Logs:Spring Gather at High Reaches

Spring Gather at High Reaches
RL Date: 30 July, 2011
Who: Ali, Aughan, Azaylia, Celadion, Emmeline, Issedi, K'del, Khorde, Nathalia, Phedre, Rhaelyn, S'thyn
Involves: High Reaches Weyr, High Reaches Hold, Fort Weyr, Crom Hold
Type: Log
What: Folk from around Pern attend the spring gather at High Reaches Hold.
Where: Orchards, High Reaches Hold
When: Day 11, Month 5, Turn 26 (Interval 10)
From cool morning to bright afternoon, the Gather has slowly began to reveal it's full potential. The transformation is subtle enough to slip by Azaylia until it's too late, and the Apprentice finds herself among a stifling number of people. The crowd is a jovial monster at least, catching her up in it's jaws and tossing her from one booth to the next with mixed results. The Harpers have come out of hiding, music dancing on the edge of hearing, overcome by the sound of talk and laughter. With faded blue skirts grasped nervously in her hands, Azaylia successfully manages to untangle herself from the mass in order to catch her breath. While frazzled, her lips are parted with a bit of a smile, content to observe before joining the shoppers, drinkers, barterers and looky-loos. K'del has been a visible figure at the gather, resplendent in his blue-bronze-and-black attire, varyingly seen with a cluster of exiles and candidates, and with the two toddling figures of his sons. It's evidently hand-off time now, though: he stands off to one side, detaching a wailing toddler from his knee in order to hand him over to someone else. "You can come back later, Nikky," he says, soothingly. "Be a good boy, and don't pinch Kase, and I'll take you around again after your nap, okay?" The sobbing boy - and his rather quieter sibling - are carried away, leaving K'del to turn wearily back towards the crowds again. Yet another arrival swaggers into the gathering at the Hold. S'thyn's knotless and dressed rather finely, looking at home in the Hold -- a good deal of which is to do with the half-consumed glass of wine that he carries with him. He pauses mid-crowd to throw back the rest of the glass, earning some mutters from the moving crowd which has to bypass him. Frowning at his empty glass, he muses aloud, "Where was that drinks table again?" he goes onto tip toes, peering over the heads of crowds, and asks more loudly, "Drinks, anyone?" Though the call could be taken as an offer rather than a question, given the way he asks it. In clothing nicer than what Phedre normally wears, her dress is still simple of a dark charcoal color with a brilliant, crimson sash. Without the severe braid, her hair flows loose in dark curls down her back, with only a crimson ribbon to act as a headband to keep loose curls from masking her vision. No matter the clothing, the girl's countenance does not soften much, even as her brother tugs on her hand in excitement. A wary glance is cast at the riders that serve as their escort, but for the moment, Phedre does not depart from the knot of exiles, at least not immediately. Huddled next to a ornate tent are a cluster of girls, a couple candidates from the weyr from their knots but mostly, strangely, an odd arrangement of hold girls around the age of fifteen to eighteen. In the middle of this buzz is a rather weary looking exile. Rhaelyn is dressed in finery that is unmistakably not hand-me-down, and that cream and frost has been fitted to her lean frame. At last, one of the candidates touches Rhae's arm with a little smirk, "We should get going, Ylynna says primly to her friends and guides the exile away from the group who stare after the oddity, giggling only when the the weyr-group has moved away from them. If Rhae hears...well, she's not showing it. Still, she makes an excuse and makes a path to a familiar face. Phedre. Baby blue fabric is smoothed out by nervous hands as Azaylia's senses are bombarded by finery. Glistening gowns, others look to be spun from air with how easily they float with every motion. While the faded blue dress and tarnished gold trim have been crafted with care, the fact that it no longer completely covers her calves tell of how long ago that might have been. Azaylia is startled out of her self assessment by foreign noises. One is that of a child crying, the other is a hollar for drinks. Wide eyes look at no one in particular and everyone at once, voice failing to rise above the commotion in a quiet answer. "Drinks are that way." Sadly, it's where the water and fruit juice is kept, rather than spirits. "Yes. We were late," Phedre shoots a dour look in the direction her brother ran off to with that group's own shadow, "but," once back to Rhaelyn her expression smooths, "now I'm here and want to escape." Figuratively since the look she gives Rhaelyn's (and quite possibly now hers) is lacking the sting it normally carries; rather, mild curiosity is what filters into her expression. "You are doing well for yourself," she adds with a little grin, the tone conspiratorial as if holding a secret from one girl to another. "My mother provided me with mine," she adds, fingers tangling in the charcoal skirts, the color uniform without further adornment, and spreading them slightly. "Did you just get here?" she asks, though her gaze steals around, perhaps taking in K'del's near-joining their little group. Dark eyes return, firmly resting on Rhaelyn. S'thyn apparently gives up in his futile attempts at casting about for help, and ceases impeding the crowd. Instead, he pushes through, looking for a vaguely officious-like member who might be able to help him. K'del looks like one such, at least from behind. "Hey, where are the dr--" he trails off as he actually catches sight of K'del's face and recognizes him. "--delicious food tables around here?" there's barely a pause as he picks smoothly up, smiling his most charming smile to the Weyrleader while belatedly holding glass behind his back. He catches Azaylia's words, and, with a beaming smile in her direction, angles off that-a-way. Someone's going to be unhappy when they realize the hardest drink there is juice. For a moment, K'del looks about to make his way through the throng towards the nearest group of the exiles - the group with Rhaelyn and Phedre amongst it - but he seems to change his mind, as though he's had enough 'punishment' for one afternoon. Anyway: he's distracted by S'thyn's approach, blinking owlishly at the greenrider for a moment before a smile hints about the corners of his mouth, his eyebrows raising: really? /Really/? At the very least, the encounter draws his attention to Azaylia, who gets a brighter smile and a cheerful, "Hello, Azaylia. Enjoying the gather?" The silvery gauze of the fabric that layer over the sisal and satin underskirts glint in the sunlight as Rhaelyn strides across the distance to reach Phedre, chin tipping up as Ylynna's, "Where are you going?" Lilts up with irritation from over her shoulder. The candidate does not look remotely pleased. The rider who has been shadowing the group doens't either, so much for the girls he was flirting with. "Phe!" Up close, the designs of the dress can be made out more easily, silvery blue embroidery like smoke making the patterns of cresting waves over the front of the modest bodice. "Thank you." About the dress, a little smirk too. "We can wander around. So long as someone is with you." She motions towards her shadow. "Did you just get here?" "Oh." Why she's surprised to find the Weyrleader at the Gather is anyone's guess, but there it is in her staring and parted lips. "Yes." Azaylia answers promptly, standing a bit at attention in K'del's presence. It's a moment longer before she remembers to smile, the happy curl to her lips at least genuine. "Are you enjoying yourself, sir? I..." Words faulter at Rhaelyn's passing, distracted by the glitter before she shifts back to the rider. "...thought I heard crying." S'thyn doesn't even bother to try and look guilty under K'del's expression. He's busy seeking out the drinks that were so helpfully pointed out to him. By the time he reaches the table he's got his glass held out again, "Benden, if you have it, or Southern, if you don't." The servers give him almost the same look as his Weyrleader did, and just as they're about to pour some juice into his glass, he hastily snatches it back and covers the opening protectively. A hasty, if slightly awkward exchange occurs, and S'thyn is finally pointed in the right direction. Emmeline seems to have at least attempted to keep her rider escort amused, probably by flitting back and forth amidst every single solitary table and vendor at the gather and exclaim over something new - so he looks /tired/ and desperate to escape rather then bored. The exile herself could be easily lost against the backdrop of trees in the sage green chiffon she's picked; the darker satin ribbon marking an empire waist being the only other splash of color. Nice and simple, but she counts herself lucky to have found a perfect fit. And when she rounds the corner into the orchards again the fact that it's growing more crowded gives her pause. Long enough to look around more carefully and try to pick out faces. K'del seems surprised, though not terribly concerned, by Azaylia's surprise: his smile certainly doesn't waver. Not until she mentions the crying, anyway. "Too much sugar," he explains. "And too much excitement. Toddlers are easily over-stimulated, and I /know/ that, but it's easy to get carried away when they're having a good time." Until they suddenly /aren't/, and then all bets are off. His expression is rueful for it, but not upset. Even so, when his gaze isn't on the apprentice, it's tracking S'thyn vaguely through the crowd, and he admits, "But it'll be good to try and spend some time here as... someone other than 'daddy'. Or even 'the Weyrleader', if I can manage it. Seen anything amazing?" "Oh!" Rhaelyn actually looks to be in better spirits and not so dogged now when she flashes a smile to Phedre, "They have a tent full of dresses. There are more colors in one rack than there are in the rainbow. I promise you. And there's another tent filled with cups. Just -cups-." She might be stretching the truth a little, but for an exile it might as well be. It's answer enough that she's been here for a little while at least. At the remark that she's doing well for herself, there's almost a look of pain that thins her lips, "Thank you. Your dress is very nice. At least it is not a hand-down right?" Phedre dips her head down to look at her simple dress, but when she raises it her expression belies only the warmth of infused cheeks and the brightness that lingers in dark eyes. "True. Truth be known, I do not know how my mother did it, but if I'd known there was going to be a whole /tent/," a soft sound escapes, drawn out in distinct teenage'd fashion, "then I wouldn't have had -- I wouldn't have asked her to do all the work." Pause. "Really? A whole tent just full of /cups/?" Her right hand comes up to fold over the joint of her left elbow as she considers this, leaning in closer to Rhaelyn as her voice drops, no doubt to prevent the escort from really hearing. "They have such /abundance/ here." Azaylia blinks. "Sugar..?" Thumb is reminded to brush over the tips of her fingers on each hand, checking for sticky residue from the few sweets she's partaken. The full explination has Azaylia brightening some, understanding sparking a shy smile. "All of this is almost too much for me to handle." Let alone a toddler. Brown eyes tear themselves away from the Weyrleader for a bit of nervous glancing about, only to spot Emmeline. Smile gaining solidity, she welcomes the newly familiar face before answering K'del. "Everything here is so amazing." Excited, but still quiet, she fidgets where she stands. "I feel almost bad looking." Since she know she can't possibly