we've lost the past but it never leaves us [open]

[Zen]

(( Just a note, this is post-breakout. A sevenday post-breakout. ))

A sevenday had changed nothing. Okay, that was a lie. A lot had changed in a sevenday. A lot was destined to change in a sevenday, no matter what the sevenday was or when it time it was. But nothing had changed for T’ron when it came to searching for the answers. Cabarath had gotten into his head and changed him from the inside out. Now he was thinking about how to better himself in the way of leadership. Especially since no one liked the new change of leadership. Okay, that wasn’t necessarily true, but no one felt particularly safe knowing that M’onk, the old Dragon Watch leader had been chosen to become the new Warden of Warden’s Weyr. Except he wasn’t named ‘Warden’ anymore. T’ron wasn’t sure if that was a conscious decision or if it was a decision made because Warden V’tya had been known as Warden and the man had changed the title to Overseer in honor of him. Perhaps not.

A sevenday, however, had changed nothing. People were still dead. People were still wounded. And there were those who had escaped who had still not been found yet. They were now considered outlaws. Even good-natured Weyrfolk had gone missing in the disaster that followed Iiateth’s flight. And Kuriel… oh, Kuriel. Kuriel had gone with them with her yellow Djith following. Or perhaps Djith had led the way. There was no way to tell, not now, not without talking to her. And T’ron wasn’t about to go trompsing around the outside world with armed prisoners raring for guard blood. He shivered at the thought of him dying and Cabarath keening as he betweened from lack of rider. But Cabarath wouldn’t let it happen. Many, many times after many, many nightmares Cabarath had declared that he would defend T’ron from whatever might befall him.

Therefore, T’ron was going to do something so mind-numbing that if he were ever found out, Cabarath would be crippled and worse.

T’ron had smuggled the needed Records from the mainland with him and with each shipment from the mainland, he had a few people willing to get him some more. Now he sat, tiredly poring over the Records that told about betweening. Yes, betweening. He did not tell any of his fellow Weyrlings. How could he? The new Overseer breathed down the irregular’s backs, at least he seemed to. Perhaps he was just curious—everyone seemed to be when they got there. But it made T’ron even more secretive. He hadn’t even ever mentioned it once to Cabarath. No matter how much Cabarath probed his mind, he’d kept betweening far from his thoughts. He couldn’t let Cabarath tell anyone else, and he had to know that Cabarath was behind him one hundred percent before revealing his plans. He would teach Cabarath to between.

Even more so now, the Grayweyrling knew that he just had to teach the Gray to between. He had to, but he had to do so quietly, skillfully, and without much detection. He sat in the Weyrling’s common area. The Record he was reading now held more about flight than about betweening and it was one of the few that Warden’s had, and he was careful to not stay on the part that spoke about betweening for too long. He pored over the Record, his blue eyes outlined with circles. He hadn’t slept much since the breakout. He’d been torn between nightmares and pure sleeplessness. Reading and working on Weyrling work seemed to be the only respite.

[Spiffy]

Things had been... weird, very weird, since the breakout. With half the guards injured or worse, most of the rest hanging their heads in shame and confusion and anger, a goodly proportion of the prisoners missing, and one of his classmates with them, weird didn't really even start to describe things at Wardens.

Except it wasn't Warden's now, was it?

Warden was dead. J'thir hadn't been all that keen on the man, but at least he had understood him to a degree. He certainly didn't like the Overseer. Smiley people, especially those in power, were never to be trusted. He'd had that drilled into him from an early age. If it looks too good to be true, it probably is. Along with the old never judge a book by it's cover. He had a nasty suspicion that M'onk's covers were tightly bound and locked with a key.

And then there had been the breakout itself, which had thrown the greyrider so akilter that he was going to steer his mind far away from that thought...

He cast around for something to distract his derailing mind, spotting T'ron in the distance. Deciding there was nothing better to do (and suddenly curious as to what he could have found to read about) he tiptoed his way over. Well, he didn't actually tiptoe, but he was well practiced at walking quietly by then, so it came to the same effect.

He didn't really know T'ron that well, even after over a turn of training with him. He knew enough of the man to now that if he were in the mind for leading their little group astray, the man would be a challenge. So, a possible challenge, even if taking over the rag-tag little bunch of Weyrlings couldn't have been further from his mind at the time. In any case, he should have investigated him a little closer by now.

"Found anything interesting, or is that one more mite ridden than useful?" he asked, coming up behind T'ron and giving the record a quick glance over the man's shoulder, skim reading. Ooh flight. Like they hadn't read up about that enough already.

[Zen]

T’ron didn’t hear him approaching. It was slightly disconcerting that a fellow Weyrling could come up behind him without being heard. He blinked up at the man, his eyebrows raised in a question. “Didn’t see you there, J’thir.” He said instead of asking his question. He didn’t close the Record. There was no need; J’thir hadn’t asked about anything off-kilter yet.

