When You're Down and Troubled (Rhi!)

[Rii]

{desc=Sora/Jyderin}Sora meandered through the corridors of the lower caverns, hands stuffed in her pockets and an absentmindedly gloomy expression on her face. It was just after the evening meal - some people were probably still finishing theirs, but she'd eaten quickly and fled the dining hall before anyone decided to pester her. It was far too early to go to her room and sleep, she didn't want to look at the eggs again, it was absolutely pouring rain outside and she didn’t much feel like getting soaked tonight, even if she didn’t generally mind being out in the elements. In short, she felt very much like someone with nowhere to go and no space to help sort out her problems.

Sora didn’t want to admit she needed help. Certainly she wasn’t going to admit that she wanted help. She didn’t want things, because wanting things wasn’t safe. It was one of a long list of things that she classified as a vulnerability. No, if she had any option at all, she much preferred to put on a brave face and slog through the hard times on her own. It was a credit to her internal strength that it had sustained her through many of her formative Turns.

Only… the sevendays since Callistath and Kalesk had clutched had been… rough. As the candidate barracks filled, she’d found herself all too often in situations she found uncomfortable. Her roommate was no great respecter of personal space and quiet, removing one of the places she’d normally view as somewhere to relax and recharge. She was as much teased as ever for her withdrawn nature. Worse, because she knew that the one who had troubled her in the kitchens had been a rider, someone she had no recompense against. She was afraid of what could come of that still. Ironically, lessons and chores had become an escape, a time when hard work and discipline could replace nipping words and unpleasant thoughts.

Sora had her fair share of unpleasant thoughts. Chief of these had reared its ugly head after a conversation with a particularly irritating candidate, and it had silently bothered her ever since. She’d been trying to decide if she wanted to wear armor and protect her life - and was struck by how little the thought of being savaged and possibly killed by an angry wheret or dragonet bothered her. Granted she didn’t let herself care about much, but it had been a small red flag even to her numbed emotions.

Since then, she’d found herself questioning everything. When she sought escape, or peace and quiet, what was she really seeking? Was her ‘safer’ road leading to something bad? And did those thoughts make her unfit to be a candidate? Shards, but she wanted to be a dragonrider, though. She wanted to fly. In the brief flights she’d had, it had made her feel alive, for just that little bit. No worries over if she was a good candidate or if there was something wrong with her that she wasn't handling the stresses of candidacy as well as she expected of herself. No wistful thoughts about the familiar faces and steady, unvarying patterns that had filled the bulk of her life at home. As confident as she was in her abilities as a general thing, of late she didn't feel so sure of herself, and she hated it. Hated the uncertainty and the void just as much as she hated the thought of asking for help.

Shut up. Not helping. Not even productive. It really was highly unfair that even her thoughts were bothering her. Looking around, she found herself in front of the door to the weyrtanner’s workshop. Hesitating for a moment, she shook her head crossly and started to turn away. Probably not even in right now. And I don’t even know what I want. If anything.

[RhiaBlack]

Jyderin had been immensely busy since his arrival at Dalibor. Being the first Master Tanner in the Weyr, and the only one at that, there was no shortage of work. The Hold work had been limited to herdbeast riggings, martingales and saddles and bitwork for the Runners, clothing and hides cleaned for writing upon.

Now was no different. He was up like his son; before Rukbat rose, and often went to bed long after it had set behind the edge of the bowl. With his hair bound back behind his neck, he was stood before a large metal rack, with slatted supports to keep the hide he put upon it in place. Behind him, several other hides - most with the hair still on them - were lain across a strange-looking, angled piece of furniture. Essentially, a de-barked section of a sizable tree, set upon a support rack to hold it, so that he could use it as a surface to work on.

Around the large room were shelves that were stacked with finished, tanned hides, and various half-finished pieces of leatherworking. Some new martingales for some of the Runners, a handful of dragon saddles for various-sized dragons. A few partially-finished vests and pairs of boots. Perhaps personal pieces, perhaps others, it was anyone's guess.

The door was ajar when Sora reached it - Jyderin never kept it shut or locked if he was inside working, though one could debate if he did so even then. He trusted that the large majority of the Weyr was full of people who knew the value of such items inside, and wouldn't trifle with his handiwork for the sake of maliciousness. Much as Z'dyn had made the attempt to convince his father otherwise.

He had rubbed elbows with a few various Riders and Weyrfolk since his arrival, but much of his time had been so encompassed with catching up on work that he didn't have as much time to do so as he'd have liked. That was fine, however. Work was honest, and it kept him humble enough.

Calloused hands plucked the blunt, double-gripped knife from beside him, and he stuck one of the handles between his teeth as he picked up one of the fresher hides. It had been washed to remove the more unsightly bits of blood and gore; with his sleeves rolled up to keep them clean - ish, anyways - he flattened the hide fur-side down to the wooden log, and the painstaking process of stripping the hide of fat and shreds of meat began.

There was an overarching sound that escaped the room, outside of the working of hides and sounds of footsteps from within. Jyderin had always held a natural capacity to hum or sing while he worked, taken in the times of much older days passed where he watched his boys in their infancy and younger childhood ages. Their mother had been a Drudge, and as a result required long hours working for the Hold. Jyderin was able to see to them, to most extents, and many candlemarks had seen the Master Tanner's baritone notes sending his children to the realm of sleep.

Even now, the smell of leather made Z'dyn sleepy. It was no secret to the older, dark-haired man why his son normally only visited him outside the weyrtanner's shop. The thought put a smirk on his features, as he shifted the dull edge with a rythmic series of swipes. This was a smaller hide; he wanted to make sure that he could finish it and set it to cure overnight. It would need six candlemarks at least for the tallow to set in. He'd set to work on the larger hides for that, once it was squared away to soak.

His hearing picked up on footsteps in the corridor, and he thought little to nothing of it - people passed by his door regularly enough that it was of no consequence. When they stopped, however, it drew his intrigue. He waited to see if whomever it was would enter. When nothing moved past his doorframe, he paused in his work.

"Come now, I don't bite. Who's there?"

[Rii]

There was humming and other soft sounds inside, Sora realized even as she hesitated outside the door. That meant the weyrtanner was probably inside, working - she didn’t think there were any thieves in the Weyr, and they wouldn’t hum while they worked. On the other hand, it could just be someone cleaning up. Would it really hurt to peek in? She supposed they could end up chattering at her, but she could always claim lessons to review or something…

Annnnnd busted. Whoever was inside, had realized that someone was outside. Alright, I guess it won’t hurt to answer. I don’t have to stay. And it would serve as a good distraction from the thoughts that plagued her. Turning back around, Sora ventured into the threshold, leaning against the frame of the entrance. With her no-nonsense braid of hair and the drab brown trousers and black tunic she almost always wore (she had multiple outfits, but they were all equally plain), she looked like a drudge, bar the candidate’s knots she wore on one arm. Those told the world that instead of just being a drudge, she was a drudge that had a chance of Impressing a dragon or wher. Although most candidates didn’t look quite so gloomy.

Blue eyes traveled listlessly over the scene inside. The man was preparing a hide, which meant this was indeed the tanner. She only had the vaguest of knowledges about working with leather. Take hide, do things to it, wiggle fingers, wait, and leather happened. Basics of cutting and stitching, she knew - it was a little like doing the same with cloth, after all, only tougher. At any rate, it was not a craft she would likely ever pursue, but she respected those who’d trained in any craft and attained rank simply because it spoke of hard work and skill.

