Log: First Dinner as an Istan
Who: Balinne, Paige, P'draig, T'mic, I'gand (NPC), Edana (NPC)
When:
Where: Bowl/Living Cavern, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy and Mic head down for a drink and a meal in the living caverns before hitting the baths. They bump into Balinne, introductions are made and then Paige turns up with her older brother who gives P'draig several long searching looks of the 'you better be good to my sister' variety.
Southeast Bowl, Ista Weyr
Even in darkness, the wide bowl glows softly, lit by twinkling stars and available moonlight. Despite the hard-packed ground and constant traffic, Ista's ever-present greenery still makes a valiant attempt to grow, bright color peeking out of crevasses and angles. High above and to the north the caldera's craggy walls stretch for the sky. Dragons tend to cluster around the entrance to the living cavern in the far southwest corner of the Istan bowl, or along the southern wall where other entrances lead to the infirmary and inner caverns. The bowl continues off to the northwest, stretching nearly half a mile past the queen's ledges and hatching caverns to the corrals at the tip of the bowl.
A green and a brown race for the ground, the riders on their back whooping with laughter. She touches down near the living caverns a second before he does, arches her neck and looks smug for her achievement. On her back T'mic, still laughing, unstraps and slides to the ground, bounces a little for his landing. "So's this mean you owe me drinks now?" he calls over to P'draig, proud as punch.
Zelieth cracks an eyelid at the arriving dragons. Some girls are *sleeping* thanks! Hmph. She rustles her wings, and curls back up, pretending to sleep once more.
P'draig can't quite stop lauging as Jekzith hits the ground that half a wingbeat behind and warbles brightly in spite of the loss. Apparently the brown had fun with that race. His rider unclips and bounces to the ground chuckling still. "Sure, happy to pick up the tab any time really," Paddy claims as he stretches arms above his head then walks over to join T'mic.
"Think I'll slip -you- my extra drinks," Mic grins, moving to join P'draig and giving Zelieth a nod as they pass. "What with you wanting to be loopy around the edges and all." He nods first toward one wide cavern entrance, then another, smaller. "So what first? Bath or food?"
Dragon> To Jekzith, Aath coos, << You were -almost- fast enough. >>
"There you go," P'draig answers laughingly and nods towards the caverns. "Drink, dinner, bath," the brownrider decides and tucks hands into pockets for the amble across the small space of Bowl.
Dragon> To Aath, Jekzith doesn't seem bothered by the loss and stretches his wings a little as the riders move away. << We could fly down to the beach unless you'd rather stay here? >>
Dragon> To Jekzith, Aath would drape appealingly, if there was anything for her to drape over. << I would like that very much. Later we could swim. >>
Dragon> To Aath, Jekzith gleams the thought of warm sand and the two of them snuggled up watching the sunset over towards her. << Yes. When they come to take our straps off again. >> That last perhaps meant as a funny.
"Drinks, dinner, bath," Mic repeats as he falls into step beside the taller man. "Sounds good to me. Have they said anything to you yet about what wing you'll fly with?"
Dragon> To Aath, Jekzith casts bright lights that make those gems shimmer and places a few marching up the line of her muzzle. << Yes. Because wet straps aren't any fun. >> And brown wings spread wide to lift him off towards the beach.
"Find out soon," P'draig says with a little nod. "C'mon. I'm /thirsty/ after moving all that furniture!" he declares, stride lengthening just a little.
Living Cavern, Ista Weyr(#300RJ)
The spacious living cavern is almost always filled with residents and visitors to the Weyr. No matter whether someone is just arriving for a meal or leaving just after having one, the hustle and bustle within the cavern is nearly constant. Tables of all sizes with accompanying chairs are spread out to fill out the enormous space. To one side of the cavern lies a lengthy buffet area where the food is available at all times.
A wide passage to the north leads out to the bowl while another to the southeast leads down toward the lower caverns. Double-hinged doors stands at the entrance of the kitchen and every time the doors open and close from the kitchen, the smell of food being made wafts into the living cavern.
Already bustling, the Living Caverns is full of the usual crowd: Mostly hungry people looking for, and finding, food. Balinne, balancing bubblies on her arm and a juice in her hand, has already been successful at the finding of food. Now, it's the finding of a table. As a group clears out, she attacks the seat, plopping herself into it possessively before another rear might steal it. "Yes, I'm fine," she says to the odd looks given to her.
T'mic's caught up to P'draig by the time they enter the living cavern, and Mic takes the lead in cutting through the dinnertime crowd with the ease of long familiarity. Meals found, the two men head over to find a chair, and Mic nods at the few empty spots remaining beside Balinne. "Hey," he says with an engaging grin, a hand on the back of one chair, "You mind company? How's Zelieth?"
P'draig only smiles as T'mic takes the lead and threads after him nimbly enough. He winds up with a nice tall glass of water, a well-laden plate to his name as he dogs Mic's heels again towards that table. "Good evening," he greets Zelieth's rider with a polite nod.
"Have a seat," offers Balinne, kicking out a chair. She's already got a bite of bubbly in her mouth, a bit of raspberry filling clinging to the corner of her mouth. "Her?" she asks with a smirk. "As she always is. Prickly and full of herself. Which means, thankfully, no..." and she lifts a finger off her bubbly to point skywards. "Not for another seven or so. Oh. Good evening," she returns, smiling at P'draig.
Mic yanks out his chair, nods P'draig into the kicked out one. "No...? /Oh/. She's not proddy." Grinning for his understanding, he jerks his head from brownrider to Balinne and back. "'Ve you two met? Paddy, s'Balinne, green Zelith's. She helped me a lot when I was a weyrling. Balinne, P'draig, Jekzith's."
