World of Pern
Latest Updates

2023/08/04 Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
2023/01/07 Welcome to the New Year! We are now ELEVEN years old! Thank you, all of you, for your love and writing! I am looking forward to spending another year with youall! In addition, a new Default colour scheme is in progress and will hopefully be available soon! All my love! ThistleProse
2022/07/29 Gold Malvayth and Bronze Xyxyth clutch is Hatching! Come and join the shenannigans 743.08.03 | NIGHT STALKERS HATCHING and bring the popcorn!
2022/05/11 Gold Malvayth has Flown, caught by Bronze Xyxyth of A'tay. Their Hatching will be PC, and take place in Telgar in August around the 20-22nd! Update your Candidate Applications and prepare for some fun!
2022/04/21 New default layout! I hope you enjoy it! If you find any bugs, please report them in the discord #bug-squishing channel!
05/JUL It’s Hatching time!! Come take part in the shenanigans here
30/JUN Gold Thallyath of Ista Weyr has laid a clutch! More information here
27/JUN A bluerider, and then a greenrider, are found dead. More information here
25/JUN The Touching is up! Take part here
30/MAY After the Touching, many Candidates found themselves preyed upon in the form of their food. More information here
18/MAY Another goldrider - Ameris of Benden - is attacked. More information here
05/MAY Multiple individuals are attacked whilest out of the Weyr! More information here
04/MAY Take a chance OOC and guess who you think the murderer is! You can win prizes! More information here
03/MAY Goldrider Cazan and her twin brother Cazelarias are attacked. More information here
24/APR Goldrider Ashara of Fort is murdered by two brownriders. More information here
12/APR Searchrider B’jin was attacked at Telgar Weyr, surffering a slash to his throat. While in Benden, bluerider B’dor is found dead in his weyr. More info here
05/APRMore attacks occurred today. More information here
03/APRMultiple individuals found their death this day; more information here and here
28/MAR Tragedy has struck again! Across all the Weyrs, multiple people - primarily dragonriders - have fallen ill after eating muffins. There have been multiple deaths, and others are in criticle condition. More information here
24/MAR Weyrwoman Ameris and her son, Rislan, poisoned! More information here
18/MAR Benden’s Weyrleader M’ris and his children have been poisoned! Resulting in sickness and death. More information here
18/MAROn 18.03.742 Bronzerider A’dris of Vyaniorth was found dead in his personal bathing pool. He appears to have drowned after drinking an excess of alcohol. Afterwards it was realized that Machiya of Gold Cameth from Telgar Weyr had disappeared. Having never arrived at her destination, it is suspected she had an accident between.
11/MAR Gold Racoth of Donmaline went between taking Bronze Beruth of T’rel with her shortly after she had been caught, due to T’rel strangling Donmaline. He did not survive. more info
25/FEB Congratulations and thank-you to Guest for taking on a moderator role! <3
14/FEB Stars Above PC Hatching Link
06/JAN :o new layout is a WiP. Please report bugs in Discord.
01/JAN Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!




Currently: Spring 03.745 al
Monthly Event
2024-February
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Welcome to the Month of Lovetm! This month's Monthly Event is all about Romance, whether it is asking someone out on a date, or getting sweaty between the sheets! Anything and everything counts, if it even looks sideways like it could be related to Valentine Day -- including lover's spats, or breaking up, Flights Wins (or Flight Losses!). Honestly, this month has a huge opportunity for interpertation, so go wild!



2023-December
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Ahh, the fresh snow, the crisp air, the naked trees... welcome to Winter! Or, just the Colder Months for those in the more Northern Weyrs, while Ista is just... not as hot. But it is time to enjoy the end of the Turn, so folks should get together, spend some time gossiping, and drinking Hot Chocolate (alcohol and marshmallows opional)... does Pern even have marshmallows????? (they do now!)



2023-November
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Feel like bitching? Wanna take part in a brawl? Or bet on someone? Take part in Brawls and Bitching this month! Boo-yeah!



2023-October
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Thistle flunked this month; You can still post until the end of November as a result <3
Experience, tell or hide from a Spooky Story!



2023-September
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The flu is running rampant, colds are clogging noses, and someone might have lost a limb?



2023-August
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Partake this month by going fishing... or anything that occurs while fishing, or dealing with fish!



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'Just Let Me Rest' [D'ren,Talian]

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#1
Each step. Each breath. Even the smallest of muscle twitches, left Sanderon in pure anguish. His heart pounded, his bloody wrists and back throbbed, and yet he was being made to move. Couldn't they just leave him be? He could sink to the ground right here, curl up and just exist. But no. With his arm over D'ren's supportive shoulders, he was made to move. The weyrleader would not let him rest here, he was sure of it. To the Healing Hall they had to go.

"Please." He gasped under his breathe. His head still lowered, his tear-filled eyes shut tight, his body sweated...Sanderon kept taking one step after another...somehow.

"Please, just...let me rest." His voice did not sound like it was begging. It did not sound like it was angry either. His words were just there. Void of emotion. Had they broken his spirit? Had they finally tamed the 'beast'? Had a part of Sanderon died at the lashing? It was hard to say what was going on in his mind, he didn't even know at this point. What was clear, was his current state of pain. He just wanted it to end. He didn't care how.

What had gone on in the public square would never be forgotten. Sanderon would always remember the torture N'gelt cruelly gave. He would also remember one other thing as well. Something that he was having a hard time understanding or believing. D'ren had stepped in and 'saved' him when he had no longer been able to go on. What he thought about D'ren at this point was all a jumble. He wasn't really thinking about anything at this point. He just wanted to stop moving.

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Written By: ZZZ Archived
#2
"Shhh. Hold still, son. You're going to be just fine."

D'ren spoke softly, his voice steady in spite of the residual rage that still lingered in his heart and mind. He was furious over the entire spectacle, and perhaps most of all Tsuen's apparent refusal to do anything to deal with the situation before it got out of hand. How could she just stand there and watch the Weyr work itself towards a riot? How could she not do something?

