Imprinted memories, footprints in sand [Keliris]

[serenity]

The hand that reached for his face, that fully intended on caressed his cheek looked fuzzy, as if he were looking at it though smoke. Confused Garieon shied away from he strangeness of it at first, his heart beating rapidly in ever increasing doubt and fear. The need to be reassured, however, won over these feelings and his eyes fluttered half closed as he leaned his face into the memory of familiar touch.

But what caressed his skin wasn't the body of his lover. Not the one that he'd known for so long. The fingers were cold and the palm clammy, sticking to his soft brush of facial hair as if it were trying to enter his skin directly. In a panic, Garieon clutched at the thing's arm to force it away from himself but his panic only increased when he realised that there was no arm attached to the wrist....

It looked like it extended from Between.

Gasping aloud, arms flailing about as he bolted upright, Garieon was nearer screaming aloud in his panic than he was to fainting until he realized that no cold, clammy hands of death tried to impede his movements but rather the thick woolen blanket had wrapped itself around his chest and then his legs. Pushing it to the ground roughly, his face pale and sweating, Garieon backed to the corner of the bed, positioning himself with his back in the very corner of the room where nothing could sneak up behind him.

Shards, where the frack was he? His eyes cast about almost wildly as he took in the strange and oddly familiar surroundings, knowing he wasn't at the Weyr he'd been born in. But as his mind slowly awoke and his heartbeat decreased in pace, realization set in. No, he was no longer at Fort. He'd left that awful place and was safe (as safe as he could be, at least) in Selenita's Weyr. In the Candidate Barricks.

Almost collasping within himself, Garieon shrunk down into a ball, his tall frame curling around itself to aid in his sudden and drastic need for comfort. Gulping, he cursed the dryness in his mouth and wished he could have klah, both to ease the discomfort in his mouth but to ensure he wouldn't fall back asleep and again be subjected to that dream. He shuddered slightly at the thought of it, his hand unthinkingly brushing across his face where the thing had touched him for even though it was a dream, he still felt the grasp of the fingers against his skin.

Gritting his teeth against the panic sob welling up in his chest, Garieon dropped his hand and pushed himself away from the wall, glancing about the room for something to drink. It was hard to see in the dim light and even if he knew where a glowbasket was, he'd be hestiant to open one for fear of waking the others.

[glamourie]

Mm. Over Keliris turned, curling into a small ball; it was late enough that he was well into sleep, quite a feat considering that the dark-haired boy usually took ages to reach peace. His mind was always racing with thoughts, agitated at being disturbed for even the most important thing let alone the ones he deemed trivial - which, really, applied to most things in his life anymore. Awake, Keliris felt alone in the world, like no one noticed him, like he wasn't worth paying attention to, and that made him angry and bitter. Asleep he was at peace to some degree, but the misery often showed on his features when his arrogant facade fell away. So it was that he often slept with his face pressed into his knees, lying on his side in the smallest ball possible, his eyes closed and his face hidden from view. The veil of dark hair helped to hide his emotions. No, he wasn't pathetic enough to cry in his sleep, nothing of that nature, but he did often frown, and more and more often, he'd taken to muttering. Not that he knew that, though Kaliran (also a candidate, and occupying the cot nearest to him) had woken him on more than one occasion.

That particular night, it wasn't Kaliran that roused Keliris from sleep, though. It was a chill that came from sweating and memories of delusions, fevers inexplicable. He shot bolt-upright, facing his brother's cot with a silent glower. The look had nothing to do with Kaliran who slept peacefully, and everything to do with his dreams. The last thing he wanted was to recall an illness that had nearly taken his life. Why in the world was his mind focusing on that in the middle of the night, of all things? He blamed the recent Flight and the fact that no one in the Weyr was left unaffected. Queen flights were loud.

He wasn't the only one awake. Keliris blinked across the barracks in the darkness, well-aware of someone else (who's name he didn't know and hadn't cared to learn) sitting up on their cot. He spun on his own, turning so that one knee was folded underneath him and he watched, in silence, as the other boy stood and moved across the room. Keliris had very good night vision as a result of sneaking around a lot as a child. He was perfectly comfortable moving around in the dark, and he memorized the shadows, slightly darker spots, in the candidate barracks not long after he arrived. He rarely slept for too long (Really, it was a wonder he hadn't fainted as a result!), so recalling all the lingering shapes wasn't difficult. He spent entirely too much time sitting in the dark staring at nothing and everything at once, and besides, Selenitas was home. He was born and raised there.

