[Log] Intelligence of a Vtol, Memory of a Masterharper: A Debt Goes Unfulfilled

[brazenbronzer]

Who: C'len, L'sen, Morowen, Rachiel, Satiet, Shaylar, Suraiya, Thiana
When: Day 17, Month 3, Turn 7, 11th Interval
Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
What: High Reaches Weyr hosts a dinner for its candidates. L'sen and C'len eat the Weyr out of house and home, and when Satiet repeatedly refuses, L'sen settles for dancing with Shaylar and Suraiya.

Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
     The impressive living cavern is seemingly as large as the bowl that cradles the hatching sands. Rivers of polished wood tables and benches arrow towards a raised platform crowned with a compact version of their sturdy design. Neatly crafted pegs, some fancifully carved, are tapped into holes in the wall and support clothing dangling like lazy sleepers. Woven baskets, both useful and decorative, hang along another wall. Tiny bouquets of the first hardy flowers are crammed into jars and mugs, dotting the tables with their pastel colors and light fragrance. The faint, musty aroma of wet wool mingles with that of spice. Banners worked with the designs of Holds and Halls beholden to the weyr cascade down the walls high above, interspersed with several brilliantly colored tapestries. Small groups gather here and there in the cavern, relaxing over a snack of freshly baked goodies as they cheerfully gossip.

A flutter of activity indicates some last minute preparations, mostly food transferring from the kitchens to the buffet tables, though there are some assistant headwomen fiddling with the table decorations and sweeping cautious looks to and fro - it's almost as if the fear of getting in trouble is the emotion written in their face.

In a corner dais, the soft thrum of gitars being tuned and the scales of a vocalist warming up are faint, joining in the slow growing hubbub of activity.

Satiet
     Satiet is slight and compact in build, overall figure slender and toned with muscles, especially along her arms. Her face is thin, almost sharply so, and its saving graces are the high cheekbones that taper into a gentle point at the chin. There's no doubt many may find her attractive, if only for the excess amount of confidence that exudes in the pride of her general posture, and the aloof hold of her chin. She appears to be in her late teens, though hints of maturity are here and there in the ice cold depths of her blue eyes. Raven hair has been pulled out of her face, a few curls let loose to frame and soften her features, the tiny slips of braids running up from the nape of her neck to be caught in an loose twist that drapes braidlets over a silver pin. A set of lengthy bangs sweeps across one side of her face, dark against the cream of her complexion.
     Smoky black curves down Satiet's hips and legs, flaring towards the bottom in a swirl of excess material. The fabric is airy, with a sisal undersheath, and threaded through with glints of metallic silver threading, enough to be noticeable with glints of light, not quite so much to be distracting. Belted at the waist, the buckle wide, a shirt of the same material is tucked in, lying flat against her torso. The cut of the blouse is flattering to her figure, a simple V neck-line beginning at the ridges where shoulder meets arm, falling to a modest level. In the hollow provided, the ivory skin is offset by a silver snowflake pendant, simple in design, with a clear blue jewel as its focal point. On her feet are a pair of polished black boots, a shade darker than her attire. The loops of black and dark blue on her shoulder designates her as a weyrwoman at High Reaches; the pale cream-white gold thread intertwined in the ropes indicating the color of her lifemate.

L'sen
     In his late teens now, L'sen is a tall, bulky lad, solidly built. Having reached the height of 6'3", he's saved from any gawkiness or ranginess by a generous amount of muscle. His hair is shaggy sun-streaked blonde, eyes a faded blue; he has the tanned skin of an outdoorsman. L'sen's face is open and honest, with strong, masculine features and a line of straight, white teeth, often displayed in a broad grin.
     Like most 19-turn-old males, L'sen doesn't consider fashion a high priority. His clothes are plain and functional, work-worn from the toils of his life. He wears the knot of a High Reaches bluerider with the patch of Avalanche wing.

Morowen
     A tall lanky man with deep brown hair, and eyes that change color almost the same as those of a dragon. They form a focal point in his slightly oval face, with well groomed hair cut close to his head, and a smile always playing at the edge of his mouth. When he talks there is a slight Bitran accent betraying his place of birth, but it is now early unnoticable.
     He is wearing a simple tunic of a dark blue that fits neatly over his thin body, and long trousers of a light brown. also a candidate knot of black and blue with a white thread sits on his sholder. around his waist is a small belt of leather with a swirling design carved directly into it, and a beautiful buckle that must have cost almost a turns worth of work to buy. On his feet are simple, but practical boots of wherhide with leather bindings, that look tough but comfortable. he is 22 Turns, 5 months, and 2 days old.

Rachiel
     At first glance you see her dark brown hair, with her dark blue eyes darting here and there. On her right wrist is a dark red birthmark that looks as if a child from the lower caverns bit her, and on her left hand, is a long scar. Her height is 4'11'', and her age is 17 Turns, 3 months, and 3 days.
     Today she wears brown breeches and a green shirt. Around her neck are two necklaces, both with the same green colored stone, with silver wire around them to hold them onto the black cords. On her shoulder is a knot in the black and blue colors of HRW, with a white thread indicating her status of Candidate.

C'len wanders in from the tunnel to the bowl.
C'len has arrived.

C'len
     Not a sizeable man in body or demeanor, he's more gangly than sturdy. Cropped dirty blonde hair frames an oblong face dominanted by light brown eyes, a contrast to his olive skin. Faint wrinkles, a result of too much time in the sun, line his face and draw attention from his narrow nose and square jaw line.
     He's clad in simple garb, though it's all well-made. A dark shade of green colors his short-sleeved shirt. Black pants fall to short, scuffed boots of the same color. The knot on his shoulder is threaded through with a touch of bronze, showing his position as a rider at High Reaches Weyr.

