20.Jan.12, 03:20 AM
Larrikith couldn't think, and thinking was precisely what she needed to be doing at this very moment. Before her, in a room smaller than her body, and making a lot of noise (both in a literal sense, and in a manner of the bonded) were two men who were severely freaking out over something that could have been avoided, if either of them had bothered to introduce themselves before things were taken into accordance. Larrikith was a clever Searcher, and she was particularly proud of her ability to slip into an unsuspecting mind and poke around. Usually, she could easily inform B'jin of which - who - to avoid. Unfortunately, the young man in the room appeared to be one of those that did not have the ability to praise himself - or accept anyone that did it for him. Had he been a little more thoughtful, she could have found out he was a Master - in whatever manner - and they would have left him behind.
But no, no. Larrikith jerked her head, trying to physically separate her thoughts from B'jin's, and in the process cracked her head against the window frame above her. The sound of a dragon skull and heavy wooden frame coming together was rather loud and sickening. B'jin, mind-linked, yelped in agony and clapped his hands to the back of his head, blinking spots that weren't a physical effect of his own body. Larrikith, too, yelped and the sound echoed in the small house as her eyes flashed blood red and whirled rapidly in pain.
"Larri!" B'jin, forgetting for the moment all about the young healer who should not have been a Master, rushed to his dragon's head and began stroking her nose and crooning nonsense under his breath. After a moment, it appeared that the hard whack to the back of the head had settled both dragon and rider, who turned their attention, as one, upon the bemoaning Talian.
"I exist," B'jin stated solemnly. "For now," he added, under his breath. "When D'ren finds out you're a master I may or may not survive." His lips pursed, and he took a seat, rubbing the bridge of his nose as Larrikith snorted a gusty breath out.
"My name is B'jin, and I am a Searchrider of Larrikith, my green." B'jin indicated, perhaps unnecessarily, his green dragon. She was watching, her chin resting on the lower window frame. Her eyes looked slightly dull as she nursed a headache. "We were sent to the North to find potential candidates. Our Weyrwoman's gold, Nirinath, flew in Mid Spring, and her clutch will be upon the Sands before we know it. Depending on how you take to your new life here at Katila, will dictate your ability to Stand, and chances of Impression." The man paused, and brushed a hand over his face, looking tired. It was a change in expression that almost made him look his near-fifty turns, instead of the twenty odd he seemed to appear the majority of the time. "You're being a Master is going to cause a great deal of complications. Only those of Journeyman rank or below are eligible to be Searched, and I highly doubt our Weyrleader is going to be very happy with me over this. Unfortunately," B'jin continued, dipping his quill and absently drawing in the other corner of the sheet, "you cannot be returned to the North."
But no, no. Larrikith jerked her head, trying to physically separate her thoughts from B'jin's, and in the process cracked her head against the window frame above her. The sound of a dragon skull and heavy wooden frame coming together was rather loud and sickening. B'jin, mind-linked, yelped in agony and clapped his hands to the back of his head, blinking spots that weren't a physical effect of his own body. Larrikith, too, yelped and the sound echoed in the small house as her eyes flashed blood red and whirled rapidly in pain.
"Larri!" B'jin, forgetting for the moment all about the young healer who should not have been a Master, rushed to his dragon's head and began stroking her nose and crooning nonsense under his breath. After a moment, it appeared that the hard whack to the back of the head had settled both dragon and rider, who turned their attention, as one, upon the bemoaning Talian.
"I exist," B'jin stated solemnly. "For now," he added, under his breath. "When D'ren finds out you're a master I may or may not survive." His lips pursed, and he took a seat, rubbing the bridge of his nose as Larrikith snorted a gusty breath out.
"My name is B'jin, and I am a Searchrider of Larrikith, my green." B'jin indicated, perhaps unnecessarily, his green dragon. She was watching, her chin resting on the lower window frame. Her eyes looked slightly dull as she nursed a headache. "We were sent to the North to find potential candidates. Our Weyrwoman's gold, Nirinath, flew in Mid Spring, and her clutch will be upon the Sands before we know it. Depending on how you take to your new life here at Katila, will dictate your ability to Stand, and chances of Impression." The man paused, and brushed a hand over his face, looking tired. It was a change in expression that almost made him look his near-fifty turns, instead of the twenty odd he seemed to appear the majority of the time. "You're being a Master is going to cause a great deal of complications. Only those of Journeyman rank or below are eligible to be Searched, and I highly doubt our Weyrleader is going to be very happy with me over this. Unfortunately," B'jin continued, dipping his quill and absently drawing in the other corner of the sheet, "you cannot be returned to the North."