[PRP] Fate of the Falienn [Falienn/Gr'del]

[ShinosBee]

Falienn hadn't been the lone one sent to lurk the hallways outside Gr'del's weyr. He hadn't even been the last to be sent there, honestly. He WAS one of the few (the only one?) who didn't look upset, or panicked, or distraught about the whole ordeal though, and he waited his turn with more or less disinterest. Deep, deep inside there was a small knot of insecurity, of what must have been his reasonable, mature side, just breaths from a panic—if the Weyr cast him out, it wasn't like his hold would have him back with open arms, he didn't have a craft!—but it was buried beneath so many layers of anger, of feeling cheated, of his own self-inflated ego that he barely felt it, and certainly paid it no mind. And that left him feeling more vacant, more empty, and calm in that emptiness, than anything.

When his turn came, and some other would-be candidate came shuffling out of the weyr (he didn't bother to mind them enough to register tears or relief on their face), he ambled in without hesitation. He cast about the man's weyr as he discerned where to go. Desk, chair, ah. Should he sit, there across from Gr'del? Probably. He gave the smallest of nods of acknowledgement as he settled himself in muted silence. It'd probably been a bit of a long day for the candidatemaster already, huh?

Well, he'd sort of brought it on himself. Not that Falienn would point that out just now.

Uta

 

[Uta]

ShinosBee

Gr'del watched as Falienn entered his office. He sat behind his desk, his brows knit, and a frown taut on his face. It had been a long day for the brown rider, but this day was a long time coming. Things had been spiraling out of control quickly, and he was well over it. While some of the problem children had gone to Impress, they were V'mel's problem now. He still had the rest of the Candidates to deal with, to talk to, to handle.

Like Falienn.

For a moment, Gr'del said nothing as he sized up the Candidate. Some of the faces he spoke to would return to their lessons; some of the faces he'd seen would not. Where would Falienn fall after today's discussion? Well, there was only one way to find out.

"Falienn," he finally acknowledged. "You know why you're here. You don't want to be a dragon rider." He let the words sink in for a moment, leaning back in his chair as he watched the young man. "I have a few questions about that. The first being, is it true? The second being, when did you come to this new revelation? Just today or has it been something you've thought about for some time now?"

Was it true that he had no interest in dragon riding? If so, then getting him out of the Weyr was likely the best option. Gr'del wasn't here to waste Falienn's time, or have Falienn waste his. On the other hand, he knew a Candidate's feelings about dragon riding could change and evolve over time; some got cold feet fearing one aspect of dragon riding or from outside pressure -- family, a craft, self-doubt, some other influence in their life. Gr'del was there to help his kids make sure they were making the right choice, and Falienn would be treated no different.  

[ShinosBee]

Well, if Falienn was more concerned over his position, his standing in the weyr, he might have been impressed with how well Gr'del seemed to...to really care. Falienn KNEW the man had done this multiple times already, but it didn't even sound scripted. Shards. That was...actually pretty impressive. Well, it was good to know that the Weyr had obviously picked the right guy to mind and assess their would-be riders. Add that to the list of things they'd gotten right.

But this was more or less important. Probably should pay attention, and answer...how? He was fairly sure he knew what to say to guarantee himself his knots back. But he really...didn't want them? That same vaguely empty, disinterested, resigned feeling that'd come over him when he'd refused to raise his hand was still there. He just...didn't care. Sure, it wasn't like he wanted to end up holdless or a drudge, some nobody kitchen hand, but...he didn't want to be a rider either. He'd wanted it, rather badly even, at one point. The idea of having his own dragon, being able to rub it in his father's face, being able to be free in that way non-riders weren't (thread nonwithstanding)? Things just had not gone at all to plan.

He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as he let his thoughts roll and tumble in his mind. "S'pose I'm not sure," He finally admitted, rasping and rough. "I never really wanted one for any good reasons you'd want to hear." Oh. Well. It looked like it was just going to all come spilling out now. Did it matter? He couldn't bring himself to care enough to stop and lie. "Hold wanted me gone, and then the search? Good timing for them. So it wasn't exactly my choice, but I wasn't really unhappy about it either, you know?" He'd been glad for the chance to become a bit of a bigshot. If he got a green dragon, K'ienn would be angry. If he'd gotten a brown or bronze, he could rub it in his old holder's face, couldn't he? Plus, just being a candidate had made him better than any other hold brat, above them. Made his exile to the weyr seem more promotion than punishment.

