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 Posted: Thu Jul 23, 2009 6:07 am
Well, here she was again. Sans dragon. Kella felt like she was having deja vu. She'd gone through this entire process before. "They asked me to stand, I got my hopes up, and now look- I'm alone. Again," she sighed heavily. Kella sat on her cot, in the candidate barracks- they were empty, for the most part. The Weyrlings were either at the feast in their honor, or were in the weyrling barracks. The remaining candidates had either gone home with their families after the hatching, back to hold or hall. The few weyrbound candidates that remained were, for the most part, at the hatching feast. As far as Kella knew, she was alone in the barracks.
So, she wasn't ashamed to let a tear slide from her eye. One tear became two, and two became many- before long, the young woman was crying. Kella wanted nothing more than to impress, to be found worthy to be privy so such an amazing thing- being a rider. The one thing she wanted more than anything else seemed unobtainable! She'd been presented on the sands as a candidate three times now, yet here she was.
NOT TO MENTION- the blue betweening?! What in Faranth's name had that dumb, senseless, dimglow, b***h-girl done?! Kella's heart had nearly been torn in two watching the blue stumble around, trying to find a rider. In the end, he'd failed. No matter what anyone said, although the general consensus was with her, Kella placed the blame all at Kyllae's feet. "Where does she get off, thinking she's better then everyone else, gets to touch the eggs first," Kella muttered between sobs, taking a deep breath to calm herself and get the words out. Oh, man, was she grateful that the barracks were empty- Kella didn't know how she felt about letting someone see her in such a vulnerable, emotional state. She didn't think that anyone had ever seen her cry.
Kella was still in her candidate's robe, but she sat on the bed with her knees up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her shins, and her head on her knees. The white fabric of the robe pooled around her knees and thighs, and the sleeves had been pushed up to around her elbows. She unwrapped her arms from around her legs, only in order to use one of her sleeves as a handkerchief. She wiped her eyes dry, but almost immediately recalled the pitiful, heart-wrenching cries the blue had made- and the tears began anew.
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Posted: Thu Jul 23, 2009 7:09 am
{{Do rooms in the barracks have doors? I don't know...}}
Raedue had been intent on dragging Zafir to the feast, fresh from the sands no less. But, after a bit of half hearted argument, Zafir had won the right to at least change out of his sand filled, bile scented candidate robes and wash his hair- he always seemed to be washing his hair anymore- before showing up. He had no doubt the Runner would throttle him for skipping it, but the weaver just could not bear the thought of going and celebrating.
As he'd cleaned himself up, all Zafir had been able to think about was the little blue. He hadn't even had time yet to realize just how much of a failure he personally felt like. Oh, he knew well enough that not Impressing wasn't a failure, that a hatching wasn't a win or lose situation, but that didn't change the way it felt.
And to see so much injury, so much death at his first hatching... It was nothing shy of terrible.
Perhaps he needed to go, to breath in some happier air, and bolster his spirits with the joy of the newly Impressed and the commiserative celebration of his brethren, the still-candidates. With a groan into his empty room (where were those roommates anyway, he'd barely so much as seen them since arriving) he'd pulled on something gather-worthy. He'd stitched it together, over months, out of bits of sisal fabric that he'd taken out of scrap piles during his apprenticeship. Mostly white, with bold geometric patterns in other colors along the hem and sides, and black trim at the neck.
Once upon a time, he remembered being proud of it, looking forward to getting to wear it in public and show off.
As he paced back through the barracks, he did not feel any particular pride. There were much finer achievements, in this night, than he himself had made. He wished, in passing, that some of the exuberant joy of his friends- he had such exaggeratedly happy friends- would rub off on him. He could imagine himself carrying on for ages about how long he'd taken to create the fine tunic, and perhaps taking the first steps in fulfilling his offers to Raedue and M'rik for new ones.
If it hadn't been for the stone nature of the Weyr, Zafir would most likely have walked right past the room filled with crying, and never have noticed it at all. But, stone echoes in the strangest ways, and abruptly he wanted to be miserable with company for a while, instead of stuffing himself with fine food that he wouldn't be able to appreciate.
He considered knocking, but that didn't seem very likely to get him the right to come and be pathetic with whoever was in the room. It sounded like a young woman, but then, who could be sure, all things considered?
