And You Thought it Was Just Brunch (Seryth Rises)

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.
Exits lead off in all directions, a big archway the largest and that leading outside. Shallow stairs to the west lead to the offices and administration area while tunnels to the east lead to the infirmary, kitchen and resident's quarters. Southwards, a sloping tunnel leads down to the hot springs.

It's mid-morning and winter has its grip firmly upon Xanadu. Despite the bone-cold chill Rukbat's weak glare has the ice clinging to trees, ground, fences and icicles a-glitter. With the skies fair, traffic in and out of Xanadu is busy with shipments and visitors alike coming and going. It's a busy day and things are humming along with the kitchens bustling and wonderful smells filling the caverns.

A'dmar is likely one of those busy with shipments, coming in out of the cold, rubbing his gloved hands together as he nods over at a mason that's coming along at his side. "I'm telling you, you'll have to manage with what stone we've mined out there so far," that's A'dmar's business like tone, trying to shake off the cold of the Weyr, looking as if he's been spending ample time up North where the sun is definitely shining through, "We've run into a lair and it will take us time to clear the area before the mining can resume. I need to speak to the Weyrwoman about this." The mason looks concerned, making a few notes on a parchment before excusing himself, with promises to bring back word on what stone they need more now that the supply of the one is limited. A'dmar watches the mason move off before he's headed toward the tables, getting himself a drink, hot klah.

Mid-morning and ka-el is only now getting to breakfast! The starved apprentice has just found a seat at a table that's just been cleared and is happily tucking into his food. Alloy is near, although he'd likely rather be somewhere else warmer than Xanadu at the moment. But the young bronze firelizard has found a comfortable spot near the fireplace to snooze while Kale people watches.

Work-related errands have brought T’as to Xanadu, and the need for klah has driven him indoors as he awaits his rendezvous. Once inside the caverns' warmth, he strips off his long scarf and unbuttons his flight jacket, boots click-clacking as he meanders through in search of the reviving beverage, easily distracted by… well, near enough everything. However, he makes it to the klah eventually, finding himself alongside A'dmar. "Mornin'," he greets the fellow rider warmly enough, with a bob of his head that causes his floppy fringe to fall across his dark eyes.

Idrissa has spent most of her morning down at the stables, where else could she possible be other then there? Breakfast was the only thing that could possible pull her away from her work at the moment, which is why Rissa is just making her way into the cavern. She pauses long enough to work on getting some snow off her boots, and pull her gloves off which are stuck into a coat pocket. A glance is offered around and she moves onwards, something warm to drink would be just great at the moment.

Ph'rys is just here visiting family — he has come from Ierne as well, but not with trade. His parents and sister still live and ride here, after all! So it's with them that he's sitting, cane up against the side of the table, looking much more cheerful than much anyone ever sees Ph'rys these days. Being in the south has seemed to suit him well, though, and Xanadu's seen him more in the past four months than it had in the other thirty-six turns since he left.

A break between classes has Soriana here for… late breakfast? Early lunch? She isn't sure. Either way, she snags a mug of klah and a few definitely nutritious sweetrolls and slides herself into a seat next to Kale, wiggling fingers to him and taking a bite of her sweetroll instead of actually saying hello in, y'know, words.

Ly’am saunters in from the outside, walking alongside a local harper Journeyman. The pair are chatting as they enter. The local harper leading them towards the Klah pot, "They make it nice and strong here, should be what you are looking for." Ly'am laughs, "Good, been running errands all day, could use a perk up before I head back."

"So it is," A'dmar reponds to the greeting from T'as, fellow Ierne rider and all that. Although the man isn't taking the approach he generally would with someone he knows well, drawing the klah to his lips, letting the froth of foam work between his lips before testing out the liquid. A bit too hot apparently as he jerks his lips back, to further blow on the steaming brew. "It's a bit hot," he'll warn T'as before the fellow Ierne bronzerider also burns his tongue on the klah, and likely loud enough for Ly'am to hear it as well.

Shattering the peace is the faint sound of a slamming door - one of the office doors back there in the corridor. The door to the administration hall opens and the Weyrwoman stalks out into the caverns, ignoring the chiding voice behind her. In her hand is a knot - the Weyrsecond's to be exact. "No! I won't have you dying of a burst heart because you're too stubborn to-" She comes to a stop in the center of the room, momentarily forgetting her purpose, blinking at the hum of activity. Now where was she? Oh yes! She has spotted Kale (not that she hasn't seen the rest - they're given a vague wave with that knot). She makes for the smithcrafter with weaving steps. "My new Weyrsecond." And the teen is given a smile that is between dreamy and steamy. Is she… slurring her words? You betcha.

"Is it just me," Ph'rys asks bronzerider Ph'leri, his father, next to him, "or does it look as if she has just promoted a teenage boy to Weyrsecond?" From his angle, that's what he's seeing: there's Thea, with the knot, looking a little bit drunk and talking about the Weyrsecond's knot with her focus on Kale. Ph'leri, for his part, appears a bit confused, even if he doesn't seem to be entirely paying attention. The exchange is interesting enough to Ph'rys he turns his seat out slightly, trying to get a better view. /This/ isn't something that happens every day.

"So it would seem," T'as replies to A'dmar, nodding his head and offering a crooked smile. He holds his mug of klah in both hands, his long fingers curled around it to soak in the warmth. "Despite it being so shardin' cold here, I'm still more partial to my klah being lukewarm." Which means he'll likely hold onto it and wait until it's dropped a good few degrees before he'll even attempt to drink. "What're you doing here then, A'dmar? I don't think I've bumped into you since… when did I see you last?" The entrance of the Weyrwoman garners his attention, and her announcement - only just overheard - has him looking a little confused. "Did she just…?"

