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Post by hrsegrl on Dec 20, 2010 19:44:16 GMT -5
Denvaril sat on his cot, staring blankly at the cavernous wall in front of him. He should have died when he had the chance. Denvaril thought as the pain from his wound throbbed for not the first time since being away from the Infirmary with their fellis juice and numbweed. He was glad to be out of the depressing place but the Candidate Barracks for him was almost as unpleasant. Perhaps more so now that he thought about it.
He really should not be thinking about anything. The more he thought about things the more he cared about things and the more he wanted to live. Whenever he thought about wanting to live he thought of his guilt for being alive when other people died which eventually led him to Chipth and then to anger and thoughts of revenge. Then he did something stupid, like move in a way that was not conducive to him healing and he was in pain again. Which of course made this place even more depressing.
Sighing deeply he spent the next few moments trying to decide if he really wanted to go anywhere. His stomach answered with a light grumble. Denvaril, as much as he hated life right now, was not about to allow his health to go just because he was sad. The healers were barely able to save him. He should have died so there had to be a purpose to his existence. A comforting thought perhaps but he would like to know what that purpose was. His sister constantly came and checked up at him while he was at the Infirmary and he had only been in the Barracks for one night. Now that morning had come, he had no doubt she would be making certain he was up and doing the same things he used to do.
HAH! He used to be able to run every morning which was the best way to deal with the anger he felt. Now he had absolutely no outlet. Running would reopen his wound. Personally he had no desire to be in the infirmary longer than he had to already. His mother was prattling on to him while he was in there about how he should give up on this whole dragonrider thing now. He had thought about it. He had taken everything she had said to heart and came to the conclusion that he would never be at peace with himself if he did not keep striving for that which he had always wanted. And so he took each day as it came to him.
Every morning, he woke up, he breathed in and out and he made himself get out of bed. Eventually things would become easier. Eventually every dragon he saw wouldn't remind him of her. Finally one day, she would simply be a memory. Right? He was not sure he had himself convinced there. The Barracks had turned into a crypt. There was no one really about and as much as he hated to say it, they did not deserve to be here if they were cowards in the first place. It was with this in mind he stood up, wincing slightly at the pain and began to walk to the common room. The room was also decidedly empty. He stuck by what he thought earlier, the word escaping his lips this time with disdain and anger filtering through his voice, “Cowards.”
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Rowana
Hive Mind
Handler Roivao Rider G'tor Rider Merridan Rider T'ke Rider N'rik Handler Porita Rider Farryl Rider Kyr'n[/color
Posts: 1,550
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Post by Rowana on Dec 20, 2010 20:24:15 GMT -5
The common room wasn't nearly as empty as it first appeared. Tucked away in one corner, an older girl with dark hair sat alone. Porita had a basket of clothe, threads, and needles in her lap and was currently sewing the hem of a shirt. She forced herself to focus on the task, clinging to it like a lifeline. This was something she used to love doing and one of the few things she was good at doing. At the moment, it was the only thing keeping her from slipping back into the deep hole that Jipth had left in her.
Asharra and the other Healers had helped her recover from the initial shock of loosing her dragon, but they couldn't heal her heart. She had toyed with the idea of joining her beloved dragon. She wasn't much use to anyone now, after all. Wrolnoh would surly have told everyone she was dead so he could remarry. Even if she could convince her family to take her back, why should they? No man would want a wife would couldn't give him heirs. The best she could hope for was to be left to care for her sisters little ones. It was that or the Bitran brothels. In the end, she had stayed at Selenitas. For a brief time before the Hatching, this place had felt like home. Maybe, just maybe, it could be that again.
Porita hadn't noticed the young man enter the common room. It was his exclamation that made her jerk up in surprise, her sewing basket clattered to the floor. The noise made her wince, though it was only loud because of how quiet it was. Her eyes flicked briefly to Denvaril's, nervous and fearful. She looked down quickly and silently began collecting her things. She thought she recognized him from the sands, but it was all a blur and she had no head for names and faces. Any second she was sure he would punish her for her clumsiness and rightly so. Most of the men she'd ever had ever met, hated it when a woman drew attention to herself. Porita almost welcomed the idea. Anything to take her mind off what had happened.
