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In an effort to preclude the same sort of trouble that had plagued him these last nine turns, A'iel had made a point upon arrival at Western Weyr to track down the candidate master and introduce himself and his dragon. Odds were it wouldn't stop the incidents, but it would, hopefully, abbreviate them, and make it that much quicker to get them done and over with. It had gone over as well as he'd hoped...excepting that the candidate master was not on hand, and that he'd gotten turned around, and now he was somewhat lost amidst the sudden crush and rush of candidates streaming into the barracks after dinner or lessons or wherever they'd been. They were certainly a rowdy bunch, and he dimly wondered if he'd ever been that...bouncy.

Certainly he'd never been, nor would he be, as tall as some of the boys roaming about in throngs. It was making it shardingly hard to see across the room to try to find the...he'd been sure he'd come in from that side of the room, but it didn't look like there was any sort of doorway...

I know that I am on the east side of the weyr, A'iel, and that you went in here... Along with the brassy rumble of Nasath's voice came a mental image of one of the main hallways. Though you also don't feel particularly close by. You should ask someone for assistance, or directions. I don't think they'd bite, since they're not wherries, or whers. Or tunnelsnakes...

He could do nothing but shake his head at the bronze's rambling, but sighed too. He was right. The candidates seemed to be settling in to stay, or at least, they weren't flowing back out of the room any time soon. He'd managed to spot a door...but there was another. And a third. He really didn't want to be found wandering aimlessly on his second day at the weyr...apparently when he looked confused it only made him look more like a helpless, lost child. At random he picked out one of the candidates and wove his way over through the throng. "Pardon. Can you point me in the direction of the weyrbowl?" He blinked up at the much taller youth, doing his best to stand tall and proud.

A'iel leaned back, away from the younger boy as he stretched. He'd really sort of forgotten what it was like to share space so freely, though he'd also barely spent any time as a candidate before impressing... Maybe he just couldn't remember terribly well any more. It had been almost a decade ago now... His eyes widened a beat later when the young man spoke, confusion plain. "There's a curfew?" He was new to the weyr, and he'd been forewarned that Western was run a bit differently. Not to mention that rules and schedules had changed in all the weyrs since thread had returned. He supposed that made sense though. If thread fell early then riders would want to be abed early too, and rested up.

Of course, that meant it was doubly important that he get back to his own weyr as quickly as possible. The teen hadn't claimed not to know the way, and saying there was nothing going on in the bowl could be taken as him actually having been there fairly recently, or enough to know, so... He'd do, A'iel decided. "I need to get there, so you'll show me the way." He did his best to sound confident—what kind of rider got lost in the weyr? Both hands came to rest on his hips, an intimidating, chest-out stance...for anyone decently tall or broad, and when the person they meant to intimidate wasn't at least half a foot taller than them. His brows furrowed and his lips pinched in what was meant to be a firm scowl, but came off more like a pout; wide pale green eyes blinked determinedly up, long lashes all but fluttering. Oh yes, he was about as intimidating as a baby herdbeast.

A'iel almost bit out some retort, ready to scold the young man for daring to assume his rank, ready to take insult at the drop of a hat after so many turns of teasing, but he bit it back with a keen smile when the boy agreed, at last, to his request. "Please then, and thank you as well." He strode after the candidate, internally checking the door over for any distinguishing marks. He would, no doubt, have to find his way back from this room more than once or twice more in the near future, so he'd best come to learn the right way.

"So. You've been at Western long?" His steps were quick, partly out of eagerness, and partly out of the need to keep pace with the taller youth's longer stride. "I'm new, I'll admit. Not that you hand't probably guessed." Actually, if the boy thought he was another candidate, this might be good. A chance to suss out the general attitudes of the place, see how many had been standing long, what their thoughts were now that their position meant they'd be seeing battle, and not just potentially having a perfect life partner to rely on. "I hadn't heard anything about recent clutches. I can't imagine what it'd be like to be left waiting time after time." He'd impressed his first time on the sands, after all, but he'd seen friends and once-agemates left standing, and growing more and more desperate. "I hope there's a gold flying soon. d'you know when the last one was?"

