Lunch interrupted.

[miniyal]

Who: Fienne, Kenathan, Miniyal, Roa, R'vain, Vanya
Where: Living cavern and hatching galleries
When: Lunchtime and onward on day 24, month 3, turn 3 of the 7th Pass
What: Tialith clutches and interrupts lunch. Miniyal chats it up with her new 'friend' and brings her to meet the weyrleaders in the galleries. Hey, she /wanted/ to so it is not my fault!


2/12/2007

Lunchtime. Clusters of riders and residents and so forth here and there, dining and conversing. Low hum of a feeding crowd. There was just an interesting bit of talk about Five Mines Hold at the table the little Weyrwoman's seated at, but the Weyrleader's arrival seems to have wrecked that. R'vain's lip curls a twitch, but he has grace enough to cover it with a rumbled, "'Lo." A trace of a salute and he drops his paw to pull back the chair he's intending to sit in, glancing around at the riders who've stood to greet him with a cheshire grin. "You may as well all siddown. I ain't goin' t'wait f'you t'start eating." An upward jerk of his chin to accent this sharp humor and R'vain passes his plate from paw to table, then folds into his chair across from Roa.

It's not the best of times to be in the living cavern. Lunchtime. There's always a lot of people about. Avoiding people is nearly impossible in situations like this and yet here we find Miniyal. A book is tucked under one arm and in her other hand there is an empty mug. It is obviously empty because it dangles loosely from a finger and she has not left behind a trail of whatever it is she might be drinking. Ducking through people she makes her way for the klah, head down and trying her best to avoid as much notice as she can. Nothing to see here, really.

The groups of riders sort of carefully lower themselves back down and return to their meals. The talk of riding straps picks up again, but chatter about Five Mines has shifted to the totally inncuous topic of dragon oils and if certain ingeredients do more for the hide than any others. Roa only arches a single brow at this development, but there's nothing else on her face to suggest disapproval. Or much of anything else. She has another nibble of breadroll as the weyrleader seats himself. "What did he want?" she asks after a beat, "the bluerider?"

"F'me t'shift someone out from in front of him in formation," replies R'vain, with a sideways squint at one of the men to his left who /had/ been talking about Five Mines and is now a great fan of oil from a particular pink-fleshed ocean fish. He glances down at his lunch-- a wheat roll with a slab of cheese and a slab of cold pork and a little pile of applesauce-- while tucking in his chair, and curls a freckled hand around the roll after that, preparing to split it apart. He looks up at Roa and notes, "Claims too much ripple in th'wake," but suddenly his gaze has gone past the weyrwoman's shoulder. Huh. Book-girl going for klah. Whaddyaknow.

He really needs to stop pining for her. It's just never going to happen so R'vain should just ignore her and let her go about her business. When she reaches the klah pot she tests them all until she finds one to her liking and then she fills up her cup nearly to the top without adding anything extra to it. Only once the important task is done will she let out a sigh and shift her book up under her arm so she can look about for a place to sit. Preferably one without too many people although that's always hard this time of day. When her look about forces her to notice where the weyr's leaders sit she does her best to pretend to have noticed no such thing. Look, no one here.

"So why did he -actually- want the shift?" Roa asks, head canting a little to the side. The rider who speaks of pink fish oil speaks of it a bit more passionately as he realizes R'vain is peering. But then the weyrleader looks over and away, and the weyrwoman turns her head to follow that gaze to...Oh. Well then. Miniyal.

Lunchtime, still. Clusters of riders and residents and so forth here and there, dining and conversing. Low hum of a feeding crowd. The Weyrwoman and Weyrleader seated at a table boasting a couple of clusters of riders, one talking about straps, the other about fish oil, all pointedly innocuous and unhelpful. Miniyal skulking for klah. "Personal conflict, tenth of a mark," rumbles the Weyrleader to Roa, glancing down at the roll he's splitting open with a jab of his thumb, so as not to invite speculation on behalf of any of their tablemates who might be interested. "Call 'er over," R'vain suggests after that, still looking down so he can carefully squish the cold pork and slab of cheese into the hole he's made in the bread.

Skulking indeed. She is not skulking! Miniyal is merely trying to avoid having to talk to anyone she does not want to talk to. Sometimes a woman just needs a drink. Frowning a moment into her cup she tests the heat of it with a small sip and only when she's truly satisfied that she's got what she needs does she begin plotting her path away from the klah table. If you plot a path you can avoid people you want to much easier. Also, one has to be careful to come nowhere near the kitchen door in an exit path otherwise some weird Mother Sense might bring said woman out to find some new point to lecture on. It also involves warily watching those you wish to avoid. Like those pesky weyrleaders.

Lunchtime, still. Clusters of riders and residents and so forth here and there, dining and conversing. Low hum of a feeding crowd. The Weyrwoman and Weyrleader seated at a table boasting a couple of clusters of riders, one talking about straps, the other about fish oil, all pointedly innocuous and unhelpful. Miniyal skulking for klah. The weyrwoman's brow creases a little. "She just stopped avidly and overtly disliking me. I'm not sure waving her over towards a table of riders is going to help maintain the trend."

"I want t'ask her something," R'vain sulks. Correct, sulks. Grumpy look at his makeshift sandwich and all of the sulky trimmings-- frown, furrowed brow, narrowed eyes, slightly petulant tone of rumble. "It can wait. Let 'er go then."

And, apparently, visitors from Nabol. Kenathan's been helping the guards...fetching, carrying, running messages. Now he makes his way into the room and over to the tables full of food, filling his plate generously. Kid is starting to look less half-starved.

Fienne enters alone, but for the company of one wherhide satchel so new it nearly shines. The flap dangles limply, open to reveal the spine of a few books and the upward jutting corner of a notebook. If the copper Caucus pin fastened to her High Reaches Hold knot were not designator enough, the bag slung over her shoulder likely would be, and the way she eyes the large bustling cavern with a mixture of interest and caution combines to hint at her newness. Her own carefully plotted path toward the food takes her past Miniyal and she gives the familiar face a bright little grin and a finger-wiggle of a wave. "Afternoon," she offers, pausing with eyes that dart toward the makings of lunch.

When nodded to, Miniyal blinks and pulls her attention away from the room in general and towards the woman who did the nodding. "Oh. Good afternoon." Then there is a fleeting sort of smile offered. "I hope you're settling in well, Fienne." Yes, she remembers the other woman's name. If nothing else it will help her determine if her name has been figured out. Look! She has something to do. Isn't it lovely? She can ignore those people she has been trying to. Well, if it were her nature to avoid. It not being that she turns to Fienne once more and smiles, it's friendly, sure, but she's got this look in her eyes that doesn't quite bode well. "If you'd like I can find us a table once you have a plate?"

The weyrleader's sulk is met with raised brows and a look just ever so mildly incredulous at the performance. "If you wish to speak with her, then call her over," Roa offers, a bit baffled. "Although if you want to speak with her, it might be better for you both if you wait until it's a bit more quiet." And a bit less lunchtime. Roa seems about to add more, but then her mouth closes and the corners of her lips tip downward in a faintly perplexed frown.

