Amani, Zymuraith


Amani makes her annual remembrance of they day she was born, and Zymuraith imbues it with significance.


It is dawn on the 4th day of the 5th month of the 12th Turn of the 12th Pass.


Weyrling Barracks, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 03 Nov 2017 06:00


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« You began in the shadows beneath the ground. Now you soar in the light above it. With me. »


Weyrling Barracks

Natural entropy lies restrained by sheer force of will within the chaotic spiral of Southern's weyrling-barracks. The large entry hollows out into an immense common area at the front of the barracks, where sustenance can be procured for both sides of the lifebond: tables are typically set out with at least the trimmings for sandwiches, and often carcasses lie in the hollowed pit for fresh weyrlings to carve chunks of meat for their new lifemates. Beyond, the couches are set within a U-shape around a long pool, spring-fed, large enough to bathe growing dragons.

Heavy tapestries line the stone walls towards the rear of the barracks, while space is at a premium towards the front: shelves and pegs hold leathers and tools, books and useful trinkets of the dragonriding trade. The narrow-point of the U branches into two hallways: one for the candidate barracks, and one for the weyrlingmaster's office.

Turndays have always been just another day for Amani. She never expects anything, never really mentions when it is (unless it needs to be noted somewhere officially, such as her dossier for weyrlinghood), and barely does anything about it herself. She wakes up, acknowledges her survival of another Turn of life with a smile, and goes about her routine. In this case, it means rising for PT and breakfast…though there’s some quiet communion to be had with her lifemate first.


Supposedly it’s a milestone age. Sixteen was supposed to have been that, too, though more in the way of recognizing a young woman as…nubile, when she lived in the Underground. Was eighteen the age she would have been supposed to be married by? Not that it matters here. Not now. Her life is something completely different than she’d ever envisioned then.

Eighteen is when many of the Zingari are officially recognized as adults, she remembers. The thought warms her. Yes, she’ll hold to that, wondering how it would have been to be among them today.

In so many ways, she’s already been an adult for eight years. But in so many others, she feels much younger than she truly is. Inexperienced. Things are coming more and more into balance for her, though - just as she needs it to.

« Today is when you came to be? » Zymuraith’s happiness at this is unmistakeable, the walls of her innermost sanctum among her myriad tents warming into autumnal reds and golds around Amani’s mind. Scenes of black and white felines - some large and fierce and striped, some small and playful and solidly-hued - are embroidered across the candlelight-warmed canvas. The scents of caramel and cider spice, chocolate and crisp fall air are more muted here, something softer and more distinctly feminine blending in…though Amani hasn’t placed what it is just yet. It is comfortable and warm, cushions strewn about for laying upon, the roof of this tent emblazoned with intricate golden stars upon deep twilight blue for a bit of secluded “stargazing” while prone, if one wishes. There is also a small table here - familiar, being wrought of black wood draped with a square of red velvet and a deck of cards stacked perfectly in the middle of the top.

Amani smiles gently, contentment in the moment, in the privacy of her mind in harmony with Zymuraith’s, settling within her like a tranquil pool. » Yes. Eighteen Turns ago. In the caves. «

The lighting within the warm crimson tent dims, but not out of dislike of Zymuraith’s mention of the caves. Instead, it makes things feel more intimate, closer and cozier. « You began in the shadows beneath the ground. Now you soar in the light above it. With me. »

Amani sets her hands to either side of Zymuraith’s muzzle, resting her head against the growing gold’s nose. » And I wouldn’t change a thing. «

Truly, she wouldn’t. She might not be here without having endured the road just as it was laid out before her, after all.

As she rests in that thought, the deck of cards on the velvet-draped table stirs, the topmost one flipping over and coming into sharper focus before her mind’s eye. Curious, she examines it thoroughly, having wondered just what the appearance of the card means since the one she’d shown after their first flight together. The picture on this one, however, is different from the last.

Dominating the top half of the card are Timor and Belior, situated among the stars of a night sky above the pinnacles of two old stone towers. Their full forms bear the faint forms of what appear to be faces. A path between the towers leads off to the horizon below the moons, and there two canines, a wild one standing to the right with it’s feet on the road, while another one stands to the left, smooth-coated and collared, all fours on the grass. Both are howling skyward. The end of the path at the bottom of the card is obscured by a pool of rippling water, and there is a spiderclaw sitting at its edge. There are letters at the bottom of the card - an X, a V, and three of the letter I.

Amani isn’t sure what to make of it, initially, which is the case with most things Zymuraith shows her…but she also knows enough by now to understand that her lifemate means for her to look at them through the veil of her imagination. Even so, she solicits some help from Zymuraith. The symbols on the card might mean something completely different to her than they do to her lifemate. » Help me out a bit, Zymuraith… «

« Why did you like being out in the moonlight so much, when you were in the desert? »

» It felt easier to think there. Easier to sort through things. «

« You have gotten better at doing that again. Listening to your intuition for what it is instead of always hearing it through me. We need ourselves as much as we need each other. »

So the moons are a portrayal of her time spent upon herself, in a way…though she doesn’t know what the faces mean, and Zymuraith doesn’t touch on them just then. The meaning of the path seems clear enough, running on ahead to the horizon between the portal framed by the towers rather in a nearly straight line, though the pool of water and spiderclaw just confuse her until she thinks it over for a few long moments. » Well…I did start my journey with the unknown. « Water in abundance and the life that dwells within it had been largely alien to her before coming to Southern - an apt symbol of where she’d started if ever there was one.

« That you did! You’re getting better at this. » Zymuraith utters a soft sound somewhere between a rumble and a croon as she curls further around her bonded, pleased that Amani came to such a conclusion on her own.

The two canines, however, are a sticking point. » That might be the extent of my luck, love… «

« Luck has nothing to do with it, » the gold states definitively, the candle flames within the sunset-hued tent glowing briefly white like the bonfire beyond the walls before settling to their normal golden-orange again. « Focus on their differences. »

Amani studies the images of the canines carefully, one wild and dark, the other groomed and lighter. » I suppose…they could be like sides of me. The rough-looking one being who I was before, the clean one who I am now. « Again Zymuraith rumbles, her great head nodding subtly. » Both parts of me…bent toward the same purpose? «

« With the wilder side of you being more ready to set foot on the path to be traveled. It was what led you away from your old life at the start, after all. »

Amani smiles quietly at this. She can’t truly compare herself to Southern’s wildlings, though that’s very nearly the analogue to what she’d been in the desert. Not a nomad, but a cave-dweller and a wanderer, a hunter and a survivor. The instincts born of that side of her were what had given her the courage to step away from it into the unknown world beyond. She wouldn’t be here without that.

She realizes that they’ve gone over the entirety of the card now. It turns and tucks itself seamlessly back into the deck, Zymuraith evidently concurring. » Reminders of where I’ve been, where I’m going, and what to do in the present, then? «

« Indeed. » The young gold nuzzles gently at her bonded, with Amani once again setting her head against the warm, shimmering hide of her lifemate’s nose. « Remembering the day you came to be is a happy thing, my Amani. I’m glad you did. I can share in the rest with you now. »

And that is enough to make Amani’s Turnday memorable from eighteen onward.

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