The Lower Caverns was rather crowded. After all, it was getting very close to Turn's End, and preperations had to be made. The halls were the busiest, with people sliding past eachother and children running around and seemingly *trying* to be underfoot. You slid past a pair of them, standing against the wall and eating bubbly pies across from the kitchens. You give them a wave and continue on. Those bubbly pies look rather tempting, and who's to say that you don't deserve one after all of the lugging around of laundry you just did. You step in through the kitchen door...

And stop short as a young woman runs into you. She curses rather colorfully and stumbles backwards. You reach out a hand to steady her, but one of the cooks grabs her hand and yanks her back upright. The cook gives both of you an annoyed look and hurries past towards the back of the kitchens. Your eyes follow him, glad that he wasn't carrying anything that he could have swatted you with.

"What a night for travel duty!" You talk more to yourself than anyone as you amble across the Weyr Bowl, three or four extra fur blankets piled in your arms. The wind bites through your wher-hide coat, and the early Turn coldness nips at your ears. You start towards a familiar weyr, frowning to yourself in recognition. She's the last person you need on such a night.

The dragon cavern you enter is rather small, and quite bare. The usual decorative, warmth-keeping tapestries are missing, though there are holes in the walls that prove the fact that this weyr once belonged to someone with some sort of wealth. The dragon couch is empty, only white shadows dancing across it in the moonlight, giving the illusion of movement it seems. Light is shining around the thick curtain covering the entrance to the sleeping chamber, testifying that the small weyr is occupied. You walk through the cavern, your hide boots clunking loudly on the stone floor. You can just imagine your warm Lower Caverns room awaiting you... with a crackling fire...

Just as you reach the curtain, it is swept aside and a figure walks through... and collides with you. The furs you were carrying drop to the floor, and you stumble backwards. The small figure you collided with scrambles to their feet, then stands up slowly...

"You again, eh? I see Landara's little snipes finally came around to offer us some furs for us, we'll likely freeze in this weather!" It takes you a moment, then you absorb the fact that some poor creature actually picked this young woman. It's dark, but you can just make out the fact that she's once again staring at you over her glasses.

You shake your head with a frown in her direction, then slowly bend down to pick up the dropped furs. You shake them out as you do so. "It's not my decision. The cold's snapping at me enough, so you don't need to as well." You stand up, the frown still on your face. If she was going to be so rude then there was no need for you to be very nice.

She grins wryly at you. "You speak, eh? Nice attitude." She turns and walks back into the small weyr, apparently expecting you to follow her in. You do so, despite yourself. She's not the nicest person you've ever met, the the chamber is bound to be warmer than outside.

"Here are the extra furs for you, as well as a few more for your dragon. Headwoman Landara asked a few of us to pass them out among a few of the new riders because she said she took the heavy winter ones back, not expecting the weather to stay so chilled..." You trail off as her expression changes slowly.

Instead of her callous look of a few minutes ago, it has been replaced with a look that can only be described as guilty. She manages a weak smile, biting her lower lip. "Ohh... thanks..." Her smile fades and she takes the fur from you, then walks over and begins to lay it down on the floor next to her bed. It's not that you realize what was odd about her earlier, other than her attitude. Her gait is crooked, and she limps on her left foot.

"Yes, Damiath. I know, I know." She frowns suddenly, standing upright and looking to the other side of the room. You hadn't even noticed when you'd walked in, the white moonlight had cast only shadows in the outer weyr. Now, however, a white head was poking in through the curtain. She, at least you assume it's a she, looks so ghostly in the moonlight. You'd only heard of white dragons, you'd never actually seen one.

You feel a pang of guilt yourself. This young dragon must be such a handful. You can only begin to imagine what must come in hand with taking care of such a special being. Also, her rider is kinder than some you've seen. After all, would a dragon so special chosen her if she didn't have a better side? Then again, no one knows how large that better side is... "Would you like some help with that?" You set the remaining furs down on the table, the only other piece of furniture in the room, and walk over to her.

She shakes her head, yanking the fur away when you try to grab a corner. "No, that's alright. I can get it." She manages another weak smile, then straightens from bending over as she finishes setting the last corner even. She watches you for a moment as you walk back towards the furs. "Umm... would you like to stay for a while? I mean, I know you're probably busy, but..."

