farsing
Fresh Meat
[M:15]
Posts: 10
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Post by farsing on Aug 9, 2011 19:30:22 GMT -5
01.17.3189 Sharding riders. To say Clautiv was in a foul mood would be an understatement, although he was so regularly in foul moods that it seems near normal for him to have that scowl slapped right on his face. He had been working in one of the craft rooms fashioning bucketfuls of buckles, buckles that would be used on riding straps to keep men and women safely situated on their dragons while in flight. They were delicate pieces, and incredibly important ones. Clautiv took some pride in knowing his handiwork created such vital bits, but any pride that may have filled his chest soon became smothered by the fact that he was aptly overlooked by every sharding person. No one thought where their buckles came from, no one wanted to think about that. Clautiv had been cleaning up, tossing the few finished pieces into the wooden bucket that held the batch before beginning to put his tools away and wipe down the area. He may not be cheery, but he didn't slack away to disorder simply because of his mood. He was reliable, he could safely claim that much. He was reliable enough to do his job and get it done. He didn't rush, he spent precious time on each piece, pouring out his frustration into each act. Clautiv was reliable, unlike the citizens of this Weyr. His mind had been made up a while ago about dragonriders. They were a selfish lot. Sure, Harper songs play that out differently, they're heroes of the sky fighting off Pern's oldest enemy and saving Holdfolk in every land. No Harper tales told of their arrogance, their large sharding heads or their incessant preening that they did. Don't they find being bonded to a dragon well enough? Apparently not. Clautiv still struggled to swallow down the fact he had been stationed at a Weyr. At least I'm working.That was one sliver he could still hang on to. The MasterSmith at Telgar may have put him in the one place he desired least, but he could still do his job. Smithing eased him into a state of comfort, he was able to forget what was going on around him and focus on the task at hand, going into a tunnel-vision like state and ignoring any outside activity. Now that that was done Clautiv found himself restless. It was mid-afternoon, and he had skipped out on a lunchtime meal. His stomach responded to this brief thought with a low 'ggrrrmmph'. A cup of klah would have to suffice for a bit. After straightening up a bit more, Clautiv found himself with nothing else to do aside from that klah bit. The young man stepped into the hallway, shivering slightly at the sudden drop in temperature in comparison to the room he had just been in. Smithing rooms had always been muggy, even sweltering, enough to make Clautiv forget that it was winter. Clautiv had never been fond of cold weather, and it certainly didn't help that it wasn't just winter right now, it was a sharding blizzard. At once he regretted the thin fabric of the long tunic he wore, and that the sleeves had once been torn off turns ago. Clautiv folded his arms and moved forth, crossing the hallway and entering the living caverns that run parallel to the crafting rooms. Clautiv didn't waste time in moving towards the klah, pouring himself a warm mug of it and pausing before one of the great furnaces to soak up the heat coming off of it. Warmth. Clautiv closed his eyes, allowing a moment of comfort. He still found some peace in warmth.
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Post by Sher on Aug 9, 2011 23:40:19 GMT -5
J'ain had been finishing up a quick meal consisting mostly of vegetables, since her blue had gone hunting recently enough that she could still taste the phantom remnants of the raw fluids in her own mouth. They'd both been all but frozen when the blizzard had finally abated enough for them to return to the Weyr; judging by the faint howling of the wind that was audible even here, over the light buzz of conversations and the clank of utensils against plates, it was picking up again. Ansith was in the process of grumbling about the vegetables, teasing really. You could at least wait until I'm asleep, you know.[/i]
The middle-aged woman rolled her dark brown eyes, knowing he could tell when she did. By the way some other riders talked of their own bonds, neither of the bluepair had a clue as to why theirs had developed so strongly. Perhaps because they'd never been distracted much by the intrigues some of the others seemed to thrive on? Whatever the cause, the affectionate ribbing was almost constant between them most days. You know, humans have to eat much more frequently than dragons, she said, for what felt like the thousandth time.
