Zero Tolerance (CANDIDATE LESSON)

[Cathaline]

Recent revelations from a certain bluerider, not to mention the word from the weyrlingmasters, had been...unsettling, to say the least, for the Candidatemasters. Jazz was no more pleased than the other two, and after much consultation, they made their decision. Now she had to carry it out.

She ordered the candidates into the hatching sands, bare now - dragon and wher alike, early in the morning, just after breakfast. The wher candidates would be tired, but there weren't many of them, and she was mostly concerned about the dragon candidates anyway. Once they were all seated in the stands, she gestured to the vast expanse of the heated sands below.

"You want to stand for dragons or whers?" she said, her voice unusually sharp. "You want a life partner, a soulmate, who will understand you as nobody else ever could? You want to protect the Weyr, the Holds, Pern itself from Thread and other dangers? Then hear me now, internalize what I'm about to tell you, and obey me utterly.

"I am not addressing any one person here. We have had several recent violations of one of our more serious rules. Minor violations - most of them. They haven't ended in tragedy. But they could, and that is why we must now institute an absolute zero tolerance policy on Candidate romance and sex."

Jazz sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I try to be understanding," she said. "Believe it or not, old as I am, I remember being your age. You think the most important thing in the world is that the boy or girl you like, likes you back, right? You want to have a little fun, or you want to experience sex before you have to think about flights, or you're deeply in love. I get it.

"Here's the thing. A baby dragon or wher? They don't have the capacity to understand it. They'll try, for you. Some of them are natural flirts, some of them are natural romantics. But they are children, and they will be in your care. This is why sex is a no-go. It's abusive and it's dangerous - a dragonet can between or a wher can go wild because they are overwhelmed by sensations and emotions they are not mature enough to cope with. They can also die or abandon you just because you're in love. Because you're their life, their world, and if you love somebody, and you want to spend time with that somebody, and they start thinking you don't care about them as much? You end up as a shell of a person, with nobody but yourself to blame.

"People are risking their dragonets," Jazz said, after taking a moment to let this sink in. "And as a result, all of you are going to suffer, because that is done. No flirting. No hand-holding. No stolen kisses, and especially no sex. I see even a hint of Candidate romance, and you're punished. Severely. I see a hint of any of that between you and a rider, or, Faranth forbid, a weyrling, and you're out on your ear before you can say sorry. By the way, if a rider or weyrling or handler is coming on to you, tell us. Immediately. They have no right to flirt with you. You've been told all your lives that dragonriders are to be idolised and respected, and they are - right up until the minute they infringe on your ability to be a good rider someday. If somebody's harassing you, we need to know it. That's why I say flirt back and you're done. Come and tell me about it, I'll believe you, you won't be in trouble. Get caught by somebody else, it's going to be a lot harder for me to believe you deserve a second chance.

"You're allowed to have crushes. You are not allowed to act on them, not even in the sweetest and most chaste of ways. Once you get your dragon or your wher, they are your life and any relationship you have, be it a friend or a sibling or a mentor, is put on hold. When you are a weyrling, your world is your bonded, your Weyrlingmaster, and your professional bonds within your class. Your pets? Not important. Nothing is important except your dragon and your training, and the more leeway you are given to form attachments as Candidates, the more trouble you'll borrow later."

Jazz eyed them all up, measuring which ones might be trouble later, and then sighed. "Your lives are not your own," she said bluntly. "You belong to us. You belong to the Weyr. You are in training for the most important job on Pern and celibacy, absolute physical and emotional celibacy, is a requirement until the day you graduate from weyrlinghood. Do not sneak around. We have flits and we have friends with flits; you can never be sure you're alone, so don't risk it. If you would risk your candidacy for a roll in the hay or a lover, you don't deserve to be a candidate and you should walk away right now. If you cannot control yourself, then you are not rider material, whatever the searchdragons might have said - and I do not say that lightly. Consider any past indiscretions erased, but from this moment forward, obey the rule or you will never walk onto these sands or any others, because we will communicate with other Weyrs. If you are already in a relationship - and I don't care if it's the first blush of adolescent romance or if you're a married fifty-year-old wher candidate, by the way - it is on hold. You owe it to yourselves, to your partners, and to your future dragons and whers."

