Post-Hatching breakfast.
RL Date: 3/15/08
IC Date: 8/31/15 --Immediately after the hatching.
You wander through the archway, into the living cavern.
The spread in the caverns is impressive given it's barely seven o'clock in the morning. The serving tables are laden with dishes of eggs, sausages, fried tubers, toast, fresh fruit, tempting little pastries, muffins, klah, klah, klah, and a little more klah. Those who left early enough are already scattered at tables, eating and yawning and discussing the highlights.
N'thei and Satiet. Don't they look just so fine entering together, hard to even tell if they're bickering under forced smiles. The Weyrleader leaves her at the entrance to shake hands while he does the same with those who haven't made a vtol-line for the breakfast. Clearly, they'd both rather duck the obligation.
A'son strides into the cavern from the lower caverns.
Standing by said impressive serving table is a rather unimpressive Healer. With a dark scowl on her face, Iesia is considering the options, though neither seems to impress her much. "M. Klah." Klah is taken, cradled and sipped at eagerly.
Finally semi-awake, Carmen and her father enter the Living Caverns together, apparently chatting amicably about the hatching--but reality's often different from appearances. Jatkan makes some motion to his daughter and then heading off to get in line for food.
A'son walks into the living caverns, but doesn't throw himself all the way into the crowds. Instead he hangs back, seeming more interested in watching than mingling. Or is he looking for something? The former Reaches bronzerider does indeed have the look of someone who is searching. When he doesn't find what he's looking for right away, he pushes forward moving through the people and towards the breakfast.
N'thei detaches himself from a handshake that's been going on for just short of forever, says something to the exuberant parent that doesn't sound quite like a compliment and leaves the man frowning. All in a few quick steps, ones that are just intent enough that he can avoid further entanglement, he passes the drab healer with a hi-how-are-you smile. "I can't believe you had the brass to show up here." Guess which bronzeriding traitor he's talking to!
As holding up the line is never a good thing, Iesia finally makes a selection, adding a bit of sausage and toast to her plate before retreating to a nearby seat. Her klah is nursed first, however, and her plate just kind of acts as table decoration while she sips.
"I was born here, I get to visit whenever I want." A'son replies, not skipping a beat when he turns around to face his clutchmate. He hasn't made it to the food yet, and for that he seems almost mournful. The bronzeriding traitor is suffering from some pretty nasty looking sunburn, and he has salve on his skin so he looks all types of slimey from it. "Does this mean you're not missing me while I'm gone?"
"Define 'miss.'" N'thei surveys A'son like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or getting ready to drop the other shoe himself, whichever. "You like like--" A word better kept quiet rather than blurted out in the middle of a crowd of visitors. "Let's eat." His head hitches toward the food, line-of-sight grazed across the healer's plate with something like envy.
Moving through the crowds, Carmen suddenly finds herself almost running over the Istan Weyrleader. Turning so she isn't facing him, but N'thei, she offers a polite smile and an elegant curtsey. "Splendid Hatching, Weyrleader. You must be very proud." A tiny green flitter wrapped around her shoulder peers up at the unfamiliar riders, crooning softly in childish inquiry.
Calliosae strides in from the tunnel to the bowl.
Calliosae has arrived.
"Miss, to... long for someone's company. Who do you abuse now that I'm not around? Does B'yan really fill that void?" A'son asks, amusement tugging at his lips. Eyes quickly moving to the food, he agrees. "Yeah, lets eat. I'm starving. Figures you'd have eggs that want to hatch at the crack of dawn." Carmen maybe tried to turn away, but A'son still sees her. There's a frown forming, but he dashes it away by not looking at her. What you see doesn't exist!
N'thei looks down at Carmen, across the dark hair and pouty lips and there's no point pretending the things he's thinking aren't written all over his face and not fit for mixed company. Instead; "Must I." He ignores the firelizard outright. "Don't talk about B'yan to me. I've avoided flying to Ista and beating the crap out of you, I'd rather not do it at a hatching feast." He does reach to give A'son a shove toward the food, move faster.
"Well I certainly understand where you get your charm from," Carmen quips at A'son before turning towards food as well. Unfortunately that puts her right behind the two bronzeriders. With a long-suffering sigh, she tries to tune them out and instead scans the crowds for familiar, more congenial faces.
Calliosae wanders into the living caverns quietly, her fingers laced in front of her as she walks. She holds in that small yawn that threatens to escape before she lifts one hand to rub at her eyes. A glance around the area and she trails towards the food, quietly humming to herself.
And here come the harpers! Littering in one by one with the crowd, marked by the instruments they carry, they filter into a corner of the Living Cavern that offers the most view and acoustic favorability. They seem to be missing a few components, as a journeyman stands among them looking around fretfully. Finally a tall boy with a scar breaks from the group, searching amongst those gathered, those in line...
Laukori strides into the cavern from the lower caverns.
Laukori has arrived.
What? A'son is still not looking at Carmen and still pretending he can't hear her either. "Why, isn't he one of your Wingleader's, thought you'd like 'em a little bit." He pushes, smirking a touch. He laughs when the other rider pushes him. "And, so what stopped you? I could have used the company. The Istans are insane. One of my Wingleaders is like Shanlee if she had an addiction to fellis and couldn't get a fix."
Milani wanders into the cavern from the lower caverns.
Milani has arrived.
"I had my hands full here." N'thei suits action to words and takes a plate, somehow circumventing most of the line-- Weyrleaders' privilege, since there are two of them? "While you're off basking in the sun." He has to stop and give A'son's sunburn a serves-you-right smirk. "We're dealing with actual problems, remember? --Not that I'd trade you. I met Griere once; I prefer Satiet." That's high praise too. "Is she talking to us?" He lowers his voice to ask that, twitches his chin toward Carmen.
Food. About 7:30 in the morning, every kind of breakfast treaty one could hope to find, a slow-moving line of groggy people piling up their plates. It's kind of like a party but with a lot more yawning and demands for klah.
A'son lowers his voice to a near inaudible hiss. "Probably. I told her she couldn't sell wine at Ista anymore the other day. Big mouth." He clears his throat and then begins to fill his plate. "I'm hardly off basking in the sun. I'm not used to the sun at all. I thought I was going to die of heat exhaustion the first week." At N'thei's one comment, his almost happy attitude falters, an odd one replacing it momentarily. "I wouldn't trade Griere for Satiet."
