World of Pern
Latest Updates

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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Working Dinner [Talian]

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#1
Wonder of wonders, Breccan was eating, and at a reasonable time. True, most of the dining hall's occupants were just finishing a meal, rather than just starting one, but that was still a dramatic improvement for a girl who often skipped eating entirely. She had been attempting to pay better attention to her own health lately, returning to her habit of a morning swim before her day began. She'd even gone back to running occasionally, most often when the weather didn't encourage swimming. Her little health regimen had increased her appetite to the point she found it hard to ignore. On the one hand, this was rather annoying when she had things to finish, but on the other, it did encourage more regular eating, which she recognized as a benefit.

In any case, she had selected a pair of meatrolls and a thick crockery bowl of some kind of stew. She was ravenous, and the smells were enough to set her mouth to watering. A mug of water completed her meal, and she balanced them all carefully as she moved towards a near-empty table. A pair of men were completing their own dinners on one end, but she sat far enough away to avoid overhearing their conversation. They'd be gone soon enough, judging by the empty plates, and she'd have the table to herself. It wasn't that she didn't want company, only that she felt it awkward to join a conversation that was already in progress. And her company was enough, if it had to be.

Setting down her meal, she seated herself and tugged a scroll from a pocket attached to her belt. Unrolling it, she ran avid eyes across the neat handwriting, the detailed drawings. She'd been most curious about dragon anatomy, and this was the only scroll she'd found concerning it. There were obviously no dragonhealers in the north, but they doubtless needed tended to from time to time. The particular challenge of their delicate wing sails was tempting. They were so crucial to the flight that dragons were made for, and yet fragile. She suspected they tore them now and then, despite the tough hide, and she was intent on learning the best methods for repair.

A meatroll found its way to her mouth, and she relished the salty bite, dipping it absently into the stew. The food here was good. She couldn't argue that. Perhaps next she should search for some more herbs used in flavoring; the kitchen staff would doubtless appreciate new spices to add to their repertoire, and even if she couldn't find any new ones, she guessed re-stocking would be just as helpful. Her eyes crawled over the page before her, fascinated. She was especially interested in the multiple stomachs, and the use of firestone. Did they have any firestone here? Enough of them blathered about Thread returning, which she doubted. All the information she'd ever seen about dragons said they reproduced more frequently when Thread was imminent, to swell the fighting numbers in the Wings. She saw little sign of that here. Nirinath's clutch was not particularly large, even if it was rumored to contain a Gold. Nirinath had to produce a Gold. She was the only one remaining, so a daughter was required if they were to have any chance at surviving as a species. If Thread was returning, Nirinath would have produced Golds already, and this rumored daughter would serve to swell the population, not drag it back from the brink of extinction.

Idly she wondered if Greens could be induced to Clutch. There were enough of them here to provide plenty of little dragonlings, though she doubted they'd produce much besides other Greens, and maybe Blues. They just weren't big enough for big clutches, nor did she believe a little Green could produce a Gold Egg. Hmm. Did the Riders have a plan for the eventuality that Nirinath would die without producing a Gold to take her place? Probably not.

She snorted lightly, tucking loose strands of hair behind one ear, and started in on her second meatroll. Perhaps she'd have to bring that up the next time they had one of their little meetings.

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Written By: ZZZ Archived
#2
Time had passed, and all seemed well.

Only a handful of days had passed since the Tansy incident, but Tal already felt a great deal better. His friends truly were amazing. They'd taken excellent care of him and tended to his every need, and the other healers had been just as supportive, if perhaps a bit mystified and overly-curious. It wasn't every day that one of their number poisoned themselves, now was it? He was happy, though. His recovery gave him a glimmer of hope and he felt more at home at Katila than he'd ever expected he would. It was just a shameful way to reach such peace.

Not that it was perfect peace. He wasn't happy about his fate, but he could soundly claim to have accepted it. He'd accepted it, and he was pleased to be alive. That was something. Right now, his focus was on getting better and getting his head on straight. He was a sturdy young man who rarely got sick during his childhood, and he had a sharp eye for detail when it came to medical matters. Within three days he was able to sit up in bed, and now only two days later he was out and walking about.

And hungry!

He wasn;t sure if he'd ever been so hungry, in fact. He collected a large plate of food and moved to find a seat, where a quick sweep of the room quickly located Breccan. He remembered her; a bright, friendly girl who'd shared a brief conversation with him in the craft hall not long ago.  He remembered she'd seemed awfully cowed by him. He wondered with a moment of trepidation if she'd heard about his attempted suicide, and whether she'd lost her respect for him. He supposed he would deserve it, though he certainly hoped not. He needed more friends, and unlike before, he was actually eager to try to make them.

He walked past, trying to decide whether or not to say anything to her. His mind was made up for him when he noticed the paper clutched in her hands.

"I have a few dragonhealing manuals, if you'd like to borrow them," he blurted without thinking. The academic side of his mind had taken over. His face scrunched in distaste before continuing. "I've been reading them in my spare time, but I hadn't thought about anyone else wanting to have a go at them."

He placed his food down across from her and took a seat. "Breccan, right?" he said. He knew he'd remembered her name correctly, but he wanted to make sure she knew that he remembered. He was trying to be social, but already he had that awkward feeling that he was doing something wrong. He looked down at his plate in embarrassment.

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#3
Breccan was far too absorbed in her reading to notice Talian until he spoke. She looked up, startled and wide-eyed, blinking, and tried to recover herself. She recognized him immediately, though he looked a little off. Quickly, she found a welcoming smile for him. "Yes, thank you," she answered, warmed to the core of her at the mere thought of more information, "I'd appreciate it. They don't cover dragonhealing in the Hall so much these days. I guess I can forgive your selfishness if you really will let me borrow one." She was so pleased she nearly winked, but managed to hold herself in check. Good dinner company and books? Things could hardly get any better.

She was warmed again when he proved he remembered her name, though she was hardly shocked. He'd known it before even being properly introduced. If he'd forgotten it after meeting her, though, she would have been quite...something. Embarrassed? Displeased? Maybe even offended? Well, there was no point in dwelling on it. He'd remembered, and she, of course, remembered him. "Breccan indeed, and I assume you're still Talian?" she questioned facetiously. His sudden embarrassed scrutiny of his plate puzzled her. Did he think, perhaps, he had the wrong face for the name? She doubted he made those kinds of mistakes. Even she rarely confused identities, particularly when she'd spoken to someone previously.

No matter why he was embarrassed, she was going to have to say something soon, or risk increasing the sudden sense of discomfort. Commenting on the food was banal, and she'd rather avoid the weather for the same reasons. That pretty much left Healing; she didn't know much about him personally, so there wasn't a lot she could ask about. "Are there any official dragonhealers here?" she asked, wiping her hands carefully free of meatroll-grease. "I'd like to learn some things about it, but I wasn't sure who to ask. And I'm not sure if they'd even let me." She shrugged one shoulder and helped herself to a spoonful of stew. Mmm. Just as good as the meatrolls.

"The dragons, I mean," she clarified, "Surely they'd know I have absolutely no experience with them." She certainly wouldn't let a dragonhealer who'd never treated people just leap into action on her. It was almost certainly the same the other way around, right? "Have you ever had to treat one?" she wondered. What even befell dragons that required treatment? Perhaps wing-sprains or too-long toenails, like a canine. The image of Talian clipping some enormous dragon's toenails made her grin into her stew. Not likely. He didn't seem so comfortable with dragons, or perhaps he was just specifically uncomfortable with Grith. It wasn't an unreasonable attitude, despite Indivara and Par'a's assurances that she was a nice dragon. Anything with that much energy was bound to hurt someone at some point, good intentions or not.

