The Death of Hubris

Writers: Erin Smith
Date Posted: 3rd August 2006

Characters: Vir'en
Description: Virnoren muses about his life.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 13, day 1 of Turn 3

After returning from his meeting with Isaline at the Weyrlake, Virnoren went back to his cot in the Apprentice quarters. He had been given the option to stay in the Candidate's barracks, but as most crafting, weyrbred candidates, he had opted to stay with the rest of the Woodcraft apprentices. The Candidate Barracks had a knack of being filled with Craft and Holdbred candidates, who were often completely unaware of how things worked at the Weyr. As a result, they either turned meek and timid, or became rambunctious once they were out of the careful control of their families or Craft Masters.
Virnoren would rather deal with having several bunk mates than any of that nonsense. Fortunately, his breaks between chores, classes and crafting were at a different time of day that most of the Woodcraft apprentices, so he did get some time to himself.

It was days like this that Virnoren was glad he was a candidate, for if he were not he would be required to attend logging camps far more frequently.
As it stood now, when there were no eggs on the sands, and no Candidate classes, he still got assigned there. But in his humble opinion, Candidate classes were far more interesting than time spent logging. Logging was the part of his craft he had the hardest time dealing with, as he excelled at pretty much every other aspect.
However, being short, and not overly brawny, logging was exceptionally difficult for him.

Rolling over onto his stomach in his bunk, Virnoren eyed several figures he had carved, that were sitting atop his clothes trunk.
Whittling was one of his favored pastimes, and dragons were his favorite thing to whittle, so most of the figures he had were of dragons. He occasionally made wooden toys for the weyrbrats as well, out of scraps he had left over from larger projects. In fact, most of the figurines sitting atop his trunk had been carved from the wood he had left over from making the trunk. He sighed as he surveyed the entirety of it. The trunk was definitely nice, especially for apprentice work. The entire thing was neat, and level, and the carving was nearly perfect. He had inlayed lighter stained wood onto the top of the trunk to produce the image of a gold and bronze dragon, who coiled around one another in flight. The entire trunk had been stained, buffed and polished to a shiny finish. **So this is it,** Virnoren mused to himself. **This is the sum of my life's work.** To say this wasn't entirely true, as he had myriad pieces that he had sold off, or used to barter.

But Virnoren longed for more meaning in his life; to do something that helped people, protected people, even saved people, that was what he lived for. He lived for the dream of what a dragonrider could be, the freedom they possessed, but at the same time, the duty and responsibility they had as well. He would rather give his life protecting Pern any day, than risk his life in a logging camp for little more than a bit of paper, and maybe a trunk or two for a Weyrwoman.

These dragon dreams, as he called them, had been haunting his sleep every night. He was nearly 20 turns old now, and thusly had only a turn left to find his lifemate. After this hatching, he'd have one to two more max, following the typical scheduling of gold flights at the Weyr. If he couldn't succeed in six turns, what was another turn going to help? Isaline's confidence in him did make him feel better.
He wasn't normally the type to require validation, but on this particular matter, he felt as though any positive things he could hear were better than none. Especially with the Hatching looming nearer every day.

Virnoren had had many reasons to be dissatisfied with his life as of recent.
His bed-mates had been less and less frequent, seeing how after a while the Weyr's non-rider women all seemed to blur together.
Virnoren tried to avoid dragonrider women, as he preferred the more innocent females, and greenriders were often hardly innocent. He was over the age necessary to walk the tables, but walking the tables would require the time commitment of working on his Apprentice Project. With all the feeling of rejection that he had from not Impressing, getting his project declined by the Masters would hardly help his demeanor. Then there was the matter of being a Candidate.
After 6 turns, the classes were hardly challenging, or informative any more.
Virnoren had also realized recently that he had no real close friends, which was something that he intended to amend as soon as he possibly could. One of his more recent flings had left him with a cutting comment: "Maybe if you could open up your heart more, you'd stop leaving the Hatching Sands alone."
He'd laughed it off at the time, but perhaps the girl was correct.

Virnoren sighed. His break was over, and he'd soon need to return to his classes. He wasn't sure though if his heart was really into it.

Last updated on the August 4th 2006

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The Death of Hubris