The Hatching Feast

[ricci]

Time Setting: Approximately 2 hours after the Hatching (The Weyrlings should have had time to rest)


It was a challenge, to decorate for the ending of this particular Hatching. Sadness and mourning was expected, but so too was joy and celebration. But ultimately, T'veren had decided that today should be a somber event. The death of the woman he loved would be finished today. So he had given Ranis directions, and then he had left for the Hatching. He would not be seen in the formal hall again, not over the near sevenday leading up, nor the day of. S'rus had done much of the preparatory work with Ranis, offering his hand a good three or so days before in preparing appropriate formal decorations, and helping decide upon an appropriate feast; it was always best to give wiggle-room. Nobody really knew when Hatchings would begin. These were not jobs that normally fell to the Candidate Master, so he was somewhat clumsy, but normally it would have been Maai or T'veren or Mairin, and all were in someway indisposed. Maai, most of all.

So here they were. S'rus had been among the first to arrive after the disastrous Hatching had completed. He had left, in fact, before the last eggs had Hatched. He could do little to help at the Hatching Sands, and he wanted to make sure that at least the feast went flawlessly. He got word from Finranth that the Hatching had wrapped itself up, and S'rus was helping put the last decorations up.

The table at the front of the hall, where the Weyrleaders and Wingleaders and Masters would sit, was swathed in black, with streamers in all the colors of the Weyr's dragon hanging down almost sadly in front of each placesetting. Other than Gold and Bronze in front of Maai's place and T'veren's place... or rather, what would have been their places, the colors were not indicative of dragon ranks. But they made a pretty display. Again, with T'veren's wishes, it was not gaudy. T'veren had wanted to treat today like a memorial service, and who was to stop him?

The tables were covered in stark, white table cloths. Wine skins adorned each table but the Weyrling Table, which had precisely twelve seats along it. It would be only once the Weyrling Master had roused the Weyrlings that the others would begin to flow in to look at the starkly colored formal Hall, with Drudges waiting apprehensively with food to serve. But by now, the Weyrlings had been roused, and the announcement had gone out that the Feast was to begin in proper. People who had been caught between celebrating and mourning out in the 'Bowl were corraled in by Drudges who politely indicated that it was time for supper. Coming in, people began to wonder if they were allowed to smile.

S'rus, standing in front of the leaders' table, was ready to give his welcoming message... a job normally reserved for the Weyrleader. But there was no Weyrleader. Not without a dragon to hold his position up.

As the Weyrlings filed in, S'rus carefully and sadly counted their numbers. Once the Hall was filled and only a few were scurrying in, he held up his hand.

"Good Evening," S'rus began.

"T'veren should have been the one standing before you here today, as I am sure many of you have already noted. It pains me and saddens me deeply to turn this joyous and momentous occasion into what also must be a memorial, a funeral. I ask for silence in memory of all those who we have lost in these past sevendays. To Maai and Grenth, our Weyrwoman and her Queen. To Green Tarisk, who valiantly tried to chase down Maai's murderer but was instead lost. We remember Enpiceth, Bronze of T'veren, whose bravery was his own demise. Finally, we remember that who we did not even know, who never escaped the shell. Let us take this moment to remember each of them."

S'rus allowed silence to fall over the Hall. A baby chuckled in the background somewhere, and a small child fidgeted uncomfortably. Some men coughed in various parts of the room, trying to hide the tears that many women did not bother hiding. He sighed, and carried on.

"I have never been prouder in my turns as Candidate Master than today. Today, the Candidates of this Weyr braved a sadder and more troubled Hatching than we at Solace have encountered in our living memory. Candidates from both within the Weyr and without struggled to face a Hatching in which the Weyrwoman could not stand over them protectively. And they succeeded. Not all of our Weyrlings are here today, some injured grievously, and their recovery is uncertain. But let it be known that despite everything, despite all of the pain we witnessed today, despite our losses, that I hold great expectations for this Weyrling Class, because how better to practice and train for adversity, than to face it head on?