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Written By: ZZZ Archived
#4
Selfishness. He wondered self-consciously if she was referring to what he was afraid she was referring to. She seemed like she had the potential to be sharp-tongued and self-absorbed. Neither of those traits were the sort of thing to scare Tal away; his two best friends were sharp-tongued, self-absorbed and foul tempered as well. It did mean he should perhaps prepare for some claws to dig in, though.

Much to his surprise, they didn't. He was alarmed at first, but as the seconds passed, he realized that Breccan wasn't only leaving him be over the whole issue, but was happy to talk as if nothing had happened. Encouraged by this unexpected but welcomed turn of events, he flashed her a smile. It was more organic and less hollow than previous smiles. He remembered the ill mood he'd been in the first time he'd met Breccan. He'd been hurried and uncomfortable that day. He was still a pile of awkward, but less nervous, especially now that she didn't seem to have him in her crosshairs.

Tal didn't need approval.  He was used to not having it.  He was just tired of receiving the same lecture. How was he going to move on from his mistake if no one else did?

In spite of himself, he was flattered by the attention Breccan seemed willing to give him. Perhaps, he was learning slowly, attention wasn't so bad. Her little jabs rolled over him easily as he situated himself. "I never took any lessons on dragonhealing to speak of. I often wondered if it was covered in regular classes,' he said. He took a sip of klah. Undoubtedly he'd soon be back to drinking too much of the stuff. "I personally can't stand dragons," he said, eyes widening in a flash of discomfort, 'but they're awfully interesting. I've never done much work with any greenblooded creatures."

"Another healer I know was also talking about it one day. Lymsleia...nice girl."  He imagined Breccan knew Lym on some level, so he didn't bother to explain. "Since there are so few books, perhaps we can find a way to split them up and rotate them so we all get to have a look. As far as I know, the Weyr has no proper dragonhealers....Shards, there are few enough of us at it is," he said. He took another long drink.

He cleared his throat a bit and masked his discomfort at the rasp. It was still terribly raw, but it was a small price to pay. How nice it was to be able to move again! He probably didn't need to exert himself too much, though. Perhaps after dinner he'd ask Breccan to prepare his medicine for him. He imagined Erisi and Valerian would stroke just at the sight of him out of bed!

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#5
Though ostensibly keeping most of her attention on her meal, Breccan was watching her dinner guest closely. His discomfort seemed, if anything, even more intense than it had been when a dragon had been dancing on the roof. She couldn't imagine what she'd done to earn such awkwardness, so she had to conclude that it wasn't her, it was him. That was simplest anyway; she could hardly expect better results if she was less friendly and welcoming.

Abruptly, though, his smile flashed out, looking reasonably at ease. Hmm. Intrigued by rather than content with the change, she resolved to find out more about him. He didn't seem the type to volunteer personal information as willingly as everyone else alive. Most people she could set to nattering on about themselves and all but sleep while she made appropriate responses. Talian would be more of a challenge, but that wasn't even a hurdle to Breccan. She relished a challenge. Besides, she would likely only have to discover who he was closest to to learn about him. If he wouldn't talk about him, well, someone else certainly would.

"Unlikely. Perhaps there was a Master or two interested, but it's a subject with little practical implications up North," she answered. His statement about his personal feelings on dragons tilted her head fractionally to one side, brows furrowed over her grey eyes. "None of them? I thought perhaps you were just uncomfortable with Grith," she said, "Understandable, if she really did tear the doors off of this place. Have you met many? I assumed they were all different, like humans." This was a revelation to her. If someone could dislike all dragons, was it conceivable that that someone might end up Impressed to a dragon that he or she couldn't stand? Ugh. The idea was unpleasant. For instance, if she were to be paired with a dragon like Grith, sweet as she might be, she'd simply lose her mind. She required a very different set of characteristics in a bondmate. And, apparently, she needed to meet some more dragons, and test this unfortunate theory. She probably should have done that before now; the Eggs were quite hard, and she estimated the Hatching would be within the season.

"Yes," she answered, simply confirming his suspicions that she knew the girl. The emotions that flickered across her face were many. They had been friendly at the Hall, but not necessarily friends, at least not from Breccan's point of view. It wasn't that the girl wasn't good-hearted, but in fact, quite the opposite. Breccan simply did not understand what she saw as Lymsleia's naivete, and had little use for it. What was the point of being so polite and selfless? No one could look out for your interests as well as you, and some people needed a good tongue-lashing or they'd never learn any differently. She couldn't recall seeing Lym even really upset, except about the reproduction edict, and even then, the girl had defended it in the end. "Are you and Lym the only others?" she asked, surprised. Healer Hall should have been a bigger target, in her mind. The specialties were diverse, but she couldn't think of any that didn't have great practical value. Some things about Katila made no sense.

"I don't suppose there's any formal accreditation process," she remarked with wry humor, "Perhaps I'll have to switch specialties. If there's no chance of leaving, of course." She enjoyed a few spoonfuls of stew, wondering what he'd have to say. So far no one she'd spoken to had any desire to go, which was a little baffling to say the least. Talian, though, had quite a lot to life for in the North, or she was missing her guess.


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Written By: ZZZ Archived
#6
He frowned pointedly. "Only one - another green named Larrikith." The young man had never been able to mask his emotions well, and now was no exception. He was awfully confused about where he stood with Larrikith. He'd always hated her, from the first time she spoke up him up until only a few days before.  He'd never been explicitly told that she was the one who saved his life, but he'd pieced it together without any trouble. Larrikith was the one who saw him at the hut, the one who'd alerted B'jin to his actions, and well...she'd keened for him. He was no weyrbrat, but he knew that was a big deal.

She was still a foul creature, though.

Without any aggression to speak of, only bitterness, he just shrugged. "I'm not sure how I feel about her," he said, his words adding no new information that his face didn't betray. "...She has her merits, though," he said calmly, thinking back on her gleaming eyes looking in through his office window, not even a sevenday ago.

"I don't like dragons on the whole, though. I have no interest in their lifestyle." He wasn't referring to the dragonriders' moral or sexual behaviors, but everything. His recent actions might have inspired some will to live, but he was far from being loyal to Katila. He didn't feel the need to mention how horribly uglyhe thought dragons were. That was a bit childish to mention during a serious conversation, but on some level it was a factor. They just creeped him out, with their faceted eyes and hideous features! He smirked a bit, but it was a facetious one.

"And Lym and I aren't the only healers," he said a moment later. He slowed down a bit to take a few bites of food. Academically, he knew he was underweight and undernourished. He hadn't cared for the longest time. Lately though, he'd found his appetite back at full force. He had a lot of weight to gain back. "The specialties are fairly diverse...I believe I'm the only trauma surgeon, but that's to be expected, I suppose." There wasn't any obnoxiousness in his tone, though there was a distinct sheen of pride; something he'd lacked at their last encounter. He smiled, this time full and genuine. "It's nice to have more, though. I'm not sure how I went so long without bumping into you, though I suppose I have been a little bit of a stick in the mud..."

