[Log] Here for the Party

[brazenbronzer]

Who: Ailani, Brijana, Claret, Devany, Iestyn, R'dur, Sorren, Tegara, Z'nal
When: Day 26, Month 3, Turn 8
Where: Living Cavern, Telgar Weyr
What: R'dur hosts a dinner for Telgar's latest batch of candidates.

Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern
     This huge cavern is sufficiently roomy to hold a large portion of the Weyr's population without feeling cramped. There's always a bustle of activity here. Fragrant dishes are constantly in prepartion for mealtimes: currently for the evening meal. Drudges are always present, either cleaning under Pierron's watchful eye, or helping fetch and carry. A myriad of glowbaskets and many ever-lit hearths make the cavern warm and inviting despite its size. The scents of cooking meats, baking breads and pastries, and the pungent aroma of spices hang mouthwateringly in the air. It is little wonder that those seeking to relax nearly always find their way here to do it. The tables are decorated with a multitude of bright spring flowers.
     A short tunnel jaunts northward out to the bowl and the merry sounds of cooking, chores, and laughter echo from the kitchen at the southeast end of the cavern near the easterly passage to the rest of the lower caverns. Within the lower caverns is an entrance to the infirmary weyr to care for injured dragons and riders.

Contents:
PLAYERS: R'dur Pierron
OTHER: Telgar Serving Tables

Obvious Exits:
Inner Caverns Kitchen Bowl

Sorren comes in from the kitchen, clean and pristine, and wiping her hands on a napkin. She hums a little tune as she walks in.

The living cavern of Telgar Weyr has been generously redecorated for the evening, in cheerful spring colors. The serving tables at the front of the room boast more food than usual, and a couple of cooks are just bringing out the last couple of steaming-hot dishes. Over to the side, a space has been cleared of tables to serve as the dance floor; a trio of harpers are already tuning their guitars on the stage.

In the midst of all this is R'dur, finely dressed and running around like a chicken with its head cut off. The cooks are mostly ignoring him by now as he wrings his hands and frets, just generally making a nuisance of himself as he tries to make sure everything is absolutely perfect for the first candidates just beginning to trickle in.

Sorren looks at all the people gathering, and finds a nice quiet corner to sit.

Looking tidier than usual, his clothes less loose on his thin frame, Iestyn hovers hesitantly in the tunnel from the lower caverns until a jostle from a female candidate behind him forces the young man into the lights and bright, spring decorations. Once within, the lanky man presses himself to a wall to avoid being nudged over by a drudge intent on relinquishing his serving platter, and rakes his fingers through his hair, a la nervous habit. As the girl who jostled him slips by his side, the blonde tips his head down. His wry and easy comment of, "Can't 'magine what a special dinner's for. Yay us, for mucking the stables?" elicits giggles from his companion.

Z'nal strides casually into the cavern, offering a lopsided grin and nods of acknowledgement to those who greet him. He looks very at ease in the formal clothes of the evening, despite rarely wearing such finery. Ale would be his beverage of choice and after a few stops to speak politely to folks, makes his to grab a mug of his favorite beverage, though he does toss a more than curious look at the foodstuffs available.

Though Claret has taken unusual care with her attire, this care does not seem to have extended to anything more than her appearance, for she wends her way into the living cavern in her typical, distracted fashion. On such a night, she very nearly causes several unfortunate collisions before she finally pauses to look around and take stock of what's going on.

Only once some of the candidates have arrived and started milling does R'dur settle, pausing in his pacing between kitchens and serving tables to tug at his shirt and straighten himself up. Deep breaths, R'dur, deep breaths. Finally, calmed thusly, he steps forward to greet the guests, somehow contriving to keep his voice steady. "Ah, welcome, everyone, to Telgar's candidate dinner," he begins, raising his voice slightly. A peek at the small scrap of hide in his hands before he continues. "Our kitchens have outdone themselves--" a few giggly cooks preen at the door to the kitchens, while R'dur gestures to the tables "--so grab a plate and enjoy. We'll have music and dancing later, courtesy of the Harper Hall." A gesture to the harpers. Finally: "So, ah. Welcome to the dinner, and please, enjoy." And somehow, he doesn't quite collapse after that speech.

Sorren smiles as R'dur gives his speech, clapping quietly when he is finished. She takes a moment to look at all the decorations and people, looking a bit on the nervouse and wall-flowerish side of things. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, nodding and smiling to a passing fellow candidate as she does.

Tegara has been standing quietly off to the side, watching the proceedings and clapping almost boisterously at the end of R'dur's speech. A smile and a nod to Claret and a quick, almost shy glance at the quiet Sorren.

With faux gallantry, Iestyn holds his arm out for the girl by his side, and with a flash of a mild smile that threatens at the corners of his eyes to grow given any kind of encouragement, he gestures, "I suppose that's the cue to go eat-," except, poor lad, a spare second too slow as the prettily dressed young woman is off with her little group of friends, and after staring a moment at the empty space next to him, the Lemosian candidate begins steps towards the serving tables. On the way, he passes by R'dur, slowing his steps to give the man a sympathetic look, and a query, "Did you do the decorations yourself, sir?"

Instead of applause, Z'nal salutes R'dur with his mug of ale, calling out a "well said" to the nervous seeming man, which is followed by a reassuring smile though the Telgari brownrider might not see it. He takes a long sip of his drink, regarding the comings of people, eyes lingering a bit on those with candidate knots, head canting slightly as he takes their measure before moving off to join a smaller group of folks who seem to be engaged in some wagering, or at least speaking of it.

