So You Think You Can Dance

Xanadu Weyr – Meadow


A large, slightly rolling meadow is set high enough above the riverbank on both sides to avoid suffering from flooding, healthy ground cover and grass spreading out from either side of the dividing river. Scattered amongst the meadow are a variety of buildings, each with a narrow path leading up to it from a main, winding road. Some are set under a few trees, while others sit by themselves.

Stables and a smithy are settled on their own plots, while trees border the western edge of the meadow, and a faint outline of a fence can be seen to the north.

Morlanol is a scruffy, but clean thirteen-turn-old boy. His white candidate's knot barely stands out against the white shirt he wears, especially since it's hidden beneath a crisp, new brown leather jacket. These top a pair of black trousers with scuffed knees and apair of black leather shoes. He has broad shoulders and fills out his shirt and jacket well for all his frame is topped by a cherubic, boy-like face. Mussed dark hair falls into his face, occassionally accluding his deep grown eyes.

Tonight Morl is in rare form. His hair is slicked back nicely with water, combed and smoothe. Starting at the ground he wears leather dancing shoes that fit his feet well, with silvery-white stitching along the top edge. His pants are also a stark clean black, the stitching up the outsides of his legs also that same silvery-white. His sleek black dress shirt is patterned with interweaving silvery lines making what almost looks like a mountainous landscape around his middle. Truly he is in rare form. Most people know why… and think it's funny…
Without the gift of a grown man's height, Rogawani is far from anything imposing. Even so, he has a certain amount of confidence in the way he moves, if he were trying very hard to prove himself. An athletic boy, his body is strong and toned, kept in good physical shape but without any sign of the raw masculine bulk some men carry. His face has fairly gentle features and a sort of boyish charm that may someday into something more traditionally handsome. Mouse-brown hair hangs in tussled strands around his face, sometimes wandering into his eyes. At the nape of his neck, the hairs are drawn together into a thinly braided tail that hangs down to the middle of his back. Deep gray eyes, like the sky after a storm has broken, hide behind his thin eyebrows.

Rogawani's clothing is simple, yet elegant. A button-up shirt made out of soft blue cloth hangs from his shoulders. It hangs with loose ripples and small threaded fringe along the backs of his arms until it binds together neatly at cuffs at his wrists. A simple pair of black trousers are cinched on to the boy's waist, held up by a single belt devoid of the usual pouches that adorn it. His feet are covered with a pair of simple black boots, shined and well kept. His hands, usually wearing gloves, are bare with the exception of a single silver ring worn on one index finger. A simple, single corded white knot hangs from the boy's shoulder, marking him as a Candidate.
A tall man, Satoris is still yet too young to gain the title of 'grizzled', but he's well on his way. Skin hardened by sun and work is a dark, nut brown: broken by cracks and various scars- one particular one etching it's way from just before his left ear and down his neck, towards his shoulder. A mop of black hair sits awkwardly upon his head; lengths varying from short above thick eyebrows to long about his ears. His eyes are a pale, pale blue — almost grey — and sit at odds with the rest of his appearance.

Quite unlike the usual 'work' attire that Satoris seems to have a plethora of, this outfit is far more suited for those times in which one needs some sprucing up, such as a gather. A cobalt-grey tunic drapes with exceptionally good tailoring to his torso, bearing a deep v-neck with lapels that fold against the shoulders. It rides a bit low, but in a dashing kind of way. Over that is worn a high-collared vest; black and waist-length of a rather soft material. Stitching forms amorphous shapes along the edges and across both shoulders. The back of the vest bears the Miner craft symbol and it also has a patch with an elegant 'J', denoting the rank of journeyman. Brown toggles are there to hold the vest shut. He wears a pair of dark gray toursers that have been artfully stonewashed at the thighs. The brown, leather belt is fair new and bears pouches for tools and the like in wonderful condition. His boots, also brown, look a bit more well-worn, but comfortable and kept in good condition.
This young girl of perhaps fifteen turns is fairly average in height and build for someone her age. She has large, warm brown eyes and a slightly upturned nose. Her face is gentle, with the last traces of baby fat on her cheeks. Her dark brown hair is a little longer than shoulder-length, and somewhat wavy. Her tanned skin does not appear to have any obvious marks or scars. Her hands, though small, have long, slim fingers.

