Ebben, Kultir


A secretive firelizard egg goes kablooie in the archives.


It is the fifty-second day of Summer and 28 degrees. It's really damn cold out.


Ice Field Records Room

OOC Date


ebben.jpg kultir2.jpg

Records Room

Standard archives. There's a locked part in the back, for sensitive folders, long communal tables for reading, hard benches and an archivist that will glare at you for talking too loud.

There is a bundle. Yes, a bundle. A bundle of clothes that is tucked under one arm as Ebben sneaks to the very back of the archives, the veeeeery VEEEERY back of the archives where even the stuffy archivists don't venture often. There's a rudimentary table and a couple chairs. Ebben carefully places his bundle down in the center of said table and then gets to work grabbing volumes off the shelves and stacking them around so as to contain the bundle and obscure it from view. Ebben has clearly gone insane.

Kultir wanders into the Archives here at the icy Hold with a somewhat confused look on his face as he carries a bowl heaped with raw meat in one hand and a small note in the other. He peers at the note again and shakes his head slightly before looking up and frowning around the cavernous room. Making his way back to the very back, he spots Ebben stacking books in an attempt to hide a pile of … clothes? Yup, his friend has definitely gone insane … as if the note hadn't already told him that. "Ebben?" The young man keeps his voice low so as not to alert the archivist to their presence but that single word is full of inquiry.

"Shhh!" Is burst out from behind the books as the candidate pops his head up, eyes all suspect and squinty as he sizes up his friend. "You brought the… the…" he looks around furtively "goods?" The books continue to stack, as he points towards the empty chair. "Just put it down there and help me stack books will you?" Yep, the cold must have done it. He must have just snapped. "Quick!" He whispers, grabbing another handful of books, eyes darting down to the pile of clothes at the center of his mounting madness.

Kultir smiles a little hesitantly at the younger man but nods slowly in hesitant affirmation. "Yeah … you wanted a bowl of raw meat. I dunno why but I brought it." The ex-tracker sets the bowl on the indicated chair and stuffs the note in his pocket as he bends to help stack books on the already growing wall. "You gonna explain exactly why we're stacking books around a pile of clothes?" The young man considers his friend and gnaws at his lower lip, wondering if he needs to speak to the Healers about his friend or not.

Once the books are stacked high enough, Ebben sighs and pulls Kultir over to the remaining opening by his shirt sleeve. "Yeah, so, here's the thing…" The healer-turned-candidate reaches into the constructed fortress and begins slowly unknotting the bundle until, right in the middle of it, is one very hard firelizard egg. Ebben looks up at his friend, with an expression that reads excited anxiety. "How the fuck am I going to explain this to the higher ups?" Because, as Kultir is well aware, Ebben is about as straight laced as they come. And having contraband, especially living contraband in this place is against every fiber of his rule-regimented being.

Kultir lets himself be pulled down toward that pile behind the books and watches as the younger man begins pulling it apart to reveal that hard firelizard egg. Laughing softly, he shakes his head and claps the ex-Healer on the shoulders. "What's to explain? Someone gave you a firelizard egg to hatch. Why would they have a problem with that?" The young man settles more easily onto his heels as his worry that the other was losing his mind to the cold melts away. "It's not like you're trying to hide a … a bottle of booze or a girl in the dorms or Barracks."

Ebben snorts, throwing a sarcastic look at his compatriot. "Oh please, like you could fit an extra girl in those smelly barracks." Not that he's thought about what the logistics might be in said situation but… tangent… "I didn't think it was, like, alive or anything. This old woman gave it to me after I helped her swollen joints with some of the salves I brought up. I thought it was like, ornamental or something." His voice is slightly shrill as he explains the circumstance. "I mean, how in the hell is a lizard supposed to live here? It's balls cold, Kultir!" Yes, the shrillness is beginning to bleed into hyperventilating panic. Just as a few deep breaths are sucked in as Ebben attempts to even himself out, the egg gives a little quiver and the younger man nearly launches upwards in surprise. "Shit! Shitshitshitshit."

