Logs:Cowards Come Hatching Day
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| RL Date: 15 July, 2014 |
| Who: Tolman, Valenros |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Candidates look through robes in the stores for ones that fit. Valenros and Tolman chat about hatching day expectations. |
| Where: Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 4, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Tolman by K'zin. |
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| Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr Massive in scale, the Weyr's main storage passage connects to the kitchen on one end and the outbound tunnel on the other. Large enough to admit a wagon laden with goods, the tunnel easily permits the unloading and organization of supplies into the various storerooms. Branching off from this corridor are multiple caverns, the nearer two being 'open' stores from which residents can readily help themselves, while the deeper stores are kept locked up tight with a posted sign and inventory hung on a hook outside of each. An alcove next to the public stores serves as a catch-all area for reshelving items whose destination is uncertain; two sets of stone shelving and several bins hold these items neatly until a stores assistant has a moment to deal with them. Though the storage caverns vary in size, shape, and the smoothness of their walls, all belong to the same system: whitewashed walls, swept floors, and most importantly, neatly labeled and inventoried shelves providing ample space to stow all the supplies a busy Weyr needs. Though there's no direct internal lighting, a glowbasket may be brought in from the niche outside each cavern, the better to ward off pests and the inky dark of deep caves.
Various candidates are in the stores, handling robes and holding them up to their bodies to try out size. One is the former-holder-turned-archivist-turned-candidate. "Thanks," Valenros murmurs as he grabs up the proffered robe from his fellow candidate, straightening to his full, lack-luster height. He holds it out and makes a rueful face tinged with mild disappointment. "They.. smell.. like body odor." Shaking his head, he tosses that particular robe to the guy next to him, and crouches down to keep digging through the offending garments. Tolman tends to be a look-on-the-bright-side sort, so it's likely unsurprising that his answer is, "At least we won't have to be in them long. Hatchings happen fast." He shakes out one of the robes and holds it up. A little narrow for him. He's neither wide nor slimly built, just average, though on the tall side. "And I guess if it smells already, we won't notice all the sweat. Hot sands. Nerves." It's a recipe for excessive body odor. "Are you looking forward to it?" A sigh is Valenros's reply, his hands pulling out one that appears right, save for a rent in the side. "That's.. one way.. to look at it, I guess." He stands and holds it up, then nods his head as he estimates the sizing is about right - hole and all. "I'm.. kind of. There's.. a lot, that could happen." His brown eyes alight on Tolman, curious, "What.. what about you?" "If you'd rather, you could look at it as 'better sweat than blood'?" Tolman offers his inflection holding humor, but humor is so often based in truth. "There is." The beastcrafter agrees thoughtfully. "Could end up with a dragon." He reaches out for another robe. "Or not. If you do, is there a color you want it to be?" Not that they actually have any say in this choice, but... He shakes out the robe. "I think I'm excited, mostly. A little scared. I figure it's a little like being in a pen with a bull. Except there are ten bulls. Exploding out of eggs." How's that for some creative mental imagery? There's a momentary flick of the eyes, an intense look. "Yeah, either of those choices." Valenros slings the robe over one arm and starts pulling out another robe. "I would want.. I think.. a bronze." He punctuates that with a solid nod, which, while being solid physically doesn't reflect as well in his eyes - something indecisive in them. "Maybe.. maybe then my family would be proud." But probably not. "I had.. hadn't thought of it. I try not to. I don't want to.. lose sleep." "Not thinking about it is a good strategy." Tolman decides after he wordlessly trades the current robe with one of the other candidates for yet another to test. "I'm not sure I'd want bronze. Too much attention, you know? Plus, the bronzeriders around here seem to be pretty..." Something. That isn't what he wants to be. "I keep thinking if I got a green maybe I'd get better at talking to girls. I mean, having a girl in your head all the time has to help somehow, right?" He starts exploring the robe in hand for any rips that need repairing. "Isn't your family proud now? Or are they like the kind that only think shiny dragons are worth anything?" Valenros tosses the second robe back in the box and keeps digging. "What's wrong with wanting attention? You think.. you think all the important people in the world of scared of.. attention?" Surely not. He surveys another piece of white cloth and sighs. "I couldn't have a.. a green.. a.. a girl." Another sigh. "Not really either. They don't like.. dragons much. Holders. But.. more importance you have.. the better." So they're gold diggers. Of the non-dragon variety. The beastcrafter's shoulders roll in a shrug. "I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting attention if you actually want it and not just think you do, but it's not for me. I'd not want to chance ending up Weyrleader, for example. I mean, all kinds of awful things end up happening to them." Tolman shifts the robe to finish his inspection. "Maybe a blue or brown would be nice. I guess it matters more what they're like than what color they are. Can you imagine having a