Ah, sweetrolls. Just what Kale forgot! He plucks one from Soriana's tray and lifts it up to her in toast. Hello and thank you! He takes a bite, chewing happily. Ahh, no breakfast (or any meal) is complete without these sweet treats. "Busy," he comments, gesturing with his free hand to the bustling caverns. Unfamiliar faces are usual. People fly in and out all the time, and today is no exception. It's also no exception that he sees Idrissa over yonder, who he waves at. It's also not quite an exception to see the weyrwoman about. She is, after all, the weyrwoman. She must be about her weyr! But, it is quite the exception to see her wobble-beelining towards little old him. And talking to him. And declaring him…her Weyrsecond? He freezes, sweetroll in mouth, eyes wide and staring, cheeks vaguely aflush. Did someone drop a pin? "Wuhf?" This is him, trying to speak around a sweetroll, which he only has the sense enough to pull out of his mouth now. "Uh…what?"

Idrissa picks up a mug and is about to fill it with klah until there is warnings of it being too hot from a few riders ahead of her. She peers over curiously, gaze drifting to see what else can be found to drink. The other choices are things she doesn't want so she waits her turn before moving to get her mug filled with the overly hot klah. Well she is cold so it'll work out first as a hand warmer. She caught sight of Kale and Soriana on her way in so is moving that way. "Hey Kale, Soriana…" She pauses though as she has caught what all was just said from Thea to Kale. Her gaze widens as she looks stunned along with everyone else in the cavern it seems.

The abrupt commotion draws A'dmar's brows a little high, for now the conversation with T'as a little on the sidelines as he bares witness to the act of the woman giving the Weyrsecond knot to some teenager, "She's not normally like that…" at least he'll support that claim for now. A tongue rolls over the front of his teeth as he answers, "I was coming to talk to the Weyrwoman, but it seems she is preoccupied with … raising teenager boys to statuses well above their station." A look over to T'as, canting his head, "Since before … I started a contract with Xanadu. It's been my main priority for the last few months. Good to see you again T'as. How is the shop coming along?" He questions, keeping one eye on the Weyrwoman.

Ly'am glances over to the scene that is happening and gives his friend a nudge, "You all do things different around here, is that kid even a rider?" The bronzerider asks with clear amusement in his gaze. As the harper looks about as shocked as everyone, and the rider starts hearing the comments around the place he can't help but grin all the wider, "I think it is going to be an interesting night."

Soriana is wise in the ways of teenaged breakfast, and she grins to Kale as he steals one off her plate, and starts to wave to Idrissa. It's only a start, though, because when it comes to weaving Weyrwomen with knots… her wisdom fails her. She's got a front row seat, but that doesn't help her in the slightest with making sense of things; nor does her mouthful of sweetroll. At least she's wise enough to not choke. Swallow. "Ahh… Thea…" she says, glancing back and forth between the two. Uhm. "Why don't you have some klah?" Her mug is offered up at the Weyrwoman in the vague hope that maybe it'll do… something?

"I think it has the makings for an interesting entire day, sir," Ph'rys overhears Ly'am and interjects himself into the conversation, despite his normal attempts to keep as low a profile as possible. That's in his clothing, his mannerisms, everything but his somewhat ornate cane. Speaking up he can do; everyone else is talking across the board, after all. "It's been a time since I've been here very long — is she normally like that?" His relatives, at least, seem to be concluding 'no.' That doesn't stop the entire little Ph'leri/Cyrianis clan from watching the exchange that now includes another weyrwoman's child as well. "Maybe they'll make Sorrin's daughter Weyrsecond instead?" suggests the brownriding sister.

"I /thought/ that's what I heard her say." T'as snorts in amusement when A'dmar confirms what he believed to have happened, while shifting out of the way to allow others the chance to get to the klah pot. He doesn't move too far away from the rider he knows, though, allowing their conversation to continue. "The shop's… coming. Slowly. Business, as it turns out, isn't such an easy thing to do." The rider shrugs his slender shoulders, seemingly not too bothered by his lack of corporate capability. "Is that how it normally goes around here? Weyrsecond knots handed out to the likeliest-looking lad?"

Somewhere behind her, there's a chuckle from the (now ex) Weyrsecond from where he's leaning against the wall. She's threatened to fire him before, after all. Thea is ignoring him, lalala. Or to be exact, has forgotten he's there. She flops ungracefully into one of the empty chairs beside poor Kale and produces the knot with a flourish. "I need a Weyrsecond. You'll do nicely." She beams at the smithcrafter apprentice, then Soriana enters her periphery, is blinked at. Klah? "Thanks." The mug is accepted and lifted, the liquid inside it slopping dangerously near the edge as she toasts them. "Th' two of ya make a cute pair. This'll help support th' brood t'come." Definitely sounds tipsy.

In the feeding grounds Seryth has awakened and, unlike many queens, though glowing is in a cheerful mood. The gold glides over the trees with a carolling warble to the browns and bronzes of her Weyr, a welcome to strange ones as well and neatly nabs herself a herdbeast without stirring them up too much. It's a snag and go operation this time, with her landing outside the pen to blood it.

In the feeding grounds Zhaoth stretches his wings as he finishes gobbling down a full meal of one and a half beasts, shaking the snow off his head with a few subtle flicks back and forth, maw opening and closing as a tongue flicks out to lap and clean up the mess dribbling about his muzzle and against teeth.

A'dmar gives a shake of his head in disbelief, "The tug of war of Weyr politics," spoken with a dryness to his voice, choosing not to pursue Thea at this point, considering how she's flopping down on a chair near the boy of her current interests. He side steps the rush to the klah pot, a few steps taken to stick near T'as, as the conversation is decent and at this point, better than he could hope to have with the Weyrwoman. His dark eyes acknowledge the other bronzer, "It's the first Turn of business that will test you. Once you get through it, you'll know if it's for you or not. It took me almost six turns to get the Quoin Post running as smoothly as it is now, even with the fire." He's known to be a successful business man in Ierne, with his transport contracts fluttering not only between Ierne, but throughout the global markets too.

