Hatching Feast

Xanadu Weyr - Caverns

A massive cavern in it's own right, this one has been skillfully adapted for human habitation. The high ceilings have been painted a light, soft ivory, as are the walls where numerous tapestries hang to provide brilliant color and insulation from the stone. The floor has been left in its natural state, pale pink granite speckled through with glittering mica and dark flecks of basalt, leveled carefully but kept sufficiently rough to avoid slips.
The cavern itself is loosely divided into areas, each one set up to be suitable for some segment of the Weyr's population. The most frequently occupied area, however, is the one near the Kitchens where tables of varying sizes provide a place to sit down and eat or chat and a buffet of consumables is almost always kept stocked. Its plain that on most days, this area wouldn't accommodate anywhere near the full population of the Weyr and equally plain that on such occasions when a formal meal is laid out, tables are appropriated from all the other areas.
A big fireplace is set into the wall near the Kitchens as well, several comfortable chairs nearby providing haunts for elderly residents or riders who like a good view of all that happens. Rugs cover the floor in strategic spots, all of them abstract or geometric in design and most in the softly neutral colors of undyed wool.

It is late afternoon now in Xanadu, this last week of winter. It's been several hours since the eggs on the Sands have hatched, the newly-bonded pairs have been stuffed, oiled and able to curl up in their dragon couches and snooze their exhaustion away. Guests who had arrived for the midnight hatching either left a-dragonback and returned or were put up somewhere in the Weyr. Breakfast served, many went back to bed, while others hustled all day to prepare the coming feast. Frozen lamb carcasses, hauled to the Hatching Grounds for faster thawing have been spit-roasting in outdoor pits, the aroma wafting through the Weyr. Gifts of food, fresh fruit and succulent vegetables, tender wherries… all prepared and piled in serving tray on the now-loaded tables. Guests are mingling, eating while laughter sprinkles the conversations.

Keziah follows her nose, past the pits and into the cavern "Now here's the part I like best. Food!" she exclaims happily. She's been waitin' on these lambs ever since she talked to Oce about bringing some in. Course, at the moment she's doing well to just snag a bite here and there as she's snagged by one family member or another of the new weyrlings and the unImpressed. "Yes, it's still possible they could Impress." A turn "I'm sure he'll be a great rider, his dragon just hasn't hatched yet." Spin this way. "Oh yes, we are excited to have her as rider, she'll be great." And on it goes. What's a hungry girl to do?

Fooooooooooood. This is the foremost thought occurring in Flandynn's head -well, Fl'ynn's head. You know, this is all besides the whole newly impressed dragonrider thing. Call it a residual after stuffing a certain flowery blue to the point of delirium. In like… well, Fl'ynn, he ducks in between a couple of people, intent to fill his empty plate with a full one piled in MEAT, and bread and this and that and oh, some more, and oooh, that looks good too.

Among the guests is a unusually tall man with greying long dark blond hair, upon his shoulder a knot depicting him as a brownrider from Eastern weyr. In his hand a glass of Benden red, as he softly converses with a small group of people off to one side. Mingling as it were. He appeared to be somewhere in his late fifties, but still held himself with all the pride and airs of someone much younger with with quite a bit more rank than his knot was portraying. Hanging on his arm, an Eastern greenrider, in his late teens early twenties. Dark spiked hair and violet-blue eyes, also enjoying the conversation and a glass of wine. "Always knew the boy had potential." the brownrider boosts with a voice that denotes breeding the man simply didn't have, his face weathered but still handsome and as tanned as the rest of his visible skin. "We're from a long line of dragonriders. It was only a matter of time."

