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Post by Administrator on Jan 29, 2009 7:12:19 GMT -5
Shmee poured herself another glass of wine. She was alone in the dining hall. S’rei was with Shei, wasn’t he? She smiled. She loved how he loved being with their baby. It also gave her a night to enjoy some wine. A new shipment of Benden white had arrived from the holds. Shmee, like any good Weyrwomen would do, was sampling it first. She chuckled. Just testing it for poison, she thought drolly. That was always her excuse. Nobody else had broken into the wine yet, so this excuse might actually hold up this time. Casually stroking Arlo as she raised her glass to her lips, she paused. Maybe, when she went back, she could see if S'rei was willing to try having another child again. Shei could use a sibling... The thought made her fill with joy as she happily downed her wine. Yes. A sibling for Shei. They needed more offspring, and that was a sure fact. Now, how to convince him of doing that...
Mine, I think some of that wine has gone to your head,[/color] Aslath rumbled in amusement. Remember how painful it is to clutch?[/color]
"Yes, but it's so worth it," she said sleepily. "Remember how nice it is to watch your children grow up around you?"
Yes, but I do not like having to push them out of a small hole in my body,[/color] Aslath pointed out. It's worse for me, though. I have to do more than you do.[/color]
Shmee let out a small giggle. This wine was making her all amused with life... and sleepy. It had been too long since she had enjoyed wine, she reasoned. Her body wasn't used to it. She took another sip. "Soon, Shei will be talking like an actual human being," she commented. "More than the babblings she does now. Though, someone taught her how to curse, apparently. I bet it was Laurie... Laurie always does things like that..."
In her mind's eye, she could see Shei and S'rei together. And Aslath and Salenth were in the background... And little Miguel was there in the dream, too! She smiled distantly. "So sweet," she murmured. "I love having a family. I'd love more."
Mine, are you feeling all right?[/color] Aslath asked uncertainly. Hers was drifting in and out...
"Really would love it," she mumbled, a wide smile breaking out over her face. Then wordlessly, yet gracefully, she slumped in her seat, with her bright smile frozen on her delicate features. In fact, she looked just as if she were sleeping.
Aslath was the one who broke the fantasy of sleep. With a heartbroken keen, the great golden queen of Selenitas pushed herself into the air, winking between. She would follow Hers wherever she went-- even into death. Arlo, as soundlessly as ever, also leaped off of Shmee's cold shoulder, disappearing instantly. Still, Shmee continued to smile her eerie, unmoving smile. She was already long between.
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Post by nightingale on Jan 29, 2009 13:02:45 GMT -5
The sound of a dragon screaming was enough to freeze anyone’s heart into a lump of painfully throbbing ice, but the chorus of wounded voices that called out after the gold singer's departure was what truly marked the event as tragic.
Shocked beyond grief as he listened to the great sobbing notes rising from Jaymith’s throat, Ke’rin could only press himself against his dragon’s neck and try to force himself to understand. Aslath had just jumped Between. That meant that Shmee...Weyrwoman Shmee was dead...but how could that be? Were they under attack? Gone. Was the only response that the distraught little bronze would offer him, his voice barely a whisper. Our queen is gone Mine.
Lamb keened pitifully as she fluttered onto the boy’s shoulder, present both out of concern for her mindmates and because Rascal's sweet warblings were no longer enough to comfort her. The little greened pressed herself against the boy's neck as she often had in her early life, eyes whirling the dull grey-blues of acute sorrow as she crooned a high counterpoint to her older brother’s grief. Kei simply kelt there, holding both of them and trying to remember to breathe. All throughout Selenitas Weyr, the haunting screams of dragons and their kin rose into the thick night air. Cherilith’s may not have been the strongest or most beautiful voice among them, but his fervent cries carried through the night oblivious to their obscurity. Saeo clung to the little blue, tears of horrified distress staining her cheeks. She would have liked to write it all off as a horrible dream, but the constant press of Cherilith’s mind on her own cut her off from such fantasies.
"Oh pity be...she's gone...Raylin, she's gone."
The girl moaned, pressing her face into the warm hide of her dragon's chest and sobbing brokenly. Even Freckle chirped with intermittent distress, pacing the length of the bed with an anxious gleam in her large yellow eyes. Someone had got the big shineypest? No no no! Showoff hadn’t meant that, had he? Get them didn’t mean get them, did it? It was only the cat who didn’t quite understand what was going on. She lay sprawled across her owner's bed just out of Freckle's striking range, her lashing tail signaling her dislike of all the noise.
But then, she was only a cat after all.
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Avu
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Posts: 2,439
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Post by Avu on Jan 29, 2009 16:04:56 GMT -5
Keening.
Now, why would the entire Weyr be keening? T'rid rubbed his eyes, glancing questioningly at Corinth, but the bronze was paying him no attention. His entire focus was on a single point in the sky, and his body trembled with grief, the low moaning sound rumbling from his throat. It was vaguely familiar, as was the shades of shock, pain, and horror in the dragon's eyes. It couldn't be - not - "Deathsong?" The words hissed from his throat automatically, the Weyrleader springing to his feet as Corinth's grief struck him; the brief headache that started in the abrupt change of posture, combined with the force of the sadness that rushed through him, beyond comprehension, was enough to nearly make him nauseous, and for a moment, he gasped for breath, and then stared at Corinth. "Who is it? WHO IS IT?"
Our queen has left us, Corinth responded, his tones a mere breath of a whisper, low and miserable, contorted with his acute grief. Aslath... T'rid felt his blood freeze inside of him. Aslath meant Shmee, and there was no way that Aslath would have gone between for good unless Shmee died, or Benden had attacked and killed her. "Where? Where the hell was she, Corinth? What happened?" The demands came fast and tumbled over each other in his urgency to get them out. I don't know. I don't know...I don't know... The dragon's luminous eyes were covered by the first two sets of lids, and the great bronze curled up into a ball on the weyrledge, though the sobbing, wistful moan continued. His words broke and faltered into silence, and T'rid whipped around, swallowing hard.
He hated that he had to do this. But it was necessary. "CORINTH! GET YOUR BIG ASS OFF THE WEYRLEDGE THIS INSTANT AND LISTEN TO ME!" His bellow shocked the dragon, who recoiled from him, eyeing the Weyrleader reproachfully. T'rid bit his lip, fighting back the agonizing emotional pain that had him wanting to curl up as Corinth had been. "Alert the Weyr - !" They already know. How could they not? "Search! Damn it, Corinth, tell them to search! Where is she? Make them look for her! Now! Make them, don't let them rest until they find her! Make them, Corinth!" The bronze stared soundlessly at the young man, whose breath came fast as he tried to meet the great, jewel-faceted eyes. There was a moment where neither spoke, Corinth still keening, high and mournful, but then he spoke finally. I will tell them.
His keening broke off into a bellow for attention, and Corinth cringed inwardly at the interruption to the tribute. Dragons of Selenitas! His tenor tones rang out sharply in a Weyr-wide broadcast to the minds of the dragons. We need to get healers to the Weyrwoman immediately - find healers, find the Weyrwoman! "Corinth!" T'rid broke in. "Don't let them go alone!" If we must search, let no person search alone! the bronze affirmed to the rest of the Weyr, and then His had his arms circling the bronze's head, biting his lip until his teeth broke skin and he tasted bitter blood in his mouth. His eyes remained dry; it was as if a dam had been built, keeping back the tears that no doubt everyone else would shed that night. Stupid cocked his head, eyes gleaming anxiously. Shiny boom? he questioned softly, but neither mindmate answered the 'mandyr, and with a grating whimper, the brown curled up, trying to ignore the pervading sadness that swept through the Weyr.
