Miscommunications

[anhydrous]

Daisulyth had been waiting to hear her perfect voice all day. It would have made everything better, soothed the savage beast that was tearing his mind to ribbons. Instead the minuets had dragged on to hours, the silence in his head growing more intolerable as I’dalyn attempted to make sense of the conundrum that threatened to drive him off of his ledge dragonless in its senselessness.

The history that they remembered did not match with what was written in the records. Ghosts of a past that they did not recall lingered on the edges of their memory, fouling all sense of anything and driving both dragon and rider to unending frustration.

Daisulyth was considerably more devastated than I’dalyn. The man had lost his rank, but the dragon feared that he had lost something far more precious. He had waited until dusk fell, but he could wait no longer. If she would not reach out to him, it would rest on his shoulders to do so.

With a sinking sensation already gripping his broad chest, Daisulyth’s consciousness left its place on his ledge and pushed out across the bowl. Finneth?[/color] He queried gently, her name rippling like liquid metal. He could not disguise the fondness that her name called forth, every syllable dripping of his devotion.

Twitching his wings anxiously, Daisulyth watched her ledge from across the bowl. She had to hear him. They were so close, no further apart than a few seconds awing. He could still see her in the gathering darkness, her hide contrasting deliciously from the gray stone that she lounged on. She had to remember him. She just had to.

[Xinnai]

Finneth had had a very long day. Long in the sense that everyone seemed to be in some sort of hubbub and she'd had to take K'houry down to the weyrling barracks. The weyrlings had been in some sort of a titter and H'gar had asked that the member of his weyrling staff be there. It had been long in the sense that she'd had to hunt today and then make K'houry clean her, because she'd gotten dirty from the entrails and blood she had sucked up. It had been long because she'd been remembering some sort of dream she'd had, one where she'd had a mate and had loved him and things had been going very well.

And that was just the oddest thing. Finneth didn't remember her dreams. She had them. She woke up. They were gone. She wasn't sure how she could have a mate either. Her last had died a few days after flight. That was old blues for you though. They could never be relied upon. She wasn't sure how things could be going well either. K'houry was just as foul and unpleasant as always. Of course, Finneth loved him so she couldn't think such things. But sometimes, it was nice just to let the truth see the light of day.

She stretched out on her ledge, slightly irritated that Rukbat had decided to descend. She wasn't done yet. She wasn't nearly warm enough or drowsy enough to go to sleep. Well, what was she arguing with nature for? It wouldn't help.

She was thinking of summoning up the will to get up and go inside her weyr and get K'houry to scratch her to sleep. He hadn't been paying nearly enough attention to her as of late, too concerned over the weyrlings. Strangely, she felt as if that hadn't bothered her before. That someone else had been there to love her. Strange dreams.

The voice came across to her then. Mentally, she frowned and then sat up, thick tail curling about her claws, bright emerald against them. Who is this? And why do you speak of me as so? I'm not sure I know you.[/color] She tried to find the owner of the voice, but failed within seconds. She just repeated her question. Who are you?[/color]

Heartbreak lay in store for Daisulyth. His Finneth did not remember him. She had been one of those affected by the timelapse-for the negative, in the brown's opinion. She knew of no former history, knew nothing at all except some strange dragon was talking to her in that ooey-gooey voice, one she felt like she had heard before directed toward her. But that was impossible. Wasn't it?

[anhydrous]

Daisulyth had been holding his breath. He didn’t realize it until his Finneth replied, a great gasp of air having been knocked from chest as her abrupt questions were fired into the night. She did not remember. Something seemed to snap within him, a well-worn piece of leather finally stretched too far.

The brown tightened his fists around the edge of his ledge, talons loudly protesting as they scraped and caught painfully at the stone. You don’t remember me?[/color] He lamented across the bowl, throwing his wings forward helplessly to hide his head shamefully in a shield of membrane and bone.

I’dalyn groaned against the sudden onslaught of emotion, dropping the glass that he had been drinking from to press his hands to his temples and jumping backward as it shattered on the floor. He didn’t have to ask. He already knew. The brownrider watched weakly from the inner part of his weyr while his mount stalked back and forth out on the ledge, trying to hide the golden gleam of his eyes by pressing his many eyelids tight together.

He had walked the breadth of his ledge a million times, but in the next few seconds he felt that he walked it a million more. I am yours, [/color] He tried to explain, already feeling that the endeavor would be fruitless. Daisulyth, your mate.[/color] How could she forget him?! The final pillar that held his world aloft was quickly collapsing, his relentlessly whirling eyes cast hopelessly towards Finneth’s reserved posture.

Perhaps he could make her remember! She had promised that she would belong to no other! She had promised! Thoughts raced as Daisulyth began to pace again, tail lashing despairingly. She had promised!