Briana finally makes her way to the feast, nearly having to be dragged away from her lifemate. Even as she enters there are glances in the general direction of the Weyrling Cavern ever so far away, or at least that is how it feels. Then the aroma of food hits her and she is distracted enough to join the lines in filling herself a plate. While she waits there is a look around the caverns, seeking out a familiar face. Bits of meat are chosen for the plate when she finally gets to the head of the line and a few bits of vegatable. Finally she looks for other weyrlings to sit with and comes to Fl'ynn's side , "Hey there…"

As many hours as it's been since the hatching, I'srie appears at least marginally stable on his feet, the earlier trembling and general overwhelmedness having faded into a general expression of wonder, which he keeps attempting to suppress. Someone.. is definitely looking sort of starry-eyed, pondwater gaze flicking from one face to another as he slowly enters the living caverns. There's apprehension evident in his face, barely-concealed behind an expression schooled into indifference. And yet, as ge takes a breath, there is a telltale wetting of lips and nervous glance back over his shoulder. The former holder's son is dressed entirely in sleek black, trimmed with grey, finely woven fabrics snugly fitted, pants tucked neatly into wherhide boots, jacket left partly unbuttoned at the collar, where a glinting rectangular charm sits at his throat, hung from a thin silver chain. His hair has been combed neatly, and upon his shoulder is a brand new weyrling knot, threaded blue for his lifemate. It's not toward the food tables he heads, but instead around the perimeter of the crowd, seeking.. someone. For the lord and lady of Breakwater Hold are still amongst the guests, along with what few family could make it to the hatching.

Qe'pol is off to the side, being more or less manhandled by a number of people. It's a less than happy look on his face, over the fussing of mother and sister, and the constant back-smacking of brother and father. "That's my boy! Getting a dragon! Guess this Weyrlife was just what you needed to shape up, become a /real/ man, learn some responsibility." And now? Now Qe'pol is choking on his own tongue, face paling drastically. He's shaking his head, trying to get a word in edgewise, but failing as all other family members agree completely. "Here, now, I see some other cotholders we know, son. We're going to go talk business, you take your sister here and mingle. Don't you let any riders touch her, here?" A finger is waggled in the bronzerider's face. The urge to break it (even if it is his father's) increases in the teenager, but he resists. "Right, sir." The words are like POISON on his tongue. "C'mon, Aqueeila," Said sister's hand is grabbed, though the young fourteen turn old already has her eyes set on one particular person. Luckily, it's the person that Qe'pol is already turning towards. "You 'member Iess, right? He's… err… now… I'srie, right?" A stare goes to the other holder. Aqueeila is already batting her lashes, getting closer and closer to the bluerider. "Ooof coourse, I remember /you/, Iessrien." Flutter. Dragonrider name? What dragonrider name?

Thea never really did get to go back to bed. Accompanying Seryth to the feeding grounds, tending her afterwards, then helping settle guests and oversee preparations for the Feast, she's finally found time to change into a fine dress of deep claret, her heavy fall of dark hair done up in an intricate twist and return to mingle with the guests. She's been soothing some of the Candidates and parents of the non-impressed but now, she seeks the Guests of Honor as she slips though the crowd, easily withstanding the 'spell' E'lan seems to be casting on his listeners. As she nears the serving tables, she stops beside Fl'ynn and Briana. "No, no, I'll wait my turn," she demurs as someone tries to let her cut in line. It's those figures wearing the weyrling knots her eyes seek, keen assessment in the pale green of her eyes as her gaze finds them.

Keziah has finally found a chance to slip away and pile up her plate of food. A little of this a little of that, some sizzling lamb chops and lamb sausage and some kebabs with lamb meat and veggies. She looks around and then finds a group of people she knows to sit with and eat and watch. Personally, she thinks she's done enough talking and all. Of course, what she wants isn't always what she gets and finds herself stuck with some old biddy who is going on about all those who Impressed and whether they should have or shouldn't have and on and on and on and poor Keziah just looks terribly cornered.

I'srie halts, his search postponed by the arrival of Qe'pol and.. little sister. Iess swallows, apprehension suddenly shifting to the fore, but not for his bronzer bro there. No, it's the girl he's eyeing, and looking like he might want to suddenly run in the opposite direction. Manners win out, though, as Iess inclines his head, offering a hand, palm up, for the young lady to give hers, though his voice is more wary than charming, "Aqueelia, it's.. uh, nice to see you again." A glance is darted at Pol, and a less formal, "Hey, man. You.. seen my parents? Looks like your dad is happy." That last observation made a little wryly, though there's a twitch of a grin for it. It's about that time that a pair of Holders dressed in gather best begin zeroing in on the new bluerider, the man with blue eyes that could only be described as piercing, hair inky black and streked with silver-grey at the temples, the woman pale but with green eyes and browner hair, done up in a fancy braid while both their garments are similar to Iess', blues and greys trimming elegant black, with hints of silver in buttons and cufflinks. I'srie spots them, and freezes, swallowing back any other words.

