A Warning?

A Warning?

Who: Aerishani, O’rlen, Amorenth, Roreliuth
When: Month 6, 202 AT
Where: Weyrleaders’ Weyr, Honshu Weyrhold
What: The morning after the attack.

The sheets will have to be changed. The weyr will have to be properly aired. The blankets that remind them too much of the awful night will probably have to be burnt. It’s midday before Aerishani surfaces from the handful of hours of sleep that she’s managed to get, still dressed in her wedding outfit – now stained with smoke and blood and made of ragged hems from strips torn off to create emergency tourniquets – and curled around her husband. The tang of smoke still hangs in the air, rising even from the white fur cloak that lies on the floor, seemingly perfectly intact. In the wallow, Amorenth sleeps on, mind still recovering from being pushed to its limits to bend so many to her will for so long, her head lodged beneath one of her wings as if she could block out the world. Aerishani keeps her eyes closed and does nothing more than run her hand through O’rlen’s hair, soothing her thumb against his temple.

Roreliuth has not slept – keeping an eye over his mate and the Weyrhold for her. His hide is starting to tinge gray with fatigue, but upon waking, O’rlen still can’t convince the bronze to let his guard down. O’rlen stirs at Aerishani’s touch and turns, looking at her with the haggard features of a man who has only managed to capture an hour or so of sleep. “What does Honshu do to deserve such vile retributions? Are we so liberal that those who are conservative seek to destroy us at //every// opportunity?” He shakes his head and tucks his head down closer to her fingertips, capturing a kiss against her soot-stained nails. “All the funds I’d been saving for an addition of a larger area for weyrlings and children’s learning will have to be redirected.” He sighs, clasping his fingers with hers. “How are you feeling?” he sits up, suddenly remembering her pregnancy. “I’ll fetch a healer to evaluate you.” He throws blankets off and begins to rise.

“The problem we have is that our people seem happy and so many others don’t,” Aerishani murmurs. “They don’t like seeing that there are ways of doing things that don’t mean absolute power or control, or exploiting the people who look to you. It frightens therm, when that’s how it’s been for so long.” As O’rlen throws the blankets off of him, she reaches to stay him, only to press both hands to her own temples. “I’m fine,” she insists, eyes pressed tight shut. “Just a headache. When Amorenth reached out like that, it was like being everywhere at once. In everyone’s heads. I don’t mean that I could hear them, but…” She eases her hands away, letting them drop back to the sheets. “The healers dosed me. I’ve had more sleep than you.” A breath, then: “I just need to wait for Amorenth to wake up.”

“I’ll get us food then,” O’rlen continues to rise after he gives her hand a squeeze. “And ask for something for your headache. I’ll come back with that and a clean set of clothes. Why don’t you get a bath?” he queries, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “We can’t solve any problems today. All we can do is begin to move on. Like we did before.” His face looks bleak and he pauses, deciding to say what he’s been dreading, “Could it have been meant as a warning on our lives? What if this means… the deaths from before… weren’t on accident?” He sighs and shakes his head, cupping her cheek as he brushes his thumb along her lips. “I don’t want to think that all we’ve sought to do and continue to do would solicit murder.” He waits for a moment and then turns, leaving the room quickly to prevent himself from overburdening her with additional worries. He returns not too long after with the promised food and a tea to help ease her headache. They will have to face the day shortly, but he chooses to take his time to make sure she’s settled before he goes out and faces the damage to their home.

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