Not Good Enough
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: Clancey
Date Posted: 23rd April 2011
Characters: J'darin
Description: J'darin makes good on his promise to get heavily drunk.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 1, day 23 of Turn 6
Between the talk with Cardella and G'wen earlier and now placing the
graduating Weyrlings with G'nir, J'darin felt completely wrung out
emotionally. The one stiff drink he'd had in G'nir's office had barely
made a dent.
He left G'nir's office with only one thing in mind: to get completely,
heavily drunk beyond his ability to feel anything. He didn't want to feel
worry that some of them might not come back. He didn't want to feel guilt
because he didn't teach them enough. He didn't want to feel anger because
he was sure if he was leading Threadfall, they would all survive. He
didn't want to feel like a monster for teaching them how to die. And in the
middle of it all, he didn't want to feel the way he felt about a greenrider
that was half his age.
Hasaarth was used to the emotions in his rider, but he always tried to talk
him out of it anyway.
}:You will feel sick. :{
**Shutup. I won't feel anything.**
}:You will feel ..hurt. :{
**I will not! I will feel better.**
}:You will have a headache:{
**Maybe, but thats better than this.**
With that last, he tried to shut out Hasaarth for a while. His dragon went
silent but he was sure it wouldn't last, especially if he really started to
lose it.
He went to his weyr and gathered up all the alcohol in his possession, and a
blanket. Two skins of wine was not going to be enough, though, so he went
to N'klar and asked for two more. He knew the bluerider would have some
laying around. N'klar tried very had to get the bronzerider to stay with
him, and drink with someone else, but J'darin knew better. Alone was the
only way. He had to be .. alone. Finally, with a promise to N'klar to
replace the two skins, J'darin took all four and went walking.
He didn't want to go to his weyr. Hasaarth would be there and that would
start the bronze talking again.
Normally, Hasaarth was the thing that saved him. The thing that kept him
sane. Normally his beloved bronze and his charming flit were all he needed
to survive.
But something was off tonight. He was scarred now, not wholly perfect.
What if he wasn't wholly perfect as a Weyrlingmaster? N'vanik hadn't
thought him good enough to do anything but fill a spot in a Wing. Dolphin
Cove itself had gone on just fine without him, and by all reports was doing
much better than it had while he was Weyrleader. T'mahl had thought him
good enough. But what was one voice against all those others?
None of the women he'd loved had thought him good enough to stay with him.
They'd all left him, or he'd left them. He had few friends. He had Oak,
and Hasaarth. Why wasn't he good enough?
What if he wasn't good enough to keep them from dying?
The winter lake would be crowded. It was getting toward evening, and riders
and dragons both might be bathing. He did not want crowds. After some
thought, he found himself walking up the path to the summer lake. Not too
many people would be going there yet, even though it was warming up. People
would be ...bad.
He was surprised to find one skin gone and half another one. Apparently, he
hadn't stopped drinking the entire walk up here.
He found a convenient rock and sat down, leaning against it. It had been
warm and sunny today but now that the sun was going down, it we beginning to
cool off. but if he drank enough, that would be alright.
He didn't think of anything for a while, just emptying the second skin with
his eyes unfocused.
But as always, his mind took off, even under the influence of all the wine.
Visions of weyrlings getting scored and going /between/ filled his head, the
keening of the dragons when one of their own died coming right after the
images. He never forgot the sound, though he supposed no rider ever did.
While he could still think, he made himself remember of all their names and
a quirk of their personality, and then bring their faces to focus.
Smiling, and whooping with joy, the first time they flew.
Fear replaced by pride and exultation the first time they went /between/.
Fear replaced by fierce determination when they faced Thread.
Sadness replaced by serious lines when one of their own fell to their
sky-borne enemy.
The far away looks as understanding what their life as a dragonrider meant
settled around their shoulders.
One after another, the visions and the names flashed in his head.
He would remember them. If they died, he would remember. If they lived,
they would forget him. They always did. None of the weyrlings he'd ever
trained had ever come to him in their adult lives as a friend or with a
need. He trained them, taught them, loved them, scolded them, yelled at
them, pushed them, cared for them, and then ... gave them away.
That is what scared him the most, he thought, about Cardella. She would
forget him too, just like all the others, and he would hope that she was
different, that she would stay his friend, as they had been friends before
she Impressed. But she would grow up, and stretch her wings, and live.
Oh, he wanted her to live! He wanted her to live, to love, to learn, to
grow, even though it cost him her friendship. She wouldn't need him then.
None of them ever did.
But there was always another class, always another group, and always more
Thread to fight.
There was always more to give.
But what if he wasn't good enough to keep giving? To keep loving them and
losing them? What if he was not?
}:We are good enough. We are together. We are perfect. You should stop.
You are hurting yourself. :{
Hasaarth finally broke into his thoughts, past the flimsy barried he'd tried
to put up. The bronze had been trying, no doubt, for some time. He had
lost track of the barrier as he had continued to drink, and unable to shut
out his dragon any longer, the emotions rolled over him. Strong,
passionate, dragon emotions. They undid him, as they always did.
}:We are good enough! We are together! Stop! :{
He swayed against the rock and his eyes closed, the wine skin falling from
his hand.
Hasaarth believed they were good enough.
Why didn't he?
Last updated on the April 29th 2011