“This?” He asked, holding up the Record, “A bit of light reading, you can say.” He lied easily as he looked back at the Record. “Cabarath wants to learn more complicated maneuvers in the air. I told him we both needed to study actually flying before trying anything new.”

Cabarath grumbled, I did not. Why are you lying? Cabarath’s mind was fuzzy with alienation. He was getting fed up with T’ron’s secrets. He wanted to know. I will tell him you’re lying. Cabarath tried to soothe into T’ron’s mind. The truth was that Cabarath would never do anything like that because he was too afraid of what T’ron might do. Cabarath lived to please T’ron and everyone knew that.

‘I’ll tell you in good time. I can’t trust that you won’t tell what I’m going to do.’ T’ron told his dragon, who humphed. But T’ron never kept secrets! Why was this one so special that he had to keep it a secret from even him? Cabarath couldn’t see what T’ron was hiding, but Cabarath knew it was something he should be patient about. It would be something huge.

“What are you doing today, J’thir?” He asked questioningly, wondering why the other grayweyrling had snuck up on him.

[Spiffy]

He replied to the statement with a wry grin, quickly lost, though weyrling wasn't all that bothered that his question hadn't been answered. He'd made his presence known, it'd served it's purpose.

"Oh aye," he said as T'ron began to explain. "Well at his size I should think he should be able to pull it off fairly well. He looks to be an excellent flier already." Only slight flattery going on there, for Caberath was indeed a good flier, though of course so was Golith, at least to J'thir's eyes. The smaller grey may not be quite as agile, surprisingly, as his larger brother, due in part to the size of his wings, but he could certainly fly for longer.

Speaking of expert fliers, trust Lily to appear just then. The young bronze betweened in on a puff of cold air behind his human, before draping himself on J'thir's shoulder, upside down, looking curiously up at his. When J'thir didn't look at him, instead only reaching up to give his tummy a quick tickle, the flowery bronze flipped himself off of his shoulder and settled on the table, staring down at the record just as His was, chirping in curiosity as he pawed at it. What was this? It was obviously interesting, for His was reading it!

"Oh you know, thought I'd get a bit of lunch, maybe oil Golly, relax with some crackdust and then maybe go and catch an outlaw, if I feel like it," he said, deadpan. Of course he wasn't going to go back on dust, he was glad he'd gotten off of the stuff, and he wasn't crazy enough to set off after a bunch of murderous prisoners with a half-grown dragon. He shrugged.

Then he looked at the part of the record that his flitt was pawing at. He almost snorted derisively. Between?, ha! Like Warden's would ever let him see that, short of maybe chucking him in for misbehaving. The overseer certainly wouldn-- oh hello, what was this? he thought, reading on a little further. He leaned in around T'ron, leaning on a corner of the record on the table with his hand.

"Instructions?" he muttered under his breath, confused. Where had T'ron gotten this?

[Zen]

J’thir’s mention of crackdust split his face into a smile. “Oh, crackdust. I’d like some of that right now.” He mentioned, flicking his hand in the air nonchalantly. Of course everyone knew that T’ron had not been a prisoner—he was not forced to wear yellow to differentiate—and he’d never even tried crackdust. He probably never would. He couldn’t, not now with Cab. He couldn’t do that to his gray.

The small bronze firelizard, Lily, was joined quickly by T’ron’s own firelizard, Red Briar. His other two firelizards, Bitmap and Rorschach, were both with Cab, Bit having recently found Cabarath to be more interesting than he had previously been and Rory because the gold always followed the blue around. Red Briar fairly attached himself to the strange-colored bronze’s side, staring at what he stared at. Briar’s red-tinted brown contrasted sharply with Lily’s greenish-bronze coloring. He chirped curiously, blinking at what Lily was looking at.

The older Weyrling had leaned in closer and T’ron shifted to one side to allow him to review the Record. Suddenly he realized that this is what he wanted; he wanted someone to be in on it with him. He was doing an act that might cripple Cabarath if anyone found out. A grin slid slowly across his face. “Exactly. Shield your mind from Golith. Dragons are talkative, and we can’t have this getting around. Not yet.”

Cabarath was the biggest talker. But he was slowly coming around. He was slowly realizing that he needed to believe in what T’ron was doing was really good. It would advance them higher in the ranks of the Weyr. T’ron would be the Overseer! That thought filled T’ron’s mind easily and Cabarath, who was trying to listen in, was immediately satiated. Yes, a higher rank. This was wonderful. Of course, the thought of becoming the leader of Warden’s was just a ruse, a faux hope that T’ron pushed into his mind. But it was enough to keep Cab quiet.

[Spiffy]

Lily nudged the brown when he appeared, chirping back in greeting. Another flitt! Maybe Red Briar wanted to play with him?

J'thir was a deal less enthusiastic about the appearance of the flitt. He ignored the brown completely, in fact. His brain was too busy processing what this meant. None of them were being taught betweening, except that brownrider. He'd known for a long time that they'd not teach him, it'd been announced almost from the word go that the prisoner weyrlings would not be taught how to between. And then the announcement that those with new colour dragons would not be taught either had put him doubly out of action. The ruling had even put T'ron, weyr guard, strictly off limits to it.

