Hot Headed Consequences

Writers: Len, Miriah
Date Posted: 9th June 2015

Characters: Sh'del, J'ackt
Description: Sh'del shows J'ackt the consequences of having a hot head.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 12, day 19 of Turn 7
Notes: Mentioned: N'vanik, Cyradis

J'ackt

It wasn't something Sh'del wanted to do. He certainty didn't enjoy
punishing a weyrling, despite what some of them might think. But it
had to be done. He didn't know any other way to get through J'ackt's
thick skull other than to show him some hard thruths.

At least it was a sunny day, a fine day to stand out in the sun,
leaning against Loranth's tall shoulder. His lifemate glistened with
the illusion of black to anyone not looking closely at the slender
brown.

Bruised and in a sore mood from the ache from his side and hand,
J'ackt sighted the brown and sighed. Zith followed closely, recently
unwilling to let J'ackt go anywhere with out an his escort. Trudging
forward, he found Sh'del and gave a cursory, barely polite greeting.
"I'm here. You wanted something from me?"

" Want something?" Sh'del snorted at the young jerk. "No, I don't want
a thing from you, but I would like you to meet a couple of people.
Come with me." He set off across the bowl, not turning back to see if
the boy was following.

J'ackt followed quietly, hands shoved into the deep pockets of his
trousers. He wasn't sure what Sh'del had planned nor whom he was
supposed to meet. "Where are we going?"

"To the infirmary. We have to hurry, the head Master only gave me a
half a candle mark." He led the boy through the wide doors and into
the general section. It wasn't where he meant to take the boy, but
rather through the second set of doors and down a long hallway.

J'ackt's brow knit as he followed, glancing around at the large
treatment area and then paused at the second set of doors. He had been
in the infirmary plenty of times but had never been past this point.
"What is this place? Why are we going here?"

Just as he said that a long, piercing wail echoed down the hallway.
Sh'del kept walking forward, even when the screaming continued. "This
is where people go who have lost their mind."

J'ackt stopped immediately, then took a step back, his expression
confused and openly disturbed by the screams. "Why are we here?"

Sh'del ignored his question and opened the door. If the sound that
been unnerving before, it was nothing to what came out now. Wailing,
crying, pleading met their ears. It was like being slapped with sound,
it was so overwhelming. Gesturing to the boy to follow him, Sh'del
walked inside the area until his eyes met those of a young healer.

She stood up and came over to them, smiling kindly. "Weyrlingmaster,
is this the boy I assume you wanted to bring here?" Her eyes were kind
as she looked J'ackt over.

The was blatant disturbed fear mingled with horror on J'ackt's face as
the door opened and the sound emerged. He hung back by the door, not
entering. His body posture betrayed his desire to bolt, muscles taut
and tense and his jaw tight. He took a step back as the Healer
addressed him; his eyes swung to Sh'del and he began shaking his head.

Sh'del snorted at the shake of J'ackt's head. "What, man enough to get
in a fight but not man enough to see what happens when you risk the
life of your dragon?" Not waiting for an answer, he nodded to the
Healer. "Yes, this is the boy. Is Herren up for visitors?"

"As up for it as he'll ever be." With another sympathetic nod to J'ackt, she

led them to the back of the room, to where the screams were coming
from. Looking around Sh'del, she said to J'ackt, "Please be quiet and
respectful. Please no talk about dragons. Everyone in these rooms are
persons who have lost their lifemates."

J'ackt didn't answer and didn't budge. When the Healer explained why
there was screaming, J'ackt paled even more. His voice was hoarse.
"No. I'm not going in there. I can't." Fights were one thing, but the
screams...he shuddered. Those were going to echo in his ears. Now that
he knew what they were, how was he going to get them out of his head?
They were full of raw despair and chilling longing, nothing like he'd
ever heard before. And he knew, in that instant, that he would never
allow this to happen to him. He'd die first.

"No choice, you should have thought before you hurt that guard."
Sh'del gave him a look that said he wasn't taking no for an answer.
"Now respect what these men and women have been through and move your
feet. Now."

Just ahead the Healer waited patiently by a door. Beyond it was the
sound of a man in agony.

Resentment flared in J'ackt's expression as his jaw tightened and his
fists clenched. He took steps towards the door and stared at it,
standing stiffly.

