Culture shock, much? [tag; anyone?]

[glamourie]

Chittering sounded from Beggar as he flopped around in the shallows of the swimming area, barred off by the natural rocks and dams. The river was one of the few areas that Rawign knew his way to efficiently and he'd finished his chores and lessons in time to go down to visit. Some of the dragons were probably sunning near by, but he chose not to pay much attention as he perched on one of the rocks. And perch was the best description of how he sat on it, his knees pulled up slightly, his boots scuffing against the side of the rock while his fingers grasped uneven edges to keep himself balanced. Beggar might have been at ease rolling around in the water, but he, Rawign, was not. He could swim, of course, being the sun of a fisher it was a necessity, but... There was nothing that he was completely comfortable with at Selenitas Weyr yet. Maybe that was unfair of him, since Rawign had completely caved in on himself, blocking his feelings away behind an aloof, disinterested air, but the entire Weyr intimidated him and so did everyone in it; the river was no exception to that rule. He'd sit on his rock where he was safe. It was still early in the afternoon for the perch to be pleasant, at least.

What to make of the Weyr, that was the real question. He'd heard stories of Selenitas, mainly from drunken old harpers, but it never really dawned on Rawign as a possibility that he might end up there. Why would it, when he'd been born and raised in Nerat, and then Healer CraftHall near Fort? If he was likely to end up in any Weyr, would it not be that one? But then, Healers were stationed everywhere, and he'd specifically asked to be sent to any place but the two Weyrs. It never even occurred to him that there was a third, and he was quite convinced the decision to send him to Selenitas was done out of spite. Imagine his surprise, then, when he arrived and was informed he was to be a candidate by one of the Riders? He'd blinked, but hadn't argued. In his experience, it was usually better not to argue. Arguing got him in trouble, made people angry. His opinions were better kept to himself, where no one could pass judgment on him.

And his opinion was that there was virtually no chance of him Impressing anything. The Weyr seemed so.. populated. So many people, so many faces to remember. Rawign was raised to believe that it was his responsibility to remember the names of all of the dragonriders - and there were quite a few to remember. His mind spun with different honorifics, dragon names and colours, and it was honestly enough to make his head hurt. Then there were the candidates, of whom he had spoken to none. How was he to be expected to remember all of their names? And to compete with them to Impress? He knew he wouldn't; Rawign was not conceited enough to believe he had a chance. He was also intelligent enough to keep that thought to himself, because he was certain if he told anyone he would be lectured about his pessimism. But how could he not be pessimistic, with the conflicts between the Weyrs dominating the north? To be anything but would be foolish.

Beggar chirped and rolled over in the water, enjoying the feeling of it against his dark blue hide. He was hard to identify and locate, though the splashing gave him away. Rawign envied him, in a way. The blue had no trouble whatsoever adjusting to the changes, as though he were made for them. He'd been happy to come to a place with so many dragons and firelizards and whers, as though all of them were his cousins and he was quite happy to see them - long lost family. At least someone was managing to fit in, because Rawign felt like he was completely out of place. Culture shock was an understatement; Weyrlife, no matter what Weyr, was very different from being raised in a Hold and then training to become a Journeyman at Healer CraftHall, and some of the changes were taking a long time to get used to. Like the generally relaxed attitude, actually. He felt ... well, under-worked, and continually wanted to find new things to be doing. But he was also too resigned enough to ask anyone. What he wanted was for someone to come up to him and tell him what he needed to be doing, really.

At least Beggar was happy. Rawign wrinkled his nose silently and laid his forehead against his knee. The shorter strands of his hair, much of which was pulled back from his face, hung around his cheekbones, and his eyes were closed. For all the world, Rawign looked to be sound asleep...

[Administrator]

Marra stretched out her legs experimentally on the shore, her shorts already filling up with the sharp, rocky pebbles. She flinched, automatically brushing at them with obvious irritation. However, she she picked her legs up to do so, she realized that the little stones stuck to her calves as well, and, at brushing them away, sighed in exasperation at the pock-marks left. She wished she could wash them off, but she had no desire to swim. It was too much of a hassle, getting wet and needing to bathe immediately after. She didn't feel like getting dirty today.

Bouncing up, she brushed absently at her legs once more. She had come here because she was irritated with the chaos of the Weyr. There were so many people pestering her to ask what C'leon was up to, but why would she know? Just because she was a harper she would automatically know what was going on with intra-Weyr affairs? Perhaps she should. However, S'rei and Shmee were cooped up in their weyr and offices doing Faranth-knows-what that they apparently hadn't deemed it necessary to let a harper know of this affair. Sighing, she picked up her sandals from next to her, and stepped lightly along the stones. Approaching the rockier part of the shore, she smiled a little. She knew a pleasant little spot that few ventured to. It was quiet and peaceful, where she could hear the ripple of the dammed area and the roaring of the waterfall nearby.

Not paying attention to what might be below, she took a moment to survey the Weyr as she crept around. From this distance, she could see a couple dragons lounging on the rocks. She sighed in irritation. It appeared to be a green, close to Flight, flicking her tail flirtatiously at the male next to her. Rolling her eyes, she remembered Robika, how the woman could be when Kmarath was about to Rise. Remembering the embarassing situation with the others back in the dining hall, she flushed. How had Robika's Flight been? She tried remembering, but to no avail. Actually, she hadn't even seen the woman since Aslath's Flight.

Deciding to seek out the woman later, her eyes descended back into the river, still not noticing the other person here. However, she did notice the flitter. Her brow shot up in mild surprise. Wild flitters didn't wander this close to the Weyr. They tended to hide in the jungle. Looking around suspiciously, her eyes quickly located a youthful man. She frowned. She didn't recognize him.

Figuring it best to not disturb him, she shook her head in irritation. Not the best at new social situations, she decided to just get back to her apartments. However, she she pivoted, she slipped on the rock that had gotten wet from the gentle laps of water. Shrieking in surprise more than fear, she crashed onto the rock, skinning her knee slightly. "Shard it!" she cursed, flipping her knee up to examine the damage. It stung from that slip, and it wasn't bleeding terribly. Flinching, she clenched her teeth as she waited for the pain to pass. Hopefully that boy hadn't noticed...

