[Log] After the Iovnejoths
Who: Aughan (NPC), K'del, Milani, R'uen, Sh'drian (NPC), Tiriana, Ustelan (NPC) W'chek
When: Day 18, Month 11, Turn 19
Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
What: After Iovniath and Cadejoth's clutch hatches, Tiriana and K'del schmooze with Lord Holders, their own Headwoman, and a couple of Weyrleaders--Fort's, and Ierne's.
Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings.
Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.
Contents:
R'uen
Anvori
Obvious exits:
Inner Caverns Kitchen Bowl
Tiriana
Svelte and undeniably striking, Tiriana carries herself with a bearing that only enhances her natural beauty: impeccably straight posture and an often smirky tilt of full and pouty lips, very red in contrast to her ink-black hair and fair skin. Barely-there freckles cross the bridge of her nose, her high cheekbones, while her eyes are neither wholly blue nor green, but often rimmed with smoky kohl. Her wavy dark hair is always left loose, sleek curls framing her face and reaching to mid-back.
Tall at five-foot-nine, Tiriana leggy frame is always markedly well-dressed, with a penchant for rich colors and fine fabrics tailored to show off her figure. Today the pale gold satin clings just right to show off her figure. While the halter bodice might be too chilly for winter climates, with its lack of sleeves and deep v-shaped neckline, about her shoulders is a sumptuous white fur wrap that should prove warm enough and just a little ostentaitous. From the snug wrap of fabric about her waist, the satin skirt reaches the floor in liquid folds. She also wears a simple black onyx ring on one finger, and no knot.
It's a party! It's all full of people and laughter and fancy clothes and wine. And R'uen is here, making small talk and laughing lightly with a woman who is handing out glasses of said wine. He lingers there a little, even after he has a glass in hand, continuing the idle conversation. Of course, he keeps his eye on the cavern's entrance, a glance flicking that way intermittently.
It takes the Weyrwoman some time to get cleaned up and changed; she's a girl, girls take their time. But eventually, she arrives, in a sweep of fancy new clothes and with K'del in tow, to go schmooze with the dignitaries first. There are a lot of congratulations to be offered around, small talk that Tiriana endures gamely until she can finally escape the Holders and so forth as soon as things settle down a little bit.
K'del has obviously taken at least a little effort with his own appearance, too, swapping out his usual clothes for some a little fancier, his hair still showing some signs of a recent attack with a wet comb. He's doing his best with the dignitaries, too, as charming as he can make it, but though he seems almost inclined towards enjoying it, he looks a little relieved as that duty begins to fade away. "Swear, the next person to comment on the lack of gold can suck it," he mutters, as he heads to get a drink.
Nabol's old, lecherous lord is one of those dignitaries as he comes upon the Weyrleaders, then only finds himself by Tiriana as K'del heads to get a drink. "My dear," he says in his booming voice of all too good health. When will this man die? "Lovely clutch. But with Teonath's passing, it would have been fortuitous if there was a gold, yes?" Oh, poor people. At least he doesn't have old people smell.
Milani heads in from the inner caverns.
Milani has arrived.
Tiriana takes a step back when Nabol's Lord approaches, and she shoots a quick look over her shoulder at K'del. Where'd he go, just when she needs him? It's been a long day, and she's given the same explanation many, many, times already. So forgive her if this time it's a little brusque, her mouth tightening up. "We have Iovniath and Rielsath. More than enough for an interval. And it was a fine clutch," she answers.
"Damn fine clutch," says the Lord, a hand stretched forth to perhaps take more liberties with Tiriana's bottom than would be appropriate. It's lucky for Tiriana and him, that his wife is nearby, a pretty, tiny little thing with that sharp look of opportunity in her green eyes. When she arrives, a calming and guiding hand finds her husband's elbow. "Congratulations," is her pleasant, if slightly insipid greeting, and with the smug air of someone who thinks the /Weyrwoman/ is beneath her, leads her husband away from, 'bothering that nice young woman' anymore.
K'del, such timing! The Weyrleader's steps pause as Nabol's voice sounds above the din of the busy caverns, but he doesn't turn back, instead continuing on towards the drinks table, though at least he pours /two/, and not just one, as if he intends to return. /Intends/, at least. Of course, he gets caught up with a few less notable well-wishers, smiling his way through the congratulations with a weary sort of determination.
It was Tiriana's arrival that R'uen waited for, to watch from across the room as she made her entrance and went to play nice with all the visiting dignitaries. By now, he's taken a second glass of wine and is moving through the crowd, slowly and meanderingly winding his way a bit closer so maybe he can eavesdrop; it seems likely to prove entertaining. Except that only allows him to see that Lord's hand make a reach for the goldrider's rear. Rev takes another sip of his wine.
"Damn--" It's perhaps an inappropriate place to stop, but Tiriana is eyeing that skeevy old Lord and stepping away as he reaches for her. Not subtly, either. Good thing his wife's there, although she gets a cold look herself, and Tiriana mutters, "Bitch," more or less under her breath as she turns away with a shudder. And she, not noticing R'uen heading her way with a drink, stalks purposefully after K'del this time, to grab his arm tightly. "He tried to feel my ass," she accuses him like it's all his fault.
"Just make sure those stay filled," the headwoman is instructing one of the staff attending to the trays of drinks and she smiles at the young man encouragingly. It'll be all right, just try to stay a few ahead of the people coming back around," she gives him a friendly tip, then steps away to check on the platters. They're being kept full and well there's a familiar face and Milani's mouth tweaks into a little grin as she steps up to R'uen. "Good day, sir. It's an honor to find Fort present." That's for general hearing, but she leans in just a little and remarks in an undertone. "Don't mind Lord Nabol, he's a bit of a lech," is meant for Rev's ears alone as she notes the direction of his gaze.
What would a party be without the presence of Lord Crom or his lovely niece at his side, and the pair circulate, the latter saying pretty things to not so pretty people while the former merely watches with the drawn brows of someone entirely amused by a creature that just doesn't fit into his idea of reality. Soon, they may happen upon Tiriana and K'del. Soon. But for now, they drinkn and mingle.
K'del's arm has a drink in it, and he offers it across, as best he can, without shaking free Tiriana's grip. "Sorry," he apologies, apparently genuinely. "Not sure my presence would've stopped him. A doozy, that one. Cheer up, she chased him away." So he was watching, then, even from here. His eyes scan the room, noting, briefly, R'uen and Milani, although Crom and his niece escape his glance, for now.
At such affairs, there's always people who drink far more than is polite and what would a good party be without a bluerider who blusters about /next time/, next time, his daughter will Impress. Just not now. Much to the mortification of said daughter.
Thank goodness for Milani's sudden presence. Otherwise R'uen's expression might have grown more unchecked than just that sublte chewing on the inside of his cheek. Now he can smile broadly and easily at the headwoman and offer his arm so he might continue to take his wandering promenade with her in tow. "Oh none of that," he tells her. But her latter comment does have a twist coming to his mouth. "So I take it that's a usual occurence." Not happy information.
As she leads him away, Ienavi simultaneously pets her husband with pretty words and flattery and plies him with more alcohol. The more inebriated he is, the less likely a wife's duties will have to be fulfilled.
"Good thing nobody gave me a drink first. Would have thrown it at him," Tiriana says as she eyes that glass K'del gives her. It doesn't last long at all, drunk nearly as quickly as she can get it down and fortify herself for the rest of the party. She takes a deep breath. "You could have hit him or something, though. Defended your Weyrwoman's honor." Not that she'd let him steal all that fun, but.
Falling into step with Fort's Weyrleader, Milani nods a little. "He's you know, gone through a lot of wives and they say he can't keep his hands off of the drudges and helpstaff at the Hold." Again low down, not meant to be readily heard. "So try not to take it personally, besides, I think Tiriana's able to handle herself?" Grinning at R'uen she nods to his glass. "How are you finding the wine though, R'uen?" Dropping the sir or the title.
"Right," says K'del, sipping more slowly at /his/ drink. "Caused another Hold to decide we're useless. Not really what I'm going for, in general, Tiriana. We're playing nice, remember?" The glass gets given a thoughtful glance, though his head lifts after a moment to smile congenially at someone passing by, and then, "How's Iovniath doing? Cadejoth thought she was sad."
"Mm, aren't you all lucky then," R'uen snorts, though he keeps his voice as low as Milani's, low enough not to be readily overheard. And as for Tiriana, "She can always handle herself." That, and the headwoman's smile, has him grinning again. "The wine is pretty good. I'm not partial to it in the first place, but it was easy to get at. Have you had a drink or are you too busy for that sort of thing?" His brows lift up and he gestures with his glass toward, well, wherever there might be drinks to be had. Even so, he glances toward the Weyrwoman and K'del.
Lord Aughan, suddenly bereft of his niece, takes to weaving through the clustered groups of people to find the Weyrleaders together. Good-looking, in that oil-slick sort of way, a gracious nod is imparted to High Reaches' newest leaders in the series under his singular reign of Crom. "Congratulations," is his grave, single-worded greeting. In his hand, the goblet he holds is lifted in the slightest toast. Oh, is he interrupting?
Tiriana makes a face at K'del's chastising, but after a moment she shrugs. "She's--it's--" She takes a moment to think of the word. "Bittersweet." But that's as far as she gets before Aughan arrives and Tiriana is eyeing her empty glass forlornly herself. "Thank you," she restricts herself to just those words, and an attempt at a polite, cool smile that isn't quite at least one of those.
