Socially Advance

[Taxx]

Gonalden hadn’t been quite sure what to expect from Mavros; he’d never been, not even to visit, and what he’d heard from Kaldego hadn’t been much to go on. A small weyrhold that had broken off from Tidewalk some six Turns ago, staking their claim on a thus-far uninhabited island and building themselves a suitable home from nothing. At the very least, they sounded like the kind of people he could admire: those who made the best of what they had and pushed on to survive as best they could.

But, he’d realized, it wasn’t very big. Oh, the island itself was of impressive size, but there were so few people. Nothing like Castel. Of course, the dragons were new. Only whers stayed for any length of time at the Hold of his birth: as it should be, with their standing as Pern's -admittedly unofficial- Wherhall, and the help they gave to the miners there.

The dragons made up for it, he found quickly, as he stepped off the ship that had been his passage from Castel, a quiet sigh of relief for the solid earth underfoot. They were not as numerous as the people, but each was a member of the Weyr in their own way. Turning back to the ship, Gonalden looked at the wher huddled at the top of the gangplank, blocking anyone else from coming down. One front paw reached out to tap the two claws against the wooden ramp, testing its soundness.

It’s safe, Gonalden assured him. You went up it, remember?

Grumble grumble grumble, went the bronze, but his second forefoot joined the first and he inched his way along, ever so carefully making his way down until he was just five feet from the dock and then he jumped, landing surely but heavily on the walkway. It shuddered beneath him and Gonalden was nearly certain one plank had splintered- nothing broke outright, so that was one plus; but he’d have to talk to someone about it later. Faranth willing he remembered.

No more boat, Gonask commented, and belatedly the man realized his bronze was trotting away toward the shore. He lingered just long enough to confirm with a steward that he’d be housing in Mavros’ wherhandler quarters- everything had been cleared before he’d even left Castel- and to make sure nothing of his was left behind. Then he hurried after the bronze, because the last thing he needed was someone trying to pull rank on the wher and have blood spill before he’d been on Mavrosi soil for a half-hour passed.

He caught up to his wher quickly, and then for a moment both paused to take in the sights. Dragons! And people too, of course, but it was to the dragons that Gonalden’s eyes flickered: to the bright golds up on the Rim, to the various shades of bronze, brown, blue and green that lounged in the sun. One of them- he wasn’t really sure which, considering he’d never met the pair in person- belonged to the Mavros Weyrleader, and Gonalden knew he’d have to introduce himself to the bronzerider soon.

Ride dumb, was Gonask’s input, and Gonalden glanced at the bronze where he sat beside his handler, nose up and sniffing at the myriad of different smells.

I ride you, sometimes, he replied, and grinned at the look the bronze gave him through dark goggles.

Not same. Ride me, smart. Gonask keep feet on ground where belong. Ride dragon, dumb. Gonask’s not dumb.

Ah, a wher’s mind. No, they weren’t stupid creatures, even if their intelligence was far from what he’d heard of dragons, but neither were they known for deep thought and eloquence. Like a dog with a bone, was a favorite saying: once they got an idea in their heads it was hard to shake, and Gonask was no different. “Come on, you. Let’s get you settled and get those goggles off; they must be bothering you. Let me just find someone who can point me toward the whers’ quarters…”

After a second’s consideration, he reached out and called to someone as they passed, smiling and offering a slight bow of greeting.

[Zen]

Asheryn

It was a rest day for her, which Asheryn generally still worked through anyway, what with all the work that needed doing expanding Mavros’s weyrs for future dragons and their riders and generally making the place more livable, a task made a bit more difficult due to the fact that it was so inhabited already. Not that the structural miners such as herself wouldn’t be careful anyway, but there was a whole different risk factor in miscalculating the structural integrity of a newly expanded cavern when someone was living above or below it already. A Weyr was not generally constructed as hastily as Mavros has been, which was to say barely constructed at all. Rather the original settlers had simply made due with the generous caverns already available to them and now the miners were left to work around it all. It was a real pain at times, but she also enjoyed the challenge of it.

But today she had decided to actually take her day off. She’d spent some time with her children and would likely spend more time with them later as well, but for the time being she was enjoying time to herself. There were no better drinking companions than sailors, that was for certain, and so she had come to the harbor to find such companions and throw back a few ales, perhaps make a few new friends. She slowed however at the sight of a shiny bronze wher. The beast didn’t look familiar, and she had worked around all of Mavros’s whers at some point or another in the turns she’d been here. So when the man beside the bronze called out and bowed in greeting, of all things, she stopped and eyed him. He wasn’t familiar either. Definitely not one of Mavros’s meager handlers. Galderran had said they’d have a visiting gold wher with Jask so generously tithing them a clutch of eggs, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about a bronze.

“Oi there. Who’re you? Not that you’re a bad surprise at all but we weren’t expecting a new handler pair to join us,” she paused a moment to scrutinize the young man, casting a glance over his wher before holding out her hand in greeting, “Name’s Asheryn. I’m a miner here, specialize in figuring structural soundness and all that. Hope to be a fellow handler in the next couple months too. Either way I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other, eh?”

