Break In The Storm [Graduation Feast]

[Zen]

A'zael, Azora

“Will anyone actually want to hear me speak?” A'zael put the question moodily to B'rax. The man had asked him if he knew what he was going to say at the Spring Storms clutch graduation feast and it had rather caught him off guard. Thinking back, B'rax had made a short congratulatory speech at his own graduation, in lieu of a Weyrleader. He supposed that fell to him now.

B'rax shook his head at the younger man's tone, “I'm sure there are those that cling to your... mishap at our last celebration, but if you cannot move past it then how do you expect the rest of the Weyr to do so?”

A'zael gave a low grunt at that, because it made sense and he couldn't otherwise argue, as was so often the case in his interactions with B'rax. Mishap. “You're far too kind to me, B'rax,” he grinned a bit at the Wingleader.

“Hm, well, I suppose someone has to be,” a small smile tugged at his own lips. A'zael had a decent amount of opposition in the Weyr, of his own making really, but while B'rax did not agree with everything the man had chosen to do, in his policies or his personal life, the Weyr needed united leadership. So long as A'zael didn't do anything too reckless and endanger the Weyr, he would support him. He at least seemed to learn from his mistakes, for the most part.

“Indeed, and I hope you're aware of just how much I appreciate it,” A'zael sighed, arms crossing over his chest as he wondered about what he might say to the graduating class. B'rax was right... dwelling on past mistakes was hardly going to help anything. Best to just move forward. He had made apologies, or tried to in some cases, and there was little more he could do about it but to ensure it didn't happen again in the future. It wasn't like he could go back and change the past.

Watching the Weyrleader look thoughtful, B'rax laughed lightly, “I'm sure you'll come up with something suitable. You do have a harper's flair for the poetic when you actually put thought into your words.”

A'zael eyed B'rax a moment, amusement plain on his face, “I'm not sure if I'm to take that as a compliment or not.”

B'rax offered him a sly smile, “Interpret it however you like, Weyrleader.”

A'zael laughed, “Compliment it is then.” He waved his hand, “Yeah, I'll come up with something.”

The graduation feast was the start of the turnover celebration. It was the first weyrling graduation at Mavros since his own, over two turns ago. It would be a massive bolstering of the lacking Wings. Fifteen weyrlings in all would be joining the Wings, and the relief A'zael felt at the reinforcement was incredibly welcome, and definitely cause for celebration. They would start looking like a real fighting force with the additional riders. Luckily it was winter and there was plenty of time to acclimate the new riders into the Wings before they had their first real test in the more grueling Falls over the Western Continent, which would hopefully mean fewer casualties of the inexperienced riders.

K'ton was overly critical, as always, when he gave the Wingleaders his report on the class, but the obvious fact of Mollin being held back aside, he gave his approval for the rest of the class to graduate despite any less than flattering words he had to say about any of them. They're as ready as they'll ever be. B'rax had told him that K'ton had told the same thing to the Wingleaders with every graduation report, which didn't surprise A'zael at all. And so the Weyrlingmaster had given the news that their training was finally at an end to the class and a feast had been prepared.

This time the high table had not been forgone and A'zael had taken his place beside Karredy. The weyrlings also had a table at the front of the dining cavern, in front of the high table. The feast was for them, after all. After the meal had been thoroughly enjoyed, A'zael stood and drew the attention of the room, looking over the now former weyrlings with a grin as he raised his voice to address those gathered, “Tonight we celebrate fifteen new riders for Mavros!” There was a round of clapping at that, which he joined in, and a number of cheers. He let it die down on its own before continuing, “To be chosen by a dragon is an honor, but also a responsibility, and you should all be proud of what you have accomplished. As you leave weyrlinghood behind and join your respective Wings, know that each and every one of you strengthens the Weyr and brings hope to Mavros. Congratulations and fair skies, riders!”

He addressed them all as full riders rather than weyrlings for the first time, and began another round of clapping before returning to his seat. Many of those gathered raised glasses in a toast, but A'zael was sticking strictly to water tonight. As most everyone was finished eating at this point, Master Clintock and a few other harpers took up instruments and began to play, opening up the night for dancing. B'rax stood from his place at the high table and leaned over briefly as he passed, “Well spoken, A'zael.” The man continued on and found his weyrmate at one of the other tables, and the two were shortly dancing together.

A'zael didn't think it seemed like such a bad idea. He waited a few more moments, until more people had risen from their seats to mingle, some finding their own dance partners, and rose from his seat once more to make his way to where Srunae sat with the rest of her class. However, before he reached her, Azora intercepted him, much to his surprise. Shells. He hadn't seen her since her angry outburst. Was she going to scream at him again? He opened his mouth to speak, but she spoke first, “Dance with me.”

That hadn't at all been what he was expecting. Dance with her? “Uh....” She was staring at him with a look that very clearly told him she wasn't about to take no for an answer. A wary smile made its way to his lips and he held out his hand for her, “As you wish, my lady.” She took his hand tightly in her own and seemed to do her best to drag him off to dance, which he allowed with some amusement, “So... does this mean you don't hate me anymore?”

Azora made a face at him, though there was something akin to amusement in her blue-gray eyes, so very much like his own, “Depends how good'a dancer you are.”

He laughed, “I'll have to pull out all the stops for you, then.”

[Taxx]

T'vir of blue Brauth

One day that would be him, being congratulated by the Weyrleaders, facing graduation and full rider status. He couldn't wait for that day. Until then, however, the chores and lessons and low rank dragged on. He clapped for the new riders, cheered for those who were leaving behind weyrlinghood, and then turned to enjoy the feast and the food. Then, with a full plate, he shifted out of the press of people and claimed a seat, watching as A'zael and his kid moved to the space cleared for those who wanted to dance, wondering if the man would make as much as a scene as he had with the last feast. He'd see, he supposed, as the night went on.

For the most part, T'vir stayed out of the way as much as he could; he shared words with some of his classmates, laughed and joked about any topic that came up, and returned to the food table a time or two as he emptied his plate. The third time, he returned to his seat to find M'kal sitting close by, and he gave the bronzerider a nod of greeting as he dropped into the seat once more. "Having fun?" he asked, a bland sort of greeting as he felt out the sometimes touchy boy's mood.