T'rid sank down on the Weyrledge, bringing Corinth's head down with him, the bronze's eyes closed as something distressingly close to a whimper emerged from his throat. She's gone... the bronze stated softly. "It's not...not Benden?" There is no attack, Corinth confirmed warily. "Oh." T'rid said only the simple word, curling up tighter against Corinth and feeling the soft exhale of the dragon's breath. No attack; that meant that Shmee herself had died...which perhaps was merciful, for her; to live without one's dragon was to live a half-life, a broken life, but then - that meant - dead. She was dead? T'rid had never liked the goldrider, but that didn't necessarily...he swallowed convulsively, arms snaking around Corinth's neck as he leaned against the bronze's comforting bulk, unwilling to move. If only he could sleep here, and never wake up again...
She was dead...
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Rei
Administrator
Rider Cr'oph Rider Er'ani Rider Elysia Rider/Healer Erilena Wherhandler Sydney Holdbrat Emitre Holdbrat Dileina Weyrbrat Elias Weyrbrat Terilyn
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Posts: 3,021
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Post by Rei on Jan 29, 2009 17:11:02 GMT -5
Ebolath’s death keen woke Raylin from a sound sleep and she wasted no time in springing from her bed to hasten to her bonded’s side. The little green was precariously balanced on her hind legs neck stretched to it’s fullest crying out into the darkness. “Ebolath love what happened?” She asked breathless just as Saeo answered. “Gone who’s gone?” Aslath, Raymine, our Queen is dead, dead, dead. Ebolath said at last, sinking down onto all fours, eyes whirling a melancholy gray.
“No” Raylin said the word as a whisper and threw her arms around her dragon’s neck to comfort her. How could this be happening? Was it Benden? She would rather die than have something happen to Ebolath. Vega feeling the distress of the weyr fluttered down to press himself against his bonded’s neck eyes whirling in intense yellow and oranges. This was all wrong.
----
Kaaoloth screamed along with the rest of the dragons his color paling until it was a mere mockery of brown. Sel’n was at his dragons side in an instant. “Kaaoloth who, how?” Aslath mine. The name came in a heartbroken tone. Our senior queen has passed.
The brown rider stood mute, shocked. Not again. Unbidden, memories of Grenostith’s murder rose into his mind. Corinth says we must find the Weyrwoman. The brown said distantly and Sel’n nodded. They needed to give the weyr something to do. They needed to stay united until the next queen rose. How would be the prime time for an attack by Benden. They must stay alert.
----
Danar and Malara had awoken due to the keening dragons. They stood shocked into silence, with the rest of the candidates in their tree by the river. What in Faranth’s name was going on? The burly lad scanned the crowd and cleared his throat. “It’s alright everyone. We must not panic. I am sure a rider will soon come and let us know what’s happening.”
Malara turned to look at the boy and then fixed her gaze on the drying river. Somehow she doubted things would ever be the same. This night may very well spell doom for Selenitas.
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Post by antinanco on Jan 29, 2009 17:15:09 GMT -5
Ripples. They’re an odd thing, originating only from one seemingly small event. But not matter what the cause, a stone being dropped into a pond, a minor earthquake at sea causing a tsunami miles away, or even one single death, everyone always feels the consequences.
----
That evening, a unnoticed bluepair had been relaxing in their Weyr, one pouring over a scroll somewhat absent-mindedly as the other stared out into the valley and attempted to make conversation. Suddenly, a queen’s bugle broke the subdued atmosphere and the blue lifted his head to the sky.
Angth, what’s going on? W’ri questioned as the blue went stiffly silent. If he had been sitting at the right angle, he might have caught a glimpse of creamy gold reflecting in Angth’s eyes as he watched the queen blink between one final time. But the only answer his blue gave him was a long, mournful bugle that rose to join the deafening crescendo coming from the cliff.
“Angth,” the rider called, crossing the space between the two hurriedly. The lack of response along with the death-cry made him worried, and he attempted to shake his dragon out of it. “Angth! Angth! Tell me who died!”
Finally Angth turned his triangular head, and W’ri had to hold back a gasp at the sudden, unusual grey-blue. He understood his dragon was sad, and felt an enormous amount of whiplash from it, but grey… was Angth in pain? The dragon butted his head against his rider, who obliged and wrapped his short arms around him in a comforting embrace.
Mine, mine, oh W’ri-mine, he sobbed as hoarsely as mindvoices could ever could, Ri-love, Aslath and hers have left us.
Through an outsider’s perspective, the blue’s words might not have been entirely clear. But W’ri understood perfectly, too perfectly. He sagged, using his dragon as a prop to keep himself standing, and the two cried together as one for a long time.
When the two finally stopped Corinth… he says he wants a search… and healers….should we even…? Now it was W’ri’s turn not to answer. They both knew, every dragonrider full-well knew, Shmee and Aslath were gone for good. Slowly, the bluerider shook his head, for the first time rejecting an order from a superior. He mumbled something after inhaling Angth’s salty scent, “ ‘N I was just startin’ to like her…”
That day, the Weyr lost a leader.
----
Pasine had been sulking about her Barrack, attempting to needle her discontent into another weaving masterpiece and failing once again. She had no idea how much she had grown attached to the little kitten during her stay in the infirmary, and now that he was being fostered away she felt like she was missing a thing, a little thing, in her life. What she did not know was that little thing in her life was going to become a big something.
A piercing keen shattered the peaceful silence, causing the Candidate to fumble her weaving work in surprise. The needles clattered to the ground spitefully and were soon forgotten as a poignant uproar rose across the valley.
Soon the Barracks were in full alarm, Candidates running around the halls questioning every passerby for some tidbit of information. Pasine poked her head out into the hall, with much disgust for their disorganized panic, trying to piece together the tidbits that rushed past her.
“-this noise-” “Rider died-“ “Didn’t you see-“ “Up in the sky-“ “It was white-” “-too big-“ “-a white-gold?” “Aslath?” “Aslath!!” “Shmee is dead!” “The Weyrwoman-“ “-dead!”
Pasine was in disbelief. She swayed for a moment, then clutched at the doorframe to sturdy herself as she tried to calm her racing heart. It was beating so loudly, thumping against her throat, rattling her ribcage and echoing in her ears. She shut her eyes tightly to stop the flow of tears she hadn’t even realize had begun, but all that did was conjure up murky images of Shmee racing down from the Stands to assist her or Shmee’s comforting face as she lovingly combed out her hair.
Trying to get a hold of herself, Pasine wiped at the tears on her face, but new ones quickly took their place. Desperately she shot out into the anarchy of the hall, with only two goals in mind. Find Danar. Find Beau. She could not, did not hear the valiant bronze’s mental cry. Even if she did, she knew it was too late.
The room Pasine left cacophonously chimed of far-away dragon’s voices, the half-finished weave laying abandoned on the floor.
That day, the Weyr lost an idol.
----
At first, the bugle was nothing but an annoyance to Ieoha. It resounded through the crèche loudly, waking the young children and sending a few of them into fits. Angrily she busied herself with tucking them back into their cots, ushering comforting orders to return back to their naps. Or, at least she did until one of the older children shrieked suddenly.
“What? What is it?” the old auntie hushed the child, who was standing below the window and pointing at empty sky. But before he could answer, the dreaded keening of mourning dragons filled the air, upsetting not only the babes but Ieoha as well. Even Laef had woken on her perch to throw in her little flitter voice.
Now the crèche was filled to the brim with sobbing children. They were confused, scared, and tired. The smaller ones clung to Ieoha’s dress while others clung to various safety items. Painstakingly, the woman attempted to coral them back to their beds, holding back tears and staying strong for their sake. As she approached the one who had screeched earlier, he questioned with a snivel, “I-is the queenie coming back?”
