miss_m_cricket: (Dragons - Love heart)
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Title: Echoes of B'rav
Author: [livejournal.com profile] miss_m_cricket
Fandom: Dragonriders of Pern
Rating: Teen
Pairings: G'rin (OC) / B'rav (OC)
Warning: Character death mentioned
Disclaimer: Don't own anything at all...

Summary: There are days when G’rin is so tired that he can barely make it out of his furs. ...

A/N: Circumstances for this are taken from DarkFort a RP based of the Dragonriders of Pern. Think sexism, homophobia, abuse and wonderfully scheming politics.... G'rin is one of my characters from there. This is a Game Canon Standalone dealing with his grief after his lover B'rav, a fellow Weyrling, fails to make it back from Between.

Echoes of B'rav

There are days when G’rin is so tired that he can barely make it out of his furs.

He knows it’s not true tiredness; his body is actually remarkably well rested and healthy. But his spirit seems to get heavier with each passing day. The weight of it all, being a dragonrider, Y’ning’s taunts, V’lian’s sneers, and his utter aloneness, seems to swell in his chest like a malignant growth, pressing against his heart, lungs, stomach, until he cannot breath, until he wishes he could throw up…until his heart aches with such longing that it is actually painful for him to exist.

He knows it is his fault, for being himself, for not being the good compliant little greenrider like the others in his class. One cannot be loud and flamboyant in Fort without expecting the nasty to come with the pleasure of ruffling their feathers. But even stirring them up has lost its gleam these days, and even being G’rin has grown tired and worn.

Before B’rav he had been content as he was, knowing that few, if any, males would be willingly seen with him in a romantic light, simply because of the reputation that preceded him. He had accepted this, and although a part of him had tentatively wondered, what if, there was no real impetus to find someone to love, or someone who would love him in return.

In B’rav he had been offered light, something to hope for, someone to confide in and trust and love. He had changed, adjusting to work with and around this new presence in his life. He had been happy, something he was sure he could not claim prior to the entry of the brown weyrling into his life. Oh he had been content, finding pleasure in riling up the hidebound and those who despised boy lovers. But he hadn’t been happy, not like he had been happy tucked into B’rav’s warm embrace.

And now…now that is gone. He is gone.

And G’rin feels his loss, the loss of his smile, his laugh, his touch, his smell as he has never missed the loss of someone before.

He had not been able to sleep in the bed that first night after he returned from Between unscathed. It had been still rumpled from where they had slept and then gotten up in the morning. It smelled like him, and G’rin had been unable to stay in there, instead fleeing to the embrace of his green, who cradled him in her arms and crooned as he curled up against her.

He did not cry. Not then.

Today he is feeling particularly raw, so weary from pretending he is calm, impassive. So tired of holding his back straight in front of his classmates and those who mutter about it being his fault for the loss of B’rav. He is so tired of wondering if being with him had weakened B’rav enough that the slightest distraction led him to fail.

He climbs down from Camhoth’s back, and it is the first reminder. The empty space on the ledge and in the sleeping cavern. The space that had been filled by Callagath, who had curled around his green in slumber. Callagath who had listened to Camhoth’s incessant ramblings, Callagath who had been large and brown and strong. He shakes his head to clear the thoughts away and moves into the main living area as Camhoth curls up on her couch behind him, a soft sigh following him through the doorway.

His eyes immediately fall on the hides sitting on the arm of the old couch.

B’rav had been reading them the night before, patterns of threadfall that they had all been learning. G’rin had come over and distracted him with a kiss and a nuzzle and coaxed him to put the hides down, they needed a good night’s sleep with between waiting for them tomorrow. He closes his eyes, remembering the taste of him on his lips, the softness of his hair against his cheek before he forces them open once more.

Moving over he picks up the hides in shaking hands, and folds them up with careful methodical movements. With every fold and smoothing of his hands he wants to put them back down in the spot where whey have lain waiting for their owner to read them again. They do not understand that he is not coming home. But G’rin does. And he needs to do this.

The hides are tucked away in a box and G’rin turns to look around.

There on the floor is one of B’rav’s tunics. He had been unable to pull it over his head that morning, laughing as G’rin darted in, trying to tug it down, before he gave up and decided to wear a looser one for the day. It had been left there on the floor, brown weyrling knots still visible, where careless words had been spoken of picking it up when he came home.

Now G’rin is the one to pick it up, and he does, folding it slowly so the brown knots are visible as he tucks it away in the box.

In the tiny privy room there is a bristle tooth cleaner next to his own over the small water pool. He knows it is B’rav’s and it is packed away with the others, as he tries not to think of playful water flicking in the morning before…

Bit by bit the echoes of B’rav are packed away in the box. Until he comes to the bed.

Hesitantly he bends, leaning down to breathe in the smell of the sheets.

It is his scent, that warm comforting, but now heartrending scent that makes his heart pound and his eyes water. He does not want to cast this away, this last remnant of his lover. But he has to or he will never sleep in this bed again.

The furs and sheets are stripped and bundled away, to be sent away and washed, but G’rin cannot bring himself to strip the pillow. He tries to force himself to reach out and peel it away but he cannot. So when he curls up that night in his new bed he rests on that pillow, breathing in B’rav.

But it does not last.

Bit by bit the scent fades, until one night G’rin gets into bed and he cannot smell it.

It’s then he knows B’rav is truly gone and never coming back.

And it’s then he finally allows himself to cry.

Date: 2011-09-12 12:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mysterysquid.livejournal.com

Sad. Beautfully done though.

You've nailed how *tired* grief makes you...

Date: 2011-11-04 02:48 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] marderano.livejournal.com
Your blog looks nice, even so it would be far better if you’ll be able to use lighter colors too as a professional design. This will make sure that a lot more readers come to check it out.Informative post by the way!


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February 2012

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