Table for four

[aiveylem]

What: E'sere and Aivey their first (and last) getting to know you dinner with special guests Islay and T'gar. Before the festivities can even start, it becomes a competition.
Who: Islay, T'gar, E'sere and Aivey
Where: Their place


E'sere is home early. He's also working harder than he usually does. The weyr is as spotless as any weyr can be, with all his and Aivey's clothes and personal effects packed out of the way and the bed made impeccably. The fire has been swept free of ashes and the wood neatly stacked alongside the outside wall in preparation for later in the evening. Right now, he's procured four of the small grass mats woven by some of the islanders, and is arranging them in a precisely spaced circle next to the fire. He asks Morelenth, who looks bored and exasperated already, "Should I put them around the fire? I don't think we should talk around the fire, though. We can put the food in the middle this way, though. Should Aivey sit opposite me or beside me? To my right? Do I put T'gar beside me and opposite her, or the other way around. I think the head of the table is in front of the fire, but then that's so hot should it be the other way?"

Aivey is home, though safely out of the way of the insanity that is E'sere's fussing over the dinner plans. Currently in the far back of the weyr readying herself, she listens with half a ear to his fussing. There is a grin. Endeared. Or annoyed. It's quite hard to tell. Either way she arrives just as E'sere gives Morelenth a brief respite. "E'sere, it looks fine. Well, except for that mat there... it's a little crooked," A mat at random is picked out and pointed to; salt in an open wound, "-now come on. Just take a deep breath and relax. They'll be impressed, I promise." Hopefully so. Aivey has at least made an attempt at impressing. Her hair is pulled into a simple updo, her clothes clean and pressed. "Does Morelenth know when they're coming?"

Automatically, E'sere looks to the mat in question, reaching down to tweak it slightly, then frowning and kneeling to perfect its position. The others shortly receive similar treatment. "I am relaxed," he tells Aivey when he's satisfied, straightening again to pace around his arrangement. "How do you want to sit: between them, opposite me; between me and him, opposite her; or between me and her, opposite him? I still have to change clothes," he adds. Because it wouldn't do to decorate in one's best.

"Oh, definitely right next to him. That way I can put the moves on him and you'll be none the wiser." Aivey replies as she moves toward the seating area, "Go get dressed... chances are they'll be here soon. This is all fine. Perfect - beautiful," She motions lightly with her hands, trying to emphasize just how wonderful everything is, "Now shoo. Go on."

"Oh--right. Morelenth said he'd let us know," E'sere adds in belated acknowledgment of Aivey's earlier question. He takes another moment to survey the weyr, then smirks and nods to himself, plainly pleased as he heads back to dress. He doesn't, at least, don his Reaches best--that would be overkill; but he does get out the nicest island-suited clothes he has, and smooths them perfectionistically when he's dressed. Then, he messes with the hair. This takes longer than getting dressed, especially without a mirror handy, and ten-plus minutes later, he stills asks Aivey, "Does my hair look okay?" It looks almost identical to when he started.

"It's--" Whatever Aivey was about to say is abruptly silenced, "Perfect. You look handsome as ever." She holds out a hand, beckoning him back to their oh-so-elegant dining area, "Really, they're going to be pleased. Probably even overwhelmed but that'll be half the fun. Now how are we going to handle this? Are you going to deal with Islay or should I?" Aivey waits only a half second, likely cutting off any reply that might have come, "Maybe we should just wing it. I think that'd be best. And oh, right, they're probably going to have the chair. Islay mentioned that so try and act pleased even if it's ugly. Ok?"

"Please," says E'sere with a roll of his eyes. "You don't have to tell /me/ to act nice. I've received a few ugly presents before and acted pleased. You should have seen what Ganathon got me for my birthday last turn." To the other question, he adds, "We deal with them both together. I think we need a few more guests before we can send the women off to chat about... whatever they talk about it, and we men can sit around, smoke our pipes, and discuss the state of the world."