"Could be worse," Milani tells R'uen and gives his arm a little pat. "Though, /that/ is often what winds up being worse," she says with a tiny nod towards Lord Crom. "If you don't care all that much for wine, what's your poison? There's trays circulating, or the table's just there," she points it out. "If you'd like something stronger. I haven't gotten more than a sip of water yet, and I'd be delighted to get my hands on something with a little more kick. It's a celebration after all, right?"
K'del is mouthing 'bittersweet' right at about the moment Aughan approaches, expression inclined more towards the serious and thoughtful, which makes the smile he pastes on for Lord Crom just that little bit less than genuine. Or, rather, more less than genuine. "Thank you, Lord Aughan," he says, his echoing in just after Tiriana's, his not-yet-empty glass lifted. "We're very proud, of course."
For Tiriana, there's the most passing of glances that then double takes, as if there might be some flicker of recognition. But really, would the Crom Lord recognize a Telgar stablehand to this day? So the second glance Weyrwoman-ward segues into a more solid, smileless look for the Weyrleader. He makes no pretense of those facial niceties, though he'll maintain the exceedingly polite veneer. "I've heard much of both of you from Yuliye. She seems quite enamored with Weyr life much to my chagrin." Though he sounds more pleased than displeased. "And Crom is very proud of /her/ Weyr's accomplishments."
Out on the dance floor, whirled by her able, kind husband, Edeline's laughter rises unchecked for once; at least there's one Lordship pair that seems happy.
R'uen eyes Lord Crom and leans in a bit toward Milani, to continue that hushed conversation. "It's odd, you know. I was Telgar for all that. Strange to be on the other side." It's a thoughtful comment, not that his eyes stay on the Holder long. It's once over Tiriana again and then back to Milani. With his voice brighter, "Let me be your excuse to take some time and enjoy the party. We can drink whatever you like, just point me at it and I'll fetch it for you." A right gentleman. He's also downing what's left of his wine in preparation for something better.
Tiriana looks like she's about to open her mouth and say something smart when Aughan mentions Yuliye and Weyrlife, but she stops herself. She can learn! Instead, trying hard not to smirk, she says, "What can I say, we're a real charming bunch. It's so generous of you to let us borrow her for a while. Thank you. If you'll excuse us, though--. Lots of other guests to attend." She can't get away fast enough.
"Yuliye's a ni--" a nice girl? That seems to be what K'del was about to say, though he cuts himself off as Tiriana excuses them. His expression shifts, tangled between resignation and annoyance, but smoothes out again as he concludes, "But, my Weyrwoman is correct, yes: we really should keep mingling. Perhaps we'll have time for a proper chat later?" Then, he turns about, to head after Tiriana, draining the rest of /his/ glass. "Could've tried a /little/ harder," he mutters, probably loud enough for her to hear.
"The both of you, right?" Milani asks of R'uen, blue-green eyes serious on his face. "And now you have to be mindful of Fort's interests," she murmurs softly. Next though, the headwoman laughs and aims to curl her hand under his elbow. "Let's get something with rum in it then, hm? This way, R'uen. And I can be your excuse for not popping Lord Nabol one," she says with a little wink.
It's only after the Weyrleaders escape his pretty beady, black stare that Aughan finally cracks a smile across the veneer of his flat neutrality. Amused, he looks down into his goblet and swirls what wine's left in there. Sooner or later, Yuliye will find her way to his side once more, of this he's certain. Who knows what she's doing in the mean time, but that's not a pleasant thought for Crom's Lord to dwell on for his favorite little chess piece.
"/His/ Weyr my ass," says Tiriana. "You weren't here when he pulled that stunt with Telgar. I was. Not putting up with him now." And she shoots a glance back toward Crom as they flee him, and she relaxes finally. Time for another drink, maybe one she won't have to gulp this time, but before she can lead K'del far to find one, she's catching a glimpse of familiar reddish hair and pulling him that way. In the midst of all the dignitaries, even Milani's a welcome stopover, and the fact that she's with R'uen is just icing when Tiriana notices him. "Mila--R'uen!" And she lets go of her stronghold on K'del's arm right fast.
"Both of us, yeah. Well, no secret that she's done a good bit of turning around, you know? Rum it is." R'uen might have to let his arm slip from propping up Milani's as he squeezes in to get those rummy drinks, but he catches her hand to keep hold of her, just in case someone tries to steal his escort away. He's just passing the first drink back toward the headwoman and questioning her choice, "Sort of tropical, isn't it?" when Tiriana's voice calls out. He beams over his shoulder at the goldrider and instead of taking the second glass for himself, it's held out in her direction.
K'del, thus pulled, looks a little bit relieved as his arm gets let go of, though his gaze hesitates in glancing at R'uen - and then, more warmly, in Milani's direction. His empty glass is transferred to the other hand, as he notes, albeit belatedly, "Still have to be /civil/, Tiriana. Whatever you think of him." Then, more loudly, "Hey, Milani. R'uen."
"Didn't hit him," says Tiriana, which apparently counts as civil in her book. No more mind for K'del, not when she's got a better escort at hand--and one offering her liquor. She takes the glass quickly, but it's second to scooting in close to R'uen and beaming, Crom forgotten quickly. "They /hatched/," as though everybody didn't already know that.
"Mm, a little, but I suppose I'm in the mood for something bright and cheery," Milani claims as R'uen passes her her drink and she sends a charming smile his way. She turns at the odd combination of names, called out by Tiriana and she turns her smile towards the Weyrwoman. "Tiriana," and just beyond her, K'del. "Congratulations, Weyrleaders," she slips into the formal though her smile for Kas holds a note of sweetness.
R'uen grins and gives Milani's hand a little squeeze and a tug when she turns her pleasant formality on her own Weyrleaders. There's a teasing light in his eye when he smirks at her, just before he lets her hand go. After all, Tiriana is closing in and there are drinks to be juggled. He still needs one for himself. "They hatched. And they're beautiful," he grins at the goldrider, opening a free arm for her to tuck against his side beneath. And, as for having to be civil, whatever one thinks, more appropriate words are rarely spoken and surely that's what's exactly what's going through R'uen's mind as his own glance moves on to the Reaches Weyrleader. "K'del."
K'del opens his mouth, again, but the words just don't come out; probably, there really isn't anything he /can/ effectively say in response to Tiriana's supposed civility. That's probably why his eyes roll ever so slightly at her statement of the obvious: he shakes his head slightly, rueful, whilst returning Milani's smile warmly. Pity that can't last, even though he attempts to keep his smile in place as he glances back at R'uen. "They /are/ beautiful, aren't they? Really nice looking dragons."
Abandoning her Weyrleader for the foreign one, Tiriana settles in at R'uen's side, with a much smaller sip of her drink now that she's away from having to be polite to visitors. She shoots a wary look between the two bronzeriders, though. "They are," she agrees with both; how's that for diplomacy. "Two bronzes, too, did you see? I mean, they picked idiots for riders, but--well, really. What other kind of options /were/ there?"
Milani lifts her glass a little in toast. "Here's to the Reaches' latest successful clutch," she proposes by way of perhaps lightening any tensions. "It ought to be an interesting group of weyrlings," the headwoman offers as an add-on to diplomacy. "They're all very -- dedicated." Once she's spoken her glass tilts and Millie takes a sip of the drink. With Tiriana claiming R'uen she steps a little bit away and more towards K'del.
R'uen wasn't talking to K'del. Does it show in the flatness of his eye? That's the only place it would, since he keeps a light smile neatly on his face. He gives Tiriana a little tug and animates again. "Well, bronzes to have that tendency." The return of a more playful grin seems to include himself in that count. "You'll just have to fogive them." He sneaks a kiss against Tiriana's temple and murmurs something in her ear, but then his attention is back on Milani. And K'del. He lifts his glass for the toast and even offers, "Need a drink, K'del? I can grab one for you."
K'del hands over his empty glass to a passing cavern's worker, and lifts an empty hand, instead, to match Milani's toast. "Absolutely," he agrees, though adds, "Didn't really get to know most of them, but - should be interesting, from what I hear. Cadejoth's enormously proud, of course." As Milani steps in his direction, he offers his arm, silently, and with only the briefest of smiling glances; then, "Oh, well, if you're going?" That's to R'uen. "That'd be great, thanks."
"Whitchek got one," says Tiriana. "You remember him?" She glances up at R'uen for a moment, beams at his whisper. "Don't I?" she says, stepping back just a little, giving her dress half a twirl to show it off as he offers to fetch more drinks. "Knew... lot of them. Especially lately, half of them wanting me to punch them. That one--" and she looks to Milani like the headwoman will know what she's talking about "--got a blue. The one with the foot. what did your dragon do to him?" Because Isforaith? Totally Cadejoth's fault. She eyes K'del hard.
That offered arm is taken, Milani's fingers curling comfortably around K'del's elbow. "With plenty of reason to be proud for both clutchparents," the headwoman says with perhaps relentless optimism. "Isziyo, I didn't catch what he's going to be called as a rider, though I'm sure the names will make the rounds soon."
"The one you scandalized?" R'uen asks, making sure that's the candidate Tiriana means, not that he'd met any others. He only gets to admire the dress for a moment, and then he takes his chance to snag a drink for K'del, handing it over with a lift of his own in a little belated post-toast. His expression might be a touch serious, but hey, he's toasting. And after finally taking a sip of his rum-soaked drink, "It's a wonder it doesn't happen more, isn't it? Cramped up in those eggs the way they are, I'm surprised more of them don't come out sort of... bent out of shape. Think it'll straighten out?"
