Difference between revisions of "Logs:Issedi and Devaki's Engagement"

High Reaches Hold

Isolated on its westward-jutting peninsula, from the landward side High Reaches Hold appears burrowed deep into the mountain, with only a few shuttered windows overlooking the rows of cotholds that line the river road. Its double courtyards appear designed more for transportation or defense than for welcoming visitors. From the seaward side, the slant of the windows overlooking the fine deep bay attempts to ward off the sea winds, the higher stories evading the less pleasant odors prevalent at low tide.

Today, the courtyards are full to overflowing with visitors and locals alike. Most of the stalls have been set up further afield, lining the main road that weaves inwards to the hold, and filling the orchards. The courtyards are bustling too, however, with harpers on call to provide dance music as well as more sedate performances throughout the day and night.

However cold and bleak the Hold's setting may be, inside, its colors of dark blue and tan act as neutrals for the warmer, brighter hues of its llama-wool tapestries and rugs. Below the Hold, oval caverns house lengths of seasoned wood for its shipbuilders, and to its outskirts are several minor Crafthalls including a glass-smith's shop.

Though the Hold's main access is by sea, the river road leads to its Weyr and the rest of Pern, while minor roads lead to a few outlying Holds and the distant lighthouse.

Though overall pleasant, the temperature has dropped just below the freezing mark, enough to allow the lightest sprinkle of snow to fall from the skies.

Autumn is not an especially ideal time for a celebration up in these northern corners of the continent - but needs must, and High Reaches Hold is nothing if not resourceful. It's still only been a few months since the tragic death of Lord Rynien, but grief has been put aside, today, and the atmosphere is - though occasionally tense - certainly celebratory. The great hall has been turned over to the occasion, with harpers set up to play, and long tables bursting with food. Outside - well, there are bonfires and snowball fights, and big cauldrons of cider and klah, as well as the myriad of stalls that offer wonderful treats and interesting wares to those with the marks to spare.

Formal events require formal greetings, and K'del has already delivered his - he was perhaps a little terse with Lord Braeden, making it clear that perhaps he might have appreciated some consultation on these latest events, but it was all well within the limits of formal conversation. Now, with his formal duties done, K'del has headed outside to watch some of the children play with snowballs, and to warm his hands near one of the great cauldrons of cider as it bubbles away. He looks thoughtful, not quite uncomfortable, but certainly not as celebratory as many others.

While Devaki has spent most of the morning by Issedi's side, the Lord Holder's sister is now dancing with her brother, to the cheering, clapping greeting of many of the residents. The former Exile has taken the opportunity to step away, hands smoothing down clothes that are probably finer than any he's ever owned, marked by a knot of High Reaches Hold. Outside, his gaze drifts over the children, and settles on the High Reaches Weyrleader with a slight narrowing of gaze. His steps in that direction are quick, deliberate. "K'del," there is no formality, and no warmth in the greeting, either, just a statement as he pretends to warm his hands in the same way the bronzerider does.

"Murderer." It's like a name, the way it rolls off K'del's tongue without him skipping a beat, without him even glancing up to regard the exile. He turns his hands over, warming the other sides in a fixated, gaze-straight-ahead kind of way; too busy to look at Devaki, too busy to give him his full attention. "Or should that be Lord Devaki, reclaimer of birthrights and no doubt the reason this area is about to devolve into chaos as Aughan takes his retribution?" And hello to you, too.

"Really? You whose predecessors sent entire families, all of the exiles' ancestors, to die on a barren rock, want to talk about murder?" Devaki keeps his voice low, keeps his expression pleasant to those who watch from a distance, but there's a subtle tension in the way his hands fold together, in the way he looks at the High Reaches Weyrleader. He takes a deep breath -- glances over his shoulder -- is that a familiar shadow of the Other there, or just coincidence? -- then back. "Lord Braeden," he says, with a forcibly even tone, though he can't quite smooth out all his anger, "Makes his own decision. No one can force him to do anything he doesn't want to do. He believed it right -- given all the evidence -- to provide some sort of recompense for what occurred."

The implication that his Weyr is responsible for what happened snaps K'del's up so that he can stare outright at Devaki, and then shake his head in disbelief. "My Weyr did what they were paid to do, no more and no less. We're a glorified delivery service-- do you always blame the messenger? Is that how it works?" In lifting his head, he catches the attention of someone else nearby, and attempts then to turn his expression to a smile; it doesn't completely work. "Believe it or not, I don't have a problem with Lord Braeden's decision. I just have a problem with you. Murderer."

"Do you actually believe you can plead ignorance in all this? 'Oh, we didn't know we were sending entire families to die, we just dropped them off there?' Come on, K'del. Do you really think Pern will buy that?" Devaki keeps his voice low, but it's full of intent, conveying his low-level of anger quite clearly, even if those nearby can't make out the words. He's dressed in finery befitting a Lord, sporting the knot of High Reaches Hold, and holding his fingers over one of the cider barrels as he... /talks/ with K'del. "But, if you want it to all come out, including that you and Tiriana took bribes from Lord Rynien to keep the Islanders imprisoned, well--" he spreads his hands.

"If you'll remember," says K'del, sharply, no longer able to keep his expression at even a quasi-smile, "all of that happened long before either of us was born. I am not responsible." His bare hands are shaking with barely concealed anger; the glance he aims at Devaki is no better. "That was no bribe. We rescued you. We didn't have to. If it weren't for us, you'd all still be out there, still languishing away." He's still managing to keep his voice low enough that it doesn't travel, but more than a few people have started glancing in their direction with curiosity. Not that it's distracted those playing in the new snow, not so far away: a group of children, a healer who has lost her hat and is darting about with dark curls bobbing freely around her shoulders.

A party in the snow. Only people who live in the mountains can come up with that sort of thing. Brieli is certainly not a native - that much is obvious by how warmly she's dressed and how the tall candidate hunches over into herself, as if it helps. She winds her way through the crowds, footing careful and slow over the slick ground - or possibly dallying to listen in on conversations that burst through the activity. As her steps take her nearer to the Weyrleader and the sharp-dressed man, she's quick enough to notice curious glances and follow them with her own dark gaze. Interesting.

"No, you are not. But neither do you take responsibility for what you are responsible for. For what your predecessors were responsible for." A harshness enters Devaki's voice, like he's having trouble controlling his demeanor, fingers clenching. His gaze, however, is drawn by movement nearby -- staring at the group of children, or possibly the healer with the group of children -- an odd expression on his face, briefly. It's almost like he's lost his train of thought, since he doesn't pick up the thread of the heated conversation. Instead, he reaches for one of the cups, filling it from the barrel and taking a deep, steady drink all in one motion.

Low and unhappy, K'del's reply is a simple one: "I hope you are never faced with making a decision that involves placing the needs of you and yours over the needs of others. You don't always get to take the high ground. Can't always be the better person." He doesn't move away, for all that he seems, at least in that moment, finished with the argument; instead, his gaze turns, allowing him to glance around at those assembled, and to make attempts at polished, formal smiles (even to Brieli). Meanwhile, out in the snow, the dark-haired woman is leaning down to scoop up a dark haired girl, who uses her extra height to peg a snowball at one of the other children. There's laughter - lots of it.

As that low, harsh voice carries, there's enough in it to edge Brieli closer, even unfold a little from her frigid little hunch. There's something about Devaki's words that have her expression shading slightly darker... though she'll summon a smile quick enough once K'del's looking around with that attempt at some sort of normalcy. At a bit of a loss - she's not playing in the snow or anything so innocuous, so she makes as if she's headed by the pair of men, merely giving the Weyrleader a nod as she passes. "Sir." Respectful.

From Amareth's neckridges, Rhaelyn ahems to her passanger, checking to make sure he's not taking liberties with his hands as Amareth banks and then makes a sudden landing in the clearing. "Well, we shouldn't be too late." Once they've touched down, she yanks off her helmet and fusses with her hair, leaving Zev to unfasten himself, or waiting his turn for her attention once the hairs are all in place.

There may be lots of laughter, but none from Devaki, certainly. Perhaps owing to his proximity to K'del. Or perhaps owing to K'del's words -- there's a stiffening of his posture, a recognition of the truth of the words. "I've made more of those than I care to admit," he finally says, stiffly. And a little uncomfortably, judging by the way he's looking at the Reachian Weyrleader, like he's suddenly seeing him in a new light. The moment of silence lengthens, as he, too, watches the children, mostly -- then finally, in a low undertone, "I know you won't believe me, but I did not kill Seani. She was one of mine; I cared for her." There's something in his voice all the same, a guilt and anguish that rides his voice and his expression both. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry--" he seems about to continue, but Brieli's arrival has him clamping down again, all false, inscrutable expression as he studies the woman openly. "Candidate," he says, "For Ysavaeth's clutch?" he glances at K'del, looking like he's struggling to keep an even expression.

From Amareth's neckridges, Zev goes ahead and unfastens himself and slides on down from the green Amareth's neck to the ground. And once there he puts on a grin as he turns and gallantly offers a hand up to his gracious ride to the festivities. "Offer you a hand down, Rhaelyn?"

The words in that undertone result in a visible reaction in K'del, one that doesn't imply that he does believe the other man: but certainly that he's listening, thinking, noting them. Certainly, he hasn't missed the emotion in them, and were it not for Brieli's pass-- "Brieli, good afternoon. Yes," he adds to Devaki, striving for an even tone that his expression doesn't match; he looks bothered, troubled. "For Ysavaeth and Cadejoth's clutch." Can he really be blamed for putting the emphasis on his own lifemate's name? "How is the party treating you, Brieli? Come and pay your respects to Lady Issedi's husband-to-be." More emphasis.

From Amareth's neckridges, Rhaelyn's eyes narrow at the hand offered up to her as she runs fingers one last time through her hair. The buckles dome unfastened next and at long last she gives a roll of her eyes and accepts the help down. "I imagine it's the very least you can do." Said in a quiet undertone as she slides down, careful for the skirts of her dress so she doesn't flash too much leg in the process.

If Brieli is bothered by either being studied or anything she's heard (or by interrupting), she certainly doesn't seem it - by her expression, she's very nearly oblivious. With a bright smile for the mask Devaki is wearing, she nods once, again. "I am. And I am at a disadvantage," she returns - but then K'del is offering an introduction. To her credit, her face doesn't change, and she simply offers a hand to the bridegroom. "Congratulations. I didn't have the opportunity to meet your intended, but she seemed quite lovely at the clutching feast." Even if the men are uncomfortable, she'll just pretend there's nothing weird going on. Clearly.

