The Fault Line Of Duty [Kat]

[Bre]

I can try and suck it up . . .

Ro'za was taking another dawn watch. She despised the mornings, but it gave her time to think. She paced back and forth along the guard heights. A wild blue had shown up for Altaph's flight. He had since disappeared, but it was both a good and worrisome sign. He was the only wild simourv to be seen in years and it left the question of where had they all gone? Couldn't they sense that there were others of their kind here? Muttering under her breath, she continued to pace, eyes focused on the horizon as her feet past delicately over the stone of the heights. Distracted and distant, she moved with grace, the harshness she was capable of showing temporarily removed. One of her hands glided across her side, coming to rest at the sword she carried at her hip. She did not expect koxi, but her eyes continued to endlessly scan the skyline.

Quiet and mindful, Eceph sat behind her drifting rider, absorbed with their duties and her own thoughts. Her own sharp eyes were fixed on the woods, watching for signs of anything that might be coming to them. Her thoughts were mostly about Altaph's three little eggs. Forty-nine riders would soon become fifty-two. They were growing, which did her proud. Despite the many things she had to amuse her, between duty and knowledge, the time that she had spent in that position had taken a toll on her. Carefully, she shifted her weight to the side and resettled her wings against her back. The adjustment took only a few seconds. Then she was still once again. Unnecessary movement did not suit her when she was on watch. Her focus had to be absolute; her productivity had to be miraculous. There were eggs to guard, even if they weren't hers.

Together, the Phoenix and the gray made a fascinating but silent pair. They stood their watch. They did their duty, consumed by concerns and considerations. The stress was mounting, but they could do nothing but think that everyone else was feeling the same. All around them was a harsh reality. They lived in a beautiful world. Far in front of them, the Pohonian sun, the far distant sun, was rising, turning the sky the most graceful, natural shades of red and orange. However, it was a dangerous world and they stood as protectors, in charge of an unprepared military force. Watch duty may have been boring and tiring, but it was peaceful for them, a moment of respite in the eye of the storm. Ro'za continued with her pacing, pausing only on brief occasions; her eyes never wandered from their watch. Eceph shifted only slightly when a breeze blew up.

. . . I just can't suck it up.

[Kat]

Ros’n hated dawn watch, but she accepted the slots that were handed to her, and since she was in a position in the Eyrie with some leadership, she felt that she had to accept even responsibilities which she did not want.That concept meant that she had to take one of the most disliked watches in her own shift, the night watch, which she preformed every other night in the company of her large blue. Ros’n had grown up in a manner which lacked any semblance of an authority figure; her mother had been more a child than a woman, and Ros’n had always had responsibility she did not want. Ros’n might not admit to that fact, as she liked to pretend she had possessed no responsibility before she went on that hunting party all those years ago, but it was true. And so she accepted her fate and took the watch that she did not want. No one else wanted it either, and Ros’n was not about to allow the watch to go unattended. Wegmeph approved of Ros’n’s conviction, and he had no qualms with the all night monitoring. Ros’n had been awake all night, and her clothing look wrinkled and ill-fitting on her body, as it reflected her own exhausted state. She had kept her neck and head wrapped in a large, damask scarf. Her hair was covered by the purple fabric, but underneath the scarf, it was pulled into a loose ponytail. She had not cut it since the summer, and it was much longer than it had been six months before. It now swished down her back, unless she pulled it back from her face. She usually, in the winter, opted to keep it down, so that her neck remained warm, but Ros’n kept her hair up because of her need to focus on the Chydyn landscape when she was on watch, and she had not yet taken it down. She would before she bathed, which would, hopefully, be after she slept.

Wegmeph fluttered to the unoccupied ledge on the guard heights. He needed a moment to collect himself before they returned to their Eyling. From the ground, neither simourv nor human could see the color or shape of the simourv attending to the current Eyrie watch, so the identity of the rider and simourv was unclear. Once they arrived on the guard tower, though, Ros’n realized that the pair was none other than Ro’za and Eceph. Ros’n was not at all close to the Pheonix, who honestly, intimidated her a bit. Ros’n was perfectly willing to sit in silence, to not acknowledge the Phoenix at all, while Wegmeph rested. It would only be a second, hopefully, before the blue relented and returned to the ground and then to their bed. But Wegmeph nipped at the inside of Ros’n’s elbow from his seat next to her, and after gasping a bit in surprise, she turned towards Ro’za. Ros’n knew exactly which one of her thoughts warranted the nip, as it had occurred when she had briefly flirted with the idea of not talking to Ro’za. Ros’n turned and she bowed her head into a small nod, and then she turned her face into a grand smile.
”Good morning, Phoenix; I'm sorry if I am bothering you.”
Ros’n stated and then she turned back so that she looked over the Eyrie again, her gaze focusing on the landscape which folded out before her. The Eyrie was actually quite beautiful, Ros’n realized, and she sighed as she gazed at the scope of it.

