Nine's Noodlings

[nineofswords]

FAILURE IN LOVE - G'las and Quenith

G'las had had to cut short a flight tryst as her green came rocketing back into the weyr screaming his name. G'las had sighed, excused herself, and trudged up to his weyr, not bothering to try talking sense into her excitable green until he could look the silly creature in the eye.

She marched into his weyr to see the green keening on her ledge, making a nuisance of herself to all their neighbors. Without missing a beat, G'las grabbed a stone off her dressing table and sat out on Quenith's ledge. "Give me your head, love," he said, sounding a bit resigned.

With several pitiful sounds, Quenith lowered as much of her head as she could fit onto G'las's lap. G'las began to slowly rub the rock in circles on Quenith's head. It was Quenith's favorite rock, one that scratched the itches on her hide without being too rough, and it warmed up quickly between G'las's body heat and Quenith's. And G'las found that using the rock to rub soothing circles on Quenith was less stressful on her hands than massaging the green's hide with his fists alone.

I'm never chasing again, Quenith moaned. It was horrible. No one looked at me once the entire time, and Ustreilith didn't even pick me. Me! I was by far the most beautiful dragon in the air with her, and she wouldn't even look at me!

"That's the problem with golds," G'las said consolingly. "They're vain. She probably didn't want a mate more beautiful and graceful in the air than she was."

But it's not fair! Quenith wailed, completely ignoring G'las's consoling words. She didn't want to be consoled. She wanted to wallow in misery. I've never chased before! She should've known and been honored that I deigned to join after her!

"She really should've," G'las agreed. "No taste. The young have no taste whatsoever." This was why G'las was such a good human, probably the best human. She understood Quenith just needed to be sad and deserved some pampering and was more than happy to oblige. At least someone in this weyr understood how to treat a green as magnificent as Quenith!

G'las was just managing not to laugh in his poor, rejected green's face. She'd been shot down by potential hookups more times than he cared to count, and she knew how much it hurt. Especially when someone wasn't used to it. And his green had never chased before, so of course she'd never had to experience rejection before. It was hard to cope with, but G'las couldn't help remembering how just a little earlier that same day, Quenith had taken to the skies after Ustreilith claiming that G'las didn't appreciate her enough. She loved his silly, mercurial little green. She'd probably give her a good bath later, too, because Quenith would almost certainly forget her woes once she was able to preen at her own reflection.

For the moment, though, G'las was content to just sit and listen as this silly creature cried and felt sorry for herself. And he definitely was not laughing as she did so. No matter how funny she found this particular tantrum.

[nineofswords]

BRONSON & APOLLINE - A Bright Destiny

His mother had gotten him a flit egg. Before he'd left for the Weyr, she'd pressed it into his hands, safely bundled in a little bucket of warm sand. They were expensive things, more expensive than sensible for her to get. But she'd bought one for him, and she'd bought the largest one of its clutch, too. It had almost been enough to move him to tears, except that boys didn't cry. They did hug their mothers goodbye, though.

It would take a few days before the egg would finally hatch, and by then he was as settled into the candidate barracks as he could be. He noticed the egg starting to wobble and had quickly run and gotten some scraps from the kitchens. When he got back, the egg still didn't look quite ready to hatch, so he made a blanket fort so he'd have some semblance of privacy if his roommate walked in.

And the flit still hadn't broken through its shell yet. He huffed. "You sure are keeping me waiting," he grumbled at it. "You better be worth it to make me wait so long." He scowled as he considered that. Girls were always late, weren't they? He really hoped it wasn't a girl in that egg. No, it couldn't be. Greens didn't come out of eggs that big. They didn't need that much space. And Garnets...he hoped it wasn't a Garnet. They were weird. But they were smaller than browns, so surely this thing couldn't be one, right? Again, it was a big egg!

He found himself getting more nervous the more the egg moved. This thing was hatching right as he was beginning his journey towards becoming a dragonrider. This would set the tone for his entire candidacy. If it did somehow have a green in there - or worse, a garnet - his candidacy would be cursed before it even started.

The snout that finally cracked through its shell had a metallic sheen to it, though, and Bronson let out a sigh of relief. A bronze. He knew it. No flit egg that big, no flit egg of his, could have anything less than a bronze in it.

As the firelizard slowly crawled its way out of its shell, though, he quickly realized his mistake. It wasn't bronze, the sheen was far too yellow, undeniably so. Slowly, a smile spread across Bronson's face. "No wonder you took so long," he said. "I s'pose if you're a gold, I can overlook the fact that you're a girl. And that you made me wait so long." He quickly started shoveling food into her expectant maw. "Yeah yeah yeah. I got you all the meat you can handle. Don't you worry."

Despite his words, he was starting to worry that he'd run out of meat for the little thing. She was eating so much. Was that normal? But abruptly, she crawled into his lap and passed out, a small scrap of meat still hanging from her mouth. "Well that's not very ladylike," he pointed out to the sleeping flit. She just started to snore quietly. It was...honestly it was cute, but he'd deny he'd ever thought that with his dying breath. He had some water handy, so he dampened the tail of his shirt and wiped off some of the meat juices from the golden creature's mouth, gently pulling the meat scrap away from her teeth. He was able to lift her head even, and she didn't even stir.

He shook his head. "Well, hopefully you learn some manners as you get older," he said. "But you were just born, so I suppose I can let it slide just this once." She just slept on, her stomach moving slowly up and down as she breathed. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from her. She was absolutely perfect. And she was his. Yes, his candidacy was going to be extraordinary.

[nineofswords]

NOW AND FUTURE BABIES - Dani & Bladeth

Finally - finally! - a caravan had come to High Reaches that had flit eggs. They were all so precious, Dani couldn't decide, so Bladeth picked one out for her. He charmed the traders while Dani paid for the egg and carefully carried it back to the weyr. Once she had it settled, Bladeth watched it day and night, brooding over it like a gold might. He claimed it was because he didn't want it to hatch and disappear on them, wasting Dani's hard-earned marks, but really he was excited for a flit as Dani was.

It was early in the morning and Dani was groggily getting klah from the dining hall when she heard her bronze call out to her: Dani! It's happening! The hatching! Bring meat scraps!

For a second, Dani's brain wouldn't process that properly. What hatching? The sands were empty. And why did Bladeth thing she should be responsible for bringing the meat? But then her brain caught up, and her eyes went wide. She scrambled into the kitchen and asked breathlessly for meat scraps. It took a few tries for the kitchen staff to understand what she was asking for - she really was all but useless before her klah - but eventually they understood.

Bladeth kept yelling at her to hurry, and Dani went as quickly as she could hauling a bucket of scrap meat. 'Hold on, I'm coming,' she grumbled silently back. 'I am going as fast as I can,'

Well be faster! This egg won't wait forever!

'It also won't hatch in seconds. We have time,' she reminded the big silly bronze, but she did pick up the pace a little more. She was red-faced and puffing by the time she got the heavy bucket all the way back up to the weyr. "Remind me why we picked a weyr so high up in the wall?" she complained, setting the meat bucket down.

Hurry up and get over here! Bladeth urged, ignoring her need to breathe. Dani sighed and hauled the bucket the last few feet to where the egg was tucked away.

