Log: Fort Weyrlings' Pig Roast
Who: P'draig, Nerine, Paige, Berit, Sunniva, T'mic, Tadi, R'uen, Gitana, D'kai
When: Late afternoon, 7/27/17 (Date shift)
Where: Lake Shore, Fort Weyr
What: P'draig's traditional cookout for the Weyrlings. Fun times.
Please note that while this was a celebration for the weyrlings, this was not graduation. Paddy has just always had a cookout for the Weyrlings towards the end of Weyrlinghood or at the end of Weyrlinghood as a special parting gesture.
Paddy's Party Getup
Dark hair curls, finger-length, atop this man's head above a face composed of strong features. Evenly spaced eyes the color of water on a cloudy day are overarched with thick, dark brows and set above a straight nose, generous mouth and strong jaw. Tall at just an inch or two above six feet, his build shows proof of strength through shoulders and arms. Telltale scars that look like old burns and cuts on his hands and arms speak of time formerly spent working in a kitchen. Though long of limb, his physique is well-balanced, neither wiry or muscle-bound. He appears to be in his late twenties or early thirties.
A seagreen shirt of silky sisal, light and airy, well cut with embroidery on the placket, cuffs and up each sleeve, tucked into finely tailored navy blue pants make up his fancier wear. Ankle boots of the same navy shade are light enough for dancing, but warm enough for protection against the cold of Between.
Late afternoon sunlight, rich and golden casts a warm glow across the lake as the party for the weyrlings starts to kick into gear. P'draig's down by the fire, poking a long-handled fork into the side of a pig, juices running down its side. Dishes of all sorts line a long trestle table, everything's being served buffet style tonight and the scents of good things to eat permeates the air. Tiki torches have been thrust into the sand and soil around the lake, lending a cheery atmosphere and the Weyrlingmaster laughs as Ph'lyp scurries up with round eyes to ask if the pig is done yet. "Soon, Ph'lyp, soon!" he promises.
Nerine's Party Getup
Intense silver blue eyes rimmed in a deep navy hue are set in a heart shaped face. Her features are soft, feminine, from the smallish curve of her nose to the full soft curve of her lips. Dark brown locks frame her face, Spiky with a subtle wave her hair hangs just below her chin. Her skin is a creamy porcelain tone, and just as soft as it looks despite the few scars and calluses. Her body balances delicately between fuller feminine curves and the lean muscled form of a rider. Her 5'4" form is sound.
Nerine is 18 turns, 3 months, 22 days old.
Soft shimmery silver blue frames her neckline, Short sleeves exposing the toned muscle of a rider. A navy ribbon creates the empire waist for this gown which ends just above the knee in a broad ribbon of navy trim.
Paige, attired in a skirt and sleeveless, button-up shirt, is at once both delighted and anxious as she and Tiasheth arrive for the party; both marvel over the impressive looking spread, the torches, the cheery ambiance. To pig and fire, the greenrider eventually wanders, offering the cook a small smile and a, "Smells good, P'draig, sir." There's even a salute, out of pure habit. "Thank ya fer doin' all this fer us. S'awful nice." G'ben's come up behind her ostensibly to offer the same, but his attention, too, is captured by the roasting pig. "That almost done, sir?" he has to ask, eager. "It'll go awfully well with some of the dishes you've got laid out there, I bet."
P'draig gives the pig another poke and grins over at the hungry Weyrlings. Paige's salute gets one in return from him, albeit lazy and only two-fingered. "Paige, G'ben, good to see you. And don't you both look nice tonight?" he compliments. "Just a few more minutes and we'll swing it off a pit, get to carving. Go on and load up your plate with sides already, won't be long," he encourages.
A figure clad in silvery blue makes her way down to the gathering by the lake side. . . wait a second? Is that Nerine in a . . .Dress? The Green Rider seems a little sheepish as she nears the roasting pit. Tugging a bit at the hem which falls just at her knees. "Hello P'draig, wow, that looks delicious." Catching sight of the culprit of her dress Nerine huffs and makes her way to Paige's side. "Paige I just feel ridiculous in this thing, can I /please/ go back and change?"
Paige murmurs something along the lines of a thanks, moving to fix herself a plate at the long table as suggested. Nerine's arrival deters her, however, and the girl just beams as her friend approaches. "Aw, but y'look so nice, " she protests, smiling. "S'becomin' t'ya, I knew 'twould be! Dun - Dun Zerith like it?" A hand unconsciously brushes down her own skirt, smoothing an invisible crease in her sleeveless shirt. "Tia says y'look nice, too, " she offers.
.
P'draig stands back a little from the pig, runs his wrist across his forehead and smiles as Nerine approaches as well. "Don't change, you look nice, Nerine," the weyrlingmaster says sincerely. "Besides when the harpers get going, then you'll have a skirt to twirl." A few moments later he gets some help from one of the kitchen staff who're helping with the cooking and they heft the piggy up off th fire, carry it still on the spit over to a second table spread with a large piece of oiled paper. Sharp knives come out. Carving time. P'draig and two other cooks get to work slicing out sections of perfectly cooked meat quickly, lining it up on platters. "Here we go folks!" the Weyrlingmaster calls out.
Dragon> To Jekzith, Aath reaches out, closer than he might expect, spangled and glistening to a high sheen. << Where are you, Jekzith? >>
Dragon> To Aath, Jekzith showers Aath with bright firework sparks. << Down by the lake! They are having good things to eat and there will be music and dancing P'draig says. >>
A green well-familiar to the weyrlings settles on the lake shore, preening and arching at the gathered dragons and keeping an interested eye on the festivities. She scarcely pauses to let her rider dismount; the man gives her a laughing pat before jogging over to the party, coming up behind the carvers with their wickedly sharp knives. "We've got great timing," he says to the Weyrlingmaster, grinning across the table at the eager faces lined up to eat. "What can I do to help?"
Paige eventually moves to claim some meat for her plate, digging in with relish and happily greeting familiar faces as they show up. She's content to eat, converse and eventually dance; after all, skirts are indeed for twirling.
P'draig tilts a look over his shoulder at T'mic and grins, not missing a beat with the carving. "Go get two plates and load up. Save me some stuff, because I'm going to be carving for a little while," the Weyrlingmaster tells the Istan greenrider, and leans back far enough to drop a kiss onto his cheek before returning his attention to the partly carved pork roast. More and more weyrlings, residents and riders make their way down to the shore and the harpers start tuning up off a little ways beyond the torchlight as the sun drops lower aiming for sunset, casting their light into sharper relief.
Nerine absently smoothes the fabric of the dress, moving to pile food on her plate. She smiles as she notes T'mic and P'draig's exchange. "Thanks P'draig this all is fantastic." She grabs an empty seat at one of the tables.
R'uen comes lake-wards, hands in his pockets and his stride lazy and long. As he nears though, he can't help but breathe in deeply and close his eyes just a bit for the fantastic aromas of food in the air. A glance around, however, has him in a sea of mostly unfamiliar faces and so instead of diving right in, he lingers around the edges for a little while longer.
What a pretty day and what an elaborately-dressed pair of sisters. Berit and Sunniva are walking arm-in-arm, both wearing dresses that constitute as more formal than is needed for the cookout. They appear unfazed by their appearances, and lean their heads together as they talk in low voices in the typical way that young girls do. "I think your dress is horribly adorable, Sunni, so stop fussing. Truly." Berit laughs and squeezes the other girl's hand, but slips her arm free as they get closer to the crowd. "I think we arrived a little late. I hope no one minds," she says, looking around, perhaps searching for familiar faces.
Where there is food there should be music and where there is music? Why there is dance of course. What better way to enjoy a night away from the caravan than where there is a large gathering of people near food? The lithe dancer steps eagerly, pausing near a figure at the edge of the group. "If you don't mind me saying so you seem a bit nervous?" She grins flashing the slight space between those teeth.
"Go get him some food," the Istan grouses good-naturedly, offering Nerine a smile as she passes through. "You'd think we were weyrmated, or something." But off he goes after his kiss, swinging wide to the end of the line. ...Where there's a R'uen hanging about looking uncertain. T'mic gives the bronzerider a wide grin and jabs his hand at the man, saying, "T'mic, Aath's, Ista. You've got a face I'm not familiar with. What do they call you?"
"You do not think it is too-" a hand flaps, helplessly, "-inappropriate," Sunniva settles on with a fretful curve of her mouth, absently reaching over to fuss at Berit's hair. She's already fussed at her own plenty for now, even though it's simply up in an elegant coil of a bun. A glance is likewise given to the crowd and Sunni soon finds her lower lip caught in her teeth. Thoughtful. "Oh, no. It is perfectly acceptable to show up a little later; far better than being too early," is offered reassuringly to her sister.
Not a girl for pretty dresses and parties, dancing, or any of that. But rather, sitting by the food and happily sampling everything. Tadi moves easily to the tables, slipping past any that just linger without movement. A plate is taken and she takes some samples quickly before moving off to the side to watch the dancers. A curious look and a wrinkle of her nose before the dressy Beri and Sunniva are eyed. A glance to her own garb, before she shrugs it off, to watch the dancers again.
"No such thing as late for a pig roast, unless there's no pig left!" P'draig calls over to the sisters from his spot where he's carving, knife flashing a little in the ruddy light. Ph'lyp's made it up to the head of the line and is happily waiting as slices of the meat are laden onto his plate by one of the cooks. "Sir, this just smells too good," he says with a little sigh and then trots off with G'ben and D'bor to perch on a log and dig in.
Nerine smiles, "You'd think, but hey your both growing men, you need your sustenance." She teases light heartedly. A glance goes to the two unfamiliar faces at the edge of the group, and a stifled laugh at the familiar worried chitter of Berit's sister escapes. "How fares Ista T'mic?" She returns herself to the conversation, only occasionally scanning for someone who is apparently not yet arrived.
R'uen's brows go up when a dancer draws near, but he flashes a notably less gapped smile back at her. "Don't mind you saying it but I'm not feeling particularly nervous," he tells her, taking a hand from his pocket to scruff at the back of his neck anyway. And then there's T'mic in front of him, offering a hand. And so he'll get one in return. "R'uen. Zaiventh's. Fort. All the way from Ista for a tropical dinner? I'd think you'd have plenty of these on the island." His grin might not be so wide at the greenriders, but it's just as affable.
T'mic flashes the dancer an appreciative once-over. "Who could be nervous with you around?" Then he's exchanging grips with the not-nervous R'uen. "All the way from Ista for him," he corrects, jerking his head toward the table with the pig on it. Or maybe one of the people behind it. Or getting served from it. "And we do - we going to see you at one of them? --Evening, Nerine," he adds. "Just fine, thanks. You and Zerith doing well?"
A happy grin is beamed at the Weyrlingmaster, before Berit turns back to her sister. "Inappropriate? Why ever would it be inappropriate? I think I have never dressed down for a party in my life, and I do not believe you have either. Do you want to start *now*?" Aghast, and then the planes of the young goldrider's face smooth out as she gives Sunniva a puckish smile. "I think we should have spent a little more time dressing our hair, then. I do not believe it is considerable enough time to be considered formally late, but too late to be considered on time." If she caught that one.
Gitana grins, "then forgive my misinterpretation of hanging on the edges of a perfectly good party." She offers a graceful performers bow and a grin. "I am Gitana, Of the Kereiv Dance Troupe, at your service R'uen." She grins, giving the Istan a glance in kind. "The same could be said of you two fine gentlemen, I sincerely hope I am not intruding on this lovely event."
