Pour Your Misery Down On Me

Writers: Halyonix, Heather
Date Posted: 5th March 2025
Series: The Perfect Storm

Characters: I'serin, M'yvak, Rathandra, Evanram
Description: I’serin and M’yvak answer the distress call and what they find is not what they had imagined.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 5, day 5 of Turn 12
Notes: This is the second control post in the Weyrwide plot for DFW. Check the forums for more info!

I'serin

M'yvak

Rathandra

Rain. More than she ever remembered in her life. Coupled with the
natural run off from the mountains, the amount of water flooding into
the caves had happened too quickly to evacuate properly. Even now, her
husband and father were swimming back and forth through the flooded
caverns, trying to bring out whoever they could reach before their air ran out.

"We need to signal for help," she tried again as Evanram sloshed out
of the murky depths holding a child in his arms.

"No! Calling down the dragonriders would only indenture us to them.
That's the whole reason we're out here, remember? We thrive and
survive alone." The words were forced out between chattering teeth as
someone took the child from his arms. Her husband's lips were blue as
he turned to go back into the caves.

"Evanram -"

"Rath," he swung back to look at her for a moment, his brown eyes
hard. "Don't." Then he turned and walked back into the cave,
presumably to swim for another trapped holdless.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Rathandra stared at the mouth of the cave
for a second longer before turning and stomping through the muck.
The soggy ground sucked at her boots as she scrambled up the incline.
Snatching a knobby, broken tree branch, she tore the hem of her red
skirt, caked in dirt by this point, and tied it around the stick's end.

The makeshift flag in her hand felt like a living, writhing piece of
rebellion. She imagined that's what it was like holding a piece of
Thread. She didn't know if Evanram would ever forgive her for the
betrayal, but she couldn't stomach the thought of the many people
trapped inside the flooding caves.

With a grunt, Rathandra stabbed the flag into the ground at the
highest point of the ridge she could reach by foot. She remembered
from her childhood harper lessons, before they'd left Amber Hills
Hold, that dragonriders responded to flags. Looking up at the
relentless grey sky with its torrents of rain, she hoped those stories
held true.

--

M'yvak felt chilled to the bone as he and Pesrath took to the skies
again. The blue dutifully relayed the coordinates where they'd seen
the flag to I'serin and Aluneth.

}:Think warm thoughts,:{ Pesrath said to M'yvak as they popped
/between/ with a clap of thunder and then reappeared above a low
mountain ridge. Aluneth was close on the blue's tail as they landed
near where M'yvak had spotted the flag.

}: There is an opening, there, :{ Aluneth relayed to his rider as he
swung his head in that direction. I'serin spotted it and another
opening a few lengths away. How many entrances were there? How
deep did the caves go? How many people lived in them? Another
dozen questions began sprouting up on the Weyrleader's mind.

"You saw no one?" I'serin asked brusquely as he and M'yvak dismounted.

"Not at the time, I -" M'yvak stopped and squinted against the rain as
he noticed a woman over I'serin's shoulder. "Sir," he pointed.

Rathandra couldn't believe it. She had never seen dragons up close.
The sheer size of them. Her knees trembled at the thought of
approaching them, but that's where their riders stood.

"You came," was all she said to the two men, dressed like the drawings
she'd seen in old harper books.

Foregoing his normal eloquence for the sake of time, I'serin
approached and asked, "Was it you that raised the flag for
assistance?"

The woman nodded, rivulets of water coursing down her face. "The
caves have flooded. People are trapped. Our men are swimming
them out but...It's not fast enough. And when they do get them out,
we have nowhere to go. All of our belongings and supplies are in
those caverns."

More questions sprouted within his mind. In rapid fire sequence,

because time was of the essence, he asked, "How many are trapped?
How large are the caves?" Could they use their dragons to help?
Where would they put the people rescued? How much of the cavern
was being filled? "M'yvak," I'serin said sharply. "Investigate the other
entrance. Assess how large it is." Mentally, he told Aluneth to begin
relaying information to Chioneth as the woman reported it back.

M'yvak nodded at the Weyrleader's instructions and ran back to Pesrath
so they could fly quickly to the other entrance.

