Difference between revisions of "Logs:Turnover Ball"

Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#350RJs)

The day was one of those rare days of cloudless sunshine, and though it's frigid, it's a pleasant change from the wind and storms leading up to this day. Turnover. Last year was most auspicious. Last year, Iovniath rose and the exiles were in chaos and the bonfire and-... but this year? This year, the Headwoman's staff has put together a delightful and hopefully calmer event. The living caverns has been strung with holly in their glossy green leaves and brilliant red berries, gauzy ribbons and drapes and candles. There are harpers play and the buffet is decked out in color as well and those tables and chairs have been pushed to the sides of the room. It's a night for merriness and merry-making. Let's not forget the strategically placed sprigs of mistletoe all throughout the room, something a courageous boy has learned as he leans in to steal a kiss from a much older woman.

Even with his face painted and a mask to cover the rest of his features, K'del is a visible figure: it's the height, the hair, the build, even his stance in general. Exactly what he's dressed at is a little more difficult to determine: something that's brown at the bottom and sort of red and orange and yellow at the top. Weird. He mingles, anyway, sidling around to talk to people in a cheerful, relaxed kind of way.

White feathered and white dressed, Iolene's blonde hair has been done up for the occasion, what little of it you can see of her at any rate and she clutches at the arm of the girl she arrives with. "What if trip?" Never mind her dress isn't anywhere near long enough to trip over. "What if I fall on my face? What if-," behind the mask, those blue eyes get even bigger as a furtive glance casts behind her. "You don't think Iovniath's going to rise again, do you?" Cause last time was just so awesome.

The green dress, with long gloves and a glittered and feathered mask is enough unlike Emme that until one spies the familiar wave and shade of the young woman's hair she may well remain anonymous. Well, that, and until she speaks. And entering just behind Iolene and whomever she's arrived with, she can't help but pipe up. "Blame it on the copious amounts of alcohol you can pretend you've been drinking, if not in fact." she suggests, brightly. "Shhhh, don't say those things. You might just prod her into doing so out of spite."

Drudges, gussied up for the occasion in their own uniform of Reachian dark blue and black though minus the masks, make their way through the crowds carrying trays of canapes and drinks. The drinks seem to be going much faster than the food, though, given this is High Reaches, that's likely to be expected.

Why is Evali here? She hates parties -- or, well, she doesn't /know/ parties, but she hates crowds, and this certainly has the makings of one. Oh, right. Because Yanijath couldn't fit into the living caverns herself and so had to attend by proxy. Her clothing is relatively simple; a long, cotton pale pink dress with a lace back and sleeves. Her mask is white as well, and quite sparkly, but not adorned with anything otherwise; she is very easily identifiable considering her build and stature. The normally everpresent blonde hair is swept up in some updo that it is very obvious Evali didn't do herself. Attempting to best Yanijath's demands, she takes a glass of wine from a drudge and does not make eye contact with anyone.

Iolene bites back a laugh at Emme's comment, and only half succeeds. The once exile, then harper, now brownrider elicits a brilliant smile from Io and an affectionate squeeze of the arm. "Oh here," though there's a flicker of misgiving as some pink liquid concoction passes them by, Iolene plucks two off the tray and passes one over, lifting her own to toast. The fact that they're in the doorway and people are streaming in around them doesn't seem to matter to the young blonde. "To New Turns. And New Beginnings." The capitalization of everything she says can really be heard in her emphases.

Look, over there! It's a man, it's a dragon, it's a -- no -- a /feline/? They're just making all /sorts/ of masks these days, aren't they? This particular feline is dressed in his finest, though, in an awful lot of black, a very fine purple waistcoat with copper buttons, and ... well, a feline mask. One that seems to have gotten some music written on it, for good measure. He's also a terribly /large/ cat, but at least he isn't bathing in front of everyone. (Yet.) Which is to say: Sa'zl ambles in, grinning at everyone -- rather disturbing, the way he /doesn't/ have any fangs, really! -- and helps himself to a glass of wine.

Lirienne ended up having to go with quick and easy. For her, it's a bare-arm dress in grayish-blue, lacking any decoration or embrodery, but for a simple belt of yellow cord. Distinctively copper-red hair is piled up, escaping into long curls that brush the nape of her neck, while a plain cloth mask of matching blue 'hides' her ident.ity

Out in the middle of the open floor, a particularly coquettish greenrider shimmies on up to a man dressed all in black and takes him, willing or not, on a fast-paced dance as the harpers begin to pick up their tunes.

Emme bites back a laugh of her own at Iolene's reaction, taking the pink fizzy liquid thing when it's offered to her and clinking glasses with the weyrling weyrwoman at the apt toast. "New Turns, and New Beginnings." she agrees, drinking down at least half the glass's contents without an ounce of hesitation. She missed out on last years party, and apparently intends to make up for it this time! "C'mon, let's see if we can find the others. I see Evali." she whispers, practically skipping her way over there after she suggests it.

Coming in, Riorde bumps up against Emme and Iolene in the doorway - and pauses there to join and expand their little cluster. The neat elegance of her simple black dress and the low chignon her dark hair's been swept up in is rather undone by the fact that she's anxious, shifting from one foot to the other and scanning the room that's filling up fast; behind her mask, also black, her eyes dart. "Hi," she comes in during the middle of the toast, before Emme heads for Evali.