Despite the hour, Griere is bright eyed and well-coifed and all of that. And she is, rather patiently, in the line for tea. Patient aside from the little tap of her fingers against the top clasp of her flight jacket - a jacket all buttoned up even if it is summer, or summer by local standards at least.
Milani has been helping with set up for the last little while, since the last dragons were shelled and she snuck out. She's found a moment to change too into something more festive than the pajamas she had on when she roused the Candidates from bed with. A platter is set down, the cover on a pitcher adjusted and then she turns to observe the cavern, arms folded across chest, blowing out a long, relieved sigh.
"I'm 'rude', /Weyrleader/," Carmen begins. "Not deaf." Fed up with both of them, she changes course and hits the line for tea. Perhaps she'll find better company there.
N'thei mumbles audibly, "Big something-else too." One last sideways look at Carmen while she's huffing off. He's just about to overflow his plate when something about the shift in A'son's attitude arrests him throwing more toast on the pile; "What's that about, mate? You wouldn't trade her?" He even goes to the trouble of looking squarely at his pseudo-friend.
A'son glances finally towards Carmen as she huffs off. "Perhaps she'd be interested in spending time with you." He comments in dry tones, lifting an eyebrow. He finishes topping off the plate. He shoots a look towards N'thei, and then another one around the room. It of course finds Griere over there, waiting. "No, I wouldn't." Simple, honest. "Lets find a place to sit and eat, unharassed?"
Perhaps she has been keeping tabs on A'son all the while, but Griere's idle glance around the room finds her weyrleader easily. If she's eavesdropping at all, that hearing is likely distracted as she now steps up to collect her mug of tea--just tea this morning, none of the other fair--before moving away from the crowded lines and out to a less busy spot. She takes a moment to stand and blow across the top of her mug, but her eyes find A'son again, keen as she watches him attempt to move off with N'thei.
Accepting a mug of hot klah from the serving table, Carmen shoots a venomous glare in A'son and N'thei's direction before following the woman in front of her to a table. As the woman turns, Carmen sees her knot and stops, remembering something Fayre told her. "Mind if I join you?" she asks the weyrwoman politely, dropping into as much of a curtsey as she can with a full mug of klah.
N'thei's lucky; he and Satiet have a tacit agreement not to go near each other most of the time, and her end right now involves being on the other side of the room, making small talk. "You're not-- let's sit, you're right." Conveniently, a few people are only too happy let a pair of Weyrleaders have their seats, but not without first saying something about the hatching, the food, congratulations to A'son on his recent victory, the usual.
A'son nods to all of it, looking uncomfortable at all the points that he would normally look uncomfortable at. Especially when an old uncle comes by, claps his shoulder and makes a fairly odd remark. He narrows his eyes, lifts a 'brow and glances at N'thei. "Uh huh. Good to know they don't change, I guess." He's just about getting ready to dig into his meal when he sees Carmen zeroing in on Griere. The fork isn't all the way into his mouth and groan. If someone could give someone else a look of warning with the suddening widening of their eyes and "subtle" finger-pointing, that would be a good example of what A'son is doing right now. Looking bug-eyed and finger-pointy. "So... I heard about Crom."
Milani's gaze catches on two particular riders. Two Weyrleaders and a quick beaming smile flashes across her face. The girl starts forward then comes to a halt and she schools her features, then turns back to the tables, this time to join the lines for food. Still her head swivels over every few minutes to keep track.
Griere blinks at Carmen over the rim of her mug and she lets that blank look hang in silence for a beat. "Join me in standing?" she asks as if perhaps she didn't hear the question right. "Yes, please, stand wherever you like." She lifts her fingers from the mug in something of a diminutive wave at the room in general, though perhaps the hot ceramic is just too much for her skin. Her frequent glance toward A'son now finds him making a rather ridiculous face and even if ridiculous is something she might expect, this particular display does make her eyes widen and she looks at Carmen with a new touch of wariness.
N'thei may be in public, but he's also at a quiet table with someone accustomed to his more brusque terminology. "F--- Crom." The usual. He shoves a bite of eggs and toast into his mouth while his eyes follow the pointing toward Griere with a contained chuckle of sympathy. "Satiet's prettier. --I told Shanlee we ought to lay siege to the place and solve this months ago. She reacted in a very Shanlee way."
You whisper "Your would-be girlfriend coming up on the right, mate. Fully-clothed at least." to A'son.
A'son continues to stare in the direction of Carmen and Griere, only occasionally glancing to N'thei. "You're delusional." He says, responding to the comment on 'who's prettier'. "Which was what? To attack you physically or to lament on about the rights and wrongs about laying siege on a hold that has "innocent" people in it?" His whispered words earn a furrowing of his 'brows and now he's looking around. He scans the crowd for Milani, catches sight but then loses sight again as she gets onto line.
Milani finally makes it through the line and emerges with a very loaded plate. She looks around and then makes a decision, chin lifted, she marches right up to those Weyrleaders and props a hip up against their table. "Good morning, boys," she sing-songs gaily and positively /beams/ at them both. "Happily back together again, are we?" With customary cheek and she nods to a chair. "Mind if I eat with the two of you?"
Noting the new wariness in Griere's gaze, Carmen glances over towards A'son and has to bite her tongue hard to keep from laughing outright at his display. "Goodness he looks so nervous," she remarks lightly to the woman next to her before taking a sip of her klah. "Like he's afraid I might be over here spilling his deepest, darkest secrets." She waits until his gaze settles on them again before offering him an overly cheerful smile.
"Possibly delusional. Can't be helped." For a moment, N'thei lets his eyes attach to Satiet's profile with a look he'd slap himself for wearing, so stupidly smitten, then it snaps back to A'son with a challenge. "What's your excuse?" He gets another bite in before it's time to chuckle his good guess. "The innocent part. --Good morning, my honey. By all means, join us. We're discussing who's prettier, Griere or Satiet. Who do you think?" All smiles.
Derindrel weaves through the growing throng, eyes slinking back and forth and gathering information before finally finding what he's looking for. A wayward tambourine, having just finished tea, is dragged over to the group of harpers. On a three count, the group starts into a brisk opening number, flute and harp and drum and string together as one ringing in the birth of new dragons, and a new day.
