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!
02.Sep.12, 07:16 PM
Talian listened to the entire thing, silently mourning for the other man as he maintained a neutral, straight-faced exterior. Many of those notes sounded so familiar, from the overwhelming loss to the anger, right down to the desperate struggle for control. That last one in particular hit a heavy note with Talian, who had struggled for control for his entire life, not just his tenure at Katila. He struggled for it his entire life, only to have it snatched away at the last moment time after time. At this rate, he doubted it was something he could ever expect to truly feel. Even the dragonriders, who bragged of their carefree and freewilled ways, were ultimately the slaves to their leaders.
Freedom didn't exist.
But how could he say that to someone in the clutches of despair? How could Talian, the most pessimistic person on Pern, offer anything to help this poor boy who he sympathized with so much? How could he tell him that he knew how it all felt, he'd already been there once before?
Doctor or not, Talian was fragile and his emotions candid. He'd always been very poor at hiding them, and his indecision and grief showed on his face as the story came to an end. Talian was unable to tear his eyes away from his peer. They glinted with a hint of moisture that he swiftly and silently repressed. He'd already determined not to share too many details of his own life and mind, but surely he could at least say something.
"I wish I knew the answer to that question," he said honestly. He wrote down a few more things, then folded the paper and tucked it away. It wasn't doing any good, and he wasn't the right man for this job. His wounds were still too fresh. Too bad he seemed to be the only man for the job, though! He was all they had, and therefore here he was. It was tragic.
He was silent for a long moment, then he coughed. "It's....There is one thing I can offer to you, perhaps," he said, voice crisp and controlled though his face revealed how his emotions were anything but. "You're not alone. You're one of over a hundred people placed in the same situation." Talian was one of them, too. The lesson he was about to present was one that he'd learned the hard way. "You told me the other day that you and I are different. That if something happened to you, you wouldn't have anyone. That doesn't have to be true."
Talian remembered how badly he'd wished he shared his own woes instead of bottling them up inside so they could explode. "None of us are alone. That sounds.." he paused, frowned. "I guess horribly cliche, but it's true. We've all lost connections and have suffered similarly. That doesn't trivialize any of your feelings, but it does mean you have outlets..."
He switched from the emotional side to the medical side so quickly that it seemed almost forced. Talian could feel himself coming dangerously close to confiding, something which he had no intention of doing more than he had to, in spite of his own words. This wasn't about him. So when a medical thought popped up, he lept on it quickly.
"Outlets are very important. Anything to direct your energy towards and keep your mind off of the situation. I personally find healing very therapeutic." He smiled softly, and the relief showed in his eyes. While he was working, he could usually forget all about his problems, at least for a while. He didn't mention that he worked himself into a delirium about half the time; he assumed that others were less obsessive than he was and could control their need for an outlet more than he could.
"Of course, your craft involves weaponry, does it not?" he inquired, remembering that Sanderon had wounded a dragon with an arrow when he was captured. The best Tal had managed was to pull hair! "If that's the case, I can try to get you cleared for hunting, but I can't do that until I'm convinced that you won't be a threat to others." A frown. He didn;t think Sanderon was dangerous, but people n such states were prone to relapse.
Like he had been. Shards, it was hard to keep his emotions out of this, to keep his side of the story from bleeding into Sanderon's. They truly had a lot in common.
Freedom didn't exist.
But how could he say that to someone in the clutches of despair? How could Talian, the most pessimistic person on Pern, offer anything to help this poor boy who he sympathized with so much? How could he tell him that he knew how it all felt, he'd already been there once before?
Doctor or not, Talian was fragile and his emotions candid. He'd always been very poor at hiding them, and his indecision and grief showed on his face as the story came to an end. Talian was unable to tear his eyes away from his peer. They glinted with a hint of moisture that he swiftly and silently repressed. He'd already determined not to share too many details of his own life and mind, but surely he could at least say something.
"I wish I knew the answer to that question," he said honestly. He wrote down a few more things, then folded the paper and tucked it away. It wasn't doing any good, and he wasn't the right man for this job. His wounds were still too fresh. Too bad he seemed to be the only man for the job, though! He was all they had, and therefore here he was. It was tragic.
He was silent for a long moment, then he coughed. "It's....There is one thing I can offer to you, perhaps," he said, voice crisp and controlled though his face revealed how his emotions were anything but. "You're not alone. You're one of over a hundred people placed in the same situation." Talian was one of them, too. The lesson he was about to present was one that he'd learned the hard way. "You told me the other day that you and I are different. That if something happened to you, you wouldn't have anyone. That doesn't have to be true."
Talian remembered how badly he'd wished he shared his own woes instead of bottling them up inside so they could explode. "None of us are alone. That sounds.." he paused, frowned. "I guess horribly cliche, but it's true. We've all lost connections and have suffered similarly. That doesn't trivialize any of your feelings, but it does mean you have outlets..."
He switched from the emotional side to the medical side so quickly that it seemed almost forced. Talian could feel himself coming dangerously close to confiding, something which he had no intention of doing more than he had to, in spite of his own words. This wasn't about him. So when a medical thought popped up, he lept on it quickly.
"Outlets are very important. Anything to direct your energy towards and keep your mind off of the situation. I personally find healing very therapeutic." He smiled softly, and the relief showed in his eyes. While he was working, he could usually forget all about his problems, at least for a while. He didn't mention that he worked himself into a delirium about half the time; he assumed that others were less obsessive than he was and could control their need for an outlet more than he could.
"Of course, your craft involves weaponry, does it not?" he inquired, remembering that Sanderon had wounded a dragon with an arrow when he was captured. The best Tal had managed was to pull hair! "If that's the case, I can try to get you cleared for hunting, but I can't do that until I'm convinced that you won't be a threat to others." A frown. He didn;t think Sanderon was dangerous, but people n such states were prone to relapse.
Like he had been. Shards, it was hard to keep his emotions out of this, to keep his side of the story from bleeding into Sanderon's. They truly had a lot in common.
