The Clutching Celebration
A gentleman will not insult me, and no man not a gentleman can insult me. ~Frederick Douglass
OOC Date: February 17, 2010
IC Date: Day 23, month 13, turn 21 of Interval 10.
Who: Inviere, K'del, Saliqa, Teris, Tiriana, W'chek, Warucori, Silarra, Z'yi, Rorkes, Gustav, Taikrin
Where: HRW Bowl
At the clutching party, Gabe goes toe to toe with Inviere and - perhaps surprisingly - comes out on top. It doesn't hurt that Z'yi is huge. While people get searched and near-pandemonium ensues, Gabe and Silarra speculate about the drinking habits of dragons.
Inviere approaches alone, surprise surprise, her arms buried nearly elbow-deep in what must be some pretty respectable coat pockets. In spite of that, she's without headwear or scarffage or any other significant cold weather accoutrement -- so it's hard to account for her half-hunched shoulders, her ducked head. She does seem to have a bead on the serving table, where she heads forthwith, unaccosted. Maybe.
That short list of "friends of W'chek"? K'del isn't on it. As he is, however, on the even shorter list of "W'chek's Wingleader and Weyrleader", the more junior bronzerider is not in a position to just make some kind of nasty comment and continue in avoidance. "Twenty. Yeah. Great." Okay, so he sounds about as excited as a guy whose boss just started talking about plans for a luxury vacation. "Haven't seen 'em, no." A crane of neck as he attempts to figure out what the hold-up is in the line.
Distinctly determined eyes widen into happiness to match her smile as Saliqa surfaces from her curtsy to the sight of those gold accessories. "Oh, look!" She nearly echoes the woman, flitting out an eager hand towards them, but pulling back before she can intrude on the Weyrwoman's space. "I'm so very pleased they could be worn on such a celebratory occasion. I don't know the business, but I hear this is a fine clutch, as they say, worth celebrating-- worth rewarding!" She makes polite pauses and glances to the side when others want to take their turns to say something, but she appears otherwise attached to this spot by Tiriana.
Teris is wearing something fairly nice but still rather simple as suits her tastes even if it's somewhat hidden beneath a coat that isn't anything particularly special. But her hair is down and she's /here/ which is something, right? The assistant, notably, isn't approaching the Weyrwoman since she spends a fair amount of time with her anyway. She ends up in a line somewhere behind K'del and W'chek to wait for a drink. By herself.
K'del is not going to let even W'chek spoil his mood (at least, that seems to be the plan for now), so despite the less-than-enthusiastic response, he continues to beam at the other bronzerider. At least the line moves forward a couple of steps at that point, which postpones K'del's answer for a few seconds-- but not indefinitely. "Don't be like that. Special day! Celebration. Free booze. Clutches are important in weyrs... don't reckon you regret our last one, hm?"
Gabrion is still dressed in his work clothes, with a thin jacket and a knitted hat to keep him warm. He's heard the news, clearly, because his face is bright with excitement as he joins the mob of people in the bowl. He scouts the line at the serving table, frowns, and with a discreet sideways shuffle, he casually cuts in line in front of Teris. But no, he's just standing there innocently, do de do...
Inviere parks herself behind a diminutive blonde who's bouncing on the balls of her feet -- whether from cold or excitement is hard to infer, though it's probably some combination of both -- but their eyes meet and some sort of phatic half-pleasantries are exchanged. Apparently they work together now, in a paper-filled hole somewhere in the inner caverns, and if Inviere isn't just GUSHING enthusiasm, it doesn't seem to take much to get the blonde to start yammering. "It's SO exCIting, ISN'T it?" The punctuation is hers. "I even WATCHED some of the eggs coming OUT." Her eyes go wide. "They were... slimier. Than I thought. But so. PRETTY."
"Important," W'chek echoes. Like the line movement. That's important. Even if it doesn't actually prevent him from still being in line right behind K'del. More looking around, this time with a bit less urgency. He's not looking for someone else to talk to. Sure. "Special day. Free booze." That last actually gets a little bit of a smile. "No. Not... as such. But better not to have Anvori here pressing drinks into my hand tonight, thanks, if it's all the same."
"It seemed fitting," says Tiriana, and while she tries to sound mature and respectable, there's a certain amount of childish glee even in that one statement. "Twenty! Did you see them? Twenty. It's a good clutch--better than that last one. Those eggs were so ugly, you know? But these!" Nevermind there are just as many ugly eggs in this one as the last; that doesn't seem to register much right now.
Teris is paying attention. Thus, she glares at the back of Gabrion's head when he cuts into the line in front of her. Then she smacks him upside it with the back of her hand. It's not overly hard, more meant to get attention than hurt. "/Excuse/ me. But there's a line here, if you hadn't noticed. Move." The last is said firmly and the blonde points off behind her somewhere.
That comment of W'chek's makes K'del laugh merrily; "Suppose not. Guess you can manage your own drink intake this time." Again the line moves forward, and this time, leaves K'del as the very next in line. "Anyway, guess this means you can see whether Zhikath's got a talent for searching people at all; that's always fun." Beat. "Cadejoth doesn't seem to. At least... didn't grab even one, last time. Too busy mooning over Iovniath and the eggs."
"I'll have to take your word for it," Inviere is saying absently to her exuberant coworker. She's looking into the immediate distance now, on the balls of her feet to see over a few tall rider-types in front of her. "HEY," she calls down to Gabrion. "MIDGET."
Perhaps the glee is infectious; whatever the case, Saliqa lets out a breathy, encouraging laugh at the Weyrwoman's enthusiasm. "Twenty," she once again repeats, bringing that hand to bear in the direction of the galleries, "I passed by once, I did, but there was only seven then. First time in the galleries, too. I can't even imagine what that place is like full... all those people, they'll be coming to see these lovely eggs. See the Weyr!" And she turns sideways to glance about the bowl. Her gaze lands very pointedly, with a sort of 'hmmph' sniff at the part still under construction.
"OWWW!" Gabe yelps, ducking much too late to avoid Teris's smack. "Hey! You /hit/ me," he whines. "Don't hit! ...AND I'M NOT A MIDGET!" he hollers at Inviere.
The reaction that W'chek has to K'del's notion is not, as one might expect, in any way pleased--"Sharding *hope* not. Between all those errands and sweeps outside the Weyr and going home every couple weeks--specially that. Far as I'm concerned, best left to other people." He pauses. "More sociable people." There's hollering going on back there, drawing his attention--"What are you guys, five?"
Inviere is relentless. "/What/?" she calls to Gabrion, effectively deafening the poor girl in front of her. She holds one hand up to her ear, eyes squinting as if confused or in strain. "I'm sorry... humans can't hear in that range!" A few people shoot her dirty looks. A few others ignore her. And fewer still -- they kind of smirk. Just a little. "Try again when your voice changes in 20 years!" If she hears W'chek -- a fleeting, sideways dart of her attention suggests she probably does -- she ignores him.
Warucori steps out and onto the bowl, pulling a heavy knitted scarf around her neck and shoulders with an awkward twist and loop motion. At seeing so many people out she pauses but then decides on a forward course rather than the quick glance back in the direction she came. The girl flashes a nervous smile, bobs her head hello and tries her best to mill around the main group to see what's going on.
K'del, it's fair to say, looks pretty surprised, but then, perhaps he's so pleased and excited at the moment that he's not really thinking about who he's talking to. "Oh," he says, after a moment. "Guess we'll see." That's the point at which it's his turn to head to the drinks table, and so he leaves it at that, conveniently missing what's going on behind him in the line. He collects two drinks, both whiskey, and heads off in the other direction.
"You /cut/ in front of me," Teris returns, completely unapologetic. It's a fair exchange, apparently. Except that she's still not happy with the new arrangement. But rather than try to get him to move to the back of the line, Teris just moves to step around in front of him. She doesn't care if he cuts anyone behind her, apparently.
Gabrion isn't bothered by being cut in front of - that's fair enough. But he scolds Teris, "You still shouldn't hit people." He then casts a contemptuous look over his shoulder at Inviere, rolls his eyes, and calls out, "You should keep your voice down, Inviere! Just because your mom's the type of person who sleeps with goats, doesn't mean you should tell the whole weyr!" Gabe: winning friends and influencing people since Turn 6.
Inviere turns a color not seen in nature, and possibly not seen in dreams, either. Apparently she sucks the pigment directly out of Chatty Cathy's soul: the other girl goes ashen as Inviere storms out of the line, her long legs taking her to Gabrion inside 15 seconds. That's still plenty of time for him to scamper off, right?
"It takes forever to get them all out," Tiriana agrees, grimacing faintly at that. "Faranth only knows how they stood the waiting back when the clutches were thirty, forty. And the gold nearly last, too!" But that brings back that grin again, as she pulls her coat tighter around her now that she's cooled off from the sands. "Are you going to stay to the hatching? You should just see it then, with everybody around, and all the hatchlings. Now /that's/ something. The eggs are kind of boring in comparison. --You want something to drink?"
K'del weaves his way through the crowd, pressing past any number of people - well-wishers and otherwise - on his way towards a specific target: Tiriana. She and Saliqa get a brilliant smile and a nod as he approaches, though one of his hands, holding that spare whiskey glass, gets extended towards the Weyrwoman; "Brought you a drink," is his greeting, bright and cheery. "Figured you might not get that way quickly, all these people." Beat. "They did well." Never mind that they were having a conversation before him: /he's/ here.
As Saliqa's gaze travels back from the edge of the bowl, she makes a few polite smiles here and there -- one of her friends who looks the way, the nervous looking Warucori. It's an exercise before she aims the expression at her company, "It really is. Something, I mean. As I'm sure the hatching is, but, well, my duties are to... my home. If I'm needed there..." An ominous darkness taints her smile before she shoos it off, more hurriedly making sure to gesture back where she was looking. "Do you think they'll have the bowl fi--" Enter Weyrleader. Dark look, the sequel. Then, a stiffer curtsy. "Look, ma'am, your drinks just appear here. How kind."
Now that Gabrion is behind her, Teris is going to do her best to ignore the boy and the woman that he's flirting or whatever with. Even when she approaches. She'll get to the drink table eventually. Really. "For Faranth's sake, hurry up," she says, though it's not really to anyone in particular. Never mind the look she gives the man in front of her that turns around to eye her.
Dark looks? And Z'yi isn't a part of them? Damn, he must be losing his knack at inciting emotion. The big bluerider is meandering through the crowds in a zip-zag, careful with his healing shoulder; though, when he does get bumped on that side, it doesn't appear to affect him too terribly. "Good job," he comments to Tiriana and K'del as he passes by the little knot, a wink and a sketched salute for the pair, and a smile besides for Saliqa-- but someone else attracts his attention, and soon enough, he's clapping Gabe on the shoulder like an old friend. "I told you the twitch would go away," triumphant and smug all rolled into one.
Warucori doesn't hide her bewilderment very well. Instead she forgets to close her mouth as she peers this way and that. Gawking with the wild-eyed half horror, half stupid delight in all the fuss and activity, she almost trips over a child with a stammered apology before managing to get into line--but schooling her features? Not so much.
