Archive Duty: Candidate Group II [August]

[Avu]

Meira had always liked the archives. The smell of mysteries to be uncovered, of records…if she could make out the cracked words, the runny ink, she could read about all sorts of things. On a normal day, the healer would be thrilled to be in the Archives. No, not thrilled—delighted. To just sit and pore over the books, learning about healers of the past, which interested her despite the fact that she was no longer, truly, a healer. It was peaceful in there. Calm. There was no panic, no running, no brooms and no snarky Drudges that were just waiting to pick on you, to take out their anger. So, she would be excited about the Archives.

But not today.

No. Today she was here doing chores. To Meira, it seemed half of her waking day was spent doing chores. She sighed restlessly, standing in the door of the room, full to bursting of records. Records about everything. Carefully sidling around the most battered records, which, more likely than not, included records nobody cared about, and would put people to sleep, such as how much tithe was paid by each Hold and Hall. Why did anyone bother to write records on them? As if Dragonriders would wave a cracked old record at someone and bark out, ‘According to this record, you didn’t pay your fair share of tithe fifteen Turns ago. Pay up!’

Moodily finding a record about a Hatching, Meira sighed as she began to copy it. Already she was insatiably bored. Yes, she got to read the record, but she read so much faster than she could copy…First egg Shelled… The scratching of her copying made the girl even more irritable than was her wont. Shelled was bronze… Her mind began to wander; she wrote brainlessly. Her handwriting was probably just as unreadable as the older record…

Meira felt her eyelids droop; her lashes brushed against her cheeks as she yawned, struggling to keep herself awake…was this a chore? Yes, it was. It was definitely a chore to stay awake, stay alert…why, nothing short of a Hatching could wake her right now…Meira closed her eyes briefly. This is ridiculous. I need to stay awake. Exhaling, she reopened her eyes, determined to keep herself from dozing off, and blinked in consternation. “Oh, Shards,” she blurted in dismay, staring at the record. She couldn’t even read her own writing!

Biting back the frustrated comments that yearned to come out, Meira set to recopying it again. First egg Shelled… She must’ve copied those words a thousand times by now…Meira chanced a glance out of the window. She would be grateful if someone joined her. Like Raila had before. Or if some emergency gave her the chance to slip away, get out of these desperately tedious chores.

[reqqy]

To finally be out from under the Headwoman's thumb! Mutasim felt liberated. The normally droll and dour young man had a noticeable skip to his step this morning. Archival duty was one of his favorites - mostly because he had the archivists all wrapped around his little finger. They'd thought it so cute when he taught himself to read some two turns ago, and still coddled him something awful. He still wasn't much of a fan of being crowded, but it was certainly better than the evil kitchen nazis or all of the Headwoman's hogwash. Who would have known the woman could carry a grudge for so long? It didn't help that he honestly didn't see where he'd gone wrong. Taking off part of the brat's ear was quite generous by Bitran standards.

He sidled into the dusty, musty room, wrinkling his nose to try to keep from sneezing and feeling very much at home. This was his haunt during most of Z'hin's stay in the infirmary. Months of pouring over marks and looking for patterns. Oh, he still couldn't read on the same level as most people his age, but he could hold his own well enough nowadays. Immediately upon entering the place, he noticed the girl, one of the candidates that was part of his 'group.' There weren't many of them. This one - Meira - was not one he knew well. Now, Raila, on the other hand, he could very much do without. On impulse, he changed course and headed her direction.

Jabari, wrapped about his pet's arm, unfurled himself and snatched the quill from the girl's fingers, gliding back to Mutasim. The candidate snorted. "Miscreant," he commented, taking the quill and twirling it through his fingers. A genuine smile touched his face, making of the intense eyes something far less threatening than his usual glower. Ah, but Mutasim was being quite impulsive today; he levered himself up onto her desk, slightly off to one side, and nudged Meira lightly with a bare foot - his boots were now uncomfortably tight, and he'd discarded them entirely. "Falling asleep? Now, that's not allowed." His fingers spread, touching some of the papers that she'd begun to write, but left off for one reason or another. Muta frowned slightly. "Don't they all say the same thing? I know I'm not all that great at reading or anything, but..." Small smile.

