Chores and All That Humdum (Kanamar)

[4horseshowgirl4]

Scrape. Scrape.

Luven was well settled into his work. The stiff wire bush was gripped firmly in his calloused hand, every forceful motion bringing the ingrained food on the plates a little further off of its surface. It was rhythmic, almost to the extent that one could set a metronome to it. Though he didn't like to remember his failed stint as a Harper or all of his vain effort to make something out of himself that he wasn't, it was still evident that traces of growing up and learning in the Harperhall still lingered with him. Luven's everyday motions had no melody, no beauty or art in them, but there was, always, a steady, subtle rhythm in everything he did. It was logical. It was efficient. There was no wasted motion or extraneous gesture. Even taking a moment to scratch the itch on his nose would be time used incorrectly, with the result being several missing beats and most likely a late entrance.

Scrape. Scrape.

Luven didn't mean to keep this perfect tempo, but it was such a deeply ingrained habit for him to keep time in such a way that the action was nearly unconscious now. He didn't need to fix or remove the habit because it didn't needed to be fixed or removed. The result of it was that Luven got what he needed to get done more quickly, and, usually, better. When he made a hundred perfect, strong strokes on the grimy surface of the plate, he was less likely to make a weak, useless one in the same rhythm. His arm was growing tired from the endless, repetitive motion, and so Luven switched hands. It was still the same fluid motion, skipping a beat and resuming it on the next one. Everything was perfect, planned. It was boring and it was void of any excitement, but, in a way, it was as soothing as a dip in the lake. There was a certain comfort in such a basic chore, a type of satisfaction from getting something done and done well.

Scrape. Scrape.

The plate was clean now. Luven set down the wire brush and held the plate up, his practiced eyes scanning it for any flaw. As expected, it was impeccably cleaned, without a single particle of anything on its shining white surface. Luven set the piece into a growing pile on his left side. No matter how many he did, there always seemed to be more, the pile of dirty dishes on his right ever growing as the drudges continued to collect them from the table now that dinner had just ended. He took a moment to evaluate the type of food that dirtied this plate. He set down the wire brush, exchanging it for one with softer bristles instead. Again, he settled into the same rhythm, the sound of it sinking in volume and becoming softer in tone as he drew the brush across the plate.

Sch. Sch.

Faranth knows that Luven should be good at this by now. How long had he been a Candidate now? It must be around six Turns... he'd been twelve when he'd been Searched, right? Six long, long Turns of waiting and hope beyond hope; six Turns of tossing and turning every night in his cot, dreaming of the day when he would finally leave the Sands with his lifemate at his hip. Funnily enough, he'd been in the kitchen of the Harperhall before he'd been Searched. It was an eerie, full circle sort of thing. Six Turns later, he was back here, back in the kitchen, but he was here in hopes of achieving something far greater, something brag-worthy, something that would earn him the greater glory; whereas six Turns ago he'd gone to the kitchens because he couldn't go anywhere else. As he scrubbed, he silently vowed to himself that he would never be stuck in the kitchens. No, as a Candidate, he came here as his own free will. The choice to be a Candidate and the choice to throw oneself into chores was still a choice, even though being ordered to do so by the Candidatemaster seemed to diminish that quality.

Sch. Sch.

Anyway, chores hadn't officially started, nor had lessons, though there were almost twenty Candidates here now. Many, like Luven, volunteered for the jobs from a mixture of wanting to do their best as well as for lack of anything more productive to do. The Weyr just plain ran better when people chipped in to accomplish the menial jobs that no one honestly wanted to do. Take these dishes. They had to be done, and either Luven could help out and make sure they were done up to his standards (perfectly done, of course, he would settle for no less), or he could leave them for the drudges or other Candidates, who were liable to clean them poorly in order to clean them quickly. Haste makes waste. Luven set down the second dish a few minutes later as its surface once again shined in the dim light of evening. He rinsed his hands in the basin of water over which he was working, heaving a small, contented sigh before tackling the rest of the pile.

Sch. Sch.

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[fidelli]

Ballerina you must of seen her,
Dancing in the sands.
And now she's in me,
Always with me,
Tiny dancer in my hand.

;;dust tossed up, masking the shape. a creature as red as the bloodmoon slid from the cloud, powerful muscles quivering as he turned on a dime, by just the gentlest lean of his slim body. the runner grazed the fence, stretching out rangy muscles and skimming the ground as they raced their own storm, leaving behind a steady trail of dust. they weren't two creatures - they were one, bound together by speed and grace. it was more than the simple commands, the light touches against a wither. it was a pure joy in answering the calls, both taking and giving.