"/Whitchek/," repeats K'del, who has evidently heard something about that particular candidate. "But I'm with Millie: definitely plenty of reason to be proud." He accepts his drink from R'uen with a genuine smile, twisting it thoughtfully with his fingers rather than drinking, just yet, and adds, "Cadejoth, I swear, did nothing. He wasn't even on the sands until this week, and they were hard, then. R'uen's right, just one of those things that happens, maybe. Bet he'll be fine."
With a briefly unfocused gaze, Tiriana supplies, "Z'yi. Where the hell he got--." But she shakes her head, brushes it off, and glances back at K'del. "I don't care. He did /something/. That clumsy..." Deep breaths. And a look at R'uen as she notes, "It does not just happen. They don't just... come out screwed up." She'll pout about it, too, and take another long drink.
"I suppose the weyrlingmaster will have more news about that, the paw, in a little while," Milani says, still with the hopeful and her hand tucks in under K'del's elbow a little more. Tiriana's petulance is, perhaps wisely, ignored. "At least it's nice and short, Z'yi. Isziyo was always a little bit of a trip-over name," the headwoman confesses with a wry turn to her smile. "As for Whitchek ... I hope that Impression might open his eyes a little, though on a bronze, it might be validation of his ideas about things. But who knows, weyrlinghood tends to bring out things that you might not always expect in a person."
R'uen must know it's coming, Tiriana's pout; he's grinning, a little at K'del even, before the goldrider's grumping comes out. "Maybe it was one of those lousy candidates," he'll offer out for her benefit. "The idiot bronzeriders." But, more seriously he asks Milani, "Validation of his ideas?" He might have an inkling, since he did bump into Whitchek once, but his brows are up with interest anyway.
K'del transfers his glass to the other hand so that he can rest one on Milani's arm in return for a quick squeeze. The fact that R'uen is grinning at him seems to help enough that he doesn't outright snark at Tiriana in response, and instead, merely shrugs his shoulders. "Someone was telling me," he puts in, "that Mikandros' mother walked out when he Impressed. M'kan? M'kandros? Whatever." Of Whitchek, he can only add, "He'll learn. Got to, surely. Now that he's part of us. The weyr, I mean."
"You got him on a good night," says Tiriana, wrinkling up her nose. "He just ran away when I kissed you, instead of jumping up and yelling something about how I'm a brazen hussy who might as well just fuck you right there in the galleries." She can't decide whether to snicker or roll her eyes in disgust, it would seem; the expression she makes is a little of both. Another pause; then, "K'ndro. I swear, these people--Iovniath won't stop talking about them all, over and over." Sigh.
"My impression overall is that he'd like to see the Weyr run more like a Hold," Milani says lightly enough, giving K'del's arm a little encouraging squeeze of her own before she takes another sip from her drink. "As for Mikaela ... I'm not surprised. She -- doesn't approve," Millie says softly, a little crinkle forming in her forehead. "K'ndro?" That seems to give her some pause and her head shakes. "Interesting," is murmured softly before she rallies a bit, looks up at K'del. "I guess we'll see at the far end of weyrlinghood if Whit -- W'chek, Tiriana? -- feels that way."
R'uen makes a face at Tiriana like he's trying very hard not to laugh at the way she just lays it all out, just like that, while so dressed up in the middle of this very nice party. In the end, the laugh does come out, with a cough for preamble. "Well, you did offer," he reminds her. The laugh still hangs in his expression a bit, as he nods to Milani. "He mentioned about being a holder. And something about having a girl?"
K'del, dryly, "Oh no, fucking your own weyrmate. Weirdo." W'chek, not Tiriana. Unless he's being sarcastic. Either way. Certainly, R'uen's remark on her offering makes him smirk. "Hate to hear that," he continues, of Mikaela and K'ndro. "Hope she'll come around. Like W'chek will. " He transfers his glass back, so that he can take a sip from it, swirling the liquid in his mouth before swallowing it.
W'chek has arrived.
Tiriana confirms, a couple of beats later, "W'chek, yeah. Sane one, at least. And Zhikath's the bronze." R'uen gets a long sideways look, just a little smirk. "Well. So what if I did." It pleases her, and that smirk's aimed at K'del, too, as she leans just that much more into her own bronzerider's side. Nyah. "Who, his girl? That wilting little healer?" she says then, with a snort. "They deserve each other, I think."
"Hopefully," Milani echoes K'del with a little wry smile. "He's been courting Madilla, the healer, yes" the headwoman explains about the having a girl then she blinks once at Kas' vulgar language in the middle of a hatching party and shoots him a little 'wtf?' type look. Tiriana's remarks earn a drawn breath from Milani though. "It's been nice seeing her smile. Though of course she's only an apprentice and now he's a weyrling so there'll be some waiting."
R'uen catches that look that Milani gives K'del and, well, that does make him grin, though he pulls his own foul-mouthed partner in closer when she leans. And if he smiles, well, that's his camaraderie with Milani, not the presence of an unspoken 'nyah' happening under his arm. "From the sounds of him, there'd be some waiting either way. So there's him, the blue with weird foot, the guy with the angry... mother, was it? Sounds like quite a group." He'll drink to that.
K'del, guiltily, ducks his head under Milani's censure, though his glance half shoots in Tiriana's direction. She started it! But, more importantly: "/Madilla/. Shells. Always assumed someone would have to, like, negotiate with her Journeyman or something before you could get close. Suppose if he's like that, though... If she's happy. Be a long wait, though, poor guy." How clear is it that K'del hasn't had a lot of interaction with W'chek? Very clear, that's how. "Don't know much about the others," he puts in, in response to R'uen, "but sure does sound like it." They're standing not far from the drinks, amidst the hustle and bustle of the party.
So, the dragons are sound asleep, and despite looking kind of train-wrecked tired himself, W'chek has been doing the social thing with a fairly sizable group of people, all of whom are dressed like backwater holders. It takes awhile for him to disentangle himself from what seem to be a succession of huddled man-to-man talks. All that important advice to give. He's an important guy now. Well, more important than Whitchek-the-candidate was. Look, there are even a whole lot of very important people talking about him. Wait, what? He's really just passing by on the way to get something to ease this whole process. Not eavesdropping. At all. It's just--"Um, hi?" You know, he's standing right there. Might as well be polite.
"He'll have his own weyr soon enough," Tiriana says, giving both Milani and K'del funny looks. "Not /that/ long. Even if she is, technically, an apprentice." Beat. "Oh. Hi, W'chek." She's not one bit embarrassed to have been caught talking about his personal business, and gives him only a cursory once-over before she says, rather proudly considering, "And Betegal got a little green."
And we should be encouraging Tiriana? Milani's fingers press again againts K'del's arm. "A long time waiting for both of them," the headwoman echoes again with a little wry look. Long time waiting might be something that some in the little cluster of Weyrleaders and one headwoman might understand. She answers that grin of R'uen's with a little hint of mischief in her eyes. "Yes. Ajatha is from Ista and her mother is a weyrlingmaster at Southern, no less, and let's see Isziyo - er, Z'yi and Betegal are both native sons, so to speak. I grew up with Betegal in the caverns here before he apprenticed at the Smith Hall." And there's Whit himself. "Congratulations, W'chek," Milani offers sincerely and lifts her glass his way with a little nod and a warm enough smile.
"It's a long wait," R'uen agrees with the majority, giving a vaguely 'are you mad?' look to Tiriana. He skips the 'oh hi' when the new weyrling turns up, even if it's written on his face. It's only there for a beat anyway before he grins a bit more broadly. "Congratulations," he tells the young man. "How's it feel?" Like W'chek hasn't been asked that a thousand times already. Meanwhile, that Tiriana is gloating over any candidate in particular has him tossing a curious glance in her direction.
Point taken. At least, K'del's managed to look actually apologetic and not just guilty, as Milani presses those fingers down. "Wouldn't be back there for the world," he reflects, on the waiting. "Can you see Madilla breaking that kind of rule? No." He's silent throughout the continued discussion of who got what and how, and, unlike Tiriana, looks at least a little abashed when W'chek speaks up. "Er-- yes, congratulations, W'chek. He's asleep?"
"B'tal," Tiriana will absently correct Milani on that front now, though mention of Ajatha makes her scowl. "She taught my daddy. Well, didn't teach much, just was on the team. Don't think anybody really taught /him/." And she lifts her chin, just a little prideful of that. As for getting shot down, re: Madilla and W'chek rule-breaking? She just huffs, scowls, offers a lame, "Congratulations."
The old Whitchek--and the person W'chek will probably go back to being after he's had a good night's sleep, for that matter--would manage some kind of angry retort about Madilla's virtue. This version is too tired, although still scowly. "He's asleep. Out cold, I think. Wish he'd wake up, it'd get me out of here." A glance back at that crowd of presumably-family. "It feels like I've had the crap beaten out of me. I can *feel* him sleeping in my head. How exhausted he is. And then how exhausted I am, and I'm expected to be sociable? Only if I don't, *they* won't forgive me. Some of the others had the right idea. Just fell asleep with 'em."
"B'tal," Milani echoes Tiriana as if she's committing each of these new names to memory every time the Weyrwoman provides one. "And no, I can't see Madilla doing much rule-breaking," she agrees with K'del with a small smile. Her glass lifts, more rummy drink with tropical juice taken. And there's W'chek being very blunt. "I hope you get some good rest tonight when you're able," Millie keeps up with the sincere. "And that he's not up and down too much."
"Not for the world," R'uen agrees. "Twice was enough." Oh, but with W'chek still reeling from that new sensation of a dragon in his head, Rev can't help but grin. "Yeah, you probably won't stop feeling exhausted for a couple of months. I didn't, at least. Might as well get used to it. I'd offer you a drink but..." But he's too busy rubbing it in.