"There's maybe forty people in there? There are several chambers to
the caves. I'm not sure how many." Rathandra wrapped her arms
around herself, teeth chattering against the cold. "Look," she hesitated,
afraid.... "They're not going to be happy to see you. Well, most of
them won't be. They didn't want to send for help but I... I couldn't
watch anyone else drown."

The fact that someone, even someone Holdless, had already drowned
set I'serin's stomach ill. As his mind raced towards what they should
next, he assured her with, "You did the right thing." He noticed her
shivering and decision paralysis hit him for a moment. Should he
return to the Weyr to rally the Wingleaders? Should he follow her in,
find out more, possibly imperil himself and M'yvak?

Sensing his rider's distress against the magnitude of the situation,
Aluneth said, }: Go with her. I will coordinate more riders with
Chioneth. :{ Aluneth's mind swung towards his golden mate, relaying
how many needed rescue, the cold, shivering state of the woman that
had called them, etc., trusting that his mate's rider would begin
organizing the Weyr.

I'serin shrugged out of his riding jacket and draped it around the
woman. "Show me the others," he said. He would help as he could and
hope that he had not just made the wrong decision.

Rathandra turned and led the dragonrider down the embankment. As
they turned toward the mouth of the network of caves, groups of
people were huddled outside in the rain. It was difficult to distinguish
those who had been fished out of the watery caves from those who
had been standing outside in the downpour for hours. Children
huddled under the arms of their mothers. Everyone seemed to be
watching with bated breath as a man appeared from the cave,
carrying a heavily pregnant woman in his arms.

She could feel as people began to notice the dragonrider with her.

Their eyes became more round and they parted for her and the man to
pass.

Once Evanram handed the pregnant woman over to a group of old
aunts, he straightened to see his wife, with an unfamiliar man to her
left. His eyes narrowed on the telltale dress of a dragonrider.

"Rathandra, what have you done?"

Her chin lifted. "I put out a flag for help."

A surprised murmur rippled through the crowd of holdless people.

"He can help," she insisted.

As those eyes turned toward him, I’serin stepped forward and said,
“My name is I’serin. I am the Weyrleader of Dragonsfall Weyr. I…” He
paused, taking in the various expressions -- distrust, anger, weariness,
fear, determination…and hope? -- “I am here to help. As I and my riders
are able.Who…” I’serin uncharacteristically fumbled. In traditional
settings, he would have asked for the Weyrleader or Hallmaster or Lord
Holder. But with the Holdless? Did they have a leader? “Is there someone
here who can speak with me on how we can best assist?”

No one spoke. There was a long awkward silence where the only thing
audible was the torrential rain.

Rathandra glared at her husband and then jerked her eyebrows.

Evanram looked away from her, his mouth working from side to side. A
tic had developed in his clenched jaw. “Me,” he said. “You can coordinate with me.”

Before the dragonrider could step forward, another voice joined Evanram
in saying, “And me.” He looked over at Evanram with a determination. “No
telling what these dragonrider types will do to us, Ev. You know that.
You ain’t talking to him alone.”

“On Aluneth’s shell, I swe-” I’serin started to say.

The other man spit. “Don’t care about your dragon’s shell. We care
about getting our own out.”

“You’ll have to swear on something better than a shell,” Evanram said.

Rathandra’s hands were clenched so tightly her nails were piercing
into the flesh of her palms. They didn’t have time for this nonsense
when the water was still rising.

I’serin did not know what he could offer them that would be adequate
testimony to his honor. Marks would certainly not suffice. They would
not care about his Weyrleader knots either. “Myself,” he eventually
grasped. “I swear on my own self. That is all I can do.”

The man next to Evanram looked dubious. “Ain’t much to swear on,” he
muttered to his friend, looking the young Weyrleader over.

“Fine,” Evanram grunted, squatting down into the mud. “This is what
the inner chambers look like -” he began using his finger to make a crude
map of the cave system they’d been living in for the past Turn. “We’ve
got water here, here, and here,” he drew lines across the caves that were
partially filled. “Some of the people inside can’t swim, never been near
a major body of water.” He looked back at I’serin. “Now, what can you do to help?”

Last updated on the March 5th 2025

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Pour Your Misery Down On Me