;;a quiet murmur and the runner began to slow. he didn't fight the hand, although there was a loathing quality to his steps. he paced his steps as they neared the building, breathing hard but still ready for another run. it was shown in the way he danced, in the way he tossed the magnificent head and cast an eye back out to the field where they could again race the wind. but the boy on top of the beast would have no such thing - perhaps there was a reluctance that matched the runner there, though. no, he guided the creature back to the stalls, and by the time they were there he was no longer breathing as hard, the warm air cooling off warmer muscles.

;;the man peered in coolly - the stables were empty. good - he didn't feel up to dealing with any beastmaster or herder that would likely find him a chore. he was hungry - but sota would be cared for first. the journeyman ground his teeth in anger at the rider who had searched him - he hadn't wanted to leave his caravan. too many things were different here, and not enough was the same. it wasn't homesickness, but the place was different and not at all what he considered home. "come on, sota." the red chestnut snorted, and nosed the boy on the shoulder, even as they walked down the aisle to where his stall was. the man smiled, a single burning smile that lit of his haughty face and made him human - even kind, perhaps. "it's alright, bud. i'm fine."

;;his runner taken care of, the young man finally slipped from the stables that was where he generally was found and trotted to the dining hall. or, he tried. the headwoman caught him with a glance at his knot that clearly told her he was a slave to her every whim. 'dishes. go help the other candidate in there.' growling to himself, hunger not making him any less pleasurable to be around, he stomped in the kitchen and glanced around. there was a boy, the only one there, washing a huge pile of plates - and he knew that dinner must be over. cursing his lingering in the stables now, he turned to escape - and the headwoman was behind him. 'luven, i brought you help.'

;;kanamar was caught. a cool glance sent the way of the other boy, and he jerked himself from the hold she had set on him the moment he had twitched. "fine, fine," he muttered, "i'm helping. faranth, this is what drudges are for." but none the less he moved over to the tub of water and plunged his hands in the water. "kanamar," he told the kid - luven? - next to him curtly, picking up a brush balanced on the edge and grabbing a plate. a scrub or two, and it was done - he stacked it on his own pile and grabbed another. faranth, he was hungry!

Jesus freaks out in the street,
Handing tickets out for God.
Turning back, she just laughs,
The boulevard is not that bad.

[4horseshowgirl4]

Luven was so absorbed in his work that, at first, he didn't hear the Headwoman's soft summons of the other Candidate outside of the area where he was still scrubbing away. His disciplined mind was completely focused on the task in front of him. The hard-working Candidate would allow nothing to distract him, to allow his eyes to wander away from the particles of food still ingrained in the thin depressions in the plate, to make his hands do anything but scrub, scrub, scrub. There was a certain feeling of satisfaction that came from getting a job done right, and Luven lived for that feeling if he lived for anything. To him, there was no sense of achievement in mere idling or chattering, so why would he rush his work in order to enjoy a bit of free time? To him, it'd be stupid. The last time he'd slacked off, he'd sunburned badly. It just went to reinforce his philosophy that work made everything better. If he'd been helping out in the Weyr like he was supposed to have been, he wouldn't have got sunburned, would he?

Still, absorbed in his task as he was, Luven couldn't help but notice when the Headwoman called his name. He looked up quickly, rather surprised that she knew his name at all. But, then again, she was the Headwoman, and she had to be a sharp woman to manage that job. Luven set his dish down on the rag he was using to dry the plates before pivoting to face her properly. Luven knew he should bow to her, even a bit, but he preferred not to acknowledge her vital position and esteemed rank. Though it was a place Luven could never garner for himself, it still pained him slightly to be reminded that he really wasn't the one running this place, even if it was his small little corner of the kitchen. However, the other young man at her side was enough of an enigma that Luven was hastily able to put the nagging thoughts of his bad etiquette in the back of his mind.

Finally! Luven thought. It's about time someone else developed the decency to volunteer to help! However, a quick glance in Kanamar's direction disproved Luven's first assumption, and it was swiftly apparent that Kanamar was not here voluntarily. Luven, again, was rather surprised when Kanamar shot him a less-than-friendly look, and he just cocked an eyebrow in a lofty manner, like surly Kanamar was just acting like a Weyrbrat and Luven was above that. With that, he turned back to his own pile of dishes, already fighting a growing dislike towards the other young man. Normally, it wasn't hard for Luven to think of other Candidates as friends and comrades, but this one, with his surly attitude and classic Dragonrider physique, broke Luven's usual rule. He saw him only as competition, and, already, Luven was itching to show him who was best. The feeling was irrational, Luven knew, but it was his driving emotion at the moment nonetheless. He picked up his plate again and continued to scrub, putting more force into the scrubbing motion than he needed to.

