6/21/2002

08:39 PM

Logfile from Sk'lar.

                              

Northern Curve of the Bowl

A symphony of sounds resonate off the weathered face of the cliff as raucous activity dominates this side of the bowl. Wisps of conversations can be heard as weyrfolk to and from the living cavern while riders, brandishing full stomachs, head back to restless lifemates. Shallow grooves, made by powerful talons, mar the sandy floor and make walking a bit tricky as you try to navigate through patchy crowds of people in search of your next destination.

   Light clouds wisk along high in the sky.   It is a fall midday.

Flittering around, you see Elly-Phant, Crazy, and Repugno.

Annie and J'ak are here.

The following dragons are here: Nhetoth, Lyssath, Khaleth, Yveseth, Dezaith, Aramyth, Daemoth, Njordth, Paenth, Azraeth, Saoirth, Kataneth, Asuenoth, Liuth, Chesketh, Ankhoth, Lumanevolth, Helicyth, and Kahlendroth

From here you can go:

Central Bowl              Tunnel                     Eastern Curve             

Living Cavern             Western Curve              Ground Weyrs             

 

Sk'lar slides from Kahlendroth's tilted shoulder, bounces over the bulge of the dragon's foreleg, and then lands upon the ground with a *thump*.

 

Astride Helicyth, Aida turns to her guests, quickly unfastening their riding straps.  "Everyone okay?" she queries briskly, before remembering who her guests are.  "That is, my Lord, if you'll allow me to dismount first and give you all a hand -- "  And the brownrider swings herself -- with more dignity, less ease -- onto the ground.

 

Aida descends the slope of Helicyth's side.

 

Astride Helicyth, Adrick smiles and nods, before dismounting himself.  While he's not as practiced as the brownrider, he is, at least, able to get off a dragon with some degree of dignity.

 

(LC) Tarlin snorts.  "Yes, well, I'm six turns older, now, and I bet I can whip you any day."  She sticks her tongue out at him again, then recalls her orders for strictest decorum.  She clears her throat.  "And I'll stay up doing whatever I please, tonight, thank you."

 

Adrick descends the slope of Helicyth's side.

 

Astride Helicyth, Riko appears completely shaken as he dismounts.

Riko descends the slope of Helicyth's side.

 

Astride Helicyth, Zhavia presses her hand briefly to her forehead and gives a slight shudder, before twisting to slide down the dragon's side, more careful of her skirts than her dignity, though she does manage to land upon the ground without a stumble.

 

Zhavia descends the slope of Helicyth's side.

 

A white-clad resident stationed in the shadows of the living caverns entrance disappears within as soon as the party arrives.

 

Annie stands formally near the entrance to the living caverns, looking quite diginified in her obviously new dress, despite the red puffiness around her eyes. She sees Sk'lar arrive just /after/ the Cromites, and as he nears her, she hisses under her breath, "You're /late/." But then she arranges her features into a pleasant expression. "Telgar Weyr's warmest greetings to you, Lord Adrick. I am Annie, Weyrwoman of Telgar." She extends one hand formally.

 

(LC) K'no laughs happily at her threat and says, "Sure sure, Tarlin.  Sure sure."  The old man's laughter descends into a chuckle and finally stops as he brings the glass to his lips again.  He takes a final drink of the wine and says, "Still, you should go to sleep when this is all over.  I'm sure your Bronzer has business--and wounds--to attned to.  No real sense in staying up when you've been working all day."  The man shakes a finger at his friend.

 

Sk'lar

Rukbat-gilded hair of varnished mahogany tops this lad's head while being rooted deep in a rogue's shadow. Olive-complexion attunes his round face, only furthering the character of the single dimple upon his left cheek and the blanch of a hair-thin scar that trims opposite dark eyebrow. Copper's shavings flicker in the saturated depths of his sepia-imbued eyes, lending a sparkle to an otherwise dark presence. Form is thin, still dealing with adolescent's growth with muscles ever striving to keep up with the heights this boy's body is yearning for.

Curiously enough, the teenager seems to be sporting a couple of bumps and bruises. Most noticeable would have to be the left-side black eye -but there is also a bit of a purpling on his jaw as well.

Fine tailoring gleams true with the elaborate and seemingly frail weave of virgin-white sisal shirt, string-laced front and long sleeves. Top is tucked into a pair of tight-fitting wherhide pants set to shine in a depthless marine blue complete with gold piping trimming down the legs, boots are dyed an oddly roguish sable. And the icing -his riding jacket of blue and gold, the perfect covering for any debonair pirate of the skies.

Black and White twine about, dressed with a thread of shining bronze. The knot it new, proving not only that he is a member of Telgar Weyr, but the Weyrleader. The badge of the StarFire wing is not far from it.

He is awake and looks alert.

Carrying:

 Fallon                                                                        

Sk'lar just looked at you.

 

Annie

Murky depths of olive settle in a faded, befreckled countenance above thin lips, while a coppery-toned autumn mixture -- reds, oranges, browns, and golds -- wisps about her head; the hair is cropped functionally short at her chin, tickling persistantly at nose and cheeks. Average height is accentuated by a gaunt frame, boniness protruding at all angles and curves, distressingly, wont to be found. A lanky creature, she moves cautiously, but with a smoothness practiced over turns which, along with faint crinkles about the eyes, betrays obvious maturity.

Autumnal gold fits trimly around the woman's slight torso, gently scooped neckline revealing a modest amount of pale, freckled skin. Long sleeves flare slightly at bony wrists, falling gently over her hands; occasionally the silver flicker of a few delicate bracelets can be seen. The dress sways heavily over her hips, falling in burnished waves to her ankles, where delicate slippers peek beneath the hemline.

Double cords of white and black twine with a silken ribbon of desert gold, looping thrice over one bony shoulder. Golden thread binding and a pair of tassles marks her as Telgar's Senior Weyrwoman.

She seems to be in her later thirties.

She is awake and looks alert.

Definite displeasure hints in her eyes and that slight frown on her lips.

 

Aida offers a helping hand to any of her three passengers who might need it, then hovers to their left as Annie takes the lead.  Her gaze flickers idly to Sk'lar, then returns to focus on their guests.

 

J'ak

Strong bones and tawny coloring give him the look of a lion: lean, rangy, proud, strong. Lightly tanned olive skin smooths over a long face given character by a strong nose, strong jaw, and arching brows. Bright hazel eyes are mostly blue, but flecked with bits of gold and gray that sparkle like mica. Golden brown hair makes a thick and slightly wavy mane to the nape of his neck, soft and full. He is tall, thin, with broad shoulders and well-developed upper arms, though the rest of his body is more slender than muscular, long-limbed and smooth of gait.

His form is clothed in blue Gather finery. A sapphire tunic of fine cotton falls to his hips. A dark blue leather belt cinches it in at his waist, clasped with a silver buckle in the shape of a dragon, wings on a strong upstroke. The high stiffened collar angles down to a point at the base of his throat. Sleeves of a midnight blue sisal shirt ripple silkily from his shoulders to be gathered at his wrists. Buttery smooth wherhide trousers fit closely against his legs, dyed a blue to match his shirt.

He wears the simple knot of black and white threaded through with bronze to show he's a Sr. Weyrling at Telgar Weyr.

He is awake, but has been staring off into space for 3 minutes.

 

Aida

Riderhood has its own legacy: Aida's titian tresses have been reduced to a ruddy flame, anointing her like a pixie illuminated by sunset's fire.  Her proportions, too, have been pared down to a taut frame, sans hint of adolescent superfluity.  Her facial features betoken anonymity -- dark eyes, small mouth, sun-drenched complexion -- and while she's not comely, there's something disingenuous latent in that calculated stride and confident eye.

New leathers grace Aida's form, albeit with an unfortunate creak dogging her every movement.  Dyed a deep wine red, their cut is simple, classic -- from long-sleeved jacket to inner vest to tapered, taut pants.  Only her boots are black, polished to a gleam.  The sole embellishment to her outfit are the embroidered knots and loops that serve to fasten her jacket close, delicate whorls of silver that dance fancy upon otherwise sober regimentals.

Cinammon brown spices up thrice-coiled Telgar's white and black, its worn woody hue mediating the stark newness of white and brown.  A fussy silver tassel anoints the triumvirate, teasing Aida's shoulder with ornamental authority.

Worry lines and a heavy step cast Aida's age in doubt: twentysomething, certainly -- but which end of it?

She is awake and looks alert.

Stilted formality hangs like a stiff cloak upon her, disguising all within.

 

Adrick

Adrick isn't a very remarkable man.  He's average in height and weight with shoulder-length, brown hair that's usually tied back by a strip of leather. His eyes are a pale shade of slate blue, made brighter by the deep tan of his face, and his nose is a proud, prominent slope that frequently shadows his characteristic, lopsided grin.  Weather-worn cheeks are made softer by a pair of dimples that sprout with each curl of his lips, lending a boyish charm to his, otherwise, rugged features.

A rich, velvet jacket of pale blue rests neatly over a crisply pressed tunic of a light yellow-gold, the shirt's neckline buttoned high around the Lord's neck. Long slacks of freshly-dyed indigo are held by a wide belt with an ornate buckle depicting Crom's seal in finely-wrought silver, and shined boots of ink-dark leather form to calves, buckles shined to a high sheen.

A double cord of yellow-gold and pale blue, twined into a triple loop with two tassles hanging from it mark Adrick as the Lord Holder of Crom Hold.

He is awake, but has been staring off into space for 2 minutes.

Carrying:

 Lanlo                                                                         

 

Riko

Crystal blue eyes hide behind long lashes and errant wisps of his darkest brown hair, hair that is meticulously cropped about his effeminate countenance, tickling rounded ear tops and neck's curved nape. Pale skin only hints to color upon his rounded cheeks, where the faintest tint of seashell pink appears; the roseate hue, too, touches his thin lips that are oft curved in a delicate smile. Short by anyone's standard, his form is undeniably thin -- nearly emaciated and gaunt, carried with a daintiness primarily unknown to his gender.

Palest blue -- a neatly tailored tunic -- is contrasted nicely by a short-hemmed vest of a deeper, oceanic hue. Trim trous ride precariously on his non-existant hips, made of a sturdy, but soft, fabric. His boots, though worn, are well-polished, allowing a dapper shine onto the black leather.

He is awake, but has been staring off into space for 2 minutes.

 

Zhavia

Thick ebon hair is done in a thousand tiny braids, flowing from the crown of her head down her back, to brush mid-thigh. Each one is dusted lightly with a soft gold-toned powder, and the tip of each braid is surrounded by a delicate light blue or golden bead, their gentle clacking a soft and soothing noise. A few wisps fly free to frame her delicately boned face, off-setting the rich chocolate of her dark skin. Tip-tilted eyes are a startling emerald, sparkling with good humor and sly mischief, framed by long, black lashes. Her nose is long and straight, proudly jutting from a face filled more with character than beauty, but becoming all the same. Thick, pouting lips are a dark rose in shade, tugging upwards in what seems to be an ever-present smile. Firm chin is stubborn, a testament to the strength of will that resides within the frail-seeming body.

Willowy body is sheathed in fabric of glistening metallic gold, draping itself over slender form to fall in a silken sigh to the floor. Gathered about her neck by a soft blue collar, the sisal drapes itself against gentle curves, softening the lines of her body and granting her a more feminine than usual appearance. Material slithers over her body, clinging to bosom, hips, and legs, whispering with every movement. A slit slides up the right-hand side of the skirt, from floor to mid-thigh, displaying the intricate straps that hold her gold-dyed sandals in place. Across the back, straps wind from the small of her back half-way up, leaving the rest of her back and shoulders bare. A wrap of pale blue fabric is draped lightly across her shoulders to ward off any chill.

Curving o'er Zhavia's shoulder is the intricate gold and blue knot of Crom Hold's Headwoman, the double tassles of her rank falling gracefully down her back, swaying with every movement.

She is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.

Calm, cool, and serene, there's but a hint of wariness in Zhavia's manner, just the faintest wisp of suspicion.

 

J'ak stands slightly behind the Weyrwoman Annie, his golden form resplendant in blue. Holding himself still, he watches as the brown lands, and the Cromites are handed down to the ground by the new Weyrsecond. Hiding a chuckle at Annie's hissed comment to Sk'lar, he waits till it's his turn to step forward, an arm ready to give any female an escort inside.

 

(LC) Re'a perks as she hears from her lifemate outside that the Cromites have arrived, and after nodding to her friends, moves off away from the wall. She gives Tarlin a wave, then motions towards the entrance. Hopefully the cook will understand what she's saying.

 

(LC) The harpers end the jig, then prepare a song, letting the silence fall in anticipation of the Cromites entrance into the living caverns.

 

(LC) Eve has disconnected.

 

B'ran walks in from Center of the Bowl.

 

Riko fussily straightens his tunic and vest as he recovers from the shaking experience of flying a-dragonback. He steps up behind Lord Adrick, hands clasped behind his back, chin held high with burgeoning Cromite pride.

 

(LC) Jiassae remains with her friends, still laughing over the day's trials. Yet, as the harper's fall silent, she looks around Giligon towards the entrance, "I think they're here guys." Shall everyone turn and stare as they enter?

 

Adrick smiles and steps towards Weyrwoman Annie, his arm extending as he takes her hand to return the formal greeting.  "Crom's duty to you, Weyrwoman Annie.   You have our gratitude for this evening."   He pauses, releasing the Weyrwoman's hand.   "May I present my assistant, Riko, and the Headwoman of Crom Hold, Zhavia."   Yes, there is a note in his voice when he presents Zhavia.

 

(LC) Tarlin opens her mouth to retort when an out-of-breath resident lad trots up to her side to mutter something about an arrival.  The cook's eyes go wide and she shoves the lad towards the kitchens. "Remember the bottle we have set in snow in the cellar?  Fetch it, quick, and be careful."  She takes a deep breath, straightening herself out, then smiles anxiously at her friend.  "How do I look?"  She starts, then, remembering that they're going to need glasses, but finds that her 'helper' has already retreated beyond the kitchen entrance.

 

Zhavia loosens her riding cloak, sliding it from her shoulders to drape it over one arm, her free hand adjusting the light wrap left in its place. Emerald eyes are dark as she looks over the Telgari delegation, and she inclines her head in respectful greeting as Adrick introduces her. " Weyrwoman," she murmurs, moving closer to hover at the Lord Holder's shoulder.

 

Swinging a leg over cobalt ridges Dany shimmies down the dawn-kissed neck, with the graceful assistance of Tenraith's azure forelimb.

Dany slinks with a swish of her hips toward Main Living Cavern.

 

(LC) Dany has arrived.

 

(LC) K'no juts his thumb at the door way as the lad appears.  "Yup.  Chesketh says some fancy people are outside."  The old man gives the cook a once-over twice and says, "If I didn't know you since you were wee high, I'd be asking you out for a stroll on the beach, Tarlin."  Such a suave rider.  "Whatabout me?  Not to shabby?"  The rider turns around and clasps his hands behind his back.

 

Sk'lar slides neatly from Kahlen's shoulder, combing fingers back through windblown hair to restore some sort of order. A wry grin turns at the corners of his mouth at Annie's hushed words before he is flashing an even brighter smile at their guests. "Telgar's duties," he greets, dropping his chin slightly with something of a nod. "Weyrwoman Annie and I are pleased to see that you and your deligation are here." He extends a hand as well towards Adrick as the introductions are made.

Behind Helicyth, the other four dragons arrive with more Crom passengers: the Hold's Steward, various advisors and senior staff.  The group gathers behind Lord Adrick, while the dragonriders move to stand with the Weyr's welcoming committee.

 

Aida falls into position on Sk'lar's other side, as a dutiful Weyrsecond should.  Some last-minute instructions are murmured to J'ak and the other riders waiting with the Weyrleaders, though her posture remains stiff with formality, hands clasped behind her back.

Annie nods in turn to Zhavia and Riko. "A pleasure," she states simply with a faint smile, a flicker of curiosity flares as she watches the Headwoman and Lord for a moment. She visibly cringes at Sk'lar's words, as if the very sound of his voice is like fingernails against a chalkboard. She basically ignores him, though she does sight B'ran and offers him a nod of greeting.

 

B'ran crosses the bowl adjusting his bolero tie, the brisk walk of one accustomed to the physical task of diplomatic rendezvous and those things holderish. With a flare of arm in the way of the old world, he stops shy of the Lord Holder and lady Weyrwoman, WeyrLeader, WeyrSecond, et al and bows from the waist, greeting each in turn in the formal way. "Telgar's duties to you my Lord and Lady Crom," he says from behind, barely audible so that those things required but not intrusive may be heard as they might. Eyes shift to Sk'lar and Aida, a short nod given to each, before resting on Annie quietly. "Weyrwoman," he says softly. Hands slip behind his back, awaiting.

 

(LC) Tarlin takes another deep breath, the smile she beams at K'no extremely grateful.  "You look wonderful, K'no.  I bet by the end of the evening, you'll have many more propositions than I."  She winks at her friend, and then the lad is returned, bottle wrapped in a pressed towel in his hands.  Breathing heavily, he presents it to Tarlin.  The cook nods her thanks, then, with an apologetic gaze, asks, "Could you grab about six or so glasses, please?  And hurry!" she calls after him, as she doesn't even have to ask before he's gone again.

 

J'ak waits his turn to make introductions, a hand extended to the steward, "Telgar's welcome to you and your group. " Flashing his usual cheerful smile, he offers his name next. "J'ak, it is." Turning to a rather lovey lass, he gives her a wink before offering his arm to one of the elder ladies of the group as they prepare to enter the living caverns.

 

Adrick takes the Weyrleader's hand, smiling.  "Weyrleader.  It is a pleasure to finally meet you."   He then introduces other members of his arriving staff, such as the Steward...and others.   Then he leans forward, in an aside.  "Weyrleader, Crom has no lady.   At least..not yet."   Ahem.  Backing away, he turns to Telgar's Weyrwoman.  "May I escort you?"

 

(LC) K'no waves off the complement.  "Bah.  I'm getting too old to be handsome."  The young-at-heart rider grins at Tarlin and watches the little helper dash around.  "Must be fun to be able to order people around.  I havn't done that in so many turns I think I've forgotten how!"  K'no chuckles softly and peers into his glass.  "All those formalities," K'no mutters, glancing at the entrance, "Must be a pain."

 

(LC) Dany sways in, almost breathlessly, dark eyes searching the crowd for someone she knows.  Patting her dress one last time, she shuffles a little closer to Tarlin.  Winking she watches her former Candi-mate fluster.  "It looks nice Tarlin"  She whispers, eyes darting here and there.

 

Annie smiles so faintly to Adrick, taking his arm lightly. "It would be my pleasure," she states, so properly, using her free hand to pick up the edge of her skirts to aid movement toward the bustle of the caverns.

 

Sk'lar inhales deeply before he extends a hand towards the entrance into the caverns, "Ahhhh, I believe our cooks seem to have outdone theirselves today. I hear they have produced quite a spread for the event." He quirks another glance at Annie, his grin deepening as much as possible without the ache of a blacked eye to hamper it. His eyes alite upon Zhavia and he crooks and elbow to her, "Might I have the honor, Zhavia?" And he seems to search the area for something... a firelizard perhaps?

 

Riko tugs his vest straight once more, icy blue eyes gazing at the handsome J'ak for a long moment. They grow them fine here in Telgar, eh? He makes to trail after the entourage.

 

Annie treads toward Main Living Cavern.

Adrick walks toward Main Living Cavern.

J'ak walks toward Main Living Cavern.

 

Leaving Aida, in turn, to take the Hold Steward's arm.  "Right this way, please.  We'll have a nice warm toast to refresh you after that hop between," she mentions as the party enters the living cavern.

Zhavia is quite grateful at that particular moment that skin as dark as hers doesn't show much of a blush. Giving B'ran a quick look, she shakes her head slightly, before looking Sk'lar up and down. " So you became Weyrleader, did you?" She doesn't say any number of things, given the dignity of the occasion, but her expression is whimsical as she accepts the arm, resting her hand lightly upon it. " You may." Amused, she watches him look around. " I'm afraid Skalar couldn't make it."

 

Aida strides toward Main Living Cavern.

 

Main Living Cavern

Bright banners in Crom's colors of yellow-gold and light blue festoon the vaulting arch of cavern above, numerous glow baskets casting light into the usual gloom.  The Weyr's firelizards, drawn by the commotion and the warmth, seem to have found perches along the craggy walls, creating a living tapestry of flashing colors and sounds.  One corner has been cleared, and a short stage set up with room for dancing beyond.  The tables have been carefully set, plates and silverware placed at measured intervals in preparation for the semi-formal meal.  A table beside the hearth, draped in Crom's colors, bears a spread of Southern fruits, cubes of various cheeses, sourdough rolls, and cured meats, as well as the delicacy of spiderclaws chilled in fresh snow, a spicy red sauce available for dipping.  Residents picked for their presentability, wander amongst the guests with wine.

Flopped atop various perches are Frazap, Curious, Kaijin, Sanctus, and Tali.

You see A small runnerbeast carving, kitten carving, Reni, and Telgar Weyr Menu here.

Tarlin, Jiassae, K'no, Re'a, Dany, Mathew, Annie, Adrick, J'ak, and Aida are here.

From here you can go:

Lower Caverns             Bowl                       Infirmary                

Kitchen                   Gaming Room                                          

 

Sk'lar swaggers toward Main Living Cavern.

B'ran has arrived.

Riko has arrived.

Zhavia has arrived.

Summersett arrives.

 

Re'a stands near the entrance, a decided smirk on her face as she holds a glass of wine in her hand, seeming to be waiting for someone. Nodding to the group as they enter, she moves off, disappearing behind a few residents who turn to stare at the group.

 

As the group enters, the harpers strike up a simple, yet pleasing Crom ballad. Violin, panpipes, and drum form a pleasant melody as a welcome to Telgar.