K'del bypasses further comment on Madilla - perhaps W'chek's scowl has given him pause? - to instead suggest, "/Could/ just tell them he's woken up, and hightail it away. They won't have to know, and no one else will care. It's an excellent excuse for getting out of things, as I recall. It's a weird time, the early days." He makes it sound like he remembers only vaguely, from a lifetime away. "Nice to have your family here, though, I bet." Look at K'del, looking mildly rueful, like SOME families never made the effort.
"Just say he woke up," Tiriana agrees with K'del, no problems with lying for her. "Or--hell." She shoots a glance around toward the people he's been hanging around with, all those family types. "You want me to run them off? I'll send 'em all home. No messing with my weyrlings. Not like you need /them/, you've got the Weyr now." Which is totally better than family. Right.
Another glance back. "No. Uh--no," W'chek says very quickly to the Weyrwoman. "Don't need your help. I can handle it." Bit of a sigh. "Just needed to get away for a few minutes. Let them waste some of that enthusiasm on each other if they have to. Would think this was all their idea from the way they're talking now. Like they knew it. Not like they came to see me fail and haul me off home." He manages a half-smile for R'uen. "Drinking got me into this mess, I can pass on any more of it right now." Even if it's clear from the way he says it that 'this mess' is no longer a wholly bad thing.
Milani tilts a little look sidelong at K'del, brows flickering with something, maybe amusement because of those tips for ducking out the Weyrleader is sharing. "I'm glad they made it W'chek," she continues to echo K'del somewhat. "Though I'm sure it'll be a relief too not to be on the spot quite so much," she offers by way of compromise between things and finishes off her drink.
The tug of R'uen's arm around Tiriana's waist is meant to distract her and hopefully keep her from randomly attacking W'chek's unsuspecting family. Like Milani, he knocks back the last of his drink and turns to set it aside. "Well, good luck with your mess," he grins to the weyrling. And to goldrider he mentions, "I think I'm gonna turn in." Then everyone else gets the bob of his head. "Milani, a pleasure as always. K'del. W'chek, congratulations again."
K'del must catch Milani's glance, because he turns his head to smile, saint-like, at her. Perfect weyrling, he was, really! Except that the smile gets drawn out into a much broader grin, which stays in place as he notes, to W'chek, "Guess they won't be doing any dragging, now. Anyway, imagine they can't stay for too long, and then you'll be free again." Pause. "Well, as free as a weyrling is, I guess. Which isn't very. Good night, R'uen. Nice to see you again." It /sounds/ genuine enough.
"You sure?" And Tiriana sounds like she's actually trying to be helpful, glancing from W'chek to his family and back. She sighs, though, and doesn't go after them; instead, she glances at R'uen, frowns. "I... I should stay," she says, with a reluctant glance over the party. "I have to stay. --Not even one dance?" She pouts.
"Mm." W'chek does not sound at all in agreement with this business of being glad they made it, even going so far as to angle briefly around behind the taller K'del at one point when glances turn in that direction--it's nice having so many giants at this Weyr, it really is. Especially if you're seriously avoidant. "They're leaving tonight. I think. I don't think they can all possibly stay, and I think they have transit lined up already. I just need to survive until then... 'Night," tacked onto the end, with a distracted nod to the Fortian Weyrleader.
"Likewise, R'uen," Milani wishes sincerely with a nod of her head. "And a good night to you," she says, model of headwomanly politesse. Tiriana's continued questionable behavior elicits a brief press of Millie's lips then she's moving to put her glass down, empty to perhaps cover that reaction. "We are a little short on guest accomodations, but there's no lack of riders on transport duty," Millie supplies with a smile for W'chek. "The weather isn't exactly lending itself to sticking around either, what with the snow and all."
"Stay," R'uen tells Tiriana, pulling her in for another peck. "Dance if you have to. I'll help Zaiventh keep her company until you're done." Then he lets her go and gives everyone a quick wave before he makes good on his plan.
"We won't keep her up too long," promises K'del, glancing at R'uen as the Fortian Weyrleader leaves. Realistically, though, most of his attention is focused upon W'chek, the lucky weyrling. "Not too long to have to deal, then," he grins. "You'll do fine." He looks amused at the way W'chek angles around him, though he doesn't comment on it, instead asking: "You're coping all right, otherwise? It's a... an adjustment. Suppose it's still too soon to really have your head around it."
Tiriana might be sulking, but that's no excuse for just a peck. So before R'uen goes, she catches him and gets herself a proper kiss, then watches him disappear with a lingering frown. She turns grudgingly back to conversation at hand. "Like you're my guardian?" she tells K'del, just a little smart. But only a little bit. It's been a long day. "Don't know why the families all want to just mob you as soon as you get here, anyway. You'd think they'd get it, you don't want to get swarmed by everybody on down to third cousins after this kind of day."
R'uen has left.
"He's been asleep," says W'chek, like that's an explanation for how he's coping. Then: "We'll see... when he wakes up. I don't know." But then, from Tiriana, the first sensible thing he's heard from her... possibly ever. "I don't know. I didn't even think they were coming. Then I see my parents this morning and they're all saying it was supposed to be a *surprise*. I don't like surprises." Well, possibly excepting today's big one.
"Everyone gets excited around a Hatching," Milani says evenly, "after all it's a once in a lifetime thing all around, isn't it?" She smiles at both Weyrwoman and weyrling, then leans up to drop a kiss to K'del's cheek. "I should go check to make sure everything's running smoothly." Turning back to the others she nods politely. "Tiriana, again congratulations on a fine clutch to you and Iovniath, W'chek on your fine new lifemate." She gently withdraws her hand from K'del's arm. "K'del, I hope Cadejoth is very proud. Good evening." So saying the headwoman steps away to see to the whole keep the food and drink flowing thing.
"No," says K'del, to Tiriana. "Like-- I don't know. Like we're friendly, and look out for each other after long, exhausting days." It comes out with more of a bite than perhaps he intended it to, a flash of apology lingering there for a moment, though it can't linger: there's Milani's peck to consider. "'Course," he agrees, smiling down at her, his arm lingering against hers for a moment. He's glancing after her so fondly that it takes him a moment to add, to W'chek, "Right, of course. Guess you'll see. Enjoy it, though. These first days. They fly past like nothing else."
"My gran, half a dozen each aunts and uncles and all their kids..." Just thinking back on the crowd she rated makes Tiriana grimace. "And my daddy," who apparently gets a whole special category of his own. And who is, also, apparently, coming up right behind her: a tall older man with white-blonde hair and a smirk the exact match of Tiriana's, who loiters nearby shooting and watches her, though she's oblivious. "Good thing," Tiriana tells K'del in the meantime. "Weyrlinghood's boring as everything. Never let us do anything at Telgar. You guys got off easy."
"I don't think--" Pause. "Boring might be nice," W'chek finally manages to say. "After everything. Get back to just... work and sleep and meals instead of worrying all the time." He can say that now. Fair bet he'll be back to the worrying by morning. "I know it'll probably go too fast, but at least it won't be candidacy all over again. At least... now we know. For better or for worse."
Milani goes home.
Milani has left.
"My niece was born around about hatching day," shrugs K'del, which is a pretty sad thing in comparison to W'chek and Tiriana, especially when he says, "So no one came, though they were going to. Didn't matter; /I/ didn't care." Right. Sure. His lifted gaze has caught sight of Tiriana's father, which is particularly obvious given the way he flicks his gaze from one to the other, comparing. What he says next, however, is, "Right. You know. It'll drag on eventually, though. Even if apparently mine was less boring than Tiriana's." Which he seems to doubt.
"A baby's more important than you impressing bronze," and Tiriana snorts, shaking her head. "Babies happen all the time. Loads of people have /them/. Families are stup--" She breaks off abruptly, because K'del's shifting gaze has her attention, and she turns to see what he's looking at. And Sh'drian just smirks, swaggers over to meet them. "Aren't they just," he agrees. "Weyrleader?" Really? He doesn't quite say it, but to be sure, the suggestion's there in the long look he takes over the much younger bronzerider I see I just missed your headwoman, too. Shame." And he glances from K'del after Milani and back, lifts a brow. "You don't mind if I steal your Weyrwoman." Statement, not question, as he slides a possessive arm around Tiriana. Her jaw tightens.
"It's not," W'chek manages to say to K'del, "really as nice as it sounds like. I wish they'd just go. I really do. I thought I wanted them here, at first, but now..." He shakes his head, eyes Tiriana. "Of course babies happen all the time, but it's not like there aren't plenty of hatchings, too. Really... kind of the same thing, isn't it? Babies. Either way. Just some bigger'n others." But he stays out of any of this business with the new stranger; more strangers aren't within the realm of what he can really process at the moment.
"/They/ didn't know I'd Impressed bronze," K'del says, defending his family, though there's an implication, there: /he/ knew. Or thought he knew. "Difference in hatchings where you someone you love is Impressing, though. Take your point on family, anyway. My sister wanted to come to see this one, but..." He shakes his head. His drink has been sitting in his hand, not yet finished, for some time; he takes a moment here to drink it, which is right about the point when Sh'drian approaches. K'del is not at his best, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Pause. "Weyrleader. Imagine she'll go with you if she wants to, or otherwise, not; not in charge of her." No comment on Milani. /His/ lips have tightened, too.
"No," Sh'drian agrees lightly. "I didn't suppose you were." But for all that, the question's still not really put to Tiriana, and Sh'drian steps away like he expects her to follow. Which she still, somehow, does. "Excuse me," she says briefly. "I'll see you later." And she leaves then in the escort of her father, off toward some more out-of-the-way spot in the caverns for what is--on her part at least--likely to become a very animated conversation.
