Thread had fallen over the northern reaches of Western's territories recently and the Weyr was abuzz with activity as the wounded were tended, the lost mourned, and life carried on. That part at least was a sobering experience for Ameliah and a reminder that even had she stayed with the Weyr, her fate would be so much more regimented.
She and Sharath had decided to lounge about and enjoy the crisp afternoon air just outside the main portion of Western Wey, sprawled on the grass. Sharath's eyes were unfocused as she dozed and Ameliah was inspecting an interesting rock she'd unearthed a few moments before. Crystalline, it could potentially be polished into a few pretty trickents but nothing too rare or valuable.
She yawned, it had been a long day and she needed a bath at some point – she often didn't bother considering how dirty she got and she wasn't much of one for public baths – but she was starting to feel, and look, particularly dirt-encrusted. At least she smelled of earth and firestone, among the best scents in her opinion.
”Thaliawen”