On days like this, D'ren felt like he was the only one willing to do anything. Everyone else just watched like brain-dead wherries, awaiting whatever move he would make so they could pick it apart. Jada had learned that unfortunate lesson today, and he was sure it wasn't any easier for her in spite of his efforts to prepare her. There were no right choices. There were never, ever any right choices. Someone was always waiting to tear apart whatever decision was made, to point out every last flaw...

D'ren was doomed to kill himself trying to please everyone. He knew it, Ronarth knew it...Everyone should have known it by now.

The embattled bronzerider tried to steady his own breath as he led Sanderon into the infirmary. "Come along and we'll get you a healer," he said in reply to the young man's weak requests. D'ren couldn't even bring himself to look at the boy. The dejection and brokenness in his voice was heartbreaking.

This wasn't worth it. Only the impending extinction of dragons could justify such a barbaric practice as stealing, and yet still D'ren could feel blood on his hands.

Soon, he'd made his way to one of the unoccupied rooms. He whispered for an attendant to go fetch Talian. The boy had saved Jada's life with his skills and had patched B'jin up nicely after that first horrible show. D'ren helped  Sanderon onto the bed and huffed once, more from relief than anything else.

The bronzerider pulled a chair up and wiped some sweat from his forehead. He was covered in it. "Are you all right?" he inquired, expecting only anger from the young man. He expected it, and honestly thought he deserved it. Even so, he hoped the boy would keep his wits about him and mind his manners. The situation was still far from under control, and as horrified as D'ren was over the situation, he couldn't let mercy become a weakness.

He sighed. "I'm sorry, kid." He spoke with deep sincerity, and yet firmness at the same time. If only he could make the kid understand.

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#3
The walk to the infirmary, though not terribly far, had nearly taken Sanderon's last spark of strength. With his eyes still shut tight he felt, more than saw, the shadow of the Healing Hall come over them as D'ren led him inside. The weyrleader's encouragement fell on unthankful ears. He did not care to be encouraged right now. He just wanted to fall unconscious upon the nearest bed. Did the man truly believe that Sanderon would be fine? He hadn't been 'fine' since the day he was captured in the woods. And at this rate, he would never be 'fine' again. Now was not the time to dwell on such things. Even if he wanted to think on it, his mind was shattered and wandered in crazy directions. It did not seem to want to settle down and think clearly on anything. It never stopped fully on a single thought before racing off in another direction towards nothing except...

Pain.

That was the only thing that was real. Voices did not matter. Though he heard one now. It was D'ren again. When had Sanderon stopped moving? That was odd. He was on a bed now. That was nice...or at least it should be he thought briefly. There was no difference though. Nothing had really changed. At least he didn't have to move anymore.

On his belly now, with his bloody wrists by either side of his head and his shredded back soaked in blood messing up the blankets underneath him, he listened to what D'ren had to say. Opening his eyes briefly to look upon the man sitting in a chair beside him, he suddenly realized that some sort of response was being asked for. Hoping it was the right one, Sanderon tried to remember what D'ren had asked and then mumbled in the same void tone as before, "Am I alright? ...No. How could I be?"

How could he be alright? D'ren's question made no sense. Didn't the man not see his torn and bleeding flesh? What was wrong with him.

When he heard D'ren apologize with 'I'm Sorry Kid.' A spark of anger flashed briefly through Sanderon's eyes before disappearing behind the fog of misery again. Meeting the weyrleader's gaze, he said without feeling, "Don't say you're sorry. Just... don't."

The apology was heartfelt, Sanderon was sure but it rekindled a spark of his old defiance when he heard it. I'shan had repeatedly said that he was sorry too, right before Sanderon was torn away from his family, probably leaving them thinking he was dead.

"Actions. ...Not words." Was what Sanderon mumbled now, as he closed his eyes once again. He willed his mind to let go so he could feel the sweet peace of the unconscious, but still his mind refused to release him. His tortured flesh still throbbed terribly with each beat of his heart.

Where was the healer?







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Actions...not words

D'ren smiled softly. It was a sad smile, but not a misplaced one. He understood that phrase far better than Sanderon could know. But Sanderon was young and idealistic, with an entire life ahead of him to learn the hard lessons that D'ren had already learned turns ago. D'ren just regretted that he had to learn them in so harsh a way.

"I've called for the best healer we have," D'ren commented. He nodded to an attendant as she handed him a glass of water. He knew it was intended for him, but he set it down beside Sanderon anyhow. "Go ahead, have a drink. You look like you need it," he said.

He wanted badly to explain himself to the boy.  He wanted to tell him how hard it was to make these decisions, and how they haunted him at night. He wanted to explain to him that it was for the greater good, for security and the future. He wanted to point out how hard he tried to make the northerners feel at home, but it was impossible when faced with constant protest. But what could he really say that he hadn't already said? That an angry young man would actually want to hear?

Nothing. So rather than talking himself blue only to have his words thrown back at him, he chose to sit supportively by the young man's side while they waited for the healer to arrive. Nothing would make it 'right' right now, but he could at least keep the young man company until the healer arrived, to show him that he wasn't completely abandoned or unwanted.

How could D'ren ever make them understand? He knew he asked a lot of them, and he knew he put them in unwanted situations. How could he make them understand that it was a necessary evil, something intended to save the world?

Outside, Ronarth poked his nose at the window. His hot breath fogged it up. Little human? I'm sorry you hurt the dragon commented. He creeled a bit, earning him a soft but firm stare from his rider. Settle down, dear

But you hurt, too... the dragon complained, his voice free for Sanderon to overhear as well. The human world so perplexed the simple bronze. Why couldn't they just be happy?

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#5
With his blood seeping out of his wounds and slipping over torn flesh to drip down onto the blanket below, Sand tried to count his heartbeats and then the soft footsteps he heard coming closer to pass the time until the healer arrived. He wondered briefly who it would be.