[glamourie]

The sound of shrieking made Rawign jump, which was quite a feat considering his curled up position. He slid back on the rock and almost fell off it as his head turned to the side, searching out the source of the sound. Heartbeat racing, he mentally scolded himself for getting so lost in thought as to completely forget what he was doing or where he was. He should have been paying more attention, someone could have sneaked up on him - and someone had! But it was a girl and Rawign's usual reaction, which would have been one of privately scolding himself, completely faltered when he saw that she'd obviously hit her knee on something; the way she was examining it could mean absolutely nothing else. And Ligna never raised any rude children. He had the distinct visual of her abruptly manifesting to yell at him if he dared to ignore the fact that someone had fallen down in front of him.

So it was that he hopped off the rock with almost feline agility and knelt down next to the girl. Closer examination made it clear of who she was - Marra was a Harper was she not? That was her name, if he recalled correctly. She was younger than him, by the looks of things by several Turns - the idea that she might be his age never once entered his mind. She looked too young to be a Journeywoman, what in the world was she doing at the Weyr? Maybe an apprentice? Strange thought, but then, stranger things had happened... like, oh, him impressing a flitter, or him being brought to a strange Weyr as a candidate. Yes, stranger things happened all the time.

"Are you all right?" He hadn't seen the fall but if the sounds of her shrieking and swearing had any been any indication, it was probably a rather nasty one. Still, a quick glance at her knee made it relatively clear that she wasn't hurt that badly. Maybe she'd just been shocked? He brought one hand up to brush the long black bangs away from his cheeks, dark green eyes settling on the small scuff. It would probably sting, but there was nothing doing. Skinned knees and bruises weren't major injuries most of the time, and she didn't look as though she'd broken any of her bones. "It looks like just minor scuffing, not even any blood. The stinging will probably subside in a matter of minutes. You're actually lucky. If you'd broken the skin, we would have had to go inside to clean it carefully. These rocks are primarily clean - or so they look - but better safe than sorry, I've heard of numerous infections coming from the jagged edges of rocks around water..."

Slipping into Healer-mode had successfully banished whatever trepidation Rawign felt about speaking to a perfect stranger. Though he made no move to touch her (some people were very demanding of their personal space and Rawign only invaded it if he had to in order to treat a wound), Rawign was going over the injury in his mind and any possible treatment for it. Numbweed was by far overkill for such a small knick. Actually, scuffing like that didn't even really require a Healer, although he'd wrap it happily if she asked. Something to do at last that didn't involve thinking about why he was there, whether or not he'd ever fit in, or if he'd get lost for the umpteenth time since his arrival!

It occurred to him that he didn't offer his name only a moment after he spoke and he looked up with a wry smile on his face, "I'm Rawign." He offered one hand to her casually. "Believe it or not, a Journeyman Healer who just transferred. And ---"

Before he could answer, Beggar swept up out of the water and proceeded to chatter noisily at Marra, as though he was offended that she'd fallen down so near to him. Still slightly wet, the firelizard glided over to perch on Rawign's shoulder and spit once, eyes whirling rapidly. Rawign gave him a dirty look; wasn't he over-reacting just a tad? But Beggar did not appear to notice, for after his 'scolding' was through he'd forgotten what he was upset over in the first place and instead chirped inquisitively at the young Harper. Maybe she had some food to give him? ... Because food was always the first and foremost thing on Beggar's mind, especially upon meeting new people.

"-- And this is Beggar. I'm sorry for his behavior. I don't know what he's so upset over, he was making more of a fuss than either of us by far. You're Marra, aren't you?"

[Administrator]

Marra's blue eyes flickered up at the voice, giving him a look of obvious irritation with the present situation. Shard it. She probably had woken the dead with all her shrieking. Sighing, she nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just took a fall," she told him impatiently, looking back down at her knee curiously. Pink and red, yes, but not actively bleeding. Irritated that she had screeched over nothing like a weyrbrat, she trained her eyes to look at the boy with boredom. Trying to drop the hint that she knew she wasn't going to die, she lazily thrust her head back, tilting it slightly to the right as she placed her arms on the rock behind her. She was all dirtied and wet now, she thought with frustration. So it wouldn't have mattered if she had gone swimming anyway; she would still have to bathe once she got to her apartment.

She suppressed a groan as the boy started babbling basic lore. "I'm fine," she snapped in exasperation. "I just surprise easily. I've been here a Turn already, I think I know the rocks around here could potentially infect someone." Smoothing out her bunned hair, she looked at him suspiciously. Wondering why he was being so bold as to telling her what to do, she added, "And what are you supposed to be? A healer?"

However, that question was answered a mere breath later. Sighing, she rolled her eyes. So much for her sarcasm. Etiquette calling her to shake his hand, she did so loosely. "Nice to meet you, then, Rawign. I'm-" However, before she could finish introducing herself, the flitter who had alerted Marra to a human presence came up, scolding her ferociously. Though she was far from scared, she blinked in surprise. She didn't know some flitters could be so hostile. She knew that one of the greenriders had a couple of nasty flitters, but they reflected their bonded's nature, she supposed.

Then, in a heartbeat, the flitter wasn't annoyed any more. Raising an eyebrow skeptically, she looked back up at Rawign. She didn't know what this flitter was chirping to her about. Deciding it was best to ignored him, she folded her arms and concentrated her attention back on the healer. She frowned for a moment. How did he know her name? "Yeah, I'm Marra," she replied absently. "If I may be so bold, how did you know that when I had not a clue as to who you are?"

Grimacing, she slowly stood up, placing her weight gingerly back onto her leg. Pleased to see it only was throbbing a little, she placed one hand on her hip, the long sleeve of her white tunic floating over her fingers. "You new? I haven't seen you around before," she told him matter-of-factly, her low voice a sharp contrast to her high-pitched shriek from earlier, the only hint of her soprano range. In fact, one might never guess from her speaking voice that she was a singer, let alone a soprano.

