Curled up in one of the chairs, right off to the side, Ilesyn has a basket of laundry beside her - studiously ignored - and a hide in front of her, which is read with much interest. She's evidently picked up a few extra pairs of socks, for she's not wearing shoes, and her feet are thickly clad, obviously keeping her warm to some extent.
C'daer comes out from the infirmary, carrying a stiff hide folder that bulges with scrolls and hides. He moves towards the hearth chairs, greeting cheerfully, "Hello, Ilesyn," as he comes around the back of one and sinks into it.
"C'daer," greets the Mindhealer-candidate, without lifting her gaze from her hide - though she stretches out her legs, nudging her laundry basket in front of her so that she can drop her feet, unceremoniously, into the pile of unfolded, but clean, linen. "You're not sick, I hope."
"What? No," Daer answers, edging a confused look Ilesyn's way. "Had you heard I was?" He stuffs the folder into the chair between his body and the arm, pulling a hide from it at random and laying it over his lap.
"You came out of the infirmary, is all," remarks Ilesyn, finally lifting her gaze to rest upon C'daer. "Having not looked at you, and having heard no more than two words from you, I found it hard to tell." She sets her hide back down upon her lap, wiggling her toes into the laundry.
He waves his hand at the folder. "Oh. No, I'm reviewing hides for the weyrlings, to pick dragonhealing documents for their reading assignments." The weyrlingmaster wrinkles his nose slightly, "Preferably ones without gruesome illustrations."
Ilesyn glances towards the folder, remarking with only a quiet, "Ah. I see." Tilting her head to the side, she adds, after several moments of silent pause, "You're not a fan of the gruesome illustrations? Don't they at least illustrate well the harsh reality?"
"They, um." Daer pauses, and pretends to busy himself sorting through them. "No, I don't like them," he responds. "I'm only looking for basic dragonhealing things, common and not life threatening injuries, anyway. What I want to do is compile that into a basic guide, and get a Harper."
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Ilesyn observes, her own gaze returning to the hide within her lap, although she doesn't appear to be reading, "but don't you want to prepare them for what could happen, rather than coddling them because you don't like it? If it were /me/, I would get one of those retired riders with only one legs, and a lifemate who can't fly, to come talk to them. Perhaps not for that lesson, but certainly at much the same time." She pauses, to add, "Will you get Sanriel, then?"
C'daer glances up, explaining almost tentatively. "No, what I want to do is to have the basics all written up for each of them, as a gift. So that when they're graduated, they have a handy reference on what they should do for small injuries, if it's serious enough that they should go to the dragonhealers, and such. Sanriel, only if she wants to, I was thinking someone who specializes in copying though."
Accepting the explanation with a short bob of her head, Ilesyn remarks, "That seems reasonable enough, I suppose." Out of the blue, she adds - seemingly leaving behind her tirade of sorts - "It seems to me like it'd be an awfully boring job, to specialise in copying."
"You know, it -does-," Daer answers thoughtfully, tapping a finger on the hide. "I mean, I'd do some copying for the Hold recordkeeper so he'd let me read some of the records, but doing the same thing thirty times over.. Well, they must have some reason, don't you think?"
"Probably the kind of person who was desperate to be a Harper, because of the /romance/," Ilesyn sneers the last word, shaking her head, "But was hopeless at music, and everything else, so got trained to copy things. I'd rather do chores for the rest of my life."
He shakes his head, "I don't know. I'd think it more likely to be someone who's obsessive about things like that. No romance in copying, that's for sure." C'daer presses his lips together, amused, and glances over at Ilesyn. "None in being a Healer, either, I'm sure. No daring rescues, no amazing life-savng techniques?"
"Mmm," agrees Ilesyn. "I suppose. One of those perfectionist types, I guess. The kind who'd make an art out of the formation of each and every letter." Shaking her head, the healer adds - with something resembling mirth, "Absolutely not. Romance is not something I look for in an occupation. Mindhealing - and even normal healing, though some will swear otherwise - is not at all as exciting as the stories make it out to be, as you know quite well, I'm sure."
"Indeed," he agrees, laughing softly. "Oh, by the way, Avila seems to believe that you've fallen for me. I, um, we sort of got into a fight about the underwear, though. So if you don't want to keep doing it, that's okay, except it would still be worth it teaching her a lesson, I think."
