Sleeping With Ghosts [Open]

[glamourie]

He’d officially been ‘discharged.’ Or more specifically, released on the promise that he’d take it easy and rest. His chest was still sore, but R’wign felt better, in general. At least physically. He’d gotten dressed and packed up to go back to his weyr - which was moved, he was told. Some of him was grateful for that. Most of him was. Part of him… not so much; he’d miss the walls that were stained with memories. But the whole Weyr was riddled with them, and there was nothing he could do to get rid of that. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to, either. R’wign still felt like part of him was… gone. Hollowed out. Empty. That feeling was more pronounced by the idea of going back to an empty weyr. He hadn’t slept alone in Turns, and wasn’t sure he could anymore.

Maybe it was for that reason that he’d gone, not to his own, but to her weyr.

It was empty, of course. Cleaned out and emptied for new inhabitants. One of the weyrlings from Aslath’s last clutch would be moving in soon, surely, or perhaps another greenrider being shifted; it didn’t matter, for the moment the rooms were empty. Totally, and completely barren of all that made it home to the person who once inhabited it. R’wign brushed his fingers through his hair, pushing the black curls back out of his face. One hand came up to adjust the black eye patch over his left socket - hiding it from view. His fingers lingered and he silently slipped to the middle of the empty weyr, looking out over the empty ledge. Claw marks from the dragon who inhabited it before - but she was gone forever. Scuff marks, probably from moving the bed; was that her who moved it, or the person who used the weyr before her…? So hard to say.

Crouching down, R’wign propped his chin on one hand and stared at the cold stone floor. Then he moved to sit, his knees coming up to his chest. He felt Checkoth’s worry brushing over him like ice water, but for the moment he did little to reassure the brown; there wasn’t anything he could do to take away that concern, nothing he could do to fix the problem… just like there was nothing that Check could do to take away the hurt inside he was feeling. It would ease some, in time, but for the moment - the pain was still very, very fresh.

Cezine. His first. He’d delivered her baby. She’d died trying to protect the junior weyrlings. She was his first friend at Selenitas, the first person to really talk to him. She brought him pies when he was sad, and every time he failed to Impress, she’d come to him and told him he would eventually. He hadn’t spoken to her much before her death… and he felt guilty for that.

Z’hin. What was the last thing he’d said to the brown rider? Mocking him about his aversion to the infirmary. They’d almost died together. He had the scars to prove it. R’wign brought one hand up to run his fingers over the scars lining his chest. The fabric of his shirt hid them from view but he knew them, because they were a part of him. As much a part of him as anything else, and they’d never fade. Even time wouldn’t take away the scars… souvenirs for all time, they were, and part of him wished them gone.

K’ran. His best friend’s younger brother, and the person who convinced him to Stand a second time to begin with. He wasn’t very close to the bronze rider, but they were friends. R’wign considered him a friend, at least. He’d listened, when K’lir couldn’t…

Marra. His weyrmate, though he’d never used that word for her. She’d lived with him and… did he love her? He was too young to ever really know, but he’d cared about her beyond words. She was important to him. The first woman he’d ever had real feelings for, she was, and she’d be remembered for the rest of his life. She’d impacted him, she’d changed him. And she was gone. He’d found her covered in her own blood in the bathing cavern of the weyr they shared. He couldn’t go back without hallucinating blood everywhere. Someone had moved him - perhaps foreseeing the problem. He didn’t dare go back there… didn’t dare face the terror and guilt. He felt responsible, and he didn’t want to be reminded of having failed her.

And then there was her. Religna. His younger sister. Being an older brother meant something to him: it meant it was his job to keep her safe, and he’d failed. Her eyes were cut out. Not just killed - eyes cut out. That meant she’d suffered. His baby sister, who he’d tried to protect growing up, who he’d run away from home for, was dead, and he’d never see her again. He’d never get to tell her how proud of her he was every day, or how glad he was that she escaped Nerat, he’d never be able to tell her that he loved her. There was no goodbye. She was sixteen. Too young to die. She’d barely begun to live, and if he was any kind of brother, he would’ve kept her safe. But he hadn’t. He’d failed her, the one person on Pern who needed him the most, and he couldn’t redeem himself, he couldn’t fix that.

