[PRP] What the Morrow Brings [K'ell/Nyara + dragons]

[Sweet Symmetry]

At the break of dawn...

...where linger fading dreams

It was cold and crisp that morning. A drop of blood red tinged the far distant horizon- like a promise, or an omen of what was to come. Soon, Rukbat would dance amongst the clouds, first purple, then grey as the coming storm gathered behind them… but for now, the pre-dawn gloom was all-encompassing. Companionable. Silence stretched and echoed in its inky blues, but the feel of fresh air was second to none.

A new day. A brand new start.

I hunger.

“I’ve noticed. It’s a reoccuring theme with you.”

We should eat before we bathe, NyaraMine. It made sense, of course. Nyara grinned at the golden hatchling beside her, tilting her head in contemplation.

“Or. Orrrrr…” She trailed off, tensing the muscles of her legs, feeling her body awaken to the morning that faced them.

You really think you can beat me? In a race? Me? There was a competitive edge to her voice, and Nyara laughed.

“Ha- I’ve already won, sweet thing. I know you won’t go full-speed. You’d be too afraid of falling over!” She gave a short, triumphant laugh, and was then interrupted by a not-so-gentle headbutt to the stomach.

All right, speedypants, let’s see how fast you can go. The ringing challenge in her musical voice was both bolstering and provoking. Nyara’s grin turned cocky, lazily spreading across her features until it threatened to split her face apart in two.

And then, with a sudden burst of energy, she cantered forwards, charging like some gallant knight on their steed. Mictecath skipped after her, child-like laughter echoing across their bond.

Nyara reached the waterside first, but Mic was not far behind. As the gold pulled up, she aimed her head at her rider’s side and pushed the stout girl right into the water. Unprepared for the sneak attack, Nyara was helpless to defend herself and landed with an almighty splash.

Looks like I win the contest of not looking foolish. Mic crowed, dancing out of Nyara’s reach.

“Hey!” The young woman spluttered, squirming back onto her feet before falling, unceremoniously, on dry land. She pulled her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around them, feigning a large shiver. Mictecath, concerned, returned to her side and wrapped her in a warm embrace of wing and tail. “I won’t push you in as well, but only because I’m nice.”

And I’m warm. The dragonet retorted, but the love in her voice was matched by the love in her rider’s heart.

Together, they peered out across the water, gazing up as the first of Rukbat’s warm rays broke the horizon, its light chasing away the dark that consumed the Weyr.

...leave behind the dark of night

And lay rest to death’s keens.

It was a hard time for them all, despite the start of many new lives. In only a few short days, it felt like home had changed so much. Nyara wasn’t sure how to think and feel about the situation- she was rather afraid that if she gave herself the chance to think about it in great depth, she might lose herself to melancholy. Emotions could be so troublesome at times.

And there, at the edges of her consciousness, Mictecath’s own sorrow came to life. “My sweet, gentle dragon… we cannot undo what has been done. But we can stop it from happening again.” Nyara’s voice grew distant as she watched the sun rise. Inside of her mind, inside of her very body, she felt Mic’s own sorrow turn to fire, some form of anger bubbling up.

If I had hatched in time… but… you are right. All I can do is make sure our family is never hurt again.

Nyara didn’t mind the heat of her dragon’s anger- in fact, in a way, it was comfortingly warm. It gave her a sense of purpose. “Do you blame him?” She thought of the dragon who had stepped upon the boy’s body after the merciless violence- the image somehow worse than when it had happened; for memories did not offer adrenaline as protection. There was nothing but cruelty and savagery left to see.

They shared a class with that creature.

Of course. It is his fault. But he may not do it again… Her tail flickered. Whether she was questioning her clutchmate’s ability to do so, or his desire, or even her own ability to intervene… well, Nyara wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. She trusted Mic with her life- and the lives of those around them.

But she wasn't sure she trusted herself to step in- would she have the strength to keep Mic in check, if something bad happened?

You won't need to. Nothing bad will happen. He would not raise a talon to me, and I will stop him no matter what.

"Hum..." And this was why she didn't like to think too much about these kinds of things- there was this unfortunate human tendency of overcomplicating matters. Mictecath held such a simple yet profound view of the world that Nyara couldn't help but be swept up in her confidence and strength. "Well, I'll shield you from anything that goes awry. But you know- you can't just go around pouncing on people until they do what you say."

I'm fairly certain that's exactly how the world works. Mic answered, in wry amusement. Her tail gave another slight flick, before settling to coil once more around her rider.  

[Sweet Symmetry]

Attention drifted, as it was wont to do. Not Nyara’s, whose steady certainty in the future glued her to an ever-shifting horizon. Colours bled from gold to yellow, dawn breaking through the distant, gathering storm clouds.

But Mic’s slid. She became aware of her brother’s presence nearby, and with the slightest shift of her head turned to hold him in her vision.

It was said the sound of a breaking heart was unique to every person who suffered its pain. A dragon’s death keen was a terrible, soul-rending, bone-shaking cry. But this boy… this human- his heart broke in a single shrill cry of loss. Mic wanted to forget it so desperately- everytime she was reminded of Aureliath, the cry revisited her… and this man was connected to them. Lovers, Nyara had explained. Human hearts joined, not dissimilar to rider and dragon.

