Exploration (OPEN)

[shouriko]

Daevon ran a hand through his shaggy sandy-blonde hair in mild frustration. Back home he knew all the paths and roads and fields. He knew everything back home and he had learned it so well. Why was he then having difficulty learning about the passages here? Why could he not apply the same skills from home here at the Weyr? He sighed heavily and stopped a moment. Most of the doors had the insignia for all to take part in the insides, they were not off-limits. This must be where the Weyrfolk lived and spent much of their time.

"Allrigh', I think I'm righ' under teh kitchens." Daevon said aloud as he was thinking about how to get back up there.

There were too many corners he had turned since the stairs. He could not possibly go back the way he had come. He was sure to get lost if he tried to. Instead he was trying to remember what was above him. Daevon had learned about what was above him much better and he could recollect the locations with increased ease than his current location.

"I think I'll be goin' this way." Daevon took a left.

[fauxfox]

There were a number of ways to identify a lost individual from those with a sense of direction, like sailors claimed to be able to differentiate shipfish using their splotches and fins. First there were the motions of a man adrift, that hesitating, stuttering falter that possessed their limbs and revolving head in spasms as they lurched from room to room, corridor to corridor, crippling the poor unfortunate whenever they happened upon a divergence in the path. It was in the slightly dazed look to their eyes, roving restlessly in their sockets as if by keeping in constant motion they might happen upon a sign or map, and the occasional furrow of a brow when no such pointer magically appeared. There were more unique nuances, of course, that varied between those astray; the anxious nibble of a lip, perhaps, bunched fists or worrying at a shirt sleeve, and perhaps singular to men was the increasingly frantic gleam in their eyes as the necessity to ask for directions became unavoidable.

But for all his apparent disorientation this tall, tanned instance did not seem particularly nervous. In the moments that Aimry had been quietly observing him from the doorway of the nearby classroom, as the other young man paused to try and gather his bearings, the most he’d detected was a mild kind of irritation. Evidently the stranger was either in no rush to get wherever he wanted to be, he frequently got lost, or losing his way wasn’t such an unanticipated possibility. The fact that the only point of reference he seemed to have was the kitchens above them suggested the latter – and that, perhaps, this person was new.

As the blond young man announced his intentions to go left, Aimry considered leaving him to his misery. Maybe in a few sevendays time, on overhearing talk of an unnaturally tall missing youth, he might casually mention seeing one such lad wander bravely into the unknown, and he’d sing a eulogy to the values of maps and asking directions at his funeral when eventually they found his emaciated corpse (or didn’t). It was the kind of story he’d heard the Weyrbrats whisper about, and he’d always enjoyed ghost stories… “Not unless you want to starve or be eaten,” he called after the stranger dryly, quite on impulse. Aimry rarely raised his voice much and this was no exception; such was the wonder of learning how to project ones voice, and besides, Josef would kill him if he heard his apprentice shout. “The only things you’ll find down there are dragon-lengths of storage tunnels and the Hatching Grounds. But don’t let me put you off.” The young Harper smiled and gestured for him to continue, characteristically sardonic.

[shouriko]

He hadn't taken more than two or three steps. Two actually, the third he was in mid-stride and he halted, his leg hanging slightly as he stopped. Daevon looked over his shoulder, his torso twisting sightly as he did so and he planted the other foot. His eyes scanned the area behind him and there was the owner of the voice that had called out after him. He hadn't seen him before and so felt badly that he had not greeted him, but none the less he gave a smile and turned and approached him the rest of the way, closing the distance easily with his long legs.

"Aye, that be teh wrong way then?" Daevon asked, "My thanks to ye, I'm a bit lost." His smile was a bit sheepish, but genuine and kind, making his blue eyes twinkle. Since introductions were so very important and necessary for polite behavior, he did not hesitate as he said, "M' name's Daevon, I was a herder 'fore search." With that he extended a hand.

The young man who was leaning in the door of a room had dark brown hair, it was straight and a bit on the long side. It looked like he liked it that way. He had pale brown eyes that were calculating and as Deavon looked at them, he felt as if he were being judged. Not that it mattered what was said of him or anyone else, but he felt like here was a person who was not of the same mind as he was. Compared to him and of course his already lost nature, he must look indeed like a regular country folk. He still wore the hardspun wool and worn leather of his home and appeared thrifty in that manner. And from the tone of the other, he must not think highly of him. Daevon didn't think much on it and even then he did not dwell on it long. In the least he could gain his bearings.

"P'haps ya could help me an' show me teh way?" Daevon asked.

