Of bracelets and hierarchies

[noleepackrat]

Nolee, Naemyr
Later Lirit, Eslyn, Aiemera, Cynara
9-4-05

Candidate's Quarters
The barracks of Ista Weyr are crowded almost Turn round with the Candidates for its queens' Hatching. Cots line both walls and even the space in between. All the cots have a small press at the foot of them for Candidates' few belongings.
As it's the day hours, only a few Candidates can be seen here.

Naemyr
Is it brown or is it black? Difficult to say what color the long mop of straight hair is on this lad of 20 Turns, 2 months, and 22 days, other than to deem it.. naturally streaked. Equally dark eyes and brows accent his rather long face, chin prominently jutting out and slightly to the left, as if a remnant of a tussle long ago that's left behind its mark. This characteristic tends to alter his smile into a wide, lopsided grin that hints of a teasing nature. His long torso is visibly too thin, accenting long legs and arms that somehow manage with decent attempts to keep this youth upright. Both hands are large and strong, calloused from turns of hard work. One might think him bowlegged, though he will adamantly insist the runners are responsible for making him that way!
Naemyr's shirt is a deep turquoise, light material, short sleeves with a thin turn of the material into cuffs around his upper arms. Bare of ornamentation, but clean and free of rips and holes, the bottom is tucked into black trous that have been cut neatly directly above the knee and sewn with a hem. Black boots shined to gleaming rise to his mid calf. The only extravagance on him today is a wide, woven belt sporting a large buckle of thick twisted wire, painted a deep copper tone. On his shoulder rests the Ista Weyr knot, neatly twined black and orange with a white cord, signifying he is a Candidate.

The autumn afternoon brings high levels of humidity to the Istan Isle, no breeze to be had to lighten the oppressive heat. Even the mist shrouding the Weyr is warm, leaving the few Candidates who have chores in the barracks to swelter and sweat. The entry curtain is pinned aside, where a hopeful sot has aimed to entice a breath of cooling air, to no avail. One Candidate, a blond girl, is bent over one of the presses at the end of the first row near an unclaimed cot, cleaning implements in hand, a ratty rag marking along the carved shapes to return the press to a state of shine.

Naemyr sits unhappily on one of the cots, mussed from last night's sleep. He yawns expansively, raising both arms over his head, then both fall onto the cot with a light thump. Sighing, he looks around the area.

Nolee peeks her head up, her neck tilted sideways to search in the direction of that yawn. Her large eyes blink once, twice, then she stares for a good long moment, her cleaning rag unmoving. "Are you," she starts, her voice quiet in the manner of someone whispering a faux pas to the offender, "in the right place?"

Naemyr hmms, scrinching his mouth and nose to survey the place. "Well, since there's no sea waves lapping against the dock, I'd say no." Seeming exasperated, he shrugs, looking quite pathetic. "And there's no boats. And no crates. Just.. mops and buckets."

Nolee, half-hiding behind her rag and bucket, takes a few steps closer to the miserable man where he sits, sympathetic. "These are the Candidate's quarters," she explains, not yet noticing the dark-haired dockworker's change of knot, "At least. I think they are. All the cots, the presses, the rules." She waves the rag, gesturing. "You could probably get some toy boats, if that would spruce it up a little?"

Naemyr flops back down onto the cot, pulling one booted foot up to rest on the bedding leaving a smudge of dirt as a print. "I don't want toys, I want the real thing. How am I supposed to finish work on the Hopper when I'm here, doing all this silly stuff? Ah, Lirit has fixed me up good, now." Another sigh comes, then he adds, "Why'd I say yes. Must have been all the rum in the Sandbar. Hey." he sits back up to grin at Nolee. "Do you think I can say no now, claiming I was too drunk to know what I agreed to?"

Aiemera has been atop her cot, piled beneath a pillow and half a blanket. The sound of voices finally finds her emerging, her hair mussed and rather unkempt, facial features just slightly slack from having just awakened. Rubbing a hand against her face before attempting to discern who the owners of the voices are, Aiemera casts a look toward Nolee and Naemyr, though her gaze noteably lingers on Naemyr with something akin to disbelief. "Naemyr?"

