After-Hatching / Lower Caverns / Evening

[Jay Kitten]

It was a routine that never got boring. Why it wasn't something that had come across the table and backfired yet, the young man hadn't a clue, but his uncle never bothered him about it and nobody ever seemed to notice he existed in any case, so here he sat, at the usual time, after finishing with a meal...

In the Lower Caverns, in the back of the seating area for most Weyr meals, there was a single, old table. It had been there longer than any of the current inhabitants, surely, for two generations or so must have lived and died eating on this table. Nobody ever sat here, except for him.

Termites had begun to devour the tabletop, and because of that it was warped and unstable. He ran a finger slowly over the top of it, his head down and sideways on the table as he examined the wood.

Every day he did this. And every day the termites ate more and more of this relic of history, yet nobody did anything to stop them. Not even him. But what did he care about this Weyr's history? If it was up to him, he wouldn't have even bothered. He didn't attend the Hatching. He didn't care. It wasn't his business to give his attention to anybody who walked around, they never even bothered with him, so why should he? Swimming alone in the Weyr lake, sitting alone under the trees skirting the Bowl, drawing a picture at a table in the Lower Caverns... No matter what he did, people didn't talk to him. Maybe it was because they knew? But he knew, more than anybody else, that words meant nothing. Still, it was nice to hear something other than the sounds of insects chewing on wood on occasion.

There were days where he sat and listened to the Harpers who bussed in and out all the time, or the particularly gifted Tigerrider he saw perched on ledges and heard the tune he played on a mandolin or violin on occasion, their music was beautiful but their voices even more so. He had to wonder if they took that kind of things for granted? His finger traced the grain of the wood, and at the edge, just the pressure from that simple movement broke the corner of the table straight off. It fell to the floor and made a small circle in the dust.

His grey eyes blinked.

He sat up, and then stood, looking around. Nobody seemed to notice him. And so all at once, he took a fist, and smashed it into the edge of the table. It splintered, shattering and sending shards of the weakened wood flying into the ground below, causing more craters to spread across the dusty floor.

He watched the termites wiggle their way through the dirt.

This is life... he whispered for only himself to hear.

I am this table's burning wish to be treated right.

[Simile]

It was unusual for K'nan to spend much time in the lower caverns. But today he found himself there anyways. It was not that he had anything against the lower caverns. In fact, they were just fine. But he generally only ventured down here when the need be. Much like how he treated everything - speaking only when things were important. It was a trait that some found to be disconcerting at times and others found it to be something of importance.

K'nan sighed and rand a hand through his hair as he walked amongst the caverns and tunnels that made up the caverns beneath the Weyr. Embraeth had been a bit... dejected since losing and had taken to moping about the Weyr, something that, K'nan had to admit, he did not appreciate, but he let it be. His dragon's short memory would come to the rescue here shortly. It was all a matter of time.

There was a noise not far off and K'nan turned, walking towards it. The old table... The poor thing, left in disuse for so long... There was a young man sitting there. He had not met him yet, or at least he didn't think so.

He walked over, looking down at the termites for a moment. "Such things should be so forgotten," he said, looking down then up, as if examining the table before turning his attention to the young man who sat there. He took a seat, not saying much for a moment. "I am K'nan. I don't think I have seen you here before." That was all before he fell silent again. Words. They were useless unless you had something of value to say. Quiet. That was much more meaningful at times. Of course, however, there was always music. A thing which had a meaning of an entirely different nature. Yeah...

Worthless words, however, were just that, worthless. Let things of importance be said and the worthless chatter pass away.

[Jay Kitten]

Lylore had been so focused on the insects crawling about at his feet that the man's approach went completely unnoticed, until suddenly he spoke. Lylore jumped, he had forgotten for a moment that other people could still talk. His body slowly turned, and he smoothed out his tunic, looking over who had just assaulted his ears. A Rider? What was he doing here right now, wasn't everyone celebrating for the Hatching still? It didn't occur to him that any Riders might want to ditch the party as well, but that wasn't any of his business anyway. Termites and tables were...

He sat down, looking at the table. He didn't know what to do, really, there was nothing he could do. Luckily for him, the man hadn't asked a question. But he avoided eye contact, only occasionally looking over at him, his arms crossed, still watching the occasional termite slip from the cracks in the top of the old wood. I'm Lylore, he thought to himself, and he turned to face the Rider a bit more. He nodded gently, the only real greeting he could give aside from a handshake.

