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Messages - Colvin

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Cole had gotten off relatively easy. The little red who’d sliced open the back of his leg had been kind about it. Clean cut and only moderately deep. He, himself, had probably done more damage by ignoring O’sir’s command to get to a Healer and by standing on it for as long as the rest of the Hatching had taken. But eventually he had seen a healer. And they’d cleaned the wound and stitched it up. It wasn’t in the most easy of places to have stitches, every time he took a step, the bend of his knee tugged and pulled at the wound. He liked the constant reminder though.

As it were, he was happy not to have been one of the ones stuck in the Healer Hall. He couldn’t take another sevenday laid up like he had been after Kalestath’s flight.

But many of his fellow Candidates were here for the long run. And Cole made a point of coming to bug them whenever he came in to have his bandages changed and the stitches looked at. He used them to keep his mind off the fellis so close by whenever he was here. These first thirty six to forty eight hour, the Healer’s wanted him here at least twice a day to keep an eye on infection since he’d left the wound untended to for so long. After they were sure he wasn’t going to go rotten on them they’d likely shoo him off only to be seen a few times a sevenday for the next two sevenday until the stitches were removed.

He limped in a little bit after the Candidate Master. “Goooooddddd afternoon everyone!” As he went to move around one of the Healer apprentices near Yvesta, he hooked an arm around her waist and twirl her theatrically. “Who’s ready to unwrap the present that is me?” He teased.

As he he spun the poor girl, he slipped something into Ysveta’s bed. It was a small tablet sized piece of pottery and a thin stick of chalk. Cole had been bored out of his skull when M’kale had put him in here for so long. He’d had Daysa to keep him company. Daysa had promised to try to bring him paper to write music on back then. But finding any was nearly impossible. Still was. So this would have to do.

One of the kitchen workers had been chatting with Vi, somehow the topic came up that you could use eggshells to make chalk. Vi passed that information--and some scrap wherry eggshells over to Cole. The clay tablet shard had probably been a plate or larger bowl or something at one point in time. It was also likely a gift from his sister from the kitchens. It wasn’t paper. And it wasn’t permanent. But Cole had written out a few random notes in different places on it. Ysveta could choose to play his little “madlibs” game and fill in the blanks as she wanted to create a song. She could erase his work completely and do her own. Or she could very well ignore it and toss the thing away.

It seemed like Cole didn’t care since he didn’t acknowledge it or her as he flirted with the apprentice, who’d gotten her bearings and was smacking away his hands and leading him to a cot to be treated. He stopped following her when he caught sight of Oarlen and his head tilting as if he didn’t recognize the kid.

“You look,” he glanced over Oarlen’s small frame on the cot, unmarred by the usual firelizard coat he normally wore. “Less colorful.” Oarlen also looked smaller, more fragile. He made a mental note to encourage Vic to join in on the living flit wardrobe the kid seemed to enjoy. Speaking of Vic, he reached into a pocket a pulled out a very squished bag. “Here, Vic says hi.” The bag held an equally squished pie. Probably not standard fare for the Healer Hall but Cole had managed to swipe one in his sweep of the lunch crowd before heading here.

He blew a kiss at Savi and a wink and a bow toward Isalia before he paused at the cot he was to wait at. “So should I drop my pants here or?...” The apprentice didn’t look overly amused and simply pointed for him to lay down. Cole chuckled but finally moved onto the cot, belly down to wait to be looked at.

He laid his arms on the bed and propped his chin on them and looked to the Candidate Master, ignoring the throbbing in his leg that came from his overzealous, whirlwind entrance. The man looked entirely too comfortable here. He’d done this too many times before and probably not with just Candidates.

