Deitra takes her revenge from the result of “Defeat”. Age 13

Three Turns. She held a grudge for three Turns. Kept the desire for revenge, to make the ones who hurt her feel the same. She, however, could never really do the same thing to them. She was soft, in that respect. That did not mean that she didn’t want to punch them. If punching in a friendly spar was thrilling, she could only imagine it felt much better hitting someone/something you hate.

Deitra, at one point, meant to push these feelings aside. Saying it had been some time, that she was no longer angry. But, some part of her held onto it like it was important, like she shouldn’t just forget.

It was by chance that she had moved through the tunnels of the Weyr and happened upon him. The leader. And he was alone. Well, not exactly alone. A cowering boy was before him, but the two from her previous experience were nowhere to be found. Nowhere in sight. She was, briefly, overwhelmed by the rush of excitement. Which, quickly turned to anger when the cowering boy whimpered.

This rush was different. Fueled by anger, she felt different (and would look back on it with disgust, one day). It fueled her forward, fueled her to strike with a fist ready and determined to hit his jaw. When she made contact, the rush was entirely different. It crept up from her stomach, made her feel hot and cold all at the same time. This… This was different. He, however, didn’t back down. They fought. And she fought dirty. She broke his nose, he bruised her cheek. She shoved him down, and away. He clutched his bleeding face while he lay there. That cold feeling amplified and ran down her spine. She reacted without a thought, grabbed the cowering boy and she fled.

She led him out to the bowl, through the paths where they were least likely to encounter someone. She didn’t say a word. She left him there, in the bowl, without a word. He had been speaking the whole time, but her ears rang too loud for her to understand what exactly he had said.

She walked away. Then jogged. Before she sprinted and found a nook to hide in. She had stared at her hand for a long time, bloodied with his blood. She wasn’t sure she was even bleeding, this time. She was bruised, sure… But, she did not bleed.

The coldness faded and she felt sick. Disappointed. This had not been what she expected. Instead of celebrating, she curled into herself as tightly as she could and cried. Cried until her eyes were sore, until she couldn’t cry anymore. Cried until she stopped feeling like she would vomit.

Cold, and defeated, she eventually found her bed. The taste of revenge was bitter in her mouth.

'The World of Pern(tm)' and 'The Dragonriders of Pern(r)' are copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967, 2000. This is a recorded online session, by permission of the author but generated on PernWorld MUSH for the benefit of people unable to attend.