His head pressed against the top of his knees. Behind him, wings shuffled; his fire lizards cluttered around, doubtlessly worried about him. R’wign ignored them. His hands tightened around his legs and he clenched his eye closed to try and keep himself from outright crying. But after a few moments, even that effort became futile and he lost himself first in the melancholy - and then to the exhaustion that had been welling up for weeks.

. . . .

Sunlight crept into the weyr from the ledge, sending a spill of gold over the stone and dancing off the sleeping figure that had moved to the side of the weyr. Covered in fire lizards, R’wign made quite the sight, and he was openly visible to anyone passing through the halls. He was curled into a small ball, his hair splayed around his face, and comically, he looked as if he was trying to fit one foot behind the back of his neck. In his sleep, he’d shifted so much that his shirt was half coming off, and the blanket he’d brought with him was wrapped around him so much that he looked like a mummy. The position he was in was obviously not very comfortable, either, if his slight shifting was anything to judge by…

[Rowana]

It was amazing how much more work they could find for Mer to do. Now that D'nar and many of the other candidates were busy with new hatchlings to care for, many of their chores had fallen on her and the few other unimpressed who had stayed on. She had barely had time to be sorry about being left standing, before she had been thrust into more work. At least she had no trouble convincing people she wanted to stay. They probably would have begged her if she'd said she wanted to go home.

Mer's current job was taking breakfast around to anyone who was unable or unwilling to make to the Main Hall. The kitchen staff were very inisistant that no one went starving on their watch, whether they wanted to or not. They had heaped Mer's tray full of rolls, fruit, and a jug of klah. At least this was giving her a chance to learn her way around. By the time she had done this for a few days, she knew were almost every dragonrider and wherhandler lived.

Mer stopped suddenly in her rounds. This weyr was supposed to be empty. They had yet to move it its new occupant and she had never met the previous one. But someone was lying inside, covered in fire lizards. Even so obscured, he looked familiar. Mer blinked, realizing all at once that only one person had so many fire lizards. It had to be R'wign. She frowned. Sleeping on the floor could not be comfortable or healthy and she was willing to bet he hadn't eaten breakfast yet either.

Mer sighed. This really wasn't her thing at all. She didn't think she's be much help, but she couldn't just leave him here to make himself ill. She stepped inside and quietly came up behind him. She squatted and set the tray on the floor next to them. She paused a moment, unsure how to proceed. His fire lizards were probably over protective too. She hoped they weren't going to pounce her. Swallowing nervously she opened her mouth to speak. "R'wign?"

[glamourie]

R’wign?

Muh…? Speaking, speaking. Someone was talking to him. Who? No one he knew. Why? He was sleeping… sleeping. Why was his bed so hard. He had so many blankets, it shouldn’t have been so rough and hard. That voice wasn’t Marra’s, either -- who was talking to him? Why did his chest hurt? A flood of questions passed through R’wign as he gave voice to a low groan, clear indication of someone only just beginning to rouse. One hand snaked up to rub at his eyes and R’wign rolled over, onto his back rather than on his side. His fire lizards stirred, scattering around him, and Hazard (the brown) flitted up to land on Merridan’s shoulder delicately. His head cocked to the side and he looked at her, clearly curious. On the floor, R’wign squirmed for a moment, then flicked open his good eye to stare up at the ceiling of the weyr---

And memories came flooding back. He winced visibly and pushed himself up into a sitting position, one hand coming up to untangle himself from the blankets. His head cocked to the side curiously as he squirmed free, and then he turned to look at the person who had spoken his name -- the girl. From before, the attack. What was her name… Mer? She was a candidate - or had she Impressed? No, he didn’t think she had, or he would’ve remembered…

