YOUR MISSION… should you choose to accept it, is to somehow integrate your greatest or most nostalgic moment on HT (whether from 10 years ago or last year, if you're new!) and somehow make it important to the character(s) of your choice! Blending past feel goods with current, IC expectations is a challenge! But hopefully fun!
The Rules
- Do you remember that long ago memory of Impression? Or maybe it was of your character's first kiss in the rain and that moment you really felt your best warm fuzzies for HT…
- Pick this memory and somehow vig your character recapturing that memory in their IC lives!
- Tag your scenes with: 2015_ht_memory
The Logs
There have been 5 scenes for this challenge.
Title | OOC Date | Cast | Summary | ||||||||||
Happier Days Happier Days
Ravene's Bakery and Sundries The murmur of voices fills this space as people gather for the unique breads, and pastries that Ravene's is known for. The counter with its glass display is once again filled with freshly baked pastries, breads, and bubblies. The smell of klah fills the air, and escapes out into the street along with the smell of the freshly baked breads. Stews have been added to the seasonal menu, and are served in bowls made of bread. There is a sign that lists the prices of the items for sale, or for those not able to pay, a list of chores that can be done in return for a good meal. (OOC- Ravene can be NPC'd by anyone within the Bakery proper if she's not online. Just please don't cause her any lasting damage or harm. Just please let me know if you've bruised her, or caused her to have a minor burn.) Zisiene stands in the middle of the dining room. The people have long since fled from the heat of the day. Memories from long ago flood back, and she finds she must sit down. Her eyes close as she remembers what little she can of those early days as Ravene's fosterling. When had the last time she ate anything been? “It'll be okay Zisi. I swear, it'll be okay,” Egbert's voice sounded from a distance, she didn't really have the strength to open her eyes. He'd always been there. Protected her, made sure she ate before he did. His words echoed back at her from that long ago time. “You always did,” Zisiene whispers in the silence of the bakery she once called home. Once loved to be a part of. Still those memories wouldn't let her go. They weren't finished with her. Not yet. How long had he been gone for? Time had started to lose meaning for the girl a while back. She sat huddled under the ratty awning where she'd been left, eyes closed. She was so cold. She had lost enough weight she could no longer retain her own body heat. It was gone faster than she could produce it, “Zisi?” scared. He sounded so scared as he said her name, “Zisi, come on. I have an idea. I'm so sorry I didn't come back right away. I got caught, but I think,” his words faded into a comforting buzz of noise as he helped her to stand. They didn't have far to go. Egbert was soon holding her in a manner that told her she needed to muster the strength to stand mostly unaided. Zisiene never quite understood how she managed, but she did, “I caught her in the stores. She was trying to steal some bread,” a light shake was given to her arm as her brother spoke. That shake, light as it was, almost sent her to the floor. The woman, slender with dark hair and eyes, stared at her for a moment, “She looks half dead from hunger, Egbert. Take her upstairs, then run and fetch a healer,” the words were kindly spoken. A sound she couldn't remember having heard in her whole life. Maybe once upon a time, but not in recent Turns certainly. “It's going to be okay, Zisi. She'll let you stay once she knows you're my sister. I had to pretend you were stealing. It was the only way I could think,” Egbert whispered as he carried her through the bakery. The smell of all that food made her stomach cramp, and she groaned with the pain of it, “I know, but Ravene's a really good person. You'll like her,” this said as he carried her up the stairs, and finally tucked her in to a cot, “I'll be right back. Ravene will probably be up soon with some broth for you. I'm so so sorry I didn't get you here sooner,” the words are spoken quickly, and then he's gone. She didn't know how long she'd slept, but when she woke Zisiene didn't feel so hungry. Her stomach didn't hurt from the pain of being so horribly empty, “Good you're awake,” the woman from before sat in a chair next to her, “I'm Ravene, since you clearly can't do anything we're going to get you well. After that you will stay here, and you will attend the harper's classes. In your spare time you will do small chores around the shop,” the woman smiled at her, and Zisiene knew right then she had a home, “But before any of that, we need to know who you are?” of course Egbert had already told Ravene who Zisiene was, but the girl didn't know that. “I'm Zisiene,” she