Claret watches R'dur with some interest while he gives his speech, probably waiting to see if that collapse does occur. When it doesn't, however, she's cheerful enough in turning her attention back to the rest of the cavern. It's a couple of those quiet bystanders upon which her attention falls, and she returns Tegara's smile and nod with bright ones of her own, which she then throws over to Sorren. Gesturing expansively towards the serving tables all the way, she only makes it half way to the other greenrider before she stops in her tracks and turns to continue waving at Sorren. And hopefully not hitting anyone. "C'mon, c'mon! He said eat, after all."

Meticulously dressed, as always, a cloud of gold lace and creamy chiffon drifts in from the bowl, the young woman's backwards glance somewhat murderous for the chill without. Once the weather has been scolded to her satisfaction, even if it were only a death stare, Brijana waltz herself through the crowd, weaving her striking figure in and about until she's honed in on one nervous looking man. Honing in and attaining, however are too different things as Bri gets distracted on the way by an out of the way girl, and flashes Sorren a pretty smile. "Hey," is her cheerfully sweet voice, "Welcome to Telgar."

R'dur, after stuffing his hide in his pocket and wiping his hands off, glances around at Iestyn. He blinks blankly, then breaks into a sheepish grin, shaking his head. "Ah, no, actually, I didn't. Sabi was kind enough--" suuuure "--to offer to handle them. I, uh. Well, decorations aren't my thing, really--you should see my weyr. If it weren't for Brijana..." He trails off, expression finishing the statement for him. "But, ah. Go ahead and get yourself a plate, Iestyn--we've plenty," finishes the rider, ushering the candidate toward the serving tables.

Slightly unkempt, her clothing still shedding black grains from the hatching sands, Ailani pauses at the doorway to try to bring some kind of order to her appearance. She's underdressed for the occasion and looks vaguely harried, but she manages a smile for those assembled once she does make her way further in. "Hello, everyone."

Sorren waves to Claret as she catches her waving at her, with a nervous smile, and then her attention is diverted to the beautifully dressed Brijana, and nods a greeting. "Aye, thank you, ma'am." she says in a sweet, reserved tone. "I am very happy to be here."

In a cavern as large as the living caverns, it's difficult to ascertain just how Iestyn heard Claret. Maybe the greenrider's voice was just that loud, or her expansive gestures were distracting enough to pull his attention away from the riveting conversation with R'dur. In whatever case, the once carpenter turns to spy out Avrieth's rider, that look of sympathy for R'dur quickly fading out into a mild look, familiarity and bemusement written all over his face, before he returns to the brownrider. "Ah, Sabi. I /am/ surprised she's not the first here to flutter over her decorations, but maybe she'll make her entrance later. Yes, sir," the latter said quickly, as the growing line at the serving tables, and the possibility of food disappearing too quickly, distracts him.

"Mmmm," distracted in intonation, the look Bri affords Sorren is the scrutinizing look of someone doing a mental makeover of the visuals before her. "The Weyr's such a grand place compared to where my family is. And R'dur," mocking fondness laden in that brightly, welcoming voice of her, "Plucked me from obscurity so I could stay. Where are you from originally?" Ailani's entrance doesn't go unnoted, the social butterfly always on the look out for the faces most familiar to her, and with an easy wave for the young weyrwoman, she calls over, "Ailani! I didn't get to tell you congratulations yet."

Making her way in from the inner caverns, Devany still wears a light, decorative shawl over her shoulders as if she's not been inside overly long. Or perhaps the Bollian is still fighting to ward off the chill of Telgar compared to her home that she keeps it in place. With an easy grace, she steps to the side once through the doorway, to allow others their chance to come and go unobstructed as she quietly searches the faces of those already in attendance.

Tegara falls into line behind the candidates and shuffles her way forward towards the buffet tables, nervously smoothing the soft woolen fabric of her moss-green Gather dress. "Things look great, R'dur," she compliments her clutchmate, then turns to watch Ailani's hasty arrival. "Good thing greens don't clutch," she mutters under her breath as she starts to fill her plate, flashing a winning smile at a bluerider who has caught her attention. Now, time to eat and mingle and get a measure of the current batch of candidates.

"She's probably," R'dur notes long-sufferingly, "going to be fashionably late, to awe us all with her dress." He shakes his head, then glances to Iestyn again before he motions the man once more to the serving tables, with, "I don't think I can eat right now--I should, er, schmooze, anyway." The thought of R'dur schmoozing is rather comical, however, though the wingsecond does step aside toward another familiar face. As he's not yet noticed Brijana moving through the crowd--bad weyrmate!--he focuses instead on Z'nal. "Good evening, sir," he greets the other brownrider. "How are you doing? Don't let that be all you get, please--we really do have plenty," urges the man, gesturing to Z'nal's ale. And: "Oh, Tegara! Hi, how are you?" he diverts attention to his clutchmate with a smile.

Ailani's smile lights in genuine pleasure at the familiar voice and she, too, waves and heads in Brijana's direction. "Thanks," she says first, brow furrowed briefly in what seems to be embarrassment. Then, a rueful look at her clothes, and she adds, "I should've asked for your help with a dress - I didn't think I'd be quite so out of place, though. So different to see all of them - all of you," she adds hastily, looking Sorren's way, "in non-work clothes."

Z'nal gives a rumbly chuckle to the man whose shoulder he's cuffing in a good natured way, noting, "well if Uralth gives me any indication which egg will crack first or what will emerge from it, I'll be sure to let you all know," the glint in his eye teasingly suggesting he'll do no such thing of course, but the group he's with knows this and laugh along with him. "Thank you R'dur, no worries about me, I'm sure my mug will keep itself full somehow," is said pleasantly to the Telgari brownrider before his gaze shifts over to the entrance to the living cavern and spotting Devany, he begins to make his way towards her after excusing himself from the group he's with. He gives a warm smile to Sorren, who had caught his eye earlier and calls over a greeting of "good evening" to Ailani, his eyes glancing down at her boots for whatever reason, then he approaches the Boll Steward, offering her a gentle hand to hold as well as a quietly said, "good evening to you too. You look lovely."

