Log: Ista's Weyrling Move Up
Who: P'draig, T'ace, E'rik, Selience, T'mic, Izarit, V'lano, Griere, R'klen, Caitlyn, Noemie
When: Evening, day 21, month 10, turn 13 of the 10th Interval
Where: Beach, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy attends Ista's celebration for the newly minted riders, hears some interesting conversations and presents homemade fruit truffles as a gift to the former Weyrlings of Jekzith and Nalaieth's clutch.
P'draig walks down the high plateau, and arrives down on the beach after long minutes of hiking.
T'ace raises an eyebrow at E'rik's words and looks to Seliene, then T'mic, then hmms softly, "I dunno...maybe. I think she'd be kinda crazy though...that T'mic is kinda weird." He replys, voice just as low as his friends to be kept generally between the two of them. He blinks then and looks to E'rik, "I think ours have more in common then color then...Eldenth may be mostly aloof, but when it comes to flaming and thread, he did really good." He says, then glances towards the water, "Yes, you are brother." He says aloud, though obviously it's to the dragon a good distance away, still in the water. Another shake of the head and T'ace sips from his juice, turning his attention back to those in the group, "It's weird...we're gonna be full riders soon. I wonder what that's gonna be like...Oh!" He says, turning his gaze down to his friend, "How's yer weyr? I gotta see it sometime."
Agreeable to the suggestion, Izarit swapped her glass to one hand and then offering her arm pointedly to the Weyrleader, since he's been so mannerful already. "I'm working on it," she notes of moving, nose wrinkling. "But it's so big, my weyr! Well, perhaps not big itself, but bigger than anything I've had for myself before, and hard to decorate because of it. And I'm going to need help moving furniture around, of course," she adds with a sigh, a shake of her head as she moves to start walking. "It's very pretty, though, the view and the location and--oh, Seliene, evening," she greets the other girl, with a quick smile as the greenrider approaches.
"Pretend y'do, hmm? Diplomacy is key. Lookit V'lano." She tips her glass towards the socializing Weyrleader, leaning up so that she's not so dwarfed by R'klen. "Would y'believe he's a wallflower. Shy as anything. True story, that." She takes another sip of the wine, her gaze shifting beyond V'lano and to her lifemate, who is taking care to settle himself so that not even water could get between him and Aath. Fadra's response is to sigh so heavily into her wine that the liquid ripples.
E'rik didn't think Seliene was close enough to overhear his quiet words to T'ace so he doesn't see the eyerolling he receives from her as his attention has moved elsewhere. Focusing back on his friend he shrugs. "T'mic is a bit...odd." he agrees readily enough. Of course he's always been uncomfortable around the assistant Weyrlingmaster. He offers a big grin. "Yeah, Seith did great. He's a quick learner, perhaps a bit too fast since he likes to think he knows something before he knows it." he chuckles. "I know! Full riders...oh! HEh. You should come check it out after this. It's really neat!" Seith offers an apologetic croon towards Caitlyn after she gets hit with sand from his tail.
Seliene grins a bit at Izarit, glancing over at E'rik and T'ace once more. She seems like she might say something but eventually just turns her face back toward the brownrider. "Got my weyr just a bit ago. How about you?"
"Don't think of it as a crowd," Griere says, utterly ignoring all the salute-fumbling. "You're not talking to everyone at once. Just Fadra and myself at the moment. Maybe someone else later on." She sips her wine again, mostly to hide a smirk for the Weyrlingmaster's tale of V'lano and his supposed shyness. When she's done, she picks up again to tell R'klen, "Tonight is your night after all. You have nothing to worry about."
Caitlyn would be surprsied at Fadra's words if she could overheard them, but she's with V'lano's little group, now - the woman smirking at Seith's croon - then giving him a little wave of forgiveness as she passes him. The bluerider just listens to the conversation, for now - simply smiling at the Weyrleader and Izzy as she drinks.
P'draig slides a little as he reaches the bottom of the trail down from the plateau. Jekzith is nowhere in sight, presumably up above in the Weyr somewhere. His rider catches his balance and proceeds carefully across the sand into the throng, a bound parcel tucked under his arm. He pauses just at the edges of the crowd, scanning for Weyrleader or Weyrwoman. "Congratulations to all of you!" he remarks to a former Weyrling in passing, before he spots Griere next to tall Rook and heads that way through the shifting tide of people. "Fort's duties, Weyrwoman. Rook! Congratulations!"
T'mic lets himself be hauled. "Weyrleader," he says again, adding, "Izarit," this time instead of the rest of the titles. Then he stops up his mouth with more wine - useful stuff, that.
"We do have some gorgeous weyrs to offer." V'lano's elbow sets itself at Izarit's side; his forearm aligns beneath her hand. If the distant Weyrlingmaster's words hold truth, nothing he does over here on this part of the beach reflects it. "Well, let's see. I might still have the rig I used to load up Volath when I moved here from - " But here's Seliene and T'mic, and Caitlyn not far after. The weyrleader nods to Seliene and then T'mic, says, "Good evening, and congratulations to you both," then tucks a glance into the corners of his eyes for the wingleader. One brow raises.
R'klen furrows his brows and shakes his head, staring over at Izarit and V'lano thoughtfully. "No way, not how he appears to be shmoosing. He's just good at playing shy when it suits 'im, I bet," the man states, not ready to believe Fadra at all. At the sigh, he turns back to look at her, concern on his face. "Is...something the matter, ma'am?" he asks, pouring himself another glass of red wine. "Beggin' your pardon, Weyrwoman, but your 'n the Weyrlingmaster aren't exactly just everyday sorts," he notes. "It doesn't feel like my day," he continues, rolling his shoulders in a lazy shrug. And then there were three. R'klen salutes P'draig, smiling crookedly. "Evenin' and thanks, sir," he says with at least a little more energy.
Seliene hears a familiar voice and her head turns automatically toward it. Her eyes light up and her smile broadens as she spies P'draig filtering in through the crowd. With a quick sip from her glass, she lifts her hand and waves in his direction, trying to get his attention. "P'draig! Over here!"
"The other day, finally," says Izarit, as she sets her hand to the Weyrleader's arm. "You'll have to come see it; it's beautiful. Lonely, but very beautiful. Which I suppose counts for something, at least, yes?" She glances from Seliene to V'lano, one brow raising slightly. "A rig?" she echoes the bronzerider then, before taking another sip of the drink he brought her. "That might be useful, if Kajrath will agree. And saying I have good furniture to make it worthwhile. You'll have to let me see it, this rig of yours, at any rate."
"Well then they'd be good ta have in the same wing, right? Cause they're just the same, learning and everything." T'ace says, grinning a bit more. "Oh, yeah, I'll have ta come see it. It's weird having our own places now, isn't it..." He says, sighing softly at the thought. Eldenth, for his part, watches what ensues between Caitlyn and Seith and, taking in a snout full of water he meanders up the shore the short ways to the other brown and kindly sprays it over his clutchsibs head...then stands there looking non-chalant. Yeah, he dumped water on Seith. So what?
E'rik lowers his voice even more so that they are not overheard. "A bunch of other weyrlings too complained to me that T'mic always gave Seliene extra attention and let her slack off on her chores too." gossips the younger brownrider. Perhaps the wine's affecting him some? His glass is empty after all. Still though he's careful to speak quietly and the general hum of the other conversations should mask his words from anyone else who's not standing right beside him to hear. He continues, flitting from subject to subject easily while they wait for..well for weyrlings to be tapped he supposes. "There's a few different...levels to my weyr. And it came with a really cool table and some matching chairs. And there's little nooks in the walls, perfect for a bunch of glows and for my two firelizards to sleep in. Of course they'll probably keep sleeping curled up with Seith. I'm thinking of getting a hammock to sleep in though." he admits. "The sleeping area's floor isn't all too even." he doesn't yet notice P'draig amongst all those on the beach. "Is there any food anywhere?" he asks, craning his neck to peek towards the tables.
Mic echoes, "Congratulations?" with a frown for V'lano. "What for, sir?" An eyebrow's arched at Izzy's groping, but then Seliene yells and Mic turns to see the Fortian brownrider. "Well."
Dragon> Volath senses that Kintryth slithers his mists into being with a pitter-pattered, << Mine says not to worry. >> A pause, then, << She is simply escaping Aerianth's, and listening to the news about the transfers. >> Seliene's call has the Istan bluerider looking over her shoulder, then giving a quick wave to the approaching P'draig before slipping her eyes back to Izzy and company.
"I'm," But Griere just smiles for R'klen's take on his current companions. Flattery is flattery and she'll take it. She turns with a polite and ready smile, a hostess' smile, for P'draig's appearance. "Ista's duties," she offers. "You came to see Jekzith's fine offspring on their auspicious day?"
Caitlyn smiles quietly at V'lano, shaking her head a little as she slowly relaxes again. Seliene's call has the Istan bluerider looking over her shoulder, then giving a quick wave to the approaching P'draig before slipping her eyes back to Izzy and company.
"It most certainly does count for something," V'lano replies Izarit, his head tipped just a little her way, gaze slipping back to that side and away from Caitlyn. Something the brownrider's said has the weyrleader's eyebrows sliding ever higher, his mouth smiling such that the brackets around it are deep, emphasizing those bits of moustache in the corners. "Oh, well. You're welcome to see it, of course, if I can find it." His eyes fairly dance. "But should Kajrath be unwilling, perhaps I could press Volath into service. Just to help you get moved. Surely your beautiful weyr will feel less lonely once it has things inside." Beat. Levelly, to T'mic: "Presumably -her- graduation merits -you- some congratulation, T'mic?" Twinkle.
"Insufferable dragon o'mine. That's all. I wish he could've picked a green with a girl rider." She makes a face as R'klen continues on, her own nose drawing up in disdain. "Nay e'eryday sorts. Clearly." P'draig gets a silent greeting, a raise of the glass. Her mouth twitches into a brief smile, but not much more.
"Weyrlingmaster, congratulations as well," P'draig nods his head slightly as he spots Fadra nearby. "I'm sure all the new riders will do you and Ista credit." He returns R'klen's salute very correctly and gives him a nod. "Hope you're doing well, happy to be mustering up, yeah?" The Fortian brownrider returns Griere's hostess smile with a broad and sincerely bright one of his own. "Yes indeed, Weyrwoman, yes indeed. It's a happy day all around, isn't it?" Seliene's loud greeting and waving distract him momentarily and he looks around, searching out the greenrider and finally spots her near V'lano and Izarit and returns her wave and Caitlyn's before turning his attention back to his present companions.
