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Western Hold welcomes new blood in the form of a young couple, Lord Holder Basasius and Lady Holder Baria. A grand Gather is being hosted by Western Hold to welcome their new Lord and Lady.

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 Candidate Lesson: Spring Cleaning, SP:18 {All Candidates}
Ruin
 Posted: Jan 3 2018, 04:10 AM
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Little ones, little...flakes of snow...little white-robes waiting. It's time, it's time work now! Time to do lovely things, and make lovely things, and do all the things you haven't done all winter because it was sooo coooold and your bones hurt and your fingers hurt and now....now the air is warm and you have no more excuses

Rivath had squeeeezed herself into the Barracks. It took very little squeezing in actuality, just the pressure of her wings tucking tight around her slender frame, and then she was skittering up and down the hallways nudging the hangings aside from each and every door as she interrupted the Candidates at work or play with her swirling rainbow spangled facets. Maybe her reputation preceded her, maybe it didn't, but she went into this experience as innocent as the day she had broken shell--and just as inquisitive. Her mindvoice was clear, and firm, and she tried to make it just as tender as Ulian tried to make their voice when speaking to the lost lonely things that came to visit them. She had been the reason they had applied for this position, and she wasn't going to let them down.

Today is a day of washing away all the grime. Your grime, my grime, our grime. Even the grime you can't see can almost taste that sticks between your toes when you go places you shouldn't. That grime up and down the female corridor, up and down the male corridor. She wouldn't stop, and could not be dissuaded. Any Candidate found nestled in their bedding was uprooted with her snout, any found lollygagging were corrected with a bright flash of crimson and a chipper pointy smile. First the white-robes clean out their rooms throw back the shutters beat out and exchange their bedding. Organize chests. Wash clothes, wash selves, and then finally you will come outside and wash me, and there you will learn dragon cleaning and anatomy. And then...

The little dragon paused in the common room, sitting down on her haunches and coiling her long tail around her slender limbs. Chores of course. I will be in to check on you, my little white robes For now, she seemed to be Riderless. Ulian was sitting in one of the nearby offices, but had hardly made themselves at home: They did, after-all, have their own office within the Infirmary where they had been plenty happy for many turns now. Rivath would always be near the Candidates now. She'd found something to pour her boundless energy into, a series of never-ending people who were both malleable and somewhat endearingly gullible. So she would harry them, and encourage them, and--with luck--teach them something useful about difficult dragons and the future the Candidate's faced.


@Blot @Leo


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Harbinger
 Posted: Jan 3 2018, 06:02 PM
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Xavinyra already had a handful of muzzle when another white one invaded her personal space. She had been preparing herself and her two pets for the cleaning after Rivath started announcing their newest assignment. Pounce immediately jumped up from his position on Xavinyra's paperwork on the desk and slid beneath the bunks while Belior stopped her demands for attention and instead sniffed in the White's direction. Xavinyra, for her part, gave Rivath a polite nod, scowling at the invasion of her space. She had quite enjoyed having a room to herself, thank you very much, and so the intrusion was not well received. Still, one couldn't tell off a Candidate Master's Dragon, no matter how rankled one got.

The beastcrafter pointed to the corner further from her personal belongings, commanding her Icehowler to stay. It wasn't exactly a difficult command, considering one of Belior's current favorite leather chew toys was sitting over there. With that taken care of, Xavinyra stared at the bunks, grumbling when she came to the assumed conclusion that the unused bunk would need to be changed over, too.

Still muttering under her breath about twice the work and half the recognition, probably. At least her indignation gave her the energy to get her chores going as quickly as possible, stripping both beds of sheets, pillows, and furs, throwing the lot through her curtained door and into the hall beyond. At least she was right next to the linen closet so getting new bedding would be quick and easy. Xavinyra kicked her pile into something a bit more reasonable, then quickly turned to get to the clean linens.

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Catsitta
 Posted: Jan 3 2018, 11:35 PM
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Apparently their new candidatemaster thought they were all disorganized slobs.

While he could not attest to the habits of others (save for his roommate), Xialas himself was an exceptional tidy person. Why would one let the cleaning be left to the spring? Who just sat in dust and filth because it was cold? The apprentice healer wanted to scoff at the assumption. Only his respect for the Master Mindhealer and their status kept him from making a snide remark. What could he gain by bickering with them and their partner? Speaking of whom...

