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After being Searched Ennrik had been given scant time to collect his things, but he'd still been mostly packed from his trip back to his Hold from Harper Hall, so there hadn't been too much to pack, really. A few changes of clothes. His guitar. Really, that was it. He'd known bringing the guitar was inviting trouble, but he hoped to keep it out of the way and hidden, only playing it for his own pleasure. It shouldn't be too difficult to manage, after all, with all the people coming and going in Ista Weyr lately.

Ennrik had been in Ista Weyr for a little over a day, and he had yet to sleep. There was too much to see and learn for sleep to be anything like a reasonable option. Unpacking was a similarly unreasonable expectation. It was mundane and could be done at any point in the future. Learning his way around the Weyr took precedence. He was old to stand at a Hatching, and if he didn't Impress, there probably wouldn't be another one for him. So he had to take advantage of this opportunity. He was familiar with the most important paths - those that led to the kitchens and the candidates' dormitory. That was easy. And ultimately boring. It was time to get out of the caves and see the sky again, he decided.

Finding his way back to the Bowl of the Weyr took some doing, but eventually he figured out that if he watched the ground, the ways that led outside all sported evidence of their eventual destination in the form of sand or dirt or some other boot-tracked sediment. Of course, that method only worked when one was already close to being outside. Finally, however, he managed to get outside and feel the sun on his skin. And in his eyes. The latter smarted more than he had expected it to, but it passed, leaving spots that lingered for several moments more.

As he emerged into daylight Ennrik saw an enormous beast that was generally considered "small" take to the sky, sweeping up dust with its wings. In the blue's wake Ennrik noticed a person who looked similarly bewildered. He guessed it would take a long time before he was used to seeing dragons, and reminded himself that if he didn't Impress, it would be even longer, if ever. Not that he really believed the sight of a dragon could ever become commonplace.

He realized belatedly that he'd been standing there, blinking stupidly for some time, and that he probably looked like a simpleton. Not a great first impression. So he strode across the dusty bowl toward the other young man and offered him a wry smile.

"Abandoned, eh? Need any help with your things?" The offer to help carry was uncharacteristic, but he wanted to try to start of on good terms with people here. He didn't know how long he'd be dealing with them, and he'd learned a bit from his experiences at Harper Hall.

Ennrik had always found that the safest kind of offer to make was the sort he wouldn't actually be taken up on. That was what had prompted his offer to help with the other young man's things. If someone of Ghilani's build couldn't manage to heft that satchel, Ennrik would have been extraordinarily surprised. That said, he would have been willing to follow through on his offer, even though it would have struck him as a tad ridiculous to accept help with such a bag, because Ennrik tried never to make offers or promises he couldn't or didn't plan to follow through on. A Harper made his way on his wits and his words even more than on his music, or so the masters had drilled into his head, particularly over the last two years.

Part of getting by on wits and words was always having a sense of what to say and what not to say, and when. This included greetings and introductions. He'd greeted Ghilani, and even made a friendly gesture, but he'd neglected the equally important introduction part of the process, which irked him a little. Not that there was any reason for him to get worked up about it, so he shrugged it off easily. He took the proffered hand in a reasonably firm grip.

"It's good to meet you, Ghilani. I'm Ennrik. Did they tell you where you're supposed to be?"

He'd been lucky. The rider that brought him had actually walked him to the Lower Caverns and from there someone had showed him where his cot would be. He supposed there might have been a few introductions, but he couldn't remember any names for the time being. Even the name of the blue that had Searched him and his rider escaped him for the present. He knew it would come back to him once all the excitement had died down, or if he saw the pair again. Well. He might not recognise the dragon on his own, but he'd definitely recongize the rider. He hoped.

Ennrik nodded in acknowledgment of Ghilani's pleasantries and was glad to reclaim his hand. It wasn't so much that he had an aversion to being touched as he had an aversion to being clung to. There were various reasons for that, but they were all in the past and had little bearing on his present or future except that they would occasionally manifest in a reluctance to shake hands with or embrace others. Fortunately, he was male, and therefore not expected to go about hugging others all the time. Things like wrestling, which were more commonplace, he simply avoided, stating that he preferred other kinds of sport, which was the truth.