Spoiler for Hidden:
Um...attention hogging character so...tag everyone for mentions? xD @SirAlahn @CatTiff @Drewliet @Inki @Kyya but really, this was a bit disjointed and I was doing multiple things while writing it so if I've messed anything up or something doesn't work for anyone's charries just let me know and I'll redo.  :love:

Hatching Sands / Re: Déjà Vu [ 34.6.2590 / 10PM ] || Event
« on: June 05, 2017, 04:16:57 PM »
After the abundance of red, both in blood and in dragons, Cole wasn’t sure what he thought of the next three eggs to hatch. Bronze, brown, and blue. Familiar. Calmer. Safer? He stood still, no longer among a crowd of Candidates as most of the people around him had been pulled off the Sands to be treated.
He probably should have been one of them, let the Healer’s look at his leg properly and then come back. But the fear that they would make him stay off the Sands for the remainder of the Hatching was too strong. He didn’t trust anyone else in determining what was best for him to take the chance. Not even O’sir.
The brown and the blue seemed to find their bonds fairly quickly and the bronze wandered around as a black dragon hatched. There seemed to be a collective intake of breaths both from those on the Sands and those watching. Would the appearance of the other Weyr’s mutation be the sign of more injury and death to come? Cole watched the black carefully, curiously in almost a detached way as the new hatchling flung itself at it’s brother with teeth and claws. 
It took him a long moment to register that someone was speaking. Cole glanced over at Desh, his eyes sweeping up and down his roommate’s body clearly cataloging injuries.
“Sure,” Cole replied dryly. “We did an awesome job of not dying. Have you heard that thing some of the Weyrlings say about D’zel? That everything that doesn’t kill you is a test?” He teased with a humorless grin.
As he mentally counted off each dragon that didn’t choose him, and as he watched the battered new Weyrlings, most limping and bloodied, and as he watched the panicked Candidates, and the three bodies being carried off, he thought, surviving didn’t always mean passing. There was a lot to be lost from today. Not just in the lives of the three Candidates. Some surely would be too scared to Stand again. He thought about Cabryn, who risked her last few chances before aging out. He thought about the people in the stands, riders and holders alike whose prejudices against the blacks and reds was only going to deepen after this.
Cole swore under his breath as Cal moved forward, yelling at the two dragonets. Sharding idiot was going to get himself killed. The bronze unsurprisingly ignored the young Candidate but the black’s wedge shaped head swiveled to him as he hissed. Thankfully it didn’t attack, but stalked off, passing by Cole and Desh. Colvin smirked as it glanced their way and turned away dismissively. Ha. Nice try little dragon but no one dismissed him as well as his father. The black had nothing on the coldness of the ex-Lord of Nabol.
Another bronze hatched, and then a black and again violence ensued. But all three on the sands eventually Impressed.
“Oh for Faranth’s sake,” Cole growled to Desh as a firelizard of all things popped in from Between high above the sands. Any idiot knew what was coming, the poor creature didn’t stand a chance. He supposed he shouldn’t have been angry, he knew with so many injured that some flits would be impossible to keep away. He felt Vic pressing against his mind, anxious and agitated at Cole’s own pain and injury. The blue wanted to come to him. But would not. Between Cole’s insistence he stay away, Terra and Vi’s help, and Vic’s own cowardice--there was no chance of the blue becoming a gold dragon snack.
Things slowed considerably and in the quarter of a mark it took for the next egg to hatch, Cole’s own need to move grew unbearable and he took a couple tentative limps. He winced and glowered. Fucking dragon just had to slice him behind the knee. That wasn’t going to be an easy one to heal from...damn thing wanted to bleed every time he bent his leg even the slightest and he felt the skin tug and pull. It was like trying to breath with a broken rib---which coincidentally he knew all about too.
A couple greens and a brown hatched and Impressed without much fanfare. Though Cole chuckled at the teasing little green appreciatively and gave a soft whistle. Oh, boy that would be one to watch as she grew, she certainly knew how to play a room and get everyone’s attention and play their hopes.
If Cole thought the fifteen minute delay was a long time, he was proven very, very wrong when after another flurry of green and blue hatchings and Impressions (Twenty, Cole counted mentally...twenty one...) the action completely stopped. For two full marks.
His good leg ached from the unusual amount of weight he was putting on it to compensate for his injured one. Cole did not do well in silence or in stillness for this long. Not unless he had something to take his mind off of things. So he chatted with Desh and anyone else near enough to hear him without him moving around too much. Anyone that would listen to him at least. For his part he did keep his talking soft and didn’t cause a scene. He tried his best not to move though that was a task in itself. One thing he did not do was look back toward where the Healer’s had been triaging the injuries.
Finally though the hatching picks up again with a brown, a bronze, a green, and a….silver? Cole stopped mid sentence of some probably horribly corny joke to step forward and get a closer look. No. Not silver. Black. Huh--well that’s an interesting shade.
Soon enough it was down to three eggs left. Cole shivered, suddenly cold despite the heat of the sands. Three left. So much time already passed and they were already into the next day. What else would the exhausted Candidates face?

