All that Glitters is Gold (Knight, Show)

[purnip]

Such a dreadful day. Lyam sat on the benches casually watching Dragonriders whiz through the skies on their majestic beasts. He had fully expected there to be more men and women on the ground; people he could talk to. When no one is about to hear what you have to say or impart information, loneliness becomes a cancer in remission. He stood, every now and then, pretending to have his attention taken by something in the distance, only to fool himself. His eyes had nowhere to focus but up.

It didn't matter the color, you know. When dragons are high above you as they were above Lyam, they all appear the same size and of the same standing. Only their colors and what you make of them distinguish them from one another. Lyam noted this with little interest. He'd rather ask the riders themselves the sort of questions he pondered rather than letting them sit in his head to gather dust.

He had already gotten himself acquainted with most, if not all, of the drudges that cared for the Candidates at the Barracks. For the most part they were in better spirits than those at his home, Fort Hold. Something ado with serving the heroes of the sky. They had some interesting information themselves. One was the mother of a Weyrling at Dalibor. She had told Lyam this and that about dragons, most facts he had learned from his uncle. What he really found fascinating was their intelligence and their mannerisms. Such complicated beasts. They were more flawless than the riders that they chose. Lyam did wonder why dragons formed bonds with humans, after all, they could exists without each other pre-Impression.

Restlessness plagued Lyam. The not-so-young Candidate got to his feet a last time and decided if the riders in the sky weren't coming down any time soon, he would simply return later in the day. He could be using his time a lot more efficiently. As he left the benches, carefully making his way down the steps (for it would be foolhardy to trip his way down), he reached into his pocket to pull out a piece of dried meat one of the kitchen workers had given him before lunch. He had this off habit of chewing on tough foods when he was doing nothing productive. Had he not been as attentive as he was, he'd be some kind of overweight.

His reason for visiting the Bowl was not purely for the socializing. He was hoping to hear of at the least, a firelizard hatching. He had heard about these creatures quite often back at Fort Hold and had seen some of the higher ranking members at the hold sporting them. Very intelligent creatures, paling to dragons, but smarter than your average feline. Lyam couldn't be around a feline for long without his eyes watering and his sneezes starting up. Nothing like fur to irritate the senses. A firelizard was not just a reliable partner, but Pern's own information super-highway. If you have a message to send, a firelizard can simply pop in and out of between to deliver. So many doors would open to Lyam that one couldn't imagine. Even back at Fort Hold his silver tongue wasn't enough to persuade an egg to roll his way. Firelizards were still a luxury.

As he neared the bottom of the stands, Lyam spared what he thought would be his last glance up for the afternoon. The air was cool and bright with promise, but only time will tell if this hour of solitude was worth it. He hoped so.

[4horseshowgirl4]

As was typical for them at this time of day, L'ven and Valleth were slicing through the skies far from the Weyr. Valleth had very nearly reached his full length, with perhaps another foot or two to grow, but it was obvious from his lean, youthful musculastructure that the dragon was still in his adolescence. He was a good-sized Bronze as it was, and he would only continue to get bigger, much to L'ven's joy. The young man had been nearly fastidious in his care for his mindmate, and it was paying off, though Valleth had been predisposed to being large anyway. L'ven had great and ambitious plans for both of them, and as Valleth flew onward, gliding back towards the Weyr, his mind was clicking away rapidly, laying down schedules and maps, lists and timetables. L'ven was no schemer, no charismatic charmer, but he planned ahead well, strategies and logic coming easily to him.

That day, L'ven had pushed Valleth through climbs and dives in the air; the steep climbs building muscle, the careful dives, precision. Valleth had only been amused by L'ven's deliberate and detailed orders for the exercise, but he went along with it willingly, as he always did, as the Bronze was as eager as L'ven to be the strongest pair in the Weyr, even if he lacked L'ven's initiative. All this training would only pay off when they began wing work, and especially when he was old enough to Chase (though he kept that last thought shielded away from L'ven; no need to worry His!) However, they were done for the afternoon, and Valleth lazily glided, hardly rushing, back to their home. His shoulder muscles were aching pleasantly from the work, and he was thinking he would make L'ven rub the sweet oil into his hide when they got back, long though that job now was with Valleth's size.

They passed over the lip of the Weyrbowl, and Valleth fell into a graceful, shallow dive, heading towards their weyr. L'ven's body slipped back naturally to keep his balance with his dragon's; it was now second nature to follow Valleth's movements with all this practice, despite how awkward it had been at first. It was apparent that, though they were Weyrlings, this was nothing new to them. However, Valleth pulled out of the dive before they reached their weyr, moving off to the side and away from the rocky Weyr walls, heading towards the lake. Thankfully, the Bronze wasn't agile enough to dart sideways fast enough to unseat L'ven, but, all the same, the Weyrling was caught by surprise.