[Zen]

Novarel

When Joia seemed as though she wasn't going to go to the graduation feast, Novarel took it upon himself to see to it that her plans for a boring night alone were completely dashed. There had been lots of pleading, and honestly plenty of confusion on his part. Celebrations were fun, why wouldn't she want to go? And they were even more fun with friends. Maybe they'd only known each other for a month but that was plenty long enough for Novarel to consider the older girl a friend. He was quite determined that they would go, and together, they would have fun, and maybe Joia would stop looking so sad for a while.

"Come onnnnn there's gonna be tons of good food and music and dancing and... uhmmmmm... well I dunno I've never been to a feast at a Weyr before, kinda missed the last one... drunk Weyrleaders are a thing I guess? That might be funny?" He had pleaded his case, and to round it out he'd pulled out his secret weapon. He had given her the most pleading, hopeful, vaguely sad face he could muster. It was the same face he used on his mother when she was being way too protective and wouldn't let him do something, and it had a 99% success rate. Or something like that. Close enough anyway. He was bad with numbers. The combination seemed to have worked because he had gotten her to laugh and agree to come along.

So he'd sat with her and enjoyed the good food and listened to the Weyrleader's thankfully short speech (because man were speeches boring) and then the music had started up. And it was a song he recognized too! He tapped Joia's arm a few times, “Hey, Joia, come dance with me!” He stood from the table without waiting for an answer and grinned at her, giving her a bow as he laughed at the formality, and then holding out his hand for her, instructions from dumb etiquette lessons playing briefly in his head about the proper way to ask a lady to dance. Honestly why did there have to be a 'proper' way? What was wrong with 'Hey, wanna dance?'. “I promise I'm good at it,” he assured her. He actually liked dancing, it was fun. It took him a while to learn proper steps, but at this point he knew several. She should already know he wasn't about to take no for answer, so hopefully she would just take his hand and dance and make this easier for both of them.

M'kal

Since coming to Mavros, M'kal had been eating better than he had in the Hold. When people here said Mavros was struggling M'kal had no idea what the shell they were talking about. How could the place be struggling when everyone ate so well? Sure there was a lot fish in the diet but he didn't mind. Food was food. And the feasts? Great Faranth, the feasts were great. Besides Draveth, they were the best thing about this place. Since his arrival they'd had two Hatching Feasts and now this Graduation-Turnover Feast and it had barely been a month since the last one!

To say that M'kal was gracelessly stuffing his face would be an accurate statement. He could hardly be bothered to pay attention to the people around him, too wrapped up in eating everything he could get his hands on. When everyone suddenly got quiet, he realized something was up, however, and swallowed his last bite of food to look around. Oh, the Weyrleader was gonna talk or something. Were they not allowed to keep eating while he did? The man's words were mercifully short, and he joined in the clapping briefly until it was clear he was done talking. Quickly clearing what little remained on his plate, he went to pile up a new one for himself and sat back down in the nearest open spot, since others were starting to get up to mingle or dance or go talk to the newly graduated riders.

T'vir sat down next to him a moment later with a brief greeting, and, with his mouth full of food, M'kal nodded in answer until he'd swallowed it. “Myeah. Great time. I always have a great time at these things.” He gestured around with his fork, a hunk of meat on the end, “Food's amazing. You? Better'n the last one for you?” He shoved the bite of meat into his mouth with a teasing grin. “Or worse? Last one people either avoided you like you had a sickness or couldn't seem to get enough, eh?” T'vir: the source of the Hatching's greatest drama. The boy had some stones on him, that was for sure.

[Hiko]

Talera absently fussed with the pins holding her hair up as she entered the dining cavern. Faranth, but she hoped nothing fell! Her dark locks were just so carefully braided and pinned, she couldn't help but concern herself; it was, after all, the first feast she had any inclination to dress up for since her parting from A'dion. And why shouldn't she try to look her best, now? Of course, the last feast had been for Aerroth's clutch, and while she came for duty's sake, the events of the hatching had left her too ill at ease to really enjoy it; nevermind that she hadn't particularly felt in the partying mood at the time.

But duty-bound appearances were not attendances for enjoyment, and she had every plan on finding a rider and coercing them into a dance or twelve. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a proper night on the dance floor, and why not enjoy herself on Turnover?
–

T'lyron sat in a quiet corner, content to people-watch. Despite his Turns at the Weyr with Doriath, he had yet to really, truly feel at home. Oh, he'd made wingsecond under X'ar, and Doriath had been plenty keen on giving chase any time there was a green or gold around, but the rider just felt... distanced.

Sighing, he took a drink of ale.
He wondered not for the first time if it wouldn't be better to ask for a transfer. Benden would be happy to take him back, if only to add one more bronze to the Weyr's ranks. But, no, that didn't quite feel right, either. Nevermind that he had little interest in rekindling familial ties, there had never been much for him there. Telgar, perhaps? No, that wasn't any better. And it wasn't as if he and Varra had anything more in common than just Taylara.

You are stewing in what-ifs, T'lyron. Why, when you could be enjoying yourself?
I'm not stewing, I'm just-
You're stewing.
Well, fine. But you mean to tell me you haven't considered other options?
Of course I have, the bronze replied, But where else has such ample opportunity for me to catch a gold? Have you seen Zalmaranth?
She's insane.
She's gorgeous! Tell me we wouldn't make beautiful children?

T'lyron sighed again and down the remainder of the ale. If his options were drinking and having a ridiculous debate with Doriath, or striking up conversation with one of the new graduates, T'lyron hoped one would come looking to network.

[Esko]

F'mol and bronze Zenoth

F'mol adjusted his suit and examined himself in the mirror, the tip of Zenoth's snout visible in the top corner. Magnificent, the image of a true bronzerider. He rumbled approvingly. Must everything you wear have some sort of blue, though? The bronze pushed his snout against F'mol's side, and the man rubbed it affectionately.

