The Summons (Nwalme)

[Bacchante]

B’ach sat at his desk, rapping his fingers. A terrified councilman stood before him. “You have greatly exceeded your authority. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? It was a Ghostrider who fetched the girl, and my father is in charge of all of them. The news filtered up. You ordered her brought to the hold and placed her under the healer. You completely disregarded protocol. And all because your son thought she was pretty. Get out of my sight, worm. You are banished for two weeks to the East Steppe Hold. Guards, take him.” Two guards came in and led the man out, a third and older one waiting.

“You didn’t tell him that you knew.” The man wore the insignia of a Wingleader and didn’t bow his head before the Weyrleader. “No… I did not. His son never even met the girl. It was a blatant lie, and easily uncovered. I wish to find out who was behind it. In any case, I have summoned her. This plot has doomed her, in part, but what I have learned is… Intruiging. I will speak to her. Father, please bring her to me.” The Captain of the Guard nodded to his son. “As you wish.”

B’rac headed out of the Wraithweyr and into the passageway, moving on to the fifth ledge where his Ghost waited. He jumped on and tethered his tow line, then Ghresath leapt from the ledge, plummeting with practiced ease all the way to the third floor, his claws slamming into stone rungs carved into the walls and holding. He dropped free again, landing on the ledge and the going off it and under it, dropping to the lower one and spinning as he fell, cat-like, to land on the Second Level. B’rac jumped off, stumbling briefly from his dizziness but recovering quickly. Then he went forward, navigating his way to the quarters of the imported candidates.

The laws were adamant: Any not from Skrull were blindfolded during the first month of their stay whenever they traversed the shaft. For three months after that, they were still guarded. This one girl had been serving the Healer, who took her on eagerly. Not many wished to join that profession in Skrull, for reasons unknown. He navigated the twisting passages, moving by the intricately carved symbols on the walls, a spiral of circular lines that would be incomprehensible to one who had not been raised to understand the pattern. The map was everywhere, if you knew how to read it. In any case he came to the girl’s room and unlocked the door. It was midnight, so she would be there and probably alone. He didn’t care anyway, stepping in and calling out. “Nwalme! Come forth! The Weyrleader has ordered you to his presence.”

[pandoraMisfit]

Despite the late hour, Nwalme was awake still poring over the few scrolls she had been allowed to bring with her to her quarters. Few, as in two and allowed… well she certainly was allowed to study the one of human healing but dragon healing… well maybe allowed wasn’t quite the correct term. ‘Borrowed’, maybe for she certainly intended to return it, but hopefully before anybody noticed it had even gone. It wasn’t as though hoards of healers had flocked to the island, all clamouring to practice their craft here – she was fairly certain that the scroll would remain unmissed. Currently she was studying how to brew numbweed to the correct strength for thread-lance wounds, for both dragon and rider. A smelly business, but a chore she adored nonetheless. The fewer words exchanged, the less stink you got in your mouth.

The entry itself was pretty standard, a list of ingredients followed by instructions, the same as she had memorised by heart. But reading it again meant that the knowledge would burrow itself into her mind, becoming second nature eventually, or so she hoped. Stifling a yawn, Nwalme reread the list once more before tucking it back into the correct place within its cylinder, intent on finding something new to learn, to impress her tutor. Finding a passage on how to properly bind a broken wing was her intent, but much to her consternation, dark locks of hair kept falling forward to block her sight, no matter how many times she tucked them behind her ears. Glancing around her room, she spied her little clip, and lunged across the cot to reach it almost falling flat on the floor as she did so. Straightening herself up and snorting away her indignation, her ears perked, straining to hear any sound that she had disturbed a neighbour. Not a whisper. Good. Smoothing the offending locks back from her face, she twisted her hair and fixed it into place on the back of her head. Now the blasted stuff wouldn’t get in the way.

Settling herself back on the bed she unrolled another piece of hide from the dragon healing tube. A frown formed over her dark eyes as she scanned the text, finding nothing that she didn’t already know. Stretching out, she decided it was probably time to catch some sleep, as she wasn’t going to find what she was looking for tonight. Just as she was tucking the scroll underneath her furs she heard the latch on her door click and scrambled to hide it away before whomever it was entered. Colour suffused her pale cheeks as she turned to face the person who had entered. Her eyes lost the warm glow that had been present during her studies, taking on an icier cast. Keeping her eyelids lowered, she bowed as soon as she saw that it was B’rac who had deigned to disturb her. “Nwalme! Come forth! The Weyrleader has ordered you to his presence.” The voice grated on her nerves, as did the voices of most people in this seemingly forsaken place. Yet she HAD chosen it as her refuge.