It was weird, looking down on someone. He found himself studying her curiously, unused to the angle. No, he still hadn't grown an inch since his arrival two turns ago, but if the tightness of his boots were any indication, Muta might be seeing his first true growth spurt in turns. That would be...odd. Pretty face. Mousey. "You like him, don't you?" the young man asked, his baby face negated by the facial hair that refused to stay shaved and the broadness of his shoulders. He gestured to Jabari. "I saw you watching him at the lesson." The brown chirped softly, tilting his head and eyeing Meira. "Oh, right. Here." Muta handed back the quill, rotating it to present the handle to her. There was nothing at all wary or defensive about his posture. Still, hard to miss the wide strap of rawhide crossing his chest, lined with about a dozen sheathed daggers. Muta was dressed in all black, as normal, but the heat didn't seem to bother him.

He nodded to the half-finished pages. "There's an easier way, you know." His eyes glinted mischievously.

[Ruby]

Ah, archives. Was there nothing in this Weyr but busy kitchens and dusty holes? Even assigned to the ONE chore that she didn't think was desperately awful- General Weyr Service- she'd been sent to the kitchens. At least she'd met Meira there, and the two girls had had quite a nice chat. Now that Raen seemed to be out of the picture, Meira was kind of Raila's only option for female friendship among her class, and she was actually glad. The Wher candidate was a really sweet girl, even if there seemed to be some sort of past trauma lurking under her surface. And it was nice to have a break from Mutasim- with Meira around, she could ignore the sharding dimglow. Cutting off people's ears- who thought that was an acceptable thing to do? Good Faranth, had he been raised in a cave?

Pushing the door open, though, Raila's mood got infinitely worse. First of all, the room was sweltering, and full of dust. That combination meant sweat would turn into dirt, and there was definately going to be sweat involved, just sitting in here with the door closed for a few hours. Second, Mutasim was here- sitting on Meira's table, close to her, and looking down at her like the pair had been boon companions since birth. Of course, Raila doubted that, but she hadn't known that they were even on speaking terms with one another.

Trying to smother her annoyed "Hmph," which she actually did a fair job of, she snatched the nearest book and went to the far end of the next table down, snatching paper, ink and a quill off off their table along the way. She thumped the book down beside the paper, opened it, and started copying some ancient, quite boring tithe records in her neat hand, striving to make them perfect, striving to keep her mind off Mutasim and Meira and her feeling of betrayl. If only there had been a table out of sight.

[Avu]

Shelled green Zaryneth… Meira sighed to herself as she wrote as slowly as she could while still affecting to work hard—a difficult chore. …Zaryneth Impressed to… And then a bolt of brown that she vaguely recognized, and her quill was gone. The girl’s eyes widened in surprise as she looked up sharply, just as a foot that felt oddly bare touched her leg. A boy met her gaze, a boy whom she knew… From where? She glanced at the quill in his hands, and then at the fire lizard, and the memory came back. Candidate lessons, of course! Why hadn’t she remembered at once? He’d also been part of her chore group, even if she hadn’t ever spoken to him—or even recalled doing any chores with him. “Falling asleep? Now that’s not allowed.” Was he teasing? Probably. Meira sighed, sitting upright and stretching her shoulders gratefully.

“No-o-o,” she agreed, still slightly wary; he hadn’t been in the best of moods in the Candidate lessons, after all, if she remembered correctly…and besides, the strap across his chest, knives and all, presented a dangerous touch…her small belt knife would be no good against those. Well, she could humor him—and herself. “Records shouldn’t be allowed to be so boring. Whoever originally wrote these must’ve been snoring when he was halfway through the first one.” Meira didn’t protest when he fingered her previous attempts—most of which she’d simply given up on. “Most of them do,” she acknowledged, a rueful grin curling her lip. “But if you’ll look, you’ll see that they’re all in handwriting nobody could be pressed to read without developing a headache.” She tapped the paper she’d been working on. “I just started on this one, and so far it’s almost as bad.”

Under his intent gaze, Meira felt her cheeks warming slightly. It’d been a long time since anyone had stared at her, and his eyes were odd. It was difficult to place exactly why they were so different, but they were decidedly strange. “Him?” Meira blinked, trying to draw her gaze away from the boy’s eyes. As he gestured to the fire lizard, she blinked again, this time in understanding. “Oh…well, yes, I suppose…fire lizards—I guess I like them as a whole.” A faintly sarcastic grin flicked across her mouth. “Most fire lizards aren’t thieves of quills, though.” She accepted the quill gratefully, and had mumbled a thanks before she recalled that if it hadn’t been for the boy—whose name, she recalled suddenly, was Mutasim—she wouldn’t need the quill back.