Kale's eyes flit to Idrissa briefly, but's having a difficult time keeping them focused on anything or one else but Thea. And not for his usual reasons. … Well, ok partially for his usual reasons, but also now because of her rather un-Thealike behavior as she takes a seat (or rather, plops into a seat!) beside him. The produced knot is eyed as if it were a knot of worms instead of rope, and a bewildered look is given to the Weyrwoman, wisely not taking the offered item. "..Ma'am?" Apparently he's having a difficult time understanding his own native tongue. "Uh…er, I don't think I'm… I'm…" He pauses, glancing to Soriana in a silent plea for help, then the klah, half wondering if she's been drinking something a tad stronger than that while in her office. And.. brood to come? "Are you feeling alright?"

In the feeding grounds Kiyozuukith might be a guest in the Weyr, but he has no reservations in answering the call put forth by Seryth. The antiqued bronze takes flight towards the pens, his star-dusted wings flaring as he jostles in between potential suitors to snag himself a herdbeast to blood with gentlemanly sophistication. With his maw fixed around the creature's neck as he suckles on its lifeforce, the bronze doesn't take his eyes from the glowing gold, every muscle in him tense, ready to spring skywards for the chase that he knows is coming.

In the feeding grounds Yarovith seems to blend in with the shadows of the ice and snow frosted trees, yet he is betrayed by his eyes, no longer concealing him in on the fringe of the forest as they become more vivid with purple. Cape-like wings extend at once as the gold bloods, lashing the chill of the air with the tips of his wings, sharp snaps charging his ascent higher, just enough to get a good mark on one of the beasts. In a flurry of snow, the darkness of Yarovith's form crashes against an all too ripe beast, devouring into it before he's fully landed upon the snow crusted field, orange blazed muzzle becoming a fiery red in his rapid removal of life from the beast fallen under his talons.

Okay, so Thea has a mug of klah and is sitting down. Now what? Soriana glances back to the (former?) Weyrsecond, who is so not helping, then back to Thea and poor bewildered Kale. "He, uh…" she starts to add, then blinks. The two of them? Oh Faranth, not pseudo-parental matchmaking… wait. She looks to Kale and silently mouthes, "I'm sorry," before looking back to Thea. "We do, I suppose. Young love and all. Isn't it… uh… sweet?" Doesn't she ever so hope it'll distract Thea from the Weyrsecond topic onto one that'll just… well, make them squirm for different reasons?

T'as snorts again, only this time it's not quite as amused. "/Six/ turns? You've got the patience of a… patient thing, to wait /that/ long." He scoffs, shaking his head. The klah mug in his hands is raised slowly to his lips, and he blows on the contents before taking an experimental sip. Nope, still too hot! "I somehow doubt I've got that much patience. /Six turns/? I was more hoping for profit in six /months/…" His tone is exaggerated, as is the roll of his eyes… which suddenly go wide. "Oh, shardit - /now/, Kiyo?" The bronzerider looks to A'dmar, pushing his glasses up his nose and frowning, before quickly setting his klah mug down on the nearest surface. "/That/," as in the thing their dragons are doing, "might explain it, huh?"

Ph'rys, as ever, is trying to keep up with the tides of Weyr gossip, even if this isn't his Weyr: "Are they getting married?" he asks, but it's only his mother who can say no. Sister and father both have sudden things to be distracted by, in terms of their brown and bronze dragons no longer letting them care all that much if a smith and a dragonhealer are engaged. Even if Ph'rys can figure out by the way they look the answer's probably going to be no. "Now, what's —" he starts, and then gets it. And groans. What a way to ruin his nice visit, Seryth.

Idrissa slowly sits down in a seat next to Soriana, well the other one next to Kale is being taken over by a rather strangely acting Thea after all. Her gaze settles back on Kale's an she looks rather unsure about everything that is going on at the moment. A sip is taken from her mug, not that she was about to even attempt or think about enter this conversation but she really can't if she is drinking something. She blinks at the comment of Kale and Soriana being a cute pair and peers at her friends with a raised brow. The 'sorry' from Soriana to Kale is totally missed by her, and she is left coughing rather hard on that sip of klah and half sputtering as it goes down wrong.

Airily, "Never better!" This is Thea's self-assessment, totally biased of course. Soriana's agreement has her head bobbing enthusiastically but her focus - which she's having a hard time maintaining - remains on Kale as she dangles the knot for him to take. She wiggles it a little. "Time's a-wastin'. Need to get you and-" She frowns in a muzzy sort of way before resuming, "What's your dragon's name, eh? I've…" Again she frowns, "forgotten."

A'dmar chortles, a polite laugh that might sound a bit pointed at the other man's inexperience, "Oh trust me, I wasn't waiting around at all. It took me a long time just to save up to take over the mail office they had in Ierne, buying it out, then building the warehouse, training employees, managing to get a radio system developed for the business…" his lips purse, "It wasn't waiting around at all." Hard work that he's proud to boast about. Why shouldn't he be? He's rolling in his own independent glory and wealth now. The man seems to find out exactly what's happening at the same time that T'as is, sharing that knowing look with the other bronzerider, "That would certainly explain it." He decidedly puts down the klah and moves for something to spice it up, asking for a bit of rum, nearly demanding it before one of the kitchen staff find it. Once he has it, he brings it back over and pours some into his klah, offering it to T'as next, "I have no intention of getting mixed up in all this Weyr politics. I'm going to need this strong drink to pull Yarovith out of it."