The girl's hair currently falls freely across bare shoulders, the locks framing her face held away from her eyes by simple clips. Tonight, her usual loose and practical clothing has been put aside in favor of a deep crimson gather dress, which is sleeveless and fits her frame well. Perhaps a bit /too/ well in places, the long skirt hanging off hips that may perhaps have been narrower than when the clothing had first been bought. The dress reveals what the girl's everyday clothing often obscures, the curves showing clearly that this girl is well on her way to woman, though she has years yet before she can truly claim to have grown up. The vivid red is accompanied by a white sash tied around the waist, leaving the long, ankle-length skirt to flare down to sandalled feet. The footwear is of the style of certain Southern Boll women, with braided ties going up along the ankles. Secure enough for dancing, the clothing fairly radiates South Boll fashion. Indeed, with her clothes sporting the colors of her home, Cenlia's candidate knot, the simple cord in pure white, seems to fit almost perfectly with the outfit.
Short, freckled could be the two words to sum up this little bit of a thing. And those two things seem to be her lot in life. She never grew past 5 feet and is still light enough that it seems as if a stiff breeze would knock her over. Her hair is wavy and oft times unruly as well, tossing the myriad shades of caramel blonde to honey brown in all directions. Her eyes are a pale blue in color with a darker band of blue around them giving them a grayish hue. Her fair skin has the faintest of tans, darkening it to a slightly burnt cream in color, though much of it has a tendency to take on a reddish hue with the sun. The freckles are everywhere. Up and down her arms, across the bridge of her nose and cheeks and there are even a couple on her ears. She's just covered everywhere with them.

Though little in size she may be, her muscles are well toned and defined. Of course this has it's downfalls as well, though hard work and excercise defined her limbs and body, this also made her lose some definition in the feminine curves department. So though she doesn't really look like a boy, she might as well be one for her near lack of a chest.

Light blues are intermixed with ivory as each layer of the skirt is tiered in alternating colors. It is made of a soft cotton that as been twisted around giving it wrinkles that are supposed to be there and gives it a slightly casual if not still elegant appearance. The light blue shirt is sleeveless and shows of her highly freckled and pale shoulders, and the neckline dips daringly low. It curves inwards hugging her waist and then flaring out over her hips and her skirt. On her feet are a pair of leather ankle boots that are dyed to match the blues of shirt and skirt.
Petite and delicate boned, this young woman has a slender frame and the curves of budding youth. Crowning her head is hair of fiery amber, falling over her shoulder to mid-back in loose ringlets. Her face is angular, graced with high, well defined cheekbones speckled with light freckles, and a hawkish, hooked nose. Slender, arching brows shadow eyes of piercing pale blue, silvery, nearly white specks spreading from her pupils. Lining her ghostly eyes are dark, curling lashes, exemplifying the almond tilt of her heavy lids. Marring her smooth face is a dark line of scar tissue, beginning just over her chin and slicing through full lips of light pink. The scar continues, fading just over her right cheek. Taut, pale skin is stretched over her slim body, freckles visible here and there where clothing does not cover.

Wrapping her form is a plain, pale blue shirt. The breezy fabric covers her torso loosely, tucked into the brown leather of her pants, while the sleeves have been rolled up to rest just above her elbows. A small black vest hugs the fabric of her shirt tighter, draping over her shoulders in thin straps, and buttoning just under her bosom. Her legs are clothed in plain leather trousers that hug her hips and rest low on her waist. Covering her calves are folded boots of black, functional in style, yet accentuating the curves of her muscle. In her hair she wear a dainty blue headband, matching the color of her shirt. Over her shoulder she wears a simple white knot, marking her for candidacy.
A slender form is wearing a simple empire-waisted dress of crimson red is her chief finery; the skirt is ankle-length, and the neckline a low-but not immodest-scoop style. The sleeves are three-quarter length, belling somewhat just past the elbow. A rosette of hand-crocheted lace rests at the center of the neckline, just above her heart. Every be-slippered step draws faint, musical jingling sounds from the myriad of minute silver bells stitched to the hem of her dress. Her hair is pulled back as usual, but instead of a runnertail, a braid hangs down behind her, gleaming honey-gold. She wears no jewelry, and no cosmetics of any sort. Nor does she need them.

It's a cool, clear evening in Xanadu, the sky has darkened and the starts are out. The meadow has been mown, the soft breeze carries the sweet scent of the fresh-cut grass. Slender metal poles with hooks atop have been stuck in the ground here, glass globes with glows in them provide a soft golden light below. As Candidates mill about, looking uncomfortable in their finery, some Harpers play some lively instrumental music. One of the Harpers walks to the center of the lit area and claps his hands to get the attention of the group. "Everyone find a partner, please. Gentlemen you'll be offering your arm, like so." He makes his elbow crook to demonstrate, "And ladies, you'll be placing your hand on the arm like so." One of the female Harpers moves to stand near him, snaking a hand through and rests her hand lightly on his arm. The Harper's voice carries across the meadow once more, "Once you're found your partner, please face me."

Morlanol enters the clearing, looking much spiffier than usual, his hair slicked back and his back straight. Maybe Ruzel helped him. Who knows. A large, but not disturbingly huge grin on his face, he walks slowly up to Cen and does his best impression of the harper's motion, "M'lady?"

