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 Posted: Wed Apr 08, 2009 9:54 am
Carefully, ever so carefully, the weavercraft apprentice slowly made her way along the ancient rock floor, her soft hands moving along the walls as a way to help keep herself steady. During dinner she had overheard news of a small space that kept one safe from the Gold on the sands but also let one take a peek at the current clutch of eggs. There was nothing wrong with that, was there? It seemed plenty had already done so, if they they were allowed to, certainly Talar was entitled for a good look or two at her possible dragon egg. Pausing to toss her braids back over her shoulders, the red-head took a moment to get better bearings on her surroundings. It would be humiliating to get lost, or even get caught peeking at the eggs, just in case it wasn’t allowed. And humiliation was right at the top of Talar’s list of things to not experience.
Moving forward, the teenager finally pulled herself up onto the small ledge, settling in as her brown eyes moved over the eggs. They were all different colors and sizes… Somewhere beneath her sense of entitlement to one of those eggs was a small spark of genuine awe, something in her moving ever so slightly towards true emotion at the thought of such a majestic creature coming from such a humble beginning.
“One of them better be mine,” she muttered to herself, effectively squashing any sort of sentimental feeling that may have been coming to the surface.
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Posted: Wed Apr 08, 2009 7:57 pm
Excusing herself from breakfast, Kriia spent the morning exploring the Weyr, trying to get a better handle of where exactly she was. She had never been to the Ista Weyr, far too caught up in her family business and far too young to warrant a trip to the Weyr- her parents never even thought their daughter might want to.
To be honest, Kriia never really had thought about Ista Weyr as more than just another dot on the map, nothing there really excited her or filled her with passionate longing like the other Holdbrats she grew up with. It held a certain kind of humour, almost a satire, that Kriia was the one who made it to Ista Weyr- the girl without dreams of flying dragons. A strange child, Kriia did not dream; rather, she was content to be told what to do, and never questioned her place in life. That morning, for the first time in her life, Kriia woke up and remembered that she dreamt. It didn't mean anything, simply the subconcious going on a joy ride, but it begged the idea that perhaps Kriia was not as content with her lot as she once thought. Feeling rather pissy about the whole idea, Kriia stomped around Ista Weyr, a mulish expression on her face. She knew the math of the matter: over 80 candidates (and counting) and only two clutches of eggs. She would statistically be a failure every time, and the thought of failing really did not sit well with Kriia.
She had entered a dark cavern under the stairs somewhere (Faranth, she'd never retrace her steps) and was now ducking under some overgrown stalagmites. It was cramped, it was dark- but there was a pinprick of light coming from the corner. Moving over to it, it was suddenly blocked by a figure. Feeling rather uneasy, Kriia called out a wobbly greeting.
"H-hullo?"
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Posted: Fri Apr 10, 2009 12:13 am
Interrupted from her thoughts by the sound of another person moving along the thin corridor, Talar stood as quickly as she dared, neither wanting to knock her head or alarm the Queen that was down on the sands. She was rather important- if she did say so herself, which she often did- but the red headed young woman did not exactly want to try and explain that to a rampaging dragon. Adjusting her skirt, she was also relieved to hear the voice of a girl, one probably younger than herself. She didn't exactly want to explain herself to someone with more power and stature than herself either.
"Hello," she replied, not at all tentatively. Sure of herself now, she settled back on the little ledge, a small smirk playing on her lips. "It seems that it's just you and I down here, whoever you are." Arching an eyebrow as the girl came into view, Talar revised her opinion of the other's age. She looked much older than she sounded, and the Weavercrafter wondered who this girl was. "Talar," she said, introducing herself without invitation. After all, why would she need an invitation? Practically everyone wanted to know who she was, the girl with the lovely red hair, and those who didn't already did! What luck for the girl to run into Talar like this!
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