15.Mar.12, 09:19 PM
A cold swim in the stream, after a five hour walk and then a hot bath when she returned. That was how Lymsleia had spent the last few hours. Kitchen duties and building duties, and Healer work had taken its toll on the young woman. Caring for Talian and worrying about B'jin had stressed her. Her eyes bore the signs of sleepless nights as eased herself into the hot water she soaked herself. The bath salts and sand helped to scour her skin clean and for a moment Lymsleia let herself truly relaxed. She hated being out of touch. For the past few days she'd been antsy and worried and nervous.
Talian, & B'jin, though she didn't know the later well, the former was her friend and senior her craft. He'd broken down and lived to tell the tale. He'd live to see another day, he would go on. B'jin, she wasn't sure what role he had in Talian's life by they were close. And she was alone. She had friends- oh Breccan, Talian, she could really count them on one hand- maybe two. B'jin's punishment had left its mark on her, hard and painful it screamed in her veins. The man had been whipped, marked and marred. She'd wanted so badly to stop it, she'd wanted to stop watching the horror but duty and the Weyrleader's announcement that it was a punishment stuck with her. She'd stayed rooted and ever lash B'jin had taken. She let herself drift in hot water, thank for for being clean. She had washed her hair and let her fingers rank through it.
She'd noticed it subtly, the humming. Like a glass of water and drum, the water in the bathing tub bounced. The vibration was soothing, and she started to slip beneath water-until that is she realized what it meant. Humming.. dragons.. The Dragons were humming. They dragons were humming. The EGGS were hatching, that was nice the eggs were....
Lymsleia sat bolt upright as the thought washed over her. It was like being slapped. Her legs and arms felt heavy and struggled to get herself moving, towel and to the sands--- clothing first. She reminded herself. Sturdy boots, and plain pants and a plain shirt. She bolted through the hall ways practically waving her candidate knots as she went for the robes. She grabbed the sheet-like covering and threw it on. Her hair was sopping wet, soaking the back of her robe down around her neckline to the middle of her back, where the last few strands of black hung. She didn't care.
As they were marched out on to the sands Lymsleia scanned the crowd, mayhap her father was there? Maybe.. if he wasn't dead? She drew a breath, she learned the fate of her mother, death.
She shook h the thought from her head and for a moment clutched the medicine bag, and slowly handed it to one of the other healers on the sands. "Hold on to this for me, please." she said nervously. "There's a pounch it there," she began to explain three of the pouches to another healer. "Smelling smells, but a few other others know the not system..." she explained.
"Lymsleia!" a call from one of the other candidates made her turn. "SHELLS!" she yelped realizing the other candidates had already lined themselves up. She remembered the eggs she touched and quietly counted in her mind. Her first Hatching. Her first interaction with real babies-- well baby dragons-- It was like midwifing that first birth all over again, she stilled her self.
She would succeed, she must succeed. She tried to close her eyes and recapture that feeling of clarity that one of the eggs imparted to her. Yes she needed that now.
Lymsleia stepped forward, on to the sands.
Talian, & B'jin, though she didn't know the later well, the former was her friend and senior her craft. He'd broken down and lived to tell the tale. He'd live to see another day, he would go on. B'jin, she wasn't sure what role he had in Talian's life by they were close. And she was alone. She had friends- oh Breccan, Talian, she could really count them on one hand- maybe two. B'jin's punishment had left its mark on her, hard and painful it screamed in her veins. The man had been whipped, marked and marred. She'd wanted so badly to stop it, she'd wanted to stop watching the horror but duty and the Weyrleader's announcement that it was a punishment stuck with her. She'd stayed rooted and ever lash B'jin had taken. She let herself drift in hot water, thank for for being clean. She had washed her hair and let her fingers rank through it.
She'd noticed it subtly, the humming. Like a glass of water and drum, the water in the bathing tub bounced. The vibration was soothing, and she started to slip beneath water-until that is she realized what it meant. Humming.. dragons.. The Dragons were humming. They dragons were humming. The EGGS were hatching, that was nice the eggs were....
Lymsleia sat bolt upright as the thought washed over her. It was like being slapped. Her legs and arms felt heavy and struggled to get herself moving, towel and to the sands--- clothing first. She reminded herself. Sturdy boots, and plain pants and a plain shirt. She bolted through the hall ways practically waving her candidate knots as she went for the robes. She grabbed the sheet-like covering and threw it on. Her hair was sopping wet, soaking the back of her robe down around her neckline to the middle of her back, where the last few strands of black hung. She didn't care.
As they were marched out on to the sands Lymsleia scanned the crowd, mayhap her father was there? Maybe.. if he wasn't dead? She drew a breath, she learned the fate of her mother, death.
She shook h the thought from her head and for a moment clutched the medicine bag, and slowly handed it to one of the other healers on the sands. "Hold on to this for me, please." she said nervously. "There's a pounch it there," she began to explain three of the pouches to another healer. "Smelling smells, but a few other others know the not system..." she explained.
"Lymsleia!" a call from one of the other candidates made her turn. "SHELLS!" she yelped realizing the other candidates had already lined themselves up. She remembered the eggs she touched and quietly counted in her mind. Her first Hatching. Her first interaction with real babies-- well baby dragons-- It was like midwifing that first birth all over again, she stilled her self.
She would succeed, she must succeed. She tried to close her eyes and recapture that feeling of clarity that one of the eggs imparted to her. Yes she needed that now.
Lymsleia stepped forward, on to the sands.