Lesson 1

[dragon]

Everything was ready for the first round of lessons ... the Searchriders had been busy since the hatching. At first Emoyan had feared he'd have a nearly non existant class. Now he had to opposite problem ... maybe too many candidates? He didn't know if he could make that many youngsters stay in line long enough for a class. He might have to bust them up into smaller groups for lessons. But for now he was willing to give them the benifit of the doubt.

He'd already posted a warning the day before to the candidates about there being lessons today, and at what time. So in the classroom he waited for them to appear, fully expecting them all to show. After all, lessons were mandatory prior to Impression ... and these kids were all here because they chose to come after being searched. Implying that they wanted to Impress. Which, to Emoyan, implied that they were going to do what it took to get there. It was time to get them started being ready for the next Hatching!

---

Anusha
Anzalorin
Chehero
Kaerlin
Mairen
Meradyr
Merridan
Nephele
Nautic
Pasine (Excused)
Rusahre
Tanyl
Zanalorin

[Rowana]

Class at last! Merridan had been growing tired of the endless chores and routine. Even if classes were boring at leat they would be different. She trotted down the stairs, muttering to Auran as she went. "You be good now. No getting into fights or pestering the teacher." Auran rumbled moodily. He could be good. It was everyone else who was disruptive.

Mer came down into the common room and waved to Emoyan. She knew he had recently lost his dragon, so she vowed to try her best to be respectful and polite. "Morning, Candidate Master," she greeted. She glanced around. Was she the first one here? She took a seat and waited, feet shifting in anticipation. She was looking forward to this. Maybe if she knew more about dragons, one would be more inclined to choose her at the next hatching.

[Tashe]

Uuup~ Uploveface. Uuuup~ "Nyaaahmn." He mumbled and flipped over, curling deeper into his sheets. Uuuup. Uplovelyfaaace. "Five... more minutes..." UPLOVEFACENOW. Groaning, Nautic shifted onto his back and squinted up at the swaying Green Mandyr. She had gotten into the booze already... great. Uuup love. Prettyface. Cloudteach. "You make... no sense." He sat up with a yawn and began to rub the sleep from his eyes. "Faranath. What time is it?" Swinging his legs off the side of his bunk, Nautic turned over and slid down to the edge of the bottom bunk so he hop to the floor. It felt too early to be up, but then again the curtains had been drawn and the room was still dark. Crossing the dorm, the young man opened the curtains slightly and winced, not expecting the light that filtered through. He waited a few moment before wrenching the curtains all the way open, letting Rukbat's ray's filter into the room. "Guys... I think there's a lesson today." His voice showed no enthusiasm at all, which was a surprising change in pace for the Whercandidate. He didn't want to go to Lessons... he really didn't want to go at all.

Trudging back over to his bunk, Nautic itched the side of his head with another yawn. It had been a while since the last lessons, and now there was a new Candidatemaster. Now he'd have to test the boundaries all over again, it wasn't something he was terribly looking forward to. Opening his trunk, the young man sifted through his articles of clothing, pulling out a powder blue tunic and a pair of dark brown trousers. It took a few moments to get dressed, but he eventually was able to finish his outfit by tightening his belt and pulling on his boots. Looovelyface uup fast. Cloudlesson. Clooudrock. "Uhuh." Glancing up at the railing of his bed where his Mandyr was perched precariously on the edge, the young man ran a comb through his extraordinarily messy hair in the attempt to tame it.

Tossing the comb back into his trunk, Nautic climbed on top of it and grabbed Absinthe before hopping down and heading toward the door. On the way, he snagged a earing and poked it through the hole in the lobe of his ear. Wiggling his fingers at his Darter, the Wher Candidate left the room with a backward glance. "C'mon boys."

---

Passing through the doorway to the "lesson room", Nautic covered a yawn before picking out a seat near the window. He bobbed his head slightly to Emoyan as he shuffled by, almost dislodging Absinthe who had taken up residence in his hair. After waving to Merridan he dropped down into his seat. Stretching out over his chair, the blond slumped so that his head rested on his chest. He really didn't see the need for him to be there.

[glamourie]

“Come onnnn,” Anz pleaded, tugging on Zanalorin’s arm. “You have to come. I want to see who all will be Standing with us and plus, this is the perfect opportunity to scope out who’s available. You know. Available. You can’t honestly intend to miss this?”

