Welcome to Gaia! ::

(Note: as Ollin is posing as a man, I feel it would be best for my RP mates if I refer to her as "him" unless such a situation arrives that either her cover is blown, or she has a "girly" moment. Also, I swear not all my posts will be as long a a short novel D: )


Ollin stood agape at the Scribemaster. The aging master had a sly little grin on his face, perfectly anticipating this kind of reaction from Ollin when he got to tell the news of the new Journeyman's first assignment.

"Ar-are are you sure?" Ollin stammered. "Ista Weyr, Ista Wyer, the Ista Weyr?!" Ollin felt giddy, light-headed, sick, and anxious all at once. The butterflies in his stomach were enough to make him regret having that second helping porridge for breakfast (but the cook insisted, always trying to bulk up that scrawny little Ollin, and you don't cross a lady with a ladle in her hand). Ollin paced back and forth as he tried to put his thoughts together as coherently as possible, which at the moment was a loose jumble of mumbling, half-formed sentences, and a constantly changing facial expression.

To the onlooker, which in this case was the Scribemaster, it was quite an amusing ordeal, which is why he had insisted he be the one to break the news to his former-apprentice. He couldn't help a few chuckles escaping, which only caused Ollin more duress. "This isn't a laughing matter..." Ollin faced his old teacher with a look akin to a kicked puppy, "This is HUGE! A Weyr is huge! There'll be all those charts of accounts, daily inventory, activity logs..." Ollin continued on a long ramble of any and all tasks there might be for a scribe to handle at a place as populated as a Weyr.

As much enjoyment as Ollin's fretting was to watch, the Scribemaster decided he had to put his former pupil at ease. "Ollin!" He said in a very commanding tone. It was enough to snap Ollin out of the rut he was digging himself into. "Come here," he ordered. As if under a spell, Ollin did as he asked and stood in front of the Scribemaster. He stood up from his chair, towering over the short Scribe, and placed a hand on Ollin's shoulder. "You'll do fine," he said with a voice full of calm, gentleness, care, and all seriousness. It was enough to make Ollin hold back a tear from escaping his eye. "I wouldn't have recommended to the other Masters for you to walk the tables unless I thought you were ready." He moved his hand to pat Ollin's mess of hair.

All of a sudden, Ollin lurched forward, and grasped the Scribemaster in a tight hug, filled with years of respect, and now the notion that they would be separated for a very long time. The Scribemaster, even in his old age, was more of a father to Ollin than his real father ever was. Even though he was strict, had a temper, and never took less than anyone's best, Ollin came to love him very much. The Scibemaster gasped a bit at the strength of the hug, but after the momentary surprise, he rested his hands on Ollin's back, returning the gesture. "May you work hard, live well, and your journey be safe. And may this old man live long enough to see your future accomplishments."

The only words Ollin could muster were a very quiet, "Thank you..." The depth of that thank you reached the Scribemaster's heart, and he clutched Ollin's back a little tighter.

---

All the rest of the day was spent packing. Even though Ista Weyr would have all the materials he required, he still couldn't help but bring some of his own writing instruments. He made sure his dress was packed safely away, along with the other clothes his brother...er, sister, had made for him over the years. Ollin said goodbye to all the friend's he'd made at Harper Hall, and received quite a few backslaps and arm punches he was sure would bruise later, but it was a small price to pay to have a good reminder of the friends he was leaving behind. Through it all, Ollin couldn't help but smile. One of Ollin's taller friends had actually grasped him in a headlock and ruffled up Ollin's hair, all the while with a forlorn look on his face, exclaiming, "Now that Shorty's leaving, who in the world will we have to look down upon and make fun of?", with Ollin struggling to be released. It was all in good fun, and even Ollin knew he would miss little squabbles like this at the Weyr.

Suddenly, a great brown dragon appeared from between above gaggle of friends. Ollin had seen dragon's before, they were constantly coming to and from the Harperhall, Healerhall, and Fort Hold, but this was the first time one was coming for him. The sheer size of it upon landing left Ollin's mouth agape, along with the other boys'. A voice came from above as the dragon lowered it's neck to the ground, "Yo!" The rider gave the group a little mini salute with two fingers before dismounting his dragon.

