Cautiously Hopeful

Writers: Halyonix, Iluva
Date Posted: 12th June 2025

Characters: I'serin, T'mhas
Description: T'mhas offers I'serin support and I'serin offers T'mhas something else
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 6, day 19 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: M'thos, K'mai

I'serin

T'mhas

The strain of the past two days could still be read in every bowed shoulder, in every furrowed brow, every sigh dulled with despair.

They hadn't seen a Threadfall this disastrous in Turns. It had nearly broken two full Wings, and with Ghraisath's ill-timed chase at Barrier Lake the same day, T’mhas was far from immune to the stress. He was still reeling a little. His chest was tight. Visiting the infirmary had only made it worse. So many hurt; T'veen was gone. Talfeth, grounded for two months. And H'niel - Faranth, he looked like death.

As the midday meal wrapped up, Ghraisath’s attention suddenly snapped up, tingling with excitement. }:Oh, Khailoth is Rising.:{

T’mhas stopped short, jaw clenching. His thoughts were coupled with a sharp audible growl, **You chase now, I’ll _kill you_.**

At least Ghraisath, the unrepentant randy bastard that he was, was fine - better than fine. He had his dragon. He had his home. His mate and his children. Seeing the Weyr riddled with despair only brought those precious things out clearer, bolder, and as vivid in his thoughts as the carnage itself.

Even those, like him, who hadn't been ‘scored, or maimed, or collided mid-air were staggering under the weight of it. He could only imagine how I’serin was holding up. Poorly, was his wild sharding guess. The young Weyrleader had looked every kind of awful the past few days.

**Ask Aluneth where his rider is. Tell him I’m comin’.**

A few minutes later, T’mhas’ boot kicked at the Weyrleader’s office door. It swung open, just enough to reveal the man instead. “Klah break.” He announced, not asked, balancing the carafe of klah and mugs in his big hands. I'serin was leaning over his desk as if ready to fight until he recognized T'mhas.

"You are...unexpected," the Weyrleader of Dragonsfall Weyr said, "though not unwelcomed." He readjusted his posture and sat down, resting his bandaged hand on the desk. "What can I do for you?"

"S'bout to ask you the same thing." T'mhas reached the desk in two easy strides. Having ruined enough of M'thos' sheet music over the turns, he put the klah and mugs where the other man could reach but well away from the paperwork sharing the space. Then stretching into a seat across from the Weyrleader, he opted for "How's the hand?" rather than 'how are you' - he knew that tense posture rather intimately himself.

I'serin was beginning to wonder why he had adhered to Turns of isolation and formality more and more. In the wake of his mistake, riders were coming forward, offering equal parts critique and support in more instances than I'serin expected. He certainly did not think he deserved it. Cautiously hopeful, he answered, "Healing. I do not recommend punching a wineglass though." He reached forward and took one of the mugs. "I thank you for bringing something to drink. It is...kind of you." He sipped it quietly.

T'mhas chuckled darkly, not without sympathy. "That's good. Done that myself a few times." Though it had been some Turns since it had been on purpose. Some might've called that growth. "The infirmary's pretty packed, so I wasn't sure who from the Wing would be lookin' in on you." His mouth tugged into a grin after taking a gulp, "Didn't seem right, you sittin' here alone without klah and company, not after the past couple days. And it keeps me from tannin' Ghraisath's hide a litte longer, too."

The Weyrleader paused, processing all of the words and the meanings behind them, before saying, "I have had plenty of company over the last few days but it is visits like this that I would much rather. I...will not run from my error but believe me when I say that there are no words that anyone can hurl at me, at any volume, that I have not already used on myself." He swallowed a sip and set the mug, pivoting to a less self-deprecating topic. "And what has Ghraisath done to possibly deserve such treatment?"

Of course, it was still raw and I'serin had worked to become a good leader, though he rarely seemed to recognize that. It had been clear early on that the younger bronzerider judged himself by his mistakes, which would be admirable-- if it didn’t make him self-effacing to the point of complete erasure. Still, he didn't need platitudes, and T'mhas hadn't exactly shown up to give them. He nodded his understanding, and then snorted rather harshly, his own raw error rushing back.

"Chased Barrier Lake's new Queen - the same day as 'fall." He grumbled, shaking his head. "I... I overlooked the timing of things. Not really in the mood for him to go after any greens again just yet." They had one at home and that was the only one he ever really wanted. "Hate to say it, but I'd rather do hidework than that right now."