 

Adrick whistles softly as he steps inside, with the Weyrwoman of Telgar on his arm.  "My compliments to whoever did the decorations."  He says softly, almost in an undertone.   A little bit of his nervousness is then shown.  "Er...are we supposed to dance now?"   This is asked in a whisper.

 

Jiassae gives a low whistle as she sees the entering group of people, a bushy brow raised as she nudges poor Giligon in the side. "Lookee there, have you ever seeen such before?" Someone stop her now before she says anything more.

 

Annie's hand remains lightly on Adrick's arm. "Our Headwoman did the design for the decorations," she comments, inclining her head slightly. But, she does take sympathy at the Lord's nerves, and adds in a whisper, "Dance, drink, enjoy the appetizers, whatever you please-- it's all Telgar's finest."

 

Tarlin rolls her eyes yet again at K'no.  "Don't belittle yourself so.  You look terrific, K'nono."  And then the delegation has entered and Tarlin has just enough time to take a deep breath before charging forth, wine in hand.  "Telgar's duties to you and yours, Lord Adrick," the cook greets the Cromite delegation.  "Wine?" she offers, presenting the still dripping bottle.  And, as if by cue, the now composed kitchen lad appears at her side, carefully balancing a platter of glasses already filled with wine.  At Tarlin's astonished look, he shrugs.  "Someone already had a bottle open an' the cook figured we shouldn't waste it an' all," the lad explains.

 

Dany stands silently, discreetly twirling the ends of her belt through her fingers.  Peering over the heads of the entering important personages, she catches a glimpse of her former Weyrling Master, waving she takes a half-step forward before losing sight of Re'a, blushing she stays firmly where she is.

 

Sk'lar leans closer to Zhavia as he leads her into the caverns, "That's what they tell me. Gave me a knot and an office and everything." He flashes her a wink before continuing on. "No? Well, you left the hatching before I could show you my little, rather shy blue... named him Havian, Zhavia." Yes, there are some particular emphasis in a couple of those syllables, probably unnecessary emphasis. "

 

Aida hovers by the Crom Hold Steward, her appointed escort; he looks dreadfully bored at the proceedings and incessantly picks unseen specks off his shoulder lapels.  "The wine will be very fine indeed," she promises him nervously, gesturing at the lad with the tray of filled wineglasses.

 

B'ran lingers at the back, escorting one particularly young lady into the cavern before walking her to a chair, hand outstretched in that direction. His eyes dart toward the leaderish crowd, even as he pulls the lady's chair from its spot and waits behind it to push it in when the time arrives for such things. With a slight turn, he helps her into the chair by the lady's dainty hand, bowing deeply from the waist for a brush of lips upon her hand. In the din of conversation, his words do not carry to the ears of others. And he takes his leave of her to blend into the crowd, toward... another.

Some drudges arrive to cart Mathew off to bed.

 

K'no blushes when she uses the age-old nickname.  "Ah, Tartar, you know I'm just joking.  I could get a woman if'n I wanted."  He winks at her, then nods to the entering troupe.  "There's our guests of honor."  The brownrider glances down at the cook, but stays facing the Leaders.  He salutes Annie when she enter, as well as the lord and lady holder of Crom.  And even Aida gets a look while he's saluting them.  Of course, Sk'lar doesn't get one.  He drops his arm and clasps his hands behind his back as he spots the bronzer.

 

Re'a

Re'a is small for her age, standing barely a few inches over 5 feet. Her skin is tanned from spending lots of time outdoors, making her unusual eyes stand out even more in her small face. Unusual you say? How so? Well, the right eye is blue while the left is green.  A petite nose and a rosebud mouth finishes the look. Her hair is blond - bright yellow, rich gold, and a pale, almost white streaked together, each color blending into the next where it hangs down her back when not twisted up atop her head. She is no raving beauty, but her gentle and soft-spoken ways endure her to most all who meet her. Around her neck, usually half hidden within her clothing is a necklace, given as a gift.

She wears an elegant gown that evokes a haunting feeling of the ocean deep, with its many filmy tiers flowing and rustling down a clinging sheath in rich oceanic shades. Held up by thin straps, the shimmering blue-purple sheath dips low at the neckline in a shallow V. Tiers of soft, gauzy blue and green waves tumble down her gown, alive with motion, outlining and redefining her slender muscular shape. Each successive tier is a little darker than the one above, suggesting deeper and deeper waters. Slippers are dyed to match the darkest of tiers, the softsoled shoe dainty and comfortable. About her neck is a necklace of silver, a dark blue gem gleaming from a simple setting.  Around Re'a's neck hangs Tooth Necklace.

She refuses to wear her usual complicated knot that signifies her as Telgar Weyr's Weyrlingmaster these days, a simple knot threaded through with a green ribbon the only indication that she is a dragonrider at all. Meanwhile, a small badge can also be seen to show her status as a Journeywoman in the Harpercraft.

Her small size makes her look younger than her real age..

She is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.

Carrying:

 Skyskimmer Badge                        Finger Speech                        

 WindDancer Badge                        Winning Lotto Ticket                 

Dark, quiet and angry - she barely holds on to her emotions these days.

 

K'no

This tall mans angled face is topped by short, flaxen-colored hair that has been spiked up and combed into chunks, some falling forward over his forehead but never into his eyes. His cobalt eyes seem to never miss a single facet of his surroundings. Slightly pointed nose lies between his eyes and his thin lips that are generally bent into a cheerful smile, but on some occasions echo concentration or annoyance. Living several Turns under Rukbats rays in Igen have taken their toll on the mans skin tone, making it a dark bronze color. Yet, through the hardships of his life in Igen, a smile can still be generally found on his face, along with the wrinkles of stern determination. He retains the V-shaped torso and well-muscled form. Yet, even in his robust form, his age reflects itself on his features occasionally, as does the strain of being a rider.

Under the leather riding jacket is a white tunic. His riding pants, which are leather also, are tucked into heavy, leather riding boots. His jacket sleeves are tucked into the leather gloves, and a black belt is tied around his waist.

Upon K'no's shoulder languidly sits a near pristine knot of ebony and ivory. Double corded, double looped, with a little silver glittering tassel hanging down the middle. Brown string, more of soft mahogany is intertwined with said knot, which all in all signifies him as a Telgar Weyr Assistant Weyrlingmaster with a brown lifemate.

He is awake and looks alert.

Carrying:

 a simple sketch                                                              

Back at home and brandishing his new (old?) 'Skimmer's knot, K'no looks as happy as a VTOL in a rug.

 

Jiassae

Nutty browns come to life from the bark brown hair to the skin darkened to a tough mahogany from days spent in Rukbat's rays. Scraggling curls escape the carved bone clip to frame a face plain where a glitter of topaz sparkles from beneath bushy brows; spidery traces of wrinkles edge the corners of eyes while the sun's curse in freckles gather across the tip of a broad nose and thin, dry lips below. Her average height paints her a bit more buxom than acceptable, bosom and hips generously padded.

Dark hunter sisal crepe drapes elegantly over Jiassae's buxom form. The pantsuit is exquisitely tailored from the padded shoulders, to the wide flowing pants. A smooth shimmering creme chemise with a cowled, boat neckline is worn beneath, the silken sisal cool and light against her skin. Soft slippers dyed to match the suit is worn upon her feet. For once, the tough fisherwoman looks respectable, even if she's wearing pants!

A simple knot of black and white can be seen upon her shoulder identifying her as a resident of Telgar Weyr.

A fisherman's life has weathered her, making her appear older than she really is.

She is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.

Carrying:

 Kinaka

Good spirits abound all around!

 

Tarlin

Spikes of rich honeyed hair stand out from her head in an uneven nimbus, longer strands, weighted by their length, falling in clinging tendrils across pale golden features. Bright hazel orbs of tawny almond shade are set within a wide frame of slightly darker lashes, an occassional hint of verdant hue flashing in their depths. A splash of freckles washes chubby cheeks and bridges her pert nose between the impish arch of full brows. Pouting bowed lips complete the youthful visage while prominent cheekbones add maturity to her rounded face. Womanhood traces full curves upon her petite form, boosted by the padding formed of her love for food, the strength of dense musculature hidden beneath. Despite it all, she manages to move with the buoyancy of youth.

A fitted white tunic conforms to the full bloom of her curves, though not so tightly as to be obscene or uncomfortable. Mandarin collar leads into stiff fabric, buttoned up the front, long sleeves reaching her wrists, though they are most often rolled back to her elbows. Stiff-legged trous of the same white fabric drape across the leather of her boots and a white cap adorns her golden spikes in floppy cookly splendor.

 

She is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.

Carrying:

 Tarlin's Cot                                                                 

 

Dany

Wide spread doe-like eyes glimmer darkly, framed by thick midnight lashes above which dark arching brows extend. Pert button nose sits cutely above ripe rosy lips, often quirked into a smile revealing her darling dimples. Clipped locks of chocolate and mocha feather about her heart-shaped face in fae tumbling curls, that just fit under a riding cap. No longer hiden by mahoganey locks her elegant neck leads to lush curves heralding her femininity in the most beguiling way. Time spent in weyrling chores and looking after her life-mate have already whittled her frame to give her an almost angular apperance beneath her womanly curves. Gold kissed skin belays the hours she has spend under the warmth of Rukbat's rays.

The blood red material clings to the shifting curves of this active young person. The loose gown is joined at the shoulders and floats down to a narrow silver belt at her hips. It then continues to swirl around her shapely ankles. Occasionally the skirt reveals a split that exposes the leg to mid-thigh. Silver sandals lace in a criss-cross pattern up to her knees. In her hair she wears a red flower that matches her dress.

She wears the customary knot of a Telgari Wing Rider, white and black, with a single azure ribbon.

She is awake and looks alert.

Smiles are more apt to curl about her lips and let her dimples dance. Dark eyes sparkle, Seems someone is well and truely besotted

 

Riko enters behind the impressive entourage, heels clicking snappily on the stone floor. His icy eyes dart back and forth, inspecting the crowds attentively. He remains eternally near the Cromite Lord -- not on top of him, no, not hovering, but near enough to keep his eyes on Adrick at all times.

 

J'ak gladly escorts the young woman in, head leaning down as the two speak together, pausing as the rest of the group does just inside the entrance.  Nodding, he exchanges pleasantries, laughing lightly at something she says before moving off towards the table that's been set up with the fine linen and place settings.

 

Adrick smiles.  "Well, I really do not know how these things are supposed to go.   This is my first occassion like this as Crom's Lord.  Although, I suppose we could open the event with the Lord and Weyrwoman dancing?"   He's not thirsty, not yet, so he doesn't ask for any wine.

 

Zhavia rolls her eyes at Sk'lar, sliding close enough to nudge him with her elbow before stepping back to the proper distance. " Poor Telgar," she replies, her voice lightly mocking and filled with a faint humor. " Havian, hmm? How... charming." Shy indeed! " Well, knowing Skalar, he'll probably show up anyway. He's gaining quite a reputation for being outlandishly annoying about the Hold." She looks quite innocent about the whole thing, honest.

 

Ri has arrived.

 

Re'a looses herself in the crowd that presses forward to see the Lord Holder, her glass of wine emptied and exchanged for a new one as she walks by a resident with a tray. Perhaps, Annie hasn't noticed her just yet - she does look different in gathering finery rather than her usual leathers.

 

Dany watches the older riders for a moment, before mirroring their salute.  She's feeling a little gauche and inept right at the moment.  Once she has completed her salutes her fingers once more find her belt-ends, and they start twirling once more.

 

Annie's free hand flickers to her dress to straighten it, the offers Adrick a vague, absent smile -- seems the Weyrwoman is not completely there. "It'd be an honor to dance with you," she replies, "though I'll be honest I'm not too much of a dancer. I won't step on your feet, though."

 

Sk'lar clucks his tongue once, favoring Zhavia with quite the wolfish smile. "Really now? And he claimed you? Such a lucky lizard to be fed and cared for at your hand." And as if to punctuate his words, he moves to take Zhavia's hand and gently kiss the back of it. He just manages to catch Annie's words and adds rather loudly, "Watch out for her hands as well. They have a tendency to draw into fists."

 

Murmurs rise in the cavern, evaluating the fine raiment and well-groomed appearance of the guests, then trickling into other types of gossip at Sk'lar dancing attention upon Zhavia.

 

J'ak leaves the girl in her seat, and goes back to the group to gather a glass of wine. Can't miss the wine, ya know? That's the whole reason he's here afterall! That, and the company he shall find tonight in the young girl he's escorting around. Catching Sk'lar's words about the werywoman, he chuckles lightly, "As well you know, Weyrleader." Sk'lar /does/ sport a shiner to go with the bruise on his chin, right?

 

B'ran blends into rider upon rider in finery befitting the occassion, slipping behind each with a nod, his hands behind his back, shadow to light and back to shadow. Stopping then, just to the edge of the dance floor circle and behind the weyrwoman and Adrick, he pauses, chin lifting as his eyes drift from one nearby to another. If any glance his way, his chin barely tilts, bright blue eyes soft and attentive to the greeting. He smiles as the one he watches takes to the floor.

 

Ri enters the room, feeling just a bit awkward in her state of roundedness. A shy smile is offered to just about anyone who looks her way. Seems the pregnant rider's mood is on that side of the swing. Let's see how long it lasts.

 

Tarlin takes it all in stride, quickly recovering from her own surprise.  She gestures for the lad to distribute the glasses amongst the delegation and he shuffles forth, overwhelmed.  He lifts a glass, offering it to Adrick.  "S-s-s-sir?"  He opens his mouth to protest J'ak's unexpected swoop and snatch maneuver, then clamps it shut.

 

Annie nearly chokes on her next words as she catches an earful of what the Weyrleader has to say. Her cheeks flush and green eyes glint with a touch of anger, but she reins in her desire to give Sk'lar another black eye, and forces a smile. "I'm sorry, Lord Adrick, our Weyrleader is such a joker." By the tone of her voice, it sounds as if he will be a dead or seriously maimed joker very soon.

 

Asaelle arrives.

 

The other wineglasses are handed around -- to Weyrleaders, Lord Holder, and all in their party.  Aida takes one and passes the other to the Hold Steward, who looks decidedly suspicious of it.  "Are you sure that's good wine?" he snots.  "I've heard that Telgar's had difficulties acquiring anything worthy of a Lord Holder's palate, of late."  -- At which Aida merely sighs and stiffens the smile she's wearing.

 

K'no smirks at the Weyrleader and whispers to Tarlin, "If they get into it here--Faranath forbid--I've got two marks on Annie.  Whattya say, Tarlin?"  The rider chuckles and moves over to the wine tables again and refills his glass, taking sips of it as he returns to Tarlin's side.  "'E's got quite a shiner there, too, Tarlin.  Maybe you should teach 'em some manners before he looses a tooth?"  K'no snickers quietly and leans against a wall.  At that point he spots his wingleader and gives her a salute as well.

 

J'ak hears the Steward, and takes a small sip of one of the glasses he's carrying. "Ah, yes, fine Benden Cross. You'll find nothing better, trust me!" This is all said in aside to the old man before the bronzer steps off to the side to deliver the other glass to the girl he was escorting, causing her to giggle with shy appreciation at his attentiveness.

 

Summersett goes home.

 

Annie gratefully takes the wineglass, clutching in a bit too tightly with white-knuckled hands. "Perhaps a glass of wine before the dancing?" she queries Adrick, truly /forcing/ her temper into control.

 

Adrick chuckles softly.   "I am not at all worried.   In fact, you should possibly be more worried for Sk'lar's sake.   Zhavia can take care of herself."   He catches Riko's eye, his hand hovering over a glass of wine.  

 

Other servers circulate through the cavern, topping up glasses and mugs in anticipation of the imminent toast.  Wine, spirits, juice and klah flow freely with no accident, though there are odd moments when a stray elbow or arm almost tips someone's drink over.

 

Ri hestates over the wine, surely one galss wouldn't hurt her? But a glare from a passing healer stops her and she accepts a glass of chilled juice instead. Spying Re'a in the mix, she makes her way to the WLM. "I see this event even brought you out. How are you doing, anyway?" Concerned look crossing her face.

 

Asaelle shuffles into a spot a bit away from the action, and sips silently on her cider.  She didn't know, well, anyone!  and was content to just mingle, or, sit in a corner and listen to everyone.  Hmm, yes, that sounded like a good idea to her.  A cookie is nabbed from a tray, and she nibbles in lightly.

 

B'ran's eyes narrow at the boisterous cattle call the weyr's leader pitches into the ring of dancers. Leaning into  a nearby drudge, he places one hand about his neck, the lad's head dipping forward toward the tray he carries before his head nods and the rider pats the boy's back before he places the tray down and disappears. Awaiting the opportune moment, he leans toward Annie and whispers.

 

Riko sidles silently up to Adrick as the wine is passed around, and delicate fingers pluck the wineglass before the Lord can take it. Swiftly, the young man takes a considerable sip of the wine, swishes it in his mouth, then nervously swallows. He waits for a moment, licks his lips, then shakes his head. "It seems fine to me, my Lord."

 

Re'a turns and finds Ri at her side, her gaze traveling over the greenrider's stomach. "Oh no, not even Annie's curfew could keep me away from /this/." A sip of the wine is taken before she looks to the group as the glasses of wine are passed around, then back to Ri. "And you? How are you doing these days?"

 

Tarlin just smiles and nods, though if it were possible to insult the Steward without causing an incident, she probably would.

 

You overhear B'ran whisper "... ... some ... ... ... ... ... stores. ... would ... ... ... if you ... ... ... ... ... ... your guests?"  to Annie.

 

Sk'lar is handed a glass of vintage as well by someone or another. As the liquid sloshes with, he holds a hand out and towards the stage, waving it about in a sushing maneuver -obviously looking for quiet. "A toast perhaps?" As he waits for the speaking and music to die down, he flickers a glance to the others, glass raising. "To this momentous occasion. May Telgar Weyr and Crom Hold always come together in harmony as we are today. With leadership like ours..." *cough* "... may we /live/ in prosperity forever."

 

The harpers fall silent at Sk'lar's request, the melody twirling to a cascading end as the crowd awaits the Weyrleader's words.

 

Asaelle grins and raises her cider glass to that, though she doubts anyone notices, being in the corner and all.  But she /liked/ the corner!  Cider is sipped, and the cookie nibbled as her eyes scan the crowd.  Anyone she knows? Not likely?  Any one she should talk to?  Hmm, not tonight.

 

Annie's murky green eyes catch Riko's sampling of the wine, and a small frown falls across her features. "Was that really necessary, Lord Adrick?" she asks in the softest of voices. "I assure you all we have to offer is not only of the best quality, but completely safe." She turns to hear B'ran's offer, and nods with a little smile. "That would be greatly appreciated, B'ran. You can have a drudge take it to our table, perhaps, for the dinner? It would go well with the menu." But then Sk'lar has proposed the toast, and she begrudgingly raises her glass to the Weyrleader's words.

 

"Hear, hear!"  Aida echoes Sk'lar's toast, and other weyrfolk take up the call.  She raises her glass promptly, while the Steward beside her reluctantly follows the Weyrleader's lead, and it's with great relief that she gulps down a good half a glassful of the wine before the toast is done.

 

E'ur walks into Main Living Cavern.

 

Dany watches the delegation, sighing slightly.  A wine-glass is captured deftly as a drudge bearing a tray of such things whisks his way past her.  Moving deeper into the ranks of the riders she sidles closer to Re'a and Ri.  "Evening Ri, Re'a"  She greets before taking a sip of her beverage and turning her eyes towards the Weyrleader and raising her glass.

 

K'no smirks at raises his glass to honor the toast and says, "Hear, hear!"  He'll take any excuse to drink wine.  Really, though, why not?  The rider brings the glass to his lips--mainly to refrain from commenting on the last part of Sk'lar's toast--and takes a pull of the wine.

 

Ri says, "Busy, surprisingly busy.." As someone makes mention of a toast, she turns to face the crowd of people and politely waits to hear Sk'lar make a.. well, she listens. "Glad you came, anyway... since the Weyr Steward insisted on Hunter's help tonight."

 

J'ak raises his glass, as he and several other riders give hearty whistles and cheers.  Downing the glass of wine, he sighs happily before a young lad is there to refill it from a wine again, winking at the young lady at his side. Good company, good wine, and even music - the evening can't get any better! Well, it could, but that might come later - if he gets his way.

 

Tarlin takes in Sky's shiner with a slight flush of her cheeks.  She shakes her head at K'no, the gesture a silent bid for the brownrider to be quiet.  She stands to once side of the delegation in wait, smiling, pride shining through once more, this time for her weyrmate.  When the toast is complete, she nods to the group.  "If you would follow me, please?  Dinner should be ready."

 

Riko's ever-vigilant eyes catch sight of J'ak winking in what seems to be his direction, and with a flattered smile, the Crom Lord's assistant winks back saucily.

 

Adrick takes the glass that Riko has tasted, twirling the stem in his fingers as he listens to Sk'lar's toast.  He then calls out.  "hear, hear."  As he raises his glass, before taking a long sip from it.   A sad smile appears on his face as he turns to the Weyrwoman.   "I'm afraid so, Weyrwoman.   I fear that my confirmation to the post of Crom's Lord has made me a target for some dissidents."  This last is whispered, for Annie's ears only.

 

Sk'lar gaze flickers over the rim of his wine glass, watching the others of the party with something close to a very smug grin. As he takes a long drink from the glass, his eyes track over towards Annie, somehow managing to look even more smug, if that is at all possible. At Tarlin's words, he nods his head heavily, opening arms wide as if to usher the entire group towards the tables as well. "Shall we then?"

