Dragons Who Maybe Possibly But Not Definitely Eat People

Characters Al'dru, Eresai, Eryzan, Janja, Kytaer, Sabrael, Vivka
Synopsis Candidates discuss the diets of a particular gold (guest appearance by her rider) and either lie or don't to one another.
Out-of-Character Date December 21, 2014

Igen Weyr - Inner Caverns
Igen's inner cavern is smaller than the main living cavern, but isn't small by any stretch of the imagination. Tables and comfortable chairs are placed about the room, clustered together, and often-occupied spinning wheels and a large loom sit in one corner. A small corner-table holds klah and various crudites and appetizers, refreshed constantly by the kitchen's staff. The walls and much of the floor are covered with a mosaic of colorful rugs, many handcrafted by Igen residents, dampening noises and giving the cavern a more intimate feel than its size immediately would suggest


Eresai looks kind of adorable, at least according to the auntie he's helping into a chair at the table she shares with her fellow knitters. He's got a smock on to cover his work clothes and must be on caverns detail this morning for there's a broom and dustpan set off to one side where he must've met the woman in need of his arm. His shy smiles and blushes are keeping him silent as she prattles on about how he'd look lovely in a hat of light blue. "Janja would be pleased," is his only comment, though he sounds quietly amused before he's bidding her farewell and turning to start collecting abandoned mugs from one of the other tables. A candidate's work is never done!

Eryzan emerges from the noisy living caverns arms heavily loaded with pitchers of what seems to be hot Klah. He's humming as usual but sniffling sounds can be heard regularly as he ambles more in, placing pitchers on tables there and here. What's happening with him? A closer look and it's obvious he's somewhat…crying? And his hands, what happened to them? He doesn't have fingers anymore it seems but bandaged appendicles…

Eresai stops short with his hands full of dirty mugs when he sees Eryzan. Can he be blamed? "… What happened to you?" The concern is written plainly on both his face and carried in his voice. It's likely that his concern isn't just for the tears and the bandages but.. if this can happen to Eryzan, it can happen to any of them. Is someone on a candidate-de-fingering spree?!

Eryzan perks, sniffling again, tears watering his eyes and blurring his vision. "Oh, Hey…Eresai? How are you?" He gets rid off his last pitchers and perks again, looking at his hurt fingers then back at his fellow candidate. "What? That? Oh, don't worry. I'm just….bad at dicing onions." And that should explain the tears too. Wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve, he lightly chuckles. "What did you think happened?"

"I don't know," Eresai is a little too focused on the bandage and the explanation for the niceties of hellos. He does look a little relieved by the explanation, even if he offers his imagination's wild alternative theory, "Feyruth decided she needed a snack and couldn't wait long enough to get to the feeding grounds? Or axe-wielding cook. There are a couple of them in there that are crazy." This last is added with an air of secrecy, as if one of them might appear from under a table to finish the job started on Eryzan's finger.

Eryzan bursts out laughing, tears on the corner of his eyes again but for a totally different reason now. "Didn't know you had such a creative imagination, Eresai. Now…should I be scared of the cook?….Or someone else maybe?" He doesn't comment on Feyruth's appetite but secretly wonders how a pregnant rider could affect a dragon's behavior. It certainly does have effects. "I was aware heat can be hard to endure but to go nuts…Who's the craziest?"

"Yes," Eresai confirms emphatically. "Those cooks.." But then, he gives a furtive glance around to see who might be listening. There is a group of aunties at that one table, not so old that their tongues don't wag swiftly indeed. He wisely chooses to shut up. His hands are still full of dirty mugs as he faces Eryzan who's recently refreshed the klah pots on the tables despite the bandage on his hand and the traces of tears in his eyes. "I've said too much already," is his earnest answer for who's the craziest. His hazel gaze falls to his mugs and he shifts to the nearby bin to deposit them. "Do you have more onions to chop or won't they let you with that..?" He nods his head backwards without turning back around, probably meaning to indicate the bandage.

Kytaer has arrived.

Sabrael has arrived.

Calming down and recovering his breath, Eryzan raises his hands and wiggles his fingers in front of Eresai. "No bandages left. I've been kindly asked to refresh Klah and such. A polite way to throw me out of the kitchens." He doesn't lower his voice or anything and follows Eresai's gaze on that group of aunties. He even gives them a dip of his head and a warm smile at the limit of insolently. Returning his attention on the brown haired young man, he tilts his head. "I can help you with those mugs if you want? So…if I believe you, I just risked my life then?"

