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 Posted: Tue May 05, 2009 4:50 am
02.01 Hatching [Tropical Fish]: Candidates
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Posted: Tue May 05, 2009 4:52 am
02.02 Post-Hatching Feast [Tropical Fish]: Annelie, Yansanth, et al.
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Posted: Tue May 05, 2009 4:58 am
02.03 Party All the Time: Kyllae
Tyia47
Why, where was everybody? Kyllae stomped her foot. Really now? There was hardly anybody out at the lake at this point? Maybe because the sky was a little overcast? But really, it wasn't like it was going to rain or anything. And it was still pleasantly warm. Stupid people didn't know how to have any fun! Kyllae took a small swig of wine from her flask. Oh well. She could always party by herself! She was Kyllae! Self-proclaimed party queen. And she knew how to have fun...but it was always more fun when she had company. Really.
Everyone here at the Weyr was so serious. All the dragonriders so busy with their dragons, all the candidates so busy with chores; they never stopped to enjoy themselves. Sure, she was a candidate too, but she still found time for herself. A lot of time, in fact. Doing what you were told was mundane. Chores were a bore. As soon as she was done with them...it was party time! She was quite proficient by now at getting her hands on wine, or any other form of alcohol. After all, what was a party without drinks?
She pulled up her shirt to scratch her stomach a little, not self conscious in the slightest. She hiccuped and laughed, burped a little, and laughed harder. See, she was having fun already! She couldn't help but glance around though, looking for a recruit. She would steal someone or other to party with her! Maybe even two people? Three or four or five? She snapped her fingers, an alternative to clapping, since her other hand was busy clutching the flask. Yes! What a brilliant idea! People! She had the vague notion in her mind that she might be getting slightly drunk, but that hardly dissuaded her. In all reality, it would just egg her on. If other people saw how much fun she was having, wouldn't they want to join in too? Now to find her first victim!
Cihiru
In the last candlemark or two, Selden has become acutely aware he should have found something else to do. Finishing chores is all well and good ─ he appreciates a sense of accomplishment as well as anyone ─ but idle hands often make for a busy mind, and he has much on his mind with which to be busy. There's little he dislikes more than that. It isn't that he's a particularly deep sort; he's more of an instinctive person, not the type to over-think and over-complicate things. It's just that, here, he's far out of his element, and the outrageous stupidity of it all (namely, his being here) has caused him to fall into the more broody side of his demeanor. It's a nuisance, and he can't stand it. Unfortunately, circumstance often acts something like a viscous circle. His feeling frustrated with himself tends to make him even more withdrawn and dour, which serves only to make him more annoyed, and inevitably, broody. This is one of those times.
He's sitting at the lake's edge, his legs stretched out and bare feet close enough to touch the water now and then. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Selden has the notion he's glad the sun's not too terribly bright, and therefor, it's not as hot as it could be, but mostly, he's just berating himself. He's been doing that a lot lately, come to think of it. Ever since he came here, compulsively, on dragonwing, leaving his craft and Hall far behind him, it seems like he's had little else on his mind. Consciously, Selden's not sure if it's because he hasn't had the time for anything else, or if it's because he really has been thinking about nothing but what a deadglow he is. It may be a bit, or a lot of both.
Either way, that's how it is. He's a deadglow, and now he's here at Ista, a Smith pretending, poorly, to be a Candidate. Selden sighs, heavy with a sense of self-exasperation, and wills his blue eyes to focus on the his surroundings so his mind will stop combing over his own idiocy. At least Ista's a nice looking place. Weyrbowls aren't typically much to look at, in his opinion ─ he saw Telgar's, once ─ but Ista manages to maintain a tropical look, despite the lack of tropical vegetation to go with it. He's not one to dwell over the 'why,' but it almost makes up for the horrid heat and humidity.
The dragons are also a welcome distraction; he can spot some resting up on the crest of the bowl, and someone bathing a very content looking green. Even though he thinks himself far more suitable a Smith than he does a dragonrider, he could watch them for a very long time. Despite their massive size, there's something serene and comforting about a dragon relaxed.
Then the sound of… fairly obnoxious laughter snags his attention. He sighs again, wincing, and mourns briefly the loss of his relative silence. Selden doesn't turn around to seek the source though. Maybe if he ignores it, it will go away.
Tyia47
Fortune was smiling upon her, it seemed. It didn't take her nearly as long to find someone to hang out with as she would have thought. There was a dragonman or two with their dragons. And she was bold enough to ask them. But she figured someone bathing their dragon wouldn't be that good a party mate.
No, she was looking for someone who looked bored, or at least without anyone to do. As her eyes fell on Selden, she knew she'd found her target. He looked...bored? Reflective? Annoyed? She couldn't tell that well from this distance. What a great excuse to get closer!
She gingerly picked her way along the water's edge, awfully graceful for someone close to intoxication. Well, she had experience with drink, she knew how to be somewhat composed. And besides, she loved the water, but she didn't fancy being wet at the moment. She was going to do her chores soon, and she didn't want to be wet for that. It would be a bother, and make her a dirt magnet. Kyllae hated to be dirty.
"'Lo there!" she called, when she was a dozen or so yards away. "You look lonely, bored, pensive, brooding. Perhaps I can fix that for you!" She laughed, but not raucously this time, sweetly, mildly, almost teasing. After all, now she had a guest! Once she was closer, she extended a hand, smiling, eyes only slightly distant from drink. "I'm Kyllae." She offered, hoping he would see fit to offer his own name, and hand, in return. It wasn't like she was being rude, at the moment.
Cihiru
He had known it was too much to hope. Life has proven it has a way of doing this. It knows exactly what he doesn't want to happen, and then it goes and does exactly that. Selden doesn't consider himself to have particularly bad luck or anything; he just finds life has a healthy, if somewhat unfortunate sense of humor. He typically makes a point of keeping himself from being overly optimistic because of it. And he had gone and dared to hope anyway.
Still, it comes as no surprise when a voice parts the slightly damp air. He had been expecting it, he supposes. The idea of persistent ignoring crosses his mind. Then whoever it is speaks again, and at that point, he figures no good will come of pretending she isn't there She seems that sort. Too bad, really.
"Nothing to fix," he responds instead, sounding far more dismissive than conversational. Pensive and brooding may be apt accusations, but he's never lonely, and he certainly doesn't need her assistance with a problem that doesn't exist. There's nothing wrong with enjoying his solitude.
But then, things never do work that way. People don't let them. He knows it, but it doesn't make him like it, and it's with less enthusiasm than is probably polite he turns enough to greet her. "Selden." His return is as chilly and blunt as his expression is impassive, but he does offer a hand, rough with the callouses of manual labor, and takes hers in a firm, but not crushing shake. Despite himself, he does have some inkling on how to be proper. Even though, really, he doubts she's much of a 'proper' sort. She has that type of look to her.
Tyia47
Kyllae shook his hand, noting the firmness of his grip. She liked that trait in a person. There was a lot you could learn about someone by the way they shook hands. Something told her that he wasn't exactly pleased that she was here...but Kyllae wasn't the kind of person to really act on that. Why, he was just a little reserved! She would need to make him smile, enjoy himself. He looked so solemn.
She took the liberty of sitting down next to him, though not so close as to invade his personal space. She sipped lightly on her flask, eyeing him curiously. "Selden, hm? Nice name," she commented, checking her nails. Kyllae was quite big on personal hygiene, she had to make sure her hands weren't dirty. Without looking up, she addressed him again, trying to lure him into feeling more comfortable with typical candidate small-talk. "Any thoughts on the upcoming clutch? The queen's awfully antsy, I think they'll be hatching any time now. Think you have any chance at impressing?" at this last part she offered him a smile.
Oh it was a joke, almost, to talk about impressing. There were a ridiculous amount of candidates. Even with these large clutches as of late...there were still many more candidates than dragons. And what about the clutch size? Supposedly the clutches were getting larger and more frequent, because thread was coming? Hrm, maybe. Kyllae wasn't sure what to think about thread. It was supposedly bad. If the old stories and songs were to be believed. She'd asked Argentina about it once, what he thought about it, and according to him, it was supposedly a nice snack...that's what she got for asking a dolphin, she supposed.
