Post by tovaana on Sept 20, 2019 11:46:24 GMT -5
Treyvin;
Alone time. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but it seemed more common since he didn’t impress on the sands.
He let out a ‘umph’ as he fell backward into a dune, sliding down as the sand gave way. It was in the afternoon, the awkward time between noon meal being cleaned up already and evening meal not quite ready for preparations… or at least, not for his help. He had never really been interested in cooking food, he had always preferred seeing herbs go into a concoction for healing purposes. It wasn’t a horrible chore, but it was the chore that they most often roped him into. Unfortunately it was a chore that did not accent any of his strengths… except that he did know what the herbs were, that was about the extent of his contribution. The rest of the time he was ordered about and instructed what to do. It was overwhelming enough to be doing something he was uncomfortable doing, but it seemed to throw him off kilter when it came to emotions…
So alone was good. It let him shed the layers of frustration that emanated from the cooks when he did something wrong, or sympathy – probably because he hadn’t impressed. It was one of the things about emotions that frustrated him. Emotions minus the thoughts were just one side of the story, so he ended up making up stories in his head, since it was inappropriate to ask about them.
Treyvin sighed, clutching the piece of thick driftwood that he had found walking to his chest. He rested his head on the back of the sand dune for a moment, taking in the clear blue sky, trying to let his mind reflect the emptiness above the buzz of the ocean. Then after the worst was emptied, he looked down at the driftwood and pulled a little dagger from the sheath at his side. He didn’t have many things that he owned that were nice, but his mother had saved up for the little knife, since he had showed interest in wood and boats. After fingering the handle of the knife for a moment, he started to slowly carve away at the piece of wood. He shifted into a cross-legged position and aimed the knife away past his knees, the hand that held the wood resting on one knee and the other hacking away at the wood.