He took note that he wasn't as talkative as other people he had interacted with. In fact, the biggest reason he was ever approached is because people wanted to try talking to him, some even thought he was just ignoring them. What was he supposed to do? Tell them he couldn't speak? As if.

He ran his fingers over the table again, his mind had already run away from the Rider across the table from him. He had a lot on the thing, so that wasn't surprising. After a few seconds he realized how rude he must seem and went back to paying attention again to K'nan as he introduced himself. After a moment of silence, he gave him a look of hopelessness. He couldn't say anything, as dreadfully bad as he wanted to, and there wasn't an action to take aside from the nod he had already offered.

Would he be the one to get it, finally? He could only hope. He might realize that he couldn't speak. He doubted his uncle ever spoke about his problem at random, after all... Nobody really knew.

[Simile]

He took in the young man's expression. Hmm... He looked hopeless. He had nodded. It was not that he was ignoring him. It was not that he didn't want to speak. There was something... else. And that something else had to be that he either could not speak... or else could not hear. He would assume it was the former. After all... It would be easier to assume as much... Well... might as well make some progress and really find out, he supposed.

"I am supposing that you are not capable of speaking?" he asked gently, giving the young man a sympathetic expression.

He didn't know what more to say. Even if he did speak, he would not be able to get much of a response. He supposed, if the young man could write, then he could at least get a name... unless he tried t guess. He was sure he should know it. After all, a part of his his job had seemed to become remember the name of every person in the Weyr. He was casting around for it in his memory and coming up with nothing... until a name, never used by for once and - not from his own lips- but used in his presence. He wasn't sure. It seemed a near impossibility that this could be the same nephew he had heard about. Not that he had talked to hte man more than what, once?

"Lylore," he said, frowning slightly, certain eh was wrong. "I'm just guessing..."

Hello, young one. I am Embraeth. Tell me what you would tell mine... The boy was not a HAD, but Embraeth was choosing to converse with him this way in attempt to facilitate some kind of response. Not that mine will speak much.

The dragon was being much chattier than rider or dragon typically were at this point. Perhaps because Embraeth was in a foul mood, soemthing that his rider could feel and doubtlessly, the poor boy assaulted by his mind-voice could also feel.

[Jay Kitten]

Lylore waited in his quiet patience for the man to do something, he looked contemplative. He couldn't help but feel like this was the moment of judgement, where most people simply left and stopped talking to him. But that moment didn't come, and instead, the man came up with the correct answer. His arms slid under the table as he leaned forward, suddenly more interested in this fellow.

He nodded, slowly at first, then more vigorously. Yes, that's it. I cannot speak. He gave a soft smile, this man impressed him already. He was a Rider... Lylore listened often, he had heard the names of those defeated in the recent Flight over his meal. This man was one of them. But when the man spoke his name, he blinked. Was he a psychic?

If you be a wizard, then end my silence, he thought, and gave another helpless nod. Two right answers, this one was good at answering his own questions. That was good, as answers were something he rarely could give. Suddenly, a voice rang through his head, and he jumped, gripping his ears and ducking under the table. He poked his head out after a moment, wondering what had just happened. Embraeth...? Wait, that was a dragon's name. This was strange, a dragon was speaking to him? He tried to communicate, but all Embraeth would get were pictures, as it seemed he didn't "speak" in his mind either, rather, he thought by picture and sound, which likely would assault the dragon's senses, giving him a glimpse of the feeling of frustration and a picture of a frustrated Lylore in his own mind. But buried in all of that, was the words he wished so say, which floated soon to the surface.

"Who are these two, and why does this man know me? Embraeth... You lost the Flight. And your rider... K'nan."

He knew his name too.

He perked up visibly, and slid back into his seat, pulling himself up from under the table and then glancing at K'nan. He searched for his gaze, and leaned toward him, arching his brow knowingly. He hoped he got it. He knew who he was. You are K'nan, and I am Lylore. We know names. He had to say, this was a lot more than he was used to. His day was starting to get interesting...