For the second time that day, Ieoha was taken back. She thought it had been a lower rider, maybe a threadfall injury or a weyrling mishap, but surely not…?
“I-W-May--Later--“ Ieoha stammered, unusually flustered. She stared out the window longingly, willing the two to suddenly reappear and consol the children, mentally searching the vast nothingness of between for the gold to pull her back into existence. Still the sky was bare.
Then Ieoha hefted a sigh that made her bones feel weary with age and responsibility. She kneeled, brought the boy into one of her tight embraces, and began to cry freely. “No, honey, queenie’s not coming back.”
That day, the Weyr lost a dedicated mother.
----
Rinnel awoke to a singular, clear bugle. It would usually not be enough to wake him, since he was used to the usual hustle and bustle of daytime, but the note had an eeiry quality to it… the way it reverberated, it made him feel… empty. Panicking, he threw off his covers and mentally reached out to Risk, only to find the wher already awake. The man paused, confused, then groped around for his dreadful ‘mandyr in the dark vertigo of his cave.
Boom, too, was awake and alert, standing on her hind legs on his wardrobe as he found her, frill extended at some unknown cause. Her sharp stance pricked unsuspecting Rinnel on the finger, who withdrew with shock. But it was not the pain that alarmed him. The handler was scared stiff at the ‘mandyr’s beady glowing eyes, usually a fiery, angry red. Now they tinged with a wet blue, a color completely unheard from the vicious little beast. Boom. Boomboom notgood. Not boom! she hissed heatedly into the darkness at some unknown force. Boom not good? Something was seriously wrong.
Then the chorus of pitiful voices rose above the silence, and instantly Rinnel knew what was wrong. He was rushing to throw on a pair of trouser when Risk added her thick voice to the frey and an overwhelming sense of sadness flooded both of them. Soon the entire Barracks were shaking from the deep-throated whers’ calls, sharing the loss of their almighty queen. Biting back unexpected and rare tears, the man grabbed Boom, threw her and raced outside just in time to see the unmistakable white-gold beauty blink between forever.
The greenhandler had never had a flare for dramatics, but the breeze of cold air from between swept over him, forcing him to his knees. As Boom vibrated with her own sorrow song around his next, Rinnel felt his throat getting heavy. Raising his fist, he began beating the ground where his few tears fell until his knuckles were sore.
That day, the Weyr lost a beacon of hope.
----
Ripples. They’re an odd thing, originating only from one seemingly small event. But not matter what the cause, a stone being dropped into a pond, a minor earthquake at sea causing a tsunami miles away, or even one single death, everyone always feels the ripples. What is truly remarkable, however, it that each ripple is always different. They each affect a singular person in its own special way, almost as if it were a final, personalized parting gift specialized for each person from the thing that started the Ripples.
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Post by dragon on Jan 29, 2009 18:17:27 GMT -5
For the first time in her life, Aonith raised her head, and keened like she'd never keen again. Continuously, almost, taking a moment only to draw breath again for the next keen. The green dragon cried for thier lost Queen, drowning in sorrow. At her feet, Dorava was slumped off to one side, hugging her dragon's wrist with all her strength. Tears fled down her cheeks in an unchecked stream as she gripped her closest friend in the whole world – what might be her only friend in the whole world. The only one she could count on solidly to not turn on her.
But no, there was Val, too. The blue and white salamandyr was standing on her knee, upright and stiff as a post. His blue frill was fully extended as large as it could get, as the 'mandyr hissed his own sadness. His own self consciousness was completely forgotten over the emotions that pervaded the entire Weyr.
As much as she had not really liked nor gotten along with Shmee very well, Dorava was still shocked and greatly saddened by the loss of the Weyrwoman. Shmee had been a symbol, standing against the rest of the world. She ruled the only safe haven on the planet. Selenitas. What would happen, now that she was gone?! Dorava had come to Selenitas, deliberately placing herself under Shmee's rule … to have a chance at a different life. And now that umbrella was gone. Dorava … and Aonith too … they were not ready to go back to a life like that which they had fled at Benden.
Aonith's keening slowed, and then stopped, finally, the green lowering her head to nuzzle her rider, sadly. Mine. Corinth asks that people start searching for Aslath's. We must find her … and find who did this to her.
Dorava acted for a time as if she had never heard Aonith. Finally, she nodded, and wiped at her face with one wrist. Pushing herself to her feet, she climbed up onto Aonith's back as Val scampered up her pantleg to dive into her pocket again.
Aonith moved off, then, still rumbling sadly as waves of sorrow swept over her. "Where is the best place to start looking?" Dorava asked, her mind not at all completely functioning correctly.
Her weyr? Aonith asked.
"No … Aslath would have protected her from anything, in there. Where else would she have been at this hour?"
I have no idea.
"Me, neither." Dorava sighed, a new flood of tears starting.
~~~
E'yan jumped when Kindrith suddenly came to attention, going from sprawled out on his ledge, to sitting erect on his ledge, staring up at the sky. "Kin?" He asked. "What's up?" He asked, walking out onto the ledge even as Aslath's bellow raked across the Weyr. E'yan knew what that meant … he'd heard the sound too often to not know what it meant. He stared out at the Weyr as the mourning started. As often as he had heard dragons keening for their own dead before they died, he had never heard others keen like that before. Sadness creeped into his heart from Kindrith, even as the blue remained resolutely silent. E'yan looked up at the blue, as the large, pale blue dragon rose up onto his back legs, as tall as he could become, and arching his neck so that his snout touched his own breast. Wings extending upwards, tips touching, Kindrith curled his forelegs in to his own chest, as he saluted the passing Queen, braced on his sturdy tail. For many minutes, the old Fort blue held the difficult position. Finally, he relaxed it, and then fell back to all fours as he looked to his rider.
Let us find who did this. Let us slay them. Kindrith said, with a quiet tone that dripped of determined vengance. E'yan looked at the blue for a moment more, and then numbly nodded. He looked around for Rascal, to tell him to stay put, but didn't see the flitter anywhere. Shrugging his shoulders minutely, E'yan jumped aboard Kindrith's shoulders, before the blue shoved off into flight.
The first place Kindrith went was where he had seen the great Queen take off from. There, he landed, and E'yan slid off to look around. "She wasn't here … wherever Shmee was, she wasn't with Aslath at the time." The rider said, after a quick look around. "We have to hurry. We may yet catch the fiend." E'yan said, leaping aboard once more.
Rascal, for his part, as soon as the keening had started, had snapped between to go be with Lamb. Snuggling up with the little green as she snuggled into hers' neck, Rascal crooned sadly, looking to receive comfort from his mate as much as give it. The brown flitter didn't know what to do … what could he do? He was scared. Whatever could get the biggest of the Queens of Dragons … it made the little brown flitter very afraid.
~~~
C'oar had been hammering away again on his piece of metal, when Frosstyth suddenly collided with him, howling in agony like he had a hot poker jabbed somewhere very tender. C'oar yelped with alarm as much as surprise, and dropped everything to grab at the big, muscular brown weyrling that had just bowled into him, howling his head off.
"Frosst! What is it?!" C'oar asked, right before the sound of the rest of the Weyr reached him. Suddenly quite silent, the burly lad picked himself up off the ground, one arm around his dragon's neck. He looked around, for a moment, hearing the sadness that enveloped everything, and feeling the terror that came from Frosstyth's mind.
"What happened, Frosst?" C'oar asked, finally, turning to his dragon. "It's okay … calm down. What happened?" He asked.
His wailing slowly ceased, and whimpering, the brown tucked his head into C'oar's chest. Aslath is gone! Our mother is gone! Where has she gone?! She is gone! Why did she go?! The young brown started keening again, deafening C'oar.