Lunch acquired, the boy glances around for a free table. He frowns a little bit, considering, then starts to move over to find a seat not far from Miniyal. "Busy," he murmurs. "Maybe I should eat a little later." It might well be loud enough to be heard.

Fienne brightens visibly at the recognition and rememberance combined, her smile quick to return and settle on her lips, as she nods. "I'd appreciate that very much... it's a little crowded in here, isn't it? Mmm, Miniyal right?" It seems she has indeed done a bit of detective work, though with the whole rehabilitation project and all it probably wasn't overly hard. All friendliness and excitement at finding someone who remembers her and doesn't go rushing off with all the busy things to do, Fienne flashes one more earnest, hopeful sort of smile then gestures toward the meal table. "You find a seat and then I'll find you?"

"Can't," R'vain remarks, regarding calling Miniyal over, but the Weyrleader accents this with the most casual of shrugs. No big. He has time after that to start his lunch, glancing significantly at the Weyrwoman's plate past his first bite of his own food. A greenrider at the very end of their table interjects into the fish-oil conversation with, "Do you think they're going to tithe?" And for his trouble gets a funny look from one of the brownriders midway down. The talk of what kind of oil makes the best impression on a dragon's hide in flight rumbles just a little louder, a little more gamely, a little more intense.

Head turning to find the source of the other voice nearby. Out of all the others, sure, but Miniyal is good at picking out words in a crowd. So she focuses on Ken a moment and then shrugs. "Seems stupid to get food and then abandon it. You want someplace less busy just go eat somewhere else. Otherwise all you can do is just throw yourself into the crowd and make room for yourself." Advice she would never take, sure, but she is happy to offer it. When she has offered her advice she is back to regarding Fienne. "Oh, it's much too crowded. No, no. I'll wait for you. I know where we can find a spot." She is so helpful.

"Can't?" Roa blinks several times, the frown fading away. "Why not?" She glances down at her own plate as R'vain looks that way, and in response to his study, another bit of breadroll is peeled free and eaten. Chew, chew ch-...her head comes up, eyes widening just a little. "-Oh!-" A fw of the riders sitting near the weyrwoman glance over at her. A few others look just as determiendly at something else.

Kenathan shrugs. "I meant tomorrow. Is the entire Weyr here?" He finally just elects to shove his way through the crowd and make room for himself on a bench between a skinny apprentice healer and a the-opposite-of-skinny woman who looks like everyone's grandmother.

Even the Weyrleader jerks a bit at Roa's outburst, and of course he's one of those nearby riders who looks at her. His look could not be dismissed as a mere glance-- it's more of a squint. After a moment he casts a leftward look sideways, then back to Roa, brows roughly quirked, as if the stray comment about tithe might have been at fault for her sudden wide-eyed note. "You, uh, been bit by something?" Bit of a grin then, so she could pass it off as him being obnoxious, if she liked.

Fienne tiptoes, leaning around Miniyal to see who the aside is to. Her lips fall into a customarily polite smile of greeting, but as he moves away he may not have caught it. As such her attention is back on Miniyal soon enough, and the observant might note the barest hint of a pause, eyes narrowing a touch at the tone. Perhaps her detective work turned up more than just a name. Or maybe not, as she's all wide eyed appreciation and a smile that tries a little too hard as she nods. "I'll be right back." It's not far to the meal table after all, and though the raucus crowd of dragonriders tugs a quick glance away from lunch, it's brief. Then, focus! She piles her plate up indiscriminately - some veggies, a thin sandwich, a wedge of bubbly. A glass of juice is added and she tries to balance it all, shifting the weight of her satchel on her shoulder as she returns to Miniyal's side. "Where to?"

"Busiest part of lunch, yes," is Miniyal's answer to Ken. "Come later you miss the good stuff. I recommend coming earlier. Late morning, sneak away if you have to. Otherwise give everyone time to get away, yes." Her shoulders shrug and she lets Ken go find his table then. Watching him a moment she frowns thoughtfully, but then she's tilting her head to regard Fienne once more. "I'll be right here. I hate this time of day in here. I always get stuck when I just want to get in and get out to someplace more quiet. So it goes." And politely wait she does, while the other woman fills her plate. When she is done there is a thoughtful frown before a path is selected and Miniyal leads the way with, "Let's see what we can do then about a seat."

"Bit? What? No, I..." the weyrwoman is already standing and attempting to scramble over the bench. Riders on either side scoot so that she has enough room to do so, and more eyes are on her now. "Why are they always so secretive about these things?" is murmured mostly to herself, but the next words and the almost shy smile, is specifically for the weyrleader. "She's clutching." The tray of food that was barely touched is now forgotten, and Roa begins to attempt squeezing her way out through the crowd.

SCRAAAPE. The Weyrleader shoves back his chair without thought for the racket the feet will make against the stone, and shoves himself out of it without thought for the brush of his elbow against the shoulder of the brownrider closest to him, who in turn shoves /his/ chair sideways, causing a sudden domino-effect ruckus of moving, screeching furniture. "You goin'?" The question may as well be rhetorical. He's already shoving the sandwich wholesale into his inner jacket pocket (with apologies to laundresses everywhere no doubt in the back of his mind).

Kenathan frowns as eyes flick to the Weyrwoman. "Earlier. I'll bear that in mind. What's going on?" He asks this between mouthfuls of food, which he seems to be attempting to consume before somebody comes and steals all of it. "I mean, why is the Weyrwoman leaving in such a hurry?"

Fienne arches a brow at the commotion that begins not too far away. With a little squeak of an inhalation she steps to the side, lifting her plate out of the Weyrwoman's way as she squeezes past. "What-" she breaks off as Kenathan speaks the question for her, quizzical eyes moving from Roa to Miniyal. Apparently Miniyal the all-knowing who will clear things up for all the new people.

Miniyal blinks at the question and then shrugs. "How should I know? She's always doing odd things." Answering has, of course, forced her to not get anywhere in her path towards a place to seat so Ken is rewarded with an annoyed sigh. "Follow em and find out." She did glance over then when the question was asked and notice both weyrleaders standing. "Likely to be more space if it's anything interesting at least." Question answered she tries to head off /again/ to a place to sit. Likely making a nice note in her mind to never ever ever ever again enter the living cavern no matter the time of day. When Fienne looks to her as well she glances down at her own self. "When did I become a sharding nanny to every holder that shows up anyway? If they're both going either they're overcome with passion for each other. . .the thought of which is somewhat nauseating or considering the timing it's quite possible the world's most boring 'exciting' event is going to be occurring. And you can find your own ways to watch it because I have no interest at all in seeing it."

She stands near where the food and klah is near Fienne. Ken sits nearby consuming his lunch and Roa and R'vain have just risen from a table of riders and appear to be heading out. The lunch crowd is heavy enough to make this a bit difficult going at first.

