A/N: Well. This is kind of a pointless drabble, and unless I think of a plot/someone suggests one, it won't be continued. It's a bluerider's reaction to her/his weyrmate being killed- I think of it as being from the point of view of a girl, but it's also fairly gender neutral, I think, so if the idea of lesbian romance/a girl riding blue offends you, feel free to ignore it.
Warning: Suicide and large amounts of angst ahead.
I was mending my riding dear in anticipation of the next Fall- a minor injury had kept me out of this one, but I was nearly healed and certainly would be able to fly the Fall taking place a few days from now...my thoughts trailed off, and I looked up from my work.
Something was wrong...no, someone was going to be wrong. The sound of my breathing seemed loud and harsh. An inexplicable dread grew in the back of my mind.
The dragons keened. I knew, suddenly, with absolute certainty, that Brilla and Firth were gone.
No! I heard my mental scream as though I was somewhere else, someone else. A small, remote part of me noted that it was in perfectly in sync with Derith's. The walls of our weyr spun, and I stumbled, reacting to a movement that was only in my mind. My arm caught on the sharp corner of my dresser, and I saw blood on it. I didn't feel any pain, not really- it didn't matter. I was floating, distant, above everything else.
Then I slammed back into reality with the force of a threadscored dragon falling from the sky. Brilla. Firth. My weyrmate, and my dragon's weyrmate. Dead, gone forever. I ran, sobbing, to the ledge outside. Hands tugged at my clothing, trying to stop me, but I slipped through them- all but one. Ren, from the lower caverns, caught my arm.
I shoved violently at her, wanting only to escape- not just from the watching eyes but from reality. To escape from life, to a place where I could be as cold as ice.
Between. Between was cold. I raced to my glorious blue dragon, forcing strength into limbs that wanted to quit from exhaustion and pulled myself up, catching my hand on a smaller neck ridge. I didn't fasten my riding straps-no time. No point, either. I realized my intentions with some surprise, but no fear. If I couldn't be with Brilla, or at least know she was happy and alive somewhere, I didn't want to go on living.
Derith extended his wings and lifted us up. We didn't fly far above Ista Weyr; with no destination or desire to emerge at the end of our jump, there wasn't a reason to.
Between in all its blackness enveloped my dragon and I. I knew that soon, I wouldn't have to think, or feel- soon, I wouldn't know what there was to grieve for, or even understand the concept of grief.
Finally, I faded out, until I just wasn't. Blessed, blessed numbness surrounded me.