5th Summer, 508
Despite the season merely peeking within view, Syna's light burned harshly down on the children of the mountains, the walls themselves covered in a film of heat. Librarians and glassworkers alike found little comfort in the abundant amounts of water they consumed, for the very liquid seemed to leak immediately from their pores only moments later. Some were even claiming that this was the hottest summer yet, though those very few had made the same remarks with annual regularity. However, within the confines of the communal kitchens, a newly marked Avora seemed nearly unfazed, his chest barely damp compared to those of his drenched peers.
"Eoin, here." A sloppy hand ran in and out of his peripheral vision, dropping a bowl of fresh vegetables. Turning, the bright haired boy was about to nod before noticing that he was alone. It was not his first time behind the counter, but he was still not quite used to the speed of the workflow. Even so, he willed himself to do better, be faster, all without sacrificing the quality he wished to put into every meal. Many would laugh at the youth's seriousness, for his current task was to prepare the vegetables, but Eoin was not one to undermine his own efforts. If there was anything the boy was confident in, it was in his own perseverance. One day, he knew, a master chef he would be. And like all great men, they had to start somewhere.
Needless to say, Eoin was an ambitious one.
Gently, his fingers weaved through every leaf, carefully rinsing the hard to reach areas before picking another stalk from the leafy pool below. As he worked his way down to the bottom of the bowl, the Inarta relished the small comfort of the cool water against his wrinkling fingers, nearly forgetting the sweltering heat behind him. Once everything had been washed, Eoin began cutting away. Slowly at first, for he had to position his hand carefully to avoid slicing his own skin, and also to practice how firm his hold should be to avoid any slipping. Eventually he entered a sort of rhythm, albeit a slow one, though none could say that the Avora lacked an attention to detail for each slice was remarkably similar.
The evening rush eventually came to an end, and the kitchens began to empty as satisfied Inartans departed. Though Eoin was a resilient one, he could not help but be tired from the stress and effort, with arms like anvils dangling by his sides. He ignored the discomfort, unwilling to let his body rest just yet. In the meantime, the Avora began cleaning the various equipment, and he would have continued if a Dek had not asked for the plates in his hands. Eoin was surprised, more so at himself than the drudge reeking of lye. How could he forget that they cleaned after the kitchen staff? He supposed they must have hoped to receive an extra food voucher for their efforts, but he doubted they would have the chance to use it. The lowest caste was also the last to eat, and often, many went hungry. What would the slip of paper mean then? Perhaps he was too used to their ghostly presence, too used to seeing the top of their heads for fear and shame cast their gaze downwards. He felt both relieved and haunted to identify in such a way with the his culture, but any doubt entering his mind was a betrayal in itself, for it meant that he was an outsider still, forever looking in. Swallowing quietly, Eoin moved away from the thankful drudge, avoiding physical contact out of habit.
Preoccupied, the young man barely registered his surroundings as he navigated the winding halls, reaching the Yasi Center in just a few chimes. He blinked, staring at the entrance before slowly turning away, counting himself lucky that none had witnessed his embarrassment. It had not been long since Eoin had called the area his home, but the idea was far more pleasant than the reality. Being such a quiet and introverted individual, the other children often teased or bullied a younger Eoin. Unfortunately, he was involved in one too many brawls with a mosaic of bruises to show for it, as patience was not a virtue he was born with. Even now, he was only beginning to control his temper, though it certainly helped that most of his tormentors were far too preoccupied with their respective jobs to give him any attention.
Recovering from his mistake, Eoin proceeded toward the common rooms, passing by the Courtyard of the Sky on his way. There, he gradually came to a halt, for the sight of the moon had caught his attention, its light a lonely grey amidst the sea of stars. Breathing in the night wind, the Avora could feel a chill from the drying sweat covering his body, cool fingers brushing timidly against his skin. In this moment of clarity, he thought of the past, of the misguided notions of a young boy and the rash decisions of a young man. Those decisions brought him here, before the quiet judgement of Leth's light. Religion was never a large part of his life, but Eoin always had a natural inclination toward Syna and Leth, the two halves, duality. Too many times had he neglected Leth's presence for sleep took him easily, but now he shared a memory with the god that he could never show to Syna. It would not do any good to bring his demons to light, and at times he wondered if there would ever be such a time.
