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Vaythel walked down one of the many corridors leading to the Candidate barracks, a few scrolls of fresh paper, a sealed bottle of wax, a long quill, and a small jar of sand held in his arms. He was going back to his small portion of the barracks to try and write a letter to his old master, as Vaythel really did need to send something to the old coot. Old coot. Vaythel though with a small smirk, He'd take so much offense at that. Proceeding on through the chiseled halls of the weyr, he began to hum an old Harper tune that he always used to hear his master play whenever he though Vaythel wasn't listening. It was a pretty tune, but not something that you'd play at a Gather or other happy occasion. Still, it reminded him of home, and it was something to do other than stare off into space while going through the mazelike tunnels of the weyr.

Vaythel really did like being at the weyr. It might have not been the most glamorous style of living, but it was an honest one that was really quite fulfilling. Maybe he'd be living here for the rest of his life? Vaythel would like that. To actually be in a place where you could be appreciated, for who you are, not because you're the last one that can continue the family, or you're the one that your father picked for greatness. Vaythel furrowed his brows at the memory of the last time he had his father had talked. Well, it wasn't talking so much as a full-fledged argument that had caused much injury on both sides. He didn't get any letters from his father, but Vaythel's mother sent them in thrice every sevenday, at the very least. That little green flit of his master's was almost always sitting on the foot of his bed, a letter rolled up in the little leg canister that her owner had made for her. She was a pleasant sight, really...As Vaythel almost careened into another Candidate walking, he snapped out of his daydreaming with a start, dropping some of the scrolls of paper he had brought with him. The jar of sand came tumbling down shortly after them, and despite Vaythel's best efforts at trying to catch it, it slipped out of his grasp and crashed on the floor.

"Oh, Shards, that's great. Look at what I've gone and done now..." Vaythel grumbled, starting to sweep some of the glass and sand into one of the many scrolls he had brought. Looking up at the girl he had almost hit, he blinked a little before responding to her. "Sorry about that, I just wasn't paying attention..." Vaythel said with a sheepish smile.

"Usually I do. Just got a little distracted...I hope nothing fragile was in there?" Vaythel had gotten most of the sand into the scroll and, frowning at the waste of paper, he turned the scroll into a little bag for the shards of glass and ink sand. "Do you need any help putting all that back into sorts?" he asked, a worried look on his face. Oh dear. He had messed up, that was for sure. The other candidate was not at all happy about Vaythel bumping into her. Vaythel ran a hand through his black hair and sighed. Things were going great today, it seemed. If the rest of the day is like this, then I think I might just stay in the barracks. Vaythel was going to ask if she needed a hand up, but judging from the look on her face, it was maybe best if he didn't ask another question. He -did- want to keep his limbs intact, why thank you.

Vaythel stood up and extended a hand in order to help the downed Kella up, against his better judgment. It was his fault that all her stuff had fallen out and that she had been knocked over, so he could at least try to be a gentleman. That was one thing that his Harper training had taught him--how to not get the stuffing kicked out of you in a bad situation. It looked like he might actually be needing that training now.

This other girl was not happy at all. Idly, Vaythel wondered what had gotten her into a bad mood, right as Kella slapped his hand away. Point one for better judgment. Vaythel opened his mouth to say something, but this time, he listened to his common sense and shut it, really not wanting to anger her further. He took a step back from Kella, enraged as she was. He didn't want to mess with her any more than he already inadvertently had.