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 Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2009 8:14 pm
Dashias was momentarily free from mindless candidate tasks. As such, he was sitting on his cot thinking what move he should make next. He could go the Weyr's head woman and see there was anything that needed scribing or he could head down to the local candidate hang outs and see if he could catch the attention of a dragon or he could just sit there.
The young harper sighed. If this was what it was like to have free time, he might have to create himself some mischief. Nothing as spectacular as the caprine incident, he chuckled at that one, nor nothing as boring as simply switching shoes around. What could he do? A sharp chin rested comfortably between knees as Dashias thought about his lot in life. It wasn't a bad one. He had a talent and apparently had something that made dragons keen on him but what was he doing really?
The teen was so caught up in thought that he did not realize one of his cot mates had walked in.
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Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2009 8:37 pm
Bashir had been in better moods. Fortunately, he was not the sort of person to stay in a bad mood long, and so by the time he reached the candidate dormitory he was mostly out of it. His grandfather had been feeling the cold lately and it made him snappish. When his grandfather got snappish, he was a misery to be around. And Rath hadn't been much better, though he was usually pleasant enough to work with. The dragon claimed to be feeling old and he wasn't in the mood to play pretend dragonrider with his rider's grandson. To be fair, Bashir hadn't particularly felt like playing pretend dragonrider with his grandfather's dragon, either, but he'd done it. And it had been cold. Bashir didn't mind the cold as much as his grandfather, but no one really enjoyed spending hours outside practicing flight in the even colder sky. At least it hadn't snowed on him, he supposed.
"Good afternoon," he greeted Dashias as he came into the dormitory. Very little of his mood was now evident except perhaps in the tension in his muscles. A hot bath later on would do something for that, he hoped. "How are things with you?"
He liked Dashias well enough. The young man had an unfortunate habit of playing pranks, but Bashir was mostly able to ignore that. The caprine, of course, had been impossible to ignore, but otherwise it was minor stuff. Not worth telling anyone about, really, though they could be annoying at times. But when he wasn't playing tricks, Bashir could appreciate Dashias' sense of humor and generally quiet manner. It was a nice change from his grandfather's bellowing or his father's snarking.
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Princess_Feylin Vice Captain
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Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2009 9:05 pm
"Oh, eh?" He looked up from his roving thoughts to see Bashir come in. Now there was a candidate who looked like he had the weight of Pern on his shoulders. Dashias gave him a grin and wave. Perking up at the sight of company, the candidate opened his mouth and then closed it again.
Then he opened it again and started up again. "Things are good with me. Nice to have a chance to breathe before being assigned some other random, meaningless task."
He knew that Bashir's grandfather was a dragon rider who expected his grandson to Impress. And he knew that Bashir was older than him and had been standing for a while but what did he really know about the boy who shared quarters with him. "So... Busy today?"
Ah... For one deemed a harper, he was rather lacking words today.
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Posted: Sun Oct 04, 2009 5:44 am
"They're not meaningless," Bashir replied automatically, though he knew for a fact that a good number of the tasks candidates were given could have been performed by drudges if the Weyr were so inclined. He recanted, unsmiling: "Yes they are. But we candidates aren't supposed to figure that out."
As he spoke, Bashir stripped off his riding leathers. They had been his grandfather's when he was young, though his father had used them, too. The leather was worn so smooth it felt like butter and darkened significantly by three generations of use. It was the frequent use that kept it from cracking in spite of the cold, the tanner told Bashir when he'd made alterations to the leathers to make them a suitable size. The tanner had also pointed out that Bashir would do well to wear something warm under them if he planned to fly, as they were wearing thin. Bashir always did this, because it was simply unbearable otherwise.
"Busy? Not particularly." Another statement that probably should have been uttered with a grin, but coming from Bashir the only grin present was implied in his tone. "Was there something you had in mind for the afternoon?"
As long as it wasn't going to break the rules, Bashir had no problem taking part in whatever activities others might propose. He could be creative, but in a family where creativity was not appreciated in the slightest he had learned quickly not to display it around his family. Even two turns after he moved into the candidate dormitories, that instinct remained strong enough to prevent him from being the instigator of any candidate activities. He had risen very early to do his chores before going to work with his father and grandfather and Rath, so his afternoon was free. As was his evening, though he tended to go to sleep early to compensate for his early rising.
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Princess_Feylin Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Oct 04, 2009 7:05 pm
"Unfortunately, it is my mind I am trying to get away from. Idle time and idle hands... Though idle hands might be better than idle thoughts." Dashias looked down at his hands and gave them a grim look. His hands were what had gotten him where he was in life, he supposed. If he didn't have such a steady hand and neat writing, he never would have gone to the hall.
