Midsummer Gather-- Gambling & denouement.
RL Date: 8/17/08
IC Date: 6/28/17
I took out the "on the dance square" poses, because this log was crazy long anyway. ;) And I hope I tagged everyone. Dang.
Benden Hold
The Hold's cliff rises high above the courtyard, its impassive stone face studded with Threadfall shutters thrown wide, surmounted by the fireheights where the Gather flag snaps in the wind. A symbol of its Lady's public belief in the Interval, the Hold's grand doors are barely ajar for once, the Gather a sprawling and wholly outside affair.
Food and drink are served in the upper court, its central fountain performing double duty as a place to keep ale kegs and wineskins cool, away from the porcine roasting on its spit. While the side nearest the greenhouse is lined with tables bearing platters of simple party food, the side opposite has long trestle tables and benches brought out from the Hold itself, with festive lanterns to light the scene as the sun goes down.
A few steps down in the much larger main courtyard, a regular rotation of harpers entertains the masses from a dais next to the dancing square. The vintners are doing good business at the entrance to their Hall, but the booths of other tradespeople are down the ramp in Crafter Row.
X'lar walks with his water, taking a few sips as he watches the dancing from farther away. Soon, however, he finds himself near Paige again. There's a moment when he opens his mouth to speak to her, but he instead closes his mouth without saying a word. For now, the teenager just watches the pairs dancing on the square instead.
Fayre rises to put her empty plate away somewhere, but before she has the opportunity to do so it's swept away by a polite Benden resident. She smiles her thanks, but now the rider is a loss of what exactly she should...do, now. The music and dancing couples draw her closer to the square, but she doesn't seem willing to brave it alone. So she just watches, tapping her foot along with the beat of the music.
T'rien seems familiar enough with the music - he even hums a few bars of the refrain under his breath as he tries to find his rhythm. "He's a hair over 2 Turns now. Growing like a weed, too. Your daughters? You mentioned some - how old are they?"
Persie's first task once getting off the floor is not, as she said, to seek out certain cheap venders of glassbead jewelry, but to park herself in line at the vintner's stand and get herself a glass of wine. Only once that's done does she wander back over toward the floor, finding herself alongside Fayre watching the dancers. "It's really pretty, isn't it?" she says aside to the Istan over the edge of her glass.
Fayre smiles broadly now that she's got company and nods her agreement. "Aye. Benden sure did a number with the food n'decorations." Her arms cross as she watches the dancers twirl about, her smile remaining on her face. "And everyone looks so nice in their Gather finery. I love how all the colours blend together when they spin. The dancers, I mean." She glances at the wine in Persie's hand, asking, "Any good?"
"The spinning is the best," Persie agrees with Fayre rather emphatically. "I like seeing all the skirts twirling around. Everyone looks so nice and lovely." She runs a hand through her hair to try to look the part of nice and lovely herself, making it all smooth again. "Have you been out to dance yet?" And taking another hasty sip of her wine, she nods. "It's good enough for me. I don't really have one of those... what are they called. Refined platelets." Something like that.
He's really been here this whole time. Honest. Xakael watches the goings on from his chosen vantage, which would be somewhere out of the way for most folks. His thumbs are hooked in his beltloops, mouth pulled just a touch to one side as he watches not the dancers but the other people as they mill about and converse. The Bitran ducks his head thoughtfully for a moment before moving to get something to drink -- water, of course.
By the dancing floor, away from trodding boots and sharp heels, Satiet and T'rien dance bare feet on the grass. "Five. And I only love one of them," replies Satiet, the inflection laid into her quip indicative of a long-standing internal joke. "Their father loves the other one. We figure that makes it fair and equal. Honestly," the slender woman spins out on her own and twirls back with a flare of her blue dress, "If they weren't my children..."
Madilla, arm in arm with R'uen, and Phara on the other side of the bronzerider, looks genuinely relieved as she says, "Much appreciated." Heading in to the gather grounds, she keeps turning her head this way and that to look at the dancing, the feast table, and all the rest. "That looks like a drinks stall there," she points, indicating a busy stall, tankards and wine glasses appearing and disappearing at great haste.
T'rien laughs, managing to keep up the dance without tripping himself up. He's not about to win any dance contests today but he's keeping himself upright, at least. "Jerien's a good boy. I'm lucky to be his father. I might change my mind when he gets older but, for now, his mother is right - I spoil him."
Fayre shakes her head mournfully and her tone changes to that of a drama queen; woeful, with just a pinch of whining. "Alas. No. Seems to be a lack of gentlemen at this Gather. That's the one problem with it, I'd say. Hmph. I brought my friend Suizen with me, an' the plan was to scout out cute guys, 'cause we can't find any good ones back at Ista." She sighs, her shoulders slumping dejectedly. "But I'm not sure where she ran off to, and so far our plan isn't turnin' out like it was supposed to." Persie fixing her hair reminds Fayre that hers could probably use a touch up, too. She adjusts the flower that's placed in her black shiny hair, ensuring it won't fall out even if she does get around to dancing. "Well, the Sandbar back where I'm from is real good. Y'don't even need refined tastebuds to appreciate it."
Phara gives R'uen's arm a gentle squeaze, "That way." She points her free hand towards the drinks stall just as Madilla does, and smirks. "Ah, well then. Onward and upwards! Or is that onward and drunkards?" She muses, and then shrugs, accompanied, of course, by the merry jingle of her necklace.
Paige gives a quiet little hiccup as she cradles the baby firelizards, shoulders trembling for a long moment before she expels a little sigh, gaze peeking over from her slippers to the ground nearby - except, there are shoes over there that belong to people. X'lar, perhaps, being one of them. "Sorry, " she gets out thickly after a moment, clearing her throat a little before adding, "I - I wasn' tryin' t'insult ya, hones', or - or anythin'. Would - love t'dance again, but - " And she breaks off with the smallest of shrugs.
In the upper courtyard, those greenriders finally reappear from the Hold. Somewhere along the way they acquired a second local as escort, the four women chatting away in changing variations of triangle-plus-one every few paces. Rhonda's got an eye for the not-so-square dancing square already, only it's less for the dancers than that drummer who'd soloed earlier. She makes tracks, too, but not before Leova can whisper a teasing comment, and all four laugh.
Off the dance floor, having given a spin to one of those old biddies that perpetually show up at gathers over-dressed and with no escort, N'thei finds a bench on the edge of the square where no one else is sitting. He parks, unbuttons his vest, loosens his collar, and casts his attention idly around the vicinity-- firelizards, barefoot dancers, people fixing their coifs, the clatter of dice in a cup, hmmmmmn.
"Drunkards, drunkwards, something like that," R'uen laughs. Sandwiched between two girls, laughing seems about right. He steers his set of ladies toward the drink stall before releasing their arms. "I'll get the first round," gentlemanly as Phara requested. "What are you drinking?"
Niena notices Rhonda and Leova and puts down her wineglass so she can wave to the greenriders. Then she returns to watching the dancers, her expression amused as she hears the evidence of feet being trampled.
"Wow," X'lar offers. "N'thei really bugged you, huh?" He motions toward the dance floor before going on to say, "There ain't anythin' insultin' about you, so I don't think you should be apologizing, Paige." He gives the weyrling a brief, albeit genuine smile. "And we don't have to dance either," Xie remarks, grinning. "Can I get you something to drink though?" X'lar asks the Fortian. As he looks toward where the drinks are, X'lar spots Leova, suddenly making him emit something not unlike a 'oh for Faranth's sake' said very quickly, garbled. The Istan teen quickly returns his attention to Paige, asking her: "So. Drink? Food?"
"Not /too/ drunkwards, I hope," remarks Madilla, though she sounds neither chiding nor concerned, a brilliant smile still present upon her face. Released, she shifts, still watching the dancers, and the rest of the congregated people with great interest. "I've no idea," she adds, at R'uen's offer, ducking her head. "Surprise me? Nothing-- too strong."
Phara considers her options from the drink board. "Something.. tropical." She muses. "Surprise me, eh?" She nods to Madilla. "Quite right. Not too drunkwards. Pleasantly giggly. No falling down on the dance floor."
Xakael takes a swig of water and finds his attention briefly catching on the not-exactly-enthused-seeming young woman just over there -- that attention moves once she's being tended to in some capacity by a friend, or so he presumes. "Hnh." Dancers there, chatters over here. Dice? Enticing, but not what he's here for. A hand digs absently in his pocket for something, finally pulling out a weighty metal 'coin' that's flipped with casual ease while he surveys the people once more.
"No cute guys at Ista. I'll have to remember that," Persie laughs. "I'll cross it off my list of places to meet boys." Her attention is drawn to Fayre's flower by the lift of the goldrider's hand. "Ooh, that's pretty. I should have worn some flowers in my hair. Or put it up, maybe. Next time, I guess. - I've been to the Sandbar, not as often as I'd like but... I like all the fruity things they have there. Or you have there. Or... whatever is the right way to say that." It's a bashful laugh she shares then at her own cumbersome wordings.
"Tha' - /Tha'/ was N'thei?" is the first thing Paige blurts, eyes round. Well, at least she has a face to put with the harper lessons. About to give a negative in the way of drinks, she can't help but notice the other rider's second, quicker prompt. "Okay, " she agrees at last, standing with a tremulous smile. "Guess I could - could use somethin' else t'eat and a lil bit o'drink. Jus' a water, though."
Suizen, makes her way to the gather proper, steps ackward and rather restrained, as she peers this way and that through the crowd, rather bemused to find herself among such a crowd. Catching sight of the dancing square, the young woman immediately turns away from that side of the area, and goes the other way.
"Good," begins Satiet as her hands slide easily to rest lightly on T'rien's shoulder. "Has very little to do with whether I like children or not." She simply doesn't. But there's a smile lurking behind the amusement of her features, bright eyes coupling with that slight curve of her lips. Then, from his shoulders, a hand falls to her hip and she takes a step back. "Thank you for the indulgence, T'rien of Fort."
R'uen gives Phara a look, like she might be completely nuts for the tropical request, a 'what the hell is wrong with you' face, though, you know, with love. "Okay, you are both getting wine." And his thanks for a simple order is in his grin to Madilla before he heads off to collect the glasses, coming back a moment later to dole them out. He lifts his glass, "Cheers, ladies."
T'rien steps back, carefully, and inclines his head toward the Weyrwoman. "My pleasure, Satiet. Thanks for putting up with my son and his...linguistic somersaults. I'm thinking the weyr harpers are going to have their hands full with him."
Like attracts like. People dance, primp themselves, talk smack about Weyrleaders, and throw dice. N'thei gravitates toward the last occupation, moth to the flame, and drags a bench to a cluster of men all hunched over a table. Home sweet home~
"You should listen to her all right," X'lar tells Persie and Fayre. "Just look at me." The apparently not so cute X'lar makes his way to the tables, grabbing a few items of food and another glass of water. Surprisingly enough, the bronzerider doesn't take any food for himself. He makes his way back to Paige, telling her: "Yeah, that's the Weyrleader of High Reaches. He ain't that bad. Good card player. He's not a bad Weyrleader either." The last is spoken with a wry smirk. He offers the food on the plate to her as well as the glass of water. "So you must almost be done with weyrlinghood if Paddy let you all out, huh?" X'lar asks her curiously. Suizen's given a quick wave as he sees her from the corner of his eye.
