[Log] Little Igens, Pt. 2
Who: Aida, Aivey, Anaddui, Asynnida, E'sere, Essdara, Ginella, G'thon, Issa, J'cor, Jensen, Jiann, Jolasek/J'sek, Kierom/K'rom, L'ret (NPC), Natain/N'tai, N'ka, Medina, Miniyal, Penny, Roa, Tannum (NPC), Tavaly, T'ral, T'zen
When: Day 22, Month 5, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Where: Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr; Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
What: Ulyath's eggs hatch.
Notes: Find Pt. 1 here.
Penny. Empty seat near Jensen. Departing Vej. The little Telgari notices al those things as she looks between the people she knows and the dragons on the sands. "Penny. Scoot. I need to be near the end, in case." In case of..? There is, also, no one with her. That is, no guard immediately visible. Although if one looks, they'd find a rather unhappy Tannum attempting to push his way through the crowd and locate his errant charge.
From the sands, Asynnida glances at Dara and Kianda, giving a quick smile before returning her attention towards the hatchlings. Continuing to chew on her bottom lip, she moves forward towards her previous spot nervously. Jiann gets another look, "You're lucky... I think... You don't seem nervous at all." Her attention shifts back towards the hatchlings again.
Penny blinks at Vej, hiding her smile. "Oh, good idea," she tells him, gravely, nodding. "You can tell him how the Hatching is progressing." With Vej gone, she turns a bland look on the next guard down the line. "You don't?" she asks, sounding rather surprised. "Huh. Fancy that." Ginella's whisper earns her a sort of fierce look, a warning lift of her brows. "You," she says coolly, "don't get to talk." And with that, and a quick glance at Roa, she scoots down the row to make room -- as if there wasn't room for Roa to sit in between her and the captain. "Of course, Roa."
From the sands, Aivey's guess-Impressee was way off, though little disappointment shows as she instead turns to watch the remaining hatchlings and eggs. Another deep breath is taken and held, her shoulders half hunched in the manner the overly self conscious tend to hold them, still she continues watching and waiting.
Aida's excitement seems to dampen a little, though just what it is that's caused this is anyone's guess. She frowns ever so slightly, scooting around and shifting until her knees are beneath her and she's kneeling on the bench. Easier to see, that way. Her hands go back to her legs, and...now, she's quiet for watching. The events occurring beside her are seemingly missed entire.
From the sands, Jolasek gives a soft 'ahh' like sound at Kierom's reply. "So that's her name. I think we spoke once." So much for a good memory. "Looks like they'll be a good pair. Oh--" and his gaze follows the brown that moves nearby. "--now there's almost too much to keep track of." he says, almost muttering the last half. His gaze then notes the movement of the other green hatchling as she too begins to move among the candidates. He fidgets nervously now, wiping at the sweat on his forehead once again.
From the sands, She's not a big talker, Jiann. But she finally offers an observation, muttering mostly to herself, though those around her may well hear. "They ain't 'zactly pretty." Her tone is somewhere between conversational and matter of fact. Granted, those who have Impressed might be biased, and plenty of folks might argue, but she says it anyway. Now she blinks slowly as she realizes Asynnida has addressed her, and for the first time she actually looks aside. "Huh? I don't?" Her gaze swings back to the dwindling clutch. "Guess it's..." She licks her lips, the heat of the sands having stolen moisture. "Better'n last time, is all," she continues, quietly. "Much better."
Issa's veins also pump with hatching-induced adrenaline, for the wearied tautness that's been seen in her face so much as of late has smoothed to an eager but even expression. Her eyes follow the dragonets drifting about on the sand to the candidates they find, quietly assessing some unknown quality about those chosen. Slowly, she tears her gaze from the sands and turns it briefly on E'sere, one hand rising to tuck away another dark wave of hair that's escaped the confines of the tie at the back of her head. "You know what they say about small bronzes," she offers with a mild shrug, smirking.
From the sands, From the egg which survived the attack of the once-healer, a tiny hole appears. Determinedly, something dark pushes against it, chipping away at the hard shell, flaking bit by bit from the hole as it grows. Soon, there is a dark head with a wickedly hooked muzzle pushing out, before broad shoulders break through the rest of the shell with a resounding crack, tumbling a very dark blue hatchling onto the sands with a sudden creel of pain. He remains there afterwards, tiny sides heaving, as he carefully disentangles a wing from beneath his body.
From the sands, Yawning Void Blue Hatchling
Like a moonless night, this hatchling's hide is a blue so dark that it takes the sheen of light to reveal it. He is broad of shoulder, and long of body, with youthful muscle that promises to explode into powerful strength as he grows. A darker sheen of near-black tracesover a muzzle with a wicked hook to it, outlining the whirlinggemstones of his eyes before washing in smokey swirls downsharp-angled ridges and across the spars of wide, long wings. Down histhroat and over his belly a more vibrant shade of blue, richer withoutlosing its dark flavor, brightens the shadows like the earliest signs of dawn. There is something wrong with this hatchling, though. Across his underside, between his hind legs, is a long slice, one that looks to have been inflicted by a twisted talon on his left forelimb. The limb itself is twisted at an odd angle; it appears to be broken.
"Tannum." Jensen recognizes his man when he sees him, gives him a wave. Poor Tannum. Oh hey, Penny. There's a little bumping of shoulders when she scoots over and he swallows. Right then. He shifts around some, not at all noticeable amongst the press of bodies. His eyes remain very well-trained on the sands, but there's an odd sort of distracted look on his face.
From the sands, Kierom nods at Jolasek, agreeing with him as he wipes more seat off nervously, shifting from side to side, watching the hatchlings and chatting to the boy near him. "Yes they do," Kie says, but his voice is distracted as he's focused on the remaining hatchlings there, chewing on hiw lower lip more. Kie does manage a quick smile to Jol though aand takes another deep breathe.
Anaddui gasps as a blue hatches, obviously injured. Biting her lower lip, she turns to Ginella. "Will that one be alright?" Ana asks nervously, head craned around and upwards so that Ginella may hear.
T'ral shoots Jensen a brothers-in-arms glance for a moment over the heads of the women between them, but the brownrider's not going to get in between Penny and Ginella's whispered conversation. Instead, he watches the pair of them for a moment, then offers Roa a nod of greeting as she joins their group. And then he turns his attention resolutely to the sands below them, tracking the progress of those hatchlings sporting the colour in which he has the most interest -- brown, of course.
From the sands, A certain egg is opened, and a woulded blue emerges. Essdara, her friend and support gone, drops her hands to her side and turns to watch. This hatchling, truly, is the one to worry about, and she is curious to see what boy he picks. A breif glance away, a tally of friends. Jiann and Syn, a smile. Aivey, a smirk. But her eyes all too soon are back where they belong, on the eggs and dragons that will soon be paired off.
