Logs:Cogs
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| RL Date: 23 May, 2013 |
| Who: D'kan, Kazavoth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: D'kan is kept awake one night by a brain that will not shut up. Kazavoth briefly tries to help. |
| Where: Blue Door and Murals Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 11, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
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The night's chill had permeated the weyr a while ago; the moment D'kan left the warmth of his blankets, he started to regret it, so he took the topmost off the bed and wrapped it tightly around himself as he stepped into a fairly new pair of fur-lined wherhide moccasins. By the time he had rekindled the fire in the weyr's small, potbelly stove, Kazavoth had unlidded his eyes to peer through thin crescent slits at his lifemate. Groggy waves of chilled mist lapped almost imperceptibly along the outermost edges of consciousness, clinging to the borders of their island, dark with shadows. « Why so restless? » The question was faint, too sincere to be reluctant, but only just. As soon as the question was posed, the link began to fade as Kazavoth slipped once more toward sleep. D'kan sent a gentle nudge back across the link, urging the brown to rest. He attempted to infuse the prompt with thoughts of comfort and tranquility, but his hand was not as skilled as the dragon's. The rider, trying to reinforce his attempts, voiced too rigidly, « It is nothing, Kaz, go back to sleep. » This was the wrong thing to say, as Kazavoth raised his head to look directly at his rider, who was attempting to settle into a comfortable corner of the couch while a small kettle sat warming on the stove's flat surface. « "Nothing" keeps you awake at night? » Kazavoth asked, mindvoice dripping with suspicion. « "Nothing" has you out of bed, breath misting in the darkness as you huddle there like an old woman? » Despite his increased wish that the brown just sleep, D'kan had to laugh before he called over, "Fine, stay awake. I'm just waiting for tea." He slipped down a couple more inches on the couch and tugged the blanket up to his chin. « Tea, » Kazavoth muttered darkly, already retreating again along the link. « Vile drink. » Perhaps his rider knew him better than he had anticipated. As quickly as Kazavoth had awakened just previously, he now slipped down into that first hazy level of sleep, eyes slowly lidding once more. D'kan took a slow, unsteady breath and let his head rest on the couch's back, eyes closed as he waited for the kettle. He hadn't exactly lied to Kazavoth, right? He was waiting for tea. Something nice, chill, and herbal, aimed to ease him back to his slumbers. The problem was, that might not be enough. For days now, the cogs had been grinding away in the recesses of his brain, processing, milling, refining, reflecting. Everything seemed to gnaw at him lately. The Weyr, with its increasingly untrustworthy leadership. Weyrlinghood, with its increasing ability to drag on with moments of piercing uncomfortableness, like glass shards pressed under the fingernails. The tithes. The lies. The cowardice and the misplaced courage. Loyalties as muddled as the feeding pens after a heavy rain. He wanted to scream, to lash out. That had never been his way, but that didn't mean the impulse didn't exist, sometimes deeply seated, sometimes just below the surface. He teetered on the edge, pondering what to do once he and Kazavoth were free of their training. Stay and wade in? Support... someone? Depart for some lonely duty somewhere else, maybe acting as some hold's watchrider, maybe going into business as... something. D'kan let out a bridled breath and opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling once more. Suddenly restless, he flung off the blanket to pace quietly along the weyr's empty spaces, now quickly heating. He wouldn't run. He knew that, even if thoughts of the Hold had returned unbidden, laced with nostalgia and very little reality. He needed that reality now. It was so easy to lose perspective, still ensconced in weyrlinghood. He was surrounded by little people with their little worlds and ideas and experiences, and it made him rage. Was that too strong a word? It felt right. The Weyr was falling down around them, but no, it was so much more important to focus on sharding hormones and knots and... and... His thoughts were interrupted by the very beginnings of the kettle's whistle, quickly relieved as he lifted it from the stove and filled a mug with boiling water. A snort from the direction of his lifemate indicated he might not have been quite fast enough, but D'kan did not wait to find out. He banked the stove's fire, then retrieved his blanket and retreated back to the bed, mug held carefully against spills. He settled in and sipped his weak tea, warmth spreading to his hands and feet. While comforted, when he finally lay back once more, sleep still did not come. D'kan stared at the dimly lit ceiling as he had before, cogs still grinding, waiting for Rukbat to rescue him from the shadows. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 24 May 2013 00:15:56 GMT.
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Loved this. D'kan is really 'big picture' about it all, and his actually getting angry (enraged) bout things is really interesting. I always appreciate glimpses of dragon and rider interaction when they're at home. It makes me wonder just when this ticking timebomb will go off... if he ever does. >:3
Alida (Alida (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 24 May 2013 03:46:05 GMT.
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And yet another weyrling joins the growing list of those disgusted with enough things about the Weyr...though Deke is more quiet about it...at least for now. ;)
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