[Log] Fashion Forward

[brazenbronzer]

Who: A'zan, Gay, Jenivrys, R'uen, Tamarisk, Tiriana, T'rev
When: Day 16, Month 11, Turn 15
Where: Bowl, Telgar Weyr
What: Various Weyr residents spend a lot of time discussing party fashions. The verdict? Brown is out, vests are in (as long as they're on R'uen).

Southern Bowl, Telgar Weyr
     Towering above, the bowl wall rises in a curving three-pointed arc as it shelters this southernmost point of Telgar Weyr's great caldera. Sloping down to the north to a slight degree, the floor of the bowl has been channeled so that runoff might drain down to the lake beyond. There are several strategically placed evergreens that serve to baffle the biting mountain winds away from the southern entrance into the Living Caverns. Drifts of snow and the heavy tracks of large dragon feet and bellies cross the expanse of the bowl. Rocks and crags are hung with the purest white. Northward, the center of the bowl spreads hugely, leading to the feeding pens, hatching grounds, weyrling barracks, the Telgar Weyr lake. The ground-level weyrs of the queenriders dot the mountain to the northwest. The murmur of voices and the clatter of pots and chairs drifts from the Living Cavern, where the evening meal is being served. (+view available)
     The early evening grows ever darker, the only indication of the sun setting in the overcast western sky. There seems to be a light breeze and the fall air is warm enough, with only a slight chill.

Contents:
Gay
T'rev
Mecaith
A'zan

Obvious exits:
Living Cavern Central Bowl Records Room Outer Infirmary Guest Weyr Work Room

Autumn slinks onward, bringing with it the slightest hints of the chill to come, though with only a light breeze blowing it's pleasant enough. Early evening approaches far more quickly than the cold season, turning the bowl's light to rich gold tones and stretching the shadows long. A'zan sits on a boulder under one of the bowl's few evergreens, a puddle of strap leather all around him and pooled on the ground at the rock's base.

"Y'know, you leave all that lying around," Tiriana remarks casually as she nears A'zan, approaching from one side, "somebody's going to up and trip over it." She nods toward the straps sprawled across the ground at his feet, stuffing her hands in her pockets; her walk pauses entirely--probably to watch for somebody to do just that.

Neither the early encroachment of evening nor the slight chill of autumn are a deterrent to Gay's wanderings around the bowl or along to the lake; this time, she seems to be just starting out at the moment, coming down the steps from her weyr - which is sadly a ways off from the tripping hazards, 'cause she'd likely provide Tiriana's somebody. She does start for the caverns, which offers a bit of hope.

Nimble hands pause in their familiar motions as A'zan stops feeding leather through them long enough to flick a glance up at Tiriana. "Have you ever tried to examine every inch of enough straps to encircle a grown bronze dragon? It takes up a lot of space, whether I like it or not." The glance is cursory, and then he looks back to his task, slipping straps past assessing fingers. "Besides, few people get close enough to me for it to matter. Most give me a wide berth." Another look, this one more pointed and paired with a headshake. "Other than giving me crap as usual, what are you up to?" The lift of pale eyes coincides with the arrival of a certain apricot-curl topped Weyrwoman, and A'zan's hands pause again, this time to watch her approach with a hint of a smile no ribbing by annoying stablehands can quite stall.

Bundled up against that autumnal chill, T'rev crosses the bowl coming from the direction of the lake, shoulders hunched a little, hands stuck deeply in pockets. The bronzerider looks up as Mecaith wings past, heading upward towards their ledge and he snorts softly once. His progress onward brings him past where A'zan's straps loop. "G'eve," he greets as he nears, ever polite, though his usual sparkling cheer is somewhat muted this evening.

"Glanced at 'em before," Tiriana notes, waving a hand airily at the straps. "Still, weyr ought to be big and empty enough, right?" She casts a sideways look at him while she glances over the bowl, finding both Gay and T'rev as they near, though neither one really receives much more than that look and a flippant wave in greeting. Instead, she turns to look back at A'zan. "Wouldn't know why, with your charming personality and all. I'm not /up to/ anything, so."

Tamarisk comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.
Tamarisk has arrived.

Gay's got a sharp gaze when she's not distracted - and there's not a lot to distract her in the barren bowl, for all the usual traffic and movement. Dark eyes spot A'zan first amongst the small gathering and her steps angle in that direction, smile brilliant in contrast with T'rev's rather dimmed cheer. With a lifted hand for Tiriana and the others, she comes up just in time to catch the girl's last, noting easily, "You're usually up to somethin', aren't you? We all got things we're up to. Hey T'rev." No greeting for the seated bronzerider, just the flash of an odd little grin.

"Straps n' trouble?" T'rev asks in as flippant a tone as Tiriana's wave, though the flippancy is light in nature. He sways from foot to foot, likely because of the wind that keeps toying with his hair, no hat in evidence tonight. He flicks a glance back and forth between Tiriana and A'zan both curiously then digs one of those hands out of his pockets to salute Gay. "Hey Gay." A casual contrast to the salute's formality.

A'zan slowly glances over T'rev, then back to Tiriana with a light sigh. "It /was/ empty at least in this little spot around me. And just for the record I didn't mean what are you /up to/ I just meant what are you up to. As in how are you, how is your day. You know, light chitchat common to normal people?" T'rev gets a flick of a wave adn then a slower once over, one brow inching upward. "Chill getting to you, or something else?" And then there's Gay, whose odd grin is taken in with a hint of a smile that flashes over A'zan's lips. "Weyrwoman. And she does have a point, you usually /are/ up to something. So the denial makes me suspicious." That last of course to Tiriana again, along with the re-emergence of that little smile.

Tamarisk comes charging into the bowl, heedless of who or what might be there, a rag held up to his mouth, a red stain slowly growing more visible. But there is something -- someone -- in his path. Several someones, to be more exact, one of whom is the Weyrwoman. He fumbles with the rag, trying to pull off a proper salute, but only manages a crude wave of his left hand. "Weyrwoman, riderss," he mumbles through the cloth.

