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!
19.Aug.12, 09:20 PM
She hovered near Lymsleia- there was no other word for her actions- anxious. She wanted the dark-skinned female to open her mouth, she really did, anything to keep from hearing the cracks of the whip, the babble of the crowd. If Lymsleia opened her mouth, Jada could drag her away, and thus solve a lot of problems. She hoped, she crossed her fingers for the good luck that the woman would take it into her head that she would protest more, that she would come up with some other fool idea- or that she would challenge Jada to a knife fight, and Jada could just trip and fall on it, and be put out of her misery. She felt Krypth's alarm at the thought, and knew the Gold was rising to her feet, moving away from her Clutch. No. Stay. she assured the Queen, and felt the dragonet- still just a child, though she was a mother- quiver with worry as she paced the edge of the Sands, her eggs not undefended but not the most important of the other female's worries.
Why had Tsuen said nothing? Jada stared at Tsuen, vibrant eyes begging the older goldrider to speak up, to say something? But the older woman spared her not a glance, not even a look of disdain or dismissal; it was as though the younger woman were not even there. The older woman was fixated on something that Jada could not see, even while her eyes watched the play around her with a vagueness that... was frightening. Tsuen was still young, for a dragonrider. She should not have such a vapid, uncaring expression. Not even anger had seemed to cross her face when she had so calmly allowed to three extra stripes across Sanderon's back.
Jada's lower lip was pressed tightly between her teeth, her tanned face pale and bloodless as she watched each stripe laid across the boy's back. Why was the boy being so stubborn? Each stripe grew harder and harder, to coax the lad into a scream that would show someone he was in pain, to show the man he felt it, to encourage it along! Something!
From above, she heard a deep bellow, and a familiar voice raised in a cry. Her shoulders sagged as D'ren appeared at last, and people on the front line scattered back to let the massive Bronze in closer to the platform, for D'ren to leap off. "STOP!" The man cried, and Jada felt her shoulders sag in relief, a sob spilling from her throat. Shards, thank goodness that he had come. This mess was growing more and more wild, the flames fanning higher and higher. Around her, everyone grew silent; Above, Ronarth was still carrying on, until D'ren raised a hand.
Now, at last, the Weyrwoman opened her mouth to speak. What was she going to say? Defend herself? Defend the activity- Ah! She squeaked, flinching as D'ren- calm, collected, kind D'ren- raised his hand to strike the older Goldrider. His hand hung there, and Jada closed her eyes. If Tsuen spoke, Jada didn't see anything nor hear anything. When she opened her eyes, D'ren's firm, powerful hands were cupped to Tsuen's cheeks. Beloved. Krypth's voice was tender, affectionate. Do not cry. Yet the Weyrling's eyes were damp as D'ren stopped in front of her and Lymsleia. The Harper's slim body gave a powerful tremble, waiting for the blow to fall. She didn't have the training to deal with this, and her ignorance had shown clean and bare to the entire Weyr. His shame in her shone through in the look he gave her, but his motion was gentle. There was none of the violence and anger in it that he was willing to show to a proper leader, and the Harper hiccuped back a sob of disappointment. She had tried and she had failed and she would never be able to do any better because she was-
Your melodrama is showing, Jada. I told you not to cry. Do not, I will be most vexed with you. You are still a little goldrider, just as I am a little gold. We have much to learn before you could have been expected to be effective in calming the crowd. Not to mention you didn't wear a gown like I told you, so you probably looked as dirty as Indivara. Krypth didn't drown out what D'ren spoke to Lymsleia, but it was difficult to focus on both at once. Jada could hear him blasting the dark-skinned Healer, but the Gold didn't much care that Jada wanted to pay attention to what was being said. It was only when he stepped back, and Jada pushed for Krypth to be silent, that the dragon's chatter subsided; Jada could feel the gold 'listening' through Jada's ears, considering the words their Weyrleader spoke next.