C'oar released his dragon in favor of clapping his hands over his ears, in a reflexive, automatic act of self-preservation. His hearing had only just started returning to normal after the treatment he'd gotten from Corinth before Frosstyth's hatching. Up in the tree, he could see Storm acting up, as well.
Aslath was gone? What did he mean, gone? Though, from everything he was feeling from all around him, C'oar could wager a very good guess. Something had happened, and now Aslath was dead. What about Shmee? Was she alright? With that thought in mind, C'oar took off running as fast as he could go. After a moment, Frosstyth shut up and loped after him, distressed.
He had to find Shmee. He had to make sure the Weyrwoman was alright!
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Post by hseru on Jan 29, 2009 20:01:57 GMT -5
The sudden searing torrent of sadness from Gareth brought K'roi violently from sleep before the death keening even reached his ears. He struggled out of bed, dodging his agitated flitt in the process, and finally freeing himself of his sheets before stumbling across the large floorspace of his weyr towards the immediate object radiating such sorrow, already knowing that something terrible had happened. Something that would dramatically effect Selenitas.
The bronze was keening, bugling loss, wings partially spread as if he were about to leap outwards on coiled muscles, his head and neck straining towards some point in the sky, far distant. The rider knew then. They'd lost someone, and his heart clenched to think of who it might have been.
He closed the distance between the both of them, and leaned heavily against the large bronze shoulder, holding himself up under the lash of anguish. Gar... Gareth, what's happened? Who was it? The bronze continued to lean outwards, but he slowly lowered his massive bulk to the floor, as if unable to stand the weight of so much emotional pain. Our queen... Aslath and Her's are gone... gone. She has jumped Between... He moaned, a deep, vibrating note that struck a chord and held even within K'roi. Shmee. The woman who'd, absurdly enough, given them hope and a future. An integral part of the Weyr, even more so than could be said of a weyrwoman. K'roi slide to his knees, his eyes blurring with tears.
No, no! Shmee was dead!? How? Why? And after another moment of unbearable pain, 'Who.. who could have..." He muttered. She was young, healthy, both of them were! Aslath went Between which meant Shmee had died first... even the thought was painful and he cringed away from it for a moment before grabbing it tight and holding it within himself. Gareth had yet to respond to his query, still wrapped in his verbal grief as he keened loud in his deep bass voice, his head dropping a bit. Sakki's much higher keen soared upwards, swept up in the sadness emanating from the large bronze in waves. She settled on a backridge, falling silent and shivering from the overwhelming emotions.
"Who!" K'roi lept to his feet in sudden fervor. WHO DID THIS![/b] He finally sent, his mental shout rousing the bronze from his deathsong enough to peer bleerily at his bonded, eyes whirling with a dull gray that was ever-deepening. "She can't have just died! Someone... something.." His voice was alight with a rising anger, and the swirl of red that began to glow on Gareth's large faceted eyes mirrored the new emotion in His. Suddenly taken by a heated fury, K'roi scrambled with far less grace than usual to his riding spot on Gareth's back, ignoring the riding straps hanging nearby in favor of speed. The bronze caught the edge of his feelings, catching the rising wave of anger and bugling a new sound from the edge of their weyr; that of a rampaging, furious bronze. Gareth lept from the narrow ledge, snapping his monstrous wings wide to catch the uprising winds and sending him high over the Weyr, bugling a warning to anyone who did not belong to their home. A home that was now minus one very important part. Tears flowed down a face twisted with anger and grief, and the bronzepair flew high, night guard to any outsider who dared show themselves when a very large bronze and his bonded were riding the killing edge, their anger and sadness feeding back and forth until nothing but the need to move remained.
---
S'lain looked up from his work, sorrow crossing his face as the deathsong began. He'd stayed late in the infirmary to care for a few patients, and the cry of Aslath was his first warning sound. The almost immediate keening afterwords wrenched his heart, and he walked to the landing platform outside to look upwards, his face a mask of sorrow as he simply stood there, letting the wind tug at him. He felt Jaxith's grief on top of his own.
She has gone between, mine. Our glorious queen is no more... The blue's high keening was a clarion note against the sorrow of the many dragons voicing their loss to the night. So it was their Weyrwoman... their leader. S'lain bowed his head in sadness, and was poised in that way until Corinth's message was passed on to him via Jaxith.
Mine, go. See if you can find Aslath's.... Corinth is sending healers to find her. S'lain nodded mutely, though he knew Jaxith couldn't see his non-verbal response from their weyr. He dimly began walking the rooms near the infirmary, making his way through the many passages in a daze. He didn't know what he could do... Shmee was undoubtedly already... He took a deep breath, and continued his search without hope for what he might find.
---
It was a terrifying sound. Oh, he'd heard it before, but he'd never understood just what it meant, and he'd never been so close to the source. It was always from so far away.. so distant.
Lanthos surged upright, Pep clinging to his usual sleeping spot on his chest. The salamandyr flared in surprise at His' sudden motion, though he cocked his head at the keening that was reverberating through the whole Weyr. Shiny? Loudloudloud. He slithered upwards, hiding inside the neck of Lanthos' shirt.
Turning at the sound of the other candidates, He approached Danar, uncertain and clearly starting to become a bit upset at the noise. Even without hearing their feelings, he was certain that the keening dragons were filled with a boundless grief. He wasn't certain that he actually wanted to know why, either.
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Tashe
Shiny Hoarder
Weyrwoman Kaegan Dragonhealer E'rro Rider K'thay Woodcrafter E'iah Healer Raylanne Healer Ithanna Harper Zemaren [color=0BDA5
"When the Butterfly emurges, does the caterpillar no longer exist?"
Posts: 1,401
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Post by Tashe on Jan 29, 2009 23:57:14 GMT -5
He didn't kreen for the lost Leaders as did the other Dragons, instead, the Brown lowered his head in silence. Dying was a part of life, and in times of war, death was a high possibility. There was a time to grieve of course, but Ismaroth would show it in his own way in his own time. Yo, Ismaroth, is that what I think it is? /Yes, Aslath and Shmee have passed into the Between./ Moving his head so he could look upon his Mine, the large male inspected E'rro solemnly. The young man looked pensive, a scowl mixed with uncertainty had been plastered onto his face, not a look he normally sported without good reason.
/Corinth is calling for all Weyrriders to look for the Weyrwoman, and that all available healers to mobilize./ "Fine. Lets go." Snagging his jacket from the back of his chair, E'rro emptied his pockets of everything and anything that could be considered dangerous. If he found the Weyrwoman, he would be treading on fragile ground, most of the Weyr knew that he wasn't an original Selenitasite. He had to take every precaution, which included leaving his sewing needles back at the Weyr. Swinging up into his riding harness, E'rro strapped himself in as Ismaroth maneuvered himself around to take off.
Running a hand through his already tussled hair, the ex-Benden Rider swept his gaze upward toward the Weyrwoman's Weyrledge. People would have checked her Weyr already... Lets go see if the cooks have seen her today. /Why? Would it not make more sense to talk with the servants?/ The Drudges do have a extensive network, but Selenitas cooks are extremely observant. /But I th-/ Just, lets do it. /Fine Mine. But next we will be talking with the servants./
What had happened? It certainly hadn't been an attack, Ismaroth would have picked up on Benden dragons quickly... Suicide? No. Shmee might have been a little reckless, but she hadn't seemed suicidal. Sabotage?
