Testing Boundaries (1/2)
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, Duskdog
Date Posted: 24th April 2025
Characters: Sybana, N'dhavi
Description: In his quest to gain information and form connections, Naldhavi approaches Sybana with a little white lie.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 5, day 15 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: Saibra
If Dragonsfall Weyr was going to be his home -- short-term, or long-term -- Naldhavi wanted to know everything about it. Not the _history_, really. All that seemed so far away and irrelevant. Who cared about history? No, he wanted to know all about the places, the people, the customs, the way things were done -- things that he felt were interesting and useful to know in the here and now. He had explored quite a bit, taking note of where he was welcome and where he overtly wasn’t, and the in-between places where people took notice of him as an outsider and seemed uncomfortable with his presence even if they didn’t see any need to run him off. An embarrassed laugh and nervous apology for getting lost was his fall-back if anyone said anything about his presence, and it rarely failed him.
The people were even more interesting. He watched them to figure out who was important -- both rank-wise and socially -- and listened for names and tried to take note of as many of them as he could. Ingratiating himself to the right people could be useful, as well as avoiding the wrong ones, but honestly, his curiosity often won out over his sense of caution. Dragonsfall was just an interesting place! The Weyr was nothing like the places he had spent time in before.
Still, approaching the most elite seemed a bridge too far. He didn’t really have any good excuse to do so, and maybe it was better if he wasn’t under their scrutiny at the moment, anyway -- not when he still wasn’t really sure of his place here (or if it was even permanent). The weyrling goldrider, however, was a possibility. She occupied an interesting place -- still new, still untrained, and yet also someone special, someone who could perhaps put in a good word for him in the future if he ever needed one. The guards were a bit of an obstacle, and made him wary (why were the goldriders under guard, anyway?), but… well, it was a good chance to test a boundary. If he was friendly and unthreatening, would they intervene and turn him away? Would _she_?
If he was completely honest with himself, his decision to give it a try was probably helped along by the fact that she was also drop-dead gorgeous.
The Dining Hall seemed like the best place -- public, but full of people worrying about their own business. He couldn’t possibly have bad intentions if he approached her there, could he?
When he spotted her leaving her table after dinner, he came up to her openly, with a friendly smile that he tried to infuse with just a hint of nerves. “Excuse me, I hope I’m not interrupting. You’re Sybana, right? Do you have a minute to talk?”
Sybana turned with a smile-- a smile that faltered as she took in the knotless man before her. Holdless. There was a flicker of alarm across her otherwise lovely features, brief but unmistakable.
She recovered quickly--as she had been raised to, trained to--falling back to a shield of politeness and dignity she met Naldhavi’s gaze. She didn’t let her eyes stray his shoulder again, though it was obscenely unadorned. Nor did she look to her guard, who she felt draw closer. She was determined not to care overmuch. It was _he_ who should be cautious, not her.
“Yes, I am,” she said, her voice a perfect blend of hospitable warmth and deliberate distance. “…Can I help you?”
The offer was more a formality than an invitation, born from noble obligation rather than any true interest. A reminder, in tone and word, of who held the power here. That gave her comfort.
He had been half-expecting rejection, or at the very least dismay overtaken by an attempt at politeness, but he missed the way her smile briefly faltered and, bolstered by the lack of poor reaction, took her warmth at face value.
His own smile widened, more genuine. “I hope so. Somebody pointed a few of you weyrlings out to me earlier, and I’ll admit, you’re the most recognizable one, so when I saw you, I remembered.” He ran a hand through his hair, going for slightly sheepish. “You see, I’ve just been Searched, and I’m… really not up on all the dragon and Weyr stuff yet. I can’t decide if I should accept or not, and I was really hoping you could give me some perspective, as someone who recently Impressed?”
“You were _Searched_?” she echoed, incredulous, and now her dismay was quite clear. “By who?”
The real question, of course, was why.
What rider thought it wise to offer a holdless man--of unknown criminality--the chance to bond to a dragon? Sybana stared at him, quite untouched by his smile and almost boyish ways. He was old enough, she imagined, to have earned his exile rather than been born into it. Were those the hands of a thief? The eyes of a killer?
He hadn’t quite expected that. She seemed welcoming enough until he mentioned Search. It’s true that he didn’t know anyone who had been Searched before coming here -- the dragonriders didn’t exactly frequent the places where the holdless built their lives -- but he knew the stories. It was one of those dreams, wasn’t it? A great equalizer.
It occurred to him that he hadn’t actually ever believed in any of that himself. Not really. Her reaction was, if nothing else, confirmation of what he deep-down knew to be true: it really wasn’t meant for people like him.
Something in his chest sparked to life. The obligation to _defy_ was hard to ignore.
But for now, he needed a name. Something too specific could be easily disproven. “I don’t exactly remember,” he said, putting his energy into looking embarrassed and regretful. “T’kil? T’kar? R’nar?” Those were common enough letters that surely they were close to someone’s name. “He had a beautiful blue.” Blueriders, he had learned, were common Searchriders. “I’m sure I’d know him if I saw him again. I hope I do -- I need to thank him again, even if I decide to say no.” He smiled at her again. “Who were you Searched by? Maybe it was the same person!”
“It certainly was not. I was Searched by Greenrider Zariah.” None of the names he said meant a thing to Sybana, but she filed them away for later. Saibra needed to be told.
“Well, regardless of who gave you the token, I think they did you a very bad turn.” She met his smile with an icy one of her own. “Dragonriding is a life duty and discipline. I’m sure you are used to far more… freedom.” She pronounced the word as though it meant something far darker.
Oh, so that’s how it was, then? The gloves were off, apparently.
“You’ve spent time riding the roads, too?” he asked, as earnestly as he could muster. “I never would have guessed! But I know an educated lady like yourself wouldn’t speak on something she knows nothing about, so you must be familiar with the life. I wouldn’t have been so worried about approaching you if I’d’ve known you were practically kinfolk!”
“You’re deliberately misunderstanding me,” Sybana bristled, green eyes narrowing. “I only meant that you would surely find it uncomfortable.”
“Oh, I see -- well, I really appreciate your concern, but it sounds like maybe you have no way of knowing how I would feel about anything. Given that, seems a little strange for you to have an opinion on it.”
The words had barely left his lips when a man appeared over her shoulder, his expression severe and his eyes firmly fixed on Naldhavi with an intensity that left no doubt as to _his_ feelings. Naldhavi didn’t actually have his face committed to memory, but by the knots he knew the name.
Weyrsecond M’kayre.
Last updated on the April 25th 2025