[Log] Best Clutching Party EVAR, Pt. 1
Who: Altina (NPC), Anvori, A'son, Betegal, Carobet, Evayne, Leova, K'del, Milani, Rorkes, Tiriana, Ulestien, Vaan, Whitchek, Yuliye
When: Day 2, Month 9, Turn 10
Where: Lakeshore, High Reaches Weyr
What: The celebration of Iovniath and Cadejoth's eggs.
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.
Is it party time yet?! It sure seems so, what with the kitchen staff having set up long banquet tables and mini fires so meat can be roasted on spits all across the rocky shore. The clouds of earlier have dissipated to make for the most perfect barbecuing atmosphere. Meanwhile, handymen work closer to the lake's shore in setting up the tall wooden planks that'll make for the later night's bonfire. "Watch out!" calls out one man when a board threatens to topple and bean someone in the head.
"No, over there," Milani is gesturing about the placement of large ceramic jugs of cool drinks. "Right after the food," she says and props her hands on her hips, the lightweight wrap she wears over her gown fluttering a little in the breeze. "Excellent!" the headwoman says with a bright smile. "That'll work out nicely." And then it's ducking instinctively even though she's not near the planking.
K'del has changed from the clothes he was wearing during the days, into something more dressy, though the sleeves of his shirt have been rolled up to the elbows in deference to the fineness of the weather. He weaves his way through the early arrivals, agreeing enthusiastically with compliments on the clutch, never lingering with one group longer than a few minutes. "Hang on," he tells one group. "Just need to go get myself a drink. No, haven't been on the sands, but I was watching for a bit."
Midst all this Anvori's directing a pair of bartenders who usually work the Snowasis behind a rickety table. His low, furtive words, "Now, we know just how volatile the Weyrwoman," pause to exhale and then look around with mock-furtiveness, "Is. So keep the liquor pouring and make sure everyone's... happy. Pleasant," when paired with that dimpled smile and the half-lid of one eye is likely a tease. But it's a directive the bartenders take to heart as they start mixing drinks at their makeshift stand. Anvori, bossman that he is, takes one of the first two drinks and begins circulating, sipping from one, and keeping the other free for someone else. Anyone else who might be parched.
Tiriana, guest of honor--such as it is, since Iovniath did all the real work and is now sands-bound with her eggs--has cleaned up, too, into a snug little dress; no surprises there. And she makes her way down to the lake, amidst many well-wishes and congratulations, to which she responds perfunctorily at best. Her target, tall as he is, is easily spotted. "Weyrleader." In that tone? It bodes nothing good, although maybe at least the fancy clothes, if not the public party, will keep her from outright violence.
Being precisely on time to a party is probably not fashionable, but there's been rumored to be food somewhere in the vicinity and so Whitchek is most definitely here. Dressed up properly may be beyond his abilities without help, but he's managed clean clothes, and as he crosses the bowl he smoothes his hair back vigorously with both hands. He gives the workers plenty of space, lingering about the edge and hunting for a familiar or, preferably, friendly face of some sort.
K'del's path towards the drinks is, thus, prematurely dead-ended, as Tiriana's use of his title draws his attention away from that target, and towards the Weyrwoman instead. "Weyrwoman," he responds, keeping his own tone neutral, though his brows have raised just slightly. "Cadejoth is positively brimming with pride; it's an excellent clutch. Can I get you a cool drink, something to eat?"
Anvori is certainly not a familiar face, but he is a friendly one -- a friendly one /with/ alcohol. A glass of something clear and slightly pungent appears in front of Whitchek as the amateur brewer comes within his vicinity. Dressed dapper in rich blues and smoky greys, the trim man leans in to the younger man to note, "Saw the dragons bring those in this morning. Would swear some of those beams are longer than a green dragon," with his own drink hand gesturing up and up. "Anvori," he introduces himself, his smile quick, his charming wink even quicker. "And you might be?"
"There are sixteen of them," Tiriana has a different opinion. Obviously. But people really are watching, and so with some measure of propriety, she forces a smile--even if it doesn't change her tone at all, and mostly just exposes half-gritted teeth. "And they are ass-ugly. This is your fault." And just in case that doesn't make it clear, she jabs a finger at his chest, just for a moment. And then, abruptly changing tacks, "I need a big drink."
Milani straightening again, Milani tucks her wrap a little more firmly around herself and tilts a look upward. "Big as dragons but more dangerous?" she quips Anvori's way and tilts a look around at Whitchek. "At least if they drop one," she elaborates with a hint of humor playing around her mouth.
Vaan is wearing a fresh set of clothes and his hair damp from a bath. He walks up to the makeshift bar he askes for some wine. He take's the one passed to him and mutter's a thanks. He turns to look to see who's all here he sees whitchek as the most familier face. He walks up to Whitchek " Hey, how are you doing whitchek?" he turns and looks at the otehr man talking to Whitchek and offers a hand. " Nice to meet you I'm Vaan."
"Which is one more than there was in my clutch," points out K'del, apparently not seeing the problem here. "Sixteen seems like a decent enough number to me. As for being ugly... /I/ don't think so. Some of them are downright pretty." Some of them. He doesn't - perhaps wisely - respond to the accusation, though his gaze drops to her finger dubiously. "I'm sure they'll hatch just fine. What kind of drink do you want? I'll find you one. Unity, right? It's our big day." Please?
Friendly is better than most of the familiarity Whitchek could hope for at this point, and he takes the offered drink from Anvori with great alacrity. Then he peers at it. "Whitchek," he says to Anvori, and then hearing his name uttered, "Vaan, hey. Doing good, you know." He lifts the drink up and eyes it with skepticism. "What is it?" And then he drinks anyway, evidently having missed any parental cautions about taking drinks from strange men.
"Yeah, but your clutch had an idiot Istan for a sire," Tiriana points out. "Which may be the only thing worse than you." Nothing like Weyr solidarity. Or xenophobia, whichever. "I want a strong one. Whatever. I don't care, just give me /some/thing before I kill one of these--people." And that would be diplomacy in action, that that's all she says about them. At any rate, she's shaking her head as she glances over the growing party, adds, "They're still ugly. I keep having to tell her that just means they'll be extra beautiful on the inside. That's what they say, right? Ugly people are pretty on the inside."
"Hey, red. Doing ok?" Anvori is far from strange. See, even the innocuous Headwoman is making quips at him, so he must be harmless (enough). Then again, Milani's known to hang around some volatile men herself so... Either way, with one hand now free of the glass, it shoves into his pocket and he rocks an easy sway on the balls of his feet. The growing bonfire gains a very high chin-lifted, curious appraisal. Mused aloud, "I'm not sure how they get them to stand like that. Hmmm- mmm?" Distracted by his thoughts, a belated glance down takes in the contents of Whitchek's glass and then Vaan suddenly so nearby. First, "Anvori. Pleased to meet you." Second, "Vodka and a lemon-lime bubbly. It'll ease you into the party."
K'del seems determined not to let Tiriana's mood spoil his day; he smiles placidly, merely noting, "And beautiful people are ugly on the inside, right." Is that aimed at her? If it is, he's not showing it in his tone, or his expression. "One strong drink, coming up. Go mingle - and be /nice/ - until I come back, all right?"
"It's been a pretty decent day, yes, thanks Anvori. You?" Milani inquires back. "And glad things sound like they're going well with you Whitchek," the headwoman says to the younger man with another smile. "Isn't that a little strong for a starter?" she asks laughingly of the barman, though she too is observing the construction of the bonfire. "You know ...I have no idea either."
Yuliye, master of timing, selects the precise moment K'del drifts away from Tiriana to fall in step with him, to try and slide her arm around his elbow. Dressed in a summery baby pink outfit /just/ out of season, if not for the thick white shawl over her shoulders, the Crom woman might make it her evening's effort to make sure the Weyrleader doesn't 'come back all right.' "So," starts that bright voice filled with rainbow charm, "Should I worry that I haven't heard a thing from you of late, Weyrleader K'del, sir?"
Hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket, Evayne plods on down towards the lake and the grouping of people and the /fire/, yay. The young woman's already meandering pace slows further as she gets in the general area, eyes jumping from here to there to over /there/ as she takes everything in.
Vaan laughs " Nice to met you Anvori I see you know your drink's." He grins at Whitchek " It's good to hear that." Looking at Anvori " I think they stay up by leaning on each other." Trying to look smart " So how many egg's were clutched?" he askes to no one hopeing someone has a answer.
"Because we can be and people still want us." Tiriana clearly takes it as aimed at her, but rather than tick her off more, it actually makes her smirk again. "I /am/ being nice. I don't need the baby to babysit me," she insists, with a sniff. But with her Weyrleader sent to fetch her drink, she does as asked anyway, making nice with various people for the time. But it's hard to miss that dark head that latches onto K'del as soon as he's away, and Tiriana shoots a narrow-eyed look at the back of Yuliye.
"Dunno, never tried it myself." Whitchek regards the bonfire preparation activities thoughtfully. "Never saw any need for a fire that big, though." He seems to be making pretty quick headway on the vodka-and-whatever. "Better than they were for awhile," he assures Milani. Eyes the glass. "This isn't bad. Not bad at all. Doesn't taste that strong at all."
Eyeing the bonfire's construction from a discreet distance, a /safe/ distance, only lasts so long. Leova leans on her wingmate's shoulder, the better to rise onto her toes and look about, and then abandons the man with a whispered comment in favor of making her way towards where tall Milani's bright hair serves as a beacon. Not in such a hurry as all that, it's easy enough to nod-and-smile at passersby.
K'del's gaze flickers, as though he's just managing to avoid rolling his eyes at Tiriana, but he keeps his expression, otherwise, more or less even as he tips his head towards her, and turns to move away. His smile? Well, it's not /completely/ fake, surely. Yuliye's arm tilts his head up, though he allows the manoeuvre to proceed, brows lifting briefly as he considers the dark-haired girl. Maybe the fact that he draws her arm in so that they can walk together arm-in-arm is unrelated to Tiriana. Maybe not. "Do you think that you should, Yuliye? What should I have been contacting you for, mm?"
"It's /vodka/, it's not supposed to taste strong. That's how it gets you," Millie says with a laugh and a playfully suspicious look Anvori's way. Fingers lace behind her back and toy with the edges of her wrap where it dangles over the back of her much-too-light-really-for-the-weather dress. "It's always fun when they set that first bit alight. You know, flames start running up the wood," she notes about the bonfire-in-progress.
"Right?" He does know his liquor and an easy smile is spared for Vaan for his flattery. "It's not very strong, there's more of the bubbly than there is alcohol and it'll relax you right up in time for the dancing later." A lean hand comes to pat Whitchek reassuringly on the shoulder, all amiable and older brotherly, never mind Anvori's the shortest guy at the lake it would seem. "Did you want a drink as well, red? Vaan?"
Yuliye has a sunny, 'oh /you/,' laugh, long practiced and perfected for K'del's return question. She might even punch him in the shoulders in that girlish-I'm-so-cute-but-really-no way, except that her fingers are steadily climbing to make that hand-arm tuck all the more intimate. "How are you two getting along?" Hazel eyes can't help but glance over her shoulders, to try and find a familiar sulking face and perhaps flash a teasing little smile the Weyrwoman's way. "How've your first months as Weyrleader been?"
Dancing. Whitchek takes a long swig with that word. "Good, good. Try to avoid too much of the strong stuff. One thing to relax... well, you know." Another drink. He's just trying to relax slightly more quickly, that's all. At Anvori's friendly gesture, he starts to lean away--then stops, because that's silly. It's friendly. All friendly. Nothing to be skittish about. "What time will they do that?" he inquires of Milani, who has so far established herself as safe and usually clueful.
Carobet makes her way through the crowd, weaving her way through the clusters of people here and there and seeming very concerned with the welfare of her drink. Both her eyes are on an over-full cup she holds in one hand, which is quite nearly spilled several times as she is bumped and jostled in attempts to reach the bonfire. But finally! She's finally spotted face that she recognizes, Milani and-- "Rebel."
