Post by Alsivor on Sept 4, 2008 21:09:12 GMT -8
Soundtrack: Moments in Love - Art of Noise
Timespan: Late month 8 or thereabouts through month 9.
At first, Silvio tried very hard to keep things discreet. They agreed to meet up in the clearing beyond the creek no more than twice a seven after duties were done, after dark. They held to it for maybe two sevens all told and then they started to slip. She'd catch his eye, usually while visiting the camp to 'shop' fingering the wares at his father's cart. There'd be a note slipped under a scarf to palm as he re-folded the item and a location written for him to find. For him to find /her/ and explore further the path they'd first walked together on that night under the moons. It built up under his skin like the charge of lightning in the air during storm, his longing for her until he felt like he was burning up from the inside out and just couldn't wait anymore.
Then came the day when she wrote something different on the little folded piece of well-scraped hide: "G'tet's Weyr" and there was an arcane set of scribbles to show the path up by stair and ladder, ledge to ledge around the Bowl wall. His eyes lifted and he found it, that long empty ledge, long empty weyr and his breath caught in his throat. After dark, no one would know where he was going. He'd taken to sleeping in Aleda's wagon, waiting for her to come home, keeping her plants watered, though some had died without her tender care to keep them going and he didn't know what to do for them.
That first night, he'd climbed the ladders with trepidation in his throat, slipped into the quiet confines of the stone-walled weyr. It wasn't large, but it was cozy, well put-together and more importantly, she was there, welcoming him in. After that, it became a nightly affair of commuting the constant craving they both felt, the contact that never seemed to be enough, no matter how often they came together.
Silvio was punch drunk with it all, the heady rush of a first love, even if she wasn't his first bedmate. It was different. He couldn't explain why, but it was. Casual partners were fun, but with Genet he felt like he was in a constant state of ecstasy-driven delirium, even when he wasn't with her. Aleda would probably laugh at him if she were here, but she wasn't. And so he just kept going, trying to vaguely stick to the idea of discretion. Milo knew of course, watching his brother he knew where he went every night. Knew what happened when Genet came to the stall to touch things and never buy. But he didn't say anything, just watched and waited to see if somehow Silvio would recover from this madness that seemed to have come over him.
Favio noticed that something was up with his second son, but he paid it little mind. They'd been in the Weyr so long, many of the young Caminar men of a certain age were sowing their wild oats in the lower caverns. It would end when they left and that's all there was to it. In the meantime, he was busily working out a betrothal with one of the other families. He'd given up in disgust about absent Aleda and focused his energies on his son instead. There was time for a wedding yet, before the weather changed.
Oblivious, Silvio climbed the ladders every night and stepped farther and farther away from the ways of his people with every moment spent in Genet's company. New restlessness about the rules seized him and he sometimes felt the need to get out of the Weyr to run around for very different reasons than he had before. Rather than escaping the Weyr, he was escaping the camp, escaping his parents' eyes to brood over the unfairness of the world.
And then the first scare came and he held her, feeling helpless and unsure. What should they do? What /could/ they do? Vague memories of various lectures Aleda had given him swam through his mind and when he next went to her wagon to water and to curl up on her bed and have imaginary conversations with his missing sister, he went through her cubbies and shelves instead, looking and looking for what he thought they needed. Eventually he found Aleda's neat book of recipes, the glossary of herbs and concotions and he read through it all avidly. Five times. Head bursting with ill-understood new knowledge, he still took the right vial from the cubby, brought it to Genet. And they waited. And breathed relief when it all came to nothing.
Silvio read more, went through more of Aleda's supplies, found the sachets of bitter tea and took everything his sister had in stock. Every morning, he told Genet and kissed her fiercely. And things went back to the way they had been even as the leaves began to change on the heights and the nip of chilly air began to be felt in the early morning and after sunset.
Time as ever, was marching on, marching on inexorably towards separation.
Timespan: Late month 8 or thereabouts through month 9.
At first, Silvio tried very hard to keep things discreet. They agreed to meet up in the clearing beyond the creek no more than twice a seven after duties were done, after dark. They held to it for maybe two sevens all told and then they started to slip. She'd catch his eye, usually while visiting the camp to 'shop' fingering the wares at his father's cart. There'd be a note slipped under a scarf to palm as he re-folded the item and a location written for him to find. For him to find /her/ and explore further the path they'd first walked together on that night under the moons. It built up under his skin like the charge of lightning in the air during storm, his longing for her until he felt like he was burning up from the inside out and just couldn't wait anymore.
Then came the day when she wrote something different on the little folded piece of well-scraped hide: "G'tet's Weyr" and there was an arcane set of scribbles to show the path up by stair and ladder, ledge to ledge around the Bowl wall. His eyes lifted and he found it, that long empty ledge, long empty weyr and his breath caught in his throat. After dark, no one would know where he was going. He'd taken to sleeping in Aleda's wagon, waiting for her to come home, keeping her plants watered, though some had died without her tender care to keep them going and he didn't know what to do for them.
That first night, he'd climbed the ladders with trepidation in his throat, slipped into the quiet confines of the stone-walled weyr. It wasn't large, but it was cozy, well put-together and more importantly, she was there, welcoming him in. After that, it became a nightly affair of commuting the constant craving they both felt, the contact that never seemed to be enough, no matter how often they came together.
Silvio was punch drunk with it all, the heady rush of a first love, even if she wasn't his first bedmate. It was different. He couldn't explain why, but it was. Casual partners were fun, but with Genet he felt like he was in a constant state of ecstasy-driven delirium, even when he wasn't with her. Aleda would probably laugh at him if she were here, but she wasn't. And so he just kept going, trying to vaguely stick to the idea of discretion. Milo knew of course, watching his brother he knew where he went every night. Knew what happened when Genet came to the stall to touch things and never buy. But he didn't say anything, just watched and waited to see if somehow Silvio would recover from this madness that seemed to have come over him.
Favio noticed that something was up with his second son, but he paid it little mind. They'd been in the Weyr so long, many of the young Caminar men of a certain age were sowing their wild oats in the lower caverns. It would end when they left and that's all there was to it. In the meantime, he was busily working out a betrothal with one of the other families. He'd given up in disgust about absent Aleda and focused his energies on his son instead. There was time for a wedding yet, before the weather changed.
Oblivious, Silvio climbed the ladders every night and stepped farther and farther away from the ways of his people with every moment spent in Genet's company. New restlessness about the rules seized him and he sometimes felt the need to get out of the Weyr to run around for very different reasons than he had before. Rather than escaping the Weyr, he was escaping the camp, escaping his parents' eyes to brood over the unfairness of the world.
And then the first scare came and he held her, feeling helpless and unsure. What should they do? What /could/ they do? Vague memories of various lectures Aleda had given him swam through his mind and when he next went to her wagon to water and to curl up on her bed and have imaginary conversations with his missing sister, he went through her cubbies and shelves instead, looking and looking for what he thought they needed. Eventually he found Aleda's neat book of recipes, the glossary of herbs and concotions and he read through it all avidly. Five times. Head bursting with ill-understood new knowledge, he still took the right vial from the cubby, brought it to Genet. And they waited. And breathed relief when it all came to nothing.
Silvio read more, went through more of Aleda's supplies, found the sachets of bitter tea and took everything his sister had in stock. Every morning, he told Genet and kissed her fiercely. And things went back to the way they had been even as the leaves began to change on the heights and the nip of chilly air began to be felt in the early morning and after sunset.
Time as ever, was marching on, marching on inexorably towards separation.
