The Right Impression (1/3)
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: Corrin, Duskdog
Date Posted: 1st November 2024
Series: From Hold to Weyr
Characters: Sybana, Zaphare
Description: New to the weyr, Sybana meets Zaphare who offers a bracing new perspective on everything from other candidates, to relationships, to Impression. They make a pact for the upcoming hatching.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 3, day 8 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: Nosarre
The dining cavern was ablaze of light with the onset of evening, the hearths spilling their warm glow over the long tables. Sybana paused at the entrance, allowing herself a moment to take in the rush of noise--people talking, the clatter of dishing, a peal of laughter. She had expected something more foreign from the weyr’s dining hall, more… untamed. But in truth, it was not so different from the great halls she had known all her life. It was only the people in them that differed. She thought with a pang back to her run in with the weyrgirl in the barracks. Why had things gone so wrong? She hadn’t meant to be picking fights.
Brushing aside the lingering frustration from that earlier encounter, she squared her shoulders and stepped inside, determined to put that nasty chit with the firelizard behind her. It was later in the dinner service, so it didn't take long to get a plate loaded and then she was looking for a place to sit. There turned out to be some differences. It wasn’t like the great holds she was used to, where a woman of her standing would be guided to a seat. Here it seemed everyone simply… took what they wanted.
She would have to do the same.
Finding a relatively empty table she claimed a seat and settled in. The food, at least, was good.
It took a moment for her to realize one of her table companions was wearing the same candidate knots that she herself wore. A “peer.” She ventured a hesitant smile, “I don’t suppose you’re going to bite my head off too, are you?”
Zaphare looked up from her plate, where she had been struggling a bit to slice up her roast herdbeast with a slightly-too-dull knife, and gave the new girl a quick once-over. Unfamiliar. Candidate knots. Pretty. Smiling.
“I usually only bite when asked,” she replied, her grin sly. “Or when some arse deserves it. Don’t think I’ve known you more than five seconds, so you probably haven’t done anything to deserve it yet. First day?”
The words were rougher and verged daringly on the scandalous more than Sybana was used to, but she was grateful to find a spark of civility in this strange land. Maybe even friendship. “Yes, first day. I just moved into the barracks and I think I’ve already made an enemy. Some girl--she had a bronze flit--gave me a _lovely_ welcome.” She spoke about it lightly now, but frustration lingered below the dripping sarcasm. It had not gone how she wanted. She _liked_ to be liked. “Apparently I offended her somehow by just existing.”
The bronze flit narrowed the suspects down significantly. “Oh, _her_. Speaking of arses, right?” Zaphare snickered. “Don’t let it get to you. Most of the weyrbred are decent enough, but there’s a handful who think all us holdbred are stupid and repressed, or something. That one’s _extra_ snooty. I think her father’s some fancypants, which is funny because they all say that kind of thing isn’t supposed to matter so much at the Weyr? Anyway, what’s your name? I’m Zaphare.” She held out her hand.
Sybana shook the proffered hand glady, all hesitance melting away into a dazzling smile. “Sybana. You’re right. She said her father was the Weyrsecond. I suppose that went to her head... Honestly, I can’t tell you how glad I am to meet you,” she admitted with a soft laugh. “I was a little worried everyone would be like her.”
Last updated on the November 9th 2024
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