Logs:And Everyone's Invited!
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| RL Date: 31 July, 2012 |
| Who: Azaylia, K'del, Brieli, E'gin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A weyrwarming party for Azaylia and Brieli gets a little (a lot) out of hand. Rumors abound, tension is high... and suddenly: dragon mosh pit. |
| Where: Azaylia and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 5, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day. |
| Mentions: Braeden/Mentions, Aughan/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions |
| Azaylia and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr Accessed via a narrow staircase from the Weyrleader's Complex, or from the broad, sunny ledge beyond, this weyr was clearly designed to be for one of the weyr's junior queens. Spacious, but not extravagant, it boasts a well-sized outer room, narrowing in front the well-sized dragon couch and ledge beyond. Much of this main room has been turned over to a couch and several chairs, which circle the hearth and the blue rug set down in front of it. There's a low table here, too, set in the middle of that rug. A tack-cupboard stands tidily behind the couch, keeping out of sight a rider's paraphernalia. Three low steps lead up onto a peculiar little landing, just large enough for the brand new desk and set of shelves that have been placed there. Here, too, there are definite pointers to the lived-in state of the weyr: the desk could in no way be described as tidy. Behind the desk, a narrow passage leads in an inner set of chambers, made up of a sleeping cavern and a private bathing area. A decent-sized bed fills much of the space, the mattress piled high with overstuffed down pillows and comforter. There's a nightstand on either side, and against one of the other walls, a tall, heavy wardrobe made from a dark wood that matches the bed. The bathing area is part of the same cavern, a folding screen shielding the toilet and slightly raised, double-sized bathtub built into the stone, and a small shelf to hold toiletries. Unusually, the walls, ceiling and floor of this weyr have all been whitewashed thickly, covering the natural stone. The hearth is brand new, too, as are most of the built-in fittings, as though they have recently needed to be replaced. Azaylia couldn't have asked for better weather as it seems spring has finally taken a firm hold of High Reaches. Good moods all around, particularly for the hostess and her dragon as they rush from lessons to get themselves and everything ready. The low table in the main cavern is covered with a variety of finger foods, something like a late afternoon lunch. And tea! Cookies, cakes, things that even a small get together simply must have. Some of Hraedhyth's animal skulls have been moved in the process. With so few it seems as if the gold herself hasn't finished moving in, which is for the best as far as guests are concerned. It also seems that Azaylia has brought several of the pillows from her bedroom out to ensure the comfort of those who choose to stop by. Early arrivals will find the weyrling fussing over her dragon, bathed and oiled earlier that day to boast a healthy tawny hide. Azaylia is wearing her old blue dress, rarely utilized these days unless she has the need to feel pretty. It helps with confidence. Right..? Hraedhyth has enough of that to go around, simultaneously watchful and welcoming to those who enter her den. With stairs, there's no need to clutter her ledge. The queen glides down to join those of her tribe who decide to linger, enthusiastic and (overly?) social. Azaylia's approach is far less intruisive, a gentle greeting and wave towards the food. With just a small gathering, the less than social butterfly is still fluttering about the room, making small talk when appropriate. Cadejoth and his rider have been out-weyr for much of the day-- the bronze's return will be visible to anyone outside, with a surprisingly controlled landing upon his own ledge quickly followed by his rider's dismount. When K'del arrives at the party a few minutes later, he's still in formal leathers, looking harried and unhappy. It certainly can't help that a few other guests almost immediately start smirking at him; it's not blushes that they arouse, however, but a hard line of displeasure. Someone's in an excellent mood for a party. It might take Brieli a little while to arrive, despite the fact that she's practically next-door - though she had very little to arrange for the weyrwarming, she still has to take time to make herself presentable post-weyrling-day, and that might take longer than it does for Azaylia. She's fussier, generally. It's not a formally-dressed goldrider that arrives with a little red-wrapped package in hand, though; she's just in one of her little