Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was hot, humid, and there were people everywhere; another typical day in Ista Weyr.

The intended mass exodus to Igen weyr had been less of a mass exodus and more of a slight leaking of people who weren't afraid to follow Favan the Terrible to her new domain. They still trickled out when a candidate or two decided they'd rather brave the dry Igen heat than remain cramped like sardines into Ista's sweaty tunnels, but for the most part the flow of candidates in and out had steadied. While a bit of the overcrowding had been alleviated, there was still a great deal of it to contend with. The buzz of excitement at the prospect of transferring to a new weyr had died down to a low grumble of dissatisfaction as candidates still found themselves sleeping on the floor and the kitchen drudges realized they were still hard pressed to keep up with the demand for food. Simply put, Ista was still the same hot, sweaty, overcrowded habitat it had always been.

And Moira, in spite of her bed being one of those on the floor and her lack of rank to help push her ahead in the dining hall lines, had grown to love the place. As much as it reeked of too many people, it also smelled of opportunity. The ILA had work to do here yet, and she couldn't just up and abandon Ista in hopes of a better chance at impressing in a place with fewer candidates. No, no, the easy route simply wouldn't cut it.

With her chores done for the morning and her mind relatively free of obligation, Moira stretched her arms out above her head and yawned, standing at the main entrance to the Weyr as she watched the throng of people filter in and out. There were petitioners come to seek the Weyrwoman's counsel, craftsmen, riders, candidates, all of whom were simply milling about their daily lives, all cogs in the vast machine of Ista. Her features set in that seemingly permanent expression of judgmental thoughtfulness, Moira contemplated activities to fill the afternoon.

Surely there had to be something better to do than watch people, however interesting they might be.

This was not what Paran had envisioned when the Searchrider had extolled the virtues of Candidacy. Heat, sun, sticky sweat and dust and people, people everywhere, milling and mussing and not paying any attention to him. He'd escaped the fetid tunnels for a short while to bathe down at the lake- at least there the air was clean- so he was marginally more comfortable than he had been, but still. It was hard to keep up appearances at Ista- the heavy air did terrible things to his gleaming golden curls, and there was just no way to look his best when he was constantly flush with heat.

More, even when he did look his best, there were so many people that none of them ever seemed to notice him- not a good thing for his ego. He'd been entirely noticeable at home, and now... Hrmph. He didn't approve.

He loitered about, his attention snagged by a rather striking young woman who seemed to be people-watching. He liked being watched, really he did. So he started vaguely in her direction, hoping to be noticed, only to find himself irritated when a larger individual nearly walked into her. He supposed that was one way to be noticed. He continued to drift in that direction, hoping for some sort of opening. He was somewhat lonely, of late, he could use someone to talk to.

"C'mor," he said with a smile and a bob of his head, pleased that she wasn't getting snippy with him, he was not in the mood to deal with snippyness. "I was looking at him," he went on, gesturing to the rapidly approaching bronze. "To me he's more interesting that pretty much anything else in the world, but I don't expect anyone else to agree."

"Why wouldn't they?" Naedreth asked as he began to slow for landing, audibly puzzled but his lifemate's comment. "I am the best after all. Maybe not as flashy as some bronzes, but I happen to prefer subtle colours. Anyone who isn't foolish and crass would surely agree, and in any case looks are hardly the most important thing."

Sometimes Naedreth's ego really did stagger him. "You're not the be all and end all to everyone else 'Dreth," he informed the dragon, "especially not to other riders."

"She is not a rider," the muscular creature pointed out as he touched down a short distance from his partner. "Still though, she cannot Impress a bronze so perhaps she is not as interested in my kind no matter how great I am. It doesn't matter too much to me anyway; I would like her to like me, but she does not need to believe I am the best. I know it too well myself to need other people to shout it from the top of the Weyr."

Oh boy. Yea. Naedreth was something special alright. "Naedreth says hello to you," he informed Moira with a smile; though the bronze hadn't said it next he knew it would be the next thing on his lifemate's mind. A sudden cheep from just behind his right ear prompted C'mor to turn his head in time to see Gilden calculating her landing. "Gilden says hi too," he added with a grin as the flitt dropped neatly onto his shoulder and nuzzled his cheek; she'd missed him! She'd been hunting tunnel snakes for the little blue one!

Moira turned her head to see what C'mor was talking about, and- oh. Oh my that was a big dragon.

If anything could catch and keep Moira's fickle attention, it was a dragon. The creatures fascinated her, piqued her ever present curiosity; greens as much as golds. Like people, the outward appearance of a dragons was something Moira paid little attention to when it came to forming an opinion of them. The size and stamina of golds and bronzes was equally matched for interest by the speed and grace of the green and blues as far as she was concerned. Her mother had drilled Weyr tradition into her head with such frequency that Moira understood the color hierarchy long before she'd been searched, but she saw no reason to pay less heed to an elegant green than she might to a regal bronze.

That peculiar tilt of her head returned as Paran approached. How.. peculiar he was. However, when he inquired about the flit, she assumed it was the presence of something gold that had drawn his attention. Was he like so many other candidates, then? Obsessed by the color of dragon and flit alike? Judgment tempted Moira, but she held her final ruling. It was far too early to make such an assumption. Perhaps the boy was just being friendly.

Moira observed Naedreth for a long moment before he touched down. However, the moment C'mor relayed the greeting, she took off like a lightning bolt. Her short legs could not carry her quickly, but it didn't take long to close the space between the small group and the bronze. Moira, much like a five year old standing in front of a toy store, stared up at Naedreth with wide green eyes and furrowed brows. Her expression was utterly serious, but her joy was evident in the single word she spoke.

“Awesome.”

"Really... That was lucky, to score such a beauty for so little." Paran gave the man a winning smile, disguising his dismay at the fact that the girl would rather gawk at the big Bronze than stay put long enough to say hello. The dragon was stunning, but really! Well, alright, the dragon was stunning. "Naedreth, did you say?" he commented, giving the dragon a rather long look. After all, if the lady- he'd need to figure out names at some point- was going to pay attention, he should as well. It was only polite, and maybe it would give him something he could talk about with her. Eventually. Assuming she stayed still long enough.

"Hello, Naedreth," he said, turning the same winning look on the dragon. "How brilliant! You have exceptional coloring." Compliments were good. Compliments toward dragons tended to please riders, after all. "It's a pleasure to meet you... And you both as well...?" He paused, clearly expecting them to provide names. His dark eyes flickered between them expectantly, and he tossed his head, flicking a golden-brown curl out of his dark eyes.