A [fine clutch] 2
WHO: ... from part one
WHERE: Western Bowl
WHAT: The second parter, wherein the Cromite also manages to negotiate herself onto better terms with the female convict.
"Not if I can help it." He replies to Z'yi, glancing briefly in the larger man's direction. Oh, he's sniffing him. Chance to make a point. The lightbulb practically dings over his head. "See, the dragon obviously likes the smell of my cologne. I don't understand why you won't smell me, even if I am strange." Gustav shoots to Teris as he continues to eyeball Isforaith, still a touch nervous and remaining on rocked heels. And then, she's given a name. "Thanks, bald relatively intimadating guy. Teris is a /beautiful/ name. I'm still Gustav, it's ugly, I know. At odds with my masculine charms, right?" And that's one thing about talking too much, you often don't notice other things going on around you. Whatever Z'yi is talking to his dragon about goes right over the nanny's head.
Inviere cocks a delicate wheat-colored eyebrow at Warucori. "Apparently they don't eat people." She pauses. "That's what they /tell/ me, anyway." She swills her drink in her glass, boredly, and looks up through her eyelashes at Rorkes. "If memory serves, you're less suck, all swallow." She stops to think about that for a second. "...that was a really terrible metaphor."
Isforaith crows again, a decidedly odd sound coming from a dragon's throat, more like a whale-bellow in resonance than a rooster, and does his damnedest to encircle Teris and Gustav both with body and too-long tail. Z'yi seems resigned, and stares laser-beams at his lifemate for a long moment, before turning a caustic eye to Teris. "Your boss is going to kill me." There's a twitch of lips, and then: "Teris, kid-who-never-shuts-up-- how do you feel about heat?" Z'yi dubiously eyes Isforaith again, as if to gauge the blue's insistence. "'Cause he wants both of you to Stand for Iovniath's clutch, if you two would so oblige His Idiocy." For all the sarcasm, there's expectant gaze settled first on one, then the other.
The aforementioned criminals are, in fact, out and about. It's just past their dinner hour, and the overseers are leading them back to their hole in the eastern bowl in relatively small groups to avoid interrupting the party. Taikrin is in the second of such groups, hanging towards the back of her handful of convicts. None of them seem to be moving very quickly, much to the chagrin of the supervisor: to a man, they are eyeing the party -- and, in particular, the apparent supply of alcohol -- with no small amount of envy. "Eh, great. Lookit them, livin' it up," Taikrin mutters to the short convict walking just in front of her. "Ain't it nice."
Saliqa bounces quite easily to latch with big bright eyes onto what the Weyrwoman's saying, in turn. "Then I suppose we'll have to give them their /own/ party!" Now it's good job, Tiriana! But the other one is talking now. It's a trip, attempting to balance the Weyr leadership, apparently, because, pulling back, the Crom girl only stares K'del down in a bland sort of uncomprehending way. Her nodding has continued absently, but she forces herself to stop. Then, the little noise of her clearing her throat politely. "I'm sorry, sir. It's quite noisy out here, I'm afraid I didn't really hear you. The eggs? I saw them.. they're quite nice... but I was saying..." Hand-wave at Tiriana. Support!
"/What/," says Tiriana, squawking out just that word as K'del spits his question out. And Z'yi, too, so Tiriana, trying to keep up with it all, swings her head around that way and looks suddenly desperate. "Not /them/," she says in the end, lower lip quivering. "She's my--and she--" The most she can do is flap a hand vaguely at Teris, and then Saliqa, desperately. Gustav? Who cares about him when her protege and her fashion advisor are getting stolen from right underneath her nose.
"Ale, definitely," Gabe opines. "I mean, wine is for really sophisticated people. Most dragons are just... more ale types, you know? At least all the dragons /I've/ know. Except maybe mom's. Her green might be more of a wine type of dragon."
"It... is," agrees Rorkes, delicately, with a pointed look to Warucori. There's a kid in the room! "I'm not quite sure what to make of that," he adds, though, on the end. "Have you met Cori here? She's new, I do believe. And no, no, they won't eat you, however big their teeth are. Though sometimes they like to act meaner than they are, but." A shrug. To Inviere, "How are you doing, then? No more... bad nights like that one?"
K'del ignores - blatantly ignores - Tiriana's response so that he can explain to Saliqa, "No, no-- he wants you to /stand/ for them. He wants you to be a /Candidate/." And if that wasn't enough? A glance back at the hatching grounds, where, presumably, Cadejoth is egging him on, results in the Weyrleader catching sight of the convicts. "Oh! Someone stop them... We really should let /some/ of them stay. It's a party for everyone!" Make him stop.
"I'm not going to smell you!" Teris, the easily agitated, might swing at Gustav if she were more that sort. Never mind any smacking of little boys earlier. But whatever else she might have possibly said or been thinking, she's left staring blankly at the bluerider in the end. "Excuse me? If this is you trying to get me to sleep with you, first, it won't work, second, you do realize that that's generally frowned upon, right?"
Silarra grins over to Gabe. "True. Though maybe some of them would be into the harder stuff as well. But I bet it would take a /ton/ of rum to keep a dragon happy." And apparently this is something that really needs consideration.
Warucori gives Inviere a downright puzzled look at her comment about the harper, glancing at him before perking up and politely interjects, "he would swollow more if he could get some wine I bet. But people seem to be cutting in." At the dragon-bellow she startles again, no outburst this time thankfully but she puts a hand to her chest. "My word..." A warm smile returns for Inviere and she offers out her hand when she gets introduced. "so pleased to meet you. Oh yes, I'm new...I guess hiding it is out of the question." The understatement and the obvious exchange between the two lost on the distracted young woman. "So good that they don't eat people...just roar and snort on people."
"Yeah, body weight is a big factor in alcohol absorption," Gabe says in his most lecture-y healer voice. "So, it would take a lot to get a dragon drunk, unless they metabolize it drastically differently than humans do."
Even if Tiriana doesn't care about him (now), Gustav will still have sex with her at a later date if ever given even the smallest (tiniest, microscopic) hint of opportunity. She never has to fear! He on the other hand has plenty of fears. And one of those is kind of coming true in the form of a dragon wrapping his tail around him. Laughing, "Oh, this is perfect. You can say yes and I can pick a cot right next yours. Then you'll smell me all the time. Though I probably won't be as clean later." He's got his limits though and steps forward and hopefully out of the circle of the blue's tail. Just a little too close. More seriously to Z'yi, "I'll do it. Why not? Right?" There's a roll of his shoulders to Teris. "Don't be jerk, beautiful. Just say yes."
"No more bad nights like /that/ one," Inviere confirms obliquely. "This one isn't turning out to be one of my best, either. I'm used to parties being, oh... what's the word..." Her hand makes circles in the air, searching. "Oh yeah. Fun." She looks sideways at the cluster of Weyrleaders and Saliqa and everyone, and open resentment turns to bafflement as she tries to decipher their shocked expressions from afar. Then Warucori, all doe-eyed and hopeful -- how sad -- makes another bid for her attention. "The snorting seems... new." Grey eyes, questioning, go to Rorkes for this. Thoughts?
Impatient, "Teris, I'm not kidding, here," Z'yi shows an otherwise implacable expression, eyebrows lifted. "I mean, I understand if you're too scared about it all, but don't try to blame my int--" His gaze turns about, to Gustav. "See? Even the ki-- Gustav," he ammends himself, "--knows I'm serious. I don't have a knot on me, or I'd give you one, but I can take you back to--" A gestured jerk of the thumb over a shoulder. The living caverns, the candidate barracks, somewhere like that. Isforaith, meanwhile, looks pleased as punch, lowering his head to smell more deliberately at Teris' hair. Who can say no to /that/?
Though the convict-herd is too far away to hear K'del, though most /certainly/ can hear Isforaith. The supervisor himself slows, eyeing the blue cautiously as he does so. "What's he doin' in there, anyways?" Taikrin is just as wary as the others, just louder about it: her voice is slightly shrill with nervousness. "Is he drunk, d'you think? Can they /do/ that?"
"Stand..." Saliqa repeats in that careful way of someone taking dictation. Her only move to attempt to get her hands folded at her chest is unconsciously aborted when her mind goes to juggling other things. "Which would mean... /not/ going home to Crom come time... I just--" Piggybacking on his gaze, she finds the pack of convicts, heralding the return of her pensive finger-tapping. But how to get back on track now! There's an overly polite but somehow still thin smile as she leans slightly in to K'del, "Is it proper, when the Weyrwoman seems to object?"
She might not be wearing quite her heavy boots, but Tiriana's shoe still comes down hard on K'del's foot when he starts flagging the convicts. "Shut the hell up," she hisses at him, not remotely ladylike; not even glowing like she was when she first arrived to the party. "They're /convicts/. It's my party. You're going to ruin my party." She is, apparently, willing to sacrifice Saliqa now, just as long as it means she doesn't have to entertain criminals. See the wobbly lip? "Oh, fine, go on," she huffs at the latter Crommy. "You might as well."
"Good to hear," but Rorkes sounds rather distracted now, watching Isforaith again, or perhaps more the two would-be candidates the blue has cornered. "I believe the searchriders are already out," he answers Inviere, cutting his eyes back to her for a moment, and then including Warucori in the explanation. "They're always so impatient to get started; I'm surprised sometimes the barracks aren't full already by the time we even get eggs."
Silarra looks over to the dragon then back to Gabe with a grin. "Whatever you say, healer-man." She teases for the lecture type tone to his voice. "But that means that with my not-so-gigantic size, I should be able to go really enjoy a drink. I think there's some ale that needs to have /my/ name on it. Not a dragons'."
Gabrion apparently has reached the end of what he has to say about dragons and alcohol. "Yeah. Uh - I'm gonna duck inside for a little bit, but I'll probably come back later. Have fun, okay?" He grins at Silarra, and then heads caverns-ward.
K'del's response to Saliqa is aborted unceremoniously as Tiriana's shoe comes down on his foot. He /is/ wearing boots, which spares him part of the impact-- but not enough that he doesn't let out a little yelp. "Don't be silly," he tells the Weyrwoman, regardless, putting Saliqa on hold for a moment more. "It'd be a nice gesture... just a few of them. /Good/ ones. Hey--" He's waving over a rider standing nearby. "Go tell them. A couple of good ones. With a guard. And-- yes, come on, Saliqa, say yes. Surely Lord Crom wouldn't mind /too/ much." Meanwhile, his rider-messenger is waved away, not waiting for Tiriana's reaction, and heads straight for the convoy of convicts to deliver the message.
