No Star Dims Just Because Another Shines

Writers: Duskdog
Date Posted: 26th March 2024

Characters: Cazavin, Catissa
Description: Cazavin checks on his daughter on the eve of her brother’s Search.
Location: Dolphin Hall
Date: month 5, day 2 of Turn 11
Notes: Mentioned: Cantiro (NPC)

It had been a busy, eventful day, just the way that Cazavin preferred. He loved the hustle and bustle of the Hall when everyone was awake and going about their day. The chatter of the Dining Hall at mealtimes, the rush of bodies in the halls between apprentice classes… these were the things that invigorated him, and part of the reason that he hoped he never again had reason to live anywhere else. And the buzzing excitement that went through everyone at the arrival of dragons on Search today had been a special treat.

He didn’t always enjoy the quiet of late evening, but he could admit that these times had their beauty, too. Timor and Belior shone down across the ocean in a rippling of color that made the water seem to sparkle like the night sky, and the soft sound of waves breaking in calm seas was soothing in the relative silence of night. Even the glows illuminating the stairs down to the pier from the Masters’ quarters threw light and shadow in a dance across the waves and foam by the beach.

He approached the lone figure sitting down on the end of the pier by the Dolphin Bell and, after a moment’s consideration, sat down next to her.

“Something on your mind?” he asked.

Catissa leaned back, propping herself up with her hands, idly swinging her legs off the end of the pier. It was exactly the sort of posture and gesture that her mother would have made -- _did_ make, off this very pier, many times -- and he felt a tightening in his chest that crept up into his throat. People didn’t always understand, when they talked about children looking like, or not looking like, their parents, that body language was part of that, too. It was the sort of thing that surprised you, the sort of thing that made memories creep up on you at the worst possible times.

“Maybe I just like the ocean at night,” she replied, without looking at him.

“Well, sure. I think everybody does… even if not everybody takes the time to stand still and appreciate it.”

She didn’t respond, and so he didn’t press it at first. They sat in silence for a while. He wondered if she knew it was okay to ask him to leave, that she wanted to be alone. He might be her father, but she was a grown woman now. Even though it was hard not to meddle, a part of him knew that he didn’t really have that right anymore. She didn’t have to entertain him if she didn’t want to, even if he had the best of intentions.

They had argued about it more than once when she was younger. She’d told him that she didn’t always want him to _fix_ it. Sometimes she just wanted him to _listen_. And, other times, she didn’t want to share her problems at all -- she didn’t want him to keep pressing her to tell him. She just wanted to keep her feelings to herself.

He didn’t really think it was healthy, but he couldn’t argue with her anymore. As an adult -- albeit a young one -- she had the right to live however she wanted to live.

“Are you happy for your brother?” he asked finally, genuinely wondering what the answer was (and a little bit afraid of what it might be).

She exhaled heavily, part snort and part sigh. “Of course I am. He’ll fit in perfectly at the Weyr. Most of the riders I’ve met are insufferable blowhards, too.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about your brother, let alone the people who protect the planet.”

Her head turned sharply to look at him. “Why do you even ask how I feel if I’m not allowed to tell the truth?”

“I didn’t mean it that way. You’re allowed to say whatever you want. It was just an observation, that’s all.”

“It was a judgment, and you know it.”

He couldn’t rightly argue. It stung to be called out, but he couldn’t help but be proud of her for calling it like it was, and not being afraid to tell him so. “...Do you want me to leave?”

She looked back at the ocean, and it was a long time before she responded. “...No.”

And so Cazavin sat back and waited.

Truthfully, he had always had a difficult time understanding his daughter. It wasn’t that there was anything _wrong_ with her -- he just had to admit that they were different enough that he just couldn’t always see where she was coming from. He had always had a very solid sense of self. Her mother had been a confident extrovert, too, fearless and daring, invigorated by interacting with those around her. Cantiro was very much like his mother, albeit with an exaggerated bravado that Cazavin attributed more to teenage dramatism rather than an inborn trait. Tivan, though more subdued than his brother, was also very social and self-confident, easily navigating through the world of adolescent friendship and confusion, and was popular with his fellow apprentices.

But Catissa always seemed to doubt herself. She had friends, certainly. She had a wonderful sense of humor, if occasionally a tad awkward. She was intelligent, diligent, and more than deserving of her journeyman’s knots. But for some reason, her confidence was shaky -- sometimes less so, and other times so fragile that he could almost _see_ it collapse in on itself when she felt that she had failed at something.