"And it's treating me well, thank you, sir. Though I'm a bit chilly, I admit." Brieli tells K'del easily.

The way Devaki's jaw clenches at that pointed emphasis from K'del would be difficult to miss, indeed: the former exile looks ill pleased. There's a slight brittleness to the words that follow, like he knows there's no way he could successfully aim for casual with this question: "Do you think Lady Iolene will be joining us this evening?" he does, of course, emphasize that title in turn. And while the blond seems more interested in the Weyrleader's response, he's polite enough to acknowledge the introduction, intent gaze settling on Brieli again. "A pleasure to meet you, Brieli. Devaki, formerly of the Island." If that addition is for K'del's benefit, he doesn't watch to catch the bronzerider's expression; instead, his head tips, and his smile grows, a shade more genuine, "The Lady Issedi is indeed, quite lovely. She's dancing with her brother, at the moment, but I'd be happy to introduce you later." He glances sidelong, then adds with a gesture towards the hall, "Perhaps we should take this inside. It would be a shame if the candidate should miss the hatching due to one of our celebrations."

Zev offers an arm to the greenrider he's arrived with, though he does it halfheartedly, as if he knows the odds of her taking it are somewhere between slim and none. "Where to first, make our greetings to the hosts or take a tour of the booths and tables to see what's here?"

"Iolene," no title there, "arrived with Cadejoth and I, earlier. I believe she's gone to talk a walk by the ocean, but we have plans to dance, later." K'del aims for bland and unconcerned, but doesn't quite manage it: he's still so obvious in his intent to to hurt. Still, he manages to aim another not-quite-true smile at Brieli and allow, "It is cold out here, certainly. Perhaps Devaki is right, and we should go inside. The dancing will warm us all up, if the people and fires don't." He, Devaki and Brieli are in front of one of the cauldrons.

Rhaelyn's attention doesn't linger on Zev, even though her hand stays on his fore-arm to allow him to escort her around. "I imagine we should find our way into the hall and see what's happening. I have to see for myself if Devaki is really here." Her lips twitch at the thought. "Do you think he'll....oh, I think that's him right there."

The title for the absent goldrider does arch Brieli's brows a touch, as might Devaki's reaction and tone; even so, "I hope she will. It's certain to be less stressful than the last party." She sounds a little less-than-certain at her last - given the tension in the current conversation, she looks as if she might not blame Iolene for dodging the whole thing. However, the offer of the introduction brings her back to her manners; flashing a grin to the (former) Islander, "I did notice the Lady likes to dance. And I'd be glad to offer my congratulations to her as well. Or is it best wishes for the bride? I can never remember." K'del's explanation of Io's status arches brows again, but she looks to the Hall, sounding grateful, "Thank you both, inside would be appreciated. I'm not used to the snow, and I can't take a shot or two to warm up." The last said lightly - not really.

Zev grins as the hand goes to his fore-arm and he turns his attention towards Rhaelyn's gaze. "Well, if you think that's him, let's go see for certain." He guides the greenrider away from the landing area and towards the assemblage, aiming towards the man she's pointed out as Devaki. "Why would you think he wouldn't be here?" He asks as they cross the distance.

She's surely been around here for a while, having hitched a ride with somebody, but now Damaris is coming out of hiding with a gaggle of people her own age, a mixture of Weyrfolk and those from here. She's actually being quiet for once, letting somebody else with the group tell all the stories and keep people entertained. She's too busy being attentive to everything else going on to bother with trying to be clever, as well.

It's hard for Devaki to cover up his reaction to K'del's mention of Iolene, the slight wince and clench of jaw visible, albeit briefly. "Good," he forces through in brittle tones, "Perhaps we'll get a chance to dance as well, later." But Brieli's ongoing attempt to ignore the tension allows him a somewhat more genuine response, even if it has the lingering tension of the ongoing conversation, "I believe she'd welcome either. And the opportunity to meet more people outside of the Hold. Shall we?" He gestures towards the doors leading back into the Hold, though Rhaelyn's approach catches his eyes, and he hesitates a moment. "Excuse me a moment. I'll see you both inside." His fingers wind together as he waits, preventing him from fidgeting with finery that wouldn't even be dreamed of on the Island: his gaze flickers briefly towards Zev, but fixes soon on Rhaelyn, an uneasiness in his gaze belied by the welcoming smile of recognition for the other Islander. "Rhae," he greets her with a low voice, a hint of hesitation, like he's not quite /sure/ how she might react.

K'del's expression shows only the faintest hint of satisfaction in observing Devaki's reaction to his words. He holds his tongue, and, as Devaki is distracted by the arrival of Rhaelyn and Zev, turns towards Brieli with an offer of his arm: "Shall we head indoors, then? I'm sure Devaki can catch up in time, should he choose to." Perhaps he could be forgiven for making it sound as though he'd rather the young Lord did not, but at least he manages a smile as he says it.

Rhaelyn's eyes sharpen as she answers Zev, "It could be some bit of trickery. I mean, he just up and vanishes off and now floats up with a highborn wife?" With a little upward tip of her chin she finally glances at her escort to see if he will side with her. "A trap or..." But now they are too close to the others for her to go on aloud about whatever theory she might be cooking. She gives a little fluff of her skirts with her free hand, allowing herself a long moment to size up her fellow islander and his new threads. "Weyrleader." A distracted head-bob to K'del and she's focused in again on Devaki like a firelizard on something shinny. "Dev..." Her eyes narrow a fraction, "I guess it really is you."

Starting for the indoors, Brieli might continue the pleasant small talk with Devaki, as if she's never heard a whisper of rumor about him - but then, there's other matters. "Of course," she leaves him with, likely just happy to be getting inside ASAP. Turning back to K'del as his arm is offered, she blinks before taking it easily, nodding for the suggestion. "Let's do that - and I'm sure he will if there's time. This sort of thing tends to have a lot of obligations for the people engaged." And, you know, if the Weyrleader chose to dodge Devaki for the rest of the celebration, he'd have a good excuse now.

"Quite the event, sir." Zev chimes in with a bit of warmth to Devaki, though he doesn't know him beyond the brief glances he got of all the islanders in the early days. He puts a hand over Rhae's on his forearm as his only response to her comments leading up to meeting the new Lord.

"It's good to see you," Devaki says to Rhaelyn, his smile faltering somewhat, like he's forcing himself to keep up the facade. "Who were you expecting?" he can't help but to ask, with a tip of his head. Another glance at Zev, and a nod to acknowledge his comments, "High Reaches Hold knows how to mark a momentous occasion, I'm pleased to say." He steps closer, leaning in to murmur to Rhaelyn, lifting a hand to touch her free arm lightly, if she doesn't move: "I told you I'd do whatever it took to restore our Blood." Louder, as he straightens, a more casual smile, "Perhaps you'll save me a dance for later, Rhae?"

It's only once K'del and Brieli are safely indoors and away from Devaki that the Weyrleader will release the candidate's arm, rather as though he's been using her to - what? Make a point? Something else? It's certainly unlike his usual character - more like the way he tends to act with Tiriana. He lets out a low breath of relief once they step into the warm, remarking to Brieli in a cheerful enough tone, "At least Lord Braeden knows how to put on a party. Are you a dancer? Or would you rather get a - non-alcoholic - drink and some food? Or, you know, you can abandon me right now and I'll go find someone official to make nice with."

Breaking away from the little gaggle of people she was walking with with some quiet apologies and plenty of smiles, Damaris ghosts over towards the group of Interesting People, putting on a pleasant enough smile. While her steps are slow, she's not quite stopping and staring, just slowing enough that perhaps she can overhear some on her way past and towards Inside.

The increasing chill is enough to send even the most enthusiastic of snowballers indoors. Madilla's at the head of the group, her dark hair loose and snow-filled, her five-turn-old daughter in hand. In her arms is a blonde-haired, toddler, squirming contentedly against her. Her steps falter as she passes not too far from the collection of people near the cider cauldron, and for a moment, she just stares-- and then she's off again, turning her face away from them and avoiding eye contact with anyone, so she can escort the children inside.

Rhaelyn's eyes shift back and forth along the line of visitors and native Reachian holders before her gaze settles back on Devaki, "It's good to see you, and that you are in one piece. As for who I might have been expecting?" She gives a shrug, admiting, "I don't know. Some...impostor. I didn't think you'd...." She doesn't finish the words though, because the touch distract her from that thought. There's a smile at last, less cold brittleness as the islander speaks to her in lower tones. "Of course I'll save you a dance. There's /so/ much we should catch up with." So many questions burning in her eyes, she might just set something on fire with the look alone but somehow she manages not to blurt them all out right then and there.

Brieli just might be curious about the reunion that's occurring as she walks away; she shoots a glance over her shoulder at the trio of Rhaelyn, Zev and Devaki, dark gaze narrowing before she can turn back. Once inside, she'll unfold to her full height again in the heat, like a flower rising to the sun. It's likely the good cheer from being warm that stops her from staring at K'del as he drops her arm - even she knows he's acting odd. Giving him a bit of the side-eye, she agrees, "It's all very festive, and I'm glad for that. And I'm a dancer, but not the best amongst them. I'd rather not have to follow all the steps." For that last, she'll give him a grin and note dryly, "You're a terrible burden, Weyrleader. I'm just bored to death by your very presence." And then she'll unwind her scarf.

Zev smiles as he gives Rhaelyn's hand another little pat then adds in a more jovial manner to Devaki, "I'll be sure not to monopolize her dancing time then, I'm not so greedy as to do that." He flashes a grin over to the greenrider, "Shall we go on in and get out of this cold?"

Devaki wants to follow the thread of Rhaelyn's unfinished sentence, that much is clear from his curious expression and the way he leans forward a little. But the shift of his gaze indicates that this isn't, perhaps, the company to do it in, and so he simply straightens. "There's certainly plenty to catch up. The rumors I've been hearing about the Weyr, for one..!" He tries to force light-heartedness into his voice but it doesn't quite ring true. "I appreciate that," he offers, easily, to Zev, "But, firstly, we should have a drink in celebration of Lord Braeden," he says, gesturing inside by way of invitation, nodding to Zev to include him in that, also, moving to follow those heading inside, crowding in behind Damaris.

Into the warmth she goes, glancing over her shoulder to get a good look at the faces that seem to be catching all of the attention. The young woman, once safely into the warmth, casts a swift glance around before she starts to drift in the direction of Brieli and K'del, lingering a bit back away until she's sure that she's been spotted, and only then approaching. Someone's in mouse-mode, tonight.

