The Crom Hold Trade Fair: Temper, temper. Part one.
RL Date: 11/10/07
IC Date: 2/31/14
Crom Hold(#420RIJs)
Like many Holds of Pern, Crom is built within the shelter of a solid panel of rock. An expansive courtyard rests beneath this shelter, leaving up towards massive stone-wrought doors and a wide deck of smoothed boulders. The distinctive shadows of the watchdragon's ledge, the drumheights, and the fireheights rise high on the cliff and dotted along the wall are windows that are either flung open or shuttered depending on the weather or, more dangerously, Thread. Vegetation is lacking in this mine-based Hold, though the carts and beaten paths of miners returning home weave in twisted circles about the Hold, leading far off towards the furthest reaches of the few mines untouched near Crom itself.
A proud Hold, the crests and banners of the family flap in the wind, hanging from the highest windows of the stone walls.
Clad in black from head to toe, one might assume the 'Reachian Weyrsecond's trying to travel incognito if not for the fact that the intricate knot of her position still sits firmly on her shoulder. Stepping out from around the side of a wagon, the greenrider is engaged in a conversation that's clearly not of the 'meet and greet' kind. With her is a tall, broad shouldered man with hawkish features, skin the color of mocha, long glossy black hair tied back in a runnertail that brushes past his shoulders and a bandanna of sapphire blue around his head. That dark red braid being the only slash of color against her attire swings back and forth as she vehemently shakes her head at something said by him. His features harden and black eyes narrow as lips thin into an unforgiving line.
"Reprobate," Vrys accuses T'rev fondly, then eyes Edlyn's wineskin. "That does sound good - is it mulled? - but I probably shouldn't have any more." When Rilkie speaks she shoves back her chair, nearly knocking it into a man passing behind. "Sorry - sure, ma... Rilkie. Now is fine. I'm almost done, anyway, and this can be eaten anywhere. Where did you want to go?"
"I haven't tried anything, myself. Though it all looked good. Had some cheeses earlier, but that's how it goes," Edlyn comments on the subject of food as she pours herself a glass and adds to T'rev's recently emptied glass. "Should be good. It's a merlot, aged real nice in a barrel, y'know?" Glowing at the compliment to her father's craft, Ed nods eagerly to Rilkie. "Please, just tell him that you're my friend? He'll give you a deal, I'm sure..." The greenrider trails off as she focuses on the approaching 'Reachian and she flicks her brows down as she contemplates the scene. Drawn back to the current conversation, she flashes a smile at Vrys. "Oh, no. Not mulled. But still good, I think."
Tavrie, in a move that would surprise few of those that know her well, seems to be headed for what she enjoys most -- the food. With her booted feet mere glints of glossy black underneath the folds of her long dress, she glides toward the stand where the aroma of stew seems to originate. The woman's dress is made burnt umber in color, lost between brown and red of the darkest nature. Clasped at the neck and cloaking her shoulders is a short cape of matching fabric lined in fleece, simple and yet effective. The 'Reachian rider places her order and then peers around her as she waits for it to be presented.
Overhead, all bluster and possession, like he pretty much owns the place, Wyaeth jumps in from *between* with a rustic bugle of greeting to any and all Reaches dragons-- not that he excludes non-Reaches dragons since it's perfectly audible to everyone, but anyway. The rangy bronze circles twice in a teetery arc and lands boldly in the middle of the fireheights, practically shoves a recently arrived blue out of the way to make room, one-side-slim. Only a few minutes pass before his rider, big but not nearly as pompous, comes out from the big double doors to the courtyard.
T'rev's smile waxes all the brighter for the addition of the wine to his glass. "Thanks much!" And he lifts the flagon briefly in a toast towards the weyrling greenrider and again up Jenivrys' way. "Absolutely, Vrys. An' proud of it." Apparently being out and about at the fair is making T'rev very very jolly. "Enjoy your chat, ladies," this to Rilkie and Vrys and his eyes settle on the Reachian briefly as well before they return to his clutchmate. "So, good visit with the folks then? Wanna swing back that way later?"
Rilkie gives a general wave through the stalls. "We could walk around a bit, and talk? Or find somewhere quieter, if you'd rather a break from all the people." To the rest of the group, she smiles as she rises from the table. "Enjoy the fair, everyone. And Edlyn, I'll make sure to do so!" She motions to Vrys, the two brownriders head off and disappear into the crowd.
Edlyn draws her glass up for a swirl and then she sips slowly, attention drawn in and out of the conversation at the table as more and more activity seems to be centered around the food. It is lunch time, after all. Everyone would be drawn in by the welcome smells of fresh food. "Oh? Yeah, it was okay. I was helping dad set up and getting caught up with my mother." She smiles at the bronze weyrling, "You should come meet them later, if you want." Her free hand lifts in a wave to the departing Rilkie and Vrys. "Enjoy, you two!"
Shanlee's not even trying to cover her anger now, so anyone passing by might overhear snatches of conversation. "Those marks are -mine- Senjin!" a hand balls into a fist at her side, "We had a deal." A low inaudible comment from the big trader, draws a curl of lip into a sneer from the greenrider "I don't owe you nothing, anymore." Fingers flick at her shoulder knot in emphasis "I call the shots now. Got it?" Turning on her heel with a grim set to the fine features, she flings one last comment in parting "I'll be coming for what's mine before the night's out. Best be sure to have it ready." With that she melts into the throng of bodies that flows passed, with a grim set to the fine features.
*....that flows passed. (Ends there. XD)
N'thei passes by Shanlee like he knew exactly how to find her amid the thick of the crowd, says without slowing his steps from a path bound and determined to find drinks, "Hardly fitting behavior for the Weyrsecond, miss. You looked ready to, I-don't-know, go for the man's throat." Flashing her a cheeky smile, he peers over the tops of heads toward anything bearing the Vintner's crest. He politely but firmly assaults members of the crowd; "Wine? Where? Excuse me, wine?"
"We've got some here, sir!" T'rev calls over towards N'thei. "And there's mulled stuff at that stall there," a helpful thumb-jerk. "We've a vintner's daughter here though, who brought us the good stuff." A broad grin seems to be a permanent fixture on T'rev's face.
"Wine? Did you say wine, bronzerider? Well, I've got the finest selection here for your choosing," a stout little man comes upon N'thei with a tray of wine held out in presentation. "Take your pick. I suggest the red, m'self," the man continues as he nods to the glass closest to his hand. "Best one I've got." Edlyn ducks her head, lifting a hand to shield her face from view. "Er, eesh, there's my father now." She looks to T'rev with a grimace. "Don't want him to see me now, when I'm 'posed to be out doing that. I'm going to go grab something to eat..!" With that, the greenrider's up in a flurry of skirts and disappearing back into the safety of the growing crowd.
Amerie drifts along into the fair and along the edges, the tall girl moving alone through the crowds silently and - it has to be said, a bit warily. Occasionally, someone in Crom colours will greet her; with a quick nod and the barest of pleasantries she moves on. For some reason, when T'rev shouts, she narrows her eyes his way with interest - and starts in that vague direction.
N'thei calls toward whomever, "Unless the 'good stuff' means the Vintner's daughter herself..." He trades marks-for-wine with the stout chap bearing the tray, buys whatever's cheap by the skin but still palatable, and shoulders his way toward young T'rev, undoubtedly hopeful to find the daughter in question lingering thereabouts. Suddenly; "Did you call me sir? Could take a liking to that."
Shanlee nearly jumps a foot high as N'thei falls into step with her, "Not as far as that one's concerned." tightly given of the large trader she'd just left in her wake. There is a faint smirk afforded the bronzerider, "Some men just don't appreciate the hands on approach." said through a dramatically tragic sigh. Eyes that hold a highly amused light track his path away from her, the stout little man hailed down for one of those glasses on his tray.