She’d already started copying again when his voice reached her. “Easier way?” she echoed absently, and then the full impact of the words struck her. “Wait, there is? What way?” Meira blinked, drawing her fast-fading attention away from the old Records and back on Mutasim again. His odd clothing went unnoticed, although a vague thought about wouldn’t it be hot? flitted across her mind subconsciously. And why on Pern did he have those knives?

A small movement caught her eye, and, momentarily startled, Meira glanced around and noticed Raila enter. A smile of greeting curled the wher Candidate’s mouth, but much to her surprise, Raila—well, Meira wasn’t sure if the girl just hadn’t seen her fellow Candidates or not, but if she did, she gave no indication of it, instead going off by herself. Meira’s first instinct was to go after her, but, she reminded herself, she had other company. Surely, when Raila did notice them—assuming that the girl hadn’t—she would come? Until then…

[reqqy]

Mutasim shrugged eloquently. It was a rather frequent motion of his, and always managed to contain more information than most people could through a minute of chatter. This particular one seemed to indicate that he didn't see what was wrong with her writing, and there was really nothing at all that could be done about how boring the records were. His smile was slight, but still not tainted by his usual ill humor. The boy drew up a piece of parchment to investigate it more thoroughly, producing a quill from some unknown location and quickly scratching out a rendition of Meira's. He showed her the parchment, the scribblings of his handwriting that made hers look like those of a professional archivist, and grinned, clearly bemused. A brow rose mildly. See? She had no reason to be such a perfectionist.

Was she...blushing? That made him blink. Ah. Not his intention at all, to make her uncomfortable. Mutasim shifted a little further away, and redirected his attention to some more of the papers, if only because he wouldn't want anyone to notice his unease if the situation was reversed. Jabari, however, protested to the movement, hopping down and proceeding to amble over toward Meira. He curled up by her arm with casual aplomb, his tail coming to drape over it. Looking up at her, the brown firelizard yawned widely, exposing a good number of sharp, needlelike teeth. Jabari was, on most occasions, a good indicator of Mutasim's mood, though whether that was true this time or not was hard to determine.

"He seems to like you, himself," Muta muttered, nudging the brown. Jabari hissed and nipped at his fingers, even as the boy directed a mock scowl at the creature. "Abandoning me for the first pretty face that comes along, eh, putz? Fine then." Mutasim sniffed and tried to keep a straight face. He merely watched her work for a moment, waiting for her reaction, but then she was looking up in honest interest. Ah. That was better. "Yup," he replied, nodding solemnly...but that was when they were joined by Raila. Muta visibly stiffened, his face losing all manner of emotion in the space of a few seconds. Raila. Great. That girl who thought she was always the most important person in a room, who seemed determined to believe that she was the daughter of two dead Fort Weyrleaders and to make sure everyone else believed it, too. Well, if she was, Mutasim had never been impressed by errors of birth. Emphasis on error. Whoever her parents were, they must have been completely drunk to procreate and produce that.

Fortunately, Raila didn't feel the need to join them. A good thing. She was one of the only girls/women he'd ever felt a desire to draw blade on. He could understand protestations regarding his treatment of that stupid weyrbrat, even if he still felt his actions perfectly reasonable. But protestations about how it inconvenienced her? The girl was hardly worth sneezing on.

Recovering himself, he jerked his head toward the head archivist. "Just watch." Mutasim slid down to stand, picking up some materials and moving to an empty desk. He unfurled one of the records, tapping it lightly and muttering beneath his breath, his face screwed up into a study of concentration. A heartfelt sigh escaped him. Then another. In a matter of moments, the archivist walked up to him, an elderly lady, and bent over to see what was giving him such trouble. Soon she was copying down the words herself. "See? That's Gireth. I know the G looks unusual, but that's just because they were in a hurry. Do you know what this word is?" Mutasim made a show of sounding it out. By the end, she'd copied an entire page for him. He looked up at her with troubled, pleading eyes. "Can I keep it to study?" This time, the woman snorted, boxing his ear. "Rascal. Just take it and go."

The candidate sidled over to Meira, flourishing the parchment with a grin. "Easy as that." He was fairly certain the head archivist knew just what he was doing, but as long as she played along...shards if he wasn't going to take advantage of it.