Despite that he's been here for several turns, Mikal's grumblings of the cold is well known. Bundled up today even though he's not stepped foot outside, he emerges into the caverns to find the source of the wonderful odor he smelled. He stops in the entranceway, perhaps surprised at the number of people here. Kale is seen first so he approaches his friend only to pause again as he sees Thea near him. "What…?" he wonders aloud as he sees a riders knot.

Ilyas comes ambling merrily in from the great outdoors, shedding outer layers with a lazy lack of care for proper placements. They aren't his, anyway (being borrowed, and in a few cases 'borrowed'), so what do wrinkles and irritated housekeeping staff matter to him. While the busy caverns aren't a surprise, even the Hold-bred newcomer can pick up on a Vibe within them, and it makes him sloooowly lift his eyebrows, pausing momentarily before making a foray further in. Mikal is handy, and vaguely familiar, so it's to him that Ilyas turns, asking, cheerfully: "Something goin' on?"

In the feeding grounds, Zhaoth croons back to his gold, though with a full belly it's definitely going to be hard for him to chase. It looks like his eyes are slowly churning to purple however, and being a brown large enough to be a bronze, he has all the desire to chase. The brown makes a truimpet, hearty and vibrant into the cool air, mist pluming out from his open maw as he hurls his voice into the sky.

Ly'am claps the harper on the shoulder and grins, "Well I best be getting out of here before I end up as Head cook here or something." He winks and takes a large drink of the Klah and sets the mug in the Harper's hand, "You may need this." He says before sauntering quickly out of the caverns.

In the feeding grounds, Seryth finishes, the bloodless carcass left without further thought as she leaps into the air - no warning given - and spreads her golden wings to fly. Only rather than pumping them in a downsweep, she wheels and arrows out over the lake. Her merry chortle floats back as it's out there that she begins her ascent, using a thermal to assist, wings flapping to carry her close to the coastal ranges that rim the lake. She's within inches of the peaks where a stormfront is gathering, the rising currents speeding her upwards.

All he wanted was breakfast, and now Kale's faced with an obviously ill Weyrwoman. Something is definitely wrong with Thea, and unlike the riders around that seem to be catching on, he has no link to clue him in to what in the world is truly happening. And so when he looks to Soriana, indeed catching her unspoken words, he can only nod once. They must go about this delicately else risk her…imploding or something. He shall be her knight in shining armor! He does, after a moment of inner turmoil, take that knot, though glances to the current Weyrsecond with a 'I promise I'm not keeping this so no need to kill me' sort of look. "My dragon?" Attention whips back to Thea. "Er…Azrith." His brother won't mind him borrowing the blue's name, now will he? "And I believe, as…your Weyrsecond, that you should lay down." Idrissa's hard coughing doesn't go unnoticed, and he looks to her after. "Are you alright?"

"Politics?" Though the reality of the situation dawns on T'as as soon as the word leaves his lips, and he rubs one of his slender hands across his forehead, then through his floppy dark hair, while waving the other at A'dmar to decline the offer of alcohol. "No, I'm g-" When things on the draconic side of things move on, he has a sudden change of heart and reaches for the rum to chug a hefty mouthful down straight. "Faranth. This isn't /quite/ what I came here for," he admits as he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth, takes another swig, then hands the rum back to A'dmar before turning around to look to the Weyrwoman and waiting for others to make the first move.

Mikal can only offer a weak shrug as the question is posed to him by Ilyas. "I really have no idea." admits the youth. "Seems that Kale there is getting a…um, knot?" that can't be right. Quickly Mikal looks around for someone to explain this. Spying his nemesis/friend he walks over to Soriana. "What's going on?" he asks in a hiss.

The greenrider will not be the one to make that first move, sorry — Ph'rys is paying perfectly decent attention, if not /rapt/ attention, with a grin growing on the corners of his face. But he is not actually being even remotely helpful in terms of speaking up and suggesting that, say, the riders of sizeable males and the goldrider leave the public area. Or even that a teenage boy makes a poor Weyrsecond. He has been given the gift of klah and raises it up to the giver in silent salute before taking a long sip. Yep. It's one of those days.

In the feeding grounds, Kiyozuukith is a heartbeat behind Seryth as she rises, though he's perhaps not quite as fast to keep up with her unexpected turn. Still, he shifts to follow, beating with his powerful wings to veer out across the lake after her, soaring upward in her wake. That there's a storm brewing is nothing to him; instinct has Kiyo focused solely on the glowing gold form before him, and the determination to capture her will drive him on regardless.

The stir among the riders doesn't go entirely unnoticed by Soriana. She is a dragonhealer in training, after all. She does have some faint inkling what sort of level of panic is called for here. And so, while she misses the first bit of what Kale says, she does bring her attention back just in time to shake her head to that suggestion of lying down. "-after you check on Seryth," she says. Y'know? That big shiny gold? That Seryth? She totally ignores Mikal, because oh shells and shards does she have other things to think about.

For lack of a better idea, Ilyas shrugs bonelessly at Mikal's non-explanation, depositing a scarf in haphazard fashion over unoccupied furniture (it's not his scarf, why should he care?) and follows calmly in the younger boy's wake. He's just in time to hear Soriana's suggestion. However, it means all of nothing to him - and meaning all of nothing, his attention drifts. Hey, there might be unattended food at this table…

In the feeding grounds, Yarovith still has the beast in his claws as those great cape-like wings of his flare open upon his rapid leap into the sky to follow the flash of gold, gnawing just for a moment longer on the beast before it is flung aside and left to fall to the earth, creating a crimson crator in the snow. He is but a smear of shadow in the pale mid-morning light, bold against greys of the sky and the whites of the landscape below. Muscles work in unison to batter his sails through the cold whip of the wind, wingspars tipping and wobbling to set him on the precise course behind Seryth. Silence save for the wind howling around his frame is what pursues Seryth from this Ierne bronze, gliding quite easily upwards to avoid those snaggle toothed rocks, pivoting on the currents of the incoming storm to propel him after the ray of sunshine.

