Love

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 15th January 2007

Characters: F'lin, Everlyin
Description: Felarin discusses Impressing with his mother, who most decidedly does _not_ want him to Stand
Location: River Bluff Weyr
Date: month 1, day 12 of Turn 4

"Hold still!"

"I am holding still!" Felarin said, squirming. Clips of hair fell against his cheeks and down into his collar - they itched!

Everlyin frowned and gave him a gentle whack on his shoulder. "Hold still, or your haircut will be uneven and you'll look scruffy."

"Ma, girls _like_ it when you look scruffy!"

She sighed a long suffering sigh. Mothers had to put up with so much!
"Girls. When _will_ you think about girls, hmm? You're of age to be married. Is that why you're in your own weyr rather than in the Candidate's barracks?"

Felarin coloured slightly - after arriving at the Weyr, he'd certainly been thinking about girls. _Women_. And doing more than thinking... his mother would be horrified if she knew. "No! It's because I snore so badly I keep everyone else awake. And besides, I'm thinking about Impressing, not women."

"You might not, you know," Everlyin said quietly. "You weren't Searched. And you'll be too old - you turned twenty one today, and the Eggs haven't even Hatched."

"Ma..." Felarin began, but Everlyin stopped him.

"There's still a place for you at Topaz Sea Hold. Winnit still asks about you sometimes - she's being courted by one of the itinerant men come to rebuild, you know. A carpenter."

A carpenter, just like him. Courting the girl that he'd used to have feelings for... before the tidal wave had destroyed everything and taken his father. Things were different afterwards, and he just couldn't summon up the innocent crush that he'd one had, or the ability to mourn its loss. "Good for her. I hope that they're happy together."

"Felarin. That's not what I meant."

"Ma, I know you miss me." He covered the hand she'd left on his shoulder with his own, sun browned and calloused. Older. Twenty one turns old, even - he was, technically, too old to Stand now, by a day. A measly day! But Tsaera wasn't above bending the rules slightly to let him onto the Sands, and he couldn't be more grateful. At least one of his relatives believed in him. "I miss you too-"

"Then come _home_ and forget this dragon nonsense!" Everlyin implored.

"I can't."

"Why not!?"

"Because I have to do this. I have to at least _try_!" Felarin grit his teeth and words came spilling out that he didn't mean to let loose. "I failed Dad, but I can make up for it here. Fixing walls won't make up for it."

"And neither will flying Thread," his mother snapped. She withdrew her hand and snipped her scissors menacingly close to his ear.
"Getting yourself killed isn't going to change anything. Your father is dead, and you're needed back at Topaz Sea Hold. You're just one of many here."

"I don't care," Felarin said rebelliously.

"Yes you do. You're not going to Impress, you know. You're chasing a dream that doesn't exist."

Her words cut frighteningly close to the bone. He was too old. He hadn't been Searched. There was no _way_ that he'd Impress... a deep sense of dread filled his belly as he thought of it. If he didn't Impress, then what? "It'll happen," he said stubbornly.

"You're a fool," she snapped. "No, I'm your son." Felarin shot back.

For a while there was silence as Everlyin clipped Felarin's shaggy hair into a semblance of order, and Felarin stared fixedly at the chess set that Tsaera had gotten him for his birthingday. It was finer than anything else he owned; a marble board with matching marble pieces shot through with golden ore. "I keep track of Threadfall, you know," Everlyin said quietly. The scissors went snip-snip-snip around Felarin's head. "Every time Mother, or B'nartil, or Neasale is in the sky I feel sick. Absolutely sick. I keep waiting for the day that I get a message saying that they're dead, torn to bits by Thread."

"Ma-"

"I can't worry about you too, Felarin. I can't do it."

"Then don't," he said gently. "I'll be fine. Nothing's ever happened to any of them, and nothing's going to happen to me."

"B'nartil lost two fingers and nearly lost his leg in the First Fall.
And G'lanet - ask Tsaera about G'lanet some day."

"That's different. They didn't know what to do then. Now, we do. I'll be fine. And I haven't even Impressed yet." Felarin was quiet for a moment as hair fell around his face and onto his lap. "Will you come to the Hatching Cavern? Grandmother says it'll probably be tomorrow."

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for all of Pern." Everlyin's expression was fierce as she cut away at Felarin's hair. She tried to picture him the way he'd been at five, or ten turns of age, and couldn't. "But you'll have to excuse me if I hope with all my heart that you leave that Cavern alone."

"I know."

The snipping stopped. Everlyin leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her son's stubbled cheek. "I love you, you know."

Felarin smiled weakly. "I know. I love you too." And that was it, wasn't it? Sometimes love was the problem.

Last updated on the January 17th 2007

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