R1: Candidate Lesson 3

[Ruby]

As usual, Kemma was in the classroom several hours before lessons started. Usually she was totally focused on some document, sitting almost perfectly still in her extreme concentration- not today. She was working on something alright, but she was also fighting extreme distraction. It was not easy to focus when she was so worried about this stupid lesson. It wasn't like she was some blushing virgin, or she was doing something wrong- she just didn't like taking away the candidates' blushing virginity, assuming they had it left. It felt wrong to push young people into... relationships they didn't want or need.

But there was no way around it. This was the lesson the Weyr needed her to teach, and she'd teach it. Because she remembered how she had disregarded this exact same information during her own Candidate, and even Weyrling training, and how terrifying her first flight had been as a result. She didn't wish that on anyone.

With a sigh, she dropped her pen, shuffled the hides back into order, and folded her hands over the top of them. It was just Mellith's own (ironically) impending flight that was making her nervous and edgy. This would be fine, everything would be fine. Plus, both Raila and Zolten were Weyrbred- no doubt the two of them were already informed about this sort of thing. Who knew where Mutasim came from, but in Kemma's estimation, there was nothing she could say anyway that would make him do anything he didn't- or did- want to do. Meira... the Wher-candidate was a little bit more enigmatic- once again, Kemma was unsure about her origin, but Meira didn't exactly seem the type to sleep around. It was only the Candidate's reaction to Kemma's urgings that she was unsure about.

Well, no help for any of it now. As soon as her four were here, she'd get started, avoiding as much awkwardness as she could. For the first time in her life Kemma was grateful for her age- at least none of these adolescent boys was near enough to her age that this would be uncomfortable.

[reqqy]

He was - annoyed. The day after his fight with Ka'rys (and he'd somehow managed to get by the Candidatemaster the night before) they had a lesson. His foot wouldn't support him. At all. Nor had he had the time to make himself anything to aid in the process. He'd managed a rather steady limp the night before, even though Savitri needed to reset the bones that had never healed properly, but after sleeping on it the appendage had swollen to the point where just the slightest pressure was enough to nearly make him pass out. Sharding foot. Shard-blasted, paranoid Weyrleader who slept with knives! So what if Mutasim had fought back? If he hadn't, he'd be lying dead somewhere. The man had awoken and tried to gut him.

Well, now he had a bandaged arm because of a minor cut, another cut on his forehead, though he'd removed the gauze this morning because the bleeding had stopped and it really wasn't anything that big. Of course, it was an angry red hue, but he supposed that wasn't quite as blatant as having a bandage on his head. It was definitely the foot that was the problem. No hiding that. He stared at it dismally. The thing was nearly twice the size of his right foot. Still seated on the edge of his bunk, he strongly considered just going back to bed and staying there until the swelling went down enough that he could hobble again. Then he wouldn't have to face Kemma, either. But...this was an open room. She'd hear about it anyway, and he wouldn't be left alone.

Better to just get it sharding overwith.

It was a testament to just how much pain he was in that the boy didn't take the time to arm himself with his usual array of daggers, instead keeping only the three hidden ones on his person. He knew he looked a mess. Disheveled. His trousers were bloody, but he couldn't get them over his foot without cutting them off. Too much effort. Cursing softly, he rose, shakily leaning against the wall, and began to use it for support. That's when he came to the stairs and cursed again. No. It just wasn't happening.

He looked back to his cot, but that, too, seemed awfully far away. Sinking down onto the first step, Mutasim rested his back against the wall of the stairwell and closed his eyes. Here was fine. He'd just...wait here until he could gather the energy to move back along the wall again. There was no possible way for him to get down those stairs on his own without putting any weight on his left foot, which was sure to result in a tumble and likely more broken bones. It just wasn't worth it.