P'draig leans to set plate and glass down, then grabs the back of the kicked out chair to angle it better for occupation. Sitting and pulling the chair up to the table he grins at the upwards-finger gesture and nods. "Sounds like that's a relief. Prickly though, tough to deal with on a regular basis?" ANd Paddy extends a hand across the table to Balinne. "Brown Jekzith," P'draig elaborates with a grin up towards T'mic. "Formerly of Fort, just transferred in."
P'draig leans to set plate and glass down, then grabs the back of the kicked out chair to angle it better for occupation. Sitting and pulling the chair up to the table he grins at the upwards-finger gesture and nods. "Sounds like that's a relief. Prickly though, tough to deal with on a regular basis?" ANd Paddy extends a hand across the table to Balinne. "Brown Jekzith," P'draig elaborates with a grin up towards T'mic. "Formerly of Fort, just transferred in. Well met, Balinne."
"Yes," says Balinne, mildly amused at T'mic's bluntness. "And it is," she agrees with P'draig. "I have never grown used to her personality change, or mine." But Balinne offers just a shrug for that thought, and takes another bite of her bubbly, delighted. Mmm. "Bit more than *just* Zelieth's, now, 'Mic," says she, wiggling her shoulder to give emphasis to the knot there. "And did you?" she asks of the brownrider, amused. "Well. Welcome to Ista! And well met. I hope the lack of snow does not disturb you."
Mic grins back, unabashed, "Yeah, but by the time I got out, 'green Zelieth's, Belior's wingleader', my food would've been cold." Which, since he didn't say that, means that it isn't. Or something. It doesn't stop him from digging in a fork. "Think it's going to be the heat that bothers him more, Bali," he says, grinning sideways at the brownrider. "I know I'm not going to miss the snow, anyway."
P'draig chuckles at T'mic's rejoinder and winks across at Balinne. "At least he has his priorities straight?" the brownrider jokes and nudges his chair in a little closer to the table. "Thanks for the welcome," he replies to her last. "I'm from the Reaches originally so I might yet miss the snow and the heat does get to me a little. I pretty much lived on the beach when Jekzith flew Nalaieth a few turns ago."
Balinne just shakes her head and grins at T'mic. "Well, I'm a casual sort. Suppose I just like to show off a little." She glances at her own knot, grins, and goes back to her bubbly. Another bite, and a wipe of her hand across her mouth. "Did he? I may yet remember that, though my head's a bit fuzzy with clutching records. Too much room is used up with wing rosters." She grins. And it's only a little hop *Between*, now that we're back in the interval. Personally," and she bobs her head at T'mic, "I'm with him. Never could figure out why people voluntarily lived with snow."
"Jekzith and Nalaieth," Mic chimes in. "Eileyth's clutch sire - my first helping the Weyrlingmaster. Remember?" Whether she does or not he only shrugs again, leans in to sotto-voice to her. "He /says/ it's pretty."
"Show off huh?" P'draig teases Balinne a little, though it's in a friendly manner. "New to the wingleader spot?" he asks her casually. "Belated congratulations?" And then a nod. "He did. As Mic says, Eileyth and Kajrath's clutch. Was here for a few months because Nalaieth was very keen to have Jekzith's company on the Sands. One of Ista's wettest summers apparently too. Fungus everywhere." He makes a face. "Still, it /is/ usually pretty here. Me I'm used to cold, snow and ice at least part of the turn."
"Sorry," she offers T'mic apologetically. Balinne just grins, and gives her shoulder another satisfied little shake. "Not new. Few months, at least. But I am still enjoying the perks." She drops the rest of her bubbly, licks her fingers, and reaches for her glass of juice. "Pretty? Oh, sure, I'll agree that it's pretty to look at. But the bite of wind and the cold snow... no thanks. Though our humidity isn't much better." She makes a small face before taking a sip. "Should I send my sympathy to Jekzith?" she asks curiously. "A bit belated, to be sure. Poor thing. Zelieth's winners usually aren't too keen with her lasting affections. Might hold true for Nalaieth's."
T'mic leans back, satisfied, and has a swallow from his glass. "Better you than me," he says with a nod to Bali's knot. "Yeah, I remember that summer. That was the mold, wasn't it? Bunch of people got sick?" He glances at P'draig like the brownrider would remember, shrugs at the other greenrider again. "Nothing wrong with the humidity. Makes people not want to move and take lots of baths. Go swimming a lot. How's that a bad thing?" Another grin for her and he glances back at the brownrider, laughing. "Never heard him complain about her, then or since. So... he's all right with it?"
"Well congratulations anyway if it's bringing the good perks your way," P'draig says to Balinne with a smile and then pays some attention to getting some of his food into his mouth and down into his stomach. "At least you can wear more sweaters when it's cold. The humid heat, all you can do is lie around and sweat. That's what I don't like. So when I was here during all that, I spent most of the day down at the beach if I could." Paddy's head shakes, though he doesn't speak right away, chewing through another mouthful of food. "No no, they've stayed good friends."
"Good friends," repeats Balinne, mildly amused. "I suppose the same could be said for Zelieth and Kintryth, though it's not him catching her that forged that bond. Odd as it might be." She grins, and sets her glass down. "True," she agrees, "There is a limit to taking things off before you hit skin, and indecency." She grins. "But there is always swimming, as T'mic says. Mold?" A faintly reminiscing look. "Ah. I might remember the Turn, though not the incident. Hatchings. They all sort of run together unless I'm part of the Weyrlingmater's team."