{What?} L'ven asked, probing the Bronze's mind and following his attention. Valleth did not bother to hide his target, a young man down in the Weyrbowl. From this distance, it was impossible to recognize him. {Who is he?} L'ven asked sharply, a bit bewildered as to why his dragon suddenly developed the urge to go chasing after random people. Now, random female dragons, absolutely, but this was out of character for Valleth. I don't know,

[/color] Valleth said, pulling up and backwinging, preparing to land. {Explain!} L'ven demanded. You have, like, no friends![/color] Valleth said, touching down lightly several dragonlengths from Lyam. You need to go make some! It'll be good for you![/color] L'ven sighed in exasperation as Valleth kneeled down for him to get off. {I am not just walking up to a random person I don't know and chumming with him because you told me to!} L'ven said, obstinately refusing to get off. {Now, back to the weyr!} Mine, you are making me look silly, kneeling for so long. Now, get off and go introduce yourself or I'll make sure to win the next male-ridden female that Rises.[/color]

L'ven hesitated before unstrapping himself and sliding off. He knew Valleth would just love to have an excuse to Chase Rhyolith or Vediameth or even Gyth, and if this was all he had to do to prevent that, awkward though as it probably was going to be, he was glad to do so. Valleth rumbled in satisfaction, padding curiously after His as L'ven walked towards Lyam. "Um, hello," L'ven said as he reached the other. He didn't recognize him, and his knots said that he was a Candidate. L'ven had learned to know many of them by sight, as they often worked on the same chores the Weyrlings did, but this one was unfamiliar. "I'm, um, L'ven, and that's Valleth," he said, fingers unconsciously playing with his own knots marking him as a mere Weyrling. "I know this is kinda unexpected, us just plopping down and talking to you, but it's his fault," L'ven grumbled, referring to the Bronze, who yawned pointedly. "So, who're you?"[/right][/font]

[purnip]

It was as if his unsent prayers had been answered at literally the last minute. As Lyam was just about to exit the Bowl and make his way towards the Barracks again, he had heard a shifting of the wind that caught his attention, and that unmistakable flash of bronze hide.

Lyam had never seen a Bronze dragon this close before. Though it was still a few dragonlengths away, all the same on the ground it looked larger than how it had in the sky. He remembered having spotted it in his earlier quiet musing, paying just as much attention to it as the Pink that shared the skies above. He could better see why these dragons were among the 'Kings'. He always had a bit more respect for the first colors of dragons, as far as the lore on Ruth, the first White. They were the pioneers, in his mind. All the legends he'd hear were normally about them. Watching this Bronze dragon land neatly upon the ground, kneeling down to let his rider dismount...it felt as if Lyam was watching something foreign take place that he couldn't possibly understand. His eyes were mostly focused on Valleth's multifaceted ones. The myriad of colors were nearly hypnotizing. He could only guess that the dragon was communicating with his rider; a conversation that no one can butt into. He could hear what the man was saying. Not well, but he could detect a hint of irritability.

The rider finally dismounted his kneeling Bronze and appeared to be approaching. Lyam waved regardless. Whether or not he was the intended target, the Candidate still wished to accomplish something from this wait. It wasn't as if Thread was falling just now. Wasting a rider's time, Weyrling or not, was worth its weight in marks.

"Hello!" he shouted, not too loud or overpowering. He felt he used only the necessary vocal range. L'ven was shortly before him with his reply. It sounded as if, judging by the rider's introduction, that the dragon indeed convinced his Mine to greet him. To his explanation, Lyam kept himself looking confident as well as humble. He knew where he stood and until he established himself more concretely in this Weyr, he needed to show respect for the higher ranks. Lyam quickly learned what the knots meant. L'ven was a Weyrling.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bronzerider L'ven. My name is Lyam," he said in one of the more respectful tones he could muster. Oh, it wasn't difficult. This was the time, it was. For now he was but a lowly Candidate and he might stay that way for who knows how long, but once he rose in rank his respect can turn into whatever it'd like. Whatever is more convenient and rewarding. He gestured to Valleth shortly, as to not appear accusatory in the slightest. The shortest gestures were the sweetest. "A fine dragon you have there. I've never seen one quite like it."

Though lying was not beneath him at all (there are times when it can be most useful if you know when it's best to lie, if it's worth it, and to remember to follow through), he wasn't sucking up to L'ven as much as you'd imagine. His uncle's dragon, Amadarith, was a Blue and about half the size of Valleth. To see the same creature but of much larger proportions and a different manner about himself was impressive indeed. So it was a lot easier for Lyam to sound genuine. Granted, it's never all that hard either.

[theknightwhosaysni]

Dark blue eyes glittered with annoyance as Tylar lounged indolently in the stands - he'd just been kicked out of the kitchen for bothering those who worked there, and he honestly didn't feel like getting in trouble, so here he was...

