Difference between revisions of "Logs:Inaction"

H'kon could not sleep. He knew he was not alone in this. He imagined there were a great many who felt endangered, who felt offended, who felt affronted. There would be those who were raging, who were crying, who were frozen. There was any number of reasons for being awake, perfectly acceptable reasons, proper ones. H'kon's reason were all wrong.

He could feel the influence of the Weyr on Arekoth. Individuals always became more of a whole in crisis, even in holds, even without dragons. And dragons were more of a whole already, a whole with very ordered structure. When one of the heads was cut... Oh, he could feel the Weyr through Arekoth, all around the brown, interwoven through his linked mind. Arekoth was linked in, and what H'kon sensed in his dragon was distinct in their own connection. It worried him.

There had been crises before, and he'd used Arekoth's intensity to his own benefit; ridden the same wave, defended his own. Their own. It had been one in the same, and that was when the balancing act their weyrlingmasters had described did work in their favour, where they'd been at their best.

So wasn't it a crisis, the weyrwoman's death? The Weyr had scrambled, had locked down. Arekoth had been on the defensive from the keen, had wanted to tear into everything, to dig. H'kon had been... well, he could tell himself he'd been balancing his dragon, as he always did. Or that he was older now, that some of the frantic energy was gone from him. He could tell himself all these things, but the distinction wouldn't give way under the nothing weight of lies.

H'kon had recognised the wrong of killing a dragonrider, a goldrider. He had recognised the assocation with the Weyr. But he hadn't felt the personal affront that he saw in Arekoth and in so many others, had he? He hadn't rushed to the weyrleader's ledge when Cadejoth had called, like Arekoth had flown to the eggs. Or to his wingleader. Or to the goldriders, delegating.

He had slowed, stopped, stood. He had been unnerved by his dragon's arcing suspicions, even bordered on angry with them. They had got in the way of his... Calm? Apathy? Relief?

But none of those were right - and they were all wrong. He'd not been a man to sit on his ledge in protest in quieter times. Perhaps he could comfort himself in that he hadn't done nothing, not really. He'd slowed when the weyrwoman had died, yes, but then he'd come when bidden by his weyrwomen. In the end, he was a brownrider, a wingrider. And perhaps it was not his place to take action where others were already come. Perhaps it was his place to wait to be called.

H'kon could keep telling himself all these things. His past actions - inactions - would still be wrong. And with the Weyr limping, and the Weyrleader absconded, brownrider H'kon would sit in his Weyr with his seething dragon. And the distinction between Arekoth's weyr and his would remain, perhaps indefinitely. Perhaps simply until he was called.