Despite all of Bladeth's fussing, the egg still took quite a while to hatch. It was a luxurious thing, taking its time, and when it did finally crack, the tail was the first thing to burst through. Dani giggled. "You're coming out backwards, you silly thing," she said, but didn't move to help. The flit would figure itself out without her help, and odds were good she'd just get bit for her troubles.

The little flit was methodical about breaking out, moving its tail to widen the hole and then opening it further with its feet. Dani was reserving judgement on its color until the little thing finally finished emerging, and when it did, backing carefully out of its shell, Dani squeeled. "Bladeth! Bladeth she's a gold! We're going to get to see so many babies!"



Hurry up and feed her before she disappears! Bladeth stressed at her, and Dani started offering meat to the flit. She was as delicate with eating as she had been coming out of her shell, although she ate a little more quickly than she'd emerged. "What a precious little thing," Dani cooed. "What should we call her?"

Bladeth gave that serious consideration. Ceecee, he finally decided.

"Ceecee," Dani agreed. "It's perfect. Just like her."

Dani finished stuffing the little gold full of food, and then Ceecee happily crawled onto Bladeth's front paw, which was in a particularly bright patch of sunlight. She passed out and started snoring. Dani curled up against Bladeth, and they both stared lovingly at the tiny creature before inadvertently falling asleep themselves. It was absurdly early, after all.

[nineofswords]

A Musing On Gender - A letter from G'las to Daphne

A few days after Daphne had been settled into her new living quarters, a letter arrived for her. The paper was simple but of good quality, the handwriting neat but not overly elaborate which some might find surprising, and the barest hint of perfume could be smelled on it.

[i]My dear, dear Daphne,

How are you, my darling? I wanted to extend my congratulations to you on becoming a dragonrider (as well as your exquisite curtseying and accessory choices) and to express my sympathies that it didn't go as you'd hoped. I'm sure you must be mortified about what happened, but you are hardly the first candidate to have such a response. The stories I could tell you, but I won't as you are not the sort of girl to delight in other's embarrassment. It is commonplace enough that you will hardly be a topic of conversation (for very long, at any rate) and by the time you have graduated it shall be all but forgotten. Please do not dwell on it. I assure you no one else will, and any who do are a boor and ought to be directed to me for appropriate reprimanding.

The true purpose of my writing you, however, was that I believe your distress during your impression came from the fact that your bonded is a bit on the masculine side. I have some rather extensive experience balancing the masculine and the feminine, and I hope I can provide you some insight in that matter, should you want it. If I'm overstepping, I deeply apologize, and you may finish reading here with all of my love and support and know that you are strong enough to come through this difficult time for you.

I know you wanted a dragon who was as ladylike and graceful as you, and while I understand that sentiment, I have a dragon that is quite similar to me. Too similar, at times, as it turns out. My Quenith is a wonderful partner, to be sure, but we both insist on looking our best at all times, and there are simply not enough hours in the day for us both to get our wish. As I am a dragonrider, I must prioritize Quenith's vanity over my own, as a dragon whose oilings have been neglected can cause far more problems and danger than my lack of makeup. I adore Quenith and wouldn't give her up for the world, but there are days where I wish I could go back to being selfish, to go back to the days when I didn't have to vie with her to be the center of attention. Quenith is perfection itself, but it turns out that perfection is exhausting in its own right.

I wish to tell you a bit more about my gender, as it is something of a balancing act, and I hope it'll offer you some insight into the balancing act you currently find yourself in. Most would suspect that I feel at my most masculine when I wear my riding leathers, and that when I am all dolled up it is because I am feeling feminine. This is not the case. I feel at my most masculine when my makeup is perfection, my hair is coiffed, I am in my finest gowns and highest heals, and am wearing as many jewels as I can without being tacky. I feel at my most feminine when I wear nothing at all, which I hope you don't find too shocking to hear. The reason for this, I suspect, is the the contrast. Dressing in a feminine manner helps me see more clearly the parts of myself that are more masculine. And when I see my more masculine form, it helps me to find the parts of my personality which are more feminine. Contrast, my dear, can help highlight the parts of ourselves we love the most. Your new bonded, gruff and masculine as he is, serves as an excellent contrast for your kind, and feminine personality. He highlights how very elegant you are. I do not think there is a dragon in all of Pern to match your femininity, so it was not overly surprising to me that no dragon tried.

I know that is little comfort for the moment. You are hardly the first weyrling to find the adjustment difficult, but it will get easier with time. These things often do. And there are plenty of riders who know what it is like who would be happy to help you. If you like, I can make some inquiries and introduce you to some who would be able to understand your situation and help you in adjusting.

Love from your friend,

G'las

[nineofswords]

An Incomplete List Of The Thousand And One Ways I'll Never Say I Love You - Tsukasath about Yermie

• I called you Y'olai because Yermolai was a name you only ever heard when you were in trouble and you deserve a name you can hear without wincing
• I don't let other people bathe and oil me. I tell you it's because they're too rough or miss spots, but really it's because I don't want any hands but yours to touch me
• I never call you Yermie when I'm manipulating you. Only Y'olai. Yermie is who you are are your core, and I will not tarnish that with a half-truth
• I am always patient when you ask for explanations or clarifications. Even though you can read my mind, you often move so fast it's hardly a surprise you'll miss things sometimes
• Your happiness will always come before any machination. Even if it means being nice to people who are foolish
• You always move so fast, so I'll remind you to eat, to bathe, to talk to the people who love you, to make new friends. You deserve to have a life full of more than just running.

[nineofswords]

Just Be Patient, Sunshine - Eraelth and F'lin

Eraelth wasn't usually the picture of diplomacy, but she didn't usually snap quite so much at F'lin and Dusty's antics as she'd been doing lately. F'lin wasn't really the type to ask her what the problem was directly, though, so he mostly just ignored it. Eraelth would tell him if she had a problem with him specifically, after all. But when he came out of the storage huts one evening with extra oil to scrub down with and saw her pacing back and forth, her eyes aimed at the sky, her tail lashing and eyes swirling in irritation, he felt he could ask without risk of it starting an argument.

"What's going on up there that's got you so worked up?" he asked, heading towards the lake, knowing she'd follow.

Flights, Eraelth responded simply.

"Oh yeah, there have been a lot of greens and garnets rising lately," F'lin agreed. He didn't think it was any more than it usually was, but he didn't really pay attention to that kind of thing normally. As a weyrling, it was easier to just ignore that kind of thing until he'd graduated. "Why's it bothering you so much now?" he asked. "Don't tell me you're secretly a white or something," he added with a teasing tone.

It doesn't bother me, she snapped at him. I want to join in the chase, but I can't keep up yet, so there's no point.

"Oh? Oh," F'lin said, laughing at his own cluelessness as realization dawned. "Yeah, that's frustrating. But just a little longer now, and you can chase all the ladies your heart desires," he assured her. Because he was curious and because he wanted to take her mind off her own frustrated desires, he asked, "When you rise, do you want boy chasers, or only other girls?"

Eraelth's nose crinkled up a little in distaste. No offense to boys, she said, but there's no way I'm ever letting one of them catch me.

