Apologies without Action [Sanderon]

Jada had risen with the sun. It was an action that grew increasingly easy as the light slid across the Sands, raising the temperatures beyond what was already hardly bearable. She had watched over the eggs, with Krypth's hesitant permission, and the Weyrling had gone out to go and get some food. While she was gone, the Harper had stared at the eggs with great intensity. She knew that Krypth had hardened on these very Sands- which is why Jada wondered if maybe the temperature was too much? Really, the Gold was a little hardboiled sometimes, if her meaning was understood. Moving around the eggs, she prodded at the sand near them, not daring to touch the eggs themselves. It had been an experience, getting to feel the creature inside- whatever it looked like- moving within the egg she had dubbed the Bongo. One of the smallest, it was also one of the most beautiful. Really, though, the colors of the Bass were also enchanting...

I am back, Beloved. Krypth interrupted the Harper's musing. I am well-fed. Thank yo- Jada! you moved this one, didn't you. The sand looks different! The Gold uttered a harsh noise from her throat, shifting her clutch around, glaring at Jada accusingly. I can't believe you did that. Do you know what you might have done? This was my thinking pattern, Jada. I was thinking very hard, and it helped me concentrate.

"Concentrate?"

You are banished from my Sands until lunch. Krypth nudged her rider away, humming under her breath, thinking. Go do something constructive. Bother Tsuen. She deserves it. Obediently, the Goldrider left the Sands, and stared up at the morning sky, considering. It was hot out, and her dress was sticking to her. A bath and a change of clothes was one thing the Healer would order... And then, of course, breakfast. And thinking of Tsuen led the Harper's mind to someone else who she should probably go and visit.

She took a long bath, scrubbing every inch of herself, pleased to note all of her bruises she had been acquiring from people were fading. She had been a piece of artwork as of late, really. Slipping into a serviceable pair of breeches and a white linen tunic, she left her wet hair down so that it could air dry and made her way back across the Weyr to the kitchens. People were staring at her, mingled hostility and genuine kindness. It warmed her heart to have so many of her Northern Stolen still smile at her, reaching out to her as that Harper girl that they knew, not just as a goldrider. Yet here and there she could see the occasional hostile glance, as if she were a traitor for being Chosen.

As if she'd been the one to make the choice.

Stepping into the kitchen, she pored over the selection of breakfast foods. Most of it was leftovers from the evening before, this early in the morning, so she grabbed a few bubbly pies and a few hunks of meat. It went into a small basket, and she pored over the selection of juices. Three cups, three plates, and a carafe of crisp, cool fruit juice ended her selection. With those items in hand, she made her way to the Healer hall.

It was surprisingly easy to gain entrance to where they were keeping the boy who had been lashed. Sanderon was still being lathered with numbweed and dosed with fellis. On the suggestion of the nurse in charge, Jada cut up the meat in advance, and left her knife at the front. They were not sure if he would be violent, and did not want him to have a weapon, in case he was...

She understood.

Knocking lightly on the door, she did not wait for a reply before she pushed it open and poked her head inside, trying to see if he was awake or not. "Sanderon?"

Sanderon was sitting on the edge of his bed with his wrapped wrists in stark contrast to his tanned skin. He was shirtless and barefoot. His footwear had been confiscated. He was not cold though. The anger he felt within was enough to warm him.

When he heard the slight sound of footsteps coming closer he figured it was just another attendant coming to check up on him so he fixed his glare of hatred upon the door. When it opened to reveal someone else entirely, his angry gaze dissipated slightly as confusion and distrust took it's place. What was Jada doing here?

The smell of food assaulted his nose at this point and his mouth began to water. His stomach rolled with anticipation. He refused to look even the least bit interested in her or the food she had. In fact, he looked upon the ground as he sat there on the bed, wondering what was going to happen now.

He remembered vaguely some of the things she had said at his lashing. Part of him was glad that she had tried to shut the other girl up. Part of him hated her for 'accepting' her place here in weyr. Perhaps her dragon was brainwashing her. The thought was a new and and suddenly made his resolve not to Impress even stronger. He wanted to remain who his was. He wanted his mind to his own.

Perhaps Jada couldn't help herself.

Jada was more than pleased when she poked her head into the room to see the very man she had some to see looking awake and aware. She immediately smiled, only to have it pale in the face of animosity and confusion. Ahh, well this was a good start. At least he wasn't hurling curses and threats in her general direction. Always a plus! Good start!

"Good morning," the Harper tried to jeep her voice light as she pushed the door open and invaded his space. Well, community space, she would have been much more hesitant to step into his personal space. "I wanted to come and see how you are feeling, though I suspect it us something akin to Wherry shit." She moved towards the bedside, lifting up the basket.

She could add that she wanted to apologize, but that would insinuate she had done something to him personally. She could make excuses, she could babble about his injuries... But she wouldn't.

"I can only imagine you are a little hungry. Talian and his lot are absolutely starved me when I was recuperating. Nice they are, and busy to boot. Plus, healers just seem to have a different idea if what constitutes food. No grease? Sorry, my heart is still young. Lube it up." She sat the basket on a table next to his bed and peered at him. "You aren't looking bad at all." Comparatively to some of the others she had seen.

Jada's lighthearted greeting was annoying. There was nothing happy or good about this day. Sanderon kept his mouth shut against the obscenities he felt like describing his day as. There was no point. Besides, Jada had never done anything against him personally so right now, his opinion of her character was still under review. He had to hand it to her though, she could be pleasant even in the most unpleasant of places. Just the fact that she had come to see him at all without flying fists or sharp words was a positive mark in his estimation of her. Whether the rest of the visit went as well remained to be seen.

