====June 12, 2013
====Kyara, K'ane, Alwyn; appearances by Teyaschianniarina and Riyn
====Kyara becomes the first female Candidate for this Search…in a rather unexpected manner!

Who Kyara, K'ane, Alwyn, Teyaschianniarina, Riyn
What Kyara becomes the first female Candidate for this Search…in a rather unexpected manner!
When There are 2 turns, 0 months and 6 days until the 12th pass.
Where Living Caverns; Central Bowl; Candidate Barracks, Igen Weyr

Living Cavern
Dim light from hanging glow-globes cannot fully camouflage the ravages of time and neglect on Igen's busy living caverns, though hints of its former glory peek through in the decorative cuts to the cave's natural limestone and the high quality of dusty, tatty-ended tapestries. Here and there, skybroom tables — stained dark by wood finish and a decade of grime — sit in loose groups, flanked by wicker chairs with pointy, broken rattan that pokes out to invariably find unprotected skin. The seemingly randomly placed furniture, however, at closer inspection, forms a sort of cross-shape of negative space. At the northernmost walls and nooks of the caverns, a long buffet table with tarnished lazy susans hosts an array of finger-foods and pitchers for the interested, refilled occasionally by drudges that shuffle in from the curtained entrance to the south, beyond which lies the kitchens. To the east is a large arch leading outside and, across from that, to the west, a set of rattling doors that open to reveal the tunnels and stairs of the inner caverns themselves.

It probably comes as a surprise - to some - that K'ane, erstwhile Inferno rider of High Reaches and current lifemate to bronze Dhioth, justicar eternal, has taken the unprecedented tact of LAYING LOW since his late jump forward (he arrived roughly point-zero-zero-seven seconds prior to Zeyta, though that notable clutchmate's arrival overshadowed his own… except not physically, as Dhioth ranks among the largest bronzes on Pern these days). Evidence: he's in the freakin' GOLDRIDER wing and he's slouched at a table in the back corner of the weyr, a paranoid staring around him and a protective arm circling his plate. He's a big man, well-suited for the cold, and the only time his paranoia slips is when he chuffs a snort of laughter for the teeth-rattling shivers escaping some of those coming fresh from the bowl. Oh Igen. This ain't NOTHIN' on a Snowy Wastes night.

Shivering slightly at the difference in temperature between the Living Cavern and outside, Kyara heads straight for the sideboard full of Ravene's stuffed breads. She's just been hiking around the Lake, trying unsuccessfully to shake off getting flamed at earlier in the Bazaar. Instead of going straight for dinner, she proceeded to burn off way too many calories, and now her stomach is going to eat itself, she thinks. There's wherry stew, too. Good. Gathering up her food, she turns around to stalk a table. Not too many people here tonight, so she has her choice. Even so, she heads for a spot in the corner she favors, and is momentarily taken aback by a rather…curious-looking rider she's not yet seen. She could look elsewhere…but this is where her favorite hearth is. And maybe she's a little intrigued by this new person. Anything to take her mind off of what happened earlier. "Erm…" She eyes a spot safely across the table from him. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

Wary eyes, K'ane's are blue and set amongst a feathering of thoughtful crows-feet; they examine Kyara a moment, narrowing slightly at her knot before the rest of him reacts. There's a chin nod towards the seat catty-corner to him, where she can see the rest of the room and sit roughly at his left side with her back to the wall. "Sure," and his voice hits strongly upon an Istan drawl - deep Istan, probably hailing from one of those rocky coastal holds known more for fingerclaws and sailors than anything else. Paradise, perhaps? His leathers are rough-out and more rustic than most other riders prefer to wear. Hardy, though, and strong, dyed a pleasant mahogany. "I s'pose I could use a bit of company that isn't going t'badger me." And they put him in the diplomacy wing?

Kyara's ears perk a bit at the different cant of the man's voice. There's a different music in his words…and his choice of words makes the corner of her mouth twitch toward a smirk as she takes a seat. "Thank you." She takes a long pull at her mug of klah, discreetly surveying him over the edge. His knot has bronze in it…and blue. High Reaches? Another Oldtimer? This makes her relax a fraction; she's not too sure she'd be able to handle another Nowtimer rider today. "No one's ever told me I'm the badgering type," she says, "so I'll try to hold to that. I don't think I've seen you here before, though, so…an introduction, at least? I'm Kyara."

