[Log] Crime and Punishment, Pt. 1
Who: Aida, Br'ce, E'sere, Essdara, Ginella, Issa, J'cor, Jolasek, Kianda, Medina, Tavaly, T'ral, T'zen, Yevide
When: Day 16, Month 3, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Where: Southern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
What: After the illicit Nabol 'Fall, the riders return to face the music.
Notes: Find Pt. 2 here.
Southern Bowl
The bowl floor is a broad expanse of gravel and dust, packed flat over decades of dragonweight landing on it. Kept free of vegetation, the only color variation across the vast hollow of the bowl are the dragons, in good weather often found sunning on low ledges or sprawled along the floor itself. The well-worn, charcoal-grey walls of the bowl are nearly vertical, far too steep for even the most adventurous climber to attempt. The rim of the bowl, marked by a rainbow of perching dragons at all times of the day, is topped with massive stone spires that stretch upwards into the blue vault of the sky. There are seven in all, great black fingers of stone that seem, from where you stand, to touch the clouds.
Here the lake dominates the bowl floor, wind-scattered waves lapping at the gravel shore. A few scrawny shrubs to the southeast mark the fenced-in enclosure of the feeding grounds, bordered on its southwestern edge by the lake itself. Following the wall here will lead to the entrance to the weyrling complex and, past that, the stairs that lead to the guest weyr. On the other side of the lake is a vast, yawning tunnel curving upwards slightly, connecting to the long road leading away from High Reaches Weyr. Adjoining the exit is the high arch of the infirmary entrance.
It's a windy day, the gusts and breezes chilly with humidity. Though the air is still filled with the promising scents of spring, the low temperatures and constant assault by capricious winds will keep many indoors.
Obvious Exits:
Caucus Barracks (CB) Dragon Barracks (DB) Northern Bowl (NB)
Infirmary (INF) Guest Weyr (GW) Weyrling Complex (WC)
The 'Fall isn't a particular challenging one, especially by recent days' standards--in fact, it goes surprisingly well, considering the numbers of the defenders. Injuries are few and, for the most part, minor, the blueriding dragonhealer J'tral on hand to tend to everyone. When the makeshift wing finally returns to High Reaches, there are already a few gawkers standing ready to watch for their return, whispering and staring in the meanwhile as word has finally gotten around the lower caverns. At the head of the group of riders is E'sere, his Morelenth heading to a landing in the midst of the bowl. The bronzerider begins unstrapping himself at once, moving to stand proudly by his dragon's side as the rest of the wing comes in.
A largish brown swoops in with finicky precision next, alighting with graceful exhaustion. Br'ce heaves a long sigh, patting Trellazoth's neck and murmuring a few words. Despite the success of the Fall, the expression on his face is primarily one of fuming cold anger, the cords in his neck standing visibly out. He slides off his dragon, letting one hand rest against the brown's flank while the other one clenches and unclenches rhythmically.
Essdara is there amongst the gawkers, leaning on the cruth she is forced to use. She watches in silent worry as the wing returns, her eyes scanning across it for specific riders, her friends and family. As Br'ce's dragon lands, she nods softly to herself; one down.
"Whoooo!" comes the yell of one of the riders, T'zen on Uneth, just after the blue dragon winks out of between with the rest of the wing. The dragon trumpets his own return, but he simply circles into the bowl, too tired to do much else. A graceful landing, an arm out for his jazzed up rider, and after he dismounts, Uneth curls up for a well-deserved nap, not looking the worse for wear otherwise.
Maw open and rambling off thrilled warbles, one of the senrior greenlings lands, wings held aloft in a show of pure haughty self-approval. Down her leg Tavaly slides, all the while smirking. One hand adhering itself to the green's muscled shoulder. Immath, eyes ablaze with wild yellow, continues to purr within her throat. Excitement takes a while do die off. The green's head tilts skyward to pick out a certain blue. As Uneth lands, Tav throws up her other arm and responds to T'zen's outcry with one of her own. Yea, there's the power.
Medina watches from the door to the infirmary. Tries to maintain a professional image, but she cannot help her gaze, which switches between E'sere and J'cor incessantly. She barely raises a disapproving glare for Essdara, who should be resting.
Oshisyth sweeps downward at the tail end of the rest of the group, her landing not as smooth as usual. There's a notable Threadscore along her right hindquarter, a shallow one and already salved, but it makes for a limping landing nonetheless. But there's still a bristling smugness in the tiny green's motion. In the way she lifts her head to watch the last of the wing land, the way she half folds her wings and digs those thin talons into the ground. Issa begins unbuckling her straps, her face behind the helmet and goggles still held in the stiff expression of a warrior woman. As her gear is stripped off, as she's shaking out her plastered curls, her mouth slowly and surely begins to form a beaming smile. She then turns to T'zen nearby, just directing that winning smile over to him. Then, she dismounts without further delay.
