[Art Clutch]And So We Begin Again (Leshta/La)

[lithle]

Three Weeks. Three weeks ago that it'd happened, that the world had shattered. Three weeks and now all were mourning the dead and fearing the escaped. It was a difficult time, a time of silences and secrets. Leshta had retreated into herself since the breakout and Semith, mourning her daughter who'd left her, her friends who had died, had become silent as well.

She clutched in silence, at night, with none but Leshta to accompany her. She did not bury the eggs, or make a secret of these new treasures. She did, however, arrange them with care, showing favor to no particular egg, but crooning over each with protectiveness she had not shown with her last clutch. She was so very afraid of losing another child. These would be her darlings. She would do better, this time.

Finally, as the sun began to rise and she was at last content with each eggs careful placement, she nudged Leshta back to wakefulness with the tip of her tail. The goldrider, no longer Weyrwoman, stood in her rumpled clothes and studied the clutch.

"They're lovely, sweet," she said, her voice soft. And she meant it. They were lovely.

What should I do? The breakout had left her oddly unsure, without her previous confidence.

"I think Kirene and Kith will wish to see them." Leshta replied.

Kith? Kith, if it is okay, I would like to show you what we made. I am on the sands, if you want to come. You do not have to. Semith's mindvoice was gentle, timid.

Images by Firelight Egg
Looking at the brown surface of this small egg, one is given the impression of a tanned hide. It's not just the brown color but the apparent texture that gives the impression. Marked in the center, in what appears to be charcoal, is a primitive shape that might be a dragon in flight.

Call to Action Egg
Of average size for the clutch, this egg certainly catches the eye. It's primarily a bright red and despite being an ovid, seems made up of mostly hard lines. Slashes of black interrupt the red at odd angles. The overall effect is energetic, yet unsettling.

Masked Menace Egg
This egg is deep brown, nearly black, and looks almost as if it were carved of some dark wood and placed on the sands as a decoy. Looking closely and one can almost make out a face, the dark hollows of eyes, the wide, snarling lips. If it is a face, it isn't a friendly one, but a threat. This egg is one of the larger of the clutch.

Misty Garden Egg
The smallest of Semith's eggs, this one is still lovely. To look at it is to view a garden through mist, all soft grays and fading greens. One can almost see the bloom of flowers, hazy splashes of yellow and pink resting in the green.

Golden Starbust Egg
This egg is of moderate size, leaning slightly toward the smallish side. It's shell has a distinctly metallic sheen to it, making the golden surface catch at the light. A huge starburst array takes up most of one side of the shell, eye catching and odd with its perfect symmetry.

Nightmare Images Egg
This egg is rather unfortunate to look at. It's quite small, for one, dwarfed by most its clutchmates. The colors on its surface, mostly browns and greens, run together, creating unsettling new shades. It's oddly lumpy as well, an unsightly nightmare of an egg.

Fresh Perspective Egg
Dull tan and brown, this egg hides itself among its fellows, despite being one of the larger in the clutch. Its surface seems to be a series of curving shapes which study resolves into images. Is that a face? Almost, but no, or perhaps yes, but a face from every angle at once.

Pernese Totem Egg
One of the largest eggs in the clutch and one of the boldest in appearance, this egg is hard to miss. Red, black and green combine into blocky, but recognizable forms. Here, a firelizard, there, a shipfish. The shell appears to be slightly rougher than most.

Heroes Call Egg
This huge egg is nearly the largest in the clutch. Its surface is a series of bright, primary and secondary colors, in bold, eye catching splashes. Near the center of the egg is apparently a dragon figure, in dominate red, outlined heavily in black. There are no details, but the image has a sense of power.

Making a Mockery Egg
This egg is mostly white, with a golden splash that resembles nothing so much as a golden dragon's head. Its eyes are blue and cheerful and it's in every way familiar and comfortable. Well, familiar except the handlebar mustache on its snout. This is one of the smaller eggs in the clutch.