The Healer nodded and opened the door. A bed stood against the far
wall and in it was a man, lost. He gave no indication of their
presence, he didn't even seem to know he was in the infirmary. All he
said, over and over, was, "Obeth, my dear Obeth, I'm so sorry. I'm so
so sorry." The words repeated over and over, only the tone changed as
the man went from almost whispering to screaming at the top of his
lungs.

J'ackt flinched and stiffened, his jaw tight. Why hadn't they put this
poor man out of his misery? He knew that it could be done. He'd heard.
He couldn't even look at the man, but stared past him at the wall.

Sh'del came up to stand behind J'ackt. He nodded to the healer to shut
the door and said, "Herren was at a gather last summer. He got into a
fight not too dissimilar to yours. He was stabbed by the Holder and in
the panic, his brown thought he had died and he went /between/. Like
you, he thought he had a handle on the situation. See what happened to
him." His voice was neutral in tone.

The moment the door shut, J'ackt went still, the small room reminding
him immediately of the cell that the holders had put him in. Being
penned in and feeling like he was surrounded, his knuckles whitened
and he paled, not so much because of the man's story, though it was
disturbing, but because he felt surrounded and overwhelmed. "Then they
should have put him out of his misery." His voice was tight. "Open the
sharding door...." He grit out the next words. "Please."

"The man didn't ask for death. Do you not know what the rules of the
Weyr are, that you would just casually say we should have killed
Herren?" Sh'del raised an eyebrow and did not open the door.

He couldn't take it any longer. The oppression of the room seemed to
weigh down his shoulders and constrict his chest, making it difficult
to breath. The walls were too close together. Moving quickly around
Sh'del, J'ackt grabbed the door, thrust it open and stepped out,
taking deep breaths the moment the air seemed to weigh less. Panting,
he turned back to Sh'del, still in the little cell, and his face was
pale as he stared at the man. "You really hate me, don't you?"

"Quite the opposite." Sh'del came over to stand in front of J'ackt,
forcing the boy to have to look at him. "Quite the opposite. If I
hated you I wouldn't have got you help in reading and writing, so that
you realise your potential. If I hated you, I never would have brought
you here, to show you_exactly_what happens when you put your own pride
before the life of your dragon. I would have given up long ago if I
hated you, J'ackt."

J'ackt's eyes narrowed. "You don't listen to me. As far as you're
concerned everything I do is wrong. I asked you to 'please' let me out
of that shaffing cell and you acted like I didn't say a fecking thing.
I couldn't fecking breath in there." His words tumbled out, more than
the few short words that he normally spoke. "I got the point the
moment I stepped in there. You ignored what I was telling you." His
face darkened. "You haven't liked me from the first moment you met me
and ever since all you've tried to do is make things harder instead of
actually listening to what I have to say!"

"Interresting. In all that you just said, it was all 'I'. 'I couldn't
breath,' 'I got the point.' 'I was trying to tell you.' Have you once
put anyone but yourself first? Did you even think about that man in
there? Or were you more concerned with yourself?"

J'ackt opened his mouth to reply, blinked and shut it again with a
frown as he looked away with a dark frown. His jaw clenched tightly
and the muscles ticked wildly as he took a several sharp breaths.

Sh'del patiently crossed his arms and waited for J'ackt's answer.

J'ackt jaw worked some more before he answered, still not looking at
Sh'del. "No, I didn't think of him. I don't know him and so I don't
really care to. He's not really there anyway. It's a shell of a man."
He finally turned to look at Sh'del. "And I would die before I let
myself be like that. If anything ever happens to Zith, " he shuddered
inwardly at the thought, "I'll off myself as quick as the next breath.
No one should live like that and I wouldn't. It's fecking cruel."

"And this is what worries me about you, J'ackt. You don't think, you
just say the most foolhardy thing you can think of that pops into your
mind. What you just said, have you thought it over what might--what
could--happen if you were to risk Zith's life and get both him and
yourself killed? Or does the whole 'I'd kill myself first' speech just
sound terribly romantic? Because, I'll tell you now, that thought is
terribly Holder-minded." Sh'del motioned J'ackt to follow him as he
talked, to get the lad to a quieter place that was more open. "N'vanik
did not put you out there on those Sands because he wants some silly
Holder boy out there, he put you out there because we--the Weyr--needs
all the bronze riders we can get. And the very last thing we need is
to get them and they do the very same stupid thing that you did with
that Holder!"

