Contest 3 -- Story Time!

[Administrator]

Contest 3 -- Story Time!

All characters have a past. Whether it's icky or happy, pasts are what make a character who they are. So, it's your job to write a story about that! However, it isn't just any past; it's their childhood. Childhood, as in, under the age of 10 turns. So, pick a charrie and just tell a story from their childhood! For each charrie you do, you get an automatic 3 marks! Yes, you can do more than one. No specific plot needed, just share a special moment about childhood. But wait, it's a contest! So of course there will be competition! So, I will be giving a whopping 7 marks to whoever wins! :3

Scoring

These stories will be voted for in a poll that I will add at the deadline. Each person gets one vote. You may use it on yourself if you want, though it is discouraged. Choose the story that is the most creative, well-written, exciting, etc. If you want to be left out of the voting process for whatever reason, just let me know. You'll still get the 3 marks per charrie. However, whoever gets the most votes wins the 7 marks!

Rules

1. No plagiarism, but that's an easy one.
2. They must not be under 750 words.
3. No messing around with Weyr history. Make sure it is canon to Selenitas.
4. The stories are only about your charries' childhoods, so only 10 and under for the stories.
5. Keep it tasteful. These will be publicly displayed.
6. When you write it, post it in this thread.
7. Remember to have a title!
8. No WIPs allowed on this thread.

Deadline

May 1, 2008

Prize

For each charrie you write about, you get 3 marks.
For the winner of the voting contest, you get 7 marks.

Ready, set, write!

[neeuqtar]

Enjoy how entirely creepy Uu'n past is! 83

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Drip… plip… drip-plip… The sound of slowly seeping water echoed through the old mine shafts, repetitive plinks in interlacing rhythms that sent perfect ripples across the otherwise smooth water that filled the abandoned shaft, a black pool of endless depth, stained with the coal that had not been gouged from the mother rock; slow forces that wore away stone and built new, making a mysterious world of earth and water that humans fled from since the death of one of their own in the black fathoms of the pool. Phosphorescent fungus, brought deep within the mine for the workers, clung to crevices and peeked from cracks, the furls of pale-glowing yellow casting a pallor across the slick rock and the tiny creatures which scurried, undisturbed.

There was no such thing as silence; only the tiniest sounds, of claws on rock, water and mud, the dull slosh of a tunnelsnake slipping into the coal-black water. Two spiders, spindly legs stretching and probing along the rippled wall of a stilled waterfall, soft white bodies trembling with motion and occasionally touching the stickiness of the muddied rock, met, fine legs tangling and dancing as they fought in eerie silence. No great battle-cries rang out, no dragons bellowed the fight. Only the plip of water and ravenous fangs, as one found the soft body of the other with venom and death.

Into such a world came a boy.

As pale as the creatures of the cave, bleached by darkness and unused to sunlight, the skinny boy slipped into the world of water and silence. Bruises and coal-dust marred his skin, rough calluses and the burn-marks of ropes showed the mark of the trade he had been born too. His expression was harried; fresh blood ran down a face pale from fright and darkness, it stained his hands and a torn shirt. Loud jeers rang through the caves, echoing and ringing in a parody of boy’s voices. Scrambling, the boy slipped on water-worn rock, falling hard against the stone waterfall. He cried out, and the sounds of pursuers increased in vigor and bloodthirsty shouts.

The fangs of a spider twitched against his shoulder before life slipped away, fragile white crushed against the stone with more finality than venom and pain, delicate legs crumpled and torn.

Another boy wrenched his way into the quiet cavern, his black hair a contrast to the silver-blond of his prey. Blue eyes, chips of ice-blue, caught sight of the cringing form of the smaller boy, and a cruel smile spread across his face. The other scooted backwards, the look on his face one of pure terror. He held his shoulder and struggled to his feet on the slick stone as two other boys appeared, responding to a call from the black-haired boy. Their faces held malicious expressions; the clearly broken nose of one had been a gift from the pale boy—it was his blood on the prey’s hand.

The ice-eyed boy spat to the side, and stepped forward. His pale prey—harried, injured, smaller—glared and spat in his hunter’s face. With a snarl of rage, the bigger boy attacked, ramming his fist into the pale boy’s stomach as one of his packmates tackled him. The third grabbed a fistful of blond hair, ripping the small boy’s head back as he screamed, the other two twisting his arms back. There were no words, only grunts and yells and the dull thud of body against body. The pale boy tried to wrench free, to no avail; with the cold fury of a spider he sank his teeth into the neck of one of his assailants, drawing blood. A fierce blow against his face ripped him free, blood running down his face as the other boy reeled back, grabbing his neck in pain and fear.

