==== September 25, 2013
==== Kultir, Sytin
==== Scrunched over moldy tomes and parchment, one of the Candidates tries to alleviate their boredom by sharing a nightmare.

Who Kultir, Sytin
What Scrunched over moldy tomes and parchment, one of the Candidates tries to alleviate their boredom by sharing a nightmare.
When There is 1 turn 1 month and 21 days until the 12th pass.
Where Southern Weyr - Archive Library

Sytin-Young_Icon.jpg


archive_library.jpg

Archive Library
There's a skybroom tree in here. It's surprising. There is also a stage, and this room has been cleaned and tidied; it's an interesting space to be sure.


The morning sun streams in from the windows set high in the archive library, brilliantly illuminating the contents of the library and its inhabitants as they mill through in varying states of study or search. Residents come and go in search of one volume or another; some stay and read at the tables dotting the first floor, while others sign their materials out and depart. This morning finds a gaggle of Candidates hunched over writing desks and painstakingly copying musty old tomes that have had misfortunate befall them. It's relatively quiet, but there is still a steady hum of low conversation to the air.

One such unfortunate Candidate is Sytin. He's hunched in what appears to be a horrible position, quill dipping into his inkwell periodically as he neatly scratches out the writing being dictated to him by a fellow Candidate from an old and decrepit tome. Tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth occasionally as he strives for neatness on one particular passage or another, or perhaps has to think about the spelling of certain odd words, resulting in the occasional banter of questions to his dictator. Gotta get it right the first time, yes?

Kultir sighs heavily as he reads out another sentence and double checks that he got the right line. "Shards this is boring …" he mutters as he watches Sytin print out the words that he's been given by Kultir. The older boy reads through the next few lines to be sure he's got all the big words figured out and waits till the younger lad tells him he's ready for the next line or so. "Have I told you how much I hate this assignment?" he quips to the boy.

"Only about a hundred times," Sytin rejoins as he dips his quill again, gently shaking off the excess. "Try to think about it positively: we're helping to preserve history and knowledge. Be proud of that, eh?" Short neat strokes fill in the next passages as Kultir reads it to him, carefully proofing it as he goes. "Surely not all the tomes are as boring at this one, either!" he quips as he goes for more ink. "Not to mention, think of all the juicy secrets we might learn!" Really, he's trying to stretch the humor and good cheer on this one, just as sharding bored as his companion.

Kultir groans in exasperation as Sytin insists on being cheerful about this new task the Headman or his assistance or whoever has decided they needed to do it. "I'm gonna fall asleep here, Sytin ….How much longer we gotta do this?" he asks, almost whining despite his five turns of seniority on the other lad.

"Until lunch." The words fall from Sytin's mouth with a certain wryness, complete with a sly little smirk at his friend's discomfort. He secures his quill and begins dusting the parchment with drying sand to give them a momentary breather from the reading and an excuse to talk. Amber eyes shift back and forth but the other Candidates are busy with their own cramped dictation, so the youth begins in a low voice. "I… I had a pretty crazy dream about us last night." More sand is carefully spread, giving the elder a chance to show interest.

Kultir groans again and flops in his chair in a very put-upon way. "Lunch time is forever, man." he says, eyes sparkling with mischief. He sighs and sits back up and finds his place in the book while Sytin dusts the page and gets ready to write another line. Then the boy drops that bombshell and causes the older to blink. "Umm, Sy … we talked about this. I don't like you like that." he says with a bit of a frown when the younger boy mentions a crazy dream about the two of them.

"Well, much as the roll may be hard for you to swallow, Kultir, I'm not exactly having the time of my life either." Sytin chuckles a bit, blowing gently on the drying ink and sticking sand. He takes another quick glance around, their taskmaster not in evidence for the moment. His ears turn a little red as the elder gets the wrong idea. "Don't be a dimglow! I don't either." His voice is gruff with embarrassment but he clears it with a little cough. "I dreamt it was later, and… we were riders," He looks around, wondering if he's committing some capital offense. Definitely does not need Bailey breathing down his neck. Or… anywhere else, for that matter!

Kultir laughs softly at the younger boy and the way he's acting. "We were? Both of us?" he asks, ears perking up in interest. "So … what happened? Did you get a bronze? I bet mine was a blue or something, huh?" The older boy is as excited to hear the details of this dream as he is to put off getting back to the reading. He raises both eyebrows to indicate he needs more information.

Shoulders relax and Sytin actually sits up to stretch mightily, bones in his back and neck crackling as they are aligned from being stretched up and bent backwards over the chair. A little groan escapes him as pain and relief mingle and he gives himself a little shake, lips flapping to make a quirky noise. "Ooph. Anyway." He looks slyly over at Kultir. "We both Impressed bronze." A pause, then hastily: "Not that I think that's prophetic or anything!" Shifty eyes again and tongue darts out over his lips, though his expression turns a little dour. "I dreamt that Vorick came back to Southern and kidnapped Aleile."