Fayre smiles politely and pats the orange, freshly blossomed flower. "We don't have many cute folks, but we do have beautiful flowers. I wouldn't be doin' my Weyr justice if I didn't show off its fauna, y'see." Her smile widens into a grin and the rider reaches to pat Persie on the back. "Ah, I always trip over my words. Like...what's the past tense of drink? Would you say someone drunk somethin', or that they drank it? I never know." Her attention is suddenly snatched away by the sight of Suizen and the goldrider wildly waves her arms to try and catch her friend's attention. "Sooooz! I'm over here, Sooz! Come meet my new friend!" Her voice goes up a notch in volume when Suizen turns away from the dance floor. "Ack! SUIZEN!" Fayre makes a face at X'lar as he goes by and she explains, "Hey, you're taken. You don't count. I mean cute /avaliable/ men."
Madilla openly laughs at R'uen's expression as he looks at Phara, grinning back at the bronzerider as he heads off to fill the order. "Giggly, right. That's what we're after, here." Accepting her glass, as R'uen returns, she gives it an interested glance, and bobs her head towards him. "Thank you, for this. And for the company."
Phara gives R'uen a hurt expression, "Wine? Fardles, R'uen, at least could have gotten me ale." But she drinks her wine nonetheless - perhaps with a mournful look of betrayal cast at R'uen every few moments. It doesn't last long, however, neither does the glass. "I've got the next round." She offers cheerfully. "When the lady and the fragile daisy are finished with theirs, of course."
T'rien removes himself from the relative danger of the dance floor, retrieving his boots and squatting on the grass to put them back on. He sits there for a bit, retrieving his mug that he set aside earlier and indulging in a long drink as he engages in a bit of people watching.
"I'm sure he'll be fine," reassures mother to father, a slip of a smile emerging on Satiet's lips. "Thank you for the dance. For the conversation. And for being a nice change for my night. Clear skies." With her dance desires fulfilled and a tankard or three of ale downed tonight, the slight woman, with one last nod for T'rien, disappears into the throng.
This time it's the Benden girls who have jokes to tell, and then a suggestion that gets Leova shrugging, a lift of her shoulder that as easily falls. She waves them onto the floor, and just stands there for some moments, indulging in some people-watching of her own with just the curve of a smile: it had been a long day, and sometimes it's just good to watch, and listen, and maybe... make that /definitely/ cheer on the sea monsters, to the point of clapping before starting on the move. By gamblers, by eaters /and/ drinkers, it's all good.
"Huh, I don't know. Drank, drunk. Drunk is when you've drank too much?" Persie suggests, catching her lip in her teeth. And then Fayre is making all sorts of ruckus and the greenrider laughs. "You've found your friend. Or been found. Or... wait, which one of you was lost?" With the Istan's comments to the passing X'lar, Persie flashes a quick smile at him, then she goes about waving to help catch this Suizen's attention.
Suizen lifts a hand to wave at X'lar, and by extension, Fayre as well, when said goldrider starts to scream her name. There is a moment, when shoulders slump pathetically, before the scene actually makes her grin. And snicker, as she makes her way over, "'lo there, X'lar, Fayre, Fayre's new friend? Or is that old friend? And if this means you've had a lot of sweetner, Fayre, I'm goin' to be restrictin' you from any more for the night..." she informs Fayre, before telling Persie, "I'm Suizen, by the way. Or Sooz."
About to trail after X'lar toward the food, Paige slowly sinks back into her seat when it becomes obvious that the bronzerider intends to bring food and drink back to her. There's a funny little grimace for the harpers' choice of song, but her foot taps to the beat nonetheless, a cheerful movement that is rather at odds with her still vaguely sad expression. But then here's X'lar returning with food and drink, both of which she accepts with a quiet thanks, even if she picks at the food and sips sparingly at the water. "Oh, er, yeah. Almos', I guess, " she answers to his query about weyrlinghood, steering clear of anymore discussion tending toward the High Reaches Weyrleader. "Nice o'him t'let us come, though. I was - I was really lookin' forward t'the dancin'."
X'lar stares at Fayre as he listens to her talk to both Persie and Suizen, laughing aloud at the goldrider's last remark to him. And then there's that memorable shoulder falling not so far away, easily seen by the bronzerider. A deep breath is taken by the Istan teen, his left hand rising to rub at his face. "For the love that is all pastry goodness, I swear..." X'lar mutters. His right hand rises to offer a greeting to Sooz. "And what's stopping you from dancing now, Paige?" X'lar asks the Fortian weyrling curiously. "You've got the rest of the night to party. Take advantage of it."
"Fardles." Yes, R'uen is making fun of Phara's word choice yet again. Very sweet of him. "Hey, tropical means fruit and this is a grape and so it's what you're getting." He's much more polite to Madilla, not knowing her and all. "You're very welcome. However the company, I fear, has to be short-lived. If I don't hunt down Tiriana some time soon she's gonna hit me again and then I'll have to tell everyone I've got a black eye from a girl and I don't know if my manliness can take it." Says the guy in the fancy vest and white shoes.
P'draig comes up from the Crafter's Row whistling and leans against the convenient support of a stall post from which to get the lay of the land around the dancing square. He picks out weyrlings here and there and grins, looking inordinately pleased. He pushes away from that pole after a moment and works his way into the crowd with no apparent goal in mind, dodging an over-enthusastic gather-goer here and there.
"Well, neither of us was really /lost/, like lost lost. We just couldn't find each other." Fayre babbles as she continues to wave her hands at Suizen. As soon as the resident waves back, the goldrider's hands abruptly drop back to her sides. "There we go, got her attention." She giggles at Suizen's words, covering her mouth as she does so. "Mm-mm. I've not had one sweet. Just porcine n'some other stuff. What have you been up to?" Her chestnut eyes examine Suizen's dress, as if Fayre is seeing it for the first time. "An' I shoulda said earlier, I'm real happy y'got all dressed up. I know you usually don't like to one bit." She eyes X'lar and comments, "I don't want any of my clutchmates either, if y'recall. I feel too...comrade-y with them all."
Madilla is quite a bit slower at drinker her wine than Phara, her expression after each sip a curious one, not of distaste, but of something resembling fascination, perhaps. "Oh," she says, at Phara's comment, head shaking. "Not for me. One is--" Her cheeks are already beginning to flush, and not from embarrassment, this time, and her glass is not yet empty. "Tiriana-- oh. Yes, I can imagine she might," she tells R'uen, with the sage nod of someone who has met the girl in question. "Good luck with her." She grins at him, still (again?) amused.
"It itches. In places I can't scratch..." Sooz informs everyone oh so helpfully, in a grumpy voice, before staring at Fayre. No sweetner? Oh, Faranath. Oh, right. The other reason they are here. "Didja find anyone to your liking? And nothin' much - was just wandering the crafter stalls, checkin' things out."
Phara snorts at R'uen. "Jerk." She mutters good-naturedly. "I'll forgive you, you'd look rather silly with two black eyes, anyways." She twirls the stem of the wine-glass between her fingers, and nods quietly to Madilla, "Of course. Well, I wager I'll find some other good looking man to drink under the table if you're going to leave us, Rev."
Persie pats a hand dry and clean on her hip before offering it to Suizen, "I'm Persie," she grins. "New friend." Since the question was posed. "And you're Suizen. She's been looking for you." As if the screaming wasn't a clue. Of course she'll forget every name she's heard today by the time she gets home, but she at least pretends to catalog them.
Early on in the humdrum and buzz of excited voices, Fort's newest goldrider got lost amongst the throng, separated from the other weyrlings she had arrived with. Now, Berit surfaces near the dancing square with a tall, sandy-haired man and an attractive, buxom woman clinging to his arm. "I am quite flattered, but I do insist that you two enjoy yourselves," she can be heard to say with a warm smile and a flick of her fan towards the rotating couples on the man-made floor. They part with quiet words, the twosome aligning with the other dancing pairs, and the weyrling left standing by herself, idly watching the people passing by. She snaps her lace fan closed against the inside of her palm, her sage-green eyes searching the milling gather-goers. Someone, or something, finally catches her attention, and with a little satisfied smile, she grasps her skirt and starts to pick her way through the crowd. It is considerably harder to find one's way when one is so short, and as a consequence, she finds herself near the gambling table, brow puckered and mouth pouting as she tries to see over heads.
Spying P'draig's familiar form nearby, T'rien lifts his mug and calls out a hail toward the Fortian Weyrlingmaster. He doesn't seem too inclined to remove himself from his position on the grass, and seems rather comfortable with his posterior planted firmly on the ground.
A hand goes up, and mistaking, Leova pauses her meandering circuit to look back. "Evening, X'lar," she greets agreeably enough, adding for the other Istans, "...Everyone." And she stands there a moment, poised between staying into the next moment and abandoning ship.
P'draig's head turns as he hears his name called and steps out of the worst of the ebb and flow of traffic, grins as he spots T'rien and moves towards his fellow brownrider, dropping down into the grass beside him. "Hey Tri. Good Gather so far? It's been nice getting out of the Weyr for a bit."
"I have no doubt you will," R'uen is assured of Phara's man-finding abilities. "It's been lovely, ladies. Don't drink too much. And if you do, make sure the stories are good ones." He lifts his glass to them, a farewell, and then he heads off into the crowds to track down his missing girl.
"You see, gents. That's what I'm on about." N'thei leans back from the dice cup, shows the dots to the men all huddled around it, some groaning and some grinning. "Count them out, boys, I want to see the stacks all lined up in front of me like little victory towers," while he collects the marks from a careless pile into three neat little rows on the bench before him. "Girl, bring these lads some drinks, can't hurt their game any!" That last is barked at Berit off-handedly, pegging her as a booth-worker instead of a goldrider-- honest mistake.
"Oh, y'learn tricks to deal with that stuff." Fayre explains helpfully. To demonstrate, she brings her legs close together and wiggles a bit; her eyebrows raise upwards, as if to say 'see?'. Judging by how silly Fayre's move makes her look, it might be better to just scratch inappropriately. When her wiggling comes to an end, Fayre politely asks, "Where are ya from, Persie?" Sadly, she shakes her head at Suizen. "Nope. I haven't even been asked to dance yet. Ain't that a pity? Oh right!" She claps her hands together, her face flushing with the excitement of news to tell. "I did impress a new firelizard, though! A brown fella. He's napping by Lieryth now. Named him Ruken." She eyes Leova carefully when the greenrider approaches and she merely nods at her.
T'rien exhales slowly, seeming far more relaxed than he's been in...quite awhile. "It's good to get out of the weyr and indulge," he affirms. "I'm trying to motivate myself into getting up and doing some shopping but the ale is too tasty and the ground is remarkably comfortable."
P'draig leans back on his hands and laughs. "Yeah. Got my shopping done. Something new for Palia, some other gifts. Didn't do too badly on deals either. So I hear yo on comfortable grass, though I think I might have to remedy my ale-less state," Fort's Weyrlingmaster replies with a grin. "Which seller did you get yours from?"
"I jus' - I know I'm a rider, but I was a holder not so long ago and - I felt the same way 'bout Weyr people tha' they do. I jus' wanted t'dance. I ain' one o'those fast people we was always warned 'bout." Paige gets all of this out in a rush, hastily taking a gulp of water. "Guess ain' nothin' stoppin' me, " she says after a bit, "but - guess I better finish eatin' and let all tha' food settle 'fore I get back out there." And finally, she begins to put forth a better effort to make headway on her plate.
"That I'd like to watch," Madilla tells Phara, still grinning, of the bluerider's comment on drinking good looking men under the table, as R'uen leaves. "I suspect I'll be doling out a fair amount of hangover remedy in the morning." Her glass is transferred from one hand to the other, another careful sip taken from it as she glances around. "Are you going to dance?" she asks, head bobbing towards the dancing square.
T'rien takes a sip from his mug and thinks for a moment, glancing about until he finally remembers the direction of the proper stall. "Over that way," he points with his mug. "A local seller. Pretty good, too."