Ilesyn's expression turns almost proud, a satisfied expression drawing itself into place upon her lips. "I rather thought she'd fallen for it. Tell me more about this, fight though? Why would that change my mind over whether I want to continue or not?"
C'daer peers down at the hides in his lap. "Well, I think I convinced her that they aren't mine. It was sort of in the middle of the living cavern, though." Red flushes his cheeks. "Um, anyway."
"In the middle of the /living cavern/? You really were sensitive about them, weren't you?" Ilesyn's nearly dumbfounded, shaking her head back and forth with some measure of amusement - but also surprise. "I'll try and ask her for them anyway, in the vain hope that perhaps they are yours after all. I'd still like to teach her that lesson, I think."
He continues to blush, faltering as he explains, "Well, you see, she brought it up, and was talking all about how I was cheating on Miake, in front of people. So after that I couldn't just ignore her or try to take it somewhere more private, because they'd all think what she said was true."
Ilesyn's gaze narrows slightly. "You have talked all of this out with Miake, haven't you? I don't want /her/ hating me, because she thinks I'm trying to steal you, or something equally ludicrous."
Surprised, Daer shakes his head, "No, I haven't. We've both been busy, and I mean, she shouldn't have a problem with it, she doesn't want Avila babbling any more than I do."
"I'm sure she won't have a problem," agrees Ilesyn, nodding her head. "But if Avila comes storming up to her, telling her that I'm trying to steal you, well, she may not be particularly happy."
C'daer nods once, concurring. "I'll tell her tonight. Good idea. I don't think Avila's tried to talk to her about the underwear, though." He shrugs, and settles down in the chair more comfortably. "Who knows, with women."
Ilesyn crosses one ankle over the other, burrowing the toes of the bottom foot under the linen in her basket, whilst her hands fold tidily atop the hide in her lap. "You speak about us as if we're an entirely different species," she comments, tipping her head to the side. "Though Avila-- well, she might well be."
Amused, Daer answers with a tilt of his head to one side, "I always sort of just figured you -were-. How else to explain it?" He glances towards the laundry basket, and inquires, "Feet cold?"
"We're not so different," Ilesyn assures, glancing down at her feet with a placid smile. "But the subtle differences in our makeup show themselves rather drastically different, in practice. Little girls bully each other psychologically; little boys bully each other physically. Fascinating, really." Nudging aside one of the linens with her big toe, she adds, "Not particularly. I just like the feeling of having weight, no matter how small, on top. It feels more secure."
C'daer's eyebrows rise. "More.. secure? I see." He shakes his head and quickly looks away, back to his hides; he nows pulls several more out, stacking them and leafing through them. "Will you be studying that in the weyrlings, too? The differences between the sexes? I've always wondered if it would be different to be matched to a dragon of the opposite sex."
Ilesyn's smile is amused, even at herself. "I have my own little quirks, same as anyone else. Human nature." Stretching her toes, then flexing her fingers, she adds, "I'll have to add that to my list; I imagine that would be an important point to consider. It would be, I believe, a difficult adjustment to get used to a male presence within ones mind, if one were female. And the other way around, of course."
"Especially mating flights," Daer adds with a flickering expression of disgust. "That would just be weird." He puts a hand on the hides in his lap to hold them in place as he stretches forward to grab and drag a footstool into place.
"Being the chaser, rather than the chasee? I don't think so. Then again, I do the chasing already as it is." Ilesyn flashes C'daer an amused smile, his disgust drawing a further twitch to her lips. "You've been a rider for how long?"
C'daer leans back after firmly planting both feet on the footstool. "Four turns," he answers gruffly. "Why? Does it make a difference?" A particular hide seems to catch his eye and he lifts it in front of his face, obscuring her view of him.
Ilesyn makes an attempt to lift herself higher, to see C'daer again, but failing that, settles back down onto her chair comfortably. "Four turns. And you're still not entirely comfortable with the idea of mating flights, or all of that, are you?"
From behind the hide, he replies shortly, "I like mating flights just fine, when it's a girl riding the green. All right?" He mumbles something under his breath, very quietly.
