And It Was All Yellow. {Ruin}

Sebolaren had no intention of being at the lake today, not when there was still so much work to be done—everything was work. The Weyr had barely recovered and finished the rebuild from the fire before Thread was upon their threshold. At least it would be pushed back by the cold months, so they were told; the ex-Herder wouldn’t believe it until he saw it for himself, but until then he wanted to work. Work more, and then work even more. Unfortunately there were still daily occurrences outside of work that stole away his attentions, such as eating, and on one such occasion of eating today Daymar had found him with a strange request. Apparently the Candidate had lost his Why. Why had he lost his Why? Sebolaren did not know. He wasn’t even certain you could lose a pillie what with the creatures being bugs, however he wasn’t going to argue when the boy seemed so distressed.

So here he was, at the lake, looking for—of all things—a pillie, and quietly grumbling to himself as Sigard offered happy little chirps into his ear as encouragement. They would find the muddy-coloured bug and then everything would be fine, he would see! Perhaps if he’d been more of a free spirit like his blood-brother, and less likely to work himself to death, he’d have found this a suitable distraction: Unfortunately it was just a nuisance. Still, he appreciated Daymar as a man, a room-mate, and future Dragonrider, and a friend; help is on the way, dear Why! Finding the creature proved less difficult that Sebol had expected; when the ex-Herder drew closer to the placid lake which reflected back a cloudless late-turning sky, the Brown pillie appeared from the depths as if summoned.

Perhaps he thought he’d be fed, or taken to his Daymar, or that Sigard had come to play. Although that proved somewhat less likely as the pillie took one look at him and then promptly began to ignore him. Sigard was quick to fly out and try to roll the bug to shore, but that only caused his wings to foil sinking his sea-blue body into the water beneath the bug. With a sigh, Sebol realized this was going to take time—which he didn’t have—and resources—which he also didn’t have—because there wasn’t any way he was diving into this lake for something as silly as an aquatic bug. It was only then, once he was basically fed up and ready to wash his hands of the whole mess, that he realized he was standing beside a girl—one who seemed mostly consumed with the work on her knee.

Offering her a smile, though not much else, his attention returned to the chaos in the lake as Sigard continued to try in vain to lift the ever-growing bug out of the water using only his own power. Perhaps if Avsiran showed up they’d be able to tandem lift him: Stars above knew the two had carried heavier things than a pillie, though to be honest he hadn’t lifted one of Daymar’s up recently enough to know their weight himself. Ah well. No harm in standing here…doing nothing…while everyone else worked…right? He couldn’t exactly leave—Daymar would never come down to fetch his own bug having been quite convinced that more would crawl out and latch onto him the moment he neared the water: Surprisingly he blamed this on Xiro’el more than on the creatures themselves. Which, Sebol would tell you, was just fantastic.

”Hello,” Sebol replied quietly, his eyes still lost in frustration on the flailing forms in the water; for all that it seemed hopeless, the Blue did appear to be making some headway. ”That will not be necessary, and if his sister is there she’s likely to take your toes off for the attempt.” At the formal introduction his attention did waver from the flailing pair in the lake, his body turning automatically to take her wrist in his large hand and seal the welcome in the way he had been taught. ”Sebolaren, Candidate also, and yet another reason you should not go into the winter water: Even the slightest chill could keep you from standing lest the dragonets find you as easy prey.”

Those broody sea-grey eyes caught on the shifting form of the Black firelizard that scrabbled his way out of the girl’s bag and was helped up to his perch. Reminded of Sigard and Avsiran he felt himself soften—perhaps he was still forged by the fire that had seared the Weyr; if he was, he rarely noticed, but it was a consideration at this very moment. Still, he had meant the words he had spoken. A ruckus over the lake drew his gaze back to its centre and where another Blue—dark like the deep waters—had joined the lighter brother. Ah, so Avsiran had come to help; likely if Starfall was around he would die. That would add another layer of fantastic to this entire mess.

However with both of the brothers working in tandem to push and flap their way across the wing-shattered water, it seemed they were in fact getting the brown creature closer to the shore. ”It is a pillie,” came the belated reply. ”An aquatic bug that lives in the Western waters. They bond to humans—that one is bonded to my room-mate, and I have been sent to find him and herd him back to his owner.” Little would the girl know he had been sent not because of his amazing bug-wrangling credentials, but because his room-mate was a terrified wherry. Unfortunate.