[fauxfox]

It was almost comical the way he stopped mid stride and turned his body in portions; first the head, then the torso, until finally his hips followed, as if his considerable form was simply too much to move all at once. On turning the young man retraced his steps back to the Y-bend and further, up to the door against which Aimry leaned, and watching his approach the Harper had to wonder if he often had small children scatter from his path as though from a dragon's landing, fearful of being trodden upon and squashed. By Faranth, the brute was at least a full foot taller than he was, and every bit as Southern in complexion as Aimry was Northern. It was really just as well he had the good fortune to possess such kindly eyes and a worker-drone’s affable accent, numbweed to the majority of people’s trepidation, no doubt. Aimry reserved judgement. He’d met plenty of so-called gentle giants that had turned out to be the bone-grinding, skull-crushing kind.

“Apparently so,” he agreed neutrally, and it wasn’t clear whether he meant it being the wrong way, or that the other young man was lost. But as if Daevon had tripped a switch his reaction to the outstretched hand and introduction was immediate, courteous, and with an underlying sense of finesse in the way that he clasped the offered appendage (not too loose, not too tight), inclined his head, smiled, and replied that was subtly automatic instead of genuinely cordial as the ex-Herder was. “Aimry, apprentice to Master Harper Josef. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Daevon.” And he withdrew his hand neither too quickly nor too slowly than was proper.

It was always intriguing to meet candidates, particularly those Searched. To observe and wonder at what set them apart from their peers that were left behind, whether what made them rider material was tangible or something as unknowable and undetectable as the Searchriders liked to boast. Aimry was by no means jealous; he was a musician, not a fighter as these people – as Daevon – would have to be, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious about what set them apart. Even if Dragonriders were little more than puppets these days, weapons and glorified messengers, it was still a privilege to be Searched and to Impress that many would sell their own mother for. “It’d be rude of me to turn down someone a dragon thought worthy of its attention,” he said, teasingly reverent. “Where were you headed?”

[shouriko]

Well, Aimry was certainly polite as far as people went, Daevon could easily see that. It was not a surprise considering he announced himself as a harper. They were among the smartest and certainly most polite people he had ever come across in his life. Aimry was no different in that respect and he was happy that he was not so snide once they had introduced themselves or even went on about the way he spoke and the like. He was almost sure that his words from earlier had not been very kind.

"I was jus' lookin' 'round seein' as I'm new an' all." Daevon began, speaking easily and casually with Aimry. He was such a nice guy that he couldn't be professional with everyone with he met. And he hadn't met anyone near his age who wasn't a candidate and so terribly excited that they all talked about was impressing bronzes. He needed a bit more intelligent talk before he lost his mind, or at least quiet. "Gotta get my bearings seein' as this is home now."

He looked about the place. This particular spot was new to him which was why he had gone in. He had actually intended to get lost and find his way out one way or another. Usually Daevon found that he had a generally good sense of direction. Granted that was with open sky above his head and here there was nothing but solid rock. He just smiled and ran his hand through his sandy blonde hair and pushed it out of his face, but it simply would not stay and he shrugged, having long ago accepted that this was what his hair did. Instead he turned his attentions back to Aimry and further answered his question.

"I've enough explorin' fer teh day an' I've nowhere in mind, p'haps teh kitchens." Daevon put his hands in his pockets and just sort of shrugged towards the end. He'd been wandering around since past noon when he'd finished assisting the carpenters for chores and it was surely into the evening by now. That meant he'd been walked around for several candlemarks and supper was due, though he didn't feel none too hungry. "If ya could jus' point me in teh right direction that'd be fine less yer be lookin' fer supper too?"

[fauxfox]

The Herder was the friendly sort, personable was the word, and Aimry wouldn’t have been at all surprised if he’d already made quite the positive impression on his fellow candidates and weyrfolk however new he was. People liked to flock to personalities like Daevon – a pleasing irony, given his former profession – bask in the shelter of those all-inclusive smiles and flourish under the care of that easy humour and earnestness. His manners were the kind that made role models, his unruffled airs the sort that mediated men. Within just a couple of minutes of meeting the casual candidate Aimry already wanted to push the guy to the point of seeing whatever grit dwelt beneath the niceness. He restrained the urge – for now, anyway. There was no point making enemies this soon after becoming the man’s acquaintance, he’d not find out anything of interest.

“Home?” he queried with the start of a smile, taking note of the fact that Daevon was apparently one of the newer candidates for later quizzing. That the Herder already considered the weyr home was far more immediately intriguing. Many Searched lads and lasses seemed to merely consider their time among the dragons temporary, unless they Impressed, and intended to return home if they didn’t. “Either you’re confident of Impressing or you plan to stick around whether your lucky or not, and you seem far too nice to be the cocky sort.” Which suggested the latter. Was life in the country really that boring?

