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D'mar didn't have the time nor luxury to miss people. He'd never been the type to grow attached, to worry after those no longer around him, to take time out of his own day and plan to track them down. His twin, of course, had been the exception. They'd been split up three times now. Once, when he was sent away to the Courtesan Hall. Again, the worst, when thread had come and they'd spent months thinking each other dead. The final split had been much more manageable. What hole could appear in his hear that Strigonth did not fill? Certainly he still loved his brother, but that love, any love he'd know before, paled in comparison to the perfect soul-bond of a man and his dragon.

This seperation had undoubtedly been harder on Marinel than himself. Marinel was truly alone ("friends" nonwithstanding) and D'mar was not. Marinel was stuck in limbo, waiting and wondering, and D'mar's days were exceptionally full. In a blink it seemed that months had passed—Strigonth was now the taller of the duo, growing long and sleek and taking flight—and D'mar hadn't spent a single day with his twin.

And wasn't it worse that he'd been so very caught up, so busy, that he hadn't even realized it'd been so long? It hadn't even come to mind to try to find time for his twin, that one person whom he'd once held closer to his heart than any other?

He looked up sharply at Marinel's voice, the smile coming quick on the heels of recognition. It was good to see him...he seemed...calmer. The scar along his jaw and chin caught his eye...well on the road to healing, though not there yet. Marinel had come off far better in that regard than D'mar had. Even if remembering it all still made him feel rather unkind to the green that'd done it. Illiandinth he could get past, the damage had been done only to himself. This was different. Regardless, it was good to see that Marinel was growing up. He'd always love his brother, but they were none of them children any more.

"Of course." He crossed to his twin, clasping his arm and pulling the other briefly near for a half-hug, half-back-clap. "I imagine the candidate lessons are becoming rote for you now, having gone around the curriculum again.:" He strode out into the daylight from the barracks, feeling Strigonth's presence a step behind. the blue was, as always, near silent on foot, but D'mar knew where he was. He always knew. "Have you any word on which golds are glowing? Any?" Of course, D'mar already knew the status of every gold...but he also wanted to express his continued hope and excitement for Marinel's future prospects.

Marinel's hug lingered a bit longer than D'mar's would have, and that was so much how things had always been, it sent a bolt of fond nostalgia to D'mar's heart. They'd grown so very far apart in these last months. He couldn't regret it though. They were in different places, even though they lived in the same weyr. A weyrling and a candidate. In another month D'mar would be flying, fighting thread with the rest. Hopefully, at least. His bones had all mended, but there was still inflexible scar tissue here and there, and mornings he still woke up stiff, especially when bad weather was on the horizon. And Marinel's daily concerns for now came down to what chores he'd be assigned, and what was for dinner. Poor Marinel. Always left just a bit behind...

"It's strange, certainly, the effect this pass is having on the clutches. I remember I was looking over the clutch records with Sha—" The name died on his lips, the spark of excitement that had been in them at seeing his brother cooling rapidly. "Looking the records over just before Vimiath rose. It'd been too long then, too, it seemed." In truth he'd more or less stopped monitoring the golds as closely now that he'd gotten what he wanted (for now) from them. Knowing who rose when, who flew them, and the ever-shifting relationships in the weyr was important...but none would directly effect his life until Strigonth was older. And even then...a blue couldn't fly a gold. Though, knowing a green and a gold could be mates...well. They still had their interests to vest in.

"Two golds? Well now. Keeping high company, hmm?" That was a very good thing. A way in, blue and man agreed internally. Marinel had always been better at making new friends quickly...Together they shared a brief back and forth, in the span of a second. "Perhaps that gold will rise then, and clutch, and whisper of you to one of her eggs." It would be nice to know that Marinel had a partner that cared for him as intensely as Strigonth did for himself. Someone willing to live and die for him. Marinel deserved that happiness. "By then I expect we'll be flying in one of the wings. Perhaps, if it takes more than one more clutch, we could be wingseconds by the time you're impressed and flying. Put in a good word to pull you into our wing, maybe?"

D'mar cracked a bit more of a smile at that thought. "You, in a records room? Though it would be rather amusing if that did set a gold off rising." And then he remembered again whom he'd been with when that'd happened, and he imagined a similar thing happening to Marinel...well. No. Perhaps he should dissuade such things. And that jogged an older memory...one of...no, no, surely not. He'd thought for a moment he'd remembered seeing someone, another man, kissing his twin at the hatching. But he'd been brutalized and concussed, so surely that was just a figment of his rattled brain.