[glamourie]

Well, wasn't someone hostile? The first reaction Rawign had was to smile, say he was glad she was fine, and then promptly walk off. It was in his nature to avoid conflict, to run away from potential disagreements, not because he couldn't defend himself (He was quite happy to do so, thank you very much) but because he didn't like fighting; he'd outgrown the love of arguments and debates, but apparently she hadn't, or so he assumed. Then again, since she looked as though she couldn't be a day over fifteen turns, he supposed expecting that of her would be highly unfair. Maybe he had brought it on himself, too, by speaking to her. He was well-aware he didn't fit in or belong, and the girl's behavior just further emphasized that in his mind, though he chose not to act on all of his instincts which were screaming for him to leave before he did something foolish. He was, however, glad of his tendency to not touch people. If her evident hostility was anything to judge by, that would likely have gotten him slapped. Not that being slapped by women was particularly foreign to Rawign - he had the most unusual talent for putting his feet in his mouth.

See: His behavior already.

"I apologize for implying you might not already know that," he replied, as diplomatically as he could while attempting to school his voice to a calm. It only barely worked; there was an underlying thread of annoyance that was detectable to all who were remotely perceptive regarding human nature. He was a decent actor when he needed to be, but Rawign was young, and that youth robbed him of the self-control that older men might have had. Only training as a Healer had taught him patience, and he was grateful for that at the least. His apology wasn't a lie, though. He really hadn't meant to imply anything about what she would or wouldn't know, but Rawign was used to dealing with people who put on the tough guy act. In his experience, injured parties took on either that one or the incessantly whiny persona. The former involved refusing to admit any kind of pain, grin-and-bear it sort of attitude and those were really among the worst because it was harder to treat them and they made for impossible charges. He'd once treated a boy with a broken leg, when he was still training (he'd had help, of course) and the boy insisted on walking around, which continually jarred the injury. Listening impaired. Then there were the ones who would cry and flail over the smallest of scuffs, and they were more annoying still. Whatever happened to happy mediums?

Rawign decided that Marra was definitely a type one charge - very much the type to wander around on a broken ankle just to prove she could. He was smart enough not to vocalize that observation, but then, Rawign rarely stated his actual opinions aloud unless he was specifically asked to do so. People got themselves into trouble, blabbing their thoughts all about. No one really cared what a lowly Journeyman Healer and Candidate thought anyway - of that he was sure. At her first question, Rawign smiled, but it was one of his fake ones. He had three types of smiles. The first was the fake one, thrown up as a matter of manners, and that was what Marra received. The second was genuine, slightly more fragile but not quite, more real and not quite as pretty, and the third was downright devious. His real smiles were among the rarest of emotions displayed by Rawign.

"I see it as my responsibility to memorize the names of all dragonriders as well as their dragons, and also of all Craftsmen, especially at a place that I happen to be staying at. As you are a Harper, your name was one of the ones I made a point of memorizing, along with your face. The rider who brought me here pointed you out to me," he explained with a lofty shrug that could have said anything and nothing at once. Her next question made him shrug. "New, yes. I just transferred here from Healer CraftHall." He made no mention that he was a candidate simply because it rarely occurred to him to remember that fact. Since he was sure he wouldn't Impress, he didn't dwell on it; the lessons were interesting enough, though, so he supposed himself very grateful. He liked learning, if nothing else.

Rising to his feet, Rawign dusted himself off and looked Marra over once, before adding casually, "But since I know you're not hurt, I guess I should let you get back to what you were doing." He was fairly sure she didn't want to be burdened with his presence; she sounded as though she didn't want any company, at least from her treatment of him when he'd come over to her side. Of course, that could have been embarrassment talking, and would have been were it him who had fallen, but Rawign didn't know her well enough to guess and he didn't want to assume. He wasn't the type to inflict his presence on anyone who didn't want him around. There was a reason Rawign had no friends. He was only forceful when he needed to be.

[Administrator]

Marra's harper ears, as well as her constant lookout for any sign of hatred toward her, picked up on the faint, almost unrecognizable strain of annoyance in his tone. Smiling drolly, she replied, "Healer Hall is not a long distance from Harper Hall, in case you have forgotten that, Rawign." Using his name carefully, she remembered that using people's names in a sentence made her sound more sincere in her words, perhaps something that Rawign would trust. She paused, filing through her words to figure out what she had said that would make him quietly irritated. Of course, there were many possibilities, she thought with cold amusement. Curiosity settled over Marra, and she looked straight into his dark eyes, the complete opposite of her light blue-grey ones. She was interested, as always, to find what it was about her that bothered people, a sort of grim hobby. She spent a moment, looking at his eyes, wondering how long she could hold his gaze before he would incomfortably look away. This cruel game of reading people was one that came oddly easy to Marra, who was forever trying to read the character of humans.

"So, you look at my face often?" she asked, letting amusement mingle with irritation in a complicated tone she had managed to perfect over her Turns of using it. "I find it peculiar how I have never seen yours, yet you recognize mine in an instant." She let this masked insult sink, suggesting stalker-like tendencies, but not truly meaning it. A further part in her game of reading people, she thought with satisfaction. Letting loose a sigh with an almost musical quality, she added, "I would highly suggest making friends if all you do is stare at people's faces." This was a long shot, she knew, but she had a hunch that if he had nothing better to do than memorize peoples' names, then he had not a social life to speak of. Even Marra had a social life, albeit a small one. Actually, she thought, almost frowning, she felt rather sorry for the healer if that was the case. "But, I digress," she stated firmly, waving her hand in dismissal of the subject. "Just keep in mind that looking at the faces of people will not help you gain friends- unless it's a lover you look for," she added with a musical laugh. "And even then, it's doubtful."

Merely nodding in response to his statement that he was new, she nodded firmly. "All the more reason for you to get friends, hm?" she told him absently, flicking a pebble off of her thigh. Frowning at the pockmark it left in her flesh, she turned back up at Rawign, eyes scanning his face for more forms of irritation. She was half-tempted just to push him to see how far it would go before his annoyance with her was obvious, but that would make what she was doing baiting him, and the provoking of others was generally frowned upon.

She let out a short, amused sound when he told her that he'd let her go back to her business. "What I was doing before?" she asked, chuckling a bit. "I think what I was doing before was turning around so as not to disturb you, hence my slip," she told him, shrugging. "But, as you can see, I disturbed you anyway..." Looking back down at her knee, she admired the large scrape for a moment before looking back up, crossing her arms as she cocked her eyebrow. "So, now that we're here- both disturbed- why not make the most of it and get you used to social situations, hm?" Part of this reason was to see how far she could push his buttons to make him livid with her, but partially because she was just curious by what personality she could read of him so far.

