Dumb Candidate Got Trolled

Fort Weyr - Shenanigan's Lounge
The natural walls of this cavern haven been completely covered and replaced by straight and sometimes curving walls of brickwork. There's method to the madness of covering stone with stone. It's as simple as the electric buzz in the room. New grade electric lights dot the fancy brick worked walls, with wires cleverly hidden behind, allowing more focus to be centered on the rest of the room rather than the numerous strings of wire needed to operate the lighting. Each bulb roosts in a bronzed metal flowering fixture, giving the room a rich atmosphere. Still, the walls are not the only place which has stone on stone appeal. The floor has been run smooth, the surface now slate rock, creating an imperial cast.
Beyond the actual foundations of the lounge, the luxury continues. High backed wooden chairs with padded white seats have been stationed all around the room. Between the individual chairs are benches fashioned out of the same rich wood with pillows made to flatter the cushions. There are low lying coffee tables or end tables near the individual chairs, while there's larger dinning room sized tables with chairs to match scattered as well, giving much variety to those who find themselves in the room. Decorative hangings and framed artwork has been neatly hung around the room, but to offset the meticulous method of the room, there's some pieces that give a sporty feeling to the room - such as a fishing rod or a snow shoe.
Of course, the final appeal of the room comes in the form of it's purpose; athletic competition. There are several games of darts lining the walls, various decks of dragon poker cards available, a large velvet lined pool table centered to one side of the lounge, a mat area surrounded by ropes, and an area that keeps track of all the runner races around the world via radio signal, giving constant updates on the status of the runners. Lastly, there's a bar here, small and built with brick as well. There's usually a bartender on duty willing to mix drinks during the evening hours.

Having expected that the sands would be safe for a little while as she went to get something to eat and check on a few things (which she will later discover was a bad idea), Inri has departed her dragon's side to find food and have a rest somewhere a little less sweltering. Shenanigan's is great for that because someone will give her a mid-day cocktail and a sandwich and she can sit around and watch other people play pool. That's what she's doing right now; munching on the sandwich, anyway. After one sip of the cocktail, she makes a sour face and pushes it aside. The lounge is crowded, but it's crowded for this hour, meaning it's not overwhelmingly so. A bronze firelizard is also now trying to get into the abandoned cocktail, which merits a firm, "No," and an attempt to extricate him.

Also in, having lunch, is a very new candidate that nobody has seen before…probably because it is his first day in the Weyr. Daralyn has food! And a (non-alcoholic) drink, too. The firelizard-in-the-drink moment manages to partially distract him from the meal, though, and he steps over to Inri. "Can I help…one of you?" Or both… "I think he might be a bit of a lightweight…

"Yeah, he's definintely not meant to be drinking but he grew up in a tavern so — oh!" Inri hadn't been looking at her new companion at first, and now that she's actually fully facing Daralyn (having lifted Liechten by the neck and hauled him out of the drink and onto the table, where his wet front paws are making a mess), she's able to spot the candidate's knot and grins. "You're one of mine. I think. Unless you're a carryover from Kayeth's which I guess makes you one of mine now anyway. Do you have a napkin?"

"Uh…gimme a sec?" Daralyn ducks over to an empty table and grabs one. "Here you go. And…I guess I am?" He says, more quizzically than anything. "Ha'ze wasn't too heavy on the details…"

"Thank you. Of course he wasn't." Inri will actually address that in a minute, but first she has to clean booze off her firelizard. Gross. Idiot. She flicks him in the nose, though it's with some affection. The firelizard. Not Daralyn. Daralyn is safe from Inri fingers, at least for now. "That's Ha'ze for you," she adds, sounding utterly unsurprised and not looking too moved by it, once she turns to face the candidate again, "What did he fail to tell you, or is that a little too nonspecific? I'm Inri, if that wasn't obvious."

"Nice to meet you, Inri." Beat. "Uh…I'm gonna go with 'non-specific'. He didn't tell me a whole lot, at least beyond his firelizard having picked me out to be a candidate or something like that."

Inri giggles, because Inri is kind of a terrible person at times and the statement is funny. She should also probably explain better, though now it seems a little haughty and rude to give her title — so she doesn't. Exactly. "My Kouzevelth is the clutchdam, in case he left out the barest detail … first time standing, I take it?" At least she is all welcoming smiles, especially as he is distracting her from the fact that her drink was off. "Kainaesyth, at least, is — he is less open and welcoming than Zel as far as wanting everyone to have a chance at her babes, so I suppose he could be counted as discerning."

