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A crowded Weyr was not a fun place to be. Sure, you might think that hundreds of dragon-loving people might be great company, especially for a girl who has been raised by a dragon-hating mother -- but no, not really. Renna came to Ista Weyr with the highest hopes, and though they were still elevated, things had become, well, tarnished. It had already been a week at the Weyr, and there was still no bed for the teenager to sleep in. In fact, it seemed like every day there were simply more people on the floor. Was it possible that they were losing beds? Or was Ista Weyr just suddenly the dragonrider hotspot? Well, it was certainly hot.

Curled in a dark room, Renna adjusted her loose tunic around her waist. The fabric breathed, sure, but in direct sunlight, it stuck in sweaty clumps to her skin. You'd think that a native Ista girl would know better than to dress in a shirt with sleeves, and yet, here she was, sixteen years old and still dressing like an outsider. Letting out a light sigh, Renna rolled to her side, snuggling up against the rough, scratchy outside of her makeshift pillow. Usually, she'd be out and about by this time in the morning, but really, this spot was just so comfortable -- pleasant smells, complete darkness, privacy.

A sound, like a knock, at her feet. Couldn't be good. Renna pushed up to her elbows, staring at the narrow line of light coming out from under the door. A shadow passed by, making the light flicker. She stilled, silent, incognito. Her silence returned, and the girl breathed out a sigh of relief. She really was getting very good at this whole hiding -- in a flash, the door swung wide open, sending rockets of light filling the room. Renna cursed under her breath, throwing her hands over his eyes as they struggled to adjust.

A deep, hearty voice barked, "What -- who's there? Who's in my pantry?" Renna cracked an almond eye open and met the gaze of a stout woman, arms folded across her chest. "What're you? A stowaway? Get out of that pantry -- NOW." Rolling to sit up, the girl propped her arms up on her knees, rubbing at her eyes with a hand.

"I couldn't find anywhere to sleep," Renna said, eying her discarded boots in the corner of the pantry.

"Go to the barracks. Go to the library. Go to the forest for all I care. Just get out of my pantry." The woman grabbed a broom from the nearest wall, pointing an end at the girl. When Renna didn't stand, she jutted it out toward her, causing the teen to jump.

Slowly, she crawled to a stand. "Give me a break. The candidates' barracks are packed. There is hardly room on the floor. And I've already been kicked out of the library -- twice. And it's probably raining outside. Does it really bother you so much if I sleep in the pantry? No one even needs it at night!" Renna raked a hand through her tangle of hair. She'd shown up here just in time to miss the latest Hatching, there was hardly room for her on the floor, and now a very large woman was kicking her out of her one sanctuary.

A silence fell for a moment, Renna shifting awkwardly and the woman staring her down. "Lots of people got issues here that are a lot more important than where you sleep. Now get OUT." Renna opened her mouth to speak, but the woman was on her, grabbing the girl by the ear and practically dragging her through the kitchen. "Next time I see you in here, you better be working or it's right back out with you." The stout woman relinquished her grip on the girl's ear, and Renna rubbed it, glaring.

Without another word, the strange woman turned on her heel and disappeared back into the kitchen, only returning a moment later to toss Renna's boots out into the hallway. Renna sucked in her bottom lip, muttered a few more curses, and then slipped into her boots. Great. So much for sleeping in the pantry. A group of people carrying heavy baskets of food shoved past the girl, pushing forward into the kitchen. Renna made another disgruntled noise before taking off in a random direction. She had no idea where she was going, but wherever it was, she hoped it was the least populated room in the place.

Having grown up with four sisters, Alstor was not unused to crowded living conditions. The candidate barracks proved no problem for him. He had no qualms about curling up with three or four other people - male or female - on a single mattress for the night. Even the floor was not so much of a problem after the first few minutes, supposing you had enough space to lie comfortably and no one had their feet in your face. In general, he did not terribly mind the dormitories.

But the problem tonight (for him, at least) was not overcrowding. Tonight it was simply unbearably hot. His home had been a bit north of Ista, and the young man was still getting used to the soaring temperatures. Even at night! Indoors! (How much of that was from the body heat of several dozen sleeping teenagers, he did not consider in depth. His healer training reasoned a good deal of it.)