Back N'thei's way, T'rev calls out cheerily as Edlyn ducks out of sight. "She's spoken for, but that was her father you just paid, so it's prob'ly decent enough stuff." His flagon is lifted as the Reachian approaches. There's chairs available around the Weyrling now, since the girls and A'zan have moved on to find food and quiet and whatever else. "Yessir, that I did." A salute next too. "Telgar's duties to the Reaches. If y'need food recommendations too, I'm your man." Cocky grin and all, T'rev goes on.
Tavrie beams warmly as she exchanges her marks for a bread bowl of stew and a steaming mug of mulled fruit juice. "Thank you kindly, this will warm things up quite a bit," she tells him before turning and ambling slowly toward the tables. Eyes scan the people there, looking for an open seat and some cheerful faces to sit with.
Bowl of stew purchased and balanced on one palm, A'zan slips among the food vendors' patrons on his way back to the table where T'rev sits. His footfalls slow as he sees the man joining them, notable both for his lack of familiarity and his size. Sidestepping, he murmurs apologies and shifts his stew to shield it from passing elbows as he circles aroudn to get a better look at N'thei from the front. High Reaches knot is spotted and the neutral expression he wears becomes a bit more firm, his lips a thin line as he strides in on the group. "Thanks for the directions, T'rev, this stew is quite good," he offers casually. He sets the stew down to free up his right hand for a neat salute to the Reachian bronzerider, murmuring a short, "Duties."
Drawing closer, Amerie's gaze flicks from T'rev to the rider he's talking to - N'thei - and Shanlee not too far off. With a tiny quirk of a smile, the girl begins to move towards the Weyrsecond at least - but both a voice and somewhat familiar shape give her pause. She turns slightly on her way to Shanlee, flicking a look A'zan's way. "Evening, Weyrsecond," she offers - but her somewhat disapproving look is all for the Telgari weyrling.
N'thei laughs to repeat under his breath, "Spoken for." And? There's no Vintner-looking girl around T'rev, though a cursory sweep of the area certainly looks for one before N'thei breaks a smile for the Telgari weyrling, brings his hand up complete with the wineskin in it to salute back to the kid, to the other kid right after. His eyes dart after a glance of Amerie-- preoccupied with the ladies-- while he drops into a seat that creaks unhappily at his weight, chat continuing. "What are we drinking to, young gents? Cromcoal and bygones?"
"Glad it's suitin'." T'rev's manner continues open and downright friendly, for A'zan and for the very big Reachian dude. "Gotta say, I haven't stumbled across anything as tasted /bad/ today." Down to one chair still available at the table the Weyrlings are seated, since A'zan and N'thei joined T'rev, the enjoyment of wine seemingly ongoing in that corner of the fair, the stalls all around doing a hopping business. The Weyrling's gaze tracks N'thei's to Amerie and Shanlee again, the light of appreciation flashing briefly before his eyes snap back to the big guy. "Bein' let outta the Weyr for an evenin' of carouse." Up goes his flagon again. "Dunno much about coal, m'self. I'm from Nerat. Now see if you wanna know about jungles, klahbark trees an' bawdy songs? I can tell you a fair bit."
Shanlee's starting to notice the vast amount of knots representing Telgar, her face becoming schooled more and more into an expression of bland neutrality as a polite dip of head goes first one way and then the other. The edges of N'thei's toast just caught and narrowing eyes briefly for a moment before she's responding to Amerie, "Evening Amerie. Busy isn't it?" a pointed sweep going across the crowd.
Slipping quietly into the crowd, it's almost easy to miss the fact that B'yan was present. He's ambling along the trader stalls, exchanging words with a few that apparently seem familiar with each other and somewhere along the way picking up a glass of something red in one hand.
Tavrie casts a glance at N'thei and the Telgari folk that he is talking to and then makes an executive decision to wander over to Shanlee and Amerie. "Evening," she greets them warmly, still stuck holding her food and drink and left with no hands to eat. The 'Reachian junior's face lacks the neutral air that many have, lit as usual with a welcoming smile.
"Busy enough, ma'am. Busy with people from... all over." Amerie's dark gaze levels on N'thei for a minute and she gives the big man a nod, expression briefly wary again. But he's a ways off, and the assistant headwoman is standing with Shanlee, so her attention shifts to the greenrider with a faint smile. "How are you this evening?" As Tavrie approaches, she nods lowly to offer a polite, "Ma'am. Evening."
"Not much about coal? Psshh, count yourselves lucky, lads." N'thei imparts his wisdom sagely, with good humor that only increases when he doles out a glass for himself and plops the rest of the wineskin into his lap. "To the haves and the have-nots, and all the burned bridges between them." He tosses the drink down his throat with a satisfied wipe from the heel of his hand across his mouth. In a good-natured chide, he asks, "Now then, since when do they let weyrlings out for carousing like this? Seems like bad form, corrupting the youth."
A'zan takes his time straightening his bowl, pulling a napkin from where he's stowed it up his sleeve and spreading it across a thigh. He flicks a slow glance up at N'thei, eyes inching up in slow increments. "Cromcoal and bygones? To abundance of the first, current and future?" A faint smirk touches the corner of his mouth and then he nods toward the wineskin. "Pour me a splash of that wine, T'rev?" As he's glassless he can't join in N'thei's toast but the man's good humor at least lightens the stone in his eyes a touch. "The dragons are a turn now and we're betweening. It's not as if they set us loose to get soused, laid, and turned out for brawling in the same evening."
"Nope. Just about haulin' it. Y'know, to work out Weyrling muscles." T'rev mimes lifting and hefting sacks with his free arm, still all good-humored himself. "An' here's to good food, good wine and better company," T'rev tacks on, flagon up again and he matches N'thei's tossback, the giddiness of a little freedom apparently gone clear to his head. "Since the Weyrlingmaster said so?" He gives an easy shrug and pours out wine for A'zan. "Sure thing A'zan. S'good stuff." Slide, goes an empty vessel now full for the other bronzeriding Weyrling from Telgar. "I dunno. All of those sound pretty good. Well at least the first two."
The big mocha skinned man the 'Reachian Weyrsecond had been engaged with a while back, suddenly shoulders his way through the crowd and roughly pushes two small leather bags into her hand. With just a long hard look at the petite greenrider but not a word uttered he continues onward. Shan's expression flicks between a smug smirk to his back as her hand closes over the bags and then pockets them, to one of congeniality for her company. First to Amerie, "Looks like everyone is taking the opportunity to 'mingle.'" that word given deliberate emphasis. Once Tavrie joins them, she's afforded a smile, "Evening Tavrie, nice night out isn't it?" Such, polite surface conversation. N'thei is kept in the redhead's peripherals, a light frown touching and then leaving.
Tavrie waves off Amerie's 'ma'am' and smiles. "Please, Tavrie," she offers with a warm smile. "No call for standing on circumstance with me and especially not tonight. "I'm out here to try and enjoy a little of the fair while keeping out of anything that might resemble work," she notes, looking around playfully for someone out to catch her. Tavrie's glance swings to Shanlee and one brow quivers, seeming to be kept in place by sheer will. "Oh yes, a lovely evening," she drawls blandly.
More late than fashionably late, Talien arrives sans escort and bedecked in her finest 'Reachian wear - an oversized jacket, a floppy hat and (hidden off to her side) her gifted cane. It's the later which helps her navigate her way toward the trader stalls, though she keeps her head half tilted with an ear toward the main ground. "I know you're in here," she announces to no one in particular, "-and if you save me the trouble of having to find you myself, I might just buy you a drink."
Wine glass almost empty, B'yan pauses by one of the stalls selling various wherhide footwear. Casting furtive glances about the crowd, the Reachian wingsecond starts to engage the man in conversation, pointing out a couple of the boots that were visible from the stall. The trader seems loud and amiable, carrying on about them being the better of footwear found on the fairgrounds. B'yan's yet to see anyone of recognition, too engaged in examining the wares.