Far beneath him another boy sat, though Tylar couldn't for the life of him remember if he was a Candidate or what, and therefore didn't feel like going down to 'chat.' If they had nothing in common, it would be a complete waste of time to even bother to attempt to bring a conversation into the picture. It would fall apart within minutes if the boy had nothing to talk about that Tylar himself knew, and it was with that reasoning that he decided not to go down and talk with the boy, and instead continued to sit quietly in the upper levels of the sands.

To think that one day this would be his - when he Impressed, though Tylar refused to think that he might not Impress, though his sister might remind him of the fact that he might not continuedly. Lazily, he lifted a hand to brush a lock of hair from his face as he stretched slightly, his eyes seeking a familiar form in the shapes that flew far up in the air, blinking out of sight often, leaving Tylar to wonder where the dragons where going, if they were aiming for a Hold or another Weyr or what...

His eyes had begun to drift shut, following that sleepy line of thought when the dragon swept in for a landing. Tylar hoisted himself onto one elbow, and leaned forward with interest glimmering in his eyes, watching as the Rider dismounted rapidly, ambling over to begin to converse with a boy who had been about to exit the Bowl - and while he thought of boys, where was the one who'd been in the stands below him?

Tylar leaned forward a little further, risking falling to examine the empty stands that stretched below him. Yes, they were empty. So where did the boy who'd been lurking beneath him go? Tylar didn't have long to contemplate this, he'd overbalanced, and he rolled forward, smacking into the hard ground beneath him with a loud 'Oof!' A small cloud of dust rose around his nose, leading to several violent sneezes on his part.

"By the Shard," Tylar growled, scrambling to his feet and beginning to dust off his clothing, "Could you have managed to fall in a more spectacular way?" He was done scolding himself, and by the look of the front of his clothes - Tylar craned his head fruitlessly to examine the back of his clothing, which he couldn't see at all - and by the looks of it, his clothing was clean enough.

He gave the shirt a final, rapid dusting off, and began to stalk in a regal manner down from the stands, his gaze settling on the Rider and boy beside him, and from this angle, he could tell the boy was a Candidate - Lyam, was it? Tylar made a mental note to ask around later, and that the dragon was a bronze. He'd suspected it before, but now he was certain. There was no mistaking such a metallic hide for anything but that of a bronze...

The conversation had begun without him, he could tell, but that wasn't going to last for long. Tylar allowed himself time for a slow smirk, before adding his two cents to the conversation. "An interesting dragon..." he said with a hint of curiosity to his voice, "I'm Tylar, a Candidate of this Weyr. It's nice to meet you." his rapid fire conversation style had already begun to show itself, and Tylar gave another slight smirk - the incident of tumbling already forgotten - and waited impatiently, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his gaze on the conversing pair, silently urging them to stop paying attention to themselves and allow him to butt in to their conversation. After all, nothing in this Weyr was off limits, not to him.

[4horseshowgirl4]

L'ven hunched his shoulders and wrapped his wherhide flight jacket more snugly around his lean torso as the winter air blew a gust of frigid wind across them. L'ven made a faint sound of annoyance. What was he doing out here in the cold when he could be hiding in the warmth of his weyr, doing something productive? Winters here weren't as brutal as they were up north, at Fort, but they were still unpleasant. At least in the summer he could jump in the lake to cool off. You are socializing!

[/color] Valleth interrupted, his mind voice rumbling in amusement, though he refused to appear as anything but his dignified and regal self outside. I know that is a foreign concept to you, but you should really try to be pleasant, Rhyolith is looking more and more beautiful as the minutes go by...[/color] There was nothing more that L'ven wanted to do than smack his dragon a good one across the nose, but he knew that would have very little effect at Valleth's size, and the Bronze liked to have control as much as L'ven did.

L'ven probably should have offered a hand to shake, but being socially inept like he tended to be, and as grumpy at his dragon, the niceties escaped his mind. At least the Candidate was friendly enough to eclipse L'ven's sullenness. He seemed downright chipper, certainly more than seemed possible for a Candidate as old as he was. L'ven probably would have fled from a successful young Weyrling when he was a Candidate, but then again, he'd known most of the Weyrlings of Fort, at least enough to be indignant that some of the lazy sloths had Impressed and he hadn't. But, enough of his internal sulking that it had taken him eight Hatchings to Impress; Valleth had been worth waiting for, even if he did manage to do a good job of getting on L'ven's nerves when he wanted to.

L'ven couldn't help but swell a little with pride when the Candidate addressed him as 'Bronzerider.' True, it would be several more months before he was a fully fledged 'Rider, but he simply adored the sound of his future rank. It sounded so... formidable. Bronzerider. There weren't many who could boast they were that, now, were there? He deflated himself after a second, however, as he didn't want to appear to smug about that fact. "Yeah, nice to meet you, Lyam," he said, rather tonelessly, but he smiled nonetheless. "Oh, thank you!" he added a bit more cheerfully. Valleth met Lyam's eye when the old Candidate looked his way, but he did not add a hello to L'ven's; open as he was around other dragons, he preferred to stay out of their minds, especially when they were almost-perfect strangers.

