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+--- Thread: [G] [C] [EVENT] 742.03.30 | Drunken Theories (/showthread.php?tid=4988)
742.03.30 | Drunken Theories - M'ris - 30.Mar.21
M'ris took another swig directly from the bottle of wine. How many years sober had he tossed away all because he couldn't handle the pain? The numbness brought on with each sip was nice. But it wasn't complete yet. He could still feel, he could still remember.
He'd come so close to losing Ameris.
He'd already lost his son a week earlier with two more of his children only ending up sick.
Rislan survived, which was also some comfort. The boy wasn't his but M'ris had always seen him as such since growing close to Ameris years earlier. Rislan was as much his as little Eris actually was. Rislan had also been close with Marnie being the same age and often brought together with their blended family.
But that couldn't be the end of his torment. Of course not.
Ameris had been pregnant. Had been. The poison had ended that as well. He hadn't even known before being told of the loss. They couldn't even share in that joy together but now they would mourn together.
But he still had four children in his life. He still had Ameris--his mate. Fuck! He'd almost lost a second mate! Was it so wrong for him to be happy and to love someone? For a while, it seemed clear he was being targeted. The poisoned smoothies were for him and his kids and then days later his mate--with the possibility of both of her children as well--fell ill from chocolates that had been tampered with. And he had been powerless to do anything. He had failed in keeping his family safe.
How could he keep the entire Weyr safe? All of those people that looked to him to keep them cared for with provisions and safety?
Clearly he couldn't.
Five people had been poisoned by what seemed to be muffins. Only two had lived beyond the first night. A part of him couldn't bring himself to care that A'mad had been one of the ones that died. The bastard had been hard on Ameris and her brother and M'ris knew he had wished pain or death on the man more than once in recent years. But A'mad was still attached to a dragon and losing a dragon always hurt.
Another, longer chug of wine was taken before M'ris thumped the bottle down hard on his desk. He hadn't pointed it out to anyone yet given the thought came to him the night before after a bottle of wine but in his mind, it seemed like the drudge that had been responsible for the smoothies was just another victim. Whoever the real culprit was had tied up a loose end with ease and M'ris would have gone on believing that man responsible but there were too many events now that made it seem like he had been a target by someone, or possibly a group, and that they were also targeting goldriders and bronzeriders in general thanks to some info-gathering.
Maybe he thought better when drunk.
He finished off the last of the wine with a smile, finding himself clever despite hearing his conscience--which sounded an awful like R'dal and didn't that just make too much sense as well--pointing out that he was just looking for reasons to keep drinking and making it okay to dull the pain of loss.
M'ris sighed and rested his head on his desk that was covered in the usual stacks of paperwork in his own filing system based on their usefulness and urgency. He lost his Second in the muffin attack. L'varl was a good man and had been his Second from almost the start when they moved to Ista. He had been the first to report feeling sick and M'ris had jumped to the conclusion it was another targeted attack on him but then more cases came in and opened up his theory.
But now he was in need of a Second. Or he had been. Thanks to Ista's idea of doing an apprenticeship program, he had some bronzeriders already learning the job. He laughed to himself, cheek still pressed against the wood at the memory of the meeting he had earlier that day. He was going to randomly pick a name but Mosiath guided his decision to the bronzerider that was mated to the Junior Weyrwoman. It seemed logical but he'd already been a few drinks in by that point and may have laughed at N'mor's moment of shock at his sudden promotion. Then again, it may have been the way it was presented—also thanks to the alcohol making him a bit loopy.
“So based on your hard work and glowing reviews of your peers, you’re the new Weyrleader!” M’ris grinned and then burst out laughing as only a man broken could do when he saw N’mor’s face. “Just kidding, I’m still stuck with the damned rank but congrats, you are my new Second and your first task is to go to the other Weyrs and get information on everyone that’s been poisoned or died in the last few weeks.”
So what if the kid was barely twenty? He'd been a rider for eight years and had been working hard in the few months since the program started--or so Mosiath insisted but it did sound familiar. He had brought the requested information in a timely manner as well so N’mor was already proving to be a good pick.
Maybe he should step down. Give the power to the young kids. Maybe they would have better luck at keeping their people alive.
Maybe he should finally go home instead of drinking alone in his barely lit office. He was out of wine anyway so now he was left with his thoughts as he waited for the pain to return. The guilt of not being a good mate was what finally had M’ris pushing his chair back and starting the short walk home. Ameris had been through as much as he had and she deserved comfort and support—even if it came from a man that couldn’t protect anyone and found his own comfort in a bottle once more.