F'lin let out a loud bark of laughter at that. "Honestly,can't really say I blame you. Dragon boys seem like a lot sometimes." It was kind of fascinating that Eraelth knew that she already liked girl dragons pretty exclusively, especially since she was still too young to manage a whole flight yet. "Sorry if this is a stupid question, but if you like girls so much, why'd you pick me to be your partner? I mean, there were plenty of girl candidates on the stands. Shards, Bopeep was standing right next to me, after all."

Eraelth snorted. You're right, she said. That is a stupid question. Her tone was less snippy than it had been lately, the affectionate gruffness back in her voice, a clear willingness to tease and be teased.

F'lin beamed at her. "There's the little Rae of Sunshine who's been msising these past few weeks," he teased.

WHAT did you just call me? Eraelth demanded, horrified.

"What, Sunshine?" F'lin asked, grinning mischeviously. "C'mon, Rae, I think it suits you! I mean, before you my life was nothing but darkness! I was miserable, lost, alone, unloved - "

That's it. I'm finding Bopeep and seeing if she'll agree to be my new rider, Eraelth said, turning away from F'lin.

"Nooo, Raaae," F'lin whined, dropping the oil he'd gotten and his walking stick to grab onto one of her legs as if he could keep her from walking away. "I love you, don't leave meeee!"

She let out a huff, but turned to nuzzle F'lin so hard that he fell over. He laughed as he did. You are an absolutely ridiculous human, she complained. But I love you too. Now let's get to the lake so you can give me a bath. I itch.

"Whatever you say, Sunshine," F'lin said, getting back up and retrieving the things he'd dropped and happily trotting back towards the lake.

Your nicknames are the worst, she complained, but followed after him, her eyes now swirling with the greens and blues of a happy dragon.

[nineofswords]

Land, Sea, Sky - Tychon, Ezanath, and Tychon's father

Tychon was no stranger to hard work and long days, but ever since impressing it felt like a different kind of hard work and long days. He'd never felt quite so satisfied in hard work. Oh, he'd felt satisfied in his work of parting people from their possessions but that wasn't exactly hard, and he liked how labor shaped his body but it wasn't satisfying. Ezanath, though. Hard work meant for her? That was more satisfying than any con.

He was on his way to a lesson - and wasn't it so much less of a chore with Ezanath keeping him on track? - only running slightly behind because he'd decided to sleep in when he heard someone call his name: "Tyche?"

He turned, surprised at who it was, though he recognized his father's pet name for him instantly. "Dad," he said, blinking. "What are you doing here?"

His father raised an eyebrow. "You lose all your sailor's sense already, boy?" he asked. "We're always in Semaca around this time."

"Right," Tychon said, feeling his face get hot with embarrassment. He hid it with a scowl, crossing his arms. "Right. Guess I just lost track of time. Lot goin' on, and all."

"So I heard." His father's face softened slightly, and he looked a little embarrassed himself, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's...well. It's why I came all the way up here. Missed the hatching, but didn't feel right not to come see my boy and meet the dragon he gave up a life on the seas for." Ezanath had been waiting patiently at Tychon's side, and his father gestured. "This'll be your bird, then?"

"Aye, sir," Tychon said, reaching down to scratch under her horns. There were twigs and leaves stuck in them, from Cissy's attempts to build a nest in them. "My girl's name is Eza...Ezanath."

It is good to meet you, sire of my bond, Eza said, dipping her head.

"And you, bonder of my son," Tychon's father said, his mouth twitching a bit in a begrudging smile. "She's a pretty lass," he added to Tychon. "And impossible to miss. A perfect match for you, provided she's..." He gave Tychon a knowing look. "Approving of your lifestyle."

There is nothing Tychon does that I wouldn't approve of, Ezanath said. I can see everything in his mind. He follows his instincts and is very in tune with the natural world, more so than most. It is good and right.

"That's her way of saying she doesn't much mind the stealing," Tychon said with a smirk.

Material possessions are fleeting, and hoarding them does nothing to contribute to the rest of the natural world, Ezanath agreed. And these 'scams' as Tychon has described them, seem quite fun. I simply have to talk to people and they will be separated from their possessions. Simple. Natural. Elegant.

"Well that's something at least," his father said, looking vaguely amused. "Good to see you're not letting all of your skills rust away."

Tychon's expression instantly became thunderous. "Well we both know what you thought of my skills as a sailor," he growled. "So what does it matter if I let them rust away or not?"

"That wasn't..." Tychon's father pinched the bridge of his nose, taking deep breaths. "I never said you wouldn't be a good sailor," he said quietly, calmly. "But as my son, as the person I expected to hand off the Magpie's Eye to one day, there was a standard I needed to hold you to that I didn't others. But I'm sorry I made you feel like you weren't good enough."

"So you have said a hundred times, but it doesn't matter anymore anyway," Tychon growled.

Tyche, Eza said, her voice soft and for him alone, using the name his father had called him, sensing the affection he felt when he'd been called that and using it as balm on his anger. When your fathers' bones have crumbled to dust in the ground, will this argument matter? Will you be pleased at having pushed him away? I know you love him, Tyche, and now that you have me this argument serves no purpose. You have won. Can that be enough?

Tychon clenched his fists tightly, feeling the fire of anger deep inside him. Eza let it burn, not trying to put it out, but very slowly, she helped starve it of fuel until it was just embers, something that would only hurt a little if touched and nothing more. Slowly, he relaxed his fists. "It doesn't matter anymore," Tychon repeated, the ire gone from his voice now. "I...know you didn't mean to hurt me," he said. It was the closest he could get to apologizing, or to accepting his father's apology, and the relief in his father's eyes told Tychon he knew that. The wounds would need more time to heal, but...Eza was right. A sailor's life was dangerous, and Tychon would have precious little time with his father now that he was a rider. It was better to take advantage of every moment with the old man instead of nursing this grudge. But only because he was Tychon's father.

His father pulled him into a hug, and Tychon hugged him back just as fiercely.

"Eza, we're ditching lessons today," he said.

Do you want me to lie to the weyrlingmaster and tell him you have a stomach bug? the green offered helpfully, which made Tychon's father laugh.

Tychon scratched his girl's head affectionately. "Go ahead and tell them my father's come for a visit," he said. "If I get latrine duty, I get latrine duty, but better that than getting a double shift of it for lying about why I'm ditching."

"And what mischief do you have planned for me, boy?" Tychon's father asked, eyes dancing.

"Well, first I was thinking we should find Cissy," Tychon said. "She hates lessons, so she'll have flown off somewhere to amuse herself. Can't have fun without her, after all."

"Yeah, gotta make sure you're not neglecting her too badly just 'cause you've got a newer, greener bird to amuse you," Tychon's father said, giving him a nudge. His tone was gruff, but Tychon knew it as teasing.

Perhaps we can lay in a field of flowers and watch the clouds, Eza suggested happily.

"Aye, or p'haps we can run a scam like one of the ones Tychon's told you about," the pirate captain said.

"I thought you always told me not to shit where I ate," Tychon complained.

"Ain't my fault you decided to become sedentary, boy," his father rumbled back with a grin. " 'Sides, you're a rider now. What's the worst they're gonna do? Assign you some chores? Stick you in that squad for the rejects? We gotta show your newest girl the thrill of theft."

