Bad Egg

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Galleries
An amphitheater cut of rock with row after row of hard benches to sit on. The galleries have a good view of the sands below and the action that takes place there during every hatching. Despite the times, people still come to see the new pairs formed and place bets on the outcome.


It's fairly late in the evening, and even with eggs on the sands there isn't a soul to be found, except one. Jaelyn is curled up alone on one of the long stone benches carved from the living rock, knees drawn up to his chest, arms folded over them, and his head tucked behind. It does little to hide the fact that someone's beat the snot out of him in the last sevenday or so, the bruises partially yellowed and abrasions well scabbed over. There are more along the knuckles of his left hand, palms and his knees. Any other evidence is covered by the black knit beanie atop his head, matching tanktop and swim shorts that cut off at his knees. Flipflops are stacked atop one another beside him, naked toes wriggling now and then as he stares off rather blankly over the eggs, his thought undoubtedly wandering.

Considering Feyruth's reputation, perhaps there's plenty of reason for most folk to stay away. So, a solo soul in the galleries isn't entirely unexpected. The arrival of another, on the other hand, might be. Aglaia's fairly quiet as she enters the galleries, a bundle of paperwork in hand. She's lost in thought as she picks her way along, apparently wandering aimlessly along. It's only after she winces - and violently at that - that she snaps out of whatever reverie she's in. A slow blink is joined by a frown when she spots the battered Candidate. She squints. "What in goodness's name happened to you?"

The silence awarded by the hour and the clutch dam were enough to call Jaelyn here like a siren's song, free from the hustle and bustle of the happier candidates. Lashes lower some at the sound of soft footsteps, scrutching up a fractional bit more tighter perhaps in some sort of effort to make himself invisible. Obviously this doesn't work because the footsteps become louder and louder, and then there is a voice that comes from the owner of those feet. Golden eyes slide, slowly, to the corner closest to the source and he stiffens, then widen a touch. Yep, he spied the knot. There is a long drawn out span of absolutely nothing, not even breathing considering how he's managed to turn himself into some sort of statue of himself, and then his gaze flicks back to the eggs. Accusingly. "Bad egg." he replies softly, tension releasing at the same time as if he's resigned himself to his fate.

"Really." Deadpan, that. Aglaia crosses over to plunk down next to him, though not too close: she still needs some wiggle room for her paperwork. It's just close enough for conversation, though. "I guess if any egg would beat the snot out of a Candidate, it'd be one of hers," there's a nod to the dam. "Or Valigath's, honestly. They're both… well." Her nose wrinkles. "But, no. Bad egg isn't a good enough answer. I need to know who did it and why." She leans forward slightly and twists, just enough to try to get a good look at Jaelyn. "And I need to know your name, too." Her knot? That's pretty much all the identifier anyone needs.

If Jaelyn was smart, which might come into question sometimes, he probably didn't think that answer was going to end the matter then and there. The space that Aglaia puts between them is noted, a little more of the tension along his shoulders letting go noticably. He has nothing to say about the clutch dam, or Valigath, arms tightening over his knees when the goldrider goes on into the main point here. Child, explain thyself. The computer crafter candidate (try saying that three times fast), releases a soft sound that might of been a sigh but it was difficult to tell. He keeps his attention fixed on some point across the galleries as his quiet and even monotone fills the silence once again, "Had a bad experience with one of the eggs durin' a touchin'. Left to go blow off some steam, three sailor found me behind the Tiki…" Well at least it was an intereting story? Maybe there were pirates and a fair maiden that needed rescuing! "One of them said I must think I was big and bad, 'cause I was ventin' on a rock back there. I was already worked up, so I said somethin' stupid…" He mutters then something colorful about the sailor's mother and a watchweyr, which might out of context be hilarious, but probably not to a group of sailors looking to kill some time. "…the rest is on mah face." And other places covered up no doubt. Those golden eyes slide back to the corner closest to Aglaia as she leans and twists to get a better look, but he's not moving it seems unless he's told to. A sevenday and half old, it still looks like they worked him over pretty good. "…Jaelyn…" His name is given very quietly, but at least he answered.

