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Tending the Nest; [Tag Ira]
Topic Started: May 17 2015, 07:16 PM (656 Views)
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Iyandrel had not left her room in some time, save for the necessities; getting Iyansk some exercise and a good meal, occasionally feeding herself and making sure her brother always had enough to eat, going on patrols and guard detail when she was pestered enough to force her into it. In the last two or three days, however, Iyandrel had not left at all. Her brother, presently visiting Their Brother, The Weyrling, Hallowed Be His Vaunted Name, was in good hands, and she was content to let herself wallow in her misery alone.

She lay on the floor, head resting on Iyansk's thigh as the wher's slow and steady breathing helped to distract her from the grumbling of her stomach. She had been expected for patrol tonight, but she had ignored the handful of summons she had gotten. Instead, she had slammed her door shut, covered her glowbasket, and lay curled up close to the warm body of her wher as he whined softly in the darkness.

His sadness for her only amplified her own emotional distress. It was a horrific feedback loop, and Iyandrel found tears running down her cheeks as her body trembled. Vaioa was not what she had wanted. She had wanted to help her father with his hunting back at Rubikon, to see her brothers grow strong and get families of their own while she provided them with everything they could have possibly needed. And now? Now she had no family. Her middle brother was a Rider, and her youngest was a ghostly waif haunting the lower caverns and occasionally begging for food by offering to catch wild darters for the local Hold populace.

Needless to say, she was in no mood to play Vaioa's games any longer. She had no reason to; all of her reasons died with her father and were buried with her mother's disappearance. Another call came, requesting her presence with the squadron to go on a routine patrol to reinforce old tactics, and she simply turned away and buried her face into Iyansk's strong side.

Not going. Iyansk's... not well. Will not leave. Need help, the wher broadcasted to those demanding Iyandrel's presence, hiding the last bit from his Handler as she remained buried in her own distress.
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After a long patrol in the desert, neither Jerund nor Jerusk felt like wasting much time in getting washed off, fed, and back to their room. As it was, only Jerusk had eaten and Jerund washed before he learned that Iyandrel had ignored summons for patrol, in spite of numerous requests. He took in a slow, measured breath when he heard the news, his face falling into a flat scowl, and resignedly ignored the growling of his empty stomach to turn instead toward the young brownhandler's room, Jerusk ambling in his wake.

Jerund strode automatically, hardly aware of his surroundings, his mind running in rage over every qualm he had with Iyandrel. It was a constant battle to get her to pull her weight in the squad, requiring goading from him and the other officers, or any squad member willing to deal with the woman when his officers weren't available. And in the last couple of days, no amount of pestering had roused her. The woman was lazy, rude, a useless stone that weighed down the entire squad.

Not worthy to handle a wher.

Fuming as he was, Jerund did not pause when Iyansk's voice unexpectedly entered his mind. The wher's plea was ignored. Jerund was already on the way, and he didn't give a single shard if Iyandrel wasn't feeling well; that wasn't why he was coming.

He stopped only when faced with her closed door, and raised one fist to beat upon it. Angry though he was, he respected Iyandrel's privacy enough to knock first and let her admit him—or at least give her some warning before he lost patience and barged in anyway.

"Iyandrel! Open up!" Jerund said through the door. "I need to speak with you." Now, his tone implied.
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
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Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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A loud knock came to her door, and the woman found herself laughing through her tears. What idiot had decided to come after her? Did they really think their bluff and bluster was going to make her do what they wanted? It would have been pathetic, were it not so funny--or, rather, were she not so pathetic. After the voice spoke, she recognized it at once: Jerund. Of course Jerund had come after her. Who else would be so patently stubborn?

"Go away," she called, draping an arm over her head as Iyansk nuzzled her. "Or come in. Or go fardle yourself. Pick one."

Iyansk whined at this, lips pulling back in a grimace of distress as he curled up more tightly around his handler. The pale brown licked and nuzzled at her, snuffling and snorting as he tried to ease her unhappiness any way that he could.

The room was miserable and bare; all that truly remained was her pile of long-unwashed blankets on the ground, where she and Iyansk had been nesting for the last several days. Truly, she was a mess--and her quarters reflected it.

