Logs:Of Surprising Finds
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| RL Date: 6 November, 2006 |
| Who: Charis, Dassah, Imariel, M'wen, Melata, R'hin, Rilsa, Satiet, Shalyn, Shanlee, Tavrie, Wilf |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| Where: Numbweed Fields, Nerat |
| When: Day 28, Month 9, Turn 9 (Interval 10) |
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| Your location's current time: 16:17 on day 28, month 9, Turn 59, of the Tenth Pass. It is a autumn afternoon. Numbweed "Fields" south of Nerat Hold(#420RJs) The numbweed "fields", just outside the tail end of the Northern Continent, reside as far south of Nerat Hold as possible without crossing the waters to the Southern Continent. The jungle areas to the north of the beach clearing are filled with thorny, plaquey, grey-green bushes with opposing, arrowhead-shaped leaves. The bushes sprout colorful bracts of flowers similar to the statice. There are small paths leading through various openings of the jungles, providing a way for the harvesters to get the much needed numbweed. The clearing used by the harvesters is off of the waters between the Northern and Southern continents. The large area is divided into four sections: the stewing area which has fires burning under large pots to stew the numbweed, the straining and potting area, the food area which has bakers and cooks working to feed the workers and finally the sleep area to accomodate the workers who spend nearly a sevenday working on this precious job. Unfortunately, the organized setup and pleasant sleeping and dining areas are not enough to offset the terrible stench of the boiling numbweed as it seems to permeate everything. Contents: Wilf Imariel Satiet Obvious exits: Clearing "M'am, I never said anything about removing age old duties," Imariel says, a bit of an edge to her voice at the condescending manner in which Satiet addresses her. "And, I also never said no one else ever thought of the future. You asked me for my ideas, and I told you. If you don't really want to hear an answer, then why ask?" She sighs. "I was only -- Oh, never mind. Obviously, I'm not going to satisfy anyone with anything I ever say." She shakes her head. "Perhaps it would be best if Candidates merely stop thinking and just follow orders." Immie nods to Leila, indicating her bag is filled enough. "C'mon, Leila, we're done here, I think." She pauses to pick up her own bag, and follow, a frown creasing her forehead. "I'm sorry, Weyrwoman, if my answer offended you," she says, but the tone doesn't really sound too contrite. "Your answers didn't offend me. Your delivery did, candidate," comes Satiet's cool response, her ivory face remaining distant throughout Imariel's impassioned speech. "You haven't lived at the Weyr for even a month and your condescension of me and the place I've learned to call home rankles. Perhaps, before you speak, you should learn to think and deliver your opinions in a less abrasive manner." Which is just rich coming from her, and if Satiet recognizes the irony of her advice, it only betrays itself in a knowing glint in her pale gaze. "Teonath tells me the hunters are back, the roasts are being spitted and there's some stew for us workers to tide us over until the beast is tender." This, while spoken with a keen eye to the two candidates she was picking numbweed leaves with, is directed to all who have gathered again with sacks full. "There'll be drink as well, if you all promise not to get drunk." That said, the slender woman begins to make her way back, expectant that the others will follow, and then slowing down, as she did on their trek in, to join the middle of the group out to the beaches. Tavrie has arrived. R'hin's timing is auspiciously excellent; the cinnamon bronze appears from between above the Nerat skies, gliding towards the beach with a low, bassy rumble of greeting to the High Reaches dragons thereabouts. The Weyrleader reaches the ground, just as the smells of cooked meat begin to drift across the field, and he breathes in deeply, stowing his riding gear in Leiventh's saddlebags. With a quirk of lips, he slaps a hand to Leiventh's side and steps away, just as the bronze springs up again, circling upwards, settling into a watchful, easy pattern in the Nerat skies. R'hin cants his head upwards, amused, as he strides over towards the cooks, calling out a cheerful greeting. "M'am, I was not condescending toward either you nor the weyr," Imariel begins to protest, then simply gives up. "Very well, m'am, I will give my delivery some thought," she says, and the words are cool. Very cool. And there's a closed mask on the girl's face as she walks back to where she arrived. Her only other comment it a quiet, "I don't drink alcohol, m'am." And then nothing more. That Satiet doesn't bother to give Imariel another glance is her own form of closure on the subject and on the candidate's existence. The candidate group makes it out of the clearing alive, more or less, with only a few minor mishaps of those forgetting about numbweed on their gloves and touching their face. One boy, in particular, has a lopsided smile, where one corner just won't pull up. One by one, Satiet included, they return their satchels to the healers who whisk them off towards the other area to begin prepping for tomorrow's brewing, and with a roll of her shoulders back, the weyrwoman observes the on-goings of those gathered. The smell of roasting meat and vegetables is a welcome one for those that have been working hard. Tavrie has found a way to help out here and there, unable to stand by and watch. The young woman is helping a rotund woman to baste some of the meat with a sweet and tangy smelling sauce that smokes pleasantly once they are set to cooking. The pair of women share similar facial features including a powdering of soft freckles and pert noses. "Auntie, your work is excellent as ever," Tavrie compliments before she's shooed away. "Enough with your flattery, girl. You've thinned down but I'm not givin' yah any hand outs!" the older ones chides. Tavrie smiles and then, wiping her hands on her over-skirt, wanders off to see who else is around. When she relinquishes her sack to the healers, Imariel strips off the gloves and sets them back where they belong. Then, she moves to a basin of water someone has setup for washing. With clean hands and face, she finds a place to sit for a few minutes, to rest. Leila goes and finds some friends. After a few minutes of resting, Immie rises and heads over to the cooks, offering to help there. At least cooking is something she knows and understands well. Donning an apron, she pitches in to help where she can. R'hin has managed to secure himself the position of taste tester - or more likely been roped into it, through appearance of nothing better to do. He accepts the proffered slice of roasted meat, chewing carefully before nodding his approval to the cooks. He moves back to watch as they expertly cut up the roasted meats, piling them onto large platters. Serving tables have been set up to one side, filled with a variety of vegetables, breads and cheeses to go along with the meal. He glances upwards at some silent signal from the circling bronze, then towards the group emerging from the jungles, eyes roving over the candidates and their escorts alike with a curl of lips. Unenchanted by the smell of cooking food as the others might be, Satiet instead begins a quiet conversation with one of her closer known friends, a brownrider by the name of Joilin. The much taller blonde has to bend her head at various points to keep up with the conversation, and after a while, a decidedly un-Satiet-like laughter floats merrily into the air. Leisure hangs over her shoulders as the pair begin a slow walk about makeshift camp, their path unerringly headed for food - Joilin's doing, really. Tavrie picks up the pace, hustling along with a bustle of her long skirts. With her hands clasped together behind her back, she sidles up behind R'hin as he escapes from the meat tasting. "What do you think, sir?" she queries, slipping alongside him and canting her head in a curious and manner. Mischief plays on her youthful face and her grin doesn't speak comforting thoughts. "My auntie made the sauce that is going on much of the bovine and some of the other game. Sweetener, berries and tuber, who would have thought?" she asks. R'hin has yet to get to the food; he's striding past the cooks, stopping to have quiet words with any of the candidates that have gravitated there. Imariel is one such, and he notes in a dry, quiet murmur, "You do realize this is a dinner for -you-? You shouldn't be cooking it; that defeats the whole purpose. Go, eat." He even makes a shooing motion with his hand to reinforce the comment. Tavrie is given a grin at her query, "Tasty," he replies, "Somehow, meat cooked in an open fire just tastes so much better. Ah, did she? I'll trust that they're good, then." It's statement, but there's almost a query in there, too. Imariel works because it's better than simply sitting idle. She integrates herself easily with the cooks, most of whom she already has met. There's a smile on her face after only a few minutes, and she's in the midst of putting a bowl of roasted tubers on a table when the Weyrleader stops her. "It's all right, sir, really," she says, offering a