"How would you feel, if you discovered that someone you considered to be a friend was homosexual?" Ilesyn queries, pursuing the topic with interest.
"What, you mean like K'dir?" Daer peeks out from behind the hide, suspicious. "I don't care as long as they don't look at me funny or hit on me or anything like that."
Ilesyn points out, cheerfully, "I don't think K'dir is. Bisexual, perhaps, but he /did/ sleep with me, and he /did/ enjoy it. But that's beside the point." Shaking her head, she continues, "Does it make you feel differently about them?"
C'daer drops the hide, eyes widening dramatically. Shocked, "He did -what-?" The bronzerider blinks rapidly, staring at Ilesyn. "Uh.."
Ilesyn blinks at C'daer, lifting her eyebrows. "I thought that had been mentioned? It was ages back. Before I was a candidate. /He/ asked /me/."
"I don't want to know," Daer says, leaning down to collect his dropped hide, fumbling. "Uh, so, uh, how's Candidacy been? My cousin was searched, that's pretty neat, I hear there was an egg touching.."
"You're changing the subject on me. What's so horrifying about it that you don't want to know?" Ilesyn pursues the subject relentlessly, curious, and leaning forward in her seat - even unburying her feet in the process. The later comments and questions are ignored.
C'daer frowns, and refuses to look up at her. "I just don't want to know about anyone else's sex life. Not yours, not K'dir's, not the Weyrleader's. Never mind."
Ilesyn rolls her eyes, letting her gaze rest on the cavern's ceiling, above. "Prude," she accuses. "Fine. Whatever. Candidacy is fine, if you call drudgery fine, that's nice, I wasn't there so I don't know. Happy?"
"Yeah. Sure. Whatever." Daer's abrupt, embarrassed, and bends over his hides again, mumbling phrases of dragonhealing wisdom to himself in an attempt to look busy and uninterruptable.
"How /do/ you manage to get through the mating flights lecture," Ilesyn wonders - mostly to herself, musing beneath her breath. "I suppose if you treat it with clinical distance, perhaps. Might have to study you as well as the weyrlings."
C'daer mentions, "Jalis teaches it," and hunkers over his hides, blushing furiously. "You will -not- study me."
Ilesyn ahs. "That makes a difference. I don't know the Weyrwoman all that well, but from what I know, she's certainly no prude. Good. I'd hate the weyrlings to be infected with /your/ attitudes." Her gaze catches those blushes, and further mirth comes to her expression, head shaking. "Why not? You're interesting."
"I am not interesting," Daer protests. "I am the furthest thing from interesting anyone ever met. I'm perfectly normal. I'm weyrmated with two children and the Weyrlingmaster and that's all normal."
"One child belonging to another woman who is still in love with you, not to mention a prudish and homophobic attitude, and an ability to blush that fascinates me," finishes Ilesyn. "I'd say that that's pretty interesting."
C'daer gapes at Ilesyn. "How do you know she's still... It is not... I can't -help- it," he finishes, as his ears turn red.
Ilesyn nods once, smile so broad that it nearly splits her face in half. "Of course you can't. That's what makes it so fascinating. For all your attempts to be just another ordinary person, you can't do it. You're /not/ the holder boy any more, and you don't like that."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Daer grouches, trying to deflect her intensity, "but how do you know about Sanriel? If she's spreading that around.."
"You do too, but you're going to deny it anyway," retorts Ilesyn, lazily slinking down in her seat, posture gone for good. "She's not. It's obvious, though. To me, at least."
C'daer harrumphs and prods at his hides again. "Don't spread that around, okay? If Avila or Miake gets ahold of it, there'll be hell to pay, and Sanriel doesn't want that any more than I do."
Ilesyn twines her fingers together, stretching them out far in front of her, a lazy nod following the motion. "Of course not. I'm the absolute epitome of discresion."
"Mm. As you say," he says, reluctant. "If it's that obvious, maybe I should talk to her about it," Daer worries, lips pulling tighter into a frown.
Ilesyn points out, calmly, "I'm observant. I look for these things. Other people don't. I bet no one else will notice, not even Avila."
C'daer sighs, gathering up the hides again, just for something to do with his hands. "I sure hope not. Especially since Avila seems to spend all her time looking for that sort of thing."