"Or Aath and Sulizath," T'mic chimes in, "Though she hasn't been bothering him as much lately. And there's nothing indecent about skin." Of course he wouldn't think so. "So Bali - you'll have to embarrass me sometime, and tell Paddy about what I was like as a weyrling. I've told him some, but I don't think he believes me."
"They liked flying together even after," P'draig says with a grin. "And they've talked from time to time, since. Though not as often in the last little while between one thing and another." He nods agreement with Balinne about skin. "Exactly. Not that I'm shy, mind you, but sometimes people get offended by the whole naked thing and then if you're still boiling, you can't exactly take your skin off." The brownrider sneaks a look over at T"mic and laughs. "Won't turn down the chance for a story, but I /do/ believe you, Mic."
Paige and a tall brownrider make their way into the cavern from the bowl; both are chatting amiably, even if the former keeps giving the latter apologetic looks between comments. Both wear knots distinctly not Istan; she's from Fort and he's from High Reaches, but one of the kitchen staff maintaining the buffet table seems to know the man well enough, cheerily waving them over. "Tha's the girl y'keep mentionin'?" Paige can be heard saying as they head in the Istan's direction, not a little puzzled. Whatever answer her companion makes, it causes her to make a face at him, an arm reaching out to give him a good nudge in the other woman's direction. While they chat and laugh a good deal, the greenrider veers instead for acquiring a mug of something to drink, posture finally relaxing, just a tad. Of course, finding a seat is another matter entirely.
Balinne grins. "Ah. I do still remember that. Amusing. My first time as an Assistant Weyrlingmaster, and I've got them," and she flicks her fingers at T'mic, to indicate dragonrider and green, "To deal with. Amusing. But stories will have to wait. I've hides to tend to." She slides out of her seat, grabs her last bubbly, and grins around. "Enjoy your dinner boys, and welcome to Ista, again, P'draig."
"Then they won't be as embarrassing as they could be," T'mic tosses back, grinning. "--Oh, you're heading out? Night, Balinne, and clear skies. Regards to Zelieth." As she stands his eyes drift past her to the foreign pair; he nudges P'draig with an elbow and stands. "Isn't that Paige?" He doesn't wait for an answer but waves an arm and calls, "Paige! Hey, Paige! Over here!"
"Then I'm sure I'll be asking sometime," P'draig tells Balinne and nods as she rises. "Thanks, Balinne. Clear skies," he offers over as she departs. Paddy is duly distracted by T'mic's nudge, eyes focusing on Paige and he nods. "Yeah, it is and he joins T'mic in hailing the Fortian greenrider, chair pushed back and he stands to wave in her direction. "Paige!"
Paige may beam as she catches sight of T'mic's wave and hastens over to his table, but the look she gives P'draig positively glows. "S'great t'see y'all, " she greets happily, tipping a glance toward one of the free seats available. "Ain' no one sittin' here, I hope?" Up at the buffet table, her companion's finally managed to persuade his friend to step away for a minute, but the young woman is no longer where he left her; expression caught somewhere between a frown and a smirk once he spots her, sees where she's gone, he turns back to his rather engaging company.
"It's all yours," the Istan greenrider assures her as he settles back into his own chair. "S'nice to see you again, Paige. You and Tiasheth coming for a visit? And who's your friend?" The nod he dips toward the food tables and the brownrider left behind is vague but meaningful, as are the enquiring lift of eyebrows. "Planning on spending the night?"
P'draig moves around the table a little to intercept the Fortian greenrider and without the slightest trace of hesitation, bends down to offer her a kiss. "Of course, please sit with us?" he says with eager enthusiasm and goes so far as to pull out the chair for her. T'mic gets a brief roll of eyes ceilingward, though his expression is fond. "Just got everything moved up to the weyr a little while ago, we were taking a break," he explains to the Fortian greenrider.
Cheeks pinking pleasedly for both the shared kiss and the chair the brownrider draws out for her, Paige settles in at their table, giving T'mic a grin that's half amused, half sheepish. "Y'could say tha', " she replies for the visit, corners of her mouth twitching at all of his inquiries. "Oh, he ain' m'friend, s'too silly fer tha'. Tha's m'brother, I'gand, Khavoth's. We - visited him earlier after duties and he figured I might like t'meet this newest girl o'his." Slight emphasis on newest; it's quite possible that her brother changes women like socks. Her face pinks further at that last one, though, a shy smile aimed at Paddy. "Ain' y'all still a'gettin' stuff settled in?" Not quite an answer.
Mic echoes, "I'gand," and sits a little higher in his chair as though that will help him spot the Reachian rider any easier. Alas for him, there's no I'gand to be seen, so he settles back with a grin for first the other greenrider, then P'draig. "Yup. Got the big stuff moved in, decided to come down here for - how'd you put it, Paddy? Drinks, dinner, and a bath. Only we're doing the dinner part first. Paige, you want to stick around for the rest of it? --Drinks, I mean. Your brother, too. We were going to raid something out of stores. You're both welcome to come up, see the place."
"That's your brother? I'll have to go over and say hello," P'draig says smile still bright for Paige as he resumes his own seat. "And his friend if she sticks around," the brownrider tacks on, something like amusement flashing in his eyes. "Just my stuff and Palia's. I only brought the couch from my weyr at Fort," P'draig explains with a sudden increase of color in his cheeks as well as he looks between the two greenriders, only he's still smiling widely too. "You're more than welcome to stay, as long as you'd like, Paige," Paddy adds more softly, looking up towards her with a nod to echo what T'mic just said.