For a while he wandered the corridors of the Weyr, looking for a cool alcove to curl up in. The pantry looked briefly promising, but he'd been ushered out as soon as he'd even stepped into the kitchens - apparently someone else had just tried the exact same thing. He left and resumed his searching, only to come across two other candidates. They also seemed to be disgruntled with the living situation they were expected to endure.

Alstor listened at a distance for a while, and then stepped closer.

"Mayhaps," he shrugged, joining the conversation, "But I'm not sure there's even room in the barracks to even pitch a hammock if you wanted to."

...Candidates, standing about jawflapping in the hallway at this hour of the night? Obstructing the path to her kitchen?

Mirelle wasn't going to stand for it. Shifting the basket of fruit she held to one arm and balancing on her hip, she looked over the children. All faces she hadn't seen before, all disgruntled, and all in front of the kitchen obstructing the actual workers. She was never one to approve of Candidates yakking (after all, they ought be working, and if they weren't working, they ought be someplace out of the way), and this was just...hmph.

Perhaps they were new and needed the guidance of one of their elders. As in, needed to be informed that they'd better sharding well get out of the way and let people work. But Mirelle was willing to admit the possibility that something was actually wrong. And she wouldn't jump to conclusions until the conclusions were close to her. "What seems to be the trouble?" she asked, not unkindly.

Yet.

Arolon listened, imagining an ugly scene where some bully would actually kick the girl out of her hammock. He furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. There had to be somewhere they could get away! He didn't want to physically fight just for a space on the floor, it was horrible that he even had to consider it. Maybe they could find a cave to hide in down at the beach? But no, he had seen earlier that it was raining.

He stiffened defensively when the other woman spoke up. Thankfully her voice didn't seem scolding. He kept quiet for a moment while the girl explained their situation. He doubted the woman would help. If anything she'd suggest a place anywhere but here. Just like the other one did with....oh! He didn't even know the girl's name. Then again, it wasn't easy to remember anyone with so many faces coming and going.

"Even the floors are crowded." Arolon added in, trying to show her that this wasn't just whiney candidates, that they really did have a problem.

"Not everyone's that willing to let you get near them."

He stated plainly, he wasn't talking about them either. He was thinking of the ones that would physically fight for their space. He saw the boy's disdain and felt the same towards the guy. He said it was crowded even for hammocks. He never once mentioned the heat. Ah, now that it seemed to put him in a bad light he sings a different tune?

"Stand near the door, breeze from the storm should cool you off."

He suggested, turning his attention back to the girl. The other guy did have a point.. Did she have any friends that would mind her sleeping alongside them? Groups were safer than trying to protect a sleeping spot alone. He doubted the girl wanted to sleep alongside anyone though. She said she needed to get out.

Renna opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when the basket was thrust into her hands. She glanced down and caught an apple as it threatened to roll out of the basket. "It's always hot," she said, idly. Having grown up in the climate, the heat was not something that gave the young candidate much pause. All she wanted was a little elbow room to keep from having to rub up against a hundred other sweaty bodies.

Sliding the basket to her hip, Renna glanced once to the two male companions and then said, "I am up." Helping out was a distraction from her lack of a comfortable sleeping spot, and the girl was incredibly comfortable in kitchens, always had been. It was one of the reasons she was so sad to leave her treasured pantry sleeping spot. "I'll help." Besides, this woman -- what was her name? -- might be able to help convince that other woman to give Renna her sleeping pantry back.

"I'm Renna," she said, attempting to free a hand to shake with the older woman. The basket tipped dangerously, and Renna gripped at it with both hands. Pausing for a moment, she settled for nodding in greeting at the woman. "I, uh, I really don't know anyone here. At all. Not at all. So... who are you?" Not the most elegant greeting, but it got the job done. It occurred to her that she might want to introduce herself to the two boys behind her, but first thing was first -- make nice with the woman who might be able to help her.

"Makes you wonder why they keep bringing new candidates in, doesn't it? Even though I've lived here all my life I'm treated the same."

