deliberately unhelpful [tags; casta]

[Avu]

You like looking down on the Weyr, don’t you? Ahth inquired. The blue stretched, eyes whirling in idle curiosity, but the words were not directed to HisR’ahre, but instead to the small green Salamandyr that was perched on Ahth’s head, beady eyes darting around and around the view that sprawled beneath them. And a very impressive one it was, too; the blue dragon was coiled around the Northern drumtower, serpentine body curled idly, head resting on his forepaws. The dark creature moved scarcely a muscle, his first eyelid already starting to slide down past his eye; content, was Ahth, to be curled here. His was not quite so content – and had been a little on edge ever since the theme for the Blossom Gather had been announced. R’ahre hadn’t really planned on going – he hadn’t anything he needed to buy, and neither did he have many marks to spend – but the theme. Day of the Dead. The blueweyrling didn’t really think it was a bad idea, but it was still…depressing. To go or not to go…? For his deceased weyrmate, maybe he would, but it didn’t seem right to mourn for someone who had died for Benden at one of Selenitas’s Holds.

Sylph’s answer, the green winding her long tail around Ahth’s head knob, made golden-brown eyes flick upwards to look towards the Salamandyr. Best look. Look down, best do. Am best. The modesty of that statement drew a half-smirk to the bluerider’s mouth before he raised one hand without looking, the mental brush of his mind against Sylph’s earning a quiet croon from the green before she leapt into his palm, curling her tail around his forefinger and licking his thumb pleasantly. Very, very polite, she was to Hers and to Ahth; they covered for her and lied for her regularly and she wasn’t stupid enough to sneer at them as she did many other creatures. That would be detrimental to herself, after all, if she upset RusaHers and the bluething that she had to share him with. Not happy is love, the green observed, tilting her head to look up at R’ahre, who leaned back against Ahth absently, wiggling his fingers to amuse her. Destroy something, Sylph make better? she offered sweetly.

“No, thank you. No destroying.” The words were soft, one finger running down the Salamandyr’s back; Sylph arched into his touch before she leapt off of his hand, sliding rapidly through the tall grass. R’ahre looked after her curiously, head tilted slightly to one side, but he dismissed it; likely as not she’d gone off to destroy something anyway with Skink. The pair of greens were the most irresponsible creatures he’d ever met, but he loved them. Both of them, even if only Sylph looked to him; her affection for Skink was strong enough to make him fond of her, too. “Ahth…?” The word was whispered, one eyebrow rising slightly as R’ahre turned to look up at the blue, who flipped his tail – dismissively; he didn’t see where the problem was, honestly. Intelligent? Very much so, the blue was, but the human concept of love evaded him. He loved His, of course, but that was special – and Baoth he was very fond of, but where love turned complicated, he didn’t know.

I’d fly you there if you wanted to go.
“That doesn’t…really help.”
Oh, /apologies/. Yes, there was a slightly sarcastic note in there. The blue stretched, and then abruptly rose, R’ahre smacking the ground with his palms to keep from actually falling over backwards; eyes narrowed to glare slightly at Ahth. The dragon flared both wings, unapologetic, before he launched himself into flight languidly, slender coils arching through the air, quickly, effortlessly. I /don’t/ see the problem, MineR’ahre. You liked her very much. She died. Why shouldn’t you be sad? Nobody is going to question a death. They don’t even need to know. You worry too much. Up he rose, sliding from wind to thermal gracefully and curving upwards. And do take that aggravated look off your face; we have company and you’ll scare her. Green eyes narrowed slightly, curiously; the figure that Ahth had spotted was not one familiar to him or to His.

Who?
If I knew, don’t you think I would’ve told you by now? His wings stalled, hovered. A female human. Alone.
Again. Helpful.

[lex]

Honour the dead, Casta thought, tilting her head slightly to one side as she looked out of the window. In the distance, she could see the lights of far-off Holds – none that she could name, but they were a reassuring presence as evening started to set in. She had known the view from the kitchen at Benden like she knew her own body, could draw you a map of every pin-prick of light on the dark horizon she had glimpsed when she had been doing the night shift, stoking the great fires and stirring pots of stew. The view from her window in the Candidate Barracks was so similar, and yet it bore so little resemblance to what she was used to. If she closed her eyes, she could build up the old one and almost feel at home (for, as loathe as she was to admit it, Benden was all she knew – it was as close to a home as she had ever been given), despite her strange surroundings.

Honour the dead… she considered it again, racking her brain to try and think of exactly who she could honour in the Gather everyone was talking about. All the other Candidates had plans, people to remember who had significance to them, and it had come as something of a surprise to Casta when she realised that she had precisely…nobody. She couldn’t name one dead person who had made a difference to her life, no matter how hard she tried to think of someone. Her mother was still alive, as far as she knew, and the two had never really been close. Maybe old Petar, the man who had taught her her letters when she was a child, and who had died three turns ago. But even then, he taught all the Benden drudge children how to read and write. He had never held Casta in any esteem. If she saw him today, she doubted that they would recognise each other.

She had few friends, and none who had passed away. Her father had never taken much notice of her, plain as she was (he had a very pretty little girl with a green rider, who he made no secret of doting on), and if he had any family of interest he had never mentioned them to her, or her to them. Wistfully, Casta gave a small sigh. The rough glass steamed up for a moment, and as she watched the small patch of frost dissipate, the girl shook her head at her own folly. Look at her, sitting at a window making moon-eyes about having no dead loves! I’m nothing but lucky, she told herself, getting to her feet and reaching for her shawl. She was doing herself no good by just sitting here – if she was going to be thinking deep thoughts, she wanted to think them outside.

