Difference between revisions of "Logs:Her Call"

Seven days after the hatching feast, when both moons hung high in the otherwise clear midnight sky, two Igenites met in the Weyr's bowl. They were an inconspicuous pair: a red-haired bluerider and a skinny brunette out for a stroll in the moonlight; certainly not an uncommon occurrence for young people. Nothing about their existence was out of place, nothing that would set the gossips to wagging their tongues with undue might.

"'M sorry," A'ban sighed.

"No, it is not your fault." Farideh spoke plainly, without any of her usual attitude, as she walked beside the much bulkier bluerider. Her voice was light and clear, unaffected by the accent her companion seemed to bear with diligence.

"Could've ignored him. Idiot," he sighed again, but it sounded like he was calling himself the idiot, this time.

"A'ban," the laundress said softly, wrapping her arm snuggly around his arm so they were linked, "You are too soft-hearted to be so cruel. I know it."

"Mebbe," he responded, "or mebbe I'm just'n fool."

A smile curved the girl's mouth, edging into the gentleness of her eyes. "What does Wesrath says?"

"Wesrath," as he lifted his eyes skyward, or more likely to some unfathomable point in his head, "Says ta focus on going forward--" But before he could finish the sentence, Farideh was quick to cut him off, pressing her fingers into his sun-roughened skin. "Wesrath has always been an intelligent dragon. Looking forward is what you should do."

"Mm." And speaking of looking forward, their conversation naturally gravitated towards the subject they both agreed upon - home. "Ya heard anymore 'bout the shut down?"

"No." Farideh worried her lip, troubled eyes scanning the vacant path in front of them. "I was hoping you had."

A'ban snorted, keeping his strides short to match the much shorter laundress at his side. They walked in silence a few paces before he spoke again. "Last was bout them liftin the quarantine, but ya know how that goes. Could be far, far worse. Could all be a bunch of bullshit. Pardon." He ducked his head, shame-faced.

Farideh gave his arm a pat, trying to placate the timid bluerider. "I know. I thought about.. could you get to letter out? To my sister? Conventional methods will suffice it. I do not want you or Wesrath getting in the way of all that sickness."

"I could'n," A'ban mused, sliding Farideh a sideways glance. "Do ya think she'd tell ya the truth, anyway?"

For a long time, Farideh walked and was silent, without the faintest flicker of emotion belying her inner turmoil. Careful, cautious even: "I do not know, honestly. Right now." Better yet - "To Mishal, then. I know he would not lie." Beat. "About this."

"I wouldn't trust 'im." A'ban stopped to consider Farideh.

"You are not me. I am not you." Farideh was kind, but in the words was a subtle sting, a warning to back off of what was her jurisdiction to make. Her home. Her family. Her call. Not his.

A'ban cleared his throat and started walking again, Farideh right beside him. "M'kay, I'll do it."

"I knew I could count on you, A'ban," Farideh said quietly, allowing her head to slump over and rest on the bluerider's upper arm as they continued to stroll. They allowed their legs to carry them the rest of the way around the bowl, in simple silence. Just being together, being in each other's company and sharing the things they both held as familiar stirred up memories. Memories of waters bluer than the sky, and beautiful, shifting red sand - memories of 'home'.