"I scarcely know what is appropriate to these sorts of affairs," Sunniva exclaims, glancing down at the ground. Sand. It makes her shudder. "Perhaps I ought to have gone with something floral." Faranth knows /why/, but that's Sunni. Her nose wrinkles delicately at Berit and she sniffs gently. "Well, perhaps we ought to have, but we are here now, so I suppose it will have to do. And we are /fashionably/ late, dearest sister, if that is more suitable." P'draig is waved to, as are a few other familiar faces, each wave paired with a polite enough smile.
Someone, it seems, has been through the Fort stores, and returned with clothes to prove it. D'kai's looking particularly pleased with himself as he strolls towards the party, hands in his pockets and a grin on his lips. For a moment, he lingers on the fringes of all the excited, happy, pretty, people, though he's soon drawn in by the tantalizing smell of that roasting pork. Little Ph'lyp is clapped on the back as the bronzerider nears the roast, the shorter boy stumbling just a bit while loading up his plate, and Deke grins down at the greenrider, reaching above and around him to snag a plate and work on filling up /that/.
R'uen looks past T'mic toward the table with the pig and lifts a brow, but barely starting to chuckle. It is interrupted though, by Gitana's introduction. He gives her a deep nod, an easy grin. "An honor, I'm sure. So it's your job to lure people out into a dance, is it?"
Tadi watches as she eats, those who chatter and dance. Stuffing her face, almost, without restraint to sample what she has gathered. Occasionally, she moves food aside with disagreement to the taste. Idly, her gaze travels to the cooking pig and then to T'mic. Chuckling, she trails to get in line for the pig while still nibbling on the bits on her plate. D'kai is eyed silently as he fills his plate, looking to see if he nabs something she has missed in her rush to fill the plate.
Nerine laughs brightly, and blinks a little confused at the conversing between Sunniva and Berit, but she nods back to T'mic. "Zerith does well, she's probably out a ways from the shallows. She has her own ideas of what a good time is." Nerine spots D'kai and waves offering a whistle of approval. "You do look sharp D'kai. That cousin of yours around too?"
"I'm sure you've never intruded anywhere in your life," T'mic puts in to Gitana with a sidelong grin sent to the bronzerider. "--Hey, there's Deke. Enjoy your dancing," that to Gitana, "I expect to see you at Ista," R'uen, and to Nerine as he passes, "Most of 'em do." Then he's jogging through the crowd - slowly, but a jog all the same - to fall into line behind the lanky D'kai. "Hey, you. How's Mikhuth? That a new knot I see there, bronze /rider/?"
"Stop being such a sourpuss, Sunni. There is not much more to this than, say, a summer's festival or a turnday party. What would you wear to those?" And on the end of her words, Berit looks down at her own knee-length dress, then back up at her sister. "I think you worry overmuch. You should enjoy yourself. There is dancing.." She turns that way, watching in an idle way. "There is food." But they both know their appetite are lacking in that quarter. "Who knows, you might have the best night of your life, Sunni," she says, hands on her hips. "Might make some new friends."
P'draig works steadily. The line is long and getting longer. The cooks load up plates as people pass and as he carves, P'draig is actually saving little bits aside here and there, apparently for himself and the staff. "Here you go," he says to Neala as she steps up with Saryan. "You two fill up your mouths and try to be nice now, you hear?" he tells both 'mean girls' with a wink and then serves up the next customer. He pauses now and then to lift a hand to wave back to those greeting him until they're basically down to the bones on much of the pig and the platters are set out for people to help themselves at the end of the buffet. Those bits Paddy was saving are shared out and he moves to re-join T'mic, eyes bright. The sun drifts even lower, the shadows deepening while the torches brighten and the music kicks up in earnest as more dances swing out onto the 'floor'.
Hmf. Sunniva's brows lift briefly as she pulls back a step to better appraise her sister. "Well, I did have that lovely-" wait, no, that one didn't get sent. She trails off, glancing away. "Dancing on the sand is an invitation for absolute disaster," is her conclusion, then her gaze goes to the food, then to Berit with a mildly amused 'you have to be joking' look. But, in that glance, she catches sight of a familiar face and she can't restrain the urge to wave a bit and call out, "Oh, there is D'kai!" in part to inform her sister and to try to get the young man's attention. Make new friends? Have the best night of her life? Those go completely in one ear and out the other ... or over her head. Either way.
Grin, grin. D'kai's got a great big beaming smile to encompass the whole party, and he swivels his head this way and that to see what familiar faces he might spy in the crowd. Nerine - P'draig - Berit - Sunni! They all recieve a wave, a nod, and the last a jaunty tip of his hat and a wink. Deke's feeling fiiiine. He's quick to snag choice pieces from that roast, but the voice behind him has him twisting his head and directing that cheery smile T'mic-wards. "Hey, yourself! Mickey's great, we're both great - we're real riders now, Mic!" Wooo! And he can't resist turning, just a little bit, to show off that flashy new knot.
Gitana grins wildly. "Amongst other things I imagine, though I've yet to find a partner who could keep up." There is another smile and dark eyes survey the scene She gives a smile to T'mic, "Perhaps not, but it does no good to be rude to my gracious hosts." Hearing the harpers strike up a wilder tune a grin slips over her features. "Would either of you gentlemen care to dance?" She does not wait for a reply but moves immediately to the dance floor, the bangles tinkling as she moves to the dance floor. She catches a brief glance at Sunniva and laughs. "Dancing is fun no matter where you do it dear heart, t'would do you good to try." She offers the girl a wink, waving to D'kai as she is lost to the rhythm of the dance out on the floor.
The Istan says, "I know. I see," and reaches up to tap Deke's shoulder. "Congratulations." As the brownrider comes to join them T'mic tosses a grin over his shoulder and gathers up a plate to hand back. He had that ready, really. "--Oh hey, Paddy - didja see D'kai's shiny new knot, there? What wing's lucky enough to get you?" The last to the bronzerider, of course.
Laughter comes easily to Berit at her sister's revelations; these are the things she has missed. "Whatever is wrong with dancing on the sand? Do you not enjoy the feel of sand in between your toes?" But her lips twitch, for she knows of the truth of that, and a mirthful look is leveled on her sister. She opens her mouth, and has to close it as her sister calls out, a bit shockingly, to D'kai. Blink, stare. "Do you.. do you *know* him?" Her dark brows lift as she turns fully to face Sunniva, hands still planted on her hips. "D'kai?"
P'draig shares out those choice tidbits he saved. Some for his plate, some for Mic's and a bit of crispy-something-yummy for D'kai. The Weyrlingmaster squints at the indicated knot and beams. "Congratulations, D'kai." And he nudges T'mic lightly with his shoulder. "One more down," he says audibly but in a nudge-nudge-wink-wink way. "Won't be much longer now 'til you're all tapped and free of me," he says with a merry laugh.
R'uen is a touch surprised to be expected anywhere, but gives an agreeable sort of nod to the Istan. However, then the dancer is making her fine offer. The bronzeriders gives one more longing look at the roast pig sitting just over there, smelling so delicious, but he quirks a grin for Gitana. "Sure, let's have a dance. But just a short one. Else I might pass out from hunger and you'll have to catch me. Might get awkward," he teases and follows her to the dancefloor, offering his hand.
Nerine giggles, "Who's free of whom I wonder?" She gives a suspicious look to P'draig. "We all know you're the one itching to be rid of us." A good natured smile crosses her lips as she stands to sit on the lake shore.
Shudder. This time, it's far more apparent, with Sunniva hugging herself. Gitana's words earn a sharp shake of her head, disgust briefly touching her features at the very idea. Her attention quickly returns to her sister, green eyes widening. "Oh, /no/. Berit, you know better," she chides in her typically ineffectual way, hands on her hips in a reflection of her sister's posture and chin lifting a bit. That posture abruptly shifts, with her straightening, hands folding before her and mouth twitching just a little before she answers with, "Yes, I know him. We danced at the Gather -- I looked for you, but-" well, the Gather was very large and she was just one person. Her forehead creases. "Why?"
Tadi snags her piece of pig, settling herself down in the sand near the dancers to watch, curiously. The movement of the feet, the swaying, the sound of the music. Rather than, attempt to join in or practice, she simply sample the pig curiously as she listens to the conversations amusing herself with the chatter rather than joining in quite yet.
Gitana accepts R'uen's hand with a grin. "Of course it would be terrible of me to monopolize your company to the point of starvation." The steps are easy but there's a sort of leap to the way she moves, the coins at her belt singing with each step. "See now, this I think is much nicer than watching wouldn't you agree?" she lets a merry laugh loose. "Better than just standing and watching any day."
Nerine slips away from the group, perhaps the noise is too much for her but then again maybe she is off to meet someone.
Sister looks at sister, lips curling upwards in a wayward smile. "I *do* know better, just you see." Berit imitates this time, linking fingers in front of her dress. "I think you should give it a try, in the least. There is no harm is trying something new. Who knows, you might have a change of heart." Yeah right, but she pastes on a sunny show for smile that abruptly dwindles at the truth just revealed. "Danced.. with.. D'kai?" Her chin tucks in, her green eyes serious. "Do you realize who and what he is, Sunni?" Only a subtle narrowing of her eyes is noticeable. "He is not the sort *you* should be dancing with." That said, she turns and starts searching.. presumably for D'kai, her mouth pursed with displeasure.
T'mic asks quite reasonably as he takes a bit of crisp skin, "How many left now?" and nudges Paddy right back, using his elbow to best advantage. "Who's been snapped up? And what does Mikhuth," no nicknames for him, it'd seem, "Think of being a real rider? Or hasn't it sunk in to him yet? --Here," he adds, nodding to a quieter section of crowd away from the tables, "Should be able to talk there, yeah?"
Oooh, crispy-something-yummy. D'kai's /favourite/. Just like - ooh, what's /this/? He's still moving on down the line, filling that plate, though he does pause in stuffing his face to reply, "Flint! Flint. T'rev got me. Thank you, sir." All spoken around some of that pork, of course. So maybe it was 'Sht'hrev' that tapped him, who knows? The bronzerider pauses a beat, shuffles all his cutlery and plate to one hand, and raises his arm to wiggle his fingers to greeting to the dancing Gitana. Er, Gitana and R'uen. The salutation's passed on, regardless, whether or not she sees it, and he continues, finally reaching the end of all that food and appearing quite forlorn for a beat or two. Berit's displeasure is thus far evaded, and he's still cheerily replying to T'mic, "Oh, he's just so happy. The both of us! We've freedom, finally."
"There is plenty of harm in it," is Sunniva's crisp reply. "I can hardly afford to lose a good dress due to slipping and falling or something equally terrible." One hand settles at her hip, the other free to flutter dismissively in the air at the latter topic. "Well, yes." Her eyes narrow, mouth pulled briefly to one side. "And I do know who and what he is, sister dear; I am not blind or /stupid/." Not that the implication was made directly, but such is her perception. That brief flare of annoyance is quickly smoothed over, much as her skirts are smoothed down with both hands. Oh. But then Berit is move and the elder sister hastens to follow, skirts hitched up just a little to avoid the sand that will inevitably creep into her sandals. "No, no, /no/," is hissed after Berit; Sunni can all but see where this is going and it will likely end in tears. Oh dear.