It's been a long, long day. Crazy people yelling at him and slapping him with white knots. Getting moved out of one place and into another. More of the same crazy people yelling at him to continue cleaning and sorting the archives - which he's already been doing with Kyara's help. But now it's time to relax a little. There have been handshakes from many crafters and some of the kitchenstaff. Everyone seems to be in a good mood about the “drunk apprentice from Benden” getting picked for the next clutch - even if it is a bit unorthodox to have it done by a Headwoman. The one person he wanted to see - the one person he wanted to talk to is the very same person who was only a few feet from him when his life changed. As he grabs himself a mug of klah and adds some sweet-sap to it, the small blue dragonette adjusts its perch upon his newly padded (read as: a folded dishcloth sewn inside the jerkin) shoulder. With a respectful pause at the periphery of their conversation, Alwyn waits until Kyara and the unknown rider are at a pause before asking, "Excuse me, Rider…" he begins and then reaches down to touch Kyara on the shoulder, "Find me when you're through here?" he asks her politely.

If Kyara only knew that K'ane is the living, breathing writer of Whoreson's Lament, a rather inelegant name for a beautifully sorrowful bit of composition back in their time… but K'ane isn't likely to put that out there. Alas. He does have a beautiful baritone, though, rich and deep for all of his manglement of verbiage and excessive bass-vibrato rumble. "Hmm," is his non-committal, nonverbal return, taking a long drawl from his mug - doesn't look like klah's in it - before canting a glance askance to the girl. "K'ane," he eventually states, "—of bronze Dhioth, late of High Reaches." The bronzerider eases in his regard enough to soften his hardass composure and ask, "Someone from th' right time, are you?" There is a certain irony to the inflection of his words. And belatedly: "Well-met, Kyara. Dhioth's compliments." His face screws up as if his lifemate would like him to say something more but he's flat-refusing; he misses Alwyn's approach except to nod his head at the lad, eyes half-unfocused in internal consternation.

Alwyn's arrival is enough to bring out an actual smile from the harper girl, though seeing him brings on a whole new assault by memories from earlier that she has to batter back into submission before she's able to greet him. Looking up at him as he touches her shoulder, she spies the white knot - yes, that did actually happen somewhere on the periphery, there - and nods. "Of course. I just need to get this in me before I try moving again." Turning back to her food, and the bronze rider, she settles in a bit. She gives a humorless laugh at his reference to "their era," but it's the fact that he conveys his dragon's compliments to her that causes her to blink, amber eyes brightening. She hasn't heard that done since her days at the Hall. "Your dragon? Erm… Well, convey my compliments back. If you don't mind."

Alwyn nods to Kyara and wanders over to one of the tables nearby so he can, himself, enjoy a bit of a break from the day. Not to be so far away as to force Kyara to play “find the harper” like they've had to do a few times since his arrival a few days ago, he moves to give the two of them some privacy. Mako squawks a little and starts to slowly climb his way down Alwyn's arm once he's seated. Now on the table, the blue can stretch out his wing sails and flap them around a little. He's a strong little guy.

K'ane abruptly stands. It isn't at anyone's words, per-se, or even glances; it seems much rather to do with That Damned Voice In His Head being persistent or insistent, or maybe he's just being an ass? Never know when Dhioth's in the picture. "You," he crooks a finger at Kyara; it's obvious it's been broken at one point, that right pointer, and re-set at an angle that isn't crazily off-whack but definitely isn't straight. "Come with me." He pauses, inspects Alwyn. "You too. Get a jacket, or something, it's cold out." He doesn't follow his own words, clad only in his rough-out leather pants and a heavy, dense, fuzzy natural-tan sweater, heading for the Bowl without pausing to see if either of his denizens are following him.

"Wait…what?" And the rider is up and heading for the Bowl without so much as a backward glance. Kyara casts a startled look at Alwyn. Then, without a thought, she picks up her blanket/jacket and hurries after him.

Alwyn jumps to his feet at the command of the Rider. He's already been “schooled” in Candidate etiquette, and when summoned, he should obey. Taking a second to put Mako back on his shoulder-perch, he grabs his duffle and starts pulling a cloak out of it while following the two of them towards the Bowl. "What's going on?" Alwyn asks Kyara as he heads towards the exit. Once beyond the confines of the living cavern, he throws a split-sided cloak around his shoulders and looks around to see where the Rider is going. No doubt he'll be cleaning something.

