Trapped Within

28.04.232 - evening

When Sanderon's body began to be moved without his consent, his mind began to rage again. Surprisingly, his body remained as limp as before. Was his mind so completely gone that he could not control his own body? The pain he felt increased sharply as he was tossed like a sack of firestone over T'shiro's shoulder.

Behind the angry rage boiling in his mind, a part of him grabbed hold of Ronarth's mind and clung on like a frightened child. It was the bronze's comforting touch in his mind that gave him the only hope he had left.

Don't leave me! His terrified mind cried, as the strong sedative was administered by a healer before he could be taken out to the isle. It was for everyone's safety including his own. His mind sank into oblivion shortly after and he knew no more for several days.

---

Time Passes

After being locked in a secure room, Sanderon's wounds were cleaned, re-stitched and covered in numbweed and clean bandages. Not knowing how their 'mental' patient would react to being locked up, they kept him under heavy sedation for a few days. His wounds needed a chance to heal before he did himself permanent damage.

During his days of being unaware he was cared for like an infant. He was carefully given a soft food diet one little bite at a time until his body either rejected it or swallow instinctively. Every time his body relieved itself he was cleaned. He was bathed and his wounds were tended to as needed.

---

03.05.232 (Current Thread date)

On the morning of the sixth day after he was brought to the island it was determined that Sanderon could be safely taken out of his sedation.

The first sensation that came to Sanderon was sound, followed quickly by a terrible thirst and a vicious headache.

First the sound. Sanderon concentrated on it without moving. He really couldn't move at this point yet anyway. Someone was singing softly. It was a comforting voice; a male's voice and it sounded good to his ears. It was something he could focus on while he lay there on his back not able to do anything else. A short while passed as he listened, before his thirst gave him reason to lick his dry lips. He was very parched. His tongue felt so dry and thick within his mouth.

The vicious headache that slammed into his senses a moment after his thirst came made him moan. He did not even try to open his eyes at this point. Ever so slowly, he reached for his head with his arms and held it tight as he very carefully turned onto his side and curled up into a fetal position, moaning as he moved.

Was his mind his own again at this point? It was hard to tell. The drugs were still wearing off at this point and he really wasn't thinking anything at all. 

After receiving his new assignment, I'shan was more than just a little anxious. Things never seemed to go well where his searching was involved. Erisi and his obnoxious mouth were one thing, but this Sanderon kid? Wan't it bad enough that he gave poor Ilveriath a scar, but he almost incited the Weyr into two riots in a three-day period?

At first, I'shan had blamed his dragon. It was all Ilveriath's fault for choosing insane people. Erisi was no catch, and while Valerian wasn't a problem kid or anything, no one could deny that there was something odd about him. After huffing and puffing about it for some time while Ilveriath sat and accepted the accusations in silence, I'shan had to admit to himself that he was looking for someone to blame other than himself. Anyone to blame. Anyone at all.

He wished things had gone better with Erisi. Instead, they'd escalated to a personal grudge match. Eri was the initiator, but I'shan's easily-wounded pride hadn't helped matters. The bluerider alternated between dragging himself through the mud in guilt and raging at the young man. It was just a disaster, start to finish.

But now he'd topped himself when it came to insane search choices. And best of all? Sanderon and Erisi had been searched in the same sharding month. Same month!  Was there a double full moon that month or something? I'shan pleaded temporary insanity. He had to stop blaming Ilveriath eventually, though. He couldn't bring himself to any more after he realized one very important fact: Ilveriath had a historical interest in young men who needed stabilizing influences in their lives.


Once again, Valerian is an exception Ilveriath reminded his rider on that particular cool afternoon. I'shan had several days to stress over his upcoming assignment before he was actually placed on the island. Sanderon had been sedated and locked away, but today the drugs were being withheld and he would be returning to the world of the living. I'shan sat outside, Ilveriath's head resting beside him in the grass.

I'shan wrinkled his nose at the dragon's little joke. Yeah, yeah. I was thinking about MYSELF, you know. You know, insane kid who n-

Yes, love. I suppose I have a poor eye for mental stability the dragon crooned as he lifted his head and licked I'shan's face. The bluerider laughed  brightly and reached out to stroke the dragon's muzzle, temporarily forgetting his problems as he enjoyed a tender moment with his partner. It didn't take long for the thoughts to come back, though.

I hope he's okay, Ilv. It's all my fault

Not entirely Ilveriath said. We were required to search

You gave me a chance to back off

We simply would have taken someone else. In either case, I glimpsed the rage in him and yet chose him anyhow. Much of the fault is mine

Hey, even Larrikith makes mistakes. That Talian kid tried to off himself. Now that's crazy I'shan's dismissive mental tone was intended to mask just how badly that whole incident had disturbed him. He pretended not to care, but ever since then he was terrified that one of his own searchees might do the same thing. He wasn't sure how he would live with that.