Perhaps it was odd of him to be so brazenly probing when they’d barely exchanged names, but tact had never been one of Aimry’s strong points even when he was required to flatter and pander; on his own time he was blasé at best, until he saw the need for charm anyway. “I trust you’d know your way around from the kitchens?” he said, not so much a question as a statement. Having had to do the same three months ago, Aimry knew one of the fastest ways to learn ones surroundings was to have familiar, central places to fall back on in times of doubt, and the kitchen was an obvious one. Shrugging, he glanced over his shoulder to the classroom, empty save for the scores he’d been attempting to study, abandoned on Josef’s desk. “I could eat.” An understatement, really. The new Weyrsinger had snagged his apprentice before he’d had a chance to finish breakfast, and they’d worked through lunch, surviving as per usual on klah. He was sharded if Pern’s klah supplies ever dwindled, he wouldn’t have lasted a day… though he might have got somewhat more sleep. “That is, if you don’t mind my joining you?”

[shouriko]

Daevon wasn't quite too sure how to take Aimry's words. His brow pressed together as he thought and digested the words. Was he confident? Perhaps a little, but maybe it was more because some of the younger boys had been doing nothing but talking of impression that it simply rubbed off on him. Sure, if he didn't impress there really wasn't much for him to do and all the good Master Herders were farther out in Southern where there were less people and mor eland. He would probably try to get back home if he could. Back to his family and friends and the Master Herder there whom he, like so many others, was apprenticed under. That place was very far away and likely even further than Daevon truly knew in that single moment. He'd need to hit a caravan at the right time or buy himself a runner and work as he went. No, saying that the Weyr was home was merely just the kind of person he was. Home was where you made it and right now the Weyr was just that.

"Well, I don't know 'bout dragons much an' I don't know why Y'mer's green liked me, but I'm here an' I best make teh best of it. Teh Weyr's home fer home or fer a long time an' thats that." Daevon replied finally, his face smoothing out as he just let the question slide away. He completed with the last thought he had, "Home's where ya make it."

No, he was not very bright. He was not the smartest or had the neatest hand when he wrote, but that never seemed to matter much to him. What did was what was inside as he had been taught by everyone he knew. It was the strength and will of your heart and Daevon had his virtues and honor to go by with it. True, he might not impress, a dragon might not fancy him, but was the be all and end all of his life? Of course it wasn't, because life entailed so much more.

"Aye, I learned well 'bout the kitchens an' teh like 'round those parts." Daevon gave a nod as he answered, shifting more of his sandy blonde hairs across his brow. It had been one of the first places he had been to as he recalled his first day. It was a busy one. Where to sleep, where to eat, where to wash, where the chores were, where the eggs were, who was in charge. It had been very overwhelming and he had nearly shut down from the weight of it all, but he had remained silent and absorbed it as best he could. Now he was adjusting and the kitchens had inevitably been the start of it all. "'course ya can come eat wit' me, I don't go 'round by myself often an' it'd be nice to be wit' someone who can talk 'bout somethin' other than dragons an' glory." He smiled broadly at Aimry, glad to have company.

"Kitchens, then?" Daevon asked, stepping back and waiting for Aimry to leave the room entirely.

[fauxfox]

For several moments he could have sworn he’d heard the click-thunk-whir of turning cogs and gears as Daevon descended into contemplation, a little pensive line forming between his blond brows as they drew together in thought. It was almost cute, in the way that toddlers scowled when faced with a tricky new quandary – or was it profound, like a brooding Smith considering the dimensions of his work, slow and ponderous, but powerful. If he stood on his tip-toes and took a peek in those baby-blues, would he see play blocks or crafters tools? The distinction remained to be seen, but he hoped for the sake of conversation that it was the latter else this was going to be a painfully tedious supper. Besides, he didn’t fancy the candidates chances at Impression if he was a complete deadglow.

“Very poetic,” he commended, with a dry little quirk of the corner of his lips that passed as a smile where Aimry was concerned. As was so often the case, it was difficult to tell whether he was being earnest or sarcastic – or something in between. “It seems candidacy wasn’t the only talent that was wasted in Herding, there’s a philosopher lurking in there too.” The honest reply probably deserved something similarly sincere in turn, but at least a part of the Harper’s flippancy was probably due to his lack of familiarity on the subject. ‘Home’ hadn’t played much of a part in Aimry’s life for nearly ten years now. He’d visited other peoples homes, entertained or been a guest to the shelter, the homeliness they provided, but always from the perspective of a visitor never a resident. Even the College, which after a Turn and a half he probably had a right to consider it more than just another guesthouse, had only ever fulfilled the basic, objective requirements of a roof, a cot, sustenance, and work. He had no expectations for the Weyr to provide anything more than that, either, and so it was… novel to be faced with someone who already considered his new accommodations ‘home’. Either the man was naïve or this was some strange kind of coping mechanism to being unearthed from his country backwater. Poor kid.