"I guess if you're asking when I went from indifferent to negative about it, it'd be when that green decided to try to kill me just for standing there," He admitted, tugging absently at the ever-present scarf wound about his throat. "Not like I'd even touched her egg. Hadn't been mauled or had a friend mauled. I was excited, Gr'del, shardit all." Excited to maybe impress there, and be able to just put his father behind, not that that tidbit felt ready to come out yet. "And then after, it's lecture after lecture about thinking positive thoughts, about valuing the dragons over the people." His voice was growing raspier as his volume tipped upwards, straining his vocals. "It's hard to look forward to just another chance to fail or die, when you didn't do anything wrong the first time, and all anyone cares about's the sharding dragons."

Uta

 

[Uta]

ShinosBee

Gr'del watched Falienn as the man spoke, listening to his words, but also trying to read between the lines. He had to be on top of his game to make sure the Candidates in his care were safe. What were quiet or secret calls for help? Who was falling behind and struggling but trying to get around confessing their confusion? Who was smiling broadly just to hide some sort of fear or pain? He had to be responsible for men and women of all ages, and all backgrounds, and prepare them for the responsibility of possible Impression.

As the man spoke, part of Gr'del noted that maybe, just maybe, he'd failed Falienn. He looked after dozens of Candidates day in and day out; they came and went, their names, faces, could at times blend together. Not because he didn't care, but because he was only human. He was a busy man, and while had Assistants to help, that didn't mean that sometimes problems, issues, concerns, didn't get properly ironed out or handled. Western's Hatching had been a catastrophe, but perhaps he hadn't spent enough time with the wounded and the injured.

"Many are relieved from the burden of unwanted homes thanks to Search," he acknowledged, giving a small grunt. While it wasn't always an ideal reason to accept a dragonriders offer, Gr'del also understood there were many at High Reaches who might have only come to get away from an otherwise awful life. Mostly, he wasn't surprised to hear Falienn confess to the good timing of his Search. It happened to many of them. "You're certainly not the first to take the opportunity simply for a chance to escape."

But....

If that was where Falienn had been coming from, he could understand how there might be culture shock when suddenly his life was placed secondary to that of a baby dragons. For a moment, the man thought about the others words, tried to understand what it might be like. A small part of Gr'del wanted to object to what Falienn said. Their Candidates were important -- those of High Reaches were all kept in high regard. And yet, another part of Gr'del also knew the reality -- when it came to dragon riding, some lives were well more important.

"Death, mauling... It is a known risk of a Hatching," he began, slowly. "While there were things that went wrong with Western Weyr's Touching and Hatching, things out of our control, the truth is that could have been any Queen's clutch. There is no guarantee any Candidate will make it out alive, though I hope you understand that we do value your lives. That I value your lives," he emphasized, thick brows knitting as he stared down at the Candidate.

"But the truth is, Falienn, a baby dragon's life is worth more." He let the words sink in, let Falienn really hear the truth. "With Threadfall back, the reality is that the only thing between a functioning society, and chaos, death, and pain, is that dragon and whomever it chooses as a rider. It's not that you're worthless, but keep in mind that dragons are a rare commodity. There are far more Pernese than there dragons, and it is up to the couple of thousand dragons on Pern to save an entire planet of people, and its resources. Baby dragons are important because there is no guarantee an entire clutch will make it through weyrling Training. Baby dragons are important because there's no guarantee that rider and dragon will manage to survive a Turn of life; and with Thread back, the likelihood of living a long life is now substantially shortened. If you Impress, Falienn, you will be giving up the freedom you once had to go where you want, do what you want, or even think what you want. Your dragon will know your every secret, your every desire, and you will never be alone again, for better and for worse. Your days are no longer your own -- every thing you do will hinge on caring for your dragon, because they can't care for themselves. One wrong thought, one day of neglect, could be all it takes to kill your life partner, someone else's partner, or even yourself." His face was grim -- it was the unpleasant reality of Candidacy, and Gr'del wondered if the boy had ever considered what he was giving up for the chance of Impression. "Furthermore, as a dragonrider, your life is no longer your own. You will live to serve Pern, and will be expected to sacrifice your life for those who would otherwise be Threadfodder. Protecting Pern so future generations can thrive is what we are here for; is what dragons were made for...