In a rare quiet moment, Kyllae mourned her loss of Argentina. She could always leave, she supposed. Go back to Southern, and to Dolphineering...but someone, she was a part of the weyr now. If she went back to southern, she wanted to go on dragonback. Wouldn't that be something! Argentina would be so amazed! But, it was rude to reflect so while entertaining, she had to pay more attention to her guest! She pushed memories aside in favor of the present, and in favor of Selden.
Cihiru
The moment a person takes it on himself to get comfortable, Selden's learned to read it as a sure sign he doesn't plan on going anywhere any time soon. While he is more than a little asocial, even he isn't insensitive enough to just get up and walk away. He really is stuck with her, then. So be it. He suppresses the urge to sigh.
"Thanks," he says, flatly. Names always did seem rather a pointless thing to compliment, to him. It isn't like he chose his himself. Selden… From his parents, Adenar and Seleas. That's all it is. Nothing special. It doesn't really even sound that great to his ears. But maybe she thinks it does, he tells himself. Maybe she feels differently.
Probably not.
People never were that good at being sincere. Usually, he can tell. She's likely just trying to be friendly. They do that often, as though he wants, or somehow needs their effort. Selden is fairly sure he makes it more than obvious he does not, but then, he may be mistaken. They certainly seem to think so often enough. Small talk is a common consequence. "I heard it was small." Actually, it's rather remarkable he knows even that much. He's typically the sort of person to make sure he's out of earshot from absolutely everyone.
He's not really one for 'thoughts' though. The only thing he's bothered thinking about is the answer he supplies to her next question: "Me? Never." Especially not since he intends to stand only once. His certainty of his inadequacy might lead one to wonder what exactly he's doing here. Selden's still trying to figure that one out himself. Sure, he makes a sharding good smith. But a dragonman? Not likely.
Which leads him back to his original train of thought, and the brooding she had so kindly interrupted. There's no sense bemoaning it now, though. Even if the eggs do crack any day now, he's still sure he'll have plenty of time between now and then to ruminate. And it's not like his agonizing is doing him even an ounce of good, anyway. What's done is done. A few sevendays away from the Hall isn't going to kill anyone; it's unlike him to put so much effort into something so trivial. So, for now, he refuses.
"You?" he asks instead.
Tyia47
Selden seemed a tough nut to crack! He certainly didn't seem to be very open. She pondered offering him a drink, but he didn't seem like the type to accept. Maybe later, if she got him a little more comfortable...then she'd try.
Kyllae, amazingly enough, was sincere. She was a champion liar, if the situation called for it, but, hey...why lie now? When she was idling, talking, making friends. Sincerity was her ally at the moment. Maybe he would pick up on it. Maybe not. It was a small matter.
"Hrm, I don't know, really," she admitted. "If I don't impress now...it's just because there's not a dragon right for me! I'll wait until there is. There's plenty here to keep me occupied in the meantime." she stated, puffing up a little with pride. Why, people like Selden were the ones who kept her busy!
"You'd be surprised at who impresses though! My cousin T'ka, she was a smith, and the last person I'd ever expect to impress, she was so into her craft and all, but, oddly enough, she impressed the first time she stood! Amazing, huh?" Kyllae laughed. She decided to leave out the fact that Haanyath was possibly the nastiest dragon on the face of Pern.
"Don't be so glum about your prospects. Dragons are fickle, you know," she informed, as if he hadn't heard, or something. Kyllae just liked to talk, was part of it. She loved her voice. It did have a rather pleasant sound to it. Other people had told her that, too! She smiled more, drawing circles in the dirt with her finger. Eventually outlining a dragon.
Cihiru
Well, that is one way of looking at it. Selden isn't entirely sure he'd care to subscribe to that train of thought ─ he's still fairly adamant there is no dragon for him ─ but supposedly a little optimism never hurt anyone. It's probably what most of the Candidates tell themselves. That there's always next time.
Briefly, he wonders what it must be like to stand, time after time, never knowing if that 'next time' is even coming. He never has been one to hinge his life on such random uncertainty. He likes it when things are predictable. When they're planned. Maybe the not knowing is most of his objection to this whole ordeal. After all, he had a steady, reliable future, and he went and willingly threw it away for a maybe. Selden can't even fathom what possessed him to do it. But he can always go back, he keeps reminding himself. He hasn't lost it forever.
"What if there isn't?" A dragon for her, he means, though the question is largely a rhetorical one, posed more to himself than it is to her. He's answered it already inside his own mind. Yes, he'll stand this once, endure his own brashness for a sevenday, or however long it takes, and then he'll go back. He'll pick up where he left off, and he'll finish off the end of his apprenticeship. Selden is sure he can do it within the next turn, and right now, that reality appeals to him far more than any fantasy. The thought of it ─ a plan ─ sets him more at ease, and this time it's a relieved sigh he squelches.
She makes it sound as though that cousin of hers had the same idea. Impressing the first time she stood? "It's something." Amazing? Maybe. He wonders if it happens often; if that could be him. They sometimes say the dragons know best. He wonders about that too.
When it comes down to it, he doesn't really want to Impress. It isn't that the idea repulses him or anything. He's not so in love with his Hall he'd shun the Weyrs entirely, and he isn't so taken in by a sense of security he'd ever question the need of dragons. It's just that… he's loyal to his craft; infatuated with it, maybe, like she is with dragons. Her scribbling hasn't escaped his seemingly distant eyes. "So are people," he replies, distractedly.
Tyia47
Kyllae smirked, giving him another look over as she sipped at her drink. "You're keener than you let on, Selden. Aye, I would say people are fickle. If anything is to be said of a rider pair, it's that the dragon's the sane one." with a quick motion of her hand she rubbed out the image in the dirt, leaving no trace. "Maybe they have it easy because they don't remember well. Maybe the curse of humans is that we're forced to recall all our past mistakes." She unconsciously scratched at her side, where, underneath her shirt, lay a mark of one of her mistakes. Small scars in the shape of a half circle. A reminder of her carelessness, and the viciousness of sea monsters. But, not one to be down long, Kyllae shook it off, her face never reflecting the momentary lapse of good humor.
Rhetorical or not though, Kyllae was happy to have Selden talking. Of course there's a dragon for me! I've got about three years. And with three queens, laying more often and larger...it would seem the odds are in my favor. Though I won't tempt fate by declaring that I'll impress for sure, mind you." she took another swig of wine. "All truth be told, my chances of impressing at the upcoming hatching are slim, there aren't that many eggs. And there are a lot of candidates. But chances are that, eventually, I'll get lucky." She paused for a moment, chewed her lip for a moment, and chuckled. "Hrm, that was an odd last sentence. The chance to get lucky."
Kyllae was acting a little odd. She wasn't normally so thoughtful or reflective, especially not while other people were around. But perhaps, unconsciously, she was trying to bring herself a little more to Selden's level. Maybe his calm was toning her done? It was more than possible.
"The point is, you can't go running in, determined for a bronze. You'd be setting yourself up for disappointment...and besides...it might be more fun to have a green." she laughed, but not quite as fully as she usually did. Kyllae knew that by pining for a brown, she was setting herself up for disappointment. There weren't a whole lot of female brownriders. And a green had less responsibility. She could go down to Southern all the time to visit! But...that didn't make her feel a whole lot better. Shards! Why was she taking advice so seriously; particularly her own?!? That wasn't like her at all. She sighed mentally.
Cihiru
At least someone thinks so. He's beginning to feel every bit the deadglow he's been accusing himself of being. As an individual who typically has ample confidence, he finds the experience less than pleasant. It's not really even tolerable. There is something to be said for it though; he's not likely to make the same mistake twice. Impulsiveness is no excuse.
