His Father's Son
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: Jane
Date Posted: 2nd January 2007
Characters: O'rian
Description: Odarian gets home to his room at dawn.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 1, day 3 of Turn 4
Odarian arrived back in his room with a towel wrapped around his hips with his bare feet padding silently on the cool rock. He opened the door and drifted into his room, pleased to be back in his own space. He threw the bundle of clothes he was carrying in one hand into the basket by the door and felt a little relieved to be rid of them. Yesterday's clothes that he'd had to wear back to his usual bathing pool.
"Great night," he assured himself aloud, knowing that he didn't really believe it. Quite a bit to drink and then ending up in the bed of a woman he hardly knew. He raised a hand to rub it along his breastbone under which there was an uncomfortable pain that his healer training couldn't help him with. Wincing at the discomfort that he hadn't been able to shake since waking on the other side of the Weyr he crossed the room to the small mirror on the door of the press.
He reached up for the comb stored on the top of the press and dragged it quickly through his dark hair, thinking automatically that his foster-mother would soon catch sight of him and start nagging him to get it cut. Without meeting his eyes in the glass he put the comb back in its place, not wanting to think what his foster-mother would have to say about his behaviour.
"You're just like your father."
His words echoed in the small room. Of course, she would never say such a thing, but it was what he was thinking – was what was making it impossible for him to look his own reflection in the face. His father's example was a lesson everybody in the Weyr should have learned from, but nobody more than he should have.
He had a craft that he needed to keep working at, especially now he was within a couple of Turns of promotion, and he couldn't afford to get ...
distracted. Distracted from his duty.
He smiled at the thought. It sounded pompous and he wouldn't be caught dead uttering it aloud, but he had a suspicion he meant it. Still smiling he opened the press door, unhitching his towel and slinging it over the door to dry during the day. From the shelves that faced him he selected clean clothes – nicely worn clothes that would be comfortable during the day's work. As he knotted the waist tie of his trousers he tried not to think about the day ahead.
Threadfall. Again.
His head told him he wouldn't be responsible for the injuries caused in the afternoon's 'Fall, and even tried to convince him he wasn't responsible for those six months ago that might well be attributed to his father's decision-making. Pushing one arm and then the other into the washed-thin shirt he knew that it wasn't what his head was telling him that was bothering him. His gut was telling him that he needed to make amends.
Odarian buttoned the shirt from the bottom as his foster-mother had taught him Turns ago. He wasn't hungover, not exactly, but he wasn't feeling as well as he could have and last night he hadn't been thinking about Thread falling the next day at all. As uncomfortable as it made him, he had to acknowledge that he might be very much his father's son.
Last updated on the January 2nd 2007