Difference between revisions of "Logs:Big Bronze Balls"

>---< Candidate Quarters, High Reaches Weyr(#286RAJ) >-----------------------<

  Two caverns lead one right into the other from a hallway just off the     
  Common Room. Taking advantage of the high, vaulted ceiling, bunk beds     
  march in five neat rows of five beds each allowing up to fifty people to  
  sleep in one cavern, although one of those caverns is presently largely   
  closed off. Functional and spartan in atmosphere, there's little in the   
  way of decoration here, just the one tapestry depicting a hatching on the 
  wall of the first cavern and eggs on the sands in the second.             
                                                                            
  Each bunk is made up when there are candidates in residence, with standard
  sheeting, gray woollen blankets and somewhat lumpy pillows. A trunk stands
  at both the head and foot of the bunks, providing a little space for the  
  occupants to store their belongings while the wait for the eggs to hatch. 
  The archway between the two spaces is covered over with a hide hanging,   
  easily hooked back when both caverns are in use, but tacked into place    
  when only the first is needed. A proper wooden door closes out noise and  
  drafts from the hallway.

It's so close to the hatching, now, that a stiff apprehension pervades candidate quarters. It's in the hoarse whispers that endure well into the night; it's in the way those white robes have been prepped and situated by the door on hooks and baskets. As the afternoon shifts switch over and candidates are released for dinner or free time, that room (with so many of those cots still empty) begins to trickle fuller, that quiet intensity laying like a heavy blanket. Laine does not respect this silence. In fact: she's audible from well outside the dorms, her staccato-quick voice punctuated by pauses and (here and there) the scrape of furniture. And when she bursts in through that heavy tapestry--pausing to slap it away from her shoulder--she's got a bottle of wine in one hand and indignation in her voice. "Did you-- you--" (she pinpoints whichever candidate is closest) "-- Know we can't drink if we Impress?"

Today has been a rest day for Farideh, and she's made good use of it by spending time outside, until a bit ago when she came back into the candidate dorm, freshly bathed with wet hair that she's still trying to towel dry. She's currently sitting on her bunk, legs over the side, and rubbing the right side of her head with the now-damp towel, wearing an absent-minded expression. It's Laine's intrusion that brings her eyes up from where she'd been staring distractedly, and immediately upon noticing who is being so loud and messy, she frowns. "You didn't?" she counters, regardless of what any candidate closer to the tanner says. "It would be hard, when you're watching a dragon. They're a lot like babies," note the disgust in her voice, "I heard. Even I know it's not a good idea to be drunk when you're caring for a baby."

Keysi is perched in the upper bunk next to Laine, sitting up with legs crossed beneath her. The upper bunk semi-recently became Edyis', but the healer is very often still found up there as her 'crows nest' of a place to sit, watch, observe. And, given their positioning in a farther corner, she watches the coming and goings of more or less all the candidates. She's messing with something between her hands. A little wooden carving, a little dragon figure upon a tripod base. As her fingers play over it, the wings flap slowly, methodically. Entranced by it, but her expression still all the while unchanging. Up down up down. It is also notable on her that she's again dressed in her attire she often wears to go punch a workout bag or two, her handwraps still in place, her lighter tunic and such perhaps still damp. Perhaps still a bit smelly. Laine's comment draws her grey eyes downwards, considering her, studying her. "You shouldn't want to anyway." Is added after Farideh's much more logical statement. "It impairs your judgements."

"I knew," Laine retorts, indignant, with a squinted look for Farideh once she's located the source of that voice. She follows that up, somewhat lamely, with, "I just didn't, like-- know know. Y'know?" Cupping the bottle with both hands, the tanner drinks, still eyeballing Farideh over the neck as she does, though that stink eye transfers over to Keysi--aaaall the way back there--when the healer speaks up. "'m not ready to stop drinking," comes the mild, hooting complaint, Laine nibbling at her lower lip with her teeth as she pushes herself away from the doorway (that tapestry gets one more swat, for good measure). "'n I'm not ready to have a baby." This latter seems to be the more important one, warranting a furrowed brow. Her path takes her, with the deliberately-steady footfalls of those self-conscious of their insobriety, toward Farideh's bunk, where the tanner gently cradles her bottle of red wine on the former laundress' bedspread as though it were a precious gift. "Well, I do want to." Petulant, for Keysi.