After a moment, she said, "By the way - we are actively looking, right now, for someone we can make an example of. Don't be the one we find. If you need to talk about these or any other matters, my door is always open. If you need to complain about how unfair we're being, just keep your sharding clothes on and we won't have an issue. I know it's tough, I know most of you think I'm being mean for no reason right now, but dragons die and weyrlings are emotionally crippled for life when these rules are broken. If you know a friend who's been lucky enough to get away with it - good for them, but you still shouldn't want to be Dalibor's first example of what happens when it goes wrong. Recklessness is not a trait we encourage in candidates or in weyrlings. So stay on the straight and narrow and we won't have a problem. You are dismissed, to bed or to chores depending on who you are. Lesson is as scheduled later today."

[lee]

Eithne wasn't entirely happy to be back on the Sands. She supposed, if she wanted to remain a candidate—and she did, she figured—it was something she needed to get over, but it still seemed to her that the hot, baked cavern that felt sticky and heavy compared to the dry, icy air outside, still smelled like dried blood and sickness. That was, of course, ridiculous, and wary of anything that resembled a delusion, Eithne silently made herself take a deep breath through her nose, forcing the scent of clean, hot sand to replace the memory.

She listened without comment (the Candidatemaster's tone did not exactly invite them), with quiet eyes and her hands folded in front of her. It wasn't that she disliked rules or orders inherently. Despite considerable freedom in her life—or perhaps, because of it—she recognized a need for discipline. If you didn't take the time to properly care for the wagon, it lost a wheel. If you shirked your duty to feed and care for the runnerbeasts, they got sick and cost even more time and coin. What she disliked, and prickled against, were demands made without reason. Without logic or explanation, like the little gray wher's infuriating insistence that the candidates adhere to his arbitrary desires for no other reason but that he wanted it so. It tasted far too much like shrill, uneven screeches to dye her hair or be recognized (as who?) to having water smacked from her hands and piercingly decried as poison (had she not drawn it from the stream herself?) with the choking dust of a day on trail still in her throat. So while her neck went cold, then hot and prickly at the yellowrider's opening statement that they obey, and utterly, without yet explaining what or why she waited, in silence until reason was given. And when it was, she considered it heavily.

Love and romance.

It was easy enough to summon up the echoes. The foggy amber eyes filled with tears, wine on his breath and sobs racking his throat as her father spoke about her mother. That was, and Eithne could acknowledge this in her mind though pride kept it from ever passing her lips, insanity. The way the stories changed and shifted with each telling, until Eithne realized they were not romantic as she'd believed on their first, or second, or fifth telling but lies, utter fabrications the man believed with all his heart, fantastical delusions so blindly clung to that they made him look at his daughter and call her another name, shriek in the night and pound his hands against the wagon wheel until it splintered, that turned a quiet, kind, gentle man wild and unrecognizable.

No thank you.

Unconsciously, Eithne's hands tightened, the thumb of her right restlessly rubbing the stretch of webbed skin on the left. Yes, she could see, with crystalline clarity, how that would drive dragonkin between. The only reason her father hadn't left her during one of his spells in the same manner was he hadn't the telepathic capacity to do so. No, Eithne would not have any trouble with this demand, though the courtesy extended to them surprised her. She had assumed, without giving it overmuch thought, that the riders would, unquestionably, be protected in all cases. It shocked her both that the candidates had some standing in the matter--supposedly, anyway, she liked Candidatemaster Jasmine but was still wary yet enough to trust. Words were easy when there was no immediate action required of them—and that a rider would ever consider doing such a thing anyway. That was naive of her, she chided, maybe, but surely someone who would do that wouldn't be chosen in the first place. Some reasonable part of her spoke up that they were human as any. A different part of her told the first part to shove it into shards.

She noticed her thumbs at last and forced them still, and a small frown formed as Jazz spoke of the fire lizards, amiability in the matter abruptly suspended.

