The Crying Isle [I'shan]

Looking down as his life fell away below him, he watched Deep Wood grow small. His mind screamed as his heart was ripped out of his chest and left behind to fall away back down towards the wood he had been so cruelly snatched from. He did not ask for this. He did not want it.

As Ilveriath, with I'shan on his back, still gripped him firmly, they entered the frigid nothingness of between.

When next he saw light, and heat, it was foreign. Even the air tasted different. Crushed, he looked down and saw a good sized island. Is that where he was going to be brought? Was that where the dragons were hiding? It didn't look like much at all. But he did realize something as the ground came closer, there was no way he could swim away and hope to reach the far shore.

What was his life going to be like now? How long would he have to wait before an opportunity to escape presented itself? These thoughts burned through his mind, as his eyes moistened with tears. It was only the wind. Yes, the wind caused by dragon flight was getting into his eyes.

With his one free arm he swiped it over his eyes and grew determined never to show his pain or his crushing sadness. He could not be seen as weak. When facing a dangerous beast, one had to remain calm, think clearly and always be strong. He remembered his father's hunter's training and applied it now. He would be strong, he would try to think clearly. Remaining calm though was easier said than done.

As they emerged, Ilveriath let out a deep growl of pain.

I'shan winced as well and couldn't help but let out a little whine of his own. He clutched his own shoulder, shocked with the intensity of the pain that filtered from his dragon to him. How strong Ilveriath was, to bear such pain with no more that a shudder and a growl! I'shan's eyes teared up as he reached down to stroke the dragon's hide, trying his best to comfort him.

I'shan wasn't usually the one doing the comforting. Ilveriath was always so calm and strong for him! Always the one guiding and soothing, always the one standing strong. I'shan didn't even know, but the placid blue has his own world of worries and fears that he lovingly kept away from his fragile rider's consciousness. Ilveriath wanted to protect I'shan from all he darkness he could, especially after everything he'd already endured.

Today, that was a difficult task. I'shan was a mess. Something told Ilv that it was about to get worse.

The dragon spiraled downwards and landed gently on the sandy beach of the isle.  He held Sanderon aloft for a moment and projected as much calmness and reassurance as he could. Be calm, young one Ilveriath implored. His eyes flashed yellow as he gradually and gently let Sanderon to the ground.

I'shan didn't dismount yet. He pulled his flight goggles back and glared at the wound in his dragon's shoulder, left by the arrow that he'd hastily ripped out right before flashing between. I am fine, I'shan Ilveriath said lightly. I'shan wasn't convinced, but for the time being he accepted it.

He slid down and set his jaw, staring hard at the boy. I'shan was overwhelmed with pity, but also a stab of anger. After all, Sanderon had harmed his dragon.

"I..." Wait, don't say sorry. You already said that. The bluerider cut his eyes away and sighed. "...I....come on. Let's go get your paperwork done and get you settled in. I owe you an explanation."

He turned to walk to the barracks. He paused. "And don't try swimming. It's too far. You'll drown."

Sanderon did not wince when the island below came rushing up to meet them. He looked down and watched, trying to see everything he could. From this vantage point he could easily see the layout of the land and buildings upon it. There wasn't much here. He quickly came to the conclusion that except for Ilveriath, there were no dragons here. There was no where to hide a clutch of eggs either unless they kept them in the woods but that did not seem right.

Perhaps, he quickly surmised, this was a holding place for those that had been captured.

They spiraled down and finally landed upon the sandy beach there. The landing was surprisingly gentle. Sanderon was eager to feel the ground beneath his feet again so he could run. Run anywhere on the island and just left alone to gather his thoughts and come up with a plan. But he did not feel the ground at his feet. He was held aloft by the blue dragon.

A sudden, almost overwhelming feeling of calmness and reassurance blanketed his mind. At first Sanderon relaxed and felt at ease. His logic kicked in and he opened his mouth and began yelling obscenities at the dragon. "Stay out of my mind!" He finally roared with fury.

