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V'den and Brown Yoneth | Western Wyerling | 22 | He/Him

At the approach of his blue clutchmate, Yoneth dragged his eyes away from the table where he'd been intently focused on his siblings sampling the deep fish, between Orioth giving them permission and Nimrath raving about it he was quickly regretting passing on it at first. But there was an awful lot left, it could wait a few more minutes if it had to...

They're all the same as they were in the shell. I'm more interested to meet Theirs though. Knowing who we'll be risking our lives with during threadfall is exciting, isn't it? Mine was the perfect choice for that. The brown's eyes whirred intensely blue again, fish all but forgotten in lieu of how much he admired his rider and how sure he was of the choice he'd made and how much they would accomplish together. He truly couldn't have been happier with his hatching, aside from the abrupt loss of his egg home.

"Nowhere? I take it that's more interesting than you make it sound." V'den turned from his plate and offered his hand to shake, smirking with a mix of amusement and affection when Yoneth shifted himself slightly to lean against his leg. "V'den, formerly of Telgar, then High Reaches. Congratulations yourself! The stands impression, right? I wasn't expecting to see that."


Tell Yours I won't bite him. He added to Rubiginth, tone firm nut patient. He was about to innocently ask the dragonet why he chose someone so fearful until V'den gave him the mental equivalent of the "shh don't say that!" elbow prod. He hadn't missed that strong reaction at seeing him, was everyone going to act like that over one little mauling?

A'iel - He/Him - Western - The hatching was over, and it had gone off... not quite without a hitch (he did hope that lost candidate could rest well beyond between), but well enough. No hatchlings had been lost, and the clutch had shelled a number of interesting surprises that would give the Weyr gossip fodder for quite a while. Two golds... Nasath had been quite thrilled, of course, always one to look for a reason to be ready to chase, but A'iel had considered it somewhat ominous. The records supposedly said that when Thread returned the golds rose more often, and clutched larger. And when Thread grew more and more intense, the clutches grew to match. Thread had already been devastating enough, so to have so very many eggs, and twin hatchlings, and extra golds cropping up... Oh come now, A'iel. Today we should celebrate! Thread is a trouble for tomorrow, and I know you want to go find your ledgemate... He mentally buffeted the bronze, a faint blush dusting his cheeks; the dragon's ploy had worked though, as he felt his rider's mind spin away from worries and towards a certain lady.

She's not my weyrmate... he insisted... but the bronze could tell that he didn't mind the idea. Even if it was frightfully early on to be having it. I haven't seen her arrive yet... Then again, it was hard to see much of anything when you were as short as he was. He'd done himself up as finely as he could without too much ostentation—a long-time habit to help look older than he was, and for the first time he'd found, as he straightened his clothes and stepped into the hall to begin searching about, that he didn't care so much if he looked like a candidate or not... just so long as Taiena thought he looked alright.






Amna - She/Her - Western - Another splendid clutch! Amna swirled into the hall in a flourish of her skirts, beaming at all those around. Of course, there was a somber note to the evening, but slightly selfishly, she hadn't known the candidate who'd been felled, and their loss didn't directly impact anyone she knew, so... She wasn't setting out to be disrespectful, but she also wasn't about to let the festivities pass her by when she only felt excited and happy! There was food to have, company to keep, and warm arms to hold and be held by. Life was for the living, and she was one of them. Without hesitation she veered towards the feasting area, ready to grab up a platter and help herself to an early breakfast of meat and bread and cheese and everything else there was to have. She she plated herself a serving, she kept an eye on the crowd for a certain other ginger-haired fellow—she'd usually managed to get S'dan anywhere by telling him the set time to arrive was half an hour earlier than it really was, but she'd also dropped back off to sleep following the hatching for a bit, and then woken and set about preparing herself, which had taken the most of her focus. Eh. He'd turn up sooner or later, she was sure. For now, she was happy to sit back and tuck into the spread, and wait for the harpers to strike up a tune.