R'uen is not nearly so flamboyant on the floor as his dancing partner, but he keeps up well enough without embarassing himself too badly. "I can't say I've had a dance very recently. I never did get to take my turn on the floor at Benden. Were you there for the midsummer gather?" he asks, making light conversation as they move around the dance floor.
P'draig finishes getting his plate put together and nods, giving Mic the rundown as the amble for that spot.
Gitana shakes her head smiling at her partner. "Unfortunately that was one we missed, and mama being so fond of Benden Red too" She laughs, "We just made it to fort a few Seven days ago, but I admit I don't remember you from last year's visit."
"Well that's because I wasn't here then," R'uen explains, lifting Gitana's hand so that she might take a twirl beneath it. "I just moved here. Well, not -just- anymore, but recently enough."
Oh no, not that. Berit turns from her searching to mildly stare at her sister. "I hardly think you understand the circumstances and the consequences. Hardly." She fluffs out the gossamer folds of her dress and, with purposeful strides, angles herself in the general direction of D'kai. Assuming her sister will follow, she speaks as she walks, "No, what? No, he has no alternative plans than being your 'friend'? No, he has not tried anything other than dancing or thought about it? No, he will not influence you horribly? I think you can save your breath for later, Sunni." It is an unusual bout of putting her foot down for the goldrider, but she looks determined as she works her way through the crowd, only losing sight of her target a few times.
Mic continues cheerfully enough, "I know I was happy to be tapped, finally, even if my Weyrlingmaster ended up being my Wingleader." He's gotten over his problems with Weyrlingmasters now, it would seem, from the arm he has about P'draig's waist. Of course, now he can't eat anything from the plate he's holding in the other, but such are the difficulties of life. "That's a problem you don't have at Fort, anyway. --And T'rev, huh? I know him. Good guy. I think you two'll like flying with him. S'from Telgar, you know. Originally."
Gitana smiles, "that explains it then I guess," Her eyes drift only momentarily to Sunniva and the other woman but they are dismissed with a shake of her head. "How are you finding fort so far? Is it to your liking or do you miss home?" she asks her full attention on her partner.
D'kai's still oh-so-blissfully unaware of Berit's impending wrath, and the infrequent glance he does spare over his shoulder tends towards Sunniva and less on her storming younger sister. "Oh, I'm happy, I'm happy!" As if T'mic couldn't tell. "Oh, you know him? Yeah he seems - great. Real nice. Still kind of trying to - you know, merge those Telgar and Fort riders together." The bronzerider nods, as though T'rev's business, by association, becomes his business. And he just /smiles/, dreamily. And eats.
The elder is, of course, obediently following the younger, her tone mild and plaintive as compared to the brief outburst. Of course, it is unusual enough that she's actually pursuing this matter, rather than simply let it go. "Berit, /please/. He is an absolute dear and has not done anything untoward in the slightest. Honestly, he has been a great help for me here, so please do not do anything rash," perhaps she might be better served saving her breath. It doesn't seem to matter that much to Sunniva, who is now trying to hasten her steps to attempt a subtle interception. Unfortunately, she's too focused on Berit to try to warn D'kai in some fashion. Alas.
"Both," R'uen says to Gitana with a touch of emphasis. "I do fine Fort to my liking. And I miss home. Miss a lot of things. How about you? Is there anywhere you call home? More than other places?"
Steady, if by slow degrees, Berit had been gaining ground towards her fellow, former weyrling, until an unlikely obstacle steps into her path. She finds herself staring at the large form of Cirse, the Weyrwoman, of all people, and she is momentarily taken aback, her attention diverted. Words are exchanged in low voices - maybe a matter of importance - before the taller woman turns to leave and the younger goldrider follows, shrugging her shoulders helplessly as she passes by Sunniva. D'kai is saved for now, and her sister is saved further embarrassment, as Cirse and Berit walk away from the party, one tagging behind the wiser.
Gitana nods and laughs. "Home is a bit of a foriegn concept to me, at least the way other people perceive it." The music slows and she glances to the tables. "I should feed you after stealing you away for a dance." She notes before continuing. "Home's been wherever we make camp, Its my brother and sisters and dancing and music and the quiet of the night, and the sound of the flute and fiddle. " She laughs a little "Its a bit silly really," She smiles.
"I kinda gathered," the Istan drawls up at D'kai, his grin never faltering. "So - is he giving you tomorrow off t' recover from the party? --Is he here?" The thought strikes him and he goes up on his toes, then grins at himself and hip-bumps P'draig. "Oi. You two trees. D'you see T'rev anywhere? No point in me straining when I've got -you- two here."
Tadi finishes off that plate of hers, watching the pairs dancing with curious young eyes. Or rather, the feet are watched with a studious glance and a furrow of her brows. Then, she looks up at the dancers themselves, studying the whole picture. Blatantly, she turns her head to look directly at the riders who are chatting still. Eyeing them all carefully.
P'draig nibbles on bits from his plate, listening to the exchanges between D'kai and T'mic. "Hm? No," the Weyrlingmaster leans upward shakes his head. "Nope, but there's a lot of people here." Paddy reaches up to tousle at Mic's hair then moves aside a little to sit, get to work on his food in earnest. Out of the corner of his eye he catches sight of Tadi. "Good dancers, aren't they?" he directs towards the girl.
"Actually," and D'kai suddenly turns a bit round-eyed at he thought, "Last we talked he said drills're an hour before dawn tomorrow. So I shouldn't, ah, celebrate too hard." Sigh. And Deke's miraculously saved, by Cirse of them all, though unwitting of that whole exchange. He looks over, just in time to watch Berit tailing away behind the Headwoman - and Sunniva, alone! Well, that won't do. He motions to her, happily, but not before he obligingly does a quick once-over of the crowds. "Nope," he affirms, shortly after P'draig, "Don't see him." And Tadi gets an ingenuous smile and wiggling little wave.
R'uen frowns faintly, a thoughtful sort of expression. "No, I understand that. A bit at least. I've been back home and it's the people there that I miss more than anything. And they aren't there anymore. So, when I say miss home, it's really more of missing... the past. More than the place." But oh, he won't be disuaded from food; a quick step out of the dance and he's gesturing a hand for Gitana to lead the way toward the tables.
Berit's distraction and departure is observed with a twinge of concern on her features; concern that rapidly dissolves once the younger has turned to move away. Relieved, Sunniva's shoulders slump and she lifts her hands to rub at her face. Food is glanced at in passing, but that is passed over with scarcely more than that fleeting look. Ah, but there are the danc- wait. D'kai's motioning snags just at the periphery of her vision, but it's incentive enough for her to hasten that way. "Oh! D'kai, how have you been?" is queried, though she's quick to add a warm, "And hello, sirs!" to both P'draig and T'mic, despite the former evidently moving away.
Gitana gives a suprised smile at the response. "I imagine you do then," she tilts her head studying a moment, smiling before leading back to the tables. She gives a wave to D'kai but he's off. She grabs a plate handing one to the rider and keeping on for herself. "I imagine after they all learn what a charming dancer you are this place won't take too long to feel like home."
T'mic winces for D'kai's impending pain. "Shells! You want me to go talk to him?" He sends P'draig off with a beam but doesn't follow the brownrider immediately; instead he uses the unexpected freeing of his hand to start picking at his delayed meal and keep talking to D'kai. Just then Sunniva joins them, and Mic quickly licks off his fingers and shifts his plate to the other hand before offering the clean one to her. "Hello yourself, miss. T'mic, Aath's. That's a lovely dress you're wearing."
Tadi quirks a brow, letting out a soft grunt of agreement before speaking. "'Suppose. Looks hard, though." A point at their feet, "wouldn't know how to get my feet to follow along.." Slowly, she grins before shrugging. "Must take a lot of practice not to fall or step on the other person.. Or they're just lucky?" D'kai gets a look as he smiles, but, slowly her lips curl almost mischeviously and her hand lifts to give a wave of her own. Sunniva is given a curious look as she approaches D'kai, then slowly she draws her attention back to the dancers.
"Well that's mighty kind of you," R'uen chuckles for Gitana, taking a plate positively heaping with ham. "Can you even believe how good this smells? Do you move around from festivity to festivity mostly? You probably get a good deal of these feasts, huh?"
There is a small laugh as the woman catches the girl's observations, turning from her plate long enough to address her she grins. "It does take practice, but that is nothing compared to the dancing in the caravan." That wild smile is turned to her dance partner for the evening. "Sometimes, but actually it has been a little rare to see feasts like this. With that rouge fall a while back a lot of folks were in pretty bad shape." She glances down to the plate piling it with delicious tidbits. "I'm also used to quite a bit more work before I earn my feed." She laughs.
"Awh," Shaking his head slightly, Deke lifts a hand to touch lightly at his hat, follow the brim with his fingers, and then lifting the hat entirely as Sunniva nears, though his words are still directed to T'mic, "Nah, it's fine. That's what I get for being tapped, eh? And no one needs to see me celebrate quite that hard, anyway." He chuckles, ducking his head. Tadi's return greeting is almost missed for that dip, but he quickly modifies that to a nod and pleasant smile. "D'kai, bronze Mikhuth's." And then, to Sunniva, "Good! As always. And you?" Quickly enough, D'kai's attention returns to his plate: and though he remains part of the conversation, he's quiet enough, simply enjoying the evening. Once he hour turns late he excuses himself - drills tomorrow!
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, T'mic," Sunniva replies dutifully with a smile, taking the offered hand with one of hers. A brief glance down to her dress is given, her smile uncertain for a moment before it settles a bit more comfortably. "Do you really think so? Thank you!" is stated with a bit of a curtsey. "Berit suggested it, but I was not so sure it would be suitable for something like this." D'kai is spoken briefly with before he excuses himself, her disappointment manifesting only in a funny downward quirk at the corner of her mouth.
"Some dances are hard and some are easier," P'draig tells Tadi with a grin. "It's just a question of practice, learning to do it right," he pops another bite of roasted pork into his mouth and chews carefully. He looks over as D'kai heads off, one hand lifting in parting greeting and he watches T'mic for a moment, amusement quirking the corners of his mouth upward, then he looks back towards Tadi. "Could teach you in a little bit once I finish eating?"
"A beautiful dress for a beautiful lady," the greenrider assures Sunniva, nodding D'kai a farewell as the taller man moves off. "So you know Berit?" He glances back at P'draig but doesn't catch the other man's eyes; still, he nods invitingly toward where the brownrider sits. "Want to go sit? Or are you in a dancing mood?"
"Well, I won't tell anyone that you've been shirking your duties," R'uen conspires with the tip of his head. "And I'd expect there aren't many people who see a feast like this one too often. Except maybe folks at Ista or Boll. Do you get down to Boll much?"
Tadi blinks a Gitana, nodding her head slowly as her brows furrow again in slight concentration. "I see.." Not one for patience in practicing, she almost shrugs it off before P'draig is offering to show her. A glance towards her own feet before she looks to the rider with a laugh. "I'm sure my feet will stumble a lot. If you'd put up with that, I'd like to learn. I don't think I'll be good."
