Tired

Writers: Miriah
Date Posted: 5th October 2012

Characters: J'ackt
Description: Jenackt ponders his future
Location: Emerald Falls Hold
Date: month 10, day 14 of Turn 6

J'ackt

The loneliness was getting to him. Day after day of little
more than his own company weighed down his shoulders
with its monotony. For the fifth time that morning, he found
himself cursing his parents for dragging him into a life of
scraping for survival; the worst part was he didn't even
know why.

It had been nearly a turn since his father's death and Jenackt
felt the bite of solitude keenly. He stared around at his small
nook and felt an irrational surge of anger. With a scowl, he
threw a stick of firewood violently against the stone wall. The
clunk of impact wasn't satisfying so he threw another, then
another and another. He finally sat, breathing hard but resisting
the urge to scream out his frustration.

Instead, he simply rested his forehead on one of his knees and
punched the ground lightly. What else could he do? There was
nowhere for him to go. That stupid little girl had made sure that
Emerald Falls wanted him for something he'd not done. Assault
his rear end; all he had been trying to do was get food and he
was the one who ended up injured.

Jenackt sighed and pulled up his head to rest his chin on his knee.
There was nothing else closer and from what he recalled from
Jenasom, the Weyrs were almost as bad as Holds. He fisted a
hand in his hair, tugging it lightly as he thought. Maybe…maybe
he could get on a riverboat again. Find a way to barter for passage
since he didn't have any marks. But where to? Where could he
possibly go? He didn't know anything about any other place!
Would there be anywhere that wouldn't chase him off?

A sharp pain in his scalp made him wince and he lightened his grip
on his hair as he sighed and rubbed the sore spot. He knew, however,
that if he stayed near Emerald Falls, he'd eventually get caught and
that was the last thing he wanted. His shoulders slumped. His father,
for all of his hatred of Holds, had snared him just as badly as the
holders wanted to. He couldn't walk any long distance because he
never knew when Thread would fall. He couldn't go to the Hold
because they wanted his head. He was trapped and Jenackt felt
suffocated by it.

More than anything, he was tired. Tired of constantly being on guard.
Tired of going to sleep hungry. Tired of being alone.

He looked up at his scant belongings and scrubbed his hand over his
face. He then stopped to look at his hand. It was dirty. He frowned
and held up both hands to stare at them. Callused from hard work
and his sword. Scarred across a couple of the knuckles. He rubbed
a finger over one of the scars and then glanced back around at his nook.
He didn't want this to be all that he was. He couldn't see himself
spending Turns like this. Sweet Faranth, he didn't want to spend
Turns scraping for what he could find or steal.

He had to do something. But what? He had to make some sort of plan.
He just didn't know where to start.

Last updated on the November 17th 2012

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Tired