Vignette - Cowboys don't cry



Date: 2010.07.23
Location: Beast Manager's office and sleeping quarters
Synopsis: Max receives a letter. Seether - Rise Above This
Rating: PG13
Logger: Max

Still smarting from the events of the past few sevens, the beast manager did his last rounds in the beast caverns, before handing off to his night hand. Fishing a letter delivered earlier that day out of his trouser pocket, the dark haired young man headed toward his office and sleeping quarters to read it.

Scanning the first few lines as he went, the corner of his mouth pulled up into crooked grin, for a recent prank outlined by Dorian in it. Make that, D’ran. The ginger haired, freckle faced friend of his days at the northern Weyr had impressed in a hatching at the Reaches just short of two turns ago.

Reading as he moved about the stall with familiar ease, concern was next to cross his features when D’ran wrote of another friend badly injured in a flaming accident. Max found himself yearning to take a trip back and hook up with the old crowd again. Leave behind all the complications that had so easily found him at Eastern. Spend a few days away from the blonde goldrider with wide panicked eyes and the grey-eyed redhead with a gaze that could penetrate a man’s soul. No bronzerider bragging to all within listening distance of having shacked up with his mother, and no dark haired barmaid invading his most private dreams at night.

With a sigh he dropped to the mattress and leaned his back against the wood of the stall adjoining. Knee drawn up and arm draped over it, he read on. Suddenly his eyes stopped moving back and forth over the cramped writing, stuck on those few simple words crammed in amongst the rest describing a Gather recently attended.

…Lord and Lady Tillek with their daughter…

A bittersweet revelation that had him reading and re-reading that word, turning it over in his head, and tasting it in his mouth. From somewhere above, a splodge of water dropped and landed on the letter he held, blurring some of the earlier words together. Soon another fell, and then another, until the beast manger could no longer see what was written. The dark head dropped forward with broad shoulders shaking silently for a time, as long suppressed grief for something stolen, was given an outlet. Finally when he raised his head again, the foolish grin that flickered and tripped over the broken parts of his face was one filled with the first sign of hope seen in a very, very long time.

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