Jerking slightly as they landed, E'rro furrowed his brows before unstrapping himself and dismounting with Ismaroth's help. Stay here. It didn't take him long to work his way to the dining hall, but instead of finding the cooks, the Brownrider found someone else entirely. Freezing up, E'rro could only stare at the woman's body, only regaining his senses after remembering the task at hand. Lurching forward, the healer ran in haste to her side, immediately checking for a pulse. Though he knew there would be none.
(E'rro is at the disposal of your whims. As long as you don't kill him. x3)
----
She was in the infirmary when the Deathsong began, her forearm having needed a few stitches after the fall she had taken earlier on. Glancing up from her bandaged arm, the young woman frowned, listening as her own Dragon added her voice to the song. A single hop got her down off of the cot she had been seen to on, Kaegan paced softly over to the closest window, not wanting to disturb the patients who were sleeping or resting quietly. Millieth? Who was it? /Mine, oh, Mine. Aslath and Shmee, they've left us./ The news was like a knife to her chest, a horribly serrated one. Time seemed to freeze, as if she herself had entered the Between, and noting seemed to move as shock settled over her. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be...
Stepping backward slowly, Kaegan shook her head in disbelief, her body feeling lighter than she should be. I think... I think... I'm going to... faint. Collapsing onto the floor, the Weyrwoman wilted into a cold faint, the stress and shock of the news accumulating into one foul swoop.
/Mine? Shard it! I know have to worry about you and the Weyr./ Normally, Millieth would have been highly concerned about the condition of her Rider, but the conditions of her faint couldn't be more acceptable. Kaegan had fainted in the infirmary, in which contained healers and other Riders. She'd be safe there. Spreading her wings as she pushed off of the ledge, quickly rising into the sky in search of Corinth, storming over the river and into the Canyon.
This was such an unexpected event, and certainly the entire Weyr was grieving and searching for the missing Weyrwoman. Invading the Weyrledge that was directly next to the Bronze's robust body, the oldest of the last two Queens alighted down with a whine. /Corinth! Have they found her yet? Is there any news? Is there anything that I may do?/
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Rowana
Hive Mind
Handler Roivao Rider G'tor Rider Merridan Rider T'ke Rider N'rik Handler Porita Rider Farryl Rider Kyr'n[/color
Posts: 1,550
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Post by Rowana on Jan 30, 2009 11:32:30 GMT -5
Peppeth's high pitched keen broke through Farryl's sudden nightmare. Farryl stared at her for a moment in horror. Even without ever hearing it before, she knew what this meant. <Peppeth?> Farryl's voice was quiet and tentative. <She is gone!> Peppeth moaned in a voice that broke Farryl's heart. <Mama is gone!> Farryl's mouth fell open and unbidden tears stung her eyes. Morea was crying too, clinging to her green Heith.
Farryl dove from the bed and caught Peppeth in a tight hug. <Oh Peppeth.> Farryl let the tears come. She did usually allow herself to cry, but today she didn't care. She and Peppeth shared in grief. Tille cried mournfully at the loss of the queen. Even Mikka seemed to sense something was wrong and snuggled sadly aggainst the girls side.
After a long moment, Peppeth broke the silence in a small voice, so unlike her. <Corinth says to search for her> she said mournfully. Farryl nodded, whipping her tears. Action would help her keep the sorrow at bay and she wanted desperately to help. But look at Morea told her that the other girl was in no state to come. <Let's stay,> she whispered. <No one should be alone right now.> For the first time since her assignment, Farryl moved to Morea's bed and sat with her. The two girls and their dragons barely knew each other, but right now, that did not matter. It was enough to not be alone.
~
T'ke felt like a knife had stabbed him through the chest. Aslath and Shmee were gone. How? When? Why? Questions roared painfully in his head and he shook his head desperately to clear it. Was the whole Weyr in danger? Should they flee? Or stay where they were? T'ke couldn't think straight. And that frightened him all the more. Garaeth nudged close to his rider. <I will always be here> he assured him. <But Aslath...> T'ke began. For once, the blue dragon had no words of cheer to offer. <They are at peace> Garaeth said simply.
~
G'tor was too stunned to react at first. Ruskeath howled to the sky and tiny Star clung to him in sorrow. The whole event seemed unreal, like a nightmare come to life. But this was no nightmare. This was painfully and extremely real. G'tor didn't know what to do, or even how to react. He just stared at nothing while his mind tried to comprehend what was going on.
<Tor>Ruskeath turned his head to nuzzle his rider in comfort. <The Weyrleader asks all riders to search for the Weyrwoman.>
G'tor nodded dumbly. Part of him didn't see the point. She was dead and no hurry to reach her would change that. But he knew they needed to find out what had happened more than anything. They needed to know why. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Dumbly he opened it to see Wynmuri, one of the older riders standing outside.
"Plenty of riders searching for the Weyrwoman," she said stiffly. Wyn was also trying to grasp the situation. She had never liked Shmee all that much, but she had respected her. She could not imagine the Weyr without her leadership. "I'm worried about the weyrlings."
G'tor nodded. Technically, as the senior rank, he was in charge, but Wyn was older and wiser than him and at the moment he felt completely out of his depth. "Let's go." At least doing something would keep his mind from what had happened for a while longer. He climbed nimbly to Ruskeath's back and saw Wyn doing the same on Jarcith, who had landed outside his weyr. Off they flew to the Weyrling Barracks. If Selenitas lost both their senior queen and her last clutch in one day, it would be a hard blow.
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Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
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Post by Avu on Jan 30, 2009 16:23:04 GMT -5
Time trickled, slowed down, and T'rid couldn't find the energy to move himself from the cold stone of the weyrledge, body supported by Corinth's neck as the bronze curled up around him, masses of gleaming hide shifting around him. The dragon had fallen silent, though his eyes remained a bright yellow, shock swirling along with the mental agony. Gone...? Shmee, gone; Aslath, gone. The Weyrleader was having trouble accepting the fact. Sure, he'd hated Shmee, even cursed her and wished she were dead ocassionally, but he hadn't really - hadn't really meant it. Now that she was...he was sad. The bronzerider's stomach clenched as Corinth, slowly, wearily, as if by a great concentration, uncurled himself and stared over the Weyr, gleaming eyes recovering as anxiety pierced him.
The Weyr...his Weyr. His and - Millieth's? Yes. She was Senior queen now...because Aslath was gone...that left just Millieth and Hepaticath, the latter of whom had just graduated. The bronze closed his eyes with a last soft warble. The dragon's tribute was over; his voice dropped from the chorus of tones, ranging from the sweet shrill soprano of fire lizards to the low bugling bass of the browns and bronzes. "What happened?" His Rider's voice was slightly hoarse, and he sounded dazed, unaware that he'd already voiced the same query minutes before. I don't know. But there haven't been any /more/ deaths... The bronze couldn't find it within him to sound hopeful, and his voice came as a monotone, dead-sounding. They're not looking...they've got to look! The dragon's tail lashed in a panic that belonged half to T'ridhis and half to himself. The faster they find her, the faster we can possibly isolate cause of death, the bronzerider agreed softly, his eyes narrowed as his gaze swept over the Weyr.
Clearing his throat, T'rid forced himself up and took a few rapid steps back. "I'm...going to look," he stated softly. "Okay? Stay...stay with me, Corinth." Alone - ? Corinth protested sharply. Alone! the Weyrleader spat back defiantly. I can't...I /won't/...let anybody come with me. That's all...I've got my knife anyway. Hopefully, hopefully, nobody would think to suspect him; he was Selenitas born and bred, after all, and irritating though he found Shmee - he swallowed, slightly nauseous at the thought of how much he'd disliked her - he wouldn't kill her. There was quite a difference in saying, "I wish she was dead," and actually killing her, after all...Stupid whined, his voice grating, from the weyr, and Mir cried out his own distress as T'rid bypassed the two in the weyr, glancing over the darkened weyr, at Corinth, the bronze's eyes following him, gleaming anxiously, before he stepped out into the corridor.
