Across the Sea [Sibling Letters]

[tovaana]

Turn 2761. Month 5

Oh Nessa,

Why aren’t you here with me? Father says there are no eggs on the sands at Mavros anyways. You’d love it here.

Cionessan paused his fine lettering and looked at the small parchment. They’d had this conversation for the past four years, how each wished the other had chosen differently. He supposed it was an ongoing joke of some sort, that just maybe she’d change her mind. What more could she learn of dragons that she hadn’t already? Couldn’t she just show up on the sands when there were eggs, and instead spend her precious time at the Harper Halls? It just made more sense.

He sighed through his nose, jaw tightening. He’d told his father to fetch him for the next gather like he usually had when his family had been at Ierne. With these thoughts he went back to his ink.

We’re starting to learn more than just copying old songs – we’re learning the art of music, how influential one can be with their words. I must not be very good, since I still haven’t convinced you that your dragon can wait a few turns while you sing with me. Ah, well. I’ll see you at the next gather, save me a bubbly pie.

Father told me that he’s moved the family to Mavros. Tell me about it. Are you liking it there? What friends have you made? Don’t leave a detail out.

With the greatest care, your other and more important half

Cionessan.

With special care his dark fingers rolled up the parchment the best he could. He needed to get himself a flit of his own, but for now he borrowed his friend’s bronze that was reliable at sending messages. He tied it with a ribbon and stood up, tapping his hand with the message thoughtfully. He’d heard of Mavros, the Weyrhold, mostly because it was now his job to know things. His world was starting to open and widen to what harpers could really do and accomplish. When people thought of power, they thought of the leaders – Weyrleaders and Weyrwomen… but who painted their heroics on parchment and immortalized them? A smile flickered at the corner of his lips and he moved, calling out his friend’s name. “I need to use Silver for a letter. Yes, another one. Who do you think it’s for?” He snickered, handing the ghostly pale bronze his note and his friend to pass on the imagery of his father’s bronze.

Taxx

[Taxx]

Lounessa had been thrilled to receive the letter from Lo'qui from Cion, and she'd immediately sought a quiet corner with a fresh square of paper, quill and ink in preparation of reading and writing a reply. She read it through several times, making sure she hadn't overlooked anything within the short note, and then she set it down next to the blank page waiting for her response. Nimble fingers swept her hair back, working her hair into a neat braid that she tied with the ribbon carefully untied from the note, considering his request- and his light tease at the end- and how best to answer.

A cheerful chirp announced Buttons' arrival, and Nessa plucked a bit of smoked, chewy meat from a pouch she carried, offering it to the little brown to occupy his mind and jaws while she worked on her message. Happily, he settled at her side to wrestle with the scrap of meat, and Nessa began.

Dear Cion,

I can promise no more than visits. Believe me, I dislike the distance, but we have all our lives ahead of us. Perhaps when you become a journeyman you can find a station here? Then we can be together once more. Until then, of course you're in my thoughts, and I do enjoy getting word from you on your progress, your experiences in the Hall.

It sounded good to her: Cion had to be at the Hall for his lessons, but there was no reason he couldn't make a place with her, their father and aunt once he'd walked the tables. Until then... a few taps at the table before she tightened her grip on the quill and continued:

The move has not been too eventful. Mavros is perhaps a bit smaller than Ierne Weyr, but the differences are not much otherwise. The ideals are much the same, and we have quite a few women riders, especially a couple on browns, which was something I'd yet to see anywhere. Maybe my hope to be on a bronze isn't such a stretch after all, do you think?

I arrived too late to attend the most recent Hatching! There is too much news of that to fit in a letter; I will have to tell you all about that in person. I am left to wait for the next, and hope that a dragon waits for me there. I am settling in fine, though I have yet to be able to say I have any friends just yet... but Riasu is here, and we have lessons together, so I'm not alone.

