Who

Talya

What

Talya has been having a lot of inner battles with her thoughts on candidacy and the future.

Candidate Bingo

When

It is early morning of the seventh day of the fifth month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Candidate Barracks

OOC Date 29 Jun 2018 07:00

 

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Candidate Barracks

Perhaps the safest place in the weyr, these barracks: the stonework here is old, perhaps as old as the weyr is itself, for the uncanny cleanliness of ancient stonecutters marks neat corners and perfect arches. Richly-lit by glowlight, tapestries reflect scenes of yore from the walls - dragons flaming, holders farming, and one particularly well-made that depicts the impression of a dark-haired girl to a light-toned gold dragonet, dripping and fierce. The barracks themselves are open-air, with not even a curtain to divide the space of male from female. Bunk-bed style cots line each wall, hammocks strung along the middle for those unfortunate enough to lack the privacy that an adjoining wall brings. There are privies in the back and locker-style item storage in the front, and one especially large table next to a book-case filled with basic Harper texts.


There was a candidacy in the desert just about a Turn ago now that Talya remembers passing in a blur of chores and excitement. Add in a lot of whining about the lack of drinking.

In Southern, her home, it is a more somber affair. Talya is resting on her bed in the early pre-dawn morning, listening to the sounds of people starting their day around her: there were candidates that had the lucky draw of going to start breakfast in the kitchens or those that needed to catch a bath after passing out late last night. Further away there was the faint sounds of weyrlings even and their young dragons, but she tuned those out.

On one side of her head was Blue, on the other was Beast. In front of her— above her actually with her arms outstretched and held between her fingers, is her candidate knot. She stares up at it in low lighting. Her weary eyes watches as her fingers slowly spin it around and around and around…

It was never too late.

She could always leave it.

Walk out.

Return to Guard duty.

Watch the eggs hatch from the Galleries.

Get so wasted she won't even be able to see her own hands in front of her.

The thoughts would always bubble up in her head after a sleepness night. Nights full of dreams of falling, of burning, of bugs— she inwardly cursed Zymuraith's weird clutch for that last one added to her stockpile of recent nightmares. She always woke with a gasp; it was always dark. She always reached around the too-small bed, as if searching for something. Her firelizards took to sleeping framing her head, as if knowing she needed their presence when she woke. To know where she was. A little reassurance.

Dragonriders seemed fearless, and she was full of fear. Who was she when she wasn't drinking, freeloading, or teasing someone for her own satisfaction? Was she going to change completely if a dragon does find her this time? Did she still want to Impress? What if she could not trust her own dragon? Did she like who she was becoming, who she may become?

She is stuck…

A loud snore finally pierces those thoughts from her mind. She gives her firelizards a pat, waking them up so that she can slip out of bed and get ready for the day.

She leaves the white knot on her bed until the very end, placing it back on her shoulder where it needs to go after only a brief moment of hesitation.

Another day.

She'll just keep going through the motions, try to tire her mind and body out.

It was never too late, but she will stick around for today.

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