The early-evening air was like a lover’s kiss, cool and soothing as she made her way out of a small door. Pausing for a moment, Casta took a deep breath and smiled to herself, unable to help the tranquil feeling that spread through her. The evening had always been her favourite time to go outside – it lacked the bustle of the day, but had not yet acquired the chill and potential danger of night. Casta had never been the romantic type, much preferring to keep both feet firmly on the ground, but she did have to admit that there was something about this time of day that made her feel peaceful. She could clear her head, and rarely run into anyone who would disturb her.

Her feet led her, seemingly of their own accord, to the drum-tower. Casta hadn’t walked this path before, and she was always eager to try out a new route. I’ll just not go to the Gather, she told herself after a few minutes of walking. It’s not as if I have the time to go, anyway. Mind you, she did secretly suspect that if she asked for time away from chores, she would be allowed to go. The real reason she wouldn’t ask (although she would never admit it) was her lack of wealth. Gathers were all very well if you could buy drinks and peruse the stalls, but Casta had no surplus to spend on things like that.

Even a drudge from Benden had some pride, it seemed. The idea made Casta smirk.

The unexpected beat of wings made her look up, and she stood stock still for a moment to watch Ahth take to the air. She hadn’t even known he was there. Transfixed by the dragon’s graceful movements, Casta watched him for a long moment before her eyes dropped back to the path. A few more steps, and the base of the tower loomed.

There was R’ahre, on the ground. Not exactly where Casta had expected to see a rider. When she realised he had seen her, she found herself suddenly tongue-tied – she had never spoken first to a dragon rider before, never initiated a conversation. They had always been the ones giving her orders, or approaching her on some matter of business. “Sorry…” she said to him, unconsciously anticipating violence from R’ahre if he was angry at her having come across him. Casta wasn’t a nervy lass, but she wasn’t about to risk herself, either. Mentally, she berated herself for this newfound speechlessness. When had she ever been worried like this before? It must be the new surroundings. “I didn’t realise…”

[Avu]

She is watching me.

So go on, show off. There was a frustrated bite in R’ahre’s tone despite himself. His face had fallen back into blankness, the blueweyrling crossing his legs absently and dropping his elbows absently against his knees, head bowing casually in case another flicker of upset was visible. He didn’t like being read easily, though he certainly hadn’t perfected keeping his face emotionless. When he was actually furious, it showed – but not when he was just mildly agitated. Pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes for a moment, the weyrlingrider’s breath left in a hiss. He’d come to the Drumheights for a reason: They were secluded. As far as he knew (courtesy of Ahth; Ahth knew a good deal of who did what in the Weyr) only one person frequented it and that was the Weyrdrummer. Apparently his luck just wasn’t that good. If only Sylph hadn’t gone; most people deserted at the sight of a Salamandyr, given their destructive arrogance and insulting sneering ways that had made them oh-so-popular at Selenitas. A pity.

I am not, Ahth responded, turning on a wingtip to soar back above the Drumheights, ‘Showing off’. I know perfectly well that I can fly well. Do I really need to prove it to someone I don’t know? I think not. The blue’s serpentine body curled around the top of the Drumheights, eyes spinning rapidly as he studied Casta curiously, before he settled on top of the ‘heights, hind claws digging into the edge of the roof and forepaws straddling the tip. His tail wound partway around the curved tower, and his head rubbed against the pointed tip absently to soothe an itch. It wasn’t a particularly comfortable position, but it did provide a very good view. If you were seeking to avoid company, MineR’ahre, I would suggest you move.

His eyes closed, stubbornly, and no answer was given to the blue, even after the golden-brown eyes opened again, narrowing slightly in irritation. No, he wasn’t going to move – run away from someone he didn’t know. A lone female, Ahth had said. Likely she’d be on her way soon (unless perhaps she was the Weyrdrummer? How upsetting; just his luck) and that would be that, and he could go back to frustrating himself by going in circles again. Lovely. Just the way he wanted to spend his time. R’ahre tilted his head slightly to look up at Ahth, but the blue wasn’t looking at him; he was looking towards Casta. Dropping his gaze towards the girl as she came into view, a slight frown curved his lips downwards. He’d never seen her before. Had he…? She seemed vaguely familiar. Very vaguely. R’ahre’s nose crinkled slightly. Yes, he was trying to remember – and no, he didn’t. That was always irritating.

Her words made his head tilt, eyes half-lidded idly. He couldn’t remember, and it frustrated him. R’ahre usually took pride in his memory, but…obviously if he had ever seen her before, or someone who looked like her, then she hadn’t been important enough to stir but the fuzziest of memories. Hmm.

“Didn’t realize what?” he inquired softly, voice just barely loud enough to carry across the distance still between them. His elbows propped against his knees, the bluerider wound his fingers together and rested his chin on them, head tilted to look up at her. “Didn’t realize that I’d already laid claim to the Drumheights…? Because I haven’t.” The words were not uttered in a tone that could honestly be classified as ‘friendly’; R’ahre typically wasn’t. He didn’t have many friends, and didn’t really want them, either. Anz and Nautic he rarely saw anymore, given that they’d Impressed whers, and he didn’t see much of M’kai, either, and Zanalorin had as…good as disappeared. Mer and Anusha weren’t classified really as friends; he could tolerate their company, but he never wanted to actively seek it.

R’ahre tilted his head back slightly to look up at Ahth, who watched them silently, before he dropped his head again and inquired, “Are you the Weyrdrummer, or something…?”

She’s not. The Weyrdrummer is a greenrider. I’m sure her dragon would be with her if she was. Ahth flared both wings outwards, pushing off hard from the tower, to sweep into a neat landing nearby; his eyes glowed with curiosity as he flopped inelegantly onto his side, crossing his forelegs carefully before he crooned. The sound was not one that carried an unnecessary amount of warmth, but it was encouraging; clearly the girl needed it, and she’d be no use at all if she didn’t talk. Ask her what she’s doing up here.