And two. And three. Dara relaxes visibly as Tavaly and T'zen are catalouged. Medina is given a thin smirk at her disapproving glare, and quickly looked away from - To poor Oshisyth, with a soft sigh. At least it's noone she knows well.
Kianda glances toward the landing dragons briefly as she skirts the edge of the bowl, an eyebrow lifting in puzzlement. Shaking her questions out of her mind, she continues her search... Aha. A bold stride takes her toward her target, Essdara.
While Morelenth himself has suffered a few light marks of a brush with Thread himself along his nose, E'sere waves off J'tral when the bluerider comes to check on him, sending the rider to a green worse off than his dragon. Morelenth seems unbothered, E'sere as well, for the wingleader steps forward to meet one of the other riders, Br'ce first. "You flew well--Trellazoth is unhurt?" He arches a brow at the brownrider's obvious anger, only sparing a brief glance, a grin and a shake of his head, for the predictable pair of yellers.
T'zen works off his helmet, hair popping out in normal disarray, flashing a grin all around, before seeking out Tavaly. "Heey, girl. How's that for flyin', eh?" He reaches out an arm to wrap around the girl's shoulders, before scanning the rest of the bowl, noting dragons, who's hit, who's not, and finally E'sere, noting his movements. Uneth.. is already asleep.
Make no mistake - from his ledge, across the bowl, Karth has been waiting. The little curled-up bronze rises to his feet when the first few riders wink out of between, and it's only a few moments more before his rider's climbed aboard and the two are airborne, swinging down to the bowl. He wheels wide, allowing the others room to navigate, and glides in to a smooth landing in front of Morelenth, facing the other bronze. Of the two, Karth is much smaller - brown-sized, even - but he has long since given up trying to out-face other bronzes, and so he simply looks up at Morelenth with surprisingly placid eyes, blue with just occasional whirls of orange. J'cor surveys the scene from atop Karth's shoulders before, mental notations made, he unbuckles his straps and slides down.
With a flare of wings, Darageth joins those on the ground -- T'ral does a great line in square-jawed neutrality when the occasion calls for it, and just now the brownrider's usually cheerful face is immobile. The gathering crowd are ignored, and he fairly scrambles down his dragon's side to, jogging around to where a score across the brown's chest has been generously salved. Nevertheless, his rider is unsatisfied, pulling off his gloves and pushing up his goggles to take another look at the damage.
Essdara's gaze turns towards the girl coming towards her, and she offers Kianda a thin smile. "Hello. Interesting day, is it not?" She looks back towards the wing as it continues to land around them. "This is gonna lead to a whole mess of trouble. But, then, so would the other way. It's good to be in an unwinnable position." She comments dryly.
Kianda nods her agreement with Dara, her gaze a bit bleak. "I suspect it's been more interesting that I was aware." Her gaze goes to the returning riders, to Karth, and back to Essdara. "Do I want to know?"
Issa takes the time to walk along Oshisyth's right side, eyes trailing along that score with a critical eye. It's only when she's fully reassured herself that there's nothing more to be done that she turns and approaches T'zen and Tavaly, her smile returned to full force. "Here comes Igen," she mutters to them both as she enters within their earshot, obviously reveling in the situation.
Br'ce gives Trellazoth one last pat before he folds his arms across his chest, bringing his chin up and straightening his spine in an aggressively rigid parade stance, looking around at the crowd that gathers. Spotting Essdara, a brief tic jumps in one cheek--the closest he'll let himself to a wince. His eyebrows draw in an even deeper furrow as the rest of the riders arrive, whooping and cheering. Briefly, he closes his eyes in exasperation. "Young pups..." is muttered to himself. For someone who has just come back from a successful Fall, he's extremely furious, though it's unclear at what exactly. "We're both uninjured, sir." is his stout response to E'sere's inquiry. As T'ral and Darageth arrive, he allows himself to unbend for a worried check on their status.
Ginella /was/ heading up to the records room, but she was alerted to the happenings in the bowl and has hurried out, classwork and books still under one arm. It only takes a glancing-over of the crowd for her jaw to tighten into anger, and she makes her way up to the front of the growing crowd, shifting around until she's got a clear view of T'ral. He and Darageth are eyed, and the brownrider gets /such/ a Look.
