[PRP] An Audience of One [Zyamel/Marty + Dergs]

[demon_pachabel]

While not larger than any of the greens yet, Anakumath's size was already beginning to allow her to act as a seat for Martirae, who had found a comfortable spot on her lifemate's foreleg, their heads tucked together in some silent conversation between themselves in their wallow of the barracks. Martirae had come to appreciate the distance that some felt they had to give her, even when her lifemate warmly welcomed all to draw closer, like a rock that hid something venomous underneath it, ready to bite at the throat. Her lack of trust in a place full of strangers had only grown even as the young gold kneaded at her sharp ends and tried to clean up the broken glass to make something smoother - kinder.

They mean no harm, love, and you can surely afford their friendship, Anakumath had said those words so many times that it was perhaps surprising they had done little to dent in Marty's walls. Perhaps the yellow feelings that constantly rumbled across their bond did more to reinforce than soothing did to tear them down. I'll know that for sure when I see it. I am not so certain, though she kept the part where she suspected many saw the young gold long before they even considered her a secret to herself. There was already enough song and dance they performed on a daily basis around that and she was not going to add to it if her life depended on it.

Perhaps there would have been more trust if she'd known more of them before that single moment that had brought all of the world into her, like color into spring trees and the flowers that grew across Western.

While Anakumath would have never faulted her beloved for being perhaps a little homesick - she'd been reminded by a few hasty mouths that she was from Western in the same breath they'd mentioned a certain mouthy bronze before they caught sight of her lifemate and backpedaled - but such solitude simply wouldn't do. No, she'd pull at one of those trusted few bonds just a little bit to see about lightening her dour mood just a bit.

Venandith, I feel I have not been honored with seeing you in some time. Would it be imposing for me to wish for your company? Zyamel seemed a perfect fit for lightening things up a bit.

Uta

 

[Uta]

demon_pachabel

Sorry for my forever slowness. ;0;

Zyamel still hadn't gotten over the fact that she had finally--finally--found her match. The woman was still head-over-heels for her beloved brown, who was everything she could have hoped for, and more. Now that she shared Venandith's thoughts, feelings, love, and constant support, she wondered how she had managed almost twenty Turns without. Though she had grown up in the Weyr and had heard stories of Impression, and the changes that came with it, the words weren't enough. It was often called indescribable, but even that wasn't enough.... Her entire life, her very being, had changed the moment Venandith called to her, the moment their eyes finally met. There wasn't anything about him she would change, and he loved her even more than he loved himself... There were no secrets between them; there was nothing but love.

To say she was besotted was an understatement. Her dreams of Impressing a fighting dragon had finally come true, and Zyamel felt unstoppable. Where she once thought she'd have a lifelong partner in a feisty green, she was now one of High Reaches newest brownriders. Sometimes she wondered if V'mel, her father, judged her for such an Impression; was he proud? Was he upset? Did he even care? The man supported her as was his way, but they weren't exactly closely bonded. Perhaps more importantly, Zyamel wondered how her mother felt. Zheria had congratulated her that night, and had even taken a moment to stroke Venandith's cheek... but her time had been limited. The Weyrwoman, after all, had needed to congratulate some of the other weyrlings, particularly the newest gold riders. But a small part of her wondered if the woman was pleased or disappointed by the outcome... On the one hand, Impressing a brown had been more than Zyamel had expected; it opened up new doors, it gave her more rank, and it meant she could even one day become Wingsecond. Surely, her mother couldn't be disappointed in her lifemate.

As if anyone could be disappointed in as good a looking brown as me. I am perfection incarnate--no egg could clutch a more superior specimen. Venandith's words nudged the girl out of her thoughts. His words were full of warmth and humor, and no little amount of arrogance. We are a perfect team. Let Pern say what it wants of it; we needn't listen or bow down to any. And that, was the truth.

Zyamel grinned, reaching up to scratch lovingly at the brown's massive head. We needn't bow down to any, but we'll follow orders...at least until we're the ones making them. You'd like that, wouldn't you? To help lead a Wing?

The large brown gave a snort, even as he nuzzled His. I wouldn't need the assistance. I could lead one on my own and do a fine better job than some of the current Wingleaders out there. But I needn't be cruel... I can simply show them up once we take to the air.