Killing light in their eyes, the other two showed no mercy to the pale boy, stained crimson with blood both his and not, their fists and feet meting out brutal punishment for the crime of being a miner’s brat, so far below their exalted rank as minecrafter apprentices. The ice-eyed boy grabbed the pale boy by his neck, shoving him down into the coal-dark water, keeping him under the water with a sadistic snicker as the young boy strove to be free. He held him there until the other ceased even twitching, then yanked him out. Black water ran in runnels down the pale skin, staining him gray. The prey’s mouth lolled open, the dark water pouring from him.

The boy shuddered, and vomited pitch onto the ground as the two attackers flung him to the ground, leaving their prey battered and choking on the slick stone floor. With sneers and laughs, they took their injured compatriot and left the near-dead form of the boy they named a monster sprawled on the floor, stained with blood and coal. Dark eyes watched them leave, expressionless as rounds of stone, and the pale boy wiped blood and water from his mouth before slowly regaining his feet and limping off, taking any route but that of his assailants.

In the old tunnel, the attenuated survivors of the violence crept from beneath their stones, pale forms scurrying to the spill of blood upon the floor, all else forgotten in the sips of the congealing crimson left behind. The water stilled, the only ripples across the smooth surface from the eternal pattern of drips, leaving a momentary splash of gray before the dark waters swallowed.

In three days, all would be as it had been, save for the memory of a pale boy and the death of a soft, small spider.

[randi]

Hope Reborn
(Kinam/K'nam)

The night was cold and he alone. A chill swept through their home, unable to be kept out even though many warm bodies slept within the walls. He was alone, awake, his dark eyes narrowed as he stared into the darkness. A single trace of warmth trickled from a cut above his right eyebrow, which pressed down, deep in thought. Pain shot through his head, but, try as he may, he could not feel sorry for himself. All he felt was the pain and horror when his father had backhanded him before vanishing, his jagged fingernail tearing into his skin before sweeping Kinam’s mother back to a life where she would not be with her children, who had, in eagerness early that morning, crowded around her like puppies, begging for praise, for love.

He didn’t wipe the blood away but instead sat still. When he heard someone stirring, his head jerked, cool fingers brushing at the blood as a glow lit up the room. If Kinam was the provider, the father, then Naviri was the gentle backbone, the mother. She looked out for everyone, her eyes always filled with concern for someone’s scraped knee or some other menial thing. She deserved better, but he couldn’t keep himself from hissing slightly at the unwanted contact. He’d had enough of togetherness and love, at least for a month or two.

He had really believed she’d change. He always believed her when she showed up on their doorstep, and her own children would crowd around her as if she were a goddess sent to save them. Kinam trusted her, and yet she always left. Even if his father didn’t come for her, she’d leave him behind, to despise them both until she returned, when the entire dance would begin again. It was a curse. He always trusted his mother.

Naviri said nothing to discourage his anti-social hiss, but continued to tend to his eyebrow, kissing it gently once she had cleaned it up. Sitting beside him, she closed her eyes, weary as well. Their mother’s visits always hit everyone hard, though none other than Kinam completely trusted her every single time. Nestled beside him, Naviri allowed a whine to escape her. It was pitiful, pent up sadness escape in one contained scream. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close, allowing her to cry into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. It was his fault. He was the protector, the most adult child, and yet, when it came to their mom, he could never turn her away. Against her, he was as defenseless as if she were a full grown dragon, as pathetic as a sapling in a storm.

“Not your fault,” Naviri whispered back, causing a few of the bodies in the room to stir, bemoaning their fading sleep. The pair sat in silence for a few moments as the others settled down, their eyes diverted as they separated. When all was silent again, Naviri chanced talking aloud, her voice meek, careful. “Did he hurt you too bad?”

“No,” he allowed his fingers to trace the cut, a small hiss of pain drawing in through his teeth as the wound burned. Tears soon threatened his gaze, the bodies in the dark dancing through his vision as he closed his eyes. He felt the hot tears sear the chill as they fell, and he tried not to let her see. Kinam was too weak, too young to take the role that had become his, and it was never more obvious than after she came and left. If Naviri saw him cry, she said nothing, though when he chanced a peek, her head was turned from him as well. They were the leaders, the heads of the family, and seeing one another weakened meant admitting that they were too young for this. They had been offered by several kinder families to move into their midst, but accepting those offers meant giving up hope on being a regular family. Even when his siblings wished to be under someone else’s wing, Kinam was too prideful to let the hope go, no matter how much that pride and hope ended up hurting all of them in the end.

He was so selfish, and the feeling of uselessness arose on him. He wasn’t an adult, he had just Turned eight! How was he supposed to do this? Sniffling slightly, he wiped his tears on the back of his hand. He had to be strong. For all of them, he couldn’t let himself be overwhelmed. Naviri stood beside him, offering her hand. “Come on, Kee, get to bed.” She rarely ordered him to do anything, and this made him curious and a little bit angry. She just didn’t understand… “Kee, please.”

