Two goldriders and a greenrider walk into the Great Hall...
An especially loud clap of thunder fills the Great Hall with a sudden murmur and a few isolated choruses of surprised girlish shrieks. Several young men are lending a hand and rushing from window to window to pull closed the shutters against the rain that's blown in so suddenly, causing everyone who was recently outside and everyone who planned to be outside in the near future huddling into the Great Hall. Issa must have been one of the former set, because she stands nearer to the door, creating her own little puddle from the drops that fall from the bottom of her jacket, her hair. She stands with her arms crossed to one side of the entrance, idly watching the storm come down through the hold doors, which still stand open to admit drenched latecomers.
Oden appears to be one of the former, mentioned. With half a roll in one hand, and an unrolled scroll in the other, she was heading for the door when the loud clap of thunder and shrieking girls breaks her concentration. Looking up, she casts a curious look about the place. Issa is spotted, and given a once-over, and then a raised eyebrow. "You're all wet."
Anwyn is standing a few paces away from the door, dragging a shawl from her shoulders whilst water steadily drips from her long hair. She looks most unimpressed and seems almost frozen in place, as if silently demanding to know how the storm /dared/ to soak her. Her stern glare vanishes when a shiver races through her and she holds the shawl before her, wondering what to do with the saturated fabric.
Issa seems unphased by the wetness that Oden comments on, but when she does comment on it the greenrider turns to favor the girl with a friendly smile and a surveying gaze. "I am," she responds with a touch of humor in her voice. "And you're Telgar's goldrider," she adds with the same sort of bland observation, even mimicing Oden's lifted eyebrow. Her eyes drift forward again, taking note of the flash of lightning before her attention again swings away, to Anwyn this time. Standing nearby, she must have noticed the older goldrider before, but this is the first time she makes a comment to the stony woman. "It ruined?" she simply asks, nodding gently at the shawl as a gentler rumble of thunder sounds overhead.
Oden frowns, apparently not seeing the humor in being mimiced. "I am," she responds, nodding her head. She's distracted, then, by Issa's comment to Anwyn, and seems surprised to find the other goldrider there. "Oh," she says, smiling politely, "What a pitty, if it is ruined." She takes a bite of the roll she's got, if only to get it out of the way so that she can roll and stash her scroll.
Between the cold, wet and just how pathetic she must look peering at a soaked-through length of fabric, Anwyn is suddenly overcome by the urge to laugh at the ridiculous nature of it all. All that trickles through to her features, however, is a ghost of a smile and a quirk of her lips. Her head tilts, her arms fall - leaving the shawl to drag on the ground - and she glances between Issa and Oden. "I...would say so, yes. Still, worth trying to salvage it, maybe." She sighs. "I'd say I appreciate storms, but I could do without the rain."
"I'd think the farmers here would say the exact opposite," Issa speculates, looking around as if to pick those particular crafters out of the crowd, but she gives up before any of them can be identified. Her eyes drop to the shawl instead. "Well," she continues, "you could always commission one of your students to make a replacement." So she knows that Anwyn is an instructor at least. With a slight increase to her smile, she adds, "Or you could just wait for the next trader to come down the river, if you want a good one." The insult to the Caucus' weavers seems to be all in good fun, for she smiles at the only student in their little group, including Oden in the joke about her peers.
Oden shakes her head gently. "I don't like the rain, either." She takes a curious look outside, and shivers. "Cold and wet," she decides to herself. She titters girlishly at Issa's insult, more than it might have warented, and nods. "Could always send one of the dragonriders for it, too," she notes, glancing fleetingly towards Issa. "When they're not flying 'fall, of course. I'm sure they've got time." She's obviously not including herself in this offer.
"I think I'd rather..." Not /need/ something from one of her students? Associate with them too closely? Trouble anyone by asking for something? Anwyn doesn't know. "...Find a trader with reasonable prices," she finishes, the pause barely noticable. "Anwyn, Rosalith's," she states, more to be polite than to get introductions out of the way. She tries to drag strands of wet hair away from her face and over her shoulders, failing spectacularly. She's looking like less of an Instructor and less of a goldrider every second.
Issa catches Oden's glance and gives her a longer look in return, not bothering to respond to that little comment about riders' free time. Instead she moves on to Anwyn, watching the etiquette instructor's organizing adjustments with a slight slant to her smile. "I'd heard," Issa responds, instead of offering the appropriate response of names, hers and her dragon's. "How is Rosalith?" And, as almost a second thought, she adds, "And Veranth of course," freeing one of her hands to give Oden a slight wave to indicate that she should reply to the same question.
