but he couldn't deny how harsh a sting he felt. On some level, he realized that some part of him would be left behind in Fort, in a man he would not see or hear from again, in days spent in little spats and nights spent together in comfortable barracks. But it would be impossible to undo what had been done...and Aodh wouldn't. So it done, Aosk sighed, admitting something she didn't want to acknowledge was right in front of her, watching Aodh pack his things. Aodh and Aosk together. No Hirshal and Hirsk. Aodh and Aosk unit of one.
Aodh paused, stopping what he was doing to process her words, his surroundings quiet in wake of Hirshal's departure. "Yes," he decided. "We're a unit of one." Aosk was smarter than she gave herself credit for. Something in her words gave Aodh some measure of peace. "A unit of one," he tried those words again, huffing a laugh. "I quite like that. It suits us, don't you agree?" Aosk agreed, but she actually agreed for herself too, rather than purely following her bonded's lead. Yes, Aosk like, she purred, getting up from her burrow to press her head against Aodh's chest. Aodh and Aosk always together. Go from Fort together. Go to Semaca together. Do everything together...right? Putting down his extra straps from where he'd been packing them away, he rested his hand against her muzzle.
Together.
Aodh felt a headache pounding behind his eyes, like a living thing trying to break through its prison within his skull. It'd been no different for some time, every day a literal and figurative headache to endure, every waking moment a challenge. That was, in part, thanks to his own negligence. Reflecting further on it made him realize it was completely thanks to his own negligence. Negligence, carelessness, ineptitude, call it what you willed, but it all boiled down to one poor choice and one person: Hirshal. Every day was a losing battle, a game called "what was going to infuriate Hirshal and force Aodh to step in," played in a constant and endless cycle. It was all a tangle of conflicting feelings; he loved him, he loathed him, he looked forward to seeing him, he dreaded hearing what trouble his poor countenance had gotten him into today. Life seemed more spent keeping Hirshal from getting demerits on his record than actually living his own life. Was that to be how he spent his days? Playing babysitter?
Well, Hirshal had Hirsk for that. Aodh was quitting. As soon as such a notion had entered his mind, Aosk had expressed uncertainty, afraid of what change such an act could bring. But Aodh wouldn't be swayed, much to her chagrin, though he took time to comfort and reassure her that though change was ahead of them, he'd be close to guide her in Hirsk's place. Aosk was still skeptical, but she would follow him wherever he went; she chose her bonded above her sister. Aodh was a man who valued being prepared. Ahead of letting his proverbial axe fall, he arranged all details of his transfer to his chosen station: Semaca. As long as he could remember, he'd watched his parents sew, until he took up a needle himself. Surely, his skills would be put to use in a Weyr where all skills were valuable. In his mind too, Aosk could flourish somewhere warm and bright, where winters are easy and summers beautiful. And in setting his transfer beforehand, neither Hirshal nor himself ultimately had a choice; he would go forth as duty dictated, to see his transfer through.
So that's what he did. It was ugly, breaking it to Hirshal, as Aodh anticipated. Hirshal was a passionate man in everything he did, so it was no surprise that he took Aodh's news poorly. But it was done and there would be no undoing it; his transfer had to be fulfilled. Aodh left feeling...fragmented. Logically, he had done what was right for himself and his future, not to mention Aosk's wellbeing too...but he couldn't deny how harsh a sting he felt. On some level, he realized that some part of him would be left behind in Fort, in a man he would not see or hear from again, in days spent in little spats and nights spent together in comfortable barracks. But it would be impossible to undo what had been done...and Aodh wouldn't. So it done, Aosk sighed, admitting something she didn't want to acknowledge was right in front of her, watching Aodh pack his things. Aodh and Aosk together. No Hirshal and Hirsk. Aodh and Aosk unit of one.
Aodh paused, stopping what he was doing to process her words, his surroundings quiet in wake of Hirshal's departure. "Yes," he decided. "We're a unit of one." Aosk was smarter than she gave herself credit for. Something in her words gave Aodh some measure of peace. "A unit of one," he tried those words again, huffing a laugh. "I quite like that. It suits us, don't you agree?" Aosk agreed, but she actually agreed for herself too, rather than purely following her bonded's lead. Yes, Aosk like, she purred, getting up from her burrow to press her head against Aodh's chest. Aodh and Aosk always together. Go from Fort together. Go to Semaca together. Do everything together...right? Putting down his extra straps from where he'd been packing them away, he rested his hand against her muzzle.
Together.
TRACKER ~ SHORTS
12 posts
• Page 1 of 1