Melting

Characters Ivaylo Eryzan Sabrael
Synopsis Candidates melt while talking about eggs and future paths.
Out-of-Character Date December 14, 2014

Hatching Galleries
From this vantage point, you can look over the balcony to the Sands below. The seating here stretches out around the perimeter of the Sands, the rows of seating rising high above. The benches are wooden, simple bleachers, and the stone steps have been worn down along their center from turns of foot-traffic. Above the bleachers, the ledge of the galleries is pocked and marked from dragonclaws where dragons have perched to watch the hatchings as well.


Even born and raised at southern Boll, Eryzan must admit that it'll take him more time to adjust to Igen's heat. And if he does suffer from it at first, why not going to the hottest place in the Weyr : Hatching galleries. With his elbows against the balcony rail, his amber eyes scan the sands below. He does, from time to time, tug at the collar of his too warm shirt. One day or another he'll have to switch for a lighter fabric if he doesn't want to dry up within the next days.

If there is a pole, there's a good chance that small Sabrael is hiding behind it, gathering up her courage to introduce herself to more of the candidates. Her hair is tied back in a mass, as she takes a deep breath and steps quietly around the pole. "Um, hi." Her voice is soft, almost inaudible as she clasps her hands in front of her and stares at the floor.

As a northerner, the heat of Igen is definitely different. Ivaylo has forgone wearing anything with sleeves, wearing pants that are easy to roll up when he's not working. He even carries a skin of water, in attempts to beat the heat. Despite the heat, he makes his way up to the galleries and makes his way to the closet ledge to observe the eggs. Though, he does pause to note Sabrael's presence and offers the girl a cheerful smile and a wink. "Sabrael." And then, he considers Eryzan. "You look like you're going to melt. Water?" He offers the skin out as he finishes his approach to the balcony railing.

Eryzan perks, shaking himself from his reverie. Or was it the beginning of his coma? Seems like someone just saved his life here. "Oh yes…Thank you!!" the young man accepts gladly. Another thing he will have to think about. Water. Forcing himself not to empty the gently offered skin in one single avid sip, he pulls it from his lips with a noisy 'Ahaaaa' sound of satisfaction. "I'm Eryzan." he declares, handing the skin back. Sabrael is also noticed and he dis his head, allowing his lips to curve into a smile.

Oops, she looked Ivaylo in the eye. For just a split second, but even that is long enough for a bright flush to rise on her cheeks. Mentally she berates herself and wrings her hands. "Ah, Sabrael. It's.. nice to meet you. Um, it.. is a little hot." She only stumbles a bit in her shy attempt at small talk. Too bad her hair is tied back, or she might try to hide behind it.

"Welcome." Ivaylo grins a touch wider towards Eryzan as he accepts the skin. He leans over the rail, slightly as he considers the eggs. At the introduction, the smith turns and considers the other man. "Ivaylo." He takes the skin and clips it to his belt easily. As Sabrael flushes, the man chuckles just a bit. "Did you want some water, too?" He's clearly not against sharing!

With the blessed coolness of the water he just drank, Eryzan stops sweating, at least not that much. "Sable. Ivaylo." he rolls both of their name, grinning. "Nice to meet you both. As Ivaylo looks at the eggs, he also turns his gaze, offering Sabrael another smile, a silent invitation to join for the staring. He knows how embarrassing an extreme shyness can be so he doesn't comment. He just tries to look harmless. That he is. Really. "Another Weyr, same sands…" Zan muses, placing an elbow on the rail again. "Where are you guys from by the way?"

Sabrael's head shakes quickly, a silent no to Ivaylo's offer, softened in the rejection with a soft, "But thank you." With them both turned away from her it's easier for the small teen to continue, latching onto that last comment of Eryzan's. "You… were a candidate too? Um, Ilyse was too, um, Half Moon Weyr."

"And you, Eryzan." His gaze flickers between the eggs and other candidates as he shifts to lean one arm agains the railing while the other lingers at his side. Sabrael questions the other on his previous candidacy and Ivaylo considers the other man again before he's staring at the eggs again. "From up north, myself."