Already dressed, the girl grabbed her dark grey cloak from the corner of her bed, putting it on in one smooth motion. She also picked up a thick piece of cloth from the table, wordlessly handing it to the Ghostrider. Despite having been at Skrull for nigh on two and a half months now, she still offered her sight on the travel through the shaft. Nwalme wasn’t even sure why she did it. There was a lingering sensation of not belonging still and this was probably a physical manifestation of that feeling. Handing the material to B’rac, she uttered her first words since he had entered the room, though no louder than a whisper. “Then I must go as swiftly as possible Sir.” The tone held the right amount of obeisance; yet still a quiver of her underlying strength remained, almost undetectable.

[Bacchante]

B’rac took the scrap of material and cast it aside. “That is not required.” He looked at her rumbled bedclothes, the still liquid candle, the slight lump under the blanket. ”And this is Skrull, not Crystal Caverns.” He walked over to the bed and tossed the sheets wide, picking up the leather tube. ”You need but ask, not steal. And you need not hide… The disappearance of this was noted hours ago, and attributed to you.” The grim man smiled at her. ”After my son is done with you, come see me. Perhaps we can see about getting you full access to the archives.”

With that, B’rac led the way out to Ghresath and helped the girl up on to him, pulling himself up behind her and tying them together by the waist: For safety and no more. He was far older than her, and happily mated with a wonderful woman. Besides, his security reports had informed him of her preferences. Without a word, the Ghost moved to the side of the shaft and began to climb rapidly, claws digging into stone rungs and holes as he vaulted up. The shaft was silent apart from the Ghost’s ascent and the sentries’ pace. Torches flickered in the gloom. After what seemed an age, but was probably less than twenty minutes of accelerated climbing, they reached the Fifth Level. ”B’ach waits for you. A word of advice: My son hates those who hide themselves. Don’t act fawning and obsequious. It doesn’t suit you.”

With that, B’rac lead her in. The Wraithweyr was dark, with only one torch lit behind a stone desk that was off to one side. A tremendous shape lay still to one side and the flickering light revealed flashes of bone-white with strange carvings all around. The room was cavernous, and the desk was in an open-air antechamber off to one side with a door behind it. In a stone chair, on a fur-stuffed pillow, sat the Weyrleader. The writhing shadows on his face didn’t help make him look any less intimidating, with the palest white skin possible being offset by dark, dark green eyes set deeply into his face so that they were almost invisible in the shadows. A scar roped down from his left temple to the bottom right of his jaw, passing over his nose where it had removed a small chunk and going between his eyes. His fair brown hair, a milky-brown of sorts, did nothing to alleviate the effect created by all these features and the scowl on his face.

”Father.” The apparition in the chair spoke and without a word B’rac walked away, leaving Nwalme alone in the dark chamber… With Him. The terrifying vision in the chair kept scowling at her, the faint expression visible in the dark giving the impression of a spider examining a particularly small fly.

”Tell me why you are here. Why have I called you before me?”

[pandoraMisfit]

At the slight brush of B’rac’s hand when he discarded the blindfold the dark haired girl stiffened visibly. Breathing deeply through her nostrils she allowed herself to relax once more. A side effect of her reclusive nature, she was unused to contact with other people, and though determined to start over, it wasn’t easy to let go of the past. In her mind most people… well they were out to hurt her. Reminding herself that this wasn’t so, for the umpteenth time since she had arrived here, she forced a smile onto her face, the action feeling unnatural around another person after so long of hiding her emotions. There was no longer need for it here, she kept being told; but old habits die hard.

Following the man’s gaze to her beds, Nwalme felt her cheeks colour once more, but upon hearing his words, the glow faded a little. This time the smile flowed unbidden onto her face, pure joy radiating at the prospect of being allowed to peruse the library at her leisure. He was right, this wasn’t Crystal Caverns, or any other weyr indeed. The likes of her hadn’t been allowed anywhere near such important documents. And yet here was the chance freely offered and sincere, if she could tell anything from his voice. Looking B’rac in the eye for the first time since she had met him, she smiled openly and thanked him. Maybe given time, she told herself, she could find a friend in this man.