It is perhaps helpful that an entire contingent of riders and a rather large weyrleader are following after the little weyrwoman. It certainly helps clear a path, as murmurs similar in nature to Kenathan's and Fienne's are voiced all aroung the Living Cavern. And as it goes with these sorts of questions, somehow, it's the answer that begins to filter through the crowd now: the new senior queen is clutching. More chairs are pushed back as others begin to stand and head out of the eating area and towards the hatching sands. Some folks, on the other hand, simply continue eating.

It's not surprising that curiosity would, judging by the look on his face, take the holder kid off after the contingent of riders, with one backward look at Miniyal. He grabs what of his food he can...laundresses won't appreciate his pockets either, given he too shoved some bred within before heading through the crowd.

Fienne's front teeth graze her lower lip in a penitent fashion, eyes dropping but only for a beat. Then Miniyal's difficult to decipher explanation is joined by the general murmurings that are filtering around and both thin brows arch upward. "Clutching? Like... laying her eggs?" Um, duh Fienne. Even she seems to have that sentiment an instant after the words leave her lips and she colors slightly, shaking her head in a way that is hopefully dismissive of any further explanation. Now to decide... food or observing the goings on? "It takes a while doesn't it? I'll probably get run right over in this rush." And that's the decision made it seems, as she nods Miniyal on to a seat.

"Ages, Fienne. It takes long boring ages." Miniyal, jaded weyr resident and all. "I would definitely recommend giving it at least half an hour. Unless you want a decent seat to watch it, but really. It's just going to be her skulking about on the sands laying eggs here and there. I suppose if you've not seen it before you might want to go. Still, I'd say eat first." So off she leads, finding a spot newly abandoned and once she's shoved forgotten plates aside and made a clear spot she sits down.

The weyrwoman and her impromptu entourage begin to head out the door, through the bowl, and into the hatching galleries. Some of them are, perhaps, young and still intrigued by queens plopping eggs. Others, more likely, have bet on the outcome and wish to watch the progression for themselves. Of those that remain behind, one older man sighs, stretches his legs, and enjoys his newfound space. "Nothing like a clutchin' to give a man a bit o' legroom."

Fienne drops neatly into a seat beside Miniyal, settling first plate and mug on the table, then bulky bag at her feet. As the cavern empties it grows progressively quieter and Fienne peeks around with a hint of a smile. "Better than yelling fire, I guess? I... I'd like to see some of it but it seems like it would just be the same thing over and over right?" There's a faint wrinkle at the bridge of her nose and she shakes her head. "I've seen wherries lay eggs and it can't be all /that/ different."

Wrinkling her nose up, Miniyal grabs a discarded napkin to wipe up someone's spilled mess before she sets her book on the table. "Well, just follow the stream of people and all. It won't be hard. Just head out of here into the bowl and go north." One hand waves off in the direction she should go. "It is all the same, yes. And can go on for a long time. Hours, sometimes over the course of a day or two. I imagine this one will take plenty of time and you'll get to see part of it even after you eat. I'm just thankful it happened." Taking a drink from her mug she grins faintly. "Otherwise I might have not been able to avoid speaking to certain people."

With dainty little crunching sounds Fienne munches on the end of a stick of raw carrot, eyes following the direction-pointing hand. "Mmm hmm, I have a map now." She sounds inordinately pleased about this fact, nudging her bag with a toe - presumably to show it's squirreled away in there somewhere. "And I'm just famished so I guess I'll eat and then go see. I don't want to put sandwiches in my pockets." A bit cryptic that, especially if Miniyal didn't notice the Weyrleader doing just that. Apparently Fienne did, in spite of the general chaos of the cavern. Of course, he is a bit hard to miss, his fancy knot harder still. She reaches for her mug but pauses with it partially to her lips, brows darting upward. "Oh? Who were you avoiding?"

Miniyal likely noticed the sandwich thing if only because she makes a living noticing things. Her only indication of such notice is the light smirk that appears and then disappears. Setting her mug down she wraps both hands around it and then nods. "A map is helpful. There's not much to figure out I think. If you ever get around it's not too hard to sort out where things are anyplace with the proper orientation to the right direction. I can't remember the last time I got lost anywhere. Well, unless it was on purpose." A shrug at this and another drink before she bothers to answer the question. First she jerks her head in the direction the weyrleaders went, but since everyone else went that way as well she clarifies. "Weyrleaders."

Fienne sips at her juice, nodding along with the notion that maps are indeed helpful. Though when it comes to figuring out where you're going being easy there's a crease to her brow and she quickly shakes her head. "I just have to figure out more places, I guess? I've spent my whole life at High Reaches Hold and it's... well, different here." To say the least. She blinks then, that puzzled blank fog filtering into her eyes. "Mmm, why would you want to get lost? It's embarassing to have to ask for directions." Restless fingers pluck at her food, finally tearing off a tiny piece of meatroll which finds its way to her mouth. Her gaze flickers to the entrance then back to her companion, that quizzical light lingering. "And why would you be /avoiding/ them? I still need to /meet/ them."

"It's fun." Miniyal smiles before taking up her cup for a drink and then setting it back down so she can hold it with both hands once more. "Getting lost. You find things. I don't get lost unless I try. I'm good at knowing where I am. Some people are, you know." Some people are slightly more modest about it as well, but not her. "Indoors anyway. Outdoors it's a little harder for me." At the mention of meeting the weyrleaders she looks puzzled. "Why would you want to? Meet them I mean. I've met them. It's not very exciting. Oh, but if you are. . .has anyone warned you about them?" Here she is, being helpful again.

The puzzled light lingers faintly, but her smile is more admiration than anything - a dangerous thing when it comes to Miniyal. "Really? Gosh, I wish /I/ was good at that. You seem to be good at an awful lot, you know?" That little piece of meatroll finds her mouth, then she chews, shoulders lifting and dropping in a little shrug. "I want to meet them because they're the Weyrleaders, I guess? You know, making contacts or something..." she trails off, then simply shrugs again. "I haven't ever met a Weyrleader before." At that last she flicks a glance around then scoots her chair closer, leaning forward ever so slightly with a conspiratorial air. "Warned me?"

Blinking several times, Miniyal stares at Fienne and then laughs quietly. "I'm not really good at much to be honest. You just. . .I don't know. Anyone can learn how to find their way. It's easier with places than people." People cause her nose to wrinkle up and she taps a finger against the side of her mug. Her expression turns somewhat grim, definitely seriously. "Yes, warned you. Although they are not the worst. But, we'll get to him. Just. . .be cautious. I suppose when you've eaten. . .if you like, I can take you to them and introduce you. I worked for the weyrwoman for a short time. She's all right, but she's got ideas and she likes to lure people into them without always thinking about what will come of it with them. Just. . .be wary of offers made to you I think. And try to keep in mind that just because she seems nice does not mean she always is. As for the weyrleader." Now she stops, trying to decide just what to say. "He's a drunken dog. Some people like being pawed by such and others avoid being alone with him. He's looking out for himself above all. And he sees women as inferior and to be used by him. Just. . .umm. Really, don't be alone with him unless you want to be added to his list of women he's coerced into bed. Other than the drunken dog thing I suppose he could be worse. Other than the temper. And the lousy sense of humor. And the raging ego. Oh, and his inability to not think of himself first. But other than that he's not bad."