Phara chuckles, "And you may get to. Save a bit of that remedy for me, eh? I suspect you'll find me and Mr. Good-Looking slumped together under one of those tables with glasses still in hand." A smirk, and then a shrug, "Of course! Alone, if I have to!" Golden hued eyes slide towards her young companion, "And you, my dear? Going to take a swing on the arm of some nice boy?"
"Evenin' to yourself, Leova," X'lar replies to the Reachian greenrider, smiling briefly to her. His eyes glance toward N'thei and Berit, just laughing under his breath in amusement. The bronzerider offers to Paige: "He has a habit of making as many faux pas as I do, I think. Either that or he really is a misogynistic fool." He spots Fayre's reaction to Leova and frowns, but it's easily shaken off. "Bought anything along the crafter's row, Leova?" X'lar asks the amber-eyed greenrider. And look, the teenager looks remarkably unruffled. To Paige: "Good. You shouldn't ever let others dictate your actions. Do what you're going to do. Life's not going to stop. It's just going to go and go..." He pauses and grins once more, saying, "So if you feel like dancin', I'd be happy to dance with you when you're up to it, Paige." And with that, the Istan teen finally sits down.
P'draig follows the direction T'rien is pointing and nods. "Got it, hold the seat," he notes of the patch of grass he's sitting on and flashes his friend a smile as he pushes to his feet and heads that way. Doesn't take long to get a tankard for himself and rejoin the other Fortian on the grass, observing the comings and goings. "I hope the Weyrlings are having a good time too. Always good for them to get out too."
"High Reaches," Persie tells Fayre. "Well, for a few turns now. Fort before that but..." Not important. She waves it away with a hand. "Oh you two should just go dance." She says to both Istans. "You don't need to wait for some guy to ask you."
Madilla takes another sip from her glass - still going! - and, having swallowed, laughs. "I'll come looking for you," she promises, teasingly. "Alone? Really? I'd be too emabrrassed to do that. I don't... really know how to dance. Daegan promised me one, for the hatching feast, only I wasn't there in the end, and he wasn't up for it. I was hoping I might claim it off him tonight, but..." She shrugs. No Daegan to be seen. "I don't really know many other boys to dance with."
Suizen just sort of stares at Fayre for a long moment. "Riiight. Scratching at the itches, it is..." There is a pause, as she ponders how to put this, before she just comes out, "Fayre? You know I adore you, right? That... er... is rather like a little havin' to use the necessary." Or in other terms, the peepee dance. Persie gets a grin, "Nice to be meetin' you - I'll probably ask your name half a dozen times tonight, just to be warnin' you." And then to Leova, there's a grin, "'lo. Hope you know one of these nuts - otherwise, you might end up runnin'." So X'lar hasn't done anything. That just means the sentence is missing the 'yet'.
All that noise draws Berit's reluctant attention, and her focus shifts to the men gathered around the table. She is about to step over and peek at their sport when she is rudely called upon to service them all with drinks. Serving wench, indeed. Both fists come to plunk on her hips, her fan dangling from a ribbon at her wrist. "I surely will not do anything of the sort, and it would not hurt you to say 'please' or 'thank you' while you are about your ordering." She lifts her prim nose in the air, assuming a haughty pose. "Who are you anyway? Acting all high and mighty like you have the right to command peop" Her words are cut off as her eyes slide to his knot, and then they get very round. "Sir."
Phara laughs, "No trick to dancing alone. Tell you what, I'll teach you!" This wild, exhuberant proclaimation is accompanied by Phara wagging her hand at Madilla, palm up and fingers outstretched. "Really, it's fun." Her glass is set down hastily on a table occupied by a couple talking quietly. They look up at her in surprise and then shrug, leaning their heads in close again.
T'rien leans back on his elbows, looking a tad bemused at this point. "They seemed to be having a good time, from what I noticed. I was a bit preoccupied earlier but..." He lifts his shoulders in a slight shrug. "Brought Jerien with me," he announces. "His first gather. Jaenie got him off somewhere, probably buying him all those bubbly pies she told me not to get him."
Madilla blinks several times, fast, at Phara's sudden exuberance, glancing around this way and that as if to reassure herself that no one is-- staring? Laughing? Impossible to know. Finally, with an embarrassed grin on her face, she also sets her glass down, and accepts Phara's hand. "Okay," she says, finally. "Um. If you like."
Once X'lar is amiable to Leova, Fayre is too, as if permission to be friendly has been granted. Her expression softens and she smiles at the greenrider. "Ista's duties to everyone here, by the way." She listens to Persie with interest and craftily replies, "Lots of cool people seem to come from High Reaches." The goldrider raises her eyebrows and pauses for effect. "Get it? Cool? Like cold? Like how High Reaches is cold? Clever, right? But seriously, I've been meanin' to visit there more often." She frowns and smooths back her hair. "Hey, I ain't afraid to dance without a guy. Just didn't want to do it all by my lonesome, 'cause then I'd just look...well, real sad." Suizen earns herself a narrowed glare, but there's still a grin on Fayre's face. "See, that's what a good friend is. Honest. Guess I'm lucky that my dress ain't itchy, so I won't have to wiggle like that again. If there are no men we can drag onto the floor, wanna just dance with me, Sooz?" Her chestnut eyes still glance around the grounds, hoping to spot a someone or two to pull onto the square.
The general oooooh and ain't-she-uppity reaction is peppered with snickers and smirks while the dicing men have a gander at Berit's reaction, and N'thei leans back on his bench to eye her with an oh-really-now brightness to his smile. Arms folded, he sizes up the little girl tip of toes to top of curly head. Then she tacks on 'sir' and he grins all the wider. "So you still need who-are-you answered then?" He's guessing not.
Such a careful glance gets Fayre a second, brief look and a mild, "Congratulations," to go with it, though she skips the duties. Leova adds more generally, "Today was mostly looking, though I've an eye for something tomorrow, might be able to talk the price down better.... And we're acquainted. I'm Leova, green Vrianth's," and she offers Suizen her hand. "Back from when he was a weyrling, hm?"
Paige casts an alarmed look over to where N'thei and the other gamblers are engaged in their game, but it dissolves into amusement, despite herself, at Berit's posturing. Shoving a few more forkfuls of food down, she washes down her meal - more of a snack, really - by finishing off her glass of water, peering down to where her and D'kai's hatchlings are still curled up, shifting slightly to resettle themselves more comfortably in her lap while she eats. "I'll - take ya up on tha', " she says in reply to X'lar's offer, smile warming a bit. "Hopefully they won' be singin' 'bout shipwrecks anymore by the time I'm ready."
The grin on Phara's face would be hard-pressed to grow any larger than it has become. "I think I would. Really, everyone should know how to dance. It's easy. You just kinda.... back and forth." She doesn't bother with the dance square. The grass will do just fine. "Here, look. Put your other hand on my shoulder. I'll be the boy." She winks, moving to set her hand on Madilla's waist. "First, you put your right foot back - or is that forward?" She muses, and then giggles at herself. "Yes, I think it's back."
"Had Palia here for a bit," P'draig notes to T'rien from his spot on the grass and tips his tankard up. "Sent her off with my mother about an hour ago," he continues and has another sip. "Mm. Good stuff," he notes about the ale. "He's getting so big, Jerien. Time sure does fly, huh?"
Persie shares a wide grin with Leova as she comes into the immediate circle, but as her glass nears empty, she starts to get distracted from the talk around her. Rather than make any actual goodbyes to Fayre or Suizen, she slinks backward a bit and says only, "I think I need a refill," before slipping off into the throng once more.
T'rien nods, resting his mug on the ground for the time being. "Yeah. I was just thinking that a little bit ago. I can't believe I got so lucky as to have him in my life. Ah, there I go, getting all maudlin again. Must be the ale." He looks over at his friend and manages a smile. "Good thing I've only had this one."
Madilla's expression, while at first very clearly defined as 'maybe you are a lunatic after all', calms as she takes a deep breath, nods, and finally allows herself to, if not exactly match Phara's grin, at least emulate to a small degree. Still, her hand hesitates before it goes to rest upon the older girl's shoulder. Once there, however, her expression takes on a more serious, intent cant, as she diligently puts her right foot back. "Like this?" Wobble.
X'lar chuckles softly under his breath at hearing Leova's comments to Sooz, his attention returning to Paige, brows twitching upwards at her next comment about the singing. "Ship wrecks?" X'lar asks the Fortian green weyrling. "Bad experience?" This seems to make the teen's voice soften a touch, nodding to her. "I'm free whenver you feel like dancin', Paige," he adds. To Leova, X'lar nods again, offering to the Reachian greenrider, "Found something for my mum that I think she'd like. Good number of wares about though, makes me wonder if I shouldn't go back and see if I can find something for myself too."
Phara nods her head encouragingly, "Just like. And then I put my right foot forward." So much for leading. "And then you go.. um... to the right! So step back with your left foot, too, see? And then step again to the right." It's a good thing Phara doesn't teach dancing as a profession.
Neiravi has been in the background for a while, shopping and eating and caring for her surprise--the bronze fire-lizard hatchling she attracted in Crafter's Row earlier. Now she comes lightly down into the main courtyard, her practical garb exchanged for a simple little black dress, her long hair coiled and pinned into a chignon at her nape. The first thing she sees is Phara and Madilla having dancing lessons, and can only watch with a smile. "Walk in a box," she murmurs, remembering her own.
Haughtiness is traded for a repentant posture, head bowed and fingers toying with the front of her dress. She does not seem to mind the snickering or the smirks, but she tries not to sound too ashamed when N'thei asks the pressing question. "No, sir, and I apologize. I think you were mistaken. I am not.. no, my name I Berit," is released with a small sigh, and she bobs a quick curtsey. "Gold Zibeth's of Fort." Taking a guess, she says weakly, "And you are N'thei of High Reaches."
"Ditto about my kids," P'draig agrees with T'rien readily and rests his tankard lightly atop his knee, eyes scanning the dance floor. "Heh. There's a couple of weyrlings out there. Good. They're kicking up their heels," he notes, craning his neck a little. "Going to get there yourself?"
"I'll probably end up tryin' to break your feet, but if you wanna, Fay, I'm game.." Sooz agrees after a moment, before grinning at Leova, and meets palms, "I'm Suizen, of Ista, this is Fayre, you're knowin' X'lar, it sounds like, and that's... huh. Well, Persie's - that's her name, right? - is off gettin' something to drink, I think."
T'rien shakes his head. "Already been. Took Satiet for a twirl. Or, rather, she took me. Go figure." He lifts his mug once more and drains it. "I should probably go find Jaenie and do some of that shopping I was talking about."
"To the right?" repeats Madilla, a questioning note in her voice. "Okay." She does as told, though very slowly, her feet not quite getting tangled, though it's a very close call. "Are you sure this is how it goes? It feels very awkward," she tells Phara. A glance around results in her catching a glance of Neiravi watching, and her cheeks go pink. Hi?
"S'jus' ain' cheerful, " Paige explains of the concept of shipwrecks, putting her dish and glass aside after a bit. "Dancin' oughta be cheerful, yeah?" And as G'ben swaggers over to plop down next to her, perhaps in an attempt to gather gossip, she quickly passes the two firelizards off to him, leaving him there looking bewildered as she gets to her feet. "Er, shall we, X'lar?"
Phara frowns, "Well, no, I'm not precisely certain.. but it does feel awkward at first, really." She pauses, rubbing her chin, and glancing around. "Maybe it was you forward and to the left... or was it back and to the left?" And then she shrugs. "Oh well, as long as it's fun!" Neiravi is given a bright grin and a nod. No embarassment here.
