candidate lesson 1

[Avu]

Dignity. Take care; they will be watching, taking their cues and pushing your weaknesses; they will demand respect before they give it. Remember to balance and watch them as well; look at their eyes, windows of the soul, conveyer of dreams they cannot yet give voice to. Watch out for them, curl around them and protect them. They are yours to teach; yours to mold into something bigger and better and brighter; yours to keep safe; yours to love. They are yours as much as anything can possibly be yours. They are yours as much as I am.

I don’t…want them, Ka’aen answered slowly, looking at the motley gang of Candidates before him. He had dutifully posted up lesson notices a week ago, had Rhiiseth alert them to its beginning a day ago, and had managed to schedule it at a halfway decent time—late enough in the mornings that people who wanted to sleep in had had their chance, early enough that it wouldn’t push back into their lunch, because Faranth knew he wasn’t going to miss lunch for this. The bluerider was sitting at his desk, not slouched but not poker-straight, his face a mixture of curiosity and bemusement. He’d actually had the lesson all planned out and everything, but he hadn’t really realized how different the span of ages was. Twelve to twenty-two, all of them stuck together in a blender and spat back out into the desks in front of him.

A lovely image, to be sure. His gaze flicked towards the window, where Rhiiseth was somewhere in the great beyond, glanced at the door again. The trickle of people had entirely stopped, so after another moment of letting the Candidates situate themselves, he casually rose to his feet to go close the door against latecomers (he’d be having a word with them about timing if they decided to show up late and knock, unless they had a legitimate excuse) before turning to look at the class before him, gaze skipping over the unfamiliar faces for a brief moment. Then, “Hey. If you’re not here as a Candidate, you’re in the wrong place.”

When nobody went magenta and bolted for the door, he continued, “I’m Ka’aen—I ride Rhiiseth. He’s a blue. I’m twenty-five years old, have been teaching for exactly not at all, and was born in Benden Weyr.” Maybe they’d hate him. Maybe they would. That wasn’t important, remember? He moved slowly back towards the desk, talking as he went, meaningless things that popped into his head, “I’m lazy; I like to sleep in, which is why you weren’t all woken up at the crack of dawn for lessons. Plus, I like breakfast before I try to think too hard. I hate the idea of lectures; I’d rather do something interesting.” He dropped back into his chair.

“The amount of time you will be spending in this classroom listening to me talk is basically going to be the bare minimum, as long as you cooperate and act like future dragonriders and wherhandlers instead of kids. If you can’t handle that, I’ll switch to lectures. What I do say, I’d appreciate it you listened to.” He glanced around at them again, shrugged one shoulder. “We’ll actually get started in a minute. Go around the room—stand up, tell us all your name, whether you’re Standing for whers, dragons, both, how old you are, how long you’ve been at the Weyr, and something you’ve learned at the Weyr. Can be serious, can be a total joke—that’s up to you.” He inclined his head at one of Candidates at random. “Go.”

[hrsegrl]

The Candidate Master was a diligent man, no one had any excuse to not show up to lessons on time. He himself made quite certain he had time for lessons. Despite having been a Candidate for the majority of his teenage Turns, it seemed he still had a lot to learn about becoming a dragonrider. It was not that he was incapable of impressing a dragon. He was quite capable, he was incapable of keeping his dragon.

So the point of standing again was? Denvaril sighed to himself the arguing in his head seemed only to get worse the more he thought about the events which occurred. While every day he went through the motions of being himself he was never going to be the same person he was before. No matter how much time passed, which was why he was standing. He needed to believe that life could get better.

This morning he had to do some chores before coming to lessons, which was no surprise seeing as most people had something to do in the morning. Still he had found time to get everything done and arrive to lessons on time. Denvaril was greeted by the Candidate Master who seemed to be making sure that everyone who was there was supposed to be there. He wondered if Faolan and Porita were there, as he found himself a seat. He did not notice either of them yet but he was certain they would be along eventually. Perhaps they would decide to sit nearby. He found even acquaintances could help settle his nerves.