Living at the meadow seems to provide some entertainment, such as strange candidate happenings outside your door. F'yr is nestled in a spot near the edge of the glows from the hanging baskets, the large bulk of her lifemate coiled around her and providing a nice dark shape and something comfortable to lean against. His glaring whirling eyes on the fancy moving shapes, his lip turning up to any that might stray too close. "I'm betting on the number of bruised feet after this. It'll be interesting to see how many can walk on the sands," she tells her dragon with mild amusement, blue eyes on the forming couples.

It's odd for Rogawani to be in anything but his normal clothes and riding leathers, but he's cleaned himself up quite nicely for the evening. His hair is even brushed, although it's hard to tell since it still looks like a tussled mess that hangs around his face. His eyes sweep the group, expectantly looking for someone among the candidate faces. His features show a bit of disappointment as the one face he's looking for is absent. Taking a deep breath, the boy steps lightly through the crowd towards his next choice. He bows slightly before offering an arm out towards Keziah as if he had at least practiced this part. "If you would be so kind as to do me the honor of partnering with me tonight?" So suave, or at least he's trying very hard to be. Near the far end of the group, a disgruntled Donakan appears to have been unwittingly paired up with the girl who 'looks like a dragon stepped on her face'.

The parcel left upon Satoris' cot was a surprise, but it allowed him the relief of not having to anger Thea by avoiding the dance lessons, nor the issues that may arise if he showed in his usual attire. The miner-turned-candidate did not put any other effort into his appearance, though, save being freshly bathed. By one of those poles he stands, feet securely planted and arms folded. There's no Zevida in evidence; either he never invited her, or she's been unable to show. Either one could be likely, especially when one considers that Avaeth may still be angry with the man. Pale eyes are slightly hooded as he attempts to remain withdrawn, watching those that do step forward. Jorrel is one, with another girl from Telgar; the pair being a bit of an on-again-off-again couple.

Keziah has made her way onto the meadows and looks as if she feels way out of place. Course being in a skirt instead of her usual affair makes her feel almost naked. You get breezes where there shouldn't be breezes. She rubs her arms briskly, the pair crossed across her chest. Yes, she feels decidedly lost and out of place and quite partnerless. At the very least she left behind the canine and goat she'd been threatening on bringing instead. Seems, she never did get around to asking anyone. She almost doesn't see Rogawani coming her way and then he's there asking her. She blinks a little and looks shocked and looks around "Where's Tali?" she asks looking a little startled. "I umm…" she looks at the offered arm and then very carefully places her arm as ladylike as she can, course it's shaking though. "I'd, I'd be honored."

Entering the clearing after a long day, her messy chopped up brown hair is up in a bun that looks to be just holding together with luck. Hair framing her face and held up just to avoid causing a visual disturbance. Senkyou looks to be enjoying the site, her mouth pulled up in a smirk as she watches Thea torture the candidates. Tapping her fingers on a tree, her dark green riding leathers off setting her green eyes well enough, though she is nowhere near as dressed up as some. Raising her hand she says to Thea, "You doing a good job, I think this suits you." Pointing to all the well dressed candidates, "I'll jsut set over here." Pointing to a stump and sitting down with a little thump, arms crossed and smirk firmly planted.

Cenlia is one of those milling about, and despite being in attire that no one at Xanadu has certainly ever seen her in before, the girl moves without the likely expected awkwardness of one used to wearing only pants. Even the long, flowing skirt of the crimson gown she wears is little hinderance, though the girl does fiddle with the white sash around her waist, securing the knot and adjusting the white rose in her hair, brushing the loose locks back off bare shoulders. She eyes the harper on stage and then, when Morlanol comes up to her, she turns those large brown eyes on him, and they are clearly wary. Or perhaps it's the eyebrows going up, but she follows the harper's direction, snaking a hand around his arm with a much less formal, "Hey."

The music stops as the Harper waits for the resultant shuffling, blushing and giggling to die down before nodding his approval to the group, gesturing towards Satoris, "You too my man. Not afraid to try are you?" He continues, "You'll be facing your partner, give that gal a little bow, gals give that guy a bit of a dip." The Harper couple demonstrate again, then face one another, the man takes one of his partner's hands, places the other on her waist while she places her free hand upon his shoulder. The music resumes, lilting, lively.

Thea, from where she stands near the edge watching the Candidates, gives Senkyou a nod and a smile.

Morlanol grins, but tries to act appropriately sober. Leading Cen the rest of the way onto the dance floor. He bows smartly to her, revealing that his shirt is just a little tight, but not too bad. He waits for her to curtsy before approaching, gingerly, and perhaps a tad fearfully, placing his hand on her waist and waiting for her to slip her hand into his.

