Hot sands lead to heated arguments
The galleries provide more than adequate seating for guests who have been invited to watch a hatching. There are ten tiers, that arch in a semi-circle from the southwest to west side of the black stone cavern. Stairs lead down to the entrances, which are visible beyond the large gaping opening leading to the Senior Queen's Weyr. You have a view of the Hatching Sands as well as a clear view of the ledges up above you.
Obvious exits:
Main Entrance Sands
A candidate in the hatching galleries is not an unusual sight. Fayre's managed to make the pastime a little odd, though, as she has two buckets and a peeler with her. One is full of tubers while the other is gradually being filled by peels as the candidate goes about her chores. Softly, the young woman hums a popular tune, her foot tapping along to the rhythm.
And if there was anything that was a more usual sight than one Candidate in the hatching galleries, then it was two in the hatching galleries! Looking rather relaxed, though still with a slightly sweaty appearance, Basquirin walks into the galleries through the entrance from the bowl. The 'Reachian lad smiles at the other Candidate, and says, "Hullo, Fayre," and looks at the eggs for a moment, before having to give the young woman a double take. "Peeling tubers, here?" A smirk. How interesting.
Fayre looks up as Basquirin greets her, a smile lighting up her face as she notices the familiar white knot and face. "Howdy, Basquirin! What brings you here? Egg watchin'?" Her smile widens when she glances down at her buckets and tubers. "Ah, yeah. Figured I'd take my chores here. I see enough of the living caverns, y'know? 'specially 'cause I spent all my days there before I was a candidate, too." She nods towards the eggs as she begins to take up her peeling again. "Any favourites?"
"Of course! What else would I be here for?" Basq replies, beaming brightly before he chuckles. "Though I guess you found something else." The lad grins, and nods. "Yes, I see. They can get dull after a while, 'specially living in a place like this," he smiles, before turning back to the eggs. "I haven't been able to decide on any one favorite, yet. I thought that getting down there and touching them would help me," he shakes his head, "instead, it made me more amazed by all of the eggs, being able to see them up close like that."
"They certainly are colourful this time around. The weyrlings will have nice egg shards to keep. Y'know, 'cause newly impressed like to collect pieces of their lifemate's egg?" Fayre remarks casually, her eyes focused on her current task. Wouldn't be fun if she cut her finger, now would it? "I'm with you. Don't have any particular favourites." Still, she waves her peeler towards the More Than A Stick Egg. "I think I like that one particularly, though. It seems to be trying so very hard."
"Yeah, so I've heard" Basquirin comments, his eyes glazing over a little as he thinks about something, before his attention turns back to Fayre. "Wonder if I'll be one of them," he mutters, though he doesn't say it as if he's expecting any sort of response. When Fayre gestures with the peeler, his gaze moves back towards the More than a Stick egg, and he nods. "Yeah, I thought the same thing."
Fayre shrugs casually as she drops her fully peeled tuber into a bucket and plucks up a fresh one to start on. "Who knows. I'm oddly calm...haven't really been thinking about the hatching itself, y'know? I think keepin' busy with my chores has worn me out so I don't have time to actually think about being a candidate." Her peeling hand suddenly slips and she nearly cuts her hand that's holding the tuber, but not quite. A darkness suddenly casts over her eyes and the young woman's face is marred by a frown. "I've had enough time to worry about gettin' mauled, though. Seen too many bloody hatchings on these sands."
Basquirin chuckles, and replies, "you can't /not/ be thinking about the hatching." The 'Reachian lad scans the eggs again, a slightly nervous look on his face. "I do know how you feel about the chores. However, my mind does often wonder to what will happen..." he trails off, and then grimaces. "Ugh, don't remind me. I've heard the people here talk about the maulings more than the hatchings themselves!" Basq sighs, and looks back at Fayre. "We'll just have to jump out of the way, then."
Fayre winks at the gangly young teenager. "Aww, don't worry Basq. It's alright if I call you that, yeah? I'll keep an eye out for you on the sands. My duty as your elder." Perhaps a bit put off by her near-cut, the candidate abandons her peeling work for now and drops the vegetable and tool into one of her buckets. "Think I've earned a break. And sure I can avoid thinkin' about the hatchin'! When my mind isn't filled with chores and exhaustion, it's worrying about keeping my bets and gamblin' book straight. It's a lotta work, y'know." She frowns and scratches her cheek, adding, "Er, not that I'm /avoiding/ thinking about it, necessarily."
