2024-07-20 - [7.2] Environmental Factors

’Shoo! Shoo! Puppies, the lot of you!’

Courth's roiling storm does nothing stuck behind a canvas wall, the bursts of static doing more to upset the eggs around him than the actual humans who still didn’t seem to consistently react. Some people noticed, and others didn’t. These tiny little pin pricks of thought that have been fluttering around the back of the tent near him all day, like a hive of industry (but the wrong kind), don’t notice either.

The more the weyr wonders about the bonding choices of the clutch, the more chaotic life seems to get. People in, and out, and in, and touching, and talking and making choices for them all. It’s maddening, frustrating, the bane of Courth’s limited existence. There’s no escape from the sheer noise of contemplation happening in the weyr and it feels like the world is going to break open from the weight. There’s an endless stream of ‘oh that one’s large, it must hatch into something strong’ – he didn’t care about being strong!

He’s not even hatched, and already the weyr wants him to do something they want. Well he’ll do something alright.

’Go! Leave! Stop it, you’re not allowed. Don’t you know there are rules!’ Even though it doesn’t stop the giggling, or make them stop coming back again and again, Courth rages against the little things he feels he can still control. He certainly won’t be choosing one of these kinds of humans, when the time comes.