[Ruby]

((go ahead without me))

[Avu]

Meira watched as Mutasim found a quill from seemingly nowhere and began to write, and then compared her handwriting to his. She bit back a grin at the messiness of her companion’s, and then smiled, eyeing the paper with mock criticism. “Who taught you to write?” she asked. “I don’t know any Archivists that are this…creative.” She let her smile cross her face in case he took it as an insult. Really, there was nothing wrong with messy handwriting—perhaps it was a bit hard to read, but nobody read these anyway. So, it didn’t really matter—well, unless perhaps someone picky decided to read it.

She watched the brown fire lizard, her eyes frankly interested, as he proceeded down from Mutasim where he had been perched and curled up by her arm, his tail falling over it. He looked peaceful, lying there, so Meira refrained from moving her arm, which was needed in order to copy further. And then he tried to snap at Mutasim. Meira giggled at the brown’s actions—how could he be so contradictory? “Is he normally like this?” she asked, although she’d been pleased when the Candidate had commented that the fire lizard liked her. A faint reddish tint appeared in her cheeks again when he spoke next: “Abandoning me for the first pretty face that comes along, eh, putz? Fine then.”

The girl was momentarily absorbed in the fire lizard, and when she looked up, Mutasim’s face was oddly emotionless. Following his gaze, she found herself looking at Raila. “Oh, do you know her?” Meira offered brightly, although she couldn’t imagine why he was looking so closed off suddenly. Was something wrong? She blinked uncertainly, her mouth about to form the question, but she decided not to. If he wanted to tell her, he’d tell her in his own time. It was never any good to force anything out of anybody.

She was distracted anyways a second later, watching in half-amusement and half-reproach as Mutasim used one of the Archivists into copying an entire page from him. No wonder he’d seemed so happy when he came in—he didn’t have to do anything but one or two words. As he returned, Meira bit her lip, keeping back a giggle. “I’m glad your hand won’t be sore,” she replied, “But I think I’d rather keep my dignity.” Although, she thought privately, she might be tempted to try that out later…when her hand was cramped, as it would undoubtedly be.

[reqqy]

Mutasim pulled a mock frown at Meira's gentle teasing. "Oh, I taught me to write, less than two turns ago," he responded honestly, before throwing her a wink to show he wasn't offended. How could he be? After all, the whole point of showing her was to prove just how bad handwriting could be. Yes, that information probably revealed more about himself than he would like, since most holders and weyrfolk learned to read and write early on - if they had any parents or fosterparents to speak of - but he didn't really care. Meira didn't threaten him. Nor was he as worried about being found out as when he first arrived at Selenitas Weyr, although he suspected that most people who still managed to like him despite his surliness would change their minds if they knew some of his more...bloody history.

"Who, Jabari?" He glanced at the brown, who was doing a fair job of pretending he was already very much asleep. "I wouldn't say normally, but yes, he's been getting more bold lately." Mutasim tried not to associate that with himself, though it was difficult. Jabari had always been something of the outward indicator of Mutasim's inner state, a rather aggravating truth when the candidate was trying to present a neutral facade.

That was when she asked him about Raila. He really, really didn't want to start down that road, because if he got going on just how many reasons he'd much rather see the girl at the bottom of the Falls, it likely would all spill out of him with nothing resembling control. Instead, he offered Meira a tight, "Yes. We've met, in passing. Can't say as I'd like a repeat performance." There. That was fairly controlled, right? He could almost be proud of himself for the effort, although almost was most certainly the operative word.

Mutasim shrugged. "Suit yourself. Lost my dignity long ago." Jabari's head came up in an inquiring chirp, but he settled when it was clear that the candidate wasn't struggling with his usual demons, though the words had obviously referenced them. He plopped back down on Meira's desk and began to swing his legs back and forth, as they couldn't quite reach the ground from this height. "Or you could bribe weyrbrats with shinys. I've still got some of those hanging around somewhere. Though I suppose if you absolutely want to sit in this dusty hole and scratch away at parchment until your hand falls clean off, that's your prerogative." He shrugged his shoulder amiably and took to reading over her work. Strangely enough, talkative as he'd been, Mutasim didn't seem at all bothered by maintaining that silence and reading long, boring histories of dragon Impressions.

In truth, any form of practice was bound to help. Mutasim fully intended to reach the same level as everyone else. Eventually.