Or 15 seconds to be clapped on the shoulder by the hugest guy in the weyr! Gabe beams up at Z'yi. "That's great! I'm glad to hear it. Sometimes it's important to get this stuff checked out, because it might be nothing, but if it's not, then it could be really really bad. I figured you'd be alright though." And then he turns to the unnaturally-colored Inviere and gives her an extra sweet smile. "Did you need something, pookie? ...have you met Z'yi?" he indicates the bluerider. "This is Inviere," he says to Z'yi. "She thinks she's going to start something, I think."
Even K'del can't darken Tiriana's mood today. "There's a gold," she tells him, dreamily. Like he didn't know that already. She reaches for the drink automatically, with a breezy, "You can stay until the hatching. It won't be too long, and it's something to see, at any rate. Crom can't grudge you that. --What is this?" The latter to K'del, as she suddenly thinks to give her drink a little suspicious look.
Silarra strides out into the crowd. Somehow the fairly short girl manages to spot the equally short cousin in all of this because she's angling his way, even if it means cutting in line. "Gabe!" She greets. Z'yi get a grin as well before she eyes Inviere, the grin fading.
It could be Paul friggin' Bunyan, for all Inviere seems to care, though the board-stiff, bared-palm hand she's got braced to rearrange Gabrion's charmingly boyish features with comes to a halt not long after it begins its arc. "I /realize/," she begins, "that everyone here is a special snowflake. But you'd do well to learn some /manners/." She glares up at Z'yi -- not so much because it's his FAULT as it is that he's in the way. "And yes. We've met."
Dark eyes betray Z'yi's eternal amusement, shifting from Gabe to Inviere as the healer pronounces his companion. "Isforaith's regards," he comments to Inviere, irony heavy in his undertones. His lips turn into a much more open grin, and he abandons Gabe to Inviere's tender mercies to beam that rather boyish expression to Teris and Silarra alike. "Why, my two favorite girls in the whole damn weyr." Who let Z'yi in the booze? Or maybe he was smokin' out in the back with Rodric.. "Silarra, you look to be doing well. Teris, my dear, whyever do you scowl so?" His grin tickles with laughter, lopsided and so atypical.
It's early in the night, and the harpers playing currently are mostly apprentices and other low-level folks: the warm-up act before the main performers. So it is that Rorkes has some free time before his turn on the stage to mill around with the crowd, offering greetings and pausing to chat with a few acquaintances as he makes the rounds, drink in hand.
In the wake of Saliqa's curtsey, K'del gives a little bob of the head, sort of like a bow only involving less body. To Tiriana, gleefully: "I heard!" Cadejoth, after all, must have told most of Pern already, in his glee. And, to answer her question, "Whiskey. You should stay, Saliqa; it'll be something to see. Tell your grandkids, and all. Hatchings are /fun/." He takes a drink out of his own glass, apparently, to emphasise that the whiskey is for drinking.
Gabrion flashes a grin at Z'yi, and then turns to greet Silarra. "Hey, cousin! Look, isn't that cute? She's lecturing people about manners," he says brightly, talking about Inviere as if she weren't even there. "How's it going?"
It's a little harder for Teris to ignore the things that are going on behind her when Z'yi joins the picture. But the glance back is quick, slightly narrow-eyed, then she's turning forward again like the bluerider is no one of particular note. "They're boys," she says, presumably to Inviere even though she's not facing any of them, "Manners might be expecting too much of them." She rolls her eyes at Z'yi but the back of her head might not really convey that very well. Oh, look, it's her turn. She moves to get herself a glass of wine and then she's off to mingle. Or something.
A party? Who would Gustav be if he weren't there in the middle of everything? Food and wine appears to be of little concern to him as he mingles through the crowd, hopping from one group to another. He's met with mixed reception, some people seem to think he's funny while others are not nearly as amused. He notably skips past any male-only gatherings. After departing from a particularly receptive mix of giggling girls he turns and wanders right on, possibly into Teris' path if she doesn't diverge from it.
Inviere's glower flickers ever-so-slightly to make room for a wry smile at Z'yi -- well, okay, maybe not a smile, but a look of recognition at some private joke. But it fades as soon as his attention is gone. She jabs a long, sharp finger at Gabrion's chest. "You have to sleep eventually, you nasty little runt," she hisses. "And I've moved shitpiles that weigh more than you." She turns to look over her shoulder at Teris, apparently surprised at the semblance of sympathy. "Hit him harder next time."
"Congratulations are in order," Saliqa laces her gesture with, then letting the two leaders share their moment, while she watches Z'yi pass by with a sort of automatic smile for his. "Well, it's very nice of you both to say... I'm flattered, really. I will, perhaps, see what the word is like at home in Crom," safer to say, now that Tiriana has used the name. "It's also good to see everyone around so cheerful for this momentous occasion... I think there's only one thing missing, really..." A finger raises to tap lightly against her chin as she has no go-to drink to fill the space.
Warucori perks even more, rocking onto her toes at the sound of music. Perhaps it's been there this whole time, but she's been distracted with staring at Gabrion and Inviere. Now that particular spell is broken and she turns to watch the harpers as the line to the drinks and food slowly inches forward. Of course, people keep cutting in, so her chances of quick refreshment look poor. Long fingers pluck at her work smock and her expression falls, it's hardly the proper outfit for dancing.
Silarra doesn't pick up on Gabe's joking solution apparently. Instead she glares over to Inviere. "And you touch one hair on his head? I will beat you into the ground with your shoe." She threatens before she glances to Z'yi. "Favorite? You must have limited acquintances." There's a dryly humorous tone there, as opposed to the threat.
"What's that? You were born and raised in a stable, and used a shitpile for a pillow your entire youth? That explains a lot," Gabe says to Inviere with another sweet smile. Silarra's dry comment to Z'yi makes him laugh, and he says, "Oh don't be silly, you're one of my favorites, too. Though in some cases the competition isn't trying very hard." Now who on /Pern/ could he be talking about?
"Oh. Oh, good, then," says Tiriana, and she guzzles a long drink of her whiskey, not very ladylike despite her dress. "Hatchings /are/ fun. And then you have weyrlings. And they mostly suck, and don't live up to their lineage, but kids. What can you do with them?" She's eyeing Z'yi as she says this, since he's big and loud and noticeable and such. Her sniff is only mildly put-out, though, and even that only for a minute.
And just in case you didn't think it was crowded enough... a certain dark-denim dragon has begun to nose through the crowd, heedless of stepping on people. Get out the way, yo. He lowers his big blue mug to sniff against a certain young man's hair, then snorts, carries on. Z'yi, on the /other/ side of the crowd, looks up with an expression of transfixed morbid interest. Like watching a train wreck, but with more mortification. Hey, back to Silarra. "Oh, come on. You're far preferable to... some people..." Excuse him for choking, since Isforaith has dropped his head down to inspect the weyrleaders and their companion, sniffing especially fondly at Tiriana. Hey, mom's rider. Hit anyone recently?
"What's that?" asks K'del, of Saliqa, brows raised, evidently not entirely sure what she's after. Then, after a moment, "Would've brought another drink, if I'd realised you were here." His brows narrow slightly, as though there's something on his mind, but he doesn't voice it, instead concluding, with a glance at Tiriana, "Dunno. I kinda like the weyrlings. The little dragons are cute."
Eventually, the harper falls into the refreshment line himself after stopping to chat with a few more people along the way. He ends up on the tail end of the line, alongside Warucori, and while he doesn't go so far as to cut in line earlier, he does frown slightly and lean around the younger girl to see just how far it is that they have to go. "I do hope we make it through this, before I'm due to go on," he remarks, with a wry grin for her.
"You know there are people trying to walk around here," Teris says to Gustav when she pulls up short to avoid getting /too/ close to him. Her attention wanders briefly when she spies a certain harper but she only watches him for a moment, then her blue eyes pull back to the nanny with a brow hitched up.
"What's that?" asks K'del, of Saliqa, brows raised, evidently not entirely sure what she's after. Then, after a moment, "Would've brought another drink, if I'd realised you were here." His brows narrow slightly, as though there's something on his mind, but he doesn't voice it, instead concluding, with a glance at Tiriana, "Dunno. I kinda like the weyrlings. The little dragons are cute." The big dragons? Like the one suddenly in the vicinity? Evidently less cute, because his attention gets turned rather rapidly, and he stares, blankly, at Isforaith.
Inviere, apparently giving up on Gabrion, looks down her nose -- she tilts her head back to improve the effect -- at Silarra. "With what, your face? Stop defending your boyfriend. It's cute, but--" here her voice modulates into thin honey, watery and sad-- "turns out he's not that into you." She says it loudly enough for Gabrion to HEAR her, of course, and then she pointedly washes her hands of it, removing herself from the food line in favor of the booze.
"Oh, oh, it's you. The rather angry girl." Did he ever get her name? Gustav carries on anyway, that's not important. Right? "I do see that people are trying to walk. But I could argue that you're in my way. But I'll let it slide." Wink. "When are you going to dance with me? Now, later? If you say later I'm just going to follow you around like a cute little pupp- Is that a dragon?" When he cuts off and replaces his original sentence with that question, he's genuinely surprised. Pointing to Isforaith, "I don't think we have any wine glasses big enough for him."
Silarra clenches her hands into tight fists at her sides. "My /cousin/ is so much better than you'll ever be." She calls after Inviere before she shakes her head. "I just want to smack that look off of her face so badly." She states before she looks over to Gabe and Z'yi. "True. There are some idiotic girls in this weyr."
Saliqa's finger keeps up its insistent tapping through her eyes narrowing in a grasp for her next words. "Oh, no, sir, I didn't mean anything by it. I only thought that, with the boon of the eggs and all, now would be a good.... time... to..." Apparently /fate/ does not want her to get to the topic she wants, because a second intrusion has made itself known -- and this one far larger than the Weyrleader even. "/My/..." Her jaw inches lower in a most unmannerly fashion before she gets that tapping finger to snap it nicely shut.
Warucori peels her eyes away from the musicians and gives the harper who's stepped into line by her a dazzling smile. "oh my word you've got that right. I think there's some sort of hang up ahead...or a tangle or...something." She rushes on excitedly, "I think that little boy is going to get hurt. Someone should help him, but really he sounds like he has the worst manners. My father would wash my mouth out and send me to my bed without anything to eat." SHe blushes suddenly, "oh...but I don't know...maybe they are just kidding between themselves. Do you think?"
A drink acquired--just the one, and okay, yes, it's alcoholic, but it's still just one--W'chek filters back over to a few of his wingmates to start in on a rousing conversation about something nobody else could possibly have any interest in that has very little to do with eggs. And there he'll remain for the time being.
Gabrion is /highly/ amused. "And," he says to Silarra, relishing the whole thing, "some who think it's an /insult/ to say that you don't want to sleep with your own cousin. Who knew?"
"The little dragons are--you, go away," and if that weren't enough, Tiriana turns to shove against Isforaith's muzzle, as though that's going to move the big blue. "Not for dragons. You're going to step on my dress or something." She glowers at the blue, and finishes off her whiskey in short order. The empty glass is shoved back at K'del where it came from, so she can cross her arms. "To what?" she asks Saliqa, peering at her.
"I'm not dancing with you. Or anyone," Teris assures Gustav pointedly, though she does look over toward the large blue. "They are fairly common around here. You know, Weyr and all." She could probably be more sarcastic but the general gist of it is fairly well made obvious. "If he's anything like his rider--" but the blonde's voice cuts off as she takes a drink of her wine and just doesn't continue.
