L'thor and green Raith's weyr

[TawnyAngel]

~Welcome to L'thor and Raith's weyr~



L’thor’s weyr is about half way up the crater on the eastern-facing side. It is a relatively large weyr, and boasts two raised stone couches that would comfortably sleep even a large bronze. Both couches are covered in a thick layer of sand that looks to have been freshly smoothed. As well as spots for two dragons to sleep, there are two beds in the weyr set on opposite sides of the room. One of them is fairly simple, having a few furs and a pillow, but the others is covered in sumptuous looking furs and about three more pillows than any one person could possibly need. Both beds are neatly made. Set into the wall beside the simple bed is a mid-sized hearth. It is currently unlit, but is well swept and made ready for its next use.

The rest of the furniture consists of a sturdy table set towards the front of the weyr and two simple wooden chairs. The table has an empty pitcher on it that probably once contained klah, and a few pieces of harness that seem to be under repair. Against the back wall there is a large closet, currently closed, with a wooden chest either side of it. Presumably these house the occupants’ clothes and possessions respectively. About midway along the back wall of the weyr there is an entranceway that leads into a small bathing room. It has its own pool, albeit a modest sized one, and the water in it is warm and clear.

Overall, you get the impression that whoever lives here quite likes his things in order; you probably shouldn't move anything around.

 

[TawnyAngel]

~Directory~

1: Welcome to the weyr
2: Directory
3: The rider
4: The dragon
5: History
6: Writings
7: The flitts
8: Acquaintances
9: Encounters
10: Journal

 

[TawnyAngel]

~The Rider~

Basics

Rider name: L’thor
Given name: Lunthor
Age: 27 turns
Sex: Male
Orientation: 6 (homosexual)
Rank: Wingrider


Appearance

Height: 5'10"
Build: Lithe, slender
Approx weight: 10 stone
Hair: Mid-chestnut brown, wavy, slightly past shoulders
Eyes: Grey
Skin: Light olive, tans easily
Face: Sharp featured, noticable high cheekbones
Detailed appearance: L’thor is tall, light olive skinned and lithely muscled with a sharp, high-cheekboned face that is on the pretty side or reasonably handsome. His hair is slightly past shoulder length, mid-chestnut brown and slightly wavy, going some little way to soften his pointy features when it isn’t tied back in a practical braid. According to him, cutting it short simply isn't an option; his vanity wouldn’t suffer it. His eyes are grey, piercing, and usually alight with one powerful emotion or another. When not in his riding gear, he prefers comfortably but elegantly cut clothes in muted tones; his personality is vibrant enough that he doesn’t need his clothes to shout for him. Two things he is never without are a simple knotted leather bracelet with two tassels, each ending in a green bead, and a copper bangle. They were gifts from his former weyrmate, and from his best friend respectively.


Relationships

Parents: Loria (45) and Dunter (46)
Siblings: Sarcia (F, 29), Norn (M, 27), Luanai (F, 22), Ortho (M, 16)
Other notable family: Califer (Uncle, 52)
Significant other: D’los (Dephalos, died 23)
Significant friends: V’kain (Vannkain, 26)


Personality

Likes: Handsome men, pretty men, wine, banter, dancing, music, good food, klah, papering Raith, flying (especially fast)
Dislikes: Boredom, lazy people, stupid people, stuck up bronze riders, children
Quote: "That man has a tail-fork where his mouth should be, balls where his brain should be, and where his balls should be there's blackest between."
Character tracks: Rocked up he’s a pirate (or rather a dragonrider XD), It’s my life

Extended personality: L’thor is witty, often cuttingly so, observant, passionate, proud and often somewhat vain. Calm is a word that can seldom be attached to him without a negative in the sentence as well. Quick to laugh and quick to anger over even the smallest matters, he has both many friends (who he loves dearly) and many enemies (who he hates with equal intensity); he seldom feels neutral about anyone he knows more than in passing. He is extremely confident in himself, extremely proud and perhaps a little more outspoken than he ought to be, but seldom outright disrespectful of his superiors (in their presence at any rate.) While on duty he can be counted on to follow orders and keep his witticisms internal, but under other circumstances he often can’t resist the urge to make a cutting remark or two when told to do something he considers stupid, pointless or demeaning.

He is a very stubborn person, and once he has decided to do something he tends to do it even if he knows it isn’t very sensible. Similarly, though he usually knows when it would be sensible to back down from a confrontation he often does not, which has got him into varying degrees of trouble over the turns. However, his stubbornness also leads him to stick firmly by his friends and makes him determined to carry out his duties no matter what.

