Compendium of the Arcane

[Arcane]

Away From Home
Late Summer 2767, Fort Weyr (Repost)

If Riku was going to be here for a turn and a half, some things had to change.  Namely, he needed a better way of writing home, since apparently his regular courier kept spying on him.  He'd gotten the idea from Miloresh' letter, the obvious solution.  He was going to get a flit.

And he thought he knew where.  Apparently one of the garnet rider's flits had hidden a clutch on the sands while the garnets were clutching. Not B'recal, who rode Taissath's mother.  The other one...G'er. But it was still worth a try as Riku didn't really have the marks to buy one at market.

Taissath slept slung around his neck as he climbed his way to the weyr in question and knocked on the door.  A head of sleep-mussed red haired peered out shortly after, quickly brightening with a broad grin, "Riku!  What are you doing here?  And that must be Taissath!  Come on in!  Neozeoth- Your hatchlings' classmate and her rider are here!"

Joy...what do they want?

Riku shifted uncomfortably under the garnet's sharp gaze. She wasn't very nice...

"Well...we're from High Reaches and all our friends were still there and we heard you had flit eggs..."

G'er's eyes all but sparkled as he nodded, "Of course you can have one!  I'm going to give a couple to my siblings but they're not all old enough and Neo won't let me have a second...I'll get you a bucket and an egg!  And Taissath can have a new friend."

Taissath hadn't been able to get a word edgewise and she blinked skeptically at this overly friendly human, Uh...sure....I guess...

"Of course!  Flits make great friends.  You'll see.  Even Neozeoth likes ours."
---
A sevenday later, Taissath did indeed have a new little hatchling curled on her face.  It was so small and cute and maybe they would be friends after all.  And Riku could write home so he'd be happy even though the whole letter thing seemed kind of silly to her.

[Arcane]

The Care and Bathing of Your Rider- R'tan/Varda
Late Summer, 2767

TW: Internal body shaming


Varda sank into the baths with a hiss, the warm water soothing against muscles wearied by a long day of training.  It was that time around evening where wherhandlers were just waking up and the diurnal residents were enjoying their dinners.  She knew from experience it was the best time to bathe alone.

Which was how she preferred it.  Varda wasn't a woman who looked good naked.  She'd seen enough pitying glances at Benden to last a lifetime.

It was only in solitude she allowed herself to soak.  Her eyes drifted closed and she let her mind wander.

They opened again at the sound of quiet footsteps, a familiar tread.  R'tan.  He'd kept his word and helped her practice using a sword with her clumsy right hand. After a month of sparring, she recognized the sound of his pace.  Which meant it was time to go.

"No need to get up," he said as she was tensed to stand, "Why are you always running away from me, Varda?  Do I make you nervous?  Never made a brownrider nervous before."

"There's another bath," she said curtly as he removed his shirt.

"This one suits me fine." She noticed he did, however, go to the opposite corner.  As far away from her as possible, as if he took part of her bath just to prove a point.  Her soak was no longer so relaxing.

She looked away.  He really was a very well-formed man.  And he could hear that from somebody else.
---
A better man would have left.  Varda clearly was uncomfortable with his presence.  Maybe she didn't like men.  Or maybe she just didn't like him.  It was odd, given it was a public bath and she'd surely seen naked men there before.  He wasn't getting close or letting his eyes linger.

Although the little he had seen he liked more than he'd thought he would.  Her body was muscular and strong. R'tan had never thought that appealed to him.  He'd been wrong.  It didn't matter.  She'd made no secret of the fact she never liked nor trusted him and he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Don't worry.  I'm not interested," he said at the sight of her tension.  A harmless lie, given her feelings were clear, "Just taking a bath.  Same as you."

She flushed and kept looking away, "I didn't think you were."

"Come now, Varda.  What have I ever done to you?" Because he did want to know.  Even at Semaca, brownriders didn't usually cower.

"Nothing.  I just don't like bathing with people.  It's not personal."

"Then ignore me.  You won't even know I'm here."
---
It was impossible to ignore him, the sound of water splashing and the scrape of his washing cloth against his skin.  Varda sighed and gave up, asking, "What do you want?"

He wasn't so much as looking at her and she was grateful for it.  She still didn't know how she'd bring herself to leave the water with him right there.  Bathing with a stranger was bad enough. Bathing with R'tan was humiliating.

"To talk. We never talk.  Why is that?"

"What do you want to know?" she asked warily.

"Where are you from?  Why did you become a rider?  How long have you been at Semaca?" R'tan asked conversationally, "You know, the usual pleasantries."

"Fine.  And then you go," she ordered.  She knew he didn't deserve her snapping at him.  It was a public bath.  He had as much right to be here as she did.  But she wanted him gone.  Badly, "I'm from Vinter Hall.  I was Searched at 19 by Benden Weyr and because I had no offers of marriage or particular gift for any craft, I accepted.  We were too liberal for Benden so we came here when we graduated, nearly three turns ago now.  We were some of the first."

"As were we," R'tan said, "Mazath's High Reaches born.  But we left as soon as we could. Golre's reign was never kind to chromatics."

Varda winced in sympathy.  Golre's High Reaches had been even worse than Benden.  And she'd never seen it from the view of a whiterider.  She couldn't even imagine, "I'm sorry."
---
R'tan smiled bitterly.  She couldn't understand.  But she'd left, instead of staying where she and her kind led by virtue of their dragon's size.  He could respect that.  When she said she wasn't like the others, she meant it.  In all the time he'd trained with her, she'd never once brought up his dragon's color to put him down, "You don't have to be.  I wasn't forced.  Some were, but not me.  I went willingly, because I was young and stupid and arrogant..."

"I went willingly too," Varda interrupted. It seemed their conversation had distracted her from the fact she wanted him gone, "And I stayed willingly.  Yes, I disagreed, loudly, but I never tried to leave.  People tried to make me and would have if it hadn't been for Magmeth but...I wanted to be near my family.  Even though I knew Benden was wrong."