L'ven was surprised when another young man came clomping in, and it was all he could do to keep from jumping. He wasn't used to being sneaked up on like that. "Er, thanks?" L'ven said cautiously, unsure of whether the new person meant that as a compliment, but his tone sounded innocent enough. "That's Valleth," he added, "and he's being a wherrybutt right now." Far from being insulted, Valleth only rumbled in soft laughter, eyes whirling cheerfully. L'ven had to look down to talk to Tylar, short as the Candidate was, but it was obvious that he, like Lyam, was older, maybe as old as L'ven himself. Well, that made sense, if he thought about it; Dalibor was most likely to attract older Candidates that weren't having luck elsewhere than youngsters who were just adjusting to Weyrlife. L'ven was tempted to ask them if they'd Stood before, but as sensitive as that topic was to his own heart, he didn't dare to. He wouldn't want them then asking how many tries it took before Valleth...

"So, um..." L'ven started a bit awkwardly, not entirely sure what one was supposed to say to a pair of strangers. He didn't know anything about them, and they were Candidates, so he couldn't just ask of their dragons or share stories of a funny thing that had happened at the last Weyrling lesson. "Where are you two from? You're pretty new, aren't you?" he said, praying to the first egg that they were, so he wouldn't appear like a complete wherrybrain. He'd certainly never seen either of them before. And 'where are you from' sounded like a pretty safe question to L'ven. No offense could be taken from that, right? He was kind of tempted to walk away now that Lyam had someone else to talk to, but Valleth's mind blocked off his own instantly, making it quite clear that he wasn't allowed to leave yet. L'ven sighed inwardly. Maybe one of these two would have something interesting to say, or he'd make an acquaintance worthwhile enough to be standing out here in the cold while his warm furs sat empty in his weyr...[/right][/font]

[purnip]

Not the most fascinating man. Lyam had come across other characters much like L'ven. That impatience of his was easy to detect with those constant glances away and the pauses in between his answers. The manner he carried himself was with a hint of pride, but the man was younger than Lyam initially had thought. He was under the impression that L'ven was older than them by several years, but he might be closer in age than Lyam had perceived. Maybe younger still; L'ven could be about his own age. He didn't allow that to cause the respect to drop out of him. It was a useful side note that he would hold on to for now. Besides, there would be no good in even accidentally insulting a Bronzerider, regardless of rank. Lyam hadn't had to remind himself since he was a young teen that his words would have to do all the fighting and that the best battles take place without notice. At the moment, it felt as i he was simply getting an overview of his playing field. Who were his opponents, his allies, and most importantly, what were everyone's weaknesses.

Not that Lyam was planning to start a war or anything. He was never, ever the confrontational sort. If anything he preferred undying pacifism. That's mostly when it all came down to him though. If something he would say put two other people against each other, his care would be minute. It was he that did not wish to be on the battlefield. Not that he couldn't put up with rolling up his sleeves, but he had a knack for talking his way out of it and always took the opportunity to do so. Words are quicker than daggers; if you're a skilled enough master, you will no sooner see the end of your days.

So how could he use L'ven's attitude to his advantage? Not in many ways now that a new player has entered the game. The new boy, one Lyam immediately recognized as Tylar, was a Candidate like himself and bore the same sort of enthusiasm he had. Personally never having met him until now, Lyam knew Tylar's name from the grapevine; he was the sort to pay keen attention to the ambient conversations around him. He practically knew everyone's name had they even slipped into the Barracks for an afternoon cup of klah (not that many did). Because of this new Candidate he could tell that L'ven's impatience was growing. Couldn't blame him, the poor sod. He was probably itching to return to his weyr. Still, this wasn't going to stop Lyam from being friendly. Little could. He half-turned to Tylar, making sure to keep the Weyrling in his sight. He needed to make sure that at no point the Bronzerider would feel excluded, or he would surely find an excuse to leave. Lyam hadn't even had the chance to ask anything of value. After waiting out here longer than he would have liked on his own, he deserved his information.

"Another Candidate? Got tired of the stuffy air at the Barracks too, I gather?" He chuckled, though it was forced but it would be a wonder if anyone could tell. Lyam was very gifted in faking certain emotion. If anything he was annoyed by Tylar's appearance. Horrendous timing. He looked to L'ven again with a keeness in his eyes. "I must be new enough. If I'd been here for more than a sevenday I'd have known just about the entire Weyr by now, including yourself. But here I am. It was only a matter of time," he said loftily. He stood with more confidence just for the sake of keeping his image a sort of enigma. The Weyrling must have found it a little strange that a Candidate would just be exploring the big bad Weyr instead of keeping to the Barracks like most. Lyam liked the image that it was likely conveying. A formidable and sort of fearless one.