Oden's smile is sweet, but empty, and she doesn't seem to understand the insult she'd just given. "Oh, she's fine," replies the Telgari, cheerfully, "Enjoys the rain, actually. Never could understand that." She giggles again, and studies Anwyn for a moment, head tilted to the side. She's quizical looking, as if trying to place name and face. "Oh! You're the ettiquete teacher!" duh.
Anwyn doesn't seem disturbed by the lack of introductions - a good ten turns of fielding so called fellow 'diplomats' at Fort will do that to a person - and so bobs her head without even a trace of distaste or concern. She tilts her head to meet Oden's gaze properly and confirms, "Yes, I am. And you are Veranth's....?" An attempt to extract a name. There's as good a smile as anyone's going to get, trying to put the younger woman at ease, before Anwyn replies to Issa. This time the pause is noticable and there's a different, almost glazed, quality to her eyes. "She fares well in this environment, thank you. Better, even, than the weyr, maybe."
"That's good to hear," Issa comments sincerely before turning to Oden to await her answer to the instructor. As for herself, she doesn't offer an introduction just yet; she hasn't been prompted for hers, after all.
"Oden," replies the goldrider of that name, promptly and with a bright smile. "Of Telgar." Right. With another look towards Issa, Oden squares her shoulders and heads for the door, "And speaking of my 'mate, she's waiting for me now. Good day then!" With little more than a shudder at the rain, Oden rounds her back and makes her way out into the storm.
Anwyn nods. "Good day," she calls after Oden, grimacing at the rain that's flung back into the Hall with the opening of the door. Instinctive reaction, perhaps, considering her clothes couldn't exactly get any wetter. Trying to hold drenched skirts out of her path, she picks her way across the room to find a seat near where Issa stands. "I apologise, I don't believe we've met before now and I'm at a loss as to your name..." the Instructor admits.
And there's the prompt. Issa's smile slides up a bit higher at one corner before she responds to it. "We haven't really. Issa, Oshisyth's rider," she offers, wandering to put herself a step closer and at a better angle to Anwyn's chosen seat. The name isn't one mentioned at every turn by any means, but the goldrider may have heard it associated with one of her peers'; she's the greenrider attached to the math instructor, Reyce. "I've only been told your name. Because I am an insanely curious and nosy woman," she adds, her lips quirking along with the humor in her voice.
There's a smirk and a bark of laughter from Anwyn. She appreciates those who know themselves and aren't afraid to declare themselves as anything else. For all that she instructs her students to act, she'd take the truth any day. Sharding politics, social or otherwise. "Pleased to meet you, Issa," she says. "There isn't much to tell about me, I'm afraid. My stating that Kalinda is unfortunately misguided, for all my trying to assist her, and one look at Rosalith's pinions will reveal all." She tilts her head again. "As for yourself, I can say that I have met Reyce and discussed teaching with him, but little else."
Issa listens attentively, with the same interested expression she may instruct her students to assume on a first meeting, but with the addition of that curiously curled smile. "That's one conversation more than most," she tells the goldrider in regards to Reyce, as she casts a glance at the door, through which some people are beginning to brave the quieted storm. "Kalinda too soft for your tastes?" she asks, turning her gaze back to Anwyn again.
The smirk still half-formed on her features, Anwyn replies, "I did sense that Reyce was somewhat...reluctant to reveal any great hidden truths," she muses aloud. She maintains eye-contact with the greenrider, which is more honest attention that a great deal of people muster from her. Company or subject, she's rather focused. "Kalinda...is naive. She believes things will blow over and that everyone will always defer to Fort, simply because of the weyr's historical standing. I find her attitude an unwise one to have adopted." Her voice is low and she shakes her head, as if frustrated.
Issa nods faintly along with Anwyn's assertions, then replies with a soft, "Especially now." But after her gaze lingers on Anwyn a moment longer, she looks toward the door again and the patter of raindrops that can be seen beyond it. "I think it's letting up a bit," she comments, much lighter and more mundane than the subject they had been dipping into. "I think I'm going to try my luck with it. I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon," she assures the goldrider, and though she's already begun to meander in the direction of the entrance, she hangs back for Anwyn's response.