Dark blue and white cloth twist together to decorate the walls, simple fabric and decorations that lend just the slightest bit of festivity to the Weyr. In favor of ornaments, there are slender, tapered candles at each table, held fast in antique-seeming holders, where at the base are little garlands of holly. Some of the tables have been pushed closer to clear a small space for mingling or dancing as the night may allow, as well as a small dias for the Weyr's posted contingent of harpers. The scents of cinnamon-rubbed roasts and grilled vegetables lift in the air to mingle with the sounds of jovial laughter from the slowly growing crowd. Drink pours liberally (and early), though not of any particularly good vintage, and the drudges make their rounds.

C'len steps in quietly from the bowl, the better to take in the decorations and sudden activity in the living caverns--and to enjoy, inhaling deepy of, the scent of roasts and vegetables. Those smells cause a growl in his stomach, though it's soft, perhaps his stomach's attempt at being polite, and a quick smack of his lips, always ready to attend any occasion that warrants a spread such as this.

From the kitchens, a rare smile curving her lips and attired in a simple gown of dark red, Satiet emerges. The raven locks of her hair have been pinned up and back with silver clips, and with purpose, she makes her way through the crowd, finding a place that's advantageous to her slight height to see the comings and goings. At her side, an assistant stands, looking a bit worn for the day's work, but pleased as well, and the young weyrwoman spares the older woman a briefer, thin smile, "Good work. You should enjoy yourself tonight, and forget about work tomorrow morning."

Suraiya strides in from the tunnel to the bowl.
Suraiya has arrived.

Suraiya
     Fair skinned, reddish-blonde, and tall are the first things seen on this young woman. Another quick feature to spot is the fact that a woman she is. Her tall frame is slender, not too overly slim, and well endowed; her curves matching almost proportionally even at a young age. Her oval face is smooth-skinned and unblemished, with not one freckle marking it. A small round childish nose contrasts with the girl's icy almond-shaped eyes and full lips. Strawberry blonde locks have just passed her shoulders, cut into layers with the shortest strands cupping around her chin.
     Suraiya's long legs are covered with rough hide trousers, lined with a bit of burdenbeast fur for the colder days of High Reaches Weyr, and left to its natural tawny coloring. Her leathers look worn in, several stains finding their way onto them. Her upper half is decorated with a brighter blue skin-tight shirt under a trouser-matching jacket of tan leather. Her ensemble is finished off with mid-calf black boots and a shoulder knot of black and blue with an added green thread signifying herself as a High Reaches Rider to a green lifemate.
     She looks around the age of 18 Turns, 2 months, and 25 days.

L'sen enters with a smug smile, dressed in fine clothes and strutting along like he owns the world. He grins and heads for the food first, though a familiar face distracts him. He pauses for a animated conversation with one of the candidates from the Hold he knows, then moves on, waving at a couple of others. Then: "C'len, hey!" L'sen hails the bronzerider, as he heads for the serving tables.

C'len gets in line just after L'sen, unless one of the aunties shoos him away to let candidates go in front of him, since it is their dinner. "L'sen, hey, how's it going?" The bronzerider is dressed more casually than the bluerider, but still his shirt and pants are newly cleaned and boots just-polished. "Sure looks like a good feast tonight," he says softly, mostly under his breath.

After a moment of satisfied observation, Satiet makes her way down from her vantage point and begins to make her way through the crowd, pausing to consider C'len, and manage an acknowledging nod, and spying L'sen by the chance that the blue and bronzeriders are heading the direction she's leaving. The groan that doesn't gain voice speaks volumes in her pale eyes, but still, that fixed pleasantness doesn't waver too much. "Don't eat us out of food, the two of you." Teasing? Perhaps, though there's a serious concern in the goldrider's eyes as she shifts past on her way towards some of the candidates: a lanky man with dark hair. "Morowen, was it?"

Recently washed, Suraiya strides in with purpose. Sweets. And mingling with the crowd of course. She has donned her old skirts and a wide-collared shirt, even though the weather is still chilly. She pulls her damp hair to one side, waving to the faces that she recognizes, and slowly making her way towards the food. A toothly grin is offered to L'sen and C'len as she approaches the pair. "G'evening."

Morowen smiles nervously at Satiet, "Yes, that's me, looks like its going to be quite the evening." Then remembering his manners he quickly adds "ma'am." He grins down to her with a nervous excitment that looks almost childish on his face.

Shaylar strides in from the tunnel to the bowl.
Shaylar has arrived.

Shaylar
     Vibrant green eyes look out from under thick, dark lashes in a pixie-like face framed with dark auburn curls. If you can get a smile out of Shaylar, you'll notice a dimple in her right cheek. She's on the short side of petite, standing only five feet in her stockings and doesn't look to be long past the need for teaching songs. At about 14 turns, she's still a little awkward and not quite done growing. Her clothes are bright and simple, a yellow tunic and a bright red sweater with red-brown leggings and plain, travel-worn boots. She wears a polished wooden bracelet inset with carved green jade runners and a matching jade pendant.

"It's good," answers L'sen. "It's a good day. How 'bout you 'n' Vildaeth? Hiya, Suri. How're you an' Ozzy now?" He peers between his two weyrlingmates curiously, all the while piling a plate high with the offerings of the kitchens. "Y'all met any of the candidates yet? I know a couple of them, but that's about it, you know?"

"Did some baking with some of them last night," C'len remarks. As for Satiet's comment, his only reply is a grin and wink, as he, too, fills his plate. But there's still plenty left for everyone else, until the pair come around for seconds later, anyway. "I mean, they helped in the kitchen, I didn't bake the candidates." As if it needed further explanation. "We made some cookies."

Rachiel sits quietly at a table, watching the people coming and going.

Shaylar slips into the cavern, looking freshly scrubbed. She slips over next to Rachiel and smiles, "Did I miss anything? I had Feeding Ground cleanup. I HAD to take a long, hot bath."