[Avu]

Candidate lessons again. Meira hadn’t ever minded the lessons, carefully remembering the knowledge in case of future need, but she still was a bit wary about going this time specifically. Certain rumors had been spread among Drudges, probably by other loose-tongued Candidates, perhaps by Weyrlings, that made the northern girl rather uncomfortable. But those were just stupid rumors, right? Nothing serious. Nothing to be worried about…she took a breath as she dawdled just inside of the Candidate Barrack doors. What on Pern was she nervous of? With a slight shake, she shook off the feelings and started down the stairs.

Only to spot Mutasim, looking as if someone had just chewed him up and spat him back out. She backtracked, eyes widening in slight shock at his appearance. Just in time for Candidate lessons, right? She coughed politely, just so she wouldn’t shock him and possibly have him hurt himself in surprise. It happened.

Lessons could wait, if for a while. She frowned anxiously at Mutasim, wondering how he’d so much as gotten dressed by himself. “What happened?” Her voice cracked in surprise at the last note. He definitely hadn’t been so mauled when she’d last seen him…which hadn’t been that long ago. Right? Okay, forget ‘what happened’. “Look, do you want me to help you back to your cot?” she asked, her voice businesslike. “There’s no way you can attend lessons like that. I’ll explain it to Kemma if you want.”

He looked like he needed it.

[randi]

Lesson, lesson, lesson, another batch of information he'd heard before, another bit of time to be lost. Nevertheless, he supposed he needed to go. Time had gotten away with him, Zolten distracted by a dozen things, and so he had bolted to the barracks, intent on not being late.

Yet, as he rushed in, he became aware that someone was talking. Skidding to a halt, literally, he glanced up the staircase. Meira was the one talking, yet to Mutasim. Owch. He looked fairly roughed up, didn't he? Hearing Meira's inquiry of what had happened, a brief frown flashed over his face as he gave his head a small shake. Whatever the other had been up to wasn't any of her business, now was it?

However, the offer to take Mutasim back to his cot didn't seem ideal, at least not from his own perspective if he'd been in the other's shoes. Being left Standing that many times, any chance at failing, a missed lesson, missed chores, again should be cut out. A sympathetic half-smile crossed his face as he ascended the stairs, his head shaking slightly.

"He can go if he still wants," that was Mutasim's choice. He had, by his being on the stairwell as an indication, intended to go despite appearances, which should be all well and dandy. "Kemma's not going to tell him to get out because he's a little bloody," though if she was that faint-hearted, it might be good for a few inward chuckles. "I'll help you," his dark eyes turned to Mutasim, "if you want." His gaze flickered to Meira, "No sense in you getting dirty too."

[reqqy]

Looking up at the cough, Mutasim stared at Meira for the longest time, no show of warmth in his eyes whatsoever. It seemed more as if he were evaluating her, sizing her up and seeing if she was an enemy or not. He hated being weak. He also hated being seen that way, as it opened him up to all manner of unsavory things, not the least of which being another attack. It took quite a bit of effort for the boy to force himself to remember that this was Selenitas, not Bitra. Most people weren't going to take advantage of his present state to steal his clothes or whatever else he might have that could make it so they'd survive another day. Not Bitra. Still, he couldn't tell her that he'd gotten into a knife fight with the Weyrleader. That just...wasn't an option. It wasn't that he was afraid of being barred from the Sands. He strongly suspected that if it became common knowledge that he not only broke the rules, but with the ranking bronzerider, Selenitas would eject him. It was the only thing standing between him and his enemy.

And yes, Mutasim was very fortunate that Ka'rys's pride seemed to prevent the man from making the event public knowledge himself. You couldn't tell by looking at the pair of them, but the fight had ended in Muta's favor. Not something most bronzerider's were willing to admit.

Although he'd been determined to return to the cot, that had been without Meira as part of the equation. If she was willing to help him across the room...then maybe she'd also be willing to help him down the stairs. He could manage that much. A small, bitter smile touched his lips. "She doesn't know," he stated. To him, that was answer enough. Mutasim would rather be down at the lesson, and give her one less reason to tear him to shreds. Fighting was against the rules. He didn't think self-defense was, but he couldn't very well just come out and tell her that Ka'rys had tried to stab him. For one thing, that just sounded like an elaborate lie. Who would believe that the small Weyrleader simply got it into his head to attack a candidate? Or that Mutasim had somehow survived the encounter if it'd happened?

