Why Care?

High Reaches Weyr - North Bowl
The bowl is a mix of bare patches of darkly hued stone and grittier bits of dust and pebbles that are slowly evening out the bowl floor. This area of the bowl seems slightly higher on average. A larger shadowed archway cuts strikingly into the dark stone of the bowl wall to the northwest, the entrance to the hatching grounds. Those new pairs coming from such grounds do not have far to go to get to the barracks. The barracks are two large rectangular stone buildings. Slate roofing tiles angle steeply down from the junction of the barracks with the bowl wall, and overhang enough to offer some protection for anyone peeking out of the large doorways from the weather outside. The doorways are not nearly as big as the archway to the hatching grounds, but are passable by fully grown beasts none the less. Wooden doors are covered by a thin sheet of copper which roll open and closed as needed. Designs which may have at one time adorned these doors are faded both by weather and by the dents and scratches of overeager younglings.
The bawling rustle of the herds waking in the distance carry across the bowl. Weyrlings and residents begins to move about to handle morning chores. Winter has settled in. Gravel has been sprinkled on the icy paths most frequently traveled here, and there are quite a number of such paths where resident and dragon amble despite the weather. A thin veil of fog covers the world, smudging harsh reality in a vaporous embrace. It obscures the distance into a mesh of gray without endangering the visibility of traveling within one's immediate vicinity.

Mid-morning and the fog is only just beginning to lift but leaves much of the Weyr obscured and hazy. It's getting colder too, with winter now settling in. Fog is likely welcomed over the snows that will no doubt be coming soon. Eodarin isn't sure if she likes any of it! She traded Ista's sun and warmth for this? At least she has some sense and is bundled up against the chill as she trudges through the bowl, squinting in the pale mid-morning light as she makes her way back from the stables. She's probably on her way to the caverns in hopes to snatch a bite to eat now that her first shift of work is done.

Ed'ard is working over Dnocesth's straps, checking the fit in the morning breeze before he lifts his head slightly glancing at the blue. "You're sure she's out here in this mess?" He pauses in his work to glance at the fog making it all but impossible to see much beyond and shrugs. "I'll take your word for it then, you lump. Eodarin. You out here in this foggy morning?" is basically yelled into the air.

Eodarin stops dead in her tracks when a seemingly disembodied voice calls out her name. Not that it takes her long to pinpoint the obvious form of a dragon and its rider. Fog or not, she's not entirely stupid! "Who wants to know?" she calls back brazenly. Movement again and she starts to approach, hands jammed into the pockets of the too big jacket she wears. "And why's it matter if I'm out here or not?" That is added belatedly, before she realizes just who it is she's speaking to.

Ed'ard frowns a bit more. "Because it's cold and you could get lost. It's not like you've been here all that long." Ed'ard looks suspicious and then slightly guilty as he does so. "I mean. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you or nothing. Your mother would probably have my head or something." is mumbled just quietly enough to be heard. Dnocesth just rumbles a happy greeting, pleased to be recognized.

"I know the paths to and from the stables! If I get lost in a wide, open bowl… that'd be pretty sad." Come on! Give her some credit? Eodarin wrinkles her nose and doesn't exactly pout but almost seems disappointed to be treated like she's incapable of watching her own back. She huffs, "If mother was worried, she'd not have let me come here. Don't worry yourself! It's just fog. Not like I'm near any cliffs?" Probably… a poor joke given past events but how is she to know? Dnocesth rumbling earns a wide smile and a little wiggle of her fingers at him in a sort of playful wave. Hey, you! Then it's back to mock scowling at her father. "What're you doing out in this fog?" she counters.

Ed'ard waves absently toward Dnocesth. "We've got sweeps in just a few minutes" and as what Eodarin says catches up with him he pales slightly. "Don't even say that. That was one of Denny's picks that fell. And even if the ways of gold dragons are mysterious to me. She was a goldrider." He draws himself up short before shaking his head. "Ah, to not have to worry about the riders. That would be a nice thing. But I always do, if Dnocesth chooses them to stand."

Eodarin's eyes widen. "You're both going to fly in this mess?" And he's getting on HER case for walking across a bowl? There's a visible wince when she seems to have struck a cord and looks properly chagrin for her blunder. "I didn't know someone… That a goldrider died like that. Sorry." No more jokes of cliffs and falling — not in his earshot, at least. Her hands remain jammed in her pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold she's still adjusting too. "Why?" she asks, brows knitting again as she peers at her father. "Do you worry for them?"