'Well, I like it. And I don't get many funny looks from everyone, so it works for everyone!' F'mol adjusted the knots on his shoulder, the bronzerider and Wingsecond yarns bumping against each other. 'Why, would you prefer to see the color bronze on all my wears?'

No. A pause. Maybe. I just want to see you taking more pride in your rank. I could've chosen any stuck-up tailfork, but I chose you. His voice became surprisingly sincere, and F'mol hadn't prepared himself for the sudden seriousness.

'How does that involve including bronze in my clothing? I assume that the rank knots are enough.' With a final few checks, F'mol began to walk out of his shared weyr with T'lyron. 'Don't bully Doriath too much while I'm gone, alright?'

Hmph. Zenoth curled up in the corner of his area, then closed his eyes. Zenoth never liked his roommate, but there was nothing F'mol could do to resolve that. He never much liked other bronzes anyway; saw them as competition for 'his' gold. Zenoth's commitment skills would scare the most promiscuous of blueriders, but he seemed to view all of the golds as his. And other bronzes stood in his way, apparently. F'mol chuckled slightly to himself as he followed his nose to the Dining Cavern. How, by the first egg, had he gotten himself into this mess?

He'd gotten there pretty early, and so managed to catch the Weyrleader's speech. So it seemed that he did have a way with words? He did sound rather close to a Harper when he wasn't inebriated beyond comprehension. F'mol raised a glass along with others, beaming at the newly graduated riders. He was at least grateful for the new additions to Gust Wing, and he was sure that X'ar was too. Then, it was time to either eat or dance, and F'mol decided to settle with the latter path.

You should ask Aerroth's to a dance. Zenoth suddenly erupted into his mind, and F'mol nearly choked on a sip of wine. After all, should I catch her, it wouldn't do for you to wake with a stranger.

'Ack! Zenoth dear, maybe a warning next time?' F'mol glowered a little, even if the bronze couldn't see his face.

That was my warning. A chortle.

'You're a jerk, you know.'

Well, go! You do know I rather fancy Aerroth.

'And Sularenth, and Danovelith, and Zalmaranth...and eventually Riyobith. You fancy anything with a yellow hide.'

Well, you have to see, Aerroth shines like a dawn's sun. Now, go! Before I fly in there and drag you myself.

'You know you wouldn't fit.' Though, Zenoth did have a point. He should at least make an effort to make aquaintences with the queenriders of Mavros. After all, Zenoth was perfectly capable of catching one of them. Just hopefully not Zalmaranth. F'mol stood and walked over to the Weyrwoman, trying to stand as tall as possible. It was just like talking to any other woman. "Good evening, miss Talera!" He piped, easily remembering her name. Goldrider names were never unknown around any Weyr. Now, what else did he say? It felt wrong to congradulate her on the clutch, considering three hatchings died. But, that was the fault of not enough Candidates, wasn't it? "I take it your queen's rather proud of that clutch of hers? Though, I suppose you've already been asked that, like, ten times now. It is a common topic of discussion for queenriders, isn't it? Or, at least, fellows trying to make smalltalk with queenriders. Um, I'm F'mol, of bronze Zenoth." F'mol smiled warmly, pure humor in his eyes.

Hiko

(J'kai is in the background somewhere, idk xD)

T'skel and blue Taloth

One of the things he loved about Weyrs had to be feasts. Celebrations at Holds were pretty good, with shouting and crowds and bubbly pies. But there was so! Much! Food! at a Weyr. If Mavros was a struggling Weyr, then what did something like Fort Weyr look like? T'skel hummed as he got himself dressed in his cleanest suit; another cool part of feasts was dressing up. He took a small band and smoothed his hair back, tying the ends back with the band. He had to look especially good tonight, because he had a date with him. A date! Sure, it was with Zyrath's rider, and that green packed a punch. But, he didn't know too much about Isali herself.

Well, tonight was a perfect time to change that!

You're wasting your time. Taloth moaned in his wallow. You should be practicing your self defense. Or memorizing geography. Or-

'Taloth, please. These things rarely happen! I can study sometime else.' T'skel rushed out into the common area and found Isali there, all dressed up. "Hey there, Isali! Ready to go?" He chirped, adjusting his wrist cuffs.

Taxx

[Alyx]

Joia

The feast really had been the last thing on Joia’s mind, to be honest. Between her own self-loathing and boredom, she’s barely thought about the option of going to the Graduation Feast until Nova had ambushed her with the idea. At first, she had instantly shot the idea down. Why do something that didn’t involve her? She wasn’t one of the ones graduating, and she really didn’t know any of them on any personal level. She would much rather grab something small and hide from the Weyr as a whole; after all, she was still trying to convince S’bol to let her go home. She didn’t want to chance of running into Mizao, or Karo, or Aleni for that matter. Best just to stay in the barracks and avoid the bare chance.

But Nova is nothing if not...well, driven was a good word for it. He just kept pushing. And pushing. And… ugh!! Before long, Joia found herself laying stretched out on her bunk, looking up and Nova smiling down at her with the cutest, most determinedly harmless looking smile… she laughed and finally relented to go along. After all, like he said, maybe it would be fun? Joia could use a little fun, she supposed. It at least might be a good distraction from her failings and as a person, and let her showcase something she was good at; her craft.

She spent the better part of the few days before working on the dress; her chores were thankfully with the weavers, and they hadn’t minded that she had been stitching away on her own project for the time being. Perhaps they were just happy to see the solemn, brooding child happy about something other than the prospect of reading and hiding. Joia had actually started the project at home and brought it with her, but it had spent the past time in the trunk at the foot of her bunk in the barracks. Now, with a reason and chance to finish it, she put her all into it – sky blue and purple, a bit lavender for the Weaver’s Hall, with just bare hints of pink and creamy white stitching. She’d loved it when it was done; more so when she’d put it on.

And so far? Nova had been right; the feast wasn’t so bad. The food was very good, and so much of it! Music was nice too, and the masses of people were overwhelming. She’d smiled more in the one night then she had since the hatching, and she had to thank Nova for that one – the boy just wouldn’t let her dwell, better or worse. Annoying!! She found herself enjoying the company and the food, their spot at the table giving them best view of watching the dancers, the musicians, and the Weyrleader when he gave his short speech.

