Land and Sea
Who: Celadion, Lujayn
Where: Lake Shore, HRW
When: Early morning of day 7, month 6, turn 26
The early birds find no worms. People, unlike certain bodies of water, are not lazy. Lu gives Celadion a knot to wrestle with.
Sure, most people are just getting up and at their day, but Celadion is not only up, but he's apparently at work. He stands up to his knees in the water, casting out an old fashioned line from a rough bit of stick. A soft humming floats back up towards the shore, the song likely unfamiliar to weyrfolk rather than exiles.
It's another beautiful morning at High Reaches, though Lujayn is not one of the few early-morning bustlers. She sits higher up on the shore with a bucket of oil on one side and a pile of riding straps on the other, hunched over her meticulous work with single-minded purpose. It's slow going, inch by inch examining every buckle and crease in the wherhide, scrubbing out grit and noting especially weak spots for repair. After a minute the rider leans back to stretch her cramped shoulders, sighing deeply. Tired gray eyes catch on Celadion, a lone figure standing partways out in the lake, then narrow in curiosity. She sets the oil down and takes up a clean rag, approaching the shore to collect rinsewater. "Any bites?" Tired but polite; Lu tries to smile.
It's not as though the sound of someone else down the shore was unexpected, more that the young man was so fixated on his humming and day dreaming while watching the bobby float along the lazy surface. So, when the woman calls out to him, he startles, whirling towards the voice with a sort of panic in his eyes before recovering. "Ah...not much." Covering any embarrassment with a small smile, "I did get a couple small ones, but had to throw them back. Your lake is very lazy."
"It's a lake, I think man-made," Lujayn sums up the predicament with a sympathetic shrug, looking out over the morning stillness, the reflections of a rising sun. "Not your wild ocean." Her tone carries a bit of envy to it. A beat or two of silence, wringing out the cloth and applying it to the places where oil simply won't do on her straps, Lu looks back up from her crouched position. "Did you make that rod yourself?" It's hard to tell whether she's sarcastic or genuinely interested. Mornings do that to some people.
"Right. -Lazy-." Celadion says again, for all the excuses that the woman makes for it. "Men shouldn't pretend to know the will of water and tame it. Look how sad it is here...still. Quiet. Dull. Even the fish don't seem to thrive." Because surely no matter how big the catch would be from the lake, it's fished by dragon and man a like right? The envy though, that makes his eyebrows lift in question, enough to ask, "Did you once live by the sea?" It could explain things. And her question to him makes him chuckle. "Yes. I did. They are easy enough to make. The skill is in the cast and...reading the water."
Lujayn quickly shakes off any animosity. It's too early for getting into petty squabbles, anyhow. "Not made for fishing," Again, she kneels to scrub at the leather, taking out whatever frustrations are running through her mind on the innocent straps, short on words. "The Fort area is close to rivers," Lu sits back, careful to keep her straps out of the dirt. "But up here the ocean is closer than you think. I've spent a lot of time at the shore.." Regarding Celadion with more openness, she continues, "..and I keep hearing your elders talking about 'reading the water'. What's that all about?" The question isn't posed rudely, curiosity getting the better of the junior weyrwoman and pushing the query rather informally.
Celadion watches the scrubbing of the straps as he draws in his line carefully. There's a skill in those rough hands, the way fingers don't get tangled in the line looped in and held taunt. "You could take me to see this place. Couldn't you? Rivers. I have heard they are as powerful as the sea. But, it seems like a..." He censors himself, "Story." Still his dark eyes stay on the straps, "What are you doing to those things? Are they that dirty?" While she regards him, he stands still, dressed in clothes that are still the old style of exiles, worn and rough and his hair still uncut, he's one of the few still holding tight to those old ways. "Reading the water? It's how you can tell if the weather is going to change. If the fish will bite. If your luck is good. But it takes a long time to learn to see it right." There's sadness in his tone, a suggestion that he no longer has such a time to learn these things.