Seliene grins, turning back to Izarit and the others around her. "Sorry...where was I? Oh! My weyr! Izzy you should see it! It's gorgeous. We'll have to go into the stores and pick out furnishings together. Once I get things the way I want them, we can put on that party we were talking about."
Suddenly Seith's got a who mouthful of water dumped on him, which wake him up completely to say the least. Lucky though he's really too big to go chasing Eldenth around the beach so he nudges the other brown with his tail and comments, quietly, to him.
Mic turns back to V'lano without so much as a finger-twinkle P'draig's way. "Nah, probably not," he confesses, not sounding terribly broken up about it. "She and Eileyth'll want space of their own? It's nice I don't have to worry about her so much anymore, though." He scants a half-grin sidelong at the other greenrider.
T'ace looks to his friend and leans down to hear better, grinning a bit, "I wouldn't be surprised either." He says just as quietly in return, then tsks and shakes his head slightly before looking down at E'rik's glass and chuckling ever so slightly, "It looks like ya ran outta something ta drink." He offers as insight, then looks around at the mention of food, "Uh...I dunno. Maybe..." He says, then blinks and looks at E'rik, "Wait, different levels? That's kinda weird. And an uneven floor fer sleeping?"
"I," says Izarit, with a nod toward V'lano, and a lift of her glass in honor of his words, "suspect you just might be on to something there, sir. Nothing like too much empty space to make a girl lonely--I'm sure Volath could fix that right up, though. Kajrath isn't terribly reliable on getting actual /work/ done, you undersatnd." Her shoulders lift slightly, and noting P'draig, she flashes a quick smile toward his group before turning back to Seliene. T'mic is thoroughly ignored in the process, discussion of furnishings apparently more interesting. "We will, and I plan to see if my family can help me out any. We might be able to get you something, discounted...? We are getting back in the business again, finally," she says proudly.
Caitlyn chortles at V'lano's observation about T'mic, turning wry eyes on the (now former) assistant weyrlingmaster, nodding her agreement with the Weyrleader. Cait mouths an 'oh' at T'mic's words, then smiling lightly at him and Seli. "No matter, I'm glad for you, Seli. Congratulations to you." A lift of her wine, and another sip is downed. If Cait keeps this up, she'll likely be slurring her words in no time. "Congrats, Izzy," is quickly added, followed by the usual drink.
Seliene aims a playful elbow into Mic's side. "Behave yourself," she mutters to her former weyrmate. You know our ledge is always going to be open to you." She raises her glass toward the other greenrider. "And thanks for worrying about me. I know it was hard...with everything..." Her eyes light up at the word 'discount'. "Oh, that would be /so/ sweet, Izzy!"
E'rik wrinkles his, at both his empty glass and the uneven floor comment. "Yeah, told you it was really kinda odd." he glances towards the tables as if debating getting a refill of wine or not. "Come on, let's get some more drink. Perhaps you can try some too." he says impishly to his friend.
Eldenth rumbles softly at Seith, still appearing quite cool, calm, and collected, not seeming to mind the nudge, words, or even take blame for what happened.
R'klen just shrugs his shoulders helplessly, taking Fadra's advice and doing his best to at least put on a diplomatic face to hide his discomfort. Unfortunately, this effort is successful in stifling his conversation, whether for good or ill. Rook watches the people around him chatter and mingle, face an unreadable mask now as he works on his second glass of wine.
"Here's hoping," Fadra agrees with P'draig, her glance roving over the newly graduated with an eye that suggests she's still sure they can mess it up. Even if none are particularly showing signs, just yet. She gives another glance at Rook when he suddenly falls silent, and shakes her head. "Drink more wine. 'Twill help y'loosen up." Demonstratively, she fills her half-empty glass and steps away. "'Scuse me." And off she goes. To /mingle/.
"Do you need a drink?" Griere asks P'draig, a hand already reaching for a clean glass. "Red or white?" She also slips a thin, if polite smile to R'klen and to both men she adds, "There's food too, of course." Gesturing toward the rest of the table with her own glass. But aside she turns to Fadra, a glance going out towards the dragons... "Sulizath and Aath?" she queries quietly. "Is she due?" That part nearly whispered, considering that it's not really any of her business.
T'mic oofs at that elbow and shifts his wine to the other hand so he can rub at his poor, bruised ribs. "You just want me there to shift furniture!" He dances out of the way of another jab, grinning like an idiot. "Say Weyrleader - I heard there was something up with the wings. You feel like sharing?"
"Sounds kinda weird." T'ace admits, then nods a bit at the mention of more drink, "Yeah, my juice is almost gone..." He lifts the cup to his lips and takes the last final gulp before he stands straighter and nods towards the table of drinks, "Yeah, let's go, although I don't think I'm gonna drink any wine. It made me really...well...it was just strange." He says, then nudges his friend forward to have him lead the way.
P'draig's smile has the barest edge of wryness to it at Fadra's realism but he nods again, politely as she moves off. "Enjoy the celebration, Fadra. And she's got a point, Rook." He winks at the tall redhead then beams at Griere again. "Red, thank you, Weyrwoman. Much appreciated and that looks like a very good spread." His eyebrows twitch a little at mention of "Aath" and "due" but contents himself with turning slightly to take in the rest of the swirling crowd as Fadra moves off.
"Oh, I see," V'lano replies to T'mic, imbuing those few words and a tip of his glass toward the greenrider with an apologetic sympathy he does not go farther to express. Then he turns his quirky smile back on Izarit, echoing what the others have called her: "Izzy?" This, he intones with a certain teasing wonder, brows up. "We'd be happy to help," he tells her in the faux privacy of a sidelong murmur, then indulges in his drink for a moment; T'mic's question is what draws him out of it. "Oh, the wings. Some rebalancing, T'mic, now that our goals are clear."
Seliene makes to give T'mic a playful shove, laughing at him. "Well, if you'd like to volunteer. I helped /you/, after all! I'd even invite you to the party!" She stops her teasing as V'lano speaks to him of more serious matters for the moment, giving her attention to the matter of wings, as well. "Goals, sir?"
"Oh, thank you," Izarit adds to Caitlyn, cheerfully. And to Seliene, she waves off the gratitude, noting, "Discount, not free. But I'm sure we have something you'll love, at any rate, and perhaps I can bargain them down low for you. Usually I'm going higher on our end, but I suppose my skills can be used to other advantage as well." With a tilt of her head, she raises her brows, expression innocent at V'lano's use of her nickname. "Yes?" she answers in return. And then, quieter herself in answer to his murmur, "You're very generous, sir."
Mumbling a nearly unintelligable excuse or farewell, R'klen wanders over toward a group of people that have his attention. Coming over to where Izarit, Seliene, T'mic and V'lano...among others are talking. While he's got control of his expressions now, his body language still screams awkward as he skulks there by them.
Whatever Fadra's answer might have been, Griere's expression doesn't show any clues. She sweeps another glance out toward the dragons, then in a bit in the direction of a certain bronzerider chatting with a newly graduated weyrling. Then she turns her attention to the wine, pouring a glass for P'draig and presenting it to him. "One glass of red," she says, still holding the bottle. "Do you need a little more, R'klen?" Though surely if that's white in his glass, she'll be reaching for that bottle and not forcing a mixture on him.
Caitlyn perks up at V'lano's words about rebalancing the Wings, then taking peripheral note of the skulking biped R'klen from the corner of her eyes. Her eyes shift to some of her fellow Dawnsflamers circulating amongst the crowd on the beach, the woman a little surprised to see some of the oldtimers joining the graduation festivities.
Naijath backwings to a landing in a spray of sand.
Naijath has arrived.
Noemie climbs down from Naijath's neck.
Noemie has arrived.
"Generous!" Mic laughs at both Izzy and Seliene, only saving his wine from slopping by dint of some fancy footwork. As he recovers he finds Rook in his sights, and toasts the new bronzerider, words aimed at V'lano. "Here's another one who wants to know about what you're doing with the wings, sir!" How about some peer pressure?
Seliene sips her wine, still working on her first glass. One of her eyebrows rises as R'klen finally makes his way into their little circle. "Gracing us with your presence finally?" she quips at the bronzerider. "Why so anti-social, Rook? We've /graduated/! Try to smile!"
It's only a moment, but from one to the next T'ace is walking with E'rik, and then his friend dissapears off to talk to another group of people that caught his attention, leaving T'ace alone to fend for himself. Sigh. The youth goes back to the drink table by himself and looks over the variety of things there. Juice, wine...should he venture into the alcoholic stuff or stick to the safe things...hmm...
"Oh, it's nothing," V'lano murmurs to the brownrider, "Izzy." The emphasis on the nickname is rich, droll, gentle. "Goals, Seliene," he appends in a brighter, more public tone, and with a gesture of his glass welcomes into listening pretty much anyone within three feet of distance, grinning and shaking his head. "When I came here, Ista had a different purpose. It's not too hard to understand what I mean, I believe. We know our purpose now, and it's always good to make adjustments when we have new riders to help round out the ranks." A tip of a nod to Seliene and Izarit, the latter still beside him, sends glossy curls bobbing along his temples. "It's nothing so big, T'mic. Congratulations, R'klen."
Among those distant, veteran riders from Caitlyn's wing is one vet who's not. Ch'ket, solidly-built and squinty-eyed, is in amidst the Dawnsflamers, his head down, something happening in his hands. Those hands move from his vest to another man's hands; then repeat the motion with another rider.
P'draig accepts the glass from Griere with a smile and watches R'klen 'skulk' off. "Guess some things don't change," he murmurs under his breath, then dredges up another smile for the Weyrwoman, hefting his parcel a little. "Brought some gifts actually, not sure if I should pass them around individually, or give them over into Fadra's good care for distribution."
Again Caitlyn bobs her head in agreement with V'lano's ideas, smiling brightly at the Weyrleader, her gaze then furtively taking in the knots of her fellow Wingmates - some of them pretty new to the fold. Distracted by Seliene and Rook, she misses Ch'ket's own furtive motions.