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Post by hrsegrl on Dec 20, 2010 20:43:20 GMT -5
At first Denvaril was not quite sure what had happened. He had been a little angry but he had no idea he was loud enough to cause a reaction from what seemed to be the only other person in the room. Normally he wouldn't have sounded so harsh. Things had change and apparently he was now scary. He looked over at the woman who seemed to be hurrying to pick up everything she had dropped. Her being in the Candidate Barracks was enough for her to be on his non-coward list and therefore none of his anger was for her.
Walking over to her slowly, he tried not to scare the young woman further. He thought about bending over to help her but decided against. Denvaril would certainly have helped had he not been stabbed in the gut. A frown on his face he thought about what he could do to dissolve her fear. “I apologize. I had no idea anyone else was in here.” He tried a smile however it came off looking more sad than happy. “I'm Denvaril” He said keeping the rest of his title in his head, formerly D'ril of green Chipth. He did not feel it necessary to say more than his name seeing as he was in the Barracks. Few people who were not Candidates had any reason to be here.
He realized he had seen her before. Likely from the Hatching. He did not know her well though, she must have been Searched from outside the Weyr. From the look of things she was not searched close to Selenitas. If he had to guess he would say she was from the North. “Have you eaten?” He asked in a rather straight to the point way. Only a moment later his stomach made some more noise. Denvaril, while not embarrassed by the sound was slightly irritated that he was so hungry.
He would give anything not to go to the Weyrhall where people would recognize him and tell him how sorry they were and how they understood how he was feeling. What did they know about how he felt anyway? Still there was nothing for it and it would be nice to have company that seemed to be more the quiet type.
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on Dec 20, 2010 21:13:48 GMT -5
It was an odd time indeed to be returning to this Weyr. Odder still as a candidate. Faolan glanced around the unfamiliar barracks as he readjusted the sack on his shoulder. It was all he owned in the world. The pale blue eyes were wide and blank, taking in the surroundings with no judgment. When he'd been a candidate - even when he'd been a rider - the candidate barracks had been outside, in a wooden construct not far from the hatching grounds. Now that building no longer stood above the falls.
The man resumed walking after a long moment. He could have been a woman. A flat woman, yes, but he wasn't terribly tall and he certainly wasn't built. His hair was long and soft, pulled back in a simple tail. His features weren't altogether soft, but the lack of emotion behind them softened them somewhat. Most people looked stony without emotion in their faces. His face wasn't so much hard as slack, though. Like there wasn't enough left of him to really feel. If anything he just looked a little lost and maybe a touch curious.
His fingers came up to trail along the stone before he stepped into the common room and stopped. This time, his reaction was instantaneous. His shoulders hunched slightly. His steps quieted. He wasn't sneaking because he wasn't hiding, but he adopted the posture of someone used to being invisible. They seemed to be occupied with something that he shouldn't be disturbing.
Only then did he notice - a few seconds later - that these were other candidates. But of course. Candidates belonged in candidate barracks. (It begged the question of why he was here, of course, given he was twenty-six and a good deal older than most of the people here. Not really his fault that they housed the wher candidates with the dragon candidates, though. Why a wher? Selenitas held his loyalty even as it held his pain. He could do nothing with dragons. Could barely look at or think of them. Whers were another matter, though. And Selenitas needed him. It was hurting.)
Changing his mind about not bothering the two, he moved and knelt near Porita. If he placed himself in such a way as to be between her and Dendaril well...it was subconscious. Nimble fingers helped pick up her things. His words had little to do with what was going on, though. "Where are the men quartered?" he asked of Dendaril quietly.
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Rowana
Hive Mind
Handler Roivao Rider G'tor Rider Merridan Rider T'ke Rider N'rik Handler Porita Rider Farryl Rider Kyr'n[/color
Posts: 1,550
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Post by Rowana on Dec 20, 2010 22:22:32 GMT -5
Porita kept her eyes down, even as Denvaril spoke. He sounded nice enough, for a man, but that was no reason to trust him. She might not have spoken at all, except her mother would never forgive her if she were rude. "Porita," she managed, in a tiny voice. She started to shake her head to indicate she wasn't hungry, but that would have been a lie. Neither food nor sleep had come easily of late and her stomach was starting to feel the consequences. "A little," she squeaked out finally, before busying herself with the scattered sewing supplies.
