Sesa, Edleveth


Edleveth is Hungry and Sesa is Sleeping, this does not a good combo make.


-- On Pern --
It is 6:52 AM where you are.
It is morning of the nineteenth day of the seventh month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen:
It is the seventy-ninth day of Summer and 109 degrees. Rukbat's heatwave has not yet let up, gripping Igen in its tight fist. Escape the heat!
In Southern:
It is the seventy-ninth day of Winter and 37 degrees. Still dark and overcast, the winter rain has picked up and become heavier, albeit still pleasant.
In Southern Mountains:
It is the seventy-ninth day of Winter and 0 degrees. It's really damn cold out.


Weyrling Barracks; Edleveth's Couch

OOC Date 25 Mar 2018 06:00


sesa2.jpg edleveth_default.gif

«The world shakes with the force of my rumbling stomach!!! Awaken Sesa! Awaken and slake this unending hell…»


Weyrling Barracks; Edleveth's Couch

A cluster of small buildings punches out from the Weyr's walls here, each building just spacious enough to admit a few growing weyrlings and little else. Each has its own sturdy little hide covering the entrance to provide a modicum of privacy to its occupants, and a large stone basin for meat or water stands ready nearby. The Weyrlingmaster's office sits to one side, the smallest building in the area often doubling as class space. Within that space, the pale salted walls are covered with various charts, maps, and informational diagrams. In the small yard surrounded by these buildings, tables and chairs stand ready to seat as few or as many weyrlings as needed. A small hearth is situated at the nearest wall, with a small assortment of pots and kettles available to heat food or boil water, whether for cleaning or for klah.


It starts as a drop of ink, dusky blue, falling into water, then black, melding and flowing together like fish dancing. Ebb and flow, pull and tug.

«Sesa, my darling, my twilight over the sea…»

Ink spreads, morphing, changing, effervescent. Sesa rolls in her sleep, head curling into her pillow as she fights the wakefulness that’s coming over her, or is she dreaming? Ink spreads to the edges of her mind, then bleaches out to parchment before drips of ink fall, spreading into the form of mated birds.


«The bells, the bells Sesa, they toll the time for breaking our fast. The bells my love, the bells.»


A bird takes flight, rorschach blots morphing into an avian of the hunt. In haunting black and parchment tones it dives from the skies and lands upon a fleeing porcine and red, red takes over, dropping over her mind like a spill of pigment into oil. Black creeps in, a pair of snarling canines fighting over the kill.

seeingred.gif hunger.gif

«The world shakes with the force of my rumbling stomach!!! Awaken Sesa! Awaken and slake this unending hell…»

The snarl of a rabid canine rings loudly in Sesa’s mind along with the thundering staccato of her beating heart, his beating heart, someone’s beating heart, in a tattoo so wild it nearly drives one mad. Sesa sits bolt upright in bed, unfocused eyes looking over to the inkstained blue she bonded with last night on the sands. Her head rings with the force of that snarl, her heart races the beat of the one in her head.


Will she ever get used to that? Sesa doubts it, but as weirded out as she is about having a living work of art in her head, there is love there too. Love of a sort she’s never experienced before, one that runs deeper than any ocean, any pit, deeper than any romantic love she’s ever read of.

«And with prodding, she wakes! Come greet the day my lovely lady, and let us slake this ever present hunger. The day becomes you my Sesa, embrace it with me.»

Sesa smiles, her own stomach rumbling, or was it Edleveth’s? She can’t tell. “Alright, alright, I am up my blue. Let’s feed this hunger of yours before it eats me from the inside out, eh?” Time for another day of chores, though of a much different sort than ever before.

And Sesa couldn’t be happier about it, even when the ink of her mind returns to the slow drip of black and blue.

Add a New Comment