What It Takes (2/2)

Writers: Iluva, Sia
Date Posted: 10th October 2025

Characters: A'garyn, L'kav, M'thos, T'sarun
Description: Aegaryn finds out what the dragons think
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 7, day 26 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: Naldhavi, Akadja, Hesbia, Mesarian, Chioneth, Galgaith

A'garyn

L'kav

M'thos

Only L’kav returned.

Neither smiling nor frowning, though he gestured quickly for him to follow with an all too familiar flick of his hand. Frowning, Aegaryn followed. Then he saw the rider’s eyes go vacant, ocean-still. Elsewhere. Speaking to, through, with someone.

It was odd up close, and unsettlingly intimate-- a little like stepping into a room he hadn’t been invited to, seeing something that wasn’t terrible, but not meant for him. Worse, like being mostly ignorant to it. Sensing a link that was invisible, untraceable, indistinguishable. Aegaryn couldn’t even back out or step away. He couldn't know what he was looking at, what was being said, what was happening. All he could do was wait until the man... came back.

A familiar part suddenly crawled beneath his skin, the urge to stop losing his focus and think only of what mattered. They were better off here until the spring thaw. There was no guarantee of the Weyr's good-will lasting, no matter what the Weyrleaders said. If he and Kav could quietly get enough things together over the next few months, and, barring any glaring misconduct, they could have enough supplies to help them survive long enough on the road to find more work. A legitimate Search could give them a protective layer for a little while longer, whether it was them or the others that fucked up. Possibly him. One never knew.

Half a candlemark later, Aegaryn stood behind L’kav, eyeing the white medallion of scar tissue burned into the base of the greenrider’s hairline, stark against the glossy black. The rider’s knuckles thunked on a heavy wooden door of the weyrlingmaster second's office.

Aegaryn hadn’t asked who they were meeting with now, and he hadn't quite registered who it was until the door swung open. It hardly mattered-- rider was rider. But standing in the barracks like this, a creeping sense of awareness set in. He was almost as far as Dren had been.

“Evening, sir,” he said after L'kav had greeted the other greenrider. At least a Weyrlingmaster Second would have seen the Searches from Naldhavi, Akadja, Hesbia, and Mesarian already, and presumably without issue. A good sign. He stood behind L’kav, his regard incurious without being rude.

L’kav sprawled in a chair, rolling his eyes as he offered M'thos the paperwork. “Azadath _did_ initially confirm the Search -- that wasn’t an issue. But T’sarun had a few personal issues with Aegaryn's, er, background.” He smiled warmly over his shoulder at him, like he hoped it’d save Aegaryn from getting discouraged.

"Oh, of course." M'thos said politely, though he shot L'kav a disbelieving look that he even went to the old man at all. T'sarun _should_ be removed from the Search rotation altogether, except that it was one of few things the man could still do from Valley Wing to keep him occupied. He took the hidework from the other greenrider and signed it as second, then tossed it on his desk. "Did L'kav give you a search token already, young man?"

“Oop-- not yet.” L'kav's hand froze mid-reach into his jacket before he flicked a small token over his shoulder. “I would have, but T’sarun was already purple, M'thos.”

"That vein in his forehead must've had something to say…."

Aegaryn caught it.

It weighed almost nothing. Little more than the air in his pocket-- but solid all the same.

Before anyone could second-guess the gesture, the token vanished into his fist. But the whole exchange felt too quick, too easy; like a joke he wasn't sure he was a part of.

“Thank you, sirs.” Aegaryn smiled, polite despite the ‘young man’ and the dull unease that would dance through him for the next sevenday. “I appreciate your time this evening. If there's nothing else you need from me?”

L'kav spread his empty hands. “Nothing else here.”

"Not yet." M'thos said. He tilted his head ever so slightly, thoughtful. "You present that token to Headwoman Oselle when you're ready, and she'll get you all set in the barracks. I assume that you've gone through all this trouble that you've made the decision to Stand?"