[glamourie]

No, Harper Hall wasn't far from Healer Hall, but Rawign would not have claimed himself to be as knowledgeable about music and ballads as a Harper and he found it mildly conceited that she would imply she was as knowledgeable about healing as he was. Or perhaps he was simply reading far too much into her words? He decided not to dwell on it, instead meeting her eyes when she looked at him. He did not flinch nor cringe away because despite being awkward at such a new place, Rawign was anything but easily intimidated; he'd been raised to meet someone's eyes when conversing, and as long as they were talking, he would do just that. Especially since she was implying he stared at her, which struck Rawign as casually amusing. Yes, he often stared at her, of course, because a Healer had absolutely nothing better to do than that. Let her think whatever she wanted, if it catered to her ego. Honestly, she looked like a child to him, and he was not interested in children. Maybe that thought was on the cruel side, or at the very least condescending (Rawign was not without his own ego, after all), but really, he found it hilarious that the girl thought she was in his league. She wasn't, not really. He just had a very good memory for faces and a Harper who looked considerably younger than he was - and yet was a Journeywoman! - was something that would remain in his mind. Stuck out, as it were.

The more she spoke, the more amused he felt. He didn't have any friends at Selenitas, and he made no effort to change that. The fact that he memorized so many names - and admitted it - must have been clear indication. If she was trying to insult him (which, from the way she spoke, he was guessing she was), she was going about it the wrong way. Friends had never been important to Rawign. Not at Healer CraftHall and not at Selenitas. He liked having people he could casually talk to if the need arose, but for the most part he kept to himself. The truth was, Rawign was on the shy side, always had been; he could count on one hand how many people he would consider his friends, and of them, he always knew more about them than they did about him. Secretive was the young Healer, and he kept his confidence well. Growing up in the north had jaded him to trust. Too much going on, too much conflict... he had no desire to trust anyone, if he could help it. Humans were good at betraying one another. It was one of the things they did best.

The word lover made him outright laugh. He couldn't stop himself and he turned his head away, one hand coming to his mouth to stifle the sound. But she would have heard him, and he didn't expect anything else. How funny.

"And are you an expert on finding lovers at Selenitas Weyr, Harper Marra?" asked Rawign once the laughter subsided; it only took him a few moments to compose himself, and he knew the sound was absolutely terrible. Mocking was the best definition of the laughter and he knew it -- but how could he resist? The girl couldn't be more than fifteen, he'd wager from the way she looked, and she was talking to him about finding lovers. If he wanted help (which he didn't), he would not have gone to a child for it! He should have tried harder to stop himself, but it was shocking to hear her talk so casually about it and he knew the sarcastic comment (no matter how sweet his voice sounded, so innocent and suggestive, "Look how cute I am, you couldn't possibly hurt me!") was uncalled for. Oh well. She'd walked into it, or so he justified in his mind.

Rawign's mild agitation made Beggar chirp just once, then his eyes whirled with worried yellows. The blue gave another quiet flute and then disappeared between; Rawign was annoyed, and neither he nor the girl were going to be handing food over, so why stay? He would go beg someone else.

The Healer blinked at his shoulder where Beggar was and flicked his fingers over the wet spot on his shirt before turning his attention right back to Marra. Was she always so unpleasant? In his experience, Harpers were usually nice. But then, he supposed there must have been different types for everything. Not every Harper had to be kind and charismatic. And she clearly was not the latter; maybe underneath the obviously-conceited exterior was something nicer, but he didn't particularly care enough to try and find out. She wanted to get him used to social situations? He was under the impression that of the two of them, he was the far more people-friendly, at least from his experience thus far, but he chose not to say that. He'd bite, simply out of curiosity. But he fully expected to get his nose singed soon enough for doing so. "And how do you intend to do that, I wonder?"

[Administrator]

So, he must be assertive in some way, Marra gathered as Rawign met her gaze evenly and steadily. So, not as much of a pushover as she’d originally thought. Smiling knowingly, she was the first to break that hold with a blink, casting her head to the side as she looked him over in a lazy picture. Unaware that he was taking her character probing as love interest, she rolled through what she had come up with of his personality in her mind. He was a loner, but not a shy one. Perhaps one that simply didn’t like being around people? That sounded all too much like herself. Yet, unlike her, he also seemed to assume that everyone was stupid, judging from the way he had attended her slip. He also was annoyed with her now. That was certain.

Raising an eyebrow at his laugh, she smirked. So, he was also capable of amusing. She was pleased that she had managed to make a joke that was able to be laughed at. Any good jokes she made were usually unintentional, and the few she did try on purpose never succeeded, usually always resulting in an awkward silence with Marra muttering a ‘Never mind.’ However, his own question caught her off guard. “Ha!” she barked, rolling her eyes frigidly. “Of course I’m not. Why else would proddy greenriders try to set me up with random passersby?” she demanded haughtily. Irritated still by Robika’s enthusiastic determination to shove Marra into some poor man’s furs, she grunted with obvious annoyance. She didn’t believe in love. An illusion merely. “If you’re interested in finding lovers, I’m positive Robika would love to give you a hand, considering I’m not much of a service in that area. She’s a greenrider, though I don’t need to tell you that. I’m sure you know her face and everything about her.” Her tone had turned icy with her past few sentences, but she was avidly curious about where Robika was. She usually saw the woman running round quite a bit… She cleared her head, puzzled at her sudden anger. Tapping her hand on her thighs rigidly, she narrowed her eyes at Rawign.

Her temper was starting to flare up, she thought bitterly. Great. Now her experiments to discover Rawign’s personality would have to be cut short, unless she planned on putting him through one hell of a time. Well, it would be a curious experiment, some part of her brain whispered to her deviously. That thought was sorely tempting, but she had more self-control than that! Glaring at him lightly, she replied, “Well, as you are so adverse to the offer to help, I’ll change my mind. Deal with it, off to your loner self.” Angry, she turned around again- and slipped promptly in the same spot, slamming her knee back in the same place.

