Candidate Meeting: Last Chance To Run

[lithle]

Warden's Weyr did not have candidates. Well, no. It did have candidates. But it did not have candidacy. There was no introduction to dragons, no getting to know the Weyr for outsiders, no endless dull chores. There was too much endless dull work for that. Guards needed to guard. Inmates needed to... inmate.

Well, regardless. Candidacy at Warden's Weyr was different. There wasn't even a candidatemaster, only L'vey. And it was L'vey who had arranged for the candidates to meet him out on the beach, the sun only just setting along the horizon. The prisoners had been fetched, and a squad of whers was in attendance to make sure there were no incidents.

Glowbaskets on poles illuminated L'vey where he stood, the traditional candidates to his left, the prisoners in their red uniforms to his right. While he hadn't arranged anywhere special for them to sit, the sand was still warm from the day, and provided a comfortable place for the candidates to settle. Behind L'vey stood two weyrlings, holding trays laden with fruit juice, finger rolls, and pastries. Their shoulder knots identified them as green riders.

As the last few traditional candidates made there way in, L'vey was struck, again, by how few people they had to present to the hatchlings. So few choices. But who could blame them? Dragonriding at Warden's Weyr was a demanding, grueling profession. Long hours, little rest. And they could not know what it was to bond to a dragon, how powerful the emotion was.

Will it be alright? he asked Faeth, glancing over to where the dragon sat, watching the proceedings with open interest. The two younger greens were at her side.

Do not be so negative, Mine. Here are those willing to throw in their lot with their captors. Here are others ready to stand side by side with those they guard. You should be proud.[/i]

And he was. Worried, but proud.

"Good evening, everyone. Thank you for joining me. I know I'm interrupting your free time, and I apologize for that. The Warden and Weyrwoman both requested that I speak to you before the touching." L'vey's voice was soft, yet it carried well on the quiet evening air. "I've arranged for refreshments, please help yourself when they make their way around."

He nodded to the weyrlings then, and they stepped forward to make their rounds of the two candidate groups.

((OOC: Prisoners on one side, traditional candidates on the other. Anyone attempting to break the line will be gently lead back to where they belong by the guards. This will be a short 'lesson' just to get everyone ready for the touching and give them something to gossip about.))

[S'yal]

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.

[Lesa]

She sighed, burrowing her fingers in the sand. Why was she here again? Oh yeah, that was right. Somehow not only had she been whisked away from her enjoyable position teaching children, but she'd been tasked with teaching prisoners. And become a Candidate.
One bad, one good. Admittedly, it wasn't like her prisoner-students were all that bad, most of them had been Dusters, not outright thieves or murderers (not that there were any murderers in her class, she had drawn that line quite firmly when she had talked to L'vey). Her students had mostly just been taken over by their addiction, or if thieves, hadn't done bodily harm to another person. In essence, they were the ones likely to recognize that what they had done was wrong, and attempt to make amends.

It was the most important for her fellow Candidates to have her lessons, as some barely knew how to read or write, let alone basic math. She wasn't quite as concerned at making sure they learned the Teaching Songs as much as she was the basic skills that they would need in order to be good dragonriders. Even if all they were doing was working at Warden's Weyr, that didn't mean they had to be uneducated dragonriders.

Gwynell took her hand out of the sand, sprinkling the grains on Halbert's back. The feline merely twitched where he lay, twitching the sand off before he sat up and began compulsively grooming himself. Faaugh, ptwoi! He spat sand out then went back to grooming, pausing to glare at She who had sprinkled him with GrainyNasty. Not fair.
Her spectacles were shoved up her nose as she listened to L'vey, plotting out her next day's lessons all the same. Hard keeping track when part of her class had chores during one part of the day, and the other part of the class had chores another part of the day, and one group got through work faster than the other. She'd been reduced to making lists, or well, more lists than just the list she had running of the prisoners in her class that creeped her out the most. At this rate she was going to talk to L'vey or the Warden about the particular men, the two who looked at her as if she was a slab of meat. Ugh.

[ramba]

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.

[Wren]

Ooh, a lesson, this should be… better than sitting in the barracks doing nothing like a gormless idiot. Sheraz had only heard about the lesson from the rumours circulating the barracks, he having been, of all places, in the bath when the formal message was passed around, but that hadn’t stopped him from turning up, more out of curiosity and a desire to do something different than a feeling that he should. Not that he didn’t want a lesson, not at all; anything that might improve his chances of Impression were welcome as far as he was concerned.

