Unexpected Guests
Location: Five Mines
Tme: Early morning on Day 2, Month 10, Turn 3
Players: J'lor, Derek, E'sere, Tavaly, Vanya, Vellath, Immath
Scene: Immath and Tavaly arrive with Vanya. They have goods and news. Everyone seems outwardly glad to receive both.
It's early morning and the rising sun stretches long shadows across the pit of Five Mines Hold. Within, the 'bowl' is a bustling hive of activity as people wake and begin their days. The riders have already finished morning drills, as in a means to avoid the sweepriders, they begin them a good hour before dawn. A tall, lean, middle-aged man with his brown hair tied back is speaking with two young men and a woman, a quartet of dragons resting nearby. An older blue, dark in color, is studying a small and youthful green who is curled up and sleeping. Judging from the way the girl yawns, it's what she'd like to be doing as well. Another young blue and a brown recline nearby, more alert, as the older man finishes imparting his early morning words to the trio.
The hold has a courtyard of sorts; only part of a wall encloses it, but the land within is cobbled with stones and there's an obvious path beaten through the dust and debris on the vast floor of the mine that leads from the road on up to that cobbled square. In that courtyard a half-dozen men are arranged in pairs, each pair obviously containing an older man and a younger one - 35 and up on one side, 30 and down on the other, with the gap often fairly wide. They face one another, and though none of them looks too serious - there are smiles there to spare - they are all silent, listening obviously to the soft (it must be soft) speech of the black-haired, black-mustached man who paces between them. He emphasizes his words, whatever they are, with a little hammer of one fist into the opposite palm.
Early. And in this weather, the mindset of 'sooner there, sooner dry' is keen among many, in the current drizzle that, for all it's wetness, manages not to stretch this far yet. Soon it'll come, yes, but right now, Five Mines seems to have been spared. A telling of the rain to come, the sky outside of the Hold's immediate vicinity is empty up until a green appears out of thin air. Large. Wings glistening with the rain that will, in however long, probably sweep over the Mines. Neck and legs burdened with many things. Bags, nets. Things containing more things and two people upon the large green's straps, dressed under heavy riding gear with hoods. It is still early, and because of that, the green's vocal greeting is meant only for one. One that is familiar. One that, if only by her rider's memory, is familiar thanks to a certain 'fall over a certain Hold that was not supposed to happen. According to People, anyway.
And still, loud and clear, for Vellath the message is a bell sounding in the deep, a scattering of green birds entering the older blue's morning thoughts. We come with talk, and with offerings. We come with medicine for your ill, and one who can teach well how to use it. We are here in peace. Will you accept us and our offerings? Also in peace? Is the posed question. There upon wide open air, the green hangs, neck stretched down toward the dots of people and blurs of dragons.
Morelenth is invisible, hidden away again within his weyr during the waking hours, while his rider roves the small hold. E'sere, like many others, is simply enjoying the fall weather, the cool in stark contrast to the sweltering humidity of the islands--though the drizzle has driven them under a bare awning of shelter against the hold, they're none of them, even the vain bronzerider, looking bothered by it. With him are a couple of other riders, another resident or two--his court for the moment, as E'sere discusses some unweighty matter with them, the conversation lazy and casual after the form of drills much earlier.
Vanya is grateful for the warm, fur-lined coat Tavaly just gave her before they left High Reaches Weyr. As always, she shivers when Immath comes out of Between, and tries to focus on where they are as the green hovers over what looks like an open pit. She catches a glimpse of people and dragons below, but it's not until Immath is lower that Vanya gets a good look at them. She's not really nervous about this trip, although the fluttering of her stomach might disprove that. Still, she's securely strapped onto the dragon, riding comfortably between Tavaly and what looks to be a LOT of useful, needed things for the people at Five Mines. Included amidst the clothing, seeds, tools and all, are medical supplies which Vanya personally selected and packed. The Healer cranes her neck to look down as she and Tavaly wait for either an invitation to land -- or a rejection.
The arrival of an unknown green has those dragons out in the courtyard immediately standing and moving towards their own weyrs and cover. It's habit now, and the three weyrlings are dismissed as J'lor looks up, eyes squinting into the hazy grey, to try and figure out why it is this particular dragon looks so lumpy and misshapen. Vellath has pushed to his feet, but he stops moving once the contact is made. Head tipping to the side in the thoughtful motion, the message is relayed. J'lor squints harder, pushing up onto his toes as if that would do him a single lick of good in better viewing a distant dragon. Vellath's message has far better success in reaching the large and soaring Immath. We will do so. You may land. Imperious for a blue, the words are offered with the expectation that such information, once given, will be followed.
It's not the dragon flying over, or even the fact that she lands, that draws the attention of those seven men in the courtyard. It's the attention she garners from all the other dragons. The young men look first; then the older ones. Finally the black-haired one, who stops his speaking to pay attention. Though the sky is gray he lifts a hand to shield his pale eyes from the light, looking. The sudden flattening of his other hand beside his hip, fingers stretched, holds back the other men for the moment; in silence, they all seven watch.