It seemed they did have something in common after all.

"Why did you leave then?" he asked.

"Because of Magmeth.  She would never have been allowed to be herself there.  Browns aren't bronzes and we were more trouble than we were worth.  Why did you come to Semaca?"

"Because Igen isn't Benden or High Reaches. It's also not Semaca.  Every day of my life, I was lesser.  And I refused to accept it."

She smiled at him, her eyes locking on his and it was like a kick to the gut. She understood.  And he cared that she understood more than he cared to dwell on, "No, I can't see you ever agreeing to live as anyone's inferior, R'tan."

[Arcane]

After The Flight- 2767, Semaca Weyr (Repost)

They had eventually made it back to Varda's weyr.  The flight had ended...at some point before that.  R'tan wasn't entirely clear on the details as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.  He knew Mazath was nearby.  And Varda was still fast asleep next to him.  Not an entirely bad feeling.

Good morning, scout, a female voice said as a large brown head glanced indifferently over his naked body, Have fun?

"Yes, very much so," he said dryly as he watched Varda stretching to wakefulness.  R'tan brushed a quick kiss across her lips as he glanced around for his clothes.  He grimaced at the sight of them, sandy and torn, "You know this is quite a large weyr.  If we're going to do this more often...there's room enough for a change of clothes."

Varda bit her lip and nodded, "But you're not moving that giant snake skull in here. It's terrifying."

"It's a sea serpent, actually..."

Deep blue eyes met his, steel beneath midnight.  He held up his hands, "I'll trade it to Rigel tomorrow."

Not trade, scout.  Give.  I don't want mice or tunnelsnakes or wherry skulls or wher claws or anything else already dead in my weyr.

"Do you...uh...think you can stop calling me scout now, Magmeth?  Given I AM giving up a giant sea serpent for you, it seems only fair, don't you think?"

Magmeth gave him a silently aristocratic look and harrumph.

[Arcane]

Uninvited Guest- Noor and Nuunieth, Early Fall 2767, Semaca Weyr (Repost)

It was ON HIS TAIL.  And had apparently been there the whole walk back.  Just clinging there.  A small, irritating gnat too tiny to merit even the barest hint of notice.  Nuunieth scowled and tried to shake it off.  Again.  But it just kept clinging.  And snoring.  As if mocking him.

Deliberately, he lifted the tail to his face and let out a roar.  The much smaller bronze blinked open eyes blue with amusement and closed them again as if not afraid at all.  This was unacceptable.

GET OFF! he let out a mental screech as he whipped his tail around hard and fast enough to dislodge it...right into the arms of his rider, who had just walked into the doorway.

"I presume this is one of them?" Noor asked with a raised eyebrow as it looked up at her with eyes starting to show a hint of hunger.

Yes.  The stupid one.

"Our one," Noor corrected as she offered it a bite of her breakfast roll.  It nibbled almost smugly, "As it seems to be the only one not terrified of you.  Where was he hiding?"

...Somewhere ill-advised, Nuuth grumbled, I don't want him.  You can't have him.

Of course I can.  Don't worry.  You'll barely notice he's here.

[Arcane]

An Errand- Early Fall, 2767, Benden Weyr (Repost)

L'ron frowned down at the letter in his hand.  It hadn't changed.  The burned parchment still held the same pathetic, whiny words.  Save me, save me, save me.  I'm a failure.  I'm too good for tradition.  Blah, blah, blah.  THIS was why garnetriders should not exist.  Or be in charge of anything.  His son was a blight to the family line.  Clearly, he shouldn't have trusted in the mothering skills of a greenrider.

But it would all be resolved.  Soon.  It was only a matter of time.  He smiled a cold smile at the short little pathetic man before him.  Good for nothing.  Human trash.  But useful human trash who could as of yet be of service to his betters.

"You will go to High Reaches, watch my son and report everything.  I'll send further instructions.  You will be a candidate," L'ron instructed patiently.  Because surely the man could not be expected to understand on his own, "It's the easiest way to get them to trust you.  You are neither expected nor required to Impress, of course.  Simply blend in and do your job."

"Of course, lord L'ron.  Dobby wants to help the young lord D'ark," the man said, almost sickeningly servile. L'ron had trained him well, "But how, lord L'ron, will Dobby become a candidate?  Dobby is not worthy."

"Don't worry about that.  It's handled," L'ron said as he stepped outside.  The greenrider was waiting there, a poor, pathetic man who simply wished to resume his natural place in the world.  This was the problem with heretics.  They only burned the very people they were trying to save.  L'ron took mercy on him and gave him the promised sack of firestone as he pushed Dobby forward, "This is him.  The boy I want you to Search."

A small green dragon looked him over and nodded.  Her wings were covered in burns and scars, barely capable of flight, but her voice still had its strength as she said, Yes.  This one we can take.

As if it was really her choice at all.

[Arcane]

Here To Help- Early Fall, 2767, High Reaches Weyr (Repost)

It had been another long, exhausting day.  They had a wingleader now but she was so new and so...Fortian and crude and...It was better than it had been.  It was a long way from good.  There was still no replacement in sight.  He was a garnetrider, not even 25 turns old.  He wasn't meant to help lead a wing already in shambles.

I think we're doing better, actually, Masreith said hopefully as she winged towards a home that was still far too empty.  The healers promised he'd have his weyrmate and betrothed back soon but D'ark suspected they'd said so just to get rid of him, Nobody crashed today.  At least some of the riders follow our orders.  And you didn't get your formations confused.  I count that a success.

