[PRP] Tear in my heart (Rahmsii, Tuelarua, Palouseth)

[Prism Shine]

Heavy wingbeats echoed in the stone Weyr, heavy and silent as compared to how Palouseth usually made some noise -- to see if Rahmsii was in, to call the firelizards to her. Today? Today she was silent, except for the gentle, whining keel at the end of her every breath, the ache and labor of her lungs from her mourning as well as her numbed injuries. Her eyes were maelstroms of grey, for it was the first loss of a sibling; the first of many, for threadfall would be ever aching, ever taking from them all. Had the doubleclutch not also suffered such great losses, despite having barely two turns to them?

Tuelarua very gently slid from Palouseth’s back, detaching the riding straps from across her barrel. At least her beloved’s injuries weren’t that bad -- and Tuela’s own injuries had been not severe enough to warrant a stay. They’d been seen to, bandaged, and sent on their way. Yet they’d been in the infirmary when Spavineth was suddenly gone, and L’ser in that same instance. Gone, gone. Her small faire had wanted to come comfort them, yet she could only send them away -- the infirmary was crowded enough without her flits causing a commotion. Yet now… Now she craved their attention, comfort.

Slipping her riding jacket off carefully, Tuela winced as it pulled over a stretch of skin -- burned by ash, but not numbed anymore. It’s hung by almost wooden movements, her fingers lingering on the leather as she recalled such a harrowing experience in the air. Had she paid attention more, maybe she could have seen her classmate in trouble, been able to see….

Yet as Palouseth, aching though she was with loss and grief, watched her rider, she reached out tentatively to one who could maybe help. ... Rahmsii? She couldn’t quite tell if he was close, or far. She was just so tired, so aching in a way that numbweed would never touch.

Spockat

 

[Spockat]

Rahmsii wasn’t such a fool where he expected his Tuela, and her Palouseth to come home unscathed. Such was the way of Pern, the way of dragons. He did his best to help, as all candidates did with threadfall. Gathering supplies, ripping bandages. When there was no more for him to do expect to wait, and hope the worst of news doesn’t find him he filled his times with useless distractions that he could only stare vacantly at. His knuckles aching from worrying at them after Sky had betweened miserable to him. Hiding in his hair with the rest of her flaire screeching alongside of Blood and Bimble, and only hushed when they picked apart the end of their forgotten breakfast.

He did his best to soothe the sensitive flitter, a poor substitute for their mother. He felt the creature relax on his shoulder hearing their door swing open - the gentle words of a darling green. “On my way Palouseth dear,” he said gently. He was hardly far, waiting where he knew he could be found. Just in case. He lingered at doorframe, watching Tuela move in such a dejected way they he hadn’t known in her. Only heard in traded hushed secrets. Oh.. something horrible had happened. Palouseth seemed alright, not panicked… and Tuelarua well enough to come home. “I’m here,” he says softly - as to not startle her.

Prism Shine

 

[Prism Shine]

There's a small curl in her dim eyes, a flicker of a happier blue in the midst of a foggy grey. But it's gone is a flash, like a strike of hot lightning in the far distance. No, Palouseth is tired, but she can try to take care of her rider best she can -- like the brave green has always tried to do.

She'd known Palouseth would reach out to Rahmsii, for Palouseth was so kind, so gentle, so perceptive. Her darling who was so exhausted, aching, and mourning. Tuela's fingers tightened on her jacket, hearing his soft tone, and for a brief moment, she's scared to face him. Her facade was trying to crack and splinter; a veneer she'd painted turns ago wanting to crack and shatter under such pressure. Her arm is bandaged from her elbow down to between each of her fingers, and she stares at the bandages until the immediate threat of tears backs down.

"L'ser and Spavineth passed away." Her tone is soft, fragile. She wants to cry, so terribly -- she has since she heard the bone-rattling keen around her, shook her bones even while she was down in the infirmary. "We flew second wave, and they were in first, but..." Her voice cracks, and Tuela clenched her teeth as her voice threatened to give out. Finally, finally, she turned to look at Rahmsii, unable to keep more than a crumbling brick or two of the ruins of her happy-go-lucky facade in place. You only lived once.... But her fellow pair had barely lived at all. "We couldn't.. do anything..."

And yet, here was her mate, and there's a brief moment where she's selfishly thankful he hadn't impressed -- not yet. No, she wanted her beloved to find his other half, to experience that blissful moment of impression just as she had with Palouseth almost an entire turn ago. But for the moment? One piece of her world was safe, buried under stone where thread couldn't get to him.

Spockat

 

[Spockat]

Rahmsii could never imagine the pain that those two were going through. Not for such a sweet (no longer small!), Palouseth to hear the painful last echo of a sibling. Nor for Tuela to lose someone she had been training with for so long, and come to rely on so heavily. The loss of his mother was still a stone in the pit of his stomach, a healed over wound. But her sickness, old age - that was expected. L’ser was young so young, and Spavineth’s life had just began. Rahmsii, did not try to fathom or compare, so much as open his arms wide and closed the distance between them. Welcoming her into a solid embrace if she needed to be held up if the world wanted to crumble beneath her.


“Very sorry to hear it,” He whispered against her hair. What does one even say? He was... no good with words. Even less in matters such as this. Hopefully the tight embrace, the slight shake full of relief for Palouseth and her Tuelarue for escaping such a fate together. Oh, how easily it could have been the two he cares for the most. Perhaps his eyes were damp, or perhaps not - his face was too pressed to his mate’s hair. “They had so much more to offer this life. Is it on your heart to talk about them? I’m listening, always.”

His hands find the bandage on her arm, and he gently pulls away to inspect it. “Are you quite alright?” His tone implying her injury certainly, as well as what was weighing on her mind. “Can I help with it?”

Prism Shine

KARATE chopped