New Arrival [open]

[Ruby]

A single carrysac hit the floor with a soft huff. Empty, almost. A shirt, a clout. A wooden plate. A canteen. Rope. A straight razor and a whetstone. Those, along with a battered cloak and the clothes on her back, were Caden's only posessions, but she counted herself lucky. She'd worked as much as she could, and stolen when she'd had to, but she'd finally made it.

Selenitas.

She'd spoken with the Headwoman and explained her situaton - well, part of it, anyway. She was a runaway, a slave from Fort, who had been a candidate and wished to stand here instead. She was supposed to see the Candidatemaster to make it official, but Emoyan was out when she knocked on his door, and the Headwoman had told Caden to pick a bunk. Sensibly, she'd pointed to a door labled 'Boys', then clapped Caden on the shoulder, thanked the new Candidate for her service to Pern, and instructed her to check in with Emoyan as soon as he was back. The woman had then bustled out, leaving Caden staring between the door marked 'Boys' and the door marked 'Girls'.

Pushing a hand through her short brown hair, the Candidate sighed, hand still on her head. "What do I do?" she murmured under her breath, eyes flicking from door to door again. This had never been a problem at Benden, where she'd moved in to the boy's barracks without thinking, the day before her devastating physical. No one had made her move, likely because no one noticed the discrepancy. In a Weyr as big as Benden, it was easy to be overlooked. But she'd been twelve, then, nearly identical to the boys she'd shared with. Now it was different, she was older, and moving in to the boy's barracks seemed wrong. She had no desire to room with the girls either - chattering, loud, tittering about boys at all hours of the night. Plus, Caden could only imagine the looks she'd get, and plucked at her oversized shirt as if to illustrate her thought. Boy's clothes, and at a breastless six feet, girls would no doubt question her arrival. What on Pern was she supposed to do?

[Requiem]

"Hm." Seems short, doesn't it? We used to have so many more weybred candidates. "Before the plague, the siege, the attacks, yes." The tall man - a full head taller than most men, in fact - hunched slightly out of habit as he passed through the doorframe, checking over a list of names from the Headwoman's census of those of age to Stand. Of course, weyrfolk didn't have to Stand, but with the numbers so low amongst the candidates S'rei was making it a point to 'run into' several of them who'd shown no interest. Testing the waters, so to speak. He wasn't recruiting, though. He didn't believe in that. If they lived here and didn't care to...well, it wasn't due to lack of information. What he was finding, however, was not that there were so many not Standing, but rather that so many had been lost that the rosters simply weren't right. Roughly 5/8th's of the names were deceased, and another quarter had moved on to the holds. Fostered or learning a craft.

Searches? "Yes...Selenitas and Blossom. We'll see about getting permission from the others." A moment passed. Done. They're leaving in pairs within the candlemark. "Probably should schedule before discussing tithes," he murmured to himself, making a note of it right on the rosters. End of this sevenday, perhaps. Tithe discussions always made LordHolders cranky. "Emoyan?" He rapped sharply on the closed door. No answer. Hmph. Inconvenience of communication without dragons. Oh well. It shouldn't be too hard to get a head count of those candidates living in the barracks instead of with their families, even if enough should be gone at this time of day that he couldn't really get any names or other information.

He noticed the tall lad in front of him right before he nearly plowed him over, the Weyrleader - sans knots - stopping abruptly. A glance at the young man was enough to determine that first, he'd just gotten here, and second, he'd been traveling for some time. S'rei took a step back, folding the sheaf of papers in one hand. "You look a bit lost there," he commented mildly. "Probably had no more luck finding the Candidatemaster than I did. Can I help you find something?" It occurred to him that introducing himself might be polite, but it was always interesting to the man to see how people acted when they didn't know who he was. Titles and dragon colors could make for very false presentations from other people, he found.

[Ruby]

Caden had spun as soon as she heard someone in the hallway, hand on back pocket, brown eyes searching for enemies. Letting out the breath she'd caught when the tall man entered the room, she relaxed, brow momentarily furrowed. She was about to ask if he was Emoyan when he knocked on the Candidatemaster's door, pretty effectively eliminating that possibility. Even someone as slow as Caden sometimes was could figure that one out. She turned back to the doors, prepared to ignore him when he started talking to himself. A Rider, then, or a nut. Having grown up in a Weyr, she figured Rider was most likely.

Still contemplating, Caden took a surprised step back when S'rei almost bowled her over, finding herself looking distinctly up at his grey-hazel eyes despite the distance between them. She was tall enough to match most men - it was rare to find one who was distinctly taller, although there had been some around Benden. Rare to be so close to them, anyway. Another step back was in order, leaving Caden slightly farther away from S'rei than was probably polite. "Uh. No?" was her incredibly verbose response to his question - she didn't need help finding anything, exactly. It wasn't an off-putting or sarcastic 'no', though; she just sounded confused. More interesting for S'rei, perhaps, was that she was startled, driving her voice (already high for a teenage boy) into realms that were most likely suspicious. Clearing her throat, Caden tried again, voice appropriately pitched this time. "Not lost, sir, just looking for the Candidatemaster. Emoyan."