Almost as soon as the speech was done, there was a touch on her arm. She looked over at Nova, leaning a little to the side heard him speak. Her eyes widened a little. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea-“ She watched him stand, shaking her head quickly, causing the loosely tied brown locks to bounce against her cheeks. “Nova, I don’t..” She watched him bow and colored a little, the light smile on her lips as he offered her his hand and promised he knew what he was doing. She laughed, then gave a little sigh and turned in her seat.

“I hope you do, I can’t promise the same. Farmgirl, remember?” Still, Joia found herself taking his hand and pushing to her feet, letting him pull her toward the dancers. Now she was fiercely glad she’d worn comfortable shoes.

Joia's Dress

[Rhush]

Srunae || Gold Danovelith

Srunae didn't quite know what to make of herself.

Why are you feeling so insecure, Srunae My Own? This is a celebration of our class’s success; you should be excited.

I know... The brunette thought anxiously, half-listening to the chatter around her table. Various classmates spoke to one another about their excitement, confessing their glee in finally being away from K’ton and their awe at the extravagance of the Turnover celebration that was their Graduation Feast. Srunae sat at the head of the table that comprised of her classmates alongside Melana, the other newly graduated goldrider, taking the head over the younger woman because she had succeeded in graduating top of her class. She twisted a lock of her hair around a finger, pulling lightly at the elegantly pinned updo, her thoughts an utter whirl. She had, during her term as a weyrling, discovered skills she never knew she had before, held multiple roles that were reserved for the Weyrwoman in Karredy’s absence, battled with and won a war that granted her a lover and she – they, had survived weyrlinghood with perhaps the least agreeable weyrlingmaster at Mavros. They should all, including Srunae, be nothing if not excited, ready and raring to move into the next chapters of their lives with their dragons, and yet... Hazel eyes flitted back and forth from bystanders to the high table of ranking riders, headed, naturally, by A'zael, as Weyrleader. Her stomach flipped and she dropped her gaze back to the table before her.

Danovelith shifted in the back of her mind. I thought you were finally comfortable with Fath's?

Srunae mentally flailed. I am more comfortable, She responded, though the butterflies in her stomach twisted and bobbed about as if she wasn’t. It’s not about A’zael… Or well… it was about A’zael, but it wasn’t the man himself; it was the station he was a part of. That high table there – she would have to start interacting with those people on a more level playing field, playing the politics game more fervently. Srunae sighed, pushing away the less than tantalizing thought of playing the game of rank. It was a party! She should be concentrating on the party - as nervous as even that made her, thanks to the prospect of networking for herself. It was one thing to help someone else find some contacts – they did all the talking while she merely provided introductions – and something totally different to push herself into it. At least she had gotten decent enough at keeping her gift under wraps; it was far harder to stay calm when the feelings of a few hundred people were rushing into you.

It’s… well it’s the politics of it all. It’s hard for me to relax even though this is as much my party as theirs, She half-listened to her bronzer's congratulatory speech, doing her best to stifle the butterflies in her stomach as she smiled brightly, the picture of an excited, happy graduate. I’m a Junior Weyrwoman now, which means I’ll have to act a certain way… and I don’t really like the thought that I can’t just be myself. People started spreading out and mingling, some heading for the food and others pairing up to – a flash of panic set into her. Dancing. She would have to dance, wouldn’t she? Oh Faranth... Srunae thought, casting her gaze over to see A'zael heading toward her. She gave him a nervous smile that was quickly replaced with amused surprise as Azora swept her father away instead of allowing the man to approach the newly graduated Queenrider. Srunae could've melted upon the table as relief washed over her, and she smiled genuinely at the little girl's willingness to speak with her father again... and also for the save, as she quickly stood up and weaved her way through the other newly dubbed riders over to the banquet tables.

That and... I'm a terrible dancer! Srunae added as she ducked into the line of people filling their plates. Danovelith nearly fell off of her couch in surprise.

What? You can’t -

Dance, yes. I... well I never really learned how,

We will have to remedy this. Hmm… I imagine Fath's is a good dancer, yes?

Ah, well... Srunae realized she didn't actually know the answer to that question. Did A'zael dance well? She supposed the bronzerider would have to at least know how to dance, given his station, but dance well? That was beyond her. She glanced over at the bronzer and his daughter, considering. He didn't need to be a fantastic dancer to twirl around a little girl, but... Srunae's gaze passed over a set of young ladies on the sidelines oohing and ahhing over the handsome young Weyrleader and his adorable little dance partner. She paused there, blinking, and then chuckled lightly. He did have a knack for picking up women, of which she was acutely aware, and most women rather took to dancing, didn't they?

Something tells me he's a pretty good dancer... She rolled her eyes and finished loading up her plate of food. All the better for me to step on his talented toes. She sighed and shook her head, the curled, ornately braided updo that was her long brunette mane shifting slightly from the movement. Faranth did she hate getting her hair done up. She could deal with a dress, even with small heels, but her hair? Couldn't she have just left it to do whatever it so desired? It was so much less worrisome that way, free from loose pins and complicated curling and primping... She supposed she would have to get more used to that as well, with her new rank... why was it that nearly everything she would have to participate in now were things she had never really enjoyed?

I think you are worrying too much, Srunae My Own. Srunae chuckled and popped a piece of herdbeast into her mouth before heading back across the room to her seat, a slew of comforting goodies piled onto her plate.

I don’t know, Dano. It's nice, being free from weyrlinghood, but it’s overwhelming at the same time. A different routine, more required appearances, more duties-

You have already proven yourself capable of handling the necessities of your rank alongside weyrlinghood. Do you not think it will be easier now that you aren’t worrying about making up your next class? Srunae hadn't really thought about that. She had been balancing a number of things as a weyrling already, and a nice chunk of them had been duties that were technically above her station at the time – a few of which had caused her to miss classes and have to retake them with K’ton one-on-one. Now… they were just part of her rank, and she had fewer outside things to worry about in tandem with them. That didn’t remove the concern about dealing with more political drama, however – it was no secret that she and Danovelith were the pair with the less… fiery attitudes. They would likely be sent off to network more often than any other pair with the removal of weyrling restrictions. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, being sent off to attend any number of hold parties or summits on behalf of the weyr… particularly by herself. Could she handle being the sole responsible party? Being without someone to lean on?