"Yeah, well, if you send me off with them you'd damn well better tell me what we're suppose to talk about." Aivey replies as she draws her arms over her chest and fixes her best 'I'm not impressed' look on him. "Anyways. Everything is all set, so lets just get this done and over with. I can't say as I have a good feeling about how it's going to go."

E'sere smirks. "I wouldn't have a clue myself; I don't do a lot of girl talk, personally. Clothes, probably, hair, who's the better lover..." He smirks. "I'll have Morelenth tell them to drop by at their leisure, then," he adds, with a glance at the bronze, who perks up when he has something to do, too.

"Oh, damn. Count me out on that one. I hate being on the losing end of things." Aivey replies with mock dejection. She turns away when E'sere looks to Morelenth, and moves to situate herself on one of the floor mats. There is a moment of uncomfortable shifting, a few sighs and light murmurs before she finds a comfortable position.

"Ha ha," retorts E'sere, dryly. "If you want to win, you could always let all the other girls have a try, let them see for themselves," is his suggestion as he moves toward Morelenth and the doorway to loiter, waiting.

"So long as I get to sample the waters of their men, hey-" Aivey tosses an uncaring shrug before folding her hands in her lap, absently picking at a small scrape on her knuckle, "You should probably look a little less pathetic, E'sere. Come on over here and sit down. Pretend like you're not waiting for them."

"We are waiting on them," E'sere notes, glancing back at Aivey. He notes her picking again and automatically tells her, "Stop that." Then: "All right, it's a deal, then. Let me break the news to T'gar, though--I can be gentle about it."

"No." Blunt and ever stubborn, Aivey doesn't even bother following it up with a look, "Oh, no. Please, let me. I'm sure I'll be much gentler about it. Besides, you'll have your hands full with Islay."

"All right," concedes E'sere. "You just go right ahead, then."

Aivey finishes picking at the scrape, then pops the knuckles of her right hand against her hip. All before replying as casually as can be. "Fine. I will."

"All right," repeats E'sere, with a nod to Aivey in answer to her words. He waits by the doorway with Morelenth on their guests, while Aivey is seated inside on one of four woven mats arranged in a very precise circle. All their personal effects are neatly put away, and the fire, with dinner on it, is cleared of ashes, firewood stacked against another wall. E'sere and Aivey are both dressed in clean, neat clothes. Everything is perfect. Now they just need the guests.

"Don't be surprised if it's a bit of a let down on your end." Aivey rejoins, looking over her shoulder to him, "I know I won't have to worry about it. He's really not all that bad looking." And that is all she'll say on that for the moment.

The guests arrive in short order, Echeloth having only offered a vague clue as to when they would actually arrive to Morelenth. The brown appears soon enough with his cargo, setting down awkwardly on the ledge and only long enough for T'gar, chair in hand, to help Islay down. Echeloth leaves as soon as they're clear and T'gar inspects the chair yet again. "I still say we should have given them the old one," he murmurs to Islay when he leans in close.

"She's cute. Nice and retiring, too," E'sere remarks absently. "I like that in a girl." He seems poised to add more, but then their guests are landing, and he breaks off in favor of stepping out to greet them, and to shoo Morelenth off the ledge to make more room for Echeloth. The bronze soars off looking put-out, a state E'sere pays no mind to. He's busy playing host. "Islay, T'gar. Thank you for coming. Please, come on inside--Aivey is just inside with dinner," he tells them, with an expansive gesture to the weyr's entrance.

Islay is sitting sideways on Echeloth, easier for her since she's wearing a gasp! dress. Well, what passes for one, at least. More like a sarong, she has taken some pains to look nice, perhaps encouraged by T'gar, or maybe by that book of E'sere's. At any rate, it's really nothing fancy, and Aivey, at least, has seen her wearing it before. Only now there's a flower behind her ear, and another in her hand. She nudges T'gar when he makes his comment, and then turns toward E'sere as they're welcomed. She offers a smile, but doesn't quite seem to know what to say. "Evening," is managed. And, "Thanks for inviting us," as she moves forward.