Spoiler for Hidden:

Hatching Sands / Re: Déjà Vu [ 34.6.2590 / 10PM ] || Event
« on: June 01, 2017, 09:35:33 AM »
Cole backed off as O’sir appeared and swooped Oarlen into his arms. He stared out across the sands at the unhatched eggs and didn’t seem to register the Candidate Masters order. As he watched, another of the unImpressed reds ran over another Candidate on the ground--Cole refused to acknowledge that he knew her name. Theina. Throw-something. Throwa The name was there but he allowed it to slip away. Pretended not to care. Pretended like she meant nothing. It was easier. It was so much easier.
He didn’t turn when O’sir carried the Pipsqueak away. Cabryn didn’t follow O’sir right away either and Colvin did allow himself to catch eyes with her. She had more to lose than even he did. He wasn’t sure how old she was but he knew she couldn’t have many Hatchings left.
When she smiled at him, he didn’t return it. A flash of disappointment flickered through his eyes and he turned away from her too, the very picture of casual disinterest.
No. He wasn’t leaving the sands. He was standing. He wasn’t going to bleed out. If he could sit in the Candidate classroom and listen to everyone talk about the responsibilities of the Weyr and working together and all that bullshit after taking a lash, he could stand here and watch the rest of the eggs hatch.
The blatant ignoring of O’sir’s command probably would lead to punishment. Shards, after today it could very well lead to him being kicked out. But he hadn’t missed a Hatching since he had been Searched and he was not leaving now.

