Who

Maikah

What

Maikah reflects on recent and VERY recent events. His life is at the whim of dragons it would appear.

Maikah wanted a vig :3

When

It is before dawn of the tenth day of the fifth month of the seventeenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Stables, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 23 Jun 2019 12:00

 

maikah_009.jpg

“Bloody dragons.”


stables.jpg

Stables

The stone stables of Southern sweep breezily in arches and vaulted ceilings, done in the same architecture that figures so prominently within the inner caverns. A half-loft in the back shows neatly stacked hay bales, the sweet scents from the fodder drifting down to commingle with the aroma of runner and leather and sweat. There, broad box stalls house inhabitants safely away from the fancies of dragons: nickers and restless stompings fill the air, nirvana to those so inclined.


While sheep didn’t really require much before dawn, the force of habit has Maikah up and about before the sun rises. There are always chores and the companionship of like-minded individuals and their love of critters great and small was about as social as Maikah gets.

On this particular morning, the gossip about the chaos and the aftermath of Yoprith’s clutch has given way to news of another hatching, a double hatching in Igen, a place so far away and foreign from the green wet jungles of Southern. Maikah knew it in passing, his formative turns spent in neighbouring Keroon, but other than that he kept his mind on his tasks and not on the hum of speculative conversation that accompanies the apprentices and journeymen. That is until one name stands out.

“Did you say Tzielle?” He asks of the apprentice, stopping to hunch closer to the interactions of his peers.

He was quickly assured that Tzielle was mentioned, and that she had gone on to Impress green. This gives the already taciturn herder a further study in silence, as he ponders the news.

“Huh!…. Good on her…” He mutters, his deep voice only barely reflecting the pride that he feels, even as his blue eyes cross to the reclaimed tack room that used to house the other journeyman, the short smith who had sharpened his shears. The barest hint of a very satisfied smile is hidden under his beard, but he is a silent ally of those who wish to thwart the Telgari interloper and his old-fashioned ways. And the Impression of a good Southern Girl (The South claims all eventually) in a foreign weyr counts as victory in the quiet herders books. “Good on her…” He repeats, not having any further words to add to the conversation.

The kittens he had shown her have grown now, and have joined the ranks of opportunistic felines that supposedly keeps the barn free of pests. While a feline probably wasn’t appropriate, the cogs in his mind turn. Some token must be sent. But what? Pondering this question he remains silent until an excited apprentice comes running in with the golden hint of true dawn.

“There are carcasses ALL over the feeding pens!” Comes the announcement, with the exception of those who tend to the milking, the herders mobilize to butcher the blooded remains of yet another mating flight.

“Bloody dragons.” The deep sonorous mutter comes again, as Maikah surveys the carnage. The sheer number of bodies indicating a gold flight in his experience, BUT! for once contained to the correct pastures. With a put upon sigh, he pushes up his sleeves and gets to work. “…She’ll be right.” This final cryptic statement could be for apprentices he organizes to clear the aftermath. Or it could be for the former Smith Journeyman? Still waters run deep, and there aren’t many who know how deep this still journeyman can really be. “She’ll be right!”

Add a New Comment