When he heard her acknowledgment of how he was probably feeling, he tried to keep a stern expression but a quick twitch at the corners of his mouth might have suggested the beginnings of an agreeable smirk. A moment later all trace of it was gone. Instead a passive-aggressive frown in his countenance remained.

Jada brought up the subject of food then, much to Sanderon's inner relief. He was starving. With her talk about the food in Healer Hall, the quick hint of that half-hidden smirk returned though he fought to get it back under control. Now was not the time to make nice. He did not want friends here. He just wanted to be respected as a human being and not the feral creature everyone seemed to think he was. He just wanted to be left alone. He was a caged hunter and he did not like it one bit. At least they didn't tie him up. That was some consolation.

This good food that Jada had brought was also a nice consolation. But could he trust it? Was it laced with sedatives too?

His mind having been distracted with the food she was revealing, suddenly looked upon her when she mentioned that he 'looked good'. After studying her expression and body language and determined that she was sincere, he opened his mouth for the first time and said,

"Thank you Jada. Since I look so good, as you say, perhaps you can make them let me out of here. You are a queen rider, aren't you?"

Well his words did start out thankful and almost kind but they turned sour as his angry frustration leaked out.

She was glad that she had chosen to rattle right along. The smallest twitch of his mouth was a burning reward for Jada, and it lightened her heart considerably. Easily pleased? Quite so. Easily encouraged? Guilty as charged! It was the littlest of things that encouraged Jada to keep on trucking- even when that small little hint vanished in the sun like a dream. She bit her lip, eyebrows furrowing just a bit. Ahh, how come she had never learned social skills such as 'faking it'?! Luckily, she earned another such glimmer, and her eyes brightened, her face relaxing another hair.

"I brought some pies," she told him, pulling open the basket. "I don't know you well enough to know what you like, so I brought a grand selection of all my favorites. Well, I wouldn't say grand, but I was about to get chased out with a spoon for taking too long to decide what I wanted." Those kitchen ladies could be vicious beasts, they could! "And I remember hearing tell that wherry meats and herdbeast are 'protein' and help build strong muscled and bones and the like. I'm not sure how I believe that."

She could feel the man's eyes on her, and she tried to keep her face straight, but glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Oop- still watching. Jada ducked her head down, pretending not to have become aware of his gaze on her.

Until he spoke, it was possible. In fact, she had thought that she was doing a pretty good job. At his words, however, her shoulders fell. Momentarily, her face crumpled, and she felt the pain shoot across it. And then she took a breath and turned, looking Sanderon over, eyes critical. It wasn't his tone, for that part was forthright enough. Exasperated, perhaps, already stuck of being cooped up in a Healer's cage. That feeling was going around the Weyr like an epidemic. Or a plague, but some people were more sensitive about plague jokes than others. It was the end... the frustration. That resonated with her, and made her expression go from critical, to pitying, to understanding.

"You are welcome, but I said you looked good, not that you look hale and healthy." Her eyebrows lifted, and she pulled out the carafe of fruit juice. Opening it carefully, she poured two cups, setting one on the table next to him. Sipping her own cup of juice, she let the chill liquid slide over her tongue as she continued her perusal, noting the color of his skin. Was he always that pale, or was it the blood loss? She had no clue. "Besides, I'm a Harper, not a Healer. I can't tell the difference between a scrape and bleeding out."

She licked her lips, and relaxed her hand, placing the cup down on the table next to the basket. "On the other hand, you are correct. I will, one day, be a queen rider. But at this point in time, Sanderon, it only means as much as someone is willing to let it mean. I'm still a Weyrling. Krypth hasn't even learned to go Between." There was more she wanted to say; she could feel the words on the tip of her tongue, waiting to spill out. But she paused, waited.

Truth be told he was far from being well enough to leave. But he would be the last one to admit it. Seeing Jada's emotions flow across her face, gave Sanderon a good idea of what she might be thinking. Who was this Jada person? Every moment that went by seemed to provide another tiny piece of the puzzle. Did he really care about how Jada felt right now or who she really was? Surprisingly the answer was yes. But again he would be the last to admit it. He did not want to be 'nice' right now. He wanted to pummel the world and roar out his raging defiance.

For now, he behaved. There was no reason for him to move and thus cause himself more pain. There was no reason to harm Jada. Not that he would want to anyway. He wasn't the type that would ever hurt a female. He cared about them too much. Should she turn and attack him though, he would have no reservations about defending himself against her. He seriously doubted Jada would do such a thing anyway. All the pieces of her character's puzzle that he had seen so far suggested a kind pillar of strength. Not a devious enemy.

Calming down slightly from his frustrated anger when she began speaking again, her comment about getting chased out with a spoon caused a surprising sound to come softly to his throat. It was silenced quickly but was unmistakeable. Even the twitch of his mouth suggested at the truth. He had chuckled.

Having caught himself chuckling even for the briefest of moments seemed like a betrayal to his family. He could not be happy here. He should not smile. He should not find humor even in the littlest of things. Life without his parents and his two brothers was not suppose to be good. Turning his face down to look upon the wrappings covering his wrist wounds, he gave a troubled sigh and just sat there looking unhappy again as Jada spoke.

He had just been tied like a dangerous beast in the midst of a crowd of people that really didn't care about him personally and tortured until he cried and screamed out his agony. How could he possibly chuckle now? Shaking his head just slightly at himself as he buried himself in his own mind, he missed some of what Jada said.