Opening his eyes without moving anything else he hoped he would see the healer. Instead it was an attendant that had handed D'ren a glass of water. The fact that it was meant for the man and not him was irritating. Wasn't he, Sanderon, the one that was hurt? The weyrleader was just being pampered. What a...

His thoughts grew silent with confused suspicion. D'ren was giving the water to him? ....Really? What was he suppose to think about the man now? It was so much easier to hate him. But all of this 'thoughtfulness'? It was just plain confusing. He did not entirely trust it. Maybe it was tainted somehow with drugs of some kind. He desperately wanted the water though. His mouth was very dry and his throat parched. But there was only one problem. He did not want to move in order to get it.

Gritting his teeth after an internal battle where his mind called his body a whiny baby, he moved very carefully and very slowly to where he rested upon one elbow. The fire that burned at his every movement was extreme. He felt his head spin and the sweat reappear upon his brow but he did not want to pass out at this point. Let the water touch his throat first.

Managing to touch the glass, he worked it into his grip and tried to lift it so he could bring it to his mouth. A soft moan escaped and he quickly set the glass back onto the table before it had been raised half an inch. Clenching his jaw in determination, he narrowed his eyes against the offending glass and tried again. This time, he expected what the additional weight, although small, brought to his tortured back muscles. Pulling the glass toward his lips, he could see the water inside the glass visibly tremble as his hand shook with the effort.

Feeling the refreshing water cool his mouth and slide down his throat, he drank heavily and nearly emptied the glass right then and there. With a little left, he had taken his fill and reversed his efforts to return the glass to where he had gotten it from. Thankfully it wasn't nearly as heavy this time.

Letting go of the glass, he kept his hand raised and took a look at his wrist for the first time. It did not look pretty at all and it still bled though not quite as freely as before. With his iron-willed determination to stay upright fading quickly, he fell back onto the bunk, this time he was partially on his side facing D'ren with his back facing away. Having moved was not an enjoyable experience and he regretted having done so as he lay there and just tried to breathe.

When the peak of his agony was fading a bit, he looked upon D'ren and noticed his sweated, tiredness. He looked positively dreadful. Huh? Was that a hint of concern for the monster sitting beside him? No way!

Looking down at his own blood upon the sides of his chest where it had run and dripped off and the blanket, he frowned with concern. Was his back as bad off as it felt? Would he heal okay? He knew he would scar so when that question came into his brain, he dismissed it as irrelevant. At least he had concrete thoughts at this point. His pain was no less than before, maybe even greater with the swelling and the wait, but his mind was not as scattered and disconnected as before.

Perhaps that is why he knew he wasn't imagining things when he heard a dragon's voice in his head. At the same time as a bronze one began to fog up the window there nearby. The beast was sorry that he hurt? Really? He had no reason to be angry with this dragon and so he swallowed a bit of pride and thought back an answer he did not know if the dragon could hear. 'Thanks.'

The second time the dragon spoke in his mind he had the distinct impression that he was not being spoken too directly this time, but rather was being allowed to listen in. D'ren rode a bronze. This one was probably his. So... D'ren felt hurt too?

Looking upon the man in a new light, he really considered him carefully for the first time. His tiredness. His hint of anger. The nearly hidden agony in D'ren's eyes. It was all there. Sand was confused. He wanted to hate the man sitting beside him. His gut wanted to roll with rage but it didn't. Maybe he was just too tired. Or maybe... Just maybe, Sand began to see D'ren as a man instead of a monster.

Opening his mouth he spoke to D'ren. His words this time were not void of emotion. This time there was a mixture of pain, confusion and yes, thankfulness.

"Thank you ...Sir."

He could always hate him again when he felt better, he surmised. But right now, he just didn't have it in him.

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#6
D'ren watched silently as Sanderon tried to lift the glass. The bronzerider's immediate instinct was to help the boy, but he realized quickly that Sanderon was young and prideful. After such a humiliating incident, he probably wouldn't want help with a task so simple as drinking water from a glass, no matter how hard it was under current circumstances. D'ren waited for the boy to successfully take a long drink before offering his hand to take the glass and set it down on the table, carefully positioning it within easy reach.

Sir. He smiled a little bit, but didn't comment.

There was a soft thump on the window. "Ronarth is worried about you," D'ren explained with the lightest hint of amusement, unaware that Ronarth had already spoken to the young man. "He's trying his best to get a good look through the window." Silly beast. As soon as D'ren thought about hoe easy it would be for Ronarth to simply look through his eyes, the dragon realized it as well. The bronze's enthusiasm was briefly dampened by embarrassment. How did he always fail to think of such simple solutions to problems?

You're not stupid D'ren offered. You're just excited. Sometimes it's hard to think when you're too excited.

It's never a problem for you...

It's different, Ronarth

The dragon didn't see how, but he accepted it. You are welcome he added with a little bit of delay, turning his attention back to Sanderon. I...don't really understand what just happened the dragon confessed. It was strange.  Last night, D'ren was thinking about you and was upset. Then N'gelt and Tsuen said things, but I don't really remember what, and D'ren won't think about them so I can't see, and...

Ronarth, please don't break the glass

Sorry!

After the pause to reply to his rider and a moment of uncertainty, Ronarth's presence washed over  Sanderon again. I don't understand much of it. I just know that he wants everyone to stop fighting so we can go home. . The dragon paused thoughtfully. I don't remember 'home'. I just know that D'ren wants to go awfully bad.

There were a lot of questions left unanswered for the dragon, so he chose simply to trust his rider.

D'ren didn't know Ronarth was speaking to Sanderon, but he suspected it. Ronarth talked to people all the time, and this wouldn't be the first upset candidate the dragon tried to console, or the most dramatic. Erisi held that title, at least for now.

