New Leaf, New Life?|Haven, Ilyamen
Sept 20, 2011 2:09:23 GMT -5
Post by Darastrix on Sept 20, 2011 2:09:23 GMT -5
It felt strange, Amann thought, being back in Ilyamen. The place was as familiar as ever, but after the past several months, being by himself wasn't. He'd played at being a bard in Talen'sul while trying to wait out the Reapers and had gotten to know several guild members. Then after he'd left, he'd been caught mere candlemarks after his departure.
The days on the road had given him next to no privacy, and during his time in Athrug, he'd had Renlo to talk to and spend time with. After that, Amann felt distinctly lonely, even with Threnody. He missed Renlo more than he'd thought he would; he hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told the other man that he was the only friend he had that actually knew him.
I wish I could've told him about this, he thought as he rubbed his wrist where his Fire sign had been. Renlo would have had some comfort to offer, he was sure. Amann had tried not to think about it during his trip back, but between the hot days that he should have been better able to endure and the cold nights that had resulted because he was too inexperienced at starting a fire with anything but his sign, it was hard not to dwell on it. He'd even burned himself when he'd reached to play with the flames without thinking.
The first time he'd been burned was what made the loss feel real. Until that point, he'd been careful to avoid trying to do anything with his damaged sign. It had kept a tiny, stubborn spark of hope alive that maybe, just maybe, it somehow wasn't as bad as it had looked. Afterward, he didn't even have that, and he'd lost a day of travel from the resulting breakdown. He might have lost more, but he did still have Threnody and he'd look out for her well-being if nothing else.
Amann shook himself out of his gloomy thoughts. Maybe he could send Renlo a letter about it and just not be specific about how he lost it. He could wait around long enough for a reply, probably. He looked down at the paper Renlo had given him with the troupe's information.
I wish I were as confident about this as he seemed to be. Sure, he was a good actor. He could make up things on the spot and, more importantly, keep his stories straight. He'd never worked off of a script before, though. Or with other people.
"Well," he muttered. "Only one way to find out."
The days on the road had given him next to no privacy, and during his time in Athrug, he'd had Renlo to talk to and spend time with. After that, Amann felt distinctly lonely, even with Threnody. He missed Renlo more than he'd thought he would; he hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told the other man that he was the only friend he had that actually knew him.
I wish I could've told him about this, he thought as he rubbed his wrist where his Fire sign had been. Renlo would have had some comfort to offer, he was sure. Amann had tried not to think about it during his trip back, but between the hot days that he should have been better able to endure and the cold nights that had resulted because he was too inexperienced at starting a fire with anything but his sign, it was hard not to dwell on it. He'd even burned himself when he'd reached to play with the flames without thinking.
The first time he'd been burned was what made the loss feel real. Until that point, he'd been careful to avoid trying to do anything with his damaged sign. It had kept a tiny, stubborn spark of hope alive that maybe, just maybe, it somehow wasn't as bad as it had looked. Afterward, he didn't even have that, and he'd lost a day of travel from the resulting breakdown. He might have lost more, but he did still have Threnody and he'd look out for her well-being if nothing else.
Amann shook himself out of his gloomy thoughts. Maybe he could send Renlo a letter about it and just not be specific about how he lost it. He could wait around long enough for a reply, probably. He looked down at the paper Renlo had given him with the troupe's information.
I wish I were as confident about this as he seemed to be. Sure, he was a good actor. He could make up things on the spot and, more importantly, keep his stories straight. He'd never worked off of a script before, though. Or with other people.
"Well," he muttered. "Only one way to find out."