Despite his confidence and gregarious nature, he gives away little about himself save to those he knows best. This is not because he has great traumas to hide or because he is ashamed of anything he has ever done, but because he doesn’t like the idea of someone who could become an enemy knowing anything personal about him at all. Until he considers someone a true friend, he does his best to turn probing questions about himself aside, or proceeds to spin a wonderfully exciting answer that even a watch-wher could tell was entirely contrived.

In his free time L'thor loves to socialize, pamper his dragon Raith, and go flying with her. The pair of them are thrill seekers in the air, and love nothing better than steep dives, sharp turns and barrel rolls. He has little use for just lazing about (save in bed with company) and bores very easily if he has nothing to do.  

[TawnyAngel]

~The Dragon~

Basics

Name: Raith
Age: 12 turns
Colour: Green


Appearance

Length: 22’9”
Height: 7’5” to the shoulder
Build: Very slender
Detailed appearance: Raith is predominantly a rich leaf green colour, speckled with a variety darker shades. The speckling is most heavily concentrated along her spine, and her neck ridges are completely covered in specks giving a mottled effect on them. The speckling becomes sparser down her body; there are few specks on her feet. Her underside, wing membranes, and the insides of her legs are not specked at all. She is around average length for a green, very slender, and her claws are black.


Relationships

Mother:
Sire:
Significant friends: Xerrineth (Looks to V’kain)


Personality

Likes: Handsome males, sleeping in the sun, being pampered, tender herdbeats, flying (especially fast)
Dislikes: Itchy skin, cold weather, people who insult or hurt her rider, people who insult her appearance, pushy males
Quote: "Or you could not punch him, and save us both getting assigned late watch for a sevenday."
Character tracks: Moondance

Extended personality: Raith is as calm and patient as her rider is passionate and hot-tempered. She can often restrain him from doing anything truly stupid, and does her best to placate the dragons of those her rider insists on antagonizing. She also balances L’thor’s tendency to make whimsical snap decisions, calling for her friend to think twice about slapping the wingleader’s backside appreciatively or turning up for a dressing down naked after having his clothes insulted.

This said, Raith does share her rider’s tendency to feel very strongly about people one way or another; she’s just a lot better at not acting on her negative feelings and keeping them to herself. In addition, when she doesn't see any harm in it, she enjoys listening to her rider throw quips at people, though she prefers the light-hearted comments L'thor shoots at his friends to the acid comments he spits at his foes.

Raith is of a kind and gentle disposition, willing to accept fuss from almost anyone and, starkly unlike her rider, quite fond of children. She loves being pampered, and L'thor spends about as much time washing, scrubbing and oiling her as a gold rider might spend on their mount, though this is as much for his enjoyment as her own. Much like her rider she is very proud of her appearance, and insulting it is one of the few things that can really raise her ire. When she isn't being made a fuss of, Raith would prefer to either be lounging in the sun or streaking through the sky at breakneck speed with her rider.  

[TawnyAngel]

~History~

Lunthor is a trader’s son and spent his childhood traveling from hold to hold with his extended family. His only worries as a boy were keeping up with his share of the chores and trudging through bad weather over bad ground. His friends were his siblings and cousins, but thanks to his quick wit he was able to make temporary friends wherever he went. Late in his fourteenth turn, Lunthor and his family were traveling along the coast when his youngest sister found a nest of flit eggs that seemed to have been abandoned. Intending to trade them at the next hold, his uncle the leader of their caravan took the clutch but they hatched before they arrived. Lunthor, who was on watch at the time, impressed a pair of blues out of the predominantly green clutch, and the quicker members of his family managed to impress a hatching or two for themselves as well.

At the age of fifteen, he was Searched by a rider from Ista Weyr. His family were proud to let him go, although more than a little worried given that he would be an adult rider when the Thread came if he successfully Impressed. Lunthor never looked back for a moment; though he loved his family and would miss them, he like many boys had always dreamed of being Searched. He saw it as his duty and his privilege to go with the rider and do his best to Impress a hatching. When the eggs hatched however, he was not one of those chosen by a dragon.

Being the proud confident boy that he was, Lunthor decided that he would stay on at the Weyr and try again next time there was a clutch; clearly none of the hatchlings in that clutch had been meant for him. His perseverance was rewarded when he stood for another Impression; the third egg to hatch of the clutch was a green, and she came straight to him. The young dragon’s name was Raith and Lunthor, or L'thor as he became, was certain he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

L'thor went on to be a competent weyrling, but often found himself in trouble for talking back to the werylingmaster. He was not at all put off by the punishment duties he was assigned, though he did complain eloquently about them when given the chance. During the first weeks of his werylinghood, he noticed an attractive boy of about his own age named D’los who had also Impressed a green. He befriended D’los and, the two got along excellently; D’los’ sweet gentle nature balanced L’thor’s extreme moods perfectly, and by the time their dragons were half grown they were a couple. They became weyrmates as soon as they were assigned to their adult wings.

