VIGNETTE: Kima
Date: Day 13, Month 10, Turn 25
Synopsis: Tom's little sister is dead.
There was no body to bury; no closure.
If his mother had said anything since they'd heard the news, Tom suspected it would have been 'but there's no proof!'. She would be wrong to hope, though: even Tom knew that, probably even the smallest of the children would know that. Kima had been swept away in an enormous storm: who could possibly survive that?
Edala stared at the wall and said nothing, and if anything, her silence was worse than any tears. It filled every corner of the hut - a hut that had seemed so small only days ago, and now felt far too big.
Kima. Pretty, cheerful, good-natured Kima. Not his mother's favourite child, but the best kind of sister a man could have, really. It was surprising how vividly he remembered when she'd been born, really. He'd be unhappy, at first, when his mother had told him he was going to have a sibling, as she and Aunt Esdel got bigger and bigger. But they'd let him hold Kima, that first night, and somehow her tiny, baby fingers had captured his attention.
He suspected she was the first person he'd really cared about, aside from his family. With Kima, he was a big brother, with all that meant. When his cousin Jaques had followed, it had been sort of like being a big brother all over again, but-- different. Kima was his. He'd been the leader. It had mattered, somehow.
And now she was gone. It didn't feel real: how could there no longer be a Kima in the world? What kind of a world could it be?
His mother's silence made him want to throw up. He got up, went out; it was dark outside, the sky clouded over so that the moons were barely visible. He would've liked to go up to the cliffs, but even he knew that was too dangerous. Instead, he wandered around the rockpools down by the water's edge. Kima, he thought, remembering how she'd sunbathed out here. How he'd help teach her to swim, turns before that. How...
She was everywhere. Everywhere he looked, there was another memory.
At least there was no one around to see him cry. He'd never liked anyone to know how much he cared about his sister. In public, he teased and tormented, scorned and spurned; in private, they'd told each other everything. He couldn't deal with the thought of anyone seeing this; it was better, when people thought him completely uncaring.
I only care about people that matter.
Kima mattered. Had mattered.
And now she was gone. What else could matter?
Synopsis: Tom's little sister is dead.
There was no body to bury; no closure.
If his mother had said anything since they'd heard the news, Tom suspected it would have been 'but there's no proof!'. She would be wrong to hope, though: even Tom knew that, probably even the smallest of the children would know that. Kima had been swept away in an enormous storm: who could possibly survive that?
Edala stared at the wall and said nothing, and if anything, her silence was worse than any tears. It filled every corner of the hut - a hut that had seemed so small only days ago, and now felt far too big.
Kima. Pretty, cheerful, good-natured Kima. Not his mother's favourite child, but the best kind of sister a man could have, really. It was surprising how vividly he remembered when she'd been born, really. He'd be unhappy, at first, when his mother had told him he was going to have a sibling, as she and Aunt Esdel got bigger and bigger. But they'd let him hold Kima, that first night, and somehow her tiny, baby fingers had captured his attention.
He suspected she was the first person he'd really cared about, aside from his family. With Kima, he was a big brother, with all that meant. When his cousin Jaques had followed, it had been sort of like being a big brother all over again, but-- different. Kima was his. He'd been the leader. It had mattered, somehow.
And now she was gone. It didn't feel real: how could there no longer be a Kima in the world? What kind of a world could it be?
His mother's silence made him want to throw up. He got up, went out; it was dark outside, the sky clouded over so that the moons were barely visible. He would've liked to go up to the cliffs, but even he knew that was too dangerous. Instead, he wandered around the rockpools down by the water's edge. Kima, he thought, remembering how she'd sunbathed out here. How he'd help teach her to swim, turns before that. How...
She was everywhere. Everywhere he looked, there was another memory.
At least there was no one around to see him cry. He'd never liked anyone to know how much he cared about his sister. In public, he teased and tormented, scorned and spurned; in private, they'd told each other everything. He couldn't deal with the thought of anyone seeing this; it was better, when people thought him completely uncaring.
I only care about people that matter.
Kima mattered. Had mattered.
And now she was gone. What else could matter?