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Varran placed a cautious foot upon the raised Blue's foreleg, and leaped the rest of the way to the dust. He stumbled a bit on the landing, cursing. He was solidly muscled thanks to his Apprenticeship in the Smithcraft, but his legs felt like congealed klah after that trip between. Once he was up, he waved to the Rider, who threw his small bundle to him. Candidates weren't expected to need much, he'd been told, most would be provided for him, and the Weyr was very near full to bursting as it was. Varran felt the distance between himself and his smithing tools like a physical ache. He backed up as the Blue leapt back into the sky, shielding his eyes from the dust those massive wings kicked up. He hadn't any hair to toss in the wind. It was shorn to an extremely short mahogany brown fuzz in the fashion of the Smiths, and Varran, being a practical sort, quite liked the lack of care it needed.

Looks-wise, Varran wouldn't have been one to stand out of a crowd, except for his nose. It was his most distinct feature. It had been broken at some point, and spectacularly so. While it had long since been reset and healed, each individual segment of broken cartilage could still be made out. And there was a distinct twist to it, as if there was an unpleasant smell, and his nose had taken upon itself to seek fresher air off to the right. His clothing was plain, gray trousers, gray flight coat covering a lighter gray tunic. Varran made a point of quickly removing it in the heat of the island sun, throwing it over one arm.

He turned back to the Weyr, regarding it with the critical eye of a craftsman. Even if that eye had been blackened. He'd had the good luck to be Searched while he'd been brawling with Karoph, a rival Smith Apprentice. And there was another thing he was going to miss; paying Karoph back for the black eye. The look on Karoph's face when the Rider approached Varran had been satisfying, though.

And now he was at Ista Weyr, with the chance to Impress a dragon of his own. Varran stretched his limbs, the Weyr was a large place, and he needed to find the Candidate's Master, in order to have an alcove assigned to him. Varran looked at the numerous openings that peppered the Weyr's side, and grinned. Well, he would sure have a chance to explore the place.

It's better to have someone come looking to help, than to go look for it yourself, Varran thought, and smiled as Jessan introduced himself. He appeared to be at least a few turns older than Varran, a reason for concern as Varran hated being patronized. However, Jessan seemed like the honest sort, Varran could see no guile in those blue eyes.

"I suppose I'm joining the club, then." he replied, jerking his head backwards towards where the Blue had set down. "Went and got meself Searched not two days ago. I'm Varran, recently of the Smiths, and if you could point me in the direction of a chair, I'd like to sit down."

Varran's grin gave the joke, but he shook his head in amazement.
"Searched or not, if I ever Impress my own dragon, I doubt I'll ever be able to get used to goin' between!"

Varran looked uncertain. He really could use the help in figuring out where he was supposed to go, but he didn't want to delay Jessan from his random, mindless task. Still, Jessan seemed willing, so Varran shrugged it off and trusted Jessan to manage his own time.

Besides, kitchens were a very good place indeed! Especially if Varran could sit down with a cup of Klah for a few minutes.

"Let's just say it's a unique experience, and leave it at that." he replied to Jessan's comment. "I do appreciate the help. If you ever need an extra back for anything, I'd be glad to return the favor."

With Jessan's sure guidance, they were soon weaving there way through the long halls of the Weyr, and Varran could swear he smelled Klah more strongly with every footstep. It might have been his imagination however, for the Weyr seemed to be packed no matter where they went, and there was no getting around the fact that all those bodies in close quarters made for an interesting set of smells.

"Is it this crowded 'cause we're near the Kitchens, or is it always like this?" Varran asked, narrowly avoiding stepping on someone's foot.

Varran blinked, his eyebrows scrunching up in thought at the word 'rumors', but he said nothing. He'd never put much stock in rumors back in Telgar. There never was a good way to make sure they were true! Right now, the only info Varran would have been glad to have was a map of the Weyr. There was no denying that it was over-crowded, but there was nothing Varran could do about it, so why complain?

He nodded his understanding, and followed Jessan to a table in the kitchens. As soon as the steaming pitcher was placed in front of him, Varran poured himself a cup, and took a slow sip, feeling rays of warmth radiate from his stomach.

"Looks like Ista knows how to make a decent cup of klah." he remarked approvingly. "And I do feel better."

He took another sip, and turned his head to look curiously at his surroundings. The Ista Kitchens seemed a bit bigger than Telgar's. Definitely wasn't big enough to support the current population, though. At that moment, he suddenly felt he was looking down from a high cliff. He was actually at Ista Weyr! Three days ago, at this time of day, he'd been doing his own chores, and now he was here. Well, he wouldn't be pumping bellows for awhile at least, Varran thought. But what would he be doing?

"So, what's expected of Candidates, if you don't mind my askin'?" Varran said, filling his drained cup with another helping of klah. "What kind of chores?"