Life passed fairly uneventfully for L’thor until he was twenty four turns old. That changed during a drill of D’los’ wing, when D’los and a newly graduated brown rider collided in mid air. The brown rider and both dragons died soon after the accident, but D’los survived long enough to make his weyrmate promise to fight the Thread for him too when it came. Though he was devastated by the loss, having that promise to keep to his partner kept L’thor from true depression. As the overcrowding issues suffered by Ista Weyr were getting bad even then, a couple of sevendays after D’los' death he invited a close friend of his (V'kain) to move into the comfortable weyr the two of them had shared. Fortunately their dragons continued to get along we well as they ever had, and the arrangement worked out well.

Though he often still misses his weyrmate, L’thor is very much his sharp passionate self again. He is more dedicated to his duty than ever before, and is determined to excel at fighting the Thread when it comes.  

[TawnyAngel]

~Writings~

Lunthor’s first day at Ista Weyr
The morning after D’los’ death
Around half a turn after D’los’ death
Returning from the Veyes fiasco

 

[TawnyAngel]

~The Flitts~

Dusk is large for a blue, and a very lazy flit. He prefers sleeping in the sun to going around with L'thor, but he frequently pops up in search of some attention and some food. He has never missed a meal in his life, and doesn't intend to start any time soon. He is happy to accept fuss from anybody, and never gets too worked up about anything. The only thing that really seems to annoy him is people being noisy while he's trying to sleep.


River is smaller, more active and more excitable than his brother Dusk; he likes to be wherever L'thor is, and the green rider often has trouble shaking him off for drills and liaisons. He is a very curious little flit, having an unfortunate tendency to stick his nose where it shouldn't be, and to steal small unattended objects, which he then hides around L'thor's weyr. He enjoys causing havoc on L'thor's behalf, and will often swipe food from and zoom past the ears of people his human doesn't like.


Rust - River's get - is extroverted, willful and intelligent. He loves to explore, and has a quiet, engaging voice, though he seldom vocalizes. He is, however, very shy of strangers, and needs a great deal of attention from L'thor to keep him happy. He gets on well with other flitts once he knows them, but needs time to himself and will often vanish for a few hours if he is feeling too crowded. Though he is an explorer, he is sensible and doesn't take risks like his sire does.


Dancer is out to please everyone! He loves the sound of laughter and the sight of smiles, and will do all he can to get them, and some treats or petting if at all possible. He dances around and chirps endearingly whenever he spots someone who looks unhappy, bored, or lonely, and he doesn't like to leave them until they look happier. He is also a great lover of music, and if he is missing at meal times it's probably because he has become distracted by listening to a harper.  

[TawnyAngel]

~Acquaintances~

L'thor
L'thor says: Me? What can I say, I'm amazing.
Raith says: My lifemate! You are a preening, proud, passionate idiot. Naturally I love you very dearly, even when you're being contrary.

Raith
L'thor says: Ah, my calmer half. Where would I be without you? Probably long ago murdered by someone I pissed off just a little too much without you to restrain me.
Raith says: Me? Well, I like myself, of course I do. I'm laid back, fairly sensible most of the time and of course gorgeous.

V'kain
L'thor says: My best friend and weyr-buddy. He's sweet, gentle and patient; nothing like me basically. I know he'd do anything for me, and likewise I would do anything for him.
Raith says: I'm very fond of Xerrineth's rider; he's very good to L'thor, and a sweet person in his own right as well.

Kita
L'thor says: Nice young chap; tailor's apprentice. I like him, and he has a flitt too. I know where I'll be going for all my clothes from now on.
Raith says: Humm? I wasn't paying much attention to be honest.

Rynin
L'thor says: I've decided I like him, merely because he distracted me from my gloom.
Raith says: Well, in that case I like him too.

Veyes
L'thor says: I like him. How could I not after all that happened? He's a daft dreamer, but I don't see that in a bad light anymore. I thought he'd make an awful rider, that he was just plain stupid and... all that. It was just the day though, not him... I wish I could go back and give him a different first impression of me.
Raith says: I also like him. We went through a lot for him, but that is not his fault. He has a good heart, and took good care of me.

Nehren
L'thor says: Another Candidate I brought in, and another one I like. Sweet, slightly awkward boy.
Raith says: Nice and respectful of dragons; he'll make a good rider one day.

Conomor
L'thor says: Huum, well, he's a bit serious for my tastes but a decent sort. River and Dusk are rather obsessed with his gold flitt.
Raith says: Who?

Govind
L'thor says: I don't like him. He didn't really want to come to the Weyr, his family had to talk him into it. Egh.
Raith says: Oh, him? I was a bit underwhelmed too. Still, maybe he'll improve with time?  