Without Morelenth to watch, E'sere takes a split-second longer to realize the green arriving is not one of the exiles. But the immediate attention lavished on Immath has him looking around, and then his eyes narrowing as he takes in the very familiar young green. With polite smiles, he excuses himself from the conversation at hand, allowing his uneasy companions equal opportunity to slink into the main hold. The bronzerider, however, has no such plans: he steps forward, moving carefully across the courtyard toward J'lor to stop a couple of yards away, and study the green again with no expression.
Another few wingbeats high above while one rider turns to her companion behind. Obviously exchanging the otherwise unheard conversation. Once their brief palaver is discontinued, the rider to the fore raises one hand and waves once to J'lor. They will choose a good spot, first. The open pit is a fine place, of course. And a place where very few people are gathered. It is fortunate, however, that this space that Immath now occupies, is near enough J'lor for distinct shapes to be made out. What were lumps before are now the nets and giant, bulging bags. There bundles of lumber that had moments before dangled from the green's fore-talons, now set down a few spaces behind where the green lands. Likewise, shapes become clearer for the riders. Two in particular, stay the riders' dismount. J'lor and the man behind him. The person at the fore turns to the aft again and speaks into the material of her hood, then dismounts. Goggles, a hood, and the peaking of a scarf conceal her face for a moment. She steps up behind the lumber that'd been set down. One bundle comes up to her waist. There, she waits, peeling goggles and good and scarf down, and even offering a wide, friendly smile to J'lor. Another wave, and, to spare shouting, a circular motion that communicates, 'C'mon down!'
Vanya's stomach lurches as, apparently, Immath is granted leave to land and does so with a back-sweep of her wings. Even laden as she is with things and two people, her descent is a study in fluid grace. There is a nod to acknowledge something which the rider says over her shoulder to her passenger, and a pat on the back in case the nod is missed. But it's mostly the people she sees in the open area which draws her attention. Not that she'd be easily recognized; the hood of her coat is drawn up, and the riding goggles hide most of her face. Easier for her to recognize one amongst those in the courtyard, although she says nothing to the rider in front of her. Once Immath is on the ground, she remains atop the green while her companion dismounts. Vanya unbuckles the straps, but doesn't move to follow. At least not immediately. When she gets the signal, she complies. Once afoot, hood, gloves and goggles are likewise removed.
The green is given her time to land, and brown brows shoot upwards as the lumps resolve themselves into many many sacks of things. At the second wave, the bluerider begins to stride towards Immath and her two passengers, although Vellath remains where he sits. Neither one of them seem to notice E'sere watching from a few yards behind. "Faranth," the tall man calls, his tenor warm and rolling, "it looks like you brought the whole Weyr with you. Thank you for coming. My name's J'lor." Though the pit is big, it is not exactly empty, and the arrival of an unfamiliar dragon begins to draw a cautious crowd, some of whom keep closer to Vellath and some of whom try their best to keep a healthy distance from both dragons.
Pale blue eyes watch J'lor more than they watch Immath and her cargo. Then Derek puts up a hand quickly, softly on the shoulder of one of the older men - he's brown-haired, weathered from sun and work with deep creases in his face - and in a moment more the two of them are treading out of the courtyard toward the new green and her riders. The more Derek walks, the more his expression seems grey and forbidding; his demeanor passes on to the man at his side by the time they're coming up to join the ring of small crowd that's forming. That ring forms a gap around them, for none of the other onlookers seem desperate to stand too close.
It is hard to recall what exactly her expectations were of the people when she and the other got there, but the raised brows and deepening grin are sure signs that J'lor was nowhere on the list. At least, not with an attitude such as he presents. "Were I riding bigger, we might have been able to bring more. As it is, we can only hope that what we did manage to bring, this trip, will give you at least a little edge for the coming months. There are jackets and boots for your riders. Some warmer linens for your womenfolk. Tools of varyin' use. The lumber, of course. And medicine." She is paused in her listing as E'sere strides forward. While J'lor received a smile, the bronzerider will find the woman's features neutral as they face him. And then smirking as she corrects, gently, "Three-cee, actually. Long story." A wink, and then Tavaly backsteps to join Vanya, a hand on the woman's shoulder. "She has graciously come with me with a means to treat your ill or injured while we are here. It is Vanya who has provided the medicine. She's also intent on teaching some first aide to any willin' to learn it, you ever have need of it. Faranth willin', y'don't, but.." A shrug. She looks toward her riding partner, brows up. This is fun, right?
It's impossible to tell what the Journeyman Healer is thinking. Her face is a mask of pleasant neutrality, her demeanor cautious, as befits anyone walking into unfamiliar, possibly hostile, territory. Her attention turns to the tall man who first approaches, studying him from a few paces behind Tavaly. In fact, she remains in close proximity to Immath, not venturing more than a step or two from the green. E'sere's voice draws her attention, and she turns in his direction. It's a calm, composed expression with which the bronzerider is viewed; that she recognizes E'sere is obvious, but what Vanya thinks --? Not so easily discernible. At the moment, she takes her lead from the rider. So when Tavaly presents her, she allows neutrality to break. "Indeed, sir," she responds, nodding to J'lor. "If your people have need of a Healer, I'm at your disposal. I brought herbs, medicine, bandages, some medical instruments and texts on the treatment of cold-related illness and injury." Her voice is quiet, her words spoken almost gently.
