==== October 5, 2013
==== Kalea, Kultir, Sytin
==== Out for an evening stroll in the fields for some much needed fresh air, a couple of Candidates encounter a familiar greenrider…

Fields
Terraced over the rolling mountains of Southern's wilds, crops fight against the encroaching jungle that must be held at bay by diligent farmers. Guards are stationed at intervals across the hills, where the trees growth is thick enough to allow the lurking predator to hide. It's not Thread that threatens the luscious crops that cling to the side of the mountain, it's the felines and wherries larger than life that would partake of the feast that awaits the courageous. Each terrace lays claim to a large swathe of arable land; the fields themselves cover a vast portion of the hilly slopes. To cross the fields, from one end to the other, without runner or wagon, would take several candlemarks.

Late evening finds the fields bathed in the waning rays of Rukbat. The sky overhead is a rich turquoise, the eastern edges starting to darken into cobalt as the orb sinks slowly in the west, filling that corner of the firmament with lush rouge and aeneous hues, bleeding into the scattered cloud cover like a blaze of fire. Here and there farmers dot the lush fields below, tending to the crops in varying stages of growth and harvest. Guards patrol the lanes, on the lookout for trouble, whether bestial or human in variety. The air itself hangs warm and heavy, filled with the aromas of fruit bearing trees and rich grains, and just the faintest note of fertilizer. The sound of insects has started to kick in as evening truly winds into full swing, and on the whole it is an atmosphere of tranquility and production.

Kultir heaves a somewhat contented sigh as he strolls along one of the paths through the fields with his friend. Sometimes, it seems, that very early morning and late evening are the only times of day that he can really enjoy himself and just relax. His days are just so frenetic that about supper, he's just left gasping. He's been stuck at indoor chores for the past few days so his skin is itching for the freedom of the fields. "It's nice to finally get out of the Weyr for a moment or two, Sy." he says, stepping off the path in a small area that is just soft grass and settling down to relax. "I been going stir crazy, I tell ye." He glances up at his friend and then out to the lovely colors of the sunset.

Kalea feels the need to be away from the Weyr for a little while. It's been a long and hectic day for her, so the idea of a quiet walk really hits the spot. She's tried the crowd thing and it just didn't do it for her. Not with the mood she's in tonight it seems. Though the excitement from earlier still lingers and she finds herself smiling at nothing much of anything. One hand rests on her belly and the other twirls the ring strung about her neck on a thin piece of cable. The sound of a voice draws her eyes slightly downhill and away from the edge of the tree line where she treks. In the dusk though the two figures take a moment to register. The timbre of that voice does click though and she changes her direction to intercept them.

Fortunately for Sytin, he still has that irrepressible vigor of youth to bolster him through the trying times of Candidacy. This leaves a relative bounce in his step as he shuffles, sometimes getting ahead of the other Candidate, but mostly staying alongside his self-adopted sibling. Fingers lace behind his head and he stares up at the sky as he contemplates things and then Kultir's conversation intrudes on his momentary lapse in concentration. "You're telling me!" he quips, still watching the clouds as a flock of avians zips by, calling loudly to one another as they pass overhead. "I've been stuck doing stuff like laundry, stocking the baths, peeling vegetables I swear I can dice tubers in my sleep now!" He laughs, taking it with some measure of lightheartedness.

Kultir laughs along with his pseudo-sib and inclines his head in understanding. "Aye … how many days did I have latrine?" he asks sarcastically. "I didn't think I'd done anything t' get into trouble but … seems like I'd been put on latrine every bloody day last seven." Even though it'd only been three or four, it still irked him that they'd not varied his task like they normally did. "Ah well. I think I got either wood cutting or stableduty tomorrow so I'll get out of the caverns and see the sky tomorrow at least." Another sigh inflates his chest before being blown out in a gusty huff. "I jes wish …" he trails off with a shrug and a shake of his head.