“Hi,” he offered lamely as he situated himself properly. His legs spread out in front of him, he looked the perfect picture of childlike naiveté, complete with hair tousled and falling around his face in big, loopy black curls. His hair was loose, so it fell around his shoulders awkwardly, and over his bad eye - hiding it from view most efficiently. Both of his hands came up to rub his good eye, with the second one lingering just in front of the eye patch; habit. “What’re you doing up this early?” His head cocked to the side and he turned to sniff the air; what was that smell…? Oh. His gaze fell on the tray and he squinted before looking up at Mer. “Never mind. Breakfast duty.”

Chirruping, Ellie settled herself on R’wign’s shoulder once more and nudged his chin in undeniable affection. He reached up to stroke her before exhaling sharply. Religna’s weyr. The idea of being in his sister’s weyr made him want to fall apart… again. It was bad enough that he’d been hysterical once, though. No doubt the candidate would not want to see one of the healers and a dragon rider fall apart in a show of utter weakness, even if it did suit his mood just fine. R’wign buried all of his hurt and instead focused on pushing his hair back out of his face. His fingers worked quickly to braid it at the base of his neck as he cocked his head to look at Mer. “You must be walking your legs off. Who’s that supposed to be for…?”

[Rowana]

Merridan turned to smile at the brown fire lizard. He seemed like a clever fellow. R'wign was waking up now at least, though he didn't entirely coherent. He seemed confused and probably needed a bath too. In her experience, sleeping on cold rock was not the best way to spend a night. Mer crossed her legs and settled onto the floor herself. "You're a mess," she said flatly. She had never been one to mince words.

Mer looked at R'wign skeptically. He had to be here for a reason and wasn't being forthcoming. From what she knew of him, that was typical. Well, the least she could do was get him to eat something. That was her job after all. Mer pushed the tray of food and klah towards him. "Looks like it's for you," she announced with a wry smile.

[glamourie]

“How kind of you,” R’wign replied dryly. A mess, really, really? He thought he looked okay - better than he had when he first met Mer. He’d been coughing up blood then - he wasn’t anymore. He’d also been bandaged around the face, and was generally in an abominable amount of pain. As far as R’wign was concerned, he was doing much better. Of course, ‘better’ in that instance was circumstantial: he went from being in relatively terrible condition to not-so-bad… physically. Emotionally, he was a wreck, but there was no fixing that. There was remarkably little anyone could do to make him feel less like he’d been clobbered in the face. Only time would take away the hurt inside, and even then it wouldn’t ever completely diminish… but, being the vain creature R’wign was, he didn’t think his emotional hurt was that obvious. He liked to believe he was a better actor than that, that people didn’t see through his clown façade so easily… but maybe he’d become a worse actor since the attack. He certainly felt worse than he ever had before, like someone had taken a bat and beaten him over and over until he couldn’t feel anything anymore. Inside and out. R’wign kept that to himself. There was no reason to be sarcastic and testy with someone who was trying to be kind to him, just because he was upset. It wasn’t Mer’s fault that people close to him were dead. It was his own.

Narrowing his eye, R’wign turned his attention toward the tray of food. Truthfully, he was not at all hungry. He hadn’t been since the attack. It was hard to summon up appetite when in pain, both emotionally and physically, and he hurt all over, in places he hadn’t known he had. While he ate (because he was healer enough to know he needed to), the amount was pitifully small and he was sure that he’d begun to lose weight because of it. Realistically, he should have tried to eat more, made something of an effort to get himself back in a normal routine… but all he felt was the desire to sleep. Constantly. The infirmary wasn’t comfortable but it was better than nothing and he was looking forward to his furs, something designed for his relaxation. Given a choice, R’wign would get in bed and stay there, not rousing until he absolutely had to. He was hurt, he would argue, so he needed to rest… but the truth was, he just didn’t want to face the world. If he hid away, maybe no one would know what a bad friend he really was.

