Memory 001: GR - Waystation (triv pos)
Jun. 19th, 2014 09:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
justariderGame Received: Hades' feeling share game, Day 361, midday through afternoon
Team Played With: n/a
Memory Form: GOLDEN RINGS put them on to view your memory, 8 shares.
They galloped through the night, The Horse's hooves echoing dully on the
road. The gray world passed as a blur, and Karigan relied on The Horse to
find the way. Holding onto his mane and keeping her seat was all she
could manage under the weight of invisibility. When the night changed to
a lighter shade of gray, The Horse slowed to a walk and halted.
"What?" Karigan was unable to lift her head from his warm neck.
The Horse glanced both ways up and down the road, then with a swish
of his tail, he stepped into the woods. No path existed here, not even a deer
trail, yet as they passed through the woods, no underbrush or low hanging
branches snagged them, and the ground was clear and level.
The Horse skirted a granite outcropping, and something snapped within
Karigan. The world repainted itself in the colors of early dawn, and the
weight of invisibility lifted from her and raised her spirits.
Snug against a granite ledge, a tiny log cabin, with a fenced paddock
and attached lean-to shelter, came into view. She was nearly on top of it
before she saw it. There was no sign of life anywhere near the cabin
except the morning song of birds.
"What is this place?" Karigan asked The Horse. She dismounted, falling
to her knees in fatigue. He nuzzled her shoulder reassuringly. The brooch
had sapped Karigan's energy painfully, and it was some time before she
could stand again, and even then, she had to lean against The Horse for
support as they walked to the cabin. A winged horse was carved on the
door.
"Is this a Green Rider… shelter?" she asked.
The Horse whickered and nudged her back. She unlatched the door and
stumbled inside. The one room cabin was musty from lack of use, and dust
swirled about her boots with each step she took. Green Riders probably
didn't travel this way often.
The interior was cloaked in darkness with the shutters fastened closed,
but she had reclaimed her moonstone along with her other belongings, and
now used it to light the building. Silver light stretched to all corners of the
cabin, and lifted some of her fatigue and heartened her as if to remind her
that she was truly alive.
A straw mattress lay on a simple bed frame against the far wall, a shelf
above held some candles, a lamp, and even a few books. Wood was
stacked next to a stone fireplace with snowshoes propped on the mantel.
More shelves held jars sealed with wax and cork.
A cedar-lined closet contained blankets, pillows, and some clothing.
Karigan tore off her own shirt, stained with Garroty's tobacco juice and,
now she saw in the light, flecks of blood. Throwing it to the floor, she
grabbed a white linen shirt from the closet and pulled it over her head.
Then she pinned the brooch on. She felt less dirty now, having broken one
more thread that had bound her to the mercenaries.
She took some bedclothes from the closet and heaped them on the table.
Using what little strength she possessed, she beat on the mattress, raising
all manner of dust. She staggered out of the cabin sneezing.
The Horse watched her expectantly, his ears at point. When the fit
passed, Karigan untacked him. "Sorry I made you wait, Horse," she said.
Her father and her riding master had both insisted that the horse that bore
you must be seen to before yourself. She should have taken care of him
before investigating the cabin. After all, he had carried her through the
night for who knew how many miles, while she had clung to him witless
under the spell of the brooch. He deserved her consideration at the very
least.
Once untacked, The Horse walked into the paddock and under the roof
of the shelter. Again, he watched her expectantly. Karigan followed and
gazed about. A large bin containing a stash of grain and two buckets was
attached to one of the walls. The grain appeared, if not fresh, unspoiled; no
beetles or worms crawled in it.
She scooped some of the sweet-smelling grain into one bucket, then
took the other in search of water. She did not have to go very far. A spring
bubbled behind the shelter, trickling into a stream that ran down an
embankment. She drank of the clear cold water, unclogging her throat of
road and cabin dust, then filled the bucket and took it to The Horse. With
those tasks accomplished, she returned to the cabin, wrapped a blanket
around herself, and fell to the bed. She was asleep in an instant.
• • •
Karigan awoke with a shiver. Her breath fogged in the cool, damp air—
not at all unusual in a northern spring, but not altogether pleasant. At first
she thought it was the same morning as that of her arrival, but this
morning was drizzly, whereas yesterday had promised warmth and sun.
With the blanket still wrapped around her, she found a tinder box on the
fireplace mantel, opened the flue of the chimney, and stacked wood on the
hearth for a cheerful blaze. It wasn't long before the cabin filled with
warmth.
She traded the blanket for her greatcoat and stepped outside to see to
The Horse. She refilled his grain and water buckets, the pure ordinariness
of the activity creating a sense of security that she hadn't felt for ages.
Maybe she could stay hidden in this place and let the world continue
without her.
