Difference between revisions of "Logs:Hatching Day in the Candidate Quarters"

Candidate Quarters, High Reaches Weyr

Two caverns lead one right into the other from a hallway just off the Common Room. Taking advantage of the high, vaulted ceiling, bunk beds march in five neat rows of five beds each allowing up to fifty people to sleep in one cavern, although one of those caverns is presently largely closed off. Functional and spartan in atmosphere, there's little in the way of decoration here, just the one tapestry depicting a hatching on the wall of the first cavern and eggs on the sands in the second.

Each bunk is made up when there are candidates in residence, with standard sheeting, gray woollen blankets and somewhat lumpy pillows. A trunk stands at both the head and foot of the bunks, providing a little space for the occupants to store their belongings while the wait for the eggs to hatch. The archway between the two spaces is covered over with a hide hanging, easily hooked back when both caverns are in use, but tacked into place when only the first is needed. A proper wooden door closes out noise and drafts from the hallway.

Early morning brought excitement to the barracks. With the news that Hraedhyth's eggs are near ready to hatching, and nothing but helping prepare for the hatching feast left to do, there is a near tangible edge of tension as the day draws on. Now, with sunset drawing near and the day very nearly over, some have begun to wonder if the eggs are ever going to hatch. Tolman, a lanky lad of seventeen, sits on the edge of his cot the white robe laid out next to him. "Hard to believe that the day is really here." He says it loudly enough that those nearby can certainly hear him, though he doesn't seem to be saying it to any person in particular.

If Jayzin is excited about the eggs that are near hatching, he seems to be very composed despite it. Maybe it has a bit to do with the flask that he has finally uncovered from his trunk once they are released from their various preparations. He is prepared, even if he has thrown aside the white robe while digging for it. With it, he flops back onto his own cot, heels kicked up easily as he uncorks the flask for a quick sip, watching the rest of the barracks.

A tidy cot nearby Tolman is occupied, by a prone Valenros, hands pillowed under his head. He's just staring up at the ceiling with void eyes, still as someone sleeping without a simple emotion on his pale face. At the sound of the other candidate's familiar voice, he turns his head in that direction, his brown eyes shifting their focus. "Still time.. to run." That's real encouraging.

By now Jadzia is laying on her cot with her knees bent and her arms folded behind her head. Her eyes are closed but that doesn't mean she's sleeping or otherwise not completely aware of her surroundings. Too aware for her own taste, possibly. "I wish it'd hurry up and get over with already."

Tolman's eyes sweep across the others, lingering a moment on Jayzin's flask, though not covetously. "I still don't want to." Run, that is. "Do you?" He asks of Valenros. Then to Jadzia, "Do you really? I mean, it could be a 'once in a lifetime' thing, right? Shouldn't we... I don't know, savor it, or something?" The way he looks back to Jayzin invites him to join the conversation.

"It'll be over when it's over," Jayzin offers so casually, as if he's been through this before. (He hasn't, and yet.) Maybe he is a latently blooming philosopher. His gaze flicks from Valenros to Jadzia, laughter in his eyes and caught in his throat even as he lifts his flask again. "But, waiting is never a once in a lifetime thing. Whole lives are spent waiting."

Savoring things is not Valenros's style. "No.. no.. not now. Not after.. everything." He casts a suspicious glance over Jadzia, his face becoming pinched and he pushes up with the palms of his hands, resting on his elbows. "Why is.. why are you in a hurry? Why.. get it over with? You have somewhere to go?" His attention moves freely between Jadzia and Tolman, though he does spare a curious look for the guy with the flask - maybe he looks kind of like he could use a drink too.

One of her legs starts bouncing just slightly. It's fidgeting in a way that the blonde doesn't usually succumb to. Jadzia finally sits up, glaring across at Jayzin and his flask. Mostly his flask. "Can you not?" is said to Jayzin before she's glancing over at Tolman and Valenros. "If I don't Impress, I'll go to another Weyr and try again there. I already have someone that will take me." So, not 'once in a lifetime' anything.

Tolman concedes Jayzin's point with a nod and a soft, "'Suppose that's true." To Jadzia though, he's shaking his head, "No, I mean once in a lifetime if you do Impress. It's like... your last hours just being you, not you the dragonrider, you know?" He looks to Valenros. Does he know?

"Why? Do you want some?" Jayzin offers to Jadzia easily, jiggling the flask so that the liquid sloshes audibly inside. Because clearly when people ask you to not, they just want to as well. "There'll be another clutch here, soon enough. I'll likely stay through then, at least, if I don't Impress." He doesn't seem too concerned with the prospect, though, as he rolls a shoulder in a casual shrug.

"So.. you 'want' to Impress?" Valenros blinks, looking surprised. "You.. that's what you want out of life? And you.. will keep going until you.. get it?" Or don't, but it's best left unsaid. For Tolman's benefit, he nods, and then sits up fully on his cot, legs still extended. "Yeah.. yeah, just, you in your own.. head.. for now.. never again until.. you know.. you die." A shrug follows and he swings his legs over his bed, aiming himself towards Jayzin. "I'll.. I could use.. some."

Sorry, Tolman. Jadzia isn't the right choir for that preaching. "I'd love to finally not be me." If she weren't so... whatever she is right now, she might not say that much. But she is whatever she is right now. She glares at Jayzin, jaw tense, but doesn't answer him. Instead she lays back again, bent leg back to bouncing, and answers Valenros, "Of course I want to Impress. You shouldn't be here if you don't want to Impress."

