Logs:Eggs and Questions
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| RL Date: 15 February, 2016 |
| Who: Daemon, Ninwayzan, Mirinda |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Candidates look at eggs; Mirinda answers some questions. |
| Where: Hatching Galleries, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 10, Month 1, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Dahlia/Mentions, Kh'tyr/Mentions, M'kris/Mentions, Olivya/Mentions |
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| A rest day finds Ninwayzan in the galleries once more. Not just good for egg watching but for seeking warmth as well. He's currently camped out in the seating as close to the sands as one can get without sitting /on/ the sands. A large drawing pad sits forgotten on his lap, a scene partially drawn, his gaze upon the hardening eggs. Warmth is probably at least part of Mirinda's reasons for entering the galleries, too; the Monacoan-bred Weyrwoman is bundled up to the nose when she enters, and doesn't seem immediately minded to start peeling off layers, eithers. Still more of the reason likely has to do with the queen on the sands, though the sleeping Taeliyth is presently without her rider, a fact the dark-haired woman registers only once she's close enough to the sands themselves to get a good look. That progression finds her not too far from Ninwayzan, and as she turns, a glimmer of recognition crosses her features. "An impressite sight, aren't they," she comments quietly. Ninwayzan's no longer quite so bundled up to indicate he's most likely been camped out here for a bit. The steps of the approaching rider doesn't quite catch his attention so it's not until her quiet comment reaches his ears that his head tilts before turning to peer upwards. "Yes ma'am, very impressive. Good drawing material so far too." despite the lack of movement from them. "How hard do you suppose they are?" queries the lad. "They don't move; I suppose that helps," comes with a note of amusement, as Mirinda carefully peels off first one fur-lined glove, and then the other. "Though I imagine you would need pastels, or pencils, or something to truly capture them. So much is about the color." Her dark-eyed gaze slides away from the candidate and towards the eggs, evaluating them with a considering eye. Even so, her answer is non-commital: "Harder than they were yesterday, not so hard as they will be tomorrow. Without getting closer... but it won't be too much longer." One brow arches ever so slightly at her answer. Tomorrow a thing always chases since tomorrow becomes today. Again his gaze slides to the sands briefly before returning to his companion out here in the stands. "My first chance to watch a hatching and i'll be down there." something he finds a tad amusing from his tone. "Colors will be added in. When I find the right ones." "It's a good view, down there," Mirinda assures Ninwayzan. "Chaotic, exhilarating, but... it's a good way to experience it for the first time, I expect. Just stay on your toes; pay attention." She smiles as she says it, something fondly reminiscent in her expression. "In any case, congratulations on accepting the opportunity. We're very glad to have you." Ninwayzan offers a pleasant enough smile at the congratulations offered. "Thank you ma'am. It's been a learning experience certainly. My mother was happy I said yes to the opportunity. Do you think my family would have the chance to attend the hatching?" Mirinda tucks her gloves into the pockets of her coat, then moves on to unwinding the long woven scarf she wears. "She was? Good. I'm glad." She doesn't clarify that particular remark, but instead moves in to add, "If you speak to the headwoman or her staff, she will be able to arrange transport for them, of course-- as long as the eggs don't elect to hatch at an inopportune moment." "She was." there is emphasize there by Ninwayzan to indicate perhaps other family members were not so much so. "Then she's always supported anything I did." leaning back a bit he looks again to the eggs. "Suppose they don't follow a set schedule when to pop." Dark eyes turn to focus upon Ninwayzan, watchfully wary. "Families," she murmurs, quietly, "Can be very complicated. It's important, I think, for us all to remember that our lives are ours; that we aren't beholden to what others expect of us." The way she says it, this is a personal lesson, not just one offered to a much-younger person. Rather more firm is her added, "No, no they do not. There's usually some warning-- we tend to know the day of, if not exactly when, but they'll hatch when they wish. Zaisavyth's last came just before dawn." "I suppose after turns of having hatchings that some things can be figured out for timing of hatching." muses Ninwayzan. "Like baking, everything giving indicators to being finished." he says nothing much else on families however he does take the advice with a nod. He certainly knows how complicated families get. Instead of continuing that path of conversation he merely starts a new one. "Are the chores offered now the same as when you were a candidate?" "Precisely," agrees Mirinda, pleased. Now, finally, she begins to unbutton her heavy coat; perhaps the warmth of the galleries is finally seeping in. She stands at the very lowest level of the galleries, not too far from Ninwayzan, who sits with a sketch-pad. "I Impressed at Monaco, so there are some differences-- regional differences. Weather differences. But the basic concept