You can lean on me. And as for your worry about dancing? I'm sure Fath's won't have any trouble leading you through the steps so long as you tell him. Srunae winced vaguely at the emphasis on her beloved's last two words, unsure if she really wanted to deal with the needling that would surely follow telling the bronzer of her shortcoming. After all, the man could've had any woman in the weyr, and yet he ended up with the one that couldn't coordinate her own feet. The goldrider settled into her chair and thoughtfully took a bite out of a sweetroll, her mind rolling a million dragonlengths a moment as she took in the scene before her. As she watched A’zael dance with Azora and listened to the background chatter around her, she finally began to relax. Everyone seemed to be having such fun, and here she was worrying about tomorrow instead of enjoying the here and now. She idly tapped a finger to the beat of the music as she slowly ate. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about someone trying to take her dancing until she was done eating…

Stop worrying about your dancing and relax, would you? Srunae chuckled wanly, still glad for the avoidance mechanism. Somehow, the beastcrafter turned Junior Weyrwoman knew the prim gold would have someone lined up to teach her to dance in the next sevenday; but that still didn’t include tonight, and that meant she could still end up murdering someone’s toes.

At least it couldn’t be construed as political suicide yet.

[Zen]

S'fin

S'fin was more than glad to see his brother in such good spirits tonight. He hadn't had to drag him out of his weyr or anything. He seemed genuinely happy to be here, celebrating new riders along with a brand new turn. And that made it all the easier for S'fin to enjoy himself. He didn't have to worry about A'zael getting too lost in his wine, seeing as his little brother wasn't drinking any tonight. He'd had to laugh when A'zael had told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't going to touch a drop tonight. S'fin thought it was perhaps a little extreme, he could safely have a glass or two and be just fine. Oh well. It was hardly anything to be concerned over.

What was more concerning was Mollin's lack of appearance. He didn't blame her, not at all, for there were many reasons for her not to show up tonight, but he hoped she wasn't sulking alone somewhere. It wouldn't do for her to be alone tonight, he didn't think. He debated spending some time with her after the feasting was over. He could congratulate all the new riders and then go find her. With A'zael doing just fine, there was no reason he really had to stay the entire night, even if he did enjoy the socializing. And, well, if Mollin was in decent spirits he could always return after he'd checked in on her. Had anyone thought to bring her a sampling of the food tonight? Would she even want it, or would it just remind her of things she's rather not think about?

He sighed and eyed his brother briefly, wondering why he'd had to go and upset Mollin's progress. Tonight would still be a reminder that Mollin wasn't graduating with the rest of her class, but if the drama hadn't happened at the last feast, maybe she still would have come? The memory was still too fresh, and not just in her mind. There was a reason A'zael was keeping off the wine tonight, after all. With an eye on A'zael, he was one of the first to notice when he rose to speak. His congratulatory words were nice, at least, and S'fin joined in the clapping for their newest riders. And then music started up and people started wander away from the tables, several heading up to speak personally with the night's guests of honor. Actually quite a few. Well, he could wait to offer his own congratulations.

Surveying the room, he looked for a friend or two to kill a bit of time with, but it seemed they were part of the crowd trying to talk to the graduated class. None of them knew which ones would be joining their Wings just yet, so he supposed they were trying to get a jump on getting to know them. The Wingleaders would normally tap them into their Wings starting the day after graduation, but with the turnover celebration carrying over, they might wait a bit longer. His look around the room finally settled on an out of the way location where someone was sitting alone. S'fin frowned at that and found himself heading over.

As he got closer he realized who it was. He'd never had much reason to interact with T'lyron, being in different Wings, and with his rank keeping him at an even further distance, but S'fin could not ignore someone sitting alone at a party. After all, there was no reason the man had to stay if he wanted to be alone. Presumptuously, he took a seat beside the Wingsecond, “You do know this is a party, right?” He gave him a friendly grin and hoped he wasn't one of those men too terribly caught up on rank. S'fin had found he often forgot himself around ranking members of the Weyr these days thanks to his casual, familial relationship with A'zael, who was both his Weyrleader and Wingleader. It blurred lines that some got touchy about when crossed.

“Don't think we've formally met. S'fin, of green Rusath,” he offered by way of introduction. He might know who T'lyron was but he doubted the man knew him. “Sure will be nice to have some new faces in the Wings.” Oh, and T'lyron was a Wingsecond. Maybe he knew something about where the new riders were being assigned, at least those going to his own Wing perhaps? He leaned over conspiratorially, completely forgetting the fact that personal space existed and he barely knew the man, “Don't suppose you've any idea which ones are joining your Wing, do you? Promise I won't tell.” Then he realized that might come off wrong, like that's the only reason he'd come over to talk to him at all, “Oh, oh, I promise that's not that only reason I'm... I mean it's not even any reason I came over here. I just thought you looked lonely. You don't have to answer that. I was just trying to make conversation, I swear.” Shards and shells. He laughed, “I guess a 'how are you tonight' would have been maybe a bit more appropriate question. Sorry. My curiosity got the better of me. Just. Nevermind.” He waved his hand, a bit flustered at himself. Normally he was much better at thinking before her opened his mouth.

Hiko

[Hiko]

Talera's eyes danced at F'mol's attempts to speak with her. He wasn't terribly attractive, but there was something charming about him all the same. He reminded the woman of a young canine, eager to please and full of energy.

“I wouldn't be much of a queen rider if I didn't know our bronzers by sight.” Smiling, she gently shook at her mug, “Would you care for a drink, F'mol?” Without waiting for a response, she reached toward the table, plucked a mug of klah up, and offered it to the man.

“Mmm,” she replied, sipping as she considered. “Aerroth is quite pleased with the Impressions. She's quite doting of Riyobith, but... Well, I suppose I'm mostly just concerned about the clutch's future. Weyrs are progressive, but I worry those girls will have trouble in the coming months.”

