Abdiel, charming tailor's son. With about as much charisma as he has hair (and he has LOTS of that)

Standing over 6'6 and with the broad, strong shoulders usually found on a weyrbrat, Abdiel is hardly a big softie. He works with large looms, carries bolts of cloth and does heavy work but his prized ability for pattern making and detail, well, that's explained below.

Abdiel was rather shocked to discover that he'd been Searched.

Him? Ride a dragon? Well, he'd better look good doing it!

Of course, he would look doing just about anything. As far as he's concerned. Since he was thirteen turns old, Abdiel knew how to dress and how to make others look good in their own clothing. Always with an eye for detail, he has put Ladies in simple burlap and made their suitors have heart palpitations in doing so.

Now, at 17 turns, he is sure that some day, some where, there will be a weyr with his experienced hands aiding it. Not that Blackstone isn't enough for him, but he doubts that he'll stand on the sands there. After all, it was one of Dawn Sisters search riders who sniffed him out of a crowd! Read on to see how it all unfolded...

"Yes sir," Abdiel said, mouth still holding three long needles and hands still wrapped in colorful threads. "Coming..."

He stood, towered over the master Weaver easily by his whole head, and could fit two of him between the broad shoulders he had. The master weaver watched as the young man as he strode out to the courtyard. The people of Dawnlight Hold had long been used to this shuffling game, and everyone who had a relative that had Impressed thought highly of it.

Those who had lost relatives to Threadfall, on dragons... Well, they mainly kept silent.

"We've got most of the weavers and dye makers," said one of the Hold's stewards, "and several classes of the woodworkers coming."

"It's all right," said the rider, changing his expression and looking oddly at his blue dragon. "I think... we've got who we need right now. It's not a large clutch, so ... Ah."

The blue dragon nudged his rider, who went half-sprawling toward the candidate line. Some of the younger teens giggled behind their hands, then laughed out loud as the rider chuckled to himself too.

"I'm going, okay, see me go? Here?" He walked before the girls, and the dragon gave a snort. "Here? Oooookay, how about here?" He played a hot-warm game with the dragon, drawing out the torture of selection. Some potential candidates stood patiently, while others who would never be chosen desperately sweated and wished fervently.

They do not know I can hear them, bespoke the blue to his rider. They are ... not suited. But one is. That big strapping dark one in the back! He just got here!

"Who? Ah, here..." the rider, D'lom, strode between three young skinny girls, and nearly stepped over a very short lad, before he reached Abdiel. He was a broad-shouldered one, this dark skinned and handsome young man. "And what is your name?" D'lom asked.

Abdiel's eyebrows worked around on his forehead for a moment, before he pressed his thick lips together and remembered he'd still had the pins in his mouth. Better remove them before spitting them into a Search rider's face!

"Abdiel, sir. That is a fine looking dragon." He looked with ease over the heads of most assembled, at the brilliant shade of blue on the hide. "I could match that color, make a silken tunic that would have weyrgirls all over you. Or," he glanced briefly around with a smirk, "whoever..."

"Oh you could, could you?" D'lom said, almost blushing -- was this weaver-boy actually trying to flirt with HIM?

"I sure could."

"You'd be better off learning to work leather, since you're the one who's being searched here. And if you Impress on Dawn Sisters sands, you're going to be expected to put your own riding harness together." D'lom reached out and patted the broad warm shoulder of the weaver, and then turned.

With one eyebrow arched high, Abdiel watched D'lom as he sauntered away through the crowd. Sighs of disappointment and even a bit of whining from others didn't seem to register. Fly? A dragon? Why, of course! It was perfect!

And he could even probably make a matching scarf for flying!

"They're hatching! They're hatching!" Came a rousing cry from someone running down the hall. Abdiel groggily got up and blinked away the sleep he was enjoying so much, in favor of donning his white robe and moving with the other nine candidates to the sands.

"What a horrible robe," Abdiel complained. "How in the world did they decide on this awful material? Can it be any warmer? And while I look good in white, it's hardly the sort of thing one wants to be wearing when standing in a hot place with dragon-egg-goo on you!"