The left corner of I'serin's mouth quirked in a wry smile. "I seem to find no end to the hidework, though it suits me far better than other aspects of leadership. I, for one, am glad that Ghraisath did not catch Imbeth. I would have not enjoyed losing you to Barrier Lake."

"That makes two of us." T'mhas smiled as well, his wide and toothy, "Don't think Dragonsfall's loss woulda been their gain, either. Barrier Lake's got enough problems without addin' me into the mess, and I kinda like the faces here too much."

His next gulp from his mug left warmth and relief seeping through his chest, a long arm draping behind his chair. "So, since we got our own mess here, whaddya need? Got klah covered. Hit me with somethin' else."

That made the Weyrleader pause. Confusion and wariness flit across his face. "Excuse me?" he inquired, baffled.

Watching that tense wave of emotions, T'mhas paused and had to make sure he hadn't said something he didn't mean, or that could be taken with another meaning. He wondered, briefly, if I'serin had heard something else, implied incompetency maybe, so he clarified, "Well, our Wing's kinda lopsided at the moment. There's a couple of the old guys in the infirmary for the next... I dunno, however long. I ain't a healer. But if ya need food, or someone to get the files still in H'niel's office, or wanna come to our weyr for dinner again some night, just get your mind off things, Merry and I'd love to have you. Y'know Tamerel's _still_ jabberin' to his friends about it." He smiled affectionately, then continued more seriously, "I didn't mean anythin' by it. I'm just sayin', with everything that's going on, if there's anything I can do, I'm here to do it. Sir. And if not, well, that's fine, too. "

I'serin's gaze did not move from T'mhas for a long moment, gauging the words against the connotations, denotations, contexts, and outcomes. "I..." he started to say, pausing to gather his thoughts more. Unconsciously, his eyes shifted to the injury list, to the section of those permanently grounded. One of which was the aforementioned Wingthird H'niel. He had not given much consideration yet to replacing the rank -- there had been more pressing matters to see first -- but now that T'mhas brought it up...

I'serin's expression turned pensive. "We are down a Wingthird," he brought up slowly, testing the waters. "Is this the sort of help you would be interested in or are you looking to assist in a less formal way?" Dinner with the bronzerider and his mate _did_ sound like a good time. Some night way in the future after I'serin was done fixing his mistake.

Technically T'mhas _had_ just asked the Weyrleader to hit him, and the offer landed with all the force of a blow. Now it was his turn for emotion to skate over his face, quick, subtle, though there was nothing to suggest reluctance, or regret, or revulsion. Ghraisath's attention fizzled up into the picture, the two of them absorbing the exact weight of it, together.

"Any way." He admitted with the same easy sincerity. He'd come to check on the young leader and make sure he was holding up, to lighten the load. This was how.

Straightening up a fraction, Tam leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. "I mean, yeah. Of course. I've got fuckin' wherryscratch for handwriting, mind you, but if that's what you, the Wing-- the _Weyr_ needs, then... yeah, call me Wingthird." His visit to the infirmary earlier, the holes carved in their Wing sprang to mind. It really was a mess, and after a pause T'mhas added more seriously, "I know it ain't just paperwork and formations. The infirmary's a state, and there's gonna be a new batch of Weyrlings coming up in a couple months." One of them his own son. "They're gonna need a little handholding... Like I said, the reports ain't gonna be pretty, but I know what I gotta do. What I'm here to do."

"Ghraisath chose you for a reason," I'serin intoned. The very same words he told himself sometimes when he doubted his abilities. "I can handle the reports. I cannot be everywhere at once, especially with the Wing, and I would like not to burden E'kavas and M'kayre any more than I already do. If you feel that you are ready to step up..."

The Weyrleader of Dragonsfall Weyr tapped the the Wing roster with that blank space. "Then I believe I have a position for you."

T'mhas' gaze hovered on that space no more than the span of a breath before it flicked back to I'serin, a smile as bright as the dragon he rode. "This is my home. That is the _least_ of what I can do." He assured him. "Lay it on me."

The young Weyrleader's shoulders relaxed a bit with unburdened relief. "Welcome to the team," he said.

Last updated on the June 17th 2025

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Cautiously Hopeful