Essdara nods, softly. "Yeah. You probably do. Nabol. They flew it." She sighs softly, shaking her head and looking around again, shifting her weight on the crutch with a wince as she acidentally puts weight on her foot. "Thankfully, it looks like they pulled it off... For now."
Tavaly snuggles under T'zen's arm without hesitation. If it's not obvious by now... well, the others can go between. She glances over as Issa approaches and reaches out to scoop the other greenrider closer. Igen? Hurrhurr. "Heeeere he comes to wreck the daaay." Tav mutters in a sing-song voice, the unstoppable exhilaration of a 'fall well flown surging through her veins, making her pulse go nutty.
Morelenth is, indeed, completely unphased by Karth's look, ignoring the small bronze in favor of turning to survey the other dragons, his deep, pleased rumble accompanied by a brief wince at the movement of his face. Though E'sere has certainly been informed of the presence of J'cor, he, too, ignores the man and his dragon, continuing his conversation with Br'ce. "You're sure everything's all right?" he repeats, eyeing the brownrider and his dragon a moment longer before nodding and stepping away, to check on another--this time, it's Tavaly. "Well, well, weyrling," he hails the greenrider, smirk bemused as he studies her and Immath. "And how are you? T'zen, as untouched as ever?" He glances over the bluerider as well, arching a brow.
T'ral seems to have satisfied himself that Darageth's as covered in numbweed as he can possibly be, for he straightens up, moving wearily as he pulls goggles and helmet from his head, leaving his curls standing up every which way in their wake. With a squaring of his shoulders, he begins to turn towards Br'ce -- only to catch sight of Ginella on the way. That's definitely cause for pause, and he tries out a brief, crooked grin on her, one hand coming up on a brief 'stay there' sort of gesture, before he turns away towards Br'ce.
"They did?" Kia's eyes widen, and her face floods with relief that spills into a wide smile. "Oh thank Faranth..." And then the smile fades, her gaze flicking round to the Weyrleader again, then down, as she mutters, "They shouldn't get in /trouble/ for that."
"Thread can't touch us, Wingleader." Tav responds to E'sere, making doubly sure her statement can be heard by anyone with two ears on their head. Her arm tightens around T'zen's waist a little tighter at that, her smirk appearing like lightning on the skyline.
Yevide does not arrive in her dragon's company, bucking the trend. The Weyrwoman's tunic billows in the wind as she strides across the bowl, both hands raised to tuck her curls more securely inside the gauzy blue scarf that binds them away from her face. Bright blue eyes rest on each pair in turn as she nears the group; once that survey is complete, she transfers her attention to J'cor, coming to a halt just by Karth.
Morelenth> Fleeting through the minds of the wing detachment that flew over Nabol are two twines of colors, triumphant in their deep blue and black rising through a blue velvet backdrop where silver squiggles fall. Approval graces in the split-second imagery before the mental familiarity of a Reaches queen in all Nenuith's bell-like clarity recedes back, leaving only in the wake of communication severed a lurking warmth. >>
"Should is a dangerous word, Kia." Dara says sofly. "I... Am glad everyone at Nabol is safe. Very much so. But I will be honest that I am not comfortable with what the repurcussions could be. Both for them... And for all of us."
T'zen grins at Issa as she joins their group. He turns to glance at Karth and the nearby Weyrleader. "Yes. Wonder what Weyrleader Igen's got in store for us, eh?" Purely flippant. And it's nearly that same tone he cops with E'sere as he approaches, and has to ask about his well-being. "Wingleader!" He gestures to himself, with a glance at the snoozing Uneth. "Untouched as ever." He beams as he about echoes Tavaly. For that, a kiss to her temple, quickly smacked. He nods to E'sere. "Nothing serious for you?" Woo, T'zen concern!
"Yes, we're unharmed, sir." Br'ce says through partially clenched teeth to E'sere. A moment's indecisive twitching, and he heads across the fields to where T'ral has landed. "You idiot." he announces without preamble, in a low-voiced hiss. "I /told/ you not to come. I /warned/ you. What are you going to do about /that/?!" One arm flails in the direction of Darageth's injury. "I can't believe you actually came! And now there's no way you're going to be able to hide your involvement."
Issa allows herself to be pulled into a half-hug by Tavaly, and leans, tense muscles finding a respite in the brief support. As E'sere nears, she includes him in her smiling, separating herself from the other greenrider to stand on her own. Carefully, her arms fold in front of her and she listens to the others' list of injuries- or lack thereof, thank goodness- in silence.
J'cor does not seem to hear the nicknames he's being called, only turns to watch Yevide as she comes up. Normally, the Weyrwoman's approach might be enough for a smile; today, he merely nods to her, incredibly somber. Anyone glancing his direction may see his lips move, but none of the words carry past her ears. Karth meanwhile has become a statue, the whirling of his eyes slowed so much they almost seem stopped, and there are no more traces of orange to be found there.