"This is a mistake! There have been many mistakes!" D'ren's voice was a roar, and it hit Jada's ears like a battering ram. "All of you know this! We have suffered turn after turn of exile, struggling to rebuild everything we had before the plague. We watched our friends and loved ones die! We suffered in loneliness and despair, clinging on to any shred of hope we could find! We scraped and clawed for every inch, we worked hard for little return! It's been hard! And now look what we've done! We've unjustly forced our own hardships on the innocent, taking them from their homes and forcing them to endure the same hardships that we complain about so bitterly ourselves! It was words very similar to the ones that Jada had spoken in the Weyr's defense; but her words had lacked the passion and the heartbreak of one who had survived. Her words had instead carried the resignation of one who had been Stolen, and been dealt a lucky hand in the game of life to Impress a dragon, and be one of those who now belonged here. It was no wonder they had told her she was no longer one of them. But those words were not fair. Jada still wept for home, and she longed for the cold bite of a proper winter. The Katilan heat left her fatigued, and the cold gave her no freedom from its bite. She had her Hall, in the North, and her family. She missed the taste of sweetmeats, and the sound of music in a proper Hall. She missed the colors and tapestries, and stone homes, and the scents.
"What's done is done. What was done...was done out of cruel necessity. We brought these children here because we needed their help, not to torture them. And we do need them, just as they now need us." It seemed as though now, his voice gentled, though passion still rode the words, and Jada listened, Krypth with her, ears straining to hear the words of a man who had been as much a father to her as she remembered, since her own had passed on so young. In the Hall, no man had dared to become a father to Szelem's children, for the Master had wished to be mother and father both to her children, unwilling to share what had been hers and her mate's with any other. "...I want Katila to be a home to you, not a prison! That said, we are all here together now, and regardless of how we feel about one another, we need each other to survive. We are alone, friends. We are drifting at sea, and if we don't work together, our lifeboat will sink very quickly... I promise, all of us can see our homes again. We can see the Weyrs flourish again. We can all know peace again. But that can never happen if we continue to fight among ourselves. The dragonriders are meant to the protectors of Pern. We've failed our own legacy, but we did it to survive. We must survive. And if we survive today, we will still be here to protect the world tomorrow. There will be changes, and this? This is over...."
Over? What? What would be the plan to maintain order? If not the lashings, then how? Jada's mind whirled, and she felt Krypth nudge her mind, pointing her attention back to the rapidly aging man who stood strong in front of his people. "I will not tolerate spectacles like this. I will not tolerate public fighting and threats. And I will not tolerate further abuse of power... Think of the future. Think of what we all want, and what we can all help each other obtain. No one is going north without dragons...and without those to stand, there will be no dragons. Think of where togetherness can take us." Abuse of power. Had that been what Jada had done? Had that been why he had looked at her so sadly? Jada's jaw clenched, and she tried to replay events in her mind, to see exactly where she had gone wrong. Should she have been more like Tsuen, cold and proud, unmoving? And without people to Stand... If these people refused, D'ren would be forced to Steal more. B'jin and I'shan would once again be sent North, and new people would be torn from their families, but Krypth's children... would die. Die, or Impress to those who loathed them. D'ren's voice fell away, and in moments he went from the strong, powerful man, to showing every turn that he held on his shoulders. And Jada felt-
Fear?
D'ren was 65. He and Ronarth both had plenty more years to them. Tsuen was not much younger than they, if Jada recalled what she had learned. Both were new parents, though it seemed that only D'ren seemed to have a care for the child. Or care for anything. He should have many more turns yet of good health, but what if something happened? What if- what if Nirinath did not rise? What if Krypth did not rise again before Nirinath was expected? That was two, maybe three turns? What if no other Golds were born? What if- What if the Senior Queen did rise, and S'kef or N'gelt caught her, or a bronzerider without D'ren's generous heart? The Northerners wept now, and cried that their lives were unfair- but D'ren was kinder than he was given credit for, that much she knew. And what if Krypth did rise, and bore a Gold? And that Gold rose, as Krypth had, with an inexperienced Rider? It was a given that the Rider would be one of the Stolen, not one of the Katilan-born.
The next turns would have much of a story to tell. Jada watched D'ren move away, her heart quivering in fear as Lymsleia brushed past her and opened her mouth at last, babbling at the older man. And Jada watched, and felt her hand itch to slap Lymsleia so hard that all the stupid fell out at once. Maybe then they could settle down. hauling in a breath, the Harper was shocked at her own violent urge. Jada respected the girl, she reminded herself, who cared so much to help others that she ignored the fact there were others better qualified to do so. And ignored danger to do so, which was a less sensible decision, but spoke of a strong need. Maybe it wasn't so much respect, but an understanding?