Fienne quickly shakes her head, waving a hand in protest though her mouth is full and she'd never talk around her food, even to argue a point. She seems intent on disagreeing with Miniyal's assertion that she's not good at much, but by the time she swallows her companion is on to even more interesting topics. As she gives her dissertation first on Roa then on R'vain, Fienne's brows slip ever upward and upward. By the time she's done, the poor girl's eyes are wide and her mouth is open a bit, shock clear there. "Why! You shouldn't talk about your Weyrleader that way. Besides, bronzeriders have... you know, needs. If girls go places alone with him I'm sure whatever happens there is none of my business." Sniff. She really looks more uncomfortable with the whole topic than truly judgemental of Miniyal's opinion, fingers fluttering around her plate ineptly. "I... well, I guess I appreciate your looking out for me just the same."

"Oh, please. I knew them both before they were anything. R'vain's always been a drunk and he always will be. Just because he has a new knot doesn't mean I'll change my opinion of him. That's ridiculous." Miniyal's head tilts to the side and then she just gives the other woman a shrug. "Hey, you want to be molested against your will it's your call. I'm just telling you what I know after living here my entire life. Just remember what you said when it's you he's cornered somewhere alone." Now her eyes narrow thoughtfully. "Well, unless you want that. In which case. . .well, ewww. But whatever." Her head shakes and she waves a hand to dismiss that topic. "But the real person to be wary of here is. . .ummm. Have you met the Headmaster yet?"

There's a mental teeter that takes place, though the only visible aspect is a pause, her eyes dropping to watch her ineffectually moving fingers. "Hmm." Finally she settles on another piece of meatroll, and takes the moment's distraction it offers, chewing slowly. "Well... If I want it than it won't be against my will, /or/ being molested. Just, you know, semantics. But as it is I did say thank you for watching out for me. I try not to be alone with any men I don't know, mostly." Mostly of course being the key, along with 'I don't know' which is a pretty vague distinction. At the mention of the headmaster Fienne's expression goes from mild contemplation to near horrow. "Gosh, Miniyal! Do you have mean things to say about all the leaders here? Because I'm supposed to /respect/ them." And she could make it hard you know.

At that last sentence, Miniyal has to choke back a laugh. It's very hard to do and she tries to partially conceal it with a drink, but she just winds up snorting into her klah. When she sets the cup down she shakes her head. "No. I rather like Heriet. She's not so bad. And my mother likes the weyrlingmaster so I have no opinion on him. He's a charming bastard anyway, but so far he doesn't seem horrid. If you don't want the truth I'm sorry to be burdening you with it. But you seemed somewhat lost and it seemed the nice thing to do to try to provide you with a map of people here. Forgive me for thinking you might benefit from my knowledge. I'll just be on my way." Righteous indignation she can do. Insulted, she is. Rising to her feet she takes up her book. "Go ahead and meet him with no warning."

Fienne wilts a bit - this is not going at all well or as she had hoped. "Miniyal-" she breaks off, her expression flickering rapidly through an earnest, pleading sort of a smile, and then on to something a bit more neutral. "I... I do appreciate hearing your opinion. It's just not something I'm used to. Besides, I already thanked you for looking out for me. Twice!" There's a hint of exasperation in her tone, and though she's still talking she doesn't rise or seem keen to go after the insulted Miniyal.

If Miniyal has any clue at all she's acting just like her mother she suppresses the knowledge. Lalala. She is not her mother. Nope. Ummm. Just a little. Enough that she appears satisfied enough to sit back down. And then even offers over a quiet, "No, I'm sorry. I'm just. . .No. I shouldn't have. Look, I'm sorry." It is a grudging apology, but it is one so Fienne should remember it as it is not likely to occur again. "Anyone will tell you the good things. It's not hard to ask around and find out what everyone thinks is good about our leaders. But few people will. . .will stand up and say what is not. Just be really careful around Sefton. He'll try to lure you into his influence with his charm and he thinks he's good looking and that women will fall for it. He's got his own agenda and if he thinks you can help him he'll try to convince you that he's going to help you too. It's all a game to him, Fienne. And if he does you a favor you'll be obliged to him. It's not a good place to be. Your best bet is to fly under him. Don't draw attention to yourself. And don't get dragged into one of his little conversation games. He'll learn more about you then the reverse."
Fienne lets out a little sigh of relief - she can't help it or cover it up it seems. The smile that finds its way to her lips carries a similar air and she reaches out to brush her fingertips feather light across Miniyal's sleeve. Thanks and reassurance all at once, and then her hand is back in her lap, quick as a wink. "Don't be sorry. I really do appreciate someone looking out for me. But I'm representing my m- er, Hold and I have to watch what I say you know. I do have to be /respectful/." There's a big difference between respecting a person and acting respectful, and the stress on that final word seems to acknowledge that. Rather than huffing indignantly she listens as Miniyal continues on about Sefton, a frown touching her brow before being banished by a light smile. "Well I think I'm probably safe in that case. I doubt he'll try to charm me, and I sure can't help the Headmaster of Caucus and Fort's heir with anything. Little me? I think it should be easy enough for me to escape notice altogether." She dips a nod, sure of herself in this if little else.

Miniyal sets her book back down on the table so she can finish off her klah. "It's true. Appearances are important." For people other than her it seems. "Eventually you figure out what to say and whom to say it to. Ummm. Well, that's what I am told. I am assured someday I'll get this whole conversation thing right, but I think I am just being humored." Down tilts her head then to stare at the ring on her finger with an adoring smile that is nearly gone when she looks up again. "Just remember. Silence is best. If you can't think of anything to say that won't offend just smile politely and be quiet. Most people fall for it. However, I wouldn't be too sure about not being noticed. It's just exactly people like you he tries to lure in. He finds out what you want, offers you something else. . .Lots of people fall for it. Anyway. Are you finished? Want to meet the fearless leaders? If so I'll just run into the kitchen and get something to bring them. Lunch interrupted and all. It never hurts to show up with something."

Fienne nods along with all of this in easy agreement. Right you are, Miniyal, right you are. "I don't know about humoring... you seem just fine at conversation to me." Then again, Miniyal is practicing, right? "I do try to just smile and nod much of the time, but mostly because I can't think of anything smart to say, not inoffensive. Still, it works either way." At the question she drains the rest of her juice then nods, albeit hesitantly. "But... aren't they busy? I mean with the clutching and all? I don't want to interrupt them." Especially since they are child-eating monsters and all that.

