Death of a Weyrwoman: 2/2

[essdara]

Who: Everyone and anyone
Where: Vanya's Room, Living Caverns
When: The day of Yevide's death
Comment: 2/2, plus aftermath in seperate post.



Aelan's grin broadens, positively wicked as she steps into the dance and looks over her shoulder towards the shawl in question. "You think you can finagle another glass of wine out of the servers?" she asks with an arch of her brow in return, her steps more graceful than she gives herself credit for. If the pattern of the dance is a little mechanical, she makes up for it with a certain natural athleticism, quick to compensate for mistakes. She lowers her voice then, not quite managing to compose her expression to innocence.

Syn laughs softly, "I think I need to." She offers and she finishes off her drink, blushing more as J'sek moves closer. She sets aside the glass and gives a small nod. "I'd like to, it'd be something to do than just stand around.." She peeks at him then, quirking a brow. "I bet you're better than I am, at least..."

T'ral and Br'ce take their seats and resume their chatting, T'ral with a long look in Ginella's direction before his attention is back on his wingmate. The goldrider spares them a quick glance before turning back to nod at G'thon: "I believe there is a dessert wine among them?" Aida gets a brief glance and an: "But wh-- okay, I guess." G'thon gets a nod: "It must be a welcome diversion from the barracks." Miniyal's greeting gets another smile similar to the earlier one: "Very busy! Lovely to see you as well, of course."

Reyce has retreated back to his wine, taking a heavy drink from it while he listens to Issa's response. The properties of her dress earn a brief pause from his alcoholic gulping, and a raised brow as he answers drily, "It isn't predictable." Surprisingly correct in his treatment of the wine glass, he curls his fingers lightly around the stem and lets it lower to his side while he surveys the crowded room with grim displeasure. "Doesn't matter," he mutters. "Anywhere that's not here." The wine glass gets transferred quickly to the other hand as he moves around Issa and loops his arm through hers, giving a gentle pull to see if she'll follow his lead towards the lower caverns.
K'rom nods slowly at N'ka as he moves beside the brownrider, nibbling at his food. He nods at Medina, smiling even more, "Yes, Iusath is growing a lot and I am continuously suprised by it. She is beautifyl. Kie beams and noda at Medina, "And thank you for asking."

Vanya smiles up at E'sere, and there's a warmth and pleasure in seeing him. "May I inquire as to her identity? She's quite striking. I'm flattered you would desert her for me," she says, looking up to see Essdara. "Of course you'll have your dance. I've promised only two people tonight. Any other dancing I do will doubtless be complete happenstance." She gives Dara a warm smile. "Medina is in quest of refreshment, and I'm a place holder for us till she returns." She then stands up, and tucks an errant strand of hair back in place on Dara's head. "Are you turning heads, dear?"

N'tai answers confidently, "I saw a /girl/ with drinks on the way over here. Could probably get the whole stock if I had enough time." He glosses right over the top of any of Aelan's missed steps, matching athleticism with familiarity of steps and natural grace. "Watch yourself now. We're about to enter her orbit." That he has the lead and keeps his partner just beyond arm's reach of the tantalizing flutter of feathers is simply unfortunate coincidence.

N'ka finishes another mouthful with an audible swallow, and grins. "And curious to boot," he notes, bobbing his head towards K'rom. "I still have only gotten to see her once, you know. But is Sevath speaking with her? I told him to." And he goes back to eating, eyeing Medina with a curious look. "Healer, right?" he asks, his gaze paused on her arms.

J'sek smiles widely and politely offers his arm to Syn when she accepts to dance with him. And for a brief moment, his nervousness reappears as he glances towards the general direction of the dance floor. What's he getting himself into? Deep breath is taken in and let out as a light chuckle. "Are you truly betting, or is that just a figure of speech?" he teases slightly to Syn. "Because its been a long while since I've attempted dancing, so even if I was good, I'd be rusty." Or so he says.

A faint pink across her cheeks at Vanya's fond gesture, and she shakes her head, "Nah, not really. Like I said, people like you or Tava or Aelan, that's where heads turn." A smile to E'sere. "And I will, of course, fulfill my duties to you, wingleader. I am not one to turn away from dancing." A glance back to Vanya, a bit surprised. "That's Yevide, darling. Our Weyrwoman." A sudden grin. "I could introduce you if you like, she's very approachable."

"They are, I am certain," Aida comments agreeably, bringing her glass up for another sip and offering another smile. Now, her attention stays on those nearby. That smile takes on a touch of a reassuring note for Miniyal, and she comments lightly, "It is busy. Practically overwhelming, don't you think?" She just smiles to Ginella's almost question, one shoulder lifting in a light shrug.

Aelan catches her lower lip between her teeth in a mischievous grin, her steps coming lighter and with greater grace as she concentrates on something else entirely. "You're cheating," she notes in a low voice, stifling a laugh as she tries to press N'tai a little bit closer to the woman with the shawl, overstepping once. There's a snatch, catching nothing but air and bringing a laugh that almost gets her caught before she waits another spin, determined.

Syn blushes a bit more and takes J'sek's arm. She chews on her bottom lip once more and glances at the other weyrling. "Figure of speech, I don't like to bet." She offers, giving a shy little smile. Her gaze moves around quickly and she casts another smile towards K'rom before returning her attention to J'sek.

Dressed for the occasion, but looking haggard despite himself, J'cor at last enters the Living Cavern at a time that could, if one were generous, be termed 'fashionably late.' Like the Darwinian ape, the Weyrleader has grown straighter with every step until, at last, his arrival at the party makes him fully human. Alone, his Weyrwoman having arrived with another escort, he must make his own way into the social pleasantries, starting at the door with scattered greetings for familiar faces as he moves, smiling only wanly but shaking hands firmly as he picks his way along the edge of the room.

It's several long moments later, and very slow progress, indeed, that see Tavaly's return from the infirmary down below. At her side, the wounded bluerider T'zen strikes a rather promising pose. His clothed in a fine shirt of satiny blue, tucked into a pair of loosely belted breeks whose hems tuck gently into a pair of soft boots with sturdy soles. His hair is neatly combed and still appears a little wet. One arm is slung around Tav's shoulders and the girl holds them both straight. As regal an entrance as they can make, considering the bluerider's extensive injuries, and the bumpy road that's brought them to this moment. Upon reaching the top step, Tav instantly veers the man over and into a comfortable seat in the corner of the room, right of the stairs. Nice and quiet, out of the way, yet still able to see everything. A few whispered exchanges pass between the two before Tav sets off at a rather brisk pace to find something that T'zen /can/ eat.