Design flaw![/i]
Humans weren't designed, she scoffed, even as she got up to hand the dirty plate off to a passing drudge with murmured thanks. Her mug was empty, but that would soon be remedied. She spotted a young man standing by the nearest hearth, one who was not dressed for the weather. Since she'd have to pass near him anyway- or detour to the other end of the cavern, which was pointless- she sidled right up to him and said casually, "How's the winter treating you?" J'ain gestured idly to his insufficient garb with her Thread-scarred arm before taking a long swallow of klah. And promptly cursed under her breath. ("Shards! Hot!") Well, what had she expected?
Ansith had fallen silent, but he was not asleep. There was a 'listening' sense from his end of the bond that J'ain thought she recognized. Oh, lovely.
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farsing
Fresh Meat
[M:15]
Posts: 10
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Post by farsing on Aug 11, 2011 11:39:19 GMT -5
The slight prickle of hairs along the back of his neck was the only premonition to the individual who was drawing near. Clautiv only brushed it off as a symptom of the cold weather. There was a slight moment of surprise when the voice spoke up next to him, his reaction shown in the slight widening of his eyes and the careful tick of one eyebrow upwards. Well, he hadn't expected someone being so forward. Absently he reprimanded himself for not being more on guard as he looked down at his own clothing that the individual gestured to, catching a glimpse of the burned arm from his peripherals. "S'cold. Winters never been m'favorite." There was a lingering scowl settled on his lips before he looked back towards the woman.
The scowl dissolved as he looked at her fully, a small smile curling onto his lips. There was no reason to be brutish to anyone here yet, especially if they were just trying to instigate in some casual conversation.
Wait. Was that burn Threadscore?
Clautiv swallowed thickly against the sudden knot of rage that tightened in his throat. She's done nothing. No, the correct phrase was that she's done nothing yet. So it could be deduced that this woman was a dragonrider, not everyone had Threadscore. How fantastic that this woman was one of the individuals that he has such a bitter grudge towards. Were they all always so outgoing? Simply waltzing up to whoever they please and brutishly pushing into some form of conversation? Okay, perhaps Clautiv was looking for an excuse to be short with the woman. Something deep within his gut pulled together, hardening into a tight stone. No, he couldn't be rude, he would have to deal with what was at hand. He didn't come this far simply to be kicked out of his job for being disrespectful to those of higher rank.
This assessment happened in nothing more than a moment, and Clautiv pressed on with conversation.
"I work in warm atmospheres, and overdressing for 'em would be far worse than dealin' with some cold." Cold was an understatement. This was a sharding blizzard. "Granted, I haven't dealt with this kind of cold before."
And so it begun, Clautiv started to slide into an amiable persona to suit the person he was around. This was easier, changing who he was outwardly to put those around him at a state of ease. People had a tendency to be a bit more open when they relaxed, and how else would Clautiv gain any information on this place otherwise? He took another drink of his klah, swishing it around in his mouth a bit before swallowing, relishing the warm sensation of it running down his throat. He turned his gaze back to the fire from a moment, exhaling deeply. "I've never mixed well with snow of any sort."
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Post by Sher on Aug 11, 2011 13:45:52 GMT -5
J'ain was oblivious to his physical signals, since she wasn't directly looking at him, and of course had no idea what was going on behind those blue eyes. But his words stole her attention more soundly than she'd planned. Then she stood there, mouth agape, her klah held in both hands halfway to her lips for another swallow as she stared directly at him. She shut her mouth, but a corner of her lip twitched. He wasn't... serious, was he?
He's serious,[/i] Ansith said. I think.[/i] Oh, yes, he was definitely listening in.
The bluerider carefully lowered her klah, shoulders trembling with tremors of tightly contained merriment. "You really mustn't be used to cold weather," she managed to choke out, her own dark brown eyes starting to glaze over with moisture, the next phrases punctuated by strangled giggles. "I'm sorry, but didn't... didn't it occur to you... to get a coat?" She demonstrated with another bout of helpless mirth, shrugging off the shoulder of her own wherhide jacket to display the sweater beneath. J'ain finally seemed to master her jollity and struggled to smooth her face. "Son, if you don't have a jacket yet, you should make a point to go be fitted for one. You don't have to wear it while you work."