"Ahh…" Pause. "That detail was…did not get mentioned." Daralyn pauses for a moment. "In fact, the whole discussion was…a bit short." Blink. "Yeah, it's my first time standing…I kinda got dragged in out of the rain." Well, not literally…there was no /actual/ dragging involved. Holding at knife-point, yes. Dragging, not so much.

"Why don't we have manuals," Inri laments, half to herself (or to Liechten the bronze) and half to Daralyn, though it isn't as if she expects him to have an answer. "We should have manuals. So that people who are new to candidacy can just read the information, excepting those who can't read, and it would be so much easier. Everyone on the same page. At least you got out of the rain, hm?" Was it actually raining or was that metaphorical? She will believe it was actually raining. "You know the rules and things, or have you in fact been skimped on — literally everything." Maybe another candidate explained something.

"Uh…I got /some/ of the rules. I think. Something about having to do a headstand every seventh day?" Daralyn deadpans. It is an open question whether he's being snarky or if…well, it is quite possible that another candidate decided to 'explain' things to him in terms that might be…considered an act of creative storytelling.

More laughter. Either Inri thinks everything is funny or — no, Inri just thinks most things are funny at some level. "You know, I wish that were a real rule. It could definitely weed out people who can't meet weyrling PT." There's probably also candidate PT, but Inri only remembers little bits and pieces of her candidacy and she isn't involved with that end of things anymore. "Don't drink too much, officially don't have sex but since you can't get pregnant I suppose don't have sex anyone is going to find out about is more reasonable and also don't do it in the barracks or with female candidates, if you're not on an excursion you should probably have some kind of chore to do. If you haven't had a physical yet you need one but there's time. No brawling, that's always a problem. Um." She has to stop and think, presses her lips together. "That … is everything that stands out. I can answer questions, maybe that'll be more useful?"

Daralyn snickers at the interpretation of the 'no sex' rule. "Yeah, I also got a list of chores…" Daralyn begins rattling off a list of them. "…oh, and where can I find a long stand? I was told to go somewhere and ask for one, but I didn't catch where." No, Daralyn didn't get trolled this morning at /all/.

Inri … stares. Inri continues to stare. The more Daralyn explains the more Inri is trying not to burst out into hysterical giggles, and her expression is trying to remain stoic but it's … not working. "I, er, you don't need one," she says instead, and is now only barely resisting covering her face with her hand, "Your actual chores should be on a board somewhere in the barracks. They're usually cleaning or simple kitchen tasks."

"…right." Pause, with Daralyn looking a little embarassed. "…I'm getting picked on because I'm the new guy…right?" Point for Daralyn. "I'll check the board when I get back there…I think I might have just accidentally wasted half of the morning. So, uh…" Daralyn takes a step, grabs a piece of his food (since he /does/ want to end up being fed), and returns to the conversation. "I…think I can manage the no sex thing." Hopefully. He /is/ sixteen, however. "Brawling…might be a bit tricky this evening." That's more deadpan…he's a bit annoyed at the pranking, but not truly upset at it. It /was/ clearly in good fun, at least. "Anything else I should avoid?"

"You are at least one of them," Inri agrees, as far as beign the new guy: "It's so early yet there will be lots of other new guys, and I'm sure you'll be expected to carry on the tradition." She doesn't even disapprove. Candidates will be candidates, especially the teenage ones. "I'll let Talica and Zhirayr know that it wasn't your fault your time was caught up in some … er, less than entirely attributable chores and that they should probably excuse your time. In this regard they both answer to me," sort of, "so that's taken care of. Make sure your opponent just doesn't throw a punch back. Lemonade?"

Daralyn grins back at the sage advice. "Thanks a bunch. I'll keep all of that in mind. And…that lemonade sounds delicious."

"It is. I tell people I moved here for the lemonade." She didn't. Inri lies to people. But it's a quiet lie, and she gets her favorite drudge's attention just long enough to make sure that they are served with two fresh glasses. "And it makes the whole summer thing more bearable. I was cursed this turn. Summer on the sands." It's happened before, and she always hates it. "I hope your Search experience wasn't too horrible, for all that you didn't get a very good introduction. I'm pretty sure Ha'ze doesn't have much experience with it." That's why, of course.

"Not much a fan of warm weather?" Daralyn doesn't seem to mind it too horribly…but he's also from down by the water, and the lower altitude means he's a bit more used to it. "My Search experience?" That part lasted a whopping thirty seconds…as if that wasn't somewhat apparent by now.