Lujayn nods, gaze distant in reminiscence. "Rivers are powerful, always moving. Their floods are dangerous. But eventually they all lead to the sea.. they lend their power to it, I suppose." That's an admission she's willing to make. "I could take you sometime, yes. To the river or the sea. So many people act like they're imprisoned here, but all they need to do is ask. Truly." She shakes her head, one hand running absently over the newly oiled straps. "These are for my dragon, her harness. We have to inspect them to look for weak spots, to rub out grit that could corrode the buckles. If we didn't, I guarantee you'd see people falling out of the sky left and right." A little roll of her eyes. Because some people are cocky enough to trust in their straps and not hold on themselves. "It's worn here, see," Holding up a particularly cracked leather joint, somewhere where a brass ring connects several straps. "I'll need it repaired before I fly with these, just in case." A genuine smile this time, glad to share knowledge. "So. Can this lake tell you anything about your luck today, or is it still too lazy?"
Celadion yearn for it, with his expression and his voice: The sea. His hands still on the line, he looks at Lujayn, "I would like that. The gather....there were too many people. I..." There's an admission of weakness he's not ready to voice. Better to lean into that promise being dangled, "When?" Perhaps she might show mercy and actually go -now- the tone suggests. But she's working on straps? "You use those to keep yourself on...her?" He may have held other theories about the need for those leather straps. "Yes, I see. And you do all the work on them? The stablehands do all the work for those runner-beast gear. I think that would be a fulfilling job." Vague though, talking about either working with the leather, or working with the beasts. "MMmm, the lake is weary. The dragons and the men take from it and no one gives thanks or asks forgiveness. You are lucky the lake cannot take as the Sea. There would be a price I'm sure."
"It's our responsibility to make sure they're in good repair, but the tanners make the actual repairs." Lujayn quirks a brow. "You want to try holding onto a dragon's neck a hundred feet up in the middle of a turn? Especially on Rielsath, I wouldn't go flying without straps anywhere outside of the Weyr." Her comment suggests that other dragons might be more careful in flight, less likely to accidentally dislodge their riders with joyride maneuvers. "When there's time," The junior weyrwoman doesn't deny him the hope, but neither can she promise a punctual schedule. Instead, she listens to his thoughts on the lake. "Asking forgiveness? From a lake?" What an odd concept. "Isn't that the way nature works, that we maintain it and it provides for us? Orchards, fields, the like."
The dodge from the dragonrider to the date of this trip outside the weyr makes Celadion's mouth tighten. "Right. Another of your dragonriders said the same thing to me. Said they'd take me back to see the fate of our island. I'm sure, 'when there is time' is not likely to materialize." There's anger in his quiet words. The talk of straps is ignored now, he'll not be flying anywhere so it doens't matter. It takes him a moment to cool down enough for civil conversation, using the silence to cast out again in a series of graceful flicks of the long line until the little feathery end settles upon the water to tempt some passing fish. "I don't know. You maintain the land and I don't know much about fields and orchards. I know you don't tame or maintain the sea. Do you...maintain this lake?" Not her in particular, but any weyrfolk.
"I didn't mean your island," Lu is equally tight-lipped, raising some hairs. After a moment she moves on, likewise needing time to cool down for the pleasant exchange to continue. "The sea near the hold, or Fort's river. But not your island. I'm sorry." And it's hard to doubt her sincerity, the woman's tone heavy with regret and empathy. "I never liked being so far from home." Avoiding his stormy black eyes to survey the lake, Lujayn tries to answer with all she knows. "I know long ago the falls were diverted to feed the lake so it doesn't stagnate," She looks up to the diving cliffs where the freshwater splashes down eternally. "And fishers bring some of their smaller catches in to populate it.. that would be why your prizes were so tiny. But Rielsath says there are bigger fish at the bottom, and lots of plant life has taken hold that we can't see." She's comfortable enough to look back up at Celadion, no longer defensive. "It's a different world. I don't think I can fully understand it, ever."