He crossed his arms as Rivath invaded his room. The white was less admired by the candidate than her bonded. Rumors being that they were (and their status as bonded to a Healer) meant that he heard stories around the Infirmary. When he did menial chores for Journeymen and Masters for the privilege of learning all they had to offer, sometimes, he learned about the affairs of the weyr from before he arrived. If what he heard was true, this dragon wasn't quite right in the head. He knew for certain that her eyes flashed red a little too often for comfort.

"The chores you mentioned have either been done today or within the last sevenday, Candidatemaster. Save for bathing your hide as you request," Xialas informed the white in a calm, respectful voice. He could only assume the white would not react badly to being directly addressed given how she was speaking right to them. "Cleanliness is something I do not make a habit of neglecting." He even bathed that morning and his hair was still damp. Early rising and late to bed was the only way he did all that he needed to do done in a day. Balancing Candidacy and his duties as an apprentice were taxing. But it would be worth it in the end.

He uncrossed his arms and went to the shutters, throwing them open, "Though I cannot speak for my roommate and his state."

.

@Zane (Embry) @Ruin


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Captain
 Posted: Jan 4 2018, 06:59 PM
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Inali was already up and about, but the presence of a white while she pulled her tunic over her head was shocking to say the least. Nothing quite like a dragon nose to make sure you're awake! She kept her things mostly neat, but that didn't mean grime didn't accumulate. Dust was always an issue and with everything being bolted down for winter, it was probably worse than normal.

"Cleaning it is," she pulled her tunic down and turned to her roommate, a girl she hadn't had much interaction with, mostly because she showed up in her room to sleep and little else. "It will go faster if we team up." She studied Korrzalia with judgemental eyes, though she really had nothing against the girl... Yet.

@Sakoru (Korrzalia)

Havenrute had a pair of roommates. Something that kind of intimidated him, but most things intimidated the quiet boy. For all of his size, he kept his head down and tried to stay out of the way. But when it came to a deep clean, he was your man! Well, that and the fact that he was nearly double the youngest roommate's age.

Offering them a small smile, he rubbed his hands together. "I can shove everything into the middle of the room if you want to sweep?" It came out as a question as opposed to the earnest offer he meant it to be.

@Blot (Sethis) @Zane (Dante)

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X'vir of Brown Oth | Ems of Blue Kapth | Wa'ut of Blue Qith |
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Vatalian of Orange Vatask | Pavir of Blue Pavisk | Setarii of Black Setask
Inali, Havenrute, Navenax, Felrin
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summerrain
 Posted: Jan 4 2018, 07:19 PM
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Caliska groaned and rolled over, throwing an arm over her face as she was roused from sleep by the voice of a new dragon. No, the new Candidatemaster's dragon. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, sitting up slowly while being sure to duck so she didn't bash her head on the ceiling. Again. Her roommate had preferred the bottom bunk the day Basiliare was moved into her room, for whatever reason. Cali had already claimed the top one anyway, so it wasn't like that had mattered too much.

She reached over the edge of her bed and opened the shutters, allowing light to flood the room. She tossed her feet over the edge of the ladder and, as requested by the dragon that was going around sticking her head into their rooms--quite literally--collected her bedding and tossed it on the floor to be swapped with clean things later. The light woke her hound, Kenai, who was curled up in the corner on his own pile of furs. He yawned and stretched his forelegs, then got to his feet and looked up at Cali, tilting his head to one side in a silent question. She raised an eyebrow at him in response, then climbed down the ladder. Despite the air warming, the floor was still cold. She quickly changed out of her sleepwear and into an outfit that may have been considered a bit ragged for normal use, but was perfect for a day of hard cleaning.

"I get the cleaning bit, but why do the wher candidates need to be awake for dragon anatomy?" she muttered to her roommate. "I guess it makes sense to have everyone cleaning at once, but couldn't they make it convenient for all of us, instead of just them?" Needless to say, she didn't like getting woken up so early for a simple thing like cleaning. It wasn't like their room was particularly messy or anything. "Since he's awake, I'm going to take him out before we get into any serious cleaning," she said in a louder voice. "Kenai, heel." His claws clacked softly on the stone as he walked to Caliska's left side, and he followed her dutifully down the hall and around anyone who might have been out of their rooms already. She did, however, stick her head into the currently occupied office.