"The healer I have coming is the best we have," D'ren said a moment later, voice low and as soothing as he could manage. His nerves were shot. While he was doing a good job hiding it from casual observation, someone who was looking for it would be able to tell without effort. "He's an honorary master, in fact." Not that he doubted that Sanderon had at least heard of Talian, for no reason other than the boy's own unique brand of escape attempt. Tal's suicide attempt was old news now, but at the time it had been quite the gossip piece among the northerners.

It still made D'ren sick at his stomach to think that searching had made these kids so miserable that they'd rather die.

His head snapped to the door suddenly. He could hear footsteps, and a familiar gait at that. ''Sounds like he's almost here. Will you be all right for now, son?"

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#7
A soft thump on the window, brought Sanderon's attention away from D'ren and back onto the bronze. Again, he tried to move nothing but his eyes. As his mind wondered why the healer was taking so long, he heard D'ren say that his bronze was worried about him. Sand was about to open his mouth and say 'I know', but he didn't. He didn't owe this man anything. Why should he care if D'ren knew his bronze had bespoken him already?

When the bronze did speak with him again, Sanderon actually welcomed it. He liked to feel as if he wasn't so alone in his own mind. He tried to hide his deeper thoughts though. It would not be good for the weyrleader or anyone here to know how he truly felt about things. All they knew now was that he was trying to escape back north to his family. Let them keep thinking that. In fact....now that he had been lashed perhaps he could 'pretend' that he wouldn't try to 'escape' anymore. That way, when he did make his exit and lived off the land here on his own, they might not know that instead of going north, he would be headed in another direction entirely.

Catching himself thinking these very things as he listened to Ronarth, he quickly slammed those thoughts down deep and covered them over with layers upon layers of built up defenses. Keeping a passive mind now, he concentrated on what Ronarth had to say. It caused Sanderon to frown slightly and glance to D'ren from time to time. He wanted to ask questions about what he was hearing but wondered if he should. Maybe he was better off not knowing. The last thing he wanted to do right now was like this man. That was not going to happen. The less he knew about him the better.

But Sand also couldn't ignore what his eyes were seeing for themselves. Sand was a hunter. That being the case, he had years of training how to be observant and watchful. His observance now, as he looked upon the weyrleader, clearly picked up how shot the man's nerves really were. Added to that was Ronarth's admission that D'ren wanted to go home. Also that D'ren hoped the fighting would stop so they could.

So if we stopped rebelling against our bonds, we would go home? He questioned Ronarth skeptically and then added. If we could go home or at least have the freedom to wander as we wished, I would not have to fight. I just want to be left alone if I can't go home.

Sanderon had not meant to think what he did and hoped suddenly that Ronarth would not relay that to his rider. He was already in enough trouble. He didn't need this added worry of being watched 24/7 on top of it, though he had a very good idea that he already was. How else could they pick him up when he tried to 'escape'.

Can you really read my thoughts and intentions? He asked Ronarth. The answer would be very useful. It never occurred to him until this very moment that he had been tracked by his thoughts alone. That would at least give him back some of his confidence in his ability to disappear from sight and sound.

Hearing D'ren speak up then and tell him about the Healer being the best, and an Honorary Master at that, Sanderon wondered if he should really care. Then he thought that perhaps he should and was hoping that this Honorary Master Healer was also someone who could walk quickly. Because the pain Sand still felt seemed to be increasing in intensity. Perhaps the bruising the slashes caused was also beginning to set in. The swelling of his flesh did not help matters either.

When the footsteps were heard by Sand and then confirmed by D'ren, a part of his mind was relieved. The other part was silently screaming for the person to run.

Honorary Master Healer? Talian. Sanderon finally made the connection. And he was relieved.


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#8
If everyone worked together, I think we'd be home in no time Ronarth said easily. He spoke with optimism, the sort of shining optimism that kept D'ren going on a daily basis. Ronarth was also so sure that things would be all right. D'ren was always so sure they wouldn't be. D'ren's rationalism was a burden on his mind and conscience, but Ronarth knew how to perk him right up.

Even then, D'ren could feel a wave of warmth and gentleness flowing from the dragon. The bronze projected it to Sanderon as well. Both humans were in such pain...such different pain, and yet so similar. Ronarth didn't understand why, but he did know that sometimes his feelings made D'ren feel better. Maybe it would make them both feel better now.

The dragon crooned and pressed his nose against the class again. I can sort of read your thoughts the dragon commented unhelpfully, though the naivety in his voice revealed that it wasn't his intention to be unhelpful. In fact, he thought he was being quite helpful by answering the question!

He pressed forward again. Then, there was the sharp sound of splitting glass.

Kssshhht!

D'ren's head snapped to the window and his jaw slacked. Ronarth's flat nose was visible, protruding through the window perfectly. There were a few streaks of green ichor on his snout. D'ren... Ronarth complained for all to hear. I cut myself.

D'ren frowned. He ran urgently around Sand's bed and reached up to stroke the bronze's snout. "You wherry..." D'ren purred reassuringly, though he was obviously alarmed by the incident. I told you not to break the glass! he exclaimed with worry.

I'm sorry!

D'ren hugged his snout. He didn't notice that a thin, brown-haired man with mistrusting eyes was standing in the doorway to the room. Ronarth did, though.

Look! Talian! The excitable bronze crooned a greeting, which the young healer visibly cringed from.

D'ren bit his lip, then gently guided Ronarth's big snout backwards, out of the window. "I'll be right out, love," he whispered to the dragon before looking to Sand.

"I'm leaving you with the healer now, all right? I'll come back to check up on you," D'ren said. He smiled reassuringly at the boy, hoping to at least help soothe his injured nerves and pride. He imagined, however, that Sand would be thankful to be rid of him.

"You've very brave, kid. I would love to have you in my wing one day."

Then, he headed for the door.