That was something new. When he lifted his eyes to hers, he found himself seeing despair, anger, and more self-loathing than he felt in himself. She needed him, and that thought made him more tired than anything. No matter how much he wanted to be left alone, to give up, other people needed him. Truth be told, he needed them too. It might not be a perfect system, but for the child more adult than most men, it would have to work, not just for him, but for all of them. He took her hand and pulled himself up, tugging her to him to embrace her tightly. He was her support and she was his. In truth, that was all either of them needed.

[randi]

Seizure Inducing Mine Monsters
(Oraru)

“Ora, darling, wake up.” He felt her cool fingers running through his hair as her voice reached his ears. For a moment she stopped, admiring the shade of red in his hair as he blearily woke. A brown eye opened, spotting his loving mother. He delighted in her company, in her protection from his insufferable older brother. “Ora?”

“I’m awake, mother,” he insisted. He was almost ready to Turn ten, she needed to quit treating him like her was such a child. Leaning up, Oraru stretched his arms out, glancing at the blue firelizard asleep at the foot of his bed. Breeze was such a lazy beggar, he noted, nudging the slumbering flitter with his foot. As the creature stirred, his mother began talking, and Oraru ran her words through a filter. She was going on about something, as she was wont to do, and it was only at the mention of his father that he actually began listening.

“-and he thinks that it’s high time you try. I can’t understand why he insists on rushing you, darling, you’re not ready for this.” Oraru felt a fire suddenly expand in his small chest. His father wanted him to do something instead of that brother of his! Him! With pride he began to dress, messing up his hair. The world went blurry for a moment and he fixed the locks to cover up his bad eye. Anything but that sharding patch. Thinking a curse word made the boy feel older, more mature, and a little bubbly inside. He resisted the urge to giggle as he half ran out the door. It was mine time!

Breeze appeared over him as he skidded to a halt, peering up at his towering father. The firelizard settled on his shoulder as the man spoke. “It’s time you went into the mine.” His voice was low, commanding. It almost threatened him to prove himself unworthy of his approval, well, Oraru would show him! When his father gave a small glare at Breeze, the boy shooed him away with an image of his mother. Let him harass her for the day. Oraru was going to be proving something; he didn’t need the chubby firelizard weighing him down.

His father handed him equipment, which was overly large on the boy, but he didn’t protest in the least. This was his moment. When his father started looking behind him, Oraru turned to spot Swithin a small ways off. He beamed smugly before turning to his father, waiting for the word. His back was held straight his head held high. His imagination, overly active, saw all the holders staring at him, agape that such a small boy could face this sort of thing without fear, as their own sons had. They were amazed at him, as well they should be. With a cocky grin he waited for his father’s signal, ready to show all of them the best sharding miner they’d ever seen. Once again, he felt the bubbly feeling inside, but he ignored it. He was a man now, and giggles were for boys, like Swithin!

His father turned wordlessly into the mine, Oraru following just behind, being sure to kick a small bit of dirt defiantly behind him at the weaker miners. The darkness swallowed them. Of course, with a few men heartily talking, a few coughing, and the ringing of pickaxes in the dark, it was hard to be afraid of anything. The glows were bright on his face, lighting up a world he expected to be incredibly dark.

As he walked behind his father, he noticed a few people here and there would talk to him, but his father resisted replying. He wasn’t a social man, or at least Oraru had never seen otherwise. They moved farther away from the crowd, working on their own. He didn’t bother to explain much: only that Oraru was not to hit the supports, which Oraru nodded enthusiastically at and set himself to working at. However, no sooner than his father had seen that Oraru was doing well that he cast the boy out from under his wing. “Stay here,” he hissed and left.

Oraru’s imagination uncurled from its depths. He was alone in the mine: a one man show. No one else was needed in the mine, because Oraru had everything under control. He swung his pick at the side of the wall with full strength, and heard the loud crack. Of course, he felt the handle slide from his fingers as the world slowed to a crawl, pure black dust caking the mostly-clean boy.

The monster had him. The boy flailed his arms, the dirt fusing with his skin as it attempted to take hold. He attempted to scream, but the gritty taste filled his mouth. The glow around him dimmed, more creatures from the darkness engulfing him. Shadow monsters hit him, causing him to fall. His hand landed on the pick and he swung, connecting with something VERY solid. In triumph, he managed a yell of victory, the sound echoing off the walls as the glows returned to light. He had about two second to realize that he had hit the support in his frantic near-epileptic seizure, or what would have appeared to have been such had anyone been watching.

He leapt with surprising agility as far away from the beam as he could. He barely heard the crash. As soon as he landed, he picked himself up and discovered something new. When he was retreating after a successful triumph, he could run. The maze of the mine hardly affected him as he fled, a completely black child, from the Hyphen Hold mine. He found his mother within ten minutes and fled into her skirts, as frightened as a three year old who had angered their older sibling. Even Breeze wouldn’t land near him for days after the scolding he got for causing a minor cave-in.

Needless to say, father didn't want Oraru in the mines again.

