He could't help the wide grin that showed his white teeth, surprised at the unexpected warmth suffusing his chest. He knew his sister loved him. That was something he could never doubt. Still, to hear her say it...he was touched.
Smiling, he joked to hide the strong emotion "Never?" The words were punctuated by a loud whistle as the train came to a stop. He grabbed his bag- not hers. She didn't like to be coddled.- and followed her out into the day light. The sun was bright overhead, the air hot- the car had been air-conditioned- and somewhat muggy, this time of year. They were 185 km from the Red Sea, though he was not sure if that had anything to do with it.
His education was fairly limited, given his being raised Qdus. It was something he regretted. Though which of those two things it was, was anyone's guess- including himself.
They hailed a ride and headed for the Chapel of the Tablet.The peace from the trainride and his talk with Sesuna leeched away as they approached the monastery. His eyes were not drawn like metal shavings to a lodestone to the structure, though. No, instead it was one of the outlying buildings, a single one in particular. His eyes stared past the black robed men and women walking the grounds.
There she stood, waiting. She was tiny, black habit covering her so that only her dark brown face showed. They exited the car, but he just stood there, bag in hand, staring at her from 10 or 15 meters away. His sister was next to him, head at his shoulders, and his hand instinctively reached for hers, squeezing briefly before release. He had never done that before, needed a touch to give him strength.
After a moment, he walked forward, and the woman seemed to shrink even as she grew closer. She peered up at him, black eyes deep and mysterious, though not without a twinkle in them. Her tattoos, three vertical lines dyed dark green, as was her lower lip, gave her tribe, Tigre. His family's was Blien and their mother had worn hers proudly.
Her voice cracked as she spoke. "Welcome home Idris, my son." She looked at his sister. "And you my daughter. You both have done well. Your vision was true, it seemed." Her lip curved into a knowing smile. "How does it feel to know you both have been marked as chosen."
Did she know how her words would cut him to his heart? The burden of prophecy crashed on him, bearing him down to the red clay as he dropped to his knees, head down, hands clawing at the earth. It was too much. Too much.
Smiling, he joked to hide the strong emotion "Never?" The words were punctuated by a loud whistle as the train came to a stop. He grabbed his bag- not hers. She didn't like to be coddled.- and followed her out into the day light. The sun was bright overhead, the air hot- the car had been air-conditioned- and somewhat muggy, this time of year. They were 185 km from the Red Sea, though he was not sure if that had anything to do with it.
His education was fairly limited, given his being raised Qdus. It was something he regretted. Though which of those two things it was, was anyone's guess- including himself.
They hailed a ride and headed for the Chapel of the Tablet.The peace from the trainride and his talk with Sesuna leeched away as they approached the monastery. His eyes were not drawn like metal shavings to a lodestone to the structure, though. No, instead it was one of the outlying buildings, a single one in particular. His eyes stared past the black robed men and women walking the grounds.
There she stood, waiting. She was tiny, black habit covering her so that only her dark brown face showed. They exited the car, but he just stood there, bag in hand, staring at her from 10 or 15 meters away. His sister was next to him, head at his shoulders, and his hand instinctively reached for hers, squeezing briefly before release. He had never done that before, needed a touch to give him strength.
After a moment, he walked forward, and the woman seemed to shrink even as she grew closer. She peered up at him, black eyes deep and mysterious, though not without a twinkle in them. Her tattoos, three vertical lines dyed dark green, as was her lower lip, gave her tribe, Tigre. His family's was Blien and their mother had worn hers proudly.
Her voice cracked as she spoke. "Welcome home Idris, my son." She looked at his sister. "And you my daughter. You both have done well. Your vision was true, it seemed." Her lip curved into a knowing smile. "How does it feel to know you both have been marked as chosen."
Did she know how her words would cut him to his heart? The burden of prophecy crashed on him, bearing him down to the red clay as he dropped to his knees, head down, hands clawing at the earth. It was too much. Too much.