2024-07-20 - Different Perspectives - 7.2

Myrcelleth kept up their sharp presence, their complete and total lack of interest in being bothered, for a long time afterwards. It felt like a long time at the very least, an exhausting time. Something that demanded their attention completely and utterly, so to have his focus be broken was reason enough for interest, even if it came down to an angry sort of response. Why do you bother me so?

The Weyrbrats - as he has learned they are called - are more of a comfort than the others. They’re pure, innocent minds, purely focused on mischief rather than on the eggs themselves. Myrcelleth certainly knew that they had had enough of that by now. They crept forward, ignoring the danger he was broadcasting like a snarl, and touched at the tent. It was charming, they had no expectations, they had no wanting of Myrcelleth. Slowly, the walls crumbled, as they tended to do with Myrcelleth. The barriers went down to little fences, enough for both children and egg to peek over the top, to sniff and say hello.

Myrcelleth firmly ignored the others, the watchful gaze from one ‘too old to stand’ - he only wanted one thing. Firmly ignored the ones painting their pretty pictures, they’re pretty lies to Shayled and Mother - they too, only wanted one thing.

They wanted Myrcelleth and the others to hatch, to choose some person to lift out of the depths of their despair to something greater - something Myrcelleth did not feel equipped to handle or help achieve. Worse still when they expected him and his to uplift the entire Weyr, to carry the hope that they all hold and behave as perfectly as can be. They expected, always expected, but rarely if ever wished well.