Zahava left a note. (Vignette)
N'thei woke some time before dawn in a room dark and unfamiliar, in a cold bed. His mind was a wreck, and the first thing it did was lash out for Wyaeth in a way that he would have kicked himself for a turn ago, in a way that Nathein would never have tolerated. Groggily, the bronze answered; << I'm here. >> Reassured if no less disoriented, the bronzerider stared into the darkness as the prior evening distilled into memory.
Like recalling a dream, fragments spilled back, at first of the other bronzerider-- His name started with a V? But there were two of them with a V. Then a glimpse of the girl, something blurred in green and blonde, rain and blood, the same foreign-feeling lust he'd felt at Aleith's Flight, only it didn't end in the violent frustration that had him wishing he would have just choked A'son to death and ended the arguments once and for all. He pulled away from that line of thought with a rush of remembrance; Wyaeth won.
<< Damn right I did. Just like you to forget, ain't it? >> But the bronze was weary and sated and unwilling to argue, shared the warmth of his rest with his rider in a placating way. Ciath was still with him, and he was so comfortable.
Ciath was still with him, but where was...?
Quietly, afraid he might wake Zahava, still blind in the dark and only vaguely gnawed at that he had no feeling of warmth or presence from the goldrider he expected to be right beside him, N'thei slipped to the edge of the bed and reached for a glowbasket, fumbling in the darkness. His hand struck wicker, and he peeked open the lid, sending a shaft of light across the black room, across the empty bed. The light dashed across the abandoned pillow, tripped over a fold in the sheets where her body had been, fell off the edge of the bed, and just barely managed to grab the fringe of the note on the far bedside table before being swallowed up by the prevailing darkness. Dumbstruck, N'thei opened the lid entirely, squinted hard against the light after so much darkness, and dove across the bed to catch the note by the edge.
Dear Bronzerider:
It was like waking up from a pleasant but confusing dream to a kick in the face. "Bronzerider?" he muttered into the darkness. Disbelieving, he stared at the address with bleary eyes. As if it wasn't bad enough to wake up alone in the dark in a weyr he didn't even recognize after a Flight he hadn't really planned to attend at a Weyr where he didn't even live... Bronzerider?
<< Zahava dunno your name. Damn shame, that. >> Wyaeth really knew how to kick a guy when he was down, and the crackle of his amusement was like fire to gunpowder.
N'thei crumpled the note into his hand, balling the whole of it up into his fist and making the blurred letters even more unreadable in his fingers. Pulling on his pants, he shoved the rumpled article deep down in his pocket and cast around for a while until he found the rest of his clothes, having an unfairly difficult time locating his socks, which turned out to have been on his feet the whole time. The sum of this time was likewise spent rousing Wyaeth, who was understandably reluctant to leave his comfort and even more reluctant to awaken Ciath in the process. Had N'thei been a little less stung, he might have taken a pause to marvel at Wyaeth having any sense of accountability to anyone else ever, but he was lit.
Dressed, N'thei swung out into the dark ledge; moments later, he and Wyaeth left Fort Weyr for the blackness between.
Like recalling a dream, fragments spilled back, at first of the other bronzerider-- His name started with a V? But there were two of them with a V. Then a glimpse of the girl, something blurred in green and blonde, rain and blood, the same foreign-feeling lust he'd felt at Aleith's Flight, only it didn't end in the violent frustration that had him wishing he would have just choked A'son to death and ended the arguments once and for all. He pulled away from that line of thought with a rush of remembrance; Wyaeth won.
<< Damn right I did. Just like you to forget, ain't it? >> But the bronze was weary and sated and unwilling to argue, shared the warmth of his rest with his rider in a placating way. Ciath was still with him, and he was so comfortable.
Ciath was still with him, but where was...?
Quietly, afraid he might wake Zahava, still blind in the dark and only vaguely gnawed at that he had no feeling of warmth or presence from the goldrider he expected to be right beside him, N'thei slipped to the edge of the bed and reached for a glowbasket, fumbling in the darkness. His hand struck wicker, and he peeked open the lid, sending a shaft of light across the black room, across the empty bed. The light dashed across the abandoned pillow, tripped over a fold in the sheets where her body had been, fell off the edge of the bed, and just barely managed to grab the fringe of the note on the far bedside table before being swallowed up by the prevailing darkness. Dumbstruck, N'thei opened the lid entirely, squinted hard against the light after so much darkness, and dove across the bed to catch the note by the edge.
Dear Bronzerider:
It was like waking up from a pleasant but confusing dream to a kick in the face. "Bronzerider?" he muttered into the darkness. Disbelieving, he stared at the address with bleary eyes. As if it wasn't bad enough to wake up alone in the dark in a weyr he didn't even recognize after a Flight he hadn't really planned to attend at a Weyr where he didn't even live... Bronzerider?
<< Zahava dunno your name. Damn shame, that. >> Wyaeth really knew how to kick a guy when he was down, and the crackle of his amusement was like fire to gunpowder.
N'thei crumpled the note into his hand, balling the whole of it up into his fist and making the blurred letters even more unreadable in his fingers. Pulling on his pants, he shoved the rumpled article deep down in his pocket and cast around for a while until he found the rest of his clothes, having an unfairly difficult time locating his socks, which turned out to have been on his feet the whole time. The sum of this time was likewise spent rousing Wyaeth, who was understandably reluctant to leave his comfort and even more reluctant to awaken Ciath in the process. Had N'thei been a little less stung, he might have taken a pause to marvel at Wyaeth having any sense of accountability to anyone else ever, but he was lit.
Dressed, N'thei swung out into the dark ledge; moments later, he and Wyaeth left Fort Weyr for the blackness between.