"You knew but you didn't know," Farideh parrots, staring up at the ceiling in that this is ridiculous way. "You don't get a choice if you Impress. You should probably finis--" Except she doesn't finish, flicking a glance from Keysi, to Laine, then back to Keysi, with brows raised. "I don't-- what--" There's a bottle of red wine on her bedspread suddenly, and the former laundress doesn't look pleased by the new turn of events. "Why are you putting your wine there? Why not in your bedding? And--" She throws aside her towel, giving her head a tousle, but glowering at Laine all the while. "I don't think you'll ever have a baby, since you like girls. You need a penis to have a baby." Reproductive health and all that; regardless of oops and coincidentals.

"It will be good for you. See straight for a awhile." Keysi persists, her stare set on the tanner as she moves, following her antics through the doorway. "You better get ready." The healer says, lower, with an idle gesture towards the doorway where she is, and where all of those washed white robes sit. "Unless you plan on telling Quinlys you aren't standing for the sake of wanting to stagger around stupidly instead." Farideh's words raise one brow, just slightly, before her expression dissolves back into her ever-controlled state. "It's not hard to come by one of those around here." There's silence that follows that, and she lets her gaze drop back to her small figurine.

Late to the party and the conversation, Faryn is, even though she's been laying in her bunk the whole time, staring at the bottom of the bed above her and not reading the book she's got; that's been laid open, face-down, beside her on the cot. It's the talk of penises, probably. Or it's the alcohol, because the contribution from Faryn isn't about babies, penises, or a combination of them, rather, "Did you get good wine?" She sounds dubious and a little hopeful. "I keep waiting for the walls to start vibrating. I hope you plan on sharing."

Farideh says, "You knew but you didn't know," Farideh parrots, staring up at the ceiling in that this is ridiculous way. "You don't get a choice if you Impress. You should probably finis--" Except she doesn't finish, flicking a glance from Keysi, to Laine, then back to Keysi, with brows raised. "I don't-- what--" There's a bottle of red wine on her bedspread suddenly, and the former laundress doesn't look pleased by the new turn of events. "Why are you putting your wine there? Why not in your bedding? And--" She throws aside her towel, giving her head a tousle, but glowering at Laine all the while. "I don't think you'll ever have a baby, since you like girls. You need a penis to have a baby." Reproductive health and all that; regardless of oops and coincidentals.

"It will be good for you. See straight for a awhile." Keysi persists, her stare set on the tanner as she moves, following her antics through the doorway. "You better get ready." The healer says, lower, with an idle gesture towards the doorway where she is, and where all of those washed white robes sit. "Unless you plan on telling Quinlys you aren't standing for the sake of wanting to stagger around stupidly instead." Farideh's words raise one brow, just slightly, before her expression dissolves back into her ever-controlled state. "It's not hard to come by one of those around here." There's silence that follows that, and she lets her gaze drop back to her small figurine.

Late to the party and the conversation, Faryn is, even though she's been laying in her bunk the whole time, staring at the bottom of the bed above her and not reading the book she's got; that's been laid open, face-down, beside her on the cot. It's the talk of penises, probably. Or it's the alcohol, because the contribution from Faryn isn't about babies, penises, or a combination of them, rather, "Did you get good wine?" She sounds dubious and a little hopeful. "I keep waiting for the walls to start vibrating. I hope you plan on sharing.""

Laine deposits herself on Farideh's cot, whether or not she's welcome, and flaps an empty, dismissive hand at the other girl for her pointing out the minutia. Then that hand falls to pat the wine (still upright, luckily) and nod encouragingly. "It's good wine," loudly enough to answer Faryn's question. But apparently not the only wine--the tanner manages to push herself upright, clumsily, forcefully off the beg (better catch that bottle, Farideh!) and begins to pick her way back to her own cot. Once she gets there, after casting an uncertain, narrow-eyed look up at Keysi on her perch, Laine kneels and pats around under her bed with a flat hand until she produces another bottle with a flourish worthy of a magician. "It's too late now." Sobriety, presumably. Or to refuse standing rights. After considering the bottle for a length of time, the tanner looks up and announces with irritation, "I like pensises, too. I think. Anyway. Faryn. Farideh. Keysi. Drink?"