It's pretty obvious that K'del is now pretending that there's nothing odd whatsoever about his behaviour: he's suddenly all smiles, all cheerfulness. "Dancing is more fun when you're not on display so much," he allows, pulling open the buttons of his coat so that he can begin the process of disrobing (to the gather-best beneath, of course). "Hardy-har-har. Very funny. I-- Damaris, good evening. Having a good time?" It's only a vague glance that has him catching sight of the other candidate, but as he does, he aims in her direction a warm enough smile.

Rhaelyn's fingers drum lightly along Zev's arm and her smile at him turns ever so frosty, though she manages not to let any snide comment slip out. Instead she turns back to Devaki, "Well, now that your news is out of the bag...perhaps you'll make yourself available to old friends and we can get caught up when your attention isn't so divided. I have heard my share of rumors too. Who can you trust to tell, or know the real story?" Now she turns back to Zev, "Drinks sound nice yes?" As in: Go fetch.

Zev isn't slow on the uptake. He lets his arm drop just enough to let Rhaelyn's hand disengage, "I'll be just a moment then..." He moves ahead, leaving Rhaelyn back with Devaki as he makes his way on into the warmth and the promise of glasses of something interesting to sip upon. He takes his time, even after he gets the glasses, lingering off a ways to give the two a quiet moment to trade stories without his ears in range.

"I'll always make time for old friends," Devaki assures Rhaelyn, pausing a moment to study the greenrider as he adds, "I can trust an Islander, to tell the truth." If anything, the blond looks almost startled by Rhaelyn's request and the alacrity with which Zev obeys: he stares thoughtfully after the departing man. "You've trained him well, I see," he says to his fellow Islander, a mingling of admiration and uneasiness, too. He reaches out a hand to rest in the middle of her back with the intent of guiding her off to one side -- Lord Braeden can be seen dancing with Lady Issedi, and his eyes follow the pair on the dance floor for a time, before flicking to where the Weyrleader is with the candidates. "So, you're free to travel as you see fit?" he asks his companion.

"There are a lot of people here," Damaris advises K'del, as she puts on a smile and slips over to he and Brieli. She lifts her chin in greeting to the other candidate, drawing up a polite distance back from the pair and starting to pull off her own extra layer of clothing. "And a lot of very tempting alcohol that I am not allowed to drink." A brief pout, but it's all playful, put on. She shifts on her feet to watch the surroundings again, still keeping part of her attention on K'del and Brieli, but being attentive to the rest of it as well. Observant, as best she can manage.

Brieli can totally pretend if K'del wants to do that; besides, it's a party - who wants to dwell over more serious matters? Still, she's glancing towards the door, perhaps to see who's coming in next. She too spots Damaris, giving the other candidate an easy nod. "Do you find it's rather like being on display?" she asks the bronzerider. "I suppose it would feel like that, actually. People often watch people who are important in some way, yes?" Shrugging off her coat in favor of her short red dress, she tells Damaris, "It makes things a lot chillier if you can't have a nip to warm up. And there are an awful lot of people..." She trails off to take a look around.

"Old friends shouldn't play they are fog and vanish with the light of day." Rhaelyn notes, though not exactly unkind, even though her usual edge is in her tone. She doesn't look after Zev, just smiles at the compliment, "It's....he's....a work in progress." She catches Devaki's gaze and then follows his look to the dance floor, "You've done very well for yourself though. Pretty lady...." Her gaze stays there as she nods in response to the question, "Free as can be. Although I haven't fully tested any limitations. Yet."

"It's exactly like being on display," confirms K'del as he pulls his coat off and hangs it from one of the hooks oh-so-helpfully located on the wall behind them. He's wearing black and navy, beneath, looking every inch a High Reachian - identifiable even without his knot, though he's wearing that, too. "It's awful. Sometimes, I go to gathers down south, or anywhere, really, where I'm less likely to be recognised without my knot on. Just to get away from it." His own gaze considers the crowd, sweeping from one group of people to another, and lingering only briefly on Braeden and Issedi as they dance. "Sorry about the alcohol. Wish I could stretch the rules, but-- can't trust everyone to be on their best behaviour."

Zev makes a slow tour of the inner hall, exchanging nods and smiles with faces that are familiar and not alike. In general just taking the long way back to where he started, with a few glances from a distance towards Devaki and Rhaelyn's conversation to the side of all of the activity.

A group of holder women, all obviously high ranking if not 'Ladies' in the major hold sense of the term, hang around together in the corner, making eyes at Braeden. One mother steps up alongside her daughter and seizes her hand, attempting to push through the crowds, daughter in tow, to lead her towards the dancing Lord. Issedi's cheeks turn pink in the conversation that follows; as she retreats, Braeden is left to look awkward and out of his depth for a moment, before he accepts the hand of the girl presented to him, and continues the dance. He is a lovely dancer.

"Oh, no, it's fine, I was just attempting to get a smile," Damaris says, refocusing in on K'del and Brieli. A little fluttered smile, and she hangs her jacket up, stuffing her gloves into a pocket. "I just wanted to say hello. I'm sorry for interrupting." Another smile flashed, this one brighter, and she's dipping her head to the two of them and drifting back away, circling around through the people and settling back into observer mode. There's a lot to take in.

Hanging up her coat, Brieli has to smile at the idea of K'del sneaking off to dance in secret. Even so, "I can only imagine. The smaller gathers are more fun anyway, less formal, more dancing..." Again, the tall dark candidate trails off, this time for a less obvious reason; almost too quickly, "The few that I've been to out of the Hold were, in any case. And like Damaris said - it's more of a joke. Alcohol-warm isn't properly warm anyway." To the distracted blonde, "Hello, then. And you weren't really interrupting." But then, Damaris is off into the fray. Glancing K'del's way, she shrugs.

Happily, one of the things provided by Braeden this evening is childcare: having been missing from the action for a few minutes, Madilla now returns, her hair re-pinned and her clothes returned to immaculate, sans children. The healer crosses to the buffet tables, but fills her plate only sparingly; with it in hand, she retreats towards one of the further corners, content to watch the dancing without being amidst it.

"You really we--" K'del breaks off his words, which were probably largely a reiteration of what Brieli has just said; the expression he aims after Damaris is a perplexed one, one that is turned towards Brieli a moment later. His shrug matches hers, and he remarks, then, "Seems like you've been to at least a couple. Better than I ever managed, and I didn't even live in a major hold. Wasn't quite so interested in dancing back then, though, I suppose." He's not suspicious, though: just smiling. "Smaller ones are always better. Much more personal."

"That all depends on what they reappear with," Devaki responds to Rhaelyn in a low voice, an easy smile gracing his lips. He misses the exchange on the dancefloor, and the fact that Lady Issedi is now unaccompanied -- he remains wholly fixed on the Reachian greenrider. "She's... sweet," is all he's willing to say, of Issedi. Unlike him, of course, is the implication. But he's got more important things to speak of, his his voice lowers to a murmur, "I haven't been able to get a hold of Tom. If you should see him, send him down here -- I could use another Blood or two, to help. While we won't secure land for ourselves, not initially -- it's a start. Braden's even begun to discuss extending his holding to the Island, if Elder Shimana, or any of the others want to return there."

Food is collected, and a quieter sort of corner is found. Damaris settles herself in to pick at food and drink something, pulling her feet up beneath her in her chair and watching the people in attendance with some measure of curiosity. Interest, even if it's a little bit distant. It's all taken in.

Now unaccompanied, Issedi retreats towards one of the walls, both hands pressed towards the waistline of her dress as she watches her brother on the dancefloor; she looks almost concerned, except that she's trying so very hard to smile. She's not alone for long, of course: another of those mothers approaches her a moment later, daughter in hand. It rather begins to look like an onslaught: all these unmarried women, all these eyes on the young, unmarried Lord Braeden.

"I've been lucky, I guess. And sometimes I'd rather hear just a few people who play music for fun than the full-on Harper barrage. They're quite good at what they do, it's just a little... It lacks spontaneity?" Brieli isn't sure that's the right sentiment, but close enough. Glancing out to the dance floor, "It doesn't seem anyone else minds though, so what do I know?" This time, her shrug for K'del is more self-deprecating, and she offers a smile. Careful, as if she's not sure she should voice the words, "Everything seems to be going well, given... everything. I might be cautiously optimistic."

As Braeden exchanges partners, Rhaelyn's watching eyes take it all in, her lips compress before shaking her head and refocusing her attention back to Devaki, "Tom? Of course I can get him here for you. Hopefully you will not forget other islanders of blood. Just because some of us have an addition doesn't mean we aren't islanders to our core." She puts a hand to his arm, expression intense and eager.

Zev sees that hand of Rhaelyn's go onto Devaki's arm and the look in her face. It's enough that he cuts short his trip around the hall and moves towards the greenrider more directly and with a bit more pep in his step. He approaches the two islanders with the drinks he's acquired. "Here you go, hope you have had a good time catching up?" he asks with the question directed towards the greenrider.

K'del's 'mm' is one of quiet agreement, as his own gaze considers the harpers presently at work. But it's Brieli's latter remark that makes his smile twist and his attention turn back to the Candidate. "You mean, I didn't punch Devaki's lights out, and he didn't kick me in the balls." At least he sounds amused when he says it. "And no one has done anything along those lines-- though it looks like Braeden's about to get swarmed by Ladies-to-be. No, you're right: so far, everything is well. I'm relieved." And genuinely so, if his low exhale is any real indication.

"I wouldn't dare, even if you wouldn't let me forget," Devaki's tone is part fond, part reminiscent, patting Rhaelyn's hand in a reassuring sort of way as a low-throated laugh escapes him. "They'll be a place for all of us, Rhae. I promise you that." He leans forward, voice just as intent as her expression. It's only Zev's return that makes him straighten, his hand dropping easily back to his side as if they weren't interrupted, accepting one of the drinks from Zev. "Thank you. Shall we have a toast to the Lord Braeden?" only now does his gaze go towards the dance floor, noticing the besieged Lord, and the absence of his sister, with just the slightest of frowns.

Issedi excuses herself from the woman and her daughter only barely: both stare after her as she hurries away, looking faintly disgruntled. The young Lady strides rather faster than is probably proper towards the buffet tables, although her roundabout route takes her right past - and very nearly into - Damaris. Jumping back, just in time, she looks genuinely horrified: "Oh, no. I'm so sorry. I nearly-- Please forgive me."

"Nearly isn't actually," Damaris is quick to say, setting aside her plate and sliding up to her feet. "It's fine, nothing to forgive." A reassuring smile is offered up. "You're forgiven for the nothing that happened, though." Beat. "You alright? Why don't you have a seat, I'll get you something to drink and some food. This is a good quiet spot for hiding for a moment."

