Welcome to Gaia! ::

V’al blinked as he stepped into the sun and, groaning under his breath, stretched his arms out in front of him. Except for the kink he’d gotten in his shoulders from spending the better part of the morning oiling Lerath, he’d come out better for the cleaning. After stretching, he held up his right hand and rubbed the thin gleam of oil into in rough palm. Weeks ago, on orders, he had Lerath had Timed It, in search of grubs and mystweed from the past. Unfortunately, they had appeared in the middle of threadfall, and the resulting scarring in his hand and up his arm grew stiff without oils and salves, bad enough to make him worry about the usage of it. It was no lovely badge of valor that attracted women either, and as he walked across the open ground between the buildings he pulled out a thin glove that had been hanging on his belt and slid it over his marred hand. It overlapped his sleeve, hiding the scarring entirely, though as he wriggled his fingers into the holes his stepped slowed and he came to a stop not far from where a long-haired candidate was digging her way into a fish. He had the impression that despite her fair face and somewhat unskilled movements with the knife that she wasn’t actually much younger than himself. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of that, but he nodded in greeting to her and offered a faint smile that rang of sympathy. “I don’t think I recognize you, but if you’re new like I’m guessing, you’re better at that than I was.” Once, he might not have said anything to the young woman out of disinterest, but he knew Lerath would be curious about a new Candidate, and he had no qualms about interrupting her tedious work.

V’al glanced at the mutilated fish and decided not to critique. She’d obviously gotten better, and either a wher or one of those sharding flits would appreciate the botched job. At least she knew better than to slip the bad ones in under the properly cleaned fish. Having been a Candidate himself not so very long ago, he remembered a number of ways some chose to slack their work. “Vulcanology, eh? It always seemed a strange calling,” he admitted, arching a brow. “I’m V’al. My, blue, Lerath, is lounging somewhere and asked me to tell you hello for him.”

I did? asked his bonded in a bemused, sun-soaked tone.

You always ask me about the Candidates, so I thought I’d get ahead of you, V’al responded silently, but was cut off when Siano’s knife slipped. He frowned and leaned forward to look at the cut. “You should be more careful,” he said pointedly. “You’ll have fish juice in that now. If we don’t get it cleaned it’ll get infected.” He straightened and glanced away, thinking of the route to the healer’s area. “My weyr has a few things that would take care of it and it’s closer than the healers’, but I’ll take you across to their building if you’d rather.”

“Don’t apologize – you haven’t slighted me,” V’al answered distracted, and touched Siano’s shoulder to point her in the right direction. “Just watch your hands next time.” He pondered that for a moment as they walked. “And that’s not bad advice for when you have your chance to Stand either. Hatchlings aren’t very gentle before they Impress, so you’d do well to stay out of reach of their claws.”