Logs:Elaruth and Bijedth's fourth clutch - Post Hatching Feast
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| RL Date: 1 March, 2014 |
| Who: Ali, B'rant, E'dre, E'lai, Elise, Lilah, N'muir, Zhivka |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Elaruth and Bijedth's fourth clutch hatches - and of course there's a celebration afterwards! |
| Where: Living Caverns, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 2, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: E'ten/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, Ebeny/Mentions |
| After a polite but very firm 'nay' for his offer of help to E'ten -- B'rant having barely poked his head into the Barracks -- the young bronzer found himself nearly hand-wringing in the Bowl, subconsciously echoing Rhenth's deep concern for the injured dragonets. Finally leaving his lifemate to stand watch just outside the entrance to the Weyrling area, the tall man paces inside after calming both of them down some, more than ready to warm up and feed himself after a too eventful Hatching. After tending to Elaruth, Hattie has disappeared into the crowd at the hatching feast to celebrate the mostly successful hatching of her lifemate's clutch. With the weyrlings attended to by the weyrlingmaster's staff and the dragonhealers, N'muir has managed to change leathers before waltzing into the Living Cavern with a rather startled and disheveled look about him. He runs his fingers through his hair, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. Or less familiar faces. "I need a drink..." B'rant then comes into view. "And I thought the Interval would be boring." It's a joke, says the small, almost nervous smile. E'dre has arrived. Without her usual grey and still clad in her white robe, there is no way that Lilah can blend into the cavern around her where she slips in, especially given the tiny gold's choice on the sands and the fact that she wears her hair down in a cascade of curls. Eliyaveith has finally tampered down for a long nap to recover the energy used to shed her shell, the weyrlingmasters assurances given that she is allowed to attend the feast as the dragonet sleeps. She heads first for the drinks, reaching for water to rehydrate herself and lingering nearby the table that hosts them. The tiny blonde isn't exactly in a celebratory mood but Zhivka is here. In the most literal sense of the word, anyway. The usually cheerful young woman is sitting by herself, picking absently at a plate of finger foods and not really eating any of it, with her legs drawn up and tucked against her chest. She's changed out of her robe and sandals for something more standard, still quite out of place next to the fineries of some of the guests. Ali and K'zin can be seen, arm in arm, doing the dutiful rounds of disappointed parents, and making promises to see them when their children stand for their own clutch. This takes a while- and at least one or two wine glasses worth of toasting and assurances that the two dragons will be okay. While K'zin excuses himself to go and talk greet some of his fellow High Reaches riders, Ali instead heads to top up her glass - not with wine, but water, which might make for some awkward explaining to the servers. Like many who attend Hatchings and the feasts that follow, Fort's Weyrsecond is dressed in his finery. He's got an outfit that has hues to match his brown, mahogany shirt offset by the blackness of his pants and boots. His first stop is to collect a glass of wine, eying the food that's laid out and deciding on what might be worth filling up a plate on later. He's hailed by some Holders and Crafters, detoured from the food as he chats with their children's successes on the Sands. "Yes, well, you'll see what fine riders they will be," he assures them and makes a break as soon as he can to free himself from further chats. That wine? He refills it as soon as he can before he looks for some of his wingmates. He notes Ali and K'zin with a glance and then he's walking towards a table. "Me too..." the younger man quips a little tensely back to N'muir, this festive time showing him quite willing to leave off the usual 'Weyrleader' prefix. "Want it mixed or straight?" is inquired of the other bronzer, even as B'rant makes for the booze table. Apparently he's ignoring the 'lighter' wines and beers in favor of some 'punch' to his alcohol. "Rhenth's only tied into a half-a-knot, now..." his baritone partially jokes, a small sigh then spilling from his lips, a small headshake accompanying it. "I wish he wasn't so...paternal. Shells, might as well even go 'ma'ternal, sometimes." There's an eyeroll for the predilictions of his lifemate, even as gray eyes skip around to take note of the various folk who show up. A quiet smile and a bob of head is given to Lilah then Zhivka, while Ali and K'zin gain the same as his gaze moves along. Still, it lingers on K'zin some, a little furtive, before moving on to E'dre with a slightly renewed smile. "Weyrwoman," Lilah greets Ali, the politeness enforced in days of Candidacy (and that will have to continue into weyrlinghood) spilling over now. But then, she seems too starstruck to be anything else, really, as she still struggles with the emotions of Impression and the new mind that has joined hers. Her own glass of water is lifted to her lips, giving her an excuse, at least briefly, to cast a glance