N'thei's grin broadens at the turned-out-for-brawling, and he openly sizes up the two weyrlings with whom he's settled for drinks. "Sounds like an appropriate end to an evening to me, though you'll forgive me if I don't rush to pick a fight with you lads?" There's the second glass, down the hatch, and there's a nod sent to acknowledge the many looks he's receiving from Shanlee-and-company. With a sudden cough, he sputters down his drink and says abruptly, "Remiss. Names?"
Amerie's attention momentarily focuses on Shanlee's less obvious activities, with a brow arched. Even so, she's quick to note, "Well, it's a good way to - get information, I suppose. You can learn an awful lot, and plant a few ideas... not the worst plan." Glancing over to Tavrie, she seems a touch uncomfortable as she agrees, "Of course. Tavrie." Her attention eventually returns to the table of bronzeriders - weyrling and otherwise - with interest.
"Only if you're really piss drunk," notes T'rev amiably and he refills his own flagon too and lifts it towards N'thei's. "'Preciate that actually, sir. I'm thinkin' our Weyrlingmaster ain't goin' to have too much of a problem with a little drinkin' an' dancin' but a pair of shiners wouldn't go down too well." The cough and following question earn a merry chuckle. "T'rev, bronze Mecaith's," he introduces himself and sits up to lean across the table and offer the Reachian a callused hand.
If Shan notices any of the looks coming from Amerie over her recent exchange, she blithely ignores them, to offer after a good swallow of the wine in hand, "Information is what trader's are about. Get to know a few, learn how to ply them, and you'll never be short of it." As the bronzerider's both 'Reachian and Telgari become increasingly friendly with each other, lips curl into a display of dry amusement, "Least the boys are having fun."
"A'zan. Weyrling to bronze Kevruth," A'zan supplies it easily enough, though that ghost of a smile has slipped away and left quiet observation in its place. Rather than offer yet another toast of his own he simply lifts the glass and takes a long slow sip, eyes sliding closed as it runs down his throat. "It may not be the finest vintage but I think that may be the sweetest taste of wine I've ever had." In spite of his air of general reserve the comment is spoken lightly. "First in over a turn," he explains as if that weren't easily guessable. He pauses for a beat, eyes drifting up and over the man who has about 4 inches and a good many pounds of muscle on him. "Somehow I think if we went home with only a pair of shiners we'd be doing pretty well in this case. It's good a bronze found you - I doubt a blue could get you off the ground..." he pauses pointedly for the name yet to be supplied.
Quirking a tiny smile, Amerie allows to Shanlee, "So I am beginning to see. Around here, it's the hold staff that tend to have the most information - in any case, it's never a bad thing to have." With her gaze still fixed on the table, she echoes to the Weyrsecond, "Fun. I don't know that /that/ one has fun." Though the same could be said for the tall girl herself, she gives a nod towards A'zan. "If you'll excuse me, ma'am? Tavrie?"
N'thei sounds surprised; "No? Maybe your Weyrlingmaster and mine should shake hands, exchange philosophies. I'daur likely sees shiners as rites of passage. You don't really suppose Crom invited Telgar /and/ the Reaches without expecting it to come to blows sooner or later, do you?" He switches his cup to his left hand to stick his right one out toward the pair of weyrlings, whoever's first. "Pleasure, lads. N'thei, part and parcel with one bronze Wyaeth." Cue a look to the fireheights where his particular bronze is swaggering about to compare who has the widest wingspread, the longest tail, etc.
Talien's offer of a drink has yet to reach its intended target. But she does find at least one person willing to take her up on her offer, and it's this person whose waylaid into finding her original target. Thus B'yan finds himself approached by a sensible looking man who, just after tapping the bronzerider on the shoulder, hastily sweeps a herder-style hat from his head. "Girl said you was buying drinks," comes the man's initial greeting, "And all I had to do to get mine was tell you she's not over there." Where the man points is where Talien stands, casually resting against the side of a stall.
Tavrie smiles politely and bobs her head in reply to Amerie before shifting her gaze away and setting her sights on a table that is just empyting. "Ahh...there's the ticket," she notes. "I'm going to take this over and have a seat," she excuses herself as well before hurrying over to claim a still warm chair.
"Sounds like a good plan, X'ndar's a decent sort. Knows as many bawdies as I do an' that's sayin' somethin'." T'rev smirks blithely then shrugs at N'thei's remark about brawling. "Don't gotta happen if it don't gotta. Gotta say, didn't think 'bout that too much. Mostly focused on havin' some of this and gettin' in a few good dances with a pretty girl or three and one in particular." A loose, lopsided grin accompanies that statement as his eyes follow a bright skirt by in between the aisles. He clasps hands with N'thei, his grip firm, but probably nowhere near what the Reachian's capable of. His eyes lift briefly to swaggering Wyaeth and he nods. "Mec's the one next to that green there. The sandy-lookin' one. He's still watchin' the crowd patterns." Mecaith is indeed, largely ignoring all the other dragons but the green at his side and his slow-whirling gaze is fixed on the fairgrounds below.
It's not as if it's likely not expected. Not too long after the library of the Hold was closed for whatever meeting happened to be going on in there, the doors of the Hold proper fling wide open to issue one righteously pissed-off Weyrwoman. The colour of Gay's cheeks rivals that of her curls, and though she may try to look calm, with E'tyn at her side and his arm around her waist, it's a losing battle. Her eyes are bright, and she's shaking, mouth set in a thin line.
Shanlee offers Amerie's words a low chuckle "Fun is what you make of it." Lips curling up into a lopsided grin. Once both Amerie and Tavrie take their leave and devoid of company, Shan heads off toward a group of women dressed in glaringly bright clothing, a wide grin covering her mouth.
B'yan was in the middle of being handed over a nice pair of boots for close examination when he gets the tap to his shoulder. Turning, the words from the man gets an arched brow from him before he follows the look towards the familiar form of Talien. The dubious look shifts to a wry lopsided smirk, handing the trader back the boots and making his way slowly over to Talien with his glass. Tossing a mark towards the man, "For your troubles," he drawls to him without affording him further regard, and once he had reached the bluerider's side, he taps her shoulder lightly and remarks, "Is there anything else I should be doing for you here at this fair, miss?" with a hint of amusement more than reproach in his voice.
A'zan arches a brow, giving N'thei's hand the briefest of squeezes, a firm grip but surely not hard enough to tempt the Reachian to prove his own undoubtedly superior strength. "Well met," he offers in a flat tone that belies the words a bit, before he settles back into a lounge with hands around his glass. "Blows? Between the Weyrs? Come now, shouldn't the dragonriders be on the same side? It isn't as if High Reaches foisted the Hold off on us, or as if we deliberately stole them from you. If they weren't satisfied with... well, whatever it was being under your coverage, that surely isn't Telgar's fault?" Both brows shift upward, questioning. He's more concerned with watching N'thei's response than introducing his own 'mate, but he happens to be the young one sprawled by himself where he can watch the others, copper and brandy joined by enough darkness to make him look more serpentine than he is.
Engrossed in eavesdropping, Talien starts slightly when B'yan announces himself. Upon recovering she affects a wholly casual air, remarking, "Well I wouldn't mind a drink myself - you wouldn't believe the trouble I had trying to find you." Finding the handle of her cane and pushing away from the wall, she adds, "You /did/ pay that man, right? He didn't sound very big but you never really know."
With both Haisen and X'ndar arriving late to the fair, the traveling cloak-wearing woman is already casting a suspicious glance about the crowds as she holds onto the weyrlingmaster's arm. "I must overdressed," she remarks in a low voice to the man as an aside, straightening her cloak idly as she watches some of the womaen walk by in more feminine attire. "Y'didn' tell me I had to dress for this!" Yeah, blame X'ndar. Makes sense to her. All the same, the dark haired woman is already looking in search for something, eyes following a particular couple that both had drinks in hand.
At Gay's side, his eyes equally bright and the rose of alcohol flaring on his cheeks, E'tyn strides out. The arm about the goldrider's waist tightens gently, soothing one last time without words before the world is faced completely. Lowly, as they descend the steps towards the fair, he states to the goldrider, "Chin up, sweetheart." The pet name combines with imploring eyes that have refound their typically guileless state, as E'tyn's brand of ire replaces itself with resignation.
