Old Memories, New Gossip
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: Corrin, Sia
Date Posted: 17th April 2025
Characters: Q'vettan, Elhelia
Description: BLW’s weyrharper visits an old flame to get caught up on the gossip of Dragonsfall
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 5, day 10 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: Dragontails, Oselle (not by name), Kyperian (NPC), Vaile
This and Q’vettan’s other social visits happen the day of A Forbidden Kiss. (Don’t timeline this note, I just think it’s neat).
The cold of /between/ clung to Q'vettan's bones as they appeared high above Dragonsfall. The old nostalgia pulled the corners of his mouth into a small smile as his bronze made a lazy circle down, roaring a familiar greeting to the watchdragon. A familiar blue hide and a wave from a retired rider Q'vettan remembered but didn't keep in contact as they aged. They'd both been raised here, even if it'd been almost twenty turns since Q'vettan left. The only change in the Weyr was the eyesore of tents clustered in the center, strangely close to the weyrling barracks.
}: Echoes here. Footprints still tucked in corners. :{ Tzenketh agreed wistfully.
**Land us in the weyrbowl please, old man. We're stopping over for lunch.**
}: Do you think they remember you in the way you want to be remembered, or the way you actually were? :{ Tzenketh didn't require an answer, and even if he did, Q'vettan wouldn't have answered. He needed more klah than was available to handle the bronze on a good day. The bronze landed easily in the bowl, lowering himself for the Weyrharper to dismount. His gaze, however, drifted skyward at the echoing roars of mating dragons.
}: Liranth Rises.:{ Tzenketh reported airly. For a moment he seemed like he might consider, his tail swishing side to side like a feline. But when he took off it was with the lazy air of much older dragon, more eager to enjoy the autumn sun than competing over a green.
The kitchens, at least, were hot with the fires of food cooking and drinks brewing, and it only took him a moment to find the familiar face he sought. "Dragontails today, is it? What kind of nonsense is this?"
“‘Vettan! What in the world are you doing here?” exclaimed Elhelia as she looked up from the cauldron of stew she was tending. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat and hurry of the kitchens, her apron damp and stained, but she was still dangerously lovely as she hurried over to him, eyes dancing with delight. It was easy to see the beauty that had gotten him into trouble all those Turns ago.
She kissed his cheek and snapped for someone else to take over the stew. _She_ had to talk to the _weyrharper_. Then she took Q’vettan by the hand and pulled him to the quietest corner of the kitchen she could, chiding him as they went: “Scoff all you want, but dragontails are a quick, easy to make and cook nonsense. We have so many new mouths to feed. Feed and clothe and shelter, haven’t you heard? Is that why you’re here?”
Q'vettan let himself be led away from the crowd, taking her arm like they were youths cavorting around a gather. It was so easy to slip back into their old familiarity, and her touch was more than welcome since he'd left Igen. "I heard something of the sort, between the Weyr's communications and a letter from my mother." Q'vettan said with an easy chuckle. "And a note from Dragonsfall's Weyrharper, too, asking if I had any advice. Do you think many folks will want to stay permanently?"
“I think they’d be insane if they didn’t. Winter is not kind this far south and the headwoman has ordered us to give them good clothes and boots and food out of the Weyr’s own stores. I’ve seen the look in their eyes at meal service. They’re thanking their lucky stars and taking what they can,” Elhelia made a face, her disapproval clear, but Q’vettan’s question had some more disturbing implications…
“Is that the leadership’s plan?” she hissed quietly. “To let them stay _permanently_?”
Q'vettan raised a brow, amused despite the thread of tension in her tone. "Not my plan, but I expect the offer will go out." He said lightly. He leaned a hip against the table she'd led him to, watching her as she crossed her arms. Ever the same Ehelia. Her hair had more grey at the temples than the last time he saw her, but she still had that spark that made him stupid. She and Kyperion both, he expected. "I think some will want to, especially after a season of full bellies and warm beds. Be best for you and Ky keep your door locked from now on."
“Yes, we’re trying to remind each other… It’s a sharding nuisance to carry a key around and let ourselves in and out, but it’s better than coming back and finding the place stripped.” She sighed. Locked doors were simply not The Way in her section of the Caverns. They were all old families that had grown up alongside each other and trusted each other with everything from their secrets to borrowing a few eggs. “Things have been tense. No one knows what they’ll do next. There was a fight in the camp the other day -- between themselves, so no great loss there. But I also caught one trying to swipe a pair of gloves a rider _clearly_ left out to dry outside their weyr-- she told me she thought they were _abandoned_.”
“Utterly mannerless!” She wasn’t folding her arms anymore, gesturing as she spoke, as eloquent as any Harper. “And I said, ‘Then you won’t mind if I help myself to your boots next time you take them off.’ She didn’t like that one bit. Left the gloves though. …It’s only a matter of time until something bigger happens.”
Elhelia sighed again, some of the fire banking. “I _know_ it’s not all of them. There’s some kiddies that look so scared and half-starved, it’s enough to break your heart-- but we’re all here to protect Pern-- and by that, I mean Fight Thread. What are we supposed to do with scores of holdless? Will the tithe stretch? I know our stores were _not_ ready to shoe this many people at once. The Headwoman has half the staff scouring the Caverns for things we can give them to wear-- that’s where Ky is right now.”
Q'vettan let her finish, watching her hands move with a barely contained smile. He didn't blame her. "The Weyr isn’t built for this kind of strain," he agreed. "The occasional straggler. A young rider moving his family. Future greenrider boys fleeing home. Not scores of holdless all at once. Belts will need to be tightened for a bit, to say the least-- especially if Saibra and I'serin don't want to try and increase tithes across the protectorate. Getting them at all was a nightmare two decades ago, remember?"
“How could I forget?” She keenly remembered how Q’vettan had poured himself into the work of opening the rest of the Southern Weyrs in those rocky Turns after--well--after their affair and Qelhelias’ birth. She rarely saw him during those Turns except to meet about the boy. “You know… There was a while back then where I thought you were using that work to avoid Us…” She trailed off with a soft laugh. “But when the tithes--the full tithes--started coming to the Weyr, I saw how much of a difference those contracts made.”
"I was, a little." Q'vettan admitted, though she knew well enough how it was. He'd had a weyrmate, at the time, a promising wingthird who had refused a promotion to be more present with their own small children. She'd stayed with him despite the indiscretion, and even transferred to Igen Weyr with him when it reopened. He'd thrown himself into the contracts, the work, and didn't stray far from home.
He let the silence linger just long enough, then casually brushed a piece of stray hair from her face. "That said, I _did_ intend to utilize the archives after my many social calls today." He said quietly, "Looking for some old records from the River Bluff site. Dull work. I wouldn't mind some company, if either of you have time later?"
Ehlelia’s expression softened at his touch. “We _don’t_ have the time-- but we’ll make it happen anyway. The headwoman will have to manage somehow. It’s not often you come for a visit.” She reached out and smoothed his collar with slow deliberation, a teasing glint sparkling in her eyes. “Besides, we wouldn’t want you to get lost in those dusty old stacks by yourself.”
Then she pulled back, all business. “Now, you better get going before Cook has a fit. Just send word when you go to the archives. We’ll meet you there.”
Last updated on the April 25th 2025