"Mm-hm." Aglaia listens, though any judgement is reserved; her expression, to her credit, remains neutral. She flips through her paperwork after a moment, her eyes sliding away from him to free her up to do just that. He won't go unwatched, though; Jaelyn's squarely in her peripheral vision. "Have you gone to the Healers?" is the next question. It's not the last, though; but that'll wait. Instead, she'll wait for his answer and add, "I'll pull the shipping logs and see if they're still here or not. If they are, they won't be and I'll have a talk with the Sea Craft. See if they'll get their crews in check." She straightens and laces her hands behind her neck to settle into a sort of stretch. "If they're not, same thing, I guess. They must have been young idiots to go messing around with a Candidate, even if that Candidate was mouthy." There's a pause. Then, "Not like you're going to get away without some punishment, Jaelyn. I don't care how upset you were over an egg. I hated the egg Valigath came out of, but it's just an egg. They don't know better. But. You represent the Weyr. Period. Your behavior reflects on the Weyr. Do you understand?"

Jaelyn nods once, which Aglaia might see as she was keeping an eye on him, but he does follow it up with a soft "Ya." He had been to the healers, so aside from his smart mouth maybe he did have some brains in there after all. Nodding a few more time for the explanation on what was going to happen to the sailors, though because he either didn't give their names, or even know who they were, he doesn't exactly look as if he believed anything was going to come of it. Then again, with him hiding there it was difficult to say if he had an expression at all. There was certainly nothing of an expression in the part of his bruised face that was visible. His eyes do wander back her way from wherever he'd moved them off to after she'd leaned away. He doesn't whine, or complain when she said there would be punishment, or try to reason away his actions. There is only a single nod, and a quiet, "…'kay." When she asks if he understands? Another nod. For someone who couldn't control his mouth and got himself beat down for it, he was doing a fair job now. Then again, who would argue with the woman wearing that particular knot?

And Aglaia's silent for a little while after, with a nod to his 'ya' and nothing after. She writes something down, folds it neatly into a square, and holds it up - only for a blue firelizard to blip out of between and snatch it up. He's gone in a flash and the Weyrwoman's hands drop to the pile of papers on her lap. "That's not good enough," she says after that 'kay'. "I need to hear you tell me that you understand that you represent the Weyr. And if it turns out that one of those," she tips her head toward the sands, "has your lifemate, then that goes double." She starts writing again. Another note, quickly jotted, quickly offered, and quickly taken - this time by a brown. "So. Here's the deal. You won't be doing whatever chores that are assigned. You're going to be working at the docks for the next sevenday. It's hard work, but maybe that'll help you get whatever it is out of your system. And you're going to check in with a Mind Healer this sevenday. It'll help. I promise." Spoken from experience, that. "Repeat it. So I know you understand."

Dark lashes lower when Aglaia tells him that his okay wasn't good enough, but there is no argument. "I understand I represent the weyr." he repeats, verbatim, in his evenly flat monotone. Considering that it sounded no different than the rest of the time he spoke, it should be rather clear that it was just the way he spoke. There is no attention given to the notes or the firelizards as things are written, paper is folded, and then given over to disappear. When the eggs are indicated, his gaze darts that way and something soft and inaudible is murmured. Whatever it was, has deflated him considerably as his shoulders take on a rather slumped position. It doesn't last long though, because when his punishment is finally revealed, they stiffen considerably and his eyes take on a hardened look. At least he was now glaring at the other side of the galleries and not the goldrider or the eggs, otherwise that might be misinterpreted. "I'm workin' at the docks fer the next sevenday and I will see a mindhealer." Now his voice was a little bit growly sounding, but still kept at an even tone.

There's just one last bit of writing to be done - and that's a name. "Here. This is the Mind Healer I want you to see. He's good. Patient." Aggie's mouth pulls a bit to a side, betraying some emotion that she quickly forces down. "He helped my mother out." So, maybe, that bit of emotion isn't completely gone. "And he's helped me, some. Dealing with-" she trails off, a hand fluttering around her head. "Her," is the best she can do without invoking Valigath's name directly. But, it's not enough. The goldrider flinches a moment later and hisses out a sigh between clenched teeth. It passes, but her features remain a little pinched even after. "Anyway. Ah. It's only for a sevenday, okay? And I'm not going to make you keep going, unless the Mind Healer says you need to." She tries a smile, lopsided as her smiles tend to be. "Okay? You good?"