[ryanne]

Youthful Questions

“Momma, why am I the only one with no daddy?” Liassa asked, peering up at her mother with a tear dripping from her eye. The small girl was only six turns at she was obviously upset. Her mother barely looked down from the counter where she was chopping star fruit, but something in her daughter’s voice and in the girl’s question warranted her to look again, actually taking the time to take in her daughter’s appearance this time.

“Oh dear,” the older woman murmured, catching the unshed tears that still harbored themselves in her baby’s hazel eyes. “Yessil, I’m going to need a few moments with my daughter. I’ll be back before dinner comes around,” she called out to her older counterpart while she took Liassa’s small hand in her own. “Come with me, love, I’ll explain.”

“The trader girl said that there was nothing to explain. She said that you would tell me that I was just a mistake and that you were a,” she searched for the word for a moment, a piece of vocabulary that was foreign to her young tongue, “ore. What’s an ore?”

Arimia sighed softly, hating that she was having to explain everything to her young daughter so soon. The woman knew that it was generally acceptable for weyrwomen to have babies without having a husband, but many still weren’t okay with that idea. The traders always mocked their way of life and a lot of children got into fights with them. It did not give the weyr a good reputation, but also didn’t allow for the weyrbrats to have a proper innocent childhood. Arimia had seen too many women have to sit down with their young children and explain everything that shouldn’t have to be explained for turns to come. She had been lucky she could hold off this talk for so long.

“Momma?” Liassa asked, peering up at her mother with a confused look in her eye.

“Yes, hun, I’m going to answer, just let’s find a good place to talk.”

“Outside!” the brunette prompted, beginning to pull her mother along behind her. The little kid loved being outside in the sun. If given a choice, she would probably sleep outside if the sun stayed out all night.

Arimia laughed softly, though the thought of the pending conversation kept the laughter from reaching her eyes. She allowed her daughter to drag her along all the way out to the nearest patch of sunshine.

“Okay, love, you know that I’m your mother. But there has to be a mother and a father if a woman wants a baby. You have a father, but he doesn’t live here. Some people don’t think that’s right.”

“Why not?” Her eyes were wide and innocent, the tears were fully dried.

“Because some people think that everyone who has a baby should get married, like Yessil and Piercal. Otherwise, they don’t think that the baby is okay.”

“So I’m not okay?”

“No, you’re just fine. They’re wrong. That’s why that trader girl said those things because she was wrong. You do have a daddy, he just doesn’t live with us. You don’t need him and I don’t need him. We’re both stronger than that.”

“Will I ever get to meet my daddy?”

Now that question hurt. Truth be told, Arimia didn’t even know where her father was. It had been turns since she’d seen him and she had no plans to see him anytime soon. He was just an attractive trader that passed through and happened to catch her fancy. It didn’t make her loose or a whore, just an opportunist. She was young and she was having fun, it wasn’t a bad thing. After all, she got Liassa out of it, the little one was the best thing that ever happened to her.

“No, I don’t think so. He lives far far away.” Liassa’s eyes grew wide again as she heard her mother. She was not fond of the idea of not meeting her father. If everyone else got to meet their father, why shouldn’t she get to?

“But I want to!” she whined, pulling on her mother’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, but he lives so far away. You’d have to walk for days and days and days to go see him. I don’t even get to see him in turns.”

Liassa was flightly enough to move on with that explanation. She still had other questions.

“What’s a ore?”

Shards, how did you explain that to a six turn old?

“Momma?”

“It’s when a woman is too good of friends with too many men.”

“How can you be too good of friends with anyone?”

“By spending too much time with them and rejecting your other friends for them. It’s not nice to your other friends so it’s bad.”

Liassa nodded, still not really understanding. But, as much as she liked to find the answers to her questions, she could tell that her mother was anxious. She also didn’t like looking like she didn’t understand more than she didn’t like actually not understanding.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes Momma.”

“Okay, well, go back to playing. I need to get back to work. If you see that little trader girl, make sure that she doesn’t go back to her mother without a bloodied nose.”

“Why?”

“Momma was just kidding, run along now.”

“Yes Momma.”

Liassa did run into the trader girl again and the little girl did go running to her mother and her father with a bloodied nose. And the fact that she had both a mother and a father didn’t help it heal any faster.

[mangotango]

A Mother's Love

Theo woke easily, passing almost without distinction from deep slumber to wide alertness. Part of this was because he had been dreaming of traveling in the wagon, and he actually was, but also because his mother had sat on his arm. Such unpleasantness was normally more then enough to bring someone to consciousness.

“Mother!” He pulled away, flexing his wrist and wincing as the stiff, rough fabric rubbed his skin. It would sting for a day or more, now!

Serasis glanced back, and winced. “Sorry, honey. Mother’s just very… tired tonight.” With a sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of her soul, she returned to pulling off her shoes and loosening the rest of her clothing. She didn’t have many things, and would have to wear the skirt and blouse until they next stopped at a river or lake where she could wash them.