"Me?" Tiriana sounds innocent, aggrieved, even, that Gay would think such a thing. "Haven't been up to anything in... a long time. S'kind of boring." Beat. "We don't do light chitchat," she adds the latter to A'zan, with a Look. "But if you have to know, today's been dull. The same as ever. Nothing exciting ever happens in the stables lately; I think it's 'cause it's... getting winter." She trails off to eye Tamarisk as he runs over, giving the younger boy a brows-furrowed look.

Shoving hands in the pockets of her jacket, Gay glances T'rev's way curiously, pale brows arching for his muted quality and A'zan's question both. "You doin' all right? Need a scarf or something?" Finding a lean on a scrubby, high-branched tree almost as slender as she is - conveniently near Az's rock - she wrinkles her nose Tiriana's way, pointing out, "We're gonna have a /party/. Now you want daily entertainment?" And as she speaks, there is is, in form of Tamarisk - sympathetically, "Someone hit you?"

"Cold mostly," T'rev answers with a nod for A'zan and a wry little grin. "Everyone's hibernatin' huh, Tiriana?" Another pair of headbobs follows on Gay's query. "Forgot it up top," chin jerk upward. "Won't forget tomorrow though." Tamarisks arrival earns a little lift of brows and another ... nod. His hand's in his pocket and staying there.

Tamarisk shakes his head. "No ma'am. Someone spilled some grease on the floor and I slipped and busted my lip on the counter. Stupid drudges...." He pulls the cloth away from his mouth to study it for a moment, an irregular crimson patch staining dirty white cloth. This reveals his lip in all its swollen glory -- it looks like it might need a stitch or two. He tries for a smile behind the bloody cloth. "If you want interesting things goin' on, head for the kitchens or living cavern. 'Sides, it's warm in there." The other two riders earn a quick nod.

A'zan offers a sympathetic little tsk for Tiriana's plight. "Boring. We can't have that. Rev not showing you a good time? He seemed to think things were going so well." There's that smirk again, peeking out from pale eyes though his lips are carefully neutral. It dies in a beat though, replaced with a hint of concern and furrowed brows as Tamarisk comes up. "You should at least use a clean handkerchief for that," he remarks with more distaste than anything. "And the floor should be clean too." He opens his mouth as if more scolding might come but a glance at Gay just has him closing his mouth right back up again with a deep breath. "It's not really all that cold either. It's going to get much worse, and /then/ winter will hit. You should be getting used to it by now, T'rev."

"But it's /forever/ until the party," whines Tiriana, nose wrinkling. She shoots a sharp glower at A'zan when he mentions R'uen, and determinedly, loudly, continues, "And knowing it's coming makes everything else extra-boring. I don't like waiting." Surprise! Who didn't see that one coming? But the complaints are interrupted to study Tamarisk, to snicker when he tells his story, and finally to ask, "So... what're you running around out /here/ for?"

Gay doesn't look like she's really buying T'rev's explanation for his mood, but aside from a curious, concerned look, she's not about to press, just unlooping her own loose scarf and tossing it underhanded to the bronzerider. Then looking Tamarisk's way, she wrinkles her nose at the lip girlishly. Ew. "Man, you gotta get that looked at. Ouch." She visibly winces - and /she/ looks as if she say more when A'zan pokes at Tiriana, but when he stops, she does - and with a bounce of curls, she settles for ignoring him. To the other woman, amused, "You don't like anything."

T'rev makes a very soft choking sound, head bowed at A'zan's quip to Tiriana. But really he's not laughing, not at all, nope. He peeks upward after a moment, nodding Az-wards. "Yeah. I know. At least I ain't got five sweaters on anymore?" A good-natured grin follows and he's over his little laughing fit too apparently because he makes a sympathetic grimace at Tamarisk. "Ouch, them's the breaks. Best hope y'get the pretty lil' healer with the gentle hands and not the cranky, rough one." For Gay there's a pleasant smile and a lift of brows. "Party? Yeah? Great. Sounds like fun. Shindig'll get the blood all stirred up. GOod way to kick off winter." One handed, he catches the tossed scarf and looks up at Gay with a grateful nod. "Thank you."

"It's the kitchen, sir," says Tamarisk, just a touch irked at the rider's assumption. "We have rags, not handkerchiefs. An' this is a clean one." He removes it again and notices that the bleeding has lessened -- one good thing at least. "Gotta get to the infirmary -- head cook said it might need stitches," and he shoots Tiriana a hard look and the Weyrwoman a grateful one.

"Do too!" And Tiriana sounds mildly miffed about that accusation of Gay's, too. "I like parties, just nobody ever has enough of them. This is the first good one since, what'd we say, graduation?" And she glances to Gay, a brow raised for confirmation of the timing before she tacks on a smug addendum: "Party was my idea, anyway." The look she receives from Tamarisk just rolls off her back; she's probably used to them. She does smirk, though, when he provides her with something else to dig A'zan about. "Yeah, /they/--the real working people--have rags, not fancy little handkerchiefs like /some/ people," she agrees, eyeing the bronzerider. "I bet it's embroidered, right?"

A'zan seems just fine with Gay ignoring him, though he does let his eyes wander to her from time to time as the conversation swirls around them. "It does look like it needs stitches," he tacks on for Tamarisk's benefit as though he has all sorts of experience with these things. And with his attitude, he just might. "Rags. And grease spills that need cleaning, apparently." Up goes one dark brow, then the rider flicks a dismissive hand. "Maybe it's just the blood that's dirtying it up then. Either way you should probably get it seen to." It's odd to speak of stitches and scars in the same breath, so A'zan spends a few picking at his straps, then he casts weary eyes up at Tiriana. "Well, now we'll have something to entertain you so won't that be nice." He pauses then, a frown touching his brow. "A monogram isn't the same thing as embroidery." He mumbles it, looks back down at his work.

