Post by raii on Mar 22, 2010 21:05:56 GMT -5
There were a lot of people. People were everywhere. They were buying and laughing and eating. They all looked so happy, not one bit anxious about the amount of people around them. He didn’t quite feel himself here, perhaps because it dragged memories of his parents back. The gather stalls were pretty though. There were colors, and they seemed to sell everything.
The last gather he’d been to had been like this. He’d been very small then, however, and had both of his parents. He’d been happier, glad to be at his very first gather. He’d been too young, and still had separation issues with his parents. That’s why it had been such a big deal that he’d gotten separated from them. Of course, when his father died, the memory only seemed to make his mourning harder.
When he had gotten lost, he’d sworn never to go to a gather again, and when his father died, this didn’t change. It was childish, he knew that. He was still a child, but he denied that. In a frenzied attempt to escape his childhood, he’d come to the gather, against his younger-self’s wishes.
He probably wouldn’t stay long. He had no money, no friends, only the lone rider who he had never met who had flown him over here. He asked for a free glass of water from the beverages stand, and found an empty picnic table. He stretched out his long legs, letting his mop of brilliant blond hair fall over his eyes.
He was struggling to find himself. He was no longer a child, but not yet a man. Parts of him, and certainly how he appeared to others, were still childlike and silly, almost always happy. Though he would never admit it out of pride, this part was far more dominant. Every now and then, he felt the maturity, the desire to be an adult, the thinking. He thought of his parents, of their dragons. Of every dragon rider, of the Weyrs. Of everything.
He wished he didn’t think today. This gather would be difficult enough without so many thoughts flying through his head. There were so many what ifs and what woulds and questions in general, and so many wonderings on how things worked or felt. There were so many things he wanted to experience, and so many things he wished he never had.
Rather, one thing he wished never had: his father’s death. His life would be so much different. Ever the optimist, Rofi reasoned with this thought. If it hadn’t happened, he might not be a candidate. He might not be who he was today. He might be even more of a kid. Then again, he probably would have been to other gathers, and would not now be broke.
The last gather he’d been to had been like this. He’d been very small then, however, and had both of his parents. He’d been happier, glad to be at his very first gather. He’d been too young, and still had separation issues with his parents. That’s why it had been such a big deal that he’d gotten separated from them. Of course, when his father died, the memory only seemed to make his mourning harder.
When he had gotten lost, he’d sworn never to go to a gather again, and when his father died, this didn’t change. It was childish, he knew that. He was still a child, but he denied that. In a frenzied attempt to escape his childhood, he’d come to the gather, against his younger-self’s wishes.
He probably wouldn’t stay long. He had no money, no friends, only the lone rider who he had never met who had flown him over here. He asked for a free glass of water from the beverages stand, and found an empty picnic table. He stretched out his long legs, letting his mop of brilliant blond hair fall over his eyes.
He was struggling to find himself. He was no longer a child, but not yet a man. Parts of him, and certainly how he appeared to others, were still childlike and silly, almost always happy. Though he would never admit it out of pride, this part was far more dominant. Every now and then, he felt the maturity, the desire to be an adult, the thinking. He thought of his parents, of their dragons. Of every dragon rider, of the Weyrs. Of everything.
He wished he didn’t think today. This gather would be difficult enough without so many thoughts flying through his head. There were so many what ifs and what woulds and questions in general, and so many wonderings on how things worked or felt. There were so many things he wanted to experience, and so many things he wished he never had.
Rather, one thing he wished never had: his father’s death. His life would be so much different. Ever the optimist, Rofi reasoned with this thought. If it hadn’t happened, he might not be a candidate. He might not be who he was today. He might be even more of a kid. Then again, he probably would have been to other gathers, and would not now be broke.