around the room. "Wine, if that's an option," N'muir requests of B'rant, his gaze roaming around. "It's not a bad trait for a bronze. You never know, maybe it'll turn out to be benefit you. Maybe he'll catch a gold and have to sire a clutch. It's a good trait for someone wanting to be a part of the Weyrlingmaster's staff, I imagine." His gaze wanders and eventually finds Zhivka and pauses, lingering for a moment. "Sorry, you'll have to excuse me, B'rant. But do you mind if I steal that wine first?" "Weyrling," Ali replies to Lilah in turn, but only once she's secured her water. Given it's in a wine glass, a cursory glance might allow for it to be mistaken for wine. "Are your parents here? I didn't see them when I was doing the rounds." She's not looking for them right now; her gaze is flickering over the room, taking stock of where familiar, particular faces - such as the Weyrleaders - are, before finally shifting towards Lilah with somewhat of an understanding smile. "Eat something," she advises, "Or you'll be hungry later, and it feels like a long walk over here in the midst of the night. Maybe- get something for your fellow candidates while you're there," she bobs her head in Zhivka's direction. "I need to - do a bit more mingling, I'm afraid. We'll talk later, though," she promises, moving off to intercept Fort's Lord. E'dre hails B'rant as the bronzerider heads his way, answering smile for smile as he hefts his glass up in an air-toast before he takes a sip. "Enjoying yourself?" he queries, steering their direction towards a table that has been set up with finger-foods and.. why, how surprising, more alcohol. "Plenty of excuses to overindulge," he continues, finishing his glass and pouring himself another since it's so /close/ and easy to reach! "We should also make sure N'muir's kept filled," he adds and glances around for N'muir. The newly made weyrlings roaming around are given some consideration from the brownrider, but he won't talk to them directly unless they initiate it. "Wine it is..." B'rant smirks just a little at N'muir, pouring the other man a full glass of it, though he leaves just enough room for 'swirling' its bouquet into being. He takes in the Weyrleader's next words with a slightly amused expression, a bob of head offered to him -- as well as that requested glass -- B'rant then moving on to the harder liquors to pour himself a mixed drink with rum. "I know he'd adore being a sire... but he can't be a weyrlingmaster without me." Shrug. "It's must not my calling, really." A look out towards the Bowl beyond has him thinking, then muttering, "Maybe dragonhealer... Since she's staring at that plate of hers, Zhivka doesn't really notice the people that have arrived and started mingling around her. One might wonder why she's here at all, given her rather party-downer demeanor, but she glances over toward this entrance or that on occasion like she might be waiting for someone to show up or something to happen. "Maybe dragonhealer..." A quick nod to the man's self-dismissal leads to the drink-laden younger man fetching himself quite a bit of food, and then -- rather like Ali -- making the rounds of various folks for some hours. Be certain that he'll partner whoever wants to dance in such, and chat it up...before going back out to attend Rhenth again. "No." That is all that Lilah answers on the topic of her parents, even the one word strained for all that she would normally mask it better. But she nods at Ali's advice, and that promise of further talk, before moving further down the table to the food at her suggestion. She doesn't grab a plate for Zhivka, assuming the woman doesn't want any by the way she already picks, but she does retreat to the Candidate's table as soon as she has her own. "I should have brought you a drink," is what she greets of Zhivka instead. Was E'dre talking to B'rant? Nope. That'd be B'ytal next to him. He hides that mistake well by excusing himself before the other bronzerider notices he'd been calling him the wrong name for the last five minutes of conversation. Or, at least, if B'ytal /did/ notice he wasn't shaming E'dre with telling him. Swirling is not something N'muir does with wine cups. He takes the cup from the younger bronzerider and lifts it in a brief toast to B'rant before tipping it back and gulping down a large portion of it. So much for manners. When the cup comes down again, N'muir lifts his hand to wipe it and turns towards Zhivka. Spotting Lilah, he turns immediately on his heel and heads for the safety of someone familiar - E'dre. "There you are." As if he'd been searching for him this whole time. He gives his Weyrsecond a once over. "You look..." Pause. "Like a Weyrsecond." Which leads N'muir to look down. He didn't bother to pull out /new/ leathers. Just clean ones. Ones he's worn probably too many times. Zhivka glances over when there are words being direction at her, particularly words from Lilah. She frowns and it's a weird expression on her face but then she makes herself smile instead, which might be even weirder. "I'll probably get to that. I don't usually drink, but..." Sometimes it's just the right time. "Congratulations." "I didn't think--I half-expected to be left on the Sands, again," Lilah admits in a soft murmur, and despite what she is saying, her words are suffused by a warmth she can't quite keep from them, with the presence of a