“I’ll try to avoid being so banal, but I can’t make any promises,” he quipped, amused and somewhat grateful that Daevon evidently wasn’t one of those candidates that were going to talk him between with their every dragon-invested hope and dream. "Just wait 'til the betting starts." For half a breath he almost felt sorry for the other young man; if it was bad enough hearing it over meals it must have been worse than Bitran wine to be subjected to egg-talk over in the candidate’s barracks every waking moment. Nodding at the prompt he reached behind him for the door, rummaging in his pocket as he swung the slightly heavy wood closed with a dull click and, finding his key, turned the lock home. Weyrbrats, he’d learned in his short stay at Southern, would grasp any opportunity to create mischief, and there were a number of instruments and books in the room that Josef would belt him raw over if he found any of them missing. Precaution taken, Aimry slipped the key away again and turned to his new acquaintance, hesitating for a moment while he remembered the quickest way upwards.

“Ah, this way,” he said and motioned to the right, crossing his arms loosely as he began walking. “You’ve a good accent. Where is it from?” Though it was not so much a compliment as an observation. Aimry liked accents and voices, the way people’s vocal chords were uniquely strung; he’d moved around too much to have a distinct one of his very own, save for the mild lilt of a Northerner that he was currently trying to down-play or stamp out. There wasn’t a lot of trust for ‘them over the ocean’ down on the Southern continent – though, to be fair, the same applied up North. Xenophobia was all the rage these days.

[shouriko]

Daevon was known for not exactly having a hearty laugh like his father and elder brother, but a more musical one. It left him now as he chuckled at Aimry's words. He? A philosopher? He wouldn't fancy himself anything quite as scholarly as that. It was just a way of life and the manner in which he had been brought up that came out in that moment. "Nah, all that higher thinkin' ain't fer me." He smiled a little shyly then and added, " just how I was raised is all, all of them back home is like that."

He started walking, but did so slowly. Being as tall as he was made him a ground eater so to speak whenever he walked. Shortening his stride was silly to him, but slowing down was not something out of the question. He would hate to get ahead of the company he kept. It would be terribly rude of him to do such a thing. Daevon put his hands in his pockets and walked with ease, as if he had been in the caverns every day of his life and that it was perfectly normal to be walking with Aimry to the kitchens. All he had to do was watch his head on occasion and keep the pace he had set for himself.

"Bettin' ya say?" He asked, eyes widening a bit. Daevon shook his head and sighed at the concept of it. It was really just a waste to him. There was no point in it since no one knew just what a dragon was thinking. Food did seem to be one thing, he had learned that the day he had been searched and the memory made him smile a bit. "I'll be leavin' that to teh younger boys."

He walked along with Aimry, who had his arms across his chest. He seemed a bit defensive like that, but it was all right. It was not as if they were best friends and the like. Daevon had come to understand that not everyone was trustworthy and likewise, not everyone was trusting. It made him stick out like a sore thumb. As if his height, dress, mannerisms, and speech were not enough, his very own thoughts and actions were as well. It was strange for him, too, to find himself in a place where so few people relied on each other yet their entire existence was based on their cooperation with each other. Daevon would never come to understand it. Was it really so hard for people to live the same way he had in Holds and Weyrs?

"Eh?" Daevon looked at Aimry in that moment. "Well, Gaskin be teh Hold closest and there be a cothold 'tween our commune an' Gaskin." He tried to find a way to describe just how far he was. "Awfully South 'n' West o' here when ya think on it. Y'mer had said it was several sevendays from teh Weyr an' I know we're a sevenday from Gaskin 'lone." He really was from out in the middle of nowhere, wasn't he? In truth, getting back home would take a turn in the least no matter how he looked at it lest he got a rider to bring him back.

[fauxfox]

The laughter made the apprentice tilt his head just a fraction, surprised and gratified to hear such a musical sound from his giant acquaintances throat. Considering his size and his accent, Aimry would have expected more of a guffaw or a belly-laugh from the amused candidate, something a guy might feel reverberating in his bone marrow or gut, but he was always pleased to be surprised. Except for when he was wrong. Despite the tuneful humour Daevon was almost shy in his disagreement, hinting at a well of modesty behind that amiable denial. Was everyone back home like that? Friendly and placid and humble, that is, because if so the Harper was going to have to promise himself never to step foot in the place – for both his and for the isolated communities sanity.

“Sounds a sensible place,” he said, a throw-away comment, really. In reality Aimry wondered if it was one of the most blissfully naïve places in all of Pern, the kind where people kept their doors open at night and invited strangers into their midst as though they were long-lost relatives. Maybe he was a cynic, but the boy also considered himself a realist, and the fact that people like Daevon and his ilk existed did not fit in with his world view. He might even do the tall youth a favour by introducing him to the reality of the world and the people in it – namely that they were all nastier than a rabid feline behind those polished, kind veneers. As it was his acquaintances benevolence was already grating in its wrongness, and Aimry did so very like things to be right.

