A Slow Day of Searching [Open] (First Day, Noon)

[agriasnesme]

J'tan sighed quietly, but contentedly, as he stared out at the surf rolling slowly over his bare feet. He had put the rather turbulent exchange with Western's representative Wingleader from his mind, opting instead to just do as he'd always intended. He was simply going to lead his wing as best he could, and if M'tak had problems with it...

'Carth, my friend...I honestly hope you fly either or both of those damned golds.

He received no answer, knowing that Lecarth was whirling his eyes away in happiness. The wherries in the area were about to receive a violent downturn in population, simply by dint of the fact that the dragon loved how fat they were in this area.

J'tan shaded his eyes and tried hard to find his smaller partners without touching the emotional bond they all shared. It was a game to them, a fire lizard's version of hide and search. He smiled softly as he set about roaming the beach, looking for spiderclaws. He knew his partners preferred to do their own hunting, but sometimes, he really wanted to spoil them.

He'd decided not to worry too heavily about the Search just yet. He hadn't checked on the eggs, not yet, but he doubted quite heavily that they'd hatch within the next day or so. He figured he had perhaps even for two whole sevendays before he needed to really worry about it. He stopped down and caught a spiderclaw, a particularly large one, and tossed it into the air, sending a spike of satisfaction and warning down his link.

This was another game Ferret and Hunter enjoyed. Both of them appeared, not from between, but suddenly flying low over the beach's sands. Ferret was leading, but Hunter nipped him in the tail and caught the spiderclaw just as it began to fall under gravity's sway once more. J'tan laughed, and scooped up another one, tossing it for Ferret to catch as a consolation prize.

He settled down on the beach of this lovely little cove he'd found. He was near the forest, guarded from up above by a simple strip of rocky cliff. He chose to simply gaze at his fire lizards and merely watch them eat, not caring that his bare trousers were getting wet around the ankles. There would be time for worries later.

[Briarwind]

"The absolute worst thing about healers," Akantral complained to her silent companion, "is that they send the most horrid smelling packages." Haldis offered no reply, winging lazily about his beloved Mistress. The fact that her hands and clothing stank of the foul-smelling ointment she'd just delivered from one of the Collegium healers to the mines didn't seem to bother the firelizard in the slightest, and it was clear to Akantral that he thought she was being utterly silly. That, or that he didn't understand a word she was saying. Truth told, the latter was more likely, but she liked to entertain herself with the notion that it was the former. Such delusions helped make his company seem far more ... companionable.

"Well, you may not mind it, but I do, and I don't want to go traipsing through the Hold smelling like a healer's workroom," she griped idly to him, meandering down the edge of the path pensively. She had learned a long time ago to keep a change of clothes in her bag with her at all times, after she'd lost several items in the middle of a run to the various hazards of the job, so that part was easy enough, but getting the smell off her hands would be a bit harder.

A wave of hunger washed over her, intruding on her thoughts and feeling faintly out of place in the way that told her that it wasn't her own hunger, but rather, a protest from Haldis. Canting her head toward the firelizard, she accused, "You're nothing but a stomach with wings, aren't you?" Truth told, though, it had been a long time since she'd eaten - and a long time since he had, as well.

Now she thought of it, she could scrub her hands off at the beach while he hunted. She wouldn't want to swim this early in the spring, but giving her hands a good scrubbing certainly wouldn't be amiss, and it would let her get the smell off herself while she filled Haldis's stomach.

Really, it wasn't such a bad notion...

Wheeling abruptly on her toe, she whirled off the side of the path, scrambling down a hill, between the trees, and weaving her way toward the salty, tang scent of the ocean. Haldis chirruped and soared after her, responding gleefully to the image of a fish she sent at him with an aerial tumble.

It wasn't far to the ocean from where she'd left the path, but the way was awkward and difficult to navigate, and she found that it took rather longer than she'd anticipated to get there. This stirred some faint irritation in her, but Haldis hardly seemed to notice, launching himself into the water to fish while she knelt on the beach, scrubbing her hands with the sand. It was a coarse, grainy means of cleaning up, but it did its job well enough, and right then, that was all she could ask.

Once she was satisfied that she'd gotten the stuff off her hands, she retreated a little ways into the trees to change while Haldis cheerfully devoured his fish. She'd seen enough fishing vessels pass this way before to be at least a little wary, and it didn't take but a moment to duck into the trees, so it seemed the wisest course of action, to her.