Being around a bunch of happy Candidates, made him frown slightly. He used to be that happy and unconcerned with anything but impressing a dragon. Now one had to worry about the dragon being taken away should you impress. Denvaril settled down his crazy, depressing thoughts just before the Candidate Master began to speak.

The man was honest, they had to give him that. While he was not particularly fond of the thought he was from Benden he knew better than to lump everyone into the same group just because of where they were from. He found the man to be quite refreshing. No lectures meant he might actually enjoy lessons. Denvaril was not a little kid either, nor did he act like one so the warning was not quite necessary, still he supposed that it was better to get that out there as a threat to the younger ones.

Should he go first? No reason why he should not. Other than the reality that crowds troubled him now. He hoped he was strong enough not to look like a mumbling dimglow when he did speak. Denvaril looked around a moment, stood a little shakily and cleared his throat. After choosing a spot on the wall to look at, in order to avoid eye contact with anyone, he began to speak in a strong, slightly shaky voice.

“My name is Denvaril. I'm a seventeen Turn old, dragon Candidate. I was born here at Selenitas Weyr.” He paused hoping his voice was not as shaky as it felt. He did not think anyone really cared but he had to finish didn't he? “And the most important thing I've learned at the Weyr is to persevere.” Though he did not add, because even the things most dear to your heart will be stripped from you, there was bitterness in his voice. Denvaril did not like revealing the parts of himself that were not strong. His mental state was certainly far from it. So he sat back down, still looking straight ahead at a tiny spot on the wall.

[Requiem]

Faolan was on time. Barely, granted, and by the nervous way he stepped into the room, wringing his hands slowly in front of him, it was more than clear that it had been a close battle. The decision to show up at all. The dragonless probably could have easily gotten permission to skip lessons; he'd gone through them a little over ten turns ago, after all, and had been a rider more than long enough - at this Weyr, in fact - to know most anything the CandidateMaster was likely to teach. But then he'd have to talk to someone about...everything. So naturally it never happened.

The slender man glanced around quickly before taking a seat near Denvaril, hunching slim shoulders and clasping his hands tightly in his lap. He kept his eyes centered on the desk in front of him. Faolan really didn't want to be here. Memories were bubbling up. Why couldn't they separate the wher candidates from the dragon ones? There really were not enough similarities between the two to warrant a joint class, and he doubted that this - bluerider - knew much about the whers.

Faolan's voice followed Denvaril's. To get it over with. There was no semblance of force behind the words and when he stood his eyes remained focused on a point along the floor in front of him. "Faolan. I..." Couldn't really deliberately omit something that had been asked for. "Was here. Three times before over the last ten turns. Twenty-six." Yes, older than their teacher. His eyes skittered up toward Ka'aen briefly then lowered again. "Wher." Of course. Too old for dragons. "Um. Everything changes. I guess."

The man was all too relieved to sit down again, though he nearly jumped out of his skin when the small boy brushed against him and very obviously snuch a hand into his pocket. But Faolan had nothing to steal.

Armind pulled a face. Boring. His small chin rose and he seated himself on the desk in front of Faolan. The master of all thieves would certainly find something worth stealing soon enough. Not standing, he kicked his legs idly. "I'm Armind. I don't keep track of how long I've been here. For dragons. Obviously." Then the boy smiled at Ka'aen. "Cooties are real. They can turn you into a girl and make you Impress gold." Yes. That was what he'd learned.

...

[Ruby]

Lessons again. Hinsero didn't grumble or complain at repeating the first lesson over - everyone he'd known in his old class had impressed or left, so if he was going to have any friends (besides Porita, he was tentatively counting her as one) in this set, lessons were a good way to meet them. Not to mention he'd heard that the curriculum had changed, so perhaps this would cover new information. Either way, he appeared on time, smile on his face and Heart tucked into his shirt pocket.

He'd had to rearrange his infirmary schedule - 8am to 12pm had lessons smack in the middle of it - but that had been easy enough. He was swapping with a non-candidate on the days where his Candidate duties took precedence. He had a vague flash of horror while he slid into a seat diagonally behind Armind. What if the Hatching happened while he was on shift in the infirmary? Certainly someone had considered this, but Hinsero was still a little uncomfortable. Maybe Candidates shouldn't be allowed in the Infirmary after all.