The Goldrider turned and moved back towards the Sands, smiling at those who smiled to her, bending down to talk to one of the Weyrbrats. Her students missed her, she realized, and it made her ache. She would need to find the time to teach again. She wanted to. It was what she was good at, teaching. Not this politics and ruling. Jada was a simple girl, with a love of people. She had been feeling... lonely. Even in the crowd of people that surrounded her, each of them well-meaning, Jada had missed being able to reach out and touch someone's life. She had been too long a student again. She had forgotten how it felt to be a teacher, to guide and shape. Come back to me. Krypth ordered, and for one of the first times since she had first Impressed, Jada put her own wants above the desires of her dragon; Selfishly, the Harper reached out to take one of the small hands that was thrust in her direction, moving towards Harper Hall with her children.
Why had Tsuen said nothing? Jada stared at Tsuen, vibrant eyes begging the older goldrider to speak up, to say something? But the older woman spared her not a glance, not even a look of disdain or dismissal; it was as though the younger woman were not even there. The older woman was fixated on something that Jada could not see, even while her eyes watched the play around her with a vagueness that... was frightening. Tsuen was still young, for a dragonrider. She should not have such a vapid, uncaring expression. Not even anger had seemed to cross her face when she had so calmly allowed to three extra stripes across Sanderon's back.
Jada's lower lip was pressed tightly between her teeth, her tanned face pale and bloodless as she watched each stripe laid across the boy's back. Why was the boy being so stubborn? Each stripe grew harder and harder, to coax the lad into a scream that would show someone he was in pain, to show the man he felt it, to encourage it along! Something!
From above, she heard a deep bellow, and a familiar voice raised in a cry. Her shoulders sagged as D'ren appeared at last, and people on the front line scattered back to let the massive Bronze in closer to the platform, for D'ren to leap off. "STOP!" The man cried, and Jada felt her shoulders sag in relief, a sob spilling from her throat. Shards, thank goodness that he had come. This mess was growing more and more wild, the flames fanning higher and higher. Around her, everyone grew silent; Above, Ronarth was still carrying on, until D'ren raised a hand.
Now, at last, the Weyrwoman opened her mouth to speak. What was she going to say? Defend herself? Defend the activity- Ah! She squeaked, flinching as D'ren- calm, collected, kind D'ren- raised his hand to strike the older Goldrider. His hand hung there, and Jada closed her eyes. If Tsuen spoke, Jada didn't see anything nor hear anything. When she opened her eyes, D'ren's firm, powerful hands were cupped to Tsuen's cheeks. Beloved. Krypth's voice was tender, affectionate. Do not cry. Yet the Weyrling's eyes were damp as D'ren stopped in front of her and Lymsleia. The Harper's slim body gave a powerful tremble, waiting for the blow to fall. She didn't have the training to deal with this, and her ignorance had shown clean and bare to the entire Weyr. His shame in her shone through in the look he gave her, but his motion was gentle. There was none of the violence and anger in it that he was willing to show to a proper leader, and the Harper hiccuped back a sob of disappointment. She had tried and she had failed and she would never be able to do any better because she was-
Your melodrama is showing, Jada. I told you not to cry. Do not, I will be most vexed with you. You are still a little goldrider, just as I am a little gold. We have much to learn before you could have been expected to be effective in calming the crowd. Not to mention you didn't wear a gown like I told you, so you probably looked as dirty as Indivara. Krypth didn't drown out what D'ren spoke to Lymsleia, but it was difficult to focus on both at once. Jada could hear him blasting the dark-skinned Healer, but the Gold didn't much care that Jada wanted to pay attention to what was being said. It was only when he stepped back, and Jada pushed for Krypth to be silent, that the dragon's chatter subsided; Jada could feel the gold 'listening' through Jada's ears, considering the words their Weyrleader spoke next.
"This is a mistake! There have been many mistakes!" D'ren's voice was a roar, and it hit Jada's ears like a battering ram. "All of you know this! We have suffered turn after turn of exile, struggling to rebuild everything we had before the plague. We watched our friends and loved ones die! We suffered in loneliness and despair, clinging on to any shred of hope we could find! We scraped and clawed for every inch, we worked hard for little return! It's been hard! And now look what we've done! We've unjustly forced our own hardships on the innocent, taking them from their homes and forcing them to endure the same hardships that we complain about so bitterly ourselves! It was words very similar to the ones that Jada had spoken in the Weyr's defense; but her words had lacked the passion and the heartbreak of one who had survived. Her words had instead carried the resignation of one who had been Stolen, and been dealt a lucky hand in the game of life to Impress a dragon, and be one of those who now belonged here. It was no wonder they had told her she was no longer one of them. But those words were not fair. Jada still wept for home, and she longed for the cold bite of a proper winter. The Katilan heat left her fatigued, and the cold gave her no freedom from its bite. She had her Hall, in the North, and her family. She missed the taste of sweetmeats, and the sound of music in a proper Hall. She missed the colors and tapestries, and stone homes, and the scents.
