A Thin Membrane
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: Iluva
Date Posted: 22nd August 2026
Characters: A'garyn
Description: His jacket fits. That’s the problem
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 4, day 8 of Turn 13
Notes: Follows ‘Reflections’
Mentioned: R’zen, Dorix (NPC), Drenorik (NPC)
A’garyn moved quickly down the corridor of the barracks without looking at anyone.
Soon communal quarters would be one more thing of the past. The noise, the close scrutiny of domestic spaces would lift a little. An exhale opening up the world just to let everything that waited outside to press in. He already had a strange, squirming unease about what lay ahead next: their own weyrs.
Back in his alcove, however, it was no less a relief to be away from the gathering crowd. The noise down the hall kept dragging over, crawling under his skin as if he hadn’t left. A’garyn dragged the curtain over, dragged in a slow breath and shut out his thoughts. He heard the scratch of talons, felt that bronze muzzle pressing along his shoulder, the familiar closeness instantly soothing in a way he only ever knew with his dragon. **It’s alright,** he told him, caressing his jaw. **Just on edge.** Talarcheth knew that but kept close to his side.
R’zen’s ambition had sunk under his skin a bit, as well. His unwavering certainty added to the edge. Talarcheth’s, too.
The thoughts kept trying to come. His chat with the bluerider lingered in the back of his mind, rolling over and over, and yet the leathers were just lying there on his cot.
It was not what A’garyn expected, and in truth he hadn’t expected anything when they were handed to him earlier that day. Standard issue. Practical clothing to do a job. That was it. That was all they were supposed to be. And, for a moment at least, before he’d actually put them on, that’s all it seemed they were.
They were still splayed as haphazardly as when he’d left, shed in a manic hurry, but he folded them carefully enough and arranged them from which pieces he’d put on first to last. Sighing, his eyes flitting over the individual hardware on each item, A’garyn stacked the lot of it in his trunk and patted it down almost tenderly. But something kept him from closing the lid. Without giving himself a chance to stop, the jacket got shrugged up his shoulders. The lining was thick and butter smooth. It didn’t bunch in the crooks of his elbows, but of course it was made to not impede the wearer in any way, to interfere. The brown leather hung open like sails from his shoulders until he worked the fastenings closed, slid his hands down his chest and stomach, and let his touch trail the expertly stitched hem. Not like the riding jackets of his youth, which were almost as fine and just as dark; rather, this fell with the weight of it wrapping around him as if it was another part of Talarcheth settling in. The fit was right. It took a few moments to appreciate what bothered him this time.
Talarcheth sniffed at the edge of it, looking carefully, intrigued despite himself. }:You look the way you should.:{
A’garyn wasn’t sure what that meant. Why he felt so spooked.
He didn’t need the help of a mirror for it. Excitement slithered slowly beneath the jacket lining like a second skin.
It was a closeness to himself, he realized, to what was being honed and earned through the haze of exhaustion each day. A physical confirmation of their progress. R'zen said it best: another sign they were a pair. That all of this was real.
A’garyn tested the density, pinching it now with the cool slivers of doubt joining the excitement. That this could possibly be enough to keep Thread from instantly eating his skin seemed impossible. Could it buy him enough time to get /between/? Get away?
Doubtful.
Turns ago, far beyond the borders of Dragonsfall, he’d seen what Thread could do to a person. But that had only been far enough for it not to pose an immediate threat to his own body. They hadn’t stuck around to see what happened after. This would be but one hair's breadth away from the actual sensation. That thinned the thickness between his fingers, more thin membrane than insulation. It did not seem enough.
But this was it. It was what dragonriders wore in the cold and the cost. Death and carnage were part of the deal. Death in the sky was the whole reason there were dragons.
The thing that would actually protect and ensure any life at all was the one whose hot breath kept falling down the back of his collar. He couldn’t bring himself to imagine what it could do to the shining expanse of his hide. The aftermath of it in Dorix came to mind. That permanent shadow left behind by Saeruth. It formed an indelible image on his memory even back then, and just the barest edge of it curdled something in his blood now, as so many things did as of late.
Responsibility. Duty, and Dren. His heart slowed, the weight of it settling rather than striking. He undid the fastenings but didn’t take it off. He had never felt so odd, so comfortable, or so grotesque as when he put it on.
}:He is not here.:{ His dragon reminded him, simply, without bite. The only person who had actually wanted to see A’garyn in this jacket was not here and could never be. Talarcheth’s voice speared through the hesitation in A’garyn’s mind, understanding and yet not at all. }:It is alright that it is only us.:{
A’garyn, who adjusted the cuffs, not quite looking at his dragon, felt almost nauseous with guilt. **That’s the problem.** Six turns onward, and he was living. Building something out of the ash of Dren’s dream.
}:Maybe your resistance is the problem? There is no shame in living.:{ Talarcheth rumbled, and his certainty was almost a command if he weren’t so convinced that A’garyn already knew it: }:It suits you. Let it.:{
Last updated on the October 28th 2026