He sighed and shook his head. We'll figure it out. I'm going to try to be patient...

I will help you

I'shan relaxed and rolled his head back, resting it against the wall behind him. He started singing softly, less out of contentment and more out of a desire to soothe his own nerves. He basked in Ilveriath's calming glow as the song floated away from his lips. He had a lovely voice, but he used it so rarely these days. While he contented himself, Ilveriath's consciousness crept into the nearby bedroom, where he examined Sanderon in silence.

The blue watched for some time. He gently nudged the boy's mind, projecting his calm protectiveness onto him. he lingered close by, hoping that his own silent aid might make I'shan's job easier.  It wasn't until Sanderon actually woke that the dragon spoke.

Hello, Sanderon the dragon said.  He quietly informed I'shan that the boy was awake. The singing stopped.

The Weyrleader has asked us to watch over you. I'shan is most concerned Ilveriath said, steady and soft. A moment later, footsteps hammered their way to the door and it slowly pushed open. There stood I'shan, cautious expression tugging the corners of his mouth down.

"Hey."

Hello, Sanderon.

A voice suddenly appearing in his mind, made Sanderon's body jerk reflexively. Ronarth? His mind produced a name that he quickly dismissed. Not Ronarth.

The singing stopped and Sanderon's mouth opened as if he were going to call out to whoever had stopped. He wanted the singing to continue. But he did not speak. No words came out of his mouth. Closing his lips together, he moved slightly as the voice spoke again.

The Weyrleader has asked us to watch over you. I'shan is most concerned.

I'shan? I'shan! Sanderon was not angry or enraged. He was scared. When he heard the voice of the man call out from nearby, he uncurled from his fetal position slowly. Still holding onto his head, he blinked open his eyes as he continued to lay there on his side. At first everything was blurry. Then when things came into focus he looked upon the man that had captured him. Next he took in the room around him.

There were no windows. It was a small room with a sturdy door. There was a single bed, an empty bucket in a corner and little else.

Had he just been captured? Had the nightmarish turn and a half only been a dream? Did his public lashing never take place? Why was I'shan here? Could he go home now? Licking his dry lips, his mind raced. His face and eyes though held no emotion at all. Not even a twitch could be seen. He looked blank.

Realizing that he could not speak to I'shan, Sanderon kept his gaze upon the man in the doorway but reached out for Ilveriath instead. His mental voice was not strong.

Can I go home now? ...I'm thirsty. My head hurts. Why can't I talk? Why did he stop singing? ...Don't hurt me. Sanderon's body was extremely weak from disuse, but his mind was a little stronger than it had been when he had first been sedated and taken to the island. He was not well yet, but he wasn't raging with insanity either. In fact there was no rage in his mind at this current moment at all. 

A less sensitive dragon would not have picked up on Sanderon's distant cry. A less intelligent one like Ronarth wouldn't have even stood a chance. Ilveriath, however, was already listening. He let out a soft, humming croon as he heard the boy's words. Be still, the dragon ensured him, all is well. Afterwards, he send a private whisper to I'shan, informing him of the boy's desire for water.

I'shan almost jumped. "Oh!" he gasped softly, turning and leaving abruptly, not pausing to consider that it might confused the poor boy. He returned shortly after with a cup of water. "Here," I'shan said as he hurried over to Sanderon's bedside. Much like when he served N'gelt, I'shan was filled with an inexplicable and overwhelming desire to please. It wasa part of his nature. While selfish on many levels, the little bluerider liked to be liked, and he had a larger sense of guilt and conscience than he could easily admit. It was incidents like this which brought his guilty side to the forefront, clashing with the more selfish side and putting a readable expression of conflict on his face.

Was it really selfishness, or was it fear or rejection? Ilveriath watched with apprehension as I'shan knelt in the floor beside Sanderon's bed and offered him the cup, gently holding it so the young man wouldn't have to support it himself.

"Are you all right? The healers said your back should be feeling better by now," I'shan said. His voice was muted and low, his movements stiff and awkward.  He didn't know what else to say or how to approach, so he just spoke. It had worked for him before, but it also occasionally led to disaster. He couldn't being himself to make eye contact.

When the dragon replied with a comforting assurance that all was well. Sanderon rejoiced silently that he had been heard. He was also relieved that he wasn't going to be the object of I'shan's revenge for having shot an arrow into his dragon.

Suddenly remembering that event with very detailed recollection, caused him to stiffen. He was completely helpless. The dragon he had shot had said all was well. Was that really true? Could it be believed? Trying to swallow his fear in a very dry throat left him coughing. He was soon better but his head pounded with the action.

I'shan had jerked suddenly and left the room without a word. What was going on? What was happening? His mind tried to be calm but couldn't help the apprehension that tried to flood it with these strange set of confusing events.

