Broken Pots and Broken Hearts

Writers: Avery, Yvonne
Date Posted: 13th August 2015

Characters: Alina, L'pin
Description: Alina checks in on L'pin after the fatal Threadfall of the day before.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 1, day 4 of Turn 8
Notes: Mentioned: Kapera, N'vanik, G'dori
Notes: Part 3 of 3. Follows "Counting".

Alina

The Weyr seemed so quiet. Classes were cancelled and Alina didn't know
what to do with herself. Satai was dead. Even though she hadn't liked
her much, Satai had still been a part of her life. She felt guilty
that she hadn't been nicer, grateful that it hadn't been her, and
terrified that she'd be next.

And every time she closed her eyes, she saw Satai's tear-stained face
as she disappeared /between/ forever.

It helped to think of other things, and of other people. Alina crept
down the corridor to the Weyrlingstaff's offices with her heart in her
throat. She couldn't bear to see most of them, but L'pin... her first
thought when Satai had gone /between/ had been of L'pin. L'pin, who
was still grieving over his son, lost in the exact same way. Once
she'd landed, both she and Imarith had been too shocked to act, but
once she'd remembered L'pin she'd tried to go see him, but there were
people already with him and she'd retreated. But now... Alina
hesitatingly knocked on his office door. He probably wouldn't even be
in.

L'pin was indeed in his office. He'd gone in early in the day to start
reviewing Satai's records and he'd been there ever since, cloistered
with a pot of klah that had long ago gone cold and rancid and a desk covered in
hides - everything he'd written about her, as a candidate, as a
weyrling. He'd check the other 'staff's notes later. There had to be
clues in there that he'd missed. There must have been some warning
about what was coming.

The pages he had talking about her improvements in confidence mocked
him. He must have been blind when he wrote them. Blind, and stupid.

He let out an audible groan and rested his head against the palm of
his hand. He'd listened to Kapera's warning and given Satai light
firestone duty, throwing it to the Queen's wing. When she'd gotten
through it, he'd assumed she
would be fine. He should have called her off completely. He'd missed
something - and now a promising young holdbred girl was dead. Because
he'd missed something. His assessment had been wrong. His call was
_wrong_.

**You're a failure as a teacher,** a sly voice in his mind whispered.

He couldn't bring himself to tell it to stop. After all, it was right.

The knock startled him. He twitched. His elbow hit the klah mug, which
wobbled off the desk and shattered on the stone floor. "Shardit!" he
swore as it began to drip the remains all over.

Well, that would tell whoever it was that he was there. He sighed.
"Come in," he called.

"L'pin?" The weyrling pushed the door open cautiously. "Is everything
all right?"

It was Alina. He was surprised to see her here. He thought she would
have had somewhere else to be.

He gestured at the klah mug as a vague answer. A shattered vessel
with fluid leaking out of it. Right now, it seemed like the perfect
symbol of all of his problems. "I broke it."

"Oh no!" They stared at the broken cup and spilled klah together in
silence. It seemed like an insurmountable, insignificant problem. Then
Alina sighed, closed the door, and went to pick up the pieces. There
was no sense in letting it lie there. "I hope you're wearing sturdy
shoes. I can call a drudge in to clean up the klah, too."

He wanted to keep sitting there, but courtesy made him move. "I've got
it. No point in troubling someone else." He took out a kerchief and
laid it on the klah to soak it up, watching the fibers darken with the
liquid. At least it was dark brown that soaked into the tan fabric,
not red.

"What brings you by today?"

She shrugged and went to find a bin, her palm full of shards. "I...
wanted to... I don't know. I don't know how dragonriders manage when
someone..." she trailed off as she dropped the broken pottery into the
garbage. She couldn't tell him that she was worried about him. It felt
odd to say that to a teacher. And telling him that she was worried for
herself was out of the question.

He sighed and settled back into his chair, gesturing for her to sit.
His expression was drawn, eyes haunted. He could give a lesson, it was
a pattern of behavior he knew. Even if it felt like anything he could
say would be a hollow lie. How could he teach her anything about loss
- about grief - about coping and moving on? Him, who had wallowed for
so long after R'min? It was his fault they were both reeling from
Satai's death.

"It depends on the person, just like most things," he finally said.
"Some people drink. Some people celebrate life in more...personal
ways. Some find somewhere that makes them happy and visit it."

