Splashing in the Shallows {OPEN}

[lennae]

Somehow, between lessons and chores and everything else that comes with raising a hatchling, Lennae and Amith had found some time to simply relax. The green was having quite a bit of fun romping in the shallows of the river, and her carefree antics brought a smile to Lennae’s face. It was rare to see the hatchling enjoying herself openly, for Amith was a shy being and would often retreat to the safe place behind Lennae’s legs at the first sign of another living creature.

Watch mine! Amith’s voice caused Lennae to look up from the fruit that she had been slicing and eating. The dragon had found a playmate it seemed, although the fish that Amith was attempting to bat at clearly was not a voluntary participant. The green crouched down, rump up in the air, tail thrashing about madly as she readied herself to pounce on the fish. She leapt and let out an upset squeal as she met nothing but water and the silt that lined the bottom of the river.

“Silly girl,” Lennae chuckled, cutting another piece of the fruit to munch on. Amith glanced back at her rider, clearly having fun despite her lack of success in the fishing department. The delicate-looking green certainly didn’t seem to care a whit about injuries, which, was typical for all children. Lennae, her experienced limited on the knowledge of young things, found the thoughts and actions of the child-like green utterly fascinating and would spend hours observing her if she could.

She had just turned back to her snack when a large wave crashed down on her, soaking her thoroughly. Startled, Lennae’s head shot up, coming face-to-face with the amused expression of her beloved Amith. The green had pounced near enough to the shore to send a spray of water up to where Lennae sat, and she was quite obviously proud of herself.

You're all wet, just like me! Now you should come in and play. Amith’s words caused a grin to spread across Lennae’s face. Well, if that was the way the hatchling wanted to play, then so be it. Standing, Lennae didn’t even bother with her clothing before jumping in next to the green, splashing at her immediately. The green reacted by using her tail to send a wave of water straight at her rider.

“I’ll get you, don’t think that I won’t,” Lennae cried, spluttering as water entered her mouth. Dragon and rider continued to romp about, heedless of the fact that others might be present.

[Requiem]

And 'others' most certainly were. Or, rather, one other was. Mutasim didn't bother making his presence known, however. Having stood as a candidate through two Hatchings with no success, the candidate lessons didn't hold his interest anymore, and he'd discovered how best to expedite the process of chores. Bright as the lad was, he was back up in one of his trees, even though his broken foot had healed just a couple of months ago from the last time he'd taken to the upper branches of one of these Southern monstrosities on a whim.

In all truth, the small young man - the fuzz adorning his jaw made it impossible to hide the truth - was pretty noticeable in his new choice of clothing. Most likely he hadn't been noticed due to his silence and the fact that he was far above their heads. Mutasim had - again on a whim - collected the tunics of all these weyrlings, along with several other things they'd left in their hurry to get out of the candidate barracks, slicing them and recreating them into colorful abstract things that were really somewhat...distasteful. The boy wore them for the simple reason that he couldn't hide or blend in. It was impossible. There were few dark-skinned candidates here at Selenitas, and even fewer who were obviously coming into their manhood while still being a rather unimpressive five feet tall. If he was going to stand out, he was going to stand out.

That way the new candidates would know him as the dark, silent cuss that he was by description, and wouldn't approach him. Oh, yes. It was a good plan, and had proved moderately effective.

He'd taken to whittling over the last several sevendays. It was something Mutasim had read about in the archives. After teaching himself to read with the help of the head Archivist, the candidate had been practically devouring the scrolls, one after another, and he'd stumbled upon something that mentioned the technique. His skill was still pretty crude. Understandably so. But he'd managed to progress far enough to make a fairly decent cane for the senior weyrling who'd been seriously injured in the feline attack some three months before. Z'hin also happened to be one of three people here at Selenitas that Mutasim would actually call 'friend.'

Thus it was that Mutasim had been sitting up in his tree, casually whittling away at one of the branches he'd broken off, when Lennae and her Amith arrived on the scene. He'd never admit it, but he knew all the candidates who'd stood with him by name, as well as the names of the dragons the lucky ones had Impressed. Just because he didn't make it a habit of socializing with people didn't mean he was unaware of them. In truth, Mutasim spent a lot of time observing the people around him, if only out of habit.

He paused in his carving. The shape was already clear, but it was the little details he was putting in there now, and Mutasim wasn't much of an artist. Or at least he didn't see himself that way. After a moment, his hand curled into a fist around the small figure of a dragon readying to pounce. It didn't do justice to the real thing. He set it beside him, carefully rolling up the collection of knives, picks and files that had been left behind in the weyrlings' hurry.

