The Estates, Chyril 22nd MT

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Grant
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Post by Grant »

"You are mad, Jack Farrell!" exclaimed the tribeswoman in her typical, deadpan fashion...though something more frantic could be heard there. As if she recognized that her words might be interpreted as insulting, she paused and tried a different tactic. "An airship? What good is it to fly when you must fly away from where you belong?"

She knew she should try to talk him out of it. She wanted to do so...but what words could she find? For a very brief moment, she imagined what it might be like to leave the desert...to visit this World's Mouth and explore the wonders there. Madness, she realized. She would not survive...and she would hate them all. Wetlander women were soft and weak...and their men give themselves to be dogs for their attention and benefit, as if they might fall apart from one flicker to the next! How DARE Jack Farrell leave and go there, of all places?!?

Before she could say more, he was gone. "Do you value this...airship...more than us? Do you value this more than me?" she murmured to the door that closed behind him. Of course he didn't...but she had seen such conviction before. This would be his spirit quest...his trial. He had to do this for his own worth, and no one could stop him. If it will bring him contentment, then he will return...and he will return as the Kurdi-gol of his own clan.

---

Outside, the day had grown on towards the Tradetide. The middle of the days here were hot, but the breezes that occasionally backed from the seas to the East offered some refreshment...especially for those in the shade. While Jack could not see Sabata from the Estate...the distance was too great...he knew it would be a short journey north, along well-travelled routes used by fishermen, farmers, and salt collectors that plied their trade from the life-giving waters of the Seven Seas. He could just hear the surf in the distance...a rhythm of thunder that he had come to recognize in his sleep.
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Jack Farrell
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Post by Jack Farrell »

"Belong." Jack muttered under his breath. Did he truly belong anywhere? The desert perhaps? He had called one desert or another his home since his first waking moment. It was a part of him certainly, but did he really call the rolling dunes his home? Not really. Home was something he had never known and something he carried with him. Home was wherever he slept that night.

Jack wondered whether to take Amile out for a ride, but it was too hot now - maybe later, once the sun had loosened its grip a little. Jack wandered back to the stables, at least he could ensure all the horses had feed and water, maybe help the hands' out a little. It was a task he knew well, one that would give him time to clear his head in the monotony of it. People could usually find jack in the stables, either with his head in a book or messing around with the horses. The smell of the animals was comforting to him, he certainly felt more relaxed with the beast than he did with people. Animals had such simple needs.

Jack wandered over to see what needed doing and then set about doing it. Failing useful employment he could always go about crafting himself a new set of pipes. He had lost his old set a long while back, back on the Scillus. Jack's mind wandered.
[i]They tell you never hit a man with a closed fist. But it is on occasion Hillarious[/i] - Mal

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Grant
Retired Game Designer
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Post by Grant »

~Fin! Magholan says: "Of all the metals placed on our world, it is blood that is strongest."
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Post by Guido Cercatoro »

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