If there's no chance of leaving, of course

He held his smile, but his eyes immediately dimmed. The smile remained like a husk as he thought over the words. "....There isn't," he finally said, the corners of his mouth slowly falling as he lifted his mug of klah. He was already almost finished with it. Habit forming? Most certainly.

"Some have tried and wound up dead in the jungle. I know of one girl who tried and was captured, rather than meeting a similar end...Her name is Volfetti." Tal rather liked Volfetti, though he hadn't spoken to her in a while now. He didn't feel like he needed to hint at his own chosen escape method.

The last few days had left him the most confusing mixture of miserable and euphoric.

"I wouldn't recommend it," he said afterwards. He finished off his khal and let out a sigh. "...How do you feel about becoming a dragonrider?"

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#7
Breccan watched Talian's mobile face with interest. His features gave so much away; it was remarkable that she still felt like she knew nothing about him. She had always been careful to internalize more than express any emotions she had, which generally resulted in a face that could either be described as serene or expressionless, depending. True, strong reactions often made it through, and she occasionally had to struggle to control her expressions, but watching Talian's face was almost voyeuristic.

His confusion was clear enough, but she had to conclude that his dominant opinion was still negative, for both dragons he knew. "Is she much like Grith?" she hazarded, wondering if all Greens were just as bubbly as the one she'd met. If they were, that cemented her opinion that she had no desire to ride Green. On the one hand, perhaps a Greenrider would be missed far later than a dragon of another color, and she might manage to fly her north. On the other, she just could not handle a Grith in her life.

"Is that why you were forbidden from the Touching?" she asked, interested. She grasped that by 'lifestyle' he didn't specifically mean the rampant sex, but she was curious how much that word encompassed for him. Also, she doubted he thought about sex much. Talian was pleasantly attractive, but didn't exactly seem the type for a healthy libido. She'd certainly not detected so much as a flicker of attraction to herself, but, then again, perhaps he preferred men. Plenty did. Faranth, she certainly did. The appeal of women had always been a deeply baffling idea to her. She personally had absolutely no interest in that direction. Men were just fine.

"Good," she answered with a touch of relief. Primitive bush-healing couldn't keep all of these people alive, so she'd guessed there were more healers somewhere, or Talian and Lym were simply constantly worked to the bone. That hadn't been her experience, not yet, but as she was getting recognizable to those who frequented the Hall, she'd had more demands on her time. Overall she found the increased responsibility pleasant. It kept her hands and mind busy, and that was what she needed most. Taking advantage of his pause to likewise have some more stew, she continued to eat steadily as he explained. His proud tone made her smile, and she couldn't resist a teasing jab. "Perhaps you're learning to swagger after all," she interjected, tone amused.

"Oh, if either of us are sticks, it's me. I spent plenty of time on the Candidate Isle, and more moping. I'm afraid I was useless for quite a while," she confessed, mild disgust putting an an edge on her words, "Now I can hardly see the point of all the laying about I did. I probably would have just pouted at you if we'd met any earlier." She had been thoroughly pathetic, and she knew it. At least she hadn't been prone to bursting into tears in public, but the way she'd responded had been immature and certainly hadn't profited her in any way. Now she could think of six different ways she could have spent that time and perhaps gotten ahead. The waste was appalling.

The long pause in his speech took her attention away from her food, and she looked up at him, surprised to see him so suddenly distant. His flat denial that there was any way to go back home was disheartening. She'd hoped, perhaps even expected, that he'd have ideas, know of weak points. Almost against her will, she heard herself ask, "What did they die of?" It was probably a callous question, but it was the only way to get any information. She was reasonably sure she could keep herself alive in the jungle, at least so far as food and water went, but she wasn't sure what sort of predators called that green wild home. Felines, almost certainly, and a wherry or five could bring down a person if so inclined.

The name Volfetti had been suggested to her earlier. She wondered why she hadn't taken advantage of the opportunity to meet the girl yet. Ah, well, apparently she was staying, so she'd have plenty of time to get to know whoever she pleased. His question was one she'd considered often over the days since the Touching, and she paused for a sip of her juice, considering. "I know that nothing will convince me I can't go back like Impressing, so in that way, I don't hope for it," she began slowly, "But if I must stay, and that seems to be the general consensus, I believe Impressing is the best way to have a say in what happens to me. Perhaps I don't know enough to make that assertion."

She took another sip, stalling for time to think. "If the bond is really what they say, though..." she trailed off, uncertain she wanted to finish that thought. This was very personal ground; she was already sorry the phrase had made it past her lips. "Being known in every way and loved for all your life, I can't imagine anyone who doesn't want that," she lightened her tone with a heavy attempt at levity. She did want that, but she feared it, too. If she were left Standing, that would be devastating. Perhaps she didn't actively want to Impress, but she also did not want to fail at it, especially when the choices the dragons made were based upon everything you were and had ever been. Being told that all of her wasn't good enough would be, ah, unpleasant.

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Written By: ZZZ Archived
#8
"Not at all, actually," he said. "Larrikith is calmer and much more intelligent, and possibly the single meanest creature I've ever encountered." Tal frowned a bit.  He'd noticed of late that he was attracted to hard-edged people. His closest friends were practically all sharp-tongued and aggravating. Larrikith was sharp-tongued and aggravating. Why did her snarking make him so uncomfortable? Was it the viciousness of it? Or just the fact that if any one being could be credited with the loss of his old life, it was her?

Now she had, on some level, saved it as well. Shards to that creature! Tal didn't like not knowing how to feel about something. He was used to being analytic. Larrikith, like so many of those he'd met at the Weyr, seemed to enjoy slaughtering his usual way of viewing the world and dancing upon it's corpse.

He just shook his head. "There are stereotypes concerning the dragon colors, but so far,  I see little truth in them," he said as he stabbed a piece of roast wherry with his fork. He paused and let out a little laugh. "So far, though, I've yet to meet one that I care for." He hesitate for a moment. "That's not why I wasn't allowed at the touching, though. I haven't been well," he explained. He figured she was clever enough to figure out what he meant without excessive chatter; he was mentally unstable.  Surely every-sharding-one knew by now, he thought grumpily. He wasn't stable, so he wasn't even allowed near the eggs.

He took a few more bites before answering her next query. A troubled expression flickered across his face, but it didn't linger for long. Like many healers, Talian was a bleeding heart when it came to such things. He hated to hear about unnecessary deaths.  "Exposure and predators," he said. "There are some horrible beasts out there in the jungle, and far worse in the sea....As far as I can tell, this place is inescapable." A weighty bit of resignation lurked in his light voice.

The next part should probably have triggered more sadness, but in spite of himself, he managed a pleasant but plainly masochistic little laugh. "We're both sticks, then," he said with massive morbidity. He was the undisputed King of the Mopers. He knew he'd been a pathetic sack of useless for most of his time at Katila. He didn't want the Weyr to profit from his skill, though that was a tricky road, since his skill happened to be saving peoples' lives. Not a lot of flexibility there without turning into a murderer.

He decided to speak to that effect. "I'd have pouted back," he said, laughing again.  He was getting some genuine amusement out of the situation, though an uncomfortable gleam in his eyes revealed just how true it was. He'd had a lot to lose.

It was still worth being alive, though.