"Five sweaters. Damn, man. Are you serious?" Gay gives T'rev a blink, admitting, "I knew you were bundled up, but - seriously? Ought t'got for a swim around now, never think this is cold again." For Tamarisk's grateful look, she gives a little shrug. "I fall down sometimes," she offers, a little embarrassed for the admission, but resignedly so. "And yes, yes - your idea." The tall woman waves Tiriana off, telling her, "Plan the thing, an' we'll talk." However, even the dark-haired girl's smugness can't stop her from grinning widely at A'zan's answer to the question, nodding sagely. "Totally different." She looks down at him, eyes bright - she even sounds convinced. "But for like, not really at all."

"Good idea, then, Tiriana," T'rev says placidly and grins over at the girl. Accusations of embroidered handkerchiefs unaccountably draw a grin, but the younger of the two bronzeriders doesn't have an answering remark. "Stiches, no fun," is what T'rev has to offer for Tamarisk then he nods Gay's way. "Yep. First couple of cold seasons here, I looked like I'd been stuffed to get hung up on th'wall I had so many layers on. These days, I'm down t'two in the dead of winter, under my jacket, so yeah, s'getting better."

Tiriana eyes A'zan, then laughs, her expression triumphant at his admission. "Oh, it so is," she refutes that claim with a shake of her head. "You're so... prissy." Her lip curls, mockingly amused at the bronzerider--right up until Gay mentions planning the party. Where she'd been smug already, made moreso by T'rev's compliment, she stops preening abruptly. "What?" she says, and shoots a sharp look around at the goldrider, her eyes widening slightly. "Oh no. I don't /plan/. I'm just the... idea girl? The planning's for people like, well, Bri. The ones that it's their /job/ to plan. I just handle the stables, and we don't get to have parties there. Don't think the runners'd like it much."

Tamarisk nods, an expression of familiarity on his face, somewhere under the rag. "Excuse me, Weyrwoman, riders, Tiriana, but I have to go to the infirmary now to get it checked." He manages a rather less sketchy salute to Gay and manages a smirk for Tiriana, and a final nod to the bronzers before heading off to the infirmary.

Tamarisk moves beneath the rocky overhang that protects the Infirmary entrance.
Tamarisk has left.

A'zan casts a grateful look up at Gay but it quickly withers as he ammends her opinion at the last minute. Down go his eyes, back to the long black straps that he's working with. "Thank you all very much. My mother is a /weaver/ and there is nothing wrong with having a clean handkerchief. I've offered them to people plenty of times." That last with a more pointed little flick of pale eyes to Gay's dark ones. "People who appreciated my so called prissiness at the time." Ahem. "What sort of party are we talking about anyhow? Music? Food? Can we manage to get you into a new dress, Gay?"

Eyes brightened with amusement, Gay just shakes her head at T'rev, telling him, "You make me wanna push you in snow, yeah? I mean, I get it - I can't deal well with heat, for all it's okay for a few hours in winter. But still." With a grin that's meant to be at least a bit reassuring, she turns to smirk Tiriana's way, leaning back against her tree, arms folded. "Idea girl, gotcha. Well, hope it's up to your standards." Rolling gaze skyward briefly, she flicks a look back to A'zan, giving another of those nods, feigned sympathy. At the bronzerider's last, she narrows her gaze a touch, but notes, "Already got some." So there.

T'rev clears his throat lightly and pulls his own hanky out of his pocket. Fine red sisal, monogrammed and broidered in a block pattern of red-on-red around the edges. "Nothin' atall wrong with it and I like havin' nice ones m'self. They're real good for cryin' girls," the 'second notes musingly, then shrugs, grins and sticks the hanky back in his pocket. "You can if you want, Gay, ain't gonna bother me none. Like the snow at least, s'fun. And I've been tryin' to get my skin to thicken up gradualt like, wearin' less n' less every winter." His grin for Gay continues unperturbed, 'til it widens at Az' last. "Yeah but a /new/ one'd look good, yeah."

Tiriana notices those glances passing between Gay and A'zan, and she peers between the pair herself, but doesn't seem to think any more of it than than. Instead, "Like who?" she challenges A'zan. "And people with no standards to start with don't count." And while A'zan looks pointedly at Gay, Tiriana looks pointedly at T'rev, however low the likelihood of the bronzeriders sharing hankies might be. She is, at least, quickly distracted by A'zan's latter words, and turns to Gay. "Oh, yeah. You said you'd show me--that's when we decided to have a party, you know," she adds the last in an aside to the two men.

The idea of Gay actually having some new dresses draws A'zan's attention and his brows slip upward. "Really? I think we should all tramp into your weyr for a demonstration right now. Offer our opinions." There's an actual grin, inching onto his lips lopsidedly as mirth touches his eyes. He blinks then, eyeing T'rev. "Wrestling with the Weyrwoman in the snow, yeah I bet that sounds like fun. Warmer than one might think too, mm?" Though there's less mirth there it's not really irritated either, more dry than anything. And the fancy handkerchief gets a second glance. "Mine's not even that nice." Out his comes, perfectly clean but simply white, with a similarly colored A stitched in the corner. "Now who's prissy?" For Tiriana just a shake of his head. "I've given them away several times. Gay, Yronica, I might have even offered one to you."

Arching brows at the hanky from the younger of the bronzeriders - who knew? - understanding dawns on Gay's expression when he says 'girls'. "Ah, got it." With a quirk of her lips, and infinite patience, "I /meant/ new ones." That's not what she said, but clearly, T'rev should have known that. At Tiriana's last, she gives a grin and nods, telling the others, honestly, "It is. I sorta realized I didn't used to need a reason for parties. And it had kinda been awhile. -- I am not tryin' on my dresses for your entertainment." That last is for A'zan, with another narrowed look - though his comment to T'rev gets an arched brow, an amused twitch of her lips.

T'rev makes quirky brows and a quirkier grin A'zan's way. "Sure if you say so, Az," the younger bronzerider remarks, unfussed by the implication there. "Snowballs're good too." The light of understanding dawns on his face at Gay's elaboration. "Ohhh, well guess we'll get t'see you all resp- respl- oh shaffit, lookin' good at the party then." His hanky-bearing pocket is patted fondly. "Sisal feels better on your nose too when y'got a cold." With a sunny grin for Tiriana and that look.

