Scurry! Or, The Whore and the Homo
Who: Kasadel, Leova, L'vae, Luttrell, Milani, N'thei, Oysric, Sunniva, Tiriana
When: Day 11, Month 11, Turn 17
Where: Orchards, Nabol Hold
What: The Reachians help harvest apples.
Notes: I couldn't decide on a title. :(
Orchards, Nabol Hold
Situated near the main Hold, down a gentle slope in an insulated valley lies Nabol's vast fruit orchards. Apple trees dominate the landscape, though sections, delineated by sturdy wooden fences, are portioned out for plums, peaches, cherries, and pears. Dark, fertilized earth is well tended and cared for beneath the trees, while the free space of grassy knolls roll downward into the orchards. In the distance is an apple refinery, where overripe fruits are sent to be pressed into ciders, both hard and not.
The apple harvest is in full swing, large baskets placed at intervals along the fences and throughout the acres of apple trees. Carts line the entrance to the apple orchards, some meant to travel up to the refinery, while others return to the main hold. The colors in the orchard are changing from green to the warmth of autumnal reds, oranges, and gold.
Contents:
Oysric
Sunniva
Luttrell
Kasadel
Milani
Obvious exits:
Nabol Hold
"Well there's been the homesick crying from some," Milani points out, "and some confusion over things, but no pranks or bad falls, a few little bumps and scrapes, otherwise, smooth sailing," she elaborates and ducks her head a little at Sunniva's exclamations, masking the likely fit of giggles. When she looks up again it's to say: "I agree about the washing. Better to wait until most of these have gone through the sinks. So many /bugs/."
"Oh, but that one-" Sunniva makes a face when Luttrell picks up an apple she'd discarded of, voicing the rest of the thought in a sigh. She starts to move, then stops again upon hearing the question; she half-turns to seek out the source. "It does not make you a bad person, no," Sunniva calls back to Oysric, forehead creasing just a little. Puzzled. That puzzlement fades a little when Milani speaks and she nods, fervently. "/Exactly/. They are just so- so /filthy/."
Kasadel straightens his back, giving Oysric a long look as though he's inclined to be offended - and then he breaks into a grin. "I'm a reformed man, Oysric. All work, no girls, very well behaved. Really boring. Thanks, though." He sounds - not proud, just satisfied, as though this whole thing was always in the plan. ""m not afraid of any dirt," he adds, to the group at large, shrugging. "Natural, really. All of it. Just dirt."
Filthy, what? Doesn't bother Tiriana, who's juggling two apples into one hand so she can use the free hand to take the one she has in her teeth then. With a bite out of it, she wanders the crops, not so much working just now; the sweat she's worked up, though, testifies to recent exertion as she now cuts across the orchards at a lazy pace that eventually nears Milani and company. "Bugs?" says the goldrider, although it's distorted around the mouthful of apple. Now she eyes the ones she's collected with a frown like that didn't occur to her earlier.
Oysric almost looks ready to pick up an apple and start eating it right in front of Sunniva. But he instead nudges a rather damaged apple out of the way and continues on. Toward Milani, Oysric merely nods to her again. "Homesickness, I can understand," he replies. The stablehand can only chuckle aloud at Kasadel's reaction, nodding once before grinning back at him, replying: "I'll believe it when I see it, Kasadel." He continues eating that one apple in his left. No washing for him either. He glances toward Tiriana with a smirk before replying, "I heard once that if you eat a bug, it would fester inside your body and grow -really- long." Now he really does take a bite in front of someone, it's a rather satisfying sound of the stablehand taking the last bite into the apple he's had with him.
"All work, no girls," Milani asks Kasadel with a bright laugh. " That /does/ sound boring," she notes to the candidate with a wink then looks up at Tiriana's arrival. "You know, eating the stuff," and she holds up an example, worms this time, crawling in a greenish apple and she doesn't even bother to flick them off, just tosses the fruit off towards the pile where she's been putting other cast-offs. Oysric earns an eye-roll. "Oh please, everyone knows that's not true."
"No kidding," Kasadel tells Milani mournfully, his head shaking for emphasis. "Working right now, Oysric," he points out to the Stablehand, and indeed, he is still working on filling his basket. "And no girls on my lap, or doing naughty things with me - not even eyeing any up!" Aside from Tiriana, whose approach draws his glance, but, really, only for a few moments, and with mostly disinterest. "Did your Mummy tell you that, to make you stop eating insects?" he adds to Oysric, expression wicked.
"Lies," Tiriana agrees, and this seems to make up her mind for her as she very deliberately takes another bite of her apple. The other couple, she gives another look for a minute before she gives up looking for a pocket to stuff them in and just holds onto them. They do not make it onto the pile for the Weyr's reserves just now. "Were there ever any of them eyeing you up?" she then misunderstands Kasadel, arguably on purpose, as she glances at Oysric and Milani as if to ask if they've ever seen proof of as much.
High above the orchards, dragons come and go: this time Vrianth's among the reinforcements, blinking into existence along with a mix of other Snowstrike dragons and a lone Boreal green, descending wingtip to wingtip with the latter until at last they land upon one of the clearer knolls and start offloading passengers. Which wouldn't take as long if they weren't all talking half the time.
"I'll give you that one, Kasadel," Oysric replies back to Kas, grinning back at him. "It's one thing to do it one day, but what about the other six?" The stablehand moves onward and stops once at Kasadel's last remark, making him laugh. "Funny guy," he mutters. And then, at Tiriana's question, Oys laughs once more. The arrival of the other dragons, Vrianth included, makes him pause, but then he's back to looking for more apples again.
"You'd better believe it, sweetheart," Kasadel tells Tiriana, unconcerned by her misunderstanding, deliberate or no. "It's been trying, actually, having to tell them all that no, my warm embrace is off limits for a while. Poor things." To Oysric, he shrugs, unconcerned, adding in, "You'll just have to take my word for it, or maybe seek me out more often." He adds a few more apples to his basket, not really terribly choosy as long as they're not /too/ bug-eaten. Or Bennin-bitten.
Tiriana, snickering too hard, can't quite work up more than an ineffectual glare at Kasadel for the term 'sweetheart.' "Oh, please. 'Warm embrace,' who /says/ stuff like that." Besides Kasadel, obviously. Tiriana settles for shaking her head and taking another bite, then finally tossing her extra apples into his basket and flexing her hand when it's finally loose of the awkward handful.
Eventually the newest batch of reinforcements shows up, mostly a scrawny lot with a tendency to shirk, but at least they're carrying some spare sacks so they can't use the excuse of baskets running short. Though most of the dragons are already departing, Vrianth's still waiting as her rider plays shepherd, the short-straw designee to get the "helpers" over to the main group to actually "help." The only time when Leova stops them is when they reach the first wave of current workers, the greenrider scanning the people and trees and more tricky trees before calling, "Oys! Millie about?"
Oysric listens to Kasadel's retort to Tiriana and rolls his eyes. "I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into, Kas," he tells the candidate. "Ever got kicked by her before?" He glances toward the goldrider in amusement before returning to his apple-picking. The stablehand's snickering, however, can clearly be heard at Tiriana's reaction to Kas. But soon his snickering comes to an abrupt halt as he hears the greenrider's voice. He thumbs to the group behind him, telling Leova: "She shouldn't be too far behind me. With the candidates."
"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," ripostes Kasadel, missing the point somewhat, but apparently not caring particularly much. "Though not until I'm no longer a candidate. Or a weyrling." He seems confident of this latter bit, not lingering over the words, just carrying on with what he's doing. "Been pushed off a cliff by her, I think I can manage," he notes to Oysric, cheerfully.
Milani looks between Kasadel and Oysrice, brows up and just shakes her head, picks up another apple, then looks along the rows of trees towards where dragons land, Vrianth among them and grins. "Here we go," she says lightly and puts that apple in Kasadel's tub. "I think hanging out and flirting are just fine, by the by, but you know, nothing that would lead to babies, because babies and baby dragons just don't /work/ together."
"I haven't kicked anybody in a while," Tiriana asserts, with a superior look down at Oysric. "A few months, at least." Beat. "Did that, though," is added after a moment, with a smirk and a falsely modest glance down and sideways at Kasadel. "How'd that work out, anyway? With that girl."
"Candidates. Check. Thanks, Oys," and Leova scans a second time, eyes narrowed against the slant of the sun. This time, her gaze runs into one of the people talking to the stablehand nearly right away, and if what's head-height on a good chunk of people is only shoulder-height on him, well, how convenient is that for spotting his candidate's knot? So she gives Kasadel's shoulder a nod without bothering to look higher, whistles at her crowd and takes a few steps forward... and past the lanky teen, lo-and-behold there's her not-much-shorter prize. Even more convenient! "Shoo," she tells her collective sack-carrying entourage. "Ask /her/ where to go." Milani gets a smile that doesn't even pretend at being sorry.
"Oh, that's good to hear," Oysric intones dryly. Though, from the sound of it, there's a hint of relief in his voice too. There's a chuckle before going on to look over his shoulder and tell the goldrider (but including a look to Kas in the comment): "With Kasadel, there's /always/ a girl involved, even if he says there isn't one." He glances toward Leova, chuckling under his breath as he watches her posse. "What's Vrianth think of all the conveyance duty, Leova?" Oys asks the greenrider curiously. Oh look. Another apple.
Kasadel fastens his smile upon Milani, nodding quickly: "No babies, and that's a promise. No intention of being a dad, anyway. Not for a few turns, yet. Worked out just fine, thank you, Tiriana," he adds in, turning towards the goldrider with a positive beam. "Though I nearly lost-- well. Something precious." Snorting at Oysric, he ducks his head back to his work. See: industrious!
Oysric says, "Oh, that's good to hear," Oysric intones dryly. Though, from the sound of it, there's a hint of relief in his voice too. There's a chuckle before going on to look over his shoulder and tell the goldrider (but including a look to Kas in the comment): "With Kasadel, there's /always/ a girl involved, even if he says there isn't one." He glances toward Leova, chuckling under his breath as he watches her posse. "What's Vrianth think of all the conveyance duty, Leova?" Oys asks the greenrider curiously. Oh look. Another apple."
Come down from the main hold, his shirtsleeves rolled up and a crate stamped "cider" held between both hands, N'thei cuts a distinctive silhouette against the ruddy afternoon light. By himself, a rare thing to see him without F'rint-the-sidekick these days, his strolling steps wind down the path in no particular hurry, approaching the collective apple-pickers with an absent survey of the industry. It's a fleshy woman from the kitchens that enjoins him first, asking with a congested chuckle, "Fine thing as the holders get us down here doin' their chores, idn'it?" Good-natured though, while she tosses another fruit into her basket.