Plate slid over, Milani drops into a seat next to A'son and focuses her beam on N'thei. "Why thank you, dearest darling," she teases N'thei broadly and folds her arms atop the table, peering over at Griere then Satiet. "They could almost be twins," she opines after a moment. "Satiet's got better clothes. Griere's got better features overall, but Satiet's got the ... I dunno, something about the way she moves or holds her head." Thoughtful, blunt, to the point and Millie picks up her fork and digs into her breakfast.
That Carmen's reaction is some sort of laugh has Griere levelling her with a cool look. Her tea will have to wait a moment longer. "Are you a friend of his?" she wonders rather flatly, though not at all bothering to disguise the skepticism that goes with it. It is probably to everyone's fortune that she is oblivious to the discussion happening a few tables away, though perhaps not so oblivious to the glances.
"Milani!" A'son says happily when she finally makes her rounds near her. He digs his fork into his plate. The girl is a new distraction, her and N'thei are making it hard for him to keep an eye on Griere and Carmen. He does however, catch the look that is being leveled at the Bitran girl. "Excuse me. Possible maiming? Maybe." He politely dabs at his lips with a napkin before getting to his feet and crossing the distance with quick strides. "Griere, is it time to mingle yet? You haven't met my mother." The lift of his eyebrows are suggestive and he lifts his chin, jutting it in a direction towards the crowds.
Calliosae drifts over towards the other harpers with her plate of food and her juice. She nibbles at bits here and there, watching Derindrel as he plays but she makes no movement to join in. A sip from her juice and she enjoys the music with a pleasant smile.
N'thei lowers his forehead in gratitude at Milani's answer, on the tip of his tongue thank her for her unbiased opinion when A'son cuts-and-runs. "I don't think he appreciated your unbiased opinion." He's clearly thinking about something entirely other than A'son, Griere, Satiet, and even Milani while he chews an oversized mouthful, even while he suggests around that bite, "Eat, Millie, and we'll have a dance."
Oh good, Fayre was right--they are similar. This is a tune Carmen can dance to. Arching one brow she looks from Weyrwoman to Weyrleader and back again, skepticism written plainly in her smile--smug and aloof. "No, not really. He rather can't stand me, to be honest." She sips again from her mug. "Oh look, here he comes now, about to sweep you away lest I poison you against him," she remarks rather blandly, though her expression remains cool. "Your mother, weyrleader?" she inquires upon his arrival. "How pleasant," she smiles slightly, almost like the smile one would give a child or an especially thick drudge. "I shall look forward to finding out what began your deplorable lack of manners." It's said just as emotionlessly as if she were discussing the weather, if a touch more smug. Contented in having said her piece, she goes back to sipping her klah and observing the goings-on.
Milani has a sweet smile for A'son as she lifts up that first forkful of food. "Hi Ays," she says just as happily back then she's looking back over Grierewards and her brows lift upwards. "Maiming? Seriously?" And she watches with interest as the Istan Weyrleader steps over to intervene. Her food gets distracted attention, meaning she's eating it but not really focusing on what's going into her mouth. N'thei's suggestion snaps her attention back to him though. "Sure!" she agrees readily but her eyes linger on the Reachian Weyrleader's face. "So Weyrleader mine, why the long face?" she asks after a moment in a softer voice. "And ... my opinion's my opinion, take it or leave it," she muses thoughtfully and shrugs. More food. Food good.
To those that know him, it's no surprise that Laukori is bright-eyed and bushytailed at such a terrible hour. Then again, it's later where the young man comes from. He cheerily waited in line long enough to get Klah and food, and now stands off to the side of it all, watching those gathered with bright eyes. His Klah is sipped slowly as he examines the crowd, offering smiles to any who dare look his way. Somebody skewer him! It might be contagious.
"Only face I've got, darling." N'thei dredges up a murky smile, the look made all the more blighted by the fact that he's yet to find time to shave. "Glad to be rid of your candidates, foist them off on I'daur?" Chatter is not really his forte, and he fills in the gaps by eating hugely.
"That, sir, is an out and out lie," Milani says baldly and she screws up her face in mimicry of what she's seen of his pissy face. "There's this one," and then she changes to something more blank-like, "and this one," and then something like dangerous fierce glee, "and this one." At least those three. Another bite taken, chewed, swallowed. "I'm glad for them if they're happy that they get to be weyrlings now, the ones that are moving on, but some of them are staying in my care sort of, because they're staying and getting hired for jobs by Hayda. But yeah, it'll be good to sort of get things back to normalish." Beat. "And to have enough coal this winter."
And the one where N'thei laughs, where he tries to catch a bite of egg trying to get out of his mouth before making a totally gross spectacle of himself. "You ever tried poker?" Laughter is short-lived, replaced by talk of coal and a the necessity for toast. He chews his way through a whole slice while his eyes rest flatly on Milani, not too far from her blank-look impression, then; "Yes. Won't it."
It is not quite a relieved look that shows itself on Griere's face when A'son approaches, more mildly curious than anything. But she smiles rather graciously at his offer. "Your mother," she nods, and is stepping toward A'son to follow him off when Carmen says her piece. And then the girl gets a cocked brow from the slight woman and "Fancy you knowing a thing about manners," said with marked sweetness. She turns away with a lift of her chin and her attention firmly on the weyrleader. "Does she live here at the Weyr or has she come for the hatching?" she inquires to A'son of his mother.
"Your family still isn't welcome to sell wine to the Sandbar. I still haven't gotten any apology from you. Have a lovely night." A'son smiles brightly at her and goes to offer Griere his arm. "I think you'll like my mother, she's a cheerful woman. She likes to cook. A very nice lady and a better person than me." A look is directed at Carmen. "And much better than some others, I would assume." He inclines his head towards the kitchens. "She lives here, she's helping get the food together for later. I'm sure she'll tell you all sorts of hilarious stories about me." He grins, casts Carmen another look and then will lead Griere off and into the kitchens if he can.
"A little. My brothers taught me," Milani explains airily. "But I get too excited and can't hold the poker face. Though maybe if I /practice/ ..." she trails off with a gleaming grin. His flat look is met with a steady one as her grin fades. "Very much so. Go you." And she's putting egg in her mouth too.
N'thei rubs his hand across the back of his head, fingers up to scratch at the base of his skull while his eyes squinch close a minute. "It's a hatching feast. I don't want to talk about Crom or coal. I want to eat, and get drunk, and dance with pretty girls." So saying, he stands up smartly from his chair and lays his palm openly to Milani, twitches his head toward an open space where a few people are trying hard to forget that it's eight in the morning.
