There's a Grief That Can't Be Spoken

Writers: Sia
Date Posted: 20th May 2025

Characters: K'leriac, T'veen
Description: Teal Wing deals with the repercussions of I'serin's bad call
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 6, day 17 of Turn 12
Notes: Follows "DFW: To Fail, To Fall"

The infirmary lights burned low as dusk deepened outside. Shadows stretched long across the stone floor, and the room had gone quiet. The Healers moved in tired silence now, and the worst of the groans had faded into an uneasy sleep or breathless stillness.

K'leriac sat heavily beside the cot, his crutch leaning against the wall. It had been a month since the amputation. Just enough time to start walking again. Just long enough to be left behind. He’d missed the Fall.

Teal Wing was gutted.

And T’veen… T’veen was dying.

But conscious.

Barely.

T’veen shifted with a low hiss, his breath catching in his throat. His chest was bound tight with gauze, the bandages dark with old blood. The color in his face was wrong; ashen, lips cracked and dry. His eyes were open, but fogged from the fellis that dulled the pain.

It was hard to see him like this, when just days ago he'd been bright and laughing. He'd sat with K'leriac in the days after his own Infirmary stint, helped move him to a ground-level weyr, helped wrangle two kids that weren't sure how to act around their newly maimed father. T'veen had always been like that-- quick to offer help, quicker to crack a joke. They'd become fast friends when they started flying together, turns ago, and had an easy camaraderie that had sometimes kept K'leriac up at night.

“You look like the back end of a trundlebug,” K'leriac muttered, voice hoarse.

T’veen gave a faint, crooked smile. “And you still look lopsided."

That almost earned a laugh. Almost. Instead, K'leriac exhaled through his nose and looked away, jaw tight.

"Still can’t believe it,” T’veen rasped. His chest gurgled with a rattling sound, thick and wet. The threadscore had gone too deep, the internal burns were drowning him. Fellis dulled the pain, but nothing could stop the rest. "I didn't think. The command came in and we just _moved_. Thank Faranth we dipped /between/ before we crashed into Everenith. Are they okay?"

K'leriac didn't request an update from Obrianth. It didn't matter. Everenith could have been dead and K'leriac would have just nodded.

Silence settled again. T’veen’s breathing was a soft, wheezing rattle.

“He forgot, didn't he,” T’veen said eventually, eyes drifting to the ceiling. “I’serin. That maneuver couldn't have worked this time. We weren't expecting it.”

“No, it couldn't,” K’leriac muttered. "I don't know what he was thinking."

T’veen coughed, wincing. “We were too slow. Saw T’min’s brown take a full sheet-- just vanished.”

K'leriac closed his eyes. “I wasn’t there.”

“You would’ve followed the same order,” T’veen said. “We all would’ve. We all _did_.” He didn’t say the rest. That they had trusted I’serin. That even in the middle of doubt, Teal Wing had turned in unison on command.

It had cost them.

"Ikerath says Obrianth is with her?" T'veen asked. His voice was quiet, measured. Ikerath had been scored badly too, from a harsh near miss in the air as she fought to avoid a Cyan Wing pair in the chaos.

K'leriac nodded. The bronze had settled near Ikerath in the Infirmary, close enough to offer comfort, careful not to get in the dragonhealers' way. The green was bad, but she might have made it back into the Wings if not for T'veen.

}: She's not in pain. :{ Obrianth offered gently. }: She's worried for him. :{

T’veen’s eyes fluttered closed for a terribly long moment, then opened again. “She should have gone without me." He said blearily, "She won't. I should've made the call. I thought that we'd be all right if we just made it to the ground. I don't want to go without her."

"You did everything right." K'leriac said quickly. His voice cracked. "You did everything right. Ikerath is with you. She always will be."

T’veen coughed, then grimaced. Blood spotted the cloth he pressed to his mouth. "And you'll stay?" He asked.

“I will,” K’leriac said.

Without thinking, he reached for where T'veen's hand lay atop the blanket, bruised and bandaged. He covered it gently with both of us. T'veen had never looked so fragile before.

"We had so many chances," T'veen said quietly. "So many Flights."

"Only when Ikerath let Obrianth win."

T'veen's laugh turned into a coughing fit. "I told myself I was stupid for hoping you'd say something. That you're a bronze, that I shouldn't pine."

K’leriac looked away. Shame burned hot behind his ribs, pounded behind his eyes. He'd folded those parts of himself away so long that he'd almost forgotten that they had shape. He'd tried to convince himself that it was Obrianth's influence, that he was being foolish. Had convinced himself that all he could offer was their easy friendship. Bronzeriders didn't- couldn't- feel that way. He hadn't known anything.

"I should have." He managed, finally. Finally.

T'veen didn't respond right away. He looked like he was drifting, breath shallow, but when his eyes opened again, the glassiness had cleared just a little, like he was struggling his way to clarity.

"You're saying it now." He said.

K'leriac let out a trembling breath, half a laugh and half a sob. "Now is too late."

"No," T'veen whispered. "Now is enough."

The bronze rider leaned forward, careful, reverent. He lifted T’veen’s hand slightly, bowed his head, and pressed his lips gently to the back of it. He stayed there, unmoving, his forehead resting against T’veen’s hand like a vow made too late, as if the simple contact could anchor something broken.

T’veen closed his eyes.His voice, when it came again, was barely audible. “I’m glad it was you here.”

“I wish it hadn’t been like this.”

T'veen didn't answer. K'leriac didn't expect him to. Didn't want him to.

He stayed there, holding his hand, unmoving.

And when T’veen’s breathing stilled, and the echo of Obrianth's keening sharp in his skull, K'leriac finally wept.

Last updated on the May 27th 2025

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There's a Grief That Can't Be Spoken