Candidate Meeting: Last Chance To Run

Julian was not one to leave his bed when not forced to work for the guards. He was not one to show up for lessons of all things, and he was not one to put in any effort whatsoever. So what was it that had driven him to make his way to the beach? Maybe some buried longing for something to love him in the way his parents and siblings never had, or maybe it was because he secretly wanted his life to turn around? No.

Julian just thought the Barracks smelled bad and was seizing any opportunity to get out of the disgusting barracks. So he waltzed down to the beach, inclining his head respectfully to L'vey... before yawning and waving at Faeth. "Hello" He greeted the dragon warmly, taken back with awe for a moment at her. She was beautiful, even if she was a Green. He didn't understand riders sometimes. Why did they treat Greens and Blues as if they were beneath them? He thought that Greens and Blues were probably the best looking and most useful of the dragons, even if they didn't have the most stamina. Silly dragonriders. They didn't know how lucky they were.

Julian yawned again, posture hunched as he stood on the prisoner side, his hands dangling at his hips. He could use some Dust right now. He'd gotten out of detox, but the cravings still remained. It'd been rumored that with as hard a user as Julian, they would always stay. The prospect wasn't an attractive one. He wanted Dust. He hated this Prison sometimes, really... though he supposed it was nice how he could avoid doing chores by pretending to be sick. He looked at L'vey curiously.

What was this man up to? People didn't help prisoners like he did. Yet he treated them as if they were normal. He hadn't said that only the nonprisoner candidates got food, they all did. Julian was suspicious of him... the last time someone had treated him kindly, he'd ended up a drug addict and in prison.

Reeva breathed in the sea air, somewhat confused as to what was going on, but happy that they prisoner candidates had been 'allowed' to attend the lesson. She was sat cross-legged on the sand, with the other prisoner candidates, the sleeves of her jumpsuit rolled up. If it weren't for the jumpsuit and the Whers, it might have been a peaceful outing. It still would be. Reeva doubted that any of the candidates would give up their right to Stand just to cause a bit of chaos.

At the mention of the touching, Reeva's attention snagged. She hadn't realised that with candidacy and standing, that they would be able to touch the eggs as well. Surely there would be some kind of catch? Some task that they would have to do to ensure they got a chance to touch the eggs? Of course, even if a task did have to be completed, it was down to the mother dragon whether they were able to touch the eggs or not, right?

Reeva took a fruit juice from the Weyrling's tray and sipped at it. She did wonder at her luck sometimes. If she hadn't been caught stealing, then she would never have gotten the chance to be a candidate. Whether the eggs hatched or not, it still had allowed her visit the beach, something she hadn't done since she was a kid.

She did begin to wonder why the rider had suggested the prisoners be candidates. Reeva supposed it was just because they didn't want young things to die. That was always sad.

One particular woman seemed to be rather content with the current location. She was sitting cross legged in the warm sand, near the front. Wher hide pants clad her legs and a simple long sleeved blue shirt hugged her top, keeping her warm in the dimming light. Her expression was that of mild amusement and indulgence. To her, this lesson was considered a bit of a joke. In her time, she had experienced real candidate lessons. Muscles had protested, sweat had trickled, and blood had been shed for the honor of standing for a clutch.

Yet she knew things at Warden were different. In her opinion, they may be a little lenient on this whole candidate affair. But desperate times called for desperate measures. It was better to just go along with it, playing along during this lesson like a parent would a child's game. Though it must be noted her thoughts were not condescending or cruel, just amused. I wonder if I'll learn anything, she pondered to herself. The corners of her lips quirked at the prospect. Knowledge, no matter how small the grain, was always valued. Even if she had spent years at Benden, there might be a nodule or two of wisdom that the Green rider could depart until her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by one of the Weyrlings offering her food and drink. Looking up at the fellow, she offered him a polite smile. "Thank you," she murmured while her digits wrapped around a glass of water. Water was safe. It was colorless and tasteless. Who knew what could have accidentally slipped into the refreshments. Unless she poured it, she didn't trust half of the food or drink served anywhere in the Weyr. Some of the Prisoners were crafty. Dying of poisoning was not on her to do list.

Still, she didn't let any of these notions show in her demeanor or facial expressions. She merely took a small sip of the water and dipped her head at the Weyrling in fare well. In her lap, Glint glowered. The Gold firelizard wasn't a happy camper. She'd glared at the Weyrling as he'd given her mistress the drink, then sulked when he left. Queeny dear was in one of her moods. But then again, she was always in a mood, especially now. Heavy with eggs and looking portly to boot, the Gold was getting self conscious. She was a vain little thing and didn't like being thought of less than perfect. If it was up to her, she'd be hiding in Milune's room.

