Turn's End: Living Cavern (Part 4)
Location: Living Cavern
Time: Turnover between Turn 1 and 2
Players: Everyone!
Scene: Strange becomes mysterious.
Yevide enters from the bowl outside.
"Well," T'ral begins to reason thoughtfully. "Guards went thataway, and something else is happening thataway." A nod of his head indicates the bowl, the bangs, and the bright colours. "Can we get in too much trouble if we head in the other direction?" One arm is absently around Ginella, too familiar a posture to be proper.
Lifting her glass, Aida drinks what little is left in it, then eyes it once it's empty. Oh look, empty glass. How convenient. The young woman abandons her quest for the table she'd been aiming at, instead circling back away to head for the table with the wine. On her way, she stops some passing woman, apparently asking a curious question and initiating a bit of light chatter. Such a sunny smile.
Miniyal heads from one corner to another, not bothering to come to a full stop even. She just grabs a glass of whatever is closest and gulps down half of it before she's safely in her new corner. Lingering there she watches everyone, considers the dancers with a shake of her head, and leans against the wall there being no chair to steal here.
"Well, I could try to get some drunken dragonrider to drop me back home," Aelan chuckles wryly at Dara's question. "But you know, Father did always say that drinking and riding almost always ended in a crash. Besides, he'd probably just ship me off again anyhow. No hiding during a Pass." She drains the last of her wine then, considering the empty glass. "So I suspect I'll probably be here," she concludes with a sardonic grin.
"Nabol," notes E'sere to S'lien, "has been entertaining Fort's offers of coverage. I'm sure the first Weyr will do its part in ensuring the continued prosperity of its new Holding. You needn't worry that the Reaches will neglect its own borders." Like his cousin, he settles briefly into a chair, sipping his drink as he glances sideways at his companion. "Oh, I don't know. I do what I can, of course. You should worry about Telgar more, cousin--we seem to get all your troublemakers these days," he jibes, with a grin to match S'lien's. "As for our queens? Mm. My marks are on Nenuith, though... It has been some time since Citalth rose as well." A shrug. "I sincerely doubt that. The Reaches has more than enough capable bronzeriders without importing another, one who's unfamiliar with, and to, our Weyr."
"Well then, we're between a rock and a hard place. Whatever disturbance inside--" Br'ce gestures with his glass towards the lower caverns, "--and the explosions outside. Neatly trapped, if I do say so myself." he observes with somewhat morbid humor. "Perhaps it's some sort of planned surprise. Did your captain look particularly worried when he left?" he asks curiously. The 'your' captain being somewhat of a slip of the tongue--he's still not used to thinking of himself as from High Reaches. "Ah, Aida." Br'ce waves his glass towards a nearby woman, trying to attract her attention. "I saw you earlier, but I was distracted by the hubbub outside."
*CrrrrrrACK!* Louder, still, than the one proceeding. Bright red and rich, rosy pink spiral outward from their place of fiery birth, sprouting spiky, temporary petals into the sky. A full circle of the light blazes brilliantly for a few seconds, hanging expectant before drifting down to the awaiting earth. A shrill, exuberant dragon-roar follows it, trilling at the end in high amusement. It's followed by a quick bang with more blue sparks that chase the snowflakes.
Penny nods at T'ral, as he works his way through it. Then she glances toward the kitchen. "I assume, since there's no sounds coming from the kitchen, that they went on down into the store rooms. And you know what a maze it is down there." All sorts of bad guys could be lurking there! Penny jumps again, another faint gasp escaping at the even louder bangs. "Sweet -Faranth-!" She bursts, and then looks back at the others, first at B'rce, then Ginella -- and then T'ral again. "I want to go," she says finally. "I don't like not knowing what's going on down there. She sets her wine glass aside on a nearby table, preparation to go toward the kitchens.
Issa recognizes the relief and furnishes a small nod in response, sparing another glance for Carina as she does so. "So we do," she retorts with a grin, lifting her wineglass, "And... properly attired, even." The greenrider tilts her head, grin widening before she decides to take a sip. She lets her gaze drift to the bursts of colored sparks, casually cradling her glass in both hands, which rest at the level of her waist. "I just thought I'd come and make all of the proper greetings expected of us at one of these things. Enjoying the... spectacle?"
Ginella eyes T'ral. "Which other direction?" she asks carefully. If the posture is improper, she doesn't notice or doesn't care, leaning very subtly into the brownrider's arm. Her empty wine glass is twirled absently before she starts at this loudest-yet explosion. "I certainly /hope/ that's just some entertainment, or we are all in quite serious trouble. Could we-- what?" Penny's announcement/request draws a gape from the goldrider. "We've all decided something strange is going on, and you want to go wander into it? In the windy dark maze of stores where they recently found a body? Are you mad?"
S'lien laughs at E'sere's response about troublemakes, winking over smugly. "With you getting all my troublemakers, I've little to worry about at Telgar anymore," he points out bemusedly. "And you forget, cousin," he adds with that wolfish smile, "High Reaches is my home Weyr. Casterlanth hatched on these sands. Took my training here, studied the Caucus here..." He trails off, smile hardening for a moment. "Ah, but it is a pit of politics, isn't it? Nothing ever quite goes as expected at High Reaches." A cold emerald gaze flicks to the bowl at the continued noise and light, smile retreating to one corner of his lips.
Essdara grins a bit. "Just so, though I admit I've seen many a rider mount up in the most appalling of conditions. I guess it helps that the dragons do the work." She shakes her head, looking around at the tense people and light chatter. "Is it me, Aelan, or did something get misplaced? Seems like the life has been taken out of this gather, doesn't it? Ah, well. I expect I should leave you in peace now, there will be others like him who want their fair chance at the lovely lady from Keroon, and I fear not all will be as... Pleasant... Towards someone in their way as he was."
Rysia arrives through the long tunnel that comes from the lower caverns.
"Oh, don't be silly," Aelan flashes a swift grin towards Dara. "No one's thinking about dancing now, anyhow. They're all distracted by the show out there." She considers a moment, placing her empty glass on a passing tray and exchanging it for a full before grinning back. "Hey, let's go get a closer look," she suggests, tipping her head towards the door and starting to work her way awkwardly through the crowd.
Stilling briefly when Br'ce waves his glass, Aida pauses in her conversation, then gives a dip of her head to the woman and murmurs something quietly. With that, she's turning and finding somewhere to set her empty glass, lifting her chin and putting on a polite smile as she approaches Br'ce and the others around him. The whole group of them get a very polite nod as she slips up to the one who called to her's side. "Sir," she greets him. Quietly. "Hello. I thought I heard my name -- apparently I wasn't imagining things?"
Essdara chuckles and shrugs, following after Aelan. "If you say so, Aelan." Towards the bowl, and the antics of her other friends, goes the cook.
"Ah," notes E'sere, raising a cautionary finger, "but High Reaches is my /home/." The difference between 'home' and 'home Weyr' is stressed, the wingleader leaning back in his chair more comfortably as he studies the man next to him. "Ah, well," he decides after a moment, lifting his shoulders again. "At least the Reaches can handle all of them, hmm? I don't believe any have dared start a fight with /our/ Weyrleader, at least." Pause. To S'lien's latter words, E'sere has a quick inclination of his head, acknowledging the truth of them with a simple, "Indeed."
Reyce's amused snort is interrupted by the loud crack of noise, as his free hand - the other one is carrying a wine glass - goes up to cover his ear. His grimace remains even after the hand moves away. "No," he says. "Not even remotely." His eyes flick across Issa's face, trying to get some kind of read on her. "I'd rather have skipped it, but my sister -" as he's careful to identify Carina - "is hunting." She's also listening, it happens, having turned to look back at Reyce a few moments ago, but is perfectly content to let him stick his foot in his mouth a bit longer.
In what appears to be the final hurrah, the explosions double - nay, triple! - in number and in fast succession. One - two - three - four - five - six! All in order, several colors and sizes flashing and dying in the air, now clouded with a sweet-smelling smoke, gleaming and glittering in the haze. Two dragon forms have suddenly disappeared, leaving the shimmering display untouched as it makes its lofty descent to the earth, gleaming and swirling. The first 'Reachian air show has officially concluded, it seems.
Miniyal takes another drink of her wine and eyes the cakes back halfway across the room. Cakes. But, no. She's had enough and surely her mother lectured her some about not eating too much. Or maybe she just doesn't want to brave the tables again.
Penny returns Ginella's stare calmly. "Mad? No. Annoyed, yes. Everyone's just enjoying the party, while something's obviously going on. I just want to find out what." She lifts her arms, pulling the tumble of curls off her neck and twisting into a knot at its nape, and smooths down her dress. Then she directs an amused glance at her friend. "We won't get that far," she says confidently. "The captain will have blocked off the entrance." She pauses, thoughtfully, and then turns to her wine glass. Picking it back up, she drains it in a few swallows and replaces it on the table. "The worst that will happen is a couple of the youngest guards stop us and hopefully share something of what's going on."
"No point in fighting with half of an old man, is there?" S'lien lowers his voice, at least, for that question to E'sere, smile wry. "No need. Everyone knows the competition lies with the dragons now." That quickly, the easy charm returns, the Telgari Weyrleader twisting around in his seat to look around. "Speaking of my dear transplants, though...They seem to have fled," he observes with some amusement.
"If you're headed down there, we should probably accompany you." Br'ce adds gravely on top of Ginella's concerns, glancing at T'ral with an uplifted brow. "I will confess to being intensely curious myself as to what's going on. Though much more inclined to wait until the dust settles and ask about the resolution afterwards." he grins. "No, you weren't imagining things. Though with the fireworks outside, I'm not surprised you didn't hear. Enjoying the party?" he engages in polite small talk with Aida. "We've been speculating about what the disappearance of the guards signifies."
"What? No, Sunshine, the /other/ distraction," T'ral hastens to assure Ginella. As Penny sets down her glass to make ready for the exploration, the brownrider does the opposite, and claims a large glass of beer. "I don't hear sounds any more, though." A glance goes sideways as Br'ce wades into his own version of small talk, but T'ral leaves him to it. That's what friends are for. "We'll leave the guards to it, though. They won't welcome us poking our noses in."
Aelan slips through the worst of the crowd just in time to catch the finally, a swift grin spreading across her features as she promptly begins to applaud. Somewhere, strictly speaking, that can probably be construed as polite.
"No point indeed," E'sere murmurs in reply to S'lien, his own voice lowered. "It'd just be cruel to ruin his last days so." It's perhaps an odd choice of words; surely he means his last days as Weyrleader. In any case, E'sere continues in a more normal volume, "So they do. How odd. And here I wold have expected them to be clamoring to speak to you. Were you in a mind to seek them out? I believe I saw one disappear that way." He gestures across the rooms, vaguely toward the kitchens.
