[Vignette] Pathways
Morelenth always found it easier to think when E'sere was asleep. He'd once believed that a dragon's relationship to his rider was symbiotic, but E'sere made him wonder sometimes. The man was too good at shutting parts of himself away, so that even Morelenth couldn't reach them. Morelenth had never been quite so good at that; for E'sere, he was an open book, and he hated that. More than he hated not being able to keep secrets, Morelenth hated feeling like he needed to, just to keep even with E'sere.
"Morelenth's asleep; I hate to wake him," E'sere had told Aivey.
Morelenth had been awake since E'sere first startled awake, kicked by the girl. He'd hid the telling gleam of his eyes under a wing as he watched the unfolding events in silence through E'sere's eyes. He'd known, of course--E'sere had been conscious of Morelenth's wakefulness. He'd lied.
Why? E'sere said whatever he thought was help him most, truth or lie. So obviously, he thought it was better to keep Aivey here, home. Morelenth expected he just wanted to avoid a fight, in case Aivey would be offended if he actually sent her down, even if she had suggested it first--women were fickle like that. And Morelenth had noticed E'sere stepping more warily around her lately. Hadn't he been too kind, too understanding, too sympathetic tonight?
It wasn't enough of an answer, though. E'sere wanted to keep Aivey around, keep her close; Morelenth could understand that. He couldn't fathom why. As he saw it, either E'sere wanted to use her for his own goals--goals that likely didn't match with Derek's--or E'sere wanted her for more... personal reasons. Morelenth couldn't put the word love to his thoughts; he was beginning to suspect, as E'sere long had, it was not an emotion E'sere could produce. Morelenth was also beginning to suspect this fact bothered him far less than it should.
He wondered if he were becoming just as opportunistic, just as selfish, as E'sere. Love was dangerous. It made people do stupid thing, things that would get them hurt, killed. It was all right for E'sere to care about people--enough to protect them--Morelenth wanted that. Hadn't he told E'sere before that that was how they would be great? He still believed that. But he couldn't put away the idea that Aivey would be their downfall no matter what they chose now.
Either she or Derek would kill E'sere if he went against them, or if he hurt her. But if E'sere let himself become too involved, they could use him, hurt him, kill him anyway. Care for the people, just not this one person, Morelenth wanted to plead with E'sere. And now E'sere had made this stupid promise. It was, in theory, a good one: if Aivey were killed and Derek hidden away for safety, their cause was obviously losing, and Morelenth found himself hoping E'sere would keep it, hoping his rider wouldn't abandon this cause just because it was losing.
Morelenth wanted to tell E'sere this, too, but he said nothing, didn't wake the sleeping man. Pushing would do no good; some things, E'sere had to make up his mind on himself. Instead, Morelenth simply reached out, letting his mind twine around E'sere's thoughts, the wall between them perforated by sleep. Happy dreams occupied E'sere's thoughts, images of S'lien and Lexine dead (the thought no longer disturbed Morelenth), himself crowned--something. Morelenth couldn't put a name to this office E'sere's mind had created any more than E'sere himself could, in dream or wakefulness. But it was, perhaps, a good omen, that E'sere's dream-shoulder remained bare of knot while the crowds, Aivey notable at their fore, cheered for him.
Morelenth hoped this was what E'sere had chosen, whether they achieved that goal or not. If they were to die, he wanted to go like this, fighting for right; he didn't wish to be part of something as corrupt as the mainland had become. But he wasn't sure what their path was. The only thing he did know was: E'sere wasn't sure, either.
"Morelenth's asleep; I hate to wake him," E'sere had told Aivey.
Morelenth had been awake since E'sere first startled awake, kicked by the girl. He'd hid the telling gleam of his eyes under a wing as he watched the unfolding events in silence through E'sere's eyes. He'd known, of course--E'sere had been conscious of Morelenth's wakefulness. He'd lied.
Why? E'sere said whatever he thought was help him most, truth or lie. So obviously, he thought it was better to keep Aivey here, home. Morelenth expected he just wanted to avoid a fight, in case Aivey would be offended if he actually sent her down, even if she had suggested it first--women were fickle like that. And Morelenth had noticed E'sere stepping more warily around her lately. Hadn't he been too kind, too understanding, too sympathetic tonight?
It wasn't enough of an answer, though. E'sere wanted to keep Aivey around, keep her close; Morelenth could understand that. He couldn't fathom why. As he saw it, either E'sere wanted to use her for his own goals--goals that likely didn't match with Derek's--or E'sere wanted her for more... personal reasons. Morelenth couldn't put the word love to his thoughts; he was beginning to suspect, as E'sere long had, it was not an emotion E'sere could produce. Morelenth was also beginning to suspect this fact bothered him far less than it should.
He wondered if he were becoming just as opportunistic, just as selfish, as E'sere. Love was dangerous. It made people do stupid thing, things that would get them hurt, killed. It was all right for E'sere to care about people--enough to protect them--Morelenth wanted that. Hadn't he told E'sere before that that was how they would be great? He still believed that. But he couldn't put away the idea that Aivey would be their downfall no matter what they chose now.
Either she or Derek would kill E'sere if he went against them, or if he hurt her. But if E'sere let himself become too involved, they could use him, hurt him, kill him anyway. Care for the people, just not this one person, Morelenth wanted to plead with E'sere. And now E'sere had made this stupid promise. It was, in theory, a good one: if Aivey were killed and Derek hidden away for safety, their cause was obviously losing, and Morelenth found himself hoping E'sere would keep it, hoping his rider wouldn't abandon this cause just because it was losing.
Morelenth wanted to tell E'sere this, too, but he said nothing, didn't wake the sleeping man. Pushing would do no good; some things, E'sere had to make up his mind on himself. Instead, Morelenth simply reached out, letting his mind twine around E'sere's thoughts, the wall between them perforated by sleep. Happy dreams occupied E'sere's thoughts, images of S'lien and Lexine dead (the thought no longer disturbed Morelenth), himself crowned--something. Morelenth couldn't put a name to this office E'sere's mind had created any more than E'sere himself could, in dream or wakefulness. But it was, perhaps, a good omen, that E'sere's dream-shoulder remained bare of knot while the crowds, Aivey notable at their fore, cheered for him.
Morelenth hoped this was what E'sere had chosen, whether they achieved that goal or not. If they were to die, he wanted to go like this, fighting for right; he didn't wish to be part of something as corrupt as the mainland had become. But he wasn't sure what their path was. The only thing he did know was: E'sere wasn't sure, either.