A Eulogy for River Bluff Weyr

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 31st July 2017
Series: The Ruin of River Bluff Weyr

Characters: F'lin
Description: How do you mourn a place?
Location: River Bluff Weyr
Date: month 12, day 28 of Turn 8
Notes: Mentioned: Lenala, K'sedel, K'ran

The remains of the cliff was raw, sharp edges gilded red by the sunset. F'lin sat on an outcropping a little ways down the beach where he could see the broken remains of River Bluff Weyr, but not have to talk to any of the masons and workers who were still trying to put it back together. And somewhere beneath all that stone were Lenala and Vilarth, forever protecting a Clutch of unborn dragons curled in shattered shells.

It was all gone.

How do you mourn a place? His home, his family and friends, the familiar caverns and pools with their patina of memories, all erased. His grandmother's suite, when she'd been Weyrwoman, where she'd helped him find his true calling and he'd started to learn from her how to be a leader. The Hatching Caverns where he'd first locked eyes with Seneth. His own weyr, comfortable as well worn riding leathers. His home. The first place he'd felt he'd belonged after his father drowned somewhere in the sea Turns earlier, and Topaz Sea Hold had been battered to pieces by the waves. It was a palimpsest of memories and warm feelings indelibly written into the stones themselves.

This was _his_ Weyr. It was in his history, his blood. His heart beat in time with the waves that carved its shore. And it was _gone_.

Behind him, Seneth began to softly keen, echoing his rider's grief. The skies should have flashed with jewel-toned dragons' wings and there should be a golden queen presiding over the bluff. But it was empty. The skies held only ghosts.

F'lin put his head in his hands, unable to bear looking at the scars on the cliff but unable to turn his back on it either. This Weyr was _his_. He had been born to follow in his grandmother's footsteps and finish what she'd started: guiding it and its Weyrholding through the Pass. K'sedel had believed in him enough to train him as Wingsecond, and K'ran had trusted him enough to let him continue when he'd won the Senior Queen's flight and had taken over Rapids Wing. He'd finally found his path in life. He'd lived for his knots, and then--

They gave up. Everyone was giving up. The masons said the cliff was uninhabitable and couldn't support a Weyr. The Hatching Caverns were buried and unless, and no one wanted to exhume the Senior Queen. The Weyr was being abandoned. The Conclave had tossed the Weyrholding to the surrounding Holds to snarl over like canines over a bone. The Wings would be scattered across the Southern Continent. It made him sick to think about it, and furious at K'ran for not fighting harder.

And what would happen to him? Everything he'd worked for was buried beneath the shattered cliff. Even the dream itself. The place he'd loved and worked for was ash and ruin and death, everything except Rapids Wing itself. And who knows what they'd face at Dolphin Cove Weyr.

The sun slipped behind the horizon and shadows hid the broken cliff. Glowlights bobbed in the dark as workers continued to clear away rubble, rebuild beast pens and broken foundations. F'lin sat with his head in his hands and a gaping, howling hole where his heart should be. River Bluff Weyr was over. And so was he.

Last updated on the August 23rd 2017

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A Eulogy for River Bluff Weyr