[TawnyAngel]

~Encounters~

Flitts and sewing don’t mix.
After dinner chatting.
Follow the dream.
New beginnings.
Something fishy.
Introductions.
You’re taking my daughter where?
What to do on a sunny day
Try something different.
Smithy for hire
LICE!
Easiest search ever
Good end to a bad day
A day in the life
The gather
Somewhere outside Lemos
The snake hatching
The snake hatching feast
The horse hatching
Scouring the beach  

[TawnyAngel]

~Journal~

Flitts and sewing
After dinner chatting
Follow the dream
Follow the dream - Raith
New beginnings
Something fishy
Introductions
LICE!
Look!
Rust
The incident with the lake
Repucissions
Another one
Hopes after the hatching
Dancer
Gold eggs and green leaders
Beyond belief
Consequences
Unrequited love

 

[TawnyAngel]

Lunthor’s first day at Ista Weyr...

The dormitory left a little to be desired. A lot actually. As a trader’s son he was used to rough sleeping quarters, but he was also used to being able to pick where he slept in order to get a bit of personal space. Not here. Here he had a narrow bunk and a small chest for clothes and possessions to call his own, without even a curtain to draw across his tiny sleeping space. He was glad he hadn’t brought too much with him; a few spare sets of clothes plus washing and shaving gear almost filled the chest. He had no idea where Dusk and River were going to sleep. On top of him in all probability.

Pushing his fingers through his hair and sighing, Lunthor sat down on the edge of his bed and tried to look on the bright side. He had been Searched. He was a Candidate. In a few weeks, he might be a dragonrider. A high pitched chattering prompted him to look up and smile; his flits had finally stopped buzzing around the dragons and come to join him. He was glad he had them even if they were demanding and would make things even more cramped. They were a very real, lively, uplifting piece of home. He had friends here already, and that made life better.

“I’m afraid we find ourselves cramped together with other Candidates like pactails in a net,” he told the pair of blues as they flitted about investigating the large room. “You two will have to fight over who gets to sleep where on the bed,” he went on as Dusk concluded his investigation and flew over to land on the bunk. “I don’t doubt you’ll attempt to oust me to get comfortable,” he grumbled fondly as he stroked the dark blue flit’s head. Dusk looked up at him with whirling blue eyes and gave a contented cheep. Well, at least somebody was happy enough with the look of their living arrangements. River would probably be satisfied too, once he’d finished poking his nose into every available crevice. “Don’t you go stealing anything now you little horror,” he ordered the excitable flit sternly as he zoomed by on his way to the other side of the room. “Last thing I need to do is introduce myself to my fellow Candidates by returning something you’ve made off with.” River gave an unrepentant squeak, and Lunthor sighed again. “Ah well,” he murmured, “I suppose it’s as good an ice breaker as any really.”

Predictably, only a few moments later, River appeared in the air before him clutching a copper bangle in his forefeet. Lunthor sighed and relieved him of it; telling the daft creature to return what he had taken never met with any success. “You’re a terror,” he told the flit as he slipped the bangle onto his wrist, “I do hope whoever you took this from is a reasonable sort or I’ll end up with my face rearranged before I can hand it back and explain.” What was he supposed to do now anyway? He’d been told that somebody would be coming to find him to take him down to the dining hall but as yet there was no sign of them, and he’d been here long enough to neatly unpack everything and subsequently get bored. Not that getting bored took him very long.

Grumbling quietly to himself, Lunthor opened up the small wooden chest beside his bed and rummaged through until he found a small rag-ball. “Go on then,” he tossed it up in the air to catch River’s attention, “go fetch.” With these words, he hurled the ball away and watched his little friend streak over the ranks of beds after it. The agile flit caught it easily in mid air and pulled off a couple of neat loop-the-loops before wheeling about and flying back with the ball. Cheeping excitedly, he passed it back to Lunthor, who threw it again before looking down at Dusk, who was now dozing, with a sigh. “Between the two of you,” he informed the lazy creature, “you’d have relatively normal energy levels.” Dusk opened one eye to regard him steadily for a few moments before yawing massively and closing it again.

The game of fetch soon grew as dull as simply sitting around was, but seen as it was no worse Lunthor kept it up; River was enjoying himself, and if the blue managed to wear himself out he might be less of a pain later on. At least the waiting was giving him time to think, to compose himself after the flurry of activity that had been his day up until now. This morning he’d been just a trader’s boy, a middle son at that. Then the tiny hold they’d come to trade at had had become a frantic whirl as a green dragon appeared in the skies; a Search rider. He had been part of the small crowd of young people standing rigid as the dragon’s eyes ran over them, hoping against hope that he would be chosen. He was chosen, he alone. He’d got some pretty dirty looks for that, even from those of his siblings and cousins who were the right age. He hadn’t cared, they might as well not have existed while he ran to throw together his possessions. They’d all calmed down by the time he was ready to leave though and he’d parted with everyone on good terms...

