Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
25.Oct.20, 08:06 PM
What, in all the Holds and Weyrs of Pern, was he doing?
Alekse climbed into his bed that night, exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep worth a mark. Handsome crooned at him from the end of the bed, eyes whirling slowly yellow with anxiety. Staring at the ceiling, he ran the events of the previous day in his head, trying to sort through them.
Booze. Wine, mostly. But not enough to be drunk. Then he browsed the booths, looking for his sister, either a gift for her or actually trying to find the girl, thinking she’d be there somewhere. He’d made some wagers at the tracks, and signed himself up as a competitor for a sporting event later in the week. Shards, he’d almost forgotten about that…
Then he wandered over to the dance floor…
Zahrah.
Faranth flying above.
He heaved himself to his feet and pulled on his thin leather shoes. The air was cool, but he’d be moving, so he wouldn’t need more than his standard light shirt. The brisk air would do him good, anyway. Grabbing his message pouch from the chair by the curtain he swept silently out of the sleeping room, careful not to wake any of the others that crowded the small area.
In the main living space he found the station master dutifully, if a bit tiredly, tending to the hearth. He smiled wanly at the man, who offered a weary chuckle in return. “Did you ever find that sister of yours, Runner?”
Alekse walked over to the fire where he helped himself to a cup of klah. “Not yet. Tomorrow, I’m sure. If not, I’ll run up to the Weyr myself.” He sipped at the warm beverage, slowly considering the man. Josu. Probably nearly sixty turns, but still fit and trim. The only thing that gave away his age was the greying in his hair, the silver strands most prominent at his temples. He’d known this man for as long as he could remember, being this close to this station. A thought occurred to him, and he pulled up a stool, curious. “Josu,” He furrowed his brow. “You always call me ‘runner’…” He stared into his mug, laughing quietly to himself. “Do you actually know my name?” The older man paused to consider before answering in the affirmative, and Alekse quirked his eyebrows in question.
Josu stirred the coals, resurrecting the flames and sending them crackling. His sun-dried and wind-beaten face reflected the firelight, his smile growing. “Alekse. When you see upwards of twenty runners a day, often times more, moving about as fast as a dragon going between, you don’t risk messing up a name by trying to remember it. Particularly when you’ve been awake early and are up late. Even with someone you’ve known since they could walk. ‘Runner’ works for everyone that comes through here.”
As if to push the point, a man fresh off of a night run hopped up onto the porch outside, lightly pushing open the front door, and Josu rose to meet him. “Good evening, Runner. Here, there’s water in that jug and fresh fruit from the gather on the table. Rest, refresh, and then check into a cot for the night. I’ll take care of that pouch for you.” He ushered the man toward the table, who shrugged him off.
“No,” the man said. Alekse didn’t recognize him other than as a passing face on the traces. “This pouch is urgent. It needs to head east as quick as feet can take it. Just some water and I’ll run it to 299.” The man was tired and needed some rest. He’d been running for a while, clearly. Runners knew how to pace themselves to avoid exhaustion, and either this man was new to the craft, unlikely, or he’d simply been running for longer than even a seasoned runner can pace themselves.
Alekse stood and downed the last of his klah. “No, let me take it. 299 isn’t more than hour or so up the trace at a lope. I’ll make the run.” He stood and took the bundle from the other runner, signing and marking the date of transfer on the slip inside before sliding it into his own pouch. The other runner hesitated briefly, but relented as Josu herded him toward the bathing room, commenting on the swelling of the other runner’s knee, and how a good soak would do him wonders. Alekse looked questioningly at the older man, who nodded emphatically back at him.
“You go. I’ll log your time. You’ll be back, yeah?”
“Absolutely.” With a final adjustment of his belt and pouch and picking up one of the small water skins from where it rested by the door for just these instances, Alekse bounded off of the porch.
He started off at a brisk walk as he fastened the water skin to his belt, allowing his muscles to warm up before slipping into a neat, energy conserving jog. He’s save his lope for the flatter part of the trace up ahead. He thought of Aederyn. She’d have hit her loping stride already and wouldn’t even be winded by the time she got to 299. He had to work for that gait. Nobody could run like that girl.
One of the moons was already high in the night sky, the other just peeking above the horizon. It would be a bright night, and perfect for running. The light wind snatched at his hair and shirt, and he inhaled deeply, the cool air stinging his lungs. It was bracing, invigorating. He felt like he could run forever. Fully alert, Alekse pushed himself into the knee-raising, mile-eating lope that the best runners were known for. It was freeing, and for a fleeting moment he felt like he was the only living thing on Pern.
