| Characters | Iwa Ligeia Talisyn |
| Synopsis | Iwa was asked to lead a candidate class and answer questions. Really you could have asked /anything/. |
| Out-of-Character Date | October 21, 2021 |
Living Cavern
It's evening, the dinner meal has been cleared and the living caverns cleaned of most of the errant dishes. It's chilly outside without the sun and the hearths have been stoked to keep it at bay. Iwa comes in from outside, quick purposeful strides that move her from one spot to the next. No need to linger outside tonight and the caverns warmth is clearly welcome. She moves inside with a lifetimes familiarity, having a pair of tables pushed together near one of the hearths where she takes a seat. She looks more relaxed than she's likely to feel as she settles and waits. Small pile of tarts are brought on platters to each table for it seems something is expected, while another caverns worker brings her some klah.
Tarts! It's entirely possible that Ligeia's father had some involvement in them, in truth, but she won't know unless she eats one. She putters into the cavern with a few other candidates and, naturally, gravitates to a table with treats and promptly parks her butt down in a chair. Oh-so-slowly, she reeeaches out to try to snag one of the tarts to pull it closer to her in a (very failed) bid to be surreptitious.
Word has spread, and Candidates trickle in, Talisyn among them. He's just one of the straggling many, no one special, nothing noteworthy, drifting in on the evening breeze to join the growing crowd. Mossy eyes flicker, studying Iwa, tarts, and the not-so-subtle Ligeia; he might smile a bit at the latter, but he says nothing to draw attention to her efforts. Instead, he merely offers the Weyrwoman the expected salute and then stuffs his hands in the pockets of his pants and wanders towards a seat that puts him in the midst of the others.
Iwa sits relaxed as if she could stay forever like that as candidates filter in and get settled. It isn't the most forml of settings and yet there's that bit of organiation behind it. As the flows trickles down and most seems to have come who are coming she clears her throat lightly. "Good Evening. If it hasn't bee said before, welcome to Igen! Even though we will still be searching for a few more sevendays as the eggs harden this is likely the bulk of your candidate classmates. I hope you are all settling in nicely and enjoying your stay. I was asked to have a few words but really I can't think of much to say. I've only recently bvecome Weyrwoman here, and I think you've all met Toruth or at least her eggs once by now. I've been doing a lot of the normal paperwork things for many turns to help the previous Weyrwoman so I don't really expect many changes, although the Weyrleader and I are still figuring that part out. I thought I might be able to, well at least try to answer any questions you might have." she looks over the assembled candidates.
Tart? Got. Ligeia nibbles at the edges of it, whittling away the crusty bit before going for the middle. Talisyn is spotted and, before Iwa begins to speak, the teen decides to make the (fortunately figurative) leap from her table to the one the older Candidate's at. "Hi," is offered in a conspiratorial whisper and then she goes quiet when the Senior Weyrwoman speaks. There's some head-bobbing and some thoughtful noises - but questions? Her face scrunches some before: "Oh. Uh- what is your favorite pastry?" Another Candidate chimes in a moment later, a young lad who was formerly a Smith, "How long until they hatch, Senior Weyrwoman?"
He tries, but Talisyn can't quite bite back the smile at Ligeia's question, and leans back in his chair as she settles in beside him. "Hi," he murmurs in return, green eyes lazily watching the Weyrwoman to gauge her reaction to both inquiries. He doesn't make one of his own, not quite yet, but a nervous titter from a trio of girls nearby preceeds a quavering, "Is it true that baby dragons eat Candidates they don't like? I don't want to get eaten," from one of them; which one may not be entirely clear, as they're clustered together until they appear to be a blob-shaped girl with three heads and wide, fascinated eyes.
Iwa lets out a small breath as after a pause someone does speak up. Whew, it's much easier to focus on providing answers than figuring out some speech or lecture it seems. She takes the questions as she hears them. "Me? Well I like pie personally. Tarts are much like that, mini pies those are fine too." surprise surprise that one of the weyrwomans favorites would be being served. I don't have a particular fruit favorite, any is fine." it looks like the desert isn't finding much disfavor among the group eihter as she tackles the next. "Well it is hard to tell exactly when they are ready but I'm afraid we have two or so sevendays to go yet. It'll be easier to narrow down when it gets close to a couple days and then they usually have youguys start carrying your robes around. When that happens you know it's close. Like ay baby though, they will come when they are ready." there's a few moments of quiet and then thankfully another question to which she hmms a little "Eat? No, they are hungry but they don't eat candidates. They do however have very sharp claws and as you can imagine they are a bit clumsy often after they have just hatched so injuries can occur if you aren't paying attention." or have realyl bad luck.