dragon who just talks and talks and talks? Or maybe one that just is creepily hanging out at the back of your thoughts? Or one that's really, really dumb? I mean, we're stuck with them forever if we get them at all. Sort of crazy and scary that we don't have any control over that kind of thing." Valenros pauses in his shifting through the robes and looks up at Tolman, his expression alert. "Y--yeah, could end up.. Weyrleader.." And he spaces out, only snapped back when the subject switches to personalities. "Why.. why worry about it if.. if you're stuck? You said it, you get.. what you get. You.. get used to whatever it is." He lifts his shoulders in a shrug and winces, "But you're right. Some of those sound.. bad. You never.. never have privacy again, any way. There's always someone there." Instead of looking sad though, he simply stares down into the diminishing pile of white. Tolman's eyes linger on Valenros a moment as he spaces out, "Try not to do that on the sands." He advises. "Those hatchlings can be pretty quick, some of them. And you definitely don't get a dragon or at least don't get to keep it if you get gored in the guts." He grimaces. Goring is bad. "I'm not worrying about it. It's just sort of fun to think about. It's kind of like thinking about who you might end up handfasting someday, if you want to do that." This speaks of Tolman's non-Weyr roots. "Or I guess like thinking about what your kids will look like someday. Terrifying and sort of fun. Even if you might never get handfasted or have kids." He shrugs and then shifts out of the way of one of the other candidates since he seems to have found his robe. "Do you think it'll be bad? To never have privacy again? Or to have to learn to fly? I think the betweening will be the worst of it. But I don't really like betweening." So. Biased. "I'll.. I'll try." Valenros pales a little at the mention of goring. Bloody business. "I.. I guess. I don't know.. a dragon who was as big of a coward as me might suck." He's an eloquent one, tipping the box with the toe of his shoe. "Or a green dragon. I'd be happy with.. a bronze." But his "happy" doesn't look exactly too happy, glum look on his face and all. "I don't.. I don't know. I feel like there isn't much privacy to be had here, but.. in my head, at least, I'm alone.. with my thoughts. I was alone at home.. too.. a lot. To have someone always with an opinion even when I don't want one or want to be alone? That's terrifying.." "Are you?" Tolman sounds surprised, "A coward, I mean. I don't know that I've seen many cowards on the Sands before. Maybe they back out before hand." His brow furrows, "Will you? Or have you made a plan to make sure you don't?" He flops the robe in his hands around his shoulders, hanging onto either end like he might be headed for a day at the beach and not the very different sort of blazingly hot sands. "That's.. what they tell me." Valenros looks confused, his brow knitted as he looks back at Tolman. "And I.. I don't have much of a, uh, choice. I can't go home, so why not? What if.. if I do Impress? I can't pass that up if there's nothing else to.. look forward to. My purpose might be out there." He sounds so serious, looks serious too. "I think I can do it. I just have to remember the reason and I should.. be ok. What about you? You're not scared of.. running away? Out of the Sands?" "Do you think that's what dragons do? Give purpose? I've wondered. Some of them, sure, but all of them? I mean, like dumb ones. Is your purpose then to tell them where they left their favorite herdbeast femur every time they forget? And could anyone be satisfied with a purpose like that? Would you?" Tolman asks, his tone indicates his interest might be primarily philosophical. "The only running I plan to do on the Sands is if one of the hatchlings decides to chase me." Does that happen? Probably not. "I figure that you're better off not attracting too much attention. If it's your dragon, it'll find you anyway, right?" "I didn't know, but I talked to.. to Weyrleader K'del and he thought so." Valenros shifts his robe from arm to arm idly. "I think.. they can. If you don't already have one. I don't.. a dragon could. But I don't know.. I haven't met too many dumb dragons." He blinks up at the other candidate, without a clue on this one. "I don't.. I don't know. Anything is better than nothing, right?" As for the rest, he looks just as bewildered. "I don't know.. I've never stood, never even been to a hatching before. I don't.. maybe? Probably?" That's a lot of "don't know"s. "Oh, well, if he thinks so." Tolman sounds amused, and he's grinning, but there's no sense of disrespect for the man in question. "Never been to a hatching," he repeats now thoughtful. "That's a lot of pressure for hatching day. You can stand near me if you like and I can trip you if you try to run." He's teasing from the lop-sided smile he offers the other candidate. "I'm sure it'll all work out. They say dragons just know when a person is their lifemate. So I guess they will." Or won't, but who'll know? "That might.. be a horrible idea." Valenros stands up and shakes his head. "I don't need a mouth full of.. of sand, on a day like that." Which reminds him. "This could be happening any day now," he says with some wonder in his voice. "I hope you get your green.. or brown.. or blue.. or whatever you want. And for your sake, uh, hope they're not stupid." That might be a smile he offers, though it looks a tad unsure all in all. Tolman has a smile for that. "And you, your bronze." He tugs one end of the robe so it slides off his shoulders and into his hands. "I'd better go put this in my press lest someone steal it out of my hands." He indicates the robe with a grin before sauntering off in the direction of the barracks. |
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