Sorren smiles up at Brijana, patting a place next to her at the table she's occupying if she's like to sit. "I'm from Tillek, originally. Claret was the one what searched me." She seems to notice the scrutiny and shuffles a bit at her own plain clothes and appearance. "Your dress is so lovely!" she comments. "I

Claret places herself in that lengthening line, and for all her demonstration, she doesn't manage to be anywhere near the front. She's easily enough distracted from this predicament of having to wait for food, and she turns this way and that, looking to see who else is near in line. That cheerful smile is back when she spots Iestyn, and she offers a wiggle of her fingers and a "Hullo!" by way of greeting. By the time she actually reaches the table, she's distracted herself thoroughly enough that the food she piles onto her plate is haphazard.

Sorren grabs a spot on the bench at the Candidates' Table.

Bri smiles, indulgent for Ailani's social faux pas, and at the compliment to her taste, presses down the folds of her cream gown. There's a preen somewhere in the draw back of her slender shoulders. "Next time," the assistant headwoman promises, her hand reaching over to try and pick some invisible lint off of the goldrider's attire. "Oh, can you save that place for me?" An effusive smile turns on Sorren, "I'd like to do a round of chatting and grabbing some food before I settle in. And-," the young woman pauses a moment before the smile widens into a grin, "I'm not a candidate, but Claret's pretty and pretty nice, even though her weyrma-, well- I'm sure you'll find out soon enough."

Slipping into the line just behind Claret, Iestyn turns to watch, distracted again by the sight of their nervous candidate coordinator seeming to turn more and more nervous with each passing minute, and shakes his head. "I imagine unless someone plies him with something to drink, he'll be on his feet all night," is his low murmur for Claret's benefit, and then is once again distracted by the way and amount of food piled on the greenrider's plate. His own plate gathering is neater, each slice of herdbeast contained in its own space, the vegetables not cavorting with the meat enemy, and a dinner roll placed atop the meat to soak in gravy. Still keeping his voice low, the hesitation on broaching the subject transparent in wide-set eyes, he inquires, "Are candidates welcomed like this every time there's a clutch?"

Spotting her weyrmate, just before he reaches her, ends Devany's searching as she takes his appearance in and gives an appreciative smile even as she takes his hand in hers, "And I'm reminded we need to dress you up more often." Her smile takes a faintly lopsided tilt before she adds on, "And thank you." For the compliment, might be inferred, though she fails to clarify as she queries instead, "I hope I've not kept you waiting too long, Zain?"

R'dur regards Z'nal dubiously, but he does nod, at least, as the other man moves off. This gives him the opportunity to turn more attention to the other guests. A familiar figure, then, attracts his attention, and with a grin, he sets off after Brijana. Stopping just behind her, R'dur announces his presence with a mild, "Boo," before casting a smile to her companions. To the rest of them: "Ah. Good evening, everyone."

Sorren sighs as Brijana walks away, trying to take all the people in, as her head turns this way and that, looking, seeing, smiling and waving at one person or another, before giving up and focusing on the harpers with a contented smile. She plays idly with the remnants of her small piece of cake.

Z'nal bows with a flourish at her compliment, managing to hold onto her hand and not spill his ale before saying as he rises, "not at all Devany, I'm just glad that you're here and were able to get away from your duties at Boll. It really was a nice surprise that you could come back earlier than expected." A quick, yet tender kiss to her hand and he adds, "I overheard that one of the candidates is from Tillek. She looked vaguely familiar, thought we'd go over and see if we know one another...perhaps get you something to drink first though?"

"Next time," Ailani confirms and, once Brijana moves away, the young weyrwoman simply stands there for a moment, lips pursed. "She's quite lovely, but sometimes... well, exhausting. I'm Ailani, by the way," is added for Sorren and anyone else who might be nearby.

Even if Claret were close enough to hear her name being mentioned--or the beginning of a remark about her weyrmate--she probably wouldn't notice, for in the midst of her enthusiastic plate-piling, Iestyn's murmur catches her attention, and she sends another interested glance towards R'dur. "Oh, he's always like that, isn't he? Well, I guess, not always. You could," she offers to the candidate, grin tilting. "Think you'd get in much trouble?" From the coordinator, her gaze moves on to survey the rest of the room, and she nods, responding less quietly to Iestyn's question. "Sure. When I was a candidate, it was outside. In the winter! We about froze. That was maybe less exciting." Plate now more than full, she steps away from the table.

Light on her steps, a simple bounce takes Brijana from the side of the clutch dam's rider to startling a step forward at the soft 'Boo' behind her. But there's immediate recognition and a sappy smile that finds the young woman's face as she doesn't even need to turn to return that step back into R'dur's side. "This," she waves her hand around to indicate the well-festooned cavern, "I can forgive you for ignoring me and fretting for days since it turned out so splendidly." Leaning in, the assistant steals a kiss from the brownrider's cheek and gestures, "You haven't eaten yet, right? Let's go get food together and I promised her, oh dear, I forgot her name, the girl next to Ailani, I'd take those empty seats near her."

Tegara smiles and nods. "I've been fine," she manages to squeeze in before the brownrider's attention is distracted yet again. Picking up a glass of red wine she hunts for a spot at the table. She spies Sorren, the shy one, newly abandoned by Brijana. "So like her," she snorts, shaking her head. At the sound of Ailani's voice she turns her head. "Oh, hi there," she says with a wave. "How's Soraeth doing?" She then turns her attention back to Sorren. "Hi, she says softly, with a gentle smile. "I'm Tegara, rider of green Riaceth. Mind if I join you?" For in Sorren the greenrider sees a ghost of herself as a Candidate.

