"I'm so sorry about that! Are you alright? She didn't bite you, did she?" The stream of questions comes from the young man sitting on the bed.
"No, no, just a lot of...slobber." You reply, wiping your damp hands on your clothes. Then you glance up to get a proper look around you. The room is fairly sparse, with a single bed and a single table, as well as an open chest containg a pile of clothes. A blanket-lined basket serves as a bed for the canine, who now watches you warily from her bed.
Your gaze turns to the boy sitting on the bed. You estimate he's probably around average height, (though it's hard to tell sitting down) and he's muscular without being particularly big or burly. He has auburn red hair framing a striking, alabaster-white face; his skin is nearly colorless. The boy looks to be around fourteen or fifteen, with hazel-gold eyes.
"I'm sorry about Meluca," He is saying, "She was a guard canine until she got arthritis, but she still tends to be protective of me. Anyway, I'm Nymaron." He holds out a hand, and you shake it, while telling him your name.
"I take it you're a candidate here?" You ask.
Nymaron nods. "For Aureliath's clutch. I just got here two days ago."
"Oh really?" You ask, interested. "Is that when you were searched?"
"Well...not exactly." Nymaron explains. "You see, my mother's a brownrider, so I've spent lots of time in and around Weyrs. The rest of the time I spent with my foster parents-they couldn't have kids of their own, so they kind of spoiled me." He says with an embarressed laugh. "I didn't really want to bond a dragon at first, I was happy just helping out around the Hold."
"Why wouldn't you want to bond a dragon? You said your mother was a rider, I'd have thought you'd be excited about standing." You ask curiously.
Nymaron looks sheepish for a moment, then explains. "Well...I kinda have a fear of dragons. Wierd, I know, since I grew up around them, but I still really nervous. That's what lead to my coming here to stand, actually. Everyone says I can be real stubborn when I want to, and I decided I would just have to get over my fear of dragons." He shrugs. "I figured, the best way to do that would be to stand. I was able to talk my mother into taking me here, and they let me stand for the clutch."
An admirable way to get over your fears, you think to yourself. You glance over at the canine in her bed. "How long have you had her?"
"Meluca? Well, I've known her since she was a puppy, but she didn't really become mine until she developed arthritis in her legs and had to retire from guarding. My foster parents let me keep her as a pet." He thinks for a moment. "She's probably about...ten or eleven turns old now. She's been a bit cranky since the flight to the Weyr."
"Well, it was nice meeting you, Nymaron." You say, getting up to leave.
"You too." He replies. "Wish me luck at the hatching, okay?"
