Ashes to ashes - {Jack}

[Purnip]

Do you remember a guy that's been
In such an early song
I've heard a rumour from Ground Control
Oh no, don't say it's true

For a kid like him, there was precious little to do at a time like this. He had no special skills that could be of any use to anyone. Because of the urgency and unpredictability of the situation, the adults preferred to handle everything themselves and leave the children to their own devices. This included the teenagers like himself who hadn't worked a day of his life, unless one counted four years of attempting to survive 'work experience'. Turlough had performed whatever simple chores were available to those like himself. He was, essentially, a delivery boy.

The younger ones were hardly without messages, goods, or tools to deliver from here to there. Though they had no skill, they had a pair of hands and a pair of legs {well, most of them}. Turlough had in fact been sent on several errands just this morning. This afternoon he managed to catch a break. With the roll left over from his kitchen rations, he sat by the lake's edge, nibbling the outer shell of the roll while gazing out into oblivion.

He was not thinking about his past. He had taken his own beliefs mixed with that Healer's words and he understood that in order to keep living, he needed to save for himself that desire to survive. His memories were hardly supporting of self-preservation. Instead, what he did think about, was of what little he knew about the dragons that some day he would be standing in line to Impress.

Just yesterday he learned the Gold dragon's name--Sereldeth. He knew that she was pregnant, soon to lay eggs, and that her mate had died of VT. Turlough had no idea that dragons could be effected by VT. It was terrifying to imagine. An infected human was bad enough. A dragon would have little trouble slashing through your hiding place. It'd have little trouble whatsoever digging you up or overtaking you on the run. He was surprised that infected dragons hadn't been mentioned at all. Perhaps they committed suicide before they went mad? Turlough remembered from what he managed to overhear that dragons had a sense of pride and a strong bond to their human riders. They would go between, which was supposed to be a cold void, and never return.

But what of the young ones? Turlough didn't know how much contact it took to transfer a disease. He also didn't know if the dragons mated before or after the dragon that caught Sereldeth contracted it. If he had it before, what would become of the babes? Turlough's imagination reeled, though it didn't get too far. It was likely they would all be still born or brain dead. That was what happened to anyone with the virus. They would lose their minds and die. Or perhaps the very opposite would occur. The babies could end up being immune to the effects. In that case, they would be ideal forerunners of a new generation. Well, for the dragonriders, he hoped it was the later.

Turlough didn't give his own Candidacy much thought. There were no dragonriders in his family, as far as he knew. No searchdragon ever landed on their hold's grounds--not even for a pit stop. He was chosen out of desperation. It was nothing but a desperate search for any firm-minded individual left after this massive disaster. If those dragonets survived, they deserved champion riders, not just whatever leftovers that could be found.

Yet he didn't fancy himself a 'leftover'. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with his life now, aside from live. As a kid he didn't aspire to much; he either wanted to be a successful trader like his dad or a traveler in general. He didn't really want to be a trader though. He used to say that to please his father, but he didn't like all the work his dad had to do. He was never really home. Then of course, life turned upside down and the only thing that mattered was survival. Now that it was all taken care of, in one way and another, he was left with his future in front of him. Undecided.

Turlough didn't mind then, trying a hand at this dragonrider business. If he didn't Impress or whatever it was that he was supposed to do at the Hatching to get one of those dragons to approve of him, he would probably try to do something useful. He just didn't want to get too hopeful about this Impression thing. He didn't want yet another disappointment in life to deal with.

They got a message from the Action Man
"I'm happy, hope you're happy too.
I've loved all I've needed to love
Sordid details following."

[/i][/size]

[Jack]

It was a rare thing, L'natic on the move, but when it happened, people scattered. Today was one of those days, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses and his brows knit as he stalked across the grounds mumbling various what nots beneath his breath. The man's shoulders were hunched, his chin tucked slightly as he walked, and his strides were long with importance. He seemed dead-set to get somewhere--though no one knew quite where--and it was obvious he was quite keen on not being interrupted. It was certainly no surprise, then, that no one bothered to stop him along his way.

Bravesth too--an even rarer thing--joined him this day, the dragon's long strides casual to L'natic's quick ones, but still with that strange sense of urgency. Like his rider, the Blue held his maw in a stern line, but he held his head high, and lashed his tail once and a while. Upon L'natic's shoulder, Chukachu seemed to be the only one not interested in the least in today's business, the spoiled creature coiled partially around the man's throat with her head tucked stubbornly beneath her wings.

The healer paused a ways from his hideaway, lifting his chin to survey the area as he fiddled with his glasses absently, frown spreading across his lips. He was covered in blood today, a day of fishing gone wrong having made its appearance already, and he grunted as he wiped a bit of the wetter crimson from his cheek, spreading it into a line that drooped down his throat. Absently he looked down at his fingers, and seemed to scowl at the crimson across his palm, immediately rubbing it across his pants as though trying to be rid of it. The freshest layer came off easily...but the dry layer was too stubborn to be moved.

