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Topics - M'ris

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Ista Weyr / Soothing Bubbles [Ameris]
« on: 09 Nov 2016 at 11:21 PM »
As M’ris listened to the Weyrlingmaster drone on about the progress of the weyrlings, he wondered not for the first time, why he had agreed to the position of Weyrleader. Sure he wanted to see bronzeriders back in their rightful place and knock the cocky brownriders back down a few pegs, and sure he loved the privileges that came with the title, but it required so much work. He wasn’t adverse to putting in some time and effort but M’ris also enjoyed his free time and being able to do what he wanted and when he wanted it. But he agreed to the position because he knew he could handle it and could help shape Ista into its former glory.

There was also the bonus that he was able to pick the goldrider he wanted as his Weyrwoman and he jumped at the chance to have Ameris at his side. He was fond of the woman but M’ris was still hesitant after all this time to still truly look at the feelings or pay anything too much thought. He enjoyed her company both for being her own woman and for the few similarities she bore to his mate he lost in exile eighteen years ago. It was hard to believe it had been that long without Sarendall but when he realized how many of those years were blurred together from depression and drinking himself into oblivion, he had a better understanding as to how he both managed to survive that long and not realize that much time had passed.

Still, Ameris wasn’t entirely like Sarendall and M’ris found himself often left intrigued by the dark-haired beauty. That in itself was surprising given how he did his best to avoid meaningful relationships and keep a bit detached from real feelings. That was one thing that actually worried him; Ameris was clever and one day would see through him, calling him out more than she already did on his behaviour and decisions.

M’ris realized the annoying background hum that was actually the Weyrlingmaster’s voice had stopped and he looked up from the sheet of paper he had been pretending to read and stopped drumming his fingers on his leg. “We’ll continue this at a later date. I have a lot on my mind at the moment. I’ll call for you when I’m ready for the report.” He waved the man away and breathed a sigh of relief as he slumped comfortably in his chair. It wasn’t entirely a lie; he did have a lot on his mind, though it wasn’t really of the professional sort. He’d been caught up thinking about his Weyrwoman, their child that was due soon, and how hard Ameris had been working to help in her portion of running Ista.

Perhaps he’d finally be able to convince her to delegate more of her duties to the other goldriders and assistants she had running around so she could rest more. Ameris had told him her pregnancy with Rislan had been easy but still he worried. He didn’t want anything to happen that would jeopardize mother or child.

That settled it.

“Mosiath, please ask your gold beauty to ask Ameris to meet me in an hour. Let her know Kelnar and his mother will come by to get Rislan for the night. The boy keeps asking to have him stayover again.” None of his children lived with him but he was a somewhat attentive dad when he could be and his youngest had grown quite fond of Ameris’ son given they were of the same age and shared many common interests. Kelnar’s mother was also a woman he trusted enough to let Rislan stay with and knew he’d be well looked after.

As the bronze dragon relayed the message, M’ris went down to the lower caverns and ordered hot water to be sent up to his weyr for his personal bath. That was one of the perks of being a Weyrleader; he didn’t have to use common baths anymore and had his own that was large enough for two, though he hadn’t had need to share it yet. Despite the evening meal having ended a short time earlier, M’ris also asked to have a tray of fruits – minus red fruit due to his severe allergy – set up for snacking on later.

Returning to his weyr, M’ris quickly tidied up random dishes and clothes he had stripped off haphazardly over the last several days and changed into a comfortable outfit for lounging around in. When the hot water was brought up, he went about preparing the bath, adding in some special soap that produced fluffy bubbles. When he was last at an Ista Hold gathering, he found out this was the latest trend for the lady Holders and while he didn’t fully understand the joy of sitting in the mountain of bubbles or like the flowery scent all that much, he wanted to treat Ameris and this seemed to be one way to do it.

Once that was completed, M’ris returned to the sitting area to wait for his guest.

High Reaches Weyr / Crossroads of the Past [Solo]
« on: 22 Oct 2016 at 01:05 AM »
He didn’t know why he was back in High Reaches after all the years spent in the South after fleeing from the Plague. He had even requested that he be Weyrleader anywhere but High Reaches when he was selected to act like an adult and run a Weyr over a year ago. But now, curiosity had the best of him and M’ris wanted to see what the old Weyr looked like now and perhaps scope out the Hold and market.