An indifferent look came over him as she mentioned Impressing. "It sounds wretched to me," he confessed, letting his guard down just a bit. He liked Breccan thus far and found her clever and observant, the sort of person who wasn't a complete bother to talk to. Talian didn't befriend optimists or idiots. He wasn't the sort to spill his secrets to each person who showed interest in him (though he'd noticed that Breccan seemed awfully curious about him), but this was something he was comfortable discussing. After all, this was some common ground he had with all the other stolens...some common ground that wasn't distressing to talk about, too!

"They say the bond is amazing, but to be honest, I don't know if I can handle having someone in my head all the time. And think about it..." He paused to finish off his klah. "Your dragon determines your rank, your responsibilities...even who you sleep with?"

He blushed a little bit. It wasn't a virginal blush, but rather the blush of someone with a secret.

Shards, I'm smitten he realized miserably. Why, of all people, was he still fixated on Erisi? Because it kept his mind off his girlfriend back home?

He suddenly raised an eyebrow. "Breccan, may I ask you a question?"

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#9
Breccan's lips turned upward slightly at his description of Larrikith. She hadn't met the Green in question, and had no idea how valid his observations were, but she found something about his phrasing amusing. Even her small knowledge of Grith led her to believe firmly she hadn't a mean bone in her body, so she had to conclude that the dragons were as variable as the people they Chose. "What's her Rider like?" she asked. If he or she was calm, mean, smart, that would be two for two Riders with large similarities to their dragons. Having a dragon who was similar to her wouldn't be so bad...and a moment later, she refuted that thought. Grith was much more enthusiastic and bubbly than Par'a, perhaps Larrikith was much crueler than her Rider. A dragon who was more Breccan would be more what? Intelligent? Wildly insecure? She snorted lightly into her stew. Not such a cup of tea after all.

She wisely held her tongue about his explanation regarding the Touching. He genuinely looked as if he had been physically ill, but he had looked healthy enough to her the day they'd met, and that had only been a few sevendays before the Touching. Since she thought it unlikely he'd been sick from then until now, she had to conclude that it was a problem that lay a little deeper. And, well, though she enjoyed his company thus far, she recognized that he had some personal issues to work through. If pressed, she wouldn't have described him as unstable, necessarily...but perhaps slow to adjust? Interesting, though, that a dragon could make such a mistake. Echlerov had been insistent that they didn't choose anyone unsuitable, but it looked like the Weyrleadership had deemed Talian as such. From a practical standpoint, he was probably more valuable as a Master Healer than a Rider anyway; no rigorous Weyrlinghood to keep him out of the Infirmary. Did that mean, though, that he'd have to hover, spending his time as a Candidate until he was too old and creaky to be one any longer?

Those were Talian's problems, though, not hers, and none of her business. She accepted that predators were the most likely cause of death for would-be escapees, and exposure just as likely. This was a new environment even for her, and she had a wide-ranging knowledge of plants. Plenty here wouldn't be so lucky. She was reasonably confident that she could distinguish edible plantlife from the not-so-edible, and perhaps more importantly, knew how to test unfamiliar plants on herself in small amounts. However, she had no real knowledge of how to defend herself from predators, simply because she'd never needed to. There weren't felines on the Northern continent, and even journeying she'd never had to do much more than frighten off a lone wherry.

She grinned at his assertion that they were both sticks, and laughed easily along with him. "That would have been pretty special. I don't believe I've ever tried to out-sad someone before, but I can be pretty competitive," she answered, amused. Pretty competitive was a wild understatement, though. She really would have tried to be sadder than him. Or, possibly, been so disgusted by his moping that she'd quit her own.

Breccan was a little taken-aback by his opinion on the bond. What sounded wretched about complete acceptance? As he elaborated though, she winced, remembering the burst of noise that had been Grith in her head. "When I think ahead, I tend to overlook the 'someone in your head' part," she admitted, with a grimace of distaste that left no doubts about her feelings on that aspect of the bond. He continued, and she realized she'd never really considered that Impressing might actually hold her back. What if she did Impress Green? She wasn't sure if Greenriders were allowed to do much of anything. Perhaps they could aspire to Candidatemaster, and then she could be in charge of all the pouting. But what further responsibilities would she be given if she Impressed Blue, or Brown? At least with Brown she could perhaps be a Wingleader...but she hardly saw the purpose in that. Some around here seemed to blindly believe that dragons=Thread, but there hadn't been any Thread for hundreds of years. Spending her days doing pointless drills didn't appeal to her either. That really only left Gold, but before she gave it any thought, she realized suddenly that Talian was blushing.

Why was he blushing? It wasn't an innocent sort of blush, like he'd shocked himself by the mention of sex. It was downright secretive. "I've asked you enough of them," she answered agreeably, by way of assent, putting a spoonful of stew in her mouth and hoping that kept her from looking too eager. Was he going to ask her a question about sex? Well, she could probably answer just about anything he came up with. The idea of a dragon determining who you slept with hardly bothered her, unless Impressing a male dragon meant sleeping with women on a regular basis. She'd have to hope a man would volunteer to closet himself with her when her dragon Chased, in that eventuality.

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#10
By this time, he'd picked up on hint of her competitive streak. Her assertion didn't surprise him. Talian wasn't very competitive himself, though at the Hall he'd been subjected to plenty who were. During his turns in regular classes, his peers often made a sport out of trying to exceed his marks. They never did, but they sure as shells tried. He'd never seen sure whether to view such attempts as an actual threat or not. It's not like they would actually be taking anything physical from him if they caught up. Just his title, which he alternated between being proud of and not caring about. It seemed paltry compared to the things some others had in their lives, but on the other hand, it was his greatest asset.

"Her rider?" he replied a bit late. "B'jin. He's like a father to me," he replied, his tone warming somewhat. B'jin was one of the few people that Talian could and would say with complete conviction that he loved. The other he'd come to terms with never seeing again, drawing him even closer to B'jin. That was a different kind of love, though.  Erisi and Valerian had reached a similar point themselves, but Fiora...those would be hard shoes to fill. She'd left a void in him.

"B'jin is very cheerful and outgoing, but he's just as snarky as the dragon is...they work well together I suppose. They're almost opposites, with just enough overlap to feel like kindred spirits," he said. As poetic as his phrasing might sound, he spoke in the same actual tone that he always did, soft and very factual. He did manage a big, almost cheesy smile though. He loved B'jin dearly. After all, B'jin had been his friend when he had none, his father when he'd always longed for one....and saved his life when no one else could. The healer displayed genuine warmth when B'jin's name came up, though it didn't linger long enough to be too sappy. Maybe it's because  Fiora was skittering around in his subconscious. Maybe it was just so he could slide into his question. Speaking of fathers...

"Did you know a master healer at the Hall named Talerian?" Tal asked, eyes widening in interest and just a hint of pleading. As badly as he wanted to ask about Fiora, he doubted Breccan knew her...and since Breccan seemed the catty and competitive type, he doubted she'd have much comment if she did. Fiora was a female healer, and therefore would have been competition. B'jin had already agreed to look in on Fiora, though. Tal was curious about his father.

"He's my father," he explained hastily, though anyone who'd laid eyes on both men would know. Father and son looked remarkably alike, especially the tawny eyes. "Stern man, greying mahogany colored hair and a thin nose. He teaches suturing sometimes," he said, biting his lip nervously. He knew the hall had gone into an uproar when he vanished. He;d heard the rumors. But he didn't know about his father's reaction.

"Do you know if he...well, how he reacted when I went missing?"