Ginella looks somewhat mollified by Penny's excuse that they won't get anywhere, anyways, lips pressing together, "I suppose that's likely true." Br'ce and T'ral are both listened to, and by the end she's frowning, unsure what if anything has been decided. "It does sound as though they're finished outside," she agrees, "But I don't know if we ought to bother the guards at the door or not. You'd think if there were things we were supposed to know they would have told us."
Essdara grins up at the sky as the last of the pyrotechnics is extinguished, and gives Aelan an amused grin at her clapping. "I will say, weyrling or not, Tavaly is every bit the flier T'zen is. They are going to make an interesting pair, those two." She looks back up, squinting to watch them fly off into the dark. "Have you gotten to meet them? They are both good friends. I'd not have a dress at all tonight, Ifear, if not for Tavaly."
Rysia slips in from the lower caverns, and glances about, catching the bit of pyrotechnics, before searching for familiar faces. Catching sight of the cook, at least, the weaver-girl heads over towards Essdara, for the moment, not running into anyone too forcefully.
The grin from Br'ce seems to put Aida at ease, and her own grin briefly appears. Her hands end up clasped lightly behind her back, and she nods agreeably to his question. "I am," she tells him. "It's been very interesting, so far -- all sorts of people to watch. I hope you are, as well?" Beat. "And I'm not going to hazard a guess as to what the guards disappearing means; it could be any number of things, but if you all are going to go see, I will admit to my own concern."
"Too bad," Issa says, with a slight 'tsk' and an exaggerated tone of disappointment in her voice. She watches the last throes of the light show with nothing but a composed grin on her face. When it's finished, she continues, "All that planning, too. I'll have to tell the older students that they've failed to impress." The introduction of the sister is met with a polite smile and a nod, "Issa, rider of green Oshisyth." The necessary introduction is made hastily, but in a manner fitting of the formality of their surroundings. "Hunting?" she inquires then, a curious frown falling on her face as her gaze flickers between Reyce and Carina.
"Because when a patient is badly wounded," Penny says drily to Ginella, brow raised, "the first thing the healers tell them is 'Oh, you're probably going to die.'" She turns her eyes back to the kitchen. "No, they're not going to tell anybody anything until it's all over. If it's nothing, they'll tell us. If they tell us nothing..." She lifts a shoulder. "You don't know Jensen. He wouldn't interrupt the party with something unless he knew for fact that it would endager everyone, and even then I'm not sure creating a panic would be worth it." She smiles. "I doubt it's anything too serious," she dismisses, no doubt in an attempt to allay Ginella's concerns. "I'm just curious, is all. Is that so wrong?" She nods at B'rce. "So. Shall we?"
"I think I met Tavaly," Aelan answers Dara, taking a sip from her third glass of the evening. She's starting to look a little flushed now, though her smiles are certainly coming easier, as are the words. "She seemed friendly enough. I'll have to try to meet her again after this, let her know what I thought about it."
Kierom slowly comes back in from the Lower Caverns, smiling a little and spotting Essdara, heads to her as he glances around the room, and frowns.
S'lien chuckles, shaking his head to E'sere. "No, I think I'll be all right without chasing them down. Either they'll come back before I need to head back home, or they won't. High Reaches is never all that far away, you know," he observes with an easy smile.
Kierom whispers "where'd Jensen and the other guards go?"
"You two stay and enjoy the party." Br'ce nods at Ginella and T'ral, with the overly bland tone of someone attempting to conceal his own amusement. "Maybe catch a breath of fresh air. We'll go and see if we can't pull some information from the guards. Aida, would you like to join us as well? Who needs to speculate if we can find out from the horse's mouth, so to speak." The idea of getting involved seems to have put a bit of a excited flush on the bookish man's cheeks.
Essdara nods. "Well, she should be back eventually. She's promised me a dance tonight, and as you know, I don't let them go easily." She smiles to Rysia and Kierom as they approach. "Kierom, there you are. I lost you when you went off to dance with Tava..." She blinks as Kierom whispers a question to her, and looks around; a lack she hadn't noticed is suddently brought to light. "That's a very good question. I've not the slightest clue."
A small group of Igenite dignitaries part, and Yevide emerges. Sea-dark blue whirls around her, cut in traditional Igenite patterns, and one hand lingers at the beaten-gold torq that encircles her throat. A certain swing of her hips suffices to set skirts swishing. Guards mobilising? What of it? Colored explosions in the sky? Fascinating. The Igenite weyrwoman passes S'lien and E'sere with a quiet nod of greeting, but G'thon is her target; to the dessert table, and the Weyrleader's side.
Kierom frowns a little more ad he moves towards the kitchens. "I better go check and see....."
Kierom departs for the kitchens
E'sere nods once, glancing away from the party to his cousin again. "No, it's not," he agrees. "You never did say--how is Telgar? And the Weyrwoman Tallara? I thought--" his words pause briefly to track Yevide's passing with a nod to match hers before he continues "--I saw her enter with you, but if that were the case, you seem to have slipped your date as early in the evening as I did," the man notes, a brow arching in curious bemusement.
Reyce glances over his shoulder, his shoulders suddenly tightening when he realizes Carina's been listening. Not particularly ashamed of himself, instead he aims a glare her direction, which Carina receives with most pleasant of smiles. "Or fishing, or trolling, or any of Reyce's clever ways of alluding to my lack of husband." She steps forward, extending her hand to the greenrider. "Carina of Benden - rather obviously. A pleasure to meet you, Issa." That seems to be the stock phrase for introduction among Bendenites. Reyce lets her make her make her own introduction, taking the moment to gather his own composure and let his anger cool.
G'thon labors for some time over selecting just the perfect cake to form the second part of his supper. Marble it is. And a glass of wine. With both hands thus encumbered the Weyrleader turns from the serving tables, readied at last to tread back to his Wingleader and S'lien, perhaps to rescue one from the other. But the old man's ears must be keen to the sound of skirts swishing, for he stops halt at just the right moment to face Yevide's approach. Though his hands are full he welcomes her with them wide-spread - and the right-side smile with which he greets the Igenite weyrwoman is as bright in its honesty as the one he had for S'lien glowed with affectation. "Yevide," rolls out the Weyrleader, nothing more, droll and delighted.
"Br'ce, don't..." T'ral hauls himself up short rather than scolding, instead trying out a scowl on his friend. "If it's nothing, they won't thank you for interfering. If it's something, they /really/ won't thank you for interfering. Have a drink, ask later."
"Hello, Dara. Enjoyin' the gatherin'?" Rysia asks the younger woman, before looking after Kierom, a bit puzzled.
"I would," Aida agrees promptly, dipping her head. She straightens back up and sends her best smile in the direction of Ginella and T'ral, and then she's glancing between Penny and Br'ce. "Thank you." Further words are almost spoken, but with another look sent to dance between Ginella and T'ral, she falls back to silence again. The toe of one slippered foot taps on the stone behind her, lightly. Tap.
Penny turns her attention on T'ral, flashing him one of her so-charming smiles. "You're right, of course-- the fewer of us that go down there, the better. I'll let you all know what I find out." And with that, she slips away from the group, leaving behind both wine glass and company, heading for the kitchens.
"Aye, and they seem to be enjoying a charming conversation, don't they?" S'lien chuckles as he tilts in his chair to look over towards Tallara. "I've a limit for women's conversation about who's here with whom and what /are/ they wearing. Besides, once simply must stop and chat with family about how things are on the home front. Telgar's well, cousin. Lacks the air of home like this place, but there's something to be said for being Weyrleader."
Ginella bites on her lip, looking between Br'ce and Penny. "I don't..." she begins, shaking her head a little, "I don't know. I'd rather not go, I think," she admits. A hand comes up to touch T'ral's forearm to calm him, opening her mouth only to blink when Penny suddenly leaves. "Oh. Br'ce, go with her?" she asks the rider, "Please?" She'll stay here with T'ral.
"Not the slightest clue about what?" Aelan asks curiously as she hears Dara's answer to Kierom, looking around and rising on her toes to get a better look at anything strange.
Br'ce grins at his friend, looking boyishly excited. "Don't worry about it, Tiv, we're just going to ask around a little. No harm done. I'll tell you all about it when we get back. And I'll make sure she doesn't get into any trouble." he promises, as he extends an arm to Aida and follows in Penny's footsteps.
Aida promptly takes the offered arm, sending another smile to the pair being left in the cavern as she follows with him.
Br'ce, Penny and Aida depart for the kitchens. (Click here to follow them.)
Essdara shakes her head. "Guards are gone." She says, to both Rysia and Aelan. "Think he went to find out why." A conversation echoed around as more people notice their sudden absence. Essdara, though, shrugs a little. "Whatever it is, best if we stay well out of it." She looks to Rysia with a smile. "Oh, definately. It's been interesting. Have you met Aelan, of Keroon? Aelan, Rysia, one of the weyr's weavers and a good friend."
E'sere follows S'lien's glance to Tallara, finding his own Sinopa in the process. "Certainly," he agrees dryly. "One welcomes the little surprises of the evening, if it offers a break from all that talk of tailors and hair." He shakes his head slightly, then cuts a quick, flat look at his cousin. "So I hear," he answers the latter claim blandly.
Issa laughs lightly, offering her free hand to the hunter. "I see," is all she says, shooting a subtle glance at Reyce filled with amusement. Though she seems not to pick up on his quiet seething, and continues. "Well, from what I hear, the Caucus is exploding with handsome young prospects. And our other men aren't so bad, either. I recommend that one," and here she points out E'sere, "if you don't mind riders. Good for a little flirting if nothing else."
"They probably just went down to start their own /fun/ gather," Aelan winks to Dara, holding out a hand to Rysia with an easy grin. "The side-gathers are the most fun, you know. Cards, and table-dancing, and good hard quickal. Nice to meet you, Rysia," she adds cheerfully.
Yevide, without a moment's hesitation, leans into the Weyrleader's open arms to plant a kiss on the man's cheek, lingering perhaps just a second too long to be proper. "Weyrleader," she greets him, drawing back just a step to make conversation. "Whatever do you have there? It looks divine. Your kitchens have outdone themselves." One finger goes out to test the consistency of the cake, prodding at it gently. "They make High Reaches a very tempting place to be. Small wonder the evening is so well-attended."
Rysia meets hands briefly, "And meetin' you as well. Well, I almost didn't be goin' to either, truth be told, but... well.." And here, she lightly flushes, "I heard Sar was looking for me." A pause, before she finally just gives in, and asks, "Have you seen him 'bout?"
