The blue snorted and turned his head away from the firey-tempered youngling. He didn't particularly like Felyar, but he was a strong potential candidate. Until you call me by my name, firehead, I'll not say anything to you. Ancith said to himself. Of course, R'lan heard, and was hard pressed not to laugh during his meeting with the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman.
Felyar stormed across the weyrbowl, and into the living caverns. One of the resident weavers was setting up her loom off to one side. "Felyar!" she called, "will you fetch me that spool of thread? It rolled off..."
What does Tasi think I am? Her canine? Felyar thought to himself, even his mental tone snapping with anger.
"Please, Felyar?" she asked, pleadingly. Sighing explosively, he retrieved the large spool of warp thread, and brought it to her loom. "Thank you!" she said, smiling.
"It was nothing." Felyar said, then stormed off towards the kitchen.
To his dismay, he'd walked in just as Ikara began looking for 'volunteers' to grind klah bark. Felyar sat down at the table, and glared at the mortar and pestle before he poured a small amount of the stripped park into the bowl and began to grind. By the time he'd ground sufficient klah to appease Ikara, his agression was worn down, but he was still angry.
At 19 turns, Felyar was uncrafted. He'd been born and raised in the Weyr, and had never had any training at all - there was nothing that piqued his interest. However the 5'10" tall athletic lad was helpful, and as much as he disliked some things and grumbled about doing the task -- like grinding klah, bagging firestone, or digging garden plots, he was very useful. J'rin, R'lan, and D'run had all agreed early on that Felyar would be would be a very good dragonrider - if a dragon would choose the fiesty lad.
Weyrlingmaster D'lrik found Felyar shortly after he'd left the kitchen. "Felyar!" he shouted from a halfway across the bowl. "Finish that drink, and get over here!"
Felyar scowled, drank the hot klah as fast as he could, and complied. "You called, D'lrik?" the perpetually angry boy half growled.
"Yep. Hatching grounds need cleaning -- eggshells haven't been picked up yet." D'lrik said, handing him a rake. "You know what to do."
Felyar snatched the rake, and stomped into the sands. It was much colder in there today than it had een when Litayth's clutch hatched a sevenday prior. Felyar recalled each hatchlings entrance as he picked up large bits of their discarded shells, and moved them into a bushel basket near the door. They'd have to be dumped in the midden later, when Litayth and Zerroith weren't looking. One never knew when a dragon would get nostalgic.
Felyar grumbled to himself as he counted paces from the doorway to the far side of the grounds. Why did he have to clean the Hatching Grounds -- and by himself? Returning to the middle of the cavern, Felyar set the rake down, and began to smooth out the sand, working his way out from the center into a spiral, leaving the soft red sand neatly groomed for whoever clutched next. If it was too far off, the sands would be raked again after her flight. Broody females were always particular about the sands.
It's about time someone cleaned this up. a silken voice said in Felyar's mind. Usually there are two rakers... were you bad Felyar?
The boy had almost dropped the rake after the first statement, and could only stare as the Senior Queen sat down in the yet ungroomed sand. "I... no worse than usual, Queen Litayth." Felyar said, trying not to snap at her.
I see. the queen replied, dipping her silvering head. Why haven't you stood, Felyar? the gigantic dragon inquired.
"They can't trick me, Litayth. I'm not worthy to be a candidate. I'm not even crafted, for crying out loud! No one can fool me!" Felyar said, his voice al low growl, then resumed raking, with furrowed brows.
Oh give it up, Felyar. You've fooled yourself! Litayth said, rising.
"WHAT?!" the green-eyed redhead exploded.
You'd be a great rider if you'd just get your firey headed self onto the sands. Litayth said as she left.
"I AM on the sands!" Felyar yelled.
Wrong sands. Appologize to Ancith - maybe he'll take you where there are some eggs.
"Ancith?!" Felyar yelled, "Maybe I ought to just stay here!"
A few minutes later, Felyar was interrupted by D'lrik. "Litayth told you to stop that, didn't she?"
Felyar grimaced.
"Well?"
"Yes, sir. She did." Felyar admitted, still none to happy.
"Well do it. Do you want her and Tiyanni mad at you?"
"No..." Felyar said, cowed, as he began moving towards the exit. D'lrik took the rake, and shooed him away.
Ancith was napping on the lakeshore, waiting for R'lan to come help scrub him. Felyar walked up, stopping short. "Ancith?" he called somewhat bitterly, and the blue opened one eye. Seeing it was Felyar, he closed it again.
What? Ancith replied monotonously, his tone colored with annoyance.
"I..." Felyar began. feel really stupid appologizing to a dragon he thought. "I'm sorry I called you firebreath, and I'm sorry I disturbed your nap." he stopped to breathe. Being pleasant was hard work, it was easier for him to be angry and standoffish. "Litayth said I..." he continued, but Ancith cut him off, staring at him with both eye open wide, and whirling brightly.
You mean the Weyrwoman said Litayth said... whatever...
"No. Litayth, herself, told me I'd better Stand, and that I should ask you to take me somewhere..." Felyar felt the anger growing again. This stinking blue was calling him a liar?
Ok, boy. I'll take you to see some eggs at the Healing Den once R'lan comes. Ancith said, shifting to get a bit more comfortable.
Maybe you ought to sit down and nap yourself, boy. It may be a while
"Will you stop calling me 'boy' if I do? My name is Felyar!" he snapped ferociously.
Not for long. Ancith retorted.
Smugly, Felyar sat down and leaned up against the blue. "Y'know Ancith, you're not as bony as you look."
Ancith snorted.
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