Still, Luven held his tongue and turned his mind back to his chores, feeling a moment of quiet accomplishment as he looked at the impressive stack of plates that he'd already cleaned. The feeling rushed over him, soothing as the cool water of the lake on a scorching summer's day. However, at Kanamar's next words, Luven exploded. How dare he? How dare he scorn honest work and act like the idlers Luven so detested? "Look, you," Luven said, struggling to keep his voice from rising, plate and brush still gripped tightly in his hands. "I don't know who you think you are, but you're a Candidate. We work in exchange for the highest honor there is." Luven was snarling at the other Candidate, but when his mind landed lightly on the subject of Impression for the shortest moment, his eyes brightened, just to darken with his foul mood again.

It didn't take long for Luven's smoldering grey eyes to see the pile of unacceptably 'clean' dishes. Luven slapped his own plate back on the counter roughly, cracking in the process. For a moment, his fury at Kanamar was transitioned to himself for making such a careless, wasteful mistake, but it didn't take long for the anger at himself to mix with that aimed at the other and shoot back out. "You lazy wherry! Do you think that Dalibor's just going to hand you a dragon? Put some effort into it, you good-for-nothing! Why should you get to Stand to be one of this place's protectors when you don't even feel loyal enough to it to clean its dishes? I've been Standing for longer than you can imagine, and let me tell you something! You just have to suck it up and work for your place! I don't like it either, but you're going to do what the Headwoman tells you, and, shard it, you're going to do it well!" Luven turned back to his own plate under the pretense of examining the crack, but his vision was really too clouded with his frustration at the other to take in anything.

[/font]

[fidelli]

I've been all around the world,
I've been a new sensation,
But it doesn't really matter,
In this ge-generation.

;;callused hands sunk elbow deep in soapy water, kanamar cursed his luck. his satisfaction came from the smooth turn of a runner under his hand, or a young runner allowing him to mount the creature without ever having to turn a violent word or hand on him. he didn't even mind cleaning stalls - although as a trader he had never seen the point of stalls - he didn't mind doing the work because it was a give and take. he gave to the creatures, and in return they worked for him, they loved him unconditionally. there was no point in cleaning the plate of some high and mighty rider that scooped him up and cheerfully demanded that he stand to try and Impress.

;;the young man's reaction to his appraising look was not something that he had ever expected, a lordly lift of the eyebrow as though he was just some bug under his foot. it didn't give him a high ranking in kanamar's already limited patience, and even as luven turned back to his own dishes, kanamar scowled at his back. let him be, the cool part of his mind cautioned. let him alone, and finish the job so his empty belly would stop trying to crawl in on itself. a soundless sigh, and he shoved the young man out of mind. he was snappish and crabby and knew that, so he tried to stay calm and finish the work quickly - quality didn't matter when he didn't care.

;;'look, you.' the explosion - not at all what he expected - made kanamar turn, raising a single eyebrow in mockery at what luven had done before. 'i don't know who you think you are, but you're a candidate. We work in exchange for the highest honor there is.' the words startled him, but with nothing to restrain him kanamar made his judgment against the male. his lip titled upwards in a sneer as he looked down at the shorter man, and he waited until he was done before carefully insulting him - that is to say he turned his back on him and completely ignored him. he wouldn't deign the malicious comment with a response, and kanamar couldn't see getting that worked up that quickly as useful or even worth it.

;;an honor? please. this was his own personal hell, and he couldn't think of anything better to do that not care. he was a candidate because he was forced to - he was heir to much better than this! freedom awaited him out there, on the back of a runner. in here, there was nothing but chain to a runner. his musing over the words allowed his own anger, always bubbling under the surface nowadays and even more willing to explode as his food deprived body rebelled, but luven apparently didn't see that.

;;crack! the resounding noise made him look around, startled, but the young man looked at him and began to rant. 'you lazy wherry! do you think that Dalibor's just going to hand you a dragon? put some effort into it, you good-for-nothing! why should you get to stand to be one of this place's protectors when you don't even feel loyal enough to it to clean its dishes? i've been standing for longer than you can imagine, and let me tell you something! you just have to suck it up and work for your place! i don't like it either, but you're going to do what the headwoman tells you, and, shard it, you're going to do it well!'