"Oh, y'wouldn' mind?" Paige asks, smile dimpling. "Could use a nice spot o'tea, why not." More shyly, for the invitation to see their weyr: "I'd love t'see it." There's something mighty interesting to be found on the rim of her mug when Paddy brings up the couch, but her smile doesn't lessen - on the contrary, one side lifts a tad higher. Meanwhile, I'gand eliminates the need for P'draig to head over; here he comes, giggling blonde in tow. "/There/ y'are, lil sis, " he says lightly, offering both of the other male riders an affable, "I'gand, brown Khavoth's." And if his gaze lingers just a bit longer on the face of Jekzith's rider (memorizing it?), it slides away soon enough to smile indulgently at this newest girl of his. "Paige, wanted ya t'meet Edana 'fore we headed out fer the evenin'." After the two women exchange greetings, the brownrider's eyebrows lift slightly at his sister; she, in turn, gives her head the tiniest shake 'no.' If he has other plans, she certainly won't keep him.
"--Ah," Mic says delicately, eyes laughing as he looks back at Paddy. "Not tea. But I'm sure we could find something like it." But there's I'gand and his blonde, and if I'gand is going to be studying P'draig's face, T'mic will study his. "Well met, I'gand. Edana." They each get a nod in turn before Mic slides back in his chair, half of his mouth mightily amused by something. "We're heading back to my - our weyr soon; you two want to join us for drinks?"
"Well mostly I was after the water first, but then I was um, aiming to get a little tipsy," P'draig confesses with a laugh for T'mic's expression. P'draig stands to reach across and shake hands with I'gand. "Well met I'gand, Paige has told me much about you. I'm from the Reaches originally, grew up there," he tells the brownrider then nods Edana's way as well. "Well met, Fort's -- I mean, Ista's duties," he adds with a little shake of his head. Paddy sits again and has a healthy swig of water from his glass.
Paige gives a small, "Oh, " in realization. Those kinds of drinks. "Maybe a few sips here and there o'whatever y'find, " she says then, smile threatening to twitch into a giggle as she observes the interactions between the men. I'gand shakes P'draig's hand, studying him a moment longer with his sister's eyes. Here's the man and he knows where he can be found. Mission accomplished. "Heard nothin' but good thin's, " he admits at last, appearing unsurprised by the rest of the other brownrider's introduction. "And tha'. Y'ever up 'Reaches way and wanna share a drink, y'lemme know." Or he'll ask him to drinks anyway, that tone implies, however friendly. There's a glance shared with Edana at T'mic's offer before he adds, "Oh, uh - thank ya fer the offer, but we were jus' on our way out fer some drinks and a nice walk on the beach, ourselves. Istan hospitality's awful nice, I gotta say." With Paige and Edana both going pink at /that/, albeit for rather different reasons, the High Reacher makes his farewells ("Nice meetin' ya, P'draig. Safe flight back, Paige") and slings an arm about his merry companion's shoulders, steering for the bowl.
"It's a nice beach, clear skies," T'mic agrees with twitching lips, waits until I'gand and friend are out of earshot before he leans, smiling, over the table to his companions. "There's a man who had his eye on you, Paddy. I may as well not have been in the room! Good thing you treat his little sister so well, huh? So what's the word, Paige? Going to come up for drinks, or what?"
"Will do, I'gand. The Snowasis is a really nice place," P'draig says with easy sociability. "Well met and clear skies," he offers to I'gand and Edana as they move off. "Sounds like a nice plan for the evening, hm? I've got the one more run to do back to Fort for Palia's stuff, but that could wait 'til morning," Paddy goes on, leaning back in his seat again. He bursts out lauging for T'mic's blunt quip and shrugs. "Of course he was looking out for Paige," the brownrider says, laid-back, but he sneaks his hand over Paige's way, looking to take one of hers gently. "Always will treat you well too," he promises her then reaches over for Mic's hand in turn. "Both of you." The expression on his face slips from merry to serious, though there's still happiness aplenty to be found there.
Paige almost chokes on her drink at T'mic's comments, a hand lifting to her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle her giggles. "He's jus' awful keen on makin' sure he knows who Paddy is, " she corrects, amused. "I - wouldn' have talked t'him so soon, but m'aunt showed up after y'left, " a glance for P'draig. Her smile softens as he takes her hand, gaze adoring. "I know y'will, " murmurs she, abashed but happily so.
T'mic rolls his eyes at the pair of them and, still smiling, gets to his feet. "I'm going for the baths," he tells them fondly. "You can come with me or not. But if I need to take extra time getting clean, let Aath know, huh?" He lays a quick kiss on the brownrider's knuckles, reaches across the table to rest a hand lightly on their joined ones. "Paige, you're welcome to visit any time. Paddy, I'll see you a little later." A nod for them both to share and he saunters away from the table toward one of the inner tunnels, whistling jauntily.
There's a nod of understanding about Paige's aunt and then Paddy's looking over Mic's way with a hint of surprise, followed by a nod. "Oh, sure," Paddy says agreeably for T'mic's request and smiles sunnily at both greenriders again. The brownrider scoots his chair around a little so he's closer to Paige, spends the next little while talking with her quietly and finishing up his meal. There's an invitation extended again to meet up for those drinks in a little bit, then P'draig too heads in the direction of those baths. He did, after all, spend much of the afternoon moving furniture.
Paige's chin ducks with a little blush for Mic's implication, though it tips up again to offer him a smile, thankful. "See ya, " she says softly as he departs, turning back to P'draig with a wider smile as he scoots around to sit closer to her. While they converse and he eats, she finishes up whatever's in her mug, finally murmuring an agreement for the invitation; they both asked so nicely, how can she refuse? And while the men get clean, she quietly goes to fix herself a little plate, a prelude for the tiniest of drinks that she later allows herself after the party adjourns to the weyr.