She was quite willing to be on board with all of this, but the thought of constantly being watched, spied on like a holdless criminal, made something in her stomach flip and squeeze with a quiver. She supposed the candidatemasters had good reason to do it if they'd been having the trouble they said they were—and that was no one's fault but her peers being silly (she wouldn't say stupid, though she thought it briefly before shushing herself)—but that felt as much of a personal infringement as any advances a rider may make. She felt rather helpless quite all of a sudden, because what could she possibly do in the face of little creatures who could not be kept away by locks or walls? She supposed, after a moment, all she could do about it was be so boringly obedient that they lost interest or felt the need to not watch her, but that, more than anything the woman had said so far, tasted unreasonable and unfounded. Her stare, which until this point had been quietly respectful, went cold and shut off, and all the more because of the immediacy with which they were dismissed at the conclusion. There was no opportunity to ask questions, none to air concerns. She understood the political reasons for doing so—they were presenting this as unquestionable, they needed to carry that through the end. But it made her lips wish to scowl though she held them expressionless, lashes dropping to hide whatever may jump into her eyes and betray her unhappiness with the new development.

Though she was the type to stay and consider things over, she didn't feel obligated to do so after the abruptness that so rankled her, felt no desire to linger on implications when they weren't given a chance to point them out themselves. So without word or further acknowledgement of a word Jasmine said, she left. She was wary of her temper, and while the more logical bit of her--the part that she tried to pay attention to, despite a stubborn nature that tended towards whimsy and emotion—pointed out that the candidatemasters had no other alternatives to ensuring they were obeyed, she still couldn't quite dismiss herself as being entirely unreasonable, so she settled for telling herself to be calm, and compromised.

She had no intentions of hand holding or making herdbeast eyes at anyone any time soon, but she did resolve to chuck whatever was handy at the first fire lizard she found watching her.

[/blockquote]

[Tigersilk]

Annunziata and her little sister Jasjitta listened to the speech their teacher Jasmine gave. Overall it was something they agreed with; baby dragons needed protection from confusing emotional input, and humans could learn to not mate for a Turn or more. Of course, being 12 and 10 respectively, and somewhat stunted when it came to forming relationships (though they were starting to get better at making bonds since arriving at Dalibor), they hadn't had to deal with their hormones like that yet, so they remained unaware of how hard hormones could be to control.

Ziata got up after their dismissal, then sat back down when Jas didn't rise with her. "What's wrong, baby girl?" Ziata asked. Has had become more pensive as the lecture went on, she noticed.

Jas thought for a moment, then "Does the rule against relationships mean we can't see Sister again for Turns?" Their oldest sister, Kahnasunita, had Impressed at the last Hatching, and was now caretaker of a young cyan dragonet. The age where breaking the rules could have the worst possible outcome.

Ziata thought for a moment. "Doubtful. She asked her teacher about us being around Ibith back when she was barely out of her shell. He said we could, as long as we followed his rules about it." Meaning they could not be together like they were back home, with Sunita basically being their mother when the rest of the Hold had all but shunned them. They saw Sister at mealtimes, and saw her dragonet once a day, usually in the evenings. Otherwise, Sunita was to concentrate on stengthening her bond to Ibith, while they were to concentrate on what they needed to learn to become good Riders themselves someday. It was hard loosing their second mother-figure, but they managed to survive it. But to be totally cut off from theirs sister....would be almost too much to bear right now.

"Besides," Ziata continued, "if we were endangering Ibith, we would have been ordered away from her already." The knowledge that the Masters used their flits to spy on their students was not a revelation to them; they knew Sunita's teacher did it himself, and they'd seen his greens at least once when they had visted Ibith. "When we see her later tonight at dinner, we can ask her what she knows about this new rule, and if it's going to change things. 'Sides, we have chores to finish."

The girls got up and left the almost-empty cavern, putting off the questions of whether they were going to be forced to be isolated from their sister until they could see her again. Which wax the best they could do right then.

[RhiaBlack]

Czervon wasn't keen on missing out on sleep. The summons had been hurried, and he had dragged himself from the kitchens - where he had been finishing up the last of a doubled-up chore list - to collapse into a seat on the benches.

It was hotter than he remembered. All the lights were on here, all the glows lit, and it was hot. Even as cold as it was outside, he could feel the sweat roll down his back, across his cheeks, in just the short time he'd been in there. He was hot, he was tired, he was covered in grit, and he was irritated.

