Logs:Through His Eyes
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| RL Date: 7 September, 2008 |
| Who: Anvori |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Anvori finally comes to visit his sister along with the Tillekian tithe. This is how he views her. |
| Where: High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 9, Turn 17 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Satiet/Mentions |
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| He was not surprised when, as the tithe trains had rolled through the cavernous entrance into the Weyr, she had not come to greet him. But a lack of surprise and resigned understanding did not mean it hadn't somehow stung. There were myriad of memories when he had still cast off with his brothers of a thin, tiny creature who had bounced eagerly on the docks waiting, whose thin, tiny legs would kick off the ground with such force as to propel her into one of their arms; fish laden or no. Later, he recalled ruefully, it would be into the waiting arms of another, but that fancy had seemed short-lived. He walked slowly through the busy Weyr, incongruous in how it was so similar and so foreign compared to his upbringing. The eager, flirty smile of a passing girl failed to catch him by surprise this time, and in kind, there was a glitter in his eyes and an affable set to his lips for her and it pleased him to watch her laugh and scurry off after her friends. Beyond the chance flirtations brought on by his walk, the slim built man moved with purpose. Just because she had not come to greet him did not mean he was not expected, and the wry thought of how much the wrath of a little sister could cut keenly struck him with amusement. Long strides carried him through the corridors, opting for passage through the inner caverns then the bustle of the living cavern where he marveled at the complicated mix of scents, and then out into the cool autumn breeze of the bowl. From there, it was but a short walk up those steps, to the ledge and through a hallway to where she was, but in the entry of the living cavern, he paused, leaned against the side where the tunnel and bowl wall met, and lifted his hazel eyes to an occupied ledge. His mother had noted, the last time she had come to visit the Weyr, that she had not seemed well, his baby sister. That the haughty foibles of youth and an unshakeable pride, so amusing in a girl of twelve, had shifted and left her lost. Lady Satiet, they had called her. Lady Satiet, the others had mocked her, though not in her hearing, and despite knowing the tease was not so affectionate from her peers as it was from her family, she had accepted that particular mantle with a supercilious lift of her chin, that slanted cool gaze to the side, and a little crooked smile where you could never be sure if she was laughing at something her keen insight had sussed out about you or actually pleased. Lady, indeed. He had studied the lady Edeline on the long trek from the main Hold to the Weyr. And so he watched for a spell. Watched the sitting gold in her massiveness, attempting to adopt that keen sight of his sister, and imagined that he could see Teonath's desert hide rise and fall with the cadence of slumber. He pretended that he could see the ripple of her muscles when there was a shift and the absolute stillness of an expressive tail that constantly caught him off-guard. He made himself believe that in this large, strange creature was something of his sister, anything to make her more familiar. In staring, he could feel other thoughts and questions rise in his mind; his own holdbred lack of understanding and the limits of what his dragonless mind could fathom of such a bond. Harper tales and the Teaching Songs only go so far in instilling anything beyond rote memorization. How was she not well? It was harder to imagine her ill than to imagine how dragon's minds worked and in order to answer this question, he felt his feet move through the bowl bustle. Children ran past him yelling about the tithe, chased by their wearied nannies, and the general mood of the residents seemed cheered. Oh, how little they had seemed to hear of the rumors and gossip that plagued Tillek during his short stay. Up those stairs, through the common area, and to the first weyr on the left, he walked. The same complex combination of scents from the living cavern assaulted him first, and it was too easy to form an eager and pleased smile that she'd have dinner waiting for them. And then the delicate floral perfume overcame all as she kicked off the floor she was sitting on to hurl herself into his waiting arms. "Anvori!" "My lady," was his immediate tease. They'd have much to talk over tonight; he could already see it in her eyes, what their mother had spoken of, but that would not be the subject of conversation. There'd be talk of brandy, rotgut, and moonshine. There'd be mentions and reintroductions of her children to their uncle Anvori, who had, this time at least, come bearing presents. There'd be teases of how he failed at marriage and how she wasn't built for such a preposterous and hidebound notion. There'd be terse relations of the gossip of the Hold, and then there was their father, a subject he wasn't quite sure how to bring up, but it would be inevitable it should. Should, would, could, he reflected, three terms that didn't necessarily have to go hand in hand. But first, at least, there would be food. |
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