Whatever that work was. Smithing, probably. The man was shaped sort of the same as the master stonesmith that was working to finish the Weyr off, but Primbel didn't have all those burn marks on his arms. The bluerider shook her head and gulped another bit of klah, too wrapped up in the idea of someone being that unprepared to mind that the hot fluid was about to melt her throat on the way down. "You haven't been here long," J'ain said. It wasn't a question.
His mind smells like... Ansith started suddenly, but the words faded away as he 'leaned back' from his mindmate. She could tell something was going on in that pale blue head, and thought she had an idea what it was. Ansith wasn't sharing his speculations for the moment, though.
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farsing
Fresh Meat
[M:15]
Posts: 10
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Post by farsing on Aug 11, 2011 14:27:04 GMT -5
Clautiv almost immediately felt his ears flush red when the dragonrider started talking again. Although he should've known better than to say something like that he was downright brimming inside with fury. Laughing at you, she's laughing at you. He clenched his jaw for a moment, working through that distress and smirking. Turn to steel. He reflexively fought off the wave of anger, doing his best to come across as the newly transplanted crafter who didn't know any better. It would be easier that way if questions would asked, he could just say that he was unprepared, not loathing the fact that he was transferred to a Weyr for his Journeymanship. It was a smidge harder to contain his composure when the woman had started to giggle.
"I've never had to use 'em before." He nodded to her coat, shrugging a bit as he did so. "Metals make you hot, and if you get too warm you get distracted." He lifted up his hand as if punctuating that with the burns there. "Distractions aren't fun, but it makes you wary of what not to do." Clearly he was in a different environment, and he nodded at her suggestion. "A jacket might be good, especially if I need to go outside at all." There was a grimace on his features for a moment. It wasn't bad enough that he landed at a Weyr, but it was deep winter.
He didn't like the cold. Which was why he worked with metals. Sure, metal itself was cold, but Clautiv made things, he created. There was warmth in creation.
She was judging him, and that made his nerves singe through his chest as it lit up with a ball of contempt. Still. Still as steel. He shrugged at her statement, nodding a bit. "You're right on that point. Haven't been here long at all, but I've been plenty busy." Plenty busy was an understatement, he had been nearly secluded to the craft rooms, although that was partially due to his general dislike of most of the folk around and his best to try and avoid confrontations like this. He could confront when he knew more. This, this was a section of information gathering. He would seep up his surroundings like a sponge and find a way to worm in and make it his own. He hadn't planned on being ridiculed so early on in his plans.
"I was at Telgar." He took another drink of his klah, apparently unaffected by how hot the brew was. "Before here, that is. Reassigned here for Smithing, Metalsmithing in particular." He grinned, sliding into a more amiable personality smoothly. "And apparently the turns in metals have left me with no manners. I'm Clautiv, Journeyman Smith of the Smithhall in Telgar." He dipped his head in a small bow. He knew she was a rider of some sort, and perhaps if he had thought to be more brash he would've spoken up, but instead he kept quiet. Let her introduce herself, most riders usually got a kick out of that, right?
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Post by Sher on Aug 11, 2011 16:20:27 GMT -5
"Hey! Funny coincidence, our goldrider came from Telgar Weyr. Maybe you'd recognize her." Now that J'ain had subsided from being giddy, she eyed Clautiv curiously. There had been a constant influx of people sent to Sunset Weyr for various reasons, but there was something indefinable about this one. It wasn't that she was able to see through his front; as insensitive as the bluerider was by nature, it never even occurred to her that her words and laughter might have been offensive. Since she wasn't looking for signs of affront, she was easily misled by the easy manner he projected.
She was almost certain that Ansith was going to Search him. ('Smelling minds,' as her dragon put it, was not something he regularly indulged in.) But if so, why all the secretiveness about it?
Ansith didn't answer the indirect query that had crossed her mind, and the woman gave a mental shrug. Her deeper-than-average voice settled into a cheerful tone. "Well, living here, you'll certainly have occasion to get used to coats and layers. I visited Ista Island once and just about got knocked off of Ansith- that's my blue, and I'm J'ain by the way, speaking of manners!- and it was so sharding hot." Her meandering concluded with a smartly performed rider's salute, the formality after her utterly informal ramble more than just slightly incongruous and at odds with her cheeky grin.
