After Western's Hatching

Part of this log occered during Western Weyr’s hatching and so those poses are included here (without the hatching spam) for continuity.

Western Weyr - Viewing Galleries

Row after row of hard benches to sit on, with a good view of the sands below and the action that takes place there during every hatching.. Despite the times, people still come to see the new pairs formed and place bets on the outcome.

Thea had made her way into the viewing galleries just as the first egg cracked, but paused near the entrance to watch for a few minutes. And perhaps to catch her breath. The Xanadu Weyrwoman appears to have run up the stairs -yes late. She's dressed in leathers rather than finery, so it looks like she'd been busy with something requiring riding up to the last minute. As things commence she heads further in to find a seat finding herself not too far from Th'ero and Dtirae. They're given a respectful salute and a smile before her eyes return to the sands below.

A limp of a bronzerider draws up an exotic looking man to the galleries. By some whim of fancy or a stroke of good luck, A'dmar has come to Western yet again, only this time instead of packages it is for a view of the hatching below. He settles into an empty seat and tries not to move too many people in his attempt to do as such. Fixing his clothes, he nods to those on either side, eyes turning toward the white robed forms below.

Thea has been intent on watching the hatching - fast-moving as they always are - but movement right beside her draws her attention, if only for a moment. Her intent is to offer a brief, but polite greeting and get right back to watching. "Xanadu's duties-" Oh but then she recognizes the man. "A'dmar." Okay, it's a touch formal as is her smile to go with it, but she adds, "I hope you and Yarovith have been well."

The spiderclaw wiggles his little segmented legs out of the lacy garment he was originally nesting in, moving his way under the gallery seats. My, there are plenty of little pink wiggly things and strings and… HELLO. The spiderclaw pauses at one rider, peering up, raising both pincers in the air. THAT looks favorable, indeed!

A'dmar should've in all likelihood looked before he sat for now his company is shared with a Weyrwoman. The man's brows tweak some at the familiar voice, considering her with his dark eyes. Only the stretch of his leg which he has seemed to favor with a lip on his journey over betrays his otherwise level tone, "Weyrwoman Thea," he remarks, unsurprised that she should be there but again, amazed she had a spare seat by her in the first place, "The seat was empty. If I took it from one of your riders, I will look to move if it pleases you." The politeness has him jostling in his seat, "Well is not how I would put it, Weyrwoman. Yourself? I heard there was some fuss of your visiting Ierne…"

Thea hadn't seen A'dmar come in, so she missed the limp. She is of course, a little less formal now that she knows who it is sitting beside her. "Nono, stay please. The Weyrsecond was to join me but he's been held up with complications in the search for-" Less than well? This sinks in slowly with all the noise and action down there on the sands which she still has half an eye on. "You've been ill?" Green eyes flick over him in an appraisal, but she's not seeing it. About Ierne, unsure exactly what he's heard, she merely says cautiously, "There was a bit of a dust-up, yes." Cue wry, faint smile.

A'dmar quirks an eyebrow up, "In search of what, Weyrwoman?" The curiosity of a well travelled bronzerider never fades nor dulls and while he serves none but his own, it was always a beneficial boon to see if other work was afoot. To the question of his status, he does nod, "Yes, in fact. I took with fever after a nasty spill." Or so he'll say. Eyes make toward the hatching sands for a brief interlude, but return to Thea shortly thereafter, regarding her with a knowing look as she lacks as many details as he does. "I see. I hope you were able to clean yourself up afterward. You could've dropped by and I would've seen fit to it myself. My place of business is always open for a kindly woman as yourself."

The spiderclaw continues to stand there between A'dmar's legs, debating between climbing up or getting a little friendlier with the lady friend. Surely, he can be more of a gentle-spiderclaw-men. He's cuter, after all. And look at these muscles! Okay, it's covered in shell, but it doesn't mean it's not in there!

A'dmar glances down, perhaps sensing something there or seeing some motion in the flicker of his gaze. Whatever the case is, he notes the presence of the spiderclaw and absently kicks it aside - hard enough to send it down to the next level or at least well away from him.

The spiderclaw is not AMUSED. It wriggles on the floor for a moment, little appendages flailing to get a hold of something to flip himself over and when he does, this spiderclaw is already making his way towards A'dmar with a VENGEANCE. Spiddy already has his large pincers open, stepping from side to side to dodge the large things foot if it tries it again. He must defend the lady's honor and HIS! In the name of his pretty floral lacy underthing he nests in, he will end you!