That reminded him; he needed to send word to his family that he was well. Taking the ball away from River, who made a high-pitched noise of disappointment, he rummaged in the chest again and came out with a small piece of slate and chalk. ‘Dear all,’ he scribbled ‘arrived safe, waiting in dorm for further instructions. Will send next note soon.’ The last few words were cramped in tightly but still just about legible. “Here,” he held the little piece of slate out to River, who took it and increased the speed of his wingbeats to compensate for the weight. “Take this to the caravan,” he pictured the place his family was staying, and River cheeped confidently before vanishing between. Well that was that sorted then. And now he was bored again. Lunthor drummed his fingers irritably on the side of his bed and glared at the entrance to the dormitory.

After a few moments, he sprung to his feet and began to pace down the row of bunks; perhaps he would be able to tell something about his fellow Candidates from them. After only a few beds, he realised he was to be disappointed; all of them were neatly made, and all the chests were closed. There was nothing to tell the bunks apart other than the number stamped on the chests beside them. He had never imagined that anything in a Weyr could be so dull. River’s find of the copper bangle seemed more incredible the further he walked; there was simply nothing left lying around at all. There were a few cracks in the floor now and again, he supposed it must have been wedged into one of those. How was he supposed to live in a dreary place like this until the eggs hatched? Cursing softly under his breath, Lunthor turned around and stalked back to his bunk. He only recognized it because Dusk was asleep on it. Muttering to himself, he glared at the top of the wooden chest that held his worldly possessions and tried to burn the number on it into his mind. Forty two, forty two, forty two. Right, done. Now what?

Lacking anything else to do, he lay down on his bed and began to stroke Dusk’s flank. The contented crooning the flit made combined with the soft smooth feel of his skin went some way to cooling Lunthor’s temper. Someone would turn up for him in the end, and when they did he wasn’t going to be found stomping around like a petulant child. A few moments later, River reappeared with a happy squeak and a return note. Lunthor took it and scanned the message. ‘Good. All well here, all very proud, look forward to hearing from you.’ Brief and to the point; he felt better for receiving it. Sighing wearily, he slipped the slate under his pillow and settled back down as River curled up beside his brother. Given he had nothing better to do for the time being, he supposed he might as well follow his friends’ example. Shifting back on the bed slightly to give his flits some more space, Lunthor closed his eyes and proceeded to doze.

*****

A cheep from River awoke him, and Lunthor sat up abruptly to see a stocky boy of about his own age hovering uncertainly beside his bunk. River had sat up to regard the newcomer with interest, and the dark-skinned youth seemed to be debating whether or not to reach down and stroke the cheerful flit. “He’d appreciate some attention,” Lunthor said with a smile and he rubbed his face to awaken himself fully. “I’m Lunthor,” he went on, extending his hand in greeting, “glad to meet you.”

The black-haired boy beamed delightedly, reached down to tickle River under the chin with one hand and touched Lunthor’s palm with the other. “Glad to meet you too. I’m Vannkain, I’m supposed to be taking you down to the dining hall... I hope you’ve not been waiting too long; I got held up with some chores.”

“I’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting,” Lunthor replied with an amiable chuckle, “I was asleep, and now I’m famished. Shall we go?” There was something he immediately liked about the other boy’s warm, open face. Perhaps it was just an instinctive wish to make friends as fast as he could that drew him to that kind smile, but River seemed to approve of him and Dusk even bothered to open one eye and greet him with a sleepy cheep.

“Of course... I like you bracelet by the way,” Vannkain complimented with another warm smile, “it looks just like on I used to have.”

Lunthor laughed and, sliding it off his wrist, passed it over as he got to his feet. “Probably is yours,” he explained as River alighted on his shoulder, “this little terror found it somewhere in here when we arrived.”

Vannkain grinned and pushed it back. “Probably was mine then,” he said with a nod, “I did lose it last time I was a Candidate. You keep it though; it can be a welcome present.”

Well, that was a nice surprise. Lunthor smiled and put the bangle back on. Simple though it was, it was an attractive piece and he’d always been a sucker for presents of any kind. “Thank you Vannkain,” he said as they exited the dormitory, “I shall have to find something for you as well.”

Vannkain grinned and gave a slight shake of his head. “Just let me play with your flits sometimes and I’ll be happy; I’ve always loved flits.”

Lunthor snorted and rolled his eyes. “If you would, believe me, you’d be doing me a favour. This beast,” he jerked his head the the flit on his shoulder, “River’s his name, and like a river he never stops. Having somebody else to play with will please him no end, and might keep him from driving me to distraction.”

