Post by Faerie Fyre on Apr 3, 2010 0:09:01 GMT -5
After Breuth had eaten his first meal, Phaela given her first bath, and the two had chosen their room in the weyrling barracks, it was time for some rather ugly truths to be aired.
Phaela hadn't come to Skysong with much in the way of clothing, so the trip to the Candidates barracks had produced only one scant armful of clothing. It also hadn't taken nearly as long as Phaela felt it should, and that lost time was also a lost opportunity to think up something to tell Breuth.
Impression was wonderful, don't let anyone tell you it isn't, but Phaela had several Turns of inferiority and fear ground deep into her personality. A dragon was not, repeat, not going to change that overnight. No matter how loving and accepting her brown hatchling was, only one person could free Phaela from the prison she had locked herself into - Phaela.
"Great, Phae. You went and made a mess of everything. How is Breuth going to react when you tell him that you'll only hurt him?"
Her barely-audible whisper had been her closest companion ever since Acid transfigured her into...this...monstrous thing. Sometimes she spoke to herself, especially when something troubling came up. Like Impression. She had been so happy on the Sands when Breuth came up to her! But now, Breuth was dozing after the excitement of hatching, and Phaela was left alone with her thoughts. Thoughts of fear, an inarticulate longing for something better, and a devastating knowledge that nothing could change crowded her mind. Pern was hidebound - it didn't react well to change.
There was only one action the weyr could take in retaliation against a presumptive monster who dared Impress that made sense to Phaela's conditioned mind, and just thinking about it made her throat close up and her chest tighten. What could the weyrleaders do to punish her, but take her dragon away? Even though they had been joined for maybe two hours - at the most - Phaela found it incredibly hard to imagine life without her Breuth. The brown was the only living thing since she had been mutated to accept her whole-heartedly. He had called her beautiful, for crying out loud! And as practical as Phaela had always prided herself on being, she did not want to give up the illusion of love just yet.
But she had to. There was no cure for it, and just thinking about losing the one being who loved her made it difficult to breathe.
"No help for it, Phae. Get in that room, and talk to Breuth."
Taking a deep breath, Phaela pushed her new door open to see Breuth not dozing, as she had assumed, but wide awake, and looking right at her.
Whatever it is, get it off your chest now. We have too many Turns ahead of us together to waste time in stupidity. Talk to me, Mine.
The light brown's voice held only the barest trace of rancor, and the only undertone was a need to reassure His.
"Look at me, Breuth! What am I doing with a dragon? By all rights, I shouldn't even be here. I should be, should still be on the Northern Continent and hiding from the world. Not here, where there are people. Not taking a dragon that belongs to somebody else, and not -"
The rest of the argument was cut off with a hatchling version of an adult's angry bellow. Not nearly as menacing, but it got the point across.
Stop. That. PhaeMine, you are MINE. I could have chosen one of the other candidates, couldn't I? There was no physical boundaries I would have crossed in accepting another, I don't think. Did I choose a boy? No, I chose YOU and I chose you for a reason. You are perfect in my eyes, PhaeMine, so please stop beating yourself up?
Phaela stripped off her candidate's robe, and showed the brown her scarred, bumpy, magenta-turning-black skin. One cut on her thigh was barely scabbed over, and a hint of crimson could be seen at the edges. Long pink lines crisscrossed over her shoulders and back, showing where she had been struck hard enough to draw blood. Lumps formed wherever two lines intersected, indicating a wound that had healed and then been split open at a later time. The thick lines indicating her very solid ribs stood out rather starkly from her sunken flesh, proof that she had subsisted for Turns on less food than the average person should consume.
All together, her appearance said 'monster'. Phaela knew this fact well, and waited for Breuth to change his mind.
The dragon is never wrong, PhaeMine. I picked you for who you are on the inside, not what you look like. You are exactly who I need, and I am exactly right for you. Can you accept that, PhaeMine?
Though his words were admonishing, Breuth never spoke in a tone less than completely loving and accepting. He sent a wave of happy feelings to His, swamping her misguidance in favor of his love. Phaela faltered, her knees trying to give out on her. She lost the battle to keep her feet, and crashed down to her knees. Love was a much, much heavier emotion than what she was familiar with, and would probably always take her by storm. She wrapped her arms around herself, and felt Breuth's sheltering wings protect her. She was safe; she was loved; and most importantly, she had Breuth.
"Sorry, Breuth. Forgive me for doubting you?"