Profanity clipped; suffice it to say, N'thei hasn't got the cleanest language. "You people are everywhere," he adds with a sigh when Berit confesses her name, her dragon's name, leading right into the conclusion of her rank. Standing, pocketing his marks, ignoring the snickers now aimed his way-- hah! she's a goldrider!-- he climbs over a couple of benches with a hand stuck out toward the girl. Justification; "Though you must be one of those booth wenches. Little and hanging around the edges of dice games."
P'draig nearly splutters his next mouthful of ale. "Satiet. Took you for a twirl?" Blink. "Well I'll be,' Paddy laughs out and grins over at his friend. "Good you got some dancing in though. And yeah, get it done while you can I guess," the Weyrlingmaster says, though he himself doesn't seem to be minded to move.
Leova's briefly distracted, giving Persie an admiring look to go along with that grin, for that dress, for those sparkly pink shoes. Turning back, though, "Nice to go to a Gather that's pretty far away, isn't it. Find her something she mightn't find on the island. More familiar faces than I'd expected, though. Along with the rest, of course..." She gives name-repeating a try. Soo-zen. Looks all hopeful, too, that she might have gotten it right. "Well met and all. And yes. Persie. Green Secath's, she's from my Weyr."
Fayre raises one of her feet to show off an orange closed-toe shoe. "Least I'm not wearin' my usual sandals, right? So I got some shieldin' if you step on my feet." She sticks out her arm towards Suizen with a smile. "Shall we?" One foot of hers begins to tap to the rhythm of the song as she gets ready to dance to the beat.
T'rien seems slightly clueless. He climbs slowly to his feet, stretching a bit as he rises. "She seemed nice enough. First time I've ever spoken to the woman. You know me and goldriders...I swear I've got a magnet in my pocket that just draws me right to them." Tapping his mug against his thigh, he tosses a grin down at his friend. "See you a bit later. I've some marks that are burning a hole in my pocket."
Madilla's expression is briefly pained, as Phara doubts her own instructions, but at the 'as long as it's fun' comment, she laughs, immediately looking more relaxed. "You're right, you're right. It's not about getting it /right/, necessarily." So: she keeps going, and sure, it's muddled, and really not very fluid, but... It works.
"Mm. Tell you a little about the Reaches sometime," P'draig tells T'rien and lifts his mug in farewell. "Good luck with the shopping. As for goldriders, mum's the word. See you later, T'ri."
Neiravi is trying not to smile too broadly, lest Madilla's cheeks explode. "No, she's right, it's easy," she assures the other girl. "You step in a box shape--right foot back, left to the side, and around and around in that shape. After a bit, your feet remember how, and you don't have to count the time."
X'lar glances to Sooz curiously, amused as she talks more to Leova. The latter is given another nod of greeting before returning his attention back to Paige. "Of course," X'lar offers to the Fortian green weyrling, nodding to her. The Istan rider gets up on his feet as well and begins walking toward the dancing square. "Hopefully I can keep up!" X'lar calls out to Paige, grinning wide. "I did some dancing before, last summer, so hopefully I remember how to do it!" That doesn't sound particularly promising, does it?
Suizen ahs, at Leova with a bit of a grin, "Clearly, I'm payin' attention tonight.. now? Well, alright then. And tell you what - I break anything in your feet, I'll make you a new pair of cups for your weyr.." she bargins with the goldrider, following her out to the dancing floor.
After some searching, apparently fruitless, R'uen ends up back by the dance floor on his own. His drink got lost somewhere along the line, too, and now he heads toward the stand to find himself a little more. Only a certain greenrider catch his attention. He keeps an eye on Leova as his path takes him closer to her, just in case she looks in his direction.
Confusion marks Berit's face, drawing her brows together. "I I am sorry?" She takes a step back, then another, as he comes forward, and only by focusing on the hand he holds out to her does she manage to stand what little ground she has left. "How do you do?" Her hand slips into his for the shake, a brief and subtle interlude. "I hope I did not interrupt.." Each man left at the table is given a quick, sparse glance in turn. "..your game." Turning back to N'thei and tilting her head back, she blinks up at the big man. "Booth wench? Why.. oh. I was looking for someone. I thought I saw.. I got lost," she finishes up lamely, looking away.
Phara grins at Madilla, "See, that's right. Now I'm going to step back and you're going to step forward, and then we're going to go left." She nods to Neiravi and waggles her eyebrows.
It takes a little while, what with the talking and all, but then the others are heading for the dance floor and Leova's nodding after them, and. Vest. That's what catches her eye, the angled patchwork and all, and only after a long fascinated moment does she look up to identify its owner. And then she laughs, and what with all the music and people, what she says is likely silent from that distance: Should have known.
Madilla, turning her head to look at Neiravi again, actually manages a smile this time. "A box shape? Oh - that makes sense. Thanks!" Her cheeks are still flushed, but no doubt that's as much to do with the wine she drank. "I'm going forward," she repeats after Phara, feet moving as she speaks. "And then we're going-- " She pauses, but recovers quickly, "Left, which is my left, right? Not yours." If she's wrong, there'll be a muddle - that's the way she goes.
Laughter announces T'rev's arrival, the bronzerider ambling along with a pair of riders from his wing, one each originating from Telgar and Fort. Jokes seem to be in the offing by the tenor of what the brownrider on the right says next. More shared laughter follows and T'rev claps each on the shoulder. "Catch you up for cards later, I'm goin' t'see about a drink and maybe a bit o'dancin'." So saying he cruises by one of the many drink-sellers, gets himself a mug of something dangerous and starts for the edge of the dance square.
Phara shrugs her shoulders and grins, "I dunno. The opposite of the way we went first, yeah? A box, right? So we went right, now we're going left." Makes sense to her. "And then, the big finish, yeah? The spin." She winks, raising the hand joined with Madilla's up slightly over the healer girl's head.
Interrupt? "You did." N'thei does't seem particularly sorry that she did, not really accusing so much as informing her, while he gives her hand a quick-firm-shake. Making nice, awww. And then a blunt admission after a few seconds of frowning at Berit's hemming and hawing, her looking away. "Liked your first reaction better, miss. Why are you the one apologizing." There's a very specific method there that turns what should be a question into a demand, some combination of flat-voice and hard-stare.
"Look at you all dressed up," R'uen says, his grin so wide and smug it might just hurt him a little. "You couldn't find someone's sweater to tie around your waist or something? Didn't want to wear a few more shirts, just to see if we could all get confused about where your middle is?" He slows as he nears her to add, "I'm getting a drink. Want one?" with a little tip of his head for her to join him if she likes.
Neiravi chuckles, nodding and keeping time with a tapping foot for Madilla and Phara. "There always has to be a spin," she agrees, straight-faced. "And a dip, but that comes a bit later. It just takes practice. Trust me, everyone else is as nervous as you." She does a little twirl herself, by way of demonstration.
Madilla just laughs at the confusion of it all, and obediently removes her hand from Phara's shoulder to execute the spin, her dark red skirt sweeping about and showing off a little bit of heavily booted ankle. "A dip, too?" she asks, turning to grin at Neiravi, laughing, as she breaks away from the spin. "I'm definitely going to need to practice all of this. I'm Madilla, by the way. And this is Phara."
A flash of someone tall and ungainly, blonde hair, chestnut curls, and flowing skirts catches the fledgling goldrider's attention and her eyes narrow at the sight. But, the vision is fleeting, and she still has N'thei to answer. "Because I am expected to." Her answer is blunt, a bit of wryness mixed into her own flat tone as she looks up at him. "I am a weyrling, and we have to give proper respect to our betters." Angling her head to the side, Berit lifts her narrow shoulders in a shrug. "Would you prefer that I insulted you, sir?" Another blink of those wide green eyes, real innocent-like.
Lovely answer. Except-- "Do you think I'm better than you." N'thei stands there, arms folded, every bit imposing, and puts to Berit a question that has no 'good' answer. So much for lovely froofy party times, huh.
Niena suddenly shakes her head, as if just waking up. She strokes the firelizard hatchling which no doubt contributed to the impromptu nap, then finishes the wine which also no doubt helped. She quickly looks around to get her bearings, watching the dancers as she had before.
Phara giggles, releasing Madilla and executing her own spin, making her dress flare out. "A dip? I think we'll save that for the boys to teach you." She winks at the dark Neiravi and then looks around. "Crowd seems to be thinning out. I'm for another drink. Either of you want anything? Madilla, juice?"
Neiravi comes out of her twirl into a curtsey. "Neiravi of Fort. Well-met, Phara and Madilla. You were in Crafter's Row, Phara, when the eggs hatched all over everything? I think I remember your necklace," she winks, "but I had a lizard trying to eat my fingers at the time." She brightens at the suggestion of a drink. "I've been good. I think I'll have a glass of wine."
Leova finds herself looking down, realizes, narrows her eyes back at R'uen by way of also forcing down the burn in her cheeks. In the end, she gives him back, breezily, "Couldn't find any along Crafter Row. Least, not one that didn't clash." The rest of her answer's served by taking up an easy walk next to him, something light enough to make her hems not swish too much. "Did you have a vest like that when you were littler, help your mother find you in a crowd?"
And what a question that is. Berit hesitates for a fraction of a second, before saying carefully, "I do not know you well, sir, so I cannot say what you are or what you are not." That satisfies her enough, but will it satisfy him? She watches him curiously, no hint of sarcasm or malice in her open expression.
"But you just said your betters." N'thei raises his eyebrows like that's a question, except it's not, and he moves on without enough of a pause that she could even answer it if it was one. Really, he's still disappointed at the change from hands-on-hips to all-apologies. "Congratulations at your Impression, Berit of Fort, I wish you the best of luck."
"I'll just have to walk up to one of them, and demand to be dipped," jokes Madilla, eyes bright from the amusement and exercise of it all. "I-- juice, please? That would be lovely, thank you." She grins at Neiravi, brows raising slightly. "Well met. You got one of the firelizards? I saw them, but I was helping Journeywoman Delifa, so I didn't get any closer than that."
"As if my mother would ever misplace me," R'uen returns, an eye for Leova's cheeks. "Having a good time tonight? Buy anything nice?" And also, as they near the drink stand, "Want my vest? Cover up a little more?" He lets his gaze skim down over her ensemble again, might as well get a clue what she looks like while he can.
"White or red?" Queries Phara, but is nodding and touching her necklace proudly. "Yes, I was there. You Impressed one, right? Don't care for the things, myself, but they seem to make folks happy so I guess i can't fault them there." She nods again to Madilla and heads of for that drink. She comes back, juggling a glass of redfruit juice, the wine (in whatever color Neiravi prefers) and - finally - her tropical beverage. "Perhaps you should. How about that one." She points, playfully, to one of the lads sitting idle around the gather ground.
Much like a fish out of water, Berit opens her mouth and closes it several times, stunned out of her wits by the abrupt response and departure. She tries to blink away her confusion, but ends up turning to watch the Reachian walk away, her head tilted to the side. "What a strange man," she can be heard to murmur to herself, a flicker of disbelief in her green eyes. Shaking her head, she turns back.. and, oh! Dice tables! This is her chance to edge closer.
P'draig spends a little more time getting acquainted with that ale, drinks the tankard down to empty and then pushes to his feet, catches sight of someone he was keeping an eye out for and face wreathed with a smile, slips off in that direction, lost soon in the crowd.
"Fine, fine, maybe not /accidentally/." Leova leaves off teasing R'uen long enough to get a better look at the harpers, check for Rhonda, but no luck. Distractedly, "Good time, waiting for tomorrow," and suddenly she's no longer giving him a sideways look and walking a half-step closer, a half-step slower, both designed to block his view a little better. "No, no, keep your clothes on. Besides, I like it. /Looks/ like something you'd wear."
