Turn's End @ Five Mines Hold
Who: Islay, J'lor, Lucian, M'khar, Ownah
Where: Five Mines Hold Proper
When: Evening on day 28, month 13, turn 3 of the 7th Pass. (Forward dated.)
What: Turn's End brings forth a celebration amongst those who reside a Five Mines.
Note: I suck and had to leave early. I'm sure someone else will post what I missed. But, thanks to everyone who came out!
7/3/2007
It is not a grand affair, the end of the turn. But Five Mines has gone to the trouble to throw a party. There is little in the way of decorations and no excess marks were spent to make food too fancy. However, there is plenty of food and wine of a lesser quality. While the hold has no posted group of harpers to entertain it does boast a few residents of some small musical talent. These people have set themselves up in a corner near where tables have been cleared out. There is general merry-making and so far the different groups of people who have converged here have thrown no punches or insults that cannot be laughed away as people enjoy themselves.
Turns end. It's never seemed very important to Islay before moving back to the mainland. On the island, she was always too busy to pay much attention. One day was much like another, and other than rainy or dry, the seasons didn't much change. Here, though, there are seasons and cold and snow. She remembers the cold from turns at High Reaches, but it's been a while. At least it's warm inside the hold tonight, and some frivolity. T'gar isn't there, but Islay's seen very little of the brownrider lately as it is. She still lives in his weyr, but he always seems to be busy doing something somewhere else. So, she's beginning to think it might be time to move into the resident's dorm. So, here she sits in the hold, taking a chair against the wall from which she might watch and listen. And eat. The wider selection of food is the best thing about being back on the mainland.
For a special occasion she has changed out of the clothes she wears on a daily basis. Ownah's dress may not be fancy and she may have been used to wearing them before, but lately it's been something more practical covering her form. So, she will have to be excused any excessive twitching of her dress as she tries to make it look 'right'. Still, it is a party and so she is going to enjoy herself. A cup in one hand she has picked over the food some already and now she watches the dancing while keeping an eye on the crowd. If she's looking for someone in particular they have not appeared yet.
Once the leader of the exiles, now just a bluerider beholden to the self-proclaimed Lord of Five Mines, J'lor is seated at a table doing one of the things he seems to do best. A small crowd of ex-islanders and five miners have gathered around, and the bluerider is gesticulating grandly as he reaches the apex of the tale he's been weaving for the past ten minutes.
One of those impossibly complicated country peasant dances ends amidst much applause and men and women worn out from the circling and flinging and dancing of a rowdy nature head towards the food and wine to rest up before they might do something again.
The party has been going on for a little while, so now is the perfect time for the fashionably late to make their appearance. Cue Lucian, resplendent in harper blue paired with accents of cream. Such an outfit would make him more at home with the Council members and other well-to-dos gathering around the better tables, but the harper moves comfortably (if conspicuously) among the lesser rabble. At one point, his eyes - which his clothes have made seem blue, if no less pale and icy than before - find the untrained harpers in their corner. He watches them with some trace of a smile, but doesn't move to join them.
M'khar lurks unobtrusively in the most musical corner of the cavern, leaning on the corner of a table near the back of the group gathered around to listen to the impromptu players. He wears a sweater, a bit too tight for him but heavy and warm nonetheless over pants that are too thin to withstand the weather outside. Beside him stands another of the Igen riders, a greenrider if one keeps track of such things, and the two exchange mumbled comments under the music that neither of them seems too focused on. M'khar's eyes at least, tend to wander around to take in the rest of the party, a slash of a smile offered to those who take notice of his casual attention. As a song wraps up with a jumbled flourish of strings, the brownrider nudges his conversational companion with a sharp elbow and pushes himself away from the edge of the table, uttering just a few last words before he roams toward the food, watching J'lor's antics neutrally as he passes by that table.