sleeping, loving dragon curled into her mind. It doesn't stop a slight frown from pulling at her lips as she catches sight of N'muir, or perhaps intuits that he's retreating from /her/. "I think the Weyrleader would offer you a drink." She tips a nod towards him in indication for Zhivka. "Really, N'muir, you should just let me dress you for these events," E'dre answers N'muir as he assesses the clean leathers. "There are more options than.. you realize.. leather," he reminds his Weyrleader as he takes a drink of wine. And just to make sure N'muir enjoys himself properly, the brownrider lifts the wineskin nearby and jerks his chin towards N'muir's still-full glass. "What, are you babying that? No Holders are near. Get your proper fill." He eyes N'muir's shirt again, "And next Hatching. I'm making you and forcing you into an outfit." If he notices the two girls nearby, eying the bounty of booze that he's found, E'dre will step just so to block their view of the wineskins on that table behind him. The look that Zhivka gives Lilah isn't mean or anything, not by any stretch. Sad, maybe. But it does suggest she might not be quite the proper audience for the new weyrling's musings on impression. She still tries to smile, anyway, and glances over to the Weyrleader when Lilah points him out. "He probably wanted to talk to you. But thanks. You should go enjoy the feast." Lilah shakes her head simply, answering, "I doubt it, even though /I/ didn't do anything wrong." She doesn't bother to modulate her voice, either, for all that with the conversation and the length of the Cavern, he isn't likely to hear anyways. But, she nods, pushing to her feet and taking her plate with her to leave Zhivka alone. N'muir lifts his cup to his lips and pauses, staring down again at his get-up. "More options than leather?!" It's uttered with shock and horror - and very clearly in mocking jest of himself. Or E'dre. Or both. Or maybe he's genuinely shocked and horrified. "The only thing stopping me from telling you to go have a field day in my wardrobe is that I'm petrified you'll give all my comfortable leathers away and I'll be forced to wear something terrible. But have it your way - make me something and I'll wear it. Just no dresses." He takes a gulp of his wine when guilted into it, chugging down half and holding it out to E'dre for more, a small smirk coming to his lips. "Why, E'dre... Are you trying to get me drunk?" Once Lilah abandons Zhivka, the Weyrleader's gaze wanders back her way. "Would I be wrong to?" E'dre asks as he somehow seems to be refilling his glass - again. Well! At least one of them will be drunk by night's end. "Ebeny's got a lot of work ahead of her and all. The girls are settled in the nursery." So - time for manly pursuits! He glances back to N'muir with a frown, "Are you implying I'd dress you inappropriately? Am I not dressed in finery that /isn't/ a dress?" He smoothes his hand down his shirt and then looks towards Zhivka and then on to where Lilah has wandered too. "At least with the rest of the eggs on the sands, and those that didn't Impress, there's less to go and gather in a Search?" he muses, more to himself than N'muir. Zhivka doesn't say anything as Lilah goes but once the weyrling is turned away, she does look up and watch her walk off for a few moments. Then her eyes are back on the plate of food she's not eating and she reaches out with one short leg to try hooking her foot on the chair that was left out. That looks way too inviting. It needs to be fixed and pulled back in close to the table. N'muir raises his brows and lifts the cup to his lips as if being drunk is exactly what he intends to do. As soon as possible. "Not at all! And-" He holds his hand out - the one not already holding a cup of wine. "Just pass me a 'skin, would you? I should go wander around. You should too. We'll shake a few hands and meet back up in, say, half a wine-skin?" And since he's already a cup in, well. As for clothes, he considers E'dre again and raises his brow, smirking tugging again at his lips. "It /isn't/ a dress but it /is/ awfully pretty." And if E'dre relinquishes a wineskin, he'll begin to head for Zhivka, his path cutting clear across the room. E'dre doesn't hide his grumble as he looks down at his shirt, "There isn't anything wrong with it being /pretty/," is the sour statement made once N'muir is out of earshot. He's got his wineskin, because it looks very proper for a Weyrsecond to have a 'skin in one hand and a glass in another, and wanders, looking for someone to bother. He squints. Is that Elise he sees over there? He heads in that direction. But with his recent track record of mistaking people, he could be heading for an old auntie. Looking very much like her lineage would demand, Elise arrives. She's just here, suddenly, wearing a fine, fashion-conscious dress and with her hair put up. It's hard to tell she just came from the hatching at all, really, or that she may have had a cry and been a little sick by herself, unless someone looks /very/ closely and can see that the flush to her cheeks isn't entirely cosmetic. With perfect posture in those heels, she carries herself slowly in one direction, then catches sight of E'dre heading in hers and artfully tries to find a place to be where she might not have to oh there he is. "Hello," she greets, when he's close enough, her eyes wandering for a moment. Is