Kalea is close enough to the pair of candidates now to catch the tail end of what Sytin is saying. And the idea of dicing tubers makes her shudder. Anything to /do/ with the kitchens makes her shudder these days. She's out here because if she'd had to wash one more pan she'd have thrown it at the wall. Hormones? Most likely the culprit of such intense dislike for that particular chore. Finally she manages to get close enough to them to speak without yelling. "Evening boys." She slips a bit of cheerfulness into her voice. Despite the fact that she's been waiting a while to speak to Kultir on a subject that has her irked worse than the dishes in the kitchens.

"Faranth, too many. I'd swear that the smell was never gonna come out!" Sytin teases the elder Candidate with an easy sort of camaraderie. "Honestly, I'd rather cut wood, or do some more work in the fields or jungle than be cooped up inside those walls another day." That might change once the Pass starts, but for now the boy wants nothing more than fresh air and endless exploration. He turns to his friend as he trails off, stopping. "What—" The prompt is cut off as the greenrider approaches, finally greeting them. The former Apprentice promptly about faces to offer her a broad grin. "Hi, Kalea! How are you tonight?" He seems happy to see her, even if she may not return the sentiment.

Kultir snorts and nods at Sytin. "You're telling me." At the greeting, he smiles as he looks up at the greenrider who has greeted them and gestures to the grass. "Evenin', Kalea. Have a seat?" he offers as genially as ever. After that gesture, he returns his arm to where it rests on his upraised knee and clasps his hands again. "What you been up to? Haven't see you for a while …" His tone being one that implies he'd expected to have seen her once in a while at the very least. He and his fellow Candidate pretty much covering all the possible questions that can be asked on first meeting without repeating too!

Kalea is happy enough to see Sytin at least. And Kultir as well to be honest. She's just a little confused and upset with him at the moment. "Hey Sytin," she returns the lad's greeting with a smile. "Good to see you again without your bedclothes plastered to you." She chuckles a bit at the memory of that. "Evening Kultir," she smiles and lowers herself to the grass where she can sit and see both of them easily and not feel like she's going to roll backward down the hill. "I've been doing the usual. Though the shifts dying ropes were extended a bit." She curls her legs up beneath her with a tired sigh. "I haven't see you around either," she tells Kultir with a raised brow. "Though I hear you've seen plenty of T'lvier.." Yep there's that miffed tone the teen knows so well.

Deciding to cease his restless pacing around the seated Candidate, Sytin also opts to sit, joining the two of them on the grass. His rump is on the ground, feet flat, legs half drawn in and arms wrapped loosely around the knees, leaning forward slightly. "I wouldn't mind dying ropes." It sounds fun on principle to the boy. After all, dye can make for all kinds of crazy mischief when you're twelve. A breeze rolls around them, whispering through the crops and carrying the heady fragrance of the nearby orchard. "T'lvier?" Curiosity piques at the mention of the rider, a glance thrown at Kultir. "Isn't he the one I said I'd annoy if I Impress?" Eyebrow quirk.

Uhoh. Miffed greenrider. Kultir does recognize that tone quite well since it's been directed at himself before. This isn't good. The boy frowns and wracks his brain as to what she could have heard that would make her that upset with him. "I … uh, I haven't seen T'lvier for … a sevenday at least. Last time I had stableduty and had t' feed the beasts out in the pens." he says, perplexed as to why she'd think he'd seen a lot of the brownrider. "Before that … hadn't seen him for a few sevendays at least." The boy glances sideways at the younger boy and nods with a grin. "Yeah … that's him."

Kalea glances at Sytin and chuckles softly. "It's not near as fun as it sounds. If you're not careful you end up wearing the dye all over." Trust her. Before she got the hang of it she'd done that very thing. When he mentions annoying T'lvier her eyebrows pop up and she looks at Kultir. The question is unspoken but clearly written in her features. Why would this innocent child want to poke a man like T'lvier? "I just have to ask you one thing," she tells Kultir with a sigh. "Why did you go and tell him about the journals?" They belonged to her family and she'll be highly upset if the Weyr claims them. "You know how special those memories are to me.." And so she doesn't get why he'd ante up her family's heirlooms like T'lvier had informed her that the candidate had.