Miniyal finishes off her wine and looks once more longingly at the food on the tables. People must be drinking heavily by now for she has to fend off a drunken, heavy-handed invitation to dance. But, she does so by glowering and accidentally kicking the man lightly in the shins. That done she returns to watching the room.
Amid all of the people leaving for the kitchen, a young man with a healer apprentice's knot and a somewhat older woman in an apron emerge from the infirmary passageway to help offset some of the crowd-shift. The pair have a harried exhaustion about them, as if they've just suffered some sort of uncommon abuse. "Whatever /he/ says, I swear you, she's fine," grouses the young man, rolling his shoulders in irritation, reaching for the wine as the pair approach the serving tables. "You should have heard him squawk when the journeyman said 'healthy baby girl.'" The woman, shaking her head, laughs a bit and goes for ale, herself, and the two converse a little longer about the work just done over their respective refreshments, watching the hoi polloi like some people might watch a sporting event. Babies and gathers, good entertainment.
Essdara's expression flickers a moment, and she glances around. "He asked me to dance earleir, then said he'd be back in a minute. Haven't seen him since. I figured he was just teasin' me again." She shrugs. "You see him, tell him he's missed that chance, ok?" She looks to Aelan, "Jensen wouldn't take them off without Kierom, and not with this many notables around. But I'm sure it's nothing. Though, Aelan, if you want to be avoiding more dancers, this would be a good time to slip out, while everyone's distracted by this. If it's important, I am sure we';ll hear the gossip about it."
S'lien stands then, flashing another of those bright grins towards his cousin before clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Speaking of which. I've a fall to lead on the morning, so I should gather up my Weyrwoman and get going. Been a pleasure talking to you, cousin," he says with easy warmth.
T'ral observed his friend's retreat for a moment, then turned back to Ginella with a shake of his head. "I spend all this time trying to haul him out of wanting to study everything to death, and I get this for a reward?" Concern wars with amusement, and a long swallow from his beer seems to serve to quell both. "Leave them, I'm sure they won't get through the guards to trouble. Should you be speaking to people?"
Rysia's own expression flickers, before she shakes her head, and lets out an almost sigh, "You'll be seein' him a'fore I do, I think. I'm.. goin' to wander, I think. Enjoy the party. Nice to be meetin' you, Aelen..." she then adds, turning to the Keroon-woman with a half-meant smile.
Carina follows the point, uttering a soft laugh. "Well, a little flirting's fun for everyone. I'm afraid I recognize his company, though, which makes his a conversation I probably shouldn't barge in on. Alas." She makes a playful moue as she eyes E'sere. Reyce watches her in wary silence.
"Just a little treat," replies G'thon, his asymmetrical smile turning a little self-conscious for being 'caught' laden with cake. "Have some," he adds, as excuse, offering the weyrwoman the plate in strange return for her sweet kiss. "Have you had time to get dinner yet and I've just not realized? Or would you like to start a plate? You missed the - ah, excitement," adds the Weyrleader, casting a quick glance out toward the bowl. "It seems a couple of our riders put on a little show."
"What, and miss all the possible excitement?" Aelan grins swiftly back at Dara. "I'm half tempted to go look down that tunnel myself. But I think I'll content myself with finishing my wine," she decides cheerfully, taking another drink. "The next one'll be easier to get away from than the last one. I think Samien's the only sitting lord who's likely to ask for a dance."
E'sere stands as well, nodding. "I understand. My regards to your Weyrwoman, of course. It's good to catch up with you, S'lien--it's been a long time. Good evening," he bids his cousin.
Ginella watches Br'ce go after Penny, and bites on her lip a moment more before turning to T'ral with a wry smile. "Guess you're rubbing off on him after all?" she jokes, before nodding. "I'm sure you're right. They'll be right back soon enough." The mention of talking to people causes a bit of a slump in the goldrider's shoulders, and she rubs absently at an arm. "I've spoken to several people," she says, "To be honest, I'd like to sit down for a few minutes, at least. My feet aren't used to these shoes."
"Tell you mother she's still the Weyrwoman in our hearts," S'lien murmurs to E'sere with a brief touch of genuine caring in his eyes before he turns and starts back towards his Weyrwoman to collect her from the babbling of women and slip back out to the bowl.
Essdara smiles to Rysia. "Have fun." She looks over at Aelan, and her flushed face, and a very slight frown comes out. "MIght be a good time to avoid any more of the wine, though." She comments. She glances around again, "Guess we wait, then. Hrmph, I hate waiting, just not very good at it. I prefer things to happen more quickly. Say, Aelan... Have you tried the mousse on the dessert tray? I did a lot of the work on that." She says, with no small amount of pride. "And the spicy meatrolls on the main table, though those are mostly for drunk men with too much to prove."
"Ah. Too bad," Issa repeats for the second time during the conversation. "I'm sure you'll find someone worthy of the, ah, hunt. Unfortunate that Reyce here is out of the question," she says, turning to him as she says it, a tease of a grin resurfacing. "I'm sure he'd make any young holder's daughter a fine match." Listen to Issa, spoken like a true matron, transformed without even the slightest bit of effort.
"I was deep in conversation," Yevide informs the weyrleader, an almost impish smile crinkling the corners of her eyes for a moment. "And I will settle for cake." Her fingers wrap around his plate, and she breaks off a piece of his dessert to nibble at. "I was near to the door, I saw the colours. I've never seen such a thing before. How did they do it?" The Igenite is chattering idly, but bright blue eyes are working over the crowd, lingering on each grouping. Who stands with who?
Rysia nods to Essdara and Aelan, before turning, and instead of heading back to the lower caverns, heads out the way of the bowl, tugging her shawl forward a bit before going out for a bit of wind.
"Of course," answers E'sere, his own expression mimicking S'lien's for a moment. "High Reaches will always be hers." Then, watching his cousin exit, the wingleader frowns a moment and turns, slipping away from present spot. He pauses to exchange Turn's End pleasantries with an older pair of riders in his wing then before moving on again, circulating idly. He's still not made his way back to his erstwhile 'date,' though even Sinopa seems to have given up on him by this point.
"Oh, don't be silly," Aelan waves one hand as she looks over to Dara, though her smile is sharper. "I can handle a little bit of wine. /Especially/," she adds, brows rising cheerfully at the talk of mousse, "With a little bit of desert on my stomach."
Miniyal slinks back against the wall to avoid a couple of the more drunken revelers. Can't they see she just wants to be left alone. Although it is odd she hasn't left yet.
Essdara grins, and offers a hand to Aelan. "We can debate the fine points of wine consumption another time, but you must try the sweets while there is some left. We spent ages making sure they were all perfect. To /my/ standards of perfect, no less." She moves towards teh dessert table. "The mousse is my favourite, though the iced cream is something not to be missed. Keeping it cold is a challenge, but it's one we do best here at High Reaches."
G'thon does not quite surrender the plate to Yevide; he shares the holding of it with her, so theoretically she could use both hands to break bits off to eat or whatever she might need her hands for. The plate serves as a link between them, obliging a certain distance while assuring a certain intimacy. "I have no idea how they did it, in all truth. - Deep in conversation near the entrance?" The weyrleader's eyes brighten with nowadays uncommon bemusement. "How could you hear yourself think, nevermind your companion speak?" One brow arches, sly.
Reyce meets Issa's glance for a second, his own expression unreadable, then looks away. He scratches absently at his cheek - Carina made him shave his stubble off, which makes the gesture somewhat empty for him, but he does it anyway. Girl talk, who cares? Carina's eyes crinkle up with mirth, meanwhile, at Issa's suggestion. "He is appreciably taller than me, but sadly," she lowers her voice, "not overfond. Still, they'll find someone willing to pick him up someday, and Benden will throw an enormous party just to show we can." She shoots a mischievous glance her brother's way, then adds, "We meet imitate your light show, if we can arrange it."
"Oh, shards, /iced cream/?" Aelan grins broadly, setting her wine aside for that. "I knew there had to be a benefit to the frigid cold here. If I can get iced cream with mousse, all four years here will be worthwhile. Dancing and curtseying included," she avows.
Essdara giggles softly. "It's not so bad. I like dancing, with the right girl. It's just over here, cause we keep it outside. Melts too fast, if we don't." She glances around at the somber room again, and opts for a more cheerful conversation. "Did I overhear someone earlier saying Lady Sian had delivered? 'Cause I think some pleasant news would go over /really/ well about now."
Eventually, E'sere's meanderings carry him toward the plate-sharing Weyrleader and his goldrider, the wingleader pauses nearby to greet them with a simple, "Sir. Weyrwoman." He pauses a moment to study the pair, their arrangement, before noting to the elder man, "I didn't intend, sir, to intrude earlier--I hope I didn't ruin your pleasant chat with my cousin?" His words are wry, more formality than anything; E'sere knows better than anyone about those 'pleasant chats' with S'lien.
However unreadable, Issa still attempts to read Reyce's reaction, but ends up simply tearing her eyes away to pay attention to the sister's chatter. "I think that's a wonderful idea. He confided in me that he did find it all very impressive." The greenrider lies, convincingly, but still lies. "
Issa adds, "I must make sure I'm invited. I'd love to see it."
Aelan nods to Dara, smile slipping crookedly wry. "And a girl," she adds, lowering her voice slightly. "/Really/ good news. Can you imagine if it'd been a boy, with her still being, you know, sort of Lady Holder? A dragonrider's son? It'd be like-" By chance, her gaze crosses E'sere, and Aelan suddenly shuts up. "Right, so where's that iced cream?" she asks lightly.
"Well, the conversation did rather come to a grinding halt at that point," Yevide concedes with a laugh, inspecting a morsel of cake from all sides before popping it into her mouth. Her enjoyment of it is not quite proper; lashes lowered, head tilted back, she murmurs a small sound of appreciation. And then, a return to the conversation. "Can you imagine such a thing over the desert, in Igen? It would be visible forever."
Essdara rolls her eyes a bit, leading Aelan back to the weyr enterance. "Definately no more wine. I think it's sweet that they found each other, to be honest. It's nice to know two people in such disparate social situations can still find some happiness. Yes, I definately approve of that." She obtains two bowls of the carob-mint dessert and offers one to Aelan. "Here. I'd've thought you would feel the same?"
"I can only imagine, my dear." G'thon is frankly entranced, enjoying Yevide's enjoyment with eyes quite fast upon her. So he can be, perhaps, excused a bit for being belated in realizing that E'sere has addressed him. He turns to the wingleader a bit suddenly but, after a beat, just lets him in on the little vignette that is he, the weyrwoman, and their cake. "No, no, of course not, E'sere. In fact, one might say you came by at the perfect moment. I hope I didn't abandon you too quickly and leave you with nothing as a topic of conversation?" The already-crooked brow slips higher up the old Weyrleader's long pate; his tone is as dry as E'sere's had been, but good-humored.
