Logs:He'd Show Them
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| RL Date: 8 April, 2009 |
| Who: K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| Where: Woodcraft |
| When: Day 20, Month 5, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Ander was, without question, one of the most boring Harpers that ever lived. Somehow, even though he could, occasionally, write a novel worth reading, that was the extent of his ability to be interesting; in conversation, in every other part of his life, he was simply dull. So K'del dreaded those occasions when his brother called on him to provide transportation, an arrangement they'd come to in order to help K'del pay for Milani's turnday book. Even these six months later, there were still a few trips left in their agreement; soon, he hoped, soon he would be free from this. From spending time with Ander, and then having to hang around while his brother visited this person and that - all of them in ultimately dull, dull, dull kinds of places. "It's really quite fascinating, Kassie. They've developed a whole new grain of sandpaper, which produces a truly beautiful finish on the instruments. We're really very excited about it." It was almost summer, the last days of month five disappearing behind them, and the last place K'del wanted to be was hanging around with Ander, instead of enjoying the sunshine and heat, maybe swimming in the lake, drinking something refreshing on the Patio. But. Here he was. "Are you even listening?" The answer was no, but K'del turned his head back, smiling politely. "Of course, Ander. Can you be a little quicker this time? Got to get back before it's too late." "I'll take as long as I take. You'll be waiting for me?" Yes. He would be waiting. His nod seemed good enough an answer, and Ander climbed down, trotting off into the Hold. He doesn't even look like my brother K'del mused, watching him go with some relief. Waiting was boring - but not quite as boring as listening to a one-sided conversation about sandpaper. Straight hair, darker, not tall... maybe there's something in the chin, but that's about it. Shells, but he's lame. Can't even call me K'del! « Fly? » Cadejoth sounded hopeful; he didn't like the waiting any more than his rider. Mm, maybe in a bit. Going to go stretch my legs - go on without me for a while. He slung down to the ground, peeling off his jacket and stowing it away before heading off down the path. He wasn't really familiar with the Woodcraft, but it was a nice day, and the wander, he figured, would use up a bit of time. Trees shaded the path, and, briefly, he wondered if he might have been better off keeping his jacket with him - it was cool, beneath the trees, almost chilly. He was so deep in his own thoughts - his approaching turnday, changes in the wing, his upcoming gather excursion with Nakasha - that he completely failed to notice the presence of a group of teenagers in a clearing just ahead until he was right amongst them. The conversation halted; K'del faltered. They were apprentices - he could see that, instantly, from the knots on their shoulders. His knot was on his jacket; without it, he could've been anyone. So he hesitated, when, instantly, one of the older girls in the group - she must've been just a few turns older than he was, he supposed - demanded to know who he was. But. Honestly. "Name's K'del, from High Reaches." There was a pause; he could see from their faces that, on the whole, they were pretty impressed with this. "You're a /dragonrider/." It was awe. K'del felt instantly uncomfortable, their crowding faces considering him with that kind of interest. But he got it. They were apprentices, with turns, still, probably, before they had the kinds of freedom and opportunity he did. He was going to be seventeen, soon, and he was an adult - but they might well have been children, still. He supposed he didn't look much like the kind of dragonrider they might have anticipated: he supposed he looked too much like... well... /them/. And it made him feel really young, somehow, in a way that being one of the youngest candidates and weyrlings, and now riders, never had. Like a little boy, dressing up in his father's clothes. He'd probably be younger than most of the candidates, when Iovniath rose, he realised, half thinking as, patiently, if awkwardly, he answered the questions the group of apprentices posed to him. A good chunk of them, at least. Younger. But a bronzerider, fully trained, an adult in the eyes of the world. Right, then. So what if he was young? Still treated as an adult. Still an adult. And seventeen wasn't so very young, really. Just because he'd sorted himself out a life sooner than lots of other people! Nothing wrong with that. He'd show them. But he didn't linger long, with this group of Apprentices; he fended off the rest of their questions, and excused himself, spending the right of his long wait for his brother with Cadejoth, who always felt like home. |
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