"Candidatemaster, I'm just takin' my hound out for a bit now that he's awake," she explained before leaving through the building's main door. Better to let him relieve himself now, so he could relax in his corner while they cleaned, rather than having to stop and take him out later.

@Ruriko @Ruin


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RhiaBlack
 Posted: Jan 4 2018, 09:07 PM
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Ulian wasn't Al'dr. While Kyzekeidon didn't expect favoritism in any measure, the proverbial evil he knew was better than the one he didn't. Rivath came with a reputation, one that left Z'dyn's eldest spawn less than thrilled about the proverbial changing of the guard. Couple that with his Grand-Uncle's departure, and what he could read as having happened on his father's face, well....it wasn't a favorable standpoint to the young man in any regard. The fourteen-turn-old was less than pleased, but he also knew that it didn't matter if he liked it or not.

The other option was dropping the program entirely, and he wasn't about to sell off his family history so easily, regardless of how many Impressions to the Stands there'd been lately over the course of the last several turns. He guaranteed nothing. All that was guaranteed, is that he'd Stand until dragons would no longer find him suitable, and then he'd probably find some sort of other work to undertake. Probably drudgework, or look to Journeyman if he really felt the draw.

Frankly, he'd only undertaken his current path because he loved guitar. It was a pleasure, one of very few, that he ever afforded himself.

He had his father's work ethic; chores had already been done as it pertained to those with his name, and he was no slouch when it came to keeping his room clean. Rust was stretched out on His' bed, the pup off in dreamland, chasing wherries across an endless field while Ky worked on brushing out the immense lengths of his hair. He didn't keep lots of possessions by default - also like his father, he kept a very minimalistic lifestyle. No clutter, no mess, proud of his state of kemptness.

The invasive nose, however, was warned away if it got too close to his personal space. The room? Fine. His face, or touching him? Not so much. His father, and his family, Jubilee, and Rust had the birthright by virtue of being his or being related to him. A bit-larger-than-person-sized White? Not so much.

He shot her a glare, but nevertheless got up with a shake of his head and began to do as he was told. The rest of his Candidacy was going to be entertaining, at least.

Aurora, too, was already up, working over her collection of completed items to barter for fresh ore at the next Gather, or pretty things she wanted. Rivath's invasive head was answered with a lifted hand; not to push it away, but to scratch her eye ridges if the White allowed. Aurora didn't mind her. She was eccentric, like many Aur had come to encounter in the Weyr, and she knew the newfound Candidatemaster came with large shoes to fill. The High Reaches transplant's job wasn't to make it any harder, and once she'd put her things away, she sorted out changing out her bedding at least insofar as putting the dirty stuff in the bag, and put the clean ones on top of her dusted-off dresser in order to pull the mattress out and beat the dust out of it, as she and the others were told.

She did her best to help some of the 'weaker' Candidates; after all, it was a little hard for some of the younger kids to be able to do that kind of work, and after she'd finished, she waited until most of them wore out to help them out. After all, she didn't doubt there would be inspections from the Sport-Candidatemaster for everything when they were done with that part.

Another day of chores, another day of lessons, another day that hopefully carried them all closer to the endgame - a dragon and a new life.


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Zane
 Posted: Jan 7 2018, 01:18 PM
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Embry was fairly used to being ordered around at this point, so the whites intrusion was met with a cool stare. If the dog-sized creature wanted to play Queen, who were they to dash her dreams? Snorting in reply as Rivath stormed everyone's rooms, it was Xialas that earned the young mans ire. "Now who needs to shut up?" he replied sharply, working first on gathering the linens on his side of the room. He had already bathed late last night--when everyone else was sleeping. Not exactly one for communal bathing, Embry often waited until he had the pools to himself. A titch sensitive about other people seeing him naked, the young man was not about to oblige for the sake of the white. If she didn't believe him, then that was her problem. "Only thing that needs washing here is sheets and clothes. End of story," he snapped.

While he had heard about the whites unpredictability, he didn't really care. The last Candidatemaster had done little to earn his respect, though he had to admit that he'd heard far better things about Al'dr and Fortath in comparison. He'd had precisely one or two conversations with the bluerider, one of which had more or less convinced him to remain Standing. The change in leadership, as far as the candidates went, was semi-confusing. Even so, it was none of his business. Lessons would carry on as usual, as would chores. His late night excursions would also carry on, same as always. No one could force him to sleep when he was over the age of ten.

