What It Takes (1/2)

Writers: Iluva
Date Posted: 10th October 2025

Characters: A'garyn, L'kav, T'sarun
Description: Aegaryn finds out what the dragons think
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 7, day 26 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: Galgaith (not by name), Kavalas, G'zan, R’bharra
a little cursing

A'garyn

L'kav

A month had passed since Kavalas’ Search.

In a few more, the Weyr’s youngest gold would be matured enough to rise, and already people were talking about it. More Searches. More eggs. More coils of unease in Aegaryn's gut.

More nagging reminders of how he still hadn’t made a move.

Three months under Dragonsfall’s protection meant they were practically weyrfolk themselves now, more or less. Weyrfolk and holdless weren’t actually all that different -- for two groups of people that liked food, fighting, and fucking like they did, thus far they’d managed to coexist if they chalked the rest up to ‘cultural differences'. Three months had been enough to map this place the way he needed, but time still felt unnatural like this. The days measured themselves in stiff increments, and he was always waiting for the next one. Those walls were invisible but no less confining.

Now the cool sun dipped just behind Dragonsfall’s cliffs, lingering dimly. Aegaryn stood in their shadow with Zolta pressed close, her jaw warm against his cheek, her croon soft with reassurance. She sensed the urgency in him as he kept his eyes on the comings and goings of the dragons from the candidate barracks, looking to find one of the two holdless-friendly Searchriders that had accepted the others. Nervousness flickered low and dim inside him, but this was just another task. One more thing to be done.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
Not only was the light fading but the air was cooling, his stomach growling. He scanned the ledges with growing familiarity, slowly learning who belonged where. His and Zolta’s breaths twisted through the air in soft plumes, but he couldn’t locate the one he sought. G’zan and R'bharra's locations were unknown and would have to stay that way.

Then he spotted an unfamiliar green landing outside the barracks for the second time that day. Not G’zan’s, but worth a shot. Aegaryn stroked Zolta’s cheek and sent her off, crunching through the snow toward the pair.

The rider asked him the expected variety of questions. Aegaryn kept his answers vague; details of a life he hadn’t actually lived.

This Searchrider was older, tall, and dark-haired, and introduced himself as L'kav, who spoke profusely and leaned proudly next to his elegantly-lined green dragon, a surly, haughty-looking creature with blazing rubies beneath the lids of her eyes. Whether irritated or irritable, she hissed at the suggestion she get closer.

Aegaryn said nothing, hands rooted loose in his pockets, all the while studying the scars littering the greenrider’s hands. Relaxed was easy to feign, difficult to fully achieve. And waiting felt like pulling a raging sea’s surface perfectly tight, ignoring how it ached for release.

Evidently she wouldn’t be rushed. Distantly, Aegaryn felt his heart sawing against his ribs. He was somewhere else. He wanted to be somewhere else. He forced himself to focus, to stare at her. Kavalas had told him about Panghuth taking a liking to him, at least enough for it to be passed on at the time of his Search.

Aegaryn did not get that impression from Feyonth.

She inclined her delicately wedge-shaped head to her rider, nudging him. }:I don’t like him.:{

**You don’t have to, love.** L’kav suppressed a smile. **But… just decide if he should be someone else’s problem. Someone else might want that.**

}:I _know_.:{ She grumbled, }:But I still don't like him.:{

Aegaryn’s mask of impassivity dropped when the greenrider turned, and said:

“So, Aegaryn,” his drawl lit with a pleasant lilt, “Feyonth says it's your lucky day. Congratulations. You are Searched.” Aegaryn tried not to expose too much doubt for Feyonth's decision with such a hostile color in her eyes, but the greenrider caught his gaze, waving his stylus. “Oh, psh, ignore that part. Fey just doesn't like people.”

The green finally looked away, now whirling her eyes aggressively at her rider. }:Can we go now?:{

L’kav scratched his nose with the side of the stylus, trying not to snort. **Not yet.** He soothed apologetically, a few points getting jotted down in a thin notebook while absently tucking her ire into the back of his mind. Most things about most candidates were unpleasant for her, but she’d done well. Glancing up amicably, L’kav added, “Hey, so a couple of your buddies were already Searched, too. Weren’t they? That’ll liven lessons up a bit for you.” **And the Weyrlingmasters.**

“Yeah.” Aegaryn smiled a precisely polite amount. “Sir, you mentioned you were new at this. Do you know what to do-?”