And now for the big reveal, as Jaelyn has to uncurl himself in over to take the note that Aglaia offers him. The entirety of his the left side of his face is black, purple, yellow and still pretty swollen. He has a healing split next to the piercing there at the corner of his bottom lip. There were scabbed over scrapes, and a few abrasions as well. A few other bruises are peaking out from beneath his tanktop, already starting to fade, but considering how pale he was they were hard to miss. "Ya dun get along with yer dragon?" he asks, perhaps out of some object curiosity, but his voice was back to as if he were reading from a mathematics textbook. He glances down at the name, Radomir, and then back to the goldrider. He releases a soft puff of air as he keeps reading the name, over and over and over and over again. Staring at it, as if he'd better get used to seeing it. "Probably not." he mutters, absently, though he likely wasn't really listening to what she had actually meant by her final questions.

She doesn't answer his question at first. Aglaia, instead, replies, "You will be. One way or the other." A shoulder rises and falls. "Unless- well. Even if you Impress, even if you have problems, it'll work out. It'll be okay." She thumbs through her paperwork, but there's no way any work is going to get done now. His question is finally rolled around enough for her to answer, though she'll do it while she's looking at the eggs. His bruising, his injuries, all of it is noted, surely - but there's nothing she can do. Time will have to patch that together. "Valigath is… difficult. She's a like like how her egg was - metal and fire and choking smoke. She laughs, but it's- it hurts. Here." She taps the side of her head. "She's loud and she's angry and she's mercurial and she burns. We didn't get along. We still… don't always, but it's better. It happens - a difficult bond, I mean. It's probably more common now than it ever was." She sucks her teeth and looks sidelong at Jaelyn. "What do you think it'll be like? For you, I mean. Did you always want to Stand? Do you dream of being a rider?"

The piece of paper given is slid into the pocket of his swim trunks, even if Jaelyn had undoubtedly memorized the name penned upon it. He draws his legs back up against his chest, wrapping his arms around his shins and drops his chin to the top of one knee. He quietly listens as Aglaia speaks, and whatever he thinks of her hopeful explanation of what she thinks will happen impression or no impression is met with absolutely no response. Neither his eyes nor his face reveal a thing of what he might think himself, his stony expression securely in place. He might be waiting patiently for the answer to the only question he had yet to ask of her, though even when that finally comes he only nods his head and gives a sideways glance towards the eggs. He doesn't seem surprised though by what she says, for whatever that is worth. "Wonder if they're startin' to rebel against this whole impression thin'." he murmurs, "In in the shell they know stuff, and ask questions." His voice goes softer still, falling into a contemplative silence that drags on for so long it might seem that he's done talking now, but then he starts again. "Maybe they're startin' to question if we need them anymore." Without thread to fight, it was a valid observation, and rather astute for a fifteen turn old with anger management issues. Aglaia's next round of questions though, instantly draws his attention back to her and welcomes back a very profound amount of tension to his shoulders. "It's mah seventh time since I was twelve." A flat, and blunt a reply if there ever was one, though there is no animosity that can be detected at least. "I dunno." He shrugs, dropping those golden eyes to the stone pathway that had carried him here who knows how long ago. "I was pretty excited the first time, thought it meant…somethin'."

"Maybe." Aglaia folds forward, elbows resting on her paperwork and fingers absently lacing together. "My dad's dragon is kind of like her, in some ways. Ill-tempered and hungry and hot, like that. We're… well, I guess we just aren't necessary for the world any more. I don't think it's them rebelling against us, though. I think… I think, maybe, we just don't have that focus we used to." Her mouth slides into a humorless line. "It's not that they don't need us - we… we really don't need them." She looks to him, then away, back at the eggs with an apologetic expression. She's been mindful to keep her voice low out of respect, but still. It's almost blasphemy in some ways. "Not that I'd trade her for anything. She does love me. She's just… loud." But, then, she's silent to listen, her head bobbing a bit in thought. And that flatness of his voice? Funnily, it seems that she might be familiar with it - even comfortable, to some degree. "Did a bit of traveling, then. What Weyrs have you been to?" Earnest curiosity. "And- I guess, why do you keep Standing? Are you still pretty excited about it?"

