Hard Boiled Egg Thoughts

Igen Weyr - Galleries
You can look over the balcony to the Sands below. The seating here stretches out around the perimeter of the Sands, the rows of seating rising high above. The benches are wooden, simple bleachers, and the stone steps have been worn down along their center from turns of foot-traffic. Above the bleachers, the ledge of the galleries is pocked and marked from dragonclaws where dragons have perched to watch the hatchings as well.

Everyone's tolerances to the intense heat of the hatching sands of Igen must be increasing… or perhaps, fairly, this egg touching ended up briefer than some others. For whatever reason, this late afternoon finds Tejra in a seat in the galleries, near to the rail, as soon as the candidates' touching of those six perfect dragon incubators is complete. Her expression is less impassive than usual as the eggs do seem to have a way of cracking that nearly omnipresent mask the redhead wears as her second skin. She looks… introspective, perhaps a little worried even, but not like the typically antagonistic feline-like female who routinely plagues Yaromil's candidacy experience. And… he can sit somewhere else if he wants, but that's obviously not going to last, so…

Despite his usual native-built tolerance to the desert heat, Yaromil's looking a bit battered by the time they're ushered off the sands. There are certainly more seats available and any of them cooler than the row so close to the full heat of the Sands, but that first row is also the very first thing that the cotholder comes across and his legs sort of collapse him into a seat on their own accord. Tejra may not even have been notices as he certainly isn't facing her, eyes still on those six ovids that hold THE FUTURE for at least some of them. With such single minded focus, he'd definitely be easy prey for any predatory classmates to pounce upon.

WELL, IT'S NO FUN IF YOU MAKE IT THAT EASY, YAROMIL. Tejra's inner predator may have complaints about the lack of challenge in the hunt, the kill capture, but when the baby separates itself from the herd… There's really only one way this can go. She coils settles herself into the seat beside Yaromil, only a handful down from where she began, in a slouch that is somehow… slightly less graceful than her usual sinuous control of muscles long honed. "They make me feel things," she volunteers, quietly, grumpily, before casting a sidelong look toward Yaromil to see how her olive branch is received. "You?"

"It's like I can still hear them…" Yaromil's grump at least isn't directed at the harper for once, but more of a sympathetic echoing of her own concerns as he shivers a little bit, trying (futilely) to shake off some of those memories of the telepathic intrusions. "Think they'll sound the same once they're hatched?" He tilts his head to slightly to peer at her with just a single eye. Now that he knows the danger cat-like woman is there, he's not going to completely turn his back on her, especially not when she might have more information than he does.

"No." Tej's single word is quiet. Although at least one slender redhead would be loathed to admit it, the way she slips her feet free of her shoes and tucks her feet up on the bench beside her with her arms tucking around her body, it's evident in the moves of her body that she's not only also focusing her mild vexation on the eggs, but looks in need of a cuddle. Clearly, she's not looking to get that from Yaromil, but her arms seem to be hugging her in a way that might mean they're holding together or hold in some bursting part of her. "I was told it's different. That this is… like the picture on the cover, sometimes similar, or misleading, and the dragon is the whole book." Or at least, that's what Tej took away from things. Anyone want to lay bets which other harper she's been talking with? "They all make me feel things. If there was one that spoke to me, I'd feel… I don't know. Better?" She squints at the eggs, perplexed. "What does it mean when they all inspire you? They can't all be my lifemate, right?" RIGHT. That's not really a question. She is pressing her lips together when she turns her face a little toward Yaromil, expression lost (and if he had a heart, he might care), "Is there any one that … resonates with you?" How does a person even find words for things so… indescribable?

Honestly, Yaromil probably wouldn't know what to do if Tej did admit she was in need of a cuddle. Probably offer the world's most awkward back pat before fleeing in terror from a SURE TO BE TRAP. For now though, he's keeping his hands to himself, clasped in front of him as he leans forward, elbows on legs as if body weight will help keep them from shaking. "I'm not sure how I'd feel about a misleading dragon." There's a hint of a smile at that, as if he's attempting to joke about his own stubborn preferences. As for her own question, the man shrugs. "I wouldn't know. Maybe you and your's will be the peace keeper among the clutch if you do impress?" If he sounds doubtful, that's probably just all the sevens of constant needling the two have had that's coloring his own opinion on the likelihood of that. "There's a few… the sand, the fire… these are things I know well." Things he might even be a little fond of.