It had been difficult seeing the Weyr, still a little rough around the edges but now functioning as it once did. It still held too many memories of a time that had been happy but now brought pain when he thought on it too long. All he could think about when he idly walked the grounds was Sarendall and the time they had spent together and then the time without her after she died while in exile. It was starting to take its toll on his mental well-being and even Mosiath was beginning to point out the benefits of leaving, perhaps even for a drink, and the great bronze beast never encourage him to drink.

After doing his best to still sound sane and congratulate Weyrleader A’dris on his efforts with the Weyr, M’ris made a quick departure for the Hold’s market, intent on finding a pub. As much as he didn’t want to remain in High Reaches, he also didn’t want to return to his new home of Ista Weyr just yet and face any responsibilities and decisions waiting for him. Besides, if he still had to travel, he’d watch the amount of alcohol he was about to consume as he’d never put Mosiath’s life in risk.

Once at the pub, the bronzerider ordered two mugs of the strongest ale they had and sat down at corner table, clearly giving off the vibe he wanted to be left alone. He wasn’t normally anti-social but the trip he knew he shouldn’t have taken but did so anyway had messed too much with his head and emotions and now he just wanted to be alone. He knew he had to continue moving on with his life, which he had been doing for a while after sobering up from his binge drinking and even more recently with being a Weyrleader and being someone Ameris wouldn’t regret having to associate with thanks to their dragons’ fondness of each other and him getting her pregnant.

Having a child with the beautiful goldrider was a bit tough to handle at first since Ameris already bore a small similarity to Sarendall but it reminded him of something else that had been left in the North during their quick exit. He had had two daughters with Sarendall who were still toddlers at the time of the Plague. Thinking they wouldn’t be gone long and it was safer for the babies to stay North instead of taking the long travel South, they had left the girls with their favourite crèche worker that was going to head to the Hold and seek refuge there until they returned.

Of course, they never did, at least not until two decades later.

At the time of the reunion in what would be called Katila, M’ris didn’t give much thought to the girls as he was heartbroken over losing Sarendall to illness during the exile and simply wanting to drink away the pain when alcohol became readily available. Years passed by before M’ris permitted himself to think about the children and happy life the four of them would have had but Tsuen still had them banned from returning North and the bronzerider continued to forget about what he had and could still have and focused on rebuilding his life.

Now that he was in the North again, M’ris toyed with the idea of trying to find his daughters but he wasn’t quite sure where to begin. They’d be old enough to be married off now and could be anywhere. There was also the chance of neither of them wanting to see him or have anything to do with him. He had, after all, abandoned them and never returned.

He was halfway through his second mug when a woman entered the pub, delivered a box of food to the maid at the counter, and left again without so much as a glance around the room. It had been enough, though, for M’ris to choke on his drink and stare at the door that she had disappeared out of. The woman looked so much like Sarendall that he felt like he had seen her ghost. But he didn’t think he was that crazy yet to start seeing her again. There had been a dark time in exile that he alternated between mourning her until he wanted to die and swearing he saw her roaming around their little piece of earth that they called home. This seemed different, however, and M’ris was quickly running out the door to see if he could find the mysterious woman and confirm she was real and who she was.

He hadn’t been quick enough, though. By the time he was out the door, the woman wasn’t in sight. Whether she was a fast walker or slipped inside another building, M’ris wasn’t sure and didn’t think it’d be appropriate to ask around for her, especially if he did just make her or at least her resemblance up.

You do know there is another reason for what you saw, right? Mosiath had remained silent for most of the trip, letting his rider sort through everything on his own, but M’ris was starting to get a bit fuzzy in their connection and concern was taking over. Do you remember their names? Maybe ask around for them in that way, instead of asking for the pretty girl that delivers bread.

M’ris shot an annoyed glare in the direction he knew Mosiath was waiting and let out a huff of breath. Of course I remember their names! I drank to forget the pain, not any of my girls. Sarendall and their two daughters; Renris and Saris. Saris was only a year old when they left the girls behind but M’ris wasn’t foolish enough to think he’d be forgiven no matter what age they were then or now. Suddenly afraid of that confrontation, the bronzerider gave up on the search for the woman that looked so much like his dead mate and headed back for his dragon.

He needed to think on what he may have discovered and how to approach if he were to. How would he explain who he was? How did he justify staying away for so long, even if most of that time was against his dragon’s will to leave? Definitely questions to think on while he also pondered how much of a coward he was to see if he’d ever come back. For all he knew the girls thought he was dead and wouldn’t need to see him or they hated him and would rather believe him dead than to see what their father was really like.

Mounting up, M’ris gave the order to head back to Ista where his new life was waiting.

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Happily Plotting For

7 Years 2 Month and 17 Days

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