Sorren focuses on Ailani and Tegara as she hears the nearness of two voices, turning with a congenial half-smile to both. "I'm Sorren" she says, nodding in greeting. "Nice to meet you both" is added over the local din. "Please do, come sit. I feel so awkward talking like this with all the people" she says with a sheepish smile.

In wait for the greenrider, he's long since filled his plate sparsely, Iestyn takes a step back to allow Claret more room to maneuver, before returning to her side to continue the light conversation. "It seems strange, very strange, to welcome candidates in this way. I can't," he smiles sheepishly, the duck of his head hiding the beginnings of rose on his cheeks, "Say it's not nice to be so well thought of by the Weyr as a group, but I can't remember a time at the Woodcraft we celebrated new apprentices. And I certainly can't imagine eating out in the winter air." With one hand balancing his plate, "Did you mind company for dinner, or had any particular table in mind to," his ducked head lifts, the glittering brown faintly shy for his somewhat bold self-invitation.

Chuckling at his display, and prowess in avoiding the mess of a spilled drink, Devany murmurs quietly, "I'd told you before, I'd do my best to make it. And lady Dyane has been ever so understanding. I expect I'm indebted to her even more now, but.." But she hardly seems to mind that prospect any more than she minds waiting on a drink; for the honey blonde merely suggests with a smile, "Oh, I'm fine for now, Zain. We could meet her first if you like, and then pick something up after?"

"Ah, Sorren?" volunteers R'dur, as he glances back over his shoulder at the candidate as he lets Brijana steal him away. "I'm not sure I can. My stomach's still in knots," he admits. "But, really? You think it's nice?" A smile brightens his expression as he steps forward to the serving tables, attaching them to the end of the line. "What would you like? I'll get it--we have all sorts of different things tonight. The cooks, I think they're as happy as I am to get it over with--I've been driving them up the wall over the menu all day," he admits.

In the background, the harpers, who were among the first to take advantage of the meal before their time to entertain comes, have finished their meals and pick up instruments, beginning to play a soft series of tunes as background for the ongoing dinner as more people take advantage of the kitchens' bounty. As yet, there's only a couple of pairs at the edges of the floor dancing lightly, though the eager looks of some of the Weyr's residents promises more to come, when they've ate their fill.

"Broth then," Brijana states firmly, somehow managing to steer R'dur without putting an arm at his elbow or overtly directing him in any direction. "Stew too, with bread soaked in it, and lots of wine." The last is added in a most critical fashion, as if the wound up state of her weyrmate just won't do. "Ah, Sorren," stealing a glance backwards, Bri watches Tegara take up a place closer to the table and satisfied the wall-flowerish girl is taken care of companion-wise, the ruddy-haired beauty turns to focus the entirety of her expansive attention on the brownrider. "You're a wonder, and I'm so pleased you dressed nicely tonight without my help. I'm so pleased you aren't fat like some brownriders."

Z'nal nods to the Boll Steward in reply and entertwines the fingers of their hands as he leads her over to the candidate's table, his head bent towards her as he whispers conversation as they move through the gathered. Upon reaching their destination, he smiles warmly at the table in general and asks politely, "mind if we join you all?" His gaze falls on the candidate and its through a lopsided grin that he asks and notes further, "did I hear correctly that you're from Tillek? I'm also from there."

Claret ducks by a few people, somehow managing not to lose any of the food off her plate. This isn't helped much by the fact that she keeps turning to look at Iestyn as he speaks, or as she speaks, remarking, "Would you rather we hazed you all and made you run laps around the drill and starve you?" Claret asks with interest. "If so, I must say, you're much more peculiar than I thought you were. Which is all to the good. It's mostly great fun. After all, candidates are as important as... Plants. Or something. You know, what you can't do without." Having pronounced that little analogy, she gestures to the candidate table where Tegara and Sorren sit, moving to plop herself down. "Mind? Of course not."

"Bri, play nice," R'dur says, without any trace of anger, at that gibe at his wingleader. He's grinning, though, running a hand across his shirt in pleasure. "Thank you, though. Without your help, hmm? If you say so. Are you going to force me to dance tonight, too? But. Hmm. Let's see--" Like a good kept man, he prepares a meal for Brijana just as she directs, even down to the pair of wine glasses (though he frowns at that, and shakes his head). "Well, all right. Are you sure this is enough? You should eat more than this, really. St'vren will hurt me if you starve to death," he worries, most unnecessarily--nevermind he's not taken anything for himself except the drink, Brijana is the one in danger of wasting away. "But. Well, shall we?" He gestures awkwardly to the tables, to let Brijana take the lead.

"Watch ou-." As his warning goes unneeded, the young man makes an attempt to keep up with the greenrider. But bafflement stops him in his tracks and Iestyn stares at Claret's back for her stream of words, until another jostle jolts him back to striding quickly to catch up with the greenrider. "Plants?" is all he says, struggling to keep a hold of some strand of non-puzzlement.
Sorren looks up at Z'nal, her hazle eyes brightening. "Really? Yes, yes . . . I am from Tillek. Me and my family. " she trips over how silly that sounded. "well, of course my family." she says, embarrassed at herself.

Magnanimously, Bri allows R'dur to carry the food and his own glass, while she claims hers for herself. "I eat enough," her toothy smile flashing prettily to her weyrmate. His rebuke goes ignored, as does his comments on her brother. "Though, earlier, I was sure I could finish an entire pan of sweetrolls, Adele just gave me a look though. I'm not sure our Headwoman understands the beauty of a perfectly made sweetroll. Is that the clutchsire's rider?" Her blithe chatter continues as they return to the table, trailing off into a quieter question as she spies out Z'nal. "I don't think I've seen him yet." And while the man's rank hasn't been confirmed, a critical light hits Brijana's typically warm brown eyes. "He's dressed well," are her last low words before the young woman's clear voice calls out another greeting, "I leave for a moment and all the seats are taken, anywhere to squeeze us in?" That flirtation touches the smile that curls her lips, especially as it skips across some of the candidates as well as Z'nal, is an understatement.