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#9
If everyone worked together, we probably would. But that is not happening now and probably never will. Sanderon thought back to Ronarth with a flash of anger. He wasn't angry at Ronarth but the way everything here was run so terribly. Even the leadership was fragmented. How could there be unity with examples like that? Not to mention the cruelty and unjust conditions placed upon some. It was just plain stupid. How could they have peace if the ones who wanted it the most were denied the very thing everyone claimed to want and that was peace.

It was all a vicious circle that had to be broken. Somehow, by someone or something, things had to be knocked around a bit and resettled in a better way. And it had to happen soon. If not, Sanderon with his new insight of dragons maybe reading his thoughts in order to find him, would disappear for good. And this time, he wouldn't fail. He was better equipped with a very important piece of knowledge. If he hid his every thought, they could not find him. At least that is what he surmised from what little he had learned from the bronze. It would be something worth testing before he made such a bold move as going away. The last thing he wanted was more lashings.

Thanks again Ronarth. You've helped more than you know. Sanderon thought at the bronze right before the sound of breaking glass could be heard. It made him jerk reflexively and then groan through clenched teeth with the movement.

His groan stopped short as he hated for anyone to hear it and watched as D'ren went to his bronze.

Seeing D'ren's gentleness with his Bronze was actually surprising to Sanderon. He thought the weyrleader was a harsh man. But several things he had seen and heard, within the last half-candlemark would contradict his belief. This show of affection was the most convincing of all.

Be well. Sanderon thought to Ronarth when he saw the ichor on his nose.


Sanderon noticed the footsteps stopping nearby and so he turned his full attention there. The healer, Talian, was there in the doorway. Sanderon observed his appearance and tried to judge what the young man was thinking. Would he relieve his pain now? Sanderon sure hoped so. When D'ren noticed Talian standing there too and said his goodbyes, Sand was relieved. He didn't want to think about the weyrleader anymore. There were too many conflicting thoughts and emotions racing around in his brain. He just wanted him gone.

The man's last statement though before he left, made Sand's eyes widen and then quickly narrow. How in the world was he suppose to take that?! Be in the weyrleader's wing? Wasn't that suppose to be a privileged and trusted place? Oh how much he wanted to hate the man right now. Instead of answering favorably or negatively, he closed his eyes until the man was gone. He was angry, frustrated, confused and in a great deal of anguish.

Sanderon opened his eyes again when it was 'safe' to do so and acknowledge the healer with something resembling respectful acceptance in his eyes. He would allow this person to care for him. He felt that Talian would treat him with respect and not like a poor helpless infant or a piece of scum. If he even grinned at Sanderon's pain though, it did not matter how much anguish he was in, he would get up and crawl out of the Healing Hall. In fact he had half a mind to do that already, especially with the window broken now. The soft breeze that came aggravated his open wounds.


"Talian." Sanderon spoke the healers name. Then he offered his own though he wondered if Talian already knew it. "Sanderon."

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#10
Talian kept his distance from the Weyrleader. Tal and D'ren had spoken only a couple of times, and they were not pelasant events. The healer felt a little bit better after their more recent encounter; after a turn of feeling like a helpless prisoner, he'd been able to convince the Weyrleader to change something. It showed the old bronzerider did care, on some level. But in the end, it all blew up in Talian's face anyhow. What was the point of trying?

When the Weyrleader passed by, he gave Talian a pat on the shoulder. The healer flinched, twisting himself aside and recoiling against the door, eyes widening in some sort of horrified anticipation. D'ren froze, looking back at the healer with both hurt and understanding, before he turned and walked away.

Talian frowned. The bronzerider probably thought he understood. He never would, though.

After the exchange, the air in the room felt icy cold to Talian. He sighed and pushed a bit of his hair behind one ear before closing his eyes to compose himself. He had a patient, after all. Something to focus on. Someone who needed his help.

The healer turned on his heels and approached at a brisk pace. "Good day," he said, his voice smooth and soothing, touched with just a hint of sympathy. Talian knew this was not a good day, by any stretch. But he was a healer, and it was his job to start by not making things worse.

"Nice to meet you, Sanderon," he continued, calm and professional. His eyes were both soft and studious. "Can you do me a favor and sit up? I'll need to have a look at your back." He reached into his bag and produced a pair of lambskin gloves. He was going to need some new ones soon. He was running low.

While he waited on Sanderon to get into position, Talian went ahead and prepared a bowl of redwort solution. The supplies were kept onhand and an attendant had already brought a bowl of warm water. That sort of thing had been a rare thing when he first arrived. As time rolled by, Talian's insistence on certain procedures and policies seemed to be working out. He wasn't gutsy enough to take over the healing hall like he knew he could, but it was nice for his voice to be heard somewhere.

"This is a disinfectant," he explained as he returned, bowl in hand. "It'll help me clean your wounds more thoroughly. While I flush it out, I'll go ahead and have a look to see if stitches will be required. But first..."

He returned to the supply table and rummaged for a moment before returning with Fellis juice. "Here," he said softly. "Take this. It will help with the pain."

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#11
"Good day?" Sanderon frowned with a spark of anger. "Not very."

Sanderon had noticed the brief exchange of body language between D'ren and this healer and wondered about it. "Don't like him very much?" He asked. He really didn't care at this point whether or not Talian did, it was just a way to provide a little distraction as Sanderon worked on sitting up.

Holding onto the bunk with one hand he ever so slowly moved his legs over the side. With agony coursing through his bloody flesh, he pushed off the bed and came into a sitting position. His breath was slightly labored and pull of air that expanded his lungs hurt. Every twitch of the smallest muscle hurt. The softest touch of the breeze hurt him even more. Resting his bloody wrists on his knees, he bent down with eyes closed tight.

He felt like he was being tortured again and the worst hadn't even come yet. 'Cleaning the wounds?' 'Flushing them?' Fellis? Stitches?! What ever happened to just smearing it with numbweed and letting him alone?