"We need the past," he remarks, advising himself that's a good thing to remember right now. Mistakes are how people grow and learn. At least, he always thought so. Past experience forges the future, and out of all the things he's picked up from Harper Narilvan, Selden regards history among the most important. He can't even imagine living exclusively in 'now'. People aren't intuitive enough to make good use of it; not without their experience to guide them. Dragons though… He hadn't realized they have poor memories. It just never came up before now. They must be remarkable creatures, to be tied so rigidly to the present, and still be regarded so highly. Not that he'd know, mind; he's never really met one.
He has, however, heard Queens laying larger clutches more often herald a coming Pass. These days, there's a lot of dissent about that. He's been doing his best just to mind his own, but if the Harpers are to be believed ─ and he puts more faith in them than he does in most things ─ Thread is coming. That would surely turn Holds on their noses… But that's neither here nor there. Selden's getting lost in his thoughts again. She who invited herself is talking about Impression. "That's all it is." The chance to get lucky. If Candidacy and Impressing can really be called such.
"You're not telling me." His tone is offhanded. Disinterested, even. He seems more concerned with drawing up one knee and propping his elbow atop it. After all, he's already told her, flatly, he has no expectations except that he won't Impress. It may be pessimistic, even if it is his current preference, but it certainly isn't setting himself up for disappointment. The odds of it all suggest it's really rather probable, and therefor, realistic. He's not sure who she's harping to, but it certainly isn't him. Herself, maybe? Or maybe she's just going through motions. Who knows how many times she's shared the same speech.
Tyia47
"Pardon my generic blathering. I guess I'm a little worked up, really. I don't suppose you can tell I'm a little nervous about the hatching," she laughed. "Now, I'm going out a limb right now assuming that you're not the gossipy type to go out and spread my secrets," she waggled a finger, as if warning him of the consequences of spreading what she was saying. But he didn't exactly seem like the social type. Perhaps that was what was prompting her openness?
"You know, I loved being a Dolphineer," her voice was soft, her words careful, hardly bold as she had been minutes before. "I loved it so much. I loved all of my friends down in southern. I loved my craft, I loved Argentina. He was a Dolphin, you know," she informed. As if any human could possibly have the name Argentina. What kind of a word was that?
"But both of my sisters impressed dragons, and so did my cousin. I never thought I'd be searched, after all, I'd been looked over before. What could I possibly have done in those few years that made the second dragon choose me?" the last part was rhetorical, whimsical in tone. "It was really hard to leave my family. Really hard to leave Argentina. To Dolphins, thread is no danger. It drowns in the water and they eat it for a snack. How could he understand the concept of dragons, or why I would leave him..." she trailed off staring at the ground.
"I miss him, all the time. I spend every moment I can at the lake here, missing him. And thinking about what I've done. Do I belong here? Unlikely. There's no one anything like me. I often wonder if that dragon had made a mistake in taking me...if I made a mistake in leaving..." she scooped up dust in her hand and let it trickle back to the ground through half closed fingers.
"Why am I staying? Why will I stay when I fail to impress? I don't know. I really don't. Why should I have to try and prove myself by impressing a dragon? I don't. I don't need a dragon to be happy...yet I'm stuck here just the same," she sighed, shaking her head.
"I don't even know why I'm telling this to you. Maybe I've just been longing for a halfway decent conversation," she mused, before breaking out into laughter.
"Look at me, sitting her talking to a stranger about all my little girlish worries." she rolled her eyes and drummed her fingers together. "Don't worry, I think I'm just about done here. Maybe I found you just to say this? Maybe I would've told this to anybody. Maybe you were just stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time?" she shrugged and tapped her foot to a tune she played in her head. "Thank you for the company, even if it wasn't granted quite willingly," she teased mildly, back to her usual self. As if that little break in her wall hadn't happened at all. Who knew, maybe it was a ploy. Maybe it was a game. Kyllae always was full of surprises.
Cihiru
Ironic. Not five minutes ago she was proclaiming how sure she is there is a dragon for her, and now she's telling him she is anxious.
He's not surprised.
He is, however, surprised she forges on, breaking into something that sounds suspiciously like a sob story. Honestly, a sob story? Now? At him? Selden is fairly sure he doesn't exactly send 'sympathetic ear' signals. People usually seem to make a point of avoiding telling him things like this; he thinks they have an inherent understanding he doesn't care.
So what is it about this girl that makes her think she should keep rattling on? Because he's quiet and seems antisocial, really? Obviously, he doesn't care. His deepening frown says as much, even if he doesn't.
He can relate though. At least a little… Very little, judging by the way he continues scowling.
And then he stops waiting. She sounds mostly finished. "Look." There's no trace of sympathy in his tone. "If you don't know what you're doing here, and you don't want to be here, leave." It's not hard. He still intends to do the very same!
"I don't know either," Selden says, bluntly, sounding quite a lot like he wishes she hadn't. 'Wrong place at the wrong time' seems about right to him. Goodness knows she could have found a better, more willing confidant. But is that it? She certainly sounds as though she's leaving. "Yeah." An acknowledgment is all he offers; there is no 'thanks'. No 'happy to oblige'. He doesn't even bid a farewell, and looks as though he's slipped back into quiet contemplation already.
Tyia47
That was the point though, wasn't it? Kyllae didn't want sympathy. She didn't want concern. Pity would come with it, and Kyllae couldn't stand to be pitied. She didn't want people worrying about her. That was what made Selden so perfect. He didn't care, at all. He was apathetic towards her, and therefore the ideal audience. By expressing his lack of empathy, he was grounding her. Helping her grasp more that the world went on. Good. She felt better after this little bit.
Taking another swig of her drink, she smiled and rolled her eyes. Predictable. While boring, it made him useful. And he had been. She felt better. None of her momentary anxiety showed. She was smiling, silly, light, ready to laugh. As if it never happened. In a way, it hadn't. Selden didn't seem like the one to share that sort of thing with anyone. Ever. And that's what she was counting on. What would people do if they knew she was actually secretly reflective? Probably nothing...but it would destroy the reputation she'd built up so far! And that was important to her.
She stood up, brushing her clothes off and running a hand through her hair. "Ya know...sometimes I think none of us know what we're doing here...and that's what makes it fun," she sighed, looking out over the water. Life...was good.
Cihiru
Selden is clearly not the sort of individual to aspire to be 'exciting' or 'interesting'. He puts his weight in with more important qualities: being dependable, responsible, dedicated, and honest. And is he ever honest; he wears his disinterest as plainly as if he'd said it. Hers is not a face he cares to see again, starting now.
"I hope you're wrong." For the Weyr's sake. For Pern's sake. What a sad state it would be, if all the Hold grousing were true. If they were justified in their ungratefulness. Weyrs would never see the end of it, and then where would they be?
No, she must be wrong. Just because he's a deadglow, and just because she's an over-anxious wherry doesn't mean they all are. Somewhere, there must be some sense here. Some day, Pern will come to depend on it. He's sure of it.
He's also sure he's had quite enough of her presence; she's even less welcome now than she had been when she first made herself comfortable. The way he pointedly ignores her standing there, still unwilling to oblige the formality of a goodbye seems to say as much.
Tyia47
Oh man, was this guy drenched in a perpetual pity parade or what? Gloom and doom and frowns. How strange. He was probably her exact opposite in a lot of ways. He'd be interesting for sure. Even if he didn't think it. Kyllae liked to see different kinds of people. Life was boring if you only ever hung out with the same crowd.
She didn't respond, but she hoped he was right. And that she was wrong. There was something to say of being wrong. Being right all the time...where was the good in that? She wanted to learn, and she obviously couldn't if she was right all the time! She decided to take her leave now. The poor boy'd probably had enough of her. No, he'd clearly had enough. Hrm, she was alcohol. Some people couldn't take much before they were done. Maybe he was one of these people. Or, seeing how he seemed to dislike her the whole time, maybe he was like one of those strange people that didn't drink at all? She chuckled a little to herself. Wasn't she being strange now, thinking to herself and comparing her attentions to the effects of alcohol. She would investigate this idea further later.
Knowing he wouldn't like the gesture, but that it might be a little fun, she bent a little, giving his hair a quick ruffle, before dashing off, laughing, off to go bother T'ka and Haanyath. She felt better now. A lot better. She silently thanked Selden. He didn't need to know. He wouldn't care. And that was just fine. But this had proved a pleasant encounter for her. Even if that feeling wasn't mutual.
