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 Posted: Mon Dec 13, 2010 2:42 pm
J'aro knew his combat skills, that he did. But he wasn't a violent man, and he wouldn't have struck F'sey no matter how much he wanted to or how very much he deserved it. Anyone who treated their dragon this way deserved it.
Except him. Whiteriders were different. They were special in a bad kind of way. That's what he thought, what he might die thinking, and what he was thinking standing in the holding cell listening to this... this... this nonsense. Complete nonsense!
"The greens do get chased, but who chases them? The blues. The purples. The reds. The browns. The bronzes. How are they any superior to you based off something that stupid? To even judge yourself based on flight issues -- for Farnath's sake, F'sey --" J'aro took a second to gather himself "For Farnath's sake, are you Holdborn? I'd expect this from that boy, but..." He shook his head, heaving a sigh. "I'm sure they heard you. You're a loud man. But why respect a rider that doesn't respect his dragon?"
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Posted: Mon Dec 13, 2010 2:56 pm
"I still respect her, as an individual." When you took color out of the equation, Ialluth wasn't so bad. She did as she was told, and stayed out of the way when she should. It didn't stop F'sey from wondering, however, what he could have been, if given have a chance. But he'd Impressed a green, and the man had spent a lifetime wondering why he was denied so much as a chance at anything beyond a lifetime of mediocrity. J'aro was asking the wrong question.
Why bother respecting a rider who did not respect himself?
As cold and ruthless as he could be, F'sey was, and had always been, the harshest with himself.
"I was bred in a Weyr. A Weyr might be more open-minded than a Hold, but that doesn't mean they aren't deep-rooted in their own traditions. I was still assigned to a role." Perhaps he should be grateful he had a role at all, something nagged. "But what good is it, really, in the end? Ialluth and I play no great role in anyone's life." He did what he could, but in the end, those weyrlings he watched over belonged to their Wingleaders. Perhaps some would become Wingleaders themselves, and make their own decisions. Honestly, how many would reflect back to lessons, and use what that violent old man had taught them?
None.
One greenrider blended into another, there were just so many. At the end of the day, F'sey wouldn't even be a footnote in the history of the Weyr. In fact, with a bronzerider missing, it was unlikely anyone was aware a greenrider was gone as well. (Was it selfish, to want to be missed? It probably was.)
It was then F'sey realized he was at a loss for something to say. He knew he was being ungrateful, conceited, and he still could not help it. J'aro was preaching, and to what end? To try and change how F'sey had felt for the last twenty-three turns? To what end?
Damnit. He'd gotten derailed, again. (J'aro was proving to be exceptional at that.)
"What do you want from me? Shall I go out and declare how much I love being a greenrider, how much I adore being looked down on for something I have no control over? Would that make you feel better?"
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Posted: Mon Dec 13, 2010 3:20 pm
Without those footsteps outside, all was quiet.
All but J'aro's mind. He thought that, yes, that would make him overjoyed if F'sey said it. But only if he meant it. Having been born on this island, color bias was still hard for him to accept. A green Wingleader wasn't common, but if a green was capable than he fully expected them to be given the job. Green, bronze, any color of the rainbow that might crop up. It didn't matter; if they could do the job, they deserved it. Fair was fair.
He hadn't skipped class the day they taught that all too important lesson life wasn't always fair. He listened. He heard. But J'aro wouldn't just stand on the sidelines and pretend he didn't think most of the injustice on Pern was thanks to the people living there; often, people who would themselves complain about it, yet do nothing to change it.
"But it's not fair!" J'aro had wailed at his foster guardian, that poor old harper woman whom had loved him dearly but never expected the boy to become so lively. "They're dragons, too!"
Idiot.
All he'd wanted to do was catch a white and show that they were not all bad. Something was wrong with them -- he'd never denied that -- but there just had to be more to it. He couldn't resist the temptation and the hope. Surely, he could Impress one and prove to everyone there was hope. He wanted them to feel it, too.
He wanted justice. Fairness. Equality.
What he'd wanted was unreachable, childish, but if he couldn't save the whites...
"B'lin's still afraid of riding."
If he couldn't uplift to the reputation of the whites to greater heights than thought possible, then maybe...
"Until he considers himself capable, no matter what color he has, I'm making Ialluth Wingleader."
Maybe he could help the greens.
J'aro didn't want to die an old man who never helped anyone.