When I'shan hurried back into the room, the water cup was not noticed at first and the man's quick approach had him reaching out a trembling hand to ward off whatever blow was about to come. At the last moment, he saw what was happening. His face was still void of emotion. He was suspicious of the water but quickly accepted that it was okay.

Pulling back his arm he rested his palm on the bed in front of his belly. When the cup was offered kindly, he lifted his head with effort and looked at I'shan carefully while he drank greedily. He stopped and had to cough. Then he reached for the water again with his mouth and continued to take in the refreshing liquid.

I'shan spoke as he drank and when he had taken his fill he lay his head back down and was glad that his mouth and throat felt better. His terrible headache upon first coming awake was not as severe either. Was he alright though? The healers said his back....?

The lashing!

It wasn't a nightmare then? It had really taken place? That would now explain the tight aching feeling he had across his flesh there. Looking down with the memory at one of his wrists he saw evidence of injury there too although it was a lot better than it had been and was no longer bandaged.

It was only then that his blank face moved with the first hint of emotion. A slight creasing of his forehead became evident even though his mouth and eyes did not respond.

It was not rage. It was fear and great sadness.

He opened his mouth to respond to I'shan, but like before nothing would come out. He tried harder with the same results. Turning his mind once again to Ilveriath, he sent his silent words out with frantic thoughts.

Please help me. I don't know if I'll ever be okay. I can't speak. ...What's wrong with me? Why am I here? What happened?

His thoughts are clouded and muddled Ilveriath said with displeasure. He snorted and shifted his position outside, pressing his nose lightly against the wall as if moving just a little bit closer would help him hear and see more clearly. Ilveriath was a sensitive dragon, and while I'shan claimed the beast had a good eye for crazy, Ilveriath was more interested in lost souls. He'd found one on the hatching sands 19 turns ago. It looked like he'd found another one now.

I'shan breathed sparingly as he held the helped the young man drink. The bluerider was a whirlwind of mixed emotions; he liked being liked. He always had. Searching wasn't exactly a way to win friends, but he liked being good at things, and feeling like the Weyrleader valued him, too. After these recent outbursts, I'shan was completely humiliated. One of his candidates had caused a huge full. His! And he was the Weyrsecond's mate! He should have done a better job.

Well, he'd certainly done a good job messing up this kid's life. All I'shan could see as he looked over the young man was Erisi; Erisi, who was so mierable and hated him so much. The only one of his searchees who liked him at all was Farlint, and Far got his leg shattered so badly at the last hatching that it was anyone's guess if he'd ever been right again. Once again, I'shan thought...all my fault

"I'm sorry about what happened," I'shan said at length. He set the cup down and seated himself in the floor, folding his hands in front of him and looking down. He felt like just as much of a prisoner on that island as Sanderon did.

There was something different in his tone now. His apology was far more sincere than the ones he's sputtered out turns ago when they last shared this space. I'shan sighed. "...It wasn't supposed to be this way." Shards, he had to get Erisi out of his head. This was not Erisi, this was someone else. Someone totally different.

I'shan thought back on the lashing and the cruel demeanor of his own lover, N'gelt, and he felt the tears returning. His throat tightened and he turned his head away stubbornly. I hate it he growled to himself. Why do I always sharding cry?!

When he realized he could not speak his thoughts, Sanderon felt the sharp tang of frustration wrapping around his thoughts. What was wrong with him?! He tried to frown but nothing happened. Reaching up with a hand he touched his lips to see if perhaps he was and just did not know it. They trembled slightly in weakness as they examined his face. Why was there no emotion on his face? His mind was certainly not as blank as his face felt.

Maybe it was the drugs? He imagined that he had been drugged. How else could he be here and not remember the journey? Why was he here anyway? Ilveriath had not answered his questions. Perhaps he had not heard.

The pain in his head was slowly going away. That was the only thing he felt he could be relieved with. Why couldn't he speak though?! He had so many questions.

Giving up for now, he rested his gaze upon I'shan and watched as the man's face held all sorts of emotions. What was the man thinking? Watching as the blue rider sat down upon the floor beside him and set the cup upon the floor he listened as I'shan spoke those hated words. "I'm sorry..."

He remembered I'shan saying those same words several times while he was fighting for his freedom and then afterward when his capture was sure. He had nearly raged every time those words came out of anyone's throat. He hated...

Something was new. Those words sounded different now. I'shan was different. He was sincere.

The rage that began to trickle through his drug-filled mind, dissipated into nothing. Sanderon listened as he continued his heartfelt apology.

"...It wasn't supposed to be this way."

Instead of wanting lash out and strike the man that had caused him so much misery, Sanderon just watched unable to look away. When it was obvious that unwanted tears were coming to I'shan's eyes Sanderon did something he never thought he would ever do.

He reached out a weak hand and placed it gently upon the man's shoulder. He wanted to console. He wanted to forgive. Would I'shan know what he was offering if Sand could not express himself?