Despite the season merely peeking within view, Syna's light burned harshly down on the children of the mountains, the walls themselves covered in a film of heat. Librarians and glassworkers alike found little comfort in the abundant amounts of water they consumed, for the very liquid seemed to leak immediately from their pores only moments later. Some were even claiming that this was the hottest summer yet, though those very few had made the same remarks with annual regularity. However, within the confines of the communal kitchens, a newly marked Avora seemed nearly unfazed, his chest barely damp compared to those of his drenched peers.
"Eoin, here." A sloppy hand ran in and out of his peripheral vision, dropping a bowl of fresh vegetables. Turning, the bright haired boy was about to nod before noticing that he was alone. It was not his first time behind the counter, but he was still not quite used to the speed of the workflow. Even so, he willed himself to do better, be faster, all without sacrificing the quality he wished to put into every meal. Many would laugh at the youth's seriousness, for his current task was to prepare the vegetables, but Eoin was not one to undermine his own efforts. If there was anything the boy was confident in, it was in his own perseverance. One day, he knew, a master chef he would be. And like all great men, they had to start somewhere.
Needless to say, Eoin was an ambitious one.
Gently, his fingers weaved through every leaf, carefully rinsing the hard to reach areas before picking another stalk from the leafy pool below. As he worked his way down to the bottom of the bowl, the Inarta relished the small comfort of the cool water against his wrinkling fingers, nearly forgetting the sweltering heat behind him. Once everything had been washed, Eoin began cutting away. Slowly at first, for he had to position his hand carefully to avoid slicing his own skin, and also to practice how firm his hold should be to avoid any slipping. Eventually he entered a sort of rhythm, albeit a slow one, though none could say that the Avora lacked an attention to detail for each slice was remarkably similar.
The evening rush eventually came to an end, and the kitchens began to empty as satisfied Inartans departed. Though Eoin was a resilient one, he could not help but be tired from the stress and effort, with arms like anvils dangling by his sides. He ignored the discomfort, unwilling to let his body rest just yet. In the meantime, the Avora began cleaning the various equipment, and he would have continued if a Dek had not asked for the plates in his hands. Eoin was surprised, more so at himself than the drudge reeking of lye. How could he forget that they cleaned after the kitchen staff? He supposed they must have hoped to receive an extra food voucher for their efforts, but he doubted they would have the chance to use it. The lowest caste was also the last to eat, and often, many went hungry. What would the slip of paper mean then? Perhaps he was too used to their ghostly presence, too used to seeing the top of their heads for fear and shame cast their gaze downwards. He felt both relieved and haunted to identify in such a way with the his culture, but any doubt entering his mind was a betrayal in itself, for it meant that he was an outsider still, forever looking in. Swallowing quietly, Eoin moved away from the thankful drudge, avoiding physical contact out of habit.
Preoccupied, the young man barely registered his surroundings as he navigated the winding halls, reaching the Yasi Center in just a few chimes. He blinked, staring at the entrance before slowly turning away, counting himself lucky that none had witnessed his embarrassment. It had not been long since Eoin had called the area his home, but the idea was far more pleasant than the reality. Being such a quiet and introverted individual, the other children often teased or bullied a younger Eoin. Unfortunately, he was involved in one too many brawls with a mosaic of bruises to show for it, as patience was not a virtue he was born with. Even now, he was only beginning to control his temper, though it certainly helped that most of his tormentors were far too preoccupied with their respective jobs to give him any attention.
Recovering from his mistake, Eoin proceeded toward the common rooms, passing by the Courtyard of the Sky on his way. There, he gradually came to a halt, for the sight of the moon had caught his attention, its light a lonely grey amidst the sea of stars. Breathing in the night wind, the Avora could feel a chill from the drying sweat covering his body, cool fingers brushing timidly against his skin. In this moment of clarity, he thought of the past, of the misguided notions of a young boy and the rash decisions of a young man. Those decisions brought him here, before the quiet judgement of Leth's light. Religion was never a large part of his life, but Eoin always had a natural inclination toward Syna and Leth, the two halves, duality. Too many times had he neglected Leth's presence for sleep took him easily, but now he shared a memory with the god that he could never show to Syna. It would not do any good to bring his demons to light, and at times he wondered if there would ever be such a time.