There isn't a lot for Islay to do other than watch. She doesn't know how to do more than the simplest dances, and she isn't a great conversationalist. So, while she nibbles on what for her are still slightly exotic foods, she watches the dancing, trying to pick out the individual steps. She avoids those of "higher" rank, preferring to maintain a low profile lest she come under the scrutiny of people she doesn't know. She does take note of the relative newcomers, the riders from Igen. Not that she's actually met any of them, save in passing while working in the kitchen or serving food. The blue gown she wears is nothing fancy, and if anyone cares to watch her, it's obvious she's not used to wearing dresses.
While Ownah may not have been part of the crowd listening to J'lor she certainly makes note of where he is. She even smiles in that general direction as she makes note of the crowd. Awww. When the music ends she moves to allow the dancers their leave and since there is no new dancing to observe she heads for where the former leader of the exiles holds his court. Getting around people is not hard at all for her and she weaves through men and women ignoring the hands of the former that might reach for her and the looks of the latter that range from kindly to not. A lot of that depending on the age of the woman the eyes are attached to. When she reaches the table she smiles brightly at those seated there. "Hey! Happy end of tha turn!" Offered to everyone although she smiles at the bluerider.
The story the bluerider chose to tell conclude with several lines that have some of his small audience laughing and some of it groaning. J'lor is smiling, dimple evident, looking positively cheeky at getting such a reception. His eyes only flick away from his audeince once, and that's when a pair of riders from Igen --brownrider and green (if one pays attention to such things)-- pass by. He shoves his chair back and pushes into a stand as the crowd begins to disperse for bad wine and simple fare. Ownah's greeting is met with responses that range from smiles to cheerful replies to distracted grunts. J'lor falls, of course, into the camp that offers verbosity. "Happy Turn's End to you, as well," he says, leaning on hip against the table. "You look beautiful, tonight."
Lucian has a few favorites among the crowd, people whom he's singled out for conversation now and again. Two of them are conveniently gathered at one table; a gap in the crowd exposes Ownah and J'lor to the harper's searching glance, but though he pauses on them he does not move their way. Instead he turns towards the food tables, beating - as it happens - J'lor's dispersing crowd to the punch as he seeks out a few adequate finger foods and the least offensive wine. Some of these people, even, he knows, and can offer warm, inconsequential greetings across the table as they arrive.
It doesn't so much matter what the quality of the food is, it's more the diversity and quantity which draws Islay back to the food table with an empty plate. She politely slips into an empty place, smiling shyly at anyone who looks at her. She's not pushy, and waits for her turn, excusing herself if she accidentally bumps into another person. Nods are given to anyone she recognizes; otherwise, she pretty much keeps to herself. Her eyes, though, take in each person in kind, as if she's curious, but too polite to start a conversation.
"I do not!" Ownah greets the compliment with a roll of her eyes, but is unable to stop the rush of color to her cheeks that turns them a shade paler than her dress. She is pleased with it, but will pretend to modesty. "Are you gonna dance with me, J'lor? Cause so far I ain't got no one willing to and I'm gonna be sad if I spend tha whole night watching. If you don' know th'steps I can teach you!" Rising on her toes she looks through the crowd. "Maybe I'll find Lucian. I bet he wouldn't dance though. He doesn't seem tha sort who would dance anything that weren't fancy enough. And, it ain't real proper to ask like I did you, but if I sit around and wait I'll lose my chance. Bet plenty ask you to dance! Don' know none of those new people. So, can't be asking em." No mention is made of any former guards from Tillek. Surely she has not even noticed if he is about.
M'khar, however, gets caught at the head of that rush for the tables, he and the greenrider nudged forward by a couple of rowdy men with a little too much liquid cheer in their stomachs. After sparing a thinned glance for the careless carousers, M'khar jostles the greenrider with a friendly punch back to a comfortable distance, drawing up an edge of a smile for him once again. He sidles up to the table then, beside Lucian as it would be, and hunts for something appeasing. A second later, while the blue-clad man is issuing one of those innocuous greetings of his, his hand darts down to snag a cracker and cheese ensemble right out from under the harper's reach. Into his mouth it goes, and he mumbles past it after a couple initial chews, in a gruff baritone, "Complain any more, I'm going to make you go up there and teach them how to play it." Then his hand prowls toward the bite-size meatrolls a plate further, eyes lifting to meet those of the shy Islay across the table, the edges of his lips cutting upward around the meat he stuffs into his mouth. But then his attention is back to the grumblings of his friend, who ignores the woman in question.
