Samodith shifted restlessly, settling and resettling, flicking her wings as though she were trying to shake water from them. That wasn't a half-bad idea, in fact - she could use a good bath to scrub away the crawling, on-edge feeling that lingered after her latest Flight. She'd been unkind again, quick to snap and snarl and chase away her winning suitor, as she was more often than not. She needed them but she didn't want them, not the way she had before; though she could well remember the thrill and delight of being so pursued, of having hearts in her claws, no matter how much she reached for it, it had become an empty pleasure she only pretended at. Perhaps, if she pretended for long enough, she might finally be herself again, instead of simply acting it.
Frustratingly, it hadn't worked yet, and it was tiring sometimes to carry on so, day after day. But what else was there to be done for it? She had long since learned that trying to cut out her own feelings only deepened the wounds, so she had resolved to keep them - they were hers, after all, and she was entitled to them - and at first it had seemed a livable compromise. As time had gone on, however, they had slowly turned, gradually taking on a numbness before moving into darker tones. It was hardly surprising, really, given that she never had been pure of hearts; there were some for whom she might pretend to be good, to be a better person than she really was, but that was an act that had never had even the slightest chance of becoming reality. In spite of her efforts to fend them off, bitterness and jealousy had eventually set in alongside frustration and resentment. She'd always been prone to moods, but they'd grown increasingly common, and she often wanted little of being sociable outside of when she absolutely had to be. In a word, Samodith was depressed - not in that she was a sulking pile of sadness, but in that very little made her genuinely happy or gave her true enjoyment. She felt like she was existing in a sort of limbo, just clinging to the promise that one day, she could leave. One day, maybe, this knife would stop twisting deeper into her hearts; she knew better than to think that Western would be perfect, but at least she wouldn't spend every day reminded of what she could never have. In the beginning, deep in her hearts, she'd hoped that one day, if she was patient, if she persisted, there might yet be a place for her where she so wanted: it was easier than admitting outright that she had lost. She had always been so sure of herself, so comfortable in the knowledge that there was nothing - no one - she could not have if she wanted it, because she was Samodith, and she could charm her way into anything. To admit that she'd been wrong would have been to cruel a blow to her sense of self.
But she could only be so foolish for so long. Time had eroded that silly hope, and tenuous at best from the outset, it had finally been snuffed out some months ago. There would never be a place for her there. If she were a better dragon, perhaps, she'd have been able to take some higher path, to reassure herself that they were happy, and because she loved them, she could be happy as long as they were happy. But Samodith was not that creature, though she had tried for a long time to hold it at bay.
No, she'd grown to resent it, and it wasn't uncommon for her to brood over...uncharitable thoughts. She kept them close to her chest where they couldn't hurt anyone but her, but they were there. She hated that this had become her life, that time refused to heal this wound no matter what she did or didn't do. It remained open and seeping, and all the while she could only look back sadly on the dragon she'd once been, revelling in the power of her own beauty and cunning, sure that anyone she might want was hers for the taking. What a trap she had let herself fall into, but she could find no way out of it that was immediately available.
All she could do was wait, until she could go somewhere new, be away from where it had all happened, where not a day went by that something didn't twist the knife in her hearts. Where she could start over and try again to be herself, without the past looming over her. Where she would be adored and treasured, a darling adopted child, and put behind her that that there had ever been a time that she hadn't been enough. Where there would be new dragons to charm and wrap around her claws if she wanted, who hadn't seen this version of her, or the heartbreak or the desperation. It was entirely possible that it was too rosy and hopeful a view for what might actually await her, but it was something to get her through the days. Through the Turns, of which there were so many left. Too many. Maybe if she had been different in the first place, sweeter or of glittering hide...
If you were different, you wouldn't be you. Hers came out onto the ledge to see her, and Samodith curled carefully around her, nosing and cuddling as Akaris stroked kissed her scarred face. And if you weren't you, you wouldn't have chosen me. She knew all of the green's pain, every secret ugly thought, and she hurt with her. There was little she could do, however, but share it and be with her. She'd have given anything to change the way things had played out, anything to see her beloved happy and flourishing, to have everything she wanted and deserved and more. There was a time when she might have been content to stay at High Reaches, if it had been what Samodith wanted, but as Samodith had grown to resent it more and more, there was no reason for them to stay any longer than they absolutely had to. Even if R'lyrr and Andelath chose not to follow, that wouldn't stop them. Akaris loved her weyrmate, well and truly, and had friends she would miss, but Samodith would always come first. Still, the day they could go home was a long, long way off - they were yet bound to High Reaches for another three and a half Turns, no matter how cruel that felt at times.
You are right, and I would not trade you for anything or anyone, she assured Hers, leaning into the mental embrace she offered as Akaris did her best to soothe what she could.
Have you talked to Kleoth today? she suggested after some time had passed, knowing that her green had grown fond of the Western gold. When Samodith interacted with her, she actually seemed genuinely like her old self again, all coy postures and charm, proving that it was still in there somewhere, even if circumstances had stifled it. She knew well how delighted she'd been when Kleoth had reached out when she'd taken ill, how greatly her mood had improved to know that in just one meeting, she had left enough of an impression to warrant concern for her injuries. That was how it should be, who she should be. Special. And how pleased she'd been at the Hatching that Kleoth hadn't hesitated to accept her invitation to sit with her! It had also been a welcome, much-needed distraction from focusing on the Hatching itself, when she had finally been forced to accept the reality she had so long tried to deny. She had since taken to reaching out semi-regularly to talk with the gold - at first it had been simple enough, how-are-yous and friendly chats and banter, but gradually Samodith had reached a point where she had started to confide in a way she'd never before been willing to with any dragon of High Reaches. Not all at once, but bits and pieces of her discontent, or a critical evaluation of the results of a Flight, until finally, one day, she had been ready to admit that she simply wasn't okay, that sometimes the hurt was hard to bear.
Not yet. A little later, I think. When she was less likely to catch her friend in the middle of something.
Good. It's been a little while. Akaris did worry sometimes if maybe her dragon might ultimately be trading one ill-fated desire for another, but she would never dream of dissuading her, not when her talks with Kleoth were such a bright spot for her. It helped her to get through, and reminded her of who she was when she was free to be herself.
It was something, at least.