The other girl is getting the big stare down from Farideh, but when she stands and the bottle careens precariously, she flings herself at it, to catch it, before her bedding becomes red; even a good laundress has her limits. She sighs, forehead in the bedspread and her hands around the bottle, while she catches her breath and presumably, waits for her heart to quit racing. When she lifts her head, and her eyes, it's to glower after Laine. "Don't encourage her," is bit out to Faryn, but even before the tanner offers them all drinks, she taking a long drink from her newly acquired bottle, in disgust. It's after she's swallowed and wiped her mouth, that she makes a sound - a deprecating sound. "You think you like penises? You either know or you don't."

"It will serve you right if you down that bottle and the first dragon cracks its shell." Keysi continues to poke at Laine. While the healer doesn't move from her perch, but does resume watching them, her interest more on Farideh's wine-catching-agility than anything else. The offer is awarded no answer except perhaps a very low-key grunt. Presumably of disapproval, or her twist on what's supposed to be a polite decline. "Unless she just hasn't enough experience." Her even voice offers in Farideh's direction, "Everything requires practice, aye?"

Laine's offer is enough. Faryn tucks her book away and makes her way closer to the others, settling down cross-legged on a bunk that was never filled and waiting for the alcohol to come her way. "Penises themselves aren't great. They look like sand worms. Like they might pop out of Igen sand. And eat people. Or something. It's about how they're used." Just in case Keysi's right, and Laine just doesn't have enough practice. "Sex is sex." Faryn hesitates a moment at Keysi's prophesy, eying the walls and waiting for them to vibrate. When they don't immediately, she throws her caution to the wind. "Can I have that? Please?" Her gesture is toward Farideh, flicking her fingers, indicating the wine bottle. Please, she's still sober.

Laine flops, belly-first, forward on to her bed while still contemplating that pesky cork. But she offers back over one shoulder, presumably to Keysi although it's more to the empty cot below her, "Then if I Impress, it'll be to a dragon who accepts me. Embarr-- embraces my vices." The tanner parts her lips and brings the bottle neck to her mouth, and for a moment it looks as though she's about to gnaw at it, but instead she sighs in exasperation and rolls over onto her back. "Does anyone," is drawled in a bored, peevish tone, "Have a corkscrew." Faryn's words earn her an approving grunt and a nod; Laine's subsequent reply is measured and punctuated with stiff, sloshy shakes of that second bottle that might be mistaken as her offering it to Faryn, "I like wine and beer and whiskey. I don't have to like just penises or just vaginas. Plus everyone likes boobs."

Evening in the candidate dorms means drunken antics, or tonight at least. There are numerous candidates around, but it's Laine who is obviously drunk. Keysi is at the top of her set of bunkbeds, Faryn is over there reading a book, and Farideh's just saved the first bottle of red wine from making a murder scene of her bedding. "Everything requires practice, but if you've even a penis before, you should know whether you want to, you know--" Her eyes get wide and she makes a grabbing motion. "Are you that disinterested in sex?" is the comment to Faryn, as she stands and step-leans over to the herder, offering the offending bottle.

"If your brain is so fuzzy that you cannot talk straight, how do you expect to talk to a baby dragon? It will take back its Impression the moment it looks into that head of yours." Keysi returns. Not that that's possible or anything. The stern look about her has continued to ease, giving way just enough to show a flicker of amusement. "Use your teeth if you want it so bad." Not for sex, in theory, but in response to the lack of a cork screw. Faryn, on the latter topic, is given her attention, and there's a flicker of something in her eyes, "You should see one that's infected." She may not have much experience in the intended sense, but she can turn stomachs soon enough.

H'vier has no idea what he's walking into and that's probably for the best. He's distracted, not paying that much attention to the actual conversation or what the girls are doing as he walks through the barracks, looking for something or someone, until he hears the word sex. It's like a conditioned response. The bronzerider stops and turns toward it, taking in details and probably coming to inappropriate, though maybe not inaccurate, conclusions. "What's going on here?" his inner responsible adult forces him to ask.