Allowing herself to be strapped securely to the Ghost, silence enveloped the two once more. It wasn’t an awkward silence; it was in her nature to remain so. The ascent was uneventful, but as they neared the fifth level, trepidation began to build within her. She hadn’t met the Weyrleader as of yet. That alone was reason enough for her to cringe inside, a sudden unwillingness to climb any further. But there was no choice in the matter, so for the rest of the journey, quelling her dread was the foremost of her thoughts.

When unstrapped, Nwalme climbed down from the Ghost as nimbly as she knew how, her strength aiding her efforts. “My son hates those who hide themselves.” Shards. What did she do all of the time? Hide herself. And now she was being asked to let her protective wall of ice down to a stranger? Swallowing, the girl nodded. “Thank you B’rac - for your advice. I shall… try my best.” Allowing herself to be led in, her eyes took in the surroundings. In all, she decided it looked pretty grim, nothing like the decadent weyrs of some Weyrleaders she had seen. That thought quickly evaporated when she set sight upon B’ach himself. He looked fairly terrifying.

The scowl on his face did nothing to alleviate the knot of fear twisting in her gut, nor did B’rac’s departure – the hope of a potential rescuer had evaporated. Automatically her gaze went to drop to the floor, until B’rac’s words, only recently spoken resounded in her head. Nwalme raised her gaze to meet that of the Weyrleaders, the brighter sparks of grey reflecting the torchlight much more brilliantly than the deep navy. Dark eyes on dark eyes. She faltered, not knowing whether to bow or not. Trapped in her indecision as she was trapped under his gaze, she stood still, hoping her posture was as strong and dignified as she thought it was.

He spoke. She listened. Pondered his words. Why had he summoned her here? Chewing the words over slowly, she thought. If B’rac had made so light of the scrolls, then surely it couldn’t be because of that… Summoning her voice she spoke. “Weyrleader B’ach. Your summons have come as quite the surprise at this late hour…” Her voice, so far was holding steady. “I can only guess as to the nature of this meeting,” a slight falter there, her mind screaming at her to break eye contact, to look away, to stop speaking. Stubbornly she continued, but her voice softened a little, unable to keep the strong timbre held there. “I wonder…” She faltered once more, and this time lost all trace of her aloof bearings. Her gaze lost any of the distance it might have held, and she truly met his gaze, instead of almost staring past it. “I know my arrival at Skrull Island was somewhat… unusual, so perhaps I am here because of this?” The words came easier, unlike those she had uttered when trying to stand firm and remote. Drawing in a breath, she kept her gaze on the weyrleader, but allowed herself to wander over his features - her inquisitive mind instantly burned to ask how he came by such a scar, but she held her tongue. She drew another lungful of oxygen, half awaiting judgement on the few words she had spoken, half curious to learn more about the man sitting before her.

[Bacchante]

B’ach stared at her for awhile, face going impassive. Then he stood. Amazingly, he was only five foot four, but he was one of those shorter people who felt tall. He talked tall, walked tall, acted tall so often people would forget he wasn’t. The Weyrleader walked over to her, his eyes boring into hers from less than a foot away. Then, like a snake, his hand shot out and grabbed Nwalme’s jaw, turning her head left and right and left again as he examined her. The pale man seemed to come to a decision because he let her go.

Then he began to laugh.

It was full-throated, chest-heaving, eye-watering laughter: As if he had seen something unbearably funny in her face. He walked beside her and put his arm around her shoulder, leading her toward the darkness as his laughter began to slowly peter off. ”Zenith! That fool of a councilman got more than he bargained for. He wanted a pretty little thing with no willpower, to ensnare me, and he got this!” He stepped away from her as a huge shape moved in the darkness and turned to stare at her, its shape lost in shadows but its eyes glowing blue in the dark. The voice was loud and clear in their minds. <She is intelligent, but hides it. She is like the one from Solse.> The Weyrleader grinned happily. ”Oh, indeed! I must admit… Lithe, not too rotund a bust, a lean yet pretty face. You’d almost be my type of girl, Nwalme, if it weren’t for the fact that I’m not your type of man. Or gender, even.”

