Children Are Strange Things

Writers: Rochelle
Date Posted: 1st September 2007

Characters: R'syl
Description: R'yl attends his son's Hatching at Telgar Weyr, and is disappointed when his children refuse to acknowledge him.
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 5, day 28 of Turn 4

The wind whipped R'syl's face as he leaned into Usaeth's descent as they dropped through the gray of Telgar's early evening. He tried not to look to either side as Usaeth made several abrupt course corrections to keep from colliding with several dozen other dragons vying for landing space in front of the Hatching cavern.
**Has it started yet?** R'syl thought anxiously as Usaeth pulled up sharply, coming in for a landing in a very tight space. He could hear the thrum of welcoming dragons echoing out of the cavern, to be answered by Usaeth's rumble between his legs.

}:No.:{ Usaeth answered, crouching as R'sul quickly undid the straps and slid to the ground. }:But soon. Very soon.:{ R'syl slapped his lifemate in thanks, and broke into a run as Usaeth leaped into the air to make way for a pair of greens with passengers. He waved an answer to a few hails from people he'd known in his Turns at Telgar as he slowed down near the entrance, stripping his riding jacket and helmet off to expose his hastily donned Hatching finery. It wouldn't do for River Bluff's Weyrlingmaster to show up dressed in his drill clothes.

He paused in the entrance to the cavern, his eyes straying to the sands where the eggs were rocking spastically. The candidates had not been herded in yet. He was in time. Swiftly, he strode over to the stands, hesitating for a moment as he scanned the faces there for familiar outlines, his heart in his throat.
But the people he recognized were not the two he was so anxiously looking for. He swallowed, scanned the stands again, and swiftly made his way towards a seat in the center of the stands. Maybe they hadn't arrived yet.
There were certainly more than enough people still streaming in.

"R'syl!" He heard the familiar voice of one of the Telgar weyrlingstaff, and after a few seconds of searching spotted a familiar waving arm in among dozens of others. "Over here!"

With disturbing ease, he ran the last few steps to the row, waving acknowledgement that he had heard Sohhen's call, and eased his way along the aisle until he reached the empty seat beside the graying woman. She smiled benignly at him. "I thought you'd come." She said, satisfaction in her voice. "I didn't think you want to miss it, just in case."

"It was a near thing." He admitted. "A few more candlemarks and I couldn't have broken away. Threadfall tomorrow." He leaned back, letting another visitor ease past him before turning back to Sohhen. "How... have they.."
He stopped, not knowing how to continue.

Sohhen's gaze softened. "They've been doing fine, R'syl. Sairyl hasn't been scored or even misbehaved once, and seems to be quite popular in her wing now. Sairros has been seen eyeing one of the lower cavern girls quite a bit lately. Filluren even saw them kissing in a corner, so he may actually be serious about this one. Thorom has been working hard with the other beastcrafters, and he seems to be happy enough. Not that any of them appreciate seeing me around. They know I'm watching for you."

R'syl closed his eyes for a moment, his heart squeezing tightly in his chest. They were doing fine without him. He'd hoped so, but.. he didn't know what he was hoping anymore. He opened his eyes quickly. He just had to see them. Even if they didn't say anything, he had to see them. Sohhen covered his hand with hers, and he glanced at her. She nodded understandingly, and pointed with her spare hand. "There. By the fat man in the vermillion tunic."

He followed her gaze, and felt his heart jump at the sight of a familiar dark brown head, the hair loose and blowing around her shoulders. Sairyl was entering with a group of several other greenriders, laughing as they hurried across the sands. He started to stand, slipping out from under Sohhen's unresisting hand to catch his daughter's attention, and froze in a half crouch, uncertain what to do. He didn't want to force her.

She finished laughing, quickly sidestepping a group of miners as she chatted with her friends, all their eyes scanning the stands for a place to sit. Sairyl's gaze traveled from the back of the cavern toward the front -and met his gaze.

He caught his breath, trying to give her a little smile, something to let her know that he wasn't going to force anything, that he was there if she wanted him, and failed. For a long moment their eyes held, a series of indefinable emotions crossing her face. Impatient with her sudden slow pace, one of her greenrider friends tugged on his daughter's arm, and she turned away from him, breaking the eye contact.