Nolee, still dragging the bucket and cleaning rag along, gives a ponderous examination to Naemyr's dirty boot on the bedding, her fingers twitching with the urge to clean it, as that'd likely be more amusing than cleaning presses. "That depends," the pear-shaped girl replies. "Are you here as a punishment? Because I don't think you can say no to those." Her eyes drift to Aiemera, widening again. "I must be doing something wrong if I'm up and at chores, and half the rest of the cots are asleep. What's your secret?"

Naemyr's scrinched up face nods agreement to Aiemera, the other boot joining the first to dirty up the bedding quite nicely. "It was Eleketh who thought of taking a dockhand out of the docks to Stand, though I blame it on Lirit, mostly. I did get her back, though. Real good." The grin returns, along with a wink for both Nolee and Aiemera. "I'm afraid yer going to be stuck with me for a while. At least until the hatching. Then I can go home."

Aiemera groans and drops back against her cot. Sliding a hand over her eyes, she then offers, "Got up early... no, was pulled up early to help with something. Just got in a little while ago. Still trying to catch up on that sleep." After a moment of silence, she forces herself back up and drapes her legs over the side of her cot, "Well congratulations at any rate, Naemyr. Bet you the time'll fly right by and well, you'll be on your way... one way or another."

Nolee doesn't have anything akin to a strong enough desire to clean that she's motivated to even push those boots off the bedding. Instead, she watches the dirt fall and smear, intrigued. "Oh, she asked you to come here? I thought you meant they tried the worst thing they could think of, and this was it. Though," she scratches at her head, sadly regarding Aiemera, "it isn't as bad as I thought, other than the work and the funny schedule." Back to the disconsolate man, "What'll you do about the boat? Is it all painted now?"

Naemyr rolls his head to the side to see Aiemera and Nolee better, giving Aiemera a slight smile. "Thanks. And yeah, I'll be back at the docks in no time, though I heard the Dockmaster didn't even mind that I was gone. I don't understand that, but maybe he was thinking of someone else." Nolee's question seems to spark something. Instead of answering, he asks, "Oh! By the way... where did all those drawings come from? The ones on the side of the boat? Weren't you there when I left to go for a swim?"

Aiemera's smile is quietly amused, nothing more. She shakes her head however, "Must've been thinking of someone else, yes." Pushing off her cot, Aiemera pauses to stretch and then settles back down to pull her sandals on. "Best go get some food while I still have a break. Can I bring either of you back anything?" Small. Preferably easily sneakable. Aiemera waits just long enough to recieve responses before moving toward the front of the room.

Nolee balances the rag over her finger, twirling it around and watching the dirt lines on it spin around in a captivating fashion. "Huh? Drawings?" A moment passes where she considers lying, but it is just long enough to be evident, so she opts for truth with a dash of spice. "We made them. For luck. Oh, he didn't even notice you were gone? Or didn't mind. Hm. Maybe it's a good sign? Pop said something about duty to the Weyr and all that. Could be he's proud?"

Naemyr sends an 'eye' to Nolee, one brow arching at her answer about painting. "So it was /you/ who did those drawings? Did I ask for them? Well, no matter. If Jillah doesn't want them, she can just paint over them. And yeah, the painting's all done, thanks to you all. What's needed now is the mast. We were going out to get it, but then.. well.. you know."

"It was. But I can't take sole credit. I think the Headwoman did the other one." The swirling rag slips from Nolee's finger, sliding across the floor and under another cot. As she crawls to retrieve it, she agrees, "I don't think you asked. I think you went swimming?" she tries to recall, her fingers stretching for the cloth. "We must've forgotten our task without a reminder." As she retrieves it, she bumps her head on the cot. "Ow," and rubs the spot. "You weren't able to find a mast? Oh, I know. Then you were kinda drunk."

Tight up and down scratches are legible, the words reading, "Dear Jillah, may your boat stay rightside up, may the volcano not burn it, may birds not make too much mess on it, and may you someday find your boots. Hope you like the paintings from me'n'Lyss. From Nolee"

Nolee leans down onto her elbows, resting her weight on the floor while she rubs at her head. "Oh, don't worry. I'm fine. I bump myself on things all the time. Pop says I'm clumsier than a newborn calf." The rag is bunched to make an inadequate pillow, "Put her in her place? What did you do to her? What'd the dragon do to you? Did he try to lick you?"