is the same, on the whole. Ways to keep you all busy and productive. Did you move into the barracks?" Ninwayzan's sketchpad shows a half-drawn scene of the eggs, sans colors, for anyone who is close enough to peek onto the pad. "I did." he relies. "I wasn't overly settled into my room before so..." one shoulder lifts in a shrug. "Figured it would be best to get to know the other candidates." Fingers of frost trail in the wake of Daemon's heavy approach, arms laden with a few books and cheeks bright from the winter's chill. For a moment, he stands and tries to shake the snow off like a beast of burden, before his eyes first land on Mirinda that provokes a quick blink and jerk of his attention from Mirinda to Ninwayzan and his sketch-pad. "Awful cold out there," is his slow drawl of introduction, though the young man offers the Weyrwoman a sharp salute. His gaze skips past the pair of them to the eggs that lie on the sand. "I was just going to do a bit of studying in here," his tone suggests he might just flee, however, if either one of them said 'boo' a little too loudly. "My father," and yes, there is a twitch in Mirinda's voice as she acknowledges the man; scuttlebutt, for those who listen to it, would identify him as a now former-Weyrleader of Monaco, a man charged-- but ultimately acquitted-- with the murder of a High Reachian Wingleader. "My father insisted I move into the barracks. That it was important to not only know my fellow candidates, but be known by them. It does help, of course, to have friends among the group that you could end up training with for the next turn." That the topic makes her quietly uneasy is probably obvious from the awkward way she plucks at the button of her coat; that Daemon's arrival is a good distraction is probably also plainly visible, given the way she abruptly turns, not flushed but rather pale-faced, to acknowledge him. "By all means," she allows. And, "Good afternoon." Ninwayzan clearly senses the change in her comfort level towards awkward. Shifting in his seat he seems very unsure of what even to say next. The distraction of Daemon's arrival has him swiveling his head that way. "Oh hey." he greets his fellow candidate. "Whatcha stuyding?" Daemon's eyes dart from Mirinda to Ninwayzan, and back to Mirinda. Something settles behind the eyes - indefinable but yet discerning - though he drops his gaze to the books in hand. "Oh, uh." Now it's his turn to be awkward. "Catching up on stuff I never got to learn." The tips of his ears redden and work-roughened fingers grip tighter on the edges of his books. "Usual... stuff... probably." Prevarication settles firmly in his baritone, though he steps forward by way of distraction and flashes both Weyrwoman and fellow Candidate an endearing grin, "Academics, you know. Whatcha drawing? Our lovely Weyrwoman?" A little bit of honey goes a long way, right? Given their last meeting, Daemon is not exactly a comforting addition to the conversation, but Mirinda has been a weyrwoman for half her life, now; she's clearly picked up a few tips for comporting herself in situations she might otherwise find awkward. "It's never too late to learn," she opines, finally managing to release the final button from her long coat, though she doesn't-- yet-- make an attempt to remove the coat itself. "Ninwayzan," she remembers! "Is drawing the eggs. I do hope you intend to show weyrwoman Dahlia?" From the way he tilts his head to one side on thought it's clear Ninwayzan hadn't thought of showing Dahlia the drawings. "Oh, well if you think she'd want to see them. I don't want to show them though until they are colored in." which means he needs to really increase his search for said colors to use. "Grandpa's always telling me to keep studying." he notes, not sensing at all any discomfort from Daemon. "Never did get the hang of drawing people too much though that's something I certainly wish to learn. I like to draw ideas for decorating deserts." Daemon squints a little at Mirinda, though when he realizes this potential faux pas, he abruptly ducks his head and seeks out a seat, at least, to prevent the act of standing there awkwardly. "S'pose it's true, that one can't ever not learn..." The string of words are put together clumsily, so he tacks on hastily, "Or something like that." A moment's pause, a clearing of his throat, and the Candidate tries again, "If you do draw 'em, you should show it off. Be proud of doing something good." In a way, he aligns with the Weyrwoman on this, encouragement as easily discerned as his edge of social awkwardness. "S'pose drawing people is hard because it's hard to capture all that emotion. The eyes, the face, the turn of the mouth. Lot is said without any words." "This is Taeliyth's first clutch; I'm sure she'd be delighted to see them," encourages Mirinda, focusing on this rather than on the lingering awkwardness that exists between the trio in various forms. "I've never had much skill with a pencil, myself." She lets her gaze turn away from the two candidates in order to glance out over the eggs, and the sleeping Taeliyth. "In any case, practice, as they say, makes perfect. Both with regards to academic work, and drawing, I imagine. And social poise. Graces. It's no wonder it takes us a lifetime to master many things, don't you think?" Beat. "Have you favourites, amongst the eggs?" Ninwayzan nods once. "I do have a couple actually. All of them look so unique to be honest." not that he has a whole lot to compare to. "But