The beach seemed like an odd kind of schoolroom to the prisoner as he picked his way over the sand, wincing as sand worked its way into his shoes and got stuck between his toes. Perhaps L’vey wanted all the prisoner-candidates as far away from the rest of the Weyr as possible, just in case any got a bit too excited. Possibly. Sheraz didn’t much care about the reason. He nodded to the wher-guards as he passed, a slight, sarcastic grin on his face as he did so, then looked around the gathering of people. Several people had already arrived, and it was clear what the arrangement was; ordinary candidates on one side, and red-garbed prisoners on the others. He noticed that several of the non-prisoners were looking across with nervous expressions, as if fearing one of the inmates would attack him. Sheraz smirked a little, amused by their fear.

“O’right, L’vey?” he greeted, nodding to the man. He spotted a prisoner he recognised, Julian, who was looking as unhappy as always, and he felt a stirring of pity; he’d seen many people go through the pain of detox, and Julian seemed to have taken it harder than most. He nodded and gave his usual roguish smile to the man, before flopping down in the sand next to him. He glanced at L’vey, the weyrlingmaster, when he spoke, and his smile grew larger at the promise of refreshments. He quite shamelessly took two of everything and lent back in the sand to enjoy it; even if he didn’t Impress, he thought, free food and drink made unofficial candidacy worth it.

[Mikki]

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?

[lithle]

As the weyrlings made their rounds, L'vey simply waited, and observed. He wanted everyone's attention, and it seemed to him they'd be more attentive fed and happy than hungry and tired. The tired, of course, he could only do so much about. Having a meeting this far from the prison walls, it'd been wise to have wher's present. And whers needed the night. Besides, everyone had actual work to do during the day, and it'd been made clear that his lessons weren't to interrupt anyone's duties.

Which meant, after an exhaustive days work, he'd dragged them down here, and half of them likely resented it. Oh, well. One made do with the tools they were given.

"There, I think you all have something to eat? Good." He cleared his throat then, his posture tensing. This next bit would be uncomfortable.

"First, I've been asked to address a few topics by The Warden. Many of you may have heard rumors on these subjects. It's best you know now what the facts are." Right. Okay. He could say this. He would say this, or the prisoners wouldn't stand and the hatchlings would go between. "Despite our conversations, he's still somewhat hesitant to allow anyone with a criminal record on the sands. It's only being allowed because certain promises have been made."

He glanced at Faeth then, so beautiful, so whole. The weyrlings greens were nestled close to her and he couldn't even imagine hurting something so... perfect.

"First, all of you should know that if you impress, it will be difficult to leave Warden's Weyr. The other Weyr's are not much interested in accepting transfers from here. For those of you on my left, you'll be expected to enter the guard force. It's difficult work, but rewarding. If you are uncomfortable with it, then it would be unwise to stand." The words, firm and measured, were not his words so much as they were the Warden's. They felt odd on his tongue. "The Warden is less inclined to accept Guards who were once inmates. However, he will consider it. If you are interested in flying with the patrols, the training will be provided. If not, we will find other work for you."

Alright. That was the easy part. Now, the hard bit.

"It must be understood, however, that any prisoner who impresses will be under close watch. Any signs of unlawful activity will not be taken lightly. Your dragon will be crippled. This is-- it is not an idle threat. He does not make them. Please, understand me," his voice was softer now, but somehow more powerful for the drop in volume. "Your dragon will be crippled. We believe it can be done with relatively little pain. But it will be done. By me. And Semith will have to assist. It's a terrible thing."

He paused, his hands shaking, to collect himself. "I will take questions now, if there are any."

((OOC Note: L'vey waited for everyone to arrive before speaking. If you didn't get a chance to post, assume your character arrived with the others.))

[Zen]

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.

[lithle]

L'vey was quiet, when the young woman finished speaking. He waited, his gaze scanning the rest of the gathered crowd, for any other question that might be forthcoming. When he felt relatively certain that none were, he turned his attention back to the speaker.

"You ask a number of questions," he said, in his same quiet way. Leshta, or the Warden, would not have taken such questions well. But L'vey never seemed to rise to anything like anger. Irritation, sometimes, though he always regretted it. "Some are based on somewhat false assumptions, but your point is an apt one."

"First, simply to clear up the matter, there should be no reason for you to be beset by prisoners, should you impress. You will be housed outside the prison. Any prisoners you might encounter would be under guard, as you are now. And, should any resident of the Weyr attack you, you would be within your rights to defend yourself. Your dragon's testimony would be enough to exonerate you of any guilt. They would, of course, be guilty of attempting to harm a dragon, and would be imprisoned themselves. Worry less about self-defense and more of theft, or dust use."

He paused, a bit thoughtfully, "We're not even entirely sure what dust use by a rider would do to a young dragon. It's quite possible it would cause it to go between. Please, remember that."

There, now. That bit was simple. That bit made sense even to him.

