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Post by theknightwhosaysni on Jan 16, 2010 16:35:28 GMT -5
The day was hot, the water was cool, tantalizingly so...
There was a shirt bundled up into a little ball by a pair of sandals on the lake shore, and further into the water was a boy, splashing away dedicatedly like a child, trying to find some enjoyment from doing such a thing when all he could think of was the Hatching.
The Hatching was sure to come soon, Tylar reflected as he flipped onto his back, panting slightly, rather tired out from the good hour or so he'd already spent out on the water, before flailing his arms about in awkward circles, an attempt at the backstroke from someone who clearly could not swim all that well, if at all.
A few feet of spinning arms later, he stopped, letting the sun warm his face, and the cool water help him relax.
If the amount of eggs on the Sands was any kind of indicator, more likely than not, he would Impress, Tylar reminded himself of that fact regularly, the only problem with that was that he could not predict what color he would Impress, and if he Impressed a green or something similar, for sure, he would be the laughingstock of the entire Weyr.
Tylar kicked wet legs, the water that had soaked into the fabric of his pant weighing down his legs, and he absently brought a hand over his eyes to shield them from Rukbat's glare.
Judging by the angle of the sun, he wasn't due back in the Weyr for a while, and even then, it was only for a few quick chores, which, hopefully, wouldn't take too very long, Tylar was already beginning to enjoy himself in the unbroken, if rather heavy, silence.
The air weighed down on his chest, but that was probably just the humidity, which was rather nasty that day, so he shrugged it off, and kept on floating, chest bared for the world to see, not that most of the world would be leaving the Weyr if they had to.
Tylar had just been getting tired of everyone talking about the Hatching, and even then, it had taken a while for him to persuade himself to leave his room in the Barracks, though he'd managed to leave Akal and Meggo behind.
The two firelizards got on just as horribly as ever, and Tylar wasn't really in the mood for their antics that day.
Well, he rarely ever was, but today, he was in less of a mood than ever. What Tylar really needed right then was to be able to relax, but between flitters arguing loudly over who got to perch on which shoulder, and the eggs hardening on the Hatching Sands, indoors had gotten to be more oppressive than the heat outside could ever be.
ooc:||
Bleh, muse fail. D:
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Post by purnip on Jan 16, 2010 17:07:44 GMT -5
For two boys that were oil and water together, Lyam had a lot in common with Tylar lately. For one, he simply could not stand talk of the Hatching any longer, no matter how impending it may be. Every time he thought about it, he felt his breath seize in his chest for the briefest of moments and he'd have to force himself to smile and wish others well. They would ask his thoughts and opinions on it and lately he had considered lying about them. Just...tell everyone that he had the fullest confidence that everyone will Impress, despite there being less eggs on the Sands than there where Candidates. As if a wild female would drop a few extra ones for the benefit of the odd ones out. If only, right? Lyam couldn't bring himself to believe his nonsense. The number one rule, no wait, the number two rule was to never start believing your own lies. Number one was not to allow yourself to be caught. Not that he worried much about the first rule; no one caught his lies. He lied with as much precision as was expected from him.
Today he was taking a risk. He informed Suede, his faithful companion, to stay behind and remain on high alert. The Blue was capable of zipping to and fro with amazing agility due to his relentless practice, so the boy was confident that he would be given a proper alarm if the eggs on the Sands were starting to hatch. Just in case, he had under his arm his folded Candidate robes as he walked down the corridor of the Barracks. For the past sevenday he never strayed far without them. He'd be on the Sands first, and so he could start off with the likelier chance. Likely it shall be, when after all, there aren't that many more Candidates. That's all he needed to remember.
Those bits about destiny and fate, about dragonets knowing, he had a hard time accepting it. There was nothing he could do, according to the riders he asked, that would attract positive attention toward himself. "Just be you," he remembered one saying. "A dragon loves you for you after all."
That advice was his uncle's. So far it was the best to go on even after D'urian's class.
But be himself? This was Lyam. Lyam was a puppeteer, a watchman. He was the analytical and manipulative person who put on a different costume on different stages in front of different actors. Not to be meant in a negative way, he was the way he was in order to survive and live comfortably. He couldn't be comfortable in an unpredictable world. Everything had to be exposed and deconstructed, then reconstructed. That was who he was. Could a dragon ever fancy such a devious person? He didn't know of anyone like himself riding a'dragonback.
Thinking of Impression again, and it was making him weary. Lyam sped up his walk, still keeping that calm and cool exterior on for the public. To anyone else he may appear confident, sure of himself, and perhaps just a little too proud. Honestly, he wasn't the type. He was able to manage his pride well. He rather have a humor about things, but the stress he was under snuffed it out. Lyam couldn't produce a genuine smile without the best triggers.