[Avu]

“Oh?” Meira murmured vaguely, and then backtracked again. “Wait, you taught yourself? How?” It was hard enough teaching other people when you already knew how to write and read—how impossible would it be to teach yourself something unknown? Especially if you couldn’t read? Well, assuming he couldn’t read as well. If he could, he could always copy down what he read. Which, judging by his ‘creative’ handwriting, he hadn’t. “It must’ve been pretty hard,” she commented, studying his writing with renewed interest. No, it wasn’t neat, but at least it was legible, and better than some Weyrbrats’ who had actually had people teaching them how to write.

Her gaze flicked to the brown fire lizard, who looked—asleep. A small smile curled her lip. No creature, be it fire lizard or human, could fall asleep that fast, especially if he had been stealing things only minutes previously. Right? “Is he really asleep?” she asked, just to be sure. It was a perfect mime. Almost too perfect. “Oh, and when’d you Impress him?” she added curiously. Fire lizard Hatching records were probably not as boring as tithe records, but dragon and wher Hatchings were a lot more—well, not exciting, per se, but…more explosive. More interesting. In a way…

Mutasim’s sudden control over his voice startled Meira slightly; she threw him a swift, startled glance. Yes, we’ve met in passing. Can’t say I’d like a repeat performance. Oh-kay, so he…disliked her? Or just didn’t like her? She gazed briefly from Mutasim to Raila, and then shrugged. Clearly from the way he spoke, the careful picking of words in comparison to the ease of speaking before, he didn’t want to talk any more about that. Well, Meira could understand that. All right. “Mm,” she commented, quirking her eyebrow at him, and then shrugged it off. “Well, all right.”

Even though it did feel kind of odd, knowing Raila was there, was her friend, and yet ignoring her.

She had to giggle, though, at his frank admitting of loss of dignity. “I’d rather hang on to mine for a while, even if some of us obviously don’t agree.” The brown fire lizard’s head shot up; Meira suppressed the triumphant realization that she’d been right—he hadn’t been asleep after all. Unless…well, there were lots of counterarguments, but right now she didn’t need to touch on those. Tugging a record out from under him as he sat back onto the table again, Meira shook his head. “I think I’d rather I earned the Candidacy, like we’re supposed to do,” she replied wryly. “Besides, it’s not that bad when you’ve someone to talk to.”

[reqqy]

How did he teach himself? That might be difficult to explain. Mutasim thought for awhile, trying to remember exactly how it happened. He really was one of those people who just picked things up really quickly. "I had one of the archivists read it to me, and move their finger along the line as they read. Found patterns after awhile, and...then started reading on my own. Then writing a bit. My handwriting's probably so strange because I don't know how you're supposed to make the marks, you know?" The boy shrugged mildly. Honestly, he'd learned to read a little as a young boy, but most of it had been forgotten, and he'd definitely fallen out of practice. His memory probably brought some of that up, as well, helping him along the way.

The first sign of something other than Mutasim's strangely cheerful outlook crept into his eyes at the mention of Jabari's hatching. When had that been? Over a turn ago now, he thought. Yes. Definitely. He'd broken his foot, and Z'hin had been carrying him after he'd gone too far out on his own. When they arrived at the Main Hall they hadn't know about the firelizard hatching. He closed his eyes for a moment. "Almost two turns ago now," he finally managed, forgetting her initial question. Z'hin. Shardit, he'd never thought the man would turn up dead, after surviving so much. It seemed - impossible. If he were honest with himself, the brownrider was something of a hero to Mutasim - the uncorrupted. A man who wouldn't lie down and take anything, but who wasn't tainted by darkness. To lose him...it had been devastating.

Fortunately, he shook the melancholy off fairly quickly.

A brow rose at her giggling. She thought it was funny, did she? To him, wheedling a few pieces of parchment out of the archivists was definitely not a hit to his non-existant ego. There was no dignity left for him. People said that dignity couldn't be taken away, that it was something inside you. That was a load of bull. No matter how strong you were, how righteous, anyone could have their dignity stolen from them by someone else. There were just some things so dirty, so unspeakable, that a man couldn't crawl his way back from it without losing some of his sense of control and humanity. He frowned slightly at her comment, as if it had ever been his choice. If it had, dignity wouldn't be an issue. He shook it off. Again. Meira didn't know. No one did. He intended to keep it that way.

