Ista Weyr - Hatching Galleries
A tiered series of bleachers, their surfaces worn smooth from centuries' worth of use, with stairways on either side for access. There is a broad railing carved from stone to prevent onlookers from falling down. During a Hatching, thick and comfortable pillows in the Weyr's colors of black and orange are brought out to cushion the hard seating, and drudges come and go to bring refreshments to the spectators. A walkway at the top and back of the gallery continues through a tunnel to the west. A brilliant, vividly colored mural is painted across the walls.
Rukbat hangs over Ista Island like a golden bauble, suspended in a sea of azure that's cloudless as far as the eye can see. Nearly mid-day, it's quiet outside, most residents wise enough to seek shelter, even during the Istan winter. Not all residents seek shelter in cool places, however, and one such individual appears to be a sandy-haired lad, clearly growing too quickly for his body to fill out, he might almost appear scrawny if not for the clothes that actually /fit/ for a change. Nornon lounges near the front of the galleries, where he can sprawl his long legs out without bumping the seats in front of him. It appears that he's taking his lunch break away from the cavern's crowds, for he is munching a sandwich of cold wherry breast salad, a skin of something cool beside him. Several others lurk here and there among the stands, but for now, the Candidate is alone.
In from the relative cool comes Shorynia. She's added a jacket to her usual ensemble. Well, maybe not completely usual. The years worn yellow ribbon is gone, her long black hair now held in control by a simple band of leather. She, too, carries a small luncheon, though in her case the bovine and wherry mystery meat sandwich is accompanied by a tall thermos of fresh klah. She settles onto the bench beside Nor without any introduction, her eyes never leaving the eggs. She takes in a slow breath, then lets it out with a sigh.
Amber eyes roam to Shorynia, the younger's sister needing neither introduction nor permission to plop down beside Nornon. His mouth is full of cress when she does so, however, so there is a long moment of silence as the Beastcrafter Candidate masticatesthe bite as quickly as he can — he's a growing lad with a big appetite and similarly big bites, so this takes a few — and swallows with an audible 'ulp!' before he leans toward her, sandwich lowering. "What's on your mind?" is the hushed inquiry, simple and to the point.
Shorynia carefully unscrews the cap of the klah-thermos and takes a slow drink while Nor works on clearing his mouth. The lid is returned with equal care, her eyes never leaving the sands. "The usual. What more might you expect?" There's an almost sad edge to her voice and then she asks the question that's been on her mind for a few months now, "Nor… who /am/ I?"
Now /that's/ a queston Nornon clearly wasn't expecting. He leans back, not as a recoil, but to give himself a moment to think. He uncaps the skin and takes a pull, rolling the fluid around his tongue contemplatively. He swallows and props himself, leaning forward, elbow on knee. He breathes a low, long sigh before answering her question with another question. "Well, whose definition of you did you want?" He glances sidelong at her between his unruly locks. "You're a lot of things to a lot of people."
Shorynia repeats the careful uncap, drink, re-cap motion with the klah while he thinks. She turns to glance at him when he answers the unanswerable question with another question. She's equally slow in contemplating her response, making him wait while she chews through a bite of her sandwich, then takes another drink of klah. Finally, she does actually speak, albeit softly, "Shards, I don't know. Yours, maybe? I've just… I've come to the realization that I've spent most of my life defining myself by other people's labels and I've no clue who I actually /am/." She glances back out at the eggs, "Pernicious little buggers, aren't they? Once they start you thinking you just can't get them out."
Nornon is a bit faster to respond this time, though he also digs into his sandwich while Shory contemplates her response. Hunger won't wait, after all! Swallowing, he responds in a slowly spoken way. "If I gave you my definition of you, then wouldn't that put you in the same boat you're in now?" A pause for juice, wetting the pallate for a chance to mull. "I think that the only person who can really, honestly definite you is, well, you." He offers her an apologetic smile. "But maybe the first question you should ask yourself is what kind of person do you /want/ to be?"
Shorynia sighs gently, eyeing her sandwich as if it has done something to offend her, "You're right…" She takes a bite of the sandwich anyway, chewing it slowly and thoughtfully. She swallows, then, "How'd you get so smart? It certainly wasn't my influence. I was too busy doing other things." There's no disparagement in her tone. It's just a fact. She was a teenage girl. "and if it was, I'd've figured it out for myself by now." One hand strays out towards the sands, then retreats back with a slight shake of her head, "I think… I think for now all I can do is try to be myself and see what happens."
"I dunno," Nornon responds matter-of-factly to Shorynia's query about his intelligence with a shrug. "I suppose I just have a lot of time to think when I'm working with the animals." It's as good a theory as any. He pauses to listen to her again, taking the opportunity to eat more of his lunch. Alas, breaks are such limited things. "How can you try and be /you/ without defining it first?" He shifts again, running his fingers through his hair, though it promptly returns to unruly as his hand slaps his knee heavily. "Have you tried writing down the things you like or like about you?" He looks to his sibling with sharp eyes. "Have you even asked yourself what you want out of life?"
Shorynia snorts gently, taking another slow sip of the klah, "I stopped asking myself that when Chani was born. It seemed… pointless, I guess. I want my Grade 5 some day. And shards, I don't think there's been a time since I came to the Weyr that I didn't want all of this…" She motions broadly, the stands, the sands, the eggs, the walls. Indistinct, but at the same time definitive. "I don't think I can define myself until I see what I do."
