[G] [C] 742.02.02 | Never Again

R’nya had a headache.

A pounding, unforgiving, what did he do to deserve this headache.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, R’nya waited for the last of three to arrive at his office. The two that had been fighting were not getting away without very serious repercussions, but the one that had been trying to prevent issues had unfortunately caused the biggest fuckup R’nya had yet had to deal with. Crushing an egg. He didn’t personally know if the dragonet within had been killed by the young man falling on it, or if it had been a dud that never would have made it to Hatching. It didn’t matter. A dragonet was dead. A gold was righteously furious. A goldrider was distraught. And none of that took into account the fact that he and Rhaedalyn had to deal with the fallout.

“Come in,” R’nya called when a knock sounded on his door, dropping his hand from the bridge of his nose and folding them together on the top of his desk. He watched as Fediletch entered, and nodded at the seat he wanted the young man to take. He was pleased, in a way, to see just how distraught the man clearly was about everything that had happened. R’nya had gathered some intel before the meeting, and knew from that that Fediletch wasn’t the type to cause trouble, and even had a reputation for stepping in and putting a stop to things that would have escalated. Generally not a bad trait. Unless it caused accidents.

R’nya took in a breath, and then let it out slowly before speaking. “Unlike your companions,” he started, mentioning them by name to make sure Fediletch understood clearly who he was speaking about, “I do not plan to recommend your banishment from Candidacy across all the Weyrs. I understand from the reports that what happened was an accident. However, I would like to hear your side of things.” R’nya leaned back in his chair, still focusing on his young companion, and waited patiently. He could feel his headache thumping in his temples.

A baby dragon had died, and it was his fault. A couple of people had tried to tell Fediletch that it was possible the baby had already been dead, that it was a dud, but he'd felt a surge of panic when he'd fallen, heard screaming, felt fear, and after one sickening wet crunch it had suddenly stopped. It was possible he'd been so scared and imagined the whole thing, that the angry gold had somehow affected his mind too. Fetch didn't know exactly how those things worked, but he couldn't help but feel in his gut that he was now the worst kind of murderer. He didn't even deserve to have his shoulder fixed and his arm in a sling as far as he was concerned, though Mylorah had already scolded him for saying so. He hadn't wanted to upset her so much. He hadn't meant to do a lot of things.

And now he was going to find out what was going to happen to him. Fetch trudged in through the door once he was summoned and said a quiet, "Thank you," before he took his seat, careful not to bump his arm. He at least didn't shrink in his chair, though it was hard to meet R'nya's gaze for long as he listened. The thought of being banished from all of the Weyrs made him feel even more sick to his stomach, but would it matter even if he wasn't? Would the other dragon eggs he touched know he'd done something so awful? Probably.

Fetch started to speak but his voice cracked and he winced, taking a breath before he tried again. "I.. I was going to touch an egg but a couple of other candidates started fighting. So I just," he paused to swallow the lump out of his throat before continuing, "I just grabbed one and picked him up like I would if one of my younger brothers was fighting... but the other one just came at me too and then I lost my balance and fell and..." Fetch couldn't stop his voice from choking as he angrily rubbed a tear from out of his eye. "Then I killed a baby. I didn't mean it, but I don't think I can do anything to make it better."

R'nya nodded, once, when Fediletch finished speaking, mulling over what he had said. It was the same as the report he’d gotten from Rhaedalyn and Aradissicath, and that pleased him. One of the boys who had been fighting had tried to pawn off more of the blame onto the others than R’nya had believed to be true. He let the silence draw out, allowing Fediletch to pull himself back together while R’nya considered his options. After a moment, he spoke.

“Malvayth has requested,” demanded really, but R’nya didn’t feel like elaborating on being bossed around by a gold dragon. “That you be barred from her Hatching. Both the upcoming, and any future ones, including viewing them.” It was fair enough, really, and R’nya didn’t have any issues with the demand. He was fairly sure the dragon would be absolutely impossible come Hatching without the young man that had murdered her daughter standing amongst the candidates – or even watching from nearby.

Leaning forward, R’nya waited until he caught Fediletch’s gaze, and held it for a few moments until the boy looked away. “As far as Standing at Fort goes, you will be barred from Candidacy until Malvayth’s daughter has her first clutch.” Which could be anything from two years, to five, depending on when she felt the urge to Fly. “While I will not recommend you be barred from the other Weyrs, you must understand that they may do so of their own discretion.” He paused for a moment, so that Fediletch could take in and understand all that he’d said so far. “You are not being kicked out of the Weyr,” he said gently. “But I will also have a rider available for you if you wish to transfer elsewhere.”