Ah, Devaki's reasurance is a little warm shot to Rhae's cold heart. She smiles and gives a mute nod of her head just as Zev rejoins them. "Ah Zev, thank you so much." Just for his benefit, she lets her hand linger on the new lord's arm a moment as she smiles at the woodsmith. "You were ever so missed." Reaching out for the drink with a most innocent flutter of lashes, "A toast to the Lord then, and a wish for his long life." The frown is noted, following his gaze across to the dance floor.

Arching brows, Brieli notes, "Actually, I meant that no one's showed up to challenge this whole thing or yell about what-should-have-been. But... now that you mention it, I did notice a bit of tension there." A lot. Knives could have cut the tension. "And I don't imagine that it all has to do with what he might have done. Not that I'm asking for any clarification - I feel I might be out of my depth on all of that." Or maybe she doesn't want to get too involved in any of K'del's personal problems. Glancing over to the young Lord, she tries very hard to look sympathetic, and fails. "How terrible for him," she says dryly, despite how uncomfortable Braeden might be looking about being the target of so many women. "It's not as if he doesn't need to be married, is it? And I'm glad of that." She does sound genuine in that, turning back to add, "You seem a bit - anxious. Not that there's reason not to be, but - it's not much of a way to live."

Zev raises his glass to the toast, "A toast to the Lord, that sounds like part of why we're here in the first place." He raises his glass to join in Rhaelyn's offer of a toast and only half turns to see where the two islander's are looking. Then he reaches his free hand to the greenrider's forearm, a light touch, just a finger and thumb taking hold as he asks, "Perhaps you would favor me with your first dance of the evening?"

K'del's mouth opens, but he stops himself before launching into anything in particular and instead, bestows upon Brieli a rueful smile. "It's a long and largely uninteresting story. He's Iolene's half-brother, did you know that? You're right, though - no challenges, no number of Aughan's forces showing up to try and kidnap Issedi and force him to marry her," which was, of course, a completely logical and plausible thing to happen, not at all, "Nothing like that. I'm relieved." Brieli's remark on Braeden makes him chuckle lowly, and he says, only, "Believe it or not, there's a point at which being swarmed stops being fun. Believe me. I-- no. It's not much of a way to live. Reminds me of when I was first Weyrleader, when we had tithes being stolen, and renegades, and-- I'm just tired. That's all. It'll get easier. Simpler. Soon."

"To Lord Braeden," Devaki murmurs, lifting his glass and taking the briefest of sips. He can't be unaware of the greenrider's hand resting on his arm, still, but he seems rather used to being used in such a way that he doesn't protest. His gaze is still on Braeden, however, and he leans in to murmur to Rhaelyn, "I shall make sure that you get a dance with the Lord later," before he starts to withdraw in apparent acknowledgement of Zev's request to dance with Rhaelyn.

"I'm--" Issedi seems unsure as to how she is, whether she is, indeed, alright, and eventually favors Damaris with a sweet, quiet smile. "I would appreciate that, actually. I'm not terribly good at these at the best of times, and being in the middle of it, the main attraction, as it were, is - it's a little much. Thank you?"

"You're welcome. Sit. Breathe. I'll fetch you food and drink, and then stand so that most people can't see you," Damaris returns, offering up an impish smile. "And if that doesn't work, I'll bite whoever I need to. They'll be so shocked they'll forget about bothering you." A flutter of her lashes, a gesture for her hidey-chair. "I'll be right back." And she's weaving through people to do just what she's said, cutting in lines as appropriate with an apologetic smile and an 'I have every right to do this' bearing. Food. Drink. They are acquired.

Rhaelyn lifts her glass for the toast as well, fixing Zev with a direct look for the first time that evening just before taking a sip from the glass. "I don't know..." she starts to protest the dance with Zev, even as his fingers capture her wrist. Her lips twist, part smirk, part scowl before transforming back into a smile for Devaki's sake, "I would -love- that." Then she's letting Zev draw her into the dancing, saying loudly, "You could have waited a moment...."

Zev puts on a smile as he leads Rhaelyn out onto the dancing area, his glass finished and set aside at the last table before he gets her to the floor and both of his hands move to guide her into the ongoing dance. "I suppose I could have, but I felt a strong need to get onto the dance floor."

Issedi's smile is genuinely grateful, edging on pleasantly surprised and amusedly shocked, for what Damaris has to say - it seems to please her, somehow, despite being almost certainly out of the norm for the kind of conversation she's used to. Settling in to Damaris' seat, the young Lady smooths over her skirt, gaze turning irrevocably back to her beleaguered brother. Still, when the Candidate returns, she's smiled at all over again.

"Really." Brieli can't help but glance through the crowds to pick out Devaki again, as he lifts a glass with Rhaelyn. "That explains a few things," she tells K'del, but in a tone that makes it clear it doesn't explain everything - but then, she doesn't want to know, right? Looking back to the Weyrleader again, she grins to add, "And wouldn't that be a sight. Marching troops, all of that. Unlikely at very best." Something about what he says next sobers her a touch; tucking a loose curl behind her ear, tone easy, "I'll take your word for it. And I'd read that you were in charge then, as well - when I was trying to acquaint myself with all the history. I can imagine it must have been difficult for you."

Devaki pauses a moment to watch Rhaelyn and Zev disappear onto the dance floor. And then he begins to circulate throughout the hall, searching specifically for someone. It takes a couple of circuits before he finally spots Issedi, having to navigate the crowd to reach her. He's polite enough about it, but determined, arriving only moments after Damaris does. "I'd wondered where you'd got to," he murmurs in a low, sympathetic voice to Issedi, smile lighting his features, "Hiding out?" he leans to press lips against his fiancee's forehead, before straightening, his manner completely solicitous. And then he fixes on Damaris with an easy smile. "I'm Devaki."

Rhaelyn tosses back what's left in her glass in a willful, yet silent retort before laying her glass beside his. She's mute even as they begin the first steps of the dance before she hisses, "I didn't know you were -so- keen on dancing." Leaning in closer as they take a whirl around for the first few beats she continues, "You intruded on our conversation."

Plate and mug are brought back in short order, offered out to Issedi with an entirely over the top melodramatic sort of bow. Also, an impish grin. Damaris's eyes are touched with humor, the smile she's wearing all warmth. Once the plate and mug have been taken, she does indeed shift to stand so that she's screening the young Lady from the bulk of the people assembled, the candidate's posture mostly casual. If it blocks Issedi's view to her brother, well. That just can't be helped. She does recollect her own plate, so that she can stand there and eat. Mostly with manners. "Take what moments you can, m'lady," she suggests. "Eat up, gather your strength for the next round. While I will do my best to shield you, they're going to figure out where you've gotten to before too long."

K'del seems to register, only belatedly, that, "Not sure if I was supposed to say that. It might be a secret. I can't remember." He's - okay, not entirely sober, for all that he's been doing pretty well thus far. His opinion of Devaki is, well, fairly obvious. In any case, he's distracted enough by that that his companion's sobering hardly seems to register, and he continues on quite blithely. "It was. I was all of seventeen, remember, thrown into the middle of - mess. Not that much of my tenure as Weyrleader has been all that calm and easy, I suppose. It'll get better soon, though." He seems remarkably sure of it. "The wheels of change are in motion."

"Thank you so much," says Issedi, turn after turn of deportment training ensuring that she's nothing but polite as she accepts the plate and mug Damaris offers. "You're-- Oh, Dev." As her fiance arrives, her expression blossoms, the warm smile of earlier entirely superseded by the intensity of this one. "Devaki, this is - oh, I'm afraid I haven't even asked your name." Her gaze turns back on Damaris, abashed and apologetic. "She rescued me. Holder Biriman's wife and daughter wanted to talk to me about Braeden, and it was awful. I wanted to kick her in the knee and storm away, but mother would be horrified."

Rhaelyn makes a show of struggling against Zev, testing the strength of his grip once or twice before relenting. "They might slip off somewhere..." Is her weak protest before lapsing into silence for a moment or two. Her sulky expression lightens at something that is said quietly to her and she leans her head in closer to whisper back.

Devaki seems content to remain standing, his fingers briefly resting on Issedi's shoulder before they drop away in order to offer a hand out to Damaris by way of greeting, presumably. "Issedi isn't much of a fan of crowds, despite everything. You think she'd be used to it by now," there's something teasing and yet also warm when he says it, glancing back towards the blonde. A low laugh escapes him, eyes brightening at Issedi's words, responding with, "If you'd kicked her in the knee, then you really would have been the fixture of everyone's attention. Leave the kicking to me... they expect that of a savage," he says it lightly, like he's well used to the term sometimes applied to the exiles. Then, to Damaris, as if only noticing, "Was that a candidates knot I spotted?"

Brieli tells K'del in all seriousness, "I won't mention anything to anyone. I like Iolene - I wouldn't want to cause her any undue issues." As for Devaki, well. He's incidental at the moment. While some young women might have a problem with their companion not noticing their change in mood, the dark-haired candidate is hardly bothered, taking a moment to worry at a loose thread at her cuff. Careful, "That is young. it would be difficult to make decisions at that point - especially when some were life or death." With a purse of her lips for the thread, she looks up to K'del again, curious. "Are they." A pause. "That should certainly help with anxiety. Waiting for the other shoe to drop can be painful."

Zev takes Rhaelyn through a few swirls of the dance step as he chuckles, "Slipping off somewhere isn't the worst thing to do, if you ask me." He dances in close with the greenrider as they drift to the far edge of the dancing area.

"Damaris," she introduces herself quickly, flashing a smile. The offered hand is taken and shaken, lightly (after she's shuffled plate and fork into one hand). "It's nice to meet both of you." Once the handshake has been taken care of, she sets her plate aside again and folds her hands together behind her back, nodding her head to Devaki's question. "It is, yes," she agrees. To Issedi, she notes, "Rather than shin kicking, you should go for subtle stomping on toes. On accident. Because then you have a chance of getting away with it. Or tripping, with a glass of something. But really, the turning around because you're startled and accidentally backing onto her foot...well, it isn't like you did it on /purpose/."

K'del's relief is mostly channeled into approval, and genuine pleasure. He likes Iolene, Brieli likes Iolene: everyone wins! It does send his glance wandering around the room again, though, settling finally on the goldrider in question, who has ended up dancing with a young holder; she seems happy, and this, too, seems to please the Weyrleader. "It was," he says, turning his attention back on Brieli, more serious as the conversation warrants. "Hate the idea of putting anyone in that position, at that age. It's hard enough now. But - yes. Yes, they are." His certainty is remarkable; his smile inscrutable. "Before the end of the turn, I hope. Bring on Turn 29."