None of the food looked that appetizing. It would’ve been rude to tell Mer that, but… really, breakfast foods weren’t his forte. His gaze snared on the klah and that, he supposed, he could be bothered to drink. His hands wound around the mug and he pulled it up to his chest before scooting back so that his back was pressed flat against the wall. Both knees remained propped up and he situated himself comfortably before cocking his head to the side in his usual curious gesture. There was a lot he wanted to talk about - but she wasn’t one of his friends. He settled for keeping most of his feelings to himself, and instead brought the mug up to his lips. Satisfying. Yummy, actually.

“I heard about the hatching,” he said, trying to steer the conversation away from himself. “How’re you holding up?” He’d been sure that she would Impress. But then, he wasn’t very good at predicting Impressions. R’wign himself had stood for a disquieting amount of hatchings before finally Impressing Checkoth… but he wouldn’t have changed that for the world. Check was perfect. He was also sound asleep, and R’wign would’ve bet a big chunk of his marks that the brown was snoring. Silly beast. He was worth waiting for, in R’wign’s opinion… but then, every dragon rider thought their mindmate the best Pern had to offer, and he was willing to bet that nothing could ever change that. Did Mer have any idea how long he and M’ta had Stood? Quite awhile -- two of Aslath’s clutches, one of Millieth’s, two wher - and for M’ta, Fath’s clutch. Then they’d both Impressed at Millieth’s last… over a turn previous. Check was full-grown. So hard to imagine, that. He’d gotten so big…

[Rowana]

Mer watched R'wign closely. He wasn't in a talkative mood, that much was clear. It didn't seem likely that she would drag much out of him either. She barely knew him and he wasn't likely to open up to her so quickly. She decided not to push it. It wasn't her job to counsel dragonriders about pain and grief. Just as well, she would probably make things worse. At least he had taken some klah. It didn't look like he had been eating well. Maybe she should start making him one of her regular stops for meal deliveries.

Mer shrugged at the change of subject. "It's not important." Mer was dismissive, though a sad look of disappointment crossed her face. She shook her head and took a fruit from the tray and flashed a grin. "You won't get rid of me so easily." She took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. Maybe they could try a more positive topic. "I heard M'ta and Kale are doing better." R'wign probably already knew that, but it might be nice to be reminded of people who had survived rather than those they had lost. Mer wasn't sure if R'wign had lost any friends, but from how he was acting, it seemed likely.

[glamourie]

Being observant was one of R’wign’s better traits, but it didn’t take someone with his level of observational skills to notice the disappointment on Mer’s face. Considering he’d been in her position before (several times), he could relate. The way she dismissed the topic bothered him, and he was tempted to call her on it when she brought up M’ta and Kalerary. A weak smile crossed his face and R’wign nodded, then took another sip of his klah. Both of them were doing somewhat better, yes. Kalerary’s face was badly scarred, enough that R’wign barely could look at her without feeling hideously guilty. It wasn’t really his fault. He knew that, intellectually. She’d made her decision to try and help him, she could have gone and gotten help. But… looking at Kalerary still bothered him. Not that it kept him from visiting her when he was in the infirmary. No, on the contrary, he hovered enough that Ka’rys had (on more than one occasion, at that) sent him away in a fit of temper; evidently he was being irritating. R’wign was very good at that, even without trying to be. Pushing that memory from his mind, R’wign focused on the conversation. The slight jab at getting ‘rid’ of her was ignored; he had no counter for it, really.

