Dara's nightmare
Since we are having 'What's your character's nightmare' day thanks to roatelgari and biteymonster, I decided to give in and write up Dara's. Hope it's worth reading. :)
In the Weyr's living caverns, there is only silence. Essdara passes through them like a ghost; noone sees her or reacts to her presence. Here and there, scattered randomly around, are her friends. Faceless, formless, voiceless, she doesn't recognize who they are, but she knows they are the people she loves. As one, they rise, and pass out into the bowl.
A cold fear in her chest, Essdara follows them. In perfect formation, they all mount equally formless dragons, and take off into the sky. Looking up, Essdara sees why; Thread is falling, and starting to pass over the Weyr. Fear roots her to the spot, and the shouted, yet silent, warnings from her friends in the air do nothing to move her.
On unspoken command, her friends take turns to keep the Thread off her. One by one they pass over her, their dragon flaming the menace from the sky. And one by one, they are overcome. Each time a clump of Thread comes towards her, one of her friends gets between it and her, and is consumed in order to keep her safe.
As they disappear into between, they finally have form. Her parents. T'zen. Tavaly. Every rider she's ever been close to, every rider she's loved. And at the last, when all the flaming dragons are gone, one final pair sacrifices themselves for her, an absurdly small woman on an equally absurdly large gold. Her friends gone, she is left with a brief moment to cry before, with burning pain, she too is consumed, unable to even scream as the Thread takes her.
(( She wakes from the dream with a shudder, but is back to sleep before she even knows she woke up ))
She is sitting, exhausted and tired, on a chair in the nursery. Cradled in her arms is a small, newborn child. For a long moment she gazes at the baby, love and adoration. Suddenly, from out of the dark, a pair of hands pulls the child from her. A toneless, genderless voice says simply, "Not for you." And in an instant, the room is empty, with only an aching body to remind her.
In a daze she wanders out, and somehow the next room is the room the candidates prepare for a hatching in. Around her are people, vauge but familiar, all dressing in the traditional white robes. A voice scolds her for being late, and shoves the last remaining robe; typically, it's not white but gray. They are unceremoniously sent out on to the Sands to their fate.
In the galleries around her is everyone she knows, and they all call out - to one of the people around her. Not one of them so much as looks at Essdara. But the girl ignores it, following to the appointed place on the Sands.
On the sands, things go quickly. A large clutch, and exactly the same number of eggs as Candidates. One by one they hatch, and one by one the people around her Impress, and leave. When it is only her, and a single egg left, Dara smiles; it's her turn.
The egg hatches, and the dragonet moves towards the only option open to him. The color changes from moment to moment, all the colors dragons can be. And a few they can't; purple? It looks her over, and she holds her breath expectantly. Child of two riders, a moment assured since birth, a promise finally coming true.
It turns it's back on her, the disdain clear. It launches into flight as if it were a fully grown dragon, and in an instant, it is gone between. In the stands, there is nothing but understanding, a sea of voices washing over her.
"She should never have been there in the first place, a girl like her..."
"The other one would have been a better choice, I told you as much."
"A pity about the dragon, but who can blame it? She's not even really a girl."
A trio of people comes out to her. Roa, T'zen, K'sar. Wordlessly they take her arms, and lead her out to the bowl. She's mounted on Tialith, and as one the three take off and go between.
The beach they take her to is familiar to Essdara; she's been there before. In silence, they unload her from the dragon. K'sar and T'zen, with disappointment etched in their faces, close in on her. Wordlessly, they take what she is wearing and step away; the clothes belong to the Weyr, and she does not. It's Roa who reaches up for the clip in her hair, commenting that her mother wants it back.
The three depart, leaving Essdara alone on the beach. Unfeeling, she sits down in the sand, looking out at the grey storm clouds rolling in. It starts to rain, the drops cold as ice as they land on and around her. And then they burn like fire, and Essdara realizes it's not Rain, but Thread. And she smiles, closing her eyes, welcoming the burning, welcoming the darkness.
