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