He looked over the boys, as he was taller than all of them, sizing them up and asked, "All right, so which one of you fellas is our new Scribe?" Without words, the boys all pointed in front of the rider. He looked down a bit and finally saw the small Scribe. The rider was a bit surprised, he thought the scribe would look a bit...older, and this boy still looked like he hadn't fully matured, what with his baby face and all. He could probably pass for a girl with a little make-up and a dress even, the thought of which brought a grin of amusement to the rider's face. "Well, then, Journeyman Scribe," he looked Ollin in the face, "shall we go?" The rider had a broad, welcoming smile that even caused Ollin to smile a bit.

As if a realization suddenly hit him, Ollin's jolted a bit, now aware this was a dragon rider standing in front of him. Still holding his gear, Ollin quickly bowed his respects. "I-I'm Ollin. I've just become a journeyman, but I promise to help Ista Weyr as best I can!"

The Dragon rider paused for a moment, stupefied by the sudden (and somewhat cute) formalities, then he broke into a hearty laugh. Even the great brown dragon mimicked its rider...though most would have said it's deep-throated chortling was more scary than funny. "I'm L'rir," he introduced himself. "Toreth and I will see you safely to the Weyr, where I'm sure you'll do a fine job." The rider winked at the young boy. This heartened Ollin a bit as he took L'rir's hand to board the dragon.

---

Toreth dropped slowly down into the Bowl, passengers in tow, one looking significantly more pale than when the flight had started. After landing, L'rir carefully helped Ollin to the ground. Ollin's legs were shaking pretty badly, and looked like it'd be a few minutes before the color in his face returned. "Sorry about that...I didn't know you were afraid of heights or flying..." He was truly apologetic, but he silently chuckled to himself remembering Ollin screaming on the take off. He wanted to comment to Ollin that he 'screamed like a girl', but he felt bad enough for the poor airsick thing to leave him alone.

"....I...didn't know either....it's not like I make a habit of flying everywhere..." Ollin replied sarcastically, his voice particularly low pitched after having run it ragged with screaming. He was just thankful he was back on solid ground. "I think...I'll take a ship next time..." he stated somewhat uneasily, his stomach churning at the thought of getting on dragon back again.

"Well, as much as I'd love to stick around and show you the place, I'm afraid I have more work to do and will have to leave you to your own devices," L'rir was saying while unloading Ollin's small luggage.

It took a moment for what the dragon rider said to make sense in Ollin's head. "Huh? Wait, what?!" By the time Ollin turned back around, dragon and rider were already preparing to take off. "I don't even know where to go!" He yelled after the irresponsible lout.

"Best way to get to know the place is to wander around and see what's where. You can tell me all about it later when we meet again!" The brown rider laughed as his dragon took off into the air, which made Ollin's stomach lurch a little from the memory.

But I need to see the Weyr's Masterscribe immediately upon arriving, you sharding, no good, lousy, stupid... Ollin didn't even have the strength left to continue that train of thought, thoroughly worn out just by the short trip here. Not having really looked from the air, Ollin now looked around at the large bowl of Ista Weyr. It was truly a beautiful and breath-taking sight, not even a genius-crafted tapestry would be able to do it justice. The caldera spiked high, with half falling away towards the sea, pock-marked with holes of living quarters and hallways. Somehow, seeing the Weyr made the young Scribe's new assignment all too real. "Ah, Sharddit!" Ollin exclaimed. Instead of daydreaming and fancying the place, he should be looking for the other Weyr Scribes. He could come back and take in the scenery another day. Right now, he had to find someone who was hopefully more help than the dragon rider who'd dropped him off, and pray they could take him to the Weyr's archives.

Venting silently to himself, his ears picked up the sound of a voice singing. He shoved it to the side, used to the apprentices at the Hall often times practicing even away from lessons. In the moment it donned on him he wasn't at Harper Hall anymore, therefore randomly breaking in to song was not a common occurrence, Ollin's back immediately straightened in belated surprise. He turned to face the singer, who had quite a lovely voice (of course, compared to Ollin, most people had lovely singing voices).