Warucori gapes at Inviere, "what's wrong with tonight?" She asks, deftly inserting herself back into Inviere's conversation with a brilliant smile and wide-eyed question. "There's going to be dancing I'll bet. I don't think that your lack of dress should keep you from enjoying a good song and dance. " The line moves suddenly as a cluster of girls who were letting boys in ahead of them suddenly get their food and drink. This causes the girl to miss, or ignore the fact that Inviere isn't warming to her. "Searching?" Curiously she looks back towards the blue dragon and what's going on. "That is how they do it?" She sounds a touch disaproving. "uumm...wow."
"I'm not scared," Teris is quick, very quick, to point out, glancing between both men as she stands up that little bit straighter. Her gaze focuses on Gustav and it's possible he's not doing anything positive for what she's thinking about this. When her blue eyes shift back to Z'yi, she looks almost earnest and petulant. But finally, composure mostly restored, "I'll have to talk to the Weyrwoman."
"Searchriders," Inviere repeats, vaguely. She casts an appraising look to Z'yi. "I always thought they'd be more... elegant. That one," she says, tilting her narrow chin Isforaith's way, "apparently has odd dreams about whiskey. -- My lack of dress?" This latter, for Warucori, is at first incredulous. "What's wrong with my... oh, who am I kidding." She appears to examine the inside of her own skull. And then she drains her glass.
The yelp also gets Saliqa to jump, along with her eyebrows, and her confused expression seems to get surprised away for something less approving of the behavior. Yet somehow amused. Or perhaps she's reacting to the way she rudely points a finger up and goes "Ah, ah!" in support of what's being said. "Yes, good ones, see!" The finger drops like a rock in water, "Oh, well... yes, I suppose it'd be goodwill, it's just-- alright," and this time she cordons herself and K'del off slightly with an arm out plaintively between him and Tiriana. "Alright. You want this-- or Cadejoth, or whomever-- and I want to be able to give the convicts, them on good behavior lists, a night of enjoyment. Trade?" Because that's how this works, right? Of course right.
"Ah, no that's alright. I know where the barracks are. I'll just move in." Like he probably does everywhere else. Just appear and put his clothes someplace. Move in. "But thank you." Now out of the reach of the blue dragon touching him, he seems to be relaxing again without even a shred of nerves. Poof. "And what? Let her make your decision for you? She secretely your mom or something?"
The supervisor only seems to notice the rider when the man is nearly upon him. He lets out a rather undignified squawk, and immediately begins making excuses: "Just now moving them along, really, /so/ sorry to be a bother--" Once the rider finally manages a word in edgewise, however, he pales. "You want them to /what/?" The convicts, obviously overhearing, seem equally surprised; but not for long. Two quickly begin to loudly comment on the readily-available 'goods'... and are quickly shoo'ed back towards the living cavern. "/Good/ ones?!" The supervisor is obviously at a loss. "But they're all /criminals/!" Still, an order is an order. His finger stabs out, pointing first at Taikrin, then the shorter inmate beside her. "You two! If I hear so much as /one/ peep..." Grumbling under his breath, he ushers the other four inmates back inside, promising over his shoulder, "I'll send a few more out." Or... is that a threat?
"Elegant?" The very idea makes Rorkes blink in surprise, his brows furrowing all up as he tries to level that idea with the Weyr. "Are you sure you should be--" He makes a motion to indicate her drinking, adds, "I don't know that I would be able to walk you home again, after all; I'm about to have to go on stage and I'll be there late. But there will be dancing, at least," and, well. It won't matter what you're wearing, really."
"Then you're good. Go report to Milani, then," Z'yi absently states to Gustav, with a distracted wave of the hand. "Tomorrow morning," amended after a minute. "I doubt she wants to see you tonight." Then a brief smile, as if brought to his senses suddenly, and a, "Good luck," to Gustav. "Well, go talk to her, then," to Teris, and he scouts out the weyrwoman with a pointing finger-- "She's that way." An eyebrow lifts, expectantly, as if in challenge. Isforaith doesn't necessarily want to let either of them go, but reluctantly removes himself a pace or two, periously close to tipping over a table.
Inviere narrows her eyes. "You know what I'm talking about," she insists to Rorkes. "All those delightful little fictions your people sing us in our cribs. 'We'll Search out the riders who will love and endure,' that business. You KNOW, Harper." She tightens her grip on her glass -- and licks her lips, mastering herself. For the moment. Ahem. "...I don't think I'll be needing your services this evening, thank you." Errr. "Your ESCORT services, I mean." No, wait.
Warucori mmms and nods her head in agreement to Inviere's opinion of the searching but cuts a quick look towards the dragonriders. "I'm sure they are doing their best though." She takes a step towards the serving table, "I only mean that you are not wearing a dress. You look fine though, I didn't mean to offend you." That said, she grabs up a little cake, "look how cute!" And scoots to one side after snatching up a second one.
Silarra strides off towards the serving tables, angling towards the one with the drinks. It takes a bit of time in line before she has her ale. And then, well, food is good to mix with alcohol. She gazes over to Warucori with a blink. "Food is cute? Like when it's still alive and snorting around?"
There's a long moment where Rorkes just looks at Inviere and doesn't say anything. Finally, "I'm married," he gets out, as thuogh that's going to protect him from any untoward rumors and accusations. "And I should probably--go. Take my turn. Right." As much as Warucori finds distraction in the refreshments, he's edging toward the harper's makeshift stage.
There are convicts joining her party. Tiriana just eyes the approaching ones for a long moment, and then shoots K'del, and Saliqa by extension, her snakiest look. "I," she announces, "am going to get another drink." And she turns and heads that way quickly, for the safety of more liquor. "You two do--whatever you like."
K'del, with brows raised, listens to Saliqa's response otherwise impassively. Whether he thinks he's agreeing to a second night of merriment for 'good' convicts, or just to allowing a couple of them to join tonight, is less clear, but he does, nonetheless, agree, magnanimously: "All right. Done deal." Tiriana? Lalalalala. Except; "Enjoy yourself." Big smile. Meanwhile, the rider, having delivered his message, backs away rather rapidly from the convicts. They may have been invited, but...
Inviere stares at Rorkes, defeated. "Fine," she says at last. "Have it your way." She thrusts her empty glass at him, like an irrefutable argument, and turns to leave.
Teris glares properly at Gustav, daggers and all, then at Isforaith and finally Z'yi again, though he at least gets a slightly softer glare. "Fine," she tells the bluerider and then she's walking off toward Tiriana, downing the rest of her wine along the way. At least she doesn't toss the glass to the ground or anything. She'll probably need it again. "Weyrwoman," she speaks up as she nears the goldrider.
Warucori turns a bright smile at Silarra and holds up the little citron cake with a jelly-bean stuck in the golden icing. "It's a little egg in the sand. Isn't it clever? And cute." She sniffs it, "And yummy smelling too." There's a squee there, building, but she's not quite comfortable enough to let it out. "Steaks are not cute. But taste very good. Especially the roasted ones they served up a few nights ago." It dawns on her that the harper and Inviere have left without saying goodbye and she frowns in thought, looking for them and seeing them both leaving in different directions. "My gosh."
Taikrin steers cautiously towards the serving tables, the other convict at her side. Her entire frame is wound up tight, dark gaze moving ceaselessly over the gathered crowd. "What d'you think the deal is, Ganner?" The other inmate moves just as warily, his shoulders tight enough that his shrug appears as more of a twitch. "Dunno." Taikrin pauses in a mysteriously opened hole in the crowd, still a couple of paces from the food. And the liquor. Especially the liquor. "Think this is some kinda joke? Like, someone's gonna start throwin' stuff at us or somethin'?" Her gaze continues to jerk this way and that, as expecting of violence as a cat in a kennel.
"What," says Tiriana, not even turning it into a question. She steels her shoulders, takes a deep breath, and makes sure she has liquor in hand before she turns to face Teris. "It's already ruined. /He/--" she gestures at K'del, eyes his pair of convicts long and hard "--invited /them/. So what do you want?"
Z'yi maneuvers closer, but not too close, obviously torn between wanting to overhear the Teriana conversation and not get entrapped into it, himself. Then he realizes that Isforaith's still in the middle of the crowd, and turns to eye his lifemate expectantly. The blue, meanwhile, turns to look longingly towards a pretty brown-haired girl, and Z'yi's, "Oh /hell/ no," can be heard from quite a bit away. "We're leaving." Raith turns, with no little amount of dejection, to grumble his way out of the crowd.
Silarra eyes the little citron cake thing with a wrinkled nose. "So they want us to imagine we're eating miniature dragon eggs for dessert?" Silarra questions. "Smelling good? Now that's something I'd expect is a good thing for food." And so she'll reach out and grab one, poking at the little egg shape.
"Oh, lovely!" is declared by Saliqa with a little clap of her hands before the entirety of the situation has really dawned. She's mighty proud of herself, if those distinctly crossed arms can speak of moods. "That just leaves telling the harpers," she hums this a bit low to herself before a stray glance at K'del reminds her of the company. There's a bit of those stiff shoulders returning, but she's otherwise got a more companionable look for the young Weyrleader than previous days. "You've made her all upset you know. Probably at me. Now I'll have to make another pair of earrings."
It's only now, with Tiriana gone, and Saliqa saying what she is, that K'del starts to look a little wary. As though he's just realising what he agreed to. As though... Well, whatever it is, he gives her a blank-ish kind of nod for the first couple of her remarks, followed by, a few moments later, "Oh, she's always upset, don't worry about it. She'll calm down. Reckon I ought to go talk to the convicts? They look... kind of lost." Beat. "Oh, and I guess you'll have to move into the barracks, and stuff. I... don't really know how this all works. Never had to do it before."
Warucori pulls the purple jelly-bean off the top of hers, "oh...do you think it's disrespectful? Maybe we should keep the jellybeans instead? The cake is harmless though--just 'sand' afterall. Or, you know what I mean." This said, she happily eats the first little cake. Her eyes trail past Silarra and she watches the newcomers to the table as she chews, balacing the other cake in her free hand.
"He invited who?" Teris has been distracted but she looks toward K'del briefly and murmurs a quieter, "Oh." Beat. "I suppose it can wait. It's nothing important. Just, that dragon," she gestures vaguely toward the large blue lump that's rather difficult to miss, "He thinks-- Well. I wanted to speak with you first. There's a lot of work to be done and--" Take a picture. Teris being obviously awkward, even to this small extent, isn't something that happens every day.
