Marolan's Weyr As you enter the dark weyr, you thank the golden Faranth that you've finally been able to find somewhere to sleep.  Ah, blessed sleep.  You flop into a chair with a squeak, and suddenly a glow is un-shaded, and a watch-wher bounds into the area. "Shillie, I said get back!" Someone barks, and you glance around hurridly to see the watch-wher barking loudly at someone, and quickly realize that someone is you.  A young girl of around fourteen turns run, and grabs the chain that's attatched to the green's neck, leaning down and whispering softly in the watch-wher's ear.  "I'm dreadfully sorry," She apologizes, stroking the green's head softly.  "This is Shillie, and no, she's not mine.  She's one of those un-Impressed whers, you know, the kind that most Holds have in their lairs so that no one gets too devoted to the wher.  Lately, though, she's sort of become mine." Nodding, and still trying to catch your breath as the green bares its fangs at you, you slowly edge out of the chair and back against the wall.  "Shillie, I said to stop it," The girl repeats, and the wher's growling begins to subside, and she eventually curls up into a ball at Marolan's feet, much like a canine would.  "I am sorry for not introducing myself, but I am Marolan," She says, brushing back her tangled black hair from her green eyes.  You introduce yourself to Marolan, who nods and extends her hand for you to shake.  Smiling, you explain that you were looking for a weyr, and Marolan leads you to another weyr, which is, thankfully, empty.  "Good night," She says, walking out the door, and you don't reply, for you've already fallen asleep. "Yeah, Lilan, did you ever think about us who don't know what it's like to be you?" Marolan demanded of her older brother angrily, stomping her foot on the floor.  "Yeah, you walk around like you know everything, and you pretty much do.  Shards, you have a bronze firelizard who looks to you, and most would kill for that kind of a chance!  Everything is right for you, and everytime something goes wrong, you tell us to look for the good." The young man remained silent, knowing that what his younger sister said was true.  He was, although he hated to admit it, the only one in the family that had a craft-hall talent; he was an Apprentice Smith.  Lilan had done everything right for his parents, and did always say to look for the good things in life.  Marolan, though, hated him for it.  "Well, Marolan, there is some good in the fact that..." "Lay off of it, Lilan, there's no good in anything for me anymore," She spat, and ran back into the cothold.  Bolting to her room that she shared with her other sistersr, Marolan threw herself down on her bed and began to sob.  Why couldn't Lilan realize that he was the only one who had a future?  He was the only one who would actually do something with his life? "Marolan, I'm sorry," A muffled voice came through the door, and Marolan lay on her side, her back to it.  "I really am, and the reason that I said there's something good in the fact that you weren't Apprenticed was that you might be destined for something better." "Yeah, Marolan, destined to be married off to that big lug Panya in two years, that's so much better than being Apprenticed.  Let me tell you about it," She sobbed, pounding her fist into the pillow. "I meant something else, like, say, becoming a dragonrider," Lilan replied smoothly, and Marolan jerked her head up in surprise.  "Yes, Marolan, I mean it.  You could be a dragonrider, you know.  Didn't a Searchrider come a few days ago?" "Yes," She replied dismally, although her brother could hear a spark of hope in his sister's voice.  "Have the names come back?" "Yup.  You, no one else, you," Lilan sighed.  Little did Marolan know that he would of preferred to be on that list, rather than to see her name on it. Marolan didn't reply, but Lilan heard her scraping around for her clothing and loading it into a bag.  He could only hope that something good would come of her being Searched, too. View Shillie View Marolan's Journal View Marolan's Statistics