G'zan's Lessons in De-escalation

Writers: Duskdog, Sia
Date Posted: 21st April 2025
Series: The Perfect Storm

Characters: K'valas, G'zan
Description: G'zan de-escalates a situation outside the caves
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 5, day 5 of Turn 12

G'zan

Kavalas stumbled forward, bracing a hand against the cold stone wall as he dragged himself from the tunnel’s gaping mouth. His clothes hung heavy against his thick frame, plastered to every muscle like a second skin. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a cloud of mist in the frigid air. His fingers were stiff, numb, and trembling, but he still managed to rip free the soaked remnants of his cloak, tossing it aside with a wet slap against the rocks.

The tunnel had nearly drowned him. The passageway to the small cave he had been in filled fast enough that he'd had to hold his breath and navigate the dark water through frantic touch and the push of an inexperienced swimmer. If he’d hesitated a moment longer, he’d be nothing but another nameless body lost in the flood.

His boot slipped in the muck, but he caught himself, snarling under his breath. He needed warmth - dry clothes, fire, something - but before he could take another step, movement in his periphery snapped his instincts into place.

Kavalas' hand went to his belt before he could even think. The dagger was in his grip in an instant, its edge gleaming wickedly in the light. He whirled, muscles coiled tight despite the way the cold made his limbs feel like lead.

G’zan knew that look -- the look of someone cornered and pushed to their limits. Unsurprising, considering everything happening here. And he knew how it felt to have to be on edge all the time, waiting for a fight.

He held up his hands. “Whoa, hey, it’s okay. I’m a dragonrider. We came to help -- we’ve been getting folks out of the caverns best we can. You okay?”

Kavalas' breath sawed through his throat, each inhale raw and ragged. His dagger was still firm in his grip, even as the worst of the tension bled from his shoulders. Dragonriders. Dragonriders? The knots on the man's shoulders were familiar. A band of green.He swallowed back another coughing fit, his body trembling from more than just the cold. The dagger stayed in his hand, but he didn’t raise it again.

“I don’t need a dragonrider,” he managed. His voice was rough, frayed at the edges, but steady enough. “I got out just fine.”

“You did. Shells, guy, if you got out of that tunnel back there,” G’zan jerked a thumb in the direction of the tunnel opening, “by yourself, that’s sharding crazy! That’s Holdless folk for you, though, eh? Ain’t nobody gonna stomp us out -- not even Pern herself, I guess!” The proud grin on his face softened. “But hey, you don’t have to _need_ help to take it when it’s offered. We got dry clothes and blankets and food. You want some?”

Kavalas wavered. The instinct to snarl a refusal was there, sharp and immediate, but so was the shudder that ran through him, the way his fingers ached from cold and strain. He clenched them tighter around the dagger’s hilt. He didn’t trust charity. He couldn't. Nothing came free.

And yet.

The tunnel had nearly drowned him. His limbs were shaking, his breath still labored, and the prospect of warmth scraped against the raw edges of his pride. His eyes flicked over G’zan. A dragonrider. Us. "What?" He managed, the tone and the grin more confusing than the rest of the chaos around them. "You were holdless?"

G'zan's smile went soft. “Yeah, man, I was. Born into it! It was a long time ago -- you can probably tell I'm kinda old!” He ran a hand through his prematurely-greying hair. “But I get it. There's probably nothing I can say that'll convince you our help is free ‘cause that's a big chance to take when you've got nobody but yourself, but it really is. Somebody called, we came. I got buddies going into the caves now to help get people out. So whaddya say? Get dry and warm and fed, then you can leave if you wanna. We ain't guardsmen.”

That was for sure. Holdless. The word echoed in his mind like a cracked bell. It wasn’t often he heard someone say it without disdain, or pity. But being born into it was different than being made into it. Looking at him, he would have been a greenrider longer than he'd been holdless now.

Still, food and dry clothes and fire was enticing. Cold gnawed at his bones, and the panic from the flooding still lingered beneath the surface of his skin. Kavalas sheathed the dagger with a slow, practiced motion, his fingers sluggish and clumsy. His gaze never left G’zan's face, though, studying the greenrider like a man half-expecting betrayal. Maybe not now. Maybe later.

“You got food?”

“We got clothes and blankets here at our set-up. The food’s at the Weyr -- we’re taking people there, since there’s not really anywhere safe to go here. You don’t _have_ to go there if you don’t feel safe about it, but the food’s better than anything I ever had when I was on the road. At least come get some dry clothes and warm your bones. Then you can decide if you wanna come with us or not.”

"Maybe. I need to find my…" Kavalas paused, distrust still plain despite the green thread in G'zan's knots. It was more than that. He didn't know how to describe his relationship to Aegaryn, had no idea where to start trying to articulate what he meant to him. "My friend. Aegaryn. He'd be where it's drier."

G’zan nodded. Nothing strange about wanting to check up on friends and family. “Well, we can check for him back at the tents. Maybe he’s out already. And if he’s not… we’ll go looking for him.”

Kavalas nodded, though his eyes were already casting about the area, searching for him. "He has a gold firelizard." He added absently. "Be easy to see, if he's here." If he was out, he thought. He didn't want to think about that. Of course he made it out. They'd make a plan and get out of here. Aegaryn always had a plan. "Lead the way, greenrider."

Last updated on the April 25th 2025

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G'zan's Lessons in De-escalation