Welcome to Gaia! ::

The worst part about being a candidate while his closest friends were dragonriders was, for Rio, the differences in all their schedules.  He, of course, was on candidate time, while one friend was in one wing, one was in another, and one was a senior weyrling.  He had to catch them when he could, which meant usually individually, and sometimes frustratingly sparingly.  He did try his very hardest to keep up with everyone, though, while also taking care not to try too hard; he certainly didn't want to be That Friend who became known for monopolizing time, or couldn't take a hint when someone wanted time to themselves, or with someone other than him.  He did strive to be low maintenance as a friend, while also ensuring that they knew he was there, should they need or want him for anything.  He did so love to be helpful.

Perhaps that had just a little something to do with how quickly he'd gotten attached to Isilje (not that such a process was ever lengthy for him), who'd joined their group on the Sands only to Impress, and be 'stranded' far from more familiar High Reaches.  She'd needed a friend, and he'd been naturally inclined to oblige...with her dragon's permission.  Optimistic as he was, he sincerely doubted Brancath would ever like him, but he did at least seem to have her tolerance, which he did his best to remain worthy of.  So it was probably Isilje he was the most actively conscious of how much time he spent with, feeling there was a line to walk between being attentive to his friend and more attentive than her dragon might like.

But he was alright with that.  It was worth it, to have Isilje as a friend, and be there if and when she needed anything, even just company.  She, Alya, and L'nik were the driving reasons he'd opted not to participate in the candidate swap over at High Reaches, and given everything that had happened, he had no doubts that that had been the right choice to make.  Much as he wanted a dragon, he had a duty to the people already in his life to be here.  He couldn't fathom just swanning off and leaving them behind - not that they probably wouldn't be just fine, in the long run, but he didn't have it in him.

With Turn's End only a few sevendays away, and all his chores and assignments done for the evening, he ambled his way to Isilje's weyr for a promised visit, a little box of candies under his arm and his vibrantly green flit draped around his neck, pulling locks of hair free from his ponytail as he walked along.

Strolling his way to Isilje's weyr, Rio was of course oblivious to the fact that his visit might be cause for any sort of nervousness. He had not a care in the world for that state of the whiterider's weyr; so long as she was comfortable in it, whether it was tidy or cluttered didn't matter at all. And as for the state of Brancath, of course the white was exceptionally well taken care of, and it would never have entered his mind that she would be anything but in the best of condition. What good rider would ever neglect their dragon? And certainly Isilje was among the best.

The young man had a beaming smile for his friend, accompanied by a playful bow. "Is she? I'm glad to hear it!" His smile brightened further, and he called to her as he stepped in, "Good evening, Brancath!"

"The day's treated you both well, I hope?"

Queenie, meanwhile, had launched from her perch - leaving her bonded's hair in state of some disarray - to dart about with Dearest, chittering delight at the brown. She was every bit as friendly as her Rio, and ever-so happy for the company of other flits.

Whether he noticed the flush, or guessed that there might be anything to it, Rio breezed right along exactly as he would have regardless, all cheer and casual affection. His smile brightened even further to hear Isilje talk about her day, and to watch her expression as she talked about flying. She was happy, and it showed, and that couldn't make him anything but happy as well. "I'd like that," he replied, "If Brancath wouldn't mind, of course, and you have time someday."

He didn't know if he'd ever have real approval from the white, though she did at least accept his presence, and that he and Hers were close. She could easily have kept them from being so - they'd only met on the Sands, after all, it wasn't like they'd been friends for turns upon turns. But she'd allowed it, and continued to...though whether or not she'd allow him as a passenger, well. He had not the slightest idea. On the other hand, she did also speak to him far more than he'd ever imagined she would be willing to. It was definitely best not to make assumptions, however. He knew that well enough.

He accepted both his klah and his seat, which he settled comfortably down into, cradling the mug close in both hands. "Oh, it was just thrilling," he answered with a laugh, "Cleaning the stables is always a delight. And hearing for the thousandth time how we're expected to behave. Just another day in the life of a candidate."

Nothing against A'ral or any of the rest of their teachers, of course; in the wake everything that had happened at High Reaches, he certainly understood the emphasis and remedial lessons. And was still very, very, very glad he hadn't gone over to Stand.