Don't Shoot the Messenger

Writers: Leigh M-F., Eimi
Date Posted: 1st June 2013

Characters: A'kua, Hygalia
Description: It's just running a message; how bad could it be?
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 12, day 27 of Turn 6
Notes: Mentioned: T'mahl

Notes: Mentor approved. Delayed due to Eimi's LIA.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it." His boot heels clacked on the ground in time with each word. "Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it." No, such mild profanity just wasn't cutting it. Aluka let loose a stream of phrases that would have done an experienced sailor proud and made them blush at the same time.

Why did he, of all people, have to take a note to the Weyrwoman? Couldn't T'mahl have waited until another Candidate was available? Fardles, why not use a fire-lizard, or get another dragon to talk to the Weyrwoman's gold? Was the message that sensitive? He had no clue; he was an honest enough person to not take a peek, since reading someone's mail was a clear violation of privacy. If he did it, it would certainly bite him on the arse at some point.

In any case, it was too late now. The Weyrwoman's weyr was just up ahead, and he hoped he wouldn't run into her dragon as well. If he couldn't work up the nerve to speak to the Weyrwoman about becoming a Candidate, how in the world could he speak to her dragon for permission to pass?

Hygalia had just sat back on her sofa with a cool beer and a good book when she heard the knock on the door. Her first night without hidework in a sevenday, and it just figured someone would come looking for her! Sighing, she pulled her feet off of the table. **This better be good,** she grumbled inwardly. The Weyrwoman pulled the robe off of the peg next to the door and tied it around her, mostly hiding the oversized tunic and men's sleeping trousers she preferred to relax in. She had to keep up appearances after all! Running her fingers through her hair quickly, she reached for the handle. "Yes?" she asked in her sweetest voice as she opened the door.

Whoa. Aluka was so surprised, he almost stepped away from the door. This was the Weyrwoman? She was pretty and lofty, yes, but sweet Ancients, that clothing was horrible. Ill-fitting, faded colors, probably just thrown on without thinking about how they would look- and yet, it looked surprisingly comfy. Oh, fardles. That was lounge-around clothing, wasn't
it? He had better get the shells out of there. He didn't want to know what happened to people who disturbed a ranker's personal time. Aluka mentally cursed up a storm and raised the hand holding the folded hide. "I am very sorry to disturb you, Weyrwoman," he said formally, hiding his accent under one that sounded as though he had been in Dragonsfall for a lifetime instead of a Turn, "but I was told to deliver a message directly to you."

"T'mahl?" she asked with a slight frown, taking the message gently from him. The Weyrlingmaster Second wouldn't disturb her at this time of the evening if it weren't important. "Please come in," she said, standing back from the door and waving a beckoning hand. The Candidate might be needed to run a reply.

Wait, what? He was being invited into the Weyrwoman's quarters?! Oh, fardles, again. (He had a feeling he was going to be thinking that several times in less than a half hour.) He didn't want to follow, but, well, the Weyrwoman had made a request, and it may as well have been an order. The redhead said, still mimicking the proper accent, "Yes, Weyrwoman," and stepped across the threshold, putting his hands behind his back.

"Please, have a seat," she said as she unfolded the hide. "Would you like water or juice or something to eat?" As she waited for the answer, her eyes scanned the note. A Candidate was demanding to be sent home. The young man was sitting in T'mahl's office, nearly hysterical with homesickness. **Poor kid,** she thought, understanding all too well how not all who were Searched could really find a place for themselves in the strange culture of the Weyr after the intoxicating excitement of dragons faded into reality.

"Oh, no, Weyrwoman, I'm fine," Aluka said. He wasn't thirsty, and dinnertime was close enough. Not to mention putting out the Weyrwoman was a bad idea. He looked around for an appropriate place to sit, biting his lip to keep from whistling. This place was huge. No wonder so many girls were clamoring for gold, if they got perks like this. It made him feel like a real hick. Okay, he was from a backwater Hold, but he had never had a problem with feeling like a hick before. He hoped Hygalia would hurry up and send him off.

"Well, please, have a seat at least. I promise, the sofa is quite comfortable," she said as she walked over to her desk. "I will need you to take a reply to the Weyrlingmaster Second." **Please ask T'mahl whether or not the young man in question might possibly change his mind if he had a night to think it over,** she silently asked her gold as she flipped open the top to find a hide.

}:The boy insists to go. He does not want to stay in the Weyr.:{ The gold added with a mental grumble, }:I don't think he's worthy of one of my eggs anyway.:{

**What are you, a Searchrider now?** Hygalia asked, suppressing the urge to snort. **Ask T'mahl if there is any possibility the young man has been bullied or threatened in any way since coming.** "So, what's your name, Candidate?" she asked to cover the silence while she waited for an answer.