“I’d be happy to play with him,” the other boy replied enthusiastically, “anytime he wants to... Well, so long as I’m not doing chores. Possibly even if I am doing chores actually,” he admitted with a grin, “I’m sure I can juggle whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing and keeping him happy.”

Lunthor chuckled and grinned back. “I’m sure you’ll manage somehow Vannkain.”

“Please! Just call me Kain, the rest is such a mouthful,” Kain grinned. “One of the things I’d love most about being a rider would be shortening my name.”

“Well, Kain then,” Lunthor smiled, “and you can just call me Lun if you like.” As they walked on together, Lunthor felt himself feeling gradually more relaxed. He hadn’t been aware of the tension until it began to fade away. Glancing over at Kain, he smiled to himself again; the black-haired boy was watching River clean his wings in fascination. It was easy to relax, Lunthor supposed as he fingered his new bangle, when you’d found a good friend so quickly.  

[TawnyAngel]

The morning after D’los’ death...

Walking towards the serving hatch was... Indescribable. Almost every morning for the last nine turns he’d come here and now... and now it was different. Distant. He felt cold, and detached form the world around him. Nothing here had changed. Nothing significant anyway, so far as most were concerned. Almost every morning for the last nine turns he’d come here in company, and now he was alone. It was too big a thing to get his head around, too big a thing to have left the world unchanged. People were laughing with their friends, joking and shoving. Probably only a couple of them knew a rider had finally followed his dragon into death the previous night.

L’thor collected his usual breakfast in a daze. Porridge. Klah. Some fruit. A good start to the day. Balancing the plate, bowl and mug awkwardly, he turned to look for somewhere to sit. It seemed like an impossibly difficult decision. Not too many people were here yet so there was a lot of space... He saw a few friends, but they hadn’t spotted him yet and he made no effort to make himself conspicuous. He’d have to tell them. How could he tell them? None of them had really expected D’los to make it, but that didn’t mean he knew how he’d even begin breaking the news to them. He was usually so eloquent but now... now all words had abandoned him.

Eventually he decided on a spot; there was an almost empty bench over in one corner where he could sit alone. The idea of being in company was unbearable as yet. He had to... he had to decide what to say when someone asked him what was wrong. They would ask, anyone who knew him would ask as soon as they saw him. He’d seen his face in the mirror. Deathly pallid, deep dark circles under his eyes, which lacked their usual spark. He had to think of what to say, of how to explain. For now though, he just needed to eat his breakfast. He wasn’t hungry, he didn’t want it, but Raith wouldn’t let him be if he didn’t eat everything he’d taken. L’thor set off towards the quiet corner with legs of stone. Every step was a huge effort. Even every breath was a trial. It felt as though something was pressing down on his shoulders, clamping his chest tight.

As he walked, voices washed over him like waves.

“...dice tonight?”

“Yea, well she shouldn’t have said...”

“You’re awful!”

“Yea, finally snuffed it, I was at the infirmary last night to visit M’zan.”

L’thor came to an abrupt halt and turned to stare at the man who had spoken. A bronze rider, unranked by his shoulder knots. Had he really just...

“Shame about the brown,” the man went on, taking a sip of klah, “but at least the other was only a green.”

He wasn’t aware of dropping his breakfast, only of the clatter it made with it struck the stone floor. “What did you just say?” Only a green. He could feel the blood draining from his face. If he had been pallid before, he would be stark white now. Only a green.

The bronze rider turned around to regard him, suddenly looking rather flustered. “Oh! It’s you. You were his weyrmate... well, I only meant to say that a green is more expendable than a brown. You must admit that at least. Better a brown and a green gone than two browns.”

The world receded away from him with those words. Nothing existed anymore expect that man. That rider. That filth. “Get up.” Better a green dead than anything else. How could anyone think that, let alone say it? He hadn’t known D’los. He had no right to say anything at all on the matter, let alone to belittle the death of the man and his dragon. The bronze rider hadn’t moved. “I said get up.”

The rider just scowled. “Why should I?” he demanded. “I’m having my breakfast here. Life goes on, green rider, and you’d be well advised not to take a tone like that with a bronze rider.”

“Only a green rider!” He was shouting now and he knew it, didn’t care. This would not be suffered. That man would pay. “Get up and I’ll show you what a mere green rider can do!” He would tear him limb from limb. D’los was dead, and all that man could say was at least he’d only been a green rider. That man had never heard D’los laugh, had never seen his tender smile as he oiled his dragon, had never watched his face still and peaceful in sleep. He had no idea the kind of man whose death he had just passed off as insignificant when compared to the loss of a brown.

The bronze rider growled and got to his feet; he and L’thor were of a height, but he was far more muscular. “Just don’t start with me green rider,” he growled, “I wouldn’t want to have to hurt you.”