"You are," Tiriana, ever blunt, insists to A'zan. "And you can /offer/, but I don't need one and even if I did, I wouldn't use /yours/." Her smirk is the 'so there' at the end of that. But however much she harasses him about the handkerchief, she's on his side when it comes to Gay. "Why not?" she counters the Weyrwoman's refusal, her own mouth setting into a pout. "You promised."

Even A'zan is not above siding with Tiriana when it serves him, and so he lets her snarky comments pass in favor of hounding Gay. He too pockets his hanky and sets aside the section of strap he's working on. "Well there you go. You gave your word. And it isn't /entertainment/, hon. We'll be able to make sure the color and fit are-" he pauses, flicking a glance at Tiriana, then T'rev and then sighing. "Anyhow. You should try them on. And I feel the need to mention, knowing a thing or two about clothes isn't prissy either. R'uen wears sweater vests." This with a pointed look at R'uens not-girlfriend. Offhandedly at the end he just nods to T'rev. "Right. And the word is respectable."

Airily - and with a touch of self-deprecation - "I try." Gay flashes T'rev a grin and gives a bit of a shrug. "An' we'll see when it snows, I guess." With a pained look Tiriana's way, she gives the girl wide, dark eyes - give me a break here? "Said I'd show /you/, not like - them." Flicking a pale hand towards the bronzeriders, she's about to go on and dismiss them totally before A'zan starts and stops, clearly the one entertained now. "Well, not like I just like, bought something random. People /dressed/ me, I just mostly only complained when I hated it. But y'know. Far be it from me to prevent you from like, providing an expert opinion. Or somethin' like that." At the comment about Rev, the redhead has to take a moment to think - does he? With a shrug a moment after, "I dunno if I do /respectable/."

"Resp-len-dant," T'rev sounds out carefully with a 'so there' look at A'zan. Respectable. Totally not what he meant. "Ain't nothin' wrong with lookin' good in your togs, boy or girl," is the 'second's assessment and he winds Gay's scarf a little more tightly around his neck, digs gloves out of pockets and puts them on. "If I'm gonna freeze my arse off in the winter, I wanna look good doin' it." His grin answers Gay, friendly, but not warmer than that. "You got it," he answers in relaxed fashion and tilts a look over at Tiriana's pout. Mirth playing across his face as Gay says she'd show the girl but not himself or Az. "S'ok, I wasn't really askin' to be let in on th'fashion show. Happy enough to see everyone all dressed up at th'party."

Tiriana doesn't even have the grace to look guilty about sticking Gay on the hot seat. "It's not like they're not going to eventually see anyway," she points out, glancing to both bronzeriders.. "You aren't going to, like, make me go get /my/ dresses and try 'em on, too, just for company?" She studies Gay, almost thoughtful, until A'zan's retort makes her freeze. Stiffening, she recovers to round on him a second later. "Shut up! He does not. But at least he looks good when he does," she snaps, a flush creeping up her neck even as she just has to retort--though she doesn't seem to know which story she's going for.

"Resplendant. I think you'd do resplendant much better than respectable at that, Gay." A'zan smiles up at her, softer and warmer than T'rev's simply friendly. Then he blinks, glances over at Tiriana and just nods, aiming for casual. "If you have more than one dress you need to pick which one to wear anyway. Don't girls like help with that sort of thing? Both of you." Tiriana's back and forth and flush brings a deeper smirk to his lips and he nods. "Yes. He does. And there's nothing wrong with that, but watch who you're jabbing for having fashion sense, mmm?"

Gay beams over T'rev's way for the compliment, though she does have to ask, "Isn't it hard t'look good with five sweaters on? When it's really cold, I say screw lookin' good. Stay as warm as possible." As the breeze picks up into a proper wind with a edge of chill, she wrinkles her nose at the thought. "No, I -" In mid-answer to Tiriana, she stops as the younger woman snaps at A'zan; grinning, "He does tend t'look good most of the time." After, there's a pause for A'zan's compliment and smile, and then Tiriana's not the only one beginning to blush. More practiced at hiding it, she dips her chin to let curls cover her face as she asks, "You need to pick ahead of time? Like, how far ahead of time?"

"Yeah, that'd kinda be the point," T'rev answers, still unruffled. "Rather have nice stuff as keeps me warm without needin' /that/ many layers." There's blushing going on and his eyes skip around from here to there. "I like doin' hair," he suddenly offers over, a propos of nothing. "But I guess I ain't got as good taste 'bout clothes as Rev does."

"Why are we talking about him, his clothes?" Tiriana asks, when R'uen keeps coming up. She's still pinkish, releasing an exasperated sigh when all three of them mention the absent bronzerider. Her own fashion sense is a welcome distraction. To Gay: "Um. I don't know. I usually just pick something day of, don't really plan it all out. Why, do y--of course /you/ don't. You only have one dress. Or did, anyway," she amends herself, flush fading finally. "My hair does fine on its own," is added a second later, as she eyes T'rev and then plucks at a couple of strands of her dark hair.

"I always pick ahead of time," A'zan offers his opinion easily. "That way I can make sure nothing needs airing or brushing, that I didn't lose a button that I never noticed, that sort of thing." Slowly then his eyes sliiiide over to T'rev. "You do hair? Since when?" And then for Tiriana a little smirk. "Because it's the only thing that makes you turn red with something other than anger. And it's so much fun."

Above, From the Telgar Star Stones, L'klal, riding burnished bronze Pteynth, backwings to a clean landing and settles, replacing Tadara's steely blue Agrarth on watchrider duty.

Likewise bemused by the hair thing, Gay blinks over at T'rev - then just shrugs. "Well, hey. Whatever works. I never managed t'do much with mine. And I think we're talkin' about Rev because we like him?" She arches brows Tiriana's way - that's her opinion - but then gives a little grimace, pointing out, "I had a green dress too. I just didn't like it as much." Flicking a sidelong glance towards A'zan as he continues to needle Tiriana, she tells him, "You /are/ fussy. I mean - I guess there's a point t'doing it that way, but I hardly ever think that much about it till I have to get ready." Which might account for a few things, her out-of-control curls among them.