Inviere rearranges her sleeved arms in the pockets of her coat. She doesn't resume the hunched, misanthropic posture she brought to the party -- no, she strides off towards the Weyr's innards with her back in a rigid line, maybe a little too ridiculous to be effectively imperious. Still, she pauses by K'del, now that Tiriana's quit orbiting him, and offers a terse, "Congratulations." She focuses on his face and, even if she can't catch his eye, adds darkly: "Consider a party planner." And then she stalks off for once and all.
This, of course, only makes Tiriana look more crestfallen, and with things having been a little weird since their fight anyway--. She shrugs. "It's up to you. Whatever," she says, less breezily than she'd perhaps like. "Not like... you couldn't come back to work, afterward. When the hatching's over." Another shrug, like she doesn't know quite what else to say to this idea. She does look distinctly uncomfortable herself, though.
"The barracks?" It's Saliqa's turn to give a nod she doesn't necessarily mean, a bobbing gesture for pure show. Nervously, her lower lip rolls in to get chomped at by her teeth and she sucks insistently at this for a time before, eyes downcast, she can voice, "Now, I don't aim to be rude, but... seeing as how you brought up never having done this before, is there a chance you... well, is there a chance you -- umm, misinterpreted, sir?" It's 'made a mistake' without saying 'made a mistake'. Conveniently, Inviere's passing by creates a distraction through which Saliqa finds a transition to wave her hand at the convicts. "Did you-- I mean, would company help?"
Silarra looks over to Warucori for a second before she shrugs. "I doubt they'd feed it too us if it was disrespectful. I just think it's, well, odd." She decides. But then the young woman takes a big bite of hers, downing the jellybean as part of it. The stablehand pauses to chew a bit before Silarra adds. "Well, it's tastey enough, if way too cutesy."
Taikrin edges closer to the table, now studying the contents with as much focus as she had previously eyed her surroundings. "Don't suppose they'd do nothing weird to 'em, not with the girls eating." Warucori and Silarra are gifted with a flat, emotionless stare. "Must be safe." Ganner half-turns, obviously watching Taikrin's back, and grunts an affirmative. "I'll just--" Taikrin's hand darts out, as swift and precise as if she was picking the cakes out of a pocket rather than off a platter, and hands one off to her companion. A big bite, then: "Humph." Mouth half-full of cake, she adds: "Ain't so bad."
"No." K'del's pretty firm about this, though the trace of a smile lingers on his expression in the wake of it. "Cadejoth's pretty definite, and apparently, so was Isforaith. Or... maybe it was just Isforaith, and Cadejoth-- dunno." And doesn't matter. It's only belatedly that he turns to glance after Inviere, frowning vaguely, though there's a nod there, too. "If you like?" he adds, returning his attention to Saliqa. "Come on. I think they ventured towards the food tables."
You paged K'del with 'Is one of those not supposed to be Isforaith, or am I failing at reading?'.
Warucori had removed the purple jellybean before munching the cake, as eveident between her fingers. She grins at Silarra and once she's finished with her mouthful she notes, "I don't think it would keep well anyway, all sugar and what-not." She shrugs at it being too cutesy, "There are klah-cakes too, or maybe spice, they don't look as decorated." Not that she's going for more, still holding onto her second citron pastry. "I'm Cori by the way...Warucori." The flat statres from Taikrin and company get a warm smile of greeting, though a little puzzled over them.
Teris frowns and though she didn't really seem all that terribly excited, per se, Tiriana's response to it all deflates her somewhat. "I... Well, perhaps it would be best to think about it for a few days, hmm? It's not as though the eggs are going anywhere. And I could decline. I don't want to inconvenience you, Tiriana." Which is actually rather sincere. That and she's a bit of a workaholic. Maybe even a little bit that being a candidate is more or less a demotion.
Screeeeech! Isforaith was leaving, you see, until he had the misfortune of overhearing this little exchange between Teris and Tiriana, and now he's making to storm over there-- and he would! He would, indeed, except for Z'yi's pretty much dragging him off. "If she's /too scared/," maybe loud enough for Teris to overhear, "We can only ask." And he's really dragging Raith away, this time, leaving the pair to decide Teris' fate.
"Yeah." This is not particularly enthusiastic, either, though, as Tiriana just watches Teris a long moment. "Think on it, if you want. No hurry, your decision, all that. --I should go; there's still a lot of people waiting to, you know. Congratulate me." It is apaprently the best excuse she can come up with for getting out of one very awkward conversation. That, and guzzling down her drink.
Silarra looks over to Taikrin and the other convict for a moment. Her expression is even. Hey, at least they don't rate the glare Inviere got. And then she's looking back to Warucori again. "Or maybe I should eat all of these to spare anyone else from seeing the cutesi-ness." But she's not reaching out for another, drinking from her ale instead before she nods. "Cori. Good to meet you. I'm Silarra. You been around here long? I'm far from knowing half the weyr yet."
If there's a worried, lingering glance towards where her fellow Cromites are talking, obliviously, Saliqa reins it in quickly enough. "Isfe.. Isforaith and Cadejoth. And Io... vniath is the queen-mother." Knowing this seems to satisfy something in the girl. Raising her chin to display a bit of poise again, she tips her head to acknowledge his direction. But first, a small 'ahem ahem', and she's holding out her hand in vague expectancy; she's just short of reaching for his arm, because the man offers first. She's definitely just holding her hand aimlessly. That's all.
Taikrin stuffs the second half of her egg-cake into her mouth, leaving crumb-laiden wreckage down her chin and on her shirt that a half-hearted brush with her hand does little to dislodge. "Ain't nobody come fussing yet," is the cautiously optimistic observation. Taikrin and Ganner meet gazes silently for a moment, then nod. Assuming a somewhat frightening smile, Taikrin closes the few paces that remain between her and the girls. The other inmate remains still, very much playing the sentry to her scout. "Fine party, girls! Fine party! Having a good time, eh?"
Warucori gives a small shake of her head as she nibbles a corner of the cake, "only been here a couple sevendays so far. How about you?" She looks very pleased as Taikrin comes up, and why not? MOre people to meet right? "Hello there. It's a very nice party. Good food and there's music." SHe lets out a soft sigh, "we never have such finery at home."
Teris gives her head a small nod, catching her lower lip briefly before she manages her own, "Congratulations, Weyrwoman." She doesn't try to keep the other woman from leaving, but she does look a little upset as she turns toward the drink table after glancing briefly in Z'yi's direction. "I'm not afraid," she tells the person nearest her after that but as soon as she has a full glass against, she's heading away from this shindig.
K'del's expression is approving, if distinctly amused. "That's right," he tells Saliqa, warmly. "You'll get the hang of it all in no time, promise." The way she holds her arm makes him frown for a moment, before, after a few very heavy beats, he seems to get the point, and offers her his arm. After that, it's straight off towards Taikrin and her companion near the food tables, smile back in force.
"Can you not even /try/ to look respectable?" says Tiriana in exasperation as she steps away from Teris and happens to encounter Taikrin, Warucori, and Silarra next. It's the convict among them that earns the hardest look from the goldrider, and she even sighs to complete the look. Teris is forgotten--or pushed to the back of her mind--surprisingly quickly, as the Weyrwoman resigns herself to this latest incursion on her party. "Faranth."
Silarra looks over towards the inmate and rolls her eyes. "There's food and alcohol. And music. What's not to like?" And her tone isn't quite sincere on that. She turns back to the other girl. "So pretty new. I've been here since the end of the summer. Nice to stay in one place so long."
"Yes, I will," Saliqa responds, not haughty but full of determination. She shakes herself off as to dispel a bad feeling while K'del figures his manners out and then, eyes gleaming with her own private amusement, she slips her arm in his the way a proper lady does. "One day you too." That delivered, they're off to the food table where, it seems, the congregation has already grown. "Greetings, everyone, hello!" She pipes up, more like a hostess than a guest, herself. But not a second after, Taikrin is, in fact, recognized with a quick snorted breath and a narrowing of eyes.
Warucori nods her head to Silarra, "You move around a lot? That must be nice." Her words drift off as she follows the look to Taikrin noting the tone and the looks and the dress of the woman and her companion. She gives them a much longer looks this time but before all the details can pile up to a grand sum she's distracted by the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader's arrival. She manages not to drop her cake and curtsy in a reasonable manner. "Congratulations. The party is wonderful."
"I'm with you, girls! What ain't to like!" Taikrin gives a quick bark of obviously forced laughter. "Ain't seen folks having a good time like this in almost two turns, now." Not so many parties in the depths of the mines. The false merriment in her voice matches the grin on her face for awkward discomfort. "So nice to be able to-- to be able to pay our respects to the Weyrwoman!" Taikrin's voice rises a quarter octave at Tiriana's approach. "So kind of you to invite us, Weyrwoman! Me and Ganner, here, we ain't seen such generosity." Either oblivious to the look or outright ignoring it, Taikrin babbles on in a voice turned ingratiating. "Hope there was lots of fine eggs, and, err..." Trailing off, her gaze darts nervously once more, this time ending on Saliqa and K'del. Eyes narrow marginally, though only for the briefest second before nervousness begins to disintegrate into outright panic. "Ah, well, maybe we should just be going now, uh..."
"Oh, Faranth," grumbles Tiriana, with a dark look for K'del when he approaches. "This is their idea of the well-behaved ones?" She just shakes her head, sighs again, and then turns, without so much as a by-your-leave as she makes her exit again.
K'del doesn't register - or, at least, doesn't /react/ to - Saliqa's remark, breezily silent until they've joined the little group. If Tiriana's presence bothers him even at all, he doesn't say or show as much; instead, he focuses his high-wattage smile on the convicts, looking ever so pleased. It dims rather immediately in the wake of Taikrin's reaction... he looks genuinely disappointed. "No! Please. Don't go. Invited you, didn't we? Think it's really good that you could join us... really!" He sounds almost rather desperate. In the wake of that, perhaps it's no wonder that he barely manages to register everyone else, giving little more than a vague nod to the group.
Saliqa's laced in with the Weyrleader and she doesn't seem to display any intentions to let him go -- though this may be more out of distraction than attraction. What's left of her narrow gaze has hopped from the rambling convict to Tiriana's departing form and her mouth thins out in reaction. Her free arm swinging to a relaxed place on her hip is as much of a 'shucks!' as actually letting the words escape. By the time she's turned back, more of them have left and Taikrin is burning a hole in their stay. "Really!" She chirps in, "He was right for the idea."