"Of course you can call me that," Basquirin replies, adding, "I'm used to it, anyways. It's a lot easier to say," the former stablehand grins. "Well, that's very nice of you... we'll just keep an eye out for each other then. All of us." Nod. Nod. He chuckles a little at the impromptu break, and says, "Oh, so you're just that busy, then?" He looks back down to the Sands, and shakes his head. "It'd be pretty hard to purposely avoid thinking about it, I think."
"I dunno. It's just...odd, thinkin' about it in reference to me. 'cause I've watched so many for so long, but never actually considered being down there myself." Fayre muses softly, suddenly putting a hand to the left side of her chest. "Ack! And there my heart goes, beatin' like crazy. See what happens when I start ponderin' it?" She shakes her head back and forth a few times, frowning. "How old are ya, anyway? I mean, this is my first clutch I've ever stood for, but I'm pretty old--well, old as far as candidates go--so I'd probably only be allowed to stand for one more after this. If I got searched again, I mean."
Basq's eyes are back to the eggs, wondering about the hatchlings that are inside. "I see," he chuckles, and then looks back over to the young woman as she acks about. "We're all nervous," Basquirin explains, and grins. "It makes me nervous just thinkin' about it, too," he readily admits, "and everyone else, too." Beat. "15 and a few months. I have time yet," he grins at the thought.
Fayre nods slowly, chewing on her lip as she gazes at the seventeen eggs below. "Yup, you got time then. What were ya before comin' here, anyway? Oh! And how's the Istan heat treatin' ya? You're from Reaches, right?" Speaking of which, the young woman swipes a few sweaty strands of hair out of her eyes and begins to fan herself with her hands. "Tropic weather and the heat of the hatching sands sure make it steamy in here. Hope no one faints when the eggs hatch, eh? Face plantin' into the black sands wouldn't be good for anyone."
"A stablehand," Basquirin replies, a certain amount of manageable pride in his voice. "Well, I'm somewhat used to it now, I think." As he says this, though, he wipes some sweat from his brow, "at the very least, I don't want to hide in the caverns like I did for my first sevenday here." He chuckles, and asks, "you'd catch me if I fainted, right?" He explains, "It's very hot down there, and the hatching..." he sighs, just thinking about the event. "Oh shards, now you got me goin'."
"Eww! So like...muckin' stuff? I like runners, but not what comes outta their rears. I'll leave that stuff to you. Well, I've had to do some of it, bein' a candidate and all. Euch." Fayre bursts out, Basquirin's note of pride clearly passing her by. "I'd certainly /try/ to catch you, but I ain't guaranteeing anythin'. Don't want you to wake up with a burnt face and start accusing me of not savin' ya, y'know?" She reaches out to give the ex-stablehand a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Hey, don't you worry about it. They got healers and riders on standby to take care of anything that happens, from kids throwin' up to fainting to gettin' mauled."
"Well, all right." Basq says, a little bit more comforted by the idea of healers on standby, but still nervous about the event. Who wouldn't be. He then grins a little, as he goes on about being a stablehand. "Being a stablehand is more than just mucking. You have feeding, and taking care of the beasts themselves, and organizing tack... lots of stuff, really," Basquirin explains, and then spaces out briefly in his own thoughts before coming back to reality. "As for mucking, it's not that bad once you get used to it, really!"
Xielar walks up from the hatching grounds entrance.
Xielar has arrived.
"I guess feeding the runners ain't so bad, as long as they don't bite your fingers off or somethin' like that. I like my fingers. Ten is a good number." Fayre responds uncertainly, her mouth still pulled into a slight grimace. The two are sitting in the galleries, taking part in the common pastime of egg watching. In front of Fayre are two buckets; one with tubers, both peeled and unpeeled, and another with the abandoned peels and peeler. "I'd never get used to muckin', thank you very much. Guess weyrlings have to do it a lot though, eh? With their dragons. Maybe that's why they make us do it. Hmm."
"Aww, you mean you don't like nine? Or eight? Or eleven?" Basquirin comes back around, playfully teasing the other Candidate with a chuckle. The 'Reachian is just standing there, his gaze occasionally scanning the hatching grounds to look at the eggs as the two of them converse. "Yes, that would make the most sense, unless there's something they're not telling us," he laughs, before saying, "Nah. I've talked to some Weyrlings before, back home. That's gotta be why."
Xielar walks up the steps two at a time, seemingly in a rather good mood. He blinks as he arrives, seeing both Basquirin and Fayre. "Hey you two," Xie remarks. "If I had known you wanted to make a trip to the galleries I would have come, you know!" The candidate sighs and walks to the pair, sitting down by them. "What're you talking about?" he asks, curious.