But after a few seconds, Ros’n noticed the beginning of a nudging question in her mind. She bit her lip, as she tried to decide whether or not she wanted to ask her question. She did not want to bother the Pheonix, and from what Ros’n had seen, the woman was easily bothered. Still, the impulsive woman could only muse about a question for so long without asking it. She brought her hand to stroke Wegmeph’s flank, a small, nervous tick.
”Were you nervous, about Eceph’s clutch?”
Ros’n asked, and her voice was quiet and unusually meek. She did not want the other woman to think she was scared or bothersome. And asking unwarranted and unprovoked questions while the other woman worked was bothersome and irritating. The fact that Ros’n was so worried about the hatchlings was silly. All she could think about was if they would hatch, or if they would be too small, or if they would impress at all. It was a terrifying contemplation, and Ros’n could not let it slide. She wanted Wegmeph to be proud of his hatchlings, and she wanted the hatchlings to reflect well on her simourv. And besides G’len, who Ros’n was not close to by any means, Ro’za was the only one to have experienced anything near Ros’n’s current stress.

((EDIT: This has been fixed.))

[Bre]

Don't patronize, I realize . . .

Ro'za's eyes darted to Ro'sn and Wegmeph as they arrived and Eceph shifted where she stood. However, the bluerider and her simourv were no threat to them and they focused their attention on the matter at hand. While it may have been chilly, neither showed much sign of bother. Ro'za didn't hold the stillness that her gray did, but her worn, boyish features looked chiseled from stone, rough and cut by the weather by unfazed by it. While the energy was there, she was losing her youthfulness, slowly but surely. She did not really miss it. When dealing with councilman and elders, it did her no good. Soon enough, perhaps after Eceph's second clutch, she would just be the Phoenix, little more. She lived for her position, her job, her duty. It was not an easy life, but she found pride in it all. She knew that there was no honor greater than hers.

"You aren't." Ro'za's voice, unused for several hours, was rough and she made no effort to sugarcoat her words. The greeting that Ros'n had extend was not returned. Faintly, she could feel Eceph's disapproval. The gray was much better at politics and the loving leader than the artless Ro'za. Still, what she said was true. She wasn't bothered. She simply enjoyed the silence that stretched between them. An extra pair of eyes was nice, but it was too early or talk. Besides that, she did have art. It was simply with a sword or a glaive in her hand. Her art was with her body, despite her rather apparent dislike of physical intimacy. Perhaps that was the root of it, though highly unlikely. Anyway, it was good to see Ros'n and Wegmeph. They were the proud new fathers of the eyrie's second clutch. Absently, she fidgeted with her sword's hilt.

At Ros'n's question, Ro'za froze for a moment. The silence, so nice and quiet, had been broken. Slowly, her head turned and her eyes fixed on the bluerider. Had she been nervous? It was an interesting question. It took her a moment to organize her thoughts and reply, which was odd for her. She didn't normally take the time to think about what she said, not unless she was writing it down. Paperwork was the bane of her existence. "Not really. What's the point of worrying? I have a lot of other shit to deal with. We all do. None of it's really worth worrying about." A blunt response, but it at least covered her point more thoroughly than it might have. After a moment, Ro'za spoke again. "You're on a different side of it though." There was a sly quality to her voice. She did know why Ros'n was asking. Her lips quirked in a tiny smirk.

. . . I'm losing and this is my real life.

[Kat]

Ros’n was glad that she was not disturbing the Phoenix. The woman was powerful and intimidating and intimidating because she was powerful, and Ros’n had never much interacted with Ro’za. Of course, they knew each other, and knew of each other, and had communicated previously because they worked together and lived together. Ultimately, the first set of riders were a closely knit group; a large family unit, and it would be impossible for one of them to fail to interact with another. But Ros’n had never had much exposure to the Phoenix, beyond their automatic relationship as superior and subordinate. And Ros’n did not wish for the other woman’s power. She enjoyed her life as a subordinate. She was not made to be a leader, not in the way Ro’za was, and Ros’n did not want to be chiseled out of the stuff of leadership. She was a flighty, fun, energetic woman, and she loved the aspects of herself which were so contrary from Ro’za’s composure. Ros’n and Ro’za were entirely different entities, made of different traits and composed of different emotional parts.