“I’ve heard its tradition,” he shrugged on the subject of betting, glancing across to the apparently disapproving candidate with a light smirk. “You think it’s just the candidates that debate the odds? Only reason half the weyr isn’t peering from the stands is because Vandyith would have their heads off. Come tomorrow I’ll have half a mark on you Impressing brown.” Aimry had nothing against gambling even on unknowable odds. Who after all could say what could hatch let alone who they’d choose for their lifemate, but he liked how riled up some Weyrfolk seemed to get about their dragon fortune telling. Some even claimed to have a ‘knack’ for it. The same people were rather put-out about the Queen’s lack of humour since her rider was… incapacitated, sharding spoilsport. Faranth only knew how she’d treat the unfortunate candidates when the time finally came; maybe all this betting was in vain, and no-one would survive to Impress at all. Perhaps he ought to put money on it.

If Aimry looked defensive it was probably because without a need to perform or please, he was. With a sideways look Daevon set about explaining exactly how remote his little homestead was, while the younger lad reflected that it was really no wonder that accent of the other’s was so novel. Rukbat was closer than this guy’s family. He wondered if he detected a hint of homesickness, or whether he merely expected a hint of it when there was none. The ex-Herder was certainly comfortable with his surroundings for someone so very far from home and the world he knew, striding along at Aimry’s side as if he didn’t just get lost, and as if he wasn’t restraining his pace for the smaller boy’s benefit. Definitely brown material.

“Brave of you to pack up everything and move back to civilization for the chance at a hatching,” he observed impassively, leading Daevon left down another corridor. The staircase should be emerging around the corner any minute now if he’d got his bearings right, and the Harper went on to enquire wryly; “How’s the culture shock coming along?” Personally, the idea of going from a tight, familiar commune to a place where half the residents probably only knew one another by face sounded the very definition of ‘alienating’. It probably didn’t help that Lidal Hold, possibly Southern’s largest, was right next-door.

[shouriko]

Sensible? Was back home really a sensible place? Daevon wasn't too sure if that was the best word to describe it. Everyone knew each other, for shards sake they all lived together and grew up together. Anyone new was quickly ushered into the community. They were friendly and honorable folk who were earnest and honest hard workers. Their enemies were the weather, the wild, and the felines. It was a different kind of hard life than here. Daevon looked at Aimry and just shrugged at his words. Sensible seemed to fit Aimry more than he. It fit the Weyr more because it was sensible to live in numbers and safety, and it was sensible to live out of the wild and closer to Holds. They were the frontier and the frontier was never sensible.

He did smile though as Aimry spoke of the betting and what he thought he would impress. "We'll jus' see then won't we?" Daevon considered what he had heard about the dragons, their colors, and their personalities. He didn't know what he would impress and he didn't know if he even would. "I think I'm gamblin' 'nough by bein' here an' all. I won't gamble on that. I 'preciate your confidence though." His smile was just as bright and he looked down at Aimry kindly. He gave him a thumbs up and said, "I've still lots to learn an' all, but I'll be givin' it my herders best."

Being optimistic was the best way to be and he was surprised he was so talkative. Maybe it was because he truly was worn out by the other candidates. Or perhaps because there were just so many people here that you could not avoid speaking with them. There were no ovines, herdbeasts, or runners around and hardly any canines or domestic felines. People were the herding animals here and they went about in their self-appointed herds and seldom interacted with the others. He could not do that. He didn't have a herd here. Daevon just looked ahead and tried to find his place amongst the rest of them, but he was restless and uneasy at night and he missed the quiet of the country. Still, he had made a choice and he would follow it through.

"Heh, shockin'." Daevon answered simply. That was the first thing to come to mind. When he had arrived he had so many questions and was so lost and confused about the entire place. He hadn't seen so many people sine Gaskin's last Gather that he had been able to attend. The rules were different, the honor code as well, and he found himself immersed in an entirely different culture. It was indeed shocking. "I was a might bit overwhelmed yer can say. Righ' took me a day or two to get used to it all, but I ain't no quitter. I'm givin' it my herder's best whether it's good 'nough or not."

It was in that moment when his voice rang strong and true and his tone was firm, the the determined gleam in his blue eyes could be best seen. Usually he just went with the flow and with new things he slowly acclimated. Here he did not have that luxury and he was determined to adjust. It was hard, it would take time, but Daevon would indeed try his best.

[fauxfox]

Daevon didn't appear to agree with his brief assessment, and he couldn't tell whether this was that modesty of his kicking in again or whether the young man genuinely didn't believe that sensibility had anything to do with his homestead and its people. Aimry wouldn't have known either way; he'd never travelled that far outside of civilization (thank Faranth) and as such knew little about the challenges and culture of the wild, wild south. The Harper didn't like not knowing, or being ignorant in any part of his education for that matter - unless he was being intentionally close-minded - and so made a note to fill in that unsightly gap, even if it meant further quizzing his new associate. The Herder did, after all, possess the firsthand knowledge. It could prove useful to know how the furthest outposts considered their Overholder's control, too, but perhaps that was a line of inquiry better left for later.