Okay. Lessons weren’t appealing. They didn’t strike Anzalorin as much more pleasurable than he was sure Zan found them. However, they were a necessity in order to be able to stand. Unless specifically entitled to do so by the riders of the parent-dragons, candidates couldn’t stand without permission from the candidate master, which meant skipping was not an option. Being who he was, Anz decided to make the best of the occasion by dressing up in a pair of pants describable only as yellow, with white edging down the sides. His shirt was white, with yellow ruffles down the front. Altogether it was definitely a very strange outfit, but Anz himself was strange. He didn’t like dark colors. The more vibrant and pretty, the better. He’d sometimes go as far as greens or pale blues, but… bright yellow and orange were his favorites, always. A nice little blinding ray of sunshine, he was.

After he dressed, he’d had a long debate with Zan on whether or not to come. When debating didn’t seem to be working in his favor, he broke out the cheating techniques by grabbing his brother by the wrist and pulling while making up every excuse he could possibly think of, and attempting to be as cute as possible. When in doubt, break out the adorable routine. It usually worked in his favor… except with women, who had a tendency to smack him for it. Who knew? But Zan wasn’t female and it usually worked with him. Barring verbal attempts to convince him, he’d just haul his sibling forcibly. He wasn’t that weak… really!

“I heard the candidate master used to be a blue rider. I think blue riders are usually at least bisexual. Maybe he can give you some tips. Zaaaan, Zaaaaan, come oooon….”

Reaching the stairs, Anz practically pranced down them. He stopped to look over his shoulder at his brother and gave one last pleading look before barreling down into the common room. His boots clattered audibly as he went, and when he reached the first floor, he scampered over to one of the chairs and threw himself over it languidly. There wasn’t any seating assignment, he hoped, since the meeting wasn’t scheduled in an official classroom of any kind. Then again, if there was, he wasn’t sitting properly - not with his legs sprawled over the arm of the chair. Oh well. He hoped he didn’t get into trouble if he was misbehaving. Anz didn’t like trouble at all.

[Sheari]

One bleary eye cracked open as Anusha began the process of waking up. The air felt cold to her and the furs were so, so warm. Like anyone would do a chilly morning when they were still a little tired, she rolled over and closed her eyes. It was a balancing act for her now. She knew she had to do something. Just what exactly it was she couldn't remember. She had just settled in, what could be so pressing for her to need to wake up and such an hour? Nothing came to mind and she began the slow drift into the lovely stage of sleeping in. Then it hit her like a bag of firestone.

Class!

Anusha threw her furs from her body and nearly off the bunk. Forgetting she was on a top bunk she rolled right from it. Saving her nose from being broken by a sudden impulse to catch herself. In the process she managed to cut her hand and scratch her wrist. She rose to her feet and sat the vacant bottom bunk. "Okay, calm down. Just tie something to it, get dressed and run for your life because you just might be late," she told herself. Opening her trunk she grabbed an old linen shirt and ripped a strip from the bottom. She then proceeded to wrap it around her hand and tie a loose knot on it with her teeth. It was a crude bandage but would have to do.

Grabbing a fresh cream-coloured tunic and clean pair of green pants she deftly dressed herself and straightened her hair with a comb. Opening the door to the girls' room she ran down the stairs, doing her best to keep from falling face flat on the wood. On the bottom step she sat down to catch her breath. Once her throat stopped hurting and her lungs stopped labouring she stood up, and walked into the common room. Only three other candidates sat in chairs with the candidate master standing front and center in the room.

"Good morning," she said with a polite and pleasant voice. A small smile was on her face as she strode to a seat and sat down as though her hand hadn't at all bred through the crude bandage on it. She carefully turned it palm-up so she wouldn't stain anything. Oh the things people would say when they found out there was blood on the table in the first candidate lesson. She chuckled silently to herself before shifting her gaze up to get a better look at who was all in the class

[hseru]

Zan had rolled his eyes so many times in the past five minutes that he likely would need a rest just to recuperate from the excessive use. Anzalorin just wouldn’t let it be about the candidacy lessons. Yeah, he’d seen the notice about it, but that didn’t mean he had any intention of actually going. Of course, as soon as he’d made that sentiment known, Anz launched in on him, insisting that they had to go if they wanted to Stand and that he wanted to see the other candidates. Zanalorin had to admit, he was eager to see the other youngsters he’d be hanging around too. He’d just gotten out of Blossom though, and everything that entailed, only to find that the Weyr and candidacy was just as much work, and now there’d be training to boot. At least he was away from the old life, as he was starting to refer to it.