Theocrasis’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light inside the slowly moving wagon. It was the middle of the night now, and on full moons nights like tonight the group would move forward across the level ground. Save time and keep their reputation as the fastest Trader’s Caravan on the Northern Continent. He’d been set to bed right after sunset, himself, while the group had rested. It was much too late for his mother to just be getting to bed. The look he gave her was full of pity. Some would say he knew too much of the ways of the world: his grandfather, and his “uncle” Harpers said it was best to face reality for what it was. Even at eight turns old, Theo knew that if his mother didn’t come to bed before the middle of the night, it meant she’d been spending time in someone elses’. Probably one of his uncles’, though he’d never been able to catch them at it, and the suspicions remained unproven. He didn’t like his uncles all that much, actually. They tried to teach him a lot of things he couldn’t grasp, and were angry when he failed. It was natural to develop a certain distaste for them.

“You said you’d be right in, Mother.” His voice was accusatory, and directly at odds with the pity still in his eyes.

Serasis flinched, and turned slowly to face her son. She couldn’t make him understand. He already understood too much: let him have that one side of the story. She wouldn’t hurt him by making him bare her burden too. He was too young for this. She reached out, smoothing his hair back from his face. Her poor baby.

“I’m sorry, love. Truly sorry. I’ll be in sooner tomorrow.” She promised, and slipped around to lie on the bed beside her son. There wasn’t a lot of room in the small wagon that was their home, but there was room enough to make him a place to sleep of his own. Her unwillingness to do this stemmed from the fact that she didn’t care to give up her baby. “I love you.” The words came out as a soft sigh as she lay back, head pillowed under one arm. Never a beautiful woman, the passed eight Turns had aged her more then they should have, leaving her with dark patches and loose skin around her eyes, and a few stray grey hairs mixed in with her sandy locks. She was still lacking her thirty-fifth turn, but looked at least ten turns older. It hadn’t seemed to bother then men who hounded her to get her into their beds- not enough for them to stop, anyway, though they certainly let her know she wasn’t what she used to be.

Theocrasis lay back down, staring at the curved hide ceiling of the tent. A herdbeast snorted in the distance, unhappy with having to walk at night. The silence stretched between them until Serasis could take it no more.

“Theo?” There was pleading in her voice that she didn’t bother to disguise.

He tried to resist, but she was his mother. Here, in the wagon and at night, he could say it aloud. “Love you too, Mother.”

“There’s a good boy, Theo.” She purred, and wrapped her arms around him. He rolled into the embrace, face pressed to her chest. She smelled like sweat and men, and the perfume she’d put on early that morning had faded and mixed into them, leaving a wilted, melancholy aspect to the floral paste.

Eyes squeezed shut, Theo tried to get back to sleep in his mother’s clutching embrace.

[Administrator]

The Blue Dress
Shmee

Shmee held up a bright blue sundress against her small body, admiring her beautiful reflection in the mirror. She twirled around, watching the soft fabric flutter against her milky white knees. “How much is it, mister?” she asked thoughtfully, now twirling the other way. It would look perfect on her.

The vendor chuckled to himself. A girl of six turns was always sweet, and this one especially captured his attention. She was charismatic and charming with long, raven-black hair swinging in a plait down her back, and her vivid blue eyes watched him boldly. It was a look of determination, one so sweet, yet he had marks to earn, and he wasn’t going to get away with making him barter too low.

“Well,” he replied, meeting her blue eyes solidly, “a dress of that beautiful a color is normally two marks, but since it matches your eyes…” A glimmer of excitement shone through those very same eyes. “…I’d be more than happy to let it go for only one and three-quarters a mark.” Shmee pondered this for a moment. Glancing at her reflection again, she found herself longing for this dress—badly. Even he could see that it matched her eyes! It truly did bring out the vibrant blue…

“Mommy!” she called, looking across the gather at Blossom Hold for her mother’s tall, willowy figure. A woman looked up with a frown from the wine stall. Though her eyes were a darker color, the hair was identical to Shmee’s. In her fine-boned hand was a bottle of Blossom wine, obviously expensive, and obviously hers.

“Did you find something you like, Shmee?” she called back, striding over to the Weaving Stall.

“Look at it!” Shmee exclaimed, dramatically waving the dress she held. Then, she twirled to demonstrate how fine it was and how easily it touched her knees. “It brings out the color of my eyes, too!” she added primly.

Her mother laughed musically. “Indeed it does, my little Shmee!” she agreed wholeheartedly. Her small daughter truly did look like a ravishing beauty with the dress held against her. “How much?” she said to the vendor.

“Two marks.”

“What?!” demanded Shmee haughtily. Slowly, her lower lip protruded from her mouth and she looked up at the man, her eyes hurt at the betrayal. “But…” she began, her voice quivering, “you told me only one and three-quarters marks because it matches my eyes…” She sniffed, and her blue eyes began swimming with the water that welled up behind them.