By now someone else had entered the room, completely ruining any plans Porita may have had for a quiet day. This man was older, which was a bit odd. She vaguely recalled that wher candidates slept here as well and some of them could be as old as thirty turns. This was the first one she'd noticed until now, however. She glanced up in alarm when he bent down to help, looking almost frantic at the idea. "Please," she whispered meekly, extremely embarrassed. "Don't trouble yourself, sir." She hurriedly bundled the remaining clothe into the basket. What kind of man would stoop the helping a woman?
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Post by hrsegrl on Dec 21, 2010 8:28:30 GMT -5
Denvaril noticed the other person enter the Barracks and at first was unsure of whether said person was a man or a woman, though he quickly thereafter decided on man with effeminate features. He was older than either himself or the young woman who had just told him her name. Porita. Hmm, yes, the name was familiar too. She had eaten a little, well that was hardly enough for a morning meal. Food was essential to get the right start in the day. Who was he kidding? He had not eaten well at all, though he was still deciding whether that was because of his wound or his emotional trauma. Even this new person seemed less than cheery.
“Men are on the right.” He answered wondering if the man thought he had something to do with the way Porita was acting. That was a harsh judgement though he may have thought the same thing if he were the other man. Maybe he should explain himself or maybe he should simply let it go. Really it would not matter. His dark eyes were dull where they used to light up on speaking to people. He did not feel that this man's opinion of him would be of any value in his life so he continued the conversation. “Porita and I were about to grab something to eat if you would like to join us?” The more people with him the better. It should keep his sister from pestering him for a time if she thought he had new friends.
Porita looked even more terrified at the man helping her than she had with him. There was someone who had a horrible past. Her demeanor spoke volumes. Denvaril could not help but feel some pity for her. Someone had mistreated her. In the North perhaps, women were seen as dirt to be trod on but here that simply was not the case. He knew she would have to go with them now that he said she was going and though he felt a little bit bad about doing this to her, his own needs at the moment were outweighing his compassion for other people.
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on Dec 21, 2010 13:01:57 GMT -5
He barely masked his initial reaction to the girl's words. But he didn't drop the supplies immediately as his first instinct was. Instead he set them down neatly near her basket and draped his arms over his knees, looking just a little bit like a kicked puppy with his eyes focused so intently on the floor in front of him. His eyes flicked up to Denvaril and he nodded in silence to the response, the flicker of a polite, grateful smile playing across his lips like he was painting it on.
The man stood gracefully - too graceful, really - and slipped toward the door that the boy had indicated. He stopped in the doorway and glanced back. The expression was unreadable, though there seemed nothing closed about it at first glance. Faolan nodded after a moment and disappeared inside the doorway. When he reappeared a few moments later the sack was gone.
This time, he didn't get anywhere near Porita. He'd gotten his fill of northern women staring at him in horror turns ago.
Rubbing lightly at his own wrist, he glanced at the younger - and decidedly taller - man. "I'm Faolan," he offered, almost tentatively. His eyes flicked back in the direction from which he'd come. "The Main Hall has moved, hasn't it? I think it has...didn't see the tree on the way in," he mumbled, mostly to himself. Which meant he really had no clue in which direction to go to get this breakfast. It might have been more appropriate to introduce himself as Faolan, formerly F'lan of blue Wrenth. But what purpose would that serve? He hadn't been back to Selenitas in turns.
A glance was spared Porita, then he was back to studying his hands. "I'm sorry," he told the girl finally, still not looking at her. "I didn't mean to -" He waved a hand in a gesture that was supposed to take the place of words. The wher candidate turned toward the entrance to the barracks. "You'll take us there?" he asked of the other male. Denvaril seemed to know what he was doing, anyway.