“Kalerary is healing well. So is M’ta, but Kalerary is more noticeable, probably because her wounds are in such visible places,” he said, then set his mug down. “She’ll be fine. Her mood has greatly improved… or at least, she’s not sulking. She’s sort of plotting the demise of her father’s weyrmate, but I don’t know that I blame her. Savitri has that effect on people.” Considering that Savitri was going to have a baby, it wasn’t surprising that Kale was unhappy. The little girl was very obviously fond of her father and suddenly having to share him with a sibling was unappealing to her - R’wign didn’t blame her on that front. The timing was bad, but then, was pregnancy ever timed well? Half of him wanted to mock Ka’rys for his misfortune, too. Trapped with an obnoxious mother hen for life. R’wign did not envy him at all… but he did miss Marra, and thinking of Savitri made it worse. Part of him felt inclined to be mean to her just out of spite. Marra would have approved.

Bad thought. Baaaad thoughts. He forced himself to think about something slightly more appealing: hatchings. He was betting he could help (some) with Mer’s mood. Maybe. Shifting his weight, the brown weyrlingrider quirked an eyebrow, then smiled. Right eye. Always the right eye. He added it up in his head, the number: Two of Aslath’s clutches, one of Millieth’s, and two wher. “Did you know I stood five times before I Impressed?” Yes, it was an abrupt change in topic, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. “I know how it feels to be left on the Sands. You don’t have to pretend not to be bothered with me. M’ta and I are the two people here at Selenitas most likely to sympathize with you -- he’s got a six count, beat me by one hatching because he arrived sooner.” He uncurled and scooted across the floor until he was sitting next to her, then propped himself up on his hands. “I ask again: How’re you holding up?”

If she still refused to talk about it, he couldn’t force it out of her… but R’wign knew from experience how unpleasant bottling could be. After Aslath’s first hatching, he’d actually fallen apart in private. Cezine was the one who pulled him out of it, bringing him a pie and insisting he’d Impress eventually. She’d helped - a lot. Her death was one of the saddest, because he’d hardly spoken to her after Impressing. She didn’t even know Checkoth. She would have liked him, too, R’wign was sure… but then, the amount of people who didn’t like Checkoth was staggeringly low. It was hard to dislike a dragon with such a sweet demeanor. How he’d Impressed such a kind creature was beyond him. R’wign certainly wasn’t nice. But -- he had, and he wished Cezine knew him better. Part of why he wanted Mer to talk to him was because he felt, somehow, that he owed it to Mer to try… the same way Cezine had tried to help him. Someone needed to comfort the girl, even if she didn’t recognize she needed it.

[Rowana]

Mer raised an eyebrow. "Savitri?" She had never met her in person, so it was hard to tell if R'wign was serious or joking. It didn't seem like he was in a mood for jokes. She looked thoughtful and took another bite of fruit. "Well. If I were her, I'd be afraid," she commented with amusement. "Kale can be very sneaky." The image of the girl, dressed in black, loaded with knives, and sneaking up on unsuspected weyrwomen, was very funny.

But R'wign had changed the subject again, back to the hatching. She looked surprised. "Five?" Wow, that was a lot. She never would have guessed it would take that long. M'ta too. They both just seemed meant to be riders. R'wign and Checkoth fit so well together. But then, maybe that way why. If he had impressed sooner, he wouldn't have Checkoth. She frowned slightly and sighed. She really didn't know why anyone would make such a fuss over her. She could take care of herself. She was pretty sure R'wign was far more depressed. Still, if talking about it took his mind off things, she supposed she could.

"I'm disappointed," she admitted. "I won't lie. I really thought I would impress." After the attack, standing at the hatching had seemed easy. She knew she had probably been overconfident and foolishly so. But now she didn't feel so bad. If R'wign and M'ta had waiting that long, she could too. At least she wouldn't be bored in the meantime. "Don't worry about me," She gave a small wry smile. "I have plenty to keep busy. I just hope it doesn't take five or six hatchings for me."