T'ral is swinging helmet and goggles from one hand as he moves between tired dragons to tilt his head back, conducting a quick survey of Trellazoth before he drops his gaze to Br'ce. "I think," he replies almost cheerfully, tilting his head sideways to indicate where the Weyrleaders stand together, "they're onto us, man. Dara's good, he's covered. His strap caught part of it." The big brownrider brings one hand up to try and flatten his curls, lifting his head to surreptitiously cast a glance in Ginella's direction once more. "Reckon I might be in more trouble from that direction."
Kianda keeps her own voice low, occasionally biting at her upper lip. "But the people at Nabol, it's not /their/ fault what happened. /They/ shouldn't have been made to suffer. These," a hand flickers a gesture toward the riders, "Were only doing what's right." She grimaces. "I know it's all very complicated, but..."
"So I've gathered," E'sere remarks to Tavaly and T'zen, smiling at the pair. "I'm glad to hear it. I have to say, I was a little surprised to see /you/, weyrling, but I suspect I'd have been more surprised if our T'zen really did keep his mouth shut tight," he remarks easily, nodding toward the bluerider. On the subject of the Weyrleader, he only shrugs idly, not seeming very concerned by the issue. Instead, he lifts a hand toward Issa, hailing the other greenrider.
Ginella is... well, some might call it stewing. Simmering. Smoldering. Something along those lines. Whatever you want to call it, it doesn't change when T'ral tries a grin on for her. If anything, she looks even more tense with anger. Tavaly's loud pronouncement draws her attention for a moment, and she looks at the greenrider almost with disgust before turning her attention back to... Br'ce waving an arm at T'ral, clearly not happy. Arms cross to hold books tightly against her chest, and she shifts to look at Kianda behind her. She starts to say something, and turns away to glare stiffly at T'ral some more. He is /definitely/ in trouble from this direction, too.
Essdara's mouth closes in a thin, hard line for a long moment. "The world is never so nice as to make things black and white, Kianda. But this isn't the place for me to explain my fears to you." She glances around at the crowd, "I'm not much in favour of being lynched, even if I am glad the Fall was Flown."
"Oh, freeze up, Br'ce, T'ral's a big boy and can handle himself." Tav calls over, still smirking. E'sere receives one of Tava's reserved wicked-grins. "He's not to be blamed, sir. I got 'im good and drunk and wheedled it out of him. He did have a fairly strong resolve, though. You'd be proud."
Yevide tilts her head in to listen to the Weyrleader's murmur, blue eyes coming up to his face in the wake of his words. A nod is all the sign that she's heard him, and a few moments later the woman turns away to continue her survey of the returned pairs, lifting her chin to add to the range of her view. The warmth that so often infuses the Weyrwoman's face is missing, but so too is the grimness that might be expected; rather, she is neutral for now.
Medina looks about the returned riders, looking for serious injuries, then /human/ injuries of any sort. Sighs as she sees none. By all rights, she could retire inside the infirmary now, but she doesn't. she moves forward half an inch, then backward, then finally, with a large indrawn breath, walks out of the shadowed doorway, joins Essdara and Kianda. "How's the foot?" She asks, although for once she seems uninterested in the response, still watching the Weyrleader's face.
Kianda frowns a bit, not at Essdara's answer, but in frustration. She never notices Ginella's glance, which is probably well, considering her likely reaction in her distress. "Alright, Dara," she nods reluctantly. "Later, then, you can expound on it. Please?" She's a bit startled, her attention drawn to Medina, only for her gaze to follow the woman's.
Favoring E'sere with a nod, Issa greets him, "Wingleader," the emphasis of the word speaking volumes. /Her/ wingleader, at least for now. "We have a minor hind injury, but nothing that won't heal quickly and easily. No need to worry about us." She offers the rundown without having to be asked, nodding and then turning an amused gaze on the pair next to her. "Use up the rest of that liquor, Tav?" she asks, teasingly.
Br'ce casts a quick, almost guilty look in Ginella's direction, and makes a visible effort to calm himself. "I'm glad he's all right. I didn't see it coming. I'm sorry." he apologizes, huffing out his breath and running a hand through his sweat-tangled hair. "You wouldn't /be/ in any trouble if you had just listened to me, you know. What was I supposed to tell Ginella if something had happened to you?" Hmm, this might have been a more productive line of reasoning earlier. It's too bad he didn't think of it. "You!" Br'ce whirls on Tavaly, glad to have a target he can more effectively vent upon. "You would be well served to conserve your energy and focus on the job at hand instead of doing those rediculous maneuvers and all that whooping! Threadfall is not a lark to be laughed at. You may think you're invincible now, but the odds will catch up with you sooner or later, mark my words." A finger wags menacingly at Tavaly. "And show some proper respect for your elders. And stand up straighter."