L’thor forgot that he didn’t know how to fight. Forgot that he was slender. Forgot that he was weak from three sleepless nights in a row and not having eaten since the previous morning. As the other early breakfasters watched, he gave an inhuman scream and launched himself at the bronze rider. He got a good few blows in, but the other man hardly seemed to notice them. The first strike in return was like a hammer against his temple. He ignored it. He ignored Raith’s shout inside his head. He ignored the next blow that split his lip, several against his chest, his stomach... And then another one cracked against his skull, and he stumbled. A kick sent him sprawling, and then he was kicked again, and again. He struggled to stand again, but every time he nearly got to his knees he was knocked down again. He had to show him. He had to prove what greens were worth. D’los. How dare anyone speak like that about D’los? He wouldn’t let it go unpunished. D’los was dead!

Then the bronze rider’s boot connected with his head, and the world became a lot less clear. He was aware of people shouting, some shouting his name. Then there was high pitched screeching, and the bronze rider yelling in pain and anger. Dusk and River had come to rescue him. Then a dragon roared, and the dining hall went still, allowing a furious female voice to shout... to shout... something. He’d failed. He’d proved nothing and... D’los was dead. D’los. He was alone. Darkness descended, sound faded, and he knew no more.

*****

He awoke slowly, sluggishly. Everything hurt, and he couldn’t quite work out why that could be. Moaning softly, L’thor forced himself to open his eyes. He was not in his weyr. He was in the infirmary. Why was he?... Oh. That rider. The bronze rider. Only a green. He’d got beaten to a pulp. Humiliated himself. D’los was dead. A concerned croon caught his attention and he turned his head to see Dusk regarding him with yellowish eyes. He didn’t have the energy to reassure his little friend right now... and where was River? A moment later, his question was answered when the flit appeared beside his brother and lent forward to nuzzle him, joining in with the unhappy creeling. They’d rescued him. The rider would probably have got a few more kicks in if they hadn’t arrived. Might have killed him. He’d have to remember to find them both some really nice treats once he was back on his feet.

“We’ve all been worried about you,” his dragon’s voice said gently a moment later, “I’ll tell them you’re going to be alright though. I do wish you hadn’t been so foolish,” the green added, “but I understand. I wished I could do something about him and that bronze of his as well. The rider had no right to speak as he did, and Royaneth was wrong to support him. Both of them have been reprimanded now but it hardly makes a difference, does it?”

All he could do was send a feeling of assent to Raith as beside him Dusk and River calmed somewhat. What difference did punishment duties make? What had been said had been said, there was no taking back or making up for those words. He would recall them to the end of his days, and despise the man who had uttered them no matter what. ...What was the rider’s name anyway?

“I don’t know,” Raith responded, “and I’m not speaking to Royaneth to find out. Ask Xerrineth’s rider; I told him as soon as you woke and he’s coming to see you right now.”

V’kain was coming. L’thor closed his eyes and felt a stab of pain in his chest that had nothing to do with damaged ribs. By now, V’kain would know. He couldn’t imagine how his sweet-natured friend was taking it, and then he’d been foolish enough to get himself beaten badly enough to be put in the infirmary on top of it. He could feel tears trying to well up in his eyes, but he bit them back stubbornly, ignoring how tensing up to keep control hurt. He couldn’t cry, not now. He wasn’t the crying sort anyway; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried anything save tears of laughter.

“Thor!”

He swallowed and opened his eyes; V’kain had just ducked through the curtain that split his bed off from the infirmary at large, an expression of fatigued worry etched onto his face. A healer hovered behind the muscular man for a few moments, frowning faintly but after a few moments he shrugged and stepped back, twitching the curtain fully into place once more. As his friend moved to sit on the chair beside his bed, L’thor scowled. He was moving very stiffly and one eye was swollen shut. A few moments more allowed him to take in the discoloration of the bruise; it hadn’t been immediately obvious on V’kain’s deep brown skin.

“Thor?” V’kain reached out to take his hand gently. “Are you... I mean... How are you?”

He tried to put on a smile, but on feeling the tug of a scab on his lower lip he winced and gave up the effort. “I’ve been better,” he said, wondering at the dull lifelessness of his voice. He didn’t sound like himself at all. “What’s the name of Royaneth’s rider?” It would be a lot easier to concentrate the considerable force of his hatred and venom if he had a name to keep in mind. Only a green rider. The man had no idea, no idea at all. D’los had been worth a thousand or that man; more than a thousand. D’los was gone, and a man like that still lived and ate his breakfast and classed the worth of others on the colour of their dragon.