that--... no, it isn't. "Have you seen any of Ruatha?" she asks next in a near-whisper. Zhivka is still mostly oblivious to the world at large but since Lilah pointed him out, the little blonde has glanced in N'muir's direction a couple of times since the weyrling left. Especially since he didn't go chase her down. Which means she was wrong so maybe the other girl was right. Which leaves Zhivka frowning at the Weyrleader as he approaches. Such a nice greeting. As N'muir approaches, Zhivka's frown that greets him lends him to slow his pace but not divert away from it. It also causes him to pause before her and uncork his wineskin, pouring it slowly into his half-empty cup. "So, have you made your decision?" he asks, and lifts his filled cup to his lips. Elise? Trying to run from /him/? Impossible! Especially since he's managed to grab her a clean glass and supplied her with some wine from that rather dubious wineskin. The Weyrsecond is in great spirits! "Nope. I haven't. Here, come hide with me. We'll be in heated conversation in a corner and even /if/ they surface you obviously can't offend me by going to talk to them." He may notice the fact that she's been crying, or assume that she might've, because he's got his charm in full swing. At first Elise's shoulders square, her eyes finding that clean glass; no doubt she has some kind of a polite refusal handy. But then they slump and she accepts it with what might be a grateful look, which also suggests she's willing to go and do just that. "I'm not hiding," though, she's careful to point out. "But okay." Because she's not hiding! But maybe they could go and hide, yes. Except in looking around again, paranoid, she sees Zhivka sitting there, and even if N'muir is there to handle that situation she looks concerned and maybe a little bit like she might want to go over there, too. Watching him with some measure of uncharacteristic suspicion, Zhivka, in the end, shakes her head at him and her eyes revert back to the table. "Am I /supposed/ to have made up my mind by now? Seems a little soon to give it much thought." "Well, I promised N'muir I'd find him once I was halfway through this 'skin," E'dre answers, shaking the skin in his left hand and eying his glass in the right. "I think I'm at that." He might be playing at being drunken than he is, or he's just that laid back tonight. "There he is," he announces, following Elise's gaze towards Zhivka and N'muir. "Whose that?" he questions, squinting at Zhivka. "Damn my eyesight. Damn old age." Is he that old? Who knows. He grabs Elise's elbow and steers her towards the Weyrleader. N'muir shakes his head and then shrugs his shoulders, looking out at the crowd though his words are for Zhivka. "Not necessarily," he murmurs. "I was just making conversation. You look..." And now he looks over at her, and in that moment he hangs, searching for words. "Well, just thought I should come say something, anyway." And he appears to want to say that 'something' now, and helpfully begins: "You're young. You could Stand many more times. You're - how old? - sssss-" His brow wrinkles and he squints one eye while holding onto that 's' as if hoping Zhivka might help him finish that number. "Well then why--" Whatever question that might have been isn't, since E'dre is talking again soon after that. She's still holding her glass, about to take her first sip when the Weyrsecond takes her elbow, meaning she has to do one of those strange stiff elbow things so her hand doesn't splosh wine everywhere. "E'dre!" she chides, but then they're on their way over to where she may have wanted to go anyway, so instead of resisting she goes along with it. "Zhivka. One of the other candidates." Candidate. Not weyrling. Like her. Once they arrive at the table, Elise's eyes are down, and she finally takes a long drink. "Elise!" E'dre mimics her tone after her chiding as they finally make their way to the table that seems to host quite a few candidates. Or maybe just Zhivka. E'dre can't be bothered to notice. He releases Elise's elbow to shoo that glass of wine into her mouth and then he looks at N'muir. "Where's you're 'skin?" he asks, hefting his and shaking it to showcase it's near-emptiness. "Twenty-one," says Zhivka like it just pains her to say that right now. "Thanks. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be..." Probably whatever word N'muir couldn't come up with before. "Anyway, even if I was only sss-something, how many times should you really put yourself through it?" Granted, she's only done it all of twi-once. But who's counting. "I can't even pick up a sack of tubers." Woe! Fortunately for N'muir, Zhivka cuts herself off when E'dre and Elise show up. She's looking at the other candidate, sympathetic but silent. E'lai arrives to the celebration much belated. He looks a little dazed and confused, but overall not too much worse for the wear. Food is the first thing on his mind right now, so he makes a beeline for the edible offerings. After loading up a plate, the young man's next task is finding a familiar face in the crowd, and his gaze eventually falls on the table with N'muir and Zhivka, Elise and E'dre. He makes his way that direction, offering a cheery "Mind if I join you?" when he's suitably closed the distance. Zhivka's sympathetic look is returned, along with a little smile that might be meant to bolster the other girl's