D'ark didn't.  His father would have done it better.  Anyone would have.  He'd watched the other wings practice to try to find some clue what to do.  It had simply driven home how utterly inadequate he was.  Myalla was only two turns older than him and had been a wingleader for under a season, a mere brownrider in command of those who should have been her betters.  And yet...they listened when she spoke and her wing had made it through their nightmare of a threadfall remarkably whole.  No wonder his own wing had petitioned to have her move to Moonshot and take over as lead.

Chekov was his own age and in the infirmary, not even able to serve in the field.  And yet STARFALL'S wingleader had had no trouble finding a temporary second and despite their own losses, they flew and flew well.  It all ran so smoothly.  Chekov was a better wingsecond from his sick bed than D'ark would ever be healthy and whole.  He and Myalla had been given D'ark lessons but...They made it look so easy.  And still he couldn't do it.

As in...it wasn't a good day and all he really wanted was to go home and find his weyrmate there, waiting for him.  Instead there was...a stranger.  A very short, dark-haired stranger in candidate knots sitting on his bed, beaming up at him.

"Young lord D'ark!  It must be you!  Dobby knows it.  For young lord D'ark is as handsome as his father," he called out, high and cheerful.  D'ark just stared.  And blinked and wondered if this was all some sort of strange nightmare.  Because...what the forsk?

"Who are you, why are you in my weyr and how do you know my father?" D'ark asked with as much aristocratic hauteur as he could muster.  It could have been M'love, come home at last to a strange man in their bed.  This was unacceptable.  Although...he'd gotten D'ark's name right.  Nobody ever got it without instruction.

"Why Dobby is but Lord L'ron's humble drudge.  Now here to serve the young lord D'ark at good Lord L'ron's orders."

His father had...sent him a servant?  He was alive?  He still cared?  D'ark's heart warmed a little inside.  But...why hadn't he come himself? "Did my father send a note?"

Dobby drooped as if all the life had gone out of him as he shook his head, "No, Lord D'ark.  Dobby is very, very sorry. But Dobby can find another note if Lord D'ark wishes."

It felt like kicking a puppy.  D'ark sighed.  Had it been his father at all or merely some imposter seeking Faranth knew what?

"It's okay, Dobby.  You don't have to get me a note.  Or serve me.  I'm not a bronzerider."

"Dobby knows.  But may Dobby say your garnet is most lovely?  Surely as pretty as any bronze.  Dobby would be glad to serve.  It is an honor to help young Lord D'ark and Lady Masreith."

I like him.  Can we keep him?

NO we cannot.  High Reaches isn't like that any more, D'ark lifted a hand to rub away the tension between his eyebrows.  Why him?  Why always him?  He wanted so badly to believe it was true...that his father had sent Dobby as some strange form of affection or encouragement...That he had heard what became of his son and was proud.  But his dreams always amounted to nothing but ash.  All but one.  M'love was the only wish he'd ever made that had come true.

"Dobby- why are you wearing candidate knots?  Were you Searched?"

If he was a candidate...D'ark would simply send him back.  With firm orders not to come again.  Because surely some things were beyond the pale.  Even D'ark was entitled to privacy in his own weyr.

"Dobby was not really Searched, Lord D'ark," Dobby said earnestly, drooping again.  D'ark couldn't keep up with his mood and those eyes made him feel like everything he said was wrong.  Why did nothing he did ever turn out right? "But Lord L'ron had a greenrider pretend. So Dobby pretends. Dobby can stop if Lord D'ark wishes but...Dobby likes being a candidate.  Dobby has a roommate.  Dobby learns things.  Dobby is useful."

"Good.  That's good, Dobby," D'ark said awkwardly, "You...do that.  Just...this is a private weyr.  You can't be here.  I have a weyrmate.  She wouldn't like a stranger hanging around."

"Dobby is sorry.  Dobby didn't mean to cause any trouble to Lord D'ark or Lady..."

"M'love.  Her name is M'love.  But please...don't call me lord," D'ark said.  He never would have thought he'd resent the title but it had become something private, special, between him and his future wife.  It wasn't Dobby's name to use.  Not to mention...D'ark didn't think he wanted to be a lord anymore.  He couldn't even figure out how to be a wingsecond, "I'm not a lord.  D'ark is fine.  Or garnetrider.  Or wingsecond if you must."

"Dobby does not deserve that honor," Dobby said with a shake of his head.

"Of course you do.  Say...do you drink wine?" D'ark asked.  Because if that Dobby was so determined to stick around...D'ark needed a drink and a listening ear.

"It would be an honor, Lord Wingsecond Garnetrider D'ark!" Dobby all but crooned.

Clearly this was going to take some work.

[Arcane]

Late Fall, 2767, Semaca Weyr- Shards Happen (Repost)

The skull was gone.  Varda noticed it as soon as she walked into the living room and it made her blink back tears.  She wasn't usually so emotional but...She hadn't been expecting the day's news.  And for all she'd told him to get rid of it...She hadn't really expected him to.  He'd get bored of her eventually and move on.  Men like him simply didn't settle for women like her.

Her hand drifted over her abdomen.  This wasn't supposed to happen to her.  She was a rider.  She went between.  Sure it had been a little less frequently since she could no longer handle firestone as nimbly as she used to and Magmeth didn't exactly push for extra practice but...She was supposed to have children when she was ready.  When she decided to.  If ever.

How was she going to tell R'tan?  SHOULD she tell R'tan?  Probably...it wasn't like she had some other lover she could blame it on...He would leave once he knew.  Children meant permanence.  That wasn't what this was.

She was still staring at the walls when he walked in, whistling, a carefree smile on his handsome face and something...spotted draped across his arms, "I couldn't trade the skull for that sapphire I wanted but I did get us some new blankets.  Thick and warm."

"We live in Semaca...It's hot here," Varda blinked.

"Well we don't have to actually sleep on them I suppose...but they look very regal, don't you think?"

She nodded and bit her lip.  His eyes fixed on her and his voice dropped with sudden concern, "What's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant." It just slipped out.  Because...it really wasn't a feasible secret to keep.