"You don't suppose that's unfair to Chanian, then? Please don't think I'm berating you" hand slides to her leg to gently squeeze "because I love you and I just want to help you be you. But," he pauses for breath momentarily, "I think that it's not right for you to cease pursuing your dreams because of your son, and that it's unfair to him because all he has left is a mother who is miserable because she gave up her dreams to be a 'mother'. I'm pretty sure nobody's happy then." Another pause for breath and he listens to her broad statement about Candidacy and the chance for a lifelong partner. "We all want to be loved for who we are, but what if a Dragon can't decide whether you're meant for them because your identity if unclear?" It's a weighty question. "Are you sure you can just wait and see?"
Shorynia looks for a moment as if she might yell at him, or cry, but she takes another breath, letting him finish, "It's not just that. I never really /had/ dreams, either. Not concrete ones that I could personally go after, anyway. I can't just… turn a dial and be certain." Her eyes stray back to the eggs, "Maybe they like undefined people better?" There's a hopeful lilt to her voice before she takes another bite of sandwich, then frowns again, "I'm not saying I'm not trying to find out. I'm saying I don't want to just try to shove myself into another mold."
Another squeeze and Nornon sighs softly, looking at his sister with sympathetic understanding. "When the quake happened, I lost all the things that I thought identified me and made me who I was. My parents, my family, my home, my life." He pauses, swallowing hard. A deep breath and he continues. "But when my life turned upside down I was forced to examine /me/ and find out who I was outside of those connections, those life landmarks, if you want." He licks his lips and takes a swig of his skin — talking's thirsty work! — and then resumes in his measured baritone. "In the end, for me, I found that I still loved runners and wanted them in my life. Then I found you and knew that I wanted to keep you in my life for as long as I could. Then," he gestures broadly in a sweep with his free hand to indicate the same experience as Shory had earlier, "I was Searched and discovered that I might have the same passion for Dragons as I do runners, so I guess that gives us something else to share." He stops for a moment and gazes at her levely. "Life and who we are is always now. We're always changing, always moving. Really, we're all full of vague notions and temporary ideas, but I know that I want to lead as full and fullfilled a life as I can, and I know that I can only do that pursuing my passions and striving to always be the person that makes me the happiest." His hand shifts to her shoulder from her leg and he offers her a crooked smile. "And the people that love me support me in those exact pursuits, whatever they may be." He chuckles a bit, momentarily self conscious of his lengthy speech, but resumes. "And Sho, I want you to be the person that makes /you/ happiest, and know that it will make me happy too, whether that's a vague notion, a commited idea, or anything in the middle. Just do what makes you happy." There, he finally summerizes his longwinded explanation with his usually concise way, and then he waits, silent again.
Shorynia just blinks a few times as her brother goes on and on. It's highly doubtful she actually processed that whole speech. She turns her head slowly back to the eggs, "I chose dragonhealing so I could keep working with dragons no matter what. But those… babies down there, they taunt me time and again. So close and yet so far. I can strive to be everything some rider tells me makes a good rider, and I could still be sitting here once they've hatched. I never want to leave the Weyr. But as happy as I am with my son and my craft and my friends and family, there's so much wrapped up down there. And it was easier to watch them go before I'd touched the eggs. Now it's in me in a whole different way." She glances back at her brother, finally removing the rivetted look from those shells, "But you understand that." She eyes the sandwich again, then takes another slow bite to force herself to step back and think, "I love dragons. And I love helping people when I can. Can who I am really be that… simple?"
Listening to his sister seems to be the perfect time to polish off the remainder of his sandwhich, which he does with typical teenager vigor. He does clear his mouth just in time to nod and acknowledge that shared bond with the eggs and the longing. "I do." It's succinct, back to the more familiar. "And you could, but then again, so could I." He shrugs, as if to say "I'm okay with that" and then glances out to the sands and back. "The most complex structure begins with but a single stone." A smile, meant to reassure. "Simple things give us a foundation to build on." And with that he takes a long swig of his skin, polishing the contents off.
Shorynia nods softly, going through the motions to get another drink of the still-warm klah, "It's a start, then." Her eyes stray, like most people's, back to the sands, "Which one was it you liked, again?" Not that she can make it do, well, anything. But a sister still wants to know these things.
Nornon nods in agreement with his sibling before looking out over the sands to seek out the egg that most interested him, though the fiery shell hides remarkably well in the sooty sands. "The rather volcanic one." He gestures abstractly. "It… challenged me." In what way the Beastcrafted was challenged goes unsaid as he rises, cleaning up his luncheon mess. "But I'm afraid we'll have to talk about it tonight." He turns around to face her with a warm smile. "I'm afraid I need to get back to my duties, as do you, no doubt." He gestures to the now mostly empty stands with a jerk of his head. "But, think on it and if we're not bushed beyond sense, we'll talk." And with that, a grin, and a wink the brother turns and skeedadles before a Weyrlingmaster finds them.
Shorynia's eyes track where he indicates, but she's still not certain what she's seeing. "Well. If it calls, it calls. The one that challenged me made it pretty plain that I was the broken one." She stands carefully, slipping the last of the sandwich into a small storage bag, "You're probably right. I've been trying to keep up with my dragonhealing and not fall too far behind." She does a quick accounting of her stuff, then nods, "Okay, I've got it all. I'll talk to you tonight, Nor. It's about time we candidates talked eggs."