And he was planning to give this up. Well, not exactly that…he was planning to take on more of the management, he amended, making his actual running secondary. He had thought he would run until he physically could not run anymore. He assumed he’d be on the traces for his entire life, yet here he was, planning for his Mastery. In Benden. To be a station master. He thought back on Josu, and how the man seemed to have everything together, including the little tricks like calling everyone ‘runner’. Could he do that? He sifted through the knowledge of all he knew, watching his parents and other station masters…he had helped his father reseed the delicate mossy traces near their station. He’d watched him barter for materials and the use of a herdbeast to haul them to a thread shelter that needed maintenance, and helped him with the work. He’d pored over the timetables and maps that he himself had helped to create. He remembered his father’s drawn face when a runner was expelled from the craft for opening a message addressed to another, and how much that affected him to the point of being so obsessive over it that he wouldn’t even glance at any visible names in a bundle for risk of violating privacy and trust between the message writer, the runners, and the recipient. He’d watched countless station masters and their wives tend to breaks and sprains and swellings, overheating and even hypothermia. He’d picked up enough of those skills that, while not a healer, he could handle the basics.
He had experience…why hadn’t he done anything with it until now?
He was ready for it.
And Benden would be a good place to start. He’d still be learning as the area grew, and, he hoped, both he and the expanding runner network there could grow together.
With Zahrah.
For the love of little green dragons…
Alekse stumbled, tripping over his own feet as a stitch flared in his side. He hopped to keep his balance and stumbled to the side of the trace, digging a knuckle into the complaining muscles. Handsome dove from overhead, scolding, and he waved the firelizard away. The creature was useful for warnings of obstacles or other runners, as well as to ferry short, small messages on occasion, but at times he just sounded like a complaining old aunt.
He swished and spit a mouthful of water before carefully measuring a long sip, catching his breath and picking up at a brisk walk. He looked skyward and saw both moons fully overhead. More time had passed than he thought. Was that how Ryn did it?
Hm…Zahrah. The woman was something, to be sure. He reflected back on the flirting and freely given kisses, and thought perhaps he’d let himself get too far into the game this time and he felt a momentary pang of guilt and dread in his stomach…but then he remembered their conversation of finding home and family, and how they just worked so well together, and the rock in his stomach was replaced with giddy smile on his face. He was insane. Or dreaming. Or both.
Either way, he was committed. The more he considered it, the more he confirmed how ready he was to run a station and really do what he could to further the craft. He’d had ideas he’d hoped to implement, and as a station master he had a far better chance of being able to do so.
And if Zahrah was by his side, all the better.
The stitch in his side gone, he picked up again to a jog and reached 299 minutes later. He noted the check-in board on the wall, and thought, in his station, he’d move it closer to the door. A brief break to drink and refill the water skin, and he headed back to 300 at Fort, though he never did quite replicate that loping trance.
Alekse climbed into his bed that night, exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep worth a mark. Handsome crooned at him from the end of the bed, eyes whirling slowly yellow with anxiety. Staring at the ceiling, he ran the events of the previous day in his head, trying to sort through them.
Booze. Wine, mostly. But not enough to be drunk. Then he browsed the booths, looking for his sister, either a gift for her or actually trying to find the girl, thinking she’d be there somewhere. He’d made some wagers at the tracks, and signed himself up as a competitor for a sporting event later in the week. Shards, he’d almost forgotten about that…
Then he wandered over to the dance floor…
Zahrah.
Faranth flying above.
He heaved himself to his feet and pulled on his thin leather shoes. The air was cool, but he’d be moving, so he wouldn’t need more than his standard light shirt. The brisk air would do him good, anyway. Grabbing his message pouch from the chair by the curtain he swept silently out of the sleeping room, careful not to wake any of the others that crowded the small area.
In the main living space he found the station master dutifully, if a bit tiredly, tending to the hearth. He smiled wanly at the man, who offered a weary chuckle in return. “Did you ever find that sister of yours, Runner?”
Alekse walked over to the fire where he helped himself to a cup of klah. “Not yet. Tomorrow, I’m sure. If not, I’ll run up to the Weyr myself.” He sipped at the warm beverage, slowly considering the man. Josu. Probably nearly sixty turns, but still fit and trim. The only thing that gave away his age was the greying in his hair, the silver strands most prominent at his temples. He’d known this man for as long as he could remember, being this close to this station. A thought occurred to him, and he pulled up a stool, curious. “Josu,” He furrowed his brow. “You always call me ‘runner’…” He stared into his mug, laughing quietly to himself. “Do you actually know my name?” The older man paused to consider before answering in the affirmative, and Alekse quirked his eyebrows in question.
Josu stirred the coals, resurrecting the flames and sending them crackling. His sun-dried and wind-beaten face reflected the firelight, his smile growing. “Alekse. When you see upwards of twenty runners a day, often times more, moving about as fast as a dragon going between, you don’t risk messing up a name by trying to remember it. Particularly when you’ve been awake early and are up late. Even with someone you’ve known since they could walk. ‘Runner’ works for everyone that comes through here.”