Taikrin freezes mid-step at K'del's exclamation, a somewhat sickly smile fixed on her face. "Ah-- yeah, sir, a'course, uh, so good of you and th'Weyrwoman, uh..." As people dash off, one after the next, Taikrin's awkwardness only seems to grow. Tiriana's departure in particular is met with a noticible paling of her face beneath its smattering of crumbs. "We, uh, really appreciate it. Uh. Hope the laying went well. Sir." A hand brushes ineffectively at the crumbs on her face again, though it does little more than attract attention to them. "Saw you even had th'dragons in, uh, partyin'. So generous of ya, sir." A few other convicts have since trickled out of the living cavern to partake of the festivities, though none seem to be having a particulary good time at it. "Sure everyone'll be talking about this fer a long time, sir."
But K'del's not so stupid as he can't see exactly how awkward this is making things, and he can't quite make his smile return to earlier wattage. "It went very well," he assures Taikrin, as warmly as he can manage. "And-- er, yes. Isforaith was rather enthusiastic. Candidate hunting already, as it turns out." He glances at Saliqa, then back towards Taikrin. "Saliqa here seems to have particular regard for you all... determined to see you get some enjoyment, she is."
Saliqa had really sort of stopped smiling altogether, but she wrangles her mouth into shape when she's referred to. It's a note that doesn't quite reach into her eyes, as they instead are occupied in investigating Taikrin's look. Briefly, she settles on the convict beside her, and it seems to be this divert that allows her to work her way around some words, "Oh yes, that I am. And it was ever so kind of you, again, sir Weyrleader, to grant me the chance to see that done." Nothing tricky about the way she says it, but there's still cautiousness about her.
"That's what he was doin'?" Taikrin sheds a bit of nervousness at this revelation. "What with all that racket? Huh. Didn't know it was so noisy. Uh, sir." Mention of Saliqa draws Tai's attention back to the other girl. The false smile makes a slow return, though with obvious effort. "I just be she is! Full of concern for us. Ain't that what I was sayin' earlier, Ganner? That Saliqa, she's just overflowing needing t'do us a good turn." There's nothing overtly threatening in her expression. Yet. "What sort of thing you have in mind, eh Salie? Don't mind if I call you Salie, do you? Feel like we're getting so close, I do."
"Uh," says K'del. "Sure. Of course." He pauses a beat, then adds to Taikrin, "Saliqa's going to be one of those candidates, in fact." It's kind of an aside: something he can add to the conversation without seeming too superfluous. And too awkward, given the turn of conversation. "It's not usually so... noisy. Isforaith's just, um, a bit enthusiastic, is all. Bit like his sire." He shed his two empty glasses at some point, and now holds his spare arm a little awkwardly.
Sweet sugary nothings melt into Saliqa's own smile in return, her head lightly tilted in what is usually feigned interest but now has more of an edge to it. "Do you? That's, well, so unfortunate. I don't have the pleasure of /your/ name. I'm sorry you were mistaken. But I'll be arranging a night off for the convicts. Food, music, cards. Low-key and non-disruptive, of course. I understand if that isn't your thing. It won't be everyone's, that's the short and unhappy of it." In way, by the time she's gotten all of her words out, she's also settled as far as bristly, defensive maneuvers go and she offers a helpless lift of her shoulders as ending. Her face tilts even more up, eyeing K'del, almost scolding for a moment: "He breathed all over everyone, is that one usual?"
Taikrin seems genuinely surprised at K'del's revelation, though her efforts to appear overtly friendly soon make the expression cartoonish. "A candidate? Really? Ain't that dangerous, a pretty girl like you? Heard sometimes the hatchling's eat 'em. Sir? That so?" Quick glance to the Weyrleader, seeking affirmation. The mention of a convict party injects a bit of true wariness back into her smile. "A night off, really? A party?" She shifts her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, apparently thrown off-balance by the unexpected offer. "Could be okay, that," she allows grudgingly. "More a dice girl, myself, though." A hand is extended, palm up, towards Saliqa with all the caution one would use when putting a hand in a tunnelsnake nest. "Uh. Taikrin."
So /that/ is what K'del agreed to... he looks momentarily thoughtful, but ultimately enlightened, but doesn't remark on it. Before he can respond to anything, though, Taikrin's remark on the dangerousness of Standing has him looking horrified-- he jumps in there, hastily declaring, "Eat them? Oh, no, not usually." Beat. "Er, I mean, no, they don't. There are... very occasional injuries, but usually because people are being stupid. No." Because that makes it sound /so/ safe. "The breathing... only sometimes. Some of them, I mean." The awkwardness seems to be getting the better of him; he glances warily between the two women, and then begins to try and draw his arm away from Saliqa. "I should mingle some more. Er-- have a good time?" This man, always running away.
It isn't hard to get away from Saliqa; she makes no efforts to glue him to the spot, but slips her arm into her own personal space as soon he starts moving. "Oh, yes. Congratulations again, sir." She's also not perfect at dismissing the discomfort and regret that drifted in at the less than reassuring spot about this Standing thing she's agreed to. So her eyebrows are yet forming a straight line above her eyes when she moves to lightly drape the edges of her fingers over Taikrin's for the tiny handshake of a lady. "Taiking," she accepts, "Then I guess that makes you my leading helper for the newly founded dice game. Does that take anything besides dice that I should be asking for?" It's all blissfully sincere as she even levels a look both curious and expectant at the other.
Taikrin withdraws her hand as if still expecting to be bitten. Both arms are folded across her chest defensively. "Your... what?" Her duly-appointed role is startling enough that the mispronounciation of her name goes entirely unnoticed. "Uh. Besides dice?" Wildly out of her element, now, she latches back onto K'del's statement with a rushed: "My ma used to tell us about a hatching she went to when she was a girl and they ate three whole candidates. Robes and all." Suddenly thoughtful, she continues. "Kinda thought that's what the sniffing was for. Checking for flavor, like." A pause, then: "Uh, sir." Mustn't forget the formalities.
"Your mother was telling you tall tales," insits K'del, fastening a meaningful glance at Taikrin, which can't really do much to dismiss the story. Again. He gives the two girls once more long glance, takes a breath, and then turns to move back through the crowd, leaving them to each other. There are other, less awkward, conversations to be had.
It's obvious Saliqa's nose is scrunching up further and further at this growing image of death by dragon swallowing and her own hands draw to her chest where she rubs at her arms self-consciously. "... Yes, besides dice," she carries on nobly once the Weyrleader's wandered off, "I'm saying that if having a dice game will make you happy for this rest day, then I'd like to make sure you have what you need for it. I've seen others play cards, but never dice, so you're clearly more capable as to making sure it's done right."
Taikrin's expression remains one of disbelief, though she doesn't press the point any further with K'del. Seconds after her disappears, she mutters, "My ma swears she saw it..." Shaking her head, she returns her attention to Saliqa; if Taikrin's aware of how uncomfortable the discussion is making the other girl, she doesn't show it. "Well, I do like dice." She shifts her weight again, awkwardly. "Dice're a proper betting game. Not so formal like cards. Faster, too." Her voice turns slightly wistful, of all things-- a difficult note to pick out over her normally gruff tones. "Ain't got nothin' to bet with, though. Dice needs betting. Half the fun, that is."
"They had the women leave the room for dice at home," Saliqa speaks thoughtfully in turn, without any of that previous haughtiness rising; she's only honestly reminiscing. "I always imagined it was because they'd get to swearing. Something to bet with, though, yes, that's a bit trickier." Breaking the comfort they were giving her arms, her hands part. One of them darts to her mouth where she indulges in a bit of nibbling on her nail. As soon as she catches the habit, she pulls the hand away and gives it a right shake. "I suppose I'll have to think of something... a special dessert from the cooks-- it isn't going to be what you're used to, of course. I can't support old habits altogether."
Taikrin laughs, but it's an honest sound lacking in the biting mockery she usually indulges with. "Well, it ain't a proper women's game, that's for sure. Swearing, heh. That ain't near the worst of it." Head is shaken bemusedly; though her gaze is not exactly trusting, a good deal of the wariness has seeped out of her posture. "Good quarter of the best dice games end in a good tussle." A pause, then she's quick to reassure: "Suppose that ain't likely t'happen here, though. No marks on the line, and all. 'Sides, this lot's pretty tame." If these convicts are Tai's definition of /tame/... "Dunno what, but it's gotta be somethin' small, like, so we can throw it into the pot. Easy to carry."
Saliqa's eyes widen to their full extent at the sound of the laugh but, when she blinks herself back to normality it's to a pleasant stare. That is, when she isn't bringing her palms up warily in front of her and turning her head to each side speedily-- it's the furtive gesture-child of a headshake and a glance around to check for eavesdroppers. "Ohhh, yes-- no! A tussle would be, not to mention most inappropriate, a very, very bad idea. Convince 'em all right away I wrong to suggest the evening at all. Say... how'd you feel if I asked you the favor of seeing how the other convicts take the idea? I'd like to know if I'd have a riot on my hands or if things would be amenable. Since I butted my way into the work line that one day, a few of 'em look at me rather funny... I think they'd much prefer to hear things from you."
Taikrin's hands come up defensively, as if to ward off this sudden responsiblity. "/Me/? I ain't a planner! All I know is crackin' rocks and not getting my /own/ head cracked. But..." As the idea penetrates, however, she seems to warm to it: a somewhat sly smile slowly curves her thin lips. "Maybe I could say somethin' to a few guys, see if we can't stop that riot of yours. S'pose it could be worth my time. 'Specially if we got stuff even close to good as this." A hand is waved in the general direction of the dessert-and-drink area. "Maybe you might--" Whatever she might have said, however, is broken off with an oath as Ganner, still on watch duty, taps her roughly on the shoulder. "Time's up," is his warning. Sure enough, overseers are making their way through the thinning crowd and rounding up their charges once more. Now that the Weyrleader is gone, apparently it's time to re-establish control. "Gotta run, Saliqa." The full name is given without a bit of mockery. "Dinnertime tomorrow, I'll let you know. Look for me."
Above Saliqa's eye twitches a bit as the oath happens, but the rest of her is bright and eager as far as relations with the convicts go. "Oh, yes, here they go," she observes of the overseers, who are given a low-brow skeptical eye even from her. "Alright, then, dinnertime it is. And thank you, a little bit of help goes a long way. This is a good step for you, too." Far from the preachy she might have started out with, the sentence ends up actually sounding rather sly, itself -- a merchant's side of things. She even adds, "One good turn deserves another," with a bit of an upturned smile and then she's backing off to let the overseers do what they do. For her, it's time to retire inside; apparently, she's got a barracks to move into.
