Who Doktah, Vossrik, Xhanfyr
What Xhanfyr meets Doktah and Vossrik
When Spring, Turn 2711
Where Candidate Barracks, Fort Weyr

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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.


Doktah did not make a big deal about her arrival in the candidate barracks. No going around introducing herself to her new fellow candidates or anything. Nope. She just slunk in when nobody was paying attention and quietly claimed an unoccupied cot. That's where she is now, lounging lazily and reading a book. It's the early evening, right about when most are probably returning from chores.

Vossrik is attempting, and failing, to fold socks. His long fingers poke the ankles around each other and then, somehow, manages to avoid getting them to do the balling thing. "Ah, ding DANGIT," he grumbles sincerely. Also "uuuuugH" and "I haaaaaaate this" and variations on that sort of theme. In time, he just starts chucking them into a drawer one at a time, making cheering sorts of noises when they reach their goal, and 'awwwww' when they do not. And "OI!" when, in a flutter of wings, a firelizard swoops in and steals one in mid-toss.

What about Xhanfyr? Why he was unceremoniously thrust into the barracks by a bluerider and left standing alone in the entryway with a small cloth satchel tossed over his shoulder. Brown eyes dart this way and that, offering a rather quick and perhaps even awkward toothy grin to anyone who glances his way before edging further in and eventually off to find himself a cot. There was a stiffness in his slender frame that spoke of his level of discomfort with his current situation and a young blond woman from a major hold walking by crinkles her nose some, muttering about 'needing a bath' doesn't help. In fact, it only serves to make the boy's shoulders tighten further as he crouches before an empty press and sets his sack of possessions down beside him in order to gingerly place each and every item neatly within. He looks at no one now, lips pursed together as Vossrik verbalies his displeasure and Dotak reads.

Too much commotion. That's going to make it difficult for Doktah to continue reading her book. She marks her page and sets it aside, sitting up and lazily looking over to the pair of boys. Her own pair of lizards crawl out from under her sheets, chirping at the passing thief. "… Are we allowed to be that loud here?" She asks. Is it a genuine question, or an attempt to be snarky?
Metan has arrived.

Both 'thrust' and 'stiff' in the same pose and we ain't even in the baths! Nice! Anyway, Vossrik, player being a HUGE DORK aside, takes the stance of a tenured brother and merely sticks his tongue out at Doktah. "Pff. There's just gonna be more of us here, Doktah. Good luck being able to read in peace. See?" And Xhanfyr is gestured at with a sock-flop. "Hey, welcome to the barracks, my dude. Don't suppose that was YOUR firelizard that made off with my sock, 'cause that can't be healthy for it." In illustration, he wiggles his bare and none-too-clean toes.

Yeah, all of this might just be too much for the apprentice beastcrafter gone candidate, because after there is firelizard sock theft and comments that may or may not have been snarky, Xhanfyr pauses and clutches the lip of his newly claimed press. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out, and just maybe when he gets back to putting what little he actually own away no one will notice the way long slim fingers shake. He very nearly misses the sock flopped greeting, folding his now empty cloth bag up and tucking it inside with everything else. He just so happened to glance Vossrik's way, confusion passing over his features. "Wh-what? No. I mean, I don't think so?" Xhan replies just as awkwardly as he had entered the barracks, eyes darting again this way and then before with brows furrowed he looks again the older boy's way. "I don't have a firelizard?" Not really something to be unsure of, but there you go. His gaze wanders quickly towards Doktah and then just as swift to the neatly arranged contents of his press, before a single moment's pause passes and he gently closes it.

'Thrust', 'stiff', /and/ 'bath'. It sure feels like baths. Doktah doesn't pick up on such things, though. She just realizes that there's something going on over by the male end of the barracks, something loud and disruptive enough to prevent her from reading her book. She snaps her fingers and her lizards scramble off her bed, probably looking for socks to steal. Doktah escapes from her covers to go investigate the fuss herself. She's already dressed for bed, wearing a long white sort of nightgown. "What's going on?" She asks, idly adjusting her glasses.

