World of Pern
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2023/08/04 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!
2023/01/07 Welcome to the New Year! We are now ELEVEN years old! Thank you, all of you, for your love and writing! I am looking forward to spending another year with youall! In addition, a new Default colour scheme is in progress and will hopefully be available soon! All my love! ThistleProse
2022/07/29 Gold Malvayth and Bronze Xyxyth clutch is Hatching! Come and join the shenannigans 743.08.03 | NIGHT STALKERS HATCHING and bring the popcorn!
2022/05/11 Gold Malvayth has Flown, caught by Bronze Xyxyth of A'tay. Their Hatching will be PC, and take place in Telgar in August around the 20-22nd! Update your Candidate Applications and prepare for some fun!
2022/04/21 New default layout! I hope you enjoy it! If you find any bugs, please report them in the discord #bug-squishing channel!
05/JUL It’s Hatching time!! Come take part in the shenanigans here
30/JUN Gold Thallyath of Ista Weyr has laid a clutch! More information here
27/JUN A bluerider, and then a greenrider, are found dead. More information here
25/JUN The Touching is up! Take part here
30/MAY After the Touching, many Candidates found themselves preyed upon in the form of their food. More information here
18/MAY Another goldrider - Ameris of Benden - is attacked. More information here
05/MAY Multiple individuals are attacked whilest out of the Weyr! More information here
04/MAY Take a chance OOC and guess who you think the murderer is! You can win prizes! More information here
03/MAY Goldrider Cazan and her twin brother Cazelarias are attacked. More information here
24/APR Goldrider Ashara of Fort is murdered by two brownriders. More information here
12/APR Searchrider B’jin was attacked at Telgar Weyr, surffering a slash to his throat. While in Benden, bluerider B’dor is found dead in his weyr. More info here
05/APRMore attacks occurred today. More information here
03/APRMultiple individuals found their death this day; more information here and here
28/MAR Tragedy has struck again! Across all the Weyrs, multiple people - primarily dragonriders - have fallen ill after eating muffins. There have been multiple deaths, and others are in criticle condition. More information here
24/MAR Weyrwoman Ameris and her son, Rislan, poisoned! More information here
18/MAR Benden’s Weyrleader M’ris and his children have been poisoned! Resulting in sickness and death. More information here
18/MAROn 18.03.742 Bronzerider A’dris of Vyaniorth was found dead in his personal bathing pool. He appears to have drowned after drinking an excess of alcohol. Afterwards it was realized that Machiya of Gold Cameth from Telgar Weyr had disappeared. Having never arrived at her destination, it is suspected she had an accident between.
11/MAR Gold Racoth of Donmaline went between taking Bronze Beruth of T’rel with her shortly after she had been caught, due to T’rel strangling Donmaline. He did not survive. more info
25/FEB Congratulations and thank-you to Guest for taking on a moderator role! <3
14/FEB Stars Above PC Hatching Link
06/JAN :o new layout is a WiP. Please report bugs in Discord.
01/JAN Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!




Currently: Spring 03.745 al
Monthly Event
2024-February
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Welcome to the Month of Lovetm! This month's Monthly Event is all about Romance, whether it is asking someone out on a date, or getting sweaty between the sheets! Anything and everything counts, if it even looks sideways like it could be related to Valentine Day -- including lover's spats, or breaking up, Flights Wins (or Flight Losses!). Honestly, this month has a huge opportunity for interpertation, so go wild!



2023-December
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Ahh, the fresh snow, the crisp air, the naked trees... welcome to Winter! Or, just the Colder Months for those in the more Northern Weyrs, while Ista is just... not as hot. But it is time to enjoy the end of the Turn, so folks should get together, spend some time gossiping, and drinking Hot Chocolate (alcohol and marshmallows opional)... does Pern even have marshmallows????? (they do now!)



2023-November
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Feel like bitching? Wanna take part in a brawl? Or bet on someone? Take part in Brawls and Bitching this month! Boo-yeah!



2023-October
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Thistle flunked this month; You can still post until the end of November as a result <3
Experience, tell or hide from a Spooky Story!



2023-September
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The flu is running rampant, colds are clogging noses, and someone might have lost a limb?



2023-August
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Partake this month by going fishing... or anything that occurs while fishing, or dealing with fish!



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[G] [C] 733.03.13 | A Hard Day's Work [Oahvakeen]

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Written By: ZZZ Archived
#1
Krypth had Flown, and soon enough that would mean a clutch on the Hatching Sands. For now this meant preparing the hatching area for the inevitable clutching, which was how Isscer found himself with a wooden rake in hand, tramping from the kitchens to the Hatching Circuit. It was morning, but already the humidity and heat were stifling; Isscer grumbled a curse as he went on his way, wishing for a day that wasn’t hot.

A clutch meant another opportunity for candidacy, and that thought was never far from Isscer’s mind. It lingered there, taking root, tormenting him as he dreamed of eggshells broken around his feet and no Impression--how each time brought an immense sense of relief. He was not sure he wanted to Impress, but was not stupid enough to withdraw his name from the lists of candidates. He had a number of Turns left yet before he could safely withdraw to the sidelines, busy himself with the grain output of the Weyr, and hope for a return North.

Isscer was one of the Stolen who had been at Katila Weyr the longest, and he had seen many of his fellow Stolen Impress. Once there was Impression, there was no leaving--where would a weyrling dragonpair go? It was better to not Impress and keep on practicing his Craft; there was security there, it was safe. Candidate classes were a formality, at least for Isscer. With work, there was escape, as well as a way to get the impending fear of a new clutch out of his mind.