Izarit, with a smirk, leans over to Seliene to offer the greenrider several quiet words. She mutters to Seliene, "I still say... should go hide... in... to... tonight when... home...." Drawing back, she smirks at Seliene, conspiratorial, before affecting a more dutiful and serious expression to nod her agreement with the Weyrleader.
Noemie has been playing the social butterfly, the stream of riders and former Weyrlings she's stopped to chat with nearly endless. Finally noting that the glass she's been holding in one hand has been drained nearly to the bottom, she makes her way back to the drink table. Finding T'ace there as well, she gives him a grin. "So, how's it feel? Or has it not really sunk in yet?"
Seliene coughs, caught in mid-sip as Izarit whispers to her. She manages a laugh, lifting a hand to wipe her chin. She mutters to Izarit, "... give him a... to... and... him... drunk. Maybe... finally relax with... bottles of Benden... him."
Rook swirls the glass of red wine in his hand, freshly filled up by Griere just as he was setting off. Color has crept into his cheeks now and he puts on a somewhat cheeky grin. "Gimme something more to smile about, hmm?" he teases Seliene before tossing T'mic a curious glance. A look of 'huh?' appears on his face and R'klen shifts glances between T'mic and V'lano. "What'd I wanta know?" he mutters.
"Oh, that's good of you," Griere answers P'draig. "You could surely try to pass them out yourself, if you can find them all. I'm sure they'd appreciate it coming from, as well. A chance to say hello and catch up and all." Ah, the hostess small talk. For all the smoothness of her words and smile, there is something too perfect, too practiced about it all. Her eyes drift again towards V'lano and Izarit, her chin lifting just barely.
The young brown rider looks from the drinks at the table up to the one who speaks to him, and T'ace grins a bit as he spies Noemie, "Hello ma'am." He greets in return, then shrugs slightly, "I dunno, it still doesn't seem like it's right...like I'm a full rider...but I guess I am now. It's just...a little odd." He admits, continuing to grin at Noemie. "Are ya gonna be sad ta not have ta take care of us anymore, ma'am?"
V'lano looks between Seliene, R'klen, and T'mic before turning a somewhat less coy look on Izarit, brows high - as though requesting translation.
On the edge of the loose series of groups that makes up the party, Ch'ket seems to shake a few more hands, each time tucking his own hand back into his vest between, as though his right-hand knuckles suffer from constant chill. Eventually he departs the group, which recloses into a tight circle behind him with a couple of 'spotters' evidently elected to direct the others' attention to this new graduate or that one. Ch'ket winds through the group, his eyes now focused directly on Caitlyn.
"Just a small token from Fort's Weyrlingmaster to Ista's new riders." P'draig manages to come up with more polite formality though he's having to reach a bit more for the words. He tilts the wineglass in his hand up for a long drink and turns to scan the crowd. "Guess I'll start to make my way through then." He holds his arm out to Griere, juggling the parcel out of the way under the same one as his wine is held. "Care to join me, Weyrwoman?"
"Do you think so?" Izarit doesn't bother to lower her voice this time, or hide the speculative expression she turns on R'klen, bluish eyes watching him even when she lifts her own drink for another slow sip. "Scintillating, isn't he," she drawls of the bronzerider, with a glance at her other companions, bemused. "Girl business," she adds, noting V'lano's look and fighting back a smirk then.
R'klen goes home.
R'klen has left.
Arsiloth goes home.
Arsiloth has left.
Noemie laughs as she looks over her choices, settling on the same drink that had filled her glass the first go-round. "You know, I don't think you really have to call me ma'am anymore. Always felt weird, anyway." Grinning, she lifts her glass in a mock-toast to the new rider. "And you are! It'll settle in in a few days, I think. I know it took a few days for me. As for me? I /will/ be sad. But proud to see you all having done so well."
Seliene nods, looking over at R'klen, eyes twinkling a bit. "Oh, I'm pretty sure of it," she assures Izarit. She takes a moment to refill her glass finally, shaking her head as the bronzerider departs. "I swear...one of these days he'll smile and his face will crack."
Caitlyn snickers softly at Izzy's observation about her once and fellow Weyrling, noting, "Positively." And it's then that her roving eyes detect Ch'ket's focus on herself, Cait's features instantly becoming wary. "Here comes trouble..." the bluerider murmurs softly, unconsciously straightening and hardening her short frame to meet whatever the new dawnsflame bronzer has in store for her.
T'mic looks between brownrider and green, eyebrows nearly as high as V'lano's. Izzy's vague explanation gets a snort, if not an understanding one, and then he stiffens, eyes momentarily glazing before he returns to the here-and-now. "Excuse me," he tells his companions, sweeping the group of them a little bow. "I need to... see to something." He heads off into the crowd on a path nearly perpendicular to P'draig's.
Griere grins to P'draig. "Perhaps in a bit. I think I'm going to fix myself a plate," she answers, a free hand held up to delicately refuse his arm. "But do go and enjoy yourself." There's one last smile before she head around the table to do just as she said.
T'ace reaches up to scratch his head at Noemie's words, "Yeah, ya know...it is kinda sad when I think about it...won't get ta cause ya so much trouble anymore." He says teasingly, grinning at the rider before he looks back towards the wine. "Is there any of this that...isn't really strong...ma'am?" He gives Noemie a sideways glance as he says it, then looks back, biting his lip thoughtfully.
P'draig nods at Griere's refusal, placid. "Enjoy your meal, Weyrwoman." With that, the brownrider's off amongst the crowd, stopping briefly to juggles his wineglass and extract a small box from his parcel to offer up to the first of the former Weyrlings he comes across, passing it over, extending a hand to shake in congratulations, then moving away again. His path takes him towards the cluster around the Weyrleader eventually, parcel several small boxes lighter. "Good evening all!" he greets cheerfully as he arrives. "And congratulations!"
"Oh, I see," V'lano replies to Izarit, his voice quite droll now. He crosses his hand over to let a few fingers rest lightly atop her knuckles on his arm and adds, "My favorite kind." He does not fight his smirks; this one plays freely upon his face. It's still there when the time comes to express delight at the Fortian weyrlingmaster's arrival - which he does, wide-eyed and grinning. "P'draig," he says, emphasis on the latter syllable, all thrill to have the brownrider in attendance. "So good you could join us."
"I hope I'm the one responsible," answers Izzy with a laugh for Seliene's words. Then: "Paddy," she greets the other brownrider with a quick grin as he arrives. To V'lano, she adds one quick dry comment--"Oh? I can't say I'm surprised, really."--and then she focuses on the Fortian. "And what did you bring /me/?" she asks, with a raised brow as she observes him.
Ch'ket raises a salute to his new wingleader, though he still wears the badge of Belior - permissible, since he and his fellows moving into Dawnsflame have yet to fly their first drill or duty with Caitlyn's wing. He sidles up to the group in silence, gray eyes flickering over the presents held by the man from Fort, then over the new riders. Though his buddies in the distance look at the graduates and talk about them in obviously appraising manners, the elder bronzer just looks, his expression almost challenging.
Caitlyn gives Ch'ket a most proper salute, even if it's tentative, her eyes searching his boldly, even as she queries him directly, "What's up in that mind of yours, Ch'ket?" No, the bluerider's not in a mood to dance around things tonight, and her slightly nervous gaze catches the bronzerider's buddies circulating amongst the newly Graduated riders. "What's going on there?" she nearly barks at the older man, Cait becoming more irritated, for some reason.
Seliene turns a bit, toward P'draig as he approaches, her hands cupped around her glass. "I keep hoping he'll relax but I'm always disappointed," she finishes, speaking to Izarit. Then, to the Fortian brownrider, she offers a smile and a raised glass. "Evening and Ista's duties, P'draig.
"No, you won't!" Noemie says the words with mock-relief. "You have to be all upstanding ad responsible now. No more excuses!" She turns her head, trying to understand T'ace's question. "Wine that... isn't strong? You don't like it?" A foriegn idea to her, apparently. "Well, I suppose you could mix it with something. One of the fruit juices, maybe. That might actually taste quite good, and make it less strong."
"Thank you Weyrleader, it's a pleasure to be here." P'draig keeps his manners up for now and then grins at Izzy, catching up one of the boxes and passing it to her. "Sweets for the sweet, fruit truffles, three per box, one box per former Weyrling. Made 'em myself." He passes another box to Seliene and shifts the parcel under his arm once more. "Who Rook? Yeah, hopefully he'll get there somdeday. Good to see you both. Excited to be full riders?"
Once the coast is clear, Mic heads back to the wine tables for a refill. He ends up near T'ace and Noemie, and there he lingers, interjecting himself into the conversation with, "Wine's not that strong, but if you wanted something to be starting with, you could always water it."
Seliene looks surprised as P'draig hands her a box - she shifts her wine glass to her non-dominant hand to take it. "Thanks, P'draig." She smiles a bit wistfully and nods in response to his question. "I'm excited to have my own weyr," she replies in all honesty. "Just got it before the party, in fact. I'll have to invite you to come see it once I get it decorated."
T'ace grins back up at Noemie again, "Well...I dunno about that. Not all the time...sometimes I'm gonna have ta, but why should I have ta be that way all the time, huh?" He asks, then turns back to the wine and nods in agreement, "Yeah...put something else in it..." He blinks then and looks at T'mic as he speaks near them, "Oh, Hello sir." He says, then nods, "Yeah...I guess yer right. I can try it then..." He takes some wine and pours it in a cup, then adds some juice to it. He lifts the cup to his lips, then pauses as he hears a familiar, angry voice...and for once not at him. His gaze moves to Caitlyn uncertainly, concern showing in his eyes.
"Perhaps R'klen's more the private type. Doesn't mean he wouldn't enjoy a good celebration," V'lano supposes as an afterthought loosely directed at Seliene, blithe even with the older bronzerider's borderline-confrontation with Caitlyn just next door. He then smirks at Izarit, far too much delight in his dark eyes, and a moment later looks up with even more delight at P'draig. "Oh, that sounds incredible, Weyrlingmaster. I had no idea you made candy. I've always heard it's so difficult - very nice of you to make such a generous gesture for our new riers."