N'thei jibes, "I suppose it doesn't have to happen, but you clearly haven't been nursing chilblains all winter." Even that's with a good-natured smile while he shakes T'rev's hand without crushing it, same for A'zan. Playing nice! Playing nice even extends to sudden focus and keenness that he levels on A'zan, his smile growing gradually to a grin; "So you're saying it's High Reaches' fault then?" Brows go up, he leans back.
Amerie moves over and along to the table occupied by the bronzeriders, drawing up behind N'thei at just about the right or the wrong time, depending on how you look at it. Calmly, brow arching, "Are you chatting, or just picking fights? Not that I have an issue with either." She gives T'rev a nod, but her attention is on A'zan quickly after. In a flat, polite tone, "Arezan." Pause. "Congratulations. I think."
"Trouble?" B'yan blinks at this, even if Talien wouldn't see it, and moves to stand right beside her. "Svodriyth, was it? Remind me to congratulate him on a phenomenal flight he did for Kaylith." Whether it was a tease, a jibe or not, the Reachian bronzerider bares his teeth into a smile and presses the remainder of his wine into her hand. "I paid," he answers idly, looking around. "Were you expecting me to start a fight - this early in the festivities?" Unseen hand over heart, "You wound me, Talien. Here I am, all dressed and looking nice too. Not that you can see it." Hee.
"Chillblains, nope, but I'm still gettin' used to the change in the weather. Ain't never seen snow before this turn," notes T'rev, unperturbed. "Actually, I think he's sayin' ain't no one's fault in particular. But then, A'zan knows lots more 'bout all this stuff n' I do, since he's from here and a scriberly type." That's probably meant as some sort of awkward compliment to his fellow Weyrling, but it might just fall flat in this case. Amerie's approach distracts and the Weyrling's eyes fix on her, appreciative again for the pretty girl. "Oh hey, someone you know A'zan!" He beams at Amerie all cheerful like. "Well met. Telgar's duties to the Reaches. T'rev, bronze Mecaith's. An' we're just enjoyin' some mighty fine wine. Have a bit?" He lifts one of the wineskins, likely the better of the two, but maybe not.
Shanlee's gaze sweeps over the crowd, the buzz of conversation, the gaily dressed traders and visitors, all taken in. As are those weyrlings of his that he catches sight of. Haisen's words draw his head toward her with a low chuckle, "I do remember sayin' somethin' 'bout a dress." his hand coming to cover over hers in gesture of assurance "Look jus' fine ta me." In a louder voice, and hoping to catch some straying Vintner's attention, "Wine, brandy, whiskey?" a brow arching in query to the woman at his as his strides carry them easily into the flow of foot traffic. The appearance of his Weyrleaders noted with a contemplative look that lingers and then drifts off as a round of laughter catches his attention next.
A smirk tugs one side of A'zan's lips up, a smirk that nearly borders on a sneer. For the record he too is playing nice... for him. His own cloud-grey stare meets N'thei's levelly, eyes narrowing a bit in scrutiny. "Hmm. Words must be passing my lips without my notice, because I certainly don't remember saying that at all. I simply meant that whoever the, ah, fault as you say lies with, it shouldn't be an issue between the Weyrs to my mind." He pauses, sips, watching the Reachian over the rim of his glass. "And as for chilblains, how many of those have you gotten at Fort? I'm sure the guest weyr or wherever you're staying while the eggs are on the sand is nice and toasty." He's interrupted from any further words by Amerie's sudden arrival, which earns her an up and down glance of appraisal and an equally even, polite smile. "It's A'zan now, Amerie. Seems the same is due to you," this with a nod at her finally more complex knot. There's that quizzical brow-lift again before he flicks a pointed glance T'rev's way. Too cheery and flaunting A'zan's Crom connections all at once. Nicely done.
N'thei answers Amerie off-handedly, looks up over his shoulder to find her with a brightness suited to such festivities. "Just getting acquainted, dear, though it seems you already are? Surely even you don't think I'd pick a fight with--" He nods to his two younger companions. "And where does the fault lie, lad? I'm keen to hear your highly unbiased opinion on this matter." He laughs a touche-sounding laugh while Fort's brought into it, his head lowered over his glass to give A'zan the point.
For all that her weyrmate might be imploring, for all that Gay might really really /want/ to calm down, she's not the sort of woman to wind down easily; as they come down the steps together, she can't help but spit an entirely inappropriate word that brings up a murmur from the crowd that parts around them. E'tyn can be resigned, regretful. Gay's just /furious/. "I am going to - I can't - the freakin'- I /hate/ him," she seethes. Starting for her dragon - unfortunately beyond the fair - she pretty much pulls E'tyn along with her.
"I had marks on the man I sent to find you," Talien allows pleasantly - forced pleasantly at that, and within a few steps she manages to grind the tip of her cane straight into B'yan's foot. "You know if Jaireth were able to fly a little faster I might be congratulating you." A beat later, Talien reaches for his arm to stop him with a broad smile plastered across her lips. "Don't move." Handy advice for all that she attempts to 'see' what he's wearing by feeling along the line of his shirt. The end result is a dry, "I suppose if its all you had in that wardrobe of yours, it'll /have/ to do."
Being used to being dragged along by Gay, E'tyn doesn't hesitate one step in following after his weyrmate and weyrwoman, an apology cast in the set of his eyes for the people who've heard Gay's less than lady-like profanity. And being the talented sort of man he is, he manages to grab a glass of wine from a passing tray and practically shoves it into Gay's hand, pulling just hard enough on her arm to try and stop her stormy path. Tersely, he compels, "Drink. Calm down."
"No, thank you," Amerie refuses T'rev offer with a polite tiny smile. "I've my own refreshment." There's a smirk to N'thei for that, for some reason - though it turns into something approaching a genuine grin for the Reachian bronzerider, noting, "I used to live here, as did he. And I never know what you might get up to." For A'zan, there's a more neutral nod; she echoes, "A'zan." With a glare for the up and down look, she notes, "How are you finding things - there? Miss home at all?"
"Frankly, I dunno." T'rev's shoulders shrug. "I'm hoping that the higher-ups'll get it all sorted." His voice drops a bit so it's not quite so audible. "Just sort of seems like A'zan said, funny thing for a Lord Holder to be doin' in the middle of all the weird Threadfalls, no?" His hand waggles back and forth. "Sketchy kinda." Amerie's refusal is accepted with another one of those cheery smiles. "Seat then? One more chair." He taps the empty at the table and then, well there's the Telgar Weyrleaders and an infuriated Gay passing not too far away. "Uh oh ..." he murmurs under his breath. "That don't look any kinda good."
The cane to the foot probably isn't a pleasant one, for all the lack of reaction from B'yan entails. "Come now," he tries in a soothing voice towards Talien. "It's not everyday I get to see Svodriyth in a compromising position." Svodriyth, not Talien, it seems. "Jaireth did fine by the way. We hardly remember." When she orders him to stay still, the bronzerider stiffens as she tries to figure out his clothing. Sending a crooked smirk her way, "All--? Oh, Talien. This may not be my -best-, but you got to admire how well it blends on me." Pause. Eyeing her face in the pause that follows, "Or not. Hey, you don't look -that- bad yourself. A new style?" He's taunting her while flagging down a passing woman with a tray of drinks so that his hand claims a glass once again.
Dragon> High Reaches dragons sense that Teonath projects on a wide band to the dragons at Crom, speaking for a stewing Leiventh who simmers with a fury presumably reflected by his rider in the background, << A portion of our tithes have been regained and sits in the far tent, >> a flickering image of bright orange and blue sitting on the outskirts is sent out. << Kaylith and Jaireth's will make sure that the goods are transported before the night is out. >> Where Leiventh boils, Teonath is coldly resigned, a state that shows in the heightened and grating volume of her typically whisper-soft touch.