Crashing Wave Egg
This itsy-bitsy egg can't compete with its bigger siblings. No, it's small, and its primarily color might best be compared to aging parchment. It looks to have a pattern of stylized waves on it's surface, one can see the white of foam and a dark, ocean blue. It has an admirable delicacy to its pattern, so neat and careful in the details.

Shape and Shadow Egg
Near the middle-range of size in the clutch is this colorful egg. Primarily white, it's covered in bright geometric shapes, red triangles, blue squares, purple circles. Stare at it to long and one might get the impression that the shapes are slowly moving, as if suspended.

Heartstrings Egg
This is one of the oddest eggs in the clutch. From one side, it's welcoming and friendly. The colors are blue and yellow, cheery and bright. Yet the other side, in grim gray and slashed through with rust red, seems threatening and uncomfortable. It's slightly larger than average but not by much.

Dizzying Pattern Egg
Look at this smallish egg too long and risk getting dizzy. Bright blue, its surface appears almost to be made of individual blue tiles, each placed with precision to make a steady, repeating pattern. Shapes form where 'tiles' meet, but there's no unifying image.

Elegant Lattice Egg
Warm tans and browns dominate this egg. By far the largest in the clutch, its patterning is attractive and complex. Spirals of dark brown coil in soft, organic patterns, forming a lattice around most of the egg. Near the center of the lattice, the shape of a flower is visible, delicate rose in color.

[giftwrapped]

Three weeks. Three weeks and the dragons were beginning to heal. Three weeks and Merceth was beginning to be able to move without constant pain, and maybe someday he'd adjust to life with one eye. Three weeks and greenrider I'saac's dragon was gone and very nearly the rider with her. Three weeks since the day Yusuth flickered between and V'tya was discovered in a pool of his own blood. Three weeks and La felt nothing but drained. She had pushed the horror away, replacing it with resilient tiredness. Weariness was better than misery, emotionlessness better than fear. The only relief was the arrival of the overseer - bittersweet at best - and the dissolution of the position of Weyrleader. Lanakirene had dropped it gladly.

She was a dragonhealer; she could not be both at the same time, not when the Weyr relied on her and her small staff - most of whom weren't dealing with the breakout any better than she. Ralvyn in particular was not coping well; La had slipped a mild sedative into his tea when he came to see her - pre-sunrise. She couldn't recall the last time either of them had slept properly. The apprentice was napping on the workbench in her office, La's travelling cloak draped over him and a spare bundle of bandages pillowed under his head. It wasn't nice to do to the boy, but it was occasionally necessary. He would feel better when he woke.

Lanakirene. Kith sounded as tired as his mistress as he lifted his head from his wallow, looking toward the Hatching Sands with eyes that momentarily flickered a cheerful green. Even draconic memory hadn't helped the little blue - patients needed to be seen continually; nothing could dull the pain of other dragons, and Kith was unable to forget the horrors of that day that Iiateth had Risen - though he did sometimes forget the reasons for it. Semith wants us. It is time for the eggs, he remarked softly, and as La blinked into awareness and stirred, the dragon did the same.

All right, precious, La answered mentally, reluctant to speak for fear of waking her guest. We'll go in just a moment. I just want to leave Ral a note.

Of course.

The dragon waited while Lanakirene scrawled a quick explanation of her location to the apprentice, leaving it beside his curled hand for when he woke. Stealing a glance at the small pile of firelizards currently napping atop him (Yarrow and Hazel had been joined by Trouble and Jackass in a pile of flitty comfort), she stole out of the hut as quietly as possible, meeting with Kith in the rising light and resting a hand against her dragon's shoulder.

The walk to the Sands was somber, thoughtful, dragon and rider not daring to think about what the results of the long-finished Run might be. In the back of his mind, Kith feared the worst - no eggs, or a single, obviously deformed thing that would never break shell. La simply reserved judgment; whatever happened would happen, and she would love whatever eggs Kith sired. She would love the eggs Iiateth mothered as well, regardless of their sire and the circumstances surrounding their conception.