For a moment, Satiet looks as if she's about to say something and then halts herself by gnawing on her lower lip. "Mmm," she responds noncommittally at first, favoring Morowen with a glance over. "It's only a dinner, and other candidates will continue to come in, but there comes a point," she begins, "When it's nice, I suppose, to welcome those new to the Weyr. A rite of passage, or at least it's the Weyr making an attempt to make a lot of the folk Searched from outside feel more at ease. Something special." A belated realization that she's babbling draws out a quick frown. "In any case, you should get in line for food before it's all gone. I wouldn't put it past to our two boy wonders to clean the cavern out."

Suraiya focuses on filling her plate with small portions, making sure to take a much-needed bubbly before she leaves. "Much better," she replies to L'sen. "Thank Faranth it's only a stage of hers, 'cause I wouldn't be enjoying this dinner then." Her eyes roam the room for the white-knots, though she still speaks to her fellow riders, "I know those from last candidacy.. An' a few new faces 'ere an' there. I say Ozzy can remember better than I can, sometimes." Her gaze ends at Rachiel, and she waves at the old face, heading in that direction to find a place to sit.

As the crowd grows, so too does the noise, but still above it all is the distinctly audible simple melody line of instrumentalists providing a more soothing background for this dinner.

Shaylar takes heed of Satiet's warning and jumps up to visit the tables. She is obviously hungry, because she piles her plate high and then balances a bowl on top of that. Then she moves to the beverage tables and pours herself a mug of juice, one handed no less, and then does a balancing act back to the tables. She manages to get back without losing more than a little sloshed juice. She flashes C'len a grin, "So, you made cookies?"

Rachiel waves back at Suraiya and looks over to Shaylar, "Hi. No, I don't think you missed anything."

L'sen grins at C'len. "You made cookies? And didn't bring me none? That's just, like, cruel. What kind were they? Not those nutty little ones, with all the spices, was it? Those are my favorite," he notes sadly. But, popping a bite of food in his mouth, he cheers back up, heading for a seat and talking over his shoulder to Suraiya. "I'm glad. She was kinda snappish, you know? Oh, Rachiel! Hiya. I didn't know you were standing again--and hi, um. Um. I know you," he tells Shaylar, unable to put a name to face. Not that he worries long about it: he calls quickly to Satiet, "Stop talking about me. Don't listen to her, she lies!" The latter, entirely good-natured warning to Morowen.

C'len follows the pack, not having the energy this evening to diverge much, and flops into a seat after carefully, neatly, placing his plate on the table. "The first batch didn't turn out so great," the rider admits to L'sen. "Although you might've liked them--" given the bluerider's penchant for eating, well, even the Senior Weyrwoman's baking. "Took some to wing practice this morning and then they were all gone." He nods to Shaylar, "Recipe worked better once we, uh, used the correct ingredients."

Shaylar looks relieved at Rachiel's reassurance and digs into her meal. She grins at C'len after she swallows a bite and nods, "Yeah, ingredients are important...Oh, I'm Shaylar," she says for L'sen's benefit, not in the least put out.

Satiet just looks at Morowen - this is no face of a liar, or the face of one that's entirely too good at lying. "L'sen will eat just about anything. Somewhat like you," the young woman calls over, easing into the social situation dictated by the night. "Except perhaps he's more extreme." There's a pause before she takes a few steps over to the serving tables to put together her own plate. "L'sen is," the teasing comment shared with Morowen in the false whisper that is designed so others -will- in fact hear it, "Charitably, big-boned."

Rachiel smiles at L'sen, and nods at C'len, "Be glad that you weren't there for the first batch of cookies..." Is said to L'sen.

"It's only once in awhile, so I s'pose I can deal with her being all snappy an' all. S'long as it's mostly directed at Tiqueth an' not me." Suraiya says as she sits between Rachiel and her old clutchmates, making sure to listen in to the conversation around her. She picks her tart first among the rest of the food, nibbling at the edge. Between bites she looks to the entering candidates. "'Lo there, Shaylar," even though it was not for her. "Not sure I've met ya either. Probably did, but can't recall much."

Shaylar finishes off a bubbly, quite obviously BEFORE she touches most of her regular food and licks juice from her fingers, which she wriggles at Suraiya, "Hi, well met and its okay. I've got eight sibs. My own parents forget my name sometimes."

"You should make me s'more," urges L'sen to C'len. "As, like, a really, really late graduation present. Or an early birthday present, that's in a couple of months, you know? I'm nearly twenty." He beams proudly at that random comment, before turning that cheery grin on Shaylar. "Shay, right, got it," he tells her blithely. "Were the cookies really that bad? Because I think I'd probably like them, you know?" To Satiet and Morowen, he adds then, "I think... Are you calling me fat again, Satiet? Because you've done that before, you know what I mean? And hey, Suri--why's she not like Tiqueth at all? I mean, I'd figure what with you 'n' Sari being like you are..." A shrug.

Morowen grins lopsidedly halfway towards humour and halfway towards nervousness. The friendly teasing between the riders is at best, making Morowen look confused as whether to laugh or just back out and blendin with the crowd. To save further

Morowen strides through the archway, into the lower caverns.
Morowen has left.

As Morowen blends into the crowd, the dark-haired woman looks vaguely discomforted. "And here I thought I was practically a fuzzy doll today," Satiet murmurs audibly, a chagrinned look spared the people near by. Soon after, with a plate that's half-filled in hand, the young weyrwoman makes her way across towards Suraiya and the court she holds. "I heard Ozriadasoth finally put you out of misery?" For L'sen's fat worries, she doesn't have much more to say.

C'len begins to dive into his food, partaking of the roast and veggies and everything else, bit by bit. "I can make you cookies, man," he says to L'sen. "In fact, I have this new recipe from my da that I've been wanting to try out. Maybe next rest day?" Having forgotten a drink, the rider pauses in his inhaling of his meal to collect one, then settles back into his seat. "Eat up," he says to a passing candidate, identified by the white knot. "It's not everyday we get food this good!"

