19.Aug.12, 07:25 AM
"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.
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.