And yet here T'ron was, reading instructions on how exactly to between. Disobeying the rules of Warden's. Disobeying a rule which could easily get his dragon crippled. And seemed... he was bloody grinning about it, for Faranth's sake!

"And when exactly were you planning on announcing this to the world?" he asked, for no particular reason other than wonder at how T'ron could be being so bloody stupid.

And then he reaised that T'ron had said 'we'. Oh, oh great! Now I'm in on this too, huh?! Well that's bloody great, get someone else's dragon crippled while you're at it! Don't even bother trying to keep it from me.

But then if T'ron had hidden the record, would J'thir have left it at that?

No, he'd've found a way to get a look at it, dropping himself neatly back to where he was now.

Quickly blocking his mind from Golith - who was asleep anyway, thankfully - he slid into a chair that conveniently happened to be within falling-into distance from his butt, hissing slightly as the jolt aggravated his wound.

"T'ron, do you even realise what you're getting yourself into by even reading this? You could get your dragon crippled, Caberath crippled. In fact, I should turn you in right now, save Golith's skin too!"

He didn't say any more, though he could've. Doubt was nagging at the back of his mind. He wouldn't grass, would he? He'd been raised as an outlaw, there was no higher insult than to sell out your band and friends. And who knew what he could do if he could between. His mind flashed back to his daughter.

Arya.

[Zen]

“Announcing to the world?” T’ron echoed with a frown, “Not ever. I will never tell the higher ups what I’ve decided to do.”

How could he? He couldn’t even start to tell his own dragon for fear that what he was doing would react so harshly with Cabarath that the gray would announce it to the world. The last thing he wanted was his precious gray becoming crippled for something he was (not-so-innocently) learning. Of course, he hadn’t ever thought that he’d harm himself or his dragon for even researching how to between, but in the end he realized that everything could potentially harm his precious gray.

Except he wouldn’t hurt Cabarath. He wouldn’t at all because no one would find out. He didn’t know if he could trust J’thir, but he knew that J’thir at least found this a little interesting. He would be able to between if he learned this. And then their grays were going to be able to do something that no prisoner (and non-prisoner) new-colored dragons had done before in this Weyr!

“Don’t you want to know?” T’ron asked, his blue eyes imploring as he noted J’thir’s interest despite the man’s misgivings. “I never said you had to join. I said ‘we’ because I thought you were interested. It doesn’t have to be a team effort but I’d like it to be. Not so that I can rat you out if I were ever to get caught—I’d hope that you’d trusted me enough to know that I’m not like that.”

Except he had no idea if J’thir knew that or not. He didn’t question further, though, of course. J’thir was older than him… he had led more of a life and knew more than T’ron did. There was no doubt about that.

[Spiffy]

"Hh, you sound like you're actually going to go ahead with this," J'thir stated, a little incredulously. Only a little. In voice anyway: his mind was reeling.

T'ron kept talking. The guy really did sound serious about this. And he was trying to convince J'thir to do it too. Ha, he made it sound harmless, even. If only J'thir knew it wasn't so. And even if the Overseer didn't find out, there was a high chance that without an experienced rider to talk them through it they'd do what a lot of inexperienced Weyrlings did on their first betweening lesson and get themselves lost, never to come back. He didn't exactly want that either. This was a veeeeery big risk T'ron was proposing they take, not something that he could make up his mind about on the spot. And even if he did decided against it, he could almost feel the knowledge burning a hole in his brain already.

Besides, he still didn't know T'ron well enough to know that he wouldn't rat him out if he were ever caught at it, whether he joined in or no. Growing up around criminals and good-for-naughts taught you against trusting people to anything, especially their word.

"I don't know, T'ron. This is an awefully big risk with a lot of things that could go wrong." He stood up then, paused, then began to head for the doorway. "You can have your harebrained scheme if you want, I'm not gonna stop you. But for now, I want no part in this." He left it at that.

[Zen]

T'ron blinked at J'thir as he stood. With a slow blink, he realized that J'thir wasn't going to follow him. Oh well, he'd tried. And he was trying. He had barely scratched the surface of learning to between, but he was farther along than the others. Shards, he didn't even think the others were even thinking about anything like this. He didn't want to drag them in if they didn't want to be dragged in with him.

"I completely understand." T'ron said, his eyes glassed with no emotion. He watched J'thir walk away. 'As long as you don't tell...' He thought, not adding the thoughts into speech.

J'thir wouldn't tell. He might think about it, but he wouldn't tell. Not if he knew what might have been good for him. If anything was good for him, it was him not telling. Or perhaps it was good for him to tell. T'ron wouldn't know. At least if Cabarath wasn't crippled then he knew J'thir hadn't told... or wouldn't tell, whichever.

"Um, take care, J'thir." T'ron said, waving the other grayrider way. "Say hello to Golith for me."