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Introspection; Standalone
Topic Started: May 22 2015, 12:08 AM (115 Views)
Skyedestiny
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1/2 the Skies of Pern
After Imelda and Imelsk had bonded, they had returned to the Wherhandler Quarters. Namely, the common room. And there they sat, staring each other down. It was hardly conventional of how Impression, even to whers, normally went. There was typically some joy derived from the process. Imelda felt the typical shock but nothing more could seem to be wrest from her.

The same could be said of Imelsk. The Blue hadn't expected to end up bonded to another person, though he knew he had in the past. But when he did, he took no joy in seeing the other person. The typical warmth of lives being tied together, or destinies becoming entwined was present. But it felt just like sitting next to a fire - just like now. There was the acknowledgment that it was there - it was somewhat soothing. But it brought with it no great joy, to those who were accustomed to such a luxury.

Their staring wasn't confrontational. But it held questions. Vague questions. Vague questions and vague acceptance and if one could ascertain any one thing from this scenario it was the word 'grey'.

Still, they sat in silence. Until Imelsk broke that silence. Imelda want fight. Not think Imelsk can. His words were blunt and to the point. If there was one thing that shocked her about the wher's statement, it was that he had already taken her name into his own.

Imelda answered the Blue's assumption with a simple, "No."

But he went on. Imelsk fight, he said. Imelsk fight all the time. Bandits teach. Bandits make.

"I don't want to fight." Her words came sharp this time. Imelsk afforded her with a few moments of silence.

Why Imelda lie? he asked. Imelsk tell. Can feel. We bond. Imelsk feel lie, feel want to fight.

She was adamant, though. "I don't." Imelsk was right, of course. It was a lie. But there would be no admitting it from Imelda, it seemed. "We can't anyway. We've been put into Brass." And she held herself a little tighter on the chair on which she sat. She looked into the fire, looking back into what felt like an entire other lifetime as she spoke. "That means we're support. Back lines."

The words were ringed with disappointment. Eventually, she turned back to face the plum-colored Blue. "We're to work in the mines."

But Imelsk couldn't understand why. Imelda no want. He was certain about that. There was no desire in his handler to work there. Admittedly, some small part of the Blue found himself excited at the prospect of heading into the tunnels. But if his handler didn't want it, why on Pern should they be doing that?

"That doesn't matter," said Imelda. Her eyes were, once again, away from the wher and on the fire.

Silence. Then, They no think Imelsk can fight?

"No," she answered immediately. "We're working there because they know you can. Just not how they prefer."

This upset Imelsk. They weren't denying his skills, but they were refusing to let him hone them. And on top of that, they had stirred ill feelings in his handler. Even if he didn't exactly like the woman, this angered him greatly, if only on principle. He growled.

Feeling the wher's emotions, Imelda's blank expression turned into a frown. "I understand why they're doing it this way," she said. And though she didn't voice the second part of her sentiment, it was clear in her thoughts, and even her physicality: Don't be mad at them.

"Besides. You've had enough fighting." It may not have been what Imelda wanted, but it was the truth. The wher was old, she could tell. And he had a good deal of his turns with the bandits, raiding and squabbling. "You don't want to do that anymore, do you?"

It may not have entirely sounded like a question. It sounded as if Imelda already knew the answer. But not once had Imelsk been asked this in the past. So not once had he given a verbal answer any thought. His feelings had always been strong, even when he had been completely integrated into the life of raiding. But not often - almost never - did he voice them. There was a pause, and then, a nearly silent, No.

The word sounded almost soft. Nearly wounded. Silence fell back between the pair. Now it was slightly more peaceful, though tension still hung heavy in the atmosphere. Time passed, and eventually, Imelsk lay down, letting out a worldweary yawn. Ever so slowly, almost cautiously, he lowered his head to the ground.

Imelda knew they couldn't fall asleep here. But they could rest here for a time. Looking over Imelsk's form, thoughtfully, she returned her gaze to the fire. This was life now. This was her path. Their path. She would deal, and she would make it work, just as she always had.
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