Could it be? (Crom) Week 2, Month 13, 1164

[goldenauthanth]

Could it be? (Crom) – Week 2, Month 13. (day TBC) Mid-day

“Leretta!” Shouted an older women, standing at the hold doors, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “What have I told you about playing in the snow without warm tunics?” The object of her scowl, a young child, no more than 7 or 8 turns old, playing out in the forecourt of Crom Hold as grey-snow like matter falls around her, settling on her hair, arms and clothes. In the sky above them, the Red Star hangs like a blood-red circle for the world to see..
Knowing better than to anger her mother, the little girl instantly gets up and wonders through the strange weather to the shelter of the hold’s over hang to stand beside her mother who starts to brush off the ‘snow’ ... stopping and frowning for a second. It doesn’t appear to melt, like snow should..and moves far too lightly.. behaving more like clumps of dust..
Instantly her face pales as she whispers under her breath..

Crack dust, Black Dust..
Turn in Freezing air..
Waste Dust, Space Dust..
From Red Star Bare..

Dragging her daughter in, the woman slams the door and retreats into the hold looking for the lord holder.. her fears laughed at, thread? Thread would never return to Pern now.. it’s been gone for almost 400 turns.. it’s just snow..
...and whilst no one wants to stand up against their lord holder, uncertainty spreads amongst the hold-folk of Crom.. could thread really be back? No one else had reported anything..


((OOC: Izuko will not know about this yet..As you might gather from this post, Pern is split on the return of thread, and those who think it will return are laughed at and thought crazy..but unrest is starting to spread across the ranks.. gossip can fly around holds, and feel free to post ‘random characters’ talking about the gossip in the north.. but Izuko must not even hear the gossip yet..))

[kendrall]

The first to die was a young man named Issen. Agonized, painful screams filled the hut, and it was all his father could do to keep him as comfortable as possible while his mother and younger sister looked on in horror. What appeared to be snow was slowly drifting down, but instead of melting as soon as it came in contact with pale flesh; it seemed to take on a life of its own, burning and burrowing through muscle and sinew, growing in size and devouring as much as it could before the outer shell hardened. Poor Issen was outside when the "snow" started falling, and within moments he started screaming. His father had quickly ran outside and grabbed him, hauling him inside and tried to dust off the "snow" but was too late - burn marks already appeared, as if the lad came in contact with some foreign material, then he began to convulse and shake uncontrollably.

The stench was unbearable, but no one in Issen's family could explain if the awful smell was from the rapidly decomposing flesh or from the hardening filaments. Finally, after a full candlemark passed, the young man gave a final, raw scream, then his chest ceased moving. His mother lost her composure, racing over to the cot and cradling her now-lifeless son's head in her arms, holding it against her chest. She was sobbing uncontrollably, unwilling to believe Issen was gone. Her daughter, too, was in tears, and her father quietly walked over and picked her up, letting the little girl's head rest on his shoulder while she wept.

In the far corner of the room, an old man quietly rocked back and forth in his chair. He was bald-headed and a long white beard extended from his chin, and covered with an old shroud. He was looking outside, and quietly spoke the words that he had heard when he was a young boy, listening to the old men speak of days long past:

Drummer, beat, and piper, blow,
Harper, strike, and soldier, go.
Free the flame and sear the grasses
Till the dawning Red Star passes.

Wheel and turn
Or bleed and burn.
Fly between,
Blue and green.
Soar, dive down,
Bronze and brown
Dragonmen must fly
When Threads are in the sky.

"You still believe that nonsense?" It was the father who spoke, his voice terse. "The days of the Dragonmen are long past, and good riddance. I don't know what this is," he pointed out the window, "but I find it hard to believe that Thread has returned."

The old man - the grandfather - didn't bother turning to look at his son. Instead, his eyes glistened as he watched the events unfold just outside. "I still remember the stories the old ones taught me when I was a young lad. They spoke in riddles and in verse, and knew that one day the Dragonmen would be needed again." the grandfather pointed out the window, up at the Red Star. "The only time Thread ever fell was when the Red Star was in the sky."

"You're a shardin' fool, father," came the response. "If word gets back to the Lord Holder that people think they're seeing Thread, why...he'll have them flogged - or worse, declared Holdless!"

The grandfather finally craned his neck to look at his son. "Then call me a shardin' fool. But heed my words, my son. 'tis best to stay indoors until this passes, but ye'd better find something to burn the ground. Otherwise you won't be able to plant anything for a long, long time. An' don't let the Lord Holder see poor Issen, either. Otherwise he'll say 'twas some beast or otherwise that killed him."

"Then how am I supposed to explain to the other farmers, and to the Lord Holder, that Issen is gone?"

"I'll leave that up to you," the grandfather replied, turning to look back outside the window. "If yer gonna tell the truth, don't be afraid of what others may think about you. But sooner or later, ye'll have to face the fact that Thread's returned."

[goldenauthanth]

ooc: Don't want too many deaths just yet - got something bigger at another hold to follow as soon as i post it up...but Kendrall...i love that post..

[kendrall]

((OOC: That was the only random death I had planned for this part of our overall plot. I had to add a little flair *somehow*...)

[Mik]

((ooc: Yes, beautifully written! And Thread deaths will be happening VERY soon, but not at Crom. c: ))