"It's good to have a metalsmith around, journeyman," she added equably. "Some of the riders know a bit of smith work, I mean, not all of 'em come from a farming background like me. But it's hard to make time for tradeskills when you're linked to a blob of a blue that can't scratch his own rump without help."
That brought Ansith out of his reverie, with a mock snarl as he sat up on his weyr ledge. (Cold or not, he enjoyed watching folks moving around the Weyrbowl.) I can too scratch my own rump,[/i] he spluttered indignantly, the words spilling over into both humans' minds. He realized what he'd done several moments later, as he 'felt' J'ain's sides heaving in a snort of laughter again. Typical. Are you going to tell him to Stand or not?[/i] the dragon added, pretending to be vexed.
Now that I'm certain you wanted him told! the bluerider replied. She swigged down the last of her klah rapidly, making what should have taken several more swallows into a rather unbecoming guzzle. She at least had the grace to cover her mouth with her hand before a hearty belch rolled up out of her gut and blasted out her nose. "Excuse me," she said, almost set off into cackling again by her inability to keep the gas from escaping. Ew. "You know, Ansith says you're worthy of standing," she said abruptly, just as though the words must be expelled with the same immediacy as her rather cavernous burp had been. "What were your plans when you came here?" The quality of voice there, as well as her slightly wistful expression, seemed to indicate a bit of indecision as to her own former aspirations.
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farsing
Fresh Meat
[M:15]
Posts: 10
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Post by farsing on Aug 11, 2011 22:49:03 GMT -5
His interest peaked a bit. The current Goldrider had come from Telgar? Telgar Weyr was something he hadn't frequented, but he did know if it, and everyone in the Hold did know who was in charge. So the Weyrwoman of Sunset would be a familiar name, how strange. It wasn't as if Clautiv favored dragonriders in the least, a name he remembered might ignite more spite, if anything. He instead nodded, feigning a look of mild surprise. He grinned broader at her mention of Ista and the weather there. Sure, he had never traveled far outside of the Smithhall but he knew, he had heard stories, heard tales of places with sweltering lands and humid air. It seemed, right then, so far and distant from what he as experiencing.
"Ista, I can only imagine how warm it is there." He allowed himself a chuckle. ignoring the dark, cold steel that settled itself deep within the pit of his stomach. He nodded his head again in a small bow once the dragonrider had mentioned her name and bonded, a force of habit that his manners had forced up, along with a tart, bitter taste in the back of his throat. "Clear skies to you, J'ain. I'll have to invest in this layers idea, sounds like it might fight off the bite that seems to haunt the hallways." He grinned again, and almost, just almost he could feel himself warming up to the informality that the rider had about her. Firstly, her noticed he had a man's name, elided like one. Sure, she was a dragonrider, lumped into that large sum of ignorant, foolhardy, arrogant fools who overstepped their boundaries. However... she didn't act like she required intense levels of praise and adoration.
She did judge. She did laugh. That was all that seared in Clautiv's mind.
"Glad to be of service. Actually I just finished a load of buckles for riding straps, glad to be helping the riders of the Weyr." It was a bold lie right through his teeth, but he sold it with his look of familiarity and casualness that exuded from him. He'd be deep and bitter somewhere hidden and small inside of him, he'd touch upon it later, when he was alone, and otherwise keep it masked. His issue was no one else’s, and he would hold true to that. He tilted his head a stitch as the rider continued to speak. "Farming, you say? I'm sure each craft has it's strong point within the Weyr, I'm just thankful I can provide my help to it." It wad terribly new, he knew that much, although it, along with the rest, had participated in that turn's long absence.
"Oh! I don't know if I could agree to any dragon being a blob." He admitted that in almost a sheepish light, allowing a soft smile to grace his lips. Dragons. To be entirely truthful, he hadn't touched much on the dragons at all, he hadn't thought much on them at all, he only focused on the riders.