The Hatching Sands were warm, and Isscer seemed to break out in even more of a sweat as he started at the back of the Hatching area, thinking it best to start at the back now before the noonday sun began to beat down. “Sharding heat!” He shook his head, irritated already, and began to angrily rake the sand back and forth. “I don’t see how this is helping,” he grumbled, casting a weary eye at the expanses of sand. “Do dragons really care if the sand is lumpy?”

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#2
When Oahvakeen was Stolen, Isscer was already there. He'd probably seen glimpses of the man here and there, but honestly, for Oahvakeen, unless he'd had a long and memorable conversation, that person simply didn't exist in his world. He had been Searched for his good skill in metalcraft and brought in as a Candidate. But he had been avoiding the task as much as possible. So far, his methods included standing as much away from the hatchings as possible, and repeating his mantra, "Please don't pick me, I don't want a dragon" all in his head. So far, it had worked.

Volunteers were needed to clean out the hatching sands, and Oahvakeen was sent to the task as punishment. His instructor had advised him to come in to work on an irregular day for extra hours, and even though Oahvakeen had adamantly refused and spent the day sleeping, he had still been chalked up as insubordination and failing to show up for work.

"I don't get what the big deal is about dragons. Everyone going around with a dragon here, a dragon there, as if Katila were just a crazy lady's pet-hoarding home. ", he mumbled beneath his breath as he walked into the vast room, sands too hot for bare feet. He wasn't even going to begin to mention how odd it was to see people talking to themselves all the time, only to realize later that they were talking to their dragons.

"Technically, no. But the brooding queen is already extremely agitated, so consistency is a slight comfort. Anything that the Weyr can do to make her feel more comfortable. It's like giving a menstruating women some herbal tea. The majority of the lumpiness is from the dragonet's hatching. All the egg goop and shell shards  get stuck to the sand and form lumps, like how an oyster gets a grain of sand caught and covers it with its saliva to make it more comfortable and it eventually turns into a pearl. I remember a healer saying that pimples and acne were basically the same reaction. I heard a rumor, that once, on a different planet, the terrain was rocky and dry, and they would take care of their fields the same way as these sands, raking straight lines through all the rocks and stones and pebbles to make the rocks more orderly.", he wasn't spoken to, but he couldn't help replying.

Oahvakeen looked down at the man's legs. "Try two pairs of socks next time. It seems too hot, but it provides extra comfort and shielding from the heat and your body sweat gets caught up in the material and becomes like an ice pack against your skin to cool you down. You'd stink more, of course, but I find it always gets the job done. ", he gestured to his own legs where he wore a standard-issue pair of shoes and three pairs of socks, almost as thick as a cast.

"You don't look like you volunteered for this task, today. Did you get into trouble, like me?", he inquired.

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#3
The shock of orange hair was familiar, and it had Isscer wracking his brain as he stared, trying to put a face with the name. It was lucky for him that there weren’t that many male candidate/craftsmen with orange hair; he shot Oahvakeen a look as he gestured at his socks, mouth twisting into a look of disbelief. “I’m surprised you haven’t fainted dead away,” Isscer pointed out, a hint of a sly smile curling the corners of his mouth up.

He dressed in the loosest, lightest clothing he could find, and Isscer still ended up drenched in sweat. There was no way he’d layer anything--he would overheat and get sick, and the slightest hint of any sickness was enough to cause a Weyr-wide panic. “Hardly!” Isscer was good at keeping his head down, though this was primarily because he wasn’t quite sure what he, as one person, could do. The amount of lashings increasing over the Turns hadn’t helped either. “I volunteered to help with the kitchen gardens, but somehow I ended up getting assigned to this detail instead.” He could have been more helpful in the gardens, probably, but he was already here.

“Oahvakeen. That’s who you are.” Isscer bent to pluck an especially large clump of debris from the sand, wincing at the heat of it before he ground it between his fingers to break it up. “I’m Isscer.” He smiled in greeting, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Once you’ve lived here a few years, the faces all blur together. I remembered your hair.” Isscer gestured at Oahvakeen’s orange hair, lifting his shoulders in a shrug as he half-turned.

“If we start in opposite corners and work towards the middle, that might make more sense than just raking anywhere we please,” he observed, more comfortable settling down to work than to continue making small talk. Oahvakeen ought to have considered himself privileged; already Isscer felt like he had done more talking to him than to anyone he could lately recall. “Where’s your rake?”

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#4
He considered the man's first reply carefully. "I usually pass out after four or five hours. It seems to be the trend. At least the healing hall's doctors are good looking and non-assuming. If you really want to go there that way though, it helps to avoid drinking water, so you get dizzy and things.", he explained. He hadn't grasped that it was a sort of joke, a masculine greeting and ice-breaker of sorts.

"The kitchen gardens? That's full of dirt and bugs and plants. Why would you want to do that? At least with the sands, you don't have mud under  your fingernails and the climate is constant and monotonous, the perfect place to daydream while you work. I prefer working with metal as to anything else, though. "

When the man said his name out loud, Oahvakeen paused, and his expression contorted to what a cucumber must feel like while mutating into a pickle: confused. "Who's that?", he asked aloud. The realization clicked as a light in his eyes and a visible change in his eyebrows. "Oh. Who are you-oh. Oh. Isscer, huh? I don't remember very much, were you my bunkmate at one time?"

"Yeah, that sounds good, starting towards the middle and raking to the corners. My rake?" He looked at his empty hands, and then broke into a jog, heading out the door, which began a glacial-speed journey back to its latch, but never arrived there, as Oahvakeen had returned with a rake and a bucket. He plopped the bucket down on the sands next to him as he began to work. He let the rake fall into the sand and then guided it across, the surface, creating parallel lines, and stopping when he had unearthed a medium-sized sand clod into the metal prongs. He made his way to the bucket, dumped it in, as if it were dung, and then walked back to where he was before, to repeat the process over again.