Faryn is, at the very least, disinterested in answering that question, though the look she gives Farideh is so filled with apathy that maybe she is. She takes the wine bottle when it's offered, eyeballs the top, and sets the bottle beside her to start untying her boots. Presently, she asserts, "I think I just have other priorities, than getting a man between my legs. And yes, everyone likes boobs." Off comes the boot, and the wine bottle is stuck into it, bottom first. She stands, walking lop-sided the few steps to the wall, and gives Keysi a disgusted look. "No, I really shouldn't see that. Thanks." After that she's banging, driving the heel of the boot into the wall several times until the cork is loose enough to get out. A triumphant smile immediately disappears from her face at the voice behind her, though. Faryn turns, levels a look at H'vier, and then a more alarmed one to her friends. "Calming our nerves?"

They can't take back Impression," Laine protests in a mumble, but it's with a mistrust that as her sitting up on her bed and folding her feet under her butt and looking a little more alert. But there's an overt gag for Keysi's offer, and Laine whirls so she can wag a finger at the healer. "No. Bad Keysi." The tanner is just in the process of unfolding herself and crawling off the bed (closer to Faryn, so she can watch that ingenious decorking) when she hears that Stern, Responsible Grown-Up voice. She sweeps a hand through her disheveled hair as though it'll help her look less intoxicated (it won't) and steadies herself on the bedframe. "What're you doing in here?" Yep, that's a totally reasonable response.

The super mature side of Farideh takes over when she sticks her tongue out at Faryn's turned-and-decorking back. She makes a couple more displeased faces, even scrunching her nose for Keysi's entry of infected penises, and mumbles, but the untimely entrance of the bronzerider has her head turning sharply in his direction. "H'vier," she greets sarcastically, "what are you--" except Laine has beat her to the punch, so she crosses her arms and glares at him instead; he's in their sanctuary, now.

Keysi gives little more than a slight movement of one shoulder that might be a shrug at Faryn first, and then the hint of a smirk at the edge of her lips at Laine's responses. "Your loss." Not much of a loss, really... At all. But she lets that sit, apparently content with the array of reactions her comment achieved, fingers returning to her idle fiddling with the tiny figurine in her hands. That is, until her fiddling pauses abruptly at the entrance of H'vier. The ease of her expression dissolves, but the hint of amusement surely doesn't. The only change would be the grey eyed stare set to studying the bronzerider from her perch above.

Sorry, girls. H'vier just isn't very intimidated by defensiveness and glaring. Or girls in general. Call it a character flaw. "Are you drinking?" He manages not to sound incredulous so much as simply wanting to clarify what's happening right now. "Are you drunk?" This questions is asked of all of them, but he's looking at Laine. "Someone said sex." Now he glances at Farideh.

It can be determined from Faryn's expression that neither Farideh nor Laine's contributions have helped. Not that her matter-of-fact, "Well, you can rest assured we're not having sex," is any better, since apparently snark is contagious. For the other two queries, though? She has no comment, and is slowly sliding that wine bottle behind her back, looking at him calmly.

Laine presses her lips together into a thin line, then sniffs. When she speaks, it's not quite challenging--but reckless, certainly, as she props herself stiffly against the supporting brace of the bunk. "I'm saving up for in case I Impress." And then she laughs, outright, giving that short crop of thick hair another rough tousle: "We're all girls. Girls can't have sex with each other." She flicks her wrist in a deliberate, I don't know what you're talking about gesture.

Now that H'vier has all of their attention and is inserting himself into their conversation instead of leaving, Farideh has a dramatic, put upon sigh. "We might be. What is it to you? You get drunk all the time. And break things," she says unkindly, not moving those tightened arms across her chest. His second question earns an unpleasant laugh and a toss of her head, but even if he's looking at her, she is staring wide-eyed at Laine. "Wha-- what? Girls can have sex with each other. How do you think--" She clamps her mouth closed and looks away, her cheeks coloring spectacularly.

Keysi's gaze abruptly shifts to Laine, and there's a coughing sound that might be a suppressed laugh. Maybe. More so it sounds like an interruptive throat-clearing. "Laine-" She starts, but isn't committed to finishing the correction she intends, especially as Farideh continues on with it. Almost. "No." a beat "sir." Is given in regards to being drunk, in honesty of herself, though the sir part is a touch strained and very much secondthought. To the rest, she's particularly silent for.

