H'rik reads F'in's letter.

Follows on from Handoff


It is evening of the first day of the fifth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.


Weyrleader's weyr, Igen

OOC Date 08 Nov 2017 00:00




The Weyrleader's weyr

The Weyrleader's weyr. The inhabitants change over the turns, like the shifting sands of the Great Desert, but a few things remain. A large wooden desk. An impressive hearth. A well-stocked liquor cabinet.

H'rik enters the empty weyr, the Weyrleader's weyr - his weyr, now. He still can't quite work that one out in his head. He wanders around the place, inspecting the empty hearth, opening the door of the liquor cabinet to have a look at the contents (he can't help but be impressed by the range), and finally coming to the large wooden desk that dominates the room.

The bottle there is moved aside, to release the note beneath it. H’rik stays standing as he picks it up, still hesitant about sitting at the Weyrleader’s desk. The role may now be his, but it feels too much like taking a seat still warm from the previous occupant.

Instead, he paces as he reads the letter, a too-quick read through the first time so that he as to go over it again, forcing himself to slow down and actually absorb the words.

Does he feel reassured by F’in’s words? With the former Weyrleader’s apparently blessing, does he feel any less uneasy about taking over from the man? H'rik doesn't think he does.

It's early days, though. Wendryth is still pleased as punch with his meteroic rise (though the bronze does not view it as such, professing that he is upholding his oath to Igen, his place of birth). H'rik is still overwhelmed. He thinks he will be for a while yet. There's so much to consider, so much to do.

Baby steps. The first step? To finally ease himself into the chair at the desk, letting his fingers curl round the ends of the arms. The second step is to pour a glass ofthe whiskey.

The third step …he won't worry about that right now.

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