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Trust is a Fragile Thing; {{Nerilan}}
Topic Started: Jun 15 2013, 12:23 AM (274 Views)
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T'rran stared down into his cup with a look of quiet concentration, as if he was trying to search for a solution in the murky liquid. In reality, he was just trying to avoid standing out, to fade into the background like he was so used to doing before he became a candidate master. Before anyone knew who he was.

Sometimes he wished things would go back to the way they had been. That no one knew his name at all.

Despite the stress, the utter audacity of some of his candidates, the lack of gratitude, T'rran enjoyed his job. Before Merilla had singled him out and dumped him into the position, he'd had no friends. Only his wingmates had known his name and even then, none of them knew him beyond that. He'd been thrust into a position where every candidate that came through Vaioa knew who he was and every young rider did too.

And he'd caught the eye of the man who would ultimately pull him out of his shell. That man was somewhere across the room, steadfastly ignoring him and jays, that burned. I gave you everything, he thought bitterly. I trusted you. We were friends.

Friends and coworkers and...well lovers once. Just once. Q'wyn hadn't bothered with him really since the mating flight and it was pretty plain to T'rran that that had been what he'd wanted all along. A quick roll in the hay and then to be left alone. Once he'd gotten what he wanted, he had no need to be friends with the bluerider anymore. The concern he'd shown in the infirmary had been that of a coworker, not a friend, not a lover. If Q'wyn really cared, he would have had that talk he'd promised instead of running away. Again.

Now they weren't even coworkers anymore. T'rran pushed the cup of klah away and rested his chin in his hands. He ignored the gentle, soothing touch of his dragon and tried to think about anything but Q'wyn. It had been months, he should be over this by now. He had candidates to think of, a fresh new batch would probably be rolling in shortly and he should be out fussing over the ones that hadn't Impressed. They needed reassurance and guidance.

Instead, he was sitting around the dining hall, moping like a teenager.
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Wingsecond RhiasGarnet Melacyth#ccoo3d
Weyrling T'rinnBrown EncantothperuPosted Image
Wingrider BikGrey Auralyth#7a7a7aPosted ImagePosted Image
Wingrider JiirBlue OkouthmidnightbluePosted Image
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Nerilan never had been a candidate.

She had been a happy kitchen worker, content to make bubbly pies and clear dishes for the rest of her life. That wouldn't have been such a bad life, really. She had spent her days laughing with the dragonriders and weyrfolk she served, flitting from table to table and sliding easily into their conversations. Her set of friends changed from night to night, depending on whoever happened to be present. There was something about the atmosphere of the Dining Hall--the cheery lighting, the constant buzz of conversation, the flickering hearth, the aromas wafting from the kitchens--that made her want to talk.

Nerilan was a rider now, but that much hadn't changed.

She strode though the hall, weaving among the tables, already munching on a meatroll because she had been too hungry and too impatient to wait until she found a seat to start eating. Her eyes scanned for familiar friends; seeing none, she shifted her search toward a stranger who might be receptive of her presence. Her gaze landed on a redheaded man slumped in front of a cup of klah.

Deciding he could use some company, Nerilan put on the easy smile she'd always worn as a kitchen worker and adjusted her path. She slid onto the bench across from him with a bright, "Mind if I join you?"

Nerilan had never been a candidate, and thus she was perhaps the only young rider who didn't have a clue who T'rran was. The man in front of her was no Candidatemaster--he was just some glum, freckle-faced ginger who looked like he needed some company.
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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So absorbed was he in trying to be invisible, T'rran nearly jumped out of his skin when a girl slid into the seat across from him. All those months working on his confidence and self esteem, working on learning how to be an authority figure, and he still didn't have it in him to say I'd rather be alone. The truth was, he really didn't. Once his barriers had fallen and people had wormed their way into his life, T'rran had found he craved company. Sometimes he really missed the days when he couldn't have cared less.

"Er...n-no, I don't mind."

At least he didn't know this woman. And if her first impressions of him were "nervous ginger with a stutter", he could live with that. At least she wasn't acutely aware of his personal issues like the other candidate masters and some of his students. If he focused on her, he could ignore Q'wyn's presence across the room. He could pretend the greenrider didn't exist at all.

"I'm T'rran," he mumbled around a sip of klah. No other dragonrider in their right mind would be drinking the stuff this time of night but he had lessons to plan. "I'm sorry. I don't believe we've met before?"
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Wingsecond RhiasGarnet Melacyth#ccoo3d
Weyrling T'rinnBrown EncantothperuPosted Image
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The easy smile widened into a grin, warm and genuine. While Nerilan thought he could have used some company, sometimes people thought otherwise, and so she was pleased that he did not ask her to leave. He didn't look particularly happy to see her, mumbling so morosely into his mug, but he said he didn't mind--that was good enough for her.