Ka'aen was given the kind of half-attentive slump Hinsero had adopted here, but the Candidate spent much of the short introduction looking past the Bluerider's head, counting flecks in the wall. It wasn't meant as an affront to Ka'aen, Hinsero simply paid better attention when he looked like he was half-daydreaming. It was a nice change from stricter Wasteland to be able to get away with it here. When Denvaril started to speak, though, Hinsero adjusted a little, paying more attention to his fellow candidates. He was here to meet them after all, wasn't he?

Denvaril, one of the candidates who had lost their dragons at the last Hatching. Hinsero's eyes searched, of their own accord, for Porita's, to offer a gentle little smile if he caught hers. This must be absolute torture for those that were stripped of their dragons, perhaps never to impress again. Although... if rumor was to be believed, re-impressions had happened in the past. Hinsero's train of thought was interrupted by Faolan, and he had to smile. So he wasn't the oldest after all, even if Hinsero looked quite a bit more manly than the willowy Wher candidate. Armind was no surprise, although his 'what I learned at the Weyr' made Hinsero chuckle aloud. Leave it to the kid to change the somber tone of the lesson so far.

Hinsero stood, but only because he'd been directly asked to. Otherwise he would have been happy to stay seated. "I'm Hinsero. I'm 21, and I'll be standing for both dragons and whers, but I'll be 22 in April. Um..." This wasn't exactly the time for questions, but he figured he'd clarify. "If I can continue to stand for dragons until I'm 23 I will, otherwise it's Whers for me. I've been at Selenitas for six months, but I was at Wasteland Weyr for near a turn and a half before that." He tried not to shoot a look at Ka'aen - it had been his own choice to answer the question that way, after all - but Hinsero was a fairly straightforward man, and he wasn't about to skirt the truth of where he came from. Pressing on, he added, "And I've learned how to cliff-dive." Where was M'ze when he needed him?

[Tashe]

If anything made Zemaren happy it was being able to have time to play a few songs on his Violin before lessons started. Why he was even attending the lessons were beyond him... call it fate! Call it destiny! Whatever the shards it was, it had brought him here on the wings of a Green Dragon. Interrupting his cushy position at Hyphen for being groomed to be a Rider or a Handler, whichever came first he supposed. Pushing the rim of his slim cap back from his eyes as the majority of the candidates circulated through the room Zemaren let his eyes flicker from one face unto another, tracing their features before ignoring them completely. Flexing his ankles he rocked himself slowly in the chair, his boots propped solidly on the desk before him. Ugh. Learning. He'd had enough Turns of it already at the Harper Hall, it wasn't fair that he had to go through more of it because a stupid Dragon told him he was 'compatible' or whatever. Crossing his arms, the Harper removed his feet from the desk when the candidatemaster started speaking.

Hmm. Introductions. How fun. At least the Cadidatemaster didn't seem half bad. Zemaren, although predominately Fortian in allegiance, tended to swing for the "I don't give a blasting shard" about origin. He was a Harper and therefore, supposed to be Neutral. Well... at least he viewed it that way. Farnath only knows how many of his brethren took sides with a passion, even when they weren't supposed to. Zemaren shifted his gaze from Ka'aen to Denvaril as the boy stood up, his eyebrow twitched slightly before he looked down and started to clean his nails. He was a master at the illusion of ignoring people, he prided himself in that regard. Next was Faolan, Armind (probably the youngest of them all), and then Hinsero. What a sorted lot they were. Picking a piece of white fuzz off of his black vest, he glanced up when no one else spoke up. He waited a few seconds before rocking to his feet. Apparently it was his turn, or, at least he was going to volunteer.