Where in the world was that boy going? It looked like he was heading toward the third floor, which was not the best of ideas, considering that most of the girls would not appreciate some random boy in their barracks in the middle of the night. Twisting his face up in an unpleasant scowl that no one could see (but he knew it was there and that was good enough for him), Keliris swung his legs over the side of the cot and padded silently to where the shadow of the other boy had stopped. He was being deliberately quiet, intentionally trying to sneak up on him. Consideration wasn't exactly Keliris's strong point, but he'd learn over time, most likely. Or someone would throttle the life out of him. Either one, really.

"Boo," he said, just loud enough for the figure near him to hear, and devoid of emotion as he folded his arms over his chest. The posture might have been intimidating, were it not dark and Keliris not barely five-foot-four-inches and feminine. But unfortunately for him, no one could even see him, let alone the position he was in or the carefully practiced scowl on his face.

[serenity]

If Garieon could have jumped Between like he'd all too often watched the dragons and flits do, the latter more constantly for mere emotions (much like the sheer fright that washed over him at the moment), he'd have done so a the softly uttered word in his ear. Sputtering and instinctively crouching down to ward off the impending attack from the hands of death, Garieon's chest hurt from the intensity of the gasp he'd let out, an icy ball of dread in the pit of his stomach and his skin crawling with an immediate cold chill.

He cracked his knee on something he couldn't see in the dark and because of the force at which he'd ducked, jolted the bottom of his chin on the same knee, managing to bite his tongue in the process.

"... 'fards." Came the slightly slurring response a moment later when no other sound was made and no sign of attack came. Realizing he was still a little (a little?!?) jumpy after his nightmare, he became very embarassed and searched (unsuccessfully) for the person from who the voice had come. Squinting, he stood up very slowly, rubbing his chin with the back of his hand, leaning forward at the waist while he looked in the direction the sound had come from.

It never occured to Garieon that the person who stood there could see him, if it had, he'd take a moment to think about how silly he looked, rubbing his chin, tongue stuck out slightly, squinting into the darkness while he favored one knee. Was this the way all of Selentias' residents were going to be? He surely hoped not, he'd end up going quite mad if they made habits of sneaking up on him in the dark.

"Whoozedere?" He whispered, finally sticking out a tenative hand to feel for the intruder, giving up on seeing them. He was no longer scared knowing that anyone in the Candidate barricks likely belonged there and sounding an alarm to a murderous intruder wouldn't be hard.

... unless everyone else was already dead. He pushed that thought aside and urged himself on, splayed fingers making contact with ... something.

[glamourie]

My, my, had he spooked him? Keliris took an abrupt step back and to the side to avoid being slammed into as the other boy - dare he think it? - went into a full-fledged panic at one measly word. He hadn't even been trying to be overly scary. Was it cruel of him that he wanted to laugh? He refrained, but just barely, though he did bring one hand to his mouth to hide the unpleasant smirk. But not much about Keliris was pleasant. He was mean by nature, it was just one of his dominant traits. He liked making others feel bad, if he could help it; oh, he didn't fight, but he was cold and condescending enough to make up for that anymore. Most of his unpleasant behavior (and that was most of what there was to him, outwardly) stemmed from a massive inferiority complex. His whole life he's just been one in a million, not all that special to anyone, not even to his parents. They had two sons. His foster mother had loved him, but he wasn't hers. He felt like he was... just... horribly overlooked and alone in the world, and if he couldn't be memorable by being nice, or at the very least by being social, he'd be memorable by being mean. People had a tendency to remember the cruel more often than the kind anyway. And he liked making other people feel as bad as he felt much of the time... as if that would heal the internal pain he never let surface. Keliris did not realize, though, that that was what he was doing, at least not completely. He rarely analyzed his behavior.