answered in a weak voice, “Egbert's my brother,” that was about all she'd had the strength for. Ravene nodded, “I know. You rest now,” and the baker left her to sleep again. “I miss you so much,” Zisiene whispers into the empty space of the room she is in. The tears are ignored as the fall softly from her cheeks. Those pesky memories not done yet. Time passed as it is want to do, and before long Zisiene was running around with the other kids her age. Classes were dull, but there was always coming home to look forward to. Egbert continued to protect her, continued to look out for her whenever he could, but he was starting to get into trouble more and more. Eventually they left the bazaar, when they returned it was without Egbert. It wasn't until she saw her brother in the bazaar that she even knew he'd returned to Igen, “Egbert!” she called as she flew towards her brother at a dead run. How could she not be happy to see her brother? He had laughed as he caught her up in a hug, and swung her around, “Good to see you too, Zisi. Only,” he paused as he set her back on her feet, “I'm E'bert now. Impressed a while back to brown Karkath. I'll introduce you some day,” the words skated over the joy she felt at seeing her brother again. She knew how Ravene would react, but just now. This very moment in time? It was the happiest she had felt in a very long time. Sure having someone to take you in, and take care of you when you couldn't do that for yourself was good. It made her feel safe. That safe feeling made her happy, but seeing her brother again when she thought he was going to stay in Telgar? There was no comparing that to anything else. “I miss him too,” the voice is one she'd been avoiding, “Zisiene, remember the good times dear one,” it was Ravene. When had she stopped thinking of the baker as 'Mama' and started thinking of her as 'Ravene'? She couldn't recall. It didn't matter, “you will have to start being happy again. For E'bert. Be happy for his memory's sake,” the baker dropped her hand on to Zisiene's shoulder for just a moment, then continued on up the stairs. The memories let her go as Ravene first spoke to her, then left. She'd had some hard times, but those times she couldn't remember and E'bert would never speak of them to her. As Zisiene looked around the dining room, she realized that she had far more good memories than bad. In every one of them, her brother was a large feature. The tears were dried as she slipped quietly out into the hustle and bustle of the bazaar's side street. Enough with memories. Past is past, and done is done. Time to make new memories. Memories that would be just as important in the future, as these were now. Happier Days has 1 comments. |
17 Aug 2015 04:00 |
2015 Game Vig Challenge Those were happier days. |
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Latrine Privacy Latrine Privacy
"I… was wondering if we could talk. Some time. With you, uh, conscious." Inner Caverns As straightforward as can be, the hallowed halls of Southern's innards are blessed with a prolific cultivation of wild glows, tended in a way to illuminate the valuted arches with warm light. The halls themselves are a mix of rough-hewn wall and carefully-carved architecture, stunning in contrast and beauty. All the passageways are well-kept, here, though certain paths show heavier wear: the corridors terminating in the baths, the latrines, and the main thoroughfare that moves through to the Living Caverns beyond. Nearly halfway through winter, Southern still lies in the grips of winter's rain and chill. Today is another such rainy day, wet and damp seeping into every pore the ground has left. It is also a day Jedi has found plenty of reason to stay inside; she leaves the infirmary with a shake of her head and a sharp retort for the healer journeywoman who walked her do the door. She glances around briefly, and after a moment heads toward the general direction of the living caverns. Dinner time approaches; she might as well get there on time. A mission. K'vvan was on a mission. One that is gets derailed when his walking across the inner cavern puts him face to face with a Jedi again. His eyes seek out her belly and that characteristic flash of sorrow for her contition settles there. Momentarily he pauses, one hand settling on the doorway to the latrines. Maybe he could escape within before she sees him, take the cowards way out. He almost does it, turning the knob to enter, when he glances at her again. "No." Outloud. It puts steel into his reserve. "Jedi." There might be a flash of color in Jedi's hand; a specific flash of color that the greenrider should probably even recognize. It looks like she opened that box after all, the one he threw at her the last time they met. When she thought she was dreaming. K'vvan almost gets away. Jedi almost doesn't notice him. Just another person in the hallway, just