N'thei strolls off, turning a grin into his collar, buttoning his vest. Good party.
IC Date: 6/28/17
I took out the "on the dance square" poses, because this log was crazy long anyway. ;) And I hope I tagged everyone. Dang.
Benden Hold
The Hold's cliff rises high above the courtyard, its impassive stone face studded with Threadfall shutters thrown wide, surmounted by the fireheights where the Gather flag snaps in the wind. A symbol of its Lady's public belief in the Interval, the Hold's grand doors are barely ajar for once, the Gather a sprawling and wholly outside affair.
Food and drink are served in the upper court, its central fountain performing double duty as a place to keep ale kegs and wineskins cool, away from the porcine roasting on its spit. While the side nearest the greenhouse is lined with tables bearing platters of simple party food, the side opposite has long trestle tables and benches brought out from the Hold itself, with festive lanterns to light the scene as the sun goes down.
A few steps down in the much larger main courtyard, a regular rotation of harpers entertains the masses from a dais next to the dancing square. The vintners are doing good business at the entrance to their Hall, but the booths of other tradespeople are down the ramp in Crafter Row.
X'lar walks with his water, taking a few sips as he watches the dancing from farther away. Soon, however, he finds himself near Paige again. There's a moment when he opens his mouth to speak to her, but he instead closes his mouth without saying a word. For now, the teenager just watches the pairs dancing on the square instead.
Fayre rises to put her empty plate away somewhere, but before she has the opportunity to do so it's swept away by a polite Benden resident. She smiles her thanks, but now the rider is a loss of what exactly she should...do, now. The music and dancing couples draw her closer to the square, but she doesn't seem willing to brave it alone. So she just watches, tapping her foot along with the beat of the music.
T'rien seems familiar enough with the music - he even hums a few bars of the refrain under his breath as he tries to find his rhythm. "He's a hair over 2 Turns now. Growing like a weed, too. Your daughters? You mentioned some - how old are they?"
Persie's first task once getting off the floor is not, as she said, to seek out certain cheap venders of glassbead jewelry, but to park herself in line at the vintner's stand and get herself a glass of wine. Only once that's done does she wander back over toward the floor, finding herself alongside Fayre watching the dancers. "It's really pretty, isn't it?" she says aside to the Istan over the edge of her glass.
Fayre smiles broadly now that she's got company and nods her agreement. "Aye. Benden sure did a number with the food n'decorations." Her arms cross as she watches the dancers twirl about, her smile remaining on her face. "And everyone looks so nice in their Gather finery. I love how all the colours blend together when they spin. The dancers, I mean." She glances at the wine in Persie's hand, asking, "Any good?"
"The spinning is the best," Persie agrees with Fayre rather emphatically. "I like seeing all the skirts twirling around. Everyone looks so nice and lovely." She runs a hand through her hair to try to look the part of nice and lovely herself, making it all smooth again. "Have you been out to dance yet?" And taking another hasty sip of her wine, she nods. "It's good enough for me. I don't really have one of those... what are they called. Refined platelets." Something like that.
He's really been here this whole time. Honest. Xakael watches the goings on from his chosen vantage, which would be somewhere out of the way for most folks. His thumbs are hooked in his beltloops, mouth pulled just a touch to one side as he watches not the dancers but the other people as they mill about and converse. The Bitran ducks his head thoughtfully for a moment before moving to get something to drink -- water, of course.
By the dancing floor, away from trodding boots and sharp heels, Satiet and T'rien dance bare feet on the grass. "Five. And I only love one of them," replies Satiet, the inflection laid into her quip indicative of a long-standing internal joke. "Their father loves the other one. We figure that makes it fair and equal. Honestly," the slender woman spins out on her own and twirls back with a flare of her blue dress, "If they weren't my children..."
Madilla, arm in arm with R'uen, and Phara on the other side of the bronzerider, looks genuinely relieved as she says, "Much appreciated." Heading in to the gather grounds, she keeps turning her head this way and that to look at the dancing, the feast table, and all the rest. "That looks like a drinks stall there," she points, indicating a busy stall, tankards and wine glasses appearing and disappearing at great haste.
T'rien laughs, managing to keep up the dance without tripping himself up. He's not about to win any dance contests today but he's keeping himself upright, at least. "Jerien's a good boy. I'm lucky to be his father. I might change my mind when he gets older but, for now, his mother is right - I spoil him."
Fayre shakes her head mournfully and her tone changes to that of a drama queen; woeful, with just a pinch of whining. "Alas. No. Seems to be a lack of gentlemen at this Gather. That's the one problem with it, I'd say. Hmph. I brought my friend Suizen with me, an' the plan was to scout out cute guys, 'cause we can't find any good ones back at Ista." She sighs, her shoulders slumping dejectedly. "But I'm not sure where she ran off to, and so far our plan isn't turnin' out like it was supposed to." Persie fixing her hair reminds Fayre that hers could probably use a touch up, too. She adjusts the flower that's placed in her black shiny hair, ensuring it won't fall out even if she does get around to dancing. "Well, the Sandbar back where I'm from is real good. Y'don't even need refined tastebuds to appreciate it."
Phara gives R'uen's arm a gentle squeaze, "That way." She points her free hand towards the drinks stall just as Madilla does, and smirks. "Ah, well then. Onward and upwards! Or is that onward and drunkards?" She muses, and then shrugs, accompanied, of course, by the merry jingle of her necklace.
Paige gives a quiet little hiccup as she cradles the baby firelizards, shoulders trembling for a long moment before she expels a little sigh, gaze peeking over from her slippers to the ground nearby - except, there are shoes over there that belong to people. X'lar, perhaps, being one of them. "Sorry, " she gets out thickly after a moment, clearing her throat a little before adding, "I - I wasn' tryin' t'insult ya, hones', or - or anythin'. Would - love t'dance again, but - " And she breaks off with the smallest of shrugs.
In the upper courtyard, those greenriders finally reappear from the Hold. Somewhere along the way they acquired a second local as escort, the four women chatting away in changing variations of triangle-plus-one every few paces. Rhonda's got an eye for the not-so-square dancing square already, only it's less for the dancers than that drummer who'd soloed earlier. She makes tracks, too, but not before Leova can whisper a teasing comment, and all four laugh.
Off the dance floor, having given a spin to one of those old biddies that perpetually show up at gathers over-dressed and with no escort, N'thei finds a bench on the edge of the square where no one else is sitting. He parks, unbuttons his vest, loosens his collar, and casts his attention idly around the vicinity-- firelizards, barefoot dancers, people fixing their coifs, the clatter of dice in a cup, hmmmmmn.
"Drunkards, drunkwards, something like that," R'uen laughs. Sandwiched between two girls, laughing seems about right. He steers his set of ladies toward the drink stall before releasing their arms. "I'll get the first round," gentlemanly as Phara requested. "What are you drinking?"
Niena notices Rhonda and Leova and puts down her wineglass so she can wave to the greenriders. Then she returns to watching the dancers, her expression amused as she hears the evidence of feet being trampled.
"Wow," X'lar offers. "N'thei really bugged you, huh?" He motions toward the dance floor before going on to say, "There ain't anythin' insultin' about you, so I don't think you should be apologizing, Paige." He gives the weyrling a brief, albeit genuine smile. "And we don't have to dance either," Xie remarks, grinning. "Can I get you something to drink though?" X'lar asks the Fortian. As he looks toward where the drinks are, X'lar spots Leova, suddenly making him emit something not unlike a 'oh for Faranth's sake' said very quickly, garbled. The Istan teen quickly returns his attention to Paige, asking her: "So. Drink? Food?"
"Not /too/ drunkwards, I hope," remarks Madilla, though she sounds neither chiding nor concerned, a brilliant smile still present upon her face. Released, she shifts, still watching the dancers, and the rest of the congregated people with great interest. "I've no idea," she adds, at R'uen's offer, ducking her head. "Surprise me? Nothing-- too strong."
Phara considers her options from the drink board. "Something.. tropical." She muses. "Surprise me, eh?" She nods to Madilla. "Quite right. Not too drunkwards. Pleasantly giggly. No falling down on the dance floor."
Xakael takes a swig of water and finds his attention briefly catching on the not-exactly-enthused-seeming young woman just over there -- that attention moves once she's being tended to in some capacity by a friend, or so he presumes. "Hnh." Dancers there, chatters over here. Dice? Enticing, but not what he's here for. A hand digs absently in his pocket for something, finally pulling out a weighty metal 'coin' that's flipped with casual ease while he surveys the people once more.
"No cute guys at Ista. I'll have to remember that," Persie laughs. "I'll cross it off my list of places to meet boys." Her attention is drawn to Fayre's flower by the lift of the goldrider's hand. "Ooh, that's pretty. I should have worn some flowers in my hair. Or put it up, maybe. Next time, I guess. - I've been to the Sandbar, not as often as I'd like but... I like all the fruity things they have there. Or you have there. Or... whatever is the right way to say that." It's a bashful laugh she shares then at her own cumbersome wordings.
"Tha' - /Tha'/ was N'thei?" is the first thing Paige blurts, eyes round. Well, at least she has a face to put with the harper lessons. About to give a negative in the way of drinks, she can't help but notice the other rider's second, quicker prompt. "Okay, " she agrees at last, standing with a tremulous smile. "Guess I could - could use somethin' else t'eat and a lil bit o'drink. Jus' a water, though."
Suizen, makes her way to the gather proper, steps ackward and rather restrained, as she peers this way and that through the crowd, rather bemused to find herself among such a crowd. Catching sight of the dancing square, the young woman immediately turns away from that side of the area, and goes the other way.
"Good," begins Satiet as her hands slide easily to rest lightly on T'rien's shoulder. "Has very little to do with whether I like children or not." She simply doesn't. But there's a smile lurking behind the amusement of her features, bright eyes coupling with that slight curve of her lips. Then, from his shoulders, a hand falls to her hip and she takes a step back. "Thank you for the indulgence, T'rien of Fort."
R'uen gives Phara a look, like she might be completely nuts for the tropical request, a 'what the hell is wrong with you' face, though, you know, with love. "Okay, you are both getting wine." And his thanks for a simple order is in his grin to Madilla before he heads off to collect the glasses, coming back a moment later to dole them out. He lifts his glass, "Cheers, ladies."
T'rien steps back, carefully, and inclines his head toward the Weyrwoman. "My pleasure, Satiet. Thanks for putting up with my son and his...linguistic somersaults. I'm thinking the weyr harpers are going to have their hands full with him."
Like attracts like. People dance, primp themselves, talk smack about Weyrleaders, and throw dice. N'thei gravitates toward the last occupation, moth to the flame, and drags a bench to a cluster of men all hunched over a table. Home sweet home~
"You should listen to her all right," X'lar tells Persie and Fayre. "Just look at me." The apparently not so cute X'lar makes his way to the tables, grabbing a few items of food and another glass of water. Surprisingly enough, the bronzerider doesn't take any food for himself. He makes his way back to Paige, telling her: "Yeah, that's the Weyrleader of High Reaches. He ain't that bad. Good card player. He's not a bad Weyrleader either." The last is spoken with a wry smirk. He offers the food on the plate to her as well as the glass of water. "So you must almost be done with weyrlinghood if Paddy let you all out, huh?" X'lar asks her curiously. Suizen's given a quick wave as he sees her from the corner of his eye.