;;silence... but only for a moment. how dare he! how dare he raise himself on his high runner and pretend he was better than him? anger clouded his own vision, but he forced himself to hold his tongue and loosen his arrows carefully. it would take more than that to make kanamar loose his head completely. "i'm hoping they don't hand me a dragon. the creatures are useless - give me a runner any day." the arrow loosened right into the part of the boy who seemed to idolize dragons, but he was already re-stringing and drawing back again. "if you've been standing for such a long time, shorty, then perhaps you should start to realize that maybe they don't want you to have a dragon either." two arrows shot, one after another - although it really wasn't quite fair to call him short when most people were shorter than him.

;;one last carefully nocked and he loosened it with a malicious intent. "explain to me, please, when you became the headwoman? i'm sure you look enough of one to make due, but last i checked that delightful woman was over there." he had noticed the kid not bow, had seen the headwoman raise an eyebrow but bustle away, and he didn't know why - but now... "unless you really do want to be a woman, and then i'm sure that your cotton-soft hands will let you pass off as one." the delivered words were quick and sharp, and he smiled benignly at luven before plunging his hands back in the water and carefully washing the plate with two scratches and going off to the next one. what a nice way to make friends.

For the record label puts me on the shelf up in the freezer
Gotta find another way to live the life of leisure
So I drop my top,
Mix and I mingle
Is everybody ready for the single innuendos...

[4horseshowgirl4]

When Luven had finished berating the other, he paused, letting the uncomfortable silence fill the room. It spread like gas, its effect hitting Luven suddenly. Abruptly, Luven was filled with a vehement feeling of oh-Faranth-what-have-I-done, regretting for a moment that he'd lost his temper at Kanamar. While his hands fiddled with the crack, examining the extent of the damage, Luven fought an internal war with himself. What did you have to yell for? No, he deserved it! Fighting impresses no one! But standing up for yourself will! However, whatever he said to himself, he'd already made up his mind that, by the first egg, he'd teach Kanamar a lesson about duty and responsibility! He'd finish what he'd started, even if he still wasn't sure what he'd started was the smartest idea ever.

With Kanamar's words, Luven placed the plate down-- carefully, this time, as it would hardly do for the plate to break completely-- to face the other. The shorter Candidate refused to be intimidated by the half-a-foot-taller one. He crossed his arms, hands relaxed, still not clenched into fists, and looked Kanamar in the eye if the other was man enough to return the look! He plastered the same laughing smirk, the same haughty, cocked eyebrow mocking Kanamar's obvious stupidity. Did the boy really think that such petty insults would have an effect on Luven? He had to be a fool to think that. His first statement had obvious holes in its logic, holes that even the tiniest Weyrbrat could find. Dragons were useless, hmm? Luven would like for Kanamar to explain to him, then, why so many Weyrs had been built for the sole purpose of housing them? Inwardly, he couldn't help but laugh, a condescending smile dancing on his lips for a moment. Kanamar opened his mouth again-- what rubbish would spew from it this time? Luven seriously doubted that he'd say any...

Oh. No, he didn't. There were many things that Luven could tolerate or laugh off, the cruelest insults at his near-obsession with getting chores done perfectly or the most mean-intentions shots at his unremarkable physique. However, hints-- any word-- that Luven had failed at something, the slightest suggestion that he was going nowhere in life, well, that hurt Luven more than anything else could. In a moment, he felt his amused, taunting retorts shrivel and die as he inwardly felt himself curl around his dignity, hissing like a mother cat protecting her young. He didn't allow a shred of the evidence of the deep blow to touch his exterior beyond a sudden softening of his aggressive body language, a second of self-doubt flickering in his tensed muscles. His face however, was still a sneering, as challenging, as maddeningly superior as it had been a minute ago.

Once the shock of the verbal blow had passed, Luven's temper was sparked, more fuel added to the fury he already felt. Now, he knew for certain, Kanamar could not leave here until Luven won, however he was planning to do that. Again, the Candidate was overcome by an even stronger drive to prove that he was the best of the two, to lodge his name firmly over that of the other. Luven longed with every particle of his being to do something-- anything-- to ensure that he was the one who succeeded, who went farther, than this other who was standing in front of him. Luven had nothing of Kanamar's calm, skilled wording; while Luven was extremely capable of deft, well-thought-out decision-making as it applied to his actions, he lacked the same self-discipline when speaking. Words escaped his mouth before his mind had time to review them, possibly recall them, and edit them.