Central Bowl
Cradled, childlike, in an easterly mountainous embrace, the steppes of the central bowl nestle cozily between lake and weyr. The latticework of dusty adobe paths spider out from the southerly Weyr Road, the wagon-ruts of which curve lazily to the northeastern bazaar, the adobe sprawl of the New Weyr reflected in the lake that dominates a large portion of outdoor Igen. A small footpath, just as abused, ambles away from the shores, travelling over rock and hill to the northern dragonet complex and branching itself due west to end at the entrance of the blessedly cool inner caverns. One cracked path, faint with disuse, leads southeast to the crumbling ruins of Igen-that-was. All around, the dizzying heights of the caldera's sharp-sloped sides are pocked here and there with ledges, the weyrs' draconic occupants needing no path to guide their way.

"Damned if I know!" the harper girl breathes, just loud enough for Alwyn to hear. "I just know I'm not about to have a bronze rider flaming at me for not doing as he asks. I hear they can be touchy that way." She picks up her pace to catch up to K'ane, consternation in full swing. "Rider…erm, K'ane…why did…what are we doing out here?" She gets so eloquent when she's confused.

Out in the Bowl, a striking dragon of light-against-darkness looms, an eerie relic from a distant age. Except the relic has whirling eyes and intensity of gaze, and those multifaceted eyes focus on Kyara the moment she emerges from the depths of the caverns. K'ane turns about once they are in proximity of the beast, who doesn't look displeased or flaming whatsoever, and with little ceremony requests of Kyara: "Sing a bit, if you would. Harper." He flourishes a gesture to the bronze, "Dhioth would like to hear your voice." His eyes travel over her head to Alwyn, bemused.

Alwyn actually tilts his head to the side as though looking at this situation from a different angle, literally, would help him understand what in the name of the first queen is going on. Still, while Kyara is the singer of the two of them, he still finds the idea of singing to a dragon - or that a dragon would like to be sung to quite…well, interesting. Either way he can't help but offer, "Oh, I'm glad he doesn't want to hear mine - you might have a problem catching him as he flies back to…where did you say you were from, Rider? I…wait…I know those colors." And he pauses as it sinks in, "Oh…" and with a quick glance back to Kyara and then to the rider he seems to put two and two together. "…inn-nnnteresting." Not that he would be stalling for Kyara or anything but he tries to interject a little, "Would you like to have you…and your dragon sketched for our archives sometime? I'm trying to create a visual record of the Weyr."

Kyara looks up and suddenly finds herself robbed of breath. K'ane's huge bronze looms almost impossibly large in the waning light, seeming somehow anciently beautiful… She blinks, trying not to gape at the bronze rider. "S-sing? Your dragon wants to hear me sing?" Honestly, she's supposed to sing at a time like this? Forcing herself to breathe again, she clears her throat, hastily trying to pick out a bit of song from the hurricane of her thoughts…

"Softly wanes the daylight gold
Giving way to shadow cold
Moonlight guides my steps this night
Far beyond the Weyr's warm light…"

There's a softness to Dhioth's eye that isn't there typically; that massive wedge-shaped head descends to bestow a rustling breath of warm air over both Kyara and Alwyn both, as if draconic benediction could be given by simply exhalation of life's-breath and blessing. K'ane half-slumps at this point, eyes Alwyn with an expression that fights between terrible amusement and laconic sardony. "Maybe later," he replies with a quirk of an eyebrow. "What's your name, kid?" is his follow-up — he'd have better luck if he knew the candidate's name, after all — before his attention diverts to Kyara. "Lovely voice," K'ane offhandedly comments, eyeballing her hard. "He can't fault you there." It's almost GRUDGING, how he states it. He then chuffs, probably at his own recalcitrance. "Would you like to Stand for Jivayath's clutch, Harper?"

The harper girl closes her eyes, letting the unexpected breath from the huge dragon envelop her - not an unpleasant experience. Then the question…wait. Did she hear that properly? Stand… Faranth, I'm being Searched?!! Kyara gasps - she never gasps unless she's scared out of her mind, but she isn't exactly that right now - and studies K'ane's blue-eyed gaze as thought he might be joking. But he doesn't seem the type. "Y…Yes?" She glances at Alwyn, who's all grin. "Yes! I would!"