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Posted: Sat May 09, 2009 6:19 am
02.04 Value of a Smile: Gh'lan & Khunoth
Celeanor
The day was starting in a rather interesting way.
For starters, Khunoth had actually NOT gotten up at the crack of dawn and demanded something. The brown had, in fact, just taken himself outside the weyrling barracks and laid down in the morning sun. He wasn't asleep, but that much wasn't readily apparent unless you were either intensely familiar with his sleeping patterns... or his rider.
I smell fish.
We are next to the sea
I smell really stinky fish. And I am next to the sea, you are still inside. Come out here.
Well there went the morning without demanding.
Give me a moment to put a shirt on. The brownrider replied, carefully dislodging the sleeping form of Tada from his chest as he sat up. It never failed to amaze him how much the little green firelizard had relaxed as she matured, and he could only hope that a similar miracle would work itself on Khunoth. He knew that the three of them were due to have their own private weyr soon, or at least... a weyr that was meant for a full sized dragon but would house only two rather then the twenty or so the barracks housed. Idly, he wondered who his roommate would be and how his brown would deal with it. Thus far, he hadn't gotten into any serious squabbles with their barrack-mates, but he suspected that was mostly from their small size and the half-made promise of private quarters when they 'grew up.' Unlike the easily tractable dragons, Khunoth also suspected that they were being promised cloud pies rather then a real pie, since he wasn't silly enough to miss the obvious overcrowding of the whole weyr.
Nor the state of the other adult dragons, most of whom had roommates.
No sir, Khunoth as quite capable of putting two and two together, and as his rider, Gh'lan couldn't allow himself to be taken in by promises ether. But he DID keep his brown in order, as evidenced by this morning when the dragon took off on his own for the morning sun. Gh'lan had mentioned it the day before when Khunoth had woken him too early, so the brownrider was eternally grateful that he dragon had taken him up on his suggestion this morning. He'd come to realize that Khunoth required a certain amount of sunning time in order to keep his strength up throughout the day, and that tendency was only growing as he approached adulthood.
You think too much. Come on, and bring the little sister.
Cihiru
A soft thud wafts through the Weyrling barracks, summoned by the short drop of a trunk's lid. The young man responsible, done apparently with whatever it is he was doing ─ placing things inside it? ─ rises to his feet, glancing toward the individual to address him. Why now?
The response the inquiry receives is not a quizzical one. It's not really even questioning, despite the quite clear infliction of the mental tone.
No, it is a statement. Why not? The dragonet's expression is flawlessly deadpan.
Because we have new quarters, and I have things to move. It surprises him a little, actually, to be shuffled around so soon. Kanath, though growing rapidly, is still reasonably small; a fair distance off outgrowing the barrack couches. They pose him no discomfort. But the notification is what it is, still fresh and clear in his mind. When the powers that be tell him where he's to be moving and with whom, he figures, who is he to argue? It seems to him they've acquired new roommates.
After we finish, I will rest. Then you will have time for what you need to do before we must attend lessons. Any trace of doubt, any lack of assurance, is absent from Kanath's assessment. He is as certain that is what needs to be done as he's sure the sky is blue, and this too is just the way things are.
Wordless a moment, the dragonman regards his bondmate sternly. Kanath watches right back, with the ghost of a grin now, understanding that look to harbor more fondness than His typically dares let on. Even knowing the bronze doesn't yet itch, nor hunger, and he isn't in need of any immediate care, S'en has no real cause to deny his dragon. He will soon, and they both know problems tended now are issues they won't have to address later. Come on then, S'en relents, waving an arm after him as he moves to retrieve his pail of soapsand and other draconic hygiene necessities.
Softly warbling his contentment, which His takes to mean he is unusually satisfied, as he's not typically a vocal dragon, Kanath takes up pace at his rider's knee. They exchange glances ─ one of humored exasperation on S'en's part, and plain amusement on the bronze's part ─ then turn to make their way outside.
Celeanor
Yawning as he trudged through the halls of the Lower Caverns, Gh'lan looked about with mild interest once he made it to the kitchens. Khunoth could wait, he had decided not long after putting on the aforementioned shirt, until he'd gotten a small pack of food for himself and Tada. Bianne wasn't on shift this time of day, but the few other calls from some of the women he did know heartened his appetite. The ladies always knew how to take care of his grumbling belly!
You are silly.
Just practical Khunoth, if I went right to you I'd have had to come back soon to get some grub anyway.
They give you grubs? That is disgusting.
Chuckling, Gh'lan waved off the odd looks he got from some of his old friends. "Sorry sorry, Khunoth misunderstood something I said." He said by way of explanation. Since most of the women were quite used to dragonriders and their frequent laughing or talking to thin air, the pair of older women he was closest too just smiled at him and went back to their duties. "Ah, n'worry lad. Go you and speak to Seenani over there, she's got some packs already set up for lunches. Let her know you be taking one though!" The shorter one said, her back turned to him as she absently waved a gnarled finger in Seenani's general direction.
Bobbing his head in thanks, then abruptly remembering she couldn't see him, Gh'lan blurted out a quick 'thanks' and took off towards a far off table where another older woman was patiently packing and wrapping. Beside her were a few platters of foodstuffs, like meatrolls and sweetcakes, along with fresh cut tubers, which she was using to make the lunch packets. Predictably, she took one look at him and handed him two packs along with a long suffering sigh. Grinning, he again thanked her, and thanked the First Egg that the day time kitchen staff were used to hungry young weyrlings running on tight schedules!
Leaving the kitchens, however, became a bit more problematic as word apparently got out that somebody had started lunch preparations. After being nearly trampled to death, Gh'lan finally managed to win his freedom from the gathering crowd... only to run smack into an officious looking man with the shoulder knots of a Wingsecond. Wide-eyed, the young brownrider backed away and started to apologize but the senior rider just waved him off.
"At ease youngling, you are Gh'lan right? We were told by your Khunoth where to find you." The man started, no longer looking at him as he was now browsing through a thick sheaf of papers in his hands. Blinking, it took Gh'lan a moment to realize the 'we' meant the 'Second and his dragon.. followed swiftly by the fact that Khunoth hadn't mentioned someone was looking for him! "Uh, yes sir, I'm Gh'lan-"
"Good. This is for you. You're expected to vacate the barracks as soon as possible." The man cut him off, handing him one of the sheets and a curt pat on the shoulder. Blinking some more in amazed puzzlement, Gh'lan could only watch as the man strode away, obviously looking for someone else on his list.
"Well... I guess that is that...." Tada, who was on his shoulder, chirped helpfully in response, earning her a quick scratch and a sigh from her bonded.
Come on in Khunoth, we're moving today!
Cihiru
Their moving through the crowded Weyr halls, weaving through individuals just as busy and as set on their destination as they are is a largely silent venture. It often is, with S'en never really one to make offhanded remarks or idle conversation, and Kanath seldom feeling a need to intrude on their quiet.
This is not one of those times.
Not only does the young bronze seem rather set on doing exactly that, he also seems intent on insuring S'en does too. The young man knows what's coming the moment he catches his dragon's unusually focused interest.
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Posted: Sat May 09, 2009 6:30 am
02.05 The Right to Remain Silent: Nandeli
Cihiru
Most men on Pern have, at some point in their lives, dreamed of being a dragonman. For little boys, it's practically tradition. Especially if that fantasy is seizing the sky on bronze dragon wing, heroes against their ancient enemy.
Selden was never one of those boys; not even when he had been small and naive. For as long as he can remember, his dreams have always been a more mundane, more terrestrial fare. Someone wiser might call them ambitions. He hasn't bothered caring what they are, but he does know they're not flights of fancy. He never was taken with those.