He didn't dare ask B'jin to check in on Talerian. B'jin had heard the horror stories...he'd almost certainly be tempted to do something. Talerian was a cruel, unimaginative man who Talian traced most of his problems back to. He dearly hoped to hear that his father had at least shown signs of being worried, but he doubted he would hear such a thing. It would at least be nice to know,

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#11
Breccan was a bit surprised at Talian's description of this B'jin. Even the small warming of his tone was significantly more than she'd ever heard out of him, and she was somewhat reassured that Talian was capable of such human feelings. Perhaps her suspicions that he preferred men were correct, though he asserted that B'jin was a fatherly figure, not a romantic one. She reflected that she'd heard Talian had a girlfriend, some other Healer in the Hall, but she'd dismissed those rumors as exactly that: rumors. Surely the immortal, grand Talian wasn't so mundane as to fall for someone less remarkable than he was. It was interesting to meet the actual Talian and compare him to all the wild stories she'd heard. He really wasn't at all what she'd expected.

Kindred spirits. More than anything else, she caught that phrase, and some deep part of her surged. That was what she wanted. Someone different, not like her, but kindred, but same, at some fundamental soul-deep level that could never be refuted. If she did Impress a male dragon, she wondered, would she lose her need for a male human? Or was it a different kind of love? She was tempted by that idea, being so in love with your Blue or Brown that you no longer required the inconstant, unreliable love men offered. Perhaps Blue or Brown would be best. Something in her recognized that as cowardly. She wanted to believe that was possible because it was so much safer than letting someone close, letting them know you, and risking that they wouldn't like what they saw. The dragon would already know you, and love you until the end of your days and his. Of course that was safer.

Talian's question broke through her musing, and she caught the new changes on his face. The similar name, the change in attitude; with a touch of sympathy, she realized it was almost certainly his father. With the ease of long practice, she hid that knowing and the sympathy, listening with no more than polite interest as she took another spoonful of stew. When he admitted Talerian was his father, she allowed that sympathy to touch her eyes, but no more, chewing slowly as she listened. She knew precisely who he was talking about, had in fact had him for suturing. Once she'd very nearly thought he was going to compliment her on her row of neat, tight practice stitches, and instead he'd pointed out she'd done a sloppy job of tying off. A man that criticized the knot at the end of the life-saving procedure wouldn't be an easy man to grow up with. For the first time, she felt she understood something about Talian.

Carefully, she took another bite of stew, timing it so that she'd be chewing when he was done talking. She needed the time, to think. Talerian had been furious, she knew that well enough. Worried though? On some level she guessed that if he were, he'd be more likely to express it in anger than in sorrow, but she was not a mind-healer, and had no training in delving into someone else's psyche. Whether the man had been angry to hide his fear for his son or simply because his legacy had been taken was anyone's guess, and it wasn't something she was willing to put marks on.

"Sorry," she said, her tone unusually soft, "I was halfway across Pern when you were taken. It took me a almost a month to make it back to Fort, and I wasn't even there a week before I was stolen." A trace of bitterness crept into her tone. There was no point in telling Talian she'd hoped to take his place, but that the opportunity had been taken from her still rankled.

"I know Talerian was extremely upset. The drudges wouldn't come near him," she offered, "But more than that, I cannot say. We weren't on visiting terms." That was all true enough. Apprentices had been forced into bringing Talerian meals, but they bickered vociferously amongst themselves about who would have to do it. Frankly, though, the mental state of her old, wildly unpleasant suturing Master hadn't really been on her mind at the time. That probably wasn't something she could say, but Talian was perceptive enough. He was probably aware by now that her priorities were rarely 'how is so-and-so feeling today?'

"I wish I could tell you more," she said, a bit wistfully. She did like Talian. She did want to have someone she could count as a friend here, even an unstable weirdo of a Master Healer. But she could hardly see what she had to offer him in return. Obviously he'd built solid relationships here, and he outranked her, had more knowledge than she did. She didn't know any other way to measure herself; only accomplishments seemed to make sense. By that strict standard, she knew she was useless to him. That didn't exactly crush her, but she wasn't happy about it either.

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#12
Talian rocked forward onto his knuckles, elbow planted firmly on the table before him. His thin brows scrunched as his eyes narrowed, a troubled expression setting in to his gaunt face. "It's all right," he said, his tone softer than one might have anticipated with such a sour expression lingering on his face. "I wouldn't expect you to be on personal terms with him...very few are."

He sighed a little bit, unable to hold the distressed expression for long before folding back into his neutral-on-the-side-of-melancholy comfort zone. He recognized a blend of sympathy and bitterness in Breccan, which he responded to with nothing but a fleeting smile. Fleeting, but sincere. He didn't try to verbally comfort her. He was no good at that. His expression did radiate sympathy, though. Even empathy. He knew all too well what it was like to be whisked away by a stranger. At least Breccan seemed intent on getting over it. She seemed tough...she probably would, unless she was putting on a major facade.

"Thank you, though," he practically crooned. "It's good to know he at least noticed." He wasn't going to get in to the intricacies of his not-relationship with his father, but the momentary constriction of every muscle in his body was hard to miss.

He was quiet for a few minutes as he finished the remainder of his stew. He wanted more. He'd been sullen for so long that he'd forgotten what it felt like to have a healthy appetite. He resolved to wait, however, and finished off the last little bit of his drink before finally continuing to speak. He realized suddenly that his long pause must have been awkward for her, which had never been his intention. The way girls were sometimes unnerved by silence or wanted to fill it in with any sort of chatter confused him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get so quiet," he said suddenly, letting out a little embarrassed laugh. Tal was much of the same mind as Breccan; he wanted more friends. For some strange reason, he'd attracted all sorts of friendly attention since arriving at Katila. Now that he'd brushed with death, he realized what a fool he'd ever been to push it away. His friends were the only things he had left to live for. More of them could only be good?

He didn't know why Breccan was so reserved around him. He had no idea how important rank or the idea of reciprocity factored in to her thoughts. He just knew that she was cautious but curious towards him, which made him feel cautious but curious back. Was she holding something back from him? Or did he make her nervous?

He smiled again and leaned forward just slightly. "...You know, I can't help but feel like we've talked about me far too much," he said lightly. He didn't know what else to say, so he just watched and waited to see how she would respond. In hindsight, he would have kicked himself at the perceived awkwardness.

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#13
The Breccan of a few months ago would have cringed at that expression on Talian's face, anticipating his disappointment and drowning in her own desperate response, her need to make him believe she could do better. Now's Breccan simply watched and waited, feeling a flutter in her chest that was almost unrecognizable as that old feeling simply because it was so much smaller. She didn't want to disappoint anyone, and still lived for praise, but something had changed. Perhaps it was only because, realistically, she knew she could hardly have known to try and chum up to her old Master so she could explain his deepest thoughts to his son on a different continent in the future. Or perhaps she really was changing. Huh.

She simply nodded, some of that anxious fluttering soothed by his reassurance that it was alright, though not all. She nearly spilled out some comment about Talerian's general unpleasantness, but managed to head off her mouth at the pass. Whatever his relationship was with his father -and it had to be odd- it was his business. Her own father, though a competent Lord, was just a randy old man who'd been beguiled and then thoroughly dominated by a seventeen-turn girl. Her private thoughts on that matter were her business, for example. It was interesting to watch him react so physically to the knowledge his father had noticed he was stolen. Noticed was the least she'd expect; she couldn't imagine reacting so positively to anything short of a tearful confession of love. Interesting indeed.

