Chilly Getaway [S'bel]

It was just about midday when Sennia made her way outside of the commons room on the first floor, and after tugging on a jacket, made to wait outside. There was a chill in the air that prompted her to hug the simple leather coat closer and hold her arms against her body, but she didn’t go back inside. There wasn’t much within anyways – just the reconstructed bedrooms and the common areas that she’d never really felt comfortable in. She was a repeatedly failed candidate. There were other women, like her, of course. And it could just be that she’d end up the dragonless breeder for weyrbrats. The same as her life had been before being stolen, save there were dragons here and her farm was much smaller. Given the slow way this new life was starting to match up with her old, it was hard not to compare them.

She'd been born to have babies, apparently. No matter where she went, it was all that seemed to be asked of her.

There was a fear she felt every time there was a clutch. The fear of being rejected by the dragons. Reminding her constantly that she’d been stolen and had not lived up to the hopes that had come with it. What’s more, there was nothing she could do to ensure she impressed. There was no test to take, no task to do. The dragon would either bond to who she was, or it would not. There simply was no way of knowing how things might play out for her save to go through every day with a slowly dwindling sense of hope.

This was why she hated not having anything to do. If her hands were busy, if she could keep at the various chores or foraging, she wouldn’t have to be lost in those fears. So, though it concerned her immensely that she would be on dragon back to the foraging area, at least it was a way to stay busy. Foraging in the cold was something no one really wanted to do so volunteers were few and far between. Sennia volunteered as often as possible. Hunting for needlethorn, numbweed, and hazel in chilly winds was, actually, quite invigorating. She liked the flush of heat on her cheeks and the small, albeit silly, triumph of contributing something to the cause of the Weyr that didn't involve a babe growing inside of her. It was through the merit of her tasks and the collection of necessary goods that she wished to be known.

She was excited that it would be S’bel taking her. Friends were scarce here, and the time to be friendly more so, but she found herself rather fond of the blue rider. He was one of the few to actually give her some of his time and, maybe there was a hint of desperation in her, but she certainly needed a friend. Her farm life might have been droll by comparison, but she’d felt wanted. Needed.

That did not extend to the Weyr. At first she'd bore some resentment for being taken away. Until the shock took over that she was really at a weyr, swiftly followed by the resounding sense that she didn't really fit in.

Sennia looked down at her worn boots, kicking at the hard ground as she waited his arrival. The faint hum of a song she’d heard when she was a little girl slipped out in her anxiousness. Utterly unaware, she even rocked slightly to the tune. Anything to keep her moving, even while she was waiting. To chase away the thoughts of fear and the possible failure of ever impressing at all. And when S’bel was around, those thoughts disappeared entirely. He was active enough to keep her attention invested. Perhaps that, more than anything, was why she wished he were here presently and not keeping her waiting. It was in this anxious state she remained, humming quietly.