There's still heat in Cela's expression, anger at being captive, and helplessness too. There's no reply to the assurance that she will take him 'somewhere' but it's easy to tell that he's not holding his breath that anything will come for the request. A man who has had his spirit beaten down lurks under the hard outer shell. "Fish that are trapped as well." At least that idea makes him smile in dark humor. "And I think you have to live that life to understand it. Have you met Rilka?" And then he realizes that he's not given introductions. "I'm not used to...giving my name still. I'm Celadion, son of Elders Harton and Velles." Elder names she would know, right?
Lujayn maneuvers around the angry exterior, letting go of the subject until he's ready to talk about it again, if at all. "It is what it is," She concludes, by no means defending the lake: just a lake. "Fish in any lake could be called 'trapped,' but because we put them here it's a problem..?" Maybe another minefield to avoid. Introductions tend to be pretty safe, so the goldrider moves on. "I don't think I've met Rilka, no.. or if I have I don't remember. These days it feels like all I do is introduce myself to newcomers. Sorry for skipping that part," Lu makes a jest at her own expense, "I'm Lujayn, Gold Rielsath's. Junior Weyrwoman." Parent names are generally of little consequence in Weyrs; since Celadion's given his she may as well return the favor. "Daughter of E'syn and Jaia, Fort riders." The greeting ritual is oddly comforting to her, and the up-down emotion of the conversation begins to rise again.
"I guess not. Not a problem that is. Fish are for eating." Celadion says it with amusement, "It hardly seems fair that I point out the unfairness in the life of 'fish'." A white-flag of sorts. "Lujayn. Ah. Well met. That is the right way to say it?" When she in turn gives her heritage he admits, "I thought you might know my parents. You spoke of talking with the elders. I'd like to know what some of those conversations are. What our fate may be." This might not be a safe line of conversation either, but one never knows.
"As far as I can tell, the Hold is not welcoming islanders at thie time," Lujayn's voice is undeniably irritated at those in question, even bitter. "The elders have agreed, as you probably know, that it is the duty of their people to stand for Iovniath's clutch. Jaques and others have volunteered to stand, and more have been searched - that is, selected for candidacy - by our dragons." No specifics are given as to the content of meetings between elders and Weyrleaders, but a summary is safe enough for her tastes. "There are all kinds of opinions flying around. Whether or not to stay here, set out on their own, return to the island. Any opinion you sympathize with, you could find just by asking around. And since you're asking me," Lu adds unabashedly, "I think things will be reconsidered after the eggs hatch." And in the end it comes down to time, more time. When there's time.
Celadion frowns at the news about the setback, "Is that only Highreaches Hold? Interesting, isn't it? That this sort of thing just happened." His eyebrows lift to go along with the skeptical note in his voice. "It smells like fishguts to me. But what do I know?" As for the hatching, the eggs, the dragons and future riders, he frowns, "I have thought of asking to stand. Everyone is talking about it of course." The barracks are overflowing right? "I guess it's more waiting. I wish...there were other options."
Lujayn purses her lips. "It didn't just happen without cause. Some ruckus at the Gather was all it took, and the missing necklace.. it was wrong of them to immediately blame the islanders. But I have no say in their affairs." Rolling up the straps neatly, as they've been scrubbed and polished beyond the necessary daily care. "Would you like to?" She asks offhandedly, "It's your choice, but also a duty to the Weyr." Even if Island and Weyr are worlds apart, duty is an idea that spans the distance. "What would you choose to do? There are many options, once.. well, hopefully soon." She doesn't have all the answers, unfortunately, but many educated guesses. "I think some people are worried about tossing you out into an unfamiliar world. We want to make sure you get your bearings good and fixed before gallivanting off about Pern."
"And you, that is, the weyr, would rather believe the holders claims? We are a pack of thieves in the weyr's eyes?" Celadion is strangely not on guard or offended by this thought, but it does make him see his care givers/captors in a different light. He starts to move forward, to help with wrapping up those long straps but chuckles when he gets ahold of one edge and finds himself at odds with what to /do/ to help her. "I think I would like to. My parents say it's the right thing to do. Lately I am having trouble doing what is 'right'." As she speaks of tossing them out into the word he looks at her with amusement, "Well, I have heard some different rumors about that."