When:
Where: Bowl/Living Cavern, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy and Mic head down for a drink and a meal in the living caverns before hitting the baths. They bump into Balinne, introductions are made and then Paige turns up with her older brother who gives P'draig several long searching looks of the 'you better be good to my sister' variety.
Southeast Bowl, Ista Weyr
Even in darkness, the wide bowl glows softly, lit by twinkling stars and available moonlight. Despite the hard-packed ground and constant traffic, Ista's ever-present greenery still makes a valiant attempt to grow, bright color peeking out of crevasses and angles. High above and to the north the caldera's craggy walls stretch for the sky. Dragons tend to cluster around the entrance to the living cavern in the far southwest corner of the Istan bowl, or along the southern wall where other entrances lead to the infirmary and inner caverns. The bowl continues off to the northwest, stretching nearly half a mile past the queen's ledges and hatching caverns to the corrals at the tip of the bowl.
A green and a brown race for the ground, the riders on their back whooping with laughter. She touches down near the living caverns a second before he does, arches her neck and looks smug for her achievement. On her back T'mic, still laughing, unstraps and slides to the ground, bounces a little for his landing. "So's this mean you owe me drinks now?" he calls over to P'draig, proud as punch.
Zelieth cracks an eyelid at the arriving dragons. Some girls are *sleeping* thanks! Hmph. She rustles her wings, and curls back up, pretending to sleep once more.
P'draig can't quite stop lauging as Jekzith hits the ground that half a wingbeat behind and warbles brightly in spite of the loss. Apparently the brown had fun with that race. His rider unclips and bounces to the ground chuckling still. "Sure, happy to pick up the tab any time really," Paddy claims as he stretches arms above his head then walks over to join T'mic.
"Think I'll slip -you- my extra drinks," Mic grins, moving to join P'draig and giving Zelieth a nod as they pass. "What with you wanting to be loopy around the edges and all." He nods first toward one wide cavern entrance, then another, smaller. "So what first? Bath or food?"
Dragon> To Jekzith, Aath coos, << You were -almost- fast enough. >>
"There you go," P'draig answers laughingly and nods towards the caverns. "Drink, dinner, bath," the brownrider decides and tucks hands into pockets for the amble across the small space of Bowl.
Dragon> To Aath, Jekzith doesn't seem bothered by the loss and stretches his wings a little as the riders move away. << We could fly down to the beach unless you'd rather stay here? >>
Dragon> To Jekzith, Aath would drape appealingly, if there was anything for her to drape over. << I would like that very much. Later we could swim. >>
Dragon> To Aath, Jekzith gleams the thought of warm sand and the two of them snuggled up watching the sunset over towards her. << Yes. When they come to take our straps off again. >> That last perhaps meant as a funny.
"Drinks, dinner, bath," Mic repeats as he falls into step beside the taller man. "Sounds good to me. Have they said anything to you yet about what wing you'll fly with?"
Dragon> To Aath, Jekzith casts bright lights that make those gems shimmer and places a few marching up the line of her muzzle. << Yes. Because wet straps aren't any fun. >> And brown wings spread wide to lift him off towards the beach.
"Find out soon," P'draig says with a little nod. "C'mon. I'm /thirsty/ after moving all that furniture!" he declares, stride lengthening just a little.
Living Cavern, Ista Weyr(#300RJ)
The spacious living cavern is almost always filled with residents and visitors to the Weyr. No matter whether someone is just arriving for a meal or leaving just after having one, the hustle and bustle within the cavern is nearly constant. Tables of all sizes with accompanying chairs are spread out to fill out the enormous space. To one side of the cavern lies a lengthy buffet area where the food is available at all times.
A wide passage to the north leads out to the bowl while another to the southeast leads down toward the lower caverns. Double-hinged doors stands at the entrance of the kitchen and every time the doors open and close from the kitchen, the smell of food being made wafts into the living cavern.
Already bustling, the Living Caverns is full of the usual crowd: Mostly hungry people looking for, and finding, food. Balinne, balancing bubblies on her arm and a juice in her hand, has already been successful at the finding of food. Now, it's the finding of a table. As a group clears out, she attacks the seat, plopping herself into it possessively before another rear might steal it. "Yes, I'm fine," she says to the odd looks given to her.
T'mic's caught up to P'draig by the time they enter the living cavern, and Mic takes the lead in cutting through the dinnertime crowd with the ease of long familiarity. Meals found, the two men head over to find a chair, and Mic nods at the few empty spots remaining beside Balinne. "Hey," he says with an engaging grin, a hand on the back of one chair, "You mind company? How's Zelieth?"
P'draig only smiles as T'mic takes the lead and threads after him nimbly enough. He winds up with a nice tall glass of water, a well-laden plate to his name as he dogs Mic's heels again towards that table. "Good evening," he greets Zelieth's rider with a polite nod.
"Have a seat," offers Balinne, kicking out a chair. She's already got a bite of bubbly in her mouth, a bit of raspberry filling clinging to the corner of her mouth. "Her?" she asks with a smirk. "As she always is. Prickly and full of herself. Which means, thankfully, no..." and she lifts a finger off her bubbly to point skywards. "Not for another seven or so. Oh. Good evening," she returns, smiling at P'draig.
Mic yanks out his chair, nods P'draig into the kicked out one. "No...? /Oh/. She's not proddy." Grinning for his understanding, he jerks his head from brownrider to Balinne and back. "'Ve you two met? Paddy, s'Balinne, green Zelith's. She helped me a lot when I was a weyrling. Balinne, P'draig, Jekzith's."