Those playing the music for the event have taken a break, but they do not need to head to the tables. Instead they pull forth from under one of their chairs a skin of wine that gets passed around. No need for cups or glasses from them. Just a skin of wine to hand off from one to the other as they chatter and eye the women who linger nearby. Musicians, no matter how good, will always have groupies.
Islay doesn't know the man across the table from her, but she's polite enough to smile at him, albeit shyly. The comment about his friends complaints gets a soft chuckle, her hand going over her mouth perhaps to hide the smile. But amusement dances in her eyes, and she takes a glance at the blue-clad harper, and then the musicians. And then she's back to picking some tidbits for her plate, a task that's made a little more difficult by her shortness, and the fact she's being jostled a little by the crowd. Finally, she manages to snag a couple of the miniature meatrolls and beats a retreat, stepping back from the crowd to pause long enough for a breath.
Lucian's fingers draw up as the brownrider's rough hand darts undereath them, snagging the cheese-topped cracker he had his eye on. Or had had his eye on, for as soon as he sighted and selected it, he left the mundane task of fetching it to occur off-camera while he focued on a new arrival across the table. Peripheral vision catches the swift hand, and reflex prevents him from knocking into it, but eventually they all come together to bring his full attention onto M'khar. He eyes the brownrider for merely a second, watching who he looks at (Islay) who speaks to (the greenrider) and what he does (eats Lucian's cracker) in such a short time. "I don't believe we've met," the harper says suddenly. Technically they are not meeting now: Lucian doesn't offer his name, just his smile and a handshake after his snacks have been set down on the table.
His laughter is warm, J'lor pushing his hands into his pockets as he smiles down at Ownah. "I had forgotten the number of rules that goes into dancing and asking and all of that. Is there a book with all of it written down, do you suppose? I should hate to have a good time incorrectly." One long-fingered hand fishes out of his pocket and is held, palm up, towards Ownah. "I would love to dance, my dear. I think I can still recall a stap or tow."
A giggle erupts from her as she goes to take a drink from her cup. She very nearly spits wine out at the bluerider she speaks with. "Sorry!" Offered with a grin as Ownah empties the wine down her throat and releases her cup to the top of the table. "There's gotta be music, silly! An' there's all kinds of books on proper dancing an' all of that, but I don't much pay it mind. It's for fancy people. Not for those like me what ain't important. Anyway, none of it matters at a celebration I think. We're supposed to be happy because another turn is over, yea? And we survived. Which is important. Plus, we made new friends. Which is even more important!" And just so his offer of his hand is not left ignored she will take it in hers to lead him to the dance floor. When the music starts she will be ready.
One of the few people Islay does know at the party is J'lor. She's standing near the food table still when she happens to catch sight of the tall bluerider standing with a woman on the dance floor. Of course, there's no music, but she offers the couple a smile and a nod, at least, then continues to look around for a good place to watch the dancing from. Her old seat has been taken over by someone else, and she's no desire to make a scene. So, she moves to one of the closer tables, one with a few empty seats. From there she has a clear view of the dancing, as well as being close to the food tables. The best of both worlds, really.
Those tiny meatrolls must be good, because M'khar returns for another, picking again off the platter instead of bothering to find a plate for himself. The roll just flops over the tops of his fingers for a second, however, when Lucian to his left suddenly proposes an introduction. Eyebrows hitch higher and his eyes track the departure of the demure girl, but only for a second before he draws back from that moment of surprised distraction. He takes in the meatroll in one bite and mumbles, "Mmph," while he chews it, the hand brushing briefly past his pants before he'll offer it to shake, firm and no-nonsense, clinging only for the required jerk of acknowledgement before releasing. "M'khar," he provides after swallowing, though his tongue snakes sideways to catch a bit that's stuck in his teeth. "J'bir," he adds also, jerking a thumb back at his greenriding companion, who's managed more manners than the brownrider, looking up from an arranged plate to nod and smile at the harper. With just a tilt of his head toward Lucian and another hitch of his eyebrows, M'khar inquires for the rest of the introduction.