Make me, the bluerider returned with no small amount of irritation; Ahth was no help and yes – this was childish, but he didn’t care at the moment. You ask her, if you want to know so badly.

I don’t.

[lex]

Oh, but there was something familiar about him. Casta realised that as soon as she saw R’ahre’s face clearly. It was like an itch at the back of her mind, the kind of thing that made her want to snap her fingers in frustration and stare intently at the man until she remembered where she had seen him before. Luckily, her manners prevented her from doing so, and instead she focussed on his words. His expression was inscrutable to her eyes, but his tone didn’t sound unfriendly – which was a good thing, as she had more or less expected him to react to her un-asked for presence with hostility. When was the last time I had a conversation with a male rider that wasn’t an order, or about sex? Trying to remember such a conversation yielded no results – she didn’t think that such a thing had ever happened. So how was she supposed to reply to him? This was unknown ground for Casta.

“I just didn’t mean to disturb you,” she told him, still trying to place him in her memory. When the blue rider’s eyes lifted to look at his dragon, she surreptitiously looked up as well. He was a beautiful creature. Living in a Weyr, Casta had seen enough dragons in her life not to be scared or completely distracted by them, but she didn’t think there would ever be a time when she didn’t find them interesting. When Ahth took off, his rider’s question to her was forgotten for a moment as she watched him land. The wind blown towards her by his wings didn’t make her flinch, but however tempted she was to take a step towards the dragon, she stayed where she was. It was only manners, after all – and Casta had too much respect for a large and dangerous animal to go too close to it without permission.

At Benden she had been encouraged (along with all the other drudges) to stay as far away from the dragons as possible, so as not to irritate them. This naturally wasn’t the closest she had ever been to a dragon, and Ahth seemed friendly enough, but twenty years of being told to avoid the creatures made her a little wary. Casta had also never been given a full explanation of the bond between rider and dragon, if you can believe it. She knew that there was great affection, and she could see the intelligence in those whirling eyes, but after the sharp reprimands she had once received for asking too many questions, Casta had given up. She had a vague idea that they could use some sort of speech, but found that very difficult to understand. How could they speak?

Remembering R’ahre’s question, she looked back to him. “I’m just a Candidate,” she told him with a smile. Then it hit her where she had seen him before, and her expression turned quizzical. I’m shallow enough that I wouldn’t forget a face like that she thought wryly, and took a couple of steps closer to the man on the ground. “I’ve met you before,” she told him. She doubted that he would really care, but at least it was a point of conversation. “You were –” Green rider Aiwyre’s man, she wanted to say. She had known the woman in question from afar – the drudges knew every rider’s name from running errands and messages around the Weyr. Casta’s impression of Aiwyre had been favourable (as much as it could be towards someone she barely knew), and she remembered seeing R’ahre around the rider’s weyrs when she had taken something there. He hadn’t had a dragon then, though, and that was interesting.

She faltered for just a moment, realising that what she had been just about to say was probably not something he wanted to be reminded of. Aiwyre was dead. “- at Benden Weyr,” Casta finished, hoping that her disjointed sentence didn’t make her sound too much like a fool. “I worked in the kitchens there,” she explained, feeling thoroughly stupid for the way she was behaving. Why should this conversation make her so uncomfortable? “I saw you a few times, when I ran errands to the riders’ barracks.” Mentally, she reigned herself in. Some topics of conversation should not be skirted too much towards.

“Sorry,” she began after a moment, giving a small chuckle at her lack of focus. “I should leave you alone. I’m sorry I interrupted you.”

[Avu]

Her response earned only a shrug from R’ahre. That one motion was dismissive to the extreme, though he did refrain from pointing out that she’d only disturbed him when she’d started talking. If she’d just gone on, he’d have just ignored her and that would’ve been okay, but – whatever. Too late to fix it, anyway. But she did look more and more familiar, the more he looked at her and it irked him to no end. Ahth couldn’t help; Ahth only remembered what he chose to remember and this girl, if R’ahre didn’t even recall her name, certainly wouldn’t be someone the blue cared enough to remember. His gaze dropped to his lap, a physical effort to keep himself from staring at her in frustration, and the bluerider deliberately uncurled his fingers, idly, tilting his head only slightly to look at her when she spoke again. A Candidate. Lovely. His nose scrunched slightly, though; she looked about as old as he was – and he’d only Impressed Ahth a few months ago, but he still was considered old in terms of Impression.

I told you she wasn’t the Weyrdrummer, Ahth commented offhandedly.
Ooh, s –

However, the decidedly sarcastic mental retort was never finished; she recognized him, apparently, and R’ahre froze. It wasn’t that he stiffened – he just ceased to move completely for a moment before his gaze flicked back up to her, curious. The two words, followed by the hesitation, made it click. Benden Weyr. Or Nerat Hold, perhaps; he resembled his father, the Lord Holder, enough that his origins were obvious. Still, somewhere decidedly Northern, and that would have been bad. He didn’t like it when people knew where he came from; the bias against Benden certainly didn’t make it fun, though he fancied himself a little more approachable than most men formerly of Benden. No sexism, for one thing, and no desire to go around killing people. Not really, though there were a few people he wouldn’t mind seeing dead. Pity one of them happened to be the assistant Weyrlingmaster, really, and that another was Bonded to his Salamandyr’s twin, of whom Sylph was ridiculously fond.

Benden Weyr.

