Post by tovaana on Sept 13, 2021 15:51:43 GMT -5
T2761 P10 T6 M12
Parlhion;He remembered that terrible feeling of entering the Weyr, but now it curled around him with safety. The cool damp air seemed to sap any sunlight that his skin had held, but he didn’t mind. If he was inside the Weyr, he might be surrounded by dragons riders, but they didn’t know what he was, not yet, and there were no dragons. He didn’t have to worry about the draconic race as long as he stayed away from the parts of the Weyr where dragons were healed or away from dragonrider weyrs- both weren’t problems for him, since he’d volunteered his services to the Harpers, who had no need to go to those areas.
With no marks to his name, he couldn’t possibly liven up his own quarters as meager as they were, nor the harper area – that lacked the luster and finesse that Mirran had… well, and space, and… well, it was really unfair to compare the two, it was like comparing a rodent to a dragon, the list of differences could go on and on and on.
Parlhion was grateful he’d at least kept some of his art supplies, since Mavros lacked this severely. The rumors about how art was treated outside of Mirran was not exaggerated and he now wondered almost constantly how he could change that. He’d taken for granted the inks and colors he’d done art with in Mirran and he only wished his circumstances had been different, so he could have raided the Mirran art supplies before leaving. That had seemed the least of his troubles when finding a way to escape his homeland… There was a pang of homesickness he was starting to feel, even if no one there wanted anything to do with him.
He was alone in the room, the harpers out and doing other business, he supposed…or perhaps they were avoiding him and his quiet brooding nature. Either way, the silence was appreciated. His fingers worked with his own pen, copying letters and notes from a piece they’d asked him to make copies of. His piece looked better, and he’d been tempted to add more to the edges, to make a border or something to liven up the boring music copy. His old self would have, something about that nagged at him, but he just stared at the last letters he had copied down with a numb forlornness.
His chair made a scraping noise against the stone floor as he moved back and glanced around the glow-lit room, for the first time missing the way sunlight brought true color out. The desire was quickly quelled, remembering what was out there to face, and he was not ready for it.