The sun makes its way down lower in the sky, threatening to turn a chilly day into an even chillier night. To account for that, the dragonrider that makes its way onto the caravan grounds is dressed for winter. Her helmet is still on, a frazzled brown braid poking out from below it; her wherhide flying clothes are insulated and lined, and a plain grey scarf is wrapped around her face and ears, hands gloved and boots lined. She's still shivering as she stamps down the road from the weyr, muttering under her breath. Behind her is a strange sight – a great big brown dragon, doing this extremely awkward hop-bound behind her, trying to balance keeping up with his draconic inclination towards clumsiness on the ground. She's carrying on a one-sided conversation with him as she walks, eyes slightly out of focus. "No, Oddy, I don't know how we're supposed to find whoever it is you're talking about. Can't you be more specific?" A few seconds' pause. "That's not actually helpful," she sighs, patiently. "Look, at least tell me if the direction I'm going is getting hotter or colder, okay?" Beat. "That's still not actually helpful. Look, okay, I'll make this simple for you: North, or south?" Eyes whirling blue in glee, the dragon does a funny little hop-hop-dance, like a weasel war dance, shivering his wing vaines excitedly. He's a great big huge thing, all blunt and looming; prodigiously hulking and blunt, but up closer, he looks… strange, well, kind of huggable. How weird.

Cormir is standing in the middle of the caravan grounds with what looks like a hand drawn map, turning it over a few times saying "Like man, I still can't read his hand writing.." The lanky man is dressed in his regular green tunic and brown pants, with his polished black boots. But added is an Orange knit hat and fluffy bluegreen style jacket with mittens. He is clearly lost at the moment so may not even notice the rider and dragon walking/bounding up on him.

Most people notice the approach of a big dragon, because it starts to feel like an earthquake after too long. The rider must have practise at walking through such tremors. She doesn't even stumble, although she's clearly distracted, reaching up to wipe the condensation from her goggles. "What do you mean, 'you're the bestest at Searching?' Oh, of course you mean well; you always mean well. But you've got to have at least an idea of where they are, right? We could be walking the Weyr all night." Zetali sighs a long-suffering sigh. "Are we at least getting close?" The dragon picks his head up, looking in one direction and then the other, champing his jaw in apparent indecision. His head twists to follow Cormir, then back to Zetali, meaningfully, as he hunkers down a little in apparent excitement. The dragonrider sighs, tossing the end of the scarf over her shoulder and turning to walk straight at Cormir. She looks him over, briefly, eyes a brilliant sea-green against the tan of her skin or the brown of her hair, although she looks tired. "'Scuse me. Sorry to bother you—" Her eyes flick down to his knot, "—Senior Apprentice. Have you got a few minutes?"

And that causes the lanky apprentice to jump, Cormir jumping in the air a few feet before he turns and blinks saying "Like Excuse me! I am sorry am I in the way?" His voice is a bit hoarse like he might spend his time screaming alot. He looks around the woman in all riding gear and takes a half step back when he sees the large dragon. "Um like, what can I do for you ma'am?"

"No, you just happen to be here." You poor soul, Zetali can't help but add, mentally. Getting drafted into one of Odskovith's wild wherry chases is a sure way to waste most of a day. The rider folds her arms, staring at Cormir with those bright eyes. "Did you travel here with anybody? Were you part of any kind of group? Odskovith here," and she thumbs over her shoulder, "is looking for somebody who has the necessary qualities to Stand before the clutch hardening on the sands. He thinks he's about got it narrowed down, but he isn't sure. We're looking for people who might be about your age, maybe a little older or younger by a few Turns." She looks nonplussed as the brown dragon behind her fidgets excitedly. "Think you could help us out? You'd be doing me a real favour," she adds, blandly. A little skeptical about Odskovith's chances of success, probably.

Cormir tilts his head at the request, mostly because it is so forgein to him, as he says "well I was with a group of younger apprentices but we got seperated as i am rather new to this Weyr" He holds up the poorly hand drawn map on how to go from the dorms to the baths. "Um did he say what they looked like? or what they might of like Been wearing? I don't mind helping at all."

When the map is held up, Zetali leans closer, squinting at it with an expression of disgust. She reaches out to poke at it with a gloved forefinger. "That isn't very useful, is it? Look, in exchange for monopolising your time, I'll take you where you need to go when we're finished. I can spare enough time for that." She straightens. "No, he doesn't know what they're wearing, or what they look like. If you can take us to them, though, he might be able to tell which one it is. Somebody here is due to Stand, and I'm not leaving until I've got somebody to put on the sands, for all this trouble. And I'm going to have to feed him when we're all finished!" she finishes, in tones of mock exasperation. "Anyway… lead on, Senior Apprentice. What's your name?" She jabs her lapel with a thumb, although she hasn't removed her helmet. It's less than freezing out. No thank you. Stayin' warm. "I'm Zetali, brown Odskovith's; of Arroyo Wing."