Amber eyes lingered on Garieon (the closer he came, the more he recognized his fellow candidate, for despite his tendency to ignore others, Keliris was good at names) as the other boy smacked his chin off his knee. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to laugh outright, once again, and the slurred question made him smirk again; or perhaps a better description was that the existing one widened slightly. The entire posture that the other candidate had was hilarious. Didn't he realize how foolish he looked? No, he probably didn't. People rarely realized how foolish they looked. It was something Keliris relished in because he could watch others make total, utter fools of themselves, say nothing, and it would take them ages to catch on to why he found them so amusing.

Who was there, indeed.

"I doubt my name would make any consequence to you at this point, and I very highly doubt you could even pronounce it from the way you're slurring your words, Garieon," Keliris replied drolly, though he was quiet enough so as to not disturb the other boys in the barracks. Just because he was rude much of the time didn't mean he wanted to get beaten over the head with a large blunt object for waking someone and he knew candidates who had bad attitudes in regards to being woken up. Keliris narrowed his eyes on Garieon's shadow. He honestly didn't think the other candidate knew who he was. It would have surprised him immensely if he did. "But I am called Keliris, and you are making a great deal of racket. What is it that you're looking for? Or were you intentionally planning to sneak into the girls' barracks in the dead of night, under cover of darkness, unnoticed? May I ask her name?"

He very highly doubted that Garieon was actually sneaking off to visit a girl. If he really thought any of the female candidates could be bothered with Garieon (who he knew to be more feminine than some of the other girls - which was a rich observation coming from Keliris), he might have let him be. As it was, the few times he'd seen Garieon about, he was like a blind, deaf and dumb wherry, floundering about. Poor deadglow probably was lost. Keliris was counting on that, though. He could swoop in, lead him in the right direction and make him feel like a fool for not knowing where he was going. It sounded like a plan to him.

[serenity]

The sound of the voice made Garieon drop his hand suddenly, preoccupied with placing a face to that name. But this was something he couldn't do for no matter how much he rapidly searched his memory of all those he had met since arriving at the Weyr, the owner of this voice hadn't been one of them. He rather didn't like the tone of the words. Straightening, he pondered the name that he was given. Keliris? Who acted as if he knew who he was? That was rather rude of him, wasn't it? Garieon decided that Keliris was probably one of those anti-social clouts who preferred to hang about the shadows rather than interact with others. (Who was Garieon kidding, he was one himself!) And he wondered if Keliris had actually been taught no manners or if he simply chose to ignore them.

The question he was asked, however, made him quite forget how offeneded he got when accused of making a lot of noise. He hadn't been making any noise at all before he was so rudely snuck up upon, that was for sure, though Garieon didn't feel that pointint this out would be rather wise with the reception he was so far getting of the fellow.

"Female?" He repeated under his breath, though the amusement at the idea was still clear in his words. "I had a ni-- Need for something to drink." He said, suddenly catching himself before he opened himself to further ridicule by this one. "Since I am not yet accustomed to the layout of the barricks and didn't wish to disturb anyone by opening a glowbasket, I was looking for the pitcher of water in the dark." Barricks always kept water on hand, at least at Fort. Then again, it was less for the true comfort of the Candidates and more to dispell the 'I was thirsty' excuse for Candidates caught wandering the Weyr at night. He spoke slowly, as if Keliris had missed some vital clue and Garieon was worried he might not catch on immediately, testing his sore tongue against his teeth.

"And you are, what, Keliris? Junior Candidatemaster?" He asked, his eyes now finally adjusted enough in the dim light to make out the shape of a shorter person than himself, more slender and .. ah, he recognized that figure. The boy who looked more like a female than one really ought to in Garieon's opinion. Though he'd found the young man attractive, he had gotten no 'feeling' from him or indication of what he preferred and .. Well, instead of risking making his future in the place unbearable by angering someone, Garieon had simply not asked after any of the males he found attractive or that lingered longer than the others in talking to him.

"Or do you make a habit of sneaking up on newcomers to the Weyr in the dark?"