“Shard the blasted egg!” she cursed, flinching as she slowly moved her leg in front of her once more, gripping the rock beneath her as she clenched her teeth. She had hit it harder this time, she noted with grisly amusement as she looked at the blood welling up from an already scraped up knee. Whereas it had been merely throbbing before, now it hurt. Her face contorting into one of suppressed pain, her lips thinned and her brows furrowed deeper than they had at this meeting yet. Nothing was broken, she could tell- it didn’t hurt that much- but she supposed hitting it again just aggravated the pain. Her eyes flickered back up to Rawign, as if daring him to comment on how idiotic her situation must look, slipping twice in the same spot.

[glamourie]

Ha! He'd gotten under her skin. Her defensive response made that perfectly clear and Rawign resisted the urge to smile nastily in response. He instead gave her an innocent look, as much as he could muster, which for Rawign wasn't much; he was tall and dark in appearance, and no part of him resembled a child anymore. Still, he was pretty good at it when he tried. He did his best to look as though he hadn't intended to imply that she was... active - which was exactly what he'd been implying, just as he felt she was implying he couldn't find someone even if he wanted to. Often, Rawign assumed the worst about people, as a direct result of having been raised in the north. Growing up around a war was enough to jade someone to other people's feelings and make him always assume that everyone was being insulting. There were tons of reasons he had a hard time making friends, after all.

It did amuse him that she presumed that he'd know whether or not she had green riders trying to set her up, though. He honestly didn't care. However, Rawign did not point that out, nor did he say anything as she seemed to launch into what was clearly a defensive reaction. (He was sure he'd offended her - how cute, one statement had completely pushed her over the edge. Did she think he was just going to put up with being insulted?) She was right, though. He did know who Robika was, though not her personally, just as he didn't know Marra personally, although from her behavior he was guessing that he did not want to, either. She reminded him a little a proddy green firelizard, defensive and grumpy. He half-expected her to go for a fish and start blooding it, or something equally unpleasant. Well, if she did, he was not going to chase her, that was for sure! He'd just as soon roll over! ... Besides, he didn't need the help of some uppity girl-child to find lovers. He could do that on his own. He didn't need a green rider, either.

Fortunately, she didn't actually do that. No, instead, she turned down his acceptance, which amused him, though he didn't show it except for a slight smile that was more fake than real. But the smile faded as she slipped again on the exact same spot. What was her problem? Didn't anyone ever teach her to walk?

But he didn't laugh. Rawign was a Healer despite his obvious attitude, and he couldn't bring himself to laugh at someone else getting hurt, no matter how much they clearly deserved it, nor how nasty they were to him. Wasn't that why he'd wanted to leave the north in the first place, to be away from the fighting, to be some place at peace or at least decently safe? He derived no enjoyment from watching others suffer, it wasn't in his nature. So, no matter how nasty she'd been to him (and he thought she was quite nasty, thank you very much), Rawign knelt down next to the Harper and glanced over the wound casually. Again he made no effort to touch her, but he did rise back to his feet and offer her one hand to help her up.

"Now you'll need to clean it," he said without offering to help her. If she wanted his help, she could ask. She'd made it clear she thought herself quite the competent little Healer, and he was not about to burst her bubble, no matter how much she deserved it... in part because he wanted her to have to ask, wanted her ego to get knocked down a peg to admit she needed someone else's help. She reminded him a little of his father, so conceited, so convinced his way was right. In the end, Rawign had left on his own accord, without any hesitation or second thought, and he hadn't seen his father since. But he felt like he was seeing him again in the Harper in front of him. Maybe that was why he hadn't left... yet. He was sure there would be more time for that later. Despite himself (and the fact that every instinct inside of him told him it was a mistake), Rawign glanced down at the girl with a bemused look before asking, "Are you always this hostile, or do I receive special treatment for something?"

[Requiem]

Kalierre brushed the hair from her face, ignoring the irritation as much as was wise, considering the honeyed hues always - always - came out of their bonds. She'd removed her jacket as the warmth of exercise suffused her muscles. Another stroke, and the small boat was propelled further downstream. The healer was making her rounds during her limited free time as a weyrling. Luckily, Phremath did not have the typical attitude of a hatchling when it came to work; she didn't seem to mind that Kalierre never had the time to do much of anything fun.

Pretty colors, Premath commented almost lazily, gazing down into the riverbed which, at the current angle of the sun, sparkled beneath the few feet of water. She was perched just a bit haphazardly on the edge of the boat, forcing her bonded to shift her weight so as to balance the vessel out. Come on. Away from the edge. You'll fall in, and then we may not have time to see that dragonless man they just brought in.

The little green gave the healer what could only be described as a pleading look, but she didn't argue, instead settling down into the center of the boat as Kalierre continued to work the oars. A splash sounded from up ahead. Pausing in her work, the woman shaded her eyes against the sun, barely making out two figures splashing and carrying on in the near distance. Then one stood and waved, calling out, "Kali!" The journeyman smiled wryly, tossing off an exagerrated wave that he might see it. Z'hin. One of the older weyrlings - as opposed to the children that made her feel so out of place - and a generally nice young man, if a bit odd in some ways. Although it seemed that Jessereth and Phremath were just too different to get along all that well.

The two apparently left off in their cavorting, swimming out to the boat. She didn't pause in her rowing. Both paced the vessel, almost as if relishing the challenge. Hi Jess! Phremath greeted her hatchmate. He didn't respond. She'd picked up the name from Z'hin - which he still hadn't forgiven his bonded for - and now wouldn't call him by his true name. Nor would he answer her otherwise. That, however, didn't seem to phase the green much. Is the water nice? I bet it is. It's sparkling today! All pretty and fun and I wish Mine would let me go swimming but she's got so much to do and I promised I'd come and - The endless spiel suddenly came to a halt as she spied two more figures up ahead, these on the riverbank.

Kalierre was slower to notice. "No. They didn't say much, other than they needed a healer out here, preferably a dragonhealer. We've only got one besides myself, and he's a dragonless. An excellent healer. Horrible bedside manner, though." The brownweyrling was slow to respond, flipping over onto his back so that it was easier for him to speak. "Maybe Jess and I will tag along. Nothing much going on, and you might need an extra pair of hands." Z'hin had offered and even helped out before. He'd never be healer material, but he knew a lot about herbs and he did have a natural way with people. Besides, Kalierre liked having someone else around every once in awhile. Someone who wasn't sick or injured.