Fayre stares at her hands for a few moments as if counting up her fingers to make sure there are indeed ten of them. "I heard that a few turns back, one of the Wingleaders had eleven toes. Six on her left foot, y'see. Isn't that odd?" The young woman says in a hushed, gossipy tone. "Don't know the name of the rider, though. But that's what someone told me in the quarters, and why would they lie?" She waves her definitely five-fingered right hand at Xielar, a smile lighting up her face. "Ah! H'lo, Xielar. Er, talking about fingers. And how I like having all ten, 'cause I don't want runners to bite off any of mine. How're your chores going today?"
"Yes, we're talking about losing fingers, or maybe having too many," Basquirin confirms Fayre's statement, and nods towards Xielar. He turns back to the young woman, and says, "And that's just very odd, what you said." He chuckles, and says, "Well, I still have all of my fingers, don't I?" He says with a wink, before turning back to Xielar. "Yeah, I was going to tell you, but I decided not to." He mentions, though it's pretty obvious that the boy is joking here.
Xielar sighs, saying, "Well, they're not as good as Lord Afternoon Off's, here." He nods in the direction of Basquirin before shrugging. "I'm assisting the elders today. And then I got custodial later on..." he replies back to Fayre, more serious. "I don't know why I keep getting custodial duties. I had it yesterday too!" He looks at his hands and shrugs back at Basquirin, saying, "You seem pretty normal to me... you know, for someone from High Reaches."
Fayre gestures towards her buckets. "I had food prep, as ya can see. Since I'm good with all the folk in the kitchens I managed to wheedle my way into being able to do it here. Hard to say no to your ex-boss, y'know?" She winks cheerfully before nudging her work under the bench to clear a path, should Xielar or Basquirin want to walk past her to sit down. "Ah! I love elder duty. They tell the most interesting stories sometimes." A teasing grin forms on her face and she adds, "Maybe they've seen the state of your cot and think you're too messy, so they keep makin' ya clean stuff up to get it into your head. Ah! That reminds me. One of these days I'm going to poke you awake with a stick. Hard. Do you realize how much you snore?!"
Basquirin grins innocently, and retorts, "well, what can I say? I got lucky!" The Candidate frowns a little at Xie, and says, "so, are you saying that people from High Reaches generally /aren't/ normal?" The boy snorts, before turning back to Fayre. "They tell you stories? They must like you!" He smiles, and then yawns. "Well, I think I'm going to go enjoy my afternoon off, go take a good nap." He winks, and turns around to leave.
Xielar grumbles back at Fayre, telling her: "For the last time, I do NOT snore!" He shakes his head and says, "You can't prove it either, so there." He sighs and shakes his head as he whines. "Elder duty can be fun at times, but sometimes it's not. I had to give some old guy a sponge bath earlier, and let me tell you, the thought of having a sponge bath or giving one to the Master Vintress is just -so- totally out the weyr now. There's no way I could do it without thinking about having given one to Emero." He shudders at the thought and then blinks as he sees Basquirin leave. "Shells," he tells Fayre. "Hhe takes it too personally! It's not like I think he's strange or something. He's just from Reaches. Besides, he's my best friend!"
Basquirin walks to the hatching grounds entrance.
Basquirin has left.
"I tell them stories in return, so it's fair." Fayre calls to the departing candidate with a wave. "Hey, you're /asleep/ when you snore. How could you possibly know, hmm? And to think, I purposefully took the cot next to ya. Figured I'd keep an eye out for you and everythin'. All I get for it is nice dark circles under my eyes. Huzzah." She blows a strand of hair out of her eyes after her lacklustre cheer. "Aww, don't worry about him. I doubt he was really offended. I'd try not to insult other Weyrs, though...particularly when our new Weyrleader is from there." The young woman reaches out to tweak the young teen's nose. "Gotta learn some etiquette, m'dear."
Xielar snorts back at Fayre in response to her remarks to him. "Faranth, Fayre," he replies back angrily. "I am not some kid that you need to protect!" The teenager sighs in frustration and shakes his head, saying, "I would have thought you, of all people, would understand that by now." He shakes his head again, saying, "I don't snore. And even if I did, it wouldn't be that loud." He snorts again, too, as he hears her last remarks, answering the other candidate back with, "I don't care about etiquette. Why should I?"
Fayre folds her arms unhappily and aims a stern glare at Xielar. "See? That proves that you need protectin', right there. If you don't think etiquette is important, then I gotta keep watchin' over you. Bein' a rider means whatever you do will reflect on the Weyr. Don't ya see?" She sighs and throws her arms up in frustration. "I know you're not a kid, dear. But you're not an adult either." The young woman can't help it; she just has to add on, "And you do snore."