"Do I?" queries E'sere curiously, quirking a brow as he casts a grin over to Issa. He seems about to say more when L'ret elbows him, gesturing. "Look, it did make it," he points out, eyeing the injured hatchling. E'sere quickly casts a glance toward the blue, brows arching. "So it did," he agrees, expression softening slightly, a small smile slipping through.
From the sands, Asynnida nods her head a bit, "You don't... I'm more nervous than anything right now. Maybe tied with frightened..." The girl offers, shifting a quick look back towards Jiann then back towards the hatchlings. "Oh... You've... Done this before?" She takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh. "Guess you're lucky with that too... You know what to expect." A quick smile towards Dara before her gaze returns to focusing on the hatchlings.
Without any visible or audio cue, T'zen's attention is suddenly on the sands, watching the new blue hatchling from the damaged egg. "How is it?" he asks nobody, and starts fighting his way down for a better look. "Come on, Uneth, describe'im!"
And as soon as Roa sits down, she's standing up again. That was the damaged egg that just hatched. And produced...oh not just standing, but up on her toes. "It's hurt, I think. Can anyone else see? Is that little blue actually hurt?" The satchel is squeezed and as Tannum finally makes his way over, puffing and red-faced, it looks like Roa's planning on leaving again.
From the sands, The brawny brown hatchling is more confident now, lifting his broad-muzzled head and tilting it to one side so he can better survey the candidates. He's beginning to step in one particular direction with an air of purpose, wings half-spread for balance, when one of the nearby boys gives another a push towards him. With a serpentine flick of his tail, the brown takes flight the only way he can; he rushes forward to barrel into Natain, hitting the young man square on and knocking him sprawling. The hatchling's creel of frightened protest fades to a croon of satisfaction as he walks up the length of Natain, one foot resting on his chosen one's face as the pair lock eyes.
"What?" Penny blinks as Roa stands, her attention refocusing on the sands. "There's a-- oh." An injured hatchling is never good, and never really ignorable. "I wonder if it'll be able to find its candidate like that..." But then something seems to distract her, and she swallows, shoulders tensing. Very carefully, she clears her throat, shifting a little in her seat.
A hush falls down across those immediately surrounding Issa and E'sere, and L'ret's indication directs Issa's gaze to the reason for it. The little blue distracts from whatever clever quip about the Igen bronze the greenrider seemed about ready to impart, the erratic motion followed intently. "Just barely from the looks of it," she murmurs softly, her hand, covering her mouth in either surprise or relief, muffling the words.
Ginella eyes Roa and Jensen and Penny, mildly confused, except about Penny's cool warning. She tries to hold in a teasing, smirky grin, but mostly fails, finally biting down on her lip to force it away and turning back to the sands. She's watching the brown as well, turning the same way as T'ral, so she blinks as some girl in front of her suddenly asks a question. "What?" she replies, ineloquent and clearly confused. Then she spots the blue, and makes an "Awww..." sort of sound. "I have no idea," she admits, turning back to T'ral: "You didn't bet on that one, did you?" Roa gets a nod. "I think so," she says, "Looks like a bad limb? That front left one..."
When Natain goes sprawling, Aida is on her feet in an instant, not even bothering to try and resist the urge, her eyes going hugely wide. Sharp worry crosses her face, though she calms when there's no sight of blood. Still, there's no sitting back down just yet.
"There's one candidate - " G'thon pauses and leans forward. The sounds in the stands, the awws and gasps, draw his attention quickly and keen to the broken-paw blue below. Suddenly the former weyrleader has nothing to say about betting. "Unbelievable," he whispers instead, and then suddenly turns his head, gazing intently down the row toward the end, then the other end. His eyes find someone at the end of a row, in the last chair by the aisle, and measure her for reaction; then he leans back into his seat again and lets out a tired, tired sigh. "No; I had thought to suggest a bet on whether today quiets matters but - I suspect you wouldn't take it. I wouldn't, not - not now."
From the sands, Jolasek gives Kierom a brief glance now, although his attention is now distracted as well. He too takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He then frowns a little at the sound of a creel of pain and looks for the source. And finds it, although he has to crain his neck a bit. "Kie...the injured egg hatched." Jol nearly whispers to the other candidate. But then its back to the brown hatchling that now Impresses.
Ginella blinks as Aida starts upwards so quick, noticing for the first time the girl's jitters. "Aida? What's the matter?" she asks, peering at the assistant. After a minute of waiting for her to sit, she adds, gently: "The people behind you can't see."
From the sands, Kierom shifts and he glances at the injured blue, looking at it, concerned, "Poor hatchling...." Kie watches it and only barely sees Natain Impres out of the corner of hos eyes, nodding to himself. "Yes, it hatched..." Kie's voice does show concern over the hatchling an he shifts nervously.
Jensen and T'ral, surrounded by women. Jen spots that glance - it was fate, really - and returns it with lifted eyebrows. Tell 'im about it. And then Aida's up, and a gasp is rippling through the crowd. Several others are standing, trying to see, so he does too. And, being quite tall, he succeeds. He puts a hand on her shoulder.
From the sands, The kid Natain gave the good advice to? Almost does pass out, saved from doing so primarily because there's no room for him to land what with Natain himself taking up the lion's share of the ground around them. The very first thing out of Natain's mouth is not a sigh of adoration or even the exultant announcement of the brown's name; it's actually a loud yelp of pain and a litany of profanity. As he scrambles backward, trying to get out from under a very nasty but well-meaning set of talons, the heel of one hand busy keeping blood from gushing all over the place out of an unhappy looking gash on his face, the other trying to find purchase on the brown's muzzle, he rights himself stiffly and says through gritted teeth, "Okay." That's all she wrote.
From the sands, R'vain has finally lurked off to the edge of the sands where he can, in the lull between rashes of Impressions, search around in his jacket pockets. He probably believes he has a second flask in there. Thus he is distracted when the brown makes his choice, and it takes the general change of timbre of the crowd's murmurs to raise his attention again for a squint at the gimpy blue. "Oh, F'ranth, we're gonna need one of th'Weyrwomen down on th'very first day." What follows is a curse considerably more irritable.
Miniyal is really no more interested in the little hurt blue than any of the other dragons out there. But, it does draw attention since, well, everyone's looking. "Well, he lived anyway," she says with a quiet sigh. "The leg shouldn't matter much if he can get airborne, yes? And, you're right. I wouldn't have taken that bet anyway." Stealing a look to the former weyrleader she shakes her head. "I don't imagine much will settle things done. Hopefully it can not be a pain in everyone's behind for one night though."