short-skirt and white blouse combos, neat and pretty, hair nearly brushing her shoulders, yay! She doesn't go smirking at the Weyrleader when he arrives, no. She'll just find herself a drink. Surely K'del will stop by? It's a shame he's so terribly busy... Azaylia isn't so oblivious as to ignore the trend of questions, a touch unsettled by them. She still answers, "He is the Weyrleader, after all. It's no suprise the Hold has him so busy..." Startled by the stifled snickers her words produce, the weyrling quietly excuses herself. Speak of the devil! K'del is given a bright smile, though it may shrink at the sight of his face. "Lord Braeden giving you trouble?" It's a concerned greeting, her attention on the bronzerider and not the smirks behind her which turn into grins. Brieli doesn't go unnoticed for long, a glance and smile promising more once she's done welcoming others. K'del is obviously trying very hard to control his expression, and to keep his cool under the weight of all of the derision around him. Azaylia's smile at least gives him something positive to try and focus on, and if his words are stiff and his irritation barely-concealed, at least it's an improvement on what he might aim at someone else. "Lord Braeden and Lord Aughan both. If I find out who started that spreading that damned lie, I'll... sorry, Azaylia. Happy weyrwarming. Got something for you, but it's back in my weyr-- get it sent over later." Some of the weyrling class surges into the weyr, chatting excitedly at the chance to party! On the tail end of the group are a few senior riders who are inquisitive though eager. And, not terribly familiar. As she's sipping her tea, one of the other weyrlings leans over to make a comment to Brieli on the heels of Azaylia's question, but her expression doesn't change much - she just arches her brows as if to say 'really?' Acknowledging the other goldrider with a quick nod and a smile of her own, understanding, she merely glances at K'del, assesses his mood, and decides to remain where she is and fill a plate. Rather than engage her comrade in the gossip she's obviously hoping for, Bri starts talking about the sandwiches. And staying the hell out of the way, thanks. She's not the Weyrleader's favorite person of late. Ever? "Lie?" But then, Azaylia is always the last to know, isn't she? Or perhaps there's been a golden hand in protecting her from even dragon gossip. Dum dee dum. "There's so much nastiness still, I-" Momentarily distracted by a quick hello as a rider passes by, she gives an uncertain but friendly finger wiggle. Uhm. "I try not to listen. And you don't have to worry about giving me anything." Hand finding his, she'll give a tug. "Did they at least give you something to eat while they were ganging up on you?" Playful note may sound like a tease to those unfamiliar with the weyrling. Or to someone already irritable. Certainly she isn't leading K'del to the food just to get closer to Brieli, that's just something of a happy coincidence. Of course. A few of the new entrants give the weyr a curious glance, and one mutters to the other, "Our weyrs never looked anything like this. Guess they save all the really nice stuff for the goldriders. "Hey-- I wonder what the rest of the weyr looks like..." Is anyone going to notice if they start sidling off towards the bedroom? "Lie," confirms K'del, his voice just a little louder than it needs to be, and probably rather more firm. "I have never, and will never, have sexual relationships with Lord Braeden." He doesn't sound like he's lying, but then, when has anyone believed anyone when they don't want to? Azaylia's tug seems to surprise him, and her words seem to dim his expression further, but the Weyrleader doesn't resist, following dutifully towards the collection of food. "I'm fine, Azaylia. It's fine." That's probably because he's seen Brieli; he can't quite seem to muster a proper smile for her. "Teas, cakes... this is a party, right?" Discontent is something no hostess wants, and Azaylia's breathless voice manages to be heard over the faint grumbling. Turns out there's a score of liquor in the cupboard, though it isn't meant to be taken out so early. But, if it'll keep her guests happy... Yes. Happy coincidence. Isn't that great. Even over all the chatter, even her own sandwich inanity, Brieli can hear Azaylia approaching - but her plate is full and she could try to dash off for a seat, but their fellow weyrling has taken the whole sandwich decision to heart, and takes her time. With a roll of her eyes, she tries to nudge the other woman along - just in time to hear that loud declaration. Well, that definitely pauses conversation, and no one's about to contradict the Weyrleader. Not to his face, not like this. So there's some shuffling and coughing as things continue, and maybe