Bending to retrieve her carrysac from the floor and sling it over her shoulder, she absentmindedly assumed a 'ready' stance - feet shoulder-width apart, arms at her sides, eyes to the floor. Used to waiting for instructions, the Candidate did just that, expecting to be looked over and dismissed, or questioned. She was hoping for dismissed.

[Requiem]

Too close, hm? He watched the candidate back up, not really feeling any remorse or anything like that for apparently making the lad feel uncomforta- His eyes widened for a moment. Not significantly, no, but there was a distinct reaction to the squeak in - her? - voice. Too high for a boy. Unless his voice was cracking, and even then...hm.

If his reaction had been something of surprise before, now it was even moreso. Unfortunately for Caden, S'rei was all too familiar with Benden. The accent. The practices. Benden and Fort. He didn't react to her by adopting the mannerisms of a Benden bronzerider, though perhaps it was her demeanor that brought out the sternness in his. "Emoyan, child? He definitely isn't here, so you might as well settle in."

The parchments were rolled and placed into the carrying case at his thigh, along with several other documents already inside. "Before you do that, though...Benden raised and trained? Which was it? A green or a blue?" It wasn't hard to divine, no, from her stance and manner alone that she was a Benden dragonrider. Even a spy, however, would not come without their dragon. Which left really only one option: there wasn't a dragon to come with.

[Ruby]

Well, shells. Caden had never really been a good liar (with one obvious exception, but she hadn't really been lying about her gender, just continuing her mother's for the sake of simplicity). Still, she hadn't expected her past to be outed so quickly. Especially not Smath. Then again, she hadn't expected anyone to take any interest in her either. Perhaps the assumption that all Weyrs were generally the same hadn't been a safe one to make, but she couldn't come up with any reason why they wouldn't be the same, so she'd gone right on assuming. She didn't quite manage to put together the fact that if this unknown Rider could identify her as a Benden rider so easily, he must have been one himself, or at least been familiar with them, but even that wouldn't have changed her response.

"Yes sir, Benden," she half-spat, the bitterness there quite clear, thank you very much. She paused slightly before she went on, steeling herself against the memories that were sure to come. "And he was a Blue. Smath," she added, not that the Rider would know the name, or care. It just didn't seem right to refer to her Smath as just 'a blue'. And yes, there were the memories - foremost among them Impression and Fort, where Caden had lost far more than half of her heart. It was only sheer force of will and the numbing effects of slavery that kept her from breaking down, though she did turn her gaze to the ceiling to keep her eyes from tearing up. The loss was still new enough to burn.

[Requiem]

S'rei had no intention of probing into details. There were...several possibilities, but none of them particularly mattered in the face of the obvious emotion in her voice regarding Benden. Whether punished by her own weyr or captured by the enemy, it hardly mattered; she'd severed ties with Benden. That or she was a remarkable actress. If she was, though, she would have been much more careful about concealing where she came from. And probably also better at disguising her gender. If that was, indeed, the intent. It didn't really seem like she was concealing anything...more like this was just how she naturally was. Force of habit? A natural inclination since birth? Again, more questions he didn't really intend to ask, though it wasn't natural for S'rei not to analyze, to ask questions internally. He was surprisingly good at getting information, but first you had to know it was there to be had.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. Smath. Not a dragon he knew, but then, he wouldn't. Not with someone so young. Losing Salenth would kill him. This S'rei knew. He was fine with that, though...the thought of living without the dragon bonded to him since he was twelve, over twenty-five turns ago now, was so far beyond incomprehensible that the idea that he couldn't survive without him wasn't bothersome. One of the hardest things for S'rei had always been dealing with the dragonless. Especially the dragonless that used to be under his command. "You are a strong woman. We've had...one re-Impress since I returned home over six turns ago. K'lir. But he had just come to the Hatching. He wasn't Standing." Technically Meira had re-Impressed, too, but she'd been bonded to a wher. S'rei didn't know much, but he did know that if a wher could survive without his bonded, the bond must not be as close as that of dragon and rider.

"I hope you don't take offense, but I'm going to have to ask that you at least talk to Raebeli, our Mindhealer. It's pretty much routine. In fact, I've been planning on discussing changing our policy to have her screen all our candidates with Emoyan. We have so many from the north now." Not to mention the southern weyrbred candidates who had been here throughout the battles and plagues.

[Ruby]

He was sorry. Caden shifted uncomfortably, trying to turn off her brain, sink into numbness, anything. She would not cry, not here in this strange Weyr confronted by a Rider. She was much stronger than that. Trying to distract herself, she took a good look at S'rei, committing him to memory. She drew no conclusions, simply observed. Caden knew better than anyone that judging by appearances was asking to be wrong. Luckily, he didn't try to hug her or say anything sappy. She'd kind of expected it, from what she knew of the South, but she was spared, thank Faranth. So S'rei got a more heartfelt "Thank you," than he probably expected, though her eyes remained on the ceiling and her stance stayed ramrod straight.