Rising to her feet, taking up her book, Miniyal laughs quietly. "Nonsense. They'll have people bothering them constantly right now. Best time to meet them. Look, I'm going to run into the kitchen and grab those pastries Corin was working on. I'll be right back. Go commandeer a pitcher of juice and a couple cups. Trust me. I have worked for two weyrwomen and a weyrleader in my day. I know what to do." Of course, she quit two of those jobs and was fired from the other, but really. Details! She does sound so sure. Even offers an encouraging smile before she heads to the kitchen. Clearly she expects Fienne to listen to her because she doesn't wait around to see if her suggestion is taken.

Who is Fienne to argue with the voice of experience? Especially spoken in such confident and commanding tones. She simply nods with a liberal dose of anxiety lingering, then bends to heft up her bookbag. It seems ready to unbalance her, but she manages to pad on over to the meal table for a tray and aforementioned juice and cups. Condensation beads on the former, so she tosses a napkin around the base of the pitcher to keep it from making a leaky mess. Balancing ever so carefully she goes to hover by the entrance to the bowl, nibbling at her lower lip as her eyes dart out toward the hatching cavern. Clearly, she's not sure this is such a good idea.

Nothing Miniyal has ever done has gone poorly. Well, as far as someone new to the weyr would know! So when Miniyal appears with a covered plate she smiles an encouraging smile towards the caucus student. At least there's not a lot of people right here then. "Want me to take that?" See, she even offers to help. "I just have the book and all. Here, let me take something and hopefully I don't trip and fall." Serious and amused at the same time as she holds out her hands for something. "Then follow me." Assuming she is handed something, she'll carry it away and over to the boring excitement and fun fun introductions.

Fienne looks determined and shakes her head for a moment, then decides to unload herself of the tray long enough to leave her bookbag shoved up against the wall. Who'd want her books anyhow? Then with just the tray of drinks she follows.

(Travel to galleries.)

A pair of younger riders, a few turns out of weyrlinghood, engage in some idle chatter as they watch the scene of egg-laying below. "Has the new Weyrlingmaster come by yet?" "I dunno. I expect he will." "Yeah, maybe just to bark some orders at the eggs." "You sorry lot! Harden faster! Hatch sooner!" "Sure isn't run the way it was when we were weyrlings." The banter dissolves into a bit of snickering as they recall the mischief they managed under the former Weyrlingmaster.

Because she is a fine, upstanding, wonderful, nice, polite girl she has brought one of the weyr's newer temporary residents to watch what is going on. Miniyal and Fienne enter together, the first carrying a book under her arm and a covered plate. Fienne has a tray bearing a pitcher and a couple of mugs. Once they're in the galleries Miniyal pauses to look around and get her bearings. "Trust me, it's always best to meet people when they are distracted. They pay less attention and you're less likely to make an ass of yourself. Oh, umm. Not that I think you would. I am mostly speaking from personal experience. Do you see them?" Rising onto her toes she looks around for their victims. . .errr, targets.

And because she is new and generally a bit naive, Fienne has willing allowed herself to be led to the proverbial slaughter. She follows along behind Miniyal with a smile that melds anticipation and anxiety into one tremulous curve. Wide eyes skitter here and there, trying to take in all of the unfamiliar details at once. When Miniyal speaks she receives a blank look. "Hmm? Oh, right." They're here to /meet/ someone. She tiptoes herself and peers around, then shrugs. "Um, is that them over there? I haven't met them yet you know." Still, even from afar R'vain's red bulk is sort of hard to miss.

"That ain't nothing you ain't heard me say before," the Weyrleader lowly informs his Weyrwoman. He's by the rail, next to her, leaning into an elbow and glaring down at Tialith-- who, given the generous number of eggs she's produced so far, can't likely have done anything to earn so fierce an expression. R'vain's jacket is off, draped over the rail beneath his arm. At the remarks from the riders in the stands a low rolling sound starts to rattle around in the back of the big red man's throat-- laughter. "You hear that," he mutters to Roa, suddenly all too willing to forgive whatever her slight might have been.

Because she is the weyrwoman, Roa's attentions are currently on the happenings below and the small mounds of eggs that are slowly compiling. "Something new to hear you say it to a holder," is her rubuttal. She is blessedly oblivious to Miniyal's good intentions and guest in tow, but her head does duck down, inner cheek bitten, at some of the chatter going on in the stands. "Trying hard...to pretend I didn't. Seems a bad idea...snrk...to laugh."

Oh, look, that is them. Miniyal lets out a weary sigh and then nods once. "All right then. Here we go." Indeed, here she goes, leading the way down to the rail with Fienne to follow. She's quiet then, offering nothing over her shoulder because she has to focus on carrying something while taking stairs and that's more than she can really handle. Especially in a crowd. So until she reaches the illustrious weyrleaders there's silence from her. Then she clears her throat. "Ran off without lunch." Wrinkling her nose she adds, "Other than what fit in pockets of course. So I got Corin to send along some pastries." Stepping to one side she gestures to Fienne. "And juice. Oh, this is Fienne. Student." As if the pin did not give it away. "She was kind enough to help me carry. This is Roa and R'vain." Casual. No big deal. Yea, right.

From the sands, Moving again, Tialith pads over to each of the few trenches thus far dug and filled. Perhaps a maternal instinct is kicking in, because gently, she begins to nose hot sand more completely over the eggs laid thus far. In the galleries, several of those trying to keep count groan in protest.

Down stairs? Oh dear. Fienne's instinct is to reach for a rail, but letting go of the tray would be a really bad idea, so she just clamps her hands around it and takes a deep breath. Her footsteps are even slower than Miniyal's as she tries to navigate the stairs without spilling redfruit juice all over the place, and as such she's just stepping up as Miniyal introduces her. She lifts the tray helpfully toward them, and offers, "I carried some juice," in a whispery breath of a voice. Once the words are out she sighs softly - such a lame thing to say - but she's quick to summon a carefully light smile back to her lips. "Um, nice to meet you sir, ma'am." Her eyes skitter over R'vain, wide and wary, and soon dart off without making eye contact. Roa is busy stifling a laugh so she gets a moment more before Tialith's movements draw the holdbred girl's attention.

"So long's /he/ ain't here himself-- " R'vain's going to laugh anyway, so there. Until, that is, Miniyal interrupts the moment of humor by being a good and helpful servant, as ever she is, as always she is, bringing lunch and new Caucus members in need of introduction. She does this sort of thing so often; it must be the usualness of it all that has R'vain turning from the rail to stare quite frankly at Miniyal as if he rather expects her hair to catch on fire. "Y'brought. F'us?" No, see, that's almost reasonable. "F'me?" And then he jerks a nod to Fienne, glancing at her-- the glance sticks. Oh. For him. How nice. He grins, all teeth. "So kind," he growls, too pleased, and puts out paws to offer the tray out of her hands.