D'mar - He/Him - Western - Such an early morning. It was absurd to be up and about like this when they all ought to be resting. D'mar... did not care for being woken out of turn, and when the humming had begun, he'd been quite displeased to find half the bed's warmth going cold (and not to mention the gall of finding himself sharing a bed—he'd intended to return to his own chambers, how had this happened?) and the hour still early. It was important to be rested and sharp for the day, and his evening work had carried on later than he preferred, and to then be asked to climb out of bed to watch squalling infant dragons search theirs out had not sounded like a worthy exchange for his time. Strigonth had gone in his stead, the blue perching and observing carefully with enough interest for the both of them as his rider had drowsed on in peace. Only when his twin brother had impressed, right at the very tail end of things, had he let the blue stir him long enough to share a mental image of the event before he'd dropped back off to sleep.

Now a few hours later (though it was still unattractively early) he'd risen, returned to his own chambers (and the ones he'd been in had been conspicuously empty when he'd woken, not an ideal sign), washed, dressed, and made his way to the feasting area. This was worth his time—a social event like this was just the thing to start setting out new lines of connections, and seeing and being seen by those who currently or eventually would matter. Two new golds had been shelled, which was worth notice, and he meant to find his brother to offer congratulations as well. Still, he couldn't help but turn a wandering eye over the crowd, looking for... Well. No. He'd woken alone, prepared alone, and if the one he'd gone to bed with hadn't felt like returning to him, then he certainly wasn't going to go seeking them out just yet. His brother would do then, and he spotted his twin shortly enough, crossing to him at a brisk clip, and sparing the green at his side a brief once-over. "Marinel, congratulations. ...Or will it be M'nel, then?"






G'ar - He/Him - Western - It was always a somber thing when a life was lost—especially one lost in the name of finding their partner. G'ar could understand why turn after turn, death after death, the candidates were willing to face the risk, and why, no matter the price in blood and lives, the Weyr was happy to carry on. He would have given anything, even his life to find his Marasemeth, and had the blue caused harm when he'd set out to impress, he couldn't have loved him any less. It was the way of things, that risk, and while he'd bowed his head and come first to the bonfire of the (to him unknown) young candidate to pay respects, he did not feel it an unusual loss, or one of particular import. Thankfully there had been no hatchling meant to go along with the lost candidate—that grief would eclipse the loss of a mere youngster by leaps and bounds.


Once he'd payed his respects, the bluerider made a direct line to his dragon, who had settled on the bowl just outside the entrance to the caverns, taking some long minutes to stroke his head and comfort himself in his partner's company. He was more wary of the pending social interactions than upset about the night's events, but he was determined. K'tos would be there, and there would be dancing... and at last he felt, perhaps, that he was ready. Ready to admit the desires of his hearts in a public forum (though he still felt quite as if he did not deserve the regard of such a lofty lover as the Weyrsecond), and to start doing right by the poor man. He'd been so very patient with G'ar this long. I am sure he would have been patient much longer too. He is good. And Minoth... He could feel the blue's deep fondness. "I'm sure he will come and sit with you. If you want to greet the hatchlings, be sure he goes with you, alright?" Only once he'd extracted the blue's promise did he descend into the caverns, one hand gently fisting and relaxing at his side as his nerves began to build. The noise of the crowd broke over him like a wave... and he took a breath, steeled himself, and began to cut through the crowd towards where Western's ranking members were known to gather.






Ilauria - She/Her - Western - Ilauria had really never been prouder than she currently was... well, aside from when she herself had impressed Ovshth. She'd just known that Xahteis would do well—he really belonged at the Weyr, not off at some Hall, he always had. Their family was a rider family after all. It flew in their blood like dragons in the sky. And just look! The second he'd set foot on the sands, he'd impressed. A wonderful brown too, which pleased her even more (Ovshth was his usual casual self about the whole thing) and had her speeding to get dressed up and back to the feast, ready to give her big little bro the biggest of hugs and meet his new partner. A few other candidates she'd had her eye on hadn't impressed, and she meant to find and console them as well, but, of course, she HAD to find Xahteis first.