 

Aida has finished her glass of wine before the group proceeds to the high table.  She fobs it off on a passing server, then smiles too brightly at the Crom Steward.  "I'm sorry if it's not to your taste, but it is quality wine," she demurs while the Steward scowls at his glass.  "If you'd like to speak to a vintner about it -- "

 

B'ran nods to Annie, lifting one finger in the air as the lad returns, pointing toward the head table, He nods curtly at the young drudge, off to do whatever it is that must be, before turning his cerulean gaze upon those near the weyrwoman, one head at a time, that pointing finger slipping back into the other hand at his back as if it were always there. Most notable? He drinks not a drop, shaking his head and nodding his silent thanks as wine is offered his way. B'ran, just behind Annie, raises a brow at the weyrleader's words, catching the flicker of smug on Sk'lar's face just beyond. His eyes narrow.

 

Annie leans to murmur to Adrick, "No harm will befall you here, you have my assurance." At Tarlin's invitation, she moves toward the splendedly bedecked head table, still managing to affix a cold glare upon Sk'lar as she moves. There's more black eyes where that one he has now came from. She sips her wine as she moves.

 

Re'a laughs lightly, her glass raised as the toast is given before taking a long sip of her wine. Turning back, she nods in understanding. "I see. I guess Hunter is rather busy with all the preparation that went into tonight. " Still, she keeps just out of sight of the weyrwoman, seeming to keep a few people between she and the goldrider - not that she doesn't want Annie to know she's ignoring the curfew tonight.

 

Asaelle settles back and watches the crowd.  Not a bad night at all!  good food, good, well, cider, interesting people.  Asaelle shuffles in her sack and withdraws a few hides, and a small ink bottle and pen, finding this an interesting opportunity to do some sketches, or take some notes about, well, people!  This was, after all, quite an event.

 

E'ur walks in slowly, face a bit red on one side from getting some sleep atop the hides in the offices. He's a little late and manages to sneak into the back. Wingleader attempts to find a place among a table, the empty ones seem filled, so he just finds a drudge to bring a glass of wine and... annoyed would best describe it... as he looks at the Weyrleader.

 

E'ur

Burning fire of bright red colors seem to brighten the rest of the man's body, being his most prominent feature that he has. Within the flames of red there seems to be hidden 'mongst them sparks of golden blonde that dash the very tips of his curls, mystically dyed by the shining sun. Hair has been sheered to utmost shortness for weyrling hood, revealing his blonde eyebrows. He has a pair of light cyan eyes, almost pale colors that darkened down to sea-blue once they engulf the midnight pupil of his eyes. The shape of his eyes are large and oval-shaped that sparkle with even the littlest of light and seem always deep in thought and gathers information from their surroundings. His face has slimmed down to a thin circle squeezed in at the sides to show slightly his cheekbones, very slightly. A clef cuts into his chin, which is almost always raised giving himself a little more importance to the features of his body. His face and most of his body has also a golden tint to it, healthily and much more tan than his before pale look though it won't tan any deeper than the light bronzen color. Still his size remains to be shorter than normal, but his arms have gained quite a bit of muscle.

E'ur always wears the finest clothes that the best marks could buy, /only/ from the best of the Master Weavers. The clothes seem to announce that the man is of very important stature and he deserves the upmost respect. A fine tunic, a darkened navy blue which matches the deep colors swirling in his eyes, made of the best sisal in the South. Around him sometimes is worn a black scarf, made of wool from the best llamas from the Main Beastcrafthall, perfect for the colder weather of Telgar. A pair of pants that are soft and comfortable, almost like pajamas in which someone would go to bed in, made of a smooth wherhide and a mixture of clothes on the inside for comfort. His pants are kept a bleached white, completely clean and never /ever/ creased. On his beautiful toes seems to be a pair of white moccassins, to match his pants and made of the same material, cushioned and giving him a little more height than normal.

E'ur wears a knot freshly made and starched to fit on his shoulder. It is made of a double cord, one of ebony and the other of bleach white, with silver thread entwined within the cord. A single loop and a long tail denote the man a wingrider at Telgar Weyr. A mahagony brown ribbon also sneaks itself into the knot, rider of brown Pirsath.

He is awake and looks alert.

Ego-levels have been recharged with a new Wingleader's knot but the question still remains... why is Ri following him?

 

Adrick follows Annie towards the head table.  "I shall endeavor to keep that in mind."   After a private word to Riko to keep his tasting more subtle, and less overt.   "Everything looks wonderful.   And the food smells absolutely.....scrumptious."

 

Asaelle

Waves of coppery hair fall to her waist, wishing gently just above her lithe, and narrow hips. A few strands frame her oval, face, accentuating her murky green eyes. Her form is lithe, but not tall, almost as if she's not done filling out, and her figure is more straight, than curvey. Her nose is small, but strong, with a smattering of freckles over the bridge, while her lips are thin, and pale.

Asaelle is currently wearing a thin rust colored tunic, rope belt, cream breeches, and soft ankle-high 'hide boots.

She is awake and looks alert.

 

Ri nods, "Yes, as much as I like him having a real position, it does interfere with our time together." Eyes glaze over slightly as E'ur arrives, a stiff nod to the wingleader, but no words. No need to say a thing. "J'ak seems to be enjoying himself... Is that his third or fourth glass of wine?"

 

Tarlin smiles at K'no as she brushes past, apology in the glance, then turns her attention back to her duty.  She stands to one side, waiting for the delegation to seat themselves, then nods emphatically enough for the kitchen assistant stationed at the entrance to the kitchens to see.  Like clockwork, a troop of residents, dressed in white, emerge from the kitchens in trios: one carefully balancing a large tureen of soup, another brandishing a ladle, and a third burdened with enough shallow bowls for his or her assigned table.  The bowl-bearer leading the way, each guest is ladled a bowl full of creamy potato leek soup with a sprinkling of parsley and chives.

 

Aida guides the Crom Steward towards the high table, propelling the older man ahead of her with a peculiar urgency which he seems not to notice as he's busy frowning at his wine.  As the Weyrsecond passes a table, there's a small guffaw from some former wingriders, but she silences them with a dark glare, finally depositing the Steward at his assigned seat and claiming her own with mute relief.

 

K'no nods to Tarlin as she brushes past, then seeks out Ri and approaches her.  Not near enough to ignite a conversation, but near enough to spot her descent at the head of the 'Skimmer's table.  He drinks from his glass to pass the time, looking at the others and especially watching the weyrleader/woman with a bemused eye.

 

Asaelle shifts a bit, finding her cider mug empty, she weaves her way through the crowd in the, hopefully, correct direction.  A few bumps, followed by some mumbled 'sorries' are given as she snakes her way through the thick crowd.  At least there seemed to be air circularion...maybe.  No matter, cider tray is spotted, along with one sporting little pasteries.  Asaelle nabs a few of them, and decides to stand here and find unsuspecting people to chat at.

 

B'ran follows, just behind the weyrwoman, nodding with a courteous smile to Re'a as he passes by, then to Aida as he passes her. Beyond, at the high table, the lad B'ran had sent off barely has time to retire from the table, leaving something covered in fine cloth in a chilling pot upon the table, its open end steaming silently. A second set of wine glasses sit at each spot of the high table, filled to the precise level ettiquete requires with a clear, full-bodied white wine. Neither intrusive nor hurried, the holder's son turn bronzer waits until those who would sit do so, then stands just behind, eyes darting about smoothly.

 

Annie nods proudly to Adrick. "We have some of the best cooks on Pern." She moves to sit at the head table with the other leaders of Crom and Telgar, taking a long swig of wine before she sets her glass down. Then, she clinks a utensil against her wineglass and stands: "Telgar Weyr!" she begins in a carrying voice. "It is my distinct pleasure as your Weyrwoman to introduce Lord Adrick of Crom Hold." One slender hand gestures toward the man at her side. "This meal is in honor of him, a celebration of many turns of goodwill between Hold and Weyr, turns of goodwill that will continue for generations to come!" Oh, but she's an exaggerated speaker. "Lord Adrick, do you have any words for Telgar Weyr?" she queries, sitting again.

 

Dany exhales as she makes her way to the 'Skimmer table, not quite recognising its fancified self.  Selecting a seat she offers a shy smile to her not-quite-familiar wing-mates and waits for Ri to find her seat.  "Smells good"  She murmurs quitely to the rider beside her, conversation is good too.

 

Ri nods tot he others of her wing and sits.. "I commend you all for your politeness and appearance here tonight. You all do your wing proud." She is not one to spare the compliments when earned. Or ignore the need to deliver the other side of her tongue when it's called for. "Now, please, sit, and enjoy the meal."

 

Sk'lar escorts Zhavai into a seat, pulling it out for her her and such with a wide smile. As he moves over to take his own seat, he hesitates as Annie starts banging on the dinnerware and howling across the room. He moves to stand once more, watching her with a bemused eye although his smile to the cavern at large is absolutely beaming. 

 

Re'a nods, then moves off to sit with the others at the 'skimmer table after the toasts have been cheered on, and the delegation heads for the high table. Slipping into a seat, her gaze turning back to J'ak. "I think that was his second or so, but I could be wrong." Don't even ask her how many she's had.

 

Annie pointedly ignores Sk'lar, focusing her attention instead upon her wineglass, which she sips slowly.

 

J'ak gives a hearty cheer for the Weyrwoman's words as she speaks, then takes a sip of his wine afterwards, his head turned to see what the Lord Holder has to say in reply. At a quiet question from the girl beside him, he leans over to listen to her question, laughing at something she says.

 

K'no plops down in one of the chairs nearer to the head of the Skimmer's table and sets his glass down.  "Oh, Ri, don't be silly.  It's not like we had anything better to do tonight.  'Sides, it's an honor to be here."  And the brownrider wants to witness some of this rock-'em-sock-'em Leader action he's been hearing about.

 

Zhavia nods her thanks to Sk'lar, an ironic smile on her lips as she settles into the chair, placing her half-drunk wine glass upon the table. Fingers fold together in her lap and she casts a quick glance at Adrick, nodding slightly at Riko's efforts before turning her attention to Annie, one eyebrow raised. But she does nod slightly, settling back in her chair and waiting for Adrick's response.

 

E'ur seems slow to react to anything. A nod is offered toward Ri, stiff as  not to show any thought either way. Brownrider then finds a spot at the head of the Dawnrunner table, which he is looked at by A'lis with a slight dissatisfaction at his lateness. Cyan eyes swirl upon Adrick distractedly, quietness has overcome the wingleader.

 

Adrick stands beside Annie, at his place at the table.  "I have two things to say."   He looks at the gathered, Holder and Rider alike.  "First, I'd like to thank Telgar Weyr for this banquet.  It is above and beyond anything I expected, and I hope this is the first of many things that brings my Hold and the Weyr closer together."   He pauses for a moment, turning to watch Zhavia be seated, before continuing.   "Now, as many of you know, I was confirmed to Hold without a wife or male offspring.   It is a problem that the other Lords Holder are pressuring me to correct.   And so, tonight, on this evening of friendship between Hold and Weyr, I would like to make it known that I have chosen a Lady."

 

Riko touches a drudge's arm lightly as she moves to serve Adrick his food. Before she can give the Lord the plate, Riko takes it and goes through his process: sniff the food, poke it with a fork for hidden objects, and finally, a small sample of each dish is slowly chewed and swallowed by the teenaged assistant. This done, the food is approved, and set before the Lord.

 

Dany slinks with a swish of her hips toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.

 

Ri headswivels at Lord Holder's announcement.. Oh? Romance is in the air, it seems. Gee, wonder who, huh? But she hides her smirk and waits for the formal announcement, juice lifted to finish the announcement with a toast.

 

Once the soup is served, the troop returns to the kitchens, the once bowl-laden taking up residence at the end of each table to remove bowls when needed.

 

Attentive though she is, Aida can't disguise her surprise at Lord Adrick's announcement, nor does she restrain herself from glancing at Zhavia, though the pesky Hold Steward gets in her way.  Toying with a new wineglass, she leans forward, trying to see Adrick and Zhavia more clearly, without falling off her chair.

 

J'ak finds himself sitting next to Zhavia, and the bronzer, ever the ladies man, gives her a welcoming smile before turning to listen to Adrick. Ah, he's made his choice? Anyone wanna make a bet who it might be? Hazel eyes turn towards the woman he sits beside - the older one, not the younger giggling thing on the other side of him.

 

Asaelle finds a seat towards the back, and glances around a bit.  As the food is served, she waits for the obviouse leaders to start, and then begins herself.  It was pretty good, she had to admit, and with her cider--can't part from the cider!--it looked to be a nice evening after all

 

Sk'lar stands quietly behind his chair beside that of Annie's, hands gently resting upon the back of it. He turns his gaze upon that of Adrick, listening quietly as the Lord Holder speaks. His words garner a slow grin from the bronzer, but that is all.

 

Zhavia pauses with her wine glass touched to her lips, startlement showing in her eyes, and a faint hint of panic. She takes a rather large swallow, reducing the liquid in her glass to a fourth, before placing it firmly on the table between her and J'ak. Eyes flicker to Adrick, wary and perhaps a bit puzzled, but there's a faint hint of dawning realization. No fool is she, but wary all the same.

 

E'ur coughs a bit on his wine, looking from Zhavia to Adrick, a raised eyebrow traveling before attempting to focus back on the wine. Eyes divert to Sk'lar who recieves a more than upset stare... eeevil stare.

Annie smirks a bit at Adrick's announcement. She is smug. She knew it was coming. Adrick is lucky. He can /choose/ who he leads with. Annie cannot choose. Annie gets stuck with teenaged hooligans by the sheer evil will of fate.

 

Tarlin's gaze immediately goes to Zhavia's form at Adrick's announcement.  She smiles, the tenor of it reminded her of her own bond, and her attention is drawn towards the newly knotted Weyrleader.  Even if she can't join them, she can still beam with pride from where she stands.

 

K'no is oblivious to this choice.  He's never seen the Lord holder nor Zhavia in his life and probably won't ever again.  So he sits there at his table, drinking his wine and wondering what in blazes everyone's staring at.

 

B'ran stands quietly behind the head table, his hands still behind his back. Glancing toward his own Wingleader, E'ur, he barely pauses, noting the man's quietude before passing his gaze to the next. He alters this routine only when one drudge tries to pass between he and the Weyrleaders, the arm nearest lifting to block the  drudge and dismiss him to go around with a quick jerk of his head. Then his eyes  dart back down toward those still sitting at the table, the smug weyrwoman, and the hooligan.

 

Riko suddenly looks a bit ill. But no, it's not the food: it's the Lord's announcement.

 

Adrick pauses for a moment, to let that bit of information sink in, before continuing.  "So.....it all comes down to this."  He leaves his seat, to walk down the table.   "I can say I've chosen, but unless the Lady does the same, my choise is for naught."   He starts to kneel down next to Zhavia, asking.  "Zhavia, of Ista Hold.   Will you be my Lady?"   And yes, there's a ring.

 

Re'a raises an eyebrow at the announcement, waiting on baited breath with everyone else as they wait for Adrick to speak the Lady-to-be's name. Not that anyone hasn't guessed by now who it is.  Still, there's a few out there who can be heard to whisper to their neighbor, "Wander who it is?"

 

Ri ahhhhs, tears in her eyes.. he can give a ring, share promises and actually take vows.. How utterly sweet and romantice. Not, as she is nudged in her mind, that she would change places. Now if only she knew that Hunter was the daddy...

 

J'ak gives a shudder after Adrick makes his announcement, reaching out for a glass of wine, and taking Zhavia's discarded one by mistake. Downing it, he places it back on the table before turning to watch the Lord Holder get down on one knee. Dude, don't do it! She'll ruin your life for good if she accepts! Aww, man - another bites the dust.

 

Sk'lar gently begins to tap his fingers on the back of his chair, quietly. He watches as Adrick moves towards Zhavia, smile growing more wry at the action and then the kneeling. This earns quite the grin from the weyrleader, and causes him to flicker a glance over towards a certain cook, naturally.

 

Still disappointed by Adrick's announcement, Riko attempts to catch J'ak's eye with a meaningful stare.

 

Zhavia has regained her composure as she rises from her chair, looking down at the kneeling Lord with her heart in her eyes. There's no question of the answer from this Istan daughter, but she has some sense of the dramatic. " My Lord, I- I don't know what to say." A hint of teasing enters her eyes, but she can't hold out. " Of course I'll be your Lady, Adrick."

 

Re'a sighs just a little as the Lord Holder makes his announcement, then gets down on a knee and offers the ring. Aww... how romantic indeed. Someone take her ::between:: right now? Rolling her eyes just a bit, she turns away, holding her glass out to a passing wine server for a refill.

 

Aida tilts her glass speculatively, her expression fading into utter blankness at the Lord Holder's announcement and Zhavia's acceptance.  The Weyrsecond's gaze drifts towards the crowded tables of partygoers, not even registering the irritated mutterings of the Hold Steward sitting beside her.

 

E'ur watches the Lord Holder with a confused stare. With all the knowledge of being a Holder from Benden, he ponders the reasons for marrying and shrugs it off. The brownrider then goes back to watching the scene as a whole, mumbling a few things to the drudge and refilling his wine glass.

 

K'no snickers very quietly at the kneeling man.  Women'll do you in, every time.  But he keeps his mouth shut and drinks some more of his wine.  The rider looks over at J'ak, noticing his movements, and then to Riko, who'se complexion catches his eye.  Huh.

 

Tarlin bites her lower lip as her grin threatens to split her face, the muscles in her cheeks aching with it.  Blinking her own unexpected tears from her eyes, she sweeps the caverns and is delighted to find that her assistants have hurriedly offered wine to each and every guest.  She takes her own glass as a drudge wanders past and steps forth.  Into the silence, she calls, "To Adrick and Zhavia.  May their days be many, and their lives joyous."  Hip hip huzzah! echoes in the crack of her voice.

 

Asaelle becomes still and quiet at this announcment.  Well, very interesting night indeed!  What other secrets, and suprises were instore.  Asaelle becomes misty eyed, maybe a bit sappy even, but it turns over as she sips her cider, and her stomach gives a silent, but distinct, rumble.  Food now, misty eyes later.

 

J'ak gets a refill of his wine, then shakes his head at Adrick as Zhavia accepts his proposal. Oh well, he tried to warn him. Not for him - this bronzer will stay as free as can be, for as long as he can. No woman will ever tie this man down!

 

But what about a good man, J'ak?

 

Ri aims a well placed foot toward K'no from under the table. If he can't behave, she will ask him to just leave. This wingleader happens to think it's a wonderful moment.

 

Tarlin's spontaneous toast is carried by some of the others sitting around her, holdfolk and weyrfolk alike joining their voices in well wishes to the Lord Holder and his newly betrothed.  Even servers pause in their duties, the cavern gradually erupting in warm applause and encouraging cheers.

 

Annie, still sipping broodily at her wine, offers her own well-wishes to the Lord and Lady-to-be. "Congratulation. I look forward to attending the ceremony," she smiles to them. And she raises her glass in a toast, finishing her wine, then waves a drudge over to refill her wine.

 

K'no jumps as he's kicked and glares around the table.  The man doesn't place the evil foot-flogging, but he does hear the cry from Tarlin and raises his glass.  Yet another reason to empty the glass.  This might not be such a bad night, after all.  K'no downs the wine and sets the glass down.

 

The harper's aren't to be outdone and as the toasts come to an end, and people settle down just a little, the band strikes up a happy little tune. If one isn't hungry, they are more than free to dance. Otherwise, there's plenty to eat tonight! And, the rumor is, the fish is to die for!

 

The toast completed and the wine drank, Tarlin signals her helpers with a nod and the bowl-bearers remove the remaining bowls, followed by another wave of white-clad residents, again in trios.  One bears a platter of fresh redfish, pan fried in lemon and just a touch of butter.  The second carries a platter of lightly breaded, oven-roasted, boneless, skinless wherry, wrapped in thinly sliced, salt-cured ham and filled with cheese and just a touch of rosemary.  The third holds aloft a platter of juice red herdbeast marinated with red wine, garlic, and pepper, and spit-roasted.  Each guest is offered a choice between the three, or a little bit of more than one, while the last server informs the guests that there is a creamy horseradish sauce available upon request to complement the herdbeast.

 

Riko sidles J'ak-wards and murmurs under his breath, voice feathery soft, "It's a pity, isn't it, to loose such a catch, eh?" For some reason poor Riko assumes J'ak is responding to /Adrick/ getting taken.

 

Adrick smiles, stands, and finds himself at a complete loss for words as his arms wrap tightly around Zhavia, holding her close.   "I love you."  Is said, then he releases her, his face...well, red as a beet.  "Um....perhaps...we'd...better eat now?"

 

B'ran speculates silently, no other outward sign of his musing but a furrow of brow and a darting glance toward those who would pass near the spectacle mid-table. His eyes dart to the drudge who would refill the wine and he stops him, pointing to the caraffe chilling on the table. the drudge nods, takes the wine from the pot, and refills the weyrwoman's glass with the undisclosed vintage. As the servers near, he watches each closely, not allowing any of them to linger long near the hosts and guests of honor.

 

E'ur nods along as he seems surprisingly to comply, "Many days to the Lord." The brownrider takes a sip at his wine and seems to show a face of distaste. "Who would ever drink this stuff?" He says to himself as he sends the drudge off with the half-filled wine glass and the wingleader recieves some juice. Then back to watching the crowd.

 

J'ak glances up from his wine as Riko skitters close, his easy-going nature allowing him to laugh and nod, "Aye, such a waste it is." Now, whether or not he speaks about loosing the chance to give Zhavia a whirl, or the fact that another man looses his freedom and becomes shackled, is hard to say.

 

Sk'lar applauds as well, moving back around behind Annie and towards the two newly engaged Holders. "I don't think I've ever seen such a request for a handfasting so well done. That was a fine job." He moves as if to give Adrick a pat on the back before bobbing his head towards Zhavia. "Congratulations to you both and you have my.. and obviously Telgar's best wishes for your long future together."

 

The servers at the high table are prompt with their offerings, but Aida seems disinterested in the various meats they lay on her plate; in contrast, the Steward greedily demands seconds before he's even tasted anything.  When the servers have moved on, Aida pokes idly at her food with a fork, but she seems to be largely meditating upon the state of the tablecloth's edge.  It's just as well Crom's Lord and soon-to-be Lady aren't turning to her to expect congratulations.

