Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
24.Jul.12, 07:24 AM
Fear had been a predominate emotion of the second half of the day; oh, the morning had been well enough. He'd spent it in the classroom teaching, and then chatting vaguely with R'nd over lunch. That was when things had begun to go down hill, and not because of R'nd's conversation skills. B'jin didn't spend much time with or around Jada. In the beginning, it was because he had been the one to uproot her from her life, and that wasn't really something many of the Searched (and stolen) young men and women were happy to forgive their Searchrider for. B'jin could understand that, and had never made any push to get to know the young woman. They were cordial when they met up, and worked well enough together while she had still been teaching in the Hall. Then, of course, the girl had Impressed to little miss Krypth, and well, the difference in station alongside their history didn't invite a friendship; had the girl Impressed green, or even blue, the man was sure he'd have put in more effort to get to know her. After all, green's ought to stick together, and blues were potential bedmates, whether they wanted to be or not.
And Jada, or rather, Krypth, was the reason B'jin's day took a nose dive. Now, the greenrider didn't have any issues what so ever with Ayyonth giving chase to a Weyrling gold; after all, it was probably one of the few times the small-scaled blue would be likely to win such a wonderful prize (though B'jin wasn't sure how well a blue sired clutch would sit with the Weyr) and he fully supported the hilarity that would result in R'nd waking up with Jada (and he was still voting his favourite bluerider Fly with Par'a. Because. Par'a!) though he had some inkling on R'nd's hesitation on that situation. Something about Jada being disinterested or something; apparently his friend's ego was as tender as it was large, and the Harper planned to, at some stage, play the role of disinterest just to see what reaction it would spark in his lover. He was almost positive it would result in R'nd's pouting. And B'jin did so enjoy cheering the bluerider up when eh got pouty. It was fun in the most devious sense of the word.
That wasn't the issue, though. What had caused B'jin more than a little surprise and mild anxiety had been the way R'nd transformed when Ayyonth had gotten a hold of him; the way his face changed, the way his stance changed, the whole way in which R'nd change. R'nd was sweet, and playful and sometimes unsure. The man that walked away from him was not the R'nd B'jin knew, and it had left him staring after the bluerider with wide eyes. Then Par'a had slapped a hand on his shoulder, frightening the great golden Faranth out of him, and cheerfully informed him (as she was wont to do) that that was precisely the look the pretty bluerider levelled on B'jin whenever Larrikith flew, and Ayyonth gave chase. B'jin's blood had turned to ice, and he'd fled the scene.
He just... he couldn't! R'nd wasn't one of those! He wasn't a, a - monster! He was sweet, and charming and kind and gentle..! B'jin had dashed through the Weyr, fleeing the Gather Square and the dance of dragons above it, sparkling in the sky. He'd dashed along the paths between the huts, beseeching Larrikith to inform him of who won the flight even as he came to a skidding, puffing stop by the door of his hut and flung himself inside, the door slamming behind him and the lock being thrown. One simply didn't live near vicious stalkers like S'kef, or jealous past mates like Nemall, or sneaking snakes like J'ver and not have a heavy lock on the door. The portrait of D'ren stared back at him, and with what was half-hiss, half-whimper, B'jin tore it down and flung it across the room... it floated softly to the ground at his feet, and Weyrleader once more peering up at him, as if mocking. B'jin kicked the picture, sending it scatting across the floor to glide under the coffee table in the living area, where the beautifully sketched face could stare at the bottom of the table.
Trembling, B'jin simply stood by the door, waiting and breathing harshly, trying to calm himself from a fear he couldn't particularly articulate. Neither his mind nor his body would settle, however, and the greenrider took trembling steps across the main room toward the kitchen, angling for the cupboard in which he had a stockpile of alcohol, intent on drinking enough to calm him, maybe enough to wipe himself out. Did he have any relaxant drugs? He couldn't think, his brain was fuzzy, and even as he reached up to take a bottle from the top shelf (well out of reach of the children) when he felt Larrikith brush against his mind in concern as she landed on the roof. Her emotions were tinged with amusement, apparently finding Krypth's flight the greatest form of amusement since her last attempt to cause mayhem. B'jin opened the bottle, and as he was debating on whether to bother finding a glass, Larrikith informed him that Krypth had just gorged herself and that there were half the Weyr's blues streaking to the sky after her.
B'jin guzzled half the bottle. He hadn't meant to, but a gorging queen wasn't much promise for a large clutch; one that wasn't even a turn old yet? And then Jada was a virgin (worse kept secret amongst the greenriders, that was - and probably the entire weyr)... and then he saw that expression on R'nd's face and B'jin chocked on the wine he was swallowing, coughing it up and dry reaching into the sink he stood beside, coughing and gasping as he tried to clear it away from his mind, try to think clearly, try to forget - then he was told quite seriously that Veeth had run out of steam, that Ayyonth was still - Oh! Tyrrisath caught Krypth! Larrikith gave a bugle of congratulations, while B'jin, shocked, stood without breathing, staring into the sink in horror.