Something in her link to Phremath got Kalierre's attention. She looked about, immediately spotting two people, one on the ground. That seemed odd. The healer brought her small vessel in to shore not far from the pair. All four - riders and hatchlings - made their way up onto the bank, Z'hin sopping wet and Kalierre bone-weary, though doing a pretty good job of hiding it. Phremath rushed toward the two strangers vigorously. Jessereth, always the more sedate, held back, pressing into Z'hin's leg. Blood, Mine! There was a slight pause. Don't we know him?

Kali vaguely remembered a new candidate, another journeyman healer like herself, who'd come to Selenitas. She had no time to speak with him, however, and hadn't seen him around more than once or twice. He was newly a journeyman, if she remembered correctly. Must be, given his age. That was all a minor concern to her, however, as she came upon the solitary harper she'd met briefly in the dining hall earlier. "Marra," Kalierre chided gently, her eyes softly laughing. "That's quite an expression. It can't be all that bad." Her gaze roved over the scrape. That would sting, though little more unless she didn't clean it properly. Kalierre was simply relieved it was nothing serious.

Ever the gentleman, Z'hin offered Marra a hand up, smiling broadly. He really was rather average-looking until that grin came out - or until one happened to notice that he was built like a small mountain. Something a bit more noticeable in his wet clothes. "Just remember, the ground always wins." His eyes flashing, he directed his smile at the other lad, taller, though perhaps just a bit younger than he. "Isn't that right, friend?"

Phremath was back at Kali's side at this point, the woman regarding the candidate pensively. "Rawign, right?" Her memory had always been superb. "Either you always go to the infirmary during weyrling lessons, or you've disappeared from there entirely. We could use some capable hands. I'm being run ragged, as you can see," the woman said with a slight smile, the dark rings beneath her eyes rather noticeable up close.

[Administrator]

Marra spared him no kind tones as Rawign looked over her knee. "It's fine," she snapped, rejecting his offered hand. With her good leg, she tried pushing herself up herself, the base of her palm creaking with little pebbles beneath it. Grimacing as she saw getting up would be a troublesome task, she sighed. Fortunately, she spared herself the embarrassment of taking Rawign's hand when Kalierre and Z'hin- two people she remembered only vaguely- arrived at the scene. Nevertheless, it didn't spare her pride. Scowling in irritation, she snapped at the older woma, "It's only a scrape, of course it isn't bad!" Was the woman mocking her? Irritation flashed harder, and Marra was now desperate to get back to her apartments. Fortunately, Z'hin was easier for Marra to tolerate than Rawign, so she had no objections to his help. "Ground always wins," she repeated under her breath. Reluctantly, she gripped his hand with hers, the graceful fingers coupled with callouses from Turns of harpering making for an interesting combination. However, she ripped her hand away even as she balanced on her leg. It ached too much for her to rest her full weight on it comfortably, so she staggered a couple paces from him, giving him an irritated look from her safer position- not only away from the wetness, but away from Rawign. Z'hin, and Kalierre.. "I'll wash it when I get back to my apartments," she told them, her words directed at Rawign, with her tone cold and her blue eyes reflecting a brisk irritation.

His question surprised her. Not letting that surprise show through, she trained her expressions to not move. She did, however, pause. Even though he hadn't suggested it, she shouldn't be so angry. Sure, he was a know-it-all healer who needed to invade everything, but she needed to cool herself down. She didn't want to get transported to a Northern hold, did she? Sighing, she replied, with as much indifference as she could muster, "I am only at people who succeed in bothering me." That much was truth, not even a harper story. Folding her arms, she tested her leg, bending it carefully, but unable to mask a flinch. Eyes flickering back down to the boats, she looked at them longingly for a moment, but wasn't comfortable climbing the rocks down with a bad knee. With her family history from Tillek, she knew better then anyone that if she were to slip on a wet plant, she'd tumble and no doubt injure more than just her knee. Of course, she wouldn't tell him that. He could probably figure that out on his own. Shard it. Why had this happened to her now, when there were more people? Uncomfortable at the thought of so many eyes watching her in her embarassment, her eyes flickered downwards, her anger blossoming under chest.

Carefully stretching her knee, she would keep moving it till she was positive she could make it down the rocks. "What brings you two to these parts, anyway?" she asked sullenly, her gaze flickering to the green and brown dragonets every so often. They were still rather awkward looking, but that couldn't be helped. They were still babies, and all babies looked awkward. They could be sweet, though, which she supposed made up for their ungainly appearance. These people were lucky to have these creatures bonded to them. Not that Marra wanted to be a dragonrider, but having an intense bond with something was such a curious thing for her, one that led her to want a flitter someday or something. Pulling herself back to attention, her eyes went back to Kalierre, who was talking to the ever-irritating Rawign.

[glamourie]

People. People were coming. Rawign blinked slightly and froze before taking a step back, away from Marra, away from the dragon. He wasn't afraid of them... was he? It dawned on him then that yes, yes he was. He was afraid of dragons, he'd seen too much bloodshed not to be. He was good at hiding it most of the time, but when they were physically close to him, it was a little harder. The two that just arrived were so small, barely out of the egg and he was sure he knew their names somewhere in his mind but the temporary fear that engulfed him robbed him of that knowledge. There was a dragon. Close to him. He'd only been physically close to them once, despite coming to the Weyr. Rawign was careful about that, usually lurking away from where the dragons stayed; if they were perching on the bank of the river, he could usually be found up in the rocks, usually near some crevice where he could hide suddenly if he needed to. The smaller ones didn't look quite as dangerous (actually, they looked rather awkward if he were to be completely honest with himself) but he knew looks could be deceiving. His stomach twisted into knots again and any irritation he'd felt at Marra completely melted away in favour of a more dominant emotion: raw terror. The only indication of that outwardly, however, was that his breathing had sped up, along with his heartbeat, and he wrapped his arms tightly around his torso to comfort himself. There was more to adjust to at the Weyr than just people. Just because he respected dragons didn't mean they didn't frighten him.