Niena wanders in from the tunnel to the bowl.
Niena has arrived.
The musicians seem content to keep the music in a vigorous, waking-up tune, bringing the melody in gay circles as they wait for the new Weyrlings to join them. At the first sight of one, the music immediately picks up into a triumphant note, brass section joining in and announcing victory for Pern.
Milani has a mouthful of egg when N'thei stands and she munches away rapidly to get her mouth clear, hand grabbing for her klah mug too to wash the lot down. "No problem. That'd just be a 'thank you' and consider it forgotten," she says rapidly though her neck cranes in the direction the Istans went. A second later her fingers are landing lightly atop N'thei's and she's letting him steer them both into that open space. Eight or not.
Returning Griere's marked sweetness and A'son's barely veiled insults with a chilly smile, Carmen drops into a light curtsey as the pair turn to leave. Once both are out of her line of sight, she tips back her mug of klah and drinks it all down in one go, seemingly heedless of the scalding temperatures. She clears her throat once before setting the mug on a nearby table and moving among the crowd looking for a suitable dance partner.
Niena might not hear the music for all of her attention -- she's making a beeline for the food. She piles a plate high with a little bit of everything, then pours herself a mugful of klah before sitting in an open seat.
To her neck-craning, N'thei comments, "It's not polite to gawk at them, honey. Best leave it alone." She's tall, he's tall, they're well-matched to find the steps of the buoyant music that picks up every time a weyrling walks in. "Your boy, the pretty lad with all the fancy clothes. Brown, was it?" In the middle of bring Milani about for a spin.
Guiltily, Milani flushes a little. "Right." And she fixes her eyes where they're supposed to be, namely on the Weyrleader in front of her rather than the one who's wandered off into the kitchen. "I have been anyway. Except for writing." A sage nod and somewhere in the last half turn, Millie learned something like grace so, well-matched it is. "Aleudre. E'dre now I guess. Nice easy name on his brown too, Wroth. Not a mouthful at all. And Lou - L'vae on brown too. Lots of browns weren't there? And Vivy had that pretty green." She makes light chat about the Impressions, face animated with happiness for former charges and friends. Spin, spin and hands back to N'thei's shoulder and hand.
Laukori's right foot taps in time with the music, expression amused as he watches the new Weyrlings emerge. It appears that one of them is a friend of his, at least, for he strikes up a conversation with the Weyrling as soon as he enters, gesticulating wildly as he joins the lad in the quest for food.
Calliosae watches the harpers, frowning slightly as she turns her gaze towards Deri. She sips at her juice once more and turns her attention to those dancing and enjoying the festivities before she quietly picks at her food. Her legs neatly cross and she remains in her seat.
"Except for writing." Wise N'thei raises a shrug beneath the hand on his shoulder, disappointment evident while he takes the ignores the more complicated steps for a less-fumbling version of them. He goes along with whatever she's chattering about the Impressions, but his tone is more you-don't-say than truly riveted. "You ought to stand next time. Your mum was saying how you're of the right age."
Niena shovels down the food as if she's the one who had never eaten in her life. Almost like magic, as soon as she finishes eating she's suddenly nodding off. With a stifled yawn she gets up, places her dishes in the bin, scarfs her klah, and heads out. She manages polite "ma'am"s and "sir"s where appropriate, and actually smiles at Calliosae.
Niena meanders outside to the bowl.
Niena has left.
Lujayn wanders in from the tunnel to the bowl.
Lujayn has arrived.
L'vae walks in from the tunnel to the bowl.
L'vae has arrived.
Fraya walks in from the tunnel to the bowl.
Fraya has arrived.
"I write," Milani tacks on, like that wasn't implied in what she'd said already. She adjusts to the lack of fancy footwork with a little grin then blinks at the Weyrleader. "Uhh, no thanks. I don't want to be a dragonrider," she answers promptly. "I like what I do do." Beat. "If there's any job I'd be after, it's Hayda's," she continues a little bit more quietly. "But you know, not right /now/."
Now that Rhadruth has fallen asleep, out comes Fray. Sleepy and mute-struck Fray. The girl wanders in absolute silence, a small yawn and she drifts towards the tables to gather food for herself. She attempts to pile a meal for two onto one plate, once doing so she finds a table that is somewhat empty and quietly nibbles on whatever she's gathered. Sleepy-eyed she glances around before looking to her plate again and her attention stays there.
N'thei and Milani, dancing. Were dancing, right up until Satiet approached the edge of their duo and had the bronzerider gradually slide the steps to a halt; "Probably not wise to just proclaim you're after someone's knot-- or make it sound like being a dragonrider's such a bad thing at a hatching feast. Tact's not really your forte, is it?" Before there's time for Satiet to follow his comment with the necessary pot-kettle-black remark, he looses Milani's hand from his and offers it to the Weyrwoman, who surely finds time for an appropriate quip to the girl; probably at N'thei's expense.
Laukori claps his Weyrling-friend hard on the back, laughing happily. "Right you are," The young man chuckles, waving the boy off to go collapse near Fray, wearing nearly the same expression. Most of the other guests have by now be assaulted with that bright, cheerful smile -- Calliosae is the latest victim. "Y'should get up and dance!" He exclaims to the Harper lass, laughing. But his attention wanders as somebody enters, and he winks at the girl, melting back into the crowd.
"Well okay, not like, after, after, but that's the kind of job I'd be interested in doing." Milani snorts a little at the comment on tact. "I'm not making it sound that way. I'm just pretty well aware of what I do and don't want or what I'm good at. I'm good with numbers. I'm good at my job. Why mess with it?" Another shrug and then there's Satiet and Milani bobs politely and gets out of the way with a rapidfire: "Congratulations ma'am, sir." Then she's backing away to her abandoned breakfast and craning her neck every now and then for signs of the Istan contingent.
Lujayn trails in with a few other weyrlings, presentable in a clean skirt and shirt, but her hair is still in its unkempt braid and fast becoming uncoiled. She smiles vaguely around the living cavern before homing in on the food, looking a bit dazed. Maybe breakfast will put some spring in her step.
A few more hands get a shake on the way out, N'thei and Satiet doing their best to get to the bowl without being delayed too much. While weyrlings trail in, weyrleaders trail out.