Waving her free hand as a way to dismiss such dreary thoughts, the smile returned to her lips.
“So, tell me, F'mol. Had you planned on talking clutches all night, or did you have other designs on the evening?”
–

T'lyron cocked his head at the sudden arrival, eyeing the green rider. Allowing a grin to form, T'lyron offered up his empty mug in a mock toast. “T'lyron, bronze Doriath – but you already knew that, didn't you?”

When the green rider leaned in, T'lyron immediately leaned back on reflex, leaning backwards on the chair legs to do so. A surprised laugh escaped, and the bronze rider had to work to rebalance himself after the surprise.
“Hah, unfortunately, no. X'ar doesn't give me much to go on, outside of flight patterns and drills. But,” he offered, amused at S'fin's small ramble, “I can tell you one thing: I'm much more open about wing secrets with another ale.” Rising, he patted the man's shoulder in a friendly consolation, then left the table to hunt down another drink.

When he returned, T'lyron held a mug in each hand, and was balancing two small plates of food. Carefully, he set the mugs down and moved the plates from forearm to table. Bread, salted fish, and dark, meaty ale – it wasn't the worst meal, by any stretch.
“Hope you don't mind the presumption, S'fin. You looked eager to put something in your mouth other than your foot.”

Esko Zen

[Taxx]

T'vir of blue Brauth

The response was a cheery one, and T'vir grinned back as he took a bite of his own fresh plate of food- a grin which twisted into a brief grimace before he shrugged. "So far so good." At least he had recently been scolded like a child for telling people the truth- and nothing had happened because of it anyway. Yet. "Most people have short memories, they've probably forgotten all about it." A more sour look crossed his face before he pushed those thoughts away and cast a glance over the crowd. He couldn't see Arlin, so probably he was holed up in his room again, avoiding the feast. Good.

"Better," he amended, and grinned again, taking another bite. "How's Draveth? He had a pretty good flight the other day, I don't care what K'ton says. He's just a bitter old man who looks for ways to make peoples' lives miserable."

Isali of green Zyrath

Of course she'd known about the Feast. A celebration like this, welcoming new riders into full status was not an even kept under wraps. The Weyr had been talking about it for days, and Isali had just recently gotten a dress she'd requested finished, fully intending to wear it for the occasion.

The only problem? She'd forgotten it was tonight.

T'skel's voice caught her attention, and his appearance sent her heart plummeting. "Shells!" she nearly yelled, jumping to her feet- no, she wasn't ready. She was barely decent even for the activity of lounging on the couch in the common room; she just hadn't wanted to be alone with Zyrath for grouchy company. “That’s tonight?”

There was no need for him to answer; the question had been rhetorical. Darting off to her room, Isali nearly faceplanted as she tripped, the near-fall only increasing her irritation. Mostly at herself, but still. Could have told me, she snapped at the green as she stripped out of her casual attire and reached for the dress, hung up to keep it wrinkle-free.

A snort, but Zyrath didn’t bother opening her eyes as she replied. It is not my responsibility to remind you of your schedule.

Brat! Isali hissed, tugging the fabric on and moving to braid her hair back. A low growl filled the air at the insult, but Isali had already turned her back to return to where T’skel was waiting. “I’m sorry about that,” she apologized, adding a warm smile for his patience and sliding her arm through his. “I’m ready now.”

[Deleted]

C'mor - Blue Zardilath
C'mor was feeling distinctly un-riderly.

Sure, he was in Gather clothes with full dragonrider knots on his shoulder (even his hair was at least TRYING to behave), but he hated large crowds and he'd basically forgotten what wine tasted like, since he'd spent the past two Turns dry because of the weyrling ban.

Well, technically they only had to spend ONE Turn with no alcohol, but it wasn't like Zardilath remembered the ban got lifted after a couple of sevendays. And besides, it was always better safe than sorry. C'mor might be "a bit of a wreck," but it was better than "embarrassing fights and blow-ups," like what happened at the Hatching Feast with A'zael...

You're not going to die from a couple glasses of wine, the blue told him helpfully after taking a look through C'mor's eyes. Look, the drudges are coming!

The food was getting served? Was A'zael done talking already? C'mor jolted midway through the clapping and joined in, wincing, then eyed the trays of goblets that the drudges were carrying.

He took one (with the wincing care of someone about to touch a hot kettle) and sipped it. It was a typical dark maroon, and he hadn't managed to see any brands or seals on the wineskin--not that he was surprised. He WOULD have been, if anyone managed to get the expensive Benden white to the least-popular Weyr on Pern for a graduation. The vintner had blended in fruits for a summery taste, and it made him feel an unexpected relief after all the rain and cold of a Mavros winter. And, well, the disaster of the most recent Hatching.

I told you, you're not going to die. In their weyr, Zardilath flicked his tail around, humming with content.

He spent the first round of dancing very firmly seated as he shoveled in food, waving down a nearby server for a refill and a new plate. With his lack of dancing skills, he wasn't about to barge onto the dance floor, even with one and a half cups of wine in his stomach.

Thank Faranth you're not a bronze, he said to Zardilath when the first dance was over. I think I would die, if I had to deal with their relationship drama and be OBLIGATED to go to parties. On top of fighting Thread.

Maybe you should drink some more, if you're so worried about their well-being, Zardilath told him kindly. Alcohol gets rid of stress, after all.

Shard it, was that a JOKE? C'mor would have liked to smack his dragon's shoulder, but he was already across the Weyr and even the blue wouldn't fit through the doorway to the dining cavern by now. If you say so, then.

Halfway into the third cup, the first chords of the latest song made him laugh. "Hey, I know this one! How did a Mirran song get all the way here to Mavros?" He wondered, not minding if anyone heard--and with a distinct lack of nervous stuttering, or preemptive wincing if something didn't come out right, or struggling to get things out. "I mean, it's a little late for a harvest song, but winter graduation--harvest--still a celebration in the last half of the Turn. Man, they would have declared everyone holdless for singing this so late. At least, they would in my particular hold, but if the shoe fits..."