Unlike E'sere, Aivey makes no immediate attempt to greet the guests. She's busy sneaking some of that food for herself. Cheeking a small portion she doesn't manage to swallow in time, she hastily stands and brushes the back of her hand across her lips while hastily swallowing. The grating of the large lump draws tears to her eyes, but they're quickly blinked away. The hand is extended, quite businesslike in manner, "Right, welcome and, you know-" A small nod of her head to the weyr at large brings a return of that smile.

E'sere, entering first, can see Aivey's bulging cheek for what it is, and, with his back to the guests, can indulge in giving her a stern look for her antics. Still, once he does so, he pauses to turn and gesture toward the mats. "Have a seat, if you like," he encourages the two. "Islay, you look wonderful--I don't think I've seen that outfit before? I was just telling Aivey the other day, actually, that she needed something along those lines."

T'gar doesn't look much different than usual, except he's wearing a shirt and it's even buttoned up. He offers E'sere a nod. Then Aivey when he sees her. He follows Islay when she moves further inside and then he remembers he's holding a chair. He hands it over to E'sere unceremoniously and says just to be clear, though in a pleasant tone, "This dinner doesn't count as payment." With a glance around, T'gar stays near Islay and he might move just a touch closer when E'sere compliments her outfit.

Blind to the stern look, Aivey puts her best face forward. The smile remains fixed in place. Separate from the simple but cute smile, it can almost be considered charming. Especially as it softens upon sight of the chair. "You're talented," she says to T'gar, looking him pointedly in the eyes and then, rather shyly, away. To Islay who might just then be acknowledged, Aivey says, "You'll have to show me how you managed that, Islay. I'd love to give the look a try."

There's a blush that comes to Islay's cheeks at E'sere's compliment. "It used t'be a skirt b'longing t'Nella," she murmurs, her eyes looking down at the sarong. "Ain't nothing much, but thank you." She moistens her lips, then looks up, holding out her hand toward Aivey. "I brung you this," she says, voice a little shy. "They're blooming over by th' stream, an' sometimes th' girls wear 'em in their hair." The flower extended toward Aivey is a little deeper blue than the one Islay wears, but it's larger. "Though mebbe you'd like it." She kind of seems not to expect much from Aivey, but the gesture is kindly meant. "An' course, there's th' chair." She doesn't say anything regarding T'gar's words, but does seem to stick close to him. "Ain't hard t'make these," she tells Aivey about the dress. "I can show you sometime, sure."

"Of course not," E'sere agrees with T'gar, with a flash of a smile as he accepts the chair. "Really, this could add to my debt, though let us hope it goes better than that. Have you decided yet, what I can offer you in return, T'gar?" He then moves to set the chair down--he seems to know exactly where he wants it--then he steps back slightly to look at it. "It's wonderful," he tells T'gar then, and moves to seat himself and test it out. By his pleased smile, it passes that test, too. "Thank you so much, T'gar. I really appreciate it--it is excellent. A lovely addition to the weyr." He stands, too, and casts a look back over to the two women, watching them with a bemused expression. "Still, it looks beautiful on you," he tells Islay again. "And the flower is a nice touch, too. It accents the skirt well, that color. I don't think I've ever noticed those flowers before," he marvels.

T'gar eyes Aivey for a moment, then offers a simple, "Thanks." His attention shifts to the bronzerider and he replies, "No," then adds, "I'm sure there's something you can do for me. Us. I just can't think of what it might be." It could be a barb, but T'gar offers an almost friendly smile. "But I'm glad you like it in any case." He lifts a hand to set on Islay's shoulder when the compliments continue and he glances at Aivey because they seem to be the quieter of the group.

