Promising

Writers: Corrin, Devin
Date Posted: 28th April 2025

Characters: M'sar, Q'helias
Description: Mesarian meets Qelhelias and has some questions about Candidate life.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 5, day 15 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: Q'vettan

Q'helias

The first two drudges refused to tell him anything, but the third
finally did when he showed the token. Mesarian stepped into the
Candidate barracks and looked around, keen eyes assessing. He stopped
short when he caught sight of a handsome man with dark hair and olive
skin. "Well, helloooo . . ." He looked him up and down with a grin.
The number of people at the Weyr made Mesarian twitchy, but on the
bright side, the place was crawling with hot guys.

Qelhelias generally thought he had better things to do than to hang
around the candidate barracks. He was a journeyman, for Faranth’s
sake. Buuut… he was a young journeyman, and most of his peers were
either out on their own craft circuits or in the barracks, waiting for
their lives to begin. That meant Helias had to come to the barracks to
see his friends. So he was lounging in the common area, reading a book
and waiting for lessons to let out, when Mesarian came in.

“Hello,” he echoed back with slow and rising amusement. The other man
was knot-less, and looked short more than a few good meals. One of the
infamous Holdless then? A bold one too. Just two words and a look, and
Helias would already hazard a bet as to why the fellow was out in the
caves instead of a hold somewhere. He closed his book with a faint
smile. “And what are you doing here?”

There was no bite to the question, just a curious anticipation.

Mesarian held up the Search token. "Got one of these." Then he flicked
it into his palm and tucked it away, like it was a mark someone might
try to steal. "Thought I'd check things out." He gave Qelhelias
another look. "Seems promising already."

Well, well… It seemed it _had_ finally happened. One of the Holdless
had indeed been Searched. His grandmama was going to be furious.

Intrigued, Qelhelias tucked his book under his arm and strolled over.
He came to a stop just in front of Mesarian, looking him over with a
languid sweep that took in rough cut hair, the overlarge clothes that
made the wearer seem even thinner. He stopped on those bold eyes and
leaned in slightly, his voice low. “Promising, huh? Because you like
what you see here? …Or because you want to be a dragonrider?”

Mesarian's hand itched for a knife. But no, this was a challenge, not
a threat. "Both," he said, though he wasn't sure about being a
dragonrider. There was Thread, of course, and all this . . .
structure. Rules. "You're a Candidate, yeah? What's it like?"

It was indeed a challenge and Qelhelias’ lips quirked into an
almost-smile as Mesarian scraped past it. If he had persisted only in
flirting, Helias would have had no patience for him. Now he leaned
back into his own space, his hands resting easy in his pockets. “Yeah,
I’m a candidate, when it matters. It’s a lot of work. Lessons. Chores.
A curfew. It’s not glamorous, but it’s to prepare for what can come
after…”

He eyed Mesarian again, weighing him up. “Do you know your ballads?”
He seemed curious, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Dragonriding means
you are subsumed--joining--something bigger than yourself. Your life
is changed. Forever. You become tied in service to the Weyr, to Pern,
until the sky stops trying to kill us. …That’s what it’s like. Does
that still sound “promising”?”

Mesarian weighed potential answers and finally went with the truth.
"No. But neither does going back out there."

"Fair enough," said Qelhelias, a glint of approval in his dark eyes.
"There are no eggs on the sands right now, so you'll have some time to
think about it. But I _do_ suggest you think about it, long and hard.
There are people here who _want_ to serve. Don't just be here to get
out of the cold."

Getting out of a cold, crowded tent was definitely high on Mesarian's
list. "Well, came here to feel things out instead of saying yes right
away." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Think I'm not good enough for your
precious Weyr?"

Heedless of the potential danger--of the knives on the other man--or
perhaps just taking an educated gamble, Qelhelias tilted his head and
smiled. "I'm not as hasty with my judgements as some," he said
smoothly. "I've found brilliant minds and priceless voices out in the
lowliest of cotholds. I don't know what you are yet. I just want you
to know what you're getting into. You're starting off alright, asking
around, but bristling like that won't do you any favors."