“Ah.” The sound was dry, though her explanation did provide why she seemed so, so vaguely familiar to him. The blueweyrling didn’t deny the charges, though; it was already a known fact that he was from Benden. He might have kept up the charade that he was from one of the Southern Holds up better if M’kai and Crystoph hadn’t arrived at Selenitas and recognized him, if Fort hadn’t barged into the Main Hall, but it wasn’t like he was worse off for people knowing anyway. The mention of the Rider’s weyrs, though, caused a slight flicker of concentration; he bit his lip. He was probably one of the few Candidates who hadn’t lived in the Candidate Barracks, so he supposed it was memorable – that, and he’d shared a weyr with the greenrider for almost five Turns. A slight nod, to let Casta know she was correct in her assumptions, was offered before R’ahre tilted his head slightly to one side.

“Why did you leave?” The question was simple, straightforward, and R’ahre ignored the suggestion of the Candidate’s leaving him alone. Part of him wanted her to, but the other part – he missed Benden sometimes, though he suspected it was more the memories associated with the Weyr than the actual Weyr itself; certainly it had been less than pleasant there the majority of the time. It was almost nice to find someone who was from Benden, didn’t pitch rocks at Ahth, and didn’t want to deny it and claim they’d come from Blossom (right, because red hair was so common to Blossom Hold). Casta wasn’t exactly unpleasant company, either; he’d had much worse. Part of R’ahre was tempted to ask how she’d gotten down South; his method of travel had been decidedly unpleasant. Nerat might have been a fishing Hold, but he detested sailing, absolutely hated it.

That Place. The two words were definitely capitalized, from the way Ahth spoke; the blue’s eyes had lost their pleasantness and had fallen into dark, unreadable shades. The blue hated the mention of Benden Weyr. He’d never been there, and Ahth didn’t like to think of a time when he wasn’t. When His didn’t know him and adore him, but rather adored someone else, and another dragon. It upset the blue, and R’ahre hadn’t thought about Benden for quite some time. That it had come up again made Ahth understandably testy. Must you /care/ about That Place?

[lex]

Casta herself had received enough wary looks from strangers when they found out where she came from to understand R’ahre’s lack of desire to declare his relationship with the place. People tended to think you were about to do something violent when you told them here, or else they looked at you with that insufferable mixture of pity and condescension. How many damaged girls had turned up here to give them the impression that all the womenfolk were treated like that? It didn’t bear thinking about. There was always an unanswered question when she told them she was from Benden – ‘how bad was it?’ they all seemed to want to ask her, as soon as she had told them. ‘Are the riders there as bad as they say?’ They all seemed to assumed that she would be as skittish as a whipped runner, and tiptoed around her.

True, she had received her own share (often more than her own share) of bruises, tears and unwanted male attention, but Casta prided herself of being made of stern stuff. She had always maintained that if you knew how to handle the men, you could distract them long enough that they would forget what they had wanted from you in the first place. And a stern ‘No,’ could, she had learned, be more effective than a thousand tearful beggings. It became a running joke among the drudges that Casta had an almost permanently bruised face, because she was slapped so often for refusing. It worked, though. They just slapped me for impudence and moved on to someone easier. There was, as always, a vein of wry humour in her internal dialogue. But when did I become such a hard woman?

Maybe the people here were right, and every woman from Benden was damaged in some way. But wasn’t everyone? Surely nobody could say that nothing bad had happened to them, and Casta admitted to herself that she would rather be a drudge at Benden than a green rider, with what went on during flights. No, she would resolutely ignore all the too-sympathetic looks she received here, and only answer questions if they were actually spoken rather than merely implied.

R’ahre’s question got a dry chuckle from Casta. “Why would anyone dream of leaving Benden?” she asked, a strong vein of sarcasm cutting through her tone. “It’s hardly a picnic if you’re not a rider or candidate.” She was surprised, for a moment, at the venom she seemed to be expressing on this subject. Had she ever felt that strongly about Benden before? Maybe she was so hostile because she was here, and finally had something concrete to compare her old home to. She had always hoped that other Weyrs were different, but had never really been sure that she could believe it (it was what stopped a lot of people leaving – if they couldn’t be sure that somewhere else would be any better, was there any point in leaving what they knew?). She was profoundly glad that she had risked it, though. Even if she never Impressed here, she would have a happier life than she would have done before.

Benden had been her home, though. She had been born and bred there, and that place had a powerful hold on her, even now. She suspected that in twenty years, she would still be thinking about it. Selenitas still didn’t feel entirely real to her, even after a few weeks of living here. Pausing for just a moment, her expression visibly softened. Looking again at R’ahre, Casta gave him a small smile. “I think I just….looked ahead,” she told him, her usual honesty making its’ way to the surface. “I looked at the future, and all I could see was more of the same.” More chores, cooking, and violence. Never happy, just…drifting. “And then my luck would run out, and I’d have a child – and it would be just the same for her.”

That had been the thing which had really driven the point home – a girl of Casta’s age had found herself to be pregnant, and the situation had made Casta contemplate what she would do if such a thing happened to her. Raise another youngling to be in the same position as her? That wasn’t Casta’s idea of a fair chance, and she was damned if she would let it happen to anyone she could prevent it happening to. So she had worked her hardest to save what she could, and left as soon as she had enough money to get as far away from Benden as possible. Realising that her answer had probably been more than R’ahre had been looking for, she gave him an apologetic smile and shrugged her skinny shoulders awkwardly. “Why did you go?” she asked, head tilted quizzically to one side. “If you don’t mind my asking…”

[Avu]

A picnic. For Riders and Candidates – was that what she thought? R’ahre blinked, eyes narrowing slightly, but that was the only outward sign of his disbelief for the moment. For bronzeriders, yes. Brownriders, maybe. Greenriders? His favorite greenrider? No. There’d been a reason she knew defense and had taught him. Wasn’t easy for a Candidate either; for a while at the beginning his arm had been in a cast because he’d gotten it broken before he learned to hold his tongue around Riders who could throw their rank around more. Ironically, he’d been trying to protect his former weyrmate from unwanted advances, too, and the response she’d given was to flail at him and yell at him while he was at the Infirmary; didn’t he know better? He didn’t say anything to Casta immediately, though; his hands twisted absently and his chin came to rest on them, elbows pushing against his knees as he regarded the woman. He let her talk; part of him was actually curious as to her reasoning. As far as he’d ever guessed, those at Benden were more or less resigned to Benden.