Fayre smiles politely and pats the orange, freshly blossomed flower. "We don't have many cute folks, but we do have beautiful flowers. I wouldn't be doin' my Weyr justice if I didn't show off its fauna, y'see." Her smile widens into a grin and the rider reaches to pat Persie on the back. "Ah, I always trip over my words. Like...what's the past tense of drink? Would you say someone drunk somethin', or that they drank it? I never know." Her attention is suddenly snatched away by the sight of Suizen and the goldrider wildly waves her arms to try and catch her friend's attention. "Sooooz! I'm over here, Sooz! Come meet my new friend!" Her voice goes up a notch in volume when Suizen turns away from the dance floor. "Ack! SUIZEN!" Fayre makes a face at X'lar as he goes by and she explains, "Hey, you're taken. You don't count. I mean cute /avaliable/ men."
Madilla openly laughs at R'uen's expression as he looks at Phara, grinning back at the bronzerider as he heads off to fill the order. "Giggly, right. That's what we're after, here." Accepting her glass, as R'uen returns, she gives it an interested glance, and bobs her head towards him. "Thank you, for this. And for the company."
Phara gives R'uen a hurt expression, "Wine? Fardles, R'uen, at least could have gotten me ale." But she drinks her wine nonetheless - perhaps with a mournful look of betrayal cast at R'uen every few moments. It doesn't last long, however, neither does the glass. "I've got the next round." She offers cheerfully. "When the lady and the fragile daisy are finished with theirs, of course."
T'rien removes himself from the relative danger of the dance floor, retrieving his boots and squatting on the grass to put them back on. He sits there for a bit, retrieving his mug that he set aside earlier and indulging in a long drink as he engages in a bit of people watching.
"I'm sure he'll be fine," reassures mother to father, a slip of a smile emerging on Satiet's lips. "Thank you for the dance. For the conversation. And for being a nice change for my night. Clear skies." With her dance desires fulfilled and a tankard or three of ale downed tonight, the slight woman, with one last nod for T'rien, disappears into the throng.
This time it's the Benden girls who have jokes to tell, and then a suggestion that gets Leova shrugging, a lift of her shoulder that as easily falls. She waves them onto the floor, and just stands there for some moments, indulging in some people-watching of her own with just the curve of a smile: it had been a long day, and sometimes it's just good to watch, and listen, and maybe... make that /definitely/ cheer on the sea monsters, to the point of clapping before starting on the move. By gamblers, by eaters /and/ drinkers, it's all good.
"Huh, I don't know. Drank, drunk. Drunk is when you've drank too much?" Persie suggests, catching her lip in her teeth. And then Fayre is making all sorts of ruckus and the greenrider laughs. "You've found your friend. Or been found. Or... wait, which one of you was lost?" With the Istan's comments to the passing X'lar, Persie flashes a quick smile at him, then she goes about waving to help catch this Suizen's attention.
Suizen lifts a hand to wave at X'lar, and by extension, Fayre as well, when said goldrider starts to scream her name. There is a moment, when shoulders slump pathetically, before the scene actually makes her grin. And snicker, as she makes her way over, "'lo there, X'lar, Fayre, Fayre's new friend? Or is that old friend? And if this means you've had a lot of sweetner, Fayre, I'm goin' to be restrictin' you from any more for the night..." she informs Fayre, before telling Persie, "I'm Suizen, by the way. Or Sooz."
About to trail after X'lar toward the food, Paige slowly sinks back into her seat when it becomes obvious that the bronzerider intends to bring food and drink back to her. There's a funny little grimace for the harpers' choice of song, but her foot taps to the beat nonetheless, a cheerful movement that is rather at odds with her still vaguely sad expression. But then here's X'lar returning with food and drink, both of which she accepts with a quiet thanks, even if she picks at the food and sips sparingly at the water. "Oh, er, yeah. Almos', I guess, " she answers to his query about weyrlinghood, steering clear of anymore discussion tending toward the High Reaches Weyrleader. "Nice o'him t'let us come, though. I was - I was really lookin' forward t'the dancin'."
X'lar stares at Fayre as he listens to her talk to both Persie and Suizen, laughing aloud at the goldrider's last remark to him. And then there's that memorable shoulder falling not so far away, easily seen by the bronzerider. A deep breath is taken by the Istan teen, his left hand rising to rub at his face. "For the love that is all pastry goodness, I swear..." X'lar mutters. His right hand rises to offer a greeting to Sooz. "And what's stopping you from dancing now, Paige?" X'lar asks the Fortian weyrling curiously. "You've got the rest of the night to party. Take advantage of it."
"Fardles." Yes, R'uen is making fun of Phara's word choice yet again. Very sweet of him. "Hey, tropical means fruit and this is a grape and so it's what you're getting." He's much more polite to Madilla, not knowing her and all. "You're very welcome. However the company, I fear, has to be short-lived. If I don't hunt down Tiriana some time soon she's gonna hit me again and then I'll have to tell everyone I've got a black eye from a girl and I don't know if my manliness can take it." Says the guy in the fancy vest and white shoes.
P'draig comes up from the Crafter's Row whistling and leans against the convenient support of a stall post from which to get the lay of the land around the dancing square. He picks out weyrlings here and there and grins, looking inordinately pleased. He pushes away from that pole after a moment and works his way into the crowd with no apparent goal in mind, dodging an over-enthusastic gather-goer here and there.
"Well, neither of us was really /lost/, like lost lost. We just couldn't find each other." Fayre babbles as she continues to wave her hands at Suizen. As soon as the resident waves back, the goldrider's hands abruptly drop back to her sides. "There we go, got her attention." She giggles at Suizen's words, covering her mouth as she does so. "Mm-mm. I've not had one sweet. Just porcine n'some other stuff. What have you been up to?" Her chestnut eyes examine Suizen's dress, as if Fayre is seeing it for the first time. "An' I shoulda said earlier, I'm real happy y'got all dressed up. I know you usually don't like to one bit." She eyes X'lar and comments, "I don't want any of my clutchmates either, if y'recall. I feel too...comrade-y with them all."
Madilla is quite a bit slower at drinker her wine than Phara, her expression after each sip a curious one, not of distaste, but of something resembling fascination, perhaps. "Oh," she says, at Phara's comment, head shaking. "Not for me. One is--" Her cheeks are already beginning to flush, and not from embarrassment, this time, and her glass is not yet empty. "Tiriana-- oh. Yes, I can imagine she might," she tells R'uen, with the sage nod of someone who has met the girl in question. "Good luck with her." She grins at him, still (again?) amused.
"It itches. In places I can't scratch..." Sooz informs everyone oh so helpfully, in a grumpy voice, before staring at Fayre. No sweetner? Oh, Faranath. Oh, right. The other reason they are here. "Didja find anyone to your liking? And nothin' much - was just wandering the crafter stalls, checkin' things out."
Phara snorts at R'uen. "Jerk." She mutters good-naturedly. "I'll forgive you, you'd look rather silly with two black eyes, anyways." She twirls the stem of the wine-glass between her fingers, and nods quietly to Madilla, "Of course. Well, I wager I'll find some other good looking man to drink under the table if you're going to leave us, Rev."
Persie pats a hand dry and clean on her hip before offering it to Suizen, "I'm Persie," she grins. "New friend." Since the question was posed. "And you're Suizen. She's been looking for you." As if the screaming wasn't a clue. Of course she'll forget every name she's heard today by the time she gets home, but she at least pretends to catalog them.
Early on in the humdrum and buzz of excited voices, Fort's newest goldrider got lost amongst the throng, separated from the other weyrlings she had arrived with. Now, Berit surfaces near the dancing square with a tall, sandy-haired man and an attractive, buxom woman clinging to his arm. "I am quite flattered, but I do insist that you two enjoy yourselves," she can be heard to say with a warm smile and a flick of her fan towards the rotating couples on the man-made floor. They part with quiet words, the twosome aligning with the other dancing pairs, and the weyrling left standing by herself, idly watching the people passing by. She snaps her lace fan closed against the inside of her palm, her sage-green eyes searching the milling gather-goers. Someone, or something, finally catches her attention, and with a little satisfied smile, she grasps her skirt and starts to pick her way through the crowd. It is considerably harder to find one's way when one is so short, and as a consequence, she finds herself near the gambling table, brow puckered and mouth pouting as she tries to see over heads.
Spying P'draig's familiar form nearby, T'rien lifts his mug and calls out a hail toward the Fortian Weyrlingmaster. He doesn't seem too inclined to remove himself from his position on the grass, and seems rather comfortable with his posterior planted firmly on the ground.
A hand goes up, and mistaking, Leova pauses her meandering circuit to look back. "Evening, X'lar," she greets agreeably enough, adding for the other Istans, "...Everyone." And she stands there a moment, poised between staying into the next moment and abandoning ship.
P'draig's head turns as he hears his name called and steps out of the worst of the ebb and flow of traffic, grins as he spots T'rien and moves towards his fellow brownrider, dropping down into the grass beside him. "Hey Tri. Good Gather so far? It's been nice getting out of the Weyr for a bit."
"I have no doubt you will," R'uen is assured of Phara's man-finding abilities. "It's been lovely, ladies. Don't drink too much. And if you do, make sure the stories are good ones." He lifts his glass to them, a farewell, and then he heads off into the crowds to track down his missing girl.
"You see, gents. That's what I'm on about." N'thei leans back from the dice cup, shows the dots to the men all huddled around it, some groaning and some grinning. "Count them out, boys, I want to see the stacks all lined up in front of me like little victory towers," while he collects the marks from a careless pile into three neat little rows on the bench before him. "Girl, bring these lads some drinks, can't hurt their game any!" That last is barked at Berit off-handedly, pegging her as a booth-worker instead of a goldrider-- honest mistake.
"Oh, y'learn tricks to deal with that stuff." Fayre explains helpfully. To demonstrate, she brings her legs close together and wiggles a bit; her eyebrows raise upwards, as if to say 'see?'. Judging by how silly Fayre's move makes her look, it might be better to just scratch inappropriately. When her wiggling comes to an end, Fayre politely asks, "Where are ya from, Persie?" Sadly, she shakes her head at Suizen. "Nope. I haven't even been asked to dance yet. Ain't that a pity? Oh right!" She claps her hands together, her face flushing with the excitement of news to tell. "I did impress a new firelizard, though! A brown fella. He's napping by Lieryth now. Named him Ruken." She eyes Leova carefully when the greenrider approaches and she merely nods at her.
T'rien exhales slowly, seeming far more relaxed than he's been in...quite awhile. "It's good to get out of the weyr and indulge," he affirms. "I'm trying to motivate myself into getting up and doing some shopping but the ale is too tasty and the ground is remarkably comfortable."
P'draig leans back on his hands and laughs. "Yeah. Got my shopping done. Something new for Palia, some other gifts. Didn't do too badly on deals either. So I hear yo on comfortable grass, though I think I might have to remedy my ale-less state," Fort's Weyrlingmaster replies with a grin. "Which seller did you get yours from?"
"I jus' - I know I'm a rider, but I was a holder not so long ago and - I felt the same way 'bout Weyr people tha' they do. I jus' wanted t'dance. I ain' one o'those fast people we was always warned 'bout." Paige gets all of this out in a rush, hastily taking a gulp of water. "Guess ain' nothin' stoppin' me, " she says after a bit, "but - guess I better finish eatin' and let all tha' food settle 'fore I get back out there." And finally, she begins to put forth a better effort to make headway on her plate.
"That I'd like to watch," Madilla tells Phara, still grinning, of the bluerider's comment on drinking good looking men under the table, as R'uen leaves. "I suspect I'll be doling out a fair amount of hangover remedy in the morning." Her glass is transferred from one hand to the other, another careful sip taken from it as she glances around. "Are you going to dance?" she asks, head bobbing towards the dancing square.
T'rien takes a sip from his mug and thinks for a moment, glancing about until he finally remembers the direction of the proper stall. "Over that way," he points with his mug. "A local seller. Pretty good, too."