Finally being set down with the request that he be calm, Sanderon had it in his mind to race off that very moment. But with his full weight upon his own feet again, his injured left knee began to scream in protest against his plans.

Growling out with murderous hatred in his eyes towards Ilveriath, he followed after I'shan instead. His steps were carefully placed as to not alert this demon pair that he was injured. He would not allow them to see his weakness or pain.

To the barracks he headed with I'shan's near apology screaming in his mind. Sanderon was not stupid enough to chance the swim off the island. Did these people think him stupid? Visions of him pummeling I'shan to a bloody pulp swam around in his mind, as he followed this hated man. He did not act upon his thoughts. Not yet. He wanted to hear I'shan's explanations. Knowledge was power. The more he had, the better his chances of escape.

I'shan watched the pitiful display, his mouth downturned and his eyes filled with sadness and apprehension. Does he think we can't tell he's hurt? he asked, shaking his head in pity.

Even if he could hide it well, I would be able to sense his pain Ilveriath reminded his bonded. I'shan sighed and reached out to stroke the dragon's hide. I'm sorry we had to do go do this again, Ilv

I am not bothered. I am the one who is sorry for you. I'shan smiled weakly at the comment, but remained silent. He turned his head around to watch Sanderon. The poor kid had been injured in the scuffle, and I'shan didn't feel right just forcing him to walk. He wanted to offer a supportive shoulder, but such a small gesture couldn't make up for what he'd done. I'shan was too much of a coward to offer. His fear of rejection was too great.

"Come on in," he said as they finally reached the barracks. He pushed the door open and motioned for Sanderon to go inside. The lobby was sparse, featuring only a small desk and a couple of chairs. A stack of paper and some quills rested on the desk as well; forms for the searchrider to figure out. Shards, I'shan hated those forms.

The bluerider closed the door behind Sand and moved to the desk, where he hastily reached for the papers. "My name is I'shan," he said, unable to remember if he'd already given his name or not. "And I'm a searchrider for Katila Weyr. You see...."

And then came the story. I'shan glossed over the plague and the exile, his muscles tensing with discomfort at even the mere thought. He didn't want to talk about the plague, and the kid was about to hear about it from everyone anyhow. I'shan skipped over it with a trembling voice and moved on to more recent turns; the rebuilding, the plague scare, the clutch...and the searches.

"I know it sucks," I'shan said, frowning. "But for us, it's a matter of life and death. You'll get to go home eventually, and well..Ilv says you have that special something in you." He smiled hopefully.

"Now come on. I have to fill this out...can you give me your name and year of birth, please?" His voice weakened with his resolve. I'shan didn't handle conflict well, and boy did he expect some.

Somehow he managed to enter the barracks and looked around with angry, suspicious eyes. He was automatically relieved to see a nearby chair he could sit in but refused to do so until told. Every detail no matter how small was collected automatically by his eyes and given a place in his mind. Everything in this room, except his reason for being there, was logical. The chairs facing the desk were on the opposite side from the door, thus allowing the rider that brought the prisoner in to be between them and the door. The paperwork on the desk was for collecting information. It all made perfect sense to Sanderon.

Except why he was there. Sure they had told him that they needed him and that he could possibly impress a dragon but nothing else. He hated not knowing. It brought fear up into his heart and mind. He hated his own fear and so anger was a quick result. Thankfully, that anger was just anger. His rage, for now, was silent.

When I'shan had moved to the desk, Sanderon did not wait for the invitation to sit that never came. He just did it out of necessity. Rubbing his left knee as inconspicuously as he could he listened to the 'history' lesson the man squirmed through. He wanted to spit. But he didn't. He kept his silence.

When he was asked for his name and birth turn, he kept his silence again. He merely kept his gaze focused upon I'shan and fumed silently with dangerous anger burning in his eyes. His arms he now crossed over his chest and he forced himself to relax slightly in his chair. These ones seemed to know too much about him already. He wasn't giving them anything more. How did they find him in the first place. Was it such a horribly unlucky day for him or did they know he would be where he was? And if so, how?