"Rest assured?" No, H'vier doesn't seem very rested assured. He seems more disappointed. He seems even more disappointed when Laine spreads this horrible, horrible misinformation. Appalled, even. So much so that Farideh gets it out before he can form words again. "Girls definitely have sex with each other. I've been there when they've done it. It's hot as fuck." And he's a classy gentleman. He still manages to add to Farideh, however, "I don't have to be ready to get my ass on the Sands to Impress a starving sack of claws and teeth. You know they could hatch any day now, right? If you get your face all fucked up, I definitely won't have sex with you again."

Always a little aloof, Rafevan has been more so since the night he joined the other candidates in the barracks. He does his chores, he keeps his mouth shut about their menialness, and contains his amusement to a snort and lifted brows at Farideh's expense. Nothing to see here.

Faryn chokes, too, laughing at Laine before she can stop herself. That faux-casual is what gets her, more than anything; she settles down on the cot, not bothering to conceal the opened wine anymore, even if her drink from it is as surreptitious as it can be, given that it's a whole damned bottle. At the very least, she doesn't spit it out in her surprise at H'vier's words. All of them. Faryn's eyes bulge a bit, her hand going to her mouth to help keep the wine in place, and she's looking between Farideh and H'vier in turn, waiting.

Ugh. Laine's dramatic eyeroll breaks any pretense of ignorance that she might've otherwise been able to maintain. "Nevermind. Whatever. I was being coy." Her hand moves in the beginnings of a very crude gesture, but the tanner just barely manages to belay that, replacing it instead with: "I know girls can have sex. I've fu--" Nope. Nevermind. Whatever Laine's done, or not, gets clamped up behind tight lips. H'vier gets a long, considering look as Laine edges closer to Faryn, and not-so-subtly reaches for that bottle of wine. She might've been successful in her stealth, were it not for a strangled "again?!" that's half-cough, half-crow of laughter.

The once-laundress might have been able to give an answer for Laine's newly confirmed knowledge, but the whole candidate dorm is being made aware of her liaisons with H'vier. There is a short moment where she just stares at him and it looks like she might not react poorly, but then she's turning red and her mouth compresses, her eyes narrowing. If looks could kill-- he'd be dead, and she'd still be trying to kill him again. "It was a mistake the first time," is all she manages, shooting Faryn and Laine both glares for their amusement. She pulls in her legs, off the floor, and flop-turns on her bunk, to where her back is to H'vier, and that leaves Rafevan to receive the rest of her glare. "What?" she growls at the smith.

Keysi allows a shake of her head in place of an outright groan at H'vier's description. And as he continues to offer further detail, the healer places a hand on the railing of the upper cot and slips herself down with well-coordinated, sober agility and minimal sound as her bootless feet hit the ground below. "You make it sound so appealing." Is her level response to the Impression description, more likely, not having sex with Farideh. But she does add in regards to the subject "Maybe that is her intent." Some sort of defense that would be, though not really the most helpful of comments. She doesn't let any potential surprise break her controlled expression. Her arms fold and her balance sways in such a way she appears to be between deciding to stay or slip out behind them all.

Fortunately, the smith is used to high temperatures, because Farideh's glare doesn't seem to phase him too much. "Hm?" he answers her, with a small bland smile, though his eyes still betray the amusement. "I'm sorry. Don't let me interrupt your poor decision-making."

"I don't care if you drink," H'vier points out since they all kind of suck at doing it with subtlety. Or at least enough of them for him to notice. "Now, now. Don't give her a hard time. I wanted it pretty bad both times. And look at her. She's gorgeous." He eyes Laine for just a moment like she might agree before glancing at the laundress' back. "I couldn't help myself." This is probably H'vier trying to make it up to Farideh for being a dick in front of her friends. While sort of being more of one at the same time. "You're all pretty easy on the eyes, though, aren't you. Anyone needs company after the hatching, I'm sure you'll be able to find me at the feast."