Well. Now the bluerider notices E'sere. He looks sharply over his shoulder as the bronzerider speaks and this also give him ample time to notice, amid the circle of onlookers, a man with a mustache and pale pales. His gaze holds there for a beat before turning away and settling on the now-named Tavaly and Vanya. "Well met," J'lor offers quietly. "Thank you...Tavaly, is it? And Vanya. We have a healer with us and there are some among us who know first aid, but medicine is never unappreciated. We...no. Just now, we are all well, save for minor aches and pains." But for some reason this news, which ought to be good, is delivered with a tinge of sadness in his voice. "If you would be willing to speak with our healer when we bring her the supplies you've generously offered, she could say, better than I, what instruction, if any, is needed." He offers the pair of them a small smile, head ducking downward. "Just 'J'lor', if you please. No need for 'sir'." His last words are more directly for Tavaly. "May we assist you in unloading your Immath of her burdens?"
"Help J'lor," comes Derek's order in the background. His voice is distant, sweet and sandy-soft, ill-matched to his looks. As the brown-haired fellow steps forward, hands out, to offer his help - little can he do without being told, now, as he's unwilling to approach Immath too directly without permission. Derek, for his part, trods up toward J'lor's side, arms crossed; the glance that flicks across the bluerider is meant not for -him- but for E'sere. A hint of a smile disappears his mouth and curls the corner of the mustache.
The exchange between Vanya and J'lor is witnessed quietly, Tav's gaze sweeping between bluerider and healer. At J'lor's offer, Tavaly nods her head once. "It would be most appreciated, yes. Let us know, also, where we can be putting these." Something said otherwise catches the Greenrider's attention, and Tav grins widely at E'sere. "There's plenty of time for that, later. 'Sides. Vanya agreed to help me unload once we got here, and I'm not about to let her get out of that so easily." She nudges the woman's arm next to her and then steps toward Immath, who is tilting her head every which way as more and more new faces appear. To one, in particular, she honks. At E'sere.
Vanya smiles at the nudge, nodding. "I did, yes, and I'm a woman of my word," Vanya replies to Tavaly. She stuffs the gloves in a pocket of her coat, likewise the goggles, as she turns back toward Immath. She actually says very little else, save for a glance in E'sere's direction, studying him for a long moment. "I'll be happy to speak with your healers," she says, obviously to J'lor. "I'm here to help." Simple words, meaning exactly that. She's there to offer assistance, not walk in and take over. "Where should I start, Tavaly?" she then asks the greenrider. "I have no idea where everything ended up." Hands on her hips, she surveys the laden green dragon with a shake of her head.
At Derek's quiet words, a couple other figures, a few of the men lingering near Vellath, step forward along with the one situated close to Derek. J'lor offers those brave souls a nod and a flick with one hand to invite them closer. They nod in return and move towards Immath, hands reaching up to begin to work bundles free of nets. At E'sere's 'sir', the bluerider clenches his jaw just a wee bit, draws in a slow breath. "Just our healer. If you could bring her, I'd appreciate it. All things considered, I don't believe K'tric need be involved just at the moment. Thank you." His eyes dart towards the hold. Where E'sere in meant to be going now. Then, pushing his hands into his pockets, J'lor looks back to the two new arrivals. "We'll get everything situated. Immath told Vellath you brought supplies and...'talk'?" One dark brow hitches upwards in silent question.
"Hello, Immath," E'sere offers that honking green with a broader smile, fondly familiar. "You look well as ever--but excuse me," he bows out with another wry smile at J'lor's request, as he turns to do as bid, disappearing inside for a very brief time. Word is apparently already traveling, because the healer is close enough at hand--or he's just hurrying that quickly, to avoid missing any of the actual talking--that it doesn't talk more than a handful of minutes for him to return with her, leading her back over to the laden green.
"Your guess is as good as mine at this point." Tav says, face wreathed with smiles as she beckons the group closer. Immath, to her credit, remains quiet and still. If anyone is skittish around dragons, she'll not be the one to make that skittishness worse. Today. Sphinx-like, she lowers, the bags and nets and sacks all billowing out to either side of her, wings folding precariously above the lot. "I think if we start at the top, she'll be able just to step out of the heavier things on the bottom. So, top, it is!" Tav's right hand grips the straps and she haul's herself up, offering a hand to Vanya. "We'll untie the knots up here and hand stuff down, if that's all right?" She looks to J'lor. At his question of Talk, the greenrider smiles. "Yes. We've also brought charts for you and your riders. Once we get Immath unloaded and catch our breaths, I'll be happy to go over the charts we've brought, if you like?" Already her fingers are undoing knots, the left hand having a rougher go of it, but managing.