"Don't be so vulgar." Rhaelyn warns in a low murmur, sliding first one hand and then the other along Zev's shoulders to lace her fingers at the nape of his neck and pet him there and behind the ear. "Although, I imagine one could get very /very/ lost in the dark corners of this particular hold. I recall something like that happening at the gather not too long ago...Only problem is, if someone sees you while you're 'lost'."

The glance Issedi aims up at Devaki is a besotted one, his teasing only making her more pleased. "We'll civilise you yet," she teases, before glancing back at the Candidate. "Oh, I like that," she says of Damaris' suggestion. "Thank you - Damaris. I'll have to remember that for next time. You're going to Stand for Ysavaeth's clutch, then? That must be tremendously exciting. I was watching the children play in the snow, earlier, and they kept chattering about it, and - I do hope we can attend. I've never seen a hatching before."

Zev chuckles as he spins Rhaelyn about again as they dance then settles into a slower step. "I suppose we shouldn't get lost then, it'd be a long trip back to the weyr if we were to miss the whole party for taking a wrong turn."

"Oh, I like this one," Devaki murmurs approvingly at Damaris' advice to Issedi. "We'll be sure to keep an eye out for you on the sands, come hatching day." The Islander, naturally, assumes they'll be there. "Of course we can attend -- your brother's Lord Holder now, and I doubt he'd deny you that." Unlike their late, (un)lamented father. "As for civilizing me, we'll see about that." There's, perhaps, a slight tightening of his expression at the mention of Ysavaeth, though he hides it with a forced smile. "Where are you from, Damaris, if you don't mind me asking?"

Also picking out the goldrider, Brieli's expression is more thoughtful; her dark gaze darts from there to Devaki, back to the dancefloor again. With a sliver of a smile, she nods to K'del, allowing slowly, "I don't think most people know what to do with themselves at seventeen, let alone a Weyr. It seems almost bizarre, to allow that. To allow someone to accept that kind of responsibility. Without somme kind of help, or thought to how suited..." She trails off, shakes her head. "Never mind. I'm pleased to hear that," she says, her smile growing a touch, shading oddly amused. "Bring on Turn 29. Be careful what you wish for."

"I am," Damaris confirms for Issedi, flashing another grin. "And it is exciting. I hope you can be there, the party afterwards should be fantastic, and you will maybe even get to relax some without needing to hide in a corner." She lifts and drops her shoulders in an easy shrug, then glances to Devaki. A tilt of her head, but then he's offered an easy grin as well. "It'll be nice to see you both there. And I'm from - around Tillek," she explains. "Little cothold nobody's ever heard of. We grew grapes. I've been at the Weyr for a few turns now, though."

Rhaelyn's eyelash flutter is hiden by the veil of dark hair as she is twirled and spun. There's a startked gasp from the girl as the spin stops, catching her breath after the movement, "Yes....yes, probably right." She allows, brushing hair back behind her ear, trying to regain her cool composure.

"You're not the first to think that," says K'del, levelly, and utterly un-offended. "Nor will you be the last. It's not - an ideal way to do anything. Sometimes, the whole weyr system seems a little strange. Leadership decided in the beds of a few select dragonriders, right? Though," he allows, after a moment, "Leadership decided on an accident of birth is not necessarily any better." He doesn't seem to grasp why Brieli might be amused, and favours her, instead, with a smile that doesn't say all that much. "And what do you wish for, Brieli?"

Issedi has clearly not been many places at all, for her only contribution to follow Damaris' explanation of where she's from is a thoughtful, "Braeden liked Tillek very much. I suspect he misses it; he was there for turns and turns and turns. Perhaps we'll visit, sometime. Hopefully, Lady Edeline will have another baby, and there will be a feast for that." Because now that daddy is dead, Issedi may be allowed to attend! "I look forward to seeing you at the hatching, then. It will be terribly exciting. I suppose it must be happening relatively soon."

Zev continues to dance slowly with the greenrider, their conversation dropping off as there is almost a palpable shooting of daggers between their gaze, but even with the glares they still dance close.

Easily, "Many things seem strange to me, but I haven't lived in a Weyr long. And I can't say that you're wrong about leadership through birth; some seem better suited than others... And some just seem more interested. Though I've heard people say that anyone who wants to lead isn't suited for it, I can't say that I agree with that either." Brieli tilts her head as she regards K'del for a moment, weighing the smile, giving the question serious thought. Or so it seems. "Peace of mind," she says, eventually. "Isn't that what we all want?" Then looking for the food table, "I should have something to eat. If you don't mind? Unless you're hungry."

"We should," Devaki tells Issedi, "Visit Tillek. Perhaps after the wedding? I've always heard good things, and I'm partial to the sea, myself. I think if things had gone differently I might have entered the seacraft." The latters directed towards Damaris, as if she might somehow be personally responsible for the positive rumors. "Would you ladies like another drink, perhaps?" he offers, easily.

"It's a nice place to visit," Damaris assures Issedi, nodding agreeably. "I'll look forward to seeing you, too." A quiet chuckle, and then she's laughing at Devaki's words, lifting a hand to wave off the offer of a drink. "I'm fine, but thank you, very much." She does reclaim her plate though, so she can steal a few more quick bites.

"Restricting it to reluctant leaders only rather does seem like - asking for trouble." K'del shakes his head, but doesn't seem to have a better system to offer, though there's something unsaid in his expression that leaves him looking thoughtful, and glancing back in Iolene's direction. "Peace of mind? Suppose it is. Well - I hope you get it. No, no, go on. Ought to go rescue Iolene at some point. Promised we'd get a dance in, and I hate to let her down. She's not exactly gotten out much, with Ysa on the sands."

Devaki's suggestion visibly excites Issedi, who nods enthusiastically before telling Damaris, "I'm hoping we can be married in the spring." A glance at Devaki, and then she corrects, "Early spring. Once there are flowers worth having - I'd like local flowers, if we can manage it." She still has most of her food and her drink, so shakes her head to Devaki's offer, but says, "Go and get yourself something. I'll be quite safe, here." Damaris will protect her!

With a smile, "Well, thank you for escorting me in then, sir. And yes, it seems like she's been stuck near the sands - tell her I'll try to find her later?" Brieli offers K'del a little wave as she backs away, starting to weave her way through the crowds towards the food and drink. The further she is from the Weyrleader, the more deeply her brows furrow into a thoughtful frown. Not exactly great for picking up dance partners.

"The smell of the food's getting to me," Devaki admits, "And Edi's beaten enough savagery out of me to prevent me stealing her food... in public, anyway." He winks at Issedi and gives a rueful grin towards Damaris. As his fiancee starts talking wedding plans, he agrees easily, "Early spring," as he edges not-so-obviously away and makes for the food tables.

Rhaelyn's head shakes in silent denial. Or is that a warning? Her eyes flash as her lips move, but the words are for Zev alone to hear, not carrying over the sound of the music. There might be serious negitivity going on, but Rhae hasn't stormed from the dancefloor .... yet.

Damaris laughs, lifting a hand in farewell as Devaki sneaks away. A wry grin, and she refocuses in on Issedi. "You're adorable," she points out. "I'm sure people are too often intimidated to tell you that much, so I'll note it for you. Absolutely adorable. Early spring is a fantastic time for a wedding. If you do it before the last of the snow is gone, then the bright bright flowers against the white of snow would be fantastic. And it would mean that people wouldn't expect as long of a ceremony outside...which means a longer party inside, afterwards." Yes, get the young Lady talking about her wedding. And she's doing it on /purpose/, too. A few more bites of food are taken. Nomnom.

K'del's lazy salute is probably intended to convey a few different meanings, for he offers no more words to Brieli, and instead, turns to disappear into the crowd. A few minutes later, he resurfaces again, Iolene on his arm: they dance close, affectionately, and with obvious enjoyment. Take that, Devaki.

It's completely coincidence that Madilla is fetching her own food at the same moment as Devaki heads in that direction. The moment she sees him, however? She's off and moving in the other direction, disappearing back into the crowd, with nothing more than a single, inscrutable glance in his direction.

The bounty of High Reaches Hold spread out before her, and Brieli isn't seeming impressed with any of it. If there were a line, she'd be holding it up - but thankfully, the hungry masses have thinned out. Now more of a dart-in-and-out affair, the tall candidate only gets in people's way occasionally as she picks out bits of this or that, but nothing in any great amount. She misses Madilla's in-and-out entirely, all cross with her plate.

It'd be hard for Devaki not to notice K'del, and consequently, Iolene, out on the dance floor. It slows his steps, casts his expression into a dark, unhappy scowl that persists even as he resumes his path to pick up food and a glass of wine. He spots Madilla -- or rather, her retreating figure as she turns and leaves the other way -- opening and closing his mouth in one motion, pointedly resuming his path. "I see K'del abandoned you for more interesting fare," he murmurs in Brieli's direction as he leans near her to scoop up some of the greens onto his plate. He tries, but he can't /quite/ hide the dislike in his tone.

Zev whispers back to Rhaelyn something, then with a smile spins her once to end their dance, then with an arm holding her about the waist guides her towards the food tables, "The dancing is the best part of the evening... but we shouldn't miss out on the food."

Issedi positively beams after her fiance, her sigh one of absolute contentment. When she turns back to Damaris, the first thing she says is, "Isn't he wonderful? I'd hoped, but - I didn't think it would ever happen. The arrangement with Aughan was too important, I thought." Her cheeks turn pink at the other girl's assessment of her, though she seems pleased by it. "Thank you? Oh, that sounds lovely. What an excellent idea. I was thinking... do you think Devaki would like it if we went away, afterwards? On a boat. I know he loves the sea, and I'd like to see things."

"I am sure that if it's something that you want," Damaris assures Issedi, shifting on her feet to sort of block the other woman's view of everything, "He's likely to want to indulge you. And a trip on a boat..." Pause. She clears her throat. "I'm sure if that's what you want. You could probably ask for just about anything you wanted, really. And seeing things is very nice." Beat. "And yes, of course, he's wonderful. You two are terribly suited for one another."

Rhaelyn allows Zev to escort her off the dance floor, but as soon as they are past that line, she's shrugging away from the circle of his arm and making her way for the food alone. "Thinks he's so fancy...."