She toyed with her food. By now the stew was chilling and almost finished; what remained in the bowl wasn't worth bothering with. The meatrolls were long gone, but she thought she could manage a sweet of some variety, if they were up for grabs. Considering, her eyes turned towards the kitchens. Faranth, she needed to befriend a pastry-maker. There was a goal for a rainy day.

A little belatedly, she realized how long the silence had stretched, and glanced surreptitiously up through her eyelashes to see what he was doing. Talian was nonchalantly finishing up his drink, to all appearances completely unaware that they'd just been sitting there, not even looking at one another, for at least a minute and a half, maybe as many as three. She didn't feel awkward, though she knew she probably should. In her own way, Breccan was as confused by social protocol as Talian. Unlike him, she'd made it her business to know which were the correct responses for what, so that she'd never feel off-balance during a conversation. She disliked that particular emotion. If she could help it, she wanted to be prepared for things.

When he did speak, she flashed him an amused smile, the emotion reflected in her grey eyes. She did like Talian. Perhaps it was just that he was so different from most of the people she'd ever met, though similar enough to interact with. More or less. "The past is a quiet place," she answered readily, assuming he'd been musing over his father or something similar from his lost former life.

Another smile out of him, and then something she hadn't expected. He'd seemed content enough to talk about himself and leave her out of things. For a moment, Breccan completely balked. The alarm on her face was all too visible, and then she found her feet. She laughed. "Faranth, Talian, for a moment I thought you were hitting on me," she grinned at him, "Not that that's horrifying, I just didn't...it was, ah, unexpected." She fumbled a little lamely in her explanation, not wanting him to be offended by whatever her expression had just been. Without a mirror, she couldn't be sure, but she could guess it hadn't been super positive.

What on Pern did he even want to know about her, and what for? She supposed that this was how friendship was supposed to work, with sharing and all that, but she'd found it much easier to just get people talking about themselves. By the time they were done they were so convinced you liked them you hardly even had to be friendly. How did you even start that conversation? 'Oh, I like walks on the beach?' Talian would have to push a little to get much out of her, and she was reasonably confident he wouldn't.

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#14
"Silence can be a good thing," he agreed solemnly. Talian was comfortable with almost any pace of conversation, from something engaging straight down to quiet companionship. He liked Breccn enough that the silence didn't phase him at all. He was content to sit there with her and eat peacefully, though he found himself awfully embarrassed over his little lapse into daydreams.

When Breccan laughed, Tal wasn't sure what to do. Had he said something offensive, or perhaps stupid? Well, he rarely said stupid things, but socially inappropriate ones were another matter. He looked away for a moment, eyes narrowed in a troubled expression, while she awkwardly explained herself. She certainly looked...what was that expression? Some odd blend of confusion and horror.

He wasn't aware he'd made that bad of an impression. Unsure what to think, he just turned his eyes back down to his drink. He cringed subtly, expecting some kind of rebuke, but was again surprised when he heard and comprehended her words.

"...Hitting on you?" he asked, mystified. Well, that wouldn't be the first time he'd failed to realize he was coming on to someone. Erisi came to mind. Vividly. His face heated up in a noticeable blush as he looked to her again, tawny eyes shining with timid curiosity. "I didn't mean to," he said truthfully. He frowned at his own words and replicated Breccan's own comment. "...That came out wrong," he said flatly, aggravated by his own (what he perceived as) foolishness. "That's certainly not it. You're a lovely lady!" he said, holding one open-palmed hand out for emphasis, his expression entirely too serious as he tried to get his wording correct.

"I mean....I was just asking. I can't help but feel a little pompous when all I talk about is myself," he confessed rigidly. Not to mention uncomfortable. That conversation was on a one-way trip to 'Daddy Issues', a place he knew without asking that neither of them wanted to be. "And I just..." he realized at that moment that he was breathing a bit too quickly, which he couldn't do anything about mid-sentence. "....well, you seemed nervous around me when we met, and I didn't want you to feel like I considered myself...better than you," he explained hastily.

He exhaled, finally. His eyes were wide and just a little wild. He pursed his lips and tried to avoid laughing at himself.

After a moment, he was calm again. He didn't take his eyes off of her as he continued, waiting with fascination to hear and see her response. "...Rank doesn't matter that much to me. But it seems to matter to everyone I meet," he explained lightly. "....I've come to appreciate it more now than I did back at home, even though I know that probably doesn't make any sense. But, I honestly was just trying to be polite. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable," he said. He relaxed a bit. "You are lovely, though." His tone was probably a bit too analytically, like he was observing a fact rather than paying someone a compliment, but it was still accompanied by a gentle smile.

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#15
Talian's solemn agreement sparked another smile out of her. You never really knew what he was going to respond with, or even how he was going to say it. Perhaps that was what she liked about him, even though she did feel a low level of something kin to anxiety when they spoke. Typically she spent conversations predicting what was going to be next out of someone's mouth so that she could respond in a clever or merely acceptable way, but she couldn't play that game with him. It would be way too bad for her self-esteem to be wrong all the time. The part of her that needed to be in control of things probably didn't like him much at all, but he amused and intrigued the rest of her. That was good enough.

Unfortunately, he seemed just as confused by what she'd thought was a reasonable explanation as she'd been by his simple statement. Shards. No easy way out here, then, and that meant floundering. Breccan hated to flounder. She was a little surprised to see his face reddening, and had to wonder for a shocked moment if he actually had been hitting on her. How did she feel about that? She hadn't even begun to muddle her way through her own emotions to find out when he assured her he hadn't been, which was mostly a relief, and she wasn't interested in the rest. Probably some petty female indignation that not every man she met wanted to throw himself on the ground and declare true love. Pah!

Still, she couldn't keep a smile from at least faintly curving her mouth as he backpedaled frantically, re-explained, and finally reassured her she was lovely. That cracked her, upgrading her from smile to grin. They had this in common, anyway. Sometimes her mouth just got ahead of her brain, and then she had to spend minutes awkwardly ensuring her real point made it across.

Oh. Things weren't going so well, here. She'd been hoping to steer the conversation towards "ahaha what a cute blunder!" for long enough to make her escape without it looking like she was fleeing his 'advances.' Now here we were, back in confession land, and Talian was starting to look more like the insane version of a genius. She listened seriously, the smile on her face forgotten. A confession of a personal nature made her feel like she had to provide one as well, partially because that was only fair, and partially because she felt it was the only way to make herself clear and explain any nervousness. She returned his smile in a distracted sort of way, trying to consider how best to explain herself, now that it was going to be her turn.

"Sorry," she provided, thinking it a logical way to start, "I'm just more comfortable listening than talking about myself. I mean, I've got no secret big-bad history, but I guess I don't really know what to say." That little confession came out hesitantly, but she was surprised to find she didn't feel so bad once she paused. Hmm. Awkward, yes, but she thought that at this point that was more of her own making than his. A faint smile flashed upwards for a moment, self-deprecating amusement in her eyes. "I guess it would be easier if I did have a secret big-bad history," she observed, a statement that was neither here nor there.

