|
|
|
"Shaffit, Zam! I'd like to think that I'm old enough to be able to make my own decisions. I haven't been a weyrbrat for Turns!" Wyxa turned her dark eyes on her brother, annoyance rather than anger taking its place there. "I'm well aware, Wyx. But *Candidacy*? You're an Apprentice Dragonhealer! Have been for nearly five Turns! You can't seriously tell me you're going to drop it just to go in and act like a silly wherry until the next Hatching comes along." Zamfin sat back on his sister's bed. They were in her support staff room down the hall from th side entrance of the Infirmary, the same hall that all dragonhealers resided at- even her brother. "Have you ever known me to act like a wherry?" Wyxa grinned at him, pulling open the chest at the end of her bed. Zam pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. "For my own health I refuse to answer that question. You're bigger than I am." This earned him a laugh from his sister. Zamfin looked fairly strong from where he sat, but when he stood up he was a good five inches shorter than his younger sister. "Besides, you've seen the Candidates. They either prance around like they own the place or turn into hermits and don't come out of their new weyrs until the Hatching. Frightening little creatures if you ask me..." He trailed off, picking up his small notepad and pencil that he carried around after his shift in the Infirmary. "The Candidates or the dragonets?" Wyxa grinned at him, then turned back to her trunk with a shake of her head. "Besides, you're bound to say that Zam. After all, you turned down your own chance to Stand. How long ago was it... two Turns?" "Three. And I think I made a bloody good choice, thank you very much. Better than the one you're making now." Though his tone was disapproving, it didn't carry the same tone as earlier. When she first told him that she'd been Searched and was becoming a Candidate, he'd chided her as if she were still switching the numbweed jars with the jam. Then again, it was pretty funny to see the Weyr Staff try to talk with their tongues numb... "I think it's a perfectly good choice, and don't think you can talk me out of it. S'vir's been a Searchrider longer than I've been alive, and that's a long time!" Wyxa nodded, pulling the last of her sparce but efficient wardrobe out of the trunk and setting it in her large bag. "Seventeen Turns isn't as long as you think, dearling..." Zamfin's wry voice was all she could hear, his face was hidden behind the open lid of her trunk. "Besides, S'vir can hardly see he's so old. Poor Trempith hasn't Searched anyone in five Turns!" "Well, he's starting back up again." She closed the trunk, standing up and taking a deep breath. "Well, are you coming with me to see my new weyr? It's as normal as they come, but it's fairly cozy. The bed's a bit harder, but you'll live." "Hold on, I'm almost done." It was only know that she realized that he'd been drawing this entire time. The Apprentice leaned over her Journeyman brother's shoulder. "Done with what?" "There!" He made one final swipe with his charcoal pencil then rolled over and sat up. "Behold, as soon as Wilmseth clutches... behold your new lifemate!" He held up the picture, a devillish grin on his face.
"Zamfin you tunnel snake!" Wyxa was up and over the bed, chasing him out the door. He was quicker than her, though, and had expected her reaction. He'd bolted as soon as he held up the picture. "Zam you coward! I'll teach you to pick on dragons you wherry! Maybe one of 'em would like to have a midday snack." "They'd have to catch me first, and if they're anything like you I think I'm safe!" His laughter trailed off as the two raced down the hall. Then a few moments later the silence was ended from somewhere near the kitchens. "Ow! Shaffit, Wyx, that hurt!"
Back to Wyxa's weyr From Every Egg Comes a Shard Picking up the Pieces
Wyxa is a Candidate at: Shard was Impressed at:
Back to the other weyrfolk... or Back to the Weyr Bowl. !~Don't steal my bunny dragon! If you really want one that bad than tell me and I'll give you one. *g*~! |