Unhappy at being the source of this little girl’s sorrow, he hastily amended that statement. “Erm, yes, one and three-quarters.” Shmee’s mother beamed. “One mark!” she countered. Shmee, her job complete, began to watch the bartering avidly for a few minutes, after which she became bored. Such matters were so uninteresting. It wouldn’t be interesting at all, actually, until she got what she wanted. Looking around at the other stalls, she looked upon the people with her innocent gaze. People of all sorts came to the gather—holders, craftsmen, holdfolk… and dragonriders.

A quick glimmer of gold caught her eye. Attracted to the shiny right away, Shmee stared across the gather square at a gorgeous golden flitter. She had never seen one, and she sighed dreamily at it. The small queen sat upon the shoulder of a woman with elaborate knots, a kind Shmee had never seen before. The woman was looking at the wine in the Food Stall, looking at Benden white. She was undoubtedly rich. A girl about Shmee’s age was at her side, dressed richly. Immediately, Shmee was jealous. Why didn’t she get such pretty clothes? She had a few, but never of such a golden color… no matter. This girl had boring brown eyes. She would never get a pretty dress that matched it as well as her own dress would.

She looked back at the golden flitter, wanting it more badly than she had wanted anything else. Oh, how she wanted a queen flitter for her own! They were so shiny and pretty… She knew her ballads well enough to know that she could never ride one of Selenitas’ queen dragons, but a queen flitter would certainly do. That would show the world that she would grow up to be the best girl on Pern! She smirked. Even the old Weyrwoman could never be as good as she was.

“Sold!” The vendor’s words brought Shmee’s attention back to her blue dress. She looked up eagerly, not worrying about the queen flitter for now. All smiles as her mother handed the marks over, Shmee clutched the dress to herself.

“Oh, thank you, Mommy!” she giggled, rushing up to hug her mother dramatically. Her mother chuckled.

“Anything for my little Shmee,” the woman cooed. Shmee smiled angelically. She loved getting what she wanted. Which reminded her…

“Mommy, could I have a queen flitter someday?” she asked eagerly. Her mother blinked in surprise, startled at the sudden question. But she was unfazed. She was used to such bold questions from her daughter.

“We’ll see, we’ll see,” she replied in a sing-song voice. Shmee smiled as she skipped away from her mother to change into her beautiful blue dress. She was determined to have a queen of her own someday.

[irbre]

Dreaming of Lies
Tenmor

The day was warm and bright, the sun high in the sky, a soft, warm breeze rippling across the fields. Herdbeasts grazed placidly, moving reluctantly, shifting to a different position only when they needed more food or water. A familial trio was tending to the single herd, though it was more likely that the adults were doing the tending, for one of their number was far too young to do much. That little boy was chasing the calves around, flapping his arms and earning dark looks that promised ill deeds from the mothers of said calves. After a good long while of doing this, he had finally abandoned his chasing and sat in the middle of the field, weaving the grass into strange shapes.

The older man smiled at his wife, affection plain on his face. Their son was growing swiftly and well, and he apparently had a good set of morals about him, for the grass he was weaving wasn't in quite random shapes. Instead he was twining the separate strands into a single large mass, which resembled a pair of draconic wings, and was doing surprising well with the whole project. Mother and father watched with warm smiles as the little boy finally stood up, running at his awkward, chubby little-boy-pace towards the nearest calf. After a few moments of circling the bleating thing, he somehow managed to scramble on top of it, securing the wings on its back and giggling in a high, joy-filled voice.

A sudden cry of bestial pain broke through the giggling of the little boy and the soft noises of the herdbeasts. The woman stirred, rising slowly and sighing. It was always work, even if they did it willingly and without complaint. The worst part was dealing with injured herdbeasts, as the day required now. Her husband stood, moving to help her before she brushed his assistance aside with a gesture. She was perfectly capable of dealing with such an occurrence on her own, after all.

A sudden shadow eclipsed the sky, wide wings blotting out the sun. A massive, glittering form descended as if from the heavens itself, dropping lower and lower slowly as herdbeasts fled bleating and screaming before it. A single one remained, fallen on its side in the center of herd, the woman walking over to kneel next to it. She looked up, brushing her hair back and smiling welcomingly at whoever it was that approached. The dragon was easily large enough to be a bronze, and as it came closer to the ground the metallic gleam of the hide was revealed. A figure on the back waved, though it was not as friendly as the motion could have been. The boy’s father frowned, starting forward when a squeal of excitement interrupted him.

The chubby little boy had tumbled off the side of his "dragon" in eagerness, pulling the woven grass wings with him in the process. He was on his feet in a flash, running over to his father to pluck at the man's pant legs, blue eyes wide, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. His father put a restraining hand on the boy's head, still watching his wife and the dragonrider some distance away. His wife had risen to her feet gracefully and was listening to the bronzerider intently, though her rigid posture betrayed her outward appearance of calm. The rider was pointing emphatically at the injured herdbeast lying on the ground, and the faint voices were slowly, yet steadily, getting louder.