By the time he arrived at the lake, Rukbat was high in the sky, further intensifying the heat around him. The shade was looking more favorable now, but he did not turn back. Inside the weyr was more talk of dragonets and Candidate Impression guesses. A small frown was given away; he didn't spot a soul in this area, so it was okay. He was glad to be rid of the lot for just one moment. He did wish for a person to talk to, as always, just so long as they didn't mention the bloody Hatching. Maybe he should have stepped out of the weyr. Suede's images of the outside seemed to have toiling people who wouldn't even know of weyr activities. He wished for company however. Jasra was his top choice, due to her willingness to communicate. Other than that, he talked to no one that impressionable by this time. No one he desired to speak to by name.
Lyam did not see the bundles on the shore, as his eyes were focused on the general horizon. He was thinking of people he knew in the weyr and which ones would be ideal to track down afterwards, so his attention wasn't upon actuality. He approached the lake from an odd angle, where some trees stood before it, and set his robes and a change of pants by it. He then removed his shirt, a light one he had picked for such a scorcher of a day, and folded it neatly aside. No one has really seen Lyam shirtless, but the spots on his neck that were lighter than his general skin tone exploded into a frenzy around his chest, down his arms to around the wrists. He almost looked more like an animal than a human with a hide like his. It was a skin condition that ran down one side of the family, but he wasn't much ashamed by it. He took good enough care of his hair to make up for it. Besides, he remembered girls and their mothers back at Fort Hold saying they made him look cute. Whatever helps. He long got over the fact that he couldn't change his physical appearance by much.
He carefully slid down to the lake shore, testing the water with his feet. Cool; a lot cooler than the surrounding air. Just right even. Lyam smiled to himself and practically dove in. It was almost as if the waters were washing away his cares at the moment. He was still however, blissfully unaware of Tylar's presence, as he had immersed himself on the near opposite end of the lake for solitude. Odd, only because normally he despised solitude. Yet normally, he was not in such terrible mental condition.
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Post by theknightwhosaysni on Jan 16, 2010 17:24:19 GMT -5
The silence was making him sleepy, or perhaps that was just from the lack of sleep the night before? Either way, Tylar's eyes had begun to drift shut, and he was nearly asleep, right arm still shading his eyes, and his legs began to stop moving, and his left arm as well.
The only things that had been holding him up stopped moving, and slowly, inch by inch, Tylar began to sink.
It hadn't been long before he shot of his reverie, flailing about vigorously, and nearly inhaling a good few lungfuls of water as he went, as unaware as ever of companions as he righted himself, treading water carefully, and wiping his eyes clear of the water that was steadily blurring his sight, before returning the hand that had been wiping back to supporting his weight under the water as he frowned, glancing about, making quite sure that no one had witnessed his humiliation.
Well, it didn't appear that anyone had, except for . . . was that a person?
Oh, for the love of Faranth, he must have the worst luck in the entire Weyr if someone had actually noticed his graceless flailing, coughing, and sputtering. Tylar winced, frowning, and shading his eyes once more, trying to make out the form of the other, trying to figure who it was that had come up with the same idea as he had to escape the Weyr.
Waterlogged legs once more began to kick once more, and Tylar moved slowly but steadily - he'd never been the most gifted of swimmers, now was no exception, his legs were kicking loudly an inefficiently - towards the other figure, hardly thinking about the fact his was wearing no shirt...
Wait, he wasn't wearing a shirt? Sharding sharding shells, Tylar had forgotten about that entirely.
But it looked to be too late now, Tylar was within shouting distance of the other, and that form was starting to look distinctly familiar...
Was that Lyam?
Oh, sharding sharding sharding sharding shells...
Wildly, Tylar looked about for something, anything that would disguise the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt, realizing too late that there was nothing he could do.
Ready to melt into the earth with embarrassment, Tylar moved as little as possible, hoping, praying, that Lyam hadn't noticed him, and that he could beat a hasty retreat.
Oh, of all the people to get there right then, it had to be Lyam. Of course, Lyam, and if he'd been smart enough to stay at his end of the lake, he wouldn't have had to meet Lyam sharding shirtless.
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Post by purnip on Jan 16, 2010 18:03:23 GMT -5
Closing his eyes when immersed up to his chin, Lyam dove into his head for just one thought. One distraction of any distraction possible to forget about the world around him. A difficult and rather pointless task. He never retreated anything distracting in the recess of his mind. He was just about to open his eyes on his own accord when he heard splashing nearby. For a moment, he thought a dragon was descending for a bath. Startled, his eyes shot open and his head lowered until the water's edge was just above his nose. He felt like an intruder all of a sudden.
But alas, there was no dragon. Another human figure, paler than himself, shirtless on the other end of the lake. He could not recognize him right away, but immediately Lyam wanted nothing to do with him. It was strange that he didn't note him the moment he got here. He must have really been distracted after all.
Curiosity got the better of him when the other noticed him and well, didn't move. Then Lyam was able to recognize the other boy right away.
But of all people, why would Tylar be out here? He didn't think that the boy knew of the word 'relaxation'. A false judgment on his part he supposed. Now Lyam didn't feel embarrassed at all knowing it was him, merely aware of the fact that he was probably causing Tylar all the discomfort in this meeting. Lyam felt rather comfortable, aside from the impending belief that the other Candidate would bother him about that taboo subject. He rose his head above water again to catch his breath and stood. The water on the spot he stood upon only reached his chest. He gave a small wave, but the look on his face remained incredulous. Only for the other boy's sake. Though Lyam felt no need to be subtle, he did have just a little bit of sympathy for Tylar. Everyone had different degrees of exposure.