"If importance is weighed by fanciness, then I suppose we're all in a bit of trouble," J'lor murmurs around a small grin. He trails obediently after Ownah. Islay's smile is returned, dark eyes finding her briefly before he glances back down to the girl whose hand is in his. "I suppose we did, at that," he agrees with a wink. "Quite a feat, surviving."
Enough with the flirting it seems. At least from most of the musicians. One of the amateurs abandons his post to lead a giggly, drunken girl off to some corner where they will do some modest indecency to each other in the shadows. The others let him go and whisper amongst themselves before beginning a new song.
Lucian must be in a good mood tonight, for that jerk of a handshake doesn't have any effect on his manner. His hand - which offered no such vigor, but was simply and elegantly firm - moves back, and he returns the greenrider's nod. "Lucian." No more was offered, no more is returned. Although the brownrider was his original target, the aforementioned Lucian now slips his gaze past him, adopting a slight lean so he can see around to the greenrider. "You don't like the music, J'bir?" he asks, quirking his smile a bit higher and adding a dollop more sparkle to his eyes, so the other man will know his opinion is welcomed - perhaps shared - not mocked.
Since the music begins again it means Ownah does not have to stand around expectantly waiting for it. Instead she can do her best to avoid running into anyone else who now fills up the dance floor. She's prepared to allow J'lor to lead since he is the man, but if he bungles a step she will offer a teasing correction. The conversation is kept light, much of it pointing out this person or that and gossiping shamelessly. That it allows her to watch the other dancers and the crowd in general is just a benefit. But she's not watching /for/ someone. She does release her dance partner once the music ends with a hug and a cheerful statement about having to dance with someone else. Someones else.
Even if she's shy, Islay is female enough to realize when a man (maybe more than one?) has noticed her. She doesn't flirt, instead looks down at her plate, a touch of color on her cheeks before she starts to watch the musicians start to play. She's certainly not oblivious to the music, and her foot taps along with the beat as she nibbles on cheese and crackers, and various other tidbits on her plate. Her drink of choice is punch, not alcohol. One taste of the wine was enough to tell her it wasn't to her taste.
M'khar is content to browse the platters in front of them, occasionally cutting in between the two with a reaching arm, while J'bir turns up to answer the question. The man's hair is close-shaven just like the brownrider's but his face is broader, flatter, and right now composed with a bit of embarrassment at being called out to answer. His dark eyes dart toward M'khar before swinging back to Lucian as he says, "Oh. No, not really," he looks down to his plate to flick aside a biscuit aside to make room for more. "Just don't think it's what I'm used to," he answers further, glancing once more at the harper with a broad smile. Then M'khar takes over. "He misses our desert tunes, the sentimental sap," he says, a hint of a smile cutting higher though he looks at neither the harper or his friend, focused on a bit of greasy sauce left on the thumb that soon gets stuck into his mouth and licked clean. J'bir grins with a momentary glare at the brownrider then goes back to arranging food.
Someone else causes the someone first to look curiously over at Ownah with a faint and curious smile. But he is hard to pin down at such functions, and sadly easy to distract. With a bow over Ownah's hand and eyes that are bright with mirth as he kisses her knuckles in thanks for the turn on the dance floor, J'lor drifts off. One more ragtag figure in a ragtag crowd.
The social butterfly that is Ownah will make the rounds and cheerfully speak to as many people as she decides need her own special brand of happiness. If she spends the whole time watching for someone in the crowd it's not that easy to notice. It would require paying attention to her after all. Still, eventually before the evening gets /too/ late and therefore too dangerous she will head off. Certainly before any brawl might break out. Or anything else horrid like that.