Of course, that serves mostly to make it more ironic he is S'en now; an honorific to which he is slowly, but surely growing accustomed. More ironic yet is the reality he is Bronzerider S'en. That… Well, he's not so used to that, though the thought of it doesn't make him scoff like it might have a sevenday earlier. Those seven days though; those have brought on the most dramatic and rapid changes of his life. Not even leaving his quiet home to apprentice in Telgar can hold a candle to it. While S'en can sometimes be a creature resistant to change outside his own control ─ and make no mistake, the experience has been very much like a Southern sea storm swallowing him whole and spitting him back out again ─ it's so far been an enlightening, and at times, breathtaking ride.
Little Kanath, pacing quietly at his side as they move down a corridor, has proven far more pure and perfect than he had ever realized anything could be. He is… like they say, the half S'en never know he was missing. And looking back, with the young bronze beside him, he finds it's almost impossible to grasp his prior reservations. He remembers the sentiments well enough, but they don't fit any more, as if the recollections belong to someone else, and maybe he's just imagining them.
He is not, however, imagining the growing dragonet, who gives an involuntary yawn, and follows with a rather harmless glance at His. "I know," he tells Kanath, more patiently than he typically affords his own kind. The bronze is sleepy; he understands. They need only to make it back to their room first.
Hopefully the people no doubt between them and it have things to keep themselves busy.
Chibi Sheepcat
Nandeli was staking out the Weyrling Barracks, theoretically anyways. You had to be actually waiting for someone in particular to really be staking out a place, but she had always been the type to avoid making any concrete plans. It was very common for her to simply stand in a given area and wait for the people to come to her. Who didn't matter, since she could talk to anyone and nearly everyone had something interesting to say. The only problem with her little stake out was that so far nobody was coming. It was hard to interrogate new weyrlings when they weren't there.
Her luck took a turn for the better, however, when she heard the sound of approaching feet. Judging by the sheer weight of one, it sounded like one of the weyrlings was returning to their quarters. Excellent! Secretly she hoped it wasn't S'van. She'd interrogated that poor brownrider enough by this stage of the game. Perhaps it would be that new bronzerider. What was he name again? S'en? That sounded right. When the dragon and rider came into view, Nandeli waved merrily at them.
"It's S'en, right? S'en and bronze Kanath? I've been waiting for you, you know. You're really late." The Nose, however, was never early, nor was she late. She always arrived precisely when she meant to.
Cihiru
Who is that? Kanath asks, rousing himself from his tiredness long enough to lift his head and observe the stranger with some curiosity.
S'en doesn't know. In his time here, he's made very few acquaintances, and he's heard even less. For her, his ignorance is probably a boon, because if he had known this girl was 'The Nose', he would have made it a point not to afford her a second glance. He spares no fondness for those more concerned with the affairs of others than they are with their own, and he has better things to do than humor it.
She knows us. The dragonet lowers himself to his haunches, settling into comfort.
So it seems. "Yes," S'en answers. There's an edge to his voice, suggesting he's not really in the mood to entertain her, and he gives her what can probably be described as an incredulous stare. "Waiting? Why?" The first thing on his mind is that he's missed something. Overlooked some duty or obligation. But he's positive he hasn't. He couldn't have, and if he had, surely they would have sent someone other than this girl ─ is she a Candidate? ─ to retrieve him. She looks too chipper to be fetching him for some errand.
"Who are you?" 'And what do you want?' his tone seems to say, not sounding much like a pleasant introductory query.
You should be more polite, the bronze chides him, sleepily.
Chibi Sheepcat
“For you,” Nandeli replied instantly, quirking one eyebrow at him. That wasn’t entirely true, but it would suffice. He didn’t have to know that she was just waiting for someone to surprise her. Arms folded over her chest, she proceeded to quietly appraise the pair before her, starting first with the rider. “Hmmm… You know I thought you would be a little taller, you know? Not that not being tall is a bad thing, but it was just a thought, since you were from the Smithhall, right?” As usual, she didn’t give him any time to answer her questions, and continued on with barely a long enough pause to conclude the sentence. “Your hair is nice though… very pretty colour. Light eyes, nice nose, though you could do without that scowl. You’ll get wrinkles if you leave your face like that, and nobody likes a wrinkly bronzerider!” Giving him an affectionate pat on the shoulder she moved on to Kanath.
“Now you… you are very handsome. I’ve never seen a bronze quite this colour before. It suits you though.” Bronzes have never been her favourite, but this one is very pretty. He seems to be quite calm, though Nan has been around dragons long enough to know that a quiet outside doesn’t always indicate a quiet inside. For all she knows he could be chattering away to his rider. It’s not the first time she’s wanted to be privy to those ‘secret conversations’, however for the sake of the Weyr it’s probably better that she’s not. It’s bad enough that she knows more than she should about everyone’s personal life.
Returning to the rider, Nandeli pauses long enough to collect her thoughts and pushes bravely onward. “So, where are you from? You’re not a Weyrbat so I can’t say I know very much about you and your life, though you don’t really look like you’re a fisherman, so I’m going to guess you’re not from Ista. Am I right?” Her brain seemed to remind her at that moment that he had asked her a question, and she added, “It’s Nandeli.”
Cihiru
Now hold on a second. Just because she's waiting around ─ randomly, at that! ─ doesn't make him late. S'en doesn't know her, and it isn't as though this is some sort of appointment. He can't be late for something that doesn't exist; her deciding it does isn't exactly validating. It's probably obvious he's disgruntled. He doesn't bother covering it.
But 'disgruntled' doesn't last long. Typically easygoing S'en falls rather quickly to annoyance, and he doesn't put much effort into hiding that either. It would be more trouble than it's worth, with her appraising that way. He's rather positive he doesn't look like a runnerbeast, but shards if she isn't treating him like one. So what if he's more mundanely average than he is tall? He's been called worse, having grown up in Telgar, though it grates at him she knows that too.
He's more than ready to tell her to mind her own, but she presses on, and his objection dies on his tongue, leaving him with little choice but to swallow it. At least she's not berating the rest of him too… Save for 'that scowl,' anyway. He's not going to start smiling just because she thinks he ought. He does wish she wouldn't regard him so familiarly, though, even if he does tolerate her… affection with no protest greater than a persevering frown.
Kanath, however, is much more appreciative of the attention. He's not one to crave the limelight or anything, but who doesn't enjoy a compliment? Please tell her thank you, the dragonet tells His, sounding so polite and contended as he looks between them, S'en is torn between feeling revulsed and feeling amused.
The weyrling catches himself wanting to sigh at his building exasperation. "He says thank you." It's difficult to keep the reluctance from his otherwise chilly tone.
What bothers you? His is upset. The bronze knows that, but he can't tell why. She is being very nice. She even said kind things about them.
… "No place you'd recognize." His Hold is little bigger than a cothold; even if she does know all manner of other things, he's sure she doesn't know it. Not that it's any of her business, anyway, but he's in no humor to deal with the nagging he's sure would come if he doesn't answer. "Nandeli." That is a name he makes note to steer clear of. "Kanath is tired. Excuse us." This is not a request so much as it is a statement; he does intend to leave.
Chibi Sheepcat
Nandeli has always argued that persistence was her best quality. Other people had simply argued that she was completely oblivious to annoyed facial expressions, and therefore never stopped while she was ahead. It was really anyone’s guess which theory was right, but whatever the reason she didn’t seem at all fazed by S’en’s expression. He hasn’t told her to go away yet, which puts him slightly higher on her grumpy people scale than Bevan, though slightly lower than Marko since the Harper had been at least partially honest. Perhaps this bronzerider would surpass him, though she doubted it. That scowl was proof enough.
She beamed at Kanath’s thanks via S’en, dipping her head to the dragon. “You are very welcome! My foster mother always said that one should never hold back praise when it is due.” Nan didn’t bother to finish the sentence, which had been something about keeping your mouth shut when it was wise too. She clearly hadn’t paid attention to that bit. At S’en’s answer she tilted her head. “How will you know that if you don’t tell me? I could have relatives where you’re from for all you know.”
The mention of the tired dragon does catch her attention, and she beckons for them to follow. “That’s fine. We can go to your barrack and let him sleep while we talk. You won’t mind too much, will you Kanath?” S’en doesn’t get any say in the matter.