The middle bit of the tart is eaten in a trio of shark-like *chomp*s. Ligeia sneaks another, even if there's no need to; it's the principle of the thing, you see. But, this one ends up snuck in front of Talisyn. And, if it's not taken? A second will join it. "Does Toruth like people food?" She has the good sense not to scoff at the poor girls with their seemingly singular question; it's a fair concern! And, of course, being mauled is also a risk and she nods along with the air of someone who's heard it all before. The former-Smith puffs out a breath. "Thank you, Weyrwoman." He doesn't have more questions, but another, a young lady and Healer-turned-Candidate wonders, "How often do people get hurt?"
Or have a junior weyrwoman substituting barbecue sauce for your shampoo. Wait, what? Slumping down into his seat until his head is just about even with Ligeia's, Talisyn murmurs, "Wonder if that's the same set that I heard were planning to stuff meat under their robes to attract the hatchlings to them," to the younger Candidate. "Bet that'd put the lie to the Weyrwoman's words." He could try for more concern, at least. The snuck tart is eyed thoughtfully and the Harper-Candidate is quick to snag it, his fingers a blur as it's there one moment and gone the next, disappearing like magic into the atmosphere. What tart? Certainly not the one neatly popped into his mouth. No tart here. From behind, a young man calls out, "One of the riders said we had to cut up the food for the hatchlings. Do we really have to handle raw meat?" His voice is faint and just a bit squeamish.
Iwa sees the tart piles dwindling, goodgood. Happy candidates, at least Igen's hospitality is apparently what she wants it to be. "Well Toruth likes cream puffs. Her little power pellets she likes to call them. They aren't really good for her but a treat now and then doesn't seem to hurt. Mostly she prefers a fat herdbeast once a sevenday or so. For as big as she is she's surprisingly light eater." she pauses to sip at her klah as her voice cracks before continuing "The healers are always at the edge of the sands. It's not unusual for there to be a few scratches from clumsy or overeager hatchlings. Feet get stepped on or a hatchlign may inadvertantly knock over their rider in their haste to impress. Broken bones, or deep wounds are rare. I can only remember one death in my turns here but that candidate had tried to force impression." her tone of voice is definitely disapproving and she listens to the candidates murmur amongst themselves. If she hears anything in particular its not commented on but filed away for later dealings as she addresses the questions asked "Well the first two meals are free if you would, but after that if you impress yes. You will need to cut up meat for your dragon until they are able to do so themselves, about a month or so whe they'll have developed the muscles and coordination to tear it off the carcasses themselves. You'll just have to heard the beasts over and kill them at that point until your dragons can fully hunt on their own." charming. "Most find they don't mind when its for their dragon. Impression is very special." and apparently life altering in more than one way.
There's a look to Talisyn when he snaps up that tart all lickety-split - and before she can get the other tart on top! "Fine," is low-murmured and the tart is put in front of him anyway while Ligeia's ears are trained on the Weyrwoman's words. "Thank you! I'll remember that." Will she? Really? Her father might have his doubts, but that's neither here nor there. To Talisyn again, she murmurs, "I bet they are. As if they could hide meat under white robes; they'd look a mess." Another tart is taken up for her nibbling on, her attention darting this way and that as people ask their questions. The Healer nods a little at Iwa's words, her forehead furrowing oh-so-delicately in thought. But there are no more questions from her quarter and it's a Weaver that chimes in with, "Do we have to make our own robes? And- if we do, can we decorate them at all?"
See, some people want to feed him to baby dragons, and some people just want to feed him. It's even odds which Talisyn prefers, but as Oddisa isn't here to baste him, he'll take Ligeia's attention - and tart - instead. The laugh lines around his eyes deepen briefly with his smile and he skims his finger along the seam of his pants, still watching Iwa with all of the expectant attention she could wish. "Stuff it in burlap bags; dragons'll smell it through the weave but it might not stain before they have a chance to investigate." Of course, afterwards, it's quite possible they'll have trouble discerning just where the blood is coming from, at least in Syne's active imagination. The weaver's question garners his interest and he studies them with narrowed eyes. "If we have to make our own robes, does the Weyr care if we make them, or barter with someone else to?" Because you really don't want him wandering around in his own sewing. Not if you don't want a show.