“You’re the first candidate I’ve met that hasn’t immediately started boasting about their chances. It isn’t confidence, its hope,” he deadpanned. Better someone like Daevon Impressed and was grateful for it than have to put up with some proud wherry’s ‘I told you so’s’ for the foreseeable future. Herder’s best. The expression made him smile a little morbidly. Would that be the epitaph on the man’s headstone after some half-witted hatchling mauled the life out of him or, if he Impressed and survived Weyrlinghood, after a fully grown, Northern Weyr’d half-wit did the same in Battle. He had to wonder if any of the candidates had really thought it all through, beyond the whole ‘yay dragon’ aspect, so to speak. Aimry may have been a tool, but at least he wasn’t a tool they sent out to do battle with other tools. No, he was just expected to watch, lie, and dish the dirt on perfectly nice people like Daevon. Thank Faranth?

“Stairs, to your right,” he prompted, finding it rather difficult to lead the guy by example alone. The scent of food, of meatrolls and stew, freshly baked bread and tubers, became detectable on the breeze floating down from above, and Aimry shifted his crossed arms slightly lower to strangle the grumbles his famished middle threatened to voice. Ascending the stairs he inclined his head slightly over his shoulder to indicate he was still listening as they climbed, though he was glad to hide his expression when the candidate erupted into his very own personal pep-talk, his raised eyebrows giving his scepticism away. Aimry didn’t believe in the power of self-resolve in much the same way that he didn’t believe in optimism or praying to Faranth; they were all about as effective in the long run as each other.

“I’ll be sure to spread the word,” the apprentice said sardonically. As if all the other white-robed hopefuls weren’t going to be doing their ‘herders best’ right alongside him. At the top of the curving stairs they took a left towards the sounds of cutlery, pots, and pans, the scent of cooking crafts by now strong and fragrant. “Recognize where you are?” He asked, expecting an affirmative. They were on one of the main access routes to the ever-busy kitchens, even if the smells and sounds of the place managed to completely bypass the tall youth.

[shouriko]

"Say, I been down these earlier t'day." Daevon said when they reached the stairs.

He stopped at the bottom and remembered walked by the stairwell and thought about seeing where they went and what was there. That was how he had gotten down there in the first place. He had gone to the left and apparently made a huge circle, granted with a few extra windings through other passages, before he had come to the 'y' where he had first heard Aimry. Really, if he had just gone one way than the other, then he would have reached these stairs and remembered where he was. He felt so entirely stupid for it and in a way he was ashamed that he was not smarter. The harper had taught them all that he knew and he learned everything else from the resident Master Herder, but that was nothing compared to those in Holds. In a way Daevon knew he was far behind everyone else. His life had revolved around the survival of the animals that led to his own survival, reading, writing, and numbers were necessary, but everything else became fluff. Fluff that here was apparently quintessential to Weyr and Hold life.

"You could say I know righ' where I am now. Sorry to take up yer time, least if yer hungry you can eat, eh?" Daevon's tanned face was a little rosey as he apologized. Aimry didn't have to help, but he did and more than that, he had walked and talked with him. This could be a big inconvenience for him and he was only being polite, but none the less, manners came first. "Thanks, Aimry."

He followed Aimry up the stairs, watching his head until they reached the next floor. Daevon stretched his arms up over his head and headed towards the kitchen. He knew where he was and had absolute confidence on where he was and where he was heading. It was a good feeling, but he did not walk too fast Aimry was still with him. He turned back to the younger man and asked, "So why're you a harper, Aimry?"

He'd talked about himself enough, it was only right he ask about his new friend.

[fauxfox]

Well, thank Faranth for that. Supper was one thing, guiding the newcomer around the entirety of Southern was quite another. Glancing upwards he found the candidate’s sun-bronzed face slightly pink as he gave his sheepish affirmative, his voice heavy with apology. Aimry couldn’t help but find it ironically pleasing that despite his training, as all Harpers were, in the importance of manners and cordial behaviour, Daevon’s honest courtesy achieved effortlessly what he (and Josef for that matter) had to feign. But the inconvenience of escorting his fellow youth wasn’t nearly as dire as the candidate seemed to think, and Aimry was usually easily frustrated with his fellow man. If anything he was grateful for the excuse to rest his aching eyes and sate his gnawing stomach – and the company? Well, he could stand to make some allies around the weyr.

“It’s no problem. You would have made your way back one way or another.” Taking a corner, he turned into the kitchens, heading straight for the pot of klah. It had been one of the first things he’d had to memorize upon arriving those few moons ago, and thankfully the Weyr kept a constant supply on the go for its addicted weyrfolk and riders. Taking the lid from its perch he let the heady aroma roll over him for a second before looking around for the ladle and a clean pair of mugs. “I needed a, uh, break, besides.” The word slipped of his tongue uncomfortably, as though alien. ‘Break’ did not figure in his vocabulary very often, but the advantage of living in such a large place was that Josef’s attentions weren’t trained solely on Aimry’s work and progress for once; the Weyrsinger had ‘brats to terrorize (or rather, be the victim of) now.