Lifting his head, Sanderon took one look at the bowl of medicinal liquid and the Fellis mixture and knew he wasn't going to stick around.  His torture hadn't really ended after all. With his teeth grinding and his back burning, he pushed off the bed and stood. Glancing at the Fellis Juice again, he shook his head and then glanced quickly to the door. With D'ren gone now there was no need for him to stay and 'behave'.

"No thanks. I'll see myself out."

His iron-willed determination, brought Sanderon forward towards the door.

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#12
Talian held back a sigh. He dealt with difficult patients all the time, rude ones too. That didn't mean it was easy. As it turned out, a practiced hand was not always a willing one. Talian was gentle and timid, and considering his wild emotional range since his arrival at Katila, not the best suited for things like restraining unwilling patients.

He watched in silence as the young man before him struggled to sit up. Talian narrowed his eyes in near-disbelief. Was he really just going to get up and walk about without at least getting his wound cleaned? What a...what a dimglow! Talian's eyes widened as Sanderon, obviously amazingly stubborn, actually managed to walk all the way across the room.

Tal didn't want to stop him. Not physically. Tal had been knocked around and physically accosted enough as of late. But he couldn't, in all good faith, actually let the idiot wander away with his back torn to ribbons. He frowned. Well, he had taken an oath, had he not? The healer inhaled deeply and moved across the room at a brisk pace, reaching out with one slender hand to push the door shut before Sanderon could manage to amble his way out into the hallway.

"I can't force you to stay," Talian said, nervously placing himself between the other man and the door. "But before you go, I have to warn you. Your back has some serious lacerations. If you don't clean them out and have them closed, you risk infection, re-opening, and all sorts of complications."

He sighed and looked away. There had been a time when Talian couldn't talk to someone without looking them in the eyes, but ever since that greenrider held him and forced him to look...well...that habit was reversed, to say the least.

Besides, he saw in Sanderon the same burning anger he'd once felt himself. He would have still felt it, were he not so conscious of his own drift towards disillusioned evil. He'd let the anger go, but it was replaced only with sadness. Tal's anger had dried up, but it was something he could relate to.

Tal wrung his hands anxiously.

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#13
It took all the control he had not to scream and fall right onto the floor. One step, two steps. Each one was a marathon of torture. What had he been thinking?! He did not have it in him to leave. He knew it. Talian probably knew it. So why was he trying?

He did not want to be drugged. He wanted to be in complete control. Without that, there was fear. Fear spurned on his anger. Anger brought rage. Rage caused him to do things he normally never would, like fighting with those brown riders that had dragged him out to be lashed. He wasn't normally a violent person but he seemed to be getting himself into more and more situations where rage was the outcome. No wonder he was in such a state now.

If they would all just leave him alone...

Almost there. The door was withing reach. Only a few more steps and he would be through it. Just keep going.

The door closed quickly and he was faced with an impossible situation. The healer was standing between him and freedom and he couldn't do a single thing about it. Not one. He was about to collapse right where now stood, swaying slightly and shaking like a leaf. Sweat again glistened on his brow as his eyes clouded with the pain.

"I will not be drugged!" He tried to scream at Talian but his voice barely croaked out a pain-filled whisper. A sudden tip in the room made him loose his balance and he reached out and tried to hold onto either Talian's shoulder or the door behind him for support.

Sanderon's strength left him and if Talian did not interrupt his fall as his knees gave out, he would now be laying in agony upon the floor.

What the healer had said about infection made sense. Sanderon could not ignore such logic even if he had the strength to. Going against all he was inside, he reached out and asked for Talian's aid.

"Help." He mumbled.

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#14
Tal sighed heavily as he peeled himself from the door. "You can pass on the drugs if you like," he explained, voice frail and strained. "But it will be painful if you do." He wanted to further explain what effects the fellis would have and why it would be beneficial, but he quickly realized that it would probably just come out as boring dribble. This poor man obviously had other things on his mind.

Ugh, those lacerations. Talian had seen flesh torn in such a way several times now. The first and most horrible had been B'jin, his green searchrider and dearest friend. Talian knew it was counter-intuitive and strange for him to be so attached to the man who'd ruined his life, but in the months after, B'jin made a touchingly sincere effort to make it up to the boy. Tal's mixed feelings shifted when he realized that B'jin loved him more than anyone else ever had.

Seeing those lashes....it brought back ugly memories.

Talian frowned and started to speak again, but he stopped abruptly when he saw Sanderon falter. "Shards!" Tal gasped, leaping forward to catch the man before he could collapse in the floor. Talian was thin, but he was in better shape now than he had been upon arrival. The Weyr's slave labor ensured that. He found it much easier to support the weight of another person than he would have a mere turn before.

"Come on," Tal said softly.  He carefully hoisted Sand from his knees and started to carry him to the bed. The healer delicately set him down, then tried to coax him on to his stomach.

"Would you still prefer no fellis?" he asked softly, careful not to sound sarcastic. He wasn't, but for some reason people expected him to be these days. Why, he had no idea. Was it because of that bitter phase he'd gone through?

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#15
Sanderon tried. He really did, but his limit of endurance had been reached. With tight-lipped silence, he let Talian carry him back to the bed. Being weak and helpless did not bode well with him. He had to remain strong. Those that were weak were often crushed by the cruel. He wasn't strong at all right now and it was distressing. How could he deal with danger when it came?

Making it to the bed, Talian let him down upon it and Sanderon heeded the man's coaxing and lay upon his stomach. He did not have an ounce of strength left in him.

When asked if he wanted to do without the drugs, he managed to say, "Just do what you got to do. I want... I need to stay alert."

Sanderon knew it was not going to be pleasant but he refused to put himself under the control of another. There was no one here he trusted enough to do that with yet. Once the painful procedure started though, he might feel differently. But for now he wouldn't even consider drugs as an option.

With his bloody wrists on either side of his head again, and his blood from them and his back soaking into the blankets, he waited for Talian to either speak or begin working. He hoped the man was the gentle sort...and quick too.