Naemyr shifts so he can prop his head up with a crooked arm, palm resting on his cheek to look at Nolee. "Well, she was acting like the youngest little I've seen in all my days. She has the most arrogant attitude in Pern, you know? You've seen her, right? Well! I fixed that! Picked her right up on my shoulder and plunked her down facing a palm tree. Made her stay there til she was good and ready to realize what she had done. Shards 'n feathers, I had to swat her behind just to make sure she knew I wasn't kidding!" He pauses to nod, accenting, "And it worked."

Nolee reaches up one hand under an empty cot, picking at a place where the thin layer of stuffing has begun to protrude. "She has the most arrogant attitude?" Nolee's brows pull downward, assessing the teller as well as the told-of. "You picked up a -dragonrider- and made her stand in time-out?" Incredulous, and also a tad impressed, Nolee drops the stuffing into her mouth, coughing as she inhales it by accident. "Then what happened next?" The inflection says the real question is, 'how is it you aren't dead?'

Naemyr corrects, "More important is what happened 'aforehand, you know? I wouldn't have done /anything/ if she hadn't told her dragon to toss me out into the water and plow after me! What's that all about? I had done /nothing/ to deserve that! You asked about being licked? Hmmph. Licked is far from being drowned! She deserved it. Besides. She won't do a thing to me now. It's when I go back to the docks when this is all over that I'll have to watch my back. Or hire someone to do it for me. Just so long as I don't hire someone who has an alliance with her and I don't know about it. Or she bribes them. She'd do that, you know?"

Nolee wriggles her tongue over her palate, trying to free the sticky cot stuffing fibers where they've damply adhered, giving her the appearance of a bovine chewing, accented by her large dark eyes. "But the aforehand aforehand was in the bar," Nolee reasons, showing unusual analytical ability for her. "So maybe she thought you were deserving? Or that you like to swim?" Reaching sideways, she finds a broken strand of beads under the cot, and works at halfheartedly gathering them. "She sounds like she has enough gall to strike to your face, so you could save your marks on that." There must be a bright side, right?

Naemyr has been watching the cud-chewing with curiosity, but says nothing for now. "Nope. She had no reason for what she did. I did nothing wrong. Before OR after!" He turns onto his back once again, hands clasped behind his head. "It's all her doing, and now that she's been corrected, I think everyone will benefit. Even you."

Nolee makes a noise in her throat, then pulls out the offending cot-fluff filling, sighing contentedly as it comes free. "No reason?" She ponders this for a long moment while the string of found beads are gathered, the few that have come loose and the batch that are still threaded. "How will we benefit? Is she more tame now, or likely to be angrier?" Sitting up carefully to avoid head-bashing repeats, she looks at the beads. "You could wear this, like a bracelet, and if you get into trouble, clack the beads and help could come?"

Naemyr hmmphs loudly, replying with a reassuring smile, "She won't be angry, she'll be afraid. And I think /you/ should take the beads. Just in case she tries anything. /I'll/ be there to settle her down!"

Nolee has the beads mostly collected, and she spreads the cleaning rag out over her lap where she's seated on the floor, then collects the beads into it where she can better see them. "No fighting is part of the rules," she blithely quotes, a smile touching her lips. "I remembered because it seemed funny. If you were bleeding on the Sands, wouldn't that make a dragon more likely to come toward you?" A shrug, "Have it your way. I'll jingle it if I need help, once I get it made again, and if you change your mind and want it, just ask."

Naemyr quotes, "Bleeding on the sands? Why would I do that? She'll not touch a hair on my head! Well, maybe until I go back to the docks. And I have lots of friends there. If I need them. Which I won't." Once more he leans toward her to watch. "Are those your beads?"

Nolee shrugs, holding up the bedraggled end of twine the beads are threaded on and attempting to rethread the loose ones onto it. "Just thinking about the rule, and how it might be there to avoid giving people an advantage." She looks closely at his multitoned hair, noting, "You've got lots of it. You could spare one if she asked for it to hurt, if that would make her not want to harm the rest of your body." About the beads, she tells, "Nope, just found them. Thought I'd hold onto them, then if someone lost them and saw them, they could ask for 'em back, and they'd be fixed and found."

Naemyr is definitely confused, a curious smile offered. "Wait a minute. They aren't yours, you're going to hold onto them til someone says they are theirs, but you were going to give them to me? Uh, wouldn't that get /me/ into trouble?" There goes the smile, eyes beginning to slant just a tad.