Reyce is evidently still paying /some/ attention, because he looks sharply at Issa when she lies. He starts to protest, but closes his mouth on the words. When Carina looks to him for confirmation, her smile bemused, he offers only a shrug - allowing confirmation, if she wants to take it that way. She does. "Aw, Reyce. You /do/ like a show." Something sparks in his eyes, and he mutters, "Whatever." His glance goes to Issa. "You'll be invited if you want to be. It's not like Benden's parties are exclusive."
Aelan takes the dessert from Dara with a quick smile and murmured thanks before taking a spoonful, thoughtful. "I dunno," she admits after a moment. "I mean, part of me thinks it's nice for them. But at the same time, once you let yourself get boxed into that Lady Holder path, you've sort of got a /responsibility/, y'know? Whatever you're doing, you oughta do it right. You have to cover things, or you get a mess like what happened when my father got confirmed instead of my uncle." Oblivious to any deeper substance in her words, she continues on the iced cream, looking up with a quick grin. "S'good."
E'sere seems ignorant of Aelan's glance; at the least, he's far enough away not to pick up her words or the insinuation behind them. Far more important to him is the conversation with the Weyrleader; his regard of Yevide and her cake-eating spectacle is brief, the man too polite to comment, though he's plainly less enthralled with her than G'thon. Instead, he focuses on the man. "I thought I might have, sir. He can be... a little much," is his rather bland consensus on his cousin. "Still," he adds after a moment, "it's always nice to catch up with a family member you've not spoken to, in some time."
As the music winds down the numbers of gather-goers begin to split evenly three ways: part hover around or in the kitchen, waiting to find out what happened with the guards. Part hover around the serving tables or the dining tables, enjoying a late repast to fortify them for a long night of celebration and debauchery. And part simply retreat into the shadows, either to attend Turn's End at other places around Pern or to retire to their beds so as to greet the new turn refreshed in the morning.
Mission accomplished. Having gotten a reaction out of Reyce, Issa smiles innocently at him and shrugs subtly as his sister turns to him, taking the chance of the lull in conversation to drink her wine. "I'd love to be invited, exclusive or not. Thank you." Mischief shines through her polite facade. But, as if to make up for it, Issa doesn't continue teasing, and instead asks, "How are classes going, Reyce? Anything new and controversial from Sefton lately?"
Essdara chuckles and takes a spoonful of her own to suck on; she's not rushing teh eating of the delicacy. "But she wasn't actually allowed to be, was she? She was just regent for her son. She's only got the title, the way I hear it, cause it was given to her. Seems they turned on her first, no?" A shrug. "But regardless, everyone deserves to be happy. Responsibility that consumes one's life, that's not something anyone should have to endure."
Yevide turns to E'sere, a piece of cake between two fingers, and she levels a smile at the younger man. Less enthralled? Unconcerned, it would seem. "Family are so valuable," she agrees, equally bland, lashes lowering as she goes for another bite of the cake. No display, this time, although a sidelong glance at G'thon. "So, too, are new ties. Don't you think it's fascinating, watching so many forged in one evening? The conversation positively thrums." E'sere is treated to a speculative glance, then, eyes running up and down him. "I imagine you would make new acquaintances easily, Wingleader."
"Someone has to do it," Aelan shrugs to Dara, continuing with the desert. "I mean, if no one acts responsibly and takes charge for the stability of things, then no one else has the freedom to do what they want and what makes them happy." She looks up, smile wry. "And seeing how I'm kind of attached to the freedom to do what I want, I'm very committed to other people being responsible," she winks.
"It is indeed," replies G'thon with an inclination of his head to E'sere. Then Yevide says what she does and does what she does so well, and the Weyrleader laughs a little - but he lets go the plate, allowing the weyrwoman to be responsible in full for the dessert. His hands find a place to rest against the small of his back, shoulders straightened by this posture. "No one makes acquaintances as easily as you do, Yevide. Your charisma is enviable." Strangely enough, it's the younger man G'thon's gaze gravitates to as he says this, as pleasant as he seems.
Reyce has some trouble reading that abrupt shift from her, as evidenced by the fact that he scans Issa's face again. Not finding any answers there, he shrugs and directs a glance at his sister, instead. "I guess. He had some class about what it means to be Blooded, but I missed it." Carina raises an eyebrow, which is the response he was waiting for. Reyce shoots Issa a dark smile. "He wants his students to go around High Reaches asking people what their opinions are on Blood and privilege. Whether we deserve to exist, something like that." He shrugs.
From outside in the bowl, the throaty bellow of an unhappy dragon can be heard.
"I never said people shouldn't have to be responsible." Essdara points out. "Just that there is such a thing as being /too/ responsible. But, I think this is a topic for another day. This is starting to feel like one of the conversations Sefton inspires, and I am doing my best to avoid him and his thoughts, if only for a night." She grins a bit, "Besides, if /you/ plan to avoid that responsibility, then I will just chalk it up as a good thing and get on with things." She looks at the bowl at the dragon, and frowns slightly. "That's never a good sign..." She comments.
Miniyal looks towards the exit to the bowl, but there's an unhappy dragon she doesn't want to be out there with it. Much safer in here with the drunks. Or, she could flee. Why doesn't she flee? No one knows. Possibly not even her. Still, there she lurks in the corner.
"I do try, ma'am," E'sere answers Yevide, his smile self-deprecating. He glances briefly around the party, nodding once before noting, by way of agreement with G'thon, "For some, it is a skill; for others, natural talent. Wingleader E'sere, ma'am--it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last, for I've heard quite a lot of you." He tips his head toward the goldrider, nothing if not polite.
Issa chuckles, joining her gaze with Reyce's though it divulges nothing but sheer interest. "Is that so? And have you? Oh, you should talk with some of the laundresses, if you can. They can be very opinionated. And loud." Speaking of loud, there's that bugling coming from the bowl, and through the entrance, glimpses of an uneasy bronze can be seen. Issa pauses to peer, muttering a slightly worried, "What is going on?"
"I intend to avoid as much responsibility and consume as much iced cream as poss-" Aelan trails off at the sound from the bowl, brows furrowing slightly as she looks to Dara. "Never a good sign," she echoes. "So I'm guessing that means it's not normal?"
Essdara shakes her head, looking worried. "No, it's not. I mean, could just be some drunk rider stubbed his toe, but..." She glances around, and at the group near the kitchens Kierom dissapeared into. "I do wish we knew what was going on." She sighs. "It's impossible to stay in a good mood with this tension!"
"Such easy flattery," Yevide scolds G'thon with a laugh, pulling the plate in against her. "The pleasure is entirely mine, Wingleader. Your 'leader speaks so highly of you, you know. I've heard him say more than once that you'd be an asset to any weyr. Is that not so, G'thon?"
Carina, meanwhile, is giving Reyce a weird look, her eyes narrowed slightly. The bellowing of the dragon distracts her a little, but either she doesn't recognize the unhappiness or there've been too many strange events tonight for her to get concerned about this one; she doesn't seem all that concerned. She merely takes advantage of the noise to lean over and murmur something inaudible to Reyce, who smirks but doesn't look at her. His attention is fixed on Issa. "Your dragon doesn't know?" Whether he does his classwork will have to remain a mystery for the time being.
"You know, if it's really bugging you," Aelan muses around a spoonful of iced cream, "You could always go and check it out. I would, but I think it'd be the end of me if I tried to do anything useful in this dress." She looks around then, slowly starting to walk nonchalantly around the edge of the cavern, casting a mischievous waggle of her brows over her shoulder towards Dara.
Tension? What tension? G'thon is unaware, it seems, of any tension. Except, perhaps, that which zings about between himself, Yevide, and E'sere. "Flattery is easiest when it's honest," muses the Weyrleader, nodding already his equally easy assent to what Yevide has said he says of his wingleader. "High Reaches has been most fortunate to have E'sere's service. He has - pardon me, Wingleader." G'thon inclines his head and overturns one long hand in a solicitous gesture toward E'sere. "You have been a pleasure to work with." It might almost sound like the old man is accepting his future fate.
"The Weyrleader flatters indeed," E'sere replies to Yevide, though his glance strays to meet G'thon's. "I simply do my best, as any other bronzerider would." For the man, he has a small smile, another gentle inclination of his head to the Weyrleader. "The honor, sir, has always been mine. You have ever been too kind to me," he replies easily. "And for that, I thank you."
You'd think watching the party go by would be boring. It probably is, but there Miniyal stays. She does move enough to find a place to sit, carefully gathering up her dress so she doesn't wind up putting a foot on it. That'd be all she'd need.
Issa quickly gives a shake of her head, her eyebrows lowering into a frown. The tension in the caverns seems to seep into her all at once, and she slowly lets her wineglass down onto a bench near the wall. "No, just confusion, agitation. A queen's upset. Blood? Where's blood?" Issa turns to the two unaware of the dragons' building anxiety. "There's definitely something wrong somewhere," she explains, voice serious and calm, but strained. She scans the living cavern, but comes up with nothing.
Essdara makes a face at Aelan. "It's not that." She shrugs. "Anyway, it's probably nothing." She forces on a bright smile. "Still and all, it's been a good evening, so far, even if I only got to dance once. Can I get you anything else, Aelan?" She takes another bite of her minty dessert. "And you need to tell me how you are finding classes and such. You seem a lot less uncertain than when you arrived. Any rumors about you circulating yet?"
"Is it flattery at all, if it's sincere? The Weyrleader once suggested to me that it was simply a statement of fact." Yevide's still at work on her cake, breaking off small pieces with her fingers, turning them over, popping them into her mouth with small noises of relish. In between them, the conversation is continued. "So much that is praiseworthy thus far," she observes to E'sere. "Who knows what might come next?"
"Ah, E'sere, I would I could have been kinder. But if I've ever been harsh surely it served you well." As well as G'thon may have accepted his fate, he's got every excuse for a little reminiscing; fine lines crinkle in the corners of his eyes as he apparently recollects incidents in which he might have been less than forgiving with the younger bronzerider. Then he startles, as if from reverie. He glances at Yevide as though belatedly making note of what she's just said; then he himself says, "Ah." Then, a breath and again, "Ah. - E'sere! This reminds me. I have a service to request of you."
Groups continue to slip away one by one, and between two others, T'ral and Ginella go as well, the brownrider with one arm curled around the shoulders of the weyrwoman. To another party? To Benden? To bed? No sign is given. Instead, with a minimum of fuss, the pair make their exit.
T'ral and Ginella depart.