When he looked again for his little figure, he couldn't find it. Mutasim let out a soft curse. There. In the bed of leaves below at the foot of the tree. Sighing, he rested his elbow on a knee and watched the dragon and her rider, wondering what it was like, to have something that precious bound to you for the rest of your life. From the descriptions, he was almost thankful he hadn't Impressed. He didn't want anyone subjected to his memories. Shards, Mutasim didn't want to deal with the memories, ever, or anything from them. It must be terrifyingly beautiful to find yourself completely bared to another creature.

Yes. He felt relieved. And just a bit envious. Watching Amith, the dragon who danced and played, he wanted to feel some of what she was feeling. Had he ever played? He couldn't recall if he had. Innocence. It was something he both despised and yearned for. There was no innocence or peace for a Bitran. None.

[lennae]

It was long before a stitch was creeping its way up her side and she was breathing heavily. The apparent lack in her physical condition gave her cause to frown. When was the last time she had truly exercised? Not since she had arrived here, the weyrlings realized with a start. Well, that wouldn’t do. From now on she vowed that she would devote an hour in the morning before lessons to get back in shape. Perhaps it would help her to be more focused and awake during lessons as well. Lennae knew that they were important, but it was horribly difficult to concentrate in the sleep-muddled state that she often found herself in during lessons.

I heard something. There. While Lennae had paused to catch her breath, Amith had gone quiet as well, and was now looking toward the trees that lined the river less than a hundred feet from bank. While she was a shy creature, her’s was here, which meant that she was safe. With this thought in mind, the hatchling began to stalk toward the pile of leaves that had rustled not a few moments before. She moved slowly, cautiously, head moving this way and that to make sure that nothing was going to jump out from the shadows and attack her.

Lennae watched the hatchling move, a loving, motherly smile spreading across her features. Amith’s innocence was one of the many things that Lennae loved so much about her companion, for it was something that she had never experienced much as a child. When Amith looked back toward Lennae, she read the unspoken question and answered it, moving toward the leafy pile that Amith was now nosing through with her snout.

Found it! The green cried, holding something delicately in her forelegs. Carefully, she placed it on the ground where she could better study it, away from the leaves that had obscured it. What do you think it is?

Now Lennae knelt down to study it, and quickly saw that it was a carving, a figurine of a dragon, ready to pounce. While already recognizable, it was clear that the carver had not finished adding the final details to the figure. She reached out to finger the smooth wood, wondering at who could have done such fine work and then simply left it here to rot away.

“Well love, it’s a carving of a dragon. Like you.” At this answer, Amith brought her head down closer to the figurine, eyeing it closely as if to better see the resemblance. She was about to comment on it further when a noise from above caused her head to shoot up, easily spying the young man up among the trees. He was dressed far too brightly to remain hidden for long.

At the sight of someone else, Amith quickly retreated behind Lennae, who had also spied the young man by following the green’s gaze and was now standing, figurine in hand. Her head peeked out around Lennae, trying to study this stranger better while remaining safe. By reading her’s thoughts, she could tell that Lennae assumed that this was the creator of the carving, and her curiosity about him was enough to risk her safety to step further out to better study him.

“I believe you dropped this…?” Lennae questioned mildly, holding out the figurine so that he could see it.

[Requiem]

The dragon had heard it fall. He didn't have to be privy to the conversation to note that their play had paused, and it didn't take much imagination to figure out the direction in which Amith was looking. Mutasim seriously considered fleeing. Had he been interested in speaking with someone, in being in another's presence, he likely would have visited Z'hin. He certainly wouldn't have been perched up in this tree, whittling at a spare piece of bark. But if the dragon had heard the figure fall while she was at play, she'd certainly notice the rustlings and flash of color that would mark Mutasim's retreat. It was far more likely that they wouldn't notice him if he remained where he was.

Unlike some who have endured and experienced more than someone their age ever should, the mask Muta hid behind was a more honest one. Most could sense his darkness, even behind the inscrutable face and the eyes that, rather than seeming like the only glimpse into the boy's inner being, appeared capable of stripping away the layers of protection every human being instinctively put up to protect their soul.

The haunted, ageless eyes followed the movements of the green warily. Yes, they'd found it. What would have been instinctive to him didn't seem to occur to the pair; they didn't look up. Mutasim shifted uncomfortably. A mistake. Jabari, who had been sleeping curled up in his lap, awoke, chittering softly as he found himself slipping from the boy's thigh. The candidate stopped Jabari's slide without thinking, though it caused him to have to rearrange his weight or risk falling out of the tree himself. Another broken foot - or worse - wasn't really high on his list of things to do.

Lennae's voice as she addressed Muta caused the little brown to chirp again, the shy flit fluttering up to the candidate's shoulder and coiling his tail around the young man's neck, burying his face into the depression behind Muta's ear. He didn't seem to notice the earing sliding along his back. Absently, the young man stroked Jabari's spine with a finger, making a sound deep in his throat that helped calm the creature's pounding heart. The brown was really pretty exciteable. This wasn't at all unusual for him.

