Blinky
Title: Blinky
Prompt: Stuffed animal
Ketheria always talks to her stuffed owl. Keller got it for her on her third birth’s cycle, and Ketheria hasn’t let it out of her sight since (even though she just passed her seventh birth’s cycle and Mother says she’s really getting too old for such things). She calls it Blinky, and she always, always talks to it. Sometimes it even replies. It’s really much more fun when it replies…
“Kell left for Drachekeep today,” Ketheria announces, hugging Blinky tightly to her chest and trying desperately not to cry. “She wants to be a warrior. And she’s a good fighter, don’t you think? She can take care of herself.” She doesn’t want her older sister to come back in a casket, like poor Selas- the boy next door- had. Selas’ death might have been the reason her sister decided to join, Ketheria thinks. They’d been very close.
“Yes-she-can,” Blinky agrees, its voice an emotionless monotone as usual. Ketheria doesn’t care. It’s just nice to have something that always listens to her and occasionally (when it feels the need) replies.
“I want to do something to help, too,” she tells it. “Only not fight- I’m not good at fighting- but something. Do you think I could be a healer? Kell always used to say I’d make a good one, and this way if she got hurt I could fix her.” She’d heard about an ex-dragon healer up at Drachekeep- Amu, was it?- and wanted to learn from her. She still does, too.
“You-would-be-good,” her stuffed owl says flatly. Ketheria smiles, hugging it even closer to her.
“Thanks, Blinky. I think I’ll ask Mother if I can…”
“Wait-a-few-years. Then-try.”
“Okay, I guess…” Keller was just barely thirteen. The Drakon surely wouldn’t send her into any real battles into she was at least fifteen, right? That gives Ketheria two years to prepare…
“Mother?” Ketheria is nervous, but she’s nine now and wants to do something. Something more useful than sitting at home worrying about Keller every chance she gets.
“Yes, dear? What is it?” Mother asks, turning to face Ketheria and frowning to see that she still clings to the childish stuffed toy.
“Ryu from school- my teacher, you’ve met him- says that there’s a position up at Drachekeep. For a healer’s apprentice, and Mother, you know I’d make a good healer.” It’s so terribly important that she convince Mother of this. Blinky agrees with her, at least, that she just simply has to go to Drachekeep, has to make herself useful.
To her surprise, Mother agrees. “I was wondering when you would ask,” she laughs, and begins helping Ketheria pack a bag.
Ketheria is curled up on her tiny cot in the healer’s rooms, still clutching her ratty stuffed owl. “Kell’s dead, Blinky,” she whispers, stifling a sob. The two years she’s spent walking through the carnage of battlefields has taken its toll on the just-barely-eleven-rotations-old. She doesn’t speak much anymore, except to Blinky, and hardly bats an eye whenever she sees some horribly mangled body. She’d thought tears were lost to her forever after her first field.
To her surprise, she now finds that isn’t true.
“It-will-be-okay,” Blinky says tonelessly. For the first time ever in the rotations she’s known him, Blinky lies.
Prompt: Stuffed animal
Ketheria always talks to her stuffed owl. Keller got it for her on her third birth’s cycle, and Ketheria hasn’t let it out of her sight since (even though she just passed her seventh birth’s cycle and Mother says she’s really getting too old for such things). She calls it Blinky, and she always, always talks to it. Sometimes it even replies. It’s really much more fun when it replies…
“Kell left for Drachekeep today,” Ketheria announces, hugging Blinky tightly to her chest and trying desperately not to cry. “She wants to be a warrior. And she’s a good fighter, don’t you think? She can take care of herself.” She doesn’t want her older sister to come back in a casket, like poor Selas- the boy next door- had. Selas’ death might have been the reason her sister decided to join, Ketheria thinks. They’d been very close.
“Yes-she-can,” Blinky agrees, its voice an emotionless monotone as usual. Ketheria doesn’t care. It’s just nice to have something that always listens to her and occasionally (when it feels the need) replies.
“I want to do something to help, too,” she tells it. “Only not fight- I’m not good at fighting- but something. Do you think I could be a healer? Kell always used to say I’d make a good one, and this way if she got hurt I could fix her.” She’d heard about an ex-dragon healer up at Drachekeep- Amu, was it?- and wanted to learn from her. She still does, too.
“You-would-be-good,” her stuffed owl says flatly. Ketheria smiles, hugging it even closer to her.
“Thanks, Blinky. I think I’ll ask Mother if I can…”
“Wait-a-few-years. Then-try.”
“Okay, I guess…” Keller was just barely thirteen. The Drakon surely wouldn’t send her into any real battles into she was at least fifteen, right? That gives Ketheria two years to prepare…
“Mother?” Ketheria is nervous, but she’s nine now and wants to do something. Something more useful than sitting at home worrying about Keller every chance she gets.
“Yes, dear? What is it?” Mother asks, turning to face Ketheria and frowning to see that she still clings to the childish stuffed toy.
“Ryu from school- my teacher, you’ve met him- says that there’s a position up at Drachekeep. For a healer’s apprentice, and Mother, you know I’d make a good healer.” It’s so terribly important that she convince Mother of this. Blinky agrees with her, at least, that she just simply has to go to Drachekeep, has to make herself useful.
To her surprise, Mother agrees. “I was wondering when you would ask,” she laughs, and begins helping Ketheria pack a bag.
Ketheria is curled up on her tiny cot in the healer’s rooms, still clutching her ratty stuffed owl. “Kell’s dead, Blinky,” she whispers, stifling a sob. The two years she’s spent walking through the carnage of battlefields has taken its toll on the just-barely-eleven-rotations-old. She doesn’t speak much anymore, except to Blinky, and hardly bats an eye whenever she sees some horribly mangled body. She’d thought tears were lost to her forever after her first field.
To her surprise, she now finds that isn’t true.
“It-will-be-okay,” Blinky says tonelessly. For the first time ever in the rotations she’s known him, Blinky lies.