shrugs. "I'll eat in a few minutes. I'm not really hungry right now. I still have the smell of numbweed plants in my nose." And she wrinkles it a little for emphasis as she turns to fetch another bowl of vegetables. The sweat beading along Satiet's forehead glistens in the waning sun, afternoon giving way to the beginnings of a rose-golden sunset across the western shoreline. Chum-like, her hand is threaded through Joilin's arm, as the two girls casually make a path towards the tables being set. Closer, what little of their conversation that can be heard proves to be much in the variety of 'girl talk': Talks of this girls hair, what another is wearing, and the smug satisfaction of looking dubiously better than the other workers here. But soon, that lapses into quiet companionship, the more people that mill about, and with an ease to her step, Satiet departs the company of her friend to come up by the trio gathered, addressing R'hin first with dry accusation: "A coincidence meeting you here of all places, and at this time too." Tavrie bobs her head in an almost avian manner, enthusiasm bubbling over with the festive nature of the gathering. "She is truly brilliant with such mixtures," Tavrie begins, affirming her previous claim and beaming. "My aunt roped me into helping. She was in a real titter when all the candidates were going out to help with the numbweed and yet there would be so much to do. I agreed to lend her a hand where and when I could. But now, I'm going to go chat and try things myself," she explains. This said she, the pint sized woman tosses him a playful salute and turns her attention to Imariel. "If you still spell the stuff, perhaps a drink to clear your mouth? One of the sweet fruit juices might do the trick?" she offers hopefully, brows lifted curiously. Satiet's appearance garners a little smirk, though Tavrie doesn't say anything to the weyrwoman just yet. "Hm. Stubborn." It's hard to tell whether that comment of R'hin's is accusation or merely observation of Imariel's response. "I'll make a point of trying them," he tells Tavrie with an easy smile, the salute earning a deep chuckle, though he doesn't return it in kind. While Tavrie and Imariel chat, pale eyes slide over and take note of the approaching weyrwoman with a twitch of lips. "Leiventh," the Weyrleader says, with a motion to the bronze circling above the beach, "Wanted to keep an eye on those of his Weyr. It is difficult to gainsay a determined dragon, wouldn't you say, lady of the spires?" Imariel chuckles and then nods to Tavrie. "I'll try that," she says, setting out loaves of fresh bread. She unties the apron and grins to the other girl. It's only when Satiet approaches that Imariel immediately nods politely and turns away to find something to eat, a murmured, "Excuse me," to everyone as she heads over to take part in the feast. "Mmm, and what an -honor- you grant us with the privilege of your presence." Satiet, giving no sign of noticing Imariel's reaction or departure, instead cuts a quick look to Tavrie and her enthusiastic self with just the slightest knit to her brow line. "You provide such an example for us to live by, sir. The food is such an attraction," but her piece said, sly mocking and all, the Weyrleader is finally gifted with the most charming of smiles and a toss of her hair as the goldrider moves to garner herself a mug of mulled wine. "The work of the cooks agrees with you?" The question isn't directed at anyone particular, and could be mistaken for just about anyone in the weyrwoman's proximity. Tavrie smiles warmly at Imariel and nods encouragingly. This look of stupid satisfaction disappears in a heartbeat, only to be replaced by one of puzzlement. Brown eyes glance from Satiet to the departing Imariel and Tavrie shrugs faintly, apparently lost. The young woman furrows her brows and purses her lips unhappily. "R'hin, sir, why do you call her 'the lady of the spires'?" the curious blonde quizzes him before shifting an accusatory and rather questioning look at Satiet that slowly trails to the departed candidate. Low, chuckled laughter escapes R'hin's throat, pale eyes glittering as he regards Satiet, "More -honor- to accompany me, weyrwoman. Would you care to, or would it be too much?" He holds an arm out, expectantly, eyes following her. "Do you not think it an apt title?" he queries Tavrie with a sidelong look, gesturing towards the goldrider. "She is, unarguably, a -Lady-," a faint emphasis gives a capital to the word, and a hint of something like insult, perhaps, with it, "And she is of the seven spires." He notes Imariel's departure with a tip of head, and takes a step in that direction himself, murmuring, "I believe it's about time to taste test the food, to be sure." M'wen has arrived. Imariel has found a place over near some of the other candidates, settling in to eat her selected dinner amongst those who spent the day harvesting. Even so, her eyes flicker between the others present, although she keeps her distance from both the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman at his side. There's some laughter at the young man whose grin remains lopsided, good-natured teasing for not being careful with the numbweed-soaked gloves. There's not a lot of ribbing, though from Imariel. Able to hear the conversation, though she's a few steps away, Satiet returns shortly with three mugs, one of mulled wine for herself balanced in the crook of her elbow, and the other two held out, one marginally less so as her arm clings to that third mug, to Tavrie and R'hin. "Your flattery will get you absolutely nowhere, sir." However, she doesn't deny the arm, once her hands are free to, accepting it with a light, gracious touch of her own. The unmistakenable accusation of Tavrie's eyes draws out a smug little smirk on the goldrider's lips, and quickly, pale eyes follow the blonde candidates to the seated one. For R'hin's words, the insult noted, earns the bronzerider a snort. Tavrie's naturally perky and likely often annoying persona wilts momentarily as the amount of tension and counterfeit suavity in the area swells to an icy state. The young woman gives a little shiver and then the smile returns like sun again. "Ahh, my thanks, lady," Tavrie offers, accepting the mug and matching Satiet's own smug look for a moment. "I see that indeed, the stories don't hold true as to the nature of your relationship," she says to both riders with a playful wrinkle of her freckled nose. "What a pleasure to share the evening with so many cheerful people," she notes before bursting into a fit of giggles that she promptly quells with a small hand. R'hin accepts the offered glass of wine with a tip of head in thanks; the idea of being waited on by the weyrwoman taken with agreeable aplomb. "It did, however, get me wine, and should it work every time I tried it, I would be a happy man, indeed." There's a satisfactory glitter to pale eyes as Satiet places her hand on his arm, light or not. Tavrie's comment, however, draws the Weyrleader's attention with a twitch of brows, curiousity sparking the bland question, "And what do -they- say is the nature of our... relationship?" Once she's finished eating, Imariel finds a quiet place to just sit and relax. She's not much for the social bit, apparently. But, she enjoys the sound of laughter and occasional chats with those who drop by for a few minutes. Otherwise, she's simply an observer. Rilsa wanders out from the surrounding area outside the weyr. Rilsa has arrived. Satiet also stills at Tavrie's words, turning a dry look towards the girl and while instinct causes her arm to tense to move away, somehow it manages to relax and slip more comfortably about the bronzerider's arm. The makeshift tables are being set for some dinner, the healers still preoccupied with counting the bushels of numbweed leaves for brewing tomorrow, and many candidates and harvest workers are milling about as they wait for the roasts to finish cooking on their spits. Rilsa approaches the main group after her informal meetings with the various groups to see how the harvest has gone, how the counts are coming along and if there any unforseen issues prior to the brewing process. "Things are looking positive so far." She says to no one in particular as she pauses, to look almost longingly at the food. Belatedly, but better late then never, a somewhat familiar brown dragon wings down from the sky, movements silent, not alerting any to his presense until the pair is nearly upon the group. Sliding down the dragons side, taking off helmet and jacket, M'wen looks a bit haggard, but gives a brief wave to the assembled before striding forward to the group quickly. Giving a brief salute to the bronzerider, he turns to Tavrie and gives a brief smile, though remaining silent for the time being. Tavrie sips her wine and flutters her eyelashes in a mock-coy manner. "Oh well, you know, it is quite obvious that your relationship is akin to a feline and a canine having to work the same grounds for handouts and trying to remain diplomatic," she surmises. "Though, there is also a certain light in your eyes, Weyrleader," she addresses him more directly and smiles her sweetest as she drops her gaze to where Satiet has her arm around his. A snicker begins to form across the girl's sumptuous lips but it is wiped clear before it ever truly