Taking Risks Jun 18, 2012 5:57:47 GMT -8
Post by darkwanderer on Jun 18, 2012 5:57:47 GMT -8
Miros Vold liked the beach. It was a relaxed, warm and pleasant place close to the Rainbow Mist Weyr where any downcast Candidate could sit for a while and just listen to the slack tide washing by. Miros was sixteen turns old and had tasted the bitter defeat of being left standing at a Hatching. Despite this, he retained his hope that the right Dragonet was waiting to Impress to him. He yawned and stretched his legs. He was tall for his age, but skinny due to a sudden growth spurt that had seemingly taken his body by surprise. His sandy blonde hair was messy and heavily laden with beach sand by now. Several Weyrlings astride their magnificent Dragons had flown low over the beach, oblivious to his pressence and had kicked up quite the sand storm. Miros didn't mind, he enjoyed seeing the many striking hues of Dragon hide whoosh past his eyes. However enjoyable his time on the beach was, he unfortunately had chores to attend to. hauling himself up and brushing off all the sand, he climbed back up the dune he had slid down earlier and started back towards the Weyr. Miros saw people he was familiar with and waved amiably, but hurried on past under the guise of being busy. He was painfully shy and self conscious of himself and constantly worried about saying the wrong thing to the wrong person. Arriving at the Candidate Barracks entrance some minutes later, Miros heaved a sigh of relief. All he had to do was change his clothes and head to the kitchens for his daily dose of hard labour. After that he'd be free to spend some time with his father who was returning later that evening from a flight down to Cliff-Side Sea Hold. He wanted to hear stories about the Hold and he also wanted to practice his Dragon care knowledge by helping his father to oil and scrub green Recenth's hide. His father's Dragon was a practical and patient beast and he indulged young Miros his "practice" as he was uncommonly fond of the boy. Miros found his quarters right where he'd left them and quickly changed into looser clothing, better suited for scrubbing pots and washing floors. Now equipped for some hard work, he left the barracks, heading into the Inner Weyr where the kitchens were located. On the way he had to pass through the Weyr Bowl, which was as always thronged with people. It had been Miros's intention to hurry on through, but this day his feet wanted him to dawdle. Perhaps his feet knew he had someone important to meet and if he had rushed, he would not have collided with someone coming the other way.