Once the boy had gathered his sheets into a tight ball, wrapping his clothes in them as well, he moved over to a bucket of water nearest the far wall. He had filled it this morning so that he could splash cool water on his face. Scrub sand was always hand, mostly because he secretly had a fear of germs. Vigorous about personal care-not that he ever told anyone-Embry got to washing the requested items.

With any luck, he would impress at next hatch. He was tired of thinking about it, seeing as no one knew when another clutching female would fly. If the greens clutched, then there would be little to no issue. Greens flew all of the time--flighty creatures that they were. At the very least, he was learning at Dalibor. He had repeated some lessons, sure, but being around dragons garnered one inevitable knowledge. He'd had some misconceptions about both dragons, and their kin, that was quickly remedied within his first turn of being at Dalibor.

--

Morrigan tended to be an early riser. Not enough day and not enough her to go around. The new Candidatemaster was hardly her concern, though she had to admit her curiosity was peaked. Being the sort to gather information, she'd heard a fair bit about Ulian and their white. Rivath had made quite a scene on more than one occasion, but did it really concern her? Not really. She had gone through countless Candidatemasters in her ten turns of candidacy. She had two turns left to go before she was kicked-out of the program, which would then see her a free woman. She wanted a dragon, there was no denying that fact, but if it wasn't in the fates than she would find something else to do with her life.

Wordlessly, the tall woman got to work. The whites close proximity had her doing little more than yawning. "Not tired," she assured the smaller dragon. There was a mischievous smirk that played across her lips as she finished gathering up the laundry. Cleaning was somewhat tedious, but she couldn't say that she wasn't used to it. She had been cleaning up after herself since she was five. On the whole, Morrigan was hardly the candidate that Rivath had to worry about. What she chose to do in her private-time didn't concern the new Candidatemaster, or anyone else for that matter. She skirted the line between what was acceptable, and what wasn't, and such was simply the way that the smuggler would always live her life.

It had never been an issue before now. The warning she'd received from Al'dr hadn't caused her to so much as bat an eye. She had not been his charge when her "offense" was communicated, so there. Since then, Ruane had been busy with her burgundy dragonet. Emath had grown quickly, and Morrigan could only hope that the burgundy and his rider learned from one another. They had a ways to go, but Morrigan was fairly sure they'd soon have a handle on things. Ruane was stronger than she let on.

@Catsitta @Ruin
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Ruin
 Posted: Jan 8 2018, 03:48 AM
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Betahandler





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ooc: Feel free to continue cleaning RP, this is to give everyone another step to the lesson once they reach that point!

Rivath waited for as long as it took the Candidates to finish their cleaning. She didn't even bother checking, not really. i can tell she whispered into their minds. She had allowed pats and rubs when offered, she'd allowed sour words and typical...what did they call them? Teenager angst and orneriness when that was offered instead of pats. She preferred pats. She had been warned by Ulian that little humans did not appreciate being bossed about because they thought they were big enough to be in charge of themselves. She remembered feeling like that, so she could relate. And what had happened when she had felt in charge of herself? She'd mauled and maimed and...well murdered. She couldn't let the little white-robes murder, Ulian had been very clear about that.

Murder was right out.

When they'd finished she squeezed herself back out the door and danced down to the lake where Ulian had made ready all manner of brushes and bowls of soaping sand, and oil vials and rags. She snorted delicately while falling in beside her Rider and followed their mental directive to spread out her tail and lift up her wings away from her flanks so the gathering children could get a good look. And touch. Or whatever. Ulian reminded her not to get nippy, even if she wanted to 'groom' them back--they weren't dragons. Like she could forget that. They gave her slender neck a pat and turned to face their new charges.

They were dressed somewhat sensibly, for once, having set aside the flowing robe-like dress for clothing that--while not distinguishable from skirt or pants, at least did not drag the ground. Their hair was braided up much like the set of knots that graced each shoulder, one newer than the other and both distinctive in their configuration and golden tassels. "Candidates. You are a commodity, an important resource. Some of you want to be here, some of you do not, and a few of you have passed between the hands of many Candidatemasters during your time as a robe-wearer. My name is Ulian, and this is Rivath, and we were both trouble in our own way to our own 'Master. I am not here to treat you like a resource."