When: Day 18, Month 11, Turn 19
Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
What: After Iovniath and Cadejoth's clutch hatches, Tiriana and K'del schmooze with Lord Holders, their own Headwoman, and a couple of Weyrleaders--Fort's, and Ierne's.
Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings.
Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.
Contents:
R'uen
Anvori
Obvious exits:
Inner Caverns Kitchen Bowl
Tiriana
Svelte and undeniably striking, Tiriana carries herself with a bearing that only enhances her natural beauty: impeccably straight posture and an often smirky tilt of full and pouty lips, very red in contrast to her ink-black hair and fair skin. Barely-there freckles cross the bridge of her nose, her high cheekbones, while her eyes are neither wholly blue nor green, but often rimmed with smoky kohl. Her wavy dark hair is always left loose, sleek curls framing her face and reaching to mid-back.
Tall at five-foot-nine, Tiriana leggy frame is always markedly well-dressed, with a penchant for rich colors and fine fabrics tailored to show off her figure. Today the pale gold satin clings just right to show off her figure. While the halter bodice might be too chilly for winter climates, with its lack of sleeves and deep v-shaped neckline, about her shoulders is a sumptuous white fur wrap that should prove warm enough and just a little ostentaitous. From the snug wrap of fabric about her waist, the satin skirt reaches the floor in liquid folds. She also wears a simple black onyx ring on one finger, and no knot.
It's a party! It's all full of people and laughter and fancy clothes and wine. And R'uen is here, making small talk and laughing lightly with a woman who is handing out glasses of said wine. He lingers there a little, even after he has a glass in hand, continuing the idle conversation. Of course, he keeps his eye on the cavern's entrance, a glance flicking that way intermittently.
It takes the Weyrwoman some time to get cleaned up and changed; she's a girl, girls take their time. But eventually, she arrives, in a sweep of fancy new clothes and with K'del in tow, to go schmooze with the dignitaries first. There are a lot of congratulations to be offered around, small talk that Tiriana endures gamely until she can finally escape the Holders and so forth as soon as things settle down a little bit.
K'del has obviously taken at least a little effort with his own appearance, too, swapping out his usual clothes for some a little fancier, his hair still showing some signs of a recent attack with a wet comb. He's doing his best with the dignitaries, too, as charming as he can make it, but though he seems almost inclined towards enjoying it, he looks a little relieved as that duty begins to fade away. "Swear, the next person to comment on the lack of gold can suck it," he mutters, as he heads to get a drink.
Nabol's old, lecherous lord is one of those dignitaries as he comes upon the Weyrleaders, then only finds himself by Tiriana as K'del heads to get a drink. "My dear," he says in his booming voice of all too good health. When will this man die? "Lovely clutch. But with Teonath's passing, it would have been fortuitous if there was a gold, yes?" Oh, poor people. At least he doesn't have old people smell.
Milani heads in from the inner caverns.
Milani has arrived.
Tiriana takes a step back when Nabol's Lord approaches, and she shoots a quick look over her shoulder at K'del. Where'd he go, just when she needs him? It's been a long day, and she's given the same explanation many, many, times already. So forgive her if this time it's a little brusque, her mouth tightening up. "We have Iovniath and Rielsath. More than enough for an interval. And it was a fine clutch," she answers.
"Damn fine clutch," says the Lord, a hand stretched forth to perhaps take more liberties with Tiriana's bottom than would be appropriate. It's lucky for Tiriana and him, that his wife is nearby, a pretty, tiny little thing with that sharp look of opportunity in her green eyes. When she arrives, a calming and guiding hand finds her husband's elbow. "Congratulations," is her pleasant, if slightly insipid greeting, and with the smug air of someone who thinks the /Weyrwoman/ is beneath her, leads her husband away from, 'bothering that nice young woman' anymore.
K'del, such timing! The Weyrleader's steps pause as Nabol's voice sounds above the din of the busy caverns, but he doesn't turn back, instead continuing on towards the drinks table, though at least he pours /two/, and not just one, as if he intends to return. /Intends/, at least. Of course, he gets caught up with a few less notable well-wishers, smiling his way through the congratulations with a weary sort of determination.
It was Tiriana's arrival that R'uen waited for, to watch from across the room as she made her entrance and went to play nice with all the visiting dignitaries. By now, he's taken a second glass of wine and is moving through the crowd, slowly and meanderingly winding his way a bit closer so maybe he can eavesdrop; it seems likely to prove entertaining. Except that only allows him to see that Lord's hand make a reach for the goldrider's rear. Rev takes another sip of his wine.
"Damn--" It's perhaps an inappropriate place to stop, but Tiriana is eyeing that skeevy old Lord and stepping away as he reaches for her. Not subtly, either. Good thing his wife's there, although she gets a cold look herself, and Tiriana mutters, "Bitch," more or less under her breath as she turns away with a shudder. And she, not noticing R'uen heading her way with a drink, stalks purposefully after K'del this time, to grab his arm tightly. "He tried to feel my ass," she accuses him like it's all his fault.
"Just make sure those stay filled," the headwoman is instructing one of the staff attending to the trays of drinks and she smiles at the young man encouragingly. It'll be all right, just try to stay a few ahead of the people coming back around," she gives him a friendly tip, then steps away to check on the platters. They're being kept full and well there's a familiar face and Milani's mouth tweaks into a little grin as she steps up to R'uen. "Good day, sir. It's an honor to find Fort present." That's for general hearing, but she leans in just a little and remarks in an undertone. "Don't mind Lord Nabol, he's a bit of a lech," is meant for Rev's ears alone as she notes the direction of his gaze.
What would a party be without the presence of Lord Crom or his lovely niece at his side, and the pair circulate, the latter saying pretty things to not so pretty people while the former merely watches with the drawn brows of someone entirely amused by a creature that just doesn't fit into his idea of reality. Soon, they may happen upon Tiriana and K'del. Soon. But for now, they drinkn and mingle.
K'del's arm has a drink in it, and he offers it across, as best he can, without shaking free Tiriana's grip. "Sorry," he apologies, apparently genuinely. "Not sure my presence would've stopped him. A doozy, that one. Cheer up, she chased him away." So he was watching, then, even from here. His eyes scan the room, noting, briefly, R'uen and Milani, although Crom and his niece escape his glance, for now.
At such affairs, there's always people who drink far more than is polite and what would a good party be without a bluerider who blusters about /next time/, next time, his daughter will Impress. Just not now. Much to the mortification of said daughter.
Thank goodness for Milani's sudden presence. Otherwise R'uen's expression might have grown more unchecked than just that sublte chewing on the inside of his cheek. Now he can smile broadly and easily at the headwoman and offer his arm so he might continue to take his wandering promenade with her in tow. "Oh none of that," he tells her. But her latter comment does have a twist coming to his mouth. "So I take it that's a usual occurence." Not happy information.
As she leads him away, Ienavi simultaneously pets her husband with pretty words and flattery and plies him with more alcohol. The more inebriated he is, the less likely a wife's duties will have to be fulfilled.
"Good thing nobody gave me a drink first. Would have thrown it at him," Tiriana says as she eyes that glass K'del gives her. It doesn't last long at all, drunk nearly as quickly as she can get it down and fortify herself for the rest of the party. She takes a deep breath. "You could have hit him or something, though. Defended your Weyrwoman's honor." Not that she'd let him steal all that fun, but.
Falling into step with Fort's Weyrleader, Milani nods a little. "He's you know, gone through a lot of wives and they say he can't keep his hands off of the drudges and helpstaff at the Hold." Again low down, not meant to be readily heard. "So try not to take it personally, besides, I think Tiriana's able to handle herself?" Grinning at R'uen she nods to his glass. "How are you finding the wine though, R'uen?" Dropping the sir or the title.
"Right," says K'del, sipping more slowly at /his/ drink. "Caused another Hold to decide we're useless. Not really what I'm going for, in general, Tiriana. We're playing nice, remember?" The glass gets given a thoughtful glance, though his head lifts after a moment to smile congenially at someone passing by, and then, "How's Iovniath doing? Cadejoth thought she was sad."
"Mm, aren't you all lucky then," R'uen snorts, though he keeps his voice as low as Milani's, low enough not to be readily overheard. And as for Tiriana, "She can always handle herself." That, and the headwoman's smile, has him grinning again. "The wine is pretty good. I'm not partial to it in the first place, but it was easy to get at. Have you had a drink or are you too busy for that sort of thing?" His brows lift up and he gestures with his glass toward, well, wherever there might be drinks to be had. Even so, he glances toward the Weyrwoman and K'del.
Lord Aughan, suddenly bereft of his niece, takes to weaving through the clustered groups of people to find the Weyrleaders together. Good-looking, in that oil-slick sort of way, a gracious nod is imparted to High Reaches' newest leaders in the series under his singular reign of Crom. "Congratulations," is his grave, single-worded greeting. In his hand, the goblet he holds is lifted in the slightest toast. Oh, is he interrupting?
Tiriana makes a face at K'del's chastising, but after a moment she shrugs. "She's--it's--" She takes a moment to think of the word. "Bittersweet." But that's as far as she gets before Aughan arrives and Tiriana is eyeing her empty glass forlornly herself. "Thank you," she restricts herself to just those words, and an attempt at a polite, cool smile that isn't quite at least one of those.
"Could be worse," Milani tells R'uen and gives his arm a little pat. "Though, /that/ is often what winds up being worse," she says with a tiny nod towards Lord Crom. "If you don't care all that much for wine, what's your poison? There's trays circulating, or the table's just there," she points it out. "If you'd like something stronger. I haven't gotten more than a sip of water yet, and I'd be delighted to get my hands on something with a little more kick. It's a celebration after all, right?"