"As to the rest, no, I'm afraid you won't be treated fairly. Traditional Weyrlings will not labor under the same threats. Understand, neither the Warden nor the Weyrwoman are entirely happy with even having you stand. The Captain of the Dragon-Watch, when informed, forbid it entirely. I believe he came around only because the Warden convinced him that no prisoner stood a chance of impressing."

He sighed then, running his fingers through his short brown hair. He seemed a very tired man. He was a very tired man. In the end, L'vey was the only member of the Weyr leadership that actually wanted the prisoners to stand. And that was a stretch, because, frankly, L'vey was not a member of the Weyr leadership. He was just a man who believed something strongly enough that he could sometimes get others to agree with him, at least for a little while.

"It need not be an issue," he said, no longer looking directly at the girl but at the group as a whole. "Please, do not let it become one."

And may it never be so. Because it'd be on his head. He'd be the one maiming a dragon. He'd sworn he would do it. Just to have this chance.

"To move on to other subjects, Semith feels the eggs are nearly ready for visitors, and the touching should be within the next seven-day or so." He smiled, just barely, as he thought of the gold's gleeful excitement at being visited by so many. "Semith is a bit unusual. She may want to talk to you. If so, the polite thing to do is respond. And, as you know, she cannot fly. Do not mention this facts in front of the Weyrwoman. Do not comment on Semith, Mordanth, or the clutch in anything but a positive manner. Prisoner or no, if you anger Leshta, I'm afraid you will not be allowed to Stand. She can be, let us say, firm."

"Semith is fond of, well, things. Any things, really. It would be wise to bring some small gift with you. It need not be valuable. But she sees the eggs as a gift to you, and has come to believe she will be getting gifts in return."

He paused a moment, to let this sink in. While he did so, he took a water from the tray of the weyrling on his left and sipped at it. "Also, the eggs are buried. But she has promised you will be permitted to excavate them, provided you use care."

[ramba]

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.

[Wren]

A woman, one of the female prisoners he didn’t know, asked a question, and Sheraz glanced towards her. She spoke at rather great length, something that irritated Sheraz because it was a sign of confidence, and he liked to think that he was the most confident person in any situation. He didn’t really understand where she was coming from when she mentioned the other inmates giving those who chose to Stand a hard time; perhaps it was different in the women’s barracks, but in Sheraz’s experience, the worst things the prisoner-candidates had to face was a little jealousy from those deemed too violent to Stand, and apathy from those who could Stand but didn’t want to. That said, when she asked how the non-prisoner candidates would be treated if they acted unlawfully once they had Impressed, he perked up a little.

The answer was not very satisfactory, however. He didn’t really understand why an ordinary weyrling wouldn’t be punished as severely as a prisoner-weyrling for the same wrongdoing. He presumed that it was just the usual prejudice of the warden and weyrwoman. He couldn’t even see the point in crippling the dragon; if it was to stop them from flying away and escaping, well, why wouldn’t that apply to an ordinary weyrling that murdered someone?

However, the earlier information that the prisoner-weyrlings wouldn’t have to fly patrols delighted him. He’d thought that he’d be doing nothing but flying patrols, and he’d not been very happy with the thought of acting as a guard against some of his former cellmates. He would much rather do something else useful; he imagined that a dragon could make a lot of things easier with their immense size and strength. He didn’t much care that he wouldn’t be able to leave Warden’s; he didn’t particularly want to anyway.

He listened intently when L’vey changed the subject to the proper protocol on the Sands. A gift? What on earth was he supposed to give a dragon? He didn’t actually own anything beyond his jumpsuit and his working boots. He made a mental note to search for some of those shiny rocks he occasionally turned up when he tilled the fields; they weren’t worth anything, but L’vey had said they didn’t have to be. As for being polite to Leshta, well he could manage that, he thought; he’d suck up to anyone if it meant he could get a dragon.

When another of the women asked about what would happen in the unlikely event that a candidate Impressed to a metallic, he sat up quickly. “Yes, I’d like to know that to.” He said out loud, settling himself back into sand. He doubted very much that there’d be any bronzes in this clutch, but if there were, he wanted to make sure he was allowed to get one.

[S'yal]

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.

[Zen]

Bring a bauble, a shiny thing, a gift for the mother of the eggs. She thought her eggs were gifts. Ever had to question that. If she thought her eggs were gifts, then they really were, there was no ‘thinking’ about it. Any eggs were gifts, especially from a Queen who was horribly disfigured at birth and a Blue. At least there were eggs from the Run. And for that, Ever thought them gifts. Perhaps not ‘gifts from above’ this time, unless one considered the dragons towered above humans and thus were ‘above’ them.