But the healer wasn't going to take any chances. A pregnant Gold 'lizard was an easy target for some of the more addled prisoners. She didn't want her to get attacked by a fanatic on dust withdrawals. Ever since she had really started showing and slowing down, Glint was constantly at her side. And to try and appease the grumpy gut, the healer started rubbing the lounging flitters belly. Sulkily, she just pouted half-angry up at hers. In return, the lass arched a brow and shook her head before her attention drifted back to L'vey. Let us see what the rider had to say, hmm?

Ever was an obedient child in the eyes of her new parents, those new parents being the guards at Warden’s Weyr. Her real parents were estranged—you know, Underwein, Lord Holder of Fort and his wife, Evandra?—but we won’t get into that business right now. So when the guards asked if any prisoners wanted to perhaps stand at the hatching, which would be soon perhaps, Ever jumped at the deal. She was a good girl, really, and she had Bailey to prove that fact. If she had been even a smidgen of bad, Bailey would have been taken from her and culled before she knew what was going on.

She was, however, one of the ones who would happily give up free time for something so wonderful as perhaps being a candidate. So she’d been happy enough, having been shuffled out of the Weyr by wherhandlers and other guards, and was happy enough to sit on the cooling sands. Of course, prisoners and ‘other candidates’ were kept in separate lines. The way she looked at him, Ever sat in the left line (though to the Weyrlingmaster it was on his right), and she felt all of a sudden uncomfortable in the red pickup she was wearing right now.

At least there were more than just her here who wanted to be candidates but were, woefully, prisoners. Casting a glance around her, Ever noticed that she knew a few of them, but not all. And a few guards, too. Well, of course she’d know them; she’d been here since the beginning. She didn’t know some of the other people, though, because they either didn’t talk to the prisoners, weren’t allowed to, or just came here a little while ago.

Ever sat in her little row with Bailey on her shoulder, chirping lightly into her ear and nuzzling through her hair. She absentmindedly petted him before reaching up to take a meat roll from the provided trays. She was very hungry, after all. After eating the first roll, she took a piece of fruit from the tray and settled back down. Then Ever noticed that L’vey had begun to speak, and she stayed her mouth so she might hear him speak.

The thought of having her dragon crippled, if a dragon were to Impress to her in the first place, had Ever’s stomach going squeamish. It reminded her of the time that she’d taken Dust—not a good time—or when she finally realized that her other firelizards had died because of her actions. Her mouth turned downward at that thought, and the perpetual saddened look of her face turned worse. Not like anyone was looking at her anyway, all eyes were to be fixated on the Weyrlingmaster, of course.

“I have a question,” Ever spoke up, her low voice sounding almost as sad as her face was perpetually, “Prisoners are kept on a tight watch, especially if they have been made Weyrlings. But what if, what if a non-prisoner Weyrling does some sort of ‘unlawful’ activity? Would they be given three strikes then they’re out or would their dragons be crippled on the first sight of anything wrong?” She asked, and her eyes seemed to pierce the Weyrlingmaster. She was making a point, and a good one, even if the prisoners had been charged with crimes that made them instantly upped in the ladder of horribleness. “We prisoners are, excuse this, the non-violent ones, the ones who’ve proven that they’re good enough to possibly be normal people again. An example: So we get the harsher punishment, I see that. But what happens if we do something in self-defense and it’s charged as a violent crime. But a non-prisoner has the same thing happen to him and he gets a pat on the back. We, if we prisoners Impress, will most likely be shunned from the other prisoners because of what we will be, not because of what we are now. We’ll most likely be hit and called names, and there’s that same self-defense issue. What’re we supposed to do then, Weyrlingmaster? Are we supposed to take the hurt and have our dragons mentally injured because of it? And crippled above that? So, basically I’m asking more than one question, if you would like to answer them.”

---

Tanyrion wasn’t exactly sure if he wanted to go down to the beach late at night or something. But it was for the dragons that the strange Queen had clutched. Really, a Queen dragon Running? Who had ever heard of anything that crazy? Well, a Queen had to do what a Queen had to do when she wanted to Rise, it seemed like. So the Queen Ran, and everything seemed fine. A Blue was even the Weyrleader. Tany had heard that there were a few eggs on the sands… twenty or so? It was a strange turn of events, of course, but there were eggs, and Tany was fine.

Tany had better be fine, because he was here right now, sitting in the cooling sand, munching on fruit. And he actually liked it. It might be cutting into his free time, but at least it was fun. Perhaps she would Run again sometime. Perhaps another Blue would find himself Weyrleader (or the same Blue, Tany wasn’t judgeing), but this was a special case, and Tanyrion was happy that he could take part in this special event. If the eggs hatched. If Semith let them see the eggs. She was being a little too happy about it, he heard from other guards.