The question didn’t take much thought but the apprentice paused while he was required to stand on his tip-toes to reach into a cupboard for a couple of mugs, not that he would have asked for the taller man’s help even if he hadn’t managed to grasp them. Turning, he handed Daevon a mug, shrugging; “I’ve got a gift with music.” Not a boast, nor particularly modest, either; Aimry was simply stating a fact. “Me being a Harper made sense.” Finding the ladle he swirled the pot before spooning his mug full of the revitalising liquid, returning the tool to the pot. Maybe if things were really that simple he’d have been in a College now, not the sharding Weyr.

ooc. urk. fail post is fail.

[shouriko]

Daevon nodded in agreement as they walked together. He stuck with Aimry because they were going to in the least sit and eat together. After that there was not going to be much else to keep them together and it would not be too much of a bother. He would certainly greet Aimry if ever he saw him, but he was not certain if Aimry would do the same. Daevon was a rather fair judge of people, but thus far Aimry had been pretty quiet on his end of the conversation and much of what he said could have either been serious or a passive attack on Daevon's character.

"It's always good to take a break now an' again." Daevon said, fully agreeing that Aimry probably needed the break just as much as he needed directions to help him along. Granted Aimry probably knew all about that, but he wanted to help if he could. Whatever else there was to do with harpering, he might not have a clue, but there were some things that everyone should do no matter what your trade. "Helps to clear yer mind an' all, might help you a bit wit' what yer doin'."

He accepted the mug that Aimry had gotten, though he could have gotten it himself. It would not have been of much difficulty, but he had the feeling that Aimry did not like asking for help. Also, from the delighted way he looked and drank his newly acquired klah, he thoroughly enjoyed and liked the stuff. Daevon preferred fruit juice, but klah was fine every now and again and he filled his mug and took a sip. It was almost a staple to the diet in many places, even back home, but nature provided plenty of fruit for him to avoid it on occasion. He started towards the table with the platters and snagged a dish as he went along. The klah he could do without, but he simply had to eat.

"Mmm, and what 'bout teh music? You sing? Play somethin'?" Daevon asked as he snagged a few items, rolls and cheese and meat from wherries and others, a few tubers and fruits as well. He turned to Aimry and asked, "D'you like bein' a harper?"

[fauxfox]

In theory Aimry quite agreed, breaks were ‘good to take now an’ again’, but putting such an ideal into practice was quite a different matter. A workaholic by choice and by coercion the Harper had a system for taking respites; he’d rest when his voice gave out and he’d sleep, as the saying went, when he was dead. Or close to. He got bored easily, anyway, and when there wasn’t work to fill his hands he tended to find less noble pursuits to entertain his attentions; things unbecoming of an upstanding young apprentice. Perhaps it was the waywardness that so attracted him.

But unless this break was going to magically imbue him with the ability to read easier, he doubted it was going to help beyond the basic refuelling capacity. “Won’t be getting many breaks if you make it past candidacy, from what I hear.” The older riders, particularly the hidebound, were only too keen to tell anyone that would listen about the challenge, the suffering that was involved in weyrling training, whether the unfortunate ear was connected to a candidate or not. As if no-one ‘these days’ was good enough to impress one of their precious dragon and make it very far. Still, he supposed it was the prerogative of the older generation to doubt the capabilities of the younger. Slipping a dish from the same pile as Daevon, he followed the young man to the food table, surveying the dishes with the incisive air of a picky wherry.

“Singing, mostly, but I play too. The fiddle and a couple of others,” he finally seemed to find something to his tastes, picking out some salad, fish, and fruits. Balancing his plate and klah he continued through to the dining hall, pausing to scour the room for a favourable table. It was rare that the hall was empty and this was no exception, with at least half the tables filled with gossiping weyrfolk and riders lounging at leisure. “What’s not to like? I get to travel, flaunt my talents, make the acquaintance of pleasurable company such as yourself…” Trailing wryly off he gave the Herder a fleeting, sly, grin, before nodding to a free table nearly and heading towards it. It wasn’t really a straightforward ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, though he wouldn’t have given an honest answer to his own mother, let alone someone he’d known for hardly half a candlemark.

[shouriko]

Daevon just chuckled at Aimry's words. He never anticipated having many breaks or much time for him to do whatever he wanted. His entire life was like that by the time he was fully conscious of himself and was able to wander around on his own. His life had been full of work with animals, cleaning, guarding, and all sorts of maintenance. He actually liked being busy, but he had to admit that there were times when you just needed to stop and step back from whatever you were doing. Working nonstop was not healthy for the mind or the body.