"Too bad. You could really use to loosen up before you get out there," Jayzin continues to offer to Jadzia lightly, even where she meets his previous one with silence. But then, really, it's too late because he's tossing his flask over to Valenros. "Don't drink too much if you can't hold your liquor. Wouldn't do to vomit on the Sands."

"I want to Impress." This comes a touch defensively from Tolman though no one asked him. "I wouldn't want to drink before dodging hatchlings with really sharp and clumsy claws and lots of teeth." Also not asked of him, but volunteered as a very pretty start to some haunting worries for the Sands. He is watching though, the interaction between the other candidates, the questions and answers. "I'll stand for Iesaryth's clutch, too, if I don't make it." He nods to Jayzin's idea, rising and shaking out his robe as if that'll help somehow.

There's Tolman with that talk about sharp dragons again. Valenros shakes his head as he catches the flask, raising it in salute to Jayzin. "Thanks." He takes a long swig and then tosses it back, flopping back on his bed. "I don't think.. no one here wants to 'not' Impress, but I wouldn't go from Weyr to Weyr.. uh, trying to," he fills in helpfully for Jadzia, easing back into a relaxed pose.

Jadzia's gaze is drawn to the flask again. And since it's Valenros with it now, she gives him a dirty look. And then she's turning onto her side. To face away from them. "I'll stay for Iesaryth's," she says even though she's not facing them anymore and none of them probably care that much what the cranky blonde is planning on doing.

Jayzin catches his flask easily, and despite Jadzia's turning away (or perhaps contrarily because of it), he moves to tuck it away back in his trunk. He hides it in a pair of socks, just in case. "All of us except for ten, likely, will be there for Iesaryth's," he dismisses easily.

"I dunno, some people do it once and never want to face the Sands again." Tolman answers Jayzin now. "I've seen it happen. Known other apprentices." He shrugs, laying the robe back on his bed. He glances toward Jadzia's back, then Valenros with a 'what are you gonna do?' kind of rhetorical look, if looks can be rhetorical. "I'm gonna go get a nip of something so I'm not starving when I hit the Sands," which, admittedly, may not be the way to go if one is trying not to vomit on the sands. Still, he gives a little general wave and heads toward the nighthearth and its nearby supply of food and drink.

Valenros returns Jadzia's dirty look with a blank look of his own, an annoyed expression taking its place once she turns her back. "I'll.. be here, for the next, if I.. don't Impress." But he won't be jumping from Weyr to Weyr apparently. "Waiting does.. suck though." He exhales slowly and turns his head towards Jayzin, "What's in there?" The flask, undoubtedly. Tolman is easily dismissed with a wave.

Because Jadzia is in a bad mood, it might be strange that she doesn't offer back any other biting remarks to the one particular candidate that appears to be pushing her buttons. But she doesn't. She just curls up, one arm under her pillow, and stares off the other way. Probably making the candidate a few cots down a little uncomfortable since they're making a point not to make eye contact with her.

"Rum," answers Jayzin dismissively, the rest of his things tucked carefully back into his trunk without being actually tidy. "Don't worry about the waiting. You'll spend enough time waiting, if you choose to wait."

It's as the sun begins to drop below the spires, at the end of this early spring day, that the humming commences. There have been signs all day, of course - it's no surprise - but there's a gut-punch to it, too, as the birth song of the dragons begins resonating through the weyr, echoing deeply enough to be felt inside as well as out. It's time; it's unmistakably time.

Listlessly lying on his cot - even after the talk such a short time earlier - Valenros doesn't instantly react when the humming starts; his is a delayed reaction, a glance to the left and right, as he takes in everyone's emotions first. "Shit," he swears, pushing himself up and running a hand through his short hair. Next, well, naturally comes the robes. He grabs for his, hastily knocking off another garment that was draped off the end of his bed. "It's.. it's.." To anyone nearby, his eyes are wide and he looks a smidge paler than normal.

Humming is not a sound that Jadzia has heard before. The start of it makes her sit up, forgetting her tense crankiness long enough to figure out what it actually is. And once that's out of the way, it's so much easier to focus on changing into her crumpled up robe than worry about whether or not she's had anything to drink today.

It's only a minute or two after the humming begins that Quinlys bursts through the doorway of the candidate barracks, wearing wherhide trousers and a thin shirt, and looking calm, collected, and... well, okay, just a little excited. The red-haired bluerider beams, glancing around as she draws herself up against the wall next to the door. "Okay, people," she calls, voice aimed to carry. "Robes on, hair up, boots laced, and let's get going."

You know who doesn't panic? Jayzin. Just as calm as he was earlier, he merely pushes himself to his feet, streeeetching and tucking away his knife into his belt. The same belt that will later get put over the robe that he gets from the trunk.

The robe goes on, Valenros is quick about it, lacing up his boots and then smoothing back his hair in one gesture. Then he simply stands, silent and uncomfortable, waiting instructions with a sickly pallor. Hopefully this one doesn't erf.

Jadzia strips down and braids her hair quickly before finishing with putting her robe all the way on. It's not like her standing around naked will distract anyone right now with that humming and excitement and that person puking over there.

"No knives." Quinlys is good at taking knives away from people; good at delivering scathing glances as she meanders down the rows, too. She holds out her hand with the obvious intention of taking that knife from Jayzin, gaze flicking from him to the others, then back again. "Start lining up, people. We need to get out there before anything happens. Go, go go." She has a tapestry to pull back, a door to unlock; a door that promptly gets swung open as she gestures for the candidates to precede her.

Jayzin is reluctant at giving over his knife, but he does. He does, with a longing glance cast back towards it as it disappears with the Weyrlingmaster. But, soon enough he is ready to go and moves to join the line of candidates onto the Sands.