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Rowana
Hive Mind
Handler Roivao Rider G'tor Rider Merridan Rider T'ke Rider N'rik Handler Porita Rider Farryl Rider Kyr'n[/color
Posts: 1,550
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Post by Rowana on Dec 22, 2010 17:26:31 GMT -5
Porita still wouldn't look Faolan in the eyes, but she did manage a nod of thanks when he put the things back in her basket. She could hardly argue with him if he wanted to do it. It looked like she was going to eat food with them too, according to Denvaril. She wasn't really sure how she felt about that. It was true her stomach was pretty empty, but food didn't appeal to her right now. Still, being alone wasn't helping much either. Maybe they at least wouldn't expect her to talk much. She stood slowly, and set the basket back in the chair she had vacated. No one was likely to bother it.
Despite herself, she found some curiosity about Faolan. Did he mean he'd been here before? She wondered why he'd left and why he seemed so sad. She supposed it could be any number of reasons and it was rude to ask men their problems. Besides, she wouldn't be much comfort today. Absently she check to make sure her burnt orange scarf was in place, hiding her neck. At Faolan's apology, Porita shook her head emphatically. "The fault was mine, sir," she answered quietly, twiddling her fingers. She was used to taking the blame for most things even if they weren't her fault. That was the way it worked, wasn't it?
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Post by hrsegrl on Dec 23, 2010 9:46:01 GMT -5
As strange as this other man was, he was quite certain he had seen him before. Where and why were a mystery to him. Having lived at the Weyr his whole life he knew many people here. Faolan's comment was not lost on him at all. So Faolan had been here before which brought him to wonder why he left? He had come back as a Wher Candidate. Perhaps he had left after not impressing a dragon. Or worse, after losing his dragon. What would be the odds?
Seeing as the other two were about as cheerful as death, he knew conversation would be kept to a minimum. Nor did he wish to make things any more awkward than they were. He put his hand through his brown curling haur out of habit, making him wince slightly. This whole mental recovery thing would work much better if he wasn't constantly reminded with the pain in his gut. He looked over the effeminate Faolan and the subservient Porita before commenting on anything.
Porita was obviously used to being told what to do and jump to it. She may have been a little plain but there were parts of her that could be considered pretty. She seemed to lack any sort of confidence or love of life. Faolan was a bit harder to describe the man was willowy like a woman in many respects though he at least seemed to have a backbone although again he seemed a bit, well... subservient. They were both quiet, although what sort of people they were was of no concern to him really. He wondered if they were both from the North? He had seen people from the North come here before, they were broken on the inside.
Deciding to move the conversation forward he spoke in a normal conversational voice, “Things do change quickly around here.” Directing the comment to Faolan who perhaps had hoped he would not be heard. Denvaril let go of the topic and quickly moved on as to why he would be leading them, “ Selenitas is and always has been my home. I will take you to the Dining Hall. Food is after all essential to the beginning of the day. We have to keep our strength up.” He said simply, to the point. There was no reason he should be dishonest. Telling them he was from here might prolong any questions about him being a Candidate. This was for the better, at least for now.
His stomach grumbled again. “Are you both ready?” He waited to see if they were indeed prepared to go out and face the Weyr and all its inhabitants. Even he felt a bit tentative about leaving the quiet of the Candidate Barracks.
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on Dec 23, 2010 20:54:57 GMT -5
"Don't call me that," Faolan murmured. Loud enough to be heard - he meant to be, after all - but without anything resembling the snap of command. The pale blue eyes snapped toward Denvaril. All his life...well, chances were he was young enough he wouldn't remember. It had been ten turns. And when Fiona died...Faolan really hadn't spent that much time at Selenitas Weyr, when it was all said and done. Fiona. It had been a long time since he'd thought of his twin.
There was the slightest twitch upward of a brow. Food was essential to the beginning of the day? Rather formal sort of person, wasn't he? The man's eyes narrowed calculatingly and then he flashed a smile that was decidedly more wolfish than pleasant. "Can't go about letting the day start out wrong, now can we?" He gestured with a partial shrug toward the entrance to the candidate barracks. "After you."
