[ORP] Oh Well, I Never Was There Ever A Dragon So Clever

[The_Muffin_Puppy]

Farewell Life

The infirmary was dark. A’zam shifted his weight and looked down at the sleeping face of his dragon. Conjusquath had always been so bright. He’d exploded into this world full of colour, excitement and wonder. Now it looked like the colour had seeped out of him and into the ground. His bright blue hide turning a dull gray, the pale blue on his face losing almost all trace of colour. Had A’zam not welcomed the vibrant dragon into the world himself, it would be hard to rationalise the blue that had hatched with the dragon that lay before him. Most weyrlings said that, but it was in relation to the growth of their dragons. Conjusquath had grown, his shoulder was now higher than A’zam’s head, but the plague had robbed him of any muscle gain. The young blue’s body tried to grow, even as the sickness ate away at him, leaving a skeletal frame in its wake.

The young man’s eyes roamed over his dragon. The sharp angles of his chest and forelimbs. The lack of muscle in his shoulders. His clutchmates had taken to the air for the first time this month. Conjusquath had been so eager to fly, but now he would never get the chance. The blue had wanted to take part in the rodeo, but there had been no way his frail frame would have been able to handle the strain. Not that it mattered. A’zam hadn’t been assigned a set of straps. There had been no point, he knew it. They all knew it. There had been hope a month ago. That he would recover. Like Cochith and Montezumalth. That he would overcome it, like his siblings had proved possible. Now though. They all knew.

Sitting in the dark infirmary, listening to the rasping breaths of his dragon, A’zam knew.

Do you regret it?

Not for a moment. A’zam replied instantly, reaching out to stroke the blue’s face. Large, dull, eyes stared back at him. I have lived more vibrantly with you than in my twenty-two turns without you. I would rather I had never been born, than live a life without you in it. He had waited so long as a candidate. Been rejected so many times. Even now though, it had been worth it. A’zam wished he could go back, to tell his younger self of the wonderful times that were ahead of him. Of this wonderous mind that would love him so completely. That he would love more than life itself.

A rasping sigh was the only reply he heard in the dark, but inside he could feel it. Not once did Conjusquath’s love ever dim. Even as his muscles wasted and his hide dulled, the love between them burned as brightly as ever. They sat in the darkness, A’zam quietly holding Conjusquath’s head in his lap. The coughing wasn’t as bad as it had been. Unfortunately for them, that didn’t mean recovery. Conjusquath may not be choking like other dragon’s had, but his body was drained. Too much had been taken by the sickness for his body to heal. It was only a matter of time before it started to shut down.

A’zam didn’t know how much time passed in the darkness, but soon the soft blue light of morning was filtering into the infirmary. Beneath his hands, Conjusquath stirred. Slowly the blue lifted his head, looking toward the source of the light.

Will you watch the sunrise with me, mine?

Of course I will.

Their progress outside was slow. They were in the higher levels of the infirmary. Able to look out over the edge of the Weyr. Soft orange crept across the sky as the pair stood on the ledge. The morning was calm, a gentle summer breeze drifting across the mountains. Mist hung in the bowl, waiting for the heat of the sun to brush it away. Conjusquath looked out across it all. His eyes settling on the weyrling barracks, where he could feel the minds of his siblings beginning to stir. Carefully, unusually quietly for the blue, he reached out and brushed their minds with his own. Not enough to wake them, but enough to leave a gentle impression.

Beside him A’zam watched colours rise over the horizon. They didn’t need to discuss it. So interwoven were their minds that they knew what was next. There had been many nights lying together in the darkness for them to come to terms with it. Without a word, Conjusquath slowly knelt. A’zam climbing onto his back just as silently.

The blue stood and he could already feel his muscles complaining. It wouldn’t be long. He didn’t need long. Slowly the blue turned his head and locked eyes with his rider. Adoration and love flowed between the two.

Are you ready to see my greatest trick?

Pushing off the ledge it was more a controlled fall than flight. The blue wasn’t strong enough, and his wings only barely managed to keep it from being a straight plummet. Still it brought him happiness. Rooted in each other’s mind they shared the sensation. The wind stinging A’zam’s face. The feel of each air current caressing Conjusquath’s aching wings.

I love you, A'zam.
I love you, Conjusquath.

Moments later the mournful keen of dragons filled the Weyr, just as the first rays of run struck the bowl.


((You're welcome to post your characters' reacting to these characters' deaths. Feel free to create background relationships with the characters as you see fit.))  

[Earisa]

The last two months had gone by in a quickly growing blur of green. Lianly had never dreamed of being a Rider like many children did, and after three failures to Impress had given up hope. Then Falxath literally jumped into her arms at the speed of a spooked runnerbeast, and since that moment there wasn't a day that went by that she felt like she wasn't being dragged along by her dragon. Lucky for her it was more a mental feeling then a physical one most days.

The sun was just rising and the young woman was still asleep in her weyrling bunk, jerked awake as the air vibrated with the sharp keening of dragons. Tears were already leaking from her eyes before she realized one of the voices in the mournful chorus was her own green right beside her. It wasn't the first time she had heard this horrible sound, and knew what it meant. It couldn't have been four months since young bronze Swouth had died tragically in a flying accident.

Who was it? she asked Falxath, trying to wipe away the tears running down her face.

Conjusquath

Everyone knew of poor blue Conjusquath. Without a confirmed plague death in about two Turns everyone was starting to breath easier, that maybe the worst behind them and they could move on. Now they worried how many others of his clutch may follow. When gold Julith's clutch hatched it had been such a happy event, the biggest hatching the north thought they may ever see again. Lianly however had caught a bad cold and been deemed too ill to travel to Igen for the hatching, but she had seen the small rainbow flood of happy Weyrlings brought back.

Vision blurred with stinging tears, Lianly slipped out of bed and hugged her dragon fiercely close. She was confused as to why it hurt so bad, she didn't think she knew A’zam more then just in passing. They had been Candidates together for a brief time, and caring for his dragon had consumed the last six months of his time. It was silly to fear that Falxath would share the blue's fate, they were sure all the dragons left in the North were immune. Well... except Julith's clutch. But what if they weren't? What if they were just resitant? They thought the Plague was gone!

Calm. We are here, we are together, I will not leave you. Falxath had stopped her keening and wrapped herself as tightly around her rider as she could, for her comfort and her own. Blue Keloc landed on Lianly's shoulder, joining the huddle to rub his head against the woman's cheek with sad chirps.

You are right, Falxath. We are here.  

[TawnyAngel]

As the cries of grief rang out through the Weyr D'lana laid down her quill and pinched the bridge of her nose. Conjusquath?

Liarth sent his rider a feeling of uncharacteristically sombre acknowledgement from where he sat on his ledge, keening for the young life cut short.

We knew we'd lose some of them. This was as much said to herself as to her dragon, and she tried to use that knowledge to harden her heart but... They deserved better. They deserved a life. But there had been nothing she could do for them, nothing anyone could do for them, and nothing anyone could do for their siblings. Cochith had sickened, and Montezumalth too, but they had recovered and she'd almost allowed herself to start believing that they would all be so fortunate.

Silly.

D'lana dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, swallowed down any more tears, and rose to her feet; there were things that ought to be done, and she ought to be seen doing them.