[glamourie]

Mer didn’t know. Oh, that was funny. R’wign decided not to share the extra tidbit of information; if Mer hadn’t picked up on Savitri’s pregnancy yet, he wasn’t about to let everyone know. He only knew because Ka’rys had told him. Though they acted like squabbling children in public much of the time, the bronze rider really was practically family to R’wign. He knew more about Ka’rys than the average person - and it only made sense, knowing that, that he was aware of Savitri’s state. Though, even if Ka’rys hadn’t told him, it wouldn’t have taken a healer to deduce with the slight change in her waistline indicated. He was observant, and she was beginning to show. That or she’d suddenly packed on more pounds -- but since he knew going in what the reason was, it made sense. Ka’rys wasn’t the only one to tell R’wign, though. Kalerary told him as well, in a fit of tears as she’d hugged him, “How come I’m only good enough for you?” He’d spent an hour consoling the upset child. She was not happy at the idea of having a sibling… and R’wign wasn’t sure how to convinced her that it wasn’t the end of the world.

“You have no idea. That little girl is probably the most dangerous person in Selenitas. Those she can’t win over by brute force, she melts to her will by sheer cute,” R’wign proclaimed with a serious nod. “But -- I don’t think Savitri has too much to worry about. Worst Kalerary will do is dye her clothes, and to be honest, it’d be funny to watch our Junior Weyrwoman run around in obnoxious pink constantly. I, at least, would find it immensely amusing. I should encourage her…” Although, somehow he doubted that Savitri would really care if she got stuck wearing pink for too long… and that Kalerary needed any encouragement to be devious with Savitri. As much fun as it was to tease, he was being honest: the gold rider seemed to particularly offend Kalerary, and he really had no idea why… except maybe jealous. She was Ka’rys’s daughter. Hmm…

Shaking his head, R’wign relaxed - noticeably. Discussing anything kept his mind from where he was. Thinking about Religna made him want to ball up and just fall apart, and Mer didn’t deserve to see him lose it. There were very few people he trusted enough to display that level of emotion around and the candidate wasn’t one of them. It wasn’t personal. He just didn’t do well with expressing himself. For all of his playful antics, R’wign was northern bred, and he couldn’t pretend to be someone he wasn’t. Secretive natures were common in the north-- for sheer safety reasons. And he was better at it than most people because he didn’t make it obvious how secretive he actually was.

Propping himself up on his hands, the brown rider crinkled his nose slightly. “Five,” he said again, with a slight nod. “Aslath’s first clutch, she actually threw me off the Sands. Then there was Millieth’s first clutch, Aslath’s second clutch and two wher clutches. Only at Millieth’s second clutch did either of us manage to Impress - and the only browns of the clutch.” His head cocked to the side, and he traced a circular pattern on the stone floor with his finger tips before raising an eyebrow. “I doubt it’ll take you quite that long. I would’ve thought that you would Impress, too - I mean, I thought you were a shoe-in. But -- I’m living proof eventually you’ll Impress and any amount of waiting makes it seem worthwhile. Though, I’ll admit -- getting thrown off the Sands because I simply wasn’t good enough for the Senior Queen was an embarrassing situation I’ll never let go of…”

[Rowana]

"Pink?!" Mer looked horrified and disgusted at the thought. Pink was, in her opinion, one of the worst colors ever. Except if it was a flower. Mer glanced at R'wign again and chuckled. "I'd hate to be on Kale's bad side," she concluded with a firm nod. She felt a little sorry for Savitri, but not sorry enough to warn her. Seeing the junior weyrwoman walking around in bright pink clothing was too funny to pass up. "I hope they can get along eventually, though," Mer added, musing. Her family had had its share of quarrels in the past. They were never much fun.

Mer winced at R'wigns list of clutches. "Thrown off? Ouch. I'm glad Millieth didn't do that to me. I might not have bothered to stay." She looked at the older boy with renewed respect. She couldn't imagine what angering a queen would have been like, but it can't have been pretty. In her opinion, it took courage to stand again after something like that and even more to stand at Aslath's next clutch. She smiled. R'wign seemed to be relaxing some, that was something at least. "I guess it's true what they say. Sometimes you just got to wait for your dragon to be shelled. I think Checkoth and Behruth are two of the best." Of course, she hadn't met many others so far, but that didn't make the statement any less true.