Pyriel does appear at some point, or P'rel rather. Hands are shoved into the pockets of his weyrhide pants, golden eyes flickering over the assembled people as he hesitates at the doorway. Despite the weyrling knot on his shoulder and the bronze cord woven into it, it might appear as if he had the very presence of mind to turn right back around and leave. In fact, as his gaze settles on E'lan and J'ten, it looks like that's exactly his attention. A scowl contorts his features, and starts to leave again. That is until violet-blue eyes, always wandering it appears, zone in on the retreating blond head and he squeals, "There he is E'lan! There he is! PYRIEL! Over there!" Of course every single person in that grouping with the Eastern riders, including E'lan turns to look the way that J'ten was pointing so enthusiastically. Without letting go of the older man's arm, mind you. The former harper cringes and freezes into place, and then very slowly turns back, scowl in place. Lashes lift and his gold hues come to rest on light blue, E'lan's chin lifting only and just with that, the bronzerider starts to make his way over there, finding glaring purchase upon the floor, even as he comes to stand beside two Eastern riders. "This is my son," E'lan says, gesturing with a hand towards the deathly silent boy. "What did your /bronze/ dragon name you, Pyriel? And his name?" There is a pause here, before the brownrider explains to his gathered flock. "J'ten and I were so high up, we weren't able to hear anything." The groups ah's and nods, before all eyes train onto the obviously unhappy and uncomfortable boy in their midst. "P'rel…and Malphath…" he mutters. "Ah!" E'lan preens himself, "P'rel and Malphath, fine names for a fine pair!" J'ten holds up his glass and cheers gleefully. "To P'rel and Malphath!" The group joins in, and at this point the boy was brilliantly red and trying to disappear form the way he was hunched over himself. "Faranth lad, stand up straight. You act as you have nothing to be grateful for." E'lan says with a flat humor that was more father to son scolding than praise, but Py does straighten, even if his hands remain in his pockets and his eyes on the floor.

As she hears the voice of the Weyrwoman, Briana looks up over her shoulder and dips a little bow, "Evening Weyrwoman." She says and from the look on her face she probably has not had much sleep either, but there is still the brightness of excitement in her gaze. No doubt she will crash hard tonight with a fully belly in her. She looks to Fl'ynn and nods, "Yeah, Sahazyth…finally got her fed enough…" She says with a half smile as she follows the blue weyrling to a seat, "What about yours? What is he like?"

"Nope," is Qe'pol's response, looking bored and all kinds of wanting-to-get-out-of-here. "Mine may have found yours, though, since my dad took off quick…" Stare. "Eh. Nope. Looks like he's chatting up someone else. Anyway, apparently, they've been twitterin' to yours 'bout something for some time now, sayin' your name and… I dun know, really, I dun listen. It's dull." Sigh. "Mine had no clue you were even here, let alone a candidate, till they saw ya on the sands. My bad, forgot to mention it to 'em." Ahem. Aqueeila, all the while, just gets closer and closer to the bluerider, giant, pink puffy hearts evident in her overly large youthful eyes. Daintily, the lass places her hand in I'srie, a girlishly high giggle coming forth from her mouth. "Aaaah, Iessrien." If a fourteen turn old could purr, she most definitely would be. "You were /always/ such a /charming/ lad." Not nearly as uncouth as her older brother, the young holder-girl gives a delicate and ladylike curtsey, eye-lids lowering demurely. "It's /such/ a pleasure to see /you/ again, my dearest, dearest, sweet Iessrien! I do hope, now that you are," Distaste fills her face, if only for a fraction of a second. "…member of this… Weyr… that I'll be able to see you all the more." Qe'pol half-listens, half-doesn't. "Yer dragon sleepin', Iess? Cuz I ain't sure if Nisu is or not, not sure how to re—" The bronzerider gets quiet as the other holder's parents seem to be walking towards them. Suddenly, Pol's back straightens and he attempts to look proper.

