Winds of Change | {tag} | Fawkes/Daela

All the rest of the Northern Continent that Atricis left behind. Atricis' old Holds can be found within, as well as all the other Holds and Weyrs and old lands left behind.
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lucidmaus
Posts: 110
Joined: Wed Nov 28, 2018 3:55 am
Pronouns: She/Her
Age: 37

Tue Jan 22, 2019 9:29 pm

As surely as the thought crossed her mind, it crossed his:

He had been Searched once. What did it matter that another Weyr saw the same thing in him? Who was to know what Weyr's dragons would find him suitable? The only thing that made Doumah hesitate was the very thought that she might suffer for it.

He did not relish the idea of someone being punished for what was, ultimately, his decision.

But who was to say what such a punishment would be? If there was one, even? It was a risk that he was willing to take - and he was not one known to take many risks. He called Bune to him with a clicking of tongue against teeth and a mental tug that was familiar to the beast.

With a farewell chirp to Israfeth, the tiny bronze fluttered to his living perch and settled there, bright-eyed and cheerful and singularly oblivious to what was going to happen.

"The bond of your dragon, is stronger than anything else... no matter where you are. And Atricis will be lucky to have you Doumah, I have a good feeling about you being there. I left my home and family behind to come to Atricis, though I thought I would go back... now I don't think I ever will."

He nodded, slow and sure, her words doing well to further cement his own thoughts. It helped more than he could explain; to know that he wasn't alone. To know that he wasn't the first to struggle with it. To know that the idea of leaving home and never returning wasn't so terrible, after all. His blood might ache at the idea of abandoning all of that tradition, all of that history, but what good was it all? What purpose did it serve if it was kept in one place forever, never to be shared or shown?

"We're more alike than you think Doumah, and someday maybe I can tell you all about my story, but I think yours is about to start."

The nudge to his shoulder briefly elicited a strange spark, uncertainty flaring once more, but of a different kind. Doumah hesitated, then nudged back. It was a friendly thing; gentle, if not downright cautious. "I cast my lot with you, Daela and Israfeth. If you are right, then there will be plenty of time to hear your story."

"I wont have long here, once Manion is done, I'm back off to Atricis... Israfeth is telling me that the crafter says he'll be about half a candlemark... Is that enough for you?"

He pulled away from the fence. "More than enough."

He wasted no further time.

The young man had few possessions; everything he had would fit - if tightly - into a single large knapsack. Clothing, for the most part. A few things for Bune. But none of the usual things that most youths his age would accumulate; his family was not well off and he had little desire to keep things around that were merely sentimental. The only thing he had of value, the only thing tied tightly to the idea of tradition and family, was a set of butcher's knives and other tools. These were neatly packed up and bundled into the bag as well. He gave a final pass over his bed, re-making it for the last time. Everything else was empty and clean.

He considered his room for a few moments - it felt like a long time, but he rarely spent so much time in his own thoughts. His entire life had just been doing things. Do this. Do that. Refine this skill. Focus on that task. There had been little time or effort spent on himself. On who he was.

The idea that he was something more than the blood of butchers, descended of a long line of the same, was both terrifying and thrilling.

That it was the rider of the most magnificent dragon he'd ever seen that had offered that chance-

How big of a fool would he have to be to deny it?

His parents were working and he knew well what would happen when he told them. It pained him, but he decided to leave a short letter instead. The letters were carefully printed; the missive itself left in the middle of a table with an empty glass on top. It would be impossible to miss.

He blew out a final breath and stepped out into the bowl for the last time.

From there, he would just have to trust in Israfeth's judgment - and Daela's faith in him.

He just hoped both of them were stronger than he felt.

{END}
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D'mah o | o Pahaliah o | o Zultana
Aglaia o | o Zoraida o | o Lulajeta

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