It was that respect that prompted her to speak. “Sorry if I bothered you. I was just wandering around and stopped outside.” Granted, she’d stopped outside because she had been debating if it was worth going inside, but shh. Didn’t need to say that. The candidate pushed her hands a little more firmly into her pockets and hunched her shoulders. “You’re the new weyrtanner, aren’t you, sir?” Had she heard his name? Master… Masterrrr something. She gave up.

[RhiaBlack]

"My dear, there is no such thing as bothering me. Wait, I stand corrected. If you came over and sat on my work, or stood in the way, perhaps, but where you are, you are generally harmless. As you would be just about anywhere in this room outside of, oh, say...right here."

Jyderin flashed a million-mark smile, as he patted the hide with the side of the blade; though, like his son, the expression on his features was slightly crooked to one side. Proof that Z'dyn came by it honestly enough, after all, before the scars had anything to do with it.

"And you would be correct. Master Tanner Jyderin, at your service, m'lady. However, given it's just us in here - unless for some magical reason these hides and skins decide to get a mind of their own - you can call me Jyderin. No need to keep to the titles in non-official company, after all. Tends to be more than a mouthful."

Swipe-swipe....swipe-swipe....over and over, the dull edge culled the fat and flesh from the hide he was working over, a practiced eye only once moving from his work to the girl at the door.

"There's a stool there, if you'd like to come sit. I brought some Klah with me, it's in the pot there, and there's a mug beside it you can use, you're welcome to it if you'd like." Another several swipes with the double-gripped straight-edge. "What's your name?"

[Rii]

Not being in the way and staying out of trouble contributed a great deal to how rarely she hung around with others. Taking care of herself so that no one else had to worry about her, and she didn’t have to worry about them. Apparently she’d never heard of the phrase ‘no man is an island’. Without ever hearing about that snippet of wisdom, she was finding it out for herself. She’d wanted to prove to the world that she could handle her own troubles alone, and granted, she could - but not well, and not happily.

And now the tanner insisted she was not in the way - well, as long as she didn’t get on top of his work, and seriously, who did that? - and even invited her to stay. Maybe it was that crooked hook of a smile that made her hesitate on the brink of refusal. Hesitate, then approach, perching on the stool indicated and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, watching him work. “Not a lady. Just a girl,” she offered with a shrug. “Candidate, really, I guess.” A hand slid up her arm to finger the very plain rank knot she wore. Yep, it was still there.

She took the moment to study the man. There was actually something familiar about that smile. About his face in general, though she was sure she’d never seen him before. It was rather puzzling, and she frowned slightly, trying to work it out. It was so vague… Have I actually seen him before and just don’t remember? I know I’ve never met him. She set it in the back of her mind to percolate.

“My name’s Sora,” the girl answered in response to his query. “From Hope Hold, really, but I got Searched from Western.” That was a story all of its own, but she wasn’t so sure it was a particularly interesting one. Then again, she was rather unnaturally jaded for someone her age. “Where were you posted before here?” Masters, if she recalled correctly, were more likely to choose where they went rather than be assigned somewhere like a journeyman. Something like that.

[RhiaBlack]

Jyderin held a propensity for chivalry that was fiercely instilled in Z'dyn from a young age - to some extent, that was. The real reason that Jyderin had come to the Weyr hadn't been for work, but to keep an eye on the Ironrider a bit more closely than he could from the Hold. But he of course wasn't going to elaborate on that. Not to anyone, and most certainly not to a Candidate.

"It's a term of respect more than anything else," Jyderin continued, as he swept the scraped pieces into a bucket to one side - away from company as to not be crude, "Every woman, young or old, is a Lady until they give one reason not to be called such. Much as every man or boy, regardless of age, is a 'sir'. I try not to be condescending if I can help it. The title tends to make most shy away, if the knots don't."

He maintained the grin to some extents; it never seemed to really fade, pending trajic situations of course. Pausing, his brows knit together as he leaned across the log-prop to examine the hide, scraping at something with his thumb before giving it a quick swipe with the blade. His attention was focused, but it wasn't hard to tell he was still actively listening to Sora.

"My home Hold was Cove. Shortly after I lost my wife and my eldest son to an illness in the Winter months, my youngest and I were part of the caravan that established Western. I walked the tables for my Master knots there, and I crafted there until my son convinced me to come here. Seems an apt decision, there's no shortage of work."

He settled back into his seat, and leaned one forearm against the rounded-off edge of the log-prop, thumb running against the dull edge of the blade. Jyderin's eyes were blue, the same striking shade Z'dyn had inherited from him; and like his father, Z'dyn's eyes expressed a substantial measure of his emotions. She reminded him of Keidia, though much younger and different in appearance. Stern, guarded, hard-working, but never the sort to admit when there was something wrong, or something was bothering her. Jyderin's thoughts abruptly shifted, as his thumb went to the spousal ring on his finger. He had always felt that if perhaps he'd only pressed her earlier about feeling unwell...

A doubt that hung over him like a cloud some days. Thank the stars he still had Z'dyn.

"How many turns are you? You look young enough for a Candidate, but you speak from an age far beyond your appearance. Is everything all right?"

Her apprehension had set him off. Perhaps not unusual for any Candidate when regarding a Master anything, but she had shown the resistance to enter the workroom long before he had given her a proper title alongside his name. He wasn't wearing his knots, so that gave him the indication that perhaps it was more than simple curiosity that had her walking the corridors at this candlemark. He placed her at a teen's age; she didn't seem overly uncertain of herself, but the world around her was another story. He was used to paying attention to detail; the way she hesitated, had to remind herself, seemingly, about her knots, the way she looked at him, though he couldn't precisely place the expression. Recognition? No, of course not. He might have spotted her at Western, but with as many people as there were there, who knew. Certainly not fear, he could see that, so he suspected the truth would surface soon enough.

All he had to do was be patient.

[Rii]

Sora wasn’t used to being treated with respect. For one thing, she was too young to really count for anything. She didn’t belong to an important family. She wasn’t even a craft apprentice, and apprentices counted to be about as bottom of the ladder as candidates. She’d never distinguished herself in any way, content to do her work humbly and well and avoid notice. A nothing person, she was fond of calling herself. Invisible. Funny that a nothing person would be treated like a something person by a crafter, and a Master at that!

“Then you’re a Southerner too,” Sora commented, finding an odd sort of comfort in the thought. He might not have been there since Turns ago, but he would understand things that the Northerners did not - what it was like to be surrounded by lush forests and jungles, the need to watch out for wildlife when you ventured away from Hall and Hold, even how very odd snow was. “Western’s not a bad place. Pretty well settled for not being around that long. I’ve an older brother there, he just got espoused to journeywoman harper Mirasi, not that long ago.”

He came here because he had a son here. Bright blue eyes, warm with emotion, and a crooked smile. A suspicion dawned, although one she wasn’t entirely certain of. “Is your son a rider here?” she probed hesitantly. Maybe that odd familiarity was because she’d seen his features on another face. Of course, maybe he’d decide she was rude and prying for asking, and she’d have more people telling the candidatemasters that she was insolent and unsuitable.