IC Date: 2/31/14
Crom Hold(#420RIJs)
Like many Holds of Pern, Crom is built within the shelter of a solid panel of rock. An expansive courtyard rests beneath this shelter, leaving up towards massive stone-wrought doors and a wide deck of smoothed boulders. The distinctive shadows of the watchdragon's ledge, the drumheights, and the fireheights rise high on the cliff and dotted along the wall are windows that are either flung open or shuttered depending on the weather or, more dangerously, Thread. Vegetation is lacking in this mine-based Hold, though the carts and beaten paths of miners returning home weave in twisted circles about the Hold, leading far off towards the furthest reaches of the few mines untouched near Crom itself.
A proud Hold, the crests and banners of the family flap in the wind, hanging from the highest windows of the stone walls.
Clad in black from head to toe, one might assume the 'Reachian Weyrsecond's trying to travel incognito if not for the fact that the intricate knot of her position still sits firmly on her shoulder. Stepping out from around the side of a wagon, the greenrider is engaged in a conversation that's clearly not of the 'meet and greet' kind. With her is a tall, broad shouldered man with hawkish features, skin the color of mocha, long glossy black hair tied back in a runnertail that brushes past his shoulders and a bandanna of sapphire blue around his head. That dark red braid being the only slash of color against her attire swings back and forth as she vehemently shakes her head at something said by him. His features harden and black eyes narrow as lips thin into an unforgiving line.
"Reprobate," Vrys accuses T'rev fondly, then eyes Edlyn's wineskin. "That does sound good - is it mulled? - but I probably shouldn't have any more." When Rilkie speaks she shoves back her chair, nearly knocking it into a man passing behind. "Sorry - sure, ma... Rilkie. Now is fine. I'm almost done, anyway, and this can be eaten anywhere. Where did you want to go?"
"I haven't tried anything, myself. Though it all looked good. Had some cheeses earlier, but that's how it goes," Edlyn comments on the subject of food as she pours herself a glass and adds to T'rev's recently emptied glass. "Should be good. It's a merlot, aged real nice in a barrel, y'know?" Glowing at the compliment to her father's craft, Ed nods eagerly to Rilkie. "Please, just tell him that you're my friend? He'll give you a deal, I'm sure..." The greenrider trails off as she focuses on the approaching 'Reachian and she flicks her brows down as she contemplates the scene. Drawn back to the current conversation, she flashes a smile at Vrys. "Oh, no. Not mulled. But still good, I think."
Tavrie, in a move that would surprise few of those that know her well, seems to be headed for what she enjoys most -- the food. With her booted feet mere glints of glossy black underneath the folds of her long dress, she glides toward the stand where the aroma of stew seems to originate. The woman's dress is made burnt umber in color, lost between brown and red of the darkest nature. Clasped at the neck and cloaking her shoulders is a short cape of matching fabric lined in fleece, simple and yet effective. The 'Reachian rider places her order and then peers around her as she waits for it to be presented.
Overhead, all bluster and possession, like he pretty much owns the place, Wyaeth jumps in from *between* with a rustic bugle of greeting to any and all Reaches dragons-- not that he excludes non-Reaches dragons since it's perfectly audible to everyone, but anyway. The rangy bronze circles twice in a teetery arc and lands boldly in the middle of the fireheights, practically shoves a recently arrived blue out of the way to make room, one-side-slim. Only a few minutes pass before his rider, big but not nearly as pompous, comes out from the big double doors to the courtyard.
T'rev's smile waxes all the brighter for the addition of the wine to his glass. "Thanks much!" And he lifts the flagon briefly in a toast towards the weyrling greenrider and again up Jenivrys' way. "Absolutely, Vrys. An' proud of it." Apparently being out and about at the fair is making T'rev very very jolly. "Enjoy your chat, ladies," this to Rilkie and Vrys and his eyes settle on the Reachian briefly as well before they return to his clutchmate. "So, good visit with the folks then? Wanna swing back that way later?"
Rilkie gives a general wave through the stalls. "We could walk around a bit, and talk? Or find somewhere quieter, if you'd rather a break from all the people." To the rest of the group, she smiles as she rises from the table. "Enjoy the fair, everyone. And Edlyn, I'll make sure to do so!" She motions to Vrys, the two brownriders head off and disappear into the crowd.
Edlyn draws her glass up for a swirl and then she sips slowly, attention drawn in and out of the conversation at the table as more and more activity seems to be centered around the food. It is lunch time, after all. Everyone would be drawn in by the welcome smells of fresh food. "Oh? Yeah, it was okay. I was helping dad set up and getting caught up with my mother." She smiles at the bronze weyrling, "You should come meet them later, if you want." Her free hand lifts in a wave to the departing Rilkie and Vrys. "Enjoy, you two!"
Shanlee's not even trying to cover her anger now, so anyone passing by might overhear snatches of conversation. "Those marks are -mine- Senjin!" a hand balls into a fist at her side, "We had a deal." A low inaudible comment from the big trader, draws a curl of lip into a sneer from the greenrider "I don't owe you nothing, anymore." Fingers flick at her shoulder knot in emphasis "I call the shots now. Got it?" Turning on her heel with a grim set to the fine features, she flings one last comment in parting "I'll be coming for what's mine before the night's out. Best be sure to have it ready." With that she melts into the throng of bodies that flows passed, with a grim set to the fine features.
*....that flows passed. (Ends there. XD)
N'thei passes by Shanlee like he knew exactly how to find her amid the thick of the crowd, says without slowing his steps from a path bound and determined to find drinks, "Hardly fitting behavior for the Weyrsecond, miss. You looked ready to, I-don't-know, go for the man's throat." Flashing her a cheeky smile, he peers over the tops of heads toward anything bearing the Vintner's crest. He politely but firmly assaults members of the crowd; "Wine? Where? Excuse me, wine?"
"We've got some here, sir!" T'rev calls over towards N'thei. "And there's mulled stuff at that stall there," a helpful thumb-jerk. "We've a vintner's daughter here though, who brought us the good stuff." A broad grin seems to be a permanent fixture on T'rev's face.
"Wine? Did you say wine, bronzerider? Well, I've got the finest selection here for your choosing," a stout little man comes upon N'thei with a tray of wine held out in presentation. "Take your pick. I suggest the red, m'self," the man continues as he nods to the glass closest to his hand. "Best one I've got." Edlyn ducks her head, lifting a hand to shield her face from view. "Er, eesh, there's my father now." She looks to T'rev with a grimace. "Don't want him to see me now, when I'm 'posed to be out doing that. I'm going to go grab something to eat..!" With that, the greenrider's up in a flurry of skirts and disappearing back into the safety of the growing crowd.
Amerie drifts along into the fair and along the edges, the tall girl moving alone through the crowds silently and - it has to be said, a bit warily. Occasionally, someone in Crom colours will greet her; with a quick nod and the barest of pleasantries she moves on. For some reason, when T'rev shouts, she narrows her eyes his way with interest - and starts in that vague direction.
N'thei calls toward whomever, "Unless the 'good stuff' means the Vintner's daughter herself..." He trades marks-for-wine with the stout chap bearing the tray, buys whatever's cheap by the skin but still palatable, and shoulders his way toward young T'rev, undoubtedly hopeful to find the daughter in question lingering thereabouts. Suddenly; "Did you call me sir? Could take a liking to that."
Shanlee nearly jumps a foot high as N'thei falls into step with her, "Not as far as that one's concerned." tightly given of the large trader she'd just left in her wake. There is a faint smirk afforded the bronzerider, "Some men just don't appreciate the hands on approach." said through a dramatically tragic sigh. Eyes that hold a highly amused light track his path away from her, the stout little man hailed down for one of those glasses on his tray.
