Being a Dragon Candidate was still something that didn't feel quite real to Fanciol. He was a slave, a fighter...And he might get a dragon. The entire idea of it was nearly ridiculous. His mother would tell him he was trying to go above his station. But prythe had convinced him to try, at least once. Worst case scenario, he would be left Standing, and he would have to find something else to do with himself. Considering his skill set, he would probably try to be a guard or something.
He placed a small green swirl on the rock he was painting, a little thing that fit perfectly in the curve of his palm. It was still a nice day, no autumn rains yet. It should dry and he could leave it in the Weyr Yard. Maybe someone would find it. Maybe they wouldn't. Either way, that wasn't the point of what he was doing. He hadn't had a chance to paint anything since fleeing Walled, and he had finally made a little brush for himself, wrapping some runner hair at the end of a small twig, and gotten a hold of a few drops of scrap paint.
It felt good to be painting again. A small smile curled his lips as he hunched over his lap, carefully adding tiny dots along one edge of the swirl. He'd have to switch to a different color soon, and glanced sideways towards a small piece of wood that had his bits of paint on it. Only a few colors. A blue, a red, and a nice little shade of purple he had managed to get a tiny dollop of. He had a small jar of water next to him too, to rinse the one self-made brush. A few little additions, and there, that was it, he was done! Eyeing the pebble, he gently blew on it to encourage it to dry.