He doesn't care? Well, in that case, Faryn can take another drink before surrendering the bottle to Laine, grudgingly. She wouldn't trust the tanner to open the other bottle with out a corkscrew in her current condition, anyways. Her brow furrows as Farideh withdraws from the conversation - and she looks a bit guilty, even - and H'vier, gentleman, is still talking. "If we're lucky," Faryn deigns, "we'll all Impress. I hear sex is off limits, too. That would probably be for the best."

"Ew." Laine clutches the bottle by the neck and takes a swig, lip curled when she lowers the bottle to clunk against the floor. "Sure, she's, like, super hot. But you're super old. You should be able to help yourself." The tanner pulls a face at H'vier--more mocking than offended, in any case--before she drinks again. "Did you come in here to hit on the candidates?" Laine wipes the back of her hand across her mouth and repeats: "Ew."

"I'm not making poor decisions now," Farideh groans, her still-red face falling into her hands; this is the worst day ever. She doesn't even respond to people giving her compliments, but stays with her head-in-hands. "It was at least a turn ago, probably longer than that. It was a horrible idea and I haven't done it after that second time and--" She might as well stop while she's ahead, but she lifts her head long enough to spit, loudly, back at H'vier, "You haven't left yet?"

Perhaps it's because he's supposed to be an entity of some sort of authority, or because he's the rider of the bronze on the sands that Keysi decides she can't strike him. But she comes close as she moves past him to linger nearer the other girls as they talk, giving Farideh's comments that digs her hole deeper only a brief glance. The healer ghosts behind and then beside one of the other bunks, notable tension egged on. Following Laine's drunken question, she echoes it with her own- "Is this a tradition to come here with that offer right before a Hatching to clean up those left Standing? Take advantage of their woes?" Her words are clipped and contentious, that level-headedness still present, but unlikely for long.

"There are more of you than their are eggs, darling, even if there should be more of you. Someone'll be left over." That's to Faryn. Then to Laine, H'vier says, "No. But alcohol makes you an easy target. So you might want to keep an eye on that." He completely ignores Farideh to focus on Keysi, "It worked pretty well last time. Never hurts to put yourself out there, does it? And I assure you I take good care of my girls." Girls is maybe not the word a man his age should be using. "I bet you're a lot of fun, too. It's usually the uptight ones who are crazy in the sheets."

Faryn's eyeroll is annoyed. "Because that hadn't crossed my mind," she says, dry. "Can't you just go? I think I mentioned we were trying to calm our nerves, and you're stressing us the fuck out." As if to demonstrate, she gestures back towards Farideh. But he doesn't go - he just keeps talking, and by the time he makes it to Keysi, Faryn's hands have balled into fists and she's biting her lower lip, looking angry. "You - " she starts, flustered, angry, but she can't find the right words for exactly what he.

Laine's lip curls. Apparently, she neither appreciates H'vier's so-called advice, nor being labelled a target, and when she drinks again, deeply, it's with a sullen glare over the bottle's curve. "Can handle myself," she mutters, thrusting the bottle back at Faryn. "You're disgusting," she decides, with an up-and-down sweep of her grey eyes along the bronzerider's form. "Get out." Flatly.

Since H'vier isn't going to see himself out, and everyone's just getting that much more annoyed, there's a growl from Farideh before she puts her feet on the ground. She spares the smith one more glare, before she's stomping towards the bronzerider in all her embarrassed-but-pissy teenaged glory; blazing. "Get the fuck out, now," she demands, pointing a finger at the doorway, like all five foot and five inches of skinny girl is intimidating to a man of H'vier's size. "You're pissing everyone off and no one wants you here. I'm sure there's a not choosy female or two out there who would love you to pop the buttons on her blouse. Go."

Fingers curl into fists, at first done in secret, then obvious as they hover at her sides. A predator curling, waiting. Watching for the right moment. Keysi takes a step towards him, the once-neutral grey tone of her eyes quickly lit with an almost seething anger. "You have all the right words, don't you." Is hissed in a curled tone. The switch had already been turned when he spoke to them that way, but he wanted it with his last words. With obviously trained speed, the previous precautions are forgotten, and the remaining short distance is closed with a jab cross combination to his mug, to be followed by a front elbow likely to his collar bone given his huge size if the rapid-fire combination isn't cut off before then.