The feather-light wings tightened around her, and Phaela felt another assurance of love.
Of course, Mine. You should probably get dressed for the Feast.
"Okay"
Phaela hadn't come to Skysong with much in the way of clothing, so the trip to the Candidates barracks had produced only one scant armful of clothing. It also hadn't taken nearly as long as Phaela felt it should, and that lost time was also a lost opportunity to think up something to tell Breuth.
Impression was wonderful, don't let anyone tell you it isn't, but Phaela had several Turns of inferiority and fear ground deep into her personality. A dragon was not, repeat, not going to change that overnight. No matter how loving and accepting her brown hatchling was, only one person could free Phaela from the prison she had locked herself into - Phaela.
"Great, Phae. You went and made a mess of everything. How is Breuth going to react when you tell him that you'll only hurt him?"
Her barely-audible whisper had been her closest companion ever since Acid transfigured her into...this...monstrous thing. Sometimes she spoke to herself, especially when something troubling came up. Like Impression. She had been so happy on the Sands when Breuth came up to her! But now, Breuth was dozing after the excitement of hatching, and Phaela was left alone with her thoughts. Thoughts of fear, an inarticulate longing for something better, and a devastating knowledge that nothing could change crowded her mind. Pern was hidebound - it didn't react well to change.
There was only one action the weyr could take in retaliation against a presumptive monster who dared Impress that made sense to Phaela's conditioned mind, and just thinking about it made her throat close up and her chest tighten. What could the weyrleaders do to punish her, but take her dragon away? Even though they had been joined for maybe two hours - at the most - Phaela found it incredibly hard to imagine life without her Breuth. The brown was the only living thing since she had been mutated to accept her whole-heartedly. He had called her beautiful, for crying out loud! And as practical as Phaela had always prided herself on being, she did not want to give up the illusion of love just yet.
But she had to. There was no cure for it, and just thinking about losing the one being who loved her made it difficult to breathe.
"No help for it, Phae. Get in that room, and talk to Breuth."
Taking a deep breath, Phaela pushed her new door open to see Breuth not dozing, as she had assumed, but wide awake, and looking right at her.
Whatever it is, get it off your chest now. We have too many Turns ahead of us together to waste time in stupidity. Talk to me, Mine.
The light brown's voice held only the barest trace of rancor, and the only undertone was a need to reassure His.
"Look at me, Breuth! What am I doing with a dragon? By all rights, I shouldn't even be here. I should be, should still be on the Northern Continent and hiding from the world. Not here, where there are people. Not taking a dragon that belongs to somebody else, and not -"
The rest of the argument was cut off with a hatchling version of an adult's angry bellow. Not nearly as menacing, but it got the point across.
Stop. That. PhaeMine, you are MINE. I could have chosen one of the other candidates, couldn't I? There was no physical boundaries I would have crossed in accepting another, I don't think. Did I choose a boy? No, I chose YOU and I chose you for a reason. You are perfect in my eyes, PhaeMine, so please stop beating yourself up?
Phaela stripped off her candidate's robe, and showed the brown her scarred, bumpy, magenta-turning-black skin. One cut on her thigh was barely scabbed over, and a hint of crimson could be seen at the edges. Long pink lines crisscrossed over her shoulders and back, showing where she had been struck hard enough to draw blood. Lumps formed wherever two lines intersected, indicating a wound that had healed and then been split open at a later time. The thick lines indicating her very solid ribs stood out rather starkly from her sunken flesh, proof that she had subsisted for Turns on less food than the average person should consume.
All together, her appearance said 'monster'. Phaela knew this fact well, and waited for Breuth to change his mind.
The dragon is never wrong, PhaeMine. I picked you for who you are on the inside, not what you look like. You are exactly who I need, and I am exactly right for you. Can you accept that, PhaeMine?
Though his words were admonishing, Breuth never spoke in a tone less than completely loving and accepting. He sent a wave of happy feelings to His, swamping her misguidance in favor of his love. Phaela faltered, her knees trying to give out on her. She lost the battle to keep her feet, and crashed down to her knees. Love was a much, much heavier emotion than what she was familiar with, and would probably always take her by storm. She wrapped her arms around herself, and felt Breuth's sheltering wings protect her. She was safe; she was loved; and most importantly, she had Breuth.
"Sorry, Breuth. Forgive me for doubting you?"
The feather-light wings tightened around her, and Phaela felt another assurance of love.
Of course, Mine. You should probably get dressed for the Feast.
"Okay"