another person she's not looking directly at right now. She's thinking hard about something, it would seem. But then K'vvan speaks, and her head snaps up. A blush immediately crosses her cheeks. "K'vvan. What… What are you doing here?" Their kid is going to be the most messed up one in the world if it's parents can't figure out how to have a conversation with one another again. They totally did it once. Right. Jedi. "I… transferred to Southern. Permanently. Remember?" He shifts uncomfortably on his feet, just in case she doesn't remember, despite that flash of color in her hands. "So…" He searches for a quip and rather than hold in decides to project out. A slight out stretched hand that could ALMOST be titled a jazz hand if anyone other than K'vvan was doing it, "live here now? So if I need to shit…." That jazz hand morphs into a pointing finger in the direction of the latrines. "I… was wondering if we could talk. Some time. With you, uh, conscious." That blush looks like it might be permenately etched onto Jedi's face as he continues speaking, and the object in Jedi's hand finds its way to the other. Turns out Jedi does know about stress and maybe one of the sources of it is in front of her? "Um. Yeah. That…sounds like a good idea." She's very deliberately not looking at him right now, very purposefully looking away as she scratches the back of her head absently. "When? Because it looks like you have to take a shit." Might as well swear, the kid can't hear it yet. "Oh, uh," Right. K'vvan takes his hand off of the doorway to the latrine. "Not really. It was just," but he stops himself from admitting he was about to run away and hide in a stall, and instead, with a shake of his head just doesn't continue that thought. "It's about," a gesture of his hand, towards Jedi's baby. "Something I, uh, wanted to ask you." Jedi blinks at his words and actions, and shrugs. "Okay.." She hesitates a moment, and shoves her hands into pockets. "I'm all ears." It's JUST at this moment that something happens in the Library and an abrupt SURGE of people exit from the library and flood the hallway. It's enough to make the more or less skittish K'vvan jerk to one side, his shoulder hitting the door of the latrine hard enough to shove it open despite that handle not getting turned. "Let's…. come on." And reaching out he actually grabs her hand, moving to pull her into the dubious privacy of the latrines. K'vvan licks Kehm. Kehm blushes bright red as the soft, wet and warm tongue slowly traces a path from his belly button to the neck and ear. The flood of people is certainly unexpected, and causes Jedi to flinch even as K'vvan does. When he grabs her hand, Jedi stares at him in surprise and frowns. "W-what?! She almost sounds indignant, but allows him to pull her into the latrines. "Are you crazy?" She hisses at him, glancing at the doorways that separate women's and men's. The brownrider sighs. "Go on, into the men's, then. Men are usually less caring if a woman walks in." "Because Men are pigs." There's the snarky K'vvan that Jedi first met. He follows her directions though, and without releasing her hand (just in case she tries to escape before his courage runs out) he pulls her into a stall and closes the door. "I suck at this." He releases her hand like it is a hot coal and steps to one side, giving her and her belly as much space as possible. "But. Have you decided what you are going to call i," K'vvan cuts off the word and inserts another, "the baby?" "I'm aware." Jedi retorts tartly, briefly tempted to pull her hand out of his, and almost even follows through. But then he pulls her into the men's room, and into a stall and locks the door. She sighs, and flexes her hand. "You've got a tight grip." It's an absentminded comment, as her eyes follow him. She leans against the side of the stall, and looks away from him for a moment. "I've thought of a few things, but I hadn't settled yet. Why?" K'vvan glances down at his hand when she makes that comment, and tucks his hand behind his back. "Sorry." He presses his back against the cool stone of the wall, even as he eyes the distance between himself and Jedi. "I didn't think about how tight this was. I need to sharding thing before I do shit." But No, K'vvan shakes his head of that thought, "Focus," the word mouthed, but not actually spoken. "What are they?" "It's fine. Just wasn't prepared for it." Jedi replies with a sigh, hands tucking back into her pockets as they stand here in the men's room. The distance between them is not much, but there is a little. "K'vvan. It's fine." Jedi smiles slightly. "You said you want to be a part of the baby's life," she says suddenly, eyes fixing on his. "We…have our issues. But maybe we should stop running into each other on accident." His question doesn't immediately get answered. "Look…" It's hard not to look at Jedi with such a small distance