K'del is mouthing 'bittersweet' right at about the moment Aughan approaches, expression inclined more towards the serious and thoughtful, which makes the smile he pastes on for Lord Crom just that little bit less than genuine. Or, rather, more less than genuine. "Thank you, Lord Aughan," he says, his echoing in just after Tiriana's, his not-yet-empty glass lifted. "We're very proud, of course."
For Tiriana, there's the most passing of glances that then double takes, as if there might be some flicker of recognition. But really, would the Crom Lord recognize a Telgar stablehand to this day? So the second glance Weyrwoman-ward segues into a more solid, smileless look for the Weyrleader. He makes no pretense of those facial niceties, though he'll maintain the exceedingly polite veneer. "I've heard much of both of you from Yuliye. She seems quite enamored with Weyr life much to my chagrin." Though he sounds more pleased than displeased. "And Crom is very proud of /her/ Weyr's accomplishments."
Out on the dance floor, whirled by her able, kind husband, Edeline's laughter rises unchecked for once; at least there's one Lordship pair that seems happy.
R'uen eyes Lord Crom and leans in a bit toward Milani, to continue that hushed conversation. "It's odd, you know. I was Telgar for all that. Strange to be on the other side." It's a thoughtful comment, not that his eyes stay on the Holder long. It's once over Tiriana again and then back to Milani. With his voice brighter, "Let me be your excuse to take some time and enjoy the party. We can drink whatever you like, just point me at it and I'll fetch it for you." A right gentleman. He's also downing what's left of his wine in preparation for something better.
Tiriana looks like she's about to open her mouth and say something smart when Aughan mentions Yuliye and Weyrlife, but she stops herself. She can learn! Instead, trying hard not to smirk, she says, "What can I say, we're a real charming bunch. It's so generous of you to let us borrow her for a while. Thank you. If you'll excuse us, though--. Lots of other guests to attend." She can't get away fast enough.
"Yuliye's a ni--" a nice girl? That seems to be what K'del was about to say, though he cuts himself off as Tiriana excuses them. His expression shifts, tangled between resignation and annoyance, but smoothes out again as he concludes, "But, my Weyrwoman is correct, yes: we really should keep mingling. Perhaps we'll have time for a proper chat later?" Then, he turns about, to head after Tiriana, draining the rest of /his/ glass. "Could've tried a /little/ harder," he mutters, probably loud enough for her to hear.
"The both of you, right?" Milani asks of R'uen, blue-green eyes serious on his face. "And now you have to be mindful of Fort's interests," she murmurs softly. Next though, the headwoman laughs and aims to curl her hand under his elbow. "Let's get something with rum in it then, hm? This way, R'uen. And I can be your excuse for not popping Lord Nabol one," she says with a little wink.
It's only after the Weyrleaders escape his pretty beady, black stare that Aughan finally cracks a smile across the veneer of his flat neutrality. Amused, he looks down into his goblet and swirls what wine's left in there. Sooner or later, Yuliye will find her way to his side once more, of this he's certain. Who knows what she's doing in the mean time, but that's not a pleasant thought for Crom's Lord to dwell on for his favorite little chess piece.
"/His/ Weyr my ass," says Tiriana. "You weren't here when he pulled that stunt with Telgar. I was. Not putting up with him now." And she shoots a glance back toward Crom as they flee him, and she relaxes finally. Time for another drink, maybe one she won't have to gulp this time, but before she can lead K'del far to find one, she's catching a glimpse of familiar reddish hair and pulling him that way. In the midst of all the dignitaries, even Milani's a welcome stopover, and the fact that she's with R'uen is just icing when Tiriana notices him. "Mila--R'uen!" And she lets go of her stronghold on K'del's arm right fast.
"Both of us, yeah. Well, no secret that she's done a good bit of turning around, you know? Rum it is." R'uen might have to let his arm slip from propping up Milani's as he squeezes in to get those rummy drinks, but he catches her hand to keep hold of her, just in case someone tries to steal his escort away. He's just passing the first drink back toward the headwoman and questioning her choice, "Sort of tropical, isn't it?" when Tiriana's voice calls out. He beams over his shoulder at the goldrider and instead of taking the second glass for himself, it's held out in her direction.
K'del, thus pulled, looks a little bit relieved as his arm gets let go of, though his gaze hesitates in glancing at R'uen - and then, more warmly, in Milani's direction. His empty glass is transferred to the other hand, as he notes, albeit belatedly, "Still have to be /civil/, Tiriana. Whatever you think of him." Then, more loudly, "Hey, Milani. R'uen."
"Didn't hit him," says Tiriana, which apparently counts as civil in her book. No more mind for K'del, not when she's got a better escort at hand--and one offering her liquor. She takes the glass quickly, but it's second to scooting in close to R'uen and beaming, Crom forgotten quickly. "They /hatched/," as though everybody didn't already know that.
"Mm, a little, but I suppose I'm in the mood for something bright and cheery," Milani claims as R'uen passes her her drink and she sends a charming smile his way. She turns at the odd combination of names, called out by Tiriana and she turns her smile towards the Weyrwoman. "Tiriana," and just beyond her, K'del. "Congratulations, Weyrleaders," she slips into the formal though her smile for Kas holds a note of sweetness.
R'uen grins and gives Milani's hand a little squeeze and a tug when she turns her pleasant formality on her own Weyrleaders. There's a teasing light in his eye when he smirks at her, just before he lets her hand go. After all, Tiriana is closing in and there are drinks to be juggled. He still needs one for himself. "They hatched. And they're beautiful," he grins at the goldrider, opening a free arm for her to tuck against his side beneath. And, as for having to be civil, whatever one thinks, more appropriate words are rarely spoken and surely that's what's exactly what's going through R'uen's mind as his own glance moves on to the Reaches Weyrleader. "K'del."
K'del opens his mouth, again, but the words just don't come out; probably, there really isn't anything he /can/ effectively say in response to Tiriana's supposed civility. That's probably why his eyes roll ever so slightly at her statement of the obvious: he shakes his head slightly, rueful, whilst returning Milani's smile warmly. Pity that can't last, even though he attempts to keep his smile in place as he glances back at R'uen. "They /are/ beautiful, aren't they? Really nice looking dragons."
Abandoning her Weyrleader for the foreign one, Tiriana settles in at R'uen's side, with a much smaller sip of her drink now that she's away from having to be polite to visitors. She shoots a wary look between the two bronzeriders, though. "They are," she agrees with both; how's that for diplomacy. "Two bronzes, too, did you see? I mean, they picked idiots for riders, but--well, really. What other kind of options /were/ there?"
Milani lifts her glass a little in toast. "Here's to the Reaches' latest successful clutch," she proposes by way of perhaps lightening any tensions. "It ought to be an interesting group of weyrlings," the headwoman offers as an add-on to diplomacy. "They're all very -- dedicated." Once she's spoken her glass tilts and Millie takes a sip of the drink. With Tiriana claiming R'uen she steps a little bit away and more towards K'del.
R'uen wasn't talking to K'del. Does it show in the flatness of his eye? That's the only place it would, since he keeps a light smile neatly on his face. He gives Tiriana a little tug and animates again. "Well, bronzes to have that tendency." The return of a more playful grin seems to include himself in that count. "You'll just have to fogive them." He sneaks a kiss against Tiriana's temple and murmurs something in her ear, but then his attention is back on Milani. And K'del. He lifts his glass for the toast and even offers, "Need a drink, K'del? I can grab one for you."
K'del hands over his empty glass to a passing cavern's worker, and lifts an empty hand, instead, to match Milani's toast. "Absolutely," he agrees, though adds, "Didn't really get to know most of them, but - should be interesting, from what I hear. Cadejoth's enormously proud, of course." As Milani steps in his direction, he offers his arm, silently, and with only the briefest of smiling glances; then, "Oh, well, if you're going?" That's to R'uen. "That'd be great, thanks."
"Whitchek got one," says Tiriana. "You remember him?" She glances up at R'uen for a moment, beams at his whisper. "Don't I?" she says, stepping back just a little, giving her dress half a twirl to show it off as he offers to fetch more drinks. "Knew... lot of them. Especially lately, half of them wanting me to punch them. That one--" and she looks to Milani like the headwoman will know what she's talking about "--got a blue. The one with the foot. what did your dragon do to him?" Because Isforaith? Totally Cadejoth's fault. She eyes K'del hard.
That offered arm is taken, Milani's fingers curling comfortably around K'del's elbow. "With plenty of reason to be proud for both clutchparents," the headwoman says with perhaps relentless optimism. "Isziyo, I didn't catch what he's going to be called as a rider, though I'm sure the names will make the rounds soon."
"The one you scandalized?" R'uen asks, making sure that's the candidate Tiriana means, not that he'd met any others. He only gets to admire the dress for a moment, and then he takes his chance to snag a drink for K'del, handing it over with a lift of his own in a little belated post-toast. His expression might be a touch serious, but hey, he's toasting. And after finally taking a sip of his rum-soaked drink, "It's a wonder it doesn't happen more, isn't it? Cramped up in those eggs the way they are, I'm surprised more of them don't come out sort of... bent out of shape. Think it'll straighten out?"
"/Whitchek/," repeats K'del, who has evidently heard something about that particular candidate. "But I'm with Millie: definitely plenty of reason to be proud." He accepts his drink from R'uen with a genuine smile, twisting it thoughtfully with his fingers rather than drinking, just yet, and adds, "Cadejoth, I swear, did nothing. He wasn't even on the sands until this week, and they were hard, then. R'uen's right, just one of those things that happens, maybe. Bet he'll be fine."