K'ane has laughing eyes for Alwyn, though there isn't any externally discernable reason for such a phenomenon to have occurred. He offers his own name in return: "K'ane, of Dhioth," with a thump to his lifemate's ready foreleg. Then his attention is on Kyara, and he gives a smile - a true smile. "Good. He would have made you stand out here an' sing him t' sleep otherwise, and then he'd have forgotten you said no an' I'd've had t' ask you all over again." He shakes his head with a crooked grin, this time. "Congratulations, candidate Kyara, and our luck t' your success on the Sands." It's intoned with the formality of a Searchrider conducting business. Then he ruins it by wrinkling his nose. "I guess I better find you a knot. Aw hell, c'mon and I'll walk you back to the barracks." He starts, slowly, towards the caverns-entrance again.

Alwyn flinches as though a crack of thunder just broke the heavens above his head. Bright blue eyes dart around him and up into the sky as though he were looking for a…source. The flying-stomach on his shoulder squawks in a brief bit of panic as the new candidate's shudder has disturbed his perch. It's then - as soon as Kyara answers - his gaze flashes to K'ane's Bronze. "How…" is about all he's able to muster. He then remembers some of the things he's heard about riders and dragons and then becomes about two inches tall. If you could hear his thoughts you might pick up on something like Eep! as well as a lot of Not thinking about it. Not thinking about it. Not gonna think…shard it…I thought about it… As it sinks in that Kyara has said yes, he walks over to her and throws his arms around the older girl and hugs her dearly, whispering, "I couldn't be happier."

That she's being hugged almost doesn't register. "I…I'll sing for Dhioth anytime," Kyara stammers out dumbly, returning the bronze rider's lopsided grin measure for measure. Why she says this, she isn't too sure. Maybe it's the need to say…something. Then she shakes her head and finally acknowledges Alwyn's hug, catching him about the middle in turn and letting out a few breathless laughs. "Thanks!" she manages before disentangling herself. Something about a knot…oh. Right. More following of the bronze rider to be done. She tugs Alwyn's arm gently before setting off after K'ane once again.

Dhioth is abruptly jarred from his duties as doleful overseer — overhearer? — of the pretty voices, lifting his head abruptly towards the skies. K'ane quirks an eyebrow overhead: he can see you up there, ye pale silver-and-cold heathen ye, he can. Instead of voicing anything to a mysterious presence overhead, he merely shrugs a shoulder, crooks another grin at Kyara for her words, and gestures them both to follow.

Candidate Barracks
Hopes, dreams, and fears are contained in these cramped quarters, full of small cots and smaller trunks; thin ragged curtains barely provide privacy between the bunks, shining patches in the material suggesting one too many mending attempts. The minimal floor space is kept clear of debris and personal possessions, wide enough for a single broad table often used for study in the art of dragon care. Here, too, humidity has gathered into high corners, running down the walls and creating a slightly unpleasant atmosphere of damp and mildew. Near the entrance, one cubby exists, large enough to contain a bit of luxury for an adult overseer of the candidates, and a desk — for once in reasonable shape — is set to the left of the entrance, conveniently placed for the monitoring of comings and goings.

Oh a study of contrasts: K'ane, entering, broad-shouldered, bluff-built, in roughouts and traces of mud from a recent trek to the watery bowl; and his followers like ducklings. Somehow the big man procures himself a knot, probably by bullying some poor caverns-man into giving him one, and he's turning to the pair of Harpers following; specifically, Kyara. "Here," and he's far less standing on ceremony now, offering the thing casually; "Find a cot, and I'm sure Alwyn will help you get settled in. Y'prolly want t' see Prineline sooner'n later, from what I've heard, though I'll be sure t'send her a note about your…" and here his lips tug, half-smirk at the ready, "…acquisition for Jivayath's clutch." And thus for the first time does a bronzerider Oldtimer search a girl for a chromatic clutch on Igen sands. Holla.

"You- be my ears, Ri, and you be my eyes when I-," and oh, lo, there are more candidates arriving! Rather than seeing herself off she pulls herself up, squaring her shoulders and not - not fussing with her knot, actually, but it is there on her shoulder: first female Weyrsecond in 200+ turns, represent. "Bronzerider," she greets K'ane, and her tone may be all big-girl grown-up Weyrsecond but there's a crinkle at the corners of close-set eyes, "thank you for doing your duty to Igen," mustn't grin, mustn't grin. "Candidates," because those, "welcome to candidacy at Igen Weyr. Prineline is the Headwoman, who will be in charge of many of your duties regarding chore rotations; I'm," not grinning; she manages a fairly credible On Duty face, even now, "Weyrsecond Teyaschianniarina, and I'll be looking our for you all." Good, yes? Yes, good.