WHERE: Western Bowl
WHAT: The second parter, wherein the Cromite also manages to negotiate herself onto better terms with the female convict.
"Not if I can help it." He replies to Z'yi, glancing briefly in the larger man's direction. Oh, he's sniffing him. Chance to make a point. The lightbulb practically dings over his head. "See, the dragon obviously likes the smell of my cologne. I don't understand why you won't smell me, even if I am strange." Gustav shoots to Teris as he continues to eyeball Isforaith, still a touch nervous and remaining on rocked heels. And then, she's given a name. "Thanks, bald relatively intimadating guy. Teris is a /beautiful/ name. I'm still Gustav, it's ugly, I know. At odds with my masculine charms, right?" And that's one thing about talking too much, you often don't notice other things going on around you. Whatever Z'yi is talking to his dragon about goes right over the nanny's head.
Inviere cocks a delicate wheat-colored eyebrow at Warucori. "Apparently they don't eat people." She pauses. "That's what they /tell/ me, anyway." She swills her drink in her glass, boredly, and looks up through her eyelashes at Rorkes. "If memory serves, you're less suck, all swallow." She stops to think about that for a second. "...that was a really terrible metaphor."
Isforaith crows again, a decidedly odd sound coming from a dragon's throat, more like a whale-bellow in resonance than a rooster, and does his damnedest to encircle Teris and Gustav both with body and too-long tail. Z'yi seems resigned, and stares laser-beams at his lifemate for a long moment, before turning a caustic eye to Teris. "Your boss is going to kill me." There's a twitch of lips, and then: "Teris, kid-who-never-shuts-up-- how do you feel about heat?" Z'yi dubiously eyes Isforaith again, as if to gauge the blue's insistence. "'Cause he wants both of you to Stand for Iovniath's clutch, if you two would so oblige His Idiocy." For all the sarcasm, there's expectant gaze settled first on one, then the other.
The aforementioned criminals are, in fact, out and about. It's just past their dinner hour, and the overseers are leading them back to their hole in the eastern bowl in relatively small groups to avoid interrupting the party. Taikrin is in the second of such groups, hanging towards the back of her handful of convicts. None of them seem to be moving very quickly, much to the chagrin of the supervisor: to a man, they are eyeing the party -- and, in particular, the apparent supply of alcohol -- with no small amount of envy. "Eh, great. Lookit them, livin' it up," Taikrin mutters to the short convict walking just in front of her. "Ain't it nice."
Saliqa bounces quite easily to latch with big bright eyes onto what the Weyrwoman's saying, in turn. "Then I suppose we'll have to give them their /own/ party!" Now it's good job, Tiriana! But the other one is talking now. It's a trip, attempting to balance the Weyr leadership, apparently, because, pulling back, the Crom girl only stares K'del down in a bland sort of uncomprehending way. Her nodding has continued absently, but she forces herself to stop. Then, the little noise of her clearing her throat politely. "I'm sorry, sir. It's quite noisy out here, I'm afraid I didn't really hear you. The eggs? I saw them.. they're quite nice... but I was saying..." Hand-wave at Tiriana. Support!
"/What/," says Tiriana, squawking out just that word as K'del spits his question out. And Z'yi, too, so Tiriana, trying to keep up with it all, swings her head around that way and looks suddenly desperate. "Not /them/," she says in the end, lower lip quivering. "She's my--and she--" The most she can do is flap a hand vaguely at Teris, and then Saliqa, desperately. Gustav? Who cares about him when her protege and her fashion advisor are getting stolen from right underneath her nose.
"Ale, definitely," Gabe opines. "I mean, wine is for really sophisticated people. Most dragons are just... more ale types, you know? At least all the dragons /I've/ know. Except maybe mom's. Her green might be more of a wine type of dragon."
"It... is," agrees Rorkes, delicately, with a pointed look to Warucori. There's a kid in the room! "I'm not quite sure what to make of that," he adds, though, on the end. "Have you met Cori here? She's new, I do believe. And no, no, they won't eat you, however big their teeth are. Though sometimes they like to act meaner than they are, but." A shrug. To Inviere, "How are you doing, then? No more... bad nights like that one?"
K'del ignores - blatantly ignores - Tiriana's response so that he can explain to Saliqa, "No, no-- he wants you to /stand/ for them. He wants you to be a /Candidate/." And if that wasn't enough? A glance back at the hatching grounds, where, presumably, Cadejoth is egging him on, results in the Weyrleader catching sight of the convicts. "Oh! Someone stop them... We really should let /some/ of them stay. It's a party for everyone!" Make him stop.
"I'm not going to smell you!" Teris, the easily agitated, might swing at Gustav if she were more that sort. Never mind any smacking of little boys earlier. But whatever else she might have possibly said or been thinking, she's left staring blankly at the bluerider in the end. "Excuse me? If this is you trying to get me to sleep with you, first, it won't work, second, you do realize that that's generally frowned upon, right?"
Silarra grins over to Gabe. "True. Though maybe some of them would be into the harder stuff as well. But I bet it would take a /ton/ of rum to keep a dragon happy." And apparently this is something that really needs consideration.
Warucori gives Inviere a downright puzzled look at her comment about the harper, glancing at him before perking up and politely interjects, "he would swollow more if he could get some wine I bet. But people seem to be cutting in." At the dragon-bellow she startles again, no outburst this time thankfully but she puts a hand to her chest. "My word..." A warm smile returns for Inviere and she offers out her hand when she gets introduced. "so pleased to meet you. Oh yes, I'm new...I guess hiding it is out of the question." The understatement and the obvious exchange between the two lost on the distracted young woman. "So good that they don't eat people...just roar and snort on people."
"Yeah, body weight is a big factor in alcohol absorption," Gabe says in his most lecture-y healer voice. "So, it would take a lot to get a dragon drunk, unless they metabolize it drastically differently than humans do."
Even if Tiriana doesn't care about him (now), Gustav will still have sex with her at a later date if ever given even the smallest (tiniest, microscopic) hint of opportunity. She never has to fear! He on the other hand has plenty of fears. And one of those is kind of coming true in the form of a dragon wrapping his tail around him. Laughing, "Oh, this is perfect. You can say yes and I can pick a cot right next yours. Then you'll smell me all the time. Though I probably won't be as clean later." He's got his limits though and steps forward and hopefully out of the circle of the blue's tail. Just a little too close. More seriously to Z'yi, "I'll do it. Why not? Right?" There's a roll of his shoulders to Teris. "Don't be jerk, beautiful. Just say yes."
"No more bad nights like /that/ one," Inviere confirms obliquely. "This one isn't turning out to be one of my best, either. I'm used to parties being, oh... what's the word..." Her hand makes circles in the air, searching. "Oh yeah. Fun." She looks sideways at the cluster of Weyrleaders and Saliqa and everyone, and open resentment turns to bafflement as she tries to decipher their shocked expressions from afar. Then Warucori, all doe-eyed and hopeful -- how sad -- makes another bid for her attention. "The snorting seems... new." Grey eyes, questioning, go to Rorkes for this. Thoughts?
Impatient, "Teris, I'm not kidding, here," Z'yi shows an otherwise implacable expression, eyebrows lifted. "I mean, I understand if you're too scared about it all, but don't try to blame my int--" His gaze turns about, to Gustav. "See? Even the ki-- Gustav," he ammends himself, "--knows I'm serious. I don't have a knot on me, or I'd give you one, but I can take you back to--" A gestured jerk of the thumb over a shoulder. The living caverns, the candidate barracks, somewhere like that. Isforaith, meanwhile, looks pleased as punch, lowering his head to smell more deliberately at Teris' hair. Who can say no to /that/?
Though the convict-herd is too far away to hear K'del, though most /certainly/ can hear Isforaith. The supervisor himself slows, eyeing the blue cautiously as he does so. "What's he doin' in there, anyways?" Taikrin is just as wary as the others, just louder about it: her voice is slightly shrill with nervousness. "Is he drunk, d'you think? Can they /do/ that?"
"Stand..." Saliqa repeats in that careful way of someone taking dictation. Her only move to attempt to get her hands folded at her chest is unconsciously aborted when her mind goes to juggling other things. "Which would mean... /not/ going home to Crom come time... I just--" Piggybacking on his gaze, she finds the pack of convicts, heralding the return of her pensive finger-tapping. But how to get back on track now! There's an overly polite but somehow still thin smile as she leans slightly in to K'del, "Is it proper, when the Weyrwoman seems to object?"
She might not be wearing quite her heavy boots, but Tiriana's shoe still comes down hard on K'del's foot when he starts flagging the convicts. "Shut the hell up," she hisses at him, not remotely ladylike; not even glowing like she was when she first arrived to the party. "They're /convicts/. It's my party. You're going to ruin my party." She is, apparently, willing to sacrifice Saliqa now, just as long as it means she doesn't have to entertain criminals. See the wobbly lip? "Oh, fine, go on," she huffs at the latter Crommy. "You might as well."
"Good to hear," but Rorkes sounds rather distracted now, watching Isforaith again, or perhaps more the two would-be candidates the blue has cornered. "I believe the searchriders are already out," he answers Inviere, cutting his eyes back to her for a moment, and then including Warucori in the explanation. "They're always so impatient to get started; I'm surprised sometimes the barracks aren't full already by the time we even get eggs."
Silarra looks over to the dragon then back to Gabe with a grin. "Whatever you say, healer-man." She teases for the lecture type tone to his voice. "But that means that with my not-so-gigantic size, I should be able to go really enjoy a drink. I think there's some ale that needs to have /my/ name on it. Not a dragons'."
Gabrion apparently has reached the end of what he has to say about dragons and alcohol. "Yeah. Uh - I'm gonna duck inside for a little bit, but I'll probably come back later. Have fun, okay?" He grins at Silarra, and then heads caverns-ward.
K'del's response to Saliqa is aborted unceremoniously as Tiriana's shoe comes down on his foot. He /is/ wearing boots, which spares him part of the impact-- but not enough that he doesn't let out a little yelp. "Don't be silly," he tells the Weyrwoman, regardless, putting Saliqa on hold for a moment more. "It'd be a nice gesture... just a few of them. /Good/ ones. Hey--" He's waving over a rider standing nearby. "Go tell them. A couple of good ones. With a guard. And-- yes, come on, Saliqa, say yes. Surely Lord Crom wouldn't mind /too/ much." Meanwhile, his rider-messenger is waved away, not waiting for Tiriana's reaction, and heads straight for the convoy of convicts to deliver the message.