Mutasim supported himself on his palms long enough for the girl to remove what she needed. He glanced toward Raila from the corner of his eye, wondering what her relationship was with Meira. The candidate couldn't hold back his snort when she lightly scolded him. "I've been through four Hatchings thus far, Meira. I believe I've earned my candidacy. But, if you insist, I suppose I can torture any future readers with my horrible handwriting, just for the sake of amusement." With that, he stole one of the records she clearly hadn't gotten to and a few sheafs, tapping the end of the quill against the blank parchment contemplatively. It didn't seem to bother him that he only had his lap to rest these things on.

Mutasim chuckled, casting a glance toward Jabari, who still hadn't - quite - fallen asleep, though it was hard enough to tell. Scoundrel. "I suppose talking has its merits. Depends on the company." Without looking up from his swift scribblings, he nudged her in the side with a toe, pretending innocence.

[Avu]

Meira listened, her eyes curious, as the Candidate explained. It sounded quite easy the way he said it, but no doubt it had taken a lot of time and effort. “Well, it’s not hard to make them right once you’ve got the hang of it,” she commented. She paused briefly, and then said, “It’d be easy to learn…I’m sure you could get one of the archivists to teach you, the way they dote on you already…or I could teach you.” She glanced up from her writing, which was starting to go stale again. “It wouldn’t be hard,” Meira said, firmly. “If you can teach yourself to read and write, it’d be just a day or two before you could learn to…adjust…your writing style so others can read it.”

She was still watching him when something shifted in his eyes and the cheer in them…was gone. Well, not entirely gone, but—overshadowed. Had Meira affected that? By mentioning his Impression of a fire lizard? The girl was…startled, to say the least. When he spoke, she focused onto his words, deciding not to take notice of the look in his eyes. “Two turns…” A smile quirked her lip. “I thought hatchlings were the ones who went to sleep every five minutes.” Raising her hand, she tentatively ran her fingers down the brown’s body. Who would’ve thought dragon hide was so soft? Admittedly, she’d touched a dragon before, only a while before really, but the surprise didn’t lessen.

As Mutasim raised his eyebrow, looking solemn, Meira blinked, slightly uncertain. She had just been teasing him…perhaps he just took everything seriously? And yet, he’d been quite ready to wheedle the archivists into doing work for him—that just didn’t fit together right. Was it something she’d said? She hadn’t meant to make him withdraw…or anything. Ah well, it didn’t matter. People were odd…and perhaps odder in the Weyr?

She wrote absently, the scratching of the quill in rhythm to her vague stirring thoughts. Perhaps it was something like—something had happened? Or—his voice broke her reverie. Four Hatchings? The wher Candidate blinked, startled. If she’d gone through that many, she would’ve lost hope…a surge of respect for Mutasim’s determination rose. “I’m sure they can decipher your handwriting if we can figure out what these musty old scrolls say,” Meira said firmly. She grinned at his odd ‘desk’ of sorts, but chose not to say anything about that—if he’d taken offense or anything at her slight taunt, it’d be better to watch what she said for the future.

Her quill’s scratching slowed slightly again as Mutasim spoke. “Hmm? Well, I guess. I’ve yet to meet anyone I dislike, though.” And then his toe ‘accidentally’ nudged her side; a smile touched Meira’s lips as she raised one brow at him. “And am I bad company or good?”

[reqqy]

Mutasim wasn't expressly sure he wanted to be taught the correct way to write, if only because that would mean he couldn't use it as an excuse to wheedle the archivists into doing this chore for him. He glanced surrepitiously at Raila. Although...there was a strong likelihood that if he continued this, that annoying girl might just rat on him, and the last thing he needed was for the Candidatemaster to join up with the Headwoman in her anti-Mutasim demonstration. If he actually tried to learn from the archivists, though, there was the distinct possibility that they'd realize he'd been using them - if they didn't already know - and that could prove just as unfortunate. He smiled at Meira. "If you wouldn't mind, I think I'd learn better from you." Oh, how sweet he was when he chose to be! He knew he would have gagged if he could have seen himself.

Amused at her comment, he stuck his tongue out at Jabari, watching the brown's tail flick in annoyance that the firelizard couldn't quite conceal. "Oh, he's just lazy. Won't even chase a green. That's why he always hitches rides on my shoulder, to avoid having to do any real work." Oh that did it! The brown's head came up, roundly scolding his humanpet for being so mean! He wasn't lazy! He just liked being near this other human, thank you very much. Clearly sulking, he put his head down on his forelegs, the tip of his tail flicking in agitation.