"Oh fine," Tychon said with a put-upon sigh, but his grin matched his father's. "If you're gonna twist my arm like that, s'pose I can't refuse. But I pick the mark."

"Naturally. You know this place better'n me, after all." The trio ambled towards Tychon's quarters, in search for a single small green bird in a sea of green on a perfect Semacan summer day, the father with his arm over his son's shoulders and the horned green leading the way. It really was a perfect day to get into just a little bit of trouble.

[nineofswords]

She's Gone. Better Learn How To Face It - Bre'q

For the first time since coming to Semaca, Bre'q dreamed of Dliqueth.

She'd often dreamed of Dliqueth. At first, in those first days and months after...after it happened, she'd mostly dreamed of their last moments together. Of the fear and the pain as they went down, and then of waking up without Dliqueth there in her head. Sometimes she'd dream of searching for something and only upon waking up realized she was looking for her missing bond. But Bre'q had been working with mindhealers for a while, and between that and time, Bre'q had started having better dreams about the white dragon. Dreams about how Dliqueth always insisted on putting everything in her mouth to 'figure it out' despite her eyes working just fine. Dreams about her inexplicable obsession with trying to swallow anything fish-shaped. Dreams about how she simply could not seem to understand exceptions, no matter how many times Bre'q had patiently explained them to her. Dreams of them lounging in the sun together, the dragon's musk thick in Bre'q's nose, of Bre'q scrubbing at Dliqueth's hide until it all but glowed.

Honestly, those dreams were almost worse than the nightmares. Because at least with the nightmares, she wouldn't wake up expecting Dliqueth to still be there in her mind. There was always a half second after waking from a good Dliqueth dream where Bre'q would reach out for the white and the hurt would hit her all over again, as sharp and raw as it had been when she'd woken in the infirmary that first time, when the tears had streaked down her face so long she'd thought they'd never stop until she was completely dry. It hurt so much, but the dreams were the only thing left of her, and Bre'q couldn't bear to think about what would happen when the dreams finally faded too.

This dream had been especially painful, though, because it had been about early on in their weyrling years. Dliqueth had still been young enough that Bre'q could manhandle her when needed. The strange child had gone and stolen an entire fish from the lower caverns, one nearly as big as Dliqueth herself had been, and was absconding with it, Bre'q and several lower caverns staff hot on her heels. In reality, they'd managed to catch Dliqueth. It had taken two people pinning her down and Bre'q physically prying her jaws open before they got the fish away from her, and the white had wailed about how unfair it all was, how she'd just wanted to swallow the fish. No assurances that it wouldn't have fit down her throat and would likely have hurt her very badly to try would dissuade Dliqueth from her belief it would've worked, nor could Bre'q figure out why it was so important that she do this. In the dream, though, Bre'q couldn't ever seem to catch up, always lagging farther and farther behind Dliqueth no matter how fast she ran, how hard she tried to catch up.

Bre'q woke from her dream quite suddenly, a shout dying in her throat before it ever quite got out. It would've been Dliqueth's name, and there was no point in calling out to her. She wasn't there. She would never answer again.

Bre'q knew she wasn't getting back to sleep after that, but the hour was an odd one, one where there likely wouldn't be much to do in the out-of-the-way places she preferred to work. She was too...emotional...after that dream, too on edge, to want to be around people, so she started trying to commit to memory some of the songs she'd written down that the sailors sang on the ship over. It would help her focus on something else until she was calm enough to go in the kitchens to scrub something or go to one of the many building projects in progress and hammer something. She didn't have to pretend to be anything when she was doing hard labor. She just wished people didn't insist on small talk before they'd hand her the brush or the tool and let her get on with things.

[nineofswords]

First Pet - Heiro

Heiro had never been allowed to have pets. Her parents had worried that any future suitors might not like whatever creature she'd called hers, and had discouraged any attempts to adopt or rescue wayward creatures. So it was probably understandable that it took her a bit longer than other candidates to realize that she didn't need to adhere to her parents rules anymore. It was with a fair amount of excitement (and just a bit of nervousness) that she bought a firelizard egg. In addition to being a fairly intelligent companion, it'd be good practice for having a dragon, and would give her a sense if it was a direction for her life that she was actually interested in.

She wasn't too worried about the egg hatching without her; she'd read about the process as well as asked others with flits how it had worked, so she knew the actual hatching would take a while. She kept an eye on it anytime she was in her quarters or had free time, so she noticed when spiderweb cracks appeared on its shell. She quickly retrieved meat scraps from kitchens and settled herself beside the bucket of sand to wait for the creature to emerge. A pale snout poked through, and by the way the light hit it, at first it was hard to tell if it was a white or some other color just in a pale hue. But when a wing emerged next, it became abundantly clear what color the little lady was.


A lovely little garnet! Heiro let out a little coo of delight. She had to resist the urge to help her out of her shell, or to immediately try to shove food down the little flit's throat. Slowly, painstakingly, the garnet worked herself free of the shell, shaking egg goop off herself, looking annoyed. She looked at Heiro with a huff, seeming almost expectant, and Heiro offered her a bit of food. The garnet considered the meat, and finally decided it was an acceptable offering. And so Heiro found herself bonded to a lovely pale purple garnet. One who wouldn't settle until Heiro had fully washed every last trace of the goop off of her, but then curled up in Heiro's arms.

Heiro smiled fondly at her. "You remind me a little of my sister," she said. "Effortlessly beautiful and very particular about your neatness. But I don't mind it quite so much coming from you. I think I'll call you Thetis, after her." Heiro smiled to herself. "Themis would hate it if she found out I named a pet after her, but you understand it's meant as a sign of affection, right?" Thetis sleepily buried her head into the crook of Heiro's elbow where she was being cradled. "You're much nicer than her anyway," Heiro confided quietly. "You've never snapped at me. It's fine to be haughty and proud, but you know you don't have to be nasty about it." Thetis let out a little grumbling noise. Heiro chuckled. "Alright, I'll stop talking and let you sleep, little one."

She settled the garnet gently into her lap so she could free her hands up to embroider. Once this project was done, perhaps she should add some purple dragon-shaped embroidery to something. Maybe a handkerchief. Or she could do a little blanket to give to Thetis once she was fully grown. Heiro would ponder it while she worked. She always thought better when she embroidered, anyway.

[nineofswords]

Nightmares - Osk, Ronnie, & Onisk

CW: Implications of neglect and abuse

The day was quiet. It was very late for wherhandlers, and the trio were all fast asleep. Ronnie was in her bed. Onisk was under the bed - Ronnie had long ago raised it up so the white could den underneath. Osk, for all that he was skin and bones as far as Ronnie was concerned, was still a bit too big to comfortably curl up under the bed with the white. So she'd made room in her closet for him, clearing out all her shoes and dumping them into a chest of drawers ("Don't worry that you're putting me out at all, my dear Osk, I'll have someone install shelves for them on the walls where they'll be out of our way. I've been meaning to have it done for ages anyway, and this is just the thing I needed to motivate myself to actually do it.")