spirits. Elise has been here before. "Yeah N'muir," she speaks up, "where's your 'skin?" And with a little head tilt she lifts her glass again to drain another huge gulp. E'lai's arrival almost upsets her so much she drops it entirely in the next moment, though, and she sputters a little. "I... you... I..." Let's try again. "Are you okay?" Look at those eyebrows, how they pinch together. Concerned, so concerned. "Tsssk--hhh!" E'dre hisses as Elise almost drops her glass. He makes a great show of making sure she's got the glass and it's refilled before he glances towards E'lai. "Can weyrlings drink?" he asks no one in particular as he's ready to signal for wine to be brought toward E'lai if he's wanting. Then he looks towards Zhivka. "21? I think I was 23, or well, something like that when I Impressed Wroth." That's meant to be supportive, though he doesn't seem inclined to elaborate on anything about her or Elise's lack of Impression. "Wine?" he frowns at his empty glass and now - where'd all that 'skin go? - empty wineskin. Perhaps it isn't Zhivka's answer that causes the Weyrleader to take a long gulp of wine. Maybe it is. But that's what he does - lifts his cup, takes a deep, long gulp. "That's still young," he tells the petite Candidate. "I don't know how many times /you/ want to put yourself through it but, do you have anything better to do with yourself?" The words are said with earnest feeling behind them, not with the intention to wound by any means. "And I thought you said you got the tubers put away?" But then E'dre and Elise are there, and rather than set the conversation aside, he opens it more broadly to include the newcomers. "Anyway, your things are still in the Barracks. Why not just stay til Isyath's eggs hatch? What's the harm?" This now asked of Zhivka /and/ Elise. Lucky them. And he nudges E'dre with his elbow, dangling his own half-filled wineskin in offering. "Shards, what, did you chug yours?" Then there's E'lai: "Oh good, you're alive! Is she sleeping?" Maybe part of it is that there /are/ sympathetic looks returned but Zhivka is starting to look like she's on the verge of tears. Which makes her look about as young as most people assume that she is. E'dre's comments don't really seem to help but she tries to hide the way that her lip trembles by looking down at the plate of finger foods she's not eating. If E'lai didn't show up, N'muir pointing out something he probably doesn't know is /so/ true might have her legitimately crying. And nobody wants that. "I don't know," is all she says about the eggs still on the sands. "There's probably somewhere happier for you to go," she says to E'lai. Not that she /wants/ him to go there. "Are you okay?" "So what if I did?" Chug, that is, as E'dre looks towards N'muir with a frown. "It's a feast!" And he snags a passing - someone - "Get me more wine." The young greenrider gives E'dre a /look/ but knows better than to argue with the Weyrsecond and goes to fetch not one - no, she knows better - but /three/ wineskins which she lays out on the table with great show. "/Don't/ bother me again, E'dre," she grumbles at the brownrider before she heads off towards her group of friends. E'dre is not in the least bothered by her departure. There's wine now! He makes a great show of picking a 'skin up to inspect and then pours wine in his glass, in N'muir's, in Elise's, "Really, Elise. You need to keep up," he chastises and then pours a glass for Zhivka and E'lai in water glasses that he dumps the water out of and into a nearby pitcher. "It's a feast!" Because no one should be crying, at least, not until there's alcohol-related-tears! E'lai slides into an empty seat, settling his things in front of him before looking up to meet Elise's gaze. "I'm fine, just fine." That eye contact is for sincerity, and he offers her a small smile before he's distracted by drunken riders. "I've no idea if I can drink," he confesses as he drapes a napkin across his lap and reaches for a fork. "Truthfully I missed all the introductory weyrlinghood bits, since I was busy with..." He waves the fork around. "Y'know." If he was planning on elaborating, he doesn't get a chance to before N'muir interjects with his own greeting. "I am indeed. Hope you're not disappointed." He grins at the Weyrleader. "She's sleeping now, yeah--full and not in pain, thank Faranth. Far too much excitement for one day. Still can't see." Now he waves the fork at his eye. "The healers say that it's psycho... something. Ziluyth's doing, basically, so we'll see how that plays out." To Zhivka, he merely grunts, a dismal of her notion that he could find a happier place to sit. "Nowhere I'd rather be than with my friends, Zhiv." And that's that. "E'dre, no, I can't..." And other such things, in a mournful voice, as her glass is filled again. When it wasn't even empty yet. "I'm going to have to speak to my uncle, and I can't be... whatever it is I would be if I keep drinking." But after looking into that wine and having the wine look back at her, she submits to it and takes another gulp. "It's just so good," she murmurs. And it's making her brain all happy fuzzy. Or maybe just numb. Whichever. E'lai's reply to Zhivka soften her some and now it's her turn to look on the verge, as it were. She reaches over to tap the little blonde on the shoulder and says very quietly, "you and I, later." For a talk, presumably. For N'muir