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 Posted: Wed Sep 09, 2009 9:23 pm
Howl.
Tyekpo grumbled and shifted in his bed, reaching for his cane and cracking it once against the wall.
The desert winds refused to cease. He could hear them even if the sand wasn't cutting into his skin. It howled endlessly. Outside would be a deadly state of affairs.
Inside, a headache, and that awful noise wasn't much better. The tip of the cane slammed into the ground and an old, grissled man hoisted himself up after it a great deal of time thereafter.
He limped his way out of his musty room, past the peaceful still of hanging leather, and down the corridor. A few cracks and pops from his ligaments were the only protests given from his body.
"Move," he growled at a few youth; whatever age they were, he could not tell, but he was a man on a mission. He was going to the Weyrwoman and demand he have his room moved.
He did this every turn. He never actually made it to the Weyrwoman. Some kid always interrupted him, and then he would forget where he was going.
Not this turn! That young, stupid goldrider who got drug in from some worthless spat of a place was going to hear all about his living quarters.
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2009 10:26 am
"It would serve you well to watch where you are going, old timer," Theron snarked, not bothering to glance at the owner of the voice. He was busy, quite busy, up to his arms in orange and black dyes. Painting his name and the words 'Rising Sun' across hall walls was a ritual for the black-haired youth. And if this old coot thought- Well, he probably didn't think much, by the looks of it.
"It would be a pitty for the wall scrawl to be ruined." A pity for everyone involved.
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Posted: Fri Sep 11, 2009 7:47 am
It was a testament to Theron's voice that Tyekpo stopped with his back to the boy and thought for a moment. Whatever he had been doing suddenly became unimportant.
With slow, meticulous steps, he turned towards the voice and squinted. The boy was a blurry lot of orange. The wall scrawl he had not noticed, but he took a few shaky steps back to look.
It was a very bad wall scrawling (but then everything was bad to Tyekpo). It was also a very blurry wall scrawling.
Eyeing the boy again, Tyekpo didn't hesitate when he brought the back of the cane with a small pop against the posterior edge of the boy's spine. "Straighten up. You look like a broken tunnelsnake. Who taught you wall scrawling? Doesn't matter. They were very bad."
He looked harder at the words that were written, finally managing to get some of them to unblur. What kind of a dumb boy told people the sun was rising? This one.
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Posted: Wed Sep 16, 2009 9:37 am
For a moment, Theron was almost shocked the elderly citizen had the gall to talk back to him. But then, the weyrbrat considered, he probably didn't know better. Good sense was one of those things that with went age, as well as the ability to process a threat, he decided. And then Tyekpo had the nerve to bop him with his walking stick. Theron bristled visibly.
Eyeing the old man over his should, the teenager turned slowly, very slowly, his gaze locked onto the feisty elder. Dye smeared hands dropped to his sides and Theron simply glared for a good minute before he finally deigned the old man worth a spare moment of his time.
"It's supposed to look like this," he replied coldly. "This is Rising Sun's trademark. This is how it is done. And it is very, very good." Theron's eyes narrowed a fraction. No one told him his work was bad. No one.
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