The young man noticed movement, his dark eyes flashing toward the only other male in their candidate rotation this time around. He didn't really know Zolten much at all. In fact, if the much taller boy hadn't been saying things that might end where Mutasim wanted them to end, he might have attempted to threaten this other candidate into backing off. All males were suspect. Particularly those taller than him. Which...yes, that was pretty much all males.

He thought for a moment. Zolten or Meira? He trusted Meira more. On the other hand, there was no guarantee that Zolten would allow Meira to help Mutasim back to his cot, either, so one led where he wanted to go, one didn't, and both had the potential of being rather unpleasant for the smallest of the gathered candidates. That made the decision fairly easy. Mutasim nodded slowly, pushing himself up the wall with no regard for any help the other two might have offered. "I can't put any weight on it," he explained quietly, inwardly wincing at the admission. His left foot was painful enough his teeth hurt. That was definitely a new one.

He met Zolten's gaze - much as it bothered him to look up at someone like that - and forced himself to reach out and touch the other candidate with his left hand. If he was getting down this stairwell, they would have to be pressed against each other, and he wanted to occupy his uninjured arm to prevent any subconscious twitches. He could do this. Z'hin was a man, and a large one. Zolten wasn't as large. Yes, he could do this and not freak himself out. Just, one breath, one step...at a time, and it should work. "Thanks," he murmured, including both candidates in the speaking of that single word. Meeting Zolten's gaze, he nodded again, waiting for the other to make the first move and sincerely wishing Savitri were here. Now that was someone he could have felt relatively secure with. Meira, too, but she simply didn't understand, and Savitri was built more solidly.

[Avu]

To be certain, Meira was slightly surprised and a bit alarmed at the look Mutasim had given her. Hadn’t they met just a while before? Talked? Well, she countered the surprised thoughts that flickered through her mind, he didn’t look as if he was in the greatest condition. Surely that gave him reason to be a bit unsocial? She stared back, her chin lifting automatically under his gaze. When he finally spoke, she paused. “She—?” She being Kemma? Well, it did look rather as if he’d gotten into a fight, and by what she’d seen of both Kemma and Mutasim, Meira could bet there was no way anyone would believe that Mutasim had fallen down the stairs or something else stupid that a Weyrbrat might do.

Biting her lip indecisively, Meira was about to do something when a movement caught her eye; she turned instinctively, blinking as she took in the other Candidate who approached. “Yes, I guess it is,” she agreed uncertainly. “Fighting is against the rules, though. Maybe Kemma wouldn’t throw him out, but he can get in trouble.” Not that boys seemed to much care about that anyway. “No sense in you getting dirty, too.” Meira shrugged. “I’m not afraid of getting ‘dirty’,” she replied, a bit testily.

Even so, she was relieved when Mutasim decided to let the other Candidate, who must be Zolten, help him instead. He was stronger, no doubt, and even though Meira wasn’t exactly weak, she still would probably end up jarring his leg at times. “I’ll go ahead and tell the Candidatemaster you’re both coming,” she murmured quietly, deciding it’d probably be the best thing. “So she won’t mark you down as absent or anything.”

Leaving hastily, she trotted down the stairs, keeping up the pace until she was in front of the room in which lessons took place. Pushing the door open, she entered quietly, unobtrusively, but to her surprise, only Kemma and herself seemed to be there. How quaint. She would’ve thought Raila was there…dismissing it, Meira stifled her impulse to remain unobtrusive and just sit down, and approached the Candidatemaster. “Please,” she said hesitantly. “Mutasim got hurt—I don’t know when…but, um, he’s on his way. Zolten, too. So they might be a bit late…” She faltered, aware that she had probably let herself in to be questioned.