The brown hadn't asked for a den of his own. It hadn't even really occurred to him yet that he'd even want one. The first night at the Weyr had been a whirlwind of activity, between Ronnie letting him eat his fill, and then scrubbing turns of dirt and grime off of him and putting numbweed on his fresher cuts. When she'd bathed him, he'd been wary, at first, a little overwhelmed at someone touching him, but she'd gone slowly, telling him what she was about to do before she did it, and at the slightest rumble or growl, she'd simply take her hands off of him - still chattering away, of course - and give him a moment to calm down. She hadn't even chastised him about it, either. She respected his feelings and boundaries, and it was...strange to him.

And then she'd taken him to the healer, and that had been a different strange experience, not least of all because he'd never been brought to a healer before. Ronnie hadn't let the healer touch Osk - "He was feral until just a few candlemarks, you see, and we've just given him a bath and I think he's a bit overstimulated at the moment, and we wouldn't want to have any accidents." - but he'd been looked over and declared a little skinny, but none of his wounds were infected and he otherwise seemed healthy. And then next was a trip to the blacksmith, because she seemed to be personally offended by the sight of the collar. She'd spoken to the woman for a moment, and then had knelt down by him. "I'm not going to put a muzzle on you," she told Osk firmly, looking into his eyes. "Ever. That said, we do need a way for our friend here," she nodded at the blacksmith, "to feel comfortable working on your collar without worrying that you'll bite her. So, how would you feel about biting into something while she does? Sometimes, we have humans bite down on leather or wood if we need to do something painful to them. Would you be willing to do that?"

He was. So she'd got wood, and the blacksmith had made quick work of the metal band on his neck, and he was finally free of the weight after turns and turns, and Ronnie had sensed he had hit his limit and had taken them all home. And then she'd made a den for him. She'd put rugs on the ground, and had piled pillows high enough to drape more rugs over them to form a kind of pillow fort cave within the closet. "Don't worry about being rough with any of that," Ronnie had told him when she was done. "They're all used and unwanted and had been sitting in storage for about a hundred turns. No one will care. I mostly just don't want you shredding my good dresses, but that's why I hang them up high and out of the way so you shan't have to worry about doing that by accident."

It had been so surreal, for Osk. The idea that he could express his wants without getting hit, that he didn't even have to make his needs known, Ronnie would just make sure they were met as if it was an obvious matter of course...it was just so far outside his experiences that he didn't know what to make of it. He hadn't slept much that first day because he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It never did. Ronnie just continued being that woman she'd been that first night. She didn't turn on him, didn't get tired of how quickly he got tired or overwhelmed.

It took a week for the nightmares to start.

Sometimes he woke up snarling. Other times whimpering. On this particular night, he managed to come to silently, but it didn't matter. Ronnie and Onisk hadn't been able to see his dream, but they'd felt the fear and helplessness seeping through the bond. Ronnie had sat up, rubbing sleep out of her eyes before throwing her blankets off and sliding out of bed. Onisk crawled out from underneath and stretched. Osk turned and buried his face in one of the pillow piles, ashamed of himself. "Oh, none of that, my dear," Ronnie had said, stifling a yawn. "You can't control your nightmares. If you could, you wouldn't have them." Onisk curled up by one of the door posts. We sit with you 'til you calm. Is what family for, Onisk assured him. Osk let out a growl, face still buried in his pillows. They shouldn't have to do this. They shouldn't be losing sleep because he was weak, because he was acting like a scared little wherling.

Ronnie settled herself against Onisk's flank. They were both near him, but not touching. Neither of them ever tried to enter his den. It was his space, and they both worked very hard to make sure he felt safe in it. "We're still on half shifts, anyway," Ronnie reminded Osk, yawning again. She'd picked up on the reason for his guilt, even without his needing to say anything. "A bit of lost sleep isn't going to effect that too badly. Would you come out a bit? I want to check your bad eye. Remember, the healer said we needed to make sure it doesn't get infected or swollen at all, or they'll need to take it out." It was true, but Osk understood that wasn't why she was asking. She wanted to rub his head to soothe him, but was couching it is such a way that he wouldn't feel embarrassed about it. He growled again, but did as he was bid. She leaned down and looked at the eye, feeling the scars around it. "Looks just the same," she assured him, her hand moving almost idly to scratch at his headknobs and eyeridges, to rub her thumb in massaging circles along the top of his skull. He let out a small sigh of resignation. It made her smile.

It was just so hard. They were both so young, so full of energy and joy, and he felt like he was holding them back. With his nightmares and his slow gait and how tired he got and how quickly he got overwhelmed. But neither of them seemed to mind. It had been his choice to bond to them, but they'd chosen too. He tried to remember that. Tried not to resent this girl for the love and care she was always so willing to show him, even as he was so endlessly grateful for it.

Onisk was already asleep again, her breathing soft and just barely audible. The white was so sweet, so naive, and so ready to trust the scarred brown. He didn't know how she did it. In her position, he wouldn't have been able to just pass out next to someone like him.

"What are you thinking about?" Ronnie asked him quietly. "You feel more cranky than usual tonight?" She didn't expect him to answer, clearly, just continued giving him physical affection. Eventually, she stopped, falling asleep with her hand on his head and her back to Onisk. Osk stared at the pair - his pair, now - still not quite understanding how they could trust him so easily. Sure, they could feel his emotions and intentions, but they knew him. They knew how quickly his mood could shift. How did that not scare them?

Ronnie shifted slightly in her sleep, but her hand stayed firmly on his head. That couldn't be comfortable. Slowly, carefully, he moved closer to her so that her hand wouldn't have to stretch quite so far. He listened to their gentle breathing, and without realizing it, Osk fell back asleep too.

[nineofswords]

Tit for Tat - S'ra & Moggeth

S'ra slowly came to. She wasn't entirely sure why she was waking up until she opened her eyes and saw the white muzzle inches away from her face. She jerked in surprise. "Faranth!"

Oh good, you're awake, Moggeth said pleasantly, like it wasn't the middle of the night and he wasn't in her personal space, wide awake, and staring her into wakefulness. I had a question for you, S'ra.

"That couldn't wait until morning?" she asked, still not fully awake despite the fact that her heart was racing a mile a minute.

I simply don't think I'll be able to sleep until I get it answered, Moggeth told her. You see, S'ra my dear, I do believe I'm mad at you. At least, I remember being mad at you, however I cannot for the life of me seem to recall why that might be. Have you any ideas?

S'ra sat up, wiping the crusties out of her eyes. "Seriously? You're waking me up for that? You know you could just pull that information from my head, right?"

He tilted his head. But this is so much more fun, don't you think?

She groaned. Of course this was how he wanted to handle this. He was such a brat, sometimes. "You didn't like how I gave you fish at the hatching, and you were being pissy about it," she told him. "Happy now? Can I sleep?"

Are you certain that's all it was? Moggeth pressed, but there was a sing-song tone in his voice that made it clear that he was mostly just toying with her.

"Yes, Moggeth. I'm going to sleep. I suggest you do the same. We have classes in the morning."

Well actually, I had a few other questions for you, since you're up, he told her. I would love for you to recount my glorious entrance into the world. It was a momentous day, after all, and I'd like to remember it in detail.