Barely turning around as she pokes as some salad with a spoon, Brieli tells Devaki, "You seem terribly interested in what he's doing. Odd for a man at his engagement party." Her cultured tones aren't offended - rather, she might just be giving out some advice. Or a warning. Moving on down the table, she turns to ask him bemusedly, "Does anyone eat fish at a party? Honestly?" Anyway... "Should I feel abandoned? Should I monopolize High Reaches' Weyrleader? I don't think that's polite."

Issedi is not entirely unconscious of the way Damaris is blocking her view, and nor does she seem to take the other girl's answer at completely face value: it makes her frown in thought, though the expression doesn't linger. Instead, another smile blossoms. "He does love to make me happy," she agrees. "He's good to me. So is Braeden. I'm sure we're going to be terribly happy with each other, and have lots and lots of adorable blonde babies." Her head tilts to one side: "Have you thought much about Impression? I hadn't spoken to many dragonriders before the clutching party, but they all spoke so fondly of their dragons I assume it must be like falling in love."

Riorde comes in late, and fashionable too. She's put in no small amount of effort to look her best in a satiny black dress that flatters her figure, hair swept up in a twist. She's certainly dressing for the part of the celebrating well-wisher, and she more or less looks like it too as she comes into the hall with pleasant little smile fixed in place, except that there's something intent in the way she scans the room.

"That's because he's dancing with--" Devaki catches himself, biting down on his response, fingers tightening briefly around his plate. "You're right, of course," he concedes, as if she's provided him with some worthy advice. Her question about the fish earns, for a moment, a blank stare, and then a hearty, pleased sort of laugh, agreeing, "Not myself, nor any of the Islanders -- we had more than our fare share of fish in our time. I suspect Lord Braeden thought it a tribute." He is -- more than happy -- to leave the subject of the High Reaches Weyrleader well enough alone.

K'del and Iolene dance, still, utterly oblivious to glances in their direction, or entrances of anyone else. Something the blonde goldrider says makes the bronzerider throw back his head and laugh; she seems pleased.

"Most men are more than happy to do what they need to to make their wives happy," Damaris explains, fork hand coming up to brush some of her hair back from her face. "And he seems the sort to do his best to give you whatever you like. So yes, I expect you will be very happy, with lots of adorable blonde babies." She chuckles softly, and then she's wrinkling up her nose at the question of Impression. "I haven't thought much about it, no," she says. "I...well, to me, it seems like something that it's impossible to guess at or explain or think up. I'm enjoying being a candidate, there's a lot of new experiences, and they keep me busy enough that I'm never bored...and for once, there's plenty of work that I don't mind doing. I've found that I'd prefer to work until I can't think, as of late. Because...well. It's been a very strange time for me. I'm trying not to set myself up for disappointment." And failing, but hey.

Rhaelyn grabs up a plate as though she might use it as a weapon and thinks better of it and just piles on the fingerfood as she scoots down the table of options. She looks pleased with herself for detatching herself from Zev and goes in search of wine, only to spot the arrival of the brownrider, but luckily that woman's attention.

Brieli's gaze flickers from Devaki to the pair of dancing riders, then to Devaki's poor abused plate. With an awfully sage nod for someone likely in her teens, "I thought perhaps I might be. And I think the dancing might be something you have to live with," she adds, sounding a touch regretful - possibly for the Islander's benefit. Offering a wide smile for that pleased laugh, she finds herself a roll, explaining, "It just seems like it's something you'd want to avoid. Fish-breath. Bones. Though if the Lord intended it as a tribute, I'll happily change my opinion. I wouldn't want to offend."

Zev makes his way around the other side of the table from the greenride as he fills up his own plate. Then he drifts near, but not quite within plate smacking range.

Issedi nibbles carefully at some of the food on the end of her fork, and gives Damaris a considering glance. "As long, in return, their wives give them what they need," she says, in the hushed kind of tone that well-bred ladies sometimes employ to talk about things that aren't entirely proper. "I know." She's been well versed. But the talk of Impression, that's easier, and perhaps more interesting at this stage of her life: "Oh, I see. Yes, that does make sense. It would be terrible to get excited by it, and then to - it must be such an interesting position to be in. Not knowing the future. Until these past sevens, I've never been in that position, and now I do know the future again, so--" But it's a future she's happy with, at least.

"The dancing is not what bothers me," Devaki admits with a grimace, as he secures his wine glass. He spots Rhaelyn's return from the dance floor, his gaze lingering on her briefly before returning to Brieli. The look he's given her is, well, rather considered, and he asks, "Are you Blooded, then?"

"It's...interesting, yes," Damaris agrees, chuckling under her breath again. The whole husband-and-wife thing? Yeah, she's not touching that, nope. She just clears her throat. Stuffs another bite of food into her mouth. Yum, food. That she had nothing to do with cooking. It's pretty awesome. "It's all very different and very interesting and...often very silly, if you can believe that. Some of the antics people get up to." A warm smile is offered. "I'm glad you like the future you're seeing. I personally try to focus the bulk of my attention on the present. It's the only thing I can do anything about."

Riorde winds up near the dance floor. There's something unapproachable about her that keeps her from partnering up to actually join the couples there, and for awhile she just watches, gaze caught by K'del and Iolene. Her smile stays put, but everything else about her is hard.

Rhaelyn adjusts a few food items on her plate as she bobs her head at Devaki as she passes by. She takes a glass of wine as Zev moves to her side. A long, serious drink is taken from the glass as she stands there.

Dryly, "The dancing wasn't all that I was talking about." Brieli glances over K'del and Iolene's way before telling Devaki in an easy aside, "I have had the opportunity to spend time with Io, and I quite like her." Just FYI. Again, she's unbothered by how he regards her, picking up a fork and knife to go along with her plate; looking up with lifted brows, "That's rather abrupt, isn't it? I'm not, as far as I'm aware. My family is... different. More informal."

Zev pops a few bits of food into his mouth as he settles into the cool quiet of Rhaelyn's wake. Despite the looks he has gotten from her after their dnce ended he still seems to hve a healthy appetite.

Given the glance Issedi shoots Damaris? She's relieved that the other woman doesn't touch her potentially risque remark; her smile is a little strained, though it blossoms again soon enough. "Silly. I'm not used to silly. I suppose it must be the stress? We're raised differently, here. Or - I was. My mother is concerned that Braeden is less protective of me than my father was, but I think, really, he's more protective, just in a different way. Are you enjoying the party? Speaking of the present."

"She's very easy to like," Devaki says of Iolene, and there's a heat to his voice that expresses itself on his face as frustration. With a slow breath, he adds, "I didn't mean any offense. You behave as if you are, so I thought perhaps -- sorry." He looks as if he's just a little off balance, glancing over his shoulder, then: "Would you like to meet the Lady Issedi? She's talking with one of your fellow candidates, Damaris."

The silly is considered for a long moment before Damaris is giving a light shrug of her shoulders. The last bites of food are finished off, and she sets her place down and aside, stretching a bit. "It isn't so much ha ha twee silly as it is - you people are silly, with the things that you do," she explains, putting on another impish smile. "But I'm sure it's the stress, yes." Beat. "And yes, I expect that you were raised quite differently here. Your life and mine have very little in common." A glance around, and then she refocuses. "Of course I am; I've got the most sought after conversation partner in the whole place. I get to go home and preen for hours about having been able to monopolize your attention as I did." The words are followed with the most innocent expression she can muster, eyelashes fluttered at the end.

Any other time, Rhaelyn might just freeze Zev out completely rather than the mild chill coming off her. "Thanks for the dance." She allows grudgingly between the sips of her wine. The drink is finished before she begins to pick at the food. "So, have you done work for any of these people? That table you are working on maybe?" Business talk is safe right?

"Oh. Well, I was brought up at a Hold, so -- I imagine it all kind of trickles down. And I've found if you make the effort, you can sound... however you want." For some reason, Brieli is a bit awkward and wordy in her response to Devaki, as if she weren't expecting an apology. Briefly sympathetic for the somewhat lost look he has about him, she adds, "No offense taken. And I'd be honoured to meet her." However, with a blink, "Damaris? She seemed so distracted earlier." Even so, she gives a little shrug and smile to Devaki; lead on.

Issedi's girlish giggle has her putting a hand in front of her mouth a moment later (she has to abandon her fork to do so, of course). "I don't know if I'm really that," she retorts, however flattered; her head tips in the vague direction of the dance floor, where her brother was last seen. "Braeden, surely. He's the one they're all throwing their daughters at. I'm glad that you're enjoying it, however. I suppose I'm the hostess, in a way, and so that means your enjoyment is my responsibility. I suspect the clutching party was really more fun, but I've time to learn these things."

The dancers dance away, and Riorde turns away too. Recognizable faces suddenly abound: first Rhaelyn, who the brownrider looks at coolly, without much expression; her smile's slipped away. Then, picking out others in a pause, she heads for another little group. "Damaris," she greets, smiling again, descending behind the candidate and then looking past her. "Oh, you must be Issedi." No Lady, just Issedi. It's forgivable, isn't it, given that it's exclaimed so warmly? "The lady of the hour."

Zev nods a bit, "I suspct that I have. Not certain though as a lot of the work is ordered by stewards and the like so I don't know exactly where things end up. If things get dull we could wander and look ender table cloths. And thank you for the dance. I wasn't sure we'd even get to tke one spin upon the floor."

"They don't want to /talk/ to him," Damaris points out, all innocence. See? That is a total innocent face. "Thus,you are the most desired conversation partner. Isn't that what I was...." She shifts on her feet, lifts her chin, looks up at Riorde. There's two moments of silence before she's brightening, flashing a brilliant smile up towards Riorde. "Riorde!" Yes, she looks terribly pleased to see the woman. "Lady Issedi, this is Riorde. Riorde. I'm so glad you're here, will you dance with me later?" Hopeful, hopeful smile.

Issedi blushes, her expression turning awkward; her train of thought is pretty obvious from her face, even if the conclusion she's come to is not necessarily exactly what was intended. In any case, it means Riorde's arrival is something of a relief, allowing her to turn her smile back on to high wattage, and lift both hands towards the brownrider in an obvious attempt to take her hand and squeeze it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Riorde," she says. "I hope you're having a lovely time."

"You're very convincing," Devaki says, with a note of what sounds like approval. Or maybe admiration. Then, as he gestures, and starts to head in the direction, "Yes, Damaris, she -- she's been helping Issedi. Edi isn't much of a fan of being made the center of attention, which at a celebration like this--" the Islander makes a sympathetic noise, mostly watching Brieli, so it's only when they're most of the way to where candidate and Lady are stationed that he notices... Riorde. He stops dead. Then casts left and right, as if considering if it's too late to choose an alternative path. "So dead," he mutters under his breath, advancing again towards the group, albeit with more obvious reluctance.