[Xinnai]

She could see him then, in the dark gloom that swept across the bowl as the night came to lay its claim. He looked to be in a posture of intense puzzlement. She saw the moment that the agony hit, exactly when his voice reached her. Watching him throw his wings in his head in a gesture of his pain, she found her voice.

I do not, but things have been odd of late. Perhaps I'm just having some funny sort of day.[/color] Soothing. Comforting. K'houry would notice nothing amiss in his green, just concern and amusement.

And then he said his name and there was a whirling of memories, a thousand blurred picture snapshots that filtered into her mind and were gone in an instant. Finneth froze into a stone, spine straightening. Even her heart seemed to stop.

Daisulyth...I remember that name. I remember it. How do I remember you and yet do not? My mate...You say I'm your mate. I remember that vaguely. But I don't. I remember someone else. Daisulyth. Daisulyth, help me.[/color]

She stared across the bowl toward the brown, eyes whirling with her confusion. How could this be? It couldn't be possible to remember two pasts. It couldn't be, yet she was. Chest inflated with air as she unfroze, slowly thawing out. She had the feeling he would make sense of it.

[anhydrous]

Hope flickered in Daisulyth’s chest and he slowed his pacing, her soothing voice ebbing across the void between them in trickles. They were on opposites sides of time, each vaguely remembering the past that existed for the other.

The brown would never be able to make sense of it, but he could try his hardest. He would try anything for his Finneth.

Memories struggled to the surface of his mind, the details of the flight that bonded them no more than a flicker of pleasure. I caught you,[/color] he began unsteadily, as if his elusive recollections would be lost to the darkness around him. Ours were very upset, yelling and spoiling the morning. Do you remember the way they quarreled?[/color] He asked hopefully, stopping mid-step to regard her shadowy form with wide eyes.

It was all he could do to tell their story, latching onto fleeting memories and milking them for all they were worth. Daisulyth’s forms of expression were immaculate, each thought presented with such care to include distinct emotions and stray flickering images. He would do what he could. He needed her to remember.

[Xinnai]

The past was difficult for them. Difficult for any dragon. They barely remembered the last sevenday and she asked him to remember months? Finneth felt shame and impatience. She wanted to know if the brown had gone crazy. Or if he were telling the truth.

With every image, every emotion, the green grasped at what she could, struggling to resurrect what she could. There were flickers, there were fragmented images. She struggled all the harder, feeling as if her mind were aching, her heart breaking.

They were upset...They weren't happy. They blamed us? She pressed harder, wanting to remember now, wanting to claim this heartsick brown as her own, wanting to comfort him. You were...mine. You stayed with me when Ours were gone...

She was trying hard, so very hard. She felt a fondness for Daisulyth, whether born from the shadowy past she could not remember or for the concern he seemed to express. Either way, it was better than not knowing who he was.

[anhydrous]

Daisulyth surged happily against her consciousness, encouraged and excited. Yes! I stayed with you, while Mine sulked off and Yours threw a similar fit.[/color] Whether she was simply repeating or remembering, he couldn’t know for sure. She seemed to be trying very hard either way, which was a small comfort if nothing else.

Cleverly he coerced her mind to focus in, wanting to see if she would be able to recall anything on her own. Do you remember exactly why they were so agitated?[/color] His prompt was extraordinarily hopeful, the tone in which he delivered his words marking them carefully. He did not mean the flight. He meant something so very much more important than the silly flight.

The memory to which he was referring stood in stark clarity compared to the rest of them, stored away with every other promise that had ever been made to him. Many of this archive consisted of I’dalyn’s reassurances, the grassy green shape of his Finneth pinning the memory with special importance.

He could still feel the way her body had been nestled against his, his mantle of wings laid overtop of her curled form to protect her from the ugliness of their quarreling riders. He savored the sound of her voice as it echoed in his mind, the promise, the sweet satisfaction..

For now Daisulyth kept these things to himself, ready to share the perfect mental image should she need it. Desperately he wanted her to remember on her own, but he was prepared to surrender his mind should it be required. That little green could not know just how much he would be willing to do for her.

[Xinnai]

Finneth was trying desperately hard, especially with the happiness Daisulyth expressed for what little she could remember. She was straining against the boundaries of her own mind, pressing for what had been there and was no more.

They were angry, she repeated, trying to prompt herself. Like repeating words that sounded like others words until the correct one slipped in. Found. They were angry because they did not like each other...Mine loathed Yours...Yours thought Mine was bitter and old. Hateful.

It was coming back. Or she thought it was. Was she remembering the true version of events or the fabrication that had now instilled upon her? The green let out a frustrated sound, wings snapping open and rustling closed. She began to pace, trying to work off her agitation.

Is that right? I think it is but I cannot be sure. Help me, Daisulyth. I want to remember. I want you to be mine again.[/color]