Fort Weyr

Fort Weyr - Candidate Barracks
// Carved from a natural bubble in the volcanic stone, this cavern has room enough to hold around two dozen occupants in comfort. Set into one of the long walls is a natural hearth area, not as large as some but more then enough to warm the cavern. Before it lays an old, well-worn rug that's colors have faded over turns of being un cared for. Mismatched chairs, an old couch, and a few randomly placed floor pillows finish up the sitting type area where candidates can relax after a long day of chores.
Along the walls are stationed sets of cots and clothes presses with curtains dividing them for privacy, each made up to the standards of the Weyrwoman. The left hand row of cots is made up with coverlets of brown and trimmed in black for male candidates, while the right hand row is made up with a lighter brown coverlet that's trimmed in white for the female candidates.
Above, the soft white light from electric lamps cast down during waking hours, while basket of emergency glows are stored in corners around the cavern for use during power outages.//

After returning from chores— and taking a long hot bath to remove the stink of fish guts, Phin has been sprawling on his cot doing a whole lot of nothing. Well, nothing is not exactly true, he's been thinking. He's been thinking alot, actually. And it is that thought that has him twisting around to stretch out on his stomach and glancing at Kezresan while fishing a cookie out of his not so hidden stash. "Yes."

"What?" Because Kez? Totally in his own head. Or in his book, as the case may be. Even in his down time, he's looking rather proper where he lays across his cot, socked feet crossed at the ankle. Aloe as curled up in his lap, but blue Vera is MIA (probably stealing things off tables somewhere, who knows). A peek up from the healer-candidate, a frown, and he fixes Phineas with a confused look. "Are you talking to me?"

Phineas rolls his eyes, although the expression is aimed more at himself then at Kezresan. "I am," he answers as he rolls up to sitting on his cot and shoves the cookie in his mouth. "You asked me a question and I didn't really answer you." And, all things being equal? That's kind of rude. "I do want to impress. I don't know if I particularly /like/ the fact that I do, but I do."

It takes Kezresan a bit of time — though not TOO much — to connect the answer, with the question, and when exactly he asked the question. But his frown just goes deeper rather than smoothing out into that 'ah' of comprehension. "You don't know if you like the fact that you want to Impress, but you want to Impress…" he repeats, rolling the words around in his head, ruminating. A moment of silence, and then Kez is stuffing a bookmark into his page and tossing the novel aside (well, not really /tossing/. More like, gently placing it to the side), and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not sure I understand that," he admits. "You want to Impress, but you don't want to want to Impress?"

Phineas exhales a sigh, one hand raising to scrub over his face. "No. But, yes?" It's confusing and he knows it and now he is kinda kicking himself for bringing it up, at all. Swallowing the cookie in his mouth, he waves one hand as he falls onto his back on the cot. "It's like… It's like it wouldn't.. You know, the whole getting your hopes it. Like.. I dunno, it's kinda like wanting to get something you KNOW you are not going to get for your turnday?" Considering the words for a moment, he decides that is accurate and shrugs. "I just…" Trailing off, he flounders a bit for what to say and shakes his head.

"Oh." Because maybe Kezresan understands a little of that. Maybe. He's still looking rather perplexed, a wrinkle formed between his eyebrows as he frowns. Reaching out, nimble fingers scritch-scratch at Aloe as he muses on his own thoughts a moment or two. "I think I understand," comes at long last. "You want it. But you don't want to be disappointed if it doesn't happen." A push of his free hand against the bed and he sits up a bit straighter. "It makes sense. Who wouldn't want a dragon?"

"Exactly," Finn agrees as he curls one arm up to pillow his head. "And the odds are good it's going to end in tears." Not that he'd cry, mind you, but the point remains the same. It's the last, though, that has his head lolling to the side, pale eyes regarding Kezresan for a long moment. "People who want a family? Or to pursue craft mastery? Holders?" Granted, he falls into none of those catagories, barring the family bit. "I mean," he adds. "Not that I had high asperations of being a master potter, but… I dunno. That's not really the point, though." Grimacing mildly he gives another slow shake of his head before turning his gaze to the ceiling. "While I am all about flights of fancy? This one has the potential for actually happening. That seems to make it all so much more."

"I don't think candidates think a lot about those things," muses Kezresan. "Not when they're faced with the opportunity to Impress. Even I will admit," he continues, "to day dreaming of dragons as a child." A shallow shrug, and his eyes dart down to the green firelizard on his chest, tracing the line of her little neck ridges with his fingers. A little nod of his head at the words, though it's another bit of a pause before Kez can think of anything suitable to answer. Or, rather, to get his thoughts coherent enough to speak aloud. "I understand. I said yes because it was my duty to do so. Is my duty to do so," he amends quickly. "But I can't help thinking of the consequences, should it actually…" happen. "I've worked very hard to be where I am."

Phineas slants a glance at Kez, studying his face for a long moment before nodding. "But, I mean, if you do impress, you can still be a healer. It is definately one of those things that will come in very handy." Pottery? Not so much. "There is just so much to think about," he admits as he turns his gaze back to the ceiling. "I mean it's one thing to play dragonrider as a kid, but…" It's a whole other level of scary to actually think about doing it. Even without the threat of thread, it's a daunting prospect. "I keep trying to imagine how my life would change," he murmurs. "I mean, the obvious changes aside, it just seems like everything would be dramatically different."

A stubborn shake of his head accompanies Kezresan's subdued, "It's not just… It's not the same." Mute, eyes on Aloe rather than Phineas, he can only agree with a little nod of his head at all the things yet to think about. "Entirely," decides Kez. "Your life will change entirely. Nothing is the same after." So morose! So fatalistic! "Theoretically," he continues, "It is worth it." Theoretically. "But everything would be different. Where you live, and who you interact with. How you organize your priorities, and how you spend your time…" Frown. "I don't know how I feel about it," he admits.