P'draig leans to set plate and glass down, then grabs the back of the kicked out chair to angle it better for occupation. Sitting and pulling the chair up to the table he grins at the upwards-finger gesture and nods. "Sounds like that's a relief. Prickly though, tough to deal with on a regular basis?" ANd Paddy extends a hand across the table to Balinne. "Brown Jekzith," P'draig elaborates with a grin up towards T'mic. "Formerly of Fort, just transferred in."
P'draig leans to set plate and glass down, then grabs the back of the kicked out chair to angle it better for occupation. Sitting and pulling the chair up to the table he grins at the upwards-finger gesture and nods. "Sounds like that's a relief. Prickly though, tough to deal with on a regular basis?" ANd Paddy extends a hand across the table to Balinne. "Brown Jekzith," P'draig elaborates with a grin up towards T'mic. "Formerly of Fort, just transferred in. Well met, Balinne."
"Yes," says Balinne, mildly amused at T'mic's bluntness. "And it is," she agrees with P'draig. "I have never grown used to her personality change, or mine." But Balinne offers just a shrug for that thought, and takes another bite of her bubbly, delighted. Mmm. "Bit more than *just* Zelieth's, now, 'Mic," says she, wiggling her shoulder to give emphasis to the knot there. "And did you?" she asks of the brownrider, amused. "Well. Welcome to Ista! And well met. I hope the lack of snow does not disturb you."
Mic grins back, unabashed, "Yeah, but by the time I got out, 'green Zelieth's, Belior's wingleader', my food would've been cold." Which, since he didn't say that, means that it isn't. Or something. It doesn't stop him from digging in a fork. "Think it's going to be the heat that bothers him more, Bali," he says, grinning sideways at the brownrider. "I know I'm not going to miss the snow, anyway."
P'draig chuckles at T'mic's rejoinder and winks across at Balinne. "At least he has his priorities straight?" the brownrider jokes and nudges his chair in a little closer to the table. "Thanks for the welcome," he replies to her last. "I'm from the Reaches originally so I might yet miss the snow and the heat does get to me a little. I pretty much lived on the beach when Jekzith flew Nalaieth a few turns ago."
Balinne just shakes her head and grins at T'mic. "Well, I'm a casual sort. Suppose I just like to show off a little." She glances at her own knot, grins, and goes back to her bubbly. Another bite, and a wipe of her hand across her mouth. "Did he? I may yet remember that, though my head's a bit fuzzy with clutching records. Too much room is used up with wing rosters." She grins. And it's only a little hop *Between*, now that we're back in the interval. Personally," and she bobs her head at T'mic, "I'm with him. Never could figure out why people voluntarily lived with snow."
"Jekzith and Nalaieth," Mic chimes in. "Eileyth's clutch sire - my first helping the Weyrlingmaster. Remember?" Whether she does or not he only shrugs again, leans in to sotto-voice to her. "He /says/ it's pretty."
"Show off huh?" P'draig teases Balinne a little, though it's in a friendly manner. "New to the wingleader spot?" he asks her casually. "Belated congratulations?" And then a nod. "He did. As Mic says, Eileyth and Kajrath's clutch. Was here for a few months because Nalaieth was very keen to have Jekzith's company on the Sands. One of Ista's wettest summers apparently too. Fungus everywhere." He makes a face. "Still, it /is/ usually pretty here. Me I'm used to cold, snow and ice at least part of the turn."
"Sorry," she offers T'mic apologetically. Balinne just grins, and gives her shoulder another satisfied little shake. "Not new. Few months, at least. But I am still enjoying the perks." She drops the rest of her bubbly, licks her fingers, and reaches for her glass of juice. "Pretty? Oh, sure, I'll agree that it's pretty to look at. But the bite of wind and the cold snow... no thanks. Though our humidity isn't much better." She makes a small face before taking a sip. "Should I send my sympathy to Jekzith?" she asks curiously. "A bit belated, to be sure. Poor thing. Zelieth's winners usually aren't too keen with her lasting affections. Might hold true for Nalaieth's."
T'mic leans back, satisfied, and has a swallow from his glass. "Better you than me," he says with a nod to Bali's knot. "Yeah, I remember that summer. That was the mold, wasn't it? Bunch of people got sick?" He glances at P'draig like the brownrider would remember, shrugs at the other greenrider again. "Nothing wrong with the humidity. Makes people not want to move and take lots of baths. Go swimming a lot. How's that a bad thing?" Another grin for her and he glances back at the brownrider, laughing. "Never heard him complain about her, then or since. So... he's all right with it?"
"Well congratulations anyway if it's bringing the good perks your way," P'draig says to Balinne with a smile and then pays some attention to getting some of his food into his mouth and down into his stomach. "At least you can wear more sweaters when it's cold. The humid heat, all you can do is lie around and sweat. That's what I don't like. So when I was here during all that, I spent most of the day down at the beach if I could." Paddy's head shakes, though he doesn't speak right away, chewing through another mouthful of food. "No no, they've stayed good friends."
"Good friends," repeats Balinne, mildly amused. "I suppose the same could be said for Zelieth and Kintryth, though it's not him catching her that forged that bond. Odd as it might be." She grins, and sets her glass down. "True," she agrees, "There is a limit to taking things off before you hit skin, and indecency." She grins. "But there is always swimming, as T'mic says. Mold?" A faintly reminiscing look. "Ah. I might remember the Turn, though not the incident. Hatchings. They all sort of run together unless I'm part of the Weyrlingmater's team."