With the fingers of one hand laced through his, Devany's free hand reaches across herself to rest lightly on Z'nal's arm as she's led. An easy, understated gesture that lasts through their conversation and until they stop at the table where they pause to converse. Allowing her escort to take the lead in the conversation, she settles with a simple, informal greeting to those there of, "Good evening."

Z'nal drops his gaze as he notes the candidate's embarrassment, probably to give her a little time to gather herself as he notes, "well, sometimes its not always the case? Take me for instance. My family lives at and works out of the Seacraft Hall. I was fostered out to, well, another family at Tillek when I was 10 for...reasons I won't speak of here." He lifts his eyes, a gesture accompanied by a sheepish grin and then a glance at the honey blonde he's with, then, "mind if I ask what you and your family did at the Hold. I'm Z'nal, by the way, was Zainal before impressing brown Uralth at Igen and may I introduce Devany, the Steward of Southern Boll and my weyrmate." He smiles warmly at the woman he had introduced with his words, then smiles broader at Brijana's and R'dur's approach, nodding towards two chairs next to the ones he's claimed for himself and Dev.

Claret slides herself into a seat, at long last, setting her plate down on the table with a little clatter. A bit of food does come tumbling off, which she less than surreptitiously places back on the edge of her plate. "Yeah, sure, plants," she repeats, gesturing for him to join. "Completely necessary. And useful. And great and all that. Not that I'm overly fond of plants. They're good to eat. But if you had none and they suddenly appeared when you most wanted them, wouldn't you celebrate?" And in all of this, she throws a little wave at Tegara and Sorren.

"Well met," Ailani says to Sorren, smiling, and to Tegara, she comments, "Soraeth's fine, thanks." Claret's discussion of plants prompts a quick, confused glance in that direction, then she murmurs her excuses and slips away toward the food table.

"So much for your seat-saving," R'dur remarks with a smile as he trails Brijana, stuck with the heavier load. "Ah. Hmm. Yes, that's him," he adds, following her gaze to Z'nal. At the table, he sets everything down at one end of the crowd, nevermind Brijana's insistance on 'squeezing in'. "The headwoman, I'm sure, appreciates them; she just... knows when /not/ to. We'd have none left for tonight if you'd had your way, I'm sure," he teases Brijana. And, to the table at large, he offers a nod and a quiet, "Good evening, again."

Sorren nods in greeting to Z'nal and Devany, a little overwhelmed, but holding strong. "My parents were, well, my father was a masterfisher, his name was Gorgy, and my mother was a weaver, Carolen. They died at sea a while back . .Oh, I'm Sorren, a pleasure to meet you." She gives a wry smile at her own social nervousness. "For some reason, you /do/ look a bit familiar, Z'nal" she says, with respect in her voice.

The harpers, by this point, are in fine form, striking up cheerful dance numbers for the growing crowd on the floor. Some of the younger guests are attempting a vigorous toss dance, with dubious results but much giggling. Interspersed with these fast songs are a couple of slower ones, serving to let the dancers catch their breath for another go at it.

"I-," Iestyn halts and measures his response by nervous beats of his fingers against his legs. "I think I understand. And candidates are needed by the Weyr so there's a celebration." Through the maze of muddled logic, the Lemosian gamely makes an attempt at understanding and with uncertainty, lifts his gaze to find Claret's before food becomes a far more attractive, and less head-muddling, option to focus on. "Good evening," he tacks on, before making neat inroads into his dinner.

Perhaps this is Bri's way of making R'dur eat, but soon after arriving, the assistant headwoman turns to whisper directly into her weyrmate's ear, perhaps soft words of nothing, but more likely a parting as soon after, the leggy woman is floating her way towards the kitchens, where presumably some duties await.

You sense Brijana murmurs, the wink audible rather than seen due to the proximity of her face to his ear, "Don't waste the food, dear."

Devany gives a dry chuckle at Z'nal's explanation or lack there of revolving around his fostering. His glance her way is met with amusement and it would seem almost an effort on her part that she refrains just then from a comment in the matter and settles for an easy smile and a polite nod as she's introduced, "Well met, Sorren." Her gaze was shifting back to Zain as that's said, his warm regard returned, but only until the other sinks in and she turns back, "You lost them both at sea? Oh my."

"But--" R'dur begins to protest to Brijana, frowning. "All right. I'll see you later." He sighs, gives the food a dark look, before shrugging. He scoots a little ways away to give the others more room--no need to crowd, there's a whole living cavern out there. He winds up nearer Claret and Iestyn, and when he realizes that, he goes ahead and scoots on down to join them. "Ah, good evening, Claret. Iestyn, again. Do you mind if I join you? My company seems to have fled," he notes, with a wry glance back at the kitchens.

Claret is cheerfully oblivious to any strange glances sent her way, and before she starts in on her meal, she makes another attempt to clarify. "Something like that. Also we like you. In general. I think. I mean, individual opinions apart. Like how everyone has a certain meal that they don't like sometimes. Not that you're food. Well, not that anyone here is going to eat anyway." The words pile up on each other, and Claret finishes with a shrug and a smile, turning her attention to her plate, which she seems to really regard for the first time. "Gosh. This is a problem. Oh, hullo, R'dur! You ought to sit down, we wouldn't want you to fall over."

A flicker of sympathy passes over Z'nal features, shadowing the understanding nod and smile he gives the female candidate, his eyes glancing askancely at his weyrmate before he says Sorren, "I'm so sorry for your loss, not easy losing a parent, much less two at once." He slips into silence for a moment, not an awkward one, more respectful, then, "well, if your father was a Masterfisher, its possible that he knew my father, who is also a Masterfisher. Dainus, by name, we might have known eachother as children at some point, gotten into trouble together, for as any will tell you, *that* is what I was a master at in my youth." He winks at the honey blonde and chuckles, giving his head a shake, "well met in any case Sorren."