"I'll answer your questions if you answer mine. You said I could go home at some point. When? ...And where are the dragons you spoke of? I don't see them here. Tell me that and I might tell you what year I was born."

I'shan frowned and gripped his quill. Was this kid really so serious that he was going to try to hold his birthday hostage in exchange for information?

"Listen kid," I'shan said softly, closing his eyes and shaking his head in exhaustion. His stomach was still queasy from the whole ordeal; the anxiety, the guilt, the fear, the pain. Poor Ilveriath was wounded and it had been a sloppy search all together. I'shan wasn't looking forward to reporting the details, but at least one good thing would come of it: if you did something badly enough, maybe you wouldn't be asked to do it again.

"We know it sucks. I know it sucks," he said, frowning yet again. It really didn't suit him. "But for us, it's a survival thing.  We want to make you feel as wanted and as at home here as you can, so please. Drop the crap. IUf you refuse to tell me your birthday, I'll just write down on this paper that you were a wher about it, all right?" His words came out harsher than he meant, but his tone was more stressed than actually angry. He wanted to be mad at the kid who'd hurt his dragon, but who could really blame him?

Ilveriath tried his best to calm his bonded, pressing his mind against I'shan's and soothing him. Be gentle with him, love he reminded I'shan, doing his best to slam the pain into the back of his mind just so I'shan wouldn't have to feel it.

The bluerider relaxed. "Sorry," he said, shaking his head and looking back down at the paper. He wrote something down. Attitude...negative

His eyes flickered back to Sanderon. "I do owe you an answer though. Look...we've been trying to come home for a long time, but there haven't been enough of us." He left out the fact that our queen is a bitch whore about it and we can't leave until she has a grown daughter or she dies, since Sanderon didn't need to know that. If he was forthcoming with his answers and behavior, maybe I'shan would tell him!

"...But the short answer is, 'as soon as possible, but probably not for a while'. It depends on how quickly we can build up and how well everyone gets along. If you cooperate and pull your weight, we'll do everything we can to make you feel at home and the whole thing will go smoother." I'shan himself wasn't as anxious to go home as some of the others, but he understood the desire. He understood that the northerners had every right to go home, and if they had to be taken as a necessary evil, they at least deserved the swiftest return possible. None of that would help in this situation, though.

"...I can't give you an exact number. It will vary wildly depending on if Nirinath gives us another queen anytime soon. I'm sorry."

He wrote down some more things, then sighed. "So look. You'll be kept here until you settle in. Once the dragons read that you won't try to escape, we'll take you over to the Weyr and give you a room. You'll have everything you need provided for you. We require everyone to do chores, but they're pretty easy to get out of the way...So, think of it as an extended vacation."

With the swelling in his knee making his pain worse, Sanderon sat there with his arms still crossed and his eyes narrowed angrily as the man in front of the desk rambled on. Sand listened to every word I'shan said and still had no definite answer to his questions. He was getting very irritable and his frustration was only growing with each moment he sat there. If this man apologized one...more...time...Sanderon might just have to get up and punch I'shan in the face. It just made him sick.

Sorry to have broken your parent's hearts. Sorry for stealing your very chance at finishing your manhood ceremony. Sorry for making your supportive brothers think that you were a failure. Sorry for stealing the only life you've ever known. Sorry for tearing you away from your loving family. Sorry...

Sanderon spit onto the floor. "In other words, you have no clue how long I'll be kept captive here?" He growled menacingly.

When I'shan suggested that he just enjoy it all and treat is as a vacation, his eyes widened with incredulity. Not being able to help himself, something in him snapped and his rage came slamming into his chest. Pain or no pain, he stood up, leaned over the desk and swiped his arm across it, trying to scatter all that was on it onto the floor.