Kyldar comes in from outside, and looks around tentatively. After a moment she makes a pass by the food table, gathering up some of that roasted lamb and a big pile of veggies. She makes her way amid the crowd, with a nod here and there. "Greetings, all," she greets.

"Asleep." Fl'ynn notes back to Briana. He gives her a bit of a nudge with an elbow, forgoing any wink for now, as he pops one of the rolls into his mouth. Taking a healthy bite, the teen chews away, his cheeks puffing out like some kind of terran chipmunk. And this is how the rest of the evening will be, as Fl'ynn does his best to copy his new dragon, getting his tummy fat and then falling into a food coma.

Thea isn't close enough that she actually hears Pyriel's reply, although she's looking that way when he makes it and thus reads his lips. She gives a tiny shake of her head, her lips tightening fractionally. Back to Briana, her face relaxes and a genuine curves her lips. "Congratulations to you and Sahayzyth. I'm proud of you both." It's a warmly-given sentiment, one hand reaching to give her shoulder a gentle squeeze as the girl passes. Her eyes follow in the direction she's going, noting Fl'ynn and her head nods to him if she can catch his eye. Her name is called from somewhere across the room, so with a soft, "Excuse me," she slips in that direction. It brings her near where the young bronzerider now called P'rel is standing. Quietly, meant for his ears only, but in an iron tone she murmurs, "That is 'P'rel…and Malphath, SIR' Weyrling." Ice flashes in her eyes but only momentarily before she turns to greet Kyldar with a smile of welcome over the noise in the room. "Good evening."

Briana looks up to the Weyrwoman, "She is amazing..I fell in love with her while she was in the shell…" That touching where she nearly knelt down and embraced the leathery ovoid. The one egg that perhaps made her stay and not run away from candidacy. She nods as the woman runs off in another direction and she takes a seat next to Fl'ynn though she looks around the caverns again in a searching look before looking back to the blue weyrling and nodding, "Yeah, she finally settled as well. She wanted to come with, but her eyes were dropping after the full meal."

"They were?" is that sudden panic in I'srie's face, the look he gives Qe'pol nothing short of panicked, "My name?" That can /never/ be good, when their parents get to plotting together. The yelling across the living caverns has the weyrling blinking distractedly and just briefly glancing over, pondwater-gaze pausing a few seconds on P'rel, and the praise being apparently heaped upon the young bronzer. Lips press into a line, just briefly, and he quickly looks away, though it's only to be confronted by Aqueeila and her hand. Iess looks as if he'd rather eat his own foot just then, but nevertheless lifts the girl's hand to press a light and very polite kiss, releasing it a moment later and straightening, Qe'pol's sudden shift in manners beside him earning the briefest twitch of a smirk. But Iessrien, too, is standing with suddenly better posture, shoulders shifting back, chin lifted. "Father. Mother," he greets ever so carefully, and politely, "You remember Aqueepoli- uh, it's Qe'pol now, and.. his sister Aqueeila." There's a slow, quiet breath taken as the Breakwater Holders descend upon them, though it's lord Kevdrien who addresses his son, lips curling in mild distaste as he nods to the boy, "Iessrien." And then a less obviously irritated nod at the SouthShore holder spawn, "Ah. Yes of course, how are your parents? I imagine they've made it down for the hatching. Congratulations." His gaze flicks back to I'srie, the man taking a good long look at the boy's knot, "And what are they calling you now? I see you've managed marginally. I suppose I shouldn't have expected much, given the circumstances." Still, at least Iess' mother has a mildly less disappointed, "Congratulations, in any case," to offer the boys.

Kyldar takes a seat. "Hello, and Western's duties and all that," she says to Thea. She forks up some veggies, and smiles friendlily. "That was quite a show, the hatching, even as hatchings go. Congratulations to all the new weyrlings."