"I'm used to being judged. By everyone," Mesarian said. "Why are you a
Candidate then?"

Well, lately he was a candidate because of a deal he'd made with his
father, but that wasn't _really_ why Qelhelias Stood. He let the
question hang in the air a moment, his expression sharpening into
something more somber and intense. He had thought a lot about this
since his conversation with Q'vettan. "I'm a candidate because I know
what's at stake."

"I've seen what Thread can do. Dragonfire is the thin shield between
civilization and utter annihilation," he continued in a strong voice.
"And that shield has to be constantly reforged. Each clutch filling
the ranks of the fallen. I'm a candidate so that we can grow crops in
the open fields, so that our world can grow green and lush with the
seasons, and no one has to live their lives flinching at the sky and
ducking into caves-- unless they want to."

That last bit was a concession to the Holdless who chose the life.

"I'm here--again--because it's the right thing to do. Because if you
have the aptitude and the stomach for it, then choosing _not_ to Stand
would be the most selfish thing in the world-- just next to Standing
for the wrong reasons."

"Hm. You're even hotter when you're passionate." Mesarian gave him a
crooked smile. Then he turned serious. "Everything has a price. I just
want to see if this Candidate thing is worth the cost. Thread?" He
shrugged a shoulder, although the thought of it terrified him. "Been
fighting to stay alive for Turns. At least I'll be warm and fed and
only have to worry about getting killed about once a sevenday."

Qelhelias smirked at the persistent flirtation, but gave no other
acknowledgement. He was serious too. "Like I said, give it some
thought. Maybe attend a few classes, talk to the weyrling masters.
Just sort it out before Hatching Day, because if a dragon chooses you,
there's no going back."

Mesarian scoffed. "Wouldn't be the first time I made a decision I
can't take back."

"No," said Qelhelias thoughtfully. "But it would be the last time it's
ever only You to worry about when you make your decisions. You will
become forever a 'We', and your dragon will soar or suffer with you."

That was a commitment, and a lot of responsibility. But it also meant
Mesarian would never be alone again, that he would have a _home_, and
the yearning was as sharp as any blade. "They say the dragon is the
one who choses. That true?"

"It is. You can stand there for Turns, trying your sharding best to be
ready, and open and willing-- but it's down to the dragons in the
end." Qelhelias paused as a thought struck him and he amended, "Some
people _try_ to force it and do fool things like jumping in front of
hatchlings or, I hear, sneaking food onto the Sands... the new
goldrider did that, apparently. But that's more a recipe to be mauled
than it is a path to Impression. Don't do that."

"Pfft, I'm not that desperate," Mesarian said, though part of him
wondered if there was any way he could gain an advantage . . . _if_ he
actually decided to Stand. "If a dragon wants me, then it wants me,
right?"

"Yes. That's all there is to it in the end."

Mesarian nodded thoughtfully. Putting himself out there at all would
mean facing rejection. He shook that thought off and gave Qelhelias
another long, slow look. "I'm Mesarian, by the way. If you want a good
time, come see me."

"Qelhelias," he said with a slow smile, looking back just as boldly,
amusement dancing in his dark eyes. This Mesarian was forthright, he'd
give him that. "Try that line after a few more meals at the weyr, and
I might take you up on it. Right now you look more liable to break than to give
me a good time."

Helias nodded generally at the other man's thin build and overlarge
clothes. He found the overall effect waifish and it inspired his pity
more than his passion. "I'll see you around." Neatly side stepping
Mesarian he headed for the door.

**I don't break.** Mesarian glared at his back for a moment, but then
shook it off. Qelhelias _was_ hot and hadn't treated him like scum. So
. . . still promising.

Last updated on the May 1st 2025

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Promising