What Plans the Future May Hold

Western Weyr - Candidate Dorm
Carved from a natural bubble in the volcanic stone, this small dorm room has room enough to hold around two dozen occupants comfortably. Along the walls are stationed sets of cots and clothes presses, each made up to the standards of the weyrwoman. Above, the soft white light from electric lamps cast down during waking hours.

It’s that time in every candidate’s life, where they have two options: get a used robe or make their own. As surprising as it might seem to those who know this particularly lazy candidate, Theicher has decided to make his own. He’s currently sitting on his cot, a box ‘cage’ at his side, as he attempts to sew two pieces of fabric together. Sadly he’s only succeeding in poking his thumb over and over again at the moment. There’s a clicking noise from the box and Theich pauses to peek over at his pet spiderclaw. That’s right, he’s given up and made one his pet. “Why is it those lower caverns women make this look so easy?” He tosses the robe pieces on his pillow in frustration and sends a glare at them. Hrmph!

Solarus looks up from where he's sitting on his cot trying, with squinting eyes, to attach a piece of curved metal to the broken hinge on his recently rescued glasses. "Because they've been doing it for years. Are you trying to sew?" failing at getting the new arm in place that he'd made for his glasses he moans. "Do you know anything about metal craft? If you help me fix my glasses I'll sew your robes," yes, the Weaver Apprentice IS offering.

The primary upside to being in this a second time, for Keelyra, is that she doesn't have to remake her robe. Or so she thought. Since the candidates have been given some downtime to work on their robes if they wish, she's pulling hers out of a poorly packed trunk. The wrinkled mass of cloth is shaken out and she eyeballs it. The stitching is poor, the cuts uneven, but it fit at one time. The teen strips down to her skivvies and tries to wiggle into the robe. Apparently she's shot up enough in the past Turn or so that it's doing no good. Her curves, that she didn't have last time she Stood, are the worst of it. Seams at sides strain where bust pulls and the robe keeps trying to ride up at her hips. A straight-bodied shift may have worked before, but it doesn't now. She sighs, unable to even slump her shoulders for how snug it is. "I don't wanna make another," she complains to her blue 'lizard, perched nearby. He just chirps in response.

“Sadly I’m no metal worker.” Theicher’s gaze settles upon the broken glasses with a look of sympathy scrunching his brows. “You could perhaps try to find someone in the plastic craft as well. They could dab a little at the hinge and that could work too.” Although that’s all the hunter has to suggest on that matter. As for Keelyra and her random stripping, that definitely catches Theicher’s attention. He /is/ male after all and it’s rather hard to ignore a young lady who’s changing right there in the open. Theicher clears his throat, not even trying to avert his gaze as Keelyra changes. “You could totally wear that one out there, although the new dragons might not be the only ones gawked at.” He offers, smirking at her as he shamelessly stares at her overly confined chest. Yup, he’s bad.

Solarus looks at the robes Theicher is trying to sew, and then Keelyra's robes and gets a wicked little gleam in his eyes. "You know, I could sew those for both of you," he coos and touches a singly dainty finger to his lips. "For less than the cost of other Weavers apprentices here I'm sure," and then of course, he'd have a bit more money to get his glasses fixed. He stresses keenly, "It is getting very close now they say, and I hear they won't let you onto the sand if you aren't presentable," he tuts, looking over at Keelyra's little…getting dressed dance. Not the right gender for him to notice, but he is amused nonetheless.

It's a co-ed dorm. Likely the lads that do like to gawk have had a lot to gawk at. Especially considering some of the weyrbred girls, like Keelyra, have no issue with walking practically naked to and from the baths. Either she doesn't notice Theicher's leering, or she simply doesn't care. The robe is wiggled back out of and thrown onto her cot so she can put her working clothes back on. "It'd be a disaster if a hatchling went on a rampage. Gotta be able to move around in it." Not that it hasn't happened before… candidates ending up naked on the sands, that is. She glances over to Solarus, "Depends how much yer asking. I've not got much, but we could perhaps make a trade. I can get anything ya want from the kitchens." Comes of working in them so long and managing most of the orders and storage lists.