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Posted: Mon Dec 13, 2010 3:33 pm
"You can't do that."
F'sey's mind came to a screeching halt. His thought process was no longer a runaway train, but a smoking heap of scrap metal at the bottom of a canyon having been derailed from a very narrow track. For a moment, it was all the man could do to remember to keep breathing and not lose it entirely.
"You can't do that," the greenrider repeated, mind unable to supply anything more productive to argue. Shaking his head, F'sey ran a hand between his red hair and tried to compose himself. "You can't do that. She'd never last an entire Fall." That wasn't bias, that was only truth. As much as he hated the bias, there was a reason behind it. (Supposedly.)
"Enough. I don't take handouts, J'aro. I'm not going to be a Wingleader because you feel bad for me, for my dragon. Not when we've done nothing to deserve a rank." As good as it felt to punch the Whitemaster, that was not the sort of thing one did to make good impressions. "Ialluth and I are not fit to be Wingleader."
But don't you w-
More than anything.
Then shouldn't you-
But Ialluth did not finish her question, she could already feel the wall F'sey was starting to build and the dragon sighed. Foolish boy, so hard on himself.
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Posted: Mon Dec 13, 2010 3:45 pm
J'aro was a man of emotion in a position of power that demanded logic. His ability to argue most people into submission was evidence enough there were fierce reasoning skills under that thick skull somewhere. Sesabal had more power than him and so he'd lost their battle, but in the war? J'aro felt sure he'd win if only he could find the cruel side of him and rouse it enough to do so. (Selfless as he was, he still had malice. Everyone did.)
This was not proper of him. He should have considered so many factors; Ialluth's stamina and F'sey's personality may or may not have been fitting. The loyalty to his new idea was less for the ones involved and much more for the idea itself. It was for his hope. That word again.
"Yes, I can," J'aro said. "Ialluth is Wingleader until I feel B'lin is ready. As for Thread... Who says it will ever come back? Or come back in our lifetime?" He rattled the bars loudly. "Guards!"
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Posted: Mon Dec 13, 2010 3:57 pm
"You're being careless. And stupid." Surprise, surprise.
"I am telling you this for the last time, Ialluth is not going to be made Wingleader on some whim. No handouts, J'aro. We've done nothing to earn it, you don't even know us beyond whatever you seem to imagine us to be. I'm forty-three, she's green, you're an idiot." F'sey rubbed his palm against his face. "Are you listening? I won't take this offer. I won't be bound to you for some favor I didn't even want."
But you do want it. Maybe he can sense that.
"We didn't earn it, J'aro. I won't take this away from B'lin." It was the boy's dream, wasn't it?
Who's to say we didn't earn it? Maybe we have.
Enough, Ialluth. We didn't. I've been nothing but a-
A spoiled brat?
Yes. That. Now, be quiet. I cannot take something I don't deserve.
What do we have to do, Mine, to deserve it, then?
To that, F'sey did not have answer, so instead, he watched J'aro call for his guards and he shook his head. "I don't know what you're playing at, but I'll not be made Wingleader. Not for this."
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Posted: Mon Dec 13, 2010 4:03 pm
J'aro did his best to not act surprised when his outcry was met with freedom. One of the less menacing-looking wherhandlers (they did exist) walked in, glanced between them, and finally unlocked one of the two doors.
J'aro stepped out of his cell and nodded a thanks.
The wherhandler, unappreciative of the gesture, told him flatly, "Bekar is here to get you."
"Of course. As for this one--" He would not look F'sey. Would not would not would not look at F'sey. "--he isn't to be released until I say." Until he heard F'sey agreed to be Wingleader is what he meant. "That's an order."
"If the Guardmaster or Whermaster say--"
"I know," J'aro said. "And if they do, then you will listen, of course. But until then, you listen to me. He stays for now."
"This is just holding. Do you want-"
"Here is fine." J'aro breezed the handler and toward the door. "Until next time, Wherhandler."
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Posted: Mon Dec 13, 2010 4:08 pm
F'sey did actually manage to look surprised when one of the guards came to release J'aro from his cell. What was the point of even throwing him in there, if the Whitemaster could get himself out whenever he wanted?
Looking more cross than he did at the start, the greenrider only hissed, retreating back to the corner of his cell. Fine. J'aro could keep him here. He wasn't about to give up his opinion over something as simple as freedom. (...wait a minute...)
"..."
He'd repay J'aro. Somehow.
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