Too bad the question had been directed at the both of them though. Because of that, he was likely not to have a chance to ask his own. L'ven would grow weary of this conversation fast; he could sense it. His thumbs on the edge of his pockets as he casually stood, waiting for his turn again. It felt like a game with raised stakes.

[theknightwhosaysni]

Tylar shrugged as the Bronze Rider addressed the two of them, the callous look in his eyes fading slightly, replaced with a hint of disappointment, he'd rather hoped to avoid searching questions such as this "I've been here long enough," he replied with a hint of a challenge in the voice, "Stood through a few Hatchings, you know, all that stuff." He made a waffling motion with his hands, forcing a chuckle, "Then again, you don't seem like the kind of person who would seek me out, and I wouldn't seek you out, so therefore, it's not surprising that we don't know each other." Reply after reply he spit out rapidly, making sure that the others had no chance to interject their opinions in between his.

He shrugged, as if he didn't care where he was from, as if it wasn't important, but his voice had a hint of boredom, as if he felt obligated to reply "I'm from Benden Weyr." a smirk stretching across his face, "And how about you?" he queried cheerfully, his blue eyes searching the Bronze Rider's expression. "I mean, I assume you came from somewhere, and didn't spring fully grown from the ground, eh?" A chuckle escaped him, though Tylar fell silent as the other, Lyam, he was certain now, voiced his opinion on it all.

"Tired? Me? Of course not." He said scathingly, giving a slight snort to show that it was, while not meant as a joke, not meant to give offense. Sometimes, with boys like these, he had to make that clear. "However, I won't deny that I didn't want to stand around in the Barracks any longer. Full of reminders, ya know?" Then again, they probably wouldn't, considering Lyam was a new candidate, and the Rider was, well, a Rider.

Still, as the Rider looked down at him, a hint of annoyance showed on his face. Tylar didn't enjoy feeling as if he didn't measure up, physically or emotionally, and therefore this wasn't going over well...

[4horseshowgirl4]

Lyam had started out nice enough, but when his eyes turned from Tylar to L'ven again, it was with a strong gaze, almost... challenging. L'ven's thoughts about the Candidate shifted almost immediately, becoming a bit more wary: locking eyes with someone he barely knew rarely resulted in something pleasant happening. Lyam's next words reinforced L'ven's suspicions: the Candidate was sly, certainly, but it was obvious that he was trying to place himself at the head of this conversation, putting him in control. Well, that would not do, would it! L'ven had authority issues, which he was able to reign in when it came to the Weyrlingmasters and even his dragon, at times, but when a lowly Candidate tried to put himself in charge, L'ven would not defer to him so easily. After all, Lyam was still an unproven Candidate, whose only accomplishment was being Searched, while L'ven had not only Impressed, but was now a Wingsecond (of the Weyrling wing, not a fighting wing, but the technicalities weren't important)!

He opened his mouth to give a sharp reply, but Tylar beat him to it, and the other Candidate wasn't going to give L'ven a chance to interrupt, not that L'ven would. His manners weren't that bad. However, the quick words gave L'ven a chance to recompose the words in his head so they were slightly less aggressive (between his rivalry with K'ber and his past disagreements with K'mar, he didn't need to be picking any more fights). "What is this about escaping the Barracks?" he interjected with a bit of a smirk. "Maybe Savrent and S'rial are going easy on you guys, but when I was a Candidate, the Barracks were a magical place of rest and relaxation!" L'ven smiled to soften the words, but it was clear that, besides making conversation, he was subtly flaunting his experience, as well as chastising the other two for not working as hard as they possibly could.

He turned back to Lyam, giving the Candidate a questioning look, but posing no queries about how he'd planned to meet a Weyrfull of staff and Candidates in a sevenday, much less all of the Dragonriders, the busy Weyrlings, and their leaders. It was all L'ven could do from snorting in laughter at the thought of Lyam requesting an audience from Fajra, but perhaps it was better to let the Candidate try on his own and laugh over the story with the rest of his class later. Lyam straightened, standing taller, and L'ven was wondering why he was exploring the Weyr, but not because of the reason Lyam had intended. Candidates ran amok in the Weyr (Pratyba from his class had even thrown a party with illicit alcohol), that was to be expected, but L'ven wouldn't even be out here unless Valleth was blackmailing him, and he couldn't fathom how Lyam had thought taking a stroll through the Weyrbowl at this time of year could possibly be a good idea.

"That assumption would be correct," L'ven responded to Tylar, slightly more light-heartedly. "I'm from Fort Weyr, but I Impressed here, at Kalith's clutch, and I was at the Harperhall before that," he said, fairly certain they would know who the Sr. Queen was here. If they didn't, well... they were beyond help. L'ven did know about the reminders to which Tylar alluded, but he was not going to bring that up. He had Valleth now, and his own Candidacy was a thing of the past, but his numerous failures at Hatchings were still sharp, painful memories for him. Two perfect strangers, one of which was clearly trying to place himself above L'ven, did not need to know that. He was fairly confident his reference to the Healerhall would convince them that he hadn't been a Candidate for too long before Impressing.

