All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyright © Anne McCaffrey 1967,2000, all rights reserved, and used by permission of the author. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with permission. Use or reproduction without a license is strictly prohibited. For more information, visit the Worlds of Anne McCaffrey.

15-11-01: Post Flight Stress
After Ahreluth caught Eunith, G'wain's a little worried -- and Lydiere's not really all that much use.

You head down the stairs to the beach.

G'wain is sitting on the beach, nice and dry. He's watching Ahreluth have a frolic in the waves, just like a little dog playing. Grinning at his dragon he shakes his head a little and looks down, arms looped around his legs, which are pulled close to his chest. Silly dragon.

"I should rightfully banish the pair of you to the barracks, now," calls Lydiere, as she strides down the steps, onto the beach, toward G'wain. "Until graduation. Bravo, well done - looks as though our little conversation was hardly necessary, hm?" She grins, ruefully, as she adds, "How're you feeling, G'wain? How's Ahreluth?" Rumours fly.

G'wain wants to bury his head in the sand, freezing as he hears that voice. He knows that voice. "Good afternoon to you also, Lydiere..." He's not feeling so good watching the dragon playing in the waves. Actually, Ahreluth's stopped playing in the waves. He only plays when there aren't any people watching... G'wain turns his head to look at Lydiere, and bites his lip. "Well... I wouldn't object. Stop getting me into trouble, wouldn't it?" Suppose he could find trouble anywhere, though. And since one cat is out of the bag, he should let the other out too. "It was, actually. That night..." He trails off. Not telling who. Nah-uh.

Lydiere's eyes roll, as she moves to sit beside G'wain - at a companionable distance, of course, her legs outstretched in front of her, posture nonetheless straight. "I suppose it would," she accepts, sinking into a brief sigh. "At least, for a little while." She pauses, her head tilted to the side, expression serious, although her lips twitch with amusement. "Oh, I see. Breaking weyrling rules, mmm? Don't tell me that officially, or I'll be obliged..." She trails off.

G'wain bites his lip and again looks at Lydiere. "Did I say that anything was official?" Mood swinging to a little more angry, he's stressed over something. "Now I have to go to... one person, then to J'ran..." He sighs, and isn't looking forward to /that/ conversation. "Not like I could do anything to stop him." G'wain pouts.

"Of course you didn't - and nor did I," retorts Lydiere, perhaps sharper than she intended. "What do you mean?" she adds, face shifting in slight confusion. "Talking to J'ran, I can understand--but then again, it was just a flight, so he can't hold it against you. Even Ly'ette didn't hold W'yn against me." And the faintest of blushes tinges her cheeks - perhaps there's reason as to why she should. "No, that's quite true."

Naya walks out of Dolphin Cove.

G'wain sighs softly and looks at the sand between his legs again. "I have to talk to J'ran at least..." He seems to feel obligated in some way. "Maxanth didn't even show, and he's done something with..." He breaks off abruptly, and looks back to Lydiere. this time, there's hurt in his eyes. Maybe it wasn't Ahreluth who would be the one who didn't understand... "It was the dragons... right..." He closes his eyes and rests his head on his knees.

"Dragons aren't always caught by their weyrmates," stresses Lydiere. "Maxanth didn't show, because maybe he was busy. That happens - it's altogether normal. Talk to him, feel sorry, if you want, but it's not a big deal. Wasn't *your* fault." She digs her feet into the toes, elongating her legs further, although her expression indicates increased--if not pity, then empathy. "Is it something more, that's bothering you?"

Naya comes strolling down the steps to the beach, pausing as she realizes there are other people on the beach ... and it looks like it just might be a private conversation. Maybe she should go back? She hesitates on the last step, torn.

G'wain's voice sounds exasperated, and is probably audible from the bottom step. "I don't /know/." Maybe he just needs time to get over it all, or something. He may look a man, sound a man, but he isn't a man in his mentality. Well, most of it, anyway. "It wasn't my fault..." He echoes and sighs again. "I don't know... I could have tried to stop Ahreluth..."

Lydiere shakes her head. "No, you couldn't have. -- get used to it, G'wain. It happened, you can't change it, and that's that." Mild exhasperation tinges at her tone, as she gazes across over the beach, and catches a glimpse of Naya, through the corner of her eye. Her head nods, shortly, a half-smile of greeting sent towards the girl. Come on over.

Ah, but there's a voice she knows, and now she couldn't leave even if she wanted to. Lydiere's nod and smile of greeting are returned, and Naya accepts the invitation implicit in them. Boots crunching through the sand, she crosses over, settling at G'wain's other side. As she starts stripping off her boots, she adds her own reassurances--Is this some new boldness? Speaking before spoken to? Even still, her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. "I heard," she starts, meaning both about the Flight and part of this conversation. "G'wain, it isn't anyone's fault. There's nothing ... nothing wrong about what happened."

G'wain is looking at the sand again, not even noticing that there's anyone else. That is, until the dragon sitting in the surf bugles a greeting. He seems happy. G'wain looks up, and not seeing anyone immediately, he looks back down. But there's that voice... And horror fills his eyes as he looks up. He's holdbred. That explains it. "N...Naya..." Stumbling over her name is probably a good indication of that... person... he spoke about earlier. "I-.. I'm sorry... I didn't ask him to."

"Faranth's arse," swears Lydiere, glaring at G'wain. "Naya just said that she didn't mind. I give up on you, I really do." She jumps to her feet, a glance of sympathy towards the other girl, as she comments, "Maybe you'll have mor eluck with him than I; I don't think he wants to listen to me, no matter what." She glares at G'wain, then stalks off. Well - someone has a short rope tonight.

You climb up the stairs and back onto the plateau.