==== September 20, 2013
==== Nathanael, Sytin
==== After a long day of chores and PE, a candidate wanders out to the docks to visit his best friend.

Docks
In dark morn and dusky eve fog lies grim and humid against the still waters of Azov Sea. Only the noontime sun burns away the concealing clouds of man's height, revealing that which lies beneath the mist- an awe-inspiring stone pier that stretches far into the inland sea, to the east of the line of orderly boat-slips for the locals and larger, open spaces for transport ships. Fishermen are often as common as seagulls upon the pier's length in particular, ill-concealed and ill-clothed in the loose dun homespun of Southern's natives.

Many ships have found their way to the dock, with only a few still hanging out as the sun reaches the end of the day. One little apprentice is tying off his own little ship, father up the dock a bit with a group of fishermen talking about the day. Nathanael tugs at the knots, checking their sureness before bending down to begin to gather piles of netting that are laid upon the ground.

From the Weyr and from the Bowl, bronze and brown and— Oh, wait, wrong ballad! A being approaches the docks, but it certainly isn't lumbering enough to be a dragon. In fact, it's a rather scrawny youth clad in simple, if oversized garments and carting a pail with him. A small blue flit circles overhead, doing an aerial dance through the salty air before the Candidate. "Zhiros, you're such a clown!" Sytin beams fondly at the blue as he somehow finds the energy to put a bounce in his step and finally comes across just the Seacrafter he's looking for. "Hey stranger!"

On the side of the ship and older, though only by a few months, bronze CHIRPS at the little blue that has invaded his area. Thanael looks up at the voice and tries to wave, managing to drop half of his load of netting in the process. He scrambles to get his arms around it, "'ey Sytin! How've 'e been? Ain't no dragon ate 'e yet?"

Zhiros trills to the bronze, looping and finally coming to land on some coiled rope, chirring with mental flashes of the sea and also someplace dark and warm. Meanwhile, Sytin is busy with his best friend, offering him a grin as shock and surprise take Nathanael. "Nah, I haven't gotten eaten by a dragon yet. Ninurtath may have threatened, but that's all." He spreads his arms out horizontally. "See? All here!" He turns about to demonstrate his flesh as whole and hale. "Now, come hatching day…" He trails off dramatically with a laugh. "Well, let's just say I'm prepared to be agile!" He finds a place to perch and plunks down in a tangle of limbs that keep outgrowing their pilot, setting the pail down. "How's the sea been treating you?" His amber gaze levels with his fellow Apprentice.

"'e'll've to be quick or impressive on that day!" Nathanael grins cheekily up at his friend, gathering the mass of netting up in his arms, almost disappearing behind its lengths. "'s been beaut' Syt, 'nary a cloud or wind 't shake 's round. 've 'e been able to enjoy it none?"

The boy is quick to sport a grin for his best friend. "Oh, sure! Ja'kai's been making us to tons of exercises in the bowl." If it's put any muscle on Sytin it surely doesn't show, however. Probably because he's gotten just a little bit taller. "And of course, after supper, before curfew." Or, sometimes, quietly, after curfew. "Hopefully that means the fish have been biting!" He makes exaggerated motions with his teeth, clacking them together before laughing. "Most of the other Candidates are a lot older than me," he admits with sudden sobriety. "I find myself actually wishing for more duties out here, just so I can see ya." He idly picks up a bit of driftwood, tracing random designs into the sand.

Nathanael casts a glance back at the men who are talking, his father in their midst. He has a thoughtful look on his face. "Well, 'e headman 's still makin' 's make 'm bricks in 'e afternoon when we dock a'fore 'e evenin' run, 'en though 'e got that wall what was cracked fixed. Mayhap 'e could ask 'im if'n 'e could still help? Since 'e was a smithcrafter before 'n all?"

Sytin nods thoughtfully, letting out a "hrm" sound as he continues tracing, cogs whirring noisily upstairs. "It could work. I've heard of some Candidates trading chores. Surely I could try." He looks over at the Seacrafter and grins. "I'm surprised I've not been asked to do it more, but I suspect it's because the Harpers accost us in the afternoon for lessons." Stick taps the ground and Zhiros hops over, prowling curiously. "Maybe you could find some excuses to come to the Weyr yourself?" Head tilts as he glances towards the sandy-haired boy.