Suraiya giggles at Shaylar's comment. "I've been confused, but never had that problem... I promise to recall your name, though. Shay.. Shaylar." See, she got it. She goes back to savoring her bubbly awhile longer until its gone and she's left with cleaning her sticky fingers. "Sari an' I aren't exactly alike.. An' Ozzy finds Tiq funny but he doesn't like 'er. Jus' happened, I s'pose." Satiet's arrival seems to startle her. She blinks up at the weyrwoman, confused. "Oh?" She asks, and then it clicks. "About her rising? Oh, yes, she has. She's back to her own self at last."

Shaylar kicks one of a pair of candidates under the table. The two boys, in the middle of whispering and pointing at one of the younger, smaller candidates, who was formerly a mute drudge who spoke for the first time when a green dragon searched her. Then she goes back to her meal without a word to the boys, but they quiet down and bend over their meal. She gives Suraiya a warm smile, "Nice to know it, ma'am."

L'sen eyes Satiet dubiously, but shrugs. Proudly, he notes, "Neiveth caught her." Wasting no more time, he digs into the meal with as much relish as C'len. "I guess so," he agrees with Suraiya through a mouthful of food. Swallowing, he adds, "I still can't tell the two of you apart half the time, though. Oh, well. I guess y'all can be as different as, like, me and my brother--we're nothing alike, really. Or not much, anyway." Pause. "Next rest day, I'll hold you to it."

Ears everywhere and eyes on the back of her head. "Good." Uninvited, Satiet plants her plate on the table, and slips into a seat near Shaylar and Suraiya. "And how are you this evening?" Coolly interested, the weyrwoman studies Shaylar, a fork poised to bring a mouthful of carrot to her lips, and after she pops it in and chews, turns to smile faintly at L'sen. "Congratulations, bluerider."

Shaylar blinks once, twice and then swallows the bite of fried tuber she was munching, "I'm great, ma'am. Thank you for this." She gestures around the living cavern to imply she's talking about the dinner. She sips her juice, one eye on Satiet. Not nervous, perhaps a little wary. Her juice cup sloshes a little when she thunks it down on the table.

The squeal of a lower caverns girl caught in the reeling arm of a bluerider draws some attention of the dining crowd towards the mini-dance area, and as the first out on the 'floor,' the sounds of boot heels and lady's slippers clatters to keep the beat of non-existent dance music. The harpers, for their part, look bemused.

Suraiya pokes at the random things she placed upon her plate. Tubers, some roast, and other vegetables. With her fork in hand, she waves it towards Shaylar slowly. "Oh, no need for that. The 'ma'am' thing. 'M not much older an' that makes me sound... well-- jus' call me Suri, or Suraiya." Then back to the rider conversation, she chuckles at L'sen and adds: "But Ozzy made 'im work for it, at least..." Because she has to give her dragon credit to something, even though a dragon would have eventually caught her anyways.

Morowen walks in from the tunnel to the bowl.
Morowen has arrived.

Thiana wanders into the cavern from the lower caverns.
Thiana has arrived.

Thiana
     Klah brown hair with flecks of golden red falls in slight curls to this girl's mid back and curves up at the ends inwards. Falling around her face not captured by any pins or ties the soft curls seem to have taken on the habit of inhabiting her vision. Longer almond shaped, soft gray-blue eyes and surrounded by lighter but long lashes on top and bottom. Her eyes are placed around a slender long nose which is dotted with freckles on pale ivory coloured skin. The sprinkling of freckles spreads down to her cheek and longer shaped face with thin but pouty rosy red lips adding to the colour contrasts. Like her face her 5'8" body is tall and lanky though grow into it's self shape wise giving her a rather womanly but small figure. She has long well worked leg which show just a bit under a simple brown pair of pants with a black leather belt securing them. Her shapely top and obviously often used arms are hidden under a similar brown coloured tunic with gold threading of dragons or various sizes. Black ankle boots are on her feet for protection but are mostly hidden cause her pants are to long like someone was expecting her to grow more, even at the apparently age of 24 Turns, 6 months, and 24 days. Around her neck on a silver chain hangs three diamonds clustered in a heart shape. The necklace shines and dances about Thiana's neck. A knot on her shoulder marks her as the High Reaches Weyr Steward.

C'len's been so caught up in his food but, suddenly, something about L'sen and Suri's conversation sinks in. "Neiveth caught Ozzy?" He sputters his suprise, clear on his face as the piece of tuber that goes flying at the person across the table from him. Out of his mouth. That's appetizing. The bronzerider doesn't notice it, instead focusing on his two fellow ex-weyrlings. "Really?"

Satiet pokes her lower lip out and wrinkles her nose, as she catches sight of the piece of tuber that arcs away from C'len. "Lovely, C'len. Really." The rueful head shake that's meant for the bronzerider also allows the young woman time to think and recompose herself. It only takes a moment and she refinds that center to flash Shaylar a gracious smile. "I don't think we've met formally yet. Satiet, Teonath's rider, and you're-," she pauses, brows furrowed, "Shaylar?"

"Well, yeah," L'sen concedes to Suraiya with a grin. "They did good, both of 'em. Anyway--heeey!" He's eyeing the dance floor speculatively. "Oh, Satieeeet. You owe me a dance from, like, way back." He waggles his brows suggestively at the goldrider, before flying food attracts his attention. "Eew," he says succinctly, staring at C'len. And: "Er, well. Yeah. What about it?"

Thiana comes into the living caverns a little out of breath, "Sharding great..." She mutters and then puts a bright smile on her face as she looks about the room for Satiet.

Shaylar's eyes swing to the dance floor and she looks a little wistful. She turns a smile on Satiet at the official greeting and nods, "Yes ma'am. Shaylar. Well met." She missed the flying tuber, evidently.