"When Thread returns," Luven began, his voice shaking from anger slightly, "I'll be laughing on my dragon, saving Pern, while you run away from the scary stuff on your little runner." He was as mocking and jeering as he could be, though the effect was not as obvious as Luven had hoped. However, one could not deny the ringing truth in his words, the undoubted conviction of his words. He was right; he knew full well that he was right. How could anyone possibly even think of calling runners, fine creatures though they were, superior to dragons? "And why are you here if you don't want a dragon? No one forces you to be a Candidate!" Luven stated challengingly. "Unless... unless you're so weak that you allowed someone to manipulate you into Standing?" Luven forced himself to laugh, smirking at Kanamar, daring him to reply to that. "Or are you just too afraid to be a Dragonrider?"

Luven didn't dare answer Kanamar's second insult, the one that had actually hit home. There was too much uncomfortable truth in the statement for Luven's liking. Why had he mentioned his length as a Candidate, anyway? It seemed pretty stupid now. There was a long pause as Luven considered his next words, fuming at Kanamar's fakely innocent smile. "Calloused hands don't do you much good when you don't use them for anything but petting ponies," Luven finally said, a self-satisfied sneer on his face as he, too, picked up another plate, scrubbing it carefully and energetically as if to show Kanamar what real effort looked like.

[/font]

[fidelli]

step one: you say we need to talk
he walks, you say sit down it's just a talk
he smiles polity back at you
you smile polity right on through

;;responsibility, honor. they all meant nothing when faced with the real truth of everything - you had but one responsibility in life - yourself. you had but one thing to honor - yourself. family, friends, they meant nothing when in the end it was only you facing yourself in the mirror. kanamar didn't quite like mirrors - maybe it was because he wasn't sure he liked what was staring back at him, or maybe it was because he knew he had to answer to himself already, but he avoided them unless it was a glance to make sure he was properly decked out with everything just so.

;;he answered to no one but himself, and that included this wherry standing in front of him. he would not loose his temper, would not hit him, would not loose control. he knew that he had more tenacity and willpower than most people were gifted with, but to easily did he let his emotions take over and find insult where none was given. he wanted to ball his fists up and slug the young man in the mouth, but he could not let the returning volley strike any deeper than they would. he found it too easy to be overly critical of anything luven said, wrinkling his crooked nose in disgust, as though the boy had an odious smell, but he met the young man's eyes with his own clay red-brown and refused to look elsewhere - he would not give him the satisfaction of submitting.

;;it was the a mirror of his mask placed on the man, and yet kanamar refused to be cowed. it would take time to find real targets, because he could see his first ones making no score - but once a hole was ripped open he could easily make it larger. words were simply a plaything, simply a way to attack without leaving any physical marks that could and would get him in trouble. he himself always declared to the figureheads in his life that he had fallen down - but other's had tattled. he saw no point in bringing anyone in on what they had done but himself and the perpetrator. it was hiding, in his opinion, a cowardly wasteful thing to do.

;;the smile on his lips was different - a condescending sort of smirk that seemed to try and look down on him for it. kanamar only strengthened his own steely mask of perfect agreement, and let the carnage continue, although he would have liked to reach other and rip the smile from his face. he just wanted to strike at him - his hands quivered, the right one flexing just slightly as he itched for the chance to ball it up and sink it into flesh.

;;a strike - perfectly hit. it showed in the way that he shifted, a simple drawing back as though kanamar had hit him in the face. it wasn't outward - he grudgingly gave luven props on that - but the air around him seemed to waver, the projectile making it's mark. if he hadn't been so intent on the boy, so focused on him, it would have been absolutely impossible to pick out, but he did and raised his chin just slightly in the air, a haughty pride in the motion.

;;luven was growing on his nerves however, when he didn't back down. he longed for the chance to attack - words were not enough anymore. he had to prove he was the better, the stronger, in a way that luven was not. he had to show that nothing the other man would say could hurt him, that luven was wasting his time. it was a battle of dominance, each getting more and more dangerous as they circled, warily testing the other with faints and blocks. only one had to spring, one true move had to made and they would be at the other's throats for nothing better than a willingness to do things right and a bone aching hunger.

;;'when thread returns i'll be laughing on my dragon, saving pern, while you run away from the scary stuff on your little runner.'