Nathanael wrinkles his nose. "'e have 'e Harper's bothin' 'e to lesson? What've 'e gotta learn what 'e basic teachin's didn teach 'e?" Nathanael says this, but his voice is lower, and he shoots a look behind him… just in case his father looks. "mm… mayhap it'll storm, 'n I can come up more. Pa says I 'ould 'elp if'n 'e canno' be out on 'e water."

"I dunno," Sytin admits. "Seems like they want riders to know more about stuff than the average resident." He shrugs a bit. "I guess they figure we're supposed to be these lofty figures." Did he just say we? All those Weyrfolk must be rubbing off onto him. "Wish you coulda been there when I got shoved into the barracks. The other Candidates wanted to know who Searched me. 'bout flipped a lid when I told them Th'seus." He snorts. "Kind of silly, really. It doesn't matter who Searches you out from what the Harpers say, just that if you are ya got some kind of potential." Clearly 'Thanael's accent is rubbing off while the Smith and Seacrafter converse. "Besides, it got me out of scrubbing the forge." Ah, the real reason he said yes to that white knot!

Nathanael doesn't miss the "we", but a small shrug from his shoulders has it rolling off his back quickly enough. "Get 'e net in 'e bot Thanael!" The voice of Nathanael's father rings out and the apprentice looks slightly guilty as he starts to push the net onto the boat. "'r 'e keepin 'e mouth shut what with all of 'em bein' older? I'm bettin some of 'em canidates wouldn' mind pickin on someone what is as young as 'e are."

A look of guilt crosses Sytin's face as Nathanael's father admonishes him to complete his work. "Sorry," he winces. "Didn't mean to get you in trouble." The feeling is enough to disrupt his momentary linguistic empathy. At the question about keeping his mouth shut the boy grins wryly. "'Thanael," he begins dryly. "Have you ever known me to pass down an opportunity like that?" No, he thought not. Uncovering his bail he reveals a waterskin and some snackable goodies, like fresh fruit and meatrolls. "Hungry?" he offers. A certain blue lizard certain is and hops up on the edge, chirring hopefully and half spreading his wings for balance.

His response gets only a groan from the oh-so-responsible Seacrafter. "SYTIN." The rest of the net is pushed into the boat finally, and Nathanael looks back to his father. "I'ma be righ' back Pa, 's Sytin!" Dorrono waves at his son, tacit permission given. "I'ma always hungry! 'n Pa dun like to bring what goes bad out on 'e water so 's only dried meat 'n crackers 'n water."

The Candidate blinks with wide eyes at the Seacrafter. "Whaaaaat?" he asks with dutiful innocence. A surprisingly polite amount of room is given to Nathanael as he seeks permission from his father to linger around. And then a broad grin. "Well, help yourself!" He takes a meatroll and splits it open, offering half to the perching blue who promptly takes it and start pecking the filling out while holding the outer shell in his front claws. It might just be the most adorable thing ever. Sytin grimaces at the idea of only eating jerky, saltines and water. "That sounds… varied." Insert sarcasm here. "Surely at least some pickled vegetables?"

Nathanael plops down next to his friend, grabbing a roll to begin eating. It's almost like the boy hasn't seen food in ages the way he tears into it. "'ope! sometimes I get some redfruits smuggled 'board." The meat roll disappears quickly. Out of a sea worn pocket is pullet a water flask which Nathanael drinks from then offers to his friend.

"That's just…. criminal!" Really the boy has no better words to describe the lack of decent eating aboard a ship. "No wonder you're short!" It's really not a jab at the boy, just poorly positioned observation. "They don't feed you good food and it stunts your growth!" Seems legitimate enough. Zhiros meanwhile is unfazed by the conversation around him, the filling of his meatroll gone he now starts in on the dough because, well because it's there. The Smith finishes his half and reaches for an orangefruit, starting to peel the shiny skin away. "At least Vorick fed me decently growing up." This is really more a comment on the Seacrafter lifestyle than Dorrono, however. There is not a whit of malice in the boy's eyes as he talks either.

Again Nathanael wrinkles his nose. An orangefruit of his own is claimed and he pelts Sytin with the peel as revenge. "'e eat fine 'nough when 'e get back 't shore. Jus' 'ile on 'e water."