Iolene is about to trail after Emme and Evali, but she's markedly slower as those distinctively blue eyes seem to seek through the crowds and comes short in the throngs of costumes and masks that obscure familiarity. In her distraction, Riorde's earlier entrance was missed, that is, until she's turning again to find Emme and finds Riorde instead and another of her smiles blossoms, "You look so lovely. I mean, I knew you did but somehow the atmosphere makes it all the more exciting. It's almost like-," the slender girl flushes, "It reminds me of the weddings we had back on the island. But a lot more elaborate. Emme spotted Evali, but I can't even find anyone anymore."

Lirienne, clutching a familiar shawl like a security scarf, slips in with several of the others. However, the crowd streams towards tables or semi-familiar strangers while Liri heads towards a bit of wall to support, eyes flittering from costume to costume. Occasionally, there's a bit of a stare, such as when a feline is spotted.

Tiriana's dress is a long black-and-gold brocade number, a corset-style bust flaring into a fuller skirt. It's really pretty and expensive-looking even if Holly can't find a picture of it to prove it. She (Tiriana, not Holly) is also wearing a black mask edged in gold that mostly pays lip service to the idea of hiding her identity. All the kids are in bed, so she and R'uen (equally dapper, all in black) are moving through the crowd to make the usual rounds.

Riorde makes a concentrated, visible effort toward composure and makes her hands like flat at her sides, though even then she can't help rubbing the smooth, satiny fabric beneath her fingers. "Thanks," she replies to Iolene, managing a quick smile. "I guess it is -- except now we have new dresses." And new materials to boot. "I'm glad we all got ready together. That was like the weddings, too. Where's Evali?" She looks beyond Iolene, looking for where Emme's got to, and winds up staring at Tiriana instead. "Wow," she murmurs, sotto voce. "That's..." The words fail her; Riorde isn't used to glamour. She directs Iolene's attention instead, with a nod. "Look at her."

Hypatia is always late for things. This time, though, her rather belated entrance may actually be considered fashionable, especially as she's not the last to arrive. Her outfit has had quite some bit of work put into it: the dress is dark cobalt blue and strapless, several layers of sheer chiffon overlaying the sisal underneath and stopping just above the knee, with a peach ribbon secured around her waist. The very same peach is in some, but not all, of the many feathers at the top of her mask, which are in a few layers and tier up about eight inches high. Some of the others match the blue of the dress, and others are black. Despite the ornateness of the mask, though, anyone who actually knows her would be able to identify her based on the fact she's been talking about making the mask for quite a while. She doesn't mingle much, though, instead choosing to perch on the end of a chair and watch everyone else. Quality entertainment!

Evali is over here! Standing around, sipping from a glass of wine, and actually catching sight of the approach of Emme. She smiles, and notably remembers to wave with the hand /not/ holding the wine. She's tall, and so maybe the others will notice them soon enough. "Rhazekth wishing to be inside like Yanijath is?" she pries, looking mildly amused. "She is giving me orders."

Iolene follows Riorde's stunned look and finds Tiriana, an instant flush rising on her cheeks. Her eyes quickly avert and in doing so finds Evali and Emme again and reaches for Riorde's arm, "C'mon, I see them over there." With her pink drink in hand, she navigates the people to where Evali and Emme are. "Hey, I thought I lost you for a second there," she says of Emme, "But then I saw the back of your head and, my, you know that dress is absolutely stunning, right?"

"Rhazekth is content so far to just pry me with questions. What are people wearing, what are they saying, what are you drinking... why is it fizzy..." Emme replies, giving Evali a smile. "WHat's Yanijath ordering you to do?" When she hears Iolene's familiar voice again her head turns; in time to stare in flabbergasted awe at Tiriana's dress. And then to blink in pleased surprise. "Thank you, Io. I think we all look absolutely marvelous." Her darting gaze includes Ri and Evali in there too. "We /are/ all going to get out there and dance right? Right?"

A group of wingmates steal R'uen away, and while Tiriana glowers at them, her weyrmate only has a disarming smile and a kiss on the cheek for her, which diminishes the length of Tiriana's sulk enough that shortly she continues on her way, threading through the crowds to get a glass of wine before she actually gets down to socializing. It's the weyrling girls that draw her attention first, probably because they're looking at her, and she steps over toward their group. "Girls," she says, suitably smug.

Surprisingly, K'del's not with Milani -- indeed, the red-haired former Headwoman is no one in sight. The bronzerider, however, seems perfectly content without the arm-candy, and sweeps on towards the drinks table to order himself a drink. Whiskey in hand, he hovers back away from the crowds, watching from his height-aided vantage point.

Riorde keeps up with Iolene rather than be left lingering in the entrance by herself. Along the way, she snatches up a drink from the first circulating drudge she sees and ends up with white wine. It gives her something to do with her hands. "Suppose so - we had those dancing lessons for a reason, right? Why, is there someone you want to dance with?" She teases Emme, and then the lightheartedness drops off as Tiriana approaches. "Weyrwoman," she replies, her tone even and correct.

Iolene is all for the dancing, her hands, never mind the bubbly in one of them, trying to reach forward for one girl's hand each. "We should do the wedding dance!" Io declares. The flush Tiriana induced now becoming one of perhaps the highest joy she's displayed since their move. And then the Weyrwoman interrupts and there's a sudden diffidence to the blonde's shoulder set, though she doesn't turn to look to the owner of the familiar voice.

"I do not --" Evali had started to say in response to Emme's question about the dancing, but the sudden arrival of Weyrwoman has her falling immediately silent. Her expression evens out to its typical neutral, her own cheery amusement fading. Respectfully, she nods, and echoes Riorde's greeting with a "Ma'am" in a near-identical tone of voice.