"Ah, someday, love. Someday. Until then, don't forget we're all on the same team. We can bide our time, and so long as we're bringing down Thread, that's all that matters, eh?"

But before the brown answered, his eyes changed color for just a moment, whirling a touch faster. Zyamel felt the change in her lifemate before he spoke. We are needed, Mine. Come, let us find Anakumath and Hers. And if the brown sounded particularly smug, Zyamel wasn't surprised. Venandith so did rather love to be needed.

Everything okay? She asked, pushing herself from the edge of her cot, and giving an idle stretch. The weyrling Barracks were (thankfully) much larger and more spread out than the Candidate Barracks, and offered more room for the dragons and their riders. Finding Anakumath wasn't difficult, given the size of the gold, and her rich golden hide.

She simply wishes for my presence. He assured His, giving a stretch of his wings, and looking more than a little smug. To Anakumath, the brown spoke. It is never an imposition, lovely Anakumath. Why shouldn't you pine for the company of the finest dragon Pern has to offer? I am yours to amuse yourself with as long as you please. The brown dragon made his way easily over to where Ana and her rider had found themselves.

He rumbled a happy greeting to the gold, reaching his head out expectantly so he might brush it against her own. Martirae was all but ignored by the brown... but not by Zyamel, who followed.

Grinning in her usual feral fashion, the dark haired girl smirked with her usual amusement. "Well met, Martirae," she purred in her usual fashion. "This arrogant blockhead seems to think Anakumath desired a little company... Figured I'd come chaperone in case it was unsolicited."  

[demon_pachabel]

As Venandith stirred to his feet, Martirae watched - waiting. Not an uncommon sight, taking in all of the others in constant silent judgement as they came and went. A few steps in their direction, however, and she looked up towards Anakumath, barely masking a tired look.

Why?

She didn't dislike the rest of the Weyrlings, overall, and Zyamel was pleasant enough company, but Anakumath invited company to herself with little hesitation and no expectations of them. If she hadn't been so full of love for her, Martirae would have suspected it was because she simply wasn't doing enough for her. But her existence could only do so much for the needs of an entire other being.

Anakumath dipped her head to nudge the side of her beloved's in a silent answer, before stretching her neck out to brush her snout and cheek against Venandith's as he drew closer. Ah, you are kind to make time for me when there are so many others so deserving of it, more than herself, she knew. You are looking well. Tell me, how are lessons treating you and yours?

Shifting from the gold's leg to her feet so that her lifemate could move to better give her undivided attention to Venandith, Martirae shrugged. "She did - all the better," if simply invaded, it would have been a much more stressful ordeal for the anxious gold. She'd found she didn't much care for that vicegrip of a feeling. "I doubt you could pry him away now even if she didn't," though it was a joke as she looked between the pair of dragons.

Uta

 

[Uta]

demon_pachabel

Venandith was only too happy to have been invited, and there was a pleasant-smugness about the brown as he neared. Then again, there almost always seemed to be a smugness about the dragon, whether Anakumath was near or not. Still, his eyes whirled a bright green-blue, and he gave a happy rumble when the gold brushed her snout against his cheek. He made sure to give the gold any space she wished, but settled nearby, with a wing half-open in case the anxious gold desired a little cuddle. Even if she didn't, Venandith had no qualms showing off for any other wandering eyes in the Barracks. He was the best, after all, and his wings were quite large and welcoming.

How good of you to recognize my qualities, He mused, giving a happy thrum. But truly, golden one, it is nothing. You are as deserving of my time as any of our clutchmates and I am more than happy to share this moment with you. It also helped that no one else was demanding his time. Surely, Anakamuath needn't worry.

Once he was certain she was settled, he considered her words. Lessons are treating us quite well. I grow stronger everyday, as you can no doubt see. If he craned his neck just so, or sat in such a fashion that his great bulk might best be witnessed by the young gold, he clearly didn't do so on purpose. Ok, so he did, but at this point in Venandith's life, he couldn't move an inch without showing off. It was as natural to him as breathing. I am particularly keen to fly with Mine and begin to flame. The Enemy will certainly find no fiercer a foe than I. And what of You and Yours? You are both looking well and radiant, though we don't get nearly as much of your time as when we were younger. Gold lessons meant the two were as much away as they were with the rest, and Venandith did notice the loss. But he supposed a queen had her own duties and roles to fulfill.