Another gift would be allowing the prisoners to stand. While Semith might not see it that way, what with the rumors (and knowledge) that she was a ditsy dragon with the brain expanse of a firelizard, Ever saw it that way. She was proud to have made it this far in this Weyr with Bailey by her side; now, though, she had more to look forward to. Becoming a Weyrling, a dragonrider was a big step for the former Holder Lady. However, Ever knew that when she became a dragonrider, her world would turn upside down again. Can anyone say more chores, guarding, and longer hours?

Absently, Ever massaged her hands, which were still surprisingly not as calloused as many people’s hands when they worked labor like she and her fellow prisoners did nearly every day of their lives here. She had asked her question and now she wondered exactly what she wanted to bring as a gift for Semith whenever the touching would be.

Perhaps she could ask Bailey to find something shiny, something large and shiny. It wouldn’t hurt to ask him, and he liked getting things for her, no matter how stubborn and arrogant he could be. Somehow Ever realized she wouldn’t want something human in nature, either. Perhaps a shiny shell or something, but Ever couldn’t go to the beach… but Beiley could.

---

Tanyrion resituated himself. He had chosen the unfortunate position of sitting on his knees and now they hurt, so he moved until he was on his butt with his legs crossed in front of him. He continued to listen to the Weyrlingmaster but after a bit, Tany began to ignore him. Give the Gold a Gift and she’ll let you see her Eggs. What a strange thing. He wasn’t going to say it aloud, but there was something definitely off about the Gold.

Bury the eggs and they will come. Or something like that. Tany was intrigued by this little piece of evidence, and he wondered how many eggs were in the mounds and what would happen if someone were to, say, step on a mound because it looked like every other sand drift. He might as well have thought the sky was falling. Even if Semith were a flighty gold in disposition, he was sure her mothering instinct would be too much to let a stepped on egg go under a blind eye.

At the mention of something shiny in Tanyrion’s mind, Bitmap instantly shrugged himself awake. Shiny things? Bit liked shiny things, especially when he found them. That was about the only thing that Bitmap got excited about, and even then he could care less most of the time. Such a strange firelizard, Tany really couldn’t have expected any less from him. Images scrolled through his mind, of shiny pearls, of shiny necklaces, of the moon (which was shiny, of course) and of the moon’s reflection on the water. But nothing really sparked Tany’s interests for a golden Queen.

[Lesa]

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.

[lithle]

At the question, asked and seconded, about metallics, L'vey nodded, indicating he had heard but not yet answering. His attention was distracted by the bitter mutterings of one particular boy.

Who's that one? he asked Faeth, waiting until the dragon had found out the name from the guards before replying.

"Julian, I assure you, I have every faith in the ability of a prisoner to impress, and to be accepted by Weyr society, at least here at Warden's. The Warden may be concerned about the danger of putting a criminal on dragonback, but the man respects work. Anyone who proves themselves useful will find acceptance here, in time." His words were gentle, sad, and the look he gave Julian was one of open concern. He so hated hearing people so truly unhappy. "We can discuss this later, if you wish."

That said, he turned his attention back to the other speakers. One he recognized as Sheraz, the other he didn't know by name. It didn't matter. He'd know her soon enough, whether she impressed or not. He was doing his best to know everybody.

"On the subject of metallics, we suspect this clutch will most closely resemble a green firelizard clutch. Browns are possible, but no color larger than that. Semith has spoken of a 'shiny' as some of you may have heard. But Semith calls all her favorite things shiny. She's likely just become attached to a particular egg." He paused, aware he hadn't answered the question fully, but wanting that bit of information to soak in. It was best no candidate, prisoner or otherwise, get there hopes up.

"However, should a bronze or gold hatch, and should a prisoner impress that dragon, they will not be punished for doing so, nor would such a dragon be crippled without the causes mentioned previously. I can not promise that a former prisoner on a gold would ever be allowed to attain the same rank she might have achieved had she not committed a crime. It's unlikely she'd ever rise to Sr. Weyrwoman. It's possible that such a queen would be transferred to a Weyr with a more commanding Sr. Queen. That is, however, merely conjecture."

At last, he turned his gaze to Gwynell, and for a moment, he seemed almost to smile. Not quite, but the sadness that always haunted his expression lightened somewhat. "Journeywoman Gwynell, it's always gratifying to hear ideas that might encourage unity. The stone barracks exist so that they can be locked after curfew. I am not sure your fellow traditional candidates are equally interested in being locked in after dark. If you can convince them of the wisdom of your plan, perhaps it can be arranged." Such a statement might be snide coming from another man, but L'vey sounded genuine.

He lifted his gaze to the group as a whole again, "The stone barracks are currently only intended for use until the dragons reach seven months or so. That is, when those of you who impress reach the rank of Sr. Weyrling. At which time, I am sure, the Warden's concerns will have long since been proven baseless."