"Do you know any songs? You know, manly songs to help pass the time. Or, are there any songs that girls like? I've been thinking about finding someone to be my weyrmate so that folks will hopefully forget about my Candidacy. "

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#5
“I’d remember someone like you,” Isscer answered after a moment of consideration, though it appeared to go unheard; Oahvakeen was sprinting off in the other direction, and Isscer was left watching him, a curious expression on his face. He had roomed with plenty of other Candidates over the Turns, but it seemed that Oahvakeen was one of the oddest he had met. Chatty, but there was an innate awkwardness there that seemed to make Isscer feel better about himself; he would certainly never talk so much about silly things.

He didn’t even have time to begin raking before Oahvakeen was back, hardly looking winded. Isscer was still in the same place he had been, but had the decency to not look absolutely gobsmacked, turning away to begin his own raking. It wasn’t quite unlike plowing, now that he thought about it, and the neat lines did make it look better--hopefully Krypth would be pleased. He had forgotten his bucket, but made do by forming a pile for larger clumps at the edge of the Hatching Sands.

Isscer wasn’t expecting more conversation, and he choked at the mention of a weyrmate, face going red quickly. “Weyrmate?” He twisted around quickly enough that the rake was jostled, the line curving and ruining the furrow. “I... don’t know anything about girls,” he answered honestly, face flushed red even to the tops of his ears. Isscer’s first, and to this date only, relationship had been with a fellow male Farmcrafter--a rushed, bumbling courtship that had been kept secret due to the Hall’s morals and ended when they had both received their Journeyman’s knots.

He had not even thought about taking a weyrmate as a means to avoid Candidacy; emotional ties were weakening, after all, especially if the weyrmate would happen to be a dragonrider. It would be hard to hate what your weyrmate was, especially if you genuinely cared for them. But he couldn’t help the way he looked at Oahvakeen then--considering, Isscer looked him over from head to foot, and flushed even more. He wasn’t unattractive, and Isscer was fond of red hair, but it was a bad idea. A very bad idea!

“I suppose girls would like pretty baubles. Jewelry, things like that.” Isscer shrugged, feeling awkward standing there, unable (and unwilling) to meet Oahvakeen’s eye. “I had brothers, and at the Farmcrafthall there weren’t many girls. I’m sure you know what that’s like?”

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#6
As Oahvakeen rushed off to retrieve his bucket and rake, he hadn't heard his new friend's remark and compliment, and when he'd returned, he'd gotten back to work. His mouth had a propensity to long to keep on going, it wasn't every day that there was someone so happy to listen to his ramblings about life and the world. Talking to other men always felt soothing, like being stroked in the direction of the grain or fur, but talking to other women always felt like being stroked against the direction, awkward, unnatural, and full of hidden traps and dangers. Women were dangerous creatures, always ready to pounce on something as little as a syllable, make it into a big fuss, and disregard the context and bigger picture. Men didn't do that, and hardly seemed to care, usually half-listening.

When he had mentioned a weyrmate, his friend seemed to have some sort of spasm in his brain. Oahvakeen took a glance and his noticed red cheeks, nervous demeanor, and squiggled lines in the sand. He put things together and looked at his own lines. Of course, Isscer must be nervous and flustered because his lines were so straight. How could he be so careless as to show off and make his new friend seem so inferiour? He made a conscious effort to fudge his lines and make them more shaky - wavy, even. When they got to be too wavy, he paused, lifted his rake, flipped it over, and then wiped over the surface of the sand with the flat top and sides of the rake, erasing the lines. Next, he flipped the rake again, back to its correct holding posture, and continued on his way creating less-than-average lines, on purpose.

"A weyrmate is like a significant other who lives with you. You get your own barrack just for the two of you. It make sense, you wouldn't want other people in your room while you visited together, nor would they want to be there. But mostly I just hoped that everyone would be so taken with gossip... you know how everyone likes gossip... that they'd just kind of forget. I thought I could skip more hatchings and say 'Oh, we were fighting.' or 'Oh, she is having a hard time getting pregnant so we had to try careful timing'. Of course, I'm not sure I'd want a pregnant Weyrmate. The before-math is fun, but pregnancy? Man, might as well be trying to marry a wild dragon who hates you and doesn't need to chew stone to breathe fire. ", he explained what a weyrmate was, assuming that the man didn't know, since he seemed to grow quiet.

"Oh....", he responded slowly when Isscer admitted knowing little about the opposite gender.

"Baubles... jewelry... Ah, not really, I don't. There's always been girls around, gossipin', and cookin', and stuff like that.", he meditated on Isscer's words for a little while, before responding to the rest.

"HEY! I could make that stuff! I'm a metalcrafter. You're a farmcrafter, you say? I would look suspicious if I went outside the Weyr too often, like I was trying to run away, so what if you bring me colorful stones from outside? Like rubies and emeralds and things? I could pretty it all up and make jewelry and we could try to get ourselves weyrmates. Ever since I was stolen, I try to stay in the limelight, away from the gossip, so maybe this will help everyone forget about dragons and give me excuses and things. ", his little speech made some sense in some areas, but little sense in others. How was a farmcrafter going to just find precious gems laying on the ground, let alone in fields that were probably tilled and rock-picked already? And wouldn't obtaining a weyrmate make him more of a subject for gossip, not less?

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Written By: ZZZ Archived
#7
Isscer could only listen to Oahvakeen explaining weyrmates with a slack, shocked look on his face. He knew what weyrmates were, the logical part of his brain protested, but he was incapable of expressing it. "Oh," he managed, voice sounding strangled, a nervous little smile flitting across his face and then disappearing. A few deep breaths, and he was able to process what his fellow had just said, realization and confusion dawning.