Words not spoken by her or by R'vain have Roa looking over her shoulder. Miniyal. Check. Tray...odd, but check. New girl whom Miniyal is helping. The weyrwoman blinks slowly and her mouth opens to say something. Only the weyrleader speaks first. This has Roa's eyes widening and nearly rolling, but instead she smiles. "Well met, Fienne." And then, under her breath, "for Faranth's sake, man, one at a time at least."

Age brings wisdom, or seniority, or something good, for a as a group of aunties arrive, they claim seats near the front. Another day these will belong to dignitaries, but today they belong to the dignified oldsters, who engage the nearby children in a bout of hushed story-telling.

"The food, R'vain. Not the woman. Leave her be." Miniyal glares at the weyrleader and shakes her head. Then she looks over at Fienne in a 'see, I told you so' sort of way. Shaking her head she looks at Roa. She gets the 'sheesh, keep him in line already look'. There are a hundred looks Miniyal can give and she expects everyone to interpret them correctly. "Fienne is from High Reaches." More slowly she adds, as she looks at the weyrleader. "The hold. Not the weyr. There are /two/ of them." Glancing at Fienne she grins. "You have to speak slowly so he understands." She's in a fine mood. Not everyone might appreciate it, but she is, indeed, well, in some sort of mood.

Fienne releases the tray to those large hands, quickly pulling hers back once he's got a grip on it as if out of range of a fire sure to burn her. She keeps that polite smile on her lips but there is a tightness around it, and her eyes dart around her quickly as if to confirm that the other occupants of haven't disappeared, leaving her unexpectedly alone with the Weyrleader. Thankfully, the area remains crowded and hopefully that means she is safe. For now. Liquid blue eyes dart to Miniyal as if to confirm this hope, tucking her hands behind her waist and taking a tiny step backwards. Space is a good thing in this case. Roa gets another of those carefully polite smiles and she nods. "Well met, ma'am." Miniyal's introductions seem to have stolen all the words she'd usually rattle off so she goes with her guide's advice and just holds that curve on her lips, albeit a bit blankly. With that expression it looks like all the murmurings go over her head, but when her blue eyes land on R'vain that wary look flickers back into them.

"Course not." It's an answer to Miniyal, but it would play better as one if R'vain would stop looking at Fienne. He has manners enough to keep his eyes on her face-- for now-- but isn't the face good enough for a taste? His tongue thinks so; it slinks up over his upper teeth, then vanishes in silence, unsatiated. "From High Reaches t'Caucus. Especially welcome then, Fienne." He can /sound/ mannerly, even a little ingratiating, and he inclines his head just a bit lower in another nod before turning a bit to display the tray in his hands for Roa to consider. "Juice?" The word's sharper than it has to be, teasing, taunting. Try and stop me.

The weyrwoman looks down at the tray with drinks and then up adnd over at the weyrleader. Back down to the tray, which keeps his hands occupied, and then up, again, to the weyrleader. "No. Thank you." Smile. She looks, then to Miniyal and notes, "It can be easier, when he doesn't understand." And then to Fienne, another nod. "Welcome. Don't worry. He shows his teeth far more than he uses them."

At High Reaches, even spring is not immediately warm enough to stave off cold season. A cluster of women are seated near the back of the galleries, honking and snuffling as they rub handkerchiefs against reddened noses. "Hey, Silva. You notice a lot of the riders have been takin' their girls off on trips outta the weyr lately?" "Spring. Better weather." "Not /that/ much better." "Well y'couldn't get the tea for a while. Maybe they're just, y'know, tyin' up loose ends." "Oooh. I bet they are at that." And then it's back to nose-blowing.

Well, she did warn the girl. Luckily he'll do the rest for warnings. Since she is not new, or attractive, or interesting Miniyal just stands there with the covered plate. There is, perhaps, a slight sigh. Corin will scold her if she thinks the pastries got cold on her account, but what can she do. When Roa speaks she she looks at her. "Must make it easy for you all the time." So sweet she sounds as she stays closes to Fienne for now. Protection, yes? Because it is her who brought the girl here into the lion's den. "She's never seen this before so I thought I'd bring her over so she didn't have to find her map. And it seemed rude not to bring a little something since we were headed over here anyway." Helpful, nice, polite. Ok, fine. It means she's up to something.

Fienne's eyes can't help but drift back over to R'vain, he's talking to her after all. She swallows hard, her tongue making an audible little 'click' as it leaves the roof of her mouth. "Oh, gosh, thank you Weyrleader, sir." Nervous even in the face of his seeming manners, perhaps moreso because of them, she wets her lips then just brings now empty hands around to fiddle restlessly with a fold in her skirt. To Roa then, with eyes wide, "His teeth?" It's akin to a squeak, the high pitch of the word in her already too breathy voice, and her gaze is back on R'vain again, R'vain and that mouth too full of too perfect teeth. And then small feet are carrying her a bit behind Miniyal, just enough so their arms over lap in some semblence of protection - a shield. "Um, are you sure you don't want any juice though? It's nice and cold and it /is/ a bit warm in here." Or maybe that's just the proximity to to feral green eyes Miniyal was so polite to arrange.

And making his way back into the galleries, a somewhat sheepish-looking boy from Nabol. This time, he does not venture to approach the weyrwoman, but rather finds himself a place near the rail and starts on the probably vain venture of, "One...two...three...shards, she's moving them."

The Weyrleader smirks at Roa, then back at the student from High Reaches. "She wouldn't know," R'vain pleasantly informs Fienne in a low voice, an aside meant /just/ for her; then he's politely (yes) attentive to Miniyal's explanation for the visit, and even alert enough to remark, "Somethin' t'ask you, by th'way, Min'yal, some other time. Don't let me f'get." One shoulder lifts and drops. "S'pose I could put this down," he notes, because he'd have to if he were to pour juice, and jerks his chin toward the nearest bench empty of spectators with a speculative, throaty little grunt of near-indifference.

From the sands, Tialith's perusal of her clutch thus far comes to an abrupt end as her body decides it's time to lay a few more. Another trench, longer than the others, is hastily created. The queen positions herself, and with a rippling of muscle beneath golden sides, deposits five more eggs onto the sands.

"I suppose you could..." but then Roa blinks slowly, brows shooting up, as Tialith drops five. /Five/. "Wow." Another look, quizzical, is set to R'vain. Is that...usual? "Anyhow. Juice. And pastries. Might as well set one down if you set down the other." Miniyal is given a long and thoughtful study for her explanation of kindness.

If Fienne wants to hide behind her she'll do her best to give her a spot. Although it's not likely to help overly much. Still, Miniyal will do her part. Although it was Fienne who wanted to meet the weyrleaders. Ah, well. "Oh, I'll be sure to track you down as soon as I can." Shaking her head she gives R'vain a brilliantly sweet smile. He's seen it before, usually before she says something really tormenting or mean. However, this time no words come. None. She just gives him that smile and spares the sands only a brief flicker of her attention. Eggs. Exciting. It looks like she might say something else, but no more words come.