He was ignored for the most part.

Fortunately he was not ignored by the dragons. He watched as many others before him got their chance to impress. A brown -- not a bad start from a green's clutch -- came first. Then the parade of greens and blues. He had known this clutch would be filled with them, but he had no idea they came in such beautiful variation of shade!

With a pair of greens on the sands, almost the last eggs left, one of them tumbled herself into the boy standing beside Abdiel. The other green tried to dodge their antics and wound up resting in her own emerald heap at Abdiel's feet.

There you are! I do not think I want to be on these sands any longer than I must! Oh, Ab'el you must get me something to eat! That white robe looks nice and clean. Not like theirs outside. Look at them! Getting them all dirty! Oh! Oh! Is that food out there? Getting their robes all red?

"Yes it is, Lastineth, it is food, and you are right -- it's only as clean as we let it be!"

"You're a big girl now, Lasti, let's get you prettied up for this." Ab'el said, scrubbing down the emerald hide of his dragon. Lastineth lolled her head around, blissfully enjoying the bath.

When you say that, do you mean it? That I will be pretty? Or big?

"How about pretty big?" Ab'el laughed. Lastineth fortunately didn't get the joke. She was a big green, and her eating habits had never quite calmed down from her hatchling stage. She could now take down a wherry by herself, but she often didn't know what to do with herself afterwards.

It feels so... dirty! It always feels like I should be... I do not know... Using utensils or something. Like those things you use to eat. Especially when we camp out with the other weyrlings. I like that. I like the little fire you make.

"I hate camping with a passion, Lastineth, and so do you."

Do I? Oh! I do! Sorry! I forgot. I thought that it would be nice to have a quick meal on the way to the next one. Is that okay?

"Lastineth!" Ab'el cried out, as the dragon turned every which way. "Ever since you've learned to fly, you've been such a mess! Then you complain, and then I have to clean you. If you want to go camping..." he shuddered, "then go without me!"

I cannot do that! I do not remember where to go!

Ab'el muttered, "good..." and continued scrubbing.

"So she's been ... just flying around, and you've been letting her?" The weyrlingmaster at Dawn Sisters looked at Ab'el and the dark skinned man shrugged.

"It's ... very messy, that fire stone. You know, sir, that tunic could use a little sprucing up. I could--"

"You could have told me that she was skipping her firestone, Ab'el. She's not going to be of much use in a wing right now. Unless you fancy using a flame thrower tank yourself."

Ab'el's eyes widened. He hadn't even begun to think about the repercussions of Lastineth not being on Firestone. The last thing he wanted was someone -- particularly a wing leader or the weyrling master -- to think that he was shirking his duties to Pern!

What about MY duty to Pern!? I wish to show him that I'm just perfectly fit to be an egg-layer, Ab'el.

Ab'el looked at his green, who stood looking rather more regal than she'd been while he was getting taken down a notch by the weyrling master.

"She wants to Fly in a mating flight first, sir. And you know these dragons... You can't tell them no!"

"Will you look at that!" Ab'el said, and Lastineth dropped her head to look.

What are we seeing, my rider? I cannot see anything but some silly flitters.

"That's what we're looking at! Drop down there, try not to squish them."

Lastineth did as she was bid. The beach near Rohlen Hold was packed with flitters who had laid their eggs, and those eggs were now apparently hatching in droves! Ab'el got to the ground and gingerly picked his way through the dunes until he got to a good spot. There, he saw a number of pale eggs twitching. The sand dappling their surfaces bounced and fell off. The dark skinned young man reached into a pouch and took out some scraps of meat -- there were always scraps of meat when Lastineth was around. Then right when one nearest him broke shell, Ab'el reached out with a hunk of meat! Only to find that this golden monster had snatched his finger!

"Owch!"

See, they are nothing but trouble.

"She'll earn her keep," Ab'el said, nursing his wounded finger, but treasuring the color of the beautiful shining gold flitter. "Satinelle, that's her name. Just like the most beautiful satins and silks at the Hold. Let's get back, Lastineth, I want to see if a healer can fix this cut..."

(from Rohlen Hold which doesn't exist any more)