Enter Kytaer, carrying a box. Most of his focus is actually on the box, and not his surroundings, though his hunting for a table does at least require him to look up. It's the looking up part that sends him in the direction of Eryzan and Eresai. "What'd I miss that someone else got bandaged fingers?" In the kitchens, even. The kitchens are trying to strip male candidates of fingers, though Tae's have also mostly healed up (his left middle finger does bear a slight scar). "And I hate to ask, but - on what?" Life risking.

Sabrael walks into the inner caverns looking a little shell shocked and completely confused. One side of her long hair is matted down with some kind of oil, and her clothing bearing spots of the same kind of liquid. She's making her slow way towards the candidate quarters like she cannot quite believe the predicament she has found herself in. Her only hope right now? That no one she actually knows is in the room. Talk about SHAME. Except, she looks up and realizes that right on her way is a trio of candidates. She physically winces and shrinks, her normal tactic of hiding under her hair rendered less effective by the slick oil within it. Act natural? Maybe? As she draws closer she attempts a quiet, "Hey…"

"We could laud you hero of the day," Eresai's wry tone confirms that Eryzan's chores in the kitchen could be construed as life-threatening. His nod and smile to Tae in greeting as he approaches is friendly, if still within his usual mild-mannered range of expressions. "You too?" He lets his voice drop, "I suggested maybe Feyruth had made a snack of his, but.." He gestures, inviting the bandaged one to explain his own predicament. When Sabrael approaches, he stares openly and only after a moment has manners enough to avert his gaze from her expression. "Hi," it's subdued, but polite enough. Maybe he's trying to give her the window to just keep moving along if that's what she really wants. Or maybe he's just certain Tae will ask for him, what happened.

Eryzan snorts at the lauding thing, waving a mummy like hand in the air. "Nah. It won't be necessary. A statue on the other hand…" He trails off giving Eresai a wink. "Besides, Kytaer also survived it seems. And by the look of his injuries, it was long before I did. He should be the one glorified. Man, it looks like kitchen chores are even more dangerous than a hungry gold dragon." Chuckling again, he turns his head to meet Sabrael's gaze. "Hey Sab…" his voice dies a bit again as he ponders a moment. "You look different….you look….sticky?" Is this the clumsiest candidate class in the history of Pern?

There is absolutely nothing for Eresai to worry about, here - if anyone can be counted on to ask the blunt, rude question? It's Kytaer, even if he isn't normally filling in as speaker for everyone. This is the area where everyone can rely on him, and he won't even realize he's being blunt or rude. "That looks awful," he grumbles politely in Sabrael's direction. "What did it? And - no, an electrical panel zapped my hand, I've been avoiding hungry gold dragons." He has actually been in Janja's weyr, though.

Sabrael's footsteps slow then stop, bright red burning on her cheeks of embarrassment. She barely has to look an obscene amount of upwards to meet the staring of the others. "They… didn't see me before tossing out the cooled cooking oil…" Her gaze remains upwards for only so long before she's looking downwards again, hands fiddling with the edge of her shirt. A frown, as she catches Kytaer's last, "They… gold dragons eat people?"

"I was only an apprentice," senior, but who's paying attention to that when Eresai sounds so dubious. "I could try my hand at a statue, but you'd probably end up looking like a deformed half-wherry." This is his level of artistry when it comes to figures. "Yeah?" is the woodcrafter's one word inquiry of Kytaer after his own injury, before a more serious and almost believable sounding, "Yeah," to Sabrael. "If.. they smell like food.." He chances a glance toward Kytaer as if to check, 'Too far?' given poor Sabrael's current predicament…

Janja has arrived.

"Deformed half-wherry…" Eryzan echoes Eresai's words on his skills. "That's what my sister called me. How did you know?" Incapable of taking things seriously, he's chuckling again, giving the boys a knowing look before staring at Sabrael again. "It's what happen when walking under the radar, Sab. Maybe you should wear a bell of something? And now, I highly suggest you avoiding the bowl for now. At least until the smell disappear." He's clearly teasing here and not in a subtle way. Poor Sabrael indeed.