The scent of wood smoke lured her back into the cabin. She had filled a
kettle with spring water and now set it over the fire. It had been days since
Jendara had let her bathe in a muddy stream, and her fastidious nature
insisted upon bathing as a priority that morning. As she waited for the
water to heat up, she searched the shelves again. The jars contained tea,
spices, soap, and ointment, as well as an assortment of mismatched
crockery. Karigan gleefully sprinkled tea leaves into a crude mug, and
anticipated the boiling of the water.
She espied her old, stained shirt out of the corner of her eye where she
had dropped it on the floor the previous morning. With a grim smile, she
pinched a corner of the fabric between her fingers and tossed it into the
fire. The rest of her clothes, except a pair of blue trousers, had been left by
the roadside miles ago, deemed worthless by Jendara and Torne.
On impulse, she inspected the closet again, the scent of cedar hanging
heavy and cloying in the little cabin. Within, she found more linen shirts,
but only one fit reasonably well. Each shirt bore a winged horse
embroidered in gold on the sleeve. Karigan glanced at her own sleeve, and
sure enough, found a winged horse.
Soft hide trousers dyed in green, fur-lined greatcoats and cloaks, tall
black boots, and mittens and gloves filled the closet, but only one pair of
trousers fit her. She pulled out a pair of leather gloves with flaring cuffs
over her hands, and liked the effect. The cuffs would hide the burns on her
wrists.
"Well," she said, "everyone thinks I'm a Green Rider, so I may as well
dress like one."
Everything in the closet was new and unused, and a notice tacked to the
closet door requested that all items removed be reported to the
quartermaster for restocking purposes. It was one more thing she would
have to take care of when she reached Sacor City. If she made it.
When the water boiled, Karigan brewed some tea and set about washing
herself with a cloth and honey soap. Gritting her teeth, she pried the dirtcaked
dressings from her wrists. They stuck stubbornly to her skin, and the
scabs broke as she pulled. Her wrists were chafed, tender, sore, and
oozing, but not festering. The care of the Eletians had surpassed anything
the menders in Selium could have done. She cleaned the burns, applied
ointment, and dressed them with fresh bandage strips she had found in the
cabinet.
A look in a dusty mirror revealed yellowing bruises on her face. She
averted her gaze, Garroty's assault all too fresh in her mind.
Her stomach rumbled, and only now did she think about food. Though
Torne, Jendara, and Garroty had dented her food stores, there was still
some hard bread, cheese and dried meat left in the saddlebags. Further
digging revealed two wrinkly apples. Karigan sat down for a feast by the
crackling fire, as the warmth of the tea spread throughout her body.
Team Played With: n/a
Memory Form: GOLDEN RINGS put them on to view your memory, 8 shares.
They galloped through the night, The Horse's hooves echoing dully on the
road. The gray world passed as a blur, and Karigan relied on The Horse to
find the way. Holding onto his mane and keeping her seat was all she
could manage under the weight of invisibility. When the night changed to
a lighter shade of gray, The Horse slowed to a walk and halted.
"What?" Karigan was unable to lift her head from his warm neck.
The Horse glanced both ways up and down the road, then with a swish
of his tail, he stepped into the woods. No path existed here, not even a deer
trail, yet as they passed through the woods, no underbrush or low hanging
branches snagged them, and the ground was clear and level.
The Horse skirted a granite outcropping, and something snapped within
Karigan. The world repainted itself in the colors of early dawn, and the
weight of invisibility lifted from her and raised her spirits.
Snug against a granite ledge, a tiny log cabin, with a fenced paddock
and attached lean-to shelter, came into view. She was nearly on top of it
before she saw it. There was no sign of life anywhere near the cabin
except the morning song of birds.
"What is this place?" Karigan asked The Horse. She dismounted, falling
to her knees in fatigue. He nuzzled her shoulder reassuringly. The brooch
had sapped Karigan's energy painfully, and it was some time before she
could stand again, and even then, she had to lean against The Horse for
support as they walked to the cabin. A winged horse was carved on the
door.
"Is this a Green Rider… shelter?" she asked.
The Horse whickered and nudged her back. She unlatched the door and
stumbled inside. The one room cabin was musty from lack of use, and dust
swirled about her boots with each step she took. Green Riders probably
didn't travel this way often.
The interior was cloaked in darkness with the shutters fastened closed,
but she had reclaimed her moonstone along with her other belongings, and
now used it to light the building. Silver light stretched to all corners of the
cabin, and lifted some of her fatigue and heartened her as if to remind her
that she was truly alive.
A straw mattress lay on a simple bed frame against the far wall, a shelf
above held some candles, a lamp, and even a few books. Wood was
stacked next to a stone fireplace with snowshoes propped on the mantel.
More shelves held jars sealed with wax and cork.
A cedar-lined closet contained blankets, pillows, and some clothing.
Karigan tore off her own shirt, stained with Garroty's tobacco juice and,
now she saw in the light, flecks of blood. Throwing it to the floor, she
grabbed a white linen shirt from the closet and pulled it over her head.