He was a bit bewildered to find the face familiar...though he couldn't place a name with it. At the sudden question, Ollin timidly replied, "Ah, yes actually...though right now I'm finding myself in a bit of a bind..." for two reasons, he silently added, one for the boy's name, the other for locating the Weyr's Archives. "I don't suppose you would happen to know where the Archive's are?" The boy was obviously a Harper at the Weyr, though how long he'd been there, Ollin couldn't be sure. It couldn't have been very long, he looks too young....arrgghh if I could just remember his name! He silently berated himself and made a mental note to commit the harper's name to memory once it surfaced.

"I'm Ollin. I was just assigned to the Weyr to assist the other Scribes." He prayed the boy would introduce himself as well, and not make Ollin look like a fool for forgetting the name of a fellow apprentice.

Ah of course, that's why he looked so familiar. It wasn't long after this 'Terroll' had walked the tables that Ollin had as well. His bright red hair should have made him easier to remember, which made Ollin feel a bit bad that he didn't pay much attention to the people outside of his studies and group of friends. "Ah, I just walked the tables myself this last sevenday. Pretty amazing, isn't it? For two young Journeymen like ourselves to get stationed at a Weyr?" Ollin was still particularly happy about his first assignment. Also knowing there was someone his age in a similar situation that he could relate to took a considerable amount of stress off his shoulders. He hadn't even realized the weight of it until it suddenly lessened. He gave the other Journeyman a sheepish, but thankful smile.

After listening to Terroll's directions, even though he didn't seem to know the exact location of the archives, the fact that he knew where someone should know the answer was reassuring enough. It was nice to know he wouldn't be left to wander on his own, and better yet, his guide was someone he knew...even if only in passing.

As they headed on their way, Ollin decided to strike up a conversation. It was always noisy in the Harper Hall, especially compared to the huge empty Bowl of the Weyr. It was more than a little unnerving at the sudden change in atmosphere. "Thank you so much again for your help, I really didn't know what I was going to do when that dragon rider just took off like that..." Ollin would definitely give him a piece of his mind if he ever saw him again, that was for sure. "So what was your specialty at Harper Hall?"

So Terroll was a Drummer. He would certainly be working a great deal once the Thread arrived, which would be coming soon. Although there was a Turn or so yet to prepare, people were still watching for the telltale 'crackdust' in the northern regions. Tensions were rising between the Holds and Weyrs, those doubtful of the return of Thread now openly voicing their opinions. With all the recorded documents of Thread in Harper Halls archives, there was just no way it wasn't returning soon, if only Ollin could share that information with the disbelievers...of course, they'd probably say it was all forged or made up...people have a bad tendency of supporting irrational thoughts near times of crisis.

Ollin was surprised to learn of the great influx of people, though after he really thought about it, it made sense with two Hatchings so near...probably the reason they'd needed an additional scribe. "With so many eggs, I expect this place is crawling with candidates...hopefully many will Impress and we'll have a slew of new dragon riders to face the coming Thread." Ollin's face blanched at the idea of once again flying on dragon back, he even had to cover his mouth as he felt the bile rise in his stomach. "Although I'm personally glad that I'll be staying here, safe on the ground." Oh yes, definitely taking the ship back to the mainland if he ever had to leave Ista's island. Ollin felt a little ashamed that he was working in a Weyr, yet couldn't ride on dragonback (at least, not without getting sick).

Trying to get his mind off the terrible experience, he expanded more on the topic of Thread. "Still, with Thread so close, the Holders are starting to get anxious...and not in the good way. I've even heard of Holds skimming or outright not paying their tithes." It was disturbing to think that the closer Thread came, the less cooperative people were, at least, until it actually started falling. "For the Pern's sake, I wish the Thread would come sooner...people can always come together against a common threat, but when it's 'peaceful' like this, the tension between fellow man is ridiculous." If only all the people on Pern knew what Ollin did about the history of Thread, and the brave dragon riders who continuously saved the people form it.