"… at least it was the cooled cooking oil." Kytaer wouldn't know if a comment has gone too far, because he's not too good at regulating what comes out of his mouth, either - the look he gives Eresai is the sort of look that might go with a quick snigger-laugh if he hadn't managed to stop that. Which, at least, he did, so it's just the eyebrows. "Because otherwise you'd probably be dead. Feyruth hasn't eaten me yet and I've been by a couple of times," he adds helpfully, shrugging. "Stay pretty shardin' far back, though, so - don't push anybody's luck much? 'least she's not the one on the Sands. Zuhth isn't as scary." He looks from all the people to the box in his hand, and as if reminded by the discussion of golds eating people, actually sits at the nearest available spot to start taking stuff out of the box, all the while still attempting to remain engaged with the conversation. It's a box of parts. For what is unclear.

See that look on Sabrael's face? It's one that shows that for the second she's believing every single word they are saying. "She… I… but I thought…" Her eyes have gotten very wide, and she sinks down onto a seat looking just the picture of despair. It makes her look even smaller than normal.

There's a little shrug to answer Eryzan and Eresai's lips are pressed in a restrained smile, appreciating the humor. Well, if Kytaer thinks it's fine that he's commented on poor Sabrael's half-wet-with-cooking-oil hair thus far, and no one else in this knot of candidates is objecting, it might also be fine that he adds, "Maybe it's just Feyruth that eats people." That can't possibly get him into any trouble. He slides into a chair next to Kytaer, watching the items being unpacked with interest. It must be break time since he was obviously on some sort of chore duty here judging from the smock over his work clothes. He notably doesn't meet Sabrael's eyes now that he's made his claims. He might just feel a little guilty.

Janja saunters down the corridor with all the attentiveness of a blind wherry. But even she can't miss the mention of her lifemate so the candidates rapidly come into notice for the weaver-rider with a beaming smile. Clearly she heard the name, but not what was said. "Oh hello all of you! Talking about my beautiful Feyruth? Isn't she just perfect? So pretty and so very forceful." Her smile falters a bit, thinking of said gold and she qualifies that. "Er, some seem to think a little too forceful." But the last is waved away with a little flit of her hand. "So why are you all standing around here looking guilty hm?"

Eryzan slowly shakes his head. More from his own silliness rather than anything else. Having to return the now empty tray to the kitchen he starts to walk away, passing by the table. "Thanks for the advice Kytaer. I'm sure we will all follow it to he letter, right Sab?" He just can't help teasing the short girl. To Eresai he nods. "Okay, time for me to brave the axe-wielding cooks again." With that he waves but does stop near Sabrael, leaning to softly say. "Guts over fears…" It's almost a whisper and here he's on his way again. He doesn't look /that/ guilty but Janja's appearance makes him wince slightly. "Ma'am…" he politely calls before continuing his way. One candidate escaped at least!

Eryzan has left.

"I'm sitting!" Kytaer chirps at Janja's inquiry, because of course that makes all the difference. One of them is now sitting and going through pieces of what looks like something that is in future going to be either a motor or - a different kind of motor, but one that could power something like a boat in water rather than anything on land. Hard to tell yet. The fact that he's sitting also completely removes all suspicion from his behavior, of course.
Sabrael has reconnected.

Sabrael looks rather pathetic at the moment as half of her hair is slicked down with some kind of cooking oil; he clothing showing droplets from the same dunking. Eryzan ' s whisper into her ear gets a slightly watery smile. "Hello ma….." Sabrael's voice trails off as she actually LOOKs at Janja. Pregnant NOT EATEN Janja. Slowly she turns her whole body to stare at the other tow candidates. "I /believed/ you!" It's the loudest phrase she has uttered since coming to the weyr.

It's holder manners that brings Eresai out of his chair as Janja approaches. It's good manners to rise when a lady enters the room, even if he's ducking his head so as to not need to look at the lifemate of the dragon in question. He doesn't seem to have an answer about what he's feeling guilty about at all, but almost certainly he looks the most guilty of the three remaining candidates. "Ma'am," is what he does offer while still looking at the floor. Sabrael's outburst makes him wince and dip his head all the lower, sliding one foot slightly to rock his weight onto it, conveniently putting him partially behind Kytaer's chair.
.
With a nod for Tae and his 'sitting', Janja helps herself to a seat as well. "Sabrael, dear, you look an aweful mess. You really should clean that up. It will just /ruin/ your clothes." This most important, to Jan anyways, statement out of the way, she smoothes out her skirt and smiles to the girl. "And what did he lie about? That you are messed up? Men will always lie about that." She frowns disapprovingly at the boys. "You really shouldn't lie, though it is nice to tell her when she looks well too." She cocks her head to the side thoughtfully, as though about to add to that, but her mouth opens and closes without a sound. "And there's Tae with another big pile of metally things."