[/i] the anger was a wavering, shimmering heat in between them, nearly tangible. he could feel the anger, knew that he had drawn the man out and although the words were crude, they had the effect of lodging under his skin like barbs he couldn't get out. 'and why are you here if you don't want a dragon? no one forces you to be a candidate!' a soundless snarl, twisting ugly on his face as the sneer became more pronounced, an ugly thing. 'unless... unless you're so weak that you allowed someone to manipulate you into standing?' the laugh was too forced, but only made the anger twist and writhe under his skin, a living creature of it's own persuasion. 'or are you just too afraid to be a dragonrider?'

;;don't show fear. the best it could do was smile, killing him with kindness as he ached for the chance to lash out and crack him across the face. smile at the idiot boy who thought he was better than him, even as kanamar used the silence to clench his hands under the water and neatly bend the fork that he had been holding. 'calloused hands don't do you much good when you don't use them for anything but petting ponies.' enough was enough. dropping the plate and shaking the water from his hands, kanamar roughly shoved at the other candidate, trying to catch him on the shoulder and spin him around to face him. in almost a blind rage, he didn't bother to notice it work, but shifted his balance steadily over his feet in a readier stance. his words trembled, but he still kept the same self-satisfied innocent grin on his face.

;;"we trader's have lived without the protection of your riders for intervals. we have no fear of thread, and no respect for great beasts who feel they can drop from the sky and demand our children, our friends." he had lost friends to rider's who had snatched them up to be candidates - mother's had wept over sons who left and never returned, dead long before their time. they had lived without the protection of thread, and although some died, so did riders and their dragons. but it was the next comment, the snatch about standing, that really made him furious. he didn't want to impress, that much was true. the bronze that had searched him hadn't really given him much of a choice either, although his rider had apologized for his behavior. he could have asked for a ride home on another dragon - but it was duty that kept him here.

;;duty made him stay, for he had been searched for the clutch hardening on the sands. he would leave if he didn't impress at this, and gladly. but something else nagged at him, some thought that he wished he could rip from his head and forget. he had been sent to the beasthall at a young age, without much of a choice. he had been there until only a quarter of a turn ago - miserable turns. although he had walked the table, he knew that it would be turns and turns before he could even think about his master's, and turns before he led the caravan. he had been molded to this his entire life, and had never thought that he had a chance or even a reason to do anything different. with the arrival of a rider, it was an unpleasant thought that he hadn't earned the right to be what and who he was... this gave him a chance to prove to himself that it was the caravan he belonged in, that the weyr held nothing - especially for him.

;;but to the boy he only sniffed, turning up his nose. "i really wouldn't expect you to know anything about duty to yourself, and to your family. after all, if you've been in so many hatchings and they haven't offered you the chance to do another craft, than perhaps you just fail at everything. i mean, to be ignored by one's parents because of failing at anything is awful." he spoke of not impressing - many parents were proud of the fact that their little angel was to be a rider. "and i, luven my poor sad fellow, i am not afraid of anything." it didn't sound immature coming from his mouth. it wasn't mocking, wasn't haughty, but plain fact. he saw no point in fearing things - better to respect them.

;;he stood there, anger leaking from every pore as he waited for the proper chance, the right thing to say - he wouldn't mind not standing if he was allowed to break the face of this useless dimglow. "runner's are more useful that doing dishes."

some sort of window to your right
but she goes left, and you stay right
between the lines you fear the blame
you begin to wonder why you came

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[4horseshowgirl4]

Luven was scrubbing at the dishes, waiting, waiting for Kanamar's reaction. As the fractions of seconds passed, Luven grew more and most distracted from what he was doing; his attention turning from the task at hand to what was imminent. The cogs in his mind worked swiftly, trying to guess at Kanamar's reaction, trying to plot what Luven would do next. Much as Luven would like to avoid a physical encounter with the far-larger Kanamar, he knew that that was a moot point; he'd started this, after all, and, by Faranth, he was ready to finish it, to see it through!

Involuntarily, his muscles began to tense, defying Luven as he ordered them to relax. Adrenaline and testosterone began to bleed into his veins, preparing him, fueling the small flicker of desire he had to force Kanamar to recognize who, truly, was the better and the stronger. Luven believed, no, no, he knew, that he, not the huskier Candidate in front of him, was the better of the two. After all, he wasn't the one who was slacking off on his chores and pretending that he didn't want a dragon. Whatever he said, Luven rested easily knowing that, at the end, it was those who worked hard that succeeded, and dragons were the ones who ensured that humans could continue to inhabit Pern. Whatever Kanamar might say, Luven would put his faith in these truisms.

