Logs:Halikon's Search
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| RL Date: 4 August, 2013 |
| Who: Halikon, H'tram |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: A fisherman's son is given an offer he can't, in good conscience, refuse. |
| Where: Tillek Hold |
| When: Day 17, Month 11, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Haeron/Mentions, Kallia/Mentions, Naelli/Mentions |
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| Hal stared at the bronzerider before him, wishing his father were there. But wishing gave him no answers, and realising it brought a heat to his cheeks, and that only made H'tram poke a finger hard into his chest, and remind him what bronzeriders liked to do with blushing girls. That bronze Rousath stared at him all the while. He'd have rathered the dragon poke him in the chest and say something as well. At least then he'd have something to go on. It could all be a joke, couldn't it? Revenge for some overly heroic attempt at preserving the honour of one of the dock girls. Halikon wondered even if she had honour left to preserve. She'd not left, even when the rider had. Or, Hal thought he had. He'd seen no sign of the man when he'd been walking Naelli back home, had even dared to feel the pride he'd seen on his sister's face, felt in how she held his arm. He'd deserve the joke anyway, for having gone back to see if he could manage courage enough to speak to the girl herself. Maybe she was still at her table. Maybe he'd never know. Maybe this rider and his beast would never give him the chance to see, and just take him off on some pretence of search, and drop him in the sea, and leave him. Hal took a breath, and tried to give the control back to his head, and not his heart, and not his passions, and not his doubts. If his father were here, he'd have him think this through. Thinking. That's what he needed to do now. Treat the offer as real, that was the first thing. A man like Kairek would laugh in the rider's face. Halikon would give the rider's station the respect it deserved. Good. The problem facing him had a shape now, attributes. But it all worked out to a question of duty. He well knew both his duty to the Hold, and the Hold's duty to the Weyr. He could hear his father's voice, an ancient lesson by now: Without the Weyr, the Hold would not have survived. Most important is that we do not allow ourselves to forget this when we do not see it daily. And he hadn't. And it would be simple, if that were all. But he had a duty to his family as well, and it was a strange one, one most other sons would not know. Most other sons did not have sisters that needed the protection Naelli did, least of all at thirteen turns. Most other sons would feel only pride at their fathers earning command of a boat, and not caution at his increased lack of presence in their sisters' lives. Most other sons, he imagined, would not think it necessary that there be two men to ensure she was treated well, not taken advantage of, given the treatment her kindness deserved. But Halikon wasn't like most. If his father were here, Hal would ask him which was the more important, duty to the Hold and Weyr, or duty to the family. At least Naelli wasn't here for him to see, when even the thought of leaving her... The bronze stretched out his wings a second time, but now Halikon did not feel that same sense of awe. He'd made himself stern, he had his heart well under control now, and his head well above water. H'tram's reminder that Rousath didn't like waiting for kids with silly names like 'halcyon' didn't stir him either. Wishing for his father was all part of the heart too, some last relic of the childhood, hoping for something that he knew would not, could not, force itself into a reality. He saw it now, that he wanted Haeron not for guidance, but to excuse him from what was required. The truth of it was that the Hold and the Weyr were both much bigger. Thinking clearly, with his emotions well in hand, it was obvious. As was what was required of him. H'tram had started to turn, to dismiss him. "Nevermind, kid. Even Rousath can be wrong someti-" It was in a sudden panic that Hal blurted, "I will." The rider's laugh made his face flare red again, and the clout to his back did little to help Halikon get himself back under control. It took the whole walk back to his home to quiet himself. But by the time he reached their door, he'd calmed himself, all his actions planned out. Inside, he executed them in a controlled order. By the time Halikon met the rider and his dragon again, he'd left a formal note for his mother, looked in on the sister he'd felt no need to wake, packed a few of his things, and turned back the corner of his blankets so his bed would be well prepared for when he was returned home. When Rousath took to the skies, Hal was willing to allow himself some small sense of satisfaction. His actions could not be faulted; he'd thought it all through, clear-headed, with his heart well under control. |
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