Where: Five Mines Hold Proper
When: Evening on day 28, month 13, turn 3 of the 7th Pass. (Forward dated.)
What: Turn's End brings forth a celebration amongst those who reside a Five Mines.
Note: I suck and had to leave early. I'm sure someone else will post what I missed. But, thanks to everyone who came out!
7/3/2007
It is not a grand affair, the end of the turn. But Five Mines has gone to the trouble to throw a party. There is little in the way of decorations and no excess marks were spent to make food too fancy. However, there is plenty of food and wine of a lesser quality. While the hold has no posted group of harpers to entertain it does boast a few residents of some small musical talent. These people have set themselves up in a corner near where tables have been cleared out. There is general merry-making and so far the different groups of people who have converged here have thrown no punches or insults that cannot be laughed away as people enjoy themselves.
Turns end. It's never seemed very important to Islay before moving back to the mainland. On the island, she was always too busy to pay much attention. One day was much like another, and other than rainy or dry, the seasons didn't much change. Here, though, there are seasons and cold and snow. She remembers the cold from turns at High Reaches, but it's been a while. At least it's warm inside the hold tonight, and some frivolity. T'gar isn't there, but Islay's seen very little of the brownrider lately as it is. She still lives in his weyr, but he always seems to be busy doing something somewhere else. So, she's beginning to think it might be time to move into the resident's dorm. So, here she sits in the hold, taking a chair against the wall from which she might watch and listen. And eat. The wider selection of food is the best thing about being back on the mainland.
For a special occasion she has changed out of the clothes she wears on a daily basis. Ownah's dress may not be fancy and she may have been used to wearing them before, but lately it's been something more practical covering her form. So, she will have to be excused any excessive twitching of her dress as she tries to make it look 'right'. Still, it is a party and so she is going to enjoy herself. A cup in one hand she has picked over the food some already and now she watches the dancing while keeping an eye on the crowd. If she's looking for someone in particular they have not appeared yet.
Once the leader of the exiles, now just a bluerider beholden to the self-proclaimed Lord of Five Mines, J'lor is seated at a table doing one of the things he seems to do best. A small crowd of ex-islanders and five miners have gathered around, and the bluerider is gesticulating grandly as he reaches the apex of the tale he's been weaving for the past ten minutes.
One of those impossibly complicated country peasant dances ends amidst much applause and men and women worn out from the circling and flinging and dancing of a rowdy nature head towards the food and wine to rest up before they might do something again.
The party has been going on for a little while, so now is the perfect time for the fashionably late to make their appearance. Cue Lucian, resplendent in harper blue paired with accents of cream. Such an outfit would make him more at home with the Council members and other well-to-dos gathering around the better tables, but the harper moves comfortably (if conspicuously) among the lesser rabble. At one point, his eyes - which his clothes have made seem blue, if no less pale and icy than before - find the untrained harpers in their corner. He watches them with some trace of a smile, but doesn't move to join them.
M'khar lurks unobtrusively in the most musical corner of the cavern, leaning on the corner of a table near the back of the group gathered around to listen to the impromptu players. He wears a sweater, a bit too tight for him but heavy and warm nonetheless over pants that are too thin to withstand the weather outside. Beside him stands another of the Igen riders, a greenrider if one keeps track of such things, and the two exchange mumbled comments under the music that neither of them seems too focused on. M'khar's eyes at least, tend to wander around to take in the rest of the party, a slash of a smile offered to those who take notice of his casual attention. As a song wraps up with a jumbled flourish of strings, the brownrider nudges his conversational companion with a sharp elbow and pushes himself away from the edge of the table, uttering just a few last words before he roams toward the food, watching J'lor's antics neutrally as he passes by that table.