Back N'thei's way, T'rev calls out cheerily as Edlyn ducks out of sight. "She's spoken for, but that was her father you just paid, so it's prob'ly decent enough stuff." His flagon is lifted as the Reachian approaches. There's chairs available around the Weyrling now, since the girls and A'zan have moved on to find food and quiet and whatever else. "Yessir, that I did." A salute next too. "Telgar's duties to the Reaches. If y'need food recommendations too, I'm your man." Cocky grin and all, T'rev goes on.
Tavrie beams warmly as she exchanges her marks for a bread bowl of stew and a steaming mug of mulled fruit juice. "Thank you kindly, this will warm things up quite a bit," she tells him before turning and ambling slowly toward the tables. Eyes scan the people there, looking for an open seat and some cheerful faces to sit with.
Bowl of stew purchased and balanced on one palm, A'zan slips among the food vendors' patrons on his way back to the table where T'rev sits. His footfalls slow as he sees the man joining them, notable both for his lack of familiarity and his size. Sidestepping, he murmurs apologies and shifts his stew to shield it from passing elbows as he circles aroudn to get a better look at N'thei from the front. High Reaches knot is spotted and the neutral expression he wears becomes a bit more firm, his lips a thin line as he strides in on the group. "Thanks for the directions, T'rev, this stew is quite good," he offers casually. He sets the stew down to free up his right hand for a neat salute to the Reachian bronzerider, murmuring a short, "Duties."
Drawing closer, Amerie's gaze flicks from T'rev to the rider he's talking to - N'thei - and Shanlee not too far off. With a tiny quirk of a smile, the girl begins to move towards the Weyrsecond at least - but both a voice and somewhat familiar shape give her pause. She turns slightly on her way to Shanlee, flicking a look A'zan's way. "Evening, Weyrsecond," she offers - but her somewhat disapproving look is all for the Telgari weyrling.
N'thei laughs to repeat under his breath, "Spoken for." And? There's no Vintner-looking girl around T'rev, though a cursory sweep of the area certainly looks for one before N'thei breaks a smile for the Telgari weyrling, brings his hand up complete with the wineskin in it to salute back to the kid, to the other kid right after. His eyes dart after a glance of Amerie-- preoccupied with the ladies-- while he drops into a seat that creaks unhappily at his weight, chat continuing. "What are we drinking to, young gents? Cromcoal and bygones?"
"Glad it's suitin'." T'rev's manner continues open and downright friendly, for A'zan and for the very big Reachian dude. "Gotta say, I haven't stumbled across anything as tasted /bad/ today." Down to one chair still available at the table the Weyrlings are seated, since A'zan and N'thei joined T'rev, the enjoyment of wine seemingly ongoing in that corner of the fair, the stalls all around doing a hopping business. The Weyrling's gaze tracks N'thei's to Amerie and Shanlee again, the light of appreciation flashing briefly before his eyes snap back to the big guy. "Bein' let outta the Weyr for an evenin' of carouse." Up goes his flagon again. "Dunno much about coal, m'self. I'm from Nerat. Now see if you wanna know about jungles, klahbark trees an' bawdy songs? I can tell you a fair bit."
Shanlee's starting to notice the vast amount of knots representing Telgar, her face becoming schooled more and more into an expression of bland neutrality as a polite dip of head goes first one way and then the other. The edges of N'thei's toast just caught and narrowing eyes briefly for a moment before she's responding to Amerie, "Evening Amerie. Busy isn't it?" a pointed sweep going across the crowd.
Slipping quietly into the crowd, it's almost easy to miss the fact that B'yan was present. He's ambling along the trader stalls, exchanging words with a few that apparently seem familiar with each other and somewhere along the way picking up a glass of something red in one hand.
Tavrie casts a glance at N'thei and the Telgari folk that he is talking to and then makes an executive decision to wander over to Shanlee and Amerie. "Evening," she greets them warmly, still stuck holding her food and drink and left with no hands to eat. The 'Reachian junior's face lacks the neutral air that many have, lit as usual with a welcoming smile.
"Busy enough, ma'am. Busy with people from... all over." Amerie's dark gaze levels on N'thei for a minute and she gives the big man a nod, expression briefly wary again. But he's a ways off, and the assistant headwoman is standing with Shanlee, so her attention shifts to the greenrider with a faint smile. "How are you this evening?" As Tavrie approaches, she nods lowly to offer a polite, "Ma'am. Evening."
"Not much about coal? Psshh, count yourselves lucky, lads." N'thei imparts his wisdom sagely, with good humor that only increases when he doles out a glass for himself and plops the rest of the wineskin into his lap. "To the haves and the have-nots, and all the burned bridges between them." He tosses the drink down his throat with a satisfied wipe from the heel of his hand across his mouth. In a good-natured chide, he asks, "Now then, since when do they let weyrlings out for carousing like this? Seems like bad form, corrupting the youth."
A'zan takes his time straightening his bowl, pulling a napkin from where he's stowed it up his sleeve and spreading it across a thigh. He flicks a slow glance up at N'thei, eyes inching up in slow increments. "Cromcoal and bygones? To abundance of the first, current and future?" A faint smirk touches the corner of his mouth and then he nods toward the wineskin. "Pour me a splash of that wine, T'rev?" As he's glassless he can't join in N'thei's toast but the man's good humor at least lightens the stone in his eyes a touch. "The dragons are a turn now and we're betweening. It's not as if they set us loose to get soused, laid, and turned out for brawling in the same evening."
"Nope. Just about haulin' it. Y'know, to work out Weyrling muscles." T'rev mimes lifting and hefting sacks with his free arm, still all good-humored himself. "An' here's to good food, good wine and better company," T'rev tacks on, flagon up again and he matches N'thei's tossback, the giddiness of a little freedom apparently gone clear to his head. "Since the Weyrlingmaster said so?" He gives an easy shrug and pours out wine for A'zan. "Sure thing A'zan. S'good stuff." Slide, goes an empty vessel now full for the other bronzeriding Weyrling from Telgar. "I dunno. All of those sound pretty good. Well at least the first two."
The big mocha skinned man the 'Reachian Weyrsecond had been engaged with a while back, suddenly shoulders his way through the crowd and roughly pushes two small leather bags into her hand. With just a long hard look at the petite greenrider but not a word uttered he continues onward. Shan's expression flicks between a smug smirk to his back as her hand closes over the bags and then pockets them, to one of congeniality for her company. First to Amerie, "Looks like everyone is taking the opportunity to 'mingle.'" that word given deliberate emphasis. Once Tavrie joins them, she's afforded a smile, "Evening Tavrie, nice night out isn't it?" Such, polite surface conversation. N'thei is kept in the redhead's peripherals, a light frown touching and then leaving.
Tavrie waves off Amerie's 'ma'am' and smiles. "Please, Tavrie," she offers with a warm smile. "No call for standing on circumstance with me and especially not tonight. "I'm out here to try and enjoy a little of the fair while keeping out of anything that might resemble work," she notes, looking around playfully for someone out to catch her. Tavrie's glance swings to Shanlee and one brow quivers, seeming to be kept in place by sheer will. "Oh yes, a lovely evening," she drawls blandly.
More late than fashionably late, Talien arrives sans escort and bedecked in her finest 'Reachian wear - an oversized jacket, a floppy hat and (hidden off to her side) her gifted cane. It's the later which helps her navigate her way toward the trader stalls, though she keeps her head half tilted with an ear toward the main ground. "I know you're in here," she announces to no one in particular, "-and if you save me the trouble of having to find you myself, I might just buy you a drink."
Wine glass almost empty, B'yan pauses by one of the stalls selling various wherhide footwear. Casting furtive glances about the crowd, the Reachian wingsecond starts to engage the man in conversation, pointing out a couple of the boots that were visible from the stall. The trader seems loud and amiable, carrying on about them being the better of footwear found on the fairgrounds. B'yan's yet to see anyone of recognition, too engaged in examining the wares.