And without thinking, he joined in with the harpers right on cue. His voice was a lower tenor, rough-edged and several Turns out of practice, but harvest songs weren't that complicated--all you needed was to hold a tune with some enthusiasm.

(Yep, that was the wine kicking in.)

[Zen]

Novarel

Novarel grinned as Joia took his hand, laughing as she professed her own uncertainty as a dancer. Keeping her hand in his, he led her toward the others that were already dancing and waved his free hand, “You'll be fine. Just let me lead you. We can take it slow if you want. It always takes me forever to learn new dances. Anyway as long as you're having fun it doesn't really matter if you get the steps right.” He stopped and faced her, grinning again as he teased, “Just try not to step on me too much, farmgirl. I don't wanna spend any more time in the infirmary.”

He did his best to ease her into the dance, and found he rather liked the way her dress flowed around her when she moved, “That's a pretty dress. You look nice. Not that you don't normally. But you look extra nice... I guess... ah... you know what I mean right?” He laughed. Joia didn't seem like some of touchy girls he'd interacted with before when his mother pushed him into dances, but he wanted to make sure he didn't upset her because he didn't think before he spoke. He'd been told he had a problem with that quite enough to know it was actually an issue, and to at least try to be aware of it, even if he was usually too late to avoid offending anyone.

Alyx

S'fin :: Green Rusath

“Indeed, but it's only polite to let you introduce yourself,” S'fin agreed when T'lyron guessed that he already knew who he was. It wasn't as though Mavros had many ranking members, not in comparison to the other Weyrs anyway. He couldn't have picked out all the Wingseconds at Southern, and he'd lived there his entire life.

He didn't particularly register when the man leaned away as he invaded his personal space, but was glad at least that he didn't seem bothered by the question, and sat back in his own chair with a certain amount of relief. It seemed he didn't know anything about the new riders' Wing assignments anyway. Oh well. He would find out soon enough, he supposed.

T'lyron left to fetch himself another drink, leaving S'fin with the tantalizing idea of wing secrets. “Oh, do hurry back,” S'fin grinned after him. You are too much a glutton for gossip, fool of mine. Hush, you. I'm sure he was only teasing anyway. He probably ran away. Don't be mean, Rusy, I wasn't that bad. Was I? A rumble of amusement was his only reply. And then T'lyron was making his way back, arms full. See, he DID come back.

He laughed as the bronzerider explained the extra plate of food, “How very thoughtful. It would certainly be good to wash the taste out.” And he took a drink of the ale T'lyron had brought him. “So how is your night going, anyway? You were looking a tad... broody, earlier.” Was that the right word? Close enough.

Hiko

M'kal

M'kal laughed as T'vir suggested that everyone had forgotten his outburst, “Not a chance. Calmed down over it a bit, sure, but forgotten? No way. But I mean.” He took another bite in the middle of his sentence and finished it before continuing, “The Weyrleader did kinda manhandle you a bit. I guess no one probably wants to piss him off so things have quieted down some. 'Specially since there's no telling what he'll do if he gets drunk again.”

The bronzeweyrling turned a wary eye toward where the Weyrleader was currently dancing with a little girl that was surely related to him somehow. Was he old enough to have a kid that old? If he remembered right, the Weyrleader really wasn't that much older than he was. He shrugged, dismissing the man from his mind for now as T'vir asked him about Draveth.

He sat a bit straighter at the mention of his bronze, and suddenly realized how much he was acting like some lowborn slob instead of the bronzerider he was. Forcing himself to slow down on his meal, he cleared his throat a bit, “Draveth is great. Fantastic. And K'ton,” he growled the name, casting a quick look around to ensure the man was no where nearby, “Can shove Between. Sorth told Draveth to do that roll and he still punished us for it. He's out to get us, I tell you, threatened by a younger, more capable bronze pair.” He punctuated his words by stabbing his fork into another piece of meat.

But he didn't want to dwell on thoughts of K'ton tonight. “Brauth did well too,” he offered, recalling that T'vir's blue had been the first of their class to fly, since Daltilith's didn't really count as a first flight, “He's big, for a blue, yeah? Looks like he's gonna have some power to him.”

Taxx

Treyjen

Treyjen didn't miss the lack of alcohol at A'zael's place at the high table, amused at the man's overly cautious measure. He thought it would do better to have a glass and show everyone he could actually behave even with a bit of the stuff in his system, but that was one way to make a point. Sitting at a table with Karosh on side of him and Yelanna on the other, he was glad Nalyra had refused to come. She was still angry at A'zael's dismissal of her and certainly had no want to be part of anything celebrating Srunae, even if it was for her entire class, not just her. Treyjen had worried she might come simply to cause a stir, but he had been pleasantly surprised. This feast really needed to go smoothly after the last one.

Yelanna watched the Weyrleader as he spoke. She'd never come to the Weyr side of Mavros before and so had never seen the man before, “He's as pretty as you said, Treyjen. He says pretty words too.”

“Yes, he's quite good with words,” Treyjen agreed, “Though I can think of better uses for his mouth.”

“Treyjen!” Yelanna looked aghast and then laughed, as Karosh shook his head beside him, “He's the Weyrleader, for Faranth's sake.”

Treyjen grinned and shrugged in response, eyeing Yelanna a moment, “He'll never agree anyway, no matter how I try to convince him. You'd have much better luck.”

Yelanna gave an indignant snort, “I'm not you. I've no desire to jump into bed with the first pretty thing I see.”

“Shame, I'm curious how we compare,” he grinned darkly and Yelanna rubbed her hand over her face in exasperation.

“I think Nalyra would would kill me if I did anything with him, anyway,” she insisted after a moment. Treyjen grunted agreement at that. It would only incense her current state if her best friend slept with the man that had so recently rejected her. “Not to say I wouldn't appreciate an introduction.”

He laughed, “Careful, love, or you might find yourself in his bed despite your best intentions. You do enjoy pretty words, after all, and I meant what I said. He has quite a way with them.”

“Please. I'm sure I can control myself,” she rolled her eyes.