Weyrfolk. A young man with brownriders' knots grabbed him by the wrist as T'rid started to run for the family weyrs. T'kal. Leweleth's Rider. "She's not in her weyr!" T'kal yelled over the chaos of the corridor. Drudges, by now, had heard what had happened; seen the queen go between, perhaps - and they were panicking. T'rid hissed, whipping around on his heel, and found someone else grabbing at his free wrist, tugging frantically. "Main Hall, the Main Hall, I was doing glows and I saw her heading that way!" the woman shrilled, and as the tide of Weyrfolk turned, T'rid wrenched his hand free of the Drudge's grasp - T'kal had already released him and gone - gone somewhere - I sent him to inform the Candidates, Corinth informed him - and bellowed, waving one hand for attention. "STAY, STAY HERE!"
Without waiting to see if his orders had been obeyed, he tore down the hallway, clattering down the stairs. Places that he'd so often traveled became a blur as he grabbed a boat, and rowed, silently, the oars cutting through the water, towards the Main Hall, and, skidding sharply 'round the corner, entered the Main Hall, stopping dead as his eyes focused on the two figures in the room. E'rro T'rid was unfamiliar with, but according to most, he was originally from Benden - but he was also a Healer. The bronzerider slowly dropped his gaze to the second figure, the form of the ex-Weyrwoman. The faintest smile still lingered - so she'd been unaware of impending death? - and she looked almost peaceful, lying there. Swallowing, T'rid watched silently for a moment until Corinth broke his reverie, bespeaking Millieth, who had apparently just arrived. Without focusing on the bronze's words, T'rid stepped towards E'rro, his gaze sweeping the length of Shmee's body, her posture.
"What...what happened?" The words were uncharacteristically hesitant. There was no mark of attack. No bruise, laceration, or puncture wound marred the skin, and no blood was visible. She looked simply as if she had been sampling the wine that night, and had...passed away. T'rid stared at her, and then tore his gaze away to focus on E'rro, one eyebrow arching in the familiar motion, though he felt strangely numb and was unaware of the gesture as he felt blankly for Corinth, seeking solace, and found the bronze still addressing Millieth and unaware of his mental touch.
Mine has just found her, the bronze answered Millieth quietly, raising his head to glance at the young queen, completely unsurprised by her arrival. Actually, he was merely surprised more dragons hadn't bespoken him asking after the ex-Weyrwoman's death. He and Ismaroth's are there...he is asking, but nothing is known yet, really. There was no attack. It looks like...like she just...died... That couldn't be right. Just couldn't. Aslath's was young, and healthy. Dragonriders generally were heartier than the average Holdfolk, and they did not just drop dead without warning! I'm sorry. I don't know what to do...
~*~*~
Leweleth was still keening softly, the brown dragon standing stock-still, staring at that point where the golden queen had disappeared forever, eyes dark golden shades as he flared his wings in tribute, and then sank down to the weyrledge, as a trembling Moth mrowed at him anxiously, the white kitten completely bewildered as to what was happening, but not approving of the noise. Night was for sleeping, and why wasn't the big brown sleeping? It was simply beyond her. In fact, the entire Weyr seemed to have decided not to sleep. The kitten squirmed away from the furs - the brownrider was the thing that made them the most comfortable, and he wasn't there, so she would just wait for him to return before she slept again. Where are you, T'kalmine? the brown cried. Hang on - Weyrleader - came the indistinct reply, and Leweleth could feel the shudder as His tried to repress the tears.
He failed, and Leweleth moaned softly as he felt tears well over His' eyes and slip down the young man's cheeks. And then, abruptly, the Weyrleader's bronze's tones were in his mind. The Candidates. Leweleth, send Yours to tell the Candidates! Y - yes, s - sir... Passing the message along hurriedly, Leweleth felt T'kal agree, wildly, bewildered, terrified, and then run towards the waiting boats, wrestling his way through the Weyrfolk that had come up to investigate. Swallowing, Leweleth's tail lashed in his agitated distress, and the brown curled up again, his wings sheltering his head and body. He just wanted it all to go away...this was as bad, as terrifying and isolating, as High Reaches, the sudden loss and desperate loneliness...
The Candidate Barracks loomed, and T'kal dropped the boat, hurriedly looping the rope around the post of the dock and jerking it tight as he approached the crowd of excitedly conversing Candidates. They didn't know. They would never understand, the tremendous impact, the frantic panic that every dragonrider, every weyrling and wherhandler, was being put through. A dragon, every dragon, had some link to their senior queen, a loyalty that would fade only in death, and the link had been broken, abruptly, suddenly, without warning, and the terror that raced through the Weyr was unimaginable. Loosing the Senior Queen...it was simply catastrophic. These Candidates - the younger ones, perhaps, might see it only as a lost Impression opportunity, but it was so, so much more than that.
The brownrider cleared his throat, trying to compose himself as his throat clenched, unwilling to cooperate. Swallowing, he squeezed his eyes shut briefly, and then Leweleth was encouraging him. You can do it, T'kalmine. I love you, I won't ever leave you, don't leave me. Do this for the Weyr, for Corinth's and for Aslath's and for us. I promise I'll never leave you...just don't leave me. The brown's voice broke, and T'kal summoned up the energy to yell, his voice wavering slightly, "HEY! CANDIDATES, LISTEN UP!" As soon as the murmurs ceased, the brownrider rubbed his throat slowly, surveying the faces through the blur of tears. "Maybe you saw," he stated huskily. "Maybe...I don't know. But Aslath...did go between, and...to - to follow Shmee. That's why the dragons are mourning...they're dead. Our Senior Weyrwoman...is dead..." T'kal closed his eyes against the pain, the finality, of uttering the words. "I don't know how...or why...but that's it."
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Post by antinanco on Jan 30, 2009 17:16:49 GMT -5
The crowd spit Pasine out onto the landing of the Candidate rather abruptly. Her tears had stopped by that time, though her cheeks still shone with wetness, her sudden sorrow being replaced by anger and annoyance. Part of the shift came from the aggravating jostling of the disorganized crowd, which in her mind pleaded for order, and another part came from problems being unresolved. Where were her Danar and Beau? And, more importantly, why had Shmee died? A Candidate’s voice rose over the crowd, which was then followed by a rider’s shout. She turned her head and listened, hungry for answers.
But they got none, aside from a reassurance that Shmee was dead. All that did was rise another swell of emotions in Pasine that she didn’t want. She threw a distasteful look at the rider. Well, it looked like she wasn’t getting to Beau anytime soon. At least that was one thing crossed off her list. But, at the same time, why hadn’t they sent someone who could handle a crowd more efficiently? Someone like that Candidate who had spoken up earli–waitaminute. She had recognized that voice now! Danar!
Stalking hers down in the settling crowd, Pasine found the disheveled brown head she was looking for and gave it a swift but light cuff on the head.
“Where sharding were you?!” she huffed with hands on hips, annoyed. Hadn’t he figured out what was going on by now? He was Weyrbred, after all, he should’ve known what a deathsong sounded like. But that was just like Danar, a little thick in his square head. She rolled her eyes and wondered what he would do without her. Of course, Pasine totally ignored the fact that she herself had only known of the Weyrleader’s death thanks to eavesdropping on more enlightened Candidates.
“I was looking all over for you and here you are, hanging out with your friends!” The Candidate eyed Lanthos for a minute and then shook her head in disgrace, pouring all of her hasty anger into the two unduly. “Come on, we’re not doing any good here. Let us go find what happened to Sh-the Weyrwoman.” She bit her lip, not yet ready to utter Shmee’s name. Slipping her hand into his, the Candidate yanked on Danar’s arm in a random direction. Lanthos was welcome to come too, of course, and she motioned so with a beckon of her free hand.