From the sands, Steel's Edge Hatchling has yet to make any sound, and she continues her searching in determined silence. Another candidate down the row is given a longer look and then a small bump of muzzle on knee. The girl, tall and brown haired, holds her breath... but no. The tease of a green moves on, more red added to her ever-whirling gaze.
Blood? Penny joins those standing after a moment, rising slowly to her feet in order to see over the heads of those in front of her. "Does anyone know that kid?" she asks, but then she spots Aida and her horrified look. Her glance skitters from the headmaster's assistant to the guard with a hand on her shoulder, and back. Apparently, someone -does- know that kid.
"Something's wrong with its foot," T'ral agrees, his height meaning he need only edge forward on his seat and lift his head to get a better look at the blue. The brown's impression is missed completely as he eyeballs the injury. Which means that Natain's own injury registers as a surprise, drawing an oath. "Fraggit, look at him, his brown's gone right through the skin."
From the sands, The injured blue picks himself up slowly, awkwardly, painfully -- the way his foot is twisted beneath him, it's certain that the limb is broken. Keeping it off the sands, tucked up beneath him, the blue staggers forward, head swinging wildly as madly-whirling eyes survey the assembled candidates. His efforts draw a murmur of mixed concern and approval from the stands, but he remains oblivious, focused -- a second creel of pain joins the first, and Yawning Void Hatchling gives an awkward hop forward, spraying sand with the abruptness of the movement.
"First injury," says L'ret, grimacing and looking a little green, as always when there's blood involved. "Second," E'sere corrects him, sparing a brief look for the brown and his boy before redirecting his gaze to the blue. "Just barely," he agrees with Issa. "Still, that doesn't look like anything that can't be fixed, at least from here. He's moving, which is--something," he takes a quick assessment, grimacing slightly.
From the sands, "No, no. I mean th' las' time /here/..." Jiann nods meaningfully toward the very, very dark blue hatchling. She might have continued, but Natain's yelping -- and impressive cursing -- jerks her head around. She quivers as though she means to take a step toward him, ostensibly meaning to help with that injury or some such, but the hatchling's proximity to Natain gives her pause. "...Hunh," she finally says. If that's even a word.
From the sands, Aivey doesn't return any looks her way, though some are noted. The hatchlings still retain a greater portion of her attention, along with an occasional shift of her position within the thinning line of Candidates.
Aida doesn't seem to hear Ginella's words directed towards her; doesn't seem to register much of anything, really, but watching Natain and the brown. When the former trader gets up, though, and Jensen's hand lands on her shoulder, she breathes again, closing her eyes and promptly dropping back into her seat. Excitement is gone, now. Oh yes it is.
From the sands, A slim green, lithe for a hatchling, manages to tear its way free of the egg, slipping out onto the sands and lying there, panting with effort for a few seconds. Her red-whirling eyes are already scanning the assembled candidates, moving here and there, taking in the situation. She's not still for long, arching her back and getting to her feet with surprising agility for such an awkward thing, spreading damp wings so that the light catches their sails and touches them with sparks of illumination.
From the sands, Night's Protectress Green Hatchling
Long of limb and high of back, this svelte and dark green is tall, slender, and finely arched. Her dusky haunches are narrow, her body slim, providing what seems hardly to be enough purchase for the fledgling sinew of what will likely someday be impressive wing-muscles. The wings themselves are the deepest hues of loamy moss, the sails just barely translucent while the spars shine at the joints as though they're still wet. Long limbs start with knobby shoulders and knees, but end with graceful and lengthy toes spiked by near-black talons. Short, almost stubby headknobs are pinned back close against her head, making her seem sleek, even aerodynamic from the start, a look only complemented by the whiplash cord of her tail, which darkens to a near-ebony at its tip.
Oh just ducky. Wounded hatchling, bloody candidate. "Why on Pern to they make the robes white?" Roa mutters beneath her breath. She hovers at the edge of the row, but doesn't move just yet, eyes on the little broken blue. This allows Tannum to ctach his breath. And glare at the weyrwoman while she's too distracted to notice.
From the sands, Asynnida glances at Natain idly. Her brows work into a frown but she says nothing, letting out a sigh before glancing back towards the wandering green and then towards the blue. A slight shake of her head and she shifts herself a bit, stepping back. "Oh..." She turns a slight shade of red, her gaze moves towards the blue, wincing then. She quickly shifts her attention towards the newest green.
T'zen has shoved enough standing people out of the way to get a clear view of the sands himself, ignoring the trail of rude remarks behind him. He watches the blue hatchling now, brows furrowed, and continues the dialogue which only one side of can be heard. "Aye, I see 'im. Shards, look at that. Healer's gonna have a job t'do.. and it ain't even off the sands yet."
Anaddui doesn't notice when Milina goes silent, she's too busy watching the injured blue and the hurt weyrling. Well, at least the boy Impressed. "What can be /done/ for that poor little blue?" She asks no-one in particular, directing her question into the heated air.
From the sands, Jolasek side glances to Kierom, having shifted his gaze back to the injured blue after the other candidate's comment. He frowns, also concerned, "Yes." is all he says at first, watching as the blue now begins to move. He squints a little, then curses a bit when some sweat gets into one of his eyes. Rubbing at it, he murmurs, "Looks like his limb is bad." And then he blinks the one eye to make sure its back in working order. He shakes his head a little, catching only the last bit of the next green to hatch.
"No, it shouldn't matter. It's just - " G'thon retreats into the sanctity of his seatback again, expression mild but miserable about it. He does not continue the train of thought he had begun. Instead he adopts a dry mein and manages, "You are probably correct. Perhaps it will, at least, relieve some tension."
Jensen glances around, jaw quirked, for those peering too intently at Aida. Nothing to see here. When she reclaims her seat he remains standing for just a moment, still watching the sands. Eventually he too drops back down, careful so as not to jostle anyone. He doesn't ask Aida any questions, doesn't stare at her. He simply folds his arms and continues watching.
From the sands, Essdara watches around her, finally relaxing, finally almost smiling to enjoy it. Another friend, a boy, is found by a brown, and draws an approving grin from her towards the pair. She shifts over, filling the gap between her and the next girl over, a blond girl with a haughty smirk. Eyes glance to the little blue sypathetically, with an hardening of her expression; anger, once more, for the blasphemer who did it.
Ginella just peers at Aida, but finally gives up and eyes the sands instead as Penny stands up, too. "What's going on?" she asks T'ral, unwilling to stand up and see, especially not when he's got a good view already. "Somebody's bleeding? It's not bad, right? Look at her, she's freaking out," she adds in a lower tone, directing her brownrider's attention to Aida. "You'd think it was Br'ce getting gored, or something. Does look like a broken foot, you're right," she adds, eyeing the blue, "Looks like he's trying, though. He ought to be able to Impress anyways, right?"
