Collection Of Memories
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: Leigh M-F.
Date Posted: 20th July 2013
Characters: A'kua
Description: Reminiscing
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 1, day 3 of Turn 7
Much as he would rather keep putting it off, it was time to clean up his sleeping area. Come the evening free time, Aluka collected some rags, a broom and dustpan, and a sack to put his laundry in. After dusting with the rags -one always dusted first-, he put his dirty clothes in the sack, then took the blanket off the cot and gave it a good shake. He went to place it in the sack as well, only to stop and stare at the blanket. His mother had made it for him when he was young. Since she hadn't been allowed to use a loom, she'd had to make it out of whatever scraps she could find. It wasn't much to look at; mostly haphazard patches of brown, gray and white, but it had been so comfortable to sleep on when he had been holdless.
Aluka brought the blanket close, giving it a squeeze, and very gently tucked it into the sack. Next he knelt, reaching under his bed, and pulled out a rucksack, which he placed on the bed. Opening it, he withdrew his gitar, stolen from the harper who had taught him how to play. It had been his favorite to work on, so the tall redhead had taken it with him. He had debated taking it with him, when he needed supplies more than an instrument, but in the end, wanting his own gitar had won out. It hadn't weighed him down much, and he had played it until his fingertips were raw once he was free to sing whatever he liked. He could write whatever he liked, too, and the red leather-bound book he had also stolen proved it.
Next he pulled out the knife, waterbag and small tent he had stolen, and his last fourth-Mark. The money and the tools had also served him well. It had been so wonderful, relying on himself and being free. Surviving in the trees and open air had been a challenge, one he relished, especially when it turned out to be less stressful than living in Bex. Aluka remembered how good it had felt to realize he hadn't had a headache in four days, after some of the best damn sleep of his life.
Next he withdrew a smaller bag, from which he brought out a braid of hair that matched his in color, wound in a circle. Aluka sobered, turning it over in his hands. It was some of his mother's hair, cut from the back of her neck after she had died. Ancients, Shastia had been such a lovely woman before she turned into a full-blown alcoholic and wasted away. It still made him angry sometimes. If she had borne the other holders' abuse for so long, why hadn't she kept on living, if only for his sake? When had it become too much for her? When it became too much, why didn't she leave with him?
Maybe she had been hoping the Harper would come back one day.
Aluka sighed. He'd never know the answers now, and all he had left of Shastia was the braid, the memories, and the resemblance he saw every time he looked in the mirror. Her hair, her complexion, her dark eyes. That would have to be enough. He pressed the braid against his heart, then slowly returned it to the bag and rucksack. Methodically, he put everything away, laying it on his bed before briskly sweeping the floor, getting into every nook and cranny he could. He dumped the dust and pebbles in his trash bin and put the broom and dustpan aside, stuffed his laundry where it needed to go, and slung the sack over his shoulder as he walked out to take care of it all.
Life went on. It always would. And he would feel better in the morning.
Last updated on the September 3rd 2013