But still, Lylore had the overwhelming feeling to run and hide again. He didn't feel comfortable anymore, and he shifted. He was too used to being alone, and now he felt like the silence was really thick for somebody who could speak. He heard the girls, the male Riders, all chatting and gloating. This one didn't... Speak as much. He came off as stoic to him, but... It was different. Communication took longer, but at the same time, they were both intelligent and seemed capable of picking up on smaller things. He looked to the table again, running his fingers over the wood yet again, contemplating the table once more. He seemed to do this often... And he caught himself doing it thrice, pulling his hands both into his lap and looking down at them. His thumbs fidgeted. Lylore's discomfort was obvious at this point. He felt awkward, like he had to prove something but had no means to do it. It was indescribable, really...

S... Just say something. I'm itching. He wondered if a voice had the power to soothe anxiety. It was worth a try, another weird experiment he would start to run, now. But he couldn't ask him to speak, and K'nan seemed to choose his words wisely. This type of person was rare. It was like waiting for an explosion to start, normally he felt assaulted by words. But with K'nan, he was feeling more like he wanted him to speak, because his voice seemed more confident than any Lylore knew he could muster if he were able. This man was strange... His day was different now indeed.

Introduce yourself. Confirm it, tell me I'm right. You're K'nan... That would satisfy this itch. He had to know who this interesting individual was... His curiosity was piqued beyond question. He started to see a blurry figure in his head and waved a hand in mid-air to clear it. He must look silly, and so he stopped himself.

[Simile]

Embraeth snorted and what might have felt very painful as the emotion stabbed through the dragons head and doubtlessly into the unbonded one he spoke to... Well... it had to be less than pleasant. Embraeth dispelled what was decidedly a bad taste in his mouth and turned his attention to Lylore. Pictures, feelings. They were just as pungent and overwhelming as a dragon's emotions and he sent soothing feelings shortly therein, but it was worth... listening. That was right. Listening. Well.. Sorta, if you could call sorting through all these pictures and sounds and such... listening.

Well... the dragon rumbled gently. Mine is no wizard... just good at looking at things that others miss. The dragon tried to ignore that comment. He was still sore over that. K'nan winced slightly.

Embraeth communicated to K'nan who remained silent for what seemed like a painstaking minute as he seemed to think and, finally, after that painstaking moment he smiled and spoke, reaching for the hand that moved in front of Lylore and grabbing it gently in one of his own calloused hands. "Yes. I'm K'nan and my dragon is Embraeth." His voice was smooth, but masculine, almost a rough edge hidden well behind the liquid quality of his words. "It is nice to meet you, Lylore."

Embraeth rumbled. Well met, young man. the dragon intoned on his own part before settling himself again in his spot above the Weyr, his eyes on the Sr. Queen, a burgeoning irritation and anger in his chest. He hissed and lashed his tail. What was it taht that other bronze had had that he hadn't! He should have shredded his wingsails when eh ahd the chance. Hes. He still might try. It was only worth it after all.

[Jay Kitten]

Lylore rubbed his temples for a moment, as disoriented as he was by having a dragon intrude on his mind like that. His mind was his inner sanctum, and although he was not unwilling, it would have been better to get a warning before that had happened. Non-Riders weren't used to such things as-is, and he was a particularly special case as it were.

But his agitation came to rest as his frantic movement was halted by a firm hand, and he soon found his heart starting to race as his anxiety calmed. He pulled his hand back, and rubbed it, looking a bit untrusting. It had worked, sure, but he didn't like to be touched. That much was obvious. At least... Not yet. If this man became a friend, then it wouldn't bother him... But his better judgement was still breaking it's normal barriers to "talk" to this guy.

He spoke gently, his words carefully placed. He was whom Lylore had assumed him to be. K'nan... The name was new, but nice. A-A pleasure as well, he thought, knowing that his eyes might convey what he meant where his words failed. He had to say his day was looking up.

You are a bronzerider... What would you be doing talking to some low weyrfolk? He couldn't quite understand why he had approached. His eyes went back to the wood on the floor. Perhaps he was a termite? He had to dig. Into the Weyr itself, into it's people? Maybe not. He had a feeling K'nan wasn't a vegetarian.

He placed his fist over his mouth like he was clearing his throat, and looked away. Fingers ran over the wood again. He put them back in his lap. They needed to stop that. Nervous habit.

