Post by Avu on Oct 1, 2008 16:21:29 GMT -5
They hadn’t gotten the lesson yet? Hmm. She’d thought it was about time that Ferneth had his third lesson, but perhaps that had been slightly postponed due to the uncertainty of the rotation? Meira considered. Yes, that made sense, as Ferneth had pointed out. She nodded slowly. “Well, I guess not…” She shrugged, and the faintest hint of a grin twitched her lip. “And how are chores going?” she asked sweetly. “Lots of fun, I’m sure…” Actually, she brooded, chores weren’t half as bad if you’d someone to talk to, be it Rider, Candidate, Weyrling, or Wherling, or even just a simple Drudge who deigned to chat for a while. The problem was, people didn’t always come to chat—most of the time they avoided you like the plague. As if she’d foist off her job on another person anyway, she thought scornfully.
Ah, unpleasant memories. Meira winced slightly at the frown on the Candidate’s face, although she refrained from commenting. Shards, what had Raila been thinking? Really, she had to agree with C’lryn and Darling on this one: if Raila had tried to touch an egg from Zesa’s (admittedly currently nonexistent) clutch, she would have asked Raila—although probably more politely and more of a query than a command—not to touch. That is, if Zesa didn’t just attack the girl for invading her privacy and that of her clutch. She nodded slowly, reluctantly. “Yes, I know…” She sighed, slightly aggravated at Raila. What had the girl been thinking? To try and touch a fire lizard clutch—not at a Touching either (did fire lizard clutches have Touchings?)—but at the actual Hatching. That was hardly anything an intelligent, well-meaning human would do! …Right?
A more cheerful smile than the sad one that had been on her face before stretched across her face at the mention of the seven-Turn girl in the kitchens. Ah, the girl was sweet, really. Upon seeing Zesa riding Meira’s shoulder when they’d come down for their breakfast (i.e. dinner), she had asked solemnly what the queen’s name was and how old she was—and then fetched the best scraps the kitchen had to offer for Zesa’s dining needs. “I’m sure she’ll attend if she can,” she said lightly. “Zesa would tell her for sure—she’d know firsthand that she’s great at taking care of fire lizards.” She considered Ferneth’s next statement, pressing her lips together in thought. “I can’t really remember much—I mean, I did arrive halfway through and I didn’t look around that much…” Vaguely, she recalled C’lryn waving at her, but she didn’t think she’d responded. “Um, I think…Ceryl, of green Cerysk—she Impressed a bronze. That’s all I know,” she admitted.
“A distraction?” Now she was grinning, amusement clear in her eyes. “Hopefully not.” Meira could just imagine a bunch of idiotic Candidates trying to battle it out with fully-trained Benden Riders and was frankly glad Ferneth didn’t think that highly of his skills yet. She nodded, absently tickling Zesa’s neck as she bit her tongue, trying to figure out exactly what to reply with. “Uu’n thinks they’ll attack at night,” she said finally, completely serious now. “He said as much…Benden, he thinks, I mean; he didn’t mention Fort…” She sighed wearily. “That’s why the Night Watch.” It was a frankly frightening thought when you considered it in that light—an organization of wherhandlers—only a few, perhaps a little less than a full score, trying to hold off Benden Weyr…she drew herself out of the half-depressed state and nodded. “Might be wise…” she said absently, “To—to, you know. Not to bother him too much, especially since you didn’t exactly become fast friends the first meeting…”
Meira blinked at his comment, and her cheeks reddened slightly as she automatically averted her gaze from Ferneth to Zesa—the queen chirped in quiet confusion, nudging her cheek with her vividly gold, triangular head. What was wrong, why was Hers red? She bit her lip, wondering exactly what to say, and then settled for ignoring that part of the statement; instead, she raised her eyebrow, saying lightly, “Well, then—it’s easy to get her to stop, isn’t it? Just flunk a few missions she sends you on, and there—no more; she’ll move on to aggravate someone else, yes?” Here was to hoping that she was nowhere near the kitchens whenever the Wherlingmaster got their chores organized, she thought. She had more than enough to do between tending Meisk, wondering if she ought to help in the infirmary—a Senior Apprentice Healer, it seemed, ought to, and yet she was rather hesitant about volunteering—sating Zesa’s needs, and lessons. It wasn’t much right now, of course; it took only a small portion of her day—but it certainly would be a lot if the headwoman decided to start sending her off on chores again. Meisk, a protector for her? A small smile crossed her face. “You could say that, but it’s more the other way around from what I’ve seen,” she responded lightly, dropping the topic of Derrisk and Derrin.
She grinned slightly at his comment. “Just don’t put on your Gather clothes, and wear what you’re wearing right now,” she suggested, biting back a giggle at the thought of one single person, dressed so casually amongst so many other people fancily garbed. The Gather clothing that had been given to each Candidate was perhaps not the most beautiful of all, but it was much better than the everyday wear. “I’ll just ask Zesa to find you and she’ll get to you quickly enough.” Another smile quirked the corner of her mouth. “All right, then, sounds good…” Dance, though? She swallowed the laughter that threatened. “You’d have to be pretty determined,” she teased. Meira was determined not to dance, after all—she had learned, yes, when she was very young, at Harper and Healer Hall, but that was before her eighth Turn, which was when she’d started learning the most basic Healing, and she’d all but forgotten by now. She cocked her head slightly at the sound of sadness in his voice. “Something wrong?”
