Edlsesa says she's fine after dropping her mad brother off with the mind healers. But she's not. She's Really not.

Happens directly after Mad As A Hatter...


— On Pern —
It is 7:25 PM where you are.
It is early evening of the sixth day of the first month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen:
It is the sixty-sixth day of Winter and 35 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.


Igen Weyr, Crafter's Quarter's, Erikkhan's Studio

OOC Date 20 Jan 2018 07:00



Should have. Would have. Could Have. Maybe…Maybe…Maybe…


Erikkhan's Studio

This part of the domain serves as a personal art studio and office for Journeyman Harper Erikkhan. To the left is a wall with deep shelves carves into it, and where these shelves were once left open, all now have hinged, locked cabinet doors on them to keep little fingers from roaming where they shouldn't be. The shelves are stocked tightly, but neatly with various types of art supplies, from small jars of pigment to large canvases. Several bare wooden frames meant for stretching canvas lean against the only blank part of the wall. The right wall is lined with a few easels, two of which have covered canvases on them, and Erikkhan's desk which is orderly and currently covered in paperwork from The Harper. The back wall has two doors and what empty space there is left is occupied by samples of Erikk's work.
Obvious exits:
Realilina's Workroom Living Quarters Outer Hall

Things with the Mind Healers had gone quickly, and getting Kanriel settled had been easier with him in his placid state. The walk home had been longer, harder to deal with. Though Edlsesa had left Daen with assurances that she was going home and straight to bed.

She’d lied….

She’d dashed into the apprentice dorms to get her things, then dashed through the crafter’s quarters to her family’s abode, every step closer putting a strain on her heart and chest.

And now she stands in front of that locked door, feeling like someone is ripping at the internal structure of her chest and it’s getting harder to breathe. Sesa takes a steadying breath that hitches in her throat and unlocks the door, pushing wide the gate to a room that looks as if a whirling dervish had been through it. She forces herself through the threshold and shuts the door behind her, eyes roving wildly over the shattered pottery, the dust, her brother’s nest in the corner.

It’s almost too much to handle.

These hallowed halls where once a thriving, happy family lived and filled them with their warmth and light, are now cold and barren, empty of all but the small, insignificant girl that inhabits them.

Edlsesa has never felt more alone.

She should have told her mother about Kanriel a long time ago…

She should have got Kanriel help, a long time ago

She should have never let her family shatter into so many little broken pieces after her father's death…should have been stronger.

Should have. Would have. Could have. Maybe…Maybe…Maybe…

It all whirls around in her head as she drops her rucksack to the ground by the door and near robotically moves to the place where she knows a waste bin is hidden. She grabs it and moves back towards the door, bending and picking up detritus and shattered pottery along the way. So many shattered pieces…so many shattered memories here…

She can still hear the pottery shattering against the wall, Kanriel’s raging over the last couple o sevens, the whispers of the crafters as she’d made her way home this evening. There’s a loud thunking in the room to accompany Sesa’s thoughts as she picks up the mess. It’s the pottery shards hitting the sides of the waste bin as she chucks them in with some force….

I know you’re crazy Kan… but thanks for the fucking mess. As if I didn’t have a big enough mess to clean up already.

The thought comes unbidden and Edlsesa immediately feels guilty about it. After all, it’s her fault that he’s gone this far down the snake hole, she should have got him help sooner.

Should have. Would have. Could have. Maybe…Maybe…Maybe…

She moves over to where Kanriel had been nesting, and at first, her mind works on picking up the trash and rotting food and pottery shards that had blown back in this direction. But as she gets nearer Kan’s nest she finds things tucked under blankets and in between blankets and pillows. A smock of papa’s, sketchbooks, clothes, Papa’s metronome, his wedding band, some of Erikkhan’s brushes from the old world. A couple of rolled up paintings. Like a jay avian collecting trinkets for it’s nest.

Edlsesa drops to her behind, back leaning against the wall as she sets the waste bin aside, eyes on the sketch laying atop all of it. A family portrait Erikkhan had drawn, one of the corners smudged with charcoal. The scene is one so vividly familiar because it’d been seen near every evening in her household growing up. Erikk in his chair drawing, Mama doing her thing, and Kanriel and her, on the floor, playing at some make believe story or another.

It’s the straw that breaks the llama’s back and tears come readily and heavily from Edlsesa’s eyes and stream down her cheeks as a mourning wail leaves her chest like a carrion call and the sketch falls to the floor where it lands upside down as Edlsesa finally has the breakdown that’s been denied her since her father’s death.

She falls to her side, hands hiding in her face, nested in the place where her mad brother had stowed their father’s things. She sobs until there is no air left to sob, wails until her voice cracks and dies and then weeps until exhaustion comes over her and she falls into a troubled sleep full of phantoms and ghosts.

Tomorrow she will clean, tomorrow she will face the hard stuff, and probably break again.

Tomorrow she will clean her father’s things from this space and the rest, moving his essence temporarily into storage until this wee, broken little family can function without the man who was their very heart, soul and world.

Should have. Would have. Could have. Maybe…Maybe…Maybe…

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