Re: We Have to Stick Together (Ay'shen/Ambrelli)


OOC: Filling in the details as best I can since I wasn't around for after the R took everything down.

"That's got to be hard on him.  Dragons are not meant to be on their own."  She shook her head.  Dragons were not cruel on their own, but they fed off of their riders, and poor Ohselth was suffering because of that.  That was not fair...and not a situation she could heal or remedy in any way.  She took a deep swig of her wine, draining the cup and pouring herself a second.  It took her a minute to compose herself, absently playing with a brown curl as she thought about where to start.

At the beginning she guessed.

"You only knew me as a dragonhealer at Fort, but I was born here.  Loving parents, good memories.  My father was a bronzerider, and I grew up playing on Ranth.  So I didn't grow up hating bronzeriders or golds at all.  Quite the opposite.  I saw how amazing leadership could be, how great and noble my father was, how Ranth was.  Until there was a raid on Arolos and they were killed.  My mother too, dying to protect a weyrling.  They died heroes.  But they died.  After they died, I was so...angry at the world, at everything and everyone.  I railed against the injustice of it all."  She stopped for a moment, the memories flooding over her and she shuddered before taking another sip.  

"I learned about Fort, about how terrible it was up there for those who were seen as lesser, and the injustice of that was something I could understand and believe in.  My parents died protecting those who were lesser than them like a weyrling.  They gave their lives to protect others.  So I gave myself to the Resistance.  And I was so angry, and at least that gave me something, somewhere, to put that anger.  I knew someone there, and they got me into the Weyr.  I was already a dragonhealer here, so it wasn't hard to put my skills to use up there.  I learned the Fortian accent a little, so I wouldn't stick out as Arolosian at the least.  And I joined a cause that I thought was going to protect people.  That's still what I thought when I had my missions with you, that we were on the side of the heroes.  I gave so much to the cause, and gave up so much for it, because I thought I was avenging my parents and making them proud."  Another long sip of wine.  She needed it, because up until that point, she was the idealistic child playing at wooden swords.  She couldn't escape what followed.

"They didn't tell me about the Massacre.  I had become lovers with a bronzerider, one that I could get information out of that was useful.  He was decent, kind enough to me, even if he thought he owned me.  I was good at playing roles you see, I still am.  It's a hard habit to break...." another sip.  The words were coming more freely now.  "There was a dragon emergency I got called down to the Infirmary for, and I'd been there for candlemarks.  That's when the killing started."  She looked at her hands, tears streaming down her face.  "I had just spent candlemarks working on a Scored bronze, trying to save his wing so he could fly again when they killed his rider.  The panic, I could see it in his eyes before I knew what was going on.  And that sound, that keening he made as he realized what was happening.  He tried...." she was openly crying now.  "He tried to get up, to go to his rider, but he couldn't.  He broke his wing trying, like a twig snapping in the wind.  Ichor was everywhere from the wounds he inflicted on himself trying to get up; i was covered in it.  He eventually took himself between, but he would have died from his wounds even if his rider had lived.  I hear those screams.  Every night I hear them and a thousand others."  She wiped her cheeks with her sleeve, touching a small scar on her forehead.  The dragon had hit her accidentally in the process, and this was her reminder of his pain.

Another long sip and the cup was empty.  She poured more.  "After that, my job was to patch up the dragons or to keep them sedated while their riders were tortured.  I wasn't drugged or locked up like the other Healers, but I couldn't leave either.  If I refused, I would have been no better off than the healers or killed because I had been Resistance.  So I chose to work willingly, I chose to help them because it made my life easier and I got to live.  I did what I could for the dragons.  I eased their suffering as much as I was able.  I saved a few of them even.  There was still Threadfall, still scoring to be healed, even on the dragons of the worst of the torturers.  I couldn't let the dragons suffer because their humans were terrible.  I did what I thought was the best I could do then.  And because I played complacent, I could do more than I could have otherwise.  At least, that's what I tell myself when the nightmares flood over me."  She looked up at Ay'shen, anger and hatred filling her eyes, the hazel flecks in the blue fields flashing.  "I hate the Resistance with every fiber of my being.  They took what was supposed to be noble cause, what should have been a fight to protect others and turned it into something dark and twisted.  And I became something dark and twisted along with it."  She didn't wipe away the tears this time. 

"I stayed even after the Hall ransomed the other Healers back.  There were still dragons, still a need for them to be healed.  At that point, I think I stayed because I was more scared of leaving then of staying.  Eventually, some of the riders I still respected left for Igen and I went with them.  The Hall asked a lot of questions, and I lost Turns off my rank.  But they couldn't prove I'd done anything really other than stay and heal dragons.  And there were people who spoke up for me, whose dragons were alive because I was there.  That counted for something I think."  There was a weak smile, as if the last sentence was to reassure herself and not him.  "I stayed there for some Turns, stayed around the only people I knew anymore.  Until eventually I ran out of excuses."

She looked up at him again.  "And I finally came home."  

Join to automatically receive all group messages.