Within a moment his whole composure froze. It would be hard to describe the sensation of a voice breaking into his mind and announcing those words proudly, Clautiv would later realize he couldn't put the feeling into words. It was absolutely, in a way, terrifying. Without much effort this... thing had breached the walls he had safely erected in how own conscious that kept stray thoughts out, and the voice had vibrantly broke in, declaring something about scratching it's 'own rump'. The journeyman only paused, his eyed widening outwardly as he heard the blue dragon's voice. Did everyone deal with this? outward intrusion on a very private mind?
He didn't have too long to think about it when the bluerider seemed to swallow down the contents of her mug and belch. Clautiv suppressed a grin, and after her cackling he almost regarded her next comment as something unreal. 'Ansith says you're worthy of standing.'
Clautiv's stomach froze over.
"St-standing?" The memory of hearing the news of Brondin, his once closest friend, burned in his mind. The boy had been slaughtered, torn to ribbons by a mislead hatchling in a hatching at Telgar. He had died. The person that Clautiv had once associated at being the individual who knew him best, gone with nothing more than a message to tell of his passing. His mind was only distracted by the following question that the dragonrider asked. "Came here? Truthfully, I aim to excel. The MasterSmith had sent me here for further learning, and that's what I had planned. I'm here to shine." Despite the guise he had been fronting, that answer was true to the core. Clautiv was here to succeed, and he would aim and strive to do so no matter what.
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Post by Sher on Aug 12, 2011 0:05:54 GMT -5
"Buckles, eh? When I was a weyrling, we used ropes to tie ourselves on, none of those new-fangled metal and leather contraptions," J'ain grumped in her deepest tones, deliberately sounding like a crotchety old man and grinning. "Boy, that was a long time ago!"
For you, Ansith retorted, moving further into his weyr to curl up out of the wind. The blizzard had taken a decided turn for the worse, again, and most folks were smart enough to stay inside now anyway. Watching the insides of his eyelids would be more fun than waiting for another crazy human to run halfway across the Weyrbowl before realizing there was ice down there and slide onto their tailless rump.
J'ain couldn't help but replay in her mind the way the journeyman's face had looked when he was accidentally spoken to. Priceless. "Well, there really isn't much use for farmercraft here. A few crops in nice weather, sure, but that's when Thread will be at its worst." The reminder of Thread made an involuntary shiver run down her spine, and she stepped off for a moment to half-fill her mug again, partly just for the radiated warmth from the beverage through the fired clay. "Ansith really is a blob. He'd sit in the sun all day if he thought he could get away with it." She paused, head tilted, waiting for a snappy reply from Hers, but the blue had dropped off quite soundly already, enough not to be stirred by stray thoughts. This time as she sipped the klah, she did so cautiously. "Further learning, huh. Well, if you do happen to catch a hatchling's eye, you certainly will be learning. Dragons have a wide mental range, even from the egg. That's how they can find the people that should have been on the Hatching Grounds when they are in fact on the stands!"
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farsing
Fresh Meat
[M:15]
Posts: 10
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Post by farsing on Aug 12, 2011 16:19:25 GMT -5
Tie themselves on? The mental image that roused up in Clautiv's mind was strange enough, and the Smith managed to grin at the bluerider. Had he been raised more within the Hold rather than the Crafthall he probably would've thought it strange, probably downright wrong that a female was on a blue dragon, a blue male dragon. Clautiv, despite having very clear and set boundaries for nearly every aspect of his life, didn't care about that, not one bit. Besides, plenty of the girls in the Smithhall were of the more, ah, masculine sorts anyways. This J'ain was strange, strange was probably putting it lightly. She had a deep voice and was nothing like the prissy Holdbred women who fancied their lace and ruffles.
He had already known that dragonriders were an unruly lot, turns out most of them were more so than he knew.
"Thread." He murmured the word under his breath when the dragonrider continued to speak of it. Thread, the one thing that kept the dragonriders useful. Without thread what would there be? The only reason these individuals had such egos to boast about was because of thread. It was only the fact that Pern had this villain that created the supposed heroes that were dragonriders. Selfserving heroes. Their dragons were the one who flamed, their dragons were the ones that naturally fought against the deadly silver strands. Clautiv allowed a small smile at the mention of the rider's dragon being a blob--Ansith. He was preoccupied, mind buzzing with the idea of a hatching.