She looked at him gratefully. "Nice to know someone else was routing for me. Thanks." At least someone else had thought she would impress to. It was encouraging and gave her hope. If R'wign thought she could impress someday then by Faranth she was going to stick around until she did! Even if it took seven clutches.

[glamourie]

“I’m sure they will,” R’wign replied with a nod meant to reassure. It was unlikely that Kalerary would remain angry with her father’s weyrmate for very long; the girl was not without compassion. She’d eventually stop being angry with the gold rider, probably once the shock of being a sibling kicked in. Until then, though, well - it wasn’t his problem. “She’s a scary one though. Little fighter, that girl…” Kalerary was like family to R’wign, in some ways. With Religna being gone, she was the closest thing to a sister he had (minus Kalierre, but that was different) and he felt a very strong surge of affection for how tough she was. Then again, Kalerary had saved his life and he was able to recognize that, even if admitting it was a matter of embarrassment to R’wign. It was a disgrace that he had to have a child save his life, so unable to do so on his own was he. And he hadn’t even been able to protect the people most important to him, just what was he good at?

Pushing that thought from his mind, R’wign blinked twice, then looked down at the floor. “Of the two of them, Millieth’s demeanor is much better than Aslath’s was. Did you ever meet her? If you didn’t, be glad.” Lifting his shirt with one hand, R’wign indicated the scars lining his torso up to his spine. There were four white marks trailing all the way up his waist, all around. His shirt hid the ones just under his collar bone, which were the less severe of the marks. “These came from felines, when I was seventeen. Paryal - a gold weyrlingrider - was attacked by them out by the river, a pack of the wild ones. Z’hin, myself and Paryal all got mangled badly. Z’hin lost the use of his arm. I got these injuries… Paryal just had scratches on her back. I was the only one without a dragon there, so… I got hurt pretty bad. I was still healing when Aslath’s clutch hatched, that’s why she had me thrown off the Sands. S’rei of Salenth, then Weyrleader, made me promise to still Stand. I was going to quit trying… but he kind of threatened me if I didn’t at least Stand. I didn’t Impress - but my friend K’lir did.”

K’lir of Green Calistoth; they were relatively well-known for Calistoth’s bad attitude, but whether or not the girl had ever met him was not something R’wign was aware of. He shook his head and then smiled weakly. “I sort of did give up-- until the clutch Check came from. Kaegan asked me to Stand. She and I are friends.” He hadn’t actually touched any eggs at her Touching, and he’d been awkward at the Hatching, but -- no sense telling Mer that. It would probably just make her feel weird. “I can’t imagine ever Impressing any dragon but him, and I’m biased; in my opinion, he’s the best dragon ever to hatch on Pern, two tails or not.” Shrugging one shoulder, R’wign smiled. “When he wakes up, I’m sure he’ll be grateful to know you think that, too. He thinks highly of you.”

Taking his klah, R’wign eyed the tray of food skeptically. He wasn’t really hungry - understandably so. But that begged the question -- “Not to stray from the topic or anything, but do you know where my weyr’s been moved? I asked them to move it after - after my weyrmate died in my last one.” Awkward explanation, but he didn’t believe in lying to someone, and his brain to mouth filter wasn’t working properly anyway. Caused partially by depression, that was, but mostly just pain and exhaustion. Just because he was allowed out of the infirmary didn’t mean that he was in a good state. Far from. “I don’t think they moved it far, but I haven’t the foggiest idea where… They told me, but I forgot, and Check’s not awake to ask.” He could wake the brown up but that would be embarrassing. Plus it would just distress Check. He didn’t want to worry his mindmate if he could help it.