After a moment, he nodded, though whether she could see it or not was another matter. Sliding from the branch on which he perched, Mutasim caught one, then another, before dropping nimbly into a crouch with the tree still between him and the greenpair. While some might have thought this was out of respect for Amith's apparent nervousness, in truth he merely did so out of his own lack of trust. The young man liked to have distance between him and other people - enough distance to allow him to draw his dagger before someone could descend upon him. Old habits and whatnot.

He looked over the girl casually. Not much older than him. Taller, but that was only to be expected. Lennae. He knew her by sight, though he knew little else. The blank expression was somewhat at odds with his garish attire. When he finally spoke, his voice was a deep, pleasant sound - if rather soft and somewhat scratchy from little use. "Yes. But...you can keep it. If you want. It wasn't coming out right." That was true enough. Mutasim glanced at Amith, almost as curiously as she was looking at him. The figure sure didn't do much justice to its model.

Jabari shifted backwards, turning so that he could peek out past Muta's ear. He trilled softly at the giant firelizard, a question in the tone. His didn't seem upset, so now Jabari was rather curious. Not that he was likely to leave Mutasim's shoulder to satisfy that curiosity.

[lennae]

The young man now standing before her reminded her much of Amith. Cautious, clearly not easily trusting. Therefore she was careful not to make any sudden moves toward him for fear of scaring him away. In the few minutes that they stood facing each other, she studied him, noting the dark expression of the eyes, the wary posture. He was familiar, and after a moment of wracking her brain, she remembered where she had seen him before. He had been a candidate, standing for the same clutch that she had been. He must not have impressed, for there was no dragon around and she was almost certain that she hadn’t seen him at the weyrling lessons.

We can keep it? Tell him I say thank you. Amith’s eyes whirled a happy blue and green of contentment at his words. Slowly, she crept further out into the open, Do you think...maybe if we asked nice enough, he'd make me?

While she wasn’t a vain creature, Amith sensed that this man was lonely and maybe if she asked him to do something he liked, she was assuming he liked carving, maybe he would like her and her mine more. Her mine needed company too, for although she had acquaintances, she had no one to really confide in. Amith was certainly looking out for everyone’s best interests.

“Amith here says thank you,” Lennae told him, relaying the green’s words. At Amith’s second request, Lennae looked down at her in surprise, for the suggestion was obviously unexpected. “Amith would also like to know if you might wish to make a carving of her. Of course, if it’s too much trouble, I’d completely understand, and I’m certain she would too.”

While Lennae was talking to the man, Amith had discovered Jabari, and was now quite fascinated with her little cousin. She answered the brown’s question with a croon of her own, and then gently, reached out mentally to brush against the firelizard’s mind with a feather-light touch. She snorted upon contact and stepped further out, now nearly half her body exposed to Mutasim and Jabari.

[Requiem]

He continued to watch the two closely, but Mutasim wasn't really worried. The candidate had mellowed ever since Impressing Jabari. When he'd first come to Selenitas, he'd been somewhat quick to draw that dagger of his, although it was also true that Muta had a much harder time trusting men. Women didn't warrant as much scrutiny. His relationship with Z'hin was actually fairly odd, as the older weyrling was most definitely all the things you'd expect in a male, but they'd faced death together, and that tended to change things. Especially since the brownrider had put himself in that situation of his own volition.

No, he'd seen Amith and Lennae together enough, even from a distance, to be a little more comfortable with them than he would have been with a good number of the people here. They were so loving toward each other. That sort of relationship he'd actually enjoyed - and lost. Honestly, he just didn't know how to relate to most of the people here. They weren't like him. His few friends weren't like him. Shards, he'd nearly stabbed one of them because she'd...touched him...That still made him feel guilty. Muta shrugged it aside, though. There was something about Lennae that struck him as familiar. Not in the sense that he knew her, but in the sense that maybe they were a little more alike than he'd first thought.

Mutasim frowned up at her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers for something that he couldn't quite identify himself. Blood. He blinked. Where had that thought come from? The young man dismissed it, or perhaps just filed it away for later, when he was alone to dwell on it. Her words broke through his thoughts. A flush came into his cheeks. Normally he wouldn't have reacted that way, but she'd caught him off-guard. "I - uh..." Shaking his head, he looked toward Amith. She really wanted him to carve a rendering of her? He'd only just started. Mutasim was really something of a perfectionist, lest he wouldn't have been so disgusted with the earlier figure that Lennae now held. He didn't think he was very good at all.

