chesneycat

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt #95 - "New Year"

Benden’s annual Turnover festivities were in full swing, but for some reason F’lessan simply wasn’t enjoying himself. Well… if he thought about it, there were several reasons— all of them female. The ones he wanted to dance with were treating him like a tunnelsnake, while the ones he didn’t kept appearing at the most inopportune moments. Remembering an old argument, he reached out to his dragon.

Golanth, tell me Mirrim wasn’t right? Please?

About your reputation?

What else?

Dryly, Golanth reminded him that Turnover was the traditional time for turning over new leaves, and that perhaps he should consider it...

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #90: "It"

It gets to everyone, eventually: fearful, brave, bronze, green - provided they live long enough to realise it.  The lucky ones do so in weyrlinghood, while they're still young and only responsible for themselves.  A good weyrlingmaster can rebuild the shattered nerves of the young.

Thread.  It gets to most riders then, but not all.

It can wait.  Thread doesn't care.  It's indiscriminate. Unstoppable. For every spore you flame, millions remain.  Just one of them's enough to kill you, maim you, steal your weyrmate, friends, family.

You can't defeat it.

Thread will fall, hungering mindlessly, for the rest of your life.

I've just had a rather interesting review for this drabble over on the Pit of Voles.

The review goes thusly:
Most of these stories are very believable. This one, chap 79, is not. Hatchlings don't attack those they don't choose unless that person stands in their way while searching for or making their way to their rider. The little queen would lock eyes with the candidate and then, upon not finding what she was looking for, ignore the girl and continue to search for her lifemate. She wouldn't take time to attack the girl. These babies hatch *hungry* and want to find their food provider as quick as possible.

Oh. Dear.

That particular drabble?  Describes the hatching of probably the most famous queen dragon on Pern.

*attempts to smother giggles*

*fails*

Tell it to Anne, dearie.  But you'd better hurry, because the failboat leaves in the next five minutes....

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #91: "Birthday"

It's Felessan's birthingday, and the small boy is shrieking with laughter as he plays with his friends in the mud. F'lar hears, but doesn't see; he's watching Lessa instead, the hard control in her eyes as she smiles.

When Fax took her parents, her siblings, everyone she knew and loved... then, she knew exactly what to do. Brought Ruatha to its knees, and Fax to his ruin. But this? Utterly powerless, he knows she aches for them terribly, the siblings that Felessan will never know.

It's an old grief now, but she still doesn't know what to do with it.

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #93: "Thanksgiving"

"There's something you're not telling me."

"Not my place," F'nor said, shaking his head. "Drink up your Klah, T'bor; F'lar wants us."

The bronzerider eyed him suspiciously as they left the lower caverns. Thread was falling tomorrow, and the seventy-odd exhausted riders just returned from the south were hardly the reinforcements F'lar so desperately needed. And F'nor was smiling!

Halfway across the bowl, T'bor caught sight of the Weyr's rim and pulled F'nor to a halt. "Those aren't Benden bronzes!"

"No, they're Lessa's reinforcements."

"Reinforcements?" Confused, elated, T'bor stared in wonder.

Thank Faranth, maybe they'd survive the Pass after all!

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #73: "Light"

K'van stands proudly, free of his crutches at last.  He's still the smallest in the class and has a lot of catching up to do, but he's determined to do just as well as the others in today's drill.

The Weyrlingmaster beckons him forward, and gestures for another lad to pick up the waiting sack of firestone. It's barely enough for a green, but it looks pretty big from K'van's perspective, and even bigger and heavier as it hurtles through the air towards him.

A sack that size ought to feel light, easy... but he wonders if it ever will.

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #92: "Christmas"

He sat silently in the weyrling barracks, trying not to cast envious glances at the other lads, with their new clothes and sweet pastries and letters from home. Or the weyrbred, for whom this was home, and nothing was missing.

He didn't regret being here, couldn't regret Impressing his Fenwith at all! It was only when Fenwith slept, like now, that the loneliness crept in. Homesickness, he supposed.

"Hey, boy."

He looked up, wondering if something had come for him with the tithe train after all.

Saw his parents, his little sister.


Oh, this would be the best Turnover ever!

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #88: "He"

S'ron has spent the morning quietly, away from his fellow weyrlings, oiling Yaarath's hide until it holds its bright green gleam even when the sun goes in. She's almost a turn, and though she won't be the first of her clutchmates to rise, it'll be her first time, and S'ron's.

He's feeling rather apprehensive, to be honest. Her clutchmates will chase, maybe some of the older weyrlings, but S'ron is hoping for someone else. B'nisk, a brownrider who probably thinks of S'ron as a weyrling with a crush... if he knows S'ron exists at all.

He's the one S'ron wants.

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #72: "Fixed"

D'merren sits on the ground, his eyes fixed on nothing at all. Jennulth's eyes, all whites and reds, seem to be the only part of this silent tableau that show any movement at all. Even the lad's breathing is shallow, as he wills his mind shut, sealing himself away from what they've witnessed.

It takes the weyrlings like this, sometimes, the first time they stare death in the face.

H'koll crouches beside him, letting Ruarnoth reassure the young blue as best she can, until one of the queens can help.

"Lad? Look at me lad. You're back now, safe again."

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #84: "Found"


He used to play at Dragonriding.

He was always the first Searched, and invariably Impressed bronze. In their games of Threadfighting, slashing at the Hold's greenery with sticks, he was the wingleader, valiant and brave. And when Searchriders came for real, why, no-one was surprised to see him singled out!

Back at the Hold, he'd been larger than life, a leader of his peers. But at the Weyr, it seemed he was just another candidate, no-one special at all.