"I don't think that you think you're better than me," she explained slowly, disliking the wording but unable to think of a better way to put it, "But it's easier for me to measure people by rank, so I guess I think you're better than me. It's nothing you've done, so please don't be self-conscious." She paused a moment. "I enjoy your company," she offered honestly. She left unsaid the rather obvious conclusion that she measured herself by rank rather than any other trait, though she couldn't quite hope that he wouldn't come to it just because she hadn't said it out loud.

"I guess as I get to know you I'm trying to measure you differently, but I don't really know how. Maybe you don't have to...compare people, or...assign them worth or whatever I'm doing," she waved a hand negligently, indicating she wasn't going to take the time to examine that particular issue just now, "But I don't know how not to?" This last lifted upward at the end like a question, and the look she gave him was odd, analytical and faintly desperate. What she did and why she did it were things she didn't necessarily look at too hard, at least not when she could avoid it. She had no idea if anyone else judged people as often as she did, or if it was right that she did it at all. She did know she didn't know how not to, and she was too realistic to think Talian had the answer to that. He'd just said rank didn't matter much to him, so this was likely not an issue he'd ever encountered and worked through. In fact, she was quite sure no one could help her find some new way to evaluate herself. Instinctively, she thought that was up to her and her alone, but she didn't know where to start, or even if she should.

When it came to Breccan, Breccan rarely had a clue.

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#16
Her acceptance of his explanation was a relief. He even found himself grinning alongside her. He had a nice smile that he shared with greater frequency these days, but an outright grin was rare. It was accompanied by another mild blush, but whether it was caused by attraction or by embarrassment at the mix up was unclear.

"I didn't mean to cause any confusion," he said gently as his eyes flickered back to his plate. He rarely found himself in such a position, lingering in the dining hall after finishing his meal. He hadn't found many people at Katila that he considered worth talking about.

"We don't have to talk about you if you don't want to," he said shrewdly, casting her a knowing, perhaps sympathetic glance. He listened intently to her speech about the classification of people. He could tell she was really thinking hard about her feelings on the matter. He could only imagine what she was thinking. It was interesting. He leaned forward just a hair and nodded kindly as she fell silent.

He wanted to comfort her, to tell her that he knew that it was like to have problems. He didn't think she was the sort of girl to go for that, though. He feared she would interpret it as pity rather than sympathy and suspected she would like to move on with the conversation. So instead, he just gave her a warm smile and a slow nod of confirmation that yes, he had listened.

He wasn't sure what else to say, so he decided to diffuse the tension - or at least he hoped to. His social endeavors didn't always work out, but miraculously, Breccan seemed to like him. Maybe his luck would hold out and he would have one more friend in this sea of enemies. "Well, I believe I'm quite the opposite. I usually feel bad going on about my big bad history, especially lately," he said with a coy smirk. He was making fun of himself, but like so many situations like that, he did so with a hit of bittersweetness.

"So," he asked, leaning forward one one elbow and clearing his throat, announcing that he planned to change the topic. The blush was finally fading from his cheeks. "How many of the others have you met?"

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#17
Breccan was gratified to see such an openly happy expression on his face. He smiled quite a bit, but his smiles were often touched with some other emotion, sadness or bitterness or some other emotion from the more negative strata. This was a new expression, just as infrequent for her as it was for him, and she found herself delighted by it. She'd probably have happily sat there and grinned at him and been grinned at for hours.

"I appreciate that," she answered softly, taking her turn in a brief study of her near-empty plate, "Maybe..." She trailed off, unsure how to finish that statement, and finally provided a small smile. "When I get it figured out," she settled on that promise, "Then we'll talk." A touch of amusement returned to her eyes, and she returned the warmth in his expression as soon as she saw it in his. She was grateful that he did not push, and a little bemused by his apparent understanding of her. It had been a dramatic step for her to say what she had, even in such uncertain terms, and all she really needed was for it to be heard. Perhaps later she would need questions, even tough ones, but now she just needed to know it was okay that she'd said what she said. The roof was not going to fall in on them. The few people remaining in the dining hall were not going to leap to their feet with scandalized expressions and exile her to the forest. Nothing bad at all was going to happen just because she'd said something personal to someone else. She sighed, a contented sound, and hardly knew she'd done it.

"Maybe I should make one up," she answered in the same vein, relieved to return to palyfulness, "Give myself something new to feel bad about." Her amusement trod a similar line between humor and bitterness, and she felt a touch of wistfulness for the grinning they'd just done. That had been better than all of this with its layers of unhappiness to get through just to tell a joke.

"Well," she considered, settling back slightly and looking towards the ceiling in a parody of someone struggling to pull information out of their memory, "There's you. Oh, and Lymsleia. I suppose I can count Echlerov, and maybe Indivara and Par'a. So three Northerners, and five people overall." She made a small face. That was a pretty pathetic number, no greater than the number of fingers on her hand. "I know a few of the Healers' names as well, but I haven't really gotten to know any of them. And I made some weaver show me the basics once, but I don't believe I ever caught her name." She shrugged a shoulder upwards. "What about you? Is there a secret social butterfly buried in Katila's Master Healer?" she asked, leaning forward to mimic his earlier movement, and putting her chin in a palm, elbow thumping quietly onto the table.

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#18
"It's not a problem," he replied, mellow and gentle. She looked like she felt better after her speech, which he didn't doubt. He wasn;t going to pretend to understand for a moment, though. Classfiiciation of worth based on rank had always puzzled him, mostly because he tended to feel undeserving of his own and rarely knew an older Master that he cared for. The Weyr was proving quite similar; those in power were cruel and unpleasant.

There was another side to that, of course. Tal had grown accustomed to being made a big deal of. It started young and simply never stopped. Now, he was suddenly faced with being the very bottom, the lowest of the low. It wasn't the loss of power he resented, but he loss of control. His ranking at home had promised to be his ticket to a life of his own, the one thing that would earn him freedom from his father and other tormentors. Now he was not only knocked to the bottom, but had even less control over this life than he had before.

Another reason to never Impress a dragon. If he Impressed, he'd be even more bound to them.

He banished these thoughts quickly, choosing to choke them down in exchange to joking around with Breccan. That was a much nicer passtime for sure, even if Talian was a poor joke-teller. Everything came out of him as a pile of facts. "I could loan you some of mine," he said reservedly and with a curt laugh, though he started unconsciously wringing his hands as he spoke. "You can even keep my father, if you like."

He was suddenly quite pleased with himself, having managed to tell a joke without stumbling through it or sulking once it was over. A smug expression crossed his face as he adjusted himself in his seat, taking a moment to think over Breccan's next query. A social butterfly? Hardly.

"Well...B'jin," he said. "And Erisi and Valerian..." he rattled off, naming first one of their most abrasive classmates. He really did have a masochistic streak. He paused and frowned. "And well, you and Lymsleia. So I suppose five for me, as well." That wasn't very promising. "I know many people by name and face, but I think those I listed are the only ones I've spoken to more than once, at least not seriously. Perhaps in passing..."

He shifted uncomfortably. He wondered if he would ever actually be comfortable in this place. He envied Breccan already, as she seemed at least willing to adapt. Maybe he wasn't seeing the whole story, though. To him, this was no opportunity, just damnation.  It should have been an opportunity, but he still couldn't bring himself to let it be.

He swallowed hard. "I have more friends here than I did at home" he confessed, like he was telling a dirty secret. The reality there was a sharp contrast to his private thoughts, but he felt it was worth mentioning. "I'm still quite embarrassed that I don't recognize you from home, really...We should have at least met at some point, but I suppose my father kept me busy..."