Kultir laughs and shrugs. "I know what you mean, it is a bit crowded." The young man listens to the explanation and can't help the growing grin and sparkling eyes as he looks from the moving egg to Ebben and back again. "It'll do just fine if you can keep it warm enough. Worst case you bundle it up in some warm clothes and leave it in the bathing room." He glances down at his sweater where a lumpy bulge can be seen beneath the thickly knit wool and unbuttons a small opening to show a patch of green hide beneath the gray garment. "Berda and my others do just fine, they don't care for the cold but they snuggle up with me in bed and spend the day in the bathing chamber or kitchens when I have chores. Yours can do the same." When the younger man nearly jumps out of his skin, he sets a calming hand on the other's shoulder and presses the younger back down.

Ebben nods, listening to Kultir as he licks his lips and hunkers down to watch the now softly wobbling egg. "Ok, well, alright, so…" alright, so the kid is a little flustered. "What do I do? Like when it hatches, I know I'm supposed to feed it, but, do I hand feed it or throw it the food or…" The egg begins rocking again in earnest. "Um, I mean, how do I… what if it doesn't even like me? I mean dragons leave candidates out on the sands all the time and we both know I'm probably one of those guys anyway so what's to stop this thing from… you know…" he glances at Kultir, a small bit of clarity peeking out through the present tension "…not thinking I'm the right guy for the job?"

Now that Ebben isn't about to flake out, Kultir settles down crosslegged and reaches for the bowl of meat to set in front of the younger man before buttoning his sweater back up to keep the small green warm. "You just feed it. You can hand it the bits or you can toss it but you want to get it into your hands as soon as you can." He glances at the egg and nods at the rocking as he listens to the younger man's fears. "The best thing about firelizards is that they aren't as smart as dragons … at least not when they hatch. So long as you have food, that's all the firelizard cares about." He frowns slightly at the other's thoughts on what might happen on the sands and finds a resonance within himself from the last time he'd been asked to Stand.

Ebben grabs a handful of meat, nose wrinkling slightly as the cold texture squishes between his fingers. The moment of a shared haunting of their potential fate is palpable between the two, and Ebben half-smiles at Kultir, his expression one of understanding before there's a loud crack, and he whirls back to the rocking egg as bits of shell begin to fly off, shattering against the walls of stacked spines.

Kultir returns that smile with a lopsided one of his own and shrugs slightly. When the egg cracks so loudly, he turns back to watch the shell patter against the spines of stacked books. A light pat of encouragement is given to the younger man as the ex-tracker watches the meat squish slightly between the overly tight fingers. "Just relax. Offer one piece at a time and get it closer to you so you can get it into your lap. You'll be able to keep it warm and feed it to sleep. Then just tuck it close to your body to keep it warm and you can move around with it." He keeps his voice low, a gentle background murmur as if he were instructing someone in something that required complete concentration … which this does not, though the low monotone rumbling is somewhat soothing.

The egg vibrates, hops, and rolls within its fabric confines. With a sudden Snap! Crackle! Pop! the egg breaks open and out flops a tiny, damp, struggling firelizard. Ebben immediately leans back in surprise, but with Kultir's quiet encouragement he slowly moves forward, one piece of meat extended from in-between his fingers. The closer he gets, the more he can make out the supple tones of soft iris and indigo glittering beneath the sticky damp of birth. Ebben is speechless as the hungry little creature flops awkwardly, his talons catching the edges of his little wings before he can flap a few times with some petulant cries as his quickly whirling eyes blink away the worst of the goop and settle on the waggled offering. His tiny feet slide a bit and then propel him gracelessly forward where he falls into the fingers of Ebben and the meat there. The baby burbles querulously before chomping down, and as Ebben breaks into a smile and grabs some more meat, the firelizard clambers up into the candidate's palm; happy to munch while in a small warm ball. "Faranth," Ebben whispers as he keeps feeding the now slowly sated creature, his eyes and the little blue's meeting for the first time. "If impressing a dragon is a great deal more impactful than this, I don't know if I'll be able to handle it, mate."