R'tan's face went blank, "Is it mine?"

"Hard to imagine it's not."

For once, his eyes were serious and thoughtful as he nodded and said, "Okay then.  We'll save the furs for him...or her.  Babies get cold."

Varda blinked again.  R'tan never did quite what she expected, "You don't have to be involved..."

"Of course I do.  I'm going to be a father," he grinned, looking utterly delighted, "We should have more.  A lot more.  I always wanted an army of mini-me's.  I should...uh...probably find a new place for all our blades...Since Semaca doesn't really have a creche yet and even when it does...I want to raise them here.  My father was a wherhandler and he still raised us.  That's what we should do."

Varda nodded.  It seemed they were in this together, "My parents were vinters.  We lived with them too.  We can start redecorating tomorrow.  First thing's first...we have to break the news to Magmeth."

R'tan's eyes gleamed with humor, "May I?  I can't wait to see the look on her face when she hears about the baby drool.  Our kid is going to crawl all over her and her hide will never be clean again.  Just watch.  It's OURS so...you know he's going to have more courage than sense.  And will be swinging a sword before she learns to walk."

[Arcane]

Late Fall, 2767, High Reaches Weyr- Homework Hour (Repost)

"So this one's A.  See?" D'ark asked as he carefully traced the letter for Dobby.  They were in his weyr, by the table he'd set aside for all the paperwork currently piled on him.  Dobby watched him with a rapt attention that left him feeling vaguely uncomfortable.

He was also pretty sure Dobby was wearing his socks.  Which was weird.  He didn't know where Dobby had GOTTEN his socks.  But when he'd tried asking Dobby had just offered them back.  And given him a look that made D'ark feel guilty enough to just drop the subject.

D'ark probably shouldn't have offered to do this.  He didn't have the time to give Dobby the entire education he'd missed and wasn't a Harper anyway.  The last thing he wanted was yet more work he wasn't qualified to do.

But...it had been L'ron who had brought Dobby to the weyr and claimed to be fostering him while doing nothing of the sort.  Dobby had told D'ark all about it over a cup of wine.  Complete with burping.  It seemed table manners were also on the list of "things Dobby did not know".

Dobby seemed utterly loyal to L'ron.  But the more D'ark heard...the more sick he felt.  How could his father have done this?  He'd known he was a traditionalist but...there was a different between tradition and a crime.  And this was the latter.  What else his father had done...he shuddered to think.  How had the proper way become so corrupted?

It seemed everyone D'ark should have looked up to was doomed to disappoint him.  He was a failure from a line of monsters who would have seen M'love reduced to this.

So what else could he do but try to be better?  Even if it was a nuisance and Dobby kept looking at him like he held all the answers in the world and crowing about how clever he was.  His father had done wrong.  D'ark had to fix it.  He would teach Dobby everything he needed to know to be a true candidate.  And then the ledgers would be a little closer to balanced.

And while he'd never admit it...Dobby was growing on him a bit.  He actually listened when D'ark talked and seemed to think he was doing just fine.  It was nice to have his efforts appreciated.

[Arcane]

Letters Sent and Received (Repost)

Left at the entrance to the Council Chamber of High Reaches, written in a neat hand and sealed with wax in High Reaches' colors, embossed with the weyr's emblem:

I, Jaelynn of High Reaches, daughter of Caralyn of High Reaches, formerly rider of Green Jaeth (deceased), would like to formally petition this council to grant the non-bonded population a seat amongst their ranks.  It is unjust that riders should have 4 seats on this hallowed body while the majority of the weyr has no elected representative to voice their unique concerns.  Our allies to the South have a Steward who holds equal rank to the Weyrleader and Wherleader of Semaca.  In the interest of stability and equality, I urge this body to grant our own Lower Caverns the same privilege.

This letter was carried to Al'une of Telgar Weyr by his firelizard, written in a familiar hand.  All names are carefully omitted in case of interception.

Brother,

I cannot thank you enough for all you have done.  My dragon and I are safe, away from Benden and amongst people who I am not quite sure are friends, but don't seem to be enemies either.  I do not know where we will go from here or what we will do when we get there.  Now, I mostly wait, for my dragon to recover enough to walk freely again under a clear blue sky.  I am sure that if you wish to find me, you will.  You always have before.  If knowing where I am will cause problems between you and your leadership, don't search for me.  You've done enough.  You've given me a chance and now it is up to me to make of it what I will.

But I fear I must ask one last favor of you.  I left behind our parents and our sister, Unay.  I have not seen them in many turns and do not know how they have fared in my absence, but unless Unay has Impressed a queen or bronze of her own (a prospect I find doubtful, as, thank Faranth, I have never seen her face amongst my tormenters), I suspect our leaders will harm them to get revenge on me or use them as leverage to force my return.  I am still too weak to seek them out myself, but I know better than anyone that you have done the impossible before.  Please, save them, for me, yourself and them.  I am sure you will agree that our innocent kin should not suffer for what we have done.

All the best,
Your sister

A runner coming to Fort Weyr carries a crumpled letter from High Reaches Weyr

Dear whoever cares,

I Impressed.  2nd time, first dragon.  We're not coming back.  So don't wait for us.  Sorry.  You SHOULD miss me.  Tell my mom I'm going to be a better rider than she ever was and my brother, friends and whoever else is around that next time they see me, they'd better be nice to me or I'll make Kibeth bite them.

Kibeth sends her best too.  Or something.

Sincerely,
Kanon of Green Kibeth

A letter is brought to Loki by a particularly irritable blue firelizard, who gives him a hiss as he leaves

Dear brother,

I have heard tales of your Impression and wish to offer you my felicitations and fondest hopes for your future as a rider.
I wish I could have been there to see, but my Hinokath remains on the sands and I cannot leave her unattended.
Know that I am proud to call you brother and hope to see your dragon with my own eyes soon.  Know also that you are welcome here at Fort any time you so desire.