there's less smirking. And if the goldrider who's trying to edge her way away from the food table and somewhere else has noticed how K'del isn't loving her presence, well - that's why she's trying to get away. What started as a small get together is growing by the minute, what with envious folk scoping out Azaylia's bedroom, and rowdy senior riders being placated with booze. The gold weyrling is far too busy to notice any of that, let alone deal with it. K'del will be able to feel the way her hand tightens in his, body locking up for only a split second before she manages to push onwards. She'll let him go once they get close enough to the snacks. "O-oh. That lie." Though her face is turned away from him, Brieli and those nearby will catch a glimpse of her strained expression. Is that guilt? Jealousy? Ooh, what what what? "Brieli," A touch desperate, "How're you? How's the food? Anything you suggest K'del try?" Friends. We're all friends here. La la la~. "Yes," says K'del, through gritted teeth. "That lie." He can't, surely, be unaware of the way everyone is suddenly looking at him; nor can he be unaware of his impact on what is supposed to be a lovely gathering. Perhaps that's why he manages, despite his current personal opinions on Brieli, to be (mostly) civil when he says, "Good afternoon, Brieli. Happy weyrwarming. Trust you're well." He's been lurking around the food table, where else would E'gin be? And he's been happy enough to stay out of the way, but then there is a goldrider trying to remove herself from the area and he just might be in the way, or not. Surely they teach goldriders how to extract themselves from crowded-uncomfortable-party situations in their classes. And he'll stand here quietly for the moment, listening to K'del's gritty toothed defense, and Brieli's uncomfortableness, and Azaylia's peacekeeping. "Brieli, K'del." He plops some fruit in his mouth before offering Azaylia his only smile. Is it getting crowded? Though the weyr is obviously that of a junior weyrwoman's, it should still have enough space to house a gathering of friends. But who's that? Did those riders just get back from sweeps? How do you know the weyrlings? There's weyrlings here? The surge in volume and activity it's not terribly out of- when did harpers get here? There's a flicker of something else from Brieli at that expression on Azaylia's face and the thread of desperation in her tone, but it passes too quickly to pin down, though dark eyes seem faintly troubled. Cautiously, to all, "I'm well, thank you. Busy. But we both are. And thank you, K'del. You look nice. Sir." There's that little formality there to keep the distance between them. But gamely, easily as she ever has, "I actually haven't tried any of these yet, but I had a thrilling discussion about them, and the consensus was to avoid the fish." With a grin for E'gin, "Did you eat any yet?" Forced pleasantries are still pleasant, for all that Azaylia is confused by the strain between her friends. She manages to compose herself, words forgotten with a startled squeak as the music suddenly begins. A glance over her shoulder has brown eyes widening, not even ever-social Hraedhyth knows this many dragons. Does she? At least one new face isn't so new, "E'gin!" Cutting through the tension with a few quick steps, she'll hug his arm and regain her smile. It's there when she fans her hand at K'del, "You should eat something." That goes double for her friend, drifting from the brownrider over to Brieli. "Did you invite any of your Fortian friends?" "I make it a habit not to eat fish I didn't cook myself." E'gin answer's Brieli's comment with an easy smile, as he offers one of the other goldrider's arms a squeeze with his free hand. "Nice place, Azaylia. Big." Envious? Only in the correct amount from friend sort of a way. "This is great weather for flying, isn't it? Good time of year to be getting more freedom. Where was the first place you guys visited?" He'll keep the conversation in a safe place, with safe questions. K'del's explanation for his formal leathers is a stiff one: "I've had to attempt to mollify Lord Aughan and Lord Braeden. Didn't have time to change." Exactly where Lord Aughan comes in to the whole equation is less obvious, but the young Weyrleader seems disinclined to explain (or, at least, not without prompting). Azaylia's reminder of the food does send him towards it, at least, and filling a plate with a handful of sandwiches and cookies at least makes him slightly less awkward, and all the better to be able to add to the conversation, "Almost the best time of turn, really. Summer ought to be lovely." There might be a little wince from Brieli at Azaylia's question, and she looks at her plate in hand, then the teacup in her other with a little shrug - when has she gotten the