[glamourie]

Head tilt. Keliris raised an eyebrow just slightly, though it couldn't be seen in the dark. (But then, had that stopped him from making various faces thus far? No. No it had not.) What did he mean, pitcher of water? The first floor was where refreshments and the wash rooms were. Not the third. And things of that nature were certainly not kept where some clumsy oaf could knock them over and spill the water - or klah - everywhere! It was painfully obvious the other boy was new if he thought that. Besides... how was anything to be kept properly if it was sitting around in the candidate dormitories? Silly, silly. The entire idea was absolutely silly. What did they teach at - at wherever the boy came from!

And he thought he was Junior Candidatemaster? How funny. Keliris raised an eyebrow, aching to agree with the statement, to comment that yes, yes he was, and that Garieon would have twice the amount of chores for mouthing off. Every instinct told him to try and swindle the other boy into doing his chores so he could go to lessons and then relax the rest of the day - although, he would go mad with boredom soon enough and the punishment he would receive from the real candidate master would no doubt be enough to sway him from the temptation. Ah, but his fellow candidate left himself so very open to such comments. He was just fortunate that Keliris wasn't in the mood to risk the punishment... not when Aslath had just risen and there would be a clutch on the Sands soon enough. With his luck he'd be shunted back to Weyrbrat until the next clutch for his indiscretion, if not indefinitely. No, that wouldn't do.

"The latter," he replied with an indifferent shrug. "Although I am not exclusive to newcomers, anyone moving around in the middle of the night as though prowling into the third floor is likely to receive such a response. Like I said, I highly doubt the girls would appreciate the idea of some strange boy sneaking about their belongings. I should have let you to it, just imagine their faces when they woke to find you staring over them with that creepy, glassy-eyed look most boys get. Honestly! Well, if it's thirst that is your problem, instead of needling me and looking like a confused wherry, why don't we go somewhere where we don't run the risk of angry candidates rolling over and giving us the most hideous looks for rousing them? This way. Do try not to trip over anything, I'm not in the mood to be picking up after you. The same goes for smacking your chin off things, I'm no Healer and from the looks of things, Rawign's dead to all of Pern for the rest of the night."

Keliris turned on his toe and slipped, still barefoot, across the floor toward the pathway to the common rooms. He gave a light nod in the direction of Rawign as he passed and despite it being dark, there was no denying that Keliris's assessment was correct; the older boy was sprawled out on his cot, flat on his back, legs hanging off the side, arms spread eagle, hair a mess, clearly drooling and with a firelizard curled up on his chest. And both of them were casually snoring in time with one another. If ever there was a picture of complete comfort, it was Rawign and Beggar, and they were visible even in the dark to some degree, though the firelizard was much harder to see than his humanpet for Beggar was of the darkest shades of blue. The only reason he was noticeable at all was because Rawign had on a white shirt to sleep in, and Beggar made for an unusual dark spot on it with a twitching tail. Firelizards snored, who knew?

Rolling his eyes, Keliris slipped down into the common rooms with ease and adjusted one of the glow baskets. No one would be asleep down there, despite it being late. Then he turned and waited for the other candidate to arrive, while finger-brushing his hair casually. He wasn't vain; it was an almost nervous habit. He'd felt safer in the dark.

[serenity]

Having had expected a retort to his sarcasim in kind, Garieon was momentarily taken aback by the boy's explaination. Glancing towards where he had been going, he sighed and shrugged. Garieon hadn't realized that that lead to the girl's dorms when he went in that direction norhad he realized that this place had a seperate room for things like water. No more simple jaunts to the corner of the room and a waiting pitcher of water here, he resigned himself, also having a feeling that there was another Candidate, the one currenly standing near him and harassing him, that slept lightly. That would be interesting, to say the least, while they were both ensconsed in the Candidate barricks and later, should they both Impress, in the Weyrling barricks.

Garieon hadn't slept well for months, the recurring dream of his dead lover's hand reaching for him from Between haunting him nightly, sometimes more than once, to the point where he was more apt to keep himself awake to the point that he was so exhausted the only sleep he managed to get was sure to be dreamless. He'd hoped that the change in Weyrs, in scenery, in the people around him, would help with that problem. He'd been wrong.