Finally free of the smell, she walked back out onto the beach, whistling for Haldis. The firelizard looked up from the remains of his meal to eye her dubiously, then launched himself into the air, winging out to the water to sport on the waves. Akantral stared after him, considering calling him back for a long moment, but finally decided that it was high time he got some play. Winter had been long, and she had nowhere she needed to be, now her delivery was done. It would probably do the firelizard some good to stretch his wings - and her some good to relax for a little while.

Kicking up little tufts of sand as she walked, the young woman meandered distractedly down the shoreline, half-watching Haldis playing in the waves as she let her mind wander. It wasn't until she heard the bronze chirrup a greeting that she noticed the other firelizards on the beach - or their Master. Blinking, she pulled to a short stop, startled. She hadn't realized anyone else knew this beach was here.

[agriasnesme]

J'tan perked up as he heard a chirrup of greeting, receiving an impression from his fire lizards that indicated they'd found a new victim. He chuckled softly and looked up to see a bronze fire lizard. With a soft chuckle, he climbed to his bare feet and looked up and down the beach. Shaking his head at the new impressions, he gave them permission to wing and wheel about with their new friend while he looked for whoever the little darling had for a Master.

It was with a start that he realized it was a female, and worth another that he realized he was only wearing his leather riding trousers. He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head.

'Carth, have you eaten, yet? I seem to need my clothes...

The mirth he felt from the sleek bronze made him want to strangle his dragon, not for the first time.

You couldn't fit your hands around my neck, anyway. And I did warn you that you should take the saddlebags with you while I hunted.

And give Ferret and Hunter the chance to dart in and out of my clothes and risk cutting themselves on my bootknife?[/u]

You're the one who lets them have their fun. I'm full. I'll see you soon, Jetmine.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, canting his head to one side as he studied the young woman, approaching her slowly.

"Hello, there, miss. Is that your fire lizard?"

Of all the inane things to ask, of -course- it was her fire lizard. He tried hard to ignore the sound of his dragon's chuckling in his mind as he felt his partner arrive. With a sort of grim chuckle, he kept a close eye on the girl's face as Lecarth landed right behind J'tan, curling his neck around to rest his muzzle atop his rider's head.

J'tan's own expression became rather comical as he felt his dragon broadcasting his thoughts loudly, to address both his rider and the poor young girl.

Oooh, she's pretty. She smells nice, too.[/color]

[Briarwind]

The man's apparent discomfort, controlled though it was, brought a tiny smile to tug at the corner of Akantral's mouth. It was unkind, perhaps, but he'd caught her off-guard, and it rather pleased her to know that she had done the same to him. Turnabout, after all, was fair play. As he approached, however, the tiny smile dissipated quickly and tension shot up her spine. She was acutely aware of the hazards that went along with her chosen occupation, many of which bore all-too-human faces. It had not escaped her notice that he was larger than she was (though, admittedly, most men were), and suspicion meant survival.

"He is," she replied in a controlled voice, avoiding falling back a half-step only by force of will. If he didn't mean harm, retreat would likely upset him, and if he did, it would mark her as prey, which was always bad. Better to stand her ground. Besides, he did seem discomfited. It probably wasn't a concern.

Probably.

The appearance made her eyes widen momentarily, first in surprise, and then in dawning comprehension. A dragonman. Well, that explained a lot - everything but the hesitance she'd noted, in fact. It did little to alleviate her concerns, but it did settle her mind, at least, and that was a nice start. She eyed the bronze thoughtfully as she processed this, taking a moment to digest the full impact of his presence.

A moment was all she had, before a voice echoed from nowhere, intoning a proclamation that could only be about her. For a moment, confusion flickered over her features, only to be displaced by a mixture of dubious skepticism and obvious surprise. "Did he just ... talk to me?" she demanded, apprehension and prudence momentarily lost to the audacity of the situation.

[agriasnesme]

"Did he just ... talk to me?"

It took a great deal of willpower not to rest his face in his palms. He couldn't suppress a groan, and he rolled his eyes, looking up at the dragon that was still licking his teeth clean.

You just have to make things difficult, don't you?[/u]

Once again, an impression of mirth and laughter made the rider want to strangle his beast.

Your arms are too weak to hurt my neck, Jetmine. And of course. If I don't make you squirm, nobody else ever will. Your head is comfortable, you know.[/i]

He glared up at his dragon and sighed softly, knowing he was still broadcasting to the girl, whoever she was.

"You're incorrigible, Lecarth."