"But if you are expected to Stand, I don't think a weyrmate would help." Isscer shrugged, but the movement was jerky and spoke to his discomfort. "They expect you to Stand, weyrmate or no, and pregnancy only works if you're a woman and you certainly are not." Again Isscer found himself staring at Oahvakeen's vibrant, ridiculous hair and he cleared his throat, averting his eyes.

"Besides, everyone expects Candidates to fool around. Once you Impress, you have to wait months until the dragonet is mature enough to handle the rider being involved sexually with another person." Isscer had thought this was common knowledge, but apparently not, and so he carefully pointed it out. He didn't understand Oahvakeen's logic, and it only got worse with the mention of gemstones.

Isscer couldn't help it; he laughed, the laugh more of a nervous scoff than a genuine belly laugh. "If I could find fancy stones like that out in a field, I'd be a rich man!" Shaking his head, Isscer rolled his eyes. "Women are too flighty, too prone to emotional outbursts. You'd be better off with a male weyrmate--hopefully there'd be less fuss, although it would depend on the person you chose." He shrugged. "Besides, you wouldn't have to craft jewelry for a man so it'd be less work for you in the long run."

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#8
According to the nonexistant Masculine Men's Codex of Life, Isscer's simple reply of "oh" meant that conversational topic was over and done, and there could be nothing more to say on it. Even Oahvakeen had said all he had on his mind, and now that there was nothing more, the topic must either shift, or the conversation die into an amiable silence. But Oahvakeen wasn't just about to ignore the opportunity for male comradery and bonding, even though both of those things did include silence on some levels. (All this is a nice way of saying that he had no intention, nor had he really learned how, of shutting up while he was still ahead).

His ideas were shot down with logical reminders that he was not a woman and therefore couldn't carry a pregnancy. This was well and true, he'd never wanted to be a woman anyways, though having breasts was an interesting proposal. But where had this come from? Had Isscer thought he was implying he could get out of these things by being pregnant? He had meant that he could use a woman as an excuse. The realization dawned on him that this was exactly what Isscer was talking about: that he couldn't use a woman as an excuse, especially since he wasn't one.

"Oh.", he responded, unhappily, with a slight frown. Something seemed to make Isscer unhappy, and he cleared his throat. Oahvakeen noticed the man's looking away from him. Was the topic that made him uncomfortable women? Or perhaps it was his hair. "Oh. I have lice again?", he perked up. "Ugh. Shoulda told me earlier.", he ruffled his hair around, scratching at it with dirty nails, feeling convinced that now, perhaps he might have lice.

"Bu-", his voice trailed off. Isscer was implying he had to purposely be absinent while his dragonet grew up? "UGH!", he cried out in horror and shock, shriveling up and wincing, as if Isscer had suddenly turned into a gigantic zombie cockroach. He calmed down and gave a long sigh. "Man, it's one thing to not get laid, it's another to purposefully avoid it. That's misery. I hope the barracks for newly impressed are all guys, so there's less temptation. But then there's classes, and there's no way those are segregated - the weyr is too small to have two sets of classes.  Would I really want to bunk around a bunch of forced abstinence, horny guys? Ehhh... Thinking about this hurts my head."

"That's true, you could be!.... Stupid women, it's like they're marionette controlled by their emotions... I hadn't thought of a male weyrmate... I hadn't thought of a women making me make her jewelry either...", he tried to comment between each of the man's sentinces aloud, but quietly, mostly to himself. "And this is a weyr, so it's accepting of everything, especially whatever mess dragonlust makes of things. How did you handle the last gold flight? I ...", he paused, thinking, blushing, and barely shaking his head in a negative manner. "I was in a remote part of the Weyr, there weren't very many people... well, there really weren't any people around.", he wanted to continue on and talk about his feelings, but as per the nonexistant Masculine Men's Codex of Life, men didn't talk about feelings. That was off limit, and according to the Codex, if one wanted to talk about feelings, they had to talk to a woman, not another man. It just wasn't manly to talk about emotions and heartstrings with the same gender.

"Why aren't you impressed yet? And since when do Farmcrafters impress, Mr. Farmcrafter? Ohhh... you a stolen' ?"

"Hey, look, I found a poop. Hahaha.", he held up his rake with a clump of dirt, a brownish-black dried object holding it together in the middle. After his chuckle, he dumped it into his bucket.

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#9
This is just like Lytem all over again, Isscer realized with a mental sigh. He had never felt more awkward than he had around Lytem, full of nervous attraction and unable to figure out how to express it. That was one good thing about Flights--in the heat of residual lust, words tended to go out the window. Nevertheless, Isscer flushed when Oahvakeen questioned him, still shy about such frank discussions of sexual relations and sexuality. He had done his bit and fathered a child with a kitchen worker a few years back, but he did prefer men to women when he had a choice. It was strange outside of the Weyr, and he had been careful to hide his relationship with Lytem from his peers, but here bisexuality was very much the norm.

"I... There was a male Lower Caverns worker." Most of it had been a lust-fueled blur of clothing being ripped and torn, and Isscer had come out of it alone, half-naked on the floor of one of the kitchen storerooms. It was hardly romantic, or even memorable--he had quickly learned Flight-driven escapades tended to be forgettable for a variety of reasons. Lifting a shoulder in what he hoped was nonchalance, Isscer forced himself to look at Oahvakeen. "I'm sorry to hear it. I would have gone with you," he admitted, a bit of a rueful smile stealing across his face. "I like red hair."