Vanya has a smile for those men who are helping to unload the dragon, friendly but not patronizing. She offers verbal instruction as to which bags contain fragile items, and takes a few down herself, carefully setting them aside. She doesn't seem overly hampered by the coat, or the drizzling rain, merely putting the hood back up if the drops should grow in size. In fact, she's so occupied by helping unload Immath that she doesn't see E'sere disappear into the hold, or his return. The Healer seems to be going over a mental inventory list, which keeps her fairly busy. When Tavaly offers the hand up, she gladly takes it, mounting the dragon with smooth, practiced ease -- so different from when she first arrived at the weyr. Now perched atop the dragon, she starts loosening straps and ropes. "Look out below," she sings out, grinning.
The bluerider looks, finally, to the other man beside him. The one with the mustache. "Tavaly," he offers with a small nod towards the greenrider. "And the healer Vanya." And then, to the two preoccupied women, "This is Derek." And with that serving as an introduction, J'lor takes his place among the growing cluster of those awaiting bundles that can be carried off into the hold. The exiled healer, on her arrival with E'sere, watches those bundles with a terse expression and sharp eyes.
Derek's man tends to helping unload Immath just as the other men J'lor directed do. Derek himself does other things; he watches E'sere go and return, and watches the tall bluerider in interim. Only when J'lor introduces him does he lend his voice to the situation. "Thank you, J'lor," he says first, kindly. "Tavaly. Journeyman." If there is some kind of - intonation - on the healer's ranking title, it is subtle, no match for the sandy sweetness with which he speaks. "I will inform our Lord that we have guests of a diplomatic nature, hailing from High Reaches Weyr." A glance at E'sere. "Correct?"
But Derek does not wait for that confirmation; he treads off toward the Hold, boots crunching in the increasingly damp dust.
"Yes, sir," agrees E'sere, with a nod for Derek as the man departs. He's silent then, having done his part in bringing the healer, apparently: he does not approach Immath any closer, keeping a more reserved vigil further back while the other willing hands assist in the unloading of the gifted supplies.
Vanya's enthusiasm has bolstered the Greenrider's spirits even further, and knots come undone left and right. She is not, however, so engrossed that she does not catch another introduction that comes. When the name leaves the bluerider's lips, Tav turns to study the man a moment, blinking. A amiable smile rises to her lips and she bows her head to the man. "Well met. And yes, thank you. I would like to request an audience with the Lord Odern, when and if he has the time." She says, and then the man is moving away, Tav's blue eyes following his disappearance. At a cue from the green, however, She returns to undoing knots, handing down supplies.
Once the majority of the nets and bags and packages are loosened from their ropes, the rest of the unloading is fairly easily accomplished. Vanya waits until the last bundle of dried herbs is lowered, then turns to Tavaly. Her gaze then falls to Derek, who's remained slightly away. "Yes, well met," she echoes, "and thank you, as well." Then, when Derek moves away, she turns to Tavaly. "If you don't need me any longer, I'd like to talk to the Healer." Her voice is soft, but not meant as a whisper. "Or, I can go with you for the meeting with Lord Odern. Either is fine with me."
The bluerider's gaze flicks over Derek as he departs and then mostly to the bags as they come down. But, occasionally, he glances up to see Tavaly's rather intrigued study of the departing ex-captain. With the last of the things beginning to filter away, J'lor dusts his hands together. The bluerider offers to Tavaly, "would you mind an escort? I can wait outside and then we could go over those charts...threadfall charts, do you mean? helpful." "If you like," begins the watchful and wary healer to the Journeyman, "I can show you what we've got serving as an infirmary. Wouldn't mind a list of what you've brought, either."
With the women atop her back, Immath rises slowly and steps out from between the two biggest parcels and settles further back, away from the wary men who now tend to the supplies. Sliding down, Tav offers Vanya a hand and leads her down. Hearing J'lor and the healer, Tav looks first to Vanya with an expression akin to, 'Are you okay with this?' then to J'lor. "That should not be a problem. I would not mind an escort, at all. And yes. Threadfall charts of this area and surrounding, for aide with patterns." She offers a further explanation. Spying Vanya's affirmative, the greenrider gives a solid nod, casting a glance to Immath before turning to J'lor, a satchel at her side, now, and allowing herself to be.. well, escorted.
Vanya dismounts from Immath, sliding down to her foreleg and then to the ground with Tavaly's help. A glance back to Tavaly and she's grinning, nodding to the rider, then immediately turning her attention to the Healer. "That would be good," she replies, again nodding. "And, here's the complete list," she affirms, digging into her pocket for a hide. "I brought several bottles of elixir I've found helps with coughs and congestion, since that's likely that's likely what your people will suffer most coming from a warm climate to a much colder one." There's no looking down her nose at the woman, no flouting of rank. In fact, Vanya's not even wearing a knot. It's just one healer to another. The list is handed over, and Vanya heads over to a pile of bundles. From the look of things, Vanya will be occupied with this for quite a while, and in typical healer fashion, everyone else seems to have been tuned out.
