Post by Stranger on Nov 15, 2010 21:41:01 GMT -8
The bustle of the nightly markets lent a frame to the serene silence of the night: soft slivers of silver falling through the trees, casting their leaves in a clear pale sheen in passing. Collecting in pools and tendrils at his feet. If he turned he would see the gaudy brilliance of the night market, bright with torches and hues, a swirl of colors and a riot of scents, designed to delight the senses and dazzle the mind into all sorts of decisions (most of it regretted the day after). Horatio, having no interest in any of that, simply did not turn back to look.
What drew his eye were the glimpses of darkened sky above and the glances of shivering light, dancing across the massive trunks beyond the balcony railing in a sudden breeze. It was as clear a night as it would ever be in Chydyn at this time of year, and the apprentice Healer was enjoying every moment of it. Night markets there would always be, a staple of the aerial city's evenings as leaves were part of a tree. But the unraining, unclouded night of a fully grown moon was a rarity, and he would give it his full attention.
Or would, if his mind were not so full. Soft light spilled over his fingers closed on the railings as he let loose a soft sigh into the gentle wind. In two days he would be leaving Chydyn, embarking once more on the transient existence of a Healer-in-training - going wherever his learning needs might take him. And this time it would not be a bustling metropolis like Sayaie, but a distant place only recently established and in many ways still finding its feet. The Eyrie was still a place of wonder and mystery to many of Pohono's commonfolk, and the young man was no exception. It was high honour to have been chosen to attend to the needs of the simourv riders, to learn from the best society had to give. Perhaps even meet some of the Surgeons-turned-riders themselves (he knew there were a few, though he was not familiar with them),
Still, his heart was unsettled. It had been scarcely two years since his return to Chydyn; and just when he thought he had settled back into the life and rhythm of the airborne town, he was being shuffled off to another place again. The intellectual part of him knew that constant displacement was the role of a young Healer-to-be, accepted it as a matter of fact; his natural inclinations protested the loss of the familiar and the stable, and would not be satisfied by mere fact.
Toying with the flickering strands of moonbeams on his flicking fingers, he cast his eyes beneath to the sullen shadows of what lay beneath, all but invisible below the balcony. Little light reached those depths. Only the bare glint of leaves turning in the wind; or the silhouette of some passing beast, glimpsed then unseen, broke the shades formed of the massive trees. Somewhere down there, he knew were the barns and sheds of the animals and grain storages. Somewhere in that murkiness, the farmers would be concluding their work for the day, shuttling their creatures in or adding the final locks to their stores of wheat. And perhaps amongst them was a hand-scarred girl, favouring her left hand with its half finger as she went through the day's end routine with her brother.
What drew his eye were the glimpses of darkened sky above and the glances of shivering light, dancing across the massive trunks beyond the balcony railing in a sudden breeze. It was as clear a night as it would ever be in Chydyn at this time of year, and the apprentice Healer was enjoying every moment of it. Night markets there would always be, a staple of the aerial city's evenings as leaves were part of a tree. But the unraining, unclouded night of a fully grown moon was a rarity, and he would give it his full attention.
Or would, if his mind were not so full. Soft light spilled over his fingers closed on the railings as he let loose a soft sigh into the gentle wind. In two days he would be leaving Chydyn, embarking once more on the transient existence of a Healer-in-training - going wherever his learning needs might take him. And this time it would not be a bustling metropolis like Sayaie, but a distant place only recently established and in many ways still finding its feet. The Eyrie was still a place of wonder and mystery to many of Pohono's commonfolk, and the young man was no exception. It was high honour to have been chosen to attend to the needs of the simourv riders, to learn from the best society had to give. Perhaps even meet some of the Surgeons-turned-riders themselves (he knew there were a few, though he was not familiar with them),
Still, his heart was unsettled. It had been scarcely two years since his return to Chydyn; and just when he thought he had settled back into the life and rhythm of the airborne town, he was being shuffled off to another place again. The intellectual part of him knew that constant displacement was the role of a young Healer-to-be, accepted it as a matter of fact; his natural inclinations protested the loss of the familiar and the stable, and would not be satisfied by mere fact.
Toying with the flickering strands of moonbeams on his flicking fingers, he cast his eyes beneath to the sullen shadows of what lay beneath, all but invisible below the balcony. Little light reached those depths. Only the bare glint of leaves turning in the wind; or the silhouette of some passing beast, glimpsed then unseen, broke the shades formed of the massive trees. Somewhere down there, he knew were the barns and sheds of the animals and grain storages. Somewhere in that murkiness, the farmers would be concluding their work for the day, shuttling their creatures in or adding the final locks to their stores of wheat. And perhaps amongst them was a hand-scarred girl, favouring her left hand with its half finger as she went through the day's end routine with her brother.