N'thei's grin broadens at the turned-out-for-brawling, and he openly sizes up the two weyrlings with whom he's settled for drinks. "Sounds like an appropriate end to an evening to me, though you'll forgive me if I don't rush to pick a fight with you lads?" There's the second glass, down the hatch, and there's a nod sent to acknowledge the many looks he's receiving from Shanlee-and-company. With a sudden cough, he sputters down his drink and says abruptly, "Remiss. Names?"
Amerie's attention momentarily focuses on Shanlee's less obvious activities, with a brow arched. Even so, she's quick to note, "Well, it's a good way to - get information, I suppose. You can learn an awful lot, and plant a few ideas... not the worst plan." Glancing over to Tavrie, she seems a touch uncomfortable as she agrees, "Of course. Tavrie." Her attention eventually returns to the table of bronzeriders - weyrling and otherwise - with interest.
"Only if you're really piss drunk," notes T'rev amiably and he refills his own flagon too and lifts it towards N'thei's. "'Preciate that actually, sir. I'm thinkin' our Weyrlingmaster ain't goin' to have too much of a problem with a little drinkin' an' dancin' but a pair of shiners wouldn't go down too well." The cough and following question earn a merry chuckle. "T'rev, bronze Mecaith's," he introduces himself and sits up to lean across the table and offer the Reachian a callused hand.
If Shan notices any of the looks coming from Amerie over her recent exchange, she blithely ignores them, to offer after a good swallow of the wine in hand, "Information is what trader's are about. Get to know a few, learn how to ply them, and you'll never be short of it." As the bronzerider's both 'Reachian and Telgari become increasingly friendly with each other, lips curl into a display of dry amusement, "Least the boys are having fun."
"A'zan. Weyrling to bronze Kevruth," A'zan supplies it easily enough, though that ghost of a smile has slipped away and left quiet observation in its place. Rather than offer yet another toast of his own he simply lifts the glass and takes a long slow sip, eyes sliding closed as it runs down his throat. "It may not be the finest vintage but I think that may be the sweetest taste of wine I've ever had." In spite of his air of general reserve the comment is spoken lightly. "First in over a turn," he explains as if that weren't easily guessable. He pauses for a beat, eyes drifting up and over the man who has about 4 inches and a good many pounds of muscle on him. "Somehow I think if we went home with only a pair of shiners we'd be doing pretty well in this case. It's good a bronze found you - I doubt a blue could get you off the ground..." he pauses pointedly for the name yet to be supplied.
Quirking a tiny smile, Amerie allows to Shanlee, "So I am beginning to see. Around here, it's the hold staff that tend to have the most information - in any case, it's never a bad thing to have." With her gaze still fixed on the table, she echoes to the Weyrsecond, "Fun. I don't know that /that/ one has fun." Though the same could be said for the tall girl herself, she gives a nod towards A'zan. "If you'll excuse me, ma'am? Tavrie?"
N'thei sounds surprised; "No? Maybe your Weyrlingmaster and mine should shake hands, exchange philosophies. I'daur likely sees shiners as rites of passage. You don't really suppose Crom invited Telgar /and/ the Reaches without expecting it to come to blows sooner or later, do you?" He switches his cup to his left hand to stick his right one out toward the pair of weyrlings, whoever's first. "Pleasure, lads. N'thei, part and parcel with one bronze Wyaeth." Cue a look to the fireheights where his particular bronze is swaggering about to compare who has the widest wingspread, the longest tail, etc.
Talien's offer of a drink has yet to reach its intended target. But she does find at least one person willing to take her up on her offer, and it's this person whose waylaid into finding her original target. Thus B'yan finds himself approached by a sensible looking man who, just after tapping the bronzerider on the shoulder, hastily sweeps a herder-style hat from his head. "Girl said you was buying drinks," comes the man's initial greeting, "And all I had to do to get mine was tell you she's not over there." Where the man points is where Talien stands, casually resting against the side of a stall.
Tavrie smiles politely and bobs her head in reply to Amerie before shifting her gaze away and setting her sights on a table that is just empyting. "Ahh...there's the ticket," she notes. "I'm going to take this over and have a seat," she excuses herself as well before hurrying over to claim a still warm chair.
"Sounds like a good plan, X'ndar's a decent sort. Knows as many bawdies as I do an' that's sayin' somethin'." T'rev smirks blithely then shrugs at N'thei's remark about brawling. "Don't gotta happen if it don't gotta. Gotta say, didn't think 'bout that too much. Mostly focused on havin' some of this and gettin' in a few good dances with a pretty girl or three and one in particular." A loose, lopsided grin accompanies that statement as his eyes follow a bright skirt by in between the aisles. He clasps hands with N'thei, his grip firm, but probably nowhere near what the Reachian's capable of. His eyes lift briefly to swaggering Wyaeth and he nods. "Mec's the one next to that green there. The sandy-lookin' one. He's still watchin' the crowd patterns." Mecaith is indeed, largely ignoring all the other dragons but the green at his side and his slow-whirling gaze is fixed on the fairgrounds below.
It's not as if it's likely not expected. Not too long after the library of the Hold was closed for whatever meeting happened to be going on in there, the doors of the Hold proper fling wide open to issue one righteously pissed-off Weyrwoman. The colour of Gay's cheeks rivals that of her curls, and though she may try to look calm, with E'tyn at her side and his arm around her waist, it's a losing battle. Her eyes are bright, and she's shaking, mouth set in a thin line.
Shanlee offers Amerie's words a low chuckle "Fun is what you make of it." Lips curling up into a lopsided grin. Once both Amerie and Tavrie take their leave and devoid of company, Shan heads off toward a group of women dressed in glaringly bright clothing, a wide grin covering her mouth.
B'yan was in the middle of being handed over a nice pair of boots for close examination when he gets the tap to his shoulder. Turning, the words from the man gets an arched brow from him before he follows the look towards the familiar form of Talien. The dubious look shifts to a wry lopsided smirk, handing the trader back the boots and making his way slowly over to Talien with his glass. Tossing a mark towards the man, "For your troubles," he drawls to him without affording him further regard, and once he had reached the bluerider's side, he taps her shoulder lightly and remarks, "Is there anything else I should be doing for you here at this fair, miss?" with a hint of amusement more than reproach in his voice.
A'zan arches a brow, giving N'thei's hand the briefest of squeezes, a firm grip but surely not hard enough to tempt the Reachian to prove his own undoubtedly superior strength. "Well met," he offers in a flat tone that belies the words a bit, before he settles back into a lounge with hands around his glass. "Blows? Between the Weyrs? Come now, shouldn't the dragonriders be on the same side? It isn't as if High Reaches foisted the Hold off on us, or as if we deliberately stole them from you. If they weren't satisfied with... well, whatever it was being under your coverage, that surely isn't Telgar's fault?" Both brows shift upward, questioning. He's more concerned with watching N'thei's response than introducing his own 'mate, but he happens to be the young one sprawled by himself where he can watch the others, copper and brandy joined by enough darkness to make him look more serpentine than he is.
Engrossed in eavesdropping, Talien starts slightly when B'yan announces himself. Upon recovering she affects a wholly casual air, remarking, "Well I wouldn't mind a drink myself - you wouldn't believe the trouble I had trying to find you." Finding the handle of her cane and pushing away from the wall, she adds, "You /did/ pay that man, right? He didn't sound very big but you never really know."
With both Haisen and X'ndar arriving late to the fair, the traveling cloak-wearing woman is already casting a suspicious glance about the crowds as she holds onto the weyrlingmaster's arm. "I must overdressed," she remarks in a low voice to the man as an aside, straightening her cloak idly as she watches some of the womaen walk by in more feminine attire. "Y'didn' tell me I had to dress for this!" Yeah, blame X'ndar. Makes sense to her. All the same, the dark haired woman is already looking in search for something, eyes following a particular couple that both had drinks in hand.
At Gay's side, his eyes equally bright and the rose of alcohol flaring on his cheeks, E'tyn strides out. The arm about the goldrider's waist tightens gently, soothing one last time without words before the world is faced completely. Lowly, as they descend the steps towards the fair, he states to the goldrider, "Chin up, sweetheart." The pet name combines with imploring eyes that have refound their typically guileless state, as E'tyn's brand of ire replaces itself with resignation.