"Or Aath and Sulizath," T'mic chimes in, "Though she hasn't been bothering him as much lately. And there's nothing indecent about skin." Of course he wouldn't think so. "So Bali - you'll have to embarrass me sometime, and tell Paddy about what I was like as a weyrling. I've told him some, but I don't think he believes me."
"They liked flying together even after," P'draig says with a grin. "And they've talked from time to time, since. Though not as often in the last little while between one thing and another." He nods agreement with Balinne about skin. "Exactly. Not that I'm shy, mind you, but sometimes people get offended by the whole naked thing and then if you're still boiling, you can't exactly take your skin off." The brownrider sneaks a look over at T"mic and laughs. "Won't turn down the chance for a story, but I /do/ believe you, Mic."
Paige and a tall brownrider make their way into the cavern from the bowl; both are chatting amiably, even if the former keeps giving the latter apologetic looks between comments. Both wear knots distinctly not Istan; she's from Fort and he's from High Reaches, but one of the kitchen staff maintaining the buffet table seems to know the man well enough, cheerily waving them over. "Tha's the girl y'keep mentionin'?" Paige can be heard saying as they head in the Istan's direction, not a little puzzled. Whatever answer her companion makes, it causes her to make a face at him, an arm reaching out to give him a good nudge in the other woman's direction. While they chat and laugh a good deal, the greenrider veers instead for acquiring a mug of something to drink, posture finally relaxing, just a tad. Of course, finding a seat is another matter entirely.
Balinne grins. "Ah. I do still remember that. Amusing. My first time as an Assistant Weyrlingmaster, and I've got them," and she flicks her fingers at T'mic, to indicate dragonrider and green, "To deal with. Amusing. But stories will have to wait. I've hides to tend to." She slides out of her seat, grabs her last bubbly, and grins around. "Enjoy your dinner boys, and welcome to Ista, again, P'draig."
"Then they won't be as embarrassing as they could be," T'mic tosses back, grinning. "--Oh, you're heading out? Night, Balinne, and clear skies. Regards to Zelieth." As she stands his eyes drift past her to the foreign pair; he nudges P'draig with an elbow and stands. "Isn't that Paige?" He doesn't wait for an answer but waves an arm and calls, "Paige! Hey, Paige! Over here!"
"Then I'm sure I'll be asking sometime," P'draig tells Balinne and nods as she rises. "Thanks, Balinne. Clear skies," he offers over as she departs. Paddy is duly distracted by T'mic's nudge, eyes focusing on Paige and he nods. "Yeah, it is and he joins T'mic in hailing the Fortian greenrider, chair pushed back and he stands to wave in her direction. "Paige!"
Paige may beam as she catches sight of T'mic's wave and hastens over to his table, but the look she gives P'draig positively glows. "S'great t'see y'all, " she greets happily, tipping a glance toward one of the free seats available. "Ain' no one sittin' here, I hope?" Up at the buffet table, her companion's finally managed to persuade his friend to step away for a minute, but the young woman is no longer where he left her; expression caught somewhere between a frown and a smirk once he spots her, sees where she's gone, he turns back to his rather engaging company.
"It's all yours," the Istan greenrider assures her as he settles back into his own chair. "S'nice to see you again, Paige. You and Tiasheth coming for a visit? And who's your friend?" The nod he dips toward the food tables and the brownrider left behind is vague but meaningful, as are the enquiring lift of eyebrows. "Planning on spending the night?"
P'draig moves around the table a little to intercept the Fortian greenrider and without the slightest trace of hesitation, bends down to offer her a kiss. "Of course, please sit with us?" he says with eager enthusiasm and goes so far as to pull out the chair for her. T'mic gets a brief roll of eyes ceilingward, though his expression is fond. "Just got everything moved up to the weyr a little while ago, we were taking a break," he explains to the Fortian greenrider.
Cheeks pinking pleasedly for both the shared kiss and the chair the brownrider draws out for her, Paige settles in at their table, giving T'mic a grin that's half amused, half sheepish. "Y'could say tha', " she replies for the visit, corners of her mouth twitching at all of his inquiries. "Oh, he ain' m'friend, s'too silly fer tha'. Tha's m'brother, I'gand, Khavoth's. We - visited him earlier after duties and he figured I might like t'meet this newest girl o'his." Slight emphasis on newest; it's quite possible that her brother changes women like socks. Her face pinks further at that last one, though, a shy smile aimed at Paddy. "Ain' y'all still a'gettin' stuff settled in?" Not quite an answer.
Mic echoes, "I'gand," and sits a little higher in his chair as though that will help him spot the Reachian rider any easier. Alas for him, there's no I'gand to be seen, so he settles back with a grin for first the other greenrider, then P'draig. "Yup. Got the big stuff moved in, decided to come down here for - how'd you put it, Paddy? Drinks, dinner, and a bath. Only we're doing the dinner part first. Paige, you want to stick around for the rest of it? --Drinks, I mean. Your brother, too. We were going to raid something out of stores. You're both welcome to come up, see the place."
"That's your brother? I'll have to go over and say hello," P'draig says smile still bright for Paige as he resumes his own seat. "And his friend if she sticks around," the brownrider tacks on, something like amusement flashing in his eyes. "Just my stuff and Palia's. I only brought the couch from my weyr at Fort," P'draig explains with a sudden increase of color in his cheeks as well as he looks between the two greenriders, only he's still smiling widely too. "You're more than welcome to stay, as long as you'd like, Paige," Paddy adds more softly, looking up towards her with a nod to echo what T'mic just said.
