Logs:Normal Reactions
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| RL Date: 10 February, 2013 |
| Who: H'kon |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Three days after impression, H'kon starts to realise what he's got himself into. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 11, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: By request, for K'del. With inspiration from this picture and this one. |
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| Hunger. His hunger was there, borderline crippling. In a few more moments, Halik- H'kon would begin to feel dizzy, would begin to have troubles focusing, to have troubles seeing. But wasn't he already having trouble seeing? Seeing too much, seeing more. He could see everything that little brown, that Arekoth, did. He could see himself seeing other things. It was disorienting. Ha-kon wondered if the brown saw everything he saw. Arekoth didn't seem to have any problem, if that was the case. « Oh, I can see everything. » He knew how sharp that brown's gaze was, and felt uncertain - and unwilling to question. Arekoth puffed up his chest, and Hali- no, H'kon - felt an almost sick humour. And then a far sicker guilt. He should be seeing Arekoth with the same starry-eyed gaze so many of the other new weyrlings had for their lifemates: the girl from Benden who eased herself and her lifemate to sleep every night with compliments for his handsomeness, or the sailor who took such pride in the weyrlingmaster's inspections of his blue, the effeminate young man who had no fear to polish the intense 'greenness' of his new dragon, no matter the jibes from some of the others. But when he, H'kon, looked to his dragon, Arekoth, he couldn't help but see the dragonet's his too-narrow snout, his too-large head, his too-thin neck, his too-short wings, his too-big hind legs, his too-round belly, his too-greyed sandy colours. When he, H'kon, brown Arekoth's new rider, looked to his dragon, he saw his ugliness full on. And somewhere, beneath the humour, and then the guilt, he wondered if something was wrong. Arekoth stretched out his little wings and flapped, and gave a shrieking creel that made - H'kon's - spine tingle. « Food. I could eat a whole wherry. I could eat two whole wherries. And some fish. And Behranth. » H'kon was, again, unsure if he should question it. He could feel that dizziness on him now. M'kenos was already at the tables of cut meat, and he gave H'kon a nod, though he mostly preoccupied with feeding Behranth zealously. Behranth was eating in the same way. Now, that dragonet seemed gangly, certainly, but he was proportional, even nice to look at from an angle. He was normal. And that thought made Halikon - and H'kon too - feel almost as though he would throw up all his own lunch. 'Normal' was not what was following him now, the grey-brown with his too-small snout turned into a too-large mouth that strained too far open in its expectation, while those stub wings flapped. 'Normal' had never followed him back home, but as a word flung as a weapon, a sword to cut away any sense of belonging or security. 'Normal' was a standard turned into- « FOOD, H'kon. » Arekoth beat his wings at the air and made a squawking noise in his throat, and H'kon nearly dropped the chunk of meat his hands had seized in a start at the intensity of the dragonet's demand, at the flash of bright pink that somehow chilled him to the centre of his brain. Arekoth caught it in his gaping maw, swallowed it almost whole without missing a beat, and then opened his mouth again, and waited. No, Halikon was accustomed to being followed, and by someone who was not 'normal,' by someone whom others called ugly. (He put another chunk of meat into Arekoth's mouth, and the whole routine repeated itself until the grey-brown was gape-mawed again.) But to him, his sister never was. She had been beautiful since he'd first seen her - he was not so young then that he could not remember. (He gave another chunk to Arekoth; swallow, open, squawk.) And when any other had called her out, he had defended her with every sincerity. And she had followed him. There was another sickness beneath that guilt. And this one was for home. Hal- H'kon stepped around the table, made his eyes focus. Arekoth followed him and made a squawking noise again, mouth open the whole time, little wings trying for balance. Another chunk of meat. The colours that his dragon put into his head were turning, dancing, crackling with delight. The sicknesses - humour, guilt, home - all sank deeper, away from those colours. They all began to mix. His face started to feel cold. A part of him wondered if that was the reality of what he'd taken finally hitting him. After the hatching, when his dragon had gone to sleep, when his head had cleared, he'd explored what duty would mean in an Interval. He'd allowed himself fantasies of bringing Naelli to live with him when he had his own weyr, perhaps not right away, but in time. Hadn't he seen his father growing old in past turns? Yes. Seen his mother's attentions wandering beyond her family? Oh yes. At eighteen years, he'd been nearer it all, the plan - his own family, a room for her, proper care, a chance to grow even. He'd let himself imagine, that night, that a call of an old duty to the Weyr had changed, that it all could become possible. Arekoth overwhelmed him with colour, with sensations, with the images of his own pale face, and it brought all that sickness up, and H'kon felt the bile in the back of his throat, and dropped the piece of meat when he reached to brace himself on the table's edge. « I'm hungry. » When he opened his eyes again, he saw the dragon, mouth closed, looking at that meat on the floor of the barracks. "Then eat it." His voice was shaky, and had the sound of tears in it. Then EAT it!! he thought with all his might. Arekoth looked at the meat again, showed it to H'kon in his mind, and then tilted his head up and opened his mouth. And waited. H'kon was certain that he would throw up his insides all over that meat if he bent down. It took him some time to do so, and a great deal of intestinal fortitude to maintain what composure he had left. When he dropped it meekly down the dragon's gullet, he felt everything, all he was and all he'd wanted, going with it, down into that too-round belly. And he knew that Interval made no difference, that his old life was gone, and that his dragon would continue to follow him everywhere. And all this would be normal. Arekoth's head coming up against his side startled him. He put his hand against it, and tried to quiet himself. « I'm so much more than normal, H'kon. » But there would be no quiet for quite some time. |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:Normal Reactions"K'del (K'del (talk)) left a comment on Sun, 10 Feb 2013 20:50:01 GMT.
Oh, H'kon.
I love this look into where that partnership has come from, and how... uneasy, I guess, it is?
And Arekoth is adorable.
Thank you for indulging me!
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Sun, 10 Feb 2013 20:59:52 GMT.
If there's one thing that makes me a sadface, it's H'kon thinkin' about his sister. :
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