Vaan laughs " I bet it is a sight to see a bonfire of this size." Raising his glass of wine. " No thanks I got my wine for now." He smiles kindly and takes a sip of his wine. Looking at whitchek and gives a small laugh " I didn't think of whitchek being a dancer." He looks at the bonfire being built. " I hope there's dancing." He smiles " I am a half decent dancer if I'm not drunk."
Tiriana catches that glance backward from Yuliye, and then she turns away, moving away from her designated waiting spot out into the crowd. Mingling, right. The mingling works for a few minutes, and then Tiriana is seeking out the first familiar, tolerable (this cuts the list down significantly) person she sees. In this case, it's Evayne. "Hi. Quick, make like we're having some big important all-attention-consuming conversation," says the Weyrwoman.
"If you don't mind hooking me up," Milani tells Anvori with a little sidelong smile and then a nod past towards Whitchek. "As soon as they finish setting it up," the headwoman provides an answer about the bonfire. "Need to you know, cook stuff," she waves towards where some of the food is. "Better stay sober then," is quipped Vaan-wards next. Carobet's approach and the call of 'rebel', earns lifted brows and curiosity from the headwoman. "Carobet, hey there!" is her merry greeting nonetheless.
K'del is hardly likely to object to the increasingly intimate contact Yuliye has initiated - not given who, and perhaps /what/ she is. "She hates my guts, but you're well aware of that already," he tells her, not without a laugh, the kind designed to indicate 'not, of course, that I care in the least, the silly girl'. He doesn't glance back, doesn't so much as consider Tiriana, though he guides them clearly towards the drinks, where he takes a position in the waiting line of people - no cutting to the front, here. "Busy," he reports. "But not too bad, as these things go. Things are settling down."
Meander, start to head in the vague direction of the drinks, and then...Weyrwoman. Important conversation. Evayne looks briefly surprised, and then she's putting on an easy grin and turning her head just so, focusing all apparent attention on Tiriana. "Well, that's easy to do," she points out. She keeps her voice reasonably hushed, and aside from that grin of hers, she does quite well at putting on the requested body language. "Are you enjoying yourself, this evening? I mean, as much as is possible?"
Right about to bump into Evayne herself, Leova flashes the younger woman a smile and ducks right on past as Tiriana steps up. Off toward the Milani-beacon! It takes a little while to get there, some sidling, some outright sidestepping, and a step on her freshly polished boots. And /then/... it's /still/ a matter of room.
Little skewers of meat sliced off the larger spit-fire hulks are starting to make their rounds on the plates of drudges and from one that passes, Anvori masterfully plucks off a whole handful, then turns to hold them out in a fan to the little cluster of people about him. "One drink coming up for my lovely red. And-," Rebel turns to find Snugglebunny, the sight of whom evokes a low-toned chuckle. "Anvori. Call me Anvori. And-," he starts, then stops with a merry shake of his head for the drink she already carries, "You don't need a drink yet it seems."
Once in line, Yuliye takes a small step back, her arm dropping, though not entirely drifting her hand away from K'del's. Instead, the thin fingers play idly at his wrist, making patterns blind, as she keeps her light eyes up upon the Weyrleader. "If you have time then, and you've thought about it. Want to make a trip with me?" Divide and conquer; and of the two, Tiriana and K'del, the man is always the easier to wrap around charming girls' pinkies, right? "I'd like to show you the land my uncle had in mind to...," a pause purses her lips prettily into the bows of a maybe kiss, or just a better word for, "Loan," that she ultimately fails at coming up with. "To loan the Weyr."
"No," Whitchek quickly agrees with Vaan. "Not especially. Oh! Food." His free hand--the one not holding the rapidly dwindling drink--goes for one of the skewers. "Thanks. I'm just about famished. Leova!" The drink practically gets hidden behind his back when he spots her, moving a bit to the side to create some space. "How very nice to see you here." Drinking? Not Whit. Of course not.
Tiriana is not nearly so good at passing off an intent conversation as Evayne is: she keeps glancing about the rest of the party, nodding and offering an almost-smile to the people that continue to greet her in passing. But she looks back to Evayne after a moment, grimaces. "I have been on the sands since sunrise, trying to reassure my dragon that no, her eggs aren't really that ugly-looking and it's not her fault even if they are. That's how I am." Just thinking about it now makes her rub her temple just for a moment. But, with a modicum of politeness, "How are you?"
Carobet smiles brightly back to Milani, acting as if she hadn't noticed the raise of eyebrows from the headwoman. "Millie! How are you?" Finally she sips at her drink carefully, holding the cup level with her mouth, in order to get the liquid to just under the too-full point. She feigns mock-indignation at the revelation of Anvori's name. "You /lied/ to me? And here I thought you were a gentleman." A more comfortable sip from her glass, and, "No, I'm quite fine with this one, thank you." But she'll take a skewer, yum.
Out comes Lest! Idly wandering out towards the lake, he's quiet too. A thoughtful smile on his face and then spotting the others there, the man is stuck looking between them all and deciding a path. But, he doesn't turn to find anyone in particular, not yet as he's going to get something to drink.
Vaan smiles at milani " I won't get drunk yet at least not sipping wine." he grins " But after I have finished dancing I might move to a stronger drink." grinning still " So how many egg's are there on the sands?" he see Whit head for food " Hey save some for me." He turns and grabs a skewer. He takes a bite of the meat and then sips his wine. Looking at Anvori " what kind of wine are you serveing it's pretty good."
K'del turns his head, as Yuliye draws her arm away, gaze lingering for a moment on her thin fingers at his wrist, then rising back towards her ch-- face. Her /face/. "The land," he repeats, not stupidly, but thoughtfully, as though he's considering the idea all over again. "Reckon I could spare the time to take that trip, certainly. Should I be drawing out our loyal high reaches farmcrafters, or should that wait for another trip, if all goes well?" The line moves forward; as it does, he adds, "Tiriana's not keen on the whole venture. Doesn't trust your uncle one bit."
There's another bright smile flashed Leova-wards as the other woman passes, and then Evayne is refocusing on Tiriana again, wrinkling up her nose and even giving a little shudder to go along with it -- they're playfully emphasized, but...well, given the wince, perhaps some of the horror is genuine. "That's..." Pause. "I'm sorry." And there is definitely sympathy wound through her tone, found in that little wry smile she offers. "I'm doing well enough, all told. Waiting to hear from my father, but...well, I'm sure he'll get back to me eventually. He's never been the best at letters. Do you need something more to drink?" Little bit of concern there, oh yes.
"But aren't you Weyrleader?" It's such a simple question, backed by those big, trusting hazel eyes. Yuliye's fingers drop in a loose circle of her thumb and finger around his wrist. They move up a little in that line. Someone offer's K'del the courtesy of a cut. He is the Weyrleader after all, as Yuliye's reminded the entire line in her very clear, very carefully pitched voice.
"It's a good day, Carobet," Milani says with a smile for the healer. "Thanks Anvori," she says sweetly as he heads for drink-land. And hey, there's a Leova and Millie waves energetically towards her friend. "Hey Leova! Dancing soon."
K'del shakes his head quickly: no, no need to let them go in front. He can wait, like the rest of them. But the line is, at least, moving pretty quickly. "Of course I am," he tells Yuliye, keeping his tone even. "Prefer to do things with the support of my Weyrwoman, but if it doesn't work out that way - so be it. Haven't said I /won't/ agree, just because she's dubious. /I'm/ interested. On my terms, though."
"I lied," confirms Anvori to Carobet, the lone skewer left in his hand the flourish to his waist-bent bow. But it only half-completes as several people in their cluster notice Leova's approach and rising slowly from his bend, a glance casts over his shoulders to find the approaching greenrider. An unbidden smile hooks crookedly across his lips and should she come near enough, that singular, untouched meat-on-a-stick is extended with all the gravity usually imbued on the offer of a single-stemmed rose. His own tenor adds to the chorus, late, "Leova."
"Supposedly," and Tiriana emphasizes that look, with another glance back for K'del and Yuliye on his arm. "Supposedly, my Weyrleader is getting me something, but I think my best friend is too busy whoring it up on him for him to actually remember /me/." How miffed she sounds about that! Reluctantly, she admits, "Should probably eat something, but ugh. Food. Too /hot/. --What're you waiting on your daddy for?"
There's a look sent back in the direction Tiriana glances -- K'del and Yuliye identified fairly swiftly -- and then Evayne's attention is jumping right back, and she's even offering the woman *her* arm. "Well, let's go get ourselves something, then," she suggests. "And we can find something cool to eat too, I bet. Maybe some fruit or something that doesn't really feel like eating." There's a quick little nosewrinkle at the reference to her 'daddy', but even so she chuckles quietly, shrugging her outside shoulder. "Seeing if there's anything further he needs me to do before I settle."
Yuliye studies this exchange, intrigued, and accords her own gracious smile of thanks-but-no-thanks seconds after K'del shakes his head. /She/ wouldn't mind cutting, but when in Reaches... Speaking of Tirana, she tiptoes on her, likely uncomfortable, little heels to find the goldrider in question and when she fails drops onto the back of her shoes a little unstable forcing her to have to reach out to brace herself against K'del's arm. "Sorry," is her low, low, low apology, "But I'm not sure fifty-fifty will be Lord Crom's terms. Land, after all, is worth more than what's grown on it, no?"
Ulestien has his drink and then is looking around, Yuliye is spotted but then he's weaving over towards Evayne easily even though she's near Tiriana. Anyone else near is given a nod, "hey Eva." He greets, but is standing behind so not to attract too much attention.
Hailed, Leova gives Whit a suddenly grateful look to go with his skewer and the drink-he's-officially-not-drinking, and for that, the greenrider doesn't even angle to see what he might have so-swiftly stashed before she sidesteps into the offered space. "You too. Talk about a /crush/. Especially..." Her glance doesn't have to roam far to find the bartender, his drinks, and then Anvori all over again for a long, laughing moment. "Ah! Now I know why." It takes a moment to switch tracks to MIllie's greeting, and then, "... Dancing. Thanks for the warning." And /then/... then the skewer's presented thus, and her smile deepens, laughter in her eyes. She'll reach out to let the stick's barely exposed tip rest on her fingers, let it balance between them for a moment, and then pivot it up and over into her free hand with quick-murmured thanks.
Leova whispers "If you weren't on duty? I'd share."
A'son arrives to the party, fashionably late. Tonight he has a lovely lady on his arm. Her hair is finely done, swept up. She has on her best dress and she's just much too pretty to be there with him, by any standards. Plus, she looks like she actually likes him. But then it should also be noted that she's passing well on into her late sixties and that she keeps calling him, "Dear" as he escorts her. "So nice of you, dear. Certainly makes up for the other day. What a nice son I have." Aw, how cute. He brought his mom.
K'del's arm, conveniently, is nice and steady, and look, he even half turns to reach out his other arm, just in case the first alone is not sufficient. Can't have a lady fall on her face, after all. He /still/ doesn't look back at Tiriana, though, now that they've reached the front of the line, he does in fact order, cheerfully, "Something nice and strong for the Weyrwoman, a beer for me, and -- Yuliye? Something for you?" It's in a lower tone, though still quite calm, that he adds, "But land that isn't being used is worth almost nothing at all, surely, in real terms."
There's a great deal of friendliness in the air now and Whitchek seems to be getting progressively more uncomfortable with all of it. Maybe the talk of dancing has something to do with it. "Does seem... busy," he agrees with Leova. Since her's attention seems too scattered for the chance of disapproval--although why she'd disapprove is a question--the first drink quickly becomes history. "Any chance of another one of these?" he inquires of Anvori. "Maybe a little less light-weight?" Ah, how quickly principles are compromised.
"Well, my name isn't Snug--" Oh, but Carobet's lost his attention as Leova approaches. So, to Milani: "Always a good day with eggs on the sands, right? And such wonderful food!" A hearty chomp on her meat stick reinforces those words of approval. As the greenrider arrives, she's offered a smile, but only once-- chew, chew, munch, munch-- the healer finishes her bite of food.