Ilesyn picks up her own hide, peering at it, though her attention appears to be still upon C'daer. "Avila doesn't notice the little things, though. She looks for the obvious things, I think."
Curiousity pricked, C'daer asks, "What do you mean by little things?"
Ilesyn drops her hide, counting upon her fingers, "The nuances. I mean-- glances, expressions when no one is watching, the /way/ things are worded, the reasoning behind actions. Things like that."
"Ah. Huh. I guess I don't notice that stuff either," Daer says, leaning back in his chair. "I doubt many people do, really. After all, who would really care unless they were directed at you."
With an amused smile, Ilesyn points out, "Some of those things have been directed at /you/, I believe. Your point is well made, though, and accurate. People /don't/ notice those things."
C'daer wrinkles up his nose, "Well, but I wasn't looking for them, or expecting them, or anything, because she said forever ago that she wasn't interested in me any more."
"She lied." Ilesyn, of course, speaks with the absolute authority of one who is convinced in her own judgement - rightly or wrongly - and smiles placidly.
"I, I don't think she lied as much as she was trying to fool herself," Daer says hopefully, peering up over at Ilesyn.
Ilesyn tilts her head to the side, considering C'daer in turn. "Perhaps. Or perhaps not. It's difficult to tell in these cases, even for me."
C'daer grants that, "As you say. I don't think Sanriel's the lying type, really." He rolls his shoulders forward and back, releasing tension. "So are you getting interesting information for your study?"
"The lying type is often the type who don't appear as such, because they're so good at it," counters Ilesyn, calmly, crossing her ankles again. "Interesting? Well, somewhat. Some bits are more fascinating than others."
With a light shrug, Daer asks, "Share? If you don't have to keep it confidential, that is. I mean, most of them will end up my weyrlings, after all."
Ilesyn settles back into her seat, readjusting herself so that she's sitting slightly straighter, and less hunched. "Only half, or thereabouts, isn't it? But close enough, I suppose. Well." She considers. "A lot of them are nervous about the hatching, already. There's a lot of uncertainty about whether they're good enough-- and whether they can prove themselves. Most of them don't seem to realise the seriousness of it, though. What their lives will involve, if they do Impress."
"We've - thirty-four eggs, I think," Daer answers. "And true, I suppose." He listens, nodding agreement. "I often wonder, if Candidates had to go through the same sort of drills weyrlings did, if they'd reconsider. But then - we don't want them to do that, and anyway with a lifemate, even drills look better."
"How many candidates? Do you know?" Interested, she considers, hesitating. "They might. Would they be better off, to do so? Wouldn't you rather have your weyrlings be happy - not just because they've found their lifemate, but because they honestly don't mind the work they're going to be doing for the rest of their life?"
C'daer shakes his head, "I don't, the last count I heard was forty-five, and that was a few days ago." He pauses to think, pursing his lips and shifting his legs. "Well, as we've discussed before, often it's those who haven't ever dreamed of dragonriding who do it the best."
Ilesyn points out, leaning forward, "Yes, but having never thought about it has nothing to do with actually deciding that they really want to do it. What if someone Impressed, and was miserable - aside from their lifemate, of course."
"I don't think it could happen," Daer answers, confidently. "The dragonets would know. They wouldn't pick someone who was unsuited for the life."
"How?" Curious, Ilesyn lifts her eyebrows. "How do they know? And why? What is it that differentiates, for them, between two people who are equally fit, to find one that is suited, and one that is not?"
C'daer quickly shakes his head, "It's not -fit- that's the issue. If a weyrling isn't in shape, they get in shape fast enough. As to how, well, they just do. They can sense it, like the dragons Searching can."
Ilesyn mms, shaking her head. "I don't get it. Obviously, though, I shall have to give in to your superior knowledge, and merely accept what I can't understand."
Untroubled, Daer admits, "I hardly understand it either, and trying to get them to explain it is like trying," he winks, "to understand women. They just do, and that's as fine a point as I can put on it. I mean, maybe it's like falling in love, you just -know-."
"I wouldn't know, about the whole falling in love thing," admits Ilesyn, cheerfully - in fact, she seems almost pleased at this paricular point. "But... perhaps. It's something I'd /love/ to be able to study, but it really isn't possible, is it? If dragons won't talk to you, they certainly won't talk to /me/, through you." She sticks out her tongue, amused and childish, at his comment about women.
