Talking Time
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: Corrin, Duskdog
Date Posted: 30th March 2026
Characters: Rhynnan, Liannor
Description: Two greenriders react to the Timing Reveal at Barrier Lake
Location: Vintner Hall
Date: month 13, day 9 of Turn 12
The Vintner Hall’s tavern was busy enough to provide cover, which wasn’t actually the reason that Rhynnan had chosen it (what was the point of a tavern if drinks weren’t?), but it was convenient, just the same.
Most of the tables near the hearth were crowded with crafters and holdfolk unwinding after the day’s work, the air thick with laughter, spilled ale, and the clatter of dishes. But the little corner table she’d claimed sat far enough away from the worst of the noise that they’d be able to hear each other, but also keep a private conversation private -- which mattered, given the subject matter gnawing at the back of her brain tonight.
She drummed her fingers against the side of her wineglass, taking vague satisfaction in the tink-tink-tink sound as she stared down into the drink.
Time it.
Even now, the words felt unreal.
Dragons could slip between times as well as places -- and, for turns, that knowledge had been carefully kept among bronzeriders and brownriders, withheld from the rest of the Weyr as if riders of other colors were somehow less trustworthy with it.
Or less capable.
Or simply less important.
Rhynnan blew out a slow breath through her nose.
From the standpoint of a dragonhealer alone, the whole arrangement made her itch. Dangerous knowledge about dragons deliberately kept from some people whose entire craft revolved around understanding and protecting them? It was the sort of logic that made her want to march straight into the Weyrleader’s office and start asking uncomfortable questions.
(It was too bad that she couldn’t imagine any questions that would actually make Q’vettan uncomfortable. He just didn’t seem the type to care enough about anything to actually squirm when put on the spot.)
The more personal side of all of this was… messier. And something she hadn’t decided yet how to deal with.
She finally took a drink from her abused glass, and glanced toward the door just as it opened again, cool evening air spilling briefly into the room.
Rhynnan’s mouth tugged into a faint, crooked smile when she spotted the familiar figure stepping inside. She lifted her glass slightly in greeting and tipped her head towards the empty chair across from her.
“Please tell me you’ve brought at least five good reasons for me not to start a fight with half the bronzeriders in the Weyr.”
Peeling off her helmet and shaking out her blond mane, Liannor stalked over to the table and threw herself down in the proffered chair. “Oh, how _could_ I?” she asked, sing-song, turning on Rhynnan a smile that was sickly sweet and strangely sharp. “I’m just a greenrider and _far_ too simple for such deep thoughts!”
The mock sweetness didn’t last. It twisted into a simmering rage as she shucked her jacket and hurled her gear down at her feet with vicious force. “Oooh! All this blasted time…” Her hands clenched and unclenched in the air in front of her, knuckles flashing white. “When I think of how many of them _knew_! Rhy. My blood is _boiling_.”
“If it hadn’t come from D’brul and Q’vettan I’d almost just brush it off as a joke,” Rhynnan replied, relaxing a bit -- not because she was no longer angry, but because it was a relief to have someone open to venting the betrayal of it all. “Makes the fact that they finally decided we were worth promoting past wingthird seem a lot less like progress, in retrospect. Just throwing us a bone while the real test of trust was right there behind the curtain all along?”
“A bone to placate us,” snarled Liannor as she poured herself a brimming glass of wine. It was a good thing Rhynnan had found them a remote corner to sit, because she was not in the mood to be quiet about this injustice-- and she sorely wanted a drink. “Meanwhile they were teaching any man or boy with shit colored knots how to between through times. All because the color of their hide made them smarter? More capable of trust?”
}: Find Him, :{ Lariath hissed through her thoughts, incensed on behalf of her rider and her color. }: Roar him down. Give him a piece of our mind! :{
“I have known so many brownzers with rocks for brains,” she seethed, inhaling a quarter of her glass. “What an inanely sexist, colorist choice!”
“They _do_ like feeling special,” Rhynnan snorted, taking a sip of wine. “No matter how much they claim they don’t, there’s a reason all the boys pin their hopes on Impressing ‘well’. And to think, we used to roll our eyes at them in weyrling training when they’d puff up like avians and try to take charge. They were getting secret information all along. Now it makes sense why they were all so full of themselves.”
She tapped her fingers against the glass again in thoughtful agitation. “How many of them do you think took advantage of it? There’s no way they all just… kept it a secret all this time -- a noble sacrifice of silence -- and none of them used it somehow.”
“All of them. Most of them,” Liannor predicted with bitter pessimism. “Those colors are not known for their humility.”
It took a moment for her to hear her own hypocrisy and she glowered. “I get to be colorist too.
“Maybe there were a few brownriders too cautious. But the rest? Considering they learned in weyrlinghood? I can't imagine the bulk of them didn't at least _try_ at some point. Who wouldn't have been tempted? Who hasn't had a moment they wished they could stop or change?”
The thought -- and implications of it -- ignited something sickly and uncomfortable in Rhynnan's gut.
“Would we ever know if they did?” she wondered aloud. “Would--” She cut herself off as a server passed too close to the table, and waited for her to pass. “I get that it's dangerous. I get why it shouldn't be done. But I don't trust them all to be smart enough, or have enough moral scruples, to understand or care about that. And if they did it right, we'd never know, would we? It would be all we remembered. And if they did it wrong…” Rhynnan paled at the thought. “If they did it wrong, we'd just know them as lost /between/, wouldn't we? And maybe they _are_ lost. Or… maybe alive and just some_when_ else?”
Liannor turned her glower on the server until they passed. She was angry, furious really, but the only thing worse than finding out a quarter of all dragonriders have been keeping a powerful secret from her would be the rest of the world finding out. She wasn’t ready to deal with that level of calamity yet, so she was mindful enough to curb her tongue.
“That’s a chilling thought,” she said when it was safe. “Though I can’t say I feel much sympathy right now. I’m too mad. If they tried to meddle and got trapped, maybe that’s just what they deserve for keeping this all to themselves.”
Rhynnan downed the rest of her wine all at once, taking a moment to let that settle before sighing. “I just can't believe how many of them looked us in the eye and thought ‘oh, she can't handle this information.’ Not the bronzes and browns in general. But… the ones who _know_ us. The ones who say they _love_us. Any one of us could have accidentally done it, and been lost or too terrified and confused to find our way back, or even appeared from /between/ inside a structure that shouldn't be there… and they thought ‘yes, that is an acceptable risk to take.’”
The thought was depressing. Painful.
“I need more to drink,” she decided. “Let's get another bottle and get soused.”
“Let’s.”
Last updated on the April 1st 2026