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The shirt wasn't bad at all actually. Too heavy on the frills, but if they were smaller... "Yes," Conomor nodded his approval, "that looks good." It looked impractical and like it would tear at the first sign of hard work, but he wasn't going to be doing any work in such a garment. Just wear it for the feast and then change back afterward, either to care for his dragon or to commiserate with the other failed Candidates.

"Whatever you think would work for the trousers," Conomor added with a nod, "I've really no idea of colour coordination at all... Do you think close-legged trousers would work well with the shirt style?" If so, he'd get himself a nice pair of knee boots, ones that he could wear on other occasions; hard wearing but smart, yes... Well if he had the marks he'd do that. Calf boots would do fine if he didn't, but he'd always vaguely liked the idea of owing some tall boots.

Conomor nodded to the tailor's words, storing the information about cream away in his mind. It was always useful to know bits and pieces about things, and plus he just liked to know for the sake of knowing. From his strong build one might not expected, but one of Conomor's favorite places to be was a library, or lost in the depths of dusty old records.

"That sounds like a good idea, medium cream... It would be good to have something nice to wear to gathers. I usually stand out a bit against all the people in their wonderful clothes." He didn't mind per se but... but there was nothing wrong with taking the time to look nice. If he became a rider he could hardly wander about looking scruffy and or drab at such events. A rider had to do more than just fight the Thread after all. He had to be someone holders and crafters alike could respect. People with disheveled clothes seldom got very much of that.

"Have you been pelted with many orders for feast clothes yet?" Conomor thought to ask after a moment. "It strikes me that I might have left it a little late." There were still a few sevendays until the eggs would hatch, but he suspected many had got their orders in as soon as they'd been laid.

Conomor chuckled softly; he liked that, it was how he'd always thought of it. Some people dressed up like preening flits, and some people just didn't take the trouble. Even so, if he did Impress he would take the trouble from now on. For all that Kita might agree wit him, he knew many would not. The sorts of holders who got sniffy if they requested a message or passenger conveyed and anything less than a bronze turned up.

"I've always been entertained by the garish ones," he admitted with a shake of his head, "I suppose perhaps they're entertained by me as well." If they noticed him at all; some of them could barely see past their own noses. Well, the fools might be a little more grateful for dragon riders soon he supposed. The Thread was coming. If he Impressed, he would know Thread filled skies until he was seventy turns old. It was quite a strange thought, almost overwhelming but there was a shiver of thrill and determination too. If he Impressed, he would fight the destruction that fell from the sky side by side with his dragon, the other part of his soul.

"I don't envy you the building orders," Conomor added with a lopsided smile. "All I have to worry about at the minute is meeting Candidates from outside the Weyr, and getting along with the Candidate master."

Conomor nodded; that made sense of course. Having an apprentice try to make some of the most complex outfits you saw at gathers was like telling a weyrling to hop between to the other side of the continent. "It's been alright so far," Conomor admitted with a shrug. "I'm coping a lot better than all the people coming in from holds and such of course. Having grown up here is a big advantage at first at least, though the sharper ones are picking things up quickly."

The countless hours he'd spent pouring over dragon lore over the years were another advantage. He was in no doubt that there would be new things to learn as the candidate master's lessons progressed, and certainly there would be if he did successfully Impress, but for now everything was just revision of what he had already learned. Some of his fellows were probably getting annoyed with him for having his hand up to answer almost every question put to the class, but he didn't much mind. He'd put in the work, and he wasn't going to hide that just to be a little bit more popular. His true friends would remain his friends, and anyone worth being friends with wouldn't hold it against him.

"I wonder how all the new dragons are going to be fed," Conomor mused aloud as the thought occurred to him. "We're low on herdbeasts as it is and there are, what?, forty new eggs down on the sands?" Space for the new riders wouldn't be an issue at first, they would remain the in the weyrling dormitories but as they grew... Well, things were certainly going to get interesting. Things had to change one way or another soon; forest weyrs during Threadfall were not an option.

Conomor nodded his agreement to that. "Yes, I've no doubt she has a plan already. Probably adult riders will have take their dragons out of the Weyr or something like that, unless there's some way to get more tithes." He doubted that, but it was a possibility he suppose. With the Thread looming so close, holders might be keen to have Ista Weyr look kindly upon them.

"Still, she'll sort it out one way or another I'm sure," Conomor said confidently. She would do; she had to now. He just wanted to know why she'd allowed things to get this bad in the first place. She must have realized she would have to do something about the forest weyrs, about the food, about everything. Why hadn't she? It was a question that bothered him somewhat. The senior weyrwoman was supposed to keep things running smoothly. Slips ups were inevitable, everyone slipped up, but the situation they were all in now smacked strongly of negligence on her part.

Conomor allowed himself a grimace. "I would hope so too." And that was as close as he ever intended to come to criticizing the weyrwoman. Possibly she was foolish, incompetent, whatever but it wasn't his place to say he thought so to anyone. Keeping his reservations about her to himself was definitely the best plan of action.

"There must be a plan in place," Conomor went on with a slight frown, "the Thread will come soon. Perhaps she is just delaying action until the eggs are hatched. Trying to put whatever measures she's come up with into place with her queen's eggs on the sand wouldn't be practical..." But why had it been left until the two queens rose even? He wished he knew, and hoped that it was a good reason.

"In any case," Conomor smiled and shifted his thoughts away from such worries, "I imagine once the eggs hatch there'll be even more work for you and your master. Weyrlings seems to get their clothes ripped and ruined a lot more often than anyone else, and they hardly have the time to do mending for themselves with a young dragons needing their attention every hour of the day."

Conomor grinned and shook his head slightly. "Well, my apologies to him and to you in advance if I become one of those weyrlings. I imagine it must get boring doing the same sort of repair over and over again." He'd tried making repairs to his clothes on various occasions but his stitching was shoddy to say the least. Until now his foster mother had done it for him, but once he was a weryling it wouldn't be fair to expect that of her anymore; he'd either have to shell out the marks to have it done here or learn himself... If he managed to Impress of course. Getting cocky was the last thing he wanted to do.

"How long have you been here at Ista?" Conomor asked after a moment of silence. "I've seen you around the place for a while now but I can't remember when I first saw you." There were so many people around the Weyr, some new ones stayed for good and some vanished after a while. Once he knew someone, he was good at keeping track of them but his memory for strangers was nowhere near as good.

Yes. This was a good place to live. Despite the crowding, the slightly sub-par food and the tension it led to he loved his home. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else myself," he agreed with a smile. "I couldn't really imagine living anywhere else though to be honest. I've only ever left for gathers." Ah. There was going to be one soon, wasn't there? Perhaps if his new clothes were ready by then he'd wear them so that he was comfortable in them come the feast.

"Do you think you could have my smart clothes done in time for the gather coming up at Ista hold?" There was no harm in asking after all... Oh, and he needed to find out how much it was going to cost him. He knew he had enough for the things he had asked for, but if it was payment on finishing he needed to set that amount aside so that he didn't overspend on boots.