At her comment about not having met anyone she disliked, the candidate couldn't repress a snort. "Lucky you. Seriously, Meira, you're going to have to get out more." A rather interesting comment, considering Mutasim could be considered something of a recluse himself. Of course, he had no trouble finding people to dislike. One of them was right in this room at this very moment. Default position for Mutasim: vague dislike. It didn't take too horribly much to push it into like, but it was sure easy for his impression of a person to lower - sometimes quite unfairly. Not that he would admit that last bit.

His head came up as if he hadn't heard her, brow knotting slightly. "Hmmm?" Mutasim touched the quill to his chin, leaving a small dash of ink there. No, he had no idea why he was in such a playful mood today, but he was, and it was definitely showing through. The darker side of him thought that Meira must resemble one of the girls from his den those turns ago, though when he thought on that he couldn't quite nail down just who that might be. "Oh. Good or bad. Well...I don't know, but I haven't left yet, have I?" He couldn't keep the teasing light from his eyes, though his voice was properly droll.

[Avu]

Meira raised one eyebrow, grinning, half-flattered and half-amused by his sudden sweetness. Who would’ve guessed? Certainly she wouldn’t have…“Well then, pupil Mutasim, when would you like to have your first lesson?” Her voice had a teasing note in it as she tilted her head slightly, reading what he’d already written. No, his handwriting could not in any light be defined as “good.” Well, at least he wasn’t misspelling things as far as she’d read (two words)—a feat rather hard when the correct spelling was right in your face, but some typos didn’t make sense either. She’d stopped expecting perfection a long time ago.

She watched the fire lizard’s tail flick, her eyes amused as Mutasim spoke. It was the kind of sentence that was spoken to one person, and yet directed to another, and apparently said fire lizard took it as such. Jabari’s scolding turned a few archivists’ heads and dropped a few jaws. Luckily, he stopped before anyone intervened. Meira suppressed a giggle at the vague impression of a sulky Weyrbrat that she received from the brown’s position. “Intelligent, isn’t he?” she commented lightly. Of course, if it cheered up the brown, that was good, but she really was impressed. Yes, fire lizards were just dragons in miniature, but that didn’t mean they were half as intelligent, and clearly Jabari was. Darling had been quite clever as well, she thought absently, remembering C’lryn’s gold fire lizard.

“Get out more to make enemies?” Meira grinned at the thought, raising both eyebrows as she shrugged a lock of hair over her shoulder. “I’d rather just keep friends and not make any enemies at all. It’d be a lot less stress. Besides, enemies never did anyone any good—friends are always better than enemies. I’d really rather stay with friends if I’ve a choice in it.” She sighed, shrugged. “Some of the Drudges are rude, sure, but no Candidate or Dragonrider I’ve met has been mean yet.” The girl raised her chin slightly. “How many have you met?”

She waited patiently for his decision, amusement entering her eyes as Mutasim drew the quill across his chin, leaving a dab of dark ink. He didn’t seem the type to go around making enemies, but everyone had their moods. Perhaps he’d just been in a bad one when he met some people—Raila included, she thought, remembering his comment—and now he wasn’t. Pity, really, first impressions did seem to matter such a lot in the Weyr. “No? Well, I’m glad you haven’t left,” she remarked, returning to the record. Green Serresth Impressed to Srenna… Copying records: Blah. “It makes it a lot easier to cope when you’ve company.”

[reqqy]

Oh, so it had worked? Not really the paranoid sort, was she? In her position, Mutasim would be wondering what was in it for the other person, and not at all believing the syrupy sweetness. In fact, sweet people made him itchy. You know, that creeping feeling that you were being played and that a demon lurked somewhere behind the bright eyes and happy tone. No one was truly like that unless they were just so naïve that they didn’t understand what was going on around them day after day. Of course, he’d stopped being quite so paranoid after coming south. People were just as evil here as they were in the north, but they had far less outlets for it. Plus they were really rather incapable of hurting him, most of them, at least in the traditional sense. Southerners were soft.