The redhead sat down on the sofa, close to the edge of the cushion, boot soles flat on the ground and hands on his knees. "My name is Aluka, formerly of Bex Hold," he said. "It is a tiny place just barely in the fringes of Dragonsfall's protectorate." He tried to retain the formal tone, but the loathing for his place of birth crept around the edges. A Turn of freedom within the Weyr, and he hadn't stopped hating Bex and most of the people in it. He wasn't sure if he ever would, or if it would at least fade into intense dislike.

}:He just wants to go home. And if he does not want one of my eggs, then I think he should go home.:{ Genith left no doubt how she felt about those who would snub one of her beautiful babies.

**Has he seen a mindhealer? Perhaps it's just a case of temporary homesickness and he'll feel better after a chat with someone.** Despite her gold's muttering, Hygalia hated to lose a potential Candidate unless it was absolutely necessary. "How do you like the Weyr?" she asked.

Unknowingly contrasting the drama, Aluka said firmly, "Being here is one of the best things to ever happen to me. If I could have, I would have arrived a lot sooner. I don't even care if I don't Impress: I'll be glad to stay for the rest of my life."

"Of course you'd be welcome to, whether you Impress or not," Hygalia assured him before her eyes clouded over once more.

Her lifemate informed her there was nothing more that could be done. The boy wanted to go home, and T'mahl recommended it happen as soon as possible.

It couldn't be helped. With a sigh, the Weyrwoman began to write. She might be able to communicate silently with T'mahl, but there had to be some tangible record of her acceptance. "How long have you been here?" she asked as her hand flew across the hide.

"About a Turn now, Weyrwoman," Aluka answered in mild discomfort, a finger starting to tap out the beat to one of his compositions on his knee. How long was this going to take? He flicked a glance at Hygalia to see if he could get a clue, but found he was unable to read her face or eyes. She seemed guarded, somehow. Why? Ah, it was none of his business. "How long have you been here, if I might ask?" His voice was starting to sound a little stilted. He hadn't done this much mimicry in a while; he was a bit out of practice. The redhead cleared his throat, hoping that would help. It was stupid, but if he slipped up and reverted to his usual accent in front of the Weyrwoman, he would be pretty embarrassed. Again, stupid, but it was how he felt.

Her hand stilled for the briefest of moments as her eyes flicked up his, a slightly amused quirk to her lips. Truly? He didn't know? "Just a few months longer than you, I believe," she said, trying to hide her smile as her eyes turned back to the task at hand. "You don't pay much attention to politics, I take it?"

"Oh, shards no," Aluka laughed. "I've had more important things to worry about all my life." Like who would be stupid enough to pick a fight with him this time, how many bottles of wine his mother had hoarded and he would have to get rid of, and how on Pern he was going to keep his sanity in Bex. "I don't plan on ever giving politics more importance than they have. If people can handle that messy business, more power to them, but I'm not going to try." Should he be so open with the Weyrwoman?

"I suppose it's not for everyone," Hygalia said as she signed her name across the bottom of the page. "Many people choose to remain ignorant of politics, despite the fact that it rules where you sleep, where you can go, what you can and cannot do, and what you eat. That's one of the amazing attributes about politics: It rules you life whether you pay attention to it or not. So I guess you can either be the one making the politics, or just the one enslaved by it." She used a blotter to pick up any excess ink.

Aluka rolled his eyes and stood up. Enslaved? Seriously? Was that how she felt about it? Was it because she was a ranker? "That's not what I meant in the least," he said, unable to keep some exasperation out of his tone. "I'm simply not going to get involved in them if I can help it, and I'm certain I can." Impress low enough, or rank low enough, and one wasn't really allowed into politics anyway. Certainly, you got a vote, but still not a lot of sway.

It was worrisome if the Weyrwoman felt enslaved by politics, though. It made him wonder if she was regretting Impressing, though that seemed silly.

She wasn't phased in the least by his opinion of politics. To each their own. "I'm sure it's quite easy to do. Now," she said, rolling the message and tying a string around it to hold it closed, "if you don't mind, please take this reply back to the Weyrlingmaster Second."

He did mind, but he walked over and took the message anyway. "Yes, Weyrwoman," he said, and turned to go back to the door. Then something made him turn back. "Is everything all right?" Well, that was a stupid question. Of course she was. Right?

Hygalia gave him one of her most assuring smiles. "All is as it should be." She gave him a nod that both thanked and dismissed him. Her beer had by the time grown tepid, and she might only get a chapter of reading in before falling asleep, but hopefully _something_ of her evening could be salvaged.

Aluka tried to read her one more time, then gave up. "If you say so," he said. "I'll get this to T'mahl right away. Goodnight." He walked out, closing the door behind him, and immediately had a coughing fit. "Jays, I'm def'nitely not doin' that again for a while," he muttered in his natural voice, rubbing his neck. "Hopefully I won' haveta run anythin' back."

Last updated on the June 18th 2013

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Don't Shoot the Messenger