Logs:Strong
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| RL Date: 6 November, 2012 |
| Who: Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: The morning after Iolene's death. Azaylia tries to cope with how she coped the day before. |
| Where: Azaylia and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 3, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Iolene/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions |
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| Azaylia's head was killing her. She had never felt this kind of pain, the kind that made every limb five times heavier. A pain that started in her throbbing head and drip-dripped down to her churning stomach. Her bed was warm, but cracking her stiff, bloodshot eyes open revealed that her unwitting snuggle-buddy had gone. Were there still Glacier riders stationed outside her weyr? « They come and go. » Hraedhyth whispered on dark smoke, drums quiet enough so as not to aggravate her rider's self-inflicted hangover. Why? It was a stupid question as soon as she thought it, Iolene's dead face flashing in her mind's eyes. Gone. She's gone. She's dead. Killed. Poisoned. Azaylia wasn't sure if it had been her gold's doing, or her own memory and guilt which had forced the gruesome image onto her so early in the morning. « It is midday. » Azaylia almost didn't hear the dragon over the sound of her heaving, having stumbled and thrown herself over the toilet. Hugging it tight, she rested her brow against the rim, trembling, ignoring the tears that stung her already raw cheeks. She didn't dare reach out to her dragon, fearful that any reminder would set the gold off into another rampage... Hraedhyth was there, despite the effort to keep her out. « I have not been allowed to forget. » The gold was draped across the entrance to their weyr, a creamy, ashen gatekeeper that was eerily still. Since the first time she'd hatched, the dragon's bulk looked to be sagging, lumpy and tumorous, rather than fit. We... I... We need to do something. The weyr needs us. Brieli. K... K'del. And yet the thought of standing threw her into another bout of sickness, even if the junior had nothing left in her stomach to lose. Smoke cleared away, drums delicate yet unintentionally matching the throbbing in her rider's head, « I am here. » In the distant plains, the cries and roars of her people echoed, the onslaught she had been protecting her rider from, « I will help our tribe through this. » She is a queen, after all. « We are strong. » Azaylia clenched her eyes tighter, willing the tears away. She didn't feel strong. She had floundered, had failed them when everyone had needed her the most. What kind of weyrwoman was she? Iolene... Iolene... Ysavaeth had always had control over her dragons. Her Weyr. Iolene would have known what to do. She wouldn't have lost control of her dragon's temper... « You are strong. » No. As exhausted as Hraedhyth was, her rich voice tightened with her own power, « You. Are. Strong. » Azaylia curled in tighter against the toilet, trying to block out her dragon's words. She shifted in discomfort as a pointed pressure atop her thigh grew more intense with every movement. It was then that she thought to reach and adjust whatever was digging in to the muscle, hands wrapping around leather. « You are strong. » It had become a rhythmic pounding now, a chant of power. No. I'm not. Her grip tightened around the too-small sheath Taikrin had given her, the one she had been far too drunk to take off before passing out in bed. Azaylia let loose another sob, squeezing the dagger as if it would bring her some sort of comfort. But I will be. |
Comments
K'del (K'del) left a comment on Tue, 06 Nov 2012 22:59:46 GMT.
< Oh, Aza. <3 <3 <3
Yes, you will be.
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