Essdara winces at Ed. "Hurts like anything." She says, though it's a very offhand answer. "And I promise, Kianda, I will." She sighs softly. "I just wish it didn't have to be this way. I hate it when my friends hate it other, it makes life very uncomfortable."
Tavaly smirks, leaning toward the elder greenrider and disclosing the status of her still plentiful booze collection. Her smirk only deepens as Br'ce turns his ire upon her. She laughs, abruptly, wagging a finger right back at him. "When my maneuvers fail me, then I'll change tactics. 'Til that day happens, Immath and I will be delighted to remain untouched by Thread. As for respectin' your elders.. well.. I'll consider it, snowballface." Pbbbbttttt.
T'ral, all grown up, is nevertheless quite clearly in seven sorts of trouble. One of his problems is easily solved -- he switches helmet and goggles to just one hand, which means he can use the other to deal his friend a resounding thump on the shoulder. "Enough with that," he informs Br'ce, almost cheerful now -- what else to do, but grin, knowing what's coming? "I'd hate to have to tell your mother what you did." The words are easy, and his grin too, but he's sneaking another sidelong glance at the Bendenite weyrwoman on the sidelines. And wincing.
"No man," E'sere notes wistfully, "can withstand a woman's wiles. Still, I'm glad to have you along, however it happened--at least you got to fly with us once, hmm?" He quirks a brow slightly, then glances past that pair to Issa again, favoring the woman with a smile. "I think J'tral is nearly done with L'ret, so I'll send them your way next," he tells her. Though, at the outburst from Br'ce, he purses his lips and steps forward, noting, "No need to fight among ourselves, now," he tells them, frowning. "No one's laughing during 'Fall, but we can be happy afterward. Tavaly." The latter name, infused with a note of sternness as E'sere levels a look on the weyrling.
Neither of the Weyrleaders seems as angry as they might be, though neither are they rushing to clap the returned riders on the back. J'cor remains at Yevide's side, silent now that he's said whatever he wanted to say to her. His expression remains inscrutable, but his eyes continue to rove over the dragons, their riders.
T'zen peers at Tavaly with a blank, "You what?" And then he blinks, nodding uncertainly. "Oh, right, right. Really wrestled it outta me." Cough. He glances at Issa. "Glad to hear it ain't serious, Issa." And then Br'ce goes barking off, and he, arm still tightly around Tavaly, glares back. "She done right good, in my book." He smirks at Tavaly, and then back at Br'ce. "You take on her, you take on me, too."
Kianda nods slowly. "Yeah, I can see how that would make parties a bit tense." She sends a startled look downward, to Dara's foot. "You shouldn't be standing out here!"
Ginella turns a sharp look back at Essdara. "Lynched?" she echoes, and her tone is both incredulous and displeased. "Why in the name of Faranth would anyone lynch /you/, because of what /these/ idiots have decided to do?" It comes out awfully condescending, whether she meant it like that or not.
Jolasek slipped in somewhere, at some time, as silently as possible. He keeps enough of a distance away not to be underfoot, but also close enough to catch enough of the discussions firing back and forth. As to why the stablehand is there, is his own business, apparantly. He had heard that something was brewing up and that was enough to get his curiosity going, even if it arrived a little late into things.
Perhaps Ginella's question catches Yevide's ear? The Weyrwoman turns her head for a moment, gaze resting on the Caucus student for several moments. Condescending or not, the question of where the blame will fall is not unworthy of consideration; part of Yevide's reply might be read as her head turns once more, her gaze this time levelled at E'sere, where it remains, steady.
"I just hope that it doesn't cost you your face, an arm, or your life to learn that lesson, young woman." Br'ce positively growls at Tavaly, turning red in the face. One hope he doesn't have preexisting heart conditions. "That attitude of yours is not going to win you any friends. You're just lucky that we need every rider at a time like this. Pre-Fall, you would have been booted out of here so fast it would take your head a week to catch up with your rear." This is what passes for profanity in Bryceland, by the way. He huffs out his breath. "My apologies, E'sere. I'm merely concerned for her continued safety." He's angry because he cares. Really. "Ow!" He rubs his shoulder reflexively. "My mother, I'll have you know, would be standing right behind me in this endeavor." he informs T'ral archly. "She'd take a broom to me if I even thought about staying out of this one. Ginella, on the other hand, is going to do a lot worse than a broom, I think. You'd better come with me and get this over with."