“I’ve fifteen Turns, sir,” she answered quietly, not knowing how to respond to the comment about sounding older than she looked. Sometimes she felt older than she looked, but the rest of the time she knew quite solidly that she was fifteen. Maybe they expected her to talk more and observe less. That seemed typical of the teens that she knew and didn’t really associate with; talk first, think later. Usually the thoughts were about themselves, and not the ripples they made in the world around them. Now that she considered it, she supposed that she really drove herself to be the exact opposite of that.

Her own blue eyes - not so bright without a smile to lighten them - slid away from his glance. Her shoulders drooped ever so slightly at the question. “Things are alright,” she offered the reassurance dully. I might be miserable, but that’s okay. “Nothing I can’t handle, anyway.”

[RhiaBlack]

Jyderin's smile broadened at the inquiry, and he flipped the hide around on the log to get the other side without having to move much. Part of him was glad it was a small one. Larger ones would have been much messier, and he wasn't about to have to concern himself with splattering gore across the clothing of anyone but himself.

"I am, and you're right. The first time we had a decent snow here - so the locals called it - I was in bed under a half dozen furs, freezing my fingers off and trying not to catch cold. They laughed and laughed at us for the longest time, but I learned the value of a good fire and a full pot of Klah, I'll tell you that much."

There was a measured laugh towards the end, and he raised his brows.

"Does he now!? Well that's good news to hear for sure. He must be so proud of you, getting espoused is such a wonderful thing most of the time. I was lucky to get my Keidia when I did. I miss her every day. With any hope, your brother will care as much about his spouse as I did mine." He nodded slightly, shifting the blade to slide with a bit more force against the skin-side of the hide.

"He is. Z'dyn of Iron Baihujinth. My last progeny on this ripe old world, I half suspect he brought me here to look for someone to give him brothers and sisters with. I'm too old for that, I keep telling him, but he'll have nothing of it. I should think there's too much work to do, I tell him he stands a better chance of making me a grandfather first, before I become a father again. No interest. He's happy with his life, and his job here, and I find comfort in having something to occupy my time and my hands. Purpose is always important, one can get their Master knots, but there is always something new to learn. Something to practice and get better at."

The response clearly surprised him. He pegged her for much older than that, at least as far as Candidates were concerned. Perhaps 18, 19 turns. The surprise showed in the shift of his expression, and the pause in the swipes across the hide.

"I had thought you older, perhaps by several turns. Most of the younger girls I see, they're so pre-occupied with boys and clothes and gossip, but you don't strike me as that sort. I believe my son calls it 'worldly'. A different perception of people and life as a whole, something he tells me one gets from a harder-lived lifestyle. Perhaps not physically, but even emotionally or somesuch. He says his Nara used to be like that. A bit quiet, guarded, didn't trust others readily, and she still doesn't. But she'll let you know if you offend her, that much is truth. She and I disagree quite adamantly about the Lord Holder for Western and his Brown. Apparently there was some big catastrophe at the Gather recently, and now he fathered a clutch. People don't seem to like that much, I can't imagine why. This Weyr doesn't strike me as having that whole Weyr versus Hold mentality."

He lifted himself off the seat, scraping the cleaned pieces and such into the bucket. Another was pulled over, a brush leaned against it, before he hauled the bucket over and dumped it in a bin. It would be sorted, the fat rendered down and the meat set out for the flits or canines and felines, without a doubt. Jobs for the kitchen drudges.

Setting the emptied bucket to one side, he went back to the log, and moved the hide from the rolled surface to a stone outcrop, sheared and sanded to flatten it. The full and covered bucket was slid over, and the brush used to slap some oddly grey-looking goop across it. With his side to Sora, he kept talking as the slopped gray gloop was brushed evenly across the freshly cleaned hide. A sponge was plucked from a bucket of water, wrung out, and he proceeded to use it to rub the stuff into the hide proper. It was a process that would be repeated several times, before he let it cure for the night.

"There is something we learn when working with animals so regularly as we do," he remarked almost softly. "Tanners work very closely with Beastcrafters, and when one spends as much time as I do around them, you learn that there are a lot of things that beasts do, that people do as well. Body language, ways of speaking without speaking. Like Runners. They'll turn their sides to you if they're at ease with you, but face you head on if they don't trust you. Z'dyn calls it the 'business end'. Herdbeasts on the other hand, they'll roll the whites of their eyes at you when they're scared. I see that in people, too, how their eyes widen when something frightens or surprises them."

The Sponge was doused and rinsed, wrung out, and he went back to rubbing gray stuff into the skin.

"Everyone has their 'tell', so to speak. Z'dyn will make eye-contact and won't smile when he dislikes someone, or he crosses his arms when he's threatened by something. One way if he's threatened, with the scarred arm over the top and his shoulders back, the other way at a relaxed manner if it's just a casual stance. He hunches his shoulders, too, when he's upset...worried about things, as it were. Just as you did just now. People will drop their gaze, also."

Jyderin continued to work as he spoke. It was a matter of coaxing it out of her, more than anything else. He didn't have to be a genius to know something was bothering her. Candidates didn't just show up outside his door all the time, at least not the sort that stopped beyond a head-in-the-door. Something was amiss with her, and he couldn't put his finger on it. Not yet.

"Your words tell me nothing is wrong, but your shoulders carry a weight that you don't seem to want to share. Which is all right, but I like to think that fourty-four turns of life have taught me that sometimes, just getting it off your chest is the best medicine for what ales you."

[Rii]

“Z’dyn? I know him,” Sora exclaimed in surprise. A rare smile lit her face for a moment. Hardly more than a heartbeat or two, and then it was gone, swallowed up by the neutral look she generally gave to the world. “Well, not know-him know him. He let me fly to the last Gather with him. Although, if I’d known he was an ironrider when I was looking for a flight there, I probably wouldn’t have asked.” Her brows drew together. Kingrider toting around a candidate. No matter that he’d volunteered to ferry people, she didn’t think she was worth that. “He was… really nice. Respectful, even though he knew I was just a candidate.”

“I’m just not like other girls, I guess. Don’t care about clothes, not much for romance or flirting.” Her disdain for the latter activity nearabout slithered from her voice. “I’m alright with listening to things, but… I don’t like to gossip. It just seems so pointless. Especially when they get to talking nasty about other people, or telling things that aren’t theirs to tell…” she shook her head. “I get tired of it, just all of it. So much of it, there’s no sharding point except to see someone else in trouble.” No sharding point in a lot of things.

She was no good at politics and no one generally asked a candidate what they thought of things anyway. “I don’t think it’s anti-Hold as much as anti-Lord D’lios,” was her observation. “Or maybe not wanting Hold and Weyr to cross over, because they’re s’posed to be separate so one can’t tell the other how to run. That’s how it goes in the teaching ballads, anyway.” She shrugged. “And apparently he’s a jerk, no matter how well he runs Western. Whatever that counts for. Shouldn’t for much, but I guess adults aren’t that much different from kids sometimes,” she stated candidly, then grimaced. She opened her mouth and her opinions ran away with her. “Sorry, sir. No offense intended.”