With a briefly unfocused gaze, Tiriana supplies, "Z'yi. Where the hell he got--." But she shakes her head, brushes it off, and glances back at K'del. "I don't care. He did /something/. That clumsy..." Deep breaths. And a look at R'uen as she notes, "It does not just happen. They don't just... come out screwed up." She'll pout about it, too, and take another long drink.
"I suppose the weyrlingmaster will have more news about that, the paw, in a little while," Milani says, still with the hopeful and her hand tucks in under K'del's elbow a little more. Tiriana's petulance is, perhaps wisely, ignored. "At least it's nice and short, Z'yi. Isziyo was always a little bit of a trip-over name," the headwoman confesses with a wry turn to her smile. "As for Whitchek ... I hope that Impression might open his eyes a little, though on a bronze, it might be validation of his ideas about things. But who knows, weyrlinghood tends to bring out things that you might not always expect in a person."
R'uen must know it's coming, Tiriana's pout; he's grinning, a little at K'del even, before the goldrider's grumping comes out. "Maybe it was one of those lousy candidates," he'll offer out for her benefit. "The idiot bronzeriders." But, more seriously he asks Milani, "Validation of his ideas?" He might have an inkling, since he did bump into Whitchek once, but his brows are up with interest anyway.
K'del transfers his glass to the other hand so that he can rest one on Milani's arm in return for a quick squeeze. The fact that R'uen is grinning at him seems to help enough that he doesn't outright snark at Tiriana in response, and instead, merely shrugs his shoulders. "Someone was telling me," he puts in, "that Mikandros' mother walked out when he Impressed. M'kan? M'kandros? Whatever." Of Whitchek, he can only add, "He'll learn. Got to, surely. Now that he's part of us. The weyr, I mean."
"You got him on a good night," says Tiriana, wrinkling up her nose. "He just ran away when I kissed you, instead of jumping up and yelling something about how I'm a brazen hussy who might as well just fuck you right there in the galleries." She can't decide whether to snicker or roll her eyes in disgust, it would seem; the expression she makes is a little of both. Another pause; then, "K'ndro. I swear, these people--Iovniath won't stop talking about them all, over and over." Sigh.
"My impression overall is that he'd like to see the Weyr run more like a Hold," Milani says lightly enough, giving K'del's arm a little encouraging squeeze of her own before she takes another sip from her drink. "As for Mikaela ... I'm not surprised. She -- doesn't approve," Millie says softly, a little crinkle forming in her forehead. "K'ndro?" That seems to give her some pause and her head shakes. "Interesting," is murmured softly before she rallies a bit, looks up at K'del. "I guess we'll see at the far end of weyrlinghood if Whit -- W'chek, Tiriana? -- feels that way."
R'uen makes a face at Tiriana like he's trying very hard not to laugh at the way she just lays it all out, just like that, while so dressed up in the middle of this very nice party. In the end, the laugh does come out, with a cough for preamble. "Well, you did offer," he reminds her. The laugh still hangs in his expression a bit, as he nods to Milani. "He mentioned about being a holder. And something about having a girl?"
K'del, dryly, "Oh no, fucking your own weyrmate. Weirdo." W'chek, not Tiriana. Unless he's being sarcastic. Either way. Certainly, R'uen's remark on her offering makes him smirk. "Hate to hear that," he continues, of Mikaela and K'ndro. "Hope she'll come around. Like W'chek will. " He transfers his glass back, so that he can take a sip from it, swirling the liquid in his mouth before swallowing it.
W'chek has arrived.
Tiriana confirms, a couple of beats later, "W'chek, yeah. Sane one, at least. And Zhikath's the bronze." R'uen gets a long sideways look, just a little smirk. "Well. So what if I did." It pleases her, and that smirk's aimed at K'del, too, as she leans just that much more into her own bronzerider's side. Nyah. "Who, his girl? That wilting little healer?" she says then, with a snort. "They deserve each other, I think."
"Hopefully," Milani echoes K'del with a little wry smile. "He's been courting Madilla, the healer, yes" the headwoman explains about the having a girl then she blinks once at Kas' vulgar language in the middle of a hatching party and shoots him a little 'wtf?' type look. Tiriana's remarks earn a drawn breath from Milani though. "It's been nice seeing her smile. Though of course she's only an apprentice and now he's a weyrling so there'll be some waiting."
R'uen catches that look that Milani gives K'del and, well, that does make him grin, though he pulls his own foul-mouthed partner in closer when she leans. And if he smiles, well, that's his camaraderie with Milani, not the presence of an unspoken 'nyah' happening under his arm. "From the sounds of him, there'd be some waiting either way. So there's him, the blue with weird foot, the guy with the angry... mother, was it? Sounds like quite a group." He'll drink to that.
K'del, guiltily, ducks his head under Milani's censure, though his glance half shoots in Tiriana's direction. She started it! But, more importantly: "/Madilla/. Shells. Always assumed someone would have to, like, negotiate with her Journeyman or something before you could get close. Suppose if he's like that, though... If she's happy. Be a long wait, though, poor guy." How clear is it that K'del hasn't had a lot of interaction with W'chek? Very clear, that's how. "Don't know much about the others," he puts in, in response to R'uen, "but sure does sound like it." They're standing not far from the drinks, amidst the hustle and bustle of the party.
So, the dragons are sound asleep, and despite looking kind of train-wrecked tired himself, W'chek has been doing the social thing with a fairly sizable group of people, all of whom are dressed like backwater holders. It takes awhile for him to disentangle himself from what seem to be a succession of huddled man-to-man talks. All that important advice to give. He's an important guy now. Well, more important than Whitchek-the-candidate was. Look, there are even a whole lot of very important people talking about him. Wait, what? He's really just passing by on the way to get something to ease this whole process. Not eavesdropping. At all. It's just--"Um, hi?" You know, he's standing right there. Might as well be polite.
"He'll have his own weyr soon enough," Tiriana says, giving both Milani and K'del funny looks. "Not /that/ long. Even if she is, technically, an apprentice." Beat. "Oh. Hi, W'chek." She's not one bit embarrassed to have been caught talking about his personal business, and gives him only a cursory once-over before she says, rather proudly considering, "And Betegal got a little green."
And we should be encouraging Tiriana? Milani's fingers press again againts K'del's arm. "A long time waiting for both of them," the headwoman echoes again with a little wry look. Long time waiting might be something that some in the little cluster of Weyrleaders and one headwoman might understand. She answers that grin of R'uen's with a little hint of mischief in her eyes. "Yes. Ajatha is from Ista and her mother is a weyrlingmaster at Southern, no less, and let's see Isziyo - er, Z'yi and Betegal are both native sons, so to speak. I grew up with Betegal in the caverns here before he apprenticed at the Smith Hall." And there's Whit himself. "Congratulations, W'chek," Milani offers sincerely and lifts her glass his way with a little nod and a warm enough smile.
"It's a long wait," R'uen agrees with the majority, giving a vaguely 'are you mad?' look to Tiriana. He skips the 'oh hi' when the new weyrling turns up, even if it's written on his face. It's only there for a beat anyway before he grins a bit more broadly. "Congratulations," he tells the young man. "How's it feel?" Like W'chek hasn't been asked that a thousand times already. Meanwhile, that Tiriana is gloating over any candidate in particular has him tossing a curious glance in her direction.
Point taken. At least, K'del's managed to look actually apologetic and not just guilty, as Milani presses those fingers down. "Wouldn't be back there for the world," he reflects, on the waiting. "Can you see Madilla breaking that kind of rule? No." He's silent throughout the continued discussion of who got what and how, and, unlike Tiriana, looks at least a little abashed when W'chek speaks up. "Er-- yes, congratulations, W'chek. He's asleep?"
"B'tal," Tiriana will absently correct Milani on that front now, though mention of Ajatha makes her scowl. "She taught my daddy. Well, didn't teach much, just was on the team. Don't think anybody really taught /him/." And she lifts her chin, just a little prideful of that. As for getting shot down, re: Madilla and W'chek rule-breaking? She just huffs, scowls, offers a lame, "Congratulations."
The old Whitchek--and the person W'chek will probably go back to being after he's had a good night's sleep, for that matter--would manage some kind of angry retort about Madilla's virtue. This version is too tired, although still scowly. "He's asleep. Out cold, I think. Wish he'd wake up, it'd get me out of here." A glance back at that crowd of presumably-family. "It feels like I've had the crap beaten out of me. I can *feel* him sleeping in my head. How exhausted he is. And then how exhausted I am, and I'm expected to be sociable? Only if I don't, *they* won't forgive me. Some of the others had the right idea. Just fell asleep with 'em."
"B'tal," Milani echoes Tiriana as if she's committing each of these new names to memory every time the Weyrwoman provides one. "And no, I can't see Madilla doing much rule-breaking," she agrees with K'del with a small smile. Her glass lifts, more rummy drink with tropical juice taken. And there's W'chek being very blunt. "I hope you get some good rest tonight when you're able," Millie keeps up with the sincere. "And that he's not up and down too much."
"Not for the world," R'uen agrees. "Twice was enough." Oh, but with W'chek still reeling from that new sensation of a dragon in his head, Rev can't help but grin. "Yeah, you probably won't stop feeling exhausted for a couple of months. I didn't, at least. Might as well get used to it. I'd offer you a drink but..." But he's too busy rubbing it in.
