Mark For Your Thoughts? {Arratra}

[Admin]

I've been roaming around,
Always looking down at all I see,
Painted faces fill,
The places I can't reach.

A certain yellowrider, the only yellowrider at Dalibor, was ambling across the bowl with his dragon beside him. While he didn't know exactly where he was going, he was certainly enjoying himself as he walked along. "Oh, I'm a crazy man;" he loudly sang, less than bothered or embarrassed by the fact that his voice wasn't perfectly on key. It was the middle of a spring day with dragon eggs on the sands and new wherlings running about. No one was going to care about the resident flirt turned pinkrider's boyfriend's singing. "And you're a crazy man;" he continued. The song he'd picked for the reasonless occasion was an old drinking tune. The composition showed the origins. "So let's do crazy manly things, and then wait until the caged bird sings!" He concluded his singing with a grand flourish to no one, grinning from ear to ear.

Uh, Mine? Annith had put up with the singing with her usual cheerfulness, but she peered down at him with mild concern nonetheless. Not halting, he waved his hand airily at her without responding. Sadly, it couldn't said that P'nay acting odd or insane was an usual thing. Most of the time, his insanity was limited to trying to sleep with things, usually R'ish at that time, though he still wasn't exactly very close-minded about trying to flirt with anything that moved. However, he wasn't above acting a little crazy in the general sense of the word. Deciding that her rider was simply being himself and not in any real danger, except from possibly tripping when he wasn't looking, Annith subsided from her inquiries. Since he had fallen into silence, she started to quietly hum. It was really more of a vague thrum, but it was pretty enough.

All of a sudden, the yellow came to an abrupt stop, falling instantly silent. She turned her head, gazing out across the bowl in a new directions, eyes slowly turning more blue as she thought. P'nay stopped a second after her, well attuned to her changes despite his odd choice of actions for the day. He tilted his head back, looking up at her with a patient but questioning expression written on his face. His wide grin remained. There is a candidate who is not a candidate. The cryptic remark couldn't be questioned. Dragons had a hidden way of knowing who was a proper candidate and who wasn't. They could tell if someone had the potential or if someone was supposed to be standing. Some were better at it than others, and Annith was one of the better ones, when she wasn't oblivious. P'nay turned to see who had gotten her attention.

While you live it up,
I'm off to sleep,
Waging wars to shape,
The poet and the beat.

[arratra]

There were actually two people in that direction, plus one dragon.

Matren was standing on a small rise in the bowl, with A'tra not far away, his customary cloak fluttering slightly in the breeze. Avartiath was, of course, resting on an outcropping of rock not far away, watching Matren with interest. His eyes were a strange teal colour, which they seemed to assume when in the presence of Candidates... and Matren.

P'nay's rough song had passed both the young rider and the apprentice smith by completely; they accepted it as normal here. This was, to them, a time of companionable silence, any messages between them being passed via subtle cues, that neither picked up conciously... Plus there was something extra, a subliminal connection that had always formed between A'tra and something he was in continual contact with. It had appeared several times before he had been Searched, in the form of a empathetic connection with the caravan canines.

It was a subtle shift in the air that caused them to both turn and look in Annith and P'nay's direction, brought about by the yellow dragon's scrutiny. Upon closer scrutiny, people would notice that A'tra lacked the shoulder knots that should have denoted him as a full rider. Instead, he had an etched leather patch on his shoulder, carrying the same symbolism.

"P'nay!" A'tra called, "Come on! Don't just stare at us! Get over here!"

[Admin]

Ever taken to me,
But you pierced my heart in June,
Turned and hung the moon,
In a while, child.

At the blackrider's call, P'nay grinned extra wide. The rather young rider couldn't be who Annith was talking about, because that boy had been searched long ago and Impressed not too long after that. However, there was someone else with him, another boy, several turn younger. That one? That one. Annith confirmed the notion with sunny cheer and loving confidence. Raising a hand in a wave, P'nay started to amble towards the pair of boys, the yellow following after him. He stopped at the base of the rise where they sat, looking up at them with briefly curious eyes. Surprisingly, he felt no interest for either of them. Probably because both of them were actually starting to get a bit too young for them. Maybe, with any luck, he was getting used to to being just R'ish's lover. It didn't really matter. He'd come over for an actual reason.

