World of Pern
[G] [C] [EVENT] 742.03.18 | A Spoonful of... - Printable Version

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742.03.18 | A Spoonful of... - M'ris - 20.Mar.21

There was a time when M'ris was a lousy father. In fact, could that time even be called being a father? He had been a black out drunk a good portion of the early years in Katila, preferring to drink and party away the pain and emptiness caused by the death of his mate while they were in exile together. Eventually he had cleaned himself up and tried his hand at being a sometimes-dad until they went North again. Since that move and especially since becoming a Weyrleader, M’ris found family to be important and he did his best to spend time with his kids as somehow their antics helped to keep him balanced.

It was even better when he was able to put time aside and get his oldest three together. They all had different mothers but got along exceptionally well and M’ris was proud of the way they looked after each other. Mardarian had turned eleven a few days earlier and while a small family dinner with Dimarna, Ameris, and little Eris was had, they were now able to get R’dal to visit and the four of them were settled in a corner of the dining cavern playing a game and laughing. For the special occasion, M’ris had asked a couple of kitchen workers to make up Mardarian’s favourite sweet treat and smoothies. He still wasn’t sure who the mastermind was that created that chilled drink but he knew it was a special treat in Ista and always appreciated. Even up in chilly Benden they were still treated as such given the ingredients needed. And that was why he had quietly asked for four to be made for the special day. Sometimes he pulled a little rank with his title but when it was for his kids, it didn’t seem quite so bad.

All three cheered when the drudge arrived with the drinks, making M’ris laugh. R’dal was twenty already but still he had an innocence to him that made him seem as young as Mardarian at times and now was no exception. He somehow managed to stop them all from diving into the drinks right away so he could be a sap and take a moment to toast their time. “To family. I love and cherish you all and I don’t think I’ve said it enough—thank you for giving me a chance at this whole dad thing. I don’t think I’ve screwed it up too much.” With laughter and assurance, the first sip was had and M’ris frowned as he pulled the glass away.

Did they use a different fruit than usual? Odd. He set the drink down to take his move in the game before having another sip to see if he was just imagining things. He licked his lips after and noticed that not only had it tasted a bit off, but his tongue and lips were feeling numb as well. Did someone use red fruit? His allergy was well-known in the kitchen to help avoid a fatal accident since he could have a strong and swift reaction.

But a look at R’dal and Dimarna had his concern growing as they both made faces and pointed out the odd taste after a couple of sips themselves. Mardarian, who had chugged back half of his drink with the enthusiasm of a hyper eleven year old, shrugged and figured it was a new recipe or something.

M’ris’ own heart was starting to race and he quickly got to his feet even as his kids all started to react in varying ways. “I need Healers, now! Something’s wrong… not… red fruit…” M’ris’ speech was slurring and his vision was blurring but he saw R’dal leaning over in an attempt to vomit while Dimarna clutched her stomach and Mardarian… Mardarian slumped forward onto the table, pupils dilated and drooling.

“No, no, no. Mar, it’s okay, I have you,” M’ris rubbed his youngest son’s back and screamed out for a healer again, barely noticing as others in the cavern scrambled around to get help before he was dropping to his knees and gasping before blackness took him.



M’ris was in and out of consciousness multiple time and each time he caught only a glimpse of a healer or Ameris, heard a few words that didn’t make sense, and passed out again.



When he finally woke, M’ris demanded water and explanations. He’d been bed ridden for two days but was recovering, though no one would say from what. R’dal and Dimarna were fine, both able to leave bed after a day of rest. His relief at the news was short-lived when the silence continued after asking after Mardarian. “Someone needs to say the words. Someone needs to tell me what happened to my son!” M’ris yelled, uncaring for the way he made everyone in the room flinch. He didn’t raise his voice often but this called for it.

You already know, M’ris, Mosiath spoke softly, a wave of compassion hitting M’ris through their bond. The original relief felt from his dragon had been comforting and he had embraced it but now, the comfort was shrivelling up as the truth sank in. “He’s dead?” He spoke aloud, despite it being clear they had all decided to let the dragon handle the tough conversation. …he is.

“But how? None of my kids have the allergy. What happened to my kids?!” He bellowed again even as he lowered his head and buried his face in his hands. Again, Mosiath held the answer and M’ris was grateful as it made it harder to lash out more than his few outbursts had tried to do. Poison. The drudge that brought you the drinks was later found dead by his own hand and an empty vial in his pocket. The healers believe he was targeting you but he couldn’t live with the guilt of what happened to Mardarian. It’s believed he thought it would only make everyone sick.

Emotions warred within M’ris.

Anger that the drudge was already dead. How could he exact his revenge now?

Pleasure at knowing the drudge was already dead and he died with a heavy heart.

Guilt that he was the reason his son was dead.

An unbearable pain in his chest made him gasp and he clutched over his heart as he gave a soft keening of his own before the tears fell.