Tme: Early morning on Day 2, Month 10, Turn 3
Players: J'lor, Derek, E'sere, Tavaly, Vanya, Vellath, Immath
Scene: Immath and Tavaly arrive with Vanya. They have goods and news. Everyone seems outwardly glad to receive both.
It's early morning and the rising sun stretches long shadows across the pit of Five Mines Hold. Within, the 'bowl' is a bustling hive of activity as people wake and begin their days. The riders have already finished morning drills, as in a means to avoid the sweepriders, they begin them a good hour before dawn. A tall, lean, middle-aged man with his brown hair tied back is speaking with two young men and a woman, a quartet of dragons resting nearby. An older blue, dark in color, is studying a small and youthful green who is curled up and sleeping. Judging from the way the girl yawns, it's what she'd like to be doing as well. Another young blue and a brown recline nearby, more alert, as the older man finishes imparting his early morning words to the trio.
The hold has a courtyard of sorts; only part of a wall encloses it, but the land within is cobbled with stones and there's an obvious path beaten through the dust and debris on the vast floor of the mine that leads from the road on up to that cobbled square. In that courtyard a half-dozen men are arranged in pairs, each pair obviously containing an older man and a younger one - 35 and up on one side, 30 and down on the other, with the gap often fairly wide. They face one another, and though none of them looks too serious - there are smiles there to spare - they are all silent, listening obviously to the soft (it must be soft) speech of the black-haired, black-mustached man who paces between them. He emphasizes his words, whatever they are, with a little hammer of one fist into the opposite palm.
Early. And in this weather, the mindset of 'sooner there, sooner dry' is keen among many, in the current drizzle that, for all it's wetness, manages not to stretch this far yet. Soon it'll come, yes, but right now, Five Mines seems to have been spared. A telling of the rain to come, the sky outside of the Hold's immediate vicinity is empty up until a green appears out of thin air. Large. Wings glistening with the rain that will, in however long, probably sweep over the Mines. Neck and legs burdened with many things. Bags, nets. Things containing more things and two people upon the large green's straps, dressed under heavy riding gear with hoods. It is still early, and because of that, the green's vocal greeting is meant only for one. One that is familiar. One that, if only by her rider's memory, is familiar thanks to a certain 'fall over a certain Hold that was not supposed to happen. According to People, anyway.
And still, loud and clear, for Vellath the message is a bell sounding in the deep, a scattering of green birds entering the older blue's morning thoughts. We come with talk, and with offerings. We come with medicine for your ill, and one who can teach well how to use it. We are here in peace. Will you accept us and our offerings? Also in peace? Is the posed question. There upon wide open air, the green hangs, neck stretched down toward the dots of people and blurs of dragons.
Morelenth is invisible, hidden away again within his weyr during the waking hours, while his rider roves the small hold. E'sere, like many others, is simply enjoying the fall weather, the cool in stark contrast to the sweltering humidity of the islands--though the drizzle has driven them under a bare awning of shelter against the hold, they're none of them, even the vain bronzerider, looking bothered by it. With him are a couple of other riders, another resident or two--his court for the moment, as E'sere discusses some unweighty matter with them, the conversation lazy and casual after the form of drills much earlier.
Vanya is grateful for the warm, fur-lined coat Tavaly just gave her before they left High Reaches Weyr. As always, she shivers when Immath comes out of Between, and tries to focus on where they are as the green hovers over what looks like an open pit. She catches a glimpse of people and dragons below, but it's not until Immath is lower that Vanya gets a good look at them. She's not really nervous about this trip, although the fluttering of her stomach might disprove that. Still, she's securely strapped onto the dragon, riding comfortably between Tavaly and what looks to be a LOT of useful, needed things for the people at Five Mines. Included amidst the clothing, seeds, tools and all, are medical supplies which Vanya personally selected and packed. The Healer cranes her neck to look down as she and Tavaly wait for either an invitation to land -- or a rejection.
The arrival of an unknown green has those dragons out in the courtyard immediately standing and moving towards their own weyrs and cover. It's habit now, and the three weyrlings are dismissed as J'lor looks up, eyes squinting into the hazy grey, to try and figure out why it is this particular dragon looks so lumpy and misshapen. Vellath has pushed to his feet, but he stops moving once the contact is made. Head tipping to the side in the thoughtful motion, the message is relayed. J'lor squints harder, pushing up onto his toes as if that would do him a single lick of good in better viewing a distant dragon. Vellath's message has far better success in reaching the large and soaring Immath. We will do so. You may land. Imperious for a blue, the words are offered with the expectation that such information, once given, will be followed.
It's not the dragon flying over, or even the fact that she lands, that draws the attention of those seven men in the courtyard. It's the attention she garners from all the other dragons. The young men look first; then the older ones. Finally the black-haired one, who stops his speaking to pay attention. Though the sky is gray he lifts a hand to shield his pale eyes from the light, looking. The sudden flattening of his other hand beside his hip, fingers stretched, holds back the other men for the moment; in silence, they all seven watch.