He walked over to the desk and hopped on to it, crossing his legs and staring at her. ”Here’s the deal. You were transferred here by a Councilman who wanted to show you to the Wraithking egg in the hopes that it would hatch for you. He hoped that you, with feminine wiles, would control me while he would control you. He has failed twofold. One: You are not as pathetically weak as you appear to be. I know another with a face like yours. Nobody is truly that subservient. Two: You are forbidden on pain of Pain to ever step foot on the Hatching Sands without my permission and absolutely forbidden from ever seeing the Wraithking. Nothing personal, but you wouldn’t be able to carry out all your required duties. So… Any questions about Skrull while you’re up here?”

[pandoraMisfit]

Resisting the urge to flinch away as B’ach drew closer, the dark haired girl stood resolute, even when the man grabbed her face and manipulated this way and that. Her breath caught in her throat whilst he examined her, fists clenching at her sides. She wasn’t livestock to be examined at leisure – but as soon as she was about to tell him as much he let her go. And laughed. Indignation rose up within her, her pale cheeks blazing scarlet once more. When his laughter finally subsided and he moved aside, she finally let her gaze drop to the floor, eyes shielded by the dark lashes that surrounded them. His words meant little to her – her transfer had been arranged and she had taken opportunity of it. Everything had been legit, or so she had thought. At any rate, nobody from home had missed her yet.

Her gaze didn’t linger on the floor very long at all, for the second she heard something shifting – a huge great bulk from the noise it created – she all but jumped out of her skin, looking this way and that like a feral cat on alert until her sight fixed on two glowing orbs in the darkness. Her breath caught in her throat. Although she could see little else in the gloom, the size and height at which those swirling blue spheres were positioned told her all she had needed to know. Zenith. A voice spoke into her mind; such a foreign sensation that she yet again jumped visibly. It only occurred to her then that this would indeed be the Wraithqueen’s weyr and not just some meeting room. The size and structure, what she could see of it at least, all pointed in that direction.

Looking to B’ach and seeing him grin brought only the hint of a scowl upon her features. It was tempting to bristle at his comment about both her looks and her sexuality, to correct him in the fact that it wasn’t solely women she was interested in, and to berate him for mocking her, but his position and the presence of the enormous queen made her think otherwise. Reigning her emotion is was easy, as practiced as a Harper plucking his stringed gitar day in and day out. Instead she spoke calmly. “I’d appreciate it if you gave up on flattery, if flattery was indeed your intention in your analysis of my physical features. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“If it was this councilman’s intention to show me to the Wraithking egg then I can at least assure you that I knew not of its existence until very recently. As for feminine wiles, you will find me lacking in that area. It is not my way to beguile and manipulate those around me.” These were probably the most words she had ever spoken to anyone since arriving at Skrull, but somehow B’rac’s words resonated in her mind, reminding her to not hide herself. And in her true self, she would speak out; she would make her point known. So there was little harm in it, from her point of view. But his next words made something in her snap, made her brow furrow and made her gaze flare bright with annoyance as those words, so easily uttered, struck a chord within her.

He had just prohibited her from entering the sands. Ever. Unless he said so. She was weyr born and bred! It was in her blood to Impress, who cares if it was only a green? She had no aspiration to become the rider of a Queen, shards, let alone a King upon whom the survival of the weyr seemed to depend. Nwalme fixed her gaze on B’ach’s deep green eyes once more. It was her bloodright that she at least be allowed to stand on the sands, even if she didn’t Impress! She clenched her fists into the loose fabric of her trousers, frustration venting itself in a physical form.

“Weyrleader B’ach, whilst I am grateful for my residency here, I would like to know why I am forbidden from the sands? Perhaps I was better off at Crystal Caverns, at least there I would have had a chance. And I can promise you that I already know extremely well that I am an unsuitable candidate for your Weyr’s king, nor do I desire to be his rider.” Her voice fairly shook as she spoke, her indignation transforming into the beginning of anger. Crossing her arms, she wouldn’t break his gaze, not for anything even as she began to shake, battling with the need to acquiesce and to blend into the background. Except there was no background here, she was in the spotlight. No point in being meek and mincing when the only person there was yourself. No, she would stand her ground this time, without the need to hide away.

[Bacchante]

”BECAUSE IT IS NOT YOUR RIGHT!’

B’ach charged forwards, roaring at her, his face contorted with fury. ”If you were at home and received such orders would you fight them so? I doubt it! Here, in Skrull, the chance to Impress is a privilege, not a right! No candidate, from Skrull or otherwise, may step on the Sands without the Weyrleader’s consent. All must earn the privilege. I… Am the one exception to this rule in the last hundred years because I wandered onto the Sands when I was five years of age, and Impressed Zenith there and then.”