Once the same question was turned on him, though, R’ahre didn’t answer nearly as quickly as Casta had. His gaze flicked up to regard her for a moment, unblinking, before he shrugged and then gestured at a relatively clear patch of grass nearby. “You might as well sit if you’re going to stick around.” The words were soft, as was usual for the bluerider, and he paused for a moment before he added, in response to her question, though he didn’t find the need to specify – “There was nothing left to live for there.” And ‘nothing’ wasn’t an exaggeration, as far as he was concerned. The Siege of Selenitas. One blow. Aiwyre and Seth both died – likely in a suicide mission, which R’ahre hated the thought of, but the greenrider had been getting so bold, too bold, in her critiques of the Weyr; and C’leon had died, too. He’d been turned slightly against the Weyrleader due to his weyrmate’s complaints, of course, but his replacement was Fort, and R’ahre had been brought up hating Fort. Hard to change one’s habits overnight.

It didn’t help that he’d been rejected constantly at Hatchings, either. Candidate, he may have been, but he’d seen what seemed like hundreds of other Candidates come and Impress, move to Weyrlinghood – all in one or two Hatchings. He’d remained. Not that R’ahre had been the only one; M’kai and Crystoph, now both at Selenitas too, had failed to Impress right along with him, but that didn’t make him feel better about it in the least.

“It wasn’t easy for anyone,” the bluerider went on. His voice was quiet, thoughtful – but the drawling Benden accent he made no effort to hide. He never did, anymore; it didn’t matter. “I don’t presume to know anything about working in the kitchens, but even Riders and Candidates…” A flicker of a sardonic smile; his mother at Nerat Hold had been a Drudge, but he’d been spared the bulk of the workload because of the fact that his father was the Lord Holder. No, the man had never cared about R’ahre, and nor was he the heir – another son had been born to the Lady Holder before R’ahre had – but if the other boy died, he would likely have been and he suspected that had been part of the reason he’d not been up to his shoulders in chores every day. Not that he was complaining…“It didn’t get easy for a long time.” Not until he’d learned to hold his tongue and let Aiwyre take care of herself.

Ahth growled – just once, an ominous rumbling. The dragon’s head tilted to regard Casta narrowly, though he made no move; his wings twitched before the almost-black creature coiled tighter. When he spoke, his voice was cold, though he did speak privately; Ahth detested the idea of bespeaking any human save for His, even Baoth’s. Stop. I don’t want to hear you think about That Place. Make her stop. The dragon’s eyes glittered, dark shades, but still he didn’t move any closer, merely regarding the Candidate. He didn’t like it at all, the mention of That Place – hated it enough that he wouldn’t even mention the name of the Weyr in question.

His Rider’s nose crinkled slightly before he flicked a dismissive hand at the blue. R’ahre tilted his head to look at Casta before he explained, “Ahth doesn’t like the mention of Benden. He wasn’t Hatched then; he doesn’t like the memories…even the good ones. Don’t mind him…” Surprising how easy it was to talk to her. Because she’d come from Benden, too, and wasn’t male; R’ahre had always had more sympathy to the women at Benden Weyr. They were the oppressed, not the oppressors, not the ones who strode around arrogantly and jumped anyone they felt like. It wasn’t something he felt comfortable discussing with M’kai or Crystoph, and he certainly didn’t like the idea of trying to explain to Anz or Nautic that he actually missed Benden sometimes – what a cheery conversation. ‘Yeah, hi, I just thought I’d stay up till midnight since you’re wherhandlers now so I could tell you that I miss Benden…just a little, but yeah.’ Brilliant.

“How long have you been here…? At Selenitas?”

[lex]

“Thank you,” Casta murmured to R’ahre as she seated herself, not sure whether to be flattered or taken aback as his offer that she should sit down with him. She hadn’t particularly noticed that he was interested in speaking to her for longer than a few minutes – but it was probably rare that he got to talk favourably about Benden with anyone. And as little as she had enjoyed herself there, Casta would always be able to find something less-than-bitter to say about it. However much she had disliked it, the place had still been Casta’s home – and she wondered if she would ever stop missing it, however slightly. When something was all you knew, it was difficult to stop feeling a deep sense of attachment to it, even if you didn’t actively love it.

She inclined her head in mute agreement with R’ahre’s statement about Riders and Candidates. True, it hadn’t been a basket of cakes for them, either – most women in Benden were treated the same, even if they rode a dragon and wore leathers instead of skirts. It had always made Casta smile that Benden had such prejudice against women, but were forced to settle them because the bigger threat of sodomy was the only alternative. If the riders of Benden hadn’t been so against the idea of male green riders, there would be no women in the dragon ranks at all. But as it was, their own hatred of men who were (in their opinions, at least) less than men was enough to make them settle for having women amongst their number. Old Petar, the teacher, had once told the youngsters that in the old, old days there had only ever been male green riders, and that the only women in the Weyrs had been those who Impressed queens. Wasn’t that a thought today, when in Benden a male green rider was publicly shunned?

“You’re right enough,” she conceded, aware of her own accent broadening in response to his. Apparently women were more likely to pick up other accents, so that they could fit more easily to another home and hearth – Casta hadn’t been aware until now that she had unconsciously been subduing her own. A strong accent led to the question ‘Where are you from?’ and then once she had told them those irritating, insufferable looks would come her way again and make her want to scream. Maybe she could get away with saying ‘Benden Weyr – and before you ask, no: I’m not a broken woman’? No, that would be insensitive to the others. It would win her no favours, and while she was here she wanted to get as much ahead as she possibly could.