Ah, well.

[Ruby]

Raila

As was now usual for her, Raila had spent far longer than necessary picking out what to wear to lesson. It was one of the only times she could pretty much count on not getting so she focused all the time she usually spent on her appearance into this one spesific moment. She knew she would be late, but... well, she was having a bad hair day, and as far as she was concerned, that was simply unacceptable.

Once she entered the stairwell, though, she was fairly certain she wasn't the only one who was running late. Voices floated up to her, ones she quickly identified as her fellow rotation students. What were they doing moving so slowly? Raila picked up her pace, catching up to Mutasim and Zolten as soon as she hit the boy's floor. She saw Meira dissapear around the corner at the bottom, too, looking like she was the only one who'd be vaguely on time. She opened her mouth to greet Zolten at least (Mutasim was clearly not worthy of tht sort of courtesy), but slammed it shut on a further examination of the boys in question.

Mutasim looked like he'd been attacked by a wild Wherry or something. Make that a Wher. He looked awful. Knowing what she knew of Mutasim, though, Raila guessed the little upstart had gotten into a fight. What a dimglow, particularly after Kemma's warnings against exactly this! Once again, Raila started to speak, this time intending to upbraid the stupid little brat- and then she realized something. It would gall him so much more to have her be helpful to him. So what she had originally intended as a scathing comment came out sweet and concerned instead, without even a touch of sarcasm or annoyance. "Oh Faranth, Mutasim! What did you do to yourself? Do you want me to fetch a healer?"

Excellent.

Kemma

Kemma was considering heading into the barracks to see where on Pern her candidates had gotten to when she heard voices on the stairs. At least they were on their way, although it seemed to be taking forever for them to actually appear. Maybe it was just Kemma's own impatience coloring her experiance of the passage of time- she wanted this over with. But no, no one seemed headed closer, and the classroom was too far away for her to be able to make out what they were saying. She was seconds from leaving her seat when Meira showed, looking worried.

The Candidatemaster did, in fact, leave her chair when Meira approached the desk, walking around to the side so she felt less authoritative and intimidating, at least to herself. Either way, this way she could talk to Meira without the desk in between them. "What's going on?" she asked, trying to sound both stern and comforting, but before she had finished Meira had begun. Kemma raised her eyebrows when the candidate reported that Mutasim had 'gotten hurt'... that she doubted. Not the hurt part, but the gotten. She'd been told that Mutasim had been caught fighting before, but she wouldn't make any judgements before she saw the damage. Maybe he had just fallen down and twisted his ankle.

With a sigh, Kemma turned her attention back to Meira. "Well, if they're on their way anyway, go ahead and tell them to take their time. I won't start without them, and as you can see, it's not like we're waiting on anyone. I'll wait here in case Raila shows up, and you can head back whenever you're ready," she said, trying to keep any annoyance out of her voice. It wasn't Meira's fault, after all. Shards, it wasn't even Mutasim's fault, even if he'd been fighting. Kemma was just in a rare bad mood.

[randi]

He seemed to have gained Mutasim's attention, which was a grand thing. Zolten had respect for the other boy, if, for no other reason, that he had Stood as often as he had and still continued to. Accepting failure and moving on was somewhat of a specialty he had developed over the years, but someone willing to butt heads with it had the candidate's attention.

Meira speaking drew his attention again, a shrug passing over his shoulders. "Fight? I didn't see a fight. It's not against the rules to slip over some rocks, is it?" He gave a small playful wink, unsure if the excuse would work or not. Muta wouldn't be the first person to fall on the slippery rocks, and, if Kemma started asking questions, it was better than telling a blatant truth and getting in trouble wasn't it. His comment that she shouldn't get dirty seemed to get under her skin a little bit, and he snorted inaudibly. Some girls just couldn't take people being nice to them, could they?

