15.Mar.13, 02:56 PM
He listened to Isscer's story, piecing together what was left unsaid. There wasn't much to piece together. Isscer had planned it all, but had chickened out at the last minute from fear. And, apparently he hadn't tried since.
"You have a kid? Fargles, why didn't you tell me? What's its name? How old is it? Where is it?", he bombarded Isscer with as many questions as he felt surprised. "What's it like being a dad?", he added, as he adjusted to the realization that his newfound bachelor friend was not exactly the bachelor he had envisioned. "You have a weyrmate then?", it was worth asking. He was genuinely curious. It had been some time since he'd had one himself, and thinking about it rekindled some distant, tiny flame. He wanted to tell Isscer about his girl back home at his Weyr, and the child he may or may not have. But he realized he'd already done so.
His eyes grew wide as Isscer had suddenly jumped on him with accusations. "What!? No! I just wanted to -", he cut himself off. He just had wanted to talk about it. Like a sissy girl. Only sissy girls talked about their feelings. According to the Masculine Men's Codex of Life, it was the men, the real men, the manly men, who acted. Feelings were for the weak. He had been weak. And now he was in the midst of escape plans.
His rake dropped out of his hands as he emphatically moved his hands in a stopping, waving motion. "No no no... I just don't know what I want. I'm ... apathetic. About everything. I can't make up my mind about anything.", he spoke quickly. "I do know that I don't want any lashes.", and it was true, perhaps the one true thing that he knew.
He went to create another raking motion in the sand, but as he did so, something didn't seem right. He looked at his hands. There was no rake but empty air where it had been. He quizzically glanced down at his feet. He caught sight of the handle of the rake, bent on one knee to retrieve it, placed it in his hands properly, and repeated the raking motion he'd originally intended.
"You have a kid? Fargles, why didn't you tell me? What's its name? How old is it? Where is it?", he bombarded Isscer with as many questions as he felt surprised. "What's it like being a dad?", he added, as he adjusted to the realization that his newfound bachelor friend was not exactly the bachelor he had envisioned. "You have a weyrmate then?", it was worth asking. He was genuinely curious. It had been some time since he'd had one himself, and thinking about it rekindled some distant, tiny flame. He wanted to tell Isscer about his girl back home at his Weyr, and the child he may or may not have. But he realized he'd already done so.
His eyes grew wide as Isscer had suddenly jumped on him with accusations. "What!? No! I just wanted to -", he cut himself off. He just had wanted to talk about it. Like a sissy girl. Only sissy girls talked about their feelings. According to the Masculine Men's Codex of Life, it was the men, the real men, the manly men, who acted. Feelings were for the weak. He had been weak. And now he was in the midst of escape plans.
His rake dropped out of his hands as he emphatically moved his hands in a stopping, waving motion. "No no no... I just don't know what I want. I'm ... apathetic. About everything. I can't make up my mind about anything.", he spoke quickly. "I do know that I don't want any lashes.", and it was true, perhaps the one true thing that he knew.
He went to create another raking motion in the sand, but as he did so, something didn't seem right. He looked at his hands. There was no rake but empty air where it had been. He quizzically glanced down at his feet. He caught sight of the handle of the rake, bent on one knee to retrieve it, placed it in his hands properly, and repeated the raking motion he'd originally intended.