With the fondest of regards,
Thor of Blue Hinokath, Weyrling of Fort Weyr

A letter is sent back via Amora, as Mjolnir continues to attack Loki on sight.

Dear brother, sister or whatever you wish to be called today,

I will indeed share the entire tale.  Or Hinokath will.  She says my recollections tend to exaggeration.  Also- she asks me to forewarn you, that unlike me, she is wise to your tricks.  I have told her such caution is unnecessary as you are an honorable Asgardian and while not my blood, very much my family.

It would be an honor to host both you and Rivoth for the hatching!  In fact, I insist you come.  It simply would not be the same without you.  My mentor, A'lin of Bronze Tasikheth, has agreed to convey you with all haste when the egg begins to hatch.  You may trust them both.  They have been excellent teachers to Hinokath and know I would be most displeased should any harm befall you.

I have not heard from father as is to be expected after my disobedience and crimes against Asgard.  But why has he shunned you?  Surely he knows you were not to blame.

Hoping to see you soon, your brother,
Thor of Blue Hinokath

Three letters arrive via the daily mail.

Dear Kairi,

How are you and Shiloth doing?  I'm not quite sure how to begin this letter. I promised you I wouldn't be gone long and I fear I accidentally lied.  I have Impressed, a white named Taissath.  She is wonderful and I cannot wait for you to meet her.  It only saddens me that this will delay my homecoming for a time.  She cannot be separated from her siblings until she finishes weyrlinghood and I would do nothing to harm her.

I am so, so sorry.  But Taissath is worth it.  Wait for me, please- and I will be back with you and Sora someday. Then, we will all be riders together and it will be just as we've dreamed.  Maybe we can even all share a wing, since we will be whiteriders together.

Don't worry- Taissath is not vicious or violent.  A bit sarcastic at times, but good.  You'll like her.  I promise.  And you don't need to be afraid to have her around your Shiloth.

Your friend, always,
Riku of White Taissath

Dear Sora,

Hey Sora!  You won't believe this but it finally happened!  I found her.  My Taissath.  She's a white, just like your partner and Kairi's, and the prettiest white you've ever seen. You're going to love her.

This does mean I'm going to have to wait a bit to kick your ass at sword fighting, but we're still on.  Come to Fort any time you'd like and I'll show you what I can do.  Bring Kairi if you can!  A turn and a half is too long to go without seeing you two and it'll be a while until we can go between.  I do want you both to meet Taissath though!

...Maybe not Saupeth until she's a little bigger though.  She's a bit snarky sometimes and still kind of clumsy and fragile and Saupeth is...Saupeth.

Hurry up and visit!
Riku of White Taissath

Dear Miloresh,

I Impressed!  To the hatchling from the pretty flower egg, one of Xiometh's. Her name is Taissath and she's a white.

I guess this means we aren't going to be roommates...but I hope we can still be friends.  I'm going to come back to High Reaches someday, when Taissath's old enough.  Maybe by then, you'll be a rider too.  I definitely recommend the traveling around thing!

This is kind of embarrassing but...any chance you can send my stuff?  I don't actually have most of my socks and underwear because I wasn't really expecting to be staying here for long...Oops.

Your friend,
Riku of White Taissath

A letter arrives at a cothold that hasn't heard from the whiterider in question since he Impressed a certain shiny dragon.  The message is short and roughly scrawled, as if written in a rush.

Dad, Ranalei and Ranask,

My weyrmate and I are having a baby.  Just figured you should know.  You can come visit once she's born if you'd like. At Semaca.  There are spotties but we can both fight.  It'll be fine.  We're naming him Vardan if he's a boy, Ranna if she's a girl.  I asked Varda to ask the healers which it is but they don't know.  Seems like they should, right?  I'd ask her dragon Magmeth but she's kind of prickly as has been sulking ever since she found out.  Although she did stop ignoring us long enough to say we should name her Magmella so...A girl maybe?

Letters Never Sent

The remnants of this letter are tossed in the dying embers of a certain garnetrider's hearth.  The envelope has no name or destination.  A drudge tucks it away in his pocket while cleaning the weyr.

Father,

Where did you go?  How did you just leave me?  Why didn't you take me with you?  I've wondered for turns, really. Ever since you disappeared.  I know you're an important man and a bronzerider...but I'm your son.  Maybe you have other children now, brothers and sisters I'll never meet.  Why couldn't you at least have said good-bye?

I've Impressed.  Garnet Masreith.  More than four turns ago, actually.  Maybe you already know.  Was that why you never came back?  She's everything you always wanted from my dragon- strong, demanding, a born leader.  She has two daughters now, green Kibeth and garnet Astralaeth.  Astralaeth and her rider are going to be in my wing.

I have a weyrmate now.  Her name is Tanlek but she prefers M'love.  Her dragon, blue Skyloth, is Masreith's mate. She was injured in the last threadfall but the healers promise she'll recover.  I'm going to ask her to marry me once she does.  I knows it's not the rider way but...I want a real family.  Children.  The same woman, THIS woman, sleeping besides me every night. I don't think you'd like her very much at all, which is perhaps the best recommendation she could have.  I love her very much.

You've probably heard that I've recently become a wingsecond.  Maybe you're proud.  You shouldn't be.  I'm absolutely hopeless.  Faranth...I wish you were here.  You'd know what to do.  You always did.  Another wingsecond, Chekov, is trying to help but...I don't think I can do this.  And no matter how hard I try, no one else will volunteer to take my place.  I'm going to get them all killed.

I don't know why I'm even writing this.  You're probably dead by now anyway and I wouldn't know where to send it even if you were alive.  I just...need you.  How could you leave?  I always needed you...

The letter trails off into smudges and is left unsigned.