It'd taken a small moment for her to locate the new rider, skulking in a corner—poor thing, she supposed he HAD been gone a while, long enough to not quite feel at home here now, maybe—but he'd left his post before she reached him, trailing in the wake of... oh! Oh wasn't his brown just darling? All speckled and handsome! They made for another of their clutchmates, on those fascinating twin golds' new partners, and she stalked after him like an eager predator, arriving mere moments after he had. "Congratulations to you both!" She chimed, moving up from behind Xahteis (she could frankly hide in anyone's shadow without even trying) and looping an arm through his, beaming at the both of them. "Welcome to the team, as well. Xah, he's so HANDSOME!" She briefly directed her attention at her brother, tugging him into a tight hug before giving the brown a little bow. "Your gold is just lovely too, of course," she added after a moment, offering Phryana a hand. "I'm Ilauria, of brown Ovshth—Xahteis here's sister. You're from High Reaches, right?"






Jacquol & Green Jubath - both She/Her - Western - You're going to knock them all on their tails, honestly, can't we go now my Jacquol? I want to see my family, and get to know yours! The sound of the green's voice in her head gave the new weyrling a little start, and set her to giggling in pure delight. With deft fingers she finished attaching her headpiece and spun, scooping up the little hatchling into her arms and giving her a spin. "Oh you perfect, precious thing! You've all the patience of a wind before the storm!" She still couldn't quite believe she'd finally impressed, and yet at the same time, she felt like there was no other way the night could have ended but with Jubath at her side. She was ready to go too, her heart hammering in her chest as she imagined the look on Ambrin's face when she showed off the perfect green who'd picked her... she'd probably take the time to say hello to her brother too, but honestly Ambrin and Beylith were the most important to her now. Well, aside from Jubath, who'd let out a little creel at the waves of love washing off her rider.

Well, if you love them, then I think I'll love them too. Can't we GO? The green pressed again, nuzzling at her rider's jaw. Bonds were very important to her, after all, and she had known when she chose Jackie that her heart had already been given to another, in a different way than the green herself wanted to hold it. She'd seen the man her rider adored through her thoughts and memories, and the brown dragon he rode, but she wanted to meet them. Maybe, just maybe, that would be the key to getting Jackie to stay at the Weyr... With a little hop the green sprang from her rider's arms, tugging at her skirts and leading her out the door at a swift pace. With a whoop and a laugh Jackie followed swiftly behind, head on a swivel for either Ambrin or Jacomus in the throng. Citrath! Citrath, are you here yet?






Raen - She/Her - Western - The fabric of Raen's gown glittered and gleamed as she made her way around the outskirts of the gathering, lingering overlong near the bonfire that had been set to honor the fallen candidate. Still new to the Weyr, it had been a bit of a shocking scene to her... but then, she'd seen death before, and had taken her cues from those watching around her. Of more importance to her was the state of those who had tried, and failed, to help the poor person. She'd caught the emotion thick in the headman's voice when mentioning the fallen, and it had turned her silent attentions more towards watching those who either kept by the fire for longer than most, as well as those who left a bit too quickly. Grief manifested in many ways, after all, and it was her job to tend the minds of those suffering from it.

In time she left the fire behind to join the masses feasting, turning her attention towards greeting and being greeted, and congratulating the assorted weyrlings she came across. They'd all done very well, and their hatchling lifemates were very adorable, but that world was one that had never really held too much allure to her. She was too old to impress now, and not exactly unhappy about that fact. She was needed where she was, after all, and she once again resumed her watchful scanning as she posted up in one of the empty nooks of the cavern.