Nolee nods simply, her attention on rethreading the beads. "Yep. Back home, we had few enough people, we could just wear a found hat on our heads, and if the owner didn't claim it back after a few sevendays, we'd have a new hat." She holds the partially-beaded strand up to compare to his skin tone, "Chances are it'd be easier to spot on your arm than on a girl's, too. But why not have it help out in keeping you safe in the meanwhile? Oh, I bet Aiemera could fix it better. She can fix anything."

Naemyr holds up his arm so Nolee can evaluate it easier. "So you're pretty strong? I don't think Lirit's all that tough, so yeah, you probably could come to my aid in case she decides to try something. What would Aiemera fix? It looks like you're doing ok rethreading it."

Nolee's eyes widen, startled. "Strong?" Her own arms are regarded, bony shoulders leading down to tanned slim limbs, and compared with his. "Sure, I'm strong. And there are things other than strength you can use to save people." Note how she doesn't elaborate, instead slipping another bead over the rough jute. "Aiemera can make things as good as new. She's good at that. I can make it look good as mended, most of the time."

Cynara slips into the candidate barracks, a green firelizard on one shoulder. She moves over to her cot, digging out a small pot of oil, and glancing around to see who's already there.

Naemyr turns onto his back to view the ceiling, still holding out his arm to Nolee. "Well, if it fits, I'll wear it, ya. Just try to make it less 'girly'? And just what would you do, if I needed help? What if I did clack the beads? Would you come with fists flying?" That said, he turns back to grin at her.

Nolee pulls the bracelet down, separating the lightest and the most decorous of the beads and leaving them off, then tying off the end to secure the beads, then holds it out toward his arm, beckoning it closer, "Sure I would. At least the flying part. There, none of the girliest beads are on. Though I could make ear baubles from them, if I ever get holes in my ears." For Cynara's quiet entrance, Nolee peeks up from behind the empty cot where she's sitting. "You didn't lose a bracelet, did you?"

Cynara shakes her head. "No, I don't." She finds her oil, moving to a cot near where they're talking...a social type, perhaps...and beginning to oil the young green, not much more than a hatchling, but a pretty one.

Naemyr stretches his arm out to where Nolee could loop the bracelet on, once more using his boots to push his body into a better vantage point. Most of the dirt has rubbed off to the bedding by now, but a large smear is now visible. "I think holes in ears would hurt. But then, you're strong and brave so you wouldn't even blink an eye if it was done. Why you would want to, I don't know. You're cute enough as it is." He grins and winks, turning further to see Cynara. "Heya, there. That's your green?"

"She's awfully pretty," Nolee praises, haphazardly tying the bracelet around Naemyr's arm, the twine rough and perhaps tickly against the skin. "Are those allowed in here?" Nolee gestures to the young firelizard, "I keep Gob in the basket by my cot, out of sight. When he's not in the kitchen rolling in the oil, that is." Naemyr's next comment causes enough distraction for her to tie her finger into the jute, startling as she realizes it and tugs it free. "I'm sure I'd more than blink. Even Gustive? Or Gerand? Said it hurt a whole bunch."

"Maybe she'll grow into it?" Nolee whistles, and the lid on the basket teeters precariously, then flops off, a tiny blue head peeking out. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to share your affections? He's not picky about who hands out the oil." The blue clumsily frees himself from the basket, winging awkwardly toward them, banking sharply to avoid the dirt piles on Naemyr's bed, then landing in Nolee's lap. "They are trouble. How do you manage two?" Naemyr's words bring a wince. "I keep hearing bad tales like that."

No sign of a blue straight away. Then a moment later, there's a little poof, and there's a really, really dark colored firelizard above Cynara. She laughs. "Sure, now I have /three/ of them wanting it...hello, Twilight." The name makes a lot of sense.

Naemyr watches Cynara's Twilight, then pulls his arm closer to his chest to view the new bracelet. "Nope, doesn't look too girly, that's for sure. Thanks, Nolee. I just hope no one claims the beads. Whatever would I do without your protection?" A grin is sent to her then he flips around to stand and stretch. Taking a few steps toward the other side of the barracks, he begins to clack the beads. "Help. Help." he calls out in a low voice, as if very far away.

Naemyr watches Cynara's Twilight, then pulls his arm closer to his chest to view the new bracelet. "Nope, doesn't look too girly, that's for sure. Thanks, Nolee. I just hope no one claims the beads. Whatever would I do without your protection?" A grin is sent to her then he flips around to stand and stretch. Taking a few steps toward the other side of the barracks, he begins to clack the beads. "Help. Help." he calls out in a low voice, as if very far away.

