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Entry Two - The Traitor

It had been a long day in a series of long days, and it seemed that there was no end in sight. Trine might have an overabundance of dragons and a dearth of resources, thanks to refugees from Malvren and Benden fleeing the wherholds, but as far as V’ell was concerned that just meant too many bronzes and silvers and crimsons and browns butting heads in one place.

No offense to D’ei’s brown, of course. But it wasn’t exactly easy, for a mere greenrider of no rank and no particular connections to even be heard over the clamor.

Eyes half-closed, she pulled her flight jacket off over her head, letting her feet and muscle memory guide her unfailingly towards the bed furs she now shared with D’ei. (She hardly ever thought of Shiza these days - and when she did, it was in ironic praise of the bluerider’s taste, if not her judgement.) The jacket was discarded, followed by the shirt, leaving her in just her breastband and trousers, and V’ell sprawled back onto the bed with none of her usual grace. Only a slightly guilty duck of her head betrayed her: today had been yet another vicious row with her wingleader, and while there wasn’t really anywhere to demote V’ell to, they weren’t going to tolerate her behavior forever.

“D’ei, I’ve been thinking.” Her voice was soft, unusually subdued. V’ell didn’t communicate gently. She was loud. Strident. If she was bothering to consult her weyrmate’s opinion, then it was something she was genuinely conflicted over.

Lycath alerted her to the oncoming weyrmate before V’ell made it inside. The revolution made the brown paranoid when it came to the greenriding pair, his eyes ever watchful on the skies until they safely landed. Sleep rarely came though whether from the sticky heat or nightmares was anyone’s guess. D’ei hated Trine. Three weyrs came into one after the revolution and that meant they worked side by side with those from Benden. She found them too much like High Reaches people and disliked their /looks/, how they treated V’ell. At least she had a brown. That almost made her something of worth.

“Always a dangerous hobby for you.” D’ei groaned into her pillow, half awake from her dragons call. She reached for the small covered basket of glows near to their furs, pulling back enough of the cloth to give the room a dim glow. When V’ell decided to be serious, D’ei found the best thing to do was leave the snarky comments to one out of ten. She slid back under the furs, reaching for V’ell’s hand and foot moving out to nudge her mates. “Whose ankle do I need to chew off in the morning?”

“No one’s.” V’ell propped herself up on her elbows, then leaned over and pressed a fond kiss to D’ei’s forehead. “But... I got a note by firelizard. From Ellodan.” V’ell had left her big brother behind at Malvren; Ellodan had Ellosk, and that meant that he was safer and happier there than he would ever be at Trine. One of the unintended side effects of the Revolution, that wherhandlers would never be trusted again outside of their wherholds.

She pulled back, looked D’ei in the eye so that she would know how serious V’ell was about this. “He wants me to come home. Us to come home.”

She smiled, faint and still tired. It took the barest of efforts to wedge herself up against an unusually gentle V’ell. The smile died quickly enough, her hand drawing back to toy with the edge of one of their furs. She rubbed hard with her thumbnail, frowning. It took a minute for her to be able to meet V’ell’s eyes, her body tense.

“I’m glad he’s okay.” D’ei took a slow breath. She liked Ellodan and him asking for them even now struck a chord in the Weyrbrat. Growing up without a family poked at her when one worried about her, about them. “We didn’t fight on their side. They attacked an unprepared Weyr, I killed them. That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

V’ell shrugged, uncomfortable with the memories. The wher attack had been... sudden. Vicious. Unexpected. They’d defended themselves because what else were you going to do, when someone came at you like that? Now she was wondering what would have happened if she’d gone against her every instinct and just surrendered then. “Things are different now. They’ve settled down. They’ll still need riders to fight Thread. And we’d have someone inside to vouch for us... It can’t be worse than staying here.”

“They need riders after they cut us down for being oppressive.” D’ei pulled her knees to her chest, defensive. A muscle on her jaw twitched, chin tucked between the dip of her knees. “You really want to go and stay with murderers? If they thought nothing about cutting down innocent people, then what’s going to stop them from doing the same to you? Nothing is changed. At least here they aren’t trying to kill us. Yell and be total prats, yes, but no one is trying to slit my throat.”

The greenrider recoiled slightly, as if stung, and disentangled herself from both D’ei and the furs to put some distance between them. “So some of them are dangerous. They’re not all like that. Dan’s not like that. You know he’s not. And I wouldn’t exactly call most of Benden innocent.” There was heat in her voice now, and a long-held bitterness.