There's just a faint blush at the compliment, with Sunni dipping her head in wordless appreciation. She fusses a bit at a section of lace, glancing sidelong to T'mic with, "Well, yes. She is my sister," though one wouldn't know it by their respective temperaments. The offers given are quickly considered, "I- I could not. Dance, that is. The sand," should suffice as explanation enough, as far as she's concerned. Her nose wrinkles, daintily. "Sitting would be lovely, though"
"I'm the Weyrlingmaster," P'draig notes with a chuckle. "For several months out of every turn, I have baby dragons doing their business on my feet. I think I can handle your toes." He winks over at the girl and works on through the rest of the food on his plate, then pushes it aside, wipes his mouth with his handkerchief and sticks it back in his pocket, rises to bow and offer his hand with overt formality. "P'draig, brown Jekzith's at your service for a dance." The faster tune that's been playing is winding up and something more mid-tempo is starting up, gitars and pipes mostly.
T'mic's eyebrows go up, and he turns toward the seats rather than the dance floor, offering his free arm to Sunniva. "I didn't know she had a sister. You're... the younger? And you don't have to worry about the sand," he adds with a charming smile sidelong. "I wouldn't let you fall. But if you'd rather sit for a while, that's fine with me too. We can talk for a bit before your older sister gets back."
Gitana smiles, "That's probably true, I've been to Boll a few times, but I've never seen Ista, for that I think you have to sail or ride dragon back and I've never done either." Her mouth quirks into a half smile, listening perhaps absently to the conversations around her. "My siblings love hunting on the beaches of Boll for fire lizard clutches, me I prefer runners, but then I may be biased." She smiles, and suppresses a giggle at Sunniva's explanation. "So where did you hail from before Fort, and before you became a rider?"
Tadi grins, nodding her head, "well, I imagine it'd hurt more for them to step on your feet than my harmless non-taloned ones." Laughing, she glances up as he bows in his greeting. Scrambling up from the sand, she does an awkward curtsey-bow. "Tadi is my name, sir."
"Younger?" It takes a beat for that to parse and then Sunniva's shaking her head, a few coils of hair being displaced. "Oh, no. I am the older of the two of us," she explains, casting a quick, almost coy kind of smile his way. "But, thank you. You are quite the flatterer, T'mic." That offered arm is taken gingerly, her fingertips resting just on the inside of his elbow. A glance is given to the dancers, her lips pulled into an unreadable line. "I do not think she will be back. Perhaps, after a little while, I might be coerced to dance." If she can get the sand out of her sandals.
R'uen's brow go up. "Never on a dragon? Of course, I can't say I spent much time on them myself before I impressed." He crams a few forkfuls of ham into his mouth, before continuing on. After chewing and swallowing of course, hastily. "Telgar. I impressed at Telgar. From the woodcraft originally. If anywhere is home..." Woodcraft. "Do you get up that far? In your travels?"
"Well met, Tadi," P'draig says politely and reaches for the girl's hand to lead her onto the space cleared for dancing. "Okay, so we'll start out with an easy one," the Weyrlingmaster says and then turns not to face Tadi, but to stand alongside. "Watch my feet," and he sketches out a simple two-step that can fit into most dances so long as the beat isn't in 3/4 time. "Okay, now you try it side-by-side, then we'll try face-to-face."
Mic leads Sunniva away from the dancers, dropping P'draig and Tadi a nod and grin as they pass. "I wouldn't've guessed you for being older. And what's that they say? 'It's not flattery if it's true'?" Deliberately or not, he takes P'draig's abandoned seat and hands Sunniva into it, only then taking his own ease. "Well, maybe after a little bit I'll see about - how'd you put it? Coercing. It's better when everybody's willing, though."
"Well met." She chimes in return, taking his hand gently and following the Weyrlingmaster carefully. As he stands beside her, she watches his feet as directed. A curious quirk of her brow before she attempts to mimic the movement, stumbling quite easily despite the simplicity of it. "Mmf.. My feet don't agree." She points out, letting out a bit of laughter despite the frustration that shows.
Gitana smiles, "I never made it to the wood craft, my older siblings did though, Marko even did a stint in the Smith craft, before he was kicked out that is." There's a smile there. "I'm actually one of the younger ones, this is my first year performing with the troupe. My Older sister is absolutely incredible" She smiles to Sunniva and then to the green rider she's with. "Better hold her to that, that one's got a dancer's spirit. She just doesn't know it yet. " She glances back to R'uen "I hope you find home here,"
"Try it again," P'draig says patiently and repeats the sequence of steps a little more slowly this time, looks over at her stumbling feet. "Sometimes it's actually easier to just let the music carry you off too. Not think about steps."
"Oh?" There's just the slightest lifting of her brows at the saying, even as she takes the offered seat with well-trained grace. Sunniva's hands fold in her lap and it's only then that she realizes she's failed to give a proper introduction. "/Oh/, I am so terribly sorry. My name is Sunniva." Better late than never, right? Her gaze drops to her folded hands, then lift with a puzzled look directed to Gitana. "Well, I do like dancing but-" Back to T'mic again, this time with, "Well, I- it is just that I rather dislike the sand. Were it anywhere else, it would not require coercion."
"Well, I look forward to seeing some excellent performances then," R'uen grins. And he's about to say something else when a rider calls out to him. His brows go up and then he turns an apologetic smile to Gitana. "Looks like I'm being summoned. It was good to meet you," he tells her, gathering up his plate to make his way over to his wingrider, the words 'settle a bet' wafting through the noise when he arrives.
Tadi frowns, watching his steps as he slows it down. "I doubt I have.. What's it called? A sense of rhythm.." Chewing on her bottom lip, she attempts to sway along with the music rather than to force her feet to listen. A stumble but, better than before. Repeating, her feet slowly begin to fall into the right pace.
"Sunniva? It suits you." Mic's manners may not be as polished as hers, but they're more than adequate for the occasion. He glances back toward the dancing, eyes lighting on Tadi and her taller partner to watch them for a few steps before it's back to Sunniva with another smile. "I wouldn't let you fall. Even if I had to pick you up and carry you. You can't weigh much more than a firestone sack."
P'draig nods as he watches, "There that's better, and actually, here," the Weyrlingmaster looks up and over, seeking T'mic out and he lifts a hand to wave the greenrider over. "We'll demonstrate a little and then we'll take a whirl, that way you can see how it works, both leading and following."
Dragon> To Aath, Jekzith has been providing all the right kind of attention tonight, up to and including a wing to cuddle under, but right now he's making a request for P'draig. << Will you let T'mic know that P'draig would like to dance with him? >>
Dragon> To Jekzith, Aath sighs happily for his attention, hardly even making eyes at all of the other handsome men pining for the merest breath of her notice. << --There. I have told him. >>
Dragon> To Aath, Jekzith nuzzles gently at her very lovely neck as reward. << Thank you, Aath. >>
Gitana smiles, and too stands to leave. "You've all been excellent company but I am afraid I must take my leave." She offers Sunniva a wink, "Enjoy the night" and with a clinking noise she departs.
Another "Oh," is given, her manners not so much forgotten as having been waylaid by some degree of pleased confusion. Sunniva worries at her lower lip a bit, gaze drifting to the dancers -- and thus to P'draig and Tadi, by extension, who both get a small wave. "Well," oh, and Gitana's leaving, so another wave is tossed the dancer's way as well, and then she astutely observes, "perhaps after your dance with the Weyrlingmaster, then?"
The Istan laughs but stands, leaving his plate behind for someone else to collect. Later. "Why not? I look forward to it, Sunniva." The blue-eyed woman gets one last smile before Mic's heading back across the sand, face lighting as he draws closer to P'draig. "I'm not taking you away from your dancing, am I?" he asks of first Tadi, then the brownrider even as his arm slips back around the taller man's waist.
Tadi glances down at her feet again, carefully watching the steps now as they seem to agree. When he begins to wave T'mic over, she peeks up at the greenrider to spot Sunniva. Smiling, she greets the woman with a polite wave of her hand. To T'mic, she shakes her head. "I don't know how to dance. He was trying to teach me how to."
P'draig snorts at T'mic and moves his hands into the proper spots. "We're teaching a very nice young lady how to dance here, Mic, keep your hands polite," he says teasingly and then looks over at Tadi for a second. "Okay, I'm going to lead," and he shoots T'mic a significant look there: don't lead. "So watch for a second, we'll go slow and then .. hey actually, then go stand behind T'mic and make your feet do what his do, then we'll trade off. Okay?" He looks between the other two questioningly for this plan.
"Certainly, T'mic," Sunniva begins, but then she pauses, forehead furrowing just a touch. "Oh. /Oh/! Oh, how could I have forgotten-" she trails off, hastily rising to her feet and dusting herself off. "T'mic, I am terribly sorry, but-" her hands flutter like helpless birds "-another time. I /promise/." And she is not one to break promises, from the nigh distraught look on her face as she makes it. Stranger or no, she said she would; so she shall. End of story. And, with that -- and another round of those quick waves -- she heads off at a sharp angle toward the caverns.
"Polite," Mic snickers, but his hands are chaste enough even if it takes a minute to figure out whose hands go where. He's not leading: right "--Oh shells, there she goes," he adds forlornly, spotting Sunniva's exit past the taller man's shoulders. "Sunniva, later!" He watches Sunniva go a few seconds longer before refocusing on Tadi and P'draig; offers both of them a quick smile. "Put your hands on my hips," he offers over his shoulder to the young girl. "You can feel when I move."
Tadi blinks at P'draig before letting out a soft laugh. At the suggestion she shuffles behind the greenrider to watch his feet in the dance. Her hands find his hips as suggested, eyes still on the ground at his feet. "Okay.. I might make you stumble." She points out cautiously. The girl's not graceful, most likely to stumble and cause quite the tumble.
P'draig counts off the beat and then starts to go through the simple figure, verrrry sloooowly. "All right back there?" he asks over T'mic's shoulder to Tadi. Then his gaze pulls back to the greenrider and he grins down at him, eyes dancing with mischief.
T'mic's a little more awkward than usual - or so Paddy'd note - but still steady enough to keep from tumbling Tadi off her feet. "I'm doing fine - how about you?" This last over his shoulder again to the girl. When he looks back up at the taller man his eyes likewise sparkle, well and truly amused by the 'greenrider sandwich'.
The exchange between the riders is lost on the girl, who is really focusing on watching the feet before her and keeping her grip on the greenrider. A slow breath as she attempts to follow without stumbling, careful and tentative movements. "I'm okay." She breathes out after a moment, slowly relaxing as her feet begin to follow along.
There's still that /grin/ on P'draig's face as they keep on moving and he speeds up just a little so they're more in the beat of the music. "Okay? Good. There we go," the brownrider says gaily. "All right, trade up, Mic, I'm afraid Tadi needs to cut in," in that same teasing tone right before he stops. There's a momentary lean from the Weyrlingmaster to drop a kiss onto his weyrmate's cheek, then he's holding a hand out to the girl again for her turn. "When we're through, Mic, I promise, a whole set of dances."
T'mic's obliging: obligingly serves as template for Tadi's behavior, obligingly steps aside in her favor when it's asked. Demure, even. Well-behaved, one might say. He grips Paddy's chin and steals a peck on the lips in return for that discreet cheek-kiss, then backs off with an inviting arm sweep to give Tadi her chance at dancing. "I'll be waiting," he promises with a smile for them both, heads off to recover what's left of his meal after firelizards have been at it (not much). Afterwards greenrider and brown dance and laugh while sand flies under their feet under the Harpers' coaxing; later still, sway in each other's arms as the night sky spins slowly above.