Trying once more to reach Ilveriath, he tried to collect his muddled thoughts together as best he could and pushed out the same words he had so recently despised. I'm sorry too. If the dragon did not hear him now, Sand hoped his hand on the man's shoulder would be enough.

I'shan's lungs filled slowly as he felt the hand on his shoulder. The bluerider still refused to turn around, instead freezing in place as he tried to interpret what such a touch might mean. Well Ilv, he thought dejectedly, He's about to try and kill me. Nice knowing you.

Ilveriath grunted on the other side of the wall. Dearest I'shan, do you not think you are being a touch dramatic? the creature said slowly, offering his bonded a reassuring mind nudge. I hardly think he's capable of killing you. But more importantly, he does not seem to want to do so The dragon spoke with cautious optimism, his mind wrapping protectively around the young man as he strained to hear those distant, buried thoughts.

When he uncovered them, he did a double take. Had he really just heard what he thought he heard? He paused and continued his silent watch, digging for what he only suspected might be there. Was it remorse? True, legitimate remorse?

Well, that made three of them.

Look to him, dear Ilveriath said, gentle and coaxing.

I'shan winced a little bit and almost mindlessly followed the order. He turned around and looked, seeing those eyes staring back at him. His own red eyes widened. "...I, um...." he said. What was he supposed to do? What was the kid telling him? Hesitantly, as if fearful he'd spook the young man, he turned around and took the hand in his.

"...I don't guess there's anything I can really say, except that I'm supposed to help you get better," he murmured. "And...I hope you do. I want to help." It felt weird, to be saying things like this. "...Will you let me?"

After his hand was placed upon I'shan's shoulder, Sanderon's resolve to forgive the man did not lessen. In fact it grew more determined. Too much hate. Too much rage. He couldn't go back to his family. Not now and probably not ever at the rate he was going. He was tired of being so angry. It just wasn't worth it any more. It had only made things worse and not just for himself.

When I'shan did not turn around straight away, Sanderon's eyes finally showed the slightest amount of emotion. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly and his brow creased again. He was sorry, sad and extremely tired in body and spirit. He didn't want to fight anymore. He hoped I'shan didn't either.

When I'shan turned and took his hand in his own, Sanderon hoped.

I'shan's desire that Sanderon get better was more comforting than the man might ever realize. What he said next, made Sanderon's blank face relax. The drugs were wearing off more and his face could now express what his slaughtered mind was trying to show. Gratitude. A softening of his eyes and the slightest hint of a sincere smile could be seen now as he answered I'shan's last question with his voice.

It was just a whisper offered with great effort, but it was there just the same. A word, just one. Would he let I'shan help him?

"Yes."

The bluerider's face was awash with relief. "I'm glad," he said, adjusting himself so he was actually facing the young man. I'shan let go of his hand and rested his chin on the edge of the bed and let out a length, relieved sigh. "Shards, kid," he muttered. He understood Sanderon's inability to speak. In and of itself, it was no problem. Of course, it also meant there was nothing stopping I'shan from taking non-stop.

"I just.....bleh.." the bluerider mumbled, sinking comically into his chosen resting spot. He looked so lethargic, his usual energy dampened and smothered by the situation at hand. I'shan had enough gnawing guilt in his life, but things like this left him both drained and indecisive. What could he actually do? He didn't know how to take care of someone; he was used to being taken care of. He didn't know how to apologize, at least not for real. As Sanderon had seen, he could squeal apologies all day long and never mean it.  Even when he did mean it, how could he convince someone that he wasn't just full of shells?

Haha, Shels, he thought sadly. I wonder what Mom would say if she knew I was a kid-snatcher

I hardly think it matters, Ilveriath said. It wasn't exactly a lie. The dragon didn't understand his bonded's perpetual attachment to the long-dead woman, but he knew it was important. So, the dragon said the most consoling thing he knew to say, hoping I'shan would accept the feelings behind the words, even if he knew the words themselves were spoken purely to console him.

I'shan just sighed again. "Are you at least feeling all right? Ilv says that your thoughts are unclear, but he's trying real hard," he bluerider said dejectedly. He was just talking to fill the silence, as if by doing so he;d eventually come across the magic words that would make it all better. "The Weyrleader said you can come back once you've calmed down. He was pretty pissed off, but he insisted that someone come look out for you so you wouldn't hurt yourself or get lonely or anything." I'shan wished he could claim to have volunteered. No, the bronzerider had volunteered...and D'ren picked him anyhow.

Withdrawing his hand when I'shan let go of it, he pulled it closer and watched as the blue rider rested his chin on the edge of his bed. He seemed extremely relieved to hear Sand accept his help. Now as he watched the man sink into his chosen spot he began to wonder about him. When I'shan's mouth opened, the man began to look so dejected and mentally exhausted to the extreme. There seemed to be so many emotions and thoughts crossing I'shan's face. Sanderon was at a loss as to how he should interpret all of them. Giving up, he just lay there with his cheek upon the pillow and listened.