"In these times of great difficulty, I know that it is these young people with their young dragons who will provide us with hope and strength. To those of you who remained Standing, and to those of you who were not Candidates today, be you child or veteran Wingrider, I ask that you provide these youth with as much support as you can. These dragons are the future of the fighting Weyr, and I can proudly say as Candidate Master that I look forward to the coming turns working with these young men and women.

"Thank you."

He bowed towards Mairin, who would now give her own speech, in place of what should have been Maai. He nodded to her, and took his place at the table.

[lredd011]

K'ben had been one of the lucky ones. He had Impressed early in the Hatching and had left the Sands before the chaos ensued, along with L'ren and C'assel. News had traveled quickly though. And Kukuruth, along with the other dragons in the Weyr, had joined in the mourning, kreeling sadly for the death of his mother and father and the humans that had been injured. K'ben had wanted to go back to the sands, especially when he heard Caelen had been among the ones fatally wounded. But it was probably for the best that they hadn't allowed anyone, aside from the teams of healers, to enter the sands. K'ben wouldn't have known what to do anyways. And he had responsibilities now. He had a dragon. The reality of it all was still sinking in. And although K'ben was aware that all of the injured had steadily beating hearts for now, and even more amazingly, each had Impressed, it did not change the fact that K'ben felt strange walking into the Dining Hall now for a Feast and there would be three empty chairs where his fellow Weyrlings would have been sitting. It should have been a time for celebration, but instead, it was a time for mourning.

Kukuruth reached out to His mentally, trying to comfort him, sending him feelings of hope, and nudging him gently to take his seat at the Weyrling Table. 'Don't worry, K'ben-Mine. This will pass. My brothers and sisters, they are strong for Theirs. They will get through this. They will help each other. We will help them too. K'ben is a good friend, and so is Kukuruth.'

K'ben nodded slowly and took his seat, resting a hand on top of the head of the merely hours old blue dragon. He glanced around the table now to see who else had joined the ranks of Weyrlinghood and who else had managed to leave the Sands unscathed. A few of the faces he recognized, and others he was less familiar with. But soon, that would not matter. Soon they would be in Weyrling lessons together. He had a feeling they would soon get to know each other intimately. K'ben was no longer the Harper from Cliff Hold. He was a Dragonrider. And this is not at all how he imagined it would feel.

K'ben went through the motions and raised his glass at the appropriate moments as everyone else did. And though S'rus's message was hopeful, K'ben struggled to convince himself of the words. His mind kept wandering to C'len, his closest friend at the Weyr. He wanted to visit his friend. But part of him was afraid to - he had heard the murmurs about the young man who had been crushed beneath the weight of Once Senior Queen Grenth. But C'len had been a friend to K'ben; had helped him so much when he didn't have to. K'ben would be there for C'len in return. Still, the fear of the unknown haunted K'ben, made it difficult to concentrate on any of the words being said.

---

K'ben was not the only one to struggle with coming to grips with reality. Illissa had all but written off becoming a Dragonrider. She had found other callings, devoting herself to them religiously - if Pern had a concept of religion, that is. And in the midst of everything, Whosoath found her. It was simply mind-boggling. And now there was a Feast to attend to. Illissa wore nothing fancy. It didn't feel appropriate given the current circumstances. In fact, she dressed in black, though she almost always wore bright colors.

'Oh, Illissa, are we late? I DO hope we're not late. This Feast is important, is it not? It certainly feels important.' Whosoath shifted uneasily, prancing in place, glancing up at Hers anxiously.

We're not late, Whosoath. We're right on time. Illissa reassured her dragon, still trying to get used to the airy, though slightly nervous, voice of the young green. Illissa placed a long, slender hand on Whosoath's head and urged her to walk forward with her into the dining hall. She took a seat at the Weyrling Table, and waited to see who would join them. It felt strange to be sitting here now. She had helped prepare this same meal countless times before. And now here she was, partaking in it. As a Dragonrider.