Lujayn looks more thoughtful. "Well, that can be arranged." Her proposal is apparently more serious than a hypothetical question, nodding in thanks for the help - at least Celadion is keeping the straps out of the sand. "No one's tossing anyone out," She says firmly, setting her neatly folded end on cleaner grass and moving to another portion. "Just fold them up with the buckles out, until you get to the middle ring," Teaching is something that comes easily enough, a blessed distraction from stress or political knots. "It's not an exact science, but it keeps them from dragging all over the place."
Celadion can't help but look torn, the balance between worlds has been one that he has toed all these months without change. He leaves his rod and line against the rock and turns his attention to helping with the straps. Instead of an answer, because it's sticking in his throat he asks, "What sort of things do you do when you're not doing....this." A chin-bob towards the straps. He sneaks a look over at the goldrider in hopes that she's too distracted to notice the attention lingering on her.
Lujayn is busy with the straps, true, but her answer isn't distracted. "During an Interval we still drill at least once every sevenday," She begins, "There's a lot of dragon care involved, but beyond that the duties between goldriders and other colors can be pretty different. We're more involved with the running and upkeep of the Weyr, making sure things are going smoothly with the tithes and everything the Headwoman organizes. Other riders are assigned to duties like hunting, watchriding, transport duty, errands or sweeps.." She ticks them off like clockwork, born and raised to the knowledge. "There are more drills when Thread falls, but that won't be any time soon. Certainly not in our lifetimes." Saying nothing about the Comet Pass, that fluke.
Celadion shakes his head, "No." He folds the straps carefully, "That's not exactly what I meant." Even though he's listened to her remarks in relative silence, if not a little troubled. "I was asking what -you- like to do. What you do when you're not doing these dragonrider things. Surely you have as much free time as anyone else does. Right?"
"Oh," Taken by surprise, Lujayn slows her hands for a moment in thought. "I guess it's like having a child, but I wouldn't know about that directly. Once you Impress, it changes.. I spend a lot of time with Rielsath, even if I'm doing other things like reading or swimming. We fly outside the Weyr for fun, go exploring, take others to see the landscape." See, she hasn't forgotten. "I'm as likely to be in the living cavern cooling my heels at lunchtime as any other person, sure. It's the same, but different."
"Like having a child hm? That doesn't seem so bad. I'd like to foster half dozen of our island children." Celadion says it with sadness, it's obviously not a path he's been able to follow so far. When she mentions the things she enjoys, he can't help but crack a smile and look at her, "I will hold you to this outing." It's a flimsy threat isn't it? "Do you...hunt? You mentioned that before briefly, about the hunting."
Lujayn bundles up the folded straps, giving them a cursory check for extra sand before slinging them over her shoulder. "Hunting? Not often. Our herdbeasts for the dragons are supplied by the beastcraft, and if they're managed well we don't run into shortages. But it's good practice, so everyone gets a rotation." The goldrider stands and dusts her knees, ready to move on to her duties as the sun climbs over the horizon and the Weyr stirs. "Children and dragons, sometimes I can't tell the difference. You'll think about my question?"
"That's too bad. I was hoping someone friendly could show me how to use one of those bows." Celadion shrugs at the last, another minor disappointment. Seeing that she's about to go off to other things he too returns to the discarded rod and line. "I will think about it. Yes. And you will...keep me in mind for a trip beyond?" Perhaps his answer will hinge on that particular experience.
"I didn't say I didn't know how," Lujayn needles the islander, though her expression is light and not petulant in the least. "A hunting trip, how about, since you're keen on it. I'll come find you when my rotation comes around - or you can find me if you make your mind up before that." There's a silent acknowledgement of the reciprocity in the deal, a trip outside of the Weyr for a candidate's duty, but nothing more than a knowing smile. "Have a good day, Celadion."