K'del bypasses further comment on Madilla - perhaps W'chek's scowl has given him pause? - to instead suggest, "/Could/ just tell them he's woken up, and hightail it away. They won't have to know, and no one else will care. It's an excellent excuse for getting out of things, as I recall. It's a weird time, the early days." He makes it sound like he remembers only vaguely, from a lifetime away. "Nice to have your family here, though, I bet." Look at K'del, looking mildly rueful, like SOME families never made the effort.
"Just say he woke up," Tiriana agrees with K'del, no problems with lying for her. "Or--hell." She shoots a glance around toward the people he's been hanging around with, all those family types. "You want me to run them off? I'll send 'em all home. No messing with my weyrlings. Not like you need /them/, you've got the Weyr now." Which is totally better than family. Right.
Another glance back. "No. Uh--no," W'chek says very quickly to the Weyrwoman. "Don't need your help. I can handle it." Bit of a sigh. "Just needed to get away for a few minutes. Let them waste some of that enthusiasm on each other if they have to. Would think this was all their idea from the way they're talking now. Like they knew it. Not like they came to see me fail and haul me off home." He manages a half-smile for R'uen. "Drinking got me into this mess, I can pass on any more of it right now." Even if it's clear from the way he says it that 'this mess' is no longer a wholly bad thing.
Milani tilts a little look sidelong at K'del, brows flickering with something, maybe amusement because of those tips for ducking out the Weyrleader is sharing. "I'm glad they made it W'chek," she continues to echo K'del somewhat. "Though I'm sure it'll be a relief too not to be on the spot quite so much," she offers by way of compromise between things and finishes off her drink.
The tug of R'uen's arm around Tiriana's waist is meant to distract her and hopefully keep her from randomly attacking W'chek's unsuspecting family. Like Milani, he knocks back the last of his drink and turns to set it aside. "Well, good luck with your mess," he grins to the weyrling. And to goldrider he mentions, "I think I'm gonna turn in." Then everyone else gets the bob of his head. "Milani, a pleasure as always. K'del. W'chek, congratulations again."
K'del must catch Milani's glance, because he turns his head to smile, saint-like, at her. Perfect weyrling, he was, really! Except that the smile gets drawn out into a much broader grin, which stays in place as he notes, to W'chek, "Guess they won't be doing any dragging, now. Anyway, imagine they can't stay for too long, and then you'll be free again." Pause. "Well, as free as a weyrling is, I guess. Which isn't very. Good night, R'uen. Nice to see you again." It /sounds/ genuine enough.
"You sure?" And Tiriana sounds like she's actually trying to be helpful, glancing from W'chek to his family and back. She sighs, though, and doesn't go after them; instead, she glances at R'uen, frowns. "I... I should stay," she says, with a reluctant glance over the party. "I have to stay. --Not even one dance?" She pouts.
"Mm." W'chek does not sound at all in agreement with this business of being glad they made it, even going so far as to angle briefly around behind the taller K'del at one point when glances turn in that direction--it's nice having so many giants at this Weyr, it really is. Especially if you're seriously avoidant. "They're leaving tonight. I think. I don't think they can all possibly stay, and I think they have transit lined up already. I just need to survive until then... 'Night," tacked onto the end, with a distracted nod to the Fortian Weyrleader.
"Likewise, R'uen," Milani wishes sincerely with a nod of her head. "And a good night to you," she says, model of headwomanly politesse. Tiriana's continued questionable behavior elicits a brief press of Millie's lips then she's moving to put her glass down, empty to perhaps cover that reaction. "We are a little short on guest accomodations, but there's no lack of riders on transport duty," Millie supplies with a smile for W'chek. "The weather isn't exactly lending itself to sticking around either, what with the snow and all."
"Stay," R'uen tells Tiriana, pulling her in for another peck. "Dance if you have to. I'll help Zaiventh keep her company until you're done." Then he lets her go and gives everyone a quick wave before he makes good on his plan.
"We won't keep her up too long," promises K'del, glancing at R'uen as the Fortian Weyrleader leaves. Realistically, though, most of his attention is focused upon W'chek, the lucky weyrling. "Not too long to have to deal, then," he grins. "You'll do fine." He looks amused at the way W'chek angles around him, though he doesn't comment on it, instead asking: "You're coping all right, otherwise? It's a... an adjustment. Suppose it's still too soon to really have your head around it."
Tiriana might be sulking, but that's no excuse for just a peck. So before R'uen goes, she catches him and gets herself a proper kiss, then watches him disappear with a lingering frown. She turns grudgingly back to conversation at hand. "Like you're my guardian?" she tells K'del, just a little smart. But only a little bit. It's been a long day. "Don't know why the families all want to just mob you as soon as you get here, anyway. You'd think they'd get it, you don't want to get swarmed by everybody on down to third cousins after this kind of day."
R'uen has left.
"He's been asleep," says W'chek, like that's an explanation for how he's coping. Then: "We'll see... when he wakes up. I don't know." But then, from Tiriana, the first sensible thing he's heard from her... possibly ever. "I don't know. I didn't even think they were coming. Then I see my parents this morning and they're all saying it was supposed to be a *surprise*. I don't like surprises." Well, possibly excepting today's big one.
"Everyone gets excited around a Hatching," Milani says evenly, "after all it's a once in a lifetime thing all around, isn't it?" She smiles at both Weyrwoman and weyrling, then leans up to drop a kiss to K'del's cheek. "I should go check to make sure everything's running smoothly." Turning back to the others she nods politely. "Tiriana, again congratulations on a fine clutch to you and Iovniath, W'chek on your fine new lifemate." She gently withdraws her hand from K'del's arm. "K'del, I hope Cadejoth is very proud. Good evening." So saying the headwoman steps away to see to the whole keep the food and drink flowing thing.
"No," says K'del, to Tiriana. "Like-- I don't know. Like we're friendly, and look out for each other after long, exhausting days." It comes out with more of a bite than perhaps he intended it to, a flash of apology lingering there for a moment, though it can't linger: there's Milani's peck to consider. "'Course," he agrees, smiling down at her, his arm lingering against hers for a moment. He's glancing after her so fondly that it takes him a moment to add, to W'chek, "Right, of course. Guess you'll see. Enjoy it, though. These first days. They fly past like nothing else."
"My gran, half a dozen each aunts and uncles and all their kids..." Just thinking back on the crowd she rated makes Tiriana grimace. "And my daddy," who apparently gets a whole special category of his own. And who is, also, apparently, coming up right behind her: a tall older man with white-blonde hair and a smirk the exact match of Tiriana's, who loiters nearby shooting and watches her, though she's oblivious. "Good thing," Tiriana tells K'del in the meantime. "Weyrlinghood's boring as everything. Never let us do anything at Telgar. You guys got off easy."
"I don't think--" Pause. "Boring might be nice," W'chek finally manages to say. "After everything. Get back to just... work and sleep and meals instead of worrying all the time." He can say that now. Fair bet he'll be back to the worrying by morning. "I know it'll probably go too fast, but at least it won't be candidacy all over again. At least... now we know. For better or for worse."
Milani goes home.
Milani has left.
"My niece was born around about hatching day," shrugs K'del, which is a pretty sad thing in comparison to W'chek and Tiriana, especially when he says, "So no one came, though they were going to. Didn't matter; /I/ didn't care." Right. Sure. His lifted gaze has caught sight of Tiriana's father, which is particularly obvious given the way he flicks his gaze from one to the other, comparing. What he says next, however, is, "Right. You know. It'll drag on eventually, though. Even if apparently mine was less boring than Tiriana's." Which he seems to doubt.
"A baby's more important than you impressing bronze," and Tiriana snorts, shaking her head. "Babies happen all the time. Loads of people have /them/. Families are stup--" She breaks off abruptly, because K'del's shifting gaze has her attention, and she turns to see what he's looking at. And Sh'drian just smirks, swaggers over to meet them. "Aren't they just," he agrees. "Weyrleader?" Really? He doesn't quite say it, but to be sure, the suggestion's there in the long look he takes over the much younger bronzerider I see I just missed your headwoman, too. Shame." And he glances from K'del after Milani and back, lifts a brow. "You don't mind if I steal your Weyrwoman." Statement, not question, as he slides a possessive arm around Tiriana. Her jaw tightens.
"It's not," W'chek manages to say to K'del, "really as nice as it sounds like. I wish they'd just go. I really do. I thought I wanted them here, at first, but now..." He shakes his head, eyes Tiriana. "Of course babies happen all the time, but it's not like there aren't plenty of hatchings, too. Really... kind of the same thing, isn't it? Babies. Either way. Just some bigger'n others." But he stays out of any of this business with the new stranger; more strangers aren't within the realm of what he can really process at the moment.
"/They/ didn't know I'd Impressed bronze," K'del says, defending his family, though there's an implication, there: /he/ knew. Or thought he knew. "Difference in hatchings where you someone you love is Impressing, though. Take your point on family, anyway. My sister wanted to come to see this one, but..." He shakes his head. His drink has been sitting in his hand, not yet finished, for some time; he takes a moment here to drink it, which is right about the point when Sh'drian approaches. K'del is not at his best, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Pause. "Weyrleader. Imagine she'll go with you if she wants to, or otherwise, not; not in charge of her." No comment on Milani. /His/ lips have tightened, too.
"No," Sh'drian agrees lightly. "I didn't suppose you were." But for all that, the question's still not really put to Tiriana, and Sh'drian steps away like he expects her to follow. Which she still, somehow, does. "Excuse me," she says briefly. "I'll see you later." And she leaves then in the escort of her father, off toward some more out-of-the-way spot in the caverns for what is--on her part at least--likely to become a very animated conversation.