Theicher gives his pathetic attempt at a robe a second look, giving it a poke with a thick finger. “I would like nothing more than to pay you, my good man. But sadly, a bet is a bet. And I don’t lose bets.” Even if he ends up wearing something that looks like a ‘brat made it come hatching day. “But can you make bags? I’ve been trying to get a more elaborate hunting bag made to put my supplies in. Maybe you could do that for me?” He licks his lips, leaning back against the nearby wall for some much needed support. “Well, I’m sure if you really had to move you could move, you just might end up a little naked by the time you make it to your destination.” Smirk. “But it doesn’t appear as if you’d much mind that.” And while it’s true, that it’s a co-ed dorm and all, Theicher just hasn’t been lucky enough to catch the lady folk changing very often. So Keelyra’s giving him a treat. Woo hoo.

Solarus sighs a little. He already has a friend in the kitchens who can sneak him things, but he shrugs at Keelyra. "I'll think about it," he decides, then Theicher he gives a smile. "I'd be happy to help you with your hunting bag, after I get my own robes sewn of course," he gets off his cot to look under it, and inspects every inch carefully before gingerly reaching under it for his sewing and weaving things. "No claws there," he says to himself more than anything else. Phew.

Keelyra did manage to make half of those stuffies the last time she stood. She's at least moderately capable with sewing. Maybe she's just lazy. Lazy and poor, bad combination. The teen flops down on her cot and holds up her robe with a sigh. "Maybe someone'll buy it from me. There's gotta be some folks it'll fit."

Theicher jerks a finger in the direction of the one he’s got caged, “This lil bugger has ended up cuddling my toes for the last time. If getting him cooked seven days in a row doesn’t get rid of him, I guess I might as well make ‘im a pet.” Although the hunter doesn’t look all that pleased that he is now the proud owner of a spiderclaw. “But sure, after the robe, I don’t really have all that much need for it ‘til after the hatching and all anyway. So no hurry.” And then it’s back to Keelyra and he just offers her a shrug, “Maybe some of the younger candidates can still fit in it. I know there’s a few that hardly look old enough to stop sucking their thumbs around this clutch. But I dunno if they’d have any marks on ‘em.”

Solarus pokes around in his baskets a bit and moans. "Well, I'm going to go ask my mother if she has any robes spare from all my brothers who've stood. No need to make me a new one if I can just alter one of their old ones. Then I can save the money I'd have spent on materials for getting my glasses fixed," he adjusts them a bit, and puts his basket away, then picks up the piece of metal he'd been trying to attach to become an arm. "And I'll have to maybe ask her maybe if I can borrow some marks to at least get the frames repaired. They need to be able to sit on my face," he says grumpily. "She'll probably try to convince me her glasses are just as good, even though I can't see with them." He turns to stomp out of the barracks, giving everyone a wave as he goes. Ah the joys of candidacy.

"My 'lizards seem to scare most of the things away from my cot," Keelyra says, peering over towards Theicher and his caged pet. Her small fair does look fairly full-bellied. Likely from a steady diet of claws that just waltz around. The teen bundles up her old robe roughly and shoves it into the trunk. "Eh, saw a few girls who seem small enough." As in they haven't developed curves yet. "Mebbe one of them'll want it. Was hopin' I could avoid havin' to make another."

“Isn’t that a bit unrealistic? I mean, you stood how many turns ago? Three? Four? If you haven’t grown any in that time, I’d say perhaps you need to would need to go to the healers.” Theicher hesitantly reaches over to pick up his discarded robe and once more attempts to get the two pieces affixed together. “And it’s not so bad, is it? I mean, if you’ve already done one, at least you know how to do it.”

"It hasn't been that long," Keelyra protests, flopping back to sprawl out on her cot. It groans in protest of the sudden movement on its old frame. "Just didn't think I'd grown that much." The usual tirade of someone who wants to refuse that they're coming that much closer to full adulthood. "I bet I'll turn eighteen before the hatching, even."