"We need baby dragons, Falienn, and we need them all, and as many as we can get. But don't think for a minute that the Weyr looks down upon Candidates. Don't think for a minute that we find no value in you. Why do you think we invest all the time, money, and resources on you and your peers? Why do you think I am constantly hounding and chasing all of you to remember the rules, to try to steel your thoughts, on what to do, and what not to do? I harp so much about the importance of these things to save baby dragons lives, yes, but mostly to try to save yours!" He leaned forward, hoping Falienn could hear the pain in his words. "I'm harping on all of you today because I don't want a repeat Western catastrophe. I don't want to see you bloodied, broken, hurting, limping from the Sands; I don't want to see more bodies in unmoving heaps, so much potential cut short because someone didn't know not to smack an egg, or piss off a Queen.

"I'm not saying that attacks don't happen -- because they do. The dragons are almost feral at birth, and without having their bondmate, they are likely to be aggressive, afraid, and violent. But I don't want you to die, Falienn. I don't want any of my Candidates hurt. I stress the importance of rules, so these attacks can be avoided; I stress the high expectations of how Candidates act and behave on the Sands, during a Touching, and during a Hatching, because I want to save dragons lives, yes, but I also want to save you and your fellow Candidates lives.

"I know it's not ideal." He sighed, sitting back, reaching up to run fingers through his greying hair. "Candidacy, dragonriding.... It's not for everyone. There's so much focus on the rewards, and trust me, I couldn't function if Siriath was no longer with me. I don't know how I lived as long as I had without him. Impression is a magical thing, but it does come at quite the cost." And sometimes, that cost was too high to pay.

Falienn wouldnt be the first person to walk away if that's how the boy felt. "Falienn, you were Searched because we need you. Someone out there felt you would make a good fit. I don't want you to leave, or be scared or frightened off...but I also don't want you to stay if you just don't think this is going to be something you want. Impression can't be undone. While there's no guarantee you'll Impress, there's also no getting out of it if a dragon does seek you out." No amount of fear of Threadfall; no amount of wanting to run; no amount of regretting their life's choice could turn a dragon from His. If his Candidates weren't prepared for that level of commitment, then Gr'del would rather know now than later....  

[ShinosBee]

He'd listened to the stories of several of the other candidates, he knew full well how many considered this life a miracle compared to where they'd come from. "Many are relieved from the burden of unwanted homes thanks to Search," he mirrored back. But not him. He appreciated Gr'del's concern, but the misunderstanding glared back at the already unsettled teen. Coming to High Reaches had felt far more like exile than escape, but no one was ever forced to accept the search. No one could answer 'yes' or 'no' for a potential candidate. That didn't mean that those around that would-be-candidate didn't have ways to make one or the other option seem more or less appealing.

Still, wanting or not, he was here now. Subject to all the rules and expectations as any bright-eyed and eager child that'd all but begged to stand the sands. That didn't make it a sweeter pill to swallow, the idea that even this man before him, the one handpicked to care for and guild him (and others like him) would perhaps not gladly, but certainly willingly see him and hundreds like him bled out if it meant even one more dragon in the sky. How long had Gr'del even been at the weyr? How long had he lived his life waiting for the day thread would return? And how unfair was it that Falienn had had to be born into this time, this place, where his age group had been reared up to see all the possibilities of life with and without dragons, to have been told that they were just as valued singly as they were bonded, and then to have that ripped away? Truth turned to lies overnight, and now nothing mattered but the bond, the dragons, fighting thread. It wasn't that any of them had had a choice in it, but that didn't make it any more fair.

And as much as Gr'del reiterated that he didn't want any more bloodshed, he still was willing to stand by and let it happen. Because even if they all followed every rule, behaved their best, stayed bright and happy to the bitter, bloody end, it wouldn't be enough. They'd still be mauled and broken and killed, and mourned, but also considered just part of the now-acceptable loss.

Faranth Between. He sharding hated dragons.

"You're right. It's not ideal. I don't have an out, here, G'rdel," His voice picked up volume as he started to lose his previously solid grip on his emotions. "The last thing I'm ready to do is give up my life on the sands, but what am I supposed to do otherwise? I can't go back to my hold," He could, but it'd be in disgrace—all his previous reputation and bluster gone, and to face that shame? No, he really might rather die than go back like that. "I don't, shards, Gr'del, I don't have a craft. I'm not just going to waste my life in some kitchen, I can't—!" His almost-yelling cracked off with a sharp hacking cough. Raising his voice had been a mistake, it felt like his throat was on fire. Shards. Shards! He couldn't even get properly pissed anymore, thanks to that, that GREEN!

Uta

He mayud. Legit I am a-okay with him getting the boot or whatever might happen. We gonna have to see where this all goes, he is jsut so mayud right now.

