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rainbowfic2015-10-01 07:52 pm
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2015-10-01 07:52 pm
Blue Opal #20, Chestnut #1, White Cross #20
Could I get a color tag for Chestnut, please?
Name:kay_brooke
Story: The Prime - Jericha Part 9
Colors: Blue Opal #20 (the best laid plans of mice and men), Chestnut #1 (wake), White Cross #20 (Spiritualized)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas
Word Count: 1,044
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: An odd morning.
Note: Oops, another part to this very sporadically updating story; I think it's been at least nine months since the previous section. Last White Cross.
Jericha woke up that morning with a headache—not just any headache, but an insistent pounding that beat in time with her pulse and left her squinting against even the faint light coming through her small window and pulling the bed covers back over her head.
As she laid there, willing the pain to go away, the bell in the clock tower tolled. She counted, dread mounting as the number grew higher. Eight bells, nine bells, ten before it stopped.
Jericha threw the covers away and lurched to her feet, the shock of the cold stone floor barely registering as she skipped right past her room sandals and to her wardrobe to throw on some clothing. Ten in the morning. She was supposed to meet with Pedro at nine. He would make her pay for her lateness, she knew. And a late lesson with Pedro meant a late lesson with Beryl, who would also not be happy. Jericha could hear the lecture now. So many important things she had to do, Beryl would say, and she didn't have time to change her schedule to suit a lazy student.
Then Sheila would hear about it.
Jericha stopped in the middle of fastening the front of her trousers and collapsed on her bed. Her head still stabbed at her mercilessly, and the thought of being knocked around by Pedro and then viciously tested in lessons by Beryl was too exhausting to contemplate. She wondered if she could get out of it by feigning a fever.
There was nothing else to be done. Jericha sat up and finished dressing, then made her way out into the hallway, through the temple, and toward the training yard, steeling herself for whatever punishment Pedro had for her today.
The front atrium of the temple seemed busier than usual. At that time of morning, most of the priests and acolytes were off in lessons or attending to their tasks, but there was a sizeable group of them standing around in the atrium, talking quietly among themselves. As Jericha slunk her way through the room, keeping near the walls so that no one would notice her, another group entered through the front entrance, spoke urgently with the original group, and then an entirely new group broke off from that and disappeared down the women's corridor. None of them even glanced in her direction.
Jericha made it to the training yard without running into anyone else, but when she stepped out into the dirt, only the slow rustle of the breeze rattling across the yellow weeds greeted her. She walked all the way around the training yard, as if she thought she might spot Pedro if she tried from every angle, though there was nowhere for him to hide behind. Nothing but the temple building behind her, and the endless rurs stretched out before her.
Her headache seemed even worse now.
Perhaps Pedro had other tasks. She was over an hour late. Jericha went back inside and made her way to Beryl's room. She tentatively knocked on the door, telling herself that at least she wasn't very late for lessons.
No one answered. Jericha frowned and pressed her ear against the door, listening for movement inside, or the crackle of a fire on this chilly morning, or anything at all. There was nothing, but she couldn't be sure if no one was in or if the thick door kept all sounds inside. So she knocked again, and waited, in case Beryl was busy and couldn't get to the door right away.
Several minutes later, Jericha sighed and left.
This was very odd. Pedro she could understand leaving after their morning training hour was over. But she was supposed to be with Beryl in lessons right now. Where was everyone?
The front atrium had emptied out by the time she returned to it. She milled around for a few moments, wondering what to do. Breakfast was over, and though she knew she could sneak some bread from the kitchen, she didn't feel particularly hungry. She thought about going to see Tamela, the herbologist. She might have something to give Jericha for the headache. But Jericha knew from experience Tamela wouldn't give her painkillers without permission from a priest.
Finally, her head pounding so hard she was starting to see spots, she decided going back to bed was the only thing she really wanted to do.
She hadn't made it halfway across the atrium when she ran into Sheila. She froze as Sheila's distracted gaze spotted her and focused in, her eyes narrowing.
“What are you doing out here?” Sheila demanded. “Didn't you hear the room bells?”
“No,” said Jericha, blinking in surprise. “I just woke up. I can't find Pedro or Beryl.”
“There will be no lessons today,” said Sheila. “Go back to your room. Dinner will be brought to you later today, but no one without permission is allowed outside.”
“For how long?”
Sheila pursed her lips. “Until I say otherwise.”
“Why?” asked Jericha, despite herself. She knew she shouldn't complain about getting out of lessons and going back to bed, but quarantine was such an unusual occurrence that she had to know. It had only happened once before, that she could remember. “Is it another dust storm?”
“No,” said Sheila. “That is all I will say for now. Go back to your room.” Then she frowned. “You look pale. Are you ill?”
Jericha brightened slightly. “I have a headache. A really bad one. Could you give permission for Tamela to give me something?”
“Tamela is indisposed elsewhere,” said Sheila. Her frown deepened. “You were born ten years ago.”
“Yes?” Jericha furrowed her brow at this strange change in subject.
Sheila looked like she wanted to say something else, but she only stared at Jericha for several moments, until Jericha started shifting her feet, uncomfortable beneath the head priest's gaze. Then she said, “I will get Tamela to make you something. It will come with your dinner tonight.”
“My headache will be gone by then,” said Jericha, annoyed.
Sheila shook her head. “I don't think it will be gone for awhile.”
“What do you mean?”
But all Sheila did was point toward the women's corridor. “Back to your room, now.”