between them, but K'vvan is just that talented that he manages it by looking upwards over Jedi's head. He's totally going to get a neck crick like that. "I don't know what I want. I see Cha'el with his kids, or shards, even K'ane sometimes and I envy it. A little. Look, the name." They'll both play the same game of dodging one another's questions. His eyes finally drop, and there's a serious intensity in his green eyes, that darkness that no matter how hard the greenrider tries, he can't banish. "Are you using part of my name in them?" He evades what she says, and a small smile crosses her lips. "Fine, that's fine." She says, after a few long moments. His question isn't exactly avoided, but she doesn't immediately answert it, either. "But if you ever make up your mind.." She doesn't finish those words, instead shaking her head. If he's not going to look at her, she's not going to look at him, either. "I was planning on it, yes." Her voice is tense as she answers, finally. "You're the father after all, that is part of the tradition." K'vvan pulls in a breath, holds it for a count of three, then lets it out "I do want involved. But I don't want you to use my name. It's… not right." A pause as he runs his tongue over his lips, searching for a way to explain why he would make this very strange request. "My… name is tainted. In my eyes. I don't want the kid to carry that." Jedi is very carefully looking anywhere but at K'vvan, so when he holds his breath she doesn't notice. When he speaks though, she glances up at him again, and frowns. "You don't…" Jedi sighs, and crosses her arms. "If not your name, K'vvan, then whose name am I supposed to use? My name didn't get shortened when I Impressed. I have no extra letters to throw in." JEDI JR. KAVVAN JR. K'vvan rubs a hand across the opposite arm, not quite mimicking her, but it's a close thing. "There… Do you remember W'rin? I… respected him. A lot. He was the first to believe I could be more than I was - a drunken pissant who didn't live up to his potential. Since he's not here he can't object." That statement is followed with a real smile, though it is tinged with a hint of sorrow for the man long dead. "Wairin was his name. Would that work instead?" "I remember him," Jedi agrees, frowning a little in thought. "Sienna was his weyrmate when he died, wasn't she?" She asks, raising her eyebrows at the greenrider across from her. "Does she know you want to use his name?" There's not a word of disagreement so far, but Jedi's eyebrows raise a little at K'vvan. "If she has no problem with it…then okay. I'll think of some new ones. But if she does.." K'vvan nods, acknowledgement that Sienna was W'rin's weyrmate. "They have two kids. Twins. She wouldn't mind." It's said with every ounce of convinction that K'vvan has. A knowledge that Sienna wouldn't mind K'vvan borrowing her dead weyrmate's name for his own child. "She's my closest friend and her kids… they are, were," because Cha'el and Ksenia might just come really close too, if K'vvan would just allow himself to accept their open arms freely, "about the closest thing I have to a real family." His arm drops and he folds some of that confidence into his voice. "Just… think on it? It's your choice. IN the end. But… the kid deserves a better start than my name." There's silence between them after K'vvan finishes speaking, and Jedi watches him for a moment. The redheaded woman looks away, biting her lip, and she nods. "Okay." It's all she says. For a moment, she leans over and grabs his hand. Her turn. It gets squeezed, wordlessly. Then Jedi opens the lock on the door, and flees. No explanation given. But at least she agreed to what K'vvan wanted? K'vvan freezes when Jedi grabs his hand - the motion as unexpected as him dragging her into this tight space had been. There isn't time for him to do much except give a brief squeeze back. She's gone, and he leans back against the stone of the stall. Closing his eyes he pulls back a memory from the past - W'rin standing to one side as he forced the greenrider to put weak punches against a bag. The start of controlling his temper. A first moment when he took the step from being the broken teen that Benden had thrown away to starting his journey to something… more. Even if he still didn't want the kid to own his name. "I owe you." A promise shared quietly to the long dead Weyrleader. Straightening up K'vvan realizes there is a reason to be here, and he'll just juxtapose a more normal human action against deeper thoughts. Hopefully W'rin wouldn't mind that. Latrine Privacy has 2 comments. |
16 Aug 2015 06:00 |
K'vvan has a single request to make of Jedi, and does it in just about the most awkward place he could find. (With a nod towards the 2015 Game Vig Challenge with W'rin love.) |
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Missed Chances Missed Chances