"Truffles?" says Izzy, surprise in her expression as she takes the box. "Oh, thank you--but only three, they'll be eaten before I get home." She does, at least, resist the urge to open it already and eat one. Instead, ignoring Caitlyn's confrontation with Ch'ket herself, in favor of happier things, she tells P'draig, "It's refreshing, not having Fadra breathing down my neck again. Though, my weyr--" her nose wrinkles "--needs a little work. But the Weyrleader," adds the rider, with a glance and smile for V'lano, "offered his--rig, to help fill up my empty space, so at least I can get that taken care of. I'm quite excited about decorating for myself, if not actually having to stay live by myself and so confined inside."
"Not a thing, Wingleader," Ch'ket replies, then makes a show - a very transparent, very intentionally transparent show - of looking perplexed. "Going on where, ma'am?" Emphasis on -ma'am,- the old bronzerider turns, moving slowly, arms crossed to make the most bulk of his shoulders. "Oh, them," he snorts, voice rough and dismissive, grin the same. "Just guessing what young folks we'll be riding for our lives with next, ya know."
Noemie smiles as Mic joins the little cluster by the drinks and nods in agreement. "Right, or just water. But really, you should learn how to drink it. At some point. It's a useful skill." That settled, she turns to her fellow greenrider. "So, how does it feel for you? As kind of surreal as it does for me? Like I told T'ace, I didn't think I'd say this, but I'm a little sad to see them fly the nest, so to speak."
"Don't have to call me 'sir' anymore," Mic begins with a grin that invites Noemie to join in the joke. "And yeah, T'ace, the more you drink, the more you'll be able to drink. Doesn't mean you have to start in on the bronze dragons down at the Sandbar, though." As his eyes flick back from brownrider to green, he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "I dunno. I was just getting -used- to them calling me sir. Guess we're heading back to the wings, right?"
"I know it's not a lasting gift, but, I thought personal was better in this case." P'draig lifts his wineglass then in toast to the newly graduated green and brown riders. "You know where to find me if you want to make a case for more, Izzy," he teases lightly. "Decorating ... yeah, your own space, always a good thing. Next time I come by, maybe I'll be better equipped with house-warming gifts."
Caitlyn is too busy trying to ferret out what the heck Ch'ket it up to to notice T'ace and Izzy casting looks at her. A small frow furrows her brow, expressive features latching on to the bronzerider with intent. "Dragon droppings..." the bluerider growls softly, her jaw squaring - arms crossing over her own chest to match the man's across from her. "You'd better out with it *now*, or..." her words slice off, leaving the threat implicit on the air. "Quit interrupting the Graduation, rider. This night is all for *them.*" Implying that Cait believes Ch'ket and his covey is trying to take that away somehow.
"I know. I never /did/ like Ma'am. So please, just Noemie, T'ace? Or Noe, for that matter. That works too." She grins at both of the riders, then takes a deep drink from her glass. "Right. Start small, and build up from there. Make sure and know your limit. That's the stuff we should really be teaching you as a Weyrling." A grin, and then her eye is caught by someone motioning her to come over. She squints, trying to discern a face. "Who's that? Excuse me, gentlemen. It seems my presence is being requested." And the social butterfly is off once more.
T'ace chuckles and nods to T'mic, temporarily taking his eyes away from Cait and her anger. "Yes'sir, I know...but it's gonna be a little time till I'm used ta not calling you by that." He says, then shrugs, "Sorry." He offers, then sips at the wine/juice mixture, nodding slightly. "Not to bad, but...well, I could never drink to much'a anything like this." He admits to the two riders standing with him. "What's going on..." He says as he hears Caitlyn again, then looks up towards the other two riders, "Excuse me...Something's going on..." And it's Cait, so he's gotta help. He moves away from the two then and towards Caitlyn with an unexpected ease, glass still in his hands.
V'lano only nods as Izarit implies him in having offered assistance via 'rig' in moving things into her new weyr; he lifts his own glass to answer P'draig's unspoken toast, smile bright. So enchanted does he seem in the brownriders both visiting and newly graduated that he's all but unaware - or forcefully ignoring - the business with Ch'ket nearby. "How do you make them, Weyrlingmaster? - The truffles."
Abandoned again, Mic shrugs and drifts off to continue his mingling.
"House-warming?" says Izarit at once, quite brightly. "You have to now, yes. It's the least you can do, after all. And--ooh, yes." The latter, in answer to V'lano question for P'draig, as the new-made brownrider cocks her head slightly, curious herself.
"Really, Wingleader. Nothin' doin'," says Ch'ket, his voice growing into a warning growl - but he knows better and reins in his mood, forcing a thin smile. "What better time to come get a good look at the new blood, right? With 'em all gathered in one place and not directly under the Weyrlingmaster's wing anymore? Come on, give a body a break." He forces the smile into a grin, toothy. "Ain't you supposed to be enjoying yourself like everyone else?"
"It's a mixture of butter, cream and sweetening infused with fruit juices and rolled in powdered sweetening. So not the most complicated candy - no hours of boiling involved." P'draig grins over at the Weyrleader and takes another sip from his glass. "You'll have to tell me what you need Izzy, Sel." He nods as Seliene steps away for a bit and returns his gaze to V'lano and Izarit. "And then I'll see what I can do about chasing something down."
Caitlyn hears that growl in the bronzer's tone, and it only makes her hackles go up further - the woman's eyes boring laser holes into his - her mouth turned into a disagreeable frown that challenges him right back. "*I'm* the one to do the ultimate gleaning - along with the Weyrleader" the bluerider quickly amends in a dark, tight voice - "and you'll *not* go behind my back or over my head." Snarl. She still doesn't notice poor T'ace behind her, and it might behoove the new brownrider well to avoid her in such a foul mood, even if it's not directed at him. "You and your bloody gaggle will *stop* prospecting right now, and that's an *order*." Though Cait doesn't really shout, her words still carry heavy impact. Like a ten ton weight.
"All sorts of things," confirms Izarit, laughing. "You'll have to just see it for yourself, I think. But if you'll excuse me, Paddy, sir, I... see someone I need to talk to," though her gaze strays to Caitlyn and Ch'ket instead, as she reluctantly releases the Weyrleader's arm. She does tell him, as she takes one step back, "Have Volath tell Kajrath whenever you're feel to help us, sir. And Paddy, you owe me a better visit, too, when I'm more moved in. Good night." With a wiggle of her fingers at the two men, she twirls about to disappear into what crowd remains.
V'lano dips a quick little nod to Izarit, his lashes half-lowered. "Of course," pause, "Izzy." Then he raises his head, straightens his shoulders, and pockets his hands. Elbows lazy, stance casual, he gleams a little smile at P'draig. "Now that sounds sweet indeed." The candy. Right?
"There you go," P'draig confirms to Izarit with an answering chuckle. "Enjoy the rest of the party, Izzy." The Fortian shifts his parcel a little and finishes off his wine, nodding over at the Weyrleader. "Try some yourself?" So saying he offers up one of the little boxes to V'lano. "I made a few extra just in case. Good stuff."
T'ace takes another sip of his cup as he stops behind Cait, catching the last tidbit of talk before he inwardly sighs...he's likely to get his head bitten off, but still...The youth moves around Caitlyn and stands between her and the bronze rider, but of course a bit to the side. "Excuse me ma'am, sir. There's no need ta be upset, this is supposed ta be a party and a celebration fer me and the rest of the weyrlings. Please don't argue anymore here." He says, or rather, asks, looking between the two with a smile, but still a serious look...rare for him.
"Wingleader. Please. Riders've been looking at the new pairs and wondering which ones we're going to be flying with since before your daddy's jingles dropped," says Ch'ket - and admirably enough, he says it all lightly, pleasantly, with even a respectful little dip of his chin toward the end. "Believe me, if I were to come up with anything more than empty talk, it'd be my wingleader I bring it to." Here he spares a moment to throw a few eyeball daggers toward V'lano's profile, smile thinner. Back to Caitlyn with a firm nod. "But if you want 'em not to talk, ma'am, maybe best to send 'em home for the night. Threaten an early drill or sommat?"
Ch'ket does spare T'ace a glance. "Absolutely right." Significant look at his wingleader, like he figures Caitlyn should take T'ace's advice.
Caitlyn snaps her forbidding gaze to T'ace's sudden interference, looking as if to snap off a limb with it - a few choice words coming to her lips, too. And then, with a small snap, her features compose themselves, though her eyes still glower. "Well well, it seems a new, full rider needs to call his elders back to their senses." A dark heave of a sigh, and then Cait continues, nodding roughly to T'ace, then levelling a stare at Ch'ket that would burn sand to glass after his words. "This night is for the Graduated, as I said." A somewhat evil smile, curls over her lips, and her forefinger beckons him with her with a gesture that's not to be denied. "Join me, Ch'ket...and all those riders who have...gathered around your banner." What a nice way to put toadying. But his latter comment to T'ace doesn't make it past the woman's ire, drawing from her a step closer to him and the hushed words, "Shut it or lose it." Out on the beach, Kintryth draws himself forth from the waves, adding a low grumble to the air.
Blue eyes flash to the bronzerider that seems to think he's exempt from the youth's remark. "That includes you, sir, by doing as asked by the Wingleader here at least until this is over, if ya'd be so kind." T'ace says, then flashes a brilliant smile before taking a sip of his wine and glancing to Caitlyn. "If you'll excuse me sir, ma'am...I think my cup is empty." And indeed it is, the wine and juice mixture having dissapeared all to quickly, allowing T'ace to turn back and walk towards the table to refill his cup again.
"Oh, I'm such a sucker for - " V'lano plucks the little box from P'draig's hand and immediately goes about getting a candy out from it. "Fruit you said? I go through far too much candied peel here, I have to admit. I always meant to have you come back up to see me so we could share some." There's something of a chortle in his voice. But just before he puts the little tasty tidbit between his lips, it seems all at once his left ear unplugs or something and at once he hears Caitlyn's voice in its worst form, Kintryth's grumble, etcetera. "Wingleader?" One brow raises; his voice is gentle, inquisitive. "T'ace?" But T'ace is already moving off.
P'draig has been persevering in ignoring the loud voices himself and when V'lano takes an interest, the Fortian nods just once. "Enjoy, Weyrleader. I need to pass some more of these out before I head back to Fort. A good evening to you." So saying, Paddy moves off to intercept another Weyrling with a box of sweets, quickly caught up in the swirling crowd.