chance to sit down? Even though answering within K'del's earshot might make her a touch uncomfortable, she insists quietly, "Don't make it sound like I socialize over there or something. Friend. One. I haven't met anyone else. And I wasn't sure if it was a good idea." Definitely not, today. E'gin's wisdom gets a grin. "Seems wise. The fish, I mean." She might forget to add on where she's been in the wake of the Weyrleader's explanation; though fine brows arch, she merely says, "Ah," and finds somewhere to sit in the chaos. A defensive huff for K'del's sake, "Don't see why Lord Braeden is so upset, it's not like- Uhmn." Hm, indeed. She needs something to stuff into her mouth now. A cookie to nibble on, though she may be following some riders examples in the search for something stronger, soon. There's a nod of agreement with E'gin's sentiments, "Thank you. And, I've been down to the Hold a lot myself. To uhm... see the orchids bloom." It could just be the unexpected intensity of the party that unnerves her, though Brieli's words don't help. "Oh I didn't mean... It might have been nice?" She'll offer as the weyrling finds a place to sit amongst the stomping and hooting. There are drums. Hraedhyth may have had a paw in that. "Weyrleader's duties never end, hmm?" E'gin offers in way of consolation for K'del's current 'perdicament', though he does offer a small lopsided grin to the other male. Brieli's comments receive a raised eyebrow, which he quickly pulls back to height with the other, and wisely says nothing. He's on a roll. As the two girls make their way to seat, the brownrider bows out of the gathering. "If you ladies will excuse me, I have sweeps." A nod to K'del. "Weyrleader." The word is stated, perhaps, more firmly than he intended, though it could be easily over looked, and with another flash of a smile he exits. No mortal instrument will ever compete with the hearty thumping of Hraedhyth, the gold all too happy to match Azaylia's quickened heartbeat and the party's growing energy. She's enjoying her guests, a rather sizable collection of dragons littering the ground beneath her ledge. Azaylia should do the same- in fact, they all should. She stokes their fires with a clumsy swipe; they should be enjoying themselves. This is supposed to be FUN. Golden influence unpracticed at best, she's betting more on the ominous rumble within her mind if their riders don't listen. (Hraedhyth to Vysravth, Cadejoth, and Iesaryth) "Heard about your... friend," remarks K'del, idly, in Brieli's direction. The two women may have sought out seats, but the Weyrleader continues to stand, as if uneasy, nervous energy makes it impossible for him to actually sit that still. "But at least he's started announcing himself. As we all will, should we have reason to visit Fort." Though his tone makes it sound as though he can't imagine why anyone would want to. To Azaylia, "Lord Braeden's reputation has been maligned. As an unmarried, young Lord, he can't afford such rumours; it weakens his position. Especially at the moment. It's foul, frankly, whatever a person thinks about me." Beat. "E'gin." That's formal, too, though he doesn't pause long enough to watch the brownrider depart. To Hraedhyth and Iesaryth, Cadejoth has a clang and rattle to add to Hraedhyth's cacophony, and if his exuberance is not up to usual levels, he is, at least, trying to be friendly. « He's sorry, » he reports back, presumably talking about his rider; he shares a flurry of images - Lord Braeden, Lord Aughan, and a dark-haired beauty their riders might recognise as Aughan's niece (and presumed heir) Yuliye. It's complicated, somehow, and tinged with faint, not-entirely-concealed disgust. And then there's Iolene, and his own mate. « He's trying. We're trying. » After sitting, juggling plate and cup, Brieli drains her tea - and glances over to a passing rider with a bottle, waving them over for a refill. Well, a fill in this case, but whatever. After favoring him with a lovely smile for it, she's back to Azaylia, fortified. She'll even give over the teacup to the other goldrider after a sip, though who knows what's in it. Sandwich in hand, she starts to reassure, "Don't worry. It's just--" But then, there's K'del, and the way he says friend - and she has to make an effort not to look all that uncomfortable. Pleasantly, "Well, at least everyone is now aware that they ought to. And I suppose we might have to." As idly, "Iesaryth has Elaruth's leave." She waves to E'gin with a smile as he leaves, glances between the Weyrleader and weyrling. "Well, it's just gossip, vicious or no. Unless there's any truth to it, it should curl up and die." She bites into her sandwich, as if to emphazise the point. To Hraedhyth and Cadejoth, Iesaryth's party mode is still pretty laid back at best; she's perched on