Rhaelyn's nose crinkles, "I'm not looking under any tables." The firmness counters all of Zev's playfulness, just in case there might be some hope that she'd be tricked into it. "I imagine you have a lot more time to work on comissions these past few months." She nibbles at the food, attention straying towards Riorde's greeting and another bite of food is pushed into her mouth. It's like watching a car-crash about to happen. Oh no. Stop. Don't.

Zev gets a little distracted by the scene further out. He chews a few bites o food before he answers Rhaelyn's qyestion. "You are right about that. I have worked through just about all the comissions and orders for the weyr. I'm starting to fish about fo things to do in fact."

"Of course," Riorde agrees easily, her hand finding Damaris' elbow for a light, agreeable touch. Look, she's all smiles today. "Except I wouldn't dream of making anyone uncomfortable here. We wouldn't want to offend our hosts." She's looking at Issedi as she says it, stepping forward to meet her and shake hands when it's offered. "Oh, and you. Your fiance and I are old friends, you know," she drops into the conversation.

As the Harpers conclude their current set, the dancers vacate the floor, among them, K'del and Iolene. The pair part ways at that point, the blonde goldrider heading away from the great hall to presumably attend to something of importance (powdering her nose, probably), which leaves K'del at a loose end - all the better to go find another drink, and avoid kicking Devaki in the nuts.

"Thank you." As they walk towards the trap about to be sprung, totally unaware, Brieli might drop her voice low for a sentence as she and Devaki pass by a particularly loud group of revellers. After that, she can allow, "It is rather like being the prize runner or something. People come to see you rather than meet you; it's not very personal." It's only when he stops dead in his tracks that she too looks over to see Riorde with Issedi and Damaris - though she'll give him the side-eye for that mutter, she offers quietly, "Can't win tonight?" If Devaki is reluctant, she's putting on company manners and a lovely smile.

"Are you?" Issedi seems pleased, her posture straightening at Riorde's mention of her fiance. "Oh, I don't think I should mind if you danced together. It's only dancing, isn't it? Have you seen Devaki recently? I know he's missed his old friends. I'm just so glad he's here, now, and mine." Such a happy, blushing, blooming bride-to-be.

"It's part of the lifestyle, though," Devaki responds to Brieli in an undertone, the fixed expression on his face hopefully closer to a smile than a grimace. "Doubtful," he adds, as an aside, pausing briefly with a sidelong look at the candidate, a low-voiced comment offered before his forces a brighter smile. "Edi -- I'd like you to meet another one of the candidates, Brieli. Oh... Ri. Hi." Yeah, he's aiming for casual-what-a-coincidence look, here. The fact that his fingers are clenched tightly around plate and glass might be a bit easier to spot, however.

A party like this draws people from all over, and, well. This is the Reaches. Things don't always go as planned. It's no wonder that the hold's guard contingent is out in full force, milling through the party, settling the odd dispute or drunken commotion, and yes, keeping an eye on their Lord and his family. Was that a flash of bright red hair, just over there? How--strange.

Rhaelyn makes an agreeing sound at Zev, the typical response for someone only half listening to the conversation. Realizing that she's split her attention, the greenrider offers Zev a coy little smile, "Anyway, we've had our dance, a drink and food. What next?"

The cavalry has arrived! Taikrin might be late, but then again-- maybe everyone else is early. The brownrider is clearly freshly scrubbed, and her nearly black leathers are finely tailored to her muscular figure. She pushes through the crowds, occasionally pausing up on her toes to scan over heads. It's pretty obvious that she's looking for someone-- perhaps to share the skin of wine she's slung over her shoulder?

"How generous of you," Riorde replies, hands now resting lightly at her sides. "I think I might just have to take you up on that. It's been far too long." Her smile doesn't slip, neither at the starry-eyed possessiveness of Issedi's nor when she turns to look at the two who've approached. There's a little nod for Breili, and then the rest of the brownrider's attention lands squarely on the groom to be. "Oh, Dev. How good to see you. Congratulations."

Just look at how Issedi's face lights up as Devaki returns; it's enough to make anyone sick, really. Surely that can't last forever. Her, "Hello, Brieli, it's a pleasure to meet you. I hope you're having a lovely time," is sincerely said, escaping before she can turn her gaze back on Devaki and his old friend. She's clearly expecting a joyful reunion, and what she gets is... not that. So she looks confused.

Zev finishes off the last bite on his plate. "We could take a walk round the outside to see what else there is to see. Or head back if you have earl duties tomorrow. Though I am sure you wouldn't stay later than you wished just on my account."

With a wrinkle of her nose, "Mmm. I wouldn't like it, I don't think." Brieli just might stifle a laugh as she approaches with Devaki, giving him the barest nod. As he introduces her to Issedi, she has a smile for the bride-to-be, echoing Riorde - though with more sincerity - "Congratulations. I hope you're enjoying your party - Devaki was just mentioning that they're not really your thing." And yes, let's all see what's happening with the brownrider. She returns her nod, flashing a brief smile.

To Sforzath, Szadath projects, « Where is she? Give me the image. »

So much for niceties-- Szadath is no-nonsense and to the point. After all, there's this very nice green here who would really like to cuddle if his rider would just leave him alone. (Szadath to Sforzath)

To Szadath, Sforzath is not in a complying mood. Maybe it's the way he was asked. Maybe it's Riorde. Maybe it's just Sforzath himself, or all three. In any case, there's a long moment of radio silence before he abruptly says, « No. »

There's a slight wince from Devaki at the faint emphasis on Riorde's words. "Thank you," he manages to say, with aplomb. He sets both plate and glass down for a moment, and -- perhaps because he glances sidelong and catches Issedi's confusion, or perhaps he just likes to push his luck -- he gathers the brownrider up into a brief hug. "Really good to see you, Ri." And if it's cover for a murmur word or two well, it's quick and quiet enough to avoid notice.

Riorde> You sense Devaki's voice is tight with emotion, his voice a bare breath in her ear: "Missed you." The GALL!

Balking Szadath? /Sforzath/? The brown's irritation is obvious in the sudden gust of chill wind, and the way his mind voice starts reverberating. « Yes. Where is she. » (Szadath to Sforzath)

This time the refusal's delivered with a building pressure that bespeaks a warning. The quality of Sforzath's mind intensifies, ashy, acrid. « No. » (Sforzath to Szadath)

Taikrin's searching prompts a scowl when she doesn't seem to spot whatever it is she's looking for; the brownrider jostles more roughly than necessary against a pair of party-goers -- who seem to think better of rebuking her after a quick look -- on her way towards a stack of wine barrels set up by one of the tables against the wall.

She's fallen quiet, now that there is a Riorde to stand beside. Damaris looks longingly at a drink someone over there is holding, but she doesn't go after it, instead just returning her attention to those standing around nearby, attentive to the conversation. She's definitely keeping an eye up on Rirode now, though the smile is staying on her lips. Oh, the brownrider is being hugged. She inches away a little, so as to be sure she's not in the way. Quiet, quiet, quiet. Easy conversation seems to have dried up, now that there's all the people around.

Rhaelyn hesitates, giving the expanding group around Riorde and Issedi with a quick, but hungry look. "I would like to stay, but I admit that I really shouldn't indulge too much this evening. It doesn't mean you can't stay though." She pushes her plate aside as she turns back to Zev, sighing quietly.

What does Szadath do in the face of building pressure? The same thing all order brothers do to their uncooperative little brothers: he pounces. Mentally. He throws himself into a non-verbal wrestling match, as if to wrest the information right out of his (smaller, younger) brother's mind. (Szadath to Sforzath)

Zev shakes his head a bit. "No. I came wuth you so might as well go back to the weyr when you ae read to hed out."

For the briefest moment, Riorde's smile slides right off in surprise as she's swept up in the hug. "Oh-- you, too," she says, little pauses gathering between the individual words. No resistance on her part; she even presses a quick, chaste kiss to Devaki's cheek -- which isn't cover for any quietly returned response. She links arms once released instead of stepping away and smiles, first across at Issedi. "Your fiance says I can steal you away. For a dance." And then the smile's turned on Devaki, the curve of it suggestive of something a little less benign.

"They're not, not really," admits Issedi, attempting another bright smile for Brieli, though the truth is she's distracted, and increasingly uncomfortable. The hug Devaki gives Riorde only makes things worse, her mouth narrowing into a thin line that speaks to embarrassment and discomfort, though it doesn't seem to be that just doesn't trust him. Even so, Riorde's words surprise her - she turns pink, and doesn't seem to have anything to say.

Rhaelyn gives a little shake of her head when there's no fireworks across the room. With a dusting of her hands she decides, "I think it's about time to go then."

Despite the protests of the steward tending the wine, Taikrin boosts herself first onto her knees, and then onto her feet atop the wine barrel. It wobbles ominously, but holds steady long enough for the brownrider to see what it is she wants to see. Still ignoring the man's fluttering protestations, she sets off through the crowd again, this time with stony determination-- and right towards the scene Riorde is about to make.

To Szadath, Sforzath fights dirty. No -- viciously. There's no quarter given here. When he finally flashes an image to his brother, it's a taunt: the piece of the hall as seen from Riorde's vantage point, over Devaki's shoulder.

Even if the situation is uncomfortable, Brieli will continue on, giving Damaris a questioning glance before telling Issedi, "I feel a little badly for you then, with so many on the horizon. Hopefully, it won't be a long engagement." However, Riorde's statement has her struck a little silent herself, blinking between the brownrider and the bride-to-be. Then glancing around the room to gauge it - how might that go over?

"Ri!" Devaki exclaims, both surprised and caught off guard. He glances at Issedi, noticing her discomfort immediately -- it'd be hard to miss, really -- and reassures her, as best he can, "She's just teasing. We used to fish together, out on the Islands." Oh-so-deftly, he seeks to extract his arm from Riorde's, as he adds, "Besides, the first dance of the evening has to be with my fiancee. If she'd indulge me...?" he lifts a hand towards Issedi in invitation, though it's not clear whether he's doing it to save her, or to save himself, exactly. Probably a bit of both.

Zev smiles and offers the same arm he brought the greenrider in on. "Might I escort you back to Amareth then? I'm ready to head home as well."