"And don't call me dear!" Xie replies back, clearly frustrated with Fayre. "No one would ever look to me as a reflection of the weyr anyways," Xielar tells her. "I'm just a dock worker. I mean, I love Ista and I'll tell anyone who'll hear me how great it is, but to look at me and think I'm a reflection of the weyr I live in? That's just silly, Fayre." The candidate sighs, still appearing angry as he looks out at the eggs. It seems to calm him down a little, at least. "I'm not a rider," the teenager tells the other candidate plainly. "If I end up Impressing and somehow lasting through weyrlinghood and become a Rider, then yes, I'll likely have to learn a little etiquette." His bluish-gray gaze shifts from the eggs to Fayre finally, telling her: "But until that actually happens? I'm just a dock worker who just happens to be a candidate."
Fayre's cheeks begin to puff out and turn an angry shade of red. "An' what's so wrong with calling you dear? It's just a sign of affection. Was just trying to be nice. When did that become a crime, huh?" Her white-knuckled hands grip the edge of the bench she's sitting on and the candidate looks torn between angrily getting to her feet or remaining where she is. "I know you're not a rider. But bein' a candidate means a dragon thought you could be, yeah? I'm only trying to make sure you're prepared, dea--pardon me. Xielar."
Xielar growls under his breath in what sounds like either anger or hunger. Considering Xielar, maybe it's a little bit of both. The candidate just shakes his head at Fayre's remarks, telling her: "I don't -want- affection. At least not -your- affection." The candidate very nearly looks like he is about to retract the statement when he hears her last remark, letting out a sharp grunt and another reply flies out of his mouth, "I'm prepared enough with everyone else thinking I need to be coddled or some such thing! I don't need it from my friends, or people who I -thought- were my friends!"
Yup, it's decided. Fayre jumps to her feet and points a wavering, accusing finger at Xielar. "Don't you know what friendship /is/? It's people looking out for each other!" Her right foot taps anxiously and she pauses for a few moments to collect herself, but her teeth remain tightly clenched. Finally: "I'm not /coddlin'/ you. I'm only tryin' to help you. Everyone needs help, y'know." Attempting a peace offering, she slowly reaches out a hand to try and grip his shoulder. "Faranth knows I need help sometimes. Who else is gonna watch my back on the sands, eh?"
Aidra walks up from the hatching grounds entrance.
Aidra has arrived.
There's a moment where Xielar clearly looks like he's debating spitting off another vehement remark. For a brief moment, anger seems to well up in his eyes. The candidate is seated while Fayre seems to be standing, gripping Xie's shoulder. They both seem to be angry at one another. Xielar, clearly moreso than Fayre at the moment. But he's not saying anything. Not for a long time does he even blink. "Fine," the candidate finally replies back to Fayre neutrally, much of his former heat seemingly diminished. "You can count on me to watch your back on the sands."
After a few tense, thoughtful moments, Fayre lets go of Xielar's shoulder and sits back down on the bench. A smile returns to her face and she replies, "Good. I'll watch out for any sharp talons and teeth coming your way too, then." Uncertainly, she continues, "We're still friends, yeah? I mean, you can only get so mad at you for tryin' to watch out for ya." Her hand lifts up, as if she's about to try and ruffle the ex-dockworker's hair, but she hastily changes direction and instead pats down her own black hair. Ahem. Yes.
Aidra ambles up into the galleries though she pauses, peering over at the tableau spread out before her consisting of an angry Fayre and Xielar. "Uh... Am I intruding on something?" She's still standing somewhere near the exit, as though to make it easier for her to leave if the two wish. Fidget, fidget.
Xielar watches Fayre, the gambler receiving his undivided attention whether she wants it or not. Aidra doesn't even seem to be noticed for now. "Friends," Xielar remarks, once again, neutrally. "Sure." His eyes narrow at her hand lifting up, as if anticipating a hair-tousling. As she instead pats her own hair down, Xie finally notices Aidra, looking visibly relieved. "Hi Aidra," Xielar greets her. "... no, nothing at all."
Fayre fidgets with her sarong, perhaps uncomfortable with all this strange neutrality she's getting from Xielar. Distractedly, she notices the entrance of Aidra and waves. She puts on what is hopefully a polite smile, "Oh, no no! Not intruding at all. Hatching galleries are free for anyone to visit, neh? C'mon in and lookit the eggs!" At the same time, she's getting to her feet again and picks up her two buckets full of tubers. "But I better get this stuffback to the kitchens. Don't want to abuse their kindness for lettin' me do my food prep here." One of the buckets is wiggled in lieu of a wave before the candidate heads off towards the bowl.