It was at that moment that Amith touched Jabari's mind, however, the residual effect of that touch leaking into the connection between Muta and his flitter. He froze. The brown firelizard's wings fluttered a bit in reaction, his only contact with dragons having been the very angry gold Aslath. As he settled, though, he fluted at her. The candidate watched incredulously as Jabari unwound from his neck and glided to the ground, cocking his head and trilling at Amith, his eyes a content mixture of blue and green. The brown firelizard almost never left His.

"Your welcome," Mutasim finally intoned, the words directed at the small green hatchling. Not so small, really, but smaller than a lot of the other hatchlings, and certainly nothing in comparison to the adult dragons that made up the wings. "I'm not very good, but...if you really want it, I would like to carve a figure of you." He shot a glance at Lennae, wondering if it was all right for him to talk directly to Amith. Most of the time, Mutasim came across as distant and arrogant, but this was a peculiar situation. He was both out of his comfort zone...and not feeling threatened. The combination made him seem distinctly shy.

Jabari hopped closer to Amith, just as tentative as His. But this giant firelizard was nice! Would she let him near her? He trilled another question, ready to take flight if she got angry. Muta, too, paid close attention, trying not to worry for his flit. The brown's nearly constant attachment to him had made him almost as dependent on Jabari as the firelizard was dependent on him.

[lennae]

Amith diverted her attention from Jabari long enough to pay attention to Mutasim as his addressed her. She would have replied to him directly, but he still remained mostly as stranger to her and she simply didn’t feel very comfortable talking to strangers, no matter that they were willing to carve a likeness of her. Perhaps later on down the line, during her posing for him. For now though, she would rely on Lennae to be her voice.

I'd like that very much. She spoke to Lennae, but remained fixated on Mutasim. Quickly, Lennae relayed the hatchling’s reply, repeating it verbatim. Not that there was much to repeat, for Amith, even in her chattiest of moods was never one for long-winded replies. After a moment’s silence, the hatchling spoke again and once more Lennae acted as translator. Could I learn to make images out of wood too?

After she spoke the words, Lennae glanced at Amith with a mixture of surprise and humor. Well, she had certainly never heard of any master carver dragons, and she was nearly certain that it would be far too difficult, if not impossible, for the hatchling to master. Still, she couldn’t bare to bring the green down, and so kept silent, hiding her doubts far in the back of her mind so that Amith wouldn’t see them. Let the dragon dream; soon enough there would be no time for anything other than threadfall and the horrible injuries that many of their companions and perhaps even themselves might sustain.

As Jabari drew closer, Amith was once again engaged by the brown firelizard. He was so small, and yet he looked so much like her and her siblings. She brought her head down so that she was eye to eye with the firelizard. An inviting chirp was the answer to his question and the green flopped herself to the ground, an open invitation for her to join him.

Lennae found herself at a loss. She had never been one for making small talk, and while Amith was perfectly comfortable speaking with him, she found herself quite awkward standing in front of him with nothing to talk about. She decided, after a bit of pondering, that he looked familiar in a deeper way. The expression of the eyes, it spoke of dark things, something that she herself had experienced far too often. Unfortunately, topics of that nature didn’t usually present themselves as good conversation starters and so she simply remained quiet, turning her attentions toward Amith and Jabari.

[Requiem]

In his peculiar way, Mutasim took Amith's acceptance as an invitation to begin right away. He didn't, however. Not until he saw how the dragon and his Jabari would interact. The brown flit hopped, letting out a startled chirp as Amith suddenly flopped to the ground, but he didn't flee. The young man remembered keenly what had happened with that new candidate and her dog a few months back, scaring poor Jabari out of his wits. The brown firelizard was far too curious when it came to other animals. He'd nestled into the mutt's neck fur, only to be dislodged when the creature suddenly turned, sending the brown streaking back into Mutasim's chest in the thralls of what was very nearly a panic attack. The candidate definitely didn't want a repeat of that situation. Still, he thought it was rather unlikely Amith would be so inconsiderate. She seemed rather sweet, and she was definitely more aware than a common mutt.

Jabari seemed to share the opinion of His. After a few more moments of indecision, he closed the remaining distance between them, curling up in the space beneath her chin. He crooned happily, nuzzling his very big sister, before dropping off to sleep. Mutasim blinked. If that wasn't trust from the exciteable little brown, he didn't know what was.

With that concern settled for the moment, Mutasim climbed back up the tree without a word. It wasn't that he hadn't heard Amith-through-Lennae. He needed time to consider a response, however, and one thing he'd learned fairly quickly in this relatively new hobby of his was that the whittling depended a lot on getting the right wood. Though his body seemed on the weak side at first glance, the agility with which he scampered through the branches showed that lie for what it was. He was healthier than he'd ever been, here at Selenitas. It helped when you got as much food as you wanted without having to fight for it.