"Me?" Kytaer actually sounds surprised; he didn't know he'd lied about anything! He looks pretty confused, too, because - he has actually lost track of what he was misleading about. "Did I do something -" His voice hitches into a very low-pitched strangled squeak almost impossible to hear as he catches up to himself. "I was just joking," stays in a low tone, grumbly and sullen and not willing to admit what the joke was in front of the dragon's rider. "Didn't think anyone believed - oh," thanks for the out, weyrwoman! "These are actually yours, ma'am. I mean, it will be."

Sabrael has all the power right now. She could totally sell the two of them out. But she doesn't. Instead they get a STARE for a moment before Sabrael decides to be the bigger person. For now. They might find something squishy in their beds later. "What are you building?"

It would follow that Eresai wouldn't notice Sabrael has the power. He's busy looking very, silently interested in Kytaer's parts. Sabrael, poor Sabrael, might as well not exist just this moment so intent is his focus on redirecting things combined with his genuine interest. "For the new air conditioning?" He inquires of the tech crafter. If there was ever a time to get Eresai in trouble for something, it would probably be now even though he probably doesn't realize that now he's just being rude to the younger girl.

"Oh, it's a - that," says Tae as Eresai correctly identifies what it is he's … not quite assembling, but inspecting and picking at more than currently converting into a single workable unit. That's the next stage. His eyes are bright, now, his expression nothing but satisfaction. The sullen and grumbly has evaporated. Now he's being asked about work. "It's a single-focus air conditioning and cooling unit, meant for a private weyr. Or it will be. It's supposed to be, the plans are done, right now this is just the bits that are going to be the power source. Gonna go somewhere where it can pull warm air in and push cold air out, see -" He twirls the little blades currently attached to a centerpiece around for demonstration. It's a hand-powered fan, now!

Despite herself, Sabrael is impressed, and even half covered in oil she wants to know more. Leaning forward she looks at the fan, a small smile getting onto her lips. "That's… really cool Tae." She looks slightly guilty for wanting to get back at them for their lie.

"Really cool," Eresai repeats Sabrael and laughs. An air conditioner. Then he's sliding into a seat next to Tae and reaching his fingers tentatively toward the parts, looking toward Tae for permission before he actually touches anything.

Janja eyes Sabrael and Eresai a little suspeciously when they show too much interest in /her/ air conditioner. "Yes it is. It goes in MY weyr." There's a decidely sullen tone to the weyrwoman's comment as well as hint of 'don't you dare.' Her mouth opens say something else when one of the stable hands comes running in looking a bit manic. "There you are! Janja, you, er, Feyruth I mean. That is." She takes a deep breath and spurts it out all in one quick sentence. "Feyruth is chasing all the herdbeasts around and not even eating and she won't listen to anyone to stop and they are going to end up run to death and everyone is afraid to try and stop her and we need you to come down and…" Janja blinks stupidly for a moment. "Oh dear. Of course. Um." Eyes wide, the weyrwoman pushes away from the table and runs as fast she ever does towards the exit without even a by your leave.

Janja has left.

Kytaer is about to speak when they're interrupted by the woman looking for Janja, and his eyebrows just … raise. They are so high up for a second there that it's as if they're actually touching his hairline. "Uh," he says, and then clears his throat and redirects, nodding at Eresai's unspoken touching request. Return of grin. "I hope it is literally such a thing," he tells Sabrael solemnly. "Right now it's a pile of well-obtained scrap. But I have built them before." So he has confidence that this isn't going to be a complete shambles. With Eresai confident to explore bits on his own, he extends the tiny fan-piece, which is just the center point and blades, Sabrael-wards.

See, that's just bad timing. Sabrael's eyes go wide as she stares at the woman who came to fetch Janja. "You didn't lie." Oh woe. Stunned slightly Sabrael reaches out and numbly takes the fan from Kytaer, looking all sorts of deflated after her temporary ownership of a spine. She holds the fan in her hands and pushes it slightly to see it spin a quarter turn. Just ignore the pathetic teenager for a moment, she's piecing her world back together.

"I told you," Eresai hisses to Kytaer. Did he? He shoots a look that's a little less guilty and maybe just a little defiant toward Sabrael, though that doesn't go so far as to look triumphant. He relents in the next moment as his fingers explore some of the odds and ends. "I don't think Feyruth actually eats people, but I don't know that I've met anyone but weyrwoman Janja who isn't nervous about her. Can you imagine ending up with a lifemate like that?" He asks of both of them; clearly, he can't.