Where: Lake Shore, HRW
When: Early morning of day 7, month 6, turn 26
The early birds find no worms. People, unlike certain bodies of water, are not lazy. Lu gives Celadion a knot to wrestle with.
Sure, most people are just getting up and at their day, but Celadion is not only up, but he's apparently at work. He stands up to his knees in the water, casting out an old fashioned line from a rough bit of stick. A soft humming floats back up towards the shore, the song likely unfamiliar to weyrfolk rather than exiles.
It's another beautiful morning at High Reaches, though Lujayn is not one of the few early-morning bustlers. She sits higher up on the shore with a bucket of oil on one side and a pile of riding straps on the other, hunched over her meticulous work with single-minded purpose. It's slow going, inch by inch examining every buckle and crease in the wherhide, scrubbing out grit and noting especially weak spots for repair. After a minute the rider leans back to stretch her cramped shoulders, sighing deeply. Tired gray eyes catch on Celadion, a lone figure standing partways out in the lake, then narrow in curiosity. She sets the oil down and takes up a clean rag, approaching the shore to collect rinsewater. "Any bites?" Tired but polite; Lu tries to smile.
It's not as though the sound of someone else down the shore was unexpected, more that the young man was so fixated on his humming and day dreaming while watching the bobby float along the lazy surface. So, when the woman calls out to him, he startles, whirling towards the voice with a sort of panic in his eyes before recovering. "Ah...not much." Covering any embarrassment with a small smile, "I did get a couple small ones, but had to throw them back. Your lake is very lazy."
"It's a lake, I think man-made," Lujayn sums up the predicament with a sympathetic shrug, looking out over the morning stillness, the reflections of a rising sun. "Not your wild ocean." Her tone carries a bit of envy to it. A beat or two of silence, wringing out the cloth and applying it to the places where oil simply won't do on her straps, Lu looks back up from her crouched position. "Did you make that rod yourself?" It's hard to tell whether she's sarcastic or genuinely interested. Mornings do that to some people.
"Right. -Lazy-." Celadion says again, for all the excuses that the woman makes for it. "Men shouldn't pretend to know the will of water and tame it. Look how sad it is here...still. Quiet. Dull. Even the fish don't seem to thrive." Because surely no matter how big the catch would be from the lake, it's fished by dragon and man a like right? The envy though, that makes his eyebrows lift in question, enough to ask, "Did you once live by the sea?" It could explain things. And her question to him makes him chuckle. "Yes. I did. They are easy enough to make. The skill is in the cast and...reading the water."
Lujayn quickly shakes off any animosity. It's too early for getting into petty squabbles, anyhow. "Not made for fishing," Again, she kneels to scrub at the leather, taking out whatever frustrations are running through her mind on the innocent straps, short on words. "The Fort area is close to rivers," Lu sits back, careful to keep her straps out of the dirt. "But up here the ocean is closer than you think. I've spent a lot of time at the shore.." Regarding Celadion with more openness, she continues, "..and I keep hearing your elders talking about 'reading the water'. What's that all about?" The question isn't posed rudely, curiosity getting the better of the junior weyrwoman and pushing the query rather informally.
Celadion watches the scrubbing of the straps as he draws in his line carefully. There's a skill in those rough hands, the way fingers don't get tangled in the line looped in and held taunt. "You could take me to see this place. Couldn't you? Rivers. I have heard they are as powerful as the sea. But, it seems like a..." He censors himself, "Story." Still his dark eyes stay on the straps, "What are you doing to those things? Are they that dirty?" While she regards him, he stands still, dressed in clothes that are still the old style of exiles, worn and rough and his hair still uncut, he's one of the few still holding tight to those old ways. "Reading the water? It's how you can tell if the weather is going to change. If the fish will bite. If your luck is good. But it takes a long time to learn to see it right." There's sadness in his tone, a suggestion that he no longer has such a time to learn these things.
