Ordinary World {Rii}

[kat]

Mihkal had been minding his own business since he'd arrived here. Being sociable but not really making the effort to be so. Doing his chores, living the day to day routine, adjusting to his new life here at the Weyr. The only person he'd seen much of was T'lor, his cousin. However, since T'lor had his blue bonded, Shith, to take care of? Mihkal saw him very sporadically.

He was all right sticking to his chores and keeping himself occupied. Only it wasn't busy enough for him, being a candidate. There was always something to do when you were a traveling caravan member. Here, he was finding he had time and nothing to fill it with. As he made his bunk he looked around the mostly empty barracks. Perhaps it would be wise to get better acquainted with the other candidates. After all, how many had he officially met? Could he even remember any of their names? The answer made him sigh inwardly. He couldn't.

He really needed to be more social than a mere 'hello, how are you', if he wanted to not die of boredom and too much time spent doing absolutely nothing. A busy person needed to stay busy. He needed to be filling this empty time with something. He had had friends in the caravan. He had had T'lor, and the few close friends. The whole caravan was like a close knit family, really. Here, he felt so distant from everyone--even T'lor. He hardly saw him, after all. He had his dragon, and while Mihkal didn't hold it against him? He had no one and nothing himself.

He sighed vocally this time, and sat down on the edge of the bunk. What a change this was from the caravan life! He was bored even with all his patience. Bored because he had nothing do do, and no one to talk to or do things with. Something had to give, so he had to attempt to change things for the better. Maybe make a friend amongst his fellow candidates? That would be a welcome start. So, he decided to do just that, though he wasn't the best at introductions, first meetings and 'getting to know you'. Couldn't hurt to try, after all. He heard footsteps drawing near. Perhaps now was his chance?

[rii]

Bored. Bored.

Dark brown eyes flicked to and fro in search of entertainment. Quintrell was a restless creature, and a couple weeks at the Weyr and he had explored nearly every crook and cranny with knowledge of the place worthy of a full-bred weyrbrat. He had met some of them, played their games, fun kids. But now, with a slight bounce in his steps, Quintrell needed to find something to do before he fell over and died of boredom. He felt sure that if he tried to hold still he'd just explode on the spot. Quintrell could not hold still.

In his wanderings, Quintrell found his feet leading him back into the candidate barracks. Old news there. He had checked everyone's trunks ten times over. No one had anything of interest. Not like him, he who glittered with numerous rings, bracelets and necklaces. One day the people of the Weyr might recognize that he was wearing their stuff–of which he had stolen. A grin stretched his features, enhancing his boyish qualities. What better place to hide something than in plain sight? Quintrell's style was loud, in both dressing and thieving. He didn't do subtlety, at least not full-fledged. He was a sneaky bastard, be sure, and be warned.

Oh, another living being, sitting there so glumly on the bed. Bored too?

Quintrell broke into a sprint, planting a foot on the bottom bunk to propel him up and onto the top one. The thief then draped himself over the edging, dangling in front of Mihkal with a wide grin. Frantically his arms flailed in some sort of... wave of greeting. "Greeeeetings my fellow Candidate!" He eyed the other quickly. "Why the long face? Home-sick are ya? Or is this your home? Does that mean you are sick of home?"

[kat]

Mihkal watched as a boy materialized, one he recognized merely as another candidate. He didn't even know his name. Yet, this boy didn't know his, either. It was a fair turnabout. Still, here was an opportunity. It had presented itself, and he figured he would say something. Only he didn't get that chance. The other boy spoke up first, and somehow? Mihkal was grateful for it. He was a horrible conversation starter. This made it far easier on him.

"No, I'm not from Selenitas," he began, his medium tone voice a little soft. "I'm from a traveling caravan. How about you?" There, it was a start. Conversation flowed from here on in, didn't it? It was easiest when you were new and knew nothing about one another--or so he'd been told. He usually found it easier to speak to people he knew, though it did merit reason. He'd grown up with people he knew, and rarely had cause to speak to people he didn't. However, when you had all the questions in the world you could ask about the other? Well, this might not be so bad.

His eyes watched the other, though his expression was neutral. Was he a dragon or wher candidate? Both? How old was he? He looked around his age, but maybe he was a touch younger? Older? Hard to say, really. Had he been here long? That one would be answered in a moment. Did he like it here? The questions he might ask raced through his mind. Likely, some of them would be answered before he even asked. He rationalized this and stored it away for later use. He might not have to ask people much if they offered the information themselves.

He sat up a little straighter, running a hand through his blond hair. A name would be good, right? Well, in a moment. Wasn't there a wher hatching happening soon? He'd heard rumors. Lots happened when you listened and didn't spend all your time talking. He knew that a queen was due to rise sooner than later. That would be news for days afterward. Who caught her, when the clutch would be. Then, when the clutch was laid? It would be all about how many eggs, and the whole excited waiting for the eggs to hatch. Was he excited? Well, not yet. So far, he wasn't really anything. He just was curious to know if Impressing was to be his lot in life or not. He'd been searched, after all. It had to mean he was suitable, at least. Suitable...but still, it didn't guarantee. He wasn't really thinking a lot about it, anyway. It could go either way, after all.

[rii]

Hum. Quintrell's frantic movements came to a temporary halt. Arms hung limp, fingertips nearly reaching down to Mihkal's knees. Large brown eyes stared openly at the other candidate, blinking a few times in awe. This guy must be one of those silent and thoughtful types. At least he looked like one of those introverted keep all their thoughts to themselves person. What, with the neutral blank stare n'all. Quintrell wasn't anything like that. His thoughts spilled out of his mouth before they even became whole in his mind. Buuut, it was okay that Mihkal was quiet, because Quintrell could talk enough for two people. Mhm, sure could.