When I'shan began to ask him questions, he wondered how he should answer. He wondered if he even could.

Moving a little at a time with muscles unaccustomed to being used, Sanderon brought himself slowly into a sitting position with his knees up, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Exhaling with the effort it took, he frowned at just how weak his body felt. How long was he unconscious? Why was he drugged in the first place? Why was the weyrleader furious with him? What had he done?

Worrying about it to such a degree, he did not think about I'shan's questions right away. Instead, he tried to remember. It was not pleasant, for his mind immediately brought him to the point of his public lashing. He stiffened with the memory and gripped his head a little tighter with the harshness of the scenes and sensations he began to relive.

What happened next? D'ren had saved him. He had come and stopped the torture and humiliation. Then the weyrleader had helped him to the healer hall. He remembered trying to leave the room before he had been patched after D'ren left him there. But he couldn't remember why? Talian brought him back and cared for his hurt, making him feel better. Then what happened?

This is where his mind began to grow increasingly fuzzy and disconnected.

Jada had come. Yes, he remembered her there in his recovery room. The smell of his favorite meal came to his mind. He could almost smell it even now. It was the kind of meal his mother had always made. But what then? Had he enjoyed the meal with Jada? Had she just left it and gone? His mind skipped over whatever might have happened and went straight towards a very blurry memory of flowers and a kind young woman making a nice bouquet for the vase in his room. His mind slipped terribly at this point. Shattered half-thoughts broke away and would not come together in his mind. He could not go any further. He tried. He pushed his mind desperately. Silently he begged his mind to stay whole and remember. He wanted to know. He had to know!

What had he done?

Moaning out his distress, his hands gripped his blond hair as he fought his own mind. The emotions on Sanderon's face were more observant. The drugs were almost done wrecking their havoc on his body. But his mind still seemed trapped. If Sand could not remember, maybe I'shan could tell him. But how to ask? He could hardly speak.

Without lifting his head from his hands, Sanderon's voice came out sounding strained and still only above a whisper. "What happ-?" He could not go on and it frustrated him to no end. Were the drugs messing with his mind? Were they making his emotions weak? Why was his eyes crying now? He never cried. Tears began to leak and run down his face but he was too weak to bother with wiping them away. Closing his eyes tight, he turned his head away and hoped I'shan did not see. I'shan's questions were left unanswered and forgotten.

He just breathed now with his mouth slightly open. He hated to cry. What was more, he hated not having full control of his memory or mind.

Am I going insane?

I'shan had no idea to do. He wanted to console the kid, but I'shan wasn't exactly a gold medalist when it came to comforting others. He tried, but his loud mouth had a way of ruining things. His entirely inappropriate apology for his lewd conduct at the new turn's eve gather was recent enough proof of that!

He bit back his fears and reached out to Ilveriath, who continued his silent watch on the boy's mind. What's going on in there, Ilv? Can you see anything? He knew dragons couldn't hear every thought or dig their way into every crack and crevice, but some dragons were sensitive and some humans were loud.

Ilveriath concentrated for a long moment. He is confused. His memory is twisted and dim he explained.

I'shan took a moment to consider it. "...I-Ilv says you're confused," he explained awkwardly, refusing to make eye contact with the young man. "In guess I should maybe explain? Well, I don't want you to take any of it the wrong way....Not that I think you would! It's....ugh. Look."

He gave up on his mincing disclaimer and dove right in, describing the scene exactly as he'd heard. He hadn't actually been there. In fact, he'd made a great effort to hide from the Weyrleader when the rumor got out that his searchee was causing a riot in the healing hall. Ilveriath wasn't much help either, since his draconic mind had faltered a bit in the days since Ronarth first showed him the scene as he had seen through D'ren's eyes. Hearsay was all the pair had to go on; I'shan was horribly predisposed to exaggeration, but Ilveriath gently reminded him of that fact, and together the pair were able to recount the events with as much accuracy as possible.

"D'ren said he's going to try to find a mindhealer...and if he can't, there's Talian..." he said, frowning. "I started to go get him, but Talian is afraid of dragons and I'm pretty sure B'jin would murder me..." the bluerider concluded helplessly. "....Are you..hungry, by any chance?" At that, his tone brightened.

When I'shan mentioned that Ilveriath saw him to be confused, Sanderon lifted his head from his hands. Resting his forearms on his knees he turned his head to look at the bluerider and nodded. Tears were drying up, thankfully. The idea of I'shan explaining what happened was both nerve-wracking and a relief. He needed to know.

Considering his present location and state of mind, Sanderon knew it was probably not going to be a pleasant story. What he did not count on was what happened during the retelling.

