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Dinner was past, but it was not yet time for bed. As such, he was currently the only weyrling in the dormitory. He didn't mind particularly, he wasn't the sort that needed to be around people day in day out. For now, he was just sitting beside one of the hearths, turning the speckled egg in its pot of sand that rested in the heat every so often. It was really quite hard now, and Conomor often found himself worrying that it might hatch while he wasn't around. He'd definitely have to find someone with both free time and a flit to watch over it after tomorrow so that he could be summoned at once when it began to hatch.

What colour would it be, he wondered? He'd never actually seen a flit egg up close before, so he had no idea if this one was large, small, or in between. Whatever the colour actually turned out to be was immaterial in the end; he was just enjoying the speculation, and quietly pondering what he might name the little hatching. He still couldn't believe he'd got it for three quarters of a mark, and a quarter of that had only been given at a stab of his conscience. The trader hadn't had a clue of the value of his unusual wares, poor man.

Still, he wasn't about to complain about it. Smiling softly to himself, Conomor turned the egg slightly once more before settling back into a more comfortable position on the stone floor and gazing peacefully into the hearth.

Conomor blinked in surprise as the voice called out to him; he had been so absorbed in his own thoughts he hadn't heard the boy enter. He recognized him as another Candidate, but had no idea of his name. High time introductions were made then. "Hello there, you surprised me," he said with a smile to the other youth. "It's a flit egg, I got it at the gather down at the Hold the other day." Stretching out his well-muscled arms, Conomor got to his feet and stretched further; he hadn't realized how cramped he'd been until the brown-haired youth had disturbed him.

"I'm Conomor," he said with another smile, extending a hand inn greeting. "I've seen you about the place but with things as busy as they've been I haven't had a chance to say hello before." How old was the other boy? He was small, but his face wasn't all that young. On balance, Conomor decided it was best not to make even an internal assumption on that score. Getting people's age wrong was embarrassing at the best of times but for people of around their age being even one turn out often prompted extreme animosity. He couldn't understand why people were so sensitive about age himself, but then he couldn't understand why people were so sensitive about a lot of things. Shows of temper and histrionics were not his style at all, and he had to confess to more than a little contempt for people who got worked up over petty matters.

Conomor rolled his shoulders one more time before plopping back down on the floor and bending to inspect the egg. "I only got it because the merchant didn't know how much it was worth," he grinned, "he was asking half a mark, but because my conscience is too prominent for my own good I gave him three quarters." Shaking his head to himself, Conomor turned the egg in its sand again and brushed most of the top layer aside so that the other boy could see the speckled shell.

"I've no idea what colour it might be; never actually seen one of these up close before. Odds say it'll be a green of course, but you never know..." Frowning to himself slightly, Conomor shifted the pot slightly in the hearth. "Should hatch pretty soon; I'm going to have to figure out a way to be around when it does. With all the chores we get, like you say, I'm hardly ever in here."

Conomor shrugged his shoulders. "Half of all flits are green so it's the most likely, but you're right; it's just as likely that it'll be any other colour as green. Hopefully I'll be able to train it to behave, whatever it is," he added with a slight smile and a shake of his head. "I can see myself getting into lots of trouble on its account if I can't." He'd had flits swipe food clean off his plate more than once, and heard of them getting into far more mischief than just that.

"I think I'll see if I can get someone to watch it for me," he said with a nod after a brief pause. "I was thinking if I could find someone with a flit of their own, the flit would know when it was about to hatch and the owner could come and fine me. Not sure who I'd ask, though." He wasn't exactly close with anyone owing a flit, but if he asked nicely he might be lucky. After all, people who had flits loved them and wouldn't want one to hatch out all alone. They might want to impress it themselves, but that was a matter to worry about at a later date.

"So, have you sneaked a look in at the clutches yet?" Conomor asked the other boy as he dusted warm sand carefully back over the flit egg.

Conomor grinned and nodded, the matter of his future flit's beheviour pushed right out of his mind for the time being. "Yes, I've sneaked a couple of looks now. I can't wait until the Touching; it'll all feel a bit more real then, right now I feel almost like I'm in a dream." To walk out on the sand under the mighty queen's watchful eyes and lay his hands on each shell, perhaps briefly feeling the beginnings of the mind of his dragon. If his dragon was out there. He hoped it was. He so desperately hoped it was.

"It could be that he does," Conomor added, his mind sliding back onto the matter of flits. "I was there a little while ago getting myself some smart clothes at last but I didn't spot one. Perhaps she was out causing trouble somewhere else at the time," he said with a smile and a shake of his head as he glanced back at the little speckled egg in its pot.

Conomor chuckled and nodded. "Oh yes, queens are big alright. I grew up here so I've been around dragons all my life and I'm still not used to the size of golds and bronzes, or big browns come to that. I've no idea how their riders manage to keep them clean." It must be overwhelming for someone outside the Weyr to see a dragon for the first time. The biggest creature most of them would ever have been close to would be a large heardbeast.

"The eggs were amazing," Conomor went on with a grin, "never stops amazing me how different they all are no matter how many clutches I sneak a look at. I've never seen two dragon eggs that looked exactly the same and I've seen..." he frowned thoughtfully before shrugging, "I've seen a lot of clutches," he concluded.

Conomor shrugged to that, choosing to ignore how the way it was phrased grated on him. If he was new here he supposed he'd have a lot of questions too. "Yes, I've seen a lot of eggs... I suppose I can't be entirely certain," he admitted, "but I don't remember ever seeing two exactly alike. Suffice to say they're hugely varied." It was possible he was wrong he supposed. He didn't think he was, but then quite a lot of people would never admit they were wrong even when faced with solid facts; he might as well admit fallibility.

"Any dragon in a bad mood is frightening," Conomor went on with a slight grimace, "luckily they almost never get angry with us lot. Well, not unless you harm their rider or something of course. Still, even being close to an angry one isn't a nice experience." He'd probably feel a lot better about it once he had a dragon of his own... Well, once his dragon was fully grown anyway.

Conomor gave a slight smile; seemed Nathail hadn't meant anything by it, and as such he was glad he hadn't reacted badly. It was always best to make sure you really had the measure if a situation before acting rashly. "I wouldn't know much about sand," he chuckled, "other than the fact that the sand in the hatching grounds will be painfully hot, and that a lot of dragons like to sleep on sand."

What kind of dragon. What kind? He still didn't have a clue really, but he knew he wasn't the only one like that and it was better to have an open mind on the subject anyway. "Well," he said eventually, "I know for sure that a green wouldn't have me but other than that I've no idea. I like the idea of the authority to make changes and give orders that a bronze or to a lesser degree a brown would bring, but I hate politics and I suppose wouldn't really mind not being the one of the ones in charge. Well," he scowled slightly, "so long as the ones who do get the bigger dragons, especially bronzes, aren't idiots. That I would have a problem with. I suppose in the end I'd like whatever dragon would have me but... yes, I admit the idea of being able to make my suggestions heard easily is attractive."

Blue. Brown. Bronze. He didn't know, or at least if he did know he didn't know it consciously. He'd never been a follower in particular, but he'd never striven to draw power and influence to himself either. Did that mean he should impress a brown? Browns weren't required to be political and competitive like bronzes were but didn't get pushed around like blues. The again, maybe he just needed to Impress a pushy blue or a relaxed bronze. Who knew. Not him, for sure.

"What about you?" he asked eventually, aware that he had been frowning thoughtfully down at his flit egg for some moments. "You got any idea what you might Impress?"