Nolee laughs as Gob ducks his head low into Nolee's lap, frightened by the new arrival. "Thank you! It's so hard to remember to take care of him unless he reminds me, and it usually comes when I'm supposed to be working." The rag from her earlier efforts is crunched under Gob's talons, and both are held aloft as Nolee climbs across the top of several cots to hasten to Naemyr's side. The last of them crumbles under her, and she arrives, panting and laughing, with a trip, the lizard sqwaking in protest. "We're here!" Gob's talon is extended with Nolee's help. "To protect and defend!"

Cynara laughs a bit. "Twilight, be nice to the other blues." No, Twilight just wants to be oiled, nudging at Cynara's hand as he lands on the cot next to her. "And let me finish with Damsel, she needs it more." A pause. "I manage. Twilight's fairly self-sufficient, anyway."

Naemyr grabs Nolee's shoulders to steady her, laughing, "Now /that/ is protection. I couldn't ask for more and I will never be afraid, unless I lose this bracelet! Or someone claims it.." Giving her a gentle pat, he then calls over to Cynara. "This is the person to get if you're ever in trouble, Cynara. Say, Nolee, do you protect 'lizards too?"

Nolee offers Naemyr a grateful look. "Thanks! And with a rescuer like that, I won't have to be afraid of anything, either. There must be something about the bracelet that will keep you safe." She turns to regard Cynara, surrounded by her small fair of winged fans, taking a few steps her way and leaving Naemyr unprotected, alas. Gob croons piteously. "I haven't yet. Oh, good that they get more self-sufficient, did you say?"

Lirit meanders into the Candidate Quarters, a bundle over one shoulder -- apparently a new Candidate's belongings. "Here we are, Eslyn" she murmurs over her shoulder, voice quiet. "Just pick an unoccupied cot and....." Her eyes flick over the room, taking in the collapsed cot in one corner, and the filthy one nearby that looks like it's had someone's grubby boots all over it. She frowns a littlem returning her attention to the new arrival. "Um...just pick an unoccupied cot, an' settle. They'll add you to the chore roster for tomorrow or th'next day."

Cynara starts to say something, then she hears the name 'Eslyn'. "Oh /hey/!" Somebody she actually, if somewhat briefly, knows. Damsel lifts her little wedge-shaped head and chirps something to the newcomers. Look who's here.

Naemyr leans over to smooth out his trous then plucking at a small bit of his new bracelet that's fallen off onto the floor. He hmms, standing, to peer at it. "Now where'd this come from?" he mutters, not noticing the arrivals as yet.

Eslyn saunters in behind Lirit, a pair of packs worn one on each shoulder. "A'right." She gives a nod to the bluerider before glancing across the cots and across the faces of those already present in the barracks. The girl's expression remains blank as she regards Cynara - the first to greet, "What're you doing here? I thought you lived in Igen." Well she -is- in the candidates' barracks, so... 'duh'. Es' voice is carefully neutral. "I'll take that one." She points out to Lirit - one of the unclaimed near the back of the room, nodding to those she passes on her way down towards it.

Nolee spins about, regarding the arriving pair with wide eyes. "Hullo 'gin, rider, hunter," she cheerfully says, not noticing the cause of Lirit's potential consternation in the form of messy cots or errant dockworkers. "I hope it still rings for you, Naemyr, 'cause you might need it."

Lirit follows after Eslyn, expression unreadable as she also nods greetings to those she passes, carefully placing the bundle she carries on the press at the foot of the deisgnated cot. "Luck to you, Es. I'll have half a mark ridin' on you on th'Sands" she says with a hint of a smile and a wink. The light expression is gone in an instant, though, as she turns her attention back to the mess further down hall. "Whose cot is this?" she asks the room at large, striding to the foot of the dirt-smeared one.

Eslyn settles in on the cot that she's selected - moving to put her belongings away in the press a few moments later. And thus the unpacking process begins.

Naemyr hesitates briefly, eyes drifting toward Nolee at her comment then to Lirit. What can he do after his boastfulness but straighten up tall, sucking in his gut to send back a, "Why, it's mine, Lirit. Did you need a nap? Go right ahead. I'm through with it for now. So Eleketh found another Candidate? Did you drown her too?" All that is said in a very sweet tone, a mock smile sent her way, while a wink goes to the others.

