[G] [O] 744.06.14 | Flower Power Hour

Orgailian let out a long sigh of frustration. He had just finished dinner and didn't know what to do with himself. In Igen Weyr, dinner was considered breakfast by many thanks to the slight drop in temperature making it easier to do many tasks. He wasn't officially one of those workers but he had taken to being more active at night and sleeping through the morning. Unfortunately, that wasn't how things were done in Fort Weyr and he had spent the last two days adjusting to the expected schedule of Candidates. But he still had several hours before curfew and any siblings he would have willingly hung out with either weren't in Fort or had their own plans that night. Rude of them.

He debated going to see Tandrelyn, but they had plans for tomorrow evening when she would have someone to watch their daughter. Her daughter, really. Their arrangement still worked for him and he had no desire to be an active part of Relian's life; though he did see the duo together earlier in the day. He had to admit, the kid was cute, but given who her parents were, that was unsurprising. But, no matter how much K'dar needled him and insisted he should be an active dad, Orgailian still wasn't swayed. That lifestyle just wasn't for him. He didn't even want to be an active uncle to T'ryn's growing brood.

Maybe he could go sweet talk--admittedly, not his strongest skill--one of the women doing the healer courses within the Weyr. Zelly didn't want to Impress in Fort since that would force her into the craft version of healing and take her away from everyone in Igen, but Orgailian knew she wouldn't mind getting her hands on a few more notes so she could build her own skills from. Unfortunately, that didn't pan out as most of the ladies were in study groups and two of the several women working alone acted like scorned lovers, which was fair; he couldn't remember bedding either of them.

Why had he decided a Fort Hatching was a good idea again? At least it was cooler and Orgailian took advantage of that fact by lingering outside a little longer while there was still light to jot some ideas down in his notebook. That task didn't last long either as he ended up sprawled on his back, book resting on his chest, as he stared at the Weyrwoman's little boxed garden on her ledge, coming up with words that rhymed with flower. Power, hour, glower, cower, dour, sour...

...wower, he was bored.

"Ooooh, look what the felines dragged in," came a saucy voice from his left. Dressed in a pale tunic with a deep, deep V cut to its neckline, wearing a shit-eating grin, sauntered in Qoriene, one of the Candidate familiars who hopped around from Hatching to Hatching like most Weyrbred Candidates.

She had arrived from Ista just a day or two prior, and, like Orgailian, had been adjusting to the time zone (and weather) difference. Yeah, sure, she had grown up in the Weyr but Weyrs did that whole autonomy thing so each one had its culture, its flavor. High and mighty Fort, as some would say, since it had been the first Weyr established. Had to maintain some prestige, right? Whatever.

Qoriene was impish enough to break some rules but not any of the ones that mattered. She knew the lines. Especially has Hatching got closer. So, much to her grumbling, she was up when called, in bed when told, and eyeing that white robe hanging on its peg balefully. If she Impressed at Fort, she sure as Red Star wasn't staying at Fort, she had already decided. Too prim and proper and not a bare ass on a beach in sight, unlike Ista.

Qoriene's grin widened as she plopped down near Orgailian. "When'd you get here?" she asked. And before he could answer, she was eyeing his notebook and asking, "Writing terrible poetry again? You need to stop that shit. It doesn't get you laid nearly as much as you think it does." Not that either of them had that problem but it was still fun to joke, especially since it had been some months since she'd seen Orgailian. Definitely time to catch up.

"Who let you back in?" Orgailian replied with a grin. Qoriene knew what it was all about. She was fun, didn't expect anything resembling commitment, and was just as snarky and blunt as he was so she wasn't easily offended. She was actually one of the few people he was sad to leave behind when he moved to Igen Weyr--not that he would ever tell Qori that and give her something to lord over him.

Orgailian opened his mouth to answer the question and instead gave a small laugh at the playful diss to his writing. "My good looks get me laid." It sure as shit wasn't his sparkling personality either. He didn't share his poetry with too many people to truly know if spouting some of it would actually get him laid. It seemed like too much of a time-waster and roundabout way when the direct approach of simply telling someone they were hot and asking if they wanted to bang worked just fine for him.

"And two very long days," he answered the question about how long he had been suffering in Fort as he sat up. The notebook was tucked back into his satchel and out of reach of curious friends. If Qoriene truly wanted to see it, she could beg for it. Until then, she would just have to suffer being his entertainment. "I don't know why I still bother with Fort. Most of the fun people are gone." There were still enough to keep him busy if they weren't so busy themselves. He'd eventually track down and corner M'quel and properly distract her from the assholes that were harassing her about being a Healer. She'd mentioned it in a letter to A'tay some time ago and it had been amusing to watch his brother try not to intervene with his Weyrsecond powers.

"How's Ista doing without me there? Did you join K'tir's book club full time yet?" He had even briefly been a member after everything he had heard about the brownrider's skills in bed. He definitely learned why Casa and Zelly insisted on helping K'tir, but how Zelly kept getting out of her chores to read to the blind man was beyond him. Were the Candidate Master and assistants truly that clueless or was it pity for the man that lost his vision and his daughter during the poison attacks?