In the pivot motion and something of that murmured thanks causes a quicksilver smile to flash on Anvori's mouth and he leans in to steal the very tip of that meat piece off in one, clean, very chompy bite. Looking absolutely unrepentant for his actions, he then turns to tally down the drinks needed: you, you, you, and you, but not you; the last one definitely for Carobet. "I'm not actually sure what kind of red is being served. I think it's from the living cavern and not the Snowasis supplies," is the best he can manage for Vaan as well as a guesstimate of, "I've heard anywhere from twelve to twenty. You got me." Unlike K'del, this bartender has no problem with cutting in line. It helps that he can go behind the makeshift counter and put together his own drinks. Ah, to be friends with a bartender is to be plied with quick drinks all night. How he'll manage to juggle all that offer is a mystery that he'll soon have to solve.
For a long moment, Tiriana just eyes Evayne's arm in vaguely befuddled looks. And then, shooting a glance from the girl to the drinks and back, she's taking the proffered arm and setting out toward the line. "Settle... here," the Weyrwoman repeats then. "So you really are? Tell him to go screw himself, you're doing what you want now. You're grown, he can't--what?" The voice of someone else greeting them is noted, and Tiriana glances back over her shoulder to Ulestien, brow furrowing slightly. "Yes?" she asks, looking him over now.
"Not necessarily," Milani notes to Carobet, nodding and giving Leova thumbs up for dancing, then focusing again on the healder. "Sometimes all that egg-laying makes for cranky, so," she makes a little squish-eyed face. "Still, the /party/ is usually good and /yes/ good food, good drink, good company." A'son and his mother arrive and there's a tilting back of Millie's head her gaze going thattaway and she gives her wrap another tug /closer/. Like maybe she shouldn't have worn the hussy dress after all.
Vaan smiles at Whitchek and finishes his wine. " How do they taste Whit? if you find them good I might as well try one." He takes a big bite out of the meat. He sees A'son and gives him a wave. He looks at Anvori " Hey you might getting me one of those vodka drink's?" He looks at the bonfire waiting for it to be lit.
Braced so suavely, Yuliye must reward K'del with a sweet smile. It's in the rules of flirtation somewhere. And then she must tiptoe up to whisper something into his ear, before tiptoing back down to her heels once more - this attempt far more stable. Being grounded allows her to continue to talk shop in her ever-sweet, ever clear voice. "Then we're at an impasse. You believe land not being used is worth nothing. I believe land is worth everything, whether used or not. Land," gleams those hazel eyes prettily beneath her lashes, "Is power. Don't you think so, Weyrleader?"
A'son brings his mother up to the bar, ordering both his and her drink. She gets a glass of wine and he gets... wine? No, it looks more like juice once the glass is examined closely. The bartender gives him a strange look for that. The bronzerider just shrugs and his mother smacks him on the back, in friendly-mom way. Once they're armed with beverages the mother and son team start making their way through the crowds. They stop now and again to talk to friends before they find themselves just near where Milani and company stands.
Poor decapitated meat-piece! Leova aims to give Anvori's nose a finger-tap for his effrontery, en route to getting that skewer back, and then watch out, Whit, because a dazzled greenrider's aiming to lean on him with a far-too-happy sigh. Hopefully it's leaning on his shoulder rather than onto /his/ skewer. Particularly because she even passes that smile back to Carobet for a moment. "That /man/." As though she expects the poor young man to agree.
She's patient -- the arm is just held there through the befuddled look until Tiriana decides to take it, and then Evayne moving towards that line and all is right in the world. She nods agreeably to the 'really are', and looks like she might be about to protest the further words -- but then there's Lest, and Tiriana is pausing, and it /is/ a voice she recognizes, so she draws up too and turns. Oh! "Lest! Hey. We were just going to get drinks," she explains. "Do you know the Weyrwoman, Tiriana? Tiriana, this is Ulestien." Introduction made, just in case the answer is no. She even gives little gestures with her free hand in indication. See, that's Lest, and that's Tiriana. Gesture! And then she's noting aside to Tiriana, "I'm not asking him for permission. Just would rather stay on his good side, so that I can write to him for anything I might need." Light, those words, holding just a little bit of a tease.
Ah, help on the way. Whitchek smiles gratefully after Anvori and polishes off the last of the meat from the skewer. "Not bad," is his opinion. But after that, he's left with an empty glass and plenty of time to chew on his lower lip and WHAT THE HELL IS THAT WOMAN DOING. He at least manages not to move, lest it send Leova toppling. "Um." Pause. "Um. Hi. Yes--um, what about him?" he manages to inquire. "He seems--nice." Well, he brought drinks and didn't try to hurt Whit, so, two for two. Unlike this woman wantonly assaulting his shoulder and/or moral character.
Ulestien glances at Tiriana, offering a very /slight/ smile. Slight, because he's not wanting to draw too much attention to himself from the Weyrwoman. Evayne's cheerfulness has him holding a slight groan in. "We've met." A slow grin and he nods. "I've got my drink, but.. I'll follow." A glance towards the Weyrwoman and he /pointedly/ stays out of her way.
K'del shifts, just slightly, as though in reaction to something that otherwise goes unseen. "If you like," he tells his companion, responding with a curving smile, a cat with a lake full of cream. The drinks arrive, and he takes one in each hand, thanking the bartender with a warm smile. To Yuliye, as he turns about again, he continues, "Land can be power. So can other things. I suspect it's all about perspective."
"I suppose so," Carobet says to Milani. "But so far, this party is-- yes! Wonderful." Perhaps because she's making quick work of that drink in her hand; at each lull in the conversation, a hearty sip is consumed. Leova leaning on Whitchek receives a curious raise of her eyebrows, but it doesn't seem entirely odd since-- oh wow, this wine works fast!
"Far too charming for his own good," /that woman/ agrees, and look, her free hand's winding its way into the crook of Whit's arm. At least her knees aren't showing this time? "Don't you think?" Leova even waves the skewer around a little, before finally, finally taking a bite.
"We... did?" Tiriana says, her forehead furrowing as she eyes Ulestien. He gets another scrutinizing look, then a suspicious, "When?" She lifts one brow slightly, looks to Evayne as though she can interpret for her. A shrug. And at Evayne's own explanation, the goldrider's expression becomes suddenly enlightened. Nodding, she agrees, without lowering her voice so much, "Oh, oh. Right. /Using/ him. I get that."
The drinks are made and it's only /now/ Anvori realizes he just doesn't have enough hands to accomplish this. But there is rental space all up and down his arms to balance and press drinks against his very nice shirt. Watermarks. The sweatdropping is practically visible in the cringe. But what he won't give up in the name of getting good, stable, solid people drunk. His return is slower as he dodges a running child and a flailing bluerider, but he does eventually return looking just slightly harried. "Something strong is tucked under my elbow, don't worry, I took a bath before I came out today." Just in case there was worry of the drinks smelling like armpit. "Vodka lemon-lime is under my wrist, and everything else is pick and choose. There's a pink drink, an orange drink, and a bubbly fizzy one that's more ale-like than champagne."
With a finger hooked at his belt, visible now as she takes a step away, Yuliye beams up at K'del, matching his lake-cream-drowned-cat look with something wholly delighted herself. Seeing as his hands are busy with drinks, the Crom woman ingratiates herself somehow between an arm and the Weyrleader's slide like the floozy she pretends not to be, tucking herself into that crook easily. "Back to our erstwhile Weyrwoman then?"
Milani blinks at the shift in expression on Whitchek's face and shoots a little look Carobet's way, like 'are you seeing this?' but then hey she's nodding agreement about the party. "Yes. All I need now is that drink," she murmurs and there's Anvori and she bites her lip. "Oh /Anvori/" and the headwoman moves to relieve him of a pair of glasses to help hand them out with. It's during that turn that A'son and Altina's arrival nearby is noted and Milani has the sunniest smile on her face. "A'son, Altina, welcome to the party. Oh good, you have drinks!"
"He's a good friend of mine," Evayne points out, looking between Tiriana and Ulestien for a moment before rolling her eyes and shrugging her free shoulder again. "You meet lots of people," she notes, and then she's turning to head towards the drink line, beckoning Lest along with them with her free hand. "C'mon, we need alcohol!" Chirp. Tiriana's understanding of the interaction between herself and her father has her chuckling again, giving an agreeable enough nod. "Something along those lines, at least," she agrees. "He *is* my father. We generally get along fairly well."
Help, thinks Whit, as anybody within about a six mile radius could see. "I wouldn't know," he says to Leova. Like he'd know charm if it hit him in the face, no matter who it was supposed to be coming from. The drink could smell like just about anything by the time Anvori returns and he'd still retrieve it with visible gratitude, if only because that gives him a chance to attempt to un-wind Leova from his arm. "Thanks," he says in strained voice. She could be a lamprey for all the look on his face. He makes swift inroads on it, like somehow it's going to make everything better.
K'del's getting Yuliye, K'del's getting Yu-- that may be premature, but it's certainly something his expression suggests /he's/ hoping for. His crook is all hers, though he hesitates before taking too many steps back in the direction the Weyrwoman /was/ to be found in, a few minutes earlier. "Suppose we must. She'd kill me, probably, if I abandoned her completely, particularly for you. Beer?" /That/ mug is offered in her direction, as, presumably, he deliberates.
"Milani /dear/!" That comes from A'son's mom and not him. She dumps him to go to the headwoman. "You look just amazing! Whoever made this dress for you? Son, you come here and look at her. Doesn't she just look /darling/." The bronzerider smiles, lips pressed close. Oh boy. He follows along behind, sipping from his cup. "Hey, Millie. What's up with him?" A glance is sent Whitchek's way. Soon of course, his mother is giving the young man a look too. "Poor boy! He looks terrified! What is that greenrider doing to him?!"
Ulestien smiles at Tiriana and looks a little relieved as she doesn't remember him. "That one time." He offers towards the Weyrwoman but there aren't any details, just that one time. A glance towards Evayne and he follows along, almost obediently, sadly.
"Ale-like!" Leova sings out, no armpit-drinks for her. That Greenrider is even agreeable about letting Whit move his arm for drinking-purposes, and has another bite of the skewered meat in order to get that much closer to getting that hand free. Hers, not his. To take the glass. "Tell me that /you/ could carry all those drinks without dropping. Or spilling on your shirt. Just try." Not to tempt fate...
The newly dubbed candidate named Betegal wanders toward the bustle of the party along the lake shore. More than anything he seems curious rather than social and he doesn't attempt to actually stop and talk to anyone. Does he look a little pale? Maybe he's still feeling a little shock-y. Or something.
Vaan turns to look at anvori and give him a small clap. Takeing his drink and takes a sip of it. " Thanks anvori nice show of balance. Shows dedication at least." smiles " So does anyone know when the dancing starts?" he looks for a answer and laughs when he sees whitchek looking very unconforable.
Amiably, Yuliye takes the beer mug in between both hands, as if it were some hot cider to warm her hands against. "Don't let her bother you too much." Who'd have thought Crom was capable of appearing to bridge gaps and forge ties between opposing parties? "She's a lot of hot air, not enough actual punch. Now watch," teases the dainty brunette, "We'll get into a fist fight one day and punch me and break my nose. Over you?" Still ladening her words heavily with tease, she liberates one hand from the mug to slide her arm around his waist, comfortable and possessive, as well as to guide him as she decides while he deliberates. Off to Tiriana.
Carobet exchanges looks with Milani, oh yes. And what timing-- just as Anvori arrives with drinks (but not one for her) her own glass is empty. Woe. She inspects its lack of contents, turning it upside down and giving it a sad shake. "Empty," she explains, before heading in the direction the bartender just came from. She can fetch a refill herself; and who knows, maybe whoever's working the bar is cute.
"That's what everyone tells me. Easier for you; she /likes/ you," points out K'del, though, really, with the arm of a pretty girl around his waist, and a beer to share, he doesn't seem too concerned. Even if he is heading back towards the lion's den, now, under her guidance. "Like to see that," he adds. "You and her, throwing punches. Maybe with some mud involved? Come home with me tonight, bet she'd put on a show." Please? But - towards Tiriana they go.
"Mine's a--" But Tiriana doesn't finish that statement, and instead just shakes her head, dismissing it entirely. Much better to round on Ulestien with narrowed eyes, as she does now. "You. You were there today," she announces, finally placing him. "With Milani and that jackass A'son." Part of his official title these days.