Neither blue nor dragonhealer was prepared for the breathtaking spectacle they beheld as they strode onto the Sands. Kith paused, eyes going momentarily white with surprise before he realized that the eggs were his, and that he was not hallucinating. Slowly, the colour whirled back into his expression, tentative greens muscling out his more typical yellows, blues following them. After a moment, the blue's gaze was awash with turquoise, and he trilled excitedly as he approached his mate. Semith, oh Semith, my dear Semith, they're beautiful, he breathed, tone awash with bewildered sincerity.

"Fifteen," La said to herself, finishing the count and following her dragon's path to the gold and the Weyrwoman - regardless of what M'onk said, Leshta was Weyrwoman. She rode a gold, and that was enough for Lanakirene. "Fifteen eggs," she repeated quietly, brushing past Kith and approaching Leshta. She reached out, laid a hand on her shoulder, unable to keep the smile off her face. "Fifteen eggs," she repeated one last time. "Even now, in this dark hour, we'll have something to celebrate."

[lithle]

Even with Kith's enthusiasm to lift her spirits, Semith was subdued. Still, she was clearly pleased to see her mate, headbutting him gently and shifting so that he might curl up at her side if he wished. She was tired, after the night's labors and hungry as well. But those complaints were for later. For now, she was going to focus on the eggs.

Be happy about the eggs. Try to be.

You like them? I want for you to like them. Her mindvoice was equal parts hesitance and urgency a desperate need for forgiveness mingling with a fear of reaching out again. They are pretty. Right now, they are pretty. Later, they will be dragons.

It was difficult to say whether she was speaking with unusual depth, or simply stating the obvious like she often did.

Leshta too, had mixed feelings about the clutch, though she managed a smile for the Master Dragonhealer. Reaching up, she covered the hand on her shoulder with her own, squeezing it gently.

"I don't know whether to celebrate or not," she murmured, her voice low and sleepy. "I'll be happy to see another hatching. We, we need something like that. Something good."

She took a breath, her eyes searching the clutch and coming to rest on one egg in particular, one that had made her bite her lip when she'd first seen it laid in the moonlight.

"But we lost one Weyrling to the outlaws. What's to stop the next group of prisoners we allow to stand from doing the same?"

She'd been thinking about that a lot. Had been trying to reassure herself with the fact that those who'd remained in the prison had to be the good ones, the ones who'd chosen to stay instead of escape, who hadn't turned to violence.

"And then there's that," she pointed to the egg that'd called her attention, the one with a starburst on its shell. "That looks to be another opal."

She didn't feel the need to say more. What'd happened because of the last opal was still heavy in everyone's minds. And now Iiateth was clearly egg heavy, which only added to the complications.

"Maybe now isn't the time to talk of such things 'kirene. Maybe I'm making shadows into ghosts."

[giftwrapped]

Semith, I love them, Kith answered the gold gently but with great conviction in his voice, nuzzling her firmly, reassuringly. Kith had endless patience, a permanent wellspring of gentle support for his patients. But Semith was different. She was his mate and the dam of this clutch. His clutch. And even when they are dragons, they will be beautiful and I will love them, he added softly. I will love them no matter what.

That strange, firm conviction returned to his voice as he again looked over the eggs. Two dragons had gone - a weyrling and a young green that he didn't know well. But that meant nothing. Children grew, and you hoped. Lanakirene had never wanted any of her own, but Kith had seen clutch after clutch and watched his rider raise apprentice after apprentice. He might not recall them, but it left him with a vague but potent sense of the transitory. Things happened that you couldn't control. But that didn't mean you never let things happen for fear of them going sour.

The optimism was shared by his rider, who pulled Leshta into a gentle, one-armed hug, simply resting her arm around the former Weyrwoman's shoulders as they turned back to the eggs. "A hatching is always good. A dragonet is always good," she answered quietly. "We will be prepared this time. I- will be prepared this time. For anything." Her voice was soft as she looked at Semith's bulk and then the dark shapes of the eggs, gaze lingering on the shell of the egg Leshta suspected to be an opal. "Whatever it is," she said softly, thoughtfully. "It is above all else a dragon."