"Faranth forbid," is Tiriana's quick response on Kasadel's potential fatherhood, with a smirk aimed at Milani and him both then for that turn of conversation. That is, until Kasadel earns her full attention again with his answer to her. Eyes narrowing, Tiriana eyes him a moment, then asks, "Something precious."
That group of reinforcements is eyed by Milani and she gestures down the aisles of trees a little ways. "That section hasn't been gone through yet," she tells them with a grin and sweeps a loose strand of hair out of her face, trying to tuck it back into her braid. "Hi Leova! Good to see you feeling better," she says warmly to the greenrider. Kasadel is then eyed sidelong and she laughs outright. "Another good plan." She sniffs the air, the scent of roasting pork getting more intense as the afternoon shades later and the prospect of dinner starts to loom on the horizon.
Leova, upon seeing the herd over to Milani with a, "Thanks," backsteps away from any mention of babies, and if it means answering the stablehand, so much the better. "Not so thrilled," she tells him. "But. Wingleader doesn't want me on sweeps until I'm all the way over this cold, for-sure-this-time, don't-I-dare-sneeze-on-him-or-else." And so she lifts a shoulder: what can you do. "What about you, like the change of pace all right? Seeing as how it's just this once, for now, anyway."
"Full of good plans, I am," Kasadel promises Milani with a grin. Although his eyebrows raise a little at Tiriana's question, he doesn't answer her - his expression is one of 'well, wouldn't you like to know', very self-satisfied. "Is it nearly time to eat? I'm /starving/."
Footsteps slow and deliberate in the sometimes-awkward footing of the tilled earth, L'vae is making his way along an aisle adjacent to the one Milani points along. The basket he holds is mostly full, but he still stops every few strides to bend and inspect an apple - usually adding it to his collection. There's a small knot of riders a ways behind him, but he seems to be roughly heading for the large bin nearest the asistant headwoman's group of candidates.
Oysric nods again at Leova, looking behind him then back to the greenrider, saying, "Didn't know you were sick. Hope you recover quickly, if you haven't already." He chuckles softly as he listens to Kas talk to Tiriana, shaking his head in amusement. Another apple's picked and then Leova's glanced at again, saying, "Pace is fine," Oys explains. "As long as I'm working and the sky's not terribly cloudy at night, I'm happy." Hiram is seen in the distance, making the stablehand sigh. "Excuse me while I go explain to my good friend Hiram how to pick apples properly," he tells Leova. "I wouldn't want him to die. Suffer maybe, but never die." Oysric chuckles softly and he's quickly jogging toward the other stablehand in the distance, sack of apples shaking over his shoulder.
Tiriana's mouth sets into a line at Kasadel's lack of answer, and she glowers at him, too. However, with nose in the air (and a bite of her half-finished apple probably spurred on by Kasadel's question), she turns away from him, toward the rest of the group. "Isn't there supposed to be a /real/ party? They promised me a party, not just--" Working, apparently, as she eyes Oysric moving off to continue that effort.
Leova gives Oysric much the same, "Thanks," as she'd given Milani, with a dour note that speaks of stories that just don't need to be told right now, and a nod after it for the pace, for the skies, and yes, for even Hiram. She looks after him, hesitates, and look: an apple at her feet, brown enough to not even be good for cider, not so brown as to likely squash against her boot toe. So she gives it an idle kick, and watches where it goes.
N'thei, for lack of anything more useful to do, stops at a tree in the middle of the row being worked by Milani and her reinforcements, one that's cultivated an apron of grass already picked clean of fallen fruit. There, nestled against the trunk, he parks the crate of cider and himself next to it, lowers his back down till he sits between two knobby roots. "This isn't a /real/ party?" he questions wryly, peering around the trunk of the tree to watch Tiriana and Kasadel with the mockery of grin; look at the good little boys-and-girls doing chores.
Having been quietly, steadily working on picking up apples and either tossing them behind him or dropping them in his basket as proven effective. Luttrell's basket is full, and nearly overflowing as he drops an apple while carrying the basket to put it with the rest of the full ones. With no more baskets, the candidate gets a sack to begin filling and heads back toward Milani. A nod is given to N'thei as he passes him.
Milani smiles at Leova again and waves as Oysric heads off, then calls another warning out to Bennin. "Oh for the love of little Faranths, Bennin, stop /half-eating/ the apples!" And her last bunch go into the bin and it looks like things are fairly well stocked by now. N'thei's approach and hail bring Millie's hands up onto her hips and she eyeballs the Weyrleader assessingly for a moment. "Looks like you brought us a party in a crate, no? And if that pig is starting to smell like dinner is any time."
Kasadel returns Tiriana's glower magnified into a beaming smile, winking at her saucily, though, like the 'good' candidate he is, he quickly gets back to work, his tub now probably as full as can be easily lifted. "Not 'til we're all partaking," he decides, glancing back up towards N'thei, though his nose wrinkles slightly at the case of cider. "But - that pig," he agrees, echoing Milani. "Smells good. And then it'll be a real party."
An answer to her question, Tiriana expects, but not in that voice that has her head twisting around sharply to find it. her mouth, of course, curves into a definite scowl. Well, when she sees N'thei; not so much when a second later, her eyes settle on the keg of cider. "Well. Maybe," she rethinks too. Her apple's remainder is tossed aside as she gives in for the afternoon, apparently.
Leova follows the apple, gives it another kick, follows it some more. And there's Luttrell and the apple, fallng: she reaches sharply out to scoop it out of the air, spin it in one hand as he moves on, check the thing for extra bruises. A surprise around here, maybe, that there's not: she catches up, reaches to set it in the basket again. His, another's: doesn't much matter.
N'thei's eyes follow Luttrell, hang from the candidate's nod for a second, the bulk of the man's smirk hidden behind the mouth of the bottle he uncorks to sample. The rest of the crate is full, yes, and he answers for it to Milani; "Brought /you/? Love, this is all for me." A dozen bottles, and he's settled down to work his way through the lot of them. "But if someone's industrious enough to bring me food, could be persuaded to make a trade." He raises questioning eyebrows, looks from Kasadel to Tiriana to Milani and back again; someone run along and feed him, go.
"For cider? Ugh. Not I!" says Kasadel, now back to ignoring Tiriana completely, and tugging thoughtfully at his tub of apples. "I think I'll just go carry this one out of here, and get /myself/ some food, thanks all the same." N'thei gets an appraising glance, then a shake of the head, and the lanky candidate heaves the tub into the air, and begins to wander away. It's a little heavy: he staggers, once, then repositions the tub, and seems to manage much better.
With 'her' tub walking off, Milani has no container to put more fruit into, but then she's been at this for a while. "Ohhh, so you want full service is that it, Weyrleader, sir?" she inquires of N'thei, good humor pulling at the corners of her mouth. Apparently, in spite of buggy apples and so on, Millie is in a good mood. Her head cocks to the side as the music shifts from the backgroundy stuff that's been playing for the half hour or so and takes on a dancing quality. "Does sound like things are picking up." Even as the picking and sorting down all aisles of trees continues and the shadows get longer as the sun drops down nearly behind the hold's cliff facade.
L'vae is turning over some squishy-rotten apples with his boot toe when he looks up to find Luttrell heading towards him. A raking glance takes in the candidate and the empty sack, a smile stretching on the brownrider's features. "Out for more, are you?" He shifts his full basket's handle between hands, lifting a thumb to point towards a tree a ways down in the next row. "There looked to be a number of good ones back that way." Focus on apples and the candidate, he seems rather oblivious to the other weyrfolk nearby.
Perhaps it's instinct, or maybe he's just used to hearing the word. But at N'thei's mention of "trade" Luttrell stops to look behind him, this in turn allows Leova to drop it in his sack. He half frowns at her. "Did I miss something?" He askes slightly confused. L'vae gets his attention though at the question. "Might as well." He smirks and nods to the rider. "Thanks." So much for a trade, this candidate will be off to gather more, in a few moments perhaps.
Tiriana will take a loss on the cider in exchange for not playing fetch under N'thei's orders. In fact, she goes so far as to announce, "Somebody else will have some," with a snide look over at N'thei, her arms crossing.
Miss something? "Depends on how you feel about cider, lad." That's N'thei answering Luttrell, even while he's watching Kasadel go carting off the apples, bemusement in his expression for a second; there are actually people, real people, that don't drink whatever's in front of them without question? At the Reaches?! "Are candidates allowed to drink, Milani? Don't remember all the rules." Then a look up to Tiriana, the mouth of his present bottle extended her way and wagged, innnviiiittting. "Maybe, but /I/ have some right now."
Intercepted before she can reach the baskets again, Leova settles for the sack Luttrell's got now after all. "Fell off the top," she says briefly, not like it's a problem, not like he's going to have to jump and make it better. Her eyes narrow at the black-haired youth: "You're the one Masoth got, aren't you, that time..." Vrianth was oblivious, like how Vrianth's /been/ oblivious every time Leova's had her near someone looking remotely eligible, even if that hasn't been so very often with the whole got-sick thing. "Liking things all right? Bit of a change of pace, this." And then he addresses someone else, and she catches sight of whom, of the brownrider just past him: the nod and the bottle-wagging go on without her as she just stands stock still for a moment. Or two, or three.
"They can have a sample, but if you get them drunk, you get to clean up the candidate barracks after the mess they'll make," is Milani's blithe-enough response. "A sip, a taste, a little bit, but no shenanigans," she continues. "And there's tons of good things to eat and drink up at the Gather. Are you /seriously/ going to have all that by yourself, N'thei?"
"I'd die of thirst before I'd get you anything," Tiriana informs N'thei with a snurling up of her nose at him. She very deliberately glances away, but eyeing the other company remaining, she doesn't look real thrilled with it, either, eyeing Kasadel's departure, then Milani, and finally N'thei again. Spiting your face, not so much fun.
Slow, perhaps, but L'vae eventually gets around to noticing that N'thei is there under that nearby tree and look, it's Leova, too. His smile subtly falters, eyes shifting between the other riders, before the brownrider comes back to address the candidate with a chuckle. "Don't let me force you - it looks like the others may be breaking for dinner anyway." His feet start moving on, leaving Luttrell to the greenrider's questions. But not before his gaze lingers on her again, a lopsided smile pulling high at one edge of his mouth as he gives a faint nod. It's Milani's words he then focuses on, the assistant headwoman and Tiriana becoming his destination even as he turns a curious look back towards the Weyrleader to see his reception of their comments.
Luttrell glances down at Leova, a warm smile going along with his nod. He might not have heard N'thei's statment, he's certainly not responded to it. "Yeah, I am. It's been fun, well, not so much the chores, but everything else. It's very different from what I'm used to. A warm place for a meal every evening, warm bathing pools, warm bed. I think they've spoiled me here." He chuckles.