Taking care where he stepped and what was around him, Garieon padded across the floor in his sleeping shirt and thin pants, glancing down at the boy Keliris indicated with the flit on his chest. He suddenly ached with jealousy though not for Rawign having a flit. No, the innocence of pure, sound sleep and the total relief that came with it had long ago left Garieon's care and seemed unlikely to return. Sleeping draughts made him feel queasy, which meant for an uncomfortable sleep. The nearest he'd gotten to what Rawign was enjoying came after too much wine and brought with it a nasty headache in the morning.

Wondering about the boy who walked before him, Garieon stayed silent as he descended into the room, which was lit by a glowbasket. Even though he was hesitant by the almost sudden change in Keliris, he was grateful that he was taking time from his own sleep to show him where to find things and Garieon suddenly wished he'd taken the time to figure out those small details before he'd gone off to sleep.

He noticed a pitcher and went to it immeditely, pouring out fresh mug for himself and, after a second of thought, looked over his shoulder at the shorter boy who stood fingering his hair. "Were you thirsty?" He asked, arching a brow as he lifted a second, empty mug with his other hand.

[glamourie]

Was he - Oh, by the Egg. Keliris raised an eyebrow at Garieon before twisting his face into another unpleasant scowl that answered the other boy's question more efficiently than words ever would. "No, I am not thirsty, and even if I was, I am fully capable of fixing myself a drink," he snapped testily. What was Garieon's problem? He reminded Keliris of some subservient slave, obedient to the whims of others. If he wanted a slave, he'd have broken Garieon's face and told him to obey. That was what he did, wasn't it? He folded his arms over his chest and padded silently into the middle of the common room. The posture was meant to make him look intimidating, and he needed as much help as he could get, considering that Keliris was so short, and built more like a female than most guys were. That build had cost him a lot as a child; he'd learned to fight and scrap to make up for it, to be the most vicious of the group to make a point, and though he'd mostly grown out of the violent streak, there was some part of Lir who thought it was a very, very good idea to make anyone who annoyed him hurt.

At the moment, he was annoyed at Garieon, and for a very unfair reason. Garieon hadn't woken him. He'd awoke with a chill, and that was in part why he was huddling up so much. His mind was still adjusting to the fact that he didn't have a fever, he wasn't sick, there wasn't a chance of him dying soon. Then he'd seen movement and the anger he felt at the dreams he'd had was completely directed at the source of said movement. Oh, Keliris was smart enough to know exactly what he was doing, but dragons would go vegetarian before he'd confess it aloud to anyone. Misplaced aggression was a specialty of his.

"Which Weyr did you come from? Benden or Fort?"

It was none of his business to ask that question, and Keliris knew it, but he also could tell just from Garieon's posture that he was from one of the Weyrs. Lir had met several people from the Holds and CraftHalls before they came to Selenitas and while several - like Garieon - were prone to seeming quite squeamish (Actually, in his experience, most people from the North tended to be very iffy about who they trusted -- a sentiment he could respect, since he didn't trust anyone or anything.) when sneaked up on. But it was always possible to tell who came from the Weyrs for Keliris. They were the ones who took the longest time to adjust, the ones who tossed and turned in their sleep and made vague, awkward noises. They were the ones who were the most secretive of all, as if something terrible happened to them. He'd been raised in Selenitas, so he had no real knowledge of what went on up north aside from the fact that dragons were fighting. He'd asked Rawign about that, because the other boy was so hesitant to go near any of the magnificent creatures. Dragons fighting, and people terrified of them...

Judging from Garieon's sleeping habits, he was definitely from the Weyrs. Keliris expected to be told to shove off for asking something so personal, but he had every intention of attempting to bully Garieon for answers if he was. Not necessarily physically, no, but Keliris could be extremely manipulative when he put his mind to it... and Garieon, for better or worse, had his full attention.

[serenity]

So suprised at the reaction that he got from his offer, Garieon's eyebrows shot up as he carefully placed the pitcher back where he'd gotten it after pouring himself some water. Had he been offensive in some way that he didn't know about? Note to self: Keliris was adverse to friendly offers. Garieon could remember that, knowing in his heart that a friendship with the boy whom he was currently standing with was highly unlikely.