and thought of eggs, "I... it's out of my hands." Which might be /her/ reason for drinking so heavily. Speaking of drinking. The prospect of possible tears sobers N'muir's expression and he looks contrite and stares down into his cup - even as E'dre is filling it. Surely there are rules but there are also nearly tears, and N'muir's eyes slide from Zhivka to Elise to E'dre. "Well, if you haven't decided to be Candidates then I can't very well stop you from drinking in excess, so..." The only cup he stalls is the one headed for E'lai, intercepting it to take for his own. "That's not a good idea, Weyrsecond," he reminds with a smirk. "The /Weyrlingmaster/-" Ebeny. Remember? "-won't appreciate a drunk, one-eyed weyrling stumbling to the Barracks. How about we drink /for/ him." This said in hopes that it will subdue E'dre's need to intoxicate /everyone/. So, E'lai: "You can't see out of /your/ eye?" N'muir's brows raise. "That's got to be... a strange feeling." Dang it, E'lai. Zhivka was doing so well. But /that/ comment from the weyrling makes her lift a hand to her face to wipe at her eyes. Not crying! Just all this emotion getting in her eyes. So bad this time of turn. The little blonde reaches for the glass E'dre's so kindly filled and if anyone's ever heard her say she doesn't drink, she does a pretty good job of pretending that she does with that glass. There's a small nod in response to Elise's touch and quiet words but then she says to E'lai, studying his face with no small hint of concern, "I'm happy she picked you. I'm sure everything will work out. You'll help her get better and then everything will be perfect." See, there's still an optimist hidden in there somewhere. "Yes, yes, yes.. the /Weyrlingmaster/," E'dre answers N'muir in a grousing tone, hurmphing for good measure as he flings that wineskin down amongst the others and resigns himself to intoxicating everyone /but/ E'lai. He keeps his eye on Elise's and Zhivka's drinks, ready to refill in an interception sort of way - their glasses will somehow stay near-full all night. And any chance of tracking 'how many' have been consumed will be hard to do. He squints at E'lai. "You met the Weyrlingmaster?" he asks suddenly, "I'm sure the rest of the staff saw to your dead eye. Or. Bad eye. Or psychotic eye?" he asks, losing track of his original line of questioning and hiding it in one fell swoop of a gulp of wine. Elise, holding her glass in both hands even if it doesn't require that much security, pivots back and forth at the waist to keep track of one person, then the next, then the next in their little group, all while taking gulp after gulp of that infinite wine supply. "Psychotic eye?" That catches her attention. She stares at E'lai. "Wait you can't see out of your eye?" She seems to have only just now realized that's indeed what he said, and is stuck looking at him like that for a long moment before suddenly she's dissolving into breathless giggles, eyes squinted shut, lips buttoned in. Not good. E'lai warily eyes E'dre's wine distribution, exhaling through his nose when N'muir intercepts the glass intended for him. Relief? "I think intoxication and partial blindness would make it difficult to stumble anywhere, really," he muses as he pops a bite of food into his mouth. He's still got a sense of humor. "Correct. I'd been warned there'd be a lot of changes that come along with a bond but this particular side effect was... most unexpected." He squints at Elise as he chews and she giggles--well, laughter is probably for the best all around right now, so he'll overlook the laughter at /his/ expense. "I have met the Weyrlingmaster," he says eventually, looking between the inebriated Weyrsecond and Zhivka, "And... yeah. I'm not sure about perfect. I mean, /I'll/ be fine. /We'll/--everything will be /fine/. But I'm not sure about perfect." N'muir sagely nods at his 'second. "Yes. The Weyrling/master/." As if that emphasis makes Ebeny somehow different; stronger, more powerful, a force not to be reckoned with. He gulps back another half a cup of wine and holds his cup out to be refilled by E'dre. If he notices Zhivka's tears, he tries not to make a display of it, instead turning his cup to her to invite her to 'cheers' once he's been refilled. And he's actually smiling - a little more with each half a cup of wine that disappears. Elise's giggles earn her a finger pointed in her direction, and after a pause to study her, N'muir decides: "You're drunk." Another gulp from the cup is taken before he waves it about without spilling anything, the wild gesture prompted by E'lai's admittance. "Yeah, it was 'most unexpected' for us too,-..." That pause is meant to be Viephale's name, except that N'muir doesn't know it. "Who're you again?" Being a smallish person, Zhivka probably can't hold alcohol quite as well as she drinks it. She's already looking just a little flushed. She'll probably regret it later. But right now, it's just what she needs. It will even help save N'muir from her tears and she meets his cheers with something dangerously close to a smile. Possibly in part from Elise's giggling, which she's trying very hard not to catch. "/Fine,/ then. Everything will be fine. Perfect doesn't have to mean /perfect,/ you know. Just... perfect enough." But N'muir does make a good point, "What /do/ I get to call you now?" "You really shouldn't ask after his psychotic