When: Evening, day 21, month 10, turn 13 of the 10th Interval
Where: Beach, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy attends Ista's celebration for the newly minted riders, hears some interesting conversations and presents homemade fruit truffles as a gift to the former Weyrlings of Jekzith and Nalaieth's clutch.
P'draig walks down the high plateau, and arrives down on the beach after long minutes of hiking.
T'ace raises an eyebrow at E'rik's words and looks to Seliene, then T'mic, then hmms softly, "I dunno...maybe. I think she'd be kinda crazy though...that T'mic is kinda weird." He replys, voice just as low as his friends to be kept generally between the two of them. He blinks then and looks to E'rik, "I think ours have more in common then color then...Eldenth may be mostly aloof, but when it comes to flaming and thread, he did really good." He says, then glances towards the water, "Yes, you are brother." He says aloud, though obviously it's to the dragon a good distance away, still in the water. Another shake of the head and T'ace sips from his juice, turning his attention back to those in the group, "It's weird...we're gonna be full riders soon. I wonder what that's gonna be like...Oh!" He says, turning his gaze down to his friend, "How's yer weyr? I gotta see it sometime."
Agreeable to the suggestion, Izarit swapped her glass to one hand and then offering her arm pointedly to the Weyrleader, since he's been so mannerful already. "I'm working on it," she notes of moving, nose wrinkling. "But it's so big, my weyr! Well, perhaps not big itself, but bigger than anything I've had for myself before, and hard to decorate because of it. And I'm going to need help moving furniture around, of course," she adds with a sigh, a shake of her head as she moves to start walking. "It's very pretty, though, the view and the location and--oh, Seliene, evening," she greets the other girl, with a quick smile as the greenrider approaches.
"Pretend y'do, hmm? Diplomacy is key. Lookit V'lano." She tips her glass towards the socializing Weyrleader, leaning up so that she's not so dwarfed by R'klen. "Would y'believe he's a wallflower. Shy as anything. True story, that." She takes another sip of the wine, her gaze shifting beyond V'lano and to her lifemate, who is taking care to settle himself so that not even water could get between him and Aath. Fadra's response is to sigh so heavily into her wine that the liquid ripples.
E'rik didn't think Seliene was close enough to overhear his quiet words to T'ace so he doesn't see the eyerolling he receives from her as his attention has moved elsewhere. Focusing back on his friend he shrugs. "T'mic is a bit...odd." he agrees readily enough. Of course he's always been uncomfortable around the assistant Weyrlingmaster. He offers a big grin. "Yeah, Seith did great. He's a quick learner, perhaps a bit too fast since he likes to think he knows something before he knows it." he chuckles. "I know! Full riders...oh! HEh. You should come check it out after this. It's really neat!" Seith offers an apologetic croon towards Caitlyn after she gets hit with sand from his tail.
Seliene grins a bit at Izarit, glancing over at E'rik and T'ace once more. She seems like she might say something but eventually just turns her face back toward the brownrider. "Got my weyr just a bit ago. How about you?"
"Don't think of it as a crowd," Griere says, utterly ignoring all the salute-fumbling. "You're not talking to everyone at once. Just Fadra and myself at the moment. Maybe someone else later on." She sips her wine again, mostly to hide a smirk for the Weyrlingmaster's tale of V'lano and his supposed shyness. When she's done, she picks up again to tell R'klen, "Tonight is your night after all. You have nothing to worry about."
Caitlyn would be surprsied at Fadra's words if she could overheard them, but she's with V'lano's little group, now - the woman smirking at Seith's croon - then giving him a little wave of forgiveness as she passes him. The bluerider just listens to the conversation, for now - simply smiling at the Weyrleader and Izzy as she drinks.
P'draig slides a little as he reaches the bottom of the trail down from the plateau. Jekzith is nowhere in sight, presumably up above in the Weyr somewhere. His rider catches his balance and proceeds carefully across the sand into the throng, a bound parcel tucked under his arm. He pauses just at the edges of the crowd, scanning for Weyrleader or Weyrwoman. "Congratulations to all of you!" he remarks to a former Weyrling in passing, before he spots Griere next to tall Rook and heads that way through the shifting tide of people. "Fort's duties, Weyrwoman. Rook! Congratulations!"
T'mic lets himself be hauled. "Weyrleader," he says again, adding, "Izarit," this time instead of the rest of the titles. Then he stops up his mouth with more wine - useful stuff, that.
"We do have some gorgeous weyrs to offer." V'lano's elbow sets itself at Izarit's side; his forearm aligns beneath her hand. If the distant Weyrlingmaster's words hold truth, nothing he does over here on this part of the beach reflects it. "Well, let's see. I might still have the rig I used to load up Volath when I moved here from - " But here's Seliene and T'mic, and Caitlyn not far after. The weyrleader nods to Seliene and then T'mic, says, "Good evening, and congratulations to you both," then tucks a glance into the corners of his eyes for the wingleader. One brow raises.
R'klen furrows his brows and shakes his head, staring over at Izarit and V'lano thoughtfully. "No way, not how he appears to be shmoosing. He's just good at playing shy when it suits 'im, I bet," the man states, not ready to believe Fadra at all. At the sigh, he turns back to look at her, concern on his face. "Is...something the matter, ma'am?" he asks, pouring himself another glass of red wine. "Beggin' your pardon, Weyrwoman, but your 'n the Weyrlingmaster aren't exactly just everyday sorts," he notes. "It doesn't feel like my day," he continues, rolling his shoulders in a lazy shrug. And then there were three. R'klen salutes P'draig, smiling crookedly. "Evenin' and thanks, sir," he says with at least a little more energy.
Seliene hears a familiar voice and her head turns automatically toward it. Her eyes light up and her smile broadens as she spies P'draig filtering in through the crowd. With a quick sip from her glass, she lifts her hand and waves in his direction, trying to get his attention. "P'draig! Over here!"
"The other day, finally," says Izarit, as she sets her hand to the Weyrleader's arm. "You'll have to come see it; it's beautiful. Lonely, but very beautiful. Which I suppose counts for something, at least, yes?" She glances from Seliene to V'lano, one brow raising slightly. "A rig?" she echoes the bronzerider then, before taking another sip of the drink he brought her. "That might be useful, if Kajrath will agree. And saying I have good furniture to make it worthwhile. You'll have to let me see it, this rig of yours, at any rate."
"Well then they'd be good ta have in the same wing, right? Cause they're just the same, learning and everything." T'ace says, grinning a bit more. "Oh, yeah, I'll have ta come see it. It's weird having our own places now, isn't it..." He says, sighing softly at the thought. Eldenth, for his part, watches what ensues between Caitlyn and Seith and, taking in a snout full of water he meanders up the shore the short ways to the other brown and kindly sprays it over his clutchsibs head...then stands there looking non-chalant. Yeah, he dumped water on Seith. So what?
E'rik lowers his voice even more so that they are not overheard. "A bunch of other weyrlings too complained to me that T'mic always gave Seliene extra attention and let her slack off on her chores too." gossips the younger brownrider. Perhaps the wine's affecting him some? His glass is empty after all. Still though he's careful to speak quietly and the general hum of the other conversations should mask his words from anyone else who's not standing right beside him to hear. He continues, flitting from subject to subject easily while they wait for..well for weyrlings to be tapped he supposes. "There's a few different...levels to my weyr. And it came with a really cool table and some matching chairs. And there's little nooks in the walls, perfect for a bunch of glows and for my two firelizards to sleep in. Of course they'll probably keep sleeping curled up with Seith. I'm thinking of getting a hammock to sleep in though." he admits. "The sleeping area's floor isn't all too even." he doesn't yet notice P'draig amongst all those on the beach. "Is there any food anywhere?" he asks, craning his neck to peek towards the tables.
Mic echoes, "Congratulations?" with a frown for V'lano. "What for, sir?" An eyebrow's arched at Izzy's groping, but then Seliene yells and Mic turns to see the Fortian brownrider. "Well."
Dragon> Volath senses that Kintryth slithers his mists into being with a pitter-pattered, << Mine says not to worry. >> A pause, then, << She is simply escaping Aerianth's, and listening to the news about the transfers. >> Seliene's call has the Istan bluerider looking over her shoulder, then giving a quick wave to the approaching P'draig before slipping her eyes back to Izzy and company.
"I'm," But Griere just smiles for R'klen's take on his current companions. Flattery is flattery and she'll take it. She turns with a polite and ready smile, a hostess' smile, for P'draig's appearance. "Ista's duties," she offers. "You came to see Jekzith's fine offspring on their auspicious day?"
Caitlyn smiles quietly at V'lano, shaking her head a little as she slowly relaxes again. Seliene's call has the Istan bluerider looking over her shoulder, then giving a quick wave to the approaching P'draig before slipping her eyes back to Izzy and company.
"It most certainly does count for something," V'lano replies Izarit, his head tipped just a little her way, gaze slipping back to that side and away from Caitlyn. Something the brownrider's said has the weyrleader's eyebrows sliding ever higher, his mouth smiling such that the brackets around it are deep, emphasizing those bits of moustache in the corners. "Oh, well. You're welcome to see it, of course, if I can find it." His eyes fairly dance. "But should Kajrath be unwilling, perhaps I could press Volath into service. Just to help you get moved. Surely your beautiful weyr will feel less lonely once it has things inside." Beat. Levelly, to T'mic: "Presumably -her- graduation merits -you- some congratulation, T'mic?" Twinkle.
"Insufferable dragon o'mine. That's all. I wish he could've picked a green with a girl rider." She makes a face as R'klen continues on, her own nose drawing up in disdain. "Nay e'eryday sorts. Clearly." P'draig gets a silent greeting, a raise of the glass. Her mouth twitches into a brief smile, but not much more.
"Weyrlingmaster, congratulations as well," P'draig nods his head slightly as he spots Fadra nearby. "I'm sure all the new riders will do you and Ista credit." He returns R'klen's salute very correctly and gives him a nod. "Hope you're doing well, happy to be mustering up, yeah?" The Fortian brownrider returns Griere's hostess smile with a broad and sincerely bright one of his own. "Yes indeed, Weyrwoman, yes indeed. It's a happy day all around, isn't it?" Seliene's loud greeting and waving distract him momentarily and he looks around, searching out the greenrider and finally spots her near V'lano and Izarit and returns her wave and Caitlyn's before turning his attention back to his present companions.
