Post by Cait on Mar 27, 2015 18:40:43 GMT -8
Shoki
Middle of nowhere; circa Telgar Weyr
77.03.15
It had been at least a fortnight since her father had died. Maybe more. It was hard to keep track. The other from the crofthold would come check on her once a sevenday or there abouts, but how many times had they been to see her? Well at least twice. The gave her strange looks but she didn't know why. She didn't realize that it was strange to recover from the death of a parent, her sole surviving parent in a matter of days. But it wasn't that she was recovered but that she wasn't prone to extended bouts of melancholy. What good would it do? Her father wouldn't want her to be unhappy, that much she knew. So she had found things to do that would amuse her or make her feel better and she'd done them.
Mostly painting or hunting for ingredients for her paint making experiments. The weather was starting to get a bit warmer so it made it a little easier. But it was more the staying busy and active that kept her from dwelling too much on things. Then there were preparations for spring planting and well, she wasn't entirely certain what was going to happen after that. There had never been a conversation about what would happen after her father died. The only thing regarding her future that her father had said was "Be good. A dragon will come for you, you will be cared for."
A bit vague but Ailys liked the idea of being able to meet a dragon. On occasion she saw one or two fly over the crofthold but they were always so high that she barely knew what color they were. But she imagined that they looked somewhat like firelizards so that was what her paintings were modeled after. Her father's pink had disappeared after he'd died and Ailys missed her as well, but she liked to think that the flit was happy wherever she was.
But now it was her turnday and Ailys found herself at a bit of a loss as to what to do with herself. In the end she'd settled for taking out some of her paints and painting the stones that ringed the garden. It was something she did every year and now was as good a time as any. Of course this required hauling them into the large room that made up most of her home...the thought made her pause with a stone the size of two large hands fisted together cradled between both of her small hands. It was her house. Hers alone. It was a sad thought and so she shook her head and shuffled into the house to dump the rock into a bucket of sudsy water with a satisfying plunk. "Alright, let's get you washed up and put by the fire to dry. Then we have to clean up your siblings." She grabbed a scrub brush and started scrubbing. Old paint and a turn's worth of muck was washed away. Her father had always called her silly for washing rocks but she liked having a clean canvas for when she painted something.
Middle of nowhere; circa Telgar Weyr
77.03.15
It had been at least a fortnight since her father had died. Maybe more. It was hard to keep track. The other from the crofthold would come check on her once a sevenday or there abouts, but how many times had they been to see her? Well at least twice. The gave her strange looks but she didn't know why. She didn't realize that it was strange to recover from the death of a parent, her sole surviving parent in a matter of days. But it wasn't that she was recovered but that she wasn't prone to extended bouts of melancholy. What good would it do? Her father wouldn't want her to be unhappy, that much she knew. So she had found things to do that would amuse her or make her feel better and she'd done them.
Mostly painting or hunting for ingredients for her paint making experiments. The weather was starting to get a bit warmer so it made it a little easier. But it was more the staying busy and active that kept her from dwelling too much on things. Then there were preparations for spring planting and well, she wasn't entirely certain what was going to happen after that. There had never been a conversation about what would happen after her father died. The only thing regarding her future that her father had said was "Be good. A dragon will come for you, you will be cared for."
A bit vague but Ailys liked the idea of being able to meet a dragon. On occasion she saw one or two fly over the crofthold but they were always so high that she barely knew what color they were. But she imagined that they looked somewhat like firelizards so that was what her paintings were modeled after. Her father's pink had disappeared after he'd died and Ailys missed her as well, but she liked to think that the flit was happy wherever she was.
But now it was her turnday and Ailys found herself at a bit of a loss as to what to do with herself. In the end she'd settled for taking out some of her paints and painting the stones that ringed the garden. It was something she did every year and now was as good a time as any. Of course this required hauling them into the large room that made up most of her home...the thought made her pause with a stone the size of two large hands fisted together cradled between both of her small hands. It was her house. Hers alone. It was a sad thought and so she shook her head and shuffled into the house to dump the rock into a bucket of sudsy water with a satisfying plunk. "Alright, let's get you washed up and put by the fire to dry. Then we have to clean up your siblings." She grabbed a scrub brush and started scrubbing. Old paint and a turn's worth of muck was washed away. Her father had always called her silly for washing rocks but she liked having a clean canvas for when she painted something.