Dirty fighting is a way of life for Szadath-- he has no compunctions about throwing his weight around against his brother. That image is snatched at, and then a moment later he taunts back with one from Taikrin's own that partially lines up. « GOT YOU! » And, because this is all fun and games, he withdraws with what generally passes as a comradely buffet of cold against the younger brown's mind. (Szadath to Sforzath)

The smoke cloud that promptly blows back at Szadath might as well be a 'whatever.' (Sforzath to Szadath)

There's a curious look sent sidelong up towards Riorde, and Damaris frowns a little, reaching to put her hand on the woman's elbow, now and repeating that hopeful look. Tug, tug. Big eyes.

"What?" Riorde says, eyebrows lifting with well-feigned innocence. Devaki might slide his arm away from hers, but she doesn't let him go quite so easily. "She did suggest a dance. Damaris heard. You've got all the time in the world to dance with your bride-to-be. And exactly how long has it been since we saw each other last? Just one little dance, for old time's sake."

Rhaelyn gives a small nod to Zev and adds, "If you -must-." Although she doesn't just abandon him there, she walks at his side over to the awaiting dragon. "I am surpised you don't want to stay and try for more dancing."

"Early spring," says Issedi, taking comfort in the recitation of when her wedding will be, with the definite implication that she's looking forward to it; wishes spring were tomorrow, even, perhaps. There's something possessive about the look she gives her fiance, then, as she sets aside her plate and mug in order to accept the offered dance; she is not letting Riorde take this one. "I think I would like the first one," she says, aiming an apologetic glance to Riorde. "Perhaps you can catch up later." She speaks carefully, warily, uncomfortably.

Zev smiles as he walks with Rhaelyn. "When the person I'm interested in dancing with is ready to go, I don't see a point in lingering."

To Issedi, before she rises to dance, "Sounds lovely." Taking the opportunity to drift away from all the drama, Brieli loses herself in the crowd to find a place to pick over the food on her plate - and possibly some of the discoveries she's made over the evening.

All too bull-like, Taikrin runs roughshod right through the edge of the dancefloor, heedless of the grumbling she leaves in her wake. With wine skin still slung over her shoulder, she calls out as she comes up behind Damaris and her girlfriend, "Bloody flaming /shells/, Ri, you're dragon's the biggest pain in my ass this side of Crom." At least she sounds sober? The irritation melts away now that she's located her girlfriend, and she has a bright smile for her and Damaris-- and absolutely no recognition at all for Issedi and Devaki. "'Least you didn't manage to lose our girl, here." This, of course, in reference to Riorde's candidate that Taikrin has claimed as her own.

Rhaelyn gives Zev a bemused smile and quickly mounts up, "No more wine for you tonight." And once up, she offers him a hand up.

There is so much relief, when she sees the bull charging in their direction. Damaris ghosts back a few paces to make sure Taikrin has a straight shot to Riorde, then slips back up to stand beside her. "Taikrin," she says, and with a sidelong glance for Riorde, moves in to give a one-armed hug. Brief, quick, but it's definitely a hug. "I am so glad to see you." There's a Significant Look cast over towards Issedi and Devaki in indication.

With a slight twist of his wrist once Devaki takes hold of Issedi's hand, he spins her briefly, then starts to lead her to the dance floor. "The Lady has spoken," he says, to Riorde, the look he gives her an odd mingling of apologetic and wry. "We'll talk later," he promises, as he steps towards the middle of the hall, perhaps quickened by Taikrin's arrival. Settling in to join the rest of the dancers, he murmurs quietly to Issedi, "It could be sooner, you know. Our wedding. If you wanted it to be. I'm sure we could import flowers from down south, or something."

There isn't a hint of ill humor about her; Riorde concedes graciously. "Of course." But when she looks at Devaki, she's made inscrutable by the smile she's still sporting. "Later," she agrees before turning to take in Taikrin. "Why, what's he doing?" Riorde answers, like she doesn't know.

It's only once they've stepped well away from the little group (Taikrin gets barely a glance; Issedi is far too distracted, now) that Issedi seems to relax, falling in to position for the dance with the grace she's been taught so carefully. "Mother says there is so much to be prepared, and it wouldn't do to rush things," she points out, lifting blue eyes up so that she can stare, adoringly, into Devaki's. "And I'd like them to be our flowers. Local ones. It's not so many months away." Five. Six. "I can wait that long. Barely."

There's a ghost of curiosity in the way Taikrin looks after Devaki and Issedi, as if recognition /almost/ sparks, but then-- "Bein' an ass," the brownrider repeats. "I've been /looking/ for you like crazy, and he wouldn't tell us where you were." She unslings the wineskin from over her shoulder, pulls the stopper, and takes a swig straight from the mouth before passing it off to Damaris once she's free of that surprise hug. "Glad they let you get away. Here." Surprise-- it's definitely NOT wine in that skin.

"Barely," Devaki murmurs in echo as he spins Issedi around the dance floor. "Well, you know. We could always elope, get married. Then come back and have the proper wedding your mother wants," he suggests, with a particular kind of glint in his gaze. He could just be teasing, but then, perhaps not. He's adept enough on the dance floor that he doesn't really have to think too much about it -- giving time for his gaze to stray across the crowd now and then.

"You're going to get me in so much trouble," Damaris comments dryly, taking the skin and bringing it up for a good solid drink before she passes it back, flashing up a grateful grin. "Thanks. Are you going to dance with me, since Riorde won't? I haven't gotten to dance all night tonight, I've been behaving myself /so well/, and..." She just trails off into a pout, directing it at Riorde. POUTING HERE. HELLO.

Issedi knows that glint. It's barely been more than a sevenday or two, but - she's a fast learner. "And if I turn up pregnant," she murmurs back to him, taking great pains to make sure there's no way anyone can overhear her, "what then? No - we have to wait." But her glance is affectionate as she adds, a little more loudly, "I suppose the end of winter isn't so bad. We'll raise peoples spirits, as they get more and more tired of the cold." She leans in, moving to rest her head on his chest: so much for proper dancing, how about a slow dance.

"Sorry." Riorde sounds a little distracted, though she mostly manages to rein her gaze in and keep it to Taikrin and Damaris. Mostly. "No offense," she tells the candidate. "I just thought maybe it wasn't the right occasion. It being their celebration and us wanting to stay on good terms with the Hold. That sort of thing." Her gaze has drifted off again, towards the happy couple, and she's completely still, watching.

"You can be a very vexing woman, you know that, Edi?" But it's a compliment, coming from Devaki, and he seems content to concede her argument, or maybe just slotting it away for another time. For now, he settles easily into a slow dance that spans several songs.

"She wouldn't? Why not?" Taikrin seems genuinely baffled by this revelation. Her full attention turns to the other brownrider, and she holds the skin out for her to take while she demands, "Who sharding cares? You're a rider. On Szad's shell, what's gotten into you? This's a party, let's just do our thing-- get drunk, dance with all the girls, steal a couple and go home."

There's a look between Riorde and Taikrin, and Damaris's pout fades. She huffs out a little sigh, then puts on a more mild, mellow, normal sort of smile. "It's not a big deal," she says. "I'll go find some stranger to dance with. You guys. Have fun. I'll find somebody to get me back to the Weyr." She brings a hand up to give a little wiggle of her fingers, and then she's ghosting a few paces back and turning to slip off.

Riorde takes the skin, but the rest of what Taikrin has to give isn't accepted so easily. "There's more at stake tonight than just that, you know." She puts the skin to her lips and tips it back, staring at the other brownrider while doing so. The look lasts until Damaris starts to escape, and then Ri hastily says, "Oh, don't let her go off like that. Go dance with her before she winds up in a corner with some holder boy."

Taikrin is downright bewildered now, and more than a little irritated by it. "/What/? You're out of your mind-- who cares about holders marrying each other?" But then, yes, Damaris /is/ running away, and so Taikrin just shoots Riorde a /look/ and shoves off to find her, muttering all the while. "Yo, hold up, girl. I'll do it with you."

The strange one's been watching, of course, this whole time: even if he's done a good job of avoiding the main Weyr contigent--thus far. But now Raum steps forward, out of the crowd and up behind Riorde, one arm reaching too-familiarly around her shoulders before he starts for one of those out-of-the-way corners that still exist, even in these crowds. "Rider," he calls her, in that drawl of his.

She doesn't make it very far before Taikrin's catching her and she's stopping, putting on a patient look. "Riorde is upset," Damaris points out, tone as patient as her smile. "I'm fine, I just want to dance. I can find somebody to dance with me. She won't let me budge her, but you're her girlfriend."

"And she's being a pain in my ass too," Taikrin finishes smoothly. "So I'm going to dance with you." To emphasize her point, the brownrider moves to wrap an arm around Damaris's waist -- in a mostly friendly sort of way. "I'm not dealing with her moodswings tonight. C'mon. Dance with me." Maybe it's not the most romantic proposal ever, but-- Taikrin.

Riorde's smile tightens and turns into something else entirely. She glares at Taikrin's back, all that pleasantry dropping off now that there's no one to maintain it for. And she certainly doesn't keep up appearances for Raum when he materializes out of the blue. "You," she answers. No titles, no names. There's something smugly, darkly satisfied when she says, letting herself be steered away, "I thought I'd find you here."

"I do not understand you two," Damaris complains, but even so there's a touch of pleasure creeping in. Because dancing! It may not be the exact outcome she was going for, but really it does not take much at all for her to stop trying to be altruistic and instead give in to the selfishness. Because Taikrin! And dancing! She wins. Or...something. She leans into the mostly friendly arm around her waist, sliding an arm back around the woman and heading for where the other people are dancing. "I wish you'd gotten here /earlier/."

"One must keep an eye on his Lord," Raum answers without looking at Riorde as he guides her away. "And remove the threats around him." Which means her, in this case, clearly; it's all written there in the equally self-satisfied cat-with-mouse smirk he cants her way.

"Tried. Came here as soon as we were finished up. I would'a been here /quicker/ if someone wasn't being coy about telling me where y'all were," Taikrin confides as she leads Damaris out onto the dance floor. "Here now though, so let's do this thing?" And, at first glance, Taikrin looks androgenous enough with her leathers and cropped hair compared to the frilly Hold women that they probably won't even get too many nasty looks!

"I'm not being cranky, just wistful, it would have been so much more fun," Damaris explains lightly, cheerful now that they've hit the dancefloor. She follows quite happily, settling into dancing with the other woman and totally ignoring any dirty looks that they might get. She's oblivious. Really! Totally doesn't know any better.

"Oh, aye," Riorde agrees, affecting an accent other than her own. "One must." She slings her arm around Raum's waist and off they go in that clearly acquainted way. Riorde cuts a strikingly elegant figure, as done up as she is; instead of the removal of an unwanted element, their progress out of the main gathering looks like something else entirely.