"You do yourself a disservice, Essdara," remarks E'sere, with a small smile for the cook. "Half the battle of turning heads is /thinking/ you will do it, and carrying yourself as such." He glances between the two women, then back over his shoulder to Yevide, cocking a half-smile as he watches her, before turning back to present company. "So she is," he agrees with Essdara. "Now, which of you would lay claim to me first? Or shall I be relegated to place-holder while you two go gallivanting off together?"

"I trust you would be able to find your way to someplace we could meet," asides G'thon wryly to Miniyal. To Ginella: "Precisely my desire. We'll have to go find it." A pause, then, and the former weyrleader regards Aida a bit long, a bit thoughtfully. Clearly there is more he wishes to say, more he wishes of her; but in a moment's time he decides not to press whatever matter that might be now. "We'll go find it. Thank you for the advice, weyrwoman." A dip of his chin first to Ginella, then another for Aida, and the old man turns so his young consort may see clear the path away and toward the tables offering wine.

Ginella nods her agreement to Aida: "Indeed. If you'll all excuse me for a moment? I've been meaning to speak with the Weyrwoman." She smiles politely, and extricates herself, aiming for Yevide. "Weyrwoman," she greets her warmly, turning a polite smile on R'vain. She knows who he is, certainly, even if they haven't really -met-, "Weyrlingmaster. Good evening. I was hoping to speak with you about that last hide I borrowed from you," she begins, trailing off and looking at Yevide, who ought to know what she means.

"Healer. Caucus student." Medina confirms. She glances down at her arms, sees the faint red stain on them anew. Grimaces. Finally decides what do with her drink and food, takes a gulp from the wine-glass, then sets it down, just as N'ka has done, at her feet. Watches it warily for a moment, then picks at the food on her plate. "N'ka. How are you and..." She pauses in that way that welcomes someone to fill the gap to avoid an uncomfortable silence.

Issa, for all her teasing verbal resistance, shows nothing but eagerness to follow along with that gentle pull, fingers pulled more tightly around her wineglass to counteract the jostling. "How did I know," she whispers up to him as she adjusts her step to his, "that you'd find some way to avoid dancing with me?" There's a brief pause and she deals out a tug of her own, urging them into a roundabout route. "Go this way. Avoid my mother, or she'll snag us." Indeed, the harper in pink has already begun to scan the crowd for her daughter.

N'tai says gravely, "It's not cheating, miss. It's just adding another layer of difficulty." The next pass into the woman's orbit is a quick one-- mandated by the song and not just amusement at watching Aelan snatch at air-- though a slower, sweeping turn is written in to the steps before too much longer. In a whisper, he hastens to add, "She's got twenty pounds on both of us put together, so don't get caught." Then loosens his hand at Aelan's back to give her a nudge in the right direction amid all this whirling.

Blinking, Miniyal peers at G'thon, but since he seems willing to extract them from the conversation she simply nods her head. Aida is given a brief smile. "If we might talk soon? Clearly it won't be tonight, but if you've a moment tomorrow come speak with me?" This then, is her farewell and she allows the turning and sets her eyes on the prize. "I am perfectly capable of getting wine on my own," she reminds G'thon with a wry smile. "And I promised a dance so it's not as if I will flee." A pause and then the hint of teasing enters her voice. "Until after."

"Perhaps after I have managed to keep from trampling E'sere's courageous feet," Vanya replies to Dara, smiling. She looks around for Medina but doesn't see her. "I shall claim you first, if Dara will be kind enough to serve as place holder -- Ah, Medina returns triumphant. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to dance before I lose my nerve, and simply pray I don't damage my gallant Wingleader too much to spoil it for all the other ladies who come after me." She looks then to E'sere. "I place myself in your most capable hands, sir. Be gentle with me, I beg."

"Weyrwoman." R'vain has said this already, so that makes twice now, once a request for her indulgence and this time, an acceptance of it. He steps forward a half-pace, that he might speak very quietly, and for once what he says is lowly enough spoken that only Yevide might hear-- if, of course, Ginella weren't nearing. "I owe you an apology," is what the Weyrlingmaster says so quietly, and then startles to hear the Caucus goldrider's voice. The man's jaw sets hard and he backs up that pace once more, and as he has no pockets crosses his arms over his chest. This does nothing good for the fit of his jacket. "Weyrwoman." He's getting a lot of mileage out of the word tonight.

"I know." J'sek says in reply to Syn, chuckling again. "Which is why I figured you meant it simply as a bit of humour." With her arm now in his, he carefully guides them both towards the dance floor, moving slowly enough and not in too much of a hurry, it would seem, to join those already dancing. He tilts his head a little towards Syn. "Not too nervous?" he says, loud enough for her to hear but hopefully quiet enough to be reasonably private. "Want to join in now or wait for the next song?" A slight smile follows as his gaze moves to the dancing pairs on the floor, the weyrling already trying to pick out the beat of the song. Oh, this will be interesting.

K'rom smiles and nods at Medina, "Sevath. Brown." Kie grins at Medina and then smiles at N'ka, "Yes, Sevath is talking to her and she is excited by it. Tells me a lot of the conversations." Kie smiles and nods again, looing at Medina, "Iusath is definitely curious and still has lots of questions...." Kie catches Syn's grins and smiles back, then takes a couple more bites of food.

Essdara motions the pair away, with a soft laugh, "Go, enjoy yourself. I'll find someone around here who wants a dance, never fear." A stretch, and she backs away carefully, with a polite curtsey. Turning, then, she's off into the crowd. Still, lacking any more friends to greet, she returns to her previous hobby - stalking R'vain. And so towards him and his goldrider compantion with a small grin.

There's a lifted eyebrow in response to that look from G'thon, but Aida just smiles up at him, lifting her glass when he and Miniyal move to depart. "Enjoy yourselves," she tells them. "I will come and speak with you soon, Miniyal, certainly. Tomorrow should be just fine." And then Ginella is moving to go, and she's nodding. Of course, go. And then she's left to stand by herself and actually breathe. So she does, in the first moment. In the second, she's sending a smile back to Br'ce and T'ral, slipping over to speak a few quiet words, lots of smiling and sipping from her glass to finish it off. Once it's empty, she abandons the company again, heading off to find herself another glass.

E'sere just beams in answer to Vanya, offering her his hand as he takes a couple of steps toward the dance floor. "Excuse us, please," he tells Essdara first, before glancing back to the healer. "You needn't worry," he reassures her. "I'll be gently. Just remember what it felt like in your room, without anyone watching, and without you thinking about it, and you'll do fine, I know."

Reyce's lip quirks slightly at her mild tease, but he makes no response. Instead, he just follows the altered path she indicates, a brief frown at the reminder that Issa has a mother, and she's here - which is all too close. Successfully dodging her, however, the pair of them duck out into the lower caverns.

