Ugly Truths

Writers: Leigh M-F.
Date Posted: 5th June 2016

Characters: Falior, Gordione
Description: They would have rather clung to a beautiful lie.
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 6, day 9 of Turn 8
Notes: A'kua, Bailan, Shastia, Eionen, Harston

The bronzes vanished in a blink, and the men were left on the threshold. For many wordless moments, they gawked at the now empty sky. Finally, Gordione shook his head and clapped Falior on the shoulder, startling the harper back to himself. "Let's get some ale," Gordione grunted, and hobbled into the kitchen.

Falior collected himself, closed the door, and followed. The old weaver shakily sat himself at the tiny table, and Falior found the jug of stout brown ale in the cupboard and two mugs, pouring for both of them. He served and sat as well, taking a huge gulp to settle his nerves. Gordione was slightly more restrained, since it took both of his trembling hands to hold the mug and get the liquid to his mouth. He set the pottery down once he'd had a few sips, staring into the ale.

"I thought he was lying in that letter," Falior said at last. "But Bailan was right. Why lie if the truth does more damage?"

Gordione shook his head. "Boy always had a wicked tongue. Horrible child. Boys shouldn' be defiant o' their elders."

Falior pressed a hand against his forehead; he was starting to get a headache. "I thought- I thought for sure he was worthless, but- but that dragon- Do the Weyrs take just anyone these days? Or did that dragon choose wrong?"

Gordione shrugged. "Mebbe. Ne'er been to a Weyr. Couldn' tell ya fer sure. We just send Dragonsfall things sometimes."

The harper met his eyes. "Was he right?" he asked. "About me pining after Shastia, that is. Or was he trying to hurt me?"

The weaver shrugged. "He'd hurtcha any chance he got an' laugh 'bout it, but...." He paused. "Y'never did take another fiancee."

Falior had to have another big drink on hearing that, because it was true. No other woman of the little hold had ever captivated him like Shastia had. He cared about the hold residents as a whole, and because Gordione would have been his father in-law, he did what he could to help the older man. But he'd never fallen in love another time. "How did that bastard find out?" Falior asked in order to change the subject. "That I was engaged to that wh- to his mother, I mean. That he should've been mine." Gordione frowned at him questioningly. "Before you joined me, he said 'Hey, Pops.'" He couldn't get the pitch right, but he nailed the insolence.

"Ah." The weaver shrugged. "Mebbe his slut o' a sire found him. Bailan did keep him in Harston's house a few days. Who knows what she told him."

Falior finished his ale and poured himself another serving. Old, familiar jealousy of and hatred for Eionen seethed in his guts, and he chugged the alcohol to drown it. That didn't work, so he filled the mug again, only for Gordione to put his hand over the rim.

"That's what killed Shastia, y'know," the weaver said.

The harper sighed. "I know," he quietly replied. Gordione removed his hand, and Falior drank more slowly with the silent, mutual understanding that it would be his last mug.

"I'm not well, Falior," Gordione stated once the younger man had finished. "Y'know that, too. I might go sooner'n later. When I do, get this place fixed up. Durane an' Plammy'll need their own home once ya marry 'em next Turn."

Falior nodded. "Of course. Is there anything else you'll need me to do?"

Gordione paused. "Make sure my headstone's next to my daughter's," he said softly. "For all I'm still disappointed with her, I miss her sometimes."

The harper closed his eyes briefly. "I do too. There are days I wish I'd married her despite what she did."

Gordione almost smiled. "Been a good son t' me anyway."

Falior mirrored his expression. "Thank you. I was glad to be."

They parted ways some time later, and Falior didn't think about the day's events until much later, when he had blown out his lamp and gotten into bed. It was there, between asleep and awake, that he realized Aluka must have lied about something after all: If he really had been on a sweep, surely he wouldn't have wound up swearing up a storm and sitting on the ground outside his grandfather's cottage.

But then, that boy had no compunctions about lying if doing so also caused damage.

Before he fell asleep completely, the harper's last thought was **I should send a bill to Dragonsfall for the gitar that cheeky bastard stole from me.**

He never did.

Last updated on the June 9th 2016

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Ugly Truths