Scorched Earth, Deep Roots

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 11th May 2019

Characters: Alina
Description: Alina packs up her weyr to move in with J'ackt, and tries to move on
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 10, day 27 of Turn 9
Notes: Mentioned: J'ackt, Elana

Alina

Growing up, the course of Alina's life was as predictable as the winding of a river. She and Elana would grow up in the fields around Nadol Cothold and, when they were old enough, would foster together at Emerald Falls Hold. They'd share a room and at night would laugh about the people they'd met and the men who would court them. They would dance at Gathers in pretty dresses that swung around their ankles, and they'd pin flowers into their hair-- white roses for Elana and colourful sprays of wildflowers woven into Alina's black braids.

They'd fall in love and marry -- to brothers, obviously. To handsome Crafters who would take them all across Pern and as far away as possible from Nadol's fields of yellow wheat and green hay. At some point they'd look at each other and realize they were old and had somehow acquired a pack grandchildren, and they'd laugh and laugh and wonder where the Turns went. They'd be together.

And then Alina had been Searched and that sundrenched future crumbled into ash.

The greenrider sat on the floor of her weyr studying herself in the little mirror over her dresser. Same black hair, same sharp face. She could see her twin in the curve of her jaw and the shape of her eyes. They had the same size hands with calloused palms from doing laundry in the river, hauling water and bundling the sweet-smelling fall hay. But Elana was gone, living half a shared dream in Emerald Falls.

And she was here, packing up what few things she had to move into J'ackt's weyr. She looked down at the dress in her hands, then at the basket at her side. The moment she was Searched, the moment she'd heard Imarith on the Sands, she'd been severed from her life on the ground by Thread and flame.

She looked back at herself in the mirror. Pale face, hair in a long braid down her back. Her hair marked her as Holdbred more than anything else. Weyrwomen cut theirs short, but she'd been stubborn.

Well, she _was_ stubborn. The greenrider scowled at her reflection. She _was_ Holdbred. Weyrfolk didn't know what it was like to plant wheat or stay up all night shivering in a barn, waiting for sheep to lamb. They didn't know what it was like to get up before dawn and tumble into bed long after dark, or dream of fresh greens and fruit when all that was left in the winter larder was cabbage and turnips. Her roots ran deep, deeper than a dragon could flame or Thread could burrow. She knew, in a way that weyrfolk didn't -- couldn't -- what a family could be.

Her roots were burnt, but intact. But her dreams, the thing that had sustained her, were gone.

She looked down at the ring glinting on her finger. It felt like a half promise compared to the detailed plan she and Elana had plotted for their lives. No sweeping love story, no children. She'd foolishly decided to give her whole heart to a man who couldn't give his whole heart in return. Fire, Thread, ashes. But unlike Elana, she might die in the next Threadfall. Or J'ackt might. Life became urgent.

Dragonriders were so scared to commit. They were scared to build family in case it was stolen from them in Thread. They used their dragons' needs as an excuse to grow shallow roots, to flit from person to person in an effort to protect their frightened, fragile hearts. The greenrider glanced up at the mirror again, studying the hardness in her gaze and the firm set of her jaw. She wasn't from the Weyr. She was Holdbred. She had deep roots, and she knew what family could be.

It hurt so badly that it stole her breath that J'ackt couldn't -- wouldn't -- love her the way that she wanted to be loved. The way that she'd determined that she would love him, focused and whole. Alina couldn't imagine a time that it would stop hurting, that his straying wouldn't make her feel inadequate and lonely. He'd told her that she wasn't enough. But her heart had made a decision, and now she didn't want to let him go. And she could never snatch back that dream she'd had with Elana, growing old together, laughing at their lives in the sunshine. Everything single thing she wanted was impossible.

She was Holdbred. She was stubborn. She was a dragonrider. **And I chose this,** she reminded herself. It wouldn't-- couldn't matter if J'ackt refused to love her the way she loved him. All that mattered was that she loved him in her way, like a Holder. She would love him like a dragonrider. She would love him through the hurt, until it scarred over into something bearable.

In her mind she tentatively started building a new dream. A cozy weyr and a gitar to play. J'ackt to love her, imperfectly and incompletely, and only half the time. And perhaps, when the Red Star swung away from Pern, something else. A cot of their own in the woods or by the ocean. Lessons at the Harper Hall. An orchard to grow fruit and make jam to sell to Traders. She could foster Elana's children if J'ackt never changed his mind about having children of their own. Her nieces and nephews could ride Imarith and Zith and imagine fighting Thread that they'd never have to see.

And maybe, if she was lucky, Elana would come visit her one day. They'd sit together outside her cot and watch Elana's grandchildren climb trees and play elaborate games with stones from the river and redfruit from the trees. They'd look at each other and realize that somehow they'd gotten old, and then they'd laugh and laugh and wonder where the Turns went.

Alina carefully folded the dress in her hands and put it in the basket. It was a start.

Last updated on the June 15th 2019

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Scorched Earth, Deep Roots