Theicher stabs himself quite hard in his index finger and lets out a yelp. “Shells!” And once more the robe is discarded and this time, he’s not going to pick it up again until he’s found something to shove on his overgrown finger tips. They may be rough but apparently they aren’t impervious to needles. “Well, it’s been a few turns now at least since it’s Shadhavarth clutch out on the sands.” Another shrug, “Eighteen is a good strong age for a young woman. Happy early turn day, in before I forget.”

"Guess it hasn't felt like that long," Keelyra mumbles, poking at her brown 'lizard. Like as not to get him to stop nipping at her. She digs about in her trunk, surfacing with a small thing of oil. Dancer, the green, is the first to leap into her lap to be oiled. The weyrbred girl gets to work. "Eighteen's a bit old though for someone who hasn't got any sort of trade. I really don't wanna be stuck in the kitchens all my life."

“Time flies as you get older. And I’ll tell you, it just keeps getting faster the older you get. By the time you’re fifty, things probably just fly by. You blink and there goes a day.” Theicher offers a wry smile before he shakes his head at that thought. “What’s stopping you from doing something then? You’re still young enough to apprentice somewhere. If you like cooking and what not you could always look into the baker craft. It’d get ya out of the weyr for a few turns at least. Or, if you’re sick of food, maybe look into something else that’s more fulfilling to do? You said you’re good with keeping track of something, maybe you could ask the Weyrwoman if there are any assistant headwoman spots open or something.” The hunter’s trying to be helpful at least.

"I almost joined the Dolphincraft, but I just don't know what I'd want to do. It's too big of a choice, y'know?" Keelyra finishes oiling up the green, only to have the brown force his way in for his turn. "What if I didn't like it? It's difficult to get back out." She wrinkles her nose at the last, "I dunno. I've thought of that before, but it's too much responsibility. I did like a Turn ago when they had me traveling to other Weyrs to work out trade options for goods, but that's not really something I could do other than rarely."

:leans back only to wiggle a taunting toe at his spiderclaw’s cage. Ah ha! “Well, if you don’t make this big choice soon, you’ll wind up too old to have much of any choice to make at all.” He offers, “And I don’t think it’d be that bad if you tried out a craft and decided it’s not your cup of klah. Better to try something and fail, learning something in the process, than be too scared to try anything at all.” There’s suddenly a knife in his hand and a small piece of wood that is already in some unrecognizable shape becomes his focus for attention. “If you don’t want responsibility but you are afraid you’ll get stuck in the kitchens. I dunno what to tell ya, except take a chance. Live a little.”

"Taking chances rarely works out," Keelyra says, snorting somewhat. Yep, for someone that's generally as rambunctious and upbeat as she, she has a somewhat bleak outlook. "I dunno. I mean, I know I gotta make a decision sometime, but I just don't wanna make the wrong one. And both my parents are riders, I've been asked to Stand twice now, so I also wonder if maybe I'm just stuck waiting 'cause there's a dragon for me eventually… But what if I get too old?" Poor Theicher, getting all this existential insanity.

“I’m not sure I’d go as far as to say that. Taking chances is what makes people grow, exposes them to new things that they may have never found out they liked. Not taking chances is a boring life indeed. But, suit yourself. I’m not about to twist your arm into doing stuff you don’t wanna do.” Theicher falls silent a moment, pausing in his whittling long enough to look up and settle chocolate gaze upon her. “Putting your life on hold in hopes of impressing a dragon is what children do. You’re not a child anymore. Perhaps if you don’t find your lifemate out on the sands this time, you should stop holding your breath and do something with your life. Or you’ll look back on your life and realize you did nothing at all.” Although it appears that Theicher has grown a bit tired with this conversation, as he pushes off his cot, slides his knife back in the sheath on his belt and heads for the door. “Either way. Good luck to you.” And without another word the young man is gone, probably off to go find a quiet, cool place to nap.

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