settles, replaced by a more heartfelt smile and a glint comes to her klah colored eyes. "M'wen," she greets the incoming rider by name. A faint twitch at the corner of R'hin's lips suggests he's not unaware of Satiet's brief tenseness, and apparently amused by it, studies Tavrie thoughtfully. "A light?" he echoes, with dry amusement, casting a glance at Satiet that can only be classed as somewhat quizzical. M'wen's salute is one he returns, the gesture sharp and immediate, "Been busy, M'wen?" Rilsa's arrival is noted with a nod, though he doesn't respond to her offhand comment. Leiventh's form circles above the gathering on the beach, the bronze a silent, watchful shadow above, occasionally rumbling greetings to incoming arrivals. The smell of the roasting meat is too much of a temptation, and Immie is still slightly hungry. So, after a few minutes of resting, she stands up and makes her way back over to the food tables. Nods are offered to those gathered, and quiet murmurs of greeting. Nothing overt, nothing controversial. Just a candidate who looks a bit tired, now, and hungry. She pads over the sand, footsteps probably lost amidst the chatting people. Someone offers her a wineskin, which is politely refused. Meat and cheese is chosen, and she leans against a tree to eat and watch, eyes taking in the new arrivals as they seem to be gathering around the Weyrleader, Weyrwoman, the drink and the food. Pale eyes just watch Tavrie, the dryness giving way to askance, and a look is slanted R'hin by her side. The arm tightens just a fraction before the goldrider relinquishes it, patting it with mocking affection. "Of course he has a light. He has a light on to any woman he might con with his charm." With a smile just as sweet for Tavrie, Satiet turns a moment, spies out Rilsa, and gives finger wiggles as she makes her way over, snagging another mug of mulled wine as she approaches the Weyrsecond. "Evening," her cool voice intrudes on the brownrider's space, continuing into a pleasantly worded query accompanied by the mug held out obligingly, "Things are looking bright for our infirmary stores?" "The counters are calling it a record harvest." Rilsa responds, giving Satiet a pleasant smile and a nod of greeting. Her eyes scan the area, settling on several individuals for a mere moment before returning to look at the junior with an added smirk. "Which means tomorrow's brewing is going to be horrendously foul. Ah." "Lovely-," is Satiet's quick, very dry response, the second mug of mulled wine she carries still being held out towards the brownrider. "Something to tide you over until the food's done, which it might be soon." The final touches seem to be being made to the roasts and a test slice is carved off that soon turns into slivers of the ruddy-glazed meat being sliced into awaiting serving plates. "I'm sure everyone's looking forward to the stench. I half wonder, every time we do this, if the smell doesn't cause numbweed plants to die off, but I suppose if we've a record harvest this year, my theories hold little truth." Rilsa chuckles, reaching out to take the offered mug with a grateful smile. "My thanks. It's much appreciated." Turning her head to observe the final preparations, she comments. "That's one of the nicer reasons to do this ... the beachfront type meals before the ... horrors ... start." With a chuckle, she turns back and responds. "Perhaps we're getting better at harvesting. Some of these candidates are rather petite and are getting into spaces that folks normally don't wander. Or the smell is what makes them grow." "Tavrie," M'wen responds giving a small smirk to R'hin as the weyrwoman leaves him hanging alone. "I hope this day finds you well?" Glancing about at all the food strewn about, a pained look crosses his face, as he mutters softly to himself, "Probably wasn't a good idea to eat before I came. Oh well." Shrugging he gives a sly smile and offers and arm to Tavrie with a pointed look at R'hin. Tavrie flashes R'hin an amused look, though it is Satiet she hears. "Oh? I hadn't heard that he had such a quality. I'll be sure that I'm never taken in by it, though that might be difficult," she states rather ambiguously. Tavrie takes another sip of the wine, and then offers Rilsa a somewhat shy smile. When M'wen speaks her attention snaps back with pleasure and she grins garishly, happily accepting his arm and shifting her drink to the other. Tavrie coughs softly, looking up at him and furrowing her brow. "You make me feel...rather small," she informs him and then grins. "You've eaten? Pity! My aunt marinated some of the meat and then there is her sweet glaze. You'll miss out if you don't let things settle. I haven't actually been to get anything yet," she sums up. "I'm afraid I'm drinking on an empty stomach," Tavrie admits. Slowly, tables start being filled with baskets of bread, and more plates of roasted vegetables. The crowning glory at each of the wooden 'tables' is the large piles of Tavrie's aunt's marinated meats and with gusto, a young boy whoops! "Time to eat!" R'hin touches a hand to his heart as if hurt by Satiet's words, tipping his glass in her direction in silent toast, taking a gulp of the mulled wine. "The lady of the spires has become jaded with the ways of the world, I'm afraid," he observes in a bland aside to Tavrie and M'wen. With the briefest flicker of looks towards the brownrider next to Tavrie, R'hin says with an easy tone, "I don't think you've much to worry about," he assures her, with a twitch of lips, though doesn't seem given to explain further. "Shall we adjourn to the tables?" he suggests. Samialla has arrived. Once she has a plate of food, Imariel looks around and watches the comings and goings with patent interest, her eyes picking out people she knows or has at least met. Rilsa is given a polite nod, if she happens to take note of the candidate her dragon Searched, and a small smile. She picks up a piece of cheese on her plate, nibbling as she watches the dynamics unfolding around her. Finally, Immie makes her way to the drinks, selecting fruit juice and not the mulled wine. It's fairly obvious she's not a drinker, and definitely doesn't want to risk breaking the rules of candidacy. So, it's back over to her spot by the tree, sitting now and once more concentrating on eating. For Rilsa, the young goldrider manages a little smirk, watchful of the rest of the crowd, taking especial note of Imariel's nod to the Weyrsecond. "Aye, if that's the case, then perhaps the Weyrs should consider a permanent station here to brew the weed. Our especial export to the holds and halls, though Healer might take offense." The last said with a purse of her lips, Satiet gestures, "The weed can wait now, no?" Her smile flashes, charm-filled and dimpled to the brownrider, "I've a few candidates to keep an eye on, but perhaps," a nod is sent to the crowd of candidates Imariel sits with, "They'd appreciate good conversation, wise words, and getting corralled into smelly work." Rilsa gives Immie a nod in return before replying to the goldrider. "I think you're right. Perhaps a bite to eat and some well-phrased white lies about the joys of numbweed brewing may be in order." M'wens face takes on a disappointed visage at the mention of good food. "Oh Well, I'll provide the good company instead then, lead on if you will?" He gives a small nod to R'hin and a tilt of his head to Tavrie. "Well at least it smells nice..." He looks over to watch some of the quicker folk already enjoying the spread, a bit wistfully, following the lead given. "I -should- probably get a drink though." Only Imariel isn't sitting with the candidates anymore, but just to the side of them, back propped against a tree. Not that she can hear the conversation between Weyrleaders, Tavrie and M'wen. She just noted Satiet's glance in their general direction. She eats and drinks, apparently content to be the wall-flower. Or, rather, the tree-flower, in this case. Perhaps she's just plain tired. Samialla has been here since earlier, though she's kept quiet and stuck to the jobs she's been given. Now that the time has come to eat, the girl's found herself a seat with the candidates, near those faces she knows best. Even in the relative security of a group of familiar people, Sami is quiet, sticking to eating and talking only when prompted to. Those large eyes of hers are scanning, and she's listening to the conversation around her actively. Tavrie seems all too willing to do just that, taking M'wen up at his offer and leading the way by one small step and a faint forward pull, heading for a table and the food piled there. "Evening, R'hin," she bids him good night, adding on a wink over her shoulder. "I'll keep M'wen out of trouble for you," she adds at the last moment. Tavrie dips her head as she all but drags M'wen eagerly past Satiet and Rilsa. Tavrie slows up, looking sheepish. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to hurry you about. I guess I'm just hungry," she notes. "Here, let me make you a deal. You...can provide good company, and drink this," she tells M'wen offering him her wine. "I really don't want to get any more loopy, I'm naturally hyper enough as it is," she informs him with a wily smile. "Now, I'll sample a few things and tell you how they are," she concludes, looking at him with a lifted brow as if asking approval. "The wine is decent," R'hin observes helpfully to M'wen, "But there's ale, if you've a preference." With a nod to the pair, he strides towards the tables, wine glass in hand. It doesn't take him long to collect a plate of food, piling a little bit of everything - including the sauce - on. Some of the candidates are leaving as he arrives, wandering off to stand and chat in groups nearby, and R'hin darts in to take their seats, giving a nod to Samialla and the others with her. "Good job today," he offers as he settles in. Perhaps Samialla is one of the candidates Satiet's decided to keep an eye out on. Or not, but once the weyrwoman glances about, a seat by the wide-eyed girl seems to draw her quickly over, and unceremoniously, the slight woman drops herself into that seat. "Samialla, were you Hespra's daughter or Tantyalia's? Or neither?" The last added with a quirk of her lips as the goldrider begins to fill a plate with the food spread in the center. Samialla actually blushes as she realises who's coming to sit at the table. It's the *Weyrleader*! Big scary, ooh. She swallows the food in her mouth and nods acknowledgement of R'hin's words. A "thank you," is also offered quietly, just in case the rider wasn't addressing her directly. When Satiet comes and sits right next to her, that only has the girl looking more nervous. "Um, Celicia's, ma'am," she states, toying with the food on her plate and looking at Satiet and at the plate alternately. It's only when the weyrleaders come and sit down with the candidates that Imariel seems to pay any attention to them, watching with slightly wary eyes as Satiet engages Samialla in conversation. She eats and watches, smiling as one of the male candidates kneels down beside her for a few minutes to chat. She gives Leeden a grin, nodding at something he says, even laughing a little. But when he offers her a glass of wine, she shakes her head, gesturing with a hand toward the table as if to say, 'not in front of them.' Not that she wants anything more than juice to drink anyways, but she's not taking /any/ chances to earn herself any more problems than she's already had. R'hin doesn't get much of an opportunity to eat, nor to comment on Satiet's presence; his head tips upwards, glance touching the bronze circling above before he rises, slipping from the table with wine glass in hand. He goes to chat quietly with one of his wingriders, the Weyrleader's lips pursing as eyes rove over the gathering before settling back on his companion. Taking the glass in hand M'wen grins his thanks to Tavrie, despite being heartily dragged in the direction of the food. Being very careful not to let any of the wine fall out onto the ground he raises it to R'hin as the weyrleader leaves and says, "I must still make an effort to improve my ungourmet nature." Turning back to Tavrie, once she's stopped that is, he gives a cherful grin, "Good company then, something I can actually give!" Letting a low chuckle escape he surveys the small crowd, though his attention soon returns to the girl beside him. "Celicia," Satiet repeats, filing the name for later with a careless nod. "Is your mother here today, or did she remain at the Weyr?" A glance casts about the area, the various fields for brewing that are set up given a dubious little look. "Not that I'd blame her in the least." Samialla's eyes follow R'hin as he leaves, and something about her posture indicates that she's at least a little more relaxed now. There's still Satiet's questions to answer, however, and Sami sets her knife and fork carefully on the plate with a delicate clink to pay full attention to the Weyrwoman. "I think she came...I haven't seen her as much since...since I was Searched." She looks left and right as though searching for her mother herself. "She usually likes to come and help out, so she might be here, ma'am?" Tavrie is content to tug M'wen along like a stuffed creature, ending up at the same table as Satiet and Samialla. "Hey, Samialla," she greets. Tavrie doesn't say anything new to Satiet, but her eyes sparkle with mirth and they light on the weyrwoman just long enough to speak a vague message if she looks. "Do you like the wine?" she asks of M'wen, cocking her head to the side and smiling up at him. "It was good, but it is a bit strong for me," Tavrie admits. The girl looses his arm to take a sit, though she appears to do so rather reluctantly. Looking as if she needs his permission, the candidate sheepishly begins to fill her plate with meats, cheese and bread, following Imariel's earlier lead. Leeden leans down to whisper something in Imariel's ear, and whatever it is seems to make the girl's cheeks turn bright red. She shakes her head almost vehemently, and give the other candidate a stern look. When he shrugs and walks away, Imariel rises and moves to the end of the table, as far away from the others as she can get, setting her glass and food down and firmly turning her back to where Leeden now stands with a small knot of young men. The conversation seems to ebb and flow around her, without her paying much attention, obviously troubled by something. "I can imagine," Satiet returns, picking at her meal at first, before she piles some meat into a halved bread and makes an impromptu sandwich with some of the roasted tubers inserted here and there. With Tavrie's approach, the young weyrwoman shifts in her seat and then slips up, though the arriving candidate and her toy of a brownrider is granted cordial enough looks. "Paemar will get himself into trouble one of these days if someone doesn't-," but whatever she means to say gets lost in the boisterous crowd noises, and instead she imparts a look of apology to Samialla. "I missed my mother too, when I was Searched. I visit every month since I've Impressed, but three turns without contact was, ah, difficult. Enjoy your meal, Samialla." And off to rescue Paemar from a wedgy-giving crowd of bullies goes the goldrider. Dassah has arrived. "Hi, Tavrie," Sami returns in kind to her fellow candidate's greeting. Her next words are for Satiet, since Tavrie seems to become pre-occupied with M'wen again. "Oh," she squeaks sadly with a look over at the noisy crowd. She looks at Satiet as the rider rises from her chair and catches the look. "I...thank you, ma'am." She doesn't know quite what to say on the subject of mothers, and once Satiet's left, looks down sadly at her food. Sniff. Tavrie smiles at Samialla, head tipping as she takes a moment before eating to speak to Sami. "Don't be sad, Sami," she offers in a consoling manner. "Won't your mother come to visit? Will she be here for when the dragons give the word that time draws near?" Tavrie asks hopefully. "My parents just gave word that they plan to come, though apparently, my father is quite doubtful," she admits, pulling a face. "Take heart, sweetness," the ex-nanny notes in her amiable way. M'wen is given another tug to get him seated and settled, toy indeed. Tavrie nibbles at the first bite of her dinner and sighs with pleasure. "I've had to smell this without sampling for so long....mmm!" she gives her own appraisal of the food. After a long days work, Dassah has gathered herself up a small plate of food and is moving in the direction of her fellow candidates. A polite smile as she approaches a pair of them. "Tavrie, Samialla." She says politely as she stops by them. A look around at the assembled workers, and a pleased expression spreads over her face. "A very productive day, don't you think?" Draining off the last of the wine as he chats with the bluerider, R'hin finally nods, clapping the man companionably on the back, before the two part ways. The Weyrleader heads for the drinks to refill his glass, while the bluerider heads for his dragon. It's fortunate that his full plate has held his vacant spot, and he slips easily back to the table, as if he'd never left. "How would everyone feel about a swim, after dinner?" he asks to those gathered at the table, looking almost pleased with himself. "J'mian's said he found a cove further down the beach that would be perfect for swimming away from the waves." Imariel, too, notices Sami's sadness and her demeanor softens somewhat. "I agree with what Tavrie says," she notes to the girl, offering a kind smile. "Surely your mother will come to the Hatching, and you'll see her then?" She toys with her food, not really eating, but stirring it around. "I miss my family, too, but I guess I'm lucky. They're in High Reaches, so maybe they'll get to come to the Hatching, too." Immie looks up as R'hin returns, but has a dubious expression on her face at the talk of swimming. "That sounds nice, sir," she ventures, voice hopefully lost in everyone else's comments. Melata hops down Verenth's side to the ground, using his straps as handholds. Melata has arrived. Shanlee has connected. Samialla nods, listening to Tavrie's reassurances. She remains looking down at the food on her plate as though it's all she can see, however. Herreply is quiet, as though it's being drawn up with great effort from deep down inside of her. "She lives in the Weyr...I've just been too busy to see her. She's going to come to the Hatching. And my dad." She looks up with a smile at Tavrie and at Imariel, nodding. "Thank you. We'll all see our families there, I hope." Finally she notices R'hin's return, the Weyrleader's