“It’s T’lus,” V’kain replied, his voice and expression uncharacteristically dark. “Don’t you worry, I found him at dinner at sorted him out. He’ll remember his stupidity every time someone stares at the gap where his front tooth was.”

“So, that’s how you got the black eye then... Thank you.” Knowing the man would be forever marked for his words was a lot more satisfying than knowing he’d have punishment duties for a few sevendays. “You in much trouble Kain?” He hoped not. His friend had never put a toe out of line before in his life, he was good and obedient and as gentle as D’los had been. It took a lot to rouse him to violence, an awful lot. He’d only seen it once before... it had been on his behalf again, against a bronze rider again; the rider who had won Raith’s first flight. When her skin was dry he could still feel the scars on her shoulders.

V’kain smiled slightly and squeezed L’thor’s hand as he shook his head. “Not too much. Late watch for a sevenday starting tomorrow, I was let off quite lightly. T’lus on the other hand got grounded for a sevenday for what he said, another for what he did to you and then another for trying to stab me when we were fighting. He’ll never make so much as wingsecond now bronze or no bronze... Thor... I...” He trailed off and lowered his eyes. “D’los is being taken between tomorrow at sunrise,” he went on eventually. “The healers have agreed to let you go, so I’ll turn up a while before to help you get ready.”

“...Thank you.” He closed his eyes again and tried not to think about the future. “So... So you said you gave T’lus what he had coming over dinner,” he said, opening his eyes again and fighting to keep his voice steady. His breathing was becoming a bit shaky, and that hurt. Another reason not to cry. “What time is it now then?” Anything to change the subject. Not that it would matter much; they’d both still be thinking about it.

V’kain looked away as tears welled up in his deep brown eyes. “It’s very late,” he croaked eventually, “but I was still awake when Raith told me you’d come round. Couldn’t sleep.”

He understood that. He felt like he’d never sleep again. How could he go back to the bed he’d shared with his weyrmate for so many turns and sleep alone? How could he even stand to be in their weyr? He dreaded it. Taking a deep shaky breath that made his ribs flare with pain, he reached out for the comfort of his dragon’s mind.

“I am always here for you,” the green told him softly, her mental tones heavy with pain for him and yet still full of warmth and love. “I will see you through this L’thorMine, I swear I will.”

The gentleness in her mental tones almost broke him, but he clung stubbornly onto his self-control. “Thank you Raith. Thank you.” He doubted he’d ever learn how to cope without her. He and D’los would have stayed together forever, he was sure of it. They had been perfect together. No arguments, because D’los never argued with anyone; he just left the room when things got too heated and that was perfect. So perfect. It had always annoyed him before, but now it was perfect. Because D’los had never allowed them to shout at one another, he had never said anything truly hateful to his weyrmate. Why had it frustrated him before? Who cared if yelling would have made him feel better at the time? D’los had been perfect in every way, even in the ways that he was imperfect; too quiet, never really voicing an opinion, never standing up for himself, messy, a terrible snorer. It was all perfect, all of it, everything he had been. Now because of some stupid young brown rider who thought he was too good to take orders, D’los was gone. His beautiful dreamer. Why had they taken him away?

“Excuse me,” a soft voice called from outside the curtain, and a moment later the healer who had lingered behind V’kain appeared holding a cup. “Fellis,” he said with a nod, passing it to V’kain. “You,” he looked at L’thor sternly but not unkindly, “drink all of it; it’ll have you sleeping until dawn. You,” he turned his attention back to V’kain, “come and see me once he’s asleep and I’ll give you something for that eye to take the swelling down.” Giving the two riders a nod, the healer slipped discreetly away once more, leaving them in peace.

V’kian sniffed suspiciously at the concoction in his hand and wrinkled his nose slightly. “This is going to taste horrible. At least it’ll send you to sleep I suppose.”

“Mmm,” L’thor extended a hand towards the cup, wincing at the pain this movement caused, “I don’t care how it tastes. I just don’t want to hurt.” Not a lot the stuff would do about the worst of his pain, but maybe if he slept he would dream of good times. He drained the cup and passed it back with a sigh. “Thank you,” he murmured, feeling his eyelids begin to get heavy even as V’kain set the cup aside. “... Kain?”

“Yes?”

“Stay. Please.” He didn’t want to be alone. It all hurt too much.

Gentle hands closed around his own once more and squeezed softly. “I won’t. I’m here. Sleep Thor, I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

He just about managed to make a noise of assent to that before sleep claimed him. He did not find the good dreams he had hoped for, but when he awoke V’kain was still there and so was Raith’s presence in his mind. Rousing himself from bed was painful in every possible way, but as he sat outside and watched his best friend take his weyrmate to the last resting place of all riders a small part of him looked into the newly rising sun and knew it would pass. For now it all seemed too much to bear, but he did not have to bear it alone. He would survive.