As if to push the point, a man fresh off of a night run hopped up onto the porch outside, lightly pushing open the front door, and Josu rose to meet him. “Good evening, Runner. Here, there’s water in that jug and fresh fruit from the gather on the table. Rest, refresh, and then check into a cot for the night. I’ll take care of that pouch for you.” He ushered the man toward the table, who shrugged him off.
“No,” the man said. Alekse didn’t recognize him other than as a passing face on the traces. “This pouch is urgent. It needs to head east as quick as feet can take it. Just some water and I’ll run it to 299.” The man was tired and needed some rest. He’d been running for a while, clearly. Runners knew how to pace themselves to avoid exhaustion, and either this man was new to the craft, unlikely, or he’d simply been running for longer than even a seasoned runner can pace themselves.
Alekse stood and downed the last of his klah. “No, let me take it. 299 isn’t more than hour or so up the trace at a lope. I’ll make the run.” He stood and took the bundle from the other runner, signing and marking the date of transfer on the slip inside before sliding it into his own pouch. The other runner hesitated briefly, but relented as Josu herded him toward the bathing room, commenting on the swelling of the other runner’s knee, and how a good soak would do him wonders. Alekse looked questioningly at the older man, who nodded emphatically back at him.
“You go. I’ll log your time. You’ll be back, yeah?”
“Absolutely.” With a final adjustment of his belt and pouch and picking up one of the small water skins from where it rested by the door for just these instances, Alekse bounded off of the porch.
He started off at a brisk walk as he fastened the water skin to his belt, allowing his muscles to warm up before slipping into a neat, energy conserving jog. He’s save his lope for the flatter part of the trace up ahead. He thought of Aederyn. She’d have hit her loping stride already and wouldn’t even be winded by the time she got to 299. He had to work for that gait. Nobody could run like that girl.
One of the moons was already high in the night sky, the other just peeking above the horizon. It would be a bright night, and perfect for running. The light wind snatched at his hair and shirt, and he inhaled deeply, the cool air stinging his lungs. It was bracing, invigorating. He felt like he could run forever. Fully alert, Alekse pushed himself into the knee-raising, mile-eating lope that the best runners were known for. It was freeing, and for a fleeting moment he felt like he was the only living thing on Pern.
And he was planning to give this up. Well, not exactly that…he was planning to take on more of the management, he amended, making his actual running secondary. He had thought he would run until he physically could not run anymore. He assumed he’d be on the traces for his entire life, yet here he was, planning for his Mastery. In Benden. To be a station master. He thought back on Josu, and how the man seemed to have everything together, including the little tricks like calling everyone ‘runner’. Could he do that? He sifted through the knowledge of all he knew, watching his parents and other station masters…he had helped his father reseed the delicate mossy traces near their station. He’d watched him barter for materials and the use of a herdbeast to haul them to a thread shelter that needed maintenance, and helped him with the work. He’d pored over the timetables and maps that he himself had helped to create. He remembered his father’s drawn face when a runner was expelled from the craft for opening a message addressed to another, and how much that affected him to the point of being so obsessive over it that he wouldn’t even glance at any visible names in a bundle for risk of violating privacy and trust between the message writer, the runners, and the recipient. He’d watched countless station masters and their wives tend to breaks and sprains and swellings, overheating and even hypothermia. He’d picked up enough of those skills that, while not a healer, he could handle the basics.
He had experience…why hadn’t he done anything with it until now?
He was ready for it.
And Benden would be a good place to start. He’d still be learning as the area grew, and, he hoped, both he and the expanding runner network there could grow together.
With Zahrah.
For the love of little green dragons…
Alekse stumbled, tripping over his own feet as a stitch flared in his side. He hopped to keep his balance and stumbled to the side of the trace, digging a knuckle into the complaining muscles. Handsome dove from overhead, scolding, and he waved the firelizard away. The creature was useful for warnings of obstacles or other runners, as well as to ferry short, small messages on occasion, but at times he just sounded like a complaining old aunt.
He swished and spit a mouthful of water before carefully measuring a long sip, catching his breath and picking up at a brisk walk. He looked skyward and saw both moons fully overhead. More time had passed than he thought. Was that how Ryn did it?
Hm…Zahrah. The woman was something, to be sure. He reflected back on the flirting and freely given kisses, and thought perhaps he’d let himself get too far into the game this time and he felt a momentary pang of guilt and dread in his stomach…but then he remembered their conversation of finding home and family, and how they just worked so well together, and the rock in his stomach was replaced with giddy smile on his face. He was insane. Or dreaming. Or both.
Either way, he was committed. The more he considered it, the more he confirmed how ready he was to run a station and really do what he could to further the craft. He’d had ideas he’d hoped to implement, and as a station master he had a far better chance of being able to do so.
And if Zahrah was by his side, all the better.
The stitch in his side gone, he picked up again to a jog and reached 299 minutes later. He noted the check-in board on the wall, and thought, in his station, he’d move it closer to the door. A brief break to drink and refill the water skin, and he headed back to 300 at Fort, though he never did quite replicate that loping trance.
