Inheiritance

[PippinTook]

ooc: HOLY CRAP. You two never cease to amaze me. *applaudes* YIPPEE. Ahem, anytime now we'll get Arya in here and Banuien can do some more memory thingies and make us all go, "HOLY CRAP!". I'd like to post, but I'm afraid nothing I've got compares to all that. Pssh.

ic: Eragon had no idea Banuien and Siuahn were that close. He thought that he knew Banuien, but he wasn't even close. He didn't really know anybody that well. None of his family remained, and then there was Brom, who was like a father to him. But Brom was gone. Now he felt like the outsider, he had come into something that had lasted longer than he could perceive. He was alone. But there was Saphira. In his desperation for some comfort, he called out to her, but she did not answer. She had taken flight and was too far to reach.

"I'm really tired," he mumbled, "I'm going to bed." he set his wine glass down and cursed the way his voice kept breaking. He walked into his room, it was comfortable with a bed and a chair. He fell onto the bed, face buried in the pillow. What was he doing here? He should be at home, harvesting grain or mucking out stalls. He was only a fifteen-year-old orphan with no family to speak of. He sighed, he thought they were going to get a break from depression, but he seemed to just be falling further.

What could he do in this war? He could hardly use his own sword. Most likely he'd end up sitting on his dragon and letting her do all the work. But he couldn't do that. He had to protect her, and all these people, and his friends. Not solely, of course, they could protect themselves, he was sure. But he felt a responsibility to all of them. The enslaved people of the Empire. And here he was–moping.

Eragon sat up, angry with himself, wiped his tears and looked determinedly at the wall. Then someone opened the door...