Logs:Bad Things
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| RL Date: 8 April, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Farideh reacts to the bazaar fire and the Weyrwoman's death. |
| Where: Candidate Quarters, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 6, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Aishani/Mentions, Issedi/Mentions, Teris/Mentions |
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| The smell of burnt incense still filled her nostrils, and in the back of her mind, she could see stalls collapsing underneath the assault of tall, hot flames. They - the candidates - had been herded back to the quarters and safety, but that hadn't stopped them all from fretting anxiously. Some, like Yesia, wailed dramatically over the woman they barely knew. Others, like Farideh, sat huddled on their bunks. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her arms hugging them tightly, and her chin was buried in the folds of the sheet draped over her lap. She had been working valiantly to staunch the flow of silent tears that wet her face, that each trekked in their watery paths down her cheeks to soak into her linen. Aishani's death had been easily attributed to natural disaster, and Teris' had been a fluke. Issedi's was tragic. But this? This was too much. What had she done? What was she thinking? Coming to this place where such events were commonplace? In that moment, Farideh had never before craved her mother's presence more. She wanted to throw herself into Anatolia's arms and weep, of her anxieties and her fears; of her confusion over why all these bad things kept happening. Except, things like that didn't happen at Igen. Not to that extent. And they certainly didn't expose their young, impressionable daughters to such tragedy and macabre. If she tried really hard, she thought she could smell her mother's cloying perfume. She could even imagine the way she swayed as she hummed, dancing between rooms, preparing for some auspicious occasion. And the way, when she was affectionate - which happened rarely if ever - that there was a certain light in her eyes that made her look twenty years younger, and a curve to her smile that was only for her youngest. It was those stolen moments that Farideh yearned for. To play the child, to let her mother encompass her in her arms, and dash away all the harsh realities of life. To lift the burden of adulthood off her daughter's slim, drooping shoulders. But she wouldn't. And she couldn't. So, she wept, until she couldn't cry anymore, and with dry, red-rimmed eyes, put herself to bed. |
Comments
Edyis (15:30, 9 April 2015 (EDT)) said...
Poor Farideh
Laine (18:04, 9 April 2015 (EDT)) said...
Sometimes, you just want a hug from your mom. :(
<3
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