So, when he was shoved, he was as ready as was possible. The blow landed full force on Luven's right shoulder, compelling his right leg to spin around to catch Luven's body. He rotated, wobbling slightly, before catching his balance, facing Kanamar as the other had intended. Luven was mentally shaken by the unwarned shove, but he blocked out those thoughts; his mind wanted to go back and analyze the logistics of it all, but Luven refused to let it. He was defiant against Kanamar, and he would press forward, until, well... he didn't really want to consider the consequences at the moment. He crossed his arms, his brush still in one hand, and clenched his jaw. His grey eyes, seeming to darken with the rest of his face to the color of storm clouds, glared up at Kanamar, completely unfooled by the innocent smile. What was that? Oh, how Luven wanted to swing the first fist and wipe that mock smile off of Kanamar's...!

But he couldn't. Despite what he had just said to himself a moment before, Luven was not, would not, act without first mulling over what could happen as a result. It wasn't exactly hard to guess what would happen if he punched (or tried to punch) Kanamar. He would most likely be beaten to a pulp, and O'sho would toss him out of Candidacy for starting a fight, at least for Kalith's Hatching. No, no, that definitely wasn't something he was willing to risk. However, he knew that Kanamar was not likely bound by the same emotions. That idiot in front of him didn't waaaant a dragon. No, he was too gooood for one, and runners were beeeetter. Well, let him think that way, and let him take the blame for starting something. Let him get tossed out and go back to his runnerbeasts. Luven wasn't going to be stupid, but he wouldn't prevent Kanamar.

"Well, duh," Luven said, sneering maliciously. "It's pretty easy to claim bravery against something no one's seen for two hundred Turns. I guess you've just never read the stories. Well, like I said, feel free to educate yourself before you realize that the stuff falling on your caravan eats through all of you-- human, runner, anything." Luven smirked, quite enjoying poking holes through Kanamar's flawed logic. It was almost too easy, and it took Luven a second to realize that he might be getting a little too arrogant. Well, it was too late at this point, he reasoned. He let the hubris fade from the smirk, toning it down a tinge, but his self-confidence still shone through. No slacker was getting the best of him.

Luven just didn't understand Kanamar. Why didn't he want to Impress? It was the dream of every youngster on Pern, or so it seemed. Didn't he want the glory of sharing a mind with a creature far greater than he was? The self-satisfaction of knowing that he was good enough to be the lifemates of one of the mighty beasts? Did the achievement of saving Pern count for nothing at all? Luven felt a long of desire shoot through him. One day, he, Luven, would join the leagues of the Dragonriders. He clung to that goal for all he was worth, because, truly, it was all he had. He had long since shoved the idea of becoming Masterharper aside-- but wasn't becoming a Dragonrider just as worthy of an achievement? Luven certainly thought so; he had long since channeled the energy of his capable mind into that direction. He would not fail again!

Still, the painful memories of his years at the Harperhall were near the front of his mind, and Kanamar's next comment rubbed them raw, shocking Luven. How... how had he known? How could the other Candidate possibly have guessed the truth-- that Luven's parents had all but disowned him after he'd failed in even becoming an apprentice? How? After the incredulity had slightly worn off, Luven was filled with an almost uncontrollable rage. You just didn't insult someone's family... you just didn't! For the first time, he clenched his fists, his fury spilling out of his heart and overflowing into his physique.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Luven knew he was getting too hot and passionate about this. The best logic in the world wouldn't matter if he couldn't keep his temper down, if he couldn't match Kanamar's coolness. He forced himself to calm down. True, his family hadn't done much for him, but they were still his family, and they'd done the best they could, right? What more could a kid ask for than a stable home with plenty to eat, and two parents who had spent most of their free time teaching him their craft? So what if he'd flunked out of it-- if he had been in their shoes, he would have been upset, too! But, he knew that they, almost as much as him, wanted him to succeed, if not in Harping, than in something! The first thing I'm going to do when I get out of Weyrlinghood, Luven said to himself, is fly to the Harperhall so they can see me, see what I've made of myself, and they'll be proud! They'll be proud of me!

He lifted his chin before replying to Kanamar. "My family's made me strong. They've taught me what I need to know. They choose to remain at the Harperhall and do what they do best rather than follow me here; so what? It doesn't mean they don't love me." Passion and conviction rang out in his every word, and he took an audacious step closer to Kanamar. "Perhaps the reason you're not afraid of anything is because you haven't pushed yourself hard enough yet," Luven said, fighting to keep the anger out of his voice. He stood as a stark contrast to Kanamar: if one was to guess which of the two was closest to punching the other, it seemed to be obviously-furious Luven, but he had little desire to swing a fist at Kanamar. "I wouldn't expect you to know anything about challenges, though."

