You enter one of the candidate's rooms. In a corner on the ground are shavings of a soft wood, and lying with them is a knife in its brightly painted scabbard. There is a cot with a large trunk sitting next to it; the lid is open and inside, at least on the top layer, are little puppets. One is human, and a few are fire-lizards. The blue fire-lizard has a gapong, hungry mouth with a strange grin and bold eyes, and the green fire-lizard carving is sleek and refined, with narrowed purpke eyes and small sharp claws. The human one doesn't quite seem to be done, as it hasn't yet been painted, but it seems to represtent a human of average build, and no head.
The ceiling of the weyr is dome-shaped, and has been smoothed somewhat. The sun's rays steams in from a half-shuttered skylight. Outside on the patio is a lean man with a paintbrush in his hand. You walk towards him, and your footsteps betray your presence. He looks up from where he's crouched and smiles.
"Hello," he says, "I'm Jeril. Just a candidate right now." His brown hair, while short, Has a slight curl to it. Two amused light green eyes see you from a calm face. "I guess I'll see soon enough if I can remedy that last and become J'ril. What brings you here?"
Curiousity, you anser with a shrug. He shows you the half-painted head he's been working on, the eyes still bright with wet paint. "It's a pet project of mine. A hobby," and he sets his brush down, "the truth is that I wanted to be a harper, but it would've hurt my mother more then I'd care to think about. My father was, and I never knew him. There was thread falling one day and he just didn't come back." His eyes become shaded as the eyelids close halfway, and he peers out into the Weyr's Bowl. "Anyone could've told her being a rider's as dangerous, if not more so, but I guess she doesn't want to lose her whole family with the same mistake. I guess my Father wasn't really there for her after he discoveed his talent."
He stands up slowly and beckons you back into the weyr. Pulling out the two fire-lizard carvings from his trunk, he places barely visable stings attached to the joints of the carvings onto his fingers. The blue one hangs from his right hand and the green one hangs from his left. With the slightest movements to his fingers, the green one moves as if flying mid-air. Its flight is graceful and cool. As it approaches the blue one the fire-lizard stops and twists her neck to the limp blue one as if in curiousity. Suddenly both are moving together. The effect is remarkably lifelike. Then both stop in midair and Jeril glances up at you, a lock o his dark brown hair managing to get in the way.
"Like it?" But before you can answer, he's already placed the items back in his trunk and shut the lid. "Nevermind. I guess I shouldn't dwell on it." He sighs, sitting on the bed with his elbows against his knees and his hands against his forehead. "Anyway, if you'd like to see my journal, feel free to." His foot points to the floor of the weyr, and a small one-page journal sitting opened.