When he raised his eyes again and considered her, she was pouring fruit juice. Taking his own cup very carefully so as not to show his pain with the movement caused, he took a sip and closed his eyes for a brief moment as the cool taste comforted his throat. Opening them again he commented to Jada, "Well, I wasn't scraped."

Hearing her explain to him about how she wasn't 'technically' a Queen Rider yet but a weyrling, made a lot of things fall into place. Jada held no authority...at all. Not yet. So even if she were to tell someone to let him go, they probably wouldn't listen.

Looking into his juice glass and then over to the basket the promised good food, his gaze tried to search her own. He was truly confused and his expression hinted at it around his eyes. "Why are you doing this? Why are you here Jada? ...The truth please." His voice was low and surprisingly calm.

Whether she trusted him enough to tell him why she had come, even if it was just to be nice, or not tell him was totally up to her. He would be satisfied with a shrug at that point and leave it at that. But he did hope to be told. He did not know what to think of her yet. Was her act of generous kindness to be trusted? He had no idea and it made him uncomfortable.

Taking another sip of his juice, he moved the glass back over to the table next to him and kicked himself mentally when a slight cringe escaped his control. Don't show pain. He told himself for the millionth time since his capture. Be strong Sanderon.

The gargled noise that had spilled briefly from Sanderon's throat made Jada's dark head jerk in alarm. Oh no! Had he swallowed something? Was he choking? It would not look good for her to have gone on a mission of mercy and ended up murdering the very person she was there to visit. Or anyone else, truly, but it would look especially bad if Sanderon died while- oh, thank goodness, he was fine. But what had he- had she made him laugh? Was that why the noise was so strangled? She knew her eyes were more than a little wide as she stared at him, a bit more like a startled runner rather than the composed young Harper she tried to be.

"You certainly weren't." she agreed, and her golden-brown eyes drifted back to the sheets he lay on, stained a little with the ointments that they were slathering on him to keep his cut flesh from radiating the agony it was in to his mind. She knew the smell of the ointment intimately, but she had been forced to make do with fellis primarily for a long time. The depth of the cuts, and the fact that she had almost died from an infection, had made the healers less likely to slather her down until some of the healing had begun. Fresh, clean bandages. Drugs... Hazy memories.

She met the questioning gaze that jumped to hers, head tilting attentively. If the boy had something to say, he certainly deserved to get it off his chest. But it was not accusations that came from his lips, nor was it bile and vitriol. Instead it was a firm, steady question, and she smiled to hear it. Why had she come? It was such a deceptively simple question. But there were so many layers to why she had come to him now, and she wasn't sure what would be truth and what would be a lie to make her sound good.

Morbid curiosity. Genuine concern. The desire to be blamed, to be thought of as a good person, the desire to tell him she was sorry. The desire to help someone who needed it, even in such a tiny way. To reach out, and let him know that she had spoken the truth? That not all Riders- or Weyrlings- were out to see people suffer? Because she was just a sucker for big brown eyes? Hah. "When I have my reasons pinned down to one or two, I'll tell you." she promised, and pulled the food out of the basket, displaying her kitchen-plunder to him at last. "If you have any other questions, though, I'll do my best to answer them."

"So, what looks good to you? If you're hungry. I've got meat, meat, and pies. I should have grabbed some fruit, but I didn't even think about it." She pulled a chair close by his bed and plopped herself down into it, spreading her skirt as a makeshift addition to the table.

Sanderon thought Jada's wide-eyed reaction to his brief laugh to be even more humorous than her comment that caused him to chuckle in the first place but this time he let nothing show. He quietly appreciated the fact that she did not think his wounds were insignificant. But he also did not want her pity. Having already seen that reaction pass across her face, even if briefly, was irritating.

He noticed her look towards the blanket he sat on and wondered what it was she was thinking. But he waited for his last question to be answered first. He wondered what she would say and if he could believe it. When Jada opened her mouth he was prepared to do a mental growl at her answer. What actually came out of her mouth though was surprisingly refreshing. Though she had not answered as to why she had come, she also did not lie. She would think before she spoke. It was something he immediately admired. Another positive in his estimation of her had occurred. And this time he rewarded her with more than just a brief smile.

This time his slightly longer-than-brief smile was accompanied by quiet praise. "You are wise to think before answering. I appreciate that." There were no trumpets sounding or streamers falling but his praise was so rare there ought to have been. Of course Jada could think what she would. Sanderon gave what was due and now he retained his silence again.

With the selection of foodstuffs that she had brought, his mouth began to water.

"I am a hunter...at least I used to be." His eyes flashed with a quick moment of anger and then softened again as he added. "I like meat. ....Thank you. ....You didn't bring a knife with you by chance?"

Of all the things that Jada kept expecting to pour forth from Sanderon's mouth, she had not heard a one. And his compliment, in fact, set her cheeks on fire. The Harper ducked her head, trying to remember how one was to react when complimented. Modest was good, and Jada was modest, but this was a nice compliment and a nice conversation, and she didn't want to make him think that she was demurring just to make it seem like she was more modest than she was. Oop- was the panic showing? "Thank you?" she settled with, and busied herself with filling his cup back up, and breaking one of the pies into smaller bits, shaping it neatly onto a plate.

Breaking up food was a familiar action for her, and one she caught herself doing out of habit more than pity. Jada was used to taking care of those who had smaller mouths, and she had needed to do this for herself more than once over the last few months. She piled the bits neatly on the plate, and glanced up at him as he commented that he had been a hunter. "I'm surprised the Weyr doesn't make more use of your particular skill, then. It seems like every time I hear hunting being brought up, someone is complaining about one aspect or another of it. I got the chore myself not so long ago, and that was an adventure. I've never used a weapon in my life."