Lujayn nods, gaze distant in reminiscence. "Rivers are powerful, always moving. Their floods are dangerous. But eventually they all lead to the sea.. they lend their power to it, I suppose." That's an admission she's willing to make. "I could take you sometime, yes. To the river or the sea. So many people act like they're imprisoned here, but all they need to do is ask. Truly." She shakes her head, one hand running absently over the newly oiled straps. "These are for my dragon, her harness. We have to inspect them to look for weak spots, to rub out grit that could corrode the buckles. If we didn't, I guarantee you'd see people falling out of the sky left and right." A little roll of her eyes. Because some people are cocky enough to trust in their straps and not hold on themselves. "It's worn here, see," Holding up a particularly cracked leather joint, somewhere where a brass ring connects several straps. "I'll need it repaired before I fly with these, just in case." A genuine smile this time, glad to share knowledge. "So. Can this lake tell you anything about your luck today, or is it still too lazy?"
Celadion yearn for it, with his expression and his voice: The sea. His hands still on the line, he looks at Lujayn, "I would like that. The gather....there were too many people. I..." There's an admission of weakness he's not ready to voice. Better to lean into that promise being dangled, "When?" Perhaps she might show mercy and actually go -now- the tone suggests. But she's working on straps? "You use those to keep yourself on...her?" He may have held other theories about the need for those leather straps. "Yes, I see. And you do all the work on them? The stablehands do all the work for those runner-beast gear. I think that would be a fulfilling job." Vague though, talking about either working with the leather, or working with the beasts. "MMmm, the lake is weary. The dragons and the men take from it and no one gives thanks or asks forgiveness. You are lucky the lake cannot take as the Sea. There would be a price I'm sure."
"It's our responsibility to make sure they're in good repair, but the tanners make the actual repairs." Lujayn quirks a brow. "You want to try holding onto a dragon's neck a hundred feet up in the middle of a turn? Especially on Rielsath, I wouldn't go flying without straps anywhere outside of the Weyr." Her comment suggests that other dragons might be more careful in flight, less likely to accidentally dislodge their riders with joyride maneuvers. "When there's time," The junior weyrwoman doesn't deny him the hope, but neither can she promise a punctual schedule. Instead, she listens to his thoughts on the lake. "Asking forgiveness? From a lake?" What an odd concept. "Isn't that the way nature works, that we maintain it and it provides for us? Orchards, fields, the like."
The dodge from the dragonrider to the date of this trip outside the weyr makes Celadion's mouth tighten. "Right. Another of your dragonriders said the same thing to me. Said they'd take me back to see the fate of our island. I'm sure, 'when there is time' is not likely to materialize." There's anger in his quiet words. The talk of straps is ignored now, he'll not be flying anywhere so it doens't matter. It takes him a moment to cool down enough for civil conversation, using the silence to cast out again in a series of graceful flicks of the long line until the little feathery end settles upon the water to tempt some passing fish. "I don't know. You maintain the land and I don't know much about fields and orchards. I know you don't tame or maintain the sea. Do you...maintain this lake?" Not her in particular, but any weyrfolk.
"I didn't mean your island," Lu is equally tight-lipped, raising some hairs. After a moment she moves on, likewise needing time to cool down for the pleasant exchange to continue. "The sea near the hold, or Fort's river. But not your island. I'm sorry." And it's hard to doubt her sincerity, the woman's tone heavy with regret and empathy. "I never liked being so far from home." Avoiding his stormy black eyes to survey the lake, Lujayn tries to answer with all she knows. "I know long ago the falls were diverted to feed the lake so it doesn't stagnate," She looks up to the diving cliffs where the freshwater splashes down eternally. "And fishers bring some of their smaller catches in to populate it.. that would be why your prizes were so tiny. But Rielsath says there are bigger fish at the bottom, and lots of plant life has taken hold that we can't see." She's comfortable enough to look back up at Celadion, no longer defensive. "It's a different world. I don't think I can fully understand it, ever."