Suraiya follows the piece of food flying from the bronzerider, but unlike the weyrwoman she refuses to comment on it. Just keep grinning and look straight... "Yah, 'm sure Neiveth was the one.." She replies as well, her shoulders shrugging up. Her attention is caught by the harpers now, and she pushes her plate away from the food, uninterested. "Ya think many will dance or would rather finish off all the food first?"

"Well met, Shaylar. You should see if there's something in dark green, to match your eyes, in the storage caverns to wear. You'd look nicer." Satiet sits at a table with Suraiya and Shaylar, somewhat near C'len and L'sen, and there's a constant stream of people getting up to get more food, or on their way for their first plates. Cinnamon-rubbed roasts and vegetables seem to be the choice, though there are a few other side dishes available, and the sound of harper music threads lightly in the air. Catching sight of Thiana's arrival, the young woman lifts an arm to hail the other coordinator, and then returns to the conversation at hand. "If you'd like to dance, maybe you can wheel L'sen off for a whirl. Exercise," she calls over sweetly, "Will let you eat more later you know!"

C'len certainly seems more interested in the food, but that could be due to his general clumsiness, even when not attempting dance steps. He clears the suprise from his face, merely shrugging and giving L'sen a grin and, were Suri not looking, might give him a nudge with his elbow, too. "Might be more luck in convincing Jemah to dance than Satiet," C'len says mildly, with a quick glance over to the junior weyrwoman.

Morowen comes back, walking out from between a small group of people talking, munching on a bubbly, with a smile on his face. To Satiet he quietly says, "Sorry that I left so abruntly, I'm just not used to crowds like this and I was feeling a bit overwhelmed with it all, I'll just try to enjoy the evening as it was made to do." He sits down and finishes up munching the bubbly.

L'sen glances from dance floor to plate and back again. Finally, he concludes, "Food first." Indeed, he's still wolfing the meal before his words. "And don't think you can just ignore me, Sat--ow!" the bluerider yelps abruptly, glancing around at C'len. "What was that for?" So much for subtlety.

Shaylar blinks at Satiet, obviously unsure if that was a compliment, a subtle insult or just an observation. She decides not to let it bother her, "Hmm...yes. I like green. I'll check that out, maybe." She overhears C'len's statement and bends over her food. Perhaps she's trying to hide a huge grin. Or maybe just hungry. She's swaying in time with the harper music, though.

Rachiel walks over to the food and comes back with a bubbly and a drink in hand. She sits down and listens to the conversations around the table.

Suraiya considers the dance floor a moment longer before returning to her untouched food. Ah yes, nutrients. She pulls it back with her fork, actually getting something into herself this round. "That's right," she answers to Satiet's comment, looking from weyrwoman to the others still eating. "Might as well save up what ya have an' get on to the dance floor 'fore all the food is missing. Don't ya dance?" She asks Satiet, her eyes glancing between the two male riders.

Deliberately, Satiet only turns to eye L'sen after he yelps, and once his attention is elsewhere. With a smirk hinting in her expression, she leans to murmur towards her two female tablemates, "If you two preoccupy him all night, I'll spare a half mark each. Promise on Faranth's golden bottom." Suraiya's query knits her brow and the foremost answer on her mouth is foregone quickly, and after a quick bite of her lower lip, she shakes her head, "Sometimes. But it's the principle of the thing now."

Thiana smiles and nods her head towards Satiet with a grin on her face now as she heads for the food. The Steward tries to keep her head low but nod and greets everyone she passes. Grabbing a small plate of food she heads back towards Satiet and asks quietly, "Mind if I join you all?"

Shaylar blushes a bit at Satiet's suggestion, "I'd love to, but I don't know how to dance," she says quietly. Several of the candidates around her snicker. She glares at them and stares into her juice cup for a moment. Then she looks up, "Is dancing hard? Maybe I could wing it."

"Uh, my hand slipped?" C'len says to L'sen, all innocence. The return of the lanky candidate causes C'len to wave him over, "Grab more to eat than that. There's plenty left." He grins over at Morowen, then turns back to the table. "Maybe Satiet could give you dance tips, as well?" He asks of Shaylar.

Satiet's low murmur, though L'sen can't distinguish the words, attracts his attention, and after giving C'len one last odd look, he studies the junior weyrwoman dubiously.. "I know you're talking about me again," he decides, "but don't worry, I'll still dance with you. Or, hey, the rest of you, too, you know? (Not you, C'len). I mean, I'm not that good, really--I stepped on Tavrie, that one time--but I try and... stuff. Yeah. It's not hard at all." He gives a big, convincing smile to Shaylar.

"Gladly," Suraiya answers Satiet quietly with a grin. She nods at Shaylar and says, "I really can't dance either. It doesn't look tough, though. We can embarress ourselves together out there." Her strawberry-blonde head perks up, smiling at Thiana as she makes a bit of room by bringing her plate in closer to herself. "I don' mind at all." She waves to Morowen while she is looking away from the rest at the table.

The urge to speak overwhelms any semblance of distance Satiet wants to cultivate as her image, and tartly, she returns, "I am -so- not talking about you. I'm offering Shaylar and Suraiya ample compensation to take care of a problem for me." Where the problem is L'sen, but who's counting? "Go ahead, Thiana. The meat's as tender as Myriana ever gets it. There's talent," she allows with some respect, "In cooking herdbeast that's unlike fish or baking cookies. I-," but what she means to say lapses into silence as she glowers at C'len. Too bad she doesn't look scary while trying to keep her demeanor pleasant - constant vigilance.

Morowen takes C'len's advice and goes up to get more food. Filling up a plate to capacity, he walks back holding it carefully. Sitting down, he takes a big bite, grins, then says to C'len, "Ahh, thats good! Thanks for telling me to get more, I didn't realize I was this hungry." He then turns back to the plate and starts eating, listening to the conversations around him.