purchase everything. K'del's gaze follows Azaylia's, and he, too, smiles in Emmeline's direction before he turns back to the apprentice in front of him to say, "It is pretty amazing, isn't it? We used to come to gathers a bit when I was a child - my brother played at a couple, even before he got sent off to the harpers - but usually smaller ones. This--" He smiles, looking, briefly, enormously youthful. Moreso than usual. "But don't feel bad looking: they expect it. What they're hoping is that you'll see something you love, and you won't be able to get it out of your head... so you'll come back and buy it. Maybe not this gather, but perhaps at some future gather. Or at their place of work. It's a long game, sometimes, but it works." "They cost of course. The dresses." She gives what she's wearing a pluck to indicate 'not like this'. "You should have a look at them. I can show you. Or, just look in any of the tents." As for Phedre's mother and her dress making skills, the darkhaired girl nods, making a sound of agreement but her gaze is drifting, checking to see if Ylynna is still with the other candidates. The casting of her look catches Emme and she lifts a hand of greeting, slight though it might be. Back to Phedre she says, "You're right about that." Is that a jealous note in her voice? "We'll have abundance too I'm sure." Exiles will that is. Emmeline appears to be looking for someone or someones in particular if the intent focus of her gaze is any indication. But, not finding what she's searching for, the expression settles into uncertainty. Until Azaylia smiles her way, which she returns. And a hand-lift is given in return to Phedre, brief smile to Rhaelyn whom she sees is with her, and a nod towards K'del. Indecision momentarily wars, pulling her in both directions until she settles on approaching Azaylia. She's unwilling to risk breaking that truce of politeness with Rhaelyn in the middle of a gather! "Lujayn was right; look at all the food they've spread out *this* time." What? Exiles... food. Nobody is surprised at tis focus, right? S'thyn disappears... somewhere, for a while. And then he's breezing through the crowd again, another half-full glass of wine in hand, comfortably escorting one of the Hold's more well-dressed ladies. He bends to murmur something to her, causing her to laugh, and he looks somewhat disgruntled, though manages to hide it well enough. His gaze passes over the group of exiles, and, with a furrow of brow, adds something to the woman before stepping away and making a beeline for the group, and their rider escorts. "Ah, exiles!" He calls, cheerfully, oblivious to the fact they might take exception to that particular term of address. "Have you found the drinks tables yet? I'd be happy to escort you." He appears to have included Ylynna and her friends in that address, too. "Perhaps, but later. So they don't let you wear them for free?" Phedre's tone takes on the barest hint of an edge, but distraction comes by the way of Emmeline, who gets a returning wave and smile for her fellow exile. It lasts only so long as she starts to turn back to Rhaelyn and say /something/ when S'thyn is addressing the group as a whole. The softness of her features harden at this particular brand of address. The rocky countenance of a non-too-pleased expression is turns onto S'thyn, but it is to Rhaelyn that she mutters, "Will we? Or will we forever be in the pocket of the weyr? Not allowed true freedoms." Phedre's views remain annoyingly consistent when it comes to the largesse of the weyr's grace. "You're so very right," Emmeline is greeted with agreement once she's within earshot, "I'm afraid if I eat anymore, I won't fit my dress." A genuine concern, given the areas that need to be let out for the still growing Apprentice. K'del is peered up at, embarrassed at her unworldly ways, "I've been to small gathers back home. My papa always tried to sell and do business at the ones held at Igen, but..." She wasn't taken on those trips, obviously. Not even memories of exclusion can dampen her day, "It's a smart game. I... think I want to buy the whole Gather." A weakly offered joke, but it's there. "Afternoon, Emmeline," greets K'del, cheerfully, with another bright smile for the harper now that she's approaching. "Food definitely is one of the best parts about gathers. Food - and later, all the dancing." Something about his smile hints, very vaguely, that he's thinking about more than just standard dancing, but given the company, it's probably good he doesn't remark further on it. "I usually want to buy the whole place, too. My boys went home with... uh, a lot more than they came with. Guess I just can't help myself, you know?" The benefits of a Weyrleader's stipend. S'thyn, maybe, catches some of those final, muttered comments, though makes no indication that he's aware of them. It'd be hard to miss Phedre's reaction though, though there's no quick apology forthcoming. There's no recognition of Rhaelyn at first, then with a tip of head, he nods, "Right. From the Snowasis? I'm Jimal," he offers by way of introduction, the lie so well practiced it'd be difficult to accuse him of anything. "I believe I owed you a drink," he adds, with a grin. "Are you ladies allowed to move about--?" he peeks past them towards their escorts, with a tip of head. "I think we all know I haven't a mark to spend, but it's been quite an adventure looking at everything. Dresses, hats, boots, belts, pastries, jams, teas... it's /amazing/ just how much they *sell* here. They had the most incredible fabrics. There was this really soft one they said was, uhm.. velvet! That's it." Yes, Emme is both wistful and babbling until she comes back to her senses again and has the grace to flush for rambling on like that. "Nothing wrong with buying for your children. I magine they went home excited and happy." she notes, finally. The mention of eating too much to fit in her dress from Azaylia has her looking down at her own for a second. But, seemingly satisfied she's not going to jinx herself by saying the same! For a moment, Phedre looks abashed, but it passes quickly with a nod of her head, "Of course. Forgive me." These words are added with the return of her warm smile as the girl turns back towards S'thyn. Demurely -- for Phedre, this must be worked on -- she folds her hands together and holds them clasped down the front of her dress, resting on that dark crimson sash. Her own glance is cast quickly to their escort at the man's question, though what she says is, "Well met Jimal," in a voice remarkably polite given her earlier, embittered comments to Rhaelyn. "I believe so, if we keep our escort." How many times does Rhaelyn have to be warned about men offering drinks? Perhaps a few more times. "Jimal. That's right, no wonder. I kept getting your name wrong. And yes, I believe you do." A hesitation, remembering almost too late, "Oh, this is Phedre." To an outsider, it might sound dismissive, but that's just Rhae's way. "Jimal is from...Igen? Ista?" Again, remembering other people? Not Rhae's strong suit. "Oh, we have to keep our escort but that shouldn't be a problem. Right?" OH HAI. Here comes rambly Khorde, all gangly length and halfway-fancy shirt rolled up almost to his elbows just so it's not that obvious that it's really too short for his arms. He's not poking at anyone just yet, instead trailing along after the bluerider who is apparently his escort, grabbing some sort of beverage and vacuuming any food that happens to lie in his path. He's like a roomba, but less cute. Azaylia gives a repeat preformance for K'del's sake. Emmeline is no doubt familiar with the young woman's ability to clam up at the mention of dancing. Though, being left to marinate in the energy of the crowd, the apprentice can at least offer a weak excuse. "Probably shouldn't dance... uhm, on a full stomach." K'del spoiling his children brings pleasant memories to mind, the familiar thrill at receiving a gift from her own parents. Emme's list is missing something, and Azaylia is slow to correct. "Did you see the prize Runners? They're so gorgeous... and all the cute baby animals." A dreamy sigh, smile so warm it threatens to melt those who get to close. "Ista," Jimal-S'thyn is quick to respond, with a smile to Rhaelyn to indicate he's not at all perturbed by her lack of recall. "Pleased to meet you, Phedre. I haven't seen you around before, but-" his hand gestures outwards, casually, "Guess you're not the sort of hang out at the dice games?" With the approval of the escorts, he half-turns and gestures the way for the exiles. "It's a gather. It would be a crime to deny you the opportunity to sample drinks from around Pern. After all, you've plenty to have to catch up on." "Won't force you to dance," K'del promises, faithfully, though he seems genuinely amused by Azaylia's reaction. "Don't intend to wander off in that direction for a while yet. Got to give the food time to settle, definitely." Emmeline's long list of things seems to please him, too, and he nods: all enthusiasm. "We got these little wooden sculpture things that move in the breeze so it's like the animals are dancing in the air, or something. Going to try and find a way to hang 'em up on the ledge, if I can. Sadly, they went home over-stimulated and cranky-- but they had fun while they were here, at least." He looks a bit rueful for that, but doesn't let the expression linger. "Ready to face the stalls again? I've got two elbows." One for each of them! "No. Dice games do not tend to provide temptation for me," Phedre says, charcoal skirts swishing about her legs while the tails of the crimson sash rest down the back of her skirt where it's tied smartly in a little bow. Relenting, she releases one hand to toss tendrils of unbound hair over her shoulder, a gleam glinting in her eye at the prospect of tasting different foods. "Pleased to met you too, Jimal." The first step might contain the slightest hesitation but the next that follows is more purposeful. "I still have that wager with Khorde." The roomba. "You know, who's going to stumble first." The mention of dancing forces Emmeline to remember this bad idea with stunning clarity. "I saw the baby animals and they *are* so adorable." she agrees, a smile on her lips for the dreamy expression the other girl is sporting. "Wooden sculptures that dance in the wind? I missed those!" Mourn. She will, of course, readily agree to face the stalls again and takes an offered arm. The opposite of Azaylia in the shy regard, it would seem. "Ista. Right." Rhaelyn drawls at the reminder from Jimal. She looks from the man to Phedre and back again, "What sort of person 'is' someone who hangs out at dice games?" Innocently curious right?" She too falls into step going towards the drink vendors but her attention drifts from booth to booth that they pass and it's with difficulty that she's not stopping to oggle the goods. "Dancing?" Khorde is now a puppy again, this time tripping over his paws to follow after daddy-dawg K'del. "Dice games? Prize runners?" Apparently, alcohol_soused Khorde is a much nicer being than normal_snark Khorde. The young man weaves a step or two after whatever-this-group-is, and fixates upon Azaylia because her luck is *just that bad*. "Hey! Are you gonna dance?" Wait. "With Emmeline? She wants to dance." And Khorde has a fantas-- er, fetis--er, /fixation/, that's the f-word needed here, /fixation/. Azaylia remembers that wager between exiles, the competitive nature so unlike the apprentice that it's refreshing to see. Especially when such ferocity isn't directed at her. While Emmeline is eager to take up an arm, her own hand hovers in the air, uncertainty keeping an invisible barrier between her palm and K'del. That is, until Khorde appears. Wide eyed and staring, Azaylia responds in a similar fashion- with a rushed and