"Isn't it strange what helps us earn our lot in life?" He scribe pondered out loud. He watched the other boy with a curious air and tried to think of what there was to do in High Reaches. However, only just arrived to the Weyr, he had not yet learned the layout. With a cold, stiff breeze blowing, the thought of heavily sweetened klah already had his belly warming. "How about we make our way to the kitchens?"
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Posted: Sun Oct 04, 2009 7:42 pm
Bashir could understand what Dashias meant when he said he was trying to get way from his mind. He had that problem sometimes, though in his case it was usually that his mind had gotten away from him. The distinction might seem obvious, but the result was similar: a lack of control over one's own thoughts, and thoughts one didn't mean or want to think. His grandfather called it woolgathering. In a very disdainful tone of voice that made it clear he didn't approve, and Bashir didn't like to earn his grandfather's disapproval because it meant Rath would also disapprove, and he liked Rath too much to want to have the old brown disapprove of him.
"Is there something wrong?" Bashir asked as he pulled off his sweat-soaked shirt. It never failed to amaze him that he could be practically frozen and still sweating after training sessions. He probably didn't smell so great, but his bath could wait. It was of infinitely greater importance to him that any problem Dashias might have be dealt with, if it could be. "I'm not bad at solving problems, if you have one."
Of course, he could be prying. Maybe Dashias was just bored, and one of those people who hated inactivity. Bashir never really allowed himself to get bored, but that was a direct result of his own dislike of being idle. Well, if he was prying, Dashias would just have to tell him to mind his own business. He was Harper-trained, Bashir thought, and that should lend itself well to expressing oneself. He squirmed into a clean top and shifted to a position where he could shuck off his trousers and shimmy into a clean pair without exposing himself to Dashias.
"And I can't say I've ever given it much thought. I have no craft, after all. My lot in life is what it is because I was born my grandfather's grandson." He paused and added, "I'm not complaining. I like my life."
As if in answer to Dashias' question, Bashir's stomach growled. He was always hungry, but usually particularly so after training. All that activity and all those calories burned. "The kitchens sounds like a good place to go. Just let me get my boots on."
After a brief hunt for his boots that ended with him hopping about un-self-consciously while jamming his left foot into a brown boot with suspicious stains that might have been blood from hacking up meats to feed to Rath. Or it could have been something else. Bashir didn't really care to think about it. The boots were functional, and that was all he required of them. That, and they kept his feet warm.
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Princess_Feylin Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Oct 05, 2009 10:24 am
Still dressed, Dashias did grab a cloak to stave off the stiff breeze. He wondered what the Ancients were thinking when they settled in such a chilly place but then thought about the spring time beauty. High Telgar could be a wonderful place with some pleasant people.
"Not really wrong, no. More of thinking about what to do with my time when I have time. Food is a good option but one can only eat so much. I was actually planning on pranking our cot mates but have yet to think of anything suitable. So you have been forewarned." The teen smirked. He watched Bashir get changed and realized that the other boy might have liked a wash. Today, his chores had all be inside and nothing to foul, so he wouldn't need to wash right away. And besides that, he found the best time to go to the washrooms was later at night, just after the late changing of the watch dragon.
"It occasionally sneaks up on me. I am a Harper but I don't sing. I scribe, I take notes, I archive things and put them in order. For all of that, I need my hands. And with nothing to do, they are idle. So do I do them justice by taking up my craft while I am here or do I learn to do something more? I guess it comes down to duty in a way." A harper harping on his place in life. Surely there was irony in that? "My mother and father are Harpers. My younger brother is a harper, I am pretty sure my grandparents were Harpers as well. What happens if I don't end up being a Harper? Of course, it must be tough for you as well. What happens if you don't Impress?"
He stood after Bashir put his boots on and waited. Dashias was still not sure of his way to the kitchens. The caverns and hallways were full of twists and turns that could easily get one with no sense of direction lost.
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Posted: Mon Oct 05, 2009 10:49 am
"I appreciate the warning," Bashir said in a wry tone. "And I will be wary, just in case you get bored later on today and I'm not about to keep you otherwise occupied. But if you're looking for ways to occupy yourself, you could probably help out in the larder with tallying tithes and such."
He shrugged. Personally, Bashir hadn't much of a head for numbers. He could do basic maths, which was all accounting required, but he'd managed to avoid ever having to put them to any actual use. It wasn't as though he had much need for figuring, except when he was working with the tanner on straps for Rath or listening to his grandfather talk about the work involved in weavercraft. Bashir was very glad he didn't have to live the life of a weaver. It sounded dull, and lacking in variety. There was lots of variety in the life of a candidate at a Weyr, and as a dragonrider.
"My grandfather's family in Igen was like that about weaving. I'm glad he decided to come north and spare me that life. But however did you end up at High Reaches? Not that I'm not glad you're here, but it seems a far cry from Harpering." He knew how Searches worked, naturally, but everyone's story was different with Searches and he liked to hear them. He would never be Searched, since he was born and raised at High Reaches. He was also curious because Harper Hall was at Fort, and it wasn't likely a Searchrider would have been sent outside of High Reaches' jurisdiction.