Kultir grins as the little blue body flops out to where his friend can feed the hatchling, a soft chuckle sounding when the petulant cries turn into more happy tones. He nods slightly at the other as he watches silently as the Healer-turned-Candidate feeds the tiny creature. "I don't know what Impressing a dragon is like but I've heard that it's nearly impossible to describe the feeling one has when that other mind insinuates itself." His hand caresses over the bulge in his sweater where Berda sleeps in a fold of his tunic held close to his body. "But I know it was a bit … emotional to Impress my little ones." The ex-tracker doesn't go so far as to admit it, but he probably broke down a little when the firelizards he has recently acquired hatched.

Ebben sniffs a few times, but manages to disperse with the damp eyes before turning back to Kultir. "Crazy, to think we may be on our way to something like that." With the little blue now fully asleep in his palm, Ebben strokes gently at the soft hide, tracing the tops of its little wings. "What now, besides feeding and warmth? Do I need to bathe him?" For a man trained in healing, he didn't do a single lick of work on firelizard or dragon health, having never assumed it would apply to him.

Kultir smiles at the younger man and nods slightly. "It is a little crazy, huh?" He reaches out to touch one finger to the sueded hide of the newly hatched blue as he listens to the others questions. "Yeah, you'll need to bathe him and oil him so that his hide doesn't split." The young man has had the benefit of helping his weyrmate with her dragon and firelizard, and now his own, so he's got a bit more experience with the care and feeding of these small dragonkin. "You can take him into the bathing pool with you and just use a little soapsand on him. He'll know how to swim pretty fast once you introduce him to water and he'll start flying in a few days. Tomorrow or the next day, he'll stop flopping around and being so clumsy but he's not going to do much besides eat and sleep for a sevenday or so." He tilts his head slightly, trying to remember if he needs to warn the other man of anything else and shrugs a shoulder gently. "If you got more questions, just ask … plenty of us have 'lizards and can probably answer from personal experience."

Ebben grins up at Kultir as he collapses into the chair and puts his free hand to his forehead. "I wonder where the hell that woman got this, anyway." A little chuckle as he reaches over to gather up his clothing and tuck it under an arm, one kerchief kept out to pull over the snoozing blue. "Hey man, thanks so much. I was about to keel over with concern. Do you think I could borrow some of your oil till I can get some of my own?"

Kultir pushes himself to his feet and grins at the other, settling into another chair and starting to return the books to their shelves without regard to the correct place. "Who knows, maybe she bartered for it and decided it was too much trouble?" He glances up at the younger man and nods slightly. "Sure, I'm sure you can get some pretty easy once we get back to the Weyr. I think I've got an extra bottle in my gear you can have. I'll check when we go back to the dorm." He grunts softly as he reaches for the last few heavy books without squashing Berda and thumps them back onto the shelf before he leans back into his chair to look across at Ebben and his new pet. "What are you going to name him?"

Ebben looks down at the softly fluttering corner of the kerchief, a soft indication of the two nostrils sighing away underneath. "Well, since I had him in this wasteland of an environment, I should probably name him appropriately, right?" He grins over at Kultir, knowing full well the hunter loves it up here. "How about 'Serac?" he offers at last, giving a little shrug. "Plenty of those around these parts, anyway. And he is rather icy in coloration." Or appears that way, under the dappled tone of the pale kerchief.

Laughing softly at the younger man's joke, Kultir shrugs slightly. "I suppose so. It's not exactly a wasteland though I can understand why most of you guys think it might be." He glances down at the fluttering kerchief and nods. "Serac's a good name though. Fits him … where he hatched and how he looks." One large hand rests on his belly where the tiny green rests, an oddly tender expression on the ex-hunter's face.

Ebben shares a moment with his lizard before slowly moving to a stand. "Couldn't have done it without you, mate." The bond between the two candidates is pretty much steadfast at this juncture. "I'll see you back at the barracks, yeah? Grab that oil from you?"

Kultir grins and nods as he too stands now that the area they've been taking up is set mostly to rights. "Yeah, sounds fine. I'll be back in the dorm when I get finished with mucking duty." He claps the younger man on the shoulder as they both move to leave, sneaking past the easily irritated archivist before they get caught in the area where all the books are improperly shelved.

Add a New Comment