Tyrrisath, the great brown monster. Tyrrisath, that beast belonging to S'kef. They had caught Krypth? The shaking started then, the greenrider trembling so badly the wine bottle slipped from his grasp, and landing badly at his feet, it smashed. Red wine splashed in every direction, shards of glass scattering over the kitchen floorboards. B'jin gripped the sink with both hands, knuckles going white, blood draining from his face and he leaned over, reaching heavily before his lunch was brought up, alongside what little wine he'd managed to swallow before Larrikith's announcement. His stomach was alive with writhing, twisting, slimy snakes of guilt, rearing their ugly heads and striking at his very soul. Choking, sobbing and reaching, B'jin clawed for reality, coughing as his stomach realised it was empty, though his body fought viciously to bring up more, indignant that there was nothing left.
Shaking, trembling, terrified, the venom from the striking snakes of guilt within his stomach flooded through him, reminding him of how it was all his fault that the young woman was now at the mercy of one of the most threadscored sons of bitches to ever walk the surface of Pern; his fault! B'jin's breath hitched, forming a broken sob as he stumbled across the kitchen, trekking footprints of wine as he went. It was his fault, all his fault! He was the one who ripped the poor child from her life, he was the one that had shoved her into Candidate classes. It was he who's pushed her onto the Sands, he who had celebrated when she'd Impressed to the new hope for Pern, the radiant little gold Krypth. Him. Him. Him. All him. Tears coursed down the man's face, and he shoved his shirt sleeve over his face with unknowingly, brushing them away, only to have them replaced by more a moment later.
His fault! B'jin snarled suddenly, through the tears and the half strangled sob, and lashed out, kicking a dining chair across the room, it hit the back of the cough and bounced off, skittering across the floor. Frustrated, angry, and so guilty, B'jin took it out on his hut, flinging precious Northern trinkets across the room so they smashed into walls, kicking things that wouldn't break his toes, tearing down images he's put so much time and effort into creating, he tore through the hut like a whirlwind of fury and guilt. Then, barely ten minutes later, the greenrider collapsed in the far corner, breaking down completely.
The man was a mess. His eyes were a harsh, hot crimson, swollen and puffy, the lashes thick with tears. Cheeks flushed, nose red, the greenrider's face was streaked with salty water, despite his best efforts to deny them both existence and continued appearance on his face with the sopping sleeves of his shirt. His breath came in harsh, choking sobs as the requirement to breathe fought against the primal need to cry. The generally solid man was trembling like a leaf in a storm, his body wracked with guilt, so, so very much guilt and fear; but mostly, guilt. If only he had never agreed to Search. If only he had never agreed to bring in those Larri chose. If only. If only. IF ONLY..!
B'jin gave an agonised half-cry, half-scream into his knees, head pressed down while his arms were wrapped over the top of his head the greenrider rocking slightly where he sat, pressed against the wall.
And Jada, or rather, Krypth, was the reason B'jin's day took a nose dive. Now, the greenrider didn't have any issues what so ever with Ayyonth giving chase to a Weyrling gold; after all, it was probably one of the few times the small-scaled blue would be likely to win such a wonderful prize (though B'jin wasn't sure how well a blue sired clutch would sit with the Weyr) and he fully supported the hilarity that would result in R'nd waking up with Jada (and he was still voting his favourite bluerider Fly with Par'a. Because. Par'a!) though he had some inkling on R'nd's hesitation on that situation. Something about Jada being disinterested or something; apparently his friend's ego was as tender as it was large, and the Harper planned to, at some stage, play the role of disinterest just to see what reaction it would spark in his lover. He was almost positive it would result in R'nd's pouting. And B'jin did so enjoy cheering the bluerider up when eh got pouty. It was fun in the most devious sense of the word.
That wasn't the issue, though. What had caused B'jin more than a little surprise and mild anxiety had been the way R'nd transformed when Ayyonth had gotten a hold of him; the way his face changed, the way his stance changed, the whole way in which R'nd change. R'nd was sweet, and playful and sometimes unsure. The man that walked away from him was not the R'nd B'jin knew, and it had left him staring after the bluerider with wide eyes. Then Par'a had slapped a hand on his shoulder, frightening the great golden Faranth out of him, and cheerfully informed him (as she was wont to do) that that was precisely the look the pretty bluerider levelled on B'jin whenever Larrikith flew, and Ayyonth gave chase. B'jin's blood had turned to ice, and he'd fled the scene.