Ah, unpleasant memories. Meira winced slightly at the frown on the Candidate’s face, although she refrained from commenting. Shards, what had Raila been thinking? Really, she had to agree with C’lryn and Darling on this one: if Raila had tried to touch an egg from Zesa’s (admittedly currently nonexistent) clutch, she would have asked Raila—although probably more politely and more of a query than a command—not to touch. That is, if Zesa didn’t just attack the girl for invading her privacy and that of her clutch. She nodded slowly, reluctantly. “Yes, I know…” She sighed, slightly aggravated at Raila. What had the girl been thinking? To try and touch a fire lizard clutch—not at a Touching either (did fire lizard clutches have Touchings?)—but at the actual Hatching. That was hardly anything an intelligent, well-meaning human would do! …Right?
A more cheerful smile than the sad one that had been on her face before stretched across her face at the mention of the seven-Turn girl in the kitchens. Ah, the girl was sweet, really. Upon seeing Zesa riding Meira’s shoulder when they’d come down for their breakfast (i.e. dinner), she had asked solemnly what the queen’s name was and how old she was—and then fetched the best scraps the kitchen had to offer for Zesa’s dining needs. “I’m sure she’ll attend if she can,” she said lightly. “Zesa would tell her for sure—she’d know firsthand that she’s great at taking care of fire lizards.” She considered Ferneth’s next statement, pressing her lips together in thought. “I can’t really remember much—I mean, I did arrive halfway through and I didn’t look around that much…” Vaguely, she recalled C’lryn waving at her, but she didn’t think she’d responded. “Um, I think…Ceryl, of green Cerysk—she Impressed a bronze. That’s all I know,” she admitted.
“A distraction?” Now she was grinning, amusement clear in her eyes. “Hopefully not.” Meira could just imagine a bunch of idiotic Candidates trying to battle it out with fully-trained Benden Riders and was frankly glad Ferneth didn’t think that highly of his skills yet. She nodded, absently tickling Zesa’s neck as she bit her tongue, trying to figure out exactly what to reply with. “Uu’n thinks they’ll attack at night,” she said finally, completely serious now. “He said as much…Benden, he thinks, I mean; he didn’t mention Fort…” She sighed wearily. “That’s why the Night Watch.” It was a frankly frightening thought when you considered it in that light—an organization of wherhandlers—only a few, perhaps a little less than a full score, trying to hold off Benden Weyr…she drew herself out of the half-depressed state and nodded. “Might be wise…” she said absently, “To—to, you know. Not to bother him too much, especially since you didn’t exactly become fast friends the first meeting…”
Meira blinked at his comment, and her cheeks reddened slightly as she automatically averted her gaze from Ferneth to Zesa—the queen chirped in quiet confusion, nudging her cheek with her vividly gold, triangular head. What was wrong, why was Hers red? She bit her lip, wondering exactly what to say, and then settled for ignoring that part of the statement; instead, she raised her eyebrow, saying lightly, “Well, then—it’s easy to get her to stop, isn’t it? Just flunk a few missions she sends you on, and there—no more; she’ll move on to aggravate someone else, yes?” Here was to hoping that she was nowhere near the kitchens whenever the Wherlingmaster got their chores organized, she thought. She had more than enough to do between tending Meisk, wondering if she ought to help in the infirmary—a Senior Apprentice Healer, it seemed, ought to, and yet she was rather hesitant about volunteering—sating Zesa’s needs, and lessons. It wasn’t much right now, of course; it took only a small portion of her day—but it certainly would be a lot if the headwoman decided to start sending her off on chores again. Meisk, a protector for her? A small smile crossed her face. “You could say that, but it’s more the other way around from what I’ve seen,” she responded lightly, dropping the topic of Derrisk and Derrin.
She grinned slightly at his comment. “Just don’t put on your Gather clothes, and wear what you’re wearing right now,” she suggested, biting back a giggle at the thought of one single person, dressed so casually amongst so many other people fancily garbed. The Gather clothing that had been given to each Candidate was perhaps not the most beautiful of all, but it was much better than the everyday wear. “I’ll just ask Zesa to find you and she’ll get to you quickly enough.” Another smile quirked the corner of her mouth. “All right, then, sounds good…” Dance, though? She swallowed the laughter that threatened. “You’d have to be pretty determined,” she teased. Meira was determined not to dance, after all—she had learned, yes, when she was very young, at Harper and Healer Hall, but that was before her eighth Turn, which was when she’d started learning the most basic Healing, and she’d all but forgotten by now. She cocked her head slightly at the sound of sadness in his voice. “Something wrong?”