So. This was to be home for the next several Turns.
Varran appraised the small alcove. Two beds, a couple of shelves above each, stark stone walls unrelieved except for two white robes hanging on pegs. His eyes fixed on the robes, Varran threw his pack onto one of the beds, and picked up the tent-like expanse of scratchy fabric. For a few minutes, he rubbed the material between his fingers, as his eyebrows drew together in a frown. You'd think that something this significant would glow, or whirl like a dragon's eye. But it was just an innocuous bit of fabric.
Varran hung the robe back up, and looked back around the alcove. There was very little to do. He unpacked his belongings, placing his spare shirt and trousers on the bottom shelf unit, along with his shaving blade. For the top, a small twist of scrap metal, the smallest of his hammers, and his Apprentice knot. That done, he flung himself onto the furs, and stared at the ceiling for awhile. Really, this wasn't so bad. From what he'd heard, he'd only spend a fraction of his time in the alcove. He'd been promised chores, and plenty of them. Even with the many Candidates running around, there was plenty of work to be done.
"Hmmm..." Varran sat up, and laid eyes on the opposite bed. His eyebrows jumped for the ceiling. That was right! He was supposed to have a roommate. He peered about the room for signs of foreign habitation. There was nothing immediately apparent. Perhaps he hadn't moved in yet? Ah well. Varran shrugged to the empty room. He was bound to run into him at some point, wasn't he? In the meantime, he was sure the Candidate Master would have something for him to do.
Varran stood, and pushed aside the cloth closing off his new home from the corridor. Now, left or right?