Seliene grins, turning back to Izarit and the others around her. "Sorry...where was I? Oh! My weyr! Izzy you should see it! It's gorgeous. We'll have to go into the stores and pick out furnishings together. Once I get things the way I want them, we can put on that party we were talking about."
Suddenly Seith's got a who mouthful of water dumped on him, which wake him up completely to say the least. Lucky though he's really too big to go chasing Eldenth around the beach so he nudges the other brown with his tail and comments, quietly, to him.
Mic turns back to V'lano without so much as a finger-twinkle P'draig's way. "Nah, probably not," he confesses, not sounding terribly broken up about it. "She and Eileyth'll want space of their own? It's nice I don't have to worry about her so much anymore, though." He scants a half-grin sidelong at the other greenrider.
T'ace looks to his friend and leans down to hear better, grinning a bit, "I wouldn't be surprised either." He says just as quietly in return, then tsks and shakes his head slightly before looking down at E'rik's glass and chuckling ever so slightly, "It looks like ya ran outta something ta drink." He offers as insight, then looks around at the mention of food, "Uh...I dunno. Maybe..." He says, then blinks and looks at E'rik, "Wait, different levels? That's kinda weird. And an uneven floor fer sleeping?"
"I," says Izarit, with a nod toward V'lano, and a lift of her glass in honor of his words, "suspect you just might be on to something there, sir. Nothing like too much empty space to make a girl lonely--I'm sure Volath could fix that right up, though. Kajrath isn't terribly reliable on getting actual /work/ done, you undersatnd." Her shoulders lift slightly, and noting P'draig, she flashes a quick smile toward his group before turning back to Seliene. T'mic is thoroughly ignored in the process, discussion of furnishings apparently more interesting. "We will, and I plan to see if my family can help me out any. We might be able to get you something, discounted...? We are getting back in the business again, finally," she says proudly.
Caitlyn chortles at V'lano's observation about T'mic, turning wry eyes on the (now former) assistant weyrlingmaster, nodding her agreement with the Weyrleader. Cait mouths an 'oh' at T'mic's words, then smiling lightly at him and Seli. "No matter, I'm glad for you, Seli. Congratulations to you." A lift of her wine, and another sip is downed. If Cait keeps this up, she'll likely be slurring her words in no time. "Congrats, Izzy," is quickly added, followed by the usual drink.
Seliene aims a playful elbow into Mic's side. "Behave yourself," she mutters to her former weyrmate. You know our ledge is always going to be open to you." She raises her glass toward the other greenrider. "And thanks for worrying about me. I know it was hard...with everything..." Her eyes light up at the word 'discount'. "Oh, that would be /so/ sweet, Izzy!"
E'rik wrinkles his, at both his empty glass and the uneven floor comment. "Yeah, told you it was really kinda odd." he glances towards the tables as if debating getting a refill of wine or not. "Come on, let's get some more drink. Perhaps you can try some too." he says impishly to his friend.
Eldenth rumbles softly at Seith, still appearing quite cool, calm, and collected, not seeming to mind the nudge, words, or even take blame for what happened.
R'klen just shrugs his shoulders helplessly, taking Fadra's advice and doing his best to at least put on a diplomatic face to hide his discomfort. Unfortunately, this effort is successful in stifling his conversation, whether for good or ill. Rook watches the people around him chatter and mingle, face an unreadable mask now as he works on his second glass of wine.
"Here's hoping," Fadra agrees with P'draig, her glance roving over the newly graduated with an eye that suggests she's still sure they can mess it up. Even if none are particularly showing signs, just yet. She gives another glance at Rook when he suddenly falls silent, and shakes her head. "Drink more wine. 'Twill help y'loosen up." Demonstratively, she fills her half-empty glass and steps away. "'Scuse me." And off she goes. To /mingle/.
"Do you need a drink?" Griere asks P'draig, a hand already reaching for a clean glass. "Red or white?" She also slips a thin, if polite smile to R'klen and to both men she adds, "There's food too, of course." Gesturing toward the rest of the table with her own glass. But aside she turns to Fadra, a glance going out towards the dragons... "Sulizath and Aath?" she queries quietly. "Is she due?" That part nearly whispered, considering that it's not really any of her business.
T'mic oofs at that elbow and shifts his wine to the other hand so he can rub at his poor, bruised ribs. "You just want me there to shift furniture!" He dances out of the way of another jab, grinning like an idiot. "Say Weyrleader - I heard there was something up with the wings. You feel like sharing?"
"Sounds kinda weird." T'ace admits, then nods a bit at the mention of more drink, "Yeah, my juice is almost gone..." He lifts the cup to his lips and takes the last final gulp before he stands straighter and nods towards the table of drinks, "Yeah, let's go, although I don't think I'm gonna drink any wine. It made me really...well...it was just strange." He says, then nudges his friend forward to have him lead the way.
P'draig's smile has the barest edge of wryness to it at Fadra's realism but he nods again, politely as she moves off. "Enjoy the celebration, Fadra. And she's got a point, Rook." He winks at the tall redhead then beams at Griere again. "Red, thank you, Weyrwoman. Much appreciated and that looks like a very good spread." His eyebrows twitch a little at mention of "Aath" and "due" but contents himself with turning slightly to take in the rest of the swirling crowd as Fadra moves off.
"Oh, I see," V'lano replies to T'mic, imbuing those few words and a tip of his glass toward the greenrider with an apologetic sympathy he does not go farther to express. Then he turns his quirky smile back on Izarit, echoing what the others have called her: "Izzy?" This, he intones with a certain teasing wonder, brows up. "We'd be happy to help," he tells her in the faux privacy of a sidelong murmur, then indulges in his drink for a moment; T'mic's question is what draws him out of it. "Oh, the wings. Some rebalancing, T'mic, now that our goals are clear."
Seliene makes to give T'mic a playful shove, laughing at him. "Well, if you'd like to volunteer. I helped /you/, after all! I'd even invite you to the party!" She stops her teasing as V'lano speaks to him of more serious matters for the moment, giving her attention to the matter of wings, as well. "Goals, sir?"
"Oh, thank you," Izarit adds to Caitlyn, cheerfully. And to Seliene, she waves off the gratitude, noting, "Discount, not free. But I'm sure we have something you'll love, at any rate, and perhaps I can bargain them down low for you. Usually I'm going higher on our end, but I suppose my skills can be used to other advantage as well." With a tilt of her head, she raises her brows, expression innocent at V'lano's use of her nickname. "Yes?" she answers in return. And then, quieter herself in answer to his murmur, "You're very generous, sir."
Mumbling a nearly unintelligable excuse or farewell, R'klen wanders over toward a group of people that have his attention. Coming over to where Izarit, Seliene, T'mic and V'lano...among others are talking. While he's got control of his expressions now, his body language still screams awkward as he skulks there by them.
Whatever Fadra's answer might have been, Griere's expression doesn't show any clues. She sweeps another glance out toward the dragons, then in a bit in the direction of a certain bronzerider chatting with a newly graduated weyrling. Then she turns her attention to the wine, pouring a glass for P'draig and presenting it to him. "One glass of red," she says, still holding the bottle. "Do you need a little more, R'klen?" Though surely if that's white in his glass, she'll be reaching for that bottle and not forcing a mixture on him.
Caitlyn perks up at V'lano's words about rebalancing the Wings, then taking peripheral note of the skulking biped R'klen from the corner of her eyes. Her eyes shift to some of her fellow Dawnsflamers circulating amongst the crowd on the beach, the woman a little surprised to see some of the oldtimers joining the graduation festivities.
Naijath backwings to a landing in a spray of sand.
Naijath has arrived.
Noemie climbs down from Naijath's neck.
Noemie has arrived.
"Generous!" Mic laughs at both Izzy and Seliene, only saving his wine from slopping by dint of some fancy footwork. As he recovers he finds Rook in his sights, and toasts the new bronzerider, words aimed at V'lano. "Here's another one who wants to know about what you're doing with the wings, sir!" How about some peer pressure?
Seliene sips her wine, still working on her first glass. One of her eyebrows rises as R'klen finally makes his way into their little circle. "Gracing us with your presence finally?" she quips at the bronzerider. "Why so anti-social, Rook? We've /graduated/! Try to smile!"
It's only a moment, but from one to the next T'ace is walking with E'rik, and then his friend dissapears off to talk to another group of people that caught his attention, leaving T'ace alone to fend for himself. Sigh. The youth goes back to the drink table by himself and looks over the variety of things there. Juice, wine...should he venture into the alcoholic stuff or stick to the safe things...hmm...
"Oh, it's nothing," V'lano murmurs to the brownrider, "Izzy." The emphasis on the nickname is rich, droll, gentle. "Goals, Seliene," he appends in a brighter, more public tone, and with a gesture of his glass welcomes into listening pretty much anyone within three feet of distance, grinning and shaking his head. "When I came here, Ista had a different purpose. It's not too hard to understand what I mean, I believe. We know our purpose now, and it's always good to make adjustments when we have new riders to help round out the ranks." A tip of a nod to Seliene and Izarit, the latter still beside him, sends glossy curls bobbing along his temples. "It's nothing so big, T'mic. Congratulations, R'klen."
Among those distant, veteran riders from Caitlyn's wing is one vet who's not. Ch'ket, solidly-built and squinty-eyed, is in amidst the Dawnsflamers, his head down, something happening in his hands. Those hands move from his vest to another man's hands; then repeat the motion with another rider.
P'draig accepts the glass from Griere with a smile and watches R'klen 'skulk' off. "Guess some things don't change," he murmurs under his breath, then dredges up another smile for the Weyrwoman, hefting his parcel a little. "Brought some gifts actually, not sure if I should pass them around individually, or give them over into Fadra's good care for distribution."
Again Caitlyn bobs her head in agreement with V'lano's ideas, smiling brightly at the Weyrleader, her gaze then furtively taking in the knots of her fellow Wingmates - some of them pretty new to the fold. Distracted by Seliene and Rook, she misses Ch'ket's own furtive motions.