The drink line being a bit shorter than the food line, Inviere manages to get up to the good stuff without any altercations this time. She seizes a goblet, or a glass, or whatever it is they've got for drinky drinks, and fills one up with something stiff. The way she HOLDS the thing between her fingers is weirdly ladylike by contrast, but there's nothing girlish about the glower she sends over the rim at, you know. Pretty much everyone.
Z'yi is still transfixed, for the moment. "He's going to get me killed," stated to Silarra. "Killed." He shouldn't sound so faintly surprised at all of this. "He's an idiot." Statement of the year! "A bloody, fardling idiot." Excuse his french. Isforaith, meanwhile, doesn't seem to think that he is-- he whuffs warm air all over Saliqa, and snorts, leaning his head against Tiri's hand with absolutely no regard for the fact that she's the freaking weyrwoman. He, at least, does not sneeze at her, as he lifts his head up and starts moving /past/ them, further into the crowd. Towards Z'yi. He's almost made it, before he gets distracted-- hey, look, you smell nice too! The big blue leans to sniff thoughtfully at Rorkes, then lifts his head to sneeze -- a luckily dry sneeze.
"To what?" says K'del, echoing Tiriana's remark, as he takes back the Weyrwoman's glass, with only the faintest twitch of amusement and/or resignation. His is not quite empty yet; he finishes it off in fairly short order a moment later. His eyes settle on Saliqa, narrowed slightly in concentration and interest; they flick back towards Isforaith for only a moment, frowning, but the blue is taking his leave, and that seems good enough for the Weyrleader.
"Oh. Ah." Rorkes begins auspiciously, frowning as he leans over to look at the groups ahead again. The shrill voices of the argumentative youths makes him shake his head slightly. "Somehow, I'm doubting it, though I can't say I know most of them very well. But the one girl... Well." Possibly that story is better saved for older company. "Anyway, it looks like--oh, Faranth." So much for age-appropriate, as Rorkes gets sneezed at. He weathers it well, weyrbred and all, but grimaces all the same. "There's always that one," he drawls to Warucori.
"Why not? I smell nice. I took a bath today and I even put some cologne on." He holds his arm out for Teris to smell his skin. In his defense, he actually doesn't smell bad. You know, if she decides to actually stick her nose on him. "Yes, I've noticed that. But do the blue ones normally go up to the weyrleaders and say hello? And then mingle through the crowd? That one seems to have a cold." He gestures vaguely in the direction of the dragon, though his eyes are now turned away. "Does his rider have an illness too?"
Warucori was there, just minding her own business. And eaves-dropping on random conversations. Oh, and trying to keep her eyes in her head and her jaw from dragging on the ground. Then, there's the dragon--coming their way. Rorkes way...which would be her way, since she's beside him. She suddenly grips his arm, stammering loudly just before he is sneazed on--and then she screams. Just one scream really. A single burst of shrill fear and then she's using Rorke as a sheild, since /he/ seems to be the one better at weathering such things.
Silarra relaxes a bit, hands unclenching as she flashes Gabe a smile. "True. I think I'd be rather more offended if my cousin /did/ want to sleep with me. No offense, but, ew." She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. Then she turns to eye the dragon moving through the crowd. "Not killed. Embarrassed or yelled at maybe, but hopefully no one will die this party." Silarra adds with a familiar sarcastic tone.
Saliqa's hands dart from her face to her skirts immediately at the weird dragon breathing thing and she holds this pose quite warily until the big thing appears to have moved on. If that truly works in the crowd. Angling a look over her shoulder, she's brought around by K'del's echo of the question. "Ahh..." Forehead wrinkles in attempted focus and she makes an empty gesture at first. "Right! To make a gesture, as it were. You can plainly see how one good event can raise the hopes of a whole crowd, well there's some of us needing that, perhaps, what with all the unfortunate cave-ins lately..." A careful nod indicates the convicts' general work area.
Inviere just barely avoids sloshing drink on herself, with that scream, and after a stuttered round of girlish "ughs" and "aughs," sets to scanning the crowd for the offender. "Have you people LOST. Your MINDS?" she asks, generally and to a couple of guys standing apace. One of them shrugs; the other one grins nervously. Step /away/ from the crazy lady.
The clinging to his arm earns Warucori a more startled look than the dragon does. Rorkes grimaces, too, at the shrieking, and ducks his head to rub one ear with his free arm. But he doesn't try to move away, at least, and leave Warucori to the dragon's mercy. "Are you okay?" he wonders as Isforaith finally moves on. "Not sure what's gotten into that one, but they're harmless, really. Promise. I'm Rorkes, by the way." Because introductions make hiding so much more personable.
"The dumbass isn't sick," Z'yi states to the nameless one who states that Isforaith may be ill. "And he's too old, Raith." Lips twitch in bemusement, the bluerider moves to stand more turned towards him, next to Silarra. Peanut gallery! "If anyone could die at a party-- it would be me. Tiriana would be the one doing the killing, too." Isforaith stubbornly stands over Rorkes, leaning down to examine first him, then his companion. Why do you scream, girl? It was just a sneeze. Then a blonde flash of hair catches his eye-- Oh hey, check it out, it's Jeibeth's rider's sister! His expression visibly brightens, and he shuffles closer to Teris, as if to see what all the fuss is about. "Not her," Z'yi calls out, makes a shushing movement with a hand, his smile fading rather quickly. But wait! There's another one! Raith now drops his head to assess Gustav, too, even if he isn't quite as pretty as Teris.
Isforaith's progress through the crowd loses Tiriana's attention almost as quickly as he's gone past her, K'del, and Saliqa. As long as he doesn't squish anybody close enough to splatter on her dress, she's cool with it, apparently. Carrying on, she eyes Saliqa. "Wait, what?" she wants to know, as she tries to focus in on what the holder girl's saying. "What... are you going on about, now?"
Silarra looks Z'yi over and shakes her head. "Nah. You're to big to die from Tiriana punching you. A bruise maybe. Death? Not so much." She decides watching the blue for a second longer. "What on Pern is he doing? Does he like the way people smell? They been into Gabe's froofroo soaps or something?"
Warucori didn't /mean/ to shriek and she does cover her mouth, her eyes squeezing closed, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry." SHe hunches behind Rorkes a little longer, freeing her fingers from him but not moving from behind him. "What was that? I mean, obviously a dragon right? But...b-but what was he doing? That sounded /terrible/." She rattles a little, hands shaking as she tries for composure. "Oh, I feel so foolish...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scream. Just my brother told me to be careful around dragons and that I shouldn't look them right in the eye and...and I thought he was teasing me but....ohmygosh." She giggles nervously, "I...I'm Cori....Warucori. Oh...I'm glad I didn't have a drink in my hands." Small mercies.
Teris turns her head to shoot Gustav an irritated look. "I'm not going to smell you," she says for the proffered arm, then adds, "And I don't /want/ to dance. It's not personal. Maybe a little personal. You're strange. What was your name again?" Her gaze had wandered back to Rorkes but she's rudely interrupted when the blue gets a little closer. She turns her attention to look at him, eyes narrowed, "Don't you think it's a little rude to go wandering through the crowd?" Then to Gustav like the dragon isn't actually listening, "He's a big oaf. Just like his rider."
K'del's expression loses its smile for the first time this evening as Saliqa speaks, and for once, he's quicker than the Weyrwoman in deciphering what's being said. "The /convicts/?" He stares, opens his mouth to say something else, then ends up staring again. "Not-- shells, look, maybe we can talk about it another time? But they're convicts. It's-- they could just come to this party, or something. Or Turnover." He looks surprisingly agitated, and keeps glancing over his shoulder, off towards the hatching grounds.
Gabrion watches it all from a (presumably) safe distance. "I guess he just wanted to join the party," he says to Silarra. "Can dragons drink, I wonder?"
"Oh, he's not? Does he have an allergy of some sort?" Gustav calls as he lifts onto his toes a bit, gaining a better view of Z'yi. Not that the other guy isn't a zillion feet tall, but there are other people around. "I won't." Take it personally. "Strange, yes. I'm also very, very handsome. I think the 'strange' is part of my attraction. Girls like it. Mostly. Sometimes. Men hate it and so do prisoners too." He lowers back onto the flats of his feet, "I'll tell you my name /again/ when you tell me yours for the first... Heh, please don't sneeze on me." Genuinely a little nervous, he rocks back a bit. "I don't have a napkin big enough to wipe that type of slime off me."
Giving up on her immediate audience of two, Inviere proves she can multitask: drinking and walking at once, she makes her way over to the first and nearest familiar face she sees. Turns out Rorkes is the lucky guy. "Harper," she starts, with the barest of glances for Warucori (shaken, not stirred). "Surely /you're/ a rock in this sucking tide of insanity." She drinks, like punctuation.
"Nah," Z'yi replies to Silarra, flicking his gaze from Isforaith and co over towards K'del, then back again. "Mother..." Whatever else he states is muttered under his breath. "Excuse me," with a suddenly very grim expression on his face as he maneuvers from Silarra to Isforaith and his victims. "Teris," he greets, his expression not lightening as it moves to Gustav. "Do you ever shut up, kid?" is his greeting to the other, unceremonious-- and then Raith's dropping his head to whuff more at Gustav and make an odd little crowing noise, in the back of his throat. "Well, which one is it, then?" exasperated, from Z'yi to Raith, Teris and Gustav both suddenly ignored.
She doesn't look any less weighed down, Saliqa, as the meaning seems to go over Tiriana's head. But even as she's taking a breath in preparation, she pauses to dart her attention over to K'del instead; as she does, she eases her way into a defeated slouch with her lower lip sucking upward in a hint of disappointment. "But what an admirable move it'd be. And reward encourages harder work! I think it would reflect well... but I suppose you both know best, the hatching is too large of an event to take a chance... I see you're right to suggest a smaller venue. Earlier. Soon, perhaps." She gives a few decisive, approving nods. Oh, clever, clever, K'del, good job, K'del.
"So am I," says Rorkes, bemused at the last. "But it's very nice to meet you all the same, Cori. That was... ah. Not sure of his name, but one of the blues from the last clutch here, at any rate. I'm not sure what he's up to, but..." He trails off slowly, and peers from the hiding girl to Isforaith and his target, Teris, again. Studying that scene for a moment, he has to shake his head to clear it and offer again, "They're harmless, they really are. --Miss." The latter to Inviere, as she approaches them. "Not sure about that, but I do try not to, er, suck too much."
Silarra glances over to Gabe. "And if they do, would they rather have ale or wine?" Silarra jokes, in a better mood now that Inviere has found another target. "And could you imagine the damage one could do if it got staggering drunk?" She states watching Z'yi stalk off into the crowd. His size makes him easy to follow at least.
Isforaith would like to note, at this junction, that he would be a beer drinker. Oh yeah.
"We don't want them at /our/ party," Tiriana says, aghast at this idea. She gives K'del a withering look for the very idea. "Faranth, they're criminals." Like he hadn't just said that himself. She's looking a little confused at this point, peering from K'del to Saliqa and back again. "What are you signing us up for?" she demands abruptly of her Weyrleader. The honeymoon is apparently over.