Then she pinned the brooch on. She felt less dirty now, having broken one
more thread that had bound her to the mercenaries.
She took some bedclothes from the closet and heaped them on the table.
Using what little strength she possessed, she beat on the mattress, raising
all manner of dust. She staggered out of the cabin sneezing.
The Horse watched her expectantly, his ears at point. When the fit
passed, Karigan untacked him. "Sorry I made you wait, Horse," she said.
Her father and her riding master had both insisted that the horse that bore
you must be seen to before yourself. She should have taken care of him
before investigating the cabin. After all, he had carried her through the
night for who knew how many miles, while she had clung to him witless
under the spell of the brooch. He deserved her consideration at the very
least.
Once untacked, The Horse walked into the paddock and under the roof
of the shelter. Again, he watched her expectantly. Karigan followed and
gazed about. A large bin containing a stash of grain and two buckets was
attached to one of the walls. The grain appeared, if not fresh, unspoiled; no
beetles or worms crawled in it.
She scooped some of the sweet-smelling grain into one bucket, then
took the other in search of water. She did not have to go very far. A spring
bubbled behind the shelter, trickling into a stream that ran down an
embankment. She drank of the clear cold water, unclogging her throat of
road and cabin dust, then filled the bucket and took it to The Horse. With
those tasks accomplished, she returned to the cabin, wrapped a blanket
around herself, and fell to the bed. She was asleep in an instant.
• • •
Karigan awoke with a shiver. Her breath fogged in the cool, damp air—
not at all unusual in a northern spring, but not altogether pleasant. At first
she thought it was the same morning as that of her arrival, but this
morning was drizzly, whereas yesterday had promised warmth and sun.
With the blanket still wrapped around her, she found a tinder box on the
fireplace mantel, opened the flue of the chimney, and stacked wood on the
hearth for a cheerful blaze. It wasn't long before the cabin filled with
warmth.
She traded the blanket for her greatcoat and stepped outside to see to
The Horse. She refilled his grain and water buckets, the pure ordinariness
of the activity creating a sense of security that she hadn't felt for ages.
Maybe she could stay hidden in this place and let the world continue
without her.
The scent of wood smoke lured her back into the cabin. She had filled a
kettle with spring water and now set it over the fire. It had been days since
Jendara had let her bathe in a muddy stream, and her fastidious nature
insisted upon bathing as a priority that morning. As she waited for the
water to heat up, she searched the shelves again. The jars contained tea,
spices, soap, and ointment, as well as an assortment of mismatched
crockery. Karigan gleefully sprinkled tea leaves into a crude mug, and
anticipated the boiling of the water.
She espied her old, stained shirt out of the corner of her eye where she
had dropped it on the floor the previous morning. With a grim smile, she
pinched a corner of the fabric between her fingers and tossed it into the
fire. The rest of her clothes, except a pair of blue trousers, had been left by
the roadside miles ago, deemed worthless by Jendara and Torne.
On impulse, she inspected the closet again, the scent of cedar hanging
heavy and cloying in the little cabin. Within, she found more linen shirts,
but only one fit reasonably well. Each shirt bore a winged horse
embroidered in gold on the sleeve. Karigan glanced at her own sleeve, and
sure enough, found a winged horse.
Soft hide trousers dyed in green, fur-lined greatcoats and cloaks, tall
black boots, and mittens and gloves filled the closet, but only one pair of
trousers fit her. She pulled out a pair of leather gloves with flaring cuffs
over her hands, and liked the effect. The cuffs would hide the burns on her
wrists.
"Well," she said, "everyone thinks I'm a Green Rider, so I may as well
dress like one."
Everything in the closet was new and unused, and a notice tacked to the
closet door requested that all items removed be reported to the
quartermaster for restocking purposes. It was one more thing she would
have to take care of when she reached Sacor City. If she made it.
When the water boiled, Karigan brewed some tea and set about washing
herself with a cloth and honey soap. Gritting her teeth, she pried the dirtcaked
dressings from her wrists. They stuck stubbornly to her skin, and the
scabs broke as she pulled. Her wrists were chafed, tender, sore, and
oozing, but not festering. The care of the Eletians had surpassed anything
the menders in Selium could have done. She cleaned the burns, applied
ointment, and dressed them with fresh bandage strips she had found in the
cabinet.
A look in a dusty mirror revealed yellowing bruises on her face. She
averted her gaze, Garroty's assault all too fresh in her mind.
Her stomach rumbled, and only now did she think about food. Though
Torne, Jendara, and Garroty had dented her food stores, there was still
some hard bread, cheese and dried meat left in the saddlebags. Further
digging revealed two wrinkly apples. Karigan sat down for a feast by the
crackling fire, as the warmth of the tea spread throughout her body.