"Since I was old enough t'hold a brush," T'rev replies promptly. "Use t'help my mother with the kids' hair in the morning. My littlest sister used t'get rats nests the size of burr bushes. Could hardly believe hair could do that. Anyhow, yeah, I can fix up as pretty a braid as anyone, just about." Beat. "Somethin' else girls seem t'like." With a cocky little grin and quick look at Tiriana's hair. "Shame, yours'd look good put up all loose like with th'curls fallin' down." And all of that's said in a totally unashamed tone. Who's prissy now indeed. Az' continued baiting of Tiriana, edges the grin on his face wider though. "I ain't much of a planner neither, Tiri. But then, I kinda tend t'buy everything in red, black or brown, maybe a little green. As for Rev, yeah, he's a good egg." Agreement with Gay.

At least Tiriana believes A'zan's explanation regarding R'uen. T'rev's and Gay's earn much more dubious looks, even though she's for once smart enough to let the subject along, not keep picking at it. Instead, she settles for pulling at her hair again, tugging those strands to where she can see them. "You think so?" she asks T'rev. "I like it down. Never put it up unless I have to." Eyeing her hair, brushing her fingers through it, now occupies her mind, distracting her from countering with anything but a, "I like red. And not worrying about all that--I always look good anyway, so."

A'zan arches a brow at Gay and then just shakes his head. "A little planning saves a lot of hassle at the last minute, that's all. It's a good principle for a lot more than just clothes, but it does apply to them." He leans over to start collecting his straps, looping them over his shoulder and finally pushing himself up to his feet. "I'm sure we'll all look just fantastic when the day comes. Let's just hope it doesn't rain." Ever the sunny optimist, A'zan's words are nonetheless light, a hint of a smile actually touching his lips for his own gloomy tendencies. Probably best not to opine on Tiriana's hair OR Gay's so instead he just flips a wave with his free hand. "I nned to go make sure the fit on these is still good after patching. Enjoy the rest of your evening... maybe you all should go inside so T'rev can get warm."

"Huh." Gay considers T'rev for a moment before, "I wouldn't let my brothers near me with a brush." She sounds a touch disturbed by the idea, giving a little shudder as she flicks a glance Tiriana's way, watching her play with her hair with a wry quirk of a smile. "I like orange," she notes. "And I guess like, orange-like colours. But not red, so much. On me, anyway." About to go on, she stops herself visibly, then purses her lips at A'zan's comment about the weather, telling him a bit exasperatedly, "Don't /talk/ about rain. An' yeah, planning - applies all over." More concerned with the potential curse on the bonfire than the idea of forethought, she watches the darker-haired man a moment, then gives him slight, warm smile and a nod. "See you later, Az."

"Yeah, with that red dress, an' some combs on the sides," T'rev gestures vaguely to the sides of his head. "Smashing. Not that y'don't look great anyhow, but it'd be elegant 'stead o' wild beauty," he says bluntly, because if Tiri can do blunt, so can this particular bronzerider. "I like red too. But with a little orange in it. Forget the name for the shade, but I like it anyhow," Thunderbolt's 'second muses on colors. "Oh I'm good, I'm good," he waves off A'zan's concern though his nose is getting pink and he's bouncing on the balls of his feet again. "Clear skies, Az, see you at drills in the morning."

A'zan goes home.
A'zan has left.

"But I'm not elegant," Tiriana counters, nose wrinkling at the very thought. 'Wild beauty' makes her preen just a little bit, though. "And I still don't think I'd let you touch my hair. It's kinda cold to be outside in /that/ dress, too--even if it /is/ my favorite." She waves a hand absently after A'zan, then notes, "Don't have brothers, but Cyrra and I got ready together sometimes. She doesn't like parties, though." And Tiriana herself sounds completely befuddled by that before she can shrug it off. "And the stuff she likes wearing is... Well. Dull."

Above, Xoneth leaps from Xoneth's Ledge and flies into the air.
Xoneth backwings for a landing.
Xoneth has arrived.

Jenivrys slides down from Xoneth.
Jenivrys has arrived.

Gay watches after A'zan for a moment or two, asking T'rev absently, "Russet? Rust? Somethin' like that?" She's leaning against a slender evergreen near the living cavern entrance, tucking curls back behind her ears as she looks back to the bronzerider and Tiriana, noting, "You /could/ be elegant. I dunno that I can be, because of the fallin' over? But it'd be nice." With a wry grin, she adds to the girl, a bit tentative, "Well, you can like, come over before the damn thing if you want. An' it is sorta cold t'not have your back covered, yeah. Unless you got a shawl or something."

"Russet," T'rev's fingers snap as Gay names the color correctly. "And yeah, elegant'd be a change, just another way t'look good. Though you're damn fine th'way you are." More with the blunt and complimentary on the bronzerider's part. "And I think Cyrra looked nice last time I saw her dressed up. Nice girl, your sister." Shoulders hunching further inward, he seems to be trying to brave out the increasing chill as twilight thickens across the Bowl.

In the dusk Xoneth's distinctive size and shape appears high up, safely out of flight patterns, the brown makes a lazy spiral of the bowl.

In the dusk Xoneth's distinctive size and shape appears high up, safely out of flight patterns, before the brown makes a lazy spiraling descent. He ends up not far from the trio, his head cocking as he considers them. On his back Vrys pauses in her unstrapping, likewise studying the group, but it's only a moment before she slips down to approach them, hesitating with a salute at the ready just outside conversational distance.

Tiriana's eyes narrow slightly. "Yeah?" she asks Gay, glancing down at herself and tugging at her shirt; her expression grows thoughtful for a few seconds, until she looks back up at the older woman. She suggests with a shrug, "Maybe if you just stood still? Dunno. Don't have that problem, myself. --Really?" The latter offer makes her blink, brows knitting not-quite-believingly. But she still agrees, "Okay. I will," with her own tentative attempt at a smile. It's one that disappears quickly when she looks to T'rev. "Nice. Right," the girl repeats the bronzerider, in a tone that says 'nice' isn't such a nice thing to be, as far as she's concerned. The latest arrival she doesn't notice just yet, involved in her conversation.