Obvious exits:
Main Entrance Sands
A candidate in the hatching galleries is not an unusual sight. Fayre's managed to make the pastime a little odd, though, as she has two buckets and a peeler with her. One is full of tubers while the other is gradually being filled by peels as the candidate goes about her chores. Softly, the young woman hums a popular tune, her foot tapping along to the rhythm.
And if there was anything that was a more usual sight than one Candidate in the hatching galleries, then it was two in the hatching galleries! Looking rather relaxed, though still with a slightly sweaty appearance, Basquirin walks into the galleries through the entrance from the bowl. The 'Reachian lad smiles at the other Candidate, and says, "Hullo, Fayre," and looks at the eggs for a moment, before having to give the young woman a double take. "Peeling tubers, here?" A smirk. How interesting.
Fayre looks up as Basquirin greets her, a smile lighting up her face as she notices the familiar white knot and face. "Howdy, Basquirin! What brings you here? Egg watchin'?" Her smile widens when she glances down at her buckets and tubers. "Ah, yeah. Figured I'd take my chores here. I see enough of the living caverns, y'know? 'specially 'cause I spent all my days there before I was a candidate, too." She nods towards the eggs as she begins to take up her peeling again. "Any favourites?"
"Of course! What else would I be here for?" Basq replies, beaming brightly before he chuckles. "Though I guess you found something else." The lad grins, and nods. "Yes, I see. They can get dull after a while, 'specially living in a place like this," he smiles, before turning back to the eggs. "I haven't been able to decide on any one favorite, yet. I thought that getting down there and touching them would help me," he shakes his head, "instead, it made me more amazed by all of the eggs, being able to see them up close like that."
"They certainly are colourful this time around. The weyrlings will have nice egg shards to keep. Y'know, 'cause newly impressed like to collect pieces of their lifemate's egg?" Fayre remarks casually, her eyes focused on her current task. Wouldn't be fun if she cut her finger, now would it? "I'm with you. Don't have any particular favourites." Still, she waves her peeler towards the More Than A Stick Egg. "I think I like that one particularly, though. It seems to be trying so very hard."
"Yeah, so I've heard" Basquirin comments, his eyes glazing over a little as he thinks about something, before his attention turns back to Fayre. "Wonder if I'll be one of them," he mutters, though he doesn't say it as if he's expecting any sort of response. When Fayre gestures with the peeler, his gaze moves back towards the More than a Stick egg, and he nods. "Yeah, I thought the same thing."
Fayre shrugs casually as she drops her fully peeled tuber into a bucket and plucks up a fresh one to start on. "Who knows. I'm oddly calm...haven't really been thinking about the hatching itself, y'know? I think keepin' busy with my chores has worn me out so I don't have time to actually think about being a candidate." Her peeling hand suddenly slips and she nearly cuts her hand that's holding the tuber, but not quite. A darkness suddenly casts over her eyes and the young woman's face is marred by a frown. "I've had enough time to worry about gettin' mauled, though. Seen too many bloody hatchings on these sands."
Basquirin chuckles, and replies, "you can't /not/ be thinking about the hatching." The 'Reachian lad scans the eggs again, a slightly nervous look on his face. "I do know how you feel about the chores. However, my mind does often wonder to what will happen..." he trails off, and then grimaces. "Ugh, don't remind me. I've heard the people here talk about the maulings more than the hatchings themselves!" Basq sighs, and looks back at Fayre. "We'll just have to jump out of the way, then."
Fayre winks at the gangly young teenager. "Aww, don't worry Basq. It's alright if I call you that, yeah? I'll keep an eye out for you on the sands. My duty as your elder." Perhaps a bit put off by her near-cut, the candidate abandons her peeling work for now and drops the vegetable and tool into one of her buckets. "Think I've earned a break. And sure I can avoid thinkin' about the hatchin'! When my mind isn't filled with chores and exhaustion, it's worrying about keeping my bets and gamblin' book straight. It's a lotta work, y'know." She frowns and scratches her cheek, adding, "Er, not that I'm /avoiding/ thinking about it, necessarily."
"Of course you can call me that," Basquirin replies, adding, "I'm used to it, anyways. It's a lot easier to say," the former stablehand grins. "Well, that's very nice of you... we'll just keep an eye out for each other then. All of us." Nod. Nod. He chuckles a little at the impromptu break, and says, "Oh, so you're just that busy, then?" He looks back down to the Sands, and shakes his head. "It'd be pretty hard to purposely avoid thinking about it, I think."