Unfortunately, Jyderin was much older and much, much wiser than her, as he calmly and steadily dissected her body language to point out that she was lying. Starting to cross her arms defensively, the tanner hit on Z’dyn’s defense mode and she self-consciously pressed her forearms back down against her legs, hands dangling. Her fingers flexed. It went against all of her self-imposed rules to talk about things that bothered her. Things that gave anyone an in to hurt her. But Faranth, it was even harder to get along in a strange place alone than a familiar one.

“I don’t know if I fit here,” she finally said, her voice barely audible. “Listening to other candidates, and they’re so full of fire. This drive to achieve, save the world even, do crazy things… live. And I just don’t care, mostly. I… exist. I’m fine with doing my work, doing it right - fighting Thread’s just a different work, more dangerous is all. But I don’t seem to have those kinds of dreams that the other candidates do. I was talking to one of ‘em about getting armor, like they let us wear, in case the hatching gets violent, and… I realized I wasn’t sure if it was worth it. Not the standing, standing is worth it for the folks that get dragons, or whers, whatever they’re after. That… it would be worth it, if it happened, I guess. But protecting myself…” Sora shrugged softly, her gaze lowering to her hands. “Seems like a waste. It doesn’t seem like a big loss if something happens.” To me, anyway. Sharding waste if it happened to the ones that are really living. “Makes me wonder what I am.”

Aside from in so much trouble for spilling all of that out...

[RhiaBlack]

Jyderin's laughter was rich, world-encompassing with the sheer depth of it. It almost seemed to well up from the ground beneath him, so total was his good humor.

"No offense taken, I assure you! I couldn't agree more. There are times some of the spats between the Drudges and Crafters at the Hold, by the First Egg, I had to double-check who I was hearing it from. I've met some proper children in my time, and some terribly childish adults at that, as well. It's sad, but as I've told Z'dyn time and time again, it takes all kinds to make the world work. I raised my sons, both the one I lost and the one I still have, to respect people of all walks of life. No matter how rich, how poor, how old or how young. Whether Holdless or not. You never know when something will happen, and you'll need someone. I'm blessed by the stars that he turned out as even-tempered as he did. His brother was older, much smarter when it came to all things Harper, but he had his mother's ferocity when someone crossed him. Z'dyn just...tends to turn himself off. I've only seen him anger a few times, all of them relatively mild, but I worry about this Lord Holder D'lios business. Lots of talk that he 'cheated' and what not, and the man may not be the most agreeable, but I've always known him to be honest. He looked after everyone, even when Z'dyn was hurt so badly."

Memories he didn't like recalling. Those had been hard and stressful sevendays, and months, helping his son recover from the Wher attack. Jyderin paused to toss a towel across his shoulder, which he wiped his face on before returning to his work.

"I'm not much for politics, either, to be frank. Tends to end up one of two ways - hurt feelings, or someone in deep trouble. I prefer to avoid both, it's nice to see you already have that wisdom. If it doesn't affect those close to me, I try to avoid it, at least. I suspect this time I won't be so lucky, given it's our old Lord Holder. I worry, however. Lord Holding from what I see is a full time job. If he's running the Weyr with Weyrwoman Avalle, then I ponder who's handling things back home. I may not live there any longer, but we have vested interest, of course."

He paused to look her over, purely in a critical mannerism.

"Well, I certainly see nothing wrong with you, you seem quite frank, very honest, and smart. All appealing traits that any fine suitor should be honored to find in a proper spouse, or at least something worthy of making someone sweet on you, I should think. At the end of the day, relationships aren't the cup of Klah for a lot of people, and I should think if you're Impressing to a Dragon, that'll suit you how you see it current. Z'dyn's adoration for Baihujinth, I suspect, exceeds anything he has for Nara, much as she obviously cares more for Simhath than anything else in the world. As it should be. Something I'm sure you'll learn soon enough."

The downturn of her demeanor hit home for him. The more she talked, the longer Jyderin paused, and once she'd finished he dunked the sponge back into the water with a haphazard toss. Another layer of gloop, which he let sit on the hide for a few minutes' time. Washing off his hands, he dried them on a different towel, before dragging a stool over and plopping himself down in front of her. A broom handle was grabbed, and he nudged the door closed. He was pretty sure if she was anything like he had been, she didn't want anyone walking by and overhearing.

A slight oof, as he reached to do so, before the handle was set aside back against the wall. Leaning on his knees, one hand flattened against his leather-covered knee, the other gesturing outwards as he spoke. Like Z'dyn, Jyderin used his hands to get his point across.

"Now, you and I have only just gotten introduced, but already you don't strike me as someone who's particularly worthless. Certainly not with such a good head on your shoulders as you've got. The problem I'm seeing, is that for whatever reason you don't like people getting close to you. Don't want them getting in, so to speak, and I went through that when Keidia died. I didn't want anyone to get close to me, I didn't care. Nothing else mattered to me, and then I realized I couldn't have that mentality. I couldn't do that to myself, because Z'dyn was only thirteen turns when that happened. My son needed me, and while I don't suspect from the sounds of it that you're in any sort of situation like that, I do know that it's a dark, dark place that's very hard to come back from. Especially alone."

He leaned on both knees, hands hanging between them. The world smelled like leather here. Faint hints of what smelled to be Iron, perhaps. Rusty, sort of, with the faint, barely-caught scent of blood. Natural, given the setting, of course.

"Adjusting to any new place is hard. I'm still new here, too, so I know how you feel. People don't know you yet, and if you're not giving them the chance to, that's going to make it harder, but you know what? That's all right. You've got every right to decide who you let close to you. Everyone's got that right, and I'd be lying if I told you that nobody's ever going to let you down, that you'll never get hurt. But anyone who's worth their salt? They'll keep at it, they'll break that wall down, and they'll get you to trust them. Might be tomorrow, might be a sevenday from now, might even be a half-dozen turns, but nobody stays by themselves forever. We're just not made that way. Now, I'm not saying that you're going to turn into some social butterfly and have a dozen boyfriends and millions of friends, but there's other people, I can promise you, that feel the same way about things that you do. They don't see the point in all that gossip and talk, they don't bother anybody and they want to be left well enough alone, and there's nothing at all wrong with that. There's nothing wrong with you, and it's ok to feel like you don't fit in. This is a Weyr, Sora. It's a giant melting pot, and...you know what, I'll just show you. Probably a better example anyway."

Jyderin rose, moving over towards the shelves. Where did he put it....hmmm...

Pilfering, sorting, searching...hides moved, pouches gone through...AHA! There it was.

Something in his hand, within the clenched fist, as he made his way back over to the stool he'd been sitting on. He opened his fist - within, there was a small bit of black grit. It looked like coal dust, but it was hard to tell. Within, was a golf-ball size black stone. Plain, unremarkable, dull. If someone was walking past it, it wouldn't have even registered on the radar.

"You see....people like you? People who don't make fuss, who aren't always noticed for the fact they're not flashy, or outgoing, or extroverted or whatever have you, they're like this little black stone. Wouldn't think to look twice at it, maybe if you like the color perhaps. But when you put it with other stones, other things, other people, and you put them under pressure?"

Jyderin clapped his hands together, and the dust *poofed* from around the sides of his hands. Not choking or anything, more of it just sort of fell down to the floor. He did his best to keep it off her clothes, and his hands stayed together as he lowered them towards her. He rubbed them back and forth for a bit, built up some heat and friction between them.