Shaylar wrinkles her nose and nods at Suraiya, "Yes, we can try. Maybe I wouldn't do half bad? Should I ask L'sen to dance? I need someone that can lead, I suppose."

"Baking requires talent," C'len protests in Satiet's direction. "I haven't seen you taking it up, anyway." The bronzerider then realizes how that came out and covers his mouth appologetically. Having polished off his meal, there's no food to distract himself with--and so he finds another focus, looking over to Shaylar. "I'd offer, but I'd probably break your feet stepping on them, and break my neck falling over after I did that." At least he admits to being a klutz.

"Or," Satiet swivels her attention to Shaylar, "You could lead. I'm sure not many people would notice the difference. Really," a nod indicates the slow swirls of dancers on the floor. As food disappears and digestion sinks in, the harpers' music starts to gain volume and speed. "There's enough dancers that I doubt any one person would be picked out to stare at." It's maybe meant to be comforting, and instead comes out a beat too eager. "I mean, if you still want to dance with L'sen." - "And I don't plan on baking. One baking Weyrwoman," her nose wrinkles again, "If Josilina's baking can be called baking is enough."

Thiana smiles and sits down in the place Shaylar made for her, "Why thank you Shaylar." She smiles to the candidate and then looks up, "Dancing? Well that sounds like fun." She comments and starts to eat at the food she has wearing better clothing then she normally does.

L'sen grins at Satiet, reassured by her words. "Oh, well. Okay, then," he agrees easily. Glancing back at the others, he notes, "I'll dance if you wanna, Shaylar, Suri. I mean, I'm not /great/ but I do okay. I wouldn't, well. Do all that." He jerks a thumb over at C'len. "We can show Satiet how to do it, since she's so scaaared." Pause. "I like Josilina's cookies."

"Because you're -strange-," comes a mutter from somewhere, followed by more jibing, from some other Avalanche riders, "The Weyrwoman's cookies. Hehe."

Suraiya wags her fork first at Shaylar and then at L'sen. "Oh, you should. I bet you'll do fine. Would ya jus' dance with Shaylar? Give her the few tips ya know.. I can't possibly much help myself." Her grin quickly disappears when she catches sight of Satiet's look to the bronzer. Scary or not, she wouldn't want to be on the end of an angry weyrwoman. She fades into silence as she finally finishes her plate, as little as it was to begin with. She sits back and listens to the conversation around her.

"Hate to eat and run..." C'len trails off. Well, the eating part's okay, not the running. "I need to finish up an errand for my wingsecond." C'len's empty plate is collected as he stands and he calls a quiet goodnight before drifting off to the kitchens where he'll deposit his dishes, then slip out to the bowl.

Shaylar gives C'len a grateful smile, "Thanks. I appreciate that." She glances at L'sen and then at Suraiya, then back at L'sen. "Um...okay. I'm game for almost anything. Why not dancing?"

C'len steps away from the tables and heads into the busy kitchen.
C'len has left.

The glower for C'len subsides after a moment, not so coincidentally as the bronzerider exits, and Satiet eyes her plate a bit quietly. "Mmm. I'm sure you'll do well, Shaylar," she comments, in unusual flattery. "Persistence is sometimes rewarded."

Morowen finishes up whats on his plate and leans back with a satisfied sigh. "Go for it Shay, your supposed to have fun this evening, so go ahead and have fun!" He then starts tapping time with the music on the table with his fingers quietly.

"See you, C'len," L'sen calls cheerfully after the bronzerider, waving. Quickly, he shoves down the last of his meal, pushing the scraped-clean plate away before offering Shaylar a hand. "C'mon, let's go," he urges her, nevermind she might still be eating.

Rachiel licks her sticky fingers, "Go for it, Shaylar."

Shaylar grins and shrugs at Satiet and Suraiya, "To the grand adventure I suppose." She puts her small hand into L'sen's and hops up from the table. "I'm warning you, I really don't know how to dance."

Satiet taps the table idly with her fork end. "You don't dance?" is asked of the Suraiya, the question also including Morowen and Rachiel with slight tilts of her head, before she goes on to query the greenrider, "And have you and your twin ever switched places on anyone?" Shaylar's flittering off with L'sen earns a look of relief. "He never forgets. Lousiest luck in that he has the intelligence of a vtol sometimes, but the memory of- a Masterharper."

Rachiel shakes her head at Satiet's question, and smiles at her comment.

"Oh, good," L'sen tells Shaylar blithely. "Neither do I." And on that promising note, he tugs her out to the dance floor as the harpers strike up another tune. "Okay. So I think it's something like--" he steals a blatant look at one of the other couples nearby and attempts to arrange themselves likewise "--this. And now, we dance."

Several girls on the dance floor steer their partners clear of L'sen, leaving a nice little hollow for the couple. The harper's music is now a medium tempo song.

Shaylar giggles a bit and looks at the couple next to them too. She puts one hand on L'sen's shoulder and another in his hand and lets the rider lead. They must make an interesting looking couple, the tall rider and the petite teenager.

"Oh, I have before... Once or twice," Suraiya replies as she scrapes at the empty plate as if she can get more out of it. She places the fork down before she makes a whole through the table looking for something, focusing her attention on the goldrider. "But 'm clumsy an' all an' I didn't look good on the dance floor." She pauses a moment to watch the pair leave for the floor, grinning as she watches L'sen's antics and Shaylar alike. Back to Satiet, she bobs her head quickly. "Oh, we did all the time! It makes quite a mess of things, but it's been tough to do since we Impressed, y'know."

Morowen shakes his head, "I don't regularly, but I have on quite a few occasions, I'd just rather sit back and enjoy the music, the food and the people," as he says this he leans back in his seat with his eyes closed, slowly bobbing his head to the music.

