The Cold [Cath]

"Hello," Lex answered, grinning at her resilience. Trust Saia not to fall into the trap of self-disgust the Candidatemaster had warned them would exist upon failing to Impress. Lexony had not been despairing himself, but his cheer was never so accessible as the Weaver girl's. Just a glimpse of her artificially bright hair was enough to coax out a smile. He continued handing off towels and small blankets till there was nothing left, not even for him. The others had all either returned or secreted themselves off elsewhere.

That had to be a curious escapade to endure in only the sweat-stained white robes of Standing. "I did not hear that. I saw lots of dragonriders heading for the Dining Hall just now-- I suppose they'll demand food for their nerves, even if it's not a full-fledged feast," he guessed with a chuckle. "I forgot about the Gather..." Not exactly true, but he had certainly shoved the celebration far away to the back of his brain for the course of the Hatching. "I guess I'll have to go. I haven't been-- well, there was only one where I wasn't on-duty at Fort. And that time I was still working, so to speak." He sniffed at the cold snap of air breaking in the doorless entryway, arms folding back around his chest.

True too was the Candidatemasters' notice that many people did not Impress the first time. Aside from a required level of concern for his son, Lexony did not mind waiting. "I will have to go," he reiterated, confirming the necessity to himself. Not that he had the Marks for the full benefit; he did not need Marks to talk or listen, or dance, though it was always-- "Even if it's on the ferry," he said, amputating his own line of thought. "I did not know any of us could call in favors from riders." Not for many Turns would he have believed that even a Weyrling would waste time on the dragonless. "You have some interesting trade partners," he added, brown eyes filling in a smile where his lips did not curl.

He realized he was almost huddling where he stood to keep out the cold and threw his shoulders back, shivering proudly as he looked to the assignment slate. "Listen, we're both on stable duty this afternoon," he said with the requisite level of hesitation. "Stable duty" was just the politest possible term for this particular chore. "Maybe we should get cleaned up and grab whatever the riders leave behind at the Hall before we go." The thought of absconding from an afternoon's chores just due to the passage of a Hatching was beyond a man like Lex. In fact stable duty would play the perfect reminder of their continued Candidate status. "What do you think? Sound good?"

"I can't turn it down with that kind of endorsement," Lex agreed, a statement of more than mere amicability. Saia's enthusiasm was contagious, and put warmth in his bones even before she wrapped the blanket around him. The blond grinned, pulling in the fabric before its residual heat was lost. The look softened when Saia finally joined with a smile of her own. "I have heard of him. I don't know that there is anybody who hasn't. He's uh..."

There the Candidate paused, smile shrinking, dark eyes shifting away from Saia's face in covert thought. "Well, famous," was all the Fort native would say. Famous for the simple act of bonding to the wrong beast. "I suppose it is silly to assume we know all there is to know about dragons..." Lexony's voice was teetering toward discomfort, even if he smiled more to make up for it. "The mystery is part of the charm." He shook his head, then lifted his chin to Saia. "You know him better than I." So if she felt the Weyrling was good for a ferry, then Lexony would not wish her anything but joy.

He watched her go, then checked outside for any more incoming Candidates before he shuffled off on cold-stiffened legs to his room. He made the wise decision to bring new clothes straight into the baths, so he would not have to cross the hall in any state of shivering undress. When he reemerged into the commons he had his brown dayclothes-- and both the trousers and the shirt managed to be literally the same shade --stuffed under a patchy leather jacket, a woolen cap, some rather infamous mittens stamped with kittens on the palms, and woefully short boots considering their chore for the afternoon. The boots had already been well-battered with use, and there were a few persistent black stains on the edges of the mittens from way back during the fire clean-up. The char was no longer actively grimy or smelly-- Lex just did not have the talent his wife possessed in accurately lining up the right cleaning compound to keep the marks from settling into the fiber.

When Saia joined him, he headed outside, rubbing the embroidered cats together, sighing relief at his new clothing's resistance to the cold. A few dragons were still winging out of the Sands, bathing the Candidates' heads in the frigid wind off their downbeats. They were beautiful, he thought, just for their color. Winter muted every sight but that of dragon hide. The enormous queen, departing late after spending the end of the Hatching sulking on her dud's account, moved out like a trail of liquid metal through a Smith's forge. She once again appeared more distant and mythical than she was, the intimacy of the Hatching broken.

Their path necessarily crossed behind the Weyrling Barracks, and Lex was sure he could not be the only one that gawked hopefully for a glimpse of the newly Impressed. Most likely the newborns and their bondeds were taking a well-deserved afternoon of rest already, and would not be out frolicking for greedy Candidate eyes any time soon. "Did you want one before you came here? A dragon?" Lexony walked watching the sky. "I always wondered if people wished for them more when they wouldn't actually have to fight Thread." He looked to the other failed Candidate. "Though since it's a little kid's dream, perhaps those kinds of details end up negligible."

"You love fire...?" Growing up in a series of closed spaces, Lexony had never been a big fan of fire. He had never seen an infernal massacre till the day he arrived at the Weyr, but the wariness for light that was warm or some color other than green or blue had been fixed into him. He supposed it was different outside, in the sky, where dragon-flames flowed far to protect Pern.

He abandoned his own line of questioning as Saia squealed her distraction. Lex stopped where he was obligingly, glancing toward the barracks to see if the other Candidate's piercing noise had attracted any malcontent. Saia was busy pawing over his hands, so he had a few moments to observe the partway-shuttered entry where the Hatchlings and new riders rested and...did whatever they did to bond. He had heard some rumors-- but as they had been about Fort, the oldest and noblest of Weyrs, he had crushed them with all the authority of his guardianship. It had been part of keeping the peace.

And the stories were just too ridiculous. Dragonriders were good people. Or rather, now that he had met some Candidates-turned-Weyrlings, he could say dragons chose good people. His eyebrows twitched together, and there was a moment where he considered not the absence of a dragon at his side, but the absence of other things. Then he smiled at Saia through a sigh. "Thank you," he chirped. "I mean, my wife would be glad to know you liked them. She knew my secret wish was to be cute." He looked down with appreciative concern at the black char mashed into the mitten threads. "I used them," he offered. "At the time I was not too concerned for my own things, just the continued warmth of my fingers." He tried out a grin on her; he could not yet determine if Saia was more angry than excited.