Perhaps fortunately for him, neither of the two had spoken to him immediately, and Rawign's fight or flight instinct was going into over-drive; he hadn't been comfortable to begin with, after all. Marra's sniping was barely noticed. The seventeen-turn-old boy was trying his best not to look back and forth between the two dragonets constantly, so instead he'd taken to staring at the tops of his boots. Maybe with any luck he'd look as though he was just extremely shy. He really didn't want to explain why he was afraid, though since he was raised in the North, it probably wasn't hard to guess. By the egg, why exactly had he agreed to come again? Oh, right, temporary insanity.

"Huh?" Eloquence, thy name was Rawign. "Oh, right. Yes." He actually had no idea what the brown rider had said, or what he was agreeing to, but he agreed nonetheless. Mostly he was agreeing just to get attention of off of him (he felt terribly vulnerable surrounded by people - and dragons!! - that he didn't know, and without Beggar for comfort). Why were they even talking to him though? He was under the impression most people didn't notice him. Rawign: Shadow creature. It was strange to be addressed, though not necessarily unwelcome... just... he'd have - Ah, the green was back at her person's side. He calmed down considerably in that moment, though his posture still remained defensive, as though his arms were meant to protect his chest from attack. If he could have seen himself, he might have been ashamed, for letting other people see his weaknesses was one of Rawign's biggest fears.

But being angry helped, and Marra's next words earned her a withering look devoid of any sort of kindness. If he was irritating her so very much, he could leave. Maybe the greenrider could try to set her up with the brownrider, since she clearly had such trouble finding lovers! He didn't say anything to her in response to her words, but if looks could kill, she would be lying flat; the expression Rawign wore was among the most ugly looks he owned. However, when the other Healer (K... Ka... It started with Ka; he was still too nervous to recall the full name.) spoke to him, the look melted away like ice under flame, leaving only an inquisitive smile before he shook his head, "I always go to the Infirmary during Weyrlinglessons; that's when there's the least Healers in there, and yes, it is Rawign..." He was surprised she'd even noticed him, though. "I'll try to start going there more often though..." He'd been breaking up his chores by going to the candidate lessons, then to the Infirmary while the Weyrlings were training, then other chores, and then attempting to explore the Weyr; he didn't want to be fifty and still getting lost. But if they needed help more - as they obviously did - Rawign was not adverse to practically living in the Infirmary. It was the one place in the Weyr he could find without fail. Even at meal times he took to following the crowds, but the Infirmary he could always make his way to - from just about anywhere in the Weyr so far. Priorities.

[Requiem]

Phremath was quickly getting bored. These people didn't seem to be too friendly. Glancing over at Jess, she wriggled with excitement, throwing her small body at him with gusto. Lackadaisical as the brown hatchling might be, however, he was not one to be caught off-guard. At least not by Phremath. Jessereth watched drolly as his clutchsibling skittered past him on the moist earth. His tail flicked in annoyance.

Kalierre's eyes shifted toward the pair. Take it somewhere else, you two. You'll knock someone over. By now, Jessereth had accepted that the healer was one of those humans who could speak to any dragon she chose. Apparently even to Salenth! Imagine. Still, his response was petulant, She started it! I don't want to play this game, anyway. Although Z'hin wasn't privy to the conversation, he cast a remonstrative glance at Jessereth. He'd sensed the flare of rebelliousness through their link. Phremath was already bounding away, the brown trailing sullenly.

Now, Z'hin tended to be fairly grounded, especially for a teenager, but he had to admit that he naturally paid more attention to women than men. And Kalierre was just enough older than him to cause the brownrider to lose that level of interest with which he might regard someone younger. So his focus remained on Marra. Besides which, he was somewhat concerned about her, as it seemed she might have twisted her knee just a bit when she came down on it. It amused him that she felt the need to repeat his comment. Though he was somewhat disappointed when she distanced herself from him so quickly. He was actively in search of a replacement for Paryal, who had been a rather nice friend until her Impression, when she seemed to lose all interest in anyone but bronzeriders. It actually hurt a bit. He ignored it, though, as best he could. Not that Z'hin thought he'd find a good friend in a standoffish harper - though, if he were fair, it seemed that she just disliked this other healer Kali was busy talking to. Maybe he could get her to open up just a little? Z'hin usually had pretty decent luck with that sort of thing. Maybe it was because he was genuine, and most everyone could tell. Who knew?

At Marra's question, Z'hin let loose another one of his grins. "Jess and I -" Jessereth "- were just taking a swim after Weyrling lessons. Crowds bother me, and he's not particularly social. We told Kali we'd help her when she went to visit the dragonless refugee with the bad burns that was just brought in. Ran into each other on the river." The man shrugged mildly. His gaze drifted down to the scraped knee and how she was favoring it. Out of respect for her, however, he didn't say anything. Marra didn't seem to want the attention. "How'd you end up fighting with a candidate, anyway?" he questioned, a touch of humor lacing his tone, as if to ask her if it was really worth the effort to argue with someone, especially anyone that low on the weyr totem pole. It didn't take a genius to tell that Rawign and Marra weren't getting along.

Now, Kalierre might have been tired, but she certainly wasn't blind. Whatever was going on between these two? The healer, however, didn't care to pry into matters that clearly weren't her business. Well, at least he took his responsibilities as a healer seriously. Most healers did, though, truth be told. It was just the type of personality required to make it in that particular craft. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you around, then, if only because it will mean maybe more than four hours of sleep for me," she replied lightly. Being one of two dragonhealers in a weyr left her with very little time on a good day. There were a handful of decent healers who didn't need supervision, but very few of them had extensive background with dragons, and it was a skill that took a certain something to develop. Most were dragonriders. That said something about that branch of healing, didn't it?

After a moment, she asked, out of courtesy, "How are you settling in, then?" Kalierre didn't have a whole lot of time. Although she might want an extra pair of hands with that dragonless - a pair of hands with some training behind them. A dragonless was a very unpredictable patient. If she could convince him to maybe come along, it would be worth the time wasted on the bank here. The journeyman greenrider began her patient working on Rawign.

