Post by tovaana on Aug 31, 2020 18:51:49 GMT -5
Treyvin & Ceela
“Trrreyyyyyyvinnnnn! Treytreytrey!”
A happy voice and personality interrupted his reverie. He blinked up from his book to see a familiar blonde in his face, way too close. What was it with this girl and personal bubbles? He cleared his throat and shifted, so she wasn’t so close to him.
She blinked at him expectedly.
“Uhm, yes?” He asked quietly, trying to hold the annoyance from his voice. It was easy though when she flooded him with her ever-enthusiastic mood. Her personality and moods were like flowing water. Never stagnant, always colorful- and it sometimes made him feel like he was drowning. He had moved out of the candidate barracks, but somehow she had found out about him and showed up every once in a while. She’d invite him to classes or candidate gatherings- and to the Gathering itself…His constant refusals didn’t seem to deter the woman.
“The flit egggggs! Haella said we can go get them now!” She moved away from him, but her excitement still pressed against him as if she were still there.
He could discern some of his own excitement and nervousness in his stomach, layered underneath the emotional noise around him. He wished every hatching were like this – handed an egg that you knew would impress to you. No need for anticipation, crowds, and disappointment.
“Well?”
She was grinning at him.
“You can’t say no this time.”
A shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. She wasn’t wrong. He rolled his eyes slightly as he picked up his book, but Ceela grabbed it out of his hands and tossed it on the couch. He winced and glanced at it to make sure it was okay before leaving.
She grabbed his wrist and pulled him along. When she touched him it felt almost like a physical shock, as if the touch itself was the connection between feelings and his mind. He had tugged backward instinctively, but Ceela hardly noticed as she skipped along, her hand simply moving to his hand. He was not going to skip.
He cleared his throat and tugged his hand out of Ceela’s with a sigh as they neared the Senior’s weyr. It felt strange, being part of the weyr life, but disconnected from it at the same time. He glanced at Ceela who hadn’t paused a step, knocking lightly on the open door almost at the same moment she stepped in.
Every normal boy dreamed of finding flit eggs on the beach; not that it meant they got to keep any of them, but because of the chance you’d be allowed one as a reward for finding them. He knew a boy or two who had kept an egg anyways, but Treyvin had never been that lucky to find a clutch. Now was his chance, and he had to remind himself that accepting the prize egg didn’t mean he had to go back on the sands. He was actually enjoying himself on the docks. Perhaps his destiny was to be there – that being searched hadn’t been to be a dragonrider, but to just be on Mavros. And what if his dad returned? Like Yva had said he would? There was no way he was leaving until he at least got to meet his father, what if he could sail the seas with him? Go on adventures with his new flit and father. So, what if his adventure had started as him being searched, it didn't mean it was destiny, right?
“You okay, Trey?”
He blinked, realizing he was standing outside the door, Ceela had a pot of sand in one arm, but there was slight concern ebbing through her water-like aura.
“Treyvin, it’s Treyvin.” Shells, why did she have to keep making seem like they were best friends. “I’m fine, thanks.” He felt a stab of guilt and smiled, passing her to go into the Senior’s weyr. Melana was there, unclaimed pots with assumed eggs inside were about her, and a few others had shown up to claim their eggs too. He felt a little bashful in her presence. It had been some of her dragon’s eggs that hadn’t wanted her. Shame? Maybe she wouldn’t recognize him. He quickly came up, avoiding eye contact, but he was unable to ignore her casual mood with the undercurrent of annoyance. In a panic he glanced up at her, but was relieved that she wasn’t looking at him – the annoyance must have been for something else – not to the fact that he had failed to impress to one of her eggs.
As quickly as possible he left the room, the weight of the clay pot in his arms reminded him of what he had won. A flit egg! His own firelizard! He could feel that there was a personality forming within, but it wasn’t clear – a muddled sort of feeling. He distractedly made his way back to his bed where he would spend the evening trying to figure out what he was feeling coming from the egg.