Post by Cait on Oct 29, 2012 22:50:34 GMT -8
Dyranor crashed into the chambers that had been allotted to the trio from Vrishna Clan. Mud, who had been laying at the foot of Saddyris’ neatly made bed, started and with a snarl lurched halfway up. Even after realizing it was just a member of the clan, he still eyed the young man warily as he slammed around the room. Suiathon joined the canine on the bed that seemed to be the only safe zone as Dyranor began to tear at his fine clothing, stripping down to nothing and tossing the articles of clothing onto his own bed. He then began grabbing the rest of his clothing from the chest that had been provided for him, pulling on his travelling clothing as he encountered it.
With hide trousers on Dyranor began tossing things onto his bed; clothing, weapons and other trinkets he’d either brought with him or acquired since arriving. His bare feet slapped against the ground and each move became more and more exaggerated until he was no longer gathering his things but pacing along the far wall, both Mud and Suiathon watching him warily. It was the little Suiathon—who was usually quite stoic—that broke the growing tension with a single chirp.
Dyranor stopped abruptly and spun around so that he was facing the two four-legged spectators and stormed towards the end of the bed; Mud’s lip curled and Suiathon hunkered down, hissing softly. The young man’s voice erupted from his chest like a startled flock of birds in the jungle as he slammed a closed fist against his chest to emphasize his words. “I. Was. Not. Wrong!”
His pacing resumed, his blue eyes blazing and his black hair an unruly mess to match the tumultuous emotions that boiled in his gut, churning and popping. Stopping again, he stormed up to the bed once more. “This whole place is mad! Letting newborn creatures cause so much harm…to do NOTHING!” His arms were flung wide and his voice cracked as he shouted the last word.
Mud’s ears were pressed back and he looked torn between either staying perfectly still so as not to draw attention to himself or fleeing the room, though the later wasn’t exactly an option at the moment as the door had rebounded of the wall upon Dyranor’s entrance and closed. But then the canine’s ears twitched and he turned his elongated snout in the direction of the door just seconds before it slammed open once more. Saddyris stood in the doorway and a hand shot out to keep the door from crashing into her; the bangles on her wrist jangling harshly as the door impacted with her palm. The stain of anger was upon her cheeks her eyes flashed dangerously as she breathed heavily. Dyranor spun to face her, his chest heaving and his hands clenched at his sides.
“Do you have any idea what you have done? Any at all?!” Saddyris hissed as she stood in the doorway. The kerchief was gone from her head, lost between the Hatching Sands and the suite of rooms they had been given. As both humans stood their, staring at one another, Mud slipped from the bed and trotted out of the room, Suiathon hesitated then followed the canine leaving cousins alone to deal with the storm that was about to break open.
Dyranor narrowed his eyes and his knuckles went white as he clenched his hands tighter. “I did the right thing!”
“You NEVER do the right thing!” Saddyris stepped into the room and slammed the door behind her, her usually jovial and light-hearted face now a mask of rage. It was just too much to handle. This was beyond anything he’d ever done before. She might not be able to get him out of this one. He was fardling lucky he hadn’t been mauled on the spot! “Shards Dyr, did you even think before you went tearing across the Sands like some tunnelcat?!”
Dyranor was visibly shaking now as Saddyris stepped closer. He’d taken her down before and while somewhere inside he regretted that he was too far gone to feel that regret. All he felt was injustice and an overwhelming anger at…everything. He’d been trying to do the right thing and had been punished for it. He was always punished for trying to do the right thing! “I was trying to help.” The young man hissed between his teeth.
“Well you didn’t! You dug us—not just you but all of us!—into a hole that I might not be able to pull us out of.” Her hands flew about in the air, jerking towards Dyranor and herself and getting flung wide as she got herself worked up. Caravan folk certainly were animated if nothing else. “Do you have any idea how much damage you’ve—“
“Damage?!” Dyranor all but screeched. “I was trying to stop all the damage that those blasted dragons were causing! Everyone else was—“
“Everyone else was doing as they were supposed to be doing!” Saddyris stormed up to her cousin and slammed her palms into his chest, sending him rocking back. “If you would have just listened for once!”
With a snarl, Dyranor snapped and took a swing at Saddyris which she skillfully dodged only to straighten and slap him. Either the shock of it or the sound seemed to snap him out of his blind anger for long enough for the young woman to step out of reach.
“Get your things together and go back to the Clan; I never should have convinced them to let you come! I’m done coddling you and cleaning up your messes.” She pointed at the haphazard pile of belongings on Dyranor’s bed as she spoke. “For the sake of Grandfather and the Clan I will do what I can to make amends here.”
If anything, Saddyris’ words acted as more of a shock to the young man than her slap had. He stared at her, the color draining from his face. Convincing? Coddling? Cleaning up his messes? When had he ever…?