This time there was no mistaking the older man's positioning as he edged closer to Porita. Decidedly protective. Whatever had just set him off about Denvaril, he apparently found the candidate dangerous enough to shield the girl from him. "What's your name?" he asked her quietly. Faolan didn't touch her. He knew better than that. As chilled as he'd suddenly become toward Denvaril, he was equally warm with Porita.
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Rowana
Hive Mind
Handler Roivao Rider G'tor Rider Merridan Rider T'ke Rider N'rik Handler Porita Rider Farryl Rider Kyr'n[/color
Posts: 1,550
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Post by Rowana on Dec 26, 2010 10:26:06 GMT -5
Porita nodded at Denvaril, but stood waiting for both men to go first. She knew the way to the Dining Hall as well, but she didn't care to take the lead. It would have been rude and improper for a woman and Denvaril seemed to want to show them. She wasn't sure she could even keep down food at the moment, but she supposed she couldn't let herself waste away. It was almost tempting, but she'd made it this far because Jipth had wanted her to be happy. She wasn't sure she could face him knowing she'd failed both to protect him and fulfill his wish.
Porita looked up, a bit startled that Faolan had come so close. Her eyes met his for a second, and she found herself wishing he didn't look so lost. He hadn't touched her, so she didn't flinch away, but her eyes dropped back down. She'd noticed his protectiveness, and it made her very self conscious. She wasn't used to a man going to so much trouble for her, even Wrolnoh. If they knew more about her, they wouldn't probably realize she wasn't worth protecting. "It's Porita, s..Faolon," she answered in a stammer. Her face turned lightly pink with nerves. She'd almost forgotten he'd asked her not to call him 'sir'!
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Post by hrsegrl on Jan 10, 2011 14:59:11 GMT -5
Things just got better and better, he thought to himself looking at Faolan and Porita. If he cared about his impression on either of them he might find that he was a little misjudged at the moment. However, he was not his charming self anymore. He could care less what either person thought of him. It was not as if it mattered to anyone who he was really. His reasonings for dragging both of them for food was only to appease the people who were concerned about him. Other than that people were simply background noise in the world he lived in.
Denvaril made no comment on the way to the Dining Hall. There were several ways he could have gone but he took the most direct route so as to keep Faolan from getting lost should he attempt to arrive here alone at some other time. “Its just through there.” He motioned to the two who followed him. “I hope its not too crowded.” The thought escaped his lips without realizing. He had meant to keep his thoughts to himself.
The Dining Hall was not empty. It was nothing close to empty. The bustling of people and the noise, he could tell it was quite full. There were few tables available to sit at. The last thing he wanted to do was join a table with a lot of people who might recognize him. Then again it might be beneficial for the place to be crowded so none of his old friends could come and find him. The last thing he wanted was a pity party.
Pulling himself together, he resolved to walk in. He was going to go in there, get food, eat and leave. Simple. Oh so simple and yet... Denvaril felt he was walking in slow motion. His breath caught in his throat, color rose to his cheeks and every whisper seemed to be about him as he walked to grab a tray of food. Swallowing hard he took food with perceptibly shaking hands. Deep breath, deep breath. The youth finally retrieved about all the food he could stomach and went to sit down at a table. Again the observation that there were few available struck him.
He was going to have to walk past half the room to get to an empty table. Denvaril determined that he would do it. He never failed when he said he would do something, err, almost never. Finally reaching the table, he thought his arms might stop shaking. Unfortunately it seemed his nerves were none too calm. Deep breath, deep breath. He sat staring at his food for a good few minutes. When he found he could lift food to his mouth without shaking, he began to eat. Conversation was not a priority for him.
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on Jan 12, 2011 9:15:26 GMT -5
Faolan spared a smile for Porita at her response, the expression obviously somewhat forced. It wasn't so much that it wasn't genuine; it simply looked out of place on his face, like the muscles weren't at all used to that configuration. The candidate nodded and fell back a little to let Porita walk between the two as they went. It was hard to say why he did that, really. Protecting her? Or was it simply more comfortable for him to trail behind?