 

Another swarm of white-clad residents emerge into the living caverns, this time in pairs: one with a large bowl of wild rice cooked with wherry broth, and one with an equally large bowl of spinach tortellini in a light cream sauce.  The guests are once again offered their choice of either or a little bit of both, then a helping is spooned onto their plate, leaving room for the next side.

 

Moving her hands as well, Ri beams and as quickly, sighs.. little streaks wending their way down her face.. sharding hormones! Now is not the time for tears.. A cheer at the toast and a sip of the juice, did Tarlin say fish?

 

Tarlin seethes excitement as she watches the assembled, expecially those at the head table, for a reaction to the food.  For every person who simply picks at their food, her smile fades for a moment with a hint of real worry.

 

Zhavia laughs softly, returning Adrick's hug before stepping back. " I love you too," is murmured, soft enough that only those close by can hear, before she squeezes his hands. " I think, my Lord, that might be best." Eyes glow, face glows... she glows, with happiness, but there's still that faint hint of worry that seems to surround her always. A glance at the server, and she requests the wherry, then the rice, and nods to her Lord. " Later," she promises softly. " Now, let us do our hosts the honor of enjoying this wonderous feast." Sk'lar, for once, is given the benefit of the doubt and a bright smile.

 

Annie seems to grow more and more annoyed with her Weyrleader with each word he speaks, but in the interest of making a good impression, she keeps a faint, forced smile on her lips, and continues to carefully work away at her delicious meal.

 

Riko offers J'ak a coy little smile and wink, then notices food being served and bustles back to sample Lord Adrick's food, approving each dish as it passes his inspection.

 

The third and final wave of the main course descends upon the living caverns, again with pairs.  One offers a side of green beans and sliced almonds with a hint of butter and garlic.  The other offers boiled red potatoes with shredded chives in a light cheese sauce.  Both are served to each guest, unless one requests otherwise.  As the others return to the living caverns, one again remains behind to clear plates when needed.

 

Adrick nods, leaving Zhavia's side reluctantly, to return to his seat next to Annie, a huge smile on his face.  "Weyrwoman."  He says, before lifting a fork and starting in on his food. 

 

Asaelle goes home.

 

As the food circulates and the excitement dies down from Crom's announcement, the harpers segue into a song with a more upbeat tempo, suitable for dancing or just for tapping one's feet along with it.  Some spirited youngsters spring onto the dance floor, having waited too long for this opportunity, and lead away with a festive flair.

 

K'no peers into his empty glass and puts it down, then pushes it away to allow more elbow room.  He puts both elbows on the table, puts his chin on his hands and starts chitchatting with a wingmember across from him.  The wingrider rolls her eyes and ignores K'no.  The man shrugs and mumbles something about a loss and leans his chair back a little.

 

Carid has arrived.

 

Re'a pokes at the offered meal, taking a few bites of the fish, then the wherry, then the fish again. Not much of an appietite really - must be all that wine she's had. Smiling to a friend, she waves to the young man before taking another bite of the meal.

 

E'ur was hoping for a little boxing later today, as a faint smirk travels to Annie and then back to his quietness. A look at the drudge with distaste, and being the rude one here the wingleader murmurs another thing to the drudge who leaves for the kitchens. Coming back the young boy carries a small bowl of stew to replace the meal. The wine he had was bad (In the Eurish mind of course), so what says the food won't be.

 

Why is it that everyone tends to question every word that comes out of Sk'lar's mouth? He returns back to his seat, leaning towards Annie as he moves to take his seat. He murmurs, possibly low enough not to be caught by many over the noise of the dinner crowd, "Fine evening, is it not? Although if you continue to smile like that so, I'm afraid you might just burst a vessel. Hate to disrupt the proceedings." And with that, he plops down into his seat.

 

Zhavia smiles after Adrick and resumes her seat, gazing at the food upon her plate, which is soon joined by the potatoes. Once the serving is finished, she begins to eat, though her appitite seems overwhelmed by the surprise of the evening, and she merely nibbles at the food before her, clearly enjoying.

 

Annie nods to Adrick as he returns to his seat. "Congratulations, Lord," she says to him quietly. "I'm sure you two have many happy turns ahead of you." She takes a bite of her beans, but her eyes narrow slightly at Sk'lar's words. She hisses out of the corner of her mouth at him, "Shut up if you know what's good for you, boy."

 

Adrick smiles.   "Thank you, Weyrwoman."  He says in response, before adding.  "And this food is absolutely devine.   Your cooks have outdone themselves.   My compliments."

 

Carid has been hidden among the guests all along.  Really.  The brownrider can be found amongst of a small clutch of fellow Dawnrunners, enjoying the food before her with a typically healthy appetite and a faint smile for the various happenings of the evening.

 

For all that Aida's been poking at her food, the quantity on her plate hasn't diminished much.  "Excuse me," she murmurs to the Hold Steward as she gets up for a minute, toting her wineglass with her.  Circling around the rear of the high table, she interposes herself beside Sk'lar, refilling her glass from a carafe while offering sotto voce to the Weyrleader, "Play nice.  It's just one night."

 

Ri would eat, but as suddenly as everything lately, she isn't hungry. So her fish is ignored and she waits politely for the next course, maybe some vegetables instead. Now, greens and almonds appeals and she takes a serving of those instead.

Riko has disconnected.

 

K'no pokes at the food on his plate that's just been put before him and he pops a little bit into his mouth.  He chews thoughtfully.  Well, he wasn't really too hungry, but he'll eat if neccesarry.  It is good.  The rider munches on his food quietly, watching Sk'lar and Annie from one corner of his eyes and watching Ri out of the other corner.  He gets the feeling she's the one who played a rough game of footsie with him earlier.

 

J'ak doesn't seem to completely understand just what Riki is getting at, and instead, turns back to his meal, eating with gusto everything that is served him while speaking with the young lady at his right.  As the music starts, he looks to his companion, then motions towards the dance floor. With another giggle, the girl accepts, and the pair heads off for the floor, the bronzerider leading her in a merry dance.

 

Tarlin takes note of what is popular, a drudge coming up to confirm her own numbers.  She smiles slightly, her gaze seeking out Jiassae in the crowd.  She'll have to tell the young woman how well her fish was received.  Her sweeping gaze catches E'ur's gesture and she scowls.  With a glance at the main table to be sure that everything is going well enough there, she heads towards the Dawnrunner table.  "Is everything going okay over here?" she inquires, pointedly looking at E'ur.

 

Lina has arrived.

 

Sk'lar leans back in his seat, beginning to patron the food on his plate. In the middle of bites and the proverbial chewing and swallowing, he glances back to Annie, murmuring with just enough faux petulance, "Yes, mother." As Aida approaches him, the bronzer glances over to the Weyrsecond, "Hrm? I'm sorry.. what was that?" He blinks owlishly to Aida, the hint of a deliberately teasing grin tickling at the corners of his lips.

 

Lina has become famous for walking into special events late. And it doesn't matter that she's from another weyr, for she has another purpose. Harper /and/ Wing business. It's amazing. She moves tover to Re'a quickly. Quietly, she mentions "Hey there, cousin." she says, bright smile, offering a hug. She's quiet about it though, not to distract from the events.

 

Aida just shakes her head at Sk'lar, fiddling with the carafe in the meantime.  "You won't lose anything tonight by being nice to her," she advises while tipping the carafe over her glass once more, "and you'll gain everything for yourself, and the Weyr.  Play nice."

 

B'ran watches the E'ur tirade with some interest, the drudge, the fetching of soup, the distaste of the fine white wine provided from his own personal stock. Swallowing, his eyes dart back toward the Weyrleader and his eyes narrow at the obvious tension there between he and the weyrwoman. Stepping slightly away from Adrick and toward Annie and Sk'lar he clears his throat slightly. A signal? A sign of support? A warning, perhaps? When the weyrleader's attention passes onward, he leans forward, whispers again in Annie's ear.

 

You overhear B'ran whisper "... ... ... ... ... you ... ... ... to remove him, my ..."  to Annie.

 

Annie is about to take another bite of her beans, but decides to poke in Sk'lar's general direction with one bony elbow as warning. A pointed glare for the young Weyrleader, and she is back to trying to enjoy her beans. She hears B'ran's whisper, and a grumble that is just a bit too loud is returned: "You could throw him all the way to the farthest reaches of Southern for all /I/ care." What a sweet woman.

 

Zhavia pushes her plate away, half-eaten, but smile quietly with sated pleasure. Fingers linked in her lap, she settles back in her chair, gaze flickering from Adrick to Annie to Sk'lar, just the faintest hint of sympathetic comisseration for the Weyrwoman. Taking a deep breath, she rubs her hands together, frowning slightly, though she hides the motion beneath the table.

 

E'ur looks to Tarlin with a most innocent face along with a solemn gesture. "Oh, nothing Cook. I've just happened to lose my appetite for /such/ good food and thought that stew would be better for myself." That and his a little brat, but thats something everyone already knows. The brownrider just sips his juice with a smile beneath.

 

K'no smirks at Annie's retort and refrains from commenting again by stuffing another piece of fish in his mouth.  But great Faranath he wants to support Annie's decision.  The man shakes his head and looks down at his food.

 

Re'a offers her cousing a hug as Lina finds her, smiling as she greets the other greenrider. "Lina! What brings you here?" If she's a little tipsy, forgive her - she's had several glasses of wine this evening and very little to eat.

 

Ri has been watching the romantic couple before her.. But then she refocuses on her meal, not as much fun as her usual repast, but it's good for the evening.

 

And among the harpers?  Kaytie has switched from the harp for the time being, her fingerings dancing over the strings of a gitar for an energetic dance melody.  The people dancing tonight are promised exercise, oh yes.

 

Adrick continues to eat his food with a great deal of relish, before turning to Annie and engaging the Weyrwoman in conversation.   "He's young."   Observes the Lord Holder, although he isn't too many Turns the Weyrleader's senior.   "I suppose you don't want to take advice from a mere Lord Holder, but give him time.   He might surprise you, and turn out to be a perfect Weyrleader."    He's trying to help.

 

Tarlin nods slowly. "Well, I'm sorry the food isn't to your taste, Wingleader E'ur."  She enunciates each word carefully, then smiles, a little too sweetly.  She nods greeting to Carid, then glances back at the head table.  Sk'lar's behavior receives a simple shake of her head and a purse of her lips.

 

Lina grins, big too. "It's so great to see you! I was looking for H'navu. I wanted his opinion on a picture. But, rather, I did have to come here to see one of the wingleaders about organizing a special event." she grins, nodding her head once or twice, here and there. She looks towards the Harpers and one of her mentees, giving them a clapping-motion.

 

Carid watches her wingleader a little more and the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader a little less.  Despite some lingering annoyance with the assistant cook, the former guard finds herself biting back a few choice words concerning E'ur and his attitude.  Luckily, the food is more than worth occupying herself with, and the brownrider - one of the only females with an appetite, it seems - continues to apply herself to her meal, taking a moment to return Tarlin's nod with a slight one of her own.

 

Sk'lar hitches to the side as one of Annie's bony elbows catches him in the side. He straightens alarmingly, shooting her a faint grin... the very same grin cast back to B'ran. But he doesn't say a single word. Instead, he pushes back on his chair, nodding to Annie and then the others at the table, "If you will excuse me... but I promised someone I'd rescue someone for a moment." And with that, he leaves the leader's table, weaves his way through the tables and crowds to finally locate Tarlin. He moves to catch her eye before reaching for her hand, "A dance, imp?"

 

Ri hides her discards, no need to have Tarlin snipe at her as well. Instead she drapes a napkin over the rejected meal and snacks on her beans.. Juice is enjoyed as well.

 

As Sk'lar removes himself from prxomity to Annie, Aida retreats back to her seat.  "Hungry, huh?  Would you like seconds?" she asks the Hold Steward, noticing that his plate and glass are both quite empty.  The man stares blankly back at her, his habitual frown loosening, his lips moving wordlessly.  "Sorry, you'll have to speak up, with the music and all -- " and Aida leans closer to him.

 

B'ran raises a brow at this last, easing smoothly to the side yet another step, between Annie and Sk'lar. Time or not, the obvious guarding of the weyrwoman, compounded by her outburst, leaves him only closer to doing exactly what she asks. Smiling, no less. Still, from the corner of his eye, the scenario with his own wingleader, E'ur, has his curiosity peaked. Matching Sk'lar grin for grin, he stands com/pletely/ in his way's view of Annie, his chest in Sk'lar's when he asks his leave of the table. Only Sk'lar's exit releases him from the steady gaze the wingsecond holds on this weyrleader's whereabouts. He turns back toward Annie, catching her eyes with a polite smile and a bow.

 

You overhear B'ran whisper "... ... ... ... ... ... tonight, my ... ... ... give you ... ..."  to Annie.

 

J'ak raises the dust on the dance floor with his partner, the two shaking a leg, and a few other body parts. Laughing, the two part ways as the dance calls for a change of partners, each going to the right.

 

Now Kaytie could be a real brat and end this song to dedicate the next to the new Weyrleader... or she could have a little more in the way of self-preservation instinct and simply continue on the set of songs the almost impromptu ensemble is playing through now.  Looking up long enough to spot Lina and Re'a, she flashes her fellow journeymen a broad grin.

 

Zhavia tries to catch Adrick's eye as the music starts, nodding expectantly towards the Weyrwoman. Her hands continue to rub together beneath the table, worrying up around her wrists, but she doesn't let her discomfort show on her face. A young man, giddy from the wine and the party, approaches her, but a shake of her head sends him off. Dark skin lighter than usual, she sits up in her chair, giving every indication of enjoying simply watching the dancing.

 

Tarlin starts at the touch, intent at that moment on the rest of the caverns.  "A dance?" she asks, stalling a moment to pull herself together.  She clears her throat and adjusts her uniform.  "Well, if you don't think it would be /too/ out of place?" she whispers back, glancing nervously over Sk'lar's shoulder at the head table, picking out Adrick, first and foremost.  Focusing again on her weyrmate, she then smiles.  "Okay."  After the Lord Holder's display, she could use a dance with her beloved.

 

"He could have all the time in the world and it wouldn't hel--" Annie cuts herself off, realizing she might be making a bad impression on Crom's new Lord. "Ahh... Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?" She is counting the days until Serath rises again, and Sk'lar is conviniently across the continent. She nods to B'ran in acknowledgement, then sourly watches the Weyrleader go to dance.

 

Riko somehow manages to make his way over to J'ak again, leaving his post by Adrick for a moment. "Can I get you anything, kind dragonrider, sir?" he asks the bronzerider sweetly, giving his long lashes a few quick bats for good measure.

 

K'no sits there watching the others.  He hasn't got anything better to do, so he leans back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head.  He watches Sk'lar move, but he cuts his gaze away when he realizes where's he's going and with what intent.  So now he also realizes, he has no one to watch.  So he looks up at the ceiling of the expansive Caverns and waits for something to happen.

 

Re'a nods as her cousin moves off towards the groped harpers, then sighs as she takes another bite of fish, though she wrinkles her nose a bit as her tummy rumbles in protest. Too much wine perhaps? Maybe she should lay off on it for a while.

 

All tension, posturing, and smugness are gone as Sk'lar reaches to lead Tarlin towards the dance floor. "No, it wouldn't be." And if anyone thought it was, he could care less, especially for Tarlin's sake. His other hand curls around her waist before he leads her into the dance, his first, truely soft smile showing.

 

Adrick smiles.  "Well, I'll let you handle your Weyrleader.   If you'll do me the honor of a dance?"  he asks, half rising from his chair, pushing his plate away.

 

The Hold Steward leans towards Aida, his expression contorting into a distinct moue as if about to complain further, but the next thing she knows, he's toppled altogether -- upsetting her plate of food onto her, and dragging the tablecloth as he tumbles into her lap.  "Sir?  Sir?!"  Aida shakes him urgently.  What was his name again?  "Mendelbahn?" she attempts, trying to turn his head upwards.

 

Annie, food finished now, takes a final sip of her wine, and nods to Adrick, standing as she does. "It would be my honor, Lord Adri-- wha--?" As the tablecloth at the head table slides, taking her plate and wineglass with it, the Weyrwoman looks up in alarm, still half-standing. "Aida?" she barks sharply. "What is going on?"

 

E'ur finishes off his stew and gives an approvingly nod toward the food as a drudge refills his glass of juice. He should just have his own drudge. A look over toward to Weyrsecond Aida, his old Wingleader, gets a raised eyebrow as he stands up. "Wha?" Attention has diverted, even across the room the brownrider can see the happenings. "Goodness, you'd think that a Steward would be appropriate enough not to pass out in the middle of a gathering."

 

Adrick blinks, stepping back from the table as soon as the tablecloth starts to slide, which is fortunate, because his plate and glass spill off into the seat he just recently vacated.   "Mendelvahn!"   he exclaims, leaping down the table towards his Steward.

 

Tarlin returns the smile with her own glowing expression.  Damp fingers curl about Sk'lar's, her other hand leaving prints upon his upper sleeve as she follows him into the first sweep of the dance.  "I always imagined our Weyrleader better behaved," she scolds him playfully.

 

Ri jerks upright as she catches the Weyrsecond shaking the Hold's steward, the healer side of her overiding anything else she may be. As she moves as swiftly as her swollen feet can move her.. she is at Aida's side. In a soft voice, she asjkes.. "IS there anything wrong? Has he had too much to drink?"

 

Aida darts a glance at the Weyrwoman and Lord Holder, but has no answer.  Shifting in her chair, she attempts to lower the Steward as gently as is possible to the ground without anything else getting in the way or falling on him.  "Dunno, Ri -- he was gonna say something, and then he just fell."

 

Carid almost - almost - looks envious as she watches Tarlin and Sk'lar approach the dancefloor; she's proud of her wingsecond weyrmate, but he does seem to drown in hidework some days.  Chancing a look towards the Lord Holder and the Weyrwoman, the brownrider's brows arch sharply, but she stays where she is, out of the way.

 

Re'a blinks as the the cry goes up, and the greenrider turns about to see what's wrong. "What's happening?" Frowning, she rises from her seat to peer over the dancers towards the head table, while her stomach does a few flip-flops. Too much wine, yep.

 

K'no's attention is snagged like a loose dress on a needle bush.  "Hmm?"  The rider looks over at the steward and the weyrsecond and shrugs.  No one he knows.  The man leans forward again and decides that this is something to watch after all.  "Is he breathing, Aida?"  Sure, state the big question.

 

Annie has made her way to Aida and the Cromite Steward, too, and is hovering with an air of annoyance. "What is the matter with him?" she demands. "How much did you let him drink?" The Weyrwoman frets, pink flushing her pale cheeks as she internally bemoans the fate of her precious dinner party.

 

Zhavia's head turns sharply as Mendelvahn, the Crom Steward, collapses into Aida's lap. Leaping to her feet, she narrowly avoids being splashed by spilling food and drink, moving towards them. " What in Faranth's name..." Speech is slightly slurred, as though spoken with a numb tongue as she reaches the scene. Fingers reach out to touch the fallen man's neck, seeking a pulse. " Is there a Healer here?" Worried emerald eyes meet Adrick's, and the fingers of her free hand creep to rub surreptitiously at her throat.

 

Aida backs off, flicking the tablecloth over to one side and heedless of any food or drink that's splattered on the people around her.  "I didn't -- he didn't even like the wine," she protests to the Weyrwoman, giving Ri and Zhavia space.  "I don't know how much he had, I just stepped away to talk to Sk'lar -- "  She searches out the Weyrleader in the crowd, better that than looking at the older man lying prone on the ground.

 

Sk'lar murmurs under his breath, "Well, I'm trying to." He actually was 'til Annie started giving him those looks. You know, evil looks. Devil in her eyes looks. No. Must not think of that. As he continues to draw Tarlin across the floor, leaning forward to give her a kiss on the neck, his attention is reluctantly drug away and towards the commotion at the head table. Not his doing either. He hesitates on the floor, halting Tarlin as well, to look at the table with confusion.

 

Riko is distracted from J'ak as the Steward collapses, and hurries -- not to the fallen man -- but to Adrick's side. "Lord," he says urgently, reaching to grasp one of his arms, "Please step back and let the Healers handle it... He probably had too much wine..." But the tone of the young man's voice is definitely worried. "Please, Lord, step back with me, away from the crowd."

 

Ri says, "I am a healer Lady.. Let me check a few things.." hand shoots out and grabs first at his wrist, then more unsurely at his throat. Her eyes lift to Zhavia and a small headshake is all she offers.. "I'm sorry, so sorry.."

 

Annie eyes Ri with obvious alarm and suspicion. "You're sorry? What do you /mean/ you're sorry?" she demands, a hint of shrillness touching her tone. "Wingleader Ri, please tell me what is going on /right/ /now/." Poor Annie. So high strung.

 

K'no peers at the group and rises a little bit out of his chair.  "Ri, what happened?"  He hears her appology and he squints one eye in a classic 'ick' look.  "Uh-oh.  Is he... um...  Y'know?"  The rider looks over the table and stands, walking around it and over to the leader's table to get a better view.

 

E'ur moves in the direction of Ri, knowing she is the healer here. A look of confusion at the other Wingleader. "Whattya mean sorry?" A lift of eyebrow as the cyan swirls dash around the room, "He's just passed out ain't he?" A travel of his eyes toward the Lord Holder, he's okay right?

 

Kaytie signals the other harpers to a stop, the entire group bunching up into a cluster around the tall journeyman to watch the scene with varying degrees of wide-eyed curiosity and shock.

 

Adrick looks up and with a glance makes it clear that Riko is to be silent.  "Everyone, make some room!"   He says, doing just that, steping back a pace to let the healer's in.   "Is it his heart?   Poor fellow's getting up their in years."  He's worried about his Steward, but is more afraid that this is just one of those things that happens.

