Who

Seskan, G'tan

What

Seskan visits his parents and reflects a bit before settling into his new posting at Igen Weyr.

When

It is the fourth day of the third month of the twentieth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

The Overlook (Zinakoth and Danorath's Ledge), Igen Weyr

OOC Date 28 May 2020 06:00

 

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“I’ve got my spot in the apprentice dorms, and you know I’ll visit a lot. I just don’t wanna be underfoot.”



The Overlook

This ruddy-hued ledge seems unbalanced, deeper on the eastern end than the western. There, a shallow, sandy depression marks the spot where the dragons sleep. Landings are made somewhere in the middle, judging by the myriad gouges scarring the rock there, while a tapering outcrop ending in a large boulder juts out from the deep side. This is where Zinakoth likes to rest, his front half propped upon the stone point the allows him to look out over the Bowl with one of the most unobstructed views in all the Weyr. A shallow overhang precedes the entrance into the weyr, a few hooks and a stone shelf providing a place for straps and oiling necessities.


“Thanks for the ride, Dad. And Zinakoth.”

The craggy bronze rumbles in reply as Seskan claps his shoulder after dismounting. Beside him, G’tan smiles warmly and goes about removing the straps from his lifemate. “Any time, Skan-man,” he answers, grinning unrepentantly when Seskan rolls his eyes at the nickname. He’s used to it and really doesn’t mind, but he has a reputation to uphold as a teenage boy, apparently. “You know you’ve always got a place to stay up here if you want it.”

“Yeah, I know. But I know you and Mom are enjoying not having kids around,” he scoffs, though it’s playful. The reasons why he says that are not ones he wants to dwell on; his imagination does not wish to deal with his parents in certain situations, but he’s savvy enough to acknowledge that there comes a point when not having him and his sister around is more convenient. G’tan just chuckles. “I’ve got my spot in the apprentice dorms, and you know I’ll visit a lot. I just don’t wanna be underfoot.”

“You mean you’ve got your own stuff goin’ on and you don’t want Mom and Dad nosin’ in on it,” G’tan corrects, prompting a rueful, lopsided smile from his son. Finishing with Zinakoth’s straps, he comes back around to his son and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Trust me, I get it. It’s fine, Skan. Just remember we’re here if you need us.”

“I know, Dad.”

The bronzerider’s arm tightens around Seskan’s shoulders, and the boy leans into it with a soft, deep sigh. “Come say hi to your mom.”

Seskan turns to do just that and finds that his mother has already saved him the trouble of a walk inside the weyr. Erissa has an enthusiastic hug for her son before the trio moves inside, where Seskan fills them in on why he’s back and what’s been going on in his life. He learns the goings-on in turn and gets filled in on how Issaia is doing with her new apprenticeship in the Herder Hall.

Dinner comes and goes, and Seskan eventually finds himself sitting outside on the ledge, alone with his slowly swirling thoughts as he watches the sunset with his legs dangling over the edge. It is good to be back. He’d missed the desert, even after being around the impressive mountains and cooler air of Fort and the Harper Hall. But the desert has a different sort of beauty that he’s partial to, having grown up in it. Aside from that, there isn’t a better place for him to work on his somewhat unusual cartography project.

It wasn’t really necessary for him to request a continuation of his studies here. But after his struggles with his voice the past two years, he felt he’d needed to leave, as though it would distance him from the place his mortification began.

He should be over it by now, he knows. His voice has settled into a comfortable baritone, and he can admirably carry a tune once more. He’s been told he’s ready. He just doesn’t feel ready to have his singing scrutinized in earnest by the Masters again just yet.

Seskan also feels restless, and he isn’t sure why. Perhaps returning to Igen isn’t the answer, but it’s all he could think to do for the time being. He does like the prospect of getting to run around somewhere he wasn’t allowed when he was younger. Having official sanction to do so helps a great deal.

He smirks at the thought and sighs, gazing off toward the north where the caves lie, then down toward the gaping entrance to the internal Weyr. He’ll need to go present himself to the Weyr’s Harpers as an apprentice rather than a student now. That should be interesting. It’ll have to wait for the morning, though. Rukbat has sunk below the horizon, and he’d better get to ground level if he wants time to settle into the apprentice dorms for the night.

He almost opts to stay with his parents. Almost. But as much as he loves them, he’s not sure he can do it. He likes being in his own space now, and that like significantly outweighs the little twinge of regret that comes with the thought. Ah, the joys of growing up!

He scoots back from the ledge and pushes to his feet, straightening his sweater and rolling his shoulders out a bit. One last bit of visiting happens before G’tan conveys him down to the Bowl, where he hefts his pack onto his back and makes his way through the familiar sights and sounds and smells of the Bazaar. He pauses before the Crafter Quarters - a facade he’s seen many times before but never gone past. With a decisive nod, he starts toward the doors. Time to check in and find his bunk.

Time to try figuring out his next few Turns.

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