Finding Worth

Xanadu Weyr - Observation Level
Dark blue seats form a semi-circle around the sands below, the lowest row separated from the multicolored red and white sands by merely a railing. The seats climb upwards, each row a bit higher than the previous, and they are broken up into sections by three sets of staircases. Between the first and second section, a glass wall descends to separate the observers from the heat of the sands. Air is kept in motion through a set of fans, and so these seats are quieter and cooler than the rest… though the noise and heat of the sands is still present.
Lights are evenly spaced along the outer wall, lighting the seats and the sands easily, though they tend to be dimmed unless a major event is taking place. A large balcony overhead connects to the glass wall. Vents for cooling run along the bottom of it, and the ledge provides a place for observers of the draconic kind to watch without obstructing the view for others.
The sand below is variegated in hue, individual grains of red and white that have a pinkish hue when seen from across the circle of the hatching grounds but - up close over that railing - are clearly two varieties mingled.

On a regular day, the gallery area above the sands is a fairly quiet place to settle. Only a few people pass now and again to take a look at the eggs, one of which seems to be Maorin. A non-fishy smelling Maorin. He makes a point not to put his hands on any of the glass, having chosen to stay in the comfort of the back rows where things are certainly less..sweltering. Instead he's picked a seat, simply leaning forward somewhat to look at that small area laden with eggshaped lumps.

Physical training must be over for the day, because here's Quillan, still wearing his PT outfit, and looking somewhat mucky as he pokes his head into the observation level. His clothes are sweaty and muddy, and he's rubbing his hair down with a hand towel as he ascends the steps, continuously looking over his shoulder to see the dam on the sands. By the time he's halfway up he spots Maorin, and he makes his way further up to enter the row below where he's sitting. "Hey, Fishboy. You done with chores already?"

Fishboy? Really? The name gets a slow headturn from Maorin, brows lifted curiously. It even takes him a moment to understand that Quill is in fact referring to him! That realization has his eyes slowly going up and down the other boy's form. "Well hey there, uh…Mudbutt." If there's going to be strange name calling going on, he's going to participate! His lips quirk though, shoulders lifting. "I guess they are. Rider I was following around told me to scoot on off, so I went and scooted. Figured I'd come take a look here and see what I'm getting into, ya know?"

"Mudbutt? Really?" Quillan doesn't look at all impressed by the attempted name-calling. "If you're going to pick a nickname, pick a good one. That's never gonna stick." He flops down into a seat, sitting side-on so he can see Maorin and the clutch, too. "Yeah, I think we're done with PT for the day. It's a bit muddy out there." As is evident by the state of his clothing. "What d'you think of riding, then?"

Maorin is, alas, not a professional name-caller. He shrugs though, not seeming to mind in the least. "Think of it? I dunno, seems like a good thing. Riders help people, and that seems like a life worth something." There's a glance over at the other boy, head tilting. "Can see that. Managed to avoid it today, but it's always something different on that board come the morning."

Quillan gives Maorin a curious look. "So you want to be a rider because it'll make your life worth something?" He stops to think about it for a moment, before his expression shifts from curiosity to mild frustration and non-understanding. "How's that figure? It can't be that your life is worth nothing now, even if you like to roll around in fish. Fishboy."

There is a rather sudden burst of laughter from the teen, and Maorin brings up a hand to rub at the corner of an eye. "What? Oh, no. No that's not what I meant at all. I want what I /do/ to mean something. To help how I can? Like before, working on a ship. Sure, we delivered stuff places, but I wanna be able to do more than that. Being a healer would do it, sure. But riders do the same thing. Some of them, anyway. That's what I've got my eye on. I know /I'm/ worth it. Even if you do keep calling me..that."

"Because that sounds really so different?" Quillan doesn't get it. He scratches fingers through his damp hair, then rests an arm over the back of his seating row to lean against it. "So you want to heal people and ride a dragon? Is that right? I don't see why you don't just apprentice to the Healer craft and get it over and done with. Isn't that the easier way to get what you want?"

"Well of course it's different." Maorin still at least sounds amused by it, and leans back into his chair comfortably. "I can't explain it any better than that though, sorry. If this doesn't work out, then sure, the healer craft is the way for me. But you can't tell me that you don't see the appeal of this way, too. You wouldn't be here. After all, you really seem to like up stuff."

Quillan snorts. "Yeah, but I'm not here to blow them," he jerks a thumb down towards the sands, "up. I'm only doing this to piss my mum off. She'll have kittens if she thinks I'm on the sands with the chance of getting mauled, and that's exactly why I'm here. She doesn't own me." He's rebelling. "Look, Fishboy, I would've just said say you're here for a dragon, or say you want to be a Healer to help people. Don't cross lines. Say what it is."

There is finally a slight frown that smooths Maorin's features downward. "I said what it is. It's not my fault if you don't get it." Shoulders lift, and his head cants to the side once more to look at the eggs. "Can't say I think much of it if you're doing all of this just to get back at a parent though. Seems kinda…petty?"

A shrug of Quillan's shoulders is accompanied by a smirk. "Yeah, maybe it is. But if I've got a dragon here, then there's no way she's going to drag me back to Igen. If I've gotta dragon here, then it's ding, dong, the witch is dead… long live the new-minted bronzerider." He blows on his nails, then buffs them against his shirt… which only makes them dirty again - not that he notices. "I'm just saying it as it is. Nothing wrong with a bit of pettiness."

Maorin just watches Quillan for a moment, then finally turns in his seat to face the other candidate. He leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "Just how old are you, anyway? What do you mean by..drag you back? I left home a few turns back, nobody can /make/ you do anything. You don't need a tether here to make that work. You choose to do it, you do it. That's the end of it."

"You, Fishboy, have never met my mother." Quillan picks a twig off his trousers, flicking it down under a chair. "And until you meet my mother, you won't know what she's like. She makes even the toughest bastards' balls crawl back up in them." He looks up at Maorin with his eyes narrowed, analysing him. "What happened to your face?"

Maorin smiles slowly, shoulders lifting in a shrug. "Then that's your problem to deal with, I guess. Nobody's going to make me so frightened I won't speak up for myself." The question has him blinking however, staring back at Quillan. "Huh. And here I heard you'd made up your own answer for that." Oh yes, people talk. And he's already /heard/. Still, a brow raises ever so slightly, and he smiles again. At least he doesn't seem to /mind/ telling. "Last ship I was on.. I have no idea what the cargo was, still. One minute everything was normal, next minute - fire and stuff blowing up."

"Heh. Your ship blew up? Sucks to be you." Although he's not outright laughing, there is a cheek smirk tugging at the corners of Quillan's mouth. "So what, it blew you all the way to wherever you said you're from? Why'd you stand so close, anyway? That's a pretty dumb thing to do, Fishboy."

"I'll keep that in mind for the next time I'm in a sudden explosion." Maorin shakes his head just a bit though, before righting himself in his seat again, then stands. "Not all the way, no. Just into the water with the rest of the wreckage and bodies. All okay though. Picked up a couple days later and taken to Monaco." He stretches then, arms reaching out above his head. "Anyway. I'm gonna get in for dinner." A farewell? Not at all. The teen simply turns and heads right out.

"You'll be right at home in the hall tonight - I heard they're serving fish." Quillan snorts, dropping his feet back down so he's sitting properly, which enables him to watch Maorin's descent. "Try not to roll about in it though, hrm? I don't imagine they look kindly at folks who make mealtime their wallowing time."

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