"A traveling caravan, you say? What a coincidence! I came from a traveling family too." The thief began to wave his dangling torso side to side; grin wide and friendly. "What did your family trade?" Only a very short pause followed this question. All too soon Quintrell launched off in his own story. Nothing wrong with that, reasoned the thief, since Mihkal didn't seem talkative. "My uncle was a Mastersmith and my father was one of the best sellers. We're from the north, so selling weapons to both Fort and Benden was a huuuge trade, especially when the war first started. They made such a profit they could of easily become Lord Holders, but they loved traveling more. Those were the daays, ahh~"

Quintrell took a moment to reminisce, eyes unfocused as he stared at some point beyond Mihkal. After a few brief seconds before pulling his arms up, curling fingers around the bottom edge of the bunk. "I remember riding in the back of one of the wagons, my mom and sister would be singing–they could of been harpers if they wanted–and the customers would just wander over, drawn by their voices. The Lord Holder at Lemos actually invited us to stay with him once, in exchange to hear their songs, that place was so biiiig. And he had these runners that—ahh!"

The constant fidgeting got the best of him, and Quintrell slipped off the edge of the bed and fell into a heavy, graceless heap on the floor. Right on top of Mihkal's feet. Quintrell absently put a hand against the boy's ankle in order to push himself up into a sitting position–the action a ruse to check if the other had anything hiding inside. Knives were usually stashed there. Why Quintrell had no idea, because it seemed such an awkward place to him. Hard to look casual while.. reaching into a boot for a knife. "Your boot is untied." Had he done that? Maybe. Busy, quick little fingers.

"Hey, want to do something fun?"

[kat]

It would seem that Mihkal had found his polar opposite in Quintrell. However, it was a welcome thing, in a sense. The boy babbled and saved Mihkal having to do much talking. He preferred to be on the listening end of the equation, and if he wanted to ramble, he was welcome to do so. Mihkal noted he'd asked him a question and yet continued speaking thereafter. He did what he did best and listened intently. He had a good memory and would attempt to store this information away later.

Finally, when Quin was done, he replied quietly, "I'm Mihkal, before I forget we haven't been introduced." He left a pause, before addressing the other once more. "We traded everything. Everyone there took on something or other. Smiths, artists, crafters of all sorts--even those who worked in runner breeding and in procuring wher and firelizard eggs." He left it at that. Unless this other boy asked, he wouldn't feel the need to mention what it was that he'd done. It wasn't like it was important, now. Not unless he didn't Impress. Then he'd likely go back to the caravan, and that wasn't so bad a thing. Only Tahlor--no, T'lor, now--won't be there, he reminded himself. That did make a difference.

Mihkal glanced down at his boot, then back at Quin. His face was poker straight, as he replied, "is it? Odd, because I just tied it and I haven't gone anywhere." His look was blank, but pointed. He knew that the boot had not untied itself. It wasn't mere coincidence that the other boy had just been sprawled there. Was it a prank, then? Or something more...?

Thieves were something every single person on the caravan was wary of, and knew the tricks of. When your business was to go to Gathers, Holds and Weyrs to sell things--some of these things quite rare--you had to be informed on how thieves operated. Pickpockets were one kind, and only someone who was quite experienced would even think that there might be something a person kept in a boot. He stored this away along with the rest of what he already knew of the other boy. He would catch him at it, if he tried and actually managed to steal something--only Mihkal didn't have anything worth stealing on him. The boy would be sorely disappointed.

He chose to continue, however. No point dwelling on it, it might have been a prank, it might have not. He wasn't one to make assumptions right away, and so, "something fun? What did you have in mind?" Whatever it was? Had to be better than sitting on the edge of his bed, thinking about his lack of a social life. It might even turn out to be fun--who knew? He was willing and ready to try whatever the boy had in mind. So long as it didn't involve thievery. If a thief was caught in the Weyr, he might very well be sent back home.

[rii]

Aw, Quintrell lightly pouted, Mihkal didn't even ask if he was okay. The thief did just fall from the top bunk–and it didn't matter that he had done it on purpose. Not like the other boy knew that. Quintrell had long ago perfected his act. Nearly flawless. He was such a 'klutz'. But, those thoughts flew aside, he was not one to linger on a single idea. Deep thoughts? Not this one.

"I'm Quintrell. You can call me Quin, or Trel. My sister would call me Quinny and Trelly when she wanted to annoy me, but it never worked, so whatever you prefer." Cheery and bright, dimples flashing in a broad grin, the thief sat up and seized Mihkals hand and gave a few firm pumps before releasing the limb. No rings, not interesting. He listened to the other's share of information, glad that the candidate kept it short. "Sounds like one big caravan family." Blink, train of thought switched tracks. "I want to find a nest of firelizard eggs to sell."

Of course he didn't mention that his uncle wasn't a mastersmith, nor his father a seller–and his sister couldn't carry a tune to save her life. Lies were much more fun. He nodded in earnest at the fact that Mihkals' boot was unlaced. A finger pointed at the laces for emphasis. Gee the other was giving him a snotty look (in his not so humble opinion). Harumph. "Here, let me tie it for you. Musta not have tied it tight enough." And Quintrell did just that, not waiting for permission. His fingers easily and quickly re-did the laces and he beamed up at Mihkal once finished.

"Anything can be fun. Could go swimming, could go looking for firelizard eggs, could go sneak a peek at the Wher clutch, could go steal people's clothes from the bath houses, could go eat, could go see if one of the dragons will give us a ride, could go watch the weyrlings, could go–"

Someone stop him, he could go on for hours with the random nonesense.