"You put them in situations under pressure that test them, that mold them and teach them what they're really made of. Show them where their limits are, and you push them past it?"

He opened his hands, and a small, multi-hued white Opal lingered in his palm.

"They'll surprise you. They'll show you that there's more to them than just one layer, there's more to what you can see than just face-value. That there's better stuff inside worth taking the time to appreciate, and that..." he tilted the stone, so that the light from the glows shone and reflected in dozens of colors off the surface, "...depending on how you look at it, there's always the potential to be more than what you see."

He offered the Opal towards her with that same kind, understanding expression of a man who had been through his own personal hell and lived to tell the tale.

"Don't ever think you're not worth anything. You were special enough for a Dragon to notice you, and as far as I can tell, the Dragons around here know a good egg when they see one. I can almost bet when you get yours, it's going to be everything you hoped it would be. Maybe not right off, we all take time to grow, but you'll figure it out. Z'dyn got so frustrated with Baihujinth right off. He used to write me, 'Dad, he's so arrogant, and mean, and I don't know what to do with him half the time, I just don't know how to handle him'. I told him all it would take is time, and that at the time, Baihujinth was still little. Still learning, and he needed a teacher, but you? You don't need a teacher. You already know what to do. You just have to decide who's worth it and who's not."

[Rii]

Sora relaxed fractionally at the Master tanner’s very hearty laugh, even smiling a bit herself. She couldn’t help it; it was a very merry sort of laugh. Okay, so maybe some people weren’t as full of their own importance as that rider from earlier. Maybe every possibly-wrong step wasn’t grounds for a boot right out of Hatching eligibility - out of the one thing she could think that she wanted, and wanted enough to speak up about, in the last… eight Turns. Half of her life. She nodded her appreciation of the desire to stay away from trouble and hurt. Didn’t she avoid everything just for that?

But laughter and smiles were fleeting, because she’d finally spilled one of her troubles - probably her biggest trouble - and to someone she’d known for… hardly any time at all, really. There was a wariness to the girl that was really more at home in a hunted animal than a human being. An expectation that he was going to take that rare show of trust and break it into a thousand pieces, or burn it until nothing was left but char and dust. Luckily, he was a much better kind of person, nudging the door shut to give them privacy before starting to really talk to her. Jyderin, in the short time he’d known her, had very correctly divined her aversion to letting people in. That there was a distance and emptiness that she kept… alright, maybe that wasn’t so hard to tell, given her confession of just not caring… but that it was for her protection, even if it made things harder to cope with sometimes. Sora laced her fingers together, staring at them fixedly and listening with both ears and all of her heart and mind.

He’d been in her boots, it seemed, or a pair an awfully lot like them. He’d lost someone dear to him, albeit to death instead of just the general unknown. He’d done the same thing she had, and him fully an adult… except that he’d pulled himself out of it, and she’d kept herself there because it was safer than caring. It still seemed a little like that, but it… it ached, too. It was no longer easy to trust people or express herself, but it didn’t stop her from being lonely. And it was worse in this new place. At least people back home knew her well enough to either love her anyway, even if they picked at her, or just leave her alone. She knew what to do there. She knew her place.

People don’t know you yet, and you’re not giving them the chance to… If she had a half-mark for every time she’d been told that she didn’t give people a chance, that she drove them away, that she needed to make an effort to be friendly, that it wasn’t healthy to be how she was… well. She’d be richer than a Lord Holder. Sora drew a breath. A thousand defensive responses were on the tip of her tongue, and they died at his next words. Wait. That was okay? It was… okay to be reclusive. Okay to not trust every person who crossed her path. Okay to watch and wait and think about if it was someone she wanted to be anywhere closer than arms-length.

”The people worth keeping around are the ones that understand how you are, and they accept you for that.”

Lili had said that, when she’d first really made her acquaintance with the older candidate. Funny that of the very short list of people at the Weyr that she was okay with, two had said up front upon being informed of her social shortcomings that it was absolutely fine. More than said with words - said it with their whole self, with their body language and demeanor. Two people had taken her for what she was. No pushing, no teasing, no nagging. No making her feel like she was strange or wrong. She might not entirely have trusted them yet, but they seemed content to wait.

There’s nothing wrong with you.

Sora looked up at Jyderin finally. Her chin trembled for a moment before she firmed her jaw, but there was a suspiciously liquid gleam in her eyes. “Nothing…?” It was the first gleam of hope she’d felt… well, since the Gather, when she’d said her so longs to her parents, before they went back home. They’d wished her well then. They’d been excited for her, to finally see her with even a tiny spark of interest in something, and she’d felt like maybe she could finally make them happy. Before, of course, all of the troubles of the past season had closed in over her head, and started to make her question herself. Because when it all boiled down, she was just a miserable, lonely girl walking the same ragged edge of life that so many did, but without the safety nets that so many took for granted.

Curious as to what he meant by showing her, Sora obediently looked at the small, black stone. Not much to look at, she had to agree, although she was curious if it was black all the way through or… a poof of black dust that made her blink, although she feared nothing for the drab clothing she wore… or something more. When the tanner spread his hands to show her the gemstone he held, she blinked again, her eyes widening. Hesitantly, she took the stone, tilting it this way and that to catch the different-hued specks of color she could see as she did.

“You really think that… that I’m something special,” her voice was soft, but plenty audible in the quiet room. It was clearly something that she had trouble believing. That she wasn’t a nothing person. That she was worth something more than another body to drudge through life and be forgotten if she died. Sora rubbed her thumb against the opal, cleaning away a little bit of leftover dust. “I’m not perfect, like this stone,” she warned quietly. “I guess I’m… I’m afraid a dragon will be looking for something with less flaws. And… it’s not so easy to wipe the dust off. I can’t change that fast.”

She chewed her lower lip, then glanced up at the man sitting on the stool in front of her. “But… but I might be willing to… to start letting certain people try. Bit by bit.”

[RhiaBlack]

"Nothing at all," Jyderin confirmed, patting her knee before he pushed himself up to head back to his table, and pick up the sponge from the bucket again.

"Everyone has flaws, my dear Sora. Everyone. Even me. My son has plenty of them. If you ever speak with him, you'll notice something different between us. He speaks with a slur, a rather bad one that he's had to adjust to and overcome, but it will never go away. Part of it is his scars, the other part is his upbringing. His mother was a Drudge - she never learned to speak 'properly', and Z'dyn spent far more time with her than he did with me. My eldest son was taught from a Harper, but Z'dyn was content to work the fields as his mother had the kitchens. He's very simple, and while he's not stupid, he never learned to read or write. Having to read things frustrates him, but he's been learning. Baihujinth has pushed him, and he came to me a few turns back, before they called him to Fort. He was so upset, and I kept asking him 'Zeke, what's wrong?'. Zeke is his nickname, we've called him that since he was small, mind. I harped on him, and I wouldn't let him alone, because it was easy to tell that something was wrong."

Jyderin squeezed a rinse out of the sponge, before going back at the hide again. There was a pause, as he recalled it, and there was a flicker of anger that crossed the older man's face, before it was just as quickly stuffed away.