Whatever Anvori got for Whitchek is pretty strong, as asked for, and amused the brewer watches the young man down it then shifts his eyes to the greenrider that sings out and reaches forward for a glass of her own. And then to Milani and the older woman suddenly all a flutter about her and the older woman's son just somewhere there. Beset on all sides by pretty women and Whitchek and Vaan, it takes a moment for Carobet's departure and 'empty' explanation to sink in. It takes a moment for him to comment, while looking towards that empty spot, "Never did get her name." But there's a party at hand and Whitchek as the victim of an would-be vampire attack to stand back, sip his drink and laugh at. And possibly to comment to A'son with a wry, "Y'think all the pretty girls are standing with us because we're so pretty, or are we standing with them cause they're so pretty?"
Freedom, beautiful freedom. As soon as Whitchek's unlatched from Leova's evil clutches, he tries to place some distance between them, although without actually being too visible doing it, and without pushing anybody else out of the way, which gives him about three additional inches. It's only then that he realizes he's been scrutinized by this unknown woman, but at least she's not half-naked or trying to touch him, and thankfully he hasn't heard a word she said. He takes to his drink like a man in a desert, and forget anybody laughing at him or just how many girls are in close proximity and/or pretty.
Yuliye's, "No," is really a yes. It says so right in her those lash-fan obscured eyes. Right? Right? Hitting on the Weyrleader is /definitely/ the way to get politics done around here. Despite her denial of his request, her arm about his waist tightens and that dark hair spills over his shoulder as she leans into him all cozy like. Even if she doesn't go home with him tonight, this might get the same sort of show out of Tiriana as they approach her. "Baby T!" regales Crom's niece gaily. "We bring you substances of intoxication."
Her free hand comes up for a moment to cover her face, at Tiriana's words, and she peeks between fingers at first the Weyrwoman and then Ulestien. Evayne chuckles softly and drops her hand back down, offering it out in Lest's direction for him to take. That will at least make it a little easier to keep him at least a /little/ safe. "Today?" She asks of both of them, starting to attempt to shuffle the little group in the direction of the drink line. Moooove. Alcohol. Is. Needed.
Sympathetically to Carobet, "Oh dear, there's --" but the healer's heading off towards the bar and Milani just grins, hands off one of the drinks she relieved Anvori of to someone else and keeps orange for herself. Altina's exclamation widens her eyes a touch and she reaches up to tuck the wrap a little more so you know, her front is just a little less hussy-like. "Thank you," she tells the bronzerider's mother sincerely though. "E'dre, actually, he's quite good with a needle and thread." A look over at Whitchek and she presses her lips together, shrugs. "Just saying hello?" She does catch Anvori's look at the empty spot though and takes a breath, lets it out. "Carobet. Mindhealer."
Anvori is a welcome escape for A'son. A man, his own age. Someone not calling him dear and flashing funny smiles. The bronzerider is at his side almost instantly, drinking from his juice. Something is muttered under his breath about wanting it to be fermented. "I think we're standing with them because they're pretty. Can't imagine anyone standing with me because of my face." He says to the other man. He watches Milani's exchange with his mother and just shakes his head. Oh man.
Altina, A'son's mother? She coos over Milani's pretty dress for another moment or too. "I'm going to have to find him! Maybe he can do some alterations on one of my dresses. I'd like it a bit tighter right around here." Her hands gesture to her bust. "Dear, let that slip down. It's summer." She winks at the headwoman and then departs. Why? Because right then she just /has/ to save that poor Whitchek. She bustles to his side, aiming her hand to tap him on the shoulder. "Look, young man. It's a clutching! Like happy. Plenty of pretty women." /Wink/!
K'del seems to have taken Yuliye's 'no' as a yes; he's drawn his free arm, the one with the hand that was holding on to the beer, about her shoulders lightly, and he looks down at her with amusement, and an unconscious flutter of his own lengthy eyelashes. "-- what she said," he tacks on, after Yuliye's greeting to Tiriana, extending his arm to offer the drink, whatever it is. "There was a line, so it took ages." Nothing to do with the brunette on his arm, oh no.
"Right!" Lest agrees quickly enough to Tiriana, then lifting his brows over at Evayne. "Today, in the galleries." He points out, taking Evayne's hand that she offers. "While the eggs were being clutched. Should see them, wanted to paint some."
Three whole inches. Sometimes they matter. But tonight? "/That/," Leova tells Whit without even bothering to step closer, "Doesn't count as a reply. What did your mother teach you about politeness?" Her glance slides over her shoulder, can't help but find Anvori. Anvori and... her brows tilt up a notch, but that smile escapes for an instant before most of her attention's back, and she has a sip of her drink, even. Skewer and glass in the same hand: it takes coordination, but one hand stays empty. For Altina? "Evening, ma'am." Positively sedate.
"Y(o)u," says Tiriana, her mouth tightening as the Crom diplomat appears, with liquor and her Weyrleader on hand. "I bet it did." And she's giving K'del a glower moreso than Yuliye, but that doesn't stop her from taking the drink and getting herself a long gulp of it. And then she can face the pair, although not without drawing just that much closer to Evayne. "Right," she nods to Ulestien, seconding his explanation. But-- "/Paint/ them? Like, paint on the eggs? Because they're not exactly beautiful or anything, but I still don't think Iovniath would let somebody touch them. Gonna be bad enough letting candidates do egg-touchings, I expect." Grimace.
"Happy," agrees Whitchek. Sure, happy. He can go with happy. The new drink is starting to kick in. "Absolutely." He swallows and looks like he's about to choke on something. "And plenty--right. Sure. ...Who are you, again?" Quick, distract her. But caught by Leova, he can only stammer, "I didn't--I don't--what do you mean, politeness?" He blinks down at the drink as though baffled by how much of it has vanished. Drink thieves, a rising problem. "I just don't know why you're..." And a little bit of a flailing hand that's somehow supposed to indicate the whole grabby business.
Anvori smiles in that indulgent way at Altina, as long as it's from a safe distance and possibly the safest place he could be right now, other than in his room behind a locked door, would be just a step behind A'son. "Your mother, I take it?" A wry grin matches his deduction; it's not so very hard. And then, "Oh, I don't know. I'd say we're both very distinguished looking gentlemen. What girl wouldn't want to be hanging onto our every word and looking up into our grizzled faces?" Laughter hints about his crinkled eyes though doesn't releases from his open-mouthed smile. Whatever drink he was left with, likely the pink thing, is tipped into his mouth and somehow -- /somehow/ -- he manages to pull it off without looking like a girl. From Altina, those hazel eyes skip to Milani and her hussy dress and then shift to the spectacle that is Whitchek, Altina (again), and Leova.
Vaan stands there listening to the converations. He keeps his mouth shut execpt to eat from the meat-stick and to drink. HE looks at the bonfire waiting for the dancing to start he closes his eye's and just listens.
Betegal continues his quiet wandering, listening in on bits of conversation here and there while he takes in the sights, a bit to drink, and eventually starts heading back the same way that he'd come. Apparently the ex-smith is perfectly content to experience the after party in a drive by fashion.
Oh, look. K'del and Yuliye, and Tiriana has her drink now. Hooray! Evayne offers the pair a warm smile, tightening her arm through Tiriana's, accommodating the closeness without complaint. "Hello," she greets, giving K'del a little polite dip of her head. There's a beat, and then she's explaining about the eggs and painting, "I think he means paint a picture of them." A sidelong glance to Lest, even as she's tugging *him* a little closer, squeezing his fingers. "Yes?" Hopeful, that.
Ulestien offers a smile, "on wood. Rather good at carving, not so good with the painting. Or on hides.." He muses then his brows go up at the mention of touching the eggs but he's not saying anything more than that, hiding his surprise, slightly. As Evayne tugs him closer, he moves along easily and returning that squeeze but much more gently. "Yes." He agrees.
"Me," returns Yuliye, her smile absolutely brilliant in the light of Tiriana's tightened mouth. "K'del," oh the desire to pinch his cheeks is just audible in her light, merry voice, "Was just telling me how land isn't power if it's not being used and that there are other, more interesting, sources of power?" Trust Crom to be the one to talk shop and power and all the innuendos in between in the middle of what should be a happy, non-thinking, drunk affair. "Yuliye, I'm sorry Tiriana didn't introduce us yet," says the young woman to the blonde. "Lest, it's so nice to see you again." Not that the appearance of another handsome man makes her move anywhere away from K'del's side. It's too much fun to see Baby T go potentially purple.
In the wake of Altina's bustle to Whitcheck, Milani looks down, gets a quirky little smile and lets that wrap slip. Hey, if you're going to wear a hussy dress, might as well own it, right? Her glass of orange stuff tips up and she takes a sip, rolls it around in her mouth a little, swallows. "Anvori ... what /is/ this?" she asks after a puzzled moment and lifts her glass towards the 'tender.
K'del is innocent! If innocent can be extended to standing as close to Yuliye as he is right now, of course. But he tries, giving Tiriana an apologetic - if somewhat half-hearted - glance that tapers off so that he can turn towards Evayne and Ulestien, instead, and greet them, "Hi there." He /does/ tilt his gaze back fairly quickly towards Yuliye, though, as if her cheek-pinching tone has, slightly belatedly, caused some consternation, but his expression remains mostly lazy. "Yuliye," he notes, then, "believes land is worth more than labour. I imagine that's because she's never worked a day in her life." Amazing, how he can stay that and still look so enamoured as he watches her.
Altina's eyes land on Leova and she looks the greenrider over. "Oh, young lady! You have such a fascinating haircut! Lovely outfit too!" She turns around, waving at her son. "A'son! A'son! Have you met this girl? Isn't she just the picture of loveliness!" A'son is trying very hard to ignore her. Is that wrong? So wrong? "Yes, that's my mother. Is the resemblance that striking or is it just her screaming my name across crowds of people?" Then that mother of is deserting Whitchek and Leova. "Young man! Whisper through the caverns is you're on of your newest candiates!" And she's off. She's moved onto her newest prey: Betegal. "A'son! Meet this young man! Reminds me of you!" Poor, poor, Betegal.
"Oh." Tiriana blinks at this a moment before accepting it. "Well. It wasn't too bad an idea, really," is added a beat later, with a shrug. And another drink. "Are you not capable of introducing yourself? You seem to be doing pretty good on your own," she tells Yuliye, with a glance over the holder. For once, she's even on K'del's side, stepping away from Ulestien and Evayne to claim his other side. "That's probably right," she agrees with him, frostily.
"Politeness," Leova finds the need to repeat to Whitchek after one of her nods-and-smiles to A'son's mother, there. A'son's /mother/. "Answering questions put to you." Whereupon, with her free hand, the greenrider reaches to commandeer Whit's glass with a, "Why I'm, what? And," right after Milani, "What /did/ he put in this, anyway?" Except then she stops without the glass, without his hand holding it, even, and gives the young man a narrow-eyed look quite as though his mind-control powers were working after all.
Betegal looks a little worried when there's attention drawn to him personally. He glances away, perhaps checking for an escape route, and when there isn't one obviously apparent, he smiles politely, and a little uncertainly, to the woman.
Releasing Tiriana's arm when the other woman steps away, Evayne glances sidelong at Lest before reaching to try and take his drink from him so that she can have a drink of it. If he lets her. "It's nice to meet you, Yuliye," she replies easily enough, commenting not at all on the topic of land and power. No way. "I imagine she'd have introduced us if she'd been given the opportunity. I'm Evayne." The words are said lightly, her tone staying warm and friendly, with a little bit of a tease. "This is Ulestien, if you've not met." Gesture.
The claws could come out. They really really could, but this is one battle Yuliye doesn't want to pick, however taunting Tiriana might be fun. After all, isn't that what besties do? So sorry, folks, there'll be no mud-wrestling thrown punches between Tiriana and Yuliye tonight. Pulling away from the cozy tuck of K'del's arm to turn in apology with all the genteel grace of her rank, the dainty brunette leans towards Evayne and Ulestien to balance out the shift in scenic balance Tiriana's move has caused. "It was a pleasure to meet you. And to see you again, Lest." Those hazel eyes linger on Evayne for what she says, the secreted smile blossoming for her words on 'if she had time.' Dubious, but indulgent. "Enjoy yourself at the party," says the not-hostess as if she were the host, before she drifts off with one last pat for the Weyrleader's arm. Drifts off /with/ his beer, mind.