Without Morelenth to watch, E'sere takes a split-second longer to realize the green arriving is not one of the exiles. But the immediate attention lavished on Immath has him looking around, and then his eyes narrowing as he takes in the very familiar young green. With polite smiles, he excuses himself from the conversation at hand, allowing his uneasy companions equal opportunity to slink into the main hold. The bronzerider, however, has no such plans: he steps forward, moving carefully across the courtyard toward J'lor to stop a couple of yards away, and study the green again with no expression.
Another few wingbeats high above while one rider turns to her companion behind. Obviously exchanging the otherwise unheard conversation. Once their brief palaver is discontinued, the rider to the fore raises one hand and waves once to J'lor. They will choose a good spot, first. The open pit is a fine place, of course. And a place where very few people are gathered. It is fortunate, however, that this space that Immath now occupies, is near enough J'lor for distinct shapes to be made out. What were lumps before are now the nets and giant, bulging bags. There bundles of lumber that had moments before dangled from the green's fore-talons, now set down a few spaces behind where the green lands. Likewise, shapes become clearer for the riders. Two in particular, stay the riders' dismount. J'lor and the man behind him. The person at the fore turns to the aft again and speaks into the material of her hood, then dismounts. Goggles, a hood, and the peaking of a scarf conceal her face for a moment. She steps up behind the lumber that'd been set down. One bundle comes up to her waist. There, she waits, peeling goggles and good and scarf down, and even offering a wide, friendly smile to J'lor. Another wave, and, to spare shouting, a circular motion that communicates, 'C'mon down!'
Vanya's stomach lurches as, apparently, Immath is granted leave to land and does so with a back-sweep of her wings. Even laden as she is with things and two people, her descent is a study in fluid grace. There is a nod to acknowledge something which the rider says over her shoulder to her passenger, and a pat on the back in case the nod is missed. But it's mostly the people she sees in the open area which draws her attention. Not that she'd be easily recognized; the hood of her coat is drawn up, and the riding goggles hide most of her face. Easier for her to recognize one amongst those in the courtyard, although she says nothing to the rider in front of her. Once Immath is on the ground, she remains atop the green while her companion dismounts. Vanya unbuckles the straps, but doesn't move to follow. At least not immediately. When she gets the signal, she complies. Once afoot, hood, gloves and goggles are likewise removed.
The green is given her time to land, and brown brows shoot upwards as the lumps resolve themselves into many many sacks of things. At the second wave, the bluerider begins to stride towards Immath and her two passengers, although Vellath remains where he sits. Neither one of them seem to notice E'sere watching from a few yards behind. "Faranth," the tall man calls, his tenor warm and rolling, "it looks like you brought the whole Weyr with you. Thank you for coming. My name's J'lor." Though the pit is big, it is not exactly empty, and the arrival of an unfamiliar dragon begins to draw a cautious crowd, some of whom keep closer to Vellath and some of whom try their best to keep a healthy distance from both dragons.
Pale blue eyes watch J'lor more than they watch Immath and her cargo. Then Derek puts up a hand quickly, softly on the shoulder of one of the older men - he's brown-haired, weathered from sun and work with deep creases in his face - and in a moment more the two of them are treading out of the courtyard toward the new green and her riders. The more Derek walks, the more his expression seems grey and forbidding; his demeanor passes on to the man at his side by the time they're coming up to join the ring of small crowd that's forming. That ring forms a gap around them, for none of the other onlookers seem desperate to stand too close.
It is hard to recall what exactly her expectations were of the people when she and the other got there, but the raised brows and deepening grin are sure signs that J'lor was nowhere on the list. At least, not with an attitude such as he presents. "Were I riding bigger, we might have been able to bring more. As it is, we can only hope that what we did manage to bring, this trip, will give you at least a little edge for the coming months. There are jackets and boots for your riders. Some warmer linens for your womenfolk. Tools of varyin' use. The lumber, of course. And medicine." She is paused in her listing as E'sere strides forward. While J'lor received a smile, the bronzerider will find the woman's features neutral as they face him. And then smirking as she corrects, gently, "Three-cee, actually. Long story." A wink, and then Tavaly backsteps to join Vanya, a hand on the woman's shoulder. "She has graciously come with me with a means to treat your ill or injured while we are here. It is Vanya who has provided the medicine. She's also intent on teaching some first aide to any willin' to learn it, you ever have need of it. Faranth willin', y'don't, but.." A shrug. She looks toward her riding partner, brows up. This is fun, right?
It's impossible to tell what the Journeyman Healer is thinking. Her face is a mask of pleasant neutrality, her demeanor cautious, as befits anyone walking into unfamiliar, possibly hostile, territory. Her attention turns to the tall man who first approaches, studying him from a few paces behind Tavaly. In fact, she remains in close proximity to Immath, not venturing more than a step or two from the green. E'sere's voice draws her attention, and she turns in his direction. It's a calm, composed expression with which the bronzerider is viewed; that she recognizes E'sere is obvious, but what Vanya thinks --? Not so easily discernible. At the moment, she takes her lead from the rider. So when Tavaly presents her, she allows neutrality to break. "Indeed, sir," she responds, nodding to J'lor. "If your people have need of a Healer, I'm at your disposal. I brought herbs, medicine, bandages, some medical instruments and texts on the treatment of cold-related illness and injury." Her voice is quiet, her words spoken almost gently.