Rogawani's face is all smiles as he looks towards the ex-stablemaster, offering the faint lift of one shoulder. He's trying very hard not to show any disappointment. "Not sure, but I couldn't leave a lady such as yourself without a partner." When she accepts, he gives a faint incline of his head, turning towards the front for the rest of the instructions. He watches the instructions, and then turns towards Keziah, offering another of those same practiced bows. "This should be interesting." He says in a hushed tone, "Care to wager on who'll leave with the most broken toes?" He's teasing, but perhaps trying to lighten the mood a little. He holds one hand out for her to take, while the other reaches towards her waist. He seems more itent on trying to not screw up, where as some of the other younger men seem more shy about the whole affair.

Satoris rumbles slightly as the Harper calls out to him. One shoulder rises and falls in a bit of a shrug. "My partner isn't here," he answers simply, but making no move to leave his station. Perhaps he's keeping an eye on the post; that globe of light seems rather precarious. A slight shifting of feet and he unfolds his arms, hooking thumbs through belt instead.

Keziah smiles and gives a nod "My thanks. Though I am sorry that Tali isn't here." she notes softly "Something must have held her up." she shakes her head a little at what it might be though. She gives a little dip, not quite so practiced and wobbles a little, but she doesn't fall down. "Oh, I'm sure it'll be me. Since my feet will likely contstantly be on yours." she notes with a grin as she takes the offered hand and steps in closer.

Sitting on her stump, Senk seems entertained, giggling. At the guy who's alone she looks over at F'yr, then back at Satoris. For a moment it looks like she might rise, but she simply shifts and imitates them slightly raising her chin up and putting her arm around an invisble waist. When on candidate appears to have his hand precariously close to his partner behind senk says, "Move it up, yu don't dare touch her posterior." Coming out of the forest with a rumble, Dulacth moves quietly to besides senk, eyes whirling a bright blue green he settles to watch the couples. Senks eyes glaze over and she shoots her dragon a look, "No." she says, and the velveteen brown nuzzles her forward, "No." She says again, forced to her feet by the dragon. Looking at Satoris she says.. "Yur darn lucky my dragon took pity on you." Offering her hand, "Well come on, yu can't be to shy or you'll never be any good at this." Dulacth sits up straighter, like a proud fatehr watching his daughter,

Cenlia glances down briefly to eye Morlanol's shoes and then her own sandalled feet, saying under her breath, "I better still have all my toes after this, or I'm coming after yours with a shovel." But she gives the boy a lopsided grin, indicating she's only joking. Hopefully. The curtsey she attempts to do is awkward but passable, though the boy's hand on her waist gets a slight grimace. She places her own hand on his shoulder and then takes his other hand as indicated, her posture stiff as she attempts and probably fails to not look embarrassed about this whole thing. Formal dancing. Yeech.

The Harper watches with well-controlled amusement as the Candidates move to face each other, his eyes flicking towards Morlanol's face then towards the big man at the edge of the meadow, "Ah, I see. Pity that." As he's speaking, the dragon intervenes with a solution of his own, which has the harper chuckling softly, then it's back to the group at large, "Right, here's an easy step now, see? You move together, first one step to the left, then to the right. Keep your body loose, flexible." He tries to sound encouraging before showing them as the pair moves with a grace born from practice, swaying a bit as they step.

Thea just shakes her head at Satoris eyerolling and muttering at him in an undertone, "I tossed wood around late night after chores and you can't do a little dance?"

A low growl emits from the protective Zaruath as he eyes up this new dragon coming into the area. His tail curls just a little tighter around F'yr, who makes sure to ignore him as best as she can. Her full attention is on the entertainment. The short teen winces, giggles and then juts her chin towards a couple nearest to them. "Now that looked like it hurt. I think it's really a way to torture the poor candidates. You think they got 'nough to deal with already, and then they do this." She probs an elbow on her dragon's muzzle, leaning her head against her hand as she continues to watch.

Morlanol tries to gently follow the harper's instructions, grinning a little to Cen even as her stiffness causes him to blush a little. He whispers to her, trying not to cause further discomforture, "Try t' relax, Cen. I won' step on yer toes so long as y' keep movin'. An' if it's really tha' bad y' never hafta do it again."

"Don't worry about it." Rogawani replies in an easy voice, shaking his head from side to side. "You were my other option anyways, so I don't mind at all." His smile is genuine, although a little bit of nerves manage to eek through as he glances quickly up a the harpers before looking down at his feet. "That's alright though. I've got boots." His smile spreads into a wolfish grin for a split second. "I'll try to be careful." He takes a deep breath when she steps closer, and then nods his head, as if answering some unspoken question in his own mind. "Left, then right." He repeats, glancing at Keziah's eyes for just a second before taking the first step.

Satoris raises an eyebrow at Senkyou. After the initial look of mild surprise, his brows lower and mouth sets into a line. "I am not shy, nor someone to be pitied," he states, dryly. "My partner was simply unavailable for the evening." He exhales at length at Thea's comment and glances to her, offering out his elbow at a somewhat strange angle for Senkyou. "Someday, guilt-tripping me won't work anymore."