"I'm not going on that patrol. May not be doing anything, anymore," she continued, her voice growing quieter and more distant as she let her eyes close. "So if you think you can bully me into it... go bend a fork."

That was all the more she had the desire to say. With it said, she felt more hollow than before; those words had emptied her of all the ire that she could muster, and now she was empty save for the gnawing sadness that chewed her ribs and claws at her throat. What more could he do to her? Write her up? Get her put in some sort of prison? She scoffed at the idea, rubbing at Iyansk's heavy jowls with quiet dismay.

What did any of it matter?

"Door's open, by the way..."
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The door muffled Iyandrel's voice, but Jerund heard her words clear enough to understand the options she had given him. He paused long enough to sigh, to summon the manner of authority he had never quite felt comfortable in possessing, and to send Jerusk, his stalwart supporter, a long suffering look before he chose the second option. Obviously. He was reaching for the handle when he heard Iyandrel's voice again, quieter now, thin and lorn and empty.

Jerund sent another glance toward Jerusk, who looked somewhat bewildered by the woman's tone. Neither of them had expected something that sounded so… despairing.

But it did not douse his anger—it merely dampened it. He opened the door and stepped inside, his expression hard as he surveyed the mess at his feet. His closed, controlled mien belied the shock with which he beheld the room and the wretched woman in its center, curled up in a tangle of blankets on the floor. The whole place stank of neglect; the only life seemed to be the concerned hues of Iyansk's eyes.

Jerund took a single step forward to regard the girl crumpled on the floor. "Iyandrel." A surge of unwonted pity prompted him to suppress the ire from his voice; it came out cold and callous instead. "What is the meaning of this?"

Jerusk stepped around his handler, lowering his head to snort a greeting at Iyansk and then to examine Iyandrel. His demeanor was softer, genuine concern coloring his words and bleeding yellow into his eyes. What is wrong? the wher asked opening his mind to both handler and wher so that either might answer.
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
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Iyansk lifted his head and gave a few cursory wags of his tail when Jerund opened the door, his eyes glowing a bright green for a moment before dulling again to anxious yellows as he nosed at his handler lying prone on the floor. Iyandrel, for her part, did absolutely nothing when her personal sanctuary was invaded by the brownhandler and his massive companion. She remained in position, looking at nothing in particular, and scoffing when Jerund demanded an explanation from her.

"Why don't you just go feck yourself?" She asked, though the venom had largely run dry in her sorrow-pit. Her words carried none of the weight they once did, and she grimaced at the thought. "I don't owe you shaffit," she added, attempting to put a little more fire into her insults--a fire which was promptly extinguished when Jerusk padded softly over to her, his words quietly echoing in her skull.

Iyansk crooned at the older brown, his tail wagging once more as he felt the shift in Iyandrel's temper.

Sad, sad... so much sads, he replied, whining as he nudged his handler with his muzzle once more. All gone.

Quiet, Iyandrel seethed, resting a hand on her wher's face to try to silence his thoughts.

But... help. They help sads.

They won't help anything. It's none of their fecking business, anyway, she said, glaring at her wher for a moment before looking back at Jerusk and taking a breath to clear the sudden hitch in her throat when she saw the concern written plainly in the wher's undeceiving eyes.

"It's nothing you'd care to hear. Find my brother and ask him, if the stupid dimglow even... even knows..." The hitch came back stronger, yoking tears with it as it rose to block the words in her throat again. "H-He probably doesn't... even... know they're dead," she continued, having to force the words out, though her voice was low and quiet. She was talking to herself more than to the others, the realization dawning on her and making her feel sick to her stomach as she thought of her giant of a younger brother a-dragonback, no idea that his parents were both dead and his childhood home abandoned.
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A flash of irritation crossed Jerund's features at Iyandrel's response, and the muscles of his jaw tightened as he controlled the impulse to snap back. He was not going to go feck himself, and while it was true she owed him nothing, she did owe Vaioa Hold. They had given her Iyansk. They had invested in her, expecting a productive worker in return, and had gotten instead an uncooperative, volatile layabout. The Hold could give, and the Hold could take away.