words only just sinking in. Sami's appetite is lost, apparently, in favour of a swim. "That sounds like it would be fun," she agrees softly. "Swimming? That would be perfect!" Tavrie bubbles, obviously keen on the idea. "M'wen, will Maxeoth come? He is fun to swim with," Tavrie asks the brownrider before continuing to eat. She nods at Imariel. "I bet you're glad to have your family pretty close?" she half asks, half guesses. "It was nice to get away from mine and have some space, but I do miss them, too," Tavrie admits of hers. "Mine are at High Reaches Hold," she says with a shrug. Dassahglances at the others around her, and frowns the slightest bit. Then, with a shrug, she moves away. Other candidates are briefly visited and greeted, all with careful politeness and pleasantnes, if no actual warmth from her. As she moves, her meal vanishes until she is left with an empty plate; a handy excuse to escape from a too-chtty person who assumed she actually wanted to talk. With a polite excuse, she is away from the young girl and moving to drop the plate off in the appropriate place. "Excellent." With the chorus of (mostly) enthusiastic responses, R'hin seems happy enough, glancing towards M'wen, since Satiet's moved away from the table. "That is, if the candidate coordinators think they can keep all of you in line," he remarks, clearly jesting, if the curl of lips is any indicator. He rolls up some of the roasted meat, dipping it in the sauce, savouring the food and not in any particular rush, it would seem. Melata is finally joining the numbweed crowd, her duties at the main Weyr completed, only to now be at the numbweed fields for the evening shift. She waves to various people, several from her own Wing that have been here all day, as she heads for the food that has been set out. Wilf has connected. Samialla pushes her plate away, looking anxious at not having cleaned it up. The prospect of a swim overpowers her want to find a proper place to put her half-full dish though, and she watches R'hin, tapping her toes on the ground. She glances over and notices Dassah moving around and lifts a hand to wriggle it in a greeting. "Dassah," she manages to call out, afraid to raise her voice too much and look rude. Tavrie continues to eat quietly, leaving M'wen to his own devices since he's already eaten. "Everything tastes better when you are hungry," she affirms the old adage. The young woman places a slice of cheese on her bread and nibble it happily, glancing around as more and more people stop their chatting and come to sit at the tables. Dassah is greeted with a friendly wave and a smile. It's fairly obvious Imariel is not the social adept everyone else seems to be. She's mostly quiet, sitting at the end of the table finishing what's left of her food and juice. After talking to Samialla, she falls quiet again, looking around as if expecting someone to jump down her throat over some infraction. She eyes the knot of young men with Leeden almost warily, as if waiting for something. It doesn't help when the weyrleader says something about keeping the candidates in line. She almost visibly flinches at that, for some reason. Dassah returns Samialla's wave as she returns from plate disposal, coming to stop near her once more. "Hey." She offers, with a bit more of a smile. "Going to join the others in the water, Samialla?" She asks curiously, a glance towards Tavrie including her in the question. "Not so much my thing, but the water here should be plenty warm and pleasant, especailly after a day's work." Melata fills her plate, then looks around at the tired people. Finally she heads over to one of her winriders, namely M'wen, and asks, "How did the shift go today?" Tavrie, silently observing, follows Imariel's eyes and purses her lips thoughtfully. She finishes chewing her bread and swallows it with relish before addressing her fellow candidate. "Are those -boys- bothering you?" she spits the word out in a derogatory manner, one brow arched curiously at Imariel. Sitting slightly off to one side, her meal done with her Shan waves a hand at Dassah to join her. A quick smile is thrown in Tavrie's direction. Rolling her sleeves up as high as she can Shan, then unties the lower few buttons of her shirt and ties it up under her ribcage. R'hin takes another mouthful of the roasted meats before he rises, wine glass conspicuously still in hand. His voice rises a little, not yelling, but pitched to be heard: "Anyone interested in a swim, feel free to come along. That includes our lovely, gracious, wonderfully talented kitchen staff," he unashamedly flatters the cooks with a tip of his glass in their direction. An easy nod is given to Melata as she nears, his voice back to normal as he inquires, "Going to join us, Wingleader?" Almost startled when she's addressed, Immie turns to look at Tavrie. "What? -- oh, no," she says. "I've just got a feeling they're ... well, planning something silly and that it'll get out of hand," she adds. "Leeden was asking me if I'd like to help him with something, but he wouldn't tell me what, and I'm already in enough trouble as it is." She shakes her head. "They haven't bothered me, really, but I don't want to get in trouble over what they do, if you know what I mean." She's leaning forward toward Tavrie and whispering as softly as she can and still be heard by the girl, and /not/ heard by anyone else. Melata pauses, looking at the overly young Weyrleader. "Join what?" She quickly realizes that the activity is to be swimming. "No, I don't think so. My dragon, maybe, but not me." Dassah gives Tavrie a curious look. "Something wrong with boys?" She queries her friend, glancing from her to Imariel. "Or is there something I am missing? which is, admittedly, all too common." But then Shanlee is there, and for her a genuine smile is given. "Heya, Shanlee. Enjoying dinner? What about you, going to accept the weyrleader's invitation and indulge in a swim?" Tavrie makes an 'o' of understanding with her mouth as she listens to Imariel. "True, getting into trouble isn't something on my list, either," she notes and turns her nose up mock-snobbily for a moment. "Eh, just stick with us and away from them," she offers off-handedly and grin. "Hrm?" she asks Dassah and then grins mischeviously. "Well, there is something wrong with -those- boys, Leeden and friends," she notes and points at the troublesome guys. A twitch of brows is R'hin's bland response to Melata. "Surely you swim, Wingleader?" It almost seems like a deliberate jibe, yet there is no change of tone to indicate such. Already some of the people have begun moving down the beach in the indicated direction, but most of them aren't in any great hurry. The corners of Shan's mouth curl up slightly at the overheard snippet from Imariel's direction, followed by a soft snort to herself. Like Leedin was anything to worry about. Eyes lift in the Weyrleaders direction as he compliments kitchen staff before answering Dassah "That it was Dassah.... Siwm? After today? Just try and stop me" and grins while tugging at her boots with one hand and pulling the headscarf off with the other. Melata sits down with her meal. After a couple of bites she finally replies, "Yes, I swim. Very well, if I may say so...it is practially a requisite with a dragon who needs scrubbing. I just don't wish to swim right now." She says this with the ease of one long past the need to prove anything, especially to someone less than half her age. Imariel looks up and smiles at Dassah, giggling a little behind her hand at Tavrie's mock snobbiness. "Well, I ... don't swim very well, so I'll probably just wade a bit," she tells the other girls. "Besides, I don't have a swimming suit with me." She shrugs. "I'll watch from the shore. Surely not everyone will be going in, and I can keep them company." With a low chuckle, R'hin seems undaunted by Melata's tone, answering blithely, "As you wish. I will, however, be commandeering your wingrider, as his duties as candidate coordinator necessitate his attendance." His hand gestures very obviously towards M'wen, and without further comment, turns to join those heading for the cove, falling into step with some of the candidates. Dassah gives a soft laugh at Shanlee's eagerness, shaking her head. "As if I had to ask. And thank you for your present, it was just in time and served me quite well today." She looks over towards Imariel with a reassuring cant to her smile. "I'm not planning on going in, either, so you won't be alone. It will be interesting, besides, to see how the 'Reaches riders relax in the water, and how it compares to Southern. Swimming down south is as much a defense mechanism as anything else." Not wanting to be left alone, Imariel rises, taking her plate and glass over to the proper place. She meanders back in time to meet up with Shanlee, Dassah and Tavrie, listening to Dassah talking about Southern. "There's just not a lot of opportunity to learn up here, though many people do. I just never learned how, very well. I suppose, if I Impress, I'll have to learn in order to wash the dragon." She smiles a little sheepishly at her fellow candidates. "I guess we're pretty much ready to go, hm?" Melata narrows her eyes as R'hin leaves for the beach, but whatever she mutters under her breath as she takes the next bite of her roast meat is (for the