June 16, 2004
Dydaree comes to see the eggs.

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From the galleries, Dydaree scales the neatly cut stone steps from the entrance below.
R'hyn's perched on the end of Arisvath's forelimb, leaving him off the sand, but apparently still sweltering, with his sleeves rolled up, and his boots removed. He fans his face, glancing across to his lifemate's head, which is lowered in front of a greenish-blue egg, which he watches with absolute fascination.

From the galleries, Dydaree picks her way quietly up the stairs, a small basket of cloth items balanced on one hip. Keeping to the first tier, she sidesteps along to a central spot, then plops down gracelessly before settling the basket beside her. Only then does she glance out at the Sands and spot R'hyn perched atop the unmissable Arisvath, and she lifts a hand to give him a wave.

R'hyn catches movement out of the corner of his eye, and turns his head - he probably misses the actual wave, but he does seem to notice Dydaree, given that he immediately smiles, and gives a wave of his own. "How's," he gives a wave of his hand, vaguely, "it all going? Dydaree." The name is tacked on at the end - more as though he's confirming the name, than because he's only remembered just in time.

From the galleries, Dydaree scoots up to the edge of her seat, perching there with elbows on knees and chin in hand. "It's all going well. Er, wellish I suppose." A quick downward nod indicates the basket which may or may not be visible to him. "Not so good at mending I'm afraid, but I don't mind giving it a go. How are you, R'hyn?" The corners of her mouth skip upward into a smirk and she adds, "Other than hot."

R'hyn, notes, reflectively, "If I were in charge of giving out candidate chores, I'd probably suggest people remained doing what they were, you know, good at. Why have people who're good in the kitchen work with mending?" He shrugs, leaning back against his lifemate, who turns his head to consider the pair, then goes back to oggling his egg of choice. "I'm not hot," he insists, the corners of his mouth quirking. "I'm cold. Shivering, really."

The night grows late, midnight fast approaching on this autumn evening. Strong, steady, thick rain falls from a darkly clouded sky. Puddles are deep with the heavy drops - the kind that smart when they meet bare skin. The autumnal air still clings to the ends of summery humidity, but is cooler and fresher. (59F, 15C)

From the galleries, Dydaree straightens, flinging both hands toward the 'rider as she exclaims, "Exactly! I said that very thing today. Why have the ex-seamstress ruin my pastries while sew some poor lad's tunic into jumbled mess? It's downright silly if you ask me. Kelta... Keltara, Keltaka? Something like that anyhow- she said it was a learning and growing experience. What does mending have to do with being a dragonrider, I'd like to know." SHe peeks down at the egg of interest, one brow quirking a bit. "A green's in that one I'd say." To his insistence on being cold she just rolls her eyes.

"Granted," admits R'hyn, looking a little embarrassed, "I was downright hopeless at most candidate chores. Keltaka has a point, in some ways," he adds, thoughtfully, his head tilted to the side. "Dragonriders have to learn lots of skills, and sewing is one of them. But it doesn't seem very efficient." He turns back to consider Arisvath's head, and the egg, remarking, "You could be right. Last time his favourite egg held a green, too. He, um, does quite like the greens." He blushes.

Siramyth's favorite eggs hold the fat ones. She moves just long enough to peer warily up at Dydaree and, upon deciding that she poses no threat, returns her attention to moving a couple of eggs around rock garden-esque.

From the galleries, Dydaree takes on a distinctly amused grin, settling back into her chin in hand posture. "Imagine that. Were you as good at other chores as you are at sweeping up sand?" Her tone is light rather than scathing, and if he were a bit closer she might tack on a wink. "I did manage to mostly get the hang of it after a while, but I still have this basket to finish and it's late. I don't think I'll ever be fast at it." She peers out over the eggs and points at a slightly larger one, swathed in rusts and ambers. "That one's got a blue I think." She pauses as Siramyth looks up at her, giving the gold a finger wiggling sort of wave.