You meander outside to the bowl.
IC Date: 8/31/15 --Immediately after the hatching.
You wander through the archway, into the living cavern.
The spread in the caverns is impressive given it's barely seven o'clock in the morning. The serving tables are laden with dishes of eggs, sausages, fried tubers, toast, fresh fruit, tempting little pastries, muffins, klah, klah, klah, and a little more klah. Those who left early enough are already scattered at tables, eating and yawning and discussing the highlights.
N'thei and Satiet. Don't they look just so fine entering together, hard to even tell if they're bickering under forced smiles. The Weyrleader leaves her at the entrance to shake hands while he does the same with those who haven't made a vtol-line for the breakfast. Clearly, they'd both rather duck the obligation.
A'son strides into the cavern from the lower caverns.
Standing by said impressive serving table is a rather unimpressive Healer. With a dark scowl on her face, Iesia is considering the options, though neither seems to impress her much. "M. Klah." Klah is taken, cradled and sipped at eagerly.
Finally semi-awake, Carmen and her father enter the Living Caverns together, apparently chatting amicably about the hatching--but reality's often different from appearances. Jatkan makes some motion to his daughter and then heading off to get in line for food.
A'son walks into the living caverns, but doesn't throw himself all the way into the crowds. Instead he hangs back, seeming more interested in watching than mingling. Or is he looking for something? The former Reaches bronzerider does indeed have the look of someone who is searching. When he doesn't find what he's looking for right away, he pushes forward moving through the people and towards the breakfast.
N'thei detaches himself from a handshake that's been going on for just short of forever, says something to the exuberant parent that doesn't sound quite like a compliment and leaves the man frowning. All in a few quick steps, ones that are just intent enough that he can avoid further entanglement, he passes the drab healer with a hi-how-are-you smile. "I can't believe you had the brass to show up here." Guess which bronzeriding traitor he's talking to!
As holding up the line is never a good thing, Iesia finally makes a selection, adding a bit of sausage and toast to her plate before retreating to a nearby seat. Her klah is nursed first, however, and her plate just kind of acts as table decoration while she sips.
"I was born here, I get to visit whenever I want." A'son replies, not skipping a beat when he turns around to face his clutchmate. He hasn't made it to the food yet, and for that he seems almost mournful. The bronzeriding traitor is suffering from some pretty nasty looking sunburn, and he has salve on his skin so he looks all types of slimey from it. "Does this mean you're not missing me while I'm gone?"
"Define 'miss.'" N'thei surveys A'son like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or getting ready to drop the other shoe himself, whichever. "You like like--" A word better kept quiet rather than blurted out in the middle of a crowd of visitors. "Let's eat." His head hitches toward the food, line-of-sight grazed across the healer's plate with something like envy.
Moving through the crowds, Carmen suddenly finds herself almost running over the Istan Weyrleader. Turning so she isn't facing him, but N'thei, she offers a polite smile and an elegant curtsey. "Splendid Hatching, Weyrleader. You must be very proud." A tiny green flitter wrapped around her shoulder peers up at the unfamiliar riders, crooning softly in childish inquiry.
Calliosae strides in from the tunnel to the bowl.
Calliosae has arrived.
"Miss, to... long for someone's company. Who do you abuse now that I'm not around? Does B'yan really fill that void?" A'son asks, amusement tugging at his lips. Eyes quickly moving to the food, he agrees. "Yeah, lets eat. I'm starving. Figures you'd have eggs that want to hatch at the crack of dawn." Carmen maybe tried to turn away, but A'son still sees her. There's a frown forming, but he dashes it away by not looking at her. What you see doesn't exist!
N'thei looks down at Carmen, across the dark hair and pouty lips and there's no point pretending the things he's thinking aren't written all over his face and not fit for mixed company. Instead; "Must I." He ignores the firelizard outright. "Don't talk about B'yan to me. I've avoided flying to Ista and beating the crap out of you, I'd rather not do it at a hatching feast." He does reach to give A'son a shove toward the food, move faster.
"Well I certainly understand where you get your charm from," Carmen quips at A'son before turning towards food as well. Unfortunately that puts her right behind the two bronzeriders. With a long-suffering sigh, she tries to tune them out and instead scans the crowds for familiar, more congenial faces.
Calliosae wanders into the living caverns quietly, her fingers laced in front of her as she walks. She holds in that small yawn that threatens to escape before she lifts one hand to rub at her eyes. A glance around the area and she trails towards the food, quietly humming to herself.
And here come the harpers! Littering in one by one with the crowd, marked by the instruments they carry, they filter into a corner of the Living Cavern that offers the most view and acoustic favorability. They seem to be missing a few components, as a journeyman stands among them looking around fretfully. Finally a tall boy with a scar breaks from the group, searching amongst those gathered, those in line...
Laukori strides into the cavern from the lower caverns.
Laukori has arrived.
What? A'son is still not looking at Carmen and still pretending he can't hear her either. "Why, isn't he one of your Wingleader's, thought you'd like 'em a little bit." He pushes, smirking a touch. He laughs when the other rider pushes him. "And, so what stopped you? I could have used the company. The Istans are insane. One of my Wingleaders is like Shanlee if she had an addiction to fellis and couldn't get a fix."
Milani wanders into the cavern from the lower caverns.
Milani has arrived.
"I had my hands full here." N'thei suits action to words and takes a plate, somehow circumventing most of the line-- Weyrleaders' privilege, since there are two of them? "While you're off basking in the sun." He has to stop and give A'son's sunburn a serves-you-right smirk. "We're dealing with actual problems, remember? --Not that I'd trade you. I met Griere once; I prefer Satiet." That's high praise too. "Is she talking to us?" He lowers his voice to ask that, twitches his chin toward Carmen.
Food. About 7:30 in the morning, every kind of breakfast treaty one could hope to find, a slow-moving line of groggy people piling up their plates. It's kind of like a party but with a lot more yawning and demands for klah.
A'son lowers his voice to a near inaudible hiss. "Probably. I told her she couldn't sell wine at Ista anymore the other day. Big mouth." He clears his throat and then begins to fill his plate. "I'm hardly off basking in the sun. I'm not used to the sun at all. I thought I was going to die of heat exhaustion the first week." At N'thei's one comment, his almost happy attitude falters, an odd one replacing it momentarily. "I wouldn't trade Griere for Satiet."