Name:
kay_brookeStory: The Prime - Jericha Part 9
Colors: Blue Opal #20 (the best laid plans of mice and men), Chestnut #1 (wake), White Cross #20 (Spiritualized)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas
Word Count: 1,044
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: An odd morning.
Note: Oops, another part to this very sporadically updating story; I think it's been at least nine months since the previous section. Last White Cross.
Jericha woke up that morning with a headache—not just any headache, but an insistent pounding that beat in time with her pulse and left her squinting against even the faint light coming through her small window and pulling the bed covers back over her head.
As she laid there, willing the pain to go away, the bell in the clock tower tolled. She counted, dread mounting as the number grew higher. Eight bells, nine bells, ten before it stopped.
Jericha threw the covers away and lurched to her feet, the shock of the cold stone floor barely registering as she skipped right past her room sandals and to her wardrobe to throw on some clothing. Ten in the morning. She was supposed to meet with Pedro at nine. He would make her pay for her lateness, she knew. And a late lesson with Pedro meant a late lesson with Beryl, who would also not be happy. Jericha could hear the lecture now. So many important things she had to do, Beryl would say, and she didn't have time to change her schedule to suit a lazy student.
Then Sheila would hear about it.
Jericha stopped in the middle of fastening the front of her trousers and collapsed on her bed. Her head still stabbed at her mercilessly, and the thought of being knocked around by Pedro and then viciously tested in lessons by Beryl was too exhausting to contemplate. She wondered if she could get out of it by feigning a fever.
There was nothing else to be done. Jericha sat up and finished dressing, then made her way out into the hallway, through the temple, and toward the training yard, steeling herself for whatever punishment Pedro had for her today.
The front atrium of the temple seemed busier than usual. At that time of morning, most of the priests and acolytes were off in lessons or attending to their tasks, but there was a sizeable group of them standing around in the atrium, talking quietly among themselves. As Jericha slunk her way through the room, keeping near the walls so that no one would notice her, another group entered through the front entrance, spoke urgently with the original group, and then an entirely new group broke off from that and disappeared down the women's corridor. None of them even glanced in her direction.
Jericha made it to the training yard without running into anyone else, but when she stepped out into the dirt, only the slow rustle of the breeze rattling across the yellow weeds greeted her. She walked all the way around the training yard, as if she thought she might spot Pedro if she tried from every angle, though there was nowhere for him to hide behind. Nothing but the temple building behind her, and the endless rurs stretched out before her.
Her headache seemed even worse now.
Perhaps Pedro had other tasks. She was over an hour late. Jericha went back inside and made her way to Beryl's room. She tentatively knocked on the door, telling herself that at least she wasn't very late for lessons.
No one answered. Jericha frowned and pressed her ear against the door, listening for movement inside, or the crackle of a fire on this chilly morning, or anything at all. There was nothing, but she couldn't be sure if no one was in or if the thick door kept all sounds inside. So she knocked again, and waited, in case Beryl was busy and couldn't get to the door right away.
Several minutes later, Jericha sighed and left.
This was very odd. Pedro she could understand leaving after their morning training hour was over. But she was supposed to be with Beryl in lessons right now. Where was everyone?
The front atrium had emptied out by the time she returned to it. She milled around for a few moments, wondering what to do. Breakfast was over, and though she knew she could sneak some bread from the kitchen, she didn't feel particularly hungry. She thought about going to see Tamela, the herbologist. She might have something to give Jericha for the headache. But Jericha knew from experience Tamela wouldn't give her painkillers without permission from a priest.
Finally, her head pounding so hard she was starting to see spots, she decided going back to bed was the only thing she really wanted to do.
She hadn't made it halfway across the atrium when she ran into Sheila. She froze as Sheila's distracted gaze spotted her and focused in, her eyes narrowing.
“What are you doing out here?” Sheila demanded. “Didn't you hear the room bells?”
“No,” said Jericha, blinking in surprise. “I just woke up. I can't find Pedro or Beryl.”
“There will be no lessons today,” said Sheila. “Go back to your room. Dinner will be brought to you later today, but no one without permission is allowed outside.”
“For how long?”
Sheila pursed her lips. “Until I say otherwise.”
“Why?” asked Jericha, despite herself. She knew she shouldn't complain about getting out of lessons and going back to bed, but quarantine was such an unusual occurrence that she had to know. It had only happened once before, that she could remember. “Is it another dust storm?”
“No,” said Sheila. “That is all I will say for now. Go back to your room.” Then she frowned. “You look pale. Are you ill?”
Jericha brightened slightly. “I have a headache. A really bad one. Could you give permission for Tamela to give me something?”
“Tamela is indisposed elsewhere,” said Sheila. Her frown deepened. “You were born ten years ago.”
“Yes?” Jericha furrowed her brow at this strange change in subject.
Sheila looked like she wanted to say something else, but she only stared at Jericha for several moments, until Jericha started shifting her feet, uncomfortable beneath the head priest's gaze. Then she said, “I will get Tamela to make you something. It will come with your dinner tonight.”
“My headache will be gone by then,” said Jericha, annoyed.
Sheila shook her head. “I don't think it will be gone for awhile.”
“What do you mean?”
But all Sheila did was point toward the women's corridor. “Back to your room, now.”
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Sheila doesn't know, Sheila suspects. And she has a bad habit of keeping certain information to herself, because knowledge is power and she wants to keep being the one in power.
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Also, you v. much captured the sensation of a migraine!
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Thank you for reading!
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Thanks for reading!
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Thanks for reading!