Senkyou is as stiff as possible, every muscle tight, as if she's arrived at a brawl and not a dance. The taking of her arm makes her jump a little and she says, "Me? yu think /I/ am pitying you? No. Dulacth is pitying you, he thinks yur some poor charity case that he can help out." rolling her eyes she looks back at Dulacth, who rumbles a polite, if short, greeting to Zaruath and puts his muzzle firmly in the small of senk back, giving a very small shove which leads to the older wingleader almost falling forward. "Shh." Listening to directions she says, "Yu lead, I'll correct." Holding onto his arm tightly.

Cenlia doesn't so much sway as wobble, but she manages to get the steps right without tripping over anyone's feet. She makes a face at Morlanol, muttering with a soft snort, "Well, ain't doin' this again is right. Shards, thought weyrs were supposed to be the places that don't got all this sorta thing," exactly what she means by that isn't explained, as she grumbles, "Just as stuffy as everywhere else." There's no real force behind her words though, the complaints trailing off as she glances at the dragons and adds on more to herself, "Wish X'hil was here." If he is, she hasn't seen him, though it's a safe bet she it's not a dance she wants from the weyrsecond.

The couple continues with their simple step, the Harper watching the pairs carefully. "You all seem to have that pretty well, so I'm going to add a bit of a twist. Watch me now." He guides his lady in a small turn, pivoting on one foot to do it. It's not quite a spin - he's not moving fast enough to do that. They wend their way through the couples, repeating that turn now and then.

Thea just snickers back at Satoris before turning her attention back to the rest of the group.

Morlanol's grin softens a little. He tries to move more fluidly, as if that would somehow make Cen more relaxed. He steps carefully around Cen's feet as he guides her slowly through the turn. "I know y' don' wanna be here… woul' pretendin' I'm X'hil help?" He's grinning in such a way that it could be a joke or not.

"Well, glad I got to you first before he did." Rogawani chuckles to himself, seeming a bit bemused. "Seems like all of us poor guys are being left behind tonight. Look at poor Satoris." He smirks, glancing once over his shoulder just in time to have his foot stepped on. He winces. "Eheh, my left. I'm the guy. I'm supposed to lead you know." He says with a bit of a rueful tone in his voice. "Right this time." He motions with his head before moving. Even before they have the first steps down, the harpers are demonstrating a turn. "Uh, right." Looking a bit sheepish, the boy tries to get his foot into the right position, lifting his arm a bit to follow through with the turn. "Is this right?" He has no clue, searching Keziah as if she might somehow know better. She is a girl afterall.

"I'm not a charity case," Satoris continues to protest, but shifts to brace Senkyou should she begin to tip or fall over. He sighs and moves to shift Senkyou from the pole he'd been standing near. He moves through the steps as instructed, but in a very stiff and awkward fashion.

Keziah is a girl, course her mother has sometimes doubted that fact. She does blush a little "Sorry." she murmurs. Obvioulsy dancing is not her forte. Give her a crossbow and a herd of goats and her canines and she's great. Dress her up like a girl and make her dance? She'd have an easier time Impressing a bronze dragon. She does at least manage this little bit without stepping on Ro's feet, but she does manage to snag her own. There's a reason she doesn't dance. "I think so long as we don't land on our faces, it's right?"

Senkyou sighs and shakes her head, her eyes glazing she lets go of Satoris, Dulacth perks up and stands straighter, head cocking in a peculiar human like fashion. Putting her hand down she says, "You are to him.. and..we havesomething that needs to be done, urgently" Whether she's lying or not, one may never know, but the brownrider and dragon leave in a quick flurry of movement.

Liya walks swiftly in from the clearing, her cheeks flushed as if rushing. She takes a quick look about the area, her breathing heavy, and slinks off into a somewhat secluded portion…possibly looking for a place to hide to not be considered late, or maybe just to say she -was- here. She watches from the side, obviously not dressed for the occasion and just having come from work - her clothes streaked with some dirt and maybe…dried blood?

The newest dance move has Cenlia grimacing and grumbling, "Shardin' /dancing/. I'd rather haul manure." And then she wrinkles her nose at Morlanol, muttering, "Shards, no. Don't think I'd /have/ toes left if I tried dancin' with him." She grins lightly, "If he was here, could prolly get outta this dumb dance. Weyrsecond's gotta be worth moren' just paperwork. 'Sides, you don't got a getaway dragon that could fly us off to get some booze." And then she makes a face, "Shoulda taken D'had's offer an' gone to Boll right then." A frown lingers on her face and she mis-steps a bit, her mind likely no longer on the dancing.

The Harper and his lady-partner separate and move through the pairs to do some individual coaching. The Harper approaches Rogawani and Keziah, one hand reaches to lightly tap the lad's elbow. "Relax here and flex it with her movements - you'll let her move easier," He murmurs before nodding and moving on. It's with a raised brow at Satoris he notes the hasty departure of Senkyou, but he says nothing.