He looked back on her childhood often, wondering if he and Tissandra had done something wrong. Was there something they had said or done to unsettle her so? Was there some essential thing they had overlooked? She had been their first child, and they had been so young. Maybe they hadn’t gotten it right the first time… but, try as he might, he was never able to find the answer.

“I know it’s childish to be jealous,” she said finally, leaning back and staring up at the sky. “I should just be proud of him. And I _am_, I really am… I’m just… more jealous than I am proud. And I know it’s stupid to feel this way. Before you say it, okay? I _know_ that what he does or doesn’t do doesn’t reflect on me. I get it. My head knows that. But the rest of me doesn’t believe it. I feel the way I feel, anyway.”

He didn’t understand. Not really. He couldn’t remember many times when he had ever really felt… inferior to someone else. There were moments, probably, that he just couldn’t recall -- surely everyone had times like that. He just apparently never noticed or paid them enough mind to retain them.

But he tried to consider things from her perspective.

“People _do_ make a big deal about how special being Searched makes a person,” he ventured carefully. It was true. There were certainly those who despised the Weyr for what they perceived as unearned bounty, or depravity that preyed upon their vulnerable youngfolk, but for the most part, most of the people he knew revered dragonriders to a certain extent, even if they were wary about their way of life. “I think every young person at the Hall is probably at least a little bit jealous. It’s not just you.”

“That’s true,” she admitted.

“And you’re beating yourself up over feeling that way in the first place, which only makes it worse. Does it help at all to know that I don’t think any less of you -- not for not being Searched, _or_ for having these feelings?”

“It feels like you’d say that even if you _were_ disappointed in me, because you’re my father and that’s what fathers do.”

He scooted closer and put an arm around her shoulders. She allowed it, and it made him feel good to know that she didn’t feel like she was too old to accept a little bit of comfort from her dad. “You’re right, I might. Because I hate knowing that you don’t value yourself the way that I do -- the way that everyone else does. But I hope you can at least believe me when I say that that’s not what I’m doing right now. I’m not disappointed in you. I don’t think you’re being unreasonable, or childish, or stupid. I think it’s fresh and new and not being called out as special hurts a little bit, but that once you’ve had some time to process things, it won’t hurt so much anymore.”

He paused a moment, searching for the right words. “Maybe I haven’t told you enough how proud I am of you. Not everyone gets their journeyman’s knots -- I know you know that, I know some of your own classmates washed out during apprenticeship. You’re only just starting your career, and you’ve got such a good grasp of meteorology already. It’s not an easy part of the craft to learn. Your charts and maps are accurate -- and gorgeous, too. The dolphins like you, and even though they’re friendly you know they don’t take to just anyone.”

Catissa smiled a little, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I guess so… I mean, I know so. Most of the time. But it’s nice to hear out loud.”

“And think about this: do you think any less of your friends for not being Searched today, or any other day? Or for being a little envious sometimes?”

“No.”

“Then why think less of _yourself_?”

She sighed. “I don’t know, Dad. I really don’t. But I don’t think it’s something about myself that I can fix. At least not tonight.”

Cazavin recognized that as her way of saying that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. A part of him wanted to press the issue, because he hated leaving problems unfixed and words unsaid, but another part of him also knew that she was right: it wasn’t the sort of thing that could be fixed with one pep talk.

He wondered if there were apprentices here at the Hall that he was failing because he just couldn’t find the right words to make it better.

“Do you think he’ll actually Impress?” Catissa asked out of the blue.

“Who knows? Plenty of people who are Searched don’t. Even some weyrbred don’t, from what I understand. Are you… hoping that he doesn’t?”

Her smile was small and tentative, but he thought it was genuine, at least. “No. I think I hope he does. I’ll probably feel a little bad, I guess. But… they say the moment that Candidates Impress is beautiful. That some of them even cry. Wouldn’t that be neat to see? Something so moving that makes even that dumb macho braggart cry?”

Cazavin had to admit that it was hard to imagine. His son was generally unflappable -- he didn’t think he’d cry in front of a crowd very easily. “I’d like to see it. Do you want to go to the Hatching, when it comes?”

“Yeah. I think I would. If the Masters will let me go, that is.”

He grinned. “I have it on good authority that there’s one of them that wouldn’t mind giving you a pass.”

Last updated on the March 28th 2024

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No Star Dims Just Because Another Shines