Aivey accepts the flower with a smile of thanks - no real word of such - "That'd be nice. Maybe we can find the time tomorrow. I think I have a relatively light chore load." She twirls the flower between her thumb and forefinger, absently listening in on E'sere's comments ranging from the chair to Islay's accessorizing prowess. When T'gar looks at her, however, she asks, "Would you mind?" To T'gar, who the flower is extended to. Aivey's smile is once more easy, if not slightly abashed, "I've got this thing with my shoulder-" The 'afflicted' shoulder is raised slightly, Aivey's smile changes from abashed to helpless. "I'd really appreciate the help."

Islay seems a little shy when E'sere continues the compliments, and looks almost nervously at Aivey. But she relaxes slightly when T'gar puts his hand on her shoulder. "There's all kinds of pretty flowers on th' island," she remarks, voice soft and a little hesitant. "Most folks don't have time t'notice 'em. Th' seeds from this one're good for stomach aches, too." Everything has a use, apparently. Her eyes dart to T'gar when Aivey asks for assistance with the flower, but she doesn't say anything. That's up to him, and all she does is look around the cave. "Looks right nice in here, that chair," she remarks. "T'gar does good work." There's pride in the words, and a smile. "An' if y'don't mind, I'd like t'take you up on borrowing that book of poetry you offered, E'sere. My reading's getting pretty good with practice. I'm learning all kinds of new words."

"Well, when you do," says E'sere, with another glance to T'gar, "let Morelenth and me know so we can get right on it. It's the least we can do, really." Then, he's looking back to Islay. "Let me get that for you now, while we're thinking of it," he volunteers at once, stepping to the back of the weyr and leaning to pick up the book in question. He returns to extend it to Islay. "I think you'll enjoy it; the poems are about a range of subjects, so there's really something for everyone, and they're quite well-written. I don't read much poetry, but I did enjoy this volume," he tells her. "You'll have to let me know what you think of it when you finish."

T'gar gives Islay's shoulder a gentle squeeze before he steps toward Aivey and takes the flower. "Not at all," he replies and, despite eyeing her shoulder with some doubt, he lifts a hand to move her hair a little out of the way and tucks the flower behind her ear. He adjusts it once, then smiles. He probably helped Islay with hers. Or at least told her it looked alright. That makes him an expert, almost. "There you go." He offers a smile Islay-wards for her praise, but books aren't really his thing, so the conversation sort of loses him.

Aivey is observant enough to notice the dubious look. Or maybe she's just watching T'gar that closely. Either way she continues to smile, staying absolutely still until the flower is in place. "He's like a little kid," she says then, quietly, "With his books. Give me a good knife and something to carve up and I'm as happy as I'll ever be." There's a smile at the end, "You really did do a good job on the chair, though. I'm going to enjoy it." Though her gaze lingers, giving the implication she might say more, a look at E'sere and Islay doesn't allow for such. "We should eat before it all grows legs and crawls away."

Islay takes the book, nodding her thanks. "I'll do that," she says, meaning let him know what she thinks. She watches T'gar put the flower on Aivey, then nods again. "Looks right pretty, though some of th' red ones might look better with your hair." It's not an insult, just observation. It's what else Aivey says that seems to get her attention, though. "Ain't too many knives 'round th' island," she remarks, holding the book in one hand. "Be nice if'n we had more, but they don't wash up after storms. I ain't tried carving, just cleaning fish." She nods when Aivey mentions eating, and smiles some at the humor. "How's your arm doing anyway, Aivey? It heal up all right?" she asks as she steps forward to where the mats are placed.

E'sere knows when Aivey is talking about him, even if he can't catch all the words. He shoots her a quick look, then a half-smile for her new adornment. "It looks nice," he tells her, not nearly as effusive in his praise of Aivey as he was of Islay. He does add, though, "Oh, yes. That's right--we /do/ have dinner. If you want to sit down, I'll get that for you," he offers generously, gesturing them toward the mats on the floor. He does not answer any of Islay's questions, though he hides a smile behind his hand as Islay mentions carving. Somehow, he suspects they're not talking quite the same kind of carving.