 

[Uta]

ShinosBee

Gr'del listened to the man, listened to his fear, his anger, and his words. The man had been disappointed in the conduct of his Candidates for some time now, and no amount of lessons and training seemed to prepare them for what they would encounter. No amount of training or lessons would prepare them for Impression, or for fighting Thread, but by Faranth, that's what he was trying to do!

Falienn had been mauled by that green. Had he deserved it? No. Had the Western boy deserved to have his life cut short because of an enraged dragonet? No. But there were no guarantees in life. Falienn's words were met with sympathy -- had this been before Thread's return, he would have fussed, and cooed, and generally made much over the poor man. And part of Gr'del wanted to. He didn't want a one of his Candidates to wind up with a drop of blood on the sands; he didn't want them criplped, maimed, or mauled. And yet...

More than ever, those dragons were needed. Maulings, maiming, death was expected. Perhaps it was cruel, perhaps it was heartless, but hatchlings were the future of Pern. There were far more Candidates than there were dragons; there were far more non-riders than there were dragonriders. And yet, it was those dragonriders who would likely make the ultimate sacrifice, one way or another. If it wasn't on the Sands, it could well be during training, or Thread. An early death was practically a promise with Thread back in the game.

So the man said nothing as Falienn worked himself into a cough. Instead, he reached over and plucked a small, clean, handkerchief from one of the desk drawers. With the flu that had gone around, the brownrider had made sure to keep himself well supplied. He offered it to the man, before speaking.

"Falienn," the man spoke quietly. He wasn't upset or angered at the other. He didn't object that the boy had raised his voice, that he had fallen into near hysterics. "There now, sit back, take a few moments to collect yourself. Breathe. Did you need something to drink?" He asked, unsure what would be best for the man's throat. If he had to get up and get him a drink he would do so. Fussing came easy, whether Falienn wanted it or not. His actions and advice was sincere, and in no way patronizing. He didn't want the man to hurt himself further.

Once certain Falienn was settled, Gr'del gave a sigh. "Nobody is asking you to throw your life away, but it is a risk you must accept as a Candidate. You came close enough to losing your life, but I also can't promise or guarantee another attack won't happen. They're expected. And what happens when you Impress? Making it out of weyrling training alive is questionable, and even if you see graduation, you are guaranteed nothing but pain, and a high probability of death, once tapped into a fighting wing. With Thread back, a rider is no longer expected to live long, and their duty is to protect those who cannot protect themselves." He sat back and looked at the man. "Is that something you think you could do?" He asked, arching a brow.

"The thing is, you have more options than I believe you're aware. Just because you can't go back to your old Hold doesn't mean the Weyr wouldn't take you anywhere on Pern you wanted to go. We've transplanted individuals from one bad Hold to a better one, and we can do the same with you. You may not have a craft, but you could -- the Weyr has individuals you could study under and crafts to dabble with until you find one that suits. There's also work to be done in the Weyr -- and not just the kitchens, though there's no shame in taking that route, either. I'm afraid you've got some hard choice to make, and some thinking to do. You're going to have to earn marks one way or another -- and if it's not through Candidacy, then we need to find some place that you can go, some place you can really thrive." He frowned and gave a shake of his head. Part of Gr'del felt that he should have checked up on Falienn more than he had -- between the Western Hatching ad the flu, he'd found himself stretched thin with what needed to be done. And yet, perhaps he hadn't paid Falienn as much mind as he should.

That was on Gr'del. He was as much a part of the problem.

"If you want to stay on as a Candidate, Falienn, I'm happy to keep you on. But you have to understand the risks that come with standing on the Sands are just a drop in the bucket with what Impression and dragonriding will bring." He wasn't trying to scare the man away, but not stressing the risks associated with it meant he wasn't doing his job. "What you need to figure out is whether or not this IS what you want -- and if not, then what new path do you want to create? I'm not going to throw you to the whers, Falienn, even if you say you want out. We can talk about an exit strategy if that's what you want; or we can talk about keeping you on as a Candidate." Gr'del knew which he would prefer, but the choice was, and always had been, up to Falienn.

Siriath, for his part, hummed anxiously outside. While he was not near, he could feel the stress and tension, and he was well listening. To both the boy and His, the brown dragon sent forth a gentle, soothing wave. His was distressed, and the Candidate angry. Did Falienn truly hate dragonkind so? Well. He was upset, angry, hurting -- a ball of negativity. If he could have, he would have tucked the boy under his wing. Similar to Gr'dels thoughts, Siriath wondered if perhaps it would not have helped, had he only been more aware.