Lunch For One [open]

[Wren]

The days were all the same, at Warden’s Weyr, particularly if you were a prisoner like Sheraz. Every morning he woke up when the guards told him to, got up and dressed quickly because it was cold when one first got out of bed, bathed under supervision, ate his breakfast in the mess hall and then was sent out to work. Once his work was done he was brought back in and allowed to relax a little before curfew, at which point he would sleep, and the next day the cycle would begin again.

Sheraz hadn’t much minded at first; it was nice to have some structure in his once chaotic life. But now he was getting a little tired of the procedure, and was looking forward to something interesting happening. That something promised to come in several sevendays, when the clutch hatched, because all being well, he would be Standing there on the Sands when it happened. He desperately wanted to Impress, more because of the small increase in freedom it would bring than anything else, but being the optimist that he was, he thought that, if he didn’t at least he would have had a day of excitement.

But at present he was not having any fun at all. It was supposed to be lunch time, but for once he’d taken his meal back to the prison barracks rather than eat in the mess hall so that he could look after his little pet canine. Silence, who had earned his name for the exact opposite reason you might expect, had managed to get into a fight with another dog, a much larger one belonging to one of the guards, and the wound he’d received in the process was now swollen and looked distinctly infected. Sheraz had practically had to beg the healers to treat the stupid little creature, which went thoroughly against the prisoner's sense of pride, and when they’d finally applied some soothing cream or other they’d given firm instructions to not let Silence bite, scratch at, or otherwise touch the wound. Thus Sheraz had to keep the creature with him at all times, and if he ate in the mess hall, he was bound to get distracted by conversation and lose track of him. At least Silence was now curled up beside him on his cot asleep, not causing trouble, and Sheraz found it hard to be angry with the little creature who was the closest friend he had in the Weyr. Given the choice, he would much rather have been eating his soup in the mess hall with the others than stuck in here, but it didn't bother him too much; he'd get all the company he could wish for later.

[rain]

Bandit was bored today. Actually he was bored everyday. Staying out of trouble was a very boring business. He sighed and picked at the food that was on his tray. Jora must be very mad today, her meatloaf tasted like it nothing but red spices in it. It was all he could do to eat it without tears coming out of his eyes. He sighed again. Taking up his tray, he dumped it's contents into the nearest bin and left the tray on top. Maybe he could go check on his bunk mate. The man had acquired a new canine who was in really bad shape.

He nodded at the guards as he passed, using his usual charm to get by, they knew him as a decent fellow who was most likely framed and sent here. Poor fellow. Yeah, right. He was a mid-level Dust dealer that had been caught with his hands dirty. He was also a great money maker when it came to running gambling games. He could con almost anyone out of their money with his switching technique. Is the rock under the left coconut? Nope. Middle one? Nope. Right? I'm sorry, you're all out of guesses. Please pay to play again ( it wasn't in the right one either).

So with good humor, he walked through the barracks door and layed on the bed next to Sheraz and his mutt. "Waz up, my man. How's the old "k" nine doin?" He didn't much care for the "thing" Sheraz rescued but he took care not to say it out loud. He still had to keep up appearances or he'd never get out of this place, even when around his fellow prison-mates.

[Wren]

Sheraz brightened at the sound of footsteps, hoping it was a guard he could he could mildly antagonise for a little while. It was not, but it was someone interesting; the appropriately named Bandit, a fellow prisoner and candidate, and the person who slept in the bunk next to his. He smiled at the other man’s greeting, “Eh, breathin’.” He said, looking at the dog, who presently twitched in response to whatever dream he was having. “Not much more’n ‘at, though.” He added, and poked the little thing as if to see if he would wake up. The creature did wake enough to snarl at him and then go back to sleep again. Sheraz shrugged.

Despite how light-hearted he might sound, he really did hope that Silence recovered. The dog was stupid and annoying, it was true, but Sheraz had had him for a long time, about four Turns to be precise, and he still found the creature’s company comforting in the rough world he lived in now. He looked at Bandit. As far as the prisoners went, Bandit was a nicer guy than most. He’d been brought in for dust-dealing, like himself, and also like himself, he claimed to have never actually taken the drug himself. He wasn’t a trouble-maker, he was being good for the clutch, and yet he was a fun person to talk to.

Looking at him now though, Sheraz noticed that the man’s eyes were a little red and puffy, as if he’d recently been trying to stave off tears. Sheraz’s face broke into a rather devious grin, “Hey, man, what you been cryin’ about?” He asked, the amusement clear in his voice. He didn’t really think that Bandit had been properly crying, the man probably just had a cold or had been eating something to spicy, but Sheraz liked to tease people; it was a good way of making life less boring. He didn’t mean to be insulting, and that fact was evident in his voice, he just liked to play around a bit.

Presently he tipped the rest of the soup into his mouth and put the bowl under the bunk where it wouldn’t be stepped on. He flopped back against the wall, still grinning his wily grin

[rain]

Bandit laughed when Silent woke enough to growl at his handler then fell back asleep. The thing really wasn't worth the other man's effort. No wonder the guards let him keep it.

"Huh? Cryin?", he felt his eyes and realized they were teary. "Man, it was that new cooks meatloaf. The woman must have dumped all the spices in the Weyr to make that loaf. Shards, why do we have to get the worst of the worst?" Of course he knew the answer. They were prisoners, duh. Not worth the skum between the Warden's toes.