Meeting Muta's eyes chilled him somewhat, but he was comfortable that he had been proven useful for something. He took a quick glance at his foot, wincing slightly before nodding, a determined smile on his face. "We'll get you down." He moved to help the other candidate, muttering a "You're welcome," to the thanks, but refusing to make a big show out of it. Slowly, he aided Muta down the stairs, making sure with each step that the other boy could handle it, though he was sure he could.

Raila's voice distracted him for a moment, his head turning to glance at her. Sycophant was the word that immediately leapt to mind as she expressed her concern, and it was out of sympathy for the other that he shook his head. "Come on and get to lesson. He has a firelizard," he was happy at remembering that little tidbit, "if he needs someone to get a Healer."

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he paused for a moment. "Still want my help?" It was better not to say 'need'. Need made him sounds like he was pleased to be relied on. Want implied that the boy was capable, as Zolten had little doubt he was, of hobbling in there himself, though the sight of Muta hopping on one leg, while amusing, would probably not be best for the other candidate.

[reqqy]

"Already got in trouble," Mutasim grumbled darkly, though he flashed a quirky smile at Meira - or, rather, it looked more like a smirk than a smile, but it was his usual expression. He wasn't sure about anyone else, but he definitely considered a man trying to gut him 'in trouble.' He actually chuckled a little at Zolten's comment, though. Well, he hadn't been punched or kicked or anything. They were all knife wounds, with the exception of the foot, and just might be misconstrued as cuts from jagged rocks. Possibly. The abrasion along his left ear might make that seem a little more likely. In the end, it was definitely more likely to be believed than the truth, and he had no doubt Ka'rys would deny the event entirely, if only because Mutasim had both pricked his pride and offended him afterwards. Well, shardit, he didn't really care. The Weyrleader was tainted by the south, whether he wanted to admit that fact or not.

"That might actually work," Mutasim stated, still amused, before reaching out to touch Meira lightly on her arm. "It's okay. He's bigger." The young man nodded as she said she'd go on ahead, glad to be left - mostly - alone to the problem of getting down the stairs. Strangely enough, being so close to Zolten didn't bother him nearly as much as he thought it would. Maybe it was because the pain was really distracting him right about now, and he was concentrating on both keeping his foot from hitting the stairs and from making it too akward for the other candidate helping him along.

He cursed at the sound of her voice. Muta simply couldn't help himself. Raila. Wonderful. The candidate seriously contemplated what would be more painful, hopping up and down on his broken foot or listening to another word from her. Probably the foot, but at least with that one he could pass out and be done with it. Glancing over his shoulder, he jabbed a finger at his forehead with its set of angry stitches. "And no, I didn't do that myself." Just in case she was too stupid to realize that stitching up your own forehead was a rather difficult endeavor. He let Zolten handle the rest, silently grateful to the boy for at least attempting to get rid of Raila for him. Mutasim knew that the girl didn't care about him at all - they'd gotten off on the wrong foot, and even if they hadn't, Raila was not the sort of person that he would ever like. Nor did he tend to be secretive about his dislikes.

He should have put more numbweed on his foot, possibly, but he didn't have a ton of it, and it had to last for both forehead and foot for a sevenday. Plus Muta tended to believe that pain wasn't such a bad thing, as it told you what you should and shouldn't be doing. Slathering himself up to the point of complete numbness - which he wasn't even sure was possible with this sort of injury - wouldn't be doing him much good. He'd just be walking on a foot that shouldn't be taking weight.

Considering Zolten's question for a moment, part of Mutasim didn't want to be helped any further than he could manage on his own. Another part, though, regarded the distance from the stairs to the door, thought of inching along the wall, and definitely balked. He was already holding everyone up, and he didn't like to be the center of attention. Much as it might seem otherwise. "If you don't mind," he replied, surprisingly gracious about it rather than bitter. In the end, Mutasim didn't like being vulnerable, but he'd never been a particularly prideful person - at least since arriving at Selenitas. He took a moment just to lean against the taller boy.

