[Statistics] [Candidate] [Hatchling] [Weyrling] [Adult]
"No! How many times do I have to tell you, stupid boy!" The Master Healer's face was bright red and he wrung his pudgy hands stressfully.
Galan, a tall, lanky sort of young man with passionate dark brown eyes, tried to calm down. It would do no good to react badly now.
He had been apprenticed to the short-tempered Healer for three turns now, and since then had made good progress. Though not good enough, it seemed. Running a hand through short medium-brown hair, the apprentice said with a sigh, "I'm sorry. I am trying."
The Master rubbed his hands across his face and took a deep breath. "Alright," he said softly, forcing himself to calm. "Let's go through this again."
About two candlemarks later, Galan had finally got it down pat. It was the end of a very trying sevenday and all the apprentices had gone through the same frustrations. He was the last. They were being taught a new method of sewing together flesh for bad cuts and a special way of bandaging them. It was challenging to say the least, and practising on pieces of wherry-flesh was just plain gross.
With a look of profound relief and a muttered farewell, the Master Healer left his apprentice and headed straight for the Weyr's single tavern.
Galan took a deep breath to calm himself and figured it would probably be a bad idea to get a mug of ale to relax him at this point. Firstly because the reason for his anxiety was sitting there at this moment, second because it generally wasn't encouraged amongst the youth of the Weyr - especially those with prospects of Impressing.
It had been just the day before that Galan had been Searched by a greenrider from Lasair Weyr, and it hadn't quite sunk in yet. Perhaps when he transferred to the candidate barracks it would sit a little better.
As it was, the Healer was rather uneasy about the whole idea. He'd grown up in the Weyr and knew what made a good rider simply by observation.
Bronzeriders were good leaders with strong personalities and usually an easy-going attitude.
Brownriders were intelligent, sensible, and generally had that hint of leadership skills good for Wingseconds and possibly the odd Wingleader.
Blueriders were a funny lot. Galan had met a number of blueriders and found himself perhaps the most like them, except for the matter of sexuality. He was most certainly not attracted to other men, and blueriders were.
And lastly the greenriders - flighty, sexually open, fun-loving sorts. Another no.
Not that he really had the choice. It just occurred to him that if a man didn't like other men like that then a dragon would probably not choose him... or something. Right? But no matter how hard he thought on it, he couldn't quite figure out which colour he was best suited for.
Galan sighed. He had been chosen for leading in the past - he'd been head of his apprentice group since not long ago, and seemed quite a success. But he was somehow too small and insignificant to hold such esteem as bronze. So, he could swing any way, really. He shrugged to himself, walking slowly and kicking a rock along the ground absently.
He wondered if he'd Impress at all.