"It's not tough, really. There's hard work, but that comes with any sort of profession. I'm actually fortunate that my grandfather and Rath are willing to train me. I get to spend more time with dragons than any other candidate in the Weyr, almost, and I've got a lot of practical experience with the realities of dragonriding." That much he had been saying for a long time whenever he was asked if he wasn't under too much pressure. There was pressure to succeed and Impress, of course, but how could he be pressured? Impression was up to the dragons, and nothing he could do would force it, so there wasn't really much pressure on him.
"If I don't Impress, I suppose I better have a son quickly so that my grandfather can train him up to be a dragonrider," Bashir answered in a joking tone.
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Princess_Feylin Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Oct 06, 2009 8:34 pm
Now there was an idea! He enjoyed maths and keeping records. And if he stayed on at the weyr and helped with the tithe records, then he would have a suitable place in life. Immensely cheered by this idea, he watched and waited for Bashir to head to the kitchens first. After all, the boy was born and raised in High Reaches. "If you could be so kind to lead the way??"
Dashias was not above asking for help to get what he wanted. Why should he be as long as he found success in getting what was needed done. He listened politely and then grinned. "My older sister is a weaver. She can do the most amazing patterns. As for being Searched, it was quite by accident. A green from here was at the Hall delivering a message or whatever gets done when I stepped forward to look at his dragon. And the dragon looked back."
HE thought back to that day with a touch of amusement. Dashias wasn't sure who had been more surprised at the contact, him or the dragon. "Maybe you know them? B'renal and green Noveeth?" Dashias took in what Bashir said about Impressing and spending so much time around a dragon who was almost like family. Maybe it would give Bashir a better chance at meeting his match... The other option, while abet it could be a lot of fun, seemed like a lot of pressure.
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Posted: Wed Oct 07, 2009 7:13 am
"I think I've begun to do so already," Bashir replied. Most people would have accompanied this statement with a grin or a raised eyebrow, but Bashir had learned that such expressions never looked convincing when he made them because he had to constantly think about what expression would be appropriate to the situation, which meant they tended to form on his face late and look farcical. He let his tone of voice convey his humorous intent.
"I'm afraid my entire family suffers from a lack of creativity. I've seen some of the things my grandfather wove when he was still in the craft - mostly small rugs. And they're technically perfect, but they lack a certain...something. I doubt he would ever have made it to a master's status." Bashir supposed he ought to feel disloyal speaking that way about his grandfather. If A'ram knew he'd said that, he would be irate, but Bashir doubted Dashias would run into the old man any time soon.
"B'renal and Noveeth," Bashir repeated. He thought the names sounded familiar, but he wasn't sure he could match faces to them. "I don't think we're acquainted."
He wondered if the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman could recall the names and faces and dragons of every person in the Weyr. Probably not. They were only human, though they had their bondmates to help. Maybe the dragons kept track of the dragons and the humans kept track of the humans? But that was still a lot of people to recognize, particularly if you take kitchen workers and candidates into consideration. But then, he was forgetting the Headwoman. It was her job to keep track of the workers. And the Candidatemaster kept track of the candidates. So...maybe not such an impossible task.
"It must be a wonderful feeling to be explicitly told that someone's dragon thinks you stand a chance at Impression." There was only a hint of wistfulness as Bashir said this. He knew being Searched didn't guarantee Impression anymore than growing up in the Weyr did, but the assurance that one dragon, at least, thought he was worthy would be nice to have.
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Princess_Feylin Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Oct 08, 2009 6:36 pm
Dashias followed Bashir through the maze that was High Reaches. Thank goodness candidate quarters were near the ground. Though he supposed that curbside service was one of the advantages of being Impressed when quartered so high up. "I guess weaving could be considered art in some ways, so you would need creativity for sure. I know my sister would go on and on about colors and other stuff way above my head. But then again, if I started talking about dates and numbers to her, she would just roll her eyes at me."
His steps were fairly light and didn't echo of the walls like some of the others. Dashias's eyes adjusted quickly though the glows kept everything fairly bright. Of course, if he got assigned to glow duty again, he might very well get to know High Reaches a lot faster. Both were quick for a little while before Bashir started speaking again. "Well... It was interesting because she spoke directly in my head. Kinda like a whooshing feeling and then she was gone. But you get to be around a dragon all the time! That must be interesting, never a dull moment right?"