"Tenmor, son," the man said, suddenly turning to look down at his child, smiling wanly, "Why don't you go find that little calf that ran away? I'm sure the rider would very much want to see it." Tenmor's eyes widened further to the size of saucers, his little mouth opening into an 'O' of wonder. His father gave him a soft nudge with his foot, but it was unnecessary, for Tenmor was already scrambling away, back up through the bushes, moving as swiftly as he possibly could. And why not? This was a dragon rider, after all, and he wanted to be just like the bronzerider out there, with a big dragon who could save people. He would do anything to gain recognition from the powerful, ranking man, even if it meant leaving his family even for a few moments. He would see his mother and father soon again, he knew. His mother would make them supper, something simple and delicious, always healthy for a growing young man, and his father would plunk him down on his lap to tell him tales of wonder and joy. They would never leave him. Never.

[randi]

Heartsong
(Ellanie)

The day had slowly wound down, her growing tired from being an active child until the sun faded from the sky. Ellanie snuggled beside her mother, whose arm wrapped around her gently while the girl’s small hand lay on her overly large belly. They had found themselves like this every night for some time, her mother lovingly singing a lullaby. The song was soft, weaving through the young girl’s mind. It promised to take her to a world of dreams, where her parents were together here at Blossom, where Ritoth, her father’s brown dragon, would let her near him without complaint. It led to a world of perfection, a happy place where they would be together.

The child stirred slightly inside of her mother, not as fond of the lullaby as its sister. This child would be the changer, it would bring her father to the Hold forever, letting him leave that nasty Weyr behind. Even if it gave him Ritoth, it didn’t deserve to keep him away from Mama!

Her mother’s song faded, her fingers continued to pet her light blonde hair that would darken as she got older. The girl allowed her dark blue eyes to drift closed, enjoying the moment beside her mother. With her eyes closed and no song occupying her ear, she heard her mother’s heartbeat, beating slowly, as if to continue the song she had so recently abandoned. For a moment, Ellanie thought that she had lost it, but within a second she found it again. It soothed her as much as her voice did, because it was Mama, her source of comfort, the one who loved her.

“What’s it saying, Ellanie?” Her voice was soft, caring. The girl pulled herself up from her spot beside her mother, resting her ear by her Mama’s bellybutton. She heard her sibling’s heartbeat faintly, the rhythm not as loud as her mother’s, though it seemed to echo through its small chamber. She closed her eyes and carefully hummed her mother’s lullaby, the baby’s heartbeat seeming to speed up slightly. It always sped up when it heard Ellanie’s voice. When she told her mother that, she had only smiled that knowing smile. ’Of course, Ellanie. It gets excited when it hears you; probably because of how sweet you are, darling.’ Even though Mama was probably not being serious, the little girl didn’t care.

“How are you?” She whispered to the babe, imagining it listening to her. Its heart told her the answers. It had begun as a game, back when her mother had first told her that the dolphins could hear another heart inside of hers. Ellanie had started listening then. The first time she did it, she had told her Mama that the baby was lonely, that it had no one with it and that it needed a friend. At her mother’s insistence, she had become that friend, talking to it almost as a daily ritual. Mama told her that the baby would know her when it was finally born, and then she’d have a friend forever.

“It’s saying that it wants to hear a new song, just for it. No Harpersongs, just its own that goes with its heart.” Ellanie’s hand had begun to obediently tap the rhythm lightly on her own leg, still leaned up against her mother.

“Oddly specific, isn’t it, today?” So soft, comforting, and yet the babe kicked lightly at Mama, trying to make her understand a message that Ellanie, child-whisperer, clearly understood.

“It says that today’s a day of celebration.” With a sudden sureness she wasn’t quite certain of where it had originated, Ellanie’s face broke out into the sunniest smile. “He says that today’s an important day, the day he’s willing to share with all of Pern. The time’s close.” She peered up at her mother. “I wonder what he’s going to do.”

Mama smiled warmly, her eyes closed as she listened for the message that escaped her. She felt Ellanie return to listening to her sibling. She felt the beat as Ellanie kept tapping, and decided, with all that the girl had been put through with concerns of both her and her loving E’lail that she deserved to be humored before being forced into the role of sister.

Her voice that could put a Harper to shame wove through the room, in tempo with the one her children were giving her. The notes were gentle, yet held strength in them. The song told the story of two siblings who met beneath the stars, who wandered around Pern before returning to their loving home, which was Blossom Hold, of course, each returning to nestle beside their mother as she sang them her gentle lullaby before they fell asleep. When they awoke, they would start their adventures again, but, for the moment, there was just them nestled beside their mother, drifting off to a world of dreams.