When I'shan ended his account, Sanderon's head was back in his hands and he shook ever so slightly. His hands gripped his hair and head with fists. His jaw was clenched tightly. Every muscle was tense.

He remembered...everything.

With eyes wide and moving wildly, his mind revisited his bouts of rage, starting with the one just before his public lashing, then with Jada, then his near-rage with the kind flower lady, culminating with his attack against Lym and the bronze rider that came to subdue him. His rage had nearly destroyed everything. He could have killed them! If T'shiro had not come along, would he have killed? He remembered exactly what he had felt like then. And yes, he had been completely out of his mind. He could have taken a life. That was undeniable and it terrified him now beyond belief.

Sanderon's mind was a wild tempest of emotions. But each solid thought slammed down with finality. A solid mountain of reality was slowly settling into place. This was a horrible wake-up call for Sanderon, one that left him gasping now with horrendous understanding. Having let his rage rule while his anguish was shoved down deep had caused a lot of chaos and misery. And it could have caused a life, or maybe several.

"I am not a killer!" Sanderon cried. His words were back but his voice was so very weak. "I'shan...what have I become? Bring Talian...please."

He shook his head for the last question. He was hungry but there was no way he could eat now. He closed his eyes tightly and tried real hard not to wail. He would not cry when someone was watching. He couldn't.

The story wasn't easy to tell. I'shan frowned and looked away yet again, his own conflicted emotions threatening to well up to the surface once again. I never accused him of being a killer... the bluerider protested, trying his best not to think too much about the implications.

You did not Ilveriath replied, But I believe he feared that he had the capacity, the dragon explained. He snorted and flopped back in the grass. As passive and gentle as he seemed outwardly, Ilveriath harbored a lot of stress from moderating his own bonded's roller-coaster emotions. Adding a second charge was a steep command, but he accepted it without complaint. Ilveriath hoped, perhaps not without foundation, that getting to know this boy after avoiding him for so long would do something to help.

I'shan allowed the blue to soothe him for a moment before he stood. Unable to come up with a suitable reply to Sanderon's outburst, I'shan chose to evade. He sprang to his feet. 'I...I can send for him, if the Weyrleader will let him come. For now, you hold tight, okay?"

With that, he was off. He vanished into the hallway and down to the small kitchen at the end of the hall. The candidates housed there had to have something to eat, after all. While the island was rarely used these days, I'shan had taken it upon himself to bring some food over. He was hungry all the time, especially when he was bored, and he knew his charge would need something as well. The bluerider quickly started a fire and got a meal going while he discussed plans with  Ilveriath.

Do you think it's safe?
He is unstable, but longs for someone to talk to
Let's at least get him fed.... I'shan had no idea how much he sounded like his mother.
I will keep his company, if he will allow me
Good! Good, uh...you do that...

Ilveriath withdrew from his own bonded's mind and returned to Sanderon. I'shan is preparing a meal for you. From what I understand, you are not likely to be disappointed the dragon commented, just a hint of playfulness stirring in his voice as things started to relax. But fear not. All will be well. Ronarth has requested the young healer, and until he is brought, we shall watch over you.

The dragon paused thoughtfully. Many of us are capable of unthinkable acts in times of stress. But you should not linger on the past. Sometimes Ilveriath thought all humans would live better if they chose to live as dragons.

Ilveriath remained quiet after that, his presence resting on the boy's mind like a warm quilt. Eventually, I'shan did make his return, carrying with him an obnoxiously large bowl of soup. He awkwardly set it on the table beside Sanderon.

"Here! Um, do you need me to help you sit up?"

I'shan dear, you're pandering. Don't you think that's a tad insulting?

I'shan glared at the wall. "I'm trying really hard here! Cut me a break!" he snapped at it. He'd have looked like a madmad to anyone who didn't know there was a dragon outside.

Instead of answering Sanderon's questions, I'shan seemed to avoid them all together. And he seemed to be in a hurry to leave. He did agree to send for Talian though which was the only relief Sanderon could hope for. He nodded slightly when I'shan encouraged him to hold tight and then hurried out of the room.

When the door closed behind the man, Sanderon heard the unmistakeable sound of a lock being secured. He was to be locked in this room? Wasn't being back on the island good enough to keep him contained? Slowly he lay back down upon his pillow again and stared at the closed door. He did not blame them for keeping him locked up. He did not trust himself now either.

A few minutes past and Sanderon wondered where I'shan had gone. Was he alone now? Had they left him here? Soon after the distress of abandonment threatened to seep into his mind, Ilveriath's voice came into his head. It made him stiffen. He had hated the blue for a long time now. Sanderon frowned. He was too tired to hate anymore. He just didn't have it in him. Sighing heavily, he 'listened' to the blue's words.

