Granddaughter(Open)

[Simile]

{Midday, Outside of the Weyr}

The wind whipped around her body, wrapped snugly in her heaviest coat, her hands swathed and wrapped in gloves, thick pants which stuck her her as she felt like she was sweating - despite how bitterly cold she felt in her bones. Her eyes stared out of the goggles meant to protect them from the ever present glare of the light off of the snow beneath her feet as she walked back towards the Weyr, sled dog in tow as she made the trek with the required supplies back to the Weyr. she hated it when she got this particular punishment walking out here with a couple of dogs - not even a sled - was just cruel she thought and they always seemed to pick on her. And she knew perfectly well why. R'vin had been a rather important and devious figure in the past of the Weyr and of Pern. The second and last Weyrleader of Dark Mists Weyr. But what stories should she believe about him? She didn't know. All she knew was that even now she felt hte sting of the people's hatred for her grandfather who was fifty turns now dead and gone. The exact how of the way he died would always remain a mystery... But she was certain he was dead. Her grandmother had already passed on - R'vin's... something. He had, apparently, had a weyrmate before... but had no problems with taking another outside of his Weyr.

She wondered what life would be like had he reamined a king rider at Fort Weyr. Perhaps she wouldn't have been born. Much the better in some ways. Who would desireto be born into the cruel prejudice that she had been... Who would desire to be looked on with disdain by those who still remembered or who had learned the word hate from their own parents and grandparents. Who would want to see a face that was similar to the man's own amongst them. Her father... he, as her grandmother said, was the spitting image of his father. And a kingrider just like him. He was used to hard work and manual labor as well. She supposed it was a reality. She just found it all to be rather unfair.

She looked back down at one of the dogs which walked beside her. She was almost positive that the candidate master was hoping ot get rid ofher before the next hatching so they wouldn't have a chance for another one of R'vin's descendants to Impress. AFter all, they didn't want her to, did they? that was what she believed. What had been whispering in the back ofher midn ever since she was old enough to stand. They wanted her and all those they didnt' feel were worthy enough gone. Were their fearless leaders turning blind eyes to the plights of those below them or was there somethign more going on? Of course she knew of the missing rider and his Silverlight - a tragic story really. They had mounted rescue attempts already... and of coure there was that new boy with a male Silverlight - certain to be a king and certain to either be entitled or frowned upon - nothing in between. tHere was nothing more or less for him either as far as she could see.

The misfits, the unwanted, the nobodies. That was who she felt she fit in with and that was who she would be the most liekly to protect should the time when such a thing was needed.

Raevin walked into the tunnels leading into the heart of the Weyr, the dogs and their packs close beside her as she entered and headed for the kennels where she was nearly positive someoen woudl be waiting to take the goods from her... and where she was sure she wouldbe burdened with her next assignment as per, what she felt, was usual.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

T’ruk had scraped a few extra moments from his studies as a Weyrling — he was now in his second to last month of Junior Weyrlinghood, before being promoted to a Senior Weyrling — to go and hang out in the kennels. That might seem an odd destination of choice for a, to the best guess of age, 14 Turn old boy, but T’ruk still preferred the company of animals to that of people, though he had made a great deal of progress socially from the easily, and perpetually, frightened boy who had arrived at the Weyr over a Turn previously. Azeriuth used to enjoy coming as well, but now, at nearly 33 feet from point of shoulder to base of tail, the weyrling was far too large to comfortably enter the kennels. In fact, T’ruk’s presence in the kennels, accompanied, as always, by his black sled canine and two flitts, one Aurora and one Crimson, was a little unusual, taken with his ongoing tendency to dislike being parted from Azeriuth.

Upon entering the kennel, the boy glanced around, his manner furtive not from forbiddance of his current actions, but rather from the habit of his life before coming to the Weyr. The lure of the company of the canines was too much to resist at that moment however, particularly as Azeriuth was asleep, and T’ruk knew that the roughly ten month old Silverlight weyrling needed to sleep to make up for all the energy expended growing and training, so to avoid interrupting the dragon, the boy slipped down to hang out with the canines. The last thing he’d expected, especially in the middle of the day, was for a woman, who looked to be about Ayasha’s age, only with darker skin and hair and eyes, to come in, trailed by two sled canines that were bearing packs on their backs.

It was an odd sight. There were plenty of perfectly good sleds lying around, so why not use one of them? Several were light enough to have allowed two dogs to pull both the young woman and the supplies, and the trip would have been faster too.

T’ruk hesitated. Rallin always insisted on manners and politeness, and by that book T’ruk needed to go over and offer to help get the packs off the canines and emptied and the contents sorted. However, this woman was older than him, and might well take offense at the idea that a “little boy” thought he could do her job better than she could. He glanced over her, as though trying to ascertain from what she looked like whether she would take offense or not, then stepped forward.

“Do you nee…” His voice trailed off. That wasn’t the right way to start it. “Do you want any help unloading the packs?” It came out a little rushed, and he still stood with his shoulders slightly hunched, but, being as he wasn’t even aware of the fact that his posture might be considered odd, he was rather proud of himself. He had, of his own initiative, spoken to a stranger and offered assistance, Rallin would love it!