quiet squeak. "Nodancing." And because the Weyrleader promised he wasn't going to make her, he'll suddenly have her hugging tight to his free arm. Swallowing, she at least attempts to speak normally to the somewhat familiar boy, "I... thought you and Emmeline were going to dance?" It's much too gentle to be considered throwing, but the other young woman is lightly nudged under the bus. And she's very, very sorry. K'del has a teenage girl on each arm: awesome. He's about to start leading the way back towards the tents and stalls, but the conversation between his two girls and Khorde draws his attention, not to mention stilling his feet. He glances from one to the other to the other, brows raised. Wooden sculptures? Forgotten. "I'm--" he hesitates. "Sure Emmeline will have no shortage of people to dance with, if she chooses to. I'll dance with her, if she likes; later." He's clearly missed something important here. "Or-- ? Are we not dancing?" So confused. S'thyn doesn't seem interested in the various other booths as he smoothly guides Phedre and Rhaelyn past them. He's just a step behind them, a hand held out to either side as if providing a guiding step if they should stray unexpectedly. "Have you played many?" he asks Phedre, with a rise of brow. As for Rhaelyn's question, he's pretty quick with a response to that: "Someone who likes to take a chance. Someone who isn't afraid to lose now and then. Someone who likes a thrill." S'thyn grins. "Pick one." His sense of direction, now that he's found the place he wants to go, is unerring, and they pass near the dance square before reaching the drinks vendors. "What's your preference? Sweet? Dry?" Has she just been flung under the wagon here? She -has-. First by Khorde, and then by Azaylia. And it takes a good few seconds for this to sink in, where her face is just blank. And then she's indignant. "There was no agreement to dance with Khorde. We were to dance with *other people* and whoever stumbled first, lost." Emme reiterates, for those who have obviously forgotten. And for K'del who wasn't there when the wager was made. Oh there's more she wants to say there, and she has to bite her tongue (literally) not to say it. The male exile is shot an exasperated sort of glare though. "I think we should keep looking at the stalls. Shouldn't we keep doing that? Azaylia?" Suspicious by nature, Phedre keeps casting Jimal/S'thyn a look from under the fringe of dark lashes for that guiding hand, not entirely sure if she likes it. Like Rhaelyn, however, she is loathe to pass the booths without at least getting a good look in them. A time or two, it would appear as if she's about to stop, but her feet never do. Until finally they've arrived and it is here that she answers their guide's question with an admission, "I've never played a game of dice." The table captures her eyes, but she lifts a slender shoulder in a quick shrug, "My preference tends towards sweet." Now, her attention is in the choosing of a drink. "Oh." Khorde sounds disappointed, at -- everything that everyone just said. Why does everyone have to be so /un-fun/? "Well," sulk, "I guess," sulk x2, "--I'll just," is he pouting? "--go away." His lower lip totally looks a little.. sad. Dejected. Rejected. Cast off. Cast away. Lost. Just call him Wilson. "Have fun, guys." He even turns, every line of his body coated with a delicious layer of near-visible anti-establishment 100 pure emo, before moving off a step or two. It doesn't take him long to forget what he was being a baby about, because: "Another glass? If you insist," and trailing off happily with his original bluerider escort, yet another wineglass in hand. "Is that -- that's not a dress! That's underwear!" There must be pudding over there. Azaylia is the last person to commit metaphorical murder, and it's likely she doesn't even realize Emmeline's been run over. "O-oh." There's something in the tone that causes her to lean into K'del just a bit more, half hiding from the exile on the other side. "I wasn't sure..." And then somone kicked a puppy. To be more precise, Khorde's slumping and pouting has the apprentice cooing apologetically under her breath without realizing. Look how sad he is! But Emmeline still holds the dice, for Azaylia's earlier and accidental betrayal. "Y-yes. I think we should." K'del is peeked up at, arm given a squeeze of apology for being so confusing. "You can tell us if... maybe something is a higher quality than something else." He's important to their window shopping. K'del's gaze follows Khorde uncomfortably, but given the exile seems relatively contentedly occupied after a few steps, he seems willing to let it go. "Of course," he enthuses, instead, rather more brightly than he needs to, leading the way through the crowd towards the stalls. Conveniently, his height - not to mention his recognisable face - help send the crowd in either direction to avoid running in to him: bonus. What's less fortunate is that a few steps later, they run in to another set of Important People, for whom the crowds /also/ part: a greying, black-haired man with a tall frame, dressed lavishly, with a dainty pale girl half his age sedately strolling beside him. "Weyrleader," says Aughan, smoothly. "Lord Aughan," says K'del. And: "Lady Issedi." "I cannot fathom a game that would take what little I have in the way of value," Phedre comments while smoothly accepting the white, with a glance at Rhaelyn. "Yes, of course, there are a few booths that I would like to see..." Her voice trails off however as the conversation comes back around to Jimal, though she does try to sneak a peek at what's going on with the others, but her answer to their escort is cool when she lifts her glass, "Of course we do. We are no different from /you/." A guilty glance around at the obvious affluence of the Hold and she amends, "Not much anyway." Challenge rests in the dark eyes that regard one who is not of the Island, but the sharpness of her attitude is reigned in almost visibly. "A toast to the gather," is her own suggestion as to the nature of the toast. Emmeline is apparently the only one unsympathetic to Khorde's pouting face. If anything, she looks completely disbelieving. "He's had a few too many. Believe me, he's just fine. See? He's already chasing after someone he thinks is dressed in underwear." she points out, cheerfully. "Good idea, Azaylia. We can learn how to see if we're being cheated!" That will come in handy later. Unfortunately... (cue up the scary music) there are Important People in the way. She's smart enough to realize when they all come to a halt and facing each other, that she should probably keep quiet. So she waits. Quiet. "Alright, no sirring you then." Rhaelyn notes after they speak of the dice playing. She even adds to Phedre, "Sometime the dice playing can help you increase the value of those marks you have." The girl smiles as accepts the glass of red wine and gives it a swirl around in the glass. The movement is more for show because the exile doesn't have the right attention to what she's doing to be really judging the result of that swirling. Instead her eyes are trailing just over the top of the glass. "Very nice." When the toast is made, she hefts her glass, not countering the other exile's remark, even though a slight tick in her cheek hints that a comment was just at the tip of her tongue. NO no, she's just going to sip the wine and listen tonight. S'thyn lets out a low throated laugh. "You value your chores that highly, Phedre? Or do you mean marks? No-- far better to travel to Bitra if you were intending to wage those. Though from what I hear that's not possible for the likes of you right now." He nods agreeably with Rhaelyn, "Ah, see, now your companion here gets it. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose." He doesn't seem to upset by Phedre's sharp retort, lifting up his shoulders in the briefest of shrugs. "I'm not privy to your life, so I wouldn't dare assume. For all I know you spent your time getting a nice tan and chasing each other up and down the beach." There's a facetiousness there that makes it clear that isn't quite what he believes, but he throws it out there anyway. He seems content with the suggested toast, nodding his head in agreement, "To a fine gather," he says, quick to take an appreciative sip of the wine. Unsure, but not one to truly argue, Azaylia lets Khorde chase the underwear. "If you're sure..." Which Emmeline seems to be, especially when it comes to her fellow exile. There's an absolute difference between fighting upstream by herself, and enjoying a walk through the crowds on K'del's arm. The other armwarmer's words startle Azaylia into speech, "Cheat? Who would..?" Certainly not the nice folks selling their wares. The aura of Importance that the Important People give off successfully silences the apprentice, her other hand rising to help her subtly cling to the Weyrleader. Rather than squeak at them, she gives a respectful bob and a little buckle of her knees, not quite a curtsy yet so unsure of how to acknowledge them. Azaylia and Emmeline might note a subtle tension in K'del's arms, now faced with this pair of Very Important People, for all that his expression doesn't change. Aughan takes Issedi's arm in a possessive kind of manner, regarding first K'del, and then his two companions with unrestrained interest that borders on the impolite - or would, if he didn't own the action so thoroughly. "You've met my lovely fiancee, then," says Aughan, in a tone that could be described as oily. "And who are /your/ companions?" K'del hesitates before saying, carefully, "We've met in passing, yes. Lord Aughan, this is Azaylia," he indicates the herder, "and Emmeline. Two of our--" Pause. "Apprentices. Ladies, this is Lord Aughan of Crom. And Lady Issedi, of High Reaches." Issedi seems as though she'd very much like to shrink away, but is far too well-bred for it: her smile is hesitant, polite rather than genuine, her gaze largely falling towards her very fine shoes. Aughan says, addressing Azaylia and Emmeline: "Apprentices, eh? The Weyrleader does keep such... fine company." Perhaps Phedre takes a page from Khorde's book in emo, because while she does sip the white, it's slowly and possibly without the correct level of appreciation. She looks about and asks first Rhaelyn and then Jimal/S'thyn, "If you would excuse me and point me in the direction of the facilities, I'd be grateful." She casts a quick glance to their escort, as well, asking, "Do I need another escort for that?" If it's a touch too archly, well, chalk it up to the way she quickly downs the rest of the wine in her glass, loathe to even give it up. It gives her a healthy flush, but regardless, however they direct her, she'll fade off to find the necessities to come back later! Wait, wait. "I thought that was pudding," comes Khorde's trailing commentary, as his path loops around to once more take him fumbling into -- "Weren't you guys leaving?" This is stated mostly to Emmeline, since he's too dumb to notice the Big Shiny Important People. Until (wait for it) ... now. "Oh." He's interrupting. The boy takes a step back, but his gaze lands on Issedi and stays transfixed for a longer-than-entirely-appropriate moment. "Uh." Flounder. Emmeline can smile politely. Most definitely! Especially with the tension near thick enough to cut with a knife around the sudden little knot of people gathered. "Lord, ... Lady." she finally says, keeping her voice far more demure and quiet then she normally would. The sooner they can get through this raher awkward meeting the sooner they can continue window shopping right? Right? And then... there is Khorde. "..." She tries to find something suitable to say to the other exile, and nearly draws a blank. "You forgot your glasses again didn't you? Oh Khorde, didn't the Jouneyman tell you explicitly not to forget them?" Come on, man. Play along! "I have only won so far." Rhaelyn boasts over the rim of her glass, "I like to win." The lovely little smile she adds to the comment is the wordless, 'doesn't everyone?'