N'ka answers, "Sevath," only half a beat behind K'rom. He smirks, bobs his head, and kneels for his juice. The plate is balanced successfully, and he stands with both in hand for a quick sip. "And we're doing well, considering. We managed to make it out of Threadfall untouched, surprisingly." He grimaces, and there's a more somber note to his voice when he adds, "It's thanks to Sevath's quick wing." Another gulp of juice, and the glass is replaced back on the floor. There's little left that N'ka hasn't devored in his earlier hast, but he picks at a few greens hesitantly. "He doesn't say a thing to me," is noted towards K'rom, rolling his eyes. "But I'm glad he's speaking with her. I think he's amused."

Aelan misses twice, once in a snatch that catches air again, and once in that faster spin, but she seems determined to win the bet. The nudge gives her the perfect opportunity, and she even grasps a loose-looking feather close to the shawl giving it a short jerk. Unfortunately for Aelan, whatever tailor made that monstrosity knew what they were doing. At least with a needle and thread. The shawl is snatched away entirely, leaving a very surprised Aelan holding it by the feather. Quickly, the girl drops it to the floor, spinning back into N'tai with a stifled laugh. "Go, go, go!" she whispers through a giggle, trying to look like she hasn't even noticed.

Yevide listens to R'vain in silence, replying just as sparingly as she greeted him; she lifts one brow at what he says, tilting her head briefly to one side. Again, he is made to wait through several moments of silence. "I should have said so," she finally agrees. Her tone is warm, her smile intimate - to any outsider, who could not hear the words, the conversation would look friendly, intimate. She turns her attention briefly from R'vain to shoot Ginella a smile; her lips are pressed together again, a faint suggestion of strain in that greeting. Again, her hand comes up to fiddle with the torq at her throat, and lifts from there to rest on her forehead for a moment. She blink, swallows, and it would seem this restores her. "Good evening, my child. You're quite right, we must speak of it. What the Weyrlingmaster has to say to me will only take a minute, I should think." And with that prompt, she cocks her head towards him attentively.

Syn ohs and gives a nod of her head. She moves along beside J'sek, letting out a soft sigh. "Still nervous.. But, not as much as befoe. Thank you again, J'sek.." She lets out a soft hum, shrugging. "I think waiting until this one is over will be better." She offers, glancing around idly.

Vanya can't help but feel slightly nervous, but at E'sere's reassurance, she nods. "I remember," she says, leaning a little close so she'll be heard over the music and crowd. Her hand is relaxed in his, and she smells of lavender and roses, her cheeks a little flushed and she hasn't even started to dance yet. "The music is faster, but I think I can keep up. "I appreciate the gentleness, and I promise I won't panic and freeze if I make a misstep."

Ginella nods politely at R'vain's greeting; she seems to realize she has interrupted, but is not ready to back away apologizing just yet. She waits until Yevide has acknowledged her, and then smiles at the Weyrwoman, nodding: "And I seem to have interrupted him. Excuse me, I think I will go find another drink, before we speak. Can I get either of you anything?"

Medinasmiles at the pair of them, but can't think what to say. She looks around the room, looking for conversation. She sees Vanya, finally dancing with E'sere. "Great party, don't you think? She directs back to the dragonriders. Her eyes continue to scan the room, she picks out Essdara, heading.. somwhere. She is in the line of sight, just, so Medina waves at her, a sort of, 'hey, I'm here, come on over' sort of wave. "You two been here long?"

Gans is peered at, and graciously seems to not bother to notice. "So what do -you- intend to speak to Aida about?" Droll, because he has his own agenda. Rhetorical, because halfway to the table offering wines he has another idea, and stops their progress abruptly to bring it up to her. He crosses a hand over himself to pat at her fingers on his arm, then leans his head in toward her, some affectionate delight bright in his eyes. What he whispers there is for her ears only, but not long after the pair start moving again - not to the wine, but back to the lower caverns passage from which they arrived.

N'tai's eyes widen impossibly when the shawl comes off. The woman and her partner stare at the fallen frock with faces full of confusion. "I said a feather, not her whole dress," hisses the weyrling, swallowing a burst of laughter as the shawl proceeds to get stepped on by a couple tailing himself and Aelan. Hastily, so hastily, he sweeps Aelan across the dance floor in a series of steps that don't seem physically probable, will probably cost his boots many scuffs, and culminate in him stumbling off the edge of the dance floor near where E'sere and Vanya have just entered, one arm still latched around Aelan's waist.

J'sek reaches out with his other hand to possibly pat Syn's arm lightly, in a friendly gesture of reassurance, provided she doesn't pull away. Not exactly typical of him, that's for certain, but perhaps his own nerves and the large crowd is partly to blame. Right. "You're welcome." he says, before nodding his head. "Good choice, this song seems a bit much." The attempted feather snatching by Aelan is caught by J'sek and the weyrling can't help but chuckle heartily at that and masks the following grin with his hand as if he's coughing. "How long do you think this song is?" he then asks his dancing partner.

Miniyal is not the sort of girl who will turn up a chance to flee a party. Especially on the arm of the man she arrived with. And so, the pair do indeed leave. Exit, stage left.

A wave distracts Dara from her goal of R'vani, so instead, she moves in the direction of the greeting. Stopping back by Medina, she offers the woman a smile, though there's a bit of tenseness to it. "Heya, Medina. How're you? It's a good part, isn't it? Very crowded, though, and I admit I think it's starting to get to me." A soft laugh, "That, and everyone I planned to dance with have found other partners. How about you? Care for a dance with a lonely cook, Medina?"

"Good," says E'sere as he leads Vanya to the dance floor. "I know you won't." He sounds quite confident in that fact, and without further ado makes his way onto the dance floor, the wingleader mostly watching his partner, but not above shooting a mildly inquisitive look to the pair stumbling past them, N'tai and Vanya. Shaking his head, flicking Vanya a bemused look, he weaves between a few groups and then takes up a place near the middle of the floor, reaching to pull the healer closer. "Ready?" he murmurs to her as he settles easily into postion, sliding a hand about her waist.

K'rom finishes the last of a pastry, sighing as he reaches for his juice and takes a sip of his juice, smiling at Medina, "No, we haven't been here that long and haven't made rounds. Have you been here long?" Kie giggles and glances at N'ka, "Well, Iusath loves to talk, so she tells me a lot."

"Who would've guessed the fardling thing was that well made?" Aelan snickers, a true laugh escaping as she stumbles quickly through the steps led by N'tai until she makes it to the edge of the floor. "I don't think she realized it was on purpose?" she says hopefully, unable to hold back her broad grin as she tries to catch her breath.

"Yes," grunts R'vain, and flashes Ginella a strange, desperately grateful look. Yes, /very/ yes. "Anything." Back to Yevide then, and he retakes the step forward. He cannot help but look at her fingers upon the gold at her throat, and this sight seems somewhat to restore him. Teeth begin to show. He fashions, slowly, his cheshire grin, then looks up and finds her eyes, strengthened. What he says next is lower yet, his voice so roughly suppressed that even Ginella will have only a few syllables to take away-- the clearest of them 'sorry.'

