Standing over 6'6 and with the broad, strong shoulders usually found on a weyrbrat, Abdiel is hardly a big softie. He works with large looms, carries bolts of cloth and does heavy work but his prized ability for pattern making and detail, well, that's explained below.
Abdiel was rather shocked to discover that he'd been Searched.
Him? Ride a dragon? Well, he'd better look good doing it!
Of course, he would look doing just about anything. As far as he's concerned. Since he was thirteen turns old, Abdiel knew how to dress and how to make others look good in their own clothing. Always with an eye for detail, he has put Ladies in simple burlap and made their suitors have heart palpitations in doing so.
Now, at 17 turns, he is sure that some day, some where, there will be a weyr with his experienced hands aiding it. Not that Blackstone isn't enough for him, but he doubts that he'll stand on the sands there. After all, it was one of Dawn Sisters search riders who sniffed him out of a crowd! Read on to see how it all unfolded...
"Yes sir," Abdiel said, mouth still holding three long needles and hands still wrapped in colorful threads. "Coming..."
He stood, towered over the master Weaver easily by his whole head, and could fit two of him between the broad shoulders he had. The master weaver watched as the young man as he strode out to the courtyard. The people of Dawnlight Hold had long been used to this shuffling game, and everyone who had a relative that had Impressed thought highly of it.
Those who had lost relatives to Threadfall, on dragons... Well, they mainly kept silent.
"It's all right," said the rider, changing his expression and looking oddly at his blue dragon. "I think... we've got who we need right now. It's not a large clutch, so ... Ah."
The blue dragon nudged his rider, who went half-sprawling toward the candidate line. Some of the younger teens giggled behind their hands, then laughed out loud as the rider chuckled to himself too.
"I'm going, okay, see me go? Here?" He walked before the girls, and the dragon gave a snort. "Here? Oooookay, how about here?" He played a hot-warm game with the dragon, drawing out the torture of selection. Some potential candidates stood patiently, while others who would never be chosen desperately sweated and wished fervently.
They do not know I can hear them, bespoke the blue to his rider. They are ... not suited. But one is. That big strapping dark one in the back! He just got here!
"Who? Ah, here..." the rider, D'lom, strode between three young skinny girls, and nearly stepped over a very short lad, before he reached Abdiel. He was a broad-shouldered one, this dark skinned and handsome young man. "And what is your name?" D'lom asked.
Abdiel's eyebrows worked around on his forehead for a moment, before he pressed his thick lips together and remembered he'd still had the pins in his mouth. Better remove them before spitting them into a Search rider's face!
"Abdiel, sir. That is a fine looking dragon." He looked with ease over the heads of most assembled, at the brilliant shade of blue on the hide. "I could match that color, make a silken tunic that would have weyrgirls all over you. Or," he glanced briefly around with a smirk, "whoever..."
"Oh you could, could you?" D'lom said, almost blushing -- was this weaver-boy actually trying to flirt with HIM?
"I sure could."
"You'd be better off learning to work leather, since you're the one who's being searched here. And if you Impress on Dawn Sisters sands, you're going to be expected to put your own riding harness together." D'lom reached out and patted the broad warm shoulder of the weaver, and then turned.
With one eyebrow arched high, Abdiel watched D'lom as he sauntered away through the crowd. Sighs of disappointment and even a bit of whining from others didn't seem to register. Fly? A dragon? Why, of course! It was perfect!
And he could even probably make a matching scarf for flying!
"What a horrible robe," Abdiel complained. "How in the world did they decide on this awful material? Can it be any warmer? And while I look good in white, it's hardly the sort of thing one wants to be wearing when standing in a hot place with dragon-egg-goo on you!"
He was ignored for the most part.
Fortunately he was not ignored by the dragons. He watched as many others before him got their chance to impress. A brown -- not a bad start from a green's clutch -- came first. Then the parade of greens and blues. He had known this clutch would be filled with them, but he had no idea they came in such beautiful variation of shade!
With a pair of greens on the sands, almost the last eggs left, one of them tumbled herself into the boy standing beside Abdiel. The other green tried to dodge their antics and wound up resting in her own emerald heap at Abdiel's feet.
There you are! I do not think I want to be on these sands any longer than I must! Oh, A'bel you must get me something to eat! That white robe looks nice and clean. Not like theirs outside. Look at them! Getting them all dirty! Oh! Oh! Is that food out there? Getting their robes all red?
"Yes it is, Lastineth, it is food, and you are right -- it's only as clean as we let it be!"