Listening to Terroll made Ollin's chest clench a little in anger at the idiotic Holders. "Now, rather than just one Weyr on Pern to tithe to, this Pass we have all the Weyrs in an overcrowded state..." Ollin sighed to himself. If it wasn't one problem, it was another. Nobody ever seemed to truly believe in Thread until they saw it with their own eyes, despite all the songs, documents, stories, and whatnot passed down through the ages. That people could be so ignorant really grated on Ollin's nerves, and he desperately wished there was some way to shove it in their heads so they'd understand the true danger about to befall them all.

"If it were me, I'd let those didn't want to tithe stop, then once Thread came let the whole lot get Threadscored..." Ollin regretted the words as soon as he said them, it left a worse feeling in his chest than before. Deep down he knew he didn't wish misfortune on his fellow man, but the anger in his head made him say things in the heat of the moment, without really thinking about them. His expression turned troubled as he fought with this inner turmoil. For all their cognitive and sentient thought, people could still be as dumb as a Herdbeast, even Ollin himself.

At the mention of the records of the archives, Ollin's head cleared, now focused on a subject he had much more control over. "I intend to look at every tablet and scrap of wherhide on the matter. Sadly, from what I've read in the archives at Harper Hall, this kind of trouble usually happens near the first Threadfalls of the past Passes. I have a feeling it's not going to change in the future...especially during the Long Intervals...I can't imagine how those dragon riders of the Ninth Pass pulled through..." The records of Passes following the Long Intervals, especially the recent Ninth Pass, were terrible. Holders came to believe Thread was just a myth, and dragon riders were ostracized and treated poorly by many Pernese people. At the very least, the thought that Thread would soon be here consoled Ollin's worries a bit, since the people of Pern would finally get to see with their own eyes the terrible monstrosity of Thread, and come to love their dragon riders again.

Lost in thought, Ollin didn't even notice the steady change in light as they walked from the Bowl to the Lower Caverns. As they slowed to enter the Dining Hall, Ollin accidentally bumped into Terroll, not enough to knock him over or anything, but Ollin immediately apologized for his lack of concentration. "Ah...sorry...I wasn't paying attention..."

(just a note, now that L'rir's been accepted, I changed the brown dragon rider who carried Ollin to the Weyr to be him [it was originally intended to be him anyway, but I didn't want to bring him in prior to acceptance...just in case XD])

Ollin's face flushed a bit as he heard Terroll's soft chuckling, mostly from embarrassment...mostly...he shook his head clear before any wayward thoughts could enter. If he wasn't carrying his luggage, and didn't feel he'd make a fool of himself, he would have slapped his face at even the hint of such thoughts. But he did not want to give off such a weird first impression to the lady, a dragon rider by her clothing, in front of him.

The way Terroll "purred" at the woman, S'neca he called her, made him grimace inwardly a bit...seeming like Terroll was hitting on her. Ollin had never been comfortable around men trying to court woman they fancied. However, by S'neca's response, it seemed more like a friendly exchange rather than Ollin's first impression of Terroll trying to charm the girl.

At the short introduction, Ollin came out from behind the taller boy to introduce himself properly. "Pleased to you." He nodded his head in a slight bow out of respect for the dragon rider.

S'neca chuckled a bit upon seeing the small boy. "Well now, nothin' but skin and bones you are...I'm sure our head cook will try to fix that right quick." Though initially it felt like a bit of a jibe, her genuine smile dashed away any bad feelings Ollin could have had about the remark...besides, he heard the same thing numerous times from Harper Hall's headwoman, it wasn't anything new. "I'm S'neca, rider of green Koith. Pleasure to meet you as well, little Scribe." Ollin hoped that nickname 'small Scribe' wouldn't stick...but he had his worries.

"Now as for our records hall..." S'neca stroked her chin a bit, trying to recall the exact location in the Weyr. She had hardly been there in her days at the Weyr, never really needing to go there herself except on errands before she became a dragon rider. "I think..." she paused, double checking her memory before she went on, "...it's in the more southern Lower Caverns." She didn't sound quite confident, and Ollin was more than a little worried. He remembered the brown dragon rider who'd dropped him off saying wandering was the best way to get to know the place...but he wasn't too enthused about the idea.

(and congrats on Terroll becoming T'roll! Such a beautiful blue!)