It stung to hear that the gold didn't want him around, but Fediletch couldn't blame her. Even if he hadn't been banned he wouldn't have been able to bring himself to Stand after what he'd done. He nodded in understanding, unsure of what else he could do really. He wouldn't fight back against any of the punishments, he didn't want to.

If anything he was surprised he wasn't banned for life from Standing at Fort. The fact that he wasn't even being kicked out now almost felt too nice. But it did mean he'd be able to hang around until after the hatching so he could see how Mylorah did. He tried to hold back more tears as he nodded. "Thank you for letting me stay for longer... I just want to see how some friends do... even if I can't watch maybe I can see them afterwards. I'll go back to Telgar after."

Fetch would find out if they were going to add to his punishment when he got back, but he was having a difficult time trying to think of anything positive. He couldn't even bring himself to hope that they'd let him Stand sooner. He should have been stronger, or braced himself better, or done anything at all differently to try to prevent what had happened, or to at least not have been the one who had killed the baby.

"I'm sorry," he said, though he knew it wouldn't change anything. "I'll try to stay out of trouble while I'm here." He was probably going to try to stay out of everything if he was honest. He just wanted to lie down on his cot and not move until after he found out if Mylorah or August impressed or not before he went back home.

R’nya resisted the urge to massage his temples when the young man thanked him for letting him stay longer. He liked to think he wasn’t a monster, though Rhaedalyn had made it well known she disproved of the extended banning from their Hatching Sands, since Aradissicath had no issues with the boy Standing for her eggs. That was all very well, but R’nya felt he had to set an example of some description and he had no idea how long to ban the kid for. He wasn’t at fault, so it shouldn’t be long but something terrible had happened, so it should. Hence the choice to let the unborn gold determine the length of time. Considering the number of golds that chose to fly before they even finished Weyrlinghood, R’nya didn’t think Fediletch would be off the Sands for too long.

An eyebrow raised when Fediletch said he would be going home to Telgar, and R’nya blinked. Did the young man know that was where Malvayth was going after her current clutch had Hatched? He decided to ask, just to make sure the boy wasn’t going to get a nasty surprise. “That is the Weyr Cazan and Malvayth are transferring to after the Hatching.” It wouldn’t matter if the pair lived in the same Weyr, they were big enough for Fediletch to avoid Malvayth until she forgot who he was specifically, but he seemed rather worked up over everything (understandably) that R’nya wanted to make sure he knew what was going on.

“I know,” R’nya said in response to the apology. It was easy to see the young man was very upset about everything and R’nya couldn’t say that he blamed him. He still remembered the time Indivara had knocked hard on the unhatched gold egg, expecting to prompt the baby out faster, only to have the fragile shell break and the gold dud gloop all over her feet. That had been an experience. “Everything will work out,” R’nya assured Fediletch, his expression soft. Having a hoard of little girls had made him much more aware of how to act around upset youth. “You may go, unless you have any further questions?”

Oh no. Fetch's heart sank and his stomach churned uneasily at the thought of the very angry gold following him home. He'd just have to try to stay out of their way as best as he was able to. Unless he wanted to transfer elsewhere. Probably not to Fort, since he was already in enough trouble here. He knew Telgar, it was home and he didn't want to leave it just because he could be uncomfortable. He would probably be just as uncomfortable anywhere else. He swallowed and nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you for telling me... I guess I'll just... try to stay out of their way."

Fediletch ran his fingers through his hair as he thought about how awful and uncomfortable he still felt, and how it was likely to only get worse. He nodded in response to the Weyrleader's reassurance, though he wasn't sure if he could really believe it would work out. He didn't want to give up on the dragons, but he wouldn't blame them if they gave up on him. "I... I'll just go. I don't have any question. Thank you."

He got up and trudged back out of the Weyrleader's office, head hanging low as he made his way back to the candidate barracks and his cot. He felt sick and lost and powerless, though he supposed he had a little bit of hope that he might be able to still Stand back home or at some other Weyrs. If he ever wanted to Stand again. For now he considered wisdom that his mother had once given him and decided he was just going to sleep on it and hope he felt a little better when he woke up.