"Ow! Hey!" Sytin tries to duck the chucked rind to no avail, ending up covered in bits of organic matter. "A'ight, sorry I said you were short!" He means it, even. Duly chastised he brushes off the debris and starts pulling sections of the fruit apart, popping juicy bits into his mouth. It dribbles a little bit down the corners of his mouth, but clearly he's enjoying it. Tongue darts out and licks it away with a low chuckle. "How long are you stuck out in the water?" That seems the next most logical question. Zhiros, meanwhile, has started rummaging through the pail on his own for more tasty morsels.

Revenge sufficiently achieved, Nathanael pops the fruit onto his mouth. "'e depends on if'n 'e fish are runnin'. 'n if 'e weather is lookin good." Little bits of orange stick to his fingers and he licks them clean, apparently not caring a wit for the fact his hands totally still smell like fish from their last run. "Usual' Pa has 's eatin' somethin' early 'n then what 'er we can get." The bronze on the side of the ship CHIRPS at the little blue again, taking the short flight from ship to chastise the blue for getting greedy. "Trib, 'leave 'em 'lone!"

"Do you get stuck out there for weeks?" Sytin asks around a mouthful of orange. He slurps a bit, sucking the errand juices back in. His own fingers get a licking while he waits for an answer, not in the least bit Piscine. Zhiros' tail twitches, startled as the bronze admonishes him. He rotates, head popping up to peer with large and innocent eyes. Who, me? Meanwhile a meatroll has been lizardhandled and is clung to doggedly, the blue hopping up on the edge and nearly topping the pail as balance is lost. Fortunately the Smith has some quick reflexes and catches the edge, steadying it with a chortle.

Tribute chitters again disapprovingly at the small blue, a lecture worthy of a young bronze who thinks himself SO SPECIAL. Nathanael tosses a bit of orangefruit goo at the bronze, the bit landing far enough away from the creature. "Not unless one 'a 'e other cap'ns wants Pa t' go with 'em. Our jetty," Nathanael nods to the nearby fishing ship, "'s jus' t' small t' be out o'r night. 'n if'n 's jus' us…" Nathanael shrugs again.

Finishing his orangefruit, Sytin sits back and purses his lips thoughtfully. The expression is ruined as he realizes he still has juice on them and promptly glides his tongue in a bit loop-de-loop to fix that! Yum! "How many people fit on your boat?" He peers at the boat that Nathanael was filling with net. "Is that it?" Arm raises and points demonstratively. Zhiros meanwhile isn't going to take the bronze's bullying and puffs himself up, wings spreading and doing his best to look big and menacing. The meatroll isn't really helping his case though, seeing as it's still almost a quarter of his size. Still, he tries and it's cute.

The bronze firelizard clearly does not care about cute as he hisses at the impertinent little blue. "Trib, STOP 't." Nathanael stands to scoop the bronze up. "Yup! 's our jetty, Pa 'n I came down 'er on it, but 't was 's last long voyage. 'es jus' a fisihin boat now." There is obvious love in this voice for the ship though. The talking Journeyman have broken up and Dorrono steps next to Nathanael, clapping him on the shoulder. "Well, 's time for us to be headin' back, dawn'll be creepin' slow enough. Candidate." The journeyman nods to Sytin once. "'ll see 'e later, if'n i' storms I'll try t' get some chores w' 'e!" Nathanael whispers this to Sytin before he's following in his father's wake back up the docks towards the Sea Crafter building.

The Seacrafter isn't the only one scooping up their firelizard, as Sytin also rights himself and reaches down to pick up the displaying hatchling, cradling him close. He does examine the jetty as the boy explains it to him, nodding. "Hope you didn't have any rough seas. Looks like she'd be a tough lady to ride through one." Absently the blue hide is stroked and then Nathanael's father is there and getting a respectful half bow. "Journeyman." Lowest of the low and all. The Apprentice's fervent whisper draws a grin from the Smith, along with a nod. "You better!" is the terse reply before he also head back, the night closing in about the pier like a mother swaddling an infant. Rukbat's last rays burst in colorful light and then blissful darkness creeps along the sky, slowly revealing its gemmed brilliance to those last stragglers who look as night envelops the Weyr…