Lingering Grief

Writers: Avery
Date Posted: 1st May 2014

Characters: L'pin, Ikalis
Description: L'pin handles the anniversary of his son's death poorly
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 6, day 20 of Turn 7
Notes: Mentioned: R'min, Panitath

Despite his occasionally unkempt and harried appearance, L'pin could be reasonably organized. He kept a calendar in his weyr that was prominently displayed by the door. It had important dates for each month written on it, and anytime he had an assigned job, or someone made an appointment with him, he put it down there.

Everyone noticed it when they walked in, but people's responses to it varied. It had been a source of endless amusements for his weyrmates - he still remembered the time Minara had written her and Runard's names down on a restday in order to prevent him from overcommitting his time and energy to anyone else. Once he'd become part of a weyrlingstaff, it had become a reassurance for weyrlings who wanted to know he'd make time with them.

Even after he'd stopped being weyrlingstaff, he'd kept the habit up. Usually he liked the level of structure it brought to his daily existence. But some days…

There were some events he didn't put on the calendar. Some dates were seared into his memory in a way he could never forget. Why record something you knew as well as your own body? Today was one of those.

Even though there was nothing on the calendar, he couldn't bear to look at it, to see what date it was with his own eyes. So he'd fled down into the depths of the lower caverns, to the little room he'd been using for music practice lessons with Alina. It wasn't a day they were scheduled to have lessons, so he hoped that she wouldn't stop down there. And few other people knew where it was or came in to use it, or so he'd heard from prior Headwomen, so he should be safe on his own.

He felt a little bit guilty for needing the day off. It was his first month back on the weyrlingstaff, so he'd been a bit afraid that asking for a day off would look like he wasn't committed enough. He hadn't wanted to count on the kindnesses of others. But there were those who knew why he needed to not look at weyrlings or candidates this day in particular, and it had been granted with no words of complaint - at least none anywhere he could hear.

Today, there were no classes, no scheduled appointments for extra lessons. Just the ghosts of times-that-were hovering around him wherever he went. He'd left his weyr when he had imagined his son was sitting in one of the chairs he kept for visitors, leg up on the arm, grinning while he recounted the latest prank. For a moment, it had been so real that he opened his mouth to answer - and then the moment broke and he closed his mouth on a breath that sounded like a sob.

Warmth and comfort radiated from Chaneth to envelop his rider. The blue shifted on the heights, rustling his wings and disturbing the green he'd been trying to impress. He ignored her sound of disapproval, focusing on calming his rider. He only had faint memories of Tagirath and his rider, but he knew that the loss of a hatchling was devastating, more so when the hatchling was yours. But what could he do for his rider?

}:We should go away from here,:{ he suggested. Somewhere else, where his rider would not be tormented by these feelings of loss. He was disappoointed that his rider was so far away while sorrowing, so he projected tantalizing images of waves on the ocean, a fresh meadow full of flowers with some tasty herdbeasts, images of light and nature and warmth that he hoped would encourage his rider out of the dark caves and out to him.

"I don't want to." The sound of his voice echoed around the tiny room, and he flinched at it. Where could he go? Back to Rising Moons? That held the ghosts of his weyrmates, and in his current mood he didn't need to see anything else painful. He had enough to deal with here at Dolphin Cove with the ghost of his son. He'd learned to live with the way his heart pinched every time he saw someone who moved the right way, a blue that was the right shade. Most of the time he could make it through the day fine. But today…

L'pin wasn't ordinarily a man given to violence or physical actions, but the grief welling up in him was strong and needed a physical outlet. He swept his hand across the table quickly. It knocked the other chair into the wall. He was surprised at both the action, which he hadn't really intended, and the strength of his own blow. The chair clattered and the leg snapped, and he immediately felt guilty for the damage that he had caused.

He picked it up and leaned it against the wall. It was mostly stable on three legs, but still clearly damaged. He bit his lip. More for the new Headwoman to have to deal with.

A blue firelizard swept into the room, probably attracted by the noise. It flapped its pale wings and chittering in an aggressive manner before popping /between/.

Realizing that its owner would be along soon, he sighed. Run away and leave the scene of the crime, or own up to it? It was known he used this room, so there seemed no point in fleeing. He might as well make things right. So he sat in the other chair and waited for whoever owned the firelizard to show up.

Within a few minutes, they did. He recognized Ikalis at once, thought it might have been easier to talk to a stranger. "I might have broken the chair."

She looked him over with a critical eye. "I know you haven't eaten enough to get that fat."

He shrugged, unwilling to talk about it but just as reluctant to directly lie. "Do I need to pay for it?"

She looked up towards the ceiling as she mentally ran through inventory. "We've got other ones in storage, and this one can probably be repaired without too much trouble."

"I'm sorry if I made your job more difficult."

"As I'm sure you know, weyrlings and candidates can be pretty hard on furniture. This isn't the worst thing to happen this month. Stuff got broken after Panitath's flight."

And by stuff, she probably meant flight cots. He felt a reluctant smile dragged out of him at the image - goldflights could be pretty rough things at times. "I see."

"I'll get this fixed up by tonight and you can go back to teaching lessons here." She started to leave the room, but then hesitated at the door.

R'min had been her friend. She suspected what was going on, and she was enough of a meddler in other people's personal lives to not want to let it go. "Do you want some brandy and a sympathetic ear later?"

"What?" He'd almost forgotten about her presence, and the offer seemed to come out of nowhere. "I'm sure you have better things to do than humor an old man with your time."

She snorted. "You're not that old. Besides, I bet I know some stories you don't. Or I could listen, if you want to tell yours. I'm just saying, think about it. I could bring you a whole batch of bubblies, just for you."

"That's very tempting," he admitted.

"And by the way, get some sun. You're pale enough to be a ghost!" she tossed back, then escaped out the door before he could retort. He might not follow up on her offer, but at least she'd made it. Taking care of weyr morale was totally her business, right?

He wasn't sure if he was going to take the impudent caverns girl up on her offer, but his found himself touched by the fact she'd thought to ask. It was easy to forget that there were advantages here, people who knew him and cared about him. His mood was bolstered.

}:Are you sure we can't leave?:{ Chaneth asked, sensing the shift in his rider's mood.

**Alright, you big blue lump. We can go to the mountains.** He walked out of the room, not feeling well enough to whistle, but with a bit more lightness in his limping step.

Last updated on the May 4th 2014

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Lingering Grief