I think once I get out there, I'm going to position myself right by that one." a gesture is made towards a bright white that has luminous gold through out. (Spirit's Silhouette). "I've heard riders betting on what egg will hatch which color though to be honest I'm not even sure how they could guess just from the egg itself. Queens don't always come from the egg with gold on it, do they?" "I didn't have time for book learnin' when I was growin' up," Daemon comments, hefting the books until they're stacked in his hands so he can shuffle them off to the side. "Can't really draw, but I've done passably well at manual labor," a hint of self-depreciation winds through the almost- melancholy words before the sentiment is brushed aside when his attention is diverted to the eggs that lie on the sands. "I like a few, though that fire-colored one draws my eye, I suppose." Dragging a thumbnail down the side of his jaw, he adds, "Hadn't really thought too hard about a favorite. I didn't realize one could have a favorite... Does having a favorite help your... ah... when it comes time...?" He glances back at Ninwayzan for his question, curiosity a flare in blue gaze that finally settle back on Mirinda. "No, no," Mirinda reassures, quickly. "I think it's human nature for us to end up focused on one over another, but I don't believe it makes any difference whatsoever. I suppose it's possible that one can have a favourite, and therefore touch it in particular when one gets the chance to do so, and that... influences matters? But there's no proof that it matters." She clutches her hands behind her back, a gesture that might be awkward, though her posture is otherwise straight and firm. "Queens generally come out of gold-coloured eggs, but not always. I suppose it's possible that there's one in this clutch, but it doesn't appear that Taeliyth is favouring one egg over the others." "Touch it?" Ninwayzan picks up and briefly focuses on those choice of words. "We'll be close enough to touch the eggs when they hatch?" a pause to ponder something briefly. "I've not noticed her fussing too much over the eggs the couple times I've been in here to draw." briefly he flips through the the sketch pad which show different drawings in various stages of completion. A few are of the sands while others are rooms including the living caverns and the kitchen. Seeing the kitchen drawing makes him comment, somewhat off topic. "I wonder if I'll have to help with the hatching feast if there's no dragon out there." "Touch them, ma'am?" Daemon shifts uneasily in the seat he's taken for himself. He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, eyeing the eggs askance once more while idly listening to Mirinda and Ninwayzan. "They fuss over 'em? The eggs, I mean?" A brief look at Ninwayzan for his rumination, but otherwise wisely keeps quiet on topics he knows very little about. Mirinda smiles, shaking her head as she does so, as one hand reaches out to gesture towards the eggs. "Before they hatch, we'll take you out into the sands at least once, perhaps a couple of times. You'll be invited to touch them; to get close to them. The aim is to make you more comfortable with them before they hatch. You'll notice the eggs tend to be in different arrangements and alignments; they get moved around. My Zaisavyth fusses to an extreme level; other queens, less so." As for the kitchens, the weyrwoman adds, then, "No. Whether there's a dragon for you or not, you will be a guest to the feast. Some of the preparations before the hatching, perhaps, but not after." Ninwayzan seems uncertain of that concept. "Getting to know the egg?" he questions in a quiet murmur. Hard to tell if it was intended for Mirinda or Daemon to hear but it was certainly said loud enough for both to hear. "I figured the only thing we needed to know on the sands was avoid lurching dragonette talons." "Kind of like when you start handling a foal to get it used to a handler before it gets all big," Daemon guesses, brows drawing in - though more in concentrated thought than any kind of frown. "S'pose that makes sense, but does that mean that the dragons inside can hear us too?" Which is a thought that makes him vaguely discomfited by the strangeness of it. "Like... are we supposed to talk to them?" At this point, it's possible that Daemon attempts so share a look (or maybe one of those 'I don't know' shrugs) with his fellow Candidate while Mirinda is looked to for answers. She has them! Right? Mirinda hesitates before answering, a faint hint of pink now visible in her cheeks as she admits, "I don't know if they can hear you. I like to think that they can, but we have no way of knowing; dragons don't remember being in the shell, afterwards. It certainly doesn't hurt to talk to them, though I own that I never spoke to Zaisavyth." And she still found her! "But yes-- like handling a foal, I imagine. I think. Avoiding talons is also important, Ninwayzan, and if you don't end up touching the eggs, that's not a problem. It's more... it can't hurt, once the eggs are hard enough." Ninwayzan gives a doubtful look towards the 'still hardening; harder than yesterday yet not as hard tomorrow eggs'. "Well if I get the chance to touch 'em I certainly wouldn't turn it down." he says quickly. "Found clutches of 'lizard eggs a few times along the coast at home. They felt pretty soft though but very smooth." before this though he did indeed share a look with his fellow candidate about the talking to the eggs. Evidently he seems to feel talking to inanimate objects to be silly. Or at least make him appear so. "Interesting," Daemon's catch-all response as he stands. "I think I forgot a book back in the barracks, but I think I'd like to touch them someday. Call me curious as to what a dragon's egg feels like." A hint of a quirky grin tugs up the corner of one side of his mouth. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'm warm enough to brave the cold and fetch my other book." He gives a dip of his head towards Mirinda and offers his fellow Candidate a less formal grin. Scooping up his books, however, means he doesn't leave them behind to satisfy anyone's curiosity. "Ninwayzan. Ma'am." With a lift of his hand to both, the Candidate steps out into the harrowing weather that hounds the weyr. It's likely he'll be stopping for something hot way before he manages to make his way back. "They're a little like firelizard eggs," allows Mirinda, her smile curved into something somewhat nostalgic; perhaps as much amused as it is anything else. "We used to find firelizard clutches, too--" She breaks off, not flustered this time but surprised, dark-eyed gaze seeking out Daemon as he excuses himself. "Daemon," she says, by way of offering farewell. "Best of luck with your studies." "I'll see you back at the barracks Daemon." calls Ninwayzan after the older candidate. "I suppose thought that she." he gestures with one hand towards the sands and the clutch mother. "Wouldn't want her eggs compared like that." a quick flash of a smile appears. "Monaco is so much warmer than here, I bet!" he says with a hint of longing towards warmer weather. "As is Igen." Mirinda presses her lips together, and then laughs; a low, gentle laugh. "No," she agrees. "I don't imagine she would. Zaisavyth-- well, I can't speak for Taeliyth especially, but the firelizards I had as a child all abandoned me the moment Zaisavyth arrived in my life, and I have no doubt in my mind that she was the one who sent them away. She'd be mortally offended by the comparison. Did you ever Impress one?" Ninwayzan says, "I have not no." his head shakes in unison with his answer. "Grandfather always called 'em useless flitters." from the wistfulness of his tone he never had the chance to determine if his grandfather's opinion was right or not." Mirinda turns her gaze to look at Ninwayzan, acknowledgement written across her features; sympathy too, perhaps. "My father never particularly approved either," she tells him. "But there wasn't much he could do after we'd Impressed them. He's wrong, you know; my Zaisavyth may not like them, but for people who don't have a dragon, they can be useful tools." She pauses, and then laughs. "Of course, now you may end up with a dragon, instead." "Maybe." says Ninwayzan with optimism in his tone. "My father's a bronzer but..." he wrinkles his nose. "I don't like his dragon. He's way too stubborn." a roguish grin appears. "But then my mother always says stubbornness runs in the family and that I've my fair share of it too." so maybe he doesn't want to have a battle of wits with a dragon who is just like him? "A bronzerider? Well-- that can be an indication, though of course not all dragonriders come from dragonriding families, and not all young people with dragonriders in their families end up Impressing." Mirinda's tone is even, intended-- it seems-- neither as encouragement nor discouragement. Even so, she smiles at the young man and adds, "Sometimes, I think we end up with the dragon we need, even if it doesn't seem that way. Some of us need a challenge; some need a support. But if you Impress, whatever your dragon is like, I can promise that you will love them. Unconditionally." Ninwayzan ducks his head. Unconditional love may be a bit foreign to him. OR just too sappy? "And it'll mean more chores too." now he gives that toothy, boyish grin before it fades into a slight groan. "With...with Kh'tyr. Yikes, is that man scary!" he notes. Mirinda can't help herself: she makes a face at mention of Kh'tyr. "Olivya is the one who will ultimately be in charge of the weyrlings," she says instead. "And she's not scary, not like that. You'll find her firm but fair. The chores, though... it's different, when it's your dragon, and that's the most of what you'll be doing: caring for your dragon. Weyrlinghood is hard work, but it's worth it. But," she adds, quickly, "There's no shame in not Impressing, either. Don't forget that." Ninwayzan seems to realize how much later its getting as he slowly stands, gathering together his drawing materials. "Nope, whatever happens I do think it'll happen regardless if I worry about it or not. So I just ask questions here and there to learn what to expect either way." he says brightly once his drawing pad is safely stowed away in his satchel. Drawing close his coat, a bit thin for Fort's winters but enough to get him by, he gives a respectful nod. "My pardon's ma'am, but I should return to the barracks to help clean them up before an inspection happens." which it could at any time! "Impress or not, I'm here to stay!" he adds with a wink. Mirinda presses her lips together, but stops before saying whatever she might have intended to. "Of course," she says, instead. "Have a good afternoon. I should track down Dahlia." A tip of her head acknowledges him, as she begins the process of pulling her gloves back on, buttoning her coat, and winding that scarf around her neck. |
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