The words snagged Moira's attention as she shuffled out of the kitchen, still wiping dishwater and food remnants from between her fingers with a scrap of cloth. The sludge under her nails was dug out with a small splinter of wood from the pile used for fires, cast aside once the crescents of filth had been reduced to only a few elusive specks. With as many candidates as there were, skipping out on chores would have been a relatively simple task. More than a handful had been turned away simply because there was not enough space to accommodate those who had been assigned to the kitchens for the day. Nevertheless, it was far from Moira's intentions to let overcrowding breed laziness.

Sidestepping out of the way of those filing in and out of the kitchens, Moira listened intently to the rest of their conversation, silently cursing as Mirelle took it upon herself to interrupt. It wasn't that she disagreed with the woman's intentions. Candidates were growing lazy, even insolent in the wake of overcrowding. In any other moment Moira might have applauded her intentions. Now, however, they interfered with her desire to get closer to the small group. The boy whose words had drawn her initial attention rubbed her entirely the wrong way. The other boy she decided she could get on with well enough, and the new girl seemed to be of a like mind. In any event, they were worth looking into as potential allies to the cause she shared with O'asis and his small group. If they were intelligent, clever, and discreet, that is. At least two of them seemed promising.

Moira took in one deep breath and calmed her racing mind, throwing the dishtowel over one shoulder as she approached the small group. “Might I join?” She chimed in, directing her question towards the baker with a polite nod. “The kitchens are owercrowded, and I'd rather do something to pass the time than go sit in the barracks and twiddle my thumbs.” Which was true, if not her only motive. She'd done her alloted chores for the day, but scrubbing pots and carrying baskets was far more engaging for Moira than sitting in an overcrowded room listening to people whine about how the spot she'd claimed was more than she needed.

“And I'm afraid,” Moira noted, focusing both her attention and the full measure of her annoyance on Arolon, “that you being Weyrbred doesn't make you so special that they would pass over potentially exceptional candidates just to accommodate you. Having lived here all your life,” Moira stressed the words that echoed his earlier comment, “you should know that you are in no position to question who they bring in or why. You'd do well to suck it up and not complain.” The smile she gave was all to sweet and failed to reach her eyes. If there was one thing she'd had more than enough of, it was people who whined and whined and did nothing to fix the sharding problem. Sincerity came to her expression only when she turned her attention to the other girl, “I have some extra space in the barracks. You'll have to sleep on the floor and we'll need to collect some reeds to make you a bedroll, but you're welcome to it.”

Being rather observant, Renna was completely aware of the spark of disdain that filtered between the new arrival and the boy who had first approached her. She simply chose to ignore it. The young candidate had been a bit of a meddler in her younger years, constantly trying to involve herself in the issues and squabbles of others, but the years she had spent maturing fought to break her of the habit. It didn't hurt that she had a few nasty flare-ups over it, namely a certain incident where a firelizard suddenly became an instrument of torment. She quirked an eyebrow at the pair, shifting the basket she held to the other hip.

"Yes, the barracks," she said, not really accepting or denying the offer. Part of her was holding a flame for that opening in the pantry. She'd like to see that potential through first. The girl opened her mouth to thank the other for the offer, but before she could, the boy who was not Alstor said it for her. Annoying. Renna hated it when people tried to speak on her behalf; it made her feel like they were trying to control her. It bothered her when her mother did it, and it bothered her now. "I can tell her myself, you know," she said, still unaware of what this boy's name was. Renna paused and then turned to the newcomer. "Um, thanks." It seemed stupid to repeat the thanks, but the girl did it anyway, shifting awkwardly. It seemed like a small tribunal had formed over the state of her sleeping arrangements. Apparently the crowded Weyr still managed to leave people with little else to do than be helpful. She was mostly grateful for it.

Renna watched the other girl carefully, evaluating her. She liked her attitude, attacks veiled within observations, and it didn't hurt that the stranger had offered immediately to help Renna. There was something vaguely familiar about this shorter girl, but Renna shrugged it off, chalking it up to the myriad of faces that passed before her each day in the Weyr.

Sensing the approach of an awkward silence, the young candidate glanced back to the woman from the kitchen and smiled.