Jaelyn's eyes remain where they've fallen for now, though a gentle bob of his head now and then says that he's listening, even if he has nothing else to add. Blasphemy or no, toes are again wriggled and feet shifted so that ankles are crossed. Eventually though, he does speak up again, "Mah grandparents on mah mom's side were always gripin' about their tithes to the weyrs, and while they're not exactly very nice people I can see their side of it too. I get that the economy is a fragile thin', and I think they do too cause gripe or no, they still pay." Seems he's not just a battered face with that line of thinking. "There's other thin's dragons can do other than fight thread, ain't like there ain't still bad people even if the skies are clear." Or heavy cargo to transport, or people to rescue. You know, things. "Bit." he says on his travels, then sighing so softly that it might even be missed, "Firtst time was at Ista, where I was born…" he begins before he rattles off half the weyrs on Pern, the last two of which are Fort Weyr and of course Half Moon Bay. As for why he keeps standing, he answers first and foremost with a shrug of that tattooed shoulder of his, "I dunno. It's hard to explain. Part of it is I guess I want to prove…" A pause and he tightens up his lips, whatever was to follow is swallowed and he clams up. Which is both helpful and informative, isn't it? Another shrug soon follows, "Nervous maybe, excitement kinda goes away after being left behind over and over."

The Weyrwoman nods slowly, brow furrowed a touch. "It's tricky, sure. I'm- and, I mean, we. All of us- we're trying to find ways to not rely on tithes any more. It's slow and it's hard, but- it'll be easier on everyone when Holds don't have to pay us as much. It's true that there's a lot dragonriders can still do," all of which is nodded to. "They should just have to pay for all of that instead of, well, just paying out of tradition." Her nose wrinkles a little. "Though, I don't think any Weyr would want to run the risk of losing a rider to dealing with… Renegades and their like. That's why we have guards. But. Anyway." A hand flaps a bit, dismissing the topic on her end. There's a slow and thoughtful nod, but she can't offer much else there. Just a half-smile and some idle picking at her fingernails. "Gotta prove to yourself that you're deserving of something. Or maybe to your family that you're worth something. I… trust me, I know." Her smile twists and, abruptly, she starts gathering her things. "Better than being scared. Nervous, I mean. Just- just don't be too nervous. That's why we have you out on the sands, touching all the eggs. You need to know all of them. Just in case they need to know you, too. That might help with the nervousness."

If Jaelyn had anything else to add with his strange uncharacteristically unteenager view of politics, the wave of the golderider's hand puts a stop to it being voiced. He had only nodded and listened as she shared her views on what he had said, and left it at that. Perhaps he merely understood her take on the matter, and was fine with letting it go. Regardless, he instead moves on to the second topic of conversation, and although he doesn't jump up and point at her as she hits the nail on the head, twice, he stiffens once more, and can only nod. His gaze does lift from the floor though, looking over at her past the thickness of his lashes, as she starts to get her stuff together. "Kinda hard to control bein' nervous, but I'll try…" His eyes move to the eggs now, sliding over them one at time before finding one in particular that turns the corners of his mouth downwards. That must of been the offender that he says started the whole mess that got him a sevendays on the docks and a trip to a mindhealer.

"It's… well. Familiarity, that'll get the nervousness out, I think. It worked for me. Mostly." Aglaia stands, paperwork in hand. A final look is cast over the eggs and then she winces - somewhere, Jaelyn might even hear the faint keening of a dragon. It's not a mourning sound, though; it's just shrill and horrible and kind of wobbly, like bad laughter. "Anyway. He'll be able to help. And, next time? If there is a next time?" Though her tone heavily suggests there had better not be a next time, "Walk away before it gets too bad. Find someone. Anyone. Just don't- don't let that eat at you." And, with that, she heads for the exit. "Take care of yourself, Jaelyn."

Eyes are betowed upon the goldrider as she speaks even as eyebrows lift at Aglaia's words, but only slightly, and then the passing expressiveness passes returning his face to one of the utmost neutrality. Jaelyn might of responded, but the sound of a dragon keening captures his interest, and while the source was not in a place where he could actually see from here, he looks in the direction he probably thinks it came from. However, Aglaia's change in tone certainly draws his gaze back to her, nodding once as he curls up a bit tighter. There is absolutely no argument with what she says, or that knot she wears. He doesn't speak again, merely watching as the woman leaves him in the solitude she found him in, and he goes back to glaring at that egg. That bad, bad egg.


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