When: Day 2, Month 9, Turn 10
Where: Lakeshore, High Reaches Weyr
What: The celebration of Iovniath and Cadejoth's eggs.
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.
Is it party time yet?! It sure seems so, what with the kitchen staff having set up long banquet tables and mini fires so meat can be roasted on spits all across the rocky shore. The clouds of earlier have dissipated to make for the most perfect barbecuing atmosphere. Meanwhile, handymen work closer to the lake's shore in setting up the tall wooden planks that'll make for the later night's bonfire. "Watch out!" calls out one man when a board threatens to topple and bean someone in the head.
"No, over there," Milani is gesturing about the placement of large ceramic jugs of cool drinks. "Right after the food," she says and props her hands on her hips, the lightweight wrap she wears over her gown fluttering a little in the breeze. "Excellent!" the headwoman says with a bright smile. "That'll work out nicely." And then it's ducking instinctively even though she's not near the planking.
K'del has changed from the clothes he was wearing during the days, into something more dressy, though the sleeves of his shirt have been rolled up to the elbows in deference to the fineness of the weather. He weaves his way through the early arrivals, agreeing enthusiastically with compliments on the clutch, never lingering with one group longer than a few minutes. "Hang on," he tells one group. "Just need to go get myself a drink. No, haven't been on the sands, but I was watching for a bit."
Midst all this Anvori's directing a pair of bartenders who usually work the Snowasis behind a rickety table. His low, furtive words, "Now, we know just how volatile the Weyrwoman," pause to exhale and then look around with mock-furtiveness, "Is. So keep the liquor pouring and make sure everyone's... happy. Pleasant," when paired with that dimpled smile and the half-lid of one eye is likely a tease. But it's a directive the bartenders take to heart as they start mixing drinks at their makeshift stand. Anvori, bossman that he is, takes one of the first two drinks and begins circulating, sipping from one, and keeping the other free for someone else. Anyone else who might be parched.
Tiriana, guest of honor--such as it is, since Iovniath did all the real work and is now sands-bound with her eggs--has cleaned up, too, into a snug little dress; no surprises there. And she makes her way down to the lake, amidst many well-wishes and congratulations, to which she responds perfunctorily at best. Her target, tall as he is, is easily spotted. "Weyrleader." In that tone? It bodes nothing good, although maybe at least the fancy clothes, if not the public party, will keep her from outright violence.
Being precisely on time to a party is probably not fashionable, but there's been rumored to be food somewhere in the vicinity and so Whitchek is most definitely here. Dressed up properly may be beyond his abilities without help, but he's managed clean clothes, and as he crosses the bowl he smoothes his hair back vigorously with both hands. He gives the workers plenty of space, lingering about the edge and hunting for a familiar or, preferably, friendly face of some sort.
K'del's path towards the drinks is, thus, prematurely dead-ended, as Tiriana's use of his title draws his attention away from that target, and towards the Weyrwoman instead. "Weyrwoman," he responds, keeping his own tone neutral, though his brows have raised just slightly. "Cadejoth is positively brimming with pride; it's an excellent clutch. Can I get you a cool drink, something to eat?"
Anvori is certainly not a familiar face, but he is a friendly one -- a friendly one /with/ alcohol. A glass of something clear and slightly pungent appears in front of Whitchek as the amateur brewer comes within his vicinity. Dressed dapper in rich blues and smoky greys, the trim man leans in to the younger man to note, "Saw the dragons bring those in this morning. Would swear some of those beams are longer than a green dragon," with his own drink hand gesturing up and up. "Anvori," he introduces himself, his smile quick, his charming wink even quicker. "And you might be?"
"There are sixteen of them," Tiriana has a different opinion. Obviously. But people really are watching, and so with some measure of propriety, she forces a smile--even if it doesn't change her tone at all, and mostly just exposes half-gritted teeth. "And they are ass-ugly. This is your fault." And just in case that doesn't make it clear, she jabs a finger at his chest, just for a moment. And then, abruptly changing tacks, "I need a big drink."
Milani straightening again, Milani tucks her wrap a little more firmly around herself and tilts a look upward. "Big as dragons but more dangerous?" she quips Anvori's way and tilts a look around at Whitchek. "At least if they drop one," she elaborates with a hint of humor playing around her mouth.
Vaan is wearing a fresh set of clothes and his hair damp from a bath. He walks up to the makeshift bar he askes for some wine. He take's the one passed to him and mutter's a thanks. He turns to look to see who's all here he sees whitchek as the most familier face. He walks up to Whitchek " Hey, how are you doing whitchek?" he turns and looks at the otehr man talking to Whitchek and offers a hand. " Nice to meet you I'm Vaan."
"Which is one more than there was in my clutch," points out K'del, apparently not seeing the problem here. "Sixteen seems like a decent enough number to me. As for being ugly... /I/ don't think so. Some of them are downright pretty." Some of them. He doesn't - perhaps wisely - respond to the accusation, though his gaze drops to her finger dubiously. "I'm sure they'll hatch just fine. What kind of drink do you want? I'll find you one. Unity, right? It's our big day." Please?
Friendly is better than most of the familiarity Whitchek could hope for at this point, and he takes the offered drink from Anvori with great alacrity. Then he peers at it. "Whitchek," he says to Anvori, and then hearing his name uttered, "Vaan, hey. Doing good, you know." He lifts the drink up and eyes it with skepticism. "What is it?" And then he drinks anyway, evidently having missed any parental cautions about taking drinks from strange men.
"Yeah, but your clutch had an idiot Istan for a sire," Tiriana points out. "Which may be the only thing worse than you." Nothing like Weyr solidarity. Or xenophobia, whichever. "I want a strong one. Whatever. I don't care, just give me /some/thing before I kill one of these--people." And that would be diplomacy in action, that that's all she says about them. At any rate, she's shaking her head as she glances over the growing party, adds, "They're still ugly. I keep having to tell her that just means they'll be extra beautiful on the inside. That's what they say, right? Ugly people are pretty on the inside."
"Hey, red. Doing ok?" Anvori is far from strange. See, even the innocuous Headwoman is making quips at him, so he must be harmless (enough). Then again, Milani's known to hang around some volatile men herself so... Either way, with one hand now free of the glass, it shoves into his pocket and he rocks an easy sway on the balls of his feet. The growing bonfire gains a very high chin-lifted, curious appraisal. Mused aloud, "I'm not sure how they get them to stand like that. Hmmm- mmm?" Distracted by his thoughts, a belated glance down takes in the contents of Whitchek's glass and then Vaan suddenly so nearby. First, "Anvori. Pleased to meet you." Second, "Vodka and a lemon-lime bubbly. It'll ease you into the party."
K'del seems determined not to let Tiriana's mood spoil his day; he smiles placidly, merely noting, "And beautiful people are ugly on the inside, right." Is that aimed at her? If it is, he's not showing it in his tone, or his expression. "One strong drink, coming up. Go mingle - and be /nice/ - until I come back, all right?"
"It's been a pretty decent day, yes, thanks Anvori. You?" Milani inquires back. "And glad things sound like they're going well with you Whitchek," the headwoman says to the younger man with another smile. "Isn't that a little strong for a starter?" she asks laughingly of the barman, though she too is observing the construction of the bonfire. "You know ...I have no idea either."
Yuliye, master of timing, selects the precise moment K'del drifts away from Tiriana to fall in step with him, to try and slide her arm around his elbow. Dressed in a summery baby pink outfit /just/ out of season, if not for the thick white shawl over her shoulders, the Crom woman might make it her evening's effort to make sure the Weyrleader doesn't 'come back all right.' "So," starts that bright voice filled with rainbow charm, "Should I worry that I haven't heard a thing from you of late, Weyrleader K'del, sir?"
Hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket, Evayne plods on down towards the lake and the grouping of people and the /fire/, yay. The young woman's already meandering pace slows further as she gets in the general area, eyes jumping from here to there to over /there/ as she takes everything in.
Vaan laughs " Nice to met you Anvori I see you know your drink's." He grins at Whitchek " It's good to hear that." Looking at Anvori " I think they stay up by leaning on each other." Trying to look smart " So how many egg's were clutched?" he askes to no one hopeing someone has a answer.
"Because we can be and people still want us." Tiriana clearly takes it as aimed at her, but rather than tick her off more, it actually makes her smirk again. "I /am/ being nice. I don't need the baby to babysit me," she insists, with a sniff. But with her Weyrleader sent to fetch her drink, she does as asked anyway, making nice with various people for the time. But it's hard to miss that dark head that latches onto K'del as soon as he's away, and Tiriana shoots a narrow-eyed look at the back of Yuliye.
"Dunno, never tried it myself." Whitchek regards the bonfire preparation activities thoughtfully. "Never saw any need for a fire that big, though." He seems to be making pretty quick headway on the vodka-and-whatever. "Better than they were for awhile," he assures Milani. Eyes the glass. "This isn't bad. Not bad at all. Doesn't taste that strong at all."
Eyeing the bonfire's construction from a discreet distance, a /safe/ distance, only lasts so long. Leova leans on her wingmate's shoulder, the better to rise onto her toes and look about, and then abandons the man with a whispered comment in favor of making her way towards where tall Milani's bright hair serves as a beacon. Not in such a hurry as all that, it's easy enough to nod-and-smile at passersby.
K'del's gaze flickers, as though he's just managing to avoid rolling his eyes at Tiriana, but he keeps his expression, otherwise, more or less even as he tips his head towards her, and turns to move away. His smile? Well, it's not /completely/ fake, surely. Yuliye's arm tilts his head up, though he allows the manoeuvre to proceed, brows lifting briefly as he considers the dark-haired girl. Maybe the fact that he draws her arm in so that they can walk together arm-in-arm is unrelated to Tiriana. Maybe not. "Do you think that you should, Yuliye? What should I have been contacting you for, mm?"
"It's /vodka/, it's not supposed to taste strong. That's how it gets you," Millie says with a laugh and a playfully suspicious look Anvori's way. Fingers lace behind her back and toy with the edges of her wrap where it dangles over the back of her much-too-light-really-for-the-weather dress. "It's always fun when they set that first bit alight. You know, flames start running up the wood," she notes about the bonfire-in-progress.
"Right?" He does know his liquor and an easy smile is spared for Vaan for his flattery. "It's not very strong, there's more of the bubbly than there is alcohol and it'll relax you right up in time for the dancing later." A lean hand comes to pat Whitchek reassuringly on the shoulder, all amiable and older brotherly, never mind Anvori's the shortest guy at the lake it would seem. "Did you want a drink as well, red? Vaan?"
Yuliye has a sunny, 'oh /you/,' laugh, long practiced and perfected for K'del's return question. She might even punch him in the shoulders in that girlish-I'm-so-cute-but-really-no way, except that her fingers are steadily climbing to make that hand-arm tuck all the more intimate. "How are you two getting along?" Hazel eyes can't help but glance over her shoulders, to try and find a familiar sulking face and perhaps flash a teasing little smile the Weyrwoman's way. "How've your first months as Weyrleader been?"
Dancing. Whitchek takes a long swig with that word. "Good, good. Try to avoid too much of the strong stuff. One thing to relax... well, you know." Another drink. He's just trying to relax slightly more quickly, that's all. At Anvori's friendly gesture, he starts to lean away--then stops, because that's silly. It's friendly. All friendly. Nothing to be skittish about. "What time will they do that?" he inquires of Milani, who has so far established herself as safe and usually clueful.
Carobet makes her way through the crowd, weaving her way through the clusters of people here and there and seeming very concerned with the welfare of her drink. Both her eyes are on an over-full cup she holds in one hand, which is quite nearly spilled several times as she is bumped and jostled in attempts to reach the bonfire. But finally! She's finally spotted face that she recognizes, Milani and-- "Rebel."
Vaan laughs " I bet it is a sight to see a bonfire of this size." Raising his glass of wine. " No thanks I got my wine for now." He smiles kindly and takes a sip of his wine. Looking at whitchek and gives a small laugh " I didn't think of whitchek being a dancer." He looks at the bonfire being built. " I hope there's dancing." He smiles " I am a half decent dancer if I'm not drunk."