Despite having grown up in a weyr, Mikal seems completely oblivious to what may be obvious to the riders here. Not liking being ignored by Soriana he reaches to tug on her sleeve. "Is the Weyrwomen sick?" he asks worriedly and not overly soft in his volume either as he asks.

A'dmar is slowing losing his train of thoughts to the matter of the dragons outside in the wintry wonderland that is currently Xanadu, blinking hard to pick up where he left off, nodding, "Yes. She's the Senior…" and this business man doesn't want to be hooked up with that responsibility. His expression tightens, speaking in some foreign tongue that immediately sounds harsh, even to those who could not understand him. A'dmar seems to be fine with T'as having the rum, he's got enough in his mug to satisfy, chugging down the hot liquid despite the nature of it burning on the way down.

Ice-green eyes stare at the two Kales, trying to merge them into one. Narrowing them helps. And the expression in them has grown a touch suspicious. "Lie… down?" Kale my boy, you sound an awful lot like- "Tha's what he's always sayin' t'me." Thea’s thumb jerks over at poor D'had back there and to prove her independence, she pushes to her feet. The chair topples over backwards and is left to lie as she turns unsteadily away. Oh yes. She spins back around, yoinks the Weyrsecond's knot back with s lopsided grin, "I need this." And she turns to the room once again. Easy come easy go? Now who to promote? Who to…? Her gaze rakes the assembly, she spies Ph'rys, eyeing him speculatively. Hmm. Green knot. She makes her unsteady way towards him, bypassing Ilyas. In the process, her fingers brush the young man’s shoulder as if to grab, maybe try giving him the knot? Or it might merely be an attempt to steady herself. Beware the smile she gives you as she heads your way Ph’rys!

Idrissa has no idea what is going on with the dragons and the riders, hey she isn't from a weyr and the only thing she has close to being a dragon are two firelizards, and they are not telling her anything at the moment. She coughs more as she hears Kale give the name of a dragon and now he is asking her if she is ok. After a few moments she just nods and lifts a hand to rub at her watery eyes a few times. "I'm great." Is whispered out in a sore tone. She isn't sure if she even /wants/ to know what could possible happen next.

In the skies above Xanadu Zhaoth is on the beacon as well, a little slower mind you, his belly full and heavy with meat. There's no feasible way that the brown is going to keep up to the bronzes, but that doesn't mean this fiesty brown isn't going to give it his all. The might of his rider is behind him, the might of their dreams and their ambitions. Okay, maybe not so much, but it's there and with a few heavy swoops of his wings, he's slipping into the air streams that help carry him toward the path of the flight. A jovial sound is made, echoing abruptly into the crisp air of winter.

T'as can keep the rum! And the expression on his face suggests he needs it too. The bronzerider scrubs his knuckles over the unkempt scruff on his cheeks, blinking rapidly in an attempt to retain focus as his connection with his lifemate threatens to take over. There's a battle between the instinct that comes with a flight and the desire to maintain some degree of manners, though the latter is losing out as he downs more of the rum. Bumping his elbow off A'dmar's side, he tilts his head meaningfully towards the Weyrwoman, before asking the fellow Iernian, "D'you reckon we oughta…?"

Suddenly being the center of attention? Not part of Ph'rys' plan. His first action is actually to look over at D'had — help? no? is this woman supposed to be let loose like this? — before he turns his head back up to Thea, slowly, all genteel good grace and a thin smile. "All right there, ma'am?" he asks, extending an arm out in case she /does/ need to be steadied. And isn't going to use the woodsman as a stand, anyway.

Why on Pern would she need to go check on Seryth now? An uncomprehending look is given from Kale to Soriana. What Thea needs to do is go find a healer, and chug down some medicine of sorts that will turn her back into the Thea that he's used to. You know? The one that doesn't randomly sit by him and give him a Weyrsecond's knot. Ah, the poor boy does look sincerely concerned though, and his eyes follow her thumbjerk to D'had. Of course, the Weyrsecond must've used 'lie down' in the situations such as these. "Mm…maybe you should, possibly, liste-.." Or not, for there she goes with a tumbling chair and a snatched knot. Woe, he is Weyrsecond no longer. How the mighty have fallen! (and so quickly, too!) He rises to his feet, though stays rooted where he is as she stumbles off. "Shouldn't someone do something? Doesn't she have a guard or assistant or.. someone?"

In the skies above Xanadu Seryth strains, her forward flight setting a blistering pace as her wide wings beat the ice-cold air. Meeting the front as she soars over the crest of the mountains, is both buffeted by shifting winds and enclosed in thick snowflakes. Curling her head back over her shoulder, she crows. Hurry! Hurry! Good luck catching her! Haha! She's enjoying this!

Ilyas has stolen someone's unguarded sweetroll. If they really wanted it, they wouldn't have left it unattended, right? Right. With FOOD at hand, Thea's passage would go entirely ignored - if it weren't for her fingers on his shoulder, anyway. The young man looks up, expression slightly guilty, with the roll hanging from his mouth. "Mmph?" Crap, is this her roll? Crap crap crap - he drops it into his hand, smiling charmingly. Innocently. Purposefully. "Ma'am?" Ph'rys's approach is watched with mixed hope and trepidation. Distraction? C'mon, be a distraction.