D’ei rubbed hard at her face. The furs rustled as both riders moved away, D’ei kicking them off completely once V’ell moved away. “I didn’t say they were innocent and I know Dan isn’t that. He’s a good man, and Ellosk a good wher. That doesn’t mean they can protect us when - if we go there. We’re dragonriders, we protect our Weyr, we don’t join up with people like--” She stopped. Dan was one of those people. She couldn’t talk about him like that. D’ei tipped her head back with a low growl. The grey and grey morality of it irritated her far more than V'ell. She'd not soon miss Benden but... “Shaffit.”

V’ell shook her head. “The more I think about it, the less I blame them for what they did. They wanted change. They got what they wanted. And yes, it was bloody, but - you know what the more traditional riders are like. What they’ve said and done to you.” In some ways, V’ell had it easier. She was at the bottom of the totem pole, but at least she wasn’t a female brownrider - viewed by some as an upstart, a woman pretending at a man’s role. “When someone else has all the power, sometimes you can’t just sit down politely at the table and ask them to share.”

The barb struck home, intentional or not. D'ei flinched. She stepped to the other side of the furs, feet cold despite the warm temperature in the weyr. Hands rubbed on her thighs in barely repressed upset, lips pursed tight, D'ei taking her time to answer.

"That's why I can't run off to the Revolutionists, V'ell. How many of us are there? I know of one more and it'd just prove everything they've said about me to be right. I want you and to be a good 'rider...This would just throw that last part out the window. I've worked too hard for that."

“I know you’ve worked hard. Twice as hard as you should have had to - you’ve proven yourself far too many times over and they still don’t respect you.” She pressed on, heedless of D’ei’s growing discomfort. When V’ell got on a subject, it was like a wher with a piece of rawhide: she wouldn’t let go until she’d worried it to death. “That’s why we should go together. Nothing’s going to change here, they’ve proven that. They’re just going to dig their heels in twice as hard as ever to hold onto the ‘old ways’ - even the ones that were never worth holding on to.”

She stepped closer, reaching out to pull D’ei into an embrace. “We can start over. Build a new life.”

Discomfort and impotent frustration easily warped itself to anger with D'ei. Her expression shifted from irritated to stony the more V'ell talked, her strong shoulders hunching to make her appear even smaller then before. V'ell stepped closer, opened her arms, and even Lycath's attempt to calm couldn't stop the final break in D'ei's temper

She pushed V'ell's arms from her for the first time in their relationship and stepped back again. Her words were rough, angry, hurt. "We've already started a new life! They killed our friends and made us run like cornered tunnelsnakes."

'I won't be twice a coward'. She didn't say that. It'd be calling V'ell a coward as well and d'ei couldn't do that.

V’ell stepped back, and she was silent for a few heartbeats. Then she turned away. “It’s your choice, D’ei. I can’t make you leave. But I can’t sit here and wait for them to throw me out, either. I’m going, and I wanted you to come with me.”

"Please don't do this," Apparently begging did not wound D'ei's pride in the same way running would. She didnt move from her spot even when V'ell turned from her, her arms rigid by her side, eyes trained on her lovers back. "Not after everything. Don’t go back to them."

Zarth, on the weyrledge, keened and pressed closer to her brown mate, eyes yellow and grey. V’ell was unmoved. “I hate that it has to be like this. But I’d rather you get the chance to remember me as the one who ran away, rather than the one you had to abandon when I grew too bitter for you to tolerate.” She reached for her shirt, tugged it back on. Then the flight jacket.

Lycath pushed his head against his mate's crooning attempts of comfort. He curled closer, as if cuddling would keep their riders from parting ways.

D'ei, talk to her. We can go-

I will not be the weak female brownrider that abandoned her Weyr just because of some treatment.

Instead she became the weak brownrider that watched in silence as her weyrmate dressed. Only when V'ell had finished, ready to go, did she bury her face in her hands in the middle of their room.

“Be safe, D’ei. Love you.” And then she swung aboard Zarth’s neck with no further preparation. If they were going to make it, it needed to be swift and unexpected. The green warbled to her mate - I’m sorry. I will mindspeak to you, when we get there. For as long as I remember. Then she unfurled her wings and took off into the sky.

((RESERVED))