L'sen's dancing is perhaps not the most graceful or technically perfect, but he's trying hard, biting his lip as he watches his feet. There's several ungainly hops as he barely avoids stepping on Shaylar, but overall, he manages all right--they survive the song, anyway, and L'sen sags with a grin. "That's harder than I remembered," he admits.

"I can imagine you two could fool some candidates at least," Satiet's gaze cuts across to the telltale knot on Suraiya's shoulder, "But riders, the dragons, unfortunately, have a perchance to talk more than keep secrets. Still, it must have been fun to have a sister." There's faint wistfulness in the weyrwoman's voice, an emotion that fades out as she catches sight of the two dancers. Absentmindedly, she begins a statement to Morowen that starts with, "I-," but then fades out as a cool glance over catches sight of the candidate with his eyes closed.

Shaylar grins at L'sen and nods, "Not half bad. That was interesting. Thank you. Do we want to try that again? Or maybe Suraiya would like to dance?" She glances back over at the table.

Suraiya draws into silence as she considers the weyrwoman's words. "Y'know, that'd be really fun if the dragons aren't 'round... I bet Sari can get into it 'gain. Tricking people that is." She grins broadly at the thought. Her eyes follow Satiet's to the candidate and rider, having finished their dance, and she waves when Shaylar looks over to them.

There's a flicker of amusement in Satiet's eyes as her unsubtle insinuation makes its mark in the other rider. "It'd be fun, sure. I can imagine it'd be similar to like how Shalyn convinced me she was just another weyrbrat." Her half-empty plate is pushed forward, no apparent desire to finish her meal there. "At least he didn't step all over her feet, I think. Else, I'm sure we'd have heard a shriek or two and possibly needed a healer."

"I think," L'sen begins, "I want dessert." He's eyeing the food tables again, but is at least polite enough to offer, "You want me to get you something else, too?" However, he hardly waits for an answer before trundling off to the table to grab what he wants before returning to his earlier spot.

Shaylar blinks and then grins a bit, shaking her head, "No, thanks. I've got a bubbly at the table." She walks back to her table and sits crosslegged on the bench. "Well, that was fun."

"Thank Faranth," Suraiya mutters towards Satiet's last statement, and shudders at the thought of a healer needed. "I bet he's not as bad as a dancer as he said, or we would have heard something.. or he was careful 'nough not to bruise 'er." She watches the bluerider's path, tongue running over her lips at the sight of more sweets. Dessert before and after dinner, that's always the way to go. The greenrider considers it a moment before she says a quick "excuse me" and heads in that direction as well, piling some cookies into a plate to bring back to their table to share.

Shaylar rolls her eyes, "He's not a bad dancer. Okay, so he's not great, but I'm no Lady Holder." She tucks into her bubbly and grabs a cookie as well.

Satiet steeples her fingers together, and then drops her chin onto the backs of her fingers so they make a cradle. "How was the dance?" But then Shaylar answers, so she quickly diverts her attention to L'sen.

L'sen slides into his chair again--collapses, more like, with an air of utter exhaustion despite the relatively brief dance. Of course, his pastry dessert cheers him right up, and he takes a big bite. "Ooh, that's good. I needed that." Pause. "The dance was nice, too," he mumbles, words muffled by the food. "Fun. You should try it, hey."

Satiet lifts her chin long enough to mime with her fingers: little brain shown by fingers pressed together, then widens long memory. But the pantomime skills are somewhat lacking. Still, she doesn't have any qualms at reaching over to try and filch something off of L'sen or Suraiya's plates. Both if she can somehow manage that.

Morowen looks around sadly, then considerably brightens, reaching into his back pouch-like pocket and withdrawing a bubbly, "mhmghm, I knew that pocket would come in handy..mghmm"

Suraiya finishes a cookie in two bites, already taking a second as she looks between blue and gold rider. Ah, it starts again.. "Seems to have taken a lot out of ya," she notes to L'sen with a grin. She pushes the cookie-plate closer to Satiet, as if that would help in her search for sweets. "So ya had fun, Shaylar? See, told ya it wasn't that tough.."

Shaylar grins around her bubbly pie and nods, "Dancing could be fun. I'll have to work at it." She glances over at Morowen, "Are they out of fresh ones, Morowen?"

Rachiel stands up and walks over to the food, filling a small plate with bubblys, cookies and other sweet stuff. She walks back to the table and sets the plate down where everybody can reach it.

When Satiet reaches for his plate, L'sen waits until she's almost got a piece of his pastry before reaching out to slap gently at her hand. "Nuh-uh. No dessert if you don't dance with me," he teases her. Though, his resolve doesn't last long before he reaches to take a hypocritical cookie from Suraiya's plate. "Don't mind if I do. I didn't see these up there."

Sweets supposedly make those that are sour sweeter. If the suddenly fleeting grateful look Satiet spares Suraiya is any indication even the imminent arrival of sweets is enough to smooth out the weyrwoman's less than congenial temperament. She can even, for now, ignore L'sen's smack. "Thanks," she adds, filching two, and sinking backwards in contentment. As dinner winds down around them, with people making their way off towards other activities such as sleep or that last hide to complete, the caverns become just a mite quieter. The harpers still play, though they've rotated in the vocalist so her sweet voice wafts through the din. "That's perfectly fine. Suraiya isn't as stingy with her dessert. Thank you too, Rachiel."

Morowen shakes his head, "I don't think so, but I'd rather not get up without dire reason to do so though." He grins, and takes one of Suraiya's cookies when she's not looking.

Shaylar aws quietly, "What, you don't dance either, Morowen?" She breaks a cookie in half and examines it as if looking for the answer to life in the moist, brown yummy cookie. A yawn breaks into her examination, though.