For a bit it looks like Sytin might be about to suggest something boyish and prankster, but then he sees just how somber Kalea is about the man and it sobers him, making him fall quiet as he listens to her question to Kultir. Features scrunch up in puzzlement. "Why would the Weyr want you journals? Didn't some of them come forward from the old time, anyway?" Maybe he's just too young or ignorant of Threadfall to get it, but something doesn't quite jive for the youth right now and he's determined to put his finger on it. "Or they could just have you do a report on any important bits?" Trust this kid to try and come up with an idea to rescue this damsel in distress.

Wait. What? Ooooohhhhh … now he knows what she's upset about. Kultir groans and drops his head as he realizes that his big mouth had gotten him into trouble yet again. After a moment, he lifts his head and sighs softly. "Yeah … I mentioned 'em to him." he says, a defeated tone to his voice. "He made me so mad, Kalea. Callin' you a coward and such." He doesn't mention the intimation that she was some kind of … whore of the Weyr. Blood fills his face as his anger at the brownrider's words rises once more. "He was all whining that he'd lose his knot if he did anything except belittle you. Like they'd take his wingknot just cuz he encourages and defends you for keeping the baby." His voice is tight and he has to trail off or he's going to get himself into even more trouble … mouthing off to a dragonrider, and all that.

Kalea chuckles and shakes her head at Sytin. "I'm afraid they'd want to take them and read them. Then I'd probably never get them back. Or worse they'd end up destroyed or lost somehow. They won't mean as much to others as they do to me." After all those are her Uncle and Mother's words. Among other members of a family so long in the past all she has left are a few bits of memorabilia. "And I've written reports about what I know. I just didn't list /how/ I got the information." She hadn't admitted to having the written word. "Sweetheart a lot of them call me names." She shrugs her shoulders in resignation. "It's just the way things /are/ in this time." Trust her she hadn't exactly expected it to be /this/ bad herself. Sure it was a little strained in her time, but nothing so bad as what she's gotten here. "If he chooses to fit in with the others then that's his mistake." And hers for even asking the tunnelsnake to claim her child.

The boy deflates a little as Kalea says she's already tried some of those things. "Oh." Sytin's limbs shift as he shuffles uncomfortably, a frown etched on his features as he wracks his brain for more ideas. Then Kultir's tale seems to soak into his eardrums. "What?" He pipes up, eyes narrowing. "Kalea's one of the bravest people I know!" This might have something to do with his small circle or that she's a dragonrider, but he clearly believes it. Fist smacks his knee fervently. "I have got to Impress a sharding bronze so I can mess with this worthless tunnelsnake's hide!" Not like he has ANY control over it, but hey, kid can dream, right?

The look on Kultir's face would have him on latrine duty for the rest of Candidacy if anyone else but Sytin and Kalea saw it. And if it didn't, then his words certainly would. "I swear … I get rid of this fancy white knot and T'lvier and I are gonna have it out, one way or another." he growls. Amber eyes flash with a desire to beat the brownrider bloody at the very least to teach him the error of his ways. His gaze lifts to Kalea's face as he clamps down iron control once more. "It's bloody stupid, Kalea! There's no reason you and the other female riders should have to forget about havin' kids just cuz ye'r dragonriders." he grumbles. "Sure Threads comin' but … they need enough kids t' put on the Sands too. Where they think they're gonna get 'em iff'n you riders don't breed 'em, eh?" He really doesn't think too many of the holders and smallcrafters are going to give up their kids once Thread starts falling. He glances at his friend and actually laughs.