"I'll be glad when those eggs hatch. Maybe then we'll be treated with a little respect." Doubtful, but something to look forward too. "I'm hoping to get a bronze or maybe a big brown. How 'bout you?" He turned his head to look at the other man. Sheraz looked worth a brown, maybe even a small bronze. A blue and a gold was a strange match. Who knew what would happen?

[Wren]

Sheraz chuckled as Bandit described the new cook’s unusual style, his green-hazel eyes glinting with amusement, “Oh, I dunno’, man, if you ask me, anyone who chooses to work here is crazy, so the new cook prob’ly is too.” He paused for a moment, then added, “You think she made the soup as well? It tasted like runner’s piss smells.” He wrinkled his nose a bit at his own strange analogy, and peered down at the now empty bowl with a dubious expression. He’d only eaten it because he was hungry. That, he thought, was one of the worst things about being a prisoner at Warden’s; if you didn’t like the food or the clothes, you either had to just deal with it, or go without; there was no way to make things better for yourself. Often Sheraz found himself working in the fields, making his back stiff, and wondering where all the good vegetables he planted ended up; they certainly weren’t in his meals.

“Yeah, me too.” He agreed, when Bandit mentioned the clutch, then he looked up quickly, “Bronze? Sure a bronze, if there are any. Don’t think there will be though, seeing as ol’ papa-dragon is just a blue.” Sheraz had heard several people saying that the clutch might not hatch at all, but he felt sure that they would; they had to, or he’d go back to just being an ordinary, bored, well-behaved prisoner. He was not convinced that there’d be anything better than a green or blue though, and even then, he had a horrible fear that some of them might be deformed, like their one-winged mother. “Tell the truth, I wouldn’t say no to the teeniest green Pern’s ever seen if it means I don’t got to spend all day in the fields.”

Sheraz was a suitably arrogant and confident man to think that if there was a bronze, he’d get one. Seeing as that seemed unlikely in this clutch, he wasn’t setting his heart on it; beggars couldn’t be choosers, and if a little dragon would do the job of getting him a bit more freedom, he’d be happy with that. He smiled a bit then, “’Sides, once the hatching’s over they’ll have to treat us with more respect, or we’ll set our dragons on them.” This was not true of course; aside from the fact that dragons could not physically harm a human, Sheraz was not a violent person by nature. It still felt good to say it, though.

[rain]

Bandit laughed at his friend's description of the soup. "No doubt all the best food goes to the guards and we get what's left. Dog scraps." He almost drooled at the thought of what the guards must be eating. Roasted herdbeast glazed with honey, sitting in the middle of a large table filled with dishes of tubers and greens. And don't forget the dessert! Shaved ices with fruit juices soaking through them. Mmm.... But it was not to be.

He tried to distract himself and commented on Sheraz's comment. "Yeah, you're probably right about that. They might end up just being over sized firelizards." An almost sad statement, he had been looking forward to flying free. Even if it was limited freedom. It was a chance at it though and that's what mattered.

Bandit listened to Sheraz again as he talked about setting his dragon on people. "Ha, yeah right. There was a small twist to our even standing in the first place. One toe out of line and L'vey has to cripple the dragon." Whether the rumor of the agreement was true or not didn't matter. Dragons don't attack humans and dragons don't attack dragons. The world was just stuck the way it was. A shiver went down Bandit's spine as he imagined a dragon attacking a human. That would be terrifying.

"Are we allowed a chance to touch the eggs before they hatch?", he asked. It would be something to look forward to.

[Wren]

Oversized firelizards? The thought was an unpleasant one, but it did bring to mind some rather amusing mental images, given the hyper nature of flitters, he couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought of the havoc one the size of a horse would wreak. The thought of having the young dragons crippled though, was not amusing in any way, shape or form; they couldn’t really do that, could they? Sheraz had only really seen dragons from afar, with them circling over him as he worked in the fields, but already he had developed a healthy respect and fascination for them, he didn’t understand how anyone could deliberately hurt one. But then he put the thought from his mind, giving himself a mental shake; he was starting to get soft.

“Ugh, I bet the warden made him say that, that guy needs to lighten up a bit.” Sheraz grumbled What I wanna’ know is, once we do have a dragon, what’s to stop us from just flying away? They can’t put walls round the whole sky.” He’d seen dragons disappear from one place and reappear in another, seconds later. If he could do that, he could go anywhere in the world. The problem of course, was where would he go? Back to the streets? He’d rather stay in prison; at least he didn’t have to worry about getting a knife through his ribs while he slept here.

At the question he nodded, brightening at the thought; “Well, we’re s’posed to, but the guards say that the gold dragon buried ‘em all, soon as she laid ‘em, so if we wanna’ see ‘em we’re gonna’ have to dig ‘em out, first.” That would be annoying, Sheraz thought, but he wouldn’t mind; digging eggs out would be far more interesting than digging weeds out. He didn’t really understand how it was supposed to help; the guards said something about the dragonets getting a feel for one’s mind, but that sounded rather stupid. Regardless, if it meant he had a better chance at Impression, Sheraz would dig every egg out the sand by himself and then rebury it, and he was just glad that he didn’t have to.