(( She up with a twitch, and her pillow is wet; she's been crying in her sleep again. She doesn't recall the dreams, but she knows when she's had them. She sighs softly, and sits up. It's still the middle of the night, be she knows there will be no rest for her. ))
In the Weyr's living caverns, there is only silence. Essdara passes through them like a ghost; noone sees her or reacts to her presence. Here and there, scattered randomly around, are her friends. Faceless, formless, voiceless, she doesn't recognize who they are, but she knows they are the people she loves. As one, they rise, and pass out into the bowl.
A cold fear in her chest, Essdara follows them. In perfect formation, they all mount equally formless dragons, and take off into the sky. Looking up, Essdara sees why; Thread is falling, and starting to pass over the Weyr. Fear roots her to the spot, and the shouted, yet silent, warnings from her friends in the air do nothing to move her.
On unspoken command, her friends take turns to keep the Thread off her. One by one they pass over her, their dragon flaming the menace from the sky. And one by one, they are overcome. Each time a clump of Thread comes towards her, one of her friends gets between it and her, and is consumed in order to keep her safe.
As they disappear into between, they finally have form. Her parents. T'zen. Tavaly. Every rider she's ever been close to, every rider she's loved. And at the last, when all the flaming dragons are gone, one final pair sacrifices themselves for her, an absurdly small woman on an equally absurdly large gold. Her friends gone, she is left with a brief moment to cry before, with burning pain, she too is consumed, unable to even scream as the Thread takes her.
(( She wakes from the dream with a shudder, but is back to sleep before she even knows she woke up ))
She is sitting, exhausted and tired, on a chair in the nursery. Cradled in her arms is a small, newborn child. For a long moment she gazes at the baby, love and adoration. Suddenly, from out of the dark, a pair of hands pulls the child from her. A toneless, genderless voice says simply, "Not for you." And in an instant, the room is empty, with only an aching body to remind her.
In a daze she wanders out, and somehow the next room is the room the candidates prepare for a hatching in. Around her are people, vauge but familiar, all dressing in the traditional white robes. A voice scolds her for being late, and shoves the last remaining robe; typically, it's not white but gray. They are unceremoniously sent out on to the Sands to their fate.
In the galleries around her is everyone she knows, and they all call out - to one of the people around her. Not one of them so much as looks at Essdara. But the girl ignores it, following to the appointed place on the Sands.
On the sands, things go quickly. A large clutch, and exactly the same number of eggs as Candidates. One by one they hatch, and one by one the people around her Impress, and leave. When it is only her, and a single egg left, Dara smiles; it's her turn.
The egg hatches, and the dragonet moves towards the only option open to him. The color changes from moment to moment, all the colors dragons can be. And a few they can't; purple? It looks her over, and she holds her breath expectantly. Child of two riders, a moment assured since birth, a promise finally coming true.
It turns it's back on her, the disdain clear. It launches into flight as if it were a fully grown dragon, and in an instant, it is gone between. In the stands, there is nothing but understanding, a sea of voices washing over her.
"She should never have been there in the first place, a girl like her..."
"The other one would have been a better choice, I told you as much."
"A pity about the dragon, but who can blame it? She's not even really a girl."
A trio of people comes out to her. Roa, T'zen, K'sar. Wordlessly they take her arms, and lead her out to the bowl. She's mounted on Tialith, and as one the three take off and go between.
The beach they take her to is familiar to Essdara; she's been there before. In silence, they unload her from the dragon. K'sar and T'zen, with disappointment etched in their faces, close in on her. Wordlessly, they take what she is wearing and step away; the clothes belong to the Weyr, and she does not. It's Roa who reaches up for the clip in her hair, commenting that her mother wants it back.
The three depart, leaving Essdara alone on the beach. Unfeeling, she sits down in the sand, looking out at the grey storm clouds rolling in. It starts to rain, the drops cold as ice as they land on and around her. And then they burn like fire, and Essdara realizes it's not Rain, but Thread. And she smiles, closing her eyes, welcoming the burning, welcoming the darkness.
(( She up with a twitch, and her pillow is wet; she's been crying in her sleep again. She doesn't recall the dreams, but she knows when she's had them. She sighs softly, and sits up. It's still the middle of the night, be she knows there will be no rest for her. ))