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"Nessia, right?" Malta turned to the young Candidate, studying her thoughtfully. She really did remind Malta of herself, all those years ago - Malta had noticed it when she'd first met the girl. From her attitude down to her body type, she was almost a mirror... except Malta had noticed that the girl had some iron in her already. Malta had been all fluff, a pushover child without the strength to stand up for herself.

Said Poecileth, walking beside them, her eyes glittering her usual calm green-blue.

This was true. Malta was no longer that girl, but she remembered being that girl well enough. If she hadn't had Poe, she didn't know what she would have become, or how she would have survived the wherwars. She'd never had any other role model, motivator, or support that really understood her. If this girl was like her, if Malta acted as her support... Well. She might do well for herself and others, and not need a war to do it for her. She might even be happy before she was forty

"Have you ever washed a dragon before?"

Poecileth said to the girl. It was unusual for dragons to speak directly to humans, but Poecileth liked to think of herself as exceptional... and as as much of a person as they were. Conversely, they were entitled, she felt, to 'hear' her side of the conversation. Unless they told her not to, she frequently bespoke the candidates as if she was also a teacher - talking through Malta was not fast enough, and sometimes garbled. Fortunately, her mental voice was quiet and smooth, and she had learned over the years how to modulate her voice for the unaccustomed mind. Of course, being a dragon, she easily forgot when someone had told her no... she lowered her head towards Nessia in a friendly, conversational manner, she laughed, a half chuckle, half purr that rang merrily from her throat.

“Yes, she did. She likes to do that to candidates.” She gave her dragon a look. “If you want her to stop, please let her know.”

Poecileth said to Malta, a little sheepish. She didn't think she'd upset the girl, though.

“And, no, you...”

“... yes, but she can't read your thoughts.” Malta stopped at a building. “This is my weyr. Hold there a moment.” she moved inside.

Poecileth said, looking down at the girl,

Malta hesitated over the dragon cleaning supplies, 'listening' to the conversation, curious about how she might be feeling so far. She knew how she had felt – She'd loved the classes, managed the chores, and been miserable about the people. They'd been the roughest part.

Good Malta thought. She seemed happier than Malta had been – with the people, certainly. That meant that she didn't have as far to go to become comfortable, and that meant that the support that Malta could provide would at least be adequate.

the dragon cooed,

Malta emerged from her Weyr with the buckets and rags just in time to hear Nessia's awkward comment about her dragon's... size. “Well.” she said, handing Nessia one of the buckets and a rag, “You work on it as if it was anything else. A lot of anything else.”

Poecileth gave her rider a cool stare, before chuckling before the flurry of mental laughter that came through their bond.

that fat, am I?> she said lightly, though honestly she was a little offended. Only a little though, and only because her rider had been sensitive for such a long time.

Poecileth did have a tendency to grow sideways, still, but her rider... well, look at her now – muscled and atheletic and well-sized. Her rider was beautiful, and she was so pleased. she thought for a moment,

“... except.” Malta interjected, “That she will move around to help us out. Other than that, it's basically the same and just as simple.”

Ahhh, maybe she shouldn't have made that little quip. the dragon laughed, trying to put the child a little more at ease.

“We'll need a lot more water than what these buckets can hold.” Malta explained, “So we'll go to the Weyrlake.” She started to walk, hoping the girl would follow.

Poecileth continued the conversation. She 'lowered' her mental voice,

“I actually went to the healer halls first.” Malta said. If Poecileth was going to gossip about her, then she was going to take over. “And then I was Searched. It was a major change for me.”

They reached the weyrlake, enough water to clean a hundred or more dragons... and also slake their thirst. “So.” she said, setting down the supplies as Poecileth splashed in the water a little bit to start them off, “All of the people you have been meeting... have they been treating you all right?”

“I wanted to be a healer first.” Malta affirmed, “I thought the craft was wonderful – I could learn and I could help people – I enjoyed both of those things, and being allowed to pursue it as a craft... well that was perfect for me. Being Searched did... complicate things.” Poecileth returned and Malta began to demonstrate how to clean her. “All right – use circular movements of the cloth – that helps her shed old skin and helps you reach any dirt that might remain there.”

Poecileth hummed happily – she was looking forward to this. she added to the conversation, laying out for the best reach,

Poecileth and Malta conversed briefly, silently, and wordlessly in an instant.