Ahth’s growl made her start, and she lifted her head to regard the blue with a wary eye. Younglings in Benden were told often enough that if they misbehaved they would be eaten up, and it took a surprising amount of time for a person to get over those threats. Under the dragon’s cold regard, Casta tensed. He could probably smell the slight fear on her skin, she reflected. Dragons were like canines, that way. At his rider’s explanation of Ahth’s irritation, Casta nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, meeting the dragon’s eyes with just a touch of nervousness. No matter that R’ahre had said not to mind him – she wasn’t going to antagonise a dragon any more than she had to, and especially when she was so close to him. She could almost understand the idea that the blue wouldn’t like to think of a time when he wasn’t born, but she still tried to grasp that dragon’s thought patterns. Ahth could…think like a human? Not like a human, surely? Nothing so…no animal….nothing like a dragon could think like a human, could it?

“Only a couple of weeks,” Casta told R’ahre in response to his question. There was a slight pause, and she gave a small chuckle, looking at him with a rueful smile on her lips. “I think it’ll be at least a turn before I’m used to it, though,” she remarked, strangely comforted to be able to admit this to someone. Nobody bred here could understand why she found it strange. “Everything here is so different. The people are so…” she tried to reach for the word, not quite knowing how to phrase it. “…Cheerful. You know what I mean? So…naïve, almost.” There was a hope, a general assumption of goodness, here. It was almost the opposite of the mood at Benden.

[Avu]

Accent – yes. It was quite obvious now. R’ahre wasn’t quite sure whether or not he was pleased at this development. He’d masked his own accent for awhile – been extremely paranoid about it, actually, because at first he’d said that he was from Southern Hold, since that was where he’d been Searched from. It hadn’t been entirely difficult; he was good at mimicking others’ inflections, but it was still foreign to him. After Fort’s invasion, though, he’d relaxed until he just didn’t care anymore. If people knew he was Benden, good for them. His voice was low enough to hide the worst of the drawling but it was still quite obvious if one bothered to listen. He made no effort to point out Casta’s though; if he mentioned it, he’d be willing to bet she’d disguise it again. Couldn’t blame her for that, really. Even if he’d wanted to call it out, the brush of Ahth’s mind against his would have changed his mind; the blue was definitely irritated, cold anger building, at so much talk of That Place.

The dark blue creature coiled – there was no other way to describe the shifting sinuous motion as he drew his body around himself. Narrow eyes appraised Casta intently, though there was a shifting in the dark gaze – amusement. Had he frightened her? How amusing. Ahth was not a physically aggressive creature; the young dragon was, however, passive aggressive and if simply growling made Casta jump, growl he would. His tail flicked, lashing with surprising force against the ground. A few pebbles leapt up to attention before the blue tilted his head. The apology was not entirely lost on him but he made no response. Not to Casta directly, anyway. She should be. The words were not stated vehemently, they were just…said. Fact, to Ahth. You may tell her she is forgiven. Humans are expected to be silly creatures, after all. Females especially. A low, dismissive hiss emphasized the words before the blue’s head came to rest on his forelegs.

R’ahre didn’t follow through on Ahth’s words until after Casta had finished speaking, and even then it wasn’t immediate. His gaze was thoughtful for a moment as he nodded before he shrugged. “It’s served them well so far.” The words were deadpan, neither sarcastic nor earnest. After a moment, he added, to clarify as he leaned absently on his right knee, “There are enough people who aren’t stupid” – yes, see, he could be very, very blunt when he chose to be but he didn’t expect Casta to argue with that classification; only someone who was stupid could think Selenitas still had a way out of the War – “to keep the Weyr from falling apart.” Fortunately some of those people were in power, much as R’ahre hated to admit it; he didn’t like bronzeriders as a rule. Goldriders in general he had nothing against, but he detested Kaegan for her deserting Benden. Savitri was okay; Meira he’d never spoken to, but Ahth hated her dragon, and R’ahre would always fall back on Ahth’s opinion. “Does take some getting used to, though, yes…”

And speaking of…“He says it’s okay,” he added, indicating the blue with a flick of his wrist again. “Among other things, but he’s condescending that way…” He was pretty sure the only reason that Ahth thought ‘females especially’ were foolish was because the only two humans that he thought of at all highly were males. One of them was him – R’ahre – and the other was Baoth’s, K’lir, and that was only because he was Baoth’s. Not to mention that the one that His thought of most at That Place was female. “And, thinking of Ahth” – and Seth and Baoth – “how much contact did you have with dragons at Benden…? Can’t imagine it was a lot…” Drudges did demeaning chores, not exciting ones unless the ‘excitement’ involved pain. That was just how it worked.

[lex]

Casta kept a wary blue-grey eye on the dragon as he lashed his tail, doing her best to hide her nervousness. And it bodes so well for me, a candidate, to be scared of a dragon… But, she reflected, it was more common sense than fear. A dragon would never hurt their own human, so if she Impressed she would never fear her own bonded – but as it was, she had no idea how Ahth would behave. Casta had seen a man’s legs broken by the swipe of a bronze dragon’s tail, when he had angered the creature. They were large and dangerous predators, and she had never met one that you would call ‘tame’. No, she figured that she was allowed to be a little unnerved by the blue. After all, any harm he did her would go unpunished, so what did he have to lose by lashing out at her?

