Willimina has a quiet moment in her thoughts in the eve of an oncoming storm.


It is 9:13 PM where you are.
It is late night of the twenty-second day of the fourth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen: It is the eighty-second day of Spring and 60 degrees. The storm finally reaches the weyr as rain pours down in hard, biting sheets. The wind is fast and hard.
In Southern: It is the eighty-second day of Autumn and 76 degrees. The night is clear and bright, stars twinkling merrily in the darkness.


Inside the warm confines of Willa's caravan wagon

OOC Date



Inside Willa's Wagon

This wagon is large, considering it was built with a growing family in mind. A large bed takes up the entire back wall. It is covered with silky bedding in a riot of vibrant colours. Along one wall a set of cupboards and a counter top sit, complete on the end with a large brazier, bolted to the floor, for cooking and heating purposes. The other wall, is lined with shelves and chests, full of Willa's belongings, clothes and treasures. A small Crib sits at the foot of the bed, a few handmade toys scattered around the foot of it. Somehow, Willa also has room for two rocking chairs with a small table between.

Thunder rumbles softly in the distance, and the buzz of springtime insects drones through the air. Other than that, all is eerily quiet in Igen's caravan grounds. A soft wind whispers through, bringing the scent of rain and a heavy jacket of humidity. The oncoming storm is thick in the air, and yet, something…something can be heard above the noise of the insects and the sigh of the wind…

It is a melodic sound, thick with feeling and heart. The sweet sound, if one cares to decipher it, is the sound of a mother, singing her infant to sleep. The wagons are tacked down for the night, the runners are safe out of the rain, and snuggled down in their wagon, cozy and warm, are Willimina and Lillia, sharing a moment of quiet peace.

"Hush-a-bye, don't you cry, go to sleep my little baby, when you wake, you shall have, all the pretty little dragons." Willa holds Lillia close, rocking her gently, smoothing her hair as she sings. "Greens and Blues, Golds and Bronze, Browns and itty bitty little hatchlings." Lillia's brown eyes grow heavy and flutter shut and Willimina hums the rest of the song softly, keeping it up until she hears deep, contented breaths coming from her daughter.

"You're so beautiful Lillia…" She murmurs to the sleeping babe as she scoots herself off the bed, she kisses her five and a half month infant on the forehead and lays her in her crib. The canine laying next to it wags his tail, thumping the floor softly. "You think so too, eh Rumple?" Willa asks, scratching his ears. Rumple huffs softly, leaning into the scratching. Frost, her little blue 'lizard, trills from his place on the counter. Willa pets him as well. "How about some tea guys?" She asks, Frost chirrups and Rumple stands to come lean on her leg.

Willa opens the one floor brazier in the wagon, and sets a kettle full of water on it to heat. She rummages through her cupboards and finds the little urn shaped jar that contains her tea bags. Small linen sacks full of tea leaves and herbs. She drops two in the kettle, intending on a strong brew. The scent of the tea very quickly takes up the interior of the wagon. Off in the distance, Willa can hear Timo playing a guitar, the soft twang seems to fit the mood. As Willimina gathers her mug and puts the urn back.

When she pulls her hand out, her finger catches on something and it goes tumbling to the counter below. Willa only sees a glint of silver and green before she realizes, it's the necklace with her and Ephraim's wedding rings on it. She picks p the chain, using her free hand to examine the rings closer, and loses herself in her thoughts.

Oh, I miss you Ephraim. Our daughter is so beautiful, I wish you could see how she's grown. The caravan is recovering, thank Faranth for that. I am grateful for it, and it's all because of Wrenari.

Willimina's thought's stop at that name. Wrenari. Her personal savior, the man that came and helped her rebuild after all the tragedy. Her face takes on a look of guilt.

I think I may be interested in him Ephraim. But every time I think about him, I feel guilty about you. Oh, I miss you… But you're gone. Would it be OK if I moved on?

The hissing of the kettle startles her out of her reverie. Lillia shifts in her crib, but stays asleep. Willa takes the kettle off the brazier and pours her mug of tea. She sets the hot kettle on a thick block of wood on the counter, and covers the brazier. The thunder rumbles closer. Willimina picks up her tea mug with both hands, inhaling deeply the earthy scent of the tea. She sits in her rocking chair and sips at her tea, her thoughts wandering again as the first drops of rain can be heard on the tin roof of her wagon. The wind blows, and the soft sound of the wind chime hanging from her roof can be heard.

You would have liked Wrenari Ephraim. Smart as a whip, and a mouth to match, he'd have been a perfect match for your verbal sparring. Willa laughs softly at this thought. He would have been a good second, even if you were still here. But you aren't. And I find myself feeling warmly towards him. He does everything I ask, and more…and He seems genuinely concerned with mine and Lillia's welfare. And he's a puzzle Ephraim, one I want to pick apart piece by piece until I can see the whole picture.

Willimina sighs, sipping at her tea. Rumple settles at her feet, a warm welcome presence. Frost leaps over to her shoulder, curling himself around her neck with an affectionate butt of the head. The twang of the guitar is still discernible over the noise of the storm. The chime tinkles softly outside.

I think he would be good for us Ephraim. He seems to dote on me, and though he hasn't had much to do with Lillia yet, I think he would love her. He seems to have the caravan's interests at heart. Briefly, Willa wonders if she's crazy for having one sided conversations with her dead husband in her head, but she shrugs, what others don't know won't hurt, right?

I know you would want me to move on, to be happy, but I feel guilty having these feelings when you aren't six months in the ground. But I do not want to grieve so heavily that I waste away, I did that with my mother.

Outside, the twang of the guitar is joined by Merivel's flute and Ganaletta's lap harp. Willa smiles. It is nice to here her people playing music again. She examines the necklace in her hand once more, and sets her mug on the chair side table. She stands, disturbing Rumple only slightly, the canine is soon snoozing at the oot of the chair, like she'd never been there. Se spends moments just staring at the rings, her heart somewhere between heavy grief and acceptance. She places the necklace in a soft little bag and places it in her box of jewelry, closing the lid with a thump of finality.

I cannot mourn you forever Ephraim. I love you, I always will, but I cannot deny the feelings I have for Wrenari. I hope you'll forgive me, and that someday, we see each other again. But I must live my life here on Pern, amongst the living. I must do it for myself, for Lillia.

Willa picks p her mug and finishes her tea, pouring herself a second cup when the first is gone. She watches Lillia sleep, lost in that mysterious world that children go when they sleep. Willa notes how peaceful her daughter looks, not a worry in the world. And a sense of quiet, of inner peace settle over Willimina, curing some of the pain she's been carrying around for months.

It's some time later when Willa gives p on the spinning thoughts drifting through her head, and the glow lights go out. Tomorrow is another day, and Willa will move on, for herself, for Lillia, For her people….and possibly a smart mouthed Zingari with a dashingly sinful smile….

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