"He lived, G'thon," Miniyal murmurs quietly. "That, in the long run, should mean something to someone. Although the mess around here who knows." Shaking her head she glances over at someone a few seats down and rolls her eyes as she says, "People get hurt. It's actually a statistical improbability for someone to /not/ get hurt out there. Don't be such a baby." The woman draws away, offense written on her features. Shaking her head, Miniyal snorts. "Holders. Don't have a clue."
"Well, if sitting down is now the fashion, Penny'll join in. She reseats herself as well, her eyes on Aida again for a few seconds before she turns back the the sands. "Gosh, that looks painful," she says of the blue, mildly. She's all polite conversation, eyes straight ahead. "Having to drag itself across the sand like that." She leans back a little, both hands resting on either side of her on the bench seat; evidently, to judge from her posture, she's not all that concerned.
From the sands, R'vain lets out a low growl for the blue, shaking his head. At last pockets and flasks are forgotten; the Weyrlingmaster yanks his paws out of his pockets and stomps off toward the spot where he left Tavaly, muttering something about girl candidates and broken eggs and the world going to the ashpits in a bucket.
From the sands, Kierom nods at Jolasek as he watches the greens move, especially one near the Candidates. "Yes it seems bad," Kie says and takes a breathe as he watches the blue, moving slightly, eyes filled with concern and a flash of anger as well for the one who did that.
From the sands, N'tai waves aside anyone coming over just yet, including Jiann, as he gets up, dazedly but determinedly. With little more ado, holding his hand fast across the side of his face, he assures, "We'll get around to that sooner or later, don't worry. C'mover here." Marching with his other hand on the brown's neckridges, he leads on.
From the sands, Tavaly nods to R'vain as he approaches, speaks briefly with him, then, with one final glance to the sands, a deep sigh, the greenrider disappears into the tiny cavern made of babydragons with angry stomachs.
From the sands, The steel's edge green moves slowly past her possible matches and each one is studied for a long moment before they are rejected and she moves on. The hatchling green passes by one of the girls, a slender lanky thing with dark blonde hair, and two steps past her suddenly stops and turns around. With a small croon she steps in front of Asynnida and lifts her head. New wings spread wide and the red of the hatchling's eyes is replaced with cool blues and greens as Impression occurs.
Aida calms herself the rest of the way, and though the smile that returns to her face is nowhere near as bright, it's a smile all the same. Her eyes open, and she sends a look towards Jensen, then the people past him. No explanation for her behavior is offered, not even any words -- she just looks back out to the sands again, eyes hunting until they find Essdara again. She nods to herself, alternating then between watching Dara and the broken blue.
"Somebody's bleeding," T'ral confirms. "They'll stitch him up, it happens. The blue, I don't know. He's going to find someone, he's doing his best. They'll have to set it today, I guess." The cheerful brownrider's grin is noticably dimmed, in line with the change in the tone up in the galleries -- happy cheers have turned to conversation, speculation.
From the sands, Jiann realizes only now that she should have, unobtrusively, made her robe to include a pair of pockets. Ah well. She wipes her sweat-slicked hands upon the fabric. Finally she moves: a few wooden, mechanical steps are taken back away from approaching hatchlings, just to avoid the kind of lurching and face-slashing that N'tai suffered. A glance goes after that fellow. By the time Jiann turns back, it seems a certain green has approached a certain nearby candidate. "Hunh," the holdbred woman says again, so very eloquently.
From the sands, Jolasek gives another quick glance to the blue, but the approach of a green hatchling and then the resulting Impression causes his attention to shift once more. He chuckles dryly, mostly out of pent up nervousness, "And another." he notes quietly. The candidate then takes another deep breath, still doing his best to keep calm among all the noise and commotion.
Jensen has a small smile of his own ready for Aida when she looks at him. It's okay. He even places his hand on her back, high up near her shoulder. Supportive, that, in a silent sort of way. He makes a face suddenly, glances over at Penny, then down. "Uh. Your-" Nope. He won't say it. He'll just return his attention to the hatching, mmhm.
From the sands, Asynnida watches the green pass by though freezing, the girl opens her mouth for a moment closing it once more and nodding a bit. "That's what..." She trails, nodding again. "Surath..." She squeaks out, letting the tears from her eyes. "If you say so." She glances at Dara and gives a bright smile before looking back to the green before her.
From the sands, Another friend down. Dara offers a bright grin to Syn. "Synnie!" She says, moving around the girl between them to better be heard. "Ohh, congrats!" Genuine pleasure, at least, for the people Impressing around her. "Go eed her, love, over there." She motions to the meat barrels; out of line, perhaps, for her to do, but she does.
From the sands, Yawning Void Hatchling continues his laborious progress towards the candidates, every step pained but marked with steady determination. The drive to find his lifemate overpowers the pain of his twisted leg and the gash running down his belly, and he manages a little more speed as he hops along the line, pausing now and then to examine this or that candidate. He does not beg assistance from any of them, though, maintaining a distance as he searches, never stopping long even to rest his injured foot.
From the sands, "Another girl!" R'vain, deprived of drink and of Tavaly's company, has nothing to do now but watch the hatching. Which is, arguably, what he should be doing anyway. So he's aware of the implications when that green sets herself down before Asynnida, and already trodding out there toward them when the new greenrider manages to come out with her part of what is, to the onlookers, a very one-sided conversation. "Surath, eh?" The Weyrlingmaster looks down at the young green. His mouth twitches, his brows furrow, malcontent wars with sweetness and, in time, wins. "That way," he growls of a sudden, jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward the doorway through which the other weyrling pairs have passed. "Go'wan, there's food." He can't seem to sound as mean as he'd like.
From the sands, Kierom nods at Jol, glancing at him, "That's Asynnida, Syn for short. Good fit." Kie nods and watches the other hatchlings, nodding some and chews on his lower lip. Kie keeps watching the blue with concern and nods at the newest green hatchling. Kie smiles and nods towards Syn, smiling, "I'm glad to see that....."
Anaddui leans forward and cheers, injured blue momentarily forgotten as Asynnida Impresses a green. "Great work Syn!" She calls, not caring if Asynnida can't hear above the roar. She turns her eyes again, searching for Dara to see if her other friend down there has Impressed. Not yet, but who knows?
"Miniyal," says G'thon, abruptly and a little snappishly, as though it's somehow his job to rein the former head-of-records in, to stop her from offending holder folk. But then he glances at her, turns his bald head just enough to offer her a -look,- and that look has a little bit of a smile in it, a little twinkle in it, a wink threatened. "Easy," he says, not meaning it at all.
Lips quirk upward as impressions occur and for a moment, Roa loses that edge of anxious waiting. She can't help it. She does what they all do...waxes nostalgic for her own impression. A small sigh as the larger green makes her choice. "Really does go so fast," she murmurs.