But whatever companionable feeling Isscer might have been feeling died a horrible, painful death as Oahvakeen's joke (or at least Isscer hoped it was a joke) went over like a lead balloon. Isscer's smile faded into a pinched, annoyed frown, and he snapped, "Since when do smiths Impress?" Never mind the fact that there were probably a few, and perhaps a few former Farmcrafters as well--it didn't matter. "Of course I was Stolen; I sharding never would have volunteered to come here!" Expression settling into a look of annoyance, Isscer pointed out, "I've been here longer than you--nearly six Turns now--and I don't much care about Impressing." He looked around then, to make sure they were alone, but Isscer was too worked up to really care. "I'd rather go home," he whispered, anger quickly fading into a familiar homesick feeling. "I miss snow," he added, anger seemingly forgotten, a sad smile replacing his angry frown.


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#10
Oahvakeen listened to Isscer strain in some sort of mental anguish over words. In fact, he almost felt as if there were more to it than what Isscer was directly saying. He felt as if he were being oblivious to some fact that should have been clear to him. Instead of brushing it away as he normally did, he tried to examine the issue this time. Isscer said he'd had a male lover. It happened, nothing unusual there, especially with dragon lust. Heck, even a man ... and any fruit that had a hole in it wasn't unusual. And he said that if he had been around Oahvakeen, he would have gone with him... gone where? To where the ladies were? Questions began to flood him. But they were talking again. Isscer mentioned he liked red hair. "Thanks, I like it, too. Your hair isn't bad. Sort of a 'I'm too cool to spend hours styling my head' look. Very economical. Practical."

Isscer was snarling at him now with the same sentence he'd used about impressing, only twisted a little. What was so problematic about impressing, why did it warrant such a fuss? He realized he'd hit some kind of nerve. Fortunately, Isscer continued to explain, and Oahvakeen's clueless expression dissipated into a gentle understanding.

"Six turns? I've only been here three. Why didn't you say something, mate? We could have been friends sooner. No one ever talks about it, I don't know. I didn't know."

" When I was stolen, I thought my girl was pregnant. But I didn't know. It's the not knowing that kills me. I could be a dad and not know it. Somewhere, there's a lady cursing the bastard who up and left her for getting pregnant. I don't even know if it's a boy or a girl or a nothing, or even what its name is, or what it looks like. I miss 'er. But she could have moved on. I thought about escaping, but there's just as crumbled of a life here as there is back there, or anywhere else. It all requires the same amount of work, for me, that is. "

"But if you've been here six years....  fardles... what is there to go back to? Would anyone even remember you? Or even care? "

"I feel like it's hopeless. Like I'm a little wee plant and someone tore my roots out, but I can't regrow 'em."

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Written By: ZZZ Archived
#11
Isscer knew he wasn't thinking clearly, or logically, but it took Oahvakeen's carefully chosen words to calm him down enough that he wouldn't fly off the handle again. Speaking of his stealing was painful, the shock of it still as raw as it had been in the long months spent on Candidate Isle. In the nearly six Turns that Isscer had been at Katila, he still held to the hope of going north again--he couldn't let the atrocities that had been committed against him go, and likely never would.

Oahvakeen was right: no one ever talked about it, no one ever made a point to address the fact that there were many Candidates who had been forcibly Searched. It was a fact that was seemingly brushed aside, and that truly bothered Isscer. "I'm sorry," he apologized, catching Oahvakeen's eye and holding it--it was sincere, and he meant to show that he was indeed sorry. "I should have known better."

He should have, and with every word Oahvakeen spoke Isscer was reminded of how selfish he had been. There was a weyrmate, a child--things that he had never had the chance to have--for Oahvakeen. It was different, but no less painful, and even if Isscer disliked children, he had seen his parents' devotion to their children. His mother had cried when they had taken him to the Farmcrafthall even though she had known it was the best decision for him; perhaps Oahvakeen felt the same way about his child even if he had never had the chance to meet it.

Isscer considered Oahvakeen's for a long, long moment, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He might not have had a weyrmate and child, but that hadn't meant that he had been alone. There were friends, siblings, nieces and nephews--there were people that missed him. "I don't know. I have two brothers and a bunch of nieces and nephews. I had friends." But they might have forgotten him by now, or at least thought him dead.

Oahvakeen's analogy brought a bitter smile to Isscer's mouth, and he huffed a quiet, pained laugh. A lump was forming in his throat, and he cleared it, trying to prevent the sudden emotion. "I know. I feel the same way every day." It wasn't any better now than it had been when Isscer had first arrived; if anything, the sense of despair was worse as time dragged on. "But it isn't who is waiting for me that matters. They tore me from my life, and now I'm forced to be a Candidate when it was something I never would have wanted. I want the freedom to make my own choices, to control my own life--that is what the North means for me." He shrugged, hoping that his jumbled thoughts made sense--he had never voiced his opinions to another, though he thought about his stealing on a daily basis.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," Isscer said, smiling weakly at him. "If I had known you felt the same as I do, I never would have done it." He truly did mean it, and Isscer took a deliberate step forward, lightly patting Oahvakeen on the shoulder in a way that was meant to be friendly, if a bit stilted in execution. "I like talking to you," he confessed, a hint of a genuine smile tucked into the corners of his mouth. "If you need help avoiding Candidacy, I will do everything I can to help. One good deed deserves another, you know."

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#12
He wasn't sure what to say when Isscer seemed to calm down and apologized, but he thought it was unecessary. "Friends and family...", he repeated after Isscer, aloud, tasting the words that Isscer had said. Isscer was explaining what the North meant for him. There had been rumors of stollen trying to escape, but it seemed to Oahvakeen that if anyone was going to succeed, it would be Isscer. Somehow, it didn't feel right, and he almost wanted to press the issue that Isscer should say here.