I'shan was preparing him a meal? Really? Sanderon thought that was incredibly kind considering how he had so recently felt about the man. He did not know if he could eat anything though. His mind was in a turmoil and he felt too sick at heart for food. It was nice though that they had not left him on the island by himself.

Moving carefully he lay upon his back and turned his eyes to the ceiling. It was some consolation not to feel the slash marks so severely anymore. They were now only an aching reminder of what he had gone through. Not thinking on that for long, his mind kept going back to his bouts of rage. Putting a hand over his eyes, Sanderon lay there with deep hurt in his heart and fear in his gut. The things he could have done distressed him to no end. What had gotten into him? Would it happen again?

He wasn't alone with his thoughts for long before he felt the blue dragon in his head again. At first he wanted to reject it and push it away, but he didn't. His own mind scared him. He did not want to be alone with his troubled thoughts anymore.

Many of us are capable of unthinkable acts in times of stress. But you should not linger on the past.

Sanderon nodded slightly as a heavy foreboding settled upon him and he mumbled, "That is easier said than done."

The blue stayed silent after that but Sand could feel an added presence in himself that hadn't been there before. It felt comforting and maybe even a little safe. He knew it was the blue and he opened up his mind to Ilveriath come what may. He appreciated not being left to himself.

Not long after that, the sound of the door lock being fiddled with came to his ears and he turned his eyes away from the ceiling and rested them upon the door. He figured it would be I'shan...and he was right.

The smell of the food came to his nose making his gut tighten painfully. The sight of the delicious-looking soup, that I'shan placed on the small table-stand near his bed, made his mouth water. Perhaps he could eat something after all.

The idea of him needing help to accomplish the simple task of sitting up was irritating at first. He was extremely weak. He looked to I'shan and was surprisingly touched by the man's kindness in offering to help. Sanderon wasn't the type to accept help though, and so he worked at propping himself up against the wall at the head of his bed, with his knees up a bit for support. It wasn't easy, but he made it.

I'shan yelled at the wall where he figured Ilveriath might be a moment after and it actually made a slight grin turn up one corner of Sanderon's mouth. His eyes towards I'shan were now hesitantly thankful for his efforts and he nodded once to the man to show his thanks.

Seeing the amount of soup in the large bowl there, Sanderon looked to I'shan and said with a slightly stronger voice, "Have some too?"

After taking a few bites, he licked his lips as it settled warmly in his empty stomach. Each little bit filling him with a little more strength. "That is very good." He commented. Then after pausing in thought for a moment he couldn't help but look to the blue rider and ask, "I'shan...why are you being so nice to me? I thought you hated me. I shot your dragon." His brow creased into a frown with the memory. He took another few sips of the soup and waited for what I'shan might have to say. He wondered if perhaps the man might want to enact his revenge now for having been reminded. But at this particular moment, Sanderon would have welcomed it.

I'shan ran his fingers through his hair and huffed. "Sorry about that. Ilv is being a wher," he muttered as he slipped back into his previous position on the floor. His uncertain, wide-eyed expression gradually softened to a more relaxed one. He didn't mean the petty insult that he'd slung at his dragon. He often said things he didn't mean in the heat of the moment, but for now, he was just venting some steam.

His expression brightened at mention of the food. "Thanks. It's one of my mother's recipes. I cant make it like she did, though...we don't usually have the right ingredients down here," he said. He rested his elbow on the bedside and put his face in his palm. "I've found some pretty good substitutions, though." His gentle, casual tone suggested that he was either in danger of rambling or deep in daydreams or thought; possibly both.

He never could talk about recipes without talking about his mother. A wistful, sad look washed over him. "...I am glad you like it, though." He perked up when Sanderon offered to share. "...Really?" he said, unbelieving.

Sanderon;s next question mimicked his own. He couldn't imagine why Sanderon was even bothering to talk to him. He let out a weak little laugh. "Well, I'm not gonna lie...I was pissed about that," he said, almost teasing, though gently.

He was struggling to fend off the innate seriousness of the situation. I'shan hid behind humor and immaturity to eep unpleasant realities at bay. It was how he functioned. The question really was unavoidable, though. He hung his head in defeat.

"Look. When this searching thing started, the Weyrleader picked out his favorites from the search-sensitive dragons. I guess I probably could have declined, but that would be a good way to be on the bottom of the pecking order forever," he mumbled. "And I dunno...I've never really contributed to anything. Never been good at anything as far as THIS place goes...and I dunno. When the dragons came for me when I was a kid, it was the best thing ever. It was like a dream come true. So I guess I never thought about the bad side of it..."

He grunted in dismay. "I've been just...oh so sucessful, Sanderon." He once again averted his eyes, ashamed to look directly at the boy who he'd plucked away from his life. "Erisi hates me, and man...I have....not handled that gracefully." His tone was heavy with guilt. "Valerian doesn't seem to know I exist, which is fine I guess...but Farlint is the one that bothers me the most."