She turned to face the Candidate Master as he addressed them, her expression somber. At the mention of everyone pulling their weight, images of the mysterious girl she had helped flashed in her mind. She hadn't thought of the girl since Impressing Whosoath, which was understandable she supposed. But until S'rus had mentioned those injured, Illissa hadn't been quite sure if it had all been real. Illissa had felt like she was having an out of body experience working on the Sands - watching some sort of alternate reality. But it had been real. There was a girl with striking similarities to herself that she had never met before. And she had given that girl her own blood, possibly saving her life. Or at least prolonging it. But she couldn't take all the credit. The Copper she had Impressed perhaps deserved the most credit. And His presence would be crucial now in the days that followed.

It was difficult for Illissa to remain composed at the words that S'rus so simply, but eloquently stated. The future of Solace was uncertain. But somehow, in this time of trial, Illissa felt closer to the people of the Weyr, to the people sitting beside her whom she hardly knew, than ever before.

She turned her head now as S'rus introduced Mairin, waiting to hear what words their new Weyrwoman would impart on them.

[danaphantom]

If there was one common theme for the day, it would be pain.

Pain from knowing the last of Maai's legacy was coming to pass. Pain from knowing that Grenth's madness had finally bore a shadow into the heart of a dragon. Pain from knowing that two would never know life, three were on the border of losing theirs, and countless others would never see life the same.

Pain and confusion. L'ren felt a sick, twisting ache in his gut; worry, fear, guilt stabbed into him, making him nauseous. Still, he could not... he would not allow himself to hide in the shadows. There was too much bliss. Fahimth's sing-song voice chimed in his head. How could he be sad when this was the happiest day of his life?

But C'len... he hadn't seen his brother in hours. All he had to go on were rumors, and even he knew to take them with a boulder of salt. Still, with nothing better to base his thoughts off of...

Conclusions without data is unacceptable, Mine. Even hypotheses must be based upon fact.

L'ren let out a mirthless grunt in response, reaching out to his logical dragonet and rubbing her leaf-pattered eyeridge. "I know," he muttered, gaze trailing to one of the empty seats. A chair his brother should have been sitting in.

Do not dwell on their misfortune. Our responsibility is to continue for them. Despite trying to be the voice of reason, Fahimth was notably demure. Her voice was nearly flat - nearly. Coping with L'ren's anguish, despite his efforts to block it from her, as well as the returning ache in her shoulder as the numbweed wore off distracted her slightly from properly flourishing her words.

"Hmm." It wasn't really a reply, but it was better than nothing. L'ren tore his gaze from the head table (not that he was really paying attention to S'rus or Mairin) and went searching through the crowd for a particular rider he remembered promising that he'd win the dance contest with. Or something to that effect. At least something positive was in his mind now.

Of course, Keeliah was likely sitting with another. Norra, too, was much more grim than usual. Nary a smile played on her face, but she was still far from somber. Stoic, perhaps, but at least she was middling-to-positive. It was a sad day, and she was mourning the loss of her Weyrwoman and several dragons. But over there were new lives, new dragonriders. Faces she recognized from when she searched them. The Bluerider would have agreed wholeheartedly with S'rus, had she been really listening. Stuffy old men were not that interesting, so her attention drifted about.

[lredd011]

Keeliah indeed could be found sitting next to her new weyrmate. And like the Bluerider, Keeliah's usually cheery demeanor was somewhat absent as she sat and listened to the words delivered by the Candidate Master. She glanced over at Norra, noticing her attention floating about the room and the corners of her mouth turned upwards into a slight smile. That was typical Norra. You couldn't keep her sitting in one place for very long.

Keeliah now let her own attention drift, settling on the Weyrling Table. As she scanned the table to see which Candidates had found their Bondmates that day, she locked eyes with a certain Larien, or L'ren rather. She offered him a smile, and suddenly remembered she had promised him another dance. But this hardly seemed like the time or place. And she wasn't sure he would feel like dancing anyways, not with his brother being all but crushed into oblivion. She had been there to see the aftermath, had held the young man's hand and stared into his eyes which at times had been hollow and vacant; unseeing. But he had survived and he had Impressed, which was something. There was much to be thankful for, to be hopeful for. But it was difficult to look at his brother now, knowing what she knew about C'len's condition. Which wasn't all that much, to be honest. No one really knew the full extent of the damage. Only time would tell, to use the cliche.

