This Is The Best [Clothes Making Chore]

It was interesting to find Talian had felt unconnected to people, and confirmed her earlier suspicions that it would be strange to be so much more intelligent than those around you. Why else would he feel that way? Never having met a prodigy before, she was also unaware of the stereotype, but when he abruptly stepped closer and whispered ominously some story of Grith tearing the doors from the dining hall, she was more than a little surprised. His careful avoidance of physical contact didn't go unnoticed either, but she was more inclined to count that as some leftover Holder-politeness. You didn't simply touch the opposite gender without more of a guardian than there was here. Par'a and Indivara were Weyrfolk, and probably comfortable with physical contact, but the rules were different in the Holds, as she well knew. Then again, remembering his earlier hesitancy to allow her to touch his injured hand, he might have a personal aversion to the sensation altogether.

She shook his hand, saying it had been a pleasure to meet him as well, but wasn't unhappy at the idea of turning her attention to the pair of Weyr females. "I'd be happy to lend a hand, then," she smiled at the woman, quite unable to resist the obvious affection between her and her Green. She did hope Par'a would call upon her to help at some point. It would be informative at the very least, and probably pleasant as well. Despite Talian's warning, she thought Par'a completely harmless, and Grith was probably just prone to overexcitement. Somehow she doubted the Green that liked to dance on buildings and be painted by children had deliberately pulled the doors off of the dining hall. Destruction didn't seem to be in her nature, only exuberance.

Breccan was surprised to hear that one of the storms had been so severe it had killed some weyrfolk. Perhaps even dragon-riding pairs? Debris would be a problem, especially if someone happened to be in the air during a storm. Then again, Breccan was abruptly seized with an image of herself a-dragonback, lashed by rain and wind, tumbling across the wind currents of a tropical storm. It was an exhilarating thought, but she reminded herself that such behavior was doubtless discouraged, if not forbidden. Even if she Impressed, she had some time before she'd be flying anywhere, much less unsupervised and in the midst of a storm.

The Green's voice in her head was much, much more surprising. Breccan winced, her hands making small abortive movements towards her ears. The sound was gone as quickly as it had happened, but it hadn't been a sound, not exactly. It had been in her head, like her own mental 'voice,' but it had certainly not been hers. "Was that Grith?" she asked no one, grey eyes leaping to the roof, "How do you...how do you do that, someone in your head all the time?" Her eyes were wide as she turned them to Par'a. Faranth, she hadn't thought this through! Impressing meant someone always listening and commenting, someone in your head. Breccan was inclined towards privacy, to keeping things to herself and musing about them privately. Having someone around listening in was not only strange, it was alarming. How could she possibly know what she thought about things if someone else was constantly interjecting their opinion?

Faranth. She had to hope she got a fairly quiet dragon.