| Candidacy At Ryslen |
| From his perch atop a tree, Akurei surveyed the Weyrbowl before him. He'd been there for about three weeks. He couldn't really keep track; it was so safe and peaceful (relatively speaking) here the days sort of bled into each other. It was beginning to drive him crazy. He was used to foraging for food, or stealing it when he could, and sleeping on rooftops. It was almost too comfortable for him to take here. Often he would take off for the nearby forest for a couple days, still well within reach of the Weyr though. It was rumoured that Vilemziath's clutch was due to hatch very soon now, and even if he wasn't a candidate for it (the Weyrwoman didn't tell you until the Hatching actually began and you were dumped into a white candidate's robe) he still wanted to watch. He could definitely learn from it. Nimbly he jumped down, landing in the snow with a soft whump. He sniffed in contempt in the direction of the candidate barracks. Many of them were much like the people he'd left behind in M'mkaia; heedless of their priviledges, a few were complaining about the sparseness of the accommodations. Some others merely took such shelter for granted; they had probably never missed a few days' meals or ever had to sleep out in the open, never had to live and survive day to day on the streets, always watching, always fighting to keep your turf safe, to keep your life and few possessions. |
 |
| There were, of course, exceptions. There was, for instance, the girl Autumn. She had an unnatural beauty about her, and her clothing matched her name very well. She kept to herself mostly. Then there was Kelei; she kept mostly to herself as well, but he could see the hidden sorrows in her eyes, from the way she carried herself and her attitude as well. He shivered slightly; no matter what it had been like in M'mkaia, it had never got this bloody cold. Ikara, the Headwoman's second, had given him some new clothes to match the weather. She'd tsked slightly over the somewhat worn condition of his trenchcoat but there was no way he would ever give it up. He knew he stuck out rather badly in this wintry world of white, but he didn't really care now. It wasn't like he was going to be hired to assassinate someone here, and nobody even knew him here so they had no reason to want to kill him. He sighed, readjusting his grey scarf and gloves. He had obtained a pair of sunglasses from the storerooms too, mostly because the snow was so incredibly BRIGHT here. Back in the big city, if the snow lasted, it was either brown or darkish gray. He smiled, remembering the great Winter Flurry that had happened a little while ago. So many dragons and so much excitement! He had never seen such happy bustle in his life! He had nearly frozen himself watching part of the Flurry; the sight of so many beautiful glistening dragons had just been so breathtaking. The shining beauty of the pure whites, the silvers, the occasional flash of colour visible through the snowy haze - it was like magic, only better, because it was real. He wandered down towards the icy lake, smiling at the myriads of flitters daring each other to slide across the slick surface. A pretty blue nearly collided with a brown and had to pop between to avoid collision. He remembered fondly the week of Candidates' Classes he took; he had usually stayed out of them, nearby so he could hear but out of the crowd. That many people all in one place made him skittish; he only really showed up for class when they were going to do a hands-on activity. His favorite two classes had been the days they practiced oiling dragons by helping out with some flaky flitters and when they had gone onto the Hatching Sands themselves, the immense heat making itself felt even through his thick soled boots as they tried to get themselves used to the large, faintly gleaming eggs. He sat down underneath a large tree, whose crisp needle-covered branches kept the snow away for about a two-foot radius around the trunk. He leaned against the thick trunk, sighing contentedly. The trees here were much like the ones in the park in M'mkaia, but they smelled so much cleaner. That was really the only way to describe it. It was so clean here. He rather liked it. Taking off one glove, he inspected his fingers. They felt kind of numb, so he decided to go get some soup from the hearth and investigate what was going on. He put the glove back on, and crawled out from under the tree branches; the snow had made a sort of bank all the way up to the first low lying branches. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and made his way back to the main Weyr, wondering what this day, and the next, could bring. |