Would he stand there and be cut down just as his friend had been? Were there healers present? Why did no one save him? Were they not to disrupt what happens or was it simply because no one chose to act?
"They pick people from the stands?" The last comment she had made jarred him from his contemplation. Strange. Perhaps had he been someone more interested or more thrilled to be just Searched he would've rambled into the questions that most candidates asked; how was it like? how did they know? what do you do? Clautiv wasn't interested in such a thing, he was conflicted. There was a swell of anxiety from behind his mask of composure, and in an attempt to quell it he swallowed a full mouthful of klah. "I've heard candidacy is a full-time type of rank. Am I officially Searched? And does this mean I have to step away from my Craft?" His tone was serious, a bit more serious than the jovial persona he had been portraying.
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Post by Sher on Aug 12, 2011 22:34:43 GMT -5
"Sometimes they do. It's called a Stands Impression, and supposedly it's a big deal, because with all those dragons there a last minute Search could definitely happen." She'd been sipping along, rather enjoying the company of a fellow she'd perceived to be a friendly young smith. He was skilled enough at his subterfuge that she honestly had no idea anything else was going inside that blond head of his. J'ain did assume that Clautiv had some prior knowledge of the way things worked; she was very new to her rank, and didn't know yet that most candidates didn't know those fascinating details. She tossed her hair a touch impatiently, willing it to go behind her ears where it belonged. Should've just cut it all off. After a moment, she succumbed to the inevitable and let go of the mug with one hand to put her rebellious locks back in place.
A question of rank, though - that was something she was equipped to handle. "Candidacy elsewhere is a full time rank. We like informality, if you hadn't guessed." J'ain flashed him a quick grin, trying to dislodge his seriousness a bit. "After all, you can take a man from a craft, but you can't take a craft from a man. Don't get me wrong. You are officially Searched, but all that means is that your name is going into a register, and when there's a candidate lesson you'll need to be there. But since you have a trade already, you won't be pulled away from it for chores. You're no naughty weyrbrat, at least." She bit her lip a little, eyes going distant as she wondered idly what she was forgetting. She perked up so suddenly that the klah in the bottom of her cup splashed audibly (though none escaped).
"Journeyman, you will want to move your things to the candidate barracks fairly soon," J'ain added, eying him a bit oddly. He was taking this very well, she decided; very calmly and with a level head. Better than the last person Ansith had taken a liking to, who had bounced around squealing. "It's mostly to get you used to the idea of not having privacy, because being Impressed really does that to you."
Another of her frequent smiles, this one touched with nostalgia, crossed her face at a memory. It was like rain falling on a dry field. Just what I needed...
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farsing
Fresh Meat
[M:15]
Posts: 10
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Post by farsing on Aug 15, 2011 11:57:33 GMT -5
If Clautiv didn't have this bubbling grudge that frothed behind the wall of hid mind, perhaps he would've felt a smidge guilty about how false he was acting. Although, that would mean that he had some honor about him, and anyone who managed to be on the wrong side of an argument with Clautiv would find out that is certainly not the case. He may be in a sharding Weyr of all places, but he won't sit and whine about it. Clautiv will find something to do, something to attain and make his own. His ambition was quenchless and he was setting out to track a course of what to do next. Sure, he the idea of becoming the type of person he absolutely hated, a dragonrider, made him a bit physically ill. He had always been willing to sacrifice his own needs to gain something better, though.
As for what was actually better? That was yet to be thought of. Partially because he hadn't gotten that far along in his thinking, and partially because he was avoiding the topic of Impression all together in his scheming. You'll have to face it. He'd rather come to face it at the Sands the day of the bloody hatching rather than now.
"Informality is quite a breath of fresh air." He grinned again, and this time it wasn't wholly false. He didn't expect the bluerider to give him this answer. His craft, that was really the backbone of who Clautiv was, underneath all of his ambition and lies. Smithing was what he could grapple onto when the world slipped by him slick as oil. Smithing grounded him, but they weren't going to take that away. "I couldn't tell you how much better that makes me feel. I'd be a nutcase without m'metal." Alas, he still was officially Searched, something that he hadn't planned on at all. Perhaps it could work in my favor. And perhaps bloody crawlers will start flying. He didn't flinch when the dragonrider perked upwards, but his hand did noticeably tighten over his own mug quickly.
