Logs:The Party Afterwards
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| RL Date: 12 August, 2011 |
| Who: Einrhi, Jaques, Nathalia, Sullivan, Ali, Iolene |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Famished now, Iolene goes to find food and instead finds humiliation and spends her entire first night as a dragonrider crying into her pillow. |
| Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 6, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
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| Iolene ignored people. Ignored dragons. Iolene needs to /eat/, so she makes a mad dash after Ysavaeth falls asleep to go find food that is not cake. There's a surprisingly warm smile for the male, and the former candidate nods. "Nathalia that's right Smith Crafter and now apparently former candidate." She offers with an almost too cheerful laugh. "Well met Einrhi," There's a smile for the new arrival as well, and a passing glance for the /newest/ gold rider of Reaches. The smith catches a goblet of wine from somewhere and takes a long sip. Jaques heads in from the bowl. Jaques has arrived. "I didn't." Einrhi's response comes with a faint twist of lips, "It didn't seem pertinent at the time." And still the question remains unanswered. "And you Nathalia." Sullivan's arrival earns a brief nod, but it's Iolene's entrance that seems to catch the young man's attention for the time being - watching the newly minted goldrider's dash of madness to food with amusement. Ali's explanation of her experience on the sands eventually filters through, and his attention shifts back to the growing circle of people near him, "Not particularly, but I've never experienced that sort of thing, so I'll take your word for it." A smile following. Ali's gaze lingers on Einrhi, and when her question goes unanswered, twists her lips in mild vexation. "Well, I'm told it's quite different for those that are weyrbred," she picks up the thread of conversation after just a moment of awkward silence. There's a welcoming smile for Sullivan, "Nothing to excuse- we're interlopers ourselves," she says with a low laugh. "Though I suppose Nathalia is a local, so-" she tips her head towards the smith. She hasn't noticed Iolene's dash inside yet, instead sipping from her goblet, craning her neck to peer at the long queue for food. "How long do you think it will take for the feasting line to drop down? Should we queue with our drinks?" Iolene is somehow, through the magic of her smiles and big sad little eyes, able to get herself to the front of the line for food and is suddenly really happy with a giant plant with mashed potatoes and roast beef. Ysavaeth is sleeping /and/ well fed to boot, despite Seani's death, and Io gets to eat. EAT! Finally. Something that is not dairy or cake. And with her giant plant of food, she manages to walk past Ali and, Einrhi and crew with just a nod. Food takes precedence over being friendly, or even polite. Sullivan's smile lingers for Ali's response, quirks a little as if that's all the reply needed and then his attention strays to the others immediately surrounding him. If there's something like fondness in his expression while Einrhi speaks, or during Iolene's direct bypass, just forgive him. It doesn't take a lot to lift his voice enough to be heard, not because it is loud but because he speaks in a way that is suddenly very direct, and this is surely for Ali because, well, she made the suggestion. "I think it's the long standing tradition of things that as soon as we get up, someone will take our place who was in the line, leaving us with no seats but a shorter wait." His hands weigh the two invisible options in the air. Nathalia can't help but offer a laugh at being called a local. "Well I got transferred in the day of the clutching party, though the Hall says I am to remained stationed here for another four turns." She studies Einrhi with muted amusement as he follows the gold rider, and Ali's vexation. "What's different for those who are Weyr bred?" She asks with mild curiosity smoothing the silk of her dress. There is a laugh for Sullivan though. "Isn't that just a universal truth or something at this point?" There's less smiling from Jaques, but that's hardly unusual; but more than just thoughtful tonight, he looks downright troubled. It doesn't stop him from getting a plate, and, with a glimpse of blonde hair and piled-high food to lead him on, he sets out after Iolene first of all. Sliding near the group of Ali and company himself, he ventures, "Io?" when he seems to think he's about to lose her in the crowd. It's a good thing her food is on a plate which is now on a table cause the interruption of Jaques is cause for Iolene to hurtle herself into the former exile's arms. "Oh, /Jaques/." Please don't mind the melodrama. She's seventeen and famished and in a whirlwind of emotions. Ohnoes! Vexation from the Weyrwoman! Einrhi may or may not have noted such a response from Ali, nothing from him can confirm or deny it. "I'm not sure that I am well equipped enough to make it through the line quite as well as the new weyrling did I'm afraid." He takes a moment to finish draining his mug, finding somewhere close to stash it should be require a refill. "Do you have any preference?" The question is asked of Ali, his head tilting to one side, before his gaze expands to include the others, "I can brave the lines for a plate or two of something." "Standing," Ali answers Nathalia's query, first. "I- didn't have a very strong idea of what to expect. I'd guess most weyrbred folk