R'hyn, in home-truth mode, announces cheerfully, "Better! I don't remember how many fingers I sliced open, and then there was the bleach incident..." His expression turned abashed. "I was a Harper. Not, you know, /used/ to that kind of chore. I'm sure they won't mind too much, or anything, though. It's not as though there aren't loads of people with the same problem." He shifts, attempting to get a better look at the egg in question. "Mmm. Maybe a brown. Not sure; I'm not very good at guessing them." Arisvath lifts his head from his egg-watching to warble, softly, at Siramyth, tail twitching slightly in the sand.

From the galleries, Dydaree chuckles softly, then peers down at her left hand. "I definitely poked myself more than once- my thumb has almost as many holes in it as the clothes do. All my digits are basically intact though so I suppose I should consider myself lucky." Her dark eyes slide back out to him then and she brightens a bit. "A Harper, really? What sort of instrument did you play- or were you a singer or something instead?"

"We won't even mention how terrible my first straps were," adds R'hyn, scrunching up his face in disgust. "I sang," he explains, glancing away, keeping his head down as though embarrassed even in memory. "Boy soprano kind of thing. Drums, too, but it was my voice they really liked."

From the galleries, Dydaree winces a bit at the thought. "Straps! Well, there you go, yet another reason why I need to practice saying 'no' to Weyrsecond types. Somehow I think I may be more suited to a saucepan than riding straps. I guess you never know though." She pauses, eyeing him thoughtfully. "Can you still sing, or did you lose it when you grew into your adult voice?"

R'hyn laughs, steadying his position again - he appears to have been slipping. "Shiae's impossible to say 'no' to. I should know - at one point, I was her superior, and it still never worked. Not, I suppose," he grimaces, "that I tried all that hard, in those days." Shrugging his shoulders, he allows, "I've a passable tenor, nothing exceptional. My voice changed while I was a candidate, so I never did get training with an adult voice. I was kind of relieved, to tell the truth."

From the galleries, Dydaree shifts her weight a bit on the not entirely comfortable seat, which brings her hip into contact with that dratted basket of mending. She sighs ruefully and settles back, pulling out a pair of shorts with a ragged hem. "Well then I suppose it was best to not fight the inevitable. And since I get to stay here it's actually sort of nice to be a Candidate. All the anticipation and whatnot." Next she rummages around for a spool of thread and pulls the needle out of the side of it once it's found. With her tongue sticking out a bit she threads it, then peers back out at R'hyn. "Why relieved?

"It's fun," agrees R'hyn. "And nerve-wracking, but at least everyone's in it together. I guess that didn't stop me from, uh, upchucking every so often." The admission draws another flush to his face - though it's less easy to see, given the red flush of overheatedness already present. "I, um. Hated performing. Being watched, listened to. If my adult voice was trained, they may have wanted me to perform even once I was a rider."

From the galleries, Dydaree blinks, eyes widening a bit. "Really, you were that nervous? I guess it hasn't really become /real/ to me yet this time around. I was a lot more nervous before." She pauses, teeth grazing her bottom lip as she folds the hem up as neatly as she can. "I think you should sing when you're here alone. I'm sure the hatchlings would love it and you might end up with music-loving dragons, too." A quick grin, then it's all she can do to get the needle through the cloth pointy-end first.

R'hyn allows a quick smile to play on his lips, and admits, "I was terrified. Didn't expect to Impress, but wanted to - my whole family rode. It probably does get easier, the second time round. You have a better idea of what to expect. But it doesn't change the uncertainty." He hesitates, his eyebrows raising in quiet surprise, as he considers her suggestion. "I don't know... someone might come in, and then I'd feel stupid."

From the galleries, Dydaree nods as he talks and she jabs her needle in and out of the fabric in loose, somewhat sloppy stitches. Pausing, she glances up. "It /is/ uncertain, that's true. I don't expect to Impress either so maybe that's why I'm not upchucking just yet." Again that light tone, then a brief hesitation. "Why would you feel stupid? Especially if you have a good voice. If I could sing, I'd sing to them. No one knows if they can hear us while they're in there. Poor lonely little guys with no lifemate yet."