"Moggeth," S'ra said, exasperated. "No. We have classes."

No, you have classes, Moggeth corrected. I can sleep. I should sleep. I'm still a child, after all, still growing. He sounded so smug, so absurdly pleased with himself.

"Moggeth - "

It's so cute how you think you're getting back to sleep unless I say so, Moggeth purred.

S'ra glared at him. "Fine. You were the second to hatch - "

Now is that any way to tell the story of my birth? Moggeth chastised. Do it right. I want every little detail. And don't be afraid to embellish. I need to be able to picture it for myself, not just draw from your own mind.

S'ra buried her head in her hands. The white was absurd, but she could tell he wasn't going to budge on this. It was his way of getting revenge for withholding fish for his politeness, and as far as revenges went, she had to admit it was a pretty ingenious one. She'd get into trouble if she fell asleep in class, and for keeping Moggeth up late so that he had to nap. Riders were meant to handle their partners, not the other way around. But she also knew he wasn't going to let her sleep until she did as he wanted.

She lowered her hands, and the white curled up and pressed himself against her side. Now. Start again. And do it properly, he purred at her.

Resigning herself to a sleepless night, she began relaying the story of Moggeth's birth.

[nineofswords]

I Never Took You For A Fishwife - Attolia & Attolisk

Attolisk was lounging on the bed when Attolia re-entered their weyr. She had long since had to take the legs off the bed and put the padding on the floor. Living in the caravan, the wher had gotten into the habit of sleep curled up beside her in order to keep her safe, and despite living in a Weyr with more than enough room for them to sleep separately, he wouldn't hear of it. He cracked an eye at her entrance. He didn't need to see the flash of anger in her eyes to know she was seething under the surface, but he closed his eye again like he couldn't feel it and pretended to go back to sleep.

Attolia shut the door and turned to look at the wher. "Attolisk," she said tightly, her voice low and laced with anger she was only barely keeping in check. "Where is my dress?"

Closet? He suggested. Is where you keep most of them.

"I have checked the closet," Attolia hissed, stalking forwards slightly. "But I'm talking about my white dress."

Oh. Then chest. Dunno why, you never wear. Can get back to my nap, now?

"No, you may not get back to your nap," Attolia snapped, her sharp anger finally showing through. "You know very well that white dress was my mother's, and it is nowhere to be found. Stop fooling around and tell me what you've done with it!"

Attolisk stretched lazily, like he had just realized she wasn't going to let this go, and turned faceted eyes to her. Why would I know? he asked obstinately. Is YOUR dress. Maybe sent to be cleaned and just forgot.

"I did not," Attolia snapped.

How can be sure?

"Because I just checked with the drudges in the lower caverns to see if they had a dress that matched its description!"

...ah.

"'Ah' indeed," Attolia said. "Drop the feigned ignorance and tell me what you've done with it, or Faranth help me - "

You hate that dress, Attolisk said. Did you favor, getting rid of.

"You had no right to do that!" she shouted at him. "That was my mother's wedding dress."

He got to his feet, finally. If it was a shouting match she wanted, he'd meet here there. You never wore, and looking at it only make you sad. Make you think of bad men who hurt you.

"That wasn't your decision to make, you sharding..." Failing to find a suitable enough insult, she changed course, instead snapping out: "You're no better than those men if you think you can make decisions for me!"

No! he snarled. Those men would leave long time ago. First time you yell, first time you show own mind. Am better than in every way, and you know it!

"Then where is my forsking mother's dress?" she demanded. He said nothing. She made a groan of frustration. "That makes you shut up? Taking my things and hiding them isn't the action of someone who care about me, who lets me have my own mind, dammit!"

No, but is action of someone who love you and want you to stop living in past so can move on, can make friends, can stop assuming everyone out to use you!

"Don't!" Attolia snapped, taking a step closer to him. "Tell me! You love me!"

Attolisk stared Attolia down, and then said with angry deliberateness: Attolisk. Love. Attolia.

Attolia grabbed a jar of perfume and threw it at him. Attolisk was quick, nimble, and he managed to easily dodge the projectile, as he always seemed able to do whenever she lost her temper enough and started throwing things. Part of her knew she could never hit him, otherwise she would never aim in his vague direction. The perfume hit the wall, the ceramic vessel shattering and spilling its contents all over it, drenching the room in its strong scent.

"Never tell me that!" she shouted. "Coming from you, it sounds forsking ridiculous!" Even from him. Especially from him. He was a wher. He didn't know what love was. She'd never shown him any, how could he possibly know what it felt like? How could she? She'd never been loved before, probably wasn't even capable of it.

Would not have to be, if you not so closed off! he shot back at her, and whipped around and dragged his claws along the walls, leaving gouge marks and making a horrible sound.

Attolia grabbed for him, trying to get him to stop making that sound, but he danced out of her reach, clawing at a fresh patch of wall. "Get back here, you forsking animal," she howled, trying to drown the noise out with her own voice.

No! If you get throw jars, I get claw walls!

"Stop it!"

No!

They might have continued like that, if there hadn't been a knock on the door.

[nineofswords]

Three Parts of a Whole - Ennis, Ennisk, and Szilsk
TW: Blood

Ennis and Ennisk had survived their wherling training, and were now full members of their squad. It was something of an adjustment, not being constantly around the same small handful of handlers, but Ennis finally felt that she was contributing to the Weyr that had become a home for her. And Ennisk was simply thrilled to be making so many new friends.

Ennis didn't know when she'd stopped looking over her shoulder for Szilsk to reappear. Maybe when Ennisk and the rest of her class had gotten large enough to protect themselves from threats. But with rumors coming out of Fort of bonded whers going rogue and wild whers openly attacking, all of the wherhandler squads at High Reaches were expected to be on the lookout during patrols of dangerous whers in the area. And when Ennis heard 'dangerous wher', she still thought of Szilsk.

Normally, Ennis was fairly good at keeping her more private thoughts from Ennisk, who was rather impressionable still, even as an adult now. But The idea of Szilsk stalking the wilds outside of High Reaches was enough to get Ennis' heartrate up. And Ennisk couldn't help but notice that.

Green from your childhood out there somewhere? Ennisk gasped once she'd managed to talk Ennis into telling her what was wrong. If others find her, could hurt her! Could scare her, and she will hurt them! Must find her, must find her now!

"Ennisk," Ennis sighed, trying to find the words to explain what a horrible idea that was.

Ennis, she family, the sweet green said firmly. Cannot leave her. Cannot let her get hurt. She scare you, I know, but she scared too. Deserve chance to be better.

What was Ennis supposed to say in the face of that? It was such a sentimental plea, and she had no defenses for that, no way of countering it in a way that Ennisk would listen to. If she tried to insist on backup, Ennisk would say she didn't want to scare Szilsk off. And the green definitely wasn't willing to listen to to any thoughts of waiting to go searching.

So there the pair found themselves, alone, at night, in the wilds around the Weyr. Ennis had told her squad leader where they were going, because she knew better than to let Ennisk lead her off into the night without telling anyone where they were going. But they didn't find Szilsk that night. Nor did they the next. Though they spent virtually every moment of their free scouring the lands around the Weyr for the aggressive green, there was nothing to indicate her presence in particular.