No call was given. Perhaps Tylar would leave and try to ignore him; Lyam thought of doing the same, without the leaving. True, he had wished for some sort of company, but that boy was just not on his list. No doubt they were both--
Frightened. Of the same thing. It as likely, if not certain, that the same subject plagued the both of them. Tylar's ambition for high Impression and his own ambition to Impress in general. The two were the types who needed to have some sort of control, or they would likely be driven mad. Lyam was aware of the similarity now, more than ever. Tylar might just be the only person he could talk to in this weyr that would avoid the subject of Hatching at all costs. If that was the case, then he had to speak. He needed to say something.
"It's nice out here, isn't it?" he shouted across, with just enough volume to be heard. He idled in the water for a moment as he waited for the other boy to respond. He was right about this one, he sensed it. Tylar wasn't going to drone on about the taboo thing. Now whether or not he was going to be blown off, that was unknown. He had the impression that the other would not do so.
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Post by theknightwhosaysni on Jan 18, 2010 10:21:16 GMT -5
Tylar was staying as still as he could when Lyam called out across the water to him - looked like he hadn't managed to pull off hiding in plain sight. Silently, he berated himself for trying to figure who his companion was.
Lyam just . . . bugged him. But it would be rude to annoy him, and Tylar prided himself on being able to be rude without ignoring anyone, "Sure is!" he called back across the water cheerfully, a plan fermenting in his mind.
He'd been looking for a distraction, and lo and behold, this is what he'd found. A perfect distraction, it was all he could've asked for and then some. All he had to would be to . . . Uh . . . Tylar didn't know what he could do. It hadn't occurred to Tylar yet that Lyam could hold his own in just about anything Tylar threw at him, but it was certainly drifting at the back of his mind, it was probably why he was feeling so awkward.
Yeah, that was it. It didn't have anything to do with being shirtless with Lyam of all sharding people.
After a few moments of silence, Tylar started swimming towards Lyam, complete with awkward flailings of his arms, and his head held over the water, until they were within talking distance.
There, much better, they could at least talk to each other now without yelling. Tylar could live with that, as long as he didn't look at the other boy's chest. How awkward would that be?
He didn't even want to go there...
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Post by purnip on Jan 18, 2010 10:45:56 GMT -5
It was one of the best kept dirty little secrets on Lyam's top ten, but he was unable to swim well. He swam like a canine with three legs--barely and clumsily. He only managed to learn just enough to keep himself from drowning. So needless to say, he was grateful that Tylar was coming towards him and not the other way around. A conversation of yelling was not only tiring, but the last thing he needed on the day of the Hatching would be the lack of a voice. Just in case...well, he needed to use it or something.
He found it strange that the other boy kept throwing his glances away from him. He always had the impression that Tylar disliked him, but this was something unrelated. Lyam looked down at himself, though only his head and upper chest were visible, and wondered if he had some sort of deformity going on. No...Tylar might have pointed it out and laughter and snide remarks; he seems the type to do something like that. Was shirtlessness supposed to be that embarrassing? Where he came from, being shirtless didn't mean a whole lot. It was rude to be in that state for leisure unless you had put in a hard day's work, but as long as you were sweating a storm, no one minded to see a man without all his clothes on {depending on the missing article in question}. But it had to be embarrassment. Anything else and Tylar's reaction would have been different.
What came as a strange relief was the fact that the other boy was accepting the offer to chat. Despite his feelings right now of embarrassment and hatred {if indeed the feeling were so strong}, Tylar was still going to approach. Lyam decided the boy deserved more credit in the maturity department. That only meant that the other Candidate was still in the process of sizing him up or in a stubborn refusal to back down to a threat. Whatever that threat was. Tylar must have something against his type, whatever aspect. If he saw beyond Lyam's facade in any way, it would quickly explain the hatred. It would have been no different than Rhysia's cold shoulder, but boys and girls handled the same sorts of things differently.
There were a billion ways to continue the conversation, though Tylar just shot the first one down and dared him to try and pull another one to test his creativity. A bit foolish really. Lyam had the next topic on hand, firing away like a pez dispenser. "Where's your delightful duo? I didn't think Akal would give you the crawling space." He smirked, trying to joke around when he knew the comment might be taken the wrong way. Lyam felt the impulse to test Tylar back and poke and prod him like an experiment. He could end up being someone important or formidable in the future, or not, but whatever the case may be, Lyam needed a rival to keep him in check and from the day he met the other boy, he had seemed to choose him.
Other than that, he didn't make any further attempt to remove what little comfort remained. He didn't raise himself out of the water more {though mostly because he was already standing}. He only felt the slightest bit self-conscious about the blotches on his chest and neck, but he had lived with them for all his life and knew how to defend the imperfection.
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