His heart fell, and he slowly lowered himself back to his seat, watching his daughter's retreating back amid the bubble of young riders. He swallowed, and before he could turn back to Sohhen again, caught a glimpse of yet another familiar dark head. Sairros, entering with another beastcrafter. He watched, not able to bring himself to stand again, as his son scanned the stands, his eyes passing right over where his father was sitting without any sign of recognition. But he saw his son turn away, jerking his companion toward the far side of the stands, and R'syl's heart finished it's fall from his throat. Sairros had seen him. There were still plenty of seats available in the center section, and it was Sairros's favorite place to sit. He wouldn't have turned away if he hadn't seen him.

"Children are strange things." Sohhen murmured into his ear, gently taking his hand. "One day they want nothing to do with you, and it hurts like a 'score to your heart. The next day you can't get rid of them. They'll come around eventually, R'syl."

He looked at her, wanting to believe her honest gray eyes as she smiled softly for his sake. She was one of the few who knew about Rosair. Knew, but didn't care. Her own losses over the turns, with a brother trapped in a sabotaged mine and losing three grandchildren to Thread, were similar enough to his own that they had created a strange sort of kinship while he was at Telgar, and she still kept him apprised of his children through letters.

"I hope you're right, Sohhen." He said at last, trying not to see where his son had gone.

The stands finished filling quickly, the excited hum of the visitors and weyrfolk growing more intense as the eggs rocked more violently. Cracks were beginning to show in some of the larger eggs when the white-robed candidates finally appeared, hurriedly mincing across the Sands to get into position before the eggs cracked.

"Look, there's Thorom." Sohhen pointed out, indicating a muscular young man near the end of the line.

"I see him." R'syl replied, his eyes fastening onto the distant figure.
His heart contracted again. Thorom had grown in the last few months, and was filling out. He hadn't been this muscular when he left. What else in his son's life had he missed?

The dragon's hum intensified as the last few candidates scurried onto the Sands, and the audience gave a collective gasp as on of the eggs in the center burst apart in a small shower of shell fragments, revealing a pitifully creeling brown. The last candidate, a young boy barely old enough to Stand and having difficulty keeping up with his classmates, gave an incredulous shriek as his scramble to the sands became a staggering dash toward the little brown. "His name is Erthossith!" he cried in delight.

And so it went, with roars of approval from the Stands as each Impression was made, R'syl's eyes fastened on one particular candidate, praying, hoping that some little dragonet would make his way toward his son, no matter what the color.

But Thorom's dragon wasn't there, and R'syl could see the frustration on his son's face as the people around him thinned with startled cries and hungry dragonets. At last it was over, and the last little green was being led off the Sands by her new rider, followed by the first of the visitors in the Stands, one their way to the Hatching feast.

"There's Filluren. I'll see you at the feast?" Sohhen asked, standing. He nodded briefly, watching as Sairyl and her friends came down from the Stands. Sairros was already there, and Thorom was still looking disappointed on the Sands. R'syl caught his breath, hoping without actually knowing what he was hoping for, some kind of recognition maybe, as his children passed within arms length of each other.

Only to let it out in a sad sigh as they walked right past one another, without any signs of greeting. Nothing. They had not only moved beyond him, but beyond each other as well. He dropped his head, staring at the sand tracked on the stone beneath his feet. Gone. They were right in front of him, he could call out to them, but they were gone. His family was gone.

"Come to the feast." Sohhen said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder as the cavern emptied. "Have some food before you go and get drunk at River Bluff."

Numbly he shook his head, a soft, bitter laugh escaping him. "No.
Threadfall tomorrow, remember?"

"Then have a drink before you go." Sohhen said, pulling him to his feet.
"You never know. There's always Thorom."

He shook his head again, but didn't answer, following her out of the cavern. He didn't need to have Thorom break his heart to know what would happen with his stubborn son. His children had moved on without him, leaving him stuck with a past full of their memories.

Last updated on the September 2nd 2007

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Children Are Strange Things