Ennis had started to think of it more as an exercise in getting to know the area around the Weyr better, in Ennisk gaining more skills in hunting and tracking. It made more sense to her to think of it as a success in strengthening their existing skills than as a failure to find Szilsk, but for some reason, that only seemed to encourage Ennisk to keep looking.

Ultimately, it was Szilsk who found them.

They had stopped at a stream so Ennisk could get a drink of water and soak her feet a bit in the stream before they kept traipsing across the mountainside when they heard a growl from the underbrush. Ennis pulled her knife from her belt, closing the gap between her and Ennisk in case she needed to mount up quickly. A green, dappled in shadow stepped out of the underbrush, growling. Ennis felt her body go cold at the sight.


It was illogical. Szilsk was thinner than when Ennis had last seen her, dirtier too. And...well, it had never occured to Ennis before how small the green actually was. Greens were among the smallest, and Szilsk was smaller than Ennisk. There was very little about the green to find physically intimidating when Ennis was so often surrounded by much, much larger whers. But she knew how viscous Szilsk could be, so she didn't dare relax just yet.

Hello, Ennisk called, her voice especially soft and gentle, just for Szilsk. You no know me, but we both know Ennis. We worried about you. High Reaches on lookout for hostile whers. Worried might attack you.

Ennis knelt, slowly putting the knife in her hand on the ground, aware that Szilsk might not listen to her as long as she was holding it. "Szilsk," she said. "You're not safe here. So close to the Weyr, they'll try to drive you off or to kill you if they can't."

That threat, ungrateful whelp? the now feral green growled.

"No," Ennis said, and was surprised to find that she was blinking tears out of her eyes. "No, it's not."

Ennis not know how to say she worried about you, Ennisk said, quiet and kind. How she miss you. Love you.

And what you know about it? Szilsk snapped, eyes swirling red.

Ennis didn't think. There wasn't time. Ennisk was just standing there, was going to try appealing to Szilsk's better nature, but that never worked. Reason barely worked on the angry green. There was no talking to Szilsk once her eyes took on that shade, and Ennisk was going to stand there and get mauled in an attempt to get the other green to hear her. And Ennis couldn't lose someone else, she just couldn't, so she moved without thinking, getting between the greens, deliberately shoving her hand into Szilsk's mouth, which startled her just enough that she paused in her charge and Ennis could yank her bleeding hand out of Szilsk's mouth, grab the green's head, hold it still, and smear blood on her face, holding her there until she felt another bond take shape between them.

When she had bonded to Ennisk, she had felt such unbridled joy for what had felt like the first time in her life, no lesser because it had been secondhand. Ennis had been expecting Szilsk's rage and had braced herself for it. But that was not what the green was feeling.

Told you she just scared, Ennisk whispered quietly, not gloating, instead sounding sad to have been proven right in this way.

What you done??? Szilsk demanded, thrashing her way out of Ennis' grasp and backing away. Am not tame creature! Will hurt you! Should hurt you! Will raze home you love to ground! That show you!

Sister, Ennisk just said, slowly approaching Szilsk. Szilsk tried to back away, but she just backed herself into rocks and had nowhere to go. She snarled and snapped, but seemed unwilling to actually sink her teeth into Ennisk's flesh now that she knew they'd share in the hurt, but trying to scare the other green off nonetheless. Ennisk just slowly, relentlessly advanced until she could press her head against Szilsk's side, nuzzling it gently. Sister, she repeated. Come home. Please.

Szilsk melted. It was the only word appropriate to describe it. Her body sagged the moment Ennisk's came into contact with her, the lines of tension disappearing from her body and suddenly she looked exhausted and far older than her turns. She was barely older than Ennis herself, but she looked older in that moment from how tired she seemed.

Ennis approached as well and very tentatively laid a hand on Szilsk's flank. When the green didn't shake her off, Ennis did something she'd never done in her life: She hugged Szilsk.

Will hurt you, Szilsk said quietly, almost pleadingly.

We strong, Ennisk countered. We can handle hurt. And you family. Belong with us, Szilsk.

Szensk, the green said after a moment's hesitation. Just...Szensk. She was a different wher than she had been with Szilard, wanted to be a different wher. Her rage had burned fast and hot and had almost entirely consumed her, and for what? For a man who'd barely acknowledged her presence? This was a mistake, she was sure of it, but Ennis had been like a wherlet to her, like her own egg, and a selfish part of her wanted to keep her close still. And this green with her, absolutely no sense to her, she'd tried to charm Szensk with love and friendship, and she was going to get herself and Ennis killed. They both needed a bit of backbone, a bit of bite and spite and fire if they were going to survive.

Ennis felt a knot unknit itself in her stomach. Her greatest fear had been Szilsk, all that she'd represented, all the neglect and fear and coldness of Ennis' past life with Szilard. She'd been afraid of the rage and violence the green was capable of, but now Ennis realized it truly was just a mask to hide how scared she was. Szensk and Ennisk were both so ruled by emotion, Ennis knew they needed her and her capacity to approach problems with reason alone if they were going to survive.

If Ennisk could've smiled, she would've. And so everything was as it should be. Szensk was safe, and was going to get a second chance to have the life she deserved, everyone deserved. And Ennis was finally reunited with the last living member of her family. Everyone was where they were meant to be, and all was right. And they were both so full of fear and anger, both of them, she was glad they had her, because they'd need to learn warmth and trust if they were going to survive.

All three of them stayed there for a moment, just breathing and existing in their new bond before they began the long trudge back for home.

[nineofswords]

Behavior Unbecoming of a Rider - Br'on, Mesomelath, & Brona

Mesomelath had finally been bathed to her own, ridiculous, standards. It wasn't like she was a bronze, no amount of scrubbing could get her to shine like one. Br'on had actually pointed that out to her in so many words at one point, but she'd responded with her usual, unfounded arrogance, so he'd dropped it. Apolline joined them at about that point, and she and Mesomelath had both eyed each other appraisingly.

Well, she's certainly a vain, demanding little thing, isn't she? the pot asked of the kettle. But as long as you remember where your real loyalties and priorities lie, I suppose you can keep her. After all, a pet is hardly going to compete with an entire dragon, now is it?

"I'd never get rid of Apolline," Br'on snapped, holding the gold protectively. "I'd get rid of you before I ever got rid of this perfect angel."

Hmph. We'll see about that, Mesomelath said ominously. Br'on, I think my right wing joint needs a little more oil. It's feeling dry and itchy.

"I've oiled it like three times now!" he complained, but he could feel what she did, and he knew she wasn't lying about it still bothering her.

This cold air dries one out so very quickly. You'd know that if you cared half so much for your own personal hygiene as you do hyping yourself up, you'd know that by now. Again: Pot, kettle.

That done, he'd told her to go to their new weyrling quarters, but she'd refused to let him out of her sight, so he'd had no choice but to let her tag along while he packed up all the trappings of his candidate life. She - naturally - had something to say about everything, and a few things she'd told him he could throw away, but he'd ignored her. It wasn't her stuff, and he'd do with it whatever he wanted to. Even if, once she pointed out how ratty and full of holes and stains his favorite shirt was, he couldn't unsee it. Ugh. This was the problem with girls, they always ruined things. This was why girls and boys weren't supposed to share the same brain! It was just...wrong!