Zyamel, for her part, only smiled. Like rider like dragon, the two were peas in a pod. His arrogance matched her own, and their natures fit well with one another. The fact that someone had asked for Venandith's attention pleased her almost as much as it did him. "He's known to put his snout into situations its not wanted," she admitted with a grin, "But I'd rather not have to tell him off. You think he's difficult to deal with when he's in a good mood, just wait until he's sulking or offended." She loved her dragon above all else, but she also wasn't blind. She knew that some in her class found him to be a headache... But he was Hers, and even with his flaws, he was perfect.

"How's life on the metallic side?" She asked, glancing around to see if there were any seats she could pull up, or places to settle. Martirae had been nicely curled up with Anakumath, and she hated to force the other to stand. "You both look well. Won't be long now before we're out of the Barracks and into our own weyrs." And oh Faranth Zyamel couldn't wait. There was much she was keen on learning, and doing; drills were great, but soon they'd be learning to fly, and to jump Between, and all the things that actually made a dragonrider a rider. She was gnawing at the bit, ready to serve, even with all the risks and pain that would go along with it.  

[demon_pachabel]

With every step of Venandith's posing, Anakumath seemed to take extra care to look him over appreciatively. He was easily keeping pace with most of their clutchmates, only a few of the bronzes showing signs of being larger than him. Perhaps that would change, but even now it was clear he'd give them a run for it all. Shifting carefully, and dislodging Martirae from where she'd been sitting, the young gold moved to tuck herself under the offered wing.

I should hope they all get as much of your time as they deserve, then, showing off or not, Venandith had enough gusto to pull the herd if he so chose - set the bar so those who wished to challenge it could and those who didn't want such limelight could safely keep their pace according to it. Not everybody wanted to be on the frontline, and his eagerness (or perhaps ego, though she'd have never called it such) certainly made any room feel a touch less intimidating. Let those more deserving have the attention, as far as she cared.

While somewhere in her would be the territorial spirit of a gold, when time came to be forced away from home so another would own the sky for a time, it had yet to both her she had to share her lessons with Mictecath. It was better for her that way. We have found where we will fit in all things. It perhaps will not be as glorious as your flames...but it is a good spot to have that no other can. I should think you'll fly so spectacularly there will never be need for you to be caught. In truth, while she knew she would someday have to, Anakumath didn't much like the idea of any of her weyrsiblings - whether born of Eveleth's line or not - would have to be rescued from a fall. But it was the better option.

Dethroned, Martirae pat Anakumath's side as the gold changed position, hand lingering longer than it should have. To love someone so much it made her heart ache was a new feeling even a few months in. "I doubt she'd turn him away even if he had invited himself over," she mused, looking between the two dragons. Mostly at her own in all of her perfection. She didn't even have it in her to feel bad for those who had not been bonded to her - Martirae would have torn them all down to keep her if challenged. She had a feeling Zyamel would have said the same of Venandith as well, though.

"It's full of hands-on work - but all the better," if they couldn't serve at the top, they would be a power support at the bottom of it all. "I don't think I'll ever fancy myself much of a healer, but they're at least making sure if I have to I can get things started." Martirae liked to think she had a cool enough head to be able to handle that responsibility in the moment. She had to be able to handle it in the moment, no hesitation. "I think the boys will be appreciating not having to be packed in so tightly, hmm?" while there were a few girls with browns, the large majority of big dragons were in the other barrack. "Some room to spread out will be nice." She'd never had a lot of space to herself. What would she do with it all?

Uta

 

[Uta]

Venandith was pleased with this arrangement, even as Martirae was forced to move. The brown dragon was more than content to keep the gold tucked nicely beneath his wing. Certainly, he could shield her from any unwanted attention if she wished time to herself; he could also happily drape his wing across her more like a blanket, if she felt more confident and sure. Either way, Venandith got what he wanted, which was, as always, to be the centerpiece. Any attention was good attention, as far as he was concerned.