Soon. Fields Above, darkness, broken only by the purest scattering of stars and white smoke. Tlazotezath, personified, powerfully formed from pale white smoke as a tiger steps among the stars as he drifts from point to point. Restless. Controlled. Impatient. Below the desert spreads in the darkness, life awakened within, small creatures scurrying from plant to plant. Here, within the dark chill, life reigns firmly in pure defiance of the day. N'tael, eyes closed, lays upon a patch of green. He can feel the grass under his hands, grounding him in reality, but his mind? His heart? They linger far away in the desert within Tlazotezath's mind » You've changed. From when you was a baby… « Rumbles of boulders grinding into one another slip past each other, Tlazotezath's voice seeming to come from everywhere. « We do not speak of that time. » The prowling creature above shakes himself, hints of smoky fog drifting down to Earth. Where they touch life curls up from the parched desert floor. Pale yellow flowers open themselves slowly to the brightness of the night sky, their petals upturned towards the life giving moisture. A flash of a smile on N'tael's face, and he shakes his head slowly. Blond hair spreads behind him. » Just because you don't want me to be thinking about it doesn't mean it ain't true. You was angry. Always angry. « The memories make that smile fade as he drifts. Tlazotezath cannot stop the wash of memory. Pale blood spread from newly killed creature, painted across both himself and an even smaller N'tael. Fighting, pushing, and silent screaming from the teen at the pale bronze. Watching him try to gain the sky and failing over and over again when no one else watched, hidden under the cover of night. » I'm sorry. « Pure sorrow there. True and complete repentance for his not understanding how badly the pale bronze had struggled. « It is done. Gone. It is not good to remember this. We must remember what we are. » That powerful voice wraps about N'tael, pushing away the sorrow with the dry desert winds, mixed with the cold of the desert night. It raises goosebumps on N'tael's skin, and he blinks once, trying to banish the ghostly feeling away from his skin. « We are powerful. Mighty. And none may take this from us. Soon… » There is desire underlying that deep rumble, for what they would become. « Soon. » N'tael shakes his head, and pushes upwards. "Mayhap." Words spoken aloud. Tlazotezath is near, settled and looking down upon his small rider. "Ye missed 'e chance with Dhia. But." Raising a hand N'tael runs his hands through his hair and cocks a knowing look at the bronze. "It ain't 'e last. Mayhap it won't be soon like ye're thinkin'. But someday. It'll be more'n our turn." Missed Chances has 1 comments. |
15 Aug 2015 06:00 |
N'tael spends a moment reflecting on Weyrlinghood, but Tlazotezath only looks forward. |
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Sleepless Remembering (Vig) Sleepless Remembering (Vig)
Haven From Time and Space This weyr is far from being perfectly organized with a place for everything, and everything in it's place. But the chaos that was once the epicenter of it all has largely departed. A set of shelves rest against one of the walls, with an assortment of hides and knicknacks. A desk sits nearby, with a chair that looks as though it might see a touch too much use. There is a series of chairs for visitors to sit in to speak at. A series of folding screens frame of one section of the weyr off limits to most guests, and it is there where the bed, a clothes press, and even a lounge with a low table can be found for relaxation. Throughout the weyr there is general clutter that seems to simply…not have a place. Perhaps surprising, when considering the dragonrider who lives here was once a Healer. Two people inhabit this weyr, tonight. It is an occurrence that has been near constant since one pair's injury, and after the human of the pair was released from observation. It's been a while now, since that fateful 'Fall. Months. Some nights, she dreams of it still. Tonight is not one of those. Sheets drape over them both, and although they've separated in sleep, it is still too hot. Even clad in next to nothing, it is too hot. He's asleep, so Vashae contents herself to watching him for the time being. How she loves this man. How things have changed since that fateful night they met. And even more since the night they decided to give them a shot. "You have been my fighting chance," N'cal tells her as they stand in one of the healed wounds the Comet caused. His voice is so quiet, so close to her ear. Vashae can't help to smile as he continues, even if he can't see it. She knows just enough of his past, at this point, to know how much those words really mean. "We haven't really spoken of what exactly we are, Vashae, but…us is something I would like us to be." His words are so simple, so perfectly