There's still heat in Cela's expression, anger at being captive, and helplessness too. There's no reply to the assurance that she will take him 'somewhere' but it's easy to tell that he's not holding his breath that anything will come for the request. A man who has had his spirit beaten down lurks under the hard outer shell. "Fish that are trapped as well." At least that idea makes him smile in dark humor. "And I think you have to live that life to understand it. Have you met Rilka?" And then he realizes that he's not given introductions. "I'm not used to...giving my name still. I'm Celadion, son of Elders Harton and Velles." Elder names she would know, right?
Lujayn maneuvers around the angry exterior, letting go of the subject until he's ready to talk about it again, if at all. "It is what it is," She concludes, by no means defending the lake: just a lake. "Fish in any lake could be called 'trapped,' but because we put them here it's a problem..?" Maybe another minefield to avoid. Introductions tend to be pretty safe, so the goldrider moves on. "I don't think I've met Rilka, no.. or if I have I don't remember. These days it feels like all I do is introduce myself to newcomers. Sorry for skipping that part," Lu makes a jest at her own expense, "I'm Lujayn, Gold Rielsath's. Junior Weyrwoman." Parent names are generally of little consequence in Weyrs; since Celadion's given his she may as well return the favor. "Daughter of E'syn and Jaia, Fort riders." The greeting ritual is oddly comforting to her, and the up-down emotion of the conversation begins to rise again.
"I guess not. Not a problem that is. Fish are for eating." Celadion says it with amusement, "It hardly seems fair that I point out the unfairness in the life of 'fish'." A white-flag of sorts. "Lujayn. Ah. Well met. That is the right way to say it?" When she in turn gives her heritage he admits, "I thought you might know my parents. You spoke of talking with the elders. I'd like to know what some of those conversations are. What our fate may be." This might not be a safe line of conversation either, but one never knows.
"As far as I can tell, the Hold is not welcoming islanders at thie time," Lujayn's voice is undeniably irritated at those in question, even bitter. "The elders have agreed, as you probably know, that it is the duty of their people to stand for Iovniath's clutch. Jaques and others have volunteered to stand, and more have been searched - that is, selected for candidacy - by our dragons." No specifics are given as to the content of meetings between elders and Weyrleaders, but a summary is safe enough for her tastes. "There are all kinds of opinions flying around. Whether or not to stay here, set out on their own, return to the island. Any opinion you sympathize with, you could find just by asking around. And since you're asking me," Lu adds unabashedly, "I think things will be reconsidered after the eggs hatch." And in the end it comes down to time, more time. When there's time.
Celadion frowns at the news about the setback, "Is that only Highreaches Hold? Interesting, isn't it? That this sort of thing just happened." His eyebrows lift to go along with the skeptical note in his voice. "It smells like fishguts to me. But what do I know?" As for the hatching, the eggs, the dragons and future riders, he frowns, "I have thought of asking to stand. Everyone is talking about it of course." The barracks are overflowing right? "I guess it's more waiting. I wish...there were other options."
Lujayn purses her lips. "It didn't just happen without cause. Some ruckus at the Gather was all it took, and the missing necklace.. it was wrong of them to immediately blame the islanders. But I have no say in their affairs." Rolling up the straps neatly, as they've been scrubbed and polished beyond the necessary daily care. "Would you like to?" She asks offhandedly, "It's your choice, but also a duty to the Weyr." Even if Island and Weyr are worlds apart, duty is an idea that spans the distance. "What would you choose to do? There are many options, once.. well, hopefully soon." She doesn't have all the answers, unfortunately, but many educated guesses. "I think some people are worried about tossing you out into an unfamiliar world. We want to make sure you get your bearings good and fixed before gallivanting off about Pern."
"And you, that is, the weyr, would rather believe the holders claims? We are a pack of thieves in the weyr's eyes?" Celadion is strangely not on guard or offended by this thought, but it does make him see his care givers/captors in a different light. He starts to move forward, to help with wrapping up those long straps but chuckles when he gets ahold of one edge and finds himself at odds with what to /do/ to help her. "I think I would like to. My parents say it's the right thing to do. Lately I am having trouble doing what is 'right'." As she speaks of tossing them out into the word he looks at her with amusement, "Well, I have heard some different rumors about that."