Cynara supplies to Eslyn. "I did until Ayannath kidnapped me." Then she turns to Lirit. Who's cot is it? She doesn't even remember right now. She herself is being careful not to spill firelizard oil everywhere...with Damsel done, she's now working on the larger Twilight.

Nolee hunches downward, abandoned by Gob who has made for Cynara and the promise of oil, the blonde girl righting the collapsed cot and realigning the parts that hold it upright. It steadies for the moment, so Nolee rests the blanket across it, leaving a surprise for its next user, gawking wordlessly at Naemyr's living up to his boast.

Lirit arches an eyebrow at Naemyr, expression unreadable. "Should've known" she murmurs softly. "I expect it to be clean and in line with th'others by the end of th'hour" she says coolly. Her eyes trail to the collapsed cot in the corner -- Iaril's. The cot that _used_ to be hers when she was a Candidate. "And whoever knocked that one over, fix it as well" she snaps, before wheeling for the door.

Naemyr points a finger toward the departing Lirit, nodding smugly toward Nolee and Cynara in a 'See?' gesture. He does lean over, patting the bedding, small poofs of dirt rising with each touch. "Doesn't seem like any of these are worth copying, actually, does it, Nolee? Except maybe yours but then you found beads and padding underneath other cots, so why bother?" He grins at that, then sneezes.

Lirit pauses in the doorway, shoulders straight. "Fidget" she calls, to have a small green firelizard drop from one of the ledge and wing to her shoulder. Taking her time, the bluerider reaches into her pouch for a carbon-stick and a small slip of fine hide, and writes out a message, which she carefully slips into the message tube strapped to Fidget's chest. "Find Claia" she murmurs....and the little green is gone.

Cynara is finishing up on Twilight, and eyeing Gob, "You're going to con me into thinking your human neglects you shamelessly, aren't you," she tells the little blue. Not that it isn't simply too cute.

Nolee frowns at Iaril's cot's mussed state, daring to come out from behind it now that Lirit's left. She presses on it lightly, testing it for collapse, and seems satisfied, though it might not last under any weight. Gently, she pushes on it, sliding it over, then the one behind it, slowly swapping their places. "Worth copying? They seem old, most of them," she pants at the effort, "but some might have surprises underneath, true. I haven't checked them all yet." A sidelong glance Lirit-ward, "Think we'll have guests?"

Gob croon-coos, ducking his candy-blended blue head pathetically up to Cynara. Of course she does.

Lirit turns to face back into the room from the shelter of the entry, watching Nolee exchange the cots without comment.

Naemyr walks toward Nolee to lend a hand, helping her push the cots to their new positions. "Hmm? I just got here not long ago so I don't really know. Do guests come to barracks like this often? I've never seen the insides of one until now." He avoids looking back at Lirit, thinking her gone. "Hey, look, I think I see a thong over there, like the ones people tie their hair back with. Yuck. Don't touch it." He does call to Cynara, "Want to help us find stuff?"

It doesn't take long before Fidget returns, circling Lirit's head and landing silently on her shoulder. The bluerider removes a note from the message tube and glances it over, the same unreadable expression on her face. "Naemyr" she barks abruptly.

Nolee smiles brightly at the assistance, the cots just about settled into their new homes. "I don't think there's anyone right behind Iaril yet, and I'd feel awfully bad if he fell right under this one before I'd found someone who could fix it properly." Her attention drifts toward the pointed-at hair tie, "It could be washed. I wouldn't mind keeping it if no one else does." She picks up an abandoned sock, hanging it off of the protruding edge of a cot like it is a foot. "I like finding stuff. I meant a guest, like, an inspector-guest."

Naemyr nods to Nolee then jerks, surprised at hearing his name from that very-well-known Voice. His side of a cot is dropped with a thump, before he composes himself to turn, looking for Lirit. "Oh. I thought you went to sleep on my cot?" he asks, then trots over to her. When he's close, he stops and attempts a poorly executed salute. "Yes?"

Lirit stands, back rigid and expression unreadable as she regards Naemyr silently for a time. "Candidacy" she finally states, in a voice loud enough to be heard by all present "is a time to learn the skills you will need should you Impress on the Sands, both physical and emotional." Interestingly, her dock-side drawl has receded to near imperceptibility as she speaks. "Part of that is responsibility. Part of that is _respect_. As a rider, you will need to be able to take orders and respond to them immediately and without back-talk or disrespect, because it can save your life and the life of your dragon."