"I dunno. It's just...odd, thinkin' about it in reference to me. 'cause I've watched so many for so long, but never actually considered being down there myself." Fayre muses softly, suddenly putting a hand to the left side of her chest. "Ack! And there my heart goes, beatin' like crazy. See what happens when I start ponderin' it?" She shakes her head back and forth a few times, frowning. "How old are ya, anyway? I mean, this is my first clutch I've ever stood for, but I'm pretty old--well, old as far as candidates go--so I'd probably only be allowed to stand for one more after this. If I got searched again, I mean."
Basq's eyes are back to the eggs, wondering about the hatchlings that are inside. "I see," he chuckles, and then looks back over to the young woman as she acks about. "We're all nervous," Basquirin explains, and grins. "It makes me nervous just thinkin' about it, too," he readily admits, "and everyone else, too." Beat. "15 and a few months. I have time yet," he grins at the thought.
Fayre nods slowly, chewing on her lip as she gazes at the seventeen eggs below. "Yup, you got time then. What were ya before comin' here, anyway? Oh! And how's the Istan heat treatin' ya? You're from Reaches, right?" Speaking of which, the young woman swipes a few sweaty strands of hair out of her eyes and begins to fan herself with her hands. "Tropic weather and the heat of the hatching sands sure make it steamy in here. Hope no one faints when the eggs hatch, eh? Face plantin' into the black sands wouldn't be good for anyone."
"A stablehand," Basquirin replies, a certain amount of manageable pride in his voice. "Well, I'm somewhat used to it now, I think." As he says this, though, he wipes some sweat from his brow, "at the very least, I don't want to hide in the caverns like I did for my first sevenday here." He chuckles, and asks, "you'd catch me if I fainted, right?" He explains, "It's very hot down there, and the hatching..." he sighs, just thinking about the event. "Oh shards, now you got me goin'."
"Eww! So like...muckin' stuff? I like runners, but not what comes outta their rears. I'll leave that stuff to you. Well, I've had to do some of it, bein' a candidate and all. Euch." Fayre bursts out, Basquirin's note of pride clearly passing her by. "I'd certainly /try/ to catch you, but I ain't guaranteeing anythin'. Don't want you to wake up with a burnt face and start accusing me of not savin' ya, y'know?" She reaches out to give the ex-stablehand a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Hey, don't you worry about it. They got healers and riders on standby to take care of anything that happens, from kids throwin' up to fainting to gettin' mauled."
"Well, all right." Basq says, a little bit more comforted by the idea of healers on standby, but still nervous about the event. Who wouldn't be. He then grins a little, as he goes on about being a stablehand. "Being a stablehand is more than just mucking. You have feeding, and taking care of the beasts themselves, and organizing tack... lots of stuff, really," Basquirin explains, and then spaces out briefly in his own thoughts before coming back to reality. "As for mucking, it's not that bad once you get used to it, really!"
Xielar walks up from the hatching grounds entrance.
Xielar has arrived.
"I guess feeding the runners ain't so bad, as long as they don't bite your fingers off or somethin' like that. I like my fingers. Ten is a good number." Fayre responds uncertainly, her mouth still pulled into a slight grimace. The two are sitting in the galleries, taking part in the common pastime of egg watching. In front of Fayre are two buckets; one with tubers, both peeled and unpeeled, and another with the abandoned peels and peeler. "I'd never get used to muckin', thank you very much. Guess weyrlings have to do it a lot though, eh? With their dragons. Maybe that's why they make us do it. Hmm."
"Aww, you mean you don't like nine? Or eight? Or eleven?" Basquirin comes back around, playfully teasing the other Candidate with a chuckle. The 'Reachian is just standing there, his gaze occasionally scanning the hatching grounds to look at the eggs as the two of them converse. "Yes, that would make the most sense, unless there's something they're not telling us," he laughs, before saying, "Nah. I've talked to some Weyrlings before, back home. That's gotta be why."
Xielar walks up the steps two at a time, seemingly in a rather good mood. He blinks as he arrives, seeing both Basquirin and Fayre. "Hey you two," Xie remarks. "If I had known you wanted to make a trip to the galleries I would have come, you know!" The candidate sighs and walks to the pair, sitting down by them. "What're you talking about?" he asks, curious.