Do take care of yourself, and of course I'll save you a pie! I wouldn't miss seeing you at a Gather for anything.

Nessa

Then, deftly rolling the paper and hunting down a bit of twine to keep it closed- she was keeping that ribbon as a token- she talked one of her fellow Candidates into letting her borrow their firelizard to ferry the note back to Cion- ignoring Buttons' high-pitched squeals of outrage at her daring to touch another firelizard- and sending it off once she was certain the destination was clear to the other brown.
tovaana

[tovaana]

Turn 2761. Month 7

Dear Sister Half,

I apologize for the delay in this letter, but know that I haven’t forgotten you. In fact, I’ve been stewing over your last letter. I’ve been writing you a song – I’ll write the lyrics here, but I’ll sing it for you at the gather, I’m sure I can persuade the musicians to let me commandeer a few minutes to sing it at the gather.

He paused his lettering, thinking back on the struggle and toil he had gone through to come up with his thoughts and words. To him, men seemed more fit to be in leadership positions – not all of them, but it seemed like while there were some women that had the potential for strength – those women were fit to impress golds. However, when it came to his sister, he could see why she’d want a bronze – their father rode a bronze, so she aspired to be like him, perhaps. Still, it was strange enough to hear that there were girls on browns and it made him uncomfortable to think about it. He’d spent hours and weeks thinking about it, analyzing his own discomfort and wondering what it meant for Pern to have women on browns. He hadn’t truly come up with an answer, but his sister was a strong capable woman who he truly felt could do anything she set her mind to… if anyone was to impress a brown, even a bronze, why not her?

He sighed, biting at his lip as he continued to copy down the lyrics in his neat handwriting.

The beginning is as dark as between,
but it’s simply the opening of a dream. /a dream/
Look up! What do you see?
The future of Pern on wing – /on wing/
Striking the enemy in ash flare,
Who’s guided by a malevolent wink of red
The enemy eye cares not the color of the dead.
Who will stand, who will dare?
Green, Blue, Brown, Bronze – with a golden heart.
His and Her eyes a reflection of the dragon’s hide
Who cares, if not the enemy,
The color of her other part,
who cares, if not the enemy? 

There, what do you think of it? It still has many drafts to endure, and it has no name - have any ideas?

I’ve heard riders call their dragons their other half. If you are my other half, wouldn’t it be nice if we could speak mind to mind like dragons and riders do? Then we wouldn’t have need for barbaric parchment and ink.

Until we gain this ability, I’ll continue sending my thoughts through flit-mail,

Your better looking half, Cionessan

He stared at the page, putting the ink pen away and tapping his fingers on the wood table, still unsure how he felt about what he’d written. Surely thread didn’t care about the color of a dragon’s hide, but people did. There was a certain structure in the dragon world from what his father had taught him, and there was a reason why bronzes were put in leadership positions, so that they could command the lesser colors if they needed to. Though his father hadn’t outright complained about how he as a bronze had been treated at Ierne, he had heard the bitterness in his voice from the stories he would tell. And if a woman on a gold could lead, was there that much of a difference of having a woman on a bronze leading? Or was it because the roles of the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader catered to women and men specifically?

He sighed, leaning back, staring at his note. If he worked hard, in a few turns he could make journeyman status and hope there was an opening at Mavros. It wasn’t a popular destination, but with women impressing browns – perhaps it was important that he go there and witness history. It was a great excuse to be with his sister. “Jhonain! I need Silver!”

“Get your own flit, man!”

Cion smiled and shook his head, rolling up the paper and taking the fellow student’s words as positive rather than negative.

“Did you at least tell her about your attractive friend?”

“You could write her, yourself, if you’re interested.”

“Well, if she’s as pretty as you are, maybe I will.”

“Almost.” He snickered, punching his shoulder as he passed the taller man that attempted to pinch his cheek, and since it’d been predictable – Cion had dodged it as he'd thrown the friendly punch.

Taxx