Post by Taxx on Jul 13, 2020 1:06:18 GMT -5
T’vir had always, always known that his father wasn’t one to hide his thoughts or withhold his opinion of people. He might temper that when he was with others of equal or greater rank, but even that tendency probably didn’t count here. He was angry: faced with the fact that his daughter had ended up here and that she had somehow Impressed- knowing that the plans he had started to form for her future were now useless- had him in a blacker mood than T’vir hadn’t seen in Turns.
He had been trying to help- letting him know that at least one of the three was still loyal to him. What he hadn’t expected was the reaction that came: he’d known that T’vil viewed his Impression to a blue as a failing on his part, but he hadn’t really believed his father wouldn’t want his son at his side when Brauth was old enough to let him leave.
“What makes you think I want you at Benden?” the man had asked, lips curled in a cruel sneer. T’vir had hesitated, mind going blank as he stared at the bronzerider, who turned to Dasiryth and hauled himself up. “You mean no more to me than they do, bluerider.”
And that had been it. Briefly he’d been aware of Vitra taking a step closer, but he had moved away, in no mood to put up with any of her attempts to make him feel better. He hadn’t joined the celebration of the timers’ return despite Vitra being one of those honored for her Impression. He would congratulate her later; for now, he needed time, and he was glad when he got it.
Hurt didn’t fade quickly, the lingering sting of the cold dismissal preying on him long after T’vil’s departure: his future suddenly uncertain. He had always intended on going to Benden Weyr, on regaining the connection with his mother who he hadn’t seen since coming here, joining Benden’s fighting Wings, finding his footing among those of the other Weyr as T’vil’s son. In two freezing sentences, his father had made it clear that it wouldn’t be anything like he’d imagined.
Now and then, fits of anger trickled through the pain: what was he supposed to do? Brauth had chosen him. Should he had denied it? Turned the blue away and let none but bronze even consider choosing him? That day had faded a bit in the Turn or so since, but he still remembered clearly the exact moment of Impression: remembered the clumsy blue as he staggered from his egg, nearly tripping over his own paws as he followed the pull toward the Candidates. Remembered the moment his eyes met the blue’s and the bugle of joy as love- pure, unconditional love- filled the boy and he thought he might either burst or dissolve into tears.
Nothing could have stopped him from flinging his arms around the blue and pulling his warm, damp body close, the unceasing hum vibrating through his body. Only for a moment had he felt anything like disappointment for the fact that it wasn’t a bronze, and it had been buried quickly enough. He’d Impressed. Brauth loved him.
Why couldn’t T’vil be happy for him on those points?
He’d fooled himself, he realized. He’d thought that somehow, T’vil might come around and accept him. If T’vil was anything, it was unyielding. He didn’t bend for his kids; his kids ought to bend for him. It was their responsibility to make him happy, and each of them had failed to measure up. Arlin had gone and decided he wanted to be a girl and Impressed gold, T’vir had had the gall to Impress blue, and Vitra had refused to mind him, run away from home, and Impressed a blue as well.
Strange, knowing that how he felt was how Arlin must have felt before he’d fled Benden Hold. Not that Arlin seemed to care one way or the other what T’vil thought of him anymore.
Maybe T’vir would get there, one day.
He had been trying to help- letting him know that at least one of the three was still loyal to him. What he hadn’t expected was the reaction that came: he’d known that T’vil viewed his Impression to a blue as a failing on his part, but he hadn’t really believed his father wouldn’t want his son at his side when Brauth was old enough to let him leave.
“What makes you think I want you at Benden?” the man had asked, lips curled in a cruel sneer. T’vir had hesitated, mind going blank as he stared at the bronzerider, who turned to Dasiryth and hauled himself up. “You mean no more to me than they do, bluerider.”
And that had been it. Briefly he’d been aware of Vitra taking a step closer, but he had moved away, in no mood to put up with any of her attempts to make him feel better. He hadn’t joined the celebration of the timers’ return despite Vitra being one of those honored for her Impression. He would congratulate her later; for now, he needed time, and he was glad when he got it.
Hurt didn’t fade quickly, the lingering sting of the cold dismissal preying on him long after T’vil’s departure: his future suddenly uncertain. He had always intended on going to Benden Weyr, on regaining the connection with his mother who he hadn’t seen since coming here, joining Benden’s fighting Wings, finding his footing among those of the other Weyr as T’vil’s son. In two freezing sentences, his father had made it clear that it wouldn’t be anything like he’d imagined.
Now and then, fits of anger trickled through the pain: what was he supposed to do? Brauth had chosen him. Should he had denied it? Turned the blue away and let none but bronze even consider choosing him? That day had faded a bit in the Turn or so since, but he still remembered clearly the exact moment of Impression: remembered the clumsy blue as he staggered from his egg, nearly tripping over his own paws as he followed the pull toward the Candidates. Remembered the moment his eyes met the blue’s and the bugle of joy as love- pure, unconditional love- filled the boy and he thought he might either burst or dissolve into tears.
Nothing could have stopped him from flinging his arms around the blue and pulling his warm, damp body close, the unceasing hum vibrating through his body. Only for a moment had he felt anything like disappointment for the fact that it wasn’t a bronze, and it had been buried quickly enough. He’d Impressed. Brauth loved him.
Why couldn’t T’vil be happy for him on those points?
He’d fooled himself, he realized. He’d thought that somehow, T’vil might come around and accept him. If T’vil was anything, it was unyielding. He didn’t bend for his kids; his kids ought to bend for him. It was their responsibility to make him happy, and each of them had failed to measure up. Arlin had gone and decided he wanted to be a girl and Impressed gold, T’vir had had the gall to Impress blue, and Vitra had refused to mind him, run away from home, and Impressed a blue as well.
Strange, knowing that how he felt was how Arlin must have felt before he’d fled Benden Hold. Not that Arlin seemed to care one way or the other what T’vil thought of him anymore.
Maybe T’vir would get there, one day.