Obligingly, Iestyn makes room for the arrival of the coordinator. "I do understand, it's a bit odd, I admit, but no odder than believing wood has feelings." He steals a look to the greenrider, sharing a smile should Claret's deviating attention happen to catch it. "What do you think, ma'am?" Catching the puzzlement of Ailani's expression, the blonde man lifts a forkful of greens to the weyrwoman, "Are candidates as needed as plants or food?"

Sorren smiles and shakes her head at Devany's inquiry and Z'nal's sympathies as if to say it is okay. "It's been a while, since they've been gone." she reassures. "The name doesn't sound familiar, but you do indeed look like someone . . .possibly" she thinks. "I was always working, helping my mother and the such." she admits, not being able to place her recollection.

R'dur settles into a chair near the pair, arranging his passed-off dinner neatly in front of him. "Well, all right. If you insist," he agrees as he joins them. "I see you're still all right, and Sorren, and T'bay at least at drills, so perhaps there was nothing too horrible under the tables?" he tells the greenrider. "I scrubbed under Thunderbolt's the other day, at any rate, to make sure it was safe--and I'm certain it was the worst, by far. I doubt it'd ever been cleaned." His brows, though, knit at Iestyn's question to Ailani, and he glances curiously at the weyrwoman without volunteering his own answer.

"Only in your youth, Zain?" Her look to him, like her tone, taking on the air of incredulous, "Trouble follows you, nipping at your heals and tripping up those about you if they aren't careful and leave themselves open to being caught unaware." So much for Devany refraining from teasing the man at her side. Then more seriously she suggests, "Perhaps she knows Bornus, if not you directly. Or you just saw each other in passing from time to time that you seem familiar to each other."

Ailani, having just retrieved a glass of cold juice, pauses with said glass halfway to her mouth and blinks owlishly at Iestyn a moment. "Plants or food...? Well, er, I'm not sure about food - the taste and everything," she adds, though she sounds rather unsure of herself, and glances over at R'dur in a mute appeal for help.

Claret doesn't miss the smile that Iestyn offers, and a responding grin tugs at her own lips. She opens her mouth to disclaim, but gets sidetracked by R'dur's observation, which is a far more pressing issue to the health and sanity of many present. She pauses in her meal for a second to give herself, R'dur, and Sorren a quick look-over before agreeing, "Still alive! Although..." She trails off, her smile sliding into a concerned, possibly even disturbed expression as she regards R'dur. "I hold out least hope for you. Did it take all -night-? I bet you're going to die." And back to the plants. "Well. I think it's considerably more odd to give wood feeling than to compare candidates to plants. Plants are really handy."

Z'nal had pretended to look shocked at Devany's teasing, the picture of innocence the Igen brownrider is for half a heartbeat, before all of it fades away in the light of his lopsided grin. He doesn't refute or question anything she says, so for all the jesting, there's probably a lot of truth in her words. "More than likely it is Bornus that she knows," the Igen rider notes, looking back at Sorren and seeing her preoccupied, returns his gaze to the honey blonde, "he was allowed to remain at the Seacraft Hall. I probably just remind her of him." R'dur's overheard comment has him glancing under the table a moment and with a quick raise of his brow, shrugs it off and take a long sip from his long neglected mug, while looking at Devany and the others conversing.

Tegara turns silent after the initial greetings, intent on her meal and listening a bit distractedly to the chatter in the room. But on Claret's remark about candidates and plants, she nearly sprays a mouthful of wine, stopping it at the last second with her hand. Then she puts in her sixteenth mark on the issue. "I'd say dirt is more like it -- useful but neglected and walked on on a regular basis." Not to mention the other things that happen to dirt. "And you folk are lucky -- when I was a candidate a little over six turns ago, we never got anything this grand -- shards, we felt lucky to be fed." But the expression on her face says that the remark is all in jest.

Apology for the abrupt question draws shadows in Iestyn's dark eyes, and with a smile that hides itself quickly by food, he lapses into silence as Ailani's uncertain answer lingers. "According to the wingleader, we celebrate candidate dinners because-," and here he steals a look to Claret for clarification or correction should the greenrider have a reply, "We're useful and needed, but not always here when needed? I only half understand," apology this time is for the greenrider, "It's a different level of thinking than I'm used to." The fork waves a bit, and attempting to change the subject, the shaggy blonde hair swivels to acknowledge R'dur, "The roast is extremely tender." As if the brownrider had something to do with it himself.

'Don't look at me,' says R'dur's shrug, the brownrider offering Ailani an unhelpfully weak smile. "Ah. Well," he fumbles for something to say to the goldrider. Finally, quickly, he turns to Claret instead. "Oh, well. All morning, and I took a break for lunch and finished up a couple of tough places. It was... Well. It was unpleasant, but what else did I have to do? I won't let it get that way again," he promises. "I'll scrub it every month if I have to." And: "Now, Tegara. We were candidates together, and it wasn't /that/ bad." The joke flies right over his head. And, to Iestyn, he just beams. "Oh, thank you. I'll tell the cooks you thought so--I was just in there before we started, worrying about whether it would even be done on time," he admits sheepishly.

"Dirt?" Claret echoes, looking up from her plate, lifted eyebrows clearly displaying her interest in this new analogy. "Well, now, that's one way of looking at it because--Hey. That's not very nose." And now those brows wrinkle, and she informs Iestyn matter-of-factly, "I don't think I was every treated like dirt, but it's rather the same idea. I think you've got the idea. Useful and needed. Important. Couldn't possibly do without you!" This asserted, she starts shaking her head in R'dur's direction. "What else? A million better things than that, I bet. We'll have to keep you on perpetual health-watch. You'd be a good martyr, but I think it would be much better if you weren't."