”No,” he breathed the word through a chuckle, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. ”Try though she has; I have not lost a toe to her yet.” Boots, yes, toes—no. Thankfully: Or not so thankfully. The girl seemed rather talkative—seemed hardly covered it as she carried on determinedly with a frank cheerfulness. ”That’ll likely serve you well at the hatching; which I am excited for, yes. This will be my second time standing at Dalibor. Have you only recently arrived?”

As for drawing the pillie, well, she was welcome to try once the sharding creature was on shore and moving in the correct direction—which Why never did actually accomplish on his own. The Brown obviously lacked any sort of directional senses: It was a wonder he found the lake every day and didn’t starve to death or dry out. Even as he watched, the twins were angling the creature closer to the bank—hopefully he’d be safely on dry land soon and they could carry on.

”He isn’t as fast as his sister, though that’s probably due to his laziness—or lacking mental faculties, but you are welcome to sketch the mess of them writhing around. I must escort him back once he’s out, but you’re welcome to come along.” Hopefully she wouldn’t trip and break something attempting to draw and walk; he’d certainly catch some unhappy glances from Delilah for letting such a thing happen. Looking to the girl again he offered her another warm smile. ”I’ll cheer for you as well, Raksha.”

While she spoke, he listened; occasionally he offered an affirmative nod, grunt, or smile, but he was far too happy being silent to join in past what needed saying—and she seemed to not notice, or care. As always, Sebol appreciated a person who could carry the conversation. It wasn’t that he hated talking, or socializing, he was just a man of few words. That was how he had been raised—if it didn’t need saying, best not to say it; very few people could coax him into a speech that was truly loose, and he wasn’t even certain if any of them existed at Dalibor.

When she was forced to silence by her drawing tool, he did not find her silly; taking a moment to study her quietly, his attentions returned to the lake while she set herself to rights. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t used his mouth to hold riding straps or ropes in the stable—at least she had the wits to do it instead of simply dropping things. ”Plenty of adventures to be had here,” he replied with a smile, and it was true—though many would be had without him most likely, unless the crazed Weyrlings he called friends—or certain Candidates—dragged him off.

Although he was given freedom to speak while she sketched, he did not, instead looking down at the page as she worked. It had been a long time since he’d placed stick to paper—even longer than that long ago painting session with Q’sis. Felt like a distant memory, those days spent sketching the runners while on watch. A different person might have mentioned that commonality, but he did not—perhaps another time, another life. His hands still felt the distant sting of fire, and he felt no urge to divulge his secrets. "Perhaps."

”It is the bond of personality that matters, not of hide. I would not discriminate against the colour of his flesh no more than he would discriminate against mine—or she.” Nor would his dragon discriminate against his markings, at least he wanted to believe that. In light of all else, it was the match that mattered. Could he ride a King and rise to leadership? Of course, that was part of who he was, but he would serve his Weyr no less on a Black. He could Search with his Blue, or teach with his Brown, or any of the other possibilities. ”I would simply be honored to Impress, we can work out what comes after once that occurs.” Sebol smiled brightly at her, hopefully she’d Impress a dragon that would talk back.

”I agree with you.” Prith was so calm and intelligent, and Tigreath was so crazed and wild, but he had met protective quiet Cyans, and hyperactive chatty Greens. It was all in the match. That was what he looked forward to the most. Who would be his that would compliment his life; fall into him like a pair that had been destined—written as if foretold in Harper’s tales. Grey eyes flickered back to the mess of blue wings and brown carapace as the twins finally managed to get Why to shore. Once there he immediately attempted to trundle back into the water, but was hastily pushed away by Avsiran. Sigard, ever helpful, decided to ride upon his back and flap his wings mightily.

If only Why hadn’t become quite so fat—or large, rather. Together the twins could have lifted him, but they were in no mood for that apparently, and instead the trio of pets set off in a haphazard senseless path mostly determined by Why. Which was typical. Waving off her reassurance he flashed her a brighter grin, ”Daymar is a special man, and not taken to people, that is why I make no promises. That and he’s likely to be hiding in the male-side of the Barracks.” Always a chance he’d meet them in the common room, but how long he’d stay there was another thing—especially with how talkative the woman was. Probably terrify the boy out of his mind.