A'zael was tugged to dance by a young girl, however, and Treyjen imagined that was the daughter Srunae had spoken about that had so recently lost her mother. “Well, introductions will have to wait, it seems,” he stood, looking around for Srunae to offer his congratulations.

“What, you won't dance with me?” Yelanna offered him a pout.

“I'm sure Karosh will be glad to dance with you, love,” he cast a glance at his best friend, “Besides, the night is young. I'm sure you'll be able to steal me away for one later.”

“I'll hold you to that. I'm the one that taught you, I expect at least one out of you,” she chided him, but offered her hand to Karosh who led her away to dance as Treyjen made his way to Srunae.

Taking a seat beside her, he offered her a genuine smile, “Congratulations on surviving weyrlinghood. Now the real fun begins, hm?” The smile turned into a suggestive grin and he leaned in slightly, “I'm quite looking forward to working with you more closely.” A glance toward A'zael dancing with his daughter had him nodding toward the man, “He said you two had made up, but I didn't get any details out of him. That was a couple sevendays ago. He hasn't done anything to go and upset you again in that time, has he?” He raised an eyebrow over at her, “You don't seem to be enjoying yourself as much as you should be.”

Rhush

[Esko]

F'mol and bronze Zenoth

"Oh, of course!" F'mol chuckled, accepting the mug of klah when it was offered. Why wouldn't she know him on site? Especially since Mavros was a small Weyr, and bronzeriders in general tended to be very well-known. Of course, he wasn't nearly as famous as men like A'dion or A'zael -thank sweet Faranth- but he was sure his name was tossed around a few times. He took a sip and acknowledged the woman's next words, at first feeling rather pleased. But then, Talera's words turned to worry, and F'mol sighed. "Ah, the ladies. I'll admit, I don't know what to make of the new brownriders. I was hoping the one girl from Aerroth's maiden clutch would be the only one, but...they have a tough road ahead of them. And Riyobith's rider, oh dear. I believe the blue weyrling was just trying to get attention, but I fear he's set something terrible in motion."

Then Talera diverted the topic, and F'mol was glad to get away from it. "My plans besides clutch-talk? Well, I supposed I'd drink some more of this klah, then perhaps find someone to dance with. I mean, would you, perhaps, like to be that someone?" F'mol smiled and lifted an eyebrow invitingly. Hey, once in a while he could be smooth!

T'skel and blue Taloth

Whatever he'd expected, he hadn't thought the reply he heard would be a swear. "Oh, uh, yeah, it's tonight..." His voice faltered as he heard scuffling. Who could possibly forget a feast? T'skel stood there patiently, waiting for Isali to emerge. You pick very strange women. Taloth mused, his voice half-asleep. T'skel ignored him, instead watching as Isali eventually came out of her room. "It's alright! No harm done." He grinned at her, accepting her arm through his. "You look nice." He added, as the two of them walked to the Feast.

Hiko Taxx

[Hiko]

Talera chuckled at F'mol's attempts to lure her onto the dance floor. He might not be the dashing rogue, but she didn't necessarily believe she needed that in her life, anymore. The gold rider finished the last of her cooling klah and set the mug down gently, pondering her next move.

Obviously, F'mol had plans for the evening, and Talera couldn't help but enjoy his company; he had a kind look to him, seemed more humble than the usual, boasting bronze type. He was willing to entertain her for a time, too. She briefly considered the notion that he might merely be buttering her up for the next time Aerroth rose; it was no secret that she and A'dion had parted, and it was not uncommon for bronze riders to make themselves available when they knew a weyrwoman was free from a mate.

At seeing the least subtle eyebrow quirk she'd ever come across, Talera ducked her head and smiled, dismissing the idea. No, this was a man merely wanting companionship for the evening. And that, she could give in spades.
“I think, F'mol, I would like to be that someone. I'll follow your lead?”

Esko
–

T'lyron waved the green rider's concern off as he reclaimed his seat.
“I'm broody. I brood.” He took a drink from his refilled mug and grinned. “Joking, promise. No, there's no dark cloud over my head. I'm just restless, I suppose. Ever since Impressing Doriath, I haven't really felt at ease, here. Even before, really. It's never quite felt like home, but then again, neither did “home”. Maybe I'm just inconsolable?”

Shaking his head, T'lyron took a bite of the fish and dipped a chunk of the thick, dense bread into his ale. After the bite of the loaf, he eyed the green rider with amused curiosity.
“So, man sees a brooding, sad cloud and decides to make friends. Are you normally so compassionate, or did I look particularly morose?”

Zen

[Taxx]

T'vir of blue Brauth

Forgotten, calmed down- it was sort of the same thing to him. Nobody was making an obvious fuss about it, that he knew of; had anyone talked to A'zael about it, voiced their opinion of what T'vir had said? Did anyone care that a boy was riding a gold and getting away with it? T’vir had thought there would have been a more immediate reaction to his revelation. But no.

The talk turned to K’ton, and T’vir blinked at the news. “He did?” And K’ton had still blamed Draveth? That was just wrong. “What a tailfork. How can he tell us to have control over our dragons if he lets his do what he wants?” And then punish the younger pair for it? “Whatever. He still did well. And thanks. Brauth enjoyed it- he enjoys anything, really.”

A nod and a short pause as he stuffed a bit of meat into his mouth, swallowing it down before he went on. “Yes, he is. Already outsizing some of his brothers; if he keeps it up he’s gonna be quite the force to be reckoned with.” Pride colored T’vir’s tone as he spoke about the blue, and he could feel Brauth’s pleasure at being the topic of discussion in the back of his mind. “Nowhere near Draveth, of course, but definitely above most of the other blues.”



Isali of Green Zyrath

“Thanks, you do too,” Isali replied as she approached. There was just a prickle of embarrassment at keeping T’skel waiting, but he didn’t seem to mind too much. Good. Dressed in her best now, Isali walked with the bluerider to where the Feast was being held. “Just think,” she commented as they neared, and grinned at him. “We’ve got a ways to go, but one day that’ll be us graduating. That’s something nice to look forward to, right?”