U'zan - He/Him - High Reaches - U'zan was quite happy once he had a glass of Western's best wine (passable, but it would do) in his hand and the roar of the throng in his ears. This was the sort of moment he loved, at High Reaches or anywhere else. The vibrant, pulsing hum of a party was second only to the hammering drum of desire during a flight if you asked him, and today he had even mlre to celebrate than usual! He’d been ever so slightly surprised to realize his sweet Phryana was electing to stand for a clutch at Western (and his son had as well, of course, that was worth noting too) so very far away, but he’d indulged her desires as if they were his own. Given her praise and encouragement to do as she liked—after all, he certainly did whatever he liked. But to think that she had impressed! And to a gold as well! He’d always had an eye for the truly special ones, and though Balizarth had rolled his eyes at his rider’s crowing, there was no hiding the extra bit of pride helping to light the man up like a bulb of pure charm as he offered his congratulations to the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman over their lovely new riders.

He sipped his wine as he scanned the crowd, not hiding how his gaze hopped from beautiful woman to handsome man and everywhere in between. There was no harm in appreciating fine fashion and pretty faces, though so far none were the one he sought. He wondered which gown she'd choose to wear... Ah. It had dawned on him that he would need to send along all those he'd had made for her... and the few he'd had made that hadn't yet arrived. Such a pity. There was one... woven like spun gold, really. It'd been set to arrive in another week or so. A shame he'd never get to see her in it now... but, that was the way things were, and no changing it. At least she would be set to make a strong impression here in Western. He could only hope they would come to appreciate her strength and beauty half as well as he had. He'd known it from the very start, after all, that she was worth it. Hadn't he?






Wione - She/Her - Western - Wione hadn't had any personal stake in the hatching or its results, but she had been right there beside Findith and Perfect, cheering on all the new babies and celebrating with the rest. Neither of them had ever been the sort to miss a good time, and for the green dragon, with such strong but aimless maternal instincts, it was a thrill. She'd cooed over all the babies in turn, and now was just as eager to get to the feast as Wione was. I want to meet all the precious babies, c'mon Wione! And you can dance, and drink, and bring home someone nice, maybe? The green's mental voice was gentle, and hopeful too. Her rider had been...a bit unlike herself since impressing Perfect. Oh, the green adored her tiny cousin, but it had cemented a bit of a change in the woman. She never brought home lovely men or women for her to meet any more, and seemed to avoid a lot of more intimate social contact... Which of course was fine, but she'd begun to wonder if her precious rider might be sick.

Well, we'll see... Still, the woman HAD gotten all dressed up, and while she left her green in the bowl to coo over any babies coming by, she swept down into the caverns, instantly integrating into the throng and flitting about like the social butterfly she really was. Even if, maybe, her mind was with her firelizard, who was currently winging up into the early morning with a letter tethered to her belly. Still, there was nothing for it. The Weyr was closed, even for this celebration of new life, and she'd just have to make do. She let her eyes scan the crowd, and then made towards a known—if not familiar, personally—figure. "E'ros~" She cooed to the matchmaking man. Everyone who was anyone knew him. "Can I steal you away for some, y'know, love advice?"






X - Any pronouns - Western - In hatchings past, they would have sat atop the stands, humming blue beneath them and trading matter-of-fact commentary on the hatchlings with each other. It had been... strange, to only have that humming bouncing around outside their own head, and not from inside it as had been before. To sit among the throngs, shoulder to shoulder with cooks and drudges and visiting holdfolk. They'd felt... very little, watching the night's events unfold. No excitement, no joy, no sorrow. Their clapping had been mechanical, and when all was said and done they'd simply stood and returned to the tiny cavern that had replaced their weyr for housing. They'd puttered about inanely for perhaps a quarter of an hour, and then with the same vague sense of direction set of for the kitchens. There would be a feast. There was work to do. And their hands weren't busy.

They'd been sent back to their chambers once things got underway, "to get ready", or so the kindly kitchen woman who'd urged them out had said. It had taken the walk back to realize that they'd been expected to attend the feast. Not obligated, of course... but the thought of curling up in the dreadful silence again, without even that hatching-hum to shake their bones, was unbearable. The press and noise of the crowd might be agony of another kind, and they had never thought of themselves as any sort of boon to be visited upon such events... but it was better than being here. And, they realized as they tugged on their boots, and reworked their shoulder knots after mistakenly (again) tying them in the rider style, it might be... nice. To see the hatchlings. To see the new weyrlings. To see people be happy, at least for the moment. Still, once they arrived, it took some long moments to find the will to move into the crowd, and even longer to stop staring at the hatchlings, and approach one. The first they spotted, not yet caught up in conversation to be interrupted.