R'uen walks here from the north.
R'uen has arrived.

"The dress that I like most is kinda that colour, but darker. I think." Gay's got to think about it for a few moments, pale brows furrowed a touch. After a little shrug - whatever - she nods Tiriana's way, admitting, "Never really thought of like, standin' still. I usually gotta do the rounds. And I don't /always/ trip - outside's worse than inside for it. An' - sure." The goldrider's about as unsure as the younger woman about the whole idea, but she just gives a nod, curls bouncing. Glancing out into the bowl, she sees Jenivrys approaching and offers a half-salute. "Evening."

Caught up in the conversation, T'rev doesn't catch Vrys' arrival at first. "Yeah, nice," he says again about Cyrra and his grin shades a little wry. "And yeah? Dark russet? Bet that looks sweet on you," to Gay, again with the blunt compliments. The Weyrwoman's hail to Vrys, turns his head and he's got a salute in turn too. "Heya Vrys!" And now, /now/ his smile gets all warm and fuzzy as he greets his clutchmate. "We're talkin' about clothes n' parties and whether or not Rev's got style. Got thoughts?"

If Vrys had thoughts, they're temporarily displaced by the need to salute and offer around, "Ma'am, sir, Tiriana," to the proper faces. "I...," she adds, shifting her helmet under one arm as she draws a couple of steps closer, eyes flicking from face to face. "Well, no. Not really. I've never looked at, I mean, not since we were weyrlings, but. I suppose he's handsome?" Which wasn't precisely what was asked, but she gives Tiriana an uncertain smile anyway.

Gay's words make Tiriana roll her eyes, release an exasperated sigh. "You're the /Weyrwoman/," she tells her, as though that weren't obvious. "They should come to you. They're the ones that want to go talk to you--why would you have to go associating with all the nobodies?" She just shakes her head at that--then groans. "Not him again," she responds to the mention of R'uen, making a face. A beat later, though: "You suppose?" She scowls at Jenivrys, although it's debatable if that's for calling R'uen handsome or for being not so certain about it.

R'uen comes strolling up, stride easy and hands tucked in his jacket pockets. His trousers are pressed, his vest sporting a touch of pink in its pin-stripe. At first his trajectory has him heading toward the lake, but when he notes the collection of familiar faces he changes course, lifting his chin as a casual, wordless greeting.

Gay gives T'rev a smirk, telling him, "It better. I wasn't sure about it, but they told me it looked good. I threatened t'come back and only get stuff off the rack if it doesn't." With a quick smile for Vrys, she looks over at Tiriana with a sigh. "Not the nobodies. Like, if a Holder comes for a party an' they're my /guest/ I have to go say hi. Sure, it's annoying, but it's the way it is." As for R'uen's attractiveness, seems you're damned if you do and damned if you don't there; she wisely keeps her opinion to herself - though it doesn't seem like she was lying about liking the bronzerider, as his approach brings a wide, bright smile.

Looking cold and bundled what is mostly likely one of Gay's scarves, given the orange and white alternating stripes with an accent of bright green, T'rev's got his hands stuck deep in his pockets, clearly trying to brave out the chillier weather of Telgar's autumn. "Heh, there you go, keep them Weavers in line," he approves Gay's strategy with a warm grin. And here comes the very man of the hour whose ears should be burning. "Nice vest!" T'rev says jauntily, a hint of wicked humor in his eyes. He winks at Vrys even and reaches for her free hand to draw her closer, a brow lifted questioningly likely for her own uncertainty.

Jenivrys has nothing, apparently, to say regarding Weavers, or buying off the rack. She does drop a nod for Gay's explanation of doing the rounds, and once R'uen's noticed, gives him the same little smile and hesitant salute the others received. "Evening," she says, neatly avoiding both any possibly suppositions about R'uen's looks and the hand T'rev's holding to her as well. She does mention that, "I've never bought anything from... well, just at Gathers and things. Little things, like a new scarf. Otherwise I get all my clothes from the stores."

Oh no! There's R'uen--and he's wearing a vest. Quickly, to distract herself from that horror, Tiriana tells Gay, "If they're a guest, they should still come talk to you. You'd go talk to them at a Hold, right? Not make them come out to get you in the middle of the courtyard? Holders are annoying." She shrugs, shoots another look back at R'uen and then away, covering her face with one hand at T'rev's greeting to his clutchmate.

"Like the sunshine," R'uen says, returning Gay's bright grin as he remarks on it. "How are you doing tonight?" A question that starts with the goldrider and then spreads around to everyone else as he comes to stand beside Tiriana. Hand in his pocket, he spreads one side of his jacket open to glance down at the vest in question. "Thanks," easy and honest, not realizing that such things have been under recent discussion. He gives the stablehand a weird little look for her face-hiding.

"Yeah, well - I used t'do that. Then people made me stop and buy stuff, or get things made. And if you can, does kinda look better." Gay tells Jenivrys all this a bit grudgingly, starting to push off the tree she's leaned against. Looking over to Tiriana, she admits, "They usually meet me in the courtyard, actually. Just sorta - polite, I guess? It's protocol or something like that. Showin' respect." Shrugging, she beams back at Rev again for the comment. "Aren't you the charmer, yeah? Doin' okay, but I think I ought to go grab my dinner. I still got some stuff t'do tonight after. I'll see you all later, though?"

THere's another perplexed look Vrys' way, brief and T'rev shrugs, sticks his gloved hand back in his pocket and hunches his shoulders again. Cold, cold, cold. "I dunno if diplomacy works that way if I'm rememberin' right from Weyrling training," he hazards about holders and people talking to other people. "S'worth gettin' something nice now and then, Vrys," he notes about finery. "Wanna go sometime?" R'uen's global greeting earns a little nod and a sheepish: "Cold, but otherwise okay." He's got a salute for Gay again and another smile. "Enjoy, Gay. And clear skies."

Gay heads up the stairs toward Liabeth's ledge.
Gay has left.