Iwa sucks in a breath "Yes you can make your own but that would seem to be quite a waste. We have plenty from previous classes you can reuse. Just make sure they are clean and any holes are sewn up. You can help each other, it shouldn't be necessary to pay anyone. They need to fit on you and not fall off but that's about it. No decorations are allowed. Footwear is highly recommended but again, just plain boots or sandals." and from her expression its like what's the point? "We don't want the hatchlings distracted in any negative ways and you'll only wear it for an hour or so. If the dragon wants you it wot be because of any fashion choice." she looks around the group as they mull over the immediate future needs. Her gaze goes distant a few moments in that ridery way before refocusing. Hmm "Toruth wonders if any of you believe in ghosts?"
Nibblenibblenibble, chomp chomp chomp. Her nose scrunches again at Talisyn's suggestion, with a sly look to the girls in question. "So, so gross. And it'd stink, too, out in that heat." A shudder follows at some memory or another. And while talk of robes continues, she listens, but it's with a distracted ear until that question arises from Toruth. "Oh. My grandmother told me stories about spooky things she's seen," Ligeia chirps. "She never said they were ghosts, but they still sounded scary." Meanwhile, the Weaver's disappointment is palpable; just utterly and completely crestfallen. "Oh. Oh, I see. Okay. Thank you, Weyrwoman." Too dejected to even answer the question about ghosts, the Weaver drowns sorrow by munching down a tart.
"I mean, who's going to notice white on white embroidery?" Talisyn's question might be directed at Ligeia, but unlike previous mutters, this one has enough breath behind it to shove it Weaver-wards. Not that he's looking to see if they can hear what he's saying over the sound of their sorrow-snacking. Iwa's question garners a thoughtful stare. "Most regions of Pern have some form of superstition involving the concept of ghosts or spirits," he remarks neutrally. "For instance, in Nerat, they believe that the jungles beyond the Hold are guarded by those who have perished in exploring them. And remote holds in the High Reaches often speak of spirits and ghosts who lure unwary travelers into the passes then bury them in snow." Nothing suggests one way or the other whether he believes.
Iwa looks among the crowd as the question filters out and responses sprinkle back. "Indeed, there are many different perspectives and stories. The desert around often plays tricks with folks and the wind when it blows in the bowl can be.. interesting." to say the least, but not like a certain queen is seeing the haunted spirits of dead candidates on the sands or anything." she might be tempted to share, the fire cracks loudly behind her sending a few sparks in the air at the topics arises. Merely sap, compelte coincidence but a few might jump. "I'm afraid Toruth's also needing me back soon, so any last questions I can help with right now?"
"Fort Weyr is far more haunted," Ligeia intones, her voice taking on a strange, flat affect that's accented oddly. But she's right back to her Ierne-splashed Igenite a moment later: "The weird howl and mirages are spooky, even in summer." The sizzle and pop of sap and knots in the fire? They don't trouble her - but a few others lurch and gasp. She slants a look to Talisyn, lips pursed in thought for a moment- but that moment passes when Toruth threatens to abscond with Iwa - if via long distance communication. "I don't, but thank you, Weyrwoman!" For the questions and the tarts, surely, for she'll not leave without a few more. She's has the metabolism to handle it.
Questions Syne has aplenty - but as he prefers to seek answers on his own, he does not voice them, merely offers a lazy smile to the goldrider and a dip of his head. "Thank you, Weyrwoman," he agrees, his voice melding with the chorus from the other Candidates until it's not entirely certain he actually spoke at all. His pale eyes linger briefly on her, then he tilts his head down, murmuring for Ligeia, "If you think Fort's mirages are interesting, you should consider the ladies that haunt the Telgari lakes, said to drown any passing man on the off-chance he might have been responsible for breaking a woman's heart."
Iwa gives it a moment before heaving herself upright "Well thank you all for coming. Hope I was able to answer some of your questions, and if you think of anything further just ask." she offers a warm smile and its her turn to grab one of the few remaining tarts. "Have a good night." cause there's totally nothing spooky around, apparently only old long white ghostly robes to go mend into 'good enough' shape. She won't hear of any shenanigans now will she? A wave and she's off before someone comes up with the more difficult questions to answer.