Tiriana catches that glance backward from Yuliye, and then she turns away, moving away from her designated waiting spot out into the crowd. Mingling, right. The mingling works for a few minutes, and then Tiriana is seeking out the first familiar, tolerable (this cuts the list down significantly) person she sees. In this case, it's Evayne. "Hi. Quick, make like we're having some big important all-attention-consuming conversation," says the Weyrwoman.
"If you don't mind hooking me up," Milani tells Anvori with a little sidelong smile and then a nod past towards Whitchek. "As soon as they finish setting it up," the headwoman provides an answer about the bonfire. "Need to you know, cook stuff," she waves towards where some of the food is. "Better stay sober then," is quipped Vaan-wards next. Carobet's approach and the call of 'rebel', earns lifted brows and curiosity from the headwoman. "Carobet, hey there!" is her merry greeting nonetheless.
K'del is hardly likely to object to the increasingly intimate contact Yuliye has initiated - not given who, and perhaps /what/ she is. "She hates my guts, but you're well aware of that already," he tells her, not without a laugh, the kind designed to indicate 'not, of course, that I care in the least, the silly girl'. He doesn't glance back, doesn't so much as consider Tiriana, though he guides them clearly towards the drinks, where he takes a position in the waiting line of people - no cutting to the front, here. "Busy," he reports. "But not too bad, as these things go. Things are settling down."
Meander, start to head in the vague direction of the drinks, and then...Weyrwoman. Important conversation. Evayne looks briefly surprised, and then she's putting on an easy grin and turning her head just so, focusing all apparent attention on Tiriana. "Well, that's easy to do," she points out. She keeps her voice reasonably hushed, and aside from that grin of hers, she does quite well at putting on the requested body language. "Are you enjoying yourself, this evening? I mean, as much as is possible?"
Right about to bump into Evayne herself, Leova flashes the younger woman a smile and ducks right on past as Tiriana steps up. Off toward the Milani-beacon! It takes a little while to get there, some sidling, some outright sidestepping, and a step on her freshly polished boots. And /then/... it's /still/ a matter of room.
Little skewers of meat sliced off the larger spit-fire hulks are starting to make their rounds on the plates of drudges and from one that passes, Anvori masterfully plucks off a whole handful, then turns to hold them out in a fan to the little cluster of people about him. "One drink coming up for my lovely red. And-," Rebel turns to find Snugglebunny, the sight of whom evokes a low-toned chuckle. "Anvori. Call me Anvori. And-," he starts, then stops with a merry shake of his head for the drink she already carries, "You don't need a drink yet it seems."
Once in line, Yuliye takes a small step back, her arm dropping, though not entirely drifting her hand away from K'del's. Instead, the thin fingers play idly at his wrist, making patterns blind, as she keeps her light eyes up upon the Weyrleader. "If you have time then, and you've thought about it. Want to make a trip with me?" Divide and conquer; and of the two, Tiriana and K'del, the man is always the easier to wrap around charming girls' pinkies, right? "I'd like to show you the land my uncle had in mind to...," a pause purses her lips prettily into the bows of a maybe kiss, or just a better word for, "Loan," that she ultimately fails at coming up with. "To loan the Weyr."
"No," Whitchek quickly agrees with Vaan. "Not especially. Oh! Food." His free hand--the one not holding the rapidly dwindling drink--goes for one of the skewers. "Thanks. I'm just about famished. Leova!" The drink practically gets hidden behind his back when he spots her, moving a bit to the side to create some space. "How very nice to see you here." Drinking? Not Whit. Of course not.
Tiriana is not nearly so good at passing off an intent conversation as Evayne is: she keeps glancing about the rest of the party, nodding and offering an almost-smile to the people that continue to greet her in passing. But she looks back to Evayne after a moment, grimaces. "I have been on the sands since sunrise, trying to reassure my dragon that no, her eggs aren't really that ugly-looking and it's not her fault even if they are. That's how I am." Just thinking about it now makes her rub her temple just for a moment. But, with a modicum of politeness, "How are you?"
Carobet smiles brightly back to Milani, acting as if she hadn't noticed the raise of eyebrows from the headwoman. "Millie! How are you?" Finally she sips at her drink carefully, holding the cup level with her mouth, in order to get the liquid to just under the too-full point. She feigns mock-indignation at the revelation of Anvori's name. "You /lied/ to me? And here I thought you were a gentleman." A more comfortable sip from her glass, and, "No, I'm quite fine with this one, thank you." But she'll take a skewer, yum.
Out comes Lest! Idly wandering out towards the lake, he's quiet too. A thoughtful smile on his face and then spotting the others there, the man is stuck looking between them all and deciding a path. But, he doesn't turn to find anyone in particular, not yet as he's going to get something to drink.
Vaan smiles at milani " I won't get drunk yet at least not sipping wine." he grins " But after I have finished dancing I might move to a stronger drink." grinning still " So how many egg's are there on the sands?" he see Whit head for food " Hey save some for me." He turns and grabs a skewer. He takes a bite of the meat and then sips his wine. Looking at Anvori " what kind of wine are you serveing it's pretty good."
K'del turns his head, as Yuliye draws her arm away, gaze lingering for a moment on her thin fingers at his wrist, then rising back towards her ch-- face. Her /face/. "The land," he repeats, not stupidly, but thoughtfully, as though he's considering the idea all over again. "Reckon I could spare the time to take that trip, certainly. Should I be drawing out our loyal high reaches farmcrafters, or should that wait for another trip, if all goes well?" The line moves forward; as it does, he adds, "Tiriana's not keen on the whole venture. Doesn't trust your uncle one bit."
There's another bright smile flashed Leova-wards as the other woman passes, and then Evayne is refocusing on Tiriana again, wrinkling up her nose and even giving a little shudder to go along with it -- they're playfully emphasized, but...well, given the wince, perhaps some of the horror is genuine. "That's..." Pause. "I'm sorry." And there is definitely sympathy wound through her tone, found in that little wry smile she offers. "I'm doing well enough, all told. Waiting to hear from my father, but...well, I'm sure he'll get back to me eventually. He's never been the best at letters. Do you need something more to drink?" Little bit of concern there, oh yes.
"But aren't you Weyrleader?" It's such a simple question, backed by those big, trusting hazel eyes. Yuliye's fingers drop in a loose circle of her thumb and finger around his wrist. They move up a little in that line. Someone offer's K'del the courtesy of a cut. He is the Weyrleader after all, as Yuliye's reminded the entire line in her very clear, very carefully pitched voice.
"It's a good day, Carobet," Milani says with a smile for the healer. "Thanks Anvori," she says sweetly as he heads for drink-land. And hey, there's a Leova and Millie waves energetically towards her friend. "Hey Leova! Dancing soon."
K'del shakes his head quickly: no, no need to let them go in front. He can wait, like the rest of them. But the line is, at least, moving pretty quickly. "Of course I am," he tells Yuliye, keeping his tone even. "Prefer to do things with the support of my Weyrwoman, but if it doesn't work out that way - so be it. Haven't said I /won't/ agree, just because she's dubious. /I'm/ interested. On my terms, though."
"I lied," confirms Anvori to Carobet, the lone skewer left in his hand the flourish to his waist-bent bow. But it only half-completes as several people in their cluster notice Leova's approach and rising slowly from his bend, a glance casts over his shoulders to find the approaching greenrider. An unbidden smile hooks crookedly across his lips and should she come near enough, that singular, untouched meat-on-a-stick is extended with all the gravity usually imbued on the offer of a single-stemmed rose. His own tenor adds to the chorus, late, "Leova."
"Supposedly," and Tiriana emphasizes that look, with another glance back for K'del and Yuliye on his arm. "Supposedly, my Weyrleader is getting me something, but I think my best friend is too busy whoring it up on him for him to actually remember /me/." How miffed she sounds about that! Reluctantly, she admits, "Should probably eat something, but ugh. Food. Too /hot/. --What're you waiting on your daddy for?"
There's a look sent back in the direction Tiriana glances -- K'del and Yuliye identified fairly swiftly -- and then Evayne's attention is jumping right back, and she's even offering the woman *her* arm. "Well, let's go get ourselves something, then," she suggests. "And we can find something cool to eat too, I bet. Maybe some fruit or something that doesn't really feel like eating." There's a quick little nosewrinkle at the reference to her 'daddy', but even so she chuckles quietly, shrugging her outside shoulder. "Seeing if there's anything further he needs me to do before I settle."
Yuliye studies this exchange, intrigued, and accords her own gracious smile of thanks-but-no-thanks seconds after K'del shakes his head. /She/ wouldn't mind cutting, but when in Reaches... Speaking of Tirana, she tiptoes on her, likely uncomfortable, little heels to find the goldrider in question and when she fails drops onto the back of her shoes a little unstable forcing her to have to reach out to brace herself against K'del's arm. "Sorry," is her low, low, low apology, "But I'm not sure fifty-fifty will be Lord Crom's terms. Land, after all, is worth more than what's grown on it, no?"
Ulestien has his drink and then is looking around, Yuliye is spotted but then he's weaving over towards Evayne easily even though she's near Tiriana. Anyone else near is given a nod, "hey Eva." He greets, but is standing behind so not to attract too much attention.
Hailed, Leova gives Whit a suddenly grateful look to go with his skewer and the drink-he's-officially-not-drinking, and for that, the greenrider doesn't even angle to see what he might have so-swiftly stashed before she sidesteps into the offered space. "You too. Talk about a /crush/. Especially..." Her glance doesn't have to roam far to find the bartender, his drinks, and then Anvori all over again for a long, laughing moment. "Ah! Now I know why." It takes a moment to switch tracks to MIllie's greeting, and then, "... Dancing. Thanks for the warning." And /then/... then the skewer's presented thus, and her smile deepens, laughter in her eyes. She'll reach out to let the stick's barely exposed tip rest on her fingers, let it balance between them for a moment, and then pivot it up and over into her free hand with quick-murmured thanks.
Leova whispers "If you weren't on duty? I'd share."
A'son arrives to the party, fashionably late. Tonight he has a lovely lady on his arm. Her hair is finely done, swept up. She has on her best dress and she's just much too pretty to be there with him, by any standards. Plus, she looks like she actually likes him. But then it should also be noted that she's passing well on into her late sixties and that she keeps calling him, "Dear" as he escorts her. "So nice of you, dear. Certainly makes up for the other day. What a nice son I have." Aw, how cute. He brought his mom.
K'del's arm, conveniently, is nice and steady, and look, he even half turns to reach out his other arm, just in case the first alone is not sufficient. Can't have a lady fall on her face, after all. He /still/ doesn't look back at Tiriana, though, now that they've reached the front of the line, he does in fact order, cheerfully, "Something nice and strong for the Weyrwoman, a beer for me, and -- Yuliye? Something for you?" It's in a lower tone, though still quite calm, that he adds, "But land that isn't being used is worth almost nothing at all, surely, in real terms."
There's a great deal of friendliness in the air now and Whitchek seems to be getting progressively more uncomfortable with all of it. Maybe the talk of dancing has something to do with it. "Does seem... busy," he agrees with Leova. Since her's attention seems too scattered for the chance of disapproval--although why she'd disapprove is a question--the first drink quickly becomes history. "Any chance of another one of these?" he inquires of Anvori. "Maybe a little less light-weight?" Ah, how quickly principles are compromised.
"Well, my name isn't Snug--" Oh, but Carobet's lost his attention as Leova approaches. So, to Milani: "Always a good day with eggs on the sands, right? And such wonderful food!" A hearty chomp on her meat stick reinforces those words of approval. As the greenrider arrives, she's offered a smile, but only once-- chew, chew, munch, munch-- the healer finishes her bite of food.
In the pivot motion and something of that murmured thanks causes a quicksilver smile to flash on Anvori's mouth and he leans in to steal the very tip of that meat piece off in one, clean, very chompy bite. Looking absolutely unrepentant for his actions, he then turns to tally down the drinks needed: you, you, you, and you, but not you; the last one definitely for Carobet. "I'm not actually sure what kind of red is being served. I think it's from the living cavern and not the Snowasis supplies," is the best he can manage for Vaan as well as a guesstimate of, "I've heard anywhere from twelve to twenty. You got me." Unlike K'del, this bartender has no problem with cutting in line. It helps that he can go behind the makeshift counter and put together his own drinks. Ah, to be friends with a bartender is to be plied with quick drinks all night. How he'll manage to juggle all that offer is a mystery that he'll soon have to solve.
