Nobody Likes You [M] [Solo]

The days were getting shorter. S'kef opened his eyes and peered out the window, watching with apprehension as Rukbat started to sink lower in the orange sky. The brownrider narrowed his gaze and snorted.

He hated autumn, if only because it brought winter closer. S'kef wasn't sure why he disliked winter so much. Maybe it went back to his mother's illness as a child. One of his earlier memories involved tending to her in the midst of a horrible flu while snow piled up outside. It had been an unseasonably cold winter, and young Sareskef was too young to do much more than toddle back and forth with drinks, towels, and chilled water for her.

She pulled through, but it left the future brownrider grouchy and bitter. Most kids remembered frolicking in their first snow. For S'kef, it was his first taste of responsibility. Purpose. Usefulness. Focus.

Love.

He'd loved his mother. His father too, but his mother was special. It was a different kind of love than he'd felt for J'nira and their children, but it was his first taste. He remembered watching over her, caring for her, worrying over her...Just as he worried over J'nira and her green during AL 215. S'kef remembered kneeling at the dragon's side as she heaved and coughed, creeling in agony as the plague ravaged her body. The healers had already given up.

Then, the green dragon shuddered and her last breath slipped away. J'nira screamed, and the green vanished.

S'kef watched in horror as the woman flung herself towards the nearest healer. She attacked the poor girl, screaming and slapping, clawing, pulling hair! S'kef ran to pull them apart; he could see what J'nira was after. The healer had a gleaming new scalpel in his pocket.

Peeling the women apart was easy, but when S'kef shoved the healer aside to turn back to his broken weyrmate, he didn't see her delicate hand drop to his waist.

People sometimes asked S'kef why a man like him didn't carry a knife.

S'kef's eyes widened as J'nira raised it, her eyes wild with torment and loneliness. They weren't the same eyes he'd looked into so many times before and had seen so many emotions flash through. They were the same eyes he fell in love with. He'd seen everything in those eyes; the love before a passionate kiss, the sadness while he lied poorly about his latest affair, the joy when their first daughter was placed in the mother's arms.

EThat day, they were empty.

He screamed and reached for the knife, but it was too late. Warm blood soaked his hands as he caught her, cradling her to the ground while the knife clattered to the floor. He watched in horror as she sputtered from her slashed throat. It was over before he could even get out the 'I'.

I love you


How long had it been since he'd said those words? He snarled to himself and closed his curtains. J'nira was gone, their children abandoned. S'kef wasn't isolating himself to mourn the dead. What good would it do them?

He was mourning the living.

Why couldn't he get himself together? Why couldn't he just put those wretched, horrible greenriders out of his head? How did they always bewitch him so, tempting him with their sweetness and beauty before leaving him with nothing? J'nira was strong. She could have survived. She could have recovered.

But no. Instead, she left him alone.

He would never give another one the chance to do the same. He wouldn't! He couldn't....

You must

S'kef's heart skipped a beat. He could sense grave seriousness in Tyrrisath, accented by just a hint of anger. He needs you.

Is he going to stab himself

No

Then I don't care. Fuck him!

Tyrrisath rumbled with distaste. Rather than arguing, the brown dragon pressed his mind against that of his bonded and opened himself to S'kef's tormented uncertainty. There was a lot of pain there, frustration and pain stemming from the loss of something dear. The dragon took it as his own. He felt S'kef's anguish at the loss of his partner, his misery in being so alone, his frustration at having no purpose. S'kef gradually lowered his defenses, slumping to his desk as he reflected on his own uselessness. He'd failed one weyrmate and two children, then an entire Weyr, his Weyrleader, his colleagues...and the most important thing of all, the only person in the world who actually cared for him at all.

The only person he had any capacity to love.

Tyrrisath crooned. S'kef opened his eyes and sat up, alarmed at the alien sound coming through the walls, for Tyrrisath never crooned or purred. "Tyr," S'kef said lightly. "I love you. You are the only thing. You are all I need."

Tyrrisath didn't have to say anything for S'kef to feel his accusations.

Fool.

Then, the brown dragon forced his will upon his rider, lashing out with all of his might. S'kef reeled as he felt Tyrrisath forcibly turn all those emotions around and back against him, flooding him with a filtered and amplified version of his own projected self-loathing. The brownrider cried out and recoiled to the floor, where he could do nothing but claw a himself and let out miserable wail.

He didn't have to ask or even think about what his dragon had done. Tyrrisath had showed him something very important.

I've done this to myself

S'kef growled in a sudden irate fury as an image flashed into his mind. His purpose! His focus! His love!

Come on, Tyr. We're going.