Touch-a Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me [Ghris' Touching]

The tune echoing from within the Sands as Ghris entered quickly drowned out his own simpler childish inner monologue. He almost wished the queenrider hadn't stopped, if only because it meant he didn't have to face the situation so directly and it also reminded him there are much worse things in the world than the niceities of touching dragon eggs. In fact, it gave him goosebumps in and of itself...as if perhaps the singer knew more of its subject matter than he might care to. Q'sis, on the whole, was a fairly imposing and intimidating figure altogether...clearly well toned, his body made for a good scrap and battered over the course of his life; he had clearly experienced a vast sea of things Ghris had not, and probably will never, come close to knowing for himself. He suddenly felt very small.

But the plucking of the queenrider's thick fingers as he fashioned some sort of pearly white embroidered explosion over a fine black belt caught the Candidate's attention soon after. His eyes took in the funny little sewn figures on it briefly once it was tossed up to the next tier of benches but this also brought the Candidate's attention to the swirling eyes of the darker dragon staring quite steadily at him from behind Q'sis. He stiffened, ducking down behind his own hair it would seem - dragons were confounding emotionally complex creatures and they intimidated him thoroughly, perhaps altogether more than the worldly rider connected to one of them. He wanted to apologize, nearly.

But the glint of the golden hilt jauntily carried at Q'sis hip seems to shake him out of it, or at least turn his attention back to the Queenrider at hand, peering up at him sullenly though dark curls. He hardly has the culture enough to know its from Igen. For all his travelling he made a stupendous effort to keep to himself on the whole, but it didn't always work. Nonetheless, it is a very pretty item and almost looks out of place on Q'sis for some reason - perhaps the gaudiness, despite being old, contrasted on the geometric shapes of the rugged shirtless rider, who appeared very tired and very...worn. Ghris couldn't imagine being a mother was easy - but being mentally connected to a mother when you're a ...father? is something else entirely.

But he gave Q'sis a smile in exchange for a smile as he was approached, albeit a lopsided nervous sort, and followed him like a shadow down onto the Sands. A knot held tight in his chest the closer they made off towards the dragons, that remaining urge to turn round on his heel and escape pushing at his ribs. But he tampered it with a hard swallow, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides as he watched the great tan Unath turn that large egg so easily in her hands. He really hoped he smelled nice. Or at least smelled harmless. This excursion, he knew, was not a regular occurance - highly unusual - and so in a sincere effort to keep everything going nice and smoothly he stood stiff. And silent. And weird, probably.

"My name's Ghris...uhm, sir." he replied, trying in earnest not to mumble...and failing a bit, "And I'm 19...from Ista Weyr, originally. Then Winter Hold." It isn't as if Q'sis asked for that information, but it comes out in a rush anyway as he bends down, arm outstretched.

His hand met egg, hesitant at first and then fingers spread over the surface gently. The egg was warm and smooth, and his palm rode over the surface slowly. There's life in there, no doubt about it, and this seemed to relax the Candidate as his shoulders visibly slumped. His gaze softened as he seemed to be lost in thought, memories of his herd traveled through his mind as they too, gave birth to young fresh blood. There was nothing more fascinating and wondrous to the simple Herder than a youngling that had first tottered unsteadily up onto ungainly, new legs and taken its first stuttering, tripping steps towards its mother. He had worked hard to ensure the life of his animals and the one underneath his hand was suddenly no different. Whether or not this egg was destined for him or another, they were suddenly all the same.

Drawn from his reverie, Ghris' brown eyes met those of Q'sis as he tilted his head towards him. His brows crumpled in confusion momentarily before shaking his head, "I was raised by my father in Ista," he murmured in reply, distractedly, "Only my mother was a rider." if Q'sis was intending another meaning it clearly sailed right over Ghris' fretful, strange little head.

The brown eyes that rose to meet Q'sis at the correction were wide and curious. The edges of Ghris' lips twisted into a half-smile, "My Lord," he repeated, slowly, and then tilted his head, shaggy curls falling to the side. "I was raised by my father, a Herder. And my mother was a Rider." he repeated, as if to clarify, politely enough to the man's interesting description of his family dynamic; his eyes glanced around the eggs and one eyebrow arched at the queenrider questioningly, but he didn't challenge Q'sis, no, he hasn't the spirit...or the wit. He seemed to understand he is not quite regular on top of this, and the nagging doubt that he is unworthy of all this always pulls at the back of his mind.

As Q'sis stood and placed his hand on the largest red, the boy instead moved towards a very small, perhaps the smallest, black egg and cupped his fingers around it. Careful not to move the egg itself, his thumbs slid over the surface, the warmth of it radiating through his cold, clammy palms. "I wonder what this one will be." he replied in exchange, "If those are to be bronzes. Maybe this one will surprise you."

He then glanced over his shoulder at the rider curiously at the mention of Day'ar. "I'll...go and see about him, thank you for the suggestion." he was pretty twitchy. He just can't help it, it seems, and he studied the glistening ink black egg under his fingers steadily...embarrassment washing over him; he wished that Q'sis observations were not so acute and that he had a scarf to hide the pink blush risen to his cheeks.

His inner turmoil was quickly overthrown by the sensation of presence and warm air - Unath's mighty head greeted him and the Candidate stiffened again, his own tongue mimicking the mighty dragons' in order to quickly moisten dry, nervous lips. The bright blue tongue was a curious feature, and that maw was quite enormous. As the eggshell pipped he blinked, looked down as Unath did, and then right back up at her. His hands withdrew from the shell, hoping he hadn't interrupted the extremely timely turning process that seemed to be occurring. He wiggled away from the egg reluctantly, too, as if to assure the tan that...well, something? Her expression was inscrutable.