He gave a short, mock bow to the class over his desk before placing his hands on the desk. "I am Zemaren. I am in my twentieth Turn of life. I was hijacked from my Harper position at Hyphen Hold to be a Candidate, but I have no preference to speak of. Either - or I suppose, each has their charm... And their faults. I was born at Telgar Hold, lived at the Harper Hall in Fort Hold, and I've been in the South for nine months, but at Selenitas for only... what is it now, three months?" He flicked a hand in the air. "As for what I've learned... Its not always the strength that matters, but the ideas behind them. Or something like that. Actually I just made that up. What I've actually learned was that the Selenitas Drumheights have beautiful harmonic resonance." Zemaren nodded before sitting down and crossing one leg lazily over the other, returning to his previous state. He examined his fingernails intently as he waited for the next person to purge themselves of trivial information.

[Rowana]

Porita slipped into the room as quiet as possible. She was trying not to be noticed and stayed in the far back of the room as the others took their seats. She stayed still as a stone, eyes tracing floor around her chair instead of her Candidate Master. It would be rude to meet his eyes, women didn't do that. She listened politely to the lesson, wondering why she had even come. Being a candidate again had seemed the only thing to do at the time, but did she really believe she could Impress again? Did she even want to?

Her eyes glanced around the room, briefly catching Hinsero's smile. Her eyes lifted a little and she gave a tiny smile in return. At least someone was happy to see her. Faolan was here too, and Denvaril. She recalled their lunch together while she listened to them talk. It seemed an ago she'd come here, was it really only a few months? She knew she would have to speak too, eventually. She didn't dare disobey Ka'aen. Yet she couldn't possibly go before the boys, that would be horribly rude of her.

Finally, it looked like she wasn't going to just get out of it. Porita swallowed hard, tugged at her scarf, mustard yellow today, and stood. "Porita," she managed, in a small, weak voice. Her eyes drifted to the floor and she turned pink. Speaking in public, even such a small group, was much harder than she thought. "Nineteen turns." Had she really had a turnday that recently? Time since the hatching had passed like mud and rain all at once. "Both." If anything bothered to come near her again, she didn't care what it was. "I've been here about six months. I learned..." What? That they'll kill hatchlings that don't meet their standards? That she might have been better off dead in the jungle? "Um...I learned...that healers need to know sewing too," she let out in a rush.

Porita turned a darker shade of pink and sat down hurriedly. She had to stop herself from bolting from the room. Surly they must think her such a fool for speaking that way and in front of men too!

[Avu]

He had to remember these names.

Denvaril, the persevere guy. Faolan (changes) and Armind (cooties) would be easier to remember; the oldest and youngest respectively. Even if it would definitely be more than a little bit awkward trying to teach someone who was already older than he was. Hinsero he knew—Wasteland Candidate as he was, and not unlikeable, but hey, cliff-diving. Learned something new about everyone. And then Zemaren (possibly insane Harper, resonance in Drumheights—what?) and the one girl who had bothered to show up. Porita. Who—Ka’aen couldn’t help the bemused look that crossed his face at her nervousness. There was probably a metaphorical question mark hovering over his head. Couldn’t help it; he’d always viewed Candidates as at least a little more comfortable in their own skin. Porita—forever immortalized in his mind as ‘shy’.

Not inaccurate, probably. Ka’aen nodded at her as she drew to a close, clapping his hands together in a deliberately abrupt motion to hopefully take the other Candidates’ attention away from Porita, on the assumption that they were being even minimally polite and looking at her while she was speaking, and said, “So. I hope you got all those names—these people are essentially going to be your family until you Impress, and some even past then. Try not to wage war on each other, the Candidate Barracks doesn’t need to turn into a battlefield.” A brief smile. “Since you all have been here for a decent amount of time—assuming,” he added with a quirked eyebrow in Armind’s direction, “That you didn’t decide to stop keeping track the minute you got here, I’m going to skip the Weyr layout and rank stuff.”

Come on, really. Nobody wanted to be taken on a tour of the Weyr and nobody wanted to hear that they were about as low in rank as you could get until some dragon or wher took pity on them and decided to boost them up to possibly the second-lowest. How cheerful was that?

