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Friday, October 12, 2007


Solitary -- An Ona ramble

Someone much wittier than her once said that you get so lonely it begins to make sense. And that made total sense to her. Lars had died a few years ago, Mallerr passing along with him. (She didn't blame that old tom cat, he'd protected her grandpa as well, after all, and was had been getting old.) She had turned dull after that, and it felt that all the life had gone out of her.
Their son was at a mage school, something circle. She considered her son a strange boy. He didn't wake up in the dead of night for no real reason. He looked people in the eyes, no matter how many times she scolded him for that. He had said that it felt natural for him once, and at that she just stared blankly at him in surprise. She didn't understand her son as she had her father, who had shared many of her mannerisms; the tapping of fingers, the hiding under things, insomnia, and the love of watching sunrises. She was a lot less shy than her father, but Uncle said that she reminded him of him everyday.
Lately, she had lost interest in pottery, and relied on her son's sendings to survive. Uncle still asked her if she was going to do a bust of a character, or take a commission. She always murmured no to that and Uncle always sighed at that and went about his business.
She looked out at the lightening eastern sky. Sitting on the city walls like this, as she did every morning since they moved here years ago, she felt content. Not happy, she wouldn't be happy until she saw Lars again, but content all the same.


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