==== December 16, 2013
==== W'rin
==== W'rin tries to work out his choice to run from the impending leadership flight.

Who W'rin
What W'rin tries to work out his choice to run from the impending leadership flight.
When 5 months and 15 days until the 12th pass.
Where Keroon


Keroon's Guest Quarters
They exist. I swear.

He’d awoken gasping for air, lungs hurting. He'd forced his heartbeat to slow, slipping from the bed as gently as possible to not wake the sleeping woman beside him. The memory of the dream never stayed, but he knew Valiuth’s mind well enough to know he’d let the dragon’s nightmares slip into his subconscious. It was a dangerous combination for the two of them to sleep at the same time. And as thread draws closer the dragon, both awake and asleep, was becoming all the more restless. At times waking the whole weyr with his ramblings.

But soon that won’t be his problem and now as he sat in a chair by the hearth, charts that spread before him like a willing lover – and doing far more to ease the throes of his agitated spirit than a woman ever could, he wondered, once it was no longer his burden, if they still would be able to calm him in the night, if they would still lull him away from immediate reality with their numbing song. Would there be anything left he could lose himself in complete abandon? How long has it been since I wore a wingrider’s knot? Valiuth only tosses fitfully in his sleep, leaving W'rin alone with his desires.

No. The decision was made. For the weyr. Every deed since the bronze had hatched. Except the one. It hadn’t been love, only loneliness finding momentary comfort when it found itself in another’s embrace. Something the both longed for. A wife spurned by an oft wandering husband, and the beast of Whirlwind. But that one indiscretion – against the one he’d sworn his fidelity, against Igen, was costing his weyr more than most could understand. No. He wouldn’t let it. If outed Tirvin could rage, but if W’rin wasn’t a ranker, of any kind, Igen would be safe – er, anyway.

Grasping his head between his hands the man loses himself in the patterns on the parchment, the lucid lines of dragons and names, of potential weather patterns and rider abilities – intoxicating, and he knows it might be the last time.

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