Warucori gapes at Inviere, "what's wrong with tonight?" She asks, deftly inserting herself back into Inviere's conversation with a brilliant smile and wide-eyed question. "There's going to be dancing I'll bet. I don't think that your lack of dress should keep you from enjoying a good song and dance. " The line moves suddenly as a cluster of girls who were letting boys in ahead of them suddenly get their food and drink. This causes the girl to miss, or ignore the fact that Inviere isn't warming to her. "Searching?" Curiously she looks back towards the blue dragon and what's going on. "That is how they do it?" She sounds a touch disaproving. "uumm...wow."
"I'm not scared," Teris is quick, very quick, to point out, glancing between both men as she stands up that little bit straighter. Her gaze focuses on Gustav and it's possible he's not doing anything positive for what she's thinking about this. When her blue eyes shift back to Z'yi, she looks almost earnest and petulant. But finally, composure mostly restored, "I'll have to talk to the Weyrwoman."
"Searchriders," Inviere repeats, vaguely. She casts an appraising look to Z'yi. "I always thought they'd be more... elegant. That one," she says, tilting her narrow chin Isforaith's way, "apparently has odd dreams about whiskey. -- My lack of dress?" This latter, for Warucori, is at first incredulous. "What's wrong with my... oh, who am I kidding." She appears to examine the inside of her own skull. And then she drains her glass.
The yelp also gets Saliqa to jump, along with her eyebrows, and her confused expression seems to get surprised away for something less approving of the behavior. Yet somehow amused. Or perhaps she's reacting to the way she rudely points a finger up and goes "Ah, ah!" in support of what's being said. "Yes, good ones, see!" The finger drops like a rock in water, "Oh, well... yes, I suppose it'd be goodwill, it's just-- alright," and this time she cordons herself and K'del off slightly with an arm out plaintively between him and Tiriana. "Alright. You want this-- or Cadejoth, or whomever-- and I want to be able to give the convicts, them on good behavior lists, a night of enjoyment. Trade?" Because that's how this works, right? Of course right.
"Ah, no that's alright. I know where the barracks are. I'll just move in." Like he probably does everywhere else. Just appear and put his clothes someplace. Move in. "But thank you." Now out of the reach of the blue dragon touching him, he seems to be relaxing again without even a shred of nerves. Poof. "And what? Let her make your decision for you? She secretely your mom or something?"
The supervisor only seems to notice the rider when the man is nearly upon him. He lets out a rather undignified squawk, and immediately begins making excuses: "Just now moving them along, really, /so/ sorry to be a bother--" Once the rider finally manages a word in edgewise, however, he pales. "You want them to /what/?" The convicts, obviously overhearing, seem equally surprised; but not for long. Two quickly begin to loudly comment on the readily-available 'goods'... and are quickly shoo'ed back towards the living cavern. "/Good/ ones?!" The supervisor is obviously at a loss. "But they're all /criminals/!" Still, an order is an order. His finger stabs out, pointing first at Taikrin, then the shorter inmate beside her. "You two! If I hear so much as /one/ peep..." Grumbling under his breath, he ushers the other four inmates back inside, promising over his shoulder, "I'll send a few more out." Or... is that a threat?
"Elegant?" The very idea makes Rorkes blink in surprise, his brows furrowing all up as he tries to level that idea with the Weyr. "Are you sure you should be--" He makes a motion to indicate her drinking, adds, "I don't know that I would be able to walk you home again, after all; I'm about to have to go on stage and I'll be there late. But there will be dancing, at least," and, well. It won't matter what you're wearing, really."
"Then you're good. Go report to Milani, then," Z'yi absently states to Gustav, with a distracted wave of the hand. "Tomorrow morning," amended after a minute. "I doubt she wants to see you tonight." Then a brief smile, as if brought to his senses suddenly, and a, "Good luck," to Gustav. "Well, go talk to her, then," to Teris, and he scouts out the weyrwoman with a pointing finger-- "She's that way." An eyebrow lifts, expectantly, as if in challenge. Isforaith doesn't necessarily want to let either of them go, but reluctantly removes himself a pace or two, periously close to tipping over a table.
Inviere narrows her eyes. "You know what I'm talking about," she insists to Rorkes. "All those delightful little fictions your people sing us in our cribs. 'We'll Search out the riders who will love and endure,' that business. You KNOW, Harper." She tightens her grip on her glass -- and licks her lips, mastering herself. For the moment. Ahem. "...I don't think I'll be needing your services this evening, thank you." Errr. "Your ESCORT services, I mean." No, wait.
Warucori mmms and nods her head in agreement to Inviere's opinion of the searching but cuts a quick look towards the dragonriders. "I'm sure they are doing their best though." She takes a step towards the serving table, "I only mean that you are not wearing a dress. You look fine though, I didn't mean to offend you." That said, she grabs up a little cake, "look how cute!" And scoots to one side after snatching up a second one.
Silarra strides off towards the serving tables, angling towards the one with the drinks. It takes a bit of time in line before she has her ale. And then, well, food is good to mix with alcohol. She gazes over to Warucori with a blink. "Food is cute? Like when it's still alive and snorting around?"
There's a long moment where Rorkes just looks at Inviere and doesn't say anything. Finally, "I'm married," he gets out, as thuogh that's going to protect him from any untoward rumors and accusations. "And I should probably--go. Take my turn. Right." As much as Warucori finds distraction in the refreshments, he's edging toward the harper's makeshift stage.
There are convicts joining her party. Tiriana just eyes the approaching ones for a long moment, and then shoots K'del, and Saliqa by extension, her snakiest look. "I," she announces, "am going to get another drink." And she turns and heads that way quickly, for the safety of more liquor. "You two do--whatever you like."
K'del, with brows raised, listens to Saliqa's response otherwise impassively. Whether he thinks he's agreeing to a second night of merriment for 'good' convicts, or just to allowing a couple of them to join tonight, is less clear, but he does, nonetheless, agree, magnanimously: "All right. Done deal." Tiriana? Lalalalala. Except; "Enjoy yourself." Big smile. Meanwhile, the rider, having delivered his message, backs away rather rapidly from the convicts. They may have been invited, but...
Inviere stares at Rorkes, defeated. "Fine," she says at last. "Have it your way." She thrusts her empty glass at him, like an irrefutable argument, and turns to leave.
Teris glares properly at Gustav, daggers and all, then at Isforaith and finally Z'yi again, though he at least gets a slightly softer glare. "Fine," she tells the bluerider and then she's walking off toward Tiriana, downing the rest of her wine along the way. At least she doesn't toss the glass to the ground or anything. She'll probably need it again. "Weyrwoman," she speaks up as she nears the goldrider.
Warucori turns a bright smile at Silarra and holds up the little citron cake with a jelly-bean stuck in the golden icing. "It's a little egg in the sand. Isn't it clever? And cute." She sniffs it, "And yummy smelling too." There's a squee there, building, but she's not quite comfortable enough to let it out. "Steaks are not cute. But taste very good. Especially the roasted ones they served up a few nights ago." It dawns on her that the harper and Inviere have left without saying goodbye and she frowns in thought, looking for them and seeing them both leaving in different directions. "My gosh."
Taikrin steers cautiously towards the serving tables, the other convict at her side. Her entire frame is wound up tight, dark gaze moving ceaselessly over the gathered crowd. "What d'you think the deal is, Ganner?" The other inmate moves just as warily, his shoulders tight enough that his shrug appears as more of a twitch. "Dunno." Taikrin pauses in a mysteriously opened hole in the crowd, still a couple of paces from the food. And the liquor. Especially the liquor. "Think this is some kinda joke? Like, someone's gonna start throwin' stuff at us or somethin'?" Her gaze continues to jerk this way and that, as expecting of violence as a cat in a kennel.
"What," says Tiriana, not even turning it into a question. She steels her shoulders, takes a deep breath, and makes sure she has liquor in hand before she turns to face Teris. "It's already ruined. /He/--" she gestures at K'del, eyes his pair of convicts long and hard "--invited /them/. So what do you want?"
Z'yi maneuvers closer, but not too close, obviously torn between wanting to overhear the Teriana conversation and not get entrapped into it, himself. Then he realizes that Isforaith's still in the middle of the crowd, and turns to eye his lifemate expectantly. The blue, meanwhile, turns to look longingly towards a pretty brown-haired girl, and Z'yi's, "Oh /hell/ no," can be heard from quite a bit away. "We're leaving." Raith turns, with no little amount of dejection, to grumble his way out of the crowd.
Silarra eyes the little citron cake thing with a wrinkled nose. "So they want us to imagine we're eating miniature dragon eggs for dessert?" Silarra questions. "Smelling good? Now that's something I'd expect is a good thing for food." And so she'll reach out and grab one, poking at the little egg shape.
"Oh, lovely!" is declared by Saliqa with a little clap of her hands before the entirety of the situation has really dawned. She's mighty proud of herself, if those distinctly crossed arms can speak of moods. "That just leaves telling the harpers," she hums this a bit low to herself before a stray glance at K'del reminds her of the company. There's a bit of those stiff shoulders returning, but she's otherwise got a more companionable look for the young Weyrleader than previous days. "You've made her all upset you know. Probably at me. Now I'll have to make another pair of earrings."
It's only now, with Tiriana gone, and Saliqa saying what she is, that K'del starts to look a little wary. As though he's just realising what he agreed to. As though... Well, whatever it is, he gives her a blank-ish kind of nod for the first couple of her remarks, followed by, a few moments later, "Oh, she's always upset, don't worry about it. She'll calm down. Reckon I ought to go talk to the convicts? They look... kind of lost." Beat. "Oh, and I guess you'll have to move into the barracks, and stuff. I... don't really know how this all works. Never had to do it before."
Warucori pulls the purple jelly-bean off the top of hers, "oh...do you think it's disrespectful? Maybe we should keep the jellybeans instead? The cake is harmless though--just 'sand' afterall. Or, you know what I mean." This said, she happily eats the first little cake. Her eyes trail past Silarra and she watches the newcomers to the table as she chews, balacing the other cake in her free hand.
"He invited who?" Teris has been distracted but she looks toward K'del briefly and murmurs a quieter, "Oh." Beat. "I suppose it can wait. It's nothing important. Just, that dragon," she gestures vaguely toward the large blue lump that's rather difficult to miss, "He thinks-- Well. I wanted to speak with you first. There's a lot of work to be done and--" Take a picture. Teris being obviously awkward, even to this small extent, isn't something that happens every day.