My flames might be glorious, but rest assured, dear Anakumath, your position and role ensures the future. We both were hatched to serve our Weyr in our own unique ways, and I feel are best suited to said roles. As timid as Anakumath might be, she would not face the worst of Threadfall. She would be able to comfort, love, and support those who were wounded or injured, and she would be able to worry over those who needed it. Venandith wasn’t really a worrier, but he was a warrior. He could not wait to begin to fight Threadfall; could not wait to burn the Enemy, to put his flame to good use, and his bulk as a shield. He would fight, and he would win, though he knew well his ichor would fall. His future was one riddled with ichor, blood, and almost guaranteed death.

It would be glorious. Not for the praise that he was certain would come, but to save those who could not. It was his purpose, his life’s being--and he was going to look damn good doing it.

Ah, I shall dazzle while on wing, of this I’m certain. But if the Enemy does take a bite from my wings, at least you might remember them before they’re scarred, punctured, and torn. And if I must fall, at least you, and Mictecath, and the other golds might be my wings. I trust you not to let me fall. He stated with both humor and sincerity.

Zyamel gave a small shake of her head and rueful grin when Martirae spoke of her experiences. “I have no doubt you’ll be capable. What better hands to be in than yours, eh?” She mused in her usual flirtatious fashion. “Honestly, the more people who can help, the better. Even if you’re just doing what you can, you’ll be saving lives.” A few seconds was the difference between life and death. Even if Martirae wasn’t a natural, just getting a wound washed out, a rider dunked, a dragon lathered in redwort… It could mean a great deal of difference for the injured. “Honesly, I can’t wait to see you with a flamethrower though,” She confessed, her usual feral grin sharpening her features. “Anakumath might not flame, but you can.” Having seen her mother’s, and even picked it up a few times during her younger Turns, she could only imagine what Martirae would look like wielding it. Not that Zyamel would likely ever see, given their positions. “Makes up for all the hidework I’m sure you’ll be drowning in.”

Running a Weyr was no easy task and that meant a lot of hidework to track everything and keep records of accountability.

“I think the boys will definitely appreciate the space. They’re getting so big, and still have months left to grow. Granted, I’ll miss getting to see all the beauties when I wake up first thing,” she mused with a laugh, “But having my own weyr means a few more freedoms, a lot more privacy, and a mark closer to fighting the good fight.” It was a horrible fight, really. The devastation, the damage, the pain… But someone had to do it. Zyamel was one of those someone’s. She was no fool, she wasn’t in it for heroics, she knew it would be terrifying and devastating. But she was a dragonrider, born of rider blood, and she had lived and breathed duty from the very first. This wasn’t just her duty, but her destiny, and she was far more suited to a fighting dragon than a queen, any day.

”demon_pachabel”

 

[demon_pachabel]

In turn, Anakumath enjoyed being tucked up next to Venandith. If only such proximity would give her more of his confidence to make up for all of it she gave away to the others who seemed to need it more.

Even scarred, punctured, or torn it will be easy to see them as strong - they're your wings, so how could they not be? but she didn't much like the idea of picturing him ripped from the sky for her and the others to catch. She'd be there in a heartbeat, of course. When it came time she would catch and care for all who fell to her and she would carry them safely. It simply wasn't ideal - she wanted Venandith and all of their siblings to thrive, fly, flame, and make Thread pay l, rather than their flesh and blood.

We will all be great - I must speak it into being. she would see no others be lost.

Marty couldn't help but smirk back - Zyamel had likely seen more smiles than anybody who wasn't seeing ones aimed solely at Anakumath. "A proper healers - but you'll all have to make due with mine for at least a while," she took herself so seriously that the responsibility was something close to soothing. It broke up a potential tunnel vision of tasks by making her alert between many.

"The flamethrowers are something. Heavier than I expected, but something about having one in hand makes me feel powerful," more than any 'power' she may have recieved for her rank. It could be pointed at something and make it pay - not that Thread was conscious and capable of appreciating that. "It's the reverse of your own situation," but there were no complaints. "The hidework is hardly the worst thing I could be put to - but I certainly prefer the flamethrower."

They were all inching ever closer to that good fight - the cost of what freedom one could have with a dragon. "I can hardly imagine you not falling asleep in a pile of gorgeous women with your own space. You'll have plenty if beauties to see." And Marty would enjoy privacy for the first time in her life.

Uta

ONE YEAR LATER