Logs:Taciturn
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| RL Date: 16 August, 2015 |
| Who: Yesia, Aeaeth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Yesia and Aeaeth take their turns in silence. |
| Where: Puddle-Keeper Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 16, Month 7, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: H'vier/Mentions, Jo/Mentions |
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| « Yesia? » Silence from the inner quarters of the weyr, and Aeaeth has never before wished so strongly to be inside with her lifemate, not sequestered off without means of accessing her, not even when it was frigid outside and Aeaeth woke with ice coated to her pale hide in the early morning light. Silence is not Aeaeth's natural habitat; whale-song echoes from the furthest quarter of her mind, sweet and sad and echoing in depths unknown, her only expression of her misery. « Yesia, are you mad at me? » Silence. Then: Yes. « I wish you wouldn't be. I didn't do anything wrong. » Aeaeth is immediately defensive, taking the chance for conversation to relay what she has been assured many times over. This is not her fault; she didn't do anything wrong; there is no need to be mad. But Yesia, who throws sticks in the spokes of every plan, is nevertheless. The silence she meets is dangerously, uncomfortably tense. She can hear Yesia inside, padding lightly around on stocking feet, and knows the sound of the klah pot the girl keeps on hand just for nights that need comfort or get a little too cold. It clicks against a cup now, and Aeaeth can smell the cinnamon and spices in it even outside. They have barely spoken since they landed on the ledge, since Jo and Tacuseth had disappeared between on « business, sweets, » and now Aeaeth's increasing anxiety reaches a breaking point in the face of her taciturn rider. What if she did the wrong thing? What if Yesia never forgives her, the way she'll never forgive the other weyrlings and their dragons? What if she hates her? What if they are broken now, forever and ever, all because Tacuseth is her favorite shade of blue and she suspects that his rider might be just the thing Yesia needs, even if she can't see it just now? Better than Reisoth's, anyways, and she felt his cunning eyes on her in the sky as she went, and is relieved not to have to avoid him too. « Yesia? » Silence. « I love you more for being mad at me. I will love you even if you hate me forever, because we are us. But I am not sorry for choosing. I am not to be caught. » She knows that Yesia felt it, as she dragged her consciousness through the sky and her human half tried very hard to keep her feet on the ground, heels dug in. She felt the stars call, and the desire to go higher; the dismay that she'd thought she was being clever with that head-start, but how it ruined her in the end. Yesia felt it - but she wasn't there. They were not them, they were apart up there. They would have touched a star if they had been together. You could have chosen someone else. « I thought you would understand, » Aeaeth says, softly, dismayed. Eventually: You chose him instead of me? « No! » The youngling green rejects that out of hand - paw - and stands abruptly to turn and face the weyr entrance, the reaction instantaneous. « I chose him for us. » A bitter laugh from inside, and the curtain pulls aside, Yesia's pale round face peeking around the heavy drapery to find her dragon close enough for warm breath to hit her. "You keep saying that." « I would do anything to not hurt you. Anything at all, Yesia. If you had come with me, we could have flown around the entire sky. Then Tacuseth would have brought us back down, and we could have had a star in our weyr forever and ever as a prize for how far we flew. » A beat, a blazon of colored lights over dark skies and stars that she knows are there if she flies far enough. « You were not supposed to be mad. » "It sounds a lot like you chose him for you," the greenrider says, her head tilting off to the side as her shoulder drops against the threshold, propping herself there. "I got the consolation prize. A dirty, criminal bluerider who -" « -would be very good, if either of you would bother to try! » Yesia recoils from the clatter of pans and pots and many, many cymbals in Aeaeth's words, cacophony, tried and true and jarring. Yesia can't go any paler when it stops. « You are so stubborn. I love when you're stubborn. But right now, » and this is delivered with gravitas much greater than the little green has ever possessed, « you are wrong. » "Go to sleep, Aeaeth. We'll be expected back at drills in the morning, and I'm just - tired, okay?" Silence. Yesia draws the curtain closed, and Aeaeth listens to her pad through the weyr shuttering glows. She listens to her brush her hair, and braid it with deft, careful fingers. Listens to her crawl into the overlarge bed and curl up right in the center, and feels a pang of longing for Aeaeth to be inside with her, so she needn't sleep alone. Good night, Aeaeth. Silence. |
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Comments
Edyis (10:44, 16 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
Aeaeth is right of course. Your being silly.
I loved reading this, I love seeing how one flight alters things.
Jo (10:52, 16 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
Aeaeth has more sense than one realizes once you start really listening to her. I loved the interaction here! Of course, now things are going to be pretty AWKWARD, hahaha! Poor tortured characters~ ;D
Alida (23:51, 16 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
Poor Aeaeth.
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