His massive frame settled into place, leaned one palm against one knee and peered at Jasmine. Candidatemaster, that one. Audren had mentioned her, said she had control of both Dragon Candidates as well as Wher. He did his best to shape up, forcing himself to sit upright, though there was a marked lapse in his frame on account of exhaustion. He had to be the oldest one here. Great. Just what he wanted to realize. Oldest one here, biggest one here at that, so naturally eyes would gravitate. He squinted towards the smaller woman standing before them.

Czervon's lips thinned into a frown. Stupid children. It only brought him further affirmation that those younger than him within the cavern were - as he'd told Priderunner Der - more concerned with who was rolling in the furs with whom, who was sweet on who, rather than rolling up their sleeves and putting effort into their chores, into their lessons, into their work.

There was a stab of regret. He was too old for Dragons. These sharding kids would be given the capacity to fly; he would be ground-bound the rest of his life. Not only ground-bound, but not able to even see the sunlight unless he stayed up late or got up ridiculously early. He would never sail on a ship again, either. They were so lucky. All of them were so lucky, and there Jasmine was because some of them had screwed up. Some of them had gotten foolish.

Sharding dimglows, all of them.

His lips curled in a sneer, and he shook his head. He would show them how to behave. No personal relationships, no ties. No love. The thought of the word almost made him spit. Love. What a useless, hopeless emotion. Empathy, mushy stuff that only served to get people hurt. Get others hurt. So absolutely pointless, didn't they understand? They were here to -work-. Not make girlfriends or boyfriends, not here to hit on others, not here to find a mate and get espoused. They were here for Dragons, for Whers - some of them - and here they were screwing that up.

Made him glad he wasn't a kid anymore.

The sneer lessened slightly, as Jasmine kept talking. He paid attention, but when it continued to be about recklessness and immaturity, he turned those near-heartless grey-green eyes elsewhere. Part of him worried, somewhere deep down. He remembered Desk, he remembered Der's reaction to him. How the man hadn't been as willing to shake his hand as Czervon hadn't been to even return the offer. How Desk had seemingly pushed him into being social.

He worried that he would get one like that. Some troublesome child-mind that always wanted to get into things, always pushed him into being social with other people beyond the work that they had to do for the Weyr.

Jasmine's words hit home, clarity among his own thoughts, and it was akin to a herdbeast slamming into a glass door. It shattered him, and the sudden jerk of his head up towards where the Candidatemaster lingered almost saw him fall off his bench - had he not been so anchored and leaned forwards, it probably would have.

You belong to us. You belong to the Weyr.

He wasn't sure -why- it hit him so hard. Punched straight to his gut, and then it dawned on him. His freedom. He had no freedom, not until he graduated, and whatever Wher decided he was good enough for them was able and capable of handling him. Just like he would have the knowledge by then to handle it.

But until then, he belonged to the Weyr.
Just like he had belonged to his crew, his ship, his craft.
Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad, after all.

A slow breath, and he pushed himself up off the benches when Jasmine dismissed them. A trip to douse himself down with some sweetsand, and a well deserved rest.

He had a lot to think about, now.

[Kiran]

Milord had been one of the first candidates on the Sands. Never tardy, always on time. Follow the rules exactly. Never be anything less than perfect. Those were mantras he kept close to his heart, buried in his soul. Never anything less than perfect. He was actually rather excited about the candidate lesson since it meant more information on the Weyr and how they did things. He was still working his way into that, slowly but surely. He would make it here. He would Impress the best dragon and show his brother, and be the best rider in the Weyr.

He didn't have another choice.

And as Milord was always was happy to go along with a choice that was so wonderful anyway, he didn't have any issues standing straight at attention and paying the utmost respect to every word that came out of the Candidatemaster's mouth. The yellow rider was adamant about bringing their attention to rule breakers among the candidates. His lips thinned in disapproval, not just over the rule breaking, but over what. What dimglow, what sharding, miserable wherryhead would run their chances at Impressing.... or worse yet, killing... A dragon or wher?! His opinion of Dalinor's candidates fell even further.