Aida exhales a sigh that takes with it the last of her tension when Jensen's hand goes to her back, her smile brightening a few steps further. Still no chattering, but she seems to be recovering her mood swiftly.
From the sands, Asynnida nods towards Dara before letting out a soft eek as R'vain moves over. Her head nods a tad and she glances at Surath. "Let's get you something to eat..." She offers softly, walking slowly towards the doorway.
From the sands, Working on the assumption Asynnida wouldn't even hear much directed at her, Jiann does not address her, although she does give her a nod almost equally likely to go unnoticed. The former cotholder then turns her dark eyes back to the dragonets on the sand, bracing herself once more. When her gaze settles upon that injured blue, Jiann mutters, "Reckon th' boys should prob'ly move up a pace or so. Save it a li'l pain."
Penny glances toward Jensen as he speaks to her, her eyes perfectly clear. "My what?" she asks, curiously, blinking once at him. "Is something the matter, Captain?" She's all polite, detached concern.
From the sands, Jolasek looks briefly to Kierom, then back to Asynnida and once again 'ahh's slightly. "I think I met her once too, briefly. Actually, just when this clutch came to be." he rambles on for a bit before glancing over the remaining candidates and then back to the eggs. He catches sight again of the blue as he continues his determined search, still frowning a bit in concern. He does overhear a bit of what Jiann mutters and he shrugs lightly, "I'm not sure if we should try to approach...even if it might help." he mutters in return.
"G'thon," says Miniyal right back, hiding the grin that dares to think of escaping. Lowering her voice she adds, "She was bigger than me. Did you want to see how many spectators she took out if she fainted?" Shaking her head she returns her attention to the sands, hands folding in her lap primly.
From the sands, Essdara smirks a bit to Jiann, shaking her head. "He'll find where he needs to be, wherever they are. Y'know that." She looks over at the little blue, with a soft sigh. "Just glad it hatched at all, I'm sure Roa'll put it to rights." A glance at her, then away. "Almost done, I think... Not so many eggs left."
From the sands, Night's Protectress Hatchling gives a sweet sort of croon, one marred slightly by the awkward squawk her just-born voice gives at the end. Quick to get to her feet means quick to begin examining the candidates; she moves over the sands with a bit more facility than her clutchmates, making a beeline straight towards a particular clump of white-clad people. Grace is not a word typically associated with dragon hatchlings, but this one's lithe lines and sleek appearance at least give her the semblance of it.
"Not serious, then?" Ginella nods to T'ral, not sounding very concerned, "That's good." She reaches an absent hand up to pat the brownrider's chest as his tone loses a bit of its cheer, shooting him a brief smile before turning her eyes back to the sands. "Well, a bad leg that can be set isn't too bad, considering," she says. Jensen and Penny suddenly get a bit of a glance, and she eyes the two, then peers at Penny some. "What's--" she cuts off, and hides a smirk, turning away from the pair with a shake of her head. "Nevermind."
T'zen spares a glance to look over the people in the caverns, and then focuses on the injured blue once more. seems whatever his initial intent, the little blue gimp's gotten the man's attention.
From the sands, Kierom nods at Jol and flashes Dara a smile. "Yes, he'll find where he needs to be." Kie glances at the blue and the other hatchlings and takes a breathe, smiling at Jol, "It did hatch, and the leg can heal...."
Jensen is dividing his attention now between candidates and Aida and, well, the room in general. It's part of his job, being watchful. Penny gets his attention when she addresses him, and it's with his own polite sort of smile in place that he half-turns towards her and says, in a very calm, loud enough to be heard by her and everyone else around her voice, "Your hand seems sorta friendly is all." His eyebrows lift, he glances down again, purses his lips. Happy? "I'll fix it for you though." He does just that, scooting over towards Aida and returning focus to the goings on. His mouth doesn't twitch, not once.
From the sands, R'vain makes a stalking, muttering round of the sands to scan the eggs left unbreached. The tour ends near the candidates that remain, particularly near the girls, particularly of them near Essdara. But the Weyrlingmaster does not, just now, speak. He just stands there with a dark expression and arms crossed over his broad chest, watching with tension in his jaw. Waiting.
From the sands, Jolasek briefly glances to Essdara, having not quite heard her clearly although from Kierom he can take a guess. "Exactly." he simply says, before nodding his head a bit and wiping at the sweat on his brow and neck. "Yes, it can, Kie. But I'm guessing it won't be easy..." The green hatchling is watched curiously now as the candidate keeps his attention moving between the two, as well as those still standing near to him.
From the sands, Jiann snorts quietly. "Sure it will. Don't see a need t'make it limp more'n it has to, though." If the menfolk won't step up, Jiann will just take a step back. Perfectly logical.
Penny looks down, at her hands on the bench, and blinks. "Gosh." She looks back up, smiles a winsome smile. "An accident, Captain, I assure you. It's so crowded in here, I imagine people are taking accidental liberties all over the place. Hatchings are too exciting to remain perfectly polite." But the guard is moving closer to Aida, and this is dismissal enough for Penny, who turns away in time to see the smile quirked on Ginalla's lips. "Yes?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at her.
From the sands, Aivey's silent tally reaches a plateau: two hatchlings as of yet impressed and however many eggs left, she takes a breather to wipe her forearm across her forehead and to ease the tension building in her shoulders and neck. Another quick, deep breath is pulled in and released, a slight fidget of her hands and feet later she stills and resumes watching.
From the sands, The yawning void blue has been slow in his progress over the sands, delayed by his injuries, and yet eschewing the aid which might have been offered him. Determined, and orderly, he has examined as many candidates as he can. And now, with few eggs left, and few candidates still standing, his choices are slimmer. All the better; he can better devote his attention to those who remain. Holding his injured foreleg close to his chest, hopping awkwardly over the sands to avoid dragging the slice along his belly over the harsh sand, he finally comes to a tall, blonde young man and, with a creel of relief, tumbles into Jolasek.
Aida is not completely and totally oblivious, now; her intent focus has broken. She turns her head to give a mildly bemused look to Jensen and then past him to Penny, but she doesn't say anything; she just flashes a smile up towards Jensen when he scoots, then looks back to the sands. The fidgeting even starts again, though now she's toying with the scarf tied round her waist.
From the sands, Kierom nods at Jol, smiling a little, "Well, nothing good ever comes easy." Kie eys the remaining candidates, nodding some and shifts, smiling as the blue Impresses Jol and nods. "There we go, and a good choice I think." With that Kie smiles again and focuses more on the remaining hatchlings.