"He finally breaks down, and tells me that some SubQueen rider here - he refused to tell me what color, or who it was - had poked fun at him. He says indirectly, I tell him all the time that there is no indirect way to make fun of someone when you are speaking with them. They had told him that if he could not speak properly, how did he expect to call flight movemements during threadfall? How did he expect people to understand him? He was so desperately worried that something was wrong with him, that he was broken, and it took me ages to convince him that there was nothing wrong with him. I understand him fine, and he's gone to great lengths to make himself much more comprehensible. He still slurs terribly when he's exhausted, as I imagine most people don't speak at all straight when they're that tired, but he made Wingsecond for a time before they transferred him to Fort. I was so proud, I still am. My youngest son, he's gone from a Field Drudge, to near-dead in a cotroom in a newly established Hold, to scarred but still standing, to an Ironrider in a reputable Weyr. I'm so proud of him I can't contain myself some days. To most people, he's only remarkable because of the knots on his shoulders, perhaps some would find his scars attractive, his features perhaps, but to me? It is not what's outside that counts. It's what's inside."

He paused, looking at the hide.

"Though I imagine that's difficult to say, given my profession, hmm?"

He chuckled softly, and shook his head, swiping the last of the goop off the hide and leaving another coating to sit upon it. He did five, usually. Five coats, and then it was staked to cure and dry for the night. Then another round in the water bin, before it would dry and be ready to cut and make things from.

Jyderin headed back over, and planted himself back down on the stool with a soft grunt. He'd been on his feet all day, sitting down was a luxury he didn't often receive the chance to do.

"Of course I think you're someone special. You certainly wouldn't be here of all places if you weren't, though there are plenty of people who are something special, who aren't Dragonriders or Wherhandlers. Weyrfolk, Crafters, all those ilk as well. Dragons don't just Search anyone, it takes a certain spark, and for whatever reason? They saw that in you." Again, he leaned on his knees. "From what I understand, Dragons will not choose anyone who is crippled. And I mean physically, not otherwise. Even at that? Z'dyn's scars on his one arm, they effected his ability to hold things marginally. His other arm has always been stronger, but he's been working on that. Baihujinth picked him anyway, even with his scars, even with his apprehension about people here. Even though he was sweet on another boy here, which took me by surprise. That was another thing, he was so upset when they transferred Va'an, and his Viridian. Draketh, I think was his name. Bah. Anyways. I've never Impressed a Dragon, never will. I'm too old. But the truth of the matter is, fate never gives you anything you can't handle. It might make you -think- you can't, but you can. You will. You're a very strong young lady, I can tell that from speaking to you for the last what...three-quarters of a candlemark or so, I gather. You have a ridiculously strong self-will, you are completely aware of where you are in any given situation, and you understand that life is not all sweetrolls and roses. You're already far ahead other peers of your age, and I suspect that your Dragon will be something that both empowers you, gives you courage, and helps you face whatever it is that has dragged you down to this point. The point where you believe that you aren't worth anything. Always remember, that you may think you aren't anything to someone, but to someone? You are the absolute world."

He smiled at the comment about the dust, and winked.

"You remember I had to rub it between my hands for a little while, hmm? It takes time, Sora. Don't rush yourself, don't rush the situation. One step at a time, one moment at a time, and when life decides you're ready, then you're ready. Everyone moves at their own pace, it took me a few turns to figure it out on my own. We moved to Western, and when Z'dyn was mauled, I learned how strong I could be. Tragedy is the strongest motivator for self-change, the biggest empowerment for finding one's own inner strength. I don't think it will take something that drastic to change your perspective on things, you've already got the grasp of it well enough. It will for some people, though, and I suspect you'll be a rock for someone when they didn't think they needed anyone. We find friends in strange places, often when we least expect it."

Jyderin laid his hands open against his knees, and shrugged.

"If you feel comfortable with that, then by all means. I tell Z'dyn all the time, he inherited my sixth sense for knowing when someone's trouble and when someone's not. But I taught him to let people make their own impressions regardless of what he thinks. Nobody is infallable, nobody is perfect, and if they claim to be, well then that's a flaw right there. I know some self-absorbed people who, as much as they preen and brag, they still go home to someone every night that they care very much about. We all have those close to our hearts, and that doesn't happen all at once. It takes time. So if you don't think you're sure about someone? That's all right. If they're worth your time, they'll understand - even if you don't tell them anything about it."

He leaned back on his knees, and raised his brows.

"Are we feeling better yet?"

[Rii]

Resting her elbows on her knees once more, Sora propped her chin in one hand, still toying with the stone in her other. The wariness in her blue eyes softened a bit as she listened to Jyderin talk about his son. There was a lot of love between them, that was easy to see. Z’dyn never would have run off without telling his father, she reflected bitterly. He never would have lied about sending word, either. There was something in that thought, she decided, that she wanted to mull over and unpack later. She tucked it away in the back of her mind for a future think; she wanted to pay attention to the tanner.

It seemed even ironriders were not immune to being imperfect, picked on, unsure of themselves. Maybe even queenriders weren’t - and that was another thought that she’d save for another day. She certainly was getting a lot to think about tonight, when her head had been full of thoughts already. But these were different thoughts, new ones that she hadn’t had a chance to chew over until all that was left was a bitter taste. “Some people are just plain mean,” she observed in that jaded tone that should have been reserved for someone at least twenty Turns older. “Like it makes them bigger to make someone else feel small.” Maybe that rider who’d threatened her in the kitchen was like that. She still could feel that nothing person feel he’d given her, the one that she usually gave to herself.

She refused to complain, though. She hated tattling, especially over something that… That wasn’t important, that only concerns me, that I can deal with myself. Her eyes widened slightly. That thinking again, the kind that Jyderin was gently pointing out that she didn’t have to hold because it wasn’t necessarily right. Alright, so she wasn’t going to run out this second and complain that a rider had pulled rank on her. She might never, because she liked it when she successfully coped with something herself. On the other hand, maybe if she was completely in over her head, she… did deserve help?

That was such a massive challenge to her current paradigms that it was hard to even start wrapping her head around it. That she deserved help, that perhaps even her dragon would be the one to help her, as she helped back - well, somehow she doubted that she’d ever have to face what had dragged her down head-on, but other problems. Or other facets of the same problem. Maybe they’d even be patient about it. Patient people were hard to come by.

Which to her, made Jyderin a rare person indeed. She nodded at his advice. Somehow, with the enjoinders that it was alright to take things slow - at her own snail pace, picking and choosing as she went - it made his words seem more possible. Not completely impossible, at least; if anyone had told her a few candlemarks ago that she’d be talking so easily to someone and maybe even considering that it was possible to trust people, she would have thought they were eating glows, or something equally crackdusted. She would have told them that no, she didn’t trust people, period, end of story. And now it was more an ‘I don’t know… maybe… someday?’

“I don’t know that I feel comfortable with it, exactly,” Sora admitted. “It just seems slightly less impossible.” And maybe even if she didn’t have that fire in her that she saw in other people, she at least had some lingering spark. Her lips curved slowly into another of her rare, genuine smiles, and she extended her hand, offering him back his opal in her open palm. “I do, some, anyways. I guess I have a lot to think about.”

[RhiaBlack]

Jyderin lifted his hand and pointed at the opal.

