Survival and sacrifices

With Br'son and Teagan in her office, Sidran had no qualms leading her wingleaders to the Weyrsenior's office, nor did she hesitate to turn and lean against the desk, gesturing that they could sit or stand as they chose.

"I'm not going to change your mind," she said to Casriel, "or make this all better," to Jah'vi, "so there's this. All but four of the traditional dragons left are Maraxith's or Gaveth's. There are less than seventy of us left. We, with all our arguing, couldn't change the mind of the Eastern Leaders. Firene couldn't. How could any of them? Even if we repaid the favor and kicked them back out again - where would they go? To die?"

She looked, as she often did, completely at ease. As though this couldn't remotely bother her. But there was tension, real tension, in her tone that she couldn't clear entirely. Perhaps because Gaveth was awash with rage in her head. Perhaps because she had come to feel this, deeply, over the last months since the Eastern arrivals. Or both.

"We are on a knife's edge, and survival - of dragonkind," of apparently the entire Northern Continent, "means all of us together. Means sacrifices. Means not starting fights in front of baby queenriders. Means acting like Wingleaders all the flaming time, even when it's upsetting."

Oh yes. There was no hiding the tension in her tone.

"I've done nothing but work my arse off to help since I arrived," Jah'vi said through gritted teeth. He hadn't sat, either, choosing instead to shove his hands in the pockets of his jacket. The worry stone felt like it might snap under his hand. "Nothing has been handed to me," he said, shooting a dark glare at Casriel. "You may have been exiled, but you weren't the only ones treated differently. And you certainly didn't hold what was left of Eastern, the rest of the outcasts, together when dragons were dying left and right. We had no idea if we were going to be the next to die." He turned on his heel, pacing to one end of the office before spinning and facing them again. "Even if part of my job is to integrate Eastern into White Lightning, it doesn't mean I didn't earn it. Just because you're so filled with your own self importance, and determined to make yourself a martyr, doesn't mean the rest of us have had an easy go of it."

"That," Sidran said flatly, "is exactly why I named you my Second." It bore saying, for both of them to hear.

Casriel eased herself into the chair and lightly lifted one toned leg to settle in upon the other. It pleased her to see Jah'vi frothing with rage and pacing like a wild feline. It seemed to her that one of her verbal barbs, if not all of them, had found their mark and drawn proverbial blood. She had allowed her own outrage to settle into a warm, bubbling pool at the bottom of her belly and the cool, watchful presence of Maraxith soothed her spirit.  

"A lapse in judgement that I don't intend to make again, Weyrleader." Casriel told Sidran. "We have important business to attend to; personal matters must be put aside for Pern's survival."

Casriel met Sidran's eyes as she spoke and did not respond to Jah'vis words about Eastern. They would have been there to help manage things if Eastern hadn't cast them out. Just a sevenday after Garrah and Parazath had been lost, no empathy for the grief that gripped them, no time to process that the first Titanium queen was gone forever, her magnificent rider with her, and only a young Titanium to lead them forward.

Jah'vi looked incredulously at the other Wingleader, that smugness about her making him want to scream and rip his hair out.

What happened was not your fault, Nolinth said soothingly, before Jah'vi even realized his mind was drifting towards the guilt he kept hidden deep inside. He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. Nolinth was right, of course. But looking at the cobalt rider now, he knew that in her eyes at least, it was his fault.

He still remembered the angry blows she'd rained down on him while the dragons keened.

Finally he shook his head and threw his hands up in the air, signaling he was done with the matter as well. Perhaps he could go with Teagan and whoever else, he thought bitterly. Several Turns away from Casriel sounded good right about now.

Deep down, Sidran wanted to roll her eyes. Just a little. She had never been accused of being...light on ego, but this. This!

Hurt feelings and arrogance and cobalts and bronzes. What had she expected, really?

"Personal matters must be set aside for Pern's survival. And ours." She echoed Casriel with an edge to her tone. "Casriel, you have night watch for the rest of the sevenday. Jah'vi, you have dawn sweeps for Tarza. If I hear anything from either of you, if you continue in this pitting against each other, I have no qualms about sending you to sit watch for the northern weyrs."

Lonely and beyond spiraling depression, watching the last of the northern dragons...fade.

'Oh, you'll hear nothing from me. Less from him, if desires become flesh and fact.' Casriel thought but her face betrayed none of that inner dialog. She simply nodded and tucking a gold curl behind on ear, said "Yes, Weyrleader."

She would have to shift her schedule but it was nothing she couldn't do. She wouldn't give the sharding bronze rider the satisfaction of Sidran sending her North to watch the last of the old generations die off. She wouldn't put Maraxith through that, nor Victory.

'Nor will I leave and risk your Nolinth flying Yllaveth.' she thought. No, that would not do. She would rather lose out to Sidran, Cosenne, N'set, D'kan, R'fariel or any other male than Jah'vi and his bronze.

Jah'vi paled a bit at the mention of being sent North. He couldn't watch another Weyr die. His throat was dry as he repeated Casriel, more than happy to do early sweeps if that meant being sent North was kept out of the equation.

He wasn't even thinking about his plans to be Weyrleader being dashed. But the thought of watching another sick and dying Weyr.. a visible shudder ran down his spine.

Nolinth crooned to him, reminding him that was all over now. He took a deep, ragged breath, unaware of how loud it was until it seemed to echo in the silence. No, he would definitely stay in his formation. Never another Eastern.

Never.

Never make a threat you're not prepared to enforce - she'd learned that lesson early, from her mother. And while she hoped she wouldn't have to...

A sharp nod, and she said only, "Dismissed." For now, it would have to do.