His mind moved now to the texture K'nan's hand had held, while his eyes trailed over it. Rough. Calloused. He bore the fruit of hard labor, or perhaps too many Turns in riding straps. Leather did that to a person's skin. He had a feeling the flesh could tell many stories, should it be capable of talking. However, K'nan of course, could. He would have to ask some time. But it was strange still, as though if he were to reach out and touch this man he would vanish and be just a figment of his imagination. Wild as it was. Yet, a part of him knew that he really did exist, right there, and he had managed to get further in two minutes than most people in ten. He liked him. A very interesting man indeed. K'nan... His name was going to be stuck on his mind for awhile, just like anything else he found interesting.

But then his mind turned elsewhere, when he could somehow feel Embraeth's emotions. He understood them quickly, and pushed his own feeling at the dragon. He didn't think it was a good idea that he be so upset, he mentioned to the bronze that there were more Golds out there than just this one. After all, he had seen them. It had to be true.

He shifted again in his seat. He wasn't as fidgety anymore. But he was still testing the water with these two. He watched a particularly hungry termite gobble down part of the wood, burrowing into it.

[Simile]

Embraeth curled back up, still sulking. But then again, what was done was done. He couldn't wait to be finished with this. He gave another sharp, punctuating hiss.

K'nan frowned, distracted for a moment by his dragon's irritating mood - sulking, irritable, wanting to tear into a something. An anything. Another dragon. It was a dangerous feeling. K'nan felt the edge of aggression building in him, but forced it back down. It was best not to dwell. It was best to ignore. Best not to be caught up. Something that became difficult for a dragon rider at tiems...

Embraeth seemed to notice his discomfort and suddenly a pang of a sympathy and dejection blossomed in his chest and he crooned gently, sending the most comforting feeling he could muster to the boy. He did not want ot make him uncomfortable... but it could be so much easier this way....

K'nan smiled softly to him, studying his face, his expression slightly gentle and open, as if attempting to allow Lylore to read him. It was not something he was used to or would typically do. But he was willing to make himself uncomfortable in order to help him and attempt to help him be more comfortable.

K'nan released his hand without a second thought and smiled slightly, his fingers closing around the nothing of the air before setting his hand back on the table, a near miss from a termite which dove back into the wood beneath him. There was something vaguely... disturbing about the little creatures - as though they were eating away slowly at ones soul. A painful thing.

He didn't say a word at the moment. He, instead studied him, a conversation spoken by eyes and movements rather than words... for the moment.

Embraeth crooned again at the words and relayed them to K'nan who had already gotten the message and was almost vaguely annoyed even though he knew his dragon was trying to be helpful and did appreciate it.

K'nan's mouth pulled up at one corner. "You are no less important than the Weyrwoman herself, Lylore. That's why. You are not some low weyrfolk." The thought that he considered himself low... well... it was something that seemed to be a normal status quot throughout the entirety of Pern, even he as a king rider was entitled to a rank that rose above others.

K'nan watched him. He was nervous... K'nan could tell. He smiled slightly, a warmer smile than before that slowly took his features in an all out domination. It was warm and friendly. Smiles weren't things that were always seen on the rather stoic man's face.

K'nan's hands. Aah. Those things which had caused it. Combinations of hard work and years in the riding straps. Learning beast craft, working in the Weyr for so much of his life.... Yes... And, of course, the years of time in the leather straps which held him to his great beast as they rose above Pern into the skies. He wondered what Lylore would think of flying. It was an elating and uplifting feeling for most. Lylore was a young man who worked in the Weyr and lived here. He was a shadow. But... What of if he were the one to cast the shadow. Already he was starting to cast a shadow into the mind of the rider - a shadow that would never be forgotten. His hand remained unmoving on the table, a firm symbol of who he was. Indeed... if skin could talk. His would tell many stories... and he was certain that Lylore's could tell just as many....

Embraeth gave a huff. She is Archith and Rilora... Rilora and Mine... He huffed. It was irrelevant. He was pining for the gold. The following thoughts were not so much words but... feelings. They were feelings of his. That burned in him.

entire anger at the fact that such a newcomer could come and take Kingship in what was, to him, His Weyr. It was the Weyr he had protected, he had looked after and his had helped to take care of. His had talked to and given Rilora his thoughts, opinions, time and effort to help this Weyr - to help it run. To help her. And Archith went and chose that... that new beast! He was not worthy of the color. A noble Bronze, he thought not. He paid the queen not but flattery. Nor did his rider. overbearing flattery.