She nodded in response to R’ahre’s comment on the leaders of the Weyr. She had observed those in higher positions since she had arrived, and had access to the best source of information: drudge gossip. If you wanted to know anything about a Weyr, the workers were the people to go to – and Casta had already made a couple of acquaintances who were more than happy to let her know everything about the people who ran the place. “I’ve heard praise enough for Kaegan,” Casta remarked. She was in two minds about the woman’s departure from Benden – on the one hand, self-preservation was an admirable thing, but on the other…Casta herself felt that she would have stayed. However bad things were at Benden, surely the best thing about Impressing a queen would be that you could make things better? “But I suppose any Weyrwoman is better than Arga.” She had the disdain and dislike for Benden’s Senior gold rider that almost every woman of that Weyr shared, and it was audible in her tone.

Casta couldn’t think of anyone who liked Arga. The women universally disliked her, partly for her perceived lack of a spine, and mostly for the way she treated them. The woman was both terrified and jealous of her weyrmate – many a girl had received the slapping of her life for attracting the attention of the man that Arga viewed as hers, and hers alone. But that was the problem you got if you put a spoiled Holder girl in charge of Benden Weyr – at least in the opinion of the drudges, who had no time for her. Looking at R’ahre with a small, mirthless smile, Casta expressed the shared joke that made the rounds in servant circles: “Although many a girl owes Arga a favour. If we didn’t have her excellent example, how else would we learn how not to deal with men?” It was commonly said, and however spiteful it may be, it was true. Arga had been one of the reasons why Casta had so carefully build herself a wall of scorn and derision. It was a game among the women to turn Arga’s every mistake into a sarcastic morality tale.

So the blue had forgiven her? Good. Casta gave the dragon a small nod, wondering at the fact that he understood human body language. Did they have to learn, or did they know it instinctually from the shell? The idea of the dragon being condescending made her smile inwardly – she didn’t let Ahth see her bemusement. Her shawl was still folded in her lap, and she wrapped it around her shoulders to guard against the chill that was rapidly falling as the sun finally set. It wouldn’t get much colder, but the breeze was enough to make the hair on the back of her neck bristle at the lower temperature.

Casta considered R’ahre’s question, tilting her head slightly to the side. “Apart from the Search, this is probably the closest I’ve been to a dragon,” she said after a moment, with a glance at Ahth’s curled form. “Closest I ever got at home was when I was in a rider’s weyr, and his dragon was roosting.” And didn’t that just tell R’ahre everything about what kind of girl she was? Ah well. No matter if he thinks I’m an easy lay. He knows Benden women, and what we’re like. In Benden, pleasurable physical encounters for drudges were few and far between – the girls had a reputation in the surrounding area for being more willing than Hold-bred women. “Why d’you ask?” She turned her curious gaze back to R’ahre.

[Avu]

Really, really? R’ahre blinked twice at Casta before his nose crinkled slightly. Praise for Kaegan indeed, pfft. That she’d run away from Benden was enough to condemn her forever for the bluerider. Strategically choosing to back away was one thing; running away was another altogether. He’d left Benden too but he’d a good deal more dignity about doing so, not to mention that he’d the additional reasoning behind it: The enemy of my enemy is my friend, didn’t it go – Fort’s enemy, the North’s enemy, was Selenitas and given that all of the North was under Fort control, Selenitas was the only place left to go. And he couldn’t leave the Weyr; he liked the dragons too much. Dragons, Salamandyrs, firelizards – they were treated with a level of respect that people were not awarded immediately; R’ahre considered them more intelligent than most of their mindmates, anyway. Certainly Ahth felt that he was smarter than HisR’ahre and the Salamandyr he called the ‘little spy’.

“Hard not to be.” The words were close to noncommittal, but the hint of a sneer in them was barely audible; R’ahre had never thought highly of Arga. Not because she was C’leon’s weyrmate, but because she was so – so – so. She didn’t speak up. She didn’t have an opinion. She just existed. So irritating after he’d become accustomed to Aiwyre, who, by complete contrast, didn’t seem capable of shutting her mouth long enough for the nearest bronzerider to walk out of hearing range. Suicidal? A little, but at least she had a brain. Casta spoke again, though, and the joke earned a soft snort of amusement; a wry smile curled the corner of the bluerider’s mouth. His head tilted before he reached down to twirl a stalk of grass absently between his fingers. “Of course,” he agreed, and now the sneer was prominent. “Lead by example and all; no wonder she made such a brilliant Weyrwoman…”

Had to be said, Baith had a mind of her own. Not a good one, if the gold’s idea of a ‘good’ idea was to let Fort take over but…ugh.

Oh, Search. Right. The girl’s (though it wasn’t really fair to think of her as a ‘girl’, was it…? She seemed to be about his age) explanation made his head tilt slightly before he shrugged. Of course. Weyrs were Weyrs. He’d forgotten; Aiwyre flew into a temper every time any man tried to get her into his furs and he remembered that very clearly because he always got raged to. Not at, fortunately, but to; her upset was always poured on him. Her question in response made him blink before he shrugged. “Ahth just finds it amusing that you’re scared of him,” he responded idly. Ahth was intelligent to a ridiculous degree and the human emotion of fear was not one new to him. He looked scary, almost pure black and relatively large – but still, a growl earning actual fear was a new one. “I mean, I Impressed him at Selenitas; he hasn’t learned to fight or anything…he Hatched from Hepaticath’s first clutch.”

What, Ahth inquired, slightly testy, Inspires you to, in short, tell her not to fear me…? I don’t /mind/ being feared. It’s better than having someone I don’t know or like crawl all over me and pat me on the nose. The tone he spoke in was decidedly dismissive as it neared the end though; Ahth had better people to talk to. Or dragons, really; he was always pleasant in other company, unwavering in his façade – if it made them spill information to him, all the better. He didn’t feel the need to croon and be pleasant to a human. Much less a human who made His think about That Place and That One. Not worth his time, never mind his actual anger.