G'thon pantomimes an aghast reaction fairly well; he raises a slim pale hand to his head, crooks thumb and forefinger against his temples, eyes hidden by the stretch of his palm. He bends his neck and leans his head into his hand, as if a headache has struck him, as though being so appalled at the recordskeeper's words has hurt him physically. Miniyal might see, sidelong, the lopsided grin the former weyrleader has to fight to keep in check. "Well, I'd hate for anyone to be hurt," he manages without chortling. Chortling!
From the sands, And he blue chooses, a boy Dara doesn't know. Still, a releived smile as he seems to be in good hands. A presence, nearby, catches her attention, and she looks to the Weyrlingmaster for a long moment. A flush across her cheeks, then, and she quickly looks away, to the sleek dragon that is prowling it's soon to be rider.
Jensen gives Penny a sideways sort of eyeing. It takes him a moment to answer. "You have a point." That's all. Mmhm. He'll just /look/ at her though, something going on in his brain that only slightly comes through in his expression. He doesn't return Aida's smile, only because he didn't see it, but he does settle in comfortably beside her, close proximity be darned.
"There we go," E'sere remarks to himself as much as L'ret and Issa as the blue finally chooses. "That's much better. Now--" He leans back, studying the rest of the hatching now that that problems somewhat cleared up.
From the sands, Jolasek seems to sway a little, mostly from being tumbled into but half because of another form of impact. He reaches out to carefully balance himself against the blue hatchling as he kneels a little, mindful of the injuries even as his head shakes a little back and forth. For a moment it looks like Jol goes to say something, before finally choking out, "Areteth. I know." And then he smiles, looking briefly to Kie although his attention is mostly on the injured blue.
Miniyal doesn't even spare a glance to the former weyrleader. Not one much visible anyway. Her eyes slide towards the man seated next to her and she has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. But, she manages to reign herself in. On her own. Shifting in her seat to make more room between her and the holder contingent sitting next to her she 'accidentally' nudges G'thon. "It is my solemn duty to be sure no one is hurt," she says after the nudge. "The last thing we need is squished holders. Although if she fainted that would leave more pastries for everyone else." Then it i back to watching the hatching. Nothing to see here.
"There, he's got someone," T'ral announces, quite unnecessarily. "Wouldn't want to be his weyrling when it comes time to shove his foot back into place, that's going to hurt." With a wince for that possibility, he turns his attention to the few stragglers on the sands, one hand going into his pocket to rattle what sounds like currency in there. "I've lost count of how many there were of which, but I think this could be a profitable one." Not quite caught up in the larger political implications, T'ral.
It's sort of a pity, really, that Roa is missing so much of what's happening in the stands because of her intent focus on what's going on with the hatchlings. "Right," she murmurs as the broken little blue picks someone. She does hop down now, pushing again through the crowd, elbowing and vanishing and all of that fun stuff. With a groan, Tannum turns around and, once again, wades after Roa.
"There we go," T'zen murmurs, words not intended for anyone to hear, as he watches the injured blue hatching bowl over one of the male candidates. There is evident relief on the man's face. And with a deep breath, he says again to nobody, "Keep me posted on the rest. 'specially Ess." He starts pushing his way back to the entrance, and then grimaces, "Yes, that's right, meatroll girl. Shards, Une." And he's made it to the exit and out, back on whatever errand takes him away from the hatching.
"Of course I do." Jensen is given a somewhat withering look, brief as Penny eyes him over. Her lips give a briefly scornful twist before she turns her profile to him again, looking out at the sands. "It's all happening so quickly," she murmurs, watching the injured blue impressing. "Can you imagine being out there?" A glance offered to the side, to Roa, Ginella, T'ral. She pauses. "Well. I suppose -you- all can imagine." She blinks as Roa stands, watching her go quietly, without offering a goodbye.
From the sands, "Easy," murmurs R'vain. It could almost be a purr. His eyes are on the sands, on the eggs, emerald attention darting from one hatchling to another as they seek out their pairings, but certainly that rough low word was for Essdara. It's all he has time to offer her, however. Another young dragon's selection is made and R'vain goes trodding out after him, only realizing halfway there that the blue chose, "/You./" Scowl. "A'right, at least y'don't look like a wet feline dragged through a mud-bog. Y'look," a glance up and down the candidate's robes Jolasek wears. "Well, never mind how y'look. Go that way. Take him with you." Pointing south, the Weyrlingmaster jerks his chin that way as well for emphasis. "He gon' walk all right that far...?"
Anaddui lets out a sigh of relief as the blue chooses Jolasek. "Thank Faranth for that...hope the healers can fix him up good and proper..."
From the sands, Night's Protectress Hatchling seems to have discovered someone quite fascinating, a blonde-headed girl from the lower caverns, who seems frozen under the dragonet's gaze. The girl occupies her attention for a few moments before her multi-faceted eyes flick towards a fidgeting brown-haired boy nearby. There's a moment in which the hatchling's eyes lock with the boy's, and then back to the blonde girl, who's still trembling and motionless, the blood of the mauled candidate still fresh on the sands. Slowly, deliberately, the tiny green tilts her head almost ninety degrees, examining the frightened girl with an almost maternal gaze of concern.
"Indeed," Issa replies, her hands falling away from her mouth as the blue finds a candidate for its own, the finality in her voice echoing E'sere's sentiment. She leans back from the heat of the sands somewhat, swiping away the beads of sweat that have been left to line up unaffected during her period of intent watching. "Hopefully they can get him fixed up."
Aida's smile brightens further when the blue chooses, another huff of air escaping. "Oh, good," she observes. Her eyes sweep up and towards Roa when she goes, a hand lifting up to give a wave after the woman whether she sees it or not. She sends that smile down towards Penny, Ginella, and T'ral, and then she's looking back to the sands. If Jensen's proximity bothers her, she's certainly not giving any sign of it.
"Oh good," Ginella replies, though she's already seen the blue's impression herself, as well. "It's fairly amazing he survived at all, really, I'd think." That sobers her for a moment, before T'ral's pocket-jingling draws him a look and a shake of the head. "Well, I guess you might as well win, if you're going to do it." She shoots Penny a bit of a smile as she answers her own question about what they can imagine, then abruptly turns back to fix T'ral with a narrow, questioning look: "Did you bet on /my/ hatching?"
From the sands, Kierom blinks as he locks eyes with the green for just that moment and almost takes a step, but sighs as she looks at someone else. Kie fidgets more and glances around, focusing and watchinh the hatchling.
From the sands, Night's Protectress Green Hatchling's head swings round to fix on the brown-haired boy, leaving the blonde girl trembling with tension and disappointment. The ex-guard is now the sole object of her scrutiny, starry whirling eyes locked on his. After a few long moments she steps toward him and stretches out her arched neck, butting her head up under Kierom's arm, her cheek tucked close against him while her wings half-furl around him in a protective embrace.
