Logs:We Loved You So Much
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| RL Date: 28 June, 2012 |
| Who: K'del, Madilla |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Afterwards, K'del grieves. |
| Where: Infirmary / Ysavaeth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Iolene/Mentions |
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| K'del didn't want to move. The healers had told him that Iolene would be out for hours, that she wouldn't notice if he wanted to get up, change his clothes, clear his head. But the idea of leaving her made him feel sick to his stomach, and so he stayed, still perched on the edge of the cot, still clinging to her hand as though that, alone, would make everything ok again. It wouldn't. In the low evening glow-light, he could see the tears that had dried on her cheeks. She often looked peaceful when she slept, but not tonight: even sleeping, her expression threatened to tear his heart out. It wasn't supposed to be like this. In a few months, they were supposed to have a baby together. They were supposed to be sleep-deprived and besotted, exhausted but exhilarated. They weren't supposed to be empty like this. Empty, and aching. We loved you so much, he told their now-dead child, trying not to let his eyes well up with tears again. We wanted you so much. It was stupid, he knew, to try and think at it like that. It was hard not to. And Iolene-- he lifted his free hand to push hair back from her face, to study her sleeping form again. He could think of nothing to make this better for her, to make it easier. She looked so tiny, so lost. At the edges of his mind, he could feel Cadejoth lurking, rattling chains and rumbling reassures, but he pushed the bronze away. I need to be alone right now. He kept his vigil, though his shoulders cramped and his hand went numb. He needed to be here, when she woke up. He'd promised he wouldn't leave. He wouldn't leave. It was late, when he woke up. He hadn't intended to sleep, just to curl up next to Iolene, to keep her company through her rest. Madilla's pale eyes regarded him through the dim of the infirmary; her expression was soulfully sad, almost enough of its own accord to make him cry again. "Go home," she told him, solemnly. "Wash up, change your clothes. It's when she wakes up that she'll need you, and you'll need to be yourself for that." She offered him her hand; she surprised him, a moment later, by pulling him into a hug as he stumbled back to his feet. He hadn't intended to stand-- she hadn't intended to let him refuse. "You're allowed to grieve," she told him. "I'm so sorry." "Go." He pulled on his heavy coat and tracked out into the midnight quiet of the frozen weyr. Ice on the ledge cracked under the weight of his boots as he crossed towards the pair of resting dragons. They were both awake-- he inclined his head just once to Ysavaeth, trying not to be afraid at the gray of her pallor. At least Cadejoth seemed solid, watching him with all three sets of lids open. "Our baby's gone," he found himself saying, out loud, breaking the silence of the winter night. His voice sounded hoarse and wrong; it was cracking again, like it hadn't done since he was a teenager. « I know. » Cadejoth's words were little more than a breath in his mind, so utterly still and unhappy. Gray-tinged, quietly reverent: it was nothing K'del was used to, from the bronze. "I don't know what to do. Or what to say. I don't know how to make it stop hurting." He felt his bronze, felt that alien mental landscape coallesce in upon his own. Link upon link, chain upon chain; he felt the way it built inside his mind. I have you, he said-without-saying. Everything will be all right. Trust me. "I don't know how." « I do. » How long had it been since he'd last reached up to wrap his arms around his dragon's neck? He had no words for his mate, for the queen who curled up alongside him. He knew she didn't sleep; he had no intention of drifting off and abandoning her to the night. Long after his rider retreated again, stronger but no less broken, he waited there. For Ysavaeth, he would stay quiet-- but quiet did not mean not-present. Her sorrow was his, and he would hold it for her. Tomorrow... tomorrow they could worry about later.
CommentsAzaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Fri, 29 Jun 2012 06:32:21 GMT.
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Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Fri, 29 Jun 2012 06:32:21 GMT.
Ow. My heart. ~<3
Elgin (Elgin) left a comment on Sat, 30 Jun 2012 00:22:38 GMT.
Oh, that broke my heart.
Iolene (Satiet) left a comment on Sat, 30 Jun 2012 00:44:46 GMT.
Tell me about it...
The scene actually didn't make me cry (partly cause I was keeping up a running commentary of stupid silly things OOCly to get from being all maudlin) but this vignette had me bursting into tears.
Stupid, K'del.
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