Despite the hour, Griere is bright eyed and well-coifed and all of that. And she is, rather patiently, in the line for tea. Patient aside from the little tap of her fingers against the top clasp of her flight jacket - a jacket all buttoned up even if it is summer, or summer by local standards at least.
Milani has been helping with set up for the last little while, since the last dragons were shelled and she snuck out. She's found a moment to change too into something more festive than the pajamas she had on when she roused the Candidates from bed with. A platter is set down, the cover on a pitcher adjusted and then she turns to observe the cavern, arms folded across chest, blowing out a long, relieved sigh.
"I'm 'rude', /Weyrleader/," Carmen begins. "Not deaf." Fed up with both of them, she changes course and hits the line for tea. Perhaps she'll find better company there.
N'thei mumbles audibly, "Big something-else too." One last sideways look at Carmen while she's huffing off. He's just about to overflow his plate when something about the shift in A'son's attitude arrests him throwing more toast on the pile; "What's that about, mate? You wouldn't trade her?" He even goes to the trouble of looking squarely at his pseudo-friend.
A'son glances finally towards Carmen as she huffs off. "Perhaps she'd be interested in spending time with you." He comments in dry tones, lifting an eyebrow. He finishes topping off the plate. He shoots a look towards N'thei, and then another one around the room. It of course finds Griere over there, waiting. "No, I wouldn't." Simple, honest. "Lets find a place to sit and eat, unharassed?"
Perhaps she has been keeping tabs on A'son all the while, but Griere's idle glance around the room finds her weyrleader easily. If she's eavesdropping at all, that hearing is likely distracted as she now steps up to collect her mug of tea--just tea this morning, none of the other fair--before moving away from the crowded lines and out to a less busy spot. She takes a moment to stand and blow across the top of her mug, but her eyes find A'son again, keen as she watches him attempt to move off with N'thei.
Accepting a mug of hot klah from the serving table, Carmen shoots a venomous glare in A'son and N'thei's direction before following the woman in front of her to a table. As the woman turns, Carmen sees her knot and stops, remembering something Fayre told her. "Mind if I join you?" she asks the weyrwoman politely, dropping into as much of a curtsey as she can with a full mug of klah.
N'thei's lucky; he and Satiet have a tacit agreement not to go near each other most of the time, and her end right now involves being on the other side of the room, making small talk. "You're not-- let's sit, you're right." Conveniently, a few people are only too happy let a pair of Weyrleaders have their seats, but not without first saying something about the hatching, the food, congratulations to A'son on his recent victory, the usual.
A'son nods to all of it, looking uncomfortable at all the points that he would normally look uncomfortable at. Especially when an old uncle comes by, claps his shoulder and makes a fairly odd remark. He narrows his eyes, lifts a 'brow and glances at N'thei. "Uh huh. Good to know they don't change, I guess." He's just about getting ready to dig into his meal when he sees Carmen zeroing in on Griere. The fork isn't all the way into his mouth and groan. If someone could give someone else a look of warning with the suddening widening of their eyes and "subtle" finger-pointing, that would be a good example of what A'son is doing right now. Looking bug-eyed and finger-pointy. "So... I heard about Crom."
Milani's gaze catches on two particular riders. Two Weyrleaders and a quick beaming smile flashes across her face. The girl starts forward then comes to a halt and she schools her features, then turns back to the tables, this time to join the lines for food. Still her head swivels over every few minutes to keep track.
Griere blinks at Carmen over the rim of her mug and she lets that blank look hang in silence for a beat. "Join me in standing?" she asks as if perhaps she didn't hear the question right. "Yes, please, stand wherever you like." She lifts her fingers from the mug in something of a diminutive wave at the room in general, though perhaps the hot ceramic is just too much for her skin. Her frequent glance toward A'son now finds him making a rather ridiculous face and even if ridiculous is something she might expect, this particular display does make her eyes widen and she looks at Carmen with a new touch of wariness.
N'thei may be in public, but he's also at a quiet table with someone accustomed to his more brusque terminology. "F--- Crom." The usual. He shoves a bite of eggs and toast into his mouth while his eyes follow the pointing toward Griere with a contained chuckle of sympathy. "Satiet's prettier. --I told Shanlee we ought to lay siege to the place and solve this months ago. She reacted in a very Shanlee way."
You whisper "Your would-be girlfriend coming up on the right, mate. Fully-clothed at least." to A'son.
A'son continues to stare in the direction of Carmen and Griere, only occasionally glancing to N'thei. "You're delusional." He says, responding to the comment on 'who's prettier'. "Which was what? To attack you physically or to lament on about the rights and wrongs about laying siege on a hold that has "innocent" people in it?" His whispered words earn a furrowing of his 'brows and now he's looking around. He scans the crowd for Milani, catches sight but then loses sight again as she gets onto line.
Milani finally makes it through the line and emerges with a very loaded plate. She looks around and then makes a decision, chin lifted, she marches right up to those Weyrleaders and props a hip up against their table. "Good morning, boys," she sing-songs gaily and positively /beams/ at them both. "Happily back together again, are we?" With customary cheek and she nods to a chair. "Mind if I eat with the two of you?"
Noting the new wariness in Griere's gaze, Carmen glances over towards A'son and has to bite her tongue hard to keep from laughing outright at his display. "Goodness he looks so nervous," she remarks lightly to the woman next to her before taking a sip of her klah. "Like he's afraid I might be over here spilling his deepest, darkest secrets." She waits until his gaze settles on them again before offering him an overly cheerful smile.
"Possibly delusional. Can't be helped." For a moment, N'thei lets his eyes attach to Satiet's profile with a look he'd slap himself for wearing, so stupidly smitten, then it snaps back to A'son with a challenge. "What's your excuse?" He gets another bite in before it's time to chuckle his good guess. "The innocent part. --Good morning, my honey. By all means, join us. We're discussing who's prettier, Griere or Satiet. Who do you think?" All smiles.
Derindrel weaves through the growing throng, eyes slinking back and forth and gathering information before finally finding what he's looking for. A wayward tambourine, having just finished tea, is dragged over to the group of harpers. On a three count, the group starts into a brisk opening number, flute and harp and drum and string together as one ringing in the birth of new dragons, and a new day.
