W'lin, Te'lor


W'lin's farewell party.



It is after midnight of the twenty-sixth day of the sixth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Telgar Weyr

OOC Date 11 Mar 2018 06:00


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"Cheers to Khasvith catching all the tail he can possibly handle!”

“To this cocky bastard,” Te’lor shouted, “that you don’t die out there in the jungle. Cheers to Khasvith catching all the tail he can possibly handle!”

A cheer went up with raised mugs, each person in the cramped weyr paying homage to their soon-to-depart comrade who stood at the center of the assemble of dragonriders. It was a majority wingmates of W’lin’s, having one last drunken rouse before they parted ways. They had been celebrating for hours already, despite their wingleader’s warning that drills would take place as usual on the morn.

“Fuckitall, man.” Te’lor fell back into his chair, rocking precariously for a moment, before he came to rest and settled his hairy forearms on the table. “Can’t believe you’re really going. Who’s going to cry over me when I get my next scar?”

“Learn to fly straight,” W’lin quipped.

“Shit.” Te’lor’s head dropped to the table and snores soon followed.

W’lin laughed as he slouched into the confines of his riding jacket and let his gaze roam around the cavern, at all of the familiar faces.

He had a lot of memories to keep him company in the long nights at Southern to come, when inevitably he’d not be able to sleep.

It was a shame.

He could always come back.

As long as Khasvith didn’t do anything stupid.

What had K’yor told him turns ago?

He racked his bleary, drunken brain until it came to him.

W’lin.. W’lin.. listen to me..

K’yor’s rough hand had fallen on his shoulder and brought him back to the surface, where he could breathe. He’d choked and gagged, but with the older bronzerider’s calming reassurance, got a hold of himself.

“You have to remember who you are. Who are you?”

“I’m W’lin,” he’d answered, confused.

“WHO are YOU?”

“I’m W’lin. I’m Khasvith’s.”

K’yor had canted his head.
“I’m W’lin,” the weyrling stated, stronger, “Khasvith’s.”

“Don’t let him make you forget who you ARE. Don’t let him take over. You are W’LIN. You are KHASVITH’s. You are of TELGAR. You are your father’s SON. Don’t let him take that from you. Do you understand?”

W’lin knew it now, more than ever.

Khasvith was a part of him, but would not consume him.

Summoned from the dark night, the bronze’s gritty voice filled his head, which was already fuzzy with spirits.

« Why are you worried? » He sounded amused.

I’m not worried.

« Lie. »

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