As if to make matters worse, Thea comes over and says something to P'rel and the boy's head snaps up turning golden eyes upon her with a knitting a brows. There is, for some reason, a pleading expression and a light shake of his head in regard to the Weyrwoman. E'lan though, is quick to turn towards Thea now, one brow arched towards her and the whispering. A quick dart of light blue eyes to the knot on the woman's shoulder and the brownrider's demeanor changes completely from haughty to welcoming. "Ah! Weyrwoman! Eastern duties to Xanadu and her Queens." he greets, and really there was no mistaking this man as P'rel's father, they were quite similar in looks despite the drastic age difference. A suggestion perhaps of the handsome beauty awaiting the boy as he grew and matured. "A fine clutch, if ever was one to be seen." Even with the upbeat turn of phrase, E'lan's words are evenly said to suggest a high holder birth rather than weyrbred. Intentionally so, considering the care taken. P'rel glances between gold and brownrider, and then the greenrider beside his father, twitching oddly. This is for the pretty pretty smile that J'ten shines on Thea as if she were the only person in the entire room. Pressure off for a moment, golden eyes fly about the other groups gathered and that is where he discovers the holders over some distance away. Qe'pol, I'srie, some teenage girl that looks like Pol, and two adults he couldn't see with their backs to him.

Holder manners being stuffed down the lad's throat since before he could walk, Qe'pol gives a sweeping bow to the lord and lady of BreakWater Hold, nodding stiffly once he's right side up once more, "Aye, sir, they are as… happy as can be expected. As you can assume, it was not their desire I come to the Weyr and impress, simply learn… a lesson or two." He smiles though it's brittle, the teenager easily taking a step or two back, edging his way out of the line of sight of the two, hopeful to be forgotten. Aqueelia, always the little lady-in-training, gives a deep curtsey, keeping her eyes to the ground, mouth zipped shut, save for a quiet "Sir, ma'am." She knows her place, at least amongst Holder-type, being seen and not heard. Though a long, thorough look is sent towards the bluerider, speaking of discussions yet to be had. Qe'pol's left eye gives a twitch as the words I'srie's father has for the other young holder, but says nothing. His own eyes dart away, find P'rel, in which frantic come hither hand movements are made, as well as gestures towards Iessrien's parents and makes trying-to-be-subtle stabbing-his-own-face motions. Yeah. It's just that good.

"And Xanadu's duties to your queens," the Weyrwoman answers more formally to Kyldar, but warmly nonetheless. Back to Pyriel, her expression remains implacable; she's not dense, has certainly picked up on a few things, but, "You are a weyrling now. There's going to be more unpleasant things you'll be getting used to. And you represent Xanadu now." All said lowly to the boy with a firm nod in E'lan's direction. She's waiting for him to correct himself. Her reply to E'lan is just enough shy of frosty to be taken as impolite, "Thank you. Likewise." She is not impressed by his elocution, ignoring J'ten completely. Her gaze returns to P'rel, dark brows lift fractionally. She's waaaaaiting. If he does his familiar floor-scowl, he'll even see her toe tapping ever so slightly.

Briana looks up again, glancing to the family gathering with a touch of envy in her eyes before she looks away and scans other little gatherings of the same. Finally her golden eyes rest upon a more familiar face and she smiles, rising to her feet and running over to Kaldrozen, "You did come…" She calls out to him, holding her hands toward him as she nears the Istan resident.

Kaldrozen smiles as he spots Briana and moves to come over to her. He extends his hand to her and smiles, "I told you I would be here.." he smiles and offers her his hand, "congratulations."