**What do you do?** The question was on the tip of her tongue. Instead
Alina glanced at the mess of hides on L'pin's desk. "Is that... all about
her?"

He hesitated. He probably shouldn't tell her. Wasn't it inappropriate for
a teacher to tell a student what he was doing about another one? **A
_former_ one,** his cruel inner voice reminded.

"All my notes from the beginning. I was looking for a clue."

"To what happened?" Alina blinked. "It was an accident."

"If I'd trained her better, if I'd spotted how scared she was. I was
supposed to teach her what she needed to know to come out of it. I
failed her, just like I failed my son. N'vanik should sack me."

Alina looked up, shocked and unprepared to hear an adult - one she
trusted - admit out loud that he was weak. "He wouldn't _dare_. There are
thirty-six of us still here because of you." She glared at him. "And you
can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved."

"You think she didn't want to be?" All the weyrlings had wanted to live
through it.

"Then why didn't she _try_!" To learn, to survive, to stand up for
herself. Tears pricked at Alina's eyes. She'd been cruel to Satai. Her
weakness and assumption that someone would come in and save her had made
her angry. Why should Satai be given special treatment when the rest of
them had to struggle to save themselves?

Alina's voice was sharp, but hid pain. The kinship recognition of
wounded souls drew him out of his own well of agony. "She did try."

"No, she didn't. She just cried," she said angrily. "She thought she was
special, but she wasn't. None of us are."

"We're all special because there's one of us," he replied. One self to have
for as long as you could. One self to lose and stop existing eventually. But
that was morbid, and he wasn't sure it would help her.

"You were asking how dragonriders cope, though. I won't tell you it gets
easier, because it still hurts when a friend goes away. Or even that
arrogant prick who bullied you in weyrlinghood," he added with a rueful
smile. "But when you see death all the time, your heart changes how it
grieves. You still miss them, but it's not supposed to be completely
crippling every time."

"Had you ever lost anyone you were close to at your cothold?"

"Of course. My grandparents."

"Did it fade eventually?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I didn't actually see them die."

"As a rider, you'll see them die sometimes. You'll feel the rider
deaths you don't see inside." Alina knew, now, how bone-deep the keens
went. "Eventually it becomes bearable. You learn how to mourn but how
to put it aside, how to keep going like they would want you to. It's a
different way of treating death, but it doesn't cheapen the meaning."

But it was still strange that it was _Satai_. Strange that Alina felt
so empty and sad when she knew that if any of her class would get
'Scored in a bad
way, it would be Satai. And angry that the girl hadn't done more to
protect herself.
"You should tell that to G'dori. I think he might need to hear it."
She hesitated.

G'dori might like to hear a bit of encouragement, but more than that,
L'pin needed
to be pried out of his office and away from his hides. He wouldn't find any
answers there. There were no answers. "He was right beside her, you know."

"He was?" L'pin couldn't remember it. It was all a haze of sharpness. "He
and Narayath tried to save them too, didn't he? Like with Hevalda."

Alina nodded. "He watches out for all of us when we're in the air.
Someone should watch out for him."

"They're going to be a great pair in the wings. And so are you and
Imarith." Of this, L'pin could be sure. Alina was strong and a fighter,
even if she hadn't seen herself that way. And G'dori was a protector.

The complement made the weyrling shrug. "I still think you should make
some time this afternoon to go and see him."

"I will. I'll talk to him before anyone else," he promised. Because
others would need it, he was sure.

"Good. Well. I'd better go." Alina rubbed her palms against her knees,
then rose. She hesitated by the door. "And L'pin? We still need you,
you know. Even if we're about to graduate. And the Junior Weyrlings
too."

The juniors. He thought of his favorites among them, wondered if he'd
lose one of them just like this, and his heart shuddered. How could he
take this grief again? Mentor them only to lose? He didn't _deserve_
that trust.

But the sincerity in her voice was moving, and brought a lump to his
throat. "You honor me. All of you."

"Not really. It's just the truth." She managed a small smile before
slipping out the door to return to the sunshine in the Weyrbowl.
Hopefully L'pin would find the sunshine too.

Last updated on the August 13th 2015

Welcome to Triad Weyrs!

Broken Pots and Broken Hearts