N'thei, shrug; "Suit yourself." He tilts his head back and empties the bottle in a deliberately lengthy chug, wipes his finger under his lip afterward to clear the single-smudge of cider across his chin. Empty bottle to the crate, another uncorked. "Thought crossed my mind, Millie, but if you want to go fetch me a plate...?" There's more than enough bottles there to make good on his trade offer, though he keeps an eye toward Luttrell-- anyone?
The greenrider tries a smile back at the brownrider but it's no more centered than his, for all that some might think they should be used to it by now. She doesn't try to intercept him, just lets him pass. And focuses back on Luttrell as much as she can. "Hopefully not spoiled as bad as the apples, hm?" Leova teases. "And all this warm-this, warm-that. Would think we were Southern or something." Only afterward does she admit, "Meant how you liked today, so far as a change of pace from being back at the Weyr, but maybe even better to know about the rest." Her gaze does eventually, briefly slide toward the crate: /something's/ up, even if she hadn't been paying attention to what, and who's going to fall first?
"How about I help you carry that back up thattaway," Milani nods her head towards the Gather square. "And you promise me a dance, and I will get you two whole plates," she counters the Weyrleader's suggestion and tilts a look over at Tiriana, something amused slipping across her face at the goldrider's determined comments.
"Oh, right." Luttrell replies to the greenrider. "I'm used to visiting this place." He gestures to indicate the hold in general. "It's being at the weyr thats different for me. You spend enough nights on the road, and any place is a welcome change." He explains and follows her gaze toward N'thei's crate, thus remembering something about a trade. Frowning slightly as Milani seems to have made the weyrleader a pretty good offer, Luttrell gives a shrug and looks toward the gather grounds and then back to Leova. "I wonder if we'll be finished soon, looks like things are picking up. Should be fun."
And Sunniva's been here the whole time, though she's since relinquished her basket of apples and is engaged in unobtrusive conversation with another candidate. At N'thei's request for a plate from Milani -- and subsequent denial of such -- she interjects as politely as possible with, "I can get you a plate if you would like, sir." And yet, there's a slight wince, as if offering to do so without being directly asked might be worthy of some kind of backlash.
N'thei puts his bottle-free hand protectively around the edge of the crate, lays his arm across the top of it to further drive home the point that he's defending it. From Milani. Because she's such a threat. "How about you just go get-- never mind." Sunniva, set to cringe, earns the brightness of a sudden smile, one that he briefly ensures incorporates the assistant headwoman as well. "I would like, miss. Thank you."
The shrug, the switching out of the quickly emptied bottle, has L'vae's gaze falling away from the Weyrleader with a smirked grin and a little shake of his head. He's managed to make his way up to Milani, so now the line of his lips curves more genuinely as he comes to a stop and lets his filled basket rest against his knees. "Hi Millie," the brownrider notes quietly before turning a glance out again to take in the most recent development to the food-delivery issue: Sunniva. His eyebrows go up, weight shifting towards the assistant headwoman. Not that his voice is pitched low enough to be truly conspiratorial. "Looks like you missed out on your dance," he says with playful sympathy.
One down. No, two. Or three, depending on the count. "Refreshing outlook," Leova meanwhile comments to Luttrell, and quite sincerely at that. "Depending on how many nights it takes to make the difference, of course! Now, aren't you glad you didn't offer the man a dance? Although... did you see /that/." An actual smile. From N'thei! Leova marvels silently and none too subtly before suggesting, "Might as well check with Milani, see about heading up for dinner, and whatever's after."
At once, Tiriana glances Sunniva's way, eyeing the candidate up and down as if just now seeing her for the first time; she declares quickly, "Suck-up brown-noser. Go scurry around for him, that's it." And she, firmly superior with her principles, does not move from her stand on the grass, though she does make a little hand-waving motion for Sunniva to go do just that.
Milani just shrugs at N'thei's refusal, but shoots Sunniva a worried glance. "Don't let him push you around," she advises the holder girl, then gives L'vae's basket a little bump with her hip. "Good haul," she says approvingly and then sets fingers to lips and whistles sharply. Down a ways several candidates look up. "Dinner if you want it!" she calls out loudly, then cocks her head L'vae's way winningly. "Want to go for a spin, Lou?"
The smile that's spared for Milani -- as Tiriana's words are simply not heard -- is a warm one, even if it is wordless, and speaks volumes in and of itself. She's accustomed to this; raised for obeying the beck and call of others. Ever the obedient one -- and oblivious to any other looks her way, if her expression is any indication -- Sunniva merely inclines her head to N'thei and then proceeds onward with in a flurry of skirts and a muted, "Of course, sir."
Luttrell glances toward Milani as she whistles. "Ah, good timing." He notes closing his sack into one hand. "Care to join me for a bite to eat?" He offers to Leova, ready to offload his sack and head toward the gather grounds. "Unless you have other plans." His glances toward the group not eyeing anyone in paticular.
Delighted; "Don't think she heard you, love. Why don't you go chase her down and tell her how wrong it is that she's doing what she's told, neh?" L'vae, swooping in to collect Milani, merits a chuckle while N'thei stays comfortably ensconced beneath his tree, with a drink, with a girl off fetching him a meal, all's right with the world.
A worried frown is turned Sunniva's way, but the assistant headwoman proves an effective distraction. "Thanks - think I might leave my other job," L'vae notes playfully as dimples show around his smile. The whistle has the brownrider leaning back, flicking a quick glance out to those candidates. But mostly, he's focused on Milani. "With you? Always." He shifts the basket into the grip of one hand so he can offer her an elbow. "Do I get two plates of dinner, too?" Smiling eyes slide over briefly to N'thei.
"Scurry!" Tiriana, having stumbled on a fancy word, resorts to shouting it after Sunniva, and in so doing plays right into N'thei's hands. She sends him an ugly look, like it's his fault, which really it is. "If she's stupid enough to do it, let her," she declares with a twist of her mouth. "People like that deserve what they get." And she nods a sharp little nod.
Whistle! "And... that answers that. Don't mind if I do," Leova returns amiably, "At least, for the walk over." And she starts walking, well after Sunniva: no signs of wanting to take custody of Luttrell's apple-sack, though, not with her hands laced behind her back. "Have particular friends yet? Among the other candidates, anyway, knew you know Oys already."
Milani slips her hand through L'vae's elbow as it's offered and she smiles over at him warmly. She turns though, distracted for a moment to give some instructions about where to bring all the apple bounty for carting away by Reaches riders. N'thei earns himself a sweeter-than-sweet smile next. "You be nice to her, N'thei," is what Millie says in answer to the Weyrleader, "and no getting her drunk either."
Luttrell back tracks to drop off his sack, then joins Leova, considering that question for several long moments as he glances toward Sunniva. Does he dare to consider her a friend, would she take offence at that? Would she be offended if he didn't?. He gives a shrug. "A few maybe, I've met quite a few people, several on more then one occasion, and then staying with the other candidates, but I don't know if that would qualify them as 'friend' just yet." He offers finally.
Scurry? Sunniva doesn't scurry, though she does /hurry/ -- which only differs from the former by virtue of impeccable posture and trained grace -- and which ensures that she'll pass Leova and Luttrell (both worthy of a quick nod and smile) on her way back. The trek back is a bit more carefully managed, as she's balancing a plate of various foodstuffs -- things she wouldn't dare to eat herself -- on a hand and with a small skin of something or another being clutched in the other. If she'd heard Tiriana's shout, she makes no indication of such, to the point of simply not looking at the other woman. Out of sight, out of mind and all that.
N'thei answers Milani's warnings with a blithe smile beneath his bottle; so innocent, then brushes his fingers through the air in a run-along motion to Milani and L'vae. "What, exactly, do you think she's going to 'get,' love? Gratitude? A free drink? Not getting kicked out of a Weyr?" He shakes his head doubtfully at the goldrider, tracking Sunniva's progress happily. "Really ought to be more like her, if you ask me." --Yes yes, no one did.
Leova sees Luttrell watching the rapidly disappearing girl, promptly asks, "What's the story behind her?" Sunniva. In her skirt. The shortly-thereafter reappearing girl, she of the nods-and-smiles, the greenrider returning a brief nod in reply. "And... call it friendship in the loose sense of the word, anyway. Doesn't have to be sworn blood brothers or anything, dare say Milani wouldn't care for the stains."
"Be that boring?" Tiriana scoffs at N'thei's words, still looking thoroughly disgruntled at this point. "A doormat? You really think that would be better." She doesn't believe it, rolls her eyes in fact as she watches, scowling still, as Sunniva bustles about on his bidding.
L'vae does a rather decent job at playing arm candy for Milani, waiting patiently by her side as she directs her charges. He does make use of the time, actually, to hand off his basket to a rather sour-faced young woman who was plucked from Balan. Once freed, his hand brushes absently against his trouser leg. That is, until he notices N'thei's gesture. Run along? His own fingers lift, waggling vertically. Toodles. "We can come back, check on them," he offers in a soft voice to Milani. "But I bet you could use a break - how long have you been out here?"
"Very loose." Luttrell replies another glance toward Sunniva. He gives a shrug then. "Not sure myself. She act's like a holders daughter, yet says shes from Fort weyr. She told me she was hold-bred first before she was at the weyr, which explains something, I guess, but..." He gives a helpless gesture as he doesn't really know what to say. A moment later he smirks. "You know, your like the fifth person to ask me that, and I barely know her."
Tiriana earns a slight purse of Milani's lips, but apparently the assistant headwoman isn't all that worried about Sunniva's treatment at N'thei's hands because she waits a moment or two to let candidates get ahead of her, then walks along with L'vae, nodding at his question. "Truth be told, you're right, I've been here most of the day and I'm /famished/," Millie confesses, sotto voce to the brownrider. N'thei's 'run along' only earns a roll of Milani's eyes. "Don't overeat, N'thei," she tells him sunnily over her shoulder and nods again at L'vae, tone low again. "Yes, thank you, Lou. I'll need to swing around to make sure no one's lingering anyway."
Leova says mildly, "Was born in a Hold myself, before I came here, Luttrell. It happens." Here in the loose sense of yet another word, her implication High Reaches this time. "And she's dressed that way... what's her name? And see, when you go really looking at someone, that's when you get questions asked about her. It happens." She reaches up a few times as they walk, plucking the odd leaf off the tree, and once looks back: the pair behind them, the scowling girl beyond that.
