Help A Guy Out

Writers: Avery, Steel
Date Posted: 25th October 2025

Characters: V'rel, L'tos, T'ian
Description: V’rel begs a favor from an old friend.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 9, day 28 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: A’kades / Volaith, V’tian, R’lor

It was shortly before dinner, the day of the horrible Threadfall that had injured and killed so many. The mood of the Weyr was fairly glum after the Fall, and yet it wasn’t a silent tomblike place. It couldn’t ever be shut down in terms of activity. Riders were tending their dragons, people were checking on family and friends, and those who didn’t participate in Fall or related duties still had their own work to do.

V’rel wasn’t sure if Jelantos was in the Candidate barracks or doing chores. He knew the younger boy was a Harper, but remembered that back when he was a Candidate - shards, only a few Turns ago - that they’d all gotten assigned duties like firestone bagging and shoveling or running supplies in the bowl triage infirmaries, and then everyone usually wanted to wash off and lie down afterwards. It was worth a shot to go take a look.

So he pushed his way into the door of the boys’ side and scanned the room, looking for a familiar face.

Jelantos was in the Barracks, in fact, re-organizing his trunk for what felt like the thirtieth time.

He looked up at the footsteps, saw V'rel, and stood up, squared his shoulders just a little bit. V'rel outranked him after all. “...Sir?”

Anyone who had shared the barracks with or taken classes with V’rel would recognize his face was creased with exhaustion and emotion. “Hey. Are you free? I’d normally make a joke asking who you were calling Sir, but…” He bit his lip.

“I need some help and I need someone I trust.”

Jelantos opened his mouth, started to respond. And then he sobered, shoulders squaring further and stood taller. “You can count on me, V’rel. I'm free enough. What do you need?”

“Help bathing a dragon for the next few days, if you don’t mind. It’s not Rymeth -“ he added quickly, “but Volaith - my father was -“ And for a moment, he couldn’t continue, voice trailing off. The way his father lay in the infirmary, unconscious when he’d first seen him, haunted his memory and he had to blink away tears. They were damaged, but still alive. He had to cling to that.

“He’s not going to be able to wash Volaith for awhile, and I don’t know if I can manage washing Rymeth and Volaith both every day with my duties, and I’m sure the Weyrlingmasters will be okay with you helping out in free time,” he finally managed in a choked voice.

“Oh-- not at all!” Jelantos hastened to respond. His gaze darted up to V'rel's, and he nodded again. “I… I'll help, of course I'd help.”

He paused. “Is there… anything I should say to Volaith, or offer?”

“I’ll give you a warning so you’re ready for it. So you don’t freak out. The lightning burned him. There’s part of his wings and tail that are bandaged still, but he still needs oiling on the free parts. He has trouble lifting his wings, so he might be hard to clean parts of, but… I can’t stand the idea of him just only being checked in on occasionally by dragonhealers.” V’rel bit his lip.

“It’s silly, but…tell him he’s good and brave. Everyone was scared we’d lose them both, but he stayed with my father even when he was knocked out and didn’t panic.”

“I’ll be gentle.” Jelantos promised, instantly. “And careful.” He added. “You _know_ I don't fail tasks I'm given.”

There were Turns between them in age, and yet they’d both been in the Candidate barracks long enough to have established a rapport of friendship and mentorship, older boy to younger, so V’rel’s thanks were heartfelt. Thinking about mentorship made him also think…

“I know and I appreciate it. You might need some help to deal with a big bronze though… Any younger boys who you think you’d trust with him as well? Someone new - someone who isn’t weyrbred - someone who could use some close exposure to dragons before the Hatching?”

“There's Viantico.” Jelantos offered after a beat. “He's not that much younger than me, but I'm sure he'd do well. He has an older brother who's a dragonrider so he'd know proper dragon etiquette too.”

V’rel had grown up weyrborn - he knew what the costs were. Meanwhile, the hold- and hall-bred had no idea what they were really getting into with Thread. He knew when his father had been a Weyrlingmaster’s staff, he’d used dragon injuries as a way of sobering people up. Shouldn’t V’rel use his father’s dragon’s own injury in the same way? As a teaching lesson, as a way of passing on knowledge? Wasn’t this what leadership looked like?

“That sounds like a good choice. Two pairs of hands will go faster than one on a bronze, and it will give him a chance to get to see what dragonriding can really cost someone. Could you point him out or call him over, if he's here?”

“I think I saw him in the common room. I'll go get him now.” Jelantos responded, and straightened. “Meet you at the entrance?’

“That works for me. I appreciate it,” V’rel said, heading that way to wait.

Jelantos had been correct. Viantico had received a basic education in the cothold, like any other boy. But it was just that - a basic one. Not the kind the eldest son got, the one meant to inherit. Not the kind gotten at a crafthall. Not the kind the weyrbred children got, even. When he went to his first classes, when he studied the classmates around him, and he looked at how well some of the other Candidates could read, well… he realized if he wanted to be a Smith, he’d have to re-study his letters, his reading, master writing so that it was more legible than scratches. So there he was, painstakingly copying over from more advanced books he’d asked a teaching Harper for.

“Hi Jelantos,” he said when the older boy appeared in front of him.

“Hello.” Jelantos greeted. “I volunteered you to help me wash a dragon. If you wanted.” He added. “Their rider is hurt and a friend asked me for help.”

“A dragon? Wash one? Really?” He’d met Indith after asking V’tian about it, but it was one thing to meet your sibling’s dragon and one thing to see the Weyrlingmaster’s dragon in classes and another to get to see one up close. Viantico practically knocked his chair backwards with how fast he stood up. “I don’t mind at all, let’s go!”

Jelantos led the way back out to V'rel.

V’rel’s expression brightened slightly when he saw Jelantos’ choice. He recognized the lad. “I know you. You’re the one T’lin Searched. V’tian’s your brother. You’re the enthusiastic one, uhm…”

“Viantico!” the Candidate supplied eagerly.

“Right, Viantico. Jelantos says that you’re going to help him out in taking care of my father’s dragon. Please don’t fall over when you hear that your assignment is the Weyrsecond’s bronze,” V’rel said, with a hint of a smile.

“You’re going to trust me with such a big responsibility?” Viantico gasped.

“I trust Jelantos, and he recommended you, so yes.”

“What happened, and what do you need to do? Is just his rider injured or is he injured?”

“They both got struck by lightning today, during Threadfall. My father took the brunt of it, but Volaith took some of it as well. It seems to affect dragons differently from people, and I don’t know if there will be anything long-term from it. The dragonhealers will let me know if there’s anything very wrong. His muscles are slow and stiff right now and he might need you to be more agile around him, compared to a younger dragon who can be flexible.”

V’rel looked over at Jelantos in case he had any questions as well.

“We'll wash him well.” Jelantos promised, and stood taller. “Volaith will look like one of the best kept dragons in the Weyr.”

“You have no idea how much we will all appreciate that,” V’rel said gratefully. “I’ll talk to the Weyrlingstaff about it as well, see if I can charm R’lor into counting this as your chores for a bit to make it easier on your free time. Want to come along now and get to meet him with an interpreter?”

“Chores are important.” Jelantos said, uncertain, then nodded. “I'll come along. Though if he says no, I'll do all my chores and Volaith too.”

Last updated on the October 28th 2025

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Help A Guy Out