"Hello, little one. Congratulations on finding yours. I hope you grow up strong, and take good care of each other..."






L'an - He/Him - Western - In all honesty, L'an had never been prouder. In general he'd always been a bit more hands-off than some parents (and yet, in many ways far more hands on given he was a rider) with his son, and had mostly left him to grow into candidacy on his own after they'd settled in Western Weyr. Partially he hadn't even expected to live to see the boy impress, not once thread had returned. So to see the boy—young man, now, really—be chosen by a dragon all his own, a strapping, handsome bronze? The usually stoic man had been in tears atop his green's back, happy tears that were only slightly sad with worry.

He hadn't approached Wren after that, opting to let the boy come to him in his own time, if he chose to come at all. He was a rider now, the same as his father, and no doubt would be just as busy and distracted by his new bond. The older man could handle it if he were left forgotten about—he'd been much the same when he'd impressed so long ago. But, no, there he was, walking right up with his bronze ready to show himself off. "Wren," he returned the weyrling's greeting, a rare smile splitting his face from sea-hardened visage to an expression of pride and joy. "He's certainly almost worthy of you," He gave a little nod to the bronze before the hatchling grew distracted, and then tugged Wren into a one-armed hug. "Well done, kid. Well done."

Candidate Nyrida, she/her
Of course, she hadn't Impressed. Had part of her expected to? Some part of her had hoped, she supposed, despite her misgivings. The tragedy and sorrow she'd felt--continued to feel--was not something she truly wished to burden a dragon with. So why did she remain? Hope. Simple hope that a dragon would come along, one who could handle it. Who didn't dream of dragons? That dream, at least for now, was dashed--and there was a candidate who would never know that dream, or any other, again. Nyrida lowered her eyes as she entered the hall. This was a happy affair, but there was no stopping the melancholy that had settled over her. Someone had died. Someone with loved ones, someone with potential, someone with blooming light within them, snuffed out. It seemed so odd to celebrate life when nearby, others were mourning death.

It was a fact of candidacy, but she hadn't been a candidate long. It was one thing to know that people could die. It was another to see it. The memories it dredged up only made it worse; she knew that their loved ones would be inconsolable, as she once had been. Today was a beautiful day for the new weyrlings; but for the family and friends of the dead candidate, it was the end of everything. Color would fade from their world, and nothing would ever be the same again. Food would turn to dust in their mouths and music would fall flat on their ears.

That's how it was for her, at least...but maybe she was just being a touch dramatic. (Very dramatic.)

Still, here she was, dressed for the feast, despite her misgivings, despite the mourning she felt--both for the candidate she hadn't known, and for those of her past. Her gown was simple and about as practical as a dress could be, with a rich, earthy brown in color. Rather than her usual boots, she wore simple, yet elegant sandals; instead of her leather gloves, she wore silken ones. Her hair, worn up for once, was piled on top of her head, bound in place by a simple clip with a single, inexpensive gemstone in it. She looked lovely and pristine, her hair neat and lovely.

But she felt silly.

Even had she not been in a broody, melancholic mood, she would have felt out of place and awkward in this kind of clothing. She shuffled a bit, glad that, at least, she hadn't worn impractical or uncomfortable shoes. As it was, she regretted coming. Still, it was her duty. Tragedy or no, she was here to represent her Weyr. Maybe to socialize, too, if she was lucky. Perhaps she'd even try to approach someone. Perhaps she'd even try to keep her sharp tongue in check. She hadn't much heart for it, anyways.

She pushed her memories aside, determined, not to enjoy the night, but to persevere and push through, despite it all. But despite that, she found herself in a corner, not keen on socializing. She hadn't known the candidate well, but her thoughts continued to return to them, over and over--and with them, memories from her past.

