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+---- Thread: Foolish Pride, Old Anger [Solo] (/showthread.php?tid=2015)
Foolish Pride, Old Anger [Solo] - T'rel - 06.Nov.13
"Good job, son. I've always thought you should use a firmer hand with your brown." T'rel's words were soft, the compliment for his son rare and sincere. He ignored the boy's dragon, though felt Berruth's concern for the horrified brown in the back edges of his mind. He knew his bronze was aching for the brown, but discipline was always harshest felt when it was being first established. Indrith would get used to the harsh hand and eventually be the happier for this moment.
No one was more surprised than he when T'ken raised his eyes to meet his father's gaze dead on. T'ken studied him, and then shook his head. "No. I will not turn my brown into another Berruth. I will not be like you." T'ken looked visibly rattled, but T'rel was too pissed at him to care. When his boy turned to walk away, T'rel's hand clamped on his shoulder, turning him around by force. Indrith bellowed, then trembled from head to toe as he found he couldn't follow through on what he'd been about to do. Grateful his bronze had finally found his will, T'rel followed through with a punch to T'ken's face. It landed, T'rel moving to follow through once again. He would make his boy submit to his will, show him true discipline.
T'ken twisted this time, blocking the punch with his forearm. T'rel wasn't sure how he wound up on the ground, staring up at the weyrling. His son gazed down at him with contempt. "We part ways here. We're done. I never want to see you again, and you will never ‘discipline’ me again." He stepped backwards, T'rel's boy watching him like he was a vicious feline that might or not attack. "I want nothing to do with you."
His son didn't want anything to do with him. His son didn't want to be like him. His son...The angry words had hit T'rel with a force that had surprised him, for all that part of him had been expecting this from the day that greenrider Ravana had planted herself between him and his boy and told him that her would never harm Terken again. It still hurt though.
T'rel reached up to touch his dragon and nodded. I did. But I wanted him to be able to do it because I did, not because some greenriding whore interfered. Berruth creeled then sighed, withdrawing from his rider's thoughts. The bronze quietly wished the departing brownrider well, part of him grieving a boy he too had helped raise. He didn't remember the specifics, but he remembered the love that had once been between boy and dragon. He thought, if he tried really hard, he could remember a time T'ken had been able to touch him without guilt and pity staining his mind.
The bronze shifted, curling around his rider protectively. T'rel had wanted to be a good father. He had genuinely loved his son. He wished he could make T'ken see that. He could, but he knew his bonded would likely never speak to him again. T'rel had never talked to the boy about how he grew up, and Berruth had long thought he should. No. He looked at his bonded through an yellow swirling eye and felt T'rel grip his mind tightly. I won't have it. You will never tell T'ken. The bronze yielded to his rider's wishes. When he looked toward the weyr again, T'ken's form walking away had been reduced to a speck trailed by a smaller and a larger one.