He opened his mouth to remind her of this, but Jerusk looked at him, sent a wave of strong denial over their link, a wordless command that silenced him at once. The brown edged a little closer to the girl, assuming a stance Jerund recognized as protective—against him!

Jerusk! he started angrily.

Wait, said the brown privately. Listen a moment. So much sadness. He sniffed. Room stinks of it.

I know, Jerund said, gritting his teeth. Iyansk had told them as much, and he could see it with his own eyes. Very well, then. He would hear what reason she would give for her moping. With great effort, he remained silent, and he listened.

I don't know who your brother is, he might have said. But then her next words struck him, quieter and more feeble than all the rest, yet struck him more than any one of her curses. His breath caught at them: they're dead. His fury melted away at once.

He met eyes with Jerusk again, and the brown ducked his head in sorrow. The wher creeled.

Jerund stood there, now awkward and uncertain in the face of grief he did not know how to meet. "Who has died?" he prompted, voice dropping to hardly more than a whisper. Someone close, clearly. Family? She had mentioned a brother.
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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She was vaguely aware of the large brown moving to protect her, vaguely aware of the man's shift in attitude--but nothing fully registered through her own recognition that her middle brother was completely ignorant of their parents' deaths. She felt sick, felt somehow sadder than she had felt in the entire time she'd let herself been wallowing in her own despair.

Jerund's question pierced through her haze, and she hesitated, fighting her throat as it threatened to strangle her with her own emotions. Iyansk whined, nosing at her once more as he shifted to curl around her, encouraging her to tell. If she told, she would get help. If she told, she would feel better!

But then... Jerund would know something about her--something deeply personal, something he could use against her. She scoffed as soon as the idea entered her mind: what more could Jerund use to hurt her? Everyone she cared about was dead.

The thought sent her to fresh tears as she hid her face in her hands.

"My parents," she muttered, forcing the words out through grit teeth. "My f--father... died from... infection in his old injuries... and my... my mother... she was going to see Warryn's speech, I think. She was... she was with the throng. She... she never... she never came home, and I... I know she's dead, too."

Her lungs burned, her chest ached; but for a moment, the burden felt slightly less than it had moments before. She took a deep, shaking breath, and pulled her hands away from her face to look at Jerund, pain written across her face as she allowed the walls to fall.

"They're dead and I haven't told my brother--he's a bluerider. Here," she continued, wanting to get rid of the rest of the weight. "My youngest brother... he's living with me. Somewhere. I don't... he's been begging. Because I haven't... I can't... I don't know what to do. They were everything. I did everything... I did everything so I could go back and help them. And live with them. And--and now they're gone and I have nothing! No plan. No future..."

She let out a rattling sigh and closed her eyes, sobs finally stopping now that she had forced the words to flow like poisoned rivers out of her heart.

"I don't know what to do, Jerund. So I just... I haven't done anything."

...and she had never felt more pathetic and worthless in her entire life.
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At first Jerund thought she would not speak. Why would she, after all? He was a stranger to her, nothing more than a distant figure of authority and probably a nuisance in her eyes. But after a long silence, quiet words finally slipped through the hands that covered her face.

There was a sharp intake of breath at the revelation: a faint, involuntary gasp as he heard what he feared worst. Every tremulous word of her unfolding story and every sob rent his heart, and he stood there in quiet dismay. Iyandrel's parents were dead. She had a younger brother; he was begging—

Her brother—the bluerider—did not know—

Jerund thought of the last few days. He thought of every summons he had made, every handler he sent to bang on Iyandrel's door to demand she report for duty, and felt suddenly ill. He had—oh Faranth—he had nearly threatened to take Iyansk from her, when she had lost so much already.

Jerusk stared at him, his mournful eyes—a sickly yellow-grey—imploring him to act.

But Jerund stared down at the woman, a wretched mess tangled in a sobbing heap on the floor, and did not know what to do. In the face of such pain, such grief, what could be done? There was nothing that could be said to bring her loved ones back; words were empty of comfort with bereavement so final.

Jerund crouched so that he would not loom above her; he wrapped his arms round his knees.

He could only help the living.