She smiled at him, nodding her head to his thanks, wordless. "I had a knife. Unfortunately, I... wasn't allowed to bring it back with me." Whether he would have been the danger to her or to himself, no one had rightly explained, and Jada had accepted their hesitation. Either way, someone would have lost. And a grievous loss it would have been indeed. Like it or not, Lymsleia had made Sanderon a symbol of unjust repression. And the little fool had the temerity to say- No. Jada would not dwell on that catastrophe. Out of those ashes would come something new.

"If you need something cut smaller, I can go do it for you. I tried to go bite-sized, but Faranth knows I can shovel back some food." Her offer was back to the brightness of when she had stepped in. It was not fake, but there was something she recognized in it as something... bitter. The pill she was forcing down was choking her, but she would make it through. "When you say you are a hunter, what kind of things do you hunt? Do you trap, or use a bow?" And there it was- everything she knew about his profession, drawled out as though she had half a clue.

With his juice refilled he carefully picked up his cup again and took another drink. Moving slowly he replaced it as she began to speak. Her voice was amiable enough but what she chose to speak and ask after a time caused Sanderon to stiffen. His heart screamed in agony when she brought up the subject of hunting in such an easy, light-hearted way. Did nobody warn her about the one subject you should never ask him about? Sure he had told her that he was a hunter, but she did not need to dive into the subject deeper. All those questions brought back too many memories and too many realities he now faced because of it all.

That agony in his heart quickly flashed into serious anger. Rage wasn't there quite yet but it was sneaking up quickly. His father was a hunter. His brothers were hunters. His mother was the one that cooked all of their hunts with delicious aromas. He had been on his very first solo over-night hunt. It was his family's way of marking the passage between boy and man. He never even got to start before madness crashed out of the sky and captured his very soul. Now, he was forbidden to hunt at all. They didn't even trust him with a simple eating utensil!

His face was not a mask now. It was a dangerous, feral landscape of pain and rage.

Trying to stand in his rage only to lose his balance in his pain and weakness only caused him to become more upset. His juice glass had been knocked off when he fell against the table. Any food that might have been in his reach was probably also scattered.

"Hunting is not what we do!" He screamed in her face. "It is who we are! I am a hunter! They cage me like an animal!"

Trying again to stand, he wanted to break something, someone, anything. He was not thinking clearly and could only release his tortured mind and heart. Too bad it cause his flesh to feel it too when he grabbed the table and overturned it. Screaming in rage and agony as he did so when his wounds split open again in protest.

The footsteps that came running in response to the 'explosion' in his room, only made him angrier. He faced Jada then and groaned out in his rage, something that his heart was pleading with her to do. "Run."

She watched him set the glass down on the table, amber eyes apprising his movements for any obvious signs of weakness or strain. The Harper expected some, of course, it was only natural given his recent beating. It was as she spoke that she noticed the stiffening of his body, the way he seemed to move to pensive, and pained. Had Sanderon been so abused here that he had not learned to bend? That was a genuine shame; so many of Jada's fellows had not learned to bend in the foreign winds, and were being broken. Sanderon was making a good impression on her, overall, but his very strength...

He changed then, rage turning his somewhat attractive face into an ugly mask that she was quickly able to identify and accept. If he had been well, in truth, she may have been more afraid than she currently was. In bold facts, he had placed a cup on a table only with extreme effort. In addition, he was weaponless. She certainly would need to handle him with some care, because he was bigger than she was- and anger did make people strong. But shards, if a Healer came in and saw him having this little temper tantrum, he would be on even worse footing than before. Jada swallowed, and the brief flash of apprehension faded away behind a motherly, exasperated look. Her students would recognize it, but she had never really been in a position to train other Stolen unless they had simply wanted to join in.

The Harper watched him stand, fury and rage making the action possible. She kept her face calm, as relaxed as she possibly could. It might make him angrier, or it might have the effect of making him realize he was acting like a wounded wherry. The juice went over, spilling onto the clean floor, and she winced. And there went her bubbly pies, shard it. Wherry meat splattered, and the basket toppled off the small table with a light thud.

Considerately, Jada stood for him so he would not have to bend when he went to scream in her face. Spittle flew lightly, how very disgusting. "And what example," she asked him, when the table went flying, "Have you given them to see that they should free you from that cage?" She scowled at the boy in front of her, eyes narrowing as she thought on him. His pain was visible and audible. She could sympathize with him, so broken and hurt. A wounded creature, who wanted to wallow in his agony instead of letting someone help him. "Talk to me, Sanderon, don't yell." The thought that she could have ended up like him was there. Any one of the Stolen could end up like this tortured boy, and a regardless of the common misconception, a dragon wouldn't protect them- not from anyone.

Her eyes widened as he faced her, snarling, and she instinctively stiffened. Trapped, she thought, and pushed back the wave of alarm she felt from Krypth at the thought. It's fine. He won't hurt me. A spine (and a temper) might not be amongst Jada's most obvious traits, but the former lurked under the surface, and it kept her there now. Jada was calm, giving Sanderon an open, honest face. "I don't see why I should run. You can't catch me, even if I have to open the door. I didn’t come here to let you stew in your juices and do yourself harm through obstinacy.” Her voice was firm, though thin, and her chin jutted out. “Please lay back down.”