Damiath croons happily, ducking her head and moving the upper half of her body into the weyr. She has an ackward gait as well, walking on all fours and hopping lightly because of her shorter front arms. She curls her head up in her forearms, then sits to watch the two of you.

You can't help but grin wryly to yourself. First she treats you like a wherry on the Hatching Grounds, now she's guilty and trying to be nice. She was failing at it, but her dragon's adorable behavior seems to pull you into it. Besides, from the annoyed looks that continuely cross the young woman's face you can tell that most of her kinder suggestions must be coming from young Damiath. You nod, say a muttered 'thank you', and then walk over and crouch down by the hearth, seeing as there's not a chair in the entire room.

She sits on the bed, wrapping her legs underneath herself and watching you. She seems to fidget for a moment as the silence stretches between the two of you. "My name is Majourn..." She trails off as you say your name, your face finally warming up from the frozen outside. "Sorry for... uh... being so rude, earlier that is..." She seems to stutter through the apology, as if it isn't something she's used to doing. You can guess she's definitely not.

"I suppose I'm just having a tough time around here, as if that's any good of an excuse." She continues, glaring at the air, and it seems as if it's not aimed at you or more of herself. "I've been here for a while, but they'd been moving me around lately. I'm a dragonrider, though I suppose that's just a bit obvious..." She grins wryly as you chuckle. "Dami's just so small that they keep moving us out of the bigger weyrs. We finally ended up back here, at my ol' Candidate weyr. Ironic, sort of."

"Sort of..." You turn your face towards her, nodding your head, still holding your hands out to the fire. You wish she had a chair you could sit on. "Did you come from the Hold before Impressing? Might account for some uneasiness or something."

"Not really..." She shakes her head, staring off at the fire. "I had an accident in one of the islands. Broke my leg and the person who came to help was a dragonrider." That explains her limp. "Got Searched, figured it was better than what was waiting for me back with my family."

You keep your steady gaze on her, but she must have noted the curious look on your face. "If I decided not to accept that Candidate thing, I was going to go back home where I'd resume my 'training' to be Captain of my mother's ship, the Red Star Rising." You notice how she drawls out the word 'training'. "A banged-up scooner with a cabin that seems about as big as a garment chest." She winces. "Much too small for my taste..."

You look around the weyr again, noting its simplicity. Then you turn your eyes back to her. She's young, maybe eighteen or so. Much to young to take on the responsibility of being Captain, though from what you've heard it takes as long as studying a craft to master a ship. What did she have to look forward to with another decade or so of this 'training'? This was such an empty weyr, did she stay here alone with Damiath out in the dragon cavern?

At your inquiry she grins, a lop-sided gesture with her pouty lips. "Well, I've no real pets to speak of, but I've got Gill." She chuckles at your raised eyebrow. "He's m'friend. He was with me for the accident, so he came along with me to the Weyr. He's got a cousin 'round here, a bluerider. Damiath simply loves them, can't get enough of seeing Gill and R'nyx."

The mention of a dragonrider somehow brings you back to your senses, and you remember your previous task. You're not quite warmed up, and your hands have thawed out quite well. You stand up and head back to the table and she seems to take the hint rather quickly.

"Well, it was a pleasure to meet you Majourn, and Damiath as well. I..." You trail off at the look she gives you.

"Don't say that, I was a tunnel-snake. If it hadn't been for Damiath when she was awake I pro'ly would've thrown you out." She grins wryly, nodding towards the curtain. Damiath is gone, and you can hear the soft sound of sleeping breath. "If it makes you feel any better, though I doubt it, I talk the same way to Gill." She shrugs her thin shoulders, pushing her narrow glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose. She avoids looking into your eyes, and instead runs a slender hand through her hair.

You can't help but grin to yourself as you leave the weyr. She has a sharp temper, and apologies don't seem to be something she practices often. At least she shows a bit of humanity, she's as transparent as her glasses when she feels guilty. Well, there's not much you can do to try and round out her humor, but there is something you can do for some of the weyrlings and dragonets who are cold because of their weyrs, not necessarily their attitudes... though both can change with time. Perhaps Dami can figure out just what needs to be changed about the young woman.

Journey: Majourn's Accident
Destination: Majourn's Search
Traveler: Majourn's Stats

Jerdan Weyr
Where Majourn Impressed Damiath

Visit the other dragonriders...
or
Go back to the Weyr Bowl.

Roses credited to D~mentia!