So, instead, he slipped into the room and studied the poor bundle of white robes and dark skin. She was tiny, even by his own standards, and that was an achievement, to be sure. It only made him feel worse, though, seeing someone so small clearly in such distress. Perhaps this had been a bad plan...
He searched, for a bit, to find the words that would sound least stupid for this. Have you done this before? not... no that's not good. What about 'it'll get better'? Except I don't particularly feel like getting better at the moment... And no one in their right minds should ever ask if someone is "alright" in this state...
"Would you like... to... have some company?" It was the best he could come up with. Perhaps, under normal circumstances, his occasional eloquence would have reared its head. But, he was just as exhausted, though perhaps not quite as heartbroken, as the little girl on the bed in front of him.
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Posted: Thu Jul 23, 2009 11:11 am
Another hatching over, and this the most emotionally draining of them all. Pendra had tried to do what she had before and cover her sorrows in work but the women in the kitchens had seen her scraps and the tears that just kept flowing coming back. "Pendra, please get some rest. You'll end up hurting yourself trying to cut tubers with those tears in your eyes," one said finally. The words coming as they had from one of the cook's assistants was more like an order and Pendra obeyed. A wrapped bundle of meat rolls and a skin of fruit juice were pressed upon her. "You eat some of that, we can't have you wasting away to nothing on us."
She drifted through the Weyr slowly trying to avoid others. It was somber but those that had impressed had the right to their celebration. In the midst of the happenings in the Weyr another Turn had past, another turn closer to when she'd no longer be allowed to stand. When it came down to it with so many others, the Weyrleaders could probably ask her give up her place.
"I'm weyrbred, its my right to stand for some time to come," she said nodding to herself. "I just don't know how much more I can take," she added with long sigh...
Finally she reached the barracks fully expecting the place to be empty. She turned to her own room and was surprised to hear voices a couple doors down. Not completely in the mood to be alone, she decided to investigate.
It was a self concious young woman who peered into the door, her bundle of food held against her chest... Pendra was a bit surprised to see one of the male candidates. She coughed discretely hoping she wasn't interrupting, it wasn't unknown for relationships to bloom during candidate years though it was very against the rules.
"Hello?" she said softly...
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Posted: Fri Jul 24, 2009 12:33 pm
The barracks were just about empty, save for a few rejected candidates lingering in their rooms. The barracks, empty as they were, provided an excellent auditorium; Kella could hear the betweened blue's pitiful cries as though he was roaming the halls. Still looking for his rider, he called out time and time again. Kella felt her heart being nearly tugged out of her chest. Surely someone could have done something to save him? It was ALL Kyllae's fault! Between sobs, Kella sucked in great lungfuls of air. She tried to calm herself, but found the pain too fresh to push aside.
Being in the state she was, it was easy for Kella to be oblivious. She knew there were probably other candidates in the barracks, but she didn't expect any of them to look in on her. She had hardly any friends- none of whom had been candidates. So when Zafir poked his head in her doorway, Kella was surprised- to say the least. He stumbled upon her mid-sob, eyes red and puffy, nose probably dripping with a bit of snot. Kella quickly wiped her face off on her sleeve. She bristled, throwing up a defensive wall immediately. It was almost tangible!
"Not really," she snarled in response to his question. She was more upset at being caught in such a prone, vulnerable, and embarassing state! Kella wasn't the type to cry- and when she did, she certainly did NOT like people watching her. Kella was even more offended by the fact a BOY was on the GIRL'S side of the barracks. She supposed that since there was no longer a clutch on the sands, the rules would be relaxed. But, still! She wasn't too happy. Her mood darkened considerably when ANOTHER candidate decided that her room should be party-central.
Kella's dark eyes narrowed on the doorway as she heard another voice- another candidate. Seriously? What the ********. Wasn't anyone allowed to wallow in self-pity, in peace? Kella sighed heavily, glaring at Zafir. Pendra was behind him, out in the hallway, and out of view- or else she would have gotten a nasty glance from the dark-skinned girl as well. Kella threw her legs over the edge of the bed, and if they reached the floor, she would have tapped a foot impatiently. "Well?" She demanded of Zafir, expecting an explanation for his presence in her room- and PROMPTLY.
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