Cihiru
For Kanath, compliments are a rare treat. His is probably the most undemonstrative person in all of Ista Weyr, and he's doing good to receive affection in the form of subtle pats and gentle kindness. S'en doesn't afford others even that much. Will you try that?, the bronze asks, in more the tone of insistence than an actual question. He could certainly stand to! It might help them make friends.
S'en, accustomed already to his growing companion's 'You should─' rebukes, fixes the dragonet with a long-suffering stare, earning him an endearing look that quite clearly speaks 'what?' through its silence.
And then there's Nandeli. "Keogh Hold," he answers again, flatly. The odds of her knowing where that is, let alone actually 'having relatives there' are close to non-existent, but there she has it. He figures forwardness is the least painful of his options (he doesn't see what harm she can do with knowing where he's from), and sometimes the path of least resistance is also the best. Just not often.
Wait, what? She's inviting herself to his barrack? He understands people can sometimes be intrusively gregarious, but… No; S'en catches himself before he wonders too seriously if privacy means anything to her. It does not. That much was obvious even before now. Still. He sighs, exasperated anew.
Of course not, Kanath tells His, expecting him to relay.
Honestly… For the first time, S'en finds himself wishing dragons didn't have a natural aversion to speaking with others, and he would tell her himself. This really isn't the sort of message he'd like to pass along; it goes against his better judgment, and his sense of comfort. But, like his dragon would do almost anything for him, he would do almost anything for his dragon. "It's fine."
With a barely-audible sigh, S'en turns and resumes his course toward their barrack. Except, this time, he's hoping Gh'lan and Khunoth aren't there. That would go over about as well as first Fall, and at the moment, he's not in the mood to deal with a temperamental brown. Kanath must have picked up on his sudden discomfort; as he pushes himself to his feet and picks up alongside His, he assures him they are not there.
There's a pause. At least, as long as he thinks she'll allow him ─ which isn't long ─ and then he breaks the silence. "Why do you care?" He… isn't entirely sure he wants to know the answer to this, but it can't be worse than the truths his imagination has made up already. Besides, one question she has to answer is a moment she's not spending asking something of him.
Chibi Sheepcat
"Keogh Hold? Nice place?" Nandeli wouldn't admit that she didn't know where the Hold was, not after her earlier declaration. She would have to scour the maps and charts once she was through with this bronzerider to find out where he was from. Or she might just go as Elae. Elae was much more familiar with the various holds than she was. It wasn't Nan's fault that she didn't know, not really anyways. How as she supposed to pay attention to the Harper when her best friend was telling her all kinds of juicy gossip?
She was quite pleased when he did not refuse her presence in his barrack. For the grumpy type he was surprisingly mellow. Not that she was complaining really. He hadn't tried to use his height to his advantage and tower over her like Bevan had, nor did he try to blow her off more than once. So far this was looking good. Though she initially started off in the lead, she fell into step with S'en as he led the way. Seeing as she didn't know where he lived, it would be unwise to try and be in the front of the procession. Besides, she could keep an eye on him better this way.
Nan was quite pleased to find that the barrack is empty save for them, and leans casually against the nearest wall. She'd sit, but she's not sure she'd like the consequences of that. S'en could be the type to physically throw her out. At his question she blinks. "Why do I care? About what? About you? Or about him? Or about where you live? Or just in general?"
Cihiru
She doesn't have to say it; he knows. He's been away five turns now, but he remembers it well enough, and he's sure she'd have a reasonably good idea what it's like if she did know its location. "Cold," he says, simply. Mind, it's not so cold to him ─ Fardles, Ista is hot! ─ but in comparison to the tropical heat, it's difficult to consider it anything but. It's a nice place though; not at all like Telgar, where he'd been so set on returning. He liked it, and S'en supposes there are times he misses it. He'll have to go back some day, when Kanath is big enough to make the trip. Won't his parents be surprised? He really should have told them…
But, there's no undoing it now. He has no lizard to utilize, and he's not going to call on a stranger for a favor. Their knowing what he's been up to can wait a little longer. A couple turns more shouldn't hurt; they aren't yet that old.
"In general." If he had meant something else, he would have said so.
He doesn't seem overly concerned with playing host to Nandeli though. S'en follows the bronze in, who ambles over to his couch, much too large for him currently, and makes quite a deliberate effort of settling and getting comfortable. His fatigue is so great, it makes even S'en feel a little drowsy, but the rider knows better than to assume he will sleep. More likely, he will lay, rest, and listen, until he can no longer keep himself from drifting off. Sleep. I will tell you later, S'en assures him, rubbing one eyeridge, briefly, before seating himself on the stone couch's edge.
Which leaves him, again, to Nandeli, who he realizes now hasn't ventured to make herself at home. S'en does absolutely nothing to discourage the notion she's not exactly welcome, and does not invite her to do otherwise. As far as he can tell, there's very little to him worth caring about, and the sooner she leaves them be, the better.
Chibi Sheepcat
Cold? That's it? Jeesh. Chock another rider up for the "no imagination whatsoever" category. At least La wouldn't get lonely. Nandeli was seriously beginning to wonder if the riders were looking for Candidates who would be grumpy and mind their own business. Perhaps that was their way of solving the over crowding. If the grumps didn't Impress they would probably go back home to avoid all the people. But it definitely backfired when unimaginative grumps Impressed. Clearly the dragonriders should have given more thought to their plan.
Making a face, she gave the room a quick overview before deciding to park herself down lightly on her trunk. She knew she's not heavy enough to break it – not unless other people have been doing things on here, however she doubts it – and she figures the trunk is a safer seat than his bed. Though completely without most social bars, she doesn't usually go sitting on other people's beds unless she knows them well. And she most certainly doesn't sit on their beds when she's alone with them. There are some lines that cannot be crossed even by Nandeli.
The short answers don't surprise her, and so she doesn't seem bothered by them. Instead she wiggles her toes in her sandals as she considers his response. "Why do I care, general question… That's very vague, you know. If you're asking why I'm interested in you it's just because I am. I'm interested in everybody. I'll bet you won't find anyone else in the whole Weyr who cares about what people have to say more than I do. How come you don't like talking? Most boys would be flattered that a girl is taking interest in them, you know. Unless you have a girlfriend already? Is it anyone I know?"
Cihiru
And then she goes and makes herself comfortable anyway. Shells, why do they always do that? He knows it's not that his dagger glare needs practice.
S'en fixes her with a skeptical stare, unwilling to accept her 'genuine interest' at face value. Sure, he understands a girl having an interest in dragons. In her Craft. Even in runners is understandable. But in people?… One doesn't just take an interest in others for no reason. He's leery of her other motivations, which lead him to believe his earlier suspicions correct. She is a gossip. That's bothersome.
It isn't that S'en doesn't like talking though. Just… "I don't have much to say." And when he does, that something can usually be expressed in a sentence or two. Sometimes less. No one can accuse him of indirectness.
Wait… "What? No." The expression, vaguely soft thanks to Kanath, drains away from the young man's face, leaving him once again with a rather stony frown.
Of course, Nandeli probably isn't the sort of person to care he's not really one for friends right now, and he doubts she'd care he has yet to even desire courting a girl. He has no time for such frivolities (clearly, his parents never impressed on him the importance of an heir). At this point in his life, S'en is genuinely a solitary creature ─ excluding Kanath, and if it's left to the dragonet, it won't last ─ but why would something like that matter to a person like her?
Him, flattered? "No reason to be. I'm not looking for attention." And is that ever putting it lightly.
Chibi Sheepcat
There was something about the look he gave her that reminded her very much of the grumpy Harper Marko. He had asked her a similar question, now that she thought about it, about why she was so interested in people. Marko hadn't believed her intentions and nether did S'en, if his sceptical look was anything to go by. It was a source of continual irritation for the Nose. She really was interested in people and their lives. She just was more interested in their relationships. Was that such a bad thing?