Sanderon wanted to continue in his rage. He wanted Jada to run, not because he was going to give chase but because when he heard the footsteps running closer he figured he knew what might happen next and he did not want Jada hurt.

When she faced him with a calm 'motherly' strength in her stance and expression, his rage began to fizzle. The pain that encompassed him when his back wounds split open made it very difficult for him to remain upright. His feral gaze visibly softened as he was berated calmly by Jada. His face of animal rage became for a brief moment that of a scared boy. His eyes looked around his feet at the mess he had caused. Looking back to Jada he did something he had never done since his capture. He allowed someone else to see his eyes fill with tears.

His mouth opened to say that he was so sorry, but he never got the chance. When the door slammed open with two of the stronger healer assistants coming quickly into the room, Sanderon's defenses were back up in full force and his anger returned as he took a step backward. Bumping against the side of the bed he tripped himself up and sat hard.

A quick glance with a hint of fear was given to Jada before the man and woman took in the situation and hurried forward. "Lady Jada, you should leave now." One of them said as they looked to Sanderon with great disapproval. Sanderon knew what was coming. They would drug him, whether he wanted to be or not.

He did not stand again. He couldn't. Instead he glared at the two, hoping they would take his expression as a warning to leave him be. In truth he was terrified. His anger was real but it was also a mask. He did not want them to know he was scared. Scared people were viewed as weak. And scared people who let their fear lead them could not defend themselves.

"I tripped!" Sanderon suddenly lied. Hoping they would believe it, but they didn't. It was too obvious what had happened, especially since he had screamed in his rage. Jada had been the only one here that had ever reached his heart in his peek of rage. Maybe it was the smell of the food. Maybe it was her calm disapproval as she faced him with logic. Maybe Jada reminded him of his beloved mother. Whatever the reason was, he felt drawn to her. He wanted to just talk and not rage but he had been trapped in this vicious cycle too long. And now it was too late for him. He was about to pay the price...again.

When a one of the persons here now was examined closer, Sanderon could see the needlethorn in her hand. Tranquilizer!

"You've done it now kid. We can do this the easy way or the hard way." The man said as he came in with the woman close behind holding the needlethorn at the ready. Both ignored Jada at this point.

Sanderon could not see if Jada stayed or not, his attention was completely on the two that were threatening. Now the smartest thing for Sanderon to have done would be to apologize and plead with them for forgiveness and hopefully avoid getting drugged. But, Sanderon wasn't inclined to plead with anyone at this point. His answer to everything it seemed was to react with anger. It seemed to be the only thing around here that got any sort of results. So his answer of "Shell you!" Wasn't taken too kindly.

He tried to fight the man off but he was as weak as a kitten and it wasn't long before he was being held face down on the bed with a needlethorn in the back of his thigh as his back bled and his desperate struggles and effort-filled groans slowly died down to silence as the drug took effect.

When Sanderon was completely subdued and was laying there with a dazed look in his sleepy eyes unable to move, the two persons began to clean up the room and set it back in order. One of them left early and was probably making arrangements for a door lock to be made. The other left soon after to alert one of the staff that Sanderon's back wounds would need to be tended to again.

Sanderon was still conscious but he was totally incapable of movement. He could blink his eyes and if he really tried he might be able to speak with great difficulty.

He spoke now. His words barely audible and terribly mumbled. To Jada, if she was still there, he said, "I'm sorry."

---

OOC: Feel free to have Jada stay by his bedside if you like. The drugs will wear off eventually and he is still able to speak although it is difficult.

The door slammed open as Sanderon's face melted like candlewax from pain to fear and back to stubbornness. Finally, it was as though she had made some kind of contact with him! her victory was short-lived, however. Jada flinched at the loud noise, and spun where she stood, taking in the Healers. She should leave? She had only just gotten here! No! Jada protested with a little noise, and was politely pushed aside, physically moved out of the way.

"He tripped!" she agreed, echoing Sanderon's frantic words, though she gave the Hunter a bewildered look behind the Healers back. Really, tripped? He couldn't think of a better excuse in the spur of the moment? Even she could have thought of something better, though she was a terrible liar and they probably would have known what she was up to. Boots stepped into the pile of wherry meat, and she heard the squeak of juice and bootleather twisting together into the stone, a wet slosh. Protesting, Jada was politely pushed back away from the bed.

"You've caused enough trouble." the woman told her, eyes flickering. Pulling something out of her pocket, she stepped closer to the boy.

It would be for the best, Jada told herself as she listened to the sounds of combat. She could at least do him the courtesy of not witnessing his shame. Jada turned her head, squatting down on the other side of the table and collecting the basket. One bubbly pie had survived his tantrum, and she took a vicious bite of it, drowning her self-loathing in berries. The sounds were over quickly; and eventually she heard feet moving away from the bed. The Healer was correcting the table, and the woman had left. "I'll take care of it." she told the man, and saw him glance at her, then the bed. "Please. I won't rile him up anymore."

Alone with the patient, Jada carefully cleaned up traces of wherry meat and fruit from the floor and the wall. Talian would kill her if he saw what she had let someone do to his Hall. When the mumbled words came through to her ears, she blinked up at Sand from her position on the floor. "It's fine." She told him, and her eyes crinkled as she gave him a gentle smile. Reaching up, she brushed a lock of hair away from his drug-dazed eyes lightly. "I'm sorry I couldn't do anything." Even if she had fought for him, all she would have gotten...

Was kicked out.