Zan sat on his bed as Anz really went to work on him, and by the end, he was just about ready to do anything to just make him stop talking and let go of his arm. “Alright, alright, shards, I’ll go.” He said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Just stop acting like a girl. It’s lame.” As if just to spite the sheer brilliance of the clothing worn by his brother, he intentionally dressed in black and dark blue, a color that he knew set off his eyes and also matched his dolphineer belt and dagger, an item he wanted to show off. Even if he was daring Anz to complain about his attire, he wasn’t about to dress messily just to show him he didn’t care. There were going to be potential lovers there, and if anything, he wanted to look his best. Maybe he’d find someone to cozen up to during class. The idea had him smirking in anticipation. And what was this about a former bluerider for their master?

Before he could question further, Anzalorin flounced down the stairs and into the common room, leaving Zan nothing to do but follow at a more sedate, dignified pace, at least to his way of thinking. He was disappointed to find that there was only one other male candidate to watch his grand entrance, but not disappointed in his prospects. That one by the window wasn’t bad looking at all, and the older man could only be the candidate master. His gaze passed over the females almost like they weren’t there, though he filed the information away for possible future entertainments. He followed Anzalorin without thinking, and took a seat next to him, slouching in much the same way minus his legs slung over the arm. He turned his bright gaze from those already present, to the stairs leading back up, a smirk still on his face. What a perfect opportunity to get a good eyeful of everyone from an angle that revealed quite a bit.

[Avu]

It was very, very tempting to skip.

Not because Rusahre had anything against lessons – but mostly because of the fact that he’d been a Candidate for four Turns previous to his arrival, he’d shared a weyr with a greenrider – he was pretty sure he didn’t need to go to lessons, strictly speaking; he could probably spit out everything that the Candidatemaster was going to teach anyway. But that would require an explanation and Rusahre would rather sit and be bored than be interrogated about anything, especially by a Candidatemaster that he didn’t know and didn’t really need or want to know. So he’d ended up deciding to go; it wasn’t like he knew where he was supposed to be doing chores, or had anything to do in the tiny little cramped bunk space anyway. Rusahre dropped his legs from his half-curled position on the end of his bunk; he’d been leaning against a pillow, absently polishing one of his dirks; the other one was lying on the bed. Normally, he didn’t obsessively clean them, but after being positively attacked by a half-nude greenrider ten minutes into Selenitas, he figured it was probably safer to make sure people knew that, yes, he did have knives.

And then people had started leaving, and he’d remembered the lesson, and had a little mental debate with himself about whether or not he ought to go. Eventually, Rusahre had decided to go, and he’d rolled off his bed, collecting both dirks on the way and sliding them into their respective sheaths: one in his right boot, the other at his waist, and then started for the lessons place. Honestly? He didn’t know where to go; he still hadn’t gotten the entire layout of Selenitas down in his mind yet – he was just following the two in front of him – Rusahre hadn’t actually gotten around to introducing himself to anyone yet (being attacked by the first person that you addressed had that effect on a person), so he didn’t know their names: He just knew they were Candidates and probably were heading for the Lesson.

As it turned out, they were.

Sliding into the room, Rusahre lowered his head automatically, letting his hair fall across his face to obscure his features. It wasn’t shyness; Rusahre did have a level of arrogance – and some of that emerged in a vanity. He didn’t want to parade around how he looked, though, until he figured out who was who, and who had a chance of recognizing where he actually came from. He’d said Southern Hold, for the official Candidate papers. He didn’t really expect many people to believe that for too long, though, assuming he managed to bump into someone who knew what the Lord Holder of Nerat looked like. Hmm. Rusahre glanced around, and then rapidly moved to the very back, taking a seat and then stretching backwards, though he kept his head tilted deliberately forwards as he studied Emoyan curiously, interlacing his fingers across his stomach absently.