He turned angrily and strode into the darkness, vanishing. His voice rang out and the noises of a person searching through something were heard. ”In Skrull and her Holds, one must prove that they are worthy. There are tests of Courage, Will, Mind and Honor. We do not let just anyone become a rider. I still had to pass all of these tests after my Impression, or I would not have been Weyrleader.” B’ach strode out of the dark, carrying three scrolls. These he handed to Nwalme. ”You want to stand on the Sands? Read these. The first is the History of Skrull. The second, information on our dragon breeds and the nuances of each one. The third is basic attack formations and battle strategies. Only when you can answer any question on any of these three scrolls, will you past the Test of Mind.”

With that, B’ach stepped back and smoothed his pale brown hair. ”I’m sorry for shouting. Once, and only once, did a boy impress without passing the tests before… Or after. When I was nine… Or maybe eight... He ambushed me on the Great Stair and slashed across my face with a knife.” He ran his gloved fingers along the scar that took out a chunk of his nose and disfigured his face. ”My Father, B’rac, saw it. He drove Ghresath to leap into the Shaft as I fell and caught me. He was promoted to Guard Captain for that. The same boy tried again at my… Coronation. He had driven his dragon mad with his insanity and rage. He tried to kill me, but Zenith crushed his dragon and dissolved him with her acid. Why? Because he was mentally unsound and believed it was his RIGHT to have the Wraith because his father was steward while I grew. It is for people like him that we have this policy. Understand?

[pandoraMisfit]

Quickly Nwalme regretted her words, the rage and fury directed at her like the full wrath of a Magma in a frenzy. Her own rising angry swiftly fled the second the pale man had charged at her leaving her quivering like a leaf in the wind, the pride of her blood vanishing along with the strength in her gaze. Cringing away when B’ach was in her face wasn’t a show of strength she knew, but anyone would have under the circumstances. Looking at the stone floor, the girl wished that she had loosened the clip in her hair, to let the silky locks fall forward and cover her face, to hide her eyes and the pearls of tears that began to form there. But even when the weyrleader left, searching for something, her body refused to move her arms to brush the glistening drops away, paralysed by fear of this man. She shouldn’t have said anything. Shouldn’t have questioned his authority. Should have just nodded and said ‘Yes sir’ like she had been for the last Faranth knew how many turns. Stupid, stupid, STUPID!

As she listened to his words, every one of them pounding into her mind echoing throughout the room and amplified by its sheer size, she continued to study the cracks in the floor. She only looked up when she felt three smooth leather cases pushed upon her hands. She scrambled to take them quickly without dropping them ,but as she raised her head, the two tears that had been threatening to drop chose that moment to snake their way down her pale skin. Twin rivulets ran one down either cheek, but no more followed. She wasn’t one prone to bawling like a baby. Making no move to smudge away the tears, Nwalme looked at the man in front of her from under her thick eyelashes, not so keen to make eye contact now as before.

He continued speaking, telling of the consequences of Impression without these trials. It wasn’t something she had heard of before. Clutching the scrolls tighter to her chest, she repressed a shudder upon hearing the fate of the man who had dealt B’ach the scar. She kept her gaze lowered for her fear only just starting to subside. “I understand.” Her voice was only a whisper. “And I apologise for my impudence… It makes me look a child and one with far less intelligence than is accredited to me.” Finally she lifted her gaze from the floor, to rest upon the face of the man before her, unwilling to make contact; yet every so often her eyes would flick up to meet his, if only to wander away from them again. The protective nature of distance was provocative to her at the moment, to reply “Yes, no, 3 sacks full,” and get it over and done with, but for the fact she was too curious.

“I will do my best to learn the ways of this weyr, to pass the tests and perhaps one day stand upon the sands.” She shifted her weight onto her left foot, unaware that she had been resting on her right; having stood stone still in the same spot had a cramp developing in her calf muscle that she needed to get rid of. “But even if such a day should never occur, I shall continue my studies. There is always need for a healer and I do not wish to find myself useless within these walls.” There she stopped, not wishing to ramble on about her love for healing and how interesting it was learning, especially where to Skullumbrans where concerned. A frown creased her forehead as she thought. “Although, I am curious as to who will teach me if I surpass my current tutors level of expertise…” Her voice petered off before coming back again. “And since you asked if there was anything else I wanted to know about Skrull…. I was wondering if you could tell me why I’ve never seen any firelizards here? It’s a silly question, I know, but I have wondered about it for a while now.” Indeed curiosity had gotten the better of her tongue, and although the trepidation brought on by B’ach still lingered, it felt almost normal to be talking instead of keeping her lips sealed.