The blue-eyed guard sat with the other guards and non-guards (but certainly not prisoners) in crisscross applesauce as they listened to L’vey. When L’vey asked if they had any questions, Tanyrion’s mind didn’t think of anything. He had no questions, he would take this in stride. But a prisoner, one of the women ones who, no doubt, had heard of the ‘shiny’ that Semith kept going on about, said she had a question. Or perhaps she hadn’t heard of the shiny egg and had instead jumped at the fact that she might be free after all of this.

Her questions were actually intriguing, if not shot off right after each other. And at first Tany’s mind hadn’t registered all of it, but when the questions sank in, they actually made sense. If an offhanded sense. Perhaps the prisoner had a false sense of hope. She was a prisoner, of course.

Reeva stayed quiet as the girl asked her questions, and the weyrling master answered them. They were prisoners, they had done 'bad things', and of course they wouldn't be treated fairly. As for bringing gifts to the Gold dragon, what gifts would a prisoner have that they could give to a dragon? Reeva herself only had a number of red jumpsuits. She looked back at the girl who had spoken, noting the firelizard on her shoulder. A male, as with all prisoner flitters of course.

She turned back to the weyrling master, eyes narrowed slightly. 'Sir, I know the chances of this are unlikely as the mother and father are gold and blue, but what if there are metallic dragons in the clutch? And what if those metallic dragons were to Impress to one of us prisoners? If the idea of us Standing at all is such a bad one, then surely the idea of one of us riding a bronze or a gold would not be accepted at all?'

Reeva chewed her lip slightly as she waited for an answer, if she got one. Likely she would be laughed at, for a gold and a blue couldn't produce anything higher than a brown, right? Maybe a bronze? But the question was valid none the less. Reeva didn't know much about what kind of people dragons liked, but some prisoners were here just because they had used Dust. And from what Reeva had seen of those prisoners, they were just as good as those people who guarded them, and therefore had just as much of a chance of Impressing a dragon as the candidates sat opposite them.

Julian stayed quiet, before his eyes rose to focus on L'vey. Dislike suddenly sprang into his eyes and his jaw twitched. Julian had come to a conclusion about this prisoner candidate business, and it wasn't one he liked. This whole thing was just a cruel joke to play on them. Surely the Warden and Weyrlingmaster knew no prisoner would Impress.

"This is cruel." He hissed, loud enough to be heard. It was rare for the former duster to even speak loud enough for others to hear, but there was a strange conviction in his voice. That of a man who is certain of something and doesn't intend to back down easily. "You're letting us stand for Dragons that won't even choose us. Then what happens to us if by some miracle we're chosen? So called freedom, where we are hated by prisoners and dragonriders alike." So why was Julian standing? He didn't know. Some internal desire to be something more then what he was now, some half-dead hope that maybe, just maybe, he could get a lifemate. "We won't be accepted by our former peers or fellow dragonriders. The holders will whisper about how we stole dragons. But we have no choice, do we?" He grumbled bitterly. "Because if we do back out, there's a chance we could be responsible for the death of an infant." Julian wasn't really thinking of himself. He was thinking of those prisoners that would be crushed when they were left Standing, those who would not be able to survive the hatred of Pern.

Bell shifted on his shoulder, his eyes whirling red in response to Julian's emotions. He spread his wings and hissed, stirred out of his usual lazy sleeping. Julian could only hope that Bell would not be the one to suffer for Julian speaking out, and he fell silent quickly after speaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Farrox fidgeted form his spot, quietly listening to the words of all those who spoke. He didn't really have an opinion on all this, merely staring at the ground and occasionally nudging the sand of the beach with his foot. He had no idea why -he- was allowed to stand. He was far too traumatized... maybe no one had noticed? He wouldn't be surprised.

Gwynell listened attentively, taking brisk notes in shorthand (as she'd yanked her notebook and pen out of her pouch), waiting until the other questions had died down. She was fairly sure that her questions weren't going to be very popular, but someone had to ask them. If they were all weyrlings together, they'd have to live together, and this made the most sense.

"L'vey, you said that the, ahem," she blushed lightly, "prisoner-weyrlings are required to live in the stone barracks, but as those must be made large enough to take full-grown dragons, wouldn't it make sense for all the weyrlings to live inside until the dragons get too large? It would better camaraderie..." she trailed off, uncertain even in her certainty. She was certain it was going to be an unpopular idea. She was also certain it would be for the best of the weyrlings, should she be one or not. They would be running guard-duty together, the current prisoners and any non-prisoners who Impressed, it only made sense that they learn how to live together, it would better their working together. None were likely to see it her way, especially her fellow non-prisoners. She was likely to become very unpopular, but there wasn't much she could, or would, do about it.