Well. Now the bluerider notices E'sere. He looks sharply over his shoulder as the bronzerider speaks and this also give him ample time to notice, amid the circle of onlookers, a man with a mustache and pale pales. His gaze holds there for a beat before turning away and settling on the now-named Tavaly and Vanya. "Well met," J'lor offers quietly. "Thank you...Tavaly, is it? And Vanya. We have a healer with us and there are some among us who know first aid, but medicine is never unappreciated. We...no. Just now, we are all well, save for minor aches and pains." But for some reason this news, which ought to be good, is delivered with a tinge of sadness in his voice. "If you would be willing to speak with our healer when we bring her the supplies you've generously offered, she could say, better than I, what instruction, if any, is needed." He offers the pair of them a small smile, head ducking downward. "Just 'J'lor', if you please. No need for 'sir'." His last words are more directly for Tavaly. "May we assist you in unloading your Immath of her burdens?"
"Help J'lor," comes Derek's order in the background. His voice is distant, sweet and sandy-soft, ill-matched to his looks. As the brown-haired fellow steps forward, hands out, to offer his help - little can he do without being told, now, as he's unwilling to approach Immath too directly without permission. Derek, for his part, trods up toward J'lor's side, arms crossed; the glance that flicks across the bluerider is meant not for -him- but for E'sere. A hint of a smile disappears his mouth and curls the corner of the mustache.
The exchange between Vanya and J'lor is witnessed quietly, Tav's gaze sweeping between bluerider and healer. At J'lor's offer, Tavaly nods her head once. "It would be most appreciated, yes. Let us know, also, where we can be putting these." Something said otherwise catches the Greenrider's attention, and Tav grins widely at E'sere. "There's plenty of time for that, later. 'Sides. Vanya agreed to help me unload once we got here, and I'm not about to let her get out of that so easily." She nudges the woman's arm next to her and then steps toward Immath, who is tilting her head every which way as more and more new faces appear. To one, in particular, she honks. At E'sere.
Vanya smiles at the nudge, nodding. "I did, yes, and I'm a woman of my word," Vanya replies to Tavaly. She stuffs the gloves in a pocket of her coat, likewise the goggles, as she turns back toward Immath. She actually says very little else, save for a glance in E'sere's direction, studying him for a long moment. "I'll be happy to speak with your healers," she says, obviously to J'lor. "I'm here to help." Simple words, meaning exactly that. She's there to offer assistance, not walk in and take over. "Where should I start, Tavaly?" she then asks the greenrider. "I have no idea where everything ended up." Hands on her hips, she surveys the laden green dragon with a shake of her head.
At Derek's quiet words, a couple other figures, a few of the men lingering near Vellath, step forward along with the one situated close to Derek. J'lor offers those brave souls a nod and a flick with one hand to invite them closer. They nod in return and move towards Immath, hands reaching up to begin to work bundles free of nets. At E'sere's 'sir', the bluerider clenches his jaw just a wee bit, draws in a slow breath. "Just our healer. If you could bring her, I'd appreciate it. All things considered, I don't believe K'tric need be involved just at the moment. Thank you." His eyes dart towards the hold. Where E'sere in meant to be going now. Then, pushing his hands into his pockets, J'lor looks back to the two new arrivals. "We'll get everything situated. Immath told Vellath you brought supplies and...'talk'?" One dark brow hitches upwards in silent question.
"Hello, Immath," E'sere offers that honking green with a broader smile, fondly familiar. "You look well as ever--but excuse me," he bows out with another wry smile at J'lor's request, as he turns to do as bid, disappearing inside for a very brief time. Word is apparently already traveling, because the healer is close enough at hand--or he's just hurrying that quickly, to avoid missing any of the actual talking--that it doesn't talk more than a handful of minutes for him to return with her, leading her back over to the laden green.
"Your guess is as good as mine at this point." Tav says, face wreathed with smiles as she beckons the group closer. Immath, to her credit, remains quiet and still. If anyone is skittish around dragons, she'll not be the one to make that skittishness worse. Today. Sphinx-like, she lowers, the bags and nets and sacks all billowing out to either side of her, wings folding precariously above the lot. "I think if we start at the top, she'll be able just to step out of the heavier things on the bottom. So, top, it is!" Tav's right hand grips the straps and she haul's herself up, offering a hand to Vanya. "We'll untie the knots up here and hand stuff down, if that's all right?" She looks to J'lor. At his question of Talk, the greenrider smiles. "Yes. We've also brought charts for you and your riders. Once we get Immath unloaded and catch our breaths, I'll be happy to go over the charts we've brought, if you like?" Already her fingers are undoing knots, the left hand having a rougher go of it, but managing.