the edge of her ledge to be part of the festivities, but not too close so as to get into the wrestling, should her sister be so seized with the spirit. There is sympathy in the rhythm of the ocean for the bronze, some attempt at soothing as well; and for Hraedhyth, apologetically, « Things are as they are. But she is doing better. » At least, she's making an effort! When E'gin leaves, there's a farewell that sounds a little sad. No, don't go! Azaylia actually knows who you are, which can't be said for the majority of bodies meshing within her weyr. Some have little urge to fight Hraedhyth's nudge, some revel in it. "I don't think it should matter, if Lord Braeden is a certain way." A blink, and she drowns the certainty in her voice with what's left in Brieli's offered cup. Another rider passes, and the only smile she offers is an apologetic one as the weyrling plucks the mystery bottle from his hands. Refill for her friend, her attention is torn between pouring and the other two. "Hraedhyth, too." Or that's how the gold will tell it. The bottle is offered to K'del with a smile that comes easier thanks to whatever's inside, giving it a little shake his way. To Iesaryth and Cadejoth, Hraedhyth mentally shoves at the other dragons, though it's a joyous thing, echoing her actions beneath the ledge. Her drums have become something mad and wonderful, amplifying the music pouring out of their weyr. Hide on hide, the dragonet's actions might be worrisome if not for the gold's youth. ...Cadejoth might still disapprove. But it's FUN. Bodies thudding solidly, headbutting, grinding and shoulder-checking. Nothing too rough, if only because the music can't fuel her fast enough to do any real damage. This is the kind of fun the riders should be having! "He needs to marry and have heirs," is K'del's prompt explanation to Azaylia's remark. "It's his duty. It's... the timing is poor." His lips are thin, but he's still attempting to smile; attempting, too, not to study Brieli's reaction to his earlier words. "Glad to hear it," he says of their invitation to Fort. "Nonetheless, you'll announce yourselves when you go. It's polite. They may not respect me, but I'll not have you tarred with that brush." He rejects Azaylia's offer of the bottle with a shake of the head, aiming, instead, to take a bite of one of his sandwiches. Taking the refilled cup with a little tilt of it - cheers - Brieli offers a wistful little smile for Azaylia's idealism, so quickly followed by brutal reality. "It's a nice thought," she adds quietly. "But he's right." See, K'del doesn't always make her contrary and uncomfortable. Just sometimes. After a sip from her teacup of liquor and a bite from her pretty little sandwich, she promises, "We'll announce ourselves. I mean, I know Azaylia will. We will too." A pause before, "I'm sorry that there seems to be - a lot happening." It does seem sincere. To Hraedhyth and Iesaryth, Cadejoth won't partake in the shoving, but he'll watch: proud father, perhaps, hovering over his offspring (and others) from above. Go, go, go~~ Which doesn't mean that he doesn't have a protective eye over them, watching for potential issues, and more than willing to jump in should he be required, but still. For now, he offers only his own music, adding to his daughter's beat. This is not Iesaryth's thing, but she will watch from her ledge, entertained, quick to notice who is there and what they are doing and who takes offense and leaves and stays and on and on. Bright fish-thoughts under the waves, constant. (Iesaryth to Hraedhyth and Cadejoth) The bottle won't be going to waste, even if it gives a sad little wiggle as K'del declines. Awww, drink me! Instead Azaylia brings it to her lips for a gagging mouthful, her goal leaving no room to be picky about taste. This time she thinks before she speaks, for as much good as it might do. "I don't think it's fair." She'll leave it at that, fingers plucking a cookie from Brieli's plate. "Of course." Eyes wide, surprised at K'del's need to say anything. "It's not like Hraedhyth could be sneaky even if she tried." Her expression is a nice cover for the fact that Brieli startles her too. She's not slow to chime in, "Things will work out in the end. We just have to do our best, and... uhm. Eggs!" A squeaky conversation saver. "There'll be eggs soon. And baby dragons." Hopefully with less mauling. There's no ill will for the two who choose to sit out. How could there be, with such festivities? Hraedhyth is hardly lonely, though her antics may have some dragons move away, there's plenty who are all too eager to rub shoulders with a queen. Literally. Not that she minds, sharing her pleasure at being surrounded by her people with all who will accept. Tonight, she's just another dragon in a growing sea of colors, so much like Iesaryth's