"No, no. That's yours, you keep it. If you ever start feeling down, you look at that, and you remember what I told you. I don't take things back that I give out, it's bad luck. My wife was buried with her ring on, that's how serious I am about it. If anything, if you want to be rid of it, give it away to someone else."

It was a somewhat double-edged sword. He didn't take her for the sort to throw out something pretty like that, especially when there was some measure of meaning behind it, which meant if she wanted to give it away, she would have to *gasp* talk to someone else. Muahahahaha. Hey, old teeth were still sharp ones, too, you know.

"I like to look at it as people who are mean to others, always seem to have something they don't like about themselves. Some of my best mates were those that started off picking on me. Depending on how mean they are, that's how bad whatever it is that's bothering them has to be. Some people are so...insecure about their own place in this world, about their relationships relative to others, that they feel the need to belittle and rag on anyone they perceive as threatening. I'd say it's even to a point sometimes that they think you're better than them, so they try everything they can to make it seem like they're better than you. 'You' being respective in this sense, that is."

He shrugged slightly, leaning back to check the hide before re-settling down against the stool.

"It's probably going to take some time to come to terms with, I would think. Like I said, it's not something that's going to change overnight, and at the end of the day you have to decide if you -want- to change. By all rights, the only person who has control over your own destiny is you. You decide if you want to let things bother you or not, and you control who you want to let in. It's all right. We're mortal, we're Human, and that's how life is. If it was easy, nobody would struggle, nobody would have stories, and it would be rather boring indeed, even if it is complicated sometimes."

He pushed himself up, the manner she spoke seeming to allude that she was about to depart. He didn't mind the company, it was nice to have someone to talk to. He didn't want to assume either way.

"Remember. Nothing is impossible. You just have to come at it from a different direction, sometimes it just takes another set of eyes or ears, or mind, to figure it out. This Weyr, from what I hear, is immune to the concept of 'normal', which is always nice. There's always something to talk about, or do, or see, no matter where you come from or who you are. If you ever need to talk, no matter the candlemark, you can find me here. If I'm not here, I'm probably out grabbing something to eat, or talking to Z'dyn, and I'll be back shortly after I leave. You're welcome to stay as long as you like, having the company is rather nice. I don't get many visitors beyond people asking for things."

[Rii]

Sora’s brows rose in surprise - she hadn’t expected he’d meant her to keep the pretty thing - but she curled her fingers shut around it anyways. Already it was quite possibly the most precious thing she had, save Whisper, just for the meaning behind it. There’s nothing wrong with you. It was something that no one had bothered to tell her before. Something she’d desperately needed to hear, without knowing that it was something she needed.

“Doesn’t everyone have something they don’t like about themselves, though?” she inquired curiously. The idea that people could be mean because of some personal problem wasn’t a new one for her, but she wasn’t sure that it meant she should automatically excuse them for it. “It seems like if they’re going out of their way to be nasty, you’d avoid them.” She was her own example. When people had teased her for her secretive nature back home, she’d found that a few bitterly insightful words about their own habits shut them up - and also made enemies out of them. That was alright; she’d never subscribed to the belief of keeping her friends close and her enemies closer. People who actively disliked her usually stayed farther away, so she made them dislike her.

Usually. Some people were immune to her off-putting behavior, and really, it puzzled her when she was prickly and reclusive and someone didn’t seem to care. It made her curious about them, and what was special about them that they weren’t driven off by her space-making tactics. If Jyderin was right, they saw - or guessed, at least - that there was something worth seeing beneath the unprepossessing surface. She wasn't entirely sure if it was worth seeing, but it made her think.

Maybe she wasn’t sure if she was entirely worth protecting. It was one of many things that couldn’t change overnight. But she wasn’t going to find out one way or another unless she stayed alive long enough to see. And that meant she was going to have to not get killed by any upset wherets or dragonets. Which in turn meant that she was actually going to have to ask him about the armor she’d been wavering over. It shouldn’t have been a big deal; she knew at least a handful of candidates who had already gone to see about getting the allowed leather armor since Kalesk and Callistath had clutched at the same time. It was, of course, the asking part that was sticking her. “Jyderin, I know you’ve got plenty of other work,” she hesitated, rubbing the stone between her hands. “But… would it be possible to get armor? Not full, just… to cover the vital bits.” If injury happened, it happened. She probably ought to try not get her guts ripped out or something like that, though.

The open invitation to come when she liked and stay if she pleased was a comforting one, because she already knew he wouldn’t hold it against her if she didn’t show up regularly or talk much. She didn’t want to admit it, but she rather suspected she’d appear here rather than hiding on the candidate barracks roof, once in a while, anyway. Sora smiled again. “Thanks, sir.”

A soft rush of displaced air was the only signal of another arrival, a small cyan flit with a mottled light blue hide appearing over her head. The candidate looked up, her brows raising. “So now you show up,” she commented, the words gruff even though her tone was much softer. “Where’ve you been this time, Whisper?” Landing on the girl’s shoulder, the cyan offered a quiet, noncommittal hum. The corner of Sora’s mouth hooked in a half-smirk of humor. “Of course, you won’t tell.” Mindful that not everyone liked firelizards, she looked back to the tanner. “She won’t get in your way, sir. I can tell her to go away, if you like.”

[RhiaBlack]

"I always have time for armaments. Most of my other stuff is clothing, saddles, straps and what not, so it can wait. How soon do you think you'll need it? I've got some other pieces that need repairing from a couple of Hatchings past, and I think the other sets have all been given out, so I'll have to start something from scratch. No pun intended."

His lips curved in a slight smirk at the firelizard, and he paused to look the little creature over.

"A fitting name, no less," he nodded towards the little flitter with a smile. "My son keeps telling me I need one of those, I wouldn't know the first thing about them. Are they similar to dragons?"

He shifted, moving over to the shelves with already-tanned hides and leather. Jyderin had an oddly fluid mannerism to most of his movements - there was the practiced hesitance occasionally at age and the over-use of muscles in his back and shoulders, but otherwise he was deceptively quick for his size. Someone used to chasing children as much as he was chasing various intended beasts for hide-acquiring.

Jyderin's attention was drawn as he checked and tested the thickness of various pieces.

"Everyone does, yes. Even me. We all have our demons, so to speak. Things we don't like about ourselves, but some people have a specific inability to handle that themselves. They project it in the form of meanness to other people around them. One of those 'I can't deal with me, you shouldn't be able to deal with me either' sort of things. Front and back, or just front? And legs, arms, and torso, or just the torso?"

[Rii]

((Insert arbitrary date-setting here…))

She smiled, lifting a hand to rub the top of her firelizard’s head. “Yeah… Whisper’s always been quiet. One of her clutch-siblings clawed her open and she just came over to me with one little chirp to ask for food. I couldn’t exactly shoo her off to the next person, could I?” Aww, someone had a soft spot beneath the prickliness. She nodded at his question. “Sort of. There’s a bond, but it’s not nearly as strong. Anyone can get a firelizard, you just feed them as soon as they hatch. Feed them regularly, oil their hides as they grow - she’s about a season old, she has plenty of growing left to do. I guess dealing with them with training and discipline depends on personality. Whisper’s easy - really quiet, likes to go off on her own and just watch things, then she comes back when she’s ready. Never gets in trouble. We get along fine.”

