Treyvin in Claiming The Crown

[tovaana]

Treyvin's Account of Claiming The Crown
Month 11, Day 27, Turn 2761, Late Morning, Clear Skies

Treyvin;

His mouth started to water, his chest started aching, and his body responded to a lust that was growing within him - or was it around him? The boy’s head snapped up, his eyes scanning the docks that he had been scrubbing with a stiff bristled broom. When men were working, it wasn’t often they thought of their lovers, usually their mind swallowed in the monotonous jobs they were absorbed in. Sometimes there were exceptions – as he had started to realize that men could feel that feeling of desire toward other men, but usually it was a visiting woman that elicited the feeling of desire that distracted a multitude of workers. He was always so busy with dealing with others' emotions, that he hardly knew if the desire he felt was someone else's or his own. In that moment it only took a glance at everyone else to realize what it was that he was feeling and it had him going back to the moment when the twin golds had risen back in time. For the briefest of moments he felt a spark of excitement of the idea of dragon eggs, but it was bulldozed over by the growing feelings that the dock and ship workers were feeling.

Then he gasped, as if realizing that he needed to leave – he didn’t want to be drowned in the strong wave of emotions that was coming his way, and proximity was his enemy. Even though everyone would be feeling the same strong desire – it was never congregational sort of feeling – it was always mixed with other feelings. He dropped his broom rather forcefully, it’s wooden rod knocking on the docks and bouncing in a motion of farewell to the fleeing candidate.

His steps went from the echoing thud on wood to the quiet squeak on sand as he ran out onto the beach, his heart racing with the strange feeling of desire that tickled a moan from his lungs as he came to stumbling halt. He had found a space where there wasn’t anyone in sight, though he could feel a mix of two people behind him somewhere who had succumbed to the gold’s lust, but he tried to ignore them, forcing his gaze going out toward the ocean where there were no people and no other emotions. Perhaps if he had been thinking straight, he could have hopped in a small rowboat to get him away from the coast that hugged the Weyr full of people.

Then a golden dragon winged above him and he flinched not as much from surprise of the presence, as he was of the anger and possessiveness that sliced through the desire right above him. His neck arched backward and he watched as the gold rose higher and higher – until he realized that there were now two golds in the sky, just like there had been back in time. But… their paths suddenly crossed and there was a pop of anger the echoed toward him and had him on his knees, and someone was yelling angrily nearby. It wasn’t until his throat ached that he realized that the anger had felt so real – so much like his own – that it had come out in an angry scream. Once his own voice had faded, he didn’t have the strength or breath to gasp as one of the gold dragons fell away from the other. Disbelief and the overwhelming emotions fuzzed the surreal moment, as did the conflicting emotions of continued desire and surprise and fear and… everything, he felt like there wasn’t one color that didn’t fill his brain and then left no room for logic or space to breath.

Tears pricked his eyes painfully as the gold suddenly disappeared, a flood of sadness rushing in like a tidal wave over the other emotions- not driving them away, just coating them with the wet tragedy. “Nooo!” It knocked him over, now on his hands and knees in the wet sand, the cold waves skimming just around his hands, as if the ocean was reaching out to him to help – but unsure how to do so. As the myriad of feelings rocked through his brain – he emptied his breakfast onto the sands. He groaned, his own feelings of sickness and fatigue still drowning in everything else. He was still crying too – or at least there were still tears falling periodically to the sand and blended with the salty ocean that reached him this time, water swirling around his hand and knees and then claiming some of  Treyvin’s breakfast as its own. He didn’t move, except for his muscles that trembled involuntarily and he quietly sobbed, finally feeling some of the flight lust start to fade into satisfaction or dissatisfaction. Some of the feelings pulled away, like the last wave had pulled back into the ocean, but most of them stayed and grew in confusion and fear. A golden dragon had died. That sadness had not dimmed either.

Treyvin quietly cried, tears falling straight from his eyes down to the ground, until he finally pushed himself into the kneeling position and rubbed his face with a sleeve to wipe away tears and the foul taste on his lips. It would be multiple seven-days until he ate that breakfast again, the flavor tainting and scarring his taste buds with the memory.

“I can’t do it.” He whispered to himself hoarsely, remembering how terrible height of emotions at the hatching had been… though, at least at the hatching, the waves of emotions had been more in sync, unlike the Weyr full of chaotic emotions behind him in that moment.

Sad, alone, with no where to go for comfort, he suddenly craved the embrace of a friendly face... one that not only cared for him, but understood him. He needed to visit his mother. He needed to visit the quiet of a eventless hold, where the worst emotions were usually only pricked by drama. Treyvin shook his head, as if denying the idea of leaving Mavros, no- he couldn’t leave his father… after a few more moments he was able to start pushing the foreign emotions away from him, trying to put up sloppy blockades to keep the worst out so he could at least come up with what he wanted to do next. He hugged himself tightly, still kneeling – his legs half surrounded by water and sand from kneeling there so long.

Finally, he decided he would just visit for a day, something he should have done right when he had gotten back, but hadn’t. He didn’t like the idea of asking anyone for help, but he could pay a rider for their time… he had friends he could ask, but the idea of needing their help or asking them… his stubborn independence and the memory of Vitra and No’va dancing- he shook his head, his own emotions making him feel sick as they mixed with the foreign ones. No, he’d ask someone he knew well enough to ask, but without emotional attachment. With this conclusion bringing closure in his mind he fell backward into the sand, just… lying there, hoping at some point the drama of the flight would fade, or perhaps with every deep breath he could could push more of them out and claim the space in his mind and heart as his own.