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#16
Talian understood the wariness. He'd been awfully protective of his personal space since his arrival, but especially lately. He shook his head as he slipped on a pair of lambskin gloves. The redwort solution had already been prepared for him, so that was one less step to worry about.

"All right," Talian said smoothly as he began his work, gently wringing out a rag soaked in the solution before placing one hand firmly on Sanderon's untorn skin. He braced that hand against the young man and started to delicately wipe the wounds clean. It would be painful. They weren't horribly deep, but they were jagged and uneven, and Sanderon's insistent rolling around had stretched them out. There was also a little bit of debris lodged one one of them, probably from when he initially sank to the ground outside.

Tal focused, working quickly to cleanse and flush with as little pain as possible. He also made small talk; it wasn't that Talian liked small talk himself or expected his rude patient to, but it would distract the other man from the pain. That was the purpose. Unfortunately, there was little at Katila that made for suitable small talk without being sensitive material, so Tal opted for something academic that he could ramble about.

"I'm sorry it took me a moment to arrive.  I was in the back storage rooms, so the attendant had a difficult time finding me. I've made great progress re-organizing and cataloging the infirmary's herb selections. I've got things for any ailment you can imagine; heart murmurs, migraines, blood pressure, acid reflux..." As he talked, his fingers moved like lightning. The wounds were clean within a few minutes, leaving only one task remaining.

"Most of these are just minor lacerations. Several of the blows only left stripes, no actual tearing...but this one in the middle is going to have to have stitches," Talian said sympathetically. He hated this. A few months before, there would have been smoldering anger in his voice, but these days he was too broken and exhausted to bother. He pursed his lips then reached for the needle and sinew that his helper had already provided.

"Inhale deeply and count backwards from thirty. This won't take long."

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#17
The sound of Talian wringing out the rag into the redwort solution made him stiffen with sickening dread. More powerful than his want to be free of the pain was his need to know what was going on around him. Being drugged was not an option with him. It never had been, even when he was still with his family. His oldest brother Sarron was the same way. His father might also be that way, but Sanderon had never known the man to be injured. Perhaps he was too skilled to make injurious mistakes. His closest brother Arkero needed to be drugged. He was brave and all but did not deal with pain well. He welcomed the relief that came from the drugs.

Thinking on his family now, Sanderon tried not to groan while his wounds were being cleaned and flushed. Talian's hands were gentle and very quick. It was something he was extremely grateful for. When the one with a small bit of debri in it was given a slightly harder wiping out, he couldn't help but to jerk his body with a muffled cry into the pillow.

Done. The cleaning was done? Wonderful! Maybe now he could feel the wonderful effects of numbweed.

Stitches? A very slight trembling entered his limbs with the effort it took for him to just lay there and take more.

Taking a deep breath as was suggested, he let it out not with mumbled numbers but quickly with a tortured groan which he quickly tried to suppress. The first stab of the needle had been totally expected but worse than he thought it would be. Was he getting weak-minded in his exhaustion? It was just a needle prick after all. He should be able to handle a few of those without any trouble at all. Right?

Each stab and gentle pulling of the thread to close the wound, so it could heal, was keenly felt. It was not fun in the least but Sand knew that when it was over, the relief could come. He just had to get through it. Talian's voice speaking about mundane, daily activities was at first irritating but then it became his anchor. He did not listen to the words so much as the voice itself. Talian might not realize how much this simple act of speaking was helping Sanderon to cope. He would have to thank the man when it was all said and done.

"Numbweed now?" Sanderon mumbled with hope, when the stitching was complete.


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#18
The stitches didn't take long. Only the middle section of the wound had cut so deep, presumably because it bore the brunt of the blow. Talian was able to secure it with only seven stitches, each made quickly and cleanly in rapid succession. Once his word was done, the focused healer tied the sinew off and snipped off the end. "There you are," he said, giving Sanderon a light pat on the arm.

The healer smiled, his expression softening as his need for focus ended. "Numbweed now," he confirmed, nodding to Sanderon before turning to fetch the salve from it's place on the nearby supply table.

Talian returned swiftly. He applied a generous portion of the salve to his patient's back, careful to cover each stripe, though he went a little easy on the stitches themselves. There would be plenty of numbness across his back in general and he would undoubtedly be comfortable, so Talian saw no reason to unnecessarily moisten the wound.

"All right, Sanderon. Lay on your side or your back for now and try not to stretch your back out too much. I'm going to have to keep you here overnight for observation, but you can go first thing in the morning," Talian said. He wished he knew what to say to try and reassure the poor man. He could barely remember how inconsolable he had been after B'jin's lashing. He couldn't imagine how B'jin must have felt; or this young man. Tal's blood still ran cold when he thought of his S'kef had threatened him with the whip, too.

Rather than trying and failing with awkward words, Tal just cast a sympathetic smile laced with traces of sadness. "Do you need anything else?" he asked politely.  He was in o hurry to abandon his patient, but Sand seemed quarrelsome and prideful, and probably would have been offended any sympathetic words and would prefer to be left alone anyhow. Just in case, however, Talian awaited his response.

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#19
When the stitching was complete, much to Sanderon's relief the numbweed was applied. He gasped out loud with the intense relief it brought. Angry, turmoiled thoughts raged through his mind. Once they had guarded the solid mental door behind which his deep anguish lay. But now they seemed to be trying to batter it down.

Twisting with dark, evil fingers, his anguish began to leak and twist around his rage in a way that made Sanderon want to scream. Instead, he tried hard to build back up his defenses and rolled onto his back like he was asked. He moved slowly and carefully until he was looking up at Talian with haunted eyes unable to hold back some of his true feelings. Before he knew his mouth had even opened he heard his voice ask Talian in a surprising calm voice, "Did you regret being born the day you chose to kill yourself? Is the only reason why you didn't die because someone loved you? When...if I ever killed myself my body would just be dropped Between like a sack of crap. ...I envy you."