"I was pretty sure she was going to kill me that first day I went in her weyr," Kytaer admits, watching Sabrael with the fan part before continuing to talk. Or to think, because he's distracted by the way it moves and immediately writes something down before actually remembering he's part of a conversation - "If I could imagine having a lifemate at all, which I'll give you that I can't, I … really don't think I could handle that kind of. Strong. Personality."

"I don't think I ever thought about being bonded…" Sabrael snaps out of her pit of abrupt depression. The fan settles into her lap. Hopefully Kytaer didn't give it back because it totally just became her comfort object. "The green that searched me was… pretty nice. I mean.. they can't all be mean… right?"

"Yeah," Eresai is only too willing to agree. "The whole idea is pretty crazy." His voice goes a little quieter as he confesses to the other two candidates, "Some days, I'm not sure I'd like to share my head with anyone else. Some days, I'm not sure accepting search was really the right call." He looks troubled as he thumbs over a bolt and then places it carefully back on the table's top.

"My sister's a rider." This is Kytaer's explanation for basically everything: he blames his accepting Search on that and three other key points (his mentor's encouragement, Janja's statements about craftriders, and Quillan). It is at least relevant in this case, though, because he's going somewhere with it: "Seheriyath isn't mean at all. He's a big softie. I just said yes 'cause I knew she'd skewer me if I didn't, really, one rider in a trader family's a sure fluke but two ain't gonna happen." He can build another tiny fan.

"I thought… maybe, you know… it would be good to do something different. I'd never left the hold before." Because that wasn't at all obvious in the way that Sabrael ducks and shys away from loud noises and people in enegeral. The fan is gathered up and she hugs it against her chest, almost like it is a teddy bear. Looking downwards finds that her toes are only just barely touching the floor. "But I don't really want to get eaten."

"I dunno, Tae, doesn't that sort of take the math in your favor?" Eresai gives him a dubious look. "I mean, there aren't any in my family, so." So clearly he has less of a chance. The words of his sister and her lifemate must be taken to heart though, because he doesn't seem quite so tense as he looks to Sabrael. "I saw the hatching a Half-Moon. The hatchlings didn't eat anyone there." Does that help? He's trying to be helpful now, for real.

Kytaer has, in fact, a million of those little fan things and so it's entirely possible he hasn't registered that Sabrael's still holding it. He's registered that she's holding something, but half his brain is in total work-mode and is still making doodles on his drafting paper while he talks. "There was a mauling at Ryl's hatching," and she's totally going to be the only rider out of his family! he needn't even say anything otherwise! "but it wasn't her so I really wasn't paying attention to what happened," he adds, because that is also just as helpful. "Nobody died, anyway. And I'm especially sure hatchlings don't eat people? Like, there's meat right off at the side that's less work and all."

"I guess…." Sabrael stands, still holding the little fan in her arms. It's going to take up living space at the end of Sabrael's bunk. "I should probably go get cleaned up." Her slimy hair sways beside her as a wrinkle of her lips passes by. A few steps are taken before Sabrael pauses and turns back. Slightly awkwardly, "Thanks… for not.. making fun of me." Apparently she still believes them about the genuine possibility of a dragon eating her.

Eresai must not think anything of not making fun of Sabrael because his shoulders ony rise and fall in a shrug. His fingers lift off the table-top in some half-made waving gesture before he's looking to the other teen. "I think I'd like to try not to be mauled by a hatchling when it's time. Maybe if we stand near-ish each other on the sands we can help keep our eyes open for wayward hatchlings, or something."

"Wouldn't dream of it," says Kytaer, who has still not actually entirely figured out he came off as making fun of her. Is that the same thing as friendly teasing? What do you mean everyone wasn't in on the joke? "Good luck in the baths not getting something else dumped on you," he sort of tells and sort of warns poor Sabrael, before squinting back down at his work, before squinting up over at Eresai: "Don't know if groups intimidate them or make 'em more likely to jump. You basically don't want to be in anyone's way, that's … the entirety of Rylia's advice." He gets his helpful from somewhere.

Sabrael stares at Kytaer for a long second. Her mind is now swirling around all the things that could possibly get tossed at her in the baths. But no. Just walk away Sabrael. So with a shake of her head (and a few drips of oil going places that are no longer her hair) the tiny candidate takes herself off to begin the process of getting cleaned off.

Sabrael has left.