just what they need to be. She can feel her breath hitch even as he asks her if she would like that too. He was worth the wait, every moment of it. He was worth sifting through his sometimes evasive answers, and the slowness of this relationship. She told him as much, if not in so many words. And then of course she agreed. She wanted there to be an "us". It felt right. Even Jovianth agreed. The kiss that followed is one she keeps close to her heart, always. Sleep still cannot find her, and Vashae sighs softly in resignation. As much as she may blame the heat, it is not that which truly keeps her awake. Jovianth will be cleared for duty soon, and she has already been cleared. Her arm and shoulder are still stiff sometimes, but even so, she knows that this is the way it must be before they can truly fly together again. Flying together. Their first flight together: one of her happiest memories. A truest moment of breaking the rules of that harsh regime of those Nowtimer High Reaches Weyrlingmasters, and one she savors. Perhaps it is because of that forbidden nature of that first flight that their flights together since have truly been so precious. She's lit a bonfire, and Kyara and I'yn have joined her. Jovianth, Liareth, and Vazirynath are there as well. They've all been analyzing - complaining, really - at the injustice. Why, out of all of them, have Vashae and Jovianth been unallowed to fly together? Then K'ane, and Dhioth approach. The Oldtimer bronzerider wastes no time. He cuts to the meat of the matter, after hearing it from Dhioth who heard it from Jovianth. And then he offers them forbidden fruit. "Do you want to fly?" Vashae's heart raced as those words left his lips. "Of course we do." The others were still there too, but she could barely hear them over her racing heart. They could get into so much trouble for this. And yet. K'ane wasn't going to tell the 'Reachians if they didn't, it seemed. "If you want t'risk it, I will." K'ane says. And just like that, the blue pair were granted the chance to fly together. The exhilaration, the feeling of the wind, of his wings beating beneath them… It was a victory, and a moment of breaking the rules that the former healer had never imagined doing before Impression. Vashae gets out of bed, and slips a simple cotton nightdress on. It almost feels cool to the touch on her skin, and she shivers momentarily. She doesn't bother to put on shoes, and heads straight out to the ledge. Finally allowed to fly again supporting only his own weight, Jovianth waits there watching for her. He knows best when she is disquieted, when sleep won't come. He always has. « We could break the rules again, my dear Vashae! » He says, his fortian tenor easy-going and light. Of course he'd been listening in, watching her remember. There's a whisper of a cello's breath in his mind, and the disembodied chorus that sometimes haunts her steps in her dreams can be heard just starting to sing again. But quiet. Oh, so quiet. She glances back to the weyr. Then back to her lifemate. » We could, « she agrees. » But we won't. Not tonight. Not from up here. Not when your wing still needs a little more time before it can carry me. « A tuba made resentful noises, and she could hear a full orchestra warming up to accompany the voices. A sure sign her beloved blue was about to protest. "» No, Jov. « Her mental command was firm, and the blue huffed indignantly. Vashae laughed softly, and shook her head. She sat down next to the uninjured wing, and glanced at him. On nights she couldn't sleep, this was nearly a ritual. Especially when the moons were out. Jovianth spread his wing without complaint as Vashae settled onto her back, to look at the silvery circles within circles that appear there best in the moonlight. Her fingers trace one of them, her touch featherlight. Once again, her mind is drawn back. To another happy memory. To the day that made all of this possible. The day her Jovianth chose her. They had just finished up with various duties, some of them just barely getting back to the Barracks before the rock began to seem to vibrate . Humming, the dragons were humming. Just as quickly, one of the weyrlingmasters came into the Barracks, and told them to get ready. It was time. Vashaetria barely remembered how they got out onto the Sands. Tijna was there, so was Kyara, Webley, Riyn, Samakar… So many people that had become dear to her in some way, who the healer had begun to learn to drop her mask for. One by one, they were snatched up by lifemates. All but her and Samakar. And then the blue appeared before them. And everything changed. Shadowed fog rolls in, obscuring the hatching sands. Gone are your surroundings, replaced by an eerie, wordless harmony that lifts through the murk, spidering outward through your mind to make connections you never thought possible. Time and space hold meaning here, a chorus