08.Sep.12, 02:05 AM
Mevrit was not the most attractive young woman at the Weyr, and she didn't even particularly stand out in the crowd. She was small, with eyes too big for her face and hair that was rather lackluster. Even her dress was unremarkable, an ankle-length skirt and a long-sleeved knitted top. Her stomach was still just slightly round, even though she had her twins months ago. The weight had initially been shed easily, though now the same amount of work she did daily as she had before did little effect. Mevrit was too busy to really even notice - she supposed it was her own way of coping with the thought that she had abandoned the children she had decided to carry. Keeping her mind and body busy was a distraction, and she took to chores with such readiness that others found it off-putting.
Mevrit supposed that the guilt was natural, but she had already weighed the pros and cons of giving up her twins. She was never going to get anywhere in life if she was weighed down by two bundles of joy. When she held them, she had always felt awkward, always worried that one would slip out of her grasp. All the other women seemed to be able to tell what her children needed better than her as well. The Trader eventually came to the conclusion that some people just weren't meant to raise children, and she was one of them. She hadn't necessarily wanted kids - it just had happened, and one, let alone two, was too much for her to handle. Mevrit could do many things, but being a mother wasn't one of them.
Still, she had to wonder if she had tried hard enough. Usually, she put all of her effort into a task she wanted to accomplish, but she knew she had held back with the twins. Maybe it was because she hadn't wanted them, and felt unready for them. So, she held back, and now she felt slightly ashamed of the fact that she had.
The day's chores had been finished, but Mevrit had never been good at dealing with free time. Even now, she sat alone on a bench, fingering the sleeve of her shirt thoughtfully. The stitching on it was poor, something she should have noticed sooner. Mevrit had a fine eye for quality, but at Katila life was focused more on the essentials. What did it matter if a shirt was stitched poorly or was an ugly color, as long as it was wearable? It put a damper on Mevrit's usual evaluation of items. She wouldn't have worn this top if she had better clothes, but most of what she had owned was left back in the North.
It was a pity, she had a stunning grey top that at times made her actually look pretty. It would have been nice to be able to wear that today.
Did she miss home? It'd be ridiculous to think that she didn't, but as was Mevrit's nature, she had adapted, she had moved on. Katila wasn't really that bad. It had put a damper on her life's ambitions, but she could still make this work out somehow. She'd be even more ashamed of herself if she couldn't.
Mevrit supposed that the guilt was natural, but she had already weighed the pros and cons of giving up her twins. She was never going to get anywhere in life if she was weighed down by two bundles of joy. When she held them, she had always felt awkward, always worried that one would slip out of her grasp. All the other women seemed to be able to tell what her children needed better than her as well. The Trader eventually came to the conclusion that some people just weren't meant to raise children, and she was one of them. She hadn't necessarily wanted kids - it just had happened, and one, let alone two, was too much for her to handle. Mevrit could do many things, but being a mother wasn't one of them.
Still, she had to wonder if she had tried hard enough. Usually, she put all of her effort into a task she wanted to accomplish, but she knew she had held back with the twins. Maybe it was because she hadn't wanted them, and felt unready for them. So, she held back, and now she felt slightly ashamed of the fact that she had.
The day's chores had been finished, but Mevrit had never been good at dealing with free time. Even now, she sat alone on a bench, fingering the sleeve of her shirt thoughtfully. The stitching on it was poor, something she should have noticed sooner. Mevrit had a fine eye for quality, but at Katila life was focused more on the essentials. What did it matter if a shirt was stitched poorly or was an ugly color, as long as it was wearable? It put a damper on Mevrit's usual evaluation of items. She wouldn't have worn this top if she had better clothes, but most of what she had owned was left back in the North.
It was a pity, she had a stunning grey top that at times made her actually look pretty. It would have been nice to be able to wear that today.
Did she miss home? It'd be ridiculous to think that she didn't, but as was Mevrit's nature, she had adapted, she had moved on. Katila wasn't really that bad. It had put a damper on her life's ambitions, but she could still make this work out somehow. She'd be even more ashamed of herself if she couldn't.