When: Late afternoon, 7/27/17 (Date shift)
Where: Lake Shore, Fort Weyr
What: P'draig's traditional cookout for the Weyrlings. Fun times.
Please note that while this was a celebration for the weyrlings, this was not graduation. Paddy has just always had a cookout for the Weyrlings towards the end of Weyrlinghood or at the end of Weyrlinghood as a special parting gesture.
Paddy's Party Getup
Dark hair curls, finger-length, atop this man's head above a face composed of strong features. Evenly spaced eyes the color of water on a cloudy day are overarched with thick, dark brows and set above a straight nose, generous mouth and strong jaw. Tall at just an inch or two above six feet, his build shows proof of strength through shoulders and arms. Telltale scars that look like old burns and cuts on his hands and arms speak of time formerly spent working in a kitchen. Though long of limb, his physique is well-balanced, neither wiry or muscle-bound. He appears to be in his late twenties or early thirties.
A seagreen shirt of silky sisal, light and airy, well cut with embroidery on the placket, cuffs and up each sleeve, tucked into finely tailored navy blue pants make up his fancier wear. Ankle boots of the same navy shade are light enough for dancing, but warm enough for protection against the cold of Between.
Late afternoon sunlight, rich and golden casts a warm glow across the lake as the party for the weyrlings starts to kick into gear. P'draig's down by the fire, poking a long-handled fork into the side of a pig, juices running down its side. Dishes of all sorts line a long trestle table, everything's being served buffet style tonight and the scents of good things to eat permeates the air. Tiki torches have been thrust into the sand and soil around the lake, lending a cheery atmosphere and the Weyrlingmaster laughs as Ph'lyp scurries up with round eyes to ask if the pig is done yet. "Soon, Ph'lyp, soon!" he promises.
Nerine's Party Getup
Intense silver blue eyes rimmed in a deep navy hue are set in a heart shaped face. Her features are soft, feminine, from the smallish curve of her nose to the full soft curve of her lips. Dark brown locks frame her face, Spiky with a subtle wave her hair hangs just below her chin. Her skin is a creamy porcelain tone, and just as soft as it looks despite the few scars and calluses. Her body balances delicately between fuller feminine curves and the lean muscled form of a rider. Her 5'4" form is sound.
Nerine is 18 turns, 3 months, 22 days old.
Soft shimmery silver blue frames her neckline, Short sleeves exposing the toned muscle of a rider. A navy ribbon creates the empire waist for this gown which ends just above the knee in a broad ribbon of navy trim.
Paige, attired in a skirt and sleeveless, button-up shirt, is at once both delighted and anxious as she and Tiasheth arrive for the party; both marvel over the impressive looking spread, the torches, the cheery ambiance. To pig and fire, the greenrider eventually wanders, offering the cook a small smile and a, "Smells good, P'draig, sir." There's even a salute, out of pure habit. "Thank ya fer doin' all this fer us. S'awful nice." G'ben's come up behind her ostensibly to offer the same, but his attention, too, is captured by the roasting pig. "That almost done, sir?" he has to ask, eager. "It'll go awfully well with some of the dishes you've got laid out there, I bet."
P'draig gives the pig another poke and grins over at the hungry Weyrlings. Paige's salute gets one in return from him, albeit lazy and only two-fingered. "Paige, G'ben, good to see you. And don't you both look nice tonight?" he compliments. "Just a few more minutes and we'll swing it off a pit, get to carving. Go on and load up your plate with sides already, won't be long," he encourages.
A figure clad in silvery blue makes her way down to the gathering by the lake side. . . wait a second? Is that Nerine in a . . .Dress? The Green Rider seems a little sheepish as she nears the roasting pit. Tugging a bit at the hem which falls just at her knees. "Hello P'draig, wow, that looks delicious." Catching sight of the culprit of her dress Nerine huffs and makes her way to Paige's side. "Paige I just feel ridiculous in this thing, can I /please/ go back and change?"
Paige murmurs something along the lines of a thanks, moving to fix herself a plate at the long table as suggested. Nerine's arrival deters her, however, and the girl just beams as her friend approaches. "Aw, but y'look so nice, " she protests, smiling. "S'becomin' t'ya, I knew 'twould be! Dun - Dun Zerith like it?" A hand unconsciously brushes down her own skirt, smoothing an invisible crease in her sleeveless shirt. "Tia says y'look nice, too, " she offers.
.
P'draig stands back a little from the pig, runs his wrist across his forehead and smiles as Nerine approaches as well. "Don't change, you look nice, Nerine," the weyrlingmaster says sincerely. "Besides when the harpers get going, then you'll have a skirt to twirl." A few moments later he gets some help from one of the kitchen staff who're helping with the cooking and they heft the piggy up off th fire, carry it still on the spit over to a second table spread with a large piece of oiled paper. Sharp knives come out. Carving time. P'draig and two other cooks get to work slicing out sections of perfectly cooked meat quickly, lining it up on platters. "Here we go folks!" the Weyrlingmaster calls out.
Dragon> To Jekzith, Aath reaches out, closer than he might expect, spangled and glistening to a high sheen. << Where are you, Jekzith? >>
Dragon> To Aath, Jekzith showers Aath with bright firework sparks. << Down by the lake! They are having good things to eat and there will be music and dancing P'draig says. >>
A green well-familiar to the weyrlings settles on the lake shore, preening and arching at the gathered dragons and keeping an interested eye on the festivities. She scarcely pauses to let her rider dismount; the man gives her a laughing pat before jogging over to the party, coming up behind the carvers with their wickedly sharp knives. "We've got great timing," he says to the Weyrlingmaster, grinning across the table at the eager faces lined up to eat. "What can I do to help?"
Paige eventually moves to claim some meat for her plate, digging in with relish and happily greeting familiar faces as they show up. She's content to eat, converse and eventually dance; after all, skirts are indeed for twirling.
P'draig tilts a look over his shoulder at T'mic and grins, not missing a beat with the carving. "Go get two plates and load up. Save me some stuff, because I'm going to be carving for a little while," the Weyrlingmaster tells the Istan greenrider, and leans back far enough to drop a kiss onto his cheek before returning his attention to the partly carved pork roast. More and more weyrlings, residents and riders make their way down to the shore and the harpers start tuning up off a little ways beyond the torchlight as the sun drops lower aiming for sunset, casting their light into sharper relief.
Nerine absently smoothes the fabric of the dress, moving to pile food on her plate. She smiles as she notes T'mic and P'draig's exchange. "Thanks P'draig this all is fantastic." She grabs an empty seat at one of the tables.
R'uen comes lake-wards, hands in his pockets and his stride lazy and long. As he nears though, he can't help but breathe in deeply and close his eyes just a bit for the fantastic aromas of food in the air. A glance around, however, has him in a sea of mostly unfamiliar faces and so instead of diving right in, he lingers around the edges for a little while longer.
What a pretty day and what an elaborately-dressed pair of sisters. Berit and Sunniva are walking arm-in-arm, both wearing dresses that constitute as more formal than is needed for the cookout. They appear unfazed by their appearances, and lean their heads together as they talk in low voices in the typical way that young girls do. "I think your dress is horribly adorable, Sunni, so stop fussing. Truly." Berit laughs and squeezes the other girl's hand, but slips her arm free as they get closer to the crowd. "I think we arrived a little late. I hope no one minds," she says, looking around, perhaps searching for familiar faces.
Where there is food there should be music and where there is music? Why there is dance of course. What better way to enjoy a night away from the caravan than where there is a large gathering of people near food? The lithe dancer steps eagerly, pausing near a figure at the edge of the group. "If you don't mind me saying so you seem a bit nervous?" She grins flashing the slight space between those teeth.
"Go get him some food," the Istan grouses good-naturedly, offering Nerine a smile as she passes through. "You'd think we were weyrmated, or something." But off he goes after his kiss, swinging wide to the end of the line. ...Where there's a R'uen hanging about looking uncertain. T'mic gives the bronzerider a wide grin and jabs his hand at the man, saying, "T'mic, Aath's, Ista. You've got a face I'm not familiar with. What do they call you?"
"You do not think it is too-" a hand flaps, helplessly, "-inappropriate," Sunniva settles on with a fretful curve of her mouth, absently reaching over to fuss at Berit's hair. She's already fussed at her own plenty for now, even though it's simply up in an elegant coil of a bun. A glance is likewise given to the crowd and Sunni soon finds her lower lip caught in her teeth. Thoughtful. "Oh, no. It is perfectly acceptable to show up a little later; far better than being too early," is offered reassuringly to her sister.
Not a girl for pretty dresses and parties, dancing, or any of that. But rather, sitting by the food and happily sampling everything. Tadi moves easily to the tables, slipping past any that just linger without movement. A plate is taken and she takes some samples quickly before moving off to the side to watch the dancers. A curious look and a wrinkle of her nose before the dressy Beri and Sunniva are eyed. A glance to her own garb, before she shrugs it off, to watch the dancers again.
"No such thing as late for a pig roast, unless there's no pig left!" P'draig calls over to the sisters from his spot where he's carving, knife flashing a little in the ruddy light. Ph'lyp's made it up to the head of the line and is happily waiting as slices of the meat are laden onto his plate by one of the cooks. "Sir, this just smells too good," he says with a little sigh and then trots off with G'ben and D'bor to perch on a log and dig in.
Nerine smiles, "You'd think, but hey your both growing men, you need your sustenance." She teases light heartedly. A glance goes to the two unfamiliar faces at the edge of the group, and a stifled laugh at the familiar worried chitter of Berit's sister escapes. "How fares Ista T'mic?" She returns herself to the conversation, only occasionally scanning for someone who is apparently not yet arrived.
R'uen's brows go up when a dancer draws near, but he flashes a notably less gapped smile back at her. "Don't mind you saying it but I'm not feeling particularly nervous," he tells her, taking a hand from his pocket to scruff at the back of his neck anyway. And then there's T'mic in front of him, offering a hand. And so he'll get one in return. "R'uen. Zaiventh's. Fort. All the way from Ista for a tropical dinner? I'd think you'd have plenty of these on the island." His grin might not be so wide at the greenriders, but it's just as affable.
T'mic flashes the dancer an appreciative once-over. "Who could be nervous with you around?" Then he's exchanging grips with the not-nervous R'uen. "All the way from Ista for him," he corrects, jerking his head toward the table with the pig on it. Or maybe one of the people behind it. Or getting served from it. "And we do - we going to see you at one of them? --Evening, Nerine," he adds. "Just fine, thanks. You and Zerith doing well?"
A happy grin is beamed at the Weyrlingmaster, before Berit turns back to her sister. "Inappropriate? Why ever would it be inappropriate? I think I have never dressed down for a party in my life, and I do not believe you have either. Do you want to start *now*?" Aghast, and then the planes of the young goldrider's face smooth out as she gives Sunniva a puckish smile. "I think we should have spent a little more time dressing our hair, then. I do not believe it is considerable enough time to be considered formally late, but too late to be considered on time." If she caught that one.
Gitana grins, "then forgive my misinterpretation of hanging on the edges of a perfectly good party." She offers a graceful performers bow and a grin. "I am Gitana, Of the Kereiv Dance Troupe, at your service R'uen." She grins, giving the Istan a glance in kind. "The same could be said of you two fine gentlemen, I sincerely hope I am not intruding on this lovely event."