Nolee has just bumped herself on another of those cot-edges so like the one that she just used to hang a sock off of, and she oofs very quietly, slowly coming to a standing position and still posture as Lirit's words echo through the cot-filled cavern. Any astute remarks are wisely kept to herself, the girl instead scratching her ear and puzzling over the words and their implications.

Naemyr tends to an inspection of Lirit's posture, surprised at her formality. A glance over his shoulder to Nolee is sent then he sizes up Lirit once again. When he speaks, his tone is matching in seriousness. "Yeah, but you have to earn respect, don't you? Not just on our side, I mean. Back in Nerat, the best sailors were the kind you could rely on to not put yourself in times when you'd be harmed. I call that earned respect."

Lirit looks up at Naemyr, her gaze unflinching. "Earned respect. Tell me, Naemyr....what part of you have I ever put in harm's way other than your pride?" she says coolly. She raises her voice again, so it carries. "I am one of those you will be taking orders from one day, Naemyr, whether I command your respect or not. And one of those orders is as follows: In addition to your regular duties, you are to meet me at dawn at the fewmet trenches until further notice. Bring a shovel; while we fly drills, you'll bury the cast off firestone ash from Timor's dragons."

Aiemera can hear the voices from outside the Candidate Quarters, yet she continues forward until she's stepping into them. Already looking tired, the girl casts a wary glance toward Lirit as she attempts to slide behind the Rider, her own hands folded off behind her back. Within moments her gaze slips off toward the Candidates present, shooting them a curious look, though ultimately it's Lirit who's studied last and watched as Aiemera continues trying to slide past her.

Nolee leans precariously to the side, to get a view of the bracelet on the dockworker-turned-Candidate's arm, noting its stillness. She takes, holds in, then finally releases a breath, all very slowly, her wide eyes blinking amazement at the first strong sign that life is different for those who reside here. Aiemera's entrance has her gesturing, by way of a hand over her own mouth, for the elder teen to shhhh, a talking-to's in progress.

Naemyr pffts, "What part of you have you ever put in harm's way? Shards 'n feathers, why it wasn't that long ago that you thought nothing of putting me in front of your dragon's talons and maw to toss me into the waves, let alone have said dragon chase after me to drown me! What do you call that? I call it a drowning attempt!" He's shaking a little now, face flushed with anger. Turning, he stalks over to the corner of the room to grab a shovel, heading for the curtained doorway. "For Faranth's sake, I'll go do it now." Not that he even knows where he's going.

Naemyr smacks the shovel onto the floor so hard the metal part *ping*s. His hands thump onto his hips as he just /stares/ after the departing Lirit. "She has no right to tell me to do that, and I'm not doin' it!" To the rider's back he yells, "HA!" More sputtering, more muttering, more flushed face, as he flops down onto a small three-legged stool to clasp his arms over his chest tightly.

"I call it an attempt to get you sober enough to partially understand one of the most important decisions you will ever make in your entire, sorry life" Lirit responds mildly. "Whether or not you have it in you to be a rider." She watches Naemyr go for the shovel, poker face in place -- and shards if this young woman isn't lethal at dragonpoker. "If the goal of th'order were to see the fewmets buried, I wouldn't have told you dawn, would I?" she adds. "Dawn. Tomorrow. When the wing is in the air." With that, she wheels on one heel and strides from the barracks, shoulders still straight.

Nolee moves in slow-motion, which seems to help her ability to avoid things she might bump into, tugging at the blankets of Iaril's new cot to straighten them. "But that'll mean the ash will drift right down on you," she unwisely connects. "And it could be hot, still, if it's recent, like a hearth fire." She regards her own hands, folding them together after inspection. "There's a lot, maybe too many, people in this place who have the authority to tell us to do things," she quietly muses. "It's like having ten Pops, all watching all the time."

Aiemera freezes and doesn't move. Not until Lirit's left, and the ping from Naemyr's shovel hitting has silenced to nothing. After such, she simply looks at the ex-dockhand and then Nolee before sliding away from the wall and moving rather quickly to her cot. She finds a seat upon it and stares briefly at the floor. A second or two later after Nolee's spoken, Aiemera adds, "She's right. You don't have to like it, but she is."