A'dmar closes his eyes tightly, his mouth opening to bear his teeth, shoulders lifting as there is apparently some internal combat going on, between beast and man. His eyes snap open when T'as speaks to him, as if he realized he was still somewhere public and not in his own world somewhere between reality and dragonic lust. His eyes turn to regard where T'as is nudging him, dark eyes finding the Weyrwoman trying to attach herself to a greenrider this time, darting his eyes back to where she left the boy in a pool of confusion. Twisting about, he stamps the mug onto the nearest table, splashing whatever contents are left in it onto the table cloth. His hand lifts to his forehead, only to drag it down his face, some more indistinguishable words are sputtered out. His answer to T'as is a nod as he pivots back around, "Might as well before she goes full goldrider on us…" And who knows what he means by that! He shakes his head, warring with his lifemate outside, eyes flickering between present and absent, here and distant. "THEA…" he interrupts loudly, gruff voice, "Come with us." Us being him and T'as. Yes. A quick glance over to ensure T'as is sticking by him. Wingman? When it comes to dealing with goldriders, every bronzer needs one.

"…or Weyrsecond," mutters Soriana to Kale. Someone like that. As Thea stumbles her way away, Sori glances to Mikal as he insists and shakes her head. "I… don't think so," she says to him, frowning after the quick-promoting Weyrwoman as she makes her way through the crowd. Her look holds concern, and then she sees A'dmar and T'as heading toward the goldrider, and breathes a little sigh of relief. "She'll be okay." Or something like that, anyhow.

In the skies above Xanadu Kiyozuukith beats his wings, the oxidised grey of the membranes as dark a shade as the storm they're flying into. The bronze lets out a challenging roar to a brown that gets too close, veering to the side in an attempt to gain an advantage, while bringing his powerful wings down in a strong beat to drive himself forward, faster, in the hopes ot drawing closer to the glowing prize that Seryth is. That he's being battered by winds and near-blinded by snowflakes is no matter - what could they possibly do to temper his eagerness?

Mikal decides that instead of figuring this out, he'll simply get something to eat and watch from somewhere safe. Where that is he isn't sure but first order of business is getting food so he does that.

Idrissa is able to watch as Thea goes moving off, or well stumbling at least. "What's going on? Is she alright?" This is questioned to Soriana and Kale now that she is able to talk without squeaking, or coughing. She catches sight of a few riders moving towards Thea as well, a faint ah escapes her and she peers to Soriana, her friend knows what is going on, right?

In the skies above Xanadu Yarovith seems to split the air around him as snowflakes scatter in a torrent behind him and underneath in a puff of wing sails, grazing the mountain peaks with his animated shadow, urging wings to pump stronger in the ice gusts that mean to throw him off course. A gale he wasn't anticipating causes him to be thrown far to the right and skyward, so he rolls against the darkening greys of the sky, in attempts to bring himself back into the chase with a heavy swing of his tail and a tuck of a wing against his sides, an audiable snap heard as he extends it back out into the blistering winter currents. Most challenging weather to fly in!

Wingman T'as is right there by A'dmar's side, cutting a slender silhouette that sways as he struggles to keep a clear head for as long as is needed. He lets the other take the lead, as A'dmar clearly knows his way around, though he does reach out with a slender hand towards Thea, offering it to her, palm-up. "Weyrwoman…?" Question, command, whatever it is, it's got a hint of uncertainty behind the attempted assertiveness.
bronze Orionth is Impressed to J'yn.

Thea's lips part to answer Ph'rys, but A'dmar's command forestalls that. She halts, turns her head to give the bronzerider an uncomprehending look. Us? Her green gaze flickers to T'as and back to A'dmar. There’s no recognition in the look and she remains where she is, chin tilting defiantly. "Nah, got bu'ness t' do," she slurs turning back to the greenrider, blinking at Ilyas and the sweetroll for a second there. Huh. People are sharding weird today with the sweetrolls. "You," she tells Ph'rys firmly, "are now Xanadu's Weyrsecond." And she steadies herself by gripping the poor visitor's collar to pin it on herself.

In the skies above Xanadu Zhaoth is meat heavy. He struggles with the winter storm and its frosted wind beating him down. There's nothing he can do to catch up, losing ground with every flap. Even the challenging roar from the bronze near to him seems to veer him off in the wrong direction and causes him to misjudge a mountain peak, having to strain hard with his wings to ascend rather than crash into the peak that grabs with those craggy rocks. Although in the time it takes for him to do that, the fligth for him is lost, somewhere in that spinning world of white. The brown gives a healthy croon before he settles down on the next mountain peak. Maybe if he takes a rest and watches he can spur into the chase at the last minute. Never give up hope, even with a belly ache from flying too quickly after a big meal!

Kale doesn't seem to know the answer to Idrissa's question, even though Soriana seems rather sure she'll be ok. He doesn't seem too convinced, especially with these unknown faces commanding, or half commanding, her to go with them. He bristles a little. That's his Weyrwoman you're barking at there! Drunk or…whatever as she is, she is Xanadu!

Can people /really/ just tell the Weyrwoman what to do like that? Ph'rys is momentarily distracted from his 'save Ilyas' mission to glance over at A'dmar and T'as' boldness. Not that that lasts for longer than about three seconds, because he is being quite forcibly redirected. "Weyrwoman," the greenrider points out, very gently, as he holds stock still in case she stumbles, "I have not lived here in over thirty turns and have a legal practice elsewhere." It's not a no. It's a: what?

The rebuttal of whatever it was he was trying to do, causes A'dmar to cast a glance back over at T'as. What was their option here? Trouse the woman up in a sack and carry her off to the nearest weyr, so that she could have some calming privacy. Yes. His attention swings back to the blithering woman, "Yes. That is why I'm here Thea," A'dmar reaffirms with his tone, which is tight now in this throat, begrudgingly saying it apparently, fighting his presence there, "There is a problem and you are needed to attend to it. I've left what I brought in the wingleader's ready room." Hey, that was better than the Weyrsecond's office, since she's trying to pawn off that role on someone else. "The matter is Urgent Weyrwoman. It needs your attention -now-," he implies the importance with his tone. Listen to him.