"Maaaaaaybe." Emme keeps her voice light and teasing, stringing her answer to Riorde along a loooong syllable. But the idea of the wedding dance? Ooooh, now that makes her light up. "We //should//. Oh, we have to now! It's been too long since we've had the chance to celebrate like this. I.." Her effusive agreement is cut off by Tiriana's approach, and she offers a nod. "Weyrwoman. That's an incredible dress." is offered, politely. And suddenly finding her glass empty, eyes dart around looking for anything alcoholic.

Diffidence quickly turns into departure, and Iolene doesn't wait around for Tiriana to speak further. Nodding apologetically for her abruptness, and favoring her friends with a wane smile, the blonde drifts away, towards more familiar. The white-clad girl sidles up to a woman in blue and elbow nudges Lirienne, "Hey. You made it. Are you doing ok?"

But it isn't something alcoholic that Emme sees first, but rather that large feline-inclined fellow from before! Because Sa'zl is attuned enough to Weyr politics and his weyrlings' emotional states that he can tell none of the lovely ladies in front of him are actually /happy/ to have the Weyrwoman's attention, you see. And so that feline-inclined fellow -- so suave! so handsome! -- swoops in, between approaching Weyrwoman and gaggle of finely-dressed weyrlings, and bows oh-so-low, sweeping an imaginary hat off his head. "My fine lady!" he cries out, bending to one knee in supplication, "will thou not honor thy knight with a dance?" Does he know what a knight is? Of course not, who does? But that's the language!

Lirienne was not expecting company - rather taken by all the people- and mask-watching as she was. There's a startled jump, then a flood of color up to the fact, "Oh! Ah... Iolene? Right?" There is some peering, before she nods once. "I'm uhm, doing well. Everyone's looking, well, fabulous," she admits, a bit of a smile appearing. "Or amazing, uhm, in the case of yours."

Iolene lifts the corner of her mask so Lirienne might see her face. "Thank you. It's... different. It's my first real dress that's mine and only mine and-," halfway through, apparently realizing just how materialistic she sounds, the blonde teenager halts her words and laughs one of those shamed little laughs. "You look so lovely too. Have you danced yet? Did you get a drink?" Her feet tap to the beat in accompaniment to her words.

People-watching seems to be in; or, at least, it's in in one section of the party, as Hypatia isn't sitting too far from K'del's hovering location. She raises a glass to him even if he /isn't/ looking in her direction, simply because he evidently has good taste in what to do at parties, and says, "Weyrleader. Seems like a great party."

Drinks all around, right? One of those fancied-up drudges is fancied up so far as to be wearing a journeyman vintner's knot at his shoulder, and an awfully fancy mask, too... wait, maybe this one /isn't/ a drudge. He is, however, circulating around with a tray filled with wineglasses in various stages of "completely full" and "completely empty", and he offers that tray to the two ladies he's just approached -- namely, Iolene and Lirienne. Are either of them going to recognize Zerenynio-call-me-Zeren? Especially be-masked?

Riorde, watching Sa'zl interpose himself between the girls and Tiriana, takes just the tiniest step back. In her mind, his gesture - as good intentioned as it was - doesn't end well.

The glass raised in K'del's direction? No, he doesn't notice that. But his title - that's apparently harder to ignore. He turns, mouth twisting ruefully as he considers Hypatia, though a more genuine smile follows. "It does, doesn't it?" he agrees, with a contented bob of his head. "Seems like people came up with some interesting clothes to wear, too. It's nice-- relaxing. Happy turnover."

Lirienne no-doubt doesn't. Between the apprentice healer's own tendencies towards meekness, and an absence from the Weyr, names and faces are foggy. However, upon the offer of a drink, Liri grabs one of the partially filled glasses, then shakes her head at Io. "N-no. Never been much for, uhm, all that." Then, to the server, "Thank you." Taking a very very tiny sip, hardly as much as wetting her lips, she then offers a bit more true - and startled - smile. "It tastes, hm, light." Wine-tasting skills, she lacks.

The courtly charade makes Tiriana's lips purse up, and she draws herself up straighter for it. "I will not," she says, mouth curving into a faint sneer. "I don't care to dance with fools, so if you don't mind." If all her other prey escapes in the meantime, well, at least that much is accomplished. Tiriana eyes them all over Sa'zl's shoulder, eyes narrowing behind her mask.

Iolene lifts her own pink bubbly, not much imbibed from, as an excuse and takes a moment to take in Zerenynio's colorful mask. "You look like a jester. I've read about them that some Lord Holders used to keep them around to make people laugh." The white feather-masked weyrling allows the smallest smile to play at the corners of her lips. "We should dance. There's this dance we used to do, back home. Where the girls would link arms in a chain and dance in figure eights around the men."

Oh poor Sa'zl. He means well. Obviously. And then Ri steps back some, and Emme just feels -bad-. So first she leans over to murmur something at Evali, then leaning over to tap the weyrling bluerider on the shoulder. "I'll dance with you, if you like." she offers lightly, regardless of the Weyrwoman's sneer.

"And I," says Zerenynio, bowing a little over his tray to Iolene, "make fools of all men, by providing them with their drinks." He grins at her, quicksilver brief, before turning back to Lirienne with a gentler smile. "I'm glad you like it -- I /hope/ you like it -- it has some pear mixed in with the grape. /I/ am rather fond of how it turned out, at least."

Evali had just opened her mouth to speak when Emme beat her to it with her whisper; the greenrider's brows furrow a little bit, and there's an almost-imperceptible smile there, too. But she certainly doesn't get in the way of brownrider and bluerider's dancing departure, and rather merely offers encouragement. "Have fun," she says, and then inches closer to Riorde. Protect her.