. Jimal/S'thyn's comment about how the exiles spent their time make her pale eyes harden and she watches the man with the humor slowly fading from her features. Phedre gives her the distraction she needs to cool down, turning to watch the girl go, making note of the direction as well. In silence she swirls her drink and turns back to Jimal. Who knows /what/ she would have said in a temper. "As I expected from a 'mainlander'," Even though the tone is polite, the word comes out ugly and hard. '-mainlander-'. "You have an ample supply of leisure time, and are up to your gullet in decadence, your first thought if we are a bunch of lazy vacationers." Brown gaze drops down to her boots, Azaylia having grown quite familiar with the rounded tips over the course of today. Her gaze is tempted to shift forwad just a bit, as Issedi's shoes are so much nicer. Ooh. At her name, the apprentice straightens up and brings her gaze back to the two Very Important People, small smile coaxed onto her lips. Hopefully they're not trembling too badly from her nerves. "Lord Aughan. Lady Issedi." A whisper, but one without an unpleasant squeak or stutter. K'del is leaned into even more, so much so that her cheek grazes his arm as the tension expands and causes her gut to drop from the discomfort. Still, there was a compliment in there somewhere. Right? "Thank you, M'Lord." Any composure is instantly broken, and for a third time Khorde gets stared at, while he's busy doing the staring. Blinking rapidly, her eyes quickly roll up to K'del, waiting for him to somehow save the situation. Super Weyrleader! If there's any disappointment from S'thyn, it disappears quickly when Phedre downs the rest of her glass before departing. "Normally they at least stay to appreciate the wine first," he remarks under his breath, chuckling. He does seem aware that he's riling the exiles, but while he does so, there's the slight curve of lips as if to negate the offense shortly thereafter. "Only won? You must be a good luck charm, or something. You must come with me to my next game," he says, his tone making it more request than demand, even though phrased otherwise. Rhaelyn's retort earns a low-throated chuckle. "You exiles sure are quick to anger. And no less quick to judge than any... mainlander. You'll take my wine with one hand and slap me with the other, no doubt." Issedi's blue eyes go very wide as, completely by chance, they meet Khorde's as he starts staring. Her otherwise very pale cheeks go pink, and hurriedly, she ducks her head again. It's plenty long enough, however, and despite Emmeline's attempted intervention, Aughan can't fail to notice it: he looks unhappy. "Issedi, darling," he says, in a way that does not come across as genuine in the least. "Why don't you go and find your friends? Back at the hold?" And /away/ from these... influences. K'del, too, has turned faintly pink, though he valiantly clears his throat in order to suggest, "I'd best keep this group moving, Lord Aughan. I wouldn't want to keep you. There were some mobiles to look at, weren't there? I did /promise/." There's still the sharp edges of broken glass in Rhae's glower at Jimal/S'thyn. "I would imagine you don't have so much free time that you can come often to Highreaches Weyr for our gambling. Wasn't it Bitra that has the better...tables?" The tone is polite but cutting, "As you were so keen on reminding us, we're unable to leave the weyr." A hand moves to her chest, "Anger? I'm not angry." Which begs the question of how she's act if she were angry right? She sips her wine , watching him all the while. Vaguely, belatedly, hurriedly: "Oh, yes, that's right, where did I put them? I must have left them somewhere," Khorde fumbles over his words, quickly ducking behind Emmeline to hide the scarlet flush that quickly rises up the back of his neck to encompass his ears and broad over his cheekbones. "Sorry," mumbling; it's all undone by the fact that he sneaks a kind-of-obvious look over Emmeline's shoulder at Issedi one more time. He starts. "Maybe you could help me find them," false-brightly to Emmeline. Uh. Maybe Lord Crom won't have his face beaten in now? One can always dream. "I'm based at High Reaches now. It's but a--" S'thyn gestures, "A bowl's distance away. Bitra rather further." He seems content to continue to sip his wine slowly, savouring the taste. "Uh-huh," he responds, with a sly sort of grin at Rhaelyn. "I know the look angry women get. Ruffled your figurative feathers. Wouldn't be the first time." At least she tried! Emme glances over at Khorde again, and then back at Aughan and Issedi, and then K'del and Azaylia. It's no wonder she looks a little pale for a moment there, right? The color remains leeched from her face, but she does nod hurriedly at Khorde's suggestion. "I... yes, of course I can." Sure they antagonize each other, but exiles gotta stick together right? "If... you can excuse us?" Of course, it's to the Weyrleader she directs the question, slipping her hand back away from his arm so that she can turn as soon as they're given the nod. /Almost/ delicate looking, tonight the young smith crafter is clothed in silk dress tonight, the silvery blue fabric patterned with delicate sprays of spring blossoms. Tying behind her neck and flowing softly about a surprisingly feminine figure, her arms and shoulders exposed, revealing a lacework of scars that trace over her skin. There's a warm smile on her lips as she wanders out into the Orchard spotting a familiar face she makes her way over to where Kurdy/S'thyn of Igen hold is apparently arguing with Rhaelyn. "Well Imagine meeting you here Kurdy. Irritating females again?" She greets pleasantly, cheeks perhaps flushed from the wine. She smiles too at the Islander woman. "Hello Rhaelyn. Enjoying the Gather?" Azaylia releases K'del's arm if only to peek behind him to the other side, where Emmeline and now Khorde are. When actually trying to be descrete, her words are nearly non-existant. "Maybe you..?" But then the harper is already springing into action, only the tiniest flicker of relief sitting atop the weight in her stomach. Intent on doing her part, Azaylia gives the faintest of tugs to the Weyrleader's arm. "Mobiles. Yes. And the, uhm," What do girls like to look at? "Baby runner I was talking about earlier is this way..." Okay, that's something /she/ likes to look at, but it's still an offer to share the blame for cutting the encounter short. Another bend of her knees, skirt fluttering around her calves, "Lord Aughan, and Lady Issedi." Now retreat! Retreat! "Really? For some reason I thought you were only visiting." Rhaelyn remarks to S'thyn as her lower lip taps against the rim of the wineglass's delicate curve. "I guess I might do that. So long as I get a percent of your winnings." Good-luck-charm payment yes? After her next sip she asks, voice still cold, "I get the feeling that you ruffle a lot of...feathers? Feather ruffling?" The term makes her nose crinkle. Any hint of a smile there might have been from Issedi is gone, now: there's a hard line of disappointment on her face, and briefly, it looks as though she might almost be inclined to rebel against the orders of Lord Aughan. She doesn't: a brief smile is given to those around her, and then she departs, trailing off through the gather with a step rather more determined than her poise would otherwise suggest. She's probably going to go and throw things and cry. Poor Issedi. Aughan doesn't seem to notice: he considers the apprentices, the exiles, the Weyrleader, and evidently, his gaze suggests, finds them all lacking. "Good day, then, Weyrleader," he says, coolly, before he turns to go. It doesn't look like he believes any of it. K'del's shoulders slump, as the man leaves, and the glance he aims around at he others is half-hearted. "I'm-- sorry about that." Though Khorde gets a long glance: really? /Really/? Khorde /catches/ that look, clinging to Emmeline as he is, and has the balls to look wounded. "She was pretty! She is pretty! Why is everyone /looking/ at me like that?" Sad thing is that -- y'know -- Aughan may have heard that, since he makes absolutely no issue with trying to shush his tone. Belatedly /realizing/ this, Khorde turns crimson again. Open mouth, insert foot. Chew off, repeat with other foot. "I--" At this point, he just slumps, visibly giving up. Mutter: "Sorry." "You do drive a hard bargain," S'thyn says. He doesn't appear to be arguing with the exile; in fact there's a low laugh at the audacity of Rhaelyn's request. His hands spread at her accusation, and he looks set to answer before Nathalia's interruption. "You should take care at the amount of wine you drink," he replies easily enough in response to Nathalia's barb. Draining the rest of his glass, he tips his head towards Rhaelyn, "If you'd excuse me -- I'm off for a dance or two." When Aughan turns to leave, Emmeline's knees almost buckle with relief. So what does she do? Spin around to berate Khorde now that the danger has passed, of course. "I know you weren't dropped on your head as a baby, because my mother would DEFINITELY have written that down!" she hisses, doing them all a favor by gripping K'del's jacket with the hand that wants to smack the other exile upside the head. "Don't /stare/. That's all. Just don't stare! And keep your voice down!" There. Now that she's said that, she turns into polite person again. "Just come on and look at the stalls with us." They are still going right? Each of the others is eyed. Maybe even beseechingly. The fact that Rhaelyn completely ignores Nathalia's arrival at first could be considered par for the course, but more likely she had her mouth full of wine and couldn't respond. She looks at the smith-candidate with no show of recognition at first and then stares harder at her, "Nathalia?" Oh, how dresses transform people. Rhae is wearing a dress that's clearly far above her station. The cream and frost dress, embroidered and beaded with the sea-wave patterns, is fitted to her gaunt frame. With S'thyn making his departure, the exile can only tack the reason on Nat's arrival but she shrugs, "Alright then. Thanks for catching me up on that drink Jimal." Nathalia seems a little surprised at the comment. "Sorry I was only teasing. Didn't mean to offend anyone," she's in far too good of spirits to be bothered by anybody being irritated with her, or possibly ignoring her either. "Oh don't rush off, surely we aren't such bad company." She pouts a little. Ok so she really has probably had to much wine. Only after Lord Aughan turns does Azaylia go back to clinging to the Weyrleader's arm. Knees made useless, there's the real threat of her dragging him down with her as the apprentice scambles to stay standing. His apology is answered with a whimper of disbelief, eyes twice their normal size and lips shrunken into a tense line. Visibly flinching as Emmeline rightfully unleashes onto her fellow exile, there's the faintest murmur. "She w-was very pretty." But is she going to redirect Emmeline's ire onto herself? Not for all the baby animals in High Reaches. Thoroughly shaken up, Azaylia has been drained of that social frivolity, reverting back to her usual, painfully shy self. That doesn't mean she'll leave their company, but while looking at stalls it may be some time before the apprentice speaks (or squeaks) again. "However pretty she is, she's a Lady," explains K'del, patiently, to Khorde, though there's an edge of exasperation nonetheless. "And she's going to marry Lord Aughan, who is--" he's very careful to lower his voice. "who can be a difficult man to deal with. Don't be