If only there were tiles on the ceiling; then he could have counted them.

[dragon]

One, two, three, four, five ... six. Six candidates showed up for lessons? Out of how many? Thirteen? That was horribly pathetic. Horribly so. Emoyan stood in perfect silence as the children arrived and plopped themselves down wherever they would. And then he waited a few moments more to see if anyone else was coming. When it became evident that no one was, he moved.

Nodding a welcome to Merridan, he went over to Nautic and hauled the lad up out of his chair. Taking him closer to the actual class area, he dropped him into a seat. "Sit up and pay attention." He said, sternly, as he moved on. His next move was to sweep Anzalorin's legs off the arm of the chair and seize him and Zanalorin both by an ear each to haul them upright in thier seats. "These lessons are the start of the rest of your life, and you need to learn them well." He continued, still in the same, calm voice as if nothing at all was amiss. Onward he moved.

Rusahre was afforded the exact same treatment as all the other lads – hauled up out of his chair and moved to a more central place, where he was dumped. Also having been prodded into a proper seating arrangement within the confines of the chair. He fully intended to have a proper class, and he fully intended them to pay attention. Not sit there and pick their nails or oogle each other.

Emoyan nodded a return greeting to Anusha, before noticing that her hand was crudely bandaged and bleeding. "What happened to your hand?" He asked, with genuine concern. "Never mind ... run go get that looked at by a healer. We'll wait for you. You don't need to be getting an infection. But hurry." He directed her back toward the door, before returning to his place where he had been standing before, watching the rest of them… it would give the laggards a second chance to arrive on time, too. Though he wasn't inclined to hand out many of those.

[Tashe]

That cloud... looked like a tunnelsnake. Crossing his legs, Nautic yawned and rubbed at the corner of his eye, he was having such a wonderful time watching the clouds roll by. Shards, he was bored already and the class hadn't even started yet. At least he had Absinthe, who had taken it upon herself to start playing with his earing, batting it back and forth as if it was the greatest game in the world. Funfun. Cloudstonefun. Fun. Funloveface. Well... maybe even Absinthe wouldn't be able to distract him from the uninteresting. He didn't notice Emoyan's approach, so the grab came as a total surprise. Dragged out of his seat, Nautic made a noise and proclaimed something along the lines of 'how rude' and 'why I never' but both were uttered more in shock. "Hey. Ow... now theres no reason to get physical. Let gooo." Sitting down with a thump in his new seat, the Wher Candidate made a face at the retreating Candidatemaster.

Patting his shoulder to find his Mandyr missing, Nautic promptly got up and wondered back over to where he had been sitting before. Absinthe had fallen off, the completely plastered Mandyr not having the best balance in the world, and was laying on her back on the floor. Stone... stoooone. Cloud. Guh... Stooping over, he collected his Green and languidly made his way back over to the chair Emoyan had so roughly set him in, just in time to see him repeat the process with the rest of the males in the class. He made sure Absinthe was alright before sitting down again and placing her back on his shoulder. Clearly, beyond a shadow of a doubt, this meant war. It was only the first lesson and the ex-Bluerider had already dug himself a hole which would soon be filled with paste and other unkindly things. Like tacks. Or itching powder. Or maybe even tacks covered in itching powder that were glued to a chair in which Emoyan would sit. He liked that idea...

Leaning back in his chair, just to spite the Candidatemaster, Nautic retrieved a hairpin from his pocket and proceeded to clean his nails with one of the ends, occasionally looking up toward the front of the class. He crossed his legs with a sigh, now he was just restless, having so many things he wanted to do to the Candidatemaster and yet not able to do them. He supposed he should listen to whatever Emoyan was going to say... but he couldn't promise that he'd remain concentrated on his lecture. There was a better chance that he'd just stare at the back of another boy's head... or play with a scrap of paper to amuse his little green fairy.

[glamourie]

“OW!”

