[Merry] Ass-Kissing Will Get You Nowhere

[Jabberwoky]

It seemed even in this illness-stricken, degenerate Weyr, candidates knew their place. Mostly.

W'lod was waiting for the assigned candidate to come assist with his bronze. They were late, because of course they were here. There was hardly any discipline here, even among other riders. He had noticed a lack of many things, and so far he had kept himself a dragonlength away from both his wingmates and other more insignificant members of this mess of a Weyr. Velenuth was just stretching out on his ledge, wings outspread so he could soak up the sun.

The servants are late. Velenuth complained, shorting with a dragon's idea of a scowl.

Candidates.

Servants.


Before the arguments could really start, W'lod finally heard the knock at his door.

"Come in." His voice was cold, and stern.

[memerina]

It should not have been in Augustine's modus operandi to act like she was lesser than a Rider.

To her, she wasn't. She was as important a member of the Weyr as anyone else here, and just because a dragon hadn't had the courtesy to pick her yet, that didn't make her any lesser. She would Impress eventually. She just had to wait for her dragon to come, of course -- even if everyone she knew had Impressed before her, right in front of her eyes, not that she understood Bet'ti's potential at all. She'd moved on, now, from whatever horrendous relationship that wicked girl and Jace probably had. She told herself time and time again she didn't care about them anymore. Couldn't get them out of her brain, but she didn't care, obviously. She didn't have time to care. Once a dragon looked her in the eyes, she wouldn't have time to care.

She found it, to some degree, downright insulting that she hadn't been picked yet. All she did was suck up to Dragonriders against her will for the chance of joining their ranks, and it seemed to get her nowhere. When she found out she'd been drafted to help wash a Bronze, she loathed the very prospect. They were stupidly huge, there was too much surface area on them.

Regardless, maybe-- maybe there could be an opportunity. To make a connection, or two. Maybe her potential could be recognised and she wouldn't have to live the rest of her life being a rag-wielding glorified servant. She refused to accept the possibility.

She knocked at the door, swallowing her venom and batting her eyelashes as the man beckoned her inside. She had put her bitterness on the same dusty, rotten shelf where she kept her poor excuse for a sense of integrity, trading it out for the adorable little Candidate that'd bag her a sure shot at Impression someday.

"Bronzerider W'lod, and Velenuth, it is a pleasure to help you today--!!" She curtsied, gracefully. "I would be honoured to assist you with your dragon. Please instruct me as you need."

[Jabberwoky]

"You're late."

W'lod's tone remained cold. He was not a man who hid his emotions. His disdain for Augustine's lack of punctuality was very clear. What sort of useless candidates were late to their duties? No wonder she clearly had failed to impress. At Benden, he was sure she would have been drummed out quickly. Or at best she would be on a green, and sent to the skies as fodder. It was how lesser riders were supposed to be used.

He snapped his fingers, and Velenuth yawned. The bronze got up, waddling his fat butt inside to plop down and start demanding attention. Girl, make sure you get under my chin. If you're useless then I'll let everyone know for sure.

W'lod was not going to correct his bronze.

He motioned to the buckets of oil and brushes, not subtly telling her to get to work.