N'thei jibes, "I suppose it doesn't have to happen, but you clearly haven't been nursing chilblains all winter." Even that's with a good-natured smile while he shakes T'rev's hand without crushing it, same for A'zan. Playing nice! Playing nice even extends to sudden focus and keenness that he levels on A'zan, his smile growing gradually to a grin; "So you're saying it's High Reaches' fault then?" Brows go up, he leans back.
Amerie moves over and along to the table occupied by the bronzeriders, drawing up behind N'thei at just about the right or the wrong time, depending on how you look at it. Calmly, brow arching, "Are you chatting, or just picking fights? Not that I have an issue with either." She gives T'rev a nod, but her attention is on A'zan quickly after. In a flat, polite tone, "Arezan." Pause. "Congratulations. I think."
"Trouble?" B'yan blinks at this, even if Talien wouldn't see it, and moves to stand right beside her. "Svodriyth, was it? Remind me to congratulate him on a phenomenal flight he did for Kaylith." Whether it was a tease, a jibe or not, the Reachian bronzerider bares his teeth into a smile and presses the remainder of his wine into her hand. "I paid," he answers idly, looking around. "Were you expecting me to start a fight - this early in the festivities?" Unseen hand over heart, "You wound me, Talien. Here I am, all dressed and looking nice too. Not that you can see it." Hee.
"Chillblains, nope, but I'm still gettin' used to the change in the weather. Ain't never seen snow before this turn," notes T'rev, unperturbed. "Actually, I think he's sayin' ain't no one's fault in particular. But then, A'zan knows lots more 'bout all this stuff n' I do, since he's from here and a scriberly type." That's probably meant as some sort of awkward compliment to his fellow Weyrling, but it might just fall flat in this case. Amerie's approach distracts and the Weyrling's eyes fix on her, appreciative again for the pretty girl. "Oh hey, someone you know A'zan!" He beams at Amerie all cheerful like. "Well met. Telgar's duties to the Reaches. T'rev, bronze Mecaith's. An' we're just enjoyin' some mighty fine wine. Have a bit?" He lifts one of the wineskins, likely the better of the two, but maybe not.
Shanlee's gaze sweeps over the crowd, the buzz of conversation, the gaily dressed traders and visitors, all taken in. As are those weyrlings of his that he catches sight of. Haisen's words draw his head toward her with a low chuckle, "I do remember sayin' somethin' 'bout a dress." his hand coming to cover over hers in gesture of assurance "Look jus' fine ta me." In a louder voice, and hoping to catch some straying Vintner's attention, "Wine, brandy, whiskey?" a brow arching in query to the woman at his as his strides carry them easily into the flow of foot traffic. The appearance of his Weyrleaders noted with a contemplative look that lingers and then drifts off as a round of laughter catches his attention next.
A smirk tugs one side of A'zan's lips up, a smirk that nearly borders on a sneer. For the record he too is playing nice... for him. His own cloud-grey stare meets N'thei's levelly, eyes narrowing a bit in scrutiny. "Hmm. Words must be passing my lips without my notice, because I certainly don't remember saying that at all. I simply meant that whoever the, ah, fault as you say lies with, it shouldn't be an issue between the Weyrs to my mind." He pauses, sips, watching the Reachian over the rim of his glass. "And as for chilblains, how many of those have you gotten at Fort? I'm sure the guest weyr or wherever you're staying while the eggs are on the sand is nice and toasty." He's interrupted from any further words by Amerie's sudden arrival, which earns her an up and down glance of appraisal and an equally even, polite smile. "It's A'zan now, Amerie. Seems the same is due to you," this with a nod at her finally more complex knot. There's that quizzical brow-lift again before he flicks a pointed glance T'rev's way. Too cheery and flaunting A'zan's Crom connections all at once. Nicely done.
N'thei answers Amerie off-handedly, looks up over his shoulder to find her with a brightness suited to such festivities. "Just getting acquainted, dear, though it seems you already are? Surely even you don't think I'd pick a fight with--" He nods to his two younger companions. "And where does the fault lie, lad? I'm keen to hear your highly unbiased opinion on this matter." He laughs a touche-sounding laugh while Fort's brought into it, his head lowered over his glass to give A'zan the point.
For all that her weyrmate might be imploring, for all that Gay might really really /want/ to calm down, she's not the sort of woman to wind down easily; as they come down the steps together, she can't help but spit an entirely inappropriate word that brings up a murmur from the crowd that parts around them. E'tyn can be resigned, regretful. Gay's just /furious/. "I am going to - I can't - the freakin'- I /hate/ him," she seethes. Starting for her dragon - unfortunately beyond the fair - she pretty much pulls E'tyn along with her.
"I had marks on the man I sent to find you," Talien allows pleasantly - forced pleasantly at that, and within a few steps she manages to grind the tip of her cane straight into B'yan's foot. "You know if Jaireth were able to fly a little faster I might be congratulating you." A beat later, Talien reaches for his arm to stop him with a broad smile plastered across her lips. "Don't move." Handy advice for all that she attempts to 'see' what he's wearing by feeling along the line of his shirt. The end result is a dry, "I suppose if its all you had in that wardrobe of yours, it'll /have/ to do."
Being used to being dragged along by Gay, E'tyn doesn't hesitate one step in following after his weyrmate and weyrwoman, an apology cast in the set of his eyes for the people who've heard Gay's less than lady-like profanity. And being the talented sort of man he is, he manages to grab a glass of wine from a passing tray and practically shoves it into Gay's hand, pulling just hard enough on her arm to try and stop her stormy path. Tersely, he compels, "Drink. Calm down."
"No, thank you," Amerie refuses T'rev offer with a polite tiny smile. "I've my own refreshment." There's a smirk to N'thei for that, for some reason - though it turns into something approaching a genuine grin for the Reachian bronzerider, noting, "I used to live here, as did he. And I never know what you might get up to." For A'zan, there's a more neutral nod; she echoes, "A'zan." With a glare for the up and down look, she notes, "How are you finding things - there? Miss home at all?"
"Frankly, I dunno." T'rev's shoulders shrug. "I'm hoping that the higher-ups'll get it all sorted." His voice drops a bit so it's not quite so audible. "Just sort of seems like A'zan said, funny thing for a Lord Holder to be doin' in the middle of all the weird Threadfalls, no?" His hand waggles back and forth. "Sketchy kinda." Amerie's refusal is accepted with another one of those cheery smiles. "Seat then? One more chair." He taps the empty at the table and then, well there's the Telgar Weyrleaders and an infuriated Gay passing not too far away. "Uh oh ..." he murmurs under his breath. "That don't look any kinda good."
The cane to the foot probably isn't a pleasant one, for all the lack of reaction from B'yan entails. "Come now," he tries in a soothing voice towards Talien. "It's not everyday I get to see Svodriyth in a compromising position." Svodriyth, not Talien, it seems. "Jaireth did fine by the way. We hardly remember." When she orders him to stay still, the bronzerider stiffens as she tries to figure out his clothing. Sending a crooked smirk her way, "All--? Oh, Talien. This may not be my -best-, but you got to admire how well it blends on me." Pause. Eyeing her face in the pause that follows, "Or not. Hey, you don't look -that- bad yourself. A new style?" He's taunting her while flagging down a passing woman with a tray of drinks so that his hand claims a glass once again.
Dragon> High Reaches dragons sense that Teonath projects on a wide band to the dragons at Crom, speaking for a stewing Leiventh who simmers with a fury presumably reflected by his rider in the background, << A portion of our tithes have been regained and sits in the far tent, >> a flickering image of bright orange and blue sitting on the outskirts is sent out. << Kaylith and Jaireth's will make sure that the goods are transported before the night is out. >> Where Leiventh boils, Teonath is coldly resigned, a state that shows in the heightened and grating volume of her typically whisper-soft touch.