After several minutes, he found what he wanted: a dead branch, rather thick, with the wood grain fairly consistent, though swirling a bit at both ends. Mutasim broke it off neatly at its base. One of the benefits of dead wood. Then he descended through the tree. Turning the wood over in his hands carefully, he frowned at it, before deciding that yes, this would likely do. The candidate seated himself right there in the grass, unrolling the fabric he used to carry his unlikely assortment of knives.

"I think it might be difficult...for anyone without fingers," Mutasim finally responded to the green's question. Lennae surely must know this. Yet she'd left him to field the question. He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that, but the young man understood what she must have been feeling. It was hard to tell someone that they probably couldn't do something. "Though you can try? We could always build something to hold the wood in place, fashion knives that you could hold in your teeth. You'd need Lennae to turn the wood for you, I think, but it's not impossible. It would be hard work, though."

No, it hadn't taken long for his mind to reach for a solution. Mutasim was bright. In the world in which he'd grown up, it had saved the lives of children for a long time - until the imagined threat he posed ended up killing them after all. He'd always been quick to find solutions. He'd taken one of the larger knives and was carving away the bark, working with the grain to start fashioning the figure. It was little more than a lump now. But that was okay. It was how it always started. He could see them in this piece of wood, though. Amith and Jabari. And Mutasim wanted to capture that. They looked so cute together.

Cute and peaceful and innocent. All the things that were never his, but he always felt a little envious of. After a minute or so, he switched to a smaller knife, using it to make the curves more accurate. His eyes flicked to Lennae briefly. "You weren't here long. A Northerner by your accent." Statements that didn't require an answer. If Lennae had Impressed Amith, she must be someone that could be trusted. Right? Yet her eyes still bothered him. Mutasim usually didn't mind silence, but this felt rather uncomfortable, and he didn't want it to. "I'm from the northern continent, too."

Idiot. You don't want to talk about anything that happened there. Why did you bring it up? He didn't need his inner voice to tell him it was a stupid thing to say, but it had already been said.

[lennae]

Amith let out what was supposed to be a rumble, but resulted in more of a purr-like sound as the brown firelizard settled in beside her. Jabari created a fierce protective feeling within the green, for the brown was delicate compared even to she, who was, without a doubt quite fragile when compared to her clutch-mates. She was pleased that Jabari enjoyed her company and was not afraid of her the way she would have been after meeting someone as big as she was compared to him.

Rukbat was shining in full-force at this point, and Amith’s hide gladly soaked up the rays. The warmth was enough to make most feel even the slightest bit drowsy, and for a young dragon who had just spent quite a bit of energy romping about, the effects were ten times as powerful. She hardly noticed Mutasim’s disappearance while he quested for suitable wood, and when he returned she cracked one eye open, the colors whirling sluggishly.

Lennae had begun to make herself a bit more decent. Her clothes were sopping wet and she was certain her hair was a mess. Not that she really minded about the latter. However, walking about in damp clothes for the rest of the day was not really up there on her list of fun things to do before she died, and so her hands began busying themselves with the task of wringing out excess water from her shirt. There wasn’t much she could do other than that, short from removing them and laying them out in the sun to dry. While she wasn’t afraid that Mutasim would take advantage of that situation, something about her being in nothing but her undergarments suggested an even more awkward encounter than what was currently happening.

Mutasim soon returned, a large branch of wood in hand. His response to Amith’s absurd suggestion had obviously been thought out. Spoken like a true diplomat. And well, if she really did wish to try such a thing, then it appeared that she would have two supporters and two pairs of hands to help her. The sleepy green merely sent out a warm feeling of contentment, agreement and love to both her and Mutasim, obviously too tired to speak.

His question startled her. She had been standing there, overseeing the situation, a mere observer when he’d spoke. Her accent. She supposed that it had never been apparent to her that she possessed one. It had always been strange to here the southerner’s talk; she had completely forgotten that it must have been the same to them. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond when he added on that he was a fellow Northerner as well.

“I come from the north yes, but I’d never call it my home,” she responded carefully, sinking down to her knees while she spoke. “The north has been far too unkind to the majority of its inhabitants. A cold and merciless place is no good environment for a parentless child to survive.”

She glanced toward him as she spoke, wondering if he understood. Was that why he seemed so similar to himself? The harsh realities of the north were something that most here at Selenitas couldn’t understand. Oh, they were scared of the north, but they didn’t know just how unjust a place it could be.

[Requiem]

Though Mutasim was an observant person, it was not in his nature to attach abstractions, such as the estimation of a person's beauty, to something as straightforward as physical appearance. All the wet clothing did for him was allow him to estimate her fitness and therefore the level of danger she presented to him should she suddenly turn hostile. Mutasim's impression of Lennae was fairly straightforward when it came to her physical features. Average height, average build, but with a layer of muscle that was more developed than most he'd seen around the weyr - at least in the candidates and weyrlings. Brown hair with a tint of red to it. Brown eyes. Expressive. On a deeper level, there was a sharpness about her features that he was all too familiar with. Finding food had not been altogether easy for her in the past.

