Day 77: Tacons are Agoraphobic

They protest it’s not like the gentle swaying of a ship more an incessant vibration than a rocking.  I’ve never been to sea, so I politely nod.   Then they complain about the noises.  I nod again.  Ah’Taconschientee possesses a quiver and a clamor of course–I just don’t understand their objection.

I am one of the few Tacons to deboard and only one of three to travel to their capitol city of Dambor.  The month long trip was painfully quiet.  I thought I’d go mad from the vastness of the desert and the emptiness of the silence.  They thought I had gone mad when I asked to be moved to what they called a closet nearest the noisy wheelhouse.

Not much their to go on, but I guess this guy’s agoraphobic.  Probalby ought to read up on that before I get too far into his character.

Word count: 145