"I scarcely know what is appropriate to these sorts of affairs," Sunniva exclaims, glancing down at the ground. Sand. It makes her shudder. "Perhaps I ought to have gone with something floral." Faranth knows /why/, but that's Sunni. Her nose wrinkles delicately at Berit and she sniffs gently. "Well, perhaps we ought to have, but we are here now, so I suppose it will have to do. And we are /fashionably/ late, dearest sister, if that is more suitable." P'draig is waved to, as are a few other familiar faces, each wave paired with a polite enough smile.
Someone, it seems, has been through the Fort stores, and returned with clothes to prove it. D'kai's looking particularly pleased with himself as he strolls towards the party, hands in his pockets and a grin on his lips. For a moment, he lingers on the fringes of all the excited, happy, pretty, people, though he's soon drawn in by the tantalizing smell of that roasting pork. Little Ph'lyp is clapped on the back as the bronzerider nears the roast, the shorter boy stumbling just a bit while loading up his plate, and Deke grins down at the greenrider, reaching above and around him to snag a plate and work on filling up /that/.
R'uen looks past T'mic toward the table with the pig and lifts a brow, but barely starting to chuckle. It is interrupted though, by Gitana's introduction. He gives her a deep nod, an easy grin. "An honor, I'm sure. So it's your job to lure people out into a dance, is it?"
Tadi watches as she eats, those who chatter and dance. Stuffing her face, almost, without restraint to sample what she has gathered. Occasionally, she moves food aside with disagreement to the taste. Idly, her gaze travels to the cooking pig and then to T'mic. Chuckling, she trails to get in line for the pig while still nibbling on the bits on her plate. D'kai is eyed silently as he fills his plate, looking to see if he nabs something she has missed in her rush to fill the plate.
Nerine laughs brightly, and blinks a little confused at the conversing between Sunniva and Berit, but she nods back to T'mic. "Zerith does well, she's probably out a ways from the shallows. She has her own ideas of what a good time is." Nerine spots D'kai and waves offering a whistle of approval. "You do look sharp D'kai. That cousin of yours around too?"
"I'm sure you've never intruded anywhere in your life," T'mic puts in to Gitana with a sidelong grin sent to the bronzerider. "--Hey, there's Deke. Enjoy your dancing," that to Gitana, "I expect to see you at Ista," R'uen, and to Nerine as he passes, "Most of 'em do." Then he's jogging through the crowd - slowly, but a jog all the same - to fall into line behind the lanky D'kai. "Hey, you. How's Mikhuth? That a new knot I see there, bronze /rider/?"
"Stop being such a sourpuss, Sunni. There is not much more to this than, say, a summer's festival or a turnday party. What would you wear to those?" And on the end of her words, Berit looks down at her own knee-length dress, then back up at her sister. "I think you worry overmuch. You should enjoy yourself. There is dancing.." She turns that way, watching in an idle way. "There is food." But they both know their appetite are lacking in that quarter. "Who knows, you might have the best night of your life, Sunni," she says, hands on her hips. "Might make some new friends."
P'draig works steadily. The line is long and getting longer. The cooks load up plates as people pass and as he carves, P'draig is actually saving little bits aside here and there, apparently for himself and the staff. "Here you go," he says to Neala as she steps up with Saryan. "You two fill up your mouths and try to be nice now, you hear?" he tells both 'mean girls' with a wink and then serves up the next customer. He pauses now and then to lift a hand to wave back to those greeting him until they're basically down to the bones on much of the pig and the platters are set out for people to help themselves at the end of the buffet. Those bits Paddy was saving are shared out and he moves to re-join T'mic, eyes bright. The sun drifts even lower, the shadows deepening while the torches brighten and the music kicks up in earnest as more dances swing out onto the 'floor'.
Hmf. Sunniva's brows lift briefly as she pulls back a step to better appraise her sister. "Well, I did have that lovely-" wait, no, that one didn't get sent. She trails off, glancing away. "Dancing on the sand is an invitation for absolute disaster," is her conclusion, then her gaze goes to the food, then to Berit with a mildly amused 'you have to be joking' look. But, in that glance, she catches sight of a familiar face and she can't restrain the urge to wave a bit and call out, "Oh, there is D'kai!" in part to inform her sister and to try to get the young man's attention. Make new friends? Have the best night of her life? Those go completely in one ear and out the other ... or over her head. Either way.
Grin, grin. D'kai's got a great big beaming smile to encompass the whole party, and he swivels his head this way and that to see what familiar faces he might spy in the crowd. Nerine - P'draig - Berit - Sunni! They all recieve a wave, a nod, and the last a jaunty tip of his hat and a wink. Deke's feeling fiiiine. He's quick to snag choice pieces from that roast, but the voice behind him has him twisting his head and directing that cheery smile T'mic-wards. "Hey, yourself! Mickey's great, we're both great - we're real riders now, Mic!" Wooo! And he can't resist turning, just a little bit, to show off that flashy new knot.
Gitana grins wildly. "Amongst other things I imagine, though I've yet to find a partner who could keep up." There is another smile and dark eyes survey the scene She gives a smile to T'mic, "Perhaps not, but it does no good to be rude to my gracious hosts." Hearing the harpers strike up a wilder tune a grin slips over her features. "Would either of you gentlemen care to dance?" She does not wait for a reply but moves immediately to the dance floor, the bangles tinkling as she moves to the dance floor. She catches a brief glance at Sunniva and laughs. "Dancing is fun no matter where you do it dear heart, t'would do you good to try." She offers the girl a wink, waving to D'kai as she is lost to the rhythm of the dance out on the floor.
The Istan says, "I know. I see," and reaches up to tap Deke's shoulder. "Congratulations." As the brownrider comes to join them T'mic tosses a grin over his shoulder and gathers up a plate to hand back. He had that ready, really. "--Oh hey, Paddy - didja see D'kai's shiny new knot, there? What wing's lucky enough to get you?" The last to the bronzerider, of course.
Laughter comes easily to Berit at her sister's revelations; these are the things she has missed. "Whatever is wrong with dancing on the sand? Do you not enjoy the feel of sand in between your toes?" But her lips twitch, for she knows of the truth of that, and a mirthful look is leveled on her sister. She opens her mouth, and has to close it as her sister calls out, a bit shockingly, to D'kai. Blink, stare. "Do you.. do you *know* him?" Her dark brows lift as she turns fully to face Sunniva, hands still planted on her hips. "D'kai?"
P'draig shares out those choice tidbits he saved. Some for his plate, some for Mic's and a bit of crispy-something-yummy for D'kai. The Weyrlingmaster squints at the indicated knot and beams. "Congratulations, D'kai." And he nudges T'mic lightly with his shoulder. "One more down," he says audibly but in a nudge-nudge-wink-wink way. "Won't be much longer now 'til you're all tapped and free of me," he says with a merry laugh.
R'uen is a touch surprised to be expected anywhere, but gives an agreeable sort of nod to the Istan. However, then the dancer is making her fine offer. The bronzeriders gives one more longing look at the roast pig sitting just over there, smelling so delicious, but he quirks a grin for Gitana. "Sure, let's have a dance. But just a short one. Else I might pass out from hunger and you'll have to catch me. Might get awkward," he teases and follows her to the dancefloor, offering his hand.
Nerine giggles, "Who's free of whom I wonder?" She gives a suspicious look to P'draig. "We all know you're the one itching to be rid of us." A good natured smile crosses her lips as she stands to sit on the lake shore.
Shudder. This time, it's far more apparent, with Sunniva hugging herself. Gitana's words earn a sharp shake of her head, disgust briefly touching her features at the very idea. Her attention quickly returns to her sister, green eyes widening. "Oh, /no/. Berit, you know better," she chides in her typically ineffectual way, hands on her hips in a reflection of her sister's posture and chin lifting a bit. That posture abruptly shifts, with her straightening, hands folding before her and mouth twitching just a little before she answers with, "Yes, I know him. We danced at the Gather -- I looked for you, but-" well, the Gather was very large and she was just one person. Her forehead creases. "Why?"
Tadi snags her piece of pig, settling herself down in the sand near the dancers to watch, curiously. The movement of the feet, the swaying, the sound of the music. Rather than, attempt to join in or practice, she simply sample the pig curiously as she listens to the conversations amusing herself with the chatter rather than joining in quite yet.
Gitana accepts R'uen's hand with a grin. "Of course it would be terrible of me to monopolize your company to the point of starvation." The steps are easy but there's a sort of leap to the way she moves, the coins at her belt singing with each step. "See now, this I think is much nicer than watching wouldn't you agree?" she lets a merry laugh loose. "Better than just standing and watching any day."
Nerine slips away from the group, perhaps the noise is too much for her but then again maybe she is off to meet someone.
Sister looks at sister, lips curling upwards in a wayward smile. "I *do* know better, just you see." Berit imitates this time, linking fingers in front of her dress. "I think you should give it a try, in the least. There is no harm is trying something new. Who knows, you might have a change of heart." Yeah right, but she pastes on a sunny show for smile that abruptly dwindles at the truth just revealed. "Danced.. with.. D'kai?" Her chin tucks in, her green eyes serious. "Do you realize who and what he is, Sunni?" Only a subtle narrowing of her eyes is noticeable. "He is not the sort *you* should be dancing with." That said, she turns and starts searching.. presumably for D'kai, her mouth pursed with displeasure.
T'mic asks quite reasonably as he takes a bit of crisp skin, "How many left now?" and nudges Paddy right back, using his elbow to best advantage. "Who's been snapped up? And what does Mikhuth," no nicknames for him, it'd seem, "Think of being a real rider? Or hasn't it sunk in to him yet? --Here," he adds, nodding to a quieter section of crowd away from the tables, "Should be able to talk there, yeah?"
Oooh, crispy-something-yummy. D'kai's /favourite/. Just like - ooh, what's /this/? He's still moving on down the line, filling that plate, though he does pause in stuffing his face to reply, "Flint! Flint. T'rev got me. Thank you, sir." All spoken around some of that pork, of course. So maybe it was 'Sht'hrev' that tapped him, who knows? The bronzerider pauses a beat, shuffles all his cutlery and plate to one hand, and raises his arm to wiggle his fingers to greeting to the dancing Gitana. Er, Gitana and R'uen. The salutation's passed on, regardless, whether or not she sees it, and he continues, finally reaching the end of all that food and appearing quite forlorn for a beat or two. Berit's displeasure is thus far evaded, and he's still cheerily replying to T'mic, "Oh, he's just so happy. The both of us! We've freedom, finally."
"There is plenty of harm in it," is Sunniva's crisp reply. "I can hardly afford to lose a good dress due to slipping and falling or something equally terrible." One hand settles at her hip, the other free to flutter dismissively in the air at the latter topic. "Well, yes." Her eyes narrow, mouth pulled briefly to one side. "And I do know who and what he is, sister dear; I am not blind or /stupid/." Not that the implication was made directly, but such is her perception. That brief flare of annoyance is quickly smoothed over, much as her skirts are smoothed down with both hands. Oh. But then Berit is move and the elder sister hastens to follow, skirts hitched up just a little to avoid the sand that will inevitably creep into her sandals. "No, no, /no/," is hissed after Berit; Sunni can all but see where this is going and it will likely end in tears. Oh dear.