"There's something to be said for a girl that can follow orders." N'thei made no effort to hide the fact that his line-of-thought had strayed well wide of fetching dinner, the trick at the corner of his mouth only chased away when he refocused his attention on Tiriana. He says something afterward, his forehead lowered to indicate L'vae-and-Milani, but it's impossible to overhear beyond the confines of his tree.
N'thei whispers "I like that, the whore and the homo. Neither of them's going home happy tonight, neh?"
"I do hope it is sufficient," Sunniva states with some fretful chewing at her lip as she offers the plate -- still balanced on her fingertips -- to N'thei -- timed to coincide with the end of his conversation with Tiriana. A simple arrangement of foods on the plate, though likely drawn from recollections of her brother's eating habits; a masculine assortment of meat and such, in other words. The skin is still clutched in other other hand, explained away with a simple, "Water." And not for him, as he has plenty to drink, though she'd be quick to relinquish even that, if asked.
"We will get you something," L'vae promises to Milani being famished, reaching across to give her hand on his arm a pat. The line of his brow is sympathetic. As they've begun to walk, his eye has picked out Luttrell amongst the candidates before them. Maybe it's due to the teen's height, instead of the greenrider beside him. In any case, when Millie's glance turns back, the brownrider's follows to the group by the tree. It lingers, indecisive. But something - Manners? Masochism? - makes him lift his voice to call back before they've gone too far. "I wonder, weyrwoman, if you would like to join us to get something for dinner?"
Tiriana, dirty-minded little thing, is quick to follow N'thei's train of thought, eyes cutting sideways at him from Sunniva. "The kind that just lays there," she concludes herself, though her brow furrows up as she can't help but lean in a little bit to catch his lowered words, her mouth twisting into a smirk despite herself as she looks after L'vae and Milani herself. She snickers. "Still time, though, right? Not like they need a whole lot of it to work."
Luttrell goes on the defensive just a little. "Hey, I wasn't really looking at her, I was just thinking. But then, I don't have to, it seems like any time I say hi to her, everyone assumes I know her. It's about the same as my knowing you." He gestures to the greenrider. "I know Vrianth is your dragon, and I know your name is Leova, but I don't /really/ know anything else about you. Now if I was to look at you like this." He takes a step away from her and considers her thoughtfully for a moment, then is back next to her again as he continues. "People automatically assume I /know/ you." He sighs.
"Thanks, Lou," Milani says with true gratitude as they walk though L'vae's subsequent invitation to Tiriana makes her eyes close briefly. "You're too nice," she tells him confidentially. "But I'll put on my best manners if she decides to come along," the assistant headwoman says with brave stoicism. "After all, you will be taking me dancing," she says in a pleased manner.
Masculine assortment of meat... N'thei takes the plate with a glance at it, not picky enough for is-sufficient to come into play. "Sit," is his next direction to Sunniva, palm waved vaguely toward a spot of unoccupied grass before he puts the bottle between his legs and hovers over the plate. "Tiriana and I-- do you know Tiriana?-- were discussing..." He looks up to the goldrider, searching for a term, tucking a bite into his cheek so the smirk is harder to see straight out. "We were discussing incompatibility, square pegs and, ahem, round holes. How do you like the Reaches?" Like one thought is connected to the next.
"Oh. Certainly." Directive given, it is promptly obeyed, with Sunniva opting to kneel and summarily smoothing her skirts down with a hand. A shake of her head at the first question, a sidelong look finally being given to the goldrider, and then her attention fixes -- with a distinctly puzzled expression -- onto N'thei again. Square pegs? Round holes? It all seems to go right over her head. So, she answers the question she can and that's with a matter-of-fact, "I suppose I like it well enough, sir, but I do rather miss Fort."
As Luttrell goes on, as L'vae invites, the third L looks back to where she's walking after all: just a glance at the candidate now and again, and once a rueful nod. "Maybe it's just that your knowing anything is more than they know, hm? And. You may have heard my name in connection with the scavenger hunt, by way of a broad hint. So that's something else." A few steps later, a distinctly more sidelong look, "Vrianth appreciates your remembering her name. By the way. And suggests that you look at /everyone/ that way."
That L'vae's comment is directed at her registers only belatedly on Tiriana, who's more interested in not-so-subtle double entendres with N'thei. Still, after a moment to stop snickering after the pair, she shakes her head and calls back, "No, thanks!" So polite, except for the sarcastic tone and lingering smirk. But she does wave them off, and reach to snag an apple from a passing basket--she is bereft of cider, after all. Then she sits, too, much less gracefully than Sunniva. No comments on incompatibility as N'thei terms it; she settles for a singularly bitter, "Fort."
"Tiriana doesn't share your fondness for Fort, obviously. Her-- well, suppose you can't really call him her weyrmate now that they don't even live in the same timezone?" N'thei looks between the two girls for clarification on the terminology, eating all the while. "Come to think of it," forces a swallow, washes it down. "Your sister's the Weyrwoman, her whatever-he-is is the Weyrleader, so they... Mmn. Small world, isn't it." Even he must know when he's toeing the line; the current bottle, held by the neck, gets offered toward the goldrider though he continues looking conversationally at Sunniva.
Gaze dragging back to Milani, the brownrider's grin warps a touch sheepishly. "Sorry," he breathes quietly back. "And there will certainly be dancing," followed by a little squeeze from his hand before it falls away. It's then that Tiriana's response comes. L'vae turns a pleasantly bright smile over his shoulder at the goldrider and gives a little nod of acceptance, apparently unfazed by the sarcasm. This leaves him to continue on at an easier amble at the redhead's side. "There, nothing to be endured," he notes with quiet cheer. Moving on. "How have you been, Millie? I haven't caught up with you in awhile."
"I suppose." Luttrell replies with a nod of his own. "Speaking of which, I had been meaning to ask you about a..." He is thoughtful again for a few moments then he smiles. "Ah I remember, a river rock wasn't it?" At the mention of Vrianth's comment, the candidate grins flushing a little. "I shall have to remember that. Course, looking at everyone like that might get me attention I don't want." He gestures with a mock slap to his face ending as a grin. "This is a longer walk then I thought it would be." He notes as they finally reach the gather grounds and serving tables. He gestures again, but this is fir her to precede him in line for food.
"Oh, that sounds awful," is remarked with genuine apology and a twist of sympathy for Tiriana, her mouth pulling just a little to one side and eyes flicking askance to her again before dropping. Sunniva sets her skin of water aside and folds her hands in her lap, lapsing into polite silence as she seems to have little to say on the matter. There's a nod, of course, acknowledging the words, but nothing more.
"Fort is too the same timezone!" Tiriana protests the only thing she can protest with admirable heat. Following swiftly is a lower, "He's the Weyrleader. That's it. He /is/ my weyrmate." She takes the bottle more automatically than anything else, eyes N'thei like she's really struggling not to smash the bottle over the back of his head when he looks away.
Unusually agreeable, uncharacteristically sympathetic, N'thei echoes, "It does sound awful." But his smile is too happy, his eyes overly bright while they watch the poor poor goldrider. "Drink, darling. Increases the chances I'll survive the night. --Do you drink, Sunniva?" It's a Very Important Matter.
Leova may not speak to whether Luttrell's objection might have been something Vrianth intended, but that smile of hers may grant more than just its validity... if it's not just a smothered laugh at his slap-acting to begin with. Instead, "Rock, right. And no, don't have one on me, so you'll have to look me up later, hm? And any of your fellow candidates, too, unless you're concerned about their beating you to it...." Food! She starts filling her own plate, but mentions before moving on their separate ways, "A walk, but hopefully the meal will be worth it. Good seeing you again." Off she goes. Doesn't look back. There's a harper's ear to bend.
Luttrell gives a nod. "Alright, I'll try to catch you tomorrow then, hopefully I'll remember it." He smiles and gives her a wave as they go their seperate ways. With a full plate, he takes a seat at a near empty table and start munching away, occasionally glancing the way of the dancers on the dance floor.
The topic of her sister and the status of Tiriana's weyrmate is one that she is easily able to gloss over by not commenting. N'thei's echoing of her words elicits another nod; agreeing. Hands splay in her lap, then fold together with a different lacing of fingers, and her head lifts again to focus on the man as he speaks. Sunniva answers the last with a careful, "Not often, sir." It's not a 'no'.
Tiriana shakes her head. "Not really," she differs, voice still flat. "Makes me more--" Whatever; she doesn't finish, just waves a hand to fill in the blank while she does take a drink. And offer a mocking little echo of Sunniva, "Not often," as she works into a sulk that at least reduces her glaring at N'thei's head. Instead, she glances after L'vae and Milani with apparent second thoughts, though the pair are fast disappearing toward their own destination.
"Not often." N'thei, like Tiriana, repeats the words, his own echo from the context of a brow creeping doubtfully upward, with his bowl set aside and his hand protectively slack across the cask of cider again. "And how are you fitting in again?" No, never mind. With that hand to brace him, he pushes to his feet, back slid along the tree trunk in reverse this time. "Much as I'd like to know what it makes-you-more..."
Confused by the question, all Sunniva can do is lift a shoulder helplessly and hope that it's enough. Though N'thei's getting up, she makes no such move to stand and likely won't until she's bid to do so or N'thei leaves; either or. Instead, "No, not often. It does not-" her mouth contorts a little with an indecipherable something, "-suit me, I suppose. The effect is not desireable."
"Don't leave me alone with her. Tiriana's glowering at N'thei for being mean to her turns into glowering at him for abandoning her; fickle woman. She shoves up to her own feet quickly, bottle coming with her--clutched to her, actually. The look she shoots down at the still-seated Sunniva is equal parts disdain, disgust, and outright horror as she mumbles, "Not desireable my ass."
"Dancing fixes pretty much everything," Milani states confidently to L'vae as they move along out of earshot of Weyrleader and goldrider and candidate. "And that's a relief, honestly. I can put up with her most days, but not her and N'thei in combination. ANd I /really/ hope that Sunniva will be okay." Then it's face forward as they catch up to some outlying Candidates and cross out from under trees into meadow and to the Gather area itself. "Oh you know, busy with tithes and Candidates and stuff, but otherwise pretty good really. You?"
"You don't exactly make it--" N'thei drops a look to Sunniva, a borrowed term. "Desirable to stay, baby." He hefts the crate up with both hands, a toe to nudge the plate he has every intention of leaving behind. For Sunniva to deal with. See what happens when you give a man an inch? "Enjoy the party, miss."
Any uncertainty that surfaces is quickly quelled beneath a well-constructed mask of polite neutrality. "I shall, thank you. Do take care," the latter being directed evenly and earnestly toward both of them. Sunniva dips her head and merely waits, a long-fingered hand reaching to take the plate and draw it near. She'll take care of it.
