Reveka writes a desperate letter to Amani in Southern


-- On Pern --
It is 6:38 PM where you are.
It is evening of the twenty-second day of the twelfth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen:
It is the twenty-second day of Winter and 34 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.
In Southern:
It is the twenty-second day of Summer and 99 degrees. It is sunny and bright. White fluffy clouds drift lazily across the china blue sky.
In Southern Mountains:
It is the twenty-second day of Summer and 21 degrees. It's really damn cold out.


Igen Weyr, Living Caverns

OOC Date 15 May 2018 06:00




Living Cavern

Living Caverns

Brightly lit by a regimented march of strung glow-globes, Igen's busy living caverns are cut of the same exotic limestone design that frequents the bazaar without. Tapestries line the tops of the walls, one for each of Igen's wings, past and present; beneath them, skybroom tables litter the floors in scattered profusion. Some of the wicker chairs have seen better days, but most of the worst offenders have long-ago been replaced. The seemingly random placement of furniture, however, at closer inspection yields a sort of cross-shape of negative space. The northernmost walls and nooks of the caverns are owned by the kitchen's buffet, food-laden thrice daily in regimented shifts by busy bakers from the curtained southern entrance to the kitchens. To the east is a large arch leading outside; westerly lies the large doors leading down into the bowels of the weyr itself.

It’s supper time, and it’s been a few days since Reveka’s visit to En’rys, since the day the last pieces of her heart had broken. How many times had that happened over the last couple of turns? She’s lost count. First with Bon. Then with En’rys, and Raeverys, and then En’rys again. It seems like it’s been an endless cycle of heartache and bad decisions for the young Zingari woman.

Had falling in love with Bonifas been a mistake?

No. Everyone has their first love.

Had Falling for En’rys been a mistake?

Again. No. She can’t imagine her life having not loved her green riding cat of a man.

Not taking her herbs had been a mistake. ..

Not making sure he had been on his herbs had been a mistake…

Getting pregnant had been a mistake…

A huge mistake…

Which is odd. Considering she doesn’t look at Raeverys as a mistake. He is a perfect, beautiful baby. Her son. Yet. He is not her son. Not now. Not ever. Reveka had given him away the moment he was born. Because she’d selfishly thought she could have a baby and that maybe, maybe she could give him up for a little while then take him back when En’rys could be hers again.

That had been a stupid, stupid thought.

En’rys isn’t even done with his weyrling training yet. And Igraine is already very attached to Raeverys. And Reveka, though she does love her son, it’s more like a little brother, she doesn’t have that mother/son bond with him, because she’d separated herself from him from the start. Because, the second he’d been born she’d realised her stupid, selfish dream had been just that, the stupid, selfish dream of a child.

She could no longer take Raeverys from Igraine than she could one of her siblings from her own mother. She’d seen the love in Igraine’s eyes for that child the second the woman had helped birth him. And Reveka knew then too, that she wasn’t ready to raise a child. And she’d known the second she’d left En’rys’ weyr the other night, that she wasn’t ready to be with him again yet either, not when somewhere along the last two turns, she’s lost herself.

Reveka doesn’t know who she is anymore. What she wants. Or what she even can be, being a ruined woman, a disgraced one. She’d been impulsive, reckless and happily carefree with En’rys, then Daenerys, and she’s paying for it now in spades. And while she would love nothing more than to be with En’rys and forget the horrors of the last turn, she can’t. She can’t stay here and heal. She can’t stay here where her son is less than three feet away from her at times and her lover is still (understandably) too wrapped up in raising and training a baby dragon to actually be there for her, or even himself. Reveka needs time and space to figure things out.

Before she goes absolutely insane.

And she can’t do that in Igen.

En’rys had accused her of running away…

And maybe she is…

Sighing, Reveka takes out a fresh piece of hide from her rucksack, and with shaking hands, she pushes away her mostly untouched dinner and smooths it out on the table. She pulls out an inkwell and a quill and once her hands steady, she dips it and begins to pen a letter to one of her dearest friends.

My Dearest Amani,
I hope this letter finds you well and that things in Southern are decidedly better than they are here at home in Igen. Things over the last turn and a half have been such a topsy turvy mess that I don’t even know where to begin.
What I do know is this: I need to get away from here for awhile. I’m a mess. A true, right down to Pern, honest to Faranth mess and I’m afraid that if I stay here, the next place for me is going to be a permanent trip to the mind healers. I’d rather be dropped ::between:: than go crazy. So, I know you’re schedule down there is crazy, and that being a Queen rider, you don’t have much time to yourself, but….
Can I come stay awhile? I need to figure myself out again. Need a new life for awhile where no one really knows me, or what I’ve done, or where I’ve been. I need a break from all the disdain I face here. I know it won’t make my problems go away, but I’m not strong enough to face them right now.
En’rys says I’m running away.
And Maybe I am.
But I need this, and I need my best friend. Please.
With all love, and just a little bit of insanity,

She’s in tears by the time she scratches out her name on the hide and sets the quill aside to allow it to dry. Allowing herself to be vulnerable like this is not a thing Reveka is used to doing. Even now, the urge to lose herself in a bottle of red is quite strong. But she can’t really, for one, there’s the risk of vomiting on someone again, and two, it won’t really help anything.

Once the ink is dry on the hide, she rolls it up and sends it along with one of her flizzen fair, a heavy sigh on her lips. She stands and takes a long look at the living caverns of Igen weyr.

This might be the last time she sees them for a long while.

Better to memorize them now.

And after a while, and after a few odd stares, the Zingari woman gathers her things and leaves, headed home to pack. Headed away from her problems and hopefully, towards healing and sanity.

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