best) lost. Having managed to rid herself of the rather hot and sticky boots, Shan leaves them in a pile "Would you mind keeping an eye on those for me Imariel?" Scrunching her toes in the sand, Shan is grateful to have thought about wearing a swimsuit under her clothing. Her eyes light up at Dassah's comment about the gift "It was a pleasure" as she matches her stride to that of her friend's "I think I'll take the rest of this off closer to the water" and plucks at the shirt sticking to her. "Don't tell me, I'm the only one of us going in?" Shan glances around at the other girls around her. Dassah follows the crowd down onto the beach, giving an amused look over at Shantee, "Nah, you'll have R'hin and others, I am sure, and besides... I thought you liked an audiance?" A glance towards Imariel, "Well, even summer up here is cooler than down south, so swimming is rare I'd guess. But I did enjoy a nice dunk in the pond a few weeks back, after dark. There's something exhilerating about icey water that I never got to feel back home." Wilf and his two cohorts having finished up their meal, get up from, the table, and start off heading for the cove for a swim, Wilf sees that ti seems only Shanlee is kitted up for a swim, and he winks at the other candidates. Charis has arrived. It should be no great surprise that R'hin's set his pace to catch up with Bristia, chatting amiably enough with the greenrider - if the definition of 'amiably' includes the trade of snarky comments between the pair. The cove's a brusque ten minute walk from the site of the feast, far more sheltered from the waves by a rocky outcropping, and perfect for a swim. Melata eventually finishes her meal, and gets up to follow the stragglers towards the lake. She isn't going to swim, but nothing says she can't walk down to watch...and get some exercise in the easy hike. "Brrr..." That's all Immie says to that, chuckling as she watches Shanlee drop her boots in the pile of clothes. "I'll do my best, though I do plan on wading a bit," she tells the other girl. Immie takes off her own boots, then bends over to roll up her pants legs to above her knees. "I'm sure the water here's warm enough for swimming, she says, carefully setting her boots next to the pile of clothes left by folks near where the feasting took place. The sand actually feels good to her feet and she seems in much better spirits than earlier. Shanlee scowls briefly at Dassah, then snorts "An audience? Now where on Pern would you get an idea like that?" and wonders if perhaps she should rather just stay fully clothed and firmly on the beach side of things. A wicked grin crosses her face at Dassah's pond comment "Yes.......you rather enjoyed the swim that night." Her glance briefly catches Wilf's wink, now what? The feel of hot sand under her feet, feet made bare by the quick removal of the work boots sh wore, causes Dassah to smile happily. "I do enjoy sand, though, and it's just not the same back at High Reaches. I think the lake's too small or something." She rolls her eyes at Shanlee, though her cheeks turn the slightest bit pink. "You're not supposed to talk about that, remember? And you just seeem the type that'd like an audiance, show off a bit." She teases her friend, though the tease is uncomfortable from her lips. Melata meanders in to the lake area as other people are starting to head out into the water. Speaking of show-offs. R'hin's taken off his shirt and is throwing it in Bristia's direction as he races her for the cove, the pair ruthlessly shoving each other in an effort to reach the shoreline first. Imariel unbuttons the bottom few buttons of her shirt, tying it in front, letting a bit of air cool her midsection. She follows people down toward the shoreline, carefully not watching those who are undressing. She stops at the water's edge, letting the ocean wash over her feet. Not wanting to get splashed by incoming bathers, she tries to stay a little away from others. The water and damp sand feel very good after working all day, and she's very tempted to try paddling out a little ways, even with her clothes on. But, the thought of going Between back to the weyr in wet clothes is /not/ a fun idea. So, well, it's either strip down or wade. Charis moves along behind the group, tired from the days work and rather quiet for the most part today. She smiles, watching the other runs ahead, pushing and shoving to get to the water first. The girl looks out at the ocean, thoughtful in expression. Wilf turns to Sedor who is definitely the more adventurous of the two, "I think all the candidates should swim don't you." He grins, they are following the other canditates at a distance, taking note of the indepth dicussion going on between Dassah and Shanlee. Sedor as is his way doesn't answer just nods his head a sly look in his eyes. Wilf strips off his shirt and long pants, and in the shorts he had on underneath heads off in the direction of the water, Sedor and Leeden following close behind, seeing Immie standing on the shore wading only ankle deep he changes direction and between Sedor and himself scoop her off her feet and take her into the deeper waters. Shanlee sighs, then shakes her head "Fine, pond never happened" she mutters a little disgruntled by the whole audience tone the conversation seems to have taken. "I happen to enjoy swimming after a long, hot day" she all but snaps, then realising Dassah was probably only teasing, attempts a half-smile. Hauling her breeches off to reveal a black one-piece Shan decides to rather leave the shirt on over it in the light of things just said and instead starts unbraiding her long hair. "Charis, you'll swim won't you?" and then a broad grin covers her face as Immie becomes the next recipient of a Wilf dunking. The racing pair pause to dump clothes by the water's edge, Bristia beating R'hin to the water by a mere pace or two. She receives a thorough dunking from the bronzerider for her win, which is rather gleefully returned in kind. Melata rolls her eyes as she sees all the splashing going on. She carefully takes a dry spot well away from the water to watch the antics happening. M'wen slinks away towards his dragon. Immie doesn't have time to react as she's scooped up by the two boys, but once she's out in the water, there's a startled, gasping screech. She struggles to free herself from their grasp, but then realizes what they're up to and tries to clings to them for dear life. "I can't swim!" she cries in horrified gurgles as she's dumped in 'way over her head. She can, at least, paddle well enough to keep afloat, and thankfully keeps her head above water. "You ... you --" But the last is a muffled blub as she sinks a bit. "I'm all wet now!" she accuses them. But, she really isn't all that upset, especially when Leeden lends her a hand to keep afloat. Dassah just looks smug at having rattled Shanlee; a rare treat for the candidate who is usually on the receiving end of teasing. The mention of Charis gains that canddiate a polite smile. "If you don't want to, you can always join Imariel and I on the beach, we're not swimming. Well, she's wading a bit, but I don't much feel like water today." Wilf gets a brief, skeptical glance, which she quickly turns to shanlee, but is distracted by Imariel's sudden immersion. She frowns, "Now that's just rude!" Wilf having now ensured at least one of the female candidates is going to swim smiles at Immie, "You were going to swim weren't you?" He asks not really bothering whether she wanted to or not, seeing that Leeden has her securely in his grasp, looks back at the beach and sees Shanlee heading down to the water, he scans the beach for other candidates that look like they might want to swim as well. He shouts out rather too loudly, "What! Shanlee a bikini, no nude cavorting today? And I invited friends and all." He grins at her, and glances over at where Dassah is sitting. Laughing and watching for a moment as Wilf dunks Imariel, she catches his last comment. "Oh go drown yourself Wilf!" and stalks off into the water. Wading in until she is knee-deep, Shan casts one final glance to the little group gathered on the shore and dives in under the water. Popping up, water streaming down her face almost on top of the cavorting riders and Candidates, Shan moves off a little way, rolling over onto her back, she peers up at the night sky. Dassah just eyes Wilf calmly. "You missed your chance there, Wilf, sorry. And let me just warn you, if you even /try/ to force me intot he water, I will break your arm." There's not the hint of a smile, and given she's not known for her sense of humor... She looks, instead, to Imariel, "You ok, Imariel? That was a really low thing to do..." Another disgusted look at the boys in question. After quite a bit of splashing around, R'hin eventually makes for the shore with a laughing, "I give, I give, no more," breathlessly directed towards Bristia, who's looking rather triumphant. Running a hand through his wet hair, the bronzerider sinks onto the sand, catching his breath. Charis blinks her eyes, turning to look at Dassah with a smile. She watches the antics of Wilf and Leeden and chuckles softly. "I'm not sure if I'll swim just yet. I ain't been ta da beach before. This is nice." She sits down to unbutton her shirt, removing it to reveal a blue swimsuit underneath. She digs her toes into the