T'gar takes a step back, turning toward where the mats are. Or maybe he doesn't trust all that space between him and Islay. "So long as it's not just going to be a place to put books," he replies about the chair. "Yes, lets eat." Food - there's something T'gar can be interested in. He's not exactly out of place in company, but it's obvious it's not his favorite place to be and he doesn't try to hide it at all. He waits for Islay to take a seat, then sits on one of the adjacent mats.

"Mostly healed. I still have my days where it just doesn't cooperate," Aivey replies to Islay with a toothless smile and a small bob of her head as she lightly touches the flower, "Well I like it. Thank you." To both, presumably, for E'sere is given a brief look, before Aivey returns her attention to Islay. "Carving is fun. Especially when you really get into it." A quick beat, "I do people mostly." Casual as can be, she settles on the ground across from T'gar, crossing her legs beneath her and propping her elbows atop her knees. It's not until she reaches for a piece of food that she addendums, "Usually on little bits of wood. And no, none of his books will touch it. I'd like to try my hand at making another for him since he's not exactly going to get the chance to claim that chair for himself."

Sitting in a dress is a little awkward, but Islay manages, kneeling on one of the mats and then sitting to the side. It's not quite as comfortable as she might be wearing pants, but she doesn't seem too ill at ease. If anything, it's the whole acting like a "lady" that makes her feel just a little bit not like herself. T'gar's closeness seems to help just a bit. "This's very nice of y'all," she murmurs in regards to the entire dinner idea. "Ain't never been invited t'dinner like this, not even when I lived in High Reaches. I was more'n likely serving folks food in th' tavern than sitting down with 'em t'eat." She brushes her hair back from her face and looks to E'sere, then to Aivey, then folds her hands in her lap and waits while Aivey talks about making chairs. That's T'gar's department.

"Certainly not. A place to read, perhaps, but not just for storage," E'sere reassures T'gar with a grin. Aivey earns a quick look for her answer, his brows arching, but he says nothing. "That's thoughtful of you, Aivey, but you don't think we can share it?" Beat. "I can work up a schedule, if you like, and post it every morning before I go to drills." In the meantime, he busies himself preparing bowls for their guests first, bringing them over to hand to first Islay, with a smile, and then T'gar, before he goes back to fetch one for Aivey and one for him. He then settles into his place across from Islay, between Aivey and T'gar, and asks, "So how were your days, Islay, T'gar?"

T'gar watches Aivey curiously as she settles down across from him. "Oh? You make furniture?" look, he's actually interested. He tilts his gaze to Islay and offers her a small smile, leaning just enough to squeeze her knee affectionately. "Yeah, dinner. Good idea. Better than the whole communal thing that's usually the closest you can get," he's apparently not much of a fan. Go figure. "My day's been fine," he replies to the last as he looks at the food.

"We'll just make you another one," Aivey replies, sweetly, "No need to go through the trouble of making out a schedule." T'gar once more gains her (mostly) full attention, "I tried, once or twice. I like working with my hands but I can't quite figure out how to put it all together." Chairs, that is. When she has her bowl, she quite happily begins to root through it, looking for her choice tidbits.

Islay accepts the bowl from E'sere, nodding her thanks. She takes a sniff of dinner and smiles. "Smells real good," she says, glancing over at Aivey. "You find th' fruit tree all right? I'm sorry I couldn't show you, but I left how t'find it with Bajin, since you was working with him." When asked about her day, she kind of shrugs. "'Bout th' same as ever'body else's. Wet and working. Did find time t'scavenge down th' beach a little. Found some more rope what washed t'shore. Nera'll be right happy for that." She looks to Aivey, then, regarding her for a long moment. "I can't neither. T'gar's th' one what makes it all come t'gether. I tried t'make a bed oncet, but I'm better at fishing and sharpening th' knives."