There isn't a lot for Islay to do other than watch. She doesn't know how to do more than the simplest dances, and she isn't a great conversationalist. So, while she nibbles on what for her are still slightly exotic foods, she watches the dancing, trying to pick out the individual steps. She avoids those of "higher" rank, preferring to maintain a low profile lest she come under the scrutiny of people she doesn't know. She does take note of the relative newcomers, the riders from Igen. Not that she's actually met any of them, save in passing while working in the kitchen or serving food. The blue gown she wears is nothing fancy, and if anyone cares to watch her, it's obvious she's not used to wearing dresses.
While Ownah may not have been part of the crowd listening to J'lor she certainly makes note of where he is. She even smiles in that general direction as she makes note of the crowd. Awww. When the music ends she moves to allow the dancers their leave and since there is no new dancing to observe she heads for where the former leader of the exiles holds his court. Getting around people is not hard at all for her and she weaves through men and women ignoring the hands of the former that might reach for her and the looks of the latter that range from kindly to not. A lot of that depending on the age of the woman the eyes are attached to. When she reaches the table she smiles brightly at those seated there. "Hey! Happy end of tha turn!" Offered to everyone although she smiles at the bluerider.
The story the bluerider chose to tell conclude with several lines that have some of his small audience laughing and some of it groaning. J'lor is smiling, dimple evident, looking positively cheeky at getting such a reception. His eyes only flick away from his audeince once, and that's when a pair of riders from Igen --brownrider and green (if one pays attention to such things)-- pass by. He shoves his chair back and pushes into a stand as the crowd begins to disperse for bad wine and simple fare. Ownah's greeting is met with responses that range from smiles to cheerful replies to distracted grunts. J'lor falls, of course, into the camp that offers verbosity. "Happy Turn's End to you, as well," he says, leaning on hip against the table. "You look beautiful, tonight."
Lucian has a few favorites among the crowd, people whom he's singled out for conversation now and again. Two of them are conveniently gathered at one table; a gap in the crowd exposes Ownah and J'lor to the harper's searching glance, but though he pauses on them he does not move their way. Instead he turns towards the food tables, beating - as it happens - J'lor's dispersing crowd to the punch as he seeks out a few adequate finger foods and the least offensive wine. Some of these people, even, he knows, and can offer warm, inconsequential greetings across the table as they arrive.
It doesn't so much matter what the quality of the food is, it's more the diversity and quantity which draws Islay back to the food table with an empty plate. She politely slips into an empty place, smiling shyly at anyone who looks at her. She's not pushy, and waits for her turn, excusing herself if she accidentally bumps into another person. Nods are given to anyone she recognizes; otherwise, she pretty much keeps to herself. Her eyes, though, take in each person in kind, as if she's curious, but too polite to start a conversation.
"I do not!" Ownah greets the compliment with a roll of her eyes, but is unable to stop the rush of color to her cheeks that turns them a shade paler than her dress. She is pleased with it, but will pretend to modesty. "Are you gonna dance with me, J'lor? Cause so far I ain't got no one willing to and I'm gonna be sad if I spend tha whole night watching. If you don' know th'steps I can teach you!" Rising on her toes she looks through the crowd. "Maybe I'll find Lucian. I bet he wouldn't dance though. He doesn't seem tha sort who would dance anything that weren't fancy enough. And, it ain't real proper to ask like I did you, but if I sit around and wait I'll lose my chance. Bet plenty ask you to dance! Don' know none of those new people. So, can't be asking em." No mention is made of any former guards from Tillek. Surely she has not even noticed if he is about.
M'khar, however, gets caught at the head of that rush for the tables, he and the greenrider nudged forward by a couple of rowdy men with a little too much liquid cheer in their stomachs. After sparing a thinned glance for the careless carousers, M'khar jostles the greenrider with a friendly punch back to a comfortable distance, drawing up an edge of a smile for him once again. He sidles up to the table then, beside Lucian as it would be, and hunts for something appeasing. A second later, while the blue-clad man is issuing one of those innocuous greetings of his, his hand darts down to snag a cracker and cheese ensemble right out from under the harper's reach. Into his mouth it goes, and he mumbles past it after a couple initial chews, in a gruff baritone, "Complain any more, I'm going to make you go up there and teach them how to play it." Then his hand prowls toward the bite-size meatrolls a plate further, eyes lifting to meet those of the shy Islay across the table, the edges of his lips cutting upward around the meat he stuffs into his mouth. But then his attention is back to the grumblings of his friend, who ignores the woman in question.
