Self-Medication [Open!]

Kerrin's face seemed to fall slightly when Talian announced his craft, but the boy quickly recovered, his grin falling easily back into place. "Fifteen turns, same as everyone else," he answered Talian's question, the cheer in his tone continuing unabated despite that slight faltering of seconds before. "I crossed over with my father when I was just three turns old!" he added, holding up the appropriate number of fingers and beaming with pride as if he flown across that stormy ocean himself. It didn't occur to him that Talian might disapprove of his being weyrfolk; after all, the man had seemed to open to conversation until now, and besides that the boy had grown up knowing close to nothing of the North or its people. Katila Weyr was Home, dragons were Life, and Kerrin could never entirely comprehend why anyone should be reluctant to live among them... especially when Katilans had worked so very hard to accomplish everything they had here on the Southern continent, and toiled more and more every day to provide for both themselves and the growing number of Candidates brought over with hopes of their Impressing to Nirinath's impending clutch.

And the thought that a Candidate might not want to Impress, after coming all the way here! Now that was just downright crazy.

Feeling satisfied with his self-introduction, and still completely oblivious to both Talian's discomfort at Par'a's sudden appearance as well as the fact that he may have just soured the trembling healer's opinion of him, Kerrin finally sat back down before his plate of food, simultaneously tearing off a large chunk of his hard-won sweetroll and turning his attention towards the greenrider. "Grith?" he repeated, and thought for a moment while chewing on his breakfast. "Haven't seen her. Sounds like you might need her help if you're gonna get Lym's bag, though. I'd ask Zhiranth but he doesn't always hear me," the boy added with apologetic glances to both Lymsleia and the greenrider beside him. His bond with Zhiranth, his father's dragon, was strong - the great brown beast had more or less helped raise him - but Kerrin was very aware that it would never be a match the sort of intimate connection that existed between a pair-bonded rider and his dragon. Asking him for favors when he was not already present was not always within the realm of possibility, no matter how loudly Kerrin thought he was mentally calling upon him.

Of course, there was always the option of sending someone to physically run to Healer Hall for it. Kerrin knew, however, the problem with that course of action: the task would naturally fall to him, he being the youngest present at the table. He certainly wouldn't be the one to suggest it. With that thought in mind, the boy tucked into his breakfast with vigor, and attempted to look as busy as one possibly could with eating. Lymsleia's last statement, however, caught his attention.

"What do you mean he's not usually like this?" Kerrin sounded disappointed, almost. Just when he thought he could forgive Talian for being another healer... not that healers were bad people or anything, but he really did hate the way they so often smelled of herbs and another nasty medicinal things.