Polite goodbyes are not Tiriana's forte. She settles for a brusque nod Sunniva's way, and then heading off rapidly in whatever direction N'thei isn't aimed for.
When: Day 11, Month 11, Turn 17
Where: Orchards, Nabol Hold
What: The Reachians help harvest apples.
Notes: I couldn't decide on a title. :(
Orchards, Nabol Hold
Situated near the main Hold, down a gentle slope in an insulated valley lies Nabol's vast fruit orchards. Apple trees dominate the landscape, though sections, delineated by sturdy wooden fences, are portioned out for plums, peaches, cherries, and pears. Dark, fertilized earth is well tended and cared for beneath the trees, while the free space of grassy knolls roll downward into the orchards. In the distance is an apple refinery, where overripe fruits are sent to be pressed into ciders, both hard and not.
The apple harvest is in full swing, large baskets placed at intervals along the fences and throughout the acres of apple trees. Carts line the entrance to the apple orchards, some meant to travel up to the refinery, while others return to the main hold. The colors in the orchard are changing from green to the warmth of autumnal reds, oranges, and gold.
Contents:
Oysric
Sunniva
Luttrell
Kasadel
Milani
Obvious exits:
Nabol Hold
"Well there's been the homesick crying from some," Milani points out, "and some confusion over things, but no pranks or bad falls, a few little bumps and scrapes, otherwise, smooth sailing," she elaborates and ducks her head a little at Sunniva's exclamations, masking the likely fit of giggles. When she looks up again it's to say: "I agree about the washing. Better to wait until most of these have gone through the sinks. So many /bugs/."
"Oh, but that one-" Sunniva makes a face when Luttrell picks up an apple she'd discarded of, voicing the rest of the thought in a sigh. She starts to move, then stops again upon hearing the question; she half-turns to seek out the source. "It does not make you a bad person, no," Sunniva calls back to Oysric, forehead creasing just a little. Puzzled. That puzzlement fades a little when Milani speaks and she nods, fervently. "/Exactly/. They are just so- so /filthy/."
Kasadel straightens his back, giving Oysric a long look as though he's inclined to be offended - and then he breaks into a grin. "I'm a reformed man, Oysric. All work, no girls, very well behaved. Really boring. Thanks, though." He sounds - not proud, just satisfied, as though this whole thing was always in the plan. ""m not afraid of any dirt," he adds, to the group at large, shrugging. "Natural, really. All of it. Just dirt."
Filthy, what? Doesn't bother Tiriana, who's juggling two apples into one hand so she can use the free hand to take the one she has in her teeth then. With a bite out of it, she wanders the crops, not so much working just now; the sweat she's worked up, though, testifies to recent exertion as she now cuts across the orchards at a lazy pace that eventually nears Milani and company. "Bugs?" says the goldrider, although it's distorted around the mouthful of apple. Now she eyes the ones she's collected with a frown like that didn't occur to her earlier.
Oysric almost looks ready to pick up an apple and start eating it right in front of Sunniva. But he instead nudges a rather damaged apple out of the way and continues on. Toward Milani, Oysric merely nods to her again. "Homesickness, I can understand," he replies. The stablehand can only chuckle aloud at Kasadel's reaction, nodding once before grinning back at him, replying: "I'll believe it when I see it, Kasadel." He continues eating that one apple in his left. No washing for him either. He glances toward Tiriana with a smirk before replying, "I heard once that if you eat a bug, it would fester inside your body and grow -really- long." Now he really does take a bite in front of someone, it's a rather satisfying sound of the stablehand taking the last bite into the apple he's had with him.
"All work, no girls," Milani asks Kasadel with a bright laugh. " That /does/ sound boring," she notes to the candidate with a wink then looks up at Tiriana's arrival. "You know, eating the stuff," and she holds up an example, worms this time, crawling in a greenish apple and she doesn't even bother to flick them off, just tosses the fruit off towards the pile where she's been putting other cast-offs. Oysric earns an eye-roll. "Oh please, everyone knows that's not true."
"No kidding," Kasadel tells Milani mournfully, his head shaking for emphasis. "Working right now, Oysric," he points out to the Stablehand, and indeed, he is still working on filling his basket. "And no girls on my lap, or doing naughty things with me - not even eyeing any up!" Aside from Tiriana, whose approach draws his glance, but, really, only for a few moments, and with mostly disinterest. "Did your Mummy tell you that, to make you stop eating insects?" he adds to Oysric, expression wicked.
"Lies," Tiriana agrees, and this seems to make up her mind for her as she very deliberately takes another bite of her apple. The other couple, she gives another look for a minute before she gives up looking for a pocket to stuff them in and just holds onto them. They do not make it onto the pile for the Weyr's reserves just now. "Were there ever any of them eyeing you up?" she then misunderstands Kasadel, arguably on purpose, as she glances at Oysric and Milani as if to ask if they've ever seen proof of as much.
High above the orchards, dragons come and go: this time Vrianth's among the reinforcements, blinking into existence along with a mix of other Snowstrike dragons and a lone Boreal green, descending wingtip to wingtip with the latter until at last they land upon one of the clearer knolls and start offloading passengers. Which wouldn't take as long if they weren't all talking half the time.
"I'll give you that one, Kasadel," Oysric replies back to Kas, grinning back at him. "It's one thing to do it one day, but what about the other six?" The stablehand moves onward and stops once at Kasadel's last remark, making him laugh. "Funny guy," he mutters. And then, at Tiriana's question, Oys laughs once more. The arrival of the other dragons, Vrianth included, makes him pause, but then he's back to looking for more apples again.
"You'd better believe it, sweetheart," Kasadel tells Tiriana, unconcerned by her misunderstanding, deliberate or no. "It's been trying, actually, having to tell them all that no, my warm embrace is off limits for a while. Poor things." To Oysric, he shrugs, unconcerned, adding in, "You'll just have to take my word for it, or maybe seek me out more often." He adds a few more apples to his basket, not really terribly choosy as long as they're not /too/ bug-eaten. Or Bennin-bitten.
Tiriana, snickering too hard, can't quite work up more than an ineffectual glare at Kasadel for the term 'sweetheart.' "Oh, please. 'Warm embrace,' who /says/ stuff like that." Besides Kasadel, obviously. Tiriana settles for shaking her head and taking another bite, then finally tossing her extra apples into his basket and flexing her hand when it's finally loose of the awkward handful.
Eventually the newest batch of reinforcements shows up, mostly a scrawny lot with a tendency to shirk, but at least they're carrying some spare sacks so they can't use the excuse of baskets running short. Though most of the dragons are already departing, Vrianth's still waiting as her rider plays shepherd, the short-straw designee to get the "helpers" over to the main group to actually "help." The only time when Leova stops them is when they reach the first wave of current workers, the greenrider scanning the people and trees and more tricky trees before calling, "Oys! Millie about?"
Oysric listens to Kasadel's retort to Tiriana and rolls his eyes. "I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into, Kas," he tells the candidate. "Ever got kicked by her before?" He glances toward the goldrider in amusement before returning to his apple-picking. The stablehand's snickering, however, can clearly be heard at Tiriana's reaction to Kas. But soon his snickering comes to an abrupt halt as he hears the greenrider's voice. He thumbs to the group behind him, telling Leova: "She shouldn't be too far behind me. With the candidates."
"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," ripostes Kasadel, missing the point somewhat, but apparently not caring particularly much. "Though not until I'm no longer a candidate. Or a weyrling." He seems confident of this latter bit, not lingering over the words, just carrying on with what he's doing. "Been pushed off a cliff by her, I think I can manage," he notes to Oysric, cheerfully.
Milani looks between Kasadel and Oysrice, brows up and just shakes her head, picks up another apple, then looks along the rows of trees towards where dragons land, Vrianth among them and grins. "Here we go," she says lightly and puts that apple in Kasadel's tub. "I think hanging out and flirting are just fine, by the by, but you know, nothing that would lead to babies, because babies and baby dragons just don't /work/ together."
"I haven't kicked anybody in a while," Tiriana asserts, with a superior look down at Oysric. "A few months, at least." Beat. "Did that, though," is added after a moment, with a smirk and a falsely modest glance down and sideways at Kasadel. "How'd that work out, anyway? With that girl."
"Candidates. Check. Thanks, Oys," and Leova scans a second time, eyes narrowed against the slant of the sun. This time, her gaze runs into one of the people talking to the stablehand nearly right away, and if what's head-height on a good chunk of people is only shoulder-height on him, well, how convenient is that for spotting his candidate's knot? So she gives Kasadel's shoulder a nod without bothering to look higher, whistles at her crowd and takes a few steps forward... and past the lanky teen, lo-and-behold there's her not-much-shorter prize. Even more convenient! "Shoo," she tells her collective sack-carrying entourage. "Ask /her/ where to go." Milani gets a smile that doesn't even pretend at being sorry.
"Oh, that's good to hear," Oysric intones dryly. Though, from the sound of it, there's a hint of relief in his voice too. There's a chuckle before going on to look over his shoulder and tell the goldrider (but including a look to Kas in the comment): "With Kasadel, there's /always/ a girl involved, even if he says there isn't one." He glances toward Leova, chuckling under his breath as he watches her posse. "What's Vrianth think of all the conveyance duty, Leova?" Oys asks the greenrider curiously. Oh look. Another apple.
Kasadel fastens his smile upon Milani, nodding quickly: "No babies, and that's a promise. No intention of being a dad, anyway. Not for a few turns, yet. Worked out just fine, thank you, Tiriana," he adds in, turning towards the goldrider with a positive beam. "Though I nearly lost-- well. Something precious." Snorting at Oysric, he ducks his head back to his work. See: industrious!
Oysric says, "Oh, that's good to hear," Oysric intones dryly. Though, from the sound of it, there's a hint of relief in his voice too. There's a chuckle before going on to look over his shoulder and tell the goldrider (but including a look to Kas in the comment): "With Kasadel, there's /always/ a girl involved, even if he says there isn't one." He glances toward Leova, chuckling under his breath as he watches her posse. "What's Vrianth think of all the conveyance duty, Leova?" Oys asks the greenrider curiously. Oh look. Another apple."
Come down from the main hold, his shirtsleeves rolled up and a crate stamped "cider" held between both hands, N'thei cuts a distinctive silhouette against the ruddy afternoon light. By himself, a rare thing to see him without F'rint-the-sidekick these days, his strolling steps wind down the path in no particular hurry, approaching the collective apple-pickers with an absent survey of the industry. It's a fleshy woman from the kitchens that enjoins him first, asking with a congested chuckle, "Fine thing as the holders get us down here doin' their chores, idn'it?" Good-natured though, while she tosses another fruit into her basket.