 

Several other people are suddenly not feeling all that well. Could it be sympathy pains they're feeling right now in the bellies? One small boy starts crying, running to his mother to complain about his tummy hurting "Baaaad, Mommie." and being ushered out towards the Lower Caverns.

 

With the music halted, the party proceedings fade, nay, degenerate into distracted, nervous murmurings.  Guests nearest the high table crowd in close, though one or two level-headed folks try to keep them back, while other pockets of distress erupt in the cavern.

 

Tarlin's attention also strays with the commotion.  She frowns and, when they stop, turns to face the high table. She leans towards the bronzerider, a chill fear creeping into her gut.  If nothing else, such an attack is an ill omen, indeed.

 

" Sorry?" Zhavia barks, forcibly removing her hand from her throat as she gathers her skirts around her, heedless of the spilled food and drink pooling about the man's body. " He can't be... what happened?" Emerald eyes grow as hard as agates as she stares at the greenrider. " What happened to him?" A faint signal with one hand is given to Riko, ordering him to pull Adrick away. That same hand creeps back to her throat again, by it's own volition.

 

B'ran stiffens at the rising Lord Holder, his sense of protection heightened by the insolent Weyrleader, transferred by proxy to the approaching Adrick. A glance at him causes him to relax just slightly and step backward.. until the Steward topples and the tablecloth and the utensils. In a sudden jerk of movement, he's back between the weyrwoman and the table, Aida-side, but out of the weyrwoman's way, snapping his fingers in the air at a set of drudges who immediately begin to remove the Steward. Stooping down at the man, one brow rises at the healer's words. He looks up at Annie. "Weyrwoman? Perhaps a dance would be in order after all?" Save face?

 

Aida twists her gaze from the dance floor back to the Steward.  "His heart?  Was he sick?  Ri, you have to help him," she begs, her voice cracking with the plea.  A curious rider who peers in to close is roughly shoved back as the Weyrsecond stoops beside Ri.

Riko sighs in exasperation at Adrick. Doesn't he know what's good for him? The young assistant is about to step back, but at Zhavia's motion, he grasps the Lord's arm again, trying to pull him away. "Lord, I /must/ insist. This is for your own good. /Zhavia/ insists," he adds, in a firm tone.

 

Ri says, "I can only say his heart has stopped beating Lady, Lord. My guess is, his age, the rich food and the drink aggravated an unknown condition. He doesn't seem to have suffered much." Cold comfort, but all the poor woman has to offer. A small hand moves to close the elder's eyes. "He's gone Aida."

 

B'ran rises, then, backs away from the body, pushing at the crowd that nears in his attempt to get to Annie's side. "Please, weyrwoman." His hand slips to Annie's elbow. 

 

Carid starts as the music abruptly gives way to nothing but whispers and nervous mutters, punctuated only by the louder comments from the head table.  She bites her lip, exchanging silent words with Adhaith before making an effort to catch Kaytie's attention; music might be the best thing for the general crowd at the moment.

 

J'ak bends over, his breath labored, even before the music stops and the cries errupt from the high table. Worried, his partner pats his back. "Are you ok, bronzer?" Pale, his skin is clammy, and he shudders, hands brushing at his body. Somebody else isn't feeling that good from the looks of it. A moment later, he's sick... and the crowd backs away from him quickly.

 

K'no looks at the corpse and says, quietly, "Well, at least he died happily.  What better way to go, mm?"  The rider straightens his posture and steps back away from the body.  He opens his mouth to say something else, but it excapes him and he shuts it again, idly running his chin.

 

E'ur backs away, as told by many people. A worried look placed upon the brownriders face as he, probably along with other people, moves toward the infirmary to find a healer who is on duty. A move around as he nervously looks around the room... J'ak... is spied.

 

You overhear B'ran whisper "... crowd ... ... ... ... ... ... Holder's ... ... ... it's ... likely ... ... is ... play. ... Annie. You ... let me ... ... ... ... ..."  to Annie.

 

Annie is stricken, simply stricken. Not at her party. No, no, not at her party. Her face reddens more, and she looks simply lost. "You can't be serious...?" she mumbles at Ri, shaking her head. As B'ran touches her elbow, she shakes her head firmly, jaw tensed. "No... I-- I don't want to dance right now. I don't think I can." She turns away from the dead Steward, only to face the dancefloor and see the commotion there. "Wh-what," she begins shakily, "is happening out there?"

 

And Kaytie, ever-perceptive, catches the hints her bronzriding friend's weyrmate is trying to give her.  Murmuring under her breath to the other harpers, she trades her gitar for the more familiar harp.  Another harper, this one gifted on the flute, moves up beside the Igenite, and the pair begin to play a simple, haunting melody, slowly joined by the others as it progresses.

 

Aida takes a moment to absorb the implications of Ri's words, and pushes herself to her feet.  "Okay, okay," she exhales.  "Let's move him, at least.  We can't let him lie here, like this.  You and you," she gestures edgily to some riders, "we should move him to the infirmary, lay him out properly."  And what's the commotion on the dance floor, now?

 

Sk'lar frowns heavily as the news of what happened up at the table reaches him. As a couple of expectant looks dart his way, he waves his hand for the harpers to start up once again. And then J'ak has to go and get sick all over the dance floor.... He flickers a glance to Tarlin, catches a drudge by the arm to tell her to break out the cleaning supplies right quick. He moves away from Tarlin and towards his fellow rider. "J'ak, ol' buddy. Had a little too much to drink? Why don't I help you off the floor to a seat.."

 

Adrick closes his eyes for a moment, planting himself so that Riko can't pull upon his arm.   Quietly, he says goodbye to his steward.   Until the noise on the dance floor starts.   "What under the sun?"  He asks, before pulling away from Riko.  He starts to walk towards the dance floor, frowning.   "I don't think....."  But he doesn't finish the thought.

 

Riko is quick to sight the drama on the dance floor as well, and he chases after his Lord.

 

The bronzer isn't the only one feeling ill right now, for there's several others running for the baths, while still others moan about their stomachs hurting.  The party has turned into a madhouse!

Riko is quick to sight the drama on the dance floor as well, and he chases after his Lord. "Lord Adrick!" he calls after the man. "Why don't you stay up here? It's safer, I'm sure. Stay up here with me and Zhavia!"

 

Senior journeyman healer.. at least that's what the knot says, appears in the room, looking first to the ill rider and then to the body on the floor. Body? Spying Ri, Hallin moves to her side. "What has happened here Greenrider?" A curl to his voice, he doesn't approve of riders whjo also study.

 

B'ran's hand tightens on Annie's elbow. "Weyrwoman. Are you okay?" Glancing about for help, his gaze just passes over E'ur and his shady activity, his own eyes following E'ur's gaze to J'ak, only to dismiss it for now. "/Please/ Annie. I am getting you out of here. /Now/." One hand slips about her waist, the other still on her elbow, and he turns her.

 

Zhavia lifts herself from the floor with an effort, gasping for breath before pulling herself together. Solicious hands and murmured words are brushed away with a tart, " I'm fine, just stunned." and she rushes after Adrick, grabbing the arm Riko doesn't have. " Adrick, enough." Her complexion has taken on a distinctly greyish tinge, and there's a faint chill to her skin, easily attributed to the fright of losing her partner. " You need to stay back, love," she continues in a softer tone, the warning, and worry, plain in her slightly slurred voice.

 

J'ak falls to his knees after staggering a few steps, gripping his stomach while his face drains of all color.  Still, his breathing is labored, and he looks dazed, as if he can't believe what's happening to him. Who could?

 

K'no turns his gaze towards the dancefloor as another rider pukes.  The man winces and says, "Disgusting.  This stuff only happens around he--Tarlin?"  The rider immediatly looks around for his friend.  Spotting her admist the crowd, he forces his way to her and asks in a concerned voice, "Tarlin?  What exactly was in the fish?"

 

Carid, by contrast, has several turns of guard training to keep her calm, along with a perpetually composed lifemate, and she finds herself attempting to keep order in her small corner of the caverns.  "Here, sir.  Just sip this water.  Slowly, sir.  Just stay still until you feel better or until a healer can get to you," she murmurs, the words nothing short of an order.

 

Summersett has arrived.

 

"/No/!" Annie shouts at B'ran, breaking free from him, wine imbibed giving her voice a bit more volume and her movements more flailing. "B'ran, this is /my/ party, and I am going to see it through. I trust you won't let anything happen to me." That said, she notices a young rider falling, and she blanches. A moment passes, and she darts out of B'ran's grasp and out to the dancefloor.

 

E'ur runs, or the best he can to avoid all the other people. Moving quickly the brownrider is to get to the bronzerider. "J'ak! Another Healer, anyone?!" The wingleader kneels quickly at the sick one. "You can't... too." Clutchmate just attempts to help, without touching of course.

 

Tarlin's first response is to edge away from the ill rider.  She glances from the stricken J'ak to the high table, a hand goes to her throat, and she starts to eye the rest of the crowd for symptoms of collapse.  If it's Annie's party, it's Tarlin's food, even if she isn't Head Cook.  She swallows nervously, then, steeling herself for the worst, gathers together her assistants.  With a cool head to guide them, they come together quickly.  The cook organizes them, sending some to make sure no one leaves without getting checked over, and others to assist with the mess in the living caverns.  She shakes her head at K'no, finally allowing a hint of panic to touch her face once her assistants are deployed.  "Just... butter and lemon," she replies, dazed.

 

Adrick wants to get to the bronerider.  True, he's not a healer, but it's important that he know exactly what's going on here.   But Riko, and then Zhavia's words give him pause, pause enough to turn around and look at his fiancee.   "Zhavia!"   He starts moving through the crowd quickly, trying to reach her.  "Riko!  Check the other glasses and plates!"  One person falls, coincidence.   Two is suspicious.   But when several people start getting sick, Adrick immediately starts to put two and two together.  "Zhavia!"  He says as he reaches her side, pulling out a chair.   "Sit down.   You're grey."

 

The harpers don't need to be told twice to keep playing, and Kaytie - somehow the de facto leader of the musicians at the moment - is leading them with graceful precision from the slower tune to a slightly quicker, louder song in a major key.  Major is good.  Major is happy.  Major is keeping the harpers from falling apart with the rest.

 

Hallin leaves the body, nothing to be done with him and immediately turns to the stricken lady. "Excuse me, but may I ask just what you ate tonight?" Surprising gentle hands check pulse and respirations, just while talking to her.

 

The two riders assigned by Aida gingerly raise lift Crom Steward and carry him towards the infirmary, accompanied by an apprentice healer who seems to have turned positively white at being so close to a dead body.  That settled, Aida turns to consider the panic unfolding in the cavern, and notices Zhavia's pallor.  "Sit, sit," she adds to Adrick's urgent request.  "You don't look well."

 

B'ran won't force the woman in her own weyr, at her own party, and when she frees herself of his grasp, he clenches his jaw, skipping up behind her, then in front of her. "Very well, weyrwoman. But /no/ one is getting near you. " He flails his arms at a drudge that nears. "Get out of the way. Get back!" He clears the weyrwoman's path of everyone.

 

Riko nods to Zhavia, and without any other prompting, he is speeding down the head table, dumping plates and glasses, searching for something -- /anything/ -- that could explain what is going on. His already pale features are paler as he completely upturns the place settings at the head table.

 

K'no pats his friend's shoulder.  "Just butter and lemon?  Where did you get them?  How old were they?  Do you know?"  K'no looks around at the others.  "Don't mind me for stating the obvious, but there was something in the food.  Tarlin, sit down."  The rider looks over to Adrick and bellows, "Lord Adrick, how are you feeling?  Shells and shards alive!  Lady Holder!"  Can't Telgar have a decent gathering without getting smacked?  'parrently not.  "Tarlin, do something about the food, get your assisstants to get all the plates or something, don't let anyone else eat it."

 

You overhear B'ran whisper "... the record, Annie. ... ... ... ... stuborn ... as ... ... ... as a ... ... ... ..."  to Annie.

 

Sk'lar peers around as everything seems to be deteriorating by the moment. He shoots a glance up to the leadership table, actually looking for Annie.. and not finding her. Oh fardles. Please say she didn't get sick too. Anxious glance finally catches sight of her coming out onto the floor. He jerks a finger at her, and then points back up to the table, namely towards where the Lord Holder has gotten himself to -clearly meaning for her to get out of the main floor area. He scowls before murmuring some words to a couple of riders near to him to move over to the exits.

 

Annie is soon kneeling next to E'ur at J'ak's side, once-pretty dress now rumpled and stained. With one shaking hand, she tries to nudge him awake. "Wingrider!" she hisses. "/Wingrider/!" She pauses, then leans over and shouts in his face. "/Wake/ /up/! That's an /order/!" She does not handle stress well.

 

Summersett goes home.

 

Zhavia shakes her head at Adrick, clutching him as she intently studies his face. " It's just the strain love, I promise, I'm fine." She got him off the floor though, and her hands grip him hard as she leans against him, struggling to regain her calm. Her breathing comes a bit harder, but she refuses to believe she's sick, nor to let anyone else, either. " What on Pern is going on here, Weyrleader?" she demands, her voice raised to a near hysterical pitch. " Adrick, tell me how you feel." There's something the the Crom contigent's panic as they cluster about their Lord that is more than just worry about illness... as though, perhaps, they suspect something more dire.

 

Ri moves from where the steward was to Annie's side, down on the floor and again, healer hands take swift action. "Annie? His pulse is very shallow, weak.." Her eyes hold unshed tears.. Not J'ak. He wouldn't have a heart condition too, would he?

The healers are stretched to the maximum now, having to field ailing guests all over the cavern and see to the more serious ones too.  Some servers -- and none of /them/ seem to be unwell -- have been co-opted as well, to assist people to the infirmary or to fetch herbs from the stores.

 

Tarlin scowls at K'no.  "Already done," she gestures as a troop of residents disappear into the kitchens, laden with plates.  She brushes off his attempts to get her to sit as well as his questions, and shakes her head.  "K'no, stop.  I gotta think."  And think fast.

 

Carid continues to be a little spot of calm, though the gaze that follows Riko's movements on the heels of Adrick's order is the embodiment of suspicious.  Without another word for those around her, she moves rapidly around people to Tarlin's side.  "Tarlin!  Do you think it was something in the food?  Is there any way someone besides the people normally in the kitchens could have gotten to it?" she questions the cook in rapid order, trying to be gentle in the same beat.

 

J'ak shudders again, rolling to his side to spill his guts once more, arms curled about his belly. Growing paler, while his skin takes on a cold and clammy touch, he mumbles something about not feeling well as the Weyrwoman bends over him.

 

"Lord! Look!" Riko shouts, holding up an empty wine glass in one hand. He shoves past a harried drudge, glass clutched close as he makes his way to his Lord. He holds the wineglass out, displaying a fine, white residue in the bottom of the glass. "This is the Steward's glass," he murmurs, voice now low.

 

Tss'a has arrived.

 

Sk'lar flickers a glance down to Annie as she kneels before J'ak, "Ask Serath to bespeak his lifemate... find out what is wrong." Keeping his calm despite Annie's obvious stress, he moves over towards Zhavia and Adrick. "Well, we are trying to determine that right now, but as soon as we do know... are either of you feeling any bit ill?"

 

E'ur looks at Annie, "I don't think that'll work Annie." A pale faced brownrider just stands up, realizing the reality of the real J'ak... ugh. A hold of his stomach, knowing that J'ak is taken care of by Ri and Annie, he moves away slowly. Maybe not the food but something in the reality, he heads towards the baths himself, ready to be sick.

E'ur walks toward Lower Caverns.

 

Hallin nods to his new Weyrleader, and intervense.. "The lady is unwell, Sk'lar, I was just asking about her eating habits of the evening." Stiff, but proper is hallin.

Adrick shakes his head, detatching himself from Zhavia, long enough to try to push her down into a chair.   "Sit!"  He orders with all of his authority as Lord Holder.   "Healer!"   He calls, before nodding at Riko.  "Put it here, and check hers."  He points to Zhavia.   He's not feeling anything aside from worry and anger, so he's putting himself at the end of the list of people to worry about.  

 

Annie eyes Ri in alarm, then nods to Sk'lar, for once not sniping at him. She is silent for a moment, gaze distant, then she turns completely white. Ghostly white. "Lumanevolth is frantic... Serath is calming him... He says he can..." She trails off. "He can barely hear J'ak."

 

Tss'a strides in, smiling to some and saluting to others, as appropriate. She moves into the caverns, ending up near a corner, apart from the bulk of the crowd.

 

Kaytie's fingers falter on the harp-strings; despite only knowing J'ak during candidacy, she remembers the man fondly, and his condition is enough to set the journeywoman back a bit.  The other harpers exchange glances, worried, but continue on as they were trained to, subtly making up for Kay's abrupt stumblings.

 

K'no rolls his eyes at Tarlin.  "Alright then.  Don't we have any more sharding healers in this Weyr?"  The rider looks around and walks over to the wine table and fills up another glass of wine and drinks from it.  That's what /he/ does best.  "One of you healers please go check on the lady holder!  Priority and whatnot."  Just sit down, K'no.  You're not helping.  The rider moves over to a table and sits down in one of the chairs.

 

Aida shakes her head at Zhavia, practically pushing the woman into a chair.  "Lord Adrick seems to be all right, but you -- "  She breaks off, unable, or unwilling, to complete the thought.  She darts a glance at the group huddled around J'ak, then hails a healer.  "Here, here, the Lady might need someone!" she shouts, trying to make herself heard above the hubbub.

Riko is quick to retrieve Zhavia's glass as well, face now sporting a rather green pallor. "Look," is all he says, holding out Zhavia's glass, displaying the same evidence. "Th-that rider out there on the floor drank from her glass, too, on accident." Observation is one of his strong points.

 

B'ran stands just behind the weyrwoman and Ri. "Weyrwoman. The new Lady Holder is sick." He bends down, closer to her. "Weyrwoman. Your guests need a healer?" One hand dangles from his knee sticking in the air as he squats. "Lady to be Zhavia?"

 

"I don't know!" Tarlin shouts back at Carid, frustrated with both brownriders and their barrage of questions.  "And I can't think with the both of you questioning me."  Nor can she really think with the panic filling the living caverns.  She sits.

 

Tss'a steps up, behind Tarlin, calm and collected despite the apparent chaos. "Can I help, Tarlin? Is there anything I can do?" she asks quietly, eyes flickering across the crowd.

 

Zhavia tries to fight off the press of hands, but finally lets herself be shoved into the nearest chair, holding her head in her hands. " Adrick," she whispers weakly. " No, see to Adrick. Don't let anything happen to him." Shudders wrack through her slender frame, and she lowers her hands to grip at the sides of her chair, face tight and sheened with sweat. " I'm fine, I'm fine! Just don't let anything happen to Adrick!" Her voice cracks, and she shudders again, uncontrollably.

 

Ri stretches a hand to the weyrwoman. "I'm afraid.. he's not going to make it Annie. He's fading even as we stay here." Unfased by all the stink and mess, she gently lays the bronzer's head in what is left of her lap. J'ak was always the kindest of the candidates to her and this one last thing she can do. Ease him any way known.

 

"Call as many healers as you can," Annie instructs B'ran quickly, still kneeling next to J'ak. "Serath told Lumanevolth that I would stay with J'ak and so I'm going to stay here right now for just as long as I need to..." Her words are strung together awkwardly, her hands shake. Stress does not bode well for the Weyrwoman.

 

K'no isn't bothering Tarlin, but he /is/ peering intensly at the glasses.  "Hey, you there with the glasses!  Oh.. uh...  Adrick, where's your glass?  Someone check Adrick's glass."  K'no's not about to put poisoning out of the question.  The rider peers at the glass from the distance, but can't take it any more and rises, walking over to Riko.  "Is it the same stuff in both glasses?"

 

Carid turns sharply, driven by Riko's words.  She turns back to Tarlin long enough to give the cook a brief, tight hug.  "Sorry, Tar.  Just trying to be useful," she murmurs, whirling again to join Riko and the others with some trepidation; upset situation or not, she knows her place in the Weyr.  "Excuse me..." and the almost-timid words are to Riko, "I was a guard before Impressing.  Could I... is there anything I can do to help?"

 

Annie suddenly realizes the depth of Ri's words, and something wells up in her throat. "Ri... you... help... him... /now/." She tries to aid the rider, while Serath deals with a frantic dragon.

 

Re'a groans again, bent over as she clutches her belly as pain shoots through it. Oh man - that wine is a doozy.  Following a few others towards the baths, she finds it in disarray with people lined up outside. A few drudges have found pails and buckets for the sick people in hopes of saving the floor.

 

Hallin takes charge of the lady, for the moment. "Lord Adrick is not showing any signs of this illness, please dear woman, ease yourself.. Try and take slow breaths and attempt to relax." Meanwhile he is watching as other healers deal with other illnesses.

 

Adrick looks up at Riko, and swallows, before he kneels next to Zhavia.   "I'm fine dear.   Riko checked my glass before I drank it.   My food too.  But...you...your class....it's...."  He can't go on, his hands reaching for hers as he watches her worriedly.  "I'm fine.   It's you who we're all worried about."

 

Sk'lar purses his lips, looking from Adrick back over to Zhavia. He bobs his head to Hallin before being tugged away by yet another rider that whispers a few hasty words into his ear. And all this does is cause him to frown more, murmuring softly, "Nobody else has died, have they?" He murmurs something back to the rider before looking back to Zhavia, then towards a Healer, "Water? Will water help to slow this down? Dilute anything?" He is just catching some of the 'glass' words being mentioned around him.

 

Riko eyes K'no with complete distrust and clutches the glasses close to his chest, wrapping his vest around them. "Excuse me, rider sir, but these glasses are now property of Crom Hold, and will not leave my possession. That's all I can say about this."

All heck has broken loose in Telgar's living caverns!  People are sick and dying and everyone is asking, "Was it the fish???"

 

Ri orders Liuth to help J'ak's bronze while she reaches for something to help the rider. As a last measure she attempts the heart massage techniques, but finally, those too fail her..