Anwyn agrees, her eyes intense. "Especially now," she echoes. She follows Issa's gaze and nods. "Good luck," she states, lips curving upwards. "Rather you than me. I think I'll hang back and see if it improves any more." She stands, to be polite. "Yes, hopefully we can catch up soon." The goldrider bobs her head and awaits Issa's dash into the rain with a hint of grim anticipation. Damned weather.
Oden appears to be one of the former, mentioned. With half a roll in one hand, and an unrolled scroll in the other, she was heading for the door when the loud clap of thunder and shrieking girls breaks her concentration. Looking up, she casts a curious look about the place. Issa is spotted, and given a once-over, and then a raised eyebrow. "You're all wet."
Anwyn is standing a few paces away from the door, dragging a shawl from her shoulders whilst water steadily drips from her long hair. She looks most unimpressed and seems almost frozen in place, as if silently demanding to know how the storm /dared/ to soak her. Her stern glare vanishes when a shiver races through her and she holds the shawl before her, wondering what to do with the saturated fabric.
Issa seems unphased by the wetness that Oden comments on, but when she does comment on it the greenrider turns to favor the girl with a friendly smile and a surveying gaze. "I am," she responds with a touch of humor in her voice. "And you're Telgar's goldrider," she adds with the same sort of bland observation, even mimicing Oden's lifted eyebrow. Her eyes drift forward again, taking note of the flash of lightning before her attention again swings away, to Anwyn this time. Standing nearby, she must have noticed the older goldrider before, but this is the first time she makes a comment to the stony woman. "It ruined?" she simply asks, nodding gently at the shawl as a gentler rumble of thunder sounds overhead.
Oden frowns, apparently not seeing the humor in being mimiced. "I am," she responds, nodding her head. She's distracted, then, by Issa's comment to Anwyn, and seems surprised to find the other goldrider there. "Oh," she says, smiling politely, "What a pitty, if it is ruined." She takes a bite of the roll she's got, if only to get it out of the way so that she can roll and stash her scroll.
Between the cold, wet and just how pathetic she must look peering at a soaked-through length of fabric, Anwyn is suddenly overcome by the urge to laugh at the ridiculous nature of it all. All that trickles through to her features, however, is a ghost of a smile and a quirk of her lips. Her head tilts, her arms fall - leaving the shawl to drag on the ground - and she glances between Issa and Oden. "I...would say so, yes. Still, worth trying to salvage it, maybe." She sighs. "I'd say I appreciate storms, but I could do without the rain."
"I'd think the farmers here would say the exact opposite," Issa speculates, looking around as if to pick those particular crafters out of the crowd, but she gives up before any of them can be identified. Her eyes drop to the shawl instead. "Well," she continues, "you could always commission one of your students to make a replacement." So she knows that Anwyn is an instructor at least. With a slight increase to her smile, she adds, "Or you could just wait for the next trader to come down the river, if you want a good one." The insult to the Caucus' weavers seems to be all in good fun, for she smiles at the only student in their little group, including Oden in the joke about her peers.
Oden shakes her head gently. "I don't like the rain, either." She takes a curious look outside, and shivers. "Cold and wet," she decides to herself. She titters girlishly at Issa's insult, more than it might have warented, and nods. "Could always send one of the dragonriders for it, too," she notes, glancing fleetingly towards Issa. "When they're not flying 'fall, of course. I'm sure they've got time." She's obviously not including herself in this offer.
"I think I'd rather..." Not /need/ something from one of her students? Associate with them too closely? Trouble anyone by asking for something? Anwyn doesn't know. "...Find a trader with reasonable prices," she finishes, the pause barely noticable. "Anwyn, Rosalith's," she states, more to be polite than to get introductions out of the way. She tries to drag strands of wet hair away from her face and over her shoulders, failing spectacularly. She's looking like less of an Instructor and less of a goldrider every second.
Issa catches Oden's glance and gives her a longer look in return, not bothering to respond to that little comment about riders' free time. Instead she moves on to Anwyn, watching the etiquette instructor's organizing adjustments with a slight slant to her smile. "I'd heard," Issa responds, instead of offering the appropriate response of names, hers and her dragon's. "How is Rosalith?" And, as almost a second thought, she adds, "And Veranth of course," freeing one of her hands to give Oden a slight wave to indicate that she should reply to the same question.