"Faranth forbid," is Tiriana's quick response on Kasadel's potential fatherhood, with a smirk aimed at Milani and him both then for that turn of conversation. That is, until Kasadel earns her full attention again with his answer to her. Eyes narrowing, Tiriana eyes him a moment, then asks, "Something precious."
That group of reinforcements is eyed by Milani and she gestures down the aisles of trees a little ways. "That section hasn't been gone through yet," she tells them with a grin and sweeps a loose strand of hair out of her face, trying to tuck it back into her braid. "Hi Leova! Good to see you feeling better," she says warmly to the greenrider. Kasadel is then eyed sidelong and she laughs outright. "Another good plan." She sniffs the air, the scent of roasting pork getting more intense as the afternoon shades later and the prospect of dinner starts to loom on the horizon.
Leova, upon seeing the herd over to Milani with a, "Thanks," backsteps away from any mention of babies, and if it means answering the stablehand, so much the better. "Not so thrilled," she tells him. "But. Wingleader doesn't want me on sweeps until I'm all the way over this cold, for-sure-this-time, don't-I-dare-sneeze-on-him-or-else." And so she lifts a shoulder: what can you do. "What about you, like the change of pace all right? Seeing as how it's just this once, for now, anyway."
"Full of good plans, I am," Kasadel promises Milani with a grin. Although his eyebrows raise a little at Tiriana's question, he doesn't answer her - his expression is one of 'well, wouldn't you like to know', very self-satisfied. "Is it nearly time to eat? I'm /starving/."
Footsteps slow and deliberate in the sometimes-awkward footing of the tilled earth, L'vae is making his way along an aisle adjacent to the one Milani points along. The basket he holds is mostly full, but he still stops every few strides to bend and inspect an apple - usually adding it to his collection. There's a small knot of riders a ways behind him, but he seems to be roughly heading for the large bin nearest the asistant headwoman's group of candidates.
Oysric nods again at Leova, looking behind him then back to the greenrider, saying, "Didn't know you were sick. Hope you recover quickly, if you haven't already." He chuckles softly as he listens to Kas talk to Tiriana, shaking his head in amusement. Another apple's picked and then Leova's glanced at again, saying, "Pace is fine," Oys explains. "As long as I'm working and the sky's not terribly cloudy at night, I'm happy." Hiram is seen in the distance, making the stablehand sigh. "Excuse me while I go explain to my good friend Hiram how to pick apples properly," he tells Leova. "I wouldn't want him to die. Suffer maybe, but never die." Oysric chuckles softly and he's quickly jogging toward the other stablehand in the distance, sack of apples shaking over his shoulder.
Tiriana's mouth sets into a line at Kasadel's lack of answer, and she glowers at him, too. However, with nose in the air (and a bite of her half-finished apple probably spurred on by Kasadel's question), she turns away from him, toward the rest of the group. "Isn't there supposed to be a /real/ party? They promised me a party, not just--" Working, apparently, as she eyes Oysric moving off to continue that effort.
Leova gives Oysric much the same, "Thanks," as she'd given Milani, with a dour note that speaks of stories that just don't need to be told right now, and a nod after it for the pace, for the skies, and yes, for even Hiram. She looks after him, hesitates, and look: an apple at her feet, brown enough to not even be good for cider, not so brown as to likely squash against her boot toe. So she gives it an idle kick, and watches where it goes.
N'thei, for lack of anything more useful to do, stops at a tree in the middle of the row being worked by Milani and her reinforcements, one that's cultivated an apron of grass already picked clean of fallen fruit. There, nestled against the trunk, he parks the crate of cider and himself next to it, lowers his back down till he sits between two knobby roots. "This isn't a /real/ party?" he questions wryly, peering around the trunk of the tree to watch Tiriana and Kasadel with the mockery of grin; look at the good little boys-and-girls doing chores.
Having been quietly, steadily working on picking up apples and either tossing them behind him or dropping them in his basket as proven effective. Luttrell's basket is full, and nearly overflowing as he drops an apple while carrying the basket to put it with the rest of the full ones. With no more baskets, the candidate gets a sack to begin filling and heads back toward Milani. A nod is given to N'thei as he passes him.
Milani smiles at Leova again and waves as Oysric heads off, then calls another warning out to Bennin. "Oh for the love of little Faranths, Bennin, stop /half-eating/ the apples!" And her last bunch go into the bin and it looks like things are fairly well stocked by now. N'thei's approach and hail bring Millie's hands up onto her hips and she eyeballs the Weyrleader assessingly for a moment. "Looks like you brought us a party in a crate, no? And if that pig is starting to smell like dinner is any time."
Kasadel returns Tiriana's glower magnified into a beaming smile, winking at her saucily, though, like the 'good' candidate he is, he quickly gets back to work, his tub now probably as full as can be easily lifted. "Not 'til we're all partaking," he decides, glancing back up towards N'thei, though his nose wrinkles slightly at the case of cider. "But - that pig," he agrees, echoing Milani. "Smells good. And then it'll be a real party."
An answer to her question, Tiriana expects, but not in that voice that has her head twisting around sharply to find it. her mouth, of course, curves into a definite scowl. Well, when she sees N'thei; not so much when a second later, her eyes settle on the keg of cider. "Well. Maybe," she rethinks too. Her apple's remainder is tossed aside as she gives in for the afternoon, apparently.
Leova follows the apple, gives it another kick, follows it some more. And there's Luttrell and the apple, fallng: she reaches sharply out to scoop it out of the air, spin it in one hand as he moves on, check the thing for extra bruises. A surprise around here, maybe, that there's not: she catches up, reaches to set it in the basket again. His, another's: doesn't much matter.
N'thei's eyes follow Luttrell, hang from the candidate's nod for a second, the bulk of the man's smirk hidden behind the mouth of the bottle he uncorks to sample. The rest of the crate is full, yes, and he answers for it to Milani; "Brought /you/? Love, this is all for me." A dozen bottles, and he's settled down to work his way through the lot of them. "But if someone's industrious enough to bring me food, could be persuaded to make a trade." He raises questioning eyebrows, looks from Kasadel to Tiriana to Milani and back again; someone run along and feed him, go.
"For cider? Ugh. Not I!" says Kasadel, now back to ignoring Tiriana completely, and tugging thoughtfully at his tub of apples. "I think I'll just go carry this one out of here, and get /myself/ some food, thanks all the same." N'thei gets an appraising glance, then a shake of the head, and the lanky candidate heaves the tub into the air, and begins to wander away. It's a little heavy: he staggers, once, then repositions the tub, and seems to manage much better.
With 'her' tub walking off, Milani has no container to put more fruit into, but then she's been at this for a while. "Ohhh, so you want full service is that it, Weyrleader, sir?" she inquires of N'thei, good humor pulling at the corners of her mouth. Apparently, in spite of buggy apples and so on, Millie is in a good mood. Her head cocks to the side as the music shifts from the backgroundy stuff that's been playing for the half hour or so and takes on a dancing quality. "Does sound like things are picking up." Even as the picking and sorting down all aisles of trees continues and the shadows get longer as the sun drops down nearly behind the hold's cliff facade.
L'vae is turning over some squishy-rotten apples with his boot toe when he looks up to find Luttrell heading towards him. A raking glance takes in the candidate and the empty sack, a smile stretching on the brownrider's features. "Out for more, are you?" He shifts his full basket's handle between hands, lifting a thumb to point towards a tree a ways down in the next row. "There looked to be a number of good ones back that way." Focus on apples and the candidate, he seems rather oblivious to the other weyrfolk nearby.
Perhaps it's instinct, or maybe he's just used to hearing the word. But at N'thei's mention of "trade" Luttrell stops to look behind him, this in turn allows Leova to drop it in his sack. He half frowns at her. "Did I miss something?" He askes slightly confused. L'vae gets his attention though at the question. "Might as well." He smirks and nods to the rider. "Thanks." So much for a trade, this candidate will be off to gather more, in a few moments perhaps.
Tiriana will take a loss on the cider in exchange for not playing fetch under N'thei's orders. In fact, she goes so far as to announce, "Somebody else will have some," with a snide look over at N'thei, her arms crossing.
Miss something? "Depends on how you feel about cider, lad." That's N'thei answering Luttrell, even while he's watching Kasadel go carting off the apples, bemusement in his expression for a second; there are actually people, real people, that don't drink whatever's in front of them without question? At the Reaches?! "Are candidates allowed to drink, Milani? Don't remember all the rules." Then a look up to Tiriana, the mouth of his present bottle extended her way and wagged, innnviiiittting. "Maybe, but /I/ have some right now."
Intercepted before she can reach the baskets again, Leova settles for the sack Luttrell's got now after all. "Fell off the top," she says briefly, not like it's a problem, not like he's going to have to jump and make it better. Her eyes narrow at the black-haired youth: "You're the one Masoth got, aren't you, that time..." Vrianth was oblivious, like how Vrianth's /been/ oblivious every time Leova's had her near someone looking remotely eligible, even if that hasn't been so very often with the whole got-sick thing. "Liking things all right? Bit of a change of pace, this." And then he addresses someone else, and she catches sight of whom, of the brownrider just past him: the nod and the bottle-wagging go on without her as she just stands stock still for a moment. Or two, or three.
"They can have a sample, but if you get them drunk, you get to clean up the candidate barracks after the mess they'll make," is Milani's blithe-enough response. "A sip, a taste, a little bit, but no shenanigans," she continues. "And there's tons of good things to eat and drink up at the Gather. Are you /seriously/ going to have all that by yourself, N'thei?"
"I'd die of thirst before I'd get you anything," Tiriana informs N'thei with a snurling up of her nose at him. She very deliberately glances away, but eyeing the other company remaining, she doesn't look real thrilled with it, either, eyeing Kasadel's departure, then Milani, and finally N'thei again. Spiting your face, not so much fun.
Slow, perhaps, but L'vae eventually gets around to noticing that N'thei is there under that nearby tree and look, it's Leova, too. His smile subtly falters, eyes shifting between the other riders, before the brownrider comes back to address the candidate with a chuckle. "Don't let me force you - it looks like the others may be breaking for dinner anyway." His feet start moving on, leaving Luttrell to the greenrider's questions. But not before his gaze lingers on her again, a lopsided smile pulling high at one edge of his mouth as he gives a faint nod. It's Milani's words he then focuses on, the assistant headwoman and Tiriana becoming his destination even as he turns a curious look back towards the Weyrleader to see his reception of their comments.
Luttrell glances down at Leova, a warm smile going along with his nod. He might not have heard N'thei's statment, he's certainly not responded to it. "Yeah, I am. It's been fun, well, not so much the chores, but everything else. It's very different from what I'm used to. A warm place for a meal every evening, warm bathing pools, warm bed. I think they've spoiled me here." He chuckles.