[Arcane]

Late Spring 2766, Semaca Weyr (Repost)

Sage watched the fighting with wide eyes, from the back of the candidate crowd.  This had been a mistake.  Coming here.  Trying this.  She missed her kitchen.  Her nice warm, peaceful, quiet kitchen where she had a pile of exotic fruits fresh from Mazurka to experiment with.  Another egg hatched, the little brown mostly overlooked in the uproar, even as he kept hitting people as he ran and scurried.

Excuse me, coming through, out of my way...Got a brawl to flee, he growled impatiently as he squirmed his way through, not caring at all who he trampled over.  How did Sage know that?  Oh no...Oh no...This was...not good.  Her dragon was hurting people!  And going to get stepped on!

She ran forward and grabbed him, running off the sands as fast as she could manage.  They could go find a nice, safe place together.

Well I'm glad you've got some brains to you.  Name's Wisketoth! Let's go eat and let the rest of 'em deal with whatever they're fighting over without us!

An idea Sage could heartily endorse.  They were going to do just fine together, she thought.  And she'd make him a nice gourmet snack with those special fruits later.  Because who deserved them more than her own dragon?

---

Sage was terrified, curled as far back in the corner as she could get, where the gold and the whers and whoever else decided to come down to the sands next couldn't see her.  She wrapped her body around her dragon, who was just as happy to hide.  He didn't care what the gold did or didn't do, so long as food kept coming.  But Sage...Sage cared.  She didn't want to die.  She didn't want Wisketoth to die.  And she most certainly did NOT want to go Benden and die for Nuuth.

Calm down.  No one's going to Benden and dying for Nuuth.  And here I thought you had half a brain, the brown grumbled, nudging her to keep the food coming, Just 'cause they tell us to do it doesn't mean we've got to listen.  That gold comes back here?  I vote we run.  Fast.  Can't make us go to Benden if they can't find us now, can they? Sure, the brown could fight but with this civilian in tow?  Better to run and wait for a chance to set up an ambush.

Sage nodded frantically.  Yes, that was a good plan.  A very, very, VERY good plan.  She decided then and there she absolutely adored her dragon.  And wished only that he had been born in another clutch, where they wouldn't have to share a class with at least two dragons that seemed hatched to make trouble.

[Arcane]

Early Summer 2766, High Reaches Weyr (Repost)

The egg hatched far too slowly with way too much sniffing.  Ew morning breath!  Why couldn't the thing just get it over with?

And when it did hatch, what did it have to look so happy about anyway?  It was stuck here now, with all these losers.  And it was morning.  Stupid dragon.

A stupid dragon that was getting way too close to her.  Kanon backed away, scowling.  Oh no!  She wasn't get bitten again.  Especially after everyone last time had been mean to her and acted like it was all her fault.

That was when a voice rang in her head, very, very loudly.  Far too loudly for pre-sunrise, KANON. Come, now, stop looking about with that awful look on your face and come feed me, your Kibeth. No arguments now.

Kanon glared.  Awful look?  What the forsk did this Kibeth mean awful look?  Kanon was charming, Faranth forsk it, and this hatchling was blessed, BLESSED, to get to see her gorgeous face.

Since I can hear you and you say you're mine, I'm gonna go ahead and say I'm your rider, Kanon thought back with a smirk, straightening herself just a bit as she touched the dragon, almost defiantly.  Her own dragon wouldn't bite her now, would she?  Sure, she wasn't a gold or a garnet, but the only reason Kanon HADN'T gotten a gold was because this green had gotten to her first.  She could work with a green.  Weren't they supposed to be naturally dim and enjoy taking orders? Which means I'm in charge of you.  So ask me again.  Nicely.

Kibeth stared at her and then, just as deliberately, put her teeth on her hand.  Not hard enough to break the skin but...Didn't I say no arguments?  That sounds like an argument.  Feed me or else.

Kanon pulled her hand back with a scowl.  She didn't want this one.  There was something wrong with it!  Her dragon was broken!  What on Pern had she done to deserve this?  She wasn't moving!  Kibeth could go try to feed herself until she crawled back in defeat, ready to lick Kanon's boots and praise her glory.  Instead, Kibeth bit her robe and started tugging.  And then, when Kanon had finally resigned herself to letting the green do all the work...Kibeth stopped.  Just stopped.

On second thought, this is a lovely spot.  Why don't we stay here and I'll accuse you of neglecting me?Then someone else will feed me as much as I want and you can clean latrines for a sevenday.  It would be good for you I think to learn some humility.

Forsk it!  This thing was definitely broken!  Kanon walked off, a sweet smile on her face as she grabbed the bowl.  And stayed where she was.  Waiting for Kibeth to come to her.  If this was war...then the green had chosen the wrong candidate to mess with.

"Come here, sweet Kibeth.  I know you're ashamed to be carried but...You really must get off the sands," Kanon cooed with saccharine sweetness.  She tapped her foot and waited.  The green stared back.  So be it.  Kanon could do this all day.

[Arcane]

Early Summer, 2766, Fort Weyr (Repost)

T'rin/Celeth

It was one of their eggs that hatched first.  The calmer of the two small ones.  Sleepbringer T'rin believed Artesiath had named it.  There was a green inside, a small one.  She didn't run or jump like other dragons.  Just sat there.  Watching.  Studying.  Was she afraid?  Or merely thoughtful?  Taking a deep breath, T'rin stepped out of the shadow of Celeth's wings and walked towards her dragon's child, who was starting to move slowly across the sands, the brown shadowing her every step.

It could be dangerous, approaching a hatchling that was not hers, but something about this dragon seemed kind.  Peaceful.  Not a killer.  She knelt just a bit away, "Are you alright, little one?  Do you need help?"

Celeth nuzzled her, licking off some of the egg goo as father and daughter spoke mind to mind for the first time, Whatever you need, it will be provided.  You have a mother and father and two riders who love you very much.