Eresai watches after Sabrael a moment, but rather than comment on Kytaer's warning/telling exactly, he says of the other topic at hand, "I'm not proposing a group. Just, you know, you and I, near-ish each other. Not necessarily near-near, but not far-far," if he makes any sense-sense at all. He lets his fingers drum the tabletop, "I think some of the girls might need to be pushed onto the sands, really." He might be speaking of Sabrael, but there are others who might be equally charged with some measure of nervousness. "Not that I won't be nervous," because plainly if one isn't at least a little, one must be stupid.

Vivka has arrived.

Kytaer - sitting at a table and surrounded by parts of what will someday be an air conditioning unit, though he lost one fan to Sabrael - is accidentally mimicking the finger-tapping gesture on the opposite hand. His dominant hand's the one with the new burn scar courtesy candidacy, of course. "Yeah, I'd be worried about anybody who wasn't nervous. See no harm in sticking together - we wouldn't exactly block each other," as neither of them are lumbering monsters or particularly tiny. "Some of the girls also will be shoved on the sands. Hear they don't let you back out last minute." Who knows where he heard.

"Really?" Eresai's brows go up as he looks at the other teen-crafter-candidate. "I would think they wouldn't want anyone who wanted to back out, last minute or no, out on the sands. It sounds kind of dangerous to me. If you're too scared to go out there, I mean, clearly, it's not the life for you." Because dragon totally take that kind of thing into account when they go tearing into the stands to find a lifemate who didn't happen to be searched and all. His fingers continue to drum, unconsciously settling into the same rhythm Kytaer's has adopted. "I'm glad my journeywoman is handling things with weyrwoman Janja's weyr," if there are things to be handled, indeed. "I wouldn't want to be in and out of there all the time with Feyruth around and weyrwoman Janja so … oblivious to all of it." He looks uneasy. Whatever 'all of it entails, it doesn't sound good.

Guess who's just had a bath? That's right! It's Vivka. She hums her way along through the cavern, passing by the table of various foods to grab a mug of klah before she's continuing on her way. One hand brushes absently through the tangled dampness of her blonde hair, but it stops when she spies her fellow candidates and has to use it to wave at them instead. A new path is angled toward them and she's smiling all the way toward their table where she finally chirps, "Hi! Wow, what is this?"

"That is, well. What I've been told." Kytaer's not giving up who told him that. He may or may not remember. "But I think she's - the weyrwoman - probably just blinded by love. Never, ever let me get like that." Not with a dragon, not with a girl, not with anything thankyouverymuch. Except that he's already like that to some extent with his work. Vivka's curiosity gets another actual real smile, even! "It's an air conditioner," he explains proudly. It looks like a pile of junk on top of drawings, but they are drawings of the innards of an air conditioner.

"Deal. Me neith-" Eresai breaks off mid bro-pacting with Kytaer to give Vivka a goofy sort of warm smile. "Hi Vivka." Speaking of just such dangers to guard against. Eresai looks down to the parts and then to the drawing. "He's making it for weyrwoman Janja's weyr," he chimes in because he has to have something to add. "Is your foot feeling better?" He asks of the blonde with traces of genuine concern.

"Is it?" Vivka sounds dubious of Kytaer's claim, but she's not an air conditioner person, so she'll just accept his word on it. "Hi!" she beams at Eresai for a moment, then glances back at the other boy. "It looks really complicated. You must be so smart. Especially if a weyrwoman wants you to work on her things." Smart is a good thing judging by the flirty shape the smile on her face takes. Until she catches herself and takes a quick drink of her klah, nodding at Eresai's question. "Much better! All thanks to you."

"Yes," Kytaer says proudly, though at least his proud is not a big, expansive overblown sort of pride; simply a presence in the way he's sitting and the way he speaks. Much less hunched-over and muttery than his usual. "It's been something of a specialty of mine to make them little so she asked me to do it. She also asked Eresai for design help," he is not leaving a bro in the lurch looking less good, "but I think his boss decided to take that job. As for intellgence, I d'no," shrug, "most of the crafthall keeps telling me I am, anyway. Is everyone getting injured?"

If Eresai is jealous of the flattering attention Vivka is giving to Kytaer, it doesn't show on his face. He does look down to the parts, which might be telling, as Kytaer speaks more. His smile is modest when the tech crafter mentions him, begging of with a humble, "Oh, I.. my.. journeywoman. She's better at.." His hands come up a little helplessly. Eresai's greatest issue might be talking to Vivka in whole sentences more than not being the recipient of her most sparkling attention. "She had a splinter," he offers in a less fragmented way to Kytaer by way of explanation. "Woodcrafter," is probably meant to explain why he helped.

