Still At War With My Brain
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: Halyonix
Date Posted: 12th March 2025
Characters: I'serin
Description: I’serin does some introspection (read: overthinking)
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 5, day 7 of Turn 12
Notes: Sequel thoughts to A Forbidden Kiss 2; musical inspiration by Charlotte Sand's "Six Feet Under"
Aluneth was fast asleep on the ledge, limned in the double moonlight so that his metallic hide took on a soft silver aura. It was getting late in the night. I’serin should have sought his bed an hour ago but he had been slowly sipping a glass of wine. Alone.
Well, alone unless he counted all of his thoughts.
Perhaps it was a blessing that dragons could not remember much. Aluneth would have surely berated I’serin for living so far in the past if he could recall. But the dragon had suspected correctly. What held I’serin back went deeper than River Bluff yet it was indeed because of A’len.
He could almost see his ten Turn old self, a shadow in the room, poring over old histories of great Weyrleaders, his father proudly regaling him with additional tales.
“Now, T’koris was Weyrleader for fifty Turns -- almost the entire Pass!” A’len said in the memory. “It rankled him greatly to step down just a few Turns before Thread stopped falling. He saw it as a matter of pride to finish the Pass in charge!”
“But why did he step down?” a young Ioraserin asked. “A Weyrleader only steps down if his dragon didn’t catch the queen.”
“Injury to his dragon forced T’koris to retire. Now, T’koris had a brother, T’naris, but he only rode a blue -- boys who like other boys only ride blue or green, you see -- so he couldn’t lead the Weyr…”
That had been the first time A’len had said that certain phrase: boys who like other boys only ride blue or green. It had not impressed upon young Ioraserin just yet but as Turns went by, it sprouted into something within him. It was first a realization that he was set apart by birth -- the son of a bronzerider, a Wingleader, who had high hopes for his sons, even though he joked that the dragon would choose. This belief was reinforced by every adult he met, even if it was not voiced, because everyone knew his lineage.
And then it became a realization that he was set apart because he liked other boys.
At first, Ioraserin thought it was just a phase. Many a weyrbrat went through them, experimenting as was encouraged. Yet, experimentation yielded different results with Ioraserin. However, boys who liked other boys did not become bronzeriders in young Ioraserin’s mind and he was going to prove to the Weyr that his father was right by Impressing a bronze dragon.
So he repressed it, telling himself that it was a phase. The more he listened to his father’s derisive comments about the so-called depravity of blueriders (“Not an ounce of responsibility among them! They only want to party!”), the more he hated himself for liking men because he did not want to be on the receiving end of those comments. He was not like any of those riders, he told himself. He would show the Weyr, his father, himself that he was not like the others.
And he did. Just not in the way he intended.
Rubbing his forehead, I’serin realized that Turns of the constant litany of these microaggressive opinions about gay men -- whether those opinions had anything to do with their sexuality or not -- had become this internalized binding chain around him. A chain that now felt like a noose. Yet escaping this feeling felt impossible. Every day, every interaction he had with his father reminded him of the past in some way, as if the wounds never would fully heal because they kept being reopened just enough. It was, on I’serin’s good days, a mere annoyance. Lately, it had become exhausting.
Yet Aluneth’s words prodded at him. Was the past worth it still? A past that had gotten him this far, safely, without rocking the boat. A past where he was the lauded son of a bronzerider, destined to become a Wingleader eventually because of his bronze. A past full of social acceptance and status quos. A past where he knew what role he was expected to play, a harper on the stage of life, man and mask intertwined.
A past that had died five Turns ago when River Bluff fell.
I’serin swirled the wine in the glass. When proposed like that, it seemed ridiculous to cling to the past that no longer served. Did a person not get a new coat when the old one no longer fit? The answer was yes but replacing the fit of one’s life was a far harder endeavor. Where did he begin with such a process?
The young Weyrleader of Dragonsfall Weyr let out a soft, resigned sigh. It seemed there was no end to the problems he had to overcome. Insight and introspection were only getting him so far. Eventually, it would come to a head, whether he wished for it or not. Would that he could be bold, courageous, and face this like he did Thread. Or with the same freedom that others wore like a second skin.
“Perhaps a confidant,” he said to no one as he swirled the wine again. Someone who could give him objective advice. A mindhealer? Maybe. Certainly no one that knew him personally. Perhaps a second opinion on all of his issues would shed insightful light on what to do.
I’serin drained his glass and leaned forward on his desk to make a quick notation to chase down the problem another day. Hopefully it would wait that long.
Last updated on the March 26th 2025