Logs:A Dragon in Mourning
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| RL Date: 8 August, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Teisyth, Oliwer |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Teisyth mourns her loss. |
| Where: Home sweet home, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 24, Month 6, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Vignette, Oliwer borrowed with his player's blessing. Back-dated. |
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| « It's dead, G'laer! » Teisyth was still mentally sniffling that night though her nose had no obstruction of any kind. She's insisted he sit with her while he examined the tears to render a prognosis and he'd refused because the light simply was not enough and he was not about to strain his eyes for a stupid pillow. A stupid pillow he knew he'd be hearing about for days, and he suspected possibly longer since, no matter how many times he'd tried to get rid of the thing, she had an uncanny knack for remembering its existence even when previous experience with her memory should've dictated that it would be gone from all recollection. Her woeful mental moaning had only gotten worse since Oliwer, gravely and tenderly, gave his pronouncement as the local authority on things that can be sewn up and saved. True, his usual patients have more blood than feathers, but it was the best the greenrider could do on short notice. Initially, G'laer had been grateful for the pronouncement after the shared look that made certain his weyrmate understood that the pillow should be dead even if it wasn't. But now? Her constant battering against his brain's bulwarks was wearing him down, and giving him a headache. Being unkind with her would only lead to more moping; he'd learned that the hard way. « We'll get you a new one, » the greenrider finally tried out of desperation as the headache bore down on him. Her relief was instantaneous; her trust in him was frighteningly absolute. « Hooray! » The headache abated. He sighed. It was something.
G'laer knew there would be no peace until they did something about it. How could he expect her to forget the disgusting thing if she was still paying her respects to it every time they left or returned to their ledge. He went to sit with her on the third evening, hand touching her muzzle lightly. "I don't like to see you so sad." Mostly, he just didn't like feeling it himself, and Teisyth was generous with her emotions. It amounted to the same thing in the end, and she wouldn't have questioned him anyway. Teisyth leaned into his hand. « I don't like bein' so sad, but it's dead, G'laer. Feels like I ain't never gonna feel no joy ever again. » G'laer knew this was exaggeration by any other's standards, but that seemed to be how Teisyth was. What for anyone else would be the emotional equivalent of a stubbed toe, to her is a broken foot or worse. He tolerated it because, like him, there was no changing her. Not in the big ways. "When riders die, they go between. We could take it between if you like." He immediately regretted the words because he could feel Teisyth irrational temptation to stay between to visit it, and that got too dangerous too quickly. "But it's not a rider, so that probably isn't the proper place for it," he added hurriedly. "After all, sailors are lost to the sea and that's as they'd prefer it, and Gran will want to be laid to rest under wild herbs," and he floundered for more examples that might reverse his moment of poor foresight. Thankfully one example had been enough, for now the green asked with concern, « G'laer, where do pillows go to die? » For a moment, G'laer had no answer. "Pillows..." He hadn't heard Oliwer approach from behind them, but he must have been there long enough to gather what answer he needed because his kindly contribution was, "Pillows are often lost to the laundry," before coming to place his hand over top of G'laer's on Teisyth's nose. And that was that. G'laer offered to take the pillow to the laundry himself, but no. Teisyth nobly said that since it was her pillow, it must be she who placed the thing into the laundress' hands. And, of course, she must be quite sure the laundress would handle her task with the utmost care. G'laer sighed and silently wondered how much the performance from the laundress would cost him. But one look at Teisyth and the way she looked back at him hopefully for the first time in days... he knew he'd pay whatever it cost. After all, at least the pillow would finally be gone. It was something. |
Comments
Ghena (18:40, 30 August 2014 (EDT)) said...
<3 <3 <3 Teisyth! <3 It's always so striking to see how incredibly different G'laer's lifemate is from his own personality.
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