If L'ren wanted to talk to her, she would be there for him. She tried to communicate that to him from across the room with her expression. Would he get the message? She was sure he would. They had gotten along so well when they first met; it was if they had known each other for ages. And though Keeliah had been flustered by the end of their meeting and had been avoiding him rather religiously, recent events tossed all of that out the window. Whatever reservations she had were now replaced with the mindset that she would be a friend to him. That she would be available to him whenever he needed her. No more avoiding. Just friends, Keeliah told herself. Everyone could use more of those, right?

[spades]

Sh'kal of Red Laohuth
To K'ben

Sh’kal had never considered himself a terribly lucky individual. As a weyrbrat, his life consisted of a lot of chores, and as Sharkal, it also consisted of a lot of fights. Given, the young man started the majority of these scuffles, trying to impress someone or trying to prove a point to someone else. He was scrawny in his youth (in fact, the lad was still growing a bit, one of those late bloomers as he was), and often got himself knocked around with a black eye or a bloody nose. His nose was still crooked, in fact, never fully healed after having broken it so many times. But, here he was, virtually unharmed after the Hatching despite Grenth’s rampage (that left both M’tel and Caelen and that girl he didn’t know severely injured). More important, he had a bright red dragon by his side, the little hatchling marching proudly along. There was a feast to attend to, after all.

When Laohuth noticed her rider dragging his feet, she glanced over her shoulder, blue eyes piercing into her newly made rider. Sh'kalmine. Come along. We're late. It won't do. Her voice still startled the blond, a rich, unnerving purr. He could all but feel the tiger red curl around him when she spoke, like there was actually a tiny feline rubbing up against his equally small brain. With a small shiver, the young man nodded, lengthening his stride to keep up with the svelte dragon. “Sorry. I was just wondering about the other boys…” With a shrug, he brushed it off. The Weyr would know if they died now, their little dragons would jump between and their brothers and sisters would feel it.

The red gave a small snort, her tail lashing hither and fro as she paced alongside her partner. Morbid, she commented, though there were no hints of disproval as she waited for Hers to push open the door to the Hall. The Feast was not nearly as exciting as those past, the young weyrlings all standing around, several of their mates missing. Even the older dragon riders seemed to be quiet - and why not? The senior Queen had just died, and taken the Weyrleader’s dragon and some of her children with her. The tiger whuffled softly and sighed. I daresay we deserve more welcome than this. We have done nothing wrong.

Shark made a small noise, hinting at his agreement. Scanning the crowd, he finally spotted a familiar face. The youth had hoped he’d see G’vril, the friend who’d left him behind when he Impressed his iron. A small pang of regret rippled through his chest and he swallowed hard. My brothers are foolish, Mine. Do not regret the choice I have made, Laohuth prompted, nudging her boy onwards. Eventually, he made it to where K’ben was stationed, eyeing the boy he had met shortly before the Hatching took place. Now the Harper was one of the only boys still standing. After a moment, he decided to sit across from the brunet. “Hey.” The blond ground his teeth - one could almost see the gears turning as he fished for something else to say. “Kind of a…” What? Sad? Morbid? “Kind of a drag, isn’t it.”

With a dignified sigh, Laohuth settled down next to her boy, eyes flickering to the weyrling that accompanied the young man Sh’kal seemed to recognize. A blue. She hadn’t met this brother of hers, no, the silly iron had been trying to take the stage when she she’d broken free from her prison and slunk across the Sands, finding Hers without a single question. Brother, she reached out for the weyrling. How are you and yours? Such a dreary get together, don't you think?

[spades]

A'ur of Iron Gideoth
To S'rus

Eugh. Must you, Mine? We have better things to do than make nice with silly babies. Your hatchling didn't even Impress this time. Again.

Gideoth’s last comment made his rider grit his teeth, the one-eyed brunet pushing his dark brown hair out of his face as he scowled. Leave it to his partner, his closest bond, to rub salt in the wounds. Of course, A’ur was a little stressed after the past Hatching. The Senior Queen finally went, thank Faranth, but she took her bronze son, her bronze mate and her little green daughter with her. She ruined three dragon riders in a single swoop. He’d never known T’veren beyond his role, but the man had been a decent Weyrleader. The rider never had many complaints. Now the Weyr was left with an inexperienced Queen, and no mate to help guide her. If he were Southern, he would certainly strike now. Mutiny. I like it.