But, why was Lyam not answering the question? Did he have skeletons in his closet, like L'ven did? If he did, obviously he was not going to share for the same reason L'ven wouldn't, and L'ven wasn't forward nor curious enough to ask. Feeling like he had contributed his fair share to the conversation, L'ven slipped his quickly-freezing fingers into his pockets and posed no more questions, hoping that the conversation would slip into awkward silence so he could take his leave. Surely Valleth would be getting cold soon, too. He needed a good oil, and L'ven had much better things to do than make idle small talk with two Candidates he wasn't sure how much he liked.

[/font]

[purnip]

"Hardly relaxing," Lyam quickly butted in. When no longer the center of attention with what he felt was his new Candidate rival, he found the greatest desire to get what he came for right then and there. The information he sought was plain and simple enough. Sure, just about anyone could answer, but the whole point of the exercise was to show face and collect the trimmings of up and coming events. He was sure that he had heard something about a flitter flight. He desperately wanted to be in on the hatching. In his current position, the possibility was slim unless he made friends in high places, and fast. He needed to make a better impression. Lyam could tell L'ven was becoming just a little uneasy with his forward ways. Perhaps some day he could just say 'well, tough'. Today was not that day.

"If you don't mind sitting around and picking the gravel out of the walls or the glamorous task of assisting in robotic chores. Don't get me wrong, I know it's all part of the package; I'm not complaining." He leaned most of his weight onto one leg, adopting a rather casual stand. He had to stop being overbearing or he'd get the wrong message across. Tread carefully. His words were getting too pushy too. Lyam, you're better than this. "But for someone like myself, I much prefer the open air and the tightest crowds. To each their own, I guess. With my sort of attitude I wouldn't be shocked to leave many Hatchings without Impression. Dragons seem to favor commitment." His gaze was now distant as he was looking in Valleth's direction. That creature had such intelligent eyes, as did all the dragons. Lyam admired them so. A shame that the words he had spoken were woven with truth. He truly didn't expect to Impress on the first go like his uncle had. Something dramatically ironic about it that life itself couldn't resist.

Back to talking with Tylar. A pity. Lyam was trying hard to keep the conversation en route in order to get in L'ven's good graces before posing the ultimate query. Such a meager one, but how it was posed would be most important. If L'ven didn't trust or connect with Lyam in any sense the answer would not come. Not a useful one.

Meeting everyone in a sevenday? An embellished lie. L'ven must have caught on to it judging by the smirk. Of course it would be impossible, even for himself. Lyam only wanted to add some humor to his words. In all honesty, getting a word in with a Dragonrider is just as difficult to do as intercepting a traveling merchant, only the merchant can't teleport in and out of /between/. And a meeting with the Sr. Weyrwoman? Hey, it could happen. Tug all the right strings and eventually you'll find the way there. Lyam wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to stand at a door and shout for a meeting that would not happen. There are better and more deliciously furtive ways to speak to the alpha dog. One has to first learn the language. Weyrs works so differently from Holds. Dragons and Thread complicated everything.

Lyam tried not to stare at the dragon. It's not a very polite sort of thing to do. His eyes lingered on the bowl and then to L'ven again with as much respect as he could possibly muster. Such was the way for now, until he was better situated.

[theknightwhosaysni]

Tylar sighed slightly - they clearly wouldn't be able to escape some more pointed questions about Lyam's comments. Some Candidates never changed, apparently. Tylar already didn't like this boy, though he rarely liked anyone, and considering the circumstances, it was almost surprising he hadn't snapped on the annoying Candidate yet. Something about the way he stood, straightening himself up once in a while, or maybe it was the look in Lyam's eyes - it was a little hard to see the Candidate's eyes, but all the same, Lyam looked almost like he was plotting.

How stupid, Tylar berated himself silently, No Candidate was going to pull something off that he would actually have to worry about, so in truth, there was no need to go there. Lyam was just a Candidate, like Tylar, and until the day Lyam Impressed - hopefully after Tylar did - he wasn't much of a threat.

"Ah, the Harperhall." Tylar knew of it, after all, what child didn't? but he'd never learned of the more subtle mysteries of the craft that weren't explained to the outside world, and he allowed a hint of curiosity to leak into his voice as he continued, "What was it like there? Was it fun?" 'Fun' was perhaps not the right word for it, but it was the best Tylar could think of, and therefore, it would have to do.

His answer to Lyam, though the Candidate hadn't been speaking to him, contained slightly more emotion, "I do the chores because they get you onto the Sands. Commitment doesn't appear to be my strong suit either." Well, apparently they'd found something in common. Great, just great. When Tylar came out on top - that he might not did not cross his mind - he didn't want to feel guilty about some Candidate he'd connected with, no matter how small the connection was.