Kultir is young enough to have the typical reaction of 'Ooooh, wow, no way!' and it shows on his face. He grins at the younger lad and shakes his head. "Course not … but … if we do though … I'm gonna call you the Prophet." he says with a laugh. He frowns at the reason behind the dream and blinks. "But … how'd he get back? But .. that just doesn't make sense…"

Sytin gently punches Kultir in the shoulder at his insistence that the boy be called Prophet should they both Impress bronze in actuality, complete with a little scowl. He sighs then as Kultir asks how his foster-da got back to Southern. "I don't know, honestly. In my dream it was the dead of night and he took her on runnerback from the Apprentice barracks. I think he drugged her, somehow." His features look drawn and eyes haunted as he dredges up the memories from the previous night's slumber.

Kultir grins at the younger boy when the kid punches him in the shoulder. Then he's listening to the boy's dream and frowns along with Sytin as he tries to figure out how the whole thing worked out. "Okay, so … we keep an eye out for him after the Hatching, right? Or … hey, we weren't flying and fighting Thread when this happened, were we?"

Tongue darts out across his lips as Sytin thinks over Kultir's suggestion. "I still do. He's crafty enough that such a thing /might/ be possible." He shudders at the idea, feeling a chill despite the warm light of Rukbat streaming in above them. "The Pass had started, but we were actually asleep when it started. I got woken up by… something, and then suddenly this bronze firelizard was blasting images into my mind of Aleile and Vorick, so I had my dragon wake yours to wake you…" Eyes go distant as he works to recall the finer details.

Kultir tries to follow the dream and is having a bit of a difficult time of it. "Wait … you got a bronze dragon /and/ a bronze firelizard? Woulda thought the dragon'd be enough." he says, pondering the younger boy's words. "Okay, so you had your dragon yell at my dragon to get me awake … then what happened?" Despite having trouble following the dream, he's still wanting more details. This is so much more interesting than reading these old records.

Hands move up in a mollifying gesture toward Kultir. "I'm not sure whose firelizard it was," Sytin explains. "It might have been Aleile's." Dreams are so apt to leave out these little details, after all. He glances up at movement out of the corner of his eye and spies their Harper taskmaster on the incoming so he picks up his quill and gestures to Kultir to start reading again. More streaks of ink appear on the parchment, forming letters and words as the next passage is read. Once the Harper moves away from them again he sticks his quill back, starting to proof. "We… We flew toward the fields. There was a storm brewing. We spotted them on runnerback, racing toward the jungle."

Kultir looks down at the tome hurriedly when Sytin indicates that the Harper overseer is heading their way and sighs with just a little bit of a dirty look at the man as he moves away again. When Sytin continues with the dream recitation though, the older boy leans forward to hear a bit better. "We caught 'em in the fields? But … there's no room for a dragon to land up there unless it's right at the top and … they'd be into the jungle before a rider could get down." he says, thinking about the terrain of where the other boy is talking about.

A quick glance is stole toward the Harper before Sytin continues. "We didn't exactly land…" A slight look of excitement creeps across his features as the images rise up in his mind. "Your crazy arse rode your dragon so low that you leapt onto Vorick from the back of your Dragon while he was riding." He looks at Kultir and attempts to seem stern and disapproving. "You were absolutely crazy!" Features crack and he can't keep the facade up long. "I at least aimed for solid, stationary ground!" He grins broadly.

Kultir blinks in astonishment when the other boy says he jumped off his dragon onto Vorick. "You gotta be kiddin' me. I jumped off my flying dragon onto a man riding a runnerbeast?" he says, leaning forward and peering around to make sure no one is watching then or over hearing. "That is crazy! I coulda broke m' neck!" He frowns and shakes his head, knowing he'd not be that stupid … would he? "You aimed … what? Please don't tell me you jumped off a flying dragon too!?" What were the riders of this clutch gonna be? Insane? Jumping off flying dragons in the middle of the night?

"I don't think you had much to lose…" Sytin trails off, glancing sidelong to the Candidates around them and keeping his voice low, gently blowing on the parchment and applying a touch more sand. "And she's my sister, of course I'll do crazy things for her!" Ah, the power of love. As the Harper looks their way the former Apprentice picks up his quill as if he's going to write, but sets it back down when the Harper's attention is diverted elsewhere. "Your momentum carried the two of you several dragonlengths away from the runnerbeast. It ran off into the jungle." He squints as he tries to bring the visuals to mind. "I had my dragon scare Aleile's runner to me so I could catch its reins."