From the sands, Jolasek looks up again and towards R'vain, smirking slightly at the reference of a 'we feline dragged through a mud-bog'. He only looked like that once. Honest. Even so, he nods his head and murmurs "Thanks." to R'vain, before pausing and glancing to Areteth. "He'll be fine, I think. But I'll help him if he needs it." he adds after a moment, before slowly moving to the caverns R'vain pointed to.
"You should make sure you let Heriet know that's your position now," says G'thon; with each word his voice grows more quiet, the strain of keeping his intonation nominally somber taking its toll on his ability to project. Or perhaps he just knows better than to be this completely silly - and what on Pern has gotten into him, for that matter, that he's being this ridiculous? It's unheard of. At least, what with him keeping it so tightly controlled it's likely to remain unheard of. "Hurt-preventer."
From the sands, From her vantage point beyond most of the candidates that yet remain, unclaimed, Jiann watches as the hatching dwindles down. With more space to dodge and lower levels of chaos attacking her, she seems to relax some. Not that that's saying much. But at least her hands are no longer balled into fists.
Why, of course it's Niya who is the good example on G'thon! Clearly he has learned from her charming and easy social self how to be amused at any little thing. Aaaaand, back in the 'real world' who knows? "Oh, she'll be pleased," Miniyal tells G'thon quietly with a glance towards the holder people. "She did say I needed to figure out how to serve the weyr and all of Pern. Hurt-preventer. I wonder what that pays?" At least he's not morose.
From the sands, Kierom blinks in suprise as a smile comes across his face as the green comes near, "Her name is Iusath." Kie glances around, smiling but is very focused on the green and her needs, nodding at her.....
From the sands, With J'sek and, more to the point, his injured counterpart out of harm's way, R'vain does a slow one-eighty. Another pair, brown and his rider, get the point-and-instruction routine, then the Weyrlingmaster turns again to review the state of the sands. Kierom's impression gets no particular surprise, and R'vain tromps out to him to say, "That way," and offer the same direction the other weyrlings have received. "Food and other things you need."
From the sands, And there goes the green. Dara shoots a bright smile to Kierom, relief showing as she sees the boy Impress. "Do him good." She murmers. "Give him a new start and let him stop being so..." She trails off, not finishing. A glance around at the dregs of the candidates, and the smile fades; dissapointment is already settling in on many of the faces, friends and strangers alike; she turns to Jiann, speaking quietly. "Gets worse from here." and away, to someone else, older and male; her expression grows unreadable.
"And there's another," remarks E'sere, eyeing Kierom and the green, brows arching. "You called that one," L'ret agrees, grinning. E'sere nods slowly, cracking his own smile in turn.
From the sands, Aivey watches the green impress, her eyes narrowing with study before switching to the sands proper. Another shift of her feet, a shake of her head and Aivey continues watching and waiting. Minus one look over her shoulder to the galleries, the whole of her attention remains upon those eggs left.
From the sands, Somewhere in the roar of congratulations, the rise and fall of excitement as hatchlings pass by candidates and then walk away, the last impressions are made quietly. A little green and her gracile bronze clutchsib pick two candidates standing next to each other, both ruddy faced and burly young men who awkwardly ignore each other as they stoop to greet their lifemates. As they do, a sudden emptiness falls over the cavern noise: the dragons have stopped humming. All that's left of the hatching are scattered egg shards and the clusters of unchosen candidates.
Rising smoothly as draconic silence falls over the caverns, J'cor moves to the gallery landing. A solemn nod greets the crowd and presages his words: "On behalf of High Reaches, I thank you all for coming to witness the pairings of the weyr's newest dragonriders. I would also invite you to the main cavern, where - thanks to the combined efforts of our weyr residents and Caucus students - there will be wine, supper, and song." A generous smile, though short-lived, rounds off his speech as the Weyrleader steps down and allows the crowd freedom to move and talk again.
"Might as well win," T'ral agrees, recovering his good-natured grin -- the blue is impressed, and the sands are rapidly clearing. "You girls are expensive to keep." After that tease he falls silent to hear out the Weyrleader, slowly rising from his seat in the wake of the man's words to stretch and unfold. "The weyrlings'll be along there soon enough, eating half the feast. Remember that part? Thinking you needed to eat everything you could see, when you were still feeling your dragon?"
N'ka stands, turns on his heels, and leaves. No words are uttered.
From the sands, R'vain rounds up the last of the new weyrlings and sends them off their way toward their new, or temporary, sanctuary. He hangs back from them a bit and makes sure his path-- he's ignoring entirely J'cor speaking, of course-- takes him past Essdara. Then the unfortunately sober Weyrlingmaster, with all his new charges, disappears.
From the sands, Jiann exhales a long, slow breath. It's a sigh, and one of relief, at that. Turning her head, her gaze sweeps over the mess on the sands, just in case there's some egg hiding behind a mound or lost beneath shards. But no. She gives a nod, and half-turns, looking for some signal of what to do now.
From the sands, Aivey, upon hearing the speech, turns and heads off to the exits without a look back or a second thought. Out into the relief of the relatively cooler air she goes.
Ginella keeps looking at T'ral for a moment, in such a way that makes it seem unlikely that she won't ask him that question again later. Then she turns to listen to J'cor, and stands as well as they're all dismissed. One arm is bent behind her head as she stretches, nodding at the brownrider with wide eyes: "How could I forget? It was horrible. I was always either eating constantly and forgetting to feed her, or only feeding her and not remember to eat myself. It took me forever to get used to it." She shakes her head a bit, and then lowers her arm and turns to Penny. "You going to go to the caverns?"
With the hatching over, E'sere rises, and L'ret does as well, the pair sticking close together as they take their leave. "Issa, would you care to join us for the feast?" E'sere offers. His eyes are still on the sands, though, watching as the leftover candidates file out--one Aivey, in particular.
"I'm certain the salary is negotiable. Perhaps even commissionable." G'thon has a little more of his sense of humor - sense of humor! - under control now and settles back into his seat to listen as the weyrleader below speaks words that seem all too familiar. Suddenly somber, the former weyrleader drops his hand to his lap and finds himself half-mouthing words along with J'cor; afterward, he lets out a heavy sigh. Solemn for a moment, he then looks sideways at Miniyal and asks, "Dinner in the caverns for you, or something quieter?"
From the sands, Essdara glances after R'vain, smirking, and shaking her head. A glance around, and to Jiann and Aivey, nearby. "Hmm. Guess we're the lucky ones, we get to eat well tonight." The humor, though, doesn't reach tone or eyes, a feeble attempt at best.