[Bacchante]

”I hope you do not renege on that promise, Nwalme. Allowing any outsiders into Skrull has been a huge gamble. Apologies for my anger. I need to be more understanding… Since you do not know our ways.” The ways of Skrull were ones of tradition and obedience. So, he would grant her the boon of answering her question. But not immediately. He walked over to the desk and opened a heavy stone door in the side, running his fingers along the scrolls there until he hit ‘N’. ”Aha! Nwalme.” He held out the scroll with her name written at the top, on the back. The Weyrleader unrolled it on the desk and ran his finger down it.

”The healer is singing your praises. She loves you beyond belief. I quote: “Observant, obedient, quiet and efficient. I wish I had five more like her. Shards, even one more like her!” Report on your movements... You avoid company of the other candidates, Skrull or otherwise, and seem to go between the healer’s, your room and the library only. Ah, a disciplinary note here. Thievery, hmm? Frowned upon, but understandable. Your punishment is to have the Weyrleader shout at you angrily in a loud voice over a completely different manner. Punishment administered, so let’s move on. A recommendation that you be transferred to Ghost training… Not written here, but overheard and written on my Father’s face. Request denied… For now. You will remain mainstream until two of the tests have been passed. Then we shall see. Since you have such an interest in rare scrolls…”

Finally, B’ach looked up at her. He opened a small stone drawer and sifted through it, pulling out piece of dark leather. He flipped it over, revealing the other side to be white with lettering dyed into it. He also removed a needle and stone bottle of ink. With practised care he dipped the needle into the ink and stabbed the white side, to form lettering. Then he tossed it to her. ”Weyrleader’s pass. You may come and go from the library and archive as you please, and may remove up to four scrolls at a time. You may not, however, enter the vault. This is a great trust I place in you. If you abuse or misuse it… There will be me to pay.” B’ach looked back down at the scroll and removed a quill, making a note.

”One thing. I know of your history… Of torture due to your, shall we say, preferences? Know that in Skrull, this is not allowed.” He thought for a moment, then clarified. ”You have the right to be with whomever you want, regardless of their gender, and no man or woman, rider or no, may force themselves upon you. Thus is the law of Skrull. Finally…” He removed something metal, a badge of tarnished bronze. This he tossed to her as well. It had the Skrull emblem on it, and some faint lettering around the edge. On close examination it didn’t seem to be any recognizable language. ”Wear that at all times. There’s something about you that I intend to decipher. You will now report to the Fifth Ring at your appointed lesson time every day. I will be your teacher. There is one other girl in your class as of now, but there will be more.” He racked his brains for a moment.

”Ah… Yes. Firelizards. You may note that there is no information of the physiology or abilities of the Wraiths upon that scroll. So know this… What I tell you is only for your ears. Whenever a Wraith is in residence in Skrull… Strange things happen. Firelizards will set foot upon, nor fly over, the mountain. All Golds, Bronzes and Browns first grow weak, then increasingly lethargic, then die. Finally, if you were to leave Skrull, you would find your memory dark and clouded, incapable of recalling any of your surroundings, or directions, or even what the interior of Skrull looks like. Anything else?”

[pandoraMisfit]

A hint of a smile crept upon the girl’s lips at the praise she received, a warm glow suffusing across her whole being – it wasn’t often she had heard kind words and until recently ,they were an incredibly rare thing. She still held each and every one in high regard. And when B’ach spoke of her punishment for thievery, she even allowed the smile to broaden slightly. After all, the contrast between his stern face and the way he said it, well. She imagined it was probably intended to make her smile. Nwalme’s reflexes kicked in quickly when the weyrleader tossed her the piece of leather. Snatching the item out of the air, she brought the written side before her eyes. Her brow furrowed slightly as she read the lettering – but the wrinkles in her forehead soon vanished as his words hit her ears. “Thank you weyrleader,” she said, tucking the pass away in the folds of her tunic. “I will be certain to obey your orders. I will not set foot in the vault, upon my word.”

