Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
21.Mar.12, 05:05 AM
Kerrin took a deep breath, finally willing himself to rise from the water of his bath. It had felt nice to revisit the simple pleasure of getting clean after having hermited himself away for so long, but he couldn't linger there all day. Despite the odd time of day for it, was just a matter of time until someone got the mind to take a bath and joined him, and the moody boy still didn't particularly want to see or talk to anyone right then.
It had been a long, hard, and raw three days since the World Above Hatching, and Kerrin had spent the vast majority of it hiding away in his father's hut, curled up in his old bed or at Zhiranth's side when the brown wasn't working, giving him baths and tending to him in his rider's stead. B'ker had indulged this need in his son to cloister himself away in these old and familiar routines of his childhood, but still asked every day when the boy intended to return to the Candidate Barracks, much to the weyrbrat's increasing irritation. Why would he want to go back there, he would always spit with the utmost of contempt. Hanging around with the other failed Candidate's would provide no solace for him; the vast majority of them were Stolen Northern trash anyway. All of them would be whining about going back home, no doubt, something the weyr-bred boy couldn't relate with at all, and quickly grew tired of hearing about. No, their company would be no comfort at all, nor would anyone's as far as he'd been concerned. What would anyone else know of what it felt to be considered one of the Weyr's most promising Candidates for so long, only to be met with solid rejection on Hatching Day?
Of course, on some level that wasn't really buried that far beneath his disappointment and self-pity, Kerrin knew that what both Ayyonth and Zhiranth had told him after the Hatching was right. It hadn't been his fault, they had assured him; none of those dragonets were a good match for him. Ayyonth had even gone so far as to use the words not worthy, though Zhiranth's naturally less dramatic nature had made his reassurances slightly less melodramatic and more a simple statement of, in the older dragon's mind, irrefutable fact. Both beasts knew Kerrin well, and he could trust that they weren't lying just to make him feel better. Shells, he grew up in the Weyr; he knew very well without having to be told that a failure to Impress at one's first Standing didn't necessarily mean that one wasn't suited to a bond with a dragon. Often, was just a matter of circumstances and timing.
That hadn't made watching each of his friends walk off one-by-one with their own dragonet while he was left standing alone any easier, though. Nor did it instill in him any immediate desire to attend the Hatching feast and congratulate new dragonriders who hadn't even want that honor to begin with, and surely didn't even begin to fully appreciate what they had been blessed with that day.
And then there was Indivara, whose blood had covered his Candidate robes that day. He had visited her as soon and as often as he could, though in her initial shock and disorientation it was likely she hadn't noticed that. Still, he had been relieved to hear that the younger weyrbrat would eventually heal without any permanent disability or ill-effect. She would have scars, of course, but she would be able to eat and talk normally once her wounds had completely healed.
Kerrin didn't think he would have been able to handle the days after Hatching at all if the news had been worse. With these thoughts playing over and over again his his tired mind, the weyrbrat and former Candidate toweled off, dressed, tended to his hair... all around making himself look more respectable than he had looked in days. He looked normal, even, though he didn't especially feel it. He'd been running on a natural high in the days leading up to the Hatching, and the emotional crash was proving difficult to claw his way out of.
Ready to take care of the finishing touches on his appearance, the boy made his way to the communal dressing room that housed the bathing houses' coveted full-length mirrors. Seeing the unexpected movement of another body in the room, Kerrin froze for a second, realizing with a moment's dismay that he would not get to finish his routine in the perfect solitude that he'd been aiming for. It was a disappointment that dissipated as soon as the weyrbrat realized who it was standing before the other mirror, though. And she looked good, dressed in a fine pair of pants and a flattering low-cut blouse that brought out the unusual bright blue of her eyes. In fact, the whole outfit was so tasteful that Kerrin was convinced at once that the girl couldn't have possibly chosen it herself, though he wasn't beyond hoping that a compliment would encourage his younger friend to wear such finery more often.
"You look good," the teen said simply, coming up beside her to inspect his own reflection in the other mirror. A small smile played on his lips, though Indivara couldn't possibly know how long it had been since that expression had graced his youthful features. Kerrin left it at that, as he adjusted his vest and knotted belt in his usual style-conscious way, seeming to pay no mind to her stitched-up wounds at all. Why should he? He'd already seen them up close, and the sight was nothing new to him.