"My things?" Oh of course. He may still be a crafter, but she did say he was officially Searched, which meant he was under the rank of candidate now. He'd live with the rest of the candidates and attend lessons with them. He'd share a room with them. He could almost imagine the excited prattling. "Of course, 'rider." Privacy, he could imagine privacy with someone--or something--to be quite scarce, especially seeing how easily that dragon had pierced into his mind. "I'll move them today, there isn't much so it can't be too hard." He grinned amiably again, doing his best to not prickle at the idea of co-inhabiting with a bunch of squirrelly candidates.
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Post by Sher on Aug 15, 2011 23:04:21 GMT -5
J'ain's lips pulled down briefly at the corners as she peered down into her mug. Empty now, and as affable as she thought Clautiv to be, she still knew it would be grossly unfair to her blue to make him wait much longer for a good oil rub. He needed it, after being caught out in the blizzard that could have killed them. Maybe since he was asleep just now, it wouldn't matter, but the woman knew without the shadow of a doubt that she owed her life to him, twice over. The Threadscore she bore was a visible reminder of the first time he'd saved them both. The clump could have landed on her face- or his spine between the neck ridges, rather than across his wing shoulder- and either scenario would have spelled their end.
Belatedly, she realized she'd had a momentary lapse of attention. Shards. I really am getting old. What had he said? "Aw, come on, journeyman-" She began blithely. At least she wasn't calling him son again. One brown eye winked saucily. "-We're all a little nuts. The ones that can't admit it are the ones that need to be watched."
Back in their weyr, she could 'feel' Ansith wallowing around in his sleep on the rough-made dragon couch. Not waking, yet, just resettling- and unconsciously reassuring J'ain that he was comfortable enough that she could linger. She returned the amiable grin with a smirk, one that in her younger days would have spelled trouble of a decidedly adult nature for whomever she flashed it to; one that, now, was teasing more than anything else. Such cavalier indiscretions were in the past. Sort of. "I think I owe you an apology," she blurted. "A bit rude of me to keep you standing here after you've been working! Did you come here just for the klah? Are you hungry? I could get you something," she offered. "Might be faster than waiting for a drudge."
To be young again, she thought regretfully, then fleetingly taunted herself with the possibility of Clautiv Impressing a green dragon. Ansith wasn't as quick on the wing as he used to be, and his rider's blood wasn't as quick to stir as in their youth. But an 'open' nature like the young smith's had always been something J'ain looked for in friends and lovers alike. Oh, she wouldn't make any blunt references or drop any hints. Rules were rules. And anyway, she was old enough she probably could have birthed him. Pity!
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farsing
Fresh Meat
[M:15]
Posts: 10
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Post by farsing on Aug 18, 2011 14:10:17 GMT -5
Strange, this rider was more than jovial, and seemingly relaxed even though this had been the first time this woman had even encountered Clautiv. Were all dragonriders like that? Stupid to even consider that. He wasn't about to let himself become all wide eyed at how dragonriders may act. They were just like anyone else, anyone else, which is why Clautiv believed they shouldn't be treated any differently. They did their job, it was their task, just like it was his to make sharding buckles all day long. Heroes, they're no more of a hero than a stable boy. He took another drink of his klah, his mug near empty now, and arched an eyebrow at the bluerider as she spoke up.
"I suppose you could be right on that, everyone can be called a little strange for various reasons." Sure, people would think Clautiv was out of his mind for preferring to work with hot metals. Granted, perhaps he was a little nuts because of this deep-seeded grudge and how he went about masquerading as this appeasing, amiable figure.