Since he had to spend half his time arguing with the green and the other half of his time placating the gold (no, he was not stealing her nesting materials, he was moving them, and he'd give them right back, he promised), and because Mesomelath had been so particular about her bathing, it was taking him far longer than most of his fellow classmates to get his living arrangements moved and his butt over to the feast. He was pretty sure they were the last ones in the candidates barracks by the time he was finally getting the last of his things moved out of the room.

As he was leaving with his last possessions, he realized Mesomelath was lingering in the space, giving everything one last appraising look over, and without thinking about it, he quickly slammed the door closed on the green. He stood at the door, holding it closed, and for a moment he questioned what he was doing. Was he just going to run away from her? The bond would still be there, she'd still be able to yell at him, even if he was halfway across the world from her. And even if that was the plan, he had nothing to barricade the door with; she'd be out and after him in seconds, and probably bite him again for his troubles. For that reason alone, he couldn't let her out, but was he just supposed to stand here until the candidates came back?

WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Mesomelath shrieked, realizing what was happening in the same second that Br'on realized he'd made a horrible mistake. Br'on! Br'on, let me out of this room this instant! I am not some common criminal to be shut up in this room. I am your queen!

"Stop saying that!" Br'on yelled back at her through the door. "You're not my queen, I'm not your minion, we shouldn't even be bonds, but you were too stupid to realize that!"

He heard the sounds of claws on the door as she scrabbled at it, trying to get it open. Br'on, how dare you make me sully myself with trying to get out of this! Do you want me to bruise my flawless hide trying to batter this door down? DO you?

"I don't care what you do with your stupid, dull hide, you...you green!"

Mesomelath shrieked in indignation, spitting out insults and demands as she began to rampage through the room Br'on had shared with Bede. Probably a good thing Br'on didn't give a forsk about his roommate, because that bridge would be well and truly burned after this.

"Bronson?"

Br'on turned and looked up the hall with horror, seeing his mother, Brona, coming towards him.

"Mom? What're you doing here?"

"You weren't at the feast, and I was getting worried, so I came looking for you. What are you doing?"

"Mom, you...you should probably go back," Br'on said, gulping. He didn't want his mom to see the maniac that was the green that had attached herself to him, didn't want her to get hurt. "I'm, uh...I'm just finishing up, and I'll be there soon." There was a crash from inside the room, and he winced.

But Brona didn't go back. She was frowning. "Bronson...what are you doing? Why are you standing in front of the door like that?"

"It's nothing..." The door jerked behind him as Mesomelath threw herself at it. "Just...you should go."

But Brona's eyes were narrowed suspiciously. "Where is your green, Bronson?"

"Mom - "

"Tell me she isn't behind that door, young man," Brona said, her voice taking on a steely edge that it rarely held, and only when he had well and truly forsked up.

"Mom, you don't understand - "

"Oh, I understand," Brona said. "I understand that you threw a very public tantrum out on the sands today, one I was willing to overlook because I assumed you'd be adequately embarrassed of such behavior once you'd had a chance to calm down." Br'on paled. He'd completely forgotten, in the heat of the moment, that everyone at the Weyr had been in the stands. Watching him. Seeing Mesomelath pull him around, had seen him run to grab the bronze and be knocked over by a mere green. Forsk...he was never - never - going to live that down.

"But this is a step too far," Brona continued, gesturing at Br'on standing with his back to the door. "Locking her in your room? Just because you were disappointed not to get a bronze?"

"She's a menace," Br'on said, trying to reason with her.

"She is an infant!" Brona corrected. "One you have been tasked with caring for! I don't care if you don't like her, I don't care if she is a bit feisty, it is your job to make sure she is safe, and that," she jabbed a finger at the door where another crash sounded from inside, "does not sound safe!"

"She's doing that herself because she's pissy that I won't let her out!" Br'on corrected. "And I can't let her out, because she'll bite me again if I do!"

"Rightfully so!" Brona said, and Br'on's jaw dropped.

"How can you say that, mom?"

"You locked her in your room!" Brona snapped. "I should slap some sense into you for pulling a stunt like that!" His mother had never hit him once in his life, and hearing her say that she should stung worse than an actual slap would. "Now let her out of there this instant, and if she bites you it will be your own fault!"

Slowly, reluctantly, Br'on came away from the door. Mesomelath exploded out of it with a snarl. FINALLY! Br'on, when I get my hands on you -

"You will do nothing," Brona snapped, scooping the dragonet up and holding her up so they were eye to eye. She was stronger than she looked from decades of hard labor that came with drudge work. "You are just a child, so I am willing to allow for some willfulness, but that is my son, and if you hurt him again, you are going to answer to me, do you understand?"

And who do you think you are to speak to me in that manner, you peasant? Mesomelath sneered at her, but Brona gave the green a shake which made her yelp.

"I said, do you understand?" Her stone was pure iron, and Br'on was looking at her in awe as Mesomelath's tail slowly tucked between her legs and she hunched slightly in submission. Brona could've been a golden dragon herself in that moment, which made Mesomelath's presence in his mind all the more unfair.

Yes... Mesomelath said quietly, well and fully cowed.

"Good." Brona handed her off to Br'on. "Now. You are both going to the feast. You will behave yourselves as brand new riders of the Weyr should. You," and she pointed at Br'on, "will not lock your partner up like that again. She deserves more respect than that. And you," she pointed at Mesomelath, "will not bite anyone else. Are we absolutely clear?"

The pair mumbled something that had the absolute vaguest shape of confirmation.

"Well," Brona said, hands on her hips. "I'm glad we straightened that out." She shook her head. "I wanted to be proud of you for impressing, Bronson, I really did, but this behavior is thoroughly unacceptable."

His name is Br'on, now, Mesomelath said, apparently having found her voice again after the scolding, and most of her normal haughtiness had returned, but she still wouldn't meet Brona's eyes.

"Mom, she's a girl," Br'on said. "How can you be proud of me for impressing to a girl?"

"And what is wrong with girls?" Brona asked, her voice taking on a very dangerous tone with that question.

"Nothing, I'll go to the feast now," Br'on yelped, easing down the hallway past his mother and then dropping Mesomelath so he could scoop up his belongings and running flat out for the door out.

Brona put her hands on her hips. "Where on Pern did I go wrong with that boy?" she muttered to herself. She felt a pang of guilt that it was somehow her fault that he seemed to think his dragon was somehow inferior for being a girl and green. Could she have done more to make sure he respected women? She wracked her brains. Probably, but she'd been so busy working to make sure that there was enough food on his plate, and then she'd been too tired to really talk to her son much in the evenings about anything important. Slowly, feeling the weight of her own failure towards her son, she returned to the feast.

Br'on and Mesomelath quickly dropped their things in their new rooms and Br'on scrambled to get presentable for the hatching. At one point, Mesomelath put her mouth around his calf, just to prove she could, just to prove that she wasn't afraid of Brona and would do whatever she liked to her bonded. But she didn't break the skin, and she let go very, very quickly.