"I wouldn't be surprised." Devany answers casually, there must have been more on her mind to say on the subject, for she opens her mouth to say on, then closes it again without a sound and only nodding as her glance goes about the others at the table before returning to her weyrmate and then settling on his ale. That last, is what she quietly reached for, as brow lifted questioningly to go with a verbal inquiry, "Just a sip. Seems as if it's been forever since I've even had a taste."

"R'dur, I was just kidding," and she shoots the overworked brownrider a mock-glare. "As for dirt -- well, after cleaning latrines and changing nappies in the nursury, you will have moments when you really will feel like dirt. But then again," she adds, taking a thoughtful sip of wine, "you can mold dirt and make it do things, like grow plants. Or you can make bricks out of it. You know, useful things." She leans back in her chair and finishes her wine, apparently satisfied with her explanation of the matter.

Ailani says, rather hesitantly, "I... see." Though it's rather clear that she doesn't. She opens her mouth as if to say more, but her eyes glaze, and the table is given a rather wistful look. "Time for my nightly walk around the sands - I'll be back later, if I can."

Listening to the conversation around him, Iestyn remains silent, chewing politely and scraping the remnant gravy off his plate. As the harper music's picked up and the bolder people have started to decorate the floor, a young woman, bold in action but shy of face, comes behind the once carpenter and whispers an invitation that the Lemosian, despite his mild fluster, is happy to oblige. Off the pair reel, the girl more expert at dancing than the man, but his attempts are fair at least.

"I'll be sure to visit the healers if I ever start feeling strange," R'dur reassures Claret with a smile. "I'm surprised Brijana even let me back into the weyr, the way I looked when I finished. Even after a bath." He wrinkles his nose and turns back to the meal he's been picking at, complete with sips of wine--though he keeps frowning at the taste of the drink. The flush on his cheeks may be due to the alcohol, but it's probably just a reaction to Tegar's reaction, for he murmurs an apology toward the greenrider. "Good night, weyrwoman," he adds after Ailani, with a small smile for the exiting woman.

Z'nal chuckles softly and hands over his half filled mug, "please, go ahead and finish it. I'll get us both a fresh mug in just a moment." That moment is perhaps taken up with his concern over Ailani's words and manner, his blue gaze taking in the young weyrwoman before she leaves. His own eyes get *that* certain glaze to them and with a nod towards the bowl, he stays seated for now. "I had forgotten that's its been awhile for you to have ale, though I would have thought the ones offered at Boll would have tempted you somewhat Devany." He grins and winks at the honey blonde, before allowing his attention to be captured by the dancers and in so noting them, comments, "its been awhile since we've done *that* together too love."

Claret, quite delighted that Tegara has now taken up her analogy in good spirit, nods enthusiastically. "See? There we go." And she leaves it as that, nodding a farewell to Ailani as she departs, and watching Iestyn with vague interest for a moment as he gets up to dance. But there's still that huge plate of food in front of her, and she lifts her fork with a weary sigh. "I'm surprised too. Even -I- might have had second thoughts about letting you in, after cleaning that table. And you know, me and T'bay, our weyr is just -awful-."

Sorren comes out of her little world of thought, looking at the people around her in conversation. "I am sorry, did I go off there?" she asks, a little ashamed at herself.

Tegara looks back to R'dur and spies the reddened cheeks. "Oh, it's okay, R'dur -- I was just kidding. No need to blush or appologize. As a matter of fact," and she cleans the last trace of tuber from her plate, "would you be liking some dessert? Bubbly pie and cream?" She looks around the table as if suddenly made aware of the presence of a number of others. "Any of you all want some?" she asks, her hill-bred accent coming out somewhat strongly. "I can fetch a whole pie and a jug of cream for you all."

R'dur eyes Claret, grinning faintly. "I'll take your word on it," he tells her. "I've not seen it myself. Bri and I--well, me, actually," he admits, "are very tidy. I can't stand things out of place." He shrugs his shoulders slightly and finally pushes his plate back, finishing off his glass of wine then. Definitely a little flushed, though it certainly finishes calming him down from the mess he was earlier. "Oh, it's--no, no. My mistake," he tells Tegara easily, offering her a small smile. "But, oh. No, thank you. I don't think I can eat anything else, or Alidaeth will start complaining about the weight."

The harpers, finishing up a particularly fast-paced song, turn to a slower one as the party winds down. The dance floor is well-populated with couples swaying gently to the music, enjoying a last dance or two before one by one slipping away for the evening.

At this mention of dessert, Claret makes a face at what's left of her dinner, and drops her fork squarely in the middle, sliding it away from her in obvious expression of defeat. "I'm all right. I'd rather not explode, or implode, or whatever. It couldn't possibly be good for me." Giving herself a judicious nod, she slide a glance at R'dur, her nose wrinkling, though in vague amusement. "It would just figure! Anyway, I'm terribly messy. But T'bay's worse. Even when we were candidates, he used to leave crumbs lying about all the time, and then they turned a lot worse than crumbs! For a start. I'd appreciate tidy much more if it didn't involve effort on my part."

Sorren smiles up at Tegara, nodding that she would like to partake of the bubbly pie on the way, before turning to admit to Claret that "You won't believe it, but I scrubbed every single one of these tables squeaky clean, underneath and all. Except for the Thunderbolt table. R'dur did that one before I could get to it."

"A sip will suffice. I'm not sure I should have more yet, or yes. I'd have had Marcus pour me one the night you took me back." And a sip is what Devany sticks to, in the time it takes him to give the concerned look and her gaze for a moment follows. by the time it settles back on him she's handing the drink back with a lopsided smile, a delicate brow lifting with his latter words, "It has been at that. I wouldn't mind a turn around the floor, if you think you can keep up, that is?" The hint of challenge in her words reflected in her teasing tone as she offers him her hand as well, "Shall we?"

