Xanadu Weyr - Stefyr's Room
This is a fairly standard, if small room. It's only large enough to hold a twin bed, a small chest of drawers and a desk with a chair that serves both for any paperwork that might mistakenly have come Stefyr's way and a place to eat. Judging by the omnipresent cup and empty plate, it's probably used more for the latter than the former. There is, however, enough drawers that he might have writing paper and utensils hidden away for non-food purposes. On top of the chest of drawers is a small wash basin, pitcher and washcloth. Leaning carefully behind the basin, braced against the wall is a small, unframed mirror. Though the bed is habitually made, dirty clothes end up more beside the small basket meant for them than in it and boots lay haphazardly about when they're not on their owner's large feet.

It was quiet. His room was always quiet. The loudest it had ever been was when Risali had visited briefly earlier in the evening and that was only because it had contained two people instead of the usual one. His first visitor to the first space that was all his own had stayed maybe ten minutes. Just long enough for them to do an awkward sort of dance where they tried not to brush up against any part of the other in the narrow space while Stefyr fetched a spare shirt and handed it off before stepping outside the door to let her change. Then, it had been off to the barracks and Risali had been on her way after that. He had gone on to meet the Weyrlingmaster and whatever staff was about. Then again on, next to his Harper-boss-slash-tutor to apprise him of the evening's changes.

Now, his room was more quiet than it had ever been, he thought. Though maybe not as quiet as the first night he had been in it. The first night without the familiar sounds of siblings and cousins shifting in their own bunks. That, too, had been a quiet night after a tremendous change. This change was tremendous, too. He rolled on the bed that he was a little too large for and stared in the dark at the only spot of almost light in the room, the white of the knot soaking in the light from under his door and casting it back; it practically glowed.

Risali had said that she and Leirith saw a lot in him. That meant something, something important, even if he could not for the life of him figure out what exactly. That he would make a good rider? Maybe. He had learned that he had a knack for taking care of living things, be them plants, livestock, children or wayward Weyrwomen. He smiled in the dark. He could take care of a dragon. Right? The smile faded into the sea of of his uncertainty.

Shell. He tossed again on the mattress to stare at the dark stone of the wall. How was one man to manage these thoughts alone? How was he to sort out fear from truth? Want from willing? If only he had a distraction, he might be able to sleep. If only he were back in the bunk room at home, he'd be out in heartbeats—

The revelation hit him so hard it slapped him upright, sheet falling to his waist. Bunk room, barracks. Risali had offered him that, hadn't she? She had said he didn't have to, but he could. Grinning like a man half mad (and maybe he was, he had accepted a candidate's knot today after all), he laid back. The barracks. He would go to the barracks. He would probably sleep better there than he had since he arrived at the Weyr on the back of that wagon. Maybe that's why they had a barracks, in part. Those other candidates would be working through some of the same questions that were keeping him awake. Maybe they even had answers. It would save him time and headaches if they would trade their insights. Did he have any to share? That was a question to answer before going.

Resettling his head against his pillow, he began to work through what he knew, what he had learned. What did he have to offer the other candidates?

He knew that even when it seemed like he was dreaming, he was probably awake. Leirith wasn't a sign of twisted nightmare, just herald of her own chaos. He knew, too, that one way or another Risali or Leirith or both together could resolve the chaos alone. They just liked having help. If he was naive on this point, he was none the wiser.

He knew that you could die a lot of different ways in the Weyr, including by touching the wrong plant or speaking with the wrong person in the caverns and choking to death as a consequence.

He knew you could make good friends, friends that would feed you, if you just behaved as a friend and fed them in turn. (And didn't abandon any comrades to boundless paperwork.)

He knew you could suffer the painful consequences of your own stupidity and even friends couldn't stop it. He also knew you could get as much numbweed as you could justify from the healers here if you just looked as pathetic as you felt.

He knew.. . that he hadn't thought of her in a week. Hadn't thought much of about home except in passing conversation. Huh. That was funny. He smiled sleepily.. . and drifted off. In the morning, he would move his things to the barracks.

Add a New Comment
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 License