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Dharmath echoes into the link, urgency ringing through the call which all dragons will hear. <<Healers needed at Telgar. Quickly!>> A flash of scene, riders and guest alike falling, memory or immediate flickers through. <<Healers needed! They fall!>>

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Aiswenath echoes strongly, deeply: << I can and will transport any who are without transport. Bespeak me if I am needed! >>

 

Aida leaves Zhavia to Hallin's ministrations and sets about organizing those riders and weyrfolk who are still on their feet, marshalling them to assist healers, guard the exits and generally maintain calm.

 

K'no waves his hand at Riko.  "I don't want the glasses, boy, trust me.  Do you know who had these glasses before they were drank from?"  The rider peers at the residue and steps back.  "I don't know what that is, but I know it isn't a normal ingredient in whine.  I've been drinking it for long enough to know.  That wasn't there when it was poured, I'll bet."  And that's all K'no can say.  He's just a rider.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Tirelth sends out a whip of crackling white thought, twisting and twirling it around until it captures the frantic bronze's mind. Soothing, soft blues take over, flooding, swamping, waves of cerulean and cyan attempting to smother the panic he can feel rising within the other. Harper-song spills forth, a deep, bass thrumming that echoes back and forth, and silent, mute dragon attempts to soothe.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Rionth blinks. << Who fall? >>

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Adhaith sends the smoke-heavy weight of his thoughts along with the rest.  <<My rider and I will help also.>>  Beneath the urgency is the soothing of rainfall on a forest of pine.

 

J'ak's labored breathing stops with one last shudder, his body relaxing...

 

(Kahlendroth) Lumanevolth launches powerfully into the air!

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Serath raises her keen into the mental realm as well as into the night air as one of her own passes between with his rider's death. It is a wordless noise, heart-wrenching and aching with all the pain mothers everywhere feel with the death of a child -- and all dragons are children of hers. She moans the loss.

 

Tarlin steps up beside K'no, her own gaze going to the glasses.  She swallows around a sudden lump in her throat as her cheeks pale ever-so-slightly.  "Uh.  Those wouldn't happen to be the same glasses that the toast was made with, would they?" she asks softly of Riko.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Lumanevolth keens loudly, his last though of his rider, then the bronze falls silent... and no one, nothing reaches him again.

 

Ri drops her hands from the bronzer's heart.. As the sound of dragon's keens fill the air, tears do fall steadily now. "I am sorry.. Such ineffectual words at a time like this.

 

"They would." Riko nods to Tarlin, and says nothing more. "I would see to the health of your Weyrwoman and Weyrleader, if I were you, young lady."

 

Zhavia's fingers reach up to grab Adrick's jacket, her dilated emerald eyes staring unseeing into his. " Adrick," she murmurs, over and over. Clarity returns, and she turns her head sharply to Riko, gasping from pain and nausia as she does so. " Riko.. what is in those glasses?" Grip loosens, and she sways slightly in her seat, staying put by sheer force of a formidible will. " Don't worry about me," she whispers, her words nearly indistinct. " I'm fine, it's just the shock..." Trailing off, she looks over Adrick's shoulder, chocolate skin nearly as pale as Riko's as she gazes at J'ak. Dragons keening. " No."

 

B'ran's eyes refocus, glance toward the infirmary where the healers there are already very busy with the influx. Somewhere on the heights the harper's drums begin to ring out. And then...  B'ran stops his glancing about, eyes lifting to the ceiling of the caverns. "No...." 

 

K'no blinks and looks over at his wingmate as his eyes blur from Chesketh's wail.  "J'AK!"  The rider runs around the table and over to the boy's body and stops just next to it.  "D... J'ak?  Oh... no."  K'no's hand clenches into a fist and he growls.  "Noo...."  K'no makes it over to a chair and collapses into it.  "A/nother/ rider.  Shardit!"

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Aiswenath lets loose with a deep, almost subsonic keen, almost a mental rumble, scything through the mental links in sorrowful tone. The passing of the bronze is felt deeply... so very deeply.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Rionth rumbles before he keens with the rest of the dragons.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Ailaeth lifts her voice, its melodic tones lifted to keen with the others of her weyr for a rider and dragon who are gone.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Kahlendroth inundates all with a dramatic thrum from deep within, so very deep and depthless and beyond the bounds of his great heart at the loss of his clutchmate, the loss of of a fellow dragon. It undulates with a soul-rending keen that would echo from horizon to empyrean and beyond.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Chesketh lifts his head and adds his earthly voice to the already eerie keens, his powerful voice giving it a deep, destroyed feel.

 

Annie, a woman who does not cry, cries. Serath's pained emotion is shared, and the Weyrwoman sags, shoulders hunched, hands still resting on the dead bronzerider's arm. She can't say anything, she pays no attention to anything -- and this is the woman who said 'death is a part of dragonriding.' But this is different.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Tirelth releases his stranglehold upon the bronze as nothing remains to hold, the shudder of pitch-black agony spearing through the minds of dragon, steel gray mourning following in jagged streaks. A sound rarely heard, the sound of Tirelth's voice, echoes forlornly in a high-pitched keen, filled with all the sorrow of a dragon who's seen too much.

 

Adrick swallows, his own eyes turning red as he fights to keep back his tears.  Two deaths, and at least one of the dead drank from the same glass that his beloved has drank from.   Mutely, he nods at her, his grip tightening on hers.  "Zhavia."  He finds his voice, though it is very hoarse, rough with pain.  "Listen to me.   You are not fine.   "Riko.   Can you figure out what is in those glasses?"   He asks, before calling.  "Water!  And lots of it!"

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Adhaith adds his keen to those around him, mourning the passing of one of him own, the low cry thrumming through the woods of his soul and beyond.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Liuth Bugles to the air with a final salute for one who she counted as friend.. a wrenching sound that joins to others as she keens loudly in goodbye.

 

Riko looks at Adrick and alarm, glasses still clutched beneath his vest. "I-- I don't know! It's just... some /stuff/ that shouldn't be in wine. You'd have to ask an herbalist or a healer..." Flustered, he tries to control himself. "I th-think I will save these glasses..." He watches Zhavia nervously.

 

K'no taps his forehead.  "This ain't right... this isn't happening!"  The man puts his chin in his hand and looks over at J'ak's form.  "Someone... Get that body to the Infirmary, please."  The rider rises and makes his way to Tarlin again.  K'no says in a cracked voice, "What do you mean, is it the same glasses the toast was made with?  What happened during the toast, Tartar?"

 

Tss'a holds her hand on the back of Tarlin's chair, eyes wide and knuckles white. She shakes her head, gritting her teeth, tearing her fingers free to start moving around the cavern, giving calm words and gestures to whomever she can. Adrick's call is heard; she surges forth to bring water - a glass and a whole pail of it - to the Holder's side.

 

The harpers slide as one into a song appropriate to the moment, one of mourning and hope in the same beat, celebrating J'ak's life through melody alone.  Kaytie does not join with them, stepping to one side to struggle with the unfamiliar sting of tears.  "Jessak...  J'ak..." she might be heard to whisper.

 

Tarlin nods reply to Riko, the panic fading into the background as the implications of the man's reply strike her.  She turns to heed his words, gaze sweeping the insanity for signs of either Weyrleader, when the keening fills the Weyr with the heart-rending loss.  K'no's question is completely lost as she throws herself into the chaos to find her weyrmate, her heart beating in her throat.

 

Healer is with Lady Zhavia.. and then turns to her Lord. "She is gravely ill, I would strongly suggest she be removed to the infirmary at once. And while water most likely won't hurt her, I suggest you use restraint in anything she may ingest right now. Until we know more, I don't recommend she take in much at all." So speaks the somber man.

 

Sk'lar seems to shudder in place, the weight of a thousand dragons, more than a thousand, seemingly slamming into his chest and ripping through his body. "Oh...." he groans, reaching a hand out to grip white-knuckled at the table. He just stands there for a long moment, breathing. What seems like forever, but is only a couple of breaths, he allows a shiver to pass through his body, and then he is looking across for his Weyrsecond, "Aida!"

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Dharmath suddenly ceases his call for healers, an almost palpable thickness to the silence before his mind voice tears through the link, blasts the whipping keen of the passing of Lumanevolth. Echoes of this dragon fleeting in and out of the desolate cry in images that flash like a life put out in a winking between, die only in the sad plummeting of this shared loss.

 

K'no watches Tarlin run off and bows his head.  The rider shakes his head and sighs, shoulders slumping visibly for the first time in Turns.  "Uhg..."  He walks over to Ri and kneels down next to her, one hand on her shoulder.  "Ri?  Ri?  You gonna be alright?"

 

Adrick nods to the healer.  "Riko.  Fetch me some water, lad.   Leave one of the glasses for Telgar to look at.  Keep one for us."   At least this is something Adrick can deal with.   Action.  Something /can/ be done for Zhavia right now.   "Rider."  He says, looking at K'no.   "Where is the infirmary?"

 

Zhavia surges up, fingers fighting to tighten again on Adrick's collar as she stares into his eyes, her own panicked and confused. " What is going on?" she demands, " Adrick, talk to me." Hands slap at the Healer, a furious backhand that lacks the strength to do more than leave a faint mark across his cheek. " Don't you tell me I'm ill!" comes the irrational rage, before her eyes seek out Riko, uncomprehending. " The glasses. The toast... the prepared wine..." Her voice trails off, and she loses her grip on Adrick, slipping to the floor in an undignified heap, barely breathing.

 

Carid drops into the nearest chair, momentarily crushed by the grief passed on from Adhaith and mingling with her own.  Though tears try to fall, she wipes them ruthlessly away, homing in on Aida's varied instructions as a constructive means of distraction.  Standing shakily, the young rider moves towards a group of stunned guests, beginning the task of calming them down and distracting them at least a little.

 

B'ran closes his eyes, swallows. His jaw setting, he opens them, his hand slipping silently to Annie's shoulder. 

 

You overhear B'ran whisper "... ... ..."  to Annie.

 

Re'a returns from the baths, looking all the worse for wear. Staggering in, she's wiping the tears from her face, for well she knows, well anyone with a lifemate knows, what has passed this eve so far. A hand clutches her stomach that still rolls and dips, she stops a healer who's running from the infirmary to the middle of the dance floor to question him.

 

Tss'a places the pail down by Adrick. "Water here sir, right here." She steps back, over to Ri, stepping out of the way of several people who bustle by her. "Ri? Wingleader?" Trying to be a rock in the storm, holding out a hand to the older greenrider.

 

Annie remains hunched over J'ak's stiff form, staring at his face with teary eyes, as if she could force him into wakefulness. Unfortunately, Zhavia has taken the moment to collapse in a heap on the floor. Commotion there causes her to turn around, and -- seeing the chaos of a fallen Lady-to-be -- she screams at the top of her lungs, voice cracking, "What is going /on/ here?" It is really a banshee-shriek.

 

K'no perks up and turns around to face Adrick.  "Ah.. Lord Holder.  It's through there, sir."  K'no points towards the Infirmary's entryway.  "Do you need help getting Zhavia there?  H... Zhavia!"  K'no blinks as she collapses and moves to her side quickly.  "Not ill my broken straps!"

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Kahlendroth pulls together the shatters and shards of the recent passing, allowing a brief moment before calling to order in all of the chaos << Telgar mourns. And Telgar is in danger. There will be no person or dragon to leave this Weyr now. >>

 

Siyana arrives.

 

Hallin takes the glass from the ineffectual little man.. "let me.. " A sniff, and a very delicate dip of finger, licked and he sighs. "Lord Adrick? We need to induce vomiting immediately. The Lady has been poisoned with aconite."

 

Riko still holds one glass close, even if the Healer has taken the other from him. He stands near Adrick, eyes darting back and forth. No one is going to get at Adrick on /his/ watch, especially with Zhavia... ill.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Liuth Voice heavy with the scent of grief and jasmine, passes the word.. >> Skyskimmers, heed the Weyrleader.<<

 

Adrick stoops down, and gathers Zhavia up into his arms in one swift motion, before rising, barely feeling the woman's weight in his hands.   Clutching her to him desparately, he nods at Hallin.  "Maybe we could put her on the table?"  Which means that someone needs to finish the job that the Steward started when he collapsed.  "Zhavia, don't you dare die."  He says softly.

 

Tarlin finds Annie and B'ran and almost ventures asking if either of them have seen Sk'lar, her face a mask of fear.  She snaps her mouth closed, swallows down her emotions and answers the Weyrwoman in a dead tone, "I - I think the wine was poisoned."  She twines her fingers in the edge of her tunic, her brows furrowing in dismay.  How could this be happening to /her/?

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Serath rumbles a firm, still mourning, tone to her Weyr. << No one shall leave or come. >> And no dragon disobeys a gold.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Ailaeth raises her voice, calming the younger weyrling dragons in the barracks. <<Weyrlings, report to the barracks and wait for the AssitantWeyrlingmasters. >>

 

Ri looks up at K'no.. it was K'no, yes? "I'm fine.. really.." Her heart is wretched, but hearing Hallin's comment..shudders.. "He was poisoned with Aco.. Where would they get that? It's strictly a healing herb!"

 

Re'a frowns as the drudge does nothing but mumble about people being poisoned and searches for someone, anyone, who could tell her just what has happened here.

 

Sk'lar shakes his head to a rider, fairly growling, "No! Nobody is to leave. Not until we find out what the bloody shards is going on here. Get someone to the entrance now! I want to know of /everyone/ has come or gone from there, or if anyone has left. NOBODY is to leave the Weyr. Got that? NOBODY!" He fairly shoves the rider towards the entrance to speed him on his weyr. "Get your fardling lifemate to sit in front of the sharding thing."

 

K'no looks over at Tarlin and calls out, "Tarlin, where'd that case of wine come from, then?  Do you remember?"  K'no looks from the cook to the Lady-holder-to-be and, like bad magician, yanks the tablecloth off of the table, taking the few remaining glasses with it.  Crash, tinkle, yo.  "There, put her on the table.  Do you need help?"

 

"The wine?" Annie stares at Tarlin with a mixture of shock and disbelief strewn across her features. "What wine? The wine /we/ drank?" She turns an even whiter shade of pale. She stands up sharply, rocking on her slippered heels.

 

Carid is, strangely, in her element as soon as Adhaith passes on Kahlendroth's orders.  This is guard stuff.  This is what she trained for and is good at; she moves away from a knot of people, absently fingering, well, her currently hidden knife.  Expression grim and oddly determined, she pushes towards Sk'lar.  "Adhaith is on guard, Weyrleader.  Can I do anything else for the moment to help?

 

Ri says, "Tss'a? Go see how the newest candidates are doing? They must be terrified at this point." She stands, wobbles an dgrabs a chair. "Now please."

 

Zhavia is still slightly awake, but she's rapidly slipping that way. Loose and limp within Adrick's arms, she watches everything with a faint bemusement. " I'm.. not.. i..." And at that point she slips off into unconciousness.

 

Tarlin nods slowly, her own features paling, then flushing in turn.  "I think it was the wine from the first toast."  She grimaces.  "I assumed..."  She stops, her eyes go wide, and before anyone can ask, she races towards the kitchens.

 

Tss'a salutes her wingleader. "Yes, ma'am! Right away." Despite chaos, despite screams and death and pain, she dashes through the crowds to the bowl. Girl on a mission.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Adhaith rumbles with grim confidence.  <<I watch.  No one will leave Telgar.>>

 

Tss'a strides with determination and purpose toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.

 

"To the infirmary now, Lord Adrick.." As he heads that way himself, Hallin stops by Sk'lar. "It's aconite, she won;t die if I have any say in it.. but it's only in our hands.. You find out who did this!" And the healer stomps off.

 

Skalar pops in from ::between::

 

Adrick nods, following Hallin as she says to go to the Infirmary.   To K'no, he gives a sort of apologetic look.   "Tell your Weyrwoman I'll explain everything once I'm certain Zhavia'll be alright."   He says, before quickly following the Healer, not even feeling the weight of his beloved.

 

X'ver has arrived.

 

K'no looks at the mess he made of the table and walks off, whistling innocently.  "Sure, Lord Holder."  The man moves slowly over to Annie and taps her shoulder.  "Annie?  Adrick had to go to the infirmary with his lady... He said he'd explain everything when she's okay.  The healer they ran off with said she'll be okay if he has any say in it."  And that's the end of the brownrider's messanger duty.  Now he's just deadweight, if you'll excuse the pun.

 

Tarlin seems to glide, with a gentle bounce in her step, toward Telgar Kitchens.

 

Kaytie is back and playing with the others; some things just can't get past a harper's training, and her fingers are once more sure on the harp.  The group is moving from one melody to the other, mixing the somber with the upbeat with scarce consideration for what might considered proper order.

 

Sk'lar's sparkling gaze alites upon Carid as she comes up to him. Finally! Someone of use to him. "See if you can't get together a few more of the guards to watch the entrances. /All/ the entrances. And someone to the kitchens as well. All the liquid and food will be suspect." He blinks, glancing back over towards them. How is he supposed to keep people in a Weyr where any of the food and drink could be poisoned. He frowns slightly, glancing about, "Where is Annie...?"

 

X'ver may have been a healer once, but he's not up to a job like this one. Instead, the bluerider hovers unnoticed in a convenient shadow, trying to think of something helpful to do.

 

B'ran slaps K'no's hand away before it can tap, pushing his hand outward toward the rider. "Stand back, brownrider," he orders. Whether his hand makes contact or not is not his concern, but the man blocks K'no's access nonetheless. "And /I/ was responsible for the wine at the head table. It was from my personal stock of Benden." His eyes narrow. 

 

Annie is still standing there, wobbling in the middle of the dance floor, face ghostly pale. Seeing the frightening look on the Weyrwoman's face, people have edged away from her, and she stands alone. Color fades more from her face, and freckles stand out like so many brilliant dots. "The /wine/?" she moans again in disbelief, before it all overcomes her, and her eyes roll back as she collapses to the floor, completely spent from such a sevenday of unmanageable stress.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Serath raises her cry again over the link, this time in pure, personal distress. A dreadful shout: << My Annie! >>

 

K'no draws his hand back as it's smacked.  Sharding Bronzeriders.  "Then you poured the wine in Zhavia's and the Crom Steward's glasses?"  K'no peers at the bronzer suspiciously.  "Then answer me this: did anyone else touch the glasses /other/ than you?"  K'no notices the goldrider's collapse and winces.  "Ouch."  But his attention is on B'ran.

 

Re'a finds herself near K'no and B'ran where the questions are raised about the wine. "But that wasn't the same wine they drank for the toast... that was brought from the kitchen by that server boy for Tarlin.. remember?" Still looking a bit pale, the greenrider looks to Annie, and watches as the goldrider hits the floor in a heap. She should be happy about that, shouldn't she, after all that trouble Annie has been giving her? But now, she rushes towards Annie as fast as her trembling legs can take her.  Leaning over, she slaps the goldrider a few times to bring her round. Take that, you... witch.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Liuth sends her own sorrowridden voice out.. <<Ri is there, she will help >> Soothing scents of sandlewood and green tea, easing the tension as she speaks.

 

Sk'lar spots Annie just as she falls to the floor. He seems to jolt at the sigh. "Not her too..." His face seems to pale at least three shades as he hurridly has the lifemate bespeak Serath as to her welfare. "Get some guards to the infirmary as well. Healers..." Hopefully someone caught that order as he quickly pushes his way towards Annie.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Tirelth jumps in mental shock, even his deft control of emotion wavering at the sound of a gold's distress. Swiftly, effortlessly, he weaves white and blue together, icey cool and diamond hard to ward himself from the panic and pain that still echoes through dragon minds. A brief splurt of grey-tinged bubbles is sent Serath-wards, surrounding in shared worry.

 

B'ran doesn't wait to see K'no's response, Annie's collapse caught at the corner of his gazed. "Annie!" Turning swiftly, he catches only her head in time. "Shard-dust. Sk'lar! Get a healer!" Scooping a hand under the weyrwoman's rumpled body, he lifts her swiftly, bulldozing hsi way past K'no. "Out of the way. I can't deal with you, now, K'no." He passes near Sk'lar, not pausing on his way to the infirmary. "She's collapsed, Sky."

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Serath raises quite the ruckus as her lifemate is unconcious. No dragon will sleep well on Pern tonight.

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Ailaeth sends calming thoughts to the gold as she's told by her own lifemate that the Weyrwoman is fine.

 

Ri snaps her head up.. "K'no! Mind your leaders and back down!" her voice cracks as she actually gets to Annie's side "May I check her pulse, B'ran?"

 

(Kahlendroth) [*] Adhaith manages calm, despite his queen's distress.  <<My rider needs others to assist her.  The Weyrleader asks her to gather others to guard all the entrances and the kitchen.>>  What a nice little brown parrot he is.

 

K'no steps to the side as B'ran brushes past him and he glares at his back.  "I don't care, Re'a.  He says he po...  Where'd Tarling go?!"  K'no looks around the caverns and smacks his forehead.  Then a brilliant thought runs across his head.  He ignores Ri's shoud and zips off into the kitchens.

 

K'no walks toward Telgar Kitchens.

 

(Kahlendroth) Serath sees:  Kahlendroth seems to curl himself about Serath, not just in mind but in form. << Go softly, my one >> The rocking rhythm of lapping waves warms with the enveloping of the tropics. << They take care of her >>

You paged B'ran with: From afar, Sk'lar nods. If they know it is just a faint, but they might think she would be sick as well... otherwise, the infirmary.

 

(Kahlendroth) [-] Serath is almost inconsolable. << /Make/ them take care of her. >>

 

Carid decides now is not the time to point out that they don't *have* other guards, instead snapping off what may be the crispest and most genuine salute the Weyrleader will ever see out of her before hurrying off to round up, instead, other riders to help with the task, snapping orders and sending people scurrying in several different directions to cover various exits.

 

Bendigo walks in from Infirmary.