"Explode, I think," R'dur offers Claret helpfully. "As for... Well, it sounds like you need a maid, I think," he jokes with the greenrider. And, turning, he levels an usually stern look at Sorren. "I thought I told you not to do those," he tells her, frowning. "I didn't want the candidates having to do that--it's why I made sure to do at least Thunderbolt's myself."

Z'nal inclines his head to her and rises to his feet, playfully tugging her up to her own, his free hand accepting the mug and tilting it against his lips to polish off its contents before saying, "I'll do my best to keep up Devany, don't I always?" The hint of a challenge answered, he sets the mug down and says to the table in general, "if you all will excuse us...Sorren, it was good to meet a fellow Tillekian, I'm sure I'll see you around." He gives the honey blonde a warm smile and leads her away, murmuring something about, "after...dance...a walk...moonlight..."

"Oh, but I do!" Claret replies to Sorren's comment, clapping her hands together. "You offered -twice-, even though both times someone talked, or ordered," she nods to R'dur, "You out of it. I suppose it's a very good sign that you're conscientious?" Clearly she's not overly certain about this, but it's worth a try. "It's good at least you left Thunderbolt for R'dur, after all that talk about how inappropriate it is to kill candidates. And yes." She heaves a sigh. "I do. Or just some manner of a slave. That I wouldn't have to feel bad about. I wonder if there's anyone owes me enough?"

Sorren blinks, a worried look wrinkling her brow, as her half-smile falls from her face. "I'm, um, sorry, R'dur . . .I didn't think you really wanted to leave them all dirty like they were, I just um, did them because they needed doing." she gets sort of dejected looking. "I won't, um, do it again." she says softly, and sort of ashamed again.

A smile from the Bollian is sent Sorren's way though Devany says nothing there as she's escorted off to join those dancing. And after a time, she and her weyrmate absent themselves, slipping quietly away.

R'dur's blush strengthens at Sorren's expression, and he glances downward, resolve faltering. "Ah. Well. Just--well. Okay," he fumbles, quickly turning back to Claret rather than look at the candidate. "Ah. Well. I'd volunteer you Brijana, but I think she'd pressure me into doing it myself," he jokes.

Tegara shrugs at the apparent rejection of her idea of pie, but rises anyway to get a couple of slices for Sorren and herself. But she somehow manages to snag her dress on the corner, almost falling on her face in the process. Ah, the grace and beauty of a young greenrider. After a number of oaths, none for use in polite company, she disengantles herself and heads off towards the dessert table. Her return is far more graceful, as she sets two warm pieces of bubbly pie, covered with sweetened whipped cream. "Er, I'm really sorry for my language," she says with reddened cheeks, "but I just hate myself when I do something that stupid and clumsy. Almost ripped my best dress." And there is a bit of a stretch mark in the material where it snagged the corner of the table.

"Goodness." This is Claret's eloquent and interested remark as she watches Tegara's mishap. "I don't think you need to hate yourself for being clumsy. I don't. If I did, I think I should have dug myself a hole an awful long time ago and just never come out again. It'd be most unpleasant. Isn't it good that we don't have to wear our best clothes often? I'd destroy mine." This companionable observation made, Claret turns a grin on R'dur. "Oh, but it might be almost as bad as that table! You could think of it like an adventure. Only think how useful it'd be." And for Sorren, she has a cheery smile. Distraction is in order! "How would you feel about dying yourself another color on purpose?"

Sorren seems to stir a little out of her ashamed state, her ears turning red at the language, but managing to keep a straight face. Her demeanor brightens even more as the warm pie is set in front of her, but she eats it in small little bites, like a child whose gotten a scolding and knows she should be the picture of obedience. She remarks quietly to Tegara "I do that all the time." with a small half-smile. Sorren adds a suprised look at Claret, to the color remark.

"Uh," interrupts R'dur hastily, "I think all our candidates need to be their natural color for the hatching. Maybe, uh, afterward?" He wrinkles his nose slightly.

"Oh, don't worry," Claret replies promptly. "Although... Maybe it would be interesting to try it on myself. Just to change the color of one hand. But really, do they have to be all normal, to Stand? Or just healthy? Anyway." She pulls out of her sit, rising. "I'd best get back to my smelly weyr. Good job with all this, R'dur." Claret waves her hand around vaguely, offering a parting smile for all, and then departs.

The young greenrider settles down with no further mishap. "This happens to me sometimes -- I do the most embarassing things at the worst possible times, like the bad case of hiccups I got when I met with V'lano and got tapped into Icewind." But that's another story. She puts down her fork, a goodly scrap of crust soaked with cream remaining. "Well, like Claret, I have to get going. Great job, R'dur, but I knew you could pull it off." Then she turns to Sorren. "And I'll probably be seeing you around the Weyr. Enjoy your time as a Candidate, 'cos it makes your time as a weyrling -- provided you Impress, of course -- all the more special." She rises with considerably more grace than she did the last time, and wanders a bit aimlessly down the tunnel to the bowl.

"You just do that," R'dur tells Claret with a smile. "Good night. Tell T'bay I said hi, please," he adds, sending the woman off with a way. Then, noting a figure from earlier waving at him across the room, he rises. "Ah, excuse me, Tegara, Sorren. I think we're pretty much wound down for the night--" he glances around the emptying cavern, even the harpers packing up their instruments nwo "--and Brijana is getting impatient with me. Good night, both of you." And with a last smile, he, too, turns and slips away to escort his weyrmate out to the bowl.

Sorren waves to all departing riders, as she finishes her own pie. "Thank you!" she says, before really telling R'dur. "I am really, really sorry."