How long he slept, Sanderon did not know. When he slowly came awake the vision of Jada's gentle smile came into his mind. A soft smile crossed his lips at the memory before reality slammed back into place. His back felt gooped up with slime again. No doubt the healers had taken care of it while he was out. Immediately he stiffened with the memory of what happened shortly before he 'fell asleep'.

His mouth no longer smiled when he realized how inconsiderate and bull-headed he had been. Jada had been kind in bringing food to him. Why did he go and mess it all up. Angry with himself, his eyes flashed when he finally opened them. He felt he could move now as the drugs had worn out their effectiveness upon him.

Moving carefully, he sat up slowly in bed. His hands briefly holding each side of his head until the room stopped spinning. Thinking himself to be alone in the room he was surprised to hear the nearly inaudible sound of someone breathing nearby. Lifting his aching head quickly, he looked to see who it was. He saw that the room was back in order and cleaned nicely from the awful mess he had made of things earlier. He also saw Jada and was uncertain as to her motive for her still being there. She must hate him now. He wouldn't blame her if she did.

"Jada?" His voice was quiet and hinted at his wariness of her. Had she stuck around to berate him for his actions? Was she about to pronounce further punishment upon him? He knew he deserved it and so waited for her mouth to spill forth with angry words, nearly cringing with the anticipation of it.

Sanderon had been out for the rest of the morning, and on into the afternoon. Jada had cleaned his mess up herself, shooing away the Healers once they had brought her the supplies. They had been bemused, but not argued with her. If she wanted to clean up the mess, more the power to her. They all certainly had better things to do than tend the mess of a little boy who had indulged in a tantrum, terrified other patients, acted in a threatening manner to a dragonrider, and ripped their own healing wounds right back open in a fit of pique. If the goldrider had time to waste on him, then she obviously had nothing better to do, and they did.

She had left briefly when the room was clean, fetching a few more treats from the kitchens before going and eating on the Sands with Krypth. The eggs were hardening well, and the Gold just knew that each and every one of them was going to turn out fabulous. They had enjoyed Jada's brief repast, and then the Harper had pushed back to her feet and made the trek back to the Healer Hall, poking her head back into Sanderon's room. He was still asleep, but she slipped in anyway since the dosage was sure to wear off soon. Climbing into the chair, she settled herself comfortably, the freshly-made meat rolls and fruit on the back-in-place table, rested her cheek on her knee, and waited.

The sound of her name being called was what summoned the girl from her trance. She refused to call it sleep, just as she did not deign to acknowledge the fact she may or may not have been drooling onto her leg. She jerked, blinking fuzzily and staring at the boy in the bed in front of her. "Sanderon?" It came out a question, not at all the firm, gentle tone she had imagined it would be. It was instead quizzical and uncertain, and she covered her mouth just in time to stifle a yawn. "Hi. Welcome back." The Healers had told her he might be thirsty when he first woke up, so she pulled out another cup, giving him a finger's height of juice.

"Do you need any help sitting up? They said you may still feel a little numb, maybe some dry mouth."

Having seen Jada's face softened from what he supposed was sleep, his own features softened slightly. He still did not know why she was there but he was not afraid of her now. How could he be. She looked so gentle.

After calling her name and seeing her lift her head from her knee. He pushed back on the emotional mask he wore now. He let no one in. It was safer that way and not just for himself. He was not trusted. He was viewed as an uncertain risk, possibly even a danger. If anyone freely associated with him, what kind of person would they mark them to be?

The uncertain question in her voice caught his attention when she called his name. Her stifled yawn nearly made him smile. But he refrained. He was sitting up and the room had thankfully stopped spinning, so he lowered his hands away from his head and looked at her. The drink she poured was something that Sand was eager for. His mouth felt like a thick ball of wool had been stuffed inside.

When her mouth opened to welcome him back to consciousness, Sand's mask slipped a little. His eyes softened slightly right before he wondered if Jada's dragon could see him through her eyes. His mask was back up again and he nodded. "Thanks." His voice was rough. Reaching out for the juice she had poured he managed to carry the cup to his mouth and drank deeply. When the liquid was gone, he set the cup back on the table. Shifting his weight a little, he put his legs over the side of his bed and sat there feeling like a weak baby. He hated the feeling of being helpless. It was not safe for him not to be able to defend himself if needed.

Ignoring her question about sitting up, since he had already done so, he searched her face carefully, almost curiously. "Does she love you Jada? Or are you your dragon's slave now? Does she treat you well? Does she force you to do things you don't want to?"

Sanderon had these burning questions and many more slamming around in his brain for quite some time now. Being unable to leave the room even if the healers let him, made him realize that this next touching and hatching, he might not be able to avoid. He would have to be there. He did not want to be anyone's slave, especially to something that might take over his mind. If one of the hatchlings were to actually impress him, would he lose himself to it? Would he be forced to think and act differently?

His next question was very important. "Are you happy now Jada?"

"You're welcome." Jada was pleased to see Sanderon lift the cup, but considering she had barely put any liquid in there? It was probably not the triumph she was playing it up as. She watched him drink, then set the cup down, and promptly poured a little more juice in there for him to reach out and grab if he found he had any more of a thirst. The Hunter might notice that the basket was a little further out of his reach this time, and much better secured, but that it was a slightly different basket than before. He might not. More visibly obvious was the lack of a mess on his floor, meaning that while he slept someone had been on a cleaning spree.

He shifted in the bed, and she watched his legs swing off the platform and point towards the floor. His answer to her question was obviously a 'no' then. She would have been more than happy to aid, and not thought any less of him for asking it. It was a common courtesy and kindness that one person should provide aid to another who needed it. While she may not have accepted either if the circumstances were reversed, she knew that her reasoning would have been because she didn't want to cause a problem... and his were possibly his pride. A trait he seemed to hold in great measure, actually, though she barely knew him.