Actually, he’d been planning something—scavenger hunt or something, Ka’aen didn’t really know—but he was more than happy to skip the first lesson if it was going to be unnecessary and move straight to the second. Dragon anatomy, hmm. How fortunate that he had a Rhiiseth. “So. To Rhiiseth. Don’t get too excited,” he added dryly, gesturing for the Candidates to exit the room and mentally beckoning for Rhiiseth to meet them outside, “And don’t be surprised if he talks to you and doesn’t make sense. I promise he’s not insane most of the time.” Hurry up, he added to Rhiiseth, felt the blue stir like silk against his mind, a brief flash of amusement.

So shy the mice, he commented pleasantly. Do they fear the darkness? Fortunately a private comment, the blue’s tones deceptively light-hearted, because Ka’aen was not entirely sure Porita would not bolt if Rhiiseth decided to bespeak her. Where oh where had all the backbone gone.

Once they’d all gotten outside and Rhiiseth had sprawled contentedly in front of them, peering down at the gaggle of Candidates, Ka’aen pointed up at him. “This is a dragon. If anyone’s unaware of that, they can leave now.” A casual quip, Rhiiseth rumbling overhead and blinking blue-green eyes regally down at them—not above flaunting his superiority. “This particular dragon is blue; his name’s Rhiiseth. He’s a brat and a half, and you all can basically ignore him; all you have to know that this,” he pointed up, “Is his head; this is a neck, shoulders, forelegs, torso, hind-legs, tail. Wings. Don’t start memorizing bones unless you want to be a dragonhealer. In which case, more power to you. Still, not necessary.”

He gestured at the straps that he had yet to remove from Rhiiseth. It had mostly been so he didn’t have to take them off and put them back on again but since they were convenient…“Porita, Denvaril, Faolan,” he said, selecting them at random, “Go ahead and try and get the straps off Rhii. He’ll move however you tell him to. Work together. If someone already knows how they work, great. If you don’t, just try not to shred them. Once they’re done, Zemaren, Hinsero, Armind, I want you to try to get them back on right—together. Choose a leader among yourselves if you need to, whatever.” Ka’aen waved one hand—a ‘go’ gesture. The activity probably wouldn’t be much fun unless they made it fun (but hey, they had a gloomy class, Armind being the exception—he didn’t really have much hope for that), but at least he’d get to see who stepped up as leader, if any of them did, how they interacted, if they interacted.

And they’d get to know each other. Worked for him.

[metaldawn71]

Kalaht was late to class. He abhorred people and being around them just made him annoyed. He wasn't one to socialize but i guess it was important so that he could possibly Impress. He was sitting down in the back, silently. His arms were crossed and he had a sour look on his face. He stood up and told the group.

"I am Kalaht. I am here to Impress a wher. I guess I've learned that everything is not always what they seem." and he sat back down. He mumbled something about not wanting to be there.

Kalaht was a tough cookie to crack. He had been through a lot with his brother and his mother possibly dead by the same man? It was a lot to take in. Still, he was not ready to tell them anything yet. The memories haunted him at night as well as during the day. This all happened 2 Turns ago and he was still upset and trying to cope with it, alone.

Others that have seen Kalaht's behavior could sense that there was something more other than what he led on.

[Tashe]

Mmm. Family. Yes, that's all he needed. Back at Telgar he could barely stand being around his rambunctious brothers so being around a bunch of strangers, adding them as kith and kin... not exactly what he wanted from his Candidate experience thanks. Whatever. Technically, as long as he wasn't complained about, he didn't actually have to like or be liked by any of the others. Digging in his pocket as he vaguely listened to Ka'aen speak, Zemaren pulled out a pebble he'd found earlier that morning. It was completely smooth on one side and rounded on the other, as if a tiny egg had been cut in half by a knife. And other than its shape it was entirely boring looking at, it was the common grey color that could be found in the southern regions, probably washed down stream by the river. Bouncing it in his hand, the Candidate flicked his blues up toward their Master when he mentioned something about Dragons.

Pushing his seat back, Zemaren stood and followed the others outside, playing with a small wooden disk he had exchanged for the pebble. Using only his joints, the Harper lazily walked the disk back and forth across the tops of his fingers. It was a limbering exercise that had become a habit for the boy, often times he wouldn't know that he was playing with it unless it was mentioned or the motion caught his eye. When everyone was settled out and Rhiiseth had made himself comfortable, Zemaren stood quietly with his arms crossed, the disk still traveling across his knuckles but now on the opposite hand. Eyes glanced upward when the Blue rumbled and he gave a little bow of his head, the motion of his fingers paused until Ka'aen started to speak again. He was actually interested now.