But there was only one thing she needed.  And so, as she left the sands and started her fumbling hatchling way up onto the lowest, Celeth ordered, Numann.  Did you not hear my daughter call your name?  Come down now.  Or I will carry you down.

T'rin raised a hand to hush him and waited for this one called Numann to arrive.  Whoever Numann was.

Numann

Numann's breath hitched as the first egg began to rock.  A small one.  She didn't move from her shell as the sun caressed her green hide without brightening it.  She just looked.  From one candidate to the next.  Picking one to maul?  No...for some reason, he couldn't even think it of this one.  But whatever she was looking for...She didn't seem to find it.

And then she did.  She started to walk, not towards a candidate, but towards the stands, a monster of a brown and an odd fae woman trailing her steps.

Don't be afraid.  He won't hurt you.  My father is a good dragon who wishes only to protect me.

Never had Numann's thoughts sounded as sweet.  Or made as little sense.  His father wasn't a dragon!  The mere thought...

Numann.  Did you not hear my daughter call your name?  Come down now.  Or I will carry you down. The thought was light also, and smooth and high, but the imperiousness of it made him stiffen.  It couldn't be...He wouldn't let it be...

The brown moved to walk, but the woman stopped him, "You'll frighten him.  H-he's scared.  Like I was...Just tell me which one Numann is and I'll find him for you.  It's better that way.  Trust me." She was too far away for him to hear...And yet it was as if Numann was standing right besides her.  She started to walk towards him and offered him her hand, as cold, hard terror clenched in his gut.  He shook his head.

"No, no, no..." he mumbled.  This couldn't be happening.  Not to him.  Not to his family.  Hadn't they suffered enough?  How could he bring into their family one of the monsters that had killed Naveed?  How could he ever become what Naveed had died trying to be?

Do you really think this is what your brother would want?

No matter how hard he pressed his hands to his ears, the voice kept coming.  He was too shell-shocked to resist as the girl laid a tentative hand on his arm and started to pull him down.

"C-Celeth did drag me back to the sands...When we Impressed.  I thought...I thought it'd better if I came instead.  You...you shouldn't have to Impress like that."

He didn't want to Impress at all.  But the dragon was waiting.  Rannath was waiting.  He knew her name the moment her eyes met his.  He knew she was good and pure.  He knew that he hated her.  He knew he would never deserve her.  And he knew she understood all that and loved him anyway, as she placed her head on his leg and he picked her up and ran.  Away from the brown.  Away from the danger.  He might never want her...but he couldn't leave her to bleed out the way his brother had.  She might only be a dragon but...she was his.  She hummed with something like pleasure as he sat with her, as far away from everything else as he could get, and she peered into the darkest recesses of his heart.

So much pain... her voice was gentle still, soothing as a cool stream, But I'm here now.  You don't have to hurt any more.

He clung to the hurt, refused to let her dull it.  It was all he had left of Naveed.  How could he ever let it go?  Even for the dragon that looked at him with rainbows in her eyes.


From the sounds, Numann figured another dragon had hatched and Impressed.  He didn't look.  Wouldn't look.  It was looking that had gotten him into this mess...Nix was right.  He should have just kept his distance.  But it was too late.  Now, he had to protect Rannath.  Keep her from meeting his brother's fate.  He wondered if he could carry her back to the stands with him...And then maybe they could run away together, to a hold, where there were no other dragons around.  Nix and his parents would never speak to him again regardless and there at least...they could be safe.

Rannath cleared her throat delicately, It's okay, Numann.  Saraneth will not harm me.   I am sorry to disturb you but... Her stomach grumbled and Numann felt the echo in his own belly.  Of course she was hungry.  He'd better feed her before she decided one of the candidates looked like food...

Rannath looked at him aghast, Of course I wouldn't!  I'd sooner starve.  Oh Numann...what have you done to yourself?  You never spoke to a mindhealer...did you?

Numann didn't answer, instead he started slowly edging towards Lexien, staying as far away as he possibly could from any other dragon on the sands.  Fortunately, a man in greenrider's knots saw him and herded him over, away from the chaos.  His eyes were kind as he placed a bowl of meat in Numann's hands, "Congratulations.  She's lovely.  What's her name?"

"Rannath," Numann grumbled, as Rannath began to feed.  The blood on his hands dripped to the hatching sands.  He closed his eyes and waited for it all to be over.

The greenrider put a soothing hand on his back, "Come.  I can find a quiet room for you two if you're feeling overwhelmed.  You can meet your new classmates later.  I know this must have come as quite the shock.  I was a stands Impression myself.  But give it time. You'll be better for it and so will she."

Numann could only nod, grateful beyond reason for the slight reprieve.

T'rin

The next one was from the other clutch.  Thank Faranth.  T'rin could retreat behind Celeth's wing and tremble in terror.  She could hardly believe what she'd done- going up and dragging a strange man onto the sands, apparently very much against his will.  But someone had had to do it.  She knew what it felt like to be so afraid.  And Celeth's daughter needed her rider.

You did very well, the brown praised with an affectionate nuzzle, But I do not like that human of Rannath's...We will have to watch that one carefully.

That, Celeth could do on his own.  T'rin was sure the human would be fine, once he had more than half a second to come to terms with his change in fortunes.

Numann

Rannath ate delicately and carefully, out of sight of everyone.  The greenrider, L'ir, who said he was some sort of teacher, kept telling them all about the other dragons and what wonderful classmates they would be.  But everything Numann heard just made him feel sicker and sicker.  Two browns...This clutch had two browns.  These hadn't mauled anyone but...It was only a matter of time.  He could never leave Rannath alone with them.  Already, he saw how soft she was.  How gentle.  He couldn't let her die too.  He would have to protect her from her brothers' jaws.  Whether he wished her to be his or no...She didn't deserve to die.