Isscer was patting him on the back now in a friendly manner and apologizing again. Oahvakeen carefully held his rake to the side, reached up with one hand and gently tried to go around Isscer's opposite shoulder, and with his other hand, around the man's back. He tried to make three pats back, according to the Masculine Men's Codex of Life's standards. He mouthed the words 'I'm', 'not', 'gay' as he patted each, but said nothing. It was an old habit, one he used to comfort himself. He was never sure how to hug properly, and this age-old habit helped him along. Because of the way hugs work, Isscer wouldn't be able to see his face anyways. After the three attempted pats, he attempted to quickly withdraw, eager to re-form his five foot personal bubble. It was nothing personal, he just liked his space. After all, he'd reduced it from twenty to five for Isscer, and five was a nice number. He could live with that, for Isscer.

"Tell me how you do it, you've been here more turns than me. Do you find excuses to not show up to the Stand? I try to tell whatever egg I'm around that I don't want it, in my head, and it seems to work so far, but it could just be waning luck, you know? And what's your reason for not wanting to impress? You just wanted to make your own choices and plain ole' didn't want a dragon?", Oahvakeen was careful to offer up some suggested reasons, trying to infer that he was not accusing Isscer of anything, and just wanted to hear the story.

He tried to bring up the stollen issue again. "You speak about the North with such fondness. Friends and family waiting for you....", he felt he wasn't implying what he wanted to talk about clearly enough. He couldn't, not here in public. What if other workers arrived to clean out the sands? He was sick of lashings, and he wasn't eager to earn any more.

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Written By: ZZZ Archived
#13
The hug was awkward, Isscer hunkered in on himself, body rigid. It had been a very long time since anyone had been kind to him--the gold Flights meant nothing, and were certainly not gentle. He didn't know how to react, what to do; was he supposed to hug back? It was no matter: he could have moved even if he had wanted to, as good a frozen, an astonished look on his face.

Beneath the surprise, the stiffness, there lurked an emotion Isscer couldn't name. It was more than hope, more than relief--both combined couldn't express how he felt, how it felt to know that finally someone understood. Someone cared that he was drowning in despair, out of sight of land, and growing more and more despondent with every Turn. The lump was back in his throat, and Isscer swallowed hard, carefully composing himself.

When he spoke, it was quiet, tone coming off as almost weary. Isscer wouldn't begrudge Oahvakeen his questions, but there were so many of them! "You Stand because they expect you to. You can't just escape from that--you're not a woman, so pregnancy is out of the question. I just... hope that I make it out of each Hatching unscathed; Impression hasn't happened yet, and I couldn't tell you why." Isscer shook his head, unable to speak for a long moment, composing what he wanted to express in as clear a form as he could.

"I never wanted to be a dragonrider. I never wanted to leave the North, and when they brought me here my entire life changed. I just want things to be normal again and I sharding hate the heat." Isscer looked away, gnawing at the inside of his cheek, before he sighed. "I can't let them win--if I Impress, I'll never get to go home again."

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#14
Oahvakeen's hug went as well as he had expected and better than most hugs he gave (which were few and far between). It figured, though. When others were interested in Oahvakeen, he generally felt uninterested in them, as if on basic principle of their being the initiator. And when he was first to initiate any sort of thing, whether it be a hug, handshake, or conversation, things always seemed to end up awkward and stiff, but it was so familiar that he thought it normal.

Oahvakeen had waited desperately for some gem of wisdom and knowledge, but Isscer seemed to confess that he really had none. Oahvakeen worried that the next clutch would contain Isscer's partner, and then Isscer would be changed to the happy-go-lucky-talks-aloud-to-themselves-like-a-crazy-person kind of man that the others seemed to be, and that because of it, Oahvakeen and Isscer would have no more common ground, and no room for friendship left. All he could do was frown in dual worry and dismay.

Oahvakeen scuttled quickly away, almost like a cockroach scurrying to the next dark corner. His hands were back on his tools, and he feebly worked at the ground. He wanted his personal bubble back, and he obtained it and his sense of security.

"I can understand that. You don't want to be a dragonrider simply because you don't want to be forced to be something you don't want to be. On the very principle. You want your choices. And you don't want a dragon because you think it will tie down your roots here and force you to settle.", he reasoned out what Isscer had said, saying it in a different way, as if to confirm it to himself.

" But you've been here six years? That's a long time... What are you waiting for then?... How many times have you - ... - tried?", he hinted at escape the best he could without saying the words. He was afraid to say them. He was afraid of their meaning and implications and the very concept of freedom. And he was afraid of being overheard. But curiosity ate at him.

"What happens to us if we don't impress? Will they suspect? Will we get punished? And what if we don't produce children for the weyr? "


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Written By: ZZZ Archived
#15
It was flattering that Oahvakeen thought Isscer had all the answers, but Isscer met his friend's eye with a sad quirk of his mouth, voice pitched low to prevent them from being overheard. "I considered it, once. There was a man I knew who tried--he wanted me to go as well, but I was afraid." He may have been a Junior Journeyman, but here that hardly mattered--he was the lowest of the low, with nothing but the shreds of his former life to cling to. It didn't help that the threat of lashings was always looming overhead, and that with men like S'kef as Acting Weyrleader, the lashings would certainly be more severe. "I was afraid, and I regret it with every Turn that passes."

If he had been braver, perhaps Isscer would have been free; in a part of him, he clung to the idea that an escape was possible. It had to be--there had to be a way home, somehow. He shook his head, the familiar despair settling in, the laugh that tore its way out of his mouth ugly and vaguely panicked. "You don't think I've wondered that myself? It's been nearly six Turns--I'd have thought they'd have gotten rid of me by now."