[Administrator]

It was with a hard look that Marra was examining Rawign with. One might assume her look was of loathing, but it was far from. She was more intrigued about his behavior. No movement escaped her stiff gaze. He had backed away. Extremely puzzled, she kept her gaze trained on him, watching him wrap his arms around himself with obvious discomfort. Looking back to the newcomers, she tried to figure out what was making Rawign so worried. Perhaps it was the new people, she conjectured. Perhaps she had misread him. He may very well be shy. Or maybe it was how odd Phremath look, wingless. It was an odd look for new members of the weyr to get used to, as well as the other mutated dragons. It was almost a fearful sort of shyness, Marra concluded curiously. Although, once again, it could be contributed toward Phremath's peculiar look. Then again, it might not be.

Now what was this look all about? Marra thought irritably as she gazed at Rawign's expression. It was a disturbing one- hatred? It certainly seemed that way. Returning that gaze with a haughty. indignant expression, she saw how instantly is vanished once more Kalierre's eyes. So, was he declaring war on her? Irritated, she rolled her eyes. He was acting like a cowardly weyrbrat, only shooting dirty looks toward a rival when the harper wasn't looking. Idiot. However, she was pleased to have different attention focused on her, and she looked over to Z'hin upon noting that not only was he speaking to her, but Kalierre was starting to talk with Rawign about business that didn't really concern her.

"I see," she replied, not really sounding interested. At least it was only coincidence, then. It didn't stop her from still being embarrassed, however, and she felt the need to conserve her dignity. Seeing his gaze go to her knee, she waved a hand in dismissal. "It's nothing," she told him, her voice toned to wordlessly tell him to just drop the subject and leave it alone. She wasn't a child. She knew how to tend to her own wounds. Ignoring the slight throb, she raised an eyebrow.

"He's a candidate?" she demanded, her stormy eyes flickering over to Rawign accusingly. "He seemed to have left out that little detail. Dimglow," she muttered, the last statement directed at Rawign. She sighed, and looked back up at Z'hin. "He's just extraordinarily touchy," she told him, omitting the part where she had snapped. Well, it was probably easy to figure out that she had snapped at him at least once during their meeting, she thought. Marra snapped at anyone who got onto her bad side. However, she was amused by the way Z'hin had said 'candidate.'

Deciding to continue that little joke (and perhaps provoke Rawign while she spoke), she added, mocking her words with the air of a stuck-up holder's daughter, "I just don't know what possessed him, a lowly candidate, to argue with a journeywoman such as myself. Such gall!" She smirked, playing the part perfectly, pleased with her acting skills. Oh yes, she hoped Rawign had caught it. Once again, her eyes went back up to him, daring him to contradict her.

[glamourie]

Though he was talking to the other Healer, Rawign didn't miss what the other two were saying. Much of that stemmed from the fact that he was expecting insults - and he got them, whether or not the brown rider meant it that way. The agitation he felt was enough to make him want to turn and say something snappy, but he didn't; it wasn't to him, just about him and he'd taught himself better self-control than that. Count to ten, focus, he told himself repeatedly without looking at the other two. His mind was latched onto what the greenrider said because she was an efficient distraction from how insulted he felt. She at least didn't seem to see him as inferior - when he wasn't. Candidate, like that was all there was to him, neatly ignoring the fact that he'd gone through the training it took to become a Healer, which wasn't easy. He was indignant, and he probably should not have been. He decided the only reason the brownrider was overlooking that fact was because he was catering to the Harper's ego. That or he didn't know, but he preferred to think the former; the latter would have convinced him that the other boy was... dim.

Oh, I hope you burn, Marra, he thought spitefully as he caught a snippet about him leaving out the fact that he was a candidate. Yes, he'd left it out because it literally slipped his mind. He didn't expect to Impress so why worry? He thought of himself as more of a Healer anyway...

"What time would be the most convenient for me to come?" Rawign asked quietly as he regarded Kalierre (Her name returned to his memory at last!) with a curious expression. He was still keeping something of a distance between himself and the dragonets; it didn't matter how they looked, or how small they were, or what their age was, a dragon was a dragon and dragons were dangerous creatures. He'd seen what they could do, and he had no desire to be in any physical proximity to them. That was why he was sure that him standing on the Sands was the mark of utter foolishness. How could he be expected to care for a dragonet that he'd be afraid of, if nothing else were counted against him? Though, he was getting better. When he first arrived at the Weyr, he'd actually lost his ability to speak around dragons, and usually froze, unable to move. He was still able to think rationally, though he did keep glancing down at his feet. He looked weak and he knew it, but that kept him from having to acknowledge the fact that there were two dragons close by. Miniature, but dragons nonetheless. Couldn't Pern just be populated with flits? They weren't scary at all.

Her next question made him smile - and it was a genuine smile, if very weak. "I'd be settling in better if everyone wasn't treating me with hostility solely because I thought to ask if they were all right," he said quietly, but the words were meant more for Marra than Kalierre. She seemed really nice, and that made him think a little better of the place. He didn't have much experience with the inhabitants, but if there were enough people to be as nice as the greenrider was, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad. It would definitely take some adjusting, though... especially to the idea of the dragonets; they looked so strange. He'd never seen baby dragons before, was it normal for them to all look that way? He didn't ask. It might have been offensive. But there was one very, very sick looking green, with a washed out hide who looked starved that he'd seen; she looked to the brother of one of the other candidates... It was very sad.

He visibly tensed at the phrase 'lowly candidate' and resisted the urge to whirl around in furious indignation. If he said anything, she'd probably accuse him of eavesdropping... which, really, was exactly what he was doing, though he denied that even to himself. How dare she imply she was superior to him when he was a JOURNEYMAN himself? Well, it just made her look as dim as he thought she was, really. He bit the inside of his lip before shifting his weight and taking another step back. The direction he was heading was the exact opposite of where he needed to be going, but he didn't notice as much. He still got lost quite a bit. "I should be going," he said quietly. Yes, he'd heard enough, time to escape. If he stayed, he was going to say something rude, and the dragons were making him uncomfortable... Though, he supposed they were sort of cute, in a starved and beaten wherry sort of way. Did that make him morbid? He didn't say that easier; he didn't want to offend anyone ... other than Marra, who he hoped got eaten by a pack of hungry felines. "My firelizard will be wanting food soon, and I'm sure I could be used in the infirmary..."