Warucori gives Inviere a cheerfully rattled smile, "I'm so sorry to have screamed. It was just so unexpected. Did you see how close the dragon was? I could see his teeth! It was amazing." It only dawns on her after she's spoken that the other woman isn't smiling back at her and her hand goes to her mouth, her own smile fading. She steps out from behind Rorkes now that it's clear and she smooths a hand over her work smock, giving the harper a thankful smile. "Nice to meet you too."
If Teris was trying to keep her name from Gustav, Z'yi pretty much just ruined it. She puffs out a sigh at the bluerider but then offers Gustav a tight smile. "Yes. Teris. No, he never shuts up," which must be an answer for the bluerider even though she's still looking at Gustav. At least until the last. That makes her look at the dragon and his rider again, no happier for his
K'del goes blink. And again. Blink, blink. Blink. "Uh," he says, as he stares at Saliqa. A shifty little glance gets directed at Tiriana, and then, in a fairly impressive attempt at a save (or is it?) he blurts out: "Actually, got something more important to talk to you about, Saliqa..." Though he looks a little worried, even at this. "Cadejoth wants you. For the eggs, I mean. Wants you to stay. Stand for them." Saved! Only... maybe not so much.
"Not if I can help it." He replies to Z'yi, glancing briefly in the larger man's direction. Oh, he's sniffing him. Chance to make a point. The lightbulb practically dings over his head. "See, the dragon obviously likes the smell of my cologne. I don't understand why you won't smell me, even if I am strange." Gustav shoots to Teris as he continues to eyeball Isforaith, still a touch nervous and remaining on rocked heels. And then, she's given a name. "Thanks, bald relatively intimadating guy. Teris is a /beautiful/ name. I'm still Gustav, it's ugly, I know. At odds with my masculine charms, right?" And that's one thing about talking too much, you often don't notice other things going on around you. Whatever Z'yi is talking to his dragon about goes right over the nanny's head.
Inviere cocks a delicate wheat-colored eyebrow at Warucori. "Apparently they don't eat people." She pauses. "That's what they /tell/ me, anyway." She swills her drink in her glass, boredly, and looks up through her eyelashes at Rorkes. "If memory serves, you're less suck, all swallow." She stops to think about that for a second. "...that was a really terrible metaphor."
Isforaith crows again, a decidedly odd sound coming from a dragon's throat, more like a whale-bellow in resonance than a rooster, and does his damnedest to encircle Teris and Gustav both with body and too-long tail. Z'yi seems resigned, and stares laser-beams at his lifemate for a long moment, before turning a caustic eye to Teris. "Your boss is going to kill me." There's a twitch of lips, and then: "Teris, kid-who-never-shuts-up-- how do you feel about heat?" Z'yi dubiously eyes Isforaith again, as if to gauge the blue's insistence. "'Cause he wants both of you to Stand for Iovniath's clutch, if you two would so oblige His Idiocy." For all the sarcasm, there's expectant gaze settled first on one, then the other.
The aforementioned criminals are, in fact, out and about. It's just past their dinner hour, and the overseers are leading them back to their hole in the eastern bowl in relatively small groups to avoid interrupting the party. Taikrin is in the second of such groups, hanging towards the back of her handful of convicts. None of them seem to be moving very quickly, much to the chagrin of the supervisor: to a man, they are eyeing the party -- and, in particular, the apparent supply of alcohol -- with no small amount of envy. "Eh, great. Lookit them, livin' it up," Taikrin mutters to the short convict walking just in front of her. "Ain't it nice."
Saliqa bounces quite easily to latch with big bright eyes onto what the Weyrwoman's saying, in turn. "Then I suppose we'll have to give them their /own/ party!" Now it's good job, Tiriana! But the other one is talking now. It's a trip, attempting to balance the Weyr leadership, apparently, because, pulling back, the Crom girl only stares K'del down in a bland sort of uncomprehending way. Her nodding has continued absently, but she forces herself to stop. Then, the little noise of her clearing her throat politely. "I'm sorry, sir. It's quite noisy out here, I'm afraid I didn't really hear you. The eggs? I saw them.. they're quite nice... but I was saying..." Hand-wave at Tiriana. Support!
"/What/," says Tiriana, squawking out just that word as K'del spits his question out. And Z'yi, too, so Tiriana, trying to keep up with it all, swings her head around that way and looks suddenly desperate. "Not /them/," she says in the end, lower lip quivering. "She's my--and she--" The most she can do is flap a hand vaguely at Teris, and then Saliqa, desperately. Gustav? Who cares about him when her protege and her fashion advisor are getting stolen from right underneath her nose.
"Ale, definitely," Gabe opines. "I mean, wine is for really sophisticated people. Most dragons are just... more ale types, you know? At least all the dragons /I've/ know. Except maybe mom's. Her green might be more of a wine type of dragon."
"It... is," agrees Rorkes, delicately, with a pointed look to Warucori. There's a kid in the room! "I'm not quite sure what to make of that," he adds, though, on the end. "Have you met Cori here? She's new, I do believe. And no, no, they won't eat you, however big their teeth are. Though sometimes they like to act meaner than they are, but." A shrug. To Inviere, "How are you doing, then? No more... bad nights like that one?"
K'del ignores - blatantly ignores - Tiriana's response so that he can explain to Saliqa, "No, no-- he wants you to /stand/ for them. He wants you to be a /Candidate/." And if that wasn't enough? A glance back at the hatching grounds, where, presumably, Cadejoth is egging him on, results in the Weyrleader catching sight of the convicts. "Oh! Someone stop them... We really should let /some/ of them stay. It's a party for everyone!" Make him stop.
"I'm not going to smell you!" Teris, the easily agitated, might swing at Gustav if she were more that sort. Never mind any smacking of little boys earlier. But whatever else she might have possibly said or been thinking, she's left staring blankly at the bluerider in the end. "Excuse me? If this is you trying to get me to sleep with you, first, it won't work, second, you do realize that that's generally frowned upon, right?"
Silarra grins over to Gabe. "True. Though maybe some of them would be into the harder stuff as well. But I bet it would take a /ton/ of rum to keep a dragon happy." And apparently this is something that really needs consideration.
Warucori gives Inviere a downright puzzled look at her comment about the harper, glancing at him before perking up and politely interjects, "he would swollow more if he could get some wine I bet. But people seem to be cutting in." At the dragon-bellow she startles again, no outburst this time thankfully but she puts a hand to her chest. "My word..." A warm smile returns for Inviere and she offers out her hand when she gets introduced. "so pleased to meet you. Oh yes, I'm new...I guess hiding it is out of the question." The understatement and the obvious exchange between the two lost on the distracted young woman. "So good that they don't eat people...just roar and snort on people."
"Yeah, body weight is a big factor in alcohol absorption," Gabe says in his most lecture-y healer voice. "So, it would take a lot to get a dragon drunk, unless they metabolize it drastically differently than humans do."
Even if Tiriana doesn't care about him (now), Gustav will still have sex with her at a later date if ever given even the smallest (tiniest, microscopic) hint of opportunity. She never has to fear! He on the other hand has plenty of fears. And one of those is kind of coming true in the form of a dragon wrapping his tail around him. Laughing, "Oh, this is perfect. You can say yes and I can pick a cot right next yours. Then you'll smell me all the time. Though I probably won't be as clean later." He's got his limits though and steps forward and hopefully out of the circle of the blue's tail. Just a little too close. More seriously to Z'yi, "I'll do it. Why not? Right?" There's a roll of his shoulders to Teris. "Don't be jerk, beautiful. Just say yes."
"No more bad nights like /that/ one," Inviere confirms obliquely. "This one isn't turning out to be one of my best, either. I'm used to parties being, oh... what's the word..." Her hand makes circles in the air, searching. "Oh yeah. Fun." She looks sideways at the cluster of Weyrleaders and Saliqa and everyone, and open resentment turns to bafflement as she tries to decipher their shocked expressions from afar. Then Warucori, all doe-eyed and hopeful -- how sad -- makes another bid for her attention. "The snorting seems... new." Grey eyes, questioning, go to Rorkes for this. Thoughts?
Impatient, "Teris, I'm not kidding, here," Z'yi shows an otherwise implacable expression, eyebrows lifted. "I mean, I understand if you're too scared about it all, but don't try to blame my int--" His gaze turns about, to Gustav. "See? Even the ki-- Gustav," he ammends himself, "--knows I'm serious. I don't have a knot on me, or I'd give you one, but I can take you back to--" A gestured jerk of the thumb over a shoulder. The living caverns, the candidate barracks, somewhere like that. Isforaith, meanwhile, looks pleased as punch, lowering his head to smell more deliberately at Teris' hair. Who can say no to /that/?
Though the convict-herd is too far away to hear K'del, though most /certainly/ can hear Isforaith. The supervisor himself slows, eyeing the blue cautiously as he does so. "What's he doin' in there, anyways?" Taikrin is just as wary as the others, just louder about it: her voice is slightly shrill with nervousness. "Is he drunk, d'you think? Can they /do/ that?"
"Stand..." Saliqa repeats in that careful way of someone taking dictation. Her only move to attempt to get her hands folded at her chest is unconsciously aborted when her mind goes to juggling other things. "Which would mean... /not/ going home to Crom come time... I just--" Piggybacking on his gaze, she finds the pack of convicts, heralding the return of her pensive finger-tapping. But how to get back on track now! There's an overly polite but somehow still thin smile as she leans slightly in to K'del, "Is it proper, when the Weyrwoman seems to object?"
She might not be wearing quite her heavy boots, but Tiriana's shoe still comes down hard on K'del's foot when he starts flagging the convicts. "Shut the hell up," she hisses at him, not remotely ladylike; not even glowing like she was when she first arrived to the party. "They're /convicts/. It's my party. You're going to ruin my party." She is, apparently, willing to sacrifice Saliqa now, just as long as it means she doesn't have to entertain criminals. See the wobbly lip? "Oh, fine, go on," she huffs at the latter Crommy. "You might as well."
"Good to hear," but Rorkes sounds rather distracted now, watching Isforaith again, or perhaps more the two would-be candidates the blue has cornered. "I believe the searchriders are already out," he answers Inviere, cutting his eyes back to her for a moment, and then including Warucori in the explanation. "They're always so impatient to get started; I'm surprised sometimes the barracks aren't full already by the time we even get eggs."
Silarra looks over to the dragon then back to Gabe with a grin. "Whatever you say, healer-man." She teases for the lecture type tone to his voice. "But that means that with my not-so-gigantic size, I should be able to go really enjoy a drink. I think there's some ale that needs to have /my/ name on it. Not a dragons'."
Gabrion apparently has reached the end of what he has to say about dragons and alcohol. "Yeah. Uh - I'm gonna duck inside for a little bit, but I'll probably come back later. Have fun, okay?" He grins at Silarra, and then heads caverns-ward.
K'del's response to Saliqa is aborted unceremoniously as Tiriana's shoe comes down on his foot. He /is/ wearing boots, which spares him part of the impact-- but not enough that he doesn't let out a little yelp. "Don't be silly," he tells the Weyrwoman, regardless, putting Saliqa on hold for a moment more. "It'd be a nice gesture... just a few of them. /Good/ ones. Hey--" He's waving over a rider standing nearby. "Go tell them. A couple of good ones. With a guard. And-- yes, come on, Saliqa, say yes. Surely Lord Crom wouldn't mind /too/ much." Meanwhile, his rider-messenger is waved away, not waiting for Tiriana's reaction, and heads straight for the convoy of convicts to deliver the message.