The Harper looked at it like this: 1) The lessons could give him better insight into the workings and minds of Dragons or therein hatchings. Which would lead to interesting music, 2) Being around Dragons is kind of cool, and 3) Learning a little about the largest creatures on Pern probably wasn't too bad of an idea. Therefore, overall, the Candidatemaster warranted at the very least... most of his attention. Too bad. Putting the disk away when they were given instructions for an activity, Zemaren glanced at the people who'd been paired with him. Not bad, he supposed. At least they didn't have that one girl... what was her name, Porita?... he had mixed feelings about that one, he did. The Journeyman shrugged before speaking to his team mates. "I'm up for whatever. Though... I suggest that since we're working together that when they start taking it off, each one of us watches from a different angle. Left, right and in front. Just memorize the order in which the straps come off." He shifted his gaze to Rhiiseth, watching the blue until his attention was either called back by his group or was detoured to the other team if they started taking the straps off.

[Requiem]

While Faolan shadowed Ka'aen, torn between obeying and bolting and settling on using the candidatemaster as a shield between him and the dragon, Armind lingered behind out of curiosity. A boy had wandered into the room after everyone left. Not only had he done that, but he'd apparently decided to talk to the wall. Armind stuck his head back in the room. "Psht! Is Kalaht another way to say retarded? There's no one in there anymore, numbskull. Who you talking to, the empty desks?" The youngest of the candidates huffed and grabbed the boy's arm, tugging him out toward where the rest of the candidates were. "Here. Stand next to me. You'll make me look good."

Faolan was doing a fair job of hiding behind Ka'aen. Unfortunately, that might have been why he was called out first. The man stared at the bluerider pleadingly. Don't...make him do that. In his first sign of any rebellion whatsoever, the man muttered, "I'm a wher candidate. What have we to do with dragons?" He was mildly comfortable - comparatively speaking - with Denvaril and Porita, but...they were dragonless, too. They could hardly be much more willing to touch that blue than Faolan was.

Perhaps it was that which kept him from fleeing. The ingrained obedience, maybe. Or possibly just some well-hidden streak of obstinance, not wanting to give Ka'aen anything. It didn't keep him from trembling at the thought of touching that hide, though. Well. There was another way, wasn't there. "Just...do what I tell you," Faolan stated quietly to Porita and Denvaril, his eyes darting nervously toward Ka'aen. He couldn't touch that blue. Simply couldn't.

Faolan's instructions came quickly, sending the other two candidates in a scramble over the dragon if they chose to follow them. One thing was pretty clear, though. Timid mannerisms or no, the eldest of the candidates had dealt with straps many times before. There was no hesitation or uncertainty in the directions. Perhaps it was unfair of him, just a little, to make the others touch Rhiiseth and not him, but he hoped the quickness of the whole process would make up a little for his selfishness.

Now, Armind was bright enough to pick up that the girly-looking man (probably had been around girls too much, yet another victim of cooties) had some experience with this. It simply didn't interest him. Neither did the process of straps. How hard could it really be? The boy wrinkled his nose at Zemaren. "I'm sure the great harper who notices the resawhatsit from the drumtowers can remember all the steps for us. Bossypants." The child glanced at Hinsero, looking for an ally...but he was too man-sized and serious-looking.

The youngest of the candidates made a face. Yeah, stick him with these ones. Thanks a lot.

[metaldawn71]

Kalaht sighed heavily at his stupidity. Of course, being dragged by the arm outside wasn't exactly polite but in -his- experience nobody was so he was used to being pushed and shoved around.

