Who

Majel, Dyxath

What

Even with some forethought and careful planning, Majel finds that solitude is difficult to come by.

When

It is afternoon of the twenty-second day of the sixth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Weyrling Barracks, Inner Caverns, Igen Weyr

OOC Date

 

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Inner Caverns

Faded elegance attests to former glory, the soot-covered ceiling sparkling with faint traceries of golden glitter. High, vaulted curves of the smooth limestone wavering whose variant hues of sandy gold and wheaten brown form rising, wave-like patterns that hold the sparkle of silver here and there. A long, wide cavern, this: various arches lend access to other caverns, while the noise of daily activity is often amplified by the natural acoustics of this open space.


Majel craved solitude.


Thirty-nine other weyrling pairs filled the barracks at nearly all hours of the day.


Six of the pairs bunked near her were incredibly chatty.


Three of those pairs snored or talked in their sleep at night.

One blue dragon was indelibly part of her consciousness.

Since he never expressed a particularly overt sense of separation anxiety (truly, they were both so very alike), she reasoned that, as their second month together drew to a close, it was acceptable to begin going short distances without him. Others around her had started to do so, and the weyrlingmasters assured that this was a normal progression of their growth together.

She waited until he had fallen asleep one afternoon, soothing him into slumber with oil rubbed just so into the spots that itched most, smoothing gentle hands over his headknobs and neck as he drifted into a too-warm nap.

Her awareness of him dimmed as the by-now familiar darkness of his mind pressed comfortably toward dreams. With one last, careful glance back, she headed for the weyr proper. At most, she had two hours, perhaps three.


Weaving her way through the people heading to take a very late lunch, she saluted crisply to the riders she passed, purposefully moving through the inner caverns to duck into a small cavern that, at times, functioned as a classroom. It was empty during this time of day, filled with a sense of quiet that encouraged studiousness.

Majel settled herself in one of the chairs well out of sight of the entranceway, tipped her head back and exhaled. Carefully, she edged her perception away from Dyxath’s growing dream, centering her sense of self as she’s often had to do since another joined with her.


Calm descended more deeply over her, although she couldn’t tell where his slumber ended and her concentration began.

She started a mental litany of the material covered in her last harper class, frowning at the occasions where a strong memory did not serve. Those were points she should review later, once she’s reunited with her notes.

Some time later, a subtle pressure between her ears alerted her to Dyxath’s awakening scant seconds before she found herself bowled over with a sense of tumbling.

You must be more cautious, Majel counseled calmly as she got to her feet and sought the nearest exit into the caldera.

Sorry, Majel. Dyxath was a rumpled, sheepish being on awakening, bleary-eyed and tousled in thought. You’re not here, so I thought I could try to help myself to a snack.

The weyrling grimaced as she began jogging toward the training grounds. You knocked our oil vat over again, didn’t you.


A distorted view of the barracks from the floor briefly overtook her senses, startling her into a tripped stride that sent her sprawling. Their oil supply was lying on its side, pooling steadily next to their alcove.

My foot got a little tangled.


So did mine, she replied dryly, taking stock of her newly aching knee and the light abrasion on her elbow.


The discomfort that gnawed at her when he simply contented himself with awaiting her return felt strangely similar to guilt.


She buried it.

There was much to attend to.

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