Nyara lifted a reassuring hand to stroke the warm, golden maw beside her face. It was an automatic reaction- Mic’s sorrow seeped into their bond, and the young woman plucked it away from her. The balm of her own love was applied to Mic’s own bleeding heart…

I cannot… no words… It was rare for the young queen to be so uncertain. Nyara tensed, desperate to assuage her fear and sadness. She glanced over at K’ell, then resolved herself. If he had truly wanted to be alone, he wouldn't have sat near enough to be seen… or so she told herself.

She picked herself up, shivering for real as movement reminded her that she was still wet and it was still cold, then plopped down beside him.

For a moment, Nyara stayed silent… no words... She wrapped her arms around her knees once more, resting her chin upon them. “I'm sorry for your loss.” The words had an awful, jarring sound in the quiet sir around them. Ugly, dirty words. Mic lifted her head, watching in silence, drawn to the love and affection she felt swell in her rider’s heart.

“I didn't know him very well… but I'd like to remember him better. Why don't you tell me about him?” The words drifted away, not quite as hollow or as empty as their predecessors. There was a sense of keenness that resonated within them, a vibration of her own desire to reach out and help. Nyara resisted the desire to wrap an arm around him- she was cold and damp, and he hardly knew her from any other stranger… but Mic got to her feet and padded over.

She inclined her head to Eskharath first, then attempted to give K’ell a reassuring shoulder pat- which looked rather more like she might have been trying to half-sit in his lap. Her eyes, tinged with worry, slid from his face and back to his brown dragon. She moved back slightly, then sat beside her brother, resting against him in silent and stalwart company.

“Mr Cheri”

I'm assuming they're sat down, but I could be wrong! =] Always happy to edit if need be.

 

[Sweet Symmetry]

Nyaranau [HR] - 19 - she/her/hers - Weyrling of Gold Mictecath

“Didn’t like pirates…” Nyara echoed, a hint of a smile in her voice. It would probably fall flat, she suspected, but one had to try. That was the way of it, really. The only way to get past tears was with laughter- otherwise what was the point? “There’s a story behind that… but a story for another day, no doubt.” This time, Nya didn’t hesitate. As K’ell buried his head in his dragon, she placed a cold, damp arm around his shoulder. It would be easy to shrug off- no pain, no hard feelings… but she wanted him to know that she would be there- despite all of her ignorance and unfamiliarity.

Mictecath struggled to repress her desire to keen, glancing from her brown brother to his rider. Then, deciding it simply wouldn’t do to watch him cry and break like that, she moved from Eskharath’s side and rested her head on K’ell’s shoulder.

“We’re here for you, and if you want us to go we can do that too. It doesn’t bother us.” Nyaranau told him softly, feeling Mictecath’s gentle warmth in her mind even as she spoke the words. Siblings and family- suddenly Mic had thrust her into the core of this huge weyrling group and expected her to love them all. Well- love was an infinite resource, that was true- but learning to put others first… that would be the tricky part.

Mr Cheri

 

[Sweet Symmetry]

Mr Cheri

Nyara waited. She watched. She held him in that awkward way, tiptoeing along the border between wanting to be affectionate and giving a grieving man some privacy and space. “Maybe you can ask Fianth to share her memory with Eskharath? You can keep Aureliath and Shin alive in your heart and mind.” She tried to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, but perhaps her grip was too firm… maybe she was overstepping?

As K’ell worked through those haunting, pain-ridden thoughts, Nyara bit her lower lip. The anxiousness of wanting to do him well weighed on her mind. This wasn’t how she had anticipated starting her morning- but every day was a surprise. And with the hatching- and tragedy- so fresh… it was hard to think of any solution at all. Grief had to be felt. Pain, too… everything had its time and place under the sun.

But when he spoke of his own wish, Nyara felt a flicker of anger, too, and shook her head with vigor that sent damp curls flying. “No, not at all. Don’t think that. It would have been far better if the tragedy were avoided altogether.” She tried for another reassuring press of her arm against his shoulder. “But your life is important too. Eskharath wouldn’t be here were it not for you.” She gave the brown a sidelong glance, hoping he might help support her words.

Maybe Eskharath would have found another suitable rider- maybe not… certainly, Aureliath seemed to make a case for only wanting one… a little pinch of doubt in her heart made her grit her teeth as she thought of Mictecath Impressing another…

Of course not… I knew from the start… Mic’s soft and gentle voice was reassurance and light, a balm on this cold and sorrowful morning.

As K’ell curled into himself, Nyara found her heart growing heavier with wanting to help him. There was no cure for heartbreak, and no way to go back and change the past…

So she did the only thing she could think of doing, then and there… which, really, come to think of it, was quite stupid:

She got to her feet, turned slightly to face the water, then, with a practiced hand, doused the young man with a splash. “Come on- what you need right now is some klah, and I’m not going to bodily haul you to the kitchens. I’ll walk with you, though.” A pause, where she donned her most winning smile. “Come on, K’ell.” Her voice was one of a beastcrafter tending to her errant charge, and though soothing as she tried to be, she wasn’t sure it would work on the man. He might hate her- and shards, she probably deserved it. She wasn’t suffering like he was. She hadn’t felt his pain. And she’d just made him wet and cold.

But she wasn’t going to let him cry himself into a state of nothingness. He needed help, like it or not. And she was going to try and offer it to him no matter what.