Luven did not reply to Kanamar's last statement. It was almost a matter of opinion, and there was no use debating it. Runners did provide an efficient means of communications, more reliable than firelizards and more accessible than dragons. On the other hand, cleaning dishes prevented disease. It was like comparing apples to oranges: both were equally needed, but Luven just shook his head, knowing, from what the other had said earlier, that it was little use arguing that with him. The less Luven said at this point, the better. He didn't break eye contact with Kanamar, waiting for the other's response.

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;;Anger was a steady slow burn that started in the pit of his stomach and worked upwards, making his head pound. 'Well, duh.' Oh shards, he wanted to wipe that sneer from his face. 'It's pretty easy to claim bravery against something no one's seen for two hundred Turns. I guess you've just never read the stories. Well, like I said, feel free to educate yourself before you realize that the stuff falling on your caravan eats through all of you-- human, runner, anything.' His logic was not flawed - The arrogant prick deserved somebody to wipe his face in fact that his knowledge wasn't as well carved as he had thought. But Kanamar was smart - he was content to wait to talk - let the foolish kid play his cards out and allow him to keep the Ace up his sleeve until the most probable moment.

;;It seemed however, that his scattered remark had done more than he could have possibly hoped before. The comment about parents had been a random shot - and it had been a lucky draw that thunked into place so close to the heart. Rage flared in Luven's eyes, and Kanamar found his smile sweetening even more, stretching out into an almost loving look. He looked down on him - Luven was no better than any other person, and yet he fought for it, fought to be better than he was. Folly, the ignorant kid. Dragonriding was what you fell back on when you had no other option - he had a life out there! Family was important, as his reaction clearly showed. Family was what drove people to keep going. Kanamar was the same way - he had to prove to his family, his caravan, that he was just as good as his Grandfather.

;;'My family's made me strong. They've taught me what I need to know. They choose to remain at the Harperhall and do what they do best rather than follow me here; so what? It doesn't mean they don't love me.' Kanamar shrugged, smirking as the passionate young man took a step closer. His fist's tightened, but he wouldn't strike - he couldn't. That was just as bad as being shoved out. 'Perhaps the reason you're not afraid of anything is because you haven't pushed yourself hard enough yet. I wouldn't expect you to know anything about challenges, though.'

;;Eye to eye they stood, noses almost pushed together, and Kanamar was abruptly even more furious than before. How dare he! How dare he say he wasn't challenged? The sad thing was, they were more alike than they thought, Kananar and Luven. The two had fought to be accepted for as good as they were, although in different fields. Kanamar had woken every day for nearly ten turns, fighting to prove his worth to everyone - they wouldn't listen until he had been scarred for life, and even then some dismissed the lad. It wasn't what he wanted, and the anger that he could feel growing was shoved into every word, every syllable clipped and short as he fought not to loose his anger. He was furious - eyes glittered with suppressed rage, but it would never have shown from his words.

;;"Here this - Candidate. We do not claim bravery - we do what is necessary. You tell me how the smaller Hold's would get anything if we didn't risk our lives during Passes, traveling to every place across Pern and back? We have our stories - we know the tales. We have lived just as long as the Rider's have been created, called foolish, but we survived longer than you all could. We have lizards if we need it - we are more powerful than you think, and bravado means nothing." His voice had lowered to almost a whisper, and with an effort he unclenched his hands.

;;"Your family? You really need your family to follow you here to spoon feed you? Following you has nothing to do with love - love means they accept you no matter how crappy you've been." Than he did something odd - with a quick tug he pulled his shirt over his head, baring his chest. "Don't tell me I haven't pushed myself. Don't even try to tell me that I haven't challenged myself." Across the front of his chest was a scar, a few turns old. The skin was puckered and dried, looking perhaps almost reptilian. They were scars from burns, third degree, that ran up his chest and down his back, up and over his shoulder, and still bothered him. "When you can face yourself in the mirror and know that you've done more than you should and almost died for it - than you tell me that I haven't challenged myself."

;;And with that he turned and walked away. He hadn't shown him the scars to be macho or to prove he was tougher - he needed Luven to understand that he couldn't throw around accusations. Walking away didn't mean was wimping out, and he wasn't backing down - but he guessed that hitting him in the face wasn't a good reason to have left the torturous weyr.

Kanamar has left the building.