Those playing the music for the event have taken a break, but they do not need to head to the tables. Instead they pull forth from under one of their chairs a skin of wine that gets passed around. No need for cups or glasses from them. Just a skin of wine to hand off from one to the other as they chatter and eye the women who linger nearby. Musicians, no matter how good, will always have groupies.
Islay doesn't know the man across the table from her, but she's polite enough to smile at him, albeit shyly. The comment about his friends complaints gets a soft chuckle, her hand going over her mouth perhaps to hide the smile. But amusement dances in her eyes, and she takes a glance at the blue-clad harper, and then the musicians. And then she's back to picking some tidbits for her plate, a task that's made a little more difficult by her shortness, and the fact she's being jostled a little by the crowd. Finally, she manages to snag a couple of the miniature meatrolls and beats a retreat, stepping back from the crowd to pause long enough for a breath.
Lucian's fingers draw up as the brownrider's rough hand darts undereath them, snagging the cheese-topped cracker he had his eye on. Or had had his eye on, for as soon as he sighted and selected it, he left the mundane task of fetching it to occur off-camera while he focued on a new arrival across the table. Peripheral vision catches the swift hand, and reflex prevents him from knocking into it, but eventually they all come together to bring his full attention onto M'khar. He eyes the brownrider for merely a second, watching who he looks at (Islay) who speaks to (the greenrider) and what he does (eats Lucian's cracker) in such a short time. "I don't believe we've met," the harper says suddenly. Technically they are not meeting now: Lucian doesn't offer his name, just his smile and a handshake after his snacks have been set down on the table.
His laughter is warm, J'lor pushing his hands into his pockets as he smiles down at Ownah. "I had forgotten the number of rules that goes into dancing and asking and all of that. Is there a book with all of it written down, do you suppose? I should hate to have a good time incorrectly." One long-fingered hand fishes out of his pocket and is held, palm up, towards Ownah. "I would love to dance, my dear. I think I can still recall a stap or tow."
A giggle erupts from her as she goes to take a drink from her cup. She very nearly spits wine out at the bluerider she speaks with. "Sorry!" Offered with a grin as Ownah empties the wine down her throat and releases her cup to the top of the table. "There's gotta be music, silly! An' there's all kinds of books on proper dancing an' all of that, but I don't much pay it mind. It's for fancy people. Not for those like me what ain't important. Anyway, none of it matters at a celebration I think. We're supposed to be happy because another turn is over, yea? And we survived. Which is important. Plus, we made new friends. Which is even more important!" And just so his offer of his hand is not left ignored she will take it in hers to lead him to the dance floor. When the music starts she will be ready.
One of the few people Islay does know at the party is J'lor. She's standing near the food table still when she happens to catch sight of the tall bluerider standing with a woman on the dance floor. Of course, there's no music, but she offers the couple a smile and a nod, at least, then continues to look around for a good place to watch the dancing from. Her old seat has been taken over by someone else, and she's no desire to make a scene. So, she moves to one of the closer tables, one with a few empty seats. From there she has a clear view of the dancing, as well as being close to the food tables. The best of both worlds, really.
Those tiny meatrolls must be good, because M'khar returns for another, picking again off the platter instead of bothering to find a plate for himself. The roll just flops over the tops of his fingers for a second, however, when Lucian to his left suddenly proposes an introduction. Eyebrows hitch higher and his eyes track the departure of the demure girl, but only for a second before he draws back from that moment of surprised distraction. He takes in the meatroll in one bite and mumbles, "Mmph," while he chews it, the hand brushing briefly past his pants before he'll offer it to shake, firm and no-nonsense, clinging only for the required jerk of acknowledgement before releasing. "M'khar," he provides after swallowing, though his tongue snakes sideways to catch a bit that's stuck in his teeth. "J'bir," he adds also, jerking a thumb back at his greenriding companion, who's managed more manners than the brownrider, looking up from an arranged plate to nod and smile at the harper. With just a tilt of his head toward Lucian and another hitch of his eyebrows, M'khar inquires for the rest of the introduction.