Ed'ard was looking with Denny, out over the bowl before he turns back. "Well, of course. We've been flying in this for turns. Sort of what we do." He stops and tries to think of a way to say it. "Denny picks them to stand. They wouldn't be out there but that Dnocesth and I asked them to be. How can you not worry about someone after that?" He waves a hand. "I'm sure not like the weyrlingmaster does or anything. But still, we ask them to come and be a dragonrider and all that comes with it and you don't always think of the bad that comes with the good, although Denny's a lot of good."

Eodarin rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue as if frustrated when she really isn't. She's just being a bit of a brat. Could be because she hasn't really eaten? "Figured you fly," Duh? He's a dragon rider! "Just didn't think you'd go out in fog too — oh, right. Guess it doesn't matter." Someone missed that part of her lessons as a little kid, or she wasn't paying attention. "Dunno. Just seems funny to me that you would worry over a Candidate. How well do you even get to know them?" So many questions, so little time!

Ed'ard laughs. "We fly in all sorts of weather. Not all of it is pretty stuff for looking around." He is quiet for a long moment. "Well, they're here for quite a while, waiting on the eggs. And longer too if they find a partner on the sands. So you get to know them. I can't say as I knew both of the goldriders now gone really well. Not like we were friends or anything. But they do help run the weyr and such so I'd run into them." He straightens slightly. "What have they got you working on then, now that you're here?"

Eodarin's brows knit but it's obvious she's absorbing everything and mulling it over. She smirks, "I know that a rider is more than being pretty and glamorous. Mother made sure I knew that early on!" Plus growing up in a Weyr sort of… opens ones eyes. Even if she had a lapse in memory. "Oh. I think I get it now. You know them but aren't particularly close but it's enough." To care. That'll be something she'll have to chew over some more later. A shrug is given to his question. "Stablehand for now but I'll take whatever I can get. I don't mind it though! Even with the early wake up."

Dnocesth shifts slightly as he turns his head to look around the bowl, before he settles back. "No, no. Can't say as I know very many of the riders here personally that I'd call friends. But If you're ever a rider you'll know. You go to fight with these same folks. So of course you worry about them. And I think it's just the slip and fall. Not that thread wouldn't have been as sudden, but you're prepared more for that I think." He laughs. "You don't want to be stablehand the rest of your life? Looking after the beasties? Can't say as I blame you. What do you have plans for then?"

"I — think I can understand what you mean," Eodarin drawls hesitantly as she does her best to wrap her head around the concept. There's another grimace, "Yeah." she agrees simply, realizing now how sobering it is to think of how easily one's life can just end, be it prepared or not. She quickly shakes that off though and grins toothily. "Maybe, maybe not? It's good work and I like the runners and I don't seem to do terrible at the work. Why, you think I can't keep up with it?" Is that a challenge? No? Hmph. Chuckling, she spreads her hands outwards with a quick shrug of her shoulders. "Don't know if I have plans? Kind of just, heh, making it up as I go along. Planning seems silly."

Ed'ard leans against Dnocesth for a moment before nodding. "Well, planning isn't always silly. Helpful to have ideas of what you want to do or what you think you want to do next. I mean, I've always got scribe work I can do on the off days and such and because of that, I also get sent with dispatches." He shakes his head slightly before looking up once more at the sky. "But, I do have to do sweeps, or I will be in a lot of trouble with O'mohe and he's always testy lately with asinine competitions he's got going with K'llian. Dunno what Sazey's doing, pitting those to against each other."

Eodarin wrinkles her nose and for a brief moment is like any typical rebellious teenager. "I've got my work as stablehand but if there's no work there, I'll do what the Headwoman gives me." Or whatever she figures she can dare to ask to do. She could talk back and forth like this all day with him but he has his sweeps and she has breakfast to scrounge up. "Won't keep you. You and Dnocesth will be safe?" Look who's worried now! Mention of the Weyrleaders and some bickering has her eyes widening a bit. Ooh, is that so? But his guess is as good as hers — she has very little knowledge of the politics brewing here, still being so fresh from Ista. "Won't get you into trouble neither." It's her way of saying 'bye', her hand lifting into a sort of mock salute as she begins to take a few backward hopping steps. Then with a parting grin, she turns and is gone again into the lifting fog.

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