And you deserve to be happy again.  We will get through this.  Together.

But Numann wasn't sure they would.  He was disgusted by her.  By the world.  By himself.  He was the monster now.  But there were bigger monsters.  He was about to call them classmate.

[Arcane]

Early Fall, 2766, Fort Weyr (Repost)

His dragon hatched right onto his lap.  He was indeed the first thing she saw in this world, as she stared back with rainbow eyes, a tiny garnet.  Sakuyath.  He knew the name as if it was his own.

Oooh... the voice came from inside his mind and he didn't even notice the thick egg goo soaking his robe, Is that what you look like? That's very different than what I thought. You're kinda funny.

And he couldn't even be offended.  Because she'd remembered him and been waiting for him and imagining just what he would be like, just as he'd been dreaming of her.  He wrapped his arms around her, staring right back, memorizing her every feature, You're not what expected either.  I...thought you were going to be bronze...

She made an odd sound, almost like a laugh, as she settled contentedly into Ly'nk's arms, And why'd you think that, silly?

Uh...cause bronzes are big and fierce.  And you're going to be fierce! Because you're my dragon and I'm fierce!

Sakuyath gave her strange almost-laugh again, as if that was the funniest thing she'd ever heard, Oh, you're VERY funny!  Don't worry, Ly'nk, I'm sure you'll be plenty fierce enough for both of us.

And in that moment...He couldn't even mind.  Because she loved him.  Someone, this beautiful, precious, garnet dragon, wanted him most.

Of course I love you best!  You love me best too...right?

Ly'nk nodded enthusiastically.  Of course he did!  How could he not?  She was HIS.  He hoped F'lynn saw this and realized he didn't need them anymore.  He didn't need anyone anymore.  He had Sakuyath.  He told her honestly, You and my ma are all I have...Ma's had someone else she loves more for a while.  And now I have you.

Sakuyath's eyes turned blue-purple with delight and she said, almost apologetically, I'm sorry, Ly'nk...but I'm VERY hungry.

Oh right!  Of course!  His dragon needed to be fed.  He ran her over to the meat buckets, staying as FAR as he could from Quatre and Maze.  He announced proudly, "I'm Ly'nk and this is Sakuyath.  She's MINE."

[Arcane]

Early Fall, 2766, Fort Weyr (Repost)

This blue was smaller than the other, Thor noted as soon as he cracked shell.  Closer in size to his green sisters.  While the other dragonets had seemed to know precisely who they wanted, this one looked over all assembled, getting close enough to a few that Thor feared a mauling.  But he didn't appear poised for violence.  More...evaluating.  The blue gave Thor the same cursory examination as all the others before continuing on, giving each and every candidate a careful evaluation.

And then he turned back again, trotting along with more determination, as he sat down right in front of Thor, a teeny blue dragon with eyes that stayed serious even as they swam with rainbows, Thor. I have chosen. Please, let us go. The others are waiting for us.

Thor beamed down at this tiny, precious one, scooping him into his arms without hesitation.  He might be small now but he would grow!  And if not...well they'd make it work.  It mattered not.  This blue had found him worthy and he would strive to avoid disappointing him.

"Of course!  We shall obtain nourishment immediately, small blue.  There is no need to be formal with me.  I swear to you, I will be whatever you require."

You may address me as Hinokath.  And...I AM in fact capable of walking.

"Indeed!" Thor grinned, without putting Hinokath down.  He waved to Oslovar, "My friend...I am afraid the time has come when I must entrusted the safety of these people to you.  Fair Hinokath has need of me."

You do realize that we're already Impressed, yes?  And that fair is usually a term reserved for girls?

"And my dearest friends," Thor informed him.  For of course, his dragon must be his dearest friend.  It could not be otherwise.

He waved a cheerful hello to Lexien and the rest of the new weyrlings.  For some reason, Hinokath seemed...awkward around the weyrlingmaster's brown, his usual self-possession giving way to a brief fidget, before he finally looked the brown in the eye and said, Hello.  Blue Hinokath, at your service.  What seems to be the problem today, sir?  Shall we engage in gentlemanly conversation?  Or a bit of investigative work?

Uh...even THOR knew that that didn't make a whole lot of sense...

There's no chance you're going to put me down now, is there?

Of course not!  The sands could burn his precious little feet.  Thor would protect him!  From everything!

I'm a dragon, remember?

So?  Dragons could still get burned feet.

No...not really...

[Arcane]

Late Spring, 2767, High Reaches Weyr (Repost)

The egg to which Fate had steered Thendou was amongst the smallest in the sands. A green mayhaps a white if rumors spoke true. But what a glorious one it would be. Every shake of the egg bespoke an understanding of its own consequence and an innate knowledge in how to draw the gaze of an audience. Thendou stepped forward. This was no fluke of chance. This was his dragon. He felt it in his bones.

And then it cracked and lo- what a dragon it was. Not a green at all or even a blue but the fairest brown Thendou has ever beheld. Perfectly formed and with markings meant to linger in the memory of all who beheld him. Truly Fate was as kind as she was inscrutable because the humblest of eggs had birthed a creature of true grandeur.

A creature who knew exactly where he belonged. He hesitated just long enough to put on a show, stopping besides Thendou in a pose he would have to immortalize in canvas as soon as he was able.

He smiled as he heard his dragon's voice in his head. Pavith. His dragon was Pavith. And he was Th'ou. Because there would be no new-fangled full name for him. Th'ou understood the value of tradition.

Tell me Pavith. How do you feel about portraiture?

That this beauty must be shared with the world.

Yes. They were going to do very well together indeed. He turned to his siblings as he left and declared, "I always told you Fate loved me best."

At it seemed his destiny was grander than he had ever dared to dream. How could it be anything but with a dragon like Pavith. He greeted his new classmates with a dignified wave and announced himself by his full name for the first time, "Th'ou of brown Pavith at your service."