KHYRUS
"Khyrus?" You say, loudly, and the trio of Harpers (if you dare call them that) stop what they were doing and look at you.
"We'll get back to you, Khy," one of them says, and he and the second boy leave.
"Ah, I forgot. It's the weyr record thing I forgot to fill out! Shards!" The dark skinned young man stands and puts his gitar down, carefully among the other instruments and sheaves of music. "Come on in, have a seat. Here."
He chases a feline off one of the chairs so recently vacated by his friend, and indicates it. You carefully sit, and warily look around.
"What were you ... playing?" You hazard a guess...
"It's new. I think we're really coming together. You'd understand, you're a Harper after all."
"Yes, certainly... Well!" You tap the board at your knee, and hope that this interview goes better than their song writing.
"My name is Khyrus, and I'm the son of blue Tezisth's rider D'mikan and Khyree, who rode green Zelkith. She died, though... My dad is still about. I was fostered in the nearby craft hall, my father's brother is a Harper, he's really quite good. He taught me the gitar."
Fortunately, you can compliment him on it and not be lying. The sounds he made from it you've never heard before, but they weren't bad ones. Not like the drummer...
"Well, I was searched this summer, and I've been waiting to stand. My friends Flo and Jet are probably not going to come with me, though, they haven't been and they'd rather stay with the Harpers craft."
"Flo and Jet?" You say, wondering, those can't possibly be real names...
"Flosar and Jettran," he supplies. "Get off that!" He yells suddenly, and another feline leaps from her perch on the edge of the work bench, where a small lute is about to tumble down. You catch it, and place it farther back on the bench. "Thanks," he says. "She's always on things."
"You... have a lot of felines," you say, now noticing that several more have gathered around you, looking at you like you must have a treat for them.
"Oh, I love the little cats. They love me too, like fire lizards sometimes love people. I'd rather have a pack of cats around than a bunch of noisy flits, though." He absently scratches the big calico mom-cat at his knee. Soon enough five more have arrived for their share of cuddling.
"I've heard the weyr is full of beautiful women," Khyrus says, out of the blue. "Do you think they'd go for me? A charming harper just off the tables with a cavern full of cats?"
You look him over: he is certainly dashing looking, his hair needs to be cut in your opinion, but his smile is no less than winning and his eyes sparkle with pleasure.
"I don't see why not. Unless they're pickier about music..."
He looks hurt, and you realize that you said that last bit out loud! You hadn't meant to!
"Oh, but I'm old and what do I know about young music nowadays..." you hastily add, and his pout turns to happiness again. "How old are you anyway?"
"Fifteen turns," he says, and you are startled.
"You look much older," you admit. "I would have said no less than 19."
Again he gives you a brilliant smile, and flashes his heavy eyebrows up and down. "That's what I needed to hear!"
You jot down whatever other notes you need, and take your leave.
15 turns old though he doesn't look it
A Journeyman Harper
More than 6'1" tall, and with strong muscles in his upper body, as well as ... the 'perfect butt'
Has very rich brown-red skin, very even and no noticable scars, vibrantly black hair that goes to his mid back, with a gaudy forelock over his face, and bright yellow-green eyes
His voice is deep and remarkably expressive, even though he sings with a kind of hush and mystery
"Accepted," he breathed. "Cool!"
He ran to his friend's weyr and blurted out that he'd been Searched and accepted for Istabitha's Weyr, which wasn't terribly far away but more than far enough that a dragon would be called in to fly him there.
"We'll ... be waiting for you when you get back."
"Pfah!" Khyrus said. "You have such little faith in me... You'll see me on a dragon next!"
'Besides,' he thought to himself, 'when I do Impress I'm out of here, and in the Protectorate. They loved my gitar and I know they'll love my dragonriding!'
There was no trouble coming this time! Families and friends, those in the weyr whose privelege it was to oversee the hatching, and the candidates of course, all arrived shortly to the bugling of the adult dragons above. The sun was very warm on Khyrus' shoulders as he ran to the sands.
The first half of the clutch had been hatched a while before, but all the shells from that part had been cleared so there were no sharp edges anywhere on the sands. That was good. It left a nice, wide area where the eggs could open and the dragons in them could show themselves.
Khyrus had an eye for the dramatic.
So did the first egg which tumbled from its perch on the sands! It rolled, rocked, shuddered and shook down away from the other eggs. Khyrus and the other candidates watched this with interest, as the hush of the sands overtook those watching. Everyone held their breath!
The egg stopped and split right down the middle, revealing a perfect Bronze! He looked somewhat annoyed, though how that was possible for the first hatchling to be angered... No one knew!
Well, no one but Khyrus!
I am Skhyith, and I have been waiting, for you, Khyr's. You know I can hear your songs in my head! Now I want to sing them too!
"No problem, Skhyith! We'll impress everyone with our singing when we get bacK!" Khyrus -- now Khyr's -- yelled! He'd impressed the first out of the shell! And a bronze to boot! He was so amazed that he almost ... no, he did just start crying! He put his arms around the graceful neck of his dragon, and they listened to the cheering of the audience!