eye," E'dre murmurs to Elise with an elbow aimed towards her side. "It's rather rude." He waves a hand at E'lai, "No one, you know, cares that you are half-blind. Okay. Well." He squints at N'muir, "Maybe some of us might." Wine? Ah, yes! More wine. For him, Elise, Zhivka, N'muir, just not the only weyrling in their group. "You poor thing," he adds, sighing over his glass, "not being able to drink." Which is far worse than not being able to /see/. "And no one even knows your /name/!" He makes tsk-tsking noises at N'muir. "The /Weyrlingmaster/," he deepens his tone on that title, "will not see me until late into the afternoon tomorrow! At least I won't be forced to sleep on Wroth's couch," he pauses, looking towards Zhivka as he adds, "That...is. So long. As. I. Hm. Don't go home drunk?" Is he drunk? He must be. He sips more wine. "Am I drunk?" he stage-whispers towards Elise, "or are you?" And then Zhivka is asking N'muir what to call him and E'dre doesn't even hesitate, "Sir Sparkles, of course." The situation is grim, people. N'muir's assessment of Elise's level of not-sobriety is met with a jerky nod, her shoulders shaking with the laughter she's trying to batten down, the back of her hand pressed to her mouth in an effort to, what, hide her grin? It isn't working, especially when the Weyrsecond elbows her, sloshing her wine about. One of his eyes doesn't work right now. It's hilarious. "You are," she squeaks out, a reply of sorts for E'dre, which just makes it worse. Eventually she does manage to get herself under control, just nevermind her, and after a deep breath, and another gulp of wine, she presses her lips into a thin line and puts on her best 'I'm listening' face, waiting to hear what E'lai calls himself now. 'Sir Sparkles'. "Pahahahaha," is actually a sound that she makes, right before clamping her hand over her mouth again. "Viephale," E'lai supplies quickly. having not had a chance to actually /use/ his elision yet with all the hatching confusion, and it understandably not being on his mind at the moment. "Though I like to be called Vie, so." He nods to the Weyrleader as if that settles the matter. That is, until Zhivka is also pressing the issue. After a moment of obvious confusion--she /knows/ his name, why would she...?--there's a dawning realization, and an immediate flush to his cheeks that likes to show up when he can't figure something out. "Oh, uh. I guess it's E'lai now. What do you think?" This latter question is mostly directed to Zhivka, since she knews his name and all, and is not currently snarfling at him like Elise. E'dre, though... oh, E'dre. Poor E'lai hasn't had a bite in some time, fielding questions as he is, and the barrage of comments from the brownrider is overwhelming. And then, Sir Sparkles?! At this point, he just stares. With his one good eye. First at E'dre, then at Elise. Oooh boy. "Perfect enough," N'muir echoes in agreement. But, like E'dre, N'muir can't be sure whether Zhivka is asking the new greenrider about his title or questioning the Weyrleader what he is to be called, but 'Sir Sparkles' produces a snort of laughter. "Hey!" A cry of defense, too. "I don't /sparkle/!" But more to the point, says the wave of N'muir's hand at that topic of Sir Sparkles. "Viephale? That's- wow. If that's your honorific, you must have had a really, /really/ long name before. Because mine was -" And N'muir pauses to count on his fingers, saying the letters out loud: "N-i-e-m-u- wait, N-i-e-wait, wait, wait." This requires concentration, and he knits his brows to try again. "N-i-e-m-u-i-r-i-n-/nine/. I was nine letters and now I'm-" Another pause to count on fingers, complete with: "N-m-u-i-r-five. Wait-" More counting. "No, yeah. Five." Except it's E'lai, which causes N'muir's face to light up. "Oh, that is so much better!" N'muir lifts his cup and takes another long, long gulp, watching E'lai's eye. Experimentally, he lifts a hand to wave it in front of E'lai's face (assuming the young man doesn't swat him away). "Wait. Can you see this?" Zhivka totally cares. Especially with drinks. Though, fortunately, not quite enough to go pet the poor weyrling's face. It's possible that it's occurred to her, however, especially given the way she's looking at the new greenrider, all concerned. Never mind the hint of a smile that won't go away now. Guys, stahp. She's trying to be /serious./ "E'lai. I /like/ it. I can't promise I'll remember it." It's the wine's fault. "But I like it. Also," begins Zhivka with her attention turning to the Weyrleader, "I think I like him better drunk." Like he's not standing right there. "He's not as scary like this. And I /did/ get those tubers put away. I just didn't carry the whole sack at once." Wait, what? That question was asked aaaages ago. "AH! Not the wine!" E'dre can't help but shout as Elise sloshes wine from her glass and lands some on his boots, of all things! "My /boots/!" he bemoans, staring down numbly at his black boots that just /might/ host a spot of wine on them. "They're ruined." It's the Weyrsecond's turn to get emotional. There might just be real tears in his eyes that he's blinking away. "They were new." He looks up from the appraisal of his outfit to glower towards N'muir's old leather outfit. "You should've spilled on /him/." Before he can comment further on the state of the Weyrleader's outfit he's staring outright at E'lai. "Shells, man! Thank