"Well, if you're not saying much then you're doing a lot of thinking, which isn't always a good thing you know. I know!" She looked as though she'd been struck by a great epiphany, and without further ado she pointed her finger at him for added dramatics. "You're one of those brooding bronze types! I've seen it before, yes, a couple of times in the past. You'll spend so much time holed up in here while your dragon kindly persuades you to go and meet people, moping. And then one day, when you finally get out to go to a Gather or something you'll find the perfect girl for you!" Shards she was good at this game. Sometimes she even impressed herself.
"And you say you're not looking for attention, but I bet your dragon likes to talk to people. How much could it hurt to indulge in some friendly conversation now and then?"
Cihiru
Fine. Grudgingly, he admits to himself he does tend to think a lot. Not by choice, though. It's not his fault his mind wanders when he has no task to keep it tethered, and he can't help that labor here is often less demanding than he had grown used to at the Hall. He liked that part of being a Smith; it required concentration, and he almost never had opportunity to just think. While Kanath has done some to help ease that particular ail, S'en supposes some things never really change. Not that being thoughtful is a bad thing, anyway. Adenar always did say he needed to use his head more and his temper less. He'll probably be glad to hear his son has grown out of that. Some…
The Weyrling looks flatly on her accusing point, clearly unimpressed by the 'revelation'. "No." There is a finality in his tone, making that single word sound every bit the encompassing response he meant it to be.
He broods. A little. S'en will grant her that much. He does not, however, mope, and his distaste for the word may be apparent. Moping is something people do when they lack the courage to take action and solve. Dragonman or not, he is still a Smith, and is inherently a doer. He doesn't gape at problems and bemoan them; he puzzles out what he can do to fix them, and then he does it. He always has, and hopes he always will. S'en would never forgive himself if, some day, he turned into a hopeless, helpless wherry. He is a lot of things ─ antisocial included ─ but he is not useless, and those sorts are almost always good-for-nothings.
Shards. Perfect girl. He doesn't even want a girl; is that so difficult to realize? "People can be happy on their own." Okay, happy may be a bit of a stretch for him. Content. Maybe content would be better.
You have me, Kanath interjects, sleepily, and somehow still sounding quite self-assured.
But maybe not. In the face of something so magnificent, it's difficult to be anything but happy, even if he shows it to no one else. I know, S'en answers, the ghost of a smile in his thoughts. Sleep.
How much could it hurt? "Quite a lot, depending." Still he wears that impassive expression, well aware this Nandeli is quite likely an individual to put truth in his remark. It's a bit late to go backing out now; he figures he may as well roll with it. To a point, anyway. He still has no intention of humoring her outlandish fantasies.
Chibi Sheepcat
No? No? That's all he can say to that? Pshaw. S'en clearly didn't know that Nan knew everything about everyone, often times even before they knew it about themselves. That was just how good she was at judging a person. So, if she said he was a brooding bronze then that's what he was. He could deny it all he wanted, but in a day or two he would find that the label had permanently affixed itself to the end of his name, courtesy of yours truly. Still, S'en shouldn't complain. At least he wasn't the Gay Harper Extraordinare.
Nandeli responded to his denial by rolling her eyes. "You can say no all you want, but you can't deny the truth. One day I'll look you right in the face and you'll be like 'gee, that Nan girl was right! I shouldn't have had such a pole up my behind!' And then we can celebrate your finding of your true self and happiness." She flashed him one of her best megawatt smiles. It appeared that the tiny remains of her tact had decided to take a vacation today along with her manners.
"And I suppose regular people can be happy on their own. But you're not a regular person. You're a dragonman now. You're never alone, so you cannot be content with solitude anymore. You have to look beyond that! Take a crowbar to your mind and embrace the possibilities! You can't tell me you haven't even looked at anybody else in the Weyr since you've been here, or even back home in your little Hold." Straight boys were always looking at girls. Nobody needed Nan to tell them that.
Cihiru
Nandeli's flagrant disregard for reason earns from him a very stolid frown. Truth nothing. Being introspective has gained him a solid understanding of himself, and if anything is true, it's that S'en knows himself far better than this practical stranger does. It frustrates him she has the gall to claim otherwise. He lets her say her piece though, sighing once to keep himself from speaking without thinking.
"…" Which leads to a moment of him saying nothing at all, just fixing her with an icy stare that edges nearer on being a glare with every passing instant.
It's none of her business what he has, or hasn't been doing since he came to the Weyr, let alone what he was on about before that. It's his life, shardit, and so far as he's concerned, Nandeli can keep her nose, and her opinions, out of it.
His rising irritation rouses Kanath, who has yet to heed his bonded's insistence, and parts two sets of eyelids to peer at the girl across the way. The bronze, too young to fully grasp Nandeli's implications, informs His he is a fine companion, and goes on to tell him he does not understand why she is so adamant His must have a girl to be happy.
S'en doesn't understand either, but blames that largely on her being unreasonable. "Kanath says you aren't making sense," he starts, folding his arms over his chest and putting an honest effort toward quelling his obstinacy. No good will come from letting his defiant pride take hold. "You said yourself I'm never alone. Don't need a girl to appreciate it."
And actually, "I can." Partially because he hasn't had time, partially because his thoughts have been lost in other things, and partially because he sincerely hasn't wanted to. Or maybe he hasn't allowed himself. Any more, it's hard to tell which. If Nandeli knew just how deeply immersed in his Craft he had been before coming here, it wouldn't be all that difficult to believe. He expects her to take it about as well as he had her declaration, though.
Granted, it hasn't always been true. There may have been a time, he admits privately, where he had come to enjoy the company of others. He may have even learned to appreciate the aesthetics of the female figure, and might have discovered what it felt like to harbor some curiosity toward feminine affection. But that was then, and this is now. Those days are long behind him, squelched beneath sheer force of will and relentlessly determined self-control. Not that a girl like Nandeli has any idea why one might strive for something like 'self-control', he realizes trailingly.
'Lighten up,' people always tell him. 'You're too hidebound.' Already Kanath has taken on some of that tone. He rears it now and then. S'en supposes this is just more of the same; nothing he hasn't heard before.
Chibi Sheepcat
S'en has made the same crucial mistake that every candidate, rider or anyone really that came to the Weyr had their own business. Everything was Nandeli's business, and the sooner that the bronzerider comes to understand this key point the better. Besides, if he was really that secretive he shouldn't have Impressed a bronze. Not that that was his choice, mind you, but there you have it.
"Well of course Kanath doesn't understand," Nandeli replies as though it's The Most Obvious Thing Ever. "He's just a baby. He doesn't need to understand girls yet. There's lots of other things he has to get used to before he can get used to girls. Don't worry, the Weyrlingmaster will teach you everything." She waved her hand dismissively. Word on the wing was that they were getting a new Candidatemaster too. Nan made a mental note to go follow that rumour whenever she had a free moment.
"And I didn't say anything about needing a girl, but having a girl adds a totally different dimension to things. You were saying that you love being alone, but since you're never alone then your argument is pretty invalid. And you can say that you've never even looked at a girl, but I don't believe you. You're a male, for one, a bronzerider for two and more than ten Turns old for three." She held up three fingers to emphasize her point. "But I suppose you're going to have to go through some denial before the truth comes out. Don't worry though! If you ever need any guidance you can always come to me."
Nandeli flashed S'en one of her trademark mega-watt grins and hopped off the trunk. "Well it was nice talking to you! Enjoy your weyrling lessons and take good care of each other!" She wiggled her fingers in a wave before practically bouncing out the way she had come. S'en had done well for his first encounter with the Nose. Hopefully he would be better prepared for more.
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Posted: Thu May 21, 2009 12:23 pm
02.06 Weyrling Lesson v.1 [Tropical Fish]: Jr. Weyrlings
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Posted: Mon Jun 22, 2009 1:24 pm
02.07 I Can Has PlyTime?: T'loa & Niyath
Uta
It was a rest day for the bronze rider, though such a term was subjective in nature. Though there were no drills scheduled with his new wing, that didn't mean there was much time for rest or relaxation. Pity too, considering how much the tall rider enjoyed his naps and sleep. No no, rest days merely meant there was time to devote to other aspects of dragon riding - like working on a new set of riding straps to replace the current set, oiling Niyath, bathing Niyath, feeding Niyath, occasionally performing sweeps or picking up various folks around Ista for some reason or another, cleaning ones weyr (especially with four mates!) etc. etc. Ah, yes, just because there were no drills to perform didn't mean there would be much resting in any sense of the word!