They said what people hated and admired most in other folk were the traits that they themselves bore. Jada was a proud person as well. And oh, yes, she saw it in Sanderon. The boy had pride- and fear- in spades. Ah, well, everyone got to have their vices and virtues. Sanderon opened his mouth, and only Faranth knew what was going to come from his lips. The question, however, surprised her.

"You certainly go for the hard questions first." She smiled wryly, and then shook her head. "Are those the rumors that are being spread amongst the Candidates? Their Harpers should have taught them better. Stories of the Dragonriders are our bread and butter, even though we believed the dragons dead." She spoke of the Harpers as though she were still one of them, a part of Harper Hall. Maybe one Turn wasn't enough to change a person, regardless of what they went through in that time. "Then again, the last dragons were believed dead when I was only 8 Turns."

But to think that somewhere out there a Harper wasn't teaching the younglings about dragons made her heart hurt. Her mother had beaten those songs into her head, as had most the Hall.

"Does she love me? I honestly don't know if dragons understand love as we do. Krypth doesn't love her mother, or her father. She feels affection for her clutchmates, but no more than any of the other dragons. I don't know if defining the bond that we share as 'love' is particularly right. But yes, I would say that what she feels for me is as close to being love as any other emotion I have seen a dragon display. I am most certainly not her slave. Physically, she can force me to do nothing. She would never hurt me, and even if she got it into her mind to, she could never do it on purpose. Knock me over too hard, play too rough, well, a canine can hurt you too. And those can bite you on purpose." It was kind of... strange, to be comparing a dragon to a canine.

"She does treat me well." She smiled, standing, moving around his room a bit, thinking. "She cares for me more than anyone else ever has. She worries over my moods, if I am eating right, and she cares that I am taking care of my responsibilities. As for forcing me to do things I don't want to, no more than my mother ever did. 'Eat that, Jada, it is good for you. Wash your hands, you don't know what's gotten on them. Don't chew your fingernails!' The only difference is that this is a partnership. She takes care of me, and I take care of her." She gave a shrug, face helpless.

"Am I happy?" She blew air out her nose, considering. Everything she had lost. Everything she had gained. Everything that she had yet to do, yet to earn. Instead of answering his question, she asked one of her own.

"Sanderon, did your Harper ever teach you the duty song?" It was the teacher in her shining through, she knew it. Her face lit up, eager for a lesson she had to share, if he was willing to learn.

---

Oh, we must give honor to those dragons heed
In thought and in favor, in word and in deed
For our world will be lost or our world will be saved
From those dangers that are by the dragons braved.

Weaver and farmer and miner and smith
Tanner and herdsman, all lord holders with
Our harpers attuned to the lessons we learn-
Remember our duty to those who save Pern.

We'll nurture our dragons, the queens rule their bands;
Their clutches will shell on the Hatching Ground sands.
We'll Search out the riders who will love and endure
With their dragonmates keeping our planet secure.

We rise from the Weyr on our dragonmates bold,
Aloft in the sky, Bronze, Brown Blue, Green and Gold.
Wheeling and turning, the hungry Threads burning
A dragon must fly when there are Threads in the sky.

Oh, Lord of the Hold, you must keep your charge sure
Behind metal doors, with your people secure.
See well to the herdbeast, keep cellars well stored
Lest Fall leave you hungry and Holdless and scored.

Oh, we must give honor to those dragons heed
In thought and in favor, in word and in deed,
For our world will be lost or our world will be saved
From those dangers that are by the dragons braved.

Having been ashamed at his outburst that had trashed her offering of food earlier in the day, Sanderon was quick to noticed that she had another basket nearby. More food? Why? He wasn't worth the trouble. Why was she still here?

The questions he had asked, especially the one about love was very important to Sanderon. Though his actions and voice might vehemently deny it, love is what he needed most right now. He needed someone to save him from himself.

Hearing that Jada's dragon probably did not 'love' her nearly sent his anguish leaking into his mind again. He fought it back and tried to put up his front of anger again. This time though it might not be so convincing. He fought so hard to stay strong; to look strong and to be strong. Nearly a turn and a half he had slammed his anguishing heart down deep. But his emotional and mental strength was wearing very thin.

When Jada asked him if he knew the Duty Song, his lips tightened and his eyes burned. One last final shove against his own mind, he opened his mouth and told the most outrageous lie he could. Perhaps he could kill his anguish into silence if he simply denied it's existence.

"I hate that song." He growled.

In reality, he used to sing that very song with his mother. He had a very nice voice and his mother loved to hear him use it. Denying his love of the song was the last straw. He was really trying to deny his love for his mother. Maybe if he didn't love her so deeply anymore, living here might not be so unbearable.

His face nearly shattered from it's mask, but he fought it hard.

Pushing through his heart's agony he said with little emotion. "Dragons aren't like that any more."

"I hate that song," he growled.

Jada spun one foot, face blissfully neutral. "It's one of my favorites." she told him. "Always was. I used to wonder why the dragons went away, and my mother told me they got sick. It was only when my father died that I realized what had happened to the dragons. They had gone away, just like my father. There was no one left to keep me safe, or raise me up," her eyes closed, remembering the way her father would lift her above his head, "And up." The dragons had died, and her father was gone, and her mother had lied.

"Dragons aren't like that any more." he said, his voice bland, and Jada opened her eyes, scowling and wrinkling her nose.