Click here to go on to Part 5.
Time: Turnover between Turn 1 and 2
Players: Everyone!
Scene: Strange becomes mysterious.
Yevide enters from the bowl outside.
"Well," T'ral begins to reason thoughtfully. "Guards went thataway, and something else is happening thataway." A nod of his head indicates the bowl, the bangs, and the bright colours. "Can we get in too much trouble if we head in the other direction?" One arm is absently around Ginella, too familiar a posture to be proper.
Lifting her glass, Aida drinks what little is left in it, then eyes it once it's empty. Oh look, empty glass. How convenient. The young woman abandons her quest for the table she'd been aiming at, instead circling back away to head for the table with the wine. On her way, she stops some passing woman, apparently asking a curious question and initiating a bit of light chatter. Such a sunny smile.
Miniyal heads from one corner to another, not bothering to come to a full stop even. She just grabs a glass of whatever is closest and gulps down half of it before she's safely in her new corner. Lingering there she watches everyone, considers the dancers with a shake of her head, and leans against the wall there being no chair to steal here.
"Well, I could try to get some drunken dragonrider to drop me back home," Aelan chuckles wryly at Dara's question. "But you know, Father did always say that drinking and riding almost always ended in a crash. Besides, he'd probably just ship me off again anyhow. No hiding during a Pass." She drains the last of her wine then, considering the empty glass. "So I suspect I'll probably be here," she concludes with a sardonic grin.
"Nabol," notes E'sere to S'lien, "has been entertaining Fort's offers of coverage. I'm sure the first Weyr will do its part in ensuring the continued prosperity of its new Holding. You needn't worry that the Reaches will neglect its own borders." Like his cousin, he settles briefly into a chair, sipping his drink as he glances sideways at his companion. "Oh, I don't know. I do what I can, of course. You should worry about Telgar more, cousin--we seem to get all your troublemakers these days," he jibes, with a grin to match S'lien's. "As for our queens? Mm. My marks are on Nenuith, though... It has been some time since Citalth rose as well." A shrug. "I sincerely doubt that. The Reaches has more than enough capable bronzeriders without importing another, one who's unfamiliar with, and to, our Weyr."
"Well then, we're between a rock and a hard place. Whatever disturbance inside--" Br'ce gestures with his glass towards the lower caverns, "--and the explosions outside. Neatly trapped, if I do say so myself." he observes with somewhat morbid humor. "Perhaps it's some sort of planned surprise. Did your captain look particularly worried when he left?" he asks curiously. The 'your' captain being somewhat of a slip of the tongue--he's still not used to thinking of himself as from High Reaches. "Ah, Aida." Br'ce waves his glass towards a nearby woman, trying to attract her attention. "I saw you earlier, but I was distracted by the hubbub outside."
*CrrrrrrACK!* Louder, still, than the one proceeding. Bright red and rich, rosy pink spiral outward from their place of fiery birth, sprouting spiky, temporary petals into the sky. A full circle of the light blazes brilliantly for a few seconds, hanging expectant before drifting down to the awaiting earth. A shrill, exuberant dragon-roar follows it, trilling at the end in high amusement. It's followed by a quick bang with more blue sparks that chase the snowflakes.
Penny nods at T'ral, as he works his way through it. Then she glances toward the kitchen. "I assume, since there's no sounds coming from the kitchen, that they went on down into the store rooms. And you know what a maze it is down there." All sorts of bad guys could be lurking there! Penny jumps again, another faint gasp escaping at the even louder bangs. "Sweet -Faranth-!" She bursts, and then looks back at the others, first at B'rce, then Ginella -- and then T'ral again. "I want to go," she says finally. "I don't like not knowing what's going on down there. She sets her wine glass aside on a nearby table, preparation to go toward the kitchens.
Issa recognizes the relief and furnishes a small nod in response, sparing another glance for Carina as she does so. "So we do," she retorts with a grin, lifting her wineglass, "And... properly attired, even." The greenrider tilts her head, grin widening before she decides to take a sip. She lets her gaze drift to the bursts of colored sparks, casually cradling her glass in both hands, which rest at the level of her waist. "I just thought I'd come and make all of the proper greetings expected of us at one of these things. Enjoying the... spectacle?"
Ginella eyes T'ral. "Which other direction?" she asks carefully. If the posture is improper, she doesn't notice or doesn't care, leaning very subtly into the brownrider's arm. Her empty wine glass is twirled absently before she starts at this loudest-yet explosion. "I certainly /hope/ that's just some entertainment, or we are all in quite serious trouble. Could we-- what?" Penny's announcement/request draws a gape from the goldrider. "We've all decided something strange is going on, and you want to go wander into it? In the windy dark maze of stores where they recently found a body? Are you mad?"
S'lien laughs at E'sere's response about troublemakes, winking over smugly. "With you getting all my troublemakers, I've little to worry about at Telgar anymore," he points out bemusedly. "And you forget, cousin," he adds with that wolfish smile, "High Reaches is my home Weyr. Casterlanth hatched on these sands. Took my training here, studied the Caucus here..." He trails off, smile hardening for a moment. "Ah, but it is a pit of politics, isn't it? Nothing ever quite goes as expected at High Reaches." A cold emerald gaze flicks to the bowl at the continued noise and light, smile retreating to one corner of his lips.
Essdara grins a bit. "Just so, though I admit I've seen many a rider mount up in the most appalling of conditions. I guess it helps that the dragons do the work." She shakes her head, looking around at the tense people and light chatter. "Is it me, Aelan, or did something get misplaced? Seems like the life has been taken out of this gather, doesn't it? Ah, well. I expect I should leave you in peace now, there will be others like him who want their fair chance at the lovely lady from Keroon, and I fear not all will be as... Pleasant... Towards someone in their way as he was."
Rysia arrives through the long tunnel that comes from the lower caverns.
"Oh, don't be silly," Aelan flashes a swift grin towards Dara. "No one's thinking about dancing now, anyhow. They're all distracted by the show out there." She considers a moment, placing her empty glass on a passing tray and exchanging it for a full before grinning back. "Hey, let's go get a closer look," she suggests, tipping her head towards the door and starting to work her way awkwardly through the crowd.
Stilling briefly when Br'ce waves his glass, Aida pauses in her conversation, then gives a dip of her head to the woman and murmurs something quietly. With that, she's turning and finding somewhere to set her empty glass, lifting her chin and putting on a polite smile as she approaches Br'ce and the others around him. The whole group of them get a very polite nod as she slips up to the one who called to her's side. "Sir," she greets him. Quietly. "Hello. I thought I heard my name -- apparently I wasn't imagining things?"
Essdara chuckles and shrugs, following after Aelan. "If you say so, Aelan." Towards the bowl, and the antics of her other friends, goes the cook.
"Ah," notes E'sere, raising a cautionary finger, "but High Reaches is my /home/." The difference between 'home' and 'home Weyr' is stressed, the wingleader leaning back in his chair more comfortably as he studies the man next to him. "Ah, well," he decides after a moment, lifting his shoulders again. "At least the Reaches can handle all of them, hmm? I don't believe any have dared start a fight with /our/ Weyrleader, at least." Pause. To S'lien's latter words, E'sere has a quick inclination of his head, acknowledging the truth of them with a simple, "Indeed."
Reyce's amused snort is interrupted by the loud crack of noise, as his free hand - the other one is carrying a wine glass - goes up to cover his ear. His grimace remains even after the hand moves away. "No," he says. "Not even remotely." His eyes flick across Issa's face, trying to get some kind of read on her. "I'd rather have skipped it, but my sister -" as he's careful to identify Carina - "is hunting." She's also listening, it happens, having turned to look back at Reyce a few moments ago, but is perfectly content to let him stick his foot in his mouth a bit longer.
In what appears to be the final hurrah, the explosions double - nay, triple! - in number and in fast succession. One - two - three - four - five - six! All in order, several colors and sizes flashing and dying in the air, now clouded with a sweet-smelling smoke, gleaming and glittering in the haze. Two dragon forms have suddenly disappeared, leaving the shimmering display untouched as it makes its lofty descent to the earth, gleaming and swirling. The first 'Reachian air show has officially concluded, it seems.
Miniyal takes another drink of her wine and eyes the cakes back halfway across the room. Cakes. But, no. She's had enough and surely her mother lectured her some about not eating too much. Or maybe she just doesn't want to brave the tables again.
Penny returns Ginella's stare calmly. "Mad? No. Annoyed, yes. Everyone's just enjoying the party, while something's obviously going on. I just want to find out what." She lifts her arms, pulling the tumble of curls off her neck and twisting into a knot at its nape, and smooths down her dress. Then she directs an amused glance at her friend. "We won't get that far," she says confidently. "The captain will have blocked off the entrance." She pauses, thoughtfully, and then turns to her wine glass. Picking it back up, she drains it in a few swallows and replaces it on the table. "The worst that will happen is a couple of the youngest guards stop us and hopefully share something of what's going on."
"No point in fighting with half of an old man, is there?" S'lien lowers his voice, at least, for that question to E'sere, smile wry. "No need. Everyone knows the competition lies with the dragons now." That quickly, the easy charm returns, the Telgari Weyrleader twisting around in his seat to look around. "Speaking of my dear transplants, though...They seem to have fled," he observes with some amusement.
"If you're headed down there, we should probably accompany you." Br'ce adds gravely on top of Ginella's concerns, glancing at T'ral with an uplifted brow. "I will confess to being intensely curious myself as to what's going on. Though much more inclined to wait until the dust settles and ask about the resolution afterwards." he grins. "No, you weren't imagining things. Though with the fireworks outside, I'm not surprised you didn't hear. Enjoying the party?" he engages in polite small talk with Aida. "We've been speculating about what the disappearance of the guards signifies."
"What? No, Sunshine, the /other/ distraction," T'ral hastens to assure Ginella. As Penny sets down her glass to make ready for the exploration, the brownrider does the opposite, and claims a large glass of beer. "I don't hear sounds any more, though." A glance goes sideways as Br'ce wades into his own version of small talk, but T'ral leaves him to it. That's what friends are for. "We'll leave the guards to it, though. They won't welcome us poking our noses in."
Aelan slips through the worst of the crowd just in time to catch the finally, a swift grin spreading across her features as she promptly begins to applaud. Somewhere, strictly speaking, that can probably be construed as polite.
"No point indeed," E'sere murmurs in reply to S'lien, his own voice lowered. "It'd just be cruel to ruin his last days so." It's perhaps an odd choice of words; surely he means his last days as Weyrleader. In any case, E'sere continues in a more normal volume, "So they do. How odd. And here I wold have expected them to be clamoring to speak to you. Were you in a mind to seek them out? I believe I saw one disappear that way." He gestures across the rooms, vaguely toward the kitchens.