"And you're happy working in the kitchens?" R'hyn takes a guess, continuing, "So regardless, you're going to be okay with what you're doing, I guess." He glances around at the eggs, and Arisvath, who is now nosing, very gently, a darker blue egg. "I suppose you're right. It must be kind of lonely -- and they're waiting for so long. I'm sure the enjoy the egg-touchings. At least they've got their parents right here."

From the galleries, Dydaree nods hastily, her smile brightening a bit. "I am. And of course I love it here, and having a position to fall back on if I don't Impress means I won't have to leave either way. I think that definitely helps things. I would love to Impress, but that has a lot of scary bits to it." A quick shrug, then she lays her mending in her lap, eyes all on the eggs. "Does Arisvath talk to them, do you know? I always wondered what they are like at this stage, but I never really had anyone to ask."

R'hyn wiggles his toes lazily - they're covered in sand, for all that it looks as though he hasn't actually been walking barefooted. "Where were you from, again? I don't know if I asked. It's good, to like what you do. Riderhood is... Yeah," he concludes, after a pause. "There're some scary bits." Again, he glances at Arisvath, and finally says, "He says he can feel them, sometimes, but that they don't talk back. Too young, yet. Besides - they're supposed to talk to their lifemates, first."

From the galleries, Dydaree sews slowly and almost painfully, but she manages to keep up the disjointed rhythm while talking now, even if her eyes do stay on her task. "I'm not sure how I feel about flying Thread. I mean, I'm obviously glad /you/ do it, I'm just not sure I want to be doing." A hint of a frown makes a horizontal crinkle across her forehead and her voice quiets a bit. "I suppose that isn't very dutiful of me to say." The eggs are much easier, and her voice regains its strength. "I guess that's true. That means they're sort of awake in there though. I think you should sign to them."

"I Impressed a little while before the pass started," reflects R'hyn. "Does that make me old? Anyway-- it didn't feel so real. We knew it was coming back, and we were getting ready, but it wasn't an immediate threat. I'm not sure how I'd feel, if I'd lived with thread, and knew what it could do." He shakes his head, and adds, "I think it's sensible. Anyone who /wants/ to risk their life is an idiot. But if you're willing to stand, you're obviously willing to do your duty, if you're called to it." He's got a quiet voice - soft spoken, not very forceful, but, at least, honest. "I will, then. Try, at least."

From the galleries, Dydaree nods thoughtfully, her hands slowing yet more as her mind becomes more active than her hands. "I would definitely do my duty if I am called. And of course, the wonder of bonding with a dragon helps balance things out. I think it would be easier if I was being Searched from Hold or Craft and hadn't heard the dragons mourn for those that were lost and all that." She clears her throat, shaking away the somber image and pulling a hint of a smile to her lips. "I think you should. I'm sure they would like it. Oh, and I'm from Benden Hold- I got so caught up in thinking about dragonriding I completely forgot."

R'hyn's little smile, as he glances back at Arisvath again, echoes his words: "Oh, they make a lot of things worthwhile. Can't imagine life without him, anymore. But-- yes. It's hard, the first time you hear them mourning, and it's harder when you've flown with them. Or if you've lead them." R'hyn shakes his head, as if clearing his own thoughts, and smiles. "Mother will approve. She always did like having a son who sang. Ah, Benden Hold. I've not been there but once or twice. Do you miss it?"

From the galleries, Dydaree smiles softly down at Arisvath, then her attention slides back to R'hyn. She does not answer quickly or easily as one might expect, but hesitates instead, pondering. "Well... sometimes I miss some things. I've been here almost two Turns now so Ista is really home more than Benden anymore. My parents had," she pauses, taking a slow breath, "thoughts about who I should be that didn't really match the reality. It made for a sometimes difficult life there. I like most things about the Weyr much better.

R'hyn's brows raise, curiously, but he doesn't ask -- instead, he nods. "I understand that. Ista's my home, but I Impressed at Southern. I loved living there, and it became my home, but I could give it up, when I had to. The Weyr is a good place to live. It's hard, sometimes, but I think we make up for it in other ways."

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