For a moment, he wanted to throttle the Weyrlingmaster. Suddenly, he
just didn't want to speak any more. He just wanted to get away from
the man before he lashed out completely and got in even further
trouble. It seemed like everything Sh'del was saying was geared
towards making him angrier and he seemed determined to think the worst
of him. Breathing through his nose, he fell back on what had saved him
with his father. He simply shut up. Clamping his lips and jaw closed,
he stared forward as he walked behind Sh'del.

Sh'del stopped when they got back to the dragons. "Well?"

J'ackt went immediately to Zith laying his hand on the large head as
his dragon lowered it for a measure of comfort for his rider. He
scratched along the ridges, his hand finding the areas that Zith liked
to be touched the most. The touch and attention eased him slightly,
the big bronze concentrating on sending soothing emotions towards his
rider's turbulent, angry thoughts. He didn't answer Sh'del
immediately, concentrating on trying to calm himself before he let his
temper get the better of him. It was difficult not to let it lash out,
but with Zith sending waves of comfort and love over him, it was
easier than it had been. FInally, his hand still on his bronze and his
back still to Sh'del, he replied in a calm, emotionless voice. "I have
nothing to say."

"Well you say I'm not listening to you, and now you have your chance
and all I get is that you have nothing to say?" Sh'del smiled at the
gentle manner of Zith. "He is growing into a fine dragon. Very lithe
for a bronze." Loranth crooned at the young rider and leaned down to
look closely at J'ackt.

J'ackt stared at Zith, his hands clenching and unclenching slowly as
his jaw worked from side to side. The compliments to Zith softened him
just a little, but he couldn't look at Sh'del at that moment. "Why
should I? " His voice was bitter. "So you can take it in the worst way
possible? So you can force me into doing something else that I hate?
No matter what I say or what I do, it's not going to be good enough."
He slowly turned, staring at Sh'del, his face curiously blank. "I have
done all the classes, all the training, all the reading that's been
asked of me. I even did that stint in the infirmary like you told me
to even though I've already seen enough blood and guts to last me a
life time. All because of that boy who refused to be a man on his own.
You have done your best to make it harder on me and you expect me to
like you or trust you for it? To thank you like you're doing me some
service? You don't really care about Zith or me, to you, I'm some
holdless boy who dared to Impress a bronze so you're going to try to
beat me into submission. You don't care how I feel as long as I do
what you want me to." His voice softened, a hint of pain crackling
through his voice. "My Da did that, you know. He did his best to beat
me into what he wanted me to be. He used his fists, but you..." J'ackt
shook his head slowly. "You use my dragon. I don't know what's worse."

"J'ackt, did I force you to Stand on those Sands?"

"No." The answer was short and to the point.

"Did I force you to Impress bronze?"

J'ackt frowned. "No, no one can do that."

"You're exactly right. No one can force you to Impress bronze, it
happens or it doesn't." Sh'del glanced at Zith and a smile tugged on
the corner of his mouth as he admired the bronze for a moment. "Now,
months into your training, can you now read better than you could when
you first came to the Weyr?"

"Yes."

"And do the lessons make more sense with your reading and writing
ability better?"

"Yes."

"And can you think of a reason why I paired you up with S'gan? Well,
two reasons, really."

That brought a scowl. "To torture me."

Sh'del's lips twitched as he suppressed a grin. "No, but good try.
Want to take another crack at it?"

"No."

"Would you be surprised to know that S'gan too was Holdless?"

That made J'ackt pause and his expression flickered from a scowl to a
moment of recalling a memory, but his brows remained lowered as he
considered it, then looked back at Sh'del. "And did you know that the
last other Holdless person I met tried to kill me and I ended up
burying him?" The memory was not a painless one, and it wasn't
something he liked to discuss. "Put my sword right into his throat. It
was him or me and I was on my own." He faced Sh'del fully. "Holdless
don't band together, we don't protect each other. That's how I lived.
That's what I was taught. I had to kill a man over food." His face
betrayed his disgust over the incident. " I didn't have a choice. Had
S'gan and I met outside of the Weyr, I would have run him off in any
way possible."

J'ackt turned back to his bronze, taking slow breaths to push the
memory aside. Zith crooned softly, pressing his head against J'ackt's
side in comfort. "I had to steal, sneak, and kill to survive on my
own. I didn't fecking like it, but I _had_ to so I could survive." He
turned back to Sh'del. "S'gan getting bullied? That's a weakness.
Weakness gets you killed."