so obvious." That doesn't mean he's not vaguely amused at Emmeline's reaction, a smile threatening to escape despite his best efforts. At least Aughan is moving away, and not glancing back: for today, for /now/, everything is... okay. Or at least appears to be. "Yes, let's go and have a look at things." His other arm is offered back towards Emmeline, but only loosely: she can take it if she wants, or wander nearby; he's not concerned. "I might even have a few marks left to spend-- one never knows." "Yes Rhae?" The smith candidate asks, watching the male leave. She studies the dress that Rhaelyn has managed to catch for the occasion with a smile. "I bet Elgin had some pretty complements for that dress, It suits you well." Yup she's had plenty of wine. "Enjoying seeing all the 'plumped bodies'?" The girl asks. There's a pause here, and if Khorde could get any more red, he'd be having a stroke. "I'm sorry!" he repeats, defensive this time, trying to put something -- anything -- between him and Emmeline, or him and the weyrleader. Dejection comes quickly to the young man, on the heels of that defensiveness; slump again, shoulders do. For K'del, his voice is quiet, apologetic. "I'll try not to stare next time." Next time? /Next time/? Since Nathalia drove away the man with the marks to buy the drinks, Rhaelyn has only the bit of wine left in her glass to last her, however long. She gives the glass a wobble to slosh the drink slightly and regards Nathalia's remark, "Elgin?" Her nose crinkles slightly, "He's not wearing the dress, I'm not sure why anyone would compliment him. Ylynna paraded me around all morning in it and I'm sure she will when she finds me again." Her cold eyes zip around in case the candidate is surfacing nearby again. "Hhhmm? OH, I guess it's alright--not really paying much attention to the bodies though. I'd like to see that Lord Crom, I hear he's a big sloppy hog." Lucky for her, she wasn't in the group that did have that run in. "How about you? What have you been doing so far? Aside from drinking that is." Emmeline is going to pretend that Khorde didn't say 'next time'. She's going to pretend soooooooo hard that she'll totaly ignore that and indeed take back K'del's offered arm so that the group can merrily go looking at things that nobody can really afford to buy. "So those wooden things were called mobiles." Yes, she will keep up a steady stream of chatter until and unless someone or something shuts her up. By now, K'del is starting to look guilty, Khorde's reaction clearly having an impact on him. "It's okay," he assures the younger man, hurriedly. "It's really fine; don't worry about it." Maybe he missed the 'next time'. Maybe he's pretending he didn't hear it. To Emmeline, as he begins leading the group off through the crowds again, he confirms, "Mobiles. I think. Anyway - that's what /I/ thought to call them. It should be just around here--" And there it is: a stall full of the hanging toys, some designed to make noise, others just designed to move in the wind. Nathalia laughs "I meant complements for you silly." She frowns, "Or didn't you two come together?" There's a laugh as Lord Crom is mentioned and a sheepish smile, "Well I was visiting the stalls with Warucori. I had a lot of commissions this Turn, so I thought I might treat myself to a few things and buy some presents." She eyes the wine glass a moment, "If you like, I can buy you a drink, or even something from one of the stalls?" An apology maybe for chasing off the male, or for something else who can say. "Perhaps you can help me pick out some things for the little ones in the Nursery?" Khorde follows after K'del and Emmeline and Azaylia, likely in a manner that indicates he's going to keep quiet and only make appropriate sounds when they are appropriate to do so. And he's /refusing/ to look at /anyone/ closely. The toys manage to draw him out again, however, as he stares with fascination at the crafted objects. "What are these?" It's too easy to call him simple-minded, fascinated by baby-toys as he currently is. Rhaelyn's shoulder lifts at Nathalia's questions about her arrival status with or without Elgin. "The dress is Ylynna's." SHe says to Nathalia, eyebrows lifting much like the shoulder, trying to judge just what the other girl thought it came from. "I just did some adjustments." She gives an bob of her head about what Nathalia has been up to and admits, "I'd rather go look around at the stalls. Jibal just happened upon Phedre and I and we got a drink out of the deal." She gets up from her seat, taking the wine with her. "Which littles are you getting gifts for? Turnday gifts?" She guesses. At least this time Emmeline is as fascinated as Khorde is. K'del has done his job well - occupy the exiles so that they don't cause any (more) trouble! When they reach the stall, she's quick to toy with the mobiles that make noise of course, listening to some of them chime gently. And others of them clang loudly. With not a care for how others might not enjoy the combination of dissonant sounds. Khorde can play with the ones that move. She's totally leaving those for him. "These are *great*!" K'del, relieved. The woman manning this particular stall clearly remembers him from earlier in the day, because she's delighted to welcome him back: "Weyrleader! I hope those boys of yours didn't break their new toys already." K'del hurriedly shakes his head, explaining, "No, just brought some more people to take a look. They're mobiles, Khorde. You hang them up and they-- well, I guess they're just pretty, mostly, except those ones--" The ones Emmeline is looking at. "Aren't they amazing?" The source of the dress is as Nathalia expected, or at least the lack of surprise written on her features says as much. "I figured, she seems keen on lending you lots of pretty things. Any way it does suit you." She offers with a shrug, turning to the brighter topic of children. "Most of the toddlers actually, they have been so behaved lately." There's a small pause, "Though I would like to get something really nice for Aella and the other Islander kids." She admits as she lifts a finger to her lips thoughtfully. "I spent a lot of time in a nursery as a kid, and I remember how nice it was to have something of my own." She smiles brightly, as she starts toward the stall where the toys and mobiles are, noticing the group gathered. "Oh that one looks promising." Things MOVE?! Khorde is currently busy being the child he never really was, pinging different things and watching them circle around one another with an eye of wonderment which hearkens back to the beginning of this incredible day with the /trees/. "They /move/!" Y'know, since K'del obviously doesn't /know/ that... The goodness of Nathalia is something of suspect to Rhaelyn. "Thank you." Is said, for the compliment first, a hand passing over the front of the bodice but her eyes stay on the candidate. "For Aella hhmm? Well, Elgin will be pleased to hear you're doing that." As for the other islanders, the motive is fuzzy. "Why would you do that? Surely you're not working in the nursery so much." But she trails along to see what might make a good gift for the islanders. "And they make /sounds/!" Emme tags off of Khorde's comment about how they move. Because yes, they are both now acting like a pair of toddlers that have never seen such toys in their lives. But really, they haven't! "How does it work?" she whispers, peering at every angle of the toy. "Uh... sorry!" she adds hurriedly, trying not to cause another, you know, incident. The woman manning the stall looks /increasingly/ amused. Hey, K'del was here earlier with a pair of toddlers, and now he's back with... well. Three young people, two of whom are as excitable as those toddlers were. "Yes," he agrees, grinning at Khorde. "They sure do." And the same to Emmeline, mouth twitching with a laugh that he doesn't quite let escape. "Pretty, right? I think--" The woman manning the stall breaks in to explain: "It's the wind. It moves through the tubes, and jangles the strings, making all kinds of different sounds. Like blowing over the top of a bottle." Khorde is still in awe. "And these are -- do you put these up places? For people to watch? And listen to?" So innocent, those dark eyes, turned upon the lady-merchant this time; marvelling again at the construction of a particular one, how the little things go back and forth and swing in circles counter to one another. Nat manages a giggle and a wave to the others as they make there way to see these toys which even have teenagers enthralled. "Didn't really plan on telling Elgin about it, he gets kind of touchy on the subject of marks." She notes with an amused frown. "Why shouldn't I do it?" She asks turning to look the Islander woman in the eye, surprised at the question. The merchants amusement seems to allow Emme to relax some. There's very little embarassment there in her expression though, so she also feels free to make a bit of a face at K'del when he tries not to laugh. "Go ahead, you know you want to." she prompts, before the explanation captures all of her attention. "Wow. And how much are they?" Yes, tis is going to wind up being the One Thing that she hordes marks for until the next gather, assuming she manages to get her hands on any money. A look of surprise crosses Rhae's face upon running into the Weyrleader with fellow exiles too. All in one place. Cozy. She lifts a hand to wave to them as she tries to see what they are up to. "They need new clothes and boots and better blankets, not more toys. The weyr has plenty of toys for all that idle time children have." It's not said with any heat, just a puzzling over what motive Nat would have. "Like these things, where would an island child hang it?" She doesn't have the same awe or interest in the items. Turning, K'del catches those waves from Nathalia and Rhaelyn, and smiles cheerfully in their direction. At the same time, he's assuring Emmeline, "It's nice to see people so excited by things. It's-- won't say it's like having children, but you know what I mean? Simple pleasures. It's refreshing." The woman answers Khorde with a cheerful nod, explaining, "Certainly! Some people put them above the cribs of their babies, and dangle them themselves; other people put them up outside, and let the wind do the movement for them. I like making things that make people smile." The price she names to Emmeline is, after a moment's hesitation, probably less than she would normally require, though still not /cheap/. "You'll get a stipend next quarter, same as everyone else, Emmeline. It'd probably cover it... if you were careful." There is a tiny frown from the Smith as she reflects on that thought. "Yes I suppose that is true too, would take quite a few commissions. . .If I started after the hatching, and bought the items little by little. . ." She seems genuinely to be considering the possibilities, as for the toys there is an easy grin from the girl. "There's always some small spot in a nursery to call your own, you should have seen some of the things I had tucked under my cot growing up. My favorite though was a stuffed animal, a little green cotton dragon I called Flicker." She remembers with a laugh. For K'del there is a rather large wave, and she grins as she listens to the crafter's explination. Khorde is lost in his own little world, at least for another moment or two -- until he realizes they have company. He draws himself up with a sudden start, perhaps awkwardly reminded of his own awkardness, and moves a step or two closer to Emmeline. She's so much braver than he is, obviously. She can protect him! "These /do/ make noise," and it's almost accusatory towards his fellow exile, as if she somehow kept that information from him. "Over-- cribs?" The dawning realization starts. Catching the movement of handwaving, Emme