Ginella looks somewhat mollified by Penny's excuse that they won't get anywhere, anyways, lips pressing together, "I suppose that's likely true." Br'ce and T'ral are both listened to, and by the end she's frowning, unsure what if anything has been decided. "It does sound as though they're finished outside," she agrees, "But I don't know if we ought to bother the guards at the door or not. You'd think if there were things we were supposed to know they would have told us."
Essdara grins up at the sky as the last of the pyrotechnics is extinguished, and gives Aelan an amused grin at her clapping. "I will say, weyrling or not, Tavaly is every bit the flier T'zen is. They are going to make an interesting pair, those two." She looks back up, squinting to watch them fly off into the dark. "Have you gotten to meet them? They are both good friends. I'd not have a dress at all tonight, Ifear, if not for Tavaly."
Rysia slips in from the lower caverns, and glances about, catching the bit of pyrotechnics, before searching for familiar faces. Catching sight of the cook, at least, the weaver-girl heads over towards Essdara, for the moment, not running into anyone too forcefully.
The grin from Br'ce seems to put Aida at ease, and her own grin briefly appears. Her hands end up clasped lightly behind her back, and she nods agreeably to his question. "I am," she tells him. "It's been very interesting, so far -- all sorts of people to watch. I hope you are, as well?" Beat. "And I'm not going to hazard a guess as to what the guards disappearing means; it could be any number of things, but if you all are going to go see, I will admit to my own concern."
"Too bad," Issa says, with a slight 'tsk' and an exaggerated tone of disappointment in her voice. She watches the last throes of the light show with nothing but a composed grin on her face. When it's finished, she continues, "All that planning, too. I'll have to tell the older students that they've failed to impress." The introduction of the sister is met with a polite smile and a nod, "Issa, rider of green Oshisyth." The necessary introduction is made hastily, but in a manner fitting of the formality of their surroundings. "Hunting?" she inquires then, a curious frown falling on her face as her gaze flickers between Reyce and Carina.
"Because when a patient is badly wounded," Penny says drily to Ginella, brow raised, "the first thing the healers tell them is 'Oh, you're probably going to die.'" She turns her eyes back to the kitchen. "No, they're not going to tell anybody anything until it's all over. If it's nothing, they'll tell us. If they tell us nothing..." She lifts a shoulder. "You don't know Jensen. He wouldn't interrupt the party with something unless he knew for fact that it would endager everyone, and even then I'm not sure creating a panic would be worth it." She smiles. "I doubt it's anything too serious," she dismisses, no doubt in an attempt to allay Ginella's concerns. "I'm just curious, is all. Is that so wrong?" She nods at B'rce. "So. Shall we?"
"I think I met Tavaly," Aelan answers Dara, taking a sip from her third glass of the evening. She's starting to look a little flushed now, though her smiles are certainly coming easier, as are the words. "She seemed friendly enough. I'll have to try to meet her again after this, let her know what I thought about it."
Kierom slowly comes back in from the Lower Caverns, smiling a little and spotting Essdara, heads to her as he glances around the room, and frowns.
S'lien chuckles, shaking his head to E'sere. "No, I think I'll be all right without chasing them down. Either they'll come back before I need to head back home, or they won't. High Reaches is never all that far away, you know," he observes with an easy smile.
Kierom whispers "where'd Jensen and the other guards go?"
"You two stay and enjoy the party." Br'ce nods at Ginella and T'ral, with the overly bland tone of someone attempting to conceal his own amusement. "Maybe catch a breath of fresh air. We'll go and see if we can't pull some information from the guards. Aida, would you like to join us as well? Who needs to speculate if we can find out from the horse's mouth, so to speak." The idea of getting involved seems to have put a bit of a excited flush on the bookish man's cheeks.
Essdara nods. "Well, she should be back eventually. She's promised me a dance tonight, and as you know, I don't let them go easily." She smiles to Rysia and Kierom as they approach. "Kierom, there you are. I lost you when you went off to dance with Tava..." She blinks as Kierom whispers a question to her, and looks around; a lack she hadn't noticed is suddently brought to light. "That's a very good question. I've not the slightest clue."
A small group of Igenite dignitaries part, and Yevide emerges. Sea-dark blue whirls around her, cut in traditional Igenite patterns, and one hand lingers at the beaten-gold torq that encircles her throat. A certain swing of her hips suffices to set skirts swishing. Guards mobilising? What of it? Colored explosions in the sky? Fascinating. The Igenite weyrwoman passes S'lien and E'sere with a quiet nod of greeting, but G'thon is her target; to the dessert table, and the Weyrleader's side.
Kierom frowns a little more ad he moves towards the kitchens. "I better go check and see....."
Kierom departs for the kitchens
E'sere nods once, glancing away from the party to his cousin again. "No, it's not," he agrees. "You never did say--how is Telgar? And the Weyrwoman Tallara? I thought--" his words pause briefly to track Yevide's passing with a nod to match hers before he continues "--I saw her enter with you, but if that were the case, you seem to have slipped your date as early in the evening as I did," the man notes, a brow arching in curious bemusement.
Reyce glances over his shoulder, his shoulders suddenly tightening when he realizes Carina's been listening. Not particularly ashamed of himself, instead he aims a glare her direction, which Carina receives with most pleasant of smiles. "Or fishing, or trolling, or any of Reyce's clever ways of alluding to my lack of husband." She steps forward, extending her hand to the greenrider. "Carina of Benden - rather obviously. A pleasure to meet you, Issa." That seems to be the stock phrase for introduction among Bendenites. Reyce lets her make her make her own introduction, taking the moment to gather his own composure and let his anger cool.
G'thon labors for some time over selecting just the perfect cake to form the second part of his supper. Marble it is. And a glass of wine. With both hands thus encumbered the Weyrleader turns from the serving tables, readied at last to tread back to his Wingleader and S'lien, perhaps to rescue one from the other. But the old man's ears must be keen to the sound of skirts swishing, for he stops halt at just the right moment to face Yevide's approach. Though his hands are full he welcomes her with them wide-spread - and the right-side smile with which he greets the Igenite weyrwoman is as bright in its honesty as the one he had for S'lien glowed with affectation. "Yevide," rolls out the Weyrleader, nothing more, droll and delighted.
"Br'ce, don't..." T'ral hauls himself up short rather than scolding, instead trying out a scowl on his friend. "If it's nothing, they won't thank you for interfering. If it's something, they /really/ won't thank you for interfering. Have a drink, ask later."
"Hello, Dara. Enjoyin' the gatherin'?" Rysia asks the younger woman, before looking after Kierom, a bit puzzled.
"I would," Aida agrees promptly, dipping her head. She straightens back up and sends her best smile in the direction of Ginella and T'ral, and then she's glancing between Penny and Br'ce. "Thank you." Further words are almost spoken, but with another look sent to dance between Ginella and T'ral, she falls back to silence again. The toe of one slippered foot taps on the stone behind her, lightly. Tap.
Penny turns her attention on T'ral, flashing him one of her so-charming smiles. "You're right, of course-- the fewer of us that go down there, the better. I'll let you all know what I find out." And with that, she slips away from the group, leaving behind both wine glass and company, heading for the kitchens.
"Aye, and they seem to be enjoying a charming conversation, don't they?" S'lien chuckles as he tilts in his chair to look over towards Tallara. "I've a limit for women's conversation about who's here with whom and what /are/ they wearing. Besides, once simply must stop and chat with family about how things are on the home front. Telgar's well, cousin. Lacks the air of home like this place, but there's something to be said for being Weyrleader."
Ginella bites on her lip, looking between Br'ce and Penny. "I don't..." she begins, shaking her head a little, "I don't know. I'd rather not go, I think," she admits. A hand comes up to touch T'ral's forearm to calm him, opening her mouth only to blink when Penny suddenly leaves. "Oh. Br'ce, go with her?" she asks the rider, "Please?" She'll stay here with T'ral.
"Not the slightest clue about what?" Aelan asks curiously as she hears Dara's answer to Kierom, looking around and rising on her toes to get a better look at anything strange.
Br'ce grins at his friend, looking boyishly excited. "Don't worry about it, Tiv, we're just going to ask around a little. No harm done. I'll tell you all about it when we get back. And I'll make sure she doesn't get into any trouble." he promises, as he extends an arm to Aida and follows in Penny's footsteps.
Aida promptly takes the offered arm, sending another smile to the pair being left in the cavern as she follows with him.
Br'ce, Penny and Aida depart for the kitchens. (Click here to follow them.)
Essdara shakes her head. "Guards are gone." She says, to both Rysia and Aelan. "Think he went to find out why." A conversation echoed around as more people notice their sudden absence. Essdara, though, shrugs a little. "Whatever it is, best if we stay well out of it." She looks to Rysia with a smile. "Oh, definately. It's been interesting. Have you met Aelan, of Keroon? Aelan, Rysia, one of the weyr's weavers and a good friend."
E'sere follows S'lien's glance to Tallara, finding his own Sinopa in the process. "Certainly," he agrees dryly. "One welcomes the little surprises of the evening, if it offers a break from all that talk of tailors and hair." He shakes his head slightly, then cuts a quick, flat look at his cousin. "So I hear," he answers the latter claim blandly.
Issa laughs lightly, offering her free hand to the hunter. "I see," is all she says, shooting a subtle glance at Reyce filled with amusement. Though she seems not to pick up on his quiet seething, and continues. "Well, from what I hear, the Caucus is exploding with handsome young prospects. And our other men aren't so bad, either. I recommend that one," and here she points out E'sere, "if you don't mind riders. Good for a little flirting if nothing else."
"They probably just went down to start their own /fun/ gather," Aelan winks to Dara, holding out a hand to Rysia with an easy grin. "The side-gathers are the most fun, you know. Cards, and table-dancing, and good hard quickal. Nice to meet you, Rysia," she adds cheerfully.
Yevide, without a moment's hesitation, leans into the Weyrleader's open arms to plant a kiss on the man's cheek, lingering perhaps just a second too long to be proper. "Weyrleader," she greets him, drawing back just a step to make conversation. "Whatever do you have there? It looks divine. Your kitchens have outdone themselves." One finger goes out to test the consistency of the cake, prodding at it gently. "They make High Reaches a very tempting place to be. Small wonder the evening is so well-attended."
Rysia meets hands briefly, "And meetin' you as well. Well, I almost didn't be goin' to either, truth be told, but... well.." And here, she lightly flushes, "I heard Sar was looking for me." A pause, before she finally just gives in, and asks, "Have you seen him 'bout?"