N'thei, shrug; "Suit yourself." He tilts his head back and empties the bottle in a deliberately lengthy chug, wipes his finger under his lip afterward to clear the single-smudge of cider across his chin. Empty bottle to the crate, another uncorked. "Thought crossed my mind, Millie, but if you want to go fetch me a plate...?" There's more than enough bottles there to make good on his trade offer, though he keeps an eye toward Luttrell-- anyone?
The greenrider tries a smile back at the brownrider but it's no more centered than his, for all that some might think they should be used to it by now. She doesn't try to intercept him, just lets him pass. And focuses back on Luttrell as much as she can. "Hopefully not spoiled as bad as the apples, hm?" Leova teases. "And all this warm-this, warm-that. Would think we were Southern or something." Only afterward does she admit, "Meant how you liked today, so far as a change of pace from being back at the Weyr, but maybe even better to know about the rest." Her gaze does eventually, briefly slide toward the crate: /something's/ up, even if she hadn't been paying attention to what, and who's going to fall first?
"How about I help you carry that back up thattaway," Milani nods her head towards the Gather square. "And you promise me a dance, and I will get you two whole plates," she counters the Weyrleader's suggestion and tilts a look over at Tiriana, something amused slipping across her face at the goldrider's determined comments.
"Oh, right." Luttrell replies to the greenrider. "I'm used to visiting this place." He gestures to indicate the hold in general. "It's being at the weyr thats different for me. You spend enough nights on the road, and any place is a welcome change." He explains and follows her gaze toward N'thei's crate, thus remembering something about a trade. Frowning slightly as Milani seems to have made the weyrleader a pretty good offer, Luttrell gives a shrug and looks toward the gather grounds and then back to Leova. "I wonder if we'll be finished soon, looks like things are picking up. Should be fun."
And Sunniva's been here the whole time, though she's since relinquished her basket of apples and is engaged in unobtrusive conversation with another candidate. At N'thei's request for a plate from Milani -- and subsequent denial of such -- she interjects as politely as possible with, "I can get you a plate if you would like, sir." And yet, there's a slight wince, as if offering to do so without being directly asked might be worthy of some kind of backlash.
N'thei puts his bottle-free hand protectively around the edge of the crate, lays his arm across the top of it to further drive home the point that he's defending it. From Milani. Because she's such a threat. "How about you just go get-- never mind." Sunniva, set to cringe, earns the brightness of a sudden smile, one that he briefly ensures incorporates the assistant headwoman as well. "I would like, miss. Thank you."
The shrug, the switching out of the quickly emptied bottle, has L'vae's gaze falling away from the Weyrleader with a smirked grin and a little shake of his head. He's managed to make his way up to Milani, so now the line of his lips curves more genuinely as he comes to a stop and lets his filled basket rest against his knees. "Hi Millie," the brownrider notes quietly before turning a glance out again to take in the most recent development to the food-delivery issue: Sunniva. His eyebrows go up, weight shifting towards the assistant headwoman. Not that his voice is pitched low enough to be truly conspiratorial. "Looks like you missed out on your dance," he says with playful sympathy.
One down. No, two. Or three, depending on the count. "Refreshing outlook," Leova meanwhile comments to Luttrell, and quite sincerely at that. "Depending on how many nights it takes to make the difference, of course! Now, aren't you glad you didn't offer the man a dance? Although... did you see /that/." An actual smile. From N'thei! Leova marvels silently and none too subtly before suggesting, "Might as well check with Milani, see about heading up for dinner, and whatever's after."
At once, Tiriana glances Sunniva's way, eyeing the candidate up and down as if just now seeing her for the first time; she declares quickly, "Suck-up brown-noser. Go scurry around for him, that's it." And she, firmly superior with her principles, does not move from her stand on the grass, though she does make a little hand-waving motion for Sunniva to go do just that.
Milani just shrugs at N'thei's refusal, but shoots Sunniva a worried glance. "Don't let him push you around," she advises the holder girl, then gives L'vae's basket a little bump with her hip. "Good haul," she says approvingly and then sets fingers to lips and whistles sharply. Down a ways several candidates look up. "Dinner if you want it!" she calls out loudly, then cocks her head L'vae's way winningly. "Want to go for a spin, Lou?"
The smile that's spared for Milani -- as Tiriana's words are simply not heard -- is a warm one, even if it is wordless, and speaks volumes in and of itself. She's accustomed to this; raised for obeying the beck and call of others. Ever the obedient one -- and oblivious to any other looks her way, if her expression is any indication -- Sunniva merely inclines her head to N'thei and then proceeds onward with in a flurry of skirts and a muted, "Of course, sir."
Luttrell glances toward Milani as she whistles. "Ah, good timing." He notes closing his sack into one hand. "Care to join me for a bite to eat?" He offers to Leova, ready to offload his sack and head toward the gather grounds. "Unless you have other plans." His glances toward the group not eyeing anyone in paticular.
Delighted; "Don't think she heard you, love. Why don't you go chase her down and tell her how wrong it is that she's doing what she's told, neh?" L'vae, swooping in to collect Milani, merits a chuckle while N'thei stays comfortably ensconced beneath his tree, with a drink, with a girl off fetching him a meal, all's right with the world.
A worried frown is turned Sunniva's way, but the assistant headwoman proves an effective distraction. "Thanks - think I might leave my other job," L'vae notes playfully as dimples show around his smile. The whistle has the brownrider leaning back, flicking a quick glance out to those candidates. But mostly, he's focused on Milani. "With you? Always." He shifts the basket into the grip of one hand so he can offer her an elbow. "Do I get two plates of dinner, too?" Smiling eyes slide over briefly to N'thei.
"Scurry!" Tiriana, having stumbled on a fancy word, resorts to shouting it after Sunniva, and in so doing plays right into N'thei's hands. She sends him an ugly look, like it's his fault, which really it is. "If she's stupid enough to do it, let her," she declares with a twist of her mouth. "People like that deserve what they get." And she nods a sharp little nod.
Whistle! "And... that answers that. Don't mind if I do," Leova returns amiably, "At least, for the walk over." And she starts walking, well after Sunniva: no signs of wanting to take custody of Luttrell's apple-sack, though, not with her hands laced behind her back. "Have particular friends yet? Among the other candidates, anyway, knew you know Oys already."
Milani slips her hand through L'vae's elbow as it's offered and she smiles over at him warmly. She turns though, distracted for a moment to give some instructions about where to bring all the apple bounty for carting away by Reaches riders. N'thei earns himself a sweeter-than-sweet smile next. "You be nice to her, N'thei," is what Millie says in answer to the Weyrleader, "and no getting her drunk either."
Luttrell back tracks to drop off his sack, then joins Leova, considering that question for several long moments as he glances toward Sunniva. Does he dare to consider her a friend, would she take offence at that? Would she be offended if he didn't?. He gives a shrug. "A few maybe, I've met quite a few people, several on more then one occasion, and then staying with the other candidates, but I don't know if that would qualify them as 'friend' just yet." He offers finally.
Scurry? Sunniva doesn't scurry, though she does /hurry/ -- which only differs from the former by virtue of impeccable posture and trained grace -- and which ensures that she'll pass Leova and Luttrell (both worthy of a quick nod and smile) on her way back. The trek back is a bit more carefully managed, as she's balancing a plate of various foodstuffs -- things she wouldn't dare to eat herself -- on a hand and with a small skin of something or another being clutched in the other. If she'd heard Tiriana's shout, she makes no indication of such, to the point of simply not looking at the other woman. Out of sight, out of mind and all that.
N'thei answers Milani's warnings with a blithe smile beneath his bottle; so innocent, then brushes his fingers through the air in a run-along motion to Milani and L'vae. "What, exactly, do you think she's going to 'get,' love? Gratitude? A free drink? Not getting kicked out of a Weyr?" He shakes his head doubtfully at the goldrider, tracking Sunniva's progress happily. "Really ought to be more like her, if you ask me." --Yes yes, no one did.
Leova sees Luttrell watching the rapidly disappearing girl, promptly asks, "What's the story behind her?" Sunniva. In her skirt. The shortly-thereafter reappearing girl, she of the nods-and-smiles, the greenrider returning a brief nod in reply. "And... call it friendship in the loose sense of the word, anyway. Doesn't have to be sworn blood brothers or anything, dare say Milani wouldn't care for the stains."
"Be that boring?" Tiriana scoffs at N'thei's words, still looking thoroughly disgruntled at this point. "A doormat? You really think that would be better." She doesn't believe it, rolls her eyes in fact as she watches, scowling still, as Sunniva bustles about on his bidding.
L'vae does a rather decent job at playing arm candy for Milani, waiting patiently by her side as she directs her charges. He does make use of the time, actually, to hand off his basket to a rather sour-faced young woman who was plucked from Balan. Once freed, his hand brushes absently against his trouser leg. That is, until he notices N'thei's gesture. Run along? His own fingers lift, waggling vertically. Toodles. "We can come back, check on them," he offers in a soft voice to Milani. "But I bet you could use a break - how long have you been out here?"
"Very loose." Luttrell replies another glance toward Sunniva. He gives a shrug then. "Not sure myself. She act's like a holders daughter, yet says shes from Fort weyr. She told me she was hold-bred first before she was at the weyr, which explains something, I guess, but..." He gives a helpless gesture as he doesn't really know what to say. A moment later he smirks. "You know, your like the fifth person to ask me that, and I barely know her."
Tiriana earns a slight purse of Milani's lips, but apparently the assistant headwoman isn't all that worried about Sunniva's treatment at N'thei's hands because she waits a moment or two to let candidates get ahead of her, then walks along with L'vae, nodding at his question. "Truth be told, you're right, I've been here most of the day and I'm /famished/," Millie confesses, sotto voce to the brownrider. N'thei's 'run along' only earns a roll of Milani's eyes. "Don't overeat, N'thei," she tells him sunnily over her shoulder and nods again at L'vae, tone low again. "Yes, thank you, Lou. I'll need to swing around to make sure no one's lingering anyway."
Leova says mildly, "Was born in a Hold myself, before I came here, Luttrell. It happens." Here in the loose sense of yet another word, her implication High Reaches this time. "And she's dressed that way... what's her name? And see, when you go really looking at someone, that's when you get questions asked about her. It happens." She reaches up a few times as they walk, plucking the odd leaf off the tree, and once looks back: the pair behind them, the scowling girl beyond that.
"There's something to be said for a girl that can follow orders." N'thei made no effort to hide the fact that his line-of-thought had strayed well wide of fetching dinner, the trick at the corner of his mouth only chased away when he refocused his attention on Tiriana. He says something afterward, his forehead lowered to indicate L'vae-and-Milani, but it's impossible to overhear beyond the confines of his tree.