Plate slid over, Milani drops into a seat next to A'son and focuses her beam on N'thei. "Why thank you, dearest darling," she teases N'thei broadly and folds her arms atop the table, peering over at Griere then Satiet. "They could almost be twins," she opines after a moment. "Satiet's got better clothes. Griere's got better features overall, but Satiet's got the ... I dunno, something about the way she moves or holds her head." Thoughtful, blunt, to the point and Millie picks up her fork and digs into her breakfast.
That Carmen's reaction is some sort of laugh has Griere levelling her with a cool look. Her tea will have to wait a moment longer. "Are you a friend of his?" she wonders rather flatly, though not at all bothering to disguise the skepticism that goes with it. It is probably to everyone's fortune that she is oblivious to the discussion happening a few tables away, though perhaps not so oblivious to the glances.
"Milani!" A'son says happily when she finally makes her rounds near her. He digs his fork into his plate. The girl is a new distraction, her and N'thei are making it hard for him to keep an eye on Griere and Carmen. He does however, catch the look that is being leveled at the Bitran girl. "Excuse me. Possible maiming? Maybe." He politely dabs at his lips with a napkin before getting to his feet and crossing the distance with quick strides. "Griere, is it time to mingle yet? You haven't met my mother." The lift of his eyebrows are suggestive and he lifts his chin, jutting it in a direction towards the crowds.
Calliosae drifts over towards the other harpers with her plate of food and her juice. She nibbles at bits here and there, watching Derindrel as he plays but she makes no movement to join in. A sip from her juice and she enjoys the music with a pleasant smile.
N'thei lowers his forehead in gratitude at Milani's answer, on the tip of his tongue thank her for her unbiased opinion when A'son cuts-and-runs. "I don't think he appreciated your unbiased opinion." He's clearly thinking about something entirely other than A'son, Griere, Satiet, and even Milani while he chews an oversized mouthful, even while he suggests around that bite, "Eat, Millie, and we'll have a dance."
Oh good, Fayre was right--they are similar. This is a tune Carmen can dance to. Arching one brow she looks from Weyrwoman to Weyrleader and back again, skepticism written plainly in her smile--smug and aloof. "No, not really. He rather can't stand me, to be honest." She sips again from her mug. "Oh look, here he comes now, about to sweep you away lest I poison you against him," she remarks rather blandly, though her expression remains cool. "Your mother, weyrleader?" she inquires upon his arrival. "How pleasant," she smiles slightly, almost like the smile one would give a child or an especially thick drudge. "I shall look forward to finding out what began your deplorable lack of manners." It's said just as emotionlessly as if she were discussing the weather, if a touch more smug. Contented in having said her piece, she goes back to sipping her klah and observing the goings-on.
Milani has a sweet smile for A'son as she lifts up that first forkful of food. "Hi Ays," she says just as happily back then she's looking back over Grierewards and her brows lift upwards. "Maiming? Seriously?" And she watches with interest as the Istan Weyrleader steps over to intervene. Her food gets distracted attention, meaning she's eating it but not really focusing on what's going into her mouth. N'thei's suggestion snaps her attention back to him though. "Sure!" she agrees readily but her eyes linger on the Reachian Weyrleader's face. "So Weyrleader mine, why the long face?" she asks after a moment in a softer voice. "And ... my opinion's my opinion, take it or leave it," she muses thoughtfully and shrugs. More food. Food good.
To those that know him, it's no surprise that Laukori is bright-eyed and bushytailed at such a terrible hour. Then again, it's later where the young man comes from. He cheerily waited in line long enough to get Klah and food, and now stands off to the side of it all, watching those gathered with bright eyes. His Klah is sipped slowly as he examines the crowd, offering smiles to any who dare look his way. Somebody skewer him! It might be contagious.
"Only face I've got, darling." N'thei dredges up a murky smile, the look made all the more blighted by the fact that he's yet to find time to shave. "Glad to be rid of your candidates, foist them off on I'daur?" Chatter is not really his forte, and he fills in the gaps by eating hugely.
"That, sir, is an out and out lie," Milani says baldly and she screws up her face in mimicry of what she's seen of his pissy face. "There's this one," and then she changes to something more blank-like, "and this one," and then something like dangerous fierce glee, "and this one." At least those three. Another bite taken, chewed, swallowed. "I'm glad for them if they're happy that they get to be weyrlings now, the ones that are moving on, but some of them are staying in my care sort of, because they're staying and getting hired for jobs by Hayda. But yeah, it'll be good to sort of get things back to normalish." Beat. "And to have enough coal this winter."
And the one where N'thei laughs, where he tries to catch a bite of egg trying to get out of his mouth before making a totally gross spectacle of himself. "You ever tried poker?" Laughter is short-lived, replaced by talk of coal and a the necessity for toast. He chews his way through a whole slice while his eyes rest flatly on Milani, not too far from her blank-look impression, then; "Yes. Won't it."
It is not quite a relieved look that shows itself on Griere's face when A'son approaches, more mildly curious than anything. But she smiles rather graciously at his offer. "Your mother," she nods, and is stepping toward A'son to follow him off when Carmen says her piece. And then the girl gets a cocked brow from the slight woman and "Fancy you knowing a thing about manners," said with marked sweetness. She turns away with a lift of her chin and her attention firmly on the weyrleader. "Does she live here at the Weyr or has she come for the hatching?" she inquires to A'son of his mother.
"Your family still isn't welcome to sell wine to the Sandbar. I still haven't gotten any apology from you. Have a lovely night." A'son smiles brightly at her and goes to offer Griere his arm. "I think you'll like my mother, she's a cheerful woman. She likes to cook. A very nice lady and a better person than me." A look is directed at Carmen. "And much better than some others, I would assume." He inclines his head towards the kitchens. "She lives here, she's helping get the food together for later. I'm sure she'll tell you all sorts of hilarious stories about me." He grins, casts Carmen another look and then will lead Griere off and into the kitchens if he can.
"A little. My brothers taught me," Milani explains airily. "But I get too excited and can't hold the poker face. Though maybe if I /practice/ ..." she trails off with a gleaming grin. His flat look is met with a steady one as her grin fades. "Very much so. Go you." And she's putting egg in her mouth too.
N'thei rubs his hand across the back of his head, fingers up to scratch at the base of his skull while his eyes squinch close a minute. "It's a hatching feast. I don't want to talk about Crom or coal. I want to eat, and get drunk, and dance with pretty girls." So saying, he stands up smartly from his chair and lays his palm openly to Milani, twitches his head toward an open space where a few people are trying hard to forget that it's eight in the morning.