Aida has found a new glass of wine, to add to what she has had here, and what she may perhaps have already had before arriving tonight. She seems entirely comfortable in the busy cavern, stopping to chat with a few individuals -- one of whom happens to be a small blonde woman in a red dress that most would not recognize. Hi, Clare. It's all smiles and warmth, though. Chat chat chat. From where she's settled to stand, she can watch the dancing, her eyes drifting from here to there as she watches this bit or that.

N'ka shakes his head, following K'rom's spoken negative. "Just got here. Can't tell by our famished faces?" he asks, grinning. The plate is set upon the edge of the serving table, hopefully unnoticed. The last of his juice is swallowed, and as Essdara arrives, he grins widely. "Good, I was going to feel bad about leaving Medina all alone." His glass is balanced upon his abandoned plate, and he turns to K'rom. "Kie. Dance?" So he's not that eloquent. Oh well.

Syn flushes a bit and gives another smile as he pats her arm. "I appreciate it... I'm not running away for once..." She notes, peeking at J'sek as he chuckles. She shrugs it off and glances around. "I don't have any idea..."

"As I'll ever be," Vanya confesses, looking up at him as he slides the arm around her waist. Her own hand goes into his, the other on his shoulder, and she smiles warmly. "I believe I shall thoroughly enjoy this," she murmurs, the pleasure on her face unmistakable. "I've actually been looking forward to it, E'sere. I'm rather surprised at myself, and I may even be tempted to try the Benden wine afterwards. How scandalous of me!"

To answer the bronzerider's look, N'tai pantomimes the tip of a glass over Aelan's head, followed by a helpless shrug. What's a guy to do? "Let's go--" Somewhere else. While the woman is trying to dust off the damaged shawl, he disappears himself and Aelan in to the crowd aimlessly, snagging a pair of glasses fast enough that the wine server won't have time to muster a complaint. "You didn't think to let go when it started to, y'know, /come off/?" he asks around a continuing bubble of laughter, thrusting a less Grail-like glass toward Aelan.

J'cor does not linger in any of his conversations tonight, simply sweeping by with the barest of greetings exchanged. Somewhere in the process, he picks up a glass of Tillek red, and while his drinks from it are delicately taken, with all the formality that typically characterizes this Weyrleader, those paying attention may notice that he's not spacing them out well, and after only a few minutes has drained the glass through. By this time, he's within Aida's area of surveillance, and he offers a nod to the Headmaster's assistant and her chattering comrade as he looks around for another passer-by to mysteriously furnish him with wine.

J'sek grins lightly. "No, you're not. And hopefully you won't, because that mean I'd have to go with you." And he lifts his arm up that is holding hers ever so slightly. "See? I told you you'd be fine." he says, just as the last song comes to an end and a new one begins, its tempo lively but not overly so. J'sek nods his head to Syn and begins to slowly lead her onto the dance floor. "Ready?" Or not. With the beat in mind, the weyrling begins to carefully go through the movements, not doing too badly save for the occasional hesitant or awkward step here or there.

In answer, E'sere strengthens his smile, nodding once to Vanya. "I'm glad to hear that," he tells her, half-teasing. "I'd hate for you to have been dreading it. I can recommend a good vintage, if you like?" Then, once they're properly arranged, he takes up the steps of the dance, relaxed and unfaltering as he fits his movements to the harpers' tune.

Medina has finished with her plate, and sets it down on the side of a table, close to N'ka's. She bends down to gather uyp her wine, but as she does so, her elbow knocks the plate and it is sent flying. The resultant crash can barely be heard in the din, even by those next to her. Two bright spots of colour burn high on her cheeks, but it is the only notice she takes of the whole event, or the ceramic shards that a serving girl now comes to sweep away. Her glass, of course, is intact. She takes a sip, larger than intended. "Enjoy your dance, K'rom, N'ka." she turns to Dara, gives a shrug. "I will. Just let me finish this glass, first." She takes another sip, the third one this large. "How have you been, anyway? I haven't seen you in a while."

"Hey, it was fast," Aelan laughs, taking the glass with a grateful grin. "And I saw that," she smirks at the drinking gesture, even as she takes a sip. Still grinning, she looks over her shoulder towards the dance floor, making sure she's not being followed for chastisement. Letting the adrenaline fade with a soft chuckle, she looks back to the weyrling. "So where're you from, N'tai?" she asks, sipping again.

Chattering girls, or a nearby J'cor. Aida excuses herself promptly from the blonde woman's grasp, giving a gesture off away and murmuring a few quiet words. Whatever it is she said, it sends Clare off in the direction she pointed, leaving Aida free to take the few steps needed that she can offer a quiet greeting to J'cor. "Weyrleader, sir," she offers. There's nothing daunted to her demeanor, all polite smile and light cheer. If there's a hint of concern there, well, it's light enough to pass unnoticed.

Yevide looks up at R'vain; she is not listening to Ginella, and she has not noticed Essdara's aborted approach. She is swallowing again, one hand lifted to press against her forehead. Something has distracted her momentarily, and again her lips press together. She steps forward suddenly, reaching to wrap one hand around the Weyrlingmaster's forearm; her gaze shifts, head thrown back abruptly as she suddenly cranes to watch G'thon's departure, then swings her head to where J'cor stands - it would seem his arrival has not gone unnoticed. From there to E'sere, where he stands on the dance floor with Vanya, whose blood red dress draws a widening of the Weyrwoman's eyes. But finally, her blue eyes shift around to rest once more on the Weyrlingmaster's face. And then, quite simply, she crumples, fingers unfastening from his arm as she folds at his feet.

The sound from the bowl can be heard even over the roar of the living cavern. Even as Yevide is falling to the floor, in that second, Igen's melancholy queen is wrenching herself into the sky with a noise far too like a scream; as she vanishes between for the last time, riderless, Reaches' dragons set up a keening that seems to shake the stone of the Weyr itself. Around the living cavern, riders drop their drinks, clap hands over their mouths, react to the grief their dragons communicate to them. Whatever the population of the Weyr thought of their Weyrwoman, their dragons are mourning the loss of a queen. It takes only a moment after that for the shouting to begin, and realisation to spread, amongst the riders at least: she is dead.

The only time Jiann has seen more people was at Hatching, and a fair number of those weren't from High Reaches Weyr at all, but guests flown in for that happy occasion. This... this is catered by the Weyr, for the Weyr, to the Weyr, and it appears everyone, or something like the number 'everyone' makes up, has turned out for the event. And for whatever Faranth-awful reason, the resident just has the best timing, doesn't she. Her eyes widen as she, uneducated though she may be, realizes -- to some degree -- what has happened.