His eyes became too bright and glassy for a moment and Saddyris winced. Words spoken in anger were rarely diplomatic and often hurtful and yet she’d done it anyway. Still, Dyranor was eighteen now—the same as her—and he needed to start acting like a man. In a way she blamed herself for running about like a crazed wherry after the man, trying to smooth over any feathers he’d ruffled. Still…
For a moment it looked as though he might say something, but whatever it was, Dyranor swallowed it and blinking several times his face went hard. He strode forward, brushing roughly past Saddyris in the process and dug out his travel sack. His movements were still stiff but far less exaggerated as he folded all of his clothing and carefully packed away his belongings.
Steeling herself against his sudden change in mood, Saddyris cleared her throat softly. “I will send Poica with a message to Saddyr in three days, that will give you plenty of time to find the Clan and tell them what happened.” Her tone was softer now and laced with the slightest hint of remorse.
Dyranor paused and looked up, his lips pressed into a thin line. After several seconds he finally spoke. “Saddyris?”
“Yeah, Dyr?”
“Shut up.”
Saddyris pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes slightly before sighing and slipping out of the room. Mud was waiting near the door and fell in at her side as she slipped into the weyrbowl, Poica and Suiathon in the air above her head before the later landed on her shoulder and hissed his discomfort.
Once Dyranor was fully dressed and had all of his things packed, nearly an hour had passed. Slipping out of the room he didn’t look back as he exited into the weyrbowl and looked around. Saddyris was nowhere to be seen though there were far more people than there had been before. The Hatching must’ve been over and Dyranor growled under his breath. “Insane; all of them!”
With a scowl on his face, he shouldered his pack and tucked his bow into the loop designed for it then started towards the portal from the Weyr that led to The Road…he’d go get his horse and then…then what? Return to the Clan and have them punish and mock him? He was supposed to be his father’s heir, but would that still be the case? Saddyris’ voice rang out once more and he winced. Why had they needed convincing to let him go along as advocate to the Clan? Had Saddyris really been their first choice?
There was a stinging in his eyes that felt suspiciously like tears and Dyranor blinked them away as he sent a mental summons to the little black-white flitt that was his companion. Part of him was tempted to slip into the jungle and disappear but the Golden Queen had said for him to leave and he was man enough to admit that the thought of Archith catching him on her land scared him silly. Yet returning to the Clan seemed tantamount to suicide. In fact the only thing he was certain of was that he had to go to Cliffside to get his mount before he could do anything else. That would give him roughly a handful of hours to come up with an idea. Saddyris would see, he’d fix this.
He hadn’t done anything wrong of course…but he’d fix this!
With hide trousers on Dyranor began tossing things onto his bed; clothing, weapons and other trinkets he’d either brought with him or acquired since arriving. His bare feet slapped against the ground and each move became more and more exaggerated until he was no longer gathering his things but pacing along the far wall, both Mud and Suiathon watching him warily. It was the little Suiathon—who was usually quite stoic—that broke the growing tension with a single chirp.
Dyranor stopped abruptly and spun around so that he was facing the two four-legged spectators and stormed towards the end of the bed; Mud’s lip curled and Suiathon hunkered down, hissing softly. The young man’s voice erupted from his chest like a startled flock of birds in the jungle as he slammed a closed fist against his chest to emphasize his words. “I. Was. Not. Wrong!”
His pacing resumed, his blue eyes blazing and his black hair an unruly mess to match the tumultuous emotions that boiled in his gut, churning and popping. Stopping again, he stormed up to the bed once more. “This whole place is mad! Letting newborn creatures cause so much harm…to do NOTHING!” His arms were flung wide and his voice cracked as he shouted the last word.
Mud’s ears were pressed back and he looked torn between either staying perfectly still so as not to draw attention to himself or fleeing the room, though the later wasn’t exactly an option at the moment as the door had rebounded of the wall upon Dyranor’s entrance and closed. But then the canine’s ears twitched and he turned his elongated snout in the direction of the door just seconds before it slammed open once more. Saddyris stood in the doorway and a hand shot out to keep the door from crashing into her; the bangles on her wrist jangling harshly as the door impacted with her palm. The stain of anger was upon her cheeks her eyes flashed dangerously as she breathed heavily. Dyranor spun to face her, his chest heaving and his hands clenched at his sides.
“Do you have any idea what you have done? Any at all?!” Saddyris hissed as she stood in the doorway. The kerchief was gone from her head, lost between the Hatching Sands and the suite of rooms they had been given. As both humans stood their, staring at one another, Mud slipped from the bed and trotted out of the room, Suiathon hesitated then followed the canine leaving cousins alone to deal with the storm that was about to break open.
