[Writing Assignment] Normal
Normal. That was the word Katric kept coming back to, the one that kept changing every time he figured it out again.
It was a normal day; he was just another normal ten-turn-old, chasing after his brother and his friends--the perpetual tag-along, always underfoot and in the way. The others grumbled, but they didn't say anything to him, personally. Trakasi was the only one who ever did, rolling his eyes and griping about couldn't he have just one day without having to babysit? Then he hit the first other boy who suggested that.
Katric watched him with a proud grin, cheering him on. Rose-colored glasses, he would reflect bitterly thirteen turns later, but then--then he knew no different. The world was a good place to be, with Trakasi watching out for him and all the Weyr to play in. When evening settled across the bowl, they'd traipse inside to the nannies, amidst sighs over dirt and bruises. Just another normal night.
T'kas was waiting with the head nanny, their eyes dark, lips pursed. The other children rushed ahead, but Trakasi and Katric lingered, letting the rest of the crowd surge around them while they delayed the inevitable. Finally, they came to a stop in front of the pair. The shrieks and laughter of the others died away as the other nannies ushered them to the baths. Katric half-hid behind his brother, hanging his head.
"It was all Ritren. He was going on and on, talking about..." Trakasi began. Katric glanced up as he petered off, the younger boy taking in the concerned expressions, glancing to Trakasi. A black eye, a few scrapes--that was normal. Nothing worth concern. Nothing worth the hug T'kas forced on both of them together.
"Your mom," he started. "She... She's sick."
And then that was normal, too. In and out of the infirmary, never quite well, never really sick, either. Katric got used to the visits, to the antiseptic smell of the infirmary and the perpetual mess when T'kas brought them home, which became normal, too. That was life for a turn, and then it wasn't. Chantri finally faded away one evening not long after Katric turned eleven. The healers had taken T'kas aside, probably to discuss the body.
Trakasi and Katri were left alone with her. Trakasi huddled in a chair as far from the infirmary cot as he could, legs pulled up to his chest and face turned away while he sniffled and tears dribbled free. Katric sat on the floor, leaned back against the side of the bed, with a blank expression. He tried to muster tears to match his brother's, his father's, but he couldn't. And that... that became normal, too.
It was a normal day; he was just another normal ten-turn-old, chasing after his brother and his friends--the perpetual tag-along, always underfoot and in the way. The others grumbled, but they didn't say anything to him, personally. Trakasi was the only one who ever did, rolling his eyes and griping about couldn't he have just one day without having to babysit? Then he hit the first other boy who suggested that.
Katric watched him with a proud grin, cheering him on. Rose-colored glasses, he would reflect bitterly thirteen turns later, but then--then he knew no different. The world was a good place to be, with Trakasi watching out for him and all the Weyr to play in. When evening settled across the bowl, they'd traipse inside to the nannies, amidst sighs over dirt and bruises. Just another normal night.
T'kas was waiting with the head nanny, their eyes dark, lips pursed. The other children rushed ahead, but Trakasi and Katric lingered, letting the rest of the crowd surge around them while they delayed the inevitable. Finally, they came to a stop in front of the pair. The shrieks and laughter of the others died away as the other nannies ushered them to the baths. Katric half-hid behind his brother, hanging his head.
"It was all Ritren. He was going on and on, talking about..." Trakasi began. Katric glanced up as he petered off, the younger boy taking in the concerned expressions, glancing to Trakasi. A black eye, a few scrapes--that was normal. Nothing worth concern. Nothing worth the hug T'kas forced on both of them together.
"Your mom," he started. "She... She's sick."
And then that was normal, too. In and out of the infirmary, never quite well, never really sick, either. Katric got used to the visits, to the antiseptic smell of the infirmary and the perpetual mess when T'kas brought them home, which became normal, too. That was life for a turn, and then it wasn't. Chantri finally faded away one evening not long after Katric turned eleven. The healers had taken T'kas aside, probably to discuss the body.
Trakasi and Katri were left alone with her. Trakasi huddled in a chair as far from the infirmary cot as he could, legs pulled up to his chest and face turned away while he sniffled and tears dribbled free. Katric sat on the floor, leaned back against the side of the bed, with a blank expression. He tried to muster tears to match his brother's, his father's, but he couldn't. And that... that became normal, too.