Inviere rearranges her sleeved arms in the pockets of her coat. She doesn't resume the hunched, misanthropic posture she brought to the party -- no, she strides off towards the Weyr's innards with her back in a rigid line, maybe a little too ridiculous to be effectively imperious. Still, she pauses by K'del, now that Tiriana's quit orbiting him, and offers a terse, "Congratulations." She focuses on his face and, even if she can't catch his eye, adds darkly: "Consider a party planner." And then she stalks off for once and all.
This, of course, only makes Tiriana look more crestfallen, and with things having been a little weird since their fight anyway--. She shrugs. "It's up to you. Whatever," she says, less breezily than she'd perhaps like. "Not like... you couldn't come back to work, afterward. When the hatching's over." Another shrug, like she doesn't know quite what else to say to this idea. She does look distinctly uncomfortable herself, though.
"The barracks?" It's Saliqa's turn to give a nod she doesn't necessarily mean, a bobbing gesture for pure show. Nervously, her lower lip rolls in to get chomped at by her teeth and she sucks insistently at this for a time before, eyes downcast, she can voice, "Now, I don't aim to be rude, but... seeing as how you brought up never having done this before, is there a chance you... well, is there a chance you -- umm, misinterpreted, sir?" It's 'made a mistake' without saying 'made a mistake'. Conveniently, Inviere's passing by creates a distraction through which Saliqa finds a transition to wave her hand at the convicts. "Did you-- I mean, would company help?"
Silarra looks over to Warucori for a second before she shrugs. "I doubt they'd feed it too us if it was disrespectful. I just think it's, well, odd." She decides. But then the young woman takes a big bite of hers, downing the jellybean as part of it. The stablehand pauses to chew a bit before Silarra adds. "Well, it's tastey enough, if way too cutesy."
Taikrin edges closer to the table, now studying the contents with as much focus as she had previously eyed her surroundings. "Don't suppose they'd do nothing weird to 'em, not with the girls eating." Warucori and Silarra are gifted with a flat, emotionless stare. "Must be safe." Ganner half-turns, obviously watching Taikrin's back, and grunts an affirmative. "I'll just--" Taikrin's hand darts out, as swift and precise as if she was picking the cakes out of a pocket rather than off a platter, and hands one off to her companion. A big bite, then: "Humph." Mouth half-full of cake, she adds: "Ain't so bad."
"No." K'del's pretty firm about this, though the trace of a smile lingers on his expression in the wake of it. "Cadejoth's pretty definite, and apparently, so was Isforaith. Or... maybe it was just Isforaith, and Cadejoth-- dunno." And doesn't matter. It's only belatedly that he turns to glance after Inviere, frowning vaguely, though there's a nod there, too. "If you like?" he adds, returning his attention to Saliqa. "Come on. I think they ventured towards the food tables."
You paged K'del with 'Is one of those not supposed to be Isforaith, or am I failing at reading?'.
Warucori had removed the purple jellybean before munching the cake, as eveident between her fingers. She grins at Silarra and once she's finished with her mouthful she notes, "I don't think it would keep well anyway, all sugar and what-not." She shrugs at it being too cutesy, "There are klah-cakes too, or maybe spice, they don't look as decorated." Not that she's going for more, still holding onto her second citron pastry. "I'm Cori by the way...Warucori." The flat statres from Taikrin and company get a warm smile of greeting, though a little puzzled over them.
Teris frowns and though she didn't really seem all that terribly excited, per se, Tiriana's response to it all deflates her somewhat. "I... Well, perhaps it would be best to think about it for a few days, hmm? It's not as though the eggs are going anywhere. And I could decline. I don't want to inconvenience you, Tiriana." Which is actually rather sincere. That and she's a bit of a workaholic. Maybe even a little bit that being a candidate is more or less a demotion.
Screeeeech! Isforaith was leaving, you see, until he had the misfortune of overhearing this little exchange between Teris and Tiriana, and now he's making to storm over there-- and he would! He would, indeed, except for Z'yi's pretty much dragging him off. "If she's /too scared/," maybe loud enough for Teris to overhear, "We can only ask." And he's really dragging Raith away, this time, leaving the pair to decide Teris' fate.
"Yeah." This is not particularly enthusiastic, either, though, as Tiriana just watches Teris a long moment. "Think on it, if you want. No hurry, your decision, all that. --I should go; there's still a lot of people waiting to, you know. Congratulate me." It is apaprently the best excuse she can come up with for getting out of one very awkward conversation. That, and guzzling down her drink.
Silarra looks over to Taikrin and the other convict for a moment. Her expression is even. Hey, at least they don't rate the glare Inviere got. And then she's looking back to Warucori again. "Or maybe I should eat all of these to spare anyone else from seeing the cutesi-ness." But she's not reaching out for another, drinking from her ale instead before she nods. "Cori. Good to meet you. I'm Silarra. You been around here long? I'm far from knowing half the weyr yet."
If there's a worried, lingering glance towards where her fellow Cromites are talking, obliviously, Saliqa reins it in quickly enough. "Isfe.. Isforaith and Cadejoth. And Io... vniath is the queen-mother." Knowing this seems to satisfy something in the girl. Raising her chin to display a bit of poise again, she tips her head to acknowledge his direction. But first, a small 'ahem ahem', and she's holding out her hand in vague expectancy; she's just short of reaching for his arm, because the man offers first. She's definitely just holding her hand aimlessly. That's all.
Taikrin stuffs the second half of her egg-cake into her mouth, leaving crumb-laiden wreckage down her chin and on her shirt that a half-hearted brush with her hand does little to dislodge. "Ain't nobody come fussing yet," is the cautiously optimistic observation. Taikrin and Ganner meet gazes silently for a moment, then nod. Assuming a somewhat frightening smile, Taikrin closes the few paces that remain between her and the girls. The other inmate remains still, very much playing the sentry to her scout. "Fine party, girls! Fine party! Having a good time, eh?"
Warucori gives a small shake of her head as she nibbles a corner of the cake, "only been here a couple sevendays so far. How about you?" She looks very pleased as Taikrin comes up, and why not? MOre people to meet right? "Hello there. It's a very nice party. Good food and there's music." SHe lets out a soft sigh, "we never have such finery at home."
Teris gives her head a small nod, catching her lower lip briefly before she manages her own, "Congratulations, Weyrwoman." She doesn't try to keep the other woman from leaving, but she does look a little upset as she turns toward the drink table after glancing briefly in Z'yi's direction. "I'm not afraid," she tells the person nearest her after that but as soon as she has a full glass against, she's heading away from this shindig.
K'del's expression is approving, if distinctly amused. "That's right," he tells Saliqa, warmly. "You'll get the hang of it all in no time, promise." The way she holds her arm makes him frown for a moment, before, after a few very heavy beats, he seems to get the point, and offers her his arm. After that, it's straight off towards Taikrin and her companion near the food tables, smile back in force.
"Can you not even /try/ to look respectable?" says Tiriana in exasperation as she steps away from Teris and happens to encounter Taikrin, Warucori, and Silarra next. It's the convict among them that earns the hardest look from the goldrider, and she even sighs to complete the look. Teris is forgotten--or pushed to the back of her mind--surprisingly quickly, as the Weyrwoman resigns herself to this latest incursion on her party. "Faranth."
Silarra looks over towards the inmate and rolls her eyes. "There's food and alcohol. And music. What's not to like?" And her tone isn't quite sincere on that. She turns back to the other girl. "So pretty new. I've been here since the end of the summer. Nice to stay in one place so long."
"Yes, I will," Saliqa responds, not haughty but full of determination. She shakes herself off as to dispel a bad feeling while K'del figures his manners out and then, eyes gleaming with her own private amusement, she slips her arm in his the way a proper lady does. "One day you too." That delivered, they're off to the food table where, it seems, the congregation has already grown. "Greetings, everyone, hello!" She pipes up, more like a hostess than a guest, herself. But not a second after, Taikrin is, in fact, recognized with a quick snorted breath and a narrowing of eyes.
Warucori nods her head to Silarra, "You move around a lot? That must be nice." Her words drift off as she follows the look to Taikrin noting the tone and the looks and the dress of the woman and her companion. She gives them a much longer looks this time but before all the details can pile up to a grand sum she's distracted by the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader's arrival. She manages not to drop her cake and curtsy in a reasonable manner. "Congratulations. The party is wonderful."
"I'm with you, girls! What ain't to like!" Taikrin gives a quick bark of obviously forced laughter. "Ain't seen folks having a good time like this in almost two turns, now." Not so many parties in the depths of the mines. The false merriment in her voice matches the grin on her face for awkward discomfort. "So nice to be able to-- to be able to pay our respects to the Weyrwoman!" Taikrin's voice rises a quarter octave at Tiriana's approach. "So kind of you to invite us, Weyrwoman! Me and Ganner, here, we ain't seen such generosity." Either oblivious to the look or outright ignoring it, Taikrin babbles on in a voice turned ingratiating. "Hope there was lots of fine eggs, and, err..." Trailing off, her gaze darts nervously once more, this time ending on Saliqa and K'del. Eyes narrow marginally, though only for the briefest second before nervousness begins to disintegrate into outright panic. "Ah, well, maybe we should just be going now, uh..."
"Oh, Faranth," grumbles Tiriana, with a dark look for K'del when he approaches. "This is their idea of the well-behaved ones?" She just shakes her head, sighs again, and then turns, without so much as a by-your-leave as she makes her exit again.
K'del doesn't register - or, at least, doesn't /react/ to - Saliqa's remark, breezily silent until they've joined the little group. If Tiriana's presence bothers him even at all, he doesn't say or show as much; instead, he focuses his high-wattage smile on the convicts, looking ever so pleased. It dims rather immediately in the wake of Taikrin's reaction... he looks genuinely disappointed. "No! Please. Don't go. Invited you, didn't we? Think it's really good that you could join us... really!" He sounds almost rather desperate. In the wake of that, perhaps it's no wonder that he barely manages to register everyone else, giving little more than a vague nod to the group.
Saliqa's laced in with the Weyrleader and she doesn't seem to display any intentions to let him go -- though this may be more out of distraction than attraction. What's left of her narrow gaze has hopped from the rambling convict to Tiriana's departing form and her mouth thins out in reaction. Her free arm swinging to a relaxed place on her hip is as much of a 'shucks!' as actually letting the words escape. By the time she's turned back, more of them have left and Taikrin is burning a hole in their stay. "Really!" She chirps in, "He was right for the idea."