"You're wrong." she told him bluntly. "Dragons are just as they have always been, it is the Dragon Riders who have changed. You're not that much younger than me, if you're not older. You remember your history." Her mind raced, trying to think of some way to make him understand. "Sanderon, if you had a lover? She- or he- is as close to you as anyone you have ever known. Just seeing them happy fills you with joy. Every smile, every breath, is something shared between you. You have no secrets, no lies. It isn't always bliss, of course, because you are disparate people, but your love is something tangible between you."

There was a point to it coming, if he stayed patient with her. Jada would be patient with him, try and share her views- even if he never accepted, she aimed for him to understand. And this was the best way she could think of to share with him...

"And then one day, they start coughing. An innocent little thing, isn't it? Water, down the wrong way. They are fine. And the next day? They blame the cough on the season, on a chill. And then one morning you wake up and your lover is wracked with fever, an infection perhaps. What would you do?"

With conflicting emotions slamming against his control, he hoped Jada would drop the subject and either stay quiet for a while or go on to something less painful. He needed the time to sort himself out. He did not want to think anymore. He did not want to remember. His lips twitched and his eyes couldn't focus on one thing for long before they either flickered to something else or grew blank as his mind tried to shut down his emotions.

He was having a very difficult time as his thoughts screamed and scattered, battered and tore at his mind. His eyes widened slightly and his lips parted with the effort it took to 'just look normal'.

With no emotion appearing in his monotone voice, he said, "I shot Ilveriath and he still stole me. Dragons don't care. No one does."

Then with the story she was trying to weave before him to make a point, all he could think of to say at the very end was, "Die."

"B'jin and Larrikith stole from the sky and grabbed me. It was my first time seeing Fort Weyr. I'd been admiring how grand it was, how big. It was- it is- an amazing piece of work, and standing there I could just... feel the dragons presence. I saw the shadow- I guess that's why they grabbed me, I've never been brave enough to ask- and then I was being jerked up into the air. My runner was escaping, and I was flying. Up and up, just like I'd dreamed as a child. So high- and then cold."

Black, Blacker, Blackest. And then everything was bright again, blinding.

Jada smiled at Sanderon's answer, but it wasn't a happy smile. It was an anguished smile. Die. Yes... if she were losing her Krypth like that, she would want to die, too. "That's what most of them chose to do. When their other half got sick, there was nothing they could do but follow them. Children lost their mothers and fathers, mates lost their other halves. My parents panicked, though I don't remember all of the details."

Her voice was strong, pained. "I am sure you got the same lecture I did when you got here. This is where the dragonriders came to. Over ten turns of loneliness and solitude, to protect their loved ones." It went without her softly accusing words that their pain was being ignored. Everyone pretended that the other 'side' was wrong, but they were all in the same sinking ship, here in Katila. "Don't think a lack of options means no one is caring." Her voice dropped, very serious. "They bring us from the North to Impress, and we are. While the biology of a dragon may never change, eventually the leadership will. And we will need to know how to use the dragons to protect Pern, same as they did."

Jada caught herself mid-yawn, wincing. "But Shards, I've managed to let go of most of my pain. I've found ways to make myself useful here, even before Krypth Impressed to me. I was probably more useful before, matter of fact." But forgiving hadn't meant forgetting, and never would. "Sanderon? Is there anything I can do for you? To make you more content here? I know it is a foolish question to ask, considering you've gotten to see the extent of what I can really do." She gestured at the basket. "I can't take you home yet, I can't promise you a knife or a bow. But I can see you've suffered."

Just like the rest of us.

The turmoil of his emotions threatened to break forth and suffocate him. With each word Jada spoke, he died a little more inside. He was being made to see, to remember, to face that which was too painful. He did not want to see anything.

Being stolen, losing family, losing dragons, the plague, being alone and fearful, sickness, death, survival....pain.

As Jada kept speaking, his mind threatened to break with each passing word. Grabbing his head in his hands finally, his mask shattered for a brief instant. The torment in his mind shown brightly upon his face. Shutting his eyes tightly, he grabbed hold of his head hoping it would not burst.

He refused to let the tears come. The rage he fought down furiously. He would not do that to Jada again. He couldn't. She had been so kind. When she asked what she could do for him his eyes searched for hers and begged her to understand and to not hate him for what he was about to ask.

"Please." His voice begged in a whisper. "Please just leave me alone."

With every bit of will-power he had left, he screamed in his own mind and shoved his torment down again. The mask this time was much harder to put back into place. When he felt 'secure' he dropped his hands from his head and rested them upon his knees as he sat there with his eyes lowered and his head looking down at his bear feet. The obvious torment that had shown so clearly upon his face a moment before could no longer be seen.

He sighed. Everything would be okay.

It was easy enough to reply to the sadness in his tone and in his voice. "Take another drink of that fruit juice for me. I'll leave a meat roll right here." Jada had talked to him enough for one day, she thought. And with her luck, she'd probably done more harm than good.

Carefully, she wrapped the meat roll in one of the clean, plain white kerchiefs that she had in the bottom of the basket to keep crumbs from getting everywhere. She sat a piece of fruit next to the roll, and filled the drink a bit higher, about halfway to the top.

"I hope you feel better." she told him, and meant it. "I hardly have anything useful to do, just classes and spending time with Krypth. If you want to talk again... I can come spend some time with you. I won't even preach at you next time." She tried to keep the puppy-dog hope out of her voice, and stepped backwards, away from the bed. And then she turned, moving for the door of the room and opening it wordlessly, slipping outside, shutting him inside firmly.