Hate [Open]

[Fel]

Ealar sat by the side of the chilly lake, stewing. He hated them. All of them. The only problem was, he didn't even know who they were. Whoever had poisoned his food. Whoever had done something to make someone want to poison the Weyr.

Whoever was okay when he wasn't.

Hadn't he and his family been through enough? What had he done to deserve this? Every brief muscle cramp had him terrified that another seizure was on its way, but it had been days now. Was whoever had done this happy that he had more reasons to be afraid now than he even had when he'd been Holdless? Were they happy that his hands weren't steady and everything was just blurry? Were they happy that practically the entire Weyr was turning paranoid?

Staring out at the glassy blur of water wasn't helping his mood any, but it was better than looking for trouble. Or being where he could find it even though he wasn't looking for it. There were no answers out there, but at least there wasn't anyone trying to kill him—or whatever the goal of the poisonings even was—there. Just a smooth, empty expanse. He sat there for a while, shaggy blonde hair ruffled by the wind, until he heard footsteps nearby and turned.

"What do you want?" he asked, trying not to sound bitter. He definitely sounded at least a little bitter.

[Dragon]

Veryn didn't think anything of approaching the lake with her barely mature dragon flouncing along at her side. Fall meant it was starting to get noticeably chilly, and she was determined to spend as much time in places Molloth could follow before winter set in and the cold drove her to spend most of her time indoors.

Thankfully, neither she nor Molloth had been affected by the poisoning. Yet. Hopefully, they would stay unaffected. The puppyish little blue would definitely not understand what was going on if he got poisoned, but unfortunately, there was nothing Veryn could do to protect him that she wasn't already doing. They both had to eat.

When the shaffy-haired boy, about her younger sibling Telniel's age, bitterly asked what she wanted, Veryn paused. His knots put him as simply one of the weyrfolk, and he looked - although she couldn't really tell with him seated - to be close to Veryn's own height and build.

"I was just spending some time wandering around with Molloth," she answered.

Hello, hello, hello! Molloth greeted, reaching out to nudge the boy with his cute, rounded nose. I am Molloth, and this is my Veryn. I picked her. I don't remember picking her, but I know I did!

Veryn grinned. "Molloth can be a bit silly." She tipped her head to the side slightly. "Are you thinking about candidacy? You look about the right age for it."