Sa'zl droops, at first, as the Weyrwoman rejects him. It had seemed like such a /good/ plan! -- Maybe she just doesn't like felines? And then there's Emme, turning back to save /him/, and so she gets a grateful look indeed, once he's up on both his feet again. "I'm a good dancer," he promises Emme. "Light on my feet, like any other cat!" He's certainly less prone to falling down than some, including his own Yggdratth. Emme's turn, now, to receive a courtly bow, and then perhaps even a dance.

"Pear? Ah, well, I /do/ like pears," Lirienne allows, her knowledge of brewing any sort of spirit or wine below that of bedrock. Wide eyes, however, turn towards Iolene as color sinks down away from her fact, not quite blanching. ".. I would trip people, and, uhm, someone would get hurt." At least, there is that possibility.

"Happy turnover to you too, sir," Hypatia replies, smile broadening a bit. She seems glad to have someone to actually talk to. "The masks are quite -- inventive. So far. It's really great fun to watch what people are doing." Well, mostly; the exchange between weyrlings and Weyrwoman is noted with a lowering and shaking of the head. "Oh, Saz."

"Ok." And in that one word answer, Iolene does a remarkable job at hiding her own crestfallenness. Her first attempt at dancing smashed by Tiriana's arrival, her second, by her companion's shyness. Instead, the lips beneath that white and gold mask flash Lirienne a comforting smile and then, then she's turning to consider the vintner all over again. "You must have a lot of fun testing out your products."

Riorde toys with her wine glass, watching the exchange without too much overt interest - the sort of boring observer prone to disappear into the background. She glances at Evali as the other two weyrlings pair off to dance and tries for a lighter mood: "You didn't want to dance with him? I bet that was really intended for you -- Sa'zl just gets confused sometimes and forgets which way he's facing." She looks at Tiriana then. "I thought you might kick him."

"I think," K'del grins, making the paint on his face crack - it really isn't going to stay looking good for long, at this rate, "that some people start planning for these things months in advance. It's kind of nice to see." His gaze follows Hypatia's towards the Weyrwoman and the weyrlings, his expression turning briefly unreadable. "She has a way with words, the Weyrwoman."

Zerenynio watches Iolene, at first, for all that his lips are still curved in that same smile -- funny, since he was /supposed/ to be watching Lirienne, a moment ago. "The benefit of a masque like this, of course," he says lightly, "is that, even if you /should/ trip and fall and injure someone, nobody would know it was you... although I think you might be able to fix whatever ailed them, besides." Is she wearing her knot? Can /he/ recognize /her/, regardless? Hey, look, there's space on this table for him to slide the tray on and down and out of his hands, if he juggles carefully enough to get /those/ glasses /on/ it, at the same time. How nifty. And now his eyebrow is raised -- pity that that's lost behind his mask, for the most part -- at Iolene. "I think you wanted to dance, though," he tells her. "Would you care for a dance with me? I'm not an entire group of girls holding hands, but if you want, I'll pretend I am."

Emme just smirks the tiniest bit, offering her arm after the courtly bow so that they can briefly meld into the crowd of people dancing. "I think Evali needs the next rescue though. She's so shy." is prompted. "I did tell her I would drag her off to the dance floor next, but..." if he were to do so instead, well. "I think maybe the Weyrwoman was mistreated as a child. That's the only explanation I can come up with for someone being so mean-spirited." That, of course, is said in the must hushed voice possible and only when they're well clear of the others! "Or maybe someone poisons her breakfast with bitch powder every morning."

Lirienne is not wearing a knot, but the hair - if nothing else - is distinctive. At the fallen expression and then Zerenynio's offer, a smile appears. "Th-that is a wonderful idea. I could, er, walk the glasses, maybe?" she offers, looking from one to the other before eyeing the crowd at large.

"But," Iolene ventures Lirienne a look that speaks much of her earnestness not to abandon the wallflower healer to well, the walls. "Are you sure?" is what she ends up saying, though struggling to dampen the hope in her dark eyes.

Zerenynio grins at both of them, and reaches out to Lirienne, first, to cover her hand with his -- admonishing, really. "You /absolutely/ don't have to," he tells her firmly. "Believe me, people /will/ come and find the drinks, even if nobody is passing them out. And if you stand next to them, you're likely to be hit upon by those who are thoroughly inebriated, so you might consider dancing away from here once you have a fresh drink -- whether or not you're going to dance with either one of us." And then he retrieves his hand, takes a small sip from one of the almost-empty glasses (he has, at least, been keeping track of which one is /his/, which is more than he can say for any of the /other/ glasses), sets it back down empty, and holds his hand out imperiously to Iolene, to lead her back onto the floor.

Lirienne's eyes widen a bit at the idea of that happening - and the room gets quickly scanned away as she steps away from the platter. "Ah, good point, sir." That done, she struggles, then overcomes a bit of discomfort to nod at Iolene, and shoo with her free hand. "D-dance one for me, m-maybe. I'm sure!"

Sa'zl is a surprisingly ept dancer, as it turns out -- just about as far away from inept as anyone might imagine, considering he's such a big guy. On the other hand, those who grew up alongside him, or remember him growing up, are liable to remember that he was always pretty good at wrestling matches, and those do tend to require a certain amount of fancy footwork. Perhaps the surprise is just that he knows the dance steps, much less how to lead Emme around the floor; he's doing a pretty good job of it, and they're not bumping into anyone else. He's also delighted in a truly ghastly-horrified way at Emme's thoughts on the Weyrwoman, and is completely cheered up from how horribly she crushed his dreams. "You should dance with Evali next," he decides, "and then I can ask her for the /next/ dance after /that/! That way she won't be surprised, and she'll already be dancing so it won't seem hard to say yes." A sharp nod of decisions made, and then the whimsical, child-like grin is back on Sa'zl's face, barely visible beneath his mask. "She might special-order her breakfast that way every day, the night before, before it's worn off from that morning, so she doesn't give herself the choice to be nice," he whispers, and then sends Emme out into a spin.