"An apology?" Clautiv's expression read of surprise, and he instantly batted it away with a hand as if J'ain had sent it careening through the air towards him. "I suppose I did come here because of that, the hungry thing, but t'be honest I can't seem t'find my appetite any more." His stomach was too knotted with a mixture of unease, rage and nausea at what he was now weighed down with. A candidate, a sharding candidate. Perhaps some boys would be thrilled, but the prospect of standing on the Sands had completely blocked out Clautiv's hunger. "Excitement, I guess." The word nearly seared open his throat, and Clautiv had to struggle to not cringe at that word. He was anything but excited.
"Oh, but thank you for the offer." He smiled widely, even a bit sheepishly to the bluerider, unaware of what may be going on in that head of hers. "I'll most likely be antsy for a bit, and I've never been to stomach things while all wound up." He shrugged, for one being painfully honest. Nerves had always made his stomach a delicate thing. Funny, you wouldn't expect any part of a Smither to be delicate whatsoever. "But don't feel bad, it's nice t'stand in front of the hearth, and a warm mug of klah is perfect in this weather." He pulled his eyes away from the rider, allowing a brief look down at the clothes he was wearing. "Speaking of the weather, I ought to find myself a tailor here, you're right about the whole jacket thing."
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Post by Sher on Aug 19, 2011 19:38:47 GMT -5
The bluerider definitely understood not being able to eat because of excitement, and said so. "It was like that before Threadfalls last Turn," she remembered aloud, rubbing her fingers across the scores on her arm. "Excitement, and nerves. Fear. Hunger came later, after it was all over." She raised an eyebrow at him. "You just be sure to remember to eat. This Weyr will work you to the bone if you let it."
J'ain was bold and brassy enough to reach out and poke Clautiv's insufficient garment with a finger. "Of course I'm right about the jacket. It's winter, for Faranth's sake." Shaking her head, she half-raised her empty mug. "Much as I'd like to stand here jawing, I'd better get on." Real regret colored her tone, but she had a final smile for the journeyman. "I owe Ansith a good oiling. We were out in that blizzard for longer than I like to think about." She paused. What did one say to wish a smith well? Under the circumstances, she decided to stick with, "Stay warm, candidate."
And with no more farewell than that, the rider was headed toward the door with long strides. As she passed someone on the way in, she cheerfully handed them her dirty and empty mug, with a laugh and a friendly clout to the individual's shoulder, before she swept out of the doorway.
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farsing
Fresh Meat
[M:15]
Posts: 10
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Post by farsing on Aug 22, 2011 14:59:12 GMT -5
Threadfalls. The word along brought the hairs on the back of Clautiv's neck standing upright. Threadfall was horrid, yes yes, but it was a downright stroke of brilliant luck that it didn't begin to fall during the sharding turn all of those dragonriders were gone. Absently he watched as the rider rubbed at her scored arm and nodded as she continued to speak. Hunger would come later, he could understand that, for him it found he a hunger of fury. He was Searched, really? And forced to co-inhabit with excitable individuals who looked forward to this sort of thing. Think about it later. It doesn't matter, not now. He allowed another grin on his features and took some of the rider's words to merit. "I'll do my best not to forget."
Clautiv allowed a small chuckle from the bold poking that the bluerider made. Winter, winter was in full force. He could not wait for it to thaw. Warm weather was what Clautiv thrived in, and this snow, this sharding blizzard was a huge damper on things. It made the unhappy little camper into an even fouler mood.
"Oh, of course 'rider, I didn't mean to keep you from your business. Give Ansith my well wishes." He smiled and nodded, politely standing back as the dragonrider bid her farewells and walked by. That last bit, that sharding last bit made his skin crawl a bit as he was left clutching onto his empty mug like a lifeline. Candidate, she had called him a candidate. Had he been so easily changed from a role he had spent his life working on to something thrown at him because some dragon thought he could Stand? Clautiv swallowed against the knot that once again rose in his throat and held his head high. Take it in stride, this would not end him. He was far more resilient than this.
And with that he turned to hand over his own used mug, intent on weaving out through the corridors to begin moving his belongings. He was a candidate now, and he was to move into the quarters with the rest of them. Clautiv figured it would be simpler to do it sooner rather than later. If he procrastinated it would only make the circumstances more strained because he would've had time to think about it all. Quick and painless, that's what he wanted, and that's what he hoped it would be.
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