I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

Writers: Anaria
Date Posted: 22nd March 2011

Characters: Mardria, Qatan
Description: Qatan awakens, and Mardria has to figure out how to handle him.
Location: River Bluff Weyr
Date: month 13, day 18 of Turn 5

Black. Blacker. Blackest. Cough thrice and the emptiness is gone. No
more cold. No more dark. No more lonely fear.

1...2...3... that was peculiar. It should be done by now. What had
gone wrong? Were they lost /between/?

How did that old song go? It seemed like turns since he'd heard it.
"Black, Blacker, Blackest/ And Cold beyond frozen things/ Where is
/between/ when there is naught/ To Life but fragile dragon wings."

That was right. Dragon wings. Iskafeth! He'd know where they were.

**Iska...** he started to reach out. Waitaminute. In the space where
Iskafeth once resided, there was now nothing. A deep, downward spiral
into nothingness.

**There's a way out. There's a way to overcome the darkness,** a
darker voice in his head said. **Iskafeth is gone, he would want you
to join him.**

That's right. Iskafeth _was_ gone. That was the reason for the
darkness. It _would_ be so easy to join him...

"Qatan..." the voice came from the distance. Female, although not
someone he was intimately familiar with. "Qatan, you're having a
nightmare, wake up."

As his eyes snapped open, the source of the voice - a greenrider his
father was once involved with - appeared. She looked frightened,
despite being larger that Qatan. What in Faranth's name could possibly
be more frightening than losing one's dragon!?

Mardria flinched despite herself. When Qatan's eyes opened, they
weren't the warm, inviting brown so similar to his father's. Instead,
they were cold, dark and nearly pitch black. The eyes of someone who'd
seen far more than he could handle.

"Iskafeth..." the name came out a harsh, broken whisper. Maybe he was
just sleeping deeply. Maybe the healers had saved him after all.

"I'm so sorry Qatan..." Mardria said, her sides shaking as she fought
to hold back the sobs that threatened to consume her.

Qatan glared. He had been an angry, violent youth, and Iskafeth often
had prevented him from lashing out when he shouldn't. "Sorry," he
hissed from between clenched teeth. "How can you possibly feel sorry
for something you can't even begin to understand?"

Mardria's lip began to tremble. She'd been helping teach candidates
and weyrlings since she was a young rider. She had told them over and
over the dangers of losing ones dragons. The potential that you'd
slowly lose your mind, or succumb to addictions or suicide. Most chose
the latter option. It was easiest. "Your life isn't over just because
Iskafeth is gone," she said, trying to be reassuring.

"Is that what you told my father? After his dragon died, while he lay
abed in the Infirmary and you cavorted with younger men!?" Qatan
demanded. "I don't _want_ sympathy, certainly not sympathy from a
sycophant like you. Don't you dare think for even a moment that you
can make yourself feel better about what you did to him by looking out
for me!"

Mardria's breathing quickened, and she stepped back instinctively.
She'd been around when other dragonless had awoke. She knew every one
was different, but this was entirely unexpected. "I didn't mean to
abandon your father, I just couldn't stand to see him like that," she
tried to explain.

"You mean like this?!" He asked, leaping from the bed with unexpected
force. He swayed dangerously for a moment before catching his balance.
"WHY are you here?" He demanded. "What difference does it make whether
I live or die?" He reached to his waist where his belt knife should
be, then realized that they had taken it from him.

"Because you're the only one I have left!" Mardria yelled back. By
now, a few healers had heard the commotion, and were coming over to
provide aid. "I've lost three weyrmates, and two sons, Qatan. You're
the closest thing to kin that I have anymore."

Several of the healers moved in, grabbing Qatan to prevent him from
taking any hostile action. Qatan glared at one of the men. "I'm not
going to hurt anyone and I'm not going to end my own life either. Not
now, at least," he hissed, shaking his head. The healers eased him
back down onto the bed, and an apprentice approached with a cup.

"What is that?" Qatan said, as the apprentice tried to get him to drink.

"Just a bit of fellis," the apprentice explained.

"It's no mercy-draught?" He asked accusingly.

"No, just fellis and wine" the apprentice said, a bit shakily.

Qatan took the cup, drank it quickly, and then settled down onto the
cot. The dosage must have been high as he quickly felt his eyes begin
to droop.

"Greenrider, are you going to be alright?" One of the healers asked.

Mardria nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine," she said. "I think I can handle
him while he's sleeping. That's for the assistance though."

Once the healers had left them alone again, Qatan shook his head.
"Don't pretend you're alone. You know nothing of the word," he said,
before falling back into slumber.

Mardria sighed, settling back into her seat. **I wish I knew that I
was doing the right thing...** she thought to herself.

Last updated on the April 27th 2011

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I'm Not Okay (I Promise)