[lex]

For a moment, Casta had worried that R’ahre would turn out to be more of a supporter of Arga than she had thought – but his sneer and scathing words settled that slight fear once and for all. Good. Arga didn’t deserve anyone’s respect in Casta’s book, and she didn’t even deserve pity. Maybe if she hadn’t been so poisonous she would have been a sympathetic figure, but Casta couldn’t imagine ending up such a spiteful person: so she felt that she was allowed to view the woman in a disdainful light. He didn’t seem to be impressed greatly by Kaegan, which was interesting – she hadn’t heard a bad word about the Weyrwoman since she had arrived. She would make up her mind if she ever met the woman – which of course was so likely to happen…

Why was she wary of dragons? Casta gave a slight smile at the question – surely Ra’hre had heard the way the dragons were used to threaten people like her? Maybe he had never heard one of the speeches that the riders were so fond of giving. Her lips quirked with mischief as she deepened her voice and broadened her accent in a recognisable impression of C’leon. “‘If you don’t shut up and do as you’re told, little girl, I’ll have Mosrath rip you a new arsehole,’” she quoted, grey-blue eyes holding a curious mix of laughter and dislike at the memory. It was drudge humour which prompted her to smile at the idea – the kind of thinking that made a person make a joke out of everything to make it more bearable. Casta had plenty of that sort of humour. Sometimes it could take people by surprise, and belatedly Casta realised what a horrible thing she had just said. Suddenly, she felt a little awkward – she shrugged her shoulders inside her shawl, suddenly colder, and looked at the bluerider. “Is there anything to say that any other dragon wouldn’t be the same?” she asked. “We were always told that they’re predators who’ll go for you if you give them any cause.”

Excellent propaganda, really. It kept the drudges of Benden from wanting to get too close to the dragons, and also meant that they were more likely to be obedient towards the riders. If they stayed away from the dragons they would never lose their mystery, and dragon riding would still be seen as something remarkable – something you had to be just the right sort of person to do. Something that drudges could never dream of doing, because they weren’t worth the food they ate. Casta now realised that a lot of what she had been told wasn’t true – and now she faced the unenviable task of working out the truth from the lies. If dragons were benign, gentle creatures who could do no wrong, how could they chose such riders as C’leon, and become as vicious as the bronzes of Benden?

No, they couldn’t all be lovely and perfect – they were probably more like humans, varied and flawed in their personalities. Casta wondered if she would ever work out exactly what dragons were like, and realised that they were probably much the same as people, and you could never work out what people were like by just looking at one of them. People could be gentle or monstrous, and dragons were most likely the same. “What’s it like?” Casta asked R’ahre suddenly, more confident now that she had been talking to him for a while. “Being Impressed to a dragon. They say Baith hates Arga for what she’s doing – but how can a dragon hate their rider?”

((I’m sorry this is so late! Should be back on track now!))

[Avu]

Okay. Okay. Was it wrong that that made him want to actively snicker? R’ahre crinkled his nose in an effort to stop the laughter but it emerged as a low chuckle nonetheless; his lips curled, eyes darting sideways to glance at Casta in a look that was decidedly dark humor. It wasn’t at her expense – not really. Well, some of it was. As far as he could guess, likely Morsrath wouldn’t even consider a Drudge worth attacking unless C’leon did and from what R’ahre had heard about the man, though he’d been fortunate enough never to have had a personal run-in with the deceased Weyrleader, he wouldn’t. Ahth wouldn’t consider a person worth shredding either, after all, and he was betting a bronze was more arrogant than his beloved could ever be. That made sense, didn’t it? As the girl went on, his head tilted before one hand rose to brush at his hair lightly, absent. Predators – what? No.

“They’re not like – I don’t know, felines,” he commented softly, but her question gave him pause for a second and he hesitated. It wasn’t that R’ahre was uncertain as to the answer, but he was uncomfortable with revealing it; it seemed too personal and he knew any answer he gave would border on clichéd even though Ahth was far from your average dragon. The second question was simpler, though. “They can’t. They don’t. I mean…they can be angry at their Riders but I don’t – they can’t.” A shrug; he really didn’t think it was possible. Ahth was upset at him occasionally – often, even – but he never hated him. Never. He’d said it before but only a teasing manner, or when he was younger and was actually sulking. “Although I must admit I don’t understand what Baith was thinking…” Or Millieth. But that was beside the point and he didn’t think that such a comment would be appropriate “…when she Impressed. Maybe, I don’t know, her stomach was controlling her brain…”

Because it was okay, right, to hope that the Senior Weyrwoman of his home Weyr had been chosen by pure fluke? Totally okay…

“And…I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.” Which was a lie, in some ways; R’ahre could explain it but he didn’t feel like he wanted to because it would sound…cheesy, overrated? Complete, overwhelming love all the time, even when they were arguing? Yeah. “It’s like having…someone who…” His eyes closed momentarily, chin lifting to look up at Ahth, who was watching them silently again. The blue liked that they were discussing him, R’ahre could tell – he was an arrogant creature and that his favorite human would speak of him and of dragonkind was good, better than talk of That Place. “Who knows everything you…think, or feel, and even if they sometimes pretend” – and now his lips twitched into a dry smile – “not to care, they always do. And if they’re like Ahth, they always have an opinion.” That hadn’t been too personal, but it wasn’t anything that – Emoyan, for example, couldn’t have told her.

“It’s different, for everyone, I’d think,” he added, crinkling his nose; he didn’t mean to be uncooperative with Casta. He didn’t but it was still far too personal to tell anyone. Anyone at all. “It’s – it’s really um…startling, I suppose, having someone in – in your mind. I Impressed Sylph before I did Ahth, so it wasn’t so startling but I didn’t…expect to Impress.” He’d hoped to Impress Sylph but he’d never, ever expected Ahth – not after being rejected so many times on Benden sands.