Essdara nods a bit to Kianda, and then looks down at her foot. "I'll go between before I let my clumsiness stop me from seeing the people I care about are back safe, especially in a situation like this. T'zen, Tava, T'ral, Br'ce... All intact. I can rest more easily now." She looks to Ginella, with a slight smirk. "Those idiots, ma'am, are quite likely going to be called heros for today. Not sure if that's right or wrong, but I choose to not give people more of a reason to want to see me trip in the dark."
Issa blinks over at Br'ce, her eyes jumping among the riders uneasily for a moment, though her smile is unfaltering. While she says nothing on the subject of Tavaly's flying, she offers an indulgent little laugh at her response to the brownrider. Waiting for the confrontation to pass, she passes her gaze outside of their little gathering to where the so-called Weyrleaders stand. After a quick assessment of their expressions, she looks back to E'sere. "You gonna go talk to them?" she asks, throwing a quick gesture at the pair. Her voice carries with it an inescapable curiosity to know what happens in that future encounter.
Kianda looks around angrily toward Ginella, but Essdara beats her to the punch. She merely backs up Dara's comment with a firm "Indeed." Though it's toward Br'ce that she's peering. "Did that one- don't know his name- did he get hurt, Dara?"
"I can't heeeeear yooooou." Tav says in response to Br'ce, plugging one ear. The one nearest Br'ce. E'sere, too, receives a response. "All apologies, Wingleader." She says sincerely, bowing her head once. Issa's question attracts the girl's attention, and she, too, now faces E'sere with a curious gaze. A glance over to the Igenite pair gives her pause. eyetwitch.
T'zen merely rolls his eyes at Br'ce, and then follows Issa's gaze towards the Weyrleaders. And he laughs. "Aye, they's just standing there." And he has the gall to raise his hand in a big wave. "Allo, Weyrleader! Nice day, ain't it?"
"Your mother'd clip you around the ear for talking to a girl like that," T'ral replies easily, favouring Tavaly with a nod. "She came out of it, she'll learn." Of the two confrontations that lie ahead, there can be no doubting which T'ral is more concerned about -- those sidelong glances are still tipping towards Ginella, each more hesitant than the last. "Go over there?" This is muttered for Br'ce, incredulously. "You think I'm letting that happen in public, you're sorely bloody --" He breaks off as T'zen hails the Weyrleader, turning his head to observe the outcome.
"I'm sure she appreciates your concern," E'sere replies to Br'ce with a tight smile, still looking at the weyrling rather than the older brownrider, "but perhaps the expression of it could be improved." There's a note of mild chastisement in those words as he flicks a brief look to the other rider. Then, glancing back to Issa, he offers the greenrider a more genuine smile as he asks, "Do you think I should?" He glances around himself to J'cor then, only once T'zen hails the man. E'sere's expression is decidedly neutral, unreadable in his regard of the man, as he moves not a step forward to meet him.
Ginella does not look much pleased by Essdara's answer. "You can be an idiot and a hero at the same time," she snaps, "It's a fine line, and it still doesn't explain what any of this might have to do with you. Did you secretly plan to whole thing, somehow? I can't see why else /you/ would have to suffer any repercussions from it. And no, Br'ce is unhurt," she tells Kianda. "Luckily."
Essdara blinks at Kianda, "Br'ce, you mean? No, he looked to be intact as near as I could see, but I can't very well go check. You know each other?" She looks back at the brownrider, with a sigh. "Aida will be relieved that he's ok." She looks to Ginella. "You can be right and be an idiot, too, ma'am. And I have found people get annoyed when you don't think the things they do. Especially when they already hate you. Call me cautious enough not to stand in a mob and ridicule them."
"She'd do worse to Tavaly once she'd finished with me." Br'ce mutters sulkily. "Would you rather talk with her, or talk with him?" he offers T'ral a choice between Ginella and the weyrleader. "Because we're doing one of the two. You get to choose which."
Kianda relaxes slightly... very slightly, shaking her head in answer to Essdara. "No. Like I said, didn't know his name, even." An eyebrow quirks with bemusement. "Aida sweet on him? Huh." She eyes Ginella for a moment, then slides her attention away.
Jolasek frowns slightly as he tries to sort out all that is being discussed. With so many voices, its hard for one to focus in and after awhile, the stablehand shakes his head in frustration. Quietly, once again, he moves among what crowd may be assembled, not seeming to take notice who he may end up next to now. His lips twitch, held in a light smirk, quite possibly from 'bitting his tongue'.