“Maybe after chores? Usually busy before then. But I have to wonder what you’ll want in return, because I can’t very well take writing lessons without giving you some sort of compensation. Just isn’t done. You don’t really seem like the type to want to learn self-defense, though you should, given we’ve nearly got a war on our doorstep. Maybe you’d like to learn to carve?” In this, he was being very genuine. Mutasim did not approve of owing any sort of debt to anyone. Just made things more difficult than they needed to be.

The brown very much approved of this girl, who clearly knew what she was about, as opposed to his humanpet. He crooned quietly, tilting his head to stare at her with loving eyes. Mutasim rolled his own. “Now you’ve gone and done it. Inflated his ego beyond redemption. Oh, he’s smart enough, I suppose.” Too little, too late. The brown hissed softly, before snuggling still closer to Meira. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he took that quill from you to begin with just to have an excuse to sprawl all over you. Isn’t that right, Jabari?” The firelizard didn’t deign to respond. He was quite comfortable curled over Meira’s arm, thank you very much.

A brow had risen mildly as Meira went on about friends and enemies. That was a very black-and-white outlook, now wasn’t it? “I meant that if you got out more you’d surely find people to dislike. And, anyway, are you saying that you’ve never disliked a friend or liked an enemy?” He shrugged mildly. Mutasim didn’t think he had any enemies at Selenitas, though there were certainly plenty of people he would much rather avoid than have anything to do with. Open hostility, though? No, Muta did not have many enemies. Just a few, most likely. Maybe Raila, though he really didn’t care on that count. She would be a much better enemy than a friend, that was for sure.

“You’re asking me to list everyone I’ve known here? That’s a lot of people, Meira. All of the candidates in the last two turns, at the very least, so all of the weyrlings, including the ones involved in the massacre that are now full riders. Rawign. He’s a candidate, but you’ll probably never see him. F’lan. He’s now a dragonless. Narna, who went to High Reaches. Several Candidatemasters. The list really is rather long.” And apparently he wasn’t going to continue it. Too many people to count, and he wasn’t really all that sociable.

Mutasim’s quill was flying across the paper again. Who cared if it wasn’t legible? “Glad to be of service,” he commented dryly.

[Avu]

Meira was pleasantly oblivious of Mutasim’s thoughts, as she had finally finished copying the first section of one of the records and shifted to a clean piece of the hide, squinting to make out the faded words. Bronze Tesith Impressed to… Without looking up, continuing to copy, she said, “That’d be fine by me. I don’t have much to do except lessons and chores anyhow.” A small smile quirked one side of her lip. “Apparently, seeing as I’ve not been here long, nobody trusts me enough to run errands.” She’d much rather just wallow than have to go around breathlessly, though, so no complaints there.

She did look up, slightly confused, at his eagerness to repay her. Most people had to be pressured to do that…she shrugged, but she touched the small knife at her belt as he mentioned self-defense. “I’m not entirely clueless,” she commented wryly. “I’ve been—erm, I—I’ve had reason to learn before.” Meira shrugged, trying to cover up the small—slip that she’d made. Her past was past. She had no reason or urge to bring it up again. “Carving’s fine,” she agreed. Carvings could be useful, both as a passing of time and, if times grew rough, carvings could be sold for marks.

She wasn’t that desperate yet, as the Weyr provided food and clothing, though.

Distracted from her writing by Jabari’s croon, Meira glanced at the fire lizard, and a small smile found her face again. She giggled at Mutasim’s words as well. “Well, as you don’t seem to help his ego any, he’ll need someone to encourage him.” Putting her quill down briefly, she stroked the brown’s neck. “He’s beautiful,” she said admiringly, both of Mutasim’s care for Jabari and for the fire lizard himself. Although a fire lizard could purportedly dive into a bottle of oil if need be, she preferred to assume that Mutasim did take care of him.

Picking the quill up again and resuming her copying, Meira raised one eyebrow questioningly. “That’s pessimistic, isn’t it? I can’t say I’ve never disliked a friend, but I’ve yet to find a reason to like an enemy.” At Benden Weyr, enemies remained enemies, and if they were suddenly friendly that was enough reason to turn tail and run. At Selenitas, on the other hand, Meira had decided that not many people were as…lustful, greedy, power-hungry, sexist…(the list went on) as at Benden.

“Not everyone you’ve met,” she corrected quickly. “Everyone you’ve met that you’ve taken as an enemy. I’m sure I’ve probably met more people than I can name, too,” she added. “A lot more than I’d have liked to meet, too,” she murmured to herself.