If he could have gone back home, he would have. Except even with the sheer idiocy of Dalibor's candidates, the prospect of going back and facing his brother was even worse. At least Milord could shrug this off. He wasn't affected, personally. And less Candidates on the Sands meant that he might have less competition for a dragon, right? Inwardly he knew it didn't work that way, but Milord didn't care. He just wanted a dragon.

And nothing would get in his way of that. There was no person he could ever love, let alone like, enough to risk that. A dragon. His own dragon. Milord could taste the word on his tongue. He would get one. He had waited so long.....

When they were dismissed, he turned on his heel and moved for the exit. On the way he accidentally brushed against a younger boy. "Sorry," he muttered to Quellyn, then headed towards the exit.

Quellyn stood beside two other girls, tilting his head curiously in thought. He had reconciled that he wanted to be a rider, wanted to stand a few more times (maybe, possibly), but was still scared of being on the Sands themselves. Romance didn't factor into any of it. He liked romance stories, and goodness knew that he had helped. Misty with plotting and planning, but he had never considered it with respect to himself. He wasn't sure that there was anything or anyone that he liked. Maybe.

But he would see about getting a dragon first.

Quellyn turned to leave. He would need to talk to Jasmine later, though. About this next hatching....

Hespera had come on time, curious about what could be so important. Usually these lessons were about what to do when the hatching started, or what the expectations were for their chores. This seemed different, more important somehow. She listened to the lecture, a bit confused by things. Why would anyone risk a dragon or being able to Stand for someone else? She could sort off understand, if her brother asked her to not stand she would, but Hespera couldn't quite imagine doing it for anyone else.

Had she even ever been in love with anyone? Hmmm. That was something to think on. Or not. After all, she was a candidate and hadn't Jasmine just said Candidates couldn't be in love? Okay. That was fine with her! Made things easier. And the easier life was, the better. Hespera smiled happily and headed towards the barracks when she was dismissed.

Dione followed quickly on the older girl's heels. She thought this entire lecture was pointless. At least for her. Liking someone? Like, enough to kiss? Eeeew! She would much rather out numbweed in their klah or something like that. Because yeesh. Maybe as they were heading back to the barracks she could pull someone in on her newest plan. It involved some paint and her mother's orange.....

[Rii]

It was another lecture-lesson about discipline.

Sitting to the edge of one row so that she could book it out of there as soon as they were dismissed, Sora cultivated the bland nothingness of expression that she saved for all things public. In truth, she was just barely restraining herself from rolling her eyes in sheer exasperation. This, again? How many times were the people who were on the straight and narrow going to get lectured for the sake of those who weren’t? It was like they wanted to punish the people following the rules just as much as the people who were breaking them.

She knew some people did break the rules on romance. She had eyes, she had ears, and this was a Weyr. People talked. Some of them even talked to her; she remembered Lili confessing her attraction to Seph and all but admitting straight out that they’d been fooling around - alright, not sex, but definitely the kind of minor violations that Jasmine was talking about. At the time, her reply had been if you get caught, I know nothing. She wasn’t a snitch. If the Candidatemasters were so clever and watchful, they’d find out on their own. And if they somehow missed it, it wasn’t her sharding job to be watchful for them.

Lacing her fingers together, she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, lips pressed to where her index fingers crossed. She was the picture of neutral attention, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She had no real interest in romance of her own. She had a hard enough time allowing someone close enough for friendship to develop, let alone taking them to bed or saying she wanted to be with them forever. Jyderin might insist that it would happen, that there would be people who would get inside her guard - which was true, because he’d managed, somehow - but there were layers of being guarded and actually loving someone was currently shelled up to the point that only those from when she was a child with no cares were inside. So. I’m safe from that, at least.

Although it did make her wonder how she could possibly form a bond as deep as everyone said Impression was. Would dragons avoid her entirely for it? Or would one just break right through? Either way, it was a little disconcerting. Sora filed the thought to mull over later, in private.

Your lives are not your own. You belong to us. A subtle change ran through her, likely all but unnoticeable compared to some of those around her. A slight tensing of her muscles, a droop of her eyelids to shade the spark of disgruntlement she felt. I may be a nothing person, I may not count more than a bump in the road, but I am not a -thing- for you to inventory and put on a shelf. She gave them her duty, she gave them her obedience, she even gave them her respect, but that was her choice, a completely willing choice. She chose to follow the rules, she chose to work, and work hard, because it was what she did. And if she ever broke the rules, she would take the punishment, because shard it all, she took responsibility for her choices.