Sh'del's expression showed his empathy for the lad's situation. Rather
than ask him more about painful events, instead he said, "S'gan was
holdless--and was bullied here--for being gay, for being something
that holders don't want. The other reason I put you with him was to
try to let you break from that cycle of abuse you've faced your entire
life, and to find the way the Weyr works, not the way the Hold works.
And because even back then I suspected you would Impress bronze and I
wanted you to begin to assume the responsibility that being a bronze
rider entails. One of which is protecting your greenriders and making
sure they are treated with respect.

"Now the reason I asked you these questions is because you stated that
I force you to do things you hate. But what I have been doing is
trying to get you to assume the role of being a bronze rider. And yes,
that means you have to study, you have to do your lessons, and yes,
you have to hold your temper at times. That stint with the
dragonhealers wasn't to be punishment, it was to show you what you
were here for, to be a dragonrider. And you state that I don't care
for you or Zith, but if I didn't, I never would have shown you--and
through you, Zith--the real horror that a rash temper and arrogance
can get you, and get the entire Weyr. And you say that S'gan is a boy
who refused to be a man? Do you realise that it took him two full
turns, but he walked the entire way to the Weyr. No one found him and
saved him, he did it all himself.

"You are at an important crossroads in your life, J'ackt. You can
prove your father and all the abusive Holders you've encountered in
your life wrong and go forward and be the bronze rider that this Weyr
desperately needs. Or you can continue with the cycle of abuse you
have endured during your life and continue in the way that you have. I
know which life I--and N'vanik and Cyradis want--but which life do you
want?"

Sh'del was countered by an expression of cool disbelief. If that boy
said he walked two Turns in the wild, then he had to be able to find
his own food, hunt it, steal, find places to hide from Thread and from
other Holdless, avoid predators and know which why the Weyr was. If he
could do all that but couldn't stand up to bullies, then he either was
stupidly lucky, or he had lost his balls somewhere along the way. If
the boy couldn't stand up for himself and find his balls where ever he
had lost them, it wasn't worth J'ackt's time. But _that_ wasn't what
was important, he could care less about what the boy accomplished or
what he had done.

His voice was just as soft, but he kept his temper, the talk of cycles
and abuse and enduring getting to be too much for him. Stubbornness
and refusal to appear weak, or to bend, unwisely reared its head.
"You can have what ever life you want, Weyrlingmaster, but this is
mine. I'll work in the wings, I'll do my job there like I'm supposed
to. Zith will flame Thread and catch greens or blues or browns in a
Fall like he ought. But I will _never_ be this fantasy bronzerider
that you are trying to mold me into being. I don't take people under
my wing, or Zith's. I'm not going to do any noble sacrificing for the
greater good. I'm not that guy that you hear about in the songs and I
don't want to be. So graduate me, keep me in the Weyrling wings, I
don't really care." Not exactly true, but J'ackt wasn't going to let
Sh'del know how much being held back bothered him. "Are we finished? I
have digging to do."

"I'm not trying to mold you into a 'fantasy' bronzerider, I'm trying to mold you into just your average bronzerider. We're almost finished but J'ackt? Can you at least try to take off the blinkers your father placed on you and actually see your life for what it is? And see what being a bronze rider is about? Otherwise, your father wins, you know that, right? You keep this attitude, you keep being a thorn in the Weyr's side, the man's dead but he's still beating you."

J'ackt clamped his lips shut, wanting to shake off everything Sh'del was saying, but unable to. Some of it filtered in through his anger and stubbornness; he knew that some of it made sense, but his emotions were simply too heightened to absorb it. Instead, he leaned on Zith, facing away from Sh'del as he soaked up the comfort of the big bronze.

Zith peered at Sh'del, his eyes slowly whirling, surprisingly calm despite the uproar his lifemate was feeling. The lithe dragon spoke to Loranth as he kept his gaze on Sh'del. }: Tell Yours to give Mine time. He is overwhelmed right now and his emotions are jumbled up too much for him to be reasonable. He will think about your rider's words later when his mind has quieted. :{

}:He understands. So do I:{ Loranth lightly touched Zith on the nose. }:Please know we are both here for you and your lifemate.:{ And with that Sh'del nodded and walked away.

Last updated on the June 17th 2015

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Hot Headed Consequences