"You have, each of you, accepted a dangerous assignment. To Impress a dragon, or wher, that could accidentally murder you in the process, as well as give up all of your basic rights and pleasures throughout the duration of your stay in the program. You can understand why the Weyr favours Dragonriders and Wherhandlers as Candidatemasters; they have the best chance of telling you why suffering is the logical choice. We can do you one better. You will see a difficult dragon, you will get to know her as she gets to know you, and you will come to understand her past and be part of her future. More than that, you will see what can happen with an unexpected Impression to an atypical partner. You will have to trust me, that you are safe near her, in the same way that you will have to trust each other: Now as Candidates, later as Weyrlings or Wherlings, and later than that as Wingriders or Priderunners."

Rivath hadn't moved, save for the swirl of rainbows in her eyes, and she remained still as Ulian continued. "You are stripped of privilege so that you may learn to master yourselves in the hope that, when the time should come that each of you is partnered, you will be able to master your dragon or wher and form a viable relationship. So, while I will not treat you as a number on the ledger, you will not find any leeway in the rules under my guidance. I must also caution you against trying to pull one over on Rivath, because the Whites always seem to have a way of knowing." They reached out to give her another pat on her neck, the act of which seemed to waken her from the state she'd been in previously and she turned her delicate head to peer at the gathering. "Now that we have introduced ourselves, we'll move on to the lesson. Rivath is smaller than most dragons here at Dalibor, much closer in size to your future newborn hatchlings or adult whers, and far more manageable a teacher of where dirt will accumulate. Where itching and dryness will occur fastest."

"One at a time please step forward and introduce yourself. Rivath will then tell you where you should wash or oil her. Be firm, and do not be afraid to handle her as you would any other large animal you might have worked with. Dragons and whers are very resilient and it's important for you to learn and understand how to touch and interact with them. Their wings are described as delicate, and difficult to heal if injured, but you'll come to find she could swing you in her membrane like a hammock and be none the worse for wear. She seems delicate and fragile, but like even the skinniest of whers you will discover both they and dragons have enormous strength. The ultimate goal in your interactions are to overcome any fears you might have, and find answers for any curiosities you may be harboring about your future hatchlings, so that when the time comes you'll be completely comfortable handling your own dragon or wher."

With that said Ulian stepped aside to give the Candidates ample room to move around the dragon while making themselves available for any questions they might have for them. Rivath, for her part, would be busy introducing them to all the odd parts of a dragon--and similarly a wher--that most non-Riders and non-Handlers (or those who hadn't grown up with them) would be least familiar with. Such as the creases that lay between her hind legs and the base of her tail that could drive a dragon mad from dryness. Or the narrow channels between her neckridges where dirt liked to cling after she'd worn a harness. The digits of her wingfingers could be particularly challenging to clean, and would be even more difficult on a young squirming hatchling. Where applicable she reminded Candidates if they weren't being firm enough, warned them if they were being too sharp on her delicate areas, and encouraged them to go digging for the recesses of her joints where they'd be chasing dirt and dry skin for the rest of their lives once their partner found them.


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Harbinger
 Posted: Jan 8 2018, 03:26 PM
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With linens properly stuffed into laundry - a chore they would probably have to do later in the day when it was a bit warmer - and furs beaten until lost some hair (though that may have been Belior's fluff) Xavinyra went an made her bed. She actually made her bed! It was a miracle! Last thing she wanted was for a white snout to come and demand smooth sheets. Not that they were smooth, but a perfectly tugged fur hid all that.

Sweeping was probably the worst of the chores. Belior had started to blow out her winter coat so there were dust bunnies everywhere. Xavinyra cursed under her breath on a constant basis as every stroke of her broom just caused more dust and fluff to appear. This was a chore she actually had to slow down to finish, lest there be something left behind. Ugh. Lastly she rearranged the papers and quills on her desk, making the mess look like it was intended to actually look like that. Her press was ignored - let Rivath figure out how to open that! - and so Xavinyra called her room complete. Done! Singly she had completed the work of two people. Take that, other Candidates.