Thea isn't so quiet though, "Now you're done it, Satoris. You've hurt her feelings." A tinge of sarcasm there in her tone, but her lips curve in a smile. Teasing.

Morlanol grimaces, tightening his grip on her hip slightly to keep her from falling, "I'm sorry, I didn'…" he goes quiet for a moment. He does his best to keep moving through the dance steps. After a few more steps he says, very quietly, "Cen… I don'… I know y' don' wanna dance bu'… coul' ya smile? I don' wantcha t' be unhappy…"

Rogawani just offers a bit of a smile, holding on tight when Keziah's feet falter a bit. He's about to say something when the tap on his arm causes the boy to look up suddenly. "Oh." He tries to force his arm to relax and move more easily. "Relax and flex." It sounds a little odd taken out of context the way he says it, and his eyebrows draw down in sudden confused concentration. When they move away again, he leans in a bit closer and whispers, "Want to try that again or go back to the first step?" He asks, although it's clear that he'd prefer the later of the two. Sheepishly, he offers a small smile, "I won't let you fall. Promise."

Keziah is a little startled herself at the intervention of the harper. "Well, he didn't say do it again, so go on I guess Wouldn't do to get behind." she murmurs and then she's smiling back "My thanks on that, would be embarrasing indeed and even more so iffen I pulled you down with me.

Satoris watches Senkyou go and exhales at length, glancing over at Thea. He quirks an eyebrow at her. "I'm not a pity case," he repeats.

A slender form is silhouetted by the gentle golden glow of the lights, with bits of brown, blue, and green highlighted swirling through the air above them. True to form, Jessamin pads softly along the path, coming more fully into view as she draws closer to the dancing area -alone. But this time, instead ofjessa| her usual mishmash patchwork skirt and white blouse, a simple empire-waisted dress of crimson red is her chief finery; the skirt is ankle-length, and the neckline a low-but not immodest-scoop style. The sleeves are three-quarter length, belling somewhat just past the elbow. A rosette of hand-crocheted lace rests at the center of the neckline, just above her heart. Every be-slippered step draws faint, musical jingling sounds from the myriad of minute silver bells stitched to the hem of her dress. Her hair is pulled back as usual, but instead of a runnertail, a braid hangs down behind her, gleaming honey-gold. She wears no jewelry, and no cosmetics of any sort. Nor does she need them. She holds back at the edge of the group, waiting and watching as her fellow Candidates dance to the Harper's direction.

Liya notices Jessamin as she arrives, her jaw clenching slightly as she looks over her. Then she looks down over herself…perhaps she should have spent the time being later to dress up. Liya glances nervously from the dancers to the path back to the weyr, seemingly unsure which is the most dangerous of paths. For the time being, she stands next to one of the poles, hoping to go unnoticed in her innappropriate clothes.

B'ky, dressed in his usual clashing red and indigo, is just getting back from cargo duty, Avideth settling in front of his weyr to watch the candidates. But the bluerider spots Liya at the edge of the group, and since he knows this dance, the man chuckles and walks over. He extends an arm and offers with a soft smile, "Looks as if you need a dance partner, candidate. I'm B'ky, blue Avideth's."

Cenlia blinks at Morlanol, "Huh?" the girl probably not even aware she was frowning. The frown becomes a slight grimace as she gets her feet sorted out, and grumbles, "I'll be happy when this's all over an' I can go back to the garden. Shards, if he hadn't said he was sure I'd've given the knot back." An odd expression works its way into her face and, strangely enough, worry. But she shakes her head putting on a grin that doesn't quite meet her eyes as she adds, "If I don't impress, I'm gonna shardin' corner him with a bottle of brandy." She doesn't mean it though, sighing and shooting a worried glance in the direction of a certain weyrbarn.

The Harper has moved on and is now standing just behind Morlanol. There's a light-fingered touch on the tightened hand the lad has on Cenlia's waist, "Don't bruise your lovely lady and she'll find it easier to smile at you." His gaze flickers to the gardener, "Feel the music, let it move you the same way the wind causes the meadow grass to dance." There's a half-wink as his eyes move from her to the younger boy she's partnered with before he moves off.

Thea merely shrugs at Satoris, "You still haven't danced yet, either." Nevermind that she hasn't. But her eyes seek a certain form in that crowd of Candidates as she says it.

With the harpers showing no new moves to add to the confusion, Rogawani just easily moves from right to left along with the timing of the music. He's oblivious to the exits and new arrivals, too concerned with not making a fool out of himself or his partner. "You look pretty tonight." He offers, not quite meeting the older candidate's gaze as he moves. "The blue suits you." He's trying to be polite, or at least to make up for the fact that he is probably not Keziah's first choice in dance partners. "Alright, going to try that turn again." He tries to keep his elbow relaxed this time. Somehow, his feet find the right places, as does his arms, but it's certainly not graceful.

