Current mood:	contemplative
Entry tags:	threadfall, vignette

Vignette: Duty

Niena slipped off of Masoth and ran into his weyr, grabbing the passenger straps she'd abandoned mere hours ago. Quickly exchanging them for the fighting straps she had never expected to use in anything but drills, she had her dragon land her close to the lower caverns entrance. A brief bath later, just enough to wash the actual ash from her face and get the worst of the firestone smell from her hair, and she was out again. She didn't need a mirror to know that she small burns on her face from where some live ash had hit, but she had skipped out on her duty to fight the unexpected fall and she was at least going to finish her shift.

As her dragon circled to a landing at the Hold, she cursed to herself. Her least favorite passenger was there. A Master in rank, in his first ride he had complained bitterly that one of his stature had been assigned just a blue. To this day she was annoyed by that; Masoth was so much more than just a blue. Yes, she had to respect the Master's rank, but she didn't have to like him, and she took her privilege of disliking him as seriously as she took everything else.

As he clambered up, the passenger wrinkled his nose. As she turned to help him buckle in, he began to say something, then stopped when he saw her face. "So what they said was true? You weren't here because you were fighting fall?"

Niena nodded, at the same time saying with her usual solemn politeness "Yes, sir." She inwardly braced for the diatribe which would be coming; how dare she put something like that over someone of his august rank, how dare she arrive stinking of firestone, maybe even a complaint on the state of her face, and how riders doing transport should look their best.

She was absolutely stunned at his actual words. In a quiet voice, he said "It's good to know that riders still understand their duties to Pern when thread falls."

After the moment it took her to shake off the stun, she merely nodded, then said, as politely as ever, "We're taking off now, sir. Please hold on."

For the rest of her shift, Niena heard similar comments. One journeyman Healer even told her to wait when she dropped her off, then came back with a salve for the burns and the playful admonition to use it or else. The bluerider meekly dabbed some on before the Healer disappeared into the Hall, this time for sure.

Finally, it was over. Instructing Masoth to fly straight, Niena was soothed by the cool wind on her burns. Masoth deserved a good bath, and that process would get the rest of the firestone smell off of her as well. Later tonight, when the Weyr was mostly quiet, she would slip into the bathing rooms with her relaxing glass of wine and soak the soreness away. Through it all, she would have time to ponder the heretofore unexplored notion of what it was to be a rider.