Horrified at what he had said, he narrowed his eyes and attempted to put back on his mask of aggression. "You forgot my wrists." He growled as he lifted one of his bloody wrists where he had been tied. See! His mind raged at him. Not even the healers care that you are hurt. They only fix the obvious. Who could ever love you?


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#20
Ah, that old demon. Talian exhaled subtly, his soft eyes closing as he thought back on that day that seemed so long ago. Had it really been nearly a while turn since he took that leap into the unknown?

He unconsciously drew his hands in front of him and wrung them nervously. He hated thinking about that day. He could still remember the confused, disillusioned feelings that filled his mind as he closed his office door behind him and put the drink to his lips. It felt so nice and warm at first, flavored with his favorite spices and heated just to his liking. It carried an uncomfortable aftertaste, but that was a small price to pay for slipping away so easily.

That's what he'd thought, at least. What felt like a needed and justified escape quickly turned into a nightmare. He shuddered, then quickly cut his tawny eyes back towards the other young man.

He recognized the sharp shift in mannerism. The other young man was troubled at the very least, which was understandable after what he'd just endured. The shift was troubling, though. The beginning signs of unhealthy repression, perhaps? Tal's medical curiosity (and concern) was sparked, but for now his focus was clouded for formulating an answer to the question.

He wordlessly took Sanderon's wrists and started tending to them, not even responding to the cruel words and anger that had been thrust his way. He just worked, his expression softening to a state of transparent melancholy as he continued to meditate on that fateful decision.

"I've thought about that a lot since it happened," he said at length. Talian often thought about his near-suicide, but he never actually talked about it. No one he knew wanted to talk about it. They all wanted it repressed, locked away forever. Talian knew better, though. He couldn't repress something like that. He carried it with him, much as he carried the newest incident with him. It was part of him now.

For a while, everyone around him had whispered about it. Everyone knew. Everyone talked, just not to him. It had been a long time now since he'd even heard the whispers, though. Or had it really been that long? Did it just feel like a long time?

Talian inhaled softly. His movement became stiff, his breathing uncomfortable. His eyes glimmered with profound sadness for a moment before he let out a long breath, reminding himself to relax. His calmness returned, but it came with a tattered spirit.

"I suppose you could say that, though. Many people told me they loved me before I did it, but I didn't believe them until after." His eyes widened with mellow intensity. "...But there's one thing about it that I wish I'd seen before..."

He peeled his gloves off.

"Had I succeeded...I would have been defeated. Utterly. This place would have won, and these people would have succeeded in destroying me." He spoke with quiet resolve, restrained and thoughtful. He sank back into his quiet sadness and his thoughtfulness, his expression almost distant as he  faded back to that night.

"People can say what they want about me trying," Talian finally whispered, "But I'm proud of myself for making it."

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#21
Sanderon watched as Talian worked on his wrists. The gentleness of Talian's hands showed his compassion. His speed and sure movements showed to Sanderon how capable the man was. It was painful but he could ignore it better while Talian spoke of his past.

He could see the different emotions crossing the man's features. Sanderon's heart ached as he listened. He wanted to feel the release Talian did not take. He just wanted to end it all. Talian had spoken about how he had not believed his friends when they told them of their love. He only realized it after. Sanderon didn't even have that consolation. No one had spoken or even hinted of their love for him here. Sure, some people could give a passing smile or a friendly nod, but love?

He did not know love here at all.

Shells! Sanderon just wanted to end it all. He was even tempted to ask Talian for that special brew for himself. But he didn't have it in him. No. He didn't really want to die. He just couldn't live like he was anymore. His heart and mind were full of turmoil and he was having a hard time controlling his emotions. He couldn't shove them down as easily any more. Everything he tried to do, to say, to think...None of it was good enough. He was hated and he couldn't really blame anyone for it. It was just how things were.

With his control firmly in place for the moment and his expression as masked as ever his ears heard Talian's last remarks.

"...these people would have succeeded in destroying me."

"Perhaps they already have." He answered with no emotion. He wasn't just talking about Talian. The Healer looked battered for sure, but broken? He had no idea. All Sanderon knew was how he felt and his very mind was trying to tear him apart. He did not know how much strength he had left to combat it.

When his wrists were cared for to completion he muttered tiredly, "Thank you Talian. I'm glad you did not give up. Stay strong."


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#22
Talian looked back at Sanderon, equally emotionless. There was no sadness or joy or pain in his eyes, though behind his walls there lurked a very visible streak of empathy. Talian knew what it felt like to be hopeless and alone in this helllish place. But even he had a small advantage when he first arrived; his searchrider, the man who'd so callously torn it all away from him, took pity and came to his aid. Talian had resented and feared B'jin at first, but in time he came to value one of the first true friends he'd ever had.

The world played cruel tricks sometimes. In spite of the counter-intuitive nature of their bond, Talian credited it with saving his life. He didn;t know who had searched Sanderon, but he imagined to fill that role, someone didn't have to follow the exact same model as B'jin. It could just be anyone who took the time to say a few kind words. Shards, Tal could ever remember a few kind words changing his mind about that horrible mistake he'd almost made.

He looked down. Already destroyed? Is what what Sanderon thought? As Talian tried to formulate a response, all he could think about was J'ver.

"There are many kinds of destruction," the healer said simply. The sadness and brokenness came, washing onto his face for a few long seconds before the final comment reached him. At that point, Talian could only smile. It was a meek smile, as he always tended towards, but he hoped that among all this darkness, his fellow northerner could find it encouraging.

"Same to you," he said gently before turning to walk out. He had other duties to attend to and Sanderon needed rest. But in all honestly, Talian's biggest fear was that the other young man would ask too many questions. Perhaps one day he could answer them all, but for now, Talian was too unsure of himself to risk talking about it as if he were wise. For now, Sanderon was probably even worse off. He needed time to think, not more muddled details to ponder over. That would be a conversation for the future.

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