Kultir doesn't even pretend to pay attention to the book or the Harper, his attention is riveted on the younger Candidate as he listens to this story unfold. He frowns as he listens to the part about him jumping off the dragon and his momentum carrying him and Vorick several dragon lengths away. Wait … "Ummm … I didn't have anything to loose?" he asks, puzzled. "I had a dragon … presumably I still had Kalea unless she picked someone else…" Now the kid is really confused.

"Well…" Sytin swallows, hesitating for a moment. "You and Vorick started to duel after you both got up. It started raining, too." He pauses for a moment, thinking. "I got Aleile off the runner and had my dragon take her back to the Weyr and wake a Healer, because she'd been drugged." He looks over at Kultir. "I tried to join you in your duel against Vorick, but you knocked me to the ground and had your dragon take me back to the Weyr…" He bites his lip, closing his eyes. "Kalea had… gone between at some point prior, or so your dragon told me…"

Kultir blinks at the younger boy and falls back in his chair as he stares at Sytin. Tears start in his eyes but then he shakes his head and frowns. "So …so … yeah, I wouldn't have much to loose." he says softly. "But … wait, my dragon took you back to the Weyr? That just doesn't … sound right."

Sympathy springs into Sytin's gaze as he watches his friend digest this portion of his crazy nightmare, waiting for him to collect himself. At the elder's question he sighs. "You insisted on it, actually, Mine was still at the Weyr, getting Aleile into the care of the Healers…" He looks down at the parchment, taking a breath. "You didn't want me to die. You felt I had too much to live for." Anger rises, a remnant from the dream, and causes his voice to come out in a low but harsh growl. "Don't you ever sharding dare do that to me, Kultir! I swear, I'll—" He breaks off, choking and throat convulsing as he tries to regain his composure.

Kultir blinks and stares at the younger Candidate for a moment. He glances around to see where the Harper might be and smiles slyly when he sees the man waaaay over on the other side of the archives. The elder boy reaches out and cuffs the younger lightly on the ear. "You'll do what? Tickle me?" he teases, finally remembering this is a dream and not a premonition. "An' iff'n I think ye need t' stay alive .. then ye better be adoin' it, ye young scamp!" He drops back into his accent briefly to further tease the young Smith.

The younger lad scowls as he is cuffed upside the head, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly in an attempt to control his ire. "I'm pretty sure that two against one is a statistically better chance than one on on," Sytin growls softly, and then swallows, taking another breath and trying to relaxes his features into a semblance of neutrality. "Anyway, you were fighting Vorick, and he managed to get a good slice in on your shoulder and thigh." He swallows, trying to stay as tone-neutral as he came. "I got back on my dragon, because their was no sharding way I was leaving you to die…"

Kultir sighs as he settles back in his chair again and shakes his head. "I need t' make sure I practice my bladework then, eh?" he says, still trying to tease the boy into a better frame of mind. He winces at the thought of getting hit on the shoulder and thigh … not just painful but, incapacitating if done right. "I doubt you'd have killed me off in your dream …" he comments though his voice doesn't sound too sure since the younger boy had already admitted that Kalea was dead in his dream.

"Oh, Faranth, don't even joke about it." Sytin makes a face that is rather frog-like for a moment, sighing and rolling his shoulders to try and rebalance himself emotionally. He glances for the Harper and blows a relieved sigh as he finds him still on the other side of the Archives. "You lost your sword when he sliced you, and Vorick sort of vanished into the mists. I suspect he meant to ambush you, but you used your dragon to find him and tackled him." Eyes dart for a moment, his voice lowering as he leans toward Kultir. "You were on top of him and doing your best to knock the snot out of him!"

A bark of laughter escapes before he can clap his hand to his mouth, trying to be nonchalant and look like he's still reciting to Sytin when the Harper looks up sharply to find who's laughing. He sighs softly when the Harper returns to whatever he was doing and gives Sytin a wide-eyed stare. "Like I said … gotta work on my bladework." he says softly, still chuckling at the idea that he was beating the snot out of the man who'd dislocated his shoulder so very easily. "Guess he doesn't know that riders can do that kind of thing, eh?"

Even Sytin cannot help but grin as Kultir lets out a bark of laughter, though he cringes slightly and does his best to look busy as the Harper glances their way with a sheepish grin. When the Harper ignores them again he takes a deep breath, fear and pain swimming in his gaze and causing him to stare blankly at the parchment as he tries to get the next part out. "While you were on top of him he pulled out a dagger and.. he.." Throat convulses and constricts, forcing the young man to swallow, shuddering. "He shoved it up through your belly." The words tumble out in a rush, hushed and pained.