would've been to several hatchings before as spectators if nothing else." Sullivan's comment just earns a faint grimace in acknowledgement and a wistful sigh, especially as the scent of Iolene's meal drifts towards them. She might even be eyeing the newly-made-weyrling's plate a little enviously too, before she catches herself. Instead, she gestures to one of the imaginary scales, "I'd much rather have a seat. I- standing and eating is far too awkward. But that's just me," she allows, settling for another sip from her goblet for now. Einrhi's offer earns a brilliant smile from the Fortian woman. "Anything at all would be lovely. Herdbeast, if they have it. Cookies." Yes, she just might go on with new suggestions the longer he stands there. One of Sullivan's hands turns in favor of Nathalia's rhetorical, allowing the affirmative. Yes, it is a universal truth. He puts the scales away but clasping his fingers loosely and reclines in his chair while still maintaining perfect posture in an effortless sort of way. He's wandered again, to where Iolene clings to Jagues, a sight that tilts his head. "Poor thing," is his assessment. As for food, re: Einrhi's offer, his silence might be enough of an answer. It's all Jaques can do not to fall over when he's hit, and he barely saves his own dinner from making a mess everywhere by sliding it onto the nearest table. "Io," he repeats then, sliding his arms around her, too. His dark eyes are worried, his hold unusually tight. "Are you okay? Have you seen Evie?" Nathalia offers a shrug, she can certainly fend for herself. It's at Ali's response that the girl nods quietly. She smiles for Sullivan, though the two new riders are only mildly paid attention to. After all they were likely quite tired from tending their beasts. "Evie?" For a moment, Io's breath is taken away as she holds it to try and remember. It takes all her muscles to try and do one thing while doing another. She's not good at multi-tasking right now. Ysavaeth has taken all her mental capacity to do anything other than focus on one thing at a time. "Evie. Right. Evie. I don't know. Do you know where Dev is?" There's a mix of euphoria and sudden uncertainty. Things have changed, though much of it hasn't sunk into the bewildered weyrling's head. "Herdbeast and.. cookies?" Einrhi gives Ali a somewhat dubious look when provided with the preferential list of foods. Giving his shoulders a roll before he heads off to brave the line, there's a small popping noise and a look of relief passes briefly over his features, "Ahh, better." When no other suggestions are pro-offered, he tilts his head briefly in acknowledgement and heads out to face the throng of consumers already ahead of him. Ali bobs her head in silent confirmation of her request, gratitude in her gaze as she briefly follows Einrhi's departure from the table. Then she leans forward a little, fingers curving around her cup as she says to Nathalia, "I looked for that friend of yours. The exile. I thought I saw her on the sands, but she said she wasn't a candidate?" Her gaze drifts towards Einrhi again, then back to the casually posed Sullivan, and as if only just recalling her manners, says, "I'm Ali, of Fort. You look-" she pauses to chew lower lip in a moment's contemplation, "-familiar. Are you from Fort?" Jaques's grip on Iolene loosens, and he takes a slight step back so he can peer around the room for a tell-tale blonde. No luck, not in the crowds in the caverns now. "I need to find her," he tells the younger girl. "Greshaith--Seani--. I have to--" It's only fragmented thoughts that he can manage, too, though her latter question earns a sharp look, unusually so for him. "You don't need to worry about him right now." There is a splendid drama unfolding before him and Sullivan does not seem immune to the fact. His stare at least isn't the intense stare of someone simply watching, waiting, his is the curious, respectful stare of someone who is interested in what might be happening in the heads of the people he's staring at. It would probably be more aptly named a study. Sullivan's study turns from Iolene and Jaques to Ali, but only when it becomes clear she's speaking to him when nobody else answers. "Oh, yes. Sullivan, sorry. I am. I've been lingering around the area my whole life, I'm afraid it can't get rid of me. I'm only here in an unofficial," a glance down makes sure he in fact isn't wearing a knot, "capacity. I'm from Healer Hall." Content for the moment, to watch the exchanges going on around her, and really having very little to say of her own she slips quietly into the empty seat near Sullivan. It is Ali's statement though that makes the smith nod. "She wasn't, she slipped in. I had asked to see if she could stand, but because of the incident that probably caused the malformation on that green. . ." there's a shiver from the smith as she looks to Ali with a shrug. Sullivan though as he introduces himself gets a smile. "Well met Sullivan. You a Journeyman then?" "Seani." And suddenly Iolene's world collapses and she sits heavily in her sit. It's not such a tragic collapse that she forgets to spoon mashed potatoes into her mouth and so a big mound of potatoes is shoved into her mouth. It doesn't require chewing and Io just sucks it down quietly. "Seani. Do you know what happened? I mean. Do you? Ysavaeth doesn't know she doesn't understand and something that happened that made her go really quiet about it. Is Seani really...? Is she?" "Oh." If anything, the answer earns a fluster of color from Ali as the Healer Hall is mentioned. Maybe