Suraiya beams as her cookies are at least favored, but she eyes the bubblies Rachiel did bring. Her fingers itching to get into one of those, but she seems contented the moment with her two cookies. "Now if ya wanna dance, L'sen, y'know I wouldn't mind giving it a try. Though the harpers don't appear to be playing for too much longer..." She tries her best on offering and shifting his insistent attention on getting Satiet to dance. Her fingers betray her and she inconspicuously steals a bubbly off of the candidate's plate.

Morowen has disconnected.

Shaylar yawns again and this time she doesn't recover well. She looks extremely sleepy. She excuses herself with a muttered thanks to Satiet for the 'wonderful dinner' and to L'sen for the 'fun dance'.

Shaylar has disconnected.

L'sen rolls his eyes at Satiet, though he's still grinning. "Fine, fine. I'll split it with you if you really wanna," he offers generously, moving to halve the pastry and offer one section to the goldrider. "/Suri/ will dance with me." He quickly finishes his dessert, pushing the rest over to Satiet before grinning at the greenrider. "I'm game, too."

"I've to watch my waistline," Satiet demures both bubbly and L'sen's persistence. More gratefulness brightens the coloring of her already brilliant eyes, as she casts a _look_ towards Suraiya that speaks thanks. "All candidates," she announces after Shaylar's already left, for the benefit of others in the vicinity, "Don't have to stick around for clean up duty, how unfortunate would that be? Just go enjoy your night."

Suraiya waves after Shaylar's departing back. At L'sen's words she beams, seeing that her plan worked after all. Leaving the half-eaten bubbly in a corner of her plate, half-hoping to find that sticky dessert just a little later. She gets up, smoothing out her old skirts before passing a grin to Satiet. She doesn't seem to mind at all diverting the attention. "Oh, that's really lucky of 'em. Half of 'em seemed tired 'nough as it is."

L'sen offers Suraiya a hand to lead her out to the dance floor then, grinning still. "Wouldn't be fair if we made 'em clean up their own dinner, you know what I mean? Hey, I think I know this long--let's go!" He's already headed that way, as excited as ever.

Satiet, with crumbs scattered over her upper lip, gives Suraiya a thumbs-up: among the long list of people on her unhappy list, this greenrider is apparently not on it anymore. "Song, long, even his brain is all mixed up," she sighs, watching L'sen with a wry shake of her head -- almost like a rueful mother. Somehow she raised him wrong.

Suraiya takes the offered hand with a giggle. "Good point; but I half suspect some of 'em with have duties tomorrow that'll revisit tonight's dinner. Cleaning or something. 'Least they get the night off." And then she's pulled along after the excited bluerider, suddenly confused. What was she suppose to bedoing? Ah yes, swinging around to a tune without hurting herself or anyone else.

With a last grin for Satiet, L'sen whirls Suraiya off to the dance floor. "Okay, I think I've got it now, see," he tells her. "It's always easier the second time around, you know?" With marginally more skill, he gets into the proper position while the harpers play.

A drudge who knows Satiet far too well, swings by with a glas- no tankard of mulled wine. "Thanks," liberal with her gratitude tonight, the dark-haired woman inhales the smell before taking a dainty sip. There's not many couples on the floor now, though the cutest sight of two children swaying back and forth in imitation of what they'd seen earlier draws more 'awws' and attention than the gossip of who is paired with each other.

"Of course it is," Suraiya answers while staring at her own two feet for a moment, trying to get the hang of the dance. "'Cept I've got this one to start on, so I apologize for anything." She looks back up to grin at L'sen, aware of a slip or two of her feet. She makes sure not to aim for his feet as she smooths out her movements.

L'sen glances down at their feet as well, though this time around he's confident enough to actually look at Suraiya's face as well. "Don't worry," he reassures her as they dance. "I don't think you're big enough to hurt my feet or anything, you know what I mean? But, um. Don't let me step on you, 'cause, well. Satiet thinks I'm fat."

The dainty sip turns into something more thirst quenching, and with a sigh that relaxes the tension from her shoulders, Satiet sort of sinks further into her chair. "You are," she calls over, the comparative quiet of the living caverns allowing her to both hear and yell without truly straining herself.

Suraiya gives their feet a glance after his warning. When she looks back up to L'sen, she rolls her eyes. "You're not fat.. 'least I don' think so... an' I got more personal evidence to back that up." Unless there's gossip she's missing, and she very much doubts that. She's distracted momentarily at Satiet's shout, giggling. The distraction causes her to slip up again and she tries to avoid any feet contact.

L'sen beams at Suraiya. "Really? Thanks! I'm glad /someone/ likes me," he notes, coupling the words with sticking his tongue out maturely at Satiet. "You're not fat, either." The latter compliment is to his dancing partner, but even L'sen realizes that didn't come out right. "Um. That's not--that's not what I meant. I mean, it is, but I mean, I meant something more like, I dunno, you look really nice or something, so let's just say I said that instead?" He wrinkles his nose briefly, grinning.

Satiet can ignore the sticking out of tongue and instead gets to her feet. The mug of mulled wine is held onto fast and the slender weyrwoman makes various niceties by stopping by tables on her way out. With her table companions preoccupied with not stepping on each others' toes, it's clear she hopes to sneak off.

Suraiya is a people pleaser, and she can't help it. "S'alright," she notes to his compliment, with or without the unintended insult. It's not like she noticed any different. "Thank you." She smiles brightly at the comment. As the dancing winds down, she can't help but catch sight of the retreating weyrwoman. And unfortunately for her, Suraiya doesn't understand the concept of sneaking out, so she calls out a cheerful "G'night!" to her back.

If it weren't for Suraiya's comment, Satiet might have escaped L'sen's notice. Now, though, he glances over at her and grins, calling, "Next time, Satiet--next time!" after her. It's almost a threat, as he turns back to Suraiya to finish the dance.

The groan is heard echoing in the tunnel along with Satiet's exit.