R'uen is not nearly so flamboyant on the floor as his dancing partner, but he keeps up well enough without embarassing himself too badly. "I can't say I've had a dance very recently. I never did get to take my turn on the floor at Benden. Were you there for the midsummer gather?" he asks, making light conversation as they move around the dance floor.
P'draig finishes getting his plate put together and nods, giving Mic the rundown as the amble for that spot.
Gitana shakes her head smiling at her partner. "Unfortunately that was one we missed, and mama being so fond of Benden Red too" She laughs, "We just made it to fort a few Seven days ago, but I admit I don't remember you from last year's visit."
"Well that's because I wasn't here then," R'uen explains, lifting Gitana's hand so that she might take a twirl beneath it. "I just moved here. Well, not -just- anymore, but recently enough."
Oh no, not that. Berit turns from her searching to mildly stare at her sister. "I hardly think you understand the circumstances and the consequences. Hardly." She fluffs out the gossamer folds of her dress and, with purposeful strides, angles herself in the general direction of D'kai. Assuming her sister will follow, she speaks as she walks, "No, what? No, he has no alternative plans than being your 'friend'? No, he has not tried anything other than dancing or thought about it? No, he will not influence you horribly? I think you can save your breath for later, Sunni." It is an unusual bout of putting her foot down for the goldrider, but she looks determined as she works her way through the crowd, only losing sight of her target a few times.
Mic continues cheerfully enough, "I know I was happy to be tapped, finally, even if my Weyrlingmaster ended up being my Wingleader." He's gotten over his problems with Weyrlingmasters now, it would seem, from the arm he has about P'draig's waist. Of course, now he can't eat anything from the plate he's holding in the other, but such are the difficulties of life. "That's a problem you don't have at Fort, anyway. --And T'rev, huh? I know him. Good guy. I think you two'll like flying with him. S'from Telgar, you know. Originally."
Gitana smiles, "that explains it then I guess," Her eyes drift only momentarily to Sunniva and the other woman but they are dismissed with a shake of her head. "How are you finding fort so far? Is it to your liking or do you miss home?" she asks her full attention on her partner.
D'kai's still oh-so-blissfully unaware of Berit's impending wrath, and the infrequent glance he does spare over his shoulder tends towards Sunniva and less on her storming younger sister. "Oh, I'm happy, I'm happy!" As if T'mic couldn't tell. "Oh, you know him? Yeah he seems - great. Real nice. Still kind of trying to - you know, merge those Telgar and Fort riders together." The bronzerider nods, as though T'rev's business, by association, becomes his business. And he just /smiles/, dreamily. And eats.
The elder is, of course, obediently following the younger, her tone mild and plaintive as compared to the brief outburst. Of course, it is unusual enough that she's actually pursuing this matter, rather than simply let it go. "Berit, /please/. He is an absolute dear and has not done anything untoward in the slightest. Honestly, he has been a great help for me here, so please do not do anything rash," perhaps she might be better served saving her breath. It doesn't seem to matter that much to Sunniva, who is now trying to hasten her steps to attempt a subtle interception. Unfortunately, she's too focused on Berit to try to warn D'kai in some fashion. Alas.
"Both," R'uen says to Gitana with a touch of emphasis. "I do fine Fort to my liking. And I miss home. Miss a lot of things. How about you? Is there anywhere you call home? More than other places?"
Steady, if by slow degrees, Berit had been gaining ground towards her fellow, former weyrling, until an unlikely obstacle steps into her path. She finds herself staring at the large form of Cirse, the Weyrwoman, of all people, and she is momentarily taken aback, her attention diverted. Words are exchanged in low voices - maybe a matter of importance - before the taller woman turns to leave and the younger goldrider follows, shrugging her shoulders helplessly as she passes by Sunniva. D'kai is saved for now, and her sister is saved further embarrassment, as Cirse and Berit walk away from the party, one tagging behind the wiser.
Gitana nods and laughs. "Home is a bit of a foriegn concept to me, at least the way other people perceive it." The music slows and she glances to the tables. "I should feed you after stealing you away for a dance." She notes before continuing. "Home's been wherever we make camp, Its my brother and sisters and dancing and music and the quiet of the night, and the sound of the flute and fiddle. " She laughs a little "Its a bit silly really," She smiles.
"I kinda gathered," the Istan drawls up at D'kai, his grin never faltering. "So - is he giving you tomorrow off t' recover from the party? --Is he here?" The thought strikes him and he goes up on his toes, then grins at himself and hip-bumps P'draig. "Oi. You two trees. D'you see T'rev anywhere? No point in me straining when I've got -you- two here."
Tadi finishes off that plate of hers, watching the pairs dancing with curious young eyes. Or rather, the feet are watched with a studious glance and a furrow of her brows. Then, she looks up at the dancers themselves, studying the whole picture. Blatantly, she turns her head to look directly at the riders who are chatting still. Eyeing them all carefully.
P'draig nibbles on bits from his plate, listening to the exchanges between D'kai and T'mic. "Hm? No," the Weyrlingmaster leans upward shakes his head. "Nope, but there's a lot of people here." Paddy reaches up to tousle at Mic's hair then moves aside a little to sit, get to work on his food in earnest. Out of the corner of his eye he catches sight of Tadi. "Good dancers, aren't they?" he directs towards the girl.
"Actually," and D'kai suddenly turns a bit round-eyed at he thought, "Last we talked he said drills're an hour before dawn tomorrow. So I shouldn't, ah, celebrate too hard." Sigh. And Deke's miraculously saved, by Cirse of them all, though unwitting of that whole exchange. He looks over, just in time to watch Berit tailing away behind the Headwoman - and Sunniva, alone! Well, that won't do. He motions to her, happily, but not before he obligingly does a quick once-over of the crowds. "Nope," he affirms, shortly after P'draig, "Don't see him." And Tadi gets an ingenuous smile and wiggling little wave.
R'uen frowns faintly, a thoughtful sort of expression. "No, I understand that. A bit at least. I've been back home and it's the people there that I miss more than anything. And they aren't there anymore. So, when I say miss home, it's really more of missing... the past. More than the place." But oh, he won't be disuaded from food; a quick step out of the dance and he's gesturing a hand for Gitana to lead the way toward the tables.
Berit's distraction and departure is observed with a twinge of concern on her features; concern that rapidly dissolves once the younger has turned to move away. Relieved, Sunniva's shoulders slump and she lifts her hands to rub at her face. Food is glanced at in passing, but that is passed over with scarcely more than that fleeting look. Ah, but there are the danc- wait. D'kai's motioning snags just at the periphery of her vision, but it's incentive enough for her to hasten that way. "Oh! D'kai, how have you been?" is queried, though she's quick to add a warm, "And hello, sirs!" to both P'draig and T'mic, despite the former evidently moving away.
Gitana gives a suprised smile at the response. "I imagine you do then," she tilts her head studying a moment, smiling before leading back to the tables. She gives a wave to D'kai but he's off. She grabs a plate handing one to the rider and keeping on for herself. "I imagine after they all learn what a charming dancer you are this place won't take too long to feel like home."
T'mic winces for D'kai's impending pain. "Shells! You want me to go talk to him?" He sends P'draig off with a beam but doesn't follow the brownrider immediately; instead he uses the unexpected freeing of his hand to start picking at his delayed meal and keep talking to D'kai. Just then Sunniva joins them, and Mic quickly licks off his fingers and shifts his plate to the other hand before offering the clean one to her. "Hello yourself, miss. T'mic, Aath's. That's a lovely dress you're wearing."
Tadi quirks a brow, letting out a soft grunt of agreement before speaking. "'Suppose. Looks hard, though." A point at their feet, "wouldn't know how to get my feet to follow along.." Slowly, she grins before shrugging. "Must take a lot of practice not to fall or step on the other person.. Or they're just lucky?" D'kai gets a look as he smiles, but, slowly her lips curl almost mischeviously and her hand lifts to give a wave of her own. Sunniva is given a curious look as she approaches D'kai, then slowly she draws her attention back to the dancers.
"Well that's mighty kind of you," R'uen chuckles for Gitana, taking a plate positively heaping with ham. "Can you even believe how good this smells? Do you move around from festivity to festivity mostly? You probably get a good deal of these feasts, huh?"
There is a small laugh as the woman catches the girl's observations, turning from her plate long enough to address her she grins. "It does take practice, but that is nothing compared to the dancing in the caravan." That wild smile is turned to her dance partner for the evening. "Sometimes, but actually it has been a little rare to see feasts like this. With that rouge fall a while back a lot of folks were in pretty bad shape." She glances down to the plate piling it with delicious tidbits. "I'm also used to quite a bit more work before I earn my feed." She laughs.
"Awh," Shaking his head slightly, Deke lifts a hand to touch lightly at his hat, follow the brim with his fingers, and then lifting the hat entirely as Sunniva nears, though his words are still directed to T'mic, "Nah, it's fine. That's what I get for being tapped, eh? And no one needs to see me celebrate quite that hard, anyway." He chuckles, ducking his head. Tadi's return greeting is almost missed for that dip, but he quickly modifies that to a nod and pleasant smile. "D'kai, bronze Mikhuth's." And then, to Sunniva, "Good! As always. And you?" Quickly enough, D'kai's attention returns to his plate: and though he remains part of the conversation, he's quiet enough, simply enjoying the evening. Once he hour turns late he excuses himself - drills tomorrow!
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, T'mic," Sunniva replies dutifully with a smile, taking the offered hand with one of hers. A brief glance down to her dress is given, her smile uncertain for a moment before it settles a bit more comfortably. "Do you really think so? Thank you!" is stated with a bit of a curtsey. "Berit suggested it, but I was not so sure it would be suitable for something like this." D'kai is spoken briefly with before he excuses himself, her disappointment manifesting only in a funny downward quirk at the corner of her mouth.
"Some dances are hard and some are easier," P'draig tells Tadi with a grin. "It's just a question of practice, learning to do it right," he pops another bite of roasted pork into his mouth and chews carefully. He looks over as D'kai heads off, one hand lifting in parting greeting and he watches T'mic for a moment, amusement quirking the corners of his mouth upward, then he looks back towards Tadi. "Could teach you in a little bit once I finish eating?"
"A beautiful dress for a beautiful lady," the greenrider assures Sunniva, nodding D'kai a farewell as the taller man moves off. "So you know Berit?" He glances back at P'draig but doesn't catch the other man's eyes; still, he nods invitingly toward where the brownrider sits. "Want to go sit? Or are you in a dancing mood?"
"Well, I won't tell anyone that you've been shirking your duties," R'uen conspires with the tip of his head. "And I'd expect there aren't many people who see a feast like this one too often. Except maybe folks at Ista or Boll. Do you get down to Boll much?"
Tadi blinks a Gitana, nodding her head slowly as her brows furrow again in slight concentration. "I see.." Not one for patience in practicing, she almost shrugs it off before P'draig is offering to show her. A glance towards her own feet before she looks to the rider with a laugh. "I'm sure my feet will stumble a lot. If you'd put up with that, I'd like to learn. I don't think I'll be good."