warm sand, grinning at Wilf. Imariel is, at least, not drowning. "I'm all ri --" and then she's let go and sinks beneath the water. She comes up spitting and spluttering, but Leeden's at least good enough to grab her again, this time leading her toward shore until her feet can touch the bottom. Soaking wet, she gives the boys a glare -- but then laughs, shaking her head. "You all will /so/ pay for this if I freeze going back to the weyr," she warns, standing now knee-deep in the water, hands on her hips. "If I die of some horrible sickness before the Hatching, I will /so/ never speak to you again!" Oh, wow ... some threat there. She turns and walks out of the water, dripping from everywhere. Yeah, she's a drowned wherry, all right. Or, looks like one. Melata watches as the splashing gets even more ferocious as Candidates (and a few others) overcome the coldness of the water. Wilf wades out of the water, walking up to where they had hastily dropped their clothes, Wilf looks over at Dassah, "wouldn't dream of it," he grins at her, "I didn't have to Shanlee told me enough to keep my imagination busy for a while," he winks at her, a mischievious look in his eyes. Not sure how much Shanlee had actually told her about the conversation. Wilf watches as Immie now soaking and looking a bit like a drowned wherry, comes out of the water assisted by Leeden. He offers her his shirt, "Take off your wet clothes and put this on," Chuckling he says "it'll be big enough for you to wear as a dress." He digs his feet into the sand and just as he is about to sit down feels something warm and round under his feet, thinking it could be a pebble he starts to dig a little with his hands. Dassah shakes her head, and nods to Charis. "Sounds like a plan." Wilf simply gets a bemused, tolerant smirk from her before she looks elsewhere. She moves away, walking along the beach a bit herself. For the moment, Wilf's antics out of her mind, she is quiet and simply enjoying a rare moment of relaxation in quiet solitude. As a few of the other swimmers leave, Shan decides to stay in a little longer and enjoy the relative peace of the water. Having floated out a fair distance Shan rolls back over, dives under again and comes up swimming strongly for the shore. As her feet touch the sandy bottom, she catches Imariel's attempt at a threat - I'll have to teach her how to do that properly one day - Shan muses, and wades out of the water, heading for a piece of sand just off from the others where she can gather her thoughts as she dries off. Green eyes slide in Wilf's direction as he attempts to bait Dassah. Somewhat grateful to Wilf for his kindness, Immie starts up toward the treeline, not wishing to simply give the boys a show as well as being the butt of their joke. But she turns back around to thank Wilf, and sees him digging at the sand. "Find something, Wilf?" she asks, curious, holding the dry shirt away from her to keep it from getting wet. Melata eventually becomes tired of watching the swimmers and splashers. With one more backwards look, she heads back to the numbweed camp to help with the evening shift. Wilf digging in the sand for what he supposes is a pebble, feels another and another, he starts to dig a little faster, uncovering what he now realises are not pebbles at all, but eggs of some sort, Wherry he thinks to himself odd place though for wherry eggs. He looks up at Dassah, and indicates for her to come over, "Dassah, come and look at this," he says a bit confused. "These are eggs he says, but why would there be eggs, on the beach?" Not realising what his find is as he is not familiar with, eggs except for chicken eggs that the had to collect at the cothold, and these were definitely not chicken eggs. R'hin scrunches up his shirt, using it as a makeshift pillow of sorts. Bristia finally emerges from the water herself, flopping to the sand beside the bronzerider, the two chatting quietly, occasionally glancing towards the candidates. It's the tone of Wilf's voice that catches Dassah's attention more than the words; where she is expecting more teasing, she gets a confused entreaty. Curiously, she moves over towards him and looks down at his find. "Huh." She says, as she watches him dig the small orbs out. "Well, my guess'd be firelizard, hear about those on beaches back home now and then. Can't think what else buries eggs in the sand, wherry wouldn't cause they have nests, I think." A glance around. "But I'm no expert, maybe one of the riders has seen them before?" Charis looks over at Wilf sitting closeby. Her expression grows curious when he starts digging so she gets up from her seat to scoot over to look. Her eyes grow wide at the scene, "Eggs? I've not seen firelizard eggs before." Her expression grows to that of excitement. Paemar takes a step closer filled with curiosity "Yeah Dassah, what are those?" he ventures. Shan turns her head eyes narrowing, what was Wilf up to now? Probably a ruse to get Dassah close enough to him for a dunking. Feigning dis-interest she continues to regard the little group through hooded eyes. Hearing Dassah's pronouncement however, Shan rises, dusting the clinging sand off and wanders over to see for herself. Wilf says "Sir" Wilf half shouts at R'hin, "could you come and look at these eggs and tell us what they are, please sir."" Dassah takes a step back out of the way as the others crowd in, and with Wilf's request turns towards the weyrleader, adding her voice to his. "Wilf's found some eggs, and we're curious about them. Could be, I guess, tunnelsnake... But I guess they would have a burrow and stuff, wouldn't they?" Imariel eyes the eggs along with everyone else, peering at them, forgetting the fact she's now dripping wet. "Firelizard eggs?" she queries, head tilting to one side as she drags the scarf off her wet hair. The sodden cloth is stuffed in her pocket as she crouches down. "The don't look like wherry eggs," she muses, glancing over at R'hin when Wilf calls for his attention. Oenoneth has arrived. The candidate's interest doesn't go unnoticed, but it's Wilf's yell that draws R'hin's attention, the Weyrleader rising and making his way over. "What is it, Wilf?" he questions, glancing at the gathered candidates, then the thing that has their attention. "Oh," he exhales in surprise, edging in and half crouching to examine the shells closely. Carefully, he digs his hand in underneath the sand to half scoop up one of the eggs, testing the weight. "Firelizard eggs," he concludes, with a nod, "And they're intact, it seems." Eyes glitter with excitement, as he glances around. "Who found them?" Shalyn jumps down Oenoneth's side to the ground, using her foreleg as a step. Shalyn has arrived. Shalyn dismounts and removes her goggles and helmet, with a smile she looks around at the goings on. Arms folded across herself Shan watches with interest as the Weyrleader reaches his conclusion "That would be Wilf, Sir" a half-smile on her face. "They're really fire-lizard eggs?" Wilf takes in what Dassah said, Firelizard eggs? could they be, he watches as R'hin walks slowly up the beach towards him. Pushing the others away slightly so that they don't stand on the eggs he digs a little more uncovering in total ten of these eggs. As R'hin arrives and confirms Dassah's first guess, Wilf proudly pipes up "I did Sir," a fairly smug look on his face. Charis watches curiously as the others press in to look at the eggs. "Tunnelsnake." The old miner shakes her head, "Nope, too big ta be tunnelsnake eggs." She looks around at the group and grins. She waits for R'hin to come over to get a better look at them. Dassah nods in agreement, though doesn't restate the obvious; she simply stays out of the way, watching and listening. At Charis' comment she nods. "Yeah, they'd be smaller, and, wlel, in a tunnel. I'd think." Still, R'hin confirms her theory and she smiles a bit. "A good find for the Weyr, Wilf." "Indeed they are. Quite a find, too. Hard to tell how many until we dig them out - they're not ready to hatch quite yet. Well done, Wilf," R'hin approves with a grin to Wilf. Returning the egg carefully and packing the sand back around it, he says to Bristia, "Can you get back to the Weyr and find a basket? And some furs to line it with." The greenrider, glancing over his shoulder, nods and jogs towards her dragon, disappearing in the skies above shortly after. "I wonder if there's any more hereabouts; perhaps we should look around?" Imariel seems pretty fascinated with the eggs and amazed they're really firelizard eggs. "That's just amazing," she say softly looking up at Wilf. From where she's crouched, she can only count a couple of eggs. Shanlee says "Do they tend to clutch along the same stretch?" Shan asks R'hin with interest, and looks up and down the beach. "Where would we even start?" she lifts a foot and peers down at the sand under it, hoping to goodness she wasn't standing on another clutch right now. "How many do you count in this one?" Dassah looks around, almost curious herself, but she turns back to look at the egg already found. "It's uncommon to find them untouched by snake or fowl, isn't it? The chances of finding more around here would seem small, and firelizards aren't great at protecting their clutches. Or at least, so they say back home." A shrug. "But i guess it would give people something almost useful