Wine Dark Sky

The sun had long since set, but only now was Allendris making his way back from the Craft Hall to his hut, after yet another full day's attempt at somehow making himself useful in this new place. His new home, he reminded himself, whether he liked it or not - though on that count he hadn't quite decided. The weyrfolk of Katila were kind enough, and their beasts glorious to behold, but with each passing day he noticed more and more sad, frustrated, and angry faces among the Stolen Candidate-potentials such as himself. And who could blame them? They had been snatched away from their homes with no prior warning, torn from their crafts and families, thrown into a hard and unfamiliar life without any of the modern conveniences to which they had all grown accustomed... the dragonriders had no choice, he'd been told. Hatchlings must be Impressed and to not find a suitable mate meant sure suicide for a valuable dragonet. But he'd learned enough about the legends of dragons in his youth - and gathered enough new information here from the lips of anyone who was willing to talk, for a ravenous gathering of facts was one thing he'd set himself to almost single-mindedly since his arrival - to suspect that a room full of sullen orphans were not the most ideal Candidates one could present a clutch.

Which was precisely why the journeyman was attempting to keep an, at worst, ambivalent attitude about his present situation. He was a logical enough man to understand what he did and didn't have a choice about. Being here at Katila Weyr fell into the latter category. As such, he had resolved that he would not be responsible for the premature death of a dragon. With no glass to smith - at least, not until he and Katila's few other smithies pulled together the materials and equipment with which to do it - his new duty was to be the best Candidate he could possibly be. When put like that, it was a simple choice to make... but not all of his Stolen fellows were as capable of sorting their present circumstances into such neat rows of black and white.

As if in living illustration of this very thought, a discordant melody of choking sobs rose to the young man's ears, directing his attention towards the lone feminine figure crouched by a small fire, its flickering flames offering just enough light for him to see the tears that rolled down her cheeks. Allendris froze a moment, wondering if the woman would be embarrassed to be seen in such a state, and if then the most polite thing to do would be to hurry on along as if he had never seen anything. But the woman paid him no mind. Indeed, it was as if she were incapable of noticing anything beyond whatever pain she was contemplating as she stared into the fire.

Allendris looked over his shoulder. There was no one else around, and it seemed wrong to leave a young woman alone in such a state. He thought he saw her shivering, and wondered if she might need a blanket or a coat, though the weather was warm and the fire even warmer. Pointedly he cleared his throat, making sure she knew she was not alone and therefore would not be too startled when he crouched uninvited beside the tiny bonfire and quietly asked, "Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"