Izarit, with a smirk, leans over to Seliene to offer the greenrider several quiet words. She mutters to Seliene, "I still say... should go hide... in... to... tonight when... home...." Drawing back, she smirks at Seliene, conspiratorial, before affecting a more dutiful and serious expression to nod her agreement with the Weyrleader.
Noemie has been playing the social butterfly, the stream of riders and former Weyrlings she's stopped to chat with nearly endless. Finally noting that the glass she's been holding in one hand has been drained nearly to the bottom, she makes her way back to the drink table. Finding T'ace there as well, she gives him a grin. "So, how's it feel? Or has it not really sunk in yet?"
Seliene coughs, caught in mid-sip as Izarit whispers to her. She manages a laugh, lifting a hand to wipe her chin. She mutters to Izarit, "... give him a... to... and... him... drunk. Maybe... finally relax with... bottles of Benden... him."
Rook swirls the glass of red wine in his hand, freshly filled up by Griere just as he was setting off. Color has crept into his cheeks now and he puts on a somewhat cheeky grin. "Gimme something more to smile about, hmm?" he teases Seliene before tossing T'mic a curious glance. A look of 'huh?' appears on his face and R'klen shifts glances between T'mic and V'lano. "What'd I wanta know?" he mutters.
"Oh, that's good of you," Griere answers P'draig. "You could surely try to pass them out yourself, if you can find them all. I'm sure they'd appreciate it coming from, as well. A chance to say hello and catch up and all." Ah, the hostess small talk. For all the smoothness of her words and smile, there is something too perfect, too practiced about it all. Her eyes drift again towards V'lano and Izarit, her chin lifting just barely.
The young brown rider looks from the drinks at the table up to the one who speaks to him, and T'ace grins a bit as he spies Noemie, "Hello ma'am." He greets in return, then shrugs slightly, "I dunno, it still doesn't seem like it's right...like I'm a full rider...but I guess I am now. It's just...a little odd." He admits, continuing to grin at Noemie. "Are ya gonna be sad ta not have ta take care of us anymore, ma'am?"
V'lano looks between Seliene, R'klen, and T'mic before turning a somewhat less coy look on Izarit, brows high - as though requesting translation.
On the edge of the loose series of groups that makes up the party, Ch'ket seems to shake a few more hands, each time tucking his own hand back into his vest between, as though his right-hand knuckles suffer from constant chill. Eventually he departs the group, which recloses into a tight circle behind him with a couple of 'spotters' evidently elected to direct the others' attention to this new graduate or that one. Ch'ket winds through the group, his eyes now focused directly on Caitlyn.
"Just a small token from Fort's Weyrlingmaster to Ista's new riders." P'draig manages to come up with more polite formality though he's having to reach a bit more for the words. He tilts the wineglass in his hand up for a long drink and turns to scan the crowd. "Guess I'll start to make my way through then." He holds his arm out to Griere, juggling the parcel out of the way under the same one as his wine is held. "Care to join me, Weyrwoman?"
"Do you think so?" Izarit doesn't bother to lower her voice this time, or hide the speculative expression she turns on R'klen, bluish eyes watching him even when she lifts her own drink for another slow sip. "Scintillating, isn't he," she drawls of the bronzerider, with a glance at her other companions, bemused. "Girl business," she adds, noting V'lano's look and fighting back a smirk then.
R'klen goes home.
R'klen has left.
Arsiloth goes home.
Arsiloth has left.
Noemie laughs as she looks over her choices, settling on the same drink that had filled her glass the first go-round. "You know, I don't think you really have to call me ma'am anymore. Always felt weird, anyway." Grinning, she lifts her glass in a mock-toast to the new rider. "And you are! It'll settle in in a few days, I think. I know it took a few days for me. As for me? I /will/ be sad. But proud to see you all having done so well."
Seliene nods, looking over at R'klen, eyes twinkling a bit. "Oh, I'm pretty sure of it," she assures Izarit. She takes a moment to refill her glass finally, shaking her head as the bronzerider departs. "I swear...one of these days he'll smile and his face will crack."
Caitlyn snickers softly at Izzy's observation about her once and fellow Weyrling, noting, "Positively." And it's then that her roving eyes detect Ch'ket's focus on herself, Cait's features instantly becoming wary. "Here comes trouble..." the bluerider murmurs softly, unconsciously straightening and hardening her short frame to meet whatever the new dawnsflame bronzer has in store for her.
T'mic looks between brownrider and green, eyebrows nearly as high as V'lano's. Izzy's vague explanation gets a snort, if not an understanding one, and then he stiffens, eyes momentarily glazing before he returns to the here-and-now. "Excuse me," he tells his companions, sweeping the group of them a little bow. "I need to... see to something." He heads off into the crowd on a path nearly perpendicular to P'draig's.
Griere grins to P'draig. "Perhaps in a bit. I think I'm going to fix myself a plate," she answers, a free hand held up to delicately refuse his arm. "But do go and enjoy yourself." There's one last smile before she head around the table to do just as she said.
T'ace reaches up to scratch his head at Noemie's words, "Yeah, ya know...it is kinda sad when I think about it...won't get ta cause ya so much trouble anymore." He says teasingly, grinning at the rider before he looks back towards the wine. "Is there any of this that...isn't really strong...ma'am?" He gives Noemie a sideways glance as he says it, then looks back, biting his lip thoughtfully.
P'draig nods at Griere's refusal, placid. "Enjoy your meal, Weyrwoman." With that, the brownrider's off amongst the crowd, stopping briefly to juggles his wineglass and extract a small box from his parcel to offer up to the first of the former Weyrlings he comes across, passing it over, extending a hand to shake in congratulations, then moving away again. His path takes him towards the cluster around the Weyrleader eventually, parcel several small boxes lighter. "Good evening all!" he greets cheerfully as he arrives. "And congratulations!"
"Oh, I see," V'lano replies to Izarit, his voice quite droll now. He crosses his hand over to let a few fingers rest lightly atop her knuckles on his arm and adds, "My favorite kind." He does not fight his smirks; this one plays freely upon his face. It's still there when the time comes to express delight at the Fortian weyrlingmaster's arrival - which he does, wide-eyed and grinning. "P'draig," he says, emphasis on the latter syllable, all thrill to have the brownrider in attendance. "So good you could join us."
"I hope I'm the one responsible," answers Izzy with a laugh for Seliene's words. Then: "Paddy," she greets the other brownrider with a quick grin as he arrives. To V'lano, she adds one quick dry comment--"Oh? I can't say I'm surprised, really."--and then she focuses on the Fortian. "And what did you bring /me/?" she asks, with a raised brow as she observes him.
Ch'ket raises a salute to his new wingleader, though he still wears the badge of Belior - permissible, since he and his fellows moving into Dawnsflame have yet to fly their first drill or duty with Caitlyn's wing. He sidles up to the group in silence, gray eyes flickering over the presents held by the man from Fort, then over the new riders. Though his buddies in the distance look at the graduates and talk about them in obviously appraising manners, the elder bronzer just looks, his expression almost challenging.
Caitlyn gives Ch'ket a most proper salute, even if it's tentative, her eyes searching his boldly, even as she queries him directly, "What's up in that mind of yours, Ch'ket?" No, the bluerider's not in a mood to dance around things tonight, and her slightly nervous gaze catches the bronzerider's buddies circulating amongst the newly Graduated riders. "What's going on there?" she nearly barks at the older man, Cait becoming more irritated, for some reason.
Seliene turns a bit, toward P'draig as he approaches, her hands cupped around her glass. "I keep hoping he'll relax but I'm always disappointed," she finishes, speaking to Izarit. Then, to the Fortian brownrider, she offers a smile and a raised glass. "Evening and Ista's duties, P'draig.
"No, you won't!" Noemie says the words with mock-relief. "You have to be all upstanding ad responsible now. No more excuses!" She turns her head, trying to understand T'ace's question. "Wine that... isn't strong? You don't like it?" A foriegn idea to her, apparently. "Well, I suppose you could mix it with something. One of the fruit juices, maybe. That might actually taste quite good, and make it less strong."
"Thank you Weyrleader, it's a pleasure to be here." P'draig keeps his manners up for now and then grins at Izzy, catching up one of the boxes and passing it to her. "Sweets for the sweet, fruit truffles, three per box, one box per former Weyrling. Made 'em myself." He passes another box to Seliene and shifts the parcel under his arm once more. "Who Rook? Yeah, hopefully he'll get there somdeday. Good to see you both. Excited to be full riders?"
Once the coast is clear, Mic heads back to the wine tables for a refill. He ends up near T'ace and Noemie, and there he lingers, interjecting himself into the conversation with, "Wine's not that strong, but if you wanted something to be starting with, you could always water it."
Seliene looks surprised as P'draig hands her a box - she shifts her wine glass to her non-dominant hand to take it. "Thanks, P'draig." She smiles a bit wistfully and nods in response to his question. "I'm excited to have my own weyr," she replies in all honesty. "Just got it before the party, in fact. I'll have to invite you to come see it once I get it decorated."
T'ace grins back up at Noemie again, "Well...I dunno about that. Not all the time...sometimes I'm gonna have ta, but why should I have ta be that way all the time, huh?" He asks, then turns back to the wine and nods in agreement, "Yeah...put something else in it..." He blinks then and looks at T'mic as he speaks near them, "Oh, Hello sir." He says, then nods, "Yeah...I guess yer right. I can try it then..." He takes some wine and pours it in a cup, then adds some juice to it. He lifts the cup to his lips, then pauses as he hears a familiar, angry voice...and for once not at him. His gaze moves to Caitlyn uncertainly, concern showing in his eyes.
"Perhaps R'klen's more the private type. Doesn't mean he wouldn't enjoy a good celebration," V'lano supposes as an afterthought loosely directed at Seliene, blithe even with the older bronzerider's borderline-confrontation with Caitlyn just next door. He then smirks at Izarit, far too much delight in his dark eyes, and a moment later looks up with even more delight at P'draig. "Oh, that sounds incredible, Weyrlingmaster. I had no idea you made candy. I've always heard it's so difficult - very nice of you to make such a generous gesture for our new riers."