By the time they got into the classroom and Mutasim managed to sprawl into a seat, he was tired and hurting and generally just grateful he'd made it at all. He cast a weary smile at both Meira and Zolten, rubbing at his forehead before he caught himself and forced his hand back down. The idea of getting back up the stairs after the lesson was over was almost enough to make him groan. Hopefully the subject material would be interesting enough to distract from the throbbing pain in his foot, and would last - long enough for him to contemplate moving again. Mutasim didn't say anything to the Candidatemaster. If she wanted to disturb her own lesson over his condition, that was her decision, but he would much rather save that for later. There was absolutely no doubt that the questions would be coming.

Sooner or later.

[Avu]

Meira had mentally braced herself for either a severe questioning, a suspicious glare, or something. Her ‘something’ did not generally include a resigned shooing. Well, that was all right then. Mumbling something that sounded like assent, she backed out of the room again, wondering if she should be pleased or startled that Kemma seemed to show little surprise at her news.

She shrugged it off. People were weird. That was their problem, not hers. Trotting quickly, tracing her route backwards, until she met Mutasim and Zolten, making their way towards the lessons. She fell into step alongside them, her pale eyes automatically settling on Mutasim. It was his foot, not Zolten’s, even if the other boy was helping him along.

“She doesn’t seem too fussed,” she commented without any more introduction. It should be only too obvious who ‘she’ was. “Just told me come back and tell you to take your time, since nobody else’s there yet. She won’t start without you.” A crooked smile pulled at one side of her mouth. “She’s probably going to faint when she sees you, though. I don’t think I made it sound like you were hurt as badly as this.”

Well, at least it might be vaguely amusing?

[Ruby]

Raila
Well, OBVIOUSLY if Raila was behind Mutasim, there was no way on Pern she could have seen that his forehead was stitched up. Until he turned around to tell her off, of course. Especially since the way he was limping made it look like someone had smashed every bone in his foot. CLEARLY she was remiss in thinking he might need a healer. Resisting the urge to make a snarky comment or simply tap him on the forehead so he fell down the stairs, Raila widened her eyes at seeing his face, doing a very passable imitation of someone who actually cared. Of course, it wasn't Mutasim she answered, but Zolten, ignoring the fact that Mutasim had spoken altogether. "Oh, I'd forgotten he had a flit," she said, which was actually true. She had forgotten. Not likely of course that the thing was civilized enough to summon a healer on its own.

She quickly banished mental images of Jabari sitting calmly in the classroom, and slid past Zolten as the boys paused on the stairs, her hand accidentally brushing the outside of his thigh. Once again, she kept her face impassive as she imagined Zolten just letting go of Mutasim, and watching the other boy crumple to the ground. That one wasn't actually as satisfying- it wasn't like Raila actually wished injury on the boy, it was just nice to see that apparently he was getting a taste of his own medicine for once.

She almost tripped over Meira coming around the bottom of the stairs, but danced away at the last moment, going around the corner as she heard the Wher candidate report. Raila had been a little miffed ever since she noticed Mutasim being vaguely genial to Meira- it felt like betrayl to Raila, but to be totally fair, she knew Meira didn't know how awful Mutasim really was. So she smiled at her classmate, raising a hand in greeting before dissapearing through the door and taking one of the end seats in the little row of four Kemma had set up.

[Ruby]

Kemma
Finally, they started coming. Well, Raila at least. Kemma was still standing next to her desk where Meira had left her, arms crossed, contemplating. Then the rest of them straggled in, and the Candidatemaster's eyes widened. No fainting, though. Kemma was a pretty tough piece of work when it came to injuries, although it might not look it- being a for six years came with its fun little perks. As the group got settled, she went around her desk and sat, sighing slightly before folding her hands before her, a very stern and un-Kemma look on her face.

