Cathaline
Lady Holder 
cathct[M:50]
Posts: 3,279
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Post by Cathaline on Jan 4, 2013 3:21:42 GMT -5
It was perhaps unsurprising that, in the spring, some truly astonishing rainstorms blew in off the ocean. Sian was a desert child, born and raised, and in his time at Crescent he'd been protected from the gales by stone walls. There was no avoiding weather in a Weyr, however. While the barracks were gloriously closed off, they stood alone in the middle of the Bowl, and one had to cross the open land to get anywhere. Chores weren't cancelled just because the skies had opened up, and on top of that, people still needed to eat.
A gust of wind almost blew Sian off the bridge and into the swollen river. He couldn't see a blasted thing; his long hair was everywhere. He'd deliberately taken it out of its runnertail, because after the last storm, he'd learned just how painful it was to work a leather tie out of wet hair, but this was...hardly any better, to be honest. Maybe it was time to invest in a hood.
At last he made it to the barracks and staggered inside, one of the first Candidates back from dinner. The others might be lingering out of fear of just that harrowing experience, but Sian was exhausted and wanted to get to bed. Not going to do that while dripping, however, and the sodden figure swayed to the fire to stand in front of it. Pushing his black locks back, he knelt down and tried to get warm and dry, rubbing his hands together.
"Never anything like this in the desert," he groused to himself.
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Reky
Alphahandler
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Post by Reky on Jan 4, 2013 13:58:38 GMT -5
"Never," Hakotep echoed. The new bedraggled figure, bearing a demeanor best compared to a drowned cat, came in dripping from the storm. "Shouldn't have left."
The rain filled him, quite consistently, with a very fervent feeling of regret. His outlook on life was easily swayed by the weather. When the sun was shining and the spring days leaned more towards hot, he could deal with his anxiety. He was light-hearted, amiable, and smirked. But when it rained, he felt homesick to the greatest degree. Rain was unnatural. It rained, perhaps, once or twice a year where he had lived, and always all it managed to leave for them when they crawled out of their hold was the faint scent of wet sand. Being at Dalibor was like being sent to the Red Star - insufferable and alien.
Grimacing, he dropped to the floor next to Sian and slung his thick braid over to his front. He went about undoing it, tugging at it with frustration in his hands and on his face. When finally it all hung free, though kinked by the wetness, Hakotep gave into the heat of the fire and opened up to it. It was a vast improvement, but he was still frowning. How could anyone live here?
"You'd think these sea-'snakes would all have gills," he scoffed, but then he couldn't help the smirk that lifted at the corner of his mouth. "This is disgusting." [/blockquote] |
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Cathaline
Lady Holder
cathct[M:50]
Posts: 3,279
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Post by Cathaline on Jan 5, 2013 1:20:56 GMT -5
Wariness and warmth clashed in Sian's heart as he glanced over at the other Candidate. He knew there were others here from Igen, and really, it was a big Hold; how likely was it that any would recognise him? Still, to have someone here who might have known him in the past was daunting, even as it comforted him. Someone else who knew what it was like to come from that hot dryness, to adapt as best they could to the temperate jungle of the Western Continent.
Though caution never left Sian, not ever, he relaxed further into camraderie when the boy began fussing with his hair. Not many men wore their hair this long; Candidates, even seldom, because Candidates could become dragonriders, and hair was one more distraction. Sian took pride in his own locks, and it was nice not to be the only one, and to recognise the desert in dark skin like his.
"At least it will be summer soon," Sian said with a sigh, wringing out his tunic. Hakotep's next comment dragged a laugh from him, and he glanced over at the other boy. "It's shameful, really. How are dragons supposed to fly in this? You could drown just by standing out there with your mouth open."
Yet clearly they did live here, and had to make the best of it. At least, Sian did; his own plans, which did not include Impression, precluded him from transferring to the more comfortable climate of Igen Weyr. Curious, he asked, "If I may...why did you decide on Dalibor? Why not Igen instead? Assuming you are from Igen's surroundings," he added. The South had many deserts as well; Sian just tended to think in Northern terms.
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Reky
Alphahandler
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Post by Reky on Jan 6, 2013 18:28:06 GMT -5
As Sian spoke, a vacant smile rested on Hakotep's face. His eyes had fallen into the fire; half-lidded, they stared unseeing into the flicker and glow of the flames. His hands worked through his hair, spreading it and stroking it until it formed a much thinner layer across his shoulder and chest where it hung. Yes, he thought. It was shameful. He nearly drowned himself, what with the water dragging him down by his hair. Despite his awful posture and his ungainly gait, he liked to consider himself light on his feet - but he supposed it only applied when there was sand beneath them.
He stretched his spine out tall and then let it rumple back into its customary curve. His dark eyes slid over to Sian and, in speaking, his head then followed.
"I'm not sure, exactly," he said with a self-pitying smile. He was especially confused as to why he left when the sky opened up like this. "Impulse, I guess. The Plague hit Dalibor and they put out a call. The one person who tried to stop me didn't try very hard, so I left." He shrugged languidly under the thin wet layer of his tunic.
A part of him would always long for the desert. It was in his bones; it shone through his skin as rich colour and health. He had grown up being taught how to shutter the windows in a sandstorm and how to open them when it was calm to let the light in. The few at Kirrok who read would scratch out mining records in the sunlit tables of the upper atrium; those who didn't descended to the lower levels to escape the heat. He learned how to walk atop a sand dune and how to mine for salt with the men, though he never did appreciate the labour. A part of him would always despise the humidity of Dalibor, but already a part of him knew he'd never go home again.
"Guess I'm stuck now," he mused. Clearly, if he Impressed, he could transfer back - but the tone in his voice told of finality. Though not everything had been resolved in his confiding in Ghris (some things had even been complicated further), he was beginning to feel back to his old self. He thought with more clarity, and what became clear to him was that he was fully willing to endure endless buckets of rain to stay here.
He took a slow breath and sighed it out contentedly. "It's not so bad when your only real family is the desert itself, hm? No one's going to be wanting me back for any Turn End dinners." Which was a relief. He leaned back and braced his palms against the damp stone. Supposedly it had been dry before, but he'd tracked the wet in like some ill-trained hound. The fire was all he cared about for now, though, and Sian was surprisingly good company to him. He felt at ease. A little bit of Igen did that, he supposed. [/blockquote] |
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