"If importance is weighed by fanciness, then I suppose we're all in a bit of trouble," J'lor murmurs around a small grin. He trails obediently after Ownah. Islay's smile is returned, dark eyes finding her briefly before he glances back down to the girl whose hand is in his. "I suppose we did, at that," he agrees with a wink. "Quite a feat, surviving."
Enough with the flirting it seems. At least from most of the musicians. One of the amateurs abandons his post to lead a giggly, drunken girl off to some corner where they will do some modest indecency to each other in the shadows. The others let him go and whisper amongst themselves before beginning a new song.
Lucian must be in a good mood tonight, for that jerk of a handshake doesn't have any effect on his manner. His hand - which offered no such vigor, but was simply and elegantly firm - moves back, and he returns the greenrider's nod. "Lucian." No more was offered, no more is returned. Although the brownrider was his original target, the aforementioned Lucian now slips his gaze past him, adopting a slight lean so he can see around to the greenrider. "You don't like the music, J'bir?" he asks, quirking his smile a bit higher and adding a dollop more sparkle to his eyes, so the other man will know his opinion is welcomed - perhaps shared - not mocked.
Since the music begins again it means Ownah does not have to stand around expectantly waiting for it. Instead she can do her best to avoid running into anyone else who now fills up the dance floor. She's prepared to allow J'lor to lead since he is the man, but if he bungles a step she will offer a teasing correction. The conversation is kept light, much of it pointing out this person or that and gossiping shamelessly. That it allows her to watch the other dancers and the crowd in general is just a benefit. But she's not watching /for/ someone. She does release her dance partner once the music ends with a hug and a cheerful statement about having to dance with someone else. Someones else.
Even if she's shy, Islay is female enough to realize when a man (maybe more than one?) has noticed her. She doesn't flirt, instead looks down at her plate, a touch of color on her cheeks before she starts to watch the musicians start to play. She's certainly not oblivious to the music, and her foot taps along with the beat as she nibbles on cheese and crackers, and various other tidbits on her plate. Her drink of choice is punch, not alcohol. One taste of the wine was enough to tell her it wasn't to her taste.
M'khar is content to browse the platters in front of them, occasionally cutting in between the two with a reaching arm, while J'bir turns up to answer the question. The man's hair is close-shaven just like the brownrider's but his face is broader, flatter, and right now composed with a bit of embarrassment at being called out to answer. His dark eyes dart toward M'khar before swinging back to Lucian as he says, "Oh. No, not really," he looks down to his plate to flick aside a biscuit aside to make room for more. "Just don't think it's what I'm used to," he answers further, glancing once more at the harper with a broad smile. Then M'khar takes over. "He misses our desert tunes, the sentimental sap," he says, a hint of a smile cutting higher though he looks at neither the harper or his friend, focused on a bit of greasy sauce left on the thumb that soon gets stuck into his mouth and licked clean. J'bir grins with a momentary glare at the brownrider then goes back to arranging food.
Someone else causes the someone first to look curiously over at Ownah with a faint and curious smile. But he is hard to pin down at such functions, and sadly easy to distract. With a bow over Ownah's hand and eyes that are bright with mirth as he kisses her knuckles in thanks for the turn on the dance floor, J'lor drifts off. One more ragtag figure in a ragtag crowd.
The social butterfly that is Ownah will make the rounds and cheerfully speak to as many people as she decides need her own special brand of happiness. If she spends the whole time watching for someone in the crowd it's not that easy to notice. It would require paying attention to her after all. Still, eventually before the evening gets /too/ late and therefore too dangerous she will head off. Certainly before any brawl might break out. Or anything else horrid like that.