All of this was something he'd taken in almost instantly, and the young man was unlikely to notice much else unless it had something to do with body language while she spoke to him. From what he could see, she seemed rather shy. Or at least close-mouthed. Which was certainly fine with him in most situations, as he wasn't particularly talkative either. The issue remained, however, that there was a sense of familiarity that made him distinctly uncomfortable in the silence, as if, were he to allow it to continue, the reason behind that familiarity would reveal itself. And Mutasim was fairly certain that any similarities he might share with Lennae would not be pleasant ones. His past and demeanor made it quite unlikely.

Already, his mind had drifted back to the feel of Amith's mind as it touched his just moments ago. It had shocked him, though the only outward sign of his surprise had been the stilling of his hands. Mutasim was connected to Jabari, certainly, but that was like comparing a raindrop to a waterfall. To have something like that as constantly part of your mind - his eyes flicked toward Lennae for a brief moment. Did she even begin to understand how fortunate she was?

In the turn or so that he'd spent at Selenitas, Mutasim had come to desire human company again, despite the disaster he'd made of his life in the north and the two turns of - Well, at any rate, it didn't matter, because the candidate was not used to openness. It was nearly impossible for him. Back in Bitra, where everyone had a similar background and they all endured the same hardships, words were not important. They instinctively knew each other and drew together out of necessity and loneliness. Here, he found himself different. A creature who was foreign to those around him, and it was a situation he didn't really know how to handle. Thus he remained aloof.

Though the turn had changed him somewhat, at least erasing some of the outward signs of his former life, it was not so quick to change a personality shaped in the crucible of hardship and backed by an intellect that could see the reasonings of the people who had nearly destroyed him and acknowledge them as practical. In many ways, this just increased his bitterness. That bitterness, however, was locked somewhere deep inside, unacknowledged as he shaped the wood with an eye toward detail. Much as he didn't entertain abstractions, what Amith and Jabari represented to him, curled up on the floor of the jungle, was something precious.

Her response was slow in coming. And, because of that, Mutasim thought she wouldn't reply. Though he tried to think of something to say so that they wouldn't have to acknowledge that there was something dark about their companion, he had never been good at small talk. Her words returned to him, though, before he could conceive of anything.

The young man found himself merely grunting in acknowledgement. Truly, his mind had focused on 'parentless child,' and with it came some measure of relief. That must be it, then. She was an orphan as well. Probably had never known her parents at all. That was something of a relief, in that the parallel was not anything darker. Perhaps he was a bit quick to assume that they held no other similarities, but Mutasim didn't want to think of her that way. He didn't want to be dealing with another Narna, someone who had endured the passions and abuse of a man. Didn't want to contemplate that this woman might be another who had blood on her hands, who wouldn't hesitate to take a life so long as the reasoning was sound. It was easier just to say that they were both orphans, abandoned to the harsh realities of the north.

Though the subconscious of his mind would hold the truth, it would hide it from him for a time, and, at least for the moment, he was content. "We were all parentless, where I came from. Some of us never knew our parents. Others were abandoned. Cast aside." He smiled tightly, flinging aside a shaving in a distinctly violent motion. "Always considered a nuisance. Then they decided to use some of their cast-offs in the mines - and other places." His eyes came to rest on hers, direct. "No, the north was never kind."

[lennae]

Mutasim was the closest she had ever come to telling anyone of her true past and now that she had finally let out a grain of truth, rather than a half-thought lie, she felt…not better. But mayhap a little relieved. If he did ever discover the whole story he would not judge her on her actions. It sounded as though he had most likely committed a few unwanted crimes of his own in order to stay alive. That was what the north did. It changed people from sane, thinking people to nothing better than savage animals, fighting for the right to survive. Morals never entered the picture there. People with morals didn’t survive.

“Have you ever thought of going back there someday? To try and help others in similar situations? After all, who are we to escape while others remain? I think…that is what I’d like to do someday.” The idea had been sudden, but as he spoke of his life, filled with so many orphans, she felt a sharp stab of guilt. How much of it was her fault? How many people had died, murdered by the men she lived with, and left helpless children behind to survive as best they could? Perhaps it was even her fault that Mutasim had been abandoned, left to roam the streets or work the minds.

It was nearly enough to cause her to apologize to him right then and there, but then there would be a whole big mess of explanations and she wasn’t feeling too repentant at the moment. Still the words ‘I’m sorry’, floated about in her head, nagging at her, bothering her enough to violently shove them toward Muta. Not that it would do any good. He was a person, not a dragon, and people didn’t hear thoughts. Still, it made her feel somewhat better.