"Oh I wasn't mussed." Thea assures A'dmar with a light laugh. But then she doesn't go into any details about who DID. "I just watched." She hmms, tilts head and says sincerely, "I'm sorry to hear that you were hurt and wish I'd heard sooner." Then dryly tacks on with a teasing little smile, "I would have visited." Because THEN he'd have been in a sociable mood, right? She seems to be considering whether to elaborate about D'had and decides to share: "We're hunting for a renegade who- Oh would you look at that?" She points to the spiderclaw between the bronzer's feet. "Now how do you suppose it got all the way up here from the beach without getting cooked?"

A'dmar gives a slight frown at the happenstance in Ierne, making no more a subject of it as details are limited and the galleries were not the time nor place to prod for more. "It was recent," he notes of her apology, "and I wasn't in Ierne for the spell of it. Your visit would've been to an empty bed chamber." He does at least try to smile, it was polite and had he tried it more often, he would've gained more than he had with vinegar. The elaborating on what they were hunting for has him pause, briefly, curious, attention tuned right in. That is, until she points back down to the spiderclaw that just won't go away. "Would you like me to catch it for you?" he asks a little flippantly, ready to crush the thing under his heel if he must. His answer to her last, "It looks like he -crawled-…" har har.

Spiddy puts way his pincers. They're too much for the bronzerider to handle. Besides, he's a lover, not a fighter.

Thea's got her toes protected by her leather boots, otherwise she'd have her feet yanked up and out of harm’s way. She shakes her head about having him catch the thing, but the spiderclaw is moving on anyway. "Crawled. Hah! I'm amazed it didn't fry on the stairs!" Then she chuckles a touch wickedly, "Bed chamber? I might just have rapped on the window and spoken to you from there." She says it lightly with a flashed grin. She catches the last few impressions, then turns back to him, her mien more serious this time. "I do hope your recovery continues without further complication," she says kindly, sincerely meant. Things are quieter now that the sands and the galleries are emptying. "He calls himself Laris. He posed as a woodcutter for the winter in Xanadu but took off and abandoned his daughter. He's wanted by Fort for crimes in their coverage area."

A'dmar gives a wry sneer for her jape at seeing him through a window and coming no where near his bed chambers, giving a chuff of laughter for her chuckle. He was in better humor than she had last seen him, nearly a Turn or more gone by, seasons at least. His eyes watch those leaving the sands without a mate, that strange girl he had run into one of them. Other than a brief look, his attention carries back toward the Weyrwoman and the spiderclaw, who he lets on by without another kick or a stomp. "If it goes well, I should hope to walk again without carrying a limp," his eyes darting from face to face as more leave once the final egg has hatched and the dragonet impressed. Still, a conversation was better had than not at all, so he remains, listening to the details as she provides them, "Is the daughter in your care then, Weyrwoman?" curious this would be his first concern, or maybe not so, if one knew the man. The next, he asks with a cautious glance around for anyone lingering to hear, "What are his crimes?"

Thea is totally unruffled by the sneer, green eyes dancing with merriment as she tilts her head to watch him. She makes no apology for her proper holder-ish ways - she's fairly well-known for them after all and it's no secret she isn't loose, acceptable though it is with most weyrfolk. She does take note of his good humor, commenting quietly, "You look almost happy, A'dmar. I do hope you are?" Dark brows lift inquiringly. The implied question there is, of course, why is he happy rather than the jaded cynic she's known him as? "The daughter," the Weyrwoman's voice tightens and her face takes on a bleak look, "isn't his. And she's my main concern in all this." One fist clenches, "He's done a fair amount of damage to her trust. The poor child is scared of everyone." Her eyes lift and she tells him tersely, "Laris is wanted for murder and kidnapping, for starters. I'm sure he's done more, but that's the gist of it."

The independent bronzerider of Ierne considers her tone, the quiet concern perhaps in it, his dark eyes wandering back to her, able only to lift a shoulder as he notes with a jaded snort, "It would seem I am not without some hope in that." Not a yes and not a no, so it has to be a good sign, right? Still he offers no further insight, shifting only briefly in his seat as if the chair were bothersome to sit on. And yet, so suddenly, he is straightening in it, back rimrod straight, his eyes widening, "Not his? How old is she?" There is hope yet in his eyes, a wavering optimism, but still holding despite how many Turns it really has been, "What is her name?" The fact of the man's crimes does not weigh into it, not until he's heard the answers of his inquires.

Well, Thea isn't one to press and so she allows him his evasion with a shrug of her shoulder. Not her business, but she's glad for him, if the expression on her face is anything to go by. His discomfort does not go unnoticed and yet, rather than fuss over him like a mother hen, she rises. "I need to return to Xanadu - we're in high alert with the man who-knows-where in our forests. Would you like to walk out with me? I'll answer that as we go." She waits, stepping to lean forearms on the railing and peers down at the empty, littered sands; he can at least stand and stretch if he wants to. Perhaps it is her heightened sense of protectiveness for the girl, but his interest arouses a suspiciousness that the Weyrwoman doesn't try to hide in the frown that tilts her mouth as she peers over her shoulder warily. Silent for a few long beats, she finally asks bluntly, "Why do you want to know?"