[/font]
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Kisha-Ra
Rider Mo?rya Rider Darya Rider K?fuzzi Rider J?on Handler Vivano Handler Yoalla
Happier'n a pig in mud ABOUT WHERBABIES!
Posts: 1,109
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Post by Kisha-Ra on Jan 30, 2009 18:29:28 GMT -5
It was a terrible sound, the keening of dragons. It sent Darya’s painstaking harness repair flying across her weyr as she ran out to the ledge, Azrath stood rock still, wings and neck outstretched, adding his voice to the dozens that howled out their sorrow around the weyr. Imp stood on Azrath’s head in much the same pose lending a shrill note to the sound of mourning dragons. What? What is it? Who is it? Darya managed to get some thoughts together. Big shiny go. Gone. Gooooooooone The salamandyr answered a if the questions were for him. Aslath is no more.[/color] The dragon’s answer came in the next breath.
Darya’s mind reeled in shock and she leaned heavily against Azrath’s greyish tinged shoulder, she would have liked to believe that Azrath was wrong but he wasn’t. No. Darya turned her face into Azrath’s hide and wept silently, Imp clambered down to her shoulders and coiled around her neck, though whether he wanted to give or take comfort was uncertain. They might have stayed there for hours, or only minutes, dragon, rider, and salamandyr, together in sorrow.
At last Azrath moved and foucused his yellow and red eyes on his rider. Corinth says His wants us, all of us, to search for Aslath’s, and to take healers.[/color] The blue didn’t mean it to but the last part of his annocumant clearly showed his doubt. Darya shook her head once. ‘If Aslath went between her rider was already dead.’ Darya’s voice sounded horrible to her own ears, rusty and cracking with emotion. She slapped Azrath’s shoulder lightly and the blue obediently the foreleg for her. Will you be safe? What if it’s an attack?[/color] The blue asked worriedly.
Then we’re screwed. We’ll have to run. Darya answered bluntly. Fly low, let’s see if we, or rather you can spot anything. Darya had no better plan than that. She didn’t make a study of the Weyrwoman’s habits, had actually found her rather annoying, even after she set the Weyr to rights.
It was a terrible sound, the keening of dragons. It hit R’fuin like a blow to the solar plexus, the knowledge that someone was gone. He didn’t know who, but tears still nearly blinded him as he stumbled toward the pale bulk of his dragon, nearly tripping over Hisspit as he went.
R’fuin it is terrible, our queen has left us.[/color] Ylonth wailed as R’fuin laid a hand on the ashen hide of his neck. R’fuin blinked. Wait… did you…? Yes. Yes! Aslath is gone![/color] The blue cried hysterically and moaned, high thin sound compared to the eerie strength of the previous keening. Trick appeared from somewhere to run up R’fuin’s leg and vanish up his shirt. Hurt mine, strange hurt. The salamandyr muttered from inside R’fuin’s clothes.
Corinth’s wants the Weyrwoman found.[/color] Ylonth stated after a moment or two of silence, there was the impression that the blue had pushed back his sorrow in order to think clearly. I’ll go. You only just recovered from that scrape back in the North. R’fuin shrugged on his riding jacket and snatched up a knife as he left his weyr, anything might be out there and probably was, if was them, the northerners.
It was a terrible sound, the keening of dragons. It sent O’dan and J’on tearing out to the ledge of O’dan’s weyr where Rinagth and Emerith were. The two greens huddled together like frightened children, in contact with each other at every possible point, though Rinagth normally had an antipathy for other females and sulked as far away from Emerith as possible when their riders visited each other. Aslath has gone between[/color] Both dragons spoke at the same time, broadcasting in their panic.
J’on moved cautiously along the ledge to Rinagth and embraced his dragon, pressing his body against the green’s chest and wrapping his arms around her neck as far as they would go. He would have liked to run to her but the ledge wasn’t that big and he had no desire to break his neck and have Rina be the second dragon to disappear tonight.
O’dan moved between Emerith’s forelegs and sat there, leaning against her chest with his head in his hands. Aslath? Gone? He couldn’t believe it, the gold and her rider had been fine this morning, just this morning. A whimper rose from O’dan’s throat to match the tones of the firelizards and salamandyrs who grieved with their giant cousins.
It was a terrible sound, the keening of dragons. The sudden shock of the sound issuing from dozens of dragon throats, made R’aro tremble and the sorrow and despair that came with Idith’s voice filled his eyes with tears. R’aro, Aslath and her rider have left us.[/color] It took R’aro a moment to work out what Idith meant, then the tears fell. R’aro bowed his head and let shock and sorrow take him as the dragons cried for their lost queen.
The Weyrwoman must be found. You should not be alone.[/color] Idith’s voice came again, though after how long R’aro couldn’t say. He shouldn’t be alone, he should be with Idith and his flitters, lending them what comfort he could, as they so often did for him. But he’d been sneaking down to kitchens for a bite to eat and now stood in an empty corridor somewhere near his former goal.
His thoughts and body felt like they were stuck in mud, the air seemed to cling to him as he moved. R’aro still had no idea what was happening but if Shmee was dead, nothing was good. R’aro’s feet took him into the kitchen anyway, and he picked up the sharpest looking knife he could immediately see, despite the objections of a shocked cook. He wished he still carried his sling around, he never was that good a knife fighter.
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Post by hseru on Jan 30, 2009 18:50:50 GMT -5
Lanthos's eyes widened as the rider explained the reason for the commotion, clearly upset over it, and despite never having actually seen the Weyrwoman before, he still had some understanding as to what a horrible thing had just happened. The sorrow drifting through the air would have gotten to anyone though, and he felt a brief prickling of tears that didn't turn into anything visible.
Pep, feeling the sadness of His, raised his head to rub it shortly against his neck in a comforting motion. Bad shiny... sad. His wasn't supposed to be sad over a shiny, not to mention a shiny who they'd never met. His was usually happy. Pep didn't like this unusual bout of unhappiness and he hissed faintly in distaste. He then ducked back down into Lanthos' collar again, as another candidate pushed through the growing crowd of unsettled youths to address the boy standing next to him who'd spoken up before.
In any other situation, he would have grinned a bit at the way she spoke to him, like an older sister or a mother. The look she shot Lanthos didn't seem too friendly at first, but when she motioned that he could join them as she started to drag the boy away, he had the urge to follow, and did so, tagging along behind.
---
It was a short time after he gained the level of the Main Hall that S'lain heard the shouts about direction. Someone had found the weyrwoman's body. He hurried now, a sudden urgency gripping him as he moved through the drudges who were full of panic. He grabbed a few on the way, attempting to reassure and quiet them, but his words were hollow, and lacked the conviction that would have made them more believable. He wasn't even sure that things would be alright. How could he say the same to others?
Pushing through the crowd of people hanging just outside the doors of the Main Hall, probably afraid to go in, he stopped upon entering, leaning back against the door frame. Mine... be careful. The blue's concern was laced with sorrow, but the double meaning was clear in his steady, quiet voice. Letting his defense down now while the unseen danger had yet to be identified.. well, they'd already learned their lesson from that one.
She was there, peaceful almost. The Weyrleader was here too, and he was glad for it. He didn't know how to handle this, or the people outside who were building themselves into a fever of anxiety. The multitude of voices were gaining in pitch.
S'lain took a few hesitant steps forward, and finally found himself next to the scene, his long gone skills in human healing noting some small details in that detached healer way he'd cultivated after several years of seeing horrifying dragon wounds. He remained silent though, unable to put his thoughts into the necessary words.