"Truffles?" says Izzy, surprise in her expression as she takes the box. "Oh, thank you--but only three, they'll be eaten before I get home." She does, at least, resist the urge to open it already and eat one. Instead, ignoring Caitlyn's confrontation with Ch'ket herself, in favor of happier things, she tells P'draig, "It's refreshing, not having Fadra breathing down my neck again. Though, my weyr--" her nose wrinkles "--needs a little work. But the Weyrleader," adds the rider, with a glance and smile for V'lano, "offered his--rig, to help fill up my empty space, so at least I can get that taken care of. I'm quite excited about decorating for myself, if not actually having to stay live by myself and so confined inside."
"Not a thing, Wingleader," Ch'ket replies, then makes a show - a very transparent, very intentionally transparent show - of looking perplexed. "Going on where, ma'am?" Emphasis on -ma'am,- the old bronzerider turns, moving slowly, arms crossed to make the most bulk of his shoulders. "Oh, them," he snorts, voice rough and dismissive, grin the same. "Just guessing what young folks we'll be riding for our lives with next, ya know."
Noemie smiles as Mic joins the little cluster by the drinks and nods in agreement. "Right, or just water. But really, you should learn how to drink it. At some point. It's a useful skill." That settled, she turns to her fellow greenrider. "So, how does it feel for you? As kind of surreal as it does for me? Like I told T'ace, I didn't think I'd say this, but I'm a little sad to see them fly the nest, so to speak."
"Don't have to call me 'sir' anymore," Mic begins with a grin that invites Noemie to join in the joke. "And yeah, T'ace, the more you drink, the more you'll be able to drink. Doesn't mean you have to start in on the bronze dragons down at the Sandbar, though." As his eyes flick back from brownrider to green, he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "I dunno. I was just getting -used- to them calling me sir. Guess we're heading back to the wings, right?"
"I know it's not a lasting gift, but, I thought personal was better in this case." P'draig lifts his wineglass then in toast to the newly graduated green and brown riders. "You know where to find me if you want to make a case for more, Izzy," he teases lightly. "Decorating ... yeah, your own space, always a good thing. Next time I come by, maybe I'll be better equipped with house-warming gifts."
Caitlyn is too busy trying to ferret out what the heck Ch'ket it up to to notice T'ace and Izzy casting looks at her. A small frow furrows her brow, expressive features latching on to the bronzerider with intent. "Dragon droppings..." the bluerider growls softly, her jaw squaring - arms crossing over her own chest to match the man's across from her. "You'd better out with it *now*, or..." her words slice off, leaving the threat implicit on the air. "Quit interrupting the Graduation, rider. This night is all for *them.*" Implying that Cait believes Ch'ket and his covey is trying to take that away somehow.
"I know. I never /did/ like Ma'am. So please, just Noemie, T'ace? Or Noe, for that matter. That works too." She grins at both of the riders, then takes a deep drink from her glass. "Right. Start small, and build up from there. Make sure and know your limit. That's the stuff we should really be teaching you as a Weyrling." A grin, and then her eye is caught by someone motioning her to come over. She squints, trying to discern a face. "Who's that? Excuse me, gentlemen. It seems my presence is being requested." And the social butterfly is off once more.
T'ace chuckles and nods to T'mic, temporarily taking his eyes away from Cait and her anger. "Yes'sir, I know...but it's gonna be a little time till I'm used ta not calling you by that." He says, then shrugs, "Sorry." He offers, then sips at the wine/juice mixture, nodding slightly. "Not to bad, but...well, I could never drink to much'a anything like this." He admits to the two riders standing with him. "What's going on..." He says as he hears Caitlyn again, then looks up towards the other two riders, "Excuse me...Something's going on..." And it's Cait, so he's gotta help. He moves away from the two then and towards Caitlyn with an unexpected ease, glass still in his hands.
V'lano only nods as Izarit implies him in having offered assistance via 'rig' in moving things into her new weyr; he lifts his own glass to answer P'draig's unspoken toast, smile bright. So enchanted does he seem in the brownriders both visiting and newly graduated that he's all but unaware - or forcefully ignoring - the business with Ch'ket nearby. "How do you make them, Weyrlingmaster? - The truffles."
Abandoned again, Mic shrugs and drifts off to continue his mingling.
"House-warming?" says Izarit at once, quite brightly. "You have to now, yes. It's the least you can do, after all. And--ooh, yes." The latter, in answer to V'lano question for P'draig, as the new-made brownrider cocks her head slightly, curious herself.
"Really, Wingleader. Nothin' doin'," says Ch'ket, his voice growing into a warning growl - but he knows better and reins in his mood, forcing a thin smile. "What better time to come get a good look at the new blood, right? With 'em all gathered in one place and not directly under the Weyrlingmaster's wing anymore? Come on, give a body a break." He forces the smile into a grin, toothy. "Ain't you supposed to be enjoying yourself like everyone else?"
"It's a mixture of butter, cream and sweetening infused with fruit juices and rolled in powdered sweetening. So not the most complicated candy - no hours of boiling involved." P'draig grins over at the Weyrleader and takes another sip from his glass. "You'll have to tell me what you need Izzy, Sel." He nods as Seliene steps away for a bit and returns his gaze to V'lano and Izarit. "And then I'll see what I can do about chasing something down."
Caitlyn hears that growl in the bronzer's tone, and it only makes her hackles go up further - the woman's eyes boring laser holes into his - her mouth turned into a disagreeable frown that challenges him right back. "*I'm* the one to do the ultimate gleaning - along with the Weyrleader" the bluerider quickly amends in a dark, tight voice - "and you'll *not* go behind my back or over my head." Snarl. She still doesn't notice poor T'ace behind her, and it might behoove the new brownrider well to avoid her in such a foul mood, even if it's not directed at him. "You and your bloody gaggle will *stop* prospecting right now, and that's an *order*." Though Cait doesn't really shout, her words still carry heavy impact. Like a ten ton weight.
"All sorts of things," confirms Izarit, laughing. "You'll have to just see it for yourself, I think. But if you'll excuse me, Paddy, sir, I... see someone I need to talk to," though her gaze strays to Caitlyn and Ch'ket instead, as she reluctantly releases the Weyrleader's arm. She does tell him, as she takes one step back, "Have Volath tell Kajrath whenever you're feel to help us, sir. And Paddy, you owe me a better visit, too, when I'm more moved in. Good night." With a wiggle of her fingers at the two men, she twirls about to disappear into what crowd remains.
V'lano dips a quick little nod to Izarit, his lashes half-lowered. "Of course," pause, "Izzy." Then he raises his head, straightens his shoulders, and pockets his hands. Elbows lazy, stance casual, he gleams a little smile at P'draig. "Now that sounds sweet indeed." The candy. Right?
"There you go," P'draig confirms to Izarit with an answering chuckle. "Enjoy the rest of the party, Izzy." The Fortian shifts his parcel a little and finishes off his wine, nodding over at the Weyrleader. "Try some yourself?" So saying he offers up one of the little boxes to V'lano. "I made a few extra just in case. Good stuff."
T'ace takes another sip of his cup as he stops behind Cait, catching the last tidbit of talk before he inwardly sighs...he's likely to get his head bitten off, but still...The youth moves around Caitlyn and stands between her and the bronze rider, but of course a bit to the side. "Excuse me ma'am, sir. There's no need ta be upset, this is supposed ta be a party and a celebration fer me and the rest of the weyrlings. Please don't argue anymore here." He says, or rather, asks, looking between the two with a smile, but still a serious look...rare for him.
"Wingleader. Please. Riders've been looking at the new pairs and wondering which ones we're going to be flying with since before your daddy's jingles dropped," says Ch'ket - and admirably enough, he says it all lightly, pleasantly, with even a respectful little dip of his chin toward the end. "Believe me, if I were to come up with anything more than empty talk, it'd be my wingleader I bring it to." Here he spares a moment to throw a few eyeball daggers toward V'lano's profile, smile thinner. Back to Caitlyn with a firm nod. "But if you want 'em not to talk, ma'am, maybe best to send 'em home for the night. Threaten an early drill or sommat?"
Ch'ket does spare T'ace a glance. "Absolutely right." Significant look at his wingleader, like he figures Caitlyn should take T'ace's advice.
Caitlyn snaps her forbidding gaze to T'ace's sudden interference, looking as if to snap off a limb with it - a few choice words coming to her lips, too. And then, with a small snap, her features compose themselves, though her eyes still glower. "Well well, it seems a new, full rider needs to call his elders back to their senses." A dark heave of a sigh, and then Cait continues, nodding roughly to T'ace, then levelling a stare at Ch'ket that would burn sand to glass after his words. "This night is for the Graduated, as I said." A somewhat evil smile, curls over her lips, and her forefinger beckons him with her with a gesture that's not to be denied. "Join me, Ch'ket...and all those riders who have...gathered around your banner." What a nice way to put toadying. But his latter comment to T'ace doesn't make it past the woman's ire, drawing from her a step closer to him and the hushed words, "Shut it or lose it." Out on the beach, Kintryth draws himself forth from the waves, adding a low grumble to the air.
Blue eyes flash to the bronzerider that seems to think he's exempt from the youth's remark. "That includes you, sir, by doing as asked by the Wingleader here at least until this is over, if ya'd be so kind." T'ace says, then flashes a brilliant smile before taking a sip of his wine and glancing to Caitlyn. "If you'll excuse me sir, ma'am...I think my cup is empty." And indeed it is, the wine and juice mixture having dissapeared all to quickly, allowing T'ace to turn back and walk towards the table to refill his cup again.
"Oh, I'm such a sucker for - " V'lano plucks the little box from P'draig's hand and immediately goes about getting a candy out from it. "Fruit you said? I go through far too much candied peel here, I have to admit. I always meant to have you come back up to see me so we could share some." There's something of a chortle in his voice. But just before he puts the little tasty tidbit between his lips, it seems all at once his left ear unplugs or something and at once he hears Caitlyn's voice in its worst form, Kintryth's grumble, etcetera. "Wingleader?" One brow raises; his voice is gentle, inquisitive. "T'ace?" But T'ace is already moving off.
P'draig has been persevering in ignoring the loud voices himself and when V'lano takes an interest, the Fortian nods just once. "Enjoy, Weyrleader. I need to pass some more of these out before I head back to Fort. A good evening to you." So saying, Paddy moves off to intercept another Weyrling with a box of sweets, quickly caught up in the swirling crowd.