Punishment.

Writers: Leigh M-F., Suzee
Date Posted: 2nd January 2018

Characters: D'ale, A'kua
Description: D'ale lays down the law and A'kua hates every second of it.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 2, day 11 of Turn 9
Notes: Mentioned: Ilyssia, Ninaine, Eionen (deceased), Talwynn

D'ale

Drills had not gone well. A'kua knew it, even though he didn't want to
admit it. But he had to face facts, which was largely due to Ilyssia.
She had flat out told him he'd said he'd be ready to fly and he
obviously wasn't; his poor performance in the Cyan Wing drills had
proven that. And if he didn't want him and Zeiranth to wind up as
badly hurt as Ninaine and Luneth, then he would man up and take
whatever verdict D'ale gave him.

A'kua had never agreed to anything so grudgingly in his life. Yet here
he was, knocking on D'ale's door and bracing himself to get chewed
out.

D'ale sat behind his desk with a hide in front of him tapping his
stylus. He'd had these kinds of conversations before and imagined this
wouldn't be the last time. "Come in," he called when he heard the
knock.

A'kua came in, shut the door, and approached the desk, standing at
parade rest before it. He didn't bother sitting down or saying why he
was there; it would only waste time, and he wanted to get this over
with. He did, however, salute as protocol demanded, since he didn't
want to get more strips torn off his hide.

"So I have a couple of questions for you," D'ale started. "What
happened out there today?"

"I couldn't focus," A'kua said quietly. "Not completely. Zeiranth had
to do all the payin' attention when we should've been workin' as a
team. My timin' was off and my spatial placement became a problem when
we did between drills."

"And why was that do you think?"

The bronzerider had to think how to phrase that without swearing. "I'm
still angrier than a wounded wher," he finally said. "I- I'm still
sad. I overestimated my ability to cope." That was a habit, he
realized. He could plot and plan and brace himself however he wanted,
but once a major event actually happened, he was usually cut off at
the knees and unable to improvise fast enough to adapt. "I guess I
just hoped I could."

"Alright," D'ale took a deep breath. "When an injury is physical it's
far easier to tell when it's healed then when it is emotional. Just
how can we be sure it's not going to happen again?"

A'kua shrugged helplessly. "I wish I knew, Sir."

"Then one more question. How old are you?" D'ale's eyes bored into A'kua's

The redhead was confused. He'd told his Wingsecond that just a few
days ago. But he had to answer, so he said "Nineteen."

"Do you want to live to be twenty?" D'ale roared at him.

The abrupt bellow startled A'kua so badly, he leaped backward and
brought up his arms defensively. It took a moment to register that
D'ale hadn't actually made any threatening motions. He let out a very
shaky breath and forced himself to lower his arms. "Y-Yes, Sir," he
croaked after taking a few more minutes to collect his wits. (But
would he, he suddenly wondered. Eionen had just dropped dead for no
reason; would that happen to him too?)

D'ale lowered the volume of his voice but the intensity remained. "You
have to get your head in the game son," he said. "You do that or
someone isn't going to see their next birthday and that someone could
be you. So I suggest you find a way to focus when you're up there or
I'm going to nail you to the ground. Feel me?"

A red haze flooded A'kua's vision. He wasn't D'ale's Ancients-damned
_son_; he wasn't _anyone's_ son now, and he _still_ didn't need
parenting. It was only through sheer luck and Zeiranth's sudden mental
support that he managed to keep from shouting any of that at his
Wingsecond, though. But when he spoke again, it was through clenched
teeth. "Maybe you _should_, Sir."

"Very well," D'ale said. "You're grounded. You will not fly for any
reason whatsoever for one week. But you will climb to the top of the
Weyr to stand watch at the Star Stones every night, all night. You
will have no visitors, no food, no instrument, no book or other
distraction while on watch. You will stand up there and think about
how you can focus during drills so you don't kill someone."

A'kua's teeth creaked and his jaw ached. He was _not_ good at having
that much free time; boredom lead to agitation at best. He was
probably going to go half insane even if he was supposed to be paying
attention to his surroundings. But the red haze faded slightly as
anger started turning into worry. He may have been good at
rock-climbing, but he had never, ever attempted to climb the entire
length of the Weyr. That was just beyond his limits. And it wasn't as
if there were stairs, were there? He certainly didn't know; he'd never
had a punishment detail like this, and the last time he'd been up on
the Rim at night, it had been for weyrling star-chart homework with
Tal, when it was dark, Zeiranth had flown him, and he hadn't been
looking at the rocks.

**Well played, Wingsecond. I did ask for it,** he thought bitterly,
and looked away from the older man, silently accepting the verdict.
**Damn you, Eionen. I wish I could kill you for dyin'.**

"Come," D'ale said after a moment of watching the younger man stew.
"I'll show you where the stairs begin. Unless you already know the
way?"

A'kua just shook his head and gestured for the Wingsecond to lead the
way, not trusting himself to speak. He would try to hold his tongue
until he had a chance to get loudly and profoundly profane in private,
unless D'ale wanted a direct answer to something.

D'ale grinned after his back was turned to the young man and he led
the way to the stairs.

Last updated on the January 16th 2018

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Punishment.