OOC Date: February 17, 2010
IC Date: Day 23, month 13, turn 21 of Interval 10.
Who: Inviere, K'del, Saliqa, Teris, Tiriana, W'chek, Warucori, Silarra, Z'yi, Rorkes, Gustav, Taikrin
Where: HRW Bowl
At the clutching party, Gabe goes toe to toe with Inviere and - perhaps surprisingly - comes out on top. It doesn't hurt that Z'yi is huge. While people get searched and near-pandemonium ensues, Gabe and Silarra speculate about the drinking habits of dragons.
Inviere approaches alone, surprise surprise, her arms buried nearly elbow-deep in what must be some pretty respectable coat pockets. In spite of that, she's without headwear or scarffage or any other significant cold weather accoutrement -- so it's hard to account for her half-hunched shoulders, her ducked head. She does seem to have a bead on the serving table, where she heads forthwith, unaccosted. Maybe.
That short list of "friends of W'chek"? K'del isn't on it. As he is, however, on the even shorter list of "W'chek's Wingleader and Weyrleader", the more junior bronzerider is not in a position to just make some kind of nasty comment and continue in avoidance. "Twenty. Yeah. Great." Okay, so he sounds about as excited as a guy whose boss just started talking about plans for a luxury vacation. "Haven't seen 'em, no." A crane of neck as he attempts to figure out what the hold-up is in the line.
Distinctly determined eyes widen into happiness to match her smile as Saliqa surfaces from her curtsy to the sight of those gold accessories. "Oh, look!" She nearly echoes the woman, flitting out an eager hand towards them, but pulling back before she can intrude on the Weyrwoman's space. "I'm so very pleased they could be worn on such a celebratory occasion. I don't know the business, but I hear this is a fine clutch, as they say, worth celebrating-- worth rewarding!" She makes polite pauses and glances to the side when others want to take their turns to say something, but she appears otherwise attached to this spot by Tiriana.
Teris is wearing something fairly nice but still rather simple as suits her tastes even if it's somewhat hidden beneath a coat that isn't anything particularly special. But her hair is down and she's /here/ which is something, right? The assistant, notably, isn't approaching the Weyrwoman since she spends a fair amount of time with her anyway. She ends up in a line somewhere behind K'del and W'chek to wait for a drink. By herself.
K'del is not going to let even W'chek spoil his mood (at least, that seems to be the plan for now), so despite the less-than-enthusiastic response, he continues to beam at the other bronzerider. At least the line moves forward a couple of steps at that point, which postpones K'del's answer for a few seconds-- but not indefinitely. "Don't be like that. Special day! Celebration. Free booze. Clutches are important in weyrs... don't reckon you regret our last one, hm?"
Gabrion is still dressed in his work clothes, with a thin jacket and a knitted hat to keep him warm. He's heard the news, clearly, because his face is bright with excitement as he joins the mob of people in the bowl. He scouts the line at the serving table, frowns, and with a discreet sideways shuffle, he casually cuts in line in front of Teris. But no, he's just standing there innocently, do de do...
Inviere parks herself behind a diminutive blonde who's bouncing on the balls of her feet -- whether from cold or excitement is hard to infer, though it's probably some combination of both -- but their eyes meet and some sort of phatic half-pleasantries are exchanged. Apparently they work together now, in a paper-filled hole somewhere in the inner caverns, and if Inviere isn't just GUSHING enthusiasm, it doesn't seem to take much to get the blonde to start yammering. "It's SO exCIting, ISN'T it?" The punctuation is hers. "I even WATCHED some of the eggs coming OUT." Her eyes go wide. "They were... slimier. Than I thought. But so. PRETTY."
"Important," W'chek echoes. Like the line movement. That's important. Even if it doesn't actually prevent him from still being in line right behind K'del. More looking around, this time with a bit less urgency. He's not looking for someone else to talk to. Sure. "Special day. Free booze." That last actually gets a little bit of a smile. "No. Not... as such. But better not to have Anvori here pressing drinks into my hand tonight, thanks, if it's all the same."
"It seemed fitting," says Tiriana, and while she tries to sound mature and respectable, there's a certain amount of childish glee even in that one statement. "Twenty! Did you see them? Twenty. It's a good clutch--better than that last one. Those eggs were so ugly, you know? But these!" Nevermind there are just as many ugly eggs in this one as the last; that doesn't seem to register much right now.
Teris is paying attention. Thus, she glares at the back of Gabrion's head when he cuts into the line in front of her. Then she smacks him upside it with the back of her hand. It's not overly hard, more meant to get attention than hurt. "/Excuse/ me. But there's a line here, if you hadn't noticed. Move." The last is said firmly and the blonde points off behind her somewhere.
That comment of W'chek's makes K'del laugh merrily; "Suppose not. Guess you can manage your own drink intake this time." Again the line moves forward, and this time, leaves K'del as the very next in line. "Anyway, guess this means you can see whether Zhikath's got a talent for searching people at all; that's always fun." Beat. "Cadejoth doesn't seem to. At least... didn't grab even one, last time. Too busy mooning over Iovniath and the eggs."
"I'll have to take your word for it," Inviere is saying absently to her exuberant coworker. She's looking into the immediate distance now, on the balls of her feet to see over a few tall rider-types in front of her. "HEY," she calls down to Gabrion. "MIDGET."
Perhaps the glee is infectious; whatever the case, Saliqa lets out a breathy, encouraging laugh at the Weyrwoman's enthusiasm. "Twenty," she once again repeats, bringing that hand to bear in the direction of the galleries, "I passed by once, I did, but there was only seven then. First time in the galleries, too. I can't even imagine what that place is like full... all those people, they'll be coming to see these lovely eggs. See the Weyr!" And she turns sideways to glance about the bowl. Her gaze lands very pointedly, with a sort of 'hmmph' sniff at the part still under construction.
"OWWW!" Gabe yelps, ducking much too late to avoid Teris's smack. "Hey! You /hit/ me," he whines. "Don't hit! ...AND I'M NOT A MIDGET!" he hollers at Inviere.
The reaction that W'chek has to K'del's notion is not, as one might expect, in any way pleased--"Sharding *hope* not. Between all those errands and sweeps outside the Weyr and going home every couple weeks--specially that. Far as I'm concerned, best left to other people." He pauses. "More sociable people." There's hollering going on back there, drawing his attention--"What are you guys, five?"
Inviere is relentless. "/What/?" she calls to Gabrion, effectively deafening the poor girl in front of her. She holds one hand up to her ear, eyes squinting as if confused or in strain. "I'm sorry... humans can't hear in that range!" A few people shoot her dirty looks. A few others ignore her. And fewer still -- they kind of smirk. Just a little. "Try again when your voice changes in 20 years!" If she hears W'chek -- a fleeting, sideways dart of her attention suggests she probably does -- she ignores him.
Warucori steps out and onto the bowl, pulling a heavy knitted scarf around her neck and shoulders with an awkward twist and loop motion. At seeing so many people out she pauses but then decides on a forward course rather than the quick glance back in the direction she came. The girl flashes a nervous smile, bobs her head hello and tries her best to mill around the main group to see what's going on.
K'del, it's fair to say, looks pretty surprised, but then, perhaps he's so pleased and excited at the moment that he's not really thinking about who he's talking to. "Oh," he says, after a moment. "Guess we'll see." That's the point at which it's his turn to head to the drinks table, and so he leaves it at that, conveniently missing what's going on behind him in the line. He collects two drinks, both whiskey, and heads off in the other direction.
"You /cut/ in front of me," Teris returns, completely unapologetic. It's a fair exchange, apparently. Except that she's still not happy with the new arrangement. But rather than try to get him to move to the back of the line, Teris just moves to step around in front of him. She doesn't care if he cuts anyone behind her, apparently.
Gabrion isn't bothered by being cut in front of - that's fair enough. But he scolds Teris, "You still shouldn't hit people." He then casts a contemptuous look over his shoulder at Inviere, rolls his eyes, and calls out, "You should keep your voice down, Inviere! Just because your mom's the type of person who sleeps with goats, doesn't mean you should tell the whole weyr!" Gabe: winning friends and influencing people since Turn 6.
Inviere turns a color not seen in nature, and possibly not seen in dreams, either. Apparently she sucks the pigment directly out of Chatty Cathy's soul: the other girl goes ashen as Inviere storms out of the line, her long legs taking her to Gabrion inside 15 seconds. That's still plenty of time for him to scamper off, right?
"It takes forever to get them all out," Tiriana agrees, grimacing faintly at that. "Faranth only knows how they stood the waiting back when the clutches were thirty, forty. And the gold nearly last, too!" But that brings back that grin again, as she pulls her coat tighter around her now that she's cooled off from the sands. "Are you going to stay to the hatching? You should just see it then, with everybody around, and all the hatchlings. Now /that's/ something. The eggs are kind of boring in comparison. --You want something to drink?"
K'del weaves his way through the crowd, pressing past any number of people - well-wishers and otherwise - on his way towards a specific target: Tiriana. She and Saliqa get a brilliant smile and a nod as he approaches, though one of his hands, holding that spare whiskey glass, gets extended towards the Weyrwoman; "Brought you a drink," is his greeting, bright and cheery. "Figured you might not get that way quickly, all these people." Beat. "They did well." Never mind that they were having a conversation before him: /he's/ here.
As Saliqa's gaze travels back from the edge of the bowl, she makes a few polite smiles here and there -- one of her friends who looks the way, the nervous looking Warucori. It's an exercise before she aims the expression at her company, "It really is. Something, I mean. As I'm sure the hatching is, but, well, my duties are to... my home. If I'm needed there..." An ominous darkness taints her smile before she shoos it off, more hurriedly making sure to gesture back where she was looking. "Do you think they'll have the bowl fi--" Enter Weyrleader. Dark look, the sequel. Then, a stiffer curtsy. "Look, ma'am, your drinks just appear here. How kind."
Now that Gabrion is behind her, Teris is going to do her best to ignore the boy and the woman that he's flirting or whatever with. Even when she approaches. She'll get to the drink table eventually. Really. "For Faranth's sake, hurry up," she says, though it's not really to anyone in particular. Never mind the look she gives the man in front of her that turns around to eye her.
Dark looks? And Z'yi isn't a part of them? Damn, he must be losing his knack at inciting emotion. The big bluerider is meandering through the crowds in a zip-zag, careful with his healing shoulder; though, when he does get bumped on that side, it doesn't appear to affect him too terribly. "Good job," he comments to Tiriana and K'del as he passes by the little knot, a wink and a sketched salute for the pair, and a smile besides for Saliqa-- but someone else attracts his attention, and soon enough, he's clapping Gabe on the shoulder like an old friend. "I told you the twitch would go away," triumphant and smug all rolled into one.
Warucori doesn't hide her bewilderment very well. Instead she forgets to close her mouth as she peers this way and that. Gawking with the wild-eyed half horror, half stupid delight in all the fuss and activity, she almost trips over a child with a stammered apology before managing to get into line--but schooling her features? Not so much.