The sudden pressure at his ear made Anz positively squall in pain (he was prone to whining) as he was hauled upward. He flopped back in his seat and reached one hand up to rub his ear nervously. How was he supposed to know where and how to sit? They weren’t told in advance. Why did nothing at Selenitas Weyr come with an instruction manual? The urge to whine was almost overwhelming. Anz prevented it by sitting quietly and rubbing the bottom of his ear, which stung something awful. How was he supposed to pay attention when he was practically being assaulted? Slouching into his chair, his hand dropped away and he afforded the injured girl a scowl that would have made most people flinch. It was definitely not a nice look in the least. To her back he mouthed Instructor’s Pet and he hunched his shoulders, his gaze fixing on Emoyan. The entire posture was defensive and downright sulky, but then, who wouldn’t be sulky after being forcefully yanked upward against his will by his bleedin’ ear?!

Wrapping his arms around his chest, Anz crinkled his nose and glanced over at one of his classmates. He was… picking his nails. Blinking, Anz quirked an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side before smiling his amusement. Then his left hand shot into the air and he turned to look straight at the teacher again. He waited only a heartbeat (in case the man wanted to call on him) and then decided to speak - whether he was prompted or not. No one ever said he was a patient sort (which he was, but his ear hurt!).

“You know, sir, maybe it’s because I’m hold bred, but simply asking us to go to certain seats, or putting up instructions on what you want, would’ve gotten us sitting where you wanted just fine. I know I didn’t take a seat in the middle because I thought you might have been alphabetizing or something and I don’t know anybody else’s name,” he explained, then dropped his hand to drum his fingers on the arm of the chair. “You also didn’t have to grab my ear, I would’ve sat up when everyone arrived without that... Now I’ve got a sore ear, and it’s hard to focus, so I’m not really sure what you were trying to accomplish -- but I don’t think you’ve done it proper…”

Without waiting for a response, he turned back to look at the boy picking his nails, squirmed, and wondered: what exactly was that lizard thing on his shoulder? He wanted one. It was cute… in an odd sort of way… like a deformed fire lizard. A casual glance was shot toward Zan, as though his brother could explain his unasked question. Maybe he knew what the little critter was? He’d ask after the lesson, yes. It was cute… perching on his shoulder that way. Very cute. Though, maybe it wasn’t appropriate to bring a pet to the lesson…

[Avu]

Maybe he could count…hmm. He’d count the number of times he wanted to hit his head against the desk out of sheer boredom. Rusahre was betting that that number would be very, very high. The Candidate kept his head down, his hair falling in a curtain in front of his face and eyes – and then – what the – ? His eyes widened, though the gesture would undoubtedly go unnoticed, one eyebrow arching in a mixture of surprise and amusement, as the Candidatemaster…jerked a boy out of his seat and more or less hauled him to the front of the room, positively dropping him into his seat – and then moved on to the next pair of boys. Rusahre was not stupid; he’d undoubtedly be next, sprawled in the very back as he was, and for a second, he wavered: Leave? Stay? Hnn. It wouldn’t like he’d be missing anything, and people might take it badly if he panicked and jabbed the Candidatemaster in the stomach with his elbow or something – Rusahre had spent four Turns learning how to defend himself from being…hurt, after all. He inhaled, and then gritted his teeth against the wave of resentment towards the Candidatemaster.

He actually stood up as soon as he felt Emoyan grab him, and the desire to jerk free was nearly overwhelming – Rusa was mad. Wasn’t Selenitas supposed to be completely soft? Judging by the reactions of his classmates – one of them, the one with the strange mutant firelizard pet thing was cleaning out his nails, and the other one was…babbling about seating arrangements – they hadn’t taken kindly to it either; Rusahre moved numbly, ignoring the pain and then sat himself down, instantly sprawling back into the same indolent position he’d assumed last time. His hair still concealed his face, and Rusa blew at it. Maybe he’d just spend the entire Candidate lesson doing that. Puff. Puff. As soon as Anzalorin stopped talking, Rusahre tilted his head sideways, one eyebrow rising as he appraised Emoyan. Hmm. He couldn’t punish them all without becoming intensely disliked. Maybe he didn’t care. Whatever; Rusahre didn’t really care either, and maybe if everyone spoke up, he’d have to…uh, apologize?

Not that that’d do much good. Whatever. Rusahre was just in a bad mood, and Emoyan had not done anything to help it.