N'tai arranges himself and his acquired companion at the edge of a table, notably one with a clear bee-line to the exit if things start to turn ugly with the shawl-less woman. "Everywhere. I was a tr--" That's as far as he and his mirth get before the color leeches out of his face.

Medina flinches and looks around, instantly. She can see nothing from where she is, but from the sound of things, she needs to be where she can see. It would be the first time most people have seen her run. She briefly looks toward Vanya, calling her over with her eyes, then drops beside the fallen figure. "Yevide!" she shouts. Just in case /anyone/ had missed it. She shakes her roughly on the shoulder, puts a hand above her mouth, then feels her pulse on her neck. Medina doesn't know who she is looking at, in the crowd around the Weyrwoman, but she shakes her head slowly. Doesn't even start resuscitation. It would be useless. The dragons know this.

Syn chuckles softly and nods her head. "Wouldn't want to do that..." She sas, flushing a tad more. She gives a small nod of her head. "Ready..." She offers, moving along with J'sek though stopping her movements. The weyrling simply pales, not saying a word towards the other weyrling and simply remaining frozen.

Ginella has nodded at R'vain, given up on Yevide, and just begun to turn, when suddenly the goldrider is looking all around, wildly, and she attempts to follow her gaze. She fails, and begins to turn again when Yevide falls. For a moment, she just stares, then the noise begins and she darts to the goldrider's side, looking at her, patting her cheek... and then looking at R'vain. "What-- how?" A little shake of her head, a huge question: the -hell-?

It's the keening that catches E'sere, in mid-step with Vanya; at once pulling himself away from the healer, he whirls, wide-eyed with realization, and has a glimpse of Yevide crumpling. "I--I'm sorry--" That's all he can manage in answer to his dance partner as he abandons her in favor of pushing through the crowd, bodily shoving gawkers out of his way as he returns to the Weyrwoman's side. "Weyrwoman--Yevide--what happened?" is his disjointed question as he hurries to the forefront, glancing from the woman on the floor to Weyrlingmaster, others ignored.

R'vain is grinning, when Yevide looks so discomposed; that she steadies herself on his arm has him even licking his lips like a feline anticipating the kill. But the wide-eyed, then horrified look on the Weyrlingmaster's face when the Weyrwoman crumples before him suggests that this was not, after all, the way he expected his prey to fall. He takes a step back, breath caught in his throat. "Uh." Swallow. And though the keen of dragons and his own mount's report give him the news, he's a moment later bending forward to try to grab Medina by the shoulder. "What happened," he demands of this woman he doesn't know, who dared to be first at Yevide's side. "What happened!"

E'sere is just as easy to follow now as he was teaching her, and Vanya laughs a little self-consciously. "I didn't mean it like that, honestly," she says softly, her eyes never leaving his face. "In truth, perhaps I was looking forward to this with more anticipation that was proper of me." And her body follows his easily. She is totally enjoying herself, oblivious to most everything else around her when there is a disturbance. A lifting of dragons calling, and it's a sound that sends chills down her spine. Despite the music, she comes to a stop, perhaps instinctively moving closer to E'sere, maybe for protection from whatever is going on. She doesn't know for certain, but it doesn't /sound/ good. "E'sere...?" Her voice is small and there's no disguising the quaking fear in it.

K'rom blinks, smiling at N'ka at first as he sets his plate down, Medina's acidently knocked over plates almost unnoticed. "I'd love...." Kie blinks then since that's as far as he gets. "What the...."

Essdara smiles to Medina, "Aye, take your time, eventually R'vain'll be freen and I'lll corner him." She looks over, just in time to see Yevide fall - and the immidiate scream from outside, and the keening that follows. She goes pale and wavers, and then is away from Medina, shoving her way towards the fallen goldrider with frantic panic written on her face.

N'ka suddenly goes pale, all trace of cheer or joy lost from his expression. The dance is forgotten, and N'ka quickly steps over to K'rom before glancing around the suddenly distraught and confused Living Caverns. "Yevide," he says, his gaze still searching the crowd. "Ulyath's gone Between."

The sudden noise is what hits Aelan first, the girl wincing with shoulders rising protectively towards her ears. And then there's the confusion, the recognition that something very, very bad has just happened and she has no idea what it is, let alone how, a blank look searching the room for the source.

J'sek had been happily leading Syn around the dance floor has best as his inexperience would allow. In fact, as the song progressed he did, indeed, improve steadily. So Syn was correct. But their dance is interupted as Syn freezes and J'sek has to adjust quickly to keep from knocking the both of them over, both his hands now reaching out to grip at her arms or shoulders. His face lacks any of the colour it had before and he's wincing against the sound of the keening. He doesn't say anything but his grip tightens on poor Syn, possibly, if she hasn't moved from it.

J'cor is in the process of summing up a wan smile of greeting for Aida when suddenly Yevide falls, and the crash of draconic mourning hits him. A shock ripples through him and he's off, abandoning Aida and dropping his wine glass as he runs for the last spot he saw the Weyrwoman. She has not, indeed, moved from it, but reaching her quickly has no important effect: she is, of course, dead. J'cor pulls a hand over his eyes, several times in fact, before he seems ready to believe it. Realization hits with a shuddering intake of breath.

G'thon does not have the benefit of a dragon to give him the identity of the dead - but there are few things that send up a cry like this one, few things that shake the skies of High Reaches like all a Weyr's dragons keening pain. The former weyrleader is back on the scene in just moments, minus his greatcoat, running a pale hand over the bald dome of his head as if he had hair to smooth into place. The crowd's press toward the deceased is telling; all he has to do is head toward the spot that everyone's facing. Something of a sick pallor makes his pale countenance paler yet - no doubt he recalls who was last standing in that position.

Head coming up the moment that first draconic scream sounds, Aida is starting to turn to look when J'cor goes bolting off, and so it does not take much for her to spin to watch where he...goes. The last of the color drains from her face as all of it registers in an instant, and her own glass follows to the floor. She stands, she stares. Frozen. Is she breathing? No, probably not.

K'rom blinks a few times as his face pales and he nods at N'ka, "Yes. She is....." Kis takes a breathe the, "I-I need to go. Iusath is.....upset." Kie doesn't even look to see if N'ka follows, but glances towards where toe goldrider has fallen and heads out.

Essdara shoves her way through the gathering crowd, heedless of who it is she pushes, pulls, or elbows to get through. Finally, she breaks into the circle forming around the fallen woman and those that were with her, and those coming to look. A strangled sob escapes her as she looks down; she's no stranger to knowing when a rider has died and the dragon with her, and it's clear enough that Yevide has done so. A few steps closer, close now to R'vain and to Yevide, staring with mute tears at the woman.