Taikrin freezes mid-step at K'del's exclamation, a somewhat sickly smile fixed on her face. "Ah-- yeah, sir, a'course, uh, so good of you and th'Weyrwoman, uh..." As people dash off, one after the next, Taikrin's awkwardness only seems to grow. Tiriana's departure in particular is met with a noticible paling of her face beneath its smattering of crumbs. "We, uh, really appreciate it. Uh. Hope the laying went well. Sir." A hand brushes ineffectively at the crumbs on her face again, though it does little more than attract attention to them. "Saw you even had th'dragons in, uh, partyin'. So generous of ya, sir." A few other convicts have since trickled out of the living cavern to partake of the festivities, though none seem to be having a particulary good time at it. "Sure everyone'll be talking about this fer a long time, sir."
But K'del's not so stupid as he can't see exactly how awkward this is making things, and he can't quite make his smile return to earlier wattage. "It went very well," he assures Taikrin, as warmly as he can manage. "And-- er, yes. Isforaith was rather enthusiastic. Candidate hunting already, as it turns out." He glances at Saliqa, then back towards Taikrin. "Saliqa here seems to have particular regard for you all... determined to see you get some enjoyment, she is."
Saliqa had really sort of stopped smiling altogether, but she wrangles her mouth into shape when she's referred to. It's a note that doesn't quite reach into her eyes, as they instead are occupied in investigating Taikrin's look. Briefly, she settles on the convict beside her, and it seems to be this divert that allows her to work her way around some words, "Oh yes, that I am. And it was ever so kind of you, again, sir Weyrleader, to grant me the chance to see that done." Nothing tricky about the way she says it, but there's still cautiousness about her.
"That's what he was doin'?" Taikrin sheds a bit of nervousness at this revelation. "What with all that racket? Huh. Didn't know it was so noisy. Uh, sir." Mention of Saliqa draws Tai's attention back to the other girl. The false smile makes a slow return, though with obvious effort. "I just be she is! Full of concern for us. Ain't that what I was sayin' earlier, Ganner? That Saliqa, she's just overflowing needing t'do us a good turn." There's nothing overtly threatening in her expression. Yet. "What sort of thing you have in mind, eh Salie? Don't mind if I call you Salie, do you? Feel like we're getting so close, I do."
"Uh," says K'del. "Sure. Of course." He pauses a beat, then adds to Taikrin, "Saliqa's going to be one of those candidates, in fact." It's kind of an aside: something he can add to the conversation without seeming too superfluous. And too awkward, given the turn of conversation. "It's not usually so... noisy. Isforaith's just, um, a bit enthusiastic, is all. Bit like his sire." He shed his two empty glasses at some point, and now holds his spare arm a little awkwardly.
Sweet sugary nothings melt into Saliqa's own smile in return, her head lightly tilted in what is usually feigned interest but now has more of an edge to it. "Do you? That's, well, so unfortunate. I don't have the pleasure of /your/ name. I'm sorry you were mistaken. But I'll be arranging a night off for the convicts. Food, music, cards. Low-key and non-disruptive, of course. I understand if that isn't your thing. It won't be everyone's, that's the short and unhappy of it." In way, by the time she's gotten all of her words out, she's also settled as far as bristly, defensive maneuvers go and she offers a helpless lift of her shoulders as ending. Her face tilts even more up, eyeing K'del, almost scolding for a moment: "He breathed all over everyone, is that one usual?"
Taikrin seems genuinely surprised at K'del's revelation, though her efforts to appear overtly friendly soon make the expression cartoonish. "A candidate? Really? Ain't that dangerous, a pretty girl like you? Heard sometimes the hatchling's eat 'em. Sir? That so?" Quick glance to the Weyrleader, seeking affirmation. The mention of a convict party injects a bit of true wariness back into her smile. "A night off, really? A party?" She shifts her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, apparently thrown off-balance by the unexpected offer. "Could be okay, that," she allows grudgingly. "More a dice girl, myself, though." A hand is extended, palm up, towards Saliqa with all the caution one would use when putting a hand in a tunnelsnake nest. "Uh. Taikrin."
So /that/ is what K'del agreed to... he looks momentarily thoughtful, but ultimately enlightened, but doesn't remark on it. Before he can respond to anything, though, Taikrin's remark on the dangerousness of Standing has him looking horrified-- he jumps in there, hastily declaring, "Eat them? Oh, no, not usually." Beat. "Er, I mean, no, they don't. There are... very occasional injuries, but usually because people are being stupid. No." Because that makes it sound /so/ safe. "The breathing... only sometimes. Some of them, I mean." The awkwardness seems to be getting the better of him; he glances warily between the two women, and then begins to try and draw his arm away from Saliqa. "I should mingle some more. Er-- have a good time?" This man, always running away.
It isn't hard to get away from Saliqa; she makes no efforts to glue him to the spot, but slips her arm into her own personal space as soon he starts moving. "Oh, yes. Congratulations again, sir." She's also not perfect at dismissing the discomfort and regret that drifted in at the less than reassuring spot about this Standing thing she's agreed to. So her eyebrows are yet forming a straight line above her eyes when she moves to lightly drape the edges of her fingers over Taikrin's for the tiny handshake of a lady. "Taiking," she accepts, "Then I guess that makes you my leading helper for the newly founded dice game. Does that take anything besides dice that I should be asking for?" It's all blissfully sincere as she even levels a look both curious and expectant at the other.
Taikrin withdraws her hand as if still expecting to be bitten. Both arms are folded across her chest defensively. "Your... what?" Her duly-appointed role is startling enough that the mispronounciation of her name goes entirely unnoticed. "Uh. Besides dice?" Wildly out of her element, now, she latches back onto K'del's statement with a rushed: "My ma used to tell us about a hatching she went to when she was a girl and they ate three whole candidates. Robes and all." Suddenly thoughtful, she continues. "Kinda thought that's what the sniffing was for. Checking for flavor, like." A pause, then: "Uh, sir." Mustn't forget the formalities.
"Your mother was telling you tall tales," insits K'del, fastening a meaningful glance at Taikrin, which can't really do much to dismiss the story. Again. He gives the two girls once more long glance, takes a breath, and then turns to move back through the crowd, leaving them to each other. There are other, less awkward, conversations to be had.
It's obvious Saliqa's nose is scrunching up further and further at this growing image of death by dragon swallowing and her own hands draw to her chest where she rubs at her arms self-consciously. "... Yes, besides dice," she carries on nobly once the Weyrleader's wandered off, "I'm saying that if having a dice game will make you happy for this rest day, then I'd like to make sure you have what you need for it. I've seen others play cards, but never dice, so you're clearly more capable as to making sure it's done right."
Taikrin's expression remains one of disbelief, though she doesn't press the point any further with K'del. Seconds after her disappears, she mutters, "My ma swears she saw it..." Shaking her head, she returns her attention to Saliqa; if Taikrin's aware of how uncomfortable the discussion is making the other girl, she doesn't show it. "Well, I do like dice." She shifts her weight again, awkwardly. "Dice're a proper betting game. Not so formal like cards. Faster, too." Her voice turns slightly wistful, of all things-- a difficult note to pick out over her normally gruff tones. "Ain't got nothin' to bet with, though. Dice needs betting. Half the fun, that is."
"They had the women leave the room for dice at home," Saliqa speaks thoughtfully in turn, without any of that previous haughtiness rising; she's only honestly reminiscing. "I always imagined it was because they'd get to swearing. Something to bet with, though, yes, that's a bit trickier." Breaking the comfort they were giving her arms, her hands part. One of them darts to her mouth where she indulges in a bit of nibbling on her nail. As soon as she catches the habit, she pulls the hand away and gives it a right shake. "I suppose I'll have to think of something... a special dessert from the cooks-- it isn't going to be what you're used to, of course. I can't support old habits altogether."
Taikrin laughs, but it's an honest sound lacking in the biting mockery she usually indulges with. "Well, it ain't a proper women's game, that's for sure. Swearing, heh. That ain't near the worst of it." Head is shaken bemusedly; though her gaze is not exactly trusting, a good deal of the wariness has seeped out of her posture. "Good quarter of the best dice games end in a good tussle." A pause, then she's quick to reassure: "Suppose that ain't likely t'happen here, though. No marks on the line, and all. 'Sides, this lot's pretty tame." If these convicts are Tai's definition of /tame/... "Dunno what, but it's gotta be somethin' small, like, so we can throw it into the pot. Easy to carry."
Saliqa's eyes widen to their full extent at the sound of the laugh but, when she blinks herself back to normality it's to a pleasant stare. That is, when she isn't bringing her palms up warily in front of her and turning her head to each side speedily-- it's the furtive gesture-child of a headshake and a glance around to check for eavesdroppers. "Ohhh, yes-- no! A tussle would be, not to mention most inappropriate, a very, very bad idea. Convince 'em all right away I wrong to suggest the evening at all. Say... how'd you feel if I asked you the favor of seeing how the other convicts take the idea? I'd like to know if I'd have a riot on my hands or if things would be amenable. Since I butted my way into the work line that one day, a few of 'em look at me rather funny... I think they'd much prefer to hear things from you."
Taikrin's hands come up defensively, as if to ward off this sudden responsiblity. "/Me/? I ain't a planner! All I know is crackin' rocks and not getting my /own/ head cracked. But..." As the idea penetrates, however, she seems to warm to it: a somewhat sly smile slowly curves her thin lips. "Maybe I could say somethin' to a few guys, see if we can't stop that riot of yours. S'pose it could be worth my time. 'Specially if we got stuff even close to good as this." A hand is waved in the general direction of the dessert-and-drink area. "Maybe you might--" Whatever she might have said, however, is broken off with an oath as Ganner, still on watch duty, taps her roughly on the shoulder. "Time's up," is his warning. Sure enough, overseers are making their way through the thinning crowd and rounding up their charges once more. Now that the Weyrleader is gone, apparently it's time to re-establish control. "Gotta run, Saliqa." The full name is given without a bit of mockery. "Dinnertime tomorrow, I'll let you know. Look for me."
Above Saliqa's eye twitches a bit as the oath happens, but the rest of her is bright and eager as far as relations with the convicts go. "Oh, yes, here they go," she observes of the overseers, who are given a low-brow skeptical eye even from her. "Alright, then, dinnertime it is. And thank you, a little bit of help goes a long way. This is a good step for you, too." Far from the preachy she might have started out with, the sentence ends up actually sounding rather sly, itself -- a merchant's side of things. She even adds, "One good turn deserves another," with a bit of an upturned smile and then she's backing off to let the overseers do what they do. For her, it's time to retire inside; apparently, she's got a barracks to move into.