With a sigh, he ducked down and gave his dragon's neck a pat before rooting back to the saddlebags and retrieving his shirt. "Yes, miss, he did just talk to you. And despite his cheek, he meant it as a compliment; as a dragon, he's not prone to deceit." the rider said as he hastily pulled on his black cotton shirt, forgoing the leathers for now. "This big brute is my Lecarth. And, of course, those two out there are Ferret and Hunter. Nice to meet you, please stop looking like I want to eat you."

Really, I may not know deceit, but I do know she probably didn't like that.[/i][/color]

[Briarwind]

Akantral didn't bother to disguise the fact that she was staring, her gaze flickering between the rider and the dragon as her mind whirled rapidly. The dragonman and his lifemate were maintaining a familiar repartee that would have amused her under any other circumstances, if only some little bit, but at the moment, all they were doing was feeding her a little bit more to ponder on when she was already having trouble wrapping her mind around the situation.

Dragons didn't talk to anyone but their bonded. Everyone knew that. Why was this one talking to her? Why were they here? She smelled nice? Dragons were judges of human appearances? Or did he thinks he looked like a dragon? That would be awkward. What was the rider saying that she couldn't hear?

Finally, she found her tongue again, turns of schooling eliciting an introduction from her out of simple civility, if nothing else. "My name is Akantral. That's Haldis." The flitter chirruped at the sound of his name, too preoccupied with his games to pay any attention to his Mistress. Her mood wasn't distressed enough to worry him. "It's, er ... a pleasure, Lecarth, ... J'et, is it?" He hadn't given his name, but it had sounded like the dragon had called him 'J'etmine', so, near as she could tell, that must be his name.

For a breath, she paused, before adding, "And I never thought you were going to eat me." It was a touch flippant, perhaps, but he had asked her to stop being so wary of him.

[agriasnesme]

J'tan laughed softly, leaning against his dragon as he brushed his feet free of sand before pulling on his boots. He looked up at Akantral, his mouth cocked up at one side. His nervousness was fading, and quickly, though he was still wary of the girl. She looked like he'd has his dragon as long as she'd been alive, but wariness was a trait he'd had since he was old enough to understand that the word 'politics' meant a knife in your back at the opportune moment.

"J'tan. His name for me comes from the name I had before he caught me."

Well, you are my rider. She smells nice.[/b]

"So you've said, 'Carth." The rider looked up at Akantral and approached her slowly again, canting his head curiously. "If I may ask, what brings you out to this tiny little beach?"

He really didn't mean to sound so defensive, but his dragon was laughing continuously, and loudly, in his wide broadcast. To be honest, if it weren't his dragon, he'd be extremely irritated at this point. He smiled apologetically and offered his right hand to the girl, hoping against hope he wouldn't be oh-for-two when it came to niceties today.

It's not my fault you and M'tak don't like one another. She smells nice. Should we take her to the Weyr now?[/i]

At that moment, J'tan honestly wondered if an empty, soulless life would be worth getting rid of his cheeky partner.

It wouldn't be. You'd never remember to wash your back and behind your ears without me.[/i][/color]

[Briarwind]

Akantral accepted the offered hand after only a moment of hesitation. "Scrubbing, and feeding the belly with wings. I delivered an ointment for one of the Healers at the Collegium, and I wanted to get it off my hands," she explained. "Who's M'tak? And I smell like saltwater, right now. That's not that nice. I promise."

She had this nagging suspicion, stemming perhaps from the constant irritation the rider was showing toward his dragon, that there was a great deal of this that he would prefer she didn't hear, but since she was hearing it, it would be foolish of her to ignore it, and since the rider - J'tan - obviously knew she was hearing it, there was no point in pretending she wasn't.

It was still so odd to hear a voice coming from nowhere, like a stray thought that wasn't hers. Was this what it was like for dragonmen all the time? She wasn't sure she could do it without going quite spectacularly mad. She liked her solitude quite a bit. The thought of having to share her head with someone else was faintly unnerving on some level. It said something of dragonmen that they did it. It said, to her, that either they were very strong, or they were all quite mad. She wasn't altogether sure which sounded truer, either, or which she preferred. Oh, she liked the bronze - 'Lecarth,' she reminded herself - well enough, but she couldn't fathom what it must be like to hear him all the time.

Then again, with as vocal as he seemed to be, within the next candlemark or two, she might well get a pretty good idea of it.

[agriasnesme]

J'tan smiled as he retrieved his own hand after the shake was over, listening to her and shaking his head softly at the end. "So you're a courier, then? And that's not what Lecarth meant by smell."

Seawater's fun to bathe in. Tastes bad, though, and it stings my nose.