A wave of icy dread sweeps through the older boy's body and settles as a hard knot in the region of his heart. Kultir swallows and shakes his head. "It's … only a dream, Sy." he says hoarsely. He reaches out to put his hand on the boy's arm and give him what he hopes is a reassuring smile. "Hey … ye 'ad a nightmare. See? I be fine, no holes … no blood, eh?" He shudders despite his words, more bravado than anything else since he's actually afraid something like that might happen in actuality rather than in a dream.

Sytin twitches as Kultir lays his hand on his arm and squeezes. "I know it was a dream… Still felt sharding real at the time though…" He swallows and grips the edges of his desk to steady himself. "I could see you on the ground, bleeding out as he walked away. Nearly ran into you and I ended up falling from my dragon when we banked sharply to avoid the collision." Mouth works furiously as he grits his teeth. "It left me helpless on the ground for more seconds than I care to count…"

Kultir sighs softly as the younger boy flinches at his touch and leans back to clasp the book in his hands once more. "So just means that we have to work harder so that we don't lose our blades, get stunned falling off our dragons … we'll get Vorick, no one's gonna keep us from gettin' our own back fr'm 'im." he says with a brave facade.

The youth reaches out for Kultir, squeezing the elder's knee and breathing out a deep sigh as he steadies himself. "That… sounds like a fantastic idea, actually." Sytin looks up at his friend and offers a wane smile. "I found my blade that I'd dropped on the ground when you knocked me over." His eyes shine with a sudden vicious satisfaction. "I came up behind Vorick and ran him through. Even he didn't walk away from that…" Other hand squeezes the desk tightly, feelings flitting across his features.

Kultir smiles at the younger lad and shrugs slightly as he watches the change in expression on his friend's face. He grins as the look of satisfaction is noted and a small nod tilts his head. "Ye'll get him, Sy …." he says softly. Not normally one for delayed revenge, but … he'll make an exception this time since the Weyr has already taken care of the problem … for now.

"I'd sharding well better!" Sytin huffs, and quickly takes a look for the Harper, who is currently helping another Candidate having trouble with some passage it seems. Taking a breath he turns back to Kultir and continues in a low voice. "After I left him to bleed out I ran back to you." Lower lip is momentarily bitten. "You were lying on the ground, supine…" Pupils dilate in remembered terror. "Oh, Faranth, there was so much blood…"

Kultir shifts forward to grasp the younger man's arm in a tight grip. "Hey! Sy, it was a dream." he says, concern in his eyes for the boy. "I'm here. No holes. No blood … I'm alive." He can't help the mischievous look that lights his eyes as he continues, trying to get his friend to laugh a little. "Like t' die o' boredom readin' these books f'r ye t' be copyin' though …"

A little gasp escapes him as Kultir gives him a little shake and Sytin forces a deep breath, shaking his head to try and clear it a bit, emotions running thickly through him. He does let out a little chuckle at his friend's jest, though it sounds a little forced. "I tried to get you to a Healer, to stay with me." He looks up at the elder and meets his amber gaze with his own, shining intensely. "You grabbed my shoulder and told me…" He pauses, pursing his lips. "You told me 'home is where the heart it'." A breath, slow and steadying. "I watched the light go from your eyes and heard all the dragons keen as yours went between." He shudders at the memory, dream or no. "I woke up then."

Kultir settles back into his chair once more and frowns as he thinks about the words Sy says that Kultir had said in the dream and then shrugs. "Dunno what that's supposed to mean … 'cept maybe that since Kalea apparently wasn't alive no more than I'd rather be dead?" he says with a bit of a question in his tone. He knows what the real answer is but no one else needs to. He too shudders at the thought of watching the light leave someone's eyes and looks a little green at the thought. He nods and sighs softly, "Guess that was a good place to wake up …"

"I dunno," Sytin admits, taking several deep breaths to regain a modicum of composure. "I couldn't get to sleep for a while after that. I'm honestly not sure when I finally dropped off again." He leans back and forces himself to stretch again, taking the chance to find the Harper and also noting the shift of light coming from the windows. Slouching forward again he offers his friend a smile. "I think it's almost lunchtime." Look, positive notes!

Kultir glances up and notes the shaft of light filtering through the hole and nods, grinning like an idiot. "That means we can go eat and then I have woodlot duty after lunch." he says with an inquiring eyebrow quirking up at the younger boy. He closes the book and sets it carefully on the table as he catches the attention of the Harper and motions that he and Sytin were going to eat and gets an affirmative nod in returns. "Come on … I'm starved." But then, the teen is always hungry … and growing like a weed.

"I might get to join you," Sytin thinks. "I'll have to double check." When the Harper motions them out the boy doesn't need a second telling, quickly securing the parchment, ink and quill on the table for the next pair to follow them. A grin replaces the earlier dour look, eager to fill his stomach. "Say, do you suppose the guards could teach us to fence?" he asks as the two of them make their way out and scurry to off to the living caverns.

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