"Oh, wow!" is her response to Kytaer mentioning Eresai's involvement, but then something else clicks and she looks at the latter boy like she just realized something. "Oh! You're Eresai?" See, Vivka totally knows his name. Now that Kytaer has said it. And now that she's fawned over the display of air conditioning parts, she helps herself to a seat as she takes another sip of her klah. "I couldn't find it and he was very sweet and helped me." Vivka offers a thankful smile to the splinter expert. Not flirty, but maybe even better. Friendly is better, right? "So you still have to do this even though you're a candidate? Is it part of your chores now?" Done smiling at Eresai, back to Kytaer.

Oops, was Kytaer not supposed to expose his name? He looks briefly guilty about that - like, for a second, anyway. "I wouldn't be surprised if the woodcraft thought to teach splinter classes. That kind of thing'd be smart. We have a course on electrical burns, it just doesn't ever seem to actually deter them …" He's not returning any smiles, at first. Because he wasn't talking about work. Now that he's being asked about work again: return of smile. "It's most of what I do, actually? The weyrwomen seemed a lot more concerned about my craft work, though all I've been really doing has been fixing old broken wiring and putting in new ones in high-usage areas, which … is a chore."

That Eresai's busy looking briefly hurt when Kytaer looks at him is probably a clue that his name isn't a secret and what's more Vivka should have known it before then. The woodcrafter doesn't answer the blonde but looks at the parts and then clears his throat, shifting up out of his seat. "You know, I've been sitting.. a long.." time, "and I should.. get back to.." cleaning up the cavern, evidently. Since that's what the young man starts doing as he steps away, hurriedly finding his way to the tray of mugs and then, with his head down, heads for the kitchen with them.

Eresai has left.

Vivka is beaming at Kytaer when Eresai excuses himself and gets up. She watches after him for a moment, looking both concerned and confused, then returns her big blue eyes to the remaining boy like he might have some idea what just happened. "He seems really nice. Are you two friends? I bet wiring is hard." The comments don't really go together and the last of them has Vivka glancing toward Kytaer's hands as she says it.

Kytaer's glance turns to sympathy, and then to a more friendly parting-smile as Eresai makes his exit. He actually bothers to put a screwdriver down to wave, which is truly a sign of friendship. Maybe someday he will be able to suss out this 'talking to girls' thing. "He's cool," Tae tells Vivka helpfully. "So yeah, I'd say so. Uh, about being friends and about wiring not being the easiest thing on the planet," he shrugs, finishes getting screw into metal piece to hold two metal pieces together, "but there's harder stuff for sure." He eyes the (actually) classy tool belt he's wearing for a moment, considering pockets, as if he might demonstrate something harder, then - doesn't.

Vivka sets her mug down on the edge of the table, well clear of anything else. Well clear according to her, anyway. And now that she has both hands free to brush through her tangles with her fingers, she does that while she watches Kytaer. "I always wanted to join a craft. Maybe Harper. Or Healer so I could help people. But Weaver would be nice, too. They can make such pretty things." She doesn't, note, mention any of the more technologically inclined crafts. It's probably for a reason. "Do you only work with air conditioners?"

"Oh, no, it's a commission - my favorite things are new inventions and, uh, clocks," Tae says, and that has him reconsidering the demonstration to pull a completed pocketwatch from his belt. It's actually a very nice pocketwatch, high quality, and it ticks in a rhythmic and elegant fashion. "You can open up the back," he extends it by the chain to her, in case she's curious about doing just that, "and actually watch the gears go. Always found 'em calming. You know one of the weyrwomen's a weaver."

With the pocket watch held out for her to look at, Vivka can't resist reaching out for it. "Oh, this is beautiful, Kytaer," she fawns shamelessly even before she can manage to open the back and peer at the gears. "You made this?" She's impressed, no doubt about that with that smile of hers. "Are they? I've never talked to any of them. Not like this. But they both seem nice." Her description of choice for just about everyone! Vivka explores the watch a little while longer before, delicately, handing it back over to Kytaer.

"Janja," Kytaer specifies carefully, "the one who commissioned the unit, actually - um." Another shrug; he's not actually used to quite that level of fawning, except from the collectors that make a big deal of his talent and then ruffle his hair, and that results in him not liking them very much. She does get a quick flash of a grin, though, for the praise. "It's my fifth, I think, that one. Kept it for myself 'cause it didn't get a higher bidder, I've made nicer ones. And bigger travesties." There's some love in his look for that particular watch, at least. "I don't know the Senior but Janja's - I like her."