N'tai rocks on to his toes for a second, ostensibly to see where Yevide has fallen, or to gauge the time it will take him to untangle from this throng and hit the exit. Good manners bear him to the end, have him turning to Aelan quickly: "I'm sorry. I have to go. She's dead. And Boranth's--" Somewhere else.

Jiann won't even try to approach that crush of humanity; she stays on the outskirts. And while intense sadness does flit across her expression, it is replaced quite swiftly by a blank and stony visage. Jaw set, she turns her gaze elsewhere: the exits. Last time something like this happened, someone was running, trying to escape.

"Yeah, of course," Aelan says quickly to N'tai, nodding once before turning a concerned look at the knot of people as the name being called makes its way to her area and she drops to a seat at the edge of a table, clearly shocked.

N'ka is still scanning the crowed, his mouth a thin line. "Iusath..." he repeats, as if distracted. Realisation comes to him, he shudders, and turns to follow K'rom, his eyes now carefully /away/ from the dead body upon the floor. "Wait," he calls, leaving quickly.

Whoop, party's over. As soon as that utterance of draconic grief hits the living caverns, Tavaly is ushering T'zen down to the infirmary, not without a sharp bark. "Weyrlings to the barracks." To which a couple other senior riders repeat, helping herd the young riders.

N'tai shoves his cup toward Aelan's hand, perhaps to imply she ought to drink it, perhaps just so he doesn't drop it. (There's going to be a lot of broken glass in here amid all these dainty slippers, you know.) Turning a blind eye to the dead body, he hops to Tavaly's bark and hurries out.

E'sere, too, with his less-than-polite pushing and the benefit of an authoritative knot, is quickly through to the front of the crowd as well, freezing as he stares at the fallen goldrider. Involuntarily, he takes a half-step back and then steels himself, staring down at her mutely.

J'cor has dressed for the occasion: nice jacket, nice pants, nice clean undershirt. The latter comes into view suddenly, as he pulls the jacket off his shoulders and kneels next to Medina. "She will.." he tries to tell the healer, tries to summon up some kind of control of the situation. Fails. R'vain, after all, is tugging on her, and yelling something; he leaves the yelling to R'vain. J'cor puts his jacket over Yevide, covering her final expression from the prying eyes of the onlookers.

G'thon has elbows. Normally he need not use them, and even now he will use them as little as possible, only as needed to force through the crowd. Some, those who recognize him and who know already the identity of the dead woman, stand aside to let the former weyrleader pass. So in time he has, near the elbows of his weyrlingmaster and the weyrleader J'cor, a view - a view he can only tolerate a moment before letting out one of those sobs so horrified it defies tears. Only after J'cor goes forward and covers his old lover does Ganathon bow his head and breathe.

Syn keeps frozen in her spot, looking over but not saying a thing. J'sek's grip on her slowly draws a wince before she looks at J'sek in panic. "J'sek..." She murmurs, chewing on her bottom lip. She's not pulling from the tightening grip on her. A pause and she glances at Tavaly. "J'sek... Come on.." She murmurs, reaching for the other weyrling's hand to tug him along with her, still in shock nonetheless.

J'sek finally gets a few words choked out, now seemingly more confused and upset. "Are...Areteth...what's happening?" He briefly glances to Syn again, barely seeming to notice her hand tugging at his. But he follows the other weyrling now, still visibly in shock. He tries hard not to look at the body or the group of people surrounding it. His eyes are wide, but dazed and the weyrling now begins to shake his head several times before disappearing out towards the barracks.

Essdara, mute, alone, unseen. She simply watches as J'cor covers her, as G'thon sobs and looks away, as R'vain demands answers of a woman who can no longer speak. The tears flow freely, though, down her cheeks to her chin, dripping with dark green splotches onto her dress, the moisture staining the dark fabric - unlucky color, indeed.

Issa rushes up from the lower caverns, face flushed, the audible keening throb quickening the steps started by a more mental cue. A low, rumbling repetition of the word, "No," echoes hollowly from her as she weaves, wide-eyed through the crowd that's slowly beginning to orient itself on the fallen Weyrwoman. Leaving Reyce behind to fend for himself, she pushes past the buzzing throng, elbowing and nudging her way until she breaks through, catching sight of the prone body, covered now with the Weyrleader's jacket. She falls silent then, eyes travelling over the scene, disbelief heavily falling across her features. She reaches out a hand to sturdy herself, finding the shoulder of someone standing nearby though she has no regard for who.

Recovering, Medina works quickly, for the moment ignoring R'vain and his pointless question, Medina looks into both of Yevide's eyes, her ears, then her mouth. Then looks again in the mouth. The rest of the examination is made perfunctorily. Again, she looks up, this time searching for a particular face in the crowd. J'cor's. She finds it, and locks her eyes with his. "This wasn't--" suddenly she notices the people around her, lowers her voice. "It wasn't a heart attack. We need to talk in private, soon." Likely a few people have heard her. R'vain, doubtless.

Aida's breath comes back, and for a moment she wobbles on her feet. And then her chin is lifting and she's squaring her jaw, giving a toss of her head, and settling herself. From there, she starts to circle through the cavern, not heading for the scene -- not heading for anywhere in particular, it seems. No, she's shooing people, doing her best to start clearing the cavern and sending people to quieter places. "The party is over," is a reminder that really does not need to be spoken, but it is. Over and over, along with other directions to go.

As her partner goes to desert the dance floor, Vanya notes the air of near panic around. There is no way she'll let herself be left. She grabs his hand, heedless of how many people are bumped or pushed aside, she clings to the Wingleader like glue. It's not without reason, either. She is a healer. She keeps up with him, dress or no, long legs eating up the floor. When they arrive, she manages to shove herself through. "I'm a healer," she says firmly to someone who glares at her. "What was she doing when she fell? eating drinking? Where's her plate or glass?" she asks, fearing the worst.

Nothing. Jiann can glean nothing. She isn't surprised, but at least she made the effort. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she herself is similarly pressed back against the wall of the cavern, remaining out of the way for those who seek to retreat from the scene of death.

Aelan hangs well back of the press, both glasses of wine held numbly for a long moment until sense kicks in and she hops down off the edge of the table and starts picking her way around the edges of the crowd towards Essdara. "Dara," she says quietly. "Dara, they're going to need to...take care of things." She looks up through the crowd, trying to get a gist of how the order-keeping is going.

The remaining guards at High Reaches are somewhat out of order, with their captain in chains, and are slow to respond to the emergency. Most of them are at the back of the press of the crowd, and their raised voices are lost in the din for the moment as they try to back people away from the body.

E'sere certainly didn't notice Vanya trailing him, but when she moves past he leans aside just enough to allow her through, tearing eyes from the body to the healers assembling. Medina in particular, for all he's not familiar with her: he studies the student with slightly narrowed eyes: while he's not quite close enough to hear her, he has a good angle to watch her lips--and anyway, it's not so hard to guess what verdict she might have for the Weyrleader.

