[Vignette] Motivate Me
E'sere set no destination; Morelenth chose a clearing large enough for him to land in, by a small spring of water he thought might make E'sere's throbbing jaw feel better. But E'sere only slid bonelessly to the ground and sat there, and Morelenth had to move himself to his rider's side, curling up around him with his cheek pressed to the man's leg, muzzle against his hip. Like this, they sat a long time--hours, perhaps--in silence.
<< I don't understand how Casterlanth could support this, >> Morelenth finally said, his voice quiet. There was no response. He continued after an awkward pause, << We're dragons. We're supposed to be honorable, supposed to be above this type of behavior. I could never-->> He broke off again. More silence.
<< I see, now, why you have to kill him. >>
E'sere finally looked around, fixing the bronze with an intent stare.
<< You're done things, E'sere, I don't agree with, >> Morelenth continued after a moment, still muted in voice and the touch of his mind. << But you've never killed anyone, or tortured them--certainly not another rider. I... I want to speak to Casterlanth, before he dies. But he will die, if I must do it myself. >>
"He's mine," E'sere finally spoke aloud, his voice still a threatening hiss. He said no more, however, and Morelenth could not reach his thoughts.
<< E'sere, you're shutting me out again, >> he said, hurt, upset, insistant. << Don't push me away--please. I'm your dragon. Let me bear this with you. >> Quieter still, a whisper: << Please, E'sere. >>
Morelenth flinched when E'sere, after another moment of angry resistance, relinquished some of his tight control on his thoughts, allowing emotions to roil over the bronze. Morelenth said nothing while he sifted through those feelings. Then:
<< You aren't him, E'sere. >> The dragon pressed his cheek more firmly against E'sere's thigh, warm and solid mentally and physically.
<< You aren't him, >> he repeated. << Don't make yourself into him now--not even for her sake. If she would have defended him in your place, if she would not--it doesn't matter any more, E'sere. She has chosen her side; now we must me on, past that. I know... You want her to care about you, but there are more important things at work here than her relationship to you. >>
He paused to study his rider again, but E'sere once more had retreated within himself, detached. Morelenth pressed on doggedly now, however.
<< You have to protect these people, E'sere. No one else can. Vellath's has vision, dream, idea--but he can't protect them; he sends them into foolish dangers. Aivey's can't protect them; he doesn't care if they--if you--live or die, so long as you're useful to him. >> Morelenth had taken in recent days to calling Derek "Aivey's," as he would call a rider their dragon's.
<< But you, E'sere, >> he continued now, passionately, << You can protect them. You're strong enough to do that. You're the only one who has ties to the islands and the Reaches. You're the only one that can save them both. But you have to make a choice to do so, E'sere. You're trying to be opportunistic, but--. There is right, and there is wrong. Whichever is best for you, its rightness or wrongness does not change. >> He hesitated a moment then, again trying to guage some reaction before he continued.
<< You can't work for Aivey's now, and change sides later, to serve the ones back home. They're corrupted, they're tainted; and you have to fix that instead. You can't do that by becoming one of them. This, E'sere--this is your chance to get out of their shadows--Hirth's, Casterlanth's, Vasyath's. You can be greater than all of them. >> Another pause. Quieter:
<< You can be their hero, E'sere. All of theirs, all of Pern's. And what do you gain, if you give that up? Death, unhappiness--being Weyrleader isn't going to make you happy, E'sere. And even if you were, even if it did, you wouldn't leave any legacy: only a footnote in the history books. 'E'sere was Weyrleader after these, but he did nothing they did not do first.' Do you want that? >> Morelenth stared at the man; by then, E'sere was watching him in return, equally intently, but blank-expressioned.
<< So let's fight for them, E'sere. We might lose, we might die; but they'll remember us still. They'll fight in our names, and change things in our names. If you'll just--let go, of her--of everything she taught you--we'll start over. It's not too late for that. >>
"You make good speeches," E'sere finally said, with a low and bitter laugh.
<< I had the best teacher, >> Morelenth answered wryly.
E'sere smiled unhappily, reaching one hand out to rub over the bronze's muzzle. "They're all mine," he said, and though his voice didn't lilt the question, Morelenth could feel it again, hovering in the air behind those words.
<< They're all yours, >> he said, comforting, << if you'll keep them. >>
E'sere pushed himself carefully to his feet, stiff and sore from so many long hours tensed. He leaned a moment against the bronze and then straightened, raking a hand through his hair absently, calm again.
<< If you'd get that cut, you'd not have to do that, >> Morelenth noted, pushing his nose into the small of the man's back gently. It brought a truer smile from E'sere as he pushed the dragon's head away again.
"One thing at a time," he answered. "I'll think about it." And those words, Morelenth knew, encompassed more than the growing shagginess of his hair.