"Yes, I'm a candidate, too. But in the slightly-more-than-a-day since I've been here, no one's bothered to tell me much more than where and when I'm to sleep and eat. I expect they'll get around to it eventually." But he didn't have any plans to bring their attention to the fact that someone had been remiss in their candidate briefing duties until his curiosity about the Weyr had been satisfied. One could only learn so much from songs and histories, after all.

"Really, it's probably for the best no one's taken it into their heads to boss us around. In a place like this, I'm sure there's always work that needs done, and extra hands to do it are always welcome." As he said this he couldn't resist glancing at his hands and his slender, quick fingers which bore calluses from practicing stringed instruments daily since beginning his apprenticeship as a Harper.

"It was sudden for me, too. I think it's like that for everyone except those who grow up in the Weyr." His gaze shifted from his hands to the skies as a coud passed before the sun and created a shadow that might've been a dragon, which reminded him that the Bowl probably wasn't the best place to stand around jawing. "Let's get inside before something big and winged fails to notice us and we end up as draconian toe jam, shall we?"

He jerked his head toward the entrance he'd emerged from minutes before. If his explorations were to be curtailed, that would be disappointing, but he felt he really ought to share as much knowledge as he had. Like it was his duty as a marginally-senior candidate and a failed Harper.

Ennrik glanced over his shoulder at Ghalani as he moved back into the shadows of the Weyr's indoors area. He was curious about Ghalani, and would have liked to know more, but he supposed questions could wait. He would, undoubtedly, learn more over the course of however long it took the eggs to harden on the sands. He assumed that the eggs must be something resembling close to hatching, since it made no sense to send dragons out on Search too pre-emptively, but he had no experience with dragons except for the blue that which brought him to Ista Weyr, and very limited experience with firelizards.

"I assure you, I have no intention of losing you accidentally-on-purpose. Even if you have a different opinion than I," he said. He smiled as he said it, but behind his smile he was wondering what sort of cracked egg went looking for extra work. At Harper Hall extra work tended to mean copying music or tuning instruments or something, but he suspected that at Ista Weyr extra work actually meant work. He couldn't help shying away from that.

Listening to Ghalani explain his stance, Ennrik did have to admit that the other boy had a point. It did not, generally speaking, take the brightest glow to know that it was unwise to leave a number of boys and young men to their own devices for any great length of time. By himself, Ennrik could probably figure out dozens of ways to wreak havoc in a place as busy as the Weyr. With several someones to direct, he could create a truly masterful calamity if he were so inclined. It was fortunate, Ennrik supposed, that he appreciated his autonomy more than he appreciated his own cleverness.

"You've got a point about leaving candidates too much alone, but I think they're trusting us, as older candidates, to know how to behave, if not what's expected of us specifically."

Ghalani's last question reminded him of the answer to some of his own questions. It was possible the Search was being conducted early (if it was) because there were two clutches on the sands at the moment, and so it would take more time to find a sufficiency of candidates to give the hatchlings a choice when it came to Impression. He wondered that Ghalani wasn't aware of the situation until it occurred to him that he only knew about it because the Harpers had known about it, and if Ghalani's home and upbringing hadn't been conducive to hearing that sort of gossip, it was likely he'd have no idea about the two clutches.

"And, yes, there is something else going on. There are two queens who have clutches on the sands. It's not quite unprecedented, but it's extraordinarily rare, and fairly inconvenient, too. I imagine that's where most everyone's attention is these days. At least it improves our chances, neh?"

He was, of course, assuming that Ghalani wanted to Impress a dragon, but he couldn't believe that anyone didn't secretly harbor dreams of flying on the back of his own dragon companion, bonded in mind, heart, and soul. Harpers had been trying to perfectly convey that unique union for centuries, and still they fell short.