Kalea can't help but laugh at Sytin's enthusiasm if nothing else. "Do please avoid him if at all possible Sytin. He's not always the nicest man." She'd counted him as a friend after all, and he's done nothing but get on her bad side since she met Kultir. Her smile fades when Kultir speaks and she shakes her head. "No love you /won't/ because I don't know what I'd do if you got yourself tossed out of the Weyr. He's not worth that." She leans forward and nabs Kultir's hand. Big time no no but she doesn't care if it gets his attention. "Hey," she drops his hand when he's looking at her again. "The Weyr has found people for the Sands forever. I think everyone is just afraid of the Thread." So is she to be honest, who in their right mind wouldn't be! "But everything will turn out alright, love. You'll see. Come Thread or flood I'm having this child."

"I'll be right behind you," Sytin informs his pseudo-sibling fervently. "Just as soon as these knots come off." Clearly he's starting to feel the strain of the dragging sevendays as they are filled with nothing except chores, lectures, sewing, and other tedious things. "I dunno why they're so mad at you, Kalea. S'not like Thread's falling yet. I'd think they'd see you as being responsible and all, trying to do it before the Pass starts…" Just his two quarter marks. He shrugs, shaking his head, but then looks sheepish as his friend laughs at his presumption, causing him to rub the back of his neck self consciously. "I just hate to see my friends hurt. 'specially over something so sharding stupid!" Kalea's warning gets a deeeeeeeep frown from the boy. "I've had experience dealing with less than nice people." His tone is raw with emotion and old mental scars.

Kultir punches his friend lightly on the shoulder. "I was laughin' at you saying you needed to Impress bronze to annoy T'lvier." he says though the boy's last words get a tight lipped, pinched look. He frowns and shrugs. "I'm sorry I told T'lvier about the journals." he mutters to Kalea. "He just made me so bloody mad …"

Kalea frowns at Kultir when Sytin begins popping off about being right behind the older teenager. See what you started? "Well I think it's the fact that Thread could hit any moment that has everyone on edge. And I don't even know if I'm allowed to work ground crew." It does irk her that she may not be able to fight at all. That isn't what she was bred for. But push comes to shove she'll hide inside until after the baby arrives. She can't even try to tell them that it doesn't hurt her. So she simply smiles sweetly at Sy. "It'll work itself out once the baby is here and Ryadranth and I can get back to doing what we were born to do." She looks up at Kultir when he apologizes and feels all of her anger drain out of her. It isn't like she's ever been able to stay mad at him long anyway. "It's alright, Kultir. Don't worry about it." She pushes herself to her feet and sighs softly. "I need to get back to the Weyr. You two don't miss curfew eh? I'll see you 'round."

"I need a bigger dragon, don't I?" Sytin grouses, feeling irritation for this brownrider he hasn't even met. Kultir's thin-lipped look doesn't merit a response beyond a matter-of-fact shrug from the boy, before the greenrider captures his attention again and he nods in sympathy with her words. "S'like Aleile would say, 'Dragonmen must fly when Threads are in the sky'." He scrambles to his feet as Kalea does, not wanting to be rude. "I promise to get this lout back before dark," he assures her seriously, though a faint smile plays at his lips and dances in his eyes. Then the rider is meandering off and he flops back down into the grass with a heady sigh. "Sharding politics."

Kultir had winced at the look Kalea had given him and shrugs. "She's right though … stay away from T'lvier, he's pretty mean." he says. "Yeah … but them politics is what got us these knots, eh?" He glances at the horizon and shrugs. "I guess we'd better get back, eh? I don't wanna hurry though …" He shoves himself up and offers the younger boy his hand since he'd just flopped back down again.

Sytin grunts, taking the elder Candidate's hand and letting himself be hauled up again. "Mean is relative." The next statement from Kultir elicits a heavy sigh. "I suppose it did." Head shakes and he turns a glance toward the fading light of day. "S'ppose we better. It'll take us half a candlemark to get back at least." That said, he starts strolling back down the graduated pathway, elbows canted out and fingers once again laced behind his head, holding a casual banter that lilts up toward the slowly appearing stars as they wink in, one by one…