Alwyn nods to Teya - having not formally met the woman before. "Oh yes…the Headwoman knows me quite…well," he grimaces a little but still smiles at how things have turned out for him and Kyara in the same day.

The harper girl, still rather goggle-eyed, takes the white knot with more ceremony than K'ane offers it, making a conscious effort to keep her fingers from jittering too much. "Thank you," she manages, taking in the barracks and the people within at a glance. Not much privacy to be had here. Well, on the bright side, it won't be too much of a stretch from the Terraces. She barely suppresses a wince at the mention of Prineline, but supposes she had better just get used to it now. Then, suddenly, there's a new rider in their midst - the Weyrsecond. Kyara straightens, listening intently. Her name…good grief, but she doesn't think the woman's name is going to stick unless she hears it a few more times. "It's an honor, Weyrsecond," Kyara gets out in the brief pause afterward. A sidelong glance for Alwyn, accompanied by a slightly pained smirk. For all she knows, she'll get to know Prineline just as well.

The display just makes Riyn smile; for all that he tries to keep his personal/familial connections really low key around groups, and around strangers, there is absolutely no mistaking the fact that the Weyrsecond is his sister. Considering also the identical size and presumably identical age, they are just as clearly twins. "Of course," he offers, as a whispered aside, to her — listening, watching, that's what he does. Everyone else then gets the more-social, bland-generic Riyn-expression; it's kind of a smile! "I'm Riyn," is all he says.

K'ane flickers a look to Teya, and his grin broadens all haphazard and shit because hello, he can. "Guardlet," is his negligent return. Erf. Dhioth must give him an earful, because he (recalcitrantly) pulls himself upright. "Weyrsecond," because WEYRLASS is not a title though it should be maybe? "Teyaschianniarina," he didn't take a bracing breath before expunging that whole thing in the vague sing-song of supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, really. "Dhioth's commendations to Ryg." He gives Riyn a nod - he knows that kid from SOMEWHERE. Right? To Kyara: "Good pick. Callin' her Weyrsecond." He surveys everything, gives a snort of a chuckle, and shakes his head. "Kyara. Alwyn. Luck to both of you." And just like that, with the ease of one familiar with this whole rigamarole, K'ane's exiting, humming the harmony line of song that Kyara sung just a few moments prior.

No, shardit - it's 'guardlet' that does it, has On Duty cracking with a still deeply stifled grin that brightens Teya's eyes. "If you can't manage the mouthful, Teya will always do. Please, don't be afraid to come to me if you have any trouble." With that she's following K'ane's example, and turning to exit, back from whence she came.

"'bye, you," Riyn says to retreating K'ane and Teya both — which one of them is 'you'? Probably, well, both. Two things he won't ever be as a candidate: a) a prankster, and b) bend-over-backward respectful to riders. Especially not those he already knows. Respectful? Sure. But only the same amount of respect he gives anyone else, and that may very well include calling departing bronzeriders 'you' when he, at least, remembers their interactions (and probably wouldn't be surprised that K'ane doesn't). The arriving candidates get another smile, and a, "Nice to meet you," that is actually at least sincere, and then he's off to properly claim his corner bunk.

"Thank you…Teya," Kyara says to the exiting rider, but she's already out the door. The harper girl heaves a tremendous sigh. She hasn't had such an up-and-down ride of a day since coming forward! "Hoooo… That was…" She means the words for Alwyn, but looking to her right, she finds the poor boy passed out. Well, he's had a heck of one, too. And she suddenly realizes how tired she is all of a sudden. And that she left half-eaten bread and stew on the table in the Caverns. A voice from a short way away acknowledges her, and she turns to the owner with a smile. "Nice to meet you, too." She'll have to actually talk to him later. For now, she has a small trek to make back to the Terraces for her things. One can't settle in without things to claim a space with, after all. She takes a moment to fix her new knot to her right shoulder. So strange, seeing that glint of white out of the corner of her eye there, now. Alright, girl. What have you gotten yourself into now? With a grin to herself, Kyara jogs from the Candidate Barracks. Let the adventure begin!

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