Dalibor is a semi-canon Dragonriders of Pern site. No knowledge of the series or site is required to join; players of all experience levels are welcome here. Founded in 2008 on Proboards and moved to Jcink in 2013, Dalibor has been running for nine years.
Winter, 18th Turn, 11th Pass
Winter is in full swing as the Northwest reaches the middle stages of the cold month, and Dalibor, taking full advantage of a crackdust filled break in Threadfall, is back at it again. Delving into the Southern ice and snow, they have paired with Grove Weyr to fully explore the lands they only slightly uncovered the previous turn during the Jungle Expedition. This, however, will not be a warm and relaxing waltz through the woods; although was it ever that to begin with?
Rayna of Gold Couineth - Boo
Z'dyn of Iron Baihujinth - Rhia
Jali of Copper Laanasuth - Rii
Os'nin of Blue Alwanath - Aerona
Norla of Bronze Norsk - Ives
Oreanda of Bronze Osk & Blue Oresk - Ruin
Der of Grey Desk - Rii
K'ton of Blue Ironth- Jenn
S'vor of Green Absinth - Ruriko
Nia of Pink Koeneth - Catsitta
Ijo of Brown Isk - Rhia
Pavir of Blue Pavisk - Captain
Swithin of Blue Swisk - Ives
Ulian of White Rivath - Ruin
Zanii of Black Zansk - Leo
Dalibor was created by Bre, continued by Cathaline, and is now owned and operated by Ruin
. Most of the information, rules, and graphics were made, compiled, or written by staff with credit given to those whose resources they used. Stock thanks to credited parties. All characters and posts are copyrighted to the members of the game. No material from this site should be copied in any way, shape, or form without utter express permission from the members and staff. All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's 'Dragonrider of Pern' series are copyright Anne McCaffrey 1967-2017, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with general permission for non-commercial purposes without monetary gain.
Facing Fear, SP:18 (Zane/Sakoru)
Member Inventory: View
| ooc// backdated to early spring because I am a useless inactive creature ;A;
Dead silence fell around them. Snow lingered on the ground; patches of ice made the going treacherous. Ruane wasn’t put off by the deadly ground; her route to the edge of the lake was careful, but not much slower than she would ordinarily walk. Emath didn’t seem to notice the ice at all; his sharp talons seemed to make his traveling easier, and being a deliberately flightless dragon, he was used to navigating the slippery earth.
Why are we out, Ruane? We’re not supposed to be awake. It’s the middle of the night. Saying this less to vouch for weyrling rules than because he was sleepy, the burgundy settled his haunches on the ground as soon as they arrived at Ruane’s chosen destination. Rather than reply, the human half of the pair scaled a snowy boulder just at the edge of the water, balancing carefully on it as she turned to her dragon. Cocking his head, the young burgundy watched in mild curiosity. What are you doing?
She stopped, as if not expecting the question. Snow, soundlessly falling, had caught in her hair; Emath studied a particularly large flake as it settled on his rider’s shoulder. Playful mischief fell away from her manner, and Ruane’s hazel eyes grew serious as she looked at him. ”Emath,” she murmured into the silence. Something about her was very different tonight; perhaps drawn by her odd composure, the burgundy rose and ambled over to her, reaching up to touch her hand lightly with his nose.
What is it? Gradually coming more awake, the crimson dragon nuzzled his rider’s hand, and stood quietly when she turned full toward him and crouched, cradling his face in her arms.
Ruane’s forehead rested against his, and she was very still and quiet for a moment before she said softly, ”I need you to trust me, my Emath.”
Beginning to suspect her intentions, the burgundy flicked his tail uncertainly, nuzzling into her arms but growing uneasy. Ruane?
Perhaps her voice felt too loud for the silence, or perhaps it was just that thought seemed more appropriate, in this moment between just the two of them. Close your eyes, my love. And… listen. She tightened her grip on the burgundy, pressing her forehead still tighter to his. I know you’re scared, my little one. I… I’m scared too. But we can’t live like this forever. We can’t hold only to our bad memories.