"Annith thinks he should be a candidate;" the yellowrider said, not bothering to beat around the bush. It was joyful news, and he spoke with cheerfulness. Being a candidate was an honor, an honor that even the flighty P'nay would usually respect. Annith offered a croon of greeting to Avartiath and then rumbled her confirmation of her rider's words. She lowered her hand to peer more closely at Matren, just to double check, though she didn't have a doubt in her mind that he wouldn't Impress. "What's your name, kid? You can move into the barrack first thing. Probably should, with eggs on the sands." P'nay turned his attention away from A'tra to speak to the younger of the two boys. Hooking his thumbs in his pocket, he leaned back. Annith stood right behind him; he casually reclined against the yellow's leg, utterly at ease.

Chance, what are the chances,
That you would look down from the sky,
And choose me to be your own,
And chance, what are the chances.

[arratra]

"My name is Matren," the younger of the two boys said, "Matren Smith." He waved his hand absently at an insect that was flying around his head.
"He's my brother," A'tra explained, glancing over his shoulder at Avartiath.
The dragon did not precisely say anything, but everyone present could feel the smug satisfaction that was rolling off of the black.
"And I think this confirms it," Matren said, shaking his head and laughing silently, "Avartiath is a Search dragon."
He was silent for several moments, then said, "I'll go get my things, and move into the barracks, but I wanted to have a word with you first, P'nay... Didn't you bring me to the weyr in the first place?"

[Admin]

To the man who writes the music in my head,
Did you retire? Were you fired?
Did you skip out on your rent?
Did you go crazy? Just get lazy?

P'nay looked on with mild amusement, finding the black's satisfaction at apparently finding a candidate funny. He wasn't right yet, now was he? A search wasn't right and done until the candidate Impressed, or didn't, as the case often was in the larger Weyrs. Despite his thoughts, the yellowrider kept his tongue, kindly as his musings were. It wouldn't do to go dampening the pairs' spirits. Annith watched with sunny reverence, happy to simply be helpful. He will be good; she assured her rider and Avartiath, just for the sake of being assuring. Exactly what she meant was hard to tell, but, whatever it was, it had to be something happy and sweet. Ignoring his dragon for the most part, because she was used to it, P'nay straightened at Matren's words, considering the question carefully, trying to remember. He recalled a vague memory.

"I think so. I have a memory about as good as Annith's for remembering half of everyone, sorry;" the rider said, giving an apologetic shrug with a grin. His dragon wasn't bothered by his comments about her memory, perfectly aware that she wasn't precisely the best at recalling past events. She rumbled happily, the noise humming pleasantly from her chest, and swayed from side to side to some passing fancy in her head. "Don't get your hopes up to high, but don't ever let 'em knock ya' down;" P'nay drawled after a pause, grinning wide and winking. He wasn't much of one for stopping for words, so, with that, he turned to leave, figuring that there wasn't anything else to be said. His job was done. Annith moved more slowly, rising to her feet at a leisurely pace. She crooned a farewell to Avartiath, eyes swirling a hazy blue.

And I was hoping you could tell me what it means,
To be alive when you survive what happened,
Down in New Orleans I’ve seen the news, and I'm confused,
Cause its grey where once was green.

[arratra]

Avartiath inclined his head in response, rumbling his own farewell.

"Be well, Annith. Yours as well," he said, his tone pleasant.

The two Smith brothers glanced at each other, and then shared a grin. Here the family resemblance was most obvious, as their grins were identical.
"Even if you don't Impress," A'tra said, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder, "I'm glad that you can Stand on the Sands themselves. It's not an honour many who don't become Riders are given."
"Thanks," Matren said, "What colour do you think I'll get?"
"Who knows?" A'tra replied, shrugging, "Avartiath's hardly a normal black; he's grown far larger than most blacks. For all I know, you might get an Iron or Bronze... Still, any dragon's a good dragon," he continued, rubbing Avartiath's eye ridge affectionately, "These days I can hardly imagine what it was like before I Impressed... It's true I've always had this ability to touch minds, I guess, but the connection is nowhere near as deep as it is with Margras and Avartiath..."
"You do realise that I don't understand," Matren said slowly, wrinkling his nose.
"Sorry," A'tra said, raising his hands in mock surrender, "But if you Impress... You'll understand."