"I don't need to dance," Satoris states, stepping back alongside Thea. "I highly doubt that anyone will ever see fit to ask me to dance at a gather. And if it ever happens, the dancing itself appears fairly straightforward so long as one can keep track of their limbs."

It's true, Ro wouldn't be her first choice, but by no real fault of his. There really isn't anyone that Keziah would chose to be her first choice. She gives a little nod as she follows him into the turn, managing, just barely to not step on her feet. Grace really isn't something that's generally looked for when trudging through the deep forests or chasing after a herd. Just balance, which even then she oft times has trouble with. "Thank you." she murmurs "It was a gift from my mother. She's been hoping I'd wear it."

Jessamin smiles somewhat as she listens to the music, her eyes flitting from Candidate to Candidate, to the harpers, and back again. Is it a trick of the light, or do her eyes glimmer perhaps a little bit more than usual? No matter. The bells on her skirt chime their soft little melody as she lets the music move her, swaying gently in time with the tempo. She wraps her arms around herself against the night chill, listening, watching, and learning from both the Harper's direction, as well as the mistakesand successesof her friends.

As B'ky approaches her, Liya looks a bit confused at first, and it takes her a moment to comprehend his words. "Ah..yes, I do." She offers, the corners of her lips tugging upwards. "Thank you…" she says softly, her cheeks flushing slightly, maybe just because she was noticed. "I'm Liya." She takes B'ky's offered arm, following him out amidst the other dancers. "I don't really…know much about dancing." She worries on her bottom lip a bit, seemingly uncomfortable with the atmosphere, and unsure what to do next.

"Well met," B'ky bows politely when they're amidst the dancers, the man smiling gently as he leads, slowly at first so Liya can see the steps. "Everyone has to begin learning somewhere," he says with a soft chuckle, inclining his head at some of the less graceful candidate pairs, "I suspect that this is the first time many here have tried." B'ky himself is an old hat at dancing, and indicates his shoulder for her to put her hand on while he holds out his other hand for her to take.

At least Cenlia grins at the harper's poetic words about the grass. The gardener girl in a bright red dress does make an effort to relax, or at the very least follow the music. Of course, while she's paying attention to the music, her feet do something else. With a sheepish look, she attempts the steps again, this time paying more attention. No need to trip over the kid she's dancing with, after all. There's another soft snort at Morlanol as Cenlia says wryly, "Thea probably knows how to dance." But glancing around, she spots a Thea that is /not/ dancing, and Cen's eyebrows hike up. "Hunh," she mumbles to herself, and then gooes back to watching her feet. Left, right, step. Simple, right? Or was that left… orchard dances were never this stiff.

The Harper makes a circuit of the perimeter and notices the newer arrivals. He pauses beside Jessamin, "No partner tonight?" He flicks a glance over towards Satoris, asking in a dry voice, "Would you show some courtesy and partner this young lady? Think you can manage not to scare this one off?" He remains, waiting with a gleam of challenge in his eye, but since there is no answer from the miner, he tsks and offers his arm to Jessamin himself.

Thea snorts softly at Satoris, "And if you ever represent the Weyr as Weyrleader at some Gather?" Her lips twist in wry amusement. It's a long stretch, her expression seems to say. Her head tilts, "All the others are doing it, but you." Her eyes roll, but then drift to spot Enkavir in there with the others and a wistful sigh escapes her parted lips. She shakes her head and deliberately looks elsewhere.

Morlanol relaxes some as Cen begins to relax. Gently, he taps out the beat on her hip and whispers, "left - right - out, left - right - out." He continues this cadence until she begins to feel more comfortable in the steps. "I'm sure y' c'n dance too, once y' practice some." He blushes lightly again, "I think y' coul' 'press a gol' if y' wanted t'."

Rogawani just nods his head, and then seems to almost give up on small-talk. This really wasn't a situation where he could be himself. Instead, he seems to focus on each step, one after another. His eyes lift as he looks around at the other candidates, finally seeming to take in what they all are wearing. "I have to admit, some folks clean up pretty nice. Makes me feel downright underdressed." He looks back down at himself, and then seems to smile sheepishly. He seems to just continue the simpler steps shown by the harpers, not being too brave about the whole ordeal.

Keziah hmms a little "Most people clean up real well with a bath." she notes with a smirk. Though she herself looks around a little, she seems almost thoughful, but then there's a yelp as she suddenly goes down, eyes wide. Poor Ro, and here he said he wouldn't let her fall. Some things just can't be helped it seems. "I think I twisted." she murmurs as she eyes said ankle.

