08.Mar.13, 02:56 AM
Isscer knew he wasn't thinking clearly, or logically, but it took Oahvakeen's carefully chosen words to calm him down enough that he wouldn't fly off the handle again. Speaking of his stealing was painful, the shock of it still as raw as it had been in the long months spent on Candidate Isle. In the nearly six Turns that Isscer had been at Katila, he still held to the hope of going north again--he couldn't let the atrocities that had been committed against him go, and likely never would.
Oahvakeen was right: no one ever talked about it, no one ever made a point to address the fact that there were many Candidates who had been forcibly Searched. It was a fact that was seemingly brushed aside, and that truly bothered Isscer. "I'm sorry," he apologized, catching Oahvakeen's eye and holding it--it was sincere, and he meant to show that he was indeed sorry. "I should have known better."
He should have, and with every word Oahvakeen spoke Isscer was reminded of how selfish he had been. There was a weyrmate, a child--things that he had never had the chance to have--for Oahvakeen. It was different, but no less painful, and even if Isscer disliked children, he had seen his parents' devotion to their children. His mother had cried when they had taken him to the Farmcrafthall even though she had known it was the best decision for him; perhaps Oahvakeen felt the same way about his child even if he had never had the chance to meet it.
Isscer considered Oahvakeen's for a long, long moment, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He might not have had a weyrmate and child, but that hadn't meant that he had been alone. There were friends, siblings, nieces and nephews--there were people that missed him. "I don't know. I have two brothers and a bunch of nieces and nephews. I had friends." But they might have forgotten him by now, or at least thought him dead.
Oahvakeen's analogy brought a bitter smile to Isscer's mouth, and he huffed a quiet, pained laugh. A lump was forming in his throat, and he cleared it, trying to prevent the sudden emotion. "I know. I feel the same way every day." It wasn't any better now than it had been when Isscer had first arrived; if anything, the sense of despair was worse as time dragged on. "But it isn't who is waiting for me that matters. They tore me from my life, and now I'm forced to be a Candidate when it was something I never would have wanted. I want the freedom to make my own choices, to control my own life--that is what the North means for me." He shrugged, hoping that his jumbled thoughts made sense--he had never voiced his opinions to another, though he thought about his stealing on a daily basis.
"I'm sorry for snapping at you," Isscer said, smiling weakly at him. "If I had known you felt the same as I do, I never would have done it." He truly did mean it, and Isscer took a deliberate step forward, lightly patting Oahvakeen on the shoulder in a way that was meant to be friendly, if a bit stilted in execution. "I like talking to you," he confessed, a hint of a genuine smile tucked into the corners of his mouth. "If you need help avoiding Candidacy, I will do everything I can to help. One good deed deserves another, you know."
Oahvakeen was right: no one ever talked about it, no one ever made a point to address the fact that there were many Candidates who had been forcibly Searched. It was a fact that was seemingly brushed aside, and that truly bothered Isscer. "I'm sorry," he apologized, catching Oahvakeen's eye and holding it--it was sincere, and he meant to show that he was indeed sorry. "I should have known better."
He should have, and with every word Oahvakeen spoke Isscer was reminded of how selfish he had been. There was a weyrmate, a child--things that he had never had the chance to have--for Oahvakeen. It was different, but no less painful, and even if Isscer disliked children, he had seen his parents' devotion to their children. His mother had cried when they had taken him to the Farmcrafthall even though she had known it was the best decision for him; perhaps Oahvakeen felt the same way about his child even if he had never had the chance to meet it.
Isscer considered Oahvakeen's for a long, long moment, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He might not have had a weyrmate and child, but that hadn't meant that he had been alone. There were friends, siblings, nieces and nephews--there were people that missed him. "I don't know. I have two brothers and a bunch of nieces and nephews. I had friends." But they might have forgotten him by now, or at least thought him dead.
Oahvakeen's analogy brought a bitter smile to Isscer's mouth, and he huffed a quiet, pained laugh. A lump was forming in his throat, and he cleared it, trying to prevent the sudden emotion. "I know. I feel the same way every day." It wasn't any better now than it had been when Isscer had first arrived; if anything, the sense of despair was worse as time dragged on. "But it isn't who is waiting for me that matters. They tore me from my life, and now I'm forced to be a Candidate when it was something I never would have wanted. I want the freedom to make my own choices, to control my own life--that is what the North means for me." He shrugged, hoping that his jumbled thoughts made sense--he had never voiced his opinions to another, though he thought about his stealing on a daily basis.
"I'm sorry for snapping at you," Isscer said, smiling weakly at him. "If I had known you felt the same as I do, I never would have done it." He truly did mean it, and Isscer took a deliberate step forward, lightly patting Oahvakeen on the shoulder in a way that was meant to be friendly, if a bit stilted in execution. "I like talking to you," he confessed, a hint of a genuine smile tucked into the corners of his mouth. "If you need help avoiding Candidacy, I will do everything I can to help. One good deed deserves another, you know."