Sear it. She wasn't just going to sit here feeling entirely sorry for herself. She was here to make friends, wasn't she? Didn't she want to get to know her fellow candidates, so that she wasn't left wondering what might have been? She gave a soft, barely audible sigh, before shuffling a bit closer to...well, Raen was a mindhealer, should she recall correctly. Perhaps she would have something useful or reassuring to say on the matter. And if not, perhaps a simple conversation would suffice. So, it was with prim propriety that Nyrida nodded her head towards the woman, looking every bit as awkward as she felt in her dress. "Greetings, Miss Raen."




Onyx of Blue Miehrath, she/her
Festivities! Fun! Fdancing!

It was good to be a dragonrider, really. She wasn't as morose as some (not naming names), and instead, threw herself full force into the festivities. No matter how tragic it was, it was a part of hatchings. Sometimes, the little ones were volatile, frustrated, confused, and so on...it was just a risk of being a candidate. Onyx had given her respects to the candidate, even though she hadn't known them in the slightest, and regretted not being able to do anything for them. Even had she known them well, she liked to think she'd be able to celebrate, and leave the mourning for later.

As she grabbed a plate of food, piling on the sweets especially, she made her way around the hall, looking for someone, perhaps, who needed a friend. Perhaps Iafri didn't blend in as well as she thought, or perhaps Onyx could sense her unease, hoping to help. Regardless, she spotted the woman, looking shy and lost with her food in hand, and swung over towards her. "Hi, care to find a seat with me?" she asked, grinning. "I'm Onyx of Blue Miehrath." Maybe they'd met before, but Onyx couldn't recall it if they had.

She is Girofleth's, Miehrath supplied.

Helpful! Onyx resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She wasn't talking to Girofleth, after all. Still, she smiled, jerking her head towards a table with a few seats empty, implying that Iafri should follow her, before moving towards it.

Kiri & green Felisath
Felisath continued to huddle behind Hers’ legs, eyes still slightly-yellow as she watched Stormy. Unfortunately, the green dragon was only just out of the egg, and everything was still very new. Where some of her siblings didn’t seem to mind the crowds, or the cooing of strangers, Felisath was slow to warm up to such a flurry of activity and attention. On the one hand, part of the little green desperately wanted the attention; she craved to be needed, wanted, and accepted (and yes, that Deep Fish sang to her sweet soul); a small part of her actually did like the fact that Stormy was there, wishing to draw her, like she was something special. And yet... With everyone else around--the music, her brothers, the crowds--Felisath struggled to enjoy it.

Kiri, for her part, could tell that things were starting to become a bit much. The little green wasn’t nearly as comfortable being spoken to so directly by someone, and after a moment, turned to bury her head against Hers legs. She was a shy-thing, and while Stormy might well be more comfortable talking to dragons than people, poor Felisath was more comfortable talking to, or through, Kiri or her sisters. She felt safe with Hers so close, but Stormy wasn't one she knew well, even if she had touched her egg.

Oh dear. Was she expected to answer?

"You know what? I don't think I ever managed to touch her egg," Kiri spoke to Stormy, trying to veer the subject away from Felisath, to ease the pressure. "I regret missing it, but there were a good handful I didn't manage to touch. Thankfully, she didn't hold that against me," Kiri's smile turned warm, that rich swell of love and fondness entering her words as she looked back down at her little green.

It amazed her how much she could love the little darling at her feet. And with every passing moment, that love seemed to grow.

Still, the brown haired girl wondered, briefly, if joining the celebration so soon was a good idea. Did you want to go back, precious heart? We don’t have to stay if you’re uncomfortable.

Felisath gave a small assuring croon, directing it at both Kiri and Stormy. N-no… I… I want to be here. It’s just..a lot. The green softly admitted to Hers. She didn't know how else to put it. Her hearts were torn on wanting to be only with Kiri, but another part of her did want to be with her sisters, and with the Deep Fish, and to make Hers happy.