Niena wanders in from the tunnel to the bowl.
Niena has arrived.
The musicians seem content to keep the music in a vigorous, waking-up tune, bringing the melody in gay circles as they wait for the new Weyrlings to join them. At the first sight of one, the music immediately picks up into a triumphant note, brass section joining in and announcing victory for Pern.
Milani has a mouthful of egg when N'thei stands and she munches away rapidly to get her mouth clear, hand grabbing for her klah mug too to wash the lot down. "No problem. That'd just be a 'thank you' and consider it forgotten," she says rapidly though her neck cranes in the direction the Istans went. A second later her fingers are landing lightly atop N'thei's and she's letting him steer them both into that open space. Eight or not.
Returning Griere's marked sweetness and A'son's barely veiled insults with a chilly smile, Carmen drops into a light curtsey as the pair turn to leave. Once both are out of her line of sight, she tips back her mug of klah and drinks it all down in one go, seemingly heedless of the scalding temperatures. She clears her throat once before setting the mug on a nearby table and moving among the crowd looking for a suitable dance partner.
Niena might not hear the music for all of her attention -- she's making a beeline for the food. She piles a plate high with a little bit of everything, then pours herself a mugful of klah before sitting in an open seat.
To her neck-craning, N'thei comments, "It's not polite to gawk at them, honey. Best leave it alone." She's tall, he's tall, they're well-matched to find the steps of the buoyant music that picks up every time a weyrling walks in. "Your boy, the pretty lad with all the fancy clothes. Brown, was it?" In the middle of bring Milani about for a spin.
Guiltily, Milani flushes a little. "Right." And she fixes her eyes where they're supposed to be, namely on the Weyrleader in front of her rather than the one who's wandered off into the kitchen. "I have been anyway. Except for writing." A sage nod and somewhere in the last half turn, Millie learned something like grace so, well-matched it is. "Aleudre. E'dre now I guess. Nice easy name on his brown too, Wroth. Not a mouthful at all. And Lou - L'vae on brown too. Lots of browns weren't there? And Vivy had that pretty green." She makes light chat about the Impressions, face animated with happiness for former charges and friends. Spin, spin and hands back to N'thei's shoulder and hand.
Laukori's right foot taps in time with the music, expression amused as he watches the new Weyrlings emerge. It appears that one of them is a friend of his, at least, for he strikes up a conversation with the Weyrling as soon as he enters, gesticulating wildly as he joins the lad in the quest for food.
Calliosae watches the harpers, frowning slightly as she turns her gaze towards Deri. She sips at her juice once more and turns her attention to those dancing and enjoying the festivities before she quietly picks at her food. Her legs neatly cross and she remains in her seat.
"Except for writing." Wise N'thei raises a shrug beneath the hand on his shoulder, disappointment evident while he takes the ignores the more complicated steps for a less-fumbling version of them. He goes along with whatever she's chattering about the Impressions, but his tone is more you-don't-say than truly riveted. "You ought to stand next time. Your mum was saying how you're of the right age."
Niena shovels down the food as if she's the one who had never eaten in her life. Almost like magic, as soon as she finishes eating she's suddenly nodding off. With a stifled yawn she gets up, places her dishes in the bin, scarfs her klah, and heads out. She manages polite "ma'am"s and "sir"s where appropriate, and actually smiles at Calliosae.
Niena meanders outside to the bowl.
Niena has left.
Lujayn wanders in from the tunnel to the bowl.
Lujayn has arrived.
L'vae walks in from the tunnel to the bowl.
L'vae has arrived.
Fraya walks in from the tunnel to the bowl.
Fraya has arrived.
"I write," Milani tacks on, like that wasn't implied in what she'd said already. She adjusts to the lack of fancy footwork with a little grin then blinks at the Weyrleader. "Uhh, no thanks. I don't want to be a dragonrider," she answers promptly. "I like what I do do." Beat. "If there's any job I'd be after, it's Hayda's," she continues a little bit more quietly. "But you know, not right /now/."
Now that Rhadruth has fallen asleep, out comes Fray. Sleepy and mute-struck Fray. The girl wanders in absolute silence, a small yawn and she drifts towards the tables to gather food for herself. She attempts to pile a meal for two onto one plate, once doing so she finds a table that is somewhat empty and quietly nibbles on whatever she's gathered. Sleepy-eyed she glances around before looking to her plate again and her attention stays there.
N'thei and Milani, dancing. Were dancing, right up until Satiet approached the edge of their duo and had the bronzerider gradually slide the steps to a halt; "Probably not wise to just proclaim you're after someone's knot-- or make it sound like being a dragonrider's such a bad thing at a hatching feast. Tact's not really your forte, is it?" Before there's time for Satiet to follow his comment with the necessary pot-kettle-black remark, he looses Milani's hand from his and offers it to the Weyrwoman, who surely finds time for an appropriate quip to the girl; probably at N'thei's expense.
Laukori claps his Weyrling-friend hard on the back, laughing happily. "Right you are," The young man chuckles, waving the boy off to go collapse near Fray, wearing nearly the same expression. Most of the other guests have by now be assaulted with that bright, cheerful smile -- Calliosae is the latest victim. "Y'should get up and dance!" He exclaims to the Harper lass, laughing. But his attention wanders as somebody enters, and he winks at the girl, melting back into the crowd.
"Well okay, not like, after, after, but that's the kind of job I'd be interested in doing." Milani snorts a little at the comment on tact. "I'm not making it sound that way. I'm just pretty well aware of what I do and don't want or what I'm good at. I'm good with numbers. I'm good at my job. Why mess with it?" Another shrug and then there's Satiet and Milani bobs politely and gets out of the way with a rapidfire: "Congratulations ma'am, sir." Then she's backing away to her abandoned breakfast and craning her neck every now and then for signs of the Istan contingent.
Lujayn trails in with a few other weyrlings, presentable in a clean skirt and shirt, but her hair is still in its unkempt braid and fast becoming uncoiled. She smiles vaguely around the living cavern before homing in on the food, looking a bit dazed. Maybe breakfast will put some spring in her step.
A few more hands get a shake on the way out, N'thei and Satiet doing their best to get to the bowl without being delayed too much. While weyrlings trail in, weyrleaders trail out.
You meander outside to the bowl.