C'daer laughs and returns the tongue-sticking-out, then opens the fingers of one hand in a who-knows gesture. "Not unless you somehow happen to impress a dragon who is willing to study it for you. Kourieth doesn't exactly remember choosing me, it's not like I can ask him about that either - he just says, 'You were there' like that's all there was to it.
Ilesyn rolls her eyes, expression amused. "Like /that/ is going to happen. The dragon who is willing to study it, and more importantly, the dragon who is willing to Impress /me/. Porcines'd fly, first." Shaking her head, she adds, "So you have asked? Did you ask right away, when you first Impressed, or just later?"
"Right, that's what I thought," Daer says, by his unchanged tone apparently meaning no insult. "Oh, later. There's no chance at all, the first three days, it's too new and hectic and surprising, and when he was awake we were getting used to each other, and most of the time he was asleep anyway."
Ilesyn takes no insult, either; she's rather satisfied, in her expression, approving. "Oh. If I did Impress - obviously, as we agreed, it won't happen - I'd ask right away. It'd be my first question. You know: Oh, Mydragoneth! How did you know it was me?"
C'daer grins and shakes his head. "That's not how it happens at all. It's mind-blowing. You wouldn't have time to think of it. The dragonet'd be in no state to answer questions, either, they're tired and very hungry."
"Weird," is all Ilesyn says, shaking her head. "But I'll take your word for it. I don't have any way to disprove you, after all."
"It's a bit like impressing a firelizard. Not that you'd know about that either," C'daer muses. "I still say you ought to impress one, so you know how it is."
Ilesyn shrugs her shoulders. "I'm not particularly fussed at finding out. Not fussed enough to be willing to accept a firelizard, that's for sure. I really /don't/ want one of those, and I'm going to stick by that, no matter what."
Daer inclines his head, "As you please, though I've really no idea why you find them so repulsive. They're useful little things and you can't help but love them."
"I can. Help but love them, that is." So Ilesyn avers, tilting her head firmly - rather overly firmly - as she wrinkles her nose. "They're pesks. Worse than the canines that some of the candidates have."
"You couldn't if you impressed one, I meant," Daer retorts, and then frowns. "Ah, shards, they have canines? If there's one thing I don't need it's candidates who think they can have pets in the barracks."
"So did I," retorts Ilesyn in turn. "They have canines. Kyer, and-- uh, Tilly? Awful creatures. Not always in the barracks, but there often enough. You would think that they'd know better."
C'daer slumps back in his chair. "Pets are fine for those who don't have dragons, but weyrlings have no -time- for anything of that nature. And if they did, where would they keep it once they graduated? Up in their weyr? That's just silly."
Ilesyn inclines her head forward. "You ought to make that clear to them, in that case. I agree wholeheartedly. At least if they realise it now, they'll be ready to tear themselves away, if they Impress. /That/ is going to be painful to watch, to say the least."
"Tilly and Kyer," Daer repeats. "I know who Kyer is, but I don't think I've met Tilly." He huffs out a sigh. "I tell them and tell them, and what do I get? 'Oh, she won't be any trouble!' 'Can't you make an exception for me?' Usually, telling them that the other weyrling dragons will consider their pets little snacks works, though."
"Now /that/ seems like a good idea," comments Ilesyn. "Dragon-food. That'll be enough to make them understand." She pulls herself up from her seat, a somewhat dejected glance given to the laundry. "I suppose I better fold that someplace where I won't get distracted. Painful job. I-- er, well, it's been a pleasure talking to you, C'daer. Weyrlingmaster. Whatever."
C'daer chuckles, amused, and glances at the laundry. "Indeed so. Try not to bore yourself to death. And C'daer is fine." A smile's given, "See you later," and the rider then pulls out a few more hides to start working in earnest.
Ilesyn tilts her head into a nod, as she picks up the basket, holding it gingerly in her arms. "I will /try/, though there is reasonable doubt as to wether that is possible. If I don't show up again, you'll know why. C'daer, then. See you later, also."
Ilesyn walks off northeastwards to the eastern cavern.
Posted by Louise at January 29, 2003 04:47 PM