She only straightened more when he called her 'young woman'. Well, that was that, cover 100% blown. Her mouth tightened a touch, thinning to a potentially dangerous line. Not the Rider's fault, of course, so she assigned no anger to him, keeping it focused on herself. Things had gotten harder since she was little. She was looking more like an actual woman with each passing year, as distasteful as that was. Her own fault. "Yes, sir. Not exactly expecting or wanting to re-impress, just don't know anything but Dragonriding. It is too late to learn a craft, I am no good at cooking or cleaning, and I think I may still kill myself if I am forced to be useless for the rest of my life. Standing, at least for the next few years, seems like the only sensible option." Her tone was not humorous, nor pathetic - she was simply conveying information. No reaction was required.

The mindhealer was no surprise; there was one available at Benden, although no one Caden knew had ever visited him. Predictably, Caden wasn't offended - she treated the request as an order. Orders were to be followed. "None taken," she replied. "Should I check with Emoyan before setting up an appointment, or go straight to this Raebeli? And should I say you sent me?" Basically, without realizing, Caden was asking if the Rider reported to Emoyan, or the other way around (although in the Barracks, Emoyan's rule would pretty much be law). She'd never ask straight out where a knotless man ranked, though if he was a Rider he'd rank her automatically, but it didn't mean she didn't want to know.

[Requiem]

Initial assessment rescinded. Given her expression - and it certainly wasn't hidden from the tall man simply because she was looking up - it seemed that she didn't want to be noticed for a woman. Well, he had no intention of outing her if she felt the need to maintain that illusion, though at Selenitas it wouldn't mean much one way or the other, man or woman. She'd learn that soon enough, no doubt. They all did. Some of them ended up...a little odd...because of it, too. Give a caged person freedom and interesting things tended to happen.

"Mm. I could see that." He'd never known anything else, either. Born and raised Selenitas, Impressed to Salenth at the age of twelve...twenty-seven turns later the idea of being or doing anything else seemed highly fantastical. "Well, we wouldn't ask you to do drudgery - apart from the usual chores for candidates - unless that was what you wanted. The Candidatemaster himself is qualified to train harpers, we've journeymen healers, dragonhealers and a mindhealer who can take on apprentices, as well as a glasscrafter...and if you wished to practice a craft unofficially there are several other crafters at apprentice and junior journeyman level. If you want to Stand, it couldn't hurt to learn something else you're interested in." He shrugged one shoulder. The information was less because he didn't think she could discover it for herself, but intended to eliminate any questions as to whether or not a woman was welcome to learn.

Her question drew a small smile from his lips. "I'll inform Emoyan that I sent you to see Raebeli, so he's not looking for a missing new candidate." His fingers tapped along his thigh lightly. "It's up to you if you wish to tell her, though she'd probably treat it differently knowing it was a routine request. S'rei's the name." An all too well-known name, among Benden riders and Fort riders alike, however she was young enough that it might just possibly be one of those names associated with distant past events that didn't trigger an immediate response. "When I speak to Emoyan, what name should I give him?" he questioned mildly.

[Ruby]

"I'll look into it, sir. You're right - can't hurt," she added. Absolutely no reason to whine about the fact that she'd tried several crafts and failed. Although the Rider's suggestion was just that, Caden being Caden, she'd take it as an order. She was now officially required to at least look into crafting, and she should not fail. She'd find something. Tannercraft, maybe, since she already knew how to work with leather. That was a start.

So, the rider would inform Emoyan, which of course told her nothing. The name, though was one she recognized. S'rei, sometime Benden Wingsecond, now Selenitas' wingsecond if she wasn't mistaken (which she wasn't). She knew him as one of those mythical figures that don't really exist; someone hated by C'leon before her time, transferred away as soon as she Impressed. C'leon had feared him, so there was some lingering, long-bred dislike for the name, but he'd defected from Fort, too, and now he lead the Weyr that was Caden's last chance. And he was being nice. Her eyes widened a touch (as per S'rei's assessment, she was neither a good liar nor a good actress), but conflicting feelings about the Bronzerider kept her mouth shut. Caden knew if you didn't know what to say, it was better to say nothing at all, so she simply looked, trying to figure out how a cautionary tale from her childhood actually existed here, now.

Oh right, he'd asked her a question somewhere in there. "Caden," she offered, half-bemused and slurring the first syllable like it had a rider's apostrophe. "And I'll just put my bag down before I go see the Mindhealer. Thank you for your help, S'rei, sir." He hadn't ordered her to see the Mindhealer after all, so he wasn't expecting her to go immediately. Or if he was, he could correct her now. Stooping to collect her bag, she cast one final look at the boy's door before heading for the girl's barracks. He knew, so she had no choice. Oh well, the girls would get used to it, and Caden could take care of herself.