Having already bathed last night to remove the grime of the stables, Xavinyra marched her way down the corridor to the general commons and then to the lake. She constantly moved during the lectures, either tapping her hand against her thigh, shifting from foot to foot, crossing her arms or letting them hang. The Candidate could not keep still. She couldn't help but smirk at a few of the less confident candidates at the thought of the danger they were in. Of course, her personal confidence covered her own concern for them. Xav couldn't help but have that bit of worry for the littlest of the candidates.

Back to the lecture. Time to pay attention. Leaning on each other - as long as they could keep up, Xavinyra thought. But if they were good enough for a dragon or wher, they were good enough to be relied on. There was no room for the weak, really. Not when there was Thread to fight, patrols to follow, and who knows what else. When they were released from lecture, Xavinyra was one of the first to step forward, giving Rivath a polite nod.

"My name is Xavinyra. Pleased to meet you," the Candidate said, reflexively reaching a hand out only to realize that there would not be a handshake with the White. Released to continue the lesson, she grabbed a brush and bucket, moving to the White's flank. When soft brushing, like one would use on a runner, wasn't quite enough, she put some muscle into washing the crease between wingsail and flank, doing her best to get all skin flakes and dust off.

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Blot
 Posted: Jan 13 2018, 07:35 PM
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Osario found herself clicking her tongue lightly when the white unceremoniously barged into her room. Her look was level with the white for a moment before she glanced at her side of the room. It wasn’t exactly dirty, persay. The young woman knew the value of cleaning. It was one of the lessons her mother had preached often. Cleanliness and order were cheif among her teachings. But even Osario had a few clothes strewn around when she was trying to put together outfits.
She had to admit, though, she was not quite pleased by this breach of privacy. Could they at least knock? She wondered this, but held her tongue. There was no sense in upsetting the new candidate master or her dragon. So she took to picking up her clothes, pointedly not saying anything to her roommate. It was best to get this all done in silence. Clothes were brought to her bed and neatly folded, all crisp lines and smooth fabric, before being set in her trunk for future perusal.
Osario would hum very softly to herself as she went to grab a broom. It was a song her mother would sing when it was time for them to tidy up the wagons of the caravan. She could remember the words very well, but didn’t trust her own singing voice. She was no harper, after all. Broom in hand she would return to her room, a slight sway to her hips as she sashayed around the room, not really sweeping all that well, mostly just dancing about the room and spreading dust around.
--
Oh. That made sense. Havenrute had a good idea! Sadly their room had become slightly speckled with Sethis’ usual grime. Flour. No matter how he tried to clean himself after working in the kitchens, the boy always found himself plagued by it like a natural snowy covering of glitter. As such that meant there were little flecks of it across the floor, his bed, and even handprints of it on the walls when he was too tired to bother with washing properly before falling into his bed.
A broom was quickly grabbed as he scurried back in his room, not wanting to look like he was dallying any. He felt the white would not be good to provoke, even if he had never heard any of the rumors about her. Sethis didn’t want to provoke any wher or dragon. He at least knew what whers could do when angry.
“I guess I should sweep since I made some of this mess.” He laughed softly. He didn’t mind cleaning. After all, he helped clean the kitchens often. His sweeping seemed better than Osario’s, though he had no song to sing. His mother, while attentive, was rarely where when it came time for him to clean as a weyrbrat.
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Tobes
 Posted: Jan 16 2018, 02:07 AM
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Wingrider





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An unknown voice trickled into his brain, at first working itself into a corner of his dream but suddenly resolving into something of the waking, not sleeping, world. Canterome sat upright in his bed with a start, not quite startled but finding that his heartbeat had ticked up, uncertain in sleep’s haziness whether it would be called upon to fight. He fought often, in his dreams. Or tried to but was beaten down regardless. But a moment’s wakefulness was enough to set him back to comfort—it only a new dragon, and he in a new bed, and there was no danger.