One might notice that Lirit has left behind the scrap of hide she received in response to the message she sent to Claia, earlier, at the foot of the cot closest to the door.

Naemyr rakes his hair with taut fingers, refusing to see any merit in what the others are saying. "I don't like it, you're right. And she's wrong. She has to respect us as well as we do her. As for me, I think she's wherry du..." he trails off, snapping his mouth shut tightly before finishing.

Nolee directs her next toward Aiemera, not certain that Naemyr's in any frame of mind for such suggestions about now. "Do you think what she says has any merit? Or is she just pulling that, 'I'm experienced, I know best,' routine?" Scratching her nose, she sits down on Iaril's new cot. "After all, we might not even get picked by dragons, and if we do, they've got turns to teach us, and even so, there isn't Thread anymore." She casts Myr a reassuring glance, "It'll only last for a few seasons?" What a comfort.

Aiemera hesitates, looking at both Nolee and Naemyr before offering, "It doesn't matter what we think or even if she knows what she's saying. She's above us. You... have to understand how things work here. We listen." She shrugs as though it weren't even all that big of a deal, though attempts to soften the rigidness of her statement. "Tell you one thing. It could've been worse... I don't even know what it was all about, but... it can always be worse."

Naemyr smacks his feet against the floor as he stands to walk off some of the anger. Pacing, he moves through the rows of cots, kicking at a leg or side here and there. "All she wants is power to control and I know it!" he blurts out loudly. "I can't stand her and I'll never change my mind about that. Bah! All those times she offered to help me with the Hopper. All she wanted to do was show off how she can control me. Welllllll..... it'll be a /long/ time before /that/ happens!" Right about at the place where the scrap of hide dropped from Lirit's hands, Myr pauses long enough to catch sight of it. "Hey. Look here.."

Nolee shakes her head, displeased with this answer even if recognizing it as the truth of their situation, her fingers idly plucking at the blanket's looser threads. "I think when we said yes," she says, slowly, "we agreed to listen. Maybe that's why she said it was the most important decision ever. Though," she rises, moving a little closer to the man, "it'd have been nice to know that 'aforehand. What you got?"

"She already does." Not so helpfully pointed out by the girl, Aiemera sends a wane smile along with her statement. Pushing off her sandals, Aiemera pulls her legs up beside her on her cot, twisting just enough to retrieve her pillow before settling it atop her lap. She watches Naemyr's reaction to the hide with a slightly wary expression, one that nearly doubles as Nolee moves closer. "It's just how things go, really. The decision was... about more then just standing, maybe. Or, who knows. Guess it depends on how you look at it." Saying nothing more, Aiemera regards the pair across from her.

Naemyr holds the hide in his hand but does glance up at Aiemera before looking back at the words. Reading them brings a pfft, then he hands the scrap to Nolee to see what's written.

Nolee takes a look at the hide, holding it flat within her fingers to read the words scrawled there. "I wonder if she'd tell stories about what kind of trouble she got in when she lived in here." Releasing one edge, the scrap curls up again, returning to the shape of the message tube. "Maybe that's why it is important to her. Because there were hard lessons she learned." Nolee sets the hide scrap on one of the messy cots, a surprise irrelevant warning to its owner, and returns to the bucket she left earlier. "Ew, the water's cold now. I ought get to warming it before any more cleaning."

Aiemera regards Nolee and Naemyr for a moment longer, though dismisses the scroll all together. "Either way, it's where we're at. Like it or not. No sense fighting what you can't... especially when it's something like this." Bland about the idea, Aiemera shrugs once more before pushing her pillow off her lap and retrieving her sandals, "And while I'm thinking about it, I might as well go and scrub up before eating. Take it easy, Naemyr? It'll get easier... just... work with it."

Nolee is surprised to find a little blue firelizard in her washbucket, and he splashes at her, hopping forth and clinging, wet, to her shirtfront. She makes a face, retrieving the rag squished up under another cot, then patting him down with it. "So much for the fresh oiling. You just want to play." Taking the firelizard and the bucket along, she waves the rag to Aiemera, "I'll join you in soon at dinner. And Naemyr, you can also jingle the bracelet if you just feel mad and want someone to help talk so you don't get so angry in their faces. That has to make them even madder. It does Pop, and usually I get firetending duty for sure. Anyhow, if you need me." A hand is waved, and Nolee and Gob are off on their way.