Currently, the bronze rider had every intention of taking Niyath out to hunt wild game, but to no avail. The dragon had insisted upon feeding at the Weyr, after making such claims that he was much too famished to actually hunt far for his prey. T'loa, of course, knew it was nothing but a ploy to stick closer to Ista. . . . but with the weather being as hot as it was, the rider didn't object too strongly.
Three herdbeasts and a wherry later, the blood stained dragon was in need of a bath. And while T'loa would have preferred a flight to the beach, there was something he had over looked; most of the weyrlings had been released from their afternoon lessons to perform various assigned tasks, chores and some down time with their dragons. There were quite a few enjoying themselves near the Weyr lake, each splashing, playing and generally having a good time.
I will wash with the small ones! They look as if they're enjoying themselves and I wish to play. Niyath rumbled, confident his rider (once again) wouldn't object.
And how could the man? The wistfulness he felt from Niyath, the curiosity and over all joy was too much. There would be no harm for the bronze to meet some of the junior and senior weyrling's present.
"All right, all right~!" T'loa chuckled, an affectionate smile crossing his typical lethargic features. "Go on then, but do watch your step, you big oaf. Some of them are awfully small. . ."
Niyath gave a snort, butting his head against his rider in response. As if I would be so careless. And without another word, but a welcoming bugle to the little dragonets already within the water, the long-necked dragon glided happily over to the waters edge.
It didn't take long for the brute to swiftly start up a game of splashing, while T'loa ever so casually loped after. Glancing around at the various riders and weyrlings present, he was amazed at all the faces he didn't recognize. Most of them were future peers he'd fly with, the ones he'd face the first threadfall with. . . .
Grim as the thought was, he couldn't help but wonder just how quickly the sheer number of dragons and riders would be cut come the aftermath of frequent threadfall.
Cihiru
Several months, and many hard-learned habits after Kanath first found His, the bronze and his rider have (what feels like 'finally') begun to settle in some semblance of routine. While there's not a whole lot to be said for the process of getting up, doing chores, taking lessons, doing more chores, then getting some sleep, there is something to be said for having a dragon to share them with.
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Posted: Mon Jun 22, 2009 8:08 pm
02.08 Curiosity: Berjint
Talencia
For some time Berjint had been ogling the dragons from a distance. it wasn't that he was afraid of them, nor was he afraid of the Riders. If anything, it was just the opposite. He tended to hold the full grown dragons and their Riders in the highest of respect. He was in awe of them, but this meant he generally avoided too much socializing with them, as he tended to end up tongue-tied.
he had been reflecting recently, however, about how he really should know more about being a Rider than what was taught to them in their Candidate classes. He had a thirst for knowing more, but didn't want to trouble the experienced Riders with his questions.
The perfect opportunity, however, presented itself that day in the form of a boy not much older than he, and a bronze baby. Oh, he wasn't so much a baby anymore. He was half grown, getting to a size to be reckoned with. The were near the lake's edge, with the boy feeding the dragonet hefty chunks of meat. For a time, Berjint watched with fascination, his eyes following the dragon's movements as he snapped up and gulped the food. He finally gave himself a shake and strolled closer, clearly drawn by his curiosity.
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Posted: Sun Jun 28, 2009 4:07 am
02.09 Bright Ideas: Nandeli & Reneneth
Cihiru
For S'en and Kanath, the past sevenday or so has been particularly miserable. Though Ista's plague had almost left the young man with hope he would escape unscathed, and he fell ill later than most, all that matters is he did eventually. He and Kanath being but two among the many affected made it no less pleasant for the both of them.
The bronze is a rather large boy these days, growing into adulthood and a certain independence, but He's not so old he feels completely comfortable without His for extended periods. His lifemate's being stuck in the infirmary served mostly to make Kanath very aware how truly dependent he is on his presence. It takes quite a lot to down his rider, and even more to keep him there; knowing just how much S'en was ailing made an uncomfortable situation even worse. The typically relaxed, easygoing dragon had been feeling uneasy and restless, unable to find comfort in His, and even less able to provide it, so far as he could tell.
He's glad it's over, and he's glad to be feeling like himself again, content and at peace with the world. To make matters better yet, S'en is not only on the mend, but is done with it, and has agreed to make up for his absence by spending this brief respite on an activity of his bronze's choosing. This is something of a rarity, and Kanath knows an opportunity when he sees one. A chance to do whatever he sees fit, without objection? He'll take it, gladly!
We should visit her, the bronze starts, accompanying the rather vague use of 'her' with a more specific, and indefinitely less welcome mental image. It has been a long time.
Not so long you don't remember her, S'en replies, thinking to himself all the time in the world may not be long enough.
He's had some help remembering, but needs not tell him that. The Queen chose her, you know. Kanath's says instead, his tone insisting of course His knew. It is, after all, a rather important matter.
S'en knew; he's just trying to forget. The idea of Nandeli, a goldrider, remains an objectionable thought to his mind, and the less he has to confront it, the better. He's relatively certain if Kanath remembers her, he also has at least some inkling of his aversion to her too, but he reinforces it through their bond just in case.
It is the polite thing to do, the bronze replies, shrugging off his rider's obstinacy with practiced ease. We never even told them congratulations.
The young man knows that too. He also knows Kanath has no intention of backing down, despite the truth he could just as easily pass along the sentiments without budging a talon. He could have done so long before now; S'en wouldn't even be surprised if has independently, and either doesn't remember, or is actually stating it somehow isn't as proper as saying so in person.
Whatever the case, he knows better than to argue with his dragon over something trivial ─ and despite how much as his gut resents it, this is trivial. He sighs, a sign Kanath knows means he has won, and true to his word, moves to follow the bronze.
Chibi Sheepcat
Despite the fact that the last trip to the beach had taken them ages to get down there and back, Reneneth seemed to haven taken a liking for the place. The water was warm and so was the sand, and she got to swim as long as she wanted to without worrying about hogging a spot in the water. Though Nandeli had told her time and time again that a queen deserved to spend as long as she wanted in the water no matter who was waiting. No dragon would ever tell a gold to get out of the water so they could bathe. That would be horribly impolite. Reneneth, however, was insistent on the fact that she should not stop other dragons from bathing, no matter what colour she was. Thus, there they were, making their way across the final stretch to the slow that lead down to the beach.
I wonder if that nice boy from last time will be there. You liked talking to him. Reneneth tipped her head as she conveyed the image of Selachii, the former apprentice Weaver they had met not too long ago. The boy had even been nice enough to help with her bath. She remembered boys like that.
"I dunno. Probably not. They don't give Candidates that much of a break. We don't even get that much of a break." She grinned down at the gold, folding her hands behind her head as they walked. "He was a nice boy though. I hope he does Impress. Would be a shame if he had to go back to weaving." Selachii hadn't seemed to like that craft much, though he wasn't too old to switch. Perhaps he would take up mining.
The gold rumbled softly. I would not mind doing small human things like weaving. It certainly produces some very pretty clothing. You do not do any weaving?
Nandeli shook her head, grinning. "Not any good weaving. You'd probably be better at it than me, if you could do it. Better eye for colours and nice patterns. We should try and teach you sometime," she teased. "But we better hurry. Sun's getting hot on my back!"
Cihiru
So, S'en doesn't much fit the description of 'nice boy,' and he certainly isn't the 'nice boy from last time.' Kanath would insist he is nevertheless quite capable company, if only he would set his heart to it, and some day, the dragon will figure out how to make him. He's working on it, one small step at a time; this is one of those occasions.
Reneneth is in the bowl, the bronze informs His, utilizing that draconic 'spatial intuition' S'en still finds a little unsettling every time he actually thinks about its existence.
He tries to remember just how long it's been since the last Hatching, then concludes it was recent enough, in all likelihood, Nandeli is with her dragon.
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