But they were hers, and no one else’s.

No matter what the Candidatemaster or any other authority here could say.

As soon as Jasmine dismissed them, Sora was on her feet, sliding out of the stands to head to her assigned chores for the day. Come talk to me, if you have problems, she says. Not a chance, Candidatemaster. I don’t trust you, not even as much as you trust us. Which given what she’d just said… was not at all. Maybe they haven’t earned yours. But you haven’t earned mine, either. Not after the Hatching. And definitely not now.

[Rappu]

Draolor sat on the front row, Calamity on his shoulder. He was always on time for candidate lessons. He wanted to be a rider, and he wanted to make his parents - all four of them - and Grandma proud, and so he made sure to be always on time for the lessons. It was the one thing he made sure to not fool with, not even when Barahath told him silly jokes like Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off? He's all right now. during lessons and he really wanted to burst into laughter.

As Jasmine began speaking, Draolor really wished he sat anywhere else. He was among the younger candidates and even though he sometimes found himself thinking that the drudge girl at the kitchens, the one with curly black hair, was kind of cute, and just sometimes he thought about saving her in a snowball fight or from the lake or something like that, he wasn't interested in girls. Not really, especially not in the slobbery, embarrassing way. He crossed his arms and hoped he didn't blush too much when he heard Jazz use words like 'sex' and 'romance'. They had had these lectures before, too, and apparently some candidates hadn't listened because it sounded a lot like some of them were doing ...that. Why would they, even? Dragons were much more important than mushy stuff, anyway, and if they really wanted to do that they should wait for the dragons to grow and start flying. Draolor knew about flights and he really didn't look forward to those, either. He had asked M'dag and Ka'mond once, but they hadn't really given him a proper answer. Barahath and Abyrath, for their part, didn't seem to get what he was asking.

Well, at least one thing was clear. Draolor wouldn't be caught in any of that romance or sex stuff before his dragon was an adult. He felt that it probably wouldn't happen even then. The admonishment about pets worried him a little, and Calamity, sensing her bonded's distress, crooned into his ear and licked his cheek, sending him calm feelings. Rocky and Calamity would help him raise a baby dragon. Surely the candidatemasters wouldn't have any problem with that. The baby dragon couldn't get into any trouble if he had extra pairs of eyes looking after him.

[Zane]

Zahir wasn't any good with faces and names of those he hadn't spoken to on numerous occasions, and so the boy sat there attempting to figure out just who the shells and shards Jasmine was. The fact that she'd called many others in suggested that she was an authority of some-sort. Poor Zahir, baffled beyond repair.

As she addressed them very sternly, Zahir wasn't sure that he liked her tone. Her tone said "bad," and Zahir didn't like negativity. She was talking about dragons, and the importance of dragons, and bonds, and all that sort of stuff. The idea of closeness was really making him wish for a good bed partner right about now. Wow, wait, what? No sex? Sex was a no-go? Had this woman ever tried it before? Maybe she'd had a bad first-time. Surely any of the men in this room would be willing to help her out with that. Poor woman. Zahir frowned, pitying her for the anger she was expressing over the matter.

Baby dragons didn't understand sexual relations? Why ever not? Were the people of the Weyr not properly educating them? Well, this was just horrid! No wonder why they'd be called in for an emergency situation, this was very serious, very serious indeed. Zahir crossed his arms over his chest, brows knit together in not-so-deep thought.

"Yes, this is very serious, very serious indeed," he muttered to himself, on an entirely different thought process than the candidate master. Did she truly believe their lives were not their own? Was that because of sex? Perhaps she was struggling with nymphomania. Poor woman, to be detailing her entire life like this, right in front of them. What a brave, brave soul. Zahir stood once she was done, and put his hands together, clapping loudly. "We'll help you!" he shouted out.

Likely it sounded as if he were referring to the case of making an example out of someone. "I'll be your finest example," he smiled. Oh dear, probably not the best thing to admit. Of course, she may have taken that in a positive way...