Jessamin's gaze is drawn for a moment to Satoris, her head tilting thoughtfully. But no, it does not seem to be her fate to partner the miner this evening, as it is the Harper himself who offers her his arm. She dips into a respectable curtsey, ducking her head perhaps a bit shyly as her slender, needle-pricked fingers then rest atop her partner's arm. Nobody could accuse her of being clumsy, at least! Her flits, having followed her from the barracks, now each seem to take to a light pole, their eyes whirling with mild concern, though they trill softly in time with the music.

Liya places one hand to B'ky's shoulder, her other taking the offered hand before the two step out into the dance. Liya bends her neck, peering downwards as she focuses her gaze to her feet, seeming to concentrate very deeply. As she begins to move, she's actually not all that bad. She's obviously more graceful when she's rested and not running herself ragged. Though she does the occasional misstep, for the most part she follows B'ky rather smoothly. Maybe just because he knows what he's doing to lead.

"I bathe regularly." Rogawani quips back all to easily, raising his eyebrows at his partner before looking away again. He takes one step to the side, and then there's a sudden yelp. "Keziah?" He turns back, looking shocked as his hand tries to cling to hers. "Are you alright?" Apparently he wasn't expecting this at all, and a guilty look forms on his face. "I'm sorry." He mutters quickly, bending down near her. "Come on, lean on me. We'll get it looked at." No, he doesn't mention a thing about healers, but he does try to take some of her weight off of the ankle, ready to lead the way off the dance floor.

B'ky doesn't seem to mind any possible missteps, adjusting his pace a little and offering the occasional tip here or there. Apparently, the man is used to dance lessons, or perhaps just has a great deal of patience. Avideth, from his spot at the far end of the meadow, rumbles quietly. B'ky's eyes unfocus for a moment, and he sighs softly, giving Liya an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid I have duties to attend to." He slows his steps to a stop, and with a gentle smile tells the girl, "With practice, I think you would be very good at dancing." He bows again, and then turns back to his weyr with a sigh, where Avideth is rustling his wings with contained impatience.

Cenlia gives the hand tapping her hip a vaguely irritated look, and then actually lets out a laugh, "Me? Hah!" But at least that has her giggling. It's probably a good thing. "Wonder if Eled'll actually show up for the hatching." She smirks a bit, "Bet my brother'd eat his socks if I impressed." But the amusement quickly fades, the girl muttering, "Shards, I hope he doesn't show up. If I don't impress, he might do somethin' stupid, like try to punch X'hil or something." But she shakes her head and then frowns, "Shards, I left the flits in the greenhouse." And off she goes, skirt billowing as she darts out of the dance without a second look.

The Harper rests a light hand on Jessamin's waist, guiding her hand to his shoulder before offering the girl his other hand. "Just follow my steps, lovely lady, hmm?" He looks down at her with a bit of mischief in his blue eyes, his lips quirking in an enigmatic smile, "Trust me?" And he moves with grace to do that slow whirl, weaving them both skillfully between the slower moving candidate couples. There's enough noise that he misses Keziah's yelp, but his former partner lady-harper drops to a crouch bedside the Candidate with a soft, "You alright there?" Rogawani seems to have things under control, however.

Thea watches Satoris leave with a small scowl, but she doesn't taunt him, merely murmurs to herself, "It's hard being separated-" She bites down on that comment, leaving it unfinished as her eyes, glimmering with a sheen once again drift towards the Candidates, her eyes resting for a moment on the dark head of a particularly tall one. With a sigh, she steps away, fading into the darkness.

Morlanol gasps a little, watching Cen run off. His own flits being asleep on his cot, he's not certain what's going on. Agate pops out of /between/ crooning comfortingly to the poor, jilted boy. He glances at Thea as if saying, see, she left. He gives a similarly dejected to Rogawani, then turns, slipping off to the barracks before anyone can make his failure all the more obvious.

It's a good think Ro didn't mention healers, Keziah'd refuse or some such. She lets herself be helped up and hobbles off with Ro. She looks quite embarrassed and such and gives a nod to the harper lady "Just a little twist" She says "Be right as rain and all real soon like"

Liya is left standing alone, as many of the others seem to have been. She glances aside for the harper, who she watches for a few minutes, just standing. After those few minutes though, she notices this is probably a good time to slip off. She looks to Thea for a moment, trying to gauge whether or not she'll be faulted for leaving now…but decides either way with her partner gone and so many running off that now is perfect. She takes the opportunity and steps back down the pole lined pathway.

Jessamin allows herself a somewhat enigmatic smile in return, as the Harper draws her into the slow, lazy whirl of the dance. This one is evidently not unfamiliar to her, if perhaps unused for some time; her initial steps falter, but gain in confidence rapidly, as her body remembers something nearly forgotten. The music swirls around and through her, sweeping her back to an earlier time; for the briefest of moments, she seems a touch younger than her eighteen turns, her smile shifting to one far closer to her usual genuine joviality. What could have happened in that span? No matter, the music and the steps go on, turning, twirling, weaving in and out; the music is the warp, and the dancers, the weft.

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