Well that was convenient. With how many dragons were flooding back to weyrs now, with thread returned and decimation across Pern, it was nice to know that some folks had been here...well, from the start. Their start at least. He'd known that Western was up and running before leaving Benden, but as self-contained as Benden itself had become? They'd been less equipped than this place, in the end, clearly. The fact that the boy was teasing him a little about being new was nothing new, but he felt a surge of genuine fondness for the younger man when he slowed up a bit. A'iel could have kept pace of course, but it showed a sympathetic heart, which was a good thing if you asked him.

"Two turns ago? Faranth between," The startled curse slipped out before he could check it, brows furrowing and head shaking slightly side to side. "That long, truly? I should hope so then. Has Western only got the one gold, then?" So long between clutches wasn't that unusual, really, but it must have been agonizing to wait so long for the candidates, at least those really wanting to fly, or to fight. "I only stood the once at Benden, but as far as I recall, a gold was up every turn or so...maybe every 20 months. And I know at least one bronze who'd be happy to see one glowing, though really I can't imagine any bronze wouldn't." Wherever he was listening in, Nasath was thrumming with pleasure. If a gold did rise, he'd be after her as quickly as possible, he confirmed!

"Two golds..." It seemed like not quite enough. Perhaps for any other turn, but now with thread back? Two seemed an awfully thin line between thriving and the death of the weyr. Perhaps, then, the next that flew would lay another golden egg. There were a number of weyrless golds about too, so perhaps they'd come to roost when their time came to rise. Some weyrs might be hesitant about letting golds of that sort of nature or quality come to spread their bloodlines, but if you asked him, they didn't have much choice. Better than risking low numbers with thread falling from the skies.

"Well, to be honest..." This was his new home now. He'd seen life at Benden, and wanted to do more. There was no shame, right? "I didn't like much of how it was being run. I'm sure you know, before thread came back...it was more like...like a memory of a weyr than a real one. I stood there, yes, but then...well. I wanted to fight. To be a real rider, not just the keeper of some old records." Benden was a fighting weyr now, too, but he'd been pushed around one too many times to have trusted it'd treat him fairly. Yes, he rode bronze, but shardit he'd wanted to earn respect properly. He was a hard worker, and he deserved that much at least, surely.

"Oh of course! And I imagine you candidates'll be glad as can be come the day for eggs on the sands." The halls were starting to look familiar now, and he could almost feel Nasath's presence growing closer. "Though I can't say I've ever heard of a blue catching a gold. I'm not sure what sort of clutch that'd make...Though I guess if a green and a gold can be in love, right?"

Yes, yes this hall was the right one! A'iel's legs were almost a blur as he picked up the pace, the excitement to see his dragon mirrored back at him, building and building to leave him almost breathless for a moment. He still never got over that feeling, the pure love and joy from Nasath...and he hoped he never did. Maybe Jarah would come to know that thrill too someday soon! A'iel reached out, one hand palming the heavy door out of into the bowl, and then, a push!

Light lanced in rays onto the pair, one perfect view of the bowl before a shadow blocked it out. A huge bronze head dipped down, nosing forward to thrust against that same raised hand, fitting against it with perfect practiced ease. A large bronze eye fixed on the young man at his rider's side, whirling with amused delight. He thought you were a candidate, A'iel. But you don't seem mad. That's a nice change. The bronze rumbled, a low keening chuckle of a sound as he lumbered backwards to not completely block the way out of the halls. A'iel shook his head at the big dragon, mentally swatting his flank for teasing. "No, not any more. Not for...Faranth, it'll be ten turns next summer." His brows pulled together in something between an apology and a sort of resigned pain. "Though you're not the first to mistake me for one. Today, even." It was a sad fact of life...but Jarah had been very friendly about the whole situation. And if he HAD been a candidate, he'd have felt he made a new friend indeed. Hopefully the boy would impress. And maybe the egg he got would be one Nasath even sired.