turns enough to offer both Rhaelyn and Nathalia a cheerful smile and return wave. And doesn't appear at all ruffled at Rhae's comment about the mobiles. "Don't be so stuffy." she chides. "Toys like this are -fun-." Which, in a roundabout way, means she's in agreement with K'del and his clever way of trying not to call them children and just implying they're as easily entertained as one! "Simple pleasures. Yes." Being so brave, of course, means she can tap one of the noise-making mobiles and give Khorde another exasperated look at the same time, with no shame. "Didn't you hear me playing with this one a few seconds ago? Yeah it makes noise!" The price of the one she's been eyeing just makes her nod thoughtfully back at the merchant. "I've nothing else to spend on, so I should be alright." is replied back, when the stipend is brought up. Rhaelyn gives Nathalia a look of concern, "If that's what you want to do. " It's a surrender of trying to figure out what the other girl is up to and instead she wanders to another display sparkling as the light catches the spinning bits. "I'm not being stuffy." The girl says quietly to Emme with a curious smirk, "I just didn't think the nursery had much room for all the children to have one dangling over them." She overheard the vendor speaking about what people do with the items and chuckles softly under her breath. "Then again, maybe we'll have a couple hanging over cots in the barracks?" The merchant hastily assures Khorde, "Some of them. The /simpler/ ones. I think the Weyrleader here is intending to hang his on his dragon's ledge, though, where everyone can enjoy them-- isn't that right?" She gives K'del a hasty, hopeful smile, and the Weyrleader hurriedly nods his agreement. Not just for children, oh no. Really! They're all grouped around a stall that sells mobiles, K'del playing escort for several of the exiles. "Toys are fun," he confirms, cheerfully. "Did--" He hesitates. "I could give you an advance on your stipend," he offers, quietly, with a hesitant glance around as though to make sure that he's not suddenly flocked by /everyone/. "It might be a long time before you can get to another gather. Particularly if you Impress." The sight of dragons arriving and leaving from Weyrs other than High Reaches is not at all unusual; the most recent being a group from Fort Weyr. There's a mix of riders, a couple of weyrlings, and a few residents amongst the group- several of which immediately split off towards the food, or towards the dance tables. Ali probably stands out, if only because she looks so awkwardly uncomfortable in the dark red dress she's wearing, fingers brushing and adjusting as if unused to wearing it. She's got a brown shawl draped around her shoulders, and she draws it closer in deference to the slightly cooler weather this far north, before getting her bearings and plunging - somewhat hesitantly - into the bustle of people perusing the stalls. Khorde takes this time, now that Judgmental Face (aka Rhaelyn) has entered the picture, to blend into the scenery. He dissolves into immaterial status soon after -- or, you know, slips trickily away from the group, lest he disappoint or embarass daddy-dawg K'del yet again. Where is he going? That... that is a good question. Away from the group, that's for sure! There is a Firm nod from Nat at Emme's assertion, and a wide grin for the harper. "Exactly!" At the concerned look Nat just shrugs, If Rhaelyn is looking for an ulterior motive she isn't going to find one. She can't help but giggle a bit as the merchant offers her wares, and there's a warm smile for K'del. "I think a quilt and a stuffed animal for Aella though, don't you think Rhaelyn?" The girl decides finally. "most of these are going to be out of my price range for a while if I impress." Emmeline either didn't hear Rhae's comment and see her smirk, or she is making her best effort to ignore the other woman's subtle sniping. Even if the chimes /are/ just for children she likes them anyway. Hey, where'd Khorde go? There's a pause when she looks around as if trying to figure out what happened to the other exile, and then she's back to staring and poking at the noisy things. K'del's offer startles her, it seems, since she blinks owlishly at him for a moment. He does have a point though, about future gathers. And, as it would be foolish of her to refuse she smiles brightly. "I'd really appreciate that." she agrees, keeping her voice just as quiet. Rhaelyn judges and convicts Khorde to his departure? Nah, the dark haired girl is only mingling around among the spinning, whirling items on display here with vague interest. "I wish we could have had things like that when we were children. Stuffed toys. All we had was rocks and sticks." Wait until she's telling that story a few turns from now!! Answering Nat she nods her head, "I think Aella would love that, particularly if it's dragon-like." She may hear the offer the Weyrleader makes to Emmeline, but aside from the lingering look towards them, nothing is said, or done. Almost certainly, Cadejoth has extended a cheerful greeting to those visiting Fort dragons, even if this isn't /actually/ his home territory. Perhaps that's why K'del glances up from the mobiles to look around, evidently looking - but not immediately finding - for these new faces in the crowd. He's full of smiles for everyone, in the meantime, particularly as he reaches into his belt-pouch to draw out the requisite amount for Emmeline's mobile. It might be a bribe of sorts. It's hard to tell what his intentions are: he just seems so lazily content. "Then it's a done deal," he tells her, firmly. "Though I'll have to keep it for you until you pay me back, just to be sure." Ali's drawn by the chatter of people near to the mobile stall, their talk eliciting a small frown and a hint of hesitation from the Fortian. While the group of Reachians debate, the woman edges in, peering at all the various displays, then asks the stall holder, "I'm looking for something suitable for a young child-" she half turns, as if suddenly aware she might've pushed in. "Sorry, are you-?" she gestures towards the stall, taking a step back as if to wait her turn, before her gaze flickers between the various women and then K'del. The latter earns a slight widening of eyes and she dips into a curtsy, done so elegantly it's obvious she's had a lot of practice. "Fort's duties to the Reaches." Nathalia notes the exit of the male but shrugs it off. She does however note K'del paying for the mobile, and eyes the Weyrleader with a mixture of curiosity and puzzlement. Whatever else she might have said or done Rhaelyn's response gets an almost wolfish grin from the girl. "That settles it then, Lets find a weaver stall It looks like it will be stuffed dragons for both you and Aella!" Because everyone deserves to have a stuffed animal all their own right? She was about to ask someone where the nearest one was when the Fortian rider made her greeting. "Of course. That's fine!" Apparently, the harper-candidate could care less that she won't be in actual posession of the mobile until she can pay back the money. She's happy enough to know that in a few months it will be hers. It just doesn't occur to Emmeline that anyone could see something untoward in the offer. Not yet. Give her a few hours when she's had time to process the lingering look Rhaelyn gave and then she'll be worried. Ali's entrance at the mobile, and her particular manner of greeting, does earn a curious smile though. But she'll likely be far too busy being enchanted by the new purchase to be very talkative for the next while. The 'exchange' may not get remarked upon, but Rhaelyn's sharp eyes are recording it all. For later. YOu know, with the right ears to fill the juice bits to! Oh yes, she knows about the weyr's 'give and take' *ahem* system. She might just stand there watching except for Nathalia's voice makes listening in too difficult and with a heavy sigh she turns back to the smith-candidate. "That sounds gre...wait. Wait. What?" She must not be hearing this right. If she noticed the Fort rider coming in, she doesn't make note of it, scowling at Nat as she is. Busy wrapping up Emmeline's purchase with deft fingers, the merchant lifts her head to smile winningly at Ali, head shaking hurriedly as if to excuse - or assure away - the interruption. "Not at all--" she begins, cutting off as the weyrling executes that curtsey, leaving K'del looking briefly awkward, though not, for once, blushing. He studies Ali a moment, then gives her a short half-bow, accompanied with: "And High Reaches' to Fort, too, of course. We were just finishing, I think-- she's all yours." Indeed, the merchant is ready to hand the package over, which K'del tucks safely under his arm. It's a distraction: enough that he misses any glances aimed in his direction. Ali's totally oblivious to the nuances going around, though it'd be hard to ignore the sudden silence of K'del's harem and the exchange of looks between the girls. It's a good bet that she probably misinterprets the meaning of it, judging by the sudden fluster of color that touches her. "Thank you, sir," she murmurs after a moment, stepping in to barter with the merchant. Indeed Nathalia is now on a mission of dire importance, and the smith makes to grab Rhaelyn's wrist and drag her along spotting such a stall. "You heard me," The smith grins, her wine induced cheerfullness making it far too easy to ignore the scowl. She offers a wave to K'del and the other rider, grinning like a feline with an avian in its teeth. Rhaelyn is grabbed. She's even pulled out, her wine sloshing in her glass, "Careful!" The exile barks, almost tripping but at least the drink doesn't spill. Phew! "You better not be getting anything for..." For whatever reason, she doesn't think to yank her arm away, she just falls in step with that crazy Nathalia, leaving K'del without his women-folks-followers! The dark haired girl might even give Ali a look--but then she's out of the booth. K'del's gaze follows the departure of Nathalia and Rhaelyn quizzically, as though he's not entirely sure what happened. When he glances back, he's suddenly well aware of Ali's fluster, and looks awful for it, hastily stepping forward to stand alongside her as she barters. "You're Ali, aren't you? I saw you Impress at Fort. Cadejoth says she's growing well, your queen." The merchant seems /terribly/ tickled by that piece of information: a repeat-visit Weyrleader, /and/ a goldrider - even a weyrling one, all in one afternoon! The sudden departure of the other girls goes unnoticed initially by Ali, who is driving a hard bargain indeed. K'del's sudden mention of her name earns a surprised glance, and a quick smile- as much for the mention of her dragon as her name. "Yes, sir. Isyath- she's bigger than most blues now, and still growing strong," and there's that note that all riders have when talking about their dragons, fondness and pride all rolled into one. There's a slight pause, like she seems flustered at the idea he was at the Hatching. Or maybe just because she's noticed the disappearance of his harem. "I've heard your clutch is hardening well, sir. I'm hoping we can attend, if you think your queens would be amenable." Protests are clearly ignored, as Nat enters the stall. Brightly colored quilts hang over the walls in various colors and patterns while a large assortment of stuffed creatures sit in a pile on the table. The Crafter brightens and waves at the two visitors and Nat momentarily relinquishes her captive to start browsing the wears. "Lets see now, oh I know Sir you don't by chance have any stuffed dragons do you? I am also looking for a dragon quilt a big thick one." Nat enquires looking back to Rhaelyn. "K'del," corrects the bearer of that name, just lightly, still smiling. "We're at pleasure, not