"See?" J'tan shook his head at his dragon's antics before waving at his fire lizards, laughing a little as the two bronzes seemed to have ganged up on poor Ferret in a wheeling chase gone crazy. He looked back at Akantral, canting his head curiously.

"I hope two things. The first, that you either you don't have a runner nearby, or if you do, that you're not overly fond of it. The second...I hope you don't enjoy your job too much."

He smirked to himself as the girl's head canted to answer before he cut her off quite handily, expecting her to ask the obvious 'Why?'.

"Because you've just been Searched."

She smells really nice. Can she scrub that patch behind my foreleg? You never do it right.

[Briarwind]

Akantral opened her mouth to answer, then stopped short, irritation spiking at the way the rider cut her off. A scowl lit across her features, and for a moment after his declaration, she said nothing, processing his words.

Searched. She was to be a candidate, then? And by what right did he force this decision on her? Nevermind that, had he simply offered, she would likely have agreed to come stand, when the hatching rolled around - he'd ordered. She took orders from her employers. She tolerated orders from those she had no choice but to tolerate orders from. She welcomed orders from none, least of all from presumptuous dragonmen who told her that she was to abandon everything she'd worked for to stand for something she wasn't even sure she wanted. Oh, she would remember this.

All of this, however, stayed behind her teeth, her irritation marked only by her scowl and the stiffening of her spine. Anyone who knew Haldis well would likely read the depth of her displeasure in him when he stopped his sport to wing over and watch, and perhaps that would betray her, but she knew better than to say all of that. After a moment, she schooled her features to neutrality and calm, canting her head to inquire, "And what does that require of me?"

She had no intention of risking the life she'd built for herself over this. Most candidates spent their time at the Weyr chasing a pipedream. She had no intention of joining the ranks of the failed and losing her place over the whims of a dragon, however charming.

[agriasnesme]

Uh-oh. He'd ticked her off. He should have kept his deadglow mouth shut for a few more seconds, perhaps, but the set of her jaw indicated that she was pissed. He tried to think of a way to calm her before his dragon took the decision out of his hands.

We'd like you to become a partner to one of the new dragonets. They should hatch soon. You could have a friend like me. Could you please come and scratch my foreleg? Jetmine always scratches it wrong.

J'tan released the breath he'd been holding explosively, glaring at his partner before walking over and scratching just above his dragon's digitigrade knee, sighing softly. "I'm going to have to oil this when we get back to the Weyr. Your hide's starting to patch again," he murmured comfortingly before looking back at the girl.

"When Lecarth says you smell nice, it means he can sense the ability to bond to a dragon within you. I'd like for you to come and Stand at the Hatching, which should happen soon. With the rather delicate treaty we have with the Holds, I can't up and force you to come, but I would appreciate it. We need more candidates, and I'd like for you to be one of them. Who knows? You could bond with one of the two Queens that are almost ready to hatch."

Perhaps he shouldn't have said so much. He knew the Holds regarded the Weyrs as little more than arrogant wherries, for all the intimidation an angry dragon could bestow. They did need the supplies, though, and J'tan had always felt, somewhere deep in his bones, that the situation mirrored the one that Weyrleader at Eastern faced almost two-hundred and fifty Turns ago. He hoped to the stars that he was wrong, but somehow he knew he wasn't.

The Holds would be falling over themselves to tithe to Bivium if Thread began to fall once again. J'tan grit his teeth together and looked at the girl, resolved that he would take her back to the Weyr, no matter his rather poor showing at diplomacy today.

"Please, Akantral. The Weyr needs you, and I'd appreciate it if you'd come."

And I'd appreciate it if you'd fix what he's doing wrong. Please scratch my foreleg?[/b][/color]

[Briarwind]

Akantral's temper was by no means sated, but by this then, it had, at least, cooled and been checked, and she was thinking, now, with a cold, crisp logic that was intimately familiar to her.

"You," she told Lecarth, by way of filling a few moments so that she could think, "are just as bad as Haldis. Worse, because there's more of you to scratch." Taking a few steps up to the dragon's side, she reached up to scratch near one of the dry patches, grateful for the practice she'd had in finding them with Haldis. There really were a lot of similarities between the two, now she saw the dragon up close properly.