Vrys shifts her helmet again, this time to hold it in both hands in front of her. "You're a goldrider," she tells Gay, as if that were either news or relevant, adds, "Good night, ma'am." Her eyes skip over Tiriana, flick away from R'uen, finally come to rest on the tree Gay's departed. "I... wouldn't know what to buy from a Weaver in the first place. Would you, R'uen?" Oh sure, throw the ball to the vested bronzerider.

"Huh. Well, /I/ wouldn't," Tiriana amends herself, with a shrug at Gay's words when she lifts her hand away again. R'uen she tries very hard not to look at--except for a glower when he thanks T'rev. Both bronzeriders, in fact, receive pretty much the same look, until T'rev mentions actually going to the weaver hall. "I need a new dress," Tiriana perks back up. "For the party." And she slides a completely unsubtle look sideways at R'uen. She just can't help adding, "So I can be wildly beautiful and elegant, like T'rev said. He went on and on about how he loves my hair and wants to touch it and how I always look so good." And then Jenivrys earns herself a rather ugly look, too, when she directs a question at R'uen, though Tiriana doesn't say anything on that count just yet.

T'rev just rolls his eyes amiably upward at Tiriana's hyperbole and tucks his nose downward into the scarf around his neck. "A dress, Vrys, in a color you really like with soft fabric and swirly skirts. Y'know. Fun to dance in," the 'Second suggests. "Maybe Rev can do your hair for the party, Tiri, I bet he's real good with his hands," he continues, all airy deadpan humor with a sidelong glance slid Jenivrys' way to see her reaction about his description of that possible dress.

R'uen gives a small tip of his head to Gay's departure, though his smile is still big and bright for her. But brows go up for Jenivrys' question. "From the weavercraft? What kind of thing are you thinking of buying?" He's still catching up on the topic at hand. Of course, it's just a beat later that Tiriana starts going on about, well, her whole being beautiful deal and then R'uen just starts to laugh a bit. "He said all that, did he?" Flashing that smile at the stablehand and tossing a conspiring look at T'rev.

The brownrider, almost as slow as R'uen, echoes blankly, "Party?" The vicious look from Tiriana causes her to flush and drop her eyes, sidle a step backwards toward Xoneth. She misses, then, any sidelong glances. "Oh, I'm not buying anything. I... I have a dress I wear for parties. It's the brown one? I wore it at, when we, for the, the party when we were Candidates."

"We'd never make it to the party," Tiriana answers T'rev with a smug smirk spreading across her face. It's dimmed somewhat by R'uen's answer, his smile, and with the beginnings of a pout pursing her lips, she looks between the two bronzeriders and frowns. "Yes," she insists stubbornly. "He did." At least there's Jenivrys to lift her temper just a little bit, even if the brownrider started some of her pique. "Brown," repeats Tiriana, and snickers. "Brown is boring. Nobody remembers boring. But then I guess that's a good thing if you're wearing it over and over again."

T'rev laughs brightly. "That'd be a right shame, well almost." And he grins over at R'uen with equal brightness. "Sure did, thought she'd look smashing with it all kind of piled on top with just some curls comin' down. Y'know, at the back of her neck." And if his eyes are dancing oh so wickedly, well there was that conspiratorial look of Rev's to answer. He opens mouth to say something nice about Vrys' dress and memory fails utterly. "Could be kinda nice t'spoil yourself a little with something new, yeah?" he suggests to Xoneth's rider.

"Oh Jeni, you should treat yourself. Get something new, something with a little flash," R'uen encourages, taking some liberty to call her by that name. "Bat some lashes at T'rev, maybe he'll drop the marks for it." Now he's just trying to get T'rev in trouble, it makes his grin impish. And so does that pout on Tiriana's lips. "What are you wearing? Did you need to stop by the hall?" And this comes with a touch of seriousness and some earnest interest.

Jenivrys stops retreating, her chin coming up in an uncharacteristic display of stubbornness. "I -like- brown. It isn't either boring - it's a very pretty dress. I just don't see any, any need to waste marks. Mine or anyone else's." Now she flicks a look sideways at T'rev, drops her eyes again. "I just - I should report in for sweeps. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Sure. If /you're/ boring too." Tiriana, having found a sore point in Jenivrys, digs it as much as she can, smirking when the woman announces she has to go. Turning to look at T'rev and R'uen smugly, Tiriana agress, "I would look good. Not that I don't already." Though R'uen's latter question makes her pause. "I don't know," confesses the stablehand. "Haven't decided yet--usually don't, until that day. Something kinda warm, though, 'cause it's cold and outside and... that's about as far as I got."

"Actually, that's kind of what I was offerin'," T'rev replies to Rev's teasing with a grin. "I got plenty from the last pot I won. Be nice to spoil you a little Vrys." Earnestly. A smirk follows for R'uen's offer to Tiriana. "Yeah, she was just saying. Besides, when does Tiriana ever turn down a shot at lookin' good?" Friendly teasing and his eyes scan the whole trio of nearby faces. Vrys' sudden chinlift brings out a blink. "Sure," he placates, "ain't nothin' wrong with brown, just sometimes it's ... good to treat yourself to something special, that's all." He nods though, suddenly all business as she mentions sweeps. "Consider yourself checked in," and his eyes go vague. "Yep, Yvel's back in." There's a salute following too.

"Aw now, brown can be hot," R'uen says in Jenivrys' defense. "Now I'm trying to remember the dress, but it's been like, what, three or four turns now? Something crazy like that." He reaches for Tiriana, not for her waist of her hand or anything like that, but for her upper arm, trying to tug her a step toward him. "So you're gonna surprise me, are you?" her asks her with his eyes narrowed and his voice almost threatening--or it would be if he wasn't still smiling and there wasn't a spark of laughter in his dark eyes. And without missing a beat he glances back to Jenivrys, "You're heading off already?"

"I'm a dragonrider," Vrys returns calmly, tucking her helmet beneath her elbow once more. "I don't think -any- of us are boring." There's a beat, like she'd add something else to the girl, but then Vrys turns to the men with equal shallow nods. "I should go wash up. No use standing around talking about clothing when I smell like I just got through with sweeps. Clear skies, all of you."