Tavaly merely stares at T'zen. Glued to his side as she is, she's.. rather appalled. And proceeds to poke him rather hard in the ribs. "Shh. They might force a transfer of you, too, you great idjit." She says in mock severity.
Better late than never, right? Aida strides out in the direction of the large cluster, circling around all of it and letting her gaze roam from here to there with no apparent reaction. Take it all in. It takes her not long at all to pick out the group within which Dara is standing, and so it's eventually that way that she heads. All calm.
J'cor's roving gaze snaps back to the T'zen area when he's hailed, but it doesn't move straight to the bluerider. No, he pauses on E'sere first, one eyebrow arched, and only then moves on. "Good afternoon, T'zen," he replies calmly. With just a little effort - and he makes it now - J'cor's voice can carry clearly across the bowl. "You and Uneth are well, I take it?" The word are pleasant, but the face remains impassive.
Uh... Issa lets her gaze pause on T'zen as he does the hailing, breaking through that buffer that until then existed between the riders and the leaders. Very slowly, she turns her head to view J'cor and Yevide with a composed face, only a hint of the smile that once graced her lips still present. A quick, darting glance is spared for E'sere, and she offers him a single nod before he moves away. Eyebrow is raised at the Weyrleader's response, but she waits for T'zen to respond with bated breath.
T'ral snorts promptly, turning for a moment to take a survey of first Ginella, then the Weyrleader. "Reckon it's the Wingleader's job to speak to the Weyrleader," he replies, continuing his turn to take in E'sere for a moment. Which -- wait -- leaves him Ginella. "You wait, man, yours'll be along sooner or later to scold you," he mutters to Br'ce, driving one shoulder into his friend's by way of ushering him in Ginella's direction. He's going in company, if he gets his way.
"I'd prefer to call you selfish," Ginella retorts sharply, "Attempting to come up with some way to make this about you when there are those of us here who may /actually/ have to suffer repercussions from this." Kianda is spared a glance, though Aida is spotted and she stops being mad as hell for long enough to tell the girl: "Br'ce and Trellazoth are uninjured. Just so you know." Then she turns on her heel and stalks towards the approaching brownriders. T'ral's getting that glare again.
The bluerider breaks his hold with Tavaly, thumbs hooking straps on his riding leathers. T'zen offers J'cor a grin, giving a jovial reply, "But of course, sir. We are always well. You, and- ah, Karth?" Just like normal pleasantries. Nothing goin' on here, right? He spares a look back at Tavaly. "Transfer, bah. He's been watchin' the whole lot of us. What's stayin' quiet gonna do?"
Essdara offers Aida a thin smile as she approaches, shifting her foot with another wince and a sigh. "Gonna have to go in soon." She says, a bit petulantly. She looks more at Aida. "He's fine, for the moment anyway. Imagine he'll lose a few chunks of hide before this is done. Funny, he didn't seem the type to me." She looks at Ginella with a cold glare. "Whatever you say, Ginella. If berating me makes you sleep better at night, then it is my duty to obey."
E'sere, noting the Weyrleader's gaze on him, offers a tight, bland little smile to the man, then deliberately turns away to Issa while the other bronzerider speaks to T'zen. "I should think," he tells the woman, "if he's something to say to me, he'll come do so himself. I've nothing to say to him at present."
Tavaly simply stares. The smirk has faded, and instead a wider-eyed countenance has appeared. It's not the Weyrleader her sights are fixed on. It's T'zen's back as he walks away. She's frozen, arms dangling down at her sides in a hesitant, helpless fashion. Immath, too, shares her riders wariness, on her feet again with wings up, eyes containing sunfire. Tav looks at E'sere with an almost pleading frown.
Kianda looks round, giving Aida a nod when she recognizes the girl. "You never know who a hero's going to be, Dara." She glances back and forth between Essdara and the riders, clearly torn as she inquires of the former, "Need a hand getting inside?"
Aida draws up when Ginella speaks to her long enough to favor the woman with a strained smile. "Thank you," she replies, giving a short nod to go with the words. Her attention swings from there to pick out the pair in question, then T'ral and his, and she just gives another nod and finishes her walk over towards Essdara. "Imagine so," she agrees evenly. "Quit bickering." She reaches out, attempting to give the young cook a very-light mock-punch on the arm. "What'd you do to your foot?" Apparently, the young woman is oblivious to the greater issues presently being poked at.