"It's showed in the Hatchings..." Tylar added, in a more bitter grumble, before he turned, with a teasing light to his voice, to L'ven, "I bet you did all your chores like a good little boy, eh?" he ribbed, though there was a challenge hidden behind the teasing. If L'ven could find the challenge, congratulations to him, but Tylar just didn't have that high of an opinion of him...

[4horseshowgirl4]

There was something about being a Dragonrider that made you more perceptive, L'ven thought. You spent all of your time mentally connected to another being. Their thoughts, their emotions, their feelings all rushed into your head as easily as they rushed through their own. And, likewise, they were able to instantly pick up on everything in your head. It was beyond difficult to keep things from each other for any period of time. You were able to detect the slightest nuances in your lifemate's aura, and they, yours. L'ven had never been particularly good at paying attention to people's emotions, and he still wasn't, but when he took the effort, he found that he was able to figure out how they were feeling. He wasn't sure if that was from his constant practice between him and Valleth, or whether Valleth just supplied him information subtly.

Perhaps it was this newfound perceptiveness that made L'ven aware of the cackle of electricity in the air, or perhaps the trio was just making their private power struggle so obvious that any fool would have been able to sense it. This was a group of young men that would barely be able to tolerate each other; it would take a small miracle for them to ever be friends. One part of L'ven was amused. Perhaps it was just Valleth's ego rubbing off on him, but what were these two thinking, trying to pretend they were in charge with a Bronzeweyrling in the picture? However, another part of him was irritated. They had a lot of gall-- L'ven's position should garner him respect. He'd earned it!

Lyam was insulting the chores they all had to do. L'ven knew it was an opinion shared by many of the Candidates, but, all the same, his memory flashed back to the day where the Blackweyrling K'mar and he had both been Candidates, and K'mar had not only slacked off on the chores, but insulted L'ven, insulted L'ven's family, and insulted all of dragonkind. That kind of incident refused to fade away quickly. "Now, look here," he said, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. "You don't just do chores because they're a test of how much you really want to Impress! You do them because, A, it helps the Weyr. We'd have to hire a lot more drudges to help out if Candidates don't. And, B, it gets you physically ready for Dragonriding. Do you think the average young Harper or Healer would be able to run around on their feet all day? Do you think that privileged Holdfolk who come to be Candidates could take care of a demanding baby dragon without passing out? So, suck it up and do them! We've all had to-- a little hard work is not going to kill you!" L'ven wasn't shouting, but it was a close thing. He didn't like the Candidates' attitudes.

L'ven took a minute to compose himself. It would hardly do for him to get into trouble for yelling at a pair of Candidates. He ranked above them, yes, and he felt that someone had to teach them a lesson, but he was but a Weyrling, and he didn't want to appear too uppity. "Do," he corrected Tylar, more calmly. "The work doesn't stop when you Impress. Weyrlings do chores, too, and we have to take care of a dragon. And, yes, I actually put effort into my chores. I think it's paid off, don't you?" he gave a significant backward look to the big Bronze behind him. Yes, he was showing off. He was quite proud of the fact that he had Impressed the first and only Bronze to have hatched at Dalibor since its opening. It was plausible that either of the rather arrogant boys could Impress a King at Kalith's next Hatching, but, for now, they had nothing to brag of. Tylar could try to tease him; L'ven would just shut him down.

This was hardly the pleasant social gathering Valleth had hoped for, that was for sure. {Am I allowed to leave now, your highness?} L'ven asked the Bronze scathingly. Oh, no, I'm rather enjoying this, actually. Please continue!

[/color] Valleth replied cheerily. You're funnier when you're angry! It's just too bad these two aren't Weyrlings, too... then it would be really interesting![/color] L'ven repressed a frustrated sigh with difficulty. And the short one asked you a question, Mine. I think you should try to answer it without rubbing me in his face, most people don't like that,[/color] Valleth reminded him. It took all of L'ven's self control not to throw a string of curses at Valleth. The dragon was just trying to help, in his own twisted way. L'ven wouldn't have bothered to answer except that it had been the one thing Tylar had said without trying to insult or one-up him. He shrugged. "It was safe, it was warm, it was filled with music. It was home, but it wasn't my future. This is my home now," he said simply, waiting for the taunts and teasings that would surely follow his remarks.[/right][/font]

[purnip]

Such a failure this was turning out to be. Well, even the best plans can crumble to dust. Lyam practically gave up on his query at this point; this man had reached a near-boiling point.

Perhaps he should have lied about the work. The Weyrling did make a good point, but the Candidate didn't appear to be taken aback by L'ven's rant. In fact, the explanation caused him to smirk. Could it be possible that he was being read? That the Bronzerider had a better sense of Lyam's manipulative nature than the average dragonless? There were still many mysteries that shrouded dragons and their riders that the Candidate couldn't quite understand. He doubted that L'ven could just as well read his mind; that would be too much.