N'thei whispers "I like that, the whore and the homo. Neither of them's going home happy tonight, neh?"
"I do hope it is sufficient," Sunniva states with some fretful chewing at her lip as she offers the plate -- still balanced on her fingertips -- to N'thei -- timed to coincide with the end of his conversation with Tiriana. A simple arrangement of foods on the plate, though likely drawn from recollections of her brother's eating habits; a masculine assortment of meat and such, in other words. The skin is still clutched in other other hand, explained away with a simple, "Water." And not for him, as he has plenty to drink, though she'd be quick to relinquish even that, if asked.
"We will get you something," L'vae promises to Milani being famished, reaching across to give her hand on his arm a pat. The line of his brow is sympathetic. As they've begun to walk, his eye has picked out Luttrell amongst the candidates before them. Maybe it's due to the teen's height, instead of the greenrider beside him. In any case, when Millie's glance turns back, the brownrider's follows to the group by the tree. It lingers, indecisive. But something - Manners? Masochism? - makes him lift his voice to call back before they've gone too far. "I wonder, weyrwoman, if you would like to join us to get something for dinner?"
Tiriana, dirty-minded little thing, is quick to follow N'thei's train of thought, eyes cutting sideways at him from Sunniva. "The kind that just lays there," she concludes herself, though her brow furrows up as she can't help but lean in a little bit to catch his lowered words, her mouth twisting into a smirk despite herself as she looks after L'vae and Milani herself. She snickers. "Still time, though, right? Not like they need a whole lot of it to work."
Luttrell goes on the defensive just a little. "Hey, I wasn't really looking at her, I was just thinking. But then, I don't have to, it seems like any time I say hi to her, everyone assumes I know her. It's about the same as my knowing you." He gestures to the greenrider. "I know Vrianth is your dragon, and I know your name is Leova, but I don't /really/ know anything else about you. Now if I was to look at you like this." He takes a step away from her and considers her thoughtfully for a moment, then is back next to her again as he continues. "People automatically assume I /know/ you." He sighs.
"Thanks, Lou," Milani says with true gratitude as they walk though L'vae's subsequent invitation to Tiriana makes her eyes close briefly. "You're too nice," she tells him confidentially. "But I'll put on my best manners if she decides to come along," the assistant headwoman says with brave stoicism. "After all, you will be taking me dancing," she says in a pleased manner.
Masculine assortment of meat... N'thei takes the plate with a glance at it, not picky enough for is-sufficient to come into play. "Sit," is his next direction to Sunniva, palm waved vaguely toward a spot of unoccupied grass before he puts the bottle between his legs and hovers over the plate. "Tiriana and I-- do you know Tiriana?-- were discussing..." He looks up to the goldrider, searching for a term, tucking a bite into his cheek so the smirk is harder to see straight out. "We were discussing incompatibility, square pegs and, ahem, round holes. How do you like the Reaches?" Like one thought is connected to the next.
"Oh. Certainly." Directive given, it is promptly obeyed, with Sunniva opting to kneel and summarily smoothing her skirts down with a hand. A shake of her head at the first question, a sidelong look finally being given to the goldrider, and then her attention fixes -- with a distinctly puzzled expression -- onto N'thei again. Square pegs? Round holes? It all seems to go right over her head. So, she answers the question she can and that's with a matter-of-fact, "I suppose I like it well enough, sir, but I do rather miss Fort."
As Luttrell goes on, as L'vae invites, the third L looks back to where she's walking after all: just a glance at the candidate now and again, and once a rueful nod. "Maybe it's just that your knowing anything is more than they know, hm? And. You may have heard my name in connection with the scavenger hunt, by way of a broad hint. So that's something else." A few steps later, a distinctly more sidelong look, "Vrianth appreciates your remembering her name. By the way. And suggests that you look at /everyone/ that way."
That L'vae's comment is directed at her registers only belatedly on Tiriana, who's more interested in not-so-subtle double entendres with N'thei. Still, after a moment to stop snickering after the pair, she shakes her head and calls back, "No, thanks!" So polite, except for the sarcastic tone and lingering smirk. But she does wave them off, and reach to snag an apple from a passing basket--she is bereft of cider, after all. Then she sits, too, much less gracefully than Sunniva. No comments on incompatibility as N'thei terms it; she settles for a singularly bitter, "Fort."
"Tiriana doesn't share your fondness for Fort, obviously. Her-- well, suppose you can't really call him her weyrmate now that they don't even live in the same timezone?" N'thei looks between the two girls for clarification on the terminology, eating all the while. "Come to think of it," forces a swallow, washes it down. "Your sister's the Weyrwoman, her whatever-he-is is the Weyrleader, so they... Mmn. Small world, isn't it." Even he must know when he's toeing the line; the current bottle, held by the neck, gets offered toward the goldrider though he continues looking conversationally at Sunniva.
Gaze dragging back to Milani, the brownrider's grin warps a touch sheepishly. "Sorry," he breathes quietly back. "And there will certainly be dancing," followed by a little squeeze from his hand before it falls away. It's then that Tiriana's response comes. L'vae turns a pleasantly bright smile over his shoulder at the goldrider and gives a little nod of acceptance, apparently unfazed by the sarcasm. This leaves him to continue on at an easier amble at the redhead's side. "There, nothing to be endured," he notes with quiet cheer. Moving on. "How have you been, Millie? I haven't caught up with you in awhile."
"I suppose." Luttrell replies with a nod of his own. "Speaking of which, I had been meaning to ask you about a..." He is thoughtful again for a few moments then he smiles. "Ah I remember, a river rock wasn't it?" At the mention of Vrianth's comment, the candidate grins flushing a little. "I shall have to remember that. Course, looking at everyone like that might get me attention I don't want." He gestures with a mock slap to his face ending as a grin. "This is a longer walk then I thought it would be." He notes as they finally reach the gather grounds and serving tables. He gestures again, but this is fir her to precede him in line for food.
"Oh, that sounds awful," is remarked with genuine apology and a twist of sympathy for Tiriana, her mouth pulling just a little to one side and eyes flicking askance to her again before dropping. Sunniva sets her skin of water aside and folds her hands in her lap, lapsing into polite silence as she seems to have little to say on the matter. There's a nod, of course, acknowledging the words, but nothing more.
"Fort is too the same timezone!" Tiriana protests the only thing she can protest with admirable heat. Following swiftly is a lower, "He's the Weyrleader. That's it. He /is/ my weyrmate." She takes the bottle more automatically than anything else, eyes N'thei like she's really struggling not to smash the bottle over the back of his head when he looks away.
Unusually agreeable, uncharacteristically sympathetic, N'thei echoes, "It does sound awful." But his smile is too happy, his eyes overly bright while they watch the poor poor goldrider. "Drink, darling. Increases the chances I'll survive the night. --Do you drink, Sunniva?" It's a Very Important Matter.
Leova may not speak to whether Luttrell's objection might have been something Vrianth intended, but that smile of hers may grant more than just its validity... if it's not just a smothered laugh at his slap-acting to begin with. Instead, "Rock, right. And no, don't have one on me, so you'll have to look me up later, hm? And any of your fellow candidates, too, unless you're concerned about their beating you to it...." Food! She starts filling her own plate, but mentions before moving on their separate ways, "A walk, but hopefully the meal will be worth it. Good seeing you again." Off she goes. Doesn't look back. There's a harper's ear to bend.
Luttrell gives a nod. "Alright, I'll try to catch you tomorrow then, hopefully I'll remember it." He smiles and gives her a wave as they go their seperate ways. With a full plate, he takes a seat at a near empty table and start munching away, occasionally glancing the way of the dancers on the dance floor.
The topic of her sister and the status of Tiriana's weyrmate is one that she is easily able to gloss over by not commenting. N'thei's echoing of her words elicits another nod; agreeing. Hands splay in her lap, then fold together with a different lacing of fingers, and her head lifts again to focus on the man as he speaks. Sunniva answers the last with a careful, "Not often, sir." It's not a 'no'.
Tiriana shakes her head. "Not really," she differs, voice still flat. "Makes me more--" Whatever; she doesn't finish, just waves a hand to fill in the blank while she does take a drink. And offer a mocking little echo of Sunniva, "Not often," as she works into a sulk that at least reduces her glaring at N'thei's head. Instead, she glances after L'vae and Milani with apparent second thoughts, though the pair are fast disappearing toward their own destination.
"Not often." N'thei, like Tiriana, repeats the words, his own echo from the context of a brow creeping doubtfully upward, with his bowl set aside and his hand protectively slack across the cask of cider again. "And how are you fitting in again?" No, never mind. With that hand to brace him, he pushes to his feet, back slid along the tree trunk in reverse this time. "Much as I'd like to know what it makes-you-more..."
Confused by the question, all Sunniva can do is lift a shoulder helplessly and hope that it's enough. Though N'thei's getting up, she makes no such move to stand and likely won't until she's bid to do so or N'thei leaves; either or. Instead, "No, not often. It does not-" her mouth contorts a little with an indecipherable something, "-suit me, I suppose. The effect is not desireable."
"Don't leave me alone with her. Tiriana's glowering at N'thei for being mean to her turns into glowering at him for abandoning her; fickle woman. She shoves up to her own feet quickly, bottle coming with her--clutched to her, actually. The look she shoots down at the still-seated Sunniva is equal parts disdain, disgust, and outright horror as she mumbles, "Not desireable my ass."
"Dancing fixes pretty much everything," Milani states confidently to L'vae as they move along out of earshot of Weyrleader and goldrider and candidate. "And that's a relief, honestly. I can put up with her most days, but not her and N'thei in combination. ANd I /really/ hope that Sunniva will be okay." Then it's face forward as they catch up to some outlying Candidates and cross out from under trees into meadow and to the Gather area itself. "Oh you know, busy with tithes and Candidates and stuff, but otherwise pretty good really. You?"
"You don't exactly make it--" N'thei drops a look to Sunniva, a borrowed term. "Desirable to stay, baby." He hefts the crate up with both hands, a toe to nudge the plate he has every intention of leaving behind. For Sunniva to deal with. See what happens when you give a man an inch? "Enjoy the party, miss."
Any uncertainty that surfaces is quickly quelled beneath a well-constructed mask of polite neutrality. "I shall, thank you. Do take care," the latter being directed evenly and earnestly toward both of them. Sunniva dips her head and merely waits, a long-fingered hand reaching to take the plate and draw it near. She'll take care of it.
Polite goodbyes are not Tiriana's forte. She settles for a brusque nod Sunniva's way, and then heading off rapidly in whatever direction N'thei isn't aimed for.