"I can't wait fer it, I miss teh work a bit." Daevon replied with a smile. He had to be optimistic about things, otherwise no one would ever accept being a candidate. Nothing, no matter what it was, was entirely glorious. "Nothin' worth doin' is easy, eh?"

Maybe Aimry just didn't understand because he had not been raised he had. He did not have the background or the experiences that Daevon did. He wasn't going to push it on him, it simply was not right to do so, but if he could help him to understand than he would. He sat down at the table that Aimry had indicated and he set himself up, utensils placed together, mug at the top corner of the plate and then when a drudge came by with some cups of fruitjuice to offer, Daevon accepted it, glad for the juice. He felt quite set for supper and he smiled at Aimry.

"You like playin' an' singin' fer others? Will I see you doin' so at Gathers an' teh like?" Daevon asked, interested that Aimry did not only sing but play the fiddle. He liked that one the best of all the others he had heard. It could be played fast and had a tune that was fancied for dances back home. "Heh, I ain't much pleasure, jus' along teh way. Though back home they say paths cross fer a reason."

[fauxfox]

Maybe they came from two very different walks of life but Aimry could at least empathise with that; the workaholic drive to keep ones hands busy, ones mind sharp with activity. Anything less not only guaranteed boredom but threatened banality. The apprentice had stayed with herder folk before on his travels, though never quite so far out as Daevon’s family, and always found them a hardworking breed of people, hardy as the seafarers of Tillek or the miners of Crom. Aimry’s was a different kind of diligence; reluctant but obsessive. Nothing ever came easy, and if it did there was a catch.

“And it doesn’t bother you, what will be expected of you eventually? To fight dragon against dragon?” It’s a blunt and unforgiving question but Aimry doesn’t pull his punches, honestly curious how the gentle giant validated his part in the war, if he did Impress. He’d never seen a battle himself, but he’d heard tales of their ferocity, and seen the scars of riders and dragons around Southern who’d survived attacks. It was one thing to experience the supposed bliss of being deemed a worthy lifemate, but dragons these days were little more than weapons, scouts, and messengers – and in Southern’s case, slaves to the whims of the Lord Overholder. Daevon didn’t seem so simple that he’d come to the Weyr ignorant of the fact, which meant he’d obviously come to terms with the possibility of playing a role in someone else’s war.

“Depends who I’m playin’ an’ singin’ fer.” He shrugged, mimicking the Herder's pleasant accent with a smile. “Gather days, hatching feast, boring evenings here at the weyr; it’s a Harper’s obligation to entertain on request.” Sliding into the chair opposite Daevon he took a couple of mouthfuls of klah, enjoying the play of spices over his tongue, before placing his mug to the side and reaching for his cutlery. “Let us hope that fateful reason is a blessing not a burden.” The apprentice said, taking a mouthful of fish and salad. He wasn’t a guy who believed in fate or destiny, Aimry believed a man made his own choices and suffered the consequences whether he deserved them or not – and quite often as a result of other peoples stupidity. Life wasn’t fair and it wasn’t planned, but that didn’t stop people hoping for the contrary… unfortunately.

[shouriko]

That was a heavy question for Aimry to ask. Daevon had started eating and as he chewed he thought about it. He was not one for fighting, but if there was merit in it, if it was for an honorable cause, then he would put everything he had in it. He would support his leaders and believe in them and be happy with that. Yet, if that were not the cage, he would indeed be resistant. He had fought with animals every now and again, but he already knew that would be no where the same as the battles with dragons in the skies.

He looked a little troubled as he replied, "It comes wit' teh territory, but so long as there's honor in it, I'll do it wit' pride. I don't like fightin' much, but if it's to protect others, then it's okay." Daevon smiled a little then. He wouldn't want anyone back here to get hurt and he would gladly put himself between them and harm if he could. His smile didn't last long as he added a concern he had from things he had heard from others whispering thinking that he couldn't hear. "There's rumors that Lidal wants to attack teh North, but I don't see why."

Daevon continued with his meal for a little bit after that. Aimry knew that being a Harper was for entertainment, but they were also scholars. Surely he knew a great deal and was continuing to learn even now and would in the future. In a way Daevon both admired and was a bit jealous of Aimry. If he could have had such a like, people wouldn't think him so simple, common, and unintelligent. He was well aware how others thought of him and he was hurt by it. Though they thanked him for his work and efforts, he knew full well that they did not think him the brightest wherry in the nest. They even questioned why he was searched at all, because what dragon would choose a dimglow like him. Daevon would smile regardless, but he would then think on it himself. Did Aimry feel the same way, only in the opposite, that he was small and weak and only his brain made up for it?

He smiled and laughed a little. Aimry did a pretty job of parroting his accent. "Well, you helped me outta teh tunnels, I owe you an' maybe then we'll see, eh?" Daevon winked a bit and took a long swig of his fruitjuice. Only time could tell, but since Aimry had been good to him, he would pay back the harper tenfold.