When R'uen grabs her arm, Tiriana sets her heels, plants all her weight into leaning back away from him. It's a very passive sort of resistance, however, for the show of it, the pleasure of being difficult, more than for escaping his grip. "Maybe," she retorts with self-satisfied impudence. "Gay and I are getting ready together. /She/ has a new dress, too, fina--" She breaks off, slackening her pull on R'uen to look around at Jenivrys. She glares, opens her own mouth to retort, but when she fails to come up with anything sufficiently cutting this time, she quickly turns back to R'uen, her question hasty: "What are you going to wear. Not--" And her free hand reaches to flick at the vest he wears, a disdainful expression allowing her to regain her bearings.

T'rev opens his mouth to argue with Vrys about the smell but he just smiles instead. "Okay. Have a nice bath, Vrys, catch you later, okay?" His smiles continues bright for the brownrider then his gaze skips back to Tiriana and R'uen, amused. "It's a nice vest, Tiriana. Makes /him/ look good," he notes idly and makes a face. "Okay, I'm for the caverns and warm klah. I can't pretend I'm not freezing anymore."

"I've been told I'm terribly boring, too. In fact, I've lost count of how many times. Poor Tiriana, patient creature that she is, she just keeps putting up with me." And R'uen's grinning at Tiriana now for her little resistance, like it's some weird game. "Not this?" he asks for her gesture at his clothes. "Maybe I should bat my lashes at T'rev and he'll buy me something new, since Jenivrys isn't taking him up on it, huh?" But his next teasing smile starts to fall as it turns out both companions are leaving. "Hey, have a good night, guys. Good luck with your clothes, huh?"

"I'll have klah with you after?" Vrys tells T'rev as she passes, touching his arm briefly. "Thank you, R'uen. Goodnight." That last, perfectly polite and bland, for Tiriana before she heads into the living caverns.

Jenivrys walks beneath the lintel and disappears into the living cavern.
Jenivrys has left.

As soon as Vrys has disappeared into the caverns Xoneth shifts onto his haunches and lifts off, winging for the steam baths.

"So?" Tiriana doesn't exactly deny R'uen looks good in his vest, even as she tugs at it again, frowning. "A'zan made fun of it, the vest. You should hit him again," she instead tells R'uen. And muttered, albeit reluctantly, under her breath for him, "Not boring." Pulling her attention from the vest, she doesn't quite look at him but does turn to glance at T'rev and Jenivrys. While the latter receives nothing from her, the former at least gets a, "See you."

"Sure, the boringest bronzer ever," T'rev teases R'uen lightly, grinning from ear to ear, clearly not meaning it. Or the opposite even. "You want clothes though, you just ask, your lashes bein' batted at me that kinda scares me Rev." He waves jauntily as he moves to step away towards the caverns. "See you, Tiriana. Clear skies both." And he's off.

T'rev walks beneath the lintel and disappears into the living cavern.
T'rev has left.

Xoneth has left.

As their company heads off, R'uen gives Tiriana another tug toward him. "Cold?" He asks her, grinning broadly again. "You gonna wear red again?" he asks, because oh yes, he remember some dresses from candidate dinner long ago. "So I'm not boring, huh?" That does curl his smile to a terrible smirk.

Mecaith goes home.
Mecaith has left.

Without the company watching, Tiriana's much more willing to give in, step over to R'uen's side. "No," she denies, even when she leans one shoulder up against him. "Maybe. Think it'd be too cold for /that/ one, though, and my other dresses, they're all different colors." Pause. "And I dunno know what you're talking about," she answers his smirk with a lofty sniff.

"Mm, a very recultant admission," he teases her, enjoying that lofty sniff. "So I won't even get a peek, huh? Of what you're wearing? Do you still have that red dress?" And it's sure now, but the light of his eyes, that all sorts of thoughts are coming to him.

"You get to see it at the party," Tiriana answers, firm about that. "Or if you come to Gay's to pick me up--/after/ we're done getting fixed up." The look he wears earns a suspicious one from her, her brows knitting as she leans more heavily on him. "Of course. Why?" she wonders.

"You should wear it again sometime," R'uen tells her, having mostly forgotten about other dresses for the moment. "For me. That red dress." His hands find her waist, slipping beneath her jacket to better feel that narrow curve. "What's that about Gay?" he remembers as an afterthought.

Tiriana lifts a brow, a slow smirk overtaking her frown as he explains. "Yeah?" she queries. "Maybe I will. Since, y'know, you ask so nice and all." It's certainly a thought that pleases her, too, to judge by her own expression. The mention of Gay pulls her away from the idea, too, however. "Huh? Oh, yeah. She said she'd show me the new dresses she bought the other day, and then we got to talking, and she said I could come over before the party and ll."

"I did ask nicely," R'uen agrees, even if there was no real asking involved. "You and Gay are getting along better these days?" His brows lift, mouth pursing to a slight frown as he considers this. "I thought you weren't too fond of her."

"Well, ask me better," amends Tiriana, with a shrug, a pointed look, though she frowns and glances away at the latter question. "Oh. Yeah. Well, I'm not," she says, only when reminded of it. "But she's... trying to be nice to me, I guess, so... If I piss her off she might still, you know. Make me go back."

"Well -that- would be very sad," R'uen tells her, one arm slinging behind her possesively. He could ask more about Gay, or about Tiriana's enforced lifestyle change and the retirement of her fists, but instead he bows his head toward her ear to murmur. "Red dress?"

"Glad you think so," answers Tiriana, not quite able to hide her smugness, that cat-ate-the-canary smirk that his words and arm inspire. Almost before he can get the question out, she's agreeing, "Okay," and tugging at him, countering with her own impatient, "Where's the sharding dragon?"

R'uen draws his head away from her in a jerk across the bowl where Zaiventh is posturing for some green, but his eyes don't leave that pleased smirk and his own mouth echoes it readily.

And that's all Tiriana needed to know. While R'uen might be content to watch her, she's already trying to wriggle loose of his arm in favor of grabbing his hand and tugging harder as she starts for the bronze.