ANOTHER DAY, they can poke that trap. Just now, Tejra seems… well, not content, generally, but at least resigned to her sole comfort being her arms. That is, until a little puff of cold air heralds another tiny comfort - blue, this time, that flutters down to land on her lap. Sometimes, firelizards can be useful and intuitive. Tesko is rescuing Yaromil from having to put himself out with his awkward patting prowess. Her fingers automatically sink to find the soothing feel of blue hide under hand and it's only a few little stroke before she's reaching into a pocket to withdraw a tiny glass jar with a screw-top lid. "I gather you don't end up with much of a choice but to love them, even if you don't like them, misleading or no." Tej's reply is actually candid and lacks the snark - maybe even there's a glimmer of appreciation for his attempt at humor. The snort is actually humor and not derision as she rolls her eyes in the process of looking at Yaromil again. "I'm sorry, it seems we've not met. I'm Tej," she says it all slowly as if he's, well, slow, but there's a warmth to her pale gaze and a hint of a smile that's gently teasing rather than obtrusively obnoxious. But really, can he see her or any dragon that might willingly choose her as peace keepers? Perhaps he needs another check by the healers to be allowed on the Sands come hatching time. She tips her head a little, eyes finding the eggs in question. "There are some that make me want to dance, but I don't suppose Raaneth would much care for that, around her eggs." Even if Tejra may be trusted not to fall, almost ever.

Another day because surely there would need to be some alcohol involved for poking of that trap. Too bad for Tejra that Yaromil doesn't drink. At least he hasn't in all the time he's been at the Weyr even before candidacy was a thing. He nods in agreement about the lack of choice. "Don't figure a dragon would chose a rider that wouldn't love them." At least he hasn't heard of any and presumably he may have asked a few questions here and there when assigned dragon scrubbing. He raises an eyebrow as Tejra reintroduces herself. "And I'm Yaro…. and isn't constructive arguing a thing? What you harpers call a debate?" so maybe he has the tiniest bit of faith that she could turn her evil powers to good. "If they were completely against dancing on the sands, they wouldn't be making us wear sandals come hatching day." That hot foot shuffle might as well be a dance.

If it involved alcohol to accomplish, Tej looks like maybe she'd actually prefer that day be THIS day. In lieu of alcohol, however, the redhead is unscrewing the little vial and dabbing some oil onto Tesko's note-smattered hide. "Maybe you'll get a dragon just like me," she offers the terrifying thought in a way that seems out-of-hand. Maybe Tej doesn't have to work at it to be terrifying? "Oh, Yaro, is it now?" She lets one brow rise at him as her fingers work down the blue in soothing little circles. "I thought it was Puss." They were doing so well. THEY WERE. "Sure, you can constructively argue, if you like. I much prefer when it devolves into messy mud-flinging with tears and hearts left shattered in the wake." Only, for a second, it looks like maybe she doesn't actually prefer that always. Maybe she only likes it when she can walk away from it. She sighs, "Maybe you'll get a lifemate who likes the constructive kind. Then you can discuss the meaning of words every day, all day." Abruptly, she's rising and depositing Tesko (who quite trustingly tumbles right into Yaro's lap) into the other candidate's lap. "Here, hold Tesko a moment. He likes it when you rub his chest and he's ticklish under the jaw." She's walking away then, but not far, crouching down the row a ways and pulling out a very small ceramic jar, complete with lid. It's only once she's back with the warm vessel where Tesko was before, that oil secreted away again, that she tilts her head at Yaro and inquires, "Are you worried at all?" It briefly shows in Tejra's face that yes, indeed, she is, and she doesn't try to hide that, perhaps just so she won't have to say it aloud in return question.