 

B'ran stops near Ri, nodding, placing Annie on a table already cleared carefully. "She just collapsed," he offers in the most helpless mannor he's shown all evening. He glances toward Sk'lar. "I swear I had nothing to do with the poisoning, Weyrleader." Then he spies Bendigo. "Over here, healer! The weyrwoman is down!"

 

Skalar slips in from *between*, screaming at the top of his lungs as he moves to hover over Zhavia and Adrick, panicking at the sight of his bondmate unconcious in the Lord Holder's arms. The bronze beats his wings at anyone who comes close, before moving to perch atop her stomach, crooning frantically.

 

Annie's cheeks brighten in color -- in the form of Re'a sized handprints -- as slaps' marks appear on her face. As she is being set on the table, she stirs, groaning. "Giddoffamee," she can barely be heard mumbling.

 

Bendigo ducks his head as a firelizard batters around his head "Stop it" he says irratably, wiping off the travel dust from his outfit and then looking around the room mystified at the crowd and then he pauses as he hears a call fro Bendigo and then weyrwoman and he moves into action and sprints across the room to where he has been called "Poison?" he asks and looks around for further confirmation

 

Hallin spies master Bendigo and hurries to his side, "Ben there's a lady here, taken more aconite's then good for her.." He points to Lord Adrick and the lady Zhavia in his arms. "She needs immediate attention. We lost two already." That last is added in an undertone for Master Bendigo's ears.

 

Sk'lar's heart seems to jump into his throat at the sight of Annie, "Is she sick?! Is she-" He cuts off as he just stares at B'ran as if he has just been covered by purple spots and has growns horns. "What? What do you mean by...?" As Annie comes around at all the slapping she is getting, Sky nearly collapses in thankfullness, turning his attention away from the fellow rider and to the goldrider. "Annie?"

 

Yep, Re'a slapped the woman, and she /liked/ it. She really liked it. Too bad B'ran had to come and sweep her into his arms and carry her off before Re'a could hit her a few more times. Talk about ruining a girl's bit of fun!

 

Adrick carries Zhavia into the infirmary, depositing her on the nearest bed, looking up at the healers with worry and alarm.   He doesn't know how to induce vomitting, or she would be by now

 

B'ran leaves one hand under Annie's head, the other gently lifting the hair from her face, /strangely decorated with red handprints/, away from where the healers may need to administer. His glance finds Ri, already working on Annie before Bendigo arrives. "Is it the poisoning?" he echoes Sk'lar's similar questioning. His hand begins to stroke her hair as he gazes back on the woman. "Shh, Annie. Keep still, little one," his soft baritone urges. "Let the healers examine you."

 

Bendigo looks askance at Hallin and shakes his head "I go away for a few and look what happens"  He glances at Annie who seems to have come around and then to where Hallin has indicated "Aconite?  Faranth above who gave aconite to them?  Can we move them into the infirmary where they can have better treatment,.  I don't know what it is, we will have to examine her."  He looks towards B'ran "Can you move the weyrwoman into the infirmary, more comfortable than a table" he eyes the slap marks and then nods at Hallin "Take me to them."  He frowns and mutters "Two"  He nods at Adrick.

 

Tss'a has arrived.

 

Tss'a steps quickly over towards Ri, pushing through the crowds to try and reach her Wingleader. "Scuse me... pardon me..."

 

Ri after a few gentle proddings, the little rider can find something to smile about.. finally. "No B'ran, she's got a strong heartbeat. She just seems stressed." Wonder why?

 

Annie opens her eyes slowly, pain ripping through her head. "Wha-/at/?" she groans at Sk'lar, trying to focus on that annoying face she was so close to just nights ag-- she moans again, trying to get /that/ thought out of her head. "M'fine. Lemme up. This's m'party." Her words are still a bit slurred, but she manages to push herself up on her elbows and swing her legs over the edge of the table. Wouldn't you just /know/ her dress is /ruined/?

 

Carid looks around, silent inquiries to Adhaith reassuring her of newly-covered exits, along with vague confirmation from her little green firelizard and the evidence of her own eyes.  "Wonderful.  Adhaith, let the Weyrleader's dragon know..."  With a last glance for the Weyrwoman and the rest, the brownriding guard strides for another exit to post herself by, a knife appearing in her hand from seemingly out of thin air.

 

Hallin motions Master Bendigo over to where Lord Adrick carried the Lady Zhavia. "The weyr knows about the poison. We lost a rider." Obviously, no one misses that sort of dragon keen.."and the Crommite Steward is gone."

 

B'ran catches Bendigo's order, then peers over at Ri. "Infirmary or weyr, healer?" When Annie tries to rise, the man steadies her. "Annie. You're not... well." Is that a drunken slur? "Ri?" he holds onto the weyrwoman. "Look. Just tell me where you want her. I'll throw her over my shoulder if I have to."

 

(Kahlendroth) [-] Adhaith interjects with the anticipation of a hunt, the calm of rainfall roiled a bit by the storm of the events.  <<Carid has gotten others to stand guard, and all the entrances are being watched, as are the kitchens.  I stand watch at Telgar's entrance.>>  Regal confidence colors his words a royal blue.

 

Re'a is still not feeling all that well as she disappears for the bathroom again with a loud groan. "Not agaaaain.."

 

Bendigo shakes his head, reassured at Ri's words and he leaves the care of the weyrwoman to Ri, adding softly as he moves away "Don't stand up too quickly, would not like to see the effects of that"  HE glances to where Adrick has moved Zhavia "I need my instruments to fully examine her."  He gently rests a palm on her forehead to guage temperature and then picks up her arm to feel for pulse "How long has she been like this, tell me what has been happening Hallin" he says briskly, beginning the observation "I think we should move her away from all this noise and stress and begin purging her."

 

People are still sick from the fish, many laying on the floor outside the baths, craddling buckets and pails. The echo of moans from the resident dorms makes an eery accompaniment to the harper's music that's played off in the corner.

 

Sk'lar glances from Ri to Annie, his color slowing starting to return. A breath... give him a moment. "I swear by the first egg, Annie! You are about the most fardling aggravating excuse for a Weyrwoman, I have /ever/ had the horror to know! Shaffit, don't you ever do that again!" He nervously drags fingers through his hair before standing, tyring to keep the scared-stiff part of him back. He mutters another curse, before taking a few long steps away to talk with a couple more riders, and then hesitating, "Ri? I need you."

 

Ri says, "She's not poisoned that I can tell, but take her to the infirmary, so one of the healers can watch her for  abit." Ri sighs as she speaks, her own distended belly putting it's own stresses on her. "She will be fine, B'ran, I'm sure." She hopes, but Annie isn't showing any signs of the poison illness."

 

Zhavia's pulse is slow, sluggish, her skin cool and clammy to the touch. Her chocolate complexion is a chalky white, and her breathing is coming in soft gasps. She's completely unconcious, limp upon the surface, the bronze Skalar still hovering protectively on her stomach, crooning unhappily.

 

Carid strides purposefully toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.

 

Annie has been thrown over far too many shoulders in the past few days, and she simply /won't/ stand for another. She is now sitting on the table's edge, pretty dress crumpled, and head hanging slightly. "I'll be /fine/." Her words are clearer now. "I just got a little dizzy... with Serath so upset..." But as Sk'lar's words reach her, full color returning to her face. "Sk'lar!" she can now fully /scream/ at her Weyrleader. "Get back here and dontcha talk to me that way!" Look -- Annie's better.

 

Tss'a steps up finally to Ri, saluting the Weyrleader since he's close by. Her determined gaze flashes between the two of them; "is there anything I can do? Anything at all? Aiswenath's standing by if she can assist, too."

 

Adrick backs away from Zhavia, unwilling to leave her, but knowing he has to let the Healer's have space to work.   But he is going to stay in the infirmary and wait for any news.

 

Ri grabs Tss'a's arm as she slowly stands straight. "Could you se what Sk' wants, please?" her own face none to tanned and healthy looking.

 

Bendigo frowns as he concentrates, not liking what he hears and feels and he asks his questions again "When did she lose conciousness, how long have people been unwell."  he glances towards the ill people and then returns to his main patient and glances at Hallin "Charcoal and..."  he pauses "Charcoal first I think to purge her stomach of all contents but it is probably in her blood stream by now due to the effects she is showing but lets start with a purge and then we can move onto the other effects once we know that it is all gone from her stomach."

 

B'ran nods at the healer and despite Annie's obvious anger at Sk'lar and her insistance on being okay, B'ran again, scoops one hand under the weyrwoman's legs, another at her back and holding her tightly, less she beat him up (a fate worse than death, eh, Sk'lar?) or try to get loose or any futile thing like that, he tightens his grip on her. "Yell at him all you like, Annie. You are going to the infirmary!" Better or not. Briskly, he passes through the healer's doors into the infirmary and sits her down on a comfy bed. "Yell at him from here if you must, my little lady." He uses the name of her childhood that he has for her. Oh boy.

 

Re'a decides to head off to her weyr, perhaps a bit of her wishing she'd just stayed home now.

 

Re'a walks lightly with a song and a smile toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.

 

"I swear on Faranth's egg, I will scream if you do not set me down this instant," Annie hisses at B'ran-- wait! Was the /Re'a/ she just saw?

 

Sk'lar seems to be getting Tss'a instead of the Wingleader he really wanted to have before him. He ignores Annie's bellowing at him for a moment, closing his eyes as she yells his name. A breath, then he looks to Tss'a. "I want Skyskimmer assembled, find out who is able to and who isn't. Pair people by twos and set them to guarding the supplies, the kitchen. I also want two people in the infirmary. Someone mentioned something that only healers use was used to poison." A breath later and he is looking back to Annie as B'ran takes her out.  Guess he still is going to have to do some of this on his own...

 

Hallin moves with surprising grace and speed, and promptly finds a delicate flexible reed and a bottle of.. 'stuff' a liquid charcoal formula that will allow the healing process to start. "Beg pardon, Lord Adrick, this doesn't look very nice.." And he well, does what has to be done..

 

Tss'a listens to both, salutes both, and closes her eyes for a moment. In the hustle and bustle of the 'caverns, there's an easier way to do this, and coming from the top as it is, she knows Aiswenath will listen.

 

K'no walks into Main Living Cavern.

 

Well, anyway, Annie is set on a bed, and she sits there comtemplatively for a moment, catching her breath, then she stands, ducks past anyone who might try to catch her, and heads out across the cavern, after Sk'lar. "Sk'lar!" she calls at him, wobbling a bit -- but steady in general -- as she goes after him. "Sk'lar! The Weyr must be closed at this /insta/-- oh..." She is told by her lifemate that he's already done that. Shardit, the teenager is not supposed to have leadership skills! "Tell me what is happening right now!" She tries to stand in front of him, but ultimately decides that plopping heavily into a chair is the better idea.

 

K'no walks in with Tarlin and beelines to Sk'lar.  "Sk'lar.  We've got a lead.  Tarlin and the other cooks say the boy who poured the wine dissappeared shortly afterwards.  They thought he was a helper, but apparently he just started today.  That's our man.  Or boy.  Tarlin, do you think you'd recognize him if you saw him again?"  K'no peers at Tarlin curiously.

Ri is breathing.. deep long breaths.. trying to settle the uneasy feeling she is having. Not in her stomache, but from her back and wrapping around her full abdomen... Muttering under her breath.. "Ohhh no, don't you dare... Hunter isn't even here..." And hoping no one notices she is talking to herself.

 

(Kahlendroth) Aiswenath bespeaks all the 'skimmer dragons: << The Weyrleader orders us assembled! There are to be pairs of people guarding the infirmary, the supplies, and the kitchen, immediately. My Other moves towards the kitchen entrance now. >>

Zhavia stirs slightly upon the bed, groaning. Her hand waves slightly, but there's no strength to the movement, and she slides back down again, unresponsive, but still alive.

 

Sk'lar seems to remember something as he issues the orders. He frowns for a long moment, waving his hand at someone to stop their nattering at him so he can organize his thoughts. "Who did they say that the wine came from again..." The name seems to escape him once more as he is suddenly approached by K'no and Tarlin. He is about to growl out a rough shushing when their words hit him. "The boy... that little stammering?" And that is about all he recalls of the kid, so he looks back to Tarlin, "Would you? How about if we get you a Harper to draw up a sketch, to hand out?"

 

Tss'a stands herself in front of the kitchen entrance, as ordered by the Weyrleader. She worked in these kitchens for quite some time - though that was two turns ago. Only those she recognizes as long-term workers here are allowed through.

 

K'no looks at Sk'lar another moment and says, "If I may be so bold to say that prehaps we should pair a cook who saw the boy up with a rider or a guard and use those groups to comb the weyr?  If he's still in the weyr and you have us quarintined in time, he'll be found.  Send the sketch around to surrounding holds, as well.  He couldn't have gotten too terribly far on foot."  K'no looks back towards the infirmary, and then to Tarlin.  "What do you say, Tartar?  You up for it?"

 

Bendigo nods at Hallin and then glances around the room, scanning while he waits for the process to begin and he spots Annie leaving and he snaps his fingers "Someone stop her" who cares if she is the weyrwoman, she is a patient and not allowed to leave until given leave by a healer.  He steps after her and looks through the exit from infirmary to living cavern and shakes his head "Whose looking after these other sick people."  he scans the crowd looking for people caring for their needs."  He turns back to see how Zhavia is going and he nods at the Lord Holder "If you want to hold her hand, reassure her that you are here we will push you out of the way if you get in our way.  Just talk to her for once the syrup starts working she will want to purge everything that is in her system."  He frowns "Do we know what is wrong with the others Hallin," he asks "This aconite do we think that they have had it as well, though they are purging so that is good, now we need something to settle their stomachs."  He sighs, probably just as good he cannot see Ri's condition at the moment as he moves towards the table where the herb preparation takes place and he begins mixing some herbs together.

Annie still sits in her chosen chair, baleful stare focussed upon Sk'lar as he ignores her. She /hates/ being ignored. Hearing Bendigo order her return, she slyly wraps her ankles around the legs of the chair, securing herself there rather well. "Sk'lar!" she snaps at her Weyrleader again. "I am /ordering/ you to tell me what is going on-- /right this second/."

 

Tarlin opens her mouth to reply, then snaps it shut again.  She shakes her head, mute dismay slumping her shoulders and bearing down upon her lids.  It's all her fault.  "I can try," she mutters.

 

The Sr. jman eases the tube from the Headwoman's mouth, just takes time now... "Seems there was also some bad food. Apparently the wine came from a few chosen glasses at a toast." Far be it from him to make any judgements.

 

Riko is still around, but at this point he's just lurking near a corner of the cavern, clutching one of the poison-bearing wineglasses, and eyeing his Lord and Lady-to-be with complete worry.

 

Adrick does step forward then, his hand seeking hers, holding it tightly.  "You're going to be fine, my love."  He murmurs softly.  He really doesn't know what else he's supposed to say.

 

B'ran curses softly, as turning to catch Ri and sit her down on her own bed, "Healer over here. I think Ri's in labor!" and turning back sees that Annie has slipped out. "Shard dust, Annie. Can't you keep still!" And he is gone, siftly borne to the living cavern just in time to see her fall into the chair. "I did," he answers Sk'lar. "I provided the Benden white." He slows to a halt behind Annie's chair, narrowing his eyes at K'no, daring him to continue the string started when Annie was kissing the dance floor with her nose.

 

Aida wends her way among the clusters of people in the cavern, assuring some, reassigning others, and generally trying to maintain some order in the place.  She makes her way eventually to where K'no and Tarlin are reporting to Sk'lar, in time to hear their suggestion about looking for the missing lad.  "We can line people up, get their names and some basic information about them too.  No one's supposed to have left, right?" she puts in briskly.

 

Sk'lar reaches a hand up to rub at his forehead, wincing slightly. He looks to K'no, "Ask the others... Annie, B'ran, those Holders, Aida, see if they remember seeing him. Otherwise, I'll just have the riders round up everyone about so high. Which will... Aida!?" Yeah, time to call for the WeyrSecond now. He seems to frown at his own mentioning of B'ran's name, and the frown deepens as the bronzer arrives. "What happened with it?"

 

K'no puts his hand on Tarlin's shoulder and smiles down at her.  "Tarlin, don't be silly.  If you help us catch this boy, you and all your cooks'll be heroes.  Buck up, Tarlin.  All's not lost yet."  K'no looks to Sk'lar to await his reply.  "We must act quickly, Sk'lar.  Char the Thread while it's in the air and whatnot."  K'no blatently ignores B'ran.  He's not the number one suspect, but he's not off the list.  But K'no's not in a position to make this common knowledge.  When Sk'lar acknowledges his request, he turns to Tarlin.  "Go round up your cooks and bring 'em in here.  We'll see if we can't get a more descriptive--er--description of our culprit than pale, dull and short."

 

After being dosed with the charcoal solution, Zhavia begins to retch, bringing back up the scant contents of her stomach as she leans over the side of the bed, the direction she'd been rolled.

 

Aida turns to B'ran expectantly, her food-splattered leathers and funereal expression belying the energy flashing in dark eyes.  Beyond him, Ri seems to be all right, so she doesn't step away from her Weyrleader -- yes, /him/ -- merely waits for his next instruction.

 

Annie glowers -- simply /glowers/ -- at Sk'lar. She is being ignored. And despite everything else, she simply cannot /stand/ being ignored. Her face reddens (ah, there's that healthy glow!). "Seeing who? Who's him? Sk'/lar/, you arrogant little twit, I am just as much a leader of this Weyr as you think you are, so /tell me what is going on right now/." She pauses, takes a deep breath, and seems totally back to her Annie-ish self. See how effective she can be? Sit in the chair and yell at him. Good Annie.

 

Ri is holding her abdomen, eyeing Journeyman Bob as he approaches.. What, Ginger's not on duty? Great.. "Bob, I don't know.. I'm.. " Breathe, breathe, breathe.. "Shards, I can't be!"

 

Tarlin nods at K'no and wanders off to the kitchens, hugging herself.

 

Bendigo stops what he is doing and moves back towards Zhavia once the solution kicks in to ensure that the bowl placed there, well is being put to good use.  "Good" he murmurs, though perhaps his facial expression does not reflect that he thinks it is good.  B'ran's words filter through and he glances at Ri and smiles reassuringly and nods to see Bob is there and he can continue his work "Aconite"  he shakes his head and begins refeeling for Zhavia's vitals, pulse, skin temperature, not wanting her body to become overstressed from the purging.

 

The Sr. healer stays at Zhavia's side, easing her as best he can, but what must happen must happen. As the woman slows her retching, he nods and eases a warm damp cloth across her face. "May I bring you some water, lady? Be good for your mouth and stomach now." He looks past to cathc Master Bendigo's eye. She's done with the purge.

 

And to think Sk'lar actually lusted after the knot he currently is wearing. Stupid, stupid teenager. How is this for a baptism into weyrleaderhood? He flickers a glance to Aida, "I'll leave you to try and find this kid... get the rest of the wing after him as well. Search the weyr from the starstones to the furthest caverns. He couldn't have gotten out that quickly -nobody mentioned seeing anyone leave the weyr since the beginning of the party." He takes a long breath, totally missing Tarlin's exit, before looking back towards Annie, finally approaching her.

 

B'ran furrows his brow. Hands slipping to behind his back again, he begins. "Annie asked me to help her account for the details of the etiquette and diplomatic situation. The steward was complaining about the wine and I knew this was important to Annie so I asked a young drudge lad to get one of my personal stock cases of Benden white." His eyes meet those of his former Wingleader. "The lad returned with the wine, filled all the glasses and chilled the remains." One brow rises. "That's really all I know, WeyrSecond." Of Sk'lar and Annie's exchange, he doesn't pay attention, really.

 

K'no watches the bronzerider walk off after giving a command out and rolls his eyes.  "Aida, you might want to grab a few cooks as well.  They would have seen him the most.  That's probably your best bet on finding him."  K'no watches Tarlin's retreat and sighs.  Looks like most everything's under control now, though.  Might be time for him to light out.

Yellow curls upon herself till there's nothing left but a golden, snoozing ball.

Annie stares at Sk'lar with challenging eyes, arms folded across the wine-splashed bodice of her once-lovely gown. "Finally found the time to pay attention to little old me, /Weyrleader/?" she baits.

 

Zhavia doesn't respond to the healer, shaking her head sluggishly as she finally ends the purge, fingers gripping weakly at the skirt of her dress. She regains conciousness slightly, though her pulse and breathing remain erratic, and her skin retains the cool, clammy sensation.

 

Aida nods at B'ran's report, waving several available riders over.  "You -- take B'ran's statement.  You -- get more writing materials.  And you guys, round up everyone, divide them into weyrfolk and holdfolk, and within the weyrfolk, I want the cooks and kitchen assistants and servers separated from the others."  There's a lot more instructions tumbling out of her, but she makes it as clear as she can.

 

Tss'a just stands - as ordered, by the kitchen doors, still allowing only those people she recognizes as authoritive in the kitchens to come in or out. Another 'skimmer rider arrives shortly thereafter to stand on the other side of the doors.

 

Wide-eyed drudges and sleepy/scared cook's assistants tumble into the room, immediately shepharded into a corner of their own. Mumbled comments cannot be individualy understood.

 

Sk'lar shoots a wary glance at B'ran, flickering another back to Aida to make sure she is taking care of it. He has to take care of something else different at the moment. From where Annie sits, Sky drops into a crouch before her, speaking quietly despite her hard words, "I apologize, Annie, but I just wanted to make sure everything was getting done. Feeling better?" He truly was worried back there, but the hard look to his face shows none of it now.

 

K'no runs his fingers through his hair and sighs.  "I need a /drink/."  K'no walks over to the wine tables--for the fourth time today--pours himself a glass of Tillik white and downs it in one gulp.  He gasps and says, "I'm gettin' too old for this..."  The rider hears one of Aida's orders and wags his hand.  "Yeah yeah, I'll do it then."  K'no walks over to the kitchen's entrances and at that moment, a herd of them decide to pour out.  The rider hops back out of the flow and says, "By the shell!  Watch where yer' going!"  K'no mutters and looks into his empty glass.  "Alright, how many of you saw the new kid who was pouring the wine today, hm?"