Penny clears her throat as the last of the pairs leave. She shifts slightly on the stone bench, separated now on either side with Roa's departure and Jen's sudden proximity to Aida. She looks up at Ginella. "Hmm... I -am- feeling a little peckish," she muses. "Something to nibble on wouldn't go amiss, I think." Hatching feasts are never to be missed.
Jensen stands, lifts his chin in an attempt to spot Vej, fails in doing so, and thus glances down at Aida. "Think I'm gonna go. Maybe I'll see you later." That done, he turns and starts pushing his way through folks, his hand on his knife if only to keep the handle from jabbing people.
Issa's eyes drift up from finding the faces of the candidates left standing to find J'cor as he makes his announcement, her eyes thinning to focus through the heat. "High Reaches..." is her surly, breathy mutter. She stands, then, rising along with E'sere and L'ret and turning her attention to them instead. "I'd love to, yes. You two manage to win anything off of the outcome?" The greenrider offers a slip of a smile to go along with the usual hatching banter as she passes one more glance across the sands.
Miniyal's head cocks to the side as it ends and considers the question. "Commission?" she comments in the meantime. "I'll have to be sure people are in harm's way. Otherwise I'll never make a mark." With a quiet tsk she worries at her lower lip and gives G'thon a considering look. "It depends," she finally says with a quiet sigh. "If you wish the company I will peek in I suppose to the mess that will be the cavern. Otherwise? I'll see if I can't find something quieter." The lighter mood actually seems to have her more worried than if he were still all mopey.
Aida exhales a soft sigh when things fall to quiet down there, and she gives another shake of her head. Something is murmured under her breath, and then she gives a little stretch and looks away, back to those sitting nearby with far more of her focus. "That was a lot quicker than I expected," she points out, tone a bit bemused. There's a little concern now lingering beneath her expression, but the cause of it is not readily apparent. Of course, when Jensen leaves so abruptly, her attention swings up. There's a blink, a look after him, a look at those remaining. "'Scuse me," she offers, and hops up so she can go darting after the Captain. Of course, she does not have anywhere near the ease of the time he did in cutting through people.
"I didn't bet," admits E'sere, shoulders lifting slightly. "L'ret, now--" He glances to the brownrider. "I had a couple of bets, but I think... Well. I doubt I'll be able to collect," he admits, shaking his head wryly. E'sere grins, nodding before he turns attention to Issa again. Offering her an arm in escort, as always, he starts for the exit, falling in with the rest of the crowd.
Ginella nods at Penny. "I wouldn't mind a quick bite," she agrees, "And I doubt he'll say no to food," she adds, wagging a hand in T'ral's direction. "Do-- oh." Jensen's sudden departure, and Aida's just as sudden following leave her a bit surprised, and she blinks at Penny. "What was that about?" she asks, "She's been acting weird this whole time, too." A little shake of her head and a shrug, and the goldrider nods towards the exit. "Shall we?"
Medina nods to herself in satisfaction. Glances around once more, looking for a way through the still crowded galleries. Finds it, and threads her way out of the hatching grounds. She has not spoken a word the entire time she was here.
Issa takes E'sere's arm, an automatic gesture that requires little thought. Her attention is on the faces of those passing, scanning quickly before their little threesome heads for the exit and down the stairs.
From the sands, Silence grows, and with a soft sigh, Dara turns away. She offers Jiann a hand, "C'mon, Jiann. Nothing left to do but leave. You hungry? Not so sure I want to go to the feast, myself. Think I will, dunno, go sit by the lake a while or something."
Living Cavern
Large enough to hold the majority of the Weyr's human population, this cavern can become loud enough to deafen thanks to the acoustics caused by its size. The ceiling is so far overhead that it's cast into shadow, a darkness that is broken only by the spark and glitter of a lucky beam of light striking the minerals found in the rock walls. Below, most of the floor is covered with an assortment of long tables and benches. There are some smaller tables, surrounded by chairs, but privacy appears to be a rare thing in this bustling cavern. Large hearths line the west wall, with fires burning day and night to warm the food and drink that keep the Weyr's inhabitants fueled. The serving tables are near the hearth, opposite the dais that holds the single table reserved for the Weyr leadership and honored guests.
Contents:
Issa
Obvious Exits:
Upper Caverns (UC) Lower Caverns (LC) Kitchen (K)
Infirmary (INF) Bowl (B)
When they arrive in the living cavern, midst all the other party-goers, E'sere is quick to send L'ret off toward the serving tables on some errand, and equally quick to motion to one of the lower caverns girls to go after him. She grins, shakes her head--apparently, she knows one or both men well enough to set off easily after L'ret, leaving E'sere and Issa in comparative privacy--if you can call being in a post-hatching crowd 'private'. "So. Well, that turned out better than I expected," the bronzerider begins easily.
Issa's hand falls from the gentlemanly support of E'sere's arm as she reaches up to tidy her hair that's been alternately slicked and frizzed in parts during the hatching. Watching the exchange with the lower caverns girl, she undoes the tie holding her hair back then redoes it, smoothing too-short curls behind her ears carefully. When E'sere turns back, she's completed her primping, and lowers her arms to cross her chest, tucking her hands away. "Mmm," she agrees, stepping a bit closer as she's jostled by an already drunk holder from High Reaches Hold, flown in for the occasion. "Those that Impressed... didn't see many that were significantly attached to our new leaders, at least." A small consolation, as these Igenites have settled long enough to have their eggs hatch on the High Reaches sands, but a consolation nonetheless.
"No, nor did I," agrees E'sere, nodding slowly. "Fortunate for the rest of us, I suppose. There were some good ones--a few I know, only a couple I was particularly close to. I've found the further removed from my own impression I get, the fewer of them I do know well. Nothing like seeing all those young new people impressing to make a man feel old. I didn't catch the final spread, though--I wonder. It seemed tilted more to the blues and greens than usual to me, although I might have missed something?" He lifts his shoulders again, vaguely, as he glances across the crowd.
Issa glances as well, eyes passing idly between passers-by milling toward the feast set out, as though looking for someone she doesn't expect to find. "It was by my count, too. Only saw two bronzes. But that could have been where we were sitting." She shrugs and gives up her search, turning with an easy smile back to E'sere. "Old, E'sere? Whyever would you feel that," she teases with a more exaggerated tone, nudging at him with the point of her elbow. "You knew Katric well enough after all." Oh, look how easily she slipped that in, as if Katric were just another one of those dejected white-robed younglings still standing on the sands.
"That," says E'sere easily, "was something entirely different." He's no fool, certainly not in public, and he fixes the greenrider at his side with a small smile, more bemused by her efforts than anything else. Then, glancing past her, he adds apologetically, "Excuse me--I just saw my uncle, and I should go speak to him. I'll see you later, Issa." With that, he's turning, easily cutting through the crowd to meet with Tillek's Lord Anshuman.