Or 15 seconds to be clapped on the shoulder by the hugest guy in the weyr! Gabe beams up at Z'yi. "That's great! I'm glad to hear it. Sometimes it's important to get this stuff checked out, because it might be nothing, but if it's not, then it could be really really bad. I figured you'd be alright though." And then he turns to the unnaturally-colored Inviere and gives her an extra sweet smile. "Did you need something, pookie? ...have you met Z'yi?" he indicates the bluerider. "This is Inviere," he says to Z'yi. "She thinks she's going to start something, I think."
Even K'del can't darken Tiriana's mood today. "There's a gold," she tells him, dreamily. Like he didn't know that already. She reaches for the drink automatically, with a breezy, "You can stay until the hatching. It won't be too long, and it's something to see, at any rate. Crom can't grudge you that. --What is this?" The latter to K'del, as she suddenly thinks to give her drink a little suspicious look.
Silarra strides out into the crowd. Somehow the fairly short girl manages to spot the equally short cousin in all of this because she's angling his way, even if it means cutting in line. "Gabe!" She greets. Z'yi get a grin as well before she eyes Inviere, the grin fading.
It could be Paul friggin' Bunyan, for all Inviere seems to care, though the board-stiff, bared-palm hand she's got braced to rearrange Gabrion's charmingly boyish features with comes to a halt not long after it begins its arc. "I /realize/," she begins, "that everyone here is a special snowflake. But you'd do well to learn some /manners/." She glares up at Z'yi -- not so much because it's his FAULT as it is that he's in the way. "And yes. We've met."
Dark eyes betray Z'yi's eternal amusement, shifting from Gabe to Inviere as the healer pronounces his companion. "Isforaith's regards," he comments to Inviere, irony heavy in his undertones. His lips turn into a much more open grin, and he abandons Gabe to Inviere's tender mercies to beam that rather boyish expression to Teris and Silarra alike. "Why, my two favorite girls in the whole damn weyr." Who let Z'yi in the booze? Or maybe he was smokin' out in the back with Rodric.. "Silarra, you look to be doing well. Teris, my dear, whyever do you scowl so?" His grin tickles with laughter, lopsided and so atypical.
It's early in the night, and the harpers playing currently are mostly apprentices and other low-level folks: the warm-up act before the main performers. So it is that Rorkes has some free time before his turn on the stage to mill around with the crowd, offering greetings and pausing to chat with a few acquaintances as he makes the rounds, drink in hand.
In the wake of Saliqa's curtsey, K'del gives a little bob of the head, sort of like a bow only involving less body. To Tiriana, gleefully: "I heard!" Cadejoth, after all, must have told most of Pern already, in his glee. And, to answer her question, "Whiskey. You should stay, Saliqa; it'll be something to see. Tell your grandkids, and all. Hatchings are /fun/." He takes a drink out of his own glass, apparently, to emphasise that the whiskey is for drinking.
Gabrion flashes a grin at Z'yi, and then turns to greet Silarra. "Hey, cousin! Look, isn't that cute? She's lecturing people about manners," he says brightly, talking about Inviere as if she weren't even there. "How's it going?"
It's a little harder for Teris to ignore the things that are going on behind her when Z'yi joins the picture. But the glance back is quick, slightly narrow-eyed, then she's turning forward again like the bluerider is no one of particular note. "They're boys," she says, presumably to Inviere even though she's not facing any of them, "Manners might be expecting too much of them." She rolls her eyes at Z'yi but the back of her head might not really convey that very well. Oh, look, it's her turn. She moves to get herself a glass of wine and then she's off to mingle. Or something.
A party? Who would Gustav be if he weren't there in the middle of everything? Food and wine appears to be of little concern to him as he mingles through the crowd, hopping from one group to another. He's met with mixed reception, some people seem to think he's funny while others are not nearly as amused. He notably skips past any male-only gatherings. After departing from a particularly receptive mix of giggling girls he turns and wanders right on, possibly into Teris' path if she doesn't diverge from it.
Inviere's glower flickers ever-so-slightly to make room for a wry smile at Z'yi -- well, okay, maybe not a smile, but a look of recognition at some private joke. But it fades as soon as his attention is gone. She jabs a long, sharp finger at Gabrion's chest. "You have to sleep eventually, you nasty little runt," she hisses. "And I've moved shitpiles that weigh more than you." She turns to look over her shoulder at Teris, apparently surprised at the semblance of sympathy. "Hit him harder next time."
"Congratulations are in order," Saliqa laces her gesture with, then letting the two leaders share their moment, while she watches Z'yi pass by with a sort of automatic smile for his. "Well, it's very nice of you both to say... I'm flattered, really. I will, perhaps, see what the word is like at home in Crom," safer to say, now that Tiriana has used the name. "It's also good to see everyone around so cheerful for this momentous occasion... I think there's only one thing missing, really..." A finger raises to tap lightly against her chin as she has no go-to drink to fill the space.
Warucori perks even more, rocking onto her toes at the sound of music. Perhaps it's been there this whole time, but she's been distracted with staring at Gabrion and Inviere. Now that particular spell is broken and she turns to watch the harpers as the line to the drinks and food slowly inches forward. Of course, people keep cutting in, so her chances of quick refreshment look poor. Long fingers pluck at her work smock and her expression falls, it's hardly the proper outfit for dancing.
Silarra doesn't pick up on Gabe's joking solution apparently. Instead she glares over to Inviere. "And you touch one hair on his head? I will beat you into the ground with your shoe." She threatens before she glances to Z'yi. "Favorite? You must have limited acquintances." There's a dryly humorous tone there, as opposed to the threat.
"What's that? You were born and raised in a stable, and used a shitpile for a pillow your entire youth? That explains a lot," Gabe says to Inviere with another sweet smile. Silarra's dry comment to Z'yi makes him laugh, and he says, "Oh don't be silly, you're one of my favorites, too. Though in some cases the competition isn't trying very hard." Now who on /Pern/ could he be talking about?
"Oh. Oh, good, then," says Tiriana, and she guzzles a long drink of her whiskey, not very ladylike despite her dress. "Hatchings /are/ fun. And then you have weyrlings. And they mostly suck, and don't live up to their lineage, but kids. What can you do with them?" She's eyeing Z'yi as she says this, since he's big and loud and noticeable and such. Her sniff is only mildly put-out, though, and even that only for a minute.
And just in case you didn't think it was crowded enough... a certain dark-denim dragon has begun to nose through the crowd, heedless of stepping on people. Get out the way, yo. He lowers his big blue mug to sniff against a certain young man's hair, then snorts, carries on. Z'yi, on the /other/ side of the crowd, looks up with an expression of transfixed morbid interest. Like watching a train wreck, but with more mortification. Hey, back to Silarra. "Oh, come on. You're far preferable to... some people..." Excuse him for choking, since Isforaith has dropped his head down to inspect the weyrleaders and their companion, sniffing especially fondly at Tiriana. Hey, mom's rider. Hit anyone recently?
"What's that?" asks K'del, of Saliqa, brows raised, evidently not entirely sure what she's after. Then, after a moment, "Would've brought another drink, if I'd realised you were here." His brows narrow slightly, as though there's something on his mind, but he doesn't voice it, instead concluding, with a glance at Tiriana, "Dunno. I kinda like the weyrlings. The little dragons are cute."
Eventually, the harper falls into the refreshment line himself after stopping to chat with a few more people along the way. He ends up on the tail end of the line, alongside Warucori, and while he doesn't go so far as to cut in line earlier, he does frown slightly and lean around the younger girl to see just how far it is that they have to go. "I do hope we make it through this, before I'm due to go on," he remarks, with a wry grin for her.
"You know there are people trying to walk around here," Teris says to Gustav when she pulls up short to avoid getting /too/ close to him. Her attention wanders briefly when she spies a certain harper but she only watches him for a moment, then her blue eyes pull back to the nanny with a brow hitched up.
"What's that?" asks K'del, of Saliqa, brows raised, evidently not entirely sure what she's after. Then, after a moment, "Would've brought another drink, if I'd realised you were here." His brows narrow slightly, as though there's something on his mind, but he doesn't voice it, instead concluding, with a glance at Tiriana, "Dunno. I kinda like the weyrlings. The little dragons are cute." The big dragons? Like the one suddenly in the vicinity? Evidently less cute, because his attention gets turned rather rapidly, and he stares, blankly, at Isforaith.
Inviere, apparently giving up on Gabrion, looks down her nose -- she tilts her head back to improve the effect -- at Silarra. "With what, your face? Stop defending your boyfriend. It's cute, but--" here her voice modulates into thin honey, watery and sad-- "turns out he's not that into you." She says it loudly enough for Gabrion to HEAR her, of course, and then she pointedly washes her hands of it, removing herself from the food line in favor of the booze.
"Oh, oh, it's you. The rather angry girl." Did he ever get her name? Gustav carries on anyway, that's not important. Right? "I do see that people are trying to walk. But I could argue that you're in my way. But I'll let it slide." Wink. "When are you going to dance with me? Now, later? If you say later I'm just going to follow you around like a cute little pupp- Is that a dragon?" When he cuts off and replaces his original sentence with that question, he's genuinely surprised. Pointing to Isforaith, "I don't think we have any wine glasses big enough for him."
Silarra clenches her hands into tight fists at her sides. "My /cousin/ is so much better than you'll ever be." She calls after Inviere before she shakes her head. "I just want to smack that look off of her face so badly." She states before she looks over to Gabe and Z'yi. "True. There are some idiotic girls in this weyr."
Saliqa's finger keeps up its insistent tapping through her eyes narrowing in a grasp for her next words. "Oh, no, sir, I didn't mean anything by it. I only thought that, with the boon of the eggs and all, now would be a good.... time... to..." Apparently /fate/ does not want her to get to the topic she wants, because a second intrusion has made itself known -- and this one far larger than the Weyrleader even. "/My/..." Her jaw inches lower in a most unmannerly fashion before she gets that tapping finger to snap it nicely shut.
Warucori peels her eyes away from the musicians and gives the harper who's stepped into line by her a dazzling smile. "oh my word you've got that right. I think there's some sort of hang up ahead...or a tangle or...something." She rushes on excitedly, "I think that little boy is going to get hurt. Someone should help him, but really he sounds like he has the worst manners. My father would wash my mouth out and send me to my bed without anything to eat." SHe blushes suddenly, "oh...but I don't know...maybe they are just kidding between themselves. Do you think?"
A drink acquired--just the one, and okay, yes, it's alcoholic, but it's still just one--W'chek filters back over to a few of his wingmates to start in on a rousing conversation about something nobody else could possibly have any interest in that has very little to do with eggs. And there he'll remain for the time being.
Gabrion is /highly/ amused. "And," he says to Silarra, relishing the whole thing, "some who think it's an /insult/ to say that you don't want to sleep with your own cousin. Who knew?"
"The little dragons are--you, go away," and if that weren't enough, Tiriana turns to shove against Isforaith's muzzle, as though that's going to move the big blue. "Not for dragons. You're going to step on my dress or something." She glowers at the blue, and finishes off her whiskey in short order. The empty glass is shoved back at K'del where it came from, so she can cross her arms. "To what?" she asks Saliqa, peering at her.
"I'm not dancing with you. Or anyone," Teris assures Gustav pointedly, though she does look over toward the large blue. "They are fairly common around here. You know, Weyr and all." She could probably be more sarcastic but the general gist of it is fairly well made obvious. "If he's anything like his rider--" but the blonde's voice cuts off as she takes a drink of her wine and just doesn't continue.
