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"They always say that, how do the dragons really know though? I mean really? Has a dragon ever made a mistake?" No one ever mentioned such a thing in any lesson he'd ever been to, was it really so impossible though? Nathail really didn't want to even think about it but really.. what if a dragon did make a mistake someday.. what would it do. What would happen to the whole clutch if one of them made a mistake, the whole Weyr.

"Er, well I guess I'd stay here if I could find a job I wouldn't fail at, or break anything. My mother thought I could be a weaver like her until I managed to break a loom of hers. Don't ask." Hey it wasn't even his fault that stool he'd tripped over had been out in the middle of his path anyway. "It'd be really strange to not be around dragons after coming here though, I can admit to that."

"Well..yeah there's those, but I meant a mistake the dragon.. you know regretted later on? Like, a dragon that chose their match.. but it wasn't.. theirs.. It's impossible to happen, right?" Nathail quirks a brow just slightly at Conomor's trailing off.. not giving a comment to that opinion, or voting to snap him out of it just yet. Whatever he was trailing off to.

"Logic.. heh well then there's a good thing I never really cared for that kind of thing anyway huh? Too much thinking involved." Nathail grins and leans back to look out over the water. "Yeah, but it can't be that hard right? I mean I don't think any dragon of high power would look at me so I'd be safe from having to put any opinions in to the big stuff." That had a nice ring to it, when they found their dragons. Not if. If was a harsh word to use thinking about such a big part of their lives..

"Oh!" Conomor blinked and rearranged his thoughts in light of Nathail's clarification. "I... well I've never heard of it happening," he said with a shrug. "I suppose if it did, the dragon and rider would keep it to themselves... I don't know. It's an interesting question certainly." A slightly worrying one. what if a dragon chose him, and later in life told him it wished it hadn't? He couldn't imagine that. All the rider/dragon pairs he had ever seen seemed to adore one another, though some were more obvious in their affection than others. So it seemed at any rate. Could some of them be pretending? He hoped not.

"I'd like to be involved in big decisions," Conomor admitted after a moment, turning his thoughts aside from wondering if all pairs truly felt right together. "As I say though, I'd hate the cronies people with power seem to get so... I'm not sure. I have a lot of ideas, and I feel they're decent ones, I feel as though I could handle a position of responsibility well but..." He trained off again and shrugged. "I suppose I'll just have to wait and see what dragon chooses me and work from there."

He was sure that his dragon and he would fit together better than glove and hand. It was how things were supposed to work, how they did work, how they would work... At least so everyone said. Now that Nathail had raised the subject he couldn't help but ponder it. In all likelihood he would eventually come to the conclusion that dragons did always choose the person they were meant to be with... but so very few hatchlings went between. Did that mean they just chose the best option available? What of the dragons who left their shells last? They had much less choice, yet almost without fail every one of them Impressed. Clearly there was some element of making the best of things and yet... yet it seemed to work. When he found his dragon, he would have to ask and see if it could explain things to him.

Conomor smiled, gratified by his companions words. "That's what I hope, certainly. I don't see how all the dragons manages to pass over you... Still, I suppose the right one just wasn't there. Next time." Next time. He hoped, he hoped for both of them. Their dragons had to come, right? Had to happen eventually. Had to.

"Still," the stocky boy smiled wryly, "I suppose for now we'll just have to get on with our chores, once I can do them again anyway, and wait for the next queen to rise. It'll be pretty soon, for sure." Then there would be even less space. Egh. He really hoped something was done soon; conditions were getting ridiculous. At this rate people were going to start begrudging his mother her comfortable quarters, ones she had inhabited all her life. The two of them didn't need all the space they had, but he knew she'd hate to be uprooted and shoved somewhere else. He'd hate it too come to that; he liked his little alcove.

Conomor nodded. "Yes, you can try until you're twenty one turns, and each queen will rise about once a turn at the moment. Our chances are as good as they could ever be really." They would both Impress. He was sure. Fairly sure. Sort of. "It does happen," he went on in response to Nathail's comment about Queens. "Many Weyrs have two or three adult queens. You only tend to hear about the senior queen though; the oldest one who still rises. Given how small Ista is, we can only really support two queens at a stretch... I'm sure there are plans in the works to deal with that though. Can hardly have forest weyrs when the Thread comes."

He'd been increasingly worried about that over the last turn. Certainly there was no sign of action at the moment, but perhaps whatever it was, was being done in secret. What were the options, really? The other Weyrs, he heard, were somewhat crowded right now as well so there could hardly be mass transfers... The only other option he was was to establish a new Weyr. It was the only logical option, and no doubt it had been thought of and was being acted upon.

Why had it taken this long though? Why had nothing been done turns ago? He just couldn't get his head around it no matter how he thought. Yes, the senior weyrwoman probably had a lot of things to consider but surely this should have been a priority. It should have been dealt with when riders were ordered to share their weyrs, or move into forest weyrs. Humm. Well, perhaps they'd been waiting for there to be enough riders to establish a Weyr of reasonable size. That made sense he supposed; no good having only fifty pairs or something. Right. That was probably it.

"I must admit I don't look forward to going back to chores," Conomor added after some moments with a smile. "I has been quite nice to have a break, even if I had to break my arm to get it. Not something I want to make a habit of, but no harm in making the most of the freedom."

Conomor groaned good-naturedly and shook his head as Gilden, as if summon by her name, shot back out of the water and flew over to land in Conomor's lap. Once there, she walked in a tight circle a few times before curling up and closing her eyes.

Conomor grimaced slightly at the soggy presence but stroked her fondly all the same. "I'd better not get myself ruled out of the next hatching," he said with another shake of his head, "I'm getting really tired of my bad luck. It has to stop eventually." He felt pretty good about the coming hatching actually; he might even make it to the clutch that hardened on the sands right now.

"It is a lot of dragons," he went on thoughtfully, "and I'm certain there's some plan in the works. They're probably just waiting for the right moment to implement it." Quite what the right moment was he had no idea, but there surely was one.

Conomor sighed and nodded his agreement. "People shout and scream at one another but never really listen. It's stupid; everyone should get a chance too speak their piece in any argument - or discussion - but it never seems to go that way. I suppose it's hard to think about logic when you're furious, though." Fury wasn't something he was accustomed to experiencing; he was more... focused, he supposed, than most people seemed to be. More analytical.

"It'll be nice to have somebody to stand with on the sands," he went on with a smile. "I know plenty of people; the weyrbrats especially but I don't think that many of them really like me. They don't dislike me by and large, but I'm not the sort they'd choose to hang around with." He'd brought than on himself and, honestly, he didn't mind it. He liked company and would welcome a friend to stand beside come the hatching, but he was happy to be alone when there was nobody to be around. Gave him time to study, after all.

Conomor gave a lopsided grin and shook his head. "Probably something like that. When I don't have someone specific to be with I tend to end up near people who either look down their noses at me for enjoying learning things, or people who just ignore me and behave... Well, like most adolescent men behave; lots of belching and farting and boasting about the size of their equipment." Usually he just rolled his eyes and walked away from encounters such as those, but on the hatching sands you couldn't just wander about as you liked really. Find someone you know and walk in with them; that was the thing to do.

"I don't think it excuses it either," he said with a shrug, returning to the other topic of conversation. "It explains but it doesn't excuse. A lot of people seem to think it does though; they words and deeds said and done in anger ought to be excused." Everybody was responsible for their own actions; in his opinion anyone who tried to wheedle out of that wasn't worth a moment of anyone's time.