Ignoring his Iron, A’ur continued to grouse. On top of the death, on top of the maiming, Bennet still hadn’t Impressed. The girl was getting older, she needed to step up and get that dragon of hers. (At least she didn’t end up like the weyrlings in the infirmary, but A’ur couldn’t speak much against permanent disfigurement. He was one eye down, after all.) Despite Gideoth’s desire otherwise, he was going to attend the Feast. He wasn’t sure if his daughter would be present, but he wished to speak to the young Weyrwoman and see how she was. What was being done for the ex-Weyrleader? (A’ur didn’t even know the man’s name now.)

If you ever decide to croak, you sour beast, do me the favor of taking me with you, the brunet commented dryly, scanning the room for some of the older riders. He didn’t even see G’vril. When in doubt, Ironriders should really stick together. Nothing. Instead, there was S’rus, who’d finished giving a rather morbid speech. Ugh, the rider thought to himself, slowly working his way through the crowd to address the bronze rider.

What did I tell you, shardit? You never listen. Why do I put up with you?

Ignoring the peanut gallery, A’ur cleared his throat, allowing his dark brown fringe to fall back over his missing eye as he tried to catch the candidate master’s attention. “S’rus. If you have a moment?”

[ricci]

S'rus was hoping that Mairin would come up to the front before he even got down, but he understood when she didn't. She was in a new, eternally heavy position. One that she would be unable to escape for turns and turns. And given the first day on the job, things weren't exactly going swell... S'rus understood, and so he had made sure that people were in fact eating (they could set their forks down when she came up...if they didn't, S'rus would be agitated). S'rus sighed as he stepped down, not quite ready to take his place at the head table. He wanted to circulate, see how his Candidates were doing, how the new Weyrlings were feeling. Certainly some of them looked quite bleary eyed as he glanced their way. But before he could reach either Candidate or Weyrling to listen to Mairin's speech, S'rus noted a certain Ironrider a short ways away.

"A'ur, of course," S'rus returned. Somehow, he could feel responsibility pouring onto his shoulders like it hadn't before. People, not just Candidates, seeking him out? But then, Mairin had also asked him to give the speech normally given by the Weyrleader. He was beginning to wonder what was in store for him, given the uncertain nature of the Weyr at the present.

S'rus carried on, "Is there something you need? Oh, your daughter... no, Bennet wasn't one of the ones injured this day, I think..."

He paused, and waited for A'ur to clear his curiosity up. in the back of his mind, Finranth was scoffing. He was not particularly fond of Gideoth, he felt that Gideoth gave Bronze and Iron dragons bad names, given his acrid personality. Nevermind that Finny could be just as acidic. S'rus ignored him completely, and found he was unwilling to even 'hear' Fin's complaints.

[. s p o r e ♪]

It was very hard for Mairin to focus on constructing and presenting a formal speech today, after so many tragedies to accompany the birth of a new generation of dragons. Rekhath was still sulking over the death of her mother, and the young Weyrwoman had spent the last few hours worrying about the poor candidates who had been injured during the hatching. In addition, there could be no Weyrleader to speak at this feast, although S'rus had very kindly agreed to shoulder this task in T'veren's stead. Mairin herself would speak once he was done, although she would wait a few minutes to gather herself, to make sure that she was well prepared. It would be the first time that Mairin had ever spoken to the Weyr as its sole leader, and the knowledge weighed on her.

Unfortunately, the small amount of food that she had picked at during the feast had nod agreed with Mairin's nerve-wracked stomach. She felt light-headed and sick, and struggled to sit back so that she could concentrate on what she would say to the people in the hall. Finally, the slender woman got to her feet and raised her hands for silence in the hall. Chattering weyrlings and guests quieted in anticipation of her words--words that she wasn't sure how to say, but that needed to be spoken nonetheless.