"I'll just remind you all that injured candidates are absolutely not allowed to stand, ever. Mutasim, you'll need clearance from a healer, approved by me, before you may stand for any other clutch. I'm not joking about this- if the clutchmother doesn't eat you for thinking that your clearly imperfect body is good enough for her perfect babies, Mellith will." She left it at that. A fair punishment, she thought- breaking rules meant no standing until the rules were no longer broken. It wasn't like he should get extra chores with that foot- especially since there WAS no proof that he'd been fighting, except for what looked like knife wounds. But Kemma was all for benefit of the doubt, innocent until proven guilty. He'd be treated like he fell unless she heard otherwise. "I'll have Mellith take you back upstairs after class, Mutasim, and then you may arrange for a healer to examine you, with me in attendance. I will adjust your duties and requirements as the healer sees fit."

Lesson 3
Well, they'd better get started. Kemma certainly didn't want Mutasim fainting from the pain or anything during class, as unlikely as that seemed. "Moving on. Welcome to lesson 3, everyone. You might notice that I'm in a bit of a foul mood today. That is related to Mellith being proddy- getting ready to Rise, for those of you that don't know. It is similar to what happens before Whers run, and human females have their monthlies- some women become extra flirty, trying to attract attention of men or women depending on preferance, and so do most dragons. Many women also get irritable, which is more like me and Mellith, so you'll just have to put up with us this time.

"This is ironically timed for this lesson- Flights, Runs, and sex in and around the Weyr. You'll learn all about the dragon and wher end if and when you impress. This lesson is about Matings and candidacy."

She paused and sighed, getting up to pace the back of the room. This was far from Kemma's favorite subject. "So, how does a dragon's mating flight or a wher's run relate to you all. Those of you from Weyrs will have already experianced the extreme power of a Goldflight, and will know the answer. Anyone past puberty in the Weyr, Impressed or not, is affected by the extreme... lust, and loss of self that comes along with a Queen flight. For the non-Impressed, that is just a fraction of what you will feel when your own Bonded rises to mate. However, it is still plenty intense- enough to make you grab the person next to you, whoever they are, and perform sexual acts right there in public. I am to stress to you that for Weyr life, this is NORMAL. You will see nakedness and sexual acts during the Matings of any female color, whether or not it affects you. There is no rationality about matings, for those that are bonded. There is no choice. There is only chase. If you don't like that idea, or can't handle it, I'd say drop out of candidacy and move to a Hold now.

"Most of you have a Weyr background, I believe, or have been around them long enough that I don't need to go into that any further, I don't think. So the other part of this lesson: Virginity. It is a bad thing. If you have not lost it yet, get on it, so to speak." She had to smother a snicker- it was just such a stupid way to phrase that particular instruction. Oh well. "Young dragons will be traumatized by sex, and so until they themselves are mature, it is off-limits. When they are mature, there is no more time- you will lose it during a first flight, at least for the riders of females. Males will lose it the first time their male chases, be it with the female's rider, or with some unfortunate Lower Caverns person who is in the area. Keep in mind- this lower caverns person could be you. I would not suggest the Flightrooms as a place to hang out, unless you want your first experiance of sex to be terrifying, and most likely painful.

"Speaking of painful- it will hurt the first time, for the women at least. This will worry your dragon, especially during their own first flights. The men will probably be so confused and distraught that they, too, will cause their bondeds stress on a day that should be triumphant- the Bonded's coming of age. So, if it is at all possible, lose it before you next stand. I know some of you may already have, and some of you may not feel ready to take that step- I hate to push you into something you aren't ready for, but if I don't, Impressing will. Keep that in mind, I suppose."

Kemma turned to face her class, stopping her pacing. "That's all for today. No homework, unless you count losing whatever virginity you might have left," she joked, her mouth quirking up in a rather wicked smile. "Oh, but Raila and Meira- be safe, girls. Remember that anyone who is pregnant will not be allowed to Stand. If anyone has any questions, you may ask me in private in total confidence. Your fellow candidates, especially the older ones, might even be more... ahem... helpful than I."