“Yes,” L’kav looked momentarily indignant. "Of course I do. So, of course you _are_ Searched. Feyonth doesn’t need to do anything else here. But it is Weyr policy that I confirm the Search with another pair. Someone who ‘knows what to do’. Every one Fey’s done’s been verified, though, so don’t worry.” L’kav flashed a shit-eating grin. “Hm, but it’ll be almost dinner now... Can you meet back here after? The hidework should only take a few minutes to get together. I can get a colleague lined up by then, too.”

Aegaryn looked Feyonth over with a critical eye. The thinnest film of curiosity forming somewhere in the murk. “Thank you, sir. I’m… not sure I’m going to go ahead with it, though.” If this was her idea of a joke, he could admit it was a pretty good one.

L’kav nodded empathetically. “It's alright to take your time. There isn't even a clutch on the Sands or a gold to go up for a little while, so think about it as much as you need to. Sleep on it. There’s no rush.” The greenrider smiled, pocketing his notes. “A few kids always come in here with their eyes only on the eggs, but this is a life of self-sacrifice in a lot of ways. And that only works out for some of us.

“And if you do accept, you wouldn’t be the first to waver, or change your mind later on. The name of the game is Choice, for the dragons and for you. Hatchings are exciting, but they can be _hard_. Either way-- hold onto your token when you get it. That’s what you’ll need for the Headwoman when you decide.” Aegaryn caught that, twice-- when, not if. “Oh, sorry. Do you have any questions?”

“No.” Aegaryn answered.

He sat with the other Holdless for the evening meal as usual, though didn’t eat much. His stomach ached and had he not been increasingly uneasy now he might have caved and pulled Kav aside and told him where he was going, just to feel like something somewhere was actually right.

But he invented an excuse-- he wouldn’t even remember what-- and slipped away, heart in his ears. This new Searchrider L'kav brought was the seasoned, scruffy, leathery type -- a grizzled old bluerider by the name of T’sarun. His blue regarded Aegaryn with the same barely curdled suspicion as Feyonth. Worse, maybe. Overlooking a veteran blue’s reaction couldn’t be done the way he could an untested green. If anything it weighed heavier given how long this dragon had been at it. Given how long he stared at him.

The old bluerider asked his age. Aegaryn gave it, and a few questions later ended up having to repeat it.

On the page ‘E-i-k-a-r-i-n’ lay etched in the greenrider's blocky handwriting.

T’sarun mouthed the name scrawled there, mostly angled toward L’kav, speaking low. “So, he wants…” He looked Aegaryn over properly for the first time, the man's eyes squinted at him beneath bristly eyebrows like he'd only just crawled out of some filthy hole in the ground, feral and ferox. “So, you want to be a candidate?”

“Yes, sir,” Aegaryn answered with a curt nod.

T’sarun did not seem convinced by those two clearly affirmative words. The crevices of his face folded into a frown. “A turn,” he said, the word an accusation.

Aegaryn watched the rider steadily reddening, white ear-hairs stark against the flush.

“You’ll barely have a turn as a candidate.” T’sarun continued with a scoff.

L’kav blinked, sensing the mood shifting quickly. “Yes, but that hardly matters--”

“A lot of work ahead of you, if you're chosen. Actual people depending on you. The word for that - is responsibility, Eikarin. Doubt you’ve heard that one before.”

Aegaryn tensed as cold spite drove concentrated in his chest. He tamped it down, pushed it somewhere. The only thing missing was his angry gold firelizard turning up while this geriatric bluerider voiced what most already thought: ‘you can’t just walk out, rob, or kill everyone, son.’

T’sarun gestured for the greenrider to turn his ear. “L’kav, lad. Listen-- save some time with this lot. A bed and a meal’s all they want-- that's _it_. We'd be better off cuttin’ them off now, before they all get too deep in the pot.”

Well, beds and meals, yes, obviously-- though the old man forgot clothing, ale, and general hygiene and safety.

Either way, this wasn’t going as well as either Aegaryn or L’kav had hoped.

A minute passed, or maybe an hour. Aegaryn stood off to the side like a bored, guilty child at his parents’ quarrel while the two riders spoke in hushed voices amongst themselves. He strained to listen, caught between curiosity and the temptation to cut his losses. The only thing he caught beyond individual words and the name R’bharra was: “They can't all be-”

T’sarun was right about that, too.

Last updated on the October 18th 2025

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What It Takes (1/2)