Poor Farlint. Nothing would ever erase that from his mind.

"Far loved it. He's awesome, really...but...well, he sort of turned out like a little brother to me. He always helped me wash Ilv and we'd go drinking in the evenings...but he got mauled at the hatching. The same one Erisi Impressed a green at." Another sigh. "Far got messed up pretty bad. Leg shattered, bone ripped clear out of his skin. They don't know if he'll ever be right, and..."

It's all my fault

He held his breath for a moment. "I don't search anymore."

Sanderon was shocked when a searing anger seeped into and around his muddled thoughts. The catalist? I'shan's mention of his mother. It was obvious that he cared deeply for the woman. He had learned in the turn and a half since his capture that the man's mother had died a long time ago during the time of the plague. Sanderon wanted to cuss but he refrained. Instead of wasting what little energy he had, he kept eating the soup and continued to listen.

When the subject of Erisi, Valerian and Farlint came up, his frown deepened and his eyes grew darker. The subjects of family and capture had been very taboo with him for a long time, and even though he had pretty much asked for it, hearing about both right now was not helping. Especially now that he was 'unstable'.

He let the man speak though and finished his portion of the soup. His shrunken stomach could not fit another bite. Laying his eating utensil down, he sat leaning up against the wall at the head of his bed and looked upon I'shan sitting there nearby.

The only good thing the man had said, as far as Sanderon was concerned, was that I'shan's Searching days were done. Too bad he and the others had to suffer from it though. Except for Farlint that is. He seemed to have liked it.

"Good." Sanderon's voice sounded stronger than before. There was an obvious touch of bitterness in that one word though. Digging a little where he thought it might hurt to make an important point, Sanderon kept the same tone and said, "It would be a terrible shame for you to tear another son away from his mother."

Letting that sink in a little he added with a tired frown, "...Thank you for the soup."

Well, that hadn't gone as planned. I'shan had to remind himself quickly not to get offended at the younger man's little dig. Sanderon's delivery seemed like the plot of an indignant child who'd been put into time out, which resonated poorly with I'shan, who had a relatively wide childish streak himself. The bluerider generally fled from responsibility, but lately he'd been learning in a multitude of ways that no matter how far and fast you ran, some things always had a way of catching up.

Ilveriath quietly urged his rider to be gentle. Part of I'shan wanted badly to snap at the child, but he put his trust in Ilveriath and kept his head level, though there was a brief flare of something in his eyes. It wasn't exactly anger, but frustration and hurt fit the bill. I'shan knew sharding well what he'd done wrong. He'd practically vomited with guilt over it just the other night. Wasn't all the pandering enough?

"Yep," I'shan said, his reply clipped short. He paused and tried to think of something else to say, but he didn't think there was much of anything to be said. He felt like a fool for telling his little story, for exposing so much of himself to someone who claimed to have forgiven him but who obviously still planned to hang on to their bitterness. I'shan didn't blame the boy. He'd not have blamed him for hating him forever. It was discouraging to hear such a relapse after he felt like he was getting somewhere, though.

Of course, I'shan's competitive side also nagged him, demanding that he not let Sanderon 'win' the exchange. He wanted to pout and snap, but thanks to a merging of Ilveriath's influence and his own past failures with Erisi, he denied his impulse and spoke in an amazingly even tone: "Look, I can't change what happened, okay? You said you'd let me help you, and I want to." He slowly stood up, taking the bowl with him. "But I'm not gonna let you beat me up at the same time."

He closed his eyes for a few long moments. "I really do hope you get to feeling better," he said before slowly making his way to the door. "I'll be around to check back on you soon, and Ilv is keeping watch...Take care."

He shut the door and locked it behind him. He wanted to be far away when he started swearing in frustration.

Sanderon's bitterness weighed heavily in his mind and churned his stomach. Hearing I'shan's response, Sand was actually surprised. He had expected anger in return, maybe even yelling in response. His goal for saying such a harsh thing to I'shan had been two-fold. He wanted to jab him where it hurt but he also wanted to ensure that the man knew just how much it had effected Sand. To be torn away from his family had been very harsh indeed. Did I'shan know what that was like? Perhaps so. If he didn't, maybe he would now. Maybe he would never be tempted to Search again.

Despite his bitterness, Sanderon was too tired to be angry. He was very much afraid to become enraged too. He did not like where it had taken him before. Part of him wanted to yell and scream and throw a fit as I'shan spoke his surprisingly kind words in return. Especially was that so when the man left the room and locked him in. Another part though sighed with deep regret. He was sorry he had hurt I'shan. He was very conflicted about a lot of things right now. Forgiveness had been given, but anger still remained. How did he deal with that?

Laying back after a long while of being alone, he stared up at the ceiling as twisted, conflicting thoughts muddled around with his brain. Before long, his eyes slowly blinked closed and he slept fitfully with troubled dreams.