Ennrik chuckled at Ghilani. Not at his clumsiness so much as his attitude toward said behavior. He was grateful to have outgrown the awkwardness of his teenage years. He'd been all hands and feet and he couldn't even play properly. At least his voice had settled quickly. Fat lot of good that did him. His chuckle turned toward himself, but no one outside of his head would have noticed that, probably. He had not, apparently, outgrown his teenage angsting habits yet, and that was what amused him about himself.

"Let's hope not. I don't know where dead bodies are supposed to be taken." Privately, Ennrik was hoping he knew how to get from the Bowl back to their dormitory. He had a good memory, but the place was labyrinthine, and if he allowed himself to be distracted they might never make it back. At least, not without help.

"Don't give me too much credit. I wasn't specifically looking for people to help. I was just looking around for interesting things. Found you," he looked at Ghilani in askance, as if to say Are you interesting? Before any comment could be made to accompany the facial expression he replied to Ghilani's remark about two queens.

"I'm sure. Though I doubt anyone'll explain the significance of it to us any time soon, other than the obvious lack of space it'll cause. Not until they know if we Impress or not, since it wouldn't make much sense to embroil us in Weyr politics if it turns out we don't need to know about it."

Of course, he was thinking about it from the point of view of one who probably wouldn't stand at another hatching. He'd soon be too old, and many would say he was too old already if asked. Twenty was pushing the limits for most people. He should be a journeyman at a craft or otherwise gainfully employed, and not still chasing dreams of riding a-dragonback. His father's exact words. Not that he'd stopped his son from going with the blue rider (What was his name?).

"I think we stand equal chances of Impressing," Ennrik replied, then added teasingly, "Us and all the other scores of people they dredge up. We'll just have to hope that dragons are more taken by brains and good looks, rather than practical knowledge about dragons and Weyrs, ne?"

While reality was something he usually gave himself a great deal of personal credit for understanding, talking to Ennrik was quickly bursting that particular ego bubble. Ghilani certainly did not know a great deal about Weyrs or dragons, but the more questions he asked (or jokingly voiced) the more answers he got that prompted five or more additional questions.

"Lack of space? Are you kidding?" The look on his face was open enough to tell Ennrik that he certainly wasn't kidding. For starters, he certainly hadn't noticed that the Weyr was overcrowded. To the contrary he had thought (and still thought... to an extent) that the place was huge. Surely the riders and their dragons must be rattling around in a space this enormous?! Even a closer inspection wasn't likely to sway his opinion, since to anyone holderbred, a dwelling with this much open space and open sky was beyond comprehension.

At least until he got used to it.

"I mean, I can understand only telling us as much as they think we need to know... but how can you tell that this place is overcrowded?" It was a honest enough question, and whether he knew it or not, was directly related to his lack of knowledge in regards to dragonkind. Frankly, Ghilani wasn't likely to comprehend the notion of dragon-sized space requirements until he either had a dragon himself, or worked with them.

"But thanks for the vote of confidence, though perhaps we should both invest in new combs to better woo the hatchlings when the time comes?" He replied to the tease in kind, hefting the satchel a little to adjust the weight.

As the voices drew closer still to him, Conomor came to a halt completely and turned around with a quizzical smile on his face. Ah. They were definitely older than he. Ah well, that hardly mattered; by the sounds of it they were very newly arrived and might need some help. One of them even still had a bag with him.

"We have about three hundred and seventy five dragons with their riders living here at the moment," he said, choosing to jump straight into the conversation; they could tell him to butt out if they wanted to. "Sensibly there's room for about two hundred fifty here at Ista. The problem isn't too obvious because it's got bad enough that temporary weyrs have been set up in the forest. Every rider has to have someone sharing their weyr if they live here, and with more than forty eggs on the sands things are only going to get worse."

Well, that was enough bad news for now; he didn't want to put them off or make them think he was all gloom and doom after all. "I'm Conomor," the stocky youth said with a slight bow of his head, "I've lived here all my life so if there's anything you need to know feel free to ask me. I'm guessing you two are Candidates for the hatching as well?" Both looked quite old for it, but probably not quite too old.