As she scratched, she thought swiftly. She knew what would become of her custom at the Collegium of the Mastercoggler ever heard of her acting as a candidate, and it was a loss she could ill afford. At the same time, however, she'd never held with his views that dragonmen were worthless. His craft was impressive, but she had yet to see quite how it was to do the job of dragonmen, and she had always believed in what she could see and touch far more than she did in empty promises. She knew very little of the Weyr or its ways, but she knew well enough that it was assuredly real, and that within a few turns, it would be very real (and likely very dangerous) work. Work didn't frighten her. Truth told, she preferred it. Could she be happy as a dragonrider? Perhaps. Her previous thoughts of how she would go mad with another voice in her mind rose up once more, but she dismissed them out of hand. It wasn't as though she had ever been terribly sane to begin with, after all.

And if she didn't impress? She couldn't be gone from her courier work for as long as she'd likely have to be if she left now and still have work waiting for her when she came back. She simply couldn't. Did she dare risk that? She had nothing to fall back on, if she lost what she had. None of her kin were here, if any of them could even be bothered to take her in, and she hadn't any marriage prospects, even if she'd a desire for such a thing - an idea she was very much on the fence about, anyhow. She couldn't apprentice out, even if she could get the Collegium to accept her after standing as a candidate. She was too old for that. No; it was altogether too risky to give it all up.

After a moment, she turned her head to face J'tan. "A compromise," she offered. "Tell me when the hatching is too near and I have to be at the Weyr. I'll come, then. I cannot be away from my custom for as long as it's likely to be, otherwise, and still have a home to come back to if I fail."

[agriasnesme]

J'tan winced. What she was proposing was, to him, unheard of. You were Searched, you stayed at the Weyr until the Hatching, you Impressed, or you didn't. If you didn't, your options were die on the sands, or go wait in the Weyr until the next Hatching, unless you aged out. He sighed, and nodded, however.

It wasn't like he could order her to listen to him, anyway, not with the Holds and the Crafthalls in their current mood. He shrugged quietly.

"I can't force you to come, so if that's the best I can get, then I'll come. I warn you, though; we won't have but maybe an hour to find you. I'll have to come and get you for the touching before the Hatching, though; we should be doing that this sevenday."

And damned if he didn't; he had six candidates already living at the Weyr that he'd found personally, and he was taking them all for a touching with the eggs before the sevenday was out, or his name wasn't J'tan!

But your name is your name, Jetmine. And I like that plan. It means I don't have to eat a runner today. I'm full. And we should keep the nice girl. She scratches better than you do.[/b]

With a roll of his eyes, J'tan redoubled his efforts to help Akantral scratch his partner before he nagged them to death about his dry patches, smiling softly at the girl. "Where can we find you, Akantral, when it comes time to bring you in?"

J'tan tuned his ears for her reply, even as his partner crooned in delight. Ferret and Hunter, however, had grown tired and settled themselves about Akantral's person, the bronze curling around her neck and the brown clinging to her sleeve, wrapping his tail around her elbow.

That looks like fun. Can I do that, too, Jetmine?[/b]

J'tan really, really wanted to strangle the big bronze right then.[/color]

[Briarwind]

Akantral contemplated Hunter briefly. "If you don't move before he decides he wants his perch back," she told the firelizard, "Haldis is going to eat your face." She expected he'd listen about as well as Haldis would, which was, of course, to say not at all, but at least he was warned.

To J'tan, she replied, "I can give you a sevenday. You can tell when a clutch is within a sevenday of hatching, can't you? I heard it from one of the gamblers at the Collegium that you can - he was saying something about betting ending then. When they get to that point, then send one of these two for me. I'll make my way. I've been to the Weyr before, for the construction project. I know the way."

Pausing, she added thoughtfully, "You could come yourself, if you wished to, I suppose, but it'd probably be easier all around if I just came to you. The touching ... you said within the sevenday?"

[agriasnesme]

J'tan nodded quietly. "We can tell within a sevenday when a Hatching will occur...give or take a couple of days. Sometimes they like to say they're not ready yet, and then they'll pop on us early." He looked at Akantral beneath Lecarth's flank, smiling.

"And yes, the touching will be before the end of the sevenday, likely five days from now on the spot. I want the candidates and the eggs to know one another before they're ready."

He stroked and patted Lecarth's flank as the dragon crooned in delight. "And you asked me a question earlier that I failed to answer; M'tak is the other Wingleader at the Weyr, opposite myself."

He's not very nice. I don't like him. He calls himself efficient. His dragon's big, but I'm stronger. M'tak can't compare to Jetmine. Jetmine is Jetmine. M'tak is dung.[/b]

J'tan shook his head softly, grinning at his dragon's antics once more as he gave his flank a final scratching-over.[/color]