Fienne's attention on the other hand, is quite taken by arrival of nearly half a dozen new eggs. Her brows dart up and she gives Miniyal a look similar to the one R'vain gets from Roa. Five? But then the Weyrleader is talking of setting down the tray and she hurries out from her hiding spot, holding out hands to relieve him of his burden. "Silly me, I should have just done that and poured you a drink, too. Let me take care of this while you..." she trails off, a frown touching her brow, then she just nods toward the sands blankly. Surely the Weyrleader has /something/ to do with this whole process. Hopefully, anyhow, as in her haste to be helpful she has left the safety of Miniyal's arm behind and is suddenly right in front of the looming Weyrleader. Her lips quirk, then the careful smile on them settles tremulously, her eyes dropping to the tray where they stick fast.

From the sands, That last effort seemed to take a bit more out of her, and after carefully burying the newest eggs, Tialith moves to a blank spot on the sands to lower her still-bulky frame down and have a little rest.

"I wondered if she'd been holdin' back--" The Weyrleader shakes his head, having noted, evidently, that sudden exertion and five-egg result. "Good of you, Min'yal, 'ppreciate it." R'vain sounds perfectly civil, and not even a whole lot like he's planning to make her into his next meal. That's the sort of thing that's really too good to last, though, what with Fienne stepping up so bold. "Oh, I wouldn't ask you t'take it back. S'heavy enough." And look, he'll even pause to glance over at Miniyal-- "Why don't you put 'em down, Min'yal? I can hold this one, there's room for that one on th'bench." Another jerk of his head to suggest the spot. Eyes for Fienne then: "/You/ could pour, y'like. I'll just hold." Gleam.

"Oh for..." Roa can only stare at R'vain with something between frustration and annoyance. And then a look back at the sands where the gold's resting. "I need to see about moving my infirmary shift around, if she's going to be at this for a while. It was nice to meet you, Fienne. Miniyal, I'm sure we'll bump into one another again, soon." A small smile is offered the girls, a small glare is offered the weyrleader, and then the weyrwoman is heading for the steps while there's a bit of a pause on the sands.

With a wave to Roa as she departs, Miniyal keeps an eye on R'vain. Of course, she also notices how Fienne is acting and she mumbles something under her breath. It's probably not really nice, but it's hard to make out so she does ok. If the girl's going to be dumb she won't save her. Neither does she set down her burden. She just holds it and watches the two of them.

Kenathan shakes his head and inquires of anyone near, "How *does* the Weyr get an accurate count of them. Ask the queen?" She would know how many there were. He sounds genuinely curious.

Fienne just dips the smallest little nods and straightens her back a bit, then obligingly fills a mug with juice. With a shaky little breath she sets the pitcher back down, then moves backward on quick little feet. In a mirror of his earlier gesture, /she/ nods to the bench, managing a soft, "You'll need at least one hand to drink that you know." And yes, she only poured one mug - one for him. Something about Roa's departure makes Fienne's eyes widen a bit and she inhales a quick little gasp. "Oh, gosh, I was just going to grab a bite and now I'm probably late for class. Um, nice to meet you again, sir." That last is tossed almost casually as Fienne turns to go, but after taking a few steps she scampers back and leans in to Miniyal, murmuring something in her ear. For all that her words are soft enough to be barely audible in most cases, the murmur leaves a few to be heard by someone close and listening, namely, 'polite' and 'floozy'. And then with a final backward glance at the Weyrleader, she's off.

Thank you for giving Fienne a pat on the back! You included the comment: I am enjoying watching Fienne acclimate. Poor thing. It's very exciting to watch outsiders learn whom to trust. ME, of course!

The backward glance has as its reward this confirmation-- R'vain watching her, tongue-tip poised on the sharp point of one eye tooth. The distance of his focus allows him to be distracted by Kenathan's return and question, though, and the Weyrleader raises his voice a bit to explain, "Y'wait for 'er t'finish. She'll sleep then, and it's easier t'count." A look at Miniyal starts to turn into a thoughtful, crooked grin then-- "What's that she said?" Of course now that Fienne's gone, he can turn to put the tray down on the bench-- sideways, so there's room for the pastries too, which there was, of course, room all along.

"She said she was late for class and had to get going." Clearly it was easy to hear, but obviously R'vain has a hard time understanding simple phrases so she doesn't mind repeating. Still holding her pastries she considers and then does set them down. Once the plate is down she lifts the cloth covering them and takes one for herself. Hey, there's plenty and she did carry them. Sweet iced rolls. How can she resist. Clearly she cannot. With it in her hand and the book still safely tucked under one arm she glances at Kenathan when his question is answered. Then back to R'vain. "That question?"

"Not /that,/" R'vain grumps aside to Miniyal. He pours a second glass of juice before picking up the one Fienne poured, gesturing with it at the second, offering the newer one for Miniyal to take to go with her pastry. "Something I wanted t'ask you about hearing, and tellin' me. But maybe not here." The Weyrleader lifts a shoulder and lets it drop.

Three riders watching near the front of the galleries are chatting as they observe the proceedings below. "I hear that healer that lost her post can be hired to give massages, now." The second one snorts. "Why would I pay for that, when I can go down to the lower caverns and get myself a fine 'massage' for free?" "No, you dullard," snickers the third, "A real massage. For medicinal purposes. Improved health." "Hey, the lower caverns girls are medicinal. I always feel heaps better after." "Not much of a wonder that he impressed bronze, is it." "Nope. It's really not." "Hey!"

"Ahh. I have no idea what other things she might have said." Miniyal smiles warmly before taking a bite of her pastry. Then she reaches for the other cup so she can take a sip from it. "Sure. I'll stop by tomorrow? I don't think I have anything planned. Busy schedule and all." Now she's being sarcastic, but since it's directed at herself it's perfectly all right. "So, I guess this means more idiots running around soon. I swear, it's like I've got this sign on my back that draws anyone who just got here to me. It's so annoying." Annoying enough that she fed one to the wolves. Ok, that probably wasn't her intention.

Kenathan leans on the railing for a moment. "Makes sense. I'm sure *she* knows how many they are." A pause. "I don't even know how many there usually are, like...on average. Never been to a Hatching or anything like that."

"T'morrow sounds great. Uh. After breakfast." Just some advice, you know, and after that the Weyrleader steps back from the juice and pastries, leaning into the rail with his juice in one paw, so far unsipped despite the heat; water droplets condense on the glass' surface. "Y'want t'steer clear of 'em you're in th'wrong place, y'know. Th'searchriders'll be out in about an hour, no 'fall t'morrow." A beat. "Low thirties since about a turn before Pass," R'vain tosses off toward Kenathan then, casual-careless, the information evidently something he carries around in his head.