Otherwise motionless, the burgundy closed his eyes, but his entire being was taut with anxiety. But that girl… she…
She did, my love. But… that’s not all that you are. Long moments passed in silence, with neither girl nor dragon moving so much as a muscle. Emath, I have many secrets I haven’t shared with you. And… I’m afraid that all of those dark things are the reason why I haven’t been able to help you. But I want to help you. Ruane swallowed, and hugged the burgundy tighter, and then she pulled away only far enough to catch his gaze with her own. It’s hard for me, too. But if I give you some of my secrets – if I share that with you – will you try the thing that scares you? Just a little bit?
Weaving slowly, his entire body curving and uncurving save for his head, the burgundy stared into his rider’s face, yellow eyes so pale they were almost white. What if I hurt you? Or someone else?
Ruane smiled, though it trembled on her lips. No one is around to hurt, Emath. And you won’t hurt me – we protect each other.
Uncertainly, the burgundy seemed to accept this logic. After a brief moment, he rumbled softly, and Ruane sat back on her heels, hands still resting under his jaw. Halting images slipped from her mind to his, disjointed and unsure. Her father, looming over her, and the repeated sharp blows of his staff on her back. A young horse with a broken leg – her favourite – and her violent tears as her father made her end its suffering. Other, darker things, and among the most hesitant of them all – blood staining the earth beneath the body of the first man she’d killed. Horror, as strong as the moment she had realized that she was a killer – and that she could do it again, and that she would. Many things she didn’t show him, for even now, at ten months of age, Emath wasn’t old enough to know it all.
But it was enough. He softened, though his eyes were still pale. I didn’t see all of that from my egg, he said quietly, and Ruane flinched as if under a blow. Physical pain could not shake her the way that those words did. But in a moment Emath continued, his mindvoice flickering. But you are still mine, Ruane. I chose you, knowing who you are – if not what you did. Real fear coloured his tone now, but he bravely continued. You’re trying to be brave. I need to try too.
With that, the burgundy gently nudged himself free, and backed carefully away, turning and anxiously unfolding his undersized wings. Keeping himself from looking at the short, twisted things atop his back, Emath broke into a run – the one thing he knew how to do. Ruane watched, heart and breath stopping as the burgundy built up speed. Moments later, he was pushing off, his forelegs tucking up, and his long graceful form stretching into a smooth arc as his little wings thoughtlessly lifted to catch him. She had watched the same thing happen so many times, and each time he had slammed his wings closed and hit the ground again, hardly breaking stride.
Now the wings beat instead, quivering with the need to stop this terrifying flight, but Emath beat them first once and then again, and slowly he gained altitude, flapping clumsily higher until he was two dragonlengths off the ground. Ruane, he called in a voice half elated and half shaking with terror. Ruane had straightened on the boulder, watching breathlessly, and now her form began to tremble, her shoulders shaking as tears scorched tracks down her face. You’re flying, she could hardly even think, and the burgundy released an anxious giggle as he flapped again, lost his aerial balance, and pitched sideways before catching himself.
I’m flying! It wasn’t graceful, or pretty – within a minute or two, Emath was distracted by trying to see if His was crying (she was), and he forgot what he was doing. Seconds later, he dropped into the lake with wings flailing, generating a mighty splash and an awkward croon as he swam back to shore. Ruane had collapsed to her knees, soundlessly sobbing as she replayed, over and over again, the moment when Emath finally let himself fly.
When he came back to her, she wrapped her arms around him, and cried until she had no more strength. And when she couldn’t be strong enough for them both, Emath at last realized that he was, and could be.
Unseen and unnoticed, Tigrea slipped out of the rocks by the lake and appeared at Morrigan's side. She, the cyan thought, would like to see this. Quietly, the little cyan offered the young woman an image of Emath's first flight, and then of Ruane at the lakeside.
She offered a soft chirp, and then disappeared to Ruane's room. Her work here was done.
@Zane - tag Morrigan
@Catsitta - thought you would like to see 8'D
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