Eryzan turns and now rests his back on the rail, facing Sabrael, Ivaylo on his right. "Ilyse? You know her too I take it?" he asks the girl with another grin. "Fun that you ask, I was among the leftovers at Half Moon." To the other man, he nods. "Originally I'm from Boll. I heard about Igen's heat but it's only words until you try experience it…"

"Oh!" The red had even just left Sabrael's cheeks when the one-two of embarrassment from Ezyzan turning around and him being a compatriot of Ilyse, thus of COURSE, knows she was there already causes that brightness to rise on her cheeks. She shrinks just slightly, her hands wringing about themselves as she forces them to settle on the rail. Nonchalant, nonchalant, she can DO THIS. "Oh, yeah, she, um, she has the cot next to mine. Um. It's… not always so hot. I'm from.. just a little north. Not as far as Ivaylo." Firmly she snaps her lips shut and stares at the eggs. Just ignore that soft bit of word vomit alright?

"I hear Boll's not too heated, at least. I had heard about how hot it gets, but…" A vague gesture. He's clearly attempting to adapt to the heat as well. "I didn't expect it to be as hot as it is." Ivaylo may have been to the Infirmary, thus the water skin. He considers Sabrael with a slight smile, allowing the word vomit to happen without so much as a single breath of interruption. "Definitely not as far. I'll be surprised if I don't completely melt into a puddle by the end of this." He winks at his own self-deprecation before chuckling.

The conversation was turning nicely but then Eryzan starts to show signs of discomfort again, swallowing with difficulty. He can't help but jump on Ivaylo's comment about the heat and nods. The brisk move causing the young man to frown. An obvious witness of the beginning of a headache. "Look, I'm sorry. We just met…" he begins looking at Sabrael and Ivaylo alternatively. "…and I don't want to strip before you the first day but…I /really/ have to get some lighter clothes. "See you a bit later if I don't get lost or…reduced into a puddle?" The soft chuckling escaping his mouth echo slightly as he makes his way, waving.

Wait, STRIP? Sabral's head jerks up to stare right at Eryzan for a second, surprise and shock all over her features. "Well, um. I. Um." Deep breath Sabrael. Gathering herself she gives an almost visible shake and raises a hand at Eryzan's departing back. "Nice to… meet you. Um. Is… it… always like that?" The question is directly quietly at Ivaylo.

Ivaylo snorts softly in amusement. "Take care of yourself. Try not to melt." He waves an idle farewell towards the departing candidate before he looks to Sabrael in question. "Meeting people? Depends on the person. I think he was just hot, and speaking his mind. Can't say I know him well enough to determine. But, he's not bad." He gives the girl a pleasant smile. "You seem to be improving."

“It’s… a little easier. I guess… you almost get use to anything.” Sabrael settles herself against the edge, standing on her tip toes to give her a better view over the railing. The eggs below draw her eye and she traces the lumps, calling to mind the different thoughts that they had given her throughout the egg touchings. “Ivaylo… are you… scared, a little?”

Ivaylo nods an approval, "that it does. It just takes time. I'm glad you're doing better." That pleasant smile shifts into a grin for a brief moment before he's watching her approach the railing. Once she's situated, though, he returns his gaze towards the eggs. "Honestly? Not really. I hear if you pay attention, keep ready to move, you'll be okay." The young man rolls his shoulders before he turns fully to face the eggs, draping both arms over the rail and shifting into a more relaxed stance. "As far as Impressing, I don't think that's anything to be frightening of. Not that I think I'll Impress." He winks at Sabrael. "You've got nothing to be afraid of. Promise."

“I think I’m more afraid of being stepped on.” Faint humor breaks into Sabrael’s voice as she looks upwards at the taller young man. The one on one gives her just enough room to relax as she lifts herself up just a little on the rail, her feet leaving the ground. “But… it’s been good. I’m glad I got to meet everyone.”

"I'd offer my shoulders, but then I'll get stepped on." Ivaylo offers in a teasing response. "If it makes you feel better, you can stand by me." He tilts a look to the girl as she lifts herself onto the rail. He is keeping a mindful eye that she doesn't fall. "Agreed. I'm glad I came. It's a nice change. Even if I might end up melting."

Sabrael turns her head as she lets herself down, toes touching the ground again. She has no desire to flip over onto the sands and have the gold there get annoyed at her. Reaching out an elbow she nudges Ivaylo slightly. “There’s too much of you to melt.” They’re an interesting contrast, Sabrael and Ivalyo. She stands almost a foot and half shorter than him. “I know it’ll be okay. Just nervous.”

Once Sabrael settles down on the ground, Ivaylo is subtly relaxing. No worries about needing to suddenly dive to keep her from landing on the Sands and potentially having an angry gold chase after her. As she nudges him the young man chuckles and gives a gentle nudge back. “I’m sure it’s possible. It’s hot enough.” The young man grins before reaching out to ruffle the girl’s hair before leaning back over the rail. “I’m sure that’s normal. Your whole life changes thing.”