Gray Eceph remained perfectly still, and Wegmeph floated up to join her, even though he made sure to keep an admiral, respectful distance between himself and the large simourv. It would be inappropriate for him to sit too close to her, as that would imply an intimacy which did not exist between them. Wegmeph remained as fixed and still as the great gray, his own body rigid and stern. Compared to his rider, Wegmeph was impressive in his composure and his serious nature. While Ros’n was almost childlike in many ways, Wegmeph was always serious and cold, and the contrast between them was immense. Ros’n could not stay still well. Her leg twitched in a small way while she stood and her fingers played absently with the edge of her scarf, which she twirled between her fingertips. The colors were pretty, Ros’n noted, especially against her paling skin. The winter had eroded all the tan color from her normally rather dark complexion. Even some of the freckles which pocked her arms and face had faded into swatches of white smoothness.

Ros’n could tell that her question had been met with some resistance. She hoped that the Phoenix did not mind that she had asked the question. Ros’n did not want to insult the woman or ruin the woman’s mood. Ros’n listened respectfully to Ro’za’s reply, her green eyes wide and acknowledging. Ros’n’s hand even stopped twisting the swatch of fabric which she held between her thumb and her forefinger. She sat as still as she could as she listened. Ro’za’s answer showed how different the two women were, as Ros’n could not just forget her worry. She was not usually a worried person, but for some reason, the stress of the hatching was eating away at her gleeful composure. Maybe it was because Ro’za had always known that her Eceph would be a mother; that was the duty of the gray, while Ros’n had never expected Wegmeph to become a father. He was just a blue, and the concept of parenthood was so lost to Ros’n that she never fathomed that it would occur.
”I just never considered it a possibility; I mean that Wegmeph would catch, or that I would become a parent in some way. And if something happens, I mean, at the hatching, it will be my failure, or Wegmeph’s failure, and I don’t like that.”
Ros’n explained. Her words were slow, as if she tried to articulate her emotion into language. There was so much there, though, in her words. Ros’n’s fear of children had everything to do with her own half-childhood and her wayward single parent. Wegmeph would have scolded Ros’n’s lack of faith in him, but the conversation, by now, had been thoroughly exhausted. He did not want to disturb the peace of the morning with his comment, especially not in front of Eceph.

[Bre]

This habit is always so hard to break . . .

"You aren't a parent. You're a rider." Ro'za's correction held no doubts. One was a rider and little else when one was gifted with that role. What other way was there to do it? None of the riders had yet produced any children of their own. Eceph's children were hardly even her children anymore. She loved them, but in much the same way she loved her siblings but barely acknowledged their blood relationship. Alianph was her brother, but that was not how it worked to a simourv. Their relationship was different. If Wegmeph or Ro'sn loved those lumps of bright shell on the sands so much, it was their fault of emotion and misunderstanding. Their duty to their planet and the eyrie came first and Ro'za would demand no less than that in the end. Some part of her was trying to offer sound advice, but she knew it would mean nothing soon.

"Failure is only how you look at it anyway. Even death doesn't mean failure, no matter how much I may prefer to avoid such an event. Those children do not mark your success and it is sad if you think of yourself in such a measure." Ro'za's voice was cold as ice. The disdain within it was not yet directed at Ros'n, but there was the possibility for it. While she loved the idea of more riders to aid in their struggle, the idea that some hatchlings might die on the sands had not escaped her bright mind. She did have her concerns, perhaps even some small worries, but she knew better. That was the pride that she had, the pride of knowing better. Despite her growing ease with the conversation, she was also disinterested in it and her eyes remained locked forward, scanning the countryside around the eyrie for signs of danger with her hand on her sword.

While her rider continued her vigil, Eceph turned her head to spare Wegmeph one glance. He was a noble beast, not twittering about like his rider. As a mother, she did not see why Ros'n needed to be so concerned for eggs that were not hers. It was not Dionyph's responsibility to watch her eggs. It did enamor him to her that he would help, but the responsibilities was hers when things came down to it. No male was designed to nest, their feathers coming in blues with striking white and brilliant reds. It was foolishness on Ros'n's part to worry. While the gray did not perhaps agree with her rider's lack of tact, she did agree with what she said. Despite that, Wegmeph was a good simourv. Blinking her amber eyes to clear them, she turned her attention forward once again, scanning the horizon and woods countless times, tireless and unwavering.

. . . I don't want to be the bad guy.