P'rel's pleading expression goes mournful, truly. There was no sanctuary to be found from the Weyrwoman. Sadly there no denying the fact that he wasn't going to escape doing what the green eyed goldrider was insisting. Just as pridicted perhaps, he does scowl and look to the floor. "P'rel and Malphath, SIR…" he corrects, despite nearly choking on the last word half way through it. "Excuse me. Ma'am…Seeerrr…" Bleh, the blond was screwing his face up on that second term of respect apparently due his father, and he elbows past the man and the greenrider hanging off him, separating them briefly, but a second later they were connected again. J'ten is blinking in surprise, while E'tan's face is set in displeasure. His pale eyes trail after his youngest son, the reality of what lies beneath the mask of polite and engaging flickering across his aging features. Absolute disdain and disinterest. The blond boy had seen Qe'pol's frantic gesturing and now makes his way over to his fellow bronzer and the unfamiliar girl with him. Golden eyes dart to her fleetingly, brows sinking a second, before his expression softs in concern towards Pol. "What's goin' on man?" he asks, glancing over towards I'srie and the two adults with him. "That Iess' parents?" he asks, having totally abandoned Thea to his father and his 'friend.' "At least he lost all those useless metal things on his face, right E'lan?" J'ten says at last, altogether rather snarky in regards to the boy who's praises he had been singing, blandly admiring the red hue of his glass' contents, right before taking a sip from it. E'lan's chin lifts and he coolly nods to the greenrider, though pale eyes are turned back to Thea. No he had not missed her icy reply given the current state of his countenance. "Indeed, Weyrwoman." comes the equally chilly reply, true colors showing plain as day rather than in passing. "If you will excuse us." Sweeping bow, overly done perhaps, and just as much as vaguely impolite as Thea's tone had been previously, the brownrider herds J'ten off in the direction Py had escaped to. After, of course, nods and apologies are given to his rapt audience.

I'srie's jaw tightens, though he manages to stand absolutely straight and still, perhaps too still, hardly breathing as fingers curl only slightly at his sides. The sight of Pol being all mannerly and polite does have the boy's lips twitching with barely-contained amusement, but the words from his father darken his expression almost immediately. It's schooled, oh so carefully, into politeness, but there;s no hiding the fractional narrowing of eyes and slight tremor in his posture. Lord Kevdrien merely nods to Qe'pol, the other former holder son's knot given a brief flick of a glance before the man comments, almsot too easily, "Still, not a terribly outcome. Your parents must be quite proud." A pause, a /look/ at Iessrien, "..Quite proud. A shame not all sons could live up to expectations." And here he gives a quiet, but long-suffering sigh, and Iess.. well. The young man probably expected it, of course, had steeled himself for it, but that doesn't keep the utterly devastated look off his face. He'd /tried/, dammit! Good thing the holders are focused on their son, as neither the lord nor lady apparently notice Pol's gesturing, nor the approach of the other bronzeling, but Iess does, and it's one look at his bros - a flat, shaken look between P'rel and Qe'pol - before he's saying tightly to his father, "No, sir. I suppose not," voice gone stil land quiet as a frozen lake, "If you'll excuse me," is that a faint tremble in his own tone? "..Tscyleth needs seeing to. Xanadu's duties to Breakwater Hold," and he'd sketches somewhat.. stiff bow, as much to suddenly hide his face as attempt marginal manners before he suddenly.. storms out of the caverns, hand flying to his face. His parents /do/ have the decency to look vaguely startled, as much for that last part as for the boy's fleeing, but an exchange of glances and some frowns have them moving along, probably to find the SouthShore Holders or somesuch.

Briana smiles to the taller man, her hands taking his. Perhaps the only touch they are allowed. There is a bittersweet look upon her features as she sees him. "Another two turns Kal..but you should see her. She is so amazing…so beautiful…she loves me like you do. All of me." She says with a bright eyed look to her features as she speaks of her lifemate.

Thea isn't there to acknowledge E'lan's leave-taking, so his chilly 'excuse me' is left hanging on thin air. The weyrwoman isn't chasing down P'rel, either. No, she'll deal with -him- in her own sweet time and her own unique way. She's pivoted on her heel the moment that second sullen 'Sir' left the boy's de-metaled lips. She's spotted a V'dim our of the corner of her periphery and the man is eagle-eying the storming P'rel, the Weyrlingmaster's countenance is looking like a thundercloud. His steely gaze follows the retreating Weyrling back to the… yes, Qe'pol, he saw that face-stabbing! He's already taken one long stride in their direction when Thea intercepts him. "Later," she murmurs under her breath. "Right now I need a word with you, please." Behind her back she makes frantic 'flee-while-you-can' motions in the boys direction, hopefully SOMEone gets a clue and sees it. Public dressings-down at a Feast, hopefully avoided.