Phara chuckles, "And you may get to. Save a bit of that remedy for me, eh? I suspect you'll find me and Mr. Good-Looking slumped together under one of those tables with glasses still in hand." A smirk, and then a shrug, "Of course! Alone, if I have to!" Golden hued eyes slide towards her young companion, "And you, my dear? Going to take a swing on the arm of some nice boy?"
"Evenin' to yourself, Leova," X'lar replies to the Reachian greenrider, smiling briefly to her. His eyes glance toward N'thei and Berit, just laughing under his breath in amusement. The bronzerider offers to Paige: "He has a habit of making as many faux pas as I do, I think. Either that or he really is a misogynistic fool." He spots Fayre's reaction to Leova and frowns, but it's easily shaken off. "Bought anything along the crafter's row, Leova?" X'lar asks the amber-eyed greenrider. And look, the teenager looks remarkably unruffled. To Paige: "Good. You shouldn't ever let others dictate your actions. Do what you're going to do. Life's not going to stop. It's just going to go and go..." He pauses and grins once more, saying, "So if you feel like dancin', I'd be happy to dance with you when you're up to it, Paige." And with that, the Istan teen finally sits down.
P'draig follows the direction T'rien is pointing and nods. "Got it, hold the seat," he notes of the patch of grass he's sitting on and flashes his friend a smile as he pushes to his feet and heads that way. Doesn't take long to get a tankard for himself and rejoin the other Fortian on the grass, observing the comings and goings. "I hope the Weyrlings are having a good time too. Always good for them to get out too."
"High Reaches," Persie tells Fayre. "Well, for a few turns now. Fort before that but..." Not important. She waves it away with a hand. "Oh you two should just go dance." She says to both Istans. "You don't need to wait for some guy to ask you."
Madilla takes another sip from her glass - still going! - and, having swallowed, laughs. "I'll come looking for you," she promises, teasingly. "Alone? Really? I'd be too emabrrassed to do that. I don't... really know how to dance. Daegan promised me one, for the hatching feast, only I wasn't there in the end, and he wasn't up for it. I was hoping I might claim it off him tonight, but..." She shrugs. No Daegan to be seen. "I don't really know many other boys to dance with."
Suizen just sort of stares at Fayre for a long moment. "Riiight. Scratching at the itches, it is..." There is a pause, as she ponders how to put this, before she just comes out, "Fayre? You know I adore you, right? That... er... is rather like a little havin' to use the necessary." Or in other terms, the peepee dance. Persie gets a grin, "Nice to be meetin' you - I'll probably ask your name half a dozen times tonight, just to be warnin' you." And then to Leova, there's a grin, "'lo. Hope you know one of these nuts - otherwise, you might end up runnin'." So X'lar hasn't done anything. That just means the sentence is missing the 'yet'.
All that noise draws Berit's reluctant attention, and her focus shifts to the men gathered around the table. She is about to step over and peek at their sport when she is rudely called upon to service them all with drinks. Serving wench, indeed. Both fists come to plunk on her hips, her fan dangling from a ribbon at her wrist. "I surely will not do anything of the sort, and it would not hurt you to say 'please' or 'thank you' while you are about your ordering." She lifts her prim nose in the air, assuming a haughty pose. "Who are you anyway? Acting all high and mighty like you have the right to command peop" Her words are cut off as her eyes slide to his knot, and then they get very round. "Sir."
Phara laughs, "No trick to dancing alone. Tell you what, I'll teach you!" This wild, exhuberant proclaimation is accompanied by Phara wagging her hand at Madilla, palm up and fingers outstretched. "Really, it's fun." Her glass is set down hastily on a table occupied by a couple talking quietly. They look up at her in surprise and then shrug, leaning their heads in close again.
T'rien leans back on his elbows, looking a tad bemused at this point. "They seemed to be having a good time, from what I noticed. I was a bit preoccupied earlier but..." He lifts his shoulders in a slight shrug. "Brought Jerien with me," he announces. "His first gather. Jaenie got him off somewhere, probably buying him all those bubbly pies she told me not to get him."
Madilla blinks several times, fast, at Phara's sudden exuberance, glancing around this way and that as if to reassure herself that no one is-- staring? Laughing? Impossible to know. Finally, with an embarrassed grin on her face, she also sets her glass down, and accepts Phara's hand. "Okay," she says, finally. "Um. If you like."
Once X'lar is amiable to Leova, Fayre is too, as if permission to be friendly has been granted. Her expression softens and she smiles at the greenrider. "Ista's duties to everyone here, by the way." She listens to Persie with interest and craftily replies, "Lots of cool people seem to come from High Reaches." The goldrider raises her eyebrows and pauses for effect. "Get it? Cool? Like cold? Like how High Reaches is cold? Clever, right? But seriously, I've been meanin' to visit there more often." She frowns and smooths back her hair. "Hey, I ain't afraid to dance without a guy. Just didn't want to do it all by my lonesome, 'cause then I'd just look...well, real sad." Suizen earns herself a narrowed glare, but there's still a grin on Fayre's face. "See, that's what a good friend is. Honest. Guess I'm lucky that my dress ain't itchy, so I won't have to wiggle like that again. If there are no men we can drag onto the floor, wanna just dance with me, Sooz?" Her chestnut eyes still glance around the grounds, hoping to spot a someone or two to pull onto the square.
The general oooooh and ain't-she-uppity reaction is peppered with snickers and smirks while the dicing men have a gander at Berit's reaction, and N'thei leans back on his bench to eye her with an oh-really-now brightness to his smile. Arms folded, he sizes up the little girl tip of toes to top of curly head. Then she tacks on 'sir' and he grins all the wider. "So you still need who-are-you answered then?" He's guessing not.
Such a careful glance gets Fayre a second, brief look and a mild, "Congratulations," to go with it, though she skips the duties. Leova adds more generally, "Today was mostly looking, though I've an eye for something tomorrow, might be able to talk the price down better.... And we're acquainted. I'm Leova, green Vrianth's," and she offers Suizen her hand. "Back from when he was a weyrling, hm?"
Paige casts an alarmed look over to where N'thei and the other gamblers are engaged in their game, but it dissolves into amusement, despite herself, at Berit's posturing. Shoving a few more forkfuls of food down, she washes down her meal - more of a snack, really - by finishing off her glass of water, peering down to where her and D'kai's hatchlings are still curled up, shifting slightly to resettle themselves more comfortably in her lap while she eats. "I'll - take ya up on tha', " she says in reply to X'lar's offer, smile warming a bit. "Hopefully they won' be singin' 'bout shipwrecks anymore by the time I'm ready."
The grin on Phara's face would be hard-pressed to grow any larger than it has become. "I think I would. Really, everyone should know how to dance. It's easy. You just kinda.... back and forth." She doesn't bother with the dance square. The grass will do just fine. "Here, look. Put your other hand on my shoulder. I'll be the boy." She winks, moving to set her hand on Madilla's waist. "First, you put your right foot back - or is that forward?" She muses, and then giggles at herself. "Yes, I think it's back."
"Had Palia here for a bit," P'draig notes to T'rien from his spot on the grass and tips his tankard up. "Sent her off with my mother about an hour ago," he continues and has another sip. "Mm. Good stuff," he notes about the ale. "He's getting so big, Jerien. Time sure does fly, huh?"
Persie shares a wide grin with Leova as she comes into the immediate circle, but as her glass nears empty, she starts to get distracted from the talk around her. Rather than make any actual goodbyes to Fayre or Suizen, she slinks backward a bit and says only, "I think I need a refill," before slipping off into the throng once more.
T'rien nods, resting his mug on the ground for the time being. "Yeah. I was just thinking that a little bit ago. I can't believe I got so lucky as to have him in my life. Ah, there I go, getting all maudlin again. Must be the ale." He looks over at his friend and manages a smile. "Good thing I've only had this one."
Madilla's expression, while at first very clearly defined as 'maybe you are a lunatic after all', calms as she takes a deep breath, nods, and finally allows herself to, if not exactly match Phara's grin, at least emulate to a small degree. Still, her hand hesitates before it goes to rest upon the older girl's shoulder. Once there, however, her expression takes on a more serious, intent cant, as she diligently puts her right foot back. "Like this?" Wobble.
X'lar chuckles softly under his breath at hearing Leova's comments to Sooz, his attention returning to Paige, brows twitching upwards at her next comment about the singing. "Ship wrecks?" X'lar asks the Fortian green weyrling. "Bad experience?" This seems to make the teen's voice soften a touch, nodding to her. "I'm free whenver you feel like dancin', Paige," he adds. To Leova, X'lar nods again, offering to the Reachian greenrider, "Found something for my mum that I think she'd like. Good number of wares about though, makes me wonder if I shouldn't go back and see if I can find something for myself too."
Phara nods her head encouragingly, "Just like. And then I put my right foot forward." So much for leading. "And then you go.. um... to the right! So step back with your left foot, too, see? And then step again to the right." It's a good thing Phara doesn't teach dancing as a profession.
Neiravi has been in the background for a while, shopping and eating and caring for her surprise--the bronze fire-lizard hatchling she attracted in Crafter's Row earlier. Now she comes lightly down into the main courtyard, her practical garb exchanged for a simple little black dress, her long hair coiled and pinned into a chignon at her nape. The first thing she sees is Phara and Madilla having dancing lessons, and can only watch with a smile. "Walk in a box," she murmurs, remembering her own.
Haughtiness is traded for a repentant posture, head bowed and fingers toying with the front of her dress. She does not seem to mind the snickering or the smirks, but she tries not to sound too ashamed when N'thei asks the pressing question. "No, sir, and I apologize. I think you were mistaken. I am not.. no, my name I Berit," is released with a small sigh, and she bobs a quick curtsey. "Gold Zibeth's of Fort." Taking a guess, she says weakly, "And you are N'thei of High Reaches."
"Ditto about my kids," P'draig agrees with T'rien readily and rests his tankard lightly atop his knee, eyes scanning the dance floor. "Heh. There's a couple of weyrlings out there. Good. They're kicking up their heels," he notes, craning his neck a little. "Going to get there yourself?"
"I'll probably end up tryin' to break your feet, but if you wanna, Fay, I'm game.." Sooz agrees after a moment, before grinning at Leova, and meets palms, "I'm Suizen, of Ista, this is Fayre, you're knowin' X'lar, it sounds like, and that's... huh. Well, Persie's - that's her name, right? - is off gettin' something to drink, I think."
T'rien shakes his head. "Already been. Took Satiet for a twirl. Or, rather, she took me. Go figure." He lifts his mug once more and drains it. "I should probably go find Jaenie and do some of that shopping I was talking about."
"To the right?" repeats Madilla, a questioning note in her voice. "Okay." She does as told, though very slowly, her feet not quite getting tangled, though it's a very close call. "Are you sure this is how it goes? It feels very awkward," she tells Phara. A glance around results in her catching a glance of Neiravi watching, and her cheeks go pink. Hi?
"S'jus' ain' cheerful, " Paige explains of the concept of shipwrecks, putting her dish and glass aside after a bit. "Dancin' oughta be cheerful, yeah?" And as G'ben swaggers over to plop down next to her, perhaps in an attempt to gather gossip, she quickly passes the two firelizards off to him, leaving him there looking bewildered as she gets to her feet. "Er, shall we, X'lar?"
Phara frowns, "Well, no, I'm not precisely certain.. but it does feel awkward at first, really." She pauses, rubbing her chin, and glancing around. "Maybe it was you forward and to the left... or was it back and to the left?" And then she shrugs. "Oh well, as long as it's fun!" Neiravi is given a bright grin and a nod. No embarassment here.