of whispers tickle the senses. « Vashaetria. » It's wrong, all wrong. The voice-that-isn't-a-voice shakes free the chains that bound you to your old life. « Vashae. » The harmony of disembodied voices add depth of mystery to this presence that has grabbed your thoughts, your very essence. Secrets are kept and a breath is held — you realize it's yours — before: « Some people live more in twenty years than others do in eighty. It's not the time that matters, it's the person. It's time for us to live, Vashae. There is SO MUCH for us to see, SO MUCH to do … and time starts NOW. So let's get our bloody act together, get some food, and we'll be on our way. » The clipped Fortian tones are at odds with expectation, coming from the eerie drift of fog. « Oh. Jovianth. » Beat. « Toodle-oo now Vashae. Time's a-wasting. » Intense hunger claws from the thick soft grey of fog, the voices harmonizing in need. From that moment, everything had changed. Everything had become different, special. And so much of her life would be so far away from what it is now. « But I did choose you, my Vashaetria, » Jovianth reminds her. « Soon we will fly together again, and fight. » She smiles, but doesn't answer. There's no need to, this time. The time to fight again is nearing ever closer. This time, they will fight harder. But they will be together. He folds his wing, and the voices in his mind turn soothing. A lullaby. « Go to bed, my Vashae. I will talk your ear off if I must, and sing to you if I have to, but you must sleep. » A violin haunts his words sweetly. « We cannot dwell on what was forever. We must instead dwell on what is, and what will be. » The blue falls silent for a moment, watching her as she rises. « There is still much we must do, my Vashae. We have not lived as hard as we should, yet. » Vashaetria, Vashae, Jovianth's companion, laughs. "There is truth in that, Jov." She turns, and heads in to try sleep again. It claims her far quicker this time. Tonight she dreams. Tonight they fly. Sleepless Remembering (Vig) has 3 comments. |
15 Aug 2015 05:00 |
Vashae reflects upon everything that has changed, and upon some of the happiest moments of her life. |
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A Memory and a Choice {Vignette} A Memory and a Choice {Vignette}
Such a beautiful melody she never could have conceived! Weyrling Training Grounds Here, a wide and spacious field, devoid of all but more of the glare of ubiquitous, fine white sand of Igen: not even a blade of grass dares lift its head against centuries of clumsy draconic antics. To one side, ever-present firestone bins are set, kept supplied by many a hand, while agenothree tanks line the curving angle just outside the barracks, primed and ready for use. Very often, a glimpse of classes in session or dragonets at play may be caught under the open sky under the watchful eye of diligent Weyrlingmasters and older dragons. One cycle ends, another begins. She tries to look confident and encouraging for the younger ones, but she’s just as scared as them. Just as nervous. A double file of white robes shuffles steadily down the shadowed hall beyond a threshold they’d been disallowed access to until now. Bundles of nerves. Hopeful. Terrified. Heat and light suddenly engulf them as they emerge onto the Sands. Webley in his white burlap sack… His hand crushes hers. Her teeth clench. She remembers to breathe…almost too late. They bow to Jivayath, arcing themselves around the clutch she watches for both herself and the departed Kohleth. Faces flicker. Grins full of trepidation flash. Vashaetria. Riyn. Samakar. One egg twitches. Another. All so fast. A brown breaks shell and finds Tijna. No - Tija now, and Izahyth. The first Impression is a woman on a fighting dragon? Uproar! Hah! Let them see what she becomes. A green now - Liareth, unbeknownst to Kyara - who snubs Webley and moves on. Two more greens; later to be We’bey’s Saytomarth and I’yn’s Vazirynath. A blue - Jovianth, come to claim Vashae. More and more - a whirlwind…until it all comes spiraling inward to the little green suddenly filling her vision. Wings lift, uncanny grace and elegance shimmering upon sail and spar. Eyes lock. Laughter…love…borne upon the sweet shimmer of tiny silver bells… « Kyara. » A humid embrace enfolds, the diamond-dust brilliance of the night sky reflect upon the still surface of water hewn in by marble, accented in the flicker of candlelight. Completion. Elation. « I am Liareth. I am your Liareth, Kyara, and we never again shall part. » Music in her mind… Such a beautiful melody she never could have conceived! “…Look at you! Listen to you!” A Memory and a Choice {Vignette} has 4 comments. |
15 Aug 2015 06:00 |
Written for the 2015 Game Vig Challenge. Kyara and Liareth steal a rare quiet moment. Reflection on the past kindles the beginning of a major potential change for the future. |