Kiri sent the little green a wave of assurance and confidence, as well as pride. It is, isn’t it? We can move somewhere quieter and I promise, no one here is going to give us any trouble. We won't stay too long, I promise, and if we need to find somewhere for just the two of us, we can.

Looking back down at Stormy, Kiri was determined to get Felisath and she on better terms. Honestly, the quiet and reserved artist seemed just the sort of company Felisath could use. "It's no trouble at all. I think there's a corner table that's not being used; care to join us while we eat? If it's not too much trouble."

She was just about to reach down to offer Stormy a hand when someone else approached. Felisath's eyes went immediately yellow, and she pushed even harder against Kiri. A surge of protectiveness, both for Felisath and the girl sitting before her, and she turned to face the down the interloper with a renewed ferocity--when she came face-to-face with-- "C'ryn!"

The protectiveness for Felisath remained, but immediately her suspicion and ire turned into nothing but joy, and she instead smiled brightly at the bronze rider from High Reaches. "I'm so glad you made it!" She spoke, her excitement and pleasure genuine. The last time she'd saw him had been one of the worst days of her life, shrouded with nothing but pain and tears; and yet, now, he was here, and got to see her on what legitimately was the best day, the most perfect day. "She is gorgeous, isn't she?" She confessed with renewed pleasured, and clear biasedness. There were many gorgeous dragons out there, but Felisath? ... None could compare.

"Ah, where are my manners? C'ryn, let me introduce you to Stormy, resident artist extraordinaire. Stormy, this is C'ryn of bronze Aresoth, form High Reaches." Without thinking, she offered her hands to Stormy, hoping to help the shy girl up so she wasn't just sitting on the floor.

Felisath turned her eyes up at C'ryn, studying yet another stranger. And yet, she knew this one, or at least, knew him through Kiri. To feel her rider's happiness, to know that she was pleased, the green dragon's eyes turned a little bit brighter blue. She gave a shy croon of greeting at C'ryn, before looking back at Stormy, and giving her a little assuring croon. Surely, with Kiri here, they were both safe...even if the yellow never truly left her whirling gaze.

You don't have to be afraid of him, Fel. The girl quietly assured. He's my friend and besides, I'll always make sure you're safe.

I know. The green answered, and for that, the little creature loved her all the more.

Taiena of Blue Khandjith

You're awfully dressed up for a change, Khandjith noted as Taiena gave him one last check-over for the morning, her hand lingering on that stump where a leg had once been. The young woman looked up at her dragon with a smile. "It isn't too much," she deflected, but couldn't help but brush the sand off of her skirt with a pat of her hand and a shake of the whole thing. Against her mind, Khandjith's touch was like the slight raising of an eyebrow in disbelief. "You saw her, didn't you? How could I not dress up a little to celebrate for Nikal?" Certainly, the green would hold a certain reputation for a time as being anything but darling in some eyes, but....

She was Nikal's and that was a wonderous thing.

Only for Nikal? he leaned pryingly into her mind and Taiena batted him away with a blush. "Absolutely only for Nikal!" she defended uselessly, though Khandjith mused that it was another who had fluttered through her mind at the nudge. He nudged her with his head. Well don't keep him waiting, he pressed, sending his beloved off like she was the princess late to the party.

Which she was at least one of those things, even if Weyrlings were still making their way into the Feast when Taiena arrived. She made sure to greet the parents...parent? Then both their Weyrleader and Weyrman before she turned to scan the crowd for her baby brother. Spotting him by the tables with a few of his fellow Weyrlings, she felt it best to leave him be, but... Congratulations on picking such a fine young man, Khandjith reached out to Tecuanith, sending along his rider's BEAMING pride as well. She wasn't going to come embarass him in front of his friends.

So she continued to scan the room, pausing when she saw a familiar back. Even dressed up, Taiena was certain it was - "A'iel?" she spoke up softly, even with all of the humming noise of excitement and mourning all around.

Resident artist extraordinaire? Oh, no...That seemed excessive praise for a few doodles...

