Someone of Zingari Origin Lands on Southern's Shores, The first Zingari man to physically cross the sea in living memory.

Mild swearing


-- On Pern --
It is 5:04 AM where you are.
It is early morning of the thirteenth day of the twelfth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen:
It is the thirteenth day of Winter and 34 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.
In Southern:
It is the thirteenth day of Summer and 99 degrees. It is sunny and bright. The skies are clear.
In Southern Mountains:
It is the thirteenth day of Summer and 21 degrees. It's really damn cold out.


Southern Weyr, Beach

OOC Date 12 Jan 2018 07:00





Southern Weyr, Beach

An eerie mirror, the glass-quiet Sea of Azov: the clear waters stretch along the dark-pebbled shores, and along this narrow beach. Here the faintest lap of waves belies the calm beyond; here the rocks have been ground down into finest, softest sand - those observant would mark upon the similarity between it and the sands of the hatching grounds. The soft sand soaks up summer sunlight as a sponge; painfully hot during the warmer months, it is only truly pleasant at wintertime. Rocks rise to east and west, lichen-limned and green against the abyssal darkness of stone.

It is the thirteenth day of Summer and 99 degrees. It is sunny and bright. The skies are clear.

No blooded Zingari has ever physically crossed the sea…at least not in recent memory.

And yet, this day, one finds himself on the other side of the sea, far from the north and the land his people (or what used to be his people) call home.

A desert child arrived to the wild jungles to start anew…

Dawn breaks, Rukbat’s rays spreading out like fingers to touch and dance along crested waves, causing flickers of light to glitter upon the surface like a thousand blinking mirrors in the light. A ship breaks the waves, waves as red as blood on sand. For days they’d had dolphins chasing the waves with them, dancing close to the hull and then breaking away. And then the red tide had appeared, and the dolphins had gone.

For a day or so now the ship has passed through waters that look as if they’d seen a bloody war…

A man stands at the fore of the ship, wide, brown eyes afraid and full of superstitious light. This is a dark omen, one that sends a chill down his spine. He should never have left the homeland. He will die here, the sea may as well be singing his funeral dirge for him. Death lies here. It’s spelled in the tide and the dead fish floating in it.

Taking a steadying breath, the man beats down age old superstitions while scrubbing at the stubble on his face with his hands. He beats his fears back into the locked box in his mind where they belong, out of sight, out of mind as they would say. He looks back out to the sea where the lush, green line of Southern’s shores are just coming into view. The wind has the scent of land upon it, and it is this the man makes himself focus on.

“LAAAAANNNNNND HOOOOOOOO!” Comes the sudden and loud announcement from the man in the avian’s nest and is followed by the sharp, shrill whine of his whistle. The once quiet ship now bustles with activity and the man sighs, his peace and quiet ruined by the hussle and bustle of trying to prepare to port.


The man turns to face the woman he’s shared a set of bunks with since the start of the journey. “Hmm?”

“We’ll be in port in less than a couple of hours…you should get ready to go.”

“Right. I suppose I should.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, Xeiri turns to make his way to the cabins, brushing by the woman with a brief thanks. Things had been awkward since the beginning. How he ever got paired up with some holder’s niece in the cabins is beyond him. He’s made it his business to only be in the cabin during inclement weather or while he sleeps. Otherwise he’s been helping the crew and trying to swallow his fear of the sea and what lies beyond it. “Thanks…”

“You’re welcome. Uhm… Xeiri…”


“It was a pleasure traveling with you.”

Xeiri turns to look at the woman, his eyes raking her form. She really isn’t bad to look at, but going there would have been bad for Xeiri. “Uh-huh, same to you. Good luck kid.” He tips a two finger salute from his forehead and continues on, regardless of the half pining look the woman sends his way.

By the time the ship has docked, Xeiri is topside and ready to go, his rucksack slung over his shoulders. The lush jungles of Southern’s continent rise up above him, a green sigil, a sign of new life to come…omens be damned.

“ALL ASHORE WHAT’S GOIN’ ASHORE!!!!” Someone yells and opens up the plank for people to move off the ship.

For the first time in sevens, Xeiri’s feet finally step on solid ground, and his legs shake with the relief of finally being reunited with terra firma. When he’s past the line of sand reddened by the tide, he drops to his knees, a bit overwhelmed by feeling like he still has the ship moving under his feet. It makes his stomach roil. And then, it hits him. Igen is gone. His family is gone. He is forever disconnected from a people who’d been his heart and soul since his birth.

He retches into the sand, sea sickness overwhelming him along with the desolite feeling of isolation.

He buries his sick when he is able, and composes himself. It was his choice to leave northern shores for southern climates. And it was his choice to leave with his family when Willimina passed judgement on those who would stand against her. There are times when Xeiri regrets this, as he was guilty of no real crime against Willimina but following the whims of his parents. He’d been nineteen turns at the time, an adult, but not.

Still, the decision was made. And he had left. He’d stayed only long enough to make sure his sisters weren’t married off to monsters, and then he’d left, no longer willing to follow his parent’s archaic beliefs into non-existence. And here, a few turns later, he stands on Southern’s shores, on the cusp of a new beginning, a new life, a new existence…and it scares him shitless.

However….as with all things, life goes on, and now all he can do is face it head on with his fears kept tightly in check.

This is his new life.

This is his new home.

This is the beginning, not the end.

All there is to do now is move forward…

And hope bloody omens have no true meaning.

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