"I coulda told you-- " R'vain splutters, then gives up his effort to lay hands on Medina and backs up another pace, face so pale the freckles seem inclined to jump off of him. "Y'got t'get her out of here," he says at last. "Th'Weyr can't watch this."

Ginella has been shoved back behind one or two of the more eager and sharp-elbowed, but she's been watching Medina, half waiting, half staring blankly to avoid staring blankly at the body on the floor. She sees the look at J'cor, the expression, the words, and turns, heading away as quickly as possible. T'ral's hand is grabbed, and she heads out of the cavern, with or without him.

Essdara tenses. Medina's words are all too easily heard, and when Aelan speaks to her, Dara shakes her head slowly. "No." She says, softly, a fierce note to her voice. "No, I'm not going. I never should have listened, never should have stayed away."

"Medina," Vanya says, now moving deliberately forward. "I'm here," she says, making a place for herself. She moves to the other healer, looking around the floor, trying to keep people back as best she can. When there's space, she's beside the student, using what body mass she has to keep others from stepping on anyone. "Please, move back and let her work," she says, voice firm and composed. "Give her room, and please be careful not to disturb ... anything."

G'thon understands in immediate order what Medina's told J'cor, and with a suddenness that speaks of terrible desperation the former weyrleader turns on his weyrlingmaster, a watery glare in his eyes. "The Weyr has been watching this all along," says the old man, but his voice is neither creaky nor aged. He has still the capacity to fill a cavern with his words without resort to shouting - and this is what he does, now, as tears start to leak from his eyes. "The Weyr has watched this for half a turn and done nothing to stop it!" He cannot quite bring himself to glare that hate at J'cor - perhaps he recognizes that the other man, too, must feel personal pain - and lest he pour out any more venom, or dissolve into a weeping fit on the spot, Ganathon turns from the dead woman he once gave as lover's gift an entire Weyr her own, and flees for the comfort of dark corridors.

"Dara, it's too late now," Aelan says quietly, reaching to try to take her friend's elbow with a gentle touch. "There's nothing you can do right now..." She trails off at the former weyrleader's exclamation, eyes widening somewhat, and swallowing afterwards. "Come on," she murmurs, trying to give a gentle tug.

Aida ignores the scene as it continues to unfold, still focusing on thinning the crowd as best as one person can. Back to your dragons, back to the barracks, stop gawking, stop staring. She tries to clear a path to pull guards in further, all of that. It's something to do. Get the masses moving /out/. "You can do the best good out of the way," one Caucus healer is told. "There are healers already on hand." Shocked and stunned people have a tendency to listen; those that offer serious argument are promptly abandoned for easier sheep to herd.

Jiann searches, and finds whom she searches for. There's the dress she recognizes, the expression she expected. It would be virtually impossible to close the distance, however, what with the crowd, and so she waits. She waits and watches: watches as the healer attempts to gain control, watches as the guards similarly attempt to reestablish order, watches G'thon flee. But she can only watch for so long, and so eventually she moves. It is not a great contribution, but she finds -- of all things -- a broom. For there /is/ a lot of broken glass on the floor.

J'cor hardly seems to hear anything, staring at Yevide's covered face. A few adjustments seem necessary to him, a few folds pulled from the fabric so they don't drape over her features or suggest the shapes underneath. Absently, much belatedly, Medina's words register and he looks at the healer, then up at R'vain, who was handling this last he looked, then at G'thon, whose angry words make the Weyrleader stiffen. "/Leave/," he orders the onlookers, gaze passing around the circle. Some of G'thon's anger has transferred itself to him. "There is nothing more to see here." But a pause on R'vain, a small narrowing of his eyes, and a shake of the head. Not you.

"Vanya." It is one word, but it is an order. Get down here, where you can be whispered at . She whispers something in Vanya's ear, then stands, again, away from the body that was Yevide. Then Medina turns, finally, to the man who grabbed her arm. "Weyrlingmaster." A shadow crosses her face, wind passing, perhaps. "Do your Weyrlings need you right now?" she asks pointedly. She turns away before she sees his reaction, drops back to near Vanya. "You collect the glass and plate." She starts to say something to J'cor, but stops. Really no need. He knows it anyway.

The guards finally figure out who's ranking among them, and order begins to unfold. "Lords and ladies, riders, crafters. Unless you are the healer in charge, we need you to back away!" Slowly, they start trying to establish a twenty-foot perimeter around the body, asking a few others to stay. E'sere, R'vain, J'cor are all allowed to remain, along with Medina by the body, but the rest are carefully herded back. "Everyone needs to get back to their rooms or their weyrs, but away from here."

Essdara's arm twitches away, and her eyes mirror the anger of G'thon's words. "There's nothing I ever could do, nothing anyone would listen to. All people wanted was their hate, their superiority. Well, they ought to be happy now, the lot of them." J'cor's words, though, almost cause her to back away; but she simply clenches her jaws, defiantly not moving.

G'thon's outburst draws E'sere's eyes to him, and blankly the wingleader studies the once-rider. Then, shaking his head to dispell such thoughts, at Vanya's orders he gestures over the crowd to a couple of his riders who are also hovering amongst the crowd. Getting the signal, they're quick to take up helping move the crowd back, joining the guards in that endeavor. The wingleader is still watching J'cor and those around him, and he makes no move to exit himself, even while the rest of the herd is dispersed, and fortunately, no one tries to send him away. His face has settled into blankness, any emotion locked away beneath that calm-in-a-crisis exterior.

Reyce was on Issa's heels right up till they reentered the cavern, and there he stopped at the entrance to lean against a wall and watch warily. The guards' orders draw his head up as he listens, then moves away from his wall obediently and out to the Bowl. Somewhere in there is a pause, an attempt to find Issa and catch her eye, but regardless of whether he does, his pace towards the exit is uninterrupted and he soon moves outside.

R'vain, apparently, said the wrong thing, and is left staring after the old Weyrleader's exit with jaw wanting to slip out of joint. "Uh," he can say without having to regain control of his mouth all the way. He catches J'cor's meaningful /look/; he catches, more to the point, Medina's words. At those he finally swallows, and there's something very red about the rims of his eyes and the bulk of his nose despite never yet having managed to get his precious glass of wine. "They got Ruvoth," he rasps to the healer. "And Tavaly. But I should-- I should-- " His swallow is audible, his eyes wide. Can he be this stupid? He can be. "I don't think I can stand t'see them yet. I got t'get a drink."