K'nan took a breath and felt the slight pang of jealousy as well, much as his dragon was feeling now.

He shifted again in his seat. He wasn't as fidgety anymore. But he was still testing the water with these two. He watched a particularly hungry termite gobble down part of the wood, burrowing into it.

[Jay Kitten]

It surprised him how much K'nan noticed, how much he seemed capable of reading Lylore's half-closed book. Part of him felt that nothing would slip by this bronzerider, but he knew better than that. Even so, K'nan was just a man, and men had flaws. But what were his? Now he was getting more curious. He spoke again.

The words he chose, Lylore felt, were simply just what K'nan thought he wanted to hear. He shook his head. Rank is dictated to those who earn it, I have done nothing. That much was true. He helped out around the Weyr, sure, when he saw someone who needed it, but... Even then he felt like a freeloader. He had no talents, no ambitions, he didn't have a hobby or a Craft. He was just... A shadow.

He gave an appreciative look at K'nan, trying to express that he was enjoying his company, even if he might have seemed hostile and disagreeable. He was slightly apologetic with his mannerisms, as well, as though it was some big crime, not being able to say anything. But he knew he was only going to get words in return for that. It was okay, he supposed. K'nan likely didn't know what it was like, wanting to scream and hearing only whispers. Nobody understood him, but he had long since come to terms with that.

Embraeth's feelings were touching his mind again. It was such a strange feeling, having this one open to him like that. He did his best to soothe him, sending him pictures of himself petting a cat, which was the closest thing he had to a picture of himself petting a dragon. He had never touched a dragon before, let alone gotten near enough to his uncle's to even allow it to see him. Dragons scared him, truthfully. And for good reason. He couldn't scream for help if one decided to maul him.

His eyes were drifting off again, and soon his elbow found the table, his chin coming to a rest. He looked terribly bored, though he wasn't, but K'nan might have taken it wrong. He didn't realize what he looked like, but he was spacing out again, now on some train of thought about dragons and termites. What made them different? Just size, or was there more? Dragons lived in caves, termites in wood, yet still they seemed so different...

[Simile]

K'nan shook his head slowly. "I wasn't talking about rank, Lylore... I was talking about your value as a person." He smiled gently, but remained quiet even now as he watched young man. HE seemed rather bored... at least for the moment. He didn't know that he was, though... He may or may not be, in fact. He was thinking seriously for the moment.

Embraeth crooned at the image sent to her. Maybe I will meet you some day, yes? Embraeth asked very gently, almost sheepishly. He liked this boy. He wanted to meet him in person soon. Very soon. His plaintive croon was a dead give away to that particular sentiment as he resettled himself on the rocks. He was an interesting person who thought deeply about things.

Embraeth rumbled softly, though he tried not to overwhelm the boy as he thought about termites and dragons as well, comparing his own color to the termites. His green-bronze was different from a termites, and yet similar.

He didn't say anything else for the moment as he just sat and was content with the quiet.

[Jay Kitten]

K'nan's words resonated with him, and soon enough, he broke into a small smile, the likes of which were seemingly rare, yet somehow beautiful. If he hadn't been before, he certainly was a friend of Lylore's now. That was quite the compliment, and did much to cheer him up. He stopped leaning on his hand, and instead leaned back, looking around at the ceiling of the cavern. He was trying to figure out in which direction Embraeth's voice was coming from. When he spoke again, he seemed to pinpoint it, and looked in his direction.

His words bothered Lylore a bit, however, as he wasn't comfortable with the idea of dragons, any more than he was with the idea of placing his head in a lion's mouth. In both cases, he couldn't call for help. But, as K'nan was his Rider, he thought that it might be a large deal safer, since he understood that Riders had some measure of control over their Bonded. The male looked back to K'nan for a moment, and his eyebrows raised, showing his curiosity. Creatures were something Lylore always found interesting, and the opportunity to get close to something he hadn't ever before, well, he couldn't turn that down easily.

And so, during K'nan's patient quiet, he asked with his eyes if they might go and see Embraeth. In fact, his eyes looked similar to a child asking for candy's, that is to say, they were almost puppydogish in effect. His mouth scrunched up as well, which ultimately gave him a pathetic and somehow adorable look.

Lylore hadn't planned on being inside all day, anyway.