Into I'shan's face he would not scream. No. This time, his 'quiet' rage had settled. It was something he had never experienced before and it felt dangerous. In a tight voice through clenched teeth he spoke very slowly and very distinctly. "Sanderon. Born 06.09 of 212. And 'this'..." He glared murderously, "...is not a vacation."

Why he chose to give his name and birth date as the man had requested was a mystery. Did it really matter? Perhaps it was a poor attempt to reclaim what little he had left; Himself.

The dagger on his belt, remained in his belt. Though his eyes and voice might make him seem like the murderous type, he had no intention of opening a hole in I'shan's throat. There was no reason to at this point. His capture had already taken place. To kill the man now would just make things worse. So he refrained. But his eyes still tried to kill the man as he continued to glare.

How awkward.

I'shan never had handled stressful, intense situations well. His natural tendencies were to joke, panic, or flee, and none of those were viable options in this setting. He felt genuinely bad for the kid, but at this point even he was tired of hearing his own apologies and explanations. He'd been a spectacular failure at comforting his last searchee, too. What more was there for him to do, stretch his neck out for the boy to slash open with that dagger he kept eyeing? I'shan knew he should take it away, but the actual capture had used up his daily allotment of bravery, it would seem.

He just signed grumpily and jotted down the information he'd been given. "All right then, 'Sanderon'," he said as he folded the form (which he was not supposed to do, but shard it) and put it in his breast pocket. "Look...I'm gonna go now and give you some time to settle in, unless you have questions. The barracks are in the hallway behind me, and there are plenty of supplies. Someone will be out to check on you shortly." He hated to just leave the kid there, but what could he do? Offer to read him a bedtime story?

The little bluerider looked away, awkwardness setting in again as his feet failed to move forward. He'd just dismissed himself, but it didn't do much good if your body didn't answer your summons to get up and leave. Perhaps it was pride. I'shan's ego had been bruised by the whole ordeal. His petty, selfish side wanted to throw a fit at the boy for being a brat and injuring his dragon, but even I'shan was not that contrary. He'd just put the boy through the worst day of his life, and his best excuse was 'my boss told me to'. He couldn't very well knock him down and take his lunch money, too.

Finally, after a long while of just sulking, the bluerider rose to his feet. "Take care, kid," he said with low sincerity, his voice dragging as if through mud. He made his way to the door of the barracks, where he greeted Ilveriath's soft nose with his hands. Thanks for having my back, Ilv

---

You can close there, unless Sanderon has anything else he wants to ask :)

Sanderon did not received the reaction he had thought he might. I'shan did not fight back. He did not yell in return. He simply wrote down a few more things, put the hide paper in his pocket and left him. Sanderon just stood there leaning upon the desk with anguish threatening to expose his true feelings.

When the man that had stolen him mounted his dragon and blinked between, Sanderon tried desperately to shove his torment down. Anger and rage were brought up as a defensive mechanism to help him cope with this nightmare he couldn't wake up from.

Badly bruised kneecap or not, that did not stop him from trying to overturn, rip up or destroy whatever he could lay his hands on in that hateful office. Tripping over the broken chair he had sat upon he fell hard. Laying there upon the floor his rage fled and heart-wrenching sobs took it's place.

Sanderon cried until nothing was left. Picking himself up at last, he looked around the room that he had 'destroyed' and frowned. If he was to ever get off this island, he would have to show convincing evidence that he could be trusted. He wasn't getting off to a very good start.

He could not hide all evidence of his rage but maybe if he tried to clean up the worst of it, the shock of the room would not be so great on whoever it was that was suppose to check up on him. Halfway through, he realized that it was hopeless.

Not caring anymore, he looked around the room that didn't look 'that' bad anymore and simply walked out the door. Limping down to the beach, he sat and stared at the waters. A million different emotions and thoughts made his mind a place of chaos and torment. He swore right then and there, that he would get home to his family again, no matter what it took. He could not let them think he was dead.

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Done. Thanks.