Amith had expressed interest in seeing Lennae’s home, perhaps one day she would finally get the chance to see it. She was almost positive that the green would hate the north with a passion, but the dragon had a large heart and a compulsion to help those in need. If rescuing orphans was their calling, why should the be stopped.

“Have you ever seen snow?” She questioned. “It’s the one thing I miss about it. Not the storms, or the cold, but after a particularly heavy blizzard. It was as though the world had been wiped clean, giving us a chance to try again. Not that we did. Still went about, doing our job, never mind who got hurt in the process.”

[Requiem]

Her question was an odd one. It filled him with a momentary panic. Go back? Go back to Bitra? Never. Not to the place where struggling for survival on the unforgiving streets held his most pleasant memories. The ones he cared about were dead, anyway. Hung. Or worse. Bitran law was unbending, and even though there was no possible way for him or the den of other orphans he ran with to survive without stealing, once caught...The mines? They would have been a blessing. Shards, he would have been thankful if Shitaki had been hung with the rest. Her being taken with him bound his hands - and destroyed Shitaki. She was strong-willed. Intelligent. A woman who would have found a place in the north, given half the chance. Instead, she'd thrown herself from the roof of a building, broken by the shame and abuse. Shitaki had always been stronger than him. Mutasim might have joined her, were he not such a coward.

No, he owed the north nothing. What could he do, anyway? What could Lennae do? Bitra had even managed to touch him here at Selenitas. There was still blood soaked deep into the wooden floor of the candidates' common room at the barracks. He had no doubt he wouldn't survive the return to the northern continent. It would surely destroy him. He wasn't convinced it wouldn't destroy her, either. Mutasim was not helpless. In all likelihood, there wasn't a single person at Selenitas who could best him at hand-to-hand, and certainly not if he had his daggers. But the fact remained that a man alone could not stand against all that the north might throw at him. There were subtler dangers.

The young man had maintained his silence for a time, thinking out his answer as he continued to work at the wood. "Honestly? I don't think there's much we can do, aside from get ourselves killed. The leadership here at Selenitas - this is what it's supposed to be like. We should support them and try to help them influence the north. That's the only way I can see anything changing." Though he'd never put that thought into words before now, it suddenly came to grip him strongly. Yes, Mutasim did believe that the southern weyr embodied things as they should be. Not perfect, no. But anyone who had been here awhile grew comfortable, secure in the knowledge that most of the people around them - particularly the movers and shakers - were acting in the best interest of the weyr and the people of the Southern continent.

Mutasim bit his lip, turning the beginnings of the figure over in his hands as he made small adjustments here and there to a lump that frankly looked a bit amorphous at the moment. Lennae had mentioned snow. Snow meant winter and death for the children on the street. Oh, it could be pretty, yes, but it was a stark, deadly kind of beauty. And soon enough it was just dirty sludge. The candidate smiled thinly at the girl, nodding. She didn't need to hear his pessimistic thoughts. Lennae was obviously trying to have a semi-amiable conversation, and all he could think of were drawbacks and cons to everything she said. This sort of reasoning kept a young man alive in the north, but it certainly wasn't anything to voice here in the south.

"It's awfully pretty here," Mutasim offered, truthfully enough. He liked all the colors. The green. Even in winter, it was pretty green. And the water still flowed. And Lennae didn't have to worry about pneumonia, even though she was standing there in damp clothes. Yes, a lot of this might have to do with association, but the south was beautiful to him. Wild. Untamed. But gentler. "I'm going to have to learn...something..." he added, thoughtfully. Muta truly didn't believe he'd impress, but he still wanted to stay at Selenitas. Even though he didn't have any real skills like the other weyrfolk.

[lennae]

She mulled over his words in her mind, tugging her knees up to her chest and resting her head on them. The dangers in going back far outweighed any good that she and Amith might possibly be able to do there. But waiting for Selenitas to influence the North, why that could take turns! In fact, she couldn't see the mindset of anyone up there changing within her lifetime. Meanwhile, here she would sit, reassuring herself that someday things would be better while at that moment who knew how many were suffering. Even if she could commit herself to that kind of life and not go mad, Amith would never stand for it. Not if the green knew what was going on, and unfortunately, Lennae was no good at lying to her bonded. The dragon would find out eventually, and when that happened not even Faranth would stop her from going off to do what she knew was right. Lennae would have no choice but to go with her.

"Selenitas's influence is not likely to happen in our lifetime, or even in the lifetime of the next generation. If we simply wait for the North to change, how many innocents will we have inadvertently doomed to death? Even if it is not much, I think we can do it. There are ways to get around without getting killed. Not to mention that dragons have a nifty ability to blink /between/ at the first sign of danger." She had to pause and take a breath. What was she saying? Lennae had never felt a compulsion to at upon something as strongly as this. Especially after having heard what little of his past Mutasim was willing to give. He might think of her dream as foolish, but she wouldn't and she knew that there had to be others that felt the same. Why couldn’t he seem to understand where she was coming from?