"Mine only took something like sixteen days," Hypatia confesses to K'del, as regards her mask. "But I made it to match the dress, which is from my seventeenth turnday which was quite a while ago, so I suppose I am one of those people, really. And yes," of Tiriana, "she -- does, as far as I've witnessed. You don't have to be the most diplomatic person in the world to be a good Weyrwoman, at least." Her expression indicates approval of, at least, Tiriana's leadership style if not her social good graces.

K'del seems mildly impressed at the precision of Hypatia's answer, admitting, cheerfully, "I just threw some things together at the last minute, kind of. Too much else to think about, unfortunately. Still." He doesn't seem unhappy with the way his outfit turned out... whatever it is actually supposed to be. "No, that's true," he allows, of Tiriana. "You don't forget her, either. That's probably important. Wonder if she'll turn /me/ down for a dance, too."

Lirienne's assent seems to allay some of Iolene's fears and the hand she offers Zerenynio is the one that was, only seconds ago, holding her pink drink. A pink bubbly drink that is now polluting the tray with the various wines. "Please don't step on my toes," is all she says, though there's a hint of a joke in that low, rich voice of hers. "Do you think she'll be ok? I convinced her to come."

Good thing for Emme that Sa'zl is a good dancer. It's not that she's bad at it really, it's just that she has comparatively little experience. Or lessons. She's just happy not to be stepping on feet, and equally happy to have ghastly horrified and amused someone all at the same time. "Agreed." she decides, on dancing with Evali next. And then he after that. And the special-order-breakfast remark just sends the brownrider into a fit of giggles before she's sent into a spin. That, with the champagne, making her decidedly dizzy. "I can see I shouldn't drink a lot. /Oh well/!"

And Riorde is the winner; the first person to get Evali's expression to morph into a genuine grin. Which she immediately feels guilty for, but fails to perfectly wash away. "I do not know, really, if I should like to dance with anyone -- one-on-one, that is. Not very experienced. And these shoes." She gives the heels a disapproving look. Stupid bossy wardrobe-dictating dragon. Her glance travels back Tiriana-wards, once she's spoken, curious what the verdict is on kicking.

Zerenynio grins at Iolene again. "I promise not to step on your toes often enough that you'll notice," he vows solemnly, with a single glance back at Lirienne before he adds, "and I think she'll probably be better if she isn't standing next to the wine, for at least two reasons. If she isn't having fun, it shouldn't be too hard for her to sneak away, either. She'll be okay." He's pretty confident of that, but then, he's never felt out-of-sorts in a giant crowd of party-goers, either. At least this one's a fast one; the band is feeling jazzy.

"Well," says Riorde, more casual than gallant, "if you wanted to give it a try, we could always have a go - just think of it like the weddings back in the island like Io was saying earlier. Instead of, you know, with lots of people you don't know." Staring. And possibly cutting in.

Lirienne does, in fact, move away from the platter with drinks. However, she takes her own with her, the better to people watch. And to stare - especially at those cutting in on the dancers. However, for all that, she practices her wallflower abilities, and fades quite well into the background.

Iolene has to laugh at that, more a giggle than an outright laugh and for a girl from the sticks, she's surprisingly adept at the whole dancing concept. Then again, it's all about moving, and her prior occupation comes out in her lithe movements. "If you think so. I used to love parties back at home." But the dancing can lead to breathlessness and so instead of talking, she just shimmies and shakes so the features atop her mask bobble happily.

"That would look bad," is Hypatia's first guess as far as K'del's getting refused by Tiriana. "Wouldn't it? Pass along the image you can't work together diplomatically if you can't dance together -- unless she just turns everyone down, then it looks fair and equal." Tiny, but noticable, shrug. "I like yours, even if I can't tell exactly what you were aiming for. I'm extremely bad at that sort of thing."

Evali seems to be considering this idea -- and then, eventually, nods. "Emme was going to make me," she tells Riorde softly, "but I suppose I can dance with you first, and then her, and look as if I have skill. I am surprised you are not dancing with Taikrin." Evali would rather not get the evil eye for being a girlfriend thief, and yet as she hasn't /spotted/ Taikrin, she might be safe.

K'del's laugh is quiet, but not bitter. "People have always assumed that about us. But we get along, for better or for worse." He glances down at his clothes, head shaking. "I was going for a torch. You know-- lighting up the long winter nights, something like that? That's what a few minutes of thought gets you, I guess."

The little smile that was left disappears altogether, and Riorde rediscovers her wine. "I don't think that's going to happen." She looks for some place to deposit her now empty glass, which conveniently entails breaking eye contact with Evali. She steps away momentarily to rid herself of the glass, and it's with a brisk sort of determination as she picks up, "But Charlie," Ch'vaz, "said he'd dance with me later. Shall we?" Off and out onto the dance floor.

Once again, Hypatia looks K'del up and down -- this time with the knowledge of what she's /supposed/ to be seeing, and that makes all the difference. She smiles. "Now that you tell me, I definitely get it -- you need a name-tag, or something, and then people will appreciate it more. I think it's clever. I'm not actually supposed to be anything. Except feathery."