She tucked the sketchbook under her arm, took Kiri’s offer to get up, smoothed her skirt out, and curtsied to C’ryn, all without raising her eyes. Stormy might have looked like long-time servant that happened to have dolled up for the party, such was her behavior. Western might be more relaxed about it, but she knew how High Reaches was about its metallics, and she feared doing anything that might find its way back to Danzik or A’ral, or T’nus or High Reaches’s new candidatemaster—whom she had heard less than kind things about—and land her in trouble. As far as Stormy was concerned, the tension between the weyrs was still very real that day amidst the music and pleasantries, even if the rift was slowly healing.

C’ryn seemed nice enough, but a lot of people looked nice enough at first glance. Especially before the drinking started, after which even minor inconveniences to the wrong person could be stretched into problems that reached the right ears.

Mulling over ways for excuse herself without looking like she was running away, Stormy stayed quiet. The feast wasn’t the end all be all event to catch the new weyrlings, but it was definitely the easiest way to go. But she didn’t take the chance to leave when C’ryn offered to get them food and drink, because she was awkward enough already, and staying there like a specter at least meant she could finish her drawing and go quicker once they sat down. And not running away was progress, right? Even if she felt more like a social burden than a person that moment.

Stormy’s anxiety called Starstorm to her, and it popped into being below her curly hair, cheeping and rubbing against her cheek. The green flit had been itching to return to her since the Hatching had woken and separated them, and she did so with reserves of love. Stormy appreciated it, but the display also made her that much more self-conscious.

“If it pleases, I’ll follow your lead,” she said to their legs, her hands still clutching her skirt as if ready to curtsy again. Starstorm chirped again as if also agreeing.




- - -



The voice’s owner became apparent quickly as one of the dragonets parted the crowd and marched up to him. Dhawsn winced slightly as she put her weight on his bruised legs, but he grinned nonetheless. “Howdy there! You remembered that, huh?” That touched him more than he thought it would. Usually his jokes were a sort of passing thing—or reviled, like one of her brothers had apparently felt. Had he found a kindred spirit who appreciated the art of wordplay?

Setting his drink down, he leaned forward and helped steady the green’s claws on his knees, where it wouldn’t hurt. “Alright, uh, lessee...Okay.

“A dragon walks inta a bar. He says t’the barkeep, “I want...a large beer...”

“The barkeep goes, ‘Sir, what’s with the pause?’

“N’ the dragon says, ‘Whadaya mean? I’m a dragon!’”

Cue a guffaw.

Lesta and green Auratath

“Yes.” Her answer was almost abrupt, a ready response as if it’d been on the tip of her tongue all along. Her eyes went distant for a moment, then she gave another fond look and smile to her dragon. “I think I’ll be very happy here.”

Responding to her rider’s look, the green turned back, letting her head loll across Matotoka’s foot. Her eyes swirled a happy green as they exchanged some unspoken words, then faded back to the blue-purple she’d thus far reserved for Lesta alone.

To the man beside her, the woman said, “She says you’ve met. Was that after she hatched, or did you meet her at the Touching? The orange and purple egg?”

Adi

He had to be here somewheeeeere. Maybe? Probably?? She supposed he could have just gone back to the barracks and stayed there after the Hatching instead of coming to the Feast, but..but...where was the fun in that?! Granted, not every candidate was in the mood for fun when they hadn't Impressed, but Adi was a little too glass-overflowing to fully understand those feelings, especially when she'd only had to wait a few Turns for her own partner, and had never come anywhere close to aging out of the chance. She'd wanted a blue, and had gotten exactly that. And she was sure that Aerden would get his dragon, too! It hadn't been today, but sooner or later, one just had to want him. How could they not?

The bluerider wove her way through the crowd on a determined hunt to find her friend, heaping plate of food in one hand and glass of wine in the other. When she finally did spot him, this made greeting the man much harder, because he go-to would have been to all but pounce him, to sidle up and throw at least one arm around him. Always exceedingly tactile and affectionate, she'd only gotten all the more familiar since the Flight. But with her hands full, she could only hover and beam up at him, crooning, "Found you~!"