Difference between revisions of "Logs:Cadejoth's Pack"

It wasn't a long walk back to his weyr, from the guest weyr, and, ironically, the icy cold bowl was enough to thaw out - that is, to cool down - the immediate impacts of the flight. K'del tilted his head up towards the sky, staring off into the fog and feeling the iciness on his face; he breathed, feeling the cold of it rattle in his lungs. It hurt, but at the same time, it felt kind of good. Fresh. Clean.

They'd never really discussed it, he and Cadejoth. Why there had been no greens since Iovniath. Why none of them had interested him, not even Yyth. In retrospect, Yyth made sense: Yyth wanted all of him, wanted to consume him, body and soul. Cadejoth could no longer let that happen, not so long as he was Iovniath's mate.

But Vrianth. Perhaps it made a little sense. He'd always been entranced by her spark, hadn't he? Shared it often enough.

He began to walk again, shuffling through the snowdrifts rather than following the paths made by other passages through the bowl, including his own. He'd wanted her. He'd been aware of Iovniath, for most of the time, but towards the end... Cadejoth had wanted it so much.

« She's fun, » the bronze explained, weary and disappointed, but not, ultimately, bereft. It was hard to really bring him down. « She hides and teases. »

So... You'd chase her again? What about other greens?

« Maybe. They're my greens, aren't they? My pack. If I want them. But... Iovniath. » She was back, then, lingering in his thoughts, his self-conjured representation of her, all white-and-cold-and-ice. « Iovniath is my mate. She's first. »

So there it was. At least until Iovniath rose again. The occasional green... but only maybe. Maybe. K'del could deal with that. In some ways, he'd kind of missed it: the interruption of flights, the exhilaration of it, the tightened bond with Cadejoth. Winning didn't matter, not afterwards, as that fog began to clear from his head.

Iovniath, though. Would they chase again? Cadejoth would want to. K'del...

It wasn't that being Weyrleader now, at this age, was what he wanted. It wasn't that it was what he'd dreamed about, newly Impressed and opening up to the possibility. But. But.

He wasn't sure. Would not chasing be seen to be running away? Or doing the magnanimous thing, the right thing? Wasn't as though he'd had any luck at stopping Cadejoth last time, anyway. Maybe if they went away for it.

It was probably turns away, though. Did it matter? What mattered now, was being the best Weyrleader he could be.

The ante-chamber was cold, if somewhat sheltered from the winds outside. He swung up the passage towards his own weyr, where his drink remained, and the fire burned low. How long had he been gone? Long enough.

Long enough.