Logs:Satiet
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| RL Date: 23 March, 2009 |
| Who: A'son |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| Where: A'son's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 4, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: N'thei/Mentions, Satiet/Mentions |
| Dawn was only a few hours away and the lingering night found A'son straddling one of the frilly chairs in his weyr. The canteen in his hand was empty and he wasn't quite yet feeling the buzz of the liquor in his system. He turned it over and idly traced the leather stitching on the sides. "So much for getting on that wagon." He laughed derisively and tossed the half empty container away from him. It landed by the kicked over bucket of paint from the other night, a mess he still hadn't cleaned up. He had been asleep for most of the night. He usually slept like a log, nothing could wake him once he was out and under. A'son heard him moving first, rousing from his sleep. Then he heard the keen from all around the weyr and finally when his bronze was fully up, the rumbling thunderous boom that was Nikoth expressing his grief. « They're gone. They left us. » The feelings of grief emanated almost overwhelmingly from him. Struggling to his feet, he stumbled over to the ledge feeling that booze in him now that he was actually moving. He leaned against the wall, surveying the other ledges around his and Nikoth's. He heard the keening from all directions and he shut his eyes. « Are we going to go? » A fuzzy image of Wyaeth and N'thei was sent to him, his way of asking. « No. We'll go later. He needs some time. » Uncertainty hedged around his thoughts. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He didn't think N'thei would want him swooping down into his weyr at such a painfully private moment. « In the morning. » He added. Later... The first day with Satiet gone had been rough. There were many tearful eyes and others seeming lost. Weyrs often took the sudden death of one of their Weyrwomen hard. He'd received a note earlier from one of the messengers. But in his haste, he'd merely shoved it in his pocket and neglected to look at it. Now there was time. He pulled it out, accidentally ripping one of the corners. Frowning, he held both of the ends together, reading the fine handwriting. Take care of him for me. Thanks for coming back. Your timing, as always, is impeccable. He immediately crumbled it. Then uncrumbled it and read it again. He felt a mix of emotions and then he sat down in the chair from the night before and cried. "Good-bye." |
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