"What's done is done. What was done...was done out of cruel necessity. We brought these children here because we needed their help, not to torture them. And we do need them, just as they now need us." It seemed as though now, his voice gentled, though passion still rode the words, and Jada listened, Krypth with her, ears straining to hear the words of a man who had been as much a father to her as she remembered, since her own had passed on so young. In the Hall, no man had dared to become a father to Szelem's children, for the Master had wished to be mother and father both to her children, unwilling to share what had been hers and her mate's with any other. "...I want Katila to be a home to you, not a prison! That said, we are all here together now, and regardless of how we feel about one another, we need each other to survive. We are alone, friends. We are drifting at sea, and if we don't work together, our lifeboat will sink very quickly... I promise, all of us can see our homes again. We can see the Weyrs flourish again. We can all know peace again. But that can never happen if we continue to fight among ourselves. The dragonriders are meant to the protectors of Pern. We've failed our own legacy, but we did it to survive. We must survive. And if we survive today, we will still be here to protect the world tomorrow. There will be changes, and this? This is over...."
Over? What? What would be the plan to maintain order? If not the lashings, then how? Jada's mind whirled, and she felt Krypth nudge her mind, pointing her attention back to the rapidly aging man who stood strong in front of his people. "I will not tolerate spectacles like this. I will not tolerate public fighting and threats. And I will not tolerate further abuse of power... Think of the future. Think of what we all want, and what we can all help each other obtain. No one is going north without dragons...and without those to stand, there will be no dragons. Think of where togetherness can take us." Abuse of power. Had that been what Jada had done? Had that been why he had looked at her so sadly? Jada's jaw clenched, and she tried to replay events in her mind, to see exactly where she had gone wrong. Should she have been more like Tsuen, cold and proud, unmoving? And without people to Stand... If these people refused, D'ren would be forced to Steal more. B'jin and I'shan would once again be sent North, and new people would be torn from their families, but Krypth's children... would die. Die, or Impress to those who loathed them. D'ren's voice fell away, and in moments he went from the strong, powerful man, to showing every turn that he held on his shoulders. And Jada felt-
Fear?
D'ren was 65. He and Ronarth both had plenty more years to them. Tsuen was not much younger than they, if Jada recalled what she had learned. Both were new parents, though it seemed that only D'ren seemed to have a care for the child. Or care for anything. He should have many more turns yet of good health, but what if something happened? What if- what if Nirinath did not rise? What if Krypth did not rise again before Nirinath was expected? That was two, maybe three turns? What if no other Golds were born? What if- What if the Senior Queen did rise, and S'kef or N'gelt caught her, or a bronzerider without D'ren's generous heart? The Northerners wept now, and cried that their lives were unfair- but D'ren was kinder than he was given credit for, that much she knew. And what if Krypth did rise, and bore a Gold? And that Gold rose, as Krypth had, with an inexperienced Rider? It was a given that the Rider would be one of the Stolen, not one of the Katilan-born.
The next turns would have much of a story to tell. Jada watched D'ren move away, her heart quivering in fear as Lymsleia brushed past her and opened her mouth at last, babbling at the older man. And Jada watched, and felt her hand itch to slap Lymsleia so hard that all the stupid fell out at once. Maybe then they could settle down. hauling in a breath, the Harper was shocked at her own violent urge. Jada respected the girl, she reminded herself, who cared so much to help others that she ignored the fact there were others better qualified to do so. And ignored danger to do so, which was a less sensible decision, but spoke of a strong need. Maybe it wasn't so much respect, but an understanding?
The Goldrider turned and moved back towards the Sands, smiling at those who smiled to her, bending down to talk to one of the Weyrbrats. Her students missed her, she realized, and it made her ache. She would need to find the time to teach again. She wanted to. It was what she was good at, teaching. Not this politics and ruling. Jada was a simple girl, with a love of people. She had been feeling... lonely. Even in the crowd of people that surrounded her, each of them well-meaning, Jada had missed being able to reach out and touch someone's life. She had been too long a student again. She had forgotten how it felt to be a teacher, to guide and shape. Come back to me. Krypth ordered, and for one of the first times since she had first Impressed, Jada put her own wants above the desires of her dragon; Selfishly, the Harper reached out to take one of the small hands that was thrust in her direction, moving towards Harper Hall with her children.