"Proud members of Solace," she began, "today is a great day, and a sad one. I would like to-"

As a thunderous roar echoed into the vaulting cavern, Mairin jerked where she stood. Shrieks erupted at the tables and in the halls outside, but in the formal hall there was no evidence of danger besides the restless guests milling around. The young Weyrwoman knew she needed to stem any growing panic before it could get out of hand, and drew in a breath to shout over the hubbub. Her head seemed to spin off of her shoulders with the effort, and her vision closed in very suddenly. Mairin collapsed into a boneless heap on the edge of the table and slid onto the floor, bathed in sweat and oblivious to any further developments in the hall.

[lredd011]

Weyrling K'ben of Blue Kukuruth
To Weyrling Sh'kal of Red Laohuth

Kukuruth was aware of Sh'kal and Laohuth's presence before his Rider was. But then, Kukuruth was always one to jump at the chance at conversation, even though "always" was really only a mere few candlemarks to the new Weyrling. Noticing K'ben's mind was far away, the Kukuruth gave him a nudge in Sh'kal's direction. K'ben blinked slowly until eyes and brainwaves connected to form the image of a familiar blond youth in front of him. K'ben had to admit he was surprised that the boy had approached him, what with the way he acted like everyone was going to hit him all the time. Of course, that had been off of one sole encounter with the boy, so K'ben supposed that wasn't entirely fair to make decisions about one's character from only one meeting. Besides, he had Impressed, so surely there must be something there in the boy's character that was worth K'ben giving him another chance.

K'ben couldn't help but be a little amused as his fellow Weyrling attempted to be conversational. He could almost see the boy struggling to come up with something to say. He couldn't really blame him. It was difficult to know what to say after having experienced something like they had. But hey, at least the boy was trying, right? K'ben found it was sort of difficult to come up with anything to say back to the boy.

"Yeah. It's something all right," was the lame reply that Sh'kal got from K'ben. Kukuruth on the other hand, was not lacking at all in words to say to his red sister. How could a brand new Weyrling have such a vocabulary already?

'Hello dear sister,' the blue Weyrling replied perhaps a little too enthusiastically for the current occasion for which they gathered. 'Thank you for asking. Mine is quite downtrodden right now. That is to be expected, I suppose. He has a large heart. He feels for the ones that have been injured, and for the state of the Weyr,' Kukuruth crooned. 'As do we all. But you are right, sister. Such a dreary gathering. I do wish it were more of a celebratory occasion.'

Before Kukuruth could inquire about the state of Laohuth and Hers, Mairin at last stood to address them, and all eyes turned on her, dragon and human alike. A roar cut her speech short, and Kukuruth snapped his head in the direction of the noise, eyes whirling orange and red in alarm. He instantly moved closer to His, and took a protective posture. K'ben's eyes darted around the hall as he sought to get a grasp on what in Faranth's name was going on. When he turned back to Mairin to look for an explanation, she had fallen to the floor. The situation was all to familiar. First Maai. Then Grenth and Enpiceth. Now Mairin, their new Weyrwoman by default. Would this ever end?

---

Weyrling Illissa of Green Whosoath

The thunderous roar woke Illissa from her worried daydreaming to a whole new set of worries. 'Oh. Oh dear,' Whosoath uttered nervously. 'Oh my. This is not good. What is happening, Mine? Is it bad?'

Illissa frowned, as confused and on edge as the person, or dragon, next to her. And then, as voices suddenly became increasingly panicked, Illissa turned to see the empty space where Mairin had been standing only moments before, her eyes falling to the floor where Mairin now lay. Illissa sprung forward, her healer gears already turning. Whosoath trailed behind her, prancing nervously, nostrils flaring and eyes whirling orange and red.

The Journeyman Healer knelt down to the ground and checked Mairin's vitals. Still breathing, but bathed in sweat, there was little else which would offer Illissa any indication of what was wrong with the new Weyrwoman. She did her best to make her comfortable, grabbing a chair cushion for Mairin's head and elevated her feet for better blood circulation. Illissa was skilled and learning quickly, but she needed a Master. There were no marks on Mairin's body that Illissa could tell, but she continued to search her body and keep an eye on her vital signs. This was all too familiar. She hoped Solace Weyr would not be losing yet another leader today.