"Feathery," repeats the Weyrleader, and it makes him laugh. "A name-tag. Well-- maybe I'll just leave people guessing. At worst, I look like I just decided to paint myself and wear a dumb mask, and I'm surprisingly okay with that." He's had at least one or two drinks; that much is pretty obvious, though he's far from actually drunk. "If you'll excuse me? I should-- mingle. Be polite."

Zerenynio is definitely enjoying the dance with Iolene, right up through its end -- this is a slower tune, and he hesitates, smiling at her, bright-eyed and breathing a little hard from exertion. "Did you want to keep dancing?"

Winded, though not as much as Zerenynio it would seem (those weyrling drills seem to have done the girl some good), Iolene takes in a long breath and exhales slowly. Her cheeks are flushed for the dancing but possibly more for the fun had and as the song slows, she too hesitates. A moment starry-eyed thought is given the situation and the colorfully masked man before her before a hand extends. "Tell me about yourself." A beat later, she's ruining the whole reason for masks and introduces herself with, "I'm Iolene."

Now, even as they dance, Evali looks -- guilty, primarily. "I am sorry, Riorde; I had not meant to upset you." Had she forgotten about a split she certainly knew about, or had she expected Taikrin to see the error of her ways for deciding weyrlings were a bad idea? Could have been either one. Or Evali just isn't able to take breakups seriously. "Is he nice? Ch'vaz? We have barely spoken, though Yanijath is fond of Hiyanoth."

Zerenynio certainly doesn't mind, nor is he /really/ attempting to be all that anonymous, considering his earlier lurking near the wines. "My name is Zerenynio," he answers, the mouthful coming easily from his lips, and sweeps Iolene back out to the floor. Slower dances are good for talking, anyway! "You're more than welcome to call me Zeren; nearly everyone here does." Again, he smiles. "Or they call me 'that guy who talks a lot and never really seems to shut up once you get him going,' sometimes. I'm a vintner, by craft, and /you/, I believe, ride gold." Because rumors get around.

"You've been doing a good job of it so far," Hypatia offers by way of encouragement, or an endorsement of K'del's mingling skills. "And so, now I have been mingled with and you're free to mingle with others." She offers another smile, and then is lost again to her people-watching. At least it seems her touched vintner friend is having fun.

Beneath her mask, Iolene's cheeks burn and those dark blue eyes of hers shift away suddenly at Zerenynio's observations of who, or what she is. "Yeah. I'm the mistake." But it's uttered so lightheartedly; she's gotten so much better at waving off this Tiriana-designation as a self-mocking joke. "I have something to confess," she says immediately thereafter, head bending inward to Zerenynio. "I don't really like wine very much. I usually end up sick after drinking it."

The day was one of those rare days of cloudless sunshine, and though it's frigid, it's a pleasant change from the wind and storms leading up to this day. Turnover. Last year was most auspicious. Last year, Iovniath rose and the exiles were in chaos and the bonfire and-... but this year? This year, the Headwoman's staff has put together a delightful and hopefully calmer event. The living caverns has been strung with holly in their glossy green leaves and brilliant red berries, gauzy ribbons and drapes and candles. There are harpers play and the buffet is decked out in color as well and those tables and chairs have been pushed to the sides of the room. It's a night for merriness and merry-making. Let's not forget the strategically placed sprigs of mistletoe all throughout the room, something a courageous boy has learned as he leans in to steal a kiss from a much older woman.

"It's okay," Riorde insists between one spin and the next. "It's not --" She trails off, the end of her thought dangling as she skips to less sore subjects. "Yeah, he is. We work together on the, um, class stuff. You should try talking to him sometime-- he probably thinks you don't like him." Her joke falls flat. "Cause, you know, we're always spending time with each other but not always altogether, you know, with the others." The non-exile weyrlings.

"I," says Evali, and finds herself at a loss for words. Considering she doesn't really try talking to /anyone/ except people those she already considers friends are already talking to right in front of her. She allows herself to be distracted by dancing for a moment, and then tries again with, "Maybe they all think that of me. Yanijath seems to make up for it." She does seem to be /enjoying/ dancing, despite her initial protests.

Zerenynio gives Iolene a very solemn look, and spins her, in turn. Once she's safely back in his arms, he tells her, "That sounds like a terrible mistake, indeed -- either you're drinking too much of it, not enough of other things, you haven't eaten, you /have/ eaten, or it really just doesn't agree with you and you should consider cultivating a taste for something else. It's usually a good idea, as a gold rider, to have /something/ mildly alcoholic you can drink -- not because you /should/ be drinking, or getting drunk, that is, so much as it is that you'll be looked at oddly by certain parties if you're never seen consuming alcohol. There are, after all, those riders who set a great deal of store by the idea of getting very drunk very frequently, and they have to trust you, too." Note he did not say 'like'. Or agree that she, as a goldrider, was a mistake.

At some point, Taikrin stole into the living caverns. It's hard to say when, precisely, because she's unusually subdued in both dress and manner. And, even more shocking, she appears to be totally sober -- and intending to stay that way. Given the events of last turnover, this should not be a huge surprise. She's migrated slowly to the edge of the dance floor, arms folded loosely across her plain white shirt, and seems to be content watching the weyrlings dance. Well. One weyrling, in particular. And maybe not so much content as resigned, and maybe a little sad.

Spun and returned, Iolene presses into the vintner's body and follows his lead quite well, despite a lack of lessons. "By drinking?" There's a note of dubiousness in the weyrling's voice and in her face at the Zerenynio says. "I gain trust by drinking?" The second question brings on a new element, confusion, as she tries to figure out how this jumbled logic works.