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Posted: Thu Oct 08, 2009 6:59 pm
Bashir never really gave much thought to weaving as an art. It was a necessary service, like mining or dragonriding, but in his experience markedly less pleasurable than dragonriding. And, personally, Bashir was certain he, too, would roll his eyes if Dashias started talking about dates and numbers. Those sorts of things were not his concern, but those of higher authorities. Weyrleaders, Wingleaders, and similar positions would require that sort of knowledge. Simply being a candidate required the ability to follow orders and not screw up. Bashir was fairly good at both.
As they reached the kitchen Dashias spoke about Noveeth speaking in his head. That was something Bashir was familiar with. Rath was a very proper old dragon, but he had been forced to admit long before Bashir was born that the only effective way to train a rider was to speak directly to that rider, rather than go through A'ram. By the time Bashir was born and old enough to train with the brown dragon, Rath was no longer uncomfortable with the idea of speaking to his bondmate's descendants, though he would never think of addressing a stranger.
"I suppose it's interesting. But it sort of becomes routine after a few turns. Remember how I mentioned that my grandfather lacks creativity? He and Rath are pretty much the same person, split into two bodies. There's lots of routine and repetition working with them." He hastened to add, "But that's good. It means that I learn good habits."
He wondered if Dashias was trying to subtly hint that he'd like to have the opportunity to work with Rath and decided that whether he was or wasn't, he would pretend not to have noticed. When he was much younger he'd asked once if one of his friends might join him in practice and not only had Rath and A'ram taken umbrage, but Bashir's father had been furious, too. Apparently it was a special privilege granted only to family members. He had never brought the subject up again, and he had told his friend it was impossible. That had ended their friendship.
"Here we are. If we look particularly hungry and pathetic we might get to taste test."
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Princess_Feylin Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Oct 08, 2009 7:22 pm
Of course, if Dashias had realized that Bashir thought him trying to take advantage of their acquaintanceship, he would have apologized on the spot. It was really in his nature to take advantage of a situation unless it came down to food. He was, after all, still a growing teenager. Taking his cue from Bashir, Dashias tried to make himself look as pitiful as possible. He didn't set his hopes on something as good as a bubbly pie but maybe a fruit tart or fresh rolls?
"Do you think it's like that for everyone? That the dragon is like the human?" Dashias asked as he sat down and looked about. In the kitchens at his old Hall, there was simple stuff like bread and soup available all day. Things like fish or herd beast was for the evening meals and special occasions. Sometimes, there were citrus and red fruit but it was a very rare treat indeed. "If I were a dragon, I wonder what color I would be... Have you ever thought about that?"
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Posted: Fri Oct 09, 2009 6:17 am
For Bashir, looking pathetic and hungry was a challenge, considering how much work it took him to evince any emotion effectively. But the people who had worked in the kitchens for a long time knew what his mornings were typically like - some of them even remembered how his father's mornings had been until he was twenty one - and they were usually willing to give him something to tide him over until there was a scheduled meal. He worked this by upping his stoicism to the maximum and then being exceedingly polite as he asked if there might be something for him to eat. This time he came away with half a loaf of bread - misshapen but still warm - and a much-cherished redfruit. His thanks were sincere.
Halfway through the loaf of bread he'd been demolishing, Bashir paused to swallow and answer Dashias' first question. "Oh, no. There are lots of instances where dragons seem to be their riders' polar opposites. These are said to complete their rider, I believe. A'ram and Rath are neither of them the sort to appreciate a bondmate who's so different. It's fortunate they found each other, so that neither really had to leave their comfort zone."
He went back to devouring the half loaf of bread, washing it down with an occasional gulp of icy water. At least that was always in ready supply at the Weyr. Bashir preferred water and fruit juice to any other kind of drink, though he had been known to partake at post-hatching feasts. He always did so in moderation. When the bread was nearly gone, he held his redfruit gingerly to avoid bruising it and turned his attention to Dashias' other question.
"What color dragon you would be? Never," Bashir joked. "But off the cuff, I'd say I'd probably end up as a blue or a particularly thick-skulled brown. What about you?"
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Princess_Feylin Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Oct 09, 2009 9:41 pm
"With Hatching so soon, I can't wait to see whom gets matched with who... Though I must admit, outside of our lessons, you are the first person I have really talked to... Not that I don't like talking but we are kept so busy." Dashias managed to snag another roll for himself. There was no actual stew today but a thicker soup which he promptly dunked his roll into. There was envy on his face when Bashir got the red fruit. Oh well. There would be more.
"I never thought of dragons having comfort zones." He looked thoughtful at this and then laughed. "Should I weave a tale and pretend that I would look best as a bronze? I think not. More like a brown. Content with his lot in life and happily plodding down the path. Willing to sidestep when there is a tunnel snake in the path."
This soup, made with tubers and some sort of wherry stock, warmed him down to his bones. "I think Bashireth, you would make a fine dragon." He chuckled at his own joke, not really expecting his companion to laugh now that he had gotten a feel for him.
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