"Me either," Finn sighs. "I mean…" He doesn't really know what he means at this point. "But change is good," he points out. "Everyone says so." And being the creature of chaos that he is? He's not opposed to the thought of it. "I just… It's a really long time." Weyrlinghood. "Which is silly to think about," he admits as he scrubs a hand over his face. "But it's there, bouncing around in my head." With /lots/ of room to do so, no doubt. "And I can't help thinking that there are people who deserve that a lot more then I do."

"It's got nothing to do with who /deserves/ it," argues Kezresan, which might not be as helpful as he's hoping it is. "The dragons choose. It's their decision, not ours." And while hypothetically he is alright with this, there's a stubborn bit of apprehension, almost /fear/, that is squished like a bug at the click of teeth and stubborn scowl that Kez plants across his face. "A long time?" he questions, seizing on that rather than the choices of baby dragons. "I suppose so. But apprenticeship was longer. I don't think it's that long in the scheme of things. And what else would you do, anyway? I don't mean," he's quick to add, as though hearing how rude that might have sounded, "that you wouldn't be productive! I'm sure you'd have lots to do without… after… ugh," and he just sighs and admits defeat. "I just meant that it's like everything else. Time passes."

Phineas exhales a quiet laugh, pale eyes slanting a glance toward Kezresan as he fumbles for words. "I knew what you meant," he assures in wry tones. "And you're right," he allows. "I mean there isn't a lot we /can't/ do should that happen." And what there is? He's pretty sure he can do without for a bit. "I wonder how they know," he muses. "The dragons I mean. Like.. do you wonder if they know already? We /have/ kinda met some of them," he allows. "Or maybe they just go with whatever strikes their fancy at the moment?" He has no idea. He's pretty sure Kez doesn't either. But, right now, talking is helping with processing all the thoughts that have been zigging through his head.

Kezresan might have spent a great deal of time thinking through the various things that must be given up as a weyrling. That must be given up as a candidate. But he's not going to linger on them right now. That would just make this entire situation awkward and uncomfortable. "I don't know," he sighs, commiserating with Phineas. "How could they know, in the egg? I tried asking my mother once," he admits. "About what… about what might make a dragon pick one person over the other." A scowl, and he mutters, "She was not helpful," in a tone just shy of bitter. "I don't think it is a… flippant decision on the part of the dragon. It is a bond for life. I would hope that the dragon makes a thoughtful choice." Yes Kez, because infant dragons have all the time in the world to weigh the pros and cons of the candidates on the sands.

"Which is why I suspect they /must/ be thinking about it already," Finn points out. "I mean, even the ones that wander on the sands don't wander for long. And they are hungry on top of it? Never a good time to make decisions," he points out. "I mean, like you said, those things take time and thought." Or they should. Still, it's the kind of circular thinking that makes his brain hurt. "Throwing pots is so much easier."

"I just wish we got a say in it," decides Kez, looking rather doom and gloom over on his cot. "The dragons decide for us. What if—" but he doesn't finish that thought aloud. Because who would turn down a dragon? No one. As if they could do such a thing. So he ends that unfinished sentence with an underwhelming, "nevermind," and goes back to lavishing affection on little Aloe. A snort, and he agrees with a morbid, "Setting a compound fracture is easier." A grimace, and he concedes that, "At least it won't take long. The Hatching itself, I mean."

Phineas offers a mild nod of his head, his lips twitching in a faint smile. "I get what you mean." He's pretty sure that Kez would be horrified over getting whatever is in THAT egg. "But it will be fine. If it happens, you will absolutely get the dragon that is right for you." He has confidence in that, at least. Cause really? You NEVER hear otherwise. "True," is added in the wake of the last. "They do seem to go pretty quickly once they get underway." Which is good.

"It's not…" but after a moment of thought, Kez simply presses his lips together and nods. "It will be fine," he agrees, even if he doesn't sound entirely convinced. "There are only six of them," he reminds, in a manner that might suggest he's counting the odds of not impressing as being in his favor, rather than against him. As for the speed of those Hatchings? Well, it prompts a perhaps natural inquiry as to the status of a certain garment. "Have you started your robe?"

Phineas grimaces, his head tossing back as he exhales a groan. "Kind of? I found one that is long enough, but I could fit six of me in it. I cut the sides but I haven't gotten round to redoing the seams, yet? I figure it can't be that hard." Or maybe it can? He doesn't know. "I'll get it done." No guarentees on quality, mind you. "You? You know I am expecting it to be something with surgical precision, right?"

A rather straight-faced look, and Kez states, "what's wrong with precise? I'm representing the Weyr and the Hall when I go out there. I can't look…" but he doesn't know what he can't look like, apparently, as he finishes it with a begrudging, "It's got to be /neat/." But the state of it is… "It's not done yet," he admits, "But it's coming along." Because perfection takes time! As for how hard, or easy, those side-seams are? "Depends on how you do them," he states, logical. "I know more about sewing people that clothes. Maybe ask Aignes? She can probably tell you the proper way to do it." So Finn can do the thing /right/.

"I'll get around to it," Finn decides with an absent wave of one hand. "Definately going to whining at Aignes for help, though. But right now? Right now, I think it's time for a nap." Cause he hasn't been lounging for this whole time, right? Whatever the case, he's twisting over to stretch out on his stomach, the balled up blanket tugged half over his body. He does, however, murmur, "Nothing wrong with precise." His? Will be a mess, but like Kez's precision, that is a given.

A nap? "Alright then," decides Kezresan, who can't help but snort and maybe even SMILE a bit! Just there, at the corner of his mouth, a little twitch that indicates some form of amusement. There and gone, and he's reaching for his book once more.