goodness you Impressed. What a mouthful of a name! Viephale. Impale. Pie fell?" Really, the Weyrsecond can be that rude. Blame that wine that he's going for more of. "I was Aleudre, you know. AL-OOO-drreeee," he takes the time to painstakingly sound out his name as he eyes Zhinka and then Elise. "Not that you ladies have to ever worry about losing your names. Though didn't one of the weyrlings? Just up and change names? What's next," he grumps and then brandishes that wineskin N'muir's way like a grumpy old uncle. "Drink, man!" "I'm sorry," is all Elise has to say for herself. And that's right around when N'muir is testing out E'lai's vision, all very scientifically and everything, which /almost/ makes her lose it all over again, except E'dre is distracting her with his boots. "What?" She looks down with him, peering to try to find whatever it is he's whining about. "You're fine," she decides, smoothing a hand down the front of her own posh threads without throwing /any/ shade. It isn't until mention of another weyrling whose name was changed, and who was a girl, and really there are only that many of those, and she sobers almost instantly. Reality has a way of doing that, and suddenly she looks around like she's just gotten here and doesn't know anybody. "I... I have to go. Bye, everyone. I'll see you all later." She sets her glass down and attempts a casual smile that might work if only her eyes would focus a little better, then turns to leave with a click of heels on the floor and a swish of fabric. E'lai just... squints at N'muir as he tries to master the age old art of counting. And he chews his food. Then he squints at Zhivka while she gushes about the drunk Weyrleader. Then he squints at E'dre when he starts rambling about his honestly hideous pre-Impression name, I mean the man is definitely making some good points, really, but it's the principle of the thing. "I still have one good eye!" Squinty McSquints says, rather poutilly, to N'muir when the bronzerider waves his hand in his face. Oooooooh boy. To Zhivka, he is a little more patient: "I'll help you remember if you forget," he volunteers, "No worries. I don't expect you to remember much of anything at this point. Any of you, actually." He might be banking on it. As for E'dre? "Aleudre sounds like a very fancy-pants name," he muses. 'Were you a weaver?" Elise's sudden exit is too quick for E'lai to acknowledge beyond a nearly-too-late 'goodbye' call; he frowns at her retreating figure but opts to leave it be. Surely the pile of empty wineskins is getting unreasonable? N'muir's head tips to the side as he thinks. "I think I like you better like this too," he admits to Zhivka. "Come to think of it, I like everybody better like this. You're all pretty good." This, his final verdict. His eyes migrate to E'dre. "Except you. You, you're pretty better than pretty good." N'muir stares down at E'dre's boots, studying them. "A little spit shine'll get that off." Is he going to spit on E'dre? He might- except E'lai raises a very good point and the Weyrleader bursts into laughter, and then proceeds to double over from the sheer force of amusement wracking his body until he can't breathe. "Fancy-pants," he manages to wheeze out between breathless laughter so powerful it's beginning to turn his face red and make his eyes water. N'muir suddenly gasps, his breath returning, but wait! "-A /weaver/!" Ah, see, no, that breath was just so he could laugh somemore. "Oh Faranth, I need to go tell N'rov. This kid's hilarious," N'muir tells himself, or everyone, trying to wipe his teary eyes while also holding two cups of wine. "You coming, Fancy-pants?" "I'm so glad I wouldn't have to change my name. I like my name. It's /mine,/ you know?" Clearly all of these men who've had to change their names will totally know what she's talking about. Zhivka will just not pay attention to the mention of the girl that /did/ change her name. Definitely not when she can do that dreamy smile and sigh thing at E'lai instead. "You're so nice." Her gaze is drawn to Elise, though, and while she doesn't manage a farewell, she does look like she feels like she should follow her for a few moments there. And then it's gone. Wine trumps all, evidently. Also walking might be a problem for a little while here judging by the intoxicated smile she gives the older dragonriders. Oh, they're so funny. Almost too funny for her to keep up. E'dre watches Elise flee with a frown. "Do I smell?" he asks Zhivka before he tilts his nose towards his arm and gives a good sniff. "Like flowers," he mutters to himself as he lifts his head with a quick shake to negate the thought that he might not smell /good/. Mr. McSquints gets a lifted brow, "Of course a weaver would have a fancy-pants name. Do you /see/ these pants?" he demands, lifting his right leg to point with his glass at his neatly tailored pants. He looks out into the crowd and takes a step back. "Oh no. It's.. Ebeny.., I, ah..," he sets his glass down near Zhivka and pushes it towards her, "Double-fisting, huh, candidate?" he demands loudly, gaining looks from nearby people. He manages a wink towards the girl before he turns and flees for the nearest exit. He will not be found drunk by his wife! Did he manage to drag N'muir with him? Probably. Hematite post-Hatching meeting and all that! |
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