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Bittersweet farewell

MOO Time: 2013-05-31 07:27:34
Internet Time: @560 beats
And on Pern ...
Can't tell where you are, so can't figure out the time...
It is the sixty-fourth day of autumn.
It is the twenty-ninth Turn of the Tenth Interval.



Star Stones
With Thread seeming long past, with Pern at the beginning of the Interval, and fall charts long forgotten, this old sentinel is a bit of a charming antiquity, a monument to history: lichens eat at the stone in crevices not latey scrubbed, and firelizards perch in the unblinking socket of the Eye Rock. Only snow lands often on the broad, lower ledge, and only wind climbs the short stair to the top, but the view for the curious is worth it and more, as all the mountains of the Reaches' range spear the sky above, and the Weyr itself lays below, its ring of spires like some great titan's discarded crown.
Balanced in the Eye Rock are three firelizards.
Obvious exits:
Spires' Sky Stairs



The autumn winds whipped through the bowl as Tilla sipped on a steaming mug of her favorite tea. After the comets' desolation, the food stores had been somewhat picked clean, and it was not an easy feat, to procure the once plentiful supplies. Her perch on the Star Stones gave her the perfect vantage point to see most of the weyr, or what was left of it after at least one spire was destroyed.


She wanted to drink it in, all the details of the place that had been her home for the past two decades. Despite the hazy skies impeding a clear view, she intently scanned the bowl, the caverns, the lake, the snow covered peaks.. just anything she could burn into her memory. Resting her free hand on the lichen-encrusted surface of the rock, she closed her eyes and just, breathed. Rukbat's rays had made their mark on the stone, and it was still warm to the touch.


The wind fans her hair, tickling her nose. As her free hand tucked the errant locks behind her ear again, a small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth, remembering how much she cried when she was required to cut her hair during her candidacy in her first turn at the weyr. How strange it all was for a shy Istan teenager dealing with the the boisterous personalities of her candidate group, and the llamas, and the snow. But she had grown to love it and was proud to have faced the trials, tribulations and triumphs of all the turns to come.


Opening her eyes again, Tilla's gaze turns towards his weyr. /His/...the bluerider whose uplifting presence had brightened her life for so many turns. Where was he now? Did he escape the tsunamis that hit Southern Igen? Was he still here, or? She sips down another swig of tea when, in the act of swallowing, the shell necklace, restrung a few times over the turns breaks free and starts to slide down the front of her bodice. Luckily, she's able to catch it with one hand. "Sharding clasp," she mutters, carefully tucking the necklace into her belt pouch. She'll have to fix it later with some help of a needle and thread. And...maybe a stop by the Greenhouse for more dried grass for the cord.

She wondered if Master Yahin and now Master Jastal would even be around the greenhouse today. It was being rebuilt, but very slowly, and with less luxurious materials than before. Understandably, the major crises at hand were still top priority but gone was the rubble and glass, more plants were salvageable than previously thought (and with seed packet backups), and even one or two fish had survived after a thick pane of glass and a wooden beam had crashed into and all but sealed off their pool. The copy of the greenhouse building plans was safely in the hands of those she trusted to take care of it. There were tendrils of hope here, sprouting delicately from the bog of despair and destruction.


<< Tilla >>came the breathy lilt of her lifemate. << Tilla >>
The greenrider takes a moment to answer, snapping herself out of her private musings and bowl gazing all too suddenly. >> Yes? <<
<< Litty is crying because she can't find her favorite doll to pack. Your mom can't find it and.. >> Zings of irritated mint and spicy pepper dot her frazzled mindscape. << It's time >>



Back to reality. She finishes her tea in a few seconds, takes one longing look at her mountain weyr home and decends back down the ladder. Amuirnith would sweep her back up to her weyr ledge where trunks and crates and boxes full of clothes, scrolls and personal effects were all being assembled. All too soon she would finish her errands and the packing and hopefully find the doll, and her son's shoes, and then-

"Mamma?" the little four turn old girl's voice interrupted her, while pulling on her pants leg. "Where's daddy?"

A sad look as Tilla pats her daughter's head. "He's on vacation," she fibbed, knowing that her sharp little girl wouldn't buy it for long. Its been...months since the Istan bronzerider had gone AWOL. Although she was fairly sure he was alive, somewhere, Amuirnith's messages to Tyroth had only been met with vague replies and images of a sandy coastline. "I sent him some letters to let him know where we'll be. And-" she gestures towards the duplicate scroll that has been secured at the entrance of her weyr. "I left one here in case he comes looking for us. I'm sure we'll see him soon."

Tattoo also now tugs at Tilla's /other/ leg. Ah the perks of having twins, "Mamma I haf to pee." Tilla sighs, "Ma, can you?" Lidal emerges from the weyr's entrance, takes the child's hand and leads him toward the latrine. "Litty? You too."


Finally, everything is packed and ready and loaded onto the dragon. Andri the feline is pretty unhappy to be shoved in an insulated box with airholes, but them's the breaks. As they ascend into the air to meet the others, the little girl's voice is barely audible above the shouts and commands of the group leader "Mamma?" Litty asks, trying to look up at Tilla from her perch on Amuirnith's neck, "I'm scared." The greenrider leans forward and kisses the top of Litty's head. "I am too, my love, but we know where we're going and Amuirnith does too. Just... hold on tight, close your eyes and hum the flower song to yourself."


Black...
Blacker...
Blackest...








There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more



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