Lyam shook his head and decided to take it easy. He was already on bad terms and he could sense it. For the first time in a while, he wished to let it be known that he accepted his part in this circle of antagonism. He could get the answer from his questions from the more willing. This Candidate's brand of antagonism however, was most subtle. He'd never stoop to physically fighting anyone and he'd never break out yelling or lose his temper. He would commence with his special brand of eroding. Through dry sarcasm, some humor, a bit of honesty, and all the charm he could muster.

"Point taken," Lyam replied with ease. "I suppose if one isn't bright enough to determine that on their own, they only learn such things from another. I'll take on the tasks with a little more...appreciation, I guess." He then folded his arms, his expression gone a little cross. "But one shouldn't assume for a moment that I shirk my duties. I simply mentioned their lack of provision in the 'personal fulfillment' sector." His eyes shifted off L'ven as they focused elsewhere. They had passed over Valleth again and he couldn't help but notice that the dragon appeared amused by all this. If he was viewing this conversation from a third-person distance he would certainly join in the dragon's amusement. He was sort of enjoying this now.

Because what was the worst that could happen if he only fueled the tension? Nothing. Lyam wasn't raising his voice, flailing about, or losing his cool. Anyone could argue in his defense that he was being misunderstood. And yes, he was being misunderstood from the very beginning. Lyam did not wish to make enemies at the moment. They were making themselves. The people in this Weyr are a breed apart, honestly. He could see why they were chosen to become or perhaps become dragonmen. He wondered if there was even such a thing as a mild mannered male dragonrider.

As to L'ven's rhetorical question at the end of his explanation, Lyam's eyes were back on the rider as he quickly mock-scanned him. He had good enough photographic memory to remember L'ven's face had he saw it a dragonlenth away for the instance of the time it takes to cough twice. He only did this scan to humor the Bronzerider and let it be known how well aware he was willing to be. "Ultimately you're the best judge of that," he muttered.

[theknightwhosaysni]

Tylar watched calmly as the boy very nearly lost his temper, and then inclined his head slightly. He could almost see the importance to those words, but honestly, Tylar didn't care either way. He stood by his words. He did the chores so he could get onto the Sands, and that was that.

"Well, I'm sure that doing all of your chores got you onto the back of a Bronze," Tylar gave a slight sneer, "And your inner worthiness didn't get you there at all..." a slight roll of his eyes later, and he was done, waiting calmly for the next explosion to come.

However, when the Weyrling returned to the subject of the HarperHall, Tylar accepted the turn without protest. "Home..." he mused quietly, "That's a word that has many meanings, you know." he commented, "And what exactly it means to you has yet to be determined..."

When Lyam spoke, Tylar welcomed the distraction, his blue eyes narrowing again, slightly unhappy when his lofty words reminded him of the fact that currently, he was the shortest at this gathering. Tylar straightened himself up slightly, a small smirk dancing across his face, though he wiped it away quickly, a calm glance sweeping across Valleth, L'ven, and Lyam as Tylar regained composure.

It wouldn't do to annoy this Weyrling too much, because subtle revenge could be taken. This Bronze Rider could just be smart enough that he knew of such subtle revenge methods - Tylar's opinion of him had climbed slightly - and Tylar didn't feel like finding all of his clothes draped throughout the Weyr, or some other such childish prank, though he wasn't above pulling them himself. Not that it mattered much, because Tylar was going to Impress an Iron, and that would certainly put this Bronze Rider in his place, seeing as Irons were the biggest Kings of all, if they followed their growth patterns appropriately...

Besides, this antagonism was starting to get annoying, to bother him, and Tylar calmly began to speak again in a slightly more soothing tone - it wouldn't do to have a Weyrling flying at his throat after his last comment - and he was almost agreeing with Lyam, "I do agree that that is for you to decide... Although I personally think that an Iron might have been more of a pay off myself. They're bigger.", well, there went being soothing, he hadn't meant his veiled insult towards the Bronze to become so obvious, but it was a little late now.

Tylar gave a barely audible sigh, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he waited impatiently for something to happen that would change this never ending cycle of testosterone and antagonism - so much repetitiveness, it was getting boring - that would free him from any obligation to keep this long suffering conversation up, if it could even be called that any longer.

Seemed to him that the entire thing was all about exchanging one threat for an insult, and that insult for a not quite compliment.

Face it, he thought to himself, wishing he could voice it out loud without fear of angering the Bronze Weyrling, because, after all, the Weyrling did have one of the largest dragons at his back, and it wouldn't have hurt to think of that before he insulted he dragon, but it didn't matter now, face it, we're never going to get along. Let's just move on with life and pretend this little incident never happened.

Tylar had a feeling that several people would be walking away from this encounter with rumpled feathers, himself included, though he had more tact than to show it...

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