Edyis always picks the oddest moments to show up in the Barracks. She wanders in from the caverns, bag slung over her shoulder and dark eyes widen, as she watches Keysi go for the blow. "KEYS!" Oh dear.

Telling him to leave probably doesn't really make H'vier want to leave. He seems amused more than anything but the unanimous vote to kick him out of the barracks. It might make the fact that he doesn't see Keysi coming for his face all that much sweeter for the girls watching. It's unexpected and triggers rage more than fast reflexes, which he is, indeed, in fair possession of. "What the fuck, you stupid cunt!" All the right words. There's a surge toward the girl, but he stops short of trying anything, face red with anger, and then he's spinning around to stalk out of the barracks.

"Sure," Faryn grumbles for Laine, "but maybe now isn't the time." She's taking the bottle from her though, just so it's not dropped, and her grip on it is loose around the neck, hefting it's weight absently. It would probably get a good hit in, just on, if she needed; she doesn't. Swift and instantaneous, Faryn is on her feet when she sees Keysi's weight shift into not one strike, but three. Her every sense is tuned into what might be a fight, and she's wired taut as he turns to stalk out. She probably doesn't even realize she's holding her breath until she exhales it, in a small puff of nervous laughter when he's gone. "Keysi," she says, very deliberately, "I think you should probably have a drink. Just one." Her grip on the bottle has changed to offer it to the healer.

That lunge of H'vier's toward Keysi triggers some instinctive response in Laine, who lurches to her feet and surges toward the bronzerider, only a beat behind Faryn. Granted, she's not fully in possession of her coordination, so, at best, she succeeds in stumbling over her own feet and wheeling around for balance, flinging an arm out to catch herself on the nearest bunk, narrowly missing Farideh as she does. But H'vier's leaving anyway, so, hah! Laine wins! Er, they all win! Thrusting a loosely closed fist a few times in an incredibly vulgar gesture at his back, Laine sinks back down onto her cot. "Asshole," she levels, just got good measure. "Keys. Drink."

Farideh looks impressed by Keysi's heroics, and gapes at the other candidate open-mouthed; that is until H'vier leaves and she's left to look that much more impressed by the healer's gusto. "I've never seen that, before," she notes quietly, and misses Laine's near-hit. Then, with a sigh, she wheels around and moves back to her bunk, where she promptly sits and pulls the covers over her head. In the end, now everyone knows, and that's embarrassing.

Keysi bounces back on balanced toes, her guard already at her face as he surges towards her. Waiting, expecting. She has no words in reply for his outburst as she recollects and recoils, only to find him turning away in rage. Only when more distance is claimed does she let her guard ease and, eventually, fall. Edyis' call hadn't been heard in the moment, and the 'healer' is still fixated on H'vier's back as he heads towards the exit. Once she's convinced that he isn't going to come swinging back, she allows herself to refocus on the girls around her. The fire lingers, "I still shouldn't." And there's a grin, a real but small one, that follows both offers from Faryn and Laine. "Nor should you." As if nothing just happened.

Edyis blinks owlishly watching and neatly stepping aside to avoid the bronzerider. Keysi gets a look of awe, the former scribe just staring at the brunette. "Did... that just happen?" The scribes lips are slowly curling into a wry grin. After a moment, she assesses the bottles and Laine's present state of intoxication. Farideh's trying to smother herself with a pillow; Faryn's bottle passing. "Clearly the fun things happen when I leave the room. Last night of freedom before facing the sands..." She drawls to Keysi, "Live a little while you have the chance."

"No, damn it, you definitely should," Faryn insists, "because that was brilliant and a swallow won't kill you, and you should never turn down a drink from friends, because it's rude." She steps forward to Keysi in order to thrust the bottle into her hand. Hopefully she'll take it, because the herder lets it go, expecting that she will. It's all the better to keep the alcohol out of Laine's hands, and also to turn her attention to Farideh. She approaches that particular quarter cautiously, examining the lump she's become beneath the blankets. She crouches beside her, pokes at her gently. "Will you come back out? Please? We're sorry. And Keysi just hit a bronzerider. And soon we might be dragonriders."