“Thank you so very much, Candidatemaster, for your confidence in our ability to understand the Pernese language, as well as that to move of our own volition from Point A to Point B. It’s touching.” Rusahre spoke quietly enough, but he was certain that Emoyan could hear him; it wasn’t like they were in a very noisy setting anyway. One hand rose, pushing his hair out of his eyes, and he quirked one eyebrow seriously at the Candidatemaster; his voice had been completely emotionless. Normally, Rusahre wasn’t sarcastic. Especially not to people who technically ranked him. But he didn’t want or need to be here, he – and the other Candidates; he didn’t usually gang up with people, a loner by nature, but if given the choice, he’d definitely prefer the company of them to other people; at least they had something in common with them – didn’t deserve or need to be dragged here and there like herdbeasts too stupid to properly comprehend ”Please move to that desk”.

“Were you planning on maybe dragging us by our ears onto the Hatching Sands when the next queen Clutches, too? ‘Cause – I could be wrong – somehow, I don’t think the queen will really appreciate it.” Rusahre wanted to touch his ear – gingerly, to see if he could maybe make it stop throbbing – but he didn’t want to in front of the Candidatemaster; he settled for jerking his head to make his hair fall back across his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest and blowing out hard to make the black hair fly into the air and then settle back across his face again; he smirked slightly. That was what’d he count: How many times he’d be able to do this before the Candidatemaster…freaked out. Again.

[wokaida]

Stuffing the last of her bread into her mouth Chehero shifted in her seat. She was forgetting something, something extremely important. One that would demand her utmost attention. Squinting her eyes in thought as she rose from the table the young journeyman harper, began her trek down the hallway. The memory had been posted on a sign outside a door... a sign of oh! Then it clicked she was going to be late for her first lesson. This was a big deal, if she missed her lesson she would miss the hatching! Picking up her pace she hurried down the long hallway taking in deep breaths as she moved swiftly along.

Finally stumbling upon the room her heart sank deeply. Not only was she extremely late, she was probably going to end up making everyone angry with her. Shifting herself among the empty seats to sit as close to the group of candidates as she could without being noticed by the candidate master. A pleading apology echoed her face. She had never been late for anything before in her life and this was a first a definite form of failure to her. Straining her eyes to keep her low emotion in check, Chehero lowered her gaze as to not meet the eyes of the master. If she did that would only mean she was challenging him and didn't feel the deep regret for missing the start of class she already did. If he called her on it though. She would inevitably be forced to reply.

Glancing up every now and then as the candidate master moved the students around in a rather odd fashion using their ears. Chehero mentally shrugged, of course ears hurt be pulled and tugged on. But that only seemed to happen if they didn't manage to move quickly with Emoyan and resisted his movements. Right? Hazel eyes danced around the room. Even if her ear was pulled to move her into her proper seat it was something she deserved for being so late anyway. Sighing inwardly Chehero shivered, all she could do was hope she hadn't upset Emoyan.

[subtlemystery]

To be honest, Kaerlin actually liked chores and lessons. For two main reasons, one, being that it kept him occupied and the other being that when doing them with others, there were ample chances for pranks, jokes and other such merriment. Something that Kaerlin adored. The difference between chores and lessons, was that with chores, you could turn up at any old time and still be marked off as doing the chore you were assigned to. Lessons on the other hand, one had to be at the lessons on time. Which, Kaerlin wasn't.

This resulted in him promptly dropping what he was doing (such as attempting to clean up the mess that was his trunk and find that one missing shirt) and run. It never crossed his mind that he'd be better off walking, at a slow, sedate pace and then arriving at the lesson with a thought-up excuse and reason for his lateness, ready and willing to learn. Instead, he was going to end up practically collapising against the wall outside the lesson room and fighting to get his breath back. Stupid lessons. He'd even heard people moving about to go to them, and yet, Kaerlin being Kaerlin had paid no such heed to these things.

"Sorry!" He was late he knew it, but what brough Kaerlin up for a pause was that no one was... Well... Learning. Infact, the candidatemaster was hauling people about by hte ears and dropping them in different seats. Almost absently, his own hand touched his ears, eying the candidatemaster with an expression that wasn't quite awe, yet wasn't quite fear or amusement either. Perhaps, playing around in this class wouldn't be the best thing, Kaerlin liked his ears the way they were.