Ellanie had a contented smile on her face as the last notes of the song faded, her eyes closed. The moment she was sure that the song had been found satisfactory, she felt her mother’s hand grab onto hers gently. “Ellanie, my darling, it’s time. Go find Harie and tell her that I need her.” She had felt the smallest jerk, she was sure. Her eyes lifted as she scooted off the bed. As she ran out the door, she turned one final time, seeing her mother glow, her heart beating to the tempo of her brother’s song. “I love you, Mama.”

“And I you, darling.” Ellanie ran out the door to complete her task, eyes alight. Her mother’s final song continued ringing through her ears, the unspoken vow broken before the night was even out. She would never see her mother alive again.

[missa]

Just Give Me One Day
(Beka)

It wasn’t often Beka saw the marvels of a Hold, of all the stone and people wandering about. Even less, did she see the wonders of a gather; hear the music and the laughter coming from the holds. Now, hearing it from the safety of the river, Beka was just beginning to realize what she was missing out on. At a distance, she could see girls, long skirts with pretty colours, could hear the chatter of talking but unable to make out the words. Just once, she’d like to know what it was like to smile, and not be afraid, just once.

“Beka? What are you doing here? Your father is worried.” Killina’s voice spoke ever so softly, but it was enough to make the eight turn old spin around with a guilty look. Smiles and the innocent look had never worked on her mother, but it didn’t stop Beka trying as she smiled slightly at her mother. Waving once hand at the Hold, she turned her eyes there again, wondering what it would be like to wear pretty skirts like that, not worn pants and a ripped shirt that was far too big for her. She’d never asked where her mother had gotten them; she’d just accepted it, like everything else.
“I was watching the gather.”

So she couldn’t go in, so she couldn’t play with children her own age, it wasn’t that big a deal? At least she had clothes on her back, it was something, if not everything she could want.
“Mama, what’s it like out there?” What is it like to laugh like you haven’t a care? What’s it like to smile and only imagine the nightmares that haunt my dreams? What’s it like to wear pretty skirts and know you can get them dirty? What’s it like to have friends you can play with, go to for a hug when you’re afraid of the man that looks after you? What’s it like to be a normal child?
“It’s… Different, Beka. That’s all, just… Different.”

A silence followed those words, mother and daughter staring at the world they’d never be a part of, Killina wishing she could return, Beka wanting to know. Just one day, one day was all she asked. She could live with the beatings; she could live with terror and pain, and the constant bite of hunger in her belly. She’d put up with it all for one day of being a normal little girl.
“Will you take me one day?” It was a question without much hope, the girl’s eyes closing with a wistful sigh.
“No. You know I can’t.” Oh yes she knew, and the reason came towards them with surprising stealth for a man so large.

“Neither of you should be out here. Do you want to have to leave already?” It was a gruff voice that Beka had learned to fear, but never to respect and certainly not love. Now, she felt more of a resentment towards the man who called himself her father than ever before. One day was all she asked.
“Papa, can we go to the gather? Just once?” Oh she should have known better than to pose such a question, she knew the reaction before she felt the sting of the slap. It wasn’t unusual, but like every other time, it brought tears to her eyes, ones she fought back with the hurried blinking of her eyes.
“No.”

No. It was always no. Beka refused to move once her mother had left, once her father had stormed off. She’d go, in her own time. What would it be like to be so carefree? To grow up having everything given to you, not having to climb in trees for fruit, or dig for greens. The longer Beka watched, the longer the feeling of envy grew in her heart, making her glare at the gather that had once astounded her. Jealousy. Why should they have everything? Why should they get all they wanted while Beka didn’t have what most kids needed? She didn’t have a mother’s love, or a father’s protection. They did. What more could they want?
“One day. Just one day in a world I don’t belong in… Give me just one day…”

With those heartfelt, almost pleading words, the holdless child turned her back on the security of the Hold, returning slowly to the waking nightmare and pain she knew awaited her under her father’s gaze. Tears pricked at her eyes as she walked, burning, dripping on dirty cheeks. She’d never have all they had, she had to face it, she’d been born to a Shunned man, a term she didn’t understand, other than it made the few people she’d seen look at her father with fear or hate in their eyes, the same feelings Beka felt each day when she dragged open her eyes.

Withstand the blows, cry like he wants her too, that’s all she can do when her father is angry at her. Beg and plead for him to stop, stop the bleeding of her nose with her hand as she cowers away from the anger directed at her. Knocked around a bit, until she cries out with pain, until she curls herself into that little ball that will protect her, until she begs and pleads, until she tells him everything he wants to hear while that cool feeling inside burns.

Later, when her father’s heavy breathing assured her he was really asleep, Beka’s eyes went to the sky she could barely see through the red haze of pain and the tears. Other children didn’t have this, they didn’t have to run, or hide, they could run to their fathers, not away. They could know that no matter what, their parents would love them, Beka wanted to be like them. Looking up, with one hand curled around her stomach, the eight turn old whispered four words before she closed her eyes for sleep.
“Give me one day.”