Sighing, Lennae began to feel that what she was proposing was futile. After all, if she couldn’t even get the support of someone who knew what it was like to live in north, how was she to convince people who had known nothing but the comforts of the south to go along with her plan? Perhaps Muta was right. Maybe she should simply enjoy what she had been given, and let Selenitas influence the North on it’s own. She focused on the carving in her companion’s hand, trying to decipher what was what. It was still rather shapeless at the moment, but here and there, hints of what it would become were starting to shine through. He had a gift, whether he realized it enough.

“Yes, it’s pretty enough here,” she replied amiably. No use in bringing up her mistrust of the jungle and the dangers that it harbored. After all, it had been that which had almost killed her, something that she wasn’t too inclined to forget. It certainly was different than what she had grown up in, and the warmer weather was a pleasant change. All in all, Selenitas wasn’t bad. Just different.

“Perhaps you should take up carving. I’m sure there are plenty of practical uses for a talent like what you’ve got. And I’m sure that there’ll be another clutch on the sands soon enough, if that’s what you’d like.” She didn’t see why he was under the impression that he would need to learn a craft. He was young enough that he could stand at a few clutches yet, and while he didn’t specialize in anything in particular by the sounds of it, and extra set of hands was always a nice thing to have around.

[Requiem]

Mutasim refrained from pointing out the simple truth. She may be a dragonrider, but he certainly wasn't. No betweening for him. If he got himself in trouble, he'd have to get himself out of it. A boy - or even a single man - who had no high-placed family or earned rank had no authority in the north. What did she expect someone like him to do? Sabotage the 'evil' operations going on? Try to smuggle people out of the continent? Become some sort of demented vigilante with a twisted sense of justice? None of these things were likely to make a lasting impression on the north, even if he proved successful enough at any of them to survive even a few months. And if he managed to strike fear into the hearts of some of the men at the core of the corruption and chauvinism? He'd just terrorize the very people he was trying to help. Maybe that was pessimistic, but most people who considered themselves victims were unwilling to take the risks to get out of their situation, and the sort of extreme measures that liberating the north would require was more likely to scare them than generate any sort of gratitude.

He could tell that his attitude bothered Lennae. Mutasim just wasn't much of the tragic hero type. It was somewhat misleading, actually, this face he presented her. If there was any conceivable, remotely practical, way to change the horrors he'd faced as a child, he wouldn't hesitate. Death was not a frightening prospect to him. It was the futility that he feared. His life - it wasn't precious until you considered all those who had suffered in one form or another to ensure that he survived. Shitaki. Uu'n. Z'hin. And many others, some alive and some dead. To throw that gift away on some hopeless cause was the epitome of disrespect. He also would do anything for a friend, even if it was hopeless from the start. What she described, though...No, that was beyond him.

Biting his lip, he concentrated on the figure. It was the first time anyone had asked anything of him. Somehow, he wanted this to be better than all the little random things he'd fashioned over the months. This had to capture a spirit. Strangely, the spirit he was trying to capture was the same hope for the future that he despaired of ever realizing. Strange, how the human mind works. The figure, as it truly began to take shape, was transforming into a suggestion. Making it concrete would somehow rob it of the softness. An imperfect circle, broader at the trunk, tapered into a tail that curved about to touch what had to be the head, for it had the suggestion of a wedge shape. All of it was suggestion right now, and would remain mostly suggestion when he finished.

His gaze flicked toward Lennae. Take up carving? He didn't think that was something highly demanded around here, when all was said and done. It wasn't like he knew how to fashion a wagon or a stall or some other such more useful thing. Just create objects, and rather imperfectly at that. He could fashion...awls. That almost made him laugh. Maybe he should join Gina and her knitting empire. He couldn't knit, but he could make enough knitting needles to last her and the weyr a lifetime. Snowshoes were rather useless here. And, unless a lot of people suddenly had a need for canes, that was about all he could think of to fashion from wood. "Maybe," he responded, clearly amused. "I don't know if I'd stand for another clutch," he added, honestly. "At least not one of Aslath's. She's already terrified Jabari twice, and if she ever remembers me -" He pulled a face.

After a moment, he spoke again, more solemnly. "I'd like to see changes in the north as much as you. But all the northerners understand is power. I don't think I could respect anyone who changes things using the same brutality they're trying to stop. Some people think the end justifies the means...I'm not one of those." He sought out her eyes, meeting her gaze squarely for the first time. "If you could conceive of any way to help the change come faster, I would be willing to help. It's just that I can't figure out how we could really change things."