Miniyal finishes off her wine and looks once more longingly at the food on the tables. People must be drinking heavily by now for she has to fend off a drunken, heavy-handed invitation to dance. But, she does so by glowering and accidentally kicking the man lightly in the shins. That done she returns to watching the room.
Amid all of the people leaving for the kitchen, a young man with a healer apprentice's knot and a somewhat older woman in an apron emerge from the infirmary passageway to help offset some of the crowd-shift. The pair have a harried exhaustion about them, as if they've just suffered some sort of uncommon abuse. "Whatever /he/ says, I swear you, she's fine," grouses the young man, rolling his shoulders in irritation, reaching for the wine as the pair approach the serving tables. "You should have heard him squawk when the journeyman said 'healthy baby girl.'" The woman, shaking her head, laughs a bit and goes for ale, herself, and the two converse a little longer about the work just done over their respective refreshments, watching the hoi polloi like some people might watch a sporting event. Babies and gathers, good entertainment.
Essdara's expression flickers a moment, and she glances around. "He asked me to dance earleir, then said he'd be back in a minute. Haven't seen him since. I figured he was just teasin' me again." She shrugs. "You see him, tell him he's missed that chance, ok?" She looks to Aelan, "Jensen wouldn't take them off without Kierom, and not with this many notables around. But I'm sure it's nothing. Though, Aelan, if you want to be avoiding more dancers, this would be a good time to slip out, while everyone's distracted by this. If it's important, I am sure we';ll hear the gossip about it."
S'lien stands then, flashing another of those bright grins towards his cousin before clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Speaking of which. I've a fall to lead on the morning, so I should gather up my Weyrwoman and get going. Been a pleasure talking to you, cousin," he says with easy warmth.
T'ral observed his friend's retreat for a moment, then turned back to Ginella with a shake of his head. "I spend all this time trying to haul him out of wanting to study everything to death, and I get this for a reward?" Concern wars with amusement, and a long swallow from his beer seems to serve to quell both. "Leave them, I'm sure they won't get through the guards to trouble. Should you be speaking to people?"
Rysia's own expression flickers, before she shakes her head, and lets out an almost sigh, "You'll be seein' him a'fore I do, I think. I'm.. goin' to wander, I think. Enjoy the party. Nice to be meetin' you, Aelen..." she then adds, turning to the Keroon-woman with a half-meant smile.
Carina follows the point, uttering a soft laugh. "Well, a little flirting's fun for everyone. I'm afraid I recognize his company, though, which makes his a conversation I probably shouldn't barge in on. Alas." She makes a playful moue as she eyes E'sere. Reyce watches her in wary silence.
"Just a little treat," replies G'thon, his asymmetrical smile turning a little self-conscious for being 'caught' laden with cake. "Have some," he adds, as excuse, offering the weyrwoman the plate in strange return for her sweet kiss. "Have you had time to get dinner yet and I've just not realized? Or would you like to start a plate? You missed the - ah, excitement," adds the Weyrleader, casting a quick glance out toward the bowl. "It seems a couple of our riders put on a little show."
"What, and miss all the possible excitement?" Aelan grins swiftly back at Dara. "I'm half tempted to go look down that tunnel myself. But I think I'll content myself with finishing my wine," she decides cheerfully, taking another drink. "The next one'll be easier to get away from than the last one. I think Samien's the only sitting lord who's likely to ask for a dance."
E'sere stands as well, nodding. "I understand. My regards to your Weyrwoman, of course. It's good to catch up with you, S'lien--it's been a long time. Good evening," he bids his cousin.
Ginella watches Br'ce go after Penny, and bites on her lip a moment more before turning to T'ral with a wry smile. "Guess you're rubbing off on him after all?" she jokes, before nodding. "I'm sure you're right. They'll be right back soon enough." The mention of talking to people causes a bit of a slump in the goldrider's shoulders, and she rubs absently at an arm. "I've spoken to several people," she says, "To be honest, I'd like to sit down for a few minutes, at least. My feet aren't used to these shoes."
"Tell you mother she's still the Weyrwoman in our hearts," S'lien murmurs to E'sere with a brief touch of genuine caring in his eyes before he turns and starts back towards his Weyrwoman to collect her from the babbling of women and slip back out to the bowl.
Essdara smiles to Rysia. "Have fun." She looks over at Aelan, and her flushed face, and a very slight frown comes out. "MIght be a good time to avoid any more of the wine, though." She comments. She glances around again, "Guess we wait, then. Hrmph, I hate waiting, just not very good at it. I prefer things to happen more quickly. Say, Aelan... Have you tried the mousse on the dessert tray? I did a lot of the work on that." She says, with no small amount of pride. "And the spicy meatrolls on the main table, though those are mostly for drunk men with too much to prove."
"Ah. Too bad," Issa repeats for the second time during the conversation. "I'm sure you'll find someone worthy of the, ah, hunt. Unfortunate that Reyce here is out of the question," she says, turning to him as she says it, a tease of a grin resurfacing. "I'm sure he'd make any young holder's daughter a fine match." Listen to Issa, spoken like a true matron, transformed without even the slightest bit of effort.
"I was deep in conversation," Yevide informs the weyrleader, an almost impish smile crinkling the corners of her eyes for a moment. "And I will settle for cake." Her fingers wrap around his plate, and she breaks off a piece of his dessert to nibble at. "I was near to the door, I saw the colours. I've never seen such a thing before. How did they do it?" The Igenite is chattering idly, but bright blue eyes are working over the crowd, lingering on each grouping. Who stands with who?
Rysia nods to Essdara and Aelan, before turning, and instead of heading back to the lower caverns, heads out the way of the bowl, tugging her shawl forward a bit before going out for a bit of wind.
"Of course," answers E'sere, his own expression mimicking S'lien's for a moment. "High Reaches will always be hers." Then, watching his cousin exit, the wingleader frowns a moment and turns, slipping away from present spot. He pauses to exchange Turn's End pleasantries with an older pair of riders in his wing then before moving on again, circulating idly. He's still not made his way back to his erstwhile 'date,' though even Sinopa seems to have given up on him by this point.
"Oh, don't be silly," Aelan waves one hand as she looks over to Dara, though her smile is sharper. "I can handle a little bit of wine. /Especially/," she adds, brows rising cheerfully at the talk of mousse, "With a little bit of desert on my stomach."
Miniyal slinks back against the wall to avoid a couple of the more drunken revelers. Can't they see she just wants to be left alone. Although it is odd she hasn't left yet.
Essdara grins, and offers a hand to Aelan. "We can debate the fine points of wine consumption another time, but you must try the sweets while there is some left. We spent ages making sure they were all perfect. To /my/ standards of perfect, no less." She moves towards teh dessert table. "The mousse is my favourite, though the iced cream is something not to be missed. Keeping it cold is a challenge, but it's one we do best here at High Reaches."
G'thon does not quite surrender the plate to Yevide; he shares the holding of it with her, so theoretically she could use both hands to break bits off to eat or whatever she might need her hands for. The plate serves as a link between them, obliging a certain distance while assuring a certain intimacy. "I have no idea how they did it, in all truth. - Deep in conversation near the entrance?" The weyrleader's eyes brighten with nowadays uncommon bemusement. "How could you hear yourself think, nevermind your companion speak?" One brow arches, sly.
Reyce meets Issa's glance for a second, his own expression unreadable, then looks away. He scratches absently at his cheek - Carina made him shave his stubble off, which makes the gesture somewhat empty for him, but he does it anyway. Girl talk, who cares? Carina's eyes crinkle up with mirth, meanwhile, at Issa's suggestion. "He is appreciably taller than me, but sadly," she lowers her voice, "not overfond. Still, they'll find someone willing to pick him up someday, and Benden will throw an enormous party just to show we can." She shoots a mischievous glance her brother's way, then adds, "We meet imitate your light show, if we can arrange it."
"Oh, shards, /iced cream/?" Aelan grins broadly, setting her wine aside for that. "I knew there had to be a benefit to the frigid cold here. If I can get iced cream with mousse, all four years here will be worthwhile. Dancing and curtseying included," she avows.
Essdara giggles softly. "It's not so bad. I like dancing, with the right girl. It's just over here, cause we keep it outside. Melts too fast, if we don't." She glances around at the somber room again, and opts for a more cheerful conversation. "Did I overhear someone earlier saying Lady Sian had delivered? 'Cause I think some pleasant news would go over /really/ well about now."
Eventually, E'sere's meanderings carry him toward the plate-sharing Weyrleader and his goldrider, the wingleader pauses nearby to greet them with a simple, "Sir. Weyrwoman." He pauses a moment to study the pair, their arrangement, before noting to the elder man, "I didn't intend, sir, to intrude earlier--I hope I didn't ruin your pleasant chat with my cousin?" His words are wry, more formality than anything; E'sere knows better than anyone about those 'pleasant chats' with S'lien.
However unreadable, Issa still attempts to read Reyce's reaction, but ends up simply tearing her eyes away to pay attention to the sister's chatter. "I think that's a wonderful idea. He confided in me that he did find it all very impressive." The greenrider lies, convincingly, but still lies. "
Issa adds, "I must make sure I'm invited. I'd love to see it."
Aelan nods to Dara, smile slipping crookedly wry. "And a girl," she adds, lowering her voice slightly. "/Really/ good news. Can you imagine if it'd been a boy, with her still being, you know, sort of Lady Holder? A dragonrider's son? It'd be like-" By chance, her gaze crosses E'sere, and Aelan suddenly shuts up. "Right, so where's that iced cream?" she asks lightly.
"Well, the conversation did rather come to a grinding halt at that point," Yevide concedes with a laugh, inspecting a morsel of cake from all sides before popping it into her mouth. Her enjoyment of it is not quite proper; lashes lowered, head tilted back, she murmurs a small sound of appreciation. And then, a return to the conversation. "Can you imagine such a thing over the desert, in Igen? It would be visible forever."
Essdara rolls her eyes a bit, leading Aelan back to the weyr enterance. "Definately no more wine. I think it's sweet that they found each other, to be honest. It's nice to know two people in such disparate social situations can still find some happiness. Yes, I definately approve of that." She obtains two bowls of the carob-mint dessert and offers one to Aelan. "Here. I'd've thought you would feel the same?"
"I can only imagine, my dear." G'thon is frankly entranced, enjoying Yevide's enjoyment with eyes quite fast upon her. So he can be, perhaps, excused a bit for being belated in realizing that E'sere has addressed him. He turns to the wingleader a bit suddenly but, after a beat, just lets him in on the little vignette that is he, the weyrwoman, and their cake. "No, no, of course not, E'sere. In fact, one might say you came by at the perfect moment. I hope I didn't abandon you too quickly and leave you with nothing as a topic of conversation?" The already-crooked brow slips higher up the old Weyrleader's long pate; his tone is as dry as E'sere's had been, but good-humored.