For a long moment, Tiriana just eyes Evayne's arm in vaguely befuddled looks. And then, shooting a glance from the girl to the drinks and back, she's taking the proffered arm and setting out toward the line. "Settle... here," the Weyrwoman repeats then. "So you really are? Tell him to go screw himself, you're doing what you want now. You're grown, he can't--what?" The voice of someone else greeting them is noted, and Tiriana glances back over her shoulder to Ulestien, brow furrowing slightly. "Yes?" she asks, looking him over now.
"Not necessarily," Milani notes to Carobet, nodding and giving Leova thumbs up for dancing, then focusing again on the healder. "Sometimes all that egg-laying makes for cranky, so," she makes a little squish-eyed face. "Still, the /party/ is usually good and /yes/ good food, good drink, good company." A'son and his mother arrive and there's a tilting back of Millie's head her gaze going thattaway and she gives her wrap another tug /closer/. Like maybe she shouldn't have worn the hussy dress after all.
Vaan smiles at Whitchek and finishes his wine. " How do they taste Whit? if you find them good I might as well try one." He takes a big bite out of the meat. He sees A'son and gives him a wave. He looks at Anvori " Hey you might getting me one of those vodka drink's?" He looks at the bonfire waiting for it to be lit.
Braced so suavely, Yuliye must reward K'del with a sweet smile. It's in the rules of flirtation somewhere. And then she must tiptoe up to whisper something into his ear, before tiptoing back down to her heels once more - this attempt far more stable. Being grounded allows her to continue to talk shop in her ever-sweet, ever clear voice. "Then we're at an impasse. You believe land not being used is worth nothing. I believe land is worth everything, whether used or not. Land," gleams those hazel eyes prettily beneath her lashes, "Is power. Don't you think so, Weyrleader?"
A'son brings his mother up to the bar, ordering both his and her drink. She gets a glass of wine and he gets... wine? No, it looks more like juice once the glass is examined closely. The bartender gives him a strange look for that. The bronzerider just shrugs and his mother smacks him on the back, in friendly-mom way. Once they're armed with beverages the mother and son team start making their way through the crowds. They stop now and again to talk to friends before they find themselves just near where Milani and company stands.
Poor decapitated meat-piece! Leova aims to give Anvori's nose a finger-tap for his effrontery, en route to getting that skewer back, and then watch out, Whit, because a dazzled greenrider's aiming to lean on him with a far-too-happy sigh. Hopefully it's leaning on his shoulder rather than onto /his/ skewer. Particularly because she even passes that smile back to Carobet for a moment. "That /man/." As though she expects the poor young man to agree.
She's patient -- the arm is just held there through the befuddled look until Tiriana decides to take it, and then Evayne moving towards that line and all is right in the world. She nods agreeably to the 'really are', and looks like she might be about to protest the further words -- but then there's Lest, and Tiriana is pausing, and it /is/ a voice she recognizes, so she draws up too and turns. Oh! "Lest! Hey. We were just going to get drinks," she explains. "Do you know the Weyrwoman, Tiriana? Tiriana, this is Ulestien." Introduction made, just in case the answer is no. She even gives little gestures with her free hand in indication. See, that's Lest, and that's Tiriana. Gesture! And then she's noting aside to Tiriana, "I'm not asking him for permission. Just would rather stay on his good side, so that I can write to him for anything I might need." Light, those words, holding just a little bit of a tease.
Ah, help on the way. Whitchek smiles gratefully after Anvori and polishes off the last of the meat from the skewer. "Not bad," is his opinion. But after that, he's left with an empty glass and plenty of time to chew on his lower lip and WHAT THE HELL IS THAT WOMAN DOING. He at least manages not to move, lest it send Leova toppling. "Um." Pause. "Um. Hi. Yes--um, what about him?" he manages to inquire. "He seems--nice." Well, he brought drinks and didn't try to hurt Whit, so, two for two. Unlike this woman wantonly assaulting his shoulder and/or moral character.
Ulestien glances at Tiriana, offering a very /slight/ smile. Slight, because he's not wanting to draw too much attention to himself from the Weyrwoman. Evayne's cheerfulness has him holding a slight groan in. "We've met." A slow grin and he nods. "I've got my drink, but.. I'll follow." A glance towards the Weyrwoman and he /pointedly/ stays out of her way.
K'del shifts, just slightly, as though in reaction to something that otherwise goes unseen. "If you like," he tells his companion, responding with a curving smile, a cat with a lake full of cream. The drinks arrive, and he takes one in each hand, thanking the bartender with a warm smile. To Yuliye, as he turns about again, he continues, "Land can be power. So can other things. I suspect it's all about perspective."
"I suppose so," Carobet says to Milani. "But so far, this party is-- yes! Wonderful." Perhaps because she's making quick work of that drink in her hand; at each lull in the conversation, a hearty sip is consumed. Leova leaning on Whitchek receives a curious raise of her eyebrows, but it doesn't seem entirely odd since-- oh wow, this wine works fast!
"Far too charming for his own good," /that woman/ agrees, and look, her free hand's winding its way into the crook of Whit's arm. At least her knees aren't showing this time? "Don't you think?" Leova even waves the skewer around a little, before finally, finally taking a bite.
"We... did?" Tiriana says, her forehead furrowing as she eyes Ulestien. He gets another scrutinizing look, then a suspicious, "When?" She lifts one brow slightly, looks to Evayne as though she can interpret for her. A shrug. And at Evayne's own explanation, the goldrider's expression becomes suddenly enlightened. Nodding, she agrees, without lowering her voice so much, "Oh, oh. Right. /Using/ him. I get that."
The drinks are made and it's only /now/ Anvori realizes he just doesn't have enough hands to accomplish this. But there is rental space all up and down his arms to balance and press drinks against his very nice shirt. Watermarks. The sweatdropping is practically visible in the cringe. But what he won't give up in the name of getting good, stable, solid people drunk. His return is slower as he dodges a running child and a flailing bluerider, but he does eventually return looking just slightly harried. "Something strong is tucked under my elbow, don't worry, I took a bath before I came out today." Just in case there was worry of the drinks smelling like armpit. "Vodka lemon-lime is under my wrist, and everything else is pick and choose. There's a pink drink, an orange drink, and a bubbly fizzy one that's more ale-like than champagne."
With a finger hooked at his belt, visible now as she takes a step away, Yuliye beams up at K'del, matching his lake-cream-drowned-cat look with something wholly delighted herself. Seeing as his hands are busy with drinks, the Crom woman ingratiates herself somehow between an arm and the Weyrleader's slide like the floozy she pretends not to be, tucking herself into that crook easily. "Back to our erstwhile Weyrwoman then?"
Milani blinks at the shift in expression on Whitchek's face and shoots a little look Carobet's way, like 'are you seeing this?' but then hey she's nodding agreement about the party. "Yes. All I need now is that drink," she murmurs and there's Anvori and she bites her lip. "Oh /Anvori/" and the headwoman moves to relieve him of a pair of glasses to help hand them out with. It's during that turn that A'son and Altina's arrival nearby is noted and Milani has the sunniest smile on her face. "A'son, Altina, welcome to the party. Oh good, you have drinks!"
"He's a good friend of mine," Evayne points out, looking between Tiriana and Ulestien for a moment before rolling her eyes and shrugging her free shoulder again. "You meet lots of people," she notes, and then she's turning to head towards the drink line, beckoning Lest along with them with her free hand. "C'mon, we need alcohol!" Chirp. Tiriana's understanding of the interaction between herself and her father has her chuckling again, giving an agreeable enough nod. "Something along those lines, at least," she agrees. "He *is* my father. We generally get along fairly well."
Help, thinks Whit, as anybody within about a six mile radius could see. "I wouldn't know," he says to Leova. Like he'd know charm if it hit him in the face, no matter who it was supposed to be coming from. The drink could smell like just about anything by the time Anvori returns and he'd still retrieve it with visible gratitude, if only because that gives him a chance to attempt to un-wind Leova from his arm. "Thanks," he says in strained voice. She could be a lamprey for all the look on his face. He makes swift inroads on it, like somehow it's going to make everything better.
K'del's getting Yuliye, K'del's getting Yu-- that may be premature, but it's certainly something his expression suggests /he's/ hoping for. His crook is all hers, though he hesitates before taking too many steps back in the direction the Weyrwoman /was/ to be found in, a few minutes earlier. "Suppose we must. She'd kill me, probably, if I abandoned her completely, particularly for you. Beer?" /That/ mug is offered in her direction, as, presumably, he deliberates.
"Milani /dear/!" That comes from A'son's mom and not him. She dumps him to go to the headwoman. "You look just amazing! Whoever made this dress for you? Son, you come here and look at her. Doesn't she just look /darling/." The bronzerider smiles, lips pressed close. Oh boy. He follows along behind, sipping from his cup. "Hey, Millie. What's up with him?" A glance is sent Whitchek's way. Soon of course, his mother is giving the young man a look too. "Poor boy! He looks terrified! What is that greenrider doing to him?!"
Ulestien smiles at Tiriana and looks a little relieved as she doesn't remember him. "That one time." He offers towards the Weyrwoman but there aren't any details, just that one time. A glance towards Evayne and he follows along, almost obediently, sadly.
"Ale-like!" Leova sings out, no armpit-drinks for her. That Greenrider is even agreeable about letting Whit move his arm for drinking-purposes, and has another bite of the skewered meat in order to get that much closer to getting that hand free. Hers, not his. To take the glass. "Tell me that /you/ could carry all those drinks without dropping. Or spilling on your shirt. Just try." Not to tempt fate...
The newly dubbed candidate named Betegal wanders toward the bustle of the party along the lake shore. More than anything he seems curious rather than social and he doesn't attempt to actually stop and talk to anyone. Does he look a little pale? Maybe he's still feeling a little shock-y. Or something.
Vaan turns to look at anvori and give him a small clap. Takeing his drink and takes a sip of it. " Thanks anvori nice show of balance. Shows dedication at least." smiles " So does anyone know when the dancing starts?" he looks for a answer and laughs when he sees whitchek looking very unconforable.
Amiably, Yuliye takes the beer mug in between both hands, as if it were some hot cider to warm her hands against. "Don't let her bother you too much." Who'd have thought Crom was capable of appearing to bridge gaps and forge ties between opposing parties? "She's a lot of hot air, not enough actual punch. Now watch," teases the dainty brunette, "We'll get into a fist fight one day and punch me and break my nose. Over you?" Still ladening her words heavily with tease, she liberates one hand from the mug to slide her arm around his waist, comfortable and possessive, as well as to guide him as she decides while he deliberates. Off to Tiriana.
Carobet exchanges looks with Milani, oh yes. And what timing-- just as Anvori arrives with drinks (but not one for her) her own glass is empty. Woe. She inspects its lack of contents, turning it upside down and giving it a sad shake. "Empty," she explains, before heading in the direction the bartender just came from. She can fetch a refill herself; and who knows, maybe whoever's working the bar is cute.
"That's what everyone tells me. Easier for you; she /likes/ you," points out K'del, though, really, with the arm of a pretty girl around his waist, and a beer to share, he doesn't seem too concerned. Even if he is heading back towards the lion's den, now, under her guidance. "Like to see that," he adds. "You and her, throwing punches. Maybe with some mud involved? Come home with me tonight, bet she'd put on a show." Please? But - towards Tiriana they go.
"Mine's a--" But Tiriana doesn't finish that statement, and instead just shakes her head, dismissing it entirely. Much better to round on Ulestien with narrowed eyes, as she does now. "You. You were there today," she announces, finally placing him. "With Milani and that jackass A'son." Part of his official title these days.