‘At least this one gives you warning before barging in,’ he thought as he rolled out from the covers, his head tilting each time Rivath’s voice piped up again after trailing off. He had not met the Candidatemaster yet, nor their dragon, and so set about wondering just what sort of person and dragon they happened to be while he followed the… instructions was a strong word, but he got the gist of what was needed as Rivath made rounds. By the time the White had reached his room—perhaps a temporary one, he knew he could not expect it to be just his for much longer, a roommate was nearly a guarantee—he was already up and changed into fresh robes, beginning to sort out his flight-crumpled belongings. It was not his first day at Dalibor Weyr, but it was close to it, and no one had thought to check the state of his hygiene before such a point. He did come to a full and sudden halt as the white nose, followed by its delicate head and whirling eyes, poked round the hanging. There was that elevated heart-rate again. But she wasn’t scary, and despite her size she was a mature and Bonded dragon, less dangerous by half than any canine or runner. Or so he assumed, for dragons were supposed to be harmless. Once Impressed. Canterome schooled his emotions back into confidence and bobbed his head politely at the White, not so bold as to reach for her, but clearly heeding her instructions. Though as she turned away to harass the next room over he was thinking that she was such a little dragon, and therefore not much use in the usual ways of her kind, surely.

He did tidy, though there was not as much for him to do as for most of the others, who had had longer to make a mess of things. Even so, it was a slapshod sort of effort, simply going down the checklist of requirements and doing the least amount possible to meet them. Washing himself involved only a few cursory passes with a damp rag, the new linens on his bed were not smoothed or tucked neatly. He didn't have to impress her. It was better to not call any especial attention until he knew the lay of the land better. So when he finished ahead of the others he simply waited, trying to look busy if he thought he heard her approach again. She didn’t bother to check so it didn’t really matter anyway. Her whisper of warning wasn’t worthy of an eyeroll, but he was no stranger to dragons. Sometimes they said things that couldn’t really be true. Sure, there were stories about how empathic Whites could be, but they were just stories. Probably.

Down to the lake they went like wherry chicks following their prancing mother. Canterome kept his expression carefully neutral, though if his eyes were followed it could be seen that he was looking over everyone, everything, with a pointed concentration. Already he was sizing the others up. Sorting them into categories. That one thought highly of himself. That one was shrinking, scared not so much by the White as by his fellows. That one was all business, no pleasure. And Canterome knew that he was younger than a great many of them. A small pang at that--he had had the advantage of having grown up with many of the Candidates at Ista Weyr. His reputation had preceded him. Here, he would have to rebuild that web of connections from scratch. The Candidatemaster was... he was not certain yet. They were exceedingly accomplished if nothing else, and it was a kindness that Ulian was so tall he thought, for the sheer volume of shoulder loops and knots would have been dwarfed them otherwise. And their androgyny was unsettling. It was unlike anything he had known up to that point, and defied categorization, and that was a problem. But he listened anyway, head canted to one side, expressions shifting light across his face. To Ulian and Rivath he would show only undivided attention. To a fellow Candidate that seemed to be looking antsy, he would give a knowing, subtle eyebrow raise, a Can you believe we have to sit through all this? kind of look. But then it was time for introductions, and though he would not go first, he had no intention of lagging. Slipping past the Candidates in front he dropped his head politely at Ulian and their White.

“I’m Canterome. I’m from Ista Weyr.” He lifted his chin a little at that, looking Ulian squarely in the eye, and well-aware that it displayed the two wicked scars on his face to most of the others. Most of them would likely know of the Hatching at Ista Weyr that had gone so horribly awry. He hoped it made him look tough to them, someone you didn’t mess with. His point made, he let his gaze slide away to Rivath and awaited her orders. Wherever it was that she required washing or oiling, she would find him a competent hand at it. She could have fit inside the wing of his father’s dragon. Her skin was more delicate, but other than being on an altogether much more manageable scale, she was not so very different.
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Harbinger
 Posted: Today at 12:31 pm
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Priderunner





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@Catsitta (Zaephor)

The dragon's intrusion was met with a proper, if short, salute from Caelen; he certainly would do his best to get off on the right foot with this new Candidate Master. Especially, he figured, if Rivath would be taking the lead. The Dragons knew best, and if Rivath felt Caelen was a good and proper candidate...

Well, they would have to see.

"Do you have a preference on what parts you do?" Caelen asked Zaephor as he turned towards his roommate. A roommate he never quite gotten to know yet, despite the fact that Zaephor reminded him of his younger brother quite a bit. Caelen just had other things to worry about, and Zaephor had all his own. "If you want to sweep and dust, I'll do the scrubbing," the young man offered, remembering Rivath's comment about the grime between the toes. Who knew how much junk had been tracked into their room. All the better to get it out while they could. "Though I suppose bedding and chests should come first so we don't mop our way into a corner."


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