it has something to do with that incident a month or two back to do with a gold dragon at the Hold. Totally nothing to do with Ali, though. She seems grateful of the distraction from that particular topic. "Slipped in? How can a someone just become a candidate. I thought they had to be searched?" Oddly enough, she looks at her tablemates for assistance, despite her knot. Her gaze drifts to Iolene's plate, contemplative, though she's probably not even aware of the gesture. Away from the sudden unfolding of tenser topics, Einrhi cranes his neck to gain better vantage of the feasts laid out. Foot tapping seems to unconsciously start as the line doesn't seem to be particularly inclined to move forward just yet. Jaques doesn't quite sit, but he does sag against the table. His own meal goes uneaten, even if the ravenous Iolene can still get something down. "Greshaith doesn't know, either," he answers. "Let's, let's not jump to conclusions, yet. She might not really be--be /gone/. Only, Evie... I forgot her," is the quiet admission. "I saw Greshaith, and I forgot her." It is very difficult to tell whether or not Sullivan catches on to Ali's sudden flush, he has a very good diplomatic face, and when she changes the subject he goes along because they weren't really even talking about anything, were they. To Nathalia though, an answer, "Indeed. I'm actually looking into a more permanent posting that should take effect any day now." And then he goes back to people-watching, because there are a lot of those around right now. Nathalia nods. "Wasn't supposed to be on those sands, but I am glad she was." Yes she could be happy for her friends, and she was. "Well the Islanders have been staying in the Candidate barracks. Only place with enough room for them. The place is nearly empty now though." Nat points out, sipping her wine delicately. She seems thoughtful at Sullivan's addition. "Here at the weyr?" She asks him. Iolene makes a very audible awwwwwwwwwwwwww sound. "It's ok. She'll understand." Except, how do you explain this to the last person who might understand. Io looks down at her mound of food, suddenly lacking an appetite, despite this sudden respite and bolstering of Ysavaeth's own, rather sleepy, dream-like, feelings. "Jaques. Where's Dev?" There's a sudden deathly quietness from her voice, as if fearing the worst: That her would-be half-brother is now gone. Exited the Weyr. Gone. Muttering to himself about herdbeast and cookies, Einrhi shakes his a little at the request made by Ali. A nudge in back brings him back to reality however, as the line has started to make progress. As he passes one of the tressels set up for the feast, he waves down one of the kitchen helpers and murmurs something briefly--while he retrieves two plates and a bowl to fill. Upon the return of the kitcheneer, a triumph 'Ah!' from Einrhi and a thankyou given as he takes the tray and arranges the kitchenware he had on it for easier transportation. Ali frowns a little at Nathalia's explanation. "The exiles, you mean? I- noticed a lot of them seemed to impress. Do you think that means something?" The Fortian seems to think so, anyway, judging by considering expression. Ali is obviously interested in Sullivan's answer, judging by attentive gaze. "I've- I have to learn how to heal dragons, Weyrwoman Hattie says. I wonder how different that is from people healing." Taikrin heads in from the bowl. Taikrin has arrived. It's not like Jaques to be harsh, especially where Iolene is concerned; but he hasn't been on the best terms with Devaki for some time now and this is not the best night anyway. "Iolene, I don't know or care where he is right now. If he can't be bothered to be with his own--" he answers, rubbing his face. "I need to find my /wife/." Not that he moves to try to, either, but. A purse of his lips and a little shake precedes Sullivan's, "No, actually. Fort." A pause. "Weyr." Just in case there was any confusion, which there might be. And for some reason he gives Ali a small, secret look when he divulges that, though the reasons behind it are his own. Besides, he needed to look at her to contribute to her thought, didn't he? "Aside from a very basic grasp on anatomy I really couldn't tell you, except that people are rather lacking in the winged category." If that hadn't been delivered with a small smile it could have been very snarky. Iolene clings. She's gotten very good at that in the last week and luckily, Ysavaeth is in a deep sleep. You'd think that being in an egg would get all the sleep out of a dragon's system. "Jaques," is the low, rich entreating. "Please," is her next plea, but it all busts up when he mentions his wife and if Jaques is harsh, so his Io. "You're not married anymore," is her throw away comment as she stalks away, leaving her food on the plate on the table as she walks away. "Means something?" Nathalia questions back. "I expected a few to impress, but so many. I think it's what the Weyr was hoping for to be honest. A life mate, and a place to call home. Somewhere where they weren't treated as a sideshow or spectacle," She offers, her tone indicating she's repeated the words frequently. "Ah I see, I have heard good things of Fort." Well Ali at least seemed personable. She studies the Islander pair with muted interest, but no more than that. "Your brother," Jaques says, very deliberately, after her, "can go to hell." Iolene halts. Crimsons and flees. She's crying, but that doesn't matter right now. Now the whole living cavern knows. |
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