He just... he couldn't! R'nd wasn't one of those! He wasn't a, a - monster! He was sweet, and charming and kind and gentle..! B'jin had dashed through the Weyr, fleeing the Gather Square and the dance of dragons above it, sparkling in the sky. He'd dashed along the paths between the huts, beseeching Larrikith to inform him of who won the flight even as he came to a skidding, puffing stop by the door of his hut and flung himself inside, the door slamming behind him and the lock being thrown. One simply didn't live near vicious stalkers like S'kef, or jealous past mates like Nemall, or sneaking snakes like J'ver and not have a heavy lock on the door. The portrait of D'ren stared back at him, and with what was half-hiss, half-whimper, B'jin tore it down and flung it across the room... it floated softly to the ground at his feet, and Weyrleader once more peering up at him, as if mocking. B'jin kicked the picture, sending it scatting across the floor to glide under the coffee table in the living area, where the beautifully sketched face could stare at the bottom of the table.
Trembling, B'jin simply stood by the door, waiting and breathing harshly, trying to calm himself from a fear he couldn't particularly articulate. Neither his mind nor his body would settle, however, and the greenrider took trembling steps across the main room toward the kitchen, angling for the cupboard in which he had a stockpile of alcohol, intent on drinking enough to calm him, maybe enough to wipe himself out. Did he have any relaxant drugs? He couldn't think, his brain was fuzzy, and even as he reached up to take a bottle from the top shelf (well out of reach of the children) when he felt Larrikith brush against his mind in concern as she landed on the roof. Her emotions were tinged with amusement, apparently finding Krypth's flight the greatest form of amusement since her last attempt to cause mayhem. B'jin opened the bottle, and as he was debating on whether to bother finding a glass, Larrikith informed him that Krypth had just gorged herself and that there were half the Weyr's blues streaking to the sky after her.
B'jin guzzled half the bottle. He hadn't meant to, but a gorging queen wasn't much promise for a large clutch; one that wasn't even a turn old yet? And then Jada was a virgin (worse kept secret amongst the greenriders, that was - and probably the entire weyr)... and then he saw that expression on R'nd's face and B'jin chocked on the wine he was swallowing, coughing it up and dry reaching into the sink he stood beside, coughing and gasping as he tried to clear it away from his mind, try to think clearly, try to forget - then he was told quite seriously that Veeth had run out of steam, that Ayyonth was still - Oh! Tyrrisath caught Krypth! Larrikith gave a bugle of congratulations, while B'jin, shocked, stood without breathing, staring into the sink in horror.
Tyrrisath, the great brown monster. Tyrrisath, that beast belonging to S'kef. They had caught Krypth? The shaking started then, the greenrider trembling so badly the wine bottle slipped from his grasp, and landing badly at his feet, it smashed. Red wine splashed in every direction, shards of glass scattering over the kitchen floorboards. B'jin gripped the sink with both hands, knuckles going white, blood draining from his face and he leaned over, reaching heavily before his lunch was brought up, alongside what little wine he'd managed to swallow before Larrikith's announcement. His stomach was alive with writhing, twisting, slimy snakes of guilt, rearing their ugly heads and striking at his very soul. Choking, sobbing and reaching, B'jin clawed for reality, coughing as his stomach realised it was empty, though his body fought viciously to bring up more, indignant that there was nothing left.
Shaking, trembling, terrified, the venom from the striking snakes of guilt within his stomach flooded through him, reminding him of how it was all his fault that the young woman was now at the mercy of one of the most threadscored sons of bitches to ever walk the surface of Pern; his fault! B'jin's breath hitched, forming a broken sob as he stumbled across the kitchen, trekking footprints of wine as he went. It was his fault, all his fault! He was the one who ripped the poor child from her life, he was the one that had shoved her into Candidate classes. It was he who's pushed her onto the Sands, he who had celebrated when she'd Impressed to the new hope for Pern, the radiant little gold Krypth. Him. Him. Him. All him. Tears coursed down the man's face, and he shoved his shirt sleeve over his face with unknowingly, brushing them away, only to have them replaced by more a moment later.
His fault! B'jin snarled suddenly, through the tears and the half strangled sob, and lashed out, kicking a dining chair across the room, it hit the back of the cough and bounced off, skittering across the floor. Frustrated, angry, and so guilty, B'jin took it out on his hut, flinging precious Northern trinkets across the room so they smashed into walls, kicking things that wouldn't break his toes, tearing down images he's put so much time and effort into creating, he tore through the hut like a whirlwind of fury and guilt. Then, barely ten minutes later, the greenrider collapsed in the far corner, breaking down completely.
The man was a mess. His eyes were a harsh, hot crimson, swollen and puffy, the lashes thick with tears. Cheeks flushed, nose red, the greenrider's face was streaked with salty water, despite his best efforts to deny them both existence and continued appearance on his face with the sopping sleeves of his shirt. His breath came in harsh, choking sobs as the requirement to breathe fought against the primal need to cry. The generally solid man was trembling like a leaf in a storm, his body wracked with guilt, so, so very much guilt and fear; but mostly, guilt. If only he had never agreed to Search. If only he had never agreed to bring in those Larri chose. If only. If only. IF ONLY..!
B'jin gave an agonised half-cry, half-scream into his knees, head pressed down while his arms were wrapped over the top of his head the greenrider rocking slightly where he sat, pressed against the wall.