---
The wind was chilled, a cool wave over his too hot skin. ...we need to go back, mine. This is not the action we should be taking. We need to support the weyrleader, and help to settle the people. Our ...loss Gareth crooned a low wave of sad sound at the mention of the passing of their weyrwoman and queen. ... everyone is feeling the pain, mine. We should go help them ... K'roi dragged in a ragged breath, and leaned forward till his forehead lay against the night cool skin of the bronze until it grew warm again. You're right... He finally said after a time, the pulsing anger of before now only a dull throb in his chest. Not a single unknown dragon had taken to the skies, so there were no enemies in the air to vent his sorrow upon. The bronze was, as usual, the calming factor for him.
Let's go back... Giving the unnecessary landing signal to the big bronze, K'roi pushed himself back upright as Gareth began to make slow circles over the Weyr, sweeping back and forth, now more alert to the sounds rising from within each treetop dwelling. Shrieking, yells, and the keening rose to meet them, and Gareth let his own bass voice join in again, vibrating through his body as he landed where the noise of people seemed to be most prevalent - the Main Hall. Sakki appeared from Between as they landed, having lost them in the night skies during that frantic flight. The blue-green flitt warbled in her high voice, landing on the familiar shoulders of Hers before continuing to keen a soft lament, her tail wrapped securely around his neck while her head rested just below his left ear. The bronzerider absently reached a hand up to comfort her, and she nuzzled into his caress.
He made the vault to the ground more into a slide that landed him with a bit of a jostle, and he turned to find the center of confusion so that he could do whatever he could to help, his duties to the Weyr taking the place of his grief as the forerunner to his attention.
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Tashe
Shiny Hoarder
Weyrwoman Kaegan Dragonhealer E'rro Rider K'thay Woodcrafter E'iah Healer Raylanne Healer Ithanna Harper Zemaren [color=0BDA5
"When the Butterfly emurges, does the caterpillar no longer exist?"
Posts: 1,401
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Post by Tashe on Jan 30, 2009 22:21:01 GMT -5
No pulse, no movement, no breathing. And although he knew that the Dragon's deathsong never lied, E'rro was still hoping that she was only unconscious. But it wasn't to be, and the Song was true once more.
Tensing slightly as he heard footsteps, the Brownrider carefully dropped the Weyrwoman's wrist back onto her lap before turning to face the approaching person. T'rid... was not the person he had hoped to see first, but fate was fate and it couldn't be helped. Even the Weyrleader seemed to have been shaken by the death of the Queen and her rider. "I'm not entirely sure." Pausing for a moment to motion at Shmee's body, E'rro settled his arms across his chest, face as blank as ever. "No puncture wounds, no blood, no visible bruises and no blows to the head. And I saw no one exiting the hall when I arrived. The expression on her face signalizes a sudden, peaceful passing. If I had to hazard a guess without examining her fully..." Another glance at Shmee caused a frown to appear on his face for a moment, although it dropped when his gaze settled on T'rid's face. "Poison. I just got here, and haven't had the time to look around. I suggest not touching anything other than the Lady, and not letting people other than healers and Riders into the hall."
Crossing his arms behind his back, E'rro eyed the two riders who had appeared through the growing crowd around the door. At least Riders were bound by law to listen to an order from a superior officer, if T'rid told them not to touch anything, then they wouldn't. Although, the ex-Benden Rider was rather surprised that he hadn't been accused right away, but as always... he was a minority in a fragile situation, surrounded by Riders looking for a person to blame. His pessimistic attitude told him it was only a matter of time.
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/Ismaroth?/ Bending her head in thought, Millieth mulled over the name of the dragon while listening to Corinth speak, her emotions constantly switching back and forth in her Breast. /Is he not a an ex-Bendenite?... Faranath, that can wait./ Raising her gaze back to the Bronze, the Queen shifted uncomfortably. /We must calm the Dragons, let them know that in the face of tragedy, we are still here for them. And even though we grieve terribly for the loss of our Leaders, we must appear strong for the Weyr./ Closing her eyes as she turned her face away from Corinth, Millieth felt something small and cold settle between her head knobs, knowing that Azaran and Dash had come to take solace in her presence.
/Mine would help yours... but... she fainted. I am sure she will rouse soon enough... the humans need their leaders at a time like this. Need to see them working to find out the reason behind the Passing./
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She had cried, and so had Gina, the emotions of their dragons spilling over their bond. As soon as they became aware of it, the Green and her rider had sought out Saraina, and she had not turned them away. Neither of the girls had really knew their Weyrwoman, but death was always a sad thing to face. Their dragons had been hit harder by the sadness sweeping over the Weyr, Aslath had been their mother and Leader, their loyalties and ties to her were strong.
All four partners sat together on Saraina's ledge, taking comfort in eachother's presence, for the time being.
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Post by nightingale on Jan 30, 2009 23:16:13 GMT -5
/ Dragons of Selenitas! We need to get healers to the Weyrwoman immediately - find healers, find the Weyrwoman! If we must search, let no person search alone! /
Ke’rin listened to the commands in silence, eyes closed as he pressed himself against Jaymith’s shuddering form. The boy was certain that weyrlings were not meant to take part in this search, and that they had only received the message because it had been aimed to touch the mind of every dragon in the Weyr. T’rid would send a rider over to check on them shortly, he was certain...and yet as Jaymith’s sobs faded to quiet whimpers, the boy knew that he would go mad if he just sat there and did nothing. He couldn’t stand to feel so helpless and insignificant.
It was Lamb’s melancholy warble of affection that prepared Kei for the weight of another flitter on his shoulder and kept him from flinching. The tiny green wrapped her tail around one of Rascal’s back legs, twining her delicate neck with his as she nuzzled him gently. She was frightened as well. Oh, so very frightened...but Hers would protect them. Hers had to...Hers would protect them, wouldn’t he? He assured her that he would. Ke’rin-mine. Jaymith crooned softly, drawing the boy’s attention. His hide was dull and matte, making him look quite sickly. We must go and make sure the others are unharmed. Jaymith, couldn’t you just ask them? I could...but we will go to them. The boy was quite for a long moment, then nodded his understanding. There was a noteworthy difference between asking someone if they were alright and offering to help them up.
“T’ke.”
The bronzeweyrling was surprised by just how calm his voice sounded as he rose to his feet, one arm still wrapped about his dragon’s neck.
“I’m going to check on the others and make sure they’re alright. Will you come with me?”
The blueweyrling looked rather distressed in his own right, and so Ke’rin felt guilty asking him, but at the same time he thought that it would be unfairly presumptuous to assume he would rather stay behind. Besides, he couldn’t very well leave his roommate alone after Corinth had warned them about staying together.
~~~
A quiet numbness drifted over Saeo’s mind as the final notes of Cherilith’s heartbroken keening vibrated through her body. Cherilith I love you. She told him, hot tears smearing against his grey-blue hide as she crushed herself against him. I love you so much my darling...please, promise me that you won’t ever leave me. No my beautiful Saeo. I will never leave you.[/color] The dragonet warbled softly, letting his great blue head rest gently on her shoulder. And please, you must never leave me. I promise I won’t. Cherilith if it ever comes to that we’ll go together. No matter which of us leads, the other will follow. Alright? Yes my beautiful.
The girl flinched as she suddenly felt something small and furry vibrating against her leg. The sound of Beau’s purring filled the entire room as he rubbed himself against the girl’s ankle, mewing once and fixing her with a look that simply begged her to pick him up. For a long moment she simply stared at the kitten, as if not quite sure what to make of him. You should pick him up Mine. Cherilith murmured, nudging her gently with the tip of his velvet-soft nose. She did.
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