From her position on the cot, resting her forehead gently on the bunk's frame, eyes half-closed, Laine still manages to point at Faryn and grunt her agreement. "-- rude," she repeats, and, "-- friends," emphatically, the only word audible in the mumbled, jumbled mess of whatever-the-hell-else she just said. And then, as though her moment of quietude allowed her to fully process what just happened, the tanner's grey eyes spring open and she sits straight upright. "Keys! That was bad. Ass. Never said you were such a badass. That's pretty hot." Then that gaze swings around to the lump-that-is-Farideh, and Faryn beside her. "Hopefully we'll be bronzeriders. If he's not off to get us all pulled from the sands. Fuck. That was awesome."

The lump under the covers speaks! It's muffled, but there's ample movement. "I wouldn't worry about H'vier. A lot of people hate him, and he's always creating some kind of mess." Farideh sighs and peeks her head out from under the bedding, wearing it like a veil over her head. "He always does that. You know, if you're all going to Impress--" She glances around the room at the other candidates. "He is a wingleader, and you might get tapped into his wing, for better or for worse." Debbie Downer over here.

"Are you going to be alright?" The question is pointedly in Farideh's direction as she smothers herself beneath the covers of her bed. The laundress' reality check is given something of a nod, but no other words. Keysi doesn't appear excited about her apparent accomplishment as the others, though she does turn to look at everyone in turn. There isn't elation beyond the wired energy that still crackles in her senses. The cap on her expressiveness almost completely returns at Edyis' and Faryn's persistence, and she shakes her head with more vehemence this time. "I cannot." A vice she will not touch, even if she's forced to catch the bottle itself via Faryn. The thing is held something at half-arm's length away from her as if poison. A sidelong glance is given to Ed, as if seeking 'help' with a gesture for her to have the bottle next. "I believe I took enough of a chance with that one without adding drunkeness ontop of it." Is added after a beat, as if to make the refusal less stern. Less 'rude'. To Laine, "I don't quite think of it that way." Keys replies, lighter, "But.. thank you?" Meek, almost. She's never had an audience. There's no regret of her actions. Not at all.

Edyis grins. "You should see her in the workout room Laine, killer elbow strikes and a roundhouse that will have you on your ass." Snatching up the bottle. "Fuck I hope not." She says of Iceberg and tapping. Edyis takes a ginger sip of the bottle before passing it back to whoever claims it. "Why is Farideh burried in her cot?"

"Because she made a mistake we're not going to rehash again," Faryn supplies mysteriously to Edyis, standing. "I doubt he'll tell K'del he almost got laid out by a girl, though." She's musing that as she stands up, glancing at the bottle of wine that Keysi still declines with a frown. "Will of steel, you," of Keysi, even as Faryn's shoulders slump a bit, the tension draining out. "He's probably right, you know," she says grudgingly. "It's not safe to drink so close to the hatching. If they started right now..." A look at Laine says it all. She shrugs, apologetic. "Maybe we should try and rest."

"Ha," Laine chuckles. "Even if he tells. Get laughed out of the Weyr. Beat up by girls." (Laine's taking some credit, definitely, for being Really Brave and Scary.) Even as she's eyeballing that newly-opened bottle of wine, the tanner is creeping back into her bed, kicking her boots off and wriggling under her blankets still fully clothed. As she pulls the blanket all the way up to her chin, she asks in a small voice, "Will someone get me a glass of water?"

No one has to tell Farideh twice to get some rest. She's already halfway there, and swiftly recovers her head with the bedspread, spreading out so it's no longer lump but a body-looking shape underneath. "Goodnight," is all she mumbles, before she, presumably, tries to get herself to dreamland.

Keysi offers another shake of her head at Faryn, perhaps amused this time though the adrenaline is fading. And then, to Laine, "Aye." There's a moment she vanishes behind the bunks not far where a jug sits, and it's delivered via bedside not long thereafter. "But I've things to do. Maybe perhaps rest after." Is said, maybe cryptically, but towards Edyis she slightly tilts her head towards the doorway and idly tightens the wraps on her hands. A clear indication of where she means to go now as she moves to exit the barracks.

Edyis puffs a breath at a stray strand of hair over her face. Eyeing those wraps with grim determination. "Night." She says to anyone listening or still awake as she falls into step with the healer.