Knowing that her place at the table was now secure, Nerilan dug into her food.

"No, we haven't," she agreed after swallowing a mouthful of bread. "I'm Nerilan. It's good to meet you, T'rran." She might have offered a hand, but it would have been awkward over the table, and her hands were busy with her plate anyway. By Faranth, she was hungry.

Her eyes dropped to the drink in his hands, and she realized belatedly that he was drinking klah. Her dark eyebrows raised a fraction. "Klah, at this hour? Did you pull the short straw and get a late watch or something?"
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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"No, I haven't gotten watchduty in turns, thank Faranth." At least things could be worse; he could be sitting on the freezing Star Stones all night with his thoughts. T'rran answered her warm smile with half of one and took a long drink. "I'm a candidate master. I'd planned to stay up, go over lesson plans. Pitch 'em to Merilla and V'ash in the morning."

He didn't say that there was no way he was going to be sleeping without utterly exhausting himself, but that might be clear anyways, judging by the obviously distracted and somewhat distressed state he was in. He was glad suddenly, that he had this girl to focus on. Maybe she might even have some suggestions.

"We try to vary things up. We do all the boring things like dragon bathing and exercise and basic dragon anatomy, but lately we've been focusing on lessons that weed out the people not suited to the lifestyle."

Why not just come out and say you enjoy scaring the candidates?

Because I don't, not really.

Riiight.

"It's ah...nice to meet you, Nerilan," he added a bit awkwardly. Over her shoulder he could see Q'wyn get up from his seat. T'rran's eyes fixated furiously on the man for a moment, watching as he put his tray away and retreated from the dining hall without so much as sparing him a glance. Shame and rage swept over him in a hot wave.
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Nerilan raised her eyebrows, questions forming on her lips. How had he avoided watch duty? What was his secret? Nerilan hated watch duty; she'd do anything to get out of it. Yet he answered her soon enough, and she closed her mouth and smothered her questions, interested to hear what he had to say. She hadn't met any of the candidate masters before; she nodded as if she had any idea who Merilla and V'ash were.

"Oh, Faranth," Nerilan breathed finally, "that doesn't sound boring at all." She paused for a drink. "I wish I had learned all that stuff before I Impressed my Almyth. Would have been helpful. Hah!

"But anyway, that sounds like a good idea, weeding out the unsuitable candidates. I never imagined being a dragonrider would be so difficult. It's definitely not for everyone."

Around the same time Nerilan realized she was beginning to ramble, she also realized that T'rran's attention was no longer on her. Stupefied by the intensity of his gaze, she threw a look over her shoulder and scanned the room behind her. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, yet when she turned back to T'rran, he looked even unhappier than he had been when she first approached him.

In spite of the fact that this man was a perfect stranger, Nerilan did not hesitate. "T'rran, is there something wrong?"
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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"No, I'm fine."

T'rran was a terrible liar, always had been. But if being a candidate master had taught him anything, it was how to compose himself in stressful situations. He swept the anguish from his face and met Nerilan's concerned gaze with a strained smile. Q'wyn was gone at least; he didn't have to worry about being noticed or...not noticed at all. Maybe a clean break was easier. T'rran wasn't sure he'd like what the greenrider would have to say if he confronted him anyways.

He still wanted to know why though.

"I'm sorry. It's been a very long couple of days." This wasn't a lie at least. "Did you say you never got any sort of lessons of that nature? How is that?"


(terribly sorry about the length D:)
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Weyrling T'rinnBrown EncantothperuPosted Image
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Nerilan considered herself a pretty decent judge of people; and she thought to herself that the man sitting across from her was most definitely not fine. I'm fine--as if she hadn't heard that lie a thousand times; as if she hadn't used it herself. Maybe she would have believed him, but the flash of pain in his features had been unmistakable, even though she couldn't see it now.

But whatever was eating away at him, he clearly didn't want to talk about it, and Nerilan could respect that.

"Fine," she answered primly, allowing just a hint of skepticism to show in her tone, before she dropped the subject altogether and grinned as she thought of how to answer his question.

"Well, you see, I was never a candidate." She paused there, remembering she still had a plate of food in front of her and chomping down on a tuber. "I just worked right here in these kitchens." She made a broad, vague gesture to the room around her with her fork.

"Then I went to a hatching and accidentally Impressed a dragon. Almyth just picked me out of the stands."
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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