Hatching Sands / Re: Déjà Vu [ 34.6.2590 / 10PM ] || Event
« on: June 01, 2017, 09:21:50 AM »
Cole was still watching the hatchingbloodbath, so he hadn’t noticed Cabryn come up to him and he instinctively jerked away from her when she touched him. His eyes flicked over to her briefly as she leaned down to kiss Oarlen. In his move away from Cabryn’s sign of care and affection, his grip on Oarlen loosened.
He saw the red coming. But there was nothing to be done about it. Moving or running would likely only incite it more, riling it up and making it more dangerous. He’d been about to turn as the hatchling circled, wanting to keep it in his sights when he felt the sharp sting on the back of his leg. The dragon’s talon swiped out at him like cat toying with a mouse. The newborn dragon’s claw was sharp, so at least it was a clean cut and the fact that it had been a lazy, playful swipe meant it was seriously deep. It still bled something fierce though, like a stuck wherry. And the gash ran up the back of his calf and up to his thigh, his knee buckling.
“Son of a bitch!” He yelped. Cursing, he watched the dragon bite Cabryn before it launched itself at Oarlen, tackling the boy to the ground. Luckily Oarlen was as small as he was, the dragon/boy pair didn’t have a long way to fall.
“Don’t move Oarlen.” Cole said softly, in a voice that he’d only ever used for Virilise and Daysa, to comfort them when they were scared. It was melodic and almost musical, soothing and both for Oarlen’s benefit and for the benefit of the red that sat atop him. Like a skittish runner, Cole did not want to frighten the red into scrambling off in fear and ripping Oarlen to shreds like they had to Cheyloni.
Oarlen was so still beneath the red that Cole wasn’t even sure he was conscious. Seeing him like that made a thousand ants crawl beneath his skin. Every part of him itched to move. He busied himself with ripping away the bottom hem of his robes. Hissing, he turned his leg to see the damage. He was no Healer. He had no idea if it would need stitches or not. He didn’t see anything overtly bad--bone, or whatever other awful stuff could be spilling out. Determined, he wrapped the wound tightly. He wasn’t going to leave the sands. Not willingly, not while he was conscious. And he was just stupid and just stubborn enough that he probably still would have put up a fight if they tried to get him out of there even if he was unconscious. He only had so many hatchings left...he wasn’t leaving.
Finally the red seemed done with Oarlen, licking his face and bounding off. Cole didn’t bother to watch where it went. “Next time at least buy me dinner before you try to get your claws under my robes, you red harlot…” he muttered as he inched over to Oarlen, letting the injured leg drag awkwardly and not trusting himself to put weight on it just yet.
Cole winced as Kalestath roared and the sight of another Candidate’s mangled body soaring across the sands and into the crowd made him shudder. “Next time we ought to have the Hatching in the jungle and invite the Hunters...it might be less deadly.” He muttered darkly to himself, the talking was a comfort.
“I know buddy,” he said inspecting Oarlen’s puncture wounds. They were deep, but small, the red hadn’t torn back the skin which was fortunate. “I don’t want to spend the next turn counting O’sir’s gray hair but sometimes we gotta do things we don’t want to do.” They both needed to get up. More eggs would be hatching and with so many dead and injured already, they were risking dragons going between, unable to find their mates.
“C’mon.” Cole said, still using that even, calm voice as if this was any other day and there wasn’t murder and mayhem going on around them. “Listen to my voice and breathe okay?” He needed Oarlen’s breathing to even out, to match his cadence. “You know, I totally called that egg being a red. You ask Vic once we’re done here. He’ll tell you. Should have put money on it. I’d have made--,” and in a brief instance of forethought, Cole refrained from saying the word that almost came out instinctively--killing. “I’d have made so many marks we could trade and get another bunch of flit eggs for you.” It didn’t matter what he was saying, just that he kept a continuous string of murmured words, something for Oarlen to focus on.
While he talked, Cole pushed himself up, testing his leg. Putting much weight on it at all left him with spots behind his eyes but that could have also been from the mental attack of the red dragons. Still, he favored the bad leg. “Take my hand.” He reached down to help haul Oarlen to his feet.
Spoiler for This Hatching:

Hatching Sands / Re: Déjà Vu [ 34.6.2590 / 10PM ] || Event
« on: May 29, 2017, 07:09:02 PM »
Erieen reacted about as well as Cole expected though, he hadn’t actually meant to offend him with the teasing. But like so very often, he hadn’t really considered how Erieen might take the comments. He’d just thought it and said it.
His focus on Erieen didn’t last long after he moved away though. There was too much chaos, too much going on. The pounding noise from the three reds was starting to grate. He was pretty sure he’d gone this long without it bothering him so much solely because of Vic and the blue’s tendency to crash his mind voice into Cole’s head.
Then five more eggs hatched and five more reds joined their siblings in their caterwauling. At least this didn’t seem like it was going to take as long as Imyth’s hatching. He wasn’t going to be pacing the sands to pass the time.
All of Cole’s carefree attitude dropped and he tensed as Cheyloni dropped beneath a mob of red hatchlings, screaming and jerking, until suddenly she was still and her screams stopped and even with the crashing noise of the reds and the screams from others, that lack of voice lent a strange vacuum of silence on the sands.
He’d known her. Not well, but he’d known her. They’d both been Harpers, and then Candidates, older Candidates at that. He was glad then that he didn’t know her well. His expressive face was set in a grimace, his eyes hard and angry. Again reaffirmed why he needed to keep people at arm's lengths. Why it wasn’t worth it to care about anyone but himself. Apathy was so much easier than this. Being numb was so much easier. 
Movement caught his eye, a flash of blond hair on a tiny boy. Cole didn’t even remember making the conscious decision to snake his arm out and pull Oarlen back. In a blink he had the boy pressed to him, arm around his chest, keeping him from trying to go to Cheyloni. He didn’t look down at Oarlen, didn’t try to say anything because there was nothing to say. There was no comfort to be had in this.
He didn’t need to look down, or hear Oarlen, to feel the kid shaking with his tears. He knew. Cole’s eyes stayed on O’sir as the Candidate Master knelt at the woman’s body and pressed his fingers to her neck. The expression was impossible to miss. Knowing what Cole knew now about O’sir and the man’s siblings he wondered how he could stand it.
Dully he registered the fact that Erieen was leading one of the red dragonets off towards the feeding area. ’Not a little blue anymore. Well done.’ He thought, though he knew he’d probably never actually say that to Erieen. One older Candidate dead. Another Impressed. Two more that he had to watch, in one way or another, get out of this limbo of Candidacy. It was impossible for him not to wonder which way he would eventually, inevitably, leave it.

Hatching Sands / Re: Déjà Vu [ 34.6.2590 / 10PM ] || Event
« on: May 29, 2017, 07:42:22 AM »
Colvin was very much not asleep when O’sir’s dragon called out to the Candidates. He wasn’t even in his room. Thankfully he was merely in the common area, still sitting at one of the desks with his instrument and Vic asleep in his lap. He hadn’t been sleeping much lately but that was nothing new. Restless energy kept him in a constant state of discontented awakeness.
Kalestath’s clutch is hatching. It’s time to get to the Sands. Don’t forget your robes, and to send your flits away--
Cole rolled his eyes. Faranth, the brown was even worse than O’sir. “Yes, mother.” He muttered to himself as he poked Vic. “Get up little rat, wanna come with? I’m sure Kalestath would love a midnight snack.” He teased the blue flit as Vic woke with a start and trilled indignantly and immediately went between to find Terra and V. He wasn’t interested at all in becoming a meal. Cole chuckled and stood slowly, stretching.
Even as Candidates began streaming out of the barracks in a panic and in states of half dress, he didn’t seem to care about the urgency. He smirked and smacked Zondesh’s ass as his roommate hurried by. “Go get’em killer,” he said.
Hurry! Some of the egs have already hatched. And be careful when you get here. There are more Reds…
“What a shock…” Cole muttered sarcastically as he found his robes and pulled them on. It wasn’t a shock. Everyone expected more blacks and reds. At least anyone who was smart should know that more were coming, this was obviously not a fluke despite what a good majority of Jungle wished. He walked to the sands, both managing to set a quick pace and at the same time seem to be sauntering slowly as if he had no important place to be.
Damage had already been done by the time he got there, Candidate’s bleeding, bumping into each other, scrambling around, red dragons scurrying about. Just another glorious night time Hatching! He took quick stock of who was injured, who was not. Oarlen wasn’t. Erieen was. Cabryn was doing her thing, herding the younger kids like a pro. O’sir looked physically ill.
He stalked up to Erieen, throwing an arm around his shoulder and pressing into the man’s personal space. Wordlessly he pressed close enough that his leg pressed against Erieen’s calf, intentional pressure to help stop the bleeding. It meant his own robes soaked up some of the blood but it didn’t matter.
“Wow, you really can’t keep anyone off you can you? Gonna charge the dragons for jumping you too? If only you could get an egg that way too.” He drawled with a wink. He didn’t linger long enough to let Erieen get to angry at him, or to draw O’sir’s attention.

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