Whatever Anvori got for Whitchek is pretty strong, as asked for, and amused the brewer watches the young man down it then shifts his eyes to the greenrider that sings out and reaches forward for a glass of her own. And then to Milani and the older woman suddenly all a flutter about her and the older woman's son just somewhere there. Beset on all sides by pretty women and Whitchek and Vaan, it takes a moment for Carobet's departure and 'empty' explanation to sink in. It takes a moment for him to comment, while looking towards that empty spot, "Never did get her name." But there's a party at hand and Whitchek as the victim of an would-be vampire attack to stand back, sip his drink and laugh at. And possibly to comment to A'son with a wry, "Y'think all the pretty girls are standing with us because we're so pretty, or are we standing with them cause they're so pretty?"
Freedom, beautiful freedom. As soon as Whitchek's unlatched from Leova's evil clutches, he tries to place some distance between them, although without actually being too visible doing it, and without pushing anybody else out of the way, which gives him about three additional inches. It's only then that he realizes he's been scrutinized by this unknown woman, but at least she's not half-naked or trying to touch him, and thankfully he hasn't heard a word she said. He takes to his drink like a man in a desert, and forget anybody laughing at him or just how many girls are in close proximity and/or pretty.
Yuliye's, "No," is really a yes. It says so right in her those lash-fan obscured eyes. Right? Right? Hitting on the Weyrleader is /definitely/ the way to get politics done around here. Despite her denial of his request, her arm about his waist tightens and that dark hair spills over his shoulder as she leans into him all cozy like. Even if she doesn't go home with him tonight, this might get the same sort of show out of Tiriana as they approach her. "Baby T!" regales Crom's niece gaily. "We bring you substances of intoxication."
Her free hand comes up for a moment to cover her face, at Tiriana's words, and she peeks between fingers at first the Weyrwoman and then Ulestien. Evayne chuckles softly and drops her hand back down, offering it out in Lest's direction for him to take. That will at least make it a little easier to keep him at least a /little/ safe. "Today?" She asks of both of them, starting to attempt to shuffle the little group in the direction of the drink line. Moooove. Alcohol. Is. Needed.
Sympathetically to Carobet, "Oh dear, there's --" but the healer's heading off towards the bar and Milani just grins, hands off one of the drinks she relieved Anvori of to someone else and keeps orange for herself. Altina's exclamation widens her eyes a touch and she reaches up to tuck the wrap a little more so you know, her front is just a little less hussy-like. "Thank you," she tells the bronzerider's mother sincerely though. "E'dre, actually, he's quite good with a needle and thread." A look over at Whitchek and she presses her lips together, shrugs. "Just saying hello?" She does catch Anvori's look at the empty spot though and takes a breath, lets it out. "Carobet. Mindhealer."
Anvori is a welcome escape for A'son. A man, his own age. Someone not calling him dear and flashing funny smiles. The bronzerider is at his side almost instantly, drinking from his juice. Something is muttered under his breath about wanting it to be fermented. "I think we're standing with them because they're pretty. Can't imagine anyone standing with me because of my face." He says to the other man. He watches Milani's exchange with his mother and just shakes his head. Oh man.
Altina, A'son's mother? She coos over Milani's pretty dress for another moment or too. "I'm going to have to find him! Maybe he can do some alterations on one of my dresses. I'd like it a bit tighter right around here." Her hands gesture to her bust. "Dear, let that slip down. It's summer." She winks at the headwoman and then departs. Why? Because right then she just /has/ to save that poor Whitchek. She bustles to his side, aiming her hand to tap him on the shoulder. "Look, young man. It's a clutching! Like happy. Plenty of pretty women." /Wink/!
K'del seems to have taken Yuliye's 'no' as a yes; he's drawn his free arm, the one with the hand that was holding on to the beer, about her shoulders lightly, and he looks down at her with amusement, and an unconscious flutter of his own lengthy eyelashes. "-- what she said," he tacks on, after Yuliye's greeting to Tiriana, extending his arm to offer the drink, whatever it is. "There was a line, so it took ages." Nothing to do with the brunette on his arm, oh no.
"Right!" Lest agrees quickly enough to Tiriana, then lifting his brows over at Evayne. "Today, in the galleries." He points out, taking Evayne's hand that she offers. "While the eggs were being clutched. Should see them, wanted to paint some."
Three whole inches. Sometimes they matter. But tonight? "/That/," Leova tells Whit without even bothering to step closer, "Doesn't count as a reply. What did your mother teach you about politeness?" Her glance slides over her shoulder, can't help but find Anvori. Anvori and... her brows tilt up a notch, but that smile escapes for an instant before most of her attention's back, and she has a sip of her drink, even. Skewer and glass in the same hand: it takes coordination, but one hand stays empty. For Altina? "Evening, ma'am." Positively sedate.
"Y(o)u," says Tiriana, her mouth tightening as the Crom diplomat appears, with liquor and her Weyrleader on hand. "I bet it did." And she's giving K'del a glower moreso than Yuliye, but that doesn't stop her from taking the drink and getting herself a long gulp of it. And then she can face the pair, although not without drawing just that much closer to Evayne. "Right," she nods to Ulestien, seconding his explanation. But-- "/Paint/ them? Like, paint on the eggs? Because they're not exactly beautiful or anything, but I still don't think Iovniath would let somebody touch them. Gonna be bad enough letting candidates do egg-touchings, I expect." Grimace.
"Happy," agrees Whitchek. Sure, happy. He can go with happy. The new drink is starting to kick in. "Absolutely." He swallows and looks like he's about to choke on something. "And plenty--right. Sure. ...Who are you, again?" Quick, distract her. But caught by Leova, he can only stammer, "I didn't--I don't--what do you mean, politeness?" He blinks down at the drink as though baffled by how much of it has vanished. Drink thieves, a rising problem. "I just don't know why you're..." And a little bit of a flailing hand that's somehow supposed to indicate the whole grabby business.
Anvori smiles in that indulgent way at Altina, as long as it's from a safe distance and possibly the safest place he could be right now, other than in his room behind a locked door, would be just a step behind A'son. "Your mother, I take it?" A wry grin matches his deduction; it's not so very hard. And then, "Oh, I don't know. I'd say we're both very distinguished looking gentlemen. What girl wouldn't want to be hanging onto our every word and looking up into our grizzled faces?" Laughter hints about his crinkled eyes though doesn't releases from his open-mouthed smile. Whatever drink he was left with, likely the pink thing, is tipped into his mouth and somehow -- /somehow/ -- he manages to pull it off without looking like a girl. From Altina, those hazel eyes skip to Milani and her hussy dress and then shift to the spectacle that is Whitchek, Altina (again), and Leova.
Vaan stands there listening to the converations. He keeps his mouth shut execpt to eat from the meat-stick and to drink. HE looks at the bonfire waiting for the dancing to start he closes his eye's and just listens.
Betegal continues his quiet wandering, listening in on bits of conversation here and there while he takes in the sights, a bit to drink, and eventually starts heading back the same way that he'd come. Apparently the ex-smith is perfectly content to experience the after party in a drive by fashion.
Oh, look. K'del and Yuliye, and Tiriana has her drink now. Hooray! Evayne offers the pair a warm smile, tightening her arm through Tiriana's, accommodating the closeness without complaint. "Hello," she greets, giving K'del a little polite dip of her head. There's a beat, and then she's explaining about the eggs and painting, "I think he means paint a picture of them." A sidelong glance to Lest, even as she's tugging *him* a little closer, squeezing his fingers. "Yes?" Hopeful, that.
Ulestien offers a smile, "on wood. Rather good at carving, not so good with the painting. Or on hides.." He muses then his brows go up at the mention of touching the eggs but he's not saying anything more than that, hiding his surprise, slightly. As Evayne tugs him closer, he moves along easily and returning that squeeze but much more gently. "Yes." He agrees.
"Me," returns Yuliye, her smile absolutely brilliant in the light of Tiriana's tightened mouth. "K'del," oh the desire to pinch his cheeks is just audible in her light, merry voice, "Was just telling me how land isn't power if it's not being used and that there are other, more interesting, sources of power?" Trust Crom to be the one to talk shop and power and all the innuendos in between in the middle of what should be a happy, non-thinking, drunk affair. "Yuliye, I'm sorry Tiriana didn't introduce us yet," says the young woman to the blonde. "Lest, it's so nice to see you again." Not that the appearance of another handsome man makes her move anywhere away from K'del's side. It's too much fun to see Baby T go potentially purple.
In the wake of Altina's bustle to Whitcheck, Milani looks down, gets a quirky little smile and lets that wrap slip. Hey, if you're going to wear a hussy dress, might as well own it, right? Her glass of orange stuff tips up and she takes a sip, rolls it around in her mouth a little, swallows. "Anvori ... what /is/ this?" she asks after a puzzled moment and lifts her glass towards the 'tender.
K'del is innocent! If innocent can be extended to standing as close to Yuliye as he is right now, of course. But he tries, giving Tiriana an apologetic - if somewhat half-hearted - glance that tapers off so that he can turn towards Evayne and Ulestien, instead, and greet them, "Hi there." He /does/ tilt his gaze back fairly quickly towards Yuliye, though, as if her cheek-pinching tone has, slightly belatedly, caused some consternation, but his expression remains mostly lazy. "Yuliye," he notes, then, "believes land is worth more than labour. I imagine that's because she's never worked a day in her life." Amazing, how he can stay that and still look so enamoured as he watches her.
Altina's eyes land on Leova and she looks the greenrider over. "Oh, young lady! You have such a fascinating haircut! Lovely outfit too!" She turns around, waving at her son. "A'son! A'son! Have you met this girl? Isn't she just the picture of loveliness!" A'son is trying very hard to ignore her. Is that wrong? So wrong? "Yes, that's my mother. Is the resemblance that striking or is it just her screaming my name across crowds of people?" Then that mother of is deserting Whitchek and Leova. "Young man! Whisper through the caverns is you're on of your newest candiates!" And she's off. She's moved onto her newest prey: Betegal. "A'son! Meet this young man! Reminds me of you!" Poor, poor, Betegal.
"Oh." Tiriana blinks at this a moment before accepting it. "Well. It wasn't too bad an idea, really," is added a beat later, with a shrug. And another drink. "Are you not capable of introducing yourself? You seem to be doing pretty good on your own," she tells Yuliye, with a glance over the holder. For once, she's even on K'del's side, stepping away from Ulestien and Evayne to claim his other side. "That's probably right," she agrees with him, frostily.
"Politeness," Leova finds the need to repeat to Whitchek after one of her nods-and-smiles to A'son's mother, there. A'son's /mother/. "Answering questions put to you." Whereupon, with her free hand, the greenrider reaches to commandeer Whit's glass with a, "Why I'm, what? And," right after Milani, "What /did/ he put in this, anyway?" Except then she stops without the glass, without his hand holding it, even, and gives the young man a narrow-eyed look quite as though his mind-control powers were working after all.
Betegal looks a little worried when there's attention drawn to him personally. He glances away, perhaps checking for an escape route, and when there isn't one obviously apparent, he smiles politely, and a little uncertainly, to the woman.
Releasing Tiriana's arm when the other woman steps away, Evayne glances sidelong at Lest before reaching to try and take his drink from him so that she can have a drink of it. If he lets her. "It's nice to meet you, Yuliye," she replies easily enough, commenting not at all on the topic of land and power. No way. "I imagine she'd have introduced us if she'd been given the opportunity. I'm Evayne." The words are said lightly, her tone staying warm and friendly, with a little bit of a tease. "This is Ulestien, if you've not met." Gesture.
The claws could come out. They really really could, but this is one battle Yuliye doesn't want to pick, however taunting Tiriana might be fun. After all, isn't that what besties do? So sorry, folks, there'll be no mud-wrestling thrown punches between Tiriana and Yuliye tonight. Pulling away from the cozy tuck of K'del's arm to turn in apology with all the genteel grace of her rank, the dainty brunette leans towards Evayne and Ulestien to balance out the shift in scenic balance Tiriana's move has caused. "It was a pleasure to meet you. And to see you again, Lest." Those hazel eyes linger on Evayne for what she says, the secreted smile blossoming for her words on 'if she had time.' Dubious, but indulgent. "Enjoy yourself at the party," says the not-hostess as if she were the host, before she drifts off with one last pat for the Weyrleader's arm. Drifts off /with/ his beer, mind.