The magnifying lens slid back. Aegaryn kept still, his hazel eyes meeting M'thos’ blue with the first flicker of wariness, the kind that measured, weighed, and thought all at once. He took a breath. The rider's gaze stayed steady on him; still kinder than T'sarun's, free of the hard glassiness, that searching judgment.

He swallowed the venom out of his voice. Defiance wouldn't serve him, and neither would silence. His pulse thudded in his ears as he made the simple decision to be honest.

“Sir, I can admit I’m still unsure if it is _the_ path for me.” Aegaryn resisted glancing at L'kav. “But knowing whether it’s an option matters a great deal. For however long I am here. The Weyr has taken us in, and if the dragons say it's enough-” he almost laughed, or screamed, at how absurdly calm this was all coming out, “-then I figured I'd rather hear that from them.”

He glanced casually at the other greenrider, at least on the surface, while every sense felt the walls and eyes and weight of the question pressing in.

M'thos studied him for a moment longer. He wished Varethos was still in the barracks-- at least he would have been somewhat of a steadying influence on this influx of older holdless boys. "It's good to weigh your options. You're almost too old to Stand. You may get a chance at Galgaith's first clutch, if she rises to mate on time. Perhaps one of Chioneth's. It's a lifelong commitment, the dragons and The Weyr, and in a Pass it's likely to be a short one. I want you to really think about that before you decide. The Weyr needs strong, able bodies for all kinds of other work, if you decide you'd like to stay. It's not a choice between Standing for a dragon and getting thrown out."

“I'm aware,” Aegaryn replied. “I’m aware of my age and the likelihood of my Impressing, sir. And of how the Weyr needs able bodies, and how Searches in the Holds rarely provide as much information, or reflection time before taking people to the Weyr, so thank you.” Though he knew this man had some number of children and they might be justifiably unhappy about holdless joining the barracks, that M’thos was technically only doing his job, Aegaryn's hackles had been raised. “I've been here a few months and my reasons for considering staying are appropriately complicated, sir. I'll do my best to think about it as any other candidate would.” His voice hovered in that same low tone, Zolta's concern trickling in somewhere on his periphery. “May I be dismissed?”

"Nope." M'thos leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows against the desk. "I don't know your circumstances for becoming holdless, and perhaps it's naive of me, but there is very little I could consider to be a suitable punishment for someone your age. We have rules and structure here and it'll be different, but I'm not looking for ways to kick you out. If you want to be a dragonrider, _I_ want you to be a dragonrider. But I can't fill the Wings with people that can't follow instructions or work well with others."

M'thos leaned back again. "Now you're dismissed. I expect we'll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming months, you and I."

“Understood, sir.” Aegaryn let the words sit between them, a long deliberate beat passing after that dismissal just in case anyone else needed to see he could play at being trained. Follow orders.

With a tight nod to both greenriders, he turned and left the office.

When he looked up again he was in the Weyrbowl and the moons hung low and above him his breath flew away from him into the distant glitter of stars. dark sky lying open, vast and alive, endless galaxies whirling together beyond any reach of the Red Star.

And he was here.

Every time he looked up he half-expected to find himself somewhere else. The air bit hard at his face and it took a few minutes of crunching through the frost for his breathing to level out.

He was over halfway back to the lower caverns when Zolta appeared, a warm shimmer of gold.

“Hi,” Aegaryn murmured, catching her against his shoulder and into a tight hug. She crooned contentedly as he held her, at some point starting to feel more like a person, his body remembering where it was, who it belonged to. Someone without as many pieces of themselves as others, maybe, but at least with her he never had to perform. Had nothing to prove. Aegaryn pressed his cheek to her warm hide, absorbing the quiet weight of that feeling as he walked.

When he pulled away, she stayed pressed close, her eyes whirling slow.

“Softie,” Aegaryn whispered, the corner of his mouth twitching up, and she crooned again, softer still.

Last updated on the October 18th 2025

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What It Takes (2/2)