“Hey now…” Sabrael reaches upwards at that hair ruffling and brushes a hand through it to try to get it to some semblance of order. It may be a bit of a lost cause, the heat causes it to curl even more wildly than normal. But her tone lacks any ire. “Why do you want to impress?” A curious question, delivered as Sabrael looks upwards at him, eyes bright.

Ivalyo laughs as she tries to restore order to her hair, the grin staying in place in lieu of the laughter. At her question, he turns around and leans his back against the rail, arms folding across his chest. “I don’t.” He meets her gaze, smile lingering still. “I don’t think I will, either. I accepted because I was asked.”

“Really?” It’s not so much that the smile on her face fades as it is that the smile is replaced with a quizzical narrowing of brow and wrinkling of forehead. “Is there something you want to do more? I mean…” She realizes how bold her questions are getting and she drops her gaze downwards to the sands again, one toe digging into the stone of the galleries. “It’s okay if you don’t want to say. I don’t mean to be rude.”

“Not really. Maybe get a Masters knot? I just got my Journeyman, it’s likely I won’t see that knot for awhile.” It’s not entirely an answer, but it is sort of answer. Ivaylo waves a hand for her apologies, “it’s not rude. What about you, Sabrael? Anything you want to be when you grow up?”

“It’s weird… I kind of thought I was grown up? Except here… I’m really not all that grown up. And not just because I’m short.” Sabrael reaches out a hand to illustrate her lack of height. “I thought I’d stay at home, get married and maybe run the ferry one day like my parents. It all happened so fast!” First dragon she’d ever really seen, and a decision had to be made right then. “I’ve been thinking now though… Ilyse liked my painting. Maybe… I should see about that. See if others like them too?” Gray blue eyes are speculative as they move past Ivaylo and out onto the eggs. “And even if something does happen, I mean… riders are crafters too.”

“How old are you?” Ivaylo wonders, giving the girl a curious look over. “Shells, are you old enough to get married?” His expression grows skeptical, a brow lifting upwards. Then, it furrows and he shrugs tilting his gaze to consider the galleries. “You could do that. I haven’t seen any of your painting, just your paints.” He tilts another look in her direction, then turns to the eggs. “I don’t see why you couldn’t do both.”

At the shocked expression Sabrael just grins, rising up onto her toes and then settling back down again. “Fourteen. I guess it’s a little young to think about it but… not too young. My mother got married at sixteen. Dad was twenty five though.” It’s a brief look into the world of a small holder. Sabrael seems perfectly relaxed at the idea. “I like the idea… maybe of doing both. Or just doing one. I just have to buck up the courage to ask who I should talk to.” It’s easier when it’s one on one, like now, and by now the other candidates are less strangers and more friends. To outsiders though? Sabrael still ducks and hides.

“I thought most Hold girls were married at fourteen or fifteen?” Ivaylo notes idly, then nods for her explanation of her parents’ marriage. “If you don’t Impress, do your painting. If you do, try for both.” Simple solution! “You could always ask someone who you feel comfortable talking with to help. A middle person as a go between until you’re more comfortable. I couldn’t tell you how to get started, though. All I know is Smithing.”

“Sometimes!” Sabrael’s voice is bright, not at all put upon for the prospect of her future. “Do…. you know someone I could ask? Maybe.. are any of the candidates former harpers?” Because those are the ones who do art right?

“Well then, you’ve that option if you choose to take it.” Ivaylo has nothing against those traditions, it seems. As for her question, the man is quiet for a moment, considering. “Someone who is good with people seems like the best choice for someone you can ask. There’s… I think there are at least two candidates who were Harpers at one point. You could check with them, too.” He supplies no names, however.

“Thanks Ivaylo.” There is warmth in Sabrael’s voice as she steps away from the rail. The sands get one last sweep of her eyes, more speculative now than before. “I’ll ask.” It might take her some time, but surely by the time the eggs hatch she’ll have gotten around to introducing herself and asking the other candidates what they do. “I should get back… I’ll see you later? In the barracks?”

"You're welcome. Worst they can do is say no, and that's not so bad." Ivaylo promises with a wink. As she makes to leave, he does the same. "Of course. Let me see some of your paintings, some time?" He gives her a two fingered salute before he, too, departs.

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