The drink line being a bit shorter than the food line, Inviere manages to get up to the good stuff without any altercations this time. She seizes a goblet, or a glass, or whatever it is they've got for drinky drinks, and fills one up with something stiff. The way she HOLDS the thing between her fingers is weirdly ladylike by contrast, but there's nothing girlish about the glower she sends over the rim at, you know. Pretty much everyone.
Z'yi is still transfixed, for the moment. "He's going to get me killed," stated to Silarra. "Killed." He shouldn't sound so faintly surprised at all of this. "He's an idiot." Statement of the year! "A bloody, fardling idiot." Excuse his french. Isforaith, meanwhile, doesn't seem to think that he is-- he whuffs warm air all over Saliqa, and snorts, leaning his head against Tiri's hand with absolutely no regard for the fact that she's the freaking weyrwoman. He, at least, does not sneeze at her, as he lifts his head up and starts moving /past/ them, further into the crowd. Towards Z'yi. He's almost made it, before he gets distracted-- hey, look, you smell nice too! The big blue leans to sniff thoughtfully at Rorkes, then lifts his head to sneeze -- a luckily dry sneeze.
"To what?" says K'del, echoing Tiriana's remark, as he takes back the Weyrwoman's glass, with only the faintest twitch of amusement and/or resignation. His is not quite empty yet; he finishes it off in fairly short order a moment later. His eyes settle on Saliqa, narrowed slightly in concentration and interest; they flick back towards Isforaith for only a moment, frowning, but the blue is taking his leave, and that seems good enough for the Weyrleader.
"Oh. Ah." Rorkes begins auspiciously, frowning as he leans over to look at the groups ahead again. The shrill voices of the argumentative youths makes him shake his head slightly. "Somehow, I'm doubting it, though I can't say I know most of them very well. But the one girl... Well." Possibly that story is better saved for older company. "Anyway, it looks like--oh, Faranth." So much for age-appropriate, as Rorkes gets sneezed at. He weathers it well, weyrbred and all, but grimaces all the same. "There's always that one," he drawls to Warucori.
"Why not? I smell nice. I took a bath today and I even put some cologne on." He holds his arm out for Teris to smell his skin. In his defense, he actually doesn't smell bad. You know, if she decides to actually stick her nose on him. "Yes, I've noticed that. But do the blue ones normally go up to the weyrleaders and say hello? And then mingle through the crowd? That one seems to have a cold." He gestures vaguely in the direction of the dragon, though his eyes are now turned away. "Does his rider have an illness too?"
Warucori was there, just minding her own business. And eaves-dropping on random conversations. Oh, and trying to keep her eyes in her head and her jaw from dragging on the ground. Then, there's the dragon--coming their way. Rorkes way...which would be her way, since she's beside him. She suddenly grips his arm, stammering loudly just before he is sneazed on--and then she screams. Just one scream really. A single burst of shrill fear and then she's using Rorke as a sheild, since /he/ seems to be the one better at weathering such things.
Silarra relaxes a bit, hands unclenching as she flashes Gabe a smile. "True. I think I'd be rather more offended if my cousin /did/ want to sleep with me. No offense, but, ew." She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. Then she turns to eye the dragon moving through the crowd. "Not killed. Embarrassed or yelled at maybe, but hopefully no one will die this party." Silarra adds with a familiar sarcastic tone.
Saliqa's hands dart from her face to her skirts immediately at the weird dragon breathing thing and she holds this pose quite warily until the big thing appears to have moved on. If that truly works in the crowd. Angling a look over her shoulder, she's brought around by K'del's echo of the question. "Ahh..." Forehead wrinkles in attempted focus and she makes an empty gesture at first. "Right! To make a gesture, as it were. You can plainly see how one good event can raise the hopes of a whole crowd, well there's some of us needing that, perhaps, what with all the unfortunate cave-ins lately..." A careful nod indicates the convicts' general work area.
Inviere just barely avoids sloshing drink on herself, with that scream, and after a stuttered round of girlish "ughs" and "aughs," sets to scanning the crowd for the offender. "Have you people LOST. Your MINDS?" she asks, generally and to a couple of guys standing apace. One of them shrugs; the other one grins nervously. Step /away/ from the crazy lady.
The clinging to his arm earns Warucori a more startled look than the dragon does. Rorkes grimaces, too, at the shrieking, and ducks his head to rub one ear with his free arm. But he doesn't try to move away, at least, and leave Warucori to the dragon's mercy. "Are you okay?" he wonders as Isforaith finally moves on. "Not sure what's gotten into that one, but they're harmless, really. Promise. I'm Rorkes, by the way." Because introductions make hiding so much more personable.
"The dumbass isn't sick," Z'yi states to the nameless one who states that Isforaith may be ill. "And he's too old, Raith." Lips twitch in bemusement, the bluerider moves to stand more turned towards him, next to Silarra. Peanut gallery! "If anyone could die at a party-- it would be me. Tiriana would be the one doing the killing, too." Isforaith stubbornly stands over Rorkes, leaning down to examine first him, then his companion. Why do you scream, girl? It was just a sneeze. Then a blonde flash of hair catches his eye-- Oh hey, check it out, it's Jeibeth's rider's sister! His expression visibly brightens, and he shuffles closer to Teris, as if to see what all the fuss is about. "Not her," Z'yi calls out, makes a shushing movement with a hand, his smile fading rather quickly. But wait! There's another one! Raith now drops his head to assess Gustav, too, even if he isn't quite as pretty as Teris.
Isforaith's progress through the crowd loses Tiriana's attention almost as quickly as he's gone past her, K'del, and Saliqa. As long as he doesn't squish anybody close enough to splatter on her dress, she's cool with it, apparently. Carrying on, she eyes Saliqa. "Wait, what?" she wants to know, as she tries to focus in on what the holder girl's saying. "What... are you going on about, now?"
Silarra looks Z'yi over and shakes her head. "Nah. You're to big to die from Tiriana punching you. A bruise maybe. Death? Not so much." She decides watching the blue for a second longer. "What on Pern is he doing? Does he like the way people smell? They been into Gabe's froofroo soaps or something?"
Warucori didn't /mean/ to shriek and she does cover her mouth, her eyes squeezing closed, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry." SHe hunches behind Rorkes a little longer, freeing her fingers from him but not moving from behind him. "What was that? I mean, obviously a dragon right? But...b-but what was he doing? That sounded /terrible/." She rattles a little, hands shaking as she tries for composure. "Oh, I feel so foolish...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scream. Just my brother told me to be careful around dragons and that I shouldn't look them right in the eye and...and I thought he was teasing me but....ohmygosh." She giggles nervously, "I...I'm Cori....Warucori. Oh...I'm glad I didn't have a drink in my hands." Small mercies.
Teris turns her head to shoot Gustav an irritated look. "I'm not going to smell you," she says for the proffered arm, then adds, "And I don't /want/ to dance. It's not personal. Maybe a little personal. You're strange. What was your name again?" Her gaze had wandered back to Rorkes but she's rudely interrupted when the blue gets a little closer. She turns her attention to look at him, eyes narrowed, "Don't you think it's a little rude to go wandering through the crowd?" Then to Gustav like the dragon isn't actually listening, "He's a big oaf. Just like his rider."
K'del's expression loses its smile for the first time this evening as Saliqa speaks, and for once, he's quicker than the Weyrwoman in deciphering what's being said. "The /convicts/?" He stares, opens his mouth to say something else, then ends up staring again. "Not-- shells, look, maybe we can talk about it another time? But they're convicts. It's-- they could just come to this party, or something. Or Turnover." He looks surprisingly agitated, and keeps glancing over his shoulder, off towards the hatching grounds.
Gabrion watches it all from a (presumably) safe distance. "I guess he just wanted to join the party," he says to Silarra. "Can dragons drink, I wonder?"
"Oh, he's not? Does he have an allergy of some sort?" Gustav calls as he lifts onto his toes a bit, gaining a better view of Z'yi. Not that the other guy isn't a zillion feet tall, but there are other people around. "I won't." Take it personally. "Strange, yes. I'm also very, very handsome. I think the 'strange' is part of my attraction. Girls like it. Mostly. Sometimes. Men hate it and so do prisoners too." He lowers back onto the flats of his feet, "I'll tell you my name /again/ when you tell me yours for the first... Heh, please don't sneeze on me." Genuinely a little nervous, he rocks back a bit. "I don't have a napkin big enough to wipe that type of slime off me."
Giving up on her immediate audience of two, Inviere proves she can multitask: drinking and walking at once, she makes her way over to the first and nearest familiar face she sees. Turns out Rorkes is the lucky guy. "Harper," she starts, with the barest of glances for Warucori (shaken, not stirred). "Surely /you're/ a rock in this sucking tide of insanity." She drinks, like punctuation.
"Nah," Z'yi replies to Silarra, flicking his gaze from Isforaith and co over towards K'del, then back again. "Mother..." Whatever else he states is muttered under his breath. "Excuse me," with a suddenly very grim expression on his face as he maneuvers from Silarra to Isforaith and his victims. "Teris," he greets, his expression not lightening as it moves to Gustav. "Do you ever shut up, kid?" is his greeting to the other, unceremonious-- and then Raith's dropping his head to whuff more at Gustav and make an odd little crowing noise, in the back of his throat. "Well, which one is it, then?" exasperated, from Z'yi to Raith, Teris and Gustav both suddenly ignored.
She doesn't look any less weighed down, Saliqa, as the meaning seems to go over Tiriana's head. But even as she's taking a breath in preparation, she pauses to dart her attention over to K'del instead; as she does, she eases her way into a defeated slouch with her lower lip sucking upward in a hint of disappointment. "But what an admirable move it'd be. And reward encourages harder work! I think it would reflect well... but I suppose you both know best, the hatching is too large of an event to take a chance... I see you're right to suggest a smaller venue. Earlier. Soon, perhaps." She gives a few decisive, approving nods. Oh, clever, clever, K'del, good job, K'del.
"So am I," says Rorkes, bemused at the last. "But it's very nice to meet you all the same, Cori. That was... ah. Not sure of his name, but one of the blues from the last clutch here, at any rate. I'm not sure what he's up to, but..." He trails off slowly, and peers from the hiding girl to Isforaith and his target, Teris, again. Studying that scene for a moment, he has to shake his head to clear it and offer again, "They're harmless, they really are. --Miss." The latter to Inviere, as she approaches them. "Not sure about that, but I do try not to, er, suck too much."
Silarra glances over to Gabe. "And if they do, would they rather have ale or wine?" Silarra jokes, in a better mood now that Inviere has found another target. "And could you imagine the damage one could do if it got staggering drunk?" She states watching Z'yi stalk off into the crowd. His size makes him easy to follow at least.
Isforaith would like to note, at this junction, that he would be a beer drinker. Oh yeah.
"We don't want them at /our/ party," Tiriana says, aghast at this idea. She gives K'del a withering look for the very idea. "Faranth, they're criminals." Like he hadn't just said that himself. She's looking a little confused at this point, peering from K'del to Saliqa and back again. "What are you signing us up for?" she demands abruptly of her Weyrleader. The honeymoon is apparently over.
Warucori gives Inviere a cheerfully rattled smile, "I'm so sorry to have screamed. It was just so unexpected. Did you see how close the dragon was? I could see his teeth! It was amazing." It only dawns on her after she's spoken that the other woman isn't smiling back at her and her hand goes to her mouth, her own smile fading. She steps out from behind Rorkes now that it's clear and she smooths a hand over her work smock, giving the harper a thankful smile. "Nice to meet you too."
