Who Th'ero, Kiena, K'vir, Rayathess, Ru'ien
What This is a summary of vignette snippets across all my alts! Get a glimpse into their heads, following a very loose theme of 'relationships' in their many varied forms.
When Varied Seasons, Turn 2724
Where Various Rooms, Fort Weyr, Harper Hall and Xanadu Weyr

 


Another day rife with stalled negotiations, more frustrations to add to the general issues that routinely plague the Weyr. It is exhausting to the absolute core and Th'ero's dark mood persists throughout the daylight hours. Only long into the night can he finally leave the confines of his office, a ghost of a man so far withdrawn into his own head as he drifts more by habit along familiar paths. Home, to his weyr, to quiet but not empty. Kimmila is there, of course, as she always is; one step ahead. He settles beside her on their couch, across from the hearth, sinking heavily into the cushions. Nothing is said because nothing has to be. Their hands join together, just as they lean into one another in unspoken support. This is familiar, stable and unchanging over Turns of conflict and trial, of good days and bad, worse days. It always comes back to this and it anchors him, calms him, this steady, unfathomable and silent love.


He moves about this familiar space with distracted ease, setting this and that to right without so much as a second thought. K'vir has few of those to spare of late, but that is not surprising. Of late, he finds himself reminiscing more on his life, the changes Turns have brought (or lack thereof) and his family… ever expanding, but no less welcomed. He does his best not to linger on the more painful memories or ones still too fresh, too raw, to do more than glance across — he's learned now that some things are just fated to be. K'vir has just picked up the millionth article of children's clothing (don't even get him started on the toys), when Zekath informs him rather dryly amused that he's been tipped off on Risali's whereabouts. His brows furrow, as he casts about to seek out what damnable hour of the night it is. There is more to report, however and when the bronze tips off one particular name, there is only one word on K'vir's lips. "… fuck." Long suffering sigh, but as much as his nerves grate and the urge for a more temper-fuelled reaction (he wanted to SLEEP, damn it!), he wouldn't change it for the world. Items in hand are hastily set aside, while he grabs his jacket and stomps into his boots. The nights are cold now, but it won't deter him from "collecting" his weyrmate and love and send a would-be (loveable) idiot cousin of his home before a complete disaster struck.


How long has she settled here, in the depths of this backwater wilderness — or at least the closest she could attain. She works as independently as one can, when a rider and Crafter both but Kiena's never been one to strictly follow anyone's rules but her own. She is at her modest forge now, honing away at the edge of the newest blade commissioned of her — a task almost ingrained to instinct now, as her mind wanders without risk. The first time Ujinath had felt the green's mind had startled them both; it took repeated tries, but there has been silence since from Kihatsuth when he'd stood his ground in silence yet again. Kiena could only hope Ru'ien would respect that too — he had before, so she had suspicions the green had been acting upon her own motives. She does her best not to think too long on her son. There is much she tries to forget, even when it haunts her later in fitful dreams and long, empty nights. She'd made a choice, in what felt so long ago now and this time? This time, she refused to feel regret for it. No matter how heavily it weighed on her, how it turned her so incredibly bitter to the world, she would not turn from the path on which she set herself. She cannot undo the past or the hurt it caused to all those she ever loved or cared for. All Kiena can do is hope that, in time, it leads to some forgiveness.


Late hour saw his eventual return to his private study and room, the majority of the Hall residence already well abed and asleep. Rayathess' brows are furrowed heavily as he mulls over the recent crop of Apprentices and his bitter assessment already casts half of them as not having a lick of sense between them. Briefly his thoughts stray, recalling how Tyani would scold him at times like these of being too cynical and too harsh in his evaluations — he chose to disagree, even with the memory of her. It brought a fleeting thought of his now grown daughter and all that followed that was quickly dismissed. That was behind him now, just another chapter to the long, extensive story of his life. It was for the best and only counts himself lucky that it ended amicably. He will chide himself later for his unfocused awareness, when he finally catches a glimpse of something on his desk as he approaches; he'd intended to go further in the room, but what would be an item unseen by all others, stood out sorely to him. A bland item, an invisible one, a token to him bearing unwritten messages within unwritten code. It is nothing and yet everything and with a click of his tongue, Rayathess promptly slips it into his hand and then to one of his more reliable firelizards. Damn the timing of his informants and thrice be damned this political unrest! Sitting himself behind his desk, he will play the part of doing nothing more than the Harper Hall's work — and he will wait.


Word of mouth can be the best source of gossipy news — or a lead. Ru'ien can't remember where he'd overheard this tidbit but in his current state of proddiness, the sheer implication that such a thing, such a PLACE, existed was too much to resist! He'd time to spare, after all and the day spent mostly languishing in frustration as his sleep deprived mind and unrelenting restlessness made focusing for long difficult. With Kihatsuth's time drawing closer, he'd been pulled from much of his training — for everyone's benefit, really. So when it came to his attention that there was potential nightly entertainment of the "unusual" sort, well… who was he to pass that up? Ru'ien would not regret his decision either, when he eventually found the place in question. He was hooked even before he was entirely through the threshold, the heavy beat of drums and more primal rhythm of music here was perfect. Never one to dance before, he took to it like a fish to water and for the first time in days, Ru'ien could lose himself without consequence. He moved in tandem with the others and other times to his own. Faces blurred in the dim glowlights, but this was no place for lingering on whether or not one was familiar. That, at least, will be his excuse for how it came to be that among all those present there, he happened to fall in step with Risali. He will not, however, apologize for what transpired next or to what level of scandalous dancing they achieved before their mutually sought freedom and fun was put to an abrupt end by an interloper by the name of K'vir. Ru'ien had quipped something at the time, which had earned him a good shove to the middle of his back from the bronzerider and an earnest request that he 'Go Home'. Surprisingly, he did just that without a second thought and chose instead to inflict himself upon one of the few who will tolerate his behavior in large doses — never mind the hour.


Add a New Comment