If it is within her power, Vanya will do just that. "Everyone please. Watch your steps." She looks around, and eventually spots the glass the dead woman was holding when she fell. She literally makes a dive for it before a careless foot sends it flying. It's near her leg, and though mostly empty, still has a drop or two of something in it. She claims the prize, rudely shoving some one aside and rises triumphantly. "I have it, Medina. It still has a few drops in it." She shoots a grateful glance toward E'sere, then Dara. "Please Dara, you will do more good helping keep others back," she says quietly, hoping to be heard and appealing to Aelan for help.

Who notices drudges, or workers who quietly tend to their duties in the background? Jiann does, therefore, get a bit of sweeping done, glass, ceramic shards, dropped food and more made into a pile. If shouts and wails and whatnot die down, the rhythmic swish swish swish of the broom may be audible.

Issa, like so many others, is frozen to the spot, despite the urgings from the healer to step away, despite the heavy words of the former weyrleader. It takes the physical touch from a guard to stir the greenrider from her survey of the scene formed before her. Stunned eyes drift up to find the face of an older man, telling her to return to her weyr, before turning on those still huddled around the fallen Yevide. She finds first J'cor's face, then E'sere's, lingering on the wingleader for some time as she says clearly, "I have to go." "That's what I've been tellin' ya, miss," the guard responds, reserving himself to still mild urgings despite her stubborn resistance. "You've gotta go." "I have to go," she repeats, tearing her eyes away and turning to head out to the bowl.

Aida gives up on her efforts once the guards and riders take it up in earnest, and so she finds herself a new glass of wine and a well, well out of the way table to lean up against. The headmaster's assistant, still composed (if more than a bit pale), sips from her glass and now watches from a distance. One presumes that she found a moment to speak with Br'ce, for the Wingleader of 3C has gone, not to be found amongst the onlookers.

J'cor pushes himself to his feet, a hand reaching out to grab R'vain by the elbow before the other man can retreat in search of that drink - though it's not going to hold if R'vain fights it, given they're both dragonriders in good shape, but J'cor is the smaller man. "Drink all you want," he says quietly, reeling himself closer to the Weyrlingmaster by virtue of that placed hand. "Later." His words are quiet, but audible to R'vain. "Right now, you stay."

E'sere seems ignorant of, or at least ignoring, Issa's steady stare in favor of watching J'cor, R'vain, and the healers intently. It's only the greenrider's holding out that draws a glance from him, brows furrowed as he meets her eyes a moment, and then looks away again, downward at the body. He shakes his head once, lips pursing, and then fixes the Weyr's remaining leaders with another look as he steps closer to them, announcing his presence with a simple, "Weyrleader. Weyrlingmaster."

Medina winces at the tone of Vanya's voice. But mostly the only ones still here are those that need to be here. The Weyrleader. The Wingleader. Even the Weyrlingmaster. She turns, looks each of them in the eye, ensures she has their attention. "You have probably already worked out that Yevide did not die naturally. And where she is, and how she died suggests she did not die of her own hand. What you do with that information is not for me to say. I will stay if you want me to, but in a professional capacity, I have nothing more to do." Medina pauses, waits for instructions.

"Oh, thanks for your permission," spits R'vain, and jerks his arm free from J'cor's grasp-- but the Weyrlingmaster does as bid, in spirit anyway, and stays his place. Grumbling, "Someone could /bring/ me a drink," he has nothing but a sidelong, narrow-eyed glare of pure resentment for E'sere.

A frown from Essdara. Not for Vanya's words, not for Aelan's urgings. Her gaze moves from the body, to the man she was with when it happens. "Of course you do. Flee into a glass, that will make everything better." Disgust and anger in her words - and a whole lot of dissapointment. She looks back to the body a moment, and then to Vanya. And as Medina speaks, abruptly, the anger drains away, and with it her expression falls. "I'll go. You're all perfectly right, there's not a thing I can do with this, with anything." A sad, resigned smirk. "After all, I'm just a cook, just a girl." And finally, she turns away to move away towards the lower caverns.

"Dara, if you don't leave on your own, the guards will pick you up and take you away," Aelan explains patiently, giving a 'one more minute' look to a hovering guard even as she says it. "You're not..." And then she's moving away, and the relief in Aelan's expression is mingled with a touch of guilt. "Dara..." She trails off, letting out a slow breath and starting after the other girl.

Once a section of the perimeter is free of crackling, glassy debris, Jiann sets her broom aside, there to be taken up by a drudge or other resident, no doubt. Eventually. Maybe it is the guards' adamant order; maybe it is because she's had enough; maybe it is because she feels someone may need her elsewhere. For any of these reasons, or even all of the above, she begins to pick her way out.

There's a draining of color from Vanya's face, as well, and she bites her bottom lip. The glass is held almost like a security blanket in front of her, her expression stunned. She looks from one to the other of those gathered, and then at E'sere. For a long time, she looks at him, replaying the evening. Finally, she takes a breath. "Medina, what do you need of me." Quietly, without any real emotion, either. "You were first on the scene, and it's your call for the healers." As for the others, she looks around again, taking note of the knots, and recognizes the Weyrleader. She regards him for an equally long moment. Then down to the woman on the floor. There her gaze remains.

R'vain, having such good luck with timing tonight, only hears Essdara after it's too late and is left to watch her depart, helpless. Mollified, maybe-- but helpless. The numbness begins to set in, and fidgeting because he has no pockets and thus nowhere to stow his paws, the Weyrlingmaster fixes a baleful stare upon Yevide's form and waits like his master's hound for instruction.

Clearly, the token force of guards remaining is not really enough to enforce a clearing of the space, particularly when there's a been a party involving the majority of the population. Wingleaders and wingseconds are pressed into service clearing the room, the wingleaders not around the former Weyrwoman gathering their wings around them and leading them out, and free wingseconds herding weyrfolk out while instructors begin to clear out the Caucus students.

J'cor allows the arm to be jerked free, snapping his own fingers back as one of them catches and gets yanked in the fold of the other man's shirtsleeve. His thumb, apparently, dug in more than he meant it to. Closing that hand into a fist, he folds it over his chest and looks from E'sere to Medina. A finger raises from the clenched fist to forestall the former while he listens to the latter, offering only the smallest, slowest incline of a nod when she is done. "Very well. The body, journeyman, will need - " he struggles with the word, but can't get out anything direct, so he settles on, "attendance."

Aida summons up a scathing look for the man who attempts to clear her out, maintaining her almost casual lean and sipping from her glass. No argument is offered, no words are spoken, just a look of doom and absolutely not a bit of movement. She is eventually abandoned, left to be dealt with by someone else who might have more luck. Only then does the neutral look descend on her face again, and she turns her head to go back to watching from her distance.

Essdara is mute as she passes out of the caverns, banished once more. If her friends are following, it doesn't seem to register with her. Through the remains of her second party, and her second tragedy at one, she is soon gone into the lower caverns.