"Let's go home," E'sere said then, sliding up between the bronze's neckridges again, settling himself comfortably. Morelenth lingered a moment longer, then pushed himself airborne, great wings spreading to carry them back.
<< I don't understand how Casterlanth could support this, >> Morelenth finally said, his voice quiet. There was no response. He continued after an awkward pause, << We're dragons. We're supposed to be honorable, supposed to be above this type of behavior. I could never-->> He broke off again. More silence.
<< I see, now, why you have to kill him. >>
E'sere finally looked around, fixing the bronze with an intent stare.
<< You're done things, E'sere, I don't agree with, >> Morelenth continued after a moment, still muted in voice and the touch of his mind. << But you've never killed anyone, or tortured them--certainly not another rider. I... I want to speak to Casterlanth, before he dies. But he will die, if I must do it myself. >>
"He's mine," E'sere finally spoke aloud, his voice still a threatening hiss. He said no more, however, and Morelenth could not reach his thoughts.
<< E'sere, you're shutting me out again, >> he said, hurt, upset, insistant. << Don't push me away--please. I'm your dragon. Let me bear this with you. >> Quieter still, a whisper: << Please, E'sere. >>
Morelenth flinched when E'sere, after another moment of angry resistance, relinquished some of his tight control on his thoughts, allowing emotions to roil over the bronze. Morelenth said nothing while he sifted through those feelings. Then:
<< You aren't him, E'sere. >> The dragon pressed his cheek more firmly against E'sere's thigh, warm and solid mentally and physically.
<< You aren't him, >> he repeated. << Don't make yourself into him now--not even for her sake. If she would have defended him in your place, if she would not--it doesn't matter any more, E'sere. She has chosen her side; now we must me on, past that. I know... You want her to care about you, but there are more important things at work here than her relationship to you. >>
He paused to study his rider again, but E'sere once more had retreated within himself, detached. Morelenth pressed on doggedly now, however.
<< You have to protect these people, E'sere. No one else can. Vellath's has vision, dream, idea--but he can't protect them; he sends them into foolish dangers. Aivey's can't protect them; he doesn't care if they--if you--live or die, so long as you're useful to him. >> Morelenth had taken in recent days to calling Derek "Aivey's," as he would call a rider their dragon's.
<< But you, E'sere, >> he continued now, passionately, << You can protect them. You're strong enough to do that. You're the only one who has ties to the islands and the Reaches. You're the only one that can save them both. But you have to make a choice to do so, E'sere. You're trying to be opportunistic, but--. There is right, and there is wrong. Whichever is best for you, its rightness or wrongness does not change. >> He hesitated a moment then, again trying to guage some reaction before he continued.
<< You can't work for Aivey's now, and change sides later, to serve the ones back home. They're corrupted, they're tainted; and you have to fix that instead. You can't do that by becoming one of them. This, E'sere--this is your chance to get out of their shadows--Hirth's, Casterlanth's, Vasyath's. You can be greater than all of them. >> Another pause. Quieter:
<< You can be their hero, E'sere. All of theirs, all of Pern's. And what do you gain, if you give that up? Death, unhappiness--being Weyrleader isn't going to make you happy, E'sere. And even if you were, even if it did, you wouldn't leave any legacy: only a footnote in the history books. 'E'sere was Weyrleader after these, but he did nothing they did not do first.' Do you want that? >> Morelenth stared at the man; by then, E'sere was watching him in return, equally intently, but blank-expressioned.
<< So let's fight for them, E'sere. We might lose, we might die; but they'll remember us still. They'll fight in our names, and change things in our names. If you'll just--let go, of her--of everything she taught you--we'll start over. It's not too late for that. >>
"You make good speeches," E'sere finally said, with a low and bitter laugh.
<< I had the best teacher, >> Morelenth answered wryly.
E'sere smiled unhappily, reaching one hand out to rub over the bronze's muzzle. "They're all mine," he said, and though his voice didn't lilt the question, Morelenth could feel it again, hovering in the air behind those words.
<< They're all yours, >> he said, comforting, << if you'll keep them. >>
E'sere pushed himself carefully to his feet, stiff and sore from so many long hours tensed. He leaned a moment against the bronze and then straightened, raking a hand through his hair absently, calm again.
<< If you'd get that cut, you'd not have to do that, >> Morelenth noted, pushing his nose into the small of the man's back gently. It brought a truer smile from E'sere as he pushed the dragon's head away again.
"One thing at a time," he answered. "I'll think about it." And those words, Morelenth knew, encompassed more than the growing shagginess of his hair.
"Let's go home," E'sere said then, sliding up between the bronze's neckridges again, settling himself comfortably. Morelenth lingered a moment longer, then pushed himself airborne, great wings spreading to carry them back.