"Give us a bit longer and you'd be welcome to catch a ride with us. Though I imagine there won't be too many more like that. It's a shameful thing, that gold laying her eggs so irresponsibly. And...you won't be standing at any High Reaches clutches." It was a statement far more than a question. His brother would never want to leave where he was. And D'mar didn't want him to leave either. "Though perhaps it would be better to let this Killakeeth carry you. Forging bonds, especially with our Weyr's queens, is important." His own Strigonth had begun to forge a path with the newborn Khamaith as well. He really had been slacking, D'mar had. The nets must be cast wider.

The idea of Marinel being his wingleader was funny enough that he let slip an actual laugh! "One of my wingleaders, once I'm weyrleader of all of Western, right?"

Marinel's frown did not go unnoticed, but it was simply...not part of the makeup of the world as far as D'mar knew, to imagine his twin in any position higher than his own. If Marinel was weyrleader, then it was because D'mar was dead. Dead or Weyrleader of another weyr. His brain refused to even begin to compute how it'd feel to have to take orders from him. It was like imagining if suddenly rain fell up, or if dragons gave up flight for diving into the sea. It wasn't how the world worked.

Regardless of where it leads to, I'm certain you'll impress soon enough. One or another of our golds will rise, and make just the egg for you, you'll see." He paused a moment, considering. "If you had to pick, pick any color to be yours, what would you like to impress?" He if anyone knew that sometimes what you wanted wasn't what you needed or would get, but he'd heard Marinel talk of greens and blues before. But was that what he wanted?

D'mar could have laughed. "Where would I be, if not watching? no, Strigonth and I will be perched on a ledge to see you meet your destiny on the sands." That or curled next to the gold that'd laid it, if they had their way. Strigonth might never sire an egg, but that didn't mean he couldn't claim them as his own once some brown or bronze did the job. "Remember Marinel, we are in Western. Just because you sit a brown or blue doesn't mean that you won't find yourself looked to for leadership. What about Strigonth and I? His hide isn't bronze, but can you see him as anything but an important dragon?" He couldn't. But then, he was the lone soul privy to the ever-turning wheels inside the blue's head. They were a fine a match as ever Pern had made, given the situation.

"I think you'd do fine on any." He chose his words carefully. He did want the same bond he and Strigonth had for his twin. It was a love beyond love. Beyond anything they'd felt before. Beyond even the bond between twins. "I wouldn't be shocked if a blue came for you as well. Then we'd be proper twins again, wouldn't we?" And he'd become rather fond of that color of dragon. Why wouldn't he be?

"I'm sure he could at that," Strigonth, the clever beast, had churred in agreement. He'd be all too happy to spread his wing over whatever dragonet chose his rider's twin, and help him along the path. "There's a thought. The candidate and weyrling masters are always in need of assistance. Perhaps it's a bit early, but you've always been the patient sort, Marinel. That might be a good fit for you and your dragon. And then up to master yourself, perhaps?" It was a very important ob, shaping the skills and minds of the younglings. And with his tremendous energy, Marinel would no doubt thrive at the task.

"But yes. A blue for us both, I think." He had his perfect, dark Strigonth. If Marinel's were just as bright as his own was subtle, well. That might be just right! And fitting too. They were twins, but different in personality. Both blues, but still notably different here too...yes, he liked that mental image quite a lot. "I've heard that blues also make grand search dragons. The best, in fact. It might be fun to travel to the Holds, to see children like we were, and give them a chance like we've had." It would also be a good way to gather information about the Holds, the tithes, and the political climates therein. He himself might not mind such a job, while he worked his way upwards elsewhere, he realized.

Hearing such a determined statement, the firm desire to accomplish and succeed at something, pleased D'mar. "If you want to do that, then I think you'd be able to. I know you'd work at it, and I think your excitement, your friendly attitude would be grand for it. Some of the newly-searched might be afraid, or worried, and you've ever been a positive sort." He clapped Marinel on the shoulder, already imagining their future. "So, that just means we need to get you your dragon, hm? Perhaps your gold friends will be saddened if it's a blue that claims you, but I won't be." He really meant it to. "Us both on blues feels right." Now it did, at least. Now that his own position on the system of dragons' colors had shifted.

"What do you think your dragon will be like?" His Strigonth was all he'd dared to hope for and more, even thought he'd not realized it initially. How any creature could be so perfect for him, and he for it, was a continual mystery. "Sometimes dragons seem just like their riders. And sometimes they seem the opposite. Have you thought about it? What yours might be like?"