He turned again as Q'sis addressed him, the tone of his questioning caused him to fidget uncomfortably, hands on his knees now. Surely he wasn't that strange? "My father took me on as his Apprentice himself." he replied neatly, although he expected the answer wouldn't be satisfactory, "Until I was experienced enough to strike out on my own with my own animals as a journeyman. I left Ista for no abnormality...although I have many," the boy admits sullenly,"But because I imagined the animals might flourish under a more temperate climate....anyway, one needs to be self sufficent eventually. I needed to know I could." he paused, almost ready to add: I'd stop being myself if I could...but one can't reason away that irrational thread of doubt and fear that plagues him. If the worst can go wrong, it will. "At any rate I travelled until I reached Western Hold. The Plague came shortly after and I stopped moving - it seemed wise to stop anyway and build the herd I had going. I was going to recieve instruction from a Master Herder there until ...well, I was Searched." the latter part is said in a tone that only manages slightly to avoid sounding dour, "I don't remember her name, but it was a rider on a blue. I was...a little preoccupied at the time."

His hand stretched towards another nearby bright, rich blue egg to sweep his fingers over it. "How do you find being a Rider?" he asks after a moment, "It seems to suit you nicely," he seems to be stubbornly sticking to being mild and well mannered despite the obvious jabs thrown his way, "What was your preoccupation before your dragon? Have you always lived in Dalibor?"

Ghris was, indeed, probably only accepted as a Crafter by his father. He would have floundered in a stranger's care, especially if that Master was militant about his work. Not that his father didn't have high expectations, but clearly Ghris was treated with a kind of kid gloves that permitted his type of avoidant, nervous character to continue. But it also made him highly attuned towards his animals - his constant vigilance over their health and livelihood and his energetic focus on keeping them warm and fed, leading them over the correct routes...it took all his energy and focus. He now dumps most of this energy into working himself into knots over how he's perceived by others and if he's doing all these new activities correctly. And his chores...especially the early ones. It gives his roommate Hakotep headaches some mornings when he's fussing around so early, most likely...or at least, that's what Ghris supposed!

As Unath easily pursued him simply with her head alone, he realized it was futile to continue wiggling away from her and so he instead settled on his knees and kept an eye on her, head ducked slightly.

But then, for once, the boy looked up with interest at Q'sis. "You Herded as well?" he queried, doubtful curiosity in his tone. For some reason, he never imagined the rider had any similar background to his own...but people easily surprised the candidate. He was about to inquire further but was stopped as Q'sis chastised him. At his error, he blinks once or twice in surprise, and then puts his face in both his hand in complete embarrassment. What did he say? Ugh, you dolt!

"Yes m'lord," the boy mumbled miserably, almost laughing at himself in his tone, "I will do so immediately." he looked up from his hands with a quirked smile and a flushed face, his eyebrows furrowed upwards helplessly, "Did I really say that? I think I can hear my mother thundering over here now to slap me right on my face---well, if she doesn't, the Candidatemaster certainly will." he murmured wryly, with a low sigh out of his nose as the odd smile sunk into that worried, tense look once more. "And rightly so."

Q'sis began talking about himself and moving on from the subject, although his brain seemed utterly triumphant that Ghris had made such an egregious social error and promised to harass him inwardly about it for the rest of today and possibly tomorrow too. At least, it promised to worry him about it for far longer than he ought to worry.

He seemed relieved when Unath distracted the topic with her...tongue. "Ha!" he said, suddenly, as if getting the dragon's comparison, and although he doesn't smile he does seemed surprised at the fact that she's interested in some kind of communication with him. It seems to have abated his fear, if only slightly. "I think I see a lot of you in all these eggs, though, besides matching colors. You're both very beautiful." it may not be true, to Ghris they simply looked like very pretty eggs and Unath simply looked like a /very/ big dragon, but he thought it was a nice thing to say and it was the least he could say to a queen who was letting Candidates paw over her babies.

"Oh!" said Ghris suddenly and he leaned in towards Q'sis at such a revelation. "A /caravan/. You traveled!" it seemed as though his Holdlessness was nothing to the boy, although his mother would find it vile and his father would have wondered about those implications. Ghris only seemed to judge himself, and harshly at that. Its so interesting, in fact, he seems to have calmed quite significantly at Unath's presence...or at least, been distracted from it. "And a Boss of one. That---well, that makes sense." the rider clearly leads and does not follow, the following of ones family an exception. One is often called to follow ones family despite how they might behave with those who aren't tied by blood. He'd be full of questions if he didn't think he'd wear out his welcome. "I bet you've seen a lot." is all he asserted, leaving the choice of persuance up to Q'sis.

At the latter half of his description of himself Ghris dared not make a comment, he simply smiled at the rider. The situation itself was...unusual, to say the least, so the Candidate seemed to readily accept this as a possibility, if a biased one. The rider certainly had the appearance and personality to lend itself to this idea, but Ghris supposed that if it happened once, there was the minuscule odds it could happen again, whatever had brought this queenrider scenario to be.

At the "joke", however, Ghris laughed a little, a light, breathy sort of thing, his brows crumpled mildly in concern. "Yes, ah. Lucky, for me. Well, us, the Candidates. Do you think it'll make anything different?"

At the rider's question, he looked at Unath and rubbed his palms together for a moment. "I think she deserves respect." came the slow reply. "Sometimes that involves a good amount of fear."