Welcome to Gaia! ::

“You look new,“ a gangly, not-yet-tall youth commented from the seaman’s left. Viskal, a leatherworking apprentice from an outlying a weyr, sat with his back against the wall near the entryway, looking up from his work with dark, curious eyes. He’d brought his work tools with him and sat sharpening them in the sun. In truth he’d come to rest from his chores and observe dragons in flight. They passed by every now and them, allowing him to observe the range of motion of their wings and necks. It was the saddles he was interested, how and where they fastened, but he was nearly bored with the slow study. The older candidate’s presence was a welcome distraction. “Or at least a little lost.”

Viskal imagined that with a tilt of his head, wondering if the ship had been large enough to accommodate the dragon or if it had hovered and harried the boat. Either way, he imagined it had alarmed the crew and smiled very slightly. “I’m Viskal, and I’m fairly new myself – only been here a few days, but word travels fast, especially in the barracks when the boys suddenly run out of work. They’ll talk then and say anything, true or not. For certain though, there are two clutches on the sands. They say one of the clutches has a gold in, but I haven’t seen.” His voice in warning skepticism. He started putting away his tools while his spoke, not interested in honing the wicked blades any longer. His tone of voice, however, suddenly picked up in sharpness as the blades and tools disappeared. “Also certain is that a few days ago, Benden Weyr sent an invasion of healers and riders motive. Lots of guesses as to why. I say there have been too many of their people lurking around the sands.” He stood then, meeting Kyros’s eye with a forward, cold look at his last statement. He seemed to be withdrawn despite looking out, as if he were looking through the older Candidate to cause of his own dissatisfaction. The tense moment ended as he shifted and rested his hand on his belt. “In short, things are a mess. There’s no guide to this sort of thing though.”

“Fairly frantic with work,” Viskal admitted. “Whatever craft you are, you’d best say so from the beginning. Odds are they’ll stick you with something you know. Otherwise it’s general chores and you’ll be peeling tubers and turning glows all day.” He paused for a moment and delved back into their last topic. Work didn’t make for interesting discussions, and Kyros’s questions would be put to rest when they first started ordering him about. “They say that Crimson is rather hostile over her clutch, you know. She’s been chasing Benden’s healers off like wherries.”

Viskal shrugged at the notion. He knew crimsons were less likely to clutch, but he’d been quicker to assume the dragon’s crankiness was due to the Benden invasion. Perhaps, he thought, he was just being paranoid. The thought was too dear to shake though, and he was too sure something was amiss to dismiss the idea as paranoid. He might have been an isolationist to the point where he rarely felt himself as part as societal groups, but maybe that’s what made conspiracy seem so realistic to him.

“Guessing what they’re really here to achieve is the thing that has everyone going,” he said with a solemn nod. “I’m just some candidate saying this, but I’d advise keeping an eye and ear on the healers and the Benden riders.” He raised an eyebrow full of intrigue and gave a curt nod. “I have to be off now – a few evening duties to attend to. Take care of yourself.” He turned for the doorway after the brief farewell. Kyros seemed a decent fellow, and he didn’t like having spread such ugly rumors on the day he’d arrived, but it was better to be aware than taken advantage of.