Reyce is evidently still paying /some/ attention, because he looks sharply at Issa when she lies. He starts to protest, but closes his mouth on the words. When Carina looks to him for confirmation, her smile bemused, he offers only a shrug - allowing confirmation, if she wants to take it that way. She does. "Aw, Reyce. You /do/ like a show." Something sparks in his eyes, and he mutters, "Whatever." His glance goes to Issa. "You'll be invited if you want to be. It's not like Benden's parties are exclusive."
Aelan takes the dessert from Dara with a quick smile and murmured thanks before taking a spoonful, thoughtful. "I dunno," she admits after a moment. "I mean, part of me thinks it's nice for them. But at the same time, once you let yourself get boxed into that Lady Holder path, you've sort of got a /responsibility/, y'know? Whatever you're doing, you oughta do it right. You have to cover things, or you get a mess like what happened when my father got confirmed instead of my uncle." Oblivious to any deeper substance in her words, she continues on the iced cream, looking up with a quick grin. "S'good."
E'sere seems ignorant of Aelan's glance; at the least, he's far enough away not to pick up her words or the insinuation behind them. Far more important to him is the conversation with the Weyrleader; his regard of Yevide and her cake-eating spectacle is brief, the man too polite to comment, though he's plainly less enthralled with her than G'thon. Instead, he focuses on the man. "I thought I might have, sir. He can be... a little much," is his rather bland consensus on his cousin. "Still," he adds after a moment, "it's always nice to catch up with a family member you've not spoken to, in some time."
As the music winds down the numbers of gather-goers begin to split evenly three ways: part hover around or in the kitchen, waiting to find out what happened with the guards. Part hover around the serving tables or the dining tables, enjoying a late repast to fortify them for a long night of celebration and debauchery. And part simply retreat into the shadows, either to attend Turn's End at other places around Pern or to retire to their beds so as to greet the new turn refreshed in the morning.
Mission accomplished. Having gotten a reaction out of Reyce, Issa smiles innocently at him and shrugs subtly as his sister turns to him, taking the chance of the lull in conversation to drink her wine. "I'd love to be invited, exclusive or not. Thank you." Mischief shines through her polite facade. But, as if to make up for it, Issa doesn't continue teasing, and instead asks, "How are classes going, Reyce? Anything new and controversial from Sefton lately?"
Essdara chuckles and takes a spoonful of her own to suck on; she's not rushing teh eating of the delicacy. "But she wasn't actually allowed to be, was she? She was just regent for her son. She's only got the title, the way I hear it, cause it was given to her. Seems they turned on her first, no?" A shrug. "But regardless, everyone deserves to be happy. Responsibility that consumes one's life, that's not something anyone should have to endure."
Yevide turns to E'sere, a piece of cake between two fingers, and she levels a smile at the younger man. Less enthralled? Unconcerned, it would seem. "Family are so valuable," she agrees, equally bland, lashes lowering as she goes for another bite of the cake. No display, this time, although a sidelong glance at G'thon. "So, too, are new ties. Don't you think it's fascinating, watching so many forged in one evening? The conversation positively thrums." E'sere is treated to a speculative glance, then, eyes running up and down him. "I imagine you would make new acquaintances easily, Wingleader."
"Someone has to do it," Aelan shrugs to Dara, continuing with the desert. "I mean, if no one acts responsibly and takes charge for the stability of things, then no one else has the freedom to do what they want and what makes them happy." She looks up, smile wry. "And seeing how I'm kind of attached to the freedom to do what I want, I'm very committed to other people being responsible," she winks.
"It is indeed," replies G'thon with an inclination of his head to E'sere. Then Yevide says what she does and does what she does so well, and the Weyrleader laughs a little - but he lets go the plate, allowing the weyrwoman to be responsible in full for the dessert. His hands find a place to rest against the small of his back, shoulders straightened by this posture. "No one makes acquaintances as easily as you do, Yevide. Your charisma is enviable." Strangely enough, it's the younger man G'thon's gaze gravitates to as he says this, as pleasant as he seems.
Reyce has some trouble reading that abrupt shift from her, as evidenced by the fact that he scans Issa's face again. Not finding any answers there, he shrugs and directs a glance at his sister, instead. "I guess. He had some class about what it means to be Blooded, but I missed it." Carina raises an eyebrow, which is the response he was waiting for. Reyce shoots Issa a dark smile. "He wants his students to go around High Reaches asking people what their opinions are on Blood and privilege. Whether we deserve to exist, something like that." He shrugs.
From outside in the bowl, the throaty bellow of an unhappy dragon can be heard.
"I never said people shouldn't have to be responsible." Essdara points out. "Just that there is such a thing as being /too/ responsible. But, I think this is a topic for another day. This is starting to feel like one of the conversations Sefton inspires, and I am doing my best to avoid him and his thoughts, if only for a night." She grins a bit, "Besides, if /you/ plan to avoid that responsibility, then I will just chalk it up as a good thing and get on with things." She looks at the bowl at the dragon, and frowns slightly. "That's never a good sign..." She comments.
Miniyal looks towards the exit to the bowl, but there's an unhappy dragon she doesn't want to be out there with it. Much safer in here with the drunks. Or, she could flee. Why doesn't she flee? No one knows. Possibly not even her. Still, there she lurks in the corner.
"I do try, ma'am," E'sere answers Yevide, his smile self-deprecating. He glances briefly around the party, nodding once before noting, by way of agreement with G'thon, "For some, it is a skill; for others, natural talent. Wingleader E'sere, ma'am--it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last, for I've heard quite a lot of you." He tips his head toward the goldrider, nothing if not polite.
Issa chuckles, joining her gaze with Reyce's though it divulges nothing but sheer interest. "Is that so? And have you? Oh, you should talk with some of the laundresses, if you can. They can be very opinionated. And loud." Speaking of loud, there's that bugling coming from the bowl, and through the entrance, glimpses of an uneasy bronze can be seen. Issa pauses to peer, muttering a slightly worried, "What is going on?"
"I intend to avoid as much responsibility and consume as much iced cream as poss-" Aelan trails off at the sound from the bowl, brows furrowing slightly as she looks to Dara. "Never a good sign," she echoes. "So I'm guessing that means it's not normal?"
Essdara shakes her head, looking worried. "No, it's not. I mean, could just be some drunk rider stubbed his toe, but..." She glances around, and at the group near the kitchens Kierom dissapeared into. "I do wish we knew what was going on." She sighs. "It's impossible to stay in a good mood with this tension!"
"Such easy flattery," Yevide scolds G'thon with a laugh, pulling the plate in against her. "The pleasure is entirely mine, Wingleader. Your 'leader speaks so highly of you, you know. I've heard him say more than once that you'd be an asset to any weyr. Is that not so, G'thon?"
Carina, meanwhile, is giving Reyce a weird look, her eyes narrowed slightly. The bellowing of the dragon distracts her a little, but either she doesn't recognize the unhappiness or there've been too many strange events tonight for her to get concerned about this one; she doesn't seem all that concerned. She merely takes advantage of the noise to lean over and murmur something inaudible to Reyce, who smirks but doesn't look at her. His attention is fixed on Issa. "Your dragon doesn't know?" Whether he does his classwork will have to remain a mystery for the time being.
"You know, if it's really bugging you," Aelan muses around a spoonful of iced cream, "You could always go and check it out. I would, but I think it'd be the end of me if I tried to do anything useful in this dress." She looks around then, slowly starting to walk nonchalantly around the edge of the cavern, casting a mischievous waggle of her brows over her shoulder towards Dara.
Tension? What tension? G'thon is unaware, it seems, of any tension. Except, perhaps, that which zings about between himself, Yevide, and E'sere. "Flattery is easiest when it's honest," muses the Weyrleader, nodding already his equally easy assent to what Yevide has said he says of his wingleader. "High Reaches has been most fortunate to have E'sere's service. He has - pardon me, Wingleader." G'thon inclines his head and overturns one long hand in a solicitous gesture toward E'sere. "You have been a pleasure to work with." It might almost sound like the old man is accepting his future fate.
"The Weyrleader flatters indeed," E'sere replies to Yevide, though his glance strays to meet G'thon's. "I simply do my best, as any other bronzerider would." For the man, he has a small smile, another gentle inclination of his head to the Weyrleader. "The honor, sir, has always been mine. You have ever been too kind to me," he replies easily. "And for that, I thank you."
You'd think watching the party go by would be boring. It probably is, but there Miniyal stays. She does move enough to find a place to sit, carefully gathering up her dress so she doesn't wind up putting a foot on it. That'd be all she'd need.
Issa quickly gives a shake of her head, her eyebrows lowering into a frown. The tension in the caverns seems to seep into her all at once, and she slowly lets her wineglass down onto a bench near the wall. "No, just confusion, agitation. A queen's upset. Blood? Where's blood?" Issa turns to the two unaware of the dragons' building anxiety. "There's definitely something wrong somewhere," she explains, voice serious and calm, but strained. She scans the living cavern, but comes up with nothing.
Essdara makes a face at Aelan. "It's not that." She shrugs. "Anyway, it's probably nothing." She forces on a bright smile. "Still and all, it's been a good evening, so far, even if I only got to dance once. Can I get you anything else, Aelan?" She takes another bite of her minty dessert. "And you need to tell me how you are finding classes and such. You seem a lot less uncertain than when you arrived. Any rumors about you circulating yet?"
"Is it flattery at all, if it's sincere? The Weyrleader once suggested to me that it was simply a statement of fact." Yevide's still at work on her cake, breaking off small pieces with her fingers, turning them over, popping them into her mouth with small noises of relish. In between them, the conversation is continued. "So much that is praiseworthy thus far," she observes to E'sere. "Who knows what might come next?"
"Ah, E'sere, I would I could have been kinder. But if I've ever been harsh surely it served you well." As well as G'thon may have accepted his fate, he's got every excuse for a little reminiscing; fine lines crinkle in the corners of his eyes as he apparently recollects incidents in which he might have been less than forgiving with the younger bronzerider. Then he startles, as if from reverie. He glances at Yevide as though belatedly making note of what she's just said; then he himself says, "Ah." Then, a breath and again, "Ah. - E'sere! This reminds me. I have a service to request of you."
Groups continue to slip away one by one, and between two others, T'ral and Ginella go as well, the brownrider with one arm curled around the shoulders of the weyrwoman. To another party? To Benden? To bed? No sign is given. Instead, with a minimum of fuss, the pair make their exit.
T'ral and Ginella depart.
Click here to go on to Part 5.