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#19
Breccan's ideas of rank and control were a touch more convoluted than Talian's. Rank was control, and she craved control over her life the way a fellis-addict needed his drug. She did not mind, either, being put in some measure of control over the lives of others, due to a rather conceited assumption that she could put things in better order than they could. She had a confused idea that if someone had rank, they deserved to control others, but she knew incompetent Lord Holders, and even a Master or two she wouldn't have promoted to that position. And, of course, she hated when rank controlled her. It was a philosophy with too many exceptions and conditions to last life-long...probably.

However, unlike Talian, she firmly believed that Impression was the only way to regain control, and didn't consider that it was perhaps the most effective way of controlling her. Breccan could be quite blind when she made up her mind. She had a hazy notion that Impressing would also allow her to return North. Couldn't she fly there, or blink between? She sincerely doubted Northerners would shoot them from the sky, not when plenty of the population remembered dragons.

She laughed a little with him, shaking her head. "I still get nervous when I'm stitching, imagining him over my shoulder," she confessed, "I think I'll make up a drunk or a fellis-doser. That's simple, and I'll be a hero for rising above my parents' failings. Those are the stories that win you fame and fortune." She lifted her eyebrows and inclined her head as if giving him a bit of sage advice, but the smile on her face spoiled the ruse.

"Well, you might be able to count Larrikith as well, so that makes six," she amended, "And if we're judging by more than one conversation, then I'm down to just you and Lymsleia." She shook her head faintly, more to herself than to him. She knew the importance of networking, of having allies, so why hadn't she made any? Lymsleia was pleased as punch to be here and while she thought Talian might join her if she came up with a viable plan for escape, he didn't seem to think it was possible. On the escape front, she was most certainly at zilch.

Even taking that out of the equation, she should have buttered up a few people, enough that they could believe they were her friends. She used to do that all the time at Healer; had done it to Lymsleia, in fact, and then dropped her like a hot potato the minute she walked the tables. In five Turns, she'd never so much as written the girl, nor had she known Lym had even been stolen. To her surprise, she felt a flicker of guilt. If nothing else, Katila was probably making her a better person...whatever that meant.

"So do I," she agreed, voice low, all-too-aware that two friends shouldn't be a high point in her personal life. "Honestly, I'm glad we didn't really meet before. I would never have met you as a person, or thought of you as a person...I would have just been another adoring fan of Talian the Master," she confessed, her smile faintly sardonic, "And I'm sure you had enough people who didn't want to know too much about you around. I guess I'd rather have it this way."

Really, she wasn't sure why she hadn't immediately put Talian on an enormous pedestal and determinedly worshiped him from afar. Perhaps it was because he hadn't been anything like what she'd expected, and that had made her curious about him rather than reverent or resentful of his rank. Either way, she was rather glad things had worked out the way they did. Yes, she wasn't doing her best at this whole Katila thing, but she'd done a few things right, and that counted for something.

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#20
"I'm sure he's ruined stitching for quite a few of his students," Talian replied, more seriously than he meant to. He still remembered the day he'd revealed to his father just how much better he was at stitching; he could remember the subtle but distinct gleam of jealousy in his father's eyes. Talerian was a strict and mostly unwilling teacher, though, with little compassion for or interest in students. Tal hadn't thought much about others having to work under the old man, but it sounded like their experiences had been just as unpleasant as his own. Try living with him!

He didn't say that out loud, of course. He'd caused enough drama and moped about the Weyr enough to be somewhat self-conscious about his sob stories, and he certainly didn't want to turn a joking back and forth about such things into a serious 'who has the worst life' competition.

He shrugged a bit. "Larrikith and B'jin come as a package," he replied steadily. He still had mixed feelings towards Larrikith, but she made B'jin happy. That was enough.

A slightly flattered look crossed his face at Breccan's next words. "Adoring fan?" he asked sheepishly. He'd certainly had those in the past, but it had been a while, unless of course B'jin counted. "You are right, though. Everyone always wanted to meet me and ask the same old questions." He thought back about what she'd said before, about how Katila was something of a fresh start. People regarded him as an individual far more readily than they had at home.

He wasn't sure if he missed the attention or not. He wasn't sure if he liked the personal approaches people made, either. It was easier to act like a zombie and  muddle through formalities back home. Around here, people were more honest, but those honest emotions were hard to deal with. Tal's sad streak was too wide, his nasty feelings about the place too easily dragged up to make candid conversation easy. Even now, he was well aware of himself avoiding certain subjects like a careful little dance.

It wasn't all bad, though. It was certainly better than it had been.

He inhaled reluctantly and placed his hands on the tabletop. "Unfortunately," he said slowly, "I have a patient that I need to return to." He honestly didn't want to; he'd rather sit and talk than aid the recovery of a dragonrider, though his tune might have been a bit different if the rider's condition was life threatening. Not life threatening, just high maintenance.

He rose to his feet slowly and smiled at Breccan one final time. "I really am glad to have caught you, though. It's lonely here," he said earnestly. Where had Val and Eri gone off to? Tal made a mental note to try and track them down later. For now, having more friends was never a bad thing.

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#21
Breccan smiled into her empty plate at his serious rejoinder, a few choice memories of Talerian in her own head. She really had never given any thought to the man being someone's father, though she'd known of course that Talian was his son. She could remember more than a couple of Apprentices breaking into tears under his careful ministration. She had no desire to try living with him, and still hadn't wrapped her mind around all the damage that man had probably done to Talian as a child. She'd tried her best to impress the man -the difficult ones were the sweetest victories- and had never managed, despite her dogged pursuit of perfection. Perhaps, though, he'd taught Talian not to seek approval from others quite so much, since it had been so hard to find from him.

She was happy to drop the Larrikith subject again, having never met the Green. It still astonished her that he could speak so well of B'jin in one breath and have such confused feelings about his dragon in the next; like he said, they were a package, a team. Odd, that. She wondered if this upcoming Clutch resulted in her Impression if he'd like her dragonet, then dismissed the idea. Of course he would, and if he didn't, well, they'd just have to grab time while the beast slept. She had no intentions of losing one of her few friends just because she Impressed.

It was her turn to be embarrassed; she knew precisely how much she would have sought his favor if they'd met back up North. Adoring fan hardly did it justice. She wondered briefly what the same old questions were, but she guessed they were along the same vein as the ones she wanted to ask: how'd you rank so quickly, how did you deal with the pressure, can you teach me to 'insert procedure here.' She managed not to blush, but was almost grateful she'd been snatched off to Southern. At least she hadn't been just one in another long line of people wanting to worship at the throne of Talian. The feeling passed, though. As pleased as she was to have met him, and as much as she enjoyed his company, she still would have been happier up North, and she guessed, if asked, he'd say the same. There wasn't too much Katila offered that competed with their former lives up North.

"I've probably lingered too long as well," she agreed, then flashed a smile, "But I'm still grabbing a bubbly pie on my way out. It was a pleasure, Talian."

After a moment, she gave him a second, almost-shy smile. "Thanks," she added, trying to encompass everything succinctly. Thanks for keeping me from another dinner sitting alone, thanks for listening to everything I had to say, thanks for saying you were glad to have caught me. Saying all of those things would have been uncomfortable, even unnecessary. She thought, perhaps, he understood.

A moment after he left, she also returned her dirty dishes and helped herself to a bubbly pie. They really were good here.


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