"I think you're a bit small to be a dragon," Yaromil manages to keep a completely deadpan face as he even holds out a hand to drive home just how lacking in the height department she might be. He manages to keep the super-serious face on as she turns to a bit of inquisition of names. "Figured I'd save you a bit of time." All that time from saying the extra syllable of -mil. His face finally does crack the tiniest of smiles at the arguing as he spreads his arms in a helpless gesture. "I'm from Igen. We tend to have a lack of mud." So constructive arguments he's clung to. The abrupt hand off of the firelizard is met with a confused blink, but he's not about to let the creature tumble to the ground and possible injury. As Tejra walks away, he follows the instructions and there may even be a soft little cooing as one might do to try and calm a frightened runner. He drops the soft sounds as soon as he hears Tejra's footsteps returning and looks up, eyeing the jar a bit suspiciously, but he focuses on the question instead. "It's normal to be worried about what you can't control." That would be a yes, even if he didn't precisely say it. Surely harpers can read between lines.

"Maybe even more so… If you'd wish you could." Tejra admits quietly, clearing her throat. THEY DIDN'T JUST HAVE A MOMENT, IT'S FINE. NO ONE LOOK. She shifts in her seat. "I noticed that you've not got one." She gestures to Tesko before looking up to Yaromil. Contrary to popular belief and frequent evidence, the redheaded harper can be both thoughtful and kind. It's part of her charm(ing way of completely confusing the shell out of anyone who thinks they've got her pegged, nyah nyah~). "Easier to keep in touch with whatever might be important to you, or just have a way if you end up in a hard spot, if you've a well-trained one." As hers actually are. She unlids the pot with only the smallest of harper flourishes (THIS IS SERIOUS, AFTER ALL). Within are two miniature eggs. Compared to their wildly enormous brethren on the sands, these might seem laughably tiny. "Pirouette's a green, so they're most like to be nothing shiny." That's dissembling, this is what a briefly awkward Tej looks like Yaromil. Memorize it. You may not live to see it again. "Would you like one?" A beat. "It's her first clutch, I think." Special. "They ought to hatch soon, I think. I had a dragonhealer look them over for me." So she's probably not sticking him with some strange, deformed or demented firelizard. Probably.

Yaromil won't mention the moment if she doesn't! Luckily, the man has a lap full of firelizard to attend to when he's busy not acknowledging emotions. Even as he's busy scritching the little blue's chest and jaw with hands that seem made for it, he is still definitely listening and one of his eyebrows keep rising as Tejra keeps going on. He blinks at the offer. "Are you sure?" He just has to make sure because although particularly mean spirited practical jokes hadn't made an appearance before, he does know the harper to be fairly mercurial. "It would help, if I go trading again. Never know when you might get stuck in a storm." He can certainly acknowledge the practicality of the offering.

There's a slightly impatient toss to Tejra's head. It's not even a full gesture, just enough movement of her chin and shift of the plait her hair is frequently kept in to suggest the idea of it and offer the correct impression. "Yes. If there's anything I've come to sort out, Puss, it's that you're an exceptionally serious fellow and I'm quite sure you'll care for whatever comes out of that egg." He's a trustworthy choice that way. "So," she gestures to the pair settled in the sand. "Which would you like? We can take them back to the barracks now that they've been warming a while, find you a something for yours, unless it hatches on the way." That part might be a joke… but is it? One couldn't guess by the look on the harper's face. "I find that people are so much more lively to poke at when they're not dead from hypothermia or sandstorms." That's said deadpan, but no, really, Yaro. Pick an egg. She means it.

As an exceptionally serious and deliberate fellow, Yaromil just has to make sure. Do firelizard eggs communicate like dragon eggs do? Probably not, but the man has no way of knowing so he's very hesitant as he slowly reaches out to gentle feel both of the hardened shells. Whatever he feels, it's clearly not the kick in the emotional gut he might have been expecting, but he's settled anyway. "That one." He points to the bluer of the two eggs. "And thank you." It's not a phrase he says lightly, so Tejra can be sure that he means those words. "Do you want me to carry them?" It'll require a little bit of juggling since Tesko's seemed to have melted into his hands, but surely he can manage. It's not a long walk back to the candidate barracks after all. "Heat stroke is probably more likely for me." Look, he can even joke too, sometimes.

Tejra's eyes narrow at the Igenite, whisking the lid back on the jar and tucking it close against her chest. "No." WAS IT A JOKE AFTER ALL? BE STILL HIS HEART. But no, all the redhead says with an up-tick of her chin is, "I can manage just fine, thank you. You carry Tesko. He's heavier anyway." Probably not true, but Tesko does seem to have fallen prey to the power of non-awkward-patting fingers. Maybe there's hope for Yaromil yet.

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