|
|
Post by kay on Mar 10, 2011 17:19:58 GMT -5
Early morning brings the sunrise, stretching its purplish tendrils across the sky like a great exotic flower. Life in Dalibor is rarely still, or else there may be some cause to reflect on the perceived freshness of life on a warm morning following a cold night. Unfortunately, most of the weyr's residents are given over to one of two concerns at this time of day: getting to their daily tasks, or procuring for themselves some means of sustenance.
Quin falls into the latter category, having just risen from her bunk in the Candidate's lodgings. Some effort has apparently been made at making herself presentable. Clean teeth and neat fingernails, glossy boots and smoothed hair are all accounted for, although the means to this end were acquired with some difficulty. Following the assassinations, there has simply been too little time to spare to devote much of it to Candidate hand-holding. Quin is uncomplaining, however, as she matter-of-factly locates the kitchens.
Perhaps she has been all her life among nomads, but one need not be familiar with life in a weyr to know exactly where to go for breakfast. Any fool knows that porridge is hottest and sweetest at its source. So it comes to be that Quin approaches one of the cooks with a dish, or at least attempts to. Unfortunate it happens to be the flush of morning, and as any fool knows that the kitchen is the place to be at such a time, the young woman is left stranded in a large crowd of people working to the same ultimate goal.
|
|
Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman 
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
|
Post by Boo on Mar 10, 2011 18:46:09 GMT -5
"Neras! You had better stop licking my face!"
The shout that rang through the near empty halls of the weekend was accompanied by a slight squawk as a little black firelizard darted away from an older gentleman's face. Tedaon batted at the little black not unkindly and then proceeded to shake his head a little.
"Darn black thinks I've got nothing better to do with my time. All those people coming into the infirmary. Can't even have a drink."
No one seemed to be around at all, it was thankful because Tedaon had been up all night tending to any wounded. Although there weren't too many it was imperative that he look after those few around the Weyr before they lost any more dragons or their riders. He couldn't bear the fact that before they had even come to know the joys of being a rider everything had been taken away from the young Weyrlings. Neras took up a place on his shoulder, lying down and resting his head near the nape of Tedaon's neck.
"The cowards didn't even have the guts to move close to the Weyrbowl. And still there are people coming in to the infirmary with small injuries."
He rubbed his eyes and closed them for a moment. The truth of his current lack of sleep was more to do with the attacks themselves. Every time Tedaon closed his eyes he saw other things. Things he had forced himself to forget. So he instead immersed himself in helping those few people who were injured as though he could do nothing else.
He bustled into the kitchen and looked about.
"Oh yeah. Morning..." He trailed off, "Anyone got any Benden wine...? Any wine?" He asked the nearest group of people.
A few of them looked up from their work and shook their heads. He had doubted they would give it to him anyway. He needed to find a Rider to ferry the wine out to him every now and then. He brushed past a girl who was holding a bowl and set about finding himself some food, standing just in front of the girl. Any other person would have been concerned about pushing past her, Tedaon did not even notice. |
|