"Mm. I'm curious how Kai picked you out," says Inri, reclining back against her pillow chair again. Her response to anything about warm weather is to make a little bit of a face. "I hate heat," she adds in an aside. "The hot sands and the hot air just make for misery and that's why I'm escaping here while I can."

"He…he sniffed me and did something poking around in my mind and then Ha'ze said he'd decided he wanted me to take part and that since I'd wanted a job…" As Inri can probably tell, this was a /highly/ consultative process between dragon and potential rider. Daralyn's voice trails off as he sips some lemonade, before returning. "…why am I getting the feeling that this wasn't quite what was supposed to happen like that?"

Well, most dragons shouldn't be prodding around in people's minds, but … it's Kainaesyth. Inri is therefore unsurprised, because Kainaesyth's concept of mental boundaries is worse than Kouzevelth's. No wonder they make such a pair sometimes. "Um — it could be worse," she says honestly, after a sip of lemonade. "Candidacy is sort of a job. It's not a paid or a permanent one, but it is kind of a job. What job had you actually wanted?"

"I was planning to apply to work in security?" Daralyn offers as a response. The whole situation is…well, Daralyn is now utterly confused as to what /should/ have happened versus what /did/ happen. "I still need some training there…" Again, he's sixteen. Not exactly a hardened guard.

"There's a guard or two," at this point Inri can't remember if there's actually a second one, "in the candidate class already, and there's usually a few in the group by the end of things, so — you may be able to ask them about things, if you like. One's a personal friend of mine, Alister." Personal friend, pseudo-family, whatever. "He's a sergeant. Was a sergeant? Will continue to carry the rank of sergeant but not actively, I think, unless the guard is extremely short-handed." And it's Fort, so that might happen. "Decided trying candidacy first was a better idea, then? We do appreciate it, regardless of the outcome." Yes, of course he decided.

"Well…it's what came up first. I didn't even get asked about anything else…it was just…it sort of happened." Yeah, it was that kind of an evening. It was a little rushed, you might say.

Inri's eyebrows raise. Both of them, this time, but only for about hakf a second. "You didn't get asked?" she repeats, cautiously. "As in, you didn't get asked if you would rather just get taken to the guardhouse — or you didn't get asked if you wanted to stand at all." It'd probably be best she confirm now that Daralyn wasn't forced into it. Oops?

"Uh, I wasn't really…asked…anything?" Daralyn looks thoroughly lost at the situation. "It just got put in front of me. I mean…it's fine…but…no? Neither?" Uh…help?

"For the record," Inri says with a thin, but still friendly, smile, "you are supposed to be asked if you wish to stand, not so much informed you are going to. I'm glad it's fine, though, I'd hate to have you back out." He likes the lemonade, which means she likes him — and Kouzevelth is firmly a 'the more bodies the better' type of dragon.

"That's…good to know." Pause. "Yeah…given the choice, at this point I'll stick with it. Not sure what I'd have done if this had been the case last night…" Pranks notwithstanding. "…but…really, I can't think of any good reason not to stay with it. I /will/ talk to one of the candidates who's also a guard, though…y'know, for something permanent if this doesn't work out."

"They might Impress, too, so make sure that someone leaves a note with the guard proper," Inri recommends, still taking considerable enjoyment in her lemonade. She's quite bright-eyed, really. "Because otherwise it'll be a while before anyone can do anything. Though riding in Thunderbird's very similar to being in the guard a lot of the time. And — Ha'ze isn't a bad person, I promise." Just in case.

"True…I'll ask them for someone to speak with in the guard." Beat. "Yeah, I figured Ha'ze was just doing what his dragon asked him to. Or something. They seemed to be…communicating…before he threw this in front of me." Then there's a pause. "What is Thunderbird?"

"Our police and search and rescue wing — guards and, well, rescuers on dragons, really. They cover more of the outer coverage areas than the Weyr itself, but there's some of that too." Inri is all the levels of excellent explainer that Ha'ze isn't. "And Kainaesyth can be pushy, yes." Which is why Ha'ze HAS BASICALLY NO CLOTHING. "So can Kouzevelth, sometimes, which is why I'm afraid I need to get going back to the sands, now," she still has no idea about what happened on the sands during her conversation, but Kouzevelth also isn't likely to inform her so much as just … she's woken from her nap and wants her there. "But I will see you around, for sure, likely very soon."

Daralyn grins back at the idea of joining Thunderbird. Hey, it's something for him to shoot for! "Thanks for talking to me about all of this. Er…especially the chores bit. I've got stuff to do, too…" Actual stuff now, actually! "…so…I'll be off as well." With that, he grabs some remnant of his food to go. "It was…really nice meeting you, Inri."

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