Fayre stares at her hands for a few moments as if counting up her fingers to make sure there are indeed ten of them. "I heard that a few turns back, one of the Wingleaders had eleven toes. Six on her left foot, y'see. Isn't that odd?" The young woman says in a hushed, gossipy tone. "Don't know the name of the rider, though. But that's what someone told me in the quarters, and why would they lie?" She waves her definitely five-fingered right hand at Xielar, a smile lighting up her face. "Ah! H'lo, Xielar. Er, talking about fingers. And how I like having all ten, 'cause I don't want runners to bite off any of mine. How're your chores going today?"
"Yes, we're talking about losing fingers, or maybe having too many," Basquirin confirms Fayre's statement, and nods towards Xielar. He turns back to the young woman, and says, "And that's just very odd, what you said." He chuckles, and says, "Well, I still have all of my fingers, don't I?" He says with a wink, before turning back to Xielar. "Yeah, I was going to tell you, but I decided not to." He mentions, though it's pretty obvious that the boy is joking here.
Xielar sighs, saying, "Well, they're not as good as Lord Afternoon Off's, here." He nods in the direction of Basquirin before shrugging. "I'm assisting the elders today. And then I got custodial later on..." he replies back to Fayre, more serious. "I don't know why I keep getting custodial duties. I had it yesterday too!" He looks at his hands and shrugs back at Basquirin, saying, "You seem pretty normal to me... you know, for someone from High Reaches."
Fayre gestures towards her buckets. "I had food prep, as ya can see. Since I'm good with all the folk in the kitchens I managed to wheedle my way into being able to do it here. Hard to say no to your ex-boss, y'know?" She winks cheerfully before nudging her work under the bench to clear a path, should Xielar or Basquirin want to walk past her to sit down. "Ah! I love elder duty. They tell the most interesting stories sometimes." A teasing grin forms on her face and she adds, "Maybe they've seen the state of your cot and think you're too messy, so they keep makin' ya clean stuff up to get it into your head. Ah! That reminds me. One of these days I'm going to poke you awake with a stick. Hard. Do you realize how much you snore?!"
Basquirin grins innocently, and retorts, "well, what can I say? I got lucky!" The Candidate frowns a little at Xie, and says, "so, are you saying that people from High Reaches generally /aren't/ normal?" The boy snorts, before turning back to Fayre. "They tell you stories? They must like you!" He smiles, and then yawns. "Well, I think I'm going to go enjoy my afternoon off, go take a good nap." He winks, and turns around to leave.
Xielar grumbles back at Fayre, telling her: "For the last time, I do NOT snore!" He shakes his head and says, "You can't prove it either, so there." He sighs and shakes his head as he whines. "Elder duty can be fun at times, but sometimes it's not. I had to give some old guy a sponge bath earlier, and let me tell you, the thought of having a sponge bath or giving one to the Master Vintress is just -so- totally out the weyr now. There's no way I could do it without thinking about having given one to Emero." He shudders at the thought and then blinks as he sees Basquirin leave. "Shells," he tells Fayre. "Hhe takes it too personally! It's not like I think he's strange or something. He's just from Reaches. Besides, he's my best friend!"
Basquirin walks to the hatching grounds entrance.
Basquirin has left.
"I tell them stories in return, so it's fair." Fayre calls to the departing candidate with a wave. "Hey, you're /asleep/ when you snore. How could you possibly know, hmm? And to think, I purposefully took the cot next to ya. Figured I'd keep an eye out for you and everythin'. All I get for it is nice dark circles under my eyes. Huzzah." She blows a strand of hair out of her eyes after her lacklustre cheer. "Aww, don't worry about him. I doubt he was really offended. I'd try not to insult other Weyrs, though...particularly when our new Weyrleader is from there." The young woman reaches out to tweak the young teen's nose. "Gotta learn some etiquette, m'dear."
Xielar snorts back at Fayre in response to her remarks to him. "Faranth, Fayre," he replies back angrily. "I am not some kid that you need to protect!" The teenager sighs in frustration and shakes his head, saying, "I would have thought you, of all people, would understand that by now." He shakes his head again, saying, "I don't snore. And even if I did, it wouldn't be that loud." He snorts again, too, as he hears her last remarks, answering the other candidate back with, "I don't care about etiquette. Why should I?"
Fayre folds her arms unhappily and aims a stern glare at Xielar. "See? That proves that you need protectin', right there. If you don't think etiquette is important, then I gotta keep watchin' over you. Bein' a rider means whatever you do will reflect on the Weyr. Don't ya see?" She sighs and throws her arms up in frustration. "I know you're not a kid, dear. But you're not an adult either." The young woman can't help it; she just has to add on, "And you do snore."