It had been a long, hard, and raw three days since the World Above Hatching, and Kerrin had spent the vast majority of it hiding away in his father's hut, curled up in his old bed or at Zhiranth's side when the brown wasn't working, giving him baths and tending to him in his rider's stead. B'ker had indulged this need in his son to cloister himself away in these old and familiar routines of his childhood, but still asked every day when the boy intended to return to the Candidate Barracks, much to the weyrbrat's increasing irritation. Why would he want to go back there, he would always spit with the utmost of contempt. Hanging around with the other failed Candidate's would provide no solace for him; the vast majority of them were Stolen Northern trash anyway. All of them would be whining about going back home, no doubt, something the weyr-bred boy couldn't relate with at all, and quickly grew tired of hearing about. No, their company would be no comfort at all, nor would anyone's as far as he'd been concerned. What would anyone else know of what it felt to be considered one of the Weyr's most promising Candidates for so long, only to be met with solid rejection on Hatching Day?
Of course, on some level that wasn't really buried that far beneath his disappointment and self-pity, Kerrin knew that what both Ayyonth and Zhiranth had told him after the Hatching was right. It hadn't been his fault, they had assured him; none of those dragonets were a good match for him. Ayyonth had even gone so far as to use the words not worthy, though Zhiranth's naturally less dramatic nature had made his reassurances slightly less melodramatic and more a simple statement of, in the older dragon's mind, irrefutable fact. Both beasts knew Kerrin well, and he could trust that they weren't lying just to make him feel better. Shells, he grew up in the Weyr; he knew very well without having to be told that a failure to Impress at one's first Standing didn't necessarily mean that one wasn't suited to a bond with a dragon. Often, was just a matter of circumstances and timing.
That hadn't made watching each of his friends walk off one-by-one with their own dragonet while he was left standing alone any easier, though. Nor did it instill in him any immediate desire to attend the Hatching feast and congratulate new dragonriders who hadn't even want that honor to begin with, and surely didn't even begin to fully appreciate what they had been blessed with that day.
And then there was Indivara, whose blood had covered his Candidate robes that day. He had visited her as soon and as often as he could, though in her initial shock and disorientation it was likely she hadn't noticed that. Still, he had been relieved to hear that the younger weyrbrat would eventually heal without any permanent disability or ill-effect. She would have scars, of course, but she would be able to eat and talk normally once her wounds had completely healed.
Kerrin didn't think he would have been able to handle the days after Hatching at all if the news had been worse. With these thoughts playing over and over again his his tired mind, the weyrbrat and former Candidate toweled off, dressed, tended to his hair... all around making himself look more respectable than he had looked in days. He looked normal, even, though he didn't especially feel it. He'd been running on a natural high in the days leading up to the Hatching, and the emotional crash was proving difficult to claw his way out of.
Ready to take care of the finishing touches on his appearance, the boy made his way to the communal dressing room that housed the bathing houses' coveted full-length mirrors. Seeing the unexpected movement of another body in the room, Kerrin froze for a second, realizing with a moment's dismay that he would not get to finish his routine in the perfect solitude that he'd been aiming for. It was a disappointment that dissipated as soon as the weyrbrat realized who it was standing before the other mirror, though. And she looked good, dressed in a fine pair of pants and a flattering low-cut blouse that brought out the unusual bright blue of her eyes. In fact, the whole outfit was so tasteful that Kerrin was convinced at once that the girl couldn't have possibly chosen it herself, though he wasn't beyond hoping that a compliment would encourage his younger friend to wear such finery more often.
"You look good," the teen said simply, coming up beside her to inspect his own reflection in the other mirror. A small smile played on his lips, though Indivara couldn't possibly know how long it had been since that expression had graced his youthful features. Kerrin left it at that, as he adjusted his vest and knotted belt in his usual style-conscious way, seeming to pay no mind to her stitched-up wounds at all. Why should he? He'd already seen them up close, and the sight was nothing new to him.