Vanya has a smile for those men who are helping to unload the dragon, friendly but not patronizing. She offers verbal instruction as to which bags contain fragile items, and takes a few down herself, carefully setting them aside. She doesn't seem overly hampered by the coat, or the drizzling rain, merely putting the hood back up if the drops should grow in size. In fact, she's so occupied by helping unload Immath that she doesn't see E'sere disappear into the hold, or his return. The Healer seems to be going over a mental inventory list, which keeps her fairly busy. When Tavaly offers the hand up, she gladly takes it, mounting the dragon with smooth, practiced ease -- so different from when she first arrived at the weyr. Now perched atop the dragon, she starts loosening straps and ropes. "Look out below," she sings out, grinning.
The bluerider looks, finally, to the other man beside him. The one with the mustache. "Tavaly," he offers with a small nod towards the greenrider. "And the healer Vanya." And then, to the two preoccupied women, "This is Derek." And with that serving as an introduction, J'lor takes his place among the growing cluster of those awaiting bundles that can be carried off into the hold. The exiled healer, on her arrival with E'sere, watches those bundles with a terse expression and sharp eyes.
Derek's man tends to helping unload Immath just as the other men J'lor directed do. Derek himself does other things; he watches E'sere go and return, and watches the tall bluerider in interim. Only when J'lor introduces him does he lend his voice to the situation. "Thank you, J'lor," he says first, kindly. "Tavaly. Journeyman." If there is some kind of - intonation - on the healer's ranking title, it is subtle, no match for the sandy sweetness with which he speaks. "I will inform our Lord that we have guests of a diplomatic nature, hailing from High Reaches Weyr." A glance at E'sere. "Correct?"
But Derek does not wait for that confirmation; he treads off toward the Hold, boots crunching in the increasingly damp dust.
"Yes, sir," agrees E'sere, with a nod for Derek as the man departs. He's silent then, having done his part in bringing the healer, apparently: he does not approach Immath any closer, keeping a more reserved vigil further back while the other willing hands assist in the unloading of the gifted supplies.
Vanya's enthusiasm has bolstered the Greenrider's spirits even further, and knots come undone left and right. She is not, however, so engrossed that she does not catch another introduction that comes. When the name leaves the bluerider's lips, Tav turns to study the man a moment, blinking. A amiable smile rises to her lips and she bows her head to the man. "Well met. And yes, thank you. I would like to request an audience with the Lord Odern, when and if he has the time." She says, and then the man is moving away, Tav's blue eyes following his disappearance. At a cue from the green, however, She returns to undoing knots, handing down supplies.
Once the majority of the nets and bags and packages are loosened from their ropes, the rest of the unloading is fairly easily accomplished. Vanya waits until the last bundle of dried herbs is lowered, then turns to Tavaly. Her gaze then falls to Derek, who's remained slightly away. "Yes, well met," she echoes, "and thank you, as well." Then, when Derek moves away, she turns to Tavaly. "If you don't need me any longer, I'd like to talk to the Healer." Her voice is soft, but not meant as a whisper. "Or, I can go with you for the meeting with Lord Odern. Either is fine with me."
The bluerider's gaze flicks over Derek as he departs and then mostly to the bags as they come down. But, occasionally, he glances up to see Tavaly's rather intrigued study of the departing ex-captain. With the last of the things beginning to filter away, J'lor dusts his hands together. The bluerider offers to Tavaly, "would you mind an escort? I can wait outside and then we could go over those charts...threadfall charts, do you mean? helpful." "If you like," begins the watchful and wary healer to the Journeyman, "I can show you what we've got serving as an infirmary. Wouldn't mind a list of what you've brought, either."
With the women atop her back, Immath rises slowly and steps out from between the two biggest parcels and settles further back, away from the wary men who now tend to the supplies. Sliding down, Tav offers Vanya a hand and leads her down. Hearing J'lor and the healer, Tav looks first to Vanya with an expression akin to, 'Are you okay with this?' then to J'lor. "That should not be a problem. I would not mind an escort, at all. And yes. Threadfall charts of this area and surrounding, for aide with patterns." She offers a further explanation. Spying Vanya's affirmative, the greenrider gives a solid nod, casting a glance to Immath before turning to J'lor, a satchel at her side, now, and allowing herself to be.. well, escorted.
Vanya dismounts from Immath, sliding down to her foreleg and then to the ground with Tavaly's help. A glance back to Tavaly and she's grinning, nodding to the rider, then immediately turning her attention to the Healer. "That would be good," she replies, again nodding. "And, here's the complete list," she affirms, digging into her pocket for a hide. "I brought several bottles of elixir I've found helps with coughs and congestion, since that's likely that's likely what your people will suffer most coming from a warm climate to a much colder one." There's no looking down her nose at the woman, no flouting of rank. In fact, Vanya's not even wearing a knot. It's just one healer to another. The list is handed over, and Vanya heads over to a pile of bundles. From the look of things, Vanya will be occupied with this for quite a while, and in typical healer fashion, everyone else seems to have been tuned out.