Seeming to be annoyed now, the man huffed and continued along his way, Bravesth giving a curt hum at his side. They duo approached the lake now, and Bravesth hung back, standing further from the bank to watch as L'natic made quick work of the distance between himself and the only other human being on the shore.
"Up and at them, lad." The man barked, his only warning before he wrenched Turlough to his feet, holding him still with one hand as he pulled a measuring tape from his pocket with the other. His motions were quick and sure as he held the tape from head to foot, humphing to himself at the measurements. "Yes, you'll do. Short enough certainly."

Without another word he tucked away his measuring tape and grasped Turlough's wrist, tugging him in front of L'natic before the healer began to prod him along with a short stick he'd seemed to pull out of nowhere. "Come along then! I have use of your lack-of-height. Quite useful, you mini-humans, but only if you're where you're supposed to be!" He jabbed him again, clucking his tongue with a frown as though to encourage the boy. A second, louder cluck was clearly an order, and promptly following by another jab. "Well hurry it up now!"

[Purnip]

At the sound of the familiar voice, Turlough came out of his little trance immediately. Had he remained in such a transitional state, he might have been surprised by the sudden contact. Without resistance, he let himself be brought to his feet and measured with the constitution of a servant or saint. The only form of opinion he gave was a very sarcastic "Hello to you too, L'natic" as he his height was being studied. He wasn't offended by the action overall. He didn't expect to escape labor for long and he didn't mind doing anything for a Healer. Their matters were usually the most pressing these days. He did keep in mind however that this was L'natic, the sort of man who supports the idea of 'survival of the fittest' with earnest. Trusting this Healer with his heart and soul could still get him horribly injured, if not killed. A part of him was unable to fathom even this Bluerider would put his life in so much danger however. Or so he hoped. It would have been pointless to have been the only survivor his his family thusfar to die when the worst of the dangers were through.

Not bothering to ask what exactly he was short enough for, Turlough let his wrist get grabbed up with the same patience as before, but it when it came to the prodding with a stick, he swiped away at it with his other hand, unwilling to settle for such further discomfort. "You can quit poking me with that, you know. I get the picture." That was just about as much protest as he was going to make. Though he wasn't sure just how dreadful his next task may be, he had a feeling it couldn't have been that serious. A man like this might just get to such a flustered level if say, he dropped that strange metal glove he had back at his office under some heavy cart. But then why couldn't the lizard on his shoulder fetch it? She was quite smaller than he, but with one carefully placed stare he could tell that Chukachu wasn't going to be up to any sort of labor. Well, it would give him something to do. As of this moment the only thing that irked him about this entire situation was the occasional prod.

Even the comments about his height didn't bother him. His shortness, or rather 'averageheightedness' for a lad his age, was what saved his life in a couple of fixes. Turlough did quicken his pace when the last jab caught him in the center of his lower back, though he had the urge to turn around and snatch the stick from L'natic's hand and throw it into the lake. He knew that chances were the Bluerider would tell him to fetch it, and being the dog that he was, Turlough would do so. The boy didn't really care about being bossed around by his superiors, though he only let those at The Weyr have the final say on what he was to do. That was where his loyalties were lying, for now. So far, this was the one place he could tell was most likely to last after all the devastation. He'd rather be close to the fire-breathing dragons than the wide world filled with scared and stupid people.

[Jack]

Turlough's pace increased a tiny bit and L'natic let a tilt of a smirk curl onto his lips as he tossed the stick to the side, leaving it far behind as he himself took the lead, wrapping his fingers firmly around Turlough's wrist. "By 'hurry', I meant accelerate." he barked, tugging the boy forward at an even faster rate, "This is not exactly the time to dilly dally."

A moment passed, and Bravesth surged ahead with a single bound, crouching down in the path of both. Not even halting his pace, L'natic clambered onto the Blue's broad shoulders, pulling Turlough up and in front of him. A loud cluck and Chukachu was gone, one of L'natic's arms wrapping firmly around Turlough's waist as Bravesth leaned back slightly and launched into the air, broad wings pumping him up into the sky as he bulldozed his way through the still breeze above the Weyr. He glided for a fair distance, cutting into a tight spiral at the very end, but landed surprisingly quickly, hitting the ground with a rumbling bang as he moved into a run rather than stop dead. Only when he was meters away from the opening to a small cave did he slam on the brakes, every inch of him coming to a complete stop as he arched to absorb the shock, and then laid flat on his belly.

L'natic slid off quickly, Chukachu curling about his shoulders like the regal thing she was, and pulled Turlough with him, strangely delicate as he carefully slid the boy into his grip and then set him down without yanking him about. The man's fingers lingered thoughtfully on the Candidate's shoulders for a moment as he turned his attention to the cave, and then promptly slid into it, forced to crawl on all fours for a little ways before it opened up, and he settled in a crouch next to a narrow hole. He peered into it--a glow covered in mud lighting the way--and said nothing about the clear signs of someone desperately trying to reach into it, nor the mud staining the underside of his arm and sides.