Edging closer to the others, Kaerlin contemplated the merits of apologising again, and then dismissed it. One thing he had learnt was not to bring undue attention to himself, and he didn't want the CandidateMaster always remembering him to be tardy. Which he was, only some of the time. No attention, meant no grabbing of the ears and being hauled about by that leverage. Perching carefully on a seat, Kaerlin watched the Candidatemaster quite carefully, obviously waiting for the punishment of ear-grabbing to begin.

[Sheari]

It was funny to watch, all the boys be hauled around by their ears. She stiffled her giggles so that only she could hear them if they decided to escape. Why Emoyan hadn't just told them where to go she didn't know. Then it hit her, would he pick her up and pull her across the room as well?

As if on cue the Candidatemaster looked at her and she hoped her ears would remain untouched. All he told her to do, however, was leave and get someone to look at her hand.

Anusha was a little put out, actually, at having to run and find a healer for a minor cut. Not to mention not knowing where to find a healer. She mused to herself about just going back to the girls' room and taking the time to bandage it better. After all, the Candidatemaster said they would wait for her, why not take the time?

Because she wanted to get out of lessons as soon as possible and have the rest of the day to herself. Seemed like as good enough a reason as any.

In her reverie, Anusha made it to the Main Hall. "Does anyone know where I can find a healer?" She said loudly. Enough people were there for her, she hoped, to find someone who knew who could help her.

[dragon]

Emoyan took a moment to just watch the complaining boys, and noted that two more candidates had made it in. Good. The grumbling though ... it wouldn't do. Though he was happy to see the new two were wise enough to take seats with the group without any prompting. Maybe there was hope for this lot after all.

He would wait on Anusha for the lesson itself, but plainly there were other matters to be ironed out as well. and he aimed to see they were addressed. "Now listen up. You kids are potentially the next generation of Pern's guardians. And to become the epitome of your potential, you must attend your lessons. If candidates do not attend lessons, they will be denied the priveledge of attending hatchings, much less standing. It is my job to turn the lot of you into candidates worth Impressing. And it is your job to become those Candidates."

"My name is Emoyan. I am your Candidate Master. I do not mind you calling me by my name, but you will address me with respect, and you will not argue with me. Lesson times are posted, and I expect the lot of you to be prompt. I am not going to go hunt you down. Either you wish to Impress, or you don't. If you do not make it here before the lesson proper starts, you will be counted as late. And late students must retake the class. Classes must be done, or you will not stand. Also, I am not of a mood to put up with cheek from any of you ... and when it is plainly obvious that I am over here for the lesson session, I assume you are smart enough to make the logical conclusion that you are to sit over here. I am not going to yell myself hoarse just so you can hear me when you chose to sit far off and gone on the other continent. That does not count as attending. If you are not smart enough to make these conclusions on your own, then you fully deserve whatever you receive for it. Also. I expect you to be a proper class. You will sit up, you will pay attention. And you will occupy only one chair at a time."

Emoyan shot a look at Rusahre then. "And if you don't get that hair out of your face, I'll cut it off for you right now. I want to know you are paying attention and not sleeping behind that mop of yours." He warned. Yes, he might be coming off somewhat strong on them, but ... he saw it as better to lay down the rules, and get thier respect straight off ahead of time, rather than end up struggling with them the whole time he tried to get them walking in the same direction. He really was not a dissagreeable sort, but he also was not going to tolerate out of line behaviour either. He had standards, and he was going to hold them all to them.

"When you leave here, you inform the others of what I have told you. If they wish to impress, they must attend. Not knowing the rules is no excuse for breaking them. And if missing lessons causes them to miss hatchings and thier dragon goes between without them? That is thier own fault."

He looked at Rusahre again. "And if you really want me to humilate you infront of the Queen by dragging you in there by your ear, I'd be happy to oblige you." He countered. "Now be quiet. Until I tell you that you are free to yammer your flapper, you will listen and not talk."

Rascal fluttered over to the lip on the hearth, and on the other corner perched Voyager. The two flitters watched the class critically, as if ready to pounce at a moment's notice. They didn't really understand what was going on, but were aware that something definitely was happening. Thier posturing had nothing to do with Emoyan prodding them, though it might look like it was.