Dyranor narrowed his eyes and his knuckles went white as he clenched his hands tighter. “I did the right thing!”
“You NEVER do the right thing!” Saddyris stepped into the room and slammed the door behind her, her usually jovial and light-hearted face now a mask of rage. It was just too much to handle. This was beyond anything he’d ever done before. She might not be able to get him out of this one. He was fardling lucky he hadn’t been mauled on the spot! “Shards Dyr, did you even think before you went tearing across the Sands like some tunnelcat?!”
Dyranor was visibly shaking now as Saddyris stepped closer. He’d taken her down before and while somewhere inside he regretted that he was too far gone to feel that regret. All he felt was injustice and an overwhelming anger at…everything. He’d been trying to do the right thing and had been punished for it. He was always punished for trying to do the right thing! “I was trying to help.” The young man hissed between his teeth.
“Well you didn’t! You dug us—not just you but all of us!—into a hole that I might not be able to pull us out of.” Her hands flew about in the air, jerking towards Dyranor and herself and getting flung wide as she got herself worked up. Caravan folk certainly were animated if nothing else. “Do you have any idea how much damage you’ve—“
“Damage?!” Dyranor all but screeched. “I was trying to stop all the damage that those blasted dragons were causing! Everyone else was—“
“Everyone else was doing as they were supposed to be doing!” Saddyris stormed up to her cousin and slammed her palms into his chest, sending him rocking back. “If you would have just listened for once!”
With a snarl, Dyranor snapped and took a swing at Saddyris which she skillfully dodged only to straighten and slap him. Either the shock of it or the sound seemed to snap him out of his blind anger for long enough for the young woman to step out of reach.
“Get your things together and go back to the Clan; I never should have convinced them to let you come! I’m done coddling you and cleaning up your messes.” She pointed at the haphazard pile of belongings on Dyranor’s bed as she spoke. “For the sake of Grandfather and the Clan I will do what I can to make amends here.”
If anything, Saddyris’ words acted as more of a shock to the young man than her slap had. He stared at her, the color draining from his face. Convincing? Coddling? Cleaning up his messes? When had he ever…?
His eyes became too bright and glassy for a moment and Saddyris winced. Words spoken in anger were rarely diplomatic and often hurtful and yet she’d done it anyway. Still, Dyranor was eighteen now—the same as her—and he needed to start acting like a man. In a way she blamed herself for running about like a crazed wherry after the man, trying to smooth over any feathers he’d ruffled. Still…
For a moment it looked as though he might say something, but whatever it was, Dyranor swallowed it and blinking several times his face went hard. He strode forward, brushing roughly past Saddyris in the process and dug out his travel sack. His movements were still stiff but far less exaggerated as he folded all of his clothing and carefully packed away his belongings.
Steeling herself against his sudden change in mood, Saddyris cleared her throat softly. “I will send Poica with a message to Saddyr in three days, that will give you plenty of time to find the Clan and tell them what happened.” Her tone was softer now and laced with the slightest hint of remorse.
Dyranor paused and looked up, his lips pressed into a thin line. After several seconds he finally spoke. “Saddyris?”
“Yeah, Dyr?”
“Shut up.”
Saddyris pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes slightly before sighing and slipping out of the room. Mud was waiting near the door and fell in at her side as she slipped into the weyrbowl, Poica and Suiathon in the air above her head before the later landed on her shoulder and hissed his discomfort.
Once Dyranor was fully dressed and had all of his things packed, nearly an hour had passed. Slipping out of the room he didn’t look back as he exited into the weyrbowl and looked around. Saddyris was nowhere to be seen though there were far more people than there had been before. The Hatching must’ve been over and Dyranor growled under his breath. “Insane; all of them!”
With a scowl on his face, he shouldered his pack and tucked his bow into the loop designed for it then started towards the portal from the Weyr that led to The Road…he’d go get his horse and then…then what? Return to the Clan and have them punish and mock him? He was supposed to be his father’s heir, but would that still be the case? Saddyris’ voice rang out once more and he winced. Why had they needed convincing to let him go along as advocate to the Clan? Had Saddyris really been their first choice?
There was a stinging in his eyes that felt suspiciously like tears and Dyranor blinked them away as he sent a mental summons to the little black-white flitt that was his companion. Part of him was tempted to slip into the jungle and disappear but the Golden Queen had said for him to leave and he was man enough to admit that the thought of Archith catching him on her land scared him silly. Yet returning to the Clan seemed tantamount to suicide. In fact the only thing he was certain of was that he had to go to Cliffside to get his mount before he could do anything else. That would give him roughly a handful of hours to come up with an idea. Saddyris would see, he’d fix this.
He hadn’t done anything wrong of course…but he’d fix this!