work, surely. Isyath's a lovely name." If he's amused by her fluster, again, it doesn't show in more than the crinkle of his smile; he adds, instead, "We'd be delighted to have you there. Iovniath's been-- protective of her clutch, it's true, but when it comes to them hatching, I reckon the more the merrier." There's a beat, before he adds, "We'll have a new goldrider, afterwards. If your weyrleaders don't mind, it might be nice if we could borrow you to--" He hesitates. "help her adjust? Since you'll have been through something similar, so recently." Celadion has been at the gather all day. His guard, er, escort, er watcher looks worn thin as he trails after the dark skinned exile. Down one end of the gather and back up to the front they go, but there's no stop at any of the booths. "Listen, if you're just going to walk back and forth, I should just take you home." The rider finally says, growing weary of his short-straw draw. "I could at least be following some girl around." Cela does stop, looking back at the rider, "I thought this is what we were supposed to do." Walk the gather right? Rhaelyn rolls her eyes only once she's coming into that stall with Nat. Then she shakes off any hands grasping at her. She hisses at the candidate as she comes in closer, "I'm not -doing- anything for that." Just to make it plain right? "I don't want any 'misunderstandings'. I know how these things work." There, that should save her from the embarrassment right? NOw she can go and look at the various stuffed toys. Ali nods her head as if to confirm K'del's name, though there's a flush of apology. "If I get caught calling a foreign Weyrleader by his first name, we'd be on dawn starstones duties for /another/ sevenday. She- Issy, that is- is cranky enough as is." Her attention is drawn back to the merchant as she leans over to pay the agreed price, accepting the wrapped package with a murmur of thanks. Tucking it under her arm, she readjusts her shawl, first surprise, then pleasure crossing her features. "I would love to," she's quick to agree, "I'm sure Weyrwoman Hattie wouldn't mind at all. Hopefully by then, /I/ would have adjusted," she adds, with a smile. Nathalia eyes Rhaelyn with the most puzzled expression possible. "I didn't ask you to /do/ anything, Shards and shells woman." The confused reply escapes her. "How what things work exactly?" she asks eyeing the Islander. Rhaelyn picks up a stuffed crab from the table with an 'oh look at this' look on her face, "Rilka would love this." But then here comes Ylynna, having spotted Rhae being drawn into the both. "There you are. Come now." There's a disgusted look at the toys before motioning for Rhae, "Lady Muni and Unma's ladies would like to have a look at you. Our, civilized exile." If people thought Rhae was a bitch, Ylynna has disregarding people down to an art. The exile drops the crab onto the pile and grits her teeth. Still, this was the deal she must have made. "I'll catch up with you later Nat." And with that the exile is lead away for more people to gawk at. K'del's eyebrows raise at '/another/ sevenday', and he can't help but smile, remarking, "She sounds as restless as Cadejoth always was. Is. I'll let you forego the name, then." He gives the merchant - a very pleased merchant - another bright smile as the transaction is concluded, though most of his attention remains about Ali herself. Congenially; "Excellent. It-- I hope you will have. It's a difficult transition, from what I can see. We've plenty of other weyrwomen, of course, but even Teris has been riding four turns, now, and she was Tiriana's assistant before that; it's different." "Staying still is definitely not her strength," Ali laughs, fondness warming her voice. "It's relieving to know I'm not the only one. But also worrying that they don't always grow out of it. She, uh-" the Fortian pauses a bit, shifting her weight, before confessing, "-scared quite a few of the Fort Holders by trying to peek into their windows. Trying to explain that she was just curious didn't go down so well." A warm laugh accompanies the explanation, but there's a hint of lingering embarrassment at the incident, too. She chews her lip slowly, then nods at K'del's talk of his weyrwomen. "I'd never been to a Weyr before, so it's a- an ongoing adjustment. Weyrwoman Hattie is very patient with me." Now that her purchase is tucked safely under her arm, her gaze darts towards the exit. "Would you- I'd like to get something to drink, if you don't mind?" Celadion slows enough to watch the exile being drawn away and walks over to see what was going on within the booth. "Thank goodness." His guard breaths as the pacing through the isles stops. The holder candidate must be just itching for a beating, cause even /Rhaelyn/ doesn't deserve being talked to like that, But the exile is ferreted off before the candidate can so much as blink. "Bloods" She spits, before quickly making her selections, deciding to go back to the people /she/ considers /civilized/, and with a stuffed bronze, and gold dragon and a dragon patterned quilt under arm, she makes her way back toward the weyrleader, but Celadion gets her attention first, and a not so happy wave is offered, though not out of any dislike for the Islander male. "If it helps," K'del is quick to assure, "Cadejoth is much better now than when he was little. He couldn't stand being left behind - couldn't /stand/ not being involved in anything I was doing. He'd be better still if I weren't Weyrleader, I think, just because he'd get more chances to go out and fly; he doesn't really like that I've always got things to do." His voice is warm, too, when talking about his life mate, his expression utterly fond. Understanding, too, can be found there, as he flicks back to: "It's good that she is; it's a big change from a Hold, that's for sure." Beat. "Oh-- er, did you want me to leave you to it? Or-- join you?" It's his turn to be uncertain. "It does, actually," Ali assures, with a grateful smile to K'del. "Issy doesn't mind being alone so much- she always manages to draw some other dragon into whatever game she got in her head. Even some of the older ones." Rueful resignation is visible in her smile, though finding the similarity in K'del answer appears to have eased her earlier awkward hesitancy. "I- yes, I'd love the company, sir. And the guide, more honestly. I'd probably end up wandering the gather aimlessly otherwise." She hasn't yet noticed Nathalia heading back in their direction, not familiar enough with the woman yet to recognize her. "Shards and Shells, can't a person just be nice around here without something going impossibly wrong?" Nat mutters as she approaches the pair, looking up and perhaps catching some of the conversation she smiles a bit sheepishly at K'del. "Sorry er Miss, Er Sir. . . I can uh . . . make myself scarce." Maybe she's not reading things correctly, probably not from that blush, but incase she is she seems ready to make off in whatever direction her own escort got off to. "In that case," says K'del, breezily, "I'm surprised she and Cadejoth haven't worked something up between them already. Though I think he's a bit distracted; he doesn't like being away from the eggs at the moment, even though he /knows/ it's important to make an appearance here." He seems genuinely pleased by her admission, and is just about to indicate the way forward when Nathalia approaches, and his attention shifts towards her, instead. "Hmm? Oh - no, not at all. Nathalia, isn't it?" He must have found /that/ out from somewhere. "Nathalia, this is Ali, from Fort. Ali, this is one of our candidates, Nathalia. We were just going to go get a drink." And by his tone, she's welcome to join them. "No, she's-" Ali's brief pause is likely attributed to embarrassment. "-back at Fort. One of the assistant weyrlingmasters was kind enough to give me a lift. I've- never been to a gather, and she's-" she breaks off, and is thankfully spared from any further stumbling explanation by Nathalia's arrival, and so she turns her smile on the candidate. "A pleasure, Nathalia. I was just telling your Weyrleader I'm hoping to be able to make it to the Hatching." She, too, nods in agreement with the invitation for Nathalia to join them. Nathalia grins pleasantly at the girl. "Well met Ali of Fort." She offers with about as much manners as the smith has. She does seem a little surprised to be called by her full name but she just seems content at the moment to tag along. "If you both don't mind." She remarks with a smile. "How's fort doing these days?" K'del's turn to look embarrassed, too, then, gaze creeping down towards his packages - or maybe his feet - rather than focus upon Ali herself. "Of course," he murmurs, hastily. "I should have realised." At least having Nathalia there is a good distraction, and amidst all of that, he's leading the way off towards the drinks servers. "It should be a good hatching, I think. Have you actually watched one, Ali? Aside from the one you Impressed at?" "Well, thank you," Ali replies, visibly pleased to be asked about her Weyr, and no doubt grateful for the distraction, too. "The Weyr's mostly recovered from the herdbeast plague we had- which is a good thing, since Issy was getting pretty tired of wherry. A little too stringy, she says," the goldrider gives a wry sort of smile as she falls into step with the two Reachians. She shakes her head at K'del's question, "Never," she confesses, "So I was terrified at mine. If it weren't for T'mitl I probably would've run screaming," there's a ruefulness that hints at a little exaggeration, but it's also probably not that far off the truth. "I'd- I'd heard something about one of your eggs getting damaged. But I'm sure that was just a rumor...?" she glances between her two new companions. Either Nat doesn't notice the Awkwardness from the pair, or is blatantly ignoring it, but the smith it seems is determined to enjoy the gather. She seems a bit puzzled by K'del's comment though. "There's a such thing as a bad hatching?" a little mischief in her smile at that. "It will be interesting I think, to say the very least." What exactly she means by interesting remains unsaid. There is a very large frown at mention of the damaged egg. "It will be fine, best shelling one of the lot too." The girl asserts almost in a whisper, more to herself than anyone, though she listens to see what the bronze rider has to say on the subject. "I'm glad to hear that," says K'del, firmly. "Nasty thing, that plague of yours. I'm terribly relieved it didn't quite make it as far as our borders." Sympathetically, as he weaves through the crowds, he adds, "It was the same for me, when I Impressed. Won't say I was terrified, but--" His expression twists. "Maybe I ought to have been. What about you?" That's to Nathalia, curious, idly, though rather than waiting for a response, he adds, "Not a rumour, unfortunately. The shell is hardening in a peculiar way - with a dent. We hope it will be fine, but it'll be impossible to know until it hatches. That's part of the reason Iovniath is so-- edgy, I think. And Cadejoth, too." At the candidate's words, Ali's eyes widen. "So it was true?" she says, visibly shocked, glancing towards K'del for confirmation, a hand lifting to her mouth for a moment. "That must be- I'm sorry to hear that," she finally says, obviously unsettled. "Yes, I can certainly understand why they'd be edgy. Even Elaruth was nervous about her eggs, and no one had damaged them." She walks on in silence for a moment, adjusting her shawl and giving her a moment to compose herself, glancing towards Nathalia to hear her response to K'del's question. "Wherry gets old kinda quick." Nathalia agrees. At K'del's question she seems both thoughtful and honest. "I actually considered packing up and heading back to the hall before the hatching. . . but