Why they'd all be called here to listen to the woman explain her personal affairs was beyond him, but he could appreciate the fact that everyone needed a crowd sometimes.

[princesal]

warning: implied abuse

You belong to us.

Otto had been smiles and agreement until that statement was made. Then it was like someone had flung him into cold water, pulled him out, and put him back on the Sands. The smile looked just slightly off, as if somewhere there was a crack, but it was impossible to see where. Or maybe an invisible chip fell off. The strange didn't reach his eyes, they were still dark, and warm, and soft... but the smile, there was just the barest sliver of desperate fear.

He really did agree with avoiding romance, or romantic notions. He could understand why flirting was prohibited too, because flirting could create romantic feelings. Otto didn't know how to flirt, or if he did, it wasn't something he did on purpose. He never broke the rules though, at least not on purpose. All the CandidateMaster's words were just for their benefit. Or that had been what he thought. Until she declared the fact of ownership over them. He didn't know why she would say that, maybe it was to scare them...

It had worked.

When you belonged to people, they made the rules. It didn't matter if you followed them perfectly, they were allowed to change the rules whenever they wanted because the only rule they didn't change was that if you belonged to them, you never won. You were never good enough. You always fell short of the mark. All they wanted was to make sure you knew that you belonged to them. It didn't matter what state you were in, if you could stand on your own feet, or if you needed help with a pair of crutches. You were theirs. Whether you were awake or asleep. If they told you to wake up, you did, or you got punished. Sometimes they'd even tell you to do things that were impossible, because you hadn't gotten anything wrong in a long time, and they needed to remind you who you belonged to.

It hurt. Hearing those words was like a knife to the heart, and it hurt his chest and his head. They were nothing to the weyr, nothing but an object to achieve their end. It wouldn't matter if thread started to fall from the sky and eat at their flesh until there were just beautiful bones left. They owned the bones too. Turns later they would point to your bones, and show their new objects 'this is what happens when you don't follow the rules. this is what happens when you don't listen to us. You belong to us.'

Is... was that why they didn't even try to control what happened on the Sands? Is that why a death of a child was nothing more then a soft cluck... because they were nothing. They were just property. They didn't matter. They were nothing. Just puppets that moved on their own. Were they a game? Taught so long to respect dragon riders, to listen to them, to do what they said, only to have to be told that they would betray you. Of course they would, because a candidate was nothing.

That's what it was. Otto's scared mind was making leaps in judgement. You were nothing unless a dragon or a wher chose you. That's why his mom had been so scared when she thought his sister had been Searched, even though she was so young. When it was him it hadn't mattered, because he already was nothing. It didn't matter that he died. It didn't matter that he lived. Because he had belonged to her. She made the rules, and he jumped through hoops to follow them. She changed the rules because they were hers, and he belonged to her. His sister was more then that, she didn't belong to anyone, she meant something... and he meant nothing. He was nothing.

Maybe it was a good thing that the CandidateMaster reminded him. Maybe he was getting too big for his britches. When his mother had made the rules, she had told him that he was too stupid to learn things, and... and maybe when they found out that he had been down at the forges, taking an interest in a craft, expressing his curiosity, they had needed to stifle that. He belonged to them, and-

-and Otto didn't like feeling like this. He didn't like having these thoughts, and with a swallow, he stopped thinking about it. He was being silly anyway. She was just concerned about their well being, about dragons. He had heard that some of the newly impressed dragonets and wherets were very interesting. Nodding when she said that if they had any questions that she was there to talk. See, that's all it was. He was just letting his imagination run wild with him.

As they were dismissed, Otto opened his hands, not realizing he had been holding them for so long. There was sheen of sweat on his upper lip that he rubbed away with childish vigor. Looking chipper and enthused again, "Thank you for the reminder, CandidateMaster." He was still new to even the idea of being a candidate, he needed to be reminded about as much as he possibly could. While he had missed a little bit of the speech, he was sure he got a pretty good hold of what not to do.

When she dismissed them, Otto was quick to get off the Sands. He didn't even mind that it looked like he was actively trying to run away. As much as he would avoid the feeling of negative emotions, the CandidateMaster officially made him nervous now. He was good at doing what he was told though, good at staying out of the way. He'd be the perfect invisible candidate.