"I am not a retard! I'm new so I didn't know where the class was. Somebody told me that this class was here and -not- outside. So if you want to call someone a retard, call whoever -told- me one and not -me!-" He glared at Armind as he yanked his arm from the other boy's grasp. Kalaht looked at him with a hard stare when he mentioned that Kalaht would make him look good. "Why do you have to be so rude to me? I have done nothing wrong, other than act like a total fool! So, yeah. sounded like a retard. Big classes such as this one is make me nervous. I'm not used to being around large crowds." He said after he calmed down a bit. Great! First day and he just -had- to act like a total dimglow! What's next?

Kalaht said nothing after that. To anyone. After all, why should he? He already made a first impression as a bungling idiot! He could not do anything right. His eyes lowered to the ground, sighed, sat down and tried to hide his face. He was ashamed at what had happened just moments before but he didn't cry. He only sighed heavily.

[InsaneWhitey28]

Well, wasn't she just absolutely and fantastically late. Just what she needed for the first candidate lesson, being late and having someone keep on eye on her. Neugh. Being late ended up labeling someone, like sticking a huge sign on their forehead like, 'Possible trouble maker: Watch carefully.' Though personally she wasn't denying it, it was annoying to be watched. But then again maybe she was readying too much into it and it would slip the candidate master's mind at some point, who ever he was. Why was she late? Because she had been sleeping. Curse her late night excursions. Grumbling to herself, and checking her hands for the umpteenth time for any trace of pink that had soaked through the gloves that were now ashes, Rosanna turned the corner toward the classroom just as the group left it. Grumbling turned to a low snarl, though it faded to a purr as she realized maybe, just maybe she could slip into the back of the class and be unnoticed. Mahogany hair in a thick braid today, her normal ribbons absent, Rosa quickened her pace to catch up with the group, keeping her booted feet as quiet as possible. Almost, almost. Yes, she just successfully merged with the back part of the group! Wait... there was only one other girl candidate... Great.

Life, I hate you. Rosanna growled to herself, very conscious that she had just added an extra girl to the group. When the group reached the outdoors, the blue sprawled out in front of him, the lesson continued and somewhere along the way Rosanna realized they had introduced themselves to each other. Neugh. Now she stood out even more! Well, fine. She'd take whatever talking to the candidate master gave her with whatever scrap of dignity she had left, after all she probably had gotten worse in the Craft Hall. She'd certainly get worse from Z'ves when he found out who had done that to his room. Just thinking about it brought a small smirk twitching at her lips, though it faded quickly as fear took satisfactions place. It had been far too close of a call, and she had run with the brush in hand before thinking. Oh, yes she'd certainly get a talking to from him. If he could find her. The small smirk returned to the corner of her lips, though she made it disappear as her eyes locked on the candidate master, lifting her chin as the others set to work, she watched the process intently, though it was interesting to watch Armind make a face for some reason. Could he get along with no one? That was her ultimate question about the boy, but then she was somewhat the same way. Whatever, she digressed.

[Rowana]

Relieved to have attention back on Ka'aen and not her. She started to relax, content to sit and listen to the rest of the lesson. That was, until he announced they were going outside to see his dragon. Porita stood automatically and followed the others, even as her heart raced. She hadn't been close to another dragon since the Hatching. Now she would truly find out if being a candidate again was even possible for her. If not, then maybe she could still help out with chores. She didn't have anywhere else to go.

Porita had been working hard to not look too closely at Rhiiseth when Ka'aen called her name. She paled at his words. True, she'd met both Faolon and Denvaril before and she didn't mind working with them. Yet to actually touch a dragon, one the same color as her dear Jipth. Porita's feet rooted to spot. She couldn't disobey the Candidate Master, but how could she even get close to Rhiiseth. It was Faolon who convinced her not to give up and run. Years of life in the North had trained her to obey men at all times, and more importantly, she could see in his eyes that his pain ran even deeper than hers.

Shaking her head, Porita moved forward stiffly. Faolon thankfully knew what he was doing and Porita was good at following instructions. With Denvaril's help, this wouldn't be too hard. Porita worked in a daze, trying hard not to think about the past and focus on the present. Rhiiseth was full grown and darker than her Jipth, so it wasn't so bad if she didn't think about it too much. When she was done, Porita stepped back with a breath of relief. She smiled weakly to Faolon and Denvaril. She'd done it.