Logs:What if I Fail?
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| RL Date: 15 November, 2015 |
| Who: Silva |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Late at night Silva's not quite as big a jerk. |
| Where: HRW: Weyrling Barracks |
| When: Day 13, Month 4, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Everyone was asleep, the other weyrlings on their couches, and even the shimmering blue form of Zaisyreth beside her. Everyone except for her. She couldn't sleep. Couldn't sleep for many nights running. Her mind whirled too much in the darkness for the true deepness of sleep to come. Not with Zaisyreth right there and featuring so high up in her mind. Not with the plague spreading and touching the weyr now. She'd never cared about the world around her, but now it was here. She couldn't shut it out. No one had ever... relied on her before. Not like Zaisyreth had to. True, he was eating now. But every day he got bigger, and someone let slip that if she let his hide get cracked he could get hurt going between. And not just hurt-hurt, but die-hurt. All it would take was missing one spot, and knowing Zaisyreth? He wouldn't say anything because he didn't want to bother her. What if they tried to fly and he couldn't carry her? Those wings - she reaches out to touch them gently - they didn't seem strong enough for flight. What if she failed her classes - it never did seem like she could do as well as Jocelyn, or any of the others for that matter. Someone was always telling her how she was doing something wrong. Zaisyreth was perfect, if they failed... it would be all her fault. What if she got sick and there wasn't anyone else to take care of him? What if all the teachers got sick and only then something went wrong and she didn't know what to do? What if.... what if... what if... countless scenarios whirl though her mind, each more dire and consequence filled then the one before them. And she didn't know how to stop them. The what-ifs built up in her chest until it almost feels like she's going to crack. Arms wrap about her legs and she muffles the sound of the tears that try to release the pressure into the cloth on her knees. Rocking slowly she tries to push away the what-ifs. When sounds of movement reach her ears she banishes the tears and pulls up the covers. But it doesn't go away. Even when she rises ridiculously early to erase all signs of her sorrow and carefully composes herself into a no-care pose like everyone expects, the pressure in her chest stays, just waiting for the moment of pause to spill outwards again. |
Comments
Squishy (10:30, 15 November 2015 (PST)) said...
I loved seeing this moment, heartbreaking but also seeing that slow shift in Silvia is wonderful.
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