If Teris was trying to keep her name from Gustav, Z'yi pretty much just ruined it. She puffs out a sigh at the bluerider but then offers Gustav a tight smile. "Yes. Teris. No, he never shuts up," which must be an answer for the bluerider even though she's still looking at Gustav. At least until the last. That makes her look at the dragon and his rider again, no happier for his
K'del goes blink. And again. Blink, blink. Blink. "Uh," he says, as he stares at Saliqa. A shifty little glance gets directed at Tiriana, and then, in a fairly impressive attempt at a save (or is it?) he blurts out: "Actually, got something more important to talk to you about, Saliqa..." Though he looks a little worried, even at this. "Cadejoth wants you. For the eggs, I mean. Wants you to stay. Stand for them." Saved! Only... maybe not so much.
"Not if I can help it." He replies to Z'yi, glancing briefly in the larger man's direction. Oh, he's sniffing him. Chance to make a point. The lightbulb practically dings over his head. "See, the dragon obviously likes the smell of my cologne. I don't understand why you won't smell me, even if I am strange." Gustav shoots to Teris as he continues to eyeball Isforaith, still a touch nervous and remaining on rocked heels. And then, she's given a name. "Thanks, bald relatively intimadating guy. Teris is a /beautiful/ name. I'm still Gustav, it's ugly, I know. At odds with my masculine charms, right?" And that's one thing about talking too much, you often don't notice other things going on around you. Whatever Z'yi is talking to his dragon about goes right over the nanny's head.
Inviere cocks a delicate wheat-colored eyebrow at Warucori. "Apparently they don't eat people." She pauses. "That's what they /tell/ me, anyway." She swills her drink in her glass, boredly, and looks up through her eyelashes at Rorkes. "If memory serves, you're less suck, all swallow." She stops to think about that for a second. "...that was a really terrible metaphor."
Isforaith crows again, a decidedly odd sound coming from a dragon's throat, more like a whale-bellow in resonance than a rooster, and does his damnedest to encircle Teris and Gustav both with body and too-long tail. Z'yi seems resigned, and stares laser-beams at his lifemate for a long moment, before turning a caustic eye to Teris. "Your boss is going to kill me." There's a twitch of lips, and then: "Teris, kid-who-never-shuts-up-- how do you feel about heat?" Z'yi dubiously eyes Isforaith again, as if to gauge the blue's insistence. "'Cause he wants both of you to Stand for Iovniath's clutch, if you two would so oblige His Idiocy." For all the sarcasm, there's expectant gaze settled first on one, then the other.
The aforementioned criminals are, in fact, out and about. It's just past their dinner hour, and the overseers are leading them back to their hole in the eastern bowl in relatively small groups to avoid interrupting the party. Taikrin is in the second of such groups, hanging towards the back of her handful of convicts. None of them seem to be moving very quickly, much to the chagrin of the supervisor: to a man, they are eyeing the party -- and, in particular, the apparent supply of alcohol -- with no small amount of envy. "Eh, great. Lookit them, livin' it up," Taikrin mutters to the short convict walking just in front of her. "Ain't it nice."
Saliqa bounces quite easily to latch with big bright eyes onto what the Weyrwoman's saying, in turn. "Then I suppose we'll have to give them their /own/ party!" Now it's good job, Tiriana! But the other one is talking now. It's a trip, attempting to balance the Weyr leadership, apparently, because, pulling back, the Crom girl only stares K'del down in a bland sort of uncomprehending way. Her nodding has continued absently, but she forces herself to stop. Then, the little noise of her clearing her throat politely. "I'm sorry, sir. It's quite noisy out here, I'm afraid I didn't really hear you. The eggs? I saw them.. they're quite nice... but I was saying..." Hand-wave at Tiriana. Support!
"/What/," says Tiriana, squawking out just that word as K'del spits his question out. And Z'yi, too, so Tiriana, trying to keep up with it all, swings her head around that way and looks suddenly desperate. "Not /them/," she says in the end, lower lip quivering. "She's my--and she--" The most she can do is flap a hand vaguely at Teris, and then Saliqa, desperately. Gustav? Who cares about him when her protege and her fashion advisor are getting stolen from right underneath her nose.
"Ale, definitely," Gabe opines. "I mean, wine is for really sophisticated people. Most dragons are just... more ale types, you know? At least all the dragons /I've/ know. Except maybe mom's. Her green might be more of a wine type of dragon."
"It... is," agrees Rorkes, delicately, with a pointed look to Warucori. There's a kid in the room! "I'm not quite sure what to make of that," he adds, though, on the end. "Have you met Cori here? She's new, I do believe. And no, no, they won't eat you, however big their teeth are. Though sometimes they like to act meaner than they are, but." A shrug. To Inviere, "How are you doing, then? No more... bad nights like that one?"
K'del ignores - blatantly ignores - Tiriana's response so that he can explain to Saliqa, "No, no-- he wants you to /stand/ for them. He wants you to be a /Candidate/." And if that wasn't enough? A glance back at the hatching grounds, where, presumably, Cadejoth is egging him on, results in the Weyrleader catching sight of the convicts. "Oh! Someone stop them... We really should let /some/ of them stay. It's a party for everyone!" Make him stop.
"I'm not going to smell you!" Teris, the easily agitated, might swing at Gustav if she were more that sort. Never mind any smacking of little boys earlier. But whatever else she might have possibly said or been thinking, she's left staring blankly at the bluerider in the end. "Excuse me? If this is you trying to get me to sleep with you, first, it won't work, second, you do realize that that's generally frowned upon, right?"
Silarra grins over to Gabe. "True. Though maybe some of them would be into the harder stuff as well. But I bet it would take a /ton/ of rum to keep a dragon happy." And apparently this is something that really needs consideration.
Warucori gives Inviere a downright puzzled look at her comment about the harper, glancing at him before perking up and politely interjects, "he would swollow more if he could get some wine I bet. But people seem to be cutting in." At the dragon-bellow she startles again, no outburst this time thankfully but she puts a hand to her chest. "My word..." A warm smile returns for Inviere and she offers out her hand when she gets introduced. "so pleased to meet you. Oh yes, I'm new...I guess hiding it is out of the question." The understatement and the obvious exchange between the two lost on the distracted young woman. "So good that they don't eat people...just roar and snort on people."
"Yeah, body weight is a big factor in alcohol absorption," Gabe says in his most lecture-y healer voice. "So, it would take a lot to get a dragon drunk, unless they metabolize it drastically differently than humans do."
Even if Tiriana doesn't care about him (now), Gustav will still have sex with her at a later date if ever given even the smallest (tiniest, microscopic) hint of opportunity. She never has to fear! He on the other hand has plenty of fears. And one of those is kind of coming true in the form of a dragon wrapping his tail around him. Laughing, "Oh, this is perfect. You can say yes and I can pick a cot right next yours. Then you'll smell me all the time. Though I probably won't be as clean later." He's got his limits though and steps forward and hopefully out of the circle of the blue's tail. Just a little too close. More seriously to Z'yi, "I'll do it. Why not? Right?" There's a roll of his shoulders to Teris. "Don't be jerk, beautiful. Just say yes."
"No more bad nights like /that/ one," Inviere confirms obliquely. "This one isn't turning out to be one of my best, either. I'm used to parties being, oh... what's the word..." Her hand makes circles in the air, searching. "Oh yeah. Fun." She looks sideways at the cluster of Weyrleaders and Saliqa and everyone, and open resentment turns to bafflement as she tries to decipher their shocked expressions from afar. Then Warucori, all doe-eyed and hopeful -- how sad -- makes another bid for her attention. "The snorting seems... new." Grey eyes, questioning, go to Rorkes for this. Thoughts?
Impatient, "Teris, I'm not kidding, here," Z'yi shows an otherwise implacable expression, eyebrows lifted. "I mean, I understand if you're too scared about it all, but don't try to blame my int--" His gaze turns about, to Gustav. "See? Even the ki-- Gustav," he ammends himself, "--knows I'm serious. I don't have a knot on me, or I'd give you one, but I can take you back to--" A gestured jerk of the thumb over a shoulder. The living caverns, the candidate barracks, somewhere like that. Isforaith, meanwhile, looks pleased as punch, lowering his head to smell more deliberately at Teris' hair. Who can say no to /that/?
Though the convict-herd is too far away to hear K'del, though most /certainly/ can hear Isforaith. The supervisor himself slows, eyeing the blue cautiously as he does so. "What's he doin' in there, anyways?" Taikrin is just as wary as the others, just louder about it: her voice is slightly shrill with nervousness. "Is he drunk, d'you think? Can they /do/ that?"
"Stand..." Saliqa repeats in that careful way of someone taking dictation. Her only move to attempt to get her hands folded at her chest is unconsciously aborted when her mind goes to juggling other things. "Which would mean... /not/ going home to Crom come time... I just--" Piggybacking on his gaze, she finds the pack of convicts, heralding the return of her pensive finger-tapping. But how to get back on track now! There's an overly polite but somehow still thin smile as she leans slightly in to K'del, "Is it proper, when the Weyrwoman seems to object?"
She might not be wearing quite her heavy boots, but Tiriana's shoe still comes down hard on K'del's foot when he starts flagging the convicts. "Shut the hell up," she hisses at him, not remotely ladylike; not even glowing like she was when she first arrived to the party. "They're /convicts/. It's my party. You're going to ruin my party." She is, apparently, willing to sacrifice Saliqa now, just as long as it means she doesn't have to entertain criminals. See the wobbly lip? "Oh, fine, go on," she huffs at the latter Crommy. "You might as well."
"Good to hear," but Rorkes sounds rather distracted now, watching Isforaith again, or perhaps more the two would-be candidates the blue has cornered. "I believe the searchriders are already out," he answers Inviere, cutting his eyes back to her for a moment, and then including Warucori in the explanation. "They're always so impatient to get started; I'm surprised sometimes the barracks aren't full already by the time we even get eggs."
Silarra looks over to the dragon then back to Gabe with a grin. "Whatever you say, healer-man." She teases for the lecture type tone to his voice. "But that means that with my not-so-gigantic size, I should be able to go really enjoy a drink. I think there's some ale that needs to have /my/ name on it. Not a dragons'."
Gabrion apparently has reached the end of what he has to say about dragons and alcohol. "Yeah. Uh - I'm gonna duck inside for a little bit, but I'll probably come back later. Have fun, okay?" He grins at Silarra, and then heads caverns-ward.
K'del's response to Saliqa is aborted unceremoniously as Tiriana's shoe comes down on his foot. He /is/ wearing boots, which spares him part of the impact-- but not enough that he doesn't let out a little yelp. "Don't be silly," he tells the Weyrwoman, regardless, putting Saliqa on hold for a moment more. "It'd be a nice gesture... just a few of them. /Good/ ones. Hey--" He's waving over a rider standing nearby. "Go tell them. A couple of good ones. With a guard. And-- yes, come on, Saliqa, say yes. Surely Lord Crom wouldn't mind /too/ much." Meanwhile, his rider-messenger is waved away, not waiting for Tiriana's reaction, and heads straight for the convoy of convicts to deliver the message.