Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Seems to..." Kazvar huffed slightly, folding his arms and looking awkward as the Wher shamelessly enjoyed the attention, tilting his head for a better angle at head scratching.
"...I think you've a better chance at impressing than you give yourself credit for." He noted, which was, he figured, a better alternative to discussing his own opinions. Zeren was a gentler minded soul than he was, tending injured flits and petting watchwhers.

"Part of that Bias could well be that Wher's can, and will, kill a man." Kazvar offered up, an crisp little matter of fact. "Dragons can't. Wher's can."

Wher's in fact did. You had to respect a Wher, you couldn't sit back and comfortably note that it was not only unwilling but unable to purposefully harm you. Combine that with something that could go between, and was at the shoulder around the size of an runner... well. He could understand their reluctance.

"You've eaten?" He asked, "had enough Klah?"

"It doesn't make it no threat at all, it makes it a threat you're better prepared to deal with." Kazvar corrected, which earned a satisfied, even pleased rumble from Kazvask, who stood and stretched, pleased to emphasize this idea by flexing the powerful muscles under his dark blue hide. "If you're ready then, we'll patrol."

"At the least, someone -else- can bond with it." Kazvar noted, though there was a faint hint of amusement in his voice, imagining the boy hopelessly orbited by flits.

Having one seemed like a handful enough, he couldn't imagine having more than two, though there were rumors of some people who were, frankly, insane enough to load themselves down with the creatures. That, in his mind, was just a desperate plea for attention, though it would probably be all the wrong kind as the nightmare little creatures got into anything and everything.

Kazvar's step faltered slightly, which had nothing to do with the darkness, and he felt an itch of familiar discomfort trickle down his spine at the thought of the hot sands, the towering dragons.

Kazvask meant he was safe from Stand impression... or that was the situation as he understood it, but he was still faintly uncomfortable at the idea. Some dragons, were, albeit extremely extremely rarely, were just... 'chatty'. And he could sort of picture an ugly event of the queen becoming upset at the smell of Kazvask on his skin.

It would really be damned inconvenient all around.


"...I could...manage that." He answered, though he hadn't the slightest idea why on Pern he was agreeing to the whole thing, as Kazvask made a sound of hunger and amusement and loped off ahead after something in the dark. "I'll try anyway. I'll still need to make sure Kasvask gets out for night watch."

"It's the safety of the Weyr, the watchwher's need to be let out." Kazvar shrugged, slowing down slowly to a stop to wait for the Weyr to return. No sense plowing forward in the dark until Kazvask was done with what he'd loped off after. Given the watch-wher's reaction, he assumed it was something more to the line of tunnel snakes or something similar, not a full grown Feline. Otherwise the wher would have been unlikely to leave the two of them exposed. "Hold up until he returns." He pointed out, straining his own ears for any sounds in the dark. Somewhere he could hear the dark blue wher snarling, and something else, but Kazvask wasn't making it easy to identify what he was fighting, which suggested that it didn't have much fight left.

"I'm no good luck charm..." He warned, unsure exactly of the boys motivation of wanting him there. It was even less likely he'd be able to protect him from a rogue hatchling, which would probably do most of it's damage before anyone could clear the stands, which was really a healer's job anyway.

Kazvar frowned again slightly at this information. It seemed... cold... if not entirely inaccurate, to suggest that the boy might not impress. Even with the almost overflowing clutches that Trine and Malvren had been gifted with, there were almost inevitably far more candidates than there were eggs.

"...I chose to look into Wherhandling instead of trying to impress." He admitted. "Even those born at the Weyr's aren't always a good choice for candidacy."

And he suspected the dragons themselves had, at least on some level, known of his recalcitrance, even if no riders had yet seemed to pick up on it.

"Yes. You could train to be a Wherhandler." He offered. "Bonding Wher's is not like bonding dragons, you don't age out."

You could, however -die-, but if Zeren hadn't figured that out, he'd learn it in the lessons. "Chances are slim, true, but there's still a chance. You were searched, that means you have the potential, and you have a few years before you age out." he pointed out. "It'll give you more time to study the Wher's themselves as well."

He didn't know what solace to give over parents too pessimistic to watch their boys chance at impression, he'd grown up large in part in the creche, the relationships there were different.