Cormir nods and gives a rather stiff bow saying "Cormir, Ma'am, nice to like meet you both!" He turns and points towards the central Bazzar saying "we were headed this way from over there, they said there was fabrics they could only get form these folks out here in the wagons.." He turns and starts heading towards one of the few ones that look like a stall there are a few others there. Some older but most around the age of thirteen. He gets them to line up for the Dragonrider lady saying "These are them.." he takes a step to the side now still trying to figure out his map…

When the victims – er – potential Candidates are spread into a line, Zetali folds her arms, twisting to turn and look over her shoulder at the brown dragon. Odskovith's head is very, very close and very, very big. His eyes whirl in his excitement as he turns his head to fix first one with a big opalescent eye, and then turn his head to fix them with the other. He fidgets in place, before drooping in place a little. "Nope. Not any of these," Zetali translates, for Cormir. Not that the big brown needs translation in that gesture. "Oh, look, there's a group over there. Let's go ask 'em," she says, pointing to a group of traders nearby. She runs towards them, waving her arms, while Odskovith follows at his awkward, ridiculous-looking gait. He ducks his head at about the same time Zetali has them all lined up. He straightens once he's studied them, drooping again, as Zetali shrugs. "None of these, either. Got any buddies hiding away in the area?" she asks, with a bland and long-suffering sigh.

Cormir shrugs at the other apprentices as they go back to there business and then follows the rider because that was the deal after all. " Nope just, like just me and them.." He says off handedly looking around as if someone might pop up out of the snow, like a daisy. He still gives the brown dragon a wide berth as he moves around to talk with the rider, they are totally like runners right? will kick if you sneak up on them?

Although Zetali squints at Cormir's peculiar speech patterns, she doesn't comment. Her mouth twisting thoughtfully when he says there's nobody else. She straightens, shielding her eyes from the last of the evening sun, scanning the crowd quickly. Another group is seized, and eventually arranged into a long line. The mix of crafter apprentices and traders fidget uncomfortably as they submit themselves to Odskovith's inspection. They shift their weight. They scuff their shoes. They look around, anywhere but at the dragon's big blunt snout sniffing at them. (His breath is kind of stinky and acrid like firestone.) Zetali stands off to one side while he makes all this show of examination, folding her arms and rolling her eyes. "Sorry, Cormin," she sighs, to the Senior Apprentice. "I'm sure he'll be done with this nonsense soon enough, and we'll get you back to where you need to go. He's already been at this for an hour all across the Weyr. I was going to catch some shut-eye on my restday, but I guess not," she says, blandly. Her prickling is all lies, though. There's nothing but affection for that childishly eager dragon, wiggling in place and wagging his tail as he checks out the latest line of victims candidate-Candidates.

Cormir says off-handledly "Cormir. And I understand that, first day I got here was to be a rest day and they snatched me up to fight Thread as like ground crew." He pulls out a sea shell necklace and rubs his fingers against it almost like he is warding off another event like that. "Are like dragons always this thorough when looking for people?" He has stopped looking at his map but is kinda marching in place to keep warm as it is pretty cold out for the warmer climate fellow.

The brownrider sighs and raises a skeptical brow. So, not a fan of flamethrowers, and needs extra training. Check. That's nothing that can't be fixed with some proper education. Check! Zetali rubs her gloves together, considering her options. "I can't promise that the amazing part of it won't be outweighed by the dangerous parts of it. Threadfighting is tough… there's no guarantees about tomorrow. But you're protecting all the people of Pern by doing so. You're doing it together, with someone who understands you perfectly. Better than you understand yourself, I'd say." She folds her arms again, more to keep herself from fidgeting, and looks straight at Cormir. "I ask because I'm wondering if you'd be interested in Standing on the Sands. I think what Oddy here was picking up on… was you." Faranth help me, Zetali can't help but think to herself, and so, it begins. Hope we aren't wrong about this. The brown dragon, meanwhile, is crouched down nearby and watching Cormir with evident glee, wiggling and fidgeting in his effort to keep his tail under control. It wouldn't do to knock big stuff over. Zetali reaches into a jacket pocket, pulling out a white Candidate knot and holding it up for Cormir to see. "What do you say…?"

Cormir takes an unconscious side step to put the rider between him and the wiggling HE IS SO GOING TO POUNCE ME dragon. He looks torn, scared, nervous like a rabbit ready to bolt. But he swallows that fear down and stands up a little straighter. (no snacks needed it seems) "If you two think I have what it takes, I am not going to argue. I will Stand for the Weyr, and hope I get chosen." But in side his mind he is probably freaking out, but hey bravery and insanity and some blurred line right…

"Sorry. This is all-ll-ll Oddy," Zetali replies, blandly. She backs a few steps to place a hand against a massive foreleg, leaning on it companionably. "He seems to think you might have what it takes, but I have to pass on any judgement, and I can't guarantee that you will Impress. If you want to do it, it's your decision. It's not an imperative." She holds up an index finger. "I've got to admire your bravery, but you should also know this is voluntary. I can't make you Stand. You can say no, if you have any major doubts about this." She'll wait a minute, too, just to be sure.

Cormir shakes his head "No, like I am good. If I don't impress then I can always go back to my craft." Which seems to help settle him abit, he gives her a smile and the dragon too adding "And I hope not to let him down." Because if he is going to try he will give it all he has got, even if it isn't alot. "Do I need to like, sign a waiver or something?"

"I guess that was my plan, so I can hardly fault you for that. I was a Senior Apprentice Harper before I was asked to Stand." Zetali glances over her shoulder at the brown dragon before looking back to Cormir. "Eh, don't worry about letting him down. Dragons have pretty short memories. He'll probably forget who you are as soon as I take you to the Candidate Barracks. Oh, no, no waiver. Speaking of which… we'd better do that. I can explain the rules of Candidacy to you while we walk. Okay, Oddy," she throws over her shoulder, "go stuff your face." She gestures for Cormir to follow her. Off to the next chapter in Cormir's life… maybe!