Oden's smile is sweet, but empty, and she doesn't seem to understand the insult she'd just given. "Oh, she's fine," replies the Telgari, cheerfully, "Enjoys the rain, actually. Never could understand that." She giggles again, and studies Anwyn for a moment, head tilted to the side. She's quizical looking, as if trying to place name and face. "Oh! You're the ettiquete teacher!" duh.
Anwyn doesn't seem disturbed by the lack of introductions - a good ten turns of fielding so called fellow 'diplomats' at Fort will do that to a person - and so bobs her head without even a trace of distaste or concern. She tilts her head to meet Oden's gaze properly and confirms, "Yes, I am. And you are Veranth's....?" An attempt to extract a name. There's as good a smile as anyone's going to get, trying to put the younger woman at ease, before Anwyn replies to Issa. This time the pause is noticable and there's a different, almost glazed, quality to her eyes. "She fares well in this environment, thank you. Better, even, than the weyr, maybe."
"That's good to hear," Issa comments sincerely before turning to Oden to await her answer to the instructor. As for herself, she doesn't offer an introduction just yet; she hasn't been prompted for hers, after all.
"Oden," replies the goldrider of that name, promptly and with a bright smile. "Of Telgar." Right. With another look towards Issa, Oden squares her shoulders and heads for the door, "And speaking of my 'mate, she's waiting for me now. Good day then!" With little more than a shudder at the rain, Oden rounds her back and makes her way out into the storm.
Anwyn nods. "Good day," she calls after Oden, grimacing at the rain that's flung back into the Hall with the opening of the door. Instinctive reaction, perhaps, considering her clothes couldn't exactly get any wetter. Trying to hold drenched skirts out of her path, she picks her way across the room to find a seat near where Issa stands. "I apologise, I don't believe we've met before now and I'm at a loss as to your name..." the Instructor admits.
And there's the prompt. Issa's smile slides up a bit higher at one corner before she responds to it. "We haven't really. Issa, Oshisyth's rider," she offers, wandering to put herself a step closer and at a better angle to Anwyn's chosen seat. The name isn't one mentioned at every turn by any means, but the goldrider may have heard it associated with one of her peers'; she's the greenrider attached to the math instructor, Reyce. "I've only been told your name. Because I am an insanely curious and nosy woman," she adds, her lips quirking along with the humor in her voice.
There's a smirk and a bark of laughter from Anwyn. She appreciates those who know themselves and aren't afraid to declare themselves as anything else. For all that she instructs her students to act, she'd take the truth any day. Sharding politics, social or otherwise. "Pleased to meet you, Issa," she says. "There isn't much to tell about me, I'm afraid. My stating that Kalinda is unfortunately misguided, for all my trying to assist her, and one look at Rosalith's pinions will reveal all." She tilts her head again. "As for yourself, I can say that I have met Reyce and discussed teaching with him, but little else."
Issa listens attentively, with the same interested expression she may instruct her students to assume on a first meeting, but with the addition of that curiously curled smile. "That's one conversation more than most," she tells the goldrider in regards to Reyce, as she casts a glance at the door, through which some people are beginning to brave the quieted storm. "Kalinda too soft for your tastes?" she asks, turning her gaze back to Anwyn again.
The smirk still half-formed on her features, Anwyn replies, "I did sense that Reyce was somewhat...reluctant to reveal any great hidden truths," she muses aloud. She maintains eye-contact with the greenrider, which is more honest attention that a great deal of people muster from her. Company or subject, she's rather focused. "Kalinda...is naive. She believes things will blow over and that everyone will always defer to Fort, simply because of the weyr's historical standing. I find her attitude an unwise one to have adopted." Her voice is low and she shakes her head, as if frustrated.
Issa nods faintly along with Anwyn's assertions, then replies with a soft, "Especially now." But after her gaze lingers on Anwyn a moment longer, she looks toward the door again and the patter of raindrops that can be seen beyond it. "I think it's letting up a bit," she comments, much lighter and more mundane than the subject they had been dipping into. "I think I'm going to try my luck with it. I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon," she assures the goldrider, and though she's already begun to meander in the direction of the entrance, she hangs back for Anwyn's response.
Anwyn agrees, her eyes intense. "Especially now," she echoes. She follows Issa's gaze and nods. "Good luck," she states, lips curving upwards. "Rather you than me. I think I'll hang back and see if it improves any more." She stands, to be polite. "Yes, hopefully we can catch up soon." The goldrider bobs her head and awaits Issa's dash into the rain with a hint of grim anticipation. Damned weather.