"Blood, screaming, people fainting. Seen one hatching seen them all." Miniyal raises her voice loud enough for Ken to hear her then takes another bite of her pastry. "No one's died in awhile. I think the pool for that bet has gotten pretty high." What? She was going to be nice forever? Not that it's particularly mean what she says. Just not helpful. Looking back to R'vain she shakes her head. "Yes, well. I didn't have a choice. She thought she had to meet you and Roa so I took her to do that. I was behaving nicely. It seems to be giving people the wrong idea. After breakfast. I am so looking forward to it."

The news filters through the weyr until it finally reached Vanya's ears. More from curiosity than a vested interest in the hatching, she makes her way from the living cavern to the hatching galleries. There are enough people for her to slip inside fairly unnoticed, which she does, taking a seat on one of the lower tiers. Her eyes scan the sands, pausing on the golden queen, watching quietly. She's obviously been working on hides -- perhaps with Sinopa? -- since she carries a leather satchel, and there are a few ink stains on her fingertips. A few faces are recognizable, and she offers a nod to those she knows should they look in her direction. Otherwise, the healer sits quietly, observing the proceedings in silence.

There's a couple of riders high in the stands who are suddenly very interested in poking a third rider, evidently their buddy, a bronzerider. Poke, elbow, nudge. After a short bit of this all three of them are looking at Vanya-- then, just as suddenly, all three of them are suspiciously quiet, grinning down at the sands. It takes a while for the bronzerider among them to break their sudden silence by saying, "Improved health, huh."

"What," replies R'vain, leaning into the rail, head turned to keep an eye on Miniyal. "You got marks /in/ that pot?" He grins widely for a moment, then shakes his head and gazes back out over the eggs and the resting queen. "Was nice of you t'introduce 'er. Y'know why th'Reaches sent her?"

Kenathan has fallen quiet. Not even attempting to count any more, at least not out loud. "And a few sevendays before they Hatch...a lot faster than most babies. Except, like...felines." He looks thoughtful at that. "Dragons must grow really quickly."

"I don't make bets. Got to hoard my marks for emergencies. You know, if I accidentally say the wrong thing to the wrong person and have to flee to somewhere or something." She is not seriously, really. Much. Well, it's hard to tell sometimes with Miniyal. She doesn't bother trying to make it easy. "What? No. Caucus student. I don't think she told me more than her name. Relative works on the staff at the hold. Assistant to the headwoman or something. Maybe she wants the spot?" She may have only told her name, but that means nothing, doesn't it? "Well, someone had to set her straight about the people around here." Indeed. She allows the expert to answer Ken's question.

From the sands, Heat rises from the sands, elevating the temperature to the point of discomfort for most of those in the galleries.

"They been growin' in her insides f'months," R'vain notes with a glance up at Kenathan. "Three." Months. A shrug and finally he gives in and swigs down a gulp of the juice, condensation streaking down the sides of the glass and dripping off of his smallest knuckle. He swallows hard, refixing his eyes on Miniyal with a grin that is, at least, not entirely unpleasant. "That'd make th'second one from Reaches th'same way. Lord Samien's featherin' that nest good."

Vanya is, perhaps thankfully, totally unaware of the three riders or their scrutiny. She seems more interested in the sands and the eggs, studying alternately the eggs already laid on the sands, the queen and those gathered she can see. The weyrleader is noticed, as are those talking with him, but no real effort is made to gain his attention. The almost oppressive heat has her fanning her face with a hand shortly after arriving, and the table of drinks and food soon joins the scrutiny. Finally, she rises, leaving behind her satchel on the seat, making her way toward something refreshing to drink.

From the sands, Several mounds now grace the sands, and Tialith pushes back up to her feet so that she can begin a slow lap to survey them all. She stops now and again to nose at a partially buried egg, or adjust where one lies in the sand.

Kenathan hrms a little bit. "So...three months in the dragon, a couple more as eggs...and how long as baby dragons?" he inquires, with the curiosity of one who knows little of such things. He also looks around to see if there's any more juice where that came from.

Her shoulders shrug because she's busy chewing on the last of her pastry so cannot answer. However, once Miniyal has washed it down with a bit of juice she tilts her head to one side. "Well, not sure that's her plan. I just figure that's likely it since she was sent to Caucus and apparently you can't do a thing these days unless you've been. Clearly life experience and self training mean not a thing. Still, be interesting to see what happens I suppose. In a boring sort of interesting way." Other than the fact she's clearly taken an interest there's nothing exciting at all going on, is there? Dragon questions don't interest her either and she begins to glance about, quite possibly to make her escape soon.

Tialith's renewed interest seems to set the Weyrleader at some sort of ease and, like Miniyal, he has a look around before scooping up his jacket off the railing, stretching his spine straight once more. "Only five sevens on th'sands," he rattles off for Kenathan, and a little lower for Miniyal's benefit solely, "Given how well it seems some people these days've attended t'th'Harper lessons, maybe we got t'have Caucus t'sweep up the mess." His nose wrinkles, and he scopes up the stands again-- this is hardly the place for such a conversation-- and with jaw tense he mumbles, "Too hot." His excuse for finishing the juice from his mug, then stepping forward to return it to its tray.

Into the galleries file two weyrlings, co-opted by someone or other to bear refreshments; one boy settles down with his jug to pour himself a long, cold drink. The other begins to make the rounds, offering snacks from a tray.

With a few steps, Vanya has reached the drinks and pastries. A polite nod is offered to R'vain, and a soft, "Congratulations on what appears to be a fine, large clutch, Weyrleader," is spoken. Miniyal and Kenathan, too, are given a nod and a quite, "Hello," as she looks to the two weyrlings. "May I have one of those?" she inquires of young men, not really wishing to interrupt the Weyrleader's conversation. Once she has acquired a snack and a drink, Vanya regards the queen as Tialith inspects the eggs already on the sands. Nor does she immediately return to her original seat, but remains near the railing down front, standing not far from the Weyrleader, Kenathan and Miniyal.

"Yea. We should talk about it tomorrow. Got a few things to say." Doesn't she always. Especially to the insufferable man she's speaking with. However, she seems done talking as she sets her mug down on the tray she had carried here by the poor girl she brought with her. Miniyal grabs her book from under her arm and holds it in her hand. "Pleasure as always, weyrleader. Give my regards to Roa when she wanders back." Vanya's arrival doesn't seem to be noticed since she's busy making her goodbye to the one she was talking to. Frowning a moment she tips her head over and then smiles lightly. "Figure the hold doesn't need two, right? Have a new one here eventually. Could be useful." See? She shares! Then she rolls her eyes and heads off away from the heat and the people.

"Maybe." R'vain's rumble is suspicious and telling, but neither the suspicion nor the tell are Miniyal's to bear; they're hers to interpret if she likes, but so be it. The Weyrleader /does/ lift her a wave as she departs, then backs up from leaving his empty mug on the tray to lean again against the rail, evidently glad enough for this day's excuse to be idle, if overwarm. With jacket still tucked over arm he seems about to leave himself, but takes time enough to tip Vanya a nod-- "Healer."

The weyrling holds the tray still for Vanya to take from, answer enough to her question; when she's got her snack he'll move along.