"And dragons need Candidates," she added quietly. "Prisoners or not. Them as wanted to go have gone. The ones left are safe, for the most part. I took the liberty of glancing at a few rosters just before they dissolved my rank..." she paused, shrugged. "Many who stayed behind are harmless, or mostly so." She hoped. The sentence hung awkwardly, and La shook her head after a moment, twitching away the negatives as if they were some sort of biting insect.

"I think we both are. It's understandable, given the circumstances." Her voice came out as a whisper, that time, and she looked over at Leshta. "When was the last time you slept, Lesh?"

[lithle]

Semith melted. It was the good kind of melt, a sudden release of tension that the dragon had been holding since she'd finished laying the clutch. Kith promised to love them, to always love them and Semith believed him. It wasn't the same as believing things were alright. It wasn't the same as not being hurt, or afraid. But it was so much better than the aching sense of not knowing that had weighed heavily on the usually light-hearted dragon.

We must take care of them, Kith. I want for them to be happy. She rose slightly leaning forward to gently nudge a blue egg slightly deeper into the sand. It was so easy caring for them, while they were still eggs. Mine says they will help people be happy again. I would like for our eggs to do that.

Her mind did not always work in the same direction as other dragons. Sometimes, she missed things. But Semith could sense the mood of her rider, of the Weyr as a whole. She knew that most were hurting just as she was. And if her eggs could help fix that, it would make her happy.

Someone needed to give Lanakirene a prize for asking the right question. But perhaps it was obvious. When the Dragonhealer put her arm around Leshta, the usually prickly goldrider all but collapsed against her, wavering slightly on her feet before finding a firmer stance.

"I've decided against sleeping." The words were slightly edged with guilt. "Waste of time anyway."

And there were the nightmares. But she didn't want to talk about those. She'd talk about the eggs instead.

"You're right," she said, trying to make her voice sound crisp and clear instead of groggy and defeated. "At least we know what to expect. And we can be more careful. We can make sure that the candidates allowed to stand really know what they're in for. So they don't feel," she paused, "chained by it."

She said nothing of the post that La no longer held, just as she did not mention her own loss of status. She was too tired to be angry, at least for the moment. Besides, she'd already thrown enough objects.

[giftwrapped]

"If you need something to help you sleep..."

La shrugged, trailing off. She would never prescribe something to Leshta stronger than chamomile in the evenings, but there were things she could do. Relaxants. Herbal concoctions that helped calm the mind and still the muscles without doing the damage of fellis and other soporific drugs. Dragonhealer or not, La knew people nearly as well as their six-limbed counterparts. It was her responsibility to keep everyone healthy. "You know how to find me," she finished eventually, finding the right words and offering Leshta a small, wan smile.

"I know it can be hard." Oh, Faranth, she knew. Ralvyn back in her office was proof. Her own insomnia was proof. It reminded her a bit of the first time she'd lost a patient, a weyrling ripped up in an accident only a sevenday after a first manned flight. There would have been no saving her, and it was the first time La had seen a dragon go between without the guidance of a rider. And the first time she had seen a dragonless man. She had administered a lethal dose of fellis that day, to a young man who might have had so much more to live for. She hadn't slept properly for nearly a month after that.

And that was what this felt like. You never got used to it, but sometimes it got easier. She had worked with others who were losing or had lost their dragons in her time. They had been easier. But not this. She was too involved in this. That was the problem.

You're not too involved. Kith's voice in his rider's mind was gentle, but for a moment the dragon looked sharply at Lanakirene, eyes flickering again with yellow. You are a healer and these dragons and their people are all yours. And these eggs are mine. This Weyr is ours now, Lanakirene. But we've known that for a long time.

"Since I got here," La agreed aloud, whispering the words as she thought them to Kith. Crooning softly, the blue nuzzled Semith once, gently, and walked to where his rider stood with Leshta.

Semith, he said quietly, glancing over his shoulder at the gold before leaning down and nuzzling first his own rider, and then the gold's, our people are being silly. They need to cuddle with us for a while, I think. Any protests his rider might have made were ignored, and Kith plopped down directly beside Lanakirene, leaning slightly against her and arching a wing over her and the Weyrwoman. It will make all of us feel better.

And that was something La couldn't argue against.