Shrugging, Vossrik makes a sorta 'buhduhnuh' sound which, likely, is 'Idunno'. Or he's speaking in tongues, but keep the exorcist on hold for the moment. "New guy. Then again, we kiiiinda all are? Anyway, I'm Vossrik, that's Doktah. She has TWO firelizards and they are SO small." Dropping the sock to meet it's fate on the floor, the Smith/candidate pushes himself to a stand. "Nice to meet you."

That concerned look doesn't exactly fade with all the sudden commotion, and now it was a QnA session. "I have no idea." he answers Doktah honestly and likely without thinking because it's followed by a wince that colors his cheeks a little bit pink afterwards. As the woman gets closer to him though, the unmistakable smell of manure and hay drifts nostril-wards, despite the boy's overall appearance of cleanliness. "Xhanfyr, or Xhan..or Xee…" That started out strong, but with each syllable it loses momentum until ended up rather mumbled. He does offer a soft, weak smile though to them both, "Thank you…you know, for the welcome." Yes, even the spectacle wearing Doktah is included in all that gratitude before Xhan pushes himself to standing using just his legs alone and makes his way around his cot in order to drop himself onto it. He mutters something under his breath, which is followed by a sigh.

"They get less small every day." Doktah tells Vossrik, as if this will be a stunning revelation. She's content enough to let her acquaintance provide the introductions for her, blinking and peering at the less familiar one of the boys. "That is a lot of names. I think I will go with Xee. It seems easiest to remember. And pronounce. Are you from Fort, Xee?"
Vossrik simply chimes in with a, "Yeah, you local?" No more. These words are filler.

Seemingly lost in a world of his own making, Xhanfyr is shaking his head to himself over there and for a second doesn't even realize that now both candidates are not only looking at him, but talking to him as well. Questions! A series of eyelash flutterings later, the apprentice beastcrafter half turns and appears lost as he looks between them. Yeah, he had no clue. Luckly it just seems to be a matter of some faulty wiring or something in his head because the observer can quite literally see when the glow basket of thought goes from dim to full brightness. "Uh, no. Keroon…I think. At least for a while enough to say Karoon. Not sure before that, mum's not very forthcoming…" he rambles, and then waves a hand dismissively. "Right. Uh, lived at Fort for a little over two…turns. Yeah. Um, two." Very informative. He wanders about in whatever haze his head contains before straightening and looking between Vossrik and Doktah, "You?"

How suspiciously vague! Doktah will have to investigate these suspicions later. For now, she accepts the information given with a shrug. "I was only posted here last month. I've spent most of my life in Igen. Some in Landing, but mostly Igen. I was a candidate there last time. I… had to leave afterwards." Bit of a frown there. She glances over to Vossrik. "Where are you from, anyways? I don't recall discussing that."

"Ummmmmmmmmm. Smith Hall, mostly? But I got posted back here about the same time she did, once stuff started thawing." Vagueness is apparently contagious as Vossrik sidesteps the question, then cocks his head at Xhanfyr. "You're a Beaster, I'm guessing? They had me herd counting earlier. Was that s'posed to be busy work to get me out of the Barracks, or should I get used to dragons swooping in and eating the things I'm counting?" He stretches, reaching high to brush his hand against a hanging lamp and send it swinging, then flumphing back on his cot. "Wait, you were a Candidate before, Dok? In IGEN? That place is murder on moving parts, I am SO sorry."

Xhanfyr tilts his head to the side as Doktah speaks, some of his overly long hair falling to partially obscure his sight, thus swept back and away from his eyes with a quick swipe of his right hand. Apparently he had nothing to ask her, despie there being a perfect opportunity to do so, there is no inquiry as to why the woman had to leave. Brown eyes shift then to Vossrik, nodding and pointing to his beastcraft knot, sitting right thre beside the simple white twist of a candidate. "Uh, I don't know honestly. I'm assigned to runners, and I've never been a candidate before so…" As the conversation shifts off of him and is reestablished between Doktah and the smithcrafter, Xhan visibly relaxes and takes a moment to just soak in his surroundings. Sure, the barracks weren't much in the way of scenery, but it was what it was. Yet another candidate, this one from Ista meanders by and pauses to crinkle his nose before hurrying off to join a group of boys deeper in. "Ugh. Fine!" he suddenly announces, and he's up! Press opened, he yanks out a change of clothing and marches himself right out the door. Well, then.


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