to do?" Wilf following R'hin's advice Wilf quickly start to cover the eggs up again, until Bristia returns with the basket and furs to remove them safely to the weyr. He sits down right next to his find,he's not moving until these eggs are safely removed, just in case they can't find them again. He turns to Leeden and Sedar, "off with you two go and see if you can find anymore," he says grinning broadly at the two. Leeden starts to say something, "buut, Wilf," and then seeing the look on Wilf's face, decides it's better to just go off and do what he was told. Wilf gives Leeden a stern look, his blue eyes twinkling, but his face a scowl, Leeden turns and walks off. Sedar, shrugs, and utters a rare word, "don't want too look for any more," and plops down next to Wilf on the sand. Shalyn nuzzles her large lizard, "Greens are poor at protecting their clutches, Queens watch them like a clutching dragon." "The fact that there's one clutch here indicates it's a good place for it - the right amount of heat, isolated. And judging by the size," R'hin says, fingers brushing away some of the nearby sand, "I'd say it's definitely a gold clutch. Though I'm surprised the dam isn't nearby. Greens normally abandoned their clutches, but golds tend not to." He leans back, hands on his thighs, pursed lips as he watches the candidates thoughtfully. "We'll have to decide what to do with the clutch. But, Wilf - it was your find." His head tips, eyeing the candidate speculatively, as if waiting for an answer. There's a hopeful expression on Immie's face as R'hin makes that remark. "Oh, Wilf, how lucky you are," she says, smiling widely at the tall Candidate. "And, I'll bet you're going to be very popular once the news gets out." There's a teasing smile on her face as she studies him, then chuckles. "I'll be back in a few," she says, rising and heading once more toward the treeline, obviously going to do what Wilf suggested before he found the clutch: change from wet clothes to his dry shirt. Charis looks over at Wilf, surprised at the decision that the candidate can decide about the eggs. Of course, deep in her heart she is hoping that she could possibly have one, but doesn't voice it to her fellow candidate. She looks around at the group and then takes a small step backwards. She smiles at Sedar before she settles herself back onto the sand to sit. Dassah rolls her eyes a bit. "Well, really, it's not like any of us has the time for such things anyway. Especially those who end up Impressing the real thing. Best to donate them to the leadership, let them decide who deserves them or where they can best help the weyr." She glances over at Imariel, "And reemeber, he nearly drowned you!" Wilf looks inquisitively at R'hin, "Sir I have no idea....." his voice trails off. He hasn't got a clue what to do with the eggs, but doesn't want to look like a complete......How does Shanlee put it 'a wherry brained oaf.' "Sir I'll follow whatever advice you give me, as I'm not to sure, what to do with the clutch?" He looks up as he hears Dassah's last remark, and snickers, "If I wanted to drown her I could've, Das, it was a playful gesture, Oooh yes I forgot you don't play, only work." he says jokingly. Shanlee hunkers down next to Charis, damp shirt-tails dragging in the sand as she takes a closer look at the clutch. Brushing her drying fringe from her eyes, Shan chuckles at Dassah's reminder to Imariel "It was just a swim" she remarks in amusement "Besides, I don't think drowning was an option for her with all of us around to pull her out." Pulling her shirt closer, as the night breeze comes in off the sea Shan grins to herself -so he remembered- good. "That was Leeden and Sedar," Immie calls over her shoulder as she finds a bit of underbrush behind which to change. It's not long before she ventures back out, Wilf's shirt indeed making almost a dress on her. Well, a /short/ dress. Her own clothes are laid carefully out over the trunk of a fallen tree, hopefully to dry a bit before the trip home. "They were the ones who grabbed me, Dassah," she says, strolling back down the beach, legs bare from mid-thigh down. She used her wet belt to hold the "dress" in place, the sleeves rolled up. "I was all right, they didn't let me drown. It's all good." R'hin's head tips as he studies Wilf, before giving a slight nod. "Well, Dassah's solution seems a good notion to me." Bristia's breathless as her green appears from between, swooping down to a landing nearby with a kick of sand. She's got a furlined basket in her arms, and carries it over to the group. With a grateful nod of thanks to the greenrider, R'hin motions for Wilf to help him begin to move the eggs across, packing in sand as he carefully digs out and move the eggs across. "Gently," he murmurs, "They're not completely hard yet." Dassah snorts. "They share a brain, and you know it." But it's half-hearted as she is shouted down by her fellows, and she takes another step away from them. "Still, my point remains..." But, R'hin has reinforced it and for a moment her smile is smug. But it quickly fades. Still, she does look to Wilf again. "And please, it's Dassah. Else, I shall have to call you Wi, and you don't want that as a nickname, do you?" Ducking instinctively as the green lands in a flurry of sand, Shan smothers a laugh at the suggested nickname for Wilf "Wi? Why not go to the opposite end and use his full name instead, Wilfred, sure he'll love that one" she comments in a low mocking tone. Her attention is quickly drawn to the delicate task being performed in front of them and drops back into quiet contemplation, glancing at the men's hands working so carefully and gently around the eggs. Strange that, she thought -such big and rough hands could perform such a dainty task- with as much ease as swinging a pick-axe. Wilf thinks to himself, Oh good she thinks it was the other two oafs, and grins. Following R'hins lead Wilf starts to put the eggs gently into the fur lined basket, his big hands being as gentle as can be. "Sir, if you think that is the best option then the leadership it is." Looking up at Dassah, Wilf smiles, "My name is Wilfred, Wilf is my nickname -Das-," he punctuates the word as he says it. "I'm Wilf to -all- my friends," he says purposfully, and winks at her. Taking up on her comment on Leeden and Sedar, "Leeden shares anyones brain unlucky enough to be near him," he laughs. All told, R'hin and Wilf transfer ten eggs from the sand to the basket, and a careful check by the Weyrleader shows there's no further eggs to be found. "Thank you, Wilf," R'hin says with a nod of his head, the gratitude for more than his help with moving the eggs. He packs some extra sand on the top of the basket, before Bristia covers it with the last fur. "There's a spot by the hearthside that's perfect," Bristia says, carefully picking up the basket and carrying it back to Saindyth and securing it firmly. Rocking back on his heels, the bronzerider exhales as he watches her depart. "Well, I don't know about any of you, but I'm exhausted. I think I'll head back to the Weyr. If you find any more clutches," he adds with a glitter of eyes, "Do be sure to let me know. Thank you all, for your help today." Dassah grits her teeth. "Then, Wilfred, I will be sure to use your proper name. Or the name that most resembles what the infants do in their nappies. Wi would be fitting, indeed." She's tense now, and her expression isn't one of teasing. "And regarless of what you do with your friends, Wilfred, I would prefer you use my name, and not hack it to pieces." She glances at Shanlee, and it's almost a request for help; as much as she can allow herself, anyway. Then her gaze goes back to watch the riders transfer the eggs. As Wilf agrees with the handling of the firelizard clutch, then continues on to needle Dassah again, Shan glances over to R'hin "Sorry Sir, we don't get much time to relax and I guess this is the result of it" she shrugs. Unable to contain her rising mirth any longer Shan starts laughing, good spirits returned. "Quick Paemar, you're standing too close to Leeden, better move" and her green eyes twinkle as she offeres Leeden an almost apologetic smile. Paemar grins and makes a show of moving away from the brain-sharing Candidate. "C'mon Wilf, give her a break" Shan gives her friend support. Imariel has had about all the fun she can take for the day. "Could someone give me a ride back to the weyr?" she asks, moving to collect her still wet clothes. At least her feet will be warm and dry going between. She then spies Shalyn and waves to her. "Can I catch a ride back, m'am?" she begs. Shalyn chuckles, "Sure that's what I'm here for, but you had better get a cloak or something to keep you warm *between*." Shanlee looks over to the Weyrleader and inclines her head slightly "It was a pleasure to be of service to the Weyr". "Don't apologize," R'hin says to Wilf, a twist of his lips visibly sympathetic. "I remember what it was like. It wasn't all that long ago." Leiventh finally ceases his watchful circling, angling to a landing not far from Bristia's green. Rising, the Weyrleader nods to the assembled candidates, before striding towards the hook-nosed bronze, motioning - oddly perhaps - for Bristia to lead the pair as they flicker up and between a short time later. |
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