"They must both be nice to become weyrwomen at all." So little does Vivka know about dragons and weyrfolk. "And maybe if I find a dragon of my own, I'll be able to earn enough money and maybe I can commission you for a watch of my own? If that's not even your best, I can't even imagine!" Vivka probably also doesn't know that much about watches and clocks, truth be told. Except how to read the time on them. Hopefully.

It's a matter of politeness and respect that Kytaer says nothing about the relative niceness of goldriders. Another tidbit he picked up from his useful, all-knowing dragonriding older sister, perhaps. "I don't actually set the prices," he confesses again, shoulders rolling backward in a longer shrug. "So I'm not totally sure how much this'd sell for. That's very end-of-apprenticeship kind of … thing, someone else sells my work, right now. Y'could ask him, though, how much a little one'd go for, and I'd be happy to. Or wait to be super wealthy'n get a big one, but I could make one tiny enough you could just wear it around your finger." Of course, if he were actually concerned with money and not just 'this is cool look at what it does,' Tae would realize that a ring watch is a thousand times more expensive than a pocketwatch.

"I hope one day I won't have to worry about that, but it won't be for awhile—" Vivka cuts herself off once the idea of tiny ring watch actually filters into her consciousness. "You can do that? Oh, that would be so amazing!" Vivka lifts up her hand to look at her fingers, already imagining having a watch right there. "That would probably be my favorite thing if I had one. I would wear it all the time and tell everyone that you made it."

Al'dru arrives, looking rather harrassed as he does so and shaking his head. "Really? Really, the expect me to find some candidate that's decided they want to wander off. Probably got eaten by tunnelsnakes." The man is in a foul temper.

"They usually have a cap," Tae explains, making a little hand gesture of a ring that opens and closes, "so it looks like jewelry at first and then a watch, it's only been done a couple of times but it can't be that hard, I just need to find a Smith … to … " The technician is already trailing off when he's looking down at his notes in displeasure and swearing at himself, but the bronzerider's entrance just has his eyebrows further quirking. "Of course someone got eaten by tunnelsnakes, this class just keeps getting hurt, it's our specialty," but at least he's counting himself as a part of a group for once? That's where it stops, though, because after saluting Al'dru he offers an apology to Vivka: "I'm happy to discuss it more later," really, that's an excited smile, "but I have to go track down a missing part before someone else uses it." Sigh.

The cheerful blonde is practically starry-eyed about all this. Kytaer may have just made a horrible mistake. "Later! Definitely!" Vivka will make sure this happens. But fortunately for him, Al'dru draws her attention and she smiles at the bronzerider despite his temper. "Hello! Are you looking for someone, sir? I think I saw… Well, there was Kytaer. And Eresai left a little bit ago. But I'm not sure where anyone else is." Or possibly even what their names are.

Al'dru arches an eyebrow. "What's he need a smith for, anyway? Can't imagine a candidate would want one of those." With that, he's turning to look at the only one left there in the room. "You, err. Viv. There. Have you seen a candidate named Charlie? Tannercraft boy?" He's tapping a toe. "If I don't find him soon. I'm going to feed him to Feyruth myself. I'll have Jan make an exception and maybe that queen would like me then." Then he pauses to look around the room. "Huh, it's cooler down here. No one you folks stay down here."

"Oh, he's going to make me a ring that's a watch," says Vivka like it's the most absolutely amazing thing she's ever heard of. "But I don't know what the smith is for. The ring part, maybe? I've never had a ring of my own. It's so exciting!" Eventually she'll get to answering about the candidate, but she can only shake her head uncertainly. "I don't think so. Why are you looking for him? I'm not sure how you'll feed him to anything if you can't find him, anyway." Now is when Vivka has a logical moment, yes.

"When I catch up with him. He's for Feyruth. Because he's an idiot and missed his check in with the candidate coordinator who then tasked me to find him." Al rocks back on his heels and nods. "That will do for punishment I think. Whatever she dreams up will be worse than anything I could ever do. I do have commend Jan for that. She might not be, but her dragon is very conscious of place and how a weyr should be run." The idea of smith is dismissed. "Well, he'll be either working on that or a dragon here in a few sevendays. Anyhow. When you go back to the barracks let the little tunnelsnake know I'm looking for him. I'm going to check over at the lake."

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