"Oh, y'wouldn' mind?" Paige asks, smile dimpling. "Could use a nice spot o'tea, why not." More shyly, for the invitation to see their weyr: "I'd love t'see it." There's something mighty interesting to be found on the rim of her mug when Paddy brings up the couch, but her smile doesn't lessen - on the contrary, one side lifts a tad higher. Meanwhile, I'gand eliminates the need for P'draig to head over; here he comes, giggling blonde in tow. "/There/ y'are, lil sis, " he says lightly, offering both of the other male riders an affable, "I'gand, brown Khavoth's." And if his gaze lingers just a bit longer on the face of Jekzith's rider (memorizing it?), it slides away soon enough to smile indulgently at this newest girl of his. "Paige, wanted ya t'meet Edana 'fore we headed out fer the evenin'." After the two women exchange greetings, the brownrider's eyebrows lift slightly at his sister; she, in turn, gives her head the tiniest shake 'no.' If he has other plans, she certainly won't keep him.
"--Ah," Mic says delicately, eyes laughing as he looks back at Paddy. "Not tea. But I'm sure we could find something like it." But there's I'gand and his blonde, and if I'gand is going to be studying P'draig's face, T'mic will study his. "Well met, I'gand. Edana." They each get a nod in turn before Mic slides back in his chair, half of his mouth mightily amused by something. "We're heading back to my - our weyr soon; you two want to join us for drinks?"
"Well mostly I was after the water first, but then I was um, aiming to get a little tipsy," P'draig confesses with a laugh for T'mic's expression. P'draig stands to reach across and shake hands with I'gand. "Well met I'gand, Paige has told me much about you. I'm from the Reaches originally, grew up there," he tells the brownrider then nods Edana's way as well. "Well met, Fort's -- I mean, Ista's duties," he adds with a little shake of his head. Paddy sits again and has a healthy swig of water from his glass.
Paige gives a small, "Oh, " in realization. Those kinds of drinks. "Maybe a few sips here and there o'whatever y'find, " she says then, smile threatening to twitch into a giggle as she observes the interactions between the men. I'gand shakes P'draig's hand, studying him a moment longer with his sister's eyes. Here's the man and he knows where he can be found. Mission accomplished. "Heard nothin' but good thin's, " he admits at last, appearing unsurprised by the rest of the other brownrider's introduction. "And tha'. Y'ever up 'Reaches way and wanna share a drink, y'lemme know." Or he'll ask him to drinks anyway, that tone implies, however friendly. There's a glance shared with Edana at T'mic's offer before he adds, "Oh, uh - thank ya fer the offer, but we were jus' on our way out fer some drinks and a nice walk on the beach, ourselves. Istan hospitality's awful nice, I gotta say." With Paige and Edana both going pink at /that/, albeit for rather different reasons, the High Reacher makes his farewells ("Nice meetin' ya, P'draig. Safe flight back, Paige") and slings an arm about his merry companion's shoulders, steering for the bowl.
"It's a nice beach, clear skies," T'mic agrees with twitching lips, waits until I'gand and friend are out of earshot before he leans, smiling, over the table to his companions. "There's a man who had his eye on you, Paddy. I may as well not have been in the room! Good thing you treat his little sister so well, huh? So what's the word, Paige? Going to come up for drinks, or what?"
"Will do, I'gand. The Snowasis is a really nice place," P'draig says with easy sociability. "Well met and clear skies," he offers to I'gand and Edana as they move off. "Sounds like a nice plan for the evening, hm? I've got the one more run to do back to Fort for Palia's stuff, but that could wait 'til morning," Paddy goes on, leaning back in his seat again. He bursts out lauging for T'mic's blunt quip and shrugs. "Of course he was looking out for Paige," the brownrider says, laid-back, but he sneaks his hand over Paige's way, looking to take one of hers gently. "Always will treat you well too," he promises her then reaches over for Mic's hand in turn. "Both of you." The expression on his face slips from merry to serious, though there's still happiness aplenty to be found there.
Paige almost chokes on her drink at T'mic's comments, a hand lifting to her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle her giggles. "He's jus' awful keen on makin' sure he knows who Paddy is, " she corrects, amused. "I - wouldn' have talked t'him so soon, but m'aunt showed up after y'left, " a glance for P'draig. Her smile softens as he takes her hand, gaze adoring. "I know y'will, " murmurs she, abashed but happily so.
T'mic rolls his eyes at the pair of them and, still smiling, gets to his feet. "I'm going for the baths," he tells them fondly. "You can come with me or not. But if I need to take extra time getting clean, let Aath know, huh?" He lays a quick kiss on the brownrider's knuckles, reaches across the table to rest a hand lightly on their joined ones. "Paige, you're welcome to visit any time. Paddy, I'll see you a little later." A nod for them both to share and he saunters away from the table toward one of the inner tunnels, whistling jauntily.
There's a nod of understanding about Paige's aunt and then Paddy's looking over Mic's way with a hint of surprise, followed by a nod. "Oh, sure," Paddy says agreeably for T'mic's request and smiles sunnily at both greenriders again. The brownrider scoots his chair around a little so he's closer to Paige, spends the next little while talking with her quietly and finishing up his meal. There's an invitation extended again to meet up for those drinks in a little bit, then P'draig too heads in the direction of those baths. He did, after all, spend much of the afternoon moving furniture.
Paige's chin ducks with a little blush for Mic's implication, though it tips up again to offer him a smile, thankful. "See ya, " she says softly as he departs, turning back to P'draig with a wider smile as he scoots around to sit closer to her. While they converse and he eats, she finishes up whatever's in her mug, finally murmuring an agreement for the invitation; they both asked so nicely, how can she refuse? And while the men get clean, she quietly goes to fix herself a little plate, a prelude for the tiniest of drinks that she later allows herself after the party adjourns to the weyr.