fish. (Hraedhyth to Iesaryth and Cadejoth) If K'del is surprised with Brieli's remark, it shows for only a second before his expression returns to a more carefully neutral one. "Maybe it isn't," he agrees. "Just kind of the way it is. Be glad you're not a Lady Holder, I guess." His nod is approving for the confirmations of both goldriders; he even chances a small, if tired smile. "Know you will. Good. And-- yes, eggs. That'll make all the difference, I think. Things'll settle down again, get better. They always do." Eventually. "Now... what're your classes, at the moment? Or should I let you mingle with your, uh, guests?" Probably not including the ones who've disappeared into the bedroom. Or is it the little bathing chamber, by now? "What's fair?" Brieli asks, with a little shrug. There's a moment where she looks as if she could say something else, but settles on, "Lots of things aren't. The fact that any cookie that I make will be burned is not fair, but it is what it is." She's found her own cookie through all of this, pops it in her mouth now. The idea of Hraedhyth being sneaky - or something else about sneakiness - seems to amuse her, before; "That does have the tendency to improve the general mood, yes?" As K'del confirms it, she nods slowly, offers her own slight smile. If the surprise around her is registering, she doesn't show it. The Weyrleader's question gives her cause to look around, bemused, "How many people here do you know, Azaylia?" "I'M fair." Azaylia says with whiskey-soaked bravado, sounding close to sticking her tongue out at Brieli. Usually a champion of tradition, the weyrling lets the subject of who Braeden is allowed to sleep with die. "Wouldn't it be funny if there was another gold?" So casually said, though the smile is too wide for her words to be anything but a tease for poor K'del. FIVE Weyrwomen. Imagine it. It takes her a moment to find her feet, standing a touch straighter as a hand reaches for the Weyrleader's arm. Dramatic, she looks over at Brieli. "I have no idea who most of these people are." She declares, sounding like some great heroine faced with adversity. "But," A sip of the bottle. "Some of them have cute butts. So I'm gonna change that." And get to know some of them, and perhaps know one. Or twelve. A big smooch for K'del's cheek which is sure to add to the gossip, and even more so the one she plants on Brieli. "Have some fun, you two." No slurring, and the nervous quirk to her smile may have one wondering if it's the whiskey which has her acting so bold. Ooh, dancing! Brieli might just look a little concerned in Azaylia's wake, post-smooch - but she says nothing more than, "I hope Hraedhyth has some concept of closing time." She'll scan the crowd for another moment or two before she has to return to the Weyrleader, with a wry little smile. "I suppose it's her weyr, her party and she's older than I am besides. I shouldn't worry." She'll rise though, to find a place for her empty plate and soon-to-be empty teacup, and - with a wrinkle of her nose; "It's possible I should mingle, given I've been made part of this. I imagine you'd like an excuse to leave besides?" K'del looks faintly almost ill at the idea of a whole five weyrwomen-- and that shades rather rapidly into confusion when Azaylia kisses him like that, for all that a moment later he's smiling and looking amused. "Have-- fun?" Brieli's remarks draw a more rueful smile once he's left alone with her, and his nod is a careful one. "Worst that'll happen is she'll have a hangover tomorrow, right? It'll be-- fine. I-- yeah. Wouldn't mind being able to get changed, try and wind down." One hand runs through his hair. "Guess I'm not terribly good company. Enjoy yourself, Brieli." With a shrug, "These things happen. Try to have a good night. Hopefully people will clear out before bedtime." Brieli doesn't look too certain of that, but she's hopeful! She'll nod her thanks and offer K'del a little wave of farewell as she wanders off towards the food table - and perhaps towards a place where she can see what Azaylia's gotten up to in the last few minutes. It's hard to tell whether their concern for Azaylia is well placed, so early into the evening. Hraedhyth has no intentions of stopping, and when she does it's a sudden collapse of happy exhaustion. She's one of the last and the moments before she's completely unconscious are smug, nestled within a pile of spent dragon bodies. Mmm. Her weyrling is far more selective, and if anything does happen... well there's far too many dragons left over to pinpoint any rider in particular. By morning, the lingering bodies (dragon and rider) are politely shooed from the weyr, and Azaylia manages to get to class. Frazzled, looking vaguely sick, but... on time. |
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