"And don't call me dear!" Xie replies back, clearly frustrated with Fayre. "No one would ever look to me as a reflection of the weyr anyways," Xielar tells her. "I'm just a dock worker. I mean, I love Ista and I'll tell anyone who'll hear me how great it is, but to look at me and think I'm a reflection of the weyr I live in? That's just silly, Fayre." The candidate sighs, still appearing angry as he looks out at the eggs. It seems to calm him down a little, at least. "I'm not a rider," the teenager tells the other candidate plainly. "If I end up Impressing and somehow lasting through weyrlinghood and become a Rider, then yes, I'll likely have to learn a little etiquette." His bluish-gray gaze shifts from the eggs to Fayre finally, telling her: "But until that actually happens? I'm just a dock worker who just happens to be a candidate."
Fayre's cheeks begin to puff out and turn an angry shade of red. "An' what's so wrong with calling you dear? It's just a sign of affection. Was just trying to be nice. When did that become a crime, huh?" Her white-knuckled hands grip the edge of the bench she's sitting on and the candidate looks torn between angrily getting to her feet or remaining where she is. "I know you're not a rider. But bein' a candidate means a dragon thought you could be, yeah? I'm only trying to make sure you're prepared, dea--pardon me. Xielar."
Xielar growls under his breath in what sounds like either anger or hunger. Considering Xielar, maybe it's a little bit of both. The candidate just shakes his head at Fayre's remarks, telling her: "I don't -want- affection. At least not -your- affection." The candidate very nearly looks like he is about to retract the statement when he hears her last remark, letting out a sharp grunt and another reply flies out of his mouth, "I'm prepared enough with everyone else thinking I need to be coddled or some such thing! I don't need it from my friends, or people who I -thought- were my friends!"
Yup, it's decided. Fayre jumps to her feet and points a wavering, accusing finger at Xielar. "Don't you know what friendship /is/? It's people looking out for each other!" Her right foot taps anxiously and she pauses for a few moments to collect herself, but her teeth remain tightly clenched. Finally: "I'm not /coddlin'/ you. I'm only tryin' to help you. Everyone needs help, y'know." Attempting a peace offering, she slowly reaches out a hand to try and grip his shoulder. "Faranth knows I need help sometimes. Who else is gonna watch my back on the sands, eh?"
Aidra walks up from the hatching grounds entrance.
Aidra has arrived.
There's a moment where Xielar clearly looks like he's debating spitting off another vehement remark. For a brief moment, anger seems to well up in his eyes. The candidate is seated while Fayre seems to be standing, gripping Xie's shoulder. They both seem to be angry at one another. Xielar, clearly moreso than Fayre at the moment. But he's not saying anything. Not for a long time does he even blink. "Fine," the candidate finally replies back to Fayre neutrally, much of his former heat seemingly diminished. "You can count on me to watch your back on the sands."
After a few tense, thoughtful moments, Fayre lets go of Xielar's shoulder and sits back down on the bench. A smile returns to her face and she replies, "Good. I'll watch out for any sharp talons and teeth coming your way too, then." Uncertainly, she continues, "We're still friends, yeah? I mean, you can only get so mad at you for tryin' to watch out for ya." Her hand lifts up, as if she's about to try and ruffle the ex-dockworker's hair, but she hastily changes direction and instead pats down her own black hair. Ahem. Yes.
Aidra ambles up into the galleries though she pauses, peering over at the tableau spread out before her consisting of an angry Fayre and Xielar. "Uh... Am I intruding on something?" She's still standing somewhere near the exit, as though to make it easier for her to leave if the two wish. Fidget, fidget.
Xielar watches Fayre, the gambler receiving his undivided attention whether she wants it or not. Aidra doesn't even seem to be noticed for now. "Friends," Xielar remarks, once again, neutrally. "Sure." His eyes narrow at her hand lifting up, as if anticipating a hair-tousling. As she instead pats her own hair down, Xie finally notices Aidra, looking visibly relieved. "Hi Aidra," Xielar greets her. "... no, nothing at all."
Fayre fidgets with her sarong, perhaps uncomfortable with all this strange neutrality she's getting from Xielar. Distractedly, she notices the entrance of Aidra and waves. She puts on what is hopefully a polite smile, "Oh, no no! Not intruding at all. Hatching galleries are free for anyone to visit, neh? C'mon in and lookit the eggs!" At the same time, she's getting to her feet again and picks up her two buckets full of tubers. "But I better get this stuffback to the kitchens. Don't want to abuse their kindness for lettin' me do my food prep here." One of the buckets is wiggled in lieu of a wave before the candidate heads off towards the bowl.