Who

R'xim

What

When one chapter ends, another begins.

When

It is the sixteenth day of the fourth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Ground weyrs, High Reaches Weyr

OOC Date 22 Feb 2018 05:00

 

rxim031.jpg

Let's go home.



Ground Weyrs

Once a mere overhang in the bowl wall, this arched stone enclave was deepened eons past to provide shelter for injured dragons and their riders. Once past the bowl's entrance, the cavern widens and climbs dramatically. The craggy walls loom high to dwarf rider and dragon alike, darkening slowly towards the back, ending at the large doors of the infirmary and the dragon-sized tunnel leading to the enclosed, inner ground weyrs. Off to the right is the dragonhealers' enclave with its supplies and small handful of dragon couches.


Ten Turns ago…

“Don’t.” He’s not giving up. “I know what this is about, Cate. I heard about you and Southern.” R’xim moves closer again and reaches out for her shoulder, stopping her one last time with both hands for emphasis that he wants her to stay with him. To look at him, to talk to him. But it’s clear that she wants nothing to do with it. Catryn pulls, jerking her shoulder from underneath his grasp and flashing him a look that says it all: stay away. How can he? She’s been a rock in his life, something constant and beautiful. A montage of memories flash through his mind: He and Catryn at Tillek, he and Catryn at a formal Gather, he and Catryn fishing, he and Catryn in the archives, he and Catryn in the water with Shalnth. Her face, her blonde hair, that blue dress she wears in the summer, her smile… Her. It all rushes into his being, tugging at his chest and pulling at the pit of his stomach. There’s an ache. A wound, cut deep and infected with her memory and scent. Lavender. Her. She’s walking away and there’s nothing he can do. All he can do is watch. So, he does. He relents. R’xim’s arms drop to his sides and he stands in the middle of the Bazaar before calling out to her one last time: “He can’t love you like I can, Catryn.”

Present day.

Shalnth’s sides expand against his sturdy leather straps and then return to normal size as he exhales a slightly impatient breath. This is taking far too long in his opinion. They should be airborne by now and perhaps even home on their ledge at Igen. It’s only three heart beats away, after all. The bronze swings his wedge shaped head toward the guest weyr that has been his roost for the past few months at High Reaches as he waits oh so patiently for his lifemate to finish whatever he’s doing. Isn’t he packed up yet?

« The wind is steady and south bound. Perfect conditions for flight. »

R’xim stands inside the spartan style guest weyr with one missive in his flight jacket’s inside pocket and another unrolled and held open with both hands. His blue eyes scan the writing one last time as he’s not quite ready to commit it to seal. He can sense Shalnth’s impatience while he stands there, wavering. He should’ve written and hand delivered this letter to her a long, long time ago.

« You haven’t spoken to her in a long time, and she might not want to speak to you when you seek her out. »

Leather creaks when R’xim moves his arms to roll the hide. His hands make quick work of the task and he slips the missive into that inside pocket of his jacket. Straightening, he gives the weyr one last visual sweep to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything when F’dan catches his eye again — his old friend has been a regular visitor this entire visit. Standing near the entryway is his best friend and clutchmate, ready to see him off on his trip back to the desert.

R’xim’s expression softens and he even cracks a rare smile at the sight of his friend. “Well, it’s been fun.” F’dan doesn’t say anything, per usual. He just returns a half smirk and dips in chin in farewell like he always used to do whenever they’d pass by each other. Somehow Rix always knew that whenever they nodded at one another, they’d see eachother again — it was like some unspoken language they had. A deeply rooted knowing.

Drawing in a long, slow breath, R’xim closes his eyes briefly and recollects the highlights of this stay at the Weyr of his Impression. He had some good laughs with F’dan over some of the predicaments they got themselves into during their youth, and he also had a soul cleansing cry as he mourned all of the losses in his life. But, most importantly, he got to feel again.

“Thanks.” he says, opening his eyes at the empty archway.

Maybe now R’xim has finally forgiven himself for the mistakes he’s made, or perhaps he’s made peace with the inner demons kept tethered on their short chains deep inside his being. Because they are still very much present. Just… better kept. His sense of control has strengthened and he’s come to terms with the things that he simply can’t change — his past being the one thing that has restrained him from moving forward.

F’dan is gone now. Catryn is gone as well, yet still alive and able to listen to his confession and apology should she have any desire to give him the time of day again. He’ll never know unless he makes the first move in her direction to do just that. And perhaps when he’s finished making peace with that portion of his past he can be free to move forward with someone new.

« Let’s go home. »

Change waits for them at Igen. With the letters secured inside his jacket, R’xim exits the guest weyr with a profound sense of closure now that some of the demons of his past have been dealt with. Shalnth is on the receiving end of an affectionate pat and Rix grabs hold of the straps to take his place ‘tween familiar neckridges. The wind gusts and sweeps across the stone ledge as bronzen crawls scrape into the precipice, leg muscles bunching and launching out into the crisp northern air.

Black… blacker… blackest. Three heart beats and they are home amidst the dry desert air.

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