There's just a faint blush at the compliment, with Sunni dipping her head in wordless appreciation. She fusses a bit at a section of lace, glancing sidelong to T'mic with, "Well, yes. She is my sister," though one wouldn't know it by their respective temperaments. The offers given are quickly considered, "I- I could not. Dance, that is. The sand," should suffice as explanation enough, as far as she's concerned. Her nose wrinkles, daintily. "Sitting would be lovely, though"
"I'm the Weyrlingmaster," P'draig notes with a chuckle. "For several months out of every turn, I have baby dragons doing their business on my feet. I think I can handle your toes." He winks over at the girl and works on through the rest of the food on his plate, then pushes it aside, wipes his mouth with his handkerchief and sticks it back in his pocket, rises to bow and offer his hand with overt formality. "P'draig, brown Jekzith's at your service for a dance." The faster tune that's been playing is winding up and something more mid-tempo is starting up, gitars and pipes mostly.
T'mic's eyebrows go up, and he turns toward the seats rather than the dance floor, offering his free arm to Sunniva. "I didn't know she had a sister. You're... the younger? And you don't have to worry about the sand," he adds with a charming smile sidelong. "I wouldn't let you fall. But if you'd rather sit for a while, that's fine with me too. We can talk for a bit before your older sister gets back."
Gitana smiles, "That's probably true, I've been to Boll a few times, but I've never seen Ista, for that I think you have to sail or ride dragon back and I've never done either." Her mouth quirks into a half smile, listening perhaps absently to the conversations around her. "My siblings love hunting on the beaches of Boll for fire lizard clutches, me I prefer runners, but then I may be biased." She smiles, and suppresses a giggle at Sunniva's explanation. "So where did you hail from before Fort, and before you became a rider?"
Tadi grins, nodding her head, "well, I imagine it'd hurt more for them to step on your feet than my harmless non-taloned ones." Laughing, she glances up as he bows in his greeting. Scrambling up from the sand, she does an awkward curtsey-bow. "Tadi is my name, sir."
"Younger?" It takes a beat for that to parse and then Sunniva's shaking her head, a few coils of hair being displaced. "Oh, no. I am the older of the two of us," she explains, casting a quick, almost coy kind of smile his way. "But, thank you. You are quite the flatterer, T'mic." That offered arm is taken gingerly, her fingertips resting just on the inside of his elbow. A glance is given to the dancers, her lips pulled into an unreadable line. "I do not think she will be back. Perhaps, after a little while, I might be coerced to dance." If she can get the sand out of her sandals.
R'uen's brow go up. "Never on a dragon? Of course, I can't say I spent much time on them myself before I impressed." He crams a few forkfuls of ham into his mouth, before continuing on. After chewing and swallowing of course, hastily. "Telgar. I impressed at Telgar. From the woodcraft originally. If anywhere is home..." Woodcraft. "Do you get up that far? In your travels?"
"Well met, Tadi," P'draig says politely and reaches for the girl's hand to lead her onto the space cleared for dancing. "Okay, so we'll start out with an easy one," the Weyrlingmaster says and then turns not to face Tadi, but to stand alongside. "Watch my feet," and he sketches out a simple two-step that can fit into most dances so long as the beat isn't in 3/4 time. "Okay, now you try it side-by-side, then we'll try face-to-face."
Mic leads Sunniva away from the dancers, dropping P'draig and Tadi a nod and grin as they pass. "I wouldn't've guessed you for being older. And what's that they say? 'It's not flattery if it's true'?" Deliberately or not, he takes P'draig's abandoned seat and hands Sunniva into it, only then taking his own ease. "Well, maybe after a little bit I'll see about - how'd you put it? Coercing. It's better when everybody's willing, though."
"Well met." She chimes in return, taking his hand gently and following the Weyrlingmaster carefully. As he stands beside her, she watches his feet as directed. A curious quirk of her brow before she attempts to mimic the movement, stumbling quite easily despite the simplicity of it. "Mmf.. My feet don't agree." She points out, letting out a bit of laughter despite the frustration that shows.
Gitana smiles, "I never made it to the wood craft, my older siblings did though, Marko even did a stint in the Smith craft, before he was kicked out that is." There's a smile there. "I'm actually one of the younger ones, this is my first year performing with the troupe. My Older sister is absolutely incredible" She smiles to Sunniva and then to the green rider she's with. "Better hold her to that, that one's got a dancer's spirit. She just doesn't know it yet. " She glances back to R'uen "I hope you find home here,"
"Try it again," P'draig says patiently and repeats the sequence of steps a little more slowly this time, looks over at her stumbling feet. "Sometimes it's actually easier to just let the music carry you off too. Not think about steps."
"Oh?" There's just the slightest lifting of her brows at the saying, even as she takes the offered seat with well-trained grace. Sunniva's hands fold in her lap and it's only then that she realizes she's failed to give a proper introduction. "/Oh/, I am so terribly sorry. My name is Sunniva." Better late than never, right? Her gaze drops to her folded hands, then lift with a puzzled look directed to Gitana. "Well, I do like dancing but-" Back to T'mic again, this time with, "Well, I- it is just that I rather dislike the sand. Were it anywhere else, it would not require coercion."
"Well, I look forward to seeing some excellent performances then," R'uen grins. And he's about to say something else when a rider calls out to him. His brows go up and then he turns an apologetic smile to Gitana. "Looks like I'm being summoned. It was good to meet you," he tells her, gathering up his plate to make his way over to his wingrider, the words 'settle a bet' wafting through the noise when he arrives.
Tadi frowns, watching his steps as he slows it down. "I doubt I have.. What's it called? A sense of rhythm.." Chewing on her bottom lip, she attempts to sway along with the music rather than to force her feet to listen. A stumble but, better than before. Repeating, her feet slowly begin to fall into the right pace.
"Sunniva? It suits you." Mic's manners may not be as polished as hers, but they're more than adequate for the occasion. He glances back toward the dancing, eyes lighting on Tadi and her taller partner to watch them for a few steps before it's back to Sunniva with another smile. "I wouldn't let you fall. Even if I had to pick you up and carry you. You can't weigh much more than a firestone sack."
P'draig nods as he watches, "There that's better, and actually, here," the Weyrlingmaster looks up and over, seeking T'mic out and he lifts a hand to wave the greenrider over. "We'll demonstrate a little and then we'll take a whirl, that way you can see how it works, both leading and following."
Dragon> To Aath, Jekzith has been providing all the right kind of attention tonight, up to and including a wing to cuddle under, but right now he's making a request for P'draig. << Will you let T'mic know that P'draig would like to dance with him? >>
Dragon> To Jekzith, Aath sighs happily for his attention, hardly even making eyes at all of the other handsome men pining for the merest breath of her notice. << --There. I have told him. >>
Dragon> To Aath, Jekzith nuzzles gently at her very lovely neck as reward. << Thank you, Aath. >>
Gitana smiles, and too stands to leave. "You've all been excellent company but I am afraid I must take my leave." She offers Sunniva a wink, "Enjoy the night" and with a clinking noise she departs.
Another "Oh," is given, her manners not so much forgotten as having been waylaid by some degree of pleased confusion. Sunniva worries at her lower lip a bit, gaze drifting to the dancers -- and thus to P'draig and Tadi, by extension, who both get a small wave. "Well," oh, and Gitana's leaving, so another wave is tossed the dancer's way as well, and then she astutely observes, "perhaps after your dance with the Weyrlingmaster, then?"
The Istan laughs but stands, leaving his plate behind for someone else to collect. Later. "Why not? I look forward to it, Sunniva." The blue-eyed woman gets one last smile before Mic's heading back across the sand, face lighting as he draws closer to P'draig. "I'm not taking you away from your dancing, am I?" he asks of first Tadi, then the brownrider even as his arm slips back around the taller man's waist.
Tadi glances down at her feet again, carefully watching the steps now as they seem to agree. When he begins to wave T'mic over, she peeks up at the greenrider to spot Sunniva. Smiling, she greets the woman with a polite wave of her hand. To T'mic, she shakes her head. "I don't know how to dance. He was trying to teach me how to."
P'draig snorts at T'mic and moves his hands into the proper spots. "We're teaching a very nice young lady how to dance here, Mic, keep your hands polite," he says teasingly and then looks over at Tadi for a second. "Okay, I'm going to lead," and he shoots T'mic a significant look there: don't lead. "So watch for a second, we'll go slow and then .. hey actually, then go stand behind T'mic and make your feet do what his do, then we'll trade off. Okay?" He looks between the other two questioningly for this plan.
"Certainly, T'mic," Sunniva begins, but then she pauses, forehead furrowing just a touch. "Oh. /Oh/! Oh, how could I have forgotten-" she trails off, hastily rising to her feet and dusting herself off. "T'mic, I am terribly sorry, but-" her hands flutter like helpless birds "-another time. I /promise/." And she is not one to break promises, from the nigh distraught look on her face as she makes it. Stranger or no, she said she would; so she shall. End of story. And, with that -- and another round of those quick waves -- she heads off at a sharp angle toward the caverns.
"Polite," Mic snickers, but his hands are chaste enough even if it takes a minute to figure out whose hands go where. He's not leading: right "--Oh shells, there she goes," he adds forlornly, spotting Sunniva's exit past the taller man's shoulders. "Sunniva, later!" He watches Sunniva go a few seconds longer before refocusing on Tadi and P'draig; offers both of them a quick smile. "Put your hands on my hips," he offers over his shoulder to the young girl. "You can feel when I move."
Tadi blinks at P'draig before letting out a soft laugh. At the suggestion she shuffles behind the greenrider to watch his feet in the dance. Her hands find his hips as suggested, eyes still on the ground at his feet. "Okay.. I might make you stumble." She points out cautiously. The girl's not graceful, most likely to stumble and cause quite the tumble.
P'draig counts off the beat and then starts to go through the simple figure, verrrry sloooowly. "All right back there?" he asks over T'mic's shoulder to Tadi. Then his gaze pulls back to the greenrider and he grins down at him, eyes dancing with mischief.
T'mic's a little more awkward than usual - or so Paddy'd note - but still steady enough to keep from tumbling Tadi off her feet. "I'm doing fine - how about you?" This last over his shoulder again to the girl. When he looks back up at the taller man his eyes likewise sparkle, well and truly amused by the 'greenrider sandwich'.
The exchange between the riders is lost on the girl, who is really focusing on watching the feet before her and keeping her grip on the greenrider. A slow breath as she attempts to follow without stumbling, careful and tentative movements. "I'm okay." She breathes out after a moment, slowly relaxing as her feet begin to follow along.
There's still that /grin/ on P'draig's face as they keep on moving and he speeds up just a little so they're more in the beat of the music. "Okay? Good. There we go," the brownrider says gaily. "All right, trade up, Mic, I'm afraid Tadi needs to cut in," in that same teasing tone right before he stops. There's a momentary lean from the Weyrlingmaster to drop a kiss onto his weyrmate's cheek, then he's holding a hand out to the girl again for her turn. "When we're through, Mic, I promise, a whole set of dances."
T'mic's obliging: obligingly serves as template for Tadi's behavior, obligingly steps aside in her favor when it's asked. Demure, even. Well-behaved, one might say. He grips Paddy's chin and steals a peck on the lips in return for that discreet cheek-kiss, then backs off with an inviting arm sweep to give Tadi her chance at dancing. "I'll be waiting," he promises with a smile for them both, heads off to recover what's left of his meal after firelizards have been at it (not much). Afterwards greenrider and brown dance and laugh while sand flies under their feet under the Harpers' coaxing; later still, sway in each other's arms as the night sky spins slowly above.