A small furrow had formed between his brows by the time they reached the dining room. He was trying to memorize the way, but the new layout of the Weyr kept conflicting with memory and it was disorienting him a bit. His eyes flicked toward the doors. He couldn't help but agree with Denvaril; it would definitely be better if there weren't too many people there. Unfortunately, the low buzz that could be heard from here suggested otherwise.
If he had ever seemed confident or sure of what he was doing - which was highly debatable anyway - that vanished the moment they entered the hall. Faolan edged closer to his two companions. Particularly Denvaril. His eyes darted briefly before they fixed firmly on his feet, the man navigating the press by feel and peripheral vision alone. He was quick about getting his food so as not to be left behind, though he did pause once to check on Porita to make sure she hadn't gotten lost.
By the time a table was found, the man was trembling enough that it could be seen in the shaking of the cutlery on his tray. His pale blue eyes were half-wild, but he managed to sit without mishap and focused his attention determinedly on his plate. Spear food, lift, chew. Repeat. The simple repitition of the pattern was calming, to some extent. "I-is it always like this?" he questioned, his voice barely audible.
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Rowana
Hive Mind
Handler Roivao Rider G'tor Rider Merridan Rider T'ke Rider N'rik Handler Porita Rider Farryl Rider Kyr'n[/color
Posts: 1,550
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Post by Rowana on Jan 16, 2011 17:43:36 GMT -5
Porita wasn't used to walking in front of a man, but Faolon seemed determined to let her go next. It would be rude to refuse him and she couldn't forget the sadness in his eyes when he smiled. Maybe she was being too hard on these two, but being around men still made her nervous. The walk to the Dining Hall passed mostly in silence, to her relief. Yet, when they reached their destination it became clear they wouldn't escape notice so easily. The Dining Hall was full of people. Porita supposed she shouldn't be surprise, but it didn't make her feel any better.
Porita clung to the end of her scarf like a lifeline. Denvaril and Faolan might be men, but at least they seemed to agree with her that crowds were bad. She kept her eyes fixed on the two of them as she put a small selection of fruit and rolls on her plate. She doubted she had much appetite for more. With quick steps, she sank gratefully into a chair at their table. Nervous she picked a roll apart, but barely ate more than a few bites. She glanced at the other two, noting that they didn't seem up for much conversation either. She didn't answer Faolan's question, assuming it was probably meant for Denvaril. Maybe they would forget about her, but then, she wasn't entirely sure if she would like that any more than talking.
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Post by hrsegrl on Jan 18, 2011 9:10:01 GMT -5
The young man ate with a rapidity that was almost inhuman. He had not realized how hungry he had been. Food could easily become a comfort if he let it. He would eat until he was full and then he would stop. There would be no snacking or eating food to try to hide or ease the pain. Besides his stomach couldn't handle as much as he wanted to eat, there was still a constant throbbing where the blade had punctured his midsection. He stopped eating as abruptly as he had begun. Denvaril could physically not eat another bite.
He was not ignoring Faolan's question, merely pondering why he felt it was different. The Dining Hall he remembered was not the one they were sitting in now. He remembered it being full of people chatting amiably and laughing and not being miserable or concerned about what everyone was thinking as he walked by. Things were different to him, however, he doubted they were different to everyone. “No, its not always like this for some people. I liked coming here before...” He took a sip of water as if needing to push down something caught in his throat. “before the Hatching.”
Denvaril's eyes moved up from his plate to look at Porita. She would understand what he meant by that. Maybe she was shy and subservient but she had felt briefly the same way he had and she would know the pain as well and how things change so quickly when tragedy befalls you. Denvaril was not like Porita in many ways though. He dealt with his pain differently although neither of them were about to talk about the deaths of their dragonets.
“Everything is different now.” He spoke as though that were true for everyone. The Weyr had changed and not just for him. Since the Wastelander's had taken control things had been different for everyone. Although his life had not at first been greatly affected. He had been able to stand for a Hatching and he had impressed. For those short few moments, everything about his life made sense. And then they attacked her and he attacked them and got himself nearly killed along with her. Things became devastating and complicated from there on out. Since then, nothing had been the same for him. Nor did he think he would ever be the same again.
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