 

Bendigo smiles and nods at Hallin, in recognition of his work and then nods towards Ri "See if she's alright can you and if anyone else... two?" he asks again and shakes his head and turns back to Zhavia, still not happy but glad that well the healing process has at least begun.  Basin is handed to the nearest person/drudge/ apprentice to dispose of it and he moves across to his herbal potions, glancing over the pots, pausing he adds one last ingredient and returns and looks at Adrick "You are going to have to sit her up please so I can help her drink this"  at least she is semi-concious and can hopefully swallow onher own once the mixture is introduced to her mouth, not pushed down a reed again "M'lady" he begins "We are going to help you sit up, you are going to have to drink this, it won't be the best taste but once you get this down we can give you something to rinse your mouth out."  He nods again at Adrick and then positions his potion cup ready to dose Zhavia at the right moment

 

B'ran turns to the nearest recorder of statements, nodding his head as he recounts the scenario he's just unfolded. Responding to the young rider's questions as completely as possible, he pauses when asked about the lad's appearance. "He was a little less than two meters tall, slim, dark haired, tanned, as if from the fields. Brown eyes, smallish nose, perhaps a little lanky as if still in his final growth spurt." His brow furrows. "And come to think of it, he had a scar on his face...here." B'ran points to his right jawline. "Just under the ear. Or...maybe it was a tatoo of some sort."

 

Zhavia mumbles something incoherent, wincing as Adrick levers her into a sitting position, her fingers moving to find his and grip them as strongly as she can. His murmurs of encouragement are ignored as the would-be Lady stares into Bendigo's face, eyes unfocused and confused.

 

Hallin nods in return and heads over to the pregnant greenrider, neatly intercepting Bob as he approaches. "See to the stomach ailments, the ones who ate the fish.." Bob is dispatched and Hallin settles by Ri. "So, having your baby, Ri? Or just trying to scare us some more?' As he speaks, he casually checks pulse, skin tone and general health.

 

Aida nods approvingly as K'no takes the lead with the group of kitchen workers, then turns to listen to the end of B'ran's statement.  "No name?  We don't even know what he called himself?" she growls, latent anger misdirected at her former wingsecond.  "What kind of operation were they running anyway?  Where's Tarlin?"  Her head snaps around, looking for the junior cook, but she's gone already.

 

Annie continues to sit in her chair, ankles still wrapped 'round the legs. "I feel fine," she admits, expression still hardened. "I have had a hard sevenday." Serath getting flown by Sk'lar's dragon and /this/ party all in one sevenday? Who /wouldn't/ lose it. "This is supposed to be a /wonderful/ occasion, and-- and--" She begins to stumble over her words, lower lip trembling. "Ohhh, /bloody/ /shards/." She gives into the emotion of it all, and buries her face in her palms, shoulders beginning to shake as she cries. .../Cries/? The Hardened Weyrwoman of Telgar herself, /crying/?

 

One old cook's help pokes the rider.. "Hey, what we up and about fer? We worked all day.. shards lottsa days.. Now we can' sleep? Was wrong wit you all?" She gives a general wild-eyed look to the disheveled room.

 

Bendigo returns the look and notes away that he wants to take a full physical of the lady once the confusion and rush is over and well she has taken her medicine.  He tilts the glass "My name is Bendigo, m'lady, your healer and you will be fine, just drink this and swallow and all will be well."  He glances at Adrick but decides not to begin a conversation with him just yet about how long the lady holder will have to stay in the infirmary just yet.  He glances at the corner of his eye and watches Hallin deal with RI and Bob with those who have been food poisoned and then back to Zhavia.

 

Tss'a stands resolutely at the door to the kitchens, despite seeing several places and people who could perhaps use her help - she's got her orders. However, she can get a message via another source - she peers towards her wingleader with worry on her face.

 

K'no shakes his head at Aida.  "Tarlin said they picked him up for the day.  They thought that he was one of the helping hands.  You can't keep track of all the faces in the weyr, so they thought he was supposed to be helping.  Said he was real compliant and followed orders."  He shrugs and adds, "It's not their fault they didn't catch a name.  And Tarlin's run off, let her be.  She's already belittled herself enough as it is."

 

Zhavia tries to reach up to take the glass, but Adrick gently bats her hands away, and she allows it to be poured down her throat. Swallowing it, she makes an expression of extreme distaste, but manages to keep it down, shuddering convulsively. " Shards..." is whispered weakly, and she shakes her head, jerking away from the empty glass. More sense comes into her eyes, and she looks wildly at Adrick, clearly pleased to see him well. " Wha- what happened?"

 

B'ran narrows his eyes at Aida, one hand slipping into his bolero pocket for a handkerchief which he offers to the weyrwoman without taking his eyes off of Aida. "How in shards would I know that, WeyrSecond?" He glances at Annie, then back to Aida. "Are you acusing me of plotting something that would hurt a Lord Holder, threaten the life of a young woman I've known since birth and result ultimately in the demise of a /dragon/?

 

Sk'lar seems to wince as he hears Tarlin's name mentioned by a familiar voice. As soon as he gets this figured out, he'll have to find her. Fardling knot. He purses his lips, looking back to Annie as she begins to weep. Oh shards. He rises once more, reaching towards the table to claim a napkin and offer it towards the Weyrwoman. "Annie? Weyrwoman? Do you need to take a moment... or would you rather I tell you what I've had done so far?"

 

"Huh," Aida grunts in response to K'no's remarks and settles for shaking her head at B'ran, fatigue overtaking ire.  "I didn't say that.  I just can't believe we don't even have a name to work with -- " and she waves the note-taking rider off to disseminate the clues among the other riders that have been dragooned into investigative work.  Looking squarely at B'ran, Aida mutters, "Things are crazy, you know?"  There might be an oblique apology somewhere in there -- might.

 

Ri nods as Hallin approaches, grateful for his interveneing with Bob. "I don't think so, Hal, I think.." She shifts to find a more comfortable position.. "I think it was more shock and surprise. J'ak..." And she can't speak, but the pains simmer down.

 

K'no snaps his finger.  "Tarlin sent him down to the cellar to pluck the wineskin from the snow.  I remember he was out of breath, too.  Like he'd been running a lot.  Creepy little fellow..."  The rider strikes a thoughtful pose, rubbing his chin again.  He walks over to a chair and sits down in it.  "If he left soon after delivering the bottle, then he's not too far outside of the weyr.  We could have some dragons do sweeps in the vicinity to see if they can find him.  Chances are that he had to escape on foot..."  The rider looks over to Aida again.

 

Annie snatches the napkin from Sk'lar with one thin hand, while the other remains over her now red-splotched face. She blows her nose into the napkin noisily and sniffs. "T-tell me--" /snnuurrrrk/ "--wh-what's been going on." Even her usually manageable hair is in a disarray, sticking out at odd angles from her head, some strands plastered to her forehead.

Yet another of the corraled kitchen crew is heard from. "That kid tweren't onna ours that I ever seed, tha's fer shure." And as someone kicks him, he yel

 

Bendigo nods at Adrick i n appreciation for what he has done.  Setting the mug aside, he reaches for basin and cool water brought to him and he smiles "We can tell you all about it soon m'lady but let us get you well first"  his face is less strained as she seems to react to what is going on around her and her vision focuses "Rinse your mouth out with that, I am sure it is tasting awful and spit it out and then you can drink the rest of the water."  He holds out the wooden cup, best thing around invalids, cannot get broken if dropped.  He continues speaking "You've been ill, seems you were given something you should not have and we are going to keep you in here for a few days until you get better, now rinse"

 

Sk'lar doesn't quite look to Annie as he speaks to her, his eyes instead focused on the assembled helpers. "As soon as the... the second death, I had the Weyr closed down." He makes a point not to mention his clutchmate's name. "We've got people on the ground's entrance, but we don't know yet if anyone left through there before everything happened. I've got Skyskimmer watching the stores, kitchens, and infirmary and my wing is going to start looking for this kid they think might have actually poisoned the wine we drank, B'ran's wine -or at least some of the goblets. Nobody else has died yet... I think..." He shoots a glance towards the entrance to the infirmary, still a little unsure.

 

B'ran takes a deep breath, then lets it flow from him with the apparent anger at his questioned honor. Nodding at the WeyrSecond, his eyes wrinkled at the edges, as if squinting, he acknowledges Aida's non-apology. He tilts hsi head at her. "Are /you/ okay?" Dead heads in the lap can be either musically pleasant or unsettling in any world. His eyes study the Weyrsecond, questioning.

 

Aida hears snatches from the kitchen workers being questioned, but leaves that to those riders to manage.  "Sk'lar, already sent half a wing to scour the area.  It's dark, but -- "  She shrugs one shoulder at the Weyrleader, then rakes one hand through her hair.  "Is anyone okay?" she asks B'ran in return.  "Look at this mess.  Even the dragons are upset.  /And/ we fly 'fall in two days," she mutters, her tone quavering, for the moment, on the edge of despair.

 

Annie wipes at her eyes with the napkin, still sniffling. She says nothing about the fact that Sk'lar might have handled things halfway decently. "And how is the Headwoman... Adrick's Lady, Zhavia?" she asks, worry creasing her brow. "And... everyone else? It seemed like so many people got sick... Were they /all/ poisoned?"

 

Ri says, "Shards!" The wingleader had forgotten about that.. Pushing Hallin's hands away with an emphatic 'I'm fine', she slowly stands and makes her way to Aida's side. "We will be fine to fly, we always are." Her eyes do a quick sweep fo the area, "There were very few riders taken ill." She won't discuss J'ak, she just won't. "We will be ready."

 

Zhavia sips the water, swishing it around in her mouth and carefully spitting it into the same bowl as earlier. Adrick slides an arm around her shoulders and looks at the Healer with some alarm. " A few days? Here? Where she almost..." He cuts himself off, muttering under his breath. Zhavia swallows some of the water and pats Adrick's arm. " I'll be fine, love," she murmurs weakly.

 

K'no leans his chair back against the table and peers at his glass.  "So then," he says to Aida, "It's a waiting game until the morning?"  The old-fart rider perks an eyebrow up at the other brownrider.  "Most of the riders are alright...  We can fly Thread when it falls.  Maybe the boy'll get eaten by it when it falls."  K'no smirks cruely and chuckles.

 

Sk'lar shakes his head from side to side, "I haven't heard anything from the infirmary yet." He more than likely growled at the person who was supposed to tell him. "But there were so many who did get sick... I'm not sure if it was just those goblets... Zhavia? That steward? And J'ak?" He frowns once more, "I think one of the Cromites said J'ak drank from Zhavia's glass." He blinks down to Annie, his look worried and questioning. "Someone was after the Cromites?"

 

Bendigo smiles and nods at Zhavia "Good"  he glances at Adrick "She'll be fine but I don't want her jolted about by either dragon or wagon and she will do better resting here."  He draws himself up to his full height (which is pretty tall and loomy) at the implied comment "Do you think that under my care she will be in danger?" he asks looking stern, the sort of look his apprentices are more used to getting "She will be perfectly safe here and I will personally see to her recovery." 

 

B'ran nods. "I heard the harper's drums sounding right before J'ak died, too." He tightens his lips. "My bet is that it's all over Pern that we poisoned the Lord Holder and his lady-to-be by now." One shoulder shrugs slightly, "And the other side of that is that whomever is responsible for this knows it was successful." K'no is summarily ignored, his comments warrenting only a glance before B'ran's attention is back on her, then toward Sk'lar. "I might have something on that. Adrick whispered something about his life being in danger just before the meal. Wasn't that fellow Rino, whatever his name was, a taster, Annie? That aid of his up near the table with us?"

 

K'no slaps his forehead.  "Yes, Sk'lar.  But... But they were only after Zhavia and the Steward, right?  Why not Adrick himself?"  K'no turns to look at Sk'lar and nods.  "That Riko kid said that J'ak grabbed Zhavia's glass and drank from it."  K'no peers at the table-cloth-less table (still looking innocent about that) and says, "Why were they just after Zhavia and the steward?  And the fish wasn't good, either.  Most everyone who ate the fish got sick too."

 

Aida glances sharply at K'no.  "I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone," she snaps, "and I certainly would rather have the boy to question than have him eaten by Thread, his secrets with him.  Are we sure it was in the glasses, then?"  Her tone is moderated by habitual respect as she turns towards the Weyrleader, but impatience still eats at her, visible in the rapid clenching and unclenching of her fists.

 

Hallin had been assured and left Ri's side to report back to Master Bendigo, but passes Sk'lar. "Most of those suffering have some stomach thing Weyrleader. They aren't halfwise as sick as those with the poison." He continues to Ben.

 

"It looks like it," Annie replies to Sk'lar, biting her lower lip. Amazing what stress can do -- she's being civil to Sk'lar! "No one in their right mind would poison a /rider/, so J'ak /must/ have been an accident." She shudders slightly as she mentions his name, remembering Serath's extreme response to the death. "But what of all /our/ residents. I even saw that Re'a was ill." Not to mention Re'a wasn't supposed to even be out of her weyr. Serves her right. She snuffles, and tilts her head to B'ran. "I don't remember his name, but he was up with Adrick the whole time, as I remember." She sighs.

 

Zhavia shakes her head at Bendigo, wincing and placing her fingertips on her temple. " Don't... don't take offence, good healer," she murmurs softly, nudging Adrick. " I'll be fine love, I promise you. I'm not going to die." Adrick's lips tighten, but he says nothing more. " Did anyone else... Healer, has anyone else... died?"

 

Ri says, "Lord Adrick?" The greenrider approaches the Lord Holder.. "Do you always travel with a taster?" Her mind is whirling. "Is it fairly common practice for you?"

 

Sk'lar drags fingers through his hair, "Annie? Someone needs to talk to them. Adrick... do you think you can?" He glances towards B'ran and then K'no, muttering, "Because Adrick has someone tasting his food from him. That's why. If that guy keeled over, then it would have all been up. Did he taste the food and drink for the others?" He arches an eyebrow, "But, if it did come from the glasses, and it took so long for it to happen, then they could have got Adrick too, easily. Food tester wouldn't have keeled over before Adrick got his glass."

 

K'no nods at Aida.  "Most definately in the glasses...  I got close enough to the cups to see the residue.  Or do you mean is it in the Wine cask too?  Do we still have that?"  K'no looks to B'ran and then to the cooks.  "Or did the kid take the wine as well?"  K'no sighs and looks to Aida when she talks about fate.  He has this to say: "Well, maybe after we found him and got everything out of him.  He deserves it."  The rider scowls and taps his chin.  When he hears Sk'lar's questions, he blinks.  "I... I don't remember him actually tasting anything...  Adrick said that he /checked/ his food and drink beforehand.  But he didn't taste anyone else's.  No sense in it, he's just there to guard Adrick, right?"

 

Bendigo smiles at Zhavia "Peacemaker are you?" he says and eyes narrow at her wincing "You have a headache?"  He pauses "It will take a little for your medicine to work, give it a little time but let me massage your head, take away some of the tension and pain."  He pauses as Hallin approaches his side "Ri alright?" he asks quietly, tinge of worry in his voice, ignoring Zhavia's question for the moment, not wanting to worry her about the deaths of others just yet.

 

Annie shrugs her shoulders. "So maybe the fouled the whole thing up. I'm /sure/ -- if anyone -- they would have wanted to kill the Lord or one of us, Sk'lar." She says that in an almost flippant way. "What good is it to kill a kid of a wingrider, a Steward, and attempt to kill a Headwoman?" Her eyes drift, though, she is losing her grasp on critical thought.

 

Tss'a remains by the door to the kitchen, preventing first one then two drudges from entering, and directing them towards the huddled group of kitchen-staff. "Sorry, nope, can't go in - Weyrleader's orders. Over there, please."

 

B'ran furrows his brows, his hands slipping form behind his back to cross on his chest. "Come to think of it, Where /is/ the food taster now?" He bites his lower lip slightly. "And why /didn't/ the taster die?" NOt that B'ran would have had /anyone/ die this night. "Perhaps we are missing something in our zeal to find this yound drudge lad." B'ran snaps his fingers. "Come to think of it, when the lad refilled Annie's cup, did you notice his hands, Annie? Didn't he have ..." B'ran touches his fingers, right near the joints where they attach to the back of his hand. "Rings on his fingers? Jewelry?"

 

The addressed healer nods. "Ri's fine.. just stress and loss of fluids. She's going to be taking it a bit easier til she delivers." He steps back and allows Ben to finish his own work.

Zhavia gives a wry smile, submitting to his minstrations. " Yes, as a matter of fact, that's my job." A flicker of confusion crosses her face and she glances side-long at Adrick. " Or was my job... I don't know, I don't want to think right now." Closing her eyes, she wraps her arms around herself and shudders. " Tell me what's happened, Healer, please. I can't stand not knowing."

 

Aida lets the various theories swirl about her, her concentration more on the riders in the background who are pursuing their investigative tasks than on the actual discussion before her.  "We'll keep searching," is all she can volunteer for now.  "The Weyr stays closed to all traffic until we've figured out where everyone is, including that kid."

 

"Oh, B'ran, I honestly don't remember. I can't remember anything." Annie grows a bit melodramatic in her fatigue. She pauses, blowing her nose again into the slimy handkerchief. "I... I think guard should remain on... all night... and that we should reconvene in a more... more private, secure location... with Adrick and his advisors in... the morning."

 

Bendigo sighs softly "You should sleep and you will be fine, don't worry I am sure you will not lose your job Zhavia but for now rest is best.  There were others injured but it seems perhaps you did not swallow as much as the others or perhaps I don't know why but the dragons were keening" he does not give full details, not yet, not while Zhavia is still healing and needs rest.  He glances at Adrick "If you promise to let her sleep you can stay by her side but she should rest, sleep is best, to help the medicine to work"

 

K'no shrugs at B'ran.  He's not ignoring him.  "Maybe they just wanted to hurt the Lord Holder?  He could still be in danger."  The rider stands and streches.  "Uhg.  I'm still getting too old for this.  I think I'll go back to my weyr to snuggle up with my 'mate.  See you in the morning.  I guess I'll join the rest of my wing watching the blasted kitchens and storage."  Hmph.  Other wings get all the fun.  K'no throws a sleepy salute to the Weyrsecond and the weyrwoman before making his way out, whistling morosefully.

 

Ri says, "It seems to me that anyone plotting the harm of the Crommites would have studied them, known Adrick had a food tester and not even attempted to taint his drink. Too unsure of being caught. And face it," She glances to the Crom couple.. "What better way to reach him then through his love?"

 

Riko slips away, now, eyes downcast. He almost let his Lord down. He should be dead now, or something fittingly extreme. He skulks off to the infirmary to find a place to sleep where he can keep an eye on his Lord and Lady-to-be.

 

Sk'lar shakes his head from side to side, murmuring softly, "And why would someone wish to even poison them... here, of all places." Someone against Crom and Telgar? He smirks at that very idea, before glancing down to Annie. "We'll keep everything secure 'til the morning, or we can find that lad. Annie, maybe you need to go see Serath for a little bit?" he suggests softly.

 

K'no walks toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.

 

Tss'a is relieved by another 'skimmer, and strides across towards her wingleader. She stays, however, several feet away until recognized, not wishing to interrupt.

 

" I just want to sleep," Zhavia murmurs, leaning into Adrick's arms. He holds her close, his face still faintly worried, and nods to the healer. " Yes, I'd like to stay with her, please."

Aida too drifts away, her stride purposeful but nowhere as strong as it was at the beginning of the evening.  She works her way around the cavern, checking on instructions, reissuing them if necessary, and collecting any written reports that have been amassed.  "Anything to report, Tassie?" she asks the greenrider when she comes to her, lapsing out-of-the-blue into that old nickname.

 

(Kahlendroth) Chesketh lifts his head and nuzzles his lifemate when he comes out.  <<You are well, right?>>  "For the hundreth time, Chesketh, I'm fine.  You're alright too, right?"  <<I am well...  Unhappy, but well.>>  "Yeah.  We're all unhappy, Chesketh, we all are."  K'no hugs his lifemate's muzzle and hops on his forearm.  "Alright, let's head home.  I'm tired and I think I've had too much wine.  Nononono, not that wine.  Tillik.  Yes, I know it's just as bad."  The rider laughs and mounts up on his brown and the pair take off.

 

Hallin, hearing Ri's voice turns and points.. "You.. to your weyr. As a senior healer I order you to rest. Especially if you plan on dealing with Thread. Now." He doesn't even wait for the Master's approval, he can see all the signs of stress on the rider's face.

 

Annie stands, just a bit wobbly, but immediately steadies herself for fear of being captured by the Healers. "We will meet an hour after sunrise tomorrow, in the council chambers, and Lord Adrick should be in attendance." And with that final decree, she heaves a heavy sigh, and nods to Sk'lar. "Serath needs me..." Or, perhaps, she needs Serath.

 

Annie treads toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.

 

B'ran lets his arms fall to his sides. "I'll volunteer to keep watch over Annie, Weyrleader." His eyes glance toward Annie, studying her.

 

Sk'lar watches B'ran for a long moment, not saying anything. It take a couple of breaths before he nods to the fellow rider. "If she so wishes is..." And with that, he is turning away, murmuring a few more orders to whoever is coming for him. Guess he won't he finding Tarlin any time soon.

 

Bendigo trusts Hallin's judgement and nods "Ok you can stay but don't get in our way."  He turns to see that the infirmary is coming to some sense of order and he pauses "Perhaps when you are feeling better we will move you into the more private room of the isolation ward but we will leave you here for now."  He begins clearing up, everyone tired and though not his job, gives him something to do and keep an eye on those around him.

 

Bendigo walks toward Infirmary.

B'ran walks toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.