The rest of B’ach’s words floated to her across the room. The meeting, for her, had turned from ugly, to somewhat pleasing. At any rate, it was a kindness he need not have bestowed upon her, yet he did. This, again, was a rarity to her. She was musing on how different things were here in Skrull, until another object came whizzing at her. More clumsily than the first time, she fumbled for the item, dropped it with a clang, and then hurriedly retrieved it from the floor and her cheeks were once more set to blazing. She didn’t wish to be seen by anyone as clumsy. Fingering the embossed lettering, she discovered in was indecipherable to her. Nodding, she mentally recorded her new lesson times as she pinned the emblem on her tunic, choosing the left side for some reason.

She said not a word until the man asked her if there was anything else. She had already made note of the things he had a told her, and later on, she would repeat it to herself, to memorise the strangeness of the wraiths. Normally she would write it, but she did not want to risk someone stumbling upon it. It was a shame though, she had always thought fire lizards to be cute, and had often fantasized about having one as a pet. Nevermind, she thought, being here is much more of a reward than having a silly pet.

Stifling a yawn, Nwalme spoke. “Thank you for your indulgence. As I have already said, there is much about this place I wish to learn. But for now, no there isn’t anything else I wish to know. Actually,” here she stifled another yawn, “If we are done here, may I return my quarters weyrleader? I need to rise early to help the healer in the morning.”

((Sorry about the quality, Niemh doesn't want to play ball at the moment))

[Bacchante]

"Yes, the Firelizard situation is annoying." It was almost as if he'd read her mind. In a way, he had. When he was perhaps six he'd been taken to another Hold and seen some of the mini-dragons. Oh, how he'd wanted one. Then he was reminded that he had his own, much larger dragon. "I wanted one myself at your age. We have those furry little things, though." He scrabbled through his desk a bit more, but ultimately gave up.

"Bah. There was something else, but I can't find it. In any case, my father will return you to your quarters. See you tomorrow, Nwalme." He returned to his work, ignoring her again. Obviously the sign for her to leave. But, as she was about to pass through the arch. "The reason you cannot see the Wraithking. The rider of the King becomes Weyrwoman. I would not force you into that, given the nature of it in Skrull." And that was all.

Outside, B'rac whistled appreciatively at the badge on Nwalme's breast. "He's finally doing it, then." Without another word, he headed over to his Ghost.

Finally, they were back at Nwalme's room. B'rac had escorted her through the twisting halls. As he closed her door he spoke. "Be careful, Nwalme. Civilization is a new concept for some of us. Isolation doesn't breed manners."

And then he too was gone.

[pandoraMisfit]

The girl let herself be transported to her room and demurely closed the door behind B’rac without saying a word. Well, what a twist of events tonight had been. Pondering the man’s words about civilisation and manners, Nwalme couldn’t make head nor tail of it. She also didn’t fully understand what “So he’s finally doing it then” meant. What she did know was that now she had the interest of the weyrleader, and something about that made her feel uncomfortable. To be under the scrutiny of that strange man each and every day was definitely going to be a little more unnerving, but she knew that she could put up with it. She relit the now solid candle to illuminate the room. There was something about the pitch dark that she didn’t like, something about not being able to see properly.

Untying her long tresses, she fluffed them out into a cloud around her head. By now, it was extremely late, and she should probably get some form of rest. Especially as she was now to report to the fifth level the following morning. Digging out the hastily buried scroll from underneath her covers, she layed it reverently on the little table she had been studying at not long before all of this had occurred. She would return it directly in the morning, and browse the archives for something more challenging. The healer was going to be in for a shock! Gaining access to the entire library – barring the vault of course – was going to increase her knowledge exponentially. Nwalme was an avid reader and with scrolls to supplement her learning, she knew she could impress her mentor even more than already stated.

Nwalme fingered the metal badge on her tunic before removing it and placing it on the desk along with the scrolls and her new pass. Quickly she changed from her clothes into a soft nightgown of pale cream, smoothing the creases away as it fell to her calves. With her halo of dark hair, pale complexion and clothing, she could have looked like an angel to the Terrans of old. Retiring to her bed at last, she pulled the coverlet above her head, snuggling into the fabric as if making herself a nest in which to escape from the world of waking. Within a few minutes she was fast asleep, dreaming about dragons and sandy beaches.

((I think that's this thread finished now, unless you want to add anything Bacch?))