==== October 13th, 2013
==== Renalde
==== Violence births a small friend for Southern's headman.

Who Renalde
What Violence births a small friend for Southern's headman.
When [backdated] Approximately A turn and three months before thread
Where Southern Beach


A Southern Beach

Wind sweeps the swiftly cooling sands of the southern beaches, small granules skipping underfoot till they meet the unyielding waters of the ocean. Waves pull at the sands, gleefully eating at the shore, whispering quiet promises the wicked waters never could keep of what the shore could be with just a little more wear.

Through this walks a tall blond man, ice blue eyes staring outward into the pale darkness lit only by a full moon. Alone in his thoughts he walks, sand clinging to his perfectly cared for shoes. Moonlight tracks his footfalls, the small indentions casting pits of darkness that trail behind him like an extended shadow, quietly mocking the thin outline that reaches upwards onto the pearly white sands as silent as the man who casts it.

Movement off to the side draws his attention, and Renalde turns towards it, wary of what rises from the southern forests. But it is not the silent trees that move, but a pile of sand. Sudden humming fills the air as brilliant jeweled tones of firelizards burst onto the scene above the movement, joyous welcoming strains issuing from a clear dozen throats. Renalde steps backwards, eyes watching the spectacle dance in the air above the sand. The joy pulls a faint smile from the stoic headman as the pile of sand shivers again. The queen lands, cooing welcome to the little ones about to break shell.

Without warning the coo turns to shrieks of anger as dark shapes attack the shivering pile, their ferociousnes a savage counter melody to the welcoming tune. The lizards attack, sharp claws ripping at tunnel snake flesh, their well coordinated attack driving back the snakes who pour in from one side.

Away from this.activity Renalde watches as nature battles itself before his eyes. His eyes are fixed on the queen, her talons leaving long slashes in the skin of that which attacks her children. The snakes are harried, driven back, but the damage is done. Pitiful remains litter the once serene sands.

Renalde steps forward, ignored for now in favor of the grater threat by the firelizard fair. Only a few shells remain unshattered. Thin bodies twitch upon the sands. Renalde shakes his head and turns his feet away, the ice melting at the sight of the mangled babies. Right by his foot one of the few eggs left shivers, bursting open to reveal a keening gold lizard, intent on life. The small specimen of beauty falls onto his shoe, hunger evident in her high pitched wails.

A stronger man then Renalde may have been able to ignore the hunger and pain in the little voice. For his part the headman scoops up the gold, cradling it softly in one elegant hand. "You will live tonight little one, when many of your peers have fallen." His voice is a quiet whisper. The Keening gets louder as needle like claws hook themselves into his perfectly cleaned sleeve.

The adult lizards return, swooping from between to face this newest threat to their family. Renalde ducks their sharp claws, moving swiftly away, the little one cradled still in his hand. The flock gives up soon enough, returning to the pitiful few who survive the horror if the night. Bitterness Keens again from his hand as blood Wells up from sharp teeth. "Tatch, little one, here, eat this." The rebuke is gentle as Renalde pulls some hard jerkey from his pocket. "You'll get more soon enough."

Sure footsteps retrace the dark line of footsteps as they curve upwards, soon enough turning into the rough gravel of the weyr trail. The jerkey consumed, the small beauty begins to cry again, the whirling of her eyes demanding food as she shatters the silence of the night with her silver pure voice of demands. Renalde's pace quickens till it is no longer the sure pace of the headman, but a run. Few enough are awake at this hour to see the man drop his dignity enough to run.

The door is thrust open to the kitchen, and the only staff on task, one rather plump muddled aged man jumps. He says nothing as Renalde moves though his area, eyes wide in confusion at the uncharacteristic entrance and demeanor. Renalde nods once to him, then disappears downwards into the darkness of the cold storage.

Little need is there for the headman to bring a light, his sure footsteps carrying him without error across the darkened area. A rustle can be heard as he flicks open a basket. The sounds of the baby end suddenly, as the sound of ravenous eating slice the darkness with quiet murmurs.

Only now, with the little one distracted does Renalde move to flick the latch of the glowbasket, light dancing out to feed the shadows of the room. A chair used by lazy choppers is pulled up and Renalde folds himself into it, the small gold still cuddled in his hand.

"It is a hard life you have been born into little one. I've little use for one such as you, beautiful as you may be." For she is a beauty. In the light of the glows the man examines her carefully. Bold golden tones ranging from the darkest of molten metal to the lightest of silver gold swirl together, causing a pattern which deceives the eye and accentuates her languid grace. "You are tied to me now brave heart, but why should you stay? It is little enough I can offer you, even here as headman of this weyr. Would you not rather be free?"

The gold has no answer as she abruptly slips from feeding frenzy into deep sleep. Renalde's eyes have fully melted down, darkening into a deep blue which hides none of his feelings. The carefully manufactured mask is down as he considers the baby curled trustingly in his hands. "My heart cannot be fully yours little one." His voice is low, almost inaudible. "For long have I given it to duty. My son is well set in the North, my wife long gone from this world. Will you have patience while those needs of others is more important than your comfort? For much is left to be done to this place. Walls still crumble in corners, moss threatening it's way to destroy what has been abandoned. Lazy and uncouth layabouts seek an easy living in the south. Only a strong steady hand can push then to work as hard we desperately need them to."

A small wry smile settles onto Renalde's typically dour expression, a single finger running down the length of the tiny creatures neck. "Foolishness of me, you care little for my concerns and worries. You are nature unrestrained, instinct only guides your actions. You will stay or you will not as you choose. My heart you perhsps you may seek, but it will be the food in my hand which will keep you or not." Renalde rises from his chair, the lizard curled protectively in his arms. "Sleep well little one, may your waking tomorrow be more pleasant then your birth into this world."

A free hand cleans up the leavings of the hasty meal, a cloth snatched to clear up and last dribbles. The glow basket is carefully closed, the room again plunged into darkness. The mask of expediency settled again in place Renalde carries his precious burden upwards and out. "Zetas, do make sure the morning staff is aware that the herders…." His voice is clipped and precise, emotion scrubbed as his thoughts and actions return to those of which he came to the South to perform.

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