Warucori convinced me to stay." As the damaged egg is discussed the small smith just frowns, apparently sticking by her earlier assertion as illogical as it may be. "I may not know tunnel snakes from firelizards when it comes to eggs, but it seems to me a lot of people are betting on that egg to hatch the best one of the lot." She certainly is, "Ivoniath and Cadejoth being the dragons I have heard about, I wouldn't expect their offspring to be too fragile." K'del's gaze tracks Ali as she composes herself, briefly, but he rapidly turns his attention back towards Nathalia, expressing curving into a rueful smile. "Warucori mentioned that. I'm glad you decided to stay," he remarks, levelly, leaving that particular topic at that and adding, instead, "Hope you're right, on the egg. Impossible to know right now, frankly - it might not hatch at all. It might hatch fine. It might be hurt. These things do happen." Glancing back at Ali, he adds, "It's rare, though. This was an accident. It'll be fine." Even if he doesn't seem to /entirely/ believe that. "At least Isyath is quick to forget. I'm not so lucky," Ali adds with a laugh. "I'm planning to eat my fill of herdbeast tonight- just for the novelty of it," she confesses. She nods, slowly, at Nathalia's admission of nearly leaving. "I did, too. I missed my family, and being in a Weyr was so- uncomfortable, for me. I'm glad I didn't, though," she adds, with a warm sort of smile that hints of thoughts of her lifemate. The smile fades, however, at the topic at hand. "One of the eggs from Elaruth's clutch didn't hatch. I didn't see it, but I heard, later. It's a boon, I think, that the dragon's don't recall for long." She moves closer to the other two as the crowds grow bigger as they near where the food and drinks are being served. The girl lifts that chin up to look the man in the eye when he mentions Warucori, and just studies him a moment. This isn't the time or place to discuss that however. "Haven't lost a bet yet that I didn't mean to lose. I don't mean to lose on this one either." Not that Nathalia has anything to do with whether or not a dragon egg hatches after all. At mention of accidents she just quiets. Happy when Ali speaks up, she continues following along. "I was told that didn't happen very often by one of the Riders who works with Weyrlings." She notes with a sad tone. "Are their memories really that short?" She enquires. "They really are that short," confirms K'del. "They tend to remember really important things, but-- not a lot of things." He works his way through the crowd towards the end of the queue at the drinks stall, glancing from one woman to the other before he adds, "It doesn't happen often, no. Thankfully. It would break /my/ heart to see." His expression has gone serious at the thought of it; he turns away, hurriedly, considering the menu blazoned far above the stall they're standing in front of. "Wine, ladies?" "Elaruth had a- she and the former junior fought, so it wasn't a- a normal flight," Ali explains hesitantly after a moment, probably due to the subject matter. At Nathalia's question, she flashes a smile, somewhat wry as she adds on the heels of K'del's words, "It depends on how much impact it has on them, too. Things that are more important to Isyath, she remembers for longer. It's sometimes frustrating, but it's normally for the best." She hesitates for a moment at the offer of wine, but then nods her head in concession. "Please. I don't- I don't drink much, so I'd welcome whatever you recommend." There is a definite nod from the smith at mention of wine. "Yes please." And she seems thoughtful a moment, remembering the toy stall earlier. "That was very kind, what you did for Emmeline." She notes, apparently /she/ hadn't thought anything scandalous of the transaction. "I am glad that so many of the Islanders are standing." She adds. As Ali speaks she again frowns, but it's not so much sad as thoughtful. "I do not think I would want to ride gold. At least at Reaches it seems to make you. . . Scary?" she notes, though a grin follows for Ali. K'del's expression turns unhappy at mention of those fateful flights, though he makes no comment on it. Instead: "Wine it is," as he moves forward in the queue. Mention of Emmeline makes him duck his head, though he says, after a moment, "Seemed like the right thing to do. Just hope no one takes exception to it." He'll leave the rest of the conversation to the two women for the moment, however: he's stepping forward to order the drinks, returning, a few moments later, with two glasses of white wine along with a mug of foaming beer for himself. "Scary?" Ali echoes, looking surprised. "No, I- I don't think so. Well, not at Fort. I mean- I found Weyrwoman Hattie very intimidating at first, but once you get to know her-" she hesitates, then smiles, "I don't think I'm very scary- am I?" She's quiet at the Reachian's exchange, though something Nathalia says earns a furrow of brow. "Islanders? Is that- the exiles? They're here?" the raven-haired Fortian glances around as if expecting them to be obvious enough to stand out at a glance, a hint of anxiousness in the look. As she's offered the wine, she reaches up with her free hand to accept it, bestowing a grateful smile on K'del in thanks, though doesn't immediately take a sip. Nathalia laughs, and it's a warm rich sound too. "No not at all, then again I haven't managed to accidentally offend you yet either." She gratefully accepts the wine with a smile. "Thank you very much." She seems thoughtful a moment, Nat frowns at the word exile but there is a small nod. "You probably saw them earlier there were a bunch at the toy stall. These are for my friend Elgin's little sister," She indicates the parcels under arm. "He's also from the Island, though I haven't seen him tonight." "They're harmless," K'del assures Ali, hurriedly. "Honestly, they've all been really good, today, seems like." Which makes them sound like children, or maybe puppies. "And you don't seem scary at all, honestly." He wraps his hands around his mug, now that they're free enough to do so, and adds, "Hattie seems intimidating to me, too, sometimes. Cirse was worse. She terrified me when I was a weyrling and I accidentally, uh, crashed her flight." Guilty smile, even after all these turns. Ali exhales a pleased little laugh. "I'm glad. I'd had for someone to report to my Weyrwoman I was scary. Not that she'd probably believe it anyway." Dutifully, if anything, she sips at the wine, seems surprised at the taste, and takes another small sip. "I- didn't even notice," she admits, as to the mention of the islanders. "The way people have been talking, I was expecting them to- I don't know, all be seven feet tall, and wearing the skins of freshly killed canines or something." She bites her lower lip, but can't quite keep a little giggle from escaping her at K'del's confession. "Oh, I'm so glad I'm not the only one! I never knew Cirse," she admits. "She's down at Southern these days- enjoying the warm weather, no doubt." Nat may not completely agree with the word harmless, but she keeps that to herself as she listens to the weyr leader. "Crashed her flight?" a lift of those thick brows, in surprise. Nat looks a little shocked though as Ali talks about the islanders. "How have people been talking exactly? I mean sure some are about as prickly as an Igen cactus but they are just people same as anyone else." The girl seems very curious as to what the outside world has to say on the matter. "I think they'd be more interested in frills and lace, as far as I can tell, than animal skins," laughs K'del, with a vague glance around the immediate crowd. "They're the over-awed ones, mostly. Though I guess there's plenty of people like that, around a gather like this. People talk, Nathalia - that's all. Rumours." He grins at Ali's giggle, shifting awkwardly as he admits, to the pair of them, "Cadejoth's first time chasing another dragon was with Cirse's Peirith. A leadership flight. It figures, right?" Six months later... Well. "Reckon I'd enjoy Southern, too, after the winter we had." "Well, you know rumors," Ali murmurs, and judging by the way she shifts, readjusting her shawl, she seems a tad uncomfortable. "I mean, I doubt anyone would give it any credit, except that they haven't been out of High Reaches before... today." And she's looking over her shoulder again. It's an involuntary gesture, the sort of reaction you do when you get a shiver down your spine. And when you're not that adept at covering your discomfort. "But I'm sure," she says hastily, with an apologetic look to K'del, "Now that they've been spotted here, all those rumors will die down." She shakes her head in silent surprise. "As a weyrling? That must have been- very off-putting. I must say, I'm grateful I don't have to worry about that sort of thing for at least another Turn. Cadejoth, at least, seems to have done well for himself, in the end," she adds, with a smile, taking another sip of her wine. Nathalia laughs, frills and lace indeed. "I don't think I have had that much fun looking at wind chimes and Mobiles in a long time." The smith notes. At talk of rumors she just shrugs. "I don't think there's much merit to them, but I haven't been outside reaches in months. I was just curious is all." Nat studies the woman a moment, but doesn't say anything else on the matter. On the topic of flights it seems she has not much else to say either save, "That is one part of impressing I do not look forward to, I hope if I impress, its a male. More fun to chase than to be chased." Lightly, "Guess that's part of the reason we decided to get them all out here today: a chance for the rest of Pern to see them, too. I hope so, though." Those rumours, dying down is what he seems to mean by that. K'del shifts his mug from one hand to the other, admitting, "It was. Offputting and... awkward, mostly. He's a bit precocious, like that." His expression turns amused for Nathalia's addition, but before he can put anything else into the conversation, his expression turns vague. After a moment: "I'm sorry. I'm being called back to the weyr for something. If you'll both excuse me?" "Have you spent much time with them, then?" Ali asks Nathalia, curiously. The Fortian chuckles sympathetically at K'del's explanation. She looks about to add something, then pauses as she catches sight of the Weyrleader's expression. Ali gestures as if to clear the way for K'del, "Please, don't let me stop you. I've dominated your time; you've been more than kind. It was lovely to meet you, sir. And thank you, for the drink," she adds, with a grateful smile and a lift of the half drunk glass. Nat just shrugs, though the talk of flights does not endear her to the thought. Instead she offers a wave. "Thanks for the wine." At Ali's question Nat nods. "I spend quite a bit of time with a few of them, You should meet Elgin or Emmeline sometime, they are both very nice." She notes. "I should probably find my escort though. It was lovely talking with you Ali, I hope to see you again before, if not at the hatching." She smiles downing the last of her wine rather quickly. "And you, too," says K'del, apparently genuine, pausing to smile brightly at both women before he sweeps off into the crowd, his bundles still tucked carefully under one arm. Ali murmurs faintly under her breath, like she's repeating the names so she won't forget them. "I- I don't know if that's such a good idea," she says, hesitantly, at the idea of meeting the exiles. "You're escort?" there's surprise as she echoes that, though she merely nods her head. "I do plan to be there, barring other responsibilities. Good evening, Nathalia," she smiles at the candidate, then drifts over to join a group of Fortian riders that have sat down to eat.

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