Profanity clipped; suffice it to say, N'thei hasn't got the cleanest language. "You people are everywhere," he adds with a sigh when Berit confesses her name, her dragon's name, leading right into the conclusion of her rank. Standing, pocketing his marks, ignoring the snickers now aimed his way-- hah! she's a goldrider!-- he climbs over a couple of benches with a hand stuck out toward the girl. Justification; "Though you must be one of those booth wenches. Little and hanging around the edges of dice games."
P'draig nearly splutters his next mouthful of ale. "Satiet. Took you for a twirl?" Blink. "Well I'll be,' Paddy laughs out and grins over at his friend. "Good you got some dancing in though. And yeah, get it done while you can I guess," the Weyrlingmaster says, though he himself doesn't seem to be minded to move.
Leova's briefly distracted, giving Persie an admiring look to go along with that grin, for that dress, for those sparkly pink shoes. Turning back, though, "Nice to go to a Gather that's pretty far away, isn't it. Find her something she mightn't find on the island. More familiar faces than I'd expected, though. Along with the rest, of course..." She gives name-repeating a try. Soo-zen. Looks all hopeful, too, that she might have gotten it right. "Well met and all. And yes. Persie. Green Secath's, she's from my Weyr."
Fayre raises one of her feet to show off an orange closed-toe shoe. "Least I'm not wearin' my usual sandals, right? So I got some shieldin' if you step on my feet." She sticks out her arm towards Suizen with a smile. "Shall we?" One foot of hers begins to tap to the rhythm of the song as she gets ready to dance to the beat.
T'rien seems slightly clueless. He climbs slowly to his feet, stretching a bit as he rises. "She seemed nice enough. First time I've ever spoken to the woman. You know me and goldriders...I swear I've got a magnet in my pocket that just draws me right to them." Tapping his mug against his thigh, he tosses a grin down at his friend. "See you a bit later. I've some marks that are burning a hole in my pocket."
Madilla's expression is briefly pained, as Phara doubts her own instructions, but at the 'as long as it's fun' comment, she laughs, immediately looking more relaxed. "You're right, you're right. It's not about getting it /right/, necessarily." So: she keeps going, and sure, it's muddled, and really not very fluid, but... It works.
"Mm. Tell you a little about the Reaches sometime," P'draig tells T'rien and lifts his mug in farewell. "Good luck with the shopping. As for goldriders, mum's the word. See you later, T'ri."
Neiravi is trying not to smile too broadly, lest Madilla's cheeks explode. "No, she's right, it's easy," she assures the other girl. "You step in a box shape--right foot back, left to the side, and around and around in that shape. After a bit, your feet remember how, and you don't have to count the time."
X'lar glances to Sooz curiously, amused as she talks more to Leova. The latter is given another nod of greeting before returning his attention back to Paige. "Of course," X'lar offers to the Fortian green weyrling, nodding to her. The Istan rider gets up on his feet as well and begins walking toward the dancing square. "Hopefully I can keep up!" X'lar calls out to Paige, grinning wide. "I did some dancing before, last summer, so hopefully I remember how to do it!" That doesn't sound particularly promising, does it?
Suizen ahs, at Leova with a bit of a grin, "Clearly, I'm payin' attention tonight.. now? Well, alright then. And tell you what - I break anything in your feet, I'll make you a new pair of cups for your weyr.." she bargins with the goldrider, following her out to the dancing floor.
After some searching, apparently fruitless, R'uen ends up back by the dance floor on his own. His drink got lost somewhere along the line, too, and now he heads toward the stand to find himself a little more. Only a certain greenrider catch his attention. He keeps an eye on Leova as his path takes him closer to her, just in case she looks in his direction.
Confusion marks Berit's face, drawing her brows together. "I I am sorry?" She takes a step back, then another, as he comes forward, and only by focusing on the hand he holds out to her does she manage to stand what little ground she has left. "How do you do?" Her hand slips into his for the shake, a brief and subtle interlude. "I hope I did not interrupt.." Each man left at the table is given a quick, sparse glance in turn. "..your game." Turning back to N'thei and tilting her head back, she blinks up at the big man. "Booth wench? Why.. oh. I was looking for someone. I thought I saw.. I got lost," she finishes up lamely, looking away.
Phara grins at Madilla, "See, that's right. Now I'm going to step back and you're going to step forward, and then we're going to go left." She nods to Neiravi and waggles her eyebrows.
It takes a little while, what with the talking and all, but then the others are heading for the dance floor and Leova's nodding after them, and. Vest. That's what catches her eye, the angled patchwork and all, and only after a long fascinated moment does she look up to identify its owner. And then she laughs, and what with all the music and people, what she says is likely silent from that distance: Should have known.
Madilla, turning her head to look at Neiravi again, actually manages a smile this time. "A box shape? Oh - that makes sense. Thanks!" Her cheeks are still flushed, but no doubt that's as much to do with the wine she drank. "I'm going forward," she repeats after Phara, feet moving as she speaks. "And then we're going-- " She pauses, but recovers quickly, "Left, which is my left, right? Not yours." If she's wrong, there'll be a muddle - that's the way she goes.
Laughter announces T'rev's arrival, the bronzerider ambling along with a pair of riders from his wing, one each originating from Telgar and Fort. Jokes seem to be in the offing by the tenor of what the brownrider on the right says next. More shared laughter follows and T'rev claps each on the shoulder. "Catch you up for cards later, I'm goin' t'see about a drink and maybe a bit o'dancin'." So saying he cruises by one of the many drink-sellers, gets himself a mug of something dangerous and starts for the edge of the dance square.
Phara shrugs her shoulders and grins, "I dunno. The opposite of the way we went first, yeah? A box, right? So we went right, now we're going left." Makes sense to her. "And then, the big finish, yeah? The spin." She winks, raising the hand joined with Madilla's up slightly over the healer girl's head.
Interrupt? "You did." N'thei does't seem particularly sorry that she did, not really accusing so much as informing her, while he gives her hand a quick-firm-shake. Making nice, awww. And then a blunt admission after a few seconds of frowning at Berit's hemming and hawing, her looking away. "Liked your first reaction better, miss. Why are you the one apologizing." There's a very specific method there that turns what should be a question into a demand, some combination of flat-voice and hard-stare.
"Look at you all dressed up," R'uen says, his grin so wide and smug it might just hurt him a little. "You couldn't find someone's sweater to tie around your waist or something? Didn't want to wear a few more shirts, just to see if we could all get confused about where your middle is?" He slows as he nears her to add, "I'm getting a drink. Want one?" with a little tip of his head for her to join him if she likes.
Neiravi chuckles, nodding and keeping time with a tapping foot for Madilla and Phara. "There always has to be a spin," she agrees, straight-faced. "And a dip, but that comes a bit later. It just takes practice. Trust me, everyone else is as nervous as you." She does a little twirl herself, by way of demonstration.
Madilla just laughs at the confusion of it all, and obediently removes her hand from Phara's shoulder to execute the spin, her dark red skirt sweeping about and showing off a little bit of heavily booted ankle. "A dip, too?" she asks, turning to grin at Neiravi, laughing, as she breaks away from the spin. "I'm definitely going to need to practice all of this. I'm Madilla, by the way. And this is Phara."
A flash of someone tall and ungainly, blonde hair, chestnut curls, and flowing skirts catches the fledgling goldrider's attention and her eyes narrow at the sight. But, the vision is fleeting, and she still has N'thei to answer. "Because I am expected to." Her answer is blunt, a bit of wryness mixed into her own flat tone as she looks up at him. "I am a weyrling, and we have to give proper respect to our betters." Angling her head to the side, Berit lifts her narrow shoulders in a shrug. "Would you prefer that I insulted you, sir?" Another blink of those wide green eyes, real innocent-like.
Lovely answer. Except-- "Do you think I'm better than you." N'thei stands there, arms folded, every bit imposing, and puts to Berit a question that has no 'good' answer. So much for lovely froofy party times, huh.
Niena suddenly shakes her head, as if just waking up. She strokes the firelizard hatchling which no doubt contributed to the impromptu nap, then finishes the wine which also no doubt helped. She quickly looks around to get her bearings, watching the dancers as she had before.
Phara giggles, releasing Madilla and executing her own spin, making her dress flare out. "A dip? I think we'll save that for the boys to teach you." She winks at the dark Neiravi and then looks around. "Crowd seems to be thinning out. I'm for another drink. Either of you want anything? Madilla, juice?"
Neiravi comes out of her twirl into a curtsey. "Neiravi of Fort. Well-met, Phara and Madilla. You were in Crafter's Row, Phara, when the eggs hatched all over everything? I think I remember your necklace," she winks, "but I had a lizard trying to eat my fingers at the time." She brightens at the suggestion of a drink. "I've been good. I think I'll have a glass of wine."
Leova finds herself looking down, realizes, narrows her eyes back at R'uen by way of also forcing down the burn in her cheeks. In the end, she gives him back, breezily, "Couldn't find any along Crafter Row. Least, not one that didn't clash." The rest of her answer's served by taking up an easy walk next to him, something light enough to make her hems not swish too much. "Did you have a vest like that when you were littler, help your mother find you in a crowd?"
And what a question that is. Berit hesitates for a fraction of a second, before saying carefully, "I do not know you well, sir, so I cannot say what you are or what you are not." That satisfies her enough, but will it satisfy him? She watches him curiously, no hint of sarcasm or malice in her open expression.
"But you just said your betters." N'thei raises his eyebrows like that's a question, except it's not, and he moves on without enough of a pause that she could even answer it if it was one. Really, he's still disappointed at the change from hands-on-hips to all-apologies. "Congratulations at your Impression, Berit of Fort, I wish you the best of luck."
"I'll just have to walk up to one of them, and demand to be dipped," jokes Madilla, eyes bright from the amusement and exercise of it all. "I-- juice, please? That would be lovely, thank you." She grins at Neiravi, brows raising slightly. "Well met. You got one of the firelizards? I saw them, but I was helping Journeywoman Delifa, so I didn't get any closer than that."
"As if my mother would ever misplace me," R'uen returns, an eye for Leova's cheeks. "Having a good time tonight? Buy anything nice?" And also, as they near the drink stand, "Want my vest? Cover up a little more?" He lets his gaze skim down over her ensemble again, might as well get a clue what she looks like while he can.
"White or red?" Queries Phara, but is nodding and touching her necklace proudly. "Yes, I was there. You Impressed one, right? Don't care for the things, myself, but they seem to make folks happy so I guess i can't fault them there." She nods again to Madilla and heads of for that drink. She comes back, juggling a glass of redfruit juice, the wine (in whatever color Neiravi prefers) and - finally - her tropical beverage. "Perhaps you should. How about that one." She points, playfully, to one of the lads sitting idle around the gather ground.
Much like a fish out of water, Berit opens her mouth and closes it several times, stunned out of her wits by the abrupt response and departure. She tries to blink away her confusion, but ends up turning to watch the Reachian walk away, her head tilted to the side. "What a strange man," she can be heard to murmur to herself, a flicker of disbelief in her green eyes. Shaking her head, she turns back.. and, oh! Dice tables! This is her chance to edge closer.
P'draig spends a little more time getting acquainted with that ale, drinks the tankard down to empty and then pushes to his feet, catches sight of someone he was keeping an eye out for and face wreathed with a smile, slips off in that direction, lost soon in the crowd.
"Fine, fine, maybe not /accidentally/." Leova leaves off teasing R'uen long enough to get a better look at the harpers, check for Rhonda, but no luck. Distractedly, "Good time, waiting for tomorrow," and suddenly she's no longer giving him a sideways look and walking a half-step closer, a half-step slower, both designed to block his view a little better. "No, no, keep your clothes on. Besides, I like it. /Looks/ like something you'd wear."
N'thei strolls off, turning a grin into his collar, buttoning his vest. Good party.