Post by kat on Jul 15, 2009 9:06:45 GMT -5
Ari walked quietly down the corridor leading to the girl's barracks, the sound of her own footsteps and her heart that beat a little too fast the only noises that accompanied her passing. This was where she'd been sent, the scribbled little map clutched tightly in her fist, which was beginning to perspire. She finally came to the large room, a room that would be shared with any female candidate, be it wher or dragon. Had she really agreed to do this?
She'd been a drudge these past four years. It wasn't exactly what anyone though of as a fulfilling and good life, but it was her life. The life she knew, inside and out. A drudge was expected to do her duties, and the duties were clearly set out for her. Day in, and day out, she cleaned and served those who lived in this Weyr that had been her home for the past fifteen Turns. Had she honestly and truly agreed to this?
She wasn't sure which bed to pick, but the small chest of drawers beside each bed indicated which were taken, and which were not. She chose the one in the corner of the large room, right up against the wall, sighing heavily and placing her meager bag of belongings on the bed as she began to unpack. Why had she agreed to this?
A wher candidate. She had seen whers throughout the Weyr. Intimidating, large creatures who were some...mistake. They were supposed to have been improvements on dragons. Only it hadn't turned out that way. Now they were bonding to people, and now they were accepting candidates to bond to them. A candidate...her. It felt so surreal. Was this what she really wanted? Would any wher, or anything, for that matter, want her? She was only a drudge, and a poor excuse for one, at that. After all, even drudges had things like friends. People they cared about, that cared about them. She didn't even have that. She supposed it was her own fault.
She'd never been good with people, with making friends. It was probably why she was still alive, what with all that went on in this Weyr. The wars. The siege by Benden. Fort's takeover. The deaths, the tons upon tons of deaths...she shuddered a moment, placing all too neatly folded clothes inside the second drawer down. She had three outfits to her name, just three. They'd said they would send her new ones, but she hadn't really had new ones since the one outfit they gave her as a 'passable' gather outfit. A plain, dark brown skirt and a darker blue shirt. Nothing fancy, but to a drudge it was more than good enough. She had been a drudge. Would she go back to that? Maybe...
She thought she heard someone coming down the corridor, but she couldn't be certain. They weren't near enough yet, it could be someone or something else, really. So, she finished putting her two sets of just cleaned clothing in the drawer. She unpacked her other things, then. A brush, a brush for her teeth. An old stuffed dragon that she'd washed before coming here. A little needle and thread kit. Then came her journal, which was probably her most prized possession other than that old stuffed dragon. The dragon was brown, and it had been the only real thing that had ever been just her own. She'd had it since she was small, and she was more attached to it than any person. His name was Canth, like the old story...
The journal had a little pot of ink and a quill placed beside it. She'd saved up for that ink and quill, and every night she wrote in her journal. She poured her innermost feelings and heart into it. Not like she had anyone to talk to to get that stuff out, after all. There it was again, the sound of footsteps. She sat on the edge of the bed that was now hers, the fresh sheets shifting slightly underneath her, and clutched Canth to her, feeling lonelier than she had in a long while. Had she really and truly agreed to this...?
She'd been a drudge these past four years. It wasn't exactly what anyone though of as a fulfilling and good life, but it was her life. The life she knew, inside and out. A drudge was expected to do her duties, and the duties were clearly set out for her. Day in, and day out, she cleaned and served those who lived in this Weyr that had been her home for the past fifteen Turns. Had she honestly and truly agreed to this?
She wasn't sure which bed to pick, but the small chest of drawers beside each bed indicated which were taken, and which were not. She chose the one in the corner of the large room, right up against the wall, sighing heavily and placing her meager bag of belongings on the bed as she began to unpack. Why had she agreed to this?
A wher candidate. She had seen whers throughout the Weyr. Intimidating, large creatures who were some...mistake. They were supposed to have been improvements on dragons. Only it hadn't turned out that way. Now they were bonding to people, and now they were accepting candidates to bond to them. A candidate...her. It felt so surreal. Was this what she really wanted? Would any wher, or anything, for that matter, want her? She was only a drudge, and a poor excuse for one, at that. After all, even drudges had things like friends. People they cared about, that cared about them. She didn't even have that. She supposed it was her own fault.
She'd never been good with people, with making friends. It was probably why she was still alive, what with all that went on in this Weyr. The wars. The siege by Benden. Fort's takeover. The deaths, the tons upon tons of deaths...she shuddered a moment, placing all too neatly folded clothes inside the second drawer down. She had three outfits to her name, just three. They'd said they would send her new ones, but she hadn't really had new ones since the one outfit they gave her as a 'passable' gather outfit. A plain, dark brown skirt and a darker blue shirt. Nothing fancy, but to a drudge it was more than good enough. She had been a drudge. Would she go back to that? Maybe...
She thought she heard someone coming down the corridor, but she couldn't be certain. They weren't near enough yet, it could be someone or something else, really. So, she finished putting her two sets of just cleaned clothing in the drawer. She unpacked her other things, then. A brush, a brush for her teeth. An old stuffed dragon that she'd washed before coming here. A little needle and thread kit. Then came her journal, which was probably her most prized possession other than that old stuffed dragon. The dragon was brown, and it had been the only real thing that had ever been just her own. She'd had it since she was small, and she was more attached to it than any person. His name was Canth, like the old story...
The journal had a little pot of ink and a quill placed beside it. She'd saved up for that ink and quill, and every night she wrote in her journal. She poured her innermost feelings and heart into it. Not like she had anyone to talk to to get that stuff out, after all. There it was again, the sound of footsteps. She sat on the edge of the bed that was now hers, the fresh sheets shifting slightly underneath her, and clutched Canth to her, feeling lonelier than she had in a long while. Had she really and truly agreed to this...?