Rounding the desk, her eyes rolled back for a second as she asked Mellith to come in. The green clambered through the extra-large window Kemma had had installed, and filled most of the back of the classroom, looking angry. "Zolten, would you help Mutasim over to Mellith's front feet? She'll lift you onto her back so you don't have to put any weight on that foot," Kemma added, shifting her attention from Zolten to Mutasim as she spoke. She wouldn't insist on this, of course, but it didn't look like the candidate could make it back up the stairs, Zolten or no.

[Ruby]

((lesson up))

[Avu]

Slipping into her seat, Meira pressed her fingers together, adopting a position that seemed more scholarly than a disorganized muddle. The beginning of the lesson was not very promising, and it steadily worsened. The girl’s face was emotionless by the time Kemma was halfway. She was mentally reeling. Were they being ASKED to bed someone just for lessons? And what if they did get pregnant? They couldn’t help it if they did…

She bit her lip hard, but managed to keep from doing anything stupid and rash. The Candidatemaster’s words resounded in her mind. If you don’t like that idea, or can’t handle it, I’d say drop out of Candidacy and move to a Hold now. Okay, fine. This would be just fine. She’d just fine a bed-partner and…and…loose her virginity. How beautiful. Her hand flicked automatically to the place where she normally carried a knife, but she’d left it back in the Barracks and her reach melt only her hip.

A wry humor rose up, stifling any hysteria Meira might have suffered. What a wonderful conversation that would be. So. I’m a Candidate. And I’ve been told to go and loose my virginity. So, want to find a bed? Wow…that was just…so incredibly stupid and…Meira found herself staring at the desk as if trying to carve a hole into it with her gaze.

Great.

Just great.

[randi]

The reappearance of Meira made his head lift to her, nodding slightly at her comment. Kemma might pitch a fit, but even Mutasim said the falling excuse might work, and that might smooth out her feathers some. "Thanks for telling her why we're late," Zolten was sure, however, that she wasn't going to start the lesson with half the class missing. Not for a few more minutes, in any case.

He was aware of Raila's touching, and it took a lot of his will power to keep from laughing at it. Accident or no, which he didn't think it was, she seemed to think it would have effect on him. Zolten liked her, to a certain extent, yes, but he wasn't about to be a slobbering footstool for anyone who dared to think that people who Impressed golds were without faults and counted themselves among that number.

Was it just him or did Mutasim seem not angry at him for being his crutch? He had expected disdain in some form from the male candidate, but the lack of that rocked him the slightest bit. He let Mutasim lean against him for the moment, eyes flickering to the smaller boy. When they arrived in the class, he took a seat beside the other, because it was the closest and because he wanted to make silly faces at Kemma if she so much as glared at the other.

The comment about Mutasim not being able to stand while injured did shake him slightly, as he had forgotten about that, but dismissed it almost instantly. If the boy wasn't on the sands, he could be in the stands. His dragon wouldn't pass him up so long as he was present, white robes or no. And what was the queen going to do then, be angry with her child for Impressing to someone who was hurt? Not likely, he thought. Mentally, he tucked away the notion that, if Mutasim couldn't stand, Zolten would at least get him a ringside seat. There was no sense in making a hatchling trek through the spectators.

The lesson was one Zolten knew, and he was, once again bored throughout the most of it. He did feel sympathy for the girl candidates who were still virgins, but the conversation that it might entail made him laugh on the inside, his dark eyes closing to keep it from spilling out, which was hard.

Once it was over, he stood, prepared to help Mutasim back up the stairs, having forgotten that Mellith was going to ferry him. Kemma's speaking to him made his head lift, meeting her eyes with a nod, though a glance back at the green made him bite his lower lip to keep himself from getting in trouble by asking if the green was planning on eating Mutasim. Proddy girls, he didn't want to get in trouble with proddy girls, no no no.

Turning towards Mutasim, he offered his hand to help him up, switching from chewing on his lip to biting his tongue. A dead Zolten couldn't Stand, and a dead Zolten was more useless than a live Zolten. A live Zolten was made dead by poking fun at females, yes he was.