Isscer shrugged, a wearied lift of his shoulders, mouth working into a frown. "I've had a child. They can't fault me for that, at least." Falling quiet, hands clenching around the end of his rake, he stared at Oahvakeen, trying to work out what he was implying with all the questions. There was something there that was going unsaid, something that needed to be brought into the light...

Eyes widening, Isscer hissed, "You're thinking of going, aren't you?" He wasn't surprised, not really--if anything he was afraid for Oahvakeen, of what would happen if anyone knew. "You can't go alone! They'll find you for sure--with two people, at least if things got dicey there's the option to split up..." Isscer trailed off, glancing away, seemingly coming to realize what he was suggesting without actually saying. "Might could get further that way, one of the pair." He caught Oahvakeen's eye, a curious expression on his face--part dawning realization, and the other resignedly weary. "A diversion would help, though. Draw their attention away, you know?"

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#16
He listened to Isscer's story,  piecing together what was left unsaid. There wasn't much to piece together.  Isscer had planned it all, but had chickened out at the last minute from fear. And, apparently he hadn't tried since.

"You have a kid? Fargles, why didn't you tell me? What's its name? How old is it? Where is it?", he bombarded Isscer with as many questions as he felt surprised. "What's it like being a dad?", he added, as he adjusted to the realization that his newfound bachelor friend was not exactly the bachelor he had envisioned. "You have a weyrmate then?", it was worth asking. He was genuinely curious. It had been some time since he'd had one himself, and thinking about it rekindled some distant, tiny flame. He wanted to tell Isscer about his girl back home at his Weyr, and the child he may or may not have. But he realized he'd already done so.

His eyes grew wide as Isscer had suddenly jumped on him with accusations. "What!? No! I just wanted to -", he cut himself off. He just had wanted to talk about it. Like a sissy girl. Only sissy girls talked about their feelings. According to the Masculine Men's Codex of Life, it was the men, the real men, the manly men, who acted. Feelings were for the weak. He had been weak. And now he was in the midst of escape plans.

His rake dropped out of his hands as he emphatically moved his hands in a stopping, waving motion. "No no no... I just don't know what I want. I'm ... apathetic. About everything. I can't make up my mind about anything.", he spoke quickly. "I do know that I don't want any lashes.", and it was true, perhaps the one true thing that he knew.

He went to create another raking motion in the sand, but as he did so, something didn't seem right. He looked at his hands. There was no rake but empty air where it had been. He quizzically glanced down at his feet. He caught sight of the handle of the rake, bent on one knee to retrieve it, placed it in his hands properly, and repeated the raking motion he'd originally intended.


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Written By: ZZZ Archived
#17
Perhaps at one point Isscer might have considered settling down to start a family but being Stolen had done away with that notion. He disliked being around so many weyrbrats, and found he had very little patience for younger children; he shot Oahvakeen a nonplussed look at the flood of questions, one eyebrow quirking up in carefully conveyed confusion. "I don't like children. My daughter's name is Issran, but I don't have anything to do with her." He shook his head curtly at the last question. "No, I don't. I never have." Isscer didn't consider his relationship with Lytem serious enough to call him a weyrmate, what with it being primarily an exploratory thing.

He had thought many times about escaping, planned out intricate scenarios in his head, but had never felt brave enough to execute them. Isscer had seen plenty of others try to escape, but they were always found and brought back to the Weyr. He didn't see how it was possible, yet he knew that unless something were to give in the mindset of the Weyr's leadership, a return to the North by normal means was out of the question.

Isscer tightened his grip on the rake and began to repair the furrow he had messed up earlier, letting Oahvakeen's words wash over him. He wasn't sure what his fellow Crafter was up to, or even how he was supposed to react--if he was supposed to react at all. So instead of trying to soothe him, Isscer settled for the one thing he knew he could do well: logically pointing out the facts. He twisted around to regard Oahvakeen with a placid expression.

"I didn't mean anything by it. Everyone thinks about escaping--everyone. There's no harm in it." It was acting on the urge that led to problems, but Isscer didn't think he needed to mention that. It appeared Oahvakeen knew the risks well enough, and he was not the man's mother. "If you keep your head down, they won't lash you. Don't give them any cause to worry and you'll be safe." It had worked well enough for him so far, though that didn't mean Isscer had to necessarily enjoy doing it. There were many issues that bothered him, but there was a time and a place to voice his opinion and he was in no position to go around decrying the Weyrleaders' leadership, even if he felt very strongly on the issue.

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#18
Oahvakeen listened as the man talked about his daughter, still astonished that his newfound friend was a father. He felt a twinge of sadness for the girl that her father wasn't involved in his life, and a twinge of guilt for his own possible fatherhood negligence, not that it could be helped.

Isscer assured him that no harm was meant by thinking about escaping. And thus, a tiny seed of doubtless pleasure had been planted in the young lad's mind. An assurance that he could indeed think, perhaps even plan, about escaping. Surely this seedling would begin to grow at a glacial pace, but grow and grow nonetheless. What other things were okay to think about?

He wanted to talk more, but couldn't find any words to say. He struggled and strangled various parts of his mind, flailing for some topic or other, but by now, his efforts were futile and useless. A silence seemed to have fallen over them, a natural silence, one that all manly men should have been able to fully appreciate. He realized this and gave up, and went back to raking the sand.

As he went to dig in his rake as he normally did, there was an odd clump, one that he couldn't seem to move. He set his rake down and walked over to the spot, eschewing large mounds of dirt out of the way. It was easy to dig, and at last, he found the thing. It was large, and seemed to go deeper. It had a smooth surface and ....

"Fardles."

He slowly put his hand on top of it. Nothing seemed to happen. Whatever was inside it was either dead or not a dragon.