"Iyandrel, you should have told me," he murmured. "If I had known, I would not have—I would not have demanded... I mean to say, you can take as much time as you need." Jerund paused, fumbling awkwardly for something to say, and his gaze drifted across the neglected room. The brother was living with her, she said—in this. And begging for his food.

"Do not worry about your brother. He is welcome to stay here. I'll see that he's fed." Somehow. No matter if the marks came from his own pocket. No boy should have to beg. "And you, too," he said, eyeing her blanket-wrapped form. "Have you been eating?" Was she taking care of herself at all?

O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
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Iyansk keened softly as his Handler fell silent, her arms shifting to draw his massive head to her for a warm hug as she sought comfort in their sometimes one-sided bond. The pale wher closed his eyes, leaning gently against her as she listened to Jerund speak. She scoffed a bitter laugh when he said she should have told him--should have told anyone about what had happened.

"Why?" She muttered, running her fingers over the folds in the skin of her wher's neck. "It's not like any of you are friends. None of you have reason to care..." But her words cut themselves short when he said that he would see that her younger brother was fed. She blinked a couple of times, looking at him in utter bewilderment as her grip on her wher tightened.

"Wh... what? You--You don't--..." Myriad arguments were born and died on the tip of her tongue in the space of a few beats. How could she argue? She was in no fit state to care for her brother, and could use all the help she could get. Even her prideful former self could not deny this.

"...Thank you."

The words were hard, but they brought some relief. She would not have to bear the entire burden alone, anymore. Someone was there to help, even in this small way. He then asked if she herself had been eating, and she looked away from him, embarrassment and pride refusing to let her meet his gaze any longer.

"I'm fine."

Iyansk's not fine! Iyansk's not eat! Tell Iyansk to eat but not eat what Iyansk bring for Iyansk's! Her wher was a vision of protest, eyes sparking anxious yellows and angry reds as he pushed against the woman with his large muzzle. She grimaced, trying to push back against him--but of course he was much too strong for her in this state.

"I said I'm--I don't need any--" she paused, looked at Jerund and his mournful-eyed brown. Her grimace slowly faded into a mask of resignation. With a sigh, she let herself sink against her wher once more. "No. I haven't been eating. I don't... I don't want anything."

It hurt too much to eat, she wanted to say. It felt wrong to eat, to carry on as if nothing was the matter, when her whole world had become a fractured mess. She didn't express these thoughts, however, if only to try and save herself some small shred of dignity with the brownhandler who crouched nearby.
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Jerund let out a slow breath, his eyes narrowing slightly at Iyandrel's denial. Thank Faranth for Iyansk's honesty, he thought, glancing at the agitated wher; if he couldn't get the information he needed from Iyandrel, it seemed her brown at least was plenty willing to cooperate, so anxious was he to help his handler. Jerund looked back at Iyandrel, his face falling into a stern mask at her final admission.

His stare dropped to the stone floor. He was quiet for a long moment, until by a slight shift in his posture he seemed to come to some decision. Then, without speaking, he stood and moved toward the door. He paused in the doorway, looking back. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

Then he was gone. Either by intuition or by Jerund's silent command, Jerusk stayed with Iyandrel and Iyansk. The brown settled down on Iyandrel's other side, close but not daring to touch, though he wished to comfort her somehow, in his own wherish way.

Jerund will help, he assured her, his voice a murmur.

Jerund returned perhaps ten minutes later, pushing her door open with his shoulder. In his hands were two plates of food; there was a small bottle nestled under his arm. He crossed to the wall nearest to Iyandrel and, setting the two plates down, sat there. Scraping against the stone floor, he pushed one toward Iyandrel and set the bottle next to it.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, picking up the other plate and leaning back against the wall. "I haven't eaten yet. That's water, by the way." He nodded toward the bottle. Then he took up his fork and began picking at the wherry and tubers he had on his plate; Iyandrel had the same thing on hers, but a smaller portion.

Jerund looked at Iyandrel, his face still solemn, his mouth set in a grim line; but there was a softness in his brown eyes. "You may not want to eat, Iyandrel, but you need to. It will help." And he began eating.
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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