"You still alive, creature?"
A quiet sob came as a response, and L'natic was unable to mask the subtle frown that came onto his lips, brows knit in distress as he curled his fingers into the mud and looked straight at Turlough. "I am not entirely certain how she fell, but she has been in here for twenty-four candlemarks from what I can understand." He shifted, peering down the hole, and only belatedly hid the concern that slid onto his features. "My shoulders are too broad--no matter how I try, I can only brush the tips of her fingers when she is reaching up. Unfortunately, she is not strong enough to climb up a rope, and seems to be too young to understand when I tell her to hold onto anything...or perhaps too weak. You should be able to reach her, and I can hold on to you to make certain you don't get stuck either. Will you do this for me? If we cannot get her out soon, she will die. To be completely honest, I don't know how she's survived this long.."

[Purnip]

Taking the Bluerider seriously, and this was never an issue to begin with, Turlough sped up as instructed. The only thing that slowed him down, for but a moment, was the realization that the Healer was covered head to toe in blood. Now this couldn't have been good. The boy's head filled with all sorts of guesses involving the origin of that substance that so showered L'natic thoroughly. He would have been a liar if he hadn't admitted that one or two of those guesses involved the Healer and a patient turned victim. He didn't bring any of this up; he hadn't had the time to. As soon as he was really starting to catch up, Bravesth was kneeling in their path and L'natic was upon the Blue's back with the intention of taking the red-head with him.

In all of his life, Turlough could admit to never having ridden a dragon until today. If you were to ask him how it was like, his reply would be something like this--Mostly uncomfortable. Minus the sense of displacement when you're up in the air, and the shifting of gravity, and the lack of control, and etc...it was simply a bumpy and chaffing sort of ride. Once he was seated on the back of this great big Blue beast, Turlough had this very anxious feeling deep down in his ancestral roots that he was at the right place. The rest of those roots however, more numerous in their bundles, felt wronged in every way. In conclusion, there was a very strong sense of fear with a but a slight of anticipation. Off the ground and into the sky, all that fear pretty much slipped away in place of discomfort. It was not unlike riding a horse without a saddle for the first time. You know this'll make you sore later. It's a given.

But predictably, the boy didn't complain. He manned through it with a concentrated expression all the while. Though the flight only lasted about a minute or so, it felt longer due to all the pain. Ridges were such formidable things for a reason. As the Healer started to help him down, Turlough gave up on the focus towards the pain and put his focus into the Bluerider. Was he being nice? Well, it did make sense in the grand scheme of things. L'natic was asking a favor of him after all {though this was surely more of a 'demand' rather than a favor}.

The partially collapsed cave was a dead giveaway. "Someone's stuck in there," he said, stating what he believed had to be the obvious. The Healer was farther ahead however and likely hadn't caught on to the remark. It wasn't remarkable anyhow. It was an educated guess, not a prediction. He didn't hesitate to start crawling in after L'natic, plowing through the narrower part of the crevice with more ease than the Healer only because indeed he was smaller in size. They then reached a more open portion of the cave, where the Candidate found himself more at ease to slow himself and squat beside L'natic as he started to call into a much narrower hole than the one they had just crawled through.

The task was obvious to him the moment he had seen the cave. He was supposed to help save someone. Turlough was no medic, nor was he ever given any proper first aid training of any sort, but he did know by some experience courtesy of the two past turns of hell that moving an injured person was a delicate operation. Half that woman's organs could be hanging out, if that whimpering down there was indeed feminine. L'natic seemed to know, calling this poor little victim a 'she' as he explained the situation. An immediate response from the primal centers of his brain urged to discontinue any acts or even any mere thoughts on a selfless act of bravery such as this. You could fall, and then where would you be? The boy that died after all the dying was supposed to be done. The hole was pretty dark and foreboding. If he slipped and fell into it, he would have to wait until L'natic fetched yet another munchkin to haul them up, unless the Bluerider thought them lost causes. What saved everyone the trouble of a reluctant Turlough was the fact that L'natic had indeed fetched someone for this woman and therefore he could only hope that the same would be done if he too took a fall. He could only hope. Plus, the woman's cries were starting to get to him.

"Tie up a rope and I'll squeeze through. I should be able to help her up if she's in one piece," he sighed and licked his upper lip, which started to sweat. "If she isn't, you're going to have to tell me what to do next." Glancing to L'natic, unafraid to look even this man in the eye, he knew that he might not have anyone's respect for his entire life unless he was ever to have any children some sunny day, but he was willing to work for others if they could work with him should the need arise. He didn't want to have someone else's blood on his hands, and especially any of his own.