Logs:A Child
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| RL Date: 1 November, 2008 |
| Who: K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Immediately after his altercation with Tiriana, K'del heads back to the barracks to Cadejoth - and his letter. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 2, Turn 18 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Milani/Mentions, Nakasha/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions |
| Despite feeling relatively confident that he'd finished with the upper hand in his confrontation with Tiriana, K'del fumed for a while on his way back to the barracks, and while putting Cadejoth to bed, too. The young bronze was not thrilled about this - « You shouldn't fight. I don't like it when people fight. We need to get along! » - but Kas found he couldn't help it. It wasn't like he'd said anything untrue about himself. His face WOULD clear up, and he had had plenty of successful liaisons with girls, even with grown women. But Tiriana always seemed to make him feel defensive, like he had something to prove, and he hated that. He had what he wanted. What did it matter, what she thought? Actually, he thought she was pretty sad. Sure, he got defensive, but she ALWAYS seemed to be. Like she expected the world to be against her, and was going to prove that she didn't care. But she did. He bit his lip, snuggling up against Cadejoth, who'd gone out like a light - again. Maybe he should be nicer. Maybe she deserved pity, sympathy, something like that, not scorn. But. But, but, but. No. Definitely not. He'd show her. He was probably lucky she wouldn't report him to, like, the Weyrlingmaster or the Weyrwoman or someone. Despite finding them boring, he had paid attention in those etiquette classes, and he knew the score: no matter how irritating he found her, she did outrank him by an awful lot, and he was supposed to be respectful. How you were supposed to be, when faced with that, he didn't know. But. At least those classes were over with. The anatomy stuff was far more interesting. And things'd keep getting more interesting, he assumed. The dragons weren't sleeping quite as much. Probably, there'd be classes involving them more directly, before too much longer. He was looking forward to that. He wasn't sleepy. Sometimes, he found it hard to stay awake when he curled up against Cadejoth, feeling soft hide against his skin, those deep breaths. It was the only time he really ever got to examine Cadejoth properly - the only time the bronze was ever really still, and a lot of the time he just fell asleep despite himself. Not tonight, though, because even ignoring the whole Tiriana thing, there was that letter, still unopened and sitting on his press. He'd actually received it a few days ago. He wasn't sure why he kept putting off opening it - it was just a letter! He was an adult, none of it mattered. Just like he'd told Milani. But it did, kind of, matter. He'd expected that they'd respond immediately, to his, either in anger or in apology, whatever. But it had taken weeks, and that had... well. Worried him. He didn't know what to expect, anymore. He crawled away from Cadejoth, reaching out to pick up the letter again. The envelope was beginning to look pretty ragged. If he held it up to the glow, he could almost see the writing through it - but the key word was 'almost'. He could see the writing, but not what it said. People knew about the letter, now. Well. Milani did. And what if she asked him, and he still hadn't opened it? That would be beyond embarrassing. Imagine, being too scared to open a silly letter that doesn't even matter! He'd have to open it, now. Maybe that was why he'd taken it to the nighthearth in the first place, so maybe someone would see him with it. That was beyond lame, he told himself, bitterly. Coward. He turned the letter over, examining the other side of it. There were oil stains on it. And blood stains. And was that klah? And there was a rip in it, too. You could almost already pull the paper out. Easy. Anyway, it didn't matter anyway, right? RIGHT? He took in a deep breath, then let it out. Finally, closing his eyes, he ripped it open. The paper lay in his hand, and he willed himself to look down at it. Coward, he told himself again. Cowardly cowardly custard. Tiriana would laugh at you, and she'd be right this time. Milani'd probably mother you over it. And you'd deserve that - you'd deserve her thinking you a child, because you would be. He looked down.
He slipped back under the covers, long since transferred into the couch, though Cadejoth was getting quite large to sleep against - if better than any hot water bottle. He curled up, pressed his hand against the bronze's side, and fell asleep. |
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