The inital reaction Garieon had to the simple, seemingly innocent question that Keliris asked him was a fury of thoughts in his head. Why did he ask? Was someone looking for him? Even as the question posed itself in his head he knew it was unlikely. No one at Fort would ever miss him being gone... Not his foster-mother or the foster-siblings he'd been raised with and certainly not the birth parents that had forgotten his presence in this world and, more importantly, his relation to them. There were too many others still at Fort to be paid attention to, too much happening that was much more important than the disappearance of a single candidate for anyone to take notice of his absence and began searching around for him or asking if anyone had seen him.

But he couldn't help the inital reaction, he still felt like he was on the run and needing to protect himself. So he cast a wary glance at Keliris and hesitated a moment before replying. "Fort." He answered, his voice clearly stating he wasn't in the mood for a long discussion of the politics at his former Weyr or anything else in regards to it.

Why did this boy seem so cold? What was wrong with him? Even if Garieon hadn't been the most friendly chap he certainly wasn't outright rude. Then again, for all he knew everyone at this place was like Keliris and Garieon was sure that he'd simply not enjoy his time here were that the fact of the matter. Seriously beginning to question his decision to come to this place, to leave Fort entirely, Garieon wasn't at all sure how to react to this boy.

"Where are you from?" He asked, quietly, convinced he'd just get snapped at again for the asking. He sipped his water, suddenly feeling that this late night meeting would come to no good ends for him and he'd probably be safer running now and sleeping in a storage bun somwhere than offering himself up for slaughter to the apparent viciousness of the one who apparently hated him for accidently waking him.

[glamourie]

The accusing look Keliris offered Garieon did not slightly waver. He found his way to one of the chairs and curled his legs underneath him, arms winding around them as his eyes focused intently on the other candidate. The expression was meant to be threatening, eyes narrowed, legs in front of his chest, expression hardened as much as possible. No doubt he would have been far more imposing if he wasn't, oh, short and delicate in appearance, but Keliris knew how to use what he had to his advantage. The look he gave Garieon wasn't pleasant, and it wasn't meant to be. But it received him an answer none the less. Fort. Fort Weyr. So, was that how everyone at Fort behaved? So sharding skittish?

Garieon's question made his gaze soften. Just slightly, but it did soften. He leaned back and tilted his head up toward the ceiling, perfectly relaxed, as if he was oblivious to the presence of the other boy. Maybe he was, for the moment. He tried to imagine what life in the north was like, but he had trouble. For all his grouchiness and pessimism, the worst thing Keliris had witnessed was himself so terribly sick. And he still looked ill, no doubt as a result of having not taken care of himself. Gaunt and slender was he, pale with dark circles under his eyes, no doubt from lack of sleep and improper eating habits despite people swooping around him like golds over a clutch. Keliris just... hadn't ever fully recovered. He was better physically than he was inside.

"Salira, rider of green Raeneth, is my mother. My father was a brownrider. In other words, I was born and raised here my entire life." He didn't sound bitter, or thoughtful, or curious. He'd met people from the north before and he knew that he was viewed as lucky. Selenitas was a veritable paradise to people from the north, if only because the climate was so different. Warm weather, relatively laid-back attitude, generally calm and composed: it was wonderful in their eyes. But to someone who was raised there, it was just home. Keliris was willing to admit he couldn't understand what life away from Selenitas was. Some people might have assumed their life had a chance at being worse -- he didn't. He knew he had it easy. But then, people who came from there should be willing to accept that they had escaped a veritable torture of life and therefore show gratitude to the Weyr that took them in. That was his mindset. Cold? Yes.

Shaking his head, Keliris glanced off to the side so that he didn't look at Garieon. How pathetic he was. He wasn't in danger anymore and it was unlikely he was something worth remembering from the north. If he was, he wouldn't have simply been left there for everyone to notice. Kaegan of Gold Millieth was worth remembering and got her own introduction. Everyone else? Pfft; worthless so far. "You shouldn't cower. You act like a victim and even if you are one, the way you flinch away from everyone will make you an easy target for bullying, and readily recognizable as different. In a place like this, it's better to fit in. People ask a lot less questions that way."