"What would an egg be doing here? Want to come lend me a hand digging this out?"

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Written By: ZZZ Archived
#19
A curious silence fell over them, and like Oahvakeen Isscer turned back to his work. He painstakingly corrected his earlier uneven line, then continued to rake the sand into neat, clean furrows. There was something to be said about order, really, and Isscer smiled at his handiwork. It would be pretty while it lasted; who knew when draconic paws or human feet would destroy their work?

Isscer didn't think anything was amiss at first. He simply disregarded Oahvakeen's digging as a sign that he had found a particularly large piece of eggshell buried in the sand, and continued his own work. The man's questions made him turn, and Isscer carefully laid his rake down. "An egg? You're joking," he scoffed, shaking his head at the redhead.

But as he drew closer, leaning down beside Oahvakeen, Isscer was stunned to see that it was something very strange. "That can't be a dragon egg!" Isscer shot Oahvakeen a confused look, half of him wanting to ask if this was some kind of joke. He decided against it, not wanting to offend his new friend and scare him off, and set to digging instead.

Once he and Oahvakeen had cleared away enough of the sand, Isscer caught the smith's eye. "If you pull carefully from the top, maybe I can get my fingers down along the sides so we can just wiggle it right out." What could have caused this thing to be so packed into the sand? It was large enough that Isscer would have assumed that other Sands cleaners would have found it.

"If it's a firelizard, you can have it," Isscer joked, a grin flitting across his face as he winked at Oahvakeen. "Reckon you won't have any trouble at all finding a weyrmate if you Impress a Gold." Women did tend to love shiny objects, and firelizards had the advantage of being both cute (as he'd heard some of the female Candidates describe them) and shiny.

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#20
He beamed proudly as Isscer came over to inspect his finding. He felt as if he'd discovered a chest of pirate gold treasure. But then again, pirates wouldn't share treasures, pirates would secretly hoard them. So if it was pirate treasure, Oahvakeen was the worst pirate ever. But it was just an egg.

His eyes widened at Isscer's disbelief, as if Isccer's comment made everything dangerous, secretive, and elusive.

"Oh, okay.", he consented to Isscer's suggestion. He plopped his butt onto the sand to sit for better posture, and instantly regretted it. He jerked upright, and rocked onto his feet, so his special heat-resistant shoes would prevent him from getting hurt. He wasn't scalded, but it didn't feel good. He bent over the egg, gently pulling.  The egg started to give way as they worked at it.

"Really?", his eyes were getting bigger again at Isccer's comment about gold firelizards. If he could impress a gold, he could find a weyrmate to accompany him all those lonely nights. Maybe a lady like Kathleena. Or Rhaedalyn, who seemed just as apt to eat him alive as to consent to any suggestion of his.

When they'd dug out the egg, Oahvakeen helped Isscer to guide it onto the surface of the sand. "It's too big to be a firelizard egg. It looks like a smaller dragon egg. You know how some human babies don't get born right? Well maybe that's what this is? And some dragon who clutched it is trying to hide that they had a bad egg?"

He reached out to touch the egg. Nothing happened.

"I bet it's dead. Do you want to keep it? Maybe make a dragon omelette? "

OOC:
small powerplay with us finishing unearthing the egg.
I'm out of ideas for this thread so why don't we wrap things up?


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Written By: ZZZ Archived
#21
There was a sense of satisfaction that Isscer gained as he helped Oahvakeen wriggle the egg out of the sand. He enjoyed working with his hands, and wouldn't have become a Farmcrafter if he hadn't enjoyed doing work--the entire harvest season was spent fretting over crops, trying to make sure that they all survived whatever horrible weather that blew up on the Southern Continent.

He almost smiled in triumph as the egg was finally rolled onto the sand, but bit the inside of his cheek to prevent it. It was silly to be so excited over a dud egg that was assuredly dead; nevertheless, one corner of his mouth twitched up as he tried to smile anyway. "It's probably dead," Isscer agreed, ever practical, not caring to speculate as to why the egg was buried--if it was buried, it obviously wasn't worth keeping.

"I'd rather not," he said, face incredulous--why would he of all people want to keep a dragon egg--but the laugh, when it came, was sudden. It was a surprised, albeit genuine, laugh that seemed to come all the way from his toes as he laughed at the other Crafter's joke. "You're the strangest man I've ever met, Oahvakeen!"

Shaking his head in amused exasperation, a smile on his face, Isscer left the egg where it laid. "Come on, we had better get going or it'll be midday and we'll be baking in the sun." Isscer had no desire to bake alive during the hottest part of the day, and they were wasting time gawking over a dud egg. "I'll race you, eh?"

Thanks for the thread! Oahvakeen is great. =]

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#22
There was the warm fuzziness of comradery and teamwork that made his head feel like it was made of soft wool. It faded slowly as he focused on the task at hand. They couldn't just leave a dead egg in the sands, it wouldn't exactly be very clean. He imagined a candidate trying to impress the egg, that was dead, and how strange that might be. And then he imagined the egg bursting forth while trying to be impressed and unformed body parts, ooze, and gore dripping from the shell. The thought turned his stomach. He didn't exactly like dragons that much, but his imagination had been too cruel. A dead dragon seemed like a shame, no matter how it happened or where that dead egg went.

"I'll take it with me and bury it in a little grave outside. This shovel should still be useful.".

He heaved it inside his bucket. It didn't really fit but rested on the top of the bucket. He held his shovel and rake in one hand and picked up his bucket in the other.

"Okay. Readysetgo!", he tried to jog off the sands but the precarious bucket and its burden didn't like the sudden movements. He slowed his pack to a very brisk walk.

-- exit --

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