Lujayn looks more thoughtful. "Well, that can be arranged." Her proposal is apparently more serious than a hypothetical question, nodding in thanks for the help - at least Celadion is keeping the straps out of the sand. "No one's tossing anyone out," She says firmly, setting her neatly folded end on cleaner grass and moving to another portion. "Just fold them up with the buckles out, until you get to the middle ring," Teaching is something that comes easily enough, a blessed distraction from stress or political knots. "It's not an exact science, but it keeps them from dragging all over the place."
Celadion can't help but look torn, the balance between worlds has been one that he has toed all these months without change. He leaves his rod and line against the rock and turns his attention to helping with the straps. Instead of an answer, because it's sticking in his throat he asks, "What sort of things do you do when you're not doing....this." A chin-bob towards the straps. He sneaks a look over at the goldrider in hopes that she's too distracted to notice the attention lingering on her.
Lujayn is busy with the straps, true, but her answer isn't distracted. "During an Interval we still drill at least once every sevenday," She begins, "There's a lot of dragon care involved, but beyond that the duties between goldriders and other colors can be pretty different. We're more involved with the running and upkeep of the Weyr, making sure things are going smoothly with the tithes and everything the Headwoman organizes. Other riders are assigned to duties like hunting, watchriding, transport duty, errands or sweeps.." She ticks them off like clockwork, born and raised to the knowledge. "There are more drills when Thread falls, but that won't be any time soon. Certainly not in our lifetimes." Saying nothing about the Comet Pass, that fluke.
Celadion shakes his head, "No." He folds the straps carefully, "That's not exactly what I meant." Even though he's listened to her remarks in relative silence, if not a little troubled. "I was asking what -you- like to do. What you do when you're not doing these dragonrider things. Surely you have as much free time as anyone else does. Right?"
"Oh," Taken by surprise, Lujayn slows her hands for a moment in thought. "I guess it's like having a child, but I wouldn't know about that directly. Once you Impress, it changes.. I spend a lot of time with Rielsath, even if I'm doing other things like reading or swimming. We fly outside the Weyr for fun, go exploring, take others to see the landscape." See, she hasn't forgotten. "I'm as likely to be in the living cavern cooling my heels at lunchtime as any other person, sure. It's the same, but different."
"Like having a child hm? That doesn't seem so bad. I'd like to foster half dozen of our island children." Celadion says it with sadness, it's obviously not a path he's been able to follow so far. When she mentions the things she enjoys, he can't help but crack a smile and look at her, "I will hold you to this outing." It's a flimsy threat isn't it? "Do you...hunt? You mentioned that before briefly, about the hunting."
Lujayn bundles up the folded straps, giving them a cursory check for extra sand before slinging them over her shoulder. "Hunting? Not often. Our herdbeasts for the dragons are supplied by the beastcraft, and if they're managed well we don't run into shortages. But it's good practice, so everyone gets a rotation." The goldrider stands and dusts her knees, ready to move on to her duties as the sun climbs over the horizon and the Weyr stirs. "Children and dragons, sometimes I can't tell the difference. You'll think about my question?"
"That's too bad. I was hoping someone friendly could show me how to use one of those bows." Celadion shrugs at the last, another minor disappointment. Seeing that she's about to go off to other things he too returns to the discarded rod and line. "I will think about it. Yes. And you will...keep me in mind for a trip beyond?" Perhaps his answer will hinge on that particular experience.
"I didn't say I didn't know how," Lujayn needles the islander, though her expression is light and not petulant in the least. "A hunting trip, how about, since you're keen on it. I'll come find you when my rotation comes around - or you can find me if you make your mind up before that." There's a silent acknowledgement of the reciprocity in the deal, a trip outside of the Weyr for a candidate's duty, but nothing more than a knowing smile. "Have a good day, Celadion."