"I'm teasing," Riorde backpedals. "I'm sure he doesn't really think that. Everyone knows you're..." How to stay polite? Not Riorde's forte. "Shy," she finishes, accompanied by a smile to subtract from any negative sting. "But you should try it sometime - we've all been living together for ages, so it can't hurt, right?" Her posture suddenly stiffens; she's noticed Taikrin, and is now all too keen to dance with Evali in the other direction.

Sa'zl has been having a blast dancing with Emme, but Emme is intent on dancing with Evali, if only -- according to what she'd said to Sa'zl earlier -- so that he could then dance with Evali, too. And so, as the music changes again, Sa'zl is left off on the sidelines alone, not so far away from Hypatia. He watches Emme heading for her next dance partner for a moment, and then spots Hypatia, and grins at her under his feline mask. "Hi there," he offers. "Were you dancing, or just holding up the wall? I'm pretty sure it's supposed to stay there permanently."

Evali is, at least, not insulted by being called shy. And probably would have been okay with any other similar but less polite conclusion, for that matter; she seems comfortable either with Riorde or blunt honesty, and it's likely both. "Yanijath will be so glad you agree with her," she says with a little bit of a laugh, and makes no comment on the fact that they are now heading a different way than they had been before. She's not the one leading, and so she will go in whichever direction she's led. (Within reason.)

Zerenynio nods, grinning. "Yeah, actually -- believe it or not. It's /more/ common with men, but I wouldn't go so far as to claim that women didn't do it, too, or that men didn't expect women to drink. Something about how it's not manly /not/ to drink? And then they go and expect women to be manly, too, even if they're supposed to be the spitting image of femininity, and I don't know what that would be, or be supposed to be, if /not/ a goldrider." Don't worry, Iolene. Everyone ends up confused by Zeren at /some/ point or another.

Good, Riorde and Evali dancing the other way makes it that much easier for Taikrin to drift after them without causing a ruckus. And then there she is, coming up behind Riorde to tap the weyrling gently on the shoulder with a curiously determined expression on her face that's softened only marginally by a faint, lopsided smile. Her voice is husky, as if from disuse, and the accent is thicker than ever. "Mind if I take a turn, ladies?"

And confused she is. But the dance is soon to end, and Iolene comes to a halt without music to help her movements along. "I don't think I understood half of what you said, but-," But that's ok. It's all in the expression, that half-curved smile that traces straight on up to her glittering eyes. "Thank you. For the dances and the advice." Tip toes try to see through the crowd to where Lirienne was, and finds no healer. "I guess-, I guess she either found someone else to talk to," unlikely, "Or went home."

Hypatia's eyebrow climbs very high indeed, though it's impossible to be seen underneath her mask. She lets out a tiny bark of a laugh, and tells the bluerider with a sage nod, "No, you're right. I'm totally here to keep the wall up. But -- if -- are you /sure/ it'll stay here permanently?" she asks, leaning closer to him, an intensity in her tone. "Like, I don't need to support it in this chair? Because if you can confirm that, and be /completely/ sure, I guess we could dance." By the end of her comment, she's grinning.

"Well, that's two against one. Three, if we count Sforzath. And we should, since he and Yanijath get on so well. So there you have it!" Riorde finishes with a verbal flourish, a triumphant note that rings firm, definitive. All that's lost in the instant that Taikrin comes up behind them; Riorde has that frozen, dragon-bearing-down-on-you look that leaves her not quite sure what to say or do -- Taikrin's supposed to be on the other side of the room, isn't she? "Uh, well--" Slow to recover, she is, with colour rising in her cheeks.

What was that Evali had dismissed earlier, about being stared down by Taikrin for being a girlfriend stealer? Right. The greenrider only has a moment to nod in solidarity to Riorde's proclamation; she at least appears to be okay with the fact that two dragons and a friend are ganging up on her to make her sociable. They're being kind about it! Taikrin's interruption, though, has her frozen, staring at her wide-eyed. Blink. Blink. "That -- would be her choice," she eventually comes up with, awkward, and shooting another quick guilty look Riorde's way.

"We could look for her, if you're worried," Zeren suggests lightly to Iolene, and then -- without really waiting for that much of an answer -- extends her his arm, so that she has one to lean on or at least hold onto courteously while they make their way off the dance floor, to find out whether or not poor Lirienne has died of mortification from being hit on by any of /those/ riders. You know which ones.

Sa'zl's eyes are very solemn, for all that it's not the easiest thing in the world to see them behind his mask, as he nods to Hypatia. "I am in fact absolutely and completely certain that the wall will remain exactly where it is, whether or not you remain in your seat," he vows solemnly to the healer apprentice. "I'm /pretty/ sure, in fact, that it's been there since before either you or I was born, and probably longer besides! So now," he concludes impishly, "you'll dance with me, because you promised!" And she doesn't get much more of a chance to object before he's swooping her off to the floor!

Not finding Lirienne at all, even with the kind support of a man to lean against while she tiptoes, Iolene then turns to Zerenynio and leans up to pecck the guy on the cheek. "Thanks again. I should go find my friends." And Io being Io, she whirls about in her pretty white dress and feathered mask and wanders the party, avoiding one of her friends in a conspicuous show down with Taikrin.

In this sea of girlish fluttering, Taikrin is solid and confident as a rock, as if the very /idea/ of being turned down was unfathomable. "Well. If she don't mind, then." Her smile broadens, Taikrin at her most charming, but her eyes are dark-smudged and cheekbones more prominent. "I hear tell I ain't half-bad at this turnover dancing bit. And I reckon I can promise not to be crushin' toes." Then, more quietly, because she can't help herself, "Or mussin' such a fine dress."