Taxx

[Taxx]

The woman he'd called out to paused, her sharp gaze taking him in, whatever considerations she was going through in her mind preceding her greeting in return. She didn't seem shy about satisfying her curiosities, either, and Gonalden had no problem answering the questions; it was hardly a secret, and it was only polite to explain himself given that she'd find out soon enough anyway. If she paid any sort of attention to the political side of the Weyr's affairs, at least.

"Gonalden is my name," he replied, reaching out to tap the bronze who paused at his side, head turned just a touch to direct a not-quite-glare at the stranger. "My partner, bronze Gonask. We're here on business, from Castel; I'm one of the candidates to the Lord Holder position and I thought it wise to come, to learn what I could about Mavros firsthand."

In truth, he was far more willing to not talk about that. It was as yet a fair race between those who had put up their names for the rank, and there were far more interesting things to discuss; her own familiarity as a miner being one of them, as well as her expressed hope to bond to a wher in the upcoming tithe of eggs gifted to Mavros. "Well met, Asheryn. I hope so as well. Ah, but for now, if you'd be so kind as to show me lodgings for wherhandlers?"

Want dark, the bronze affirmed, still staring at the woman. He didn't mind speaking to her- ordering her about, more like- but he made no attempt to approach and he eyed her as if daring her to take a step closer, which the handler hoped very much she had the sense and experience not to do. A fine way to start his visit, his bronze threatening to maul one of Mavros' crafters.
Zen

[Zen]

Asheryn

Business from Castel? Ah. He was one of the lordlings she’d heard about? Rumors abound, particularly in the harbor cavern among the fisher folk, about the upcoming voting at turn’s end and the prospect of Mavros installing a proper Lord Holder for themselves, something the holderfolk had previously refused. But they had options this time. Last time it was but one man against their freedom to choose a Holder Elect, and they had not liked the one man. What had his name been again? Ah well, it hardly mattered. Some git from Mirran that had failed his attempt at Lordship. But if this one was from Castel…. Gonalden? Shells, it had been a long time since she’d thought about the Lord of Castel at all but she remembered that name. The man had three sons, the eldest of which had taken over the Hold after she’d come to Mavros. Gonalden was the youngest and still a boy the last she knew of him, and an apprentice in the mines as well. It had been turns since then, of course, and she’d had very little to do with apprentices back then. Asheryn didn’t have much patience for teaching.

She grinned, “Welcome to Mavros. I was born and raised in Castel myself. Hafta say I’d be pleased enough to have one of our own in charge’a things. Don’t think you’ll have much issue winning the votes of the miners, eh?” And with another glance at his wher, she added, “Nor the handlers, few enough of em that there are.” She waved her hand then, because as he’d said, he wanted to find his quarters, and grinned again when his wher reflected the sentiment. Galderran’s wher had spoken a few words to her before, but he was the only one. She wondered if it had something to do with bronze whers, that they were more bold and willing to speak directly to those outside their handlers.

“C’mon then, it’s a ways to the lower caverns of the beasthold where the whers and handlers make their quarters,” and with a quick look around, she took a path around the bustle of the harbor cavern, not that it was terribly needed. Anyone that saw Gonask gave them a wide berth, but she’d rather not be any more disruptive than they already were. She cast a glance back at the young man, “Might have a harder time convincing this lot to vote for you. They don’t appreciate whers like we do.”

Taxx

[Taxx]

A fellow former member of Castel and a miner? What luck, to find her here! Gonalden didn't recognize her, but neither did he have reason to doubt her claims; it wasn't so unlikely that they simply had never met face to face, though he might have heard of her a time or two. Still, easier for her name to slip from his memory than his from hers, given his birthright. He dipped his head in a nod at her welcome and then smiled, wondering if it really would be that easy. The miners were, of course, only a small portion of the Weyrhold, but having some guaranteed votes simply by association couldn't hurt his standing.

He followed Asheryn as she turned to lead them toward the handlers' quarters, the bronze trotting alongside. Stupid then, was Gonask's comment in response to Asheryn's last statement, the two words all he cared to give to those without the brains to appreciate his kind, and he jerked his head toward the woman as Gonalden's hand brushed over a pale shoulder. The abrupt dimming of light was pleasing, eyes fading to blue as they blinked, adjusting quickly; the sudden appearance of the wher caught someone by surprise and they stumbled backward, putting plenty of distance between themselves and the bronze.

Proof, not that he'd needed it. And certainly true enough that some whers could be vicious, but it wasn't true of them all- plenty of whers he'd known enjoyed scratches from a stranger and only reacted violently if they, or their handler, were threatened; a fact just as true of dragons, who had a far better reputation among Pernese. "Perhaps we can change their minds? I suppose that's easier said than done, but it couldn't hurt to try. How many handlers are there about Mavros? Do you have one?"
Zen