[Rowana]

"No, I never met Aslath," Mer admitted. The was a little sorry at that. She had heard the old Weyrwoman was from Hyphen like her. She would have liked to meet her. But fate was against that. It had been a sad day for Pern when she died. Mer winced at R'wign's scars. "Ouch. That looks like it was nasty. I guess felines are a pain everywhere in the South." She had rarely seen them herself, but her older brothers spot of them when they went out with caravans. "I'm glad Kaegan asked you," she went on. "It must have been so frustrating watching everyone else impress after so many hatchings." It didn't seem to compare to her own feelings. She had only been left at one so far.

"I'm sorry about your werymate." Mer had no idea how close they might have been, but if R'wign had asked to be moved they must have at least been friends. "But you're in luck. I actually do know where your weyr is." R'wign was on her list of people to make sure ate meals. She had learned where all these weyrs were and with all her trips back and forth, she was learning the paths quite well. "I can show you." Mer picked up her tray and stood. R'wign still hadn't eaten anything, but at least he wasn't looking so bad anymore. She could leave him food in his room.

[glamourie]

Not a devastating loss, in R’wign’s opinion. Of the three (now two) Queens Selenitas had, Aslath was by far his least favorite. Also the smallest, as her size was literally the same as Ciceroth’s. As far as he knew, Ciceroth was mammoth for a bronze, but it still seemed bizarre to him that any queen would be the same size as a bronze. Weren’t their clutches determined primarily by their size? Clutch quality, at least? Aslath had produced some nice ones -- the clutch that hatched Calistoth had three bronzes, and the one that hatched Hepaticath had two bronzes and a queen - but… well, he thought Checkoth was the best dragon on Pern, and as far as he was concerned, no matter how large the clutch was, or how many metallics that a queen spat out, none would compare to his mindmate. In R’wign’s opinion, Aslath was not that impressive. He’d liked her rider just fine (Shmee shared her pies with him, after all) but the dragon herself -- he harbored a great deal of resentment with her for emphasizing the fear of dragons that he’d possessed for nearly two turns.

“I spent a long time in the infirmary afterwards,” he admitted, but the injuries to his side didn’t really compare to the ones he had to his lungs from the attack. Strenuous activities tended to cause an extreme shortness of breath for him and he couldn’t hold his breath for long at all. Keeping that thought to himself, R’wign pushed himself up to a standing position and stretched out as best he could. The scars on his sides made him think of Marra, which in turn sent a wave of unhappiness though him. After he got hurt, she’d stayed with him unwaveringly. That was the first time he’d ever realized how much she cared. Every second seemed longer without her there… even though he’d been distant because of the poisonings. When she died, did she know how much he’d loved her? … he liked to think she did…

Jutting his chin up, R’wign nodded slightly. “You’re probably the only one who is.” It wasn’t meant to be a sarcastic comment, but… Marra did not have very many friends. R’wign was probably the only person left alive who truly mourned her absence. “She wasn’t really a very popular figure. I mean -- not-- I loved her. But I don’t think very many other people did.” ‘Harpy’ was a common nickname. Harper though she was, Marra did not have the pleasant demeanor of most of her craft. Voice like something out of a dream, though, and he knew her better than most; he got to see a side of her that she didn’t show the world, and R’wign thought she was amazing. But he wasn’t foolish enough to think that anyone else believed there was more to her than just the nastiness she presented outwardly…

“I’d like it if you could take me, yeah. Sorry I didn’t eat anything. Infirmary food - even makeshift - sort of burns you on eating,” he said with a nod. He was well-aware that it was rude not to eat what was brought to him but truthfully, R’wign just wanted to bathe and sleep again. He felt dirty, icky, and… exhausted. Emotionally and physically. He’d probably have to unpack, though… perfect. Maybe someone was considerate enough to put his rather massive pile of blankets in one place so he could pile them onto his furs and sleep properly. He really did miss all of them (and R’wign had enough blankets to make a fortress if he’d felt so inclined; he required a suitably soft bed to placate his vanity, thank you). “Um… lead on, I guess…? And I’ll follow…”