Yevide is ceding this moment to her Weyrleader, leader of the weyr's fighting dragons; she stands, however, shoulder to shoulder with him. Very little is missed, and her survey of the returned pairs continues; this necessitates a step forward, so that she can peer around the bulk of two browns to run a practiced eye over some of the smaller dragons behind them. As riders begin to peel away, her lips press together for a moment. Her chin lifts then, and one hand comes up in a movement that's mostly aimed at tucking a curl behind her ear - yet also aims to catch T'ral's eye, or Br'ce's. The two men are favoured with the smallest shake of her head, and then she tilts it sideways. Back to the group. Suggestion, or command?
Smirking softly, Issa's eyes drop briefly to the ground, but then they switch up to E'sere. "Not even to tell them that we flew better than any Igen wing could have?" A devilish amusement filters into her voice, still kept in low tones. The exchange with T'zen is watched carefully. Or rather, the Weyrleaders are watched carefully. But she makes no move to stop it, passing an apologetic glance over at Tavaly.
One can kind of predict where to find Br'ce. Usually where the most unpleasantly uncomfortable situation is to be found. He tends to gravitate right to it, by virtue of a somewhat deranged moral compass. In this case, it means catching Yevide's look. "Tiv." He nudges T'ral back, gesturing towards Yevide with a motion of his chin. "I think Ginella is going to have to wait." he says, manfully ignoring the question of Aida. "I think we should talk to the weyrleader first. Own up to our own culpability in this issue." Br'ce always turned himself in immediately if he ever got into trouble as a kid. And everybody else, but always himself first.
"We are well," J'cor concedes, with a single nod of his head. Karth lets some of the stone fall off his statue-ness, arching his neck so that his nose is angled at T'zen. Perhaps he's watching on his rider's behalf, because the Weyrleader's attention is briefly diverted to Br'ce and T'ral. Yevide's motion is signal enough for him, because he does not address the pair: his eyes trace them a few paces, then go back to T'zen. Tavaly, Issa, E'sere - these three are ignored. "And your fellows, T'zen? Perhaps you could report on their status. -- It is an odd request, I realize." No mention of transfers, just a small lift of his shoulders, not quite a shrug.
Essdara looks to Kianda with a tense smile and shakes her head. "No, I can manage it, but thank you. Look me up later, though, and we'll talk." A quick glance around, including Ginella, before back at her, "When tempers aren't so frayed." She rolls her eyes, and smirks at Aida's punch. "Kitchen accident. A knife in the wrong place, a spill at the wrong time, and I didn't dodge it fast enough. Medina patched it up, I'll be fine. Unless it gets infected. But I think I am headed in. I saw what I need to, and this hurts atrociously."
Kianda nods toward Essdara, giving her a grateful smile. "Hmmm. Yes. Timing /is/ everything, I've heard." She moves a few feet sideways, for a better view of the tableau.
T'ral catches himself mid-step -- he's caught Yevide's little nod too, and takes hold of it like a lifeline. That J'cor should concern him less is an unlikely turn of events, but then again, J'cor currently lacks a gleam in his eye that T'ral's other conversational option is displaying prominently. "What're we doing talking to him?" The words are muttered, even as he turns obediently, hands going into his pockets. "We fly, Wingleaders do the talking, I thought." Nevertheless, he's setting a course for J'cor, squaring his shoulders, lifting his head.
"They can figure that out on their own--I do hope they've that much sense," E'sere drawls quietly to Issa, smirking still at the greenrider. He does turn again, however, as J'cor asks T'zen about the wing, brows arching slightly; expectantly, he folds his arms across his chest, glancing between the pair and not inputting anything himself just yet.
T'zen doesn't step far from the others. Just enough for a clear view of the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman. He offers a toothy grin at Yevide and nod, and then glances behind him to gauge the reactions of the others. Well, shoot, what's with all that trepidation? His brows have furrowed a bit as he looks back at J'cor, listening to his request. He scratches his neck. "Well, sir. Seems they're all fine." He pauses a moment, regarding the reserved demeanor of the Weyrleader. Man, he hates that! He glances back at the others again curiously, and then simply beams back at the further leadership pair. "But if they's anything like me, they're /famished/. I could go for a good roast wherry, all to m'self." And with that, he's turning towards the living cavern, with a call behind him. "Who's hungry?"
Ginella stops as T'ral and Br'ce are directed away, recrossing her arms and moving over to listen in on the Weyrleader's words to the assembled riders. She sinks back just out of sight where she can chew on her lower lip and drum her fingers against her arm restlessly.
"You give them too much credit," Issa counters softly, mimicing the wingleader's motion and crossing her arms tightly in front of her. She doesn't give an answer to T'zen's exuberant query, instead dropping to show her smirk to the ground as she chuckles silently. Shaking her head, her gaze returns to the pair of leaders.