But... You're a Brown
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: Devin
Date Posted: 11th October 2025
Characters: M'sar
Description: Mesarian is shocked when he Impresses a brown.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 12, day 14 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: Sybana, Kavalas
A strange, beautiful humming rose over the sound of the storm and was picked up by the blue dozing on his couch. It vibrated through Mesarian. “Hey, is that . . .?”
The dragonrider beside him sat up, a smile spreading across his face. “I need to get you back down to the barracks.” He pulled Mesarian into a kiss. “Time for you to get your green.”
It was finally happening. The Hatching was here. Mesarian dressed in a rush, heart pounding with excitement . . . and a little spike of fear that he kept trying to shove back down. They said dragons could sense fear, and confidence, so by Faranth he was going to be confident when he stood in front of those eggs.
The bluerider dropped him off just outside the barracks and then headed off to transport guests. The place was a flurry of activity, everyone pulling on their white Candidate robes, most chatting excitedly while a few looked pale with nerves. The wait seemed to take forever until the Weyrlingmasters finally had them all line up and led them into the Hatching Grounds.
When they spread out around the meager clutch, Mesarian found himself almost unconsciously drifting toward the other holdless. Funny how so many of them had ended up getting Searched. Wouldn’t it just stick in Sybana’s craw if more than one of them Impressed . . .
And then the eggs began to rock and Mesarian’s whole world narrowed down to sand and shells and hope. The first dragonet appeared and Mesarian’s heart leapt. A green! And it was heading toward him! **Come here, big girl.** Mesarian lifted a hand, half reaching for her.
And then she ran into Kavalas. Mesarian would have found it hilarious if not for the hot jealousy and bitter disappointment that twisted through him. No, there were other eggs. He still had a chance.
The next few hatchlings went for weyrbrats. Ok, fine. There was still more than half the clutch left, small as it was. A blue headed toward the loose group of holdless. Yes, a blue. Maybe Mesarian had been a little too fixated on greens.
With an edge of something he didn’t want to admit was desperation, he took a few steps after the sleek blue. **Over here, come on.** If he could just get the hatchling to _look_ at him . . . Mesarian took a few more steps. **I would take such good care of you. I would love you fiercely and never let anything hurt you.**
Someone grabbed his robe and yanked him to a stop. Those other assholes better not be trying to�"
}:Stop that Mesarian! Don’t you see that I am _here_?:{
The voice was louder than anything else, cutting through all the noise of the Hatching Ground, and it took Mesarian a moment to realize it was in his _head_. He turned and then blinked in confusion at the huge brown hatchling pulling at his robe.
“What?” Where was the green, or the blue, that had spoken to him?
}:No. You are _mine_!:{ The dragonet let go of the robe and spread his wings, still wet from the egg, as if to ward off his siblings.
Mesarian stared, frowning in confusion. This was impossible. “But . . . you’re a brown. I like men.”
}:So?:{ It somehow felt like complete dismissal and complete acceptance all at once, and Mesarian fell into shimmering rainbow eyes.
Love. Love like he’d never known. The sensation crashed into him, rushing through his mind and body, better than any orgasm. The ice he’d built around his heart cracked like a waterfall thawing in spring.
“Nazoth. Nazoth.” He was on his knees, arms wrapped around his dragon, tears streaming down his face.
}:Yes, I love you. Now get up and feed me:{ Nazoth nudged him with his large muzzle.
Mesarian laughed as he stumbled to his feet. He hated people telling him what to do, but it was completely different when it was his own dragon. When he could feel the hunger gnawing at his lifemate’s stomach. Setting a hand on the brown’s neck, he led Nazoth toward the feeding buckets. Shards, he really was _big_, with a warm golden brown hide. The most beautiful dragon Mesarian had ever seen.
No one could ever take Nazoth away from him. He really, truly, _belonged_ at the Weyr now, and no one could kick him out. He was a _brownrider_. How was that possible? How had he gotten a _brown_?!?
}:Because you were the best.:{ Nazoth glanced up at him, mindvoice full of unshakable certainty.
Aw, feck. No, Mesarian was _not_ going to start crying again.
Shards, he was going to have a new name, too. M’rian? M’ran?
}:Your name is M’sar now,:{ Nazoth said firmly.
The new brownrider chuckled and rubbed his headknobs. **Guess that settles it.**
Once Mesarian of nowhere and nothing. Now M’sar of brown Nazoth, rider of Dragonsfall.
Last updated on the October 30th 2025