Her firelizard: easy to understand. They were two peas in a pod, except the firelizard was more serene. People: not so easy to understand, and she listened intently to his thoughts on what made mean people mean. It was an interesting perspective. “But that’s something you can control, isn’t it? And they just don’t want to, because it makes them feel better.” She was starting to get uncomfortable feelings about her tendency to get brusque when she didn’t want to talk to people.

Sora considered the question of how soon. “Considering when they clutched… two sevendays from now, earliest? Two and a half, three at the latest.” Although obviously, they probably didn’t want to go by at the latest. “Is that doable? For just torso, front and back?” She tilted her head, considering. “Maybe for my forearms too, if there’s time. They teach us to drop and shield our head,” she accompanied the words with a demonstrative hunching and bringing her arms up to protect her face and neck, “if a dragonet or wheret attacks us, so it seems they might get bit or slashed.”

She lowered her arms again and watched his rummaging in fascination. He was quick. “Is there anything I can do to help? Since you’re doing this for me.” She paused, then admitted, “Not that I know much of anything about your work…”

[RhiaBlack]

Jyderin nodded at the discussion of Firelizards. He had to admit, the idea of owning one perplexed him. Made him think. From what Sora mentioned, they seemed like slightly more sentient dogs, in a sense. Loyal, bonded, but with their own mindset that could be influenced by attitude and action.

"That makes sense. It - she, my apologies - she, seems like a rather perfect fit for you. I imagine I would have my hands full with one, I see others around here who have three or four. Z'dyn's weyrmate, she has four. Nasty little things from what I'm told, I've yet to sit down with her for longer than a few minutes. Z'dyn says she sends them after her father because she dislikes him. A sad thing, really, it's all right to dislike someone, but when you start influencing others - firelizards, dragons, or otherwise - to do the same, it seems a bit unfair. Perhaps even a bit bully-ish. I've tried to sit down and talk to him about it, but he doesn't seem to want to suggest it to her. Tells me that he thinks she won't listen, that she's very stern and set in her ways. I told him so was his Iron, if I remember right. People change, especially when it's someone they care about involved."

He rifled through another section of hides, finally settling on a thicker, layered piece of herdbeast hide. Nodding to himself, he grabbed a chalk pencil, and moved over towards her.

"Won't take me long once I start, most of it is pretty straight-forward. A couple cuts, some hemming, adding some straps. It may be a bit big on you, just for the sake of making it so other Candidates can use it after you're done. I'll stay up for it, the sooner it's finished, the earlier I can make sure it fits you proper."

He had been mulling over the response to being able to control one's emotions. Control being mean to others, and he didn't know right off-hand how to really word it so that it made sense. But he always made the effort.

"For some people, it seems like they find some sort of solace in forcing people away. Making sure nobody gets close enough to get hurt, or hurt them, even. Might even say they don't trust themselves so much that they don't want there to be any doubt or chance that they fail. They will themselves to do it anyways, to get into the habit, so that even when someone tries to change them, it doesn't feel right."

There it was. The first show of hesitation since he'd been in the same room with her. Uncertainty, a measure of it so strong that it more than foretold he had experience with that. Perhaps more personal than he wanted to admit.

"For others, it seems like just a means to impose their wills over someone else. Like it makes them feel more powerful when everyone who knows them, hates them. You know what they say. Misery loves company."

[Rii]

“I’m pretty happy with Whisper,” Sora admitted, although there was an odd flicker of wariness in her eyes again. Emotion. Not safe- oh, shut up, you. Jyderin wouldn’t use something she was fond of against her. He probably wouldn’t even make a big deal out of her expressing it. Probably. “Never thought I would have one, really, but people just… let them hatch for anyone, here. Mostly people who don’t want any more for themselves.” She gave a faint grin. “I’ve heard of a couple people with a half-dozen or more. Be an awful lot of work.”

Her brows drew together at his mention of flit attacks. “That… doesn’t seem very responsible. If he really got hurt, there’d be trouble over them, right? We got warned about keeping our pets under control or we’d get the punishment for it.” Smoothing a hand over her head, she rumpled her braided hair, then shrugged. “Maybe it’s different for riders, though, what do I know.”

She slid off of her stool, standing up straight to let him measure and mark as he pleased. “I… thanks, sir.” Maybe normally she would have protested him dropping everything and working late over something for a mere candidate, but she was starting to get the feeling it would be like protesting against a force of nature - a waste of air and effort, if she cared to expend it. She did not. While he worked, and talked, she listened.

Ooh. Yep. Ouch. Sora winced slightly at the discourse on finding solace in forcing people away. That was definitely hitting a little too close to home; it was something she was very much guilty of, even if he wasn’t specifically talking about her. That flicker of hesitation was almost missed, but it made her wonder if maybe once, he hadn’t been more like her than she’d previously thought.

Who could tell. She wasn’t about to pry.

“I guess that makes sense,” she said slowly. Interesting; she could possibly boil it down to being mean to reduce the power others have over you and being mean to increase the power you have over others. Probably a little more complex than that in reality, but it was definitely food for thought and observation. “And when you don’t respond to it how they expect, it foils whatever reason they had to act how they did.” That certainly seemed like a very mature concept to her. Heck, now that she thought about it, she did that, when she refused to respond emotionally to people’s advances, positive or negative.

[RhiaBlack]

"Mmmhmm," Jyderin remarked, a chalk pencil wrapped in leather stuck between his teeth, as he used a rather sharp knife to etch out the marks he had made - once he was done measuring, that was. He certainly wasn't about to do that while it was still on her, that was foolish. It would take some hemming, rolling the edges, perhaps some layering, but it was easy enough work to get done.

His features shifted, and he checked the marks against the rest of his measurements before he settled his attention against the work at hand. The pencil was removed from his teeth, and held resting against his fingers as he thumbed through several layers.

"If he reported it, perhaps. Given it's his child who's doing it, I should think that it's either he doesn't think it's that much a bother, or that he simply doesn't want to make trouble. Z'dyn is displeased with the whole ordeal, and it's starting to get to the point I'm sorely tempted to mention something to the Weyrwoman about it. Granted, it may not be my place, but I've told Z'dyn at least a half dozen times that I will not suffer in-laws that find their amusement with causing harm, no matter how remedial or small the issue may be. She'll think it's nothing large until something legitimately happens to him. Maybe one of them feels those feelings from her, and pops his eye, or something. We will see how small it is then. The girl is foolish to act that way. It's asking for trouble."

He sighed slightly, scratching his head before the pencil was used to make several notations of distance across the sides and front of the soon-to-be chestplate.

"Frankly, I imagine many could hold it against the Firelizards, but in the long run, it's their training and their bonded who are responsible. Just as when a Dragon or a Wher does something wrong, they hold the Riders and Handlers accountable, so I hear." He shrugged. "Z'dyn has insisted that I get one, but in all truths I can wait. It isn't as if I don't have tons of work to catch up on here anyway, I won't have much time until then to look after anything."

He nodded as she got it.

"Precisely. They act out, they expect you to act in one way, because most of the others they've gone and done the same thing to, they've reacted all marginally in one of perhaps a handful of ways. So in that regard, when you break the mold, so to speak, they find themselves not really sure how to react. So it's you who have the upper hand in such situations as that."