Weyr Life Drabbles: Prompt word #12: "Grey"
N'ton suppressed a shudder, and drew his face back from the eyepiece. The Weyr was calm and safe, if rather cold at this late hour. The sky was black with night, not darkened by the grey banks of encroaching Threadfall.
Nothing like the Red Star, a whole world engulfed in the exact same sickly shades. N'ton couldn't help seeing patterns in the shifting features, people and creatures, all slowly disassembled by the roiling clouds. Except backwards-pointing Nerat, an unchanging mirror image of the consequence of failure.
How could they fight that, or ever rid this world of Thread for good?
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chesneycat) wrote,