"Business?" T'as seems stuck somewhere between disbelief and confusion with Thea's response. He tweaks his glasses to have them settle better in place, fiddling with them a little more than they actually need, while A'dmar takes the lead. He's keen to follow, nodding along with the rouse. "Business. Yes. I… gemstones. For… er, immediate, um, attention?" He doesn't quite have the authoritative tone that the other bronzerider does, but he's at least got his head enough in the room to follow his lead. "/Private/ business," he hastily adds, giving his hand, still stuck out in an offering to the Weyrwoman, a meaningful little wiggle.

Overhead, faint echoes of roars and warbles sound through the rock and by now the widely-broadcast dragonlust might even be felt by those old enough to catch it. Thea is certainly feeling it, though she seems oblivious to the simmering of desire that is reflected in her eyes. One hand makes a vague gesture towards that wall - now empty - where the Weyrsecond had so recently stood. She seems unseeing, uncertain, lost now that she's disposed of that knot. The protest from Ph'rys falls upon deaf ears. "Stoppit!" She snaps at the two bronzeriders, batting at their hands. A'dmar's and T'as' words might as well be gibberish for all the (lack of) comprehension in her eyes "Seryth," she breathes turning towards the cavern entrance and lurching that way. "Need to get to her." And she's wobbling on out towards the forest and the feeding grounds beyond.

Ilyas knows an escape opportunity when he sees one. The moment Thea starts to lurch off, he's shifting the hell out of Dodge, sweetroll clenched between his teeth for safety and another acquired along the way. Kale and Idrissa, stopped, are familiar enough to be plopped near, the woodsman not bothering to acquire permission first. His mouth is full of confectionary, so he settles for just giving the two of them an eyebrow-raised stare. One that turns to… bemused blinking before his eyebrows have even reached halfway into his curly fringe.

In the skies above Xanadu Seryth reaches for the skies, beating her way through the buffeting stormclouds to thinner, cloder air where the snow becomes stinging sleet. Her wings are collecting it and the coat of ice is slowing her down. She's tiring. Still, she eggs them on, dancing with the winds as she wheels and swoops, brushing by some of them and chortling in amusement.

Idrissa watches what is going on looking utterly confused still. A glance is offered to Soriana and Kale, and she catches sight of him doing that bristling move of his. She gives his arm a soft pat to work on getting him to calm down. Though she has to agree that she doesn't like the tone being used at the moment. The roars and warbles are picked up to some degree and she blinks while peering at the walls and then looks towards the caverns entrance. "Oh dear." Is murmured out faintly while she swallows. A faint finger wave is about all that she offers once Ilyas is sitting at the table.

"Unless you want all your weyrfolk to see what happens when a gold dragon is caught in flight, I insist Werywoman," the rouse is causing him to become tempered, and her lack of understanding worse for him, causing A'dmar's teeth to grind, eyes flickering between that distant source that is creating the influx of emotion. The man backs off from her though as she bats her hands at them, proclaiming for them to stop it. His dark eyes flick to T'as first, nodding for the other bronzer to go first. This Ierne bronzer didn't want anything to do with this flight, even if he was caught up in it already. There's a pissed off look given to those who are staring at him, dark eyes seething with annoyance, dark mood for the independence that his lifemate is trying to make him throw away by chasing. But other than that, he follows along behind the staggering woman, pulling his hood up onto his head and his gloves back onto his fingers.

Now officially trapped with the knot because he /literally/ has no way to object, Ph'rys — takes a step out of the fray and picks up his klah with his free hand, leaning against his cane with the other. The exchange between the bronzeriders appears to have everyone's attention, and it does have all of his; as they depart, he slowly lowers himself into a seat. And then puts his head down on the table, forehead first.

In the skies above Xanadu Kiyozuukith braves the elements as best he can, though he, too, is beginning to feel their effects as weariness from the chase sets in. Still, he's determined, he's eager, and he's pushing forth with all he's got, especially so as his senses pick up on the way Seryth is beginning to tire and slow. Drawing upon the last reserves of his endurance, Kiyo pulls up an additional burst of speed, propelling himself forward through the pack of suitors with a powerful downsweep of his dusky wings, claws outstretched in an attempt to capture the prize he's so keen on claiming.

"Insist," T'as echoes A'dmar, pulling his hand back when it's batted at, only to offer it to the Weyrwoman again. He's at least still gentlemanly enough not to drag her off! "They're close," he says with a wince, looking from Thea to A'dmar, then back again. "Weyrwoman Thea, we, er, need to /move/… I don't know where the - where /are/ the groundweyrs here?" The slender bronzerider blinks to the other Iernian rider, then looks past the flight-haze to peer at the Xanadu residents surrounding them, in the hope that one of them might know the way.

Kale's eyes lift to the ceiling overhead a moment, catching remnants of sound making its way through. The touch to his arm turns his attention to Idrissa, and that slightly seething look disipates a little, though when his eyes follow that of Thea, A'dmar, and T'as, it continues to smolder beneath the surface. He surely doesn't follow them though as they make their way out, and he instead sinks back down in his seat, glancing to the seat once occupied by Thea, now occupied by Ilyas. His raised brow look is answered with a headshake and shrug. "I don't think she is ill after all…" Nope. Not with those warbling sounds being heard and that prickling feeling that nips at his skin because of it. At least now he gets it, and fear of the Weyrwoman's death by insanity is no longer a factor.