Sa'zl has left.

Riorde recovers all at once, sounding and looking annoyed - some of that annoyance being self-directed. "Fine," she agrees in a clipped tone, "I'll dance with you. Evali--" She turns back towards the other weyrling with a perfunctory smile, but real warmth present when she says, "See you later? Thanks." She doesn't specify what for, but it could cover several things: the dance, the chat, the support.

Evali's response is sincere and accompanied by a just-as-true smile as she releases Riorde to Taikrin and says, "Yes. Of course -- and always." She offers a proper wave in Riorde's direction, as well as a nod and respectful, but not overly clipped, "Brownrider," to Taikrin as she escapes out into the crowd -- or just escapes from the crowd.

Zerenynio has left. Evali has left.

"Be fun, promise," Taikrin encourages. And then, to Evali, because she's feeling magnanimous: "I'll take good care of her." A hand is held out for Riorde to take, complete with a mildly ridiculous half-bow that has her sweeping her other arm out wide. To complete the image, she gravels up at Riorde with that same half-smile, "If you'd do me th'honor..?"

Despite herself, Riorde's lips twitch with a smile at the exaggerated, farcical gesture -- instead of stepping away from it like she did with Sa'zl, now, after a hesitation in which to school herself back to stoicism, she steps towards. "Just one," she lays out the conditions on the onset as she takes Taikrin's hand. Riorde looks at the rider cautiously, the study unmistakable from this close distance.

"'Course," is the brownrider's easy agreement as she straightens. Her fingers wrap gently around Riorde's, while her other hand hovers delicately at the small of her back as if the weyrling might break under too much strain. And then? Dancing. It's Taikrin's instinct to lead, and she's not half-bad at it despite the fact that she's mostly just returning Riorde's study with a curious look of her own. Up close, she really doesn't look all that great: sallow skin, dark circles, hair in need of a trim (though it's clean and brushed back tonight). Nevertheless, she's clearly determined to enjoy her single dance.

Riorde is hardly breakable though; all these months of physical training coupled with what's now over a Turn's worth of proper nourishment mean that any inclination towards frailty is long gone. Following, Riorde settles into the rhythm, and for a time goes through the steps silently in the midst of everyone else's chatter and laughter. Then, "You look like shit." She doesn't bother with tact, but sounds a little less certain and direct when she follows that with, "Are you okay?"

"Gettin' by. You know me." The contact remains feather-light, the distance Taikrin holds herself to polite and appropriate for friends-- not particular /good/ friends, at that. "Seems like bein' a weyrling's agreeing with you, yeah?" She falters, something in her smile growing fixed as she adds, "Y'seem happy. I'm glad t'see it, me. Like you're doin' okay, now?" Because before she wasn't, apparently?

"Uh huh," is Riorde's response, maybe to the answer to her query after Taikrin, maybe as to how she likes weyrlinghood -- but altogether skeptical. "I'm fine," she states more firmly than she needs to, with a smile to prove it. The smile stays, forced on. "We have our own weyr now. Be flaming soon."

"Heard tell y'all moved out. You get a good one?" Because she definitely hasn't been stalking Riorde. No. Definitely not. That asn't been Szadath tailing them last seven, to see where they've been going, no sir. "Flaming's the best part. 'Least, Szad liked it best. And Iskiveth." Though the sting from the goldrider's transfer has faded, she still says the name like a curse, and her grip briefly tightens before she can master the impulse. Instead, she repeats, "Makes me happy to see y'all doin' good. Bein' happy."

"Yeah, it's good." Riorde doesn't entirely understand what transpires with the naming of Iskiveth, but that moment of something other than surface inquiries and passing on of news softens something in her so that she says, "Sorry about that day. Your Turnday." Alluding to her outburst in combination with the repeated invocation of happiness makes Riorde look away, uncomfortable, over Taikrin's shoulder.

That apology seems to make Taikrin equally uncomfortable, though she deals with it by drawing closer to Riorde; that way she can avoid looking at the other woman without it /seeming/ like she's avoiding her. "S'no big deal. Reckon I was drunk enough, anyways. Barely even remember it." Which she very clearly is not, tonight; there's not even a breath of alcohol on her. Amazing! Then, softer, "Reckon you're allowed t'beat on me and make a fuss, anyways. Earned it, yeah?"

Riorde's fingers curled lightly around Taikrin's shoulder tighten briefly in a reflexive reaction to the other woman coming closer. She's quiet in her embarrassment, though as the music enters the closing bars before the next number picks up, Ri says, "Still," a sort of suspended protest that answers nothing directly. Riorde steps back with the end of the dance, arms falling away first and then loosely clasped in front of her, holding herself in a loose hug. "Thanks for the dance," she says after a hesitation, sounding tired, the smile she offers a far cry from cheerful. Ducking her chin, Riorde hurries off towards a cluster of weyrlings she'd spotted during the dance, including one of the two bronzeriders with whom, by the looks of it, she's on good terms.

Taikrin's, "Thank you," is genuine, albiet soft, with special emphasis on the last word. When Riorde steps back and away at the end of the dance, her hands briefly clench before dropping uselessly to her sides. "See you... around." The look she directs after the weyrling, once Riorde heads back to her clutchmates, is wistful-- and, once she realizes exactly who it is that she's going towards, maybe a little heated. But she won't be pursuing her again tonight, even if she might just be keeping a subtle watch. Just in case. You can't trust bronzeriders!