"I… err… wouldn't say that, sir. I reckon they'd prefer I came home and married some boobless wonder from one of the cotholds." Qe'pol slaps his own hand over his mouth. "I… I mean. Uh. YES. VERY PROUD SIR." Now he sidesteps some more, inching farther and farther away from the Holders. Of course Aqueeila's wrist is grabbed as well, dragging the young lady with him. Though she's making doe-eyes at Iessrien, naught a word leaving his lips, though loving poems being spoken from her eyes. So it's a pout on her face now, being moved away from her One True Love. At least she stays quiet though. "Yeah, dude," He whispers, jerking his chin at the two. "Lord and lady of Breakwater. Can we say 'stick in the mud' cuz, they are. Worse than my own folks. Not so much my brother though, he's an ass. Looks up to lord Breakwater." Names don't matter, only rank. "Anyway, he needs savin' or… or /something/. Jus' go kick his dad inna shin, kay? That'll fix things. I.. erm… can't." Why can't he? Cause his own parents are seeking him out again, and his older brother, the next lord of SouthShore, has a rather large, disapproving frown on his face. That doesn't bode well for the bronzerider. "I got me a shardin' dragon, an' still I'm treated like an' idiot." Eyeroll. "C'mon, Eila, let's beat 'em at the pass, think they've been talkin' to some riders round here, learned some… things." Probably not good things. Though before the bronzeriding weyrling can even make a move, I'srie has taken off, Qe'pol sending a wincing expression at his fellow holder. "Shards, that sonofa…" Not talking about the bluerider here. P'rel gets a long, meaningful stare. His sister's wrist is dropped, "Yer on your own." He tells her, notes Thea's own motions and then takes off himself, walk-running after I'srie, though trying to be all nonchalant about it. NOTHING OUT OF THE ORDINARY HERE. "Nisuanekhdjieth needs me." Is all that's stated to his own confused parents and siblings as he rushes past them, flicking a hand in good-bye (and good riddance). Qe'pol. Is. Outta here!

There was plenty enough reason for P'rel to vacate the area, a quick glance over his shoulder was enough to signal to him that his father and companion were in pursuit, only a few more groups of gathered to push through before they would be on him. A moment of panic, and the bronzerider focuses in on I'srie long enough to get the basic goings on, and then to Pol as his eyes widen. "Wha…" he starts to say but is cut off when a shudder wracks his entire body, staring blankly forward even as his blueriding friend breezes past him and out the door. Py barely notices the love lorn Aqueelia left before him before feet turn in the direction that Qe'pol had fasted walked and he's outta there at a dead run. "No. No. Malphath!" he calls out loud, not having noticed Thea's hand motioning for escape. Nor V'dim's appearance. Then he's gone and just in time, for E'lan arrives with J'ten to find only a rather flushed and confused holder girl in place of his son. "Did you see which way he went, Jan?" the browrider asks the younger man, but the greenrider was uselessly checking out Qe'pol's eldest brother. This earns the violet-eyed rider a scowl that disturbingly echoes Pyriel's before E'lan yanks his arm away and heads for the clearing. J'ten blinks once and chases after him, "Wait up E'lan! What's wrong? What happened? Where did that nuisance go?" The greenrider's pleading questions are ignored, and this only causes the younger male to whine loudly. "What did I doooooooooooo? E'lan! E'lan!!!" And soon the Eastern riders are gone, a boisterous argument starts just outside soon fading as distance is put between them and the hatching feasters.

It isn't long that Thea is conferencing with V'dim. In fact, he's cognizant of the mass exodus (if three Weyrlings could be called that). The man has eyes in the back of his head, don't ya know. Likely alerted by Isobeth to what has P'rel fleeing to Malphath, he's out the door with long strides, appearing unhurried but ground-eating all the same. If the green/blue riding pair attempt to set one foot into the Weyrling Barracks he'll happily break said feet. But he has the rank. Feast day at Xanadu - just one biiiig happy family. Yup.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 License