All of those games of dragons on Search.... Not one of them prepared you properly for life after you'd been found.

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #69: "Thunder"

The thunder finds me in my dreams.

I think it's just a storm at first, until I start to pick out the staccato beats of words, the rumbling, echoing message beneath the clouds. We're too far from any Hold for it to be real, but this is a dream, and I'm not in Igen Weyr any more. I'm in the Hold's drumtower, and the message, the message...


My family is dead. All of them.

Weeping, I wake to thunder, and my dragon's whirling red eyes.


There was a message for you while you slept, he tells me. I'm so sorry.

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #68: "Lightning"

Standing alone in the downpour, he kicked at the smoldering embers, and felt like throwing up.  Throughout the long, hot summer, the Weyr had taken so much care fighting Thread over the tinder-dry woodlands.  Mis-timed flame or simple falling char could cause more damage than a single Thread-burrow, so they'd flown as high as they'd dared, catching every last Thread well before Telgar's extensive woodlands could be threatened.

But the much-needed rains had arrived too late.  The first storms had brought high winds and lightning, nature's fury spreading devastation over many miles.

All that effort, for nothing.

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #77: "Paralysis"

Brekke had never seen Lessa so desperate. F'lar would find a way to go, unless... someone went in his stead.  And she knew, Faranth, how she knew, Pern couldn't lose him! 

Paralysed, she watched all the pieces fall inevitably into place.  Meron, the firelizards, F'nor's self-sacrifcing courage, and above it all, Lessa's desperate need.  She could feel the woman's turmoil through Ramoth, her grief and self-hatred as she leaned on F'nor...

Her eyes held Brekke's own, all fire and determination.  And her soul cried out for forgiveness.

"I understand, Lessa," Brekke said.

Allowing the only possible choice to be made.

Weyr Life Drabbles - Prompt word #87: "Life"

"One is always more sorry for the things one didn't do, than the things one has done."

He'd spoken out of the blue, but somehow, she understood why. "You weren't just here to see Hannath and I? Or to tell me Nerilka's news? What is it, Alessan?"

"It's today. The ging trees will be flowering on Ista... and..."

"And Moreta will be there," she finished, dry-mouthed.

He nodded, eyes tightly closed. "I wanted... if I could go back... but she was right. I'm alive again, happy, even. And I feel so guilty... for living, and for ever wanting not to."

Weyr Life Drabbles - Prompt word #66: "Rain"

For the fifth time that week, Cloudburst Wing emerged from between into the middle of a heavy downpour. F'ren checked the mist-clad landmarks of eastern Tillek's hills, gauged the prevailing winds, and decided that tomorrow's trivial order from the Weyrleader would most likely send them to Theyf Hold, or maybe the winecrafthall beside it.

Another chance for his wingmen to be soaked to the skin, letting all those petty resentments grow, encouraging the best riders to seek transfers... to think he'd thanked Sh'vek for confirming his promotion!

Well, if nothing else, at least the rain was washing away his illusions.

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #63: "Summer"

Summer had never seemed further away, Rahnis thought, shoveling another drift of snow out of Alaireth's weyr and over the edge of the ledge. By her reckoning, it was almost noon - late enough to turn every dragon on the Weyr's rim golden in the sunlight. The ground-level weyrs hadn't seen any sun in weeks, but she supposed she should be glad that it was shining at all. No more snow for a few days... just the biting cold instead. She could freeze in place here in the High Reaches, forever unchanging, waiting for a summer that would never come again.

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #60: "Drink"

She'd not been a candidate of his choosing, but he'd welcomed her, taught her all she needed...  And what did the infuriating creature do?  Throw herself at F'lar, and all R'gul's carefully managed plans into disarray. F'lar certainly couldn't manage the Lords Holder, not after killing one of them, even if it was Fax!  The man was untried, perversely insistent that Thread would return, yes, utterly lacking in credibility.  Oh, he'd have his work cut out for him steering the Weyr through this calamity, until Hath could set things right again... 

R'gul sighed in desperation, and poured himself another drink.

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #70: "Storm"

Impression had been but a momentary pause in the whirlwind of the day's events, Lessa realised. 

Feeding her hungry queen was little different to feeding Ruath's old wher, but the bonding of mind to mind had left her off-balance.  While Ramoth slept in the weyr that was apparently theirs, she was given no chance to adjust, and instead dragged off to meet and greet and eat once more.  A cacophony of unfamiliarity filled the cavern, threatening to overwhelm her...

No, that wouldn't do at all.

She was Ruathan, of the Blood! 

She was the calm in eye of the storm.

Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #76: "Rebirth"

She ate, without appetite. Listened, without caring. Lived... no, not that.

The painfully hot sands were a welcome distraction from her pain, perhaps enough to mask her grief from the hatchlings. It seemed it was, for the young queen was moving inexorably towards her, wanting her, ignorant of her emptiness and all too prepared to follow Wirenth and lose her self in the between of Brekke's soul.

Could she forget Wirenth, find herself anew in the fragments? What a terrible possibility! She wouldn't choose it, couldn't, but could she stop it?


And then Berd was there, guiding her safely home.

Weyr Life Drabbles - Prompt word #71: "Broken"

There were too many candidates in Benden Weyr. Soon, the dragons would break shell to choose their lifemates. Eight times, he'd seen it. He was so afraid that this time would be no different. He was better than all these babes... wasn't he?

Beterli watched in sickened fascination as the boy fell slowly backwards over the barrow, still clinging on to his shovel. His head struck its rim, then the whole thing toppled, blackrock and metal clattering noisily onto the ground. Almost loud enough to mask the sound of breaking bones, but not quite.

It was the sound of dreams breaking.