A'dmar murmurs as he does lift himself from the hard surface of the seat, all too stiffly it would seem as he favors that right leg of his, "I am sure your riders will be diligent enough in finding him. They found you, didn't they?" He remarks of a time long past, when Weyrleader and Weyrwoman both were buried alive, as it were. In essence as he stands, he is accepting the offer to walk out with her, as any would, courtesy demands it of him and anyone else. He lumbers around the chairs, only a casual eye for the sands as he didn't necessarily know any of those who impressed well enough to show a lingering interest. It was to her suspicious look at him that has him squint in response and turn an arm out for her if she would like to walk with him formally, if not, he'll sweep that gesture into a tell tale symbol that ladies are first. His response is honest, at least, not as guarded as it might have been once, "I ask to know, because I search for my daughter." A beat as he lets that hang, for a moment looking as if he wasn't about to explain, but that protective suspicion on the expression of the Weyrwoman's features pushes his hand, "She was lost to me upon her sixth nameday, taken along to some unknown life by her mother's hand - my wife at the time, even if dragonriders call them weyrmates… A treachery that has caused me ill for many a Turn."

Thea isn't particularly interested in the sands either. Her scrutiny of them is a pretense while allowing the proud rider his dignity until he's at least worked the kinks out from sitting so long. When she turns, he is standing and has taken those few steps already - as was her intent. She considers the squint unapologetically. No, she wasn't all that diplomatic with the blunt question, carefully studying his face for all the nuances that might tell of untruths being spoken. That she believes him is evidenced as she reaches to take the offered arm, falling into step beside him, hers are unhurried, easy so as not to cause his limping leg further strain. Mulling his words over, she tilts her head to give him a long look. "She was known as Ilarua, but that was an alias. She's dark like you are – her hair could be almost the same color. I don't know her age, exactly. She'd barely look at me, but her eyes are brown." As they make their way down the stairs she muses, "You could come meet her, but I'll warn you. The man Laris…" Her voice trails off, troubled.

Perchance a surprise, but likely not. The fact that she takes his arm is not met with anything but a forward step, strictly polite and if anyone cared to watch, it would be seen as such and nothing more. His eyes are ahead when she tells him of the name the child goes by, not the name that he called his girl, a point he would have believed his wife not capable of doing - changing her daughter's name. A grimace touches his features at the fact it could be an alias and the more detail that is made, the further the lines are drawn on his weary face, trying to keep the hope from flooding him. But through the Turns the cracks have made him unable to keep the desperation from his features, showing thusly as he regards Thea, "I would see her… Would it be possible? Tonight or the morrow… I have cause to hope but I dare not dream it. I would see her for myself… yes." The last bit, he seems to sour some, his brows hitching, "I have seen and I know what those cowards are capable of. You do not need to explain to me of the hurt this man would've caused."

Thea likewise is proper - how could she not be? It isn't in her nature to be anything otherwise. She's considerate of the injured man beside her as she makes her way down those stairs, easing down them for his sake despite her own need to hurry. They have, after all, been through being buried in the ruins together but there's a lot she doesn't know about him yet. "I don't know if she is the one you're looking for, but if it helps you to leave no stone unturned," the Weyrwoman says, "then come. But I don't want her frightened. The man has her brainwashed." There's a preoccupation about her - a lot on her mind apparently, but he's also being given a sidelong study as if she's trying to decide something. There's no comment further save for, "I'd imagine your injury is why we haven't gotten that stone contract with Igen settled. Which is fine. We'll get to it when you are able." Other than that, she moves the topic to general things before bidding him farewell and mounting Seryth to make her way back to Xanadu.

A'dmar sees her down the gallery steps and out into the courtyard proper, showing a hint of gratitude for her thoughtfulness to his injury that makes him much slower than he ought to be. "Until the sun sets on my day, I will look for her, as I always have," this is his vow and his life belongs to it - clearly, eyes hardened with the reality he may never find her before his last breath. "I will bring no harm to the girl. I would just like to see her for myself since your description of her has left me wondering. In a fortnight I shall see to it that I can visit, so that you can prepare the girl for it and that I am not another strange face to see her." He shifts his weight to his good leg as she leaves his arm to make for her dragon, nodding at the mention of the injury stalling the work with Igen, his tone as hard as the stone they speak of as he mutters, "There are a few less Laris' out there to hurt girls like the one you found." The dark beast of his is soon striding forward with that blazed fiery muzzle lowering to extend to his rider. A'dmar hails to Thea, "May the sun guide you home, Weyrwoman." And he too is making to depart, Western just a place to visit afterall.

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