First born, Lavant is the slightly more charming and quiet of the pair. Levar is just a touch more aggressive and tends to be outgoing.
This is odd in both cases because of their choices for communication routes. Lavant is a drummer between Hold and Weyr, while Levar is a currier within Blackstone itself. Perhaps their personalities mesh properly with these professions, since it requires a little tact to work among holders as well as weyrfolk, or a bit more boldness to work among weyr riders and their kin.
The pair are 19 turns old and born in the summer. Their parents are both weyr bred but crafters at heart, and the Carlson line is a good bet for either harpers or riders. The brothers have no full blooded siblings, though on their mother's side are three cousins (riders all) and several neices and nephews on their father's side (harpers to be).
Do they have what it takes to live up to mom's side of the family?
The drumming on the height stopped shortly, and Lavant finally got the chance to slow his writing. He glanced at his brother, who shrugged.
"I can't understand those drums of yours. But you know you write like you're in a fever, when you're listening to them." Levar said, honestly amazed.
"I know. Sometimes I wish I didn't do that. Too intense. So, are you coming? Or are you waiting for this 'girl' of yours?"
"That girl of mine IS going to be here. You don't believe me."
"Nope." Lavant chuckled. Then, just as he was getting ready to load his scribing tools and a small drum into his satchel, a fire lizard flew into the room they shared. Levar looked at it, as it perched noisily on his shoulder. There was a small note tied to its leg.
Lavant held his hand out, to stop his brother from untying the hide. "Two marks says it's her, telling you she can't be here."
"You're on. Easy money." The brasher of the pair swiftly got to the note while giving the big bronze flitter a scratch on the belly. "That I lose so well." He crumpled the hide note onto the floor and the flitter swooped down to pick it up before disappearing between. Lavant merely laughed, holding his hand out for those two marks.
***
The Hold was quiet. This time of night, few people expected any transportation especially from the Weyr beyond in the hills. But the pair of brothers raced down with information from the other weyrs nearby. Thread was falling out of control and had taken several lives already. It would be too late to save some cotholds from destruction, but it wouldn't be too late to save this one.
"Come get your flame throwers out!" Yelled Levar, hooting loudly to attract attention and wake the locals. "Thread falls!"
They came from their stone rooms, this cothold on the edge of Dawnlight's territory was poorly made and would surely have been blasted away long ago had dragons not been living quite nearby. Their stone huts were roofed with a combination of adobe and scrap metal. It was an ugly little cothold, but it was one where fine tubers were dug every season. Worth protecting, surely.
In the twins' minds, every cothold was worth protecting. It broke Lavant's heart to have heard the bad news, so coldly coming from drum beats along the heights. Then...
They could see it. Both twins, the whole of the Hold, and the animals, all at once looked up and saw a wave, a virtual silver wash of Thread... All headed over the hill and toward them.
Three of the younger women and two children simply fainted away. Perhaps the first time they'd ever seen Thread, thought Lavar. The bigger of the men of the hold began firing up their agenothree tanks, and nodded to the young twins.
"You should get back to your weyr. They'll be needing you. We've been warned, thank you."
"But the dragons won't --" Lavant started to say, but the man waved his hand.
"We'll do fine here."
***
"Should have stayed."
"We would have been consumed too," Lavant sighed, "but... I know. We should have stayed. They didn't stand a chance. I can't see how anyone could have survived that wave."
"Never seen anything like it," Levar said, grimly. "Not even on dragon back..."
"We've only been on dragon back once," his brother reminded him, but there was no humor in his voice.
"You maybe. I went out with V'oll and Taoth once. He was supposed to be delivering some supplies, and we wound up having to help hide half the inhabitants of a hold in a weyr."
"You're making that up! Why would you never tell me this?" Lavant demanded. He was bitterly angry at the loss of the cothold this evening, and others were as well. But none so much as they. Levar stood and put his hand out, calming his brother.
"I didn't want to talk about it. It scared me. It was a while ago. We were younger."
That seemed to suit the elder of the pair, for the moment. They sullenly sat in the corner of the smaller dining hall, drinking and picking at their food. No one was really up and about, all the dragons and riders had been summoned to blast at the Thread as soon as it was detected and safe to do so.
They began to hear about losses... Not good ones. Two strong browns simply vanished, and three greens. It was when they started hearing that, when Daimla's bronze flitter came flying back, frantically, to Levar's shoulder. He picked at the dark curly hair of the man's head and crooned a hard song of anger and ...
"She's gone, isn't she?" Levar whispered to the flitter. He stroked the creature's neck, calming it down a bit. But it was still frantic. His human, his girl, his mistress, his friend, was gone. Her green had battled strongly. And died eagerly fighting.
The images came into Levar's head, unbidden. How could the flitter be telling him? Wasn't he impressed to her? Didn't they often go between too?
"Looks like you've got a friend now," Lavant said, solemnly. "I never did catch this little annoyance's name."
"Bolder," Levar said, "his name is Bolder. Because he's bolder than most..." He closed his ebony eyes and felt the wing of the bronze slip over his neck, almost like he was protecting him from the memory of his girlfriend.
"These things happen," said a voice nearby. It belonged to a rider, Sk'y. He looked older than his cousin H'lis, one of the weyr leaders of Blackstone. Somehow, he commanded such respect just by showing up, that both twins sobered up and became silent. They waited for the rider to say something else.
"She's died a hero, now, though." He completed. "We all felt her going, it's a good thing you aren't already a rider, Levar. You'd have ..." He licked his thin white lips, "you might have wanted to head between too. I'm surprised this flitter of hers stayed behind."
"He's here to comfort me," Levar said, smiling.
"You did a good job," Sk'y said to Lavant, "we needed that information and you got it to the right people on time. It's a shame that that little cothold hadn't bothered to find themselves a drummer."
"Every place should have one," Lavant muttered.
"Don't feel guilty about it," Sk'y said. "You're not dragon riders. You did exactly what we needed you to do, and it's a good thing you didn't get there any later, or you'd have been killed as well. And we cannot afford even one harper or drummer to be lost. Or any future candidates."
Both twins looked up at that comment. Sk'y had gotten that look on his face that said he was communicating with his dragon Dasnath. "There is a pair of clutches on Dark Moon's sands. A greens, and a gold's. There are a number of spaces left, so you should head there. We'll ... be needing some strong riders. Like you could be."
Lavant and Levar stood, looked each other over, and decided Sk'y was completely crazy. Especially after their horrible losses in the skies today, how could he even suggest...
"Well?" He said, "Dasnath doesn't usually search, but he's been watching you for quite a while. Taoth told him you were pretty well suited," he nodded toward Levar, "and I'd have to assume that you being twins would be about the right material together." He paused again, and then said, "and Dai got her flit from there, by the way. You didn't know that, did you?"
Finally not knowing what to say, the pair finished eating, and then found a transport dragon to Dark Moon. They were not entirely sure what to do, other than announce themselves, sign up, and hope that their memories of Thread did not interfere with their hopes of flying the skies...