Xanadu Weyr - Feeding Grounds

A large portion of the eastern edge of the meadow has been fenced off, the corralling on three sides is located on the rolling meadow, while the fourth is located a short way up on the eastern hills. Within the large corral are a variety of beasts - ovines, bovines, and wherries - milling around, though the appearance of a dragon may send them one way or the other to try and escape. A small pond is set near one corner of the enclosure, and at times it reflects the low, bordering mountains.
Just at the forest's edge set under the tree line is a guest weyr for use in mating flights, a simple cottage made of weathered planking and grey stones.

In the skies above Xanadu Yarovith continues to slide between the swirls of snowflakes, his shadowed form dancing darkness through the ascending spray of white. The crust of ice forming on his wings are shattered with jerking motions of his wings, hard beats against the pressing weather. The efforts to keep going were keeping his eyes a vibrant and bright purple, even if there were some strange battles going on with his rider. Man against beast, beast against man. Instinct against the all demanding command to stop before it was too late. The dragon wins though, his mental mind snapping with a scattering of electronic buzz, like crackling fireworks spraying as they burst and descend. The urge to catch was much to strong, rolling his head through the snow one way and the next, the silent beast counters his own body's ache with one final push toward the tiring Seryth. Inky smears of his dark hide appear out of the grey whorls of snow, talons extending for the catch, to ensnare Seryth… What could possibly go wrong?

In the skies above Xanadu Zhaoth doesn't have a chance, so he just bleats his discontent at not being able to finish the chase, slinking down between the mountains to glide back toward the Weyr proper.

In the skies above Xanadu Orionth is still there, or isn't he? If he is he's quite far behind the others, his hide shimmering like a mirage beneath the snowfilled sky. It's clear he's out of the race, was he ever even in it? But yet he still pushes onwards.

In the skies above Xanadu Seryth could go wrong, that's what. The queen is enjoying the game of tag and her last surge of energy is used to whirl on a wingtip and barrel roll back the way she came right through the pack of pursuers. Nevermind that she is not built to execute such tight maneuvers - her friend Siebith taught her this one! And so she does it, but at a cost. She nearly collides with Kiyozuukith, might catch a graze of one of his claws, one wingtip whaps Orionth on the head - sorry dear! - and it is Yarovith that she finds herself smacking into with a yelp. Oops?

Thea has left without any sort of winterwear, dressed for the office, she staggers through the snow, slipping and sliding to get to the place she dimly knows Seryth last was. She's in that surreal haze of Seryth-Thea, half here, mostly up there in the skies. There are at least a half-dozen bronze and brownriders tagging along; someone - or maybe two someone's offering a hand when it looks like the Weyrwoman might fall. Reaching the pens, now empty save for the litter of downed carcasses, she reaches for the rails just as a shriek -Seryth's - echoes afar off in the skies. Thea inhales sharply, eyelids sliding shut. The guest weyr, the only one in sight is at the edge of the forest, yet she doesn't make for it. She moans, fingers loosening their grip on the rails as she sinks down. Not fainting exactly. But definitely not in the here and now.

In the skies above Xanadu Yarovith gets a nasty surprise as Seryth smacks into him, not really in the way that he intended either. The dragon has to do some tricky fiesty motions to get her all tangled in the proper way instead of the improper way! It means they have a little less time than usual in the sky, the altitude having dropped quickly as she clear crashed into him, but eventually the near black bronze with his bolt of fire upon his snout does get to enjoy the fall, like a good dragonic partner should, carrying them safely to the winter landscape below.

In the skies above Xanadu Orionth whirls about as he sees the gold coming towards her pack of pursuers, and, well, he's a big boy and isn't built for maneuvering and so when that wingtip smacks him right on his head, it stuns him momentarily as he bugles his displeasure, he'll be feeling that later no doubt. "Orionth, are ya okay?" Eastern's acting weyrleader rushes onto the scene just as his bronze is making a rough landing. "Ow." He mumbles, can dragons have headaches? Hmm, it could be possible, for sure his rider will be feeling the whap to his head, a hand reaching up to run through his spiky hair.

The Ierne gold was likely the only gold in which Yarovith ever managed to ensnare and that was on a warm beach where clothing really didn't matter - but out here it matters! A'dmar had hung back from the group offering Thea a hand when she went staggering to the feeding grounds, although that changes rather quickly when the chaos above crashes lands Thea's lifemate with his own. His world suddenly flipped on its head as Yarovith doesn't let go. An implusive jolt from the rustling wings up above changes his mood from one end of the spectrum to the other, from miserable and struggling, to concerned and accepting. For now. The snow had concealed his steps during the commotion of the dragons trying for the gold, and in that time he had approached the woman. The other riders were close too, anticipating their lifemates would catch, pushing one another about. Romth wasn't up there and Xe'ter was no where to be seen… that gives everyone, save for A'dmar, the want to be the winner. Of all the irony when it does happen that Yarovith keeps Seryth in his grips. A'dmar's arms instinctively reaching to catch the woman's slumping sinking form, as if they were an extension of his lifemate above, pulling her close before she can faint onto the frozen ground beneath their feet. The scent of her hair in front of his face ignites an emotion in the pit of his mind, sharing the experience and the emotions of his lifemate above as he pulls her close. In the back of his mind however, he knows it would be unsafe for them to stay out here and enjoy the thrills the dragons offer them. Instead, as his eyes find the groundweyr from a look outside of the confines of his hood, he moves to scoop her legs from the ground, turning her in his arms, so that he can carry her that way.

Thea finds herself swept up into someone's arms - who's? She is unaware at this point. It is so like the embrace that Seryth is entwined in high above them and Thea is still so lost in that stronger-than-norm link that she doesn't protest as they enter the guest weyr. Desire - not entirely her own - courses through her and her arms slide around whoever it is, tensing with her own need, mouth seeking his with a smoking passion as she moans low in the back of her throat. Dark lashes lie on pale cheeks, tears glitter just beneath the surface; some remnant of reality lurks knowing there will be hell to pay come later. There always is.

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