"Well, don't take ours apart to find out," E'sere cautions as he takes a couple of bites of his meal. "T'gar put far too much work into it to do that--dear." He offers Aivey a smile near saccharine, before he looks back to Islay to nod appreciatively to her words. "The same," he offers his own consensus of the day. "And, I imagine I would be, too--I've never tried to make furniture myself. They tried to teach me to repair it, back home before I impressed, but, well. It didn't go well. Not my particular calling, I suppose. A shame, because I do have an appreciation for those who /can/ do that sort of thing."

T'gar picks through the contents of the bowl quietly, listening more than involving himself in anything of note. "Everyone has their uses," he manages, if not a little cryptically. "If you're actually interested in it, though, maybe I can give some pointers some time." He doesn't look up when he speaks, more interested in eating than making polite conversation.

"I do too," Aivey agrees, forgoing all else E'sere's said for that one statement, "Islay never said you were so talented, T'gar." High praise, delivered as such with a kind smile for the brownrider, "Though I suppose it's only fitting. Islay has her fair share of talents... I found the fruit, yes, thank you. I'd have had some tonight, but E'sere ate it all." The smile she shares with the bronzerider is purely at his expense, though her tone is light enough to be considered joking. Upon T'gar's reply, however, it sobers considerably. "I'll definitely do that, T'gar. Thank you."

Islay smiles at T'gar when Aivey and E'sere compliment him, the pride obvious. She eats slowly, as if savoring each bite. "I carved a fork when I first got here, but it wasn't very good. It fell into th' fire an' got burned up." She looks a little embarrassed by that, and then glances over to Aivey. "That tree bears a lotta fruit. There's plenty. An' there's berries upland a bit," she adds. "But you prob'ly already been sent up there t'pick 'em." Everyone gets berry-picking duty at some point. "Don't talent t'find fish. Just gotta know th' tides, an' where they're likely t'be." Then, mindful of her manners, she goes on to say, "But it's right nice of you to say so, Aivey.

E'sere shoots Aivey a look as she brings up fruit, but he covers with a sheepish smile. "It was just that good," he notes, with a broader grin for Islay. "You do know all the best places for fruit--and flowers, and fish, too. No matter what you say, it's a bigger talent than you think. I appreciate everything so much, really. You've been a great help in my settling in process, Islay."

"Don't be so modest, Islay," T'gar says to the small woman, glancing up at her between bites. He offers Aivey a small nod while he's looking up, then returns to his food. "I'm available in the early evening a lot," he says, though it's not so much available as when he tends to work on his little side projects. "Trying to get enough together for a bed right now, but with the rain, it's been slow going waiting for things to dry out."

Aivey looks toward E'sere, unabashed at the look - possibly irritated as he covers it so quickly and manages to save face. Returning to her own meal, she pushes the food around, briefly rearranging it before proceeding to take small bites of her meal. Around such she allows for replies. "The truth is never a bad thing to admit," to Islay, accompanied with a smile that's mostly been reserved for T'gar (not so much E'sere). "I've got a bit of an idea for a bed in mind, but I think I might want to try and work it out myself," She says to the brownrider, "I'll let you know if it works out."

Islay doesn't quite know how to handle all the compliments, and looks a little uncomfortable as all three of the others seem determined to make her admit she's good at something. "Ain't no big deal," she murmurs, eyes cast down at the bowl, which is slowly being emptied. As for her knowing where things are... "I lived here most of m'life